Tonight on my way home, I sat at a stoplight in a town just outside of Rockford, staring at a dilapidated abandoned house.  It is a commercial property, with a commercial real estate sign staked in the tall grass and weeds of the fenced-in pseudo-yard.

I don't know when it exactly it became what it is today, whether it was a slow process or an overnight abandonment.  I only know that four years ago or so, I sat at this same stoplight, staring at this same house, cursing my luck at not being able to secure a meeting inside.  This house was never a house.  It was the design center and central offices of a major home builder whose work my company never secured.  

I pictured the former occupants of the office house, remembering the way my office used to function at the peak of the housing boom, the way the phone never stopped ringing, five to twelve lines lit up all at once.  I wondered which window leads to the room where the receptionist sat when she took my calls, patiently taking my messages for calls that were never returned.

These days, I talk to very few assistants.  The builders that are still standing are doing a lot more of their own administrative tasks.  They call me themselves, they do the scheduling they used to farm out to an army of expeditors and middle-men.  Often, I'm surprised to hear from them at all.  Months pass between new home starts, rather than days.  And occasionally, like today, when they do call, it is to inform us that a developer has surrendered a property back to the bank and the home won't be started, won't be finished, or has been vandalized while nobody was watching.

I thought about the old days for most of my drive home, as I passed at least two more empty sales center buildings constructed to look like giant custom homes, their vinyl siding warping, cracks in the brick visible from the street, gutters starting to pull away already.  I wondered how many of those homes are now sitting empty in the same shape.  I wondered about the admins that I used to talk to every single day.

And there, but for the grace of a seasonally vital industry, go I.

I have been in a real movie-watching phase again.  I saw Cyrus last Thursday, Inception on Saturday, and Youth In Revolt (on DVD).  Cyrus made me super uncomfortable for pretty much the entire movie, and I may never be able to watch Jonah Hill on screen again.  And this may be a blessing.  Youth in Revolt was kinda meh. 

But Inception.  Ohhhhh.  Inception.  Loved it hard.  I sent Duke an email after I left that said "You need to see Inception, it features a hot chick architect who isn't just there to be killed off."  He replied with "Sounds like science fiction to me."  He has a real hang-up about architects in movies - they almost always exist only to say something enginerdy and then get crushed by a falling beam in the first 5 minutes.

I've been having strange dreams since I saw the movie, but I have to constantly remind myself that I have always had strange dreams, and it has nothing to do with the movie, I just have very vivid dreams and I'm only more creeped out by them now, they are not actually increasing in frequency or weirdness.

For readers with me since April or so, you may remember my "Empires Weren't Built Here" series that was supposed to contain a Part 4 that hasn't arrived yet.  The movie Inception may hasten/make possible the Part 4.  I've written it.  I've rewritten it.  It exists in a few different forms.  I'm quite glad that I didn't publish the first version, holding back out of some intense discomfort I have with the subject matter in light of the number of jumpers (suicides by train) that have taken place this spring/summer in the northwest suburbs, the emails that I get telling me that this train or that train will be late due to a "pedestrian incident".  Jim, who saw the movie with me, will probably be the only person who completely understands the physical reactions it provoked in me.  Suffice it to say that I went home that night and took a second, third, and twelfth look at Part 4.  I'm still not sure if I'm ready for it.

All of this is getting around to the point that I want to spend more time here, on DuJane, and I'm working on making that time possible.  I've been busy writing, just elsewhere and with other goals, but I need to refocus here too.  I dream of you, even on days other than Thursdays.

Yesterday, I bid farewell to my car, which rolled away on a truck headed for the garage of two nice young boys who pooled their paper route money to buy it from me on Craigslist.  (This may or may not be where they got their money, but they were so young and cheek-pinchable, it's the story I'm going to tell.)

Bye, Bean.

