Looking for a Date

I came across the following post on Match.com this All Hallows Eve:

Salem, MA - Lovely and lively witches craving a mid-life fling. Sisters both in late 200's but very spry and active; plenty of tread still left on the tire. Measurements available upon request. Boils and warts too numerous to mention.

Looking for sensual warlocks interested in chanting, seance and riding broomsticks by the moonlight. We enjoy candles, incense and herbal oils. Favorite fun includes brewing concoctions, experimental spells (men with a small penis are encouraged to reply), the ouija board and incantations - no rappers, please.

Must be kind to animals (warthogs excepted) and enjoy The Wizard of Oz. Fondness for a bucket of lightly salted and buttered worms a plus! Not moved by flattery, but eye of newt and toe of frog guarantee a good time!

Inquiries sent during the full moon will not be returned.

Bad Ass

I hope I am not being too crude, but my last 2 trips to a public bathroom have confirmed a theory of mine that's been brewing for some time - people's shit really smells! Not that it hasn't always, but I am convinced that whatever modern man is consuming is rotting him from the inside out... and we stink more than ever.

Last Wednesday, while sitting on the can in a Detroit Metro Airport bathroom, I could hear one guy after another walk in and say, "Jesus!" These are big bathrooms. Too big in fact for one man to light up the whole place which gave me some solace that it wasn't me. The collective stench, however was overwhelming.

This morning I stopped at the I-95 Rest Area on the NH border. This is the smelliest place on earth bar none. A pig's ass would smell sweeter. You don't even have to go into the men's room to be offended by this place. Just walk into the lobby to grab a map, ask directions or get a drink of water and 10 steps into the joint you'll mumble to yourself, "Jesus!"

Man's cry to the Lord is usually reserved for perilous moments in one's life when faced with death or something beyond our imagination - like seeing an alien. The fact that "Jesus!" is the phrase of choice for so many when accosted by the putrid smells of the public pottey either says we are about to die, or aliens are invading earth through the bottom of our ass.

If you think I jest consider this - when was the last time you heard the phrase, "his shit doesn't stink?" Not in awhile, eh? That's because "his shit DOES stink!" Man, we gotta change our diets.

Even the dog has left the room.

Avya Angered Over End of Daylight Savings

Less than 2 weeks after taking her first steps outside, Ayva expressed her anger over the rapidly changing conditions in the yard. The flowers are all but gone with the killing frost and starting today the sun will set an hour and six minutes earlier than yesterday.

"Daddy says he gets to sleep an extra hour, but I already spend 16 hours a day in my crib," said the toddler. "This is a total hose job!"

What Did I Do Wrong?

Nathaniel came down with a fever on Thursday and spent a good part of the evening throwing up for the first time in his life. I felt so bad for the little bastard. You know, you come into the world with a clean slate and a great attitude and life slowly begins to take it all back. What the hell is that all about?

Keyla said he was highly confused by what was happening as he puked all over his bed. Acid laced vomit coming out of your nose is a bit disorienting.

I hated fevers as a kid. As my dehydrated brain slowly began to fry I'd start to hallucinate. My nightmare involved my hands swelling into giant mitts; I could feel them growing in my sleep.

Today when I have a fever it feels like I am walking on stilts. I can feel my legs and feet, but when I look down the floor is 8 feet below me- weird. I hope Nathaniel didn't have any nightmares. Poor little bastard.

Hee Haw Honeys Lend A Helping Hand

The Mullen Girls - Keyla, Jessica & Julie - pitched in last Saturday at Terra Gardens in Vernon, CT to help host a Haunted Garden Party benefitting the Channel 3 Kids Camp. All of the proceeds collected went to the camp scholarship fund. Channel 3 Kids Camp has been running a wonderful overnight summer camp for underprivileged kids for nearly 100 years. The program centers on showing a child the beauty and wonder of our great outdoors.

The girls did face and pumpkin paintings for all of the children who came into the store. They did an awesome job with the painting, but an even better job making it a fun day for all. They were so enthusiastic! Each is an artist in her own right and the parents were thrilled with their two ticket investment.

"Hey Granpa, I crossed and elephant with a gopher."
"Oh yeah, well, whad'ya git?"
"Some awfully big holes in the backyard!"

