After a day of tending to still sick Sammy, I went to see “Salome” with Robin at the Brighton Royal Theatre. We liked it. It was nearly as bloody as “Macbeth.” My favorite part was Salome doing the dance of the seven veils wearing a bubble gum pink wig and carrying a giant boom box. But I have no photo for the best …

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We don’t seem to be able to go more than 2 weeks without some sort of illness. I suspect that our immune systems just can’t handle these Old World viruses. Poor Sam has barely left the sofa all day. Here she is watching some telly, just before the fever spiked again. She’s sleeping now.

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The most wonderful Macbeth I’ve ever seen. Definitely the most visceral–blood, entrails, smoke, incense, thumping, pounding rhythm and quavering pipes. I cried and I laughed and was generally transfixed. Here the cast sing a stirring Gaelic round for their curtain call in the beautiful Globe theatre on the Thames in …

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My friend Robin (from Altoona days!) arrived in Brighton today– the last stop on her month-long European tour of theaters, museums, and chocolate.

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This is the pre-ride shot. But I do have proof that AC did bare all on the Brighton Naked Ride, as did some hundreds others. At the end of the ride he apparently took a dip in the sea as well. According to one of his mates, he is now a full-fledged Brightonian.

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I am a timid cyclist. I love being outdoors and I love seeing new places and because I am married to an adventurous cyclist who is not at all timid, I get persuaded to try excursions that would otherwise never enter my mind. Such as yesterday: I had an idea to take Sam to watch the B&H gymnastics club competition. …

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After a day cycling around West Sussex (30 miles round trip! The things I let AC talk me into…) we return home to watch the England v. USA World Cup game. I think AC’s allegiance is clear.

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If you have tried to register for a user account lately and it’s failed, it’s not you, it’s me. Or rather, it’s my blog. Or WordPress! Or something. Regardless, it’s broken and has been broken ever since some or other migration from one machine to another. Honestly, I’ve lost track. For as many times as our family has …

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Sam: “Mom, I wrote you a poem!” Me: “Thank you!” Sam: “Read it! It’s British!” Me: “Sam, what do you mean here by ‘I rot?’ Did you mean to say ‘I got?'” Sam: “No. It’s supposed to be ‘rot.'” Me: “Uhh… what do you mean by that?” Sam: “Oh, you know, things dying and such. Look how I spelled ‘Mum!’ It’s British!” Poetic …

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