This weekend, I introduced many people to the joys of croquet. And I got introduced to a kindred spirit, though that’s a subject for another time. My cast and crew and I capped off six hours of set construction with a cookout party at the theater. A good time was had by all, but the best time was had by those who played croquet. That’s just how it works, you know. My fabulous friend Steve took pictures, and I’ve put the highlights here, if you want to look. They’re high quality (meaning large – 400 kb or so). The first game clearly emphasized knocking balls around the course more than hurrying through the wickets. I got sent into the street early on, putting me on the bad side of a curb. Nothing a little improvised ramp couldn’t solve, though it still took four shots, and I ended up in the street a few shots later. The back of the theater had a big bed of rocks that was a deathtrap to any balls sent there. Of course, they tried to send me there when they got the chance. It didn’t work, and [paybacks were had. One of the most enjoyable aspects of the game was the cute hazard on the course. This little fellow, seen here emulating Dad, liked to chase balls around the course. He was particularly fond of his dad’s ball, and when one of us would hit it, before we could send it where we wanted, the little fellow would pick it up and go give it to Dad. Very protective, he was. Partway through the second game, the croquet pitch was shared with a wiffleball game. That added to the fun, of course. In this photo, wittily titled “The Pitch” (You see, it shows not only the croquet course, sometimes called a pitch, but also someone throwing a wiffleball at a batter, also called … I know, it’s a stretch at a witticism, but then, that’s me all over.), you can see me preparing to swing wildly at the big red wiffleball. That’s my newly-met kindred spirit standing near me, trying to avoid the wiffleball. A few seconds later, I hit her on the ear with a mighty foul anyway. Just call me Mr. Good First Impression. It was a fine Saturday evening all around, and a great way to relieve the stress that had been rapidly building.

There’s a cheesemakers’ web ring. I should have guessed. There’s 21 sites listed, ranging from professionals to people like me.

Concangis is the Roman name for Chester-le-Street, a place in County Durham, Great Britain. It was excavated in 1990-1991, and the excavation is completely documented on-line. This is the most complete documentation I’ve seen on an archaeological excavation and is of interest to academics and lay persons alike. It brings together popular accounts of the dig, academic papers, photos, and even the daily journal of the person in charge. One artifact found was a portion of a cheese press.

Leener’s Brew Works is your Do-It-At-Home Store specializing in food and beverage homecraft. Their list of supplies and books seems exhaustive, and I’ve only just begun poking around.

Athens has plenty of oddities, and that’s one reason why I like it so much. An example: one of the music scene’s hottest commodities is The 8-Track Gorilla. The news story at the other end of the link goes into detail, but the short of it is he’s a gorilla with a portable 8-Track player hanging around his neck. He plays 8-Tracks and sings along. A simple concept, but the execution is sheer genious. Next, enter the Gorilla’s nemisis… the Athens Spy Cars. Again, the news story at the other end explains it all (yesterday’s Athens Banner-Herald was a good one), but the short of it is there’s a fleet of art cars around town that are painted primarily red, blue, and yellow (that pun’s for you, Al), and have many gadgets mounted on them. If you’re in town, you can’t miss ’em.

A rails-to-trails project may finally be coming to Athens, though not without a fight. I’ve mentioned Rails to Trails here before – they’re my favorite organization – so you know what side of the fight I’m on. It all comes down to money, of course.

I bought a croquet set today. The only thing a big yard needs as much as a wonderful garden is a croquet course. I had a heck of a time finding a quality set, too. I had to settle for the Wilson set from Walmart ($38, pretty decent quality), and that was after an hour of shopping store to store. People just don’t seem to have any respect for what is certainly the best outdoor game there is. Once upon a time, before trendy teens started wearing Abercrombie & Fitch clothes to show how trendy they were, snobby croquet players went to Abercrombie & Fitch to purchase the best in croquet equipment. Oh… after a quick browse, I see there’s plenty of places to get quality (by “quality” I mean “Mighy expensive”) croquet sets. Sporting Classics is one such merchant, who also sells a line of “Sherlockiana” for you Sherlockians out there. Funny… Walmart wasn’t mentioned anywhere. As I left the place, the lady who was checking my receipt to make sure I wasn’t stealing the set, who was about 140 and very nice, said “It’s too hot to be playing croquet!” That’s where she’s wrong. It’s too hot to be playing soccer or basketball or even horseshoes, but it’s never too hot to play croquet. Not when you’ve got lemonade.

Some time ago, Ilinked to Senator Kelly’s campaign Web site. He’s running on an anti-mutant platform. It appears that it’s been hacked by the Mutant Underground to celebrate the Fouth of July. Keep in mind that this is all sly advertising for the X-Men movie. Thanks to Kevin Murphy for spotting the “hack”.

A Russian scientist has invented gasoline-powered boots that will let the wearer run at speeds of 25 miles per hour for periods of twenty minutes. Go go gadget boots! These things (especially the accompanying graphic) remind me of my days playing the wonderful role-playing game Paranoia, set in a darkly humorous future. Missions often began with a trip to the R&D; labs (much like James Bond) where the players were given many potentially deadly devices that they had to use (and complete the multi-pages surveys that came with). Devices such as jet-boots. And tactical nuclear hand granades (“Pull the pin, throw, and run. Very, very fast. Maybe while wearing the jet-boots.”). Ah… those were the days.

On NPR this morning I heard someone advocate the logical extention to the “reality-based” TV craze: a show called “A Big Room with a Pile of Money and a Bunch of Knives “. He says the budget would be rather reasonable, as you’d only need a big room, a pile of money, and a bunch of knives. Spinoff potential? You betcha! “Celebrities in a Big Room with a Pile of Money and a Bunch of Knives who want to Marry Someone Else in a Big Room with a Pile of Money and a Bunch of Knives "