Silly Strings

Have you ever heard of the String Theory? Basically it says that our conventional view of matter is incomplete and beyond atoms, protons, neutrons, electrons and quark there are smaller undetectable particles in the universe called strings. No one can see the strings, but theoretically there is a mathematical equation that explains their existence. The fact that we can't see the strings suggest there are more than three dimensions in our world. Tell me something I haven't already heard on Star Trek!

Actually I learned all of this yesterday while listening to Professor Brian Greene (Nova host and author) give a speech at a lawyers convention. If you think we have too many attorneys now you better hope we don't find another dimension to fill.

Professor Greene's talk was fascinating although after listening to him dissect Newton's Theory of Universal Gravitation and Einstein's Theory of Relativity I quickly realized why I am a salesman. We all might be children of God, but somehow a few lucky people got an extra dose of grey matter. Okay, so the number might be in the millions, but what the heck are they going to do with all these strings if they do find them anyway?

Supposedly proof of the String Theory will solve all there is to know about the universe. It is the Holy Grail of science, but what would it say about the existence of God? There was no mention of the implications for The Almighty, although a miniature version of the Pope did pop up on my shoulder to whisper in my ear the promises of Jesus Christ.

A lot of people working on the String Theory have been doing so for more than 20 years. That's a long time to be playing around, but serious stuff deserves some serious time. And yet, I do wonder is there anyone holding the physicists accountable for quicker results? Doesn't anyone have to make quota?

"Damn it, June! Will you tell the kids to quiet down? I only have 5 more years before my project is due! How the heck is a man supposed to earn a living in this house? Can somebody answer that question?!"

How Precious is Life?

I watched a handsome film about the life of Pocahontas called The New World. In it two different men, Captain John Smith and tobacco farmer John Rolfe, fell in love with the Algonquian Indian princess. Blessed by God with a radiant soul and graceful appearance, Pocahontas burned a hole in the heart of those who met her. Tragically, she died in 1615 at the tender age of 22 leaving behind two broken hearts - that of her true love, Captain Smith, and the other of her husband, John Rolfe.

I fell in love with Pocahontas. She reminded me of Julie. My heart sunk when she died and for a moment it made me think about life without my Julie. It made me think about how one day you have love and the next day it is gone. There are no guarantees on tomorrow. That night I gently kissed Julie. I held my lips to hers and felt the warm breath streaming from her nostrils. I grasped onto everything living about her knowing how fragile life can be.

Death comes in lots of flavors some of which have changed since 1615. A bad day in 1615 meant you were going to shit yourself to death (dysentery) or literally sweat your balls off (sweating sickness). Other common dead ends were the black plague (very trendy), influenza (a day off from work today), famine and scurvy (killed the pirate industry).

In 2006 you have more than a 50-50 chance of checking out from heart disease or cancer. Back in the 1600’s most people didn’t make it past the age of 35 – too young for clogged arteries. They claim 80% of cancer is caused by your environment and lifestyle not inheritance. Things like your diet, tobacco, alcohol, radiation, infectious agents and substances in the air, water and soil. I’ll watch what I put in my mouth if everyone else watches what they put in the water.

Other fun modern endings in order of magnitude include drug and alcohol abuse (party!), automobile accident and gunshot wound. Actually, ranking death doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense to me. The latest heart attack victim and the woman who was crushed in the collapse of the Big Dig are both equally dead. What does it matter?

You can leave me out of the auto accident. At least with substance abuse you can see it coming over time. Even getting shot shouldn’t come as a total surprise given you probably just finished really pissing someone off. But an auto accident is so random.

“Hey Honey, turn up the radio! That’s my favorite…WHAM!!!”

Given we now live to an average age of 77 we have learned a thing or two about the cause and effects of dying. Eating food has been a big lift to most folks. Famine still exist in this world (ashamedly), but not in our world (wink!wink!). Vaccines have taken care of most viruses. It’s been 386 years and 47 days since the last school closing for the bubonic plague…and counting.

In 1604 King James was actually intuitive enough to know a pouch of smoke should have a warning label stitched on the side. In his Counterblast to Tobacco, King James described smoking as “loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, and dangerous to the lungs.” His letter must have gotten lost in the mail because 400 years later lawyers, doctors, cigarette manufacturers and folks with ½ a lung are still debating the goodness of a butt in court.