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I saw The English Beat and Squeeze in concert on Wednesday night with BLC, Amy and Dano.  I enjoyed both bands, but definitely liked Squeeze more.  I was also a little bit distracted by BLC, who leaned over and whisper-screamed "HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?  DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS ONE?" every single time they struck up a new song.  He was having some issues with the fact that I couldn't name a single song by either band before I arrived.  And answering with "OH SO THIS ISN'T JUST A COMMERCIAL?" didn't help the situation.

Luckily, he didn't hear the following convo during "Tenderness", because it probably would have put him into full cardiac arrest.

Jane:  Wow, this is their song?  I would have known who they were if this song had been listed in their singles on Wikipedia. 

Dano:  Maybe it wasn't a big hit.

Jane:  I know all the words!

Dano:  That's because it's in every movie.  It is the default song for the going on a first date fashion show dressing room montage.

Jane:  OHHH!  So that's why I have the urge to take this dress off, put on a different dress, and spin around in a circle. 

Dano:  Yeah, that's why.

So then Squeeze took the stage, and so did the most enormous bra I've ever seen in my life, so enormous that the guitar player at whom it was thrown looked absolutely terrified and sort of ran from it.  And then the keyboardist did an iPad solo.  No, really.  I weep. 

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I have a whole lot of nothing on my schedule this weekend.  I'm looking forward to it.

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This week, years past:

2009:  It only seems appropriate that this week's flashback would be the most disgusting conversation I've ever had with BLC.

2008:  I caught up on some reading.

2007:  Wedding fashion, featuring a naked lady mudflap belt buckle

Hey friends.  I am laying low this Sunday, already needing some serious naptime to recover from what's been a super fun weekend already.  Tomorrow's alarm clock will be harsh.

On Friday night, Dano and I went to see Toy Story 3, finally.  This is notable for a couple of reasons.  1.) I can't believe I managed to wait a full month after release to see it.  2.) It was Dano's first 3D movie, at least of the modern era of 3D.  I found out this tidbit when I was giggling at the little boys sitting a few seats away who were ooohing and ahhhhing over the effects in the previews, and I mentioned it to Dano, who then put his glasses on for the first time and said "ooooh WOW!" himself, sounding just like the 4 year-olds to our left.  Adorable.

I loved the movie, and of course I cried, and I wished my mom had been there.

Saturday morning, Dano emailed me from work to tell me to be ready to "go out" at a specific time.  The previous night, we'd been talking about going to see Inception together, so I figured his unspecified outing was going to be either that movie, or a fact-finding mission to a helmet shop that we've been planning for awhile as well.  (Likely to become The Enormous Gourd Incident 3:  Rise of the Visors.)  Instead, he drove me to a masseuse where he'd made reservations for us both for 60 minute massages.  A very very nice surprise.

We spent Saturday night hanging out with my pal Colleen and Dano's running buddy UltraFriend.  We started with Dano's famous homemade margaritas, then watched UltraFriend fire off an amazing fireworks show, and then took a trip on his boat for some bar pizza, a jukebox groupie, and golf cart shenanigans.  Our night ended at 4 am on Sunday with what will be the most oft-quoted conversation since the Mel Gibson recordings were released.  Dano wore his 3D glasses from Toy Story for the entire evening, occasionally interrupting the conversation to scream, "OH MY GOD EVERYTHING IS IN 3D" or "IT'S COMING RIGHT AT ME."

It's been awhile since the newspaper has beat me home and I've watched the sunrise before going to bed.  It's been too long really.  Mmmmm, bed.  I might go back there.

Zach Gingerich, who won the ultra marathon that my pal UltraFriend finished in May, won the Badwater ultra on Monday.  Very cool.

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I was proven right about men lying about their height on dating sites.  There's a reason I have no idea how tall 6'0" is:  online dating.  Thanks to Becca for pointing out this link.

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My parents are at Indiana Sprint Week, so last night I went to their house to water my dad's roses.  He says "The spigot is on the front side of the house, three bushes from the left, near your old bedroom window."  In my mind, I remember these bushes as being individual units.  When I arrived, I realized that they are in fact one mega-bush (yes, I used the word MEGA-BUSH just for Maureen) fused together.  About 4' tall, 4' deep, and I could not find any sort of passageway between them to get to the spigot to turn it on. 

