Duchess Jane

And for the sake of journalistic integrity, I include things that I didn't intentionally grow, but have grown to admire anyway.

Duke and I have stopped at the Shady Lane Farm site outside of Marengo, IL a few times a year on the motorcycle, and always once in May as part of the Little Angels ride, a tradition that started due to a torrential rainstorm my first year on the ride.

Over the weekend, the old theater at the Shady Lane Farm burned to the ground.  Dano was detoured around the area on his way home from our house after roller derby.  He mentioned a fire, but I didn't put it together until today.

I had planned to stop and take pictures without even knowing about the fire.  I've been fascinated by this place for a very long time, always wanting to know more about its history, and never having my "good" camera with me on the motorcycle.

So I stopped, with the good camera, on a bright sunny day.  Honestly, I had intentions of breaking into the restaurant to see what it was like inside.  I quickly scrapped that plan, realizing that the entire area was probably under some kind of periodic surveillance, given that the fire is still smoldering.

According to the previously linked article, this building was a theater.  Some have mused about its potential as a race shop.

I always focused on the restaurant.  I pictured myself in the middle of a party there, in the 50s, drinking something classy, wearing gloves and that skirt that hit just there on my knee and a pair of beautiful heels.  Throwing my head back at an angle while I laughed at a joke told over swinging jazz music.

Perhaps I'm not the only one who wants to see it in its glory.  Hope springs eternal.

Wrecks and I are both hiding.

We are in the middle of a horrendous power-flickering thunderstorm, and he won't leave my lap, cuddled up under a blanket.

I am hiding from the real world in a good book. So I have no real reason to displace him. We are a good pair today.

*Sent from Louise, my sweet mobile internet robot.*

I went to Chicago with Dano for the Edvard Munch exhibit at the Art Institute.  I have lots to say.  Just not right now.

So I started writing a super super schmoopy post a few minutes ago, and then I started crying, and then I went looking for a really old post that I wanted to link to, and I couldn't find it, because maybe I deleted it years ago in a fit of self-consciousness, and then I cried some more.

And then I found this.  Probably one of the greatest results of having a website:  a post about auto racing and hockey, followed by a haiku showdown with Mon Danzullo, my Congressional representative in disguise.  With a healthy dose of Los Portales guacamole, Project Runway references, and even a psychic mention of my recently-diagnosed attraction to men who have experienced head injuries.

So after reading through that, it's pretty much impossible for me to continue crying, in fact, I can't stop laughing.

Therefore, I must test my theory that Mon Danzullo is still out there, still reading, despite his busy busy schedule.  He's on Twitter.  So he could totally still be reading here, right?

Our sweet hot love lost
Nonproliferation, yo
Show me your caucus

I don't think he'll be able to resist.

(Oh, and PS, I actually do own gauntlets.  If you're my Facebook friend, you knew that already.)