more Cleveland Indians goodness

I watched the Indians defeat Dice-K and the Red Sox yesterday, and enjoyed it quite a bit. I also found a couple more Indians blogs. There's the exhaustively informative one, and then there's the one written by (gasp) a woman. The latter is not the best blog ever, but I do like that she a) talks about feminist things, b) is anti-Chief Wahoo, and c) has fake boyfriends, just like me (see list to your right [for the record, none of these fake boyfriends could/would ever replace or be half as awesome as my real boyfriend]).

Speaking of being a fan of one of the few remaining pro sports teams with a racist mascot, I was pleased to discover one can purchase Indians gear that sports the non-racist alternative logo, a cursive "I." My head prefers a fitted hat, but I'll take the adjustable if that's what it takes.

i muse. oh, how i muse.

Random musings, to make sure something shows up on this here blog now and then:

-I'm selling my car, sometimes known as Little Blue Wonder. 2002 Echo. Whatever money I have left after paying off the loan will be used to pay for cost of renting an apartment, which is steep relative to Ex-industrial City. I'm trying to determine a good, anonymous place I don't actually have to pay for to host one web page worth of information and a couple small jpegs. Blogger? Too easily tracked to my other blog activites, unless I created a new account. Southern Private Univesity-provided web space? Possible, but identified with my last name, and will likely disappear as soon as I cease to work here. Web space I pay for now? Domains all have my name in them. I wouldn't be so squeamish about the whole name business if my last name weren't so uncommon and google-able, and I weren't so afraid of random stalkers following my car around and sending me creepy letters.

-I tried to make Memorial Day weekend DIY Project Weekend. Started building some much-needed CD shelves, and probably would have gotten closer to finished if I hadn't drained the power out of the drill kindly lended to me by The Friends Who's Names Begin With J. I also started sewing a Built By Wendy short-sleeved blouse in lime sherbet-green checked cotton. No actual sewing action has taken place, but I did get all of the pieces cut. Some day, perhaps, I'll submit photographic evidence of all this DIYness.

-Dick is a Mets fan, and as his enthusiasm for the Baseball-headed One grows, I feel the need to be like him and start enjoying my own team. Historically, when people ask me who my team is, Cleveland has been the easy answer, because I was born there, my family is from there, and I've never lived anywhere else with a major league ball team. Anywho, Dick and I watched the Indians play the other day, and I felt a distinct lack of sports fan idiocy. Thus, I am in search of a few good Indians blog that can bring the snark, the dorkiness, and the gossip.

All I've found so far is Mistake by the Lake Sporting Times, which, in spite of its catchy title and handy parking tips, is a little low on posting and also covers the lesser sports of basketball and football.

-Who knew? Coal is the next clean energy.

were lost but now are found

This past weekend was a boon in terms of finding things that were lost and that I had more or less given up hope of ever finding again. On Friday afternoon, after several weeks of searching everywhere in our house I could think of, I found a missing savings bond. Yes, dear readers, I advise you all to learn from my mistake and never, ever, misplace something that translates directly into about $900 of cold hard cash. Weirdly, I found it in my office, on the floor, under a stack of miscellaneous papers, in a folder with other savings bond-related items. I must have brought it to work sometime a couple months ago to call the Treasury folks, since as a government organization they are only open during the hours I'm at work.

I suspected that savings bond was lying around somewhere, but what was really shocking was when a dickumbrage and I watched a guy run up to our house sunday morning and leave a package on the front porch. Our first thought was "bomb?" but it turns out to have been a package I mailed my sister for her birthday over two months ago that she never got. It was a particularly frustrating loss, since the item contained within was a hand-knitted scarf I had made for her, and not something I could go pick up another of at a store. And it just so turns out that my sister will be in town next weekend, so I can give the scarf to her in person.

eveel, like the fru-its of the deveel

So, exactly how bad does an artist have to be before one becomes complicit in their badness by liking the art they create?

By "bad" I mean "doing really rather horrible unethical and/or immoral things" that don't necessarily manifest themselves in the art.

Exhibit A: Some folks were talking about buying a Phil Spector box set, which pissed me off in light of what I've learned about him lately. (Granted, it also pissed me off because the music is being marketing as Phil Spector's, when really it was largely the music of girl groups produced by Phil. The paranoid feminist in me assumes the aforementioned folks [male] bought the CD because it's easier to maintain your manly punkrock cred by saying you like Phil Spector than saying you like girl groups. If you are more secure in your manly punkrock cred/like girl groups than I assume the folks in this story to be, you should invest in this absolutely incredible box set.)

Exhibit B: I still listen to Biggie even though I know he beat his wife and other women (discussed in this article).