So I'm standing in the front yard, picturing myself leaning over the hedge, falling, upside down, stuck behind the bushes, feet in the air, screaming, with nobody there to save me except maybe the kids across the street that I babysat for in high school who aren't there anyway because they are now in like graduate school because I'm old as heck, man.  And I thought "This is not the answer."

Instead, I crawled through a 10' tall demon rose bush on the back side of the house, chained together every garden hose I could find, and dragged it all the way around the house.  The heat was ridiculous and I had to stand there forever because the hose still wasn't long enough to get to the front half of the massive rose bed, so I had to do some creative water dispersion.  And then I left the whole hose conglomeration just laying there, in case it doesn't rain in the next day or so and I have to go back again, because dying in the MEGA-BUSH is not a choice.

Worth it.

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This week, years past:

2009:  What do you call a castrated sheep in an assless camo-print onesy?

2008:  Project Runway season 5 debuted (transcripts from PR Chat make me miss talking to Sing2Phins every week).  The new season starts on July 29th at 9/8c, for 90 minutes.

2007:  The BABY JESSICA incident

2006:  Scientology can't save your deformed baby, Tom Cruise.

From my drive home yesterday:

Back window says "I Dig Chicks" and the side says "Putting the fun in funerals."  Reminded me of Claire on Six Feet Under and her green hearse and the skeevy boyfriend with the toe fetish, which of course led me to watch clips from the first few episodes, which is where the title of this post came from.  Two of my favorite characters in the history of film have to be Claire and Ruth from Six Feet Under.

So this weekend didn't work out exactly as I planned it, because instead of hitting the World of Outlaws race in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, I blew the motor in my car instead.  Saturday night was spent moping and eventually coming to the realization that the car was 11 years old, had almost 200,000 miles on it, and needed twice its value in work in the immediate future, even before the engine seized.  On Sunday I picked up my other vehicle, the Chevy Silverado truck my dad gave me a couple of years ago, and I drove it home while enjoying such crazy luxuries as reliable brakes, an attached driver's side sun visor, working air conditioner, dome light that doesn't randomly turn on, a muffler that wasn't in danger of falling off at any point in time, and a rear view mirror that stays attached to the windshield.   And a radio that will play music from my Droid. 

I'm weighing a lot of options.  The truck spent yesterday in the shop getting some exhaust work done and a general inspection.  I am probably going to drive it for a couple of weeks to get a handle on just how much of a hit I will take in fuel mileage.  Based on its city driving statistics, it will be about $30 a week more than what my car was costing me, but I'm hoping to improve that number when I introduce it to my country roads and hypermiling skills.  $30 a week is worth it to me, at this point, to not have another full car payment, to have the comfort the truck gives me, and to be able to see over those damn corn fields that have blinded every intersection I travel through every single day.

My first choice, my first instinct, is to continue on with the plan I've had for a few months now, which is to buy a small and extremely fuel-efficient motorcycle.  This is something I've wanted since long before the car bit the dust, and having the truck for bad weather days and winter driving would still allow me that choice.  I have safety classes to take and a license to procure (items on the updated 101 list already) and the type of bike I want seems to be available everywhere I look.  So we'll see how it goes. 

There's always a hearse with a big block to consider too.

I had Friday on my vacation calendar at work for the last couple of months.  My original plan to fall from the sky fell through, and instead of showing up at work, I chose to take a mental health day and head downtown to bond with Chicago and cross a few things off of my perpetual list of things I want to do in the city.

I was the only person on my car on the train for a couple of stops.  While taking this photo, a woman walked into the car, sat down three rows ahead of me, gave me a look like she clearly thought I was a moron for staging photos of my train ticket.  Then she did her hair and makeup on the train.  Because that's so much more dignified.

Upon arrival at the station, I had a little bit of time to kill before Dano was sprung from workin' on the railroad to join me on my city frolic, so I headed to a cafe and phoned my Palindromic friend, who took a morning break to have a cup of coffee with me. 