Gosh, I didn’t mean to go off on this tangent about death [Note from sub-self: Oh yes he did; the guy is obsessed with death]. The movie really reminded me of how much I treasure life, especially the lives of those I love. So, extinguish the smokes, don’t eat too much cheese, lay off the booze and drive the speed limit.

Hey, Juls! Come over here. I want to give you another kiss.

Love is a Dead Chipmunk

Everyone has their own way of expressing affection for another. Dora, our daughter's cat, kills things and then gives them to you. I have tried to figure out what her motives are and I've got it boiled down to two possibilities. She is either a very religious cat steeped in the traditions of the Old Testament or a gangster kitty.

It would suit me better if she thought I was the god of Meow Mix and the sacrificial birds, bugs and rodents were gifts to make sure I keep filling the cat bowl. But somehow I get the impression she just likes to "off" other creatures - it's in her post guillotine swagger.

I must say that I am quite impressed with how advanced she has become in her thirst for blood. As a kitten she practiced on insects - grasshoppers, butterflies, bumble bees. A year later she was robbing the bird's nest and carving up fledgling chicks before they could take flight. Last year she graduated to ambushing any bird stupid enough to land in the grapevine. Very proud of her accomplishments she brought into the house wounded, but living wrens, bluejays, cardinals, woodpeckers and warblers. On occasion we had to dust off our Peterson's Field Guide to North American Birds to identify an avian carcass.

But I am starting to get a little worried. This morning when I awoke from a comfortable sleep, I stepped out of bed to find a furry headless chipmunk laying next to my slippers. Nearby lay a proud and purring killer cat!

If I were Truffle, I'd sleep with one eye open from now on.

Last Waltz

Summer keeps holding on here in Connecticut. The temperature for the past 2 days has hovered around 70 degrees and tomorrow's forecast calls for an afternoon thunderstorm. I'm not complaining.

I am puzzled though by Autumn - very schitzophrenic season. It is the only season with multiple names (Autumn & Fall) and the only season that tries to steal the thunder and surname of another season (Indian Summer). Very low self-esteem if you ask me.








The Wild Swans of Coole
by William Butler Yeats

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twighlight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamourous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All's changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

Resting Place

It's probably not a bad life if you get to wear your Sunday best one more time and go back home to settle in.

A lifeless paper wasp on the morning after the first frost - beautiful really.

In 1492 Columbus Sailed the Ocean Blue

Yesterday I photographed a beautiful event in Hartford in honor of Senor de los Milagros - The Lord of Miracles. An extension of a monstrous festivity celebrated since the 18th century in Lima, Peru, the Hartford version of The Lord of Miracles dates back to the mid-1960's...so I am told.

The procession centers on an image of Jesus that was originally painted on a wall in Lima by an Angolan slave in 1651. Legend has it the mural withstood numerous catastrophes (both natural and manmade) when everything else around it crumbled. It became a symbol of strength and protection for the faithful people of Peru. Today a decorated icon of the image is paraded through the streets on a large and very heavy (2 tons) platform adorned with silver and gold. It takes a coordinated group of 20 men to carry the religious jewel.

At the start of the procession yesterday I met a kindly gentleman from Our Lady of Sorrows Parish who told me the tradition in Hartford began in October of 1968. He had never missed a celebration in the last 38 years.

An hour later the procession had moved all of a block and a half, and I met another kindly gentleman. He told me Hartford was the first place in the United States to celebrate Senor de los Milagros. He also said he was responsible for establishing the procession back in 1968 and it quickly spread to other communities soon thereafter.

One more hour into the parade, I met a kindly woman. She told me she had been coming to the celebration since her family started it in 1966. She actually had some photos of the first time she marched with her mother 40 years ago in the first ever procession in the United States.

60 minutes later I met two kindly young woman (cousins). I recounted the stories I had heard earlier about the conflicting origins of the Hartford festival. While they didn't rebuke the accounts, they did correct me to say their aunt was responsible for the spread of the tradition throughout the United States. She worked at the Peru Embassy in Washington D.C. and told many a grand tale of the great traditions celebrated in Lima to all who would listen.

Everyone I met was so nice the question I had to ask myself was "who to believe?" A quick search on 'Lord of Miracles Hartford' in Google turned up a University of Copenhagen dissertation on the history of the celebration and its subsequent (albeit slow) migration to countries such as the United States.

