I'm fine, thank you!

These days, it’s hard to come up with something to write about on my blog. Ever since Sarah Palin threatened to sue me (no, she never mentioned me by name, but the implication was pretty specific), I’ve been afraid to write about politics. And now I’ve read about a comedienne who is being sued by her in-laws for insulting jokes. I’m not sure I can ever mention my family again.

So, I should write about my real life? Do you have any idea how boring my real life is? I sleep through a good portion of it as it is. Do you want details of my diarrhea last night? I don’t think so.

I have always loved the quote, “Fuck reality, give me one good fantasy.” I don’t know who said it, but perhaps some of you are getting the direction I am going.

And how was my weekend?

It was glorious. Richard and I flew to Paris on Friday night, caught the TGC to Marseille and watched the opening of Communité Théatre du Marseille’s presentation of Ken Kesey’s “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” I now remember why I never liked the movie, (but the book was pretty good.)

When that was finally over, we caught dinner at one of those trendy restaurants on Rue Braves, then, took a long walk on the shores of the Mediterranean. The moon was glorious, the sand soft and it slowly abraded all the corns and calluses off my feet.

After a wonderful sleep in the Ritz-Carlton Marseille, we awoke to a breakfast of champagne and caviar before renting a car and taking a carefree drive along the steep, winding roads of Provence. (We’re all gonna die!!! We’re all gonna die!!!) We enjoyed the wildflowers, met Chagall, ate delicious foods and ended our day in Avignon. We had a dinner to die for immediately beside the Palais des Papes. There was soft music being played by a string quartet. It was totally amazing.

This morning, we awoke and strolled down to the local boulangerie. After a cup of espresso, a croissant, some delectable cheeses, yogurt and some fresh fruit, we drove back to the airport and flew home.

How was your weekend?

Richard and Mac

Conversing on the couch. I won't say who is who.

Farewell, Ted

Vacation's Over.

Real life begins again. And, thanks to my having ignored upkeep chores around the old homestead for longer than I care to admit, it is not a benevolent real life.

I am painting the house, officially. Unofficially, I am digging and scraping and hammering and doing all those things that I have done before and should not have to do again. I am not the type of person to stay in any one place long enough to have to re-do anything I have already done. (That is not meant to relate to “poor craftsmanship” issues, just the “you’re supposed to do that how often?” issues.)

I wish I would have taken a truly “before” picture, but I didn’t. So you will have to settle for “early in the process” pictures.

Day Seven: The Silver Anniversary.

No gathering of the Cornelison kids is complete without an inspiring performance by the Four Younger Siblings and Their Much Older Sister, or some various subset thereof. But this one was even more special. It was the silver anniversary of the group.

Yes, twenty-five short years ago, the Four Younger Siblings first performed at Karla’s 40th birthday gala. (And no, being a consummate gentleman, I will not divulge Karla’s age at this point and time. It’s none of your friggin’ business!) In a short quarter of a century, they have entertained literally dozens of people with their amazing talent. Who can forget the standing-room-only crowd at the Las Vegas Hilton, or the outdoor concert in Homer, Alaska? It’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

If you missed the performance, not to worry. Soon the Four Younger Siblings and Their Much Older Sister will be releasing their greatest hits album!

Day Seven: State Number Eleven.

Day Six: The Mean Streets of Pella.

Pella is an adorable town about 40 miles southeast of Des Moines, IA. It has worked at maintaining (or creating) the image of a Dutch town. Most of the architecture is smugly American, but it does have a couple of windmills and some buildings that have a touch of Nederland in them. And there are flowers everywhere.

Pella would be idyllic, but for its horrific problem with street gangs. It is hard to feel safe on the streets, even in broad daylight.