In addition to coffee, I grabbed a chocolate croissant, the pain au chocolat that was my breakfast every single day that I spent in Paris.  The chocolate was not dark enough, but the memory was sufficiently sweet.

I met up with Dano, and we took a short walk to the big eyeball.

The eye is Tony Tasset's Eye, and it was just installed.  My primary objective for seeing it was to get this photo:

Yeah, he's looking at you.

From there, we strolled towards the Chicago Cultural Center, stopping occasionally to play with one of my camera lenses.

The Chicago Cultural Center is a fun building, with an Art-O-Mat machine that reminds me of my friend Bombadee's Tiny Drawing a Day project on Facebook. 

But the building is probably more famous for housing the world's largest Tiffany dome.

We explored a couple of other rooms, and took advantage of the lighted floors in the Grand Army of the Republic Rotunda to highlight our Vibram 5Fingers footwear.

And then we watched a ballerina do the space far more justice as part of her own photo shoot.

What brought us to the Center on Friday was an exhibit called Sullivan's Idea, featuring architect Louis Sullivan, who is (against his own wishes, we learned) called the "father of modernism".

Many parts of the exhibit dealt with Sullivan's extensive use of architectural terra cotta, with much of the final product coming from sculptor Kristian Schneider and the American Terra Cotta Tile and Ceramic Company in Crystal Lake, IL.

Sullivan used a lot of organic and botanical themes in his work, and was an avid rose gardener and photographer.  This wall made me think of my father's roses and my mother's Rose of the Day twitpic.

This model of the Chicago Stock Exchange was constructed from the prints themselves, and was gorgeous.

After the Sullivan exhibit, we jumped on the L to Lincoln Park and made a quick stop at The Counter for custom burgers.  Mine featured smoked provolone and garlic aioli and so many vegetables that it was 2' tall and I couldn't fit it in my mouth without unhinging my jaw.  Dano had a turkey burger with sprouts, spring greens, feta cheese, and a vinaigrette.  We had sweet potato fries with some kind of dipping sauce that neither of us can identify, and their website is down at the time I'm writing this (and linking to them . . . ) so I'm going to go with my original instinct that it was some kind of chipotle mayo.

We rushed from lunch to Landmark Century Centre for a screening of the new Julianne Moore/Annette Bening movie, The Kids Are All Right, which was released that day to a limited number of theaters.  If you have one of those theaters anywhere near you, go see it.  Amazing.  In addition to being a refreshingly honest and not emotionally manipulative movie, it gave me my new favorite non-curse curse, which I won't spoil here because it's so much better when I say it out loud.  Oh my stinkin' heck, you guys are going to love it.

Also?  Landmark has these:

ASSORTED flavor, bitches.  My last trip to IKEA was a crushing disappointment when they were out of the Assorted and only had the Original.  Now, my movie theater assortment only contained 5 fish that weren't red, but it's still better than nothing.  I love Swedish Fish more than should be allowed by law.

We flew out of the theater and raced back to the station to make the (immensely entertaining) train ride home.  Overall, an amazing day!

This is a short week on either end - no work on Monday because of the holiday, no work tomorrow because I took the day off to hang out with a friend who flaked, so I'm taking it as a mental health day and going to the city with my camera.

I'd promise pictures tomorrow night, but I know me.  Especially lately.  I promise I'll get those photos to you sometime before October.

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I will be in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin for the World of Outlaws sprint car race on Saturday night.  The rest of my family is partaking in Indiana Sprint Week, so feel free to say hi to them if you see them wandering around.  You know they're more fun than I am anyway.

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Chicago, or anywhere in the Chicago-ish area, is not a stop on Rosanne Cash's impending book tour.  Dudes.  CHICAGO.