According to the author, the first brotherhood formed to celebrate The Lord of Miracles in the U.S. was in New York City in 1972. A footnote indicates some Peruvians dispute this and claim the inaugural brotherhood and celebration was established in Chicago during the mid-1960's!
Does anyone know if Abbott and Costello where Peruvians?

I'm guessing a good historian needs to check on multiple sources to confirm the facts that we will all carry for now and forever into the future. My sources have helped me confirm Senor de los Milagros' first spin around the block in the U.S. was sometime in the mid-1960's, but the exact year is still up for grabs as are the coordinates on the map!

Do you think all of history is this hard to record?

Peter Pan is Everywhere

Allen turned 48 earlier this month. He and Jan came down for a visit this weekend so we took the opportunity to sing him "Happy Birthday" and make him blow out the candles. Nathaniel beat him to the punch and spit all over the cake.

Earlier in the day I poked around the mall trying to find him a useful gift. Day Planner? Boring. NASCAR pillow cases? Too predictable. Sweatshirt? I wouldn't know the size.

How about a couple of ZipZaps? Perfect! Everybody loves a toy. Do me a favor and shoot me if I ever get too old to play. I don't want to grow up.

When Does No Mean No?

I'm listed on The National Do Not Call Registry. At least I thought I was. It is true that I don't get aluminum siding, replacement window or newspaper subscription telemarketers anymore, but all of a sudden I am getting a half-dozen calls a day from political campaigns. If I have a choice, give me the aluminum siding salesman.

Political campaigns and not-for-profits (suspicious term) are exempt from the "Do Not Call" list; I looked it up. I am positive our household is being bombarded because both Julie and I are registered Independents - everyone wants our vote.

It's nice to be liked, but if the Republican or Democrat public relations employees were running a dating service, I'd be forever single. [TRUTH IN BLOGGING DISCLOSURE: The aforementioned analogy contains inaccurate statements about the author as he has been married for almost 30 years, but you get the point.]

First of all, no one actually talks to you. The calls are either automated polls - "Question 1: Do you want your taxes to go up? Press 1 for Yes or 2 for No. Question 2: Congressman Jimmy 'The Weasel' Padooka voted to increase your taxes last year. Do you think 'The Weasel' wanted your taxes to go up? Press 1 for Yes. Thank You for participating in our voter poll" - or rants against an incumbent. The tirades on incumbents are interesting because most of them don't tell you who to vote for just who to vote against!

I don't even know who is running in some of these races but I do know Nancy Johnson doesn't like me, and Joe Lieberman claims to be a Black man but he isn't. Rob Simmons wants our troops to die in Iraq and Joe Courtney is the guy who calculated the increase in my local mill rate. If all of this sounds silly to you, so do the calls I get from lots of 'concerned citizens for America'.

Here is hint for those courting me - tell me something compelling about yourself. Figuring out who I don't like is the one thing in my life I am actually very good at doing. I don't need any help in that area.

Here is a second hint for those courting me - tell me you will support legislation in 2007 to add political campaigns to the "Do Not Call" list. I am a one issue voter and this is the one!

Still Casting My Web

A Noiseless Patient Spider
by Walt Whitman

A noiseless patient spider,
I marked where on a promontory it stood isolated,
Marked how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be formed, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

My Favorite Mauritian

Stop the press! Moon Mullen Photography is being invaded by the Mauritians. Well, not quite, but I did have one visitor who did a Google search on "nun" and found his
way to http://moonmullen.smugmug.com/Catholic.

He downloaded a lovely photo of a Carmalite and I got a geography lesson. Did you know Mauritius has one of the most vibrant economies in Africa with a GDP of more than $6 billion a year? How about a population of 1,228, 965 with a density of 602/km sq? That's kilometers squared for all you uninitiated.

Not to stray too far from the subject, but when I was in grade school I sloughed off when it came to metric conversions. It was 1968 and we had just dominated the Summer Games in Mexico City. I was sure we were going to go back to running the 100 yard dash, so why learn about centimeters, kilograms and celsius? Anyhow, 602 Mauritians per square kilometers is a lot of people...I think.

Mauritius is an island in the Indian Ocean about 500 miles off the coast of Madagascar (named after the movie). It's on the State Department's good guy list. Chief exports to the United States include 'shirts and trousers' which is suspect because the last guy I knew who bought 'trousers' was my Uncle Bob; he died more than 10 years ago.