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Shazam has been my favorite app for the last few days.  I use it to identify music playing wherever I'm at.  Things I've tagged lately:  Fleet Foxes, Josh Thompson (a Fan Letter coming soon), Silversun Pickups, When In Rome, Skillet, Joan Armatrading, and Stellar Kart.  All artists, songs, or funny stories I would have forgotten about or failed to note without my phone's magic music guessing app.

But at least it's an app that doesn't cost me a million dollars.  I'm one week and four whole brand new full-price books into Kindle for Android.  Somebody slow me down.

One of these days, I'll make a list of all of my favorite Android apps and why.  I rattle them off to people in the real world a lot, always forgetting who I am talking to.  So to all of the guys who have installed the Magic Girl Fairy Special Lady Times Visitor app . . . well.  Sorry.  But isn't the flower icon pretty?

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This week, years past:

2009:  Fencelessness: Notes on Love and Sprint Car Racing

2008:  Outdoor movies on the river

2007:  I met Mare.  This is handy proof that the extra person we've added to this memory wasn't actually there.

2006:  Somewhere I have never travelled.

July!  Yay!

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I downloaded the Amazon Kindle app that was just released for Android this week.  I have downloaded a couple of samples of books I'm interested in (Shogun, Mo!  Shogun!) but the best part of the e-book experience so far was clicking the link for items Amazon recommends I read based on my buying habits.  30+ books, split evenly between the topics of polygamy and mommy-blogging.  I have purchased one book that fits into each category, ever.  Though I didn't investigate too deeply, I didn't see any books that fit into both categories simultaneously.

Clearly, I should be working on filling the underserved polygamist mommyblogger niche.

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Mare and her husband will be flying in to spend the weekend with me, and I'm ecstatic!  On Saturday night, we'll be in Wilmot, WI for an IRA sprint car race, and we'll spend Sunday in Chicago having all of the fun.  All of it.  There will be none left for the rest of you.

After they head home, I'll be back in Chicago on Monday night to see Rush perform the Moving Pictures album, which was released about a month before I was born, yet is the only Rush album that contains songs I recognize.  Lucky tour planning for me, eh?  I'm not a huge fan of Rush's music, but one of my favorite authors is Neil Peart, so I feel an obligation to experience his lyrics and music as well.

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Tweet of the week?  This one.  Science discovered this week that lady fish are attracted to male fish with mustache-looking growths over their lips.  This would explain why my goldfish don't appear to be lovin' much.  Goldfish mustaches seems like a solid business plan.  Much like fish Snuggies.

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I have a new Starbucks soulmate.  Passion iced tea lemonade, unsweetened, blended.  It is amazing.  And neon pink.  And go try it right now.

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This week, years past:

2009:  I spent a Sunday on the bike.  The video in this post makes me really excited about the potential for Flip video on a motorcycle trip I have planned for September.

2008:  Some photos of my brother when he had funnier hair, was drunk, and was dancing.

2007:  Duke and Marc worked together to help me avoid homesickness.

2006:  I flashed my apartment maintenance guy.

It's a bright sunny day out there!  I am pretty sure that this is the first time in like 12 years that it has stopped raining and we haven't been under a tornado warning.  Something like that.

I'm going to celebrate by having dinner with my Great (I can't capitalize Great enough here) Aunt S tonight.

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Debbie Gibson and Tiffany are going to be foes in a movie called "Mega Python vs. Gatoroid."  All of my wildest dreams are coming true.

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Text of the Week, from my mother:  "Overheard at Rockford Speedway 'You tell Talladega she is a bitch, her name suits her'."

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The Tweet of the Week is definitely the one where I get invited into a basement.  People are always warning me about that happening with these internet people.

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This week, years past:

2009:  I meet BLC & Amy and Dano utters the "Baby" Heard 'Round the World in the comments.

2008:  In more comments fun, Wags calls Uncle Joey a duplicitous sonofabitch.

2007:  Christ picks up Minica and Duke confuses Liza Minelli and Linda Ronstadt.

2006:  A dear friend and guest blogger shares her story as an egg donor.

The weather here has been gross for at least a week.

This was after the tornado sirens stopped sounding on Monday night.