Paul Raymond Berenger, a Catholic, became the 1st non-Hindu to rule the government in 2003. Maybe he was my mystery guest? He only lasted in the role of Prime Minister for 2 years and was replaced by Navin Chandra Ramgoolan - a Hindu. Navin probably wasn't poking around my site looking for photos of Sister Anne. Interestingly, they do count All Saints Day as a national holiday. They also party hardy on Thaipoosam Cavadee (body piercing in vogue) and Ganesh Chaturthi (put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up).

I doubt I'll ever physically travel to Port Louis, but through the power of the internet I've already taken a virtual trip. Thank you IP #196.192.97.36 for bringing me closer to your world. I feel so connected.

A Mother's Eye

Joy
Wonderment
Happiness
Fear
Sorrow
Pain
Strength
Courage
Enlightenment
Grace
Love
Life

Blackmail Works

Ayva threatened me with her love...and it worked. She's catching up to Natie Joe.

Official count on Moon Mullen Photography is:
Julie - 655
Nathaniel - 616
Ayva - 354

Truffle is a distant 4th - sorry kids!

Cleaning Up the Cubby Hole

I gotta take a break and put some things in order. My To Do list is getting ridiculous:

1. Review To Do list and eliminate items that you don't really have to do.
2. Write down pros & cons of keeping a To Do list. Pro = provides direction. Con = reminder of fatal tendency to procrastinate.
3. Cross off at least 2 items on To Do list today; "reviewed to do list" doesn't count.
4. Consider becoming a hermit.
5. Say a prayer and ask God to help me sift out what's important and what is not; I might start with this one!
   

Last Rites

If I were blind and couldn't see the changing of the colors, I'd still know it's Autumn. Every year around the 1st of October I go into a funk. Having experienced an annual dip now for more than 30 years it has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

When I was younger I thought my feelings were related to school. Any giddiness I experienced at reuniting with my pals in September was lost by Columbus Day. 30 days of classroom bells, regimented lunchrooms and unfinished homework turned every hallway into Sing Sing. I hated school. 21 years after my first kindergarten nap I received a college degree (don't try to figure out the math) and 4 months later I had the melancholy flu again.

So if it wasn't school driving me into the ground what else could it be? How about death? Everyday another leaf falls, a faded flower wilts in the midday sun and a lifeless fly stands frozen on a windowsill. Birds fly south, the days get shorter and the shadows longer. Fall is one big neon sign reminding us all that life is coming to an end sooner or later. And you thought the foliage was beautiful.

Don't despair. If it truly is a metaphor then Autumn's crucifixion will eventually turn into Spring's resurrection. Remind me in April to post a photo of a Lady Slipper pushing through the soil.

Yo Papa....Over Here!

Hey, Papa Moon, how come you're always putting pictures of Nathaniel on your website? I know I can't talk and I can barely walk, but I never say the "F" word and I don't throw my food. My poop doesn't smell as bad as his either.

C'mon, Papa Moon, you gotta give me some equal billing. Nathaniel's never going to amount to anything. I mean listen to him - you say a word and he repeats the word. You say another word and he repeats that word. Hello! Do I hear an original thought rattling around in that brain?

Papa Moon, I love you, but if you don't give me more headlines I am going to tell Amma she is my favorite grandparent. I'll give you 30 days to straighten out your act.

Ayva

P.S. How come you always laugh at your own jokes?

I Think I Can

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

Tennis Anyone?

On Friday I had the good fortune of spending a day with my boyhood pals. We don't see each other often, so it was good to catch up on new stories, reminisce about the old and plan for the future. Most of our plans don't come true, but they are all made with the purest of intentions.

Buck Leclair, Shawn Robbins, Greg Clairmont and I battled with other Rice-Cathedral alumni for one more moment of athletic glory in the annual golf tournament. Our fearsome foursome put forth a valiant effort, but in the end we were relegated to the bench; we didn't even finish the round.

It was raining when we awoke on Friday morning. It was raining when we drove to the Rocky Ridge Golf Club in St. George, Vermont. It was raining when we signed in. It was raining when we teed off, and it was raining when we walked off the course after 13 holes.

Golf is a lot of fun when you can hold on to the clubs. You know it is time to quit when you sink a putt only to see the hole spit the ball right back at you for a bogey.

Here's to good friends and a sunny day on September 28, 2007!

Family First

Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.
- Anthony Brandt