One of our first stops was the Louvre where we saw:


Mesdemoiselles Chasseriau, Les Deux Soeurs – Theodore Chasseriau, French, 1843

This picture barely conveys what a HUGE place this is.


This was Napolean’s Dining Room.  Bastard.

Napolean’s sitting room.  Bastard.

Again, Napolean’s sitting room.  Again, Bastard.



We HAD to go see Gertrude and Alice’s place!  We sat for a cafe right down the street and imagined her and Picasso doing the same thing.  I wrote a poem there….of course!  I also found a green necklace right on the windowsill, as if it was left for me!

Oh, Mona.  I call this one “Art Matters.”

The fountain where we swear we saw the psycho killer who was on the loose at the same time we were there:



Notre Dame:

Notre Dudes Dudes Dudes

More Dudes Dudes Dudes

through my sunglasses:

this is a code that you will soon be able to crack!!  :)




Tom and Jerry re-invented!!





We loved this artist’s stuff:  EdouardBuzon

This was Brancusi’s studio:

And of course, Alligators for sale..


That’s us

What you can’t see is the blisters on my feet from the hike to the Eiffel Tower…


Paris!  Je t’aime!!!!



Uh Ohs

I have the poison ivy Uh Ohs

Ax Back

I’ve been clearing the path to the little river. Just call me LumberBitch. Today, I definitely have Ax Back. Ouch.


I had a surprise visit from my niece this week.  What a pleasure to be in the little cabin, down at the river, running around with the dogs for two days, getting to see this place through a kids’ eyes.

Here she is with Einstein


Here is the bowl of red clover blossoms I collected the other day, which are dried and ready for tea

I swear I’ll post my Paris and London pics soon!  I’m SO busy cookin’ dinner in my bathing suit I hardly have time to turn around




Jet Lag

Woke up in Coventry (England—my parents’ hometown) at 4:45 am

took the bus down to London’s Victoria Station, got there at 8:30

took the Underground then a bus to Suzanne’s flat

picked up the instruments, gear, and heavy stuff

ate a tomato salad, brown rice and broccoli

Stretched and took Vitamin C


Got back on the bus, balanced the bags

as we bounced to the station

Undergrounded to Heathrow Airport

(thank the goddess for reading materials—long ass ride)

wheeled to departures, checked heavy ass bags



(they kept our Lemon Curd and Branston Pickle–

new kind of liquids)


[**remind me later to set up some sort of program with airports

to get all the food they confiscate to people who need and could use it--

Security Dude says they put theirs into an incinerator]]


Trammed to Terminal 5

Negotiated instruments into the first class closet

Flew over the Atlantic

Lots of reading materials

ate pre-ordered gluten-free meals’

served in microwaved plastic

(the amount of landfill waste

we were encouraged to make was mountainous)


Slept with crooked necks

Flipped through my Jubilee Special magazine

I love the Queen



Customs lines

Mildly hallucinated while we queued

delerious and chatted with drunk English dude

Passports approved

Customs bags claimed

through more lines, wheeling and lifting

re-checked bags


Wanted to walk to our connecting flight

But was told it was impossible

Trammed to Terminal 3


Homeland Security

we had to re-go through security

Much to our devastation and insecurity

Re-negotiate instruments as carry ons

Re-negotiate shoes, metal objects

and liquids oh liquids


Gate L6A

Puddle jumper to Toledo

then carred to Detroit


All in all–a 30 hour journey


Thank the goddess for tomatoes


and the mattress that now awaits









Anyone who knows me knows I’m kind of obsessed with murderers.

Imagine my eerie delight when, last night, I realized that wanted murderer Luka Rocco Magnotta was fleeing police in Paris last week, at the same time Alligator and I were there!

This guy is nuts—and I spent the rest of the evening reading about him, until I got so creeped out I had to log off and take a bath!


Here he is in Paris


Here he is right after he killed someone, going through security at the Montreal airport.  Creepy!!


And here’s the guy who recognized him at his internet cafe in Berlin, where he fled, by bus, just before we fled Paris by bus…..



It’s London.  It’s drizzly.  It’s a party anyway.










It’s the Queen’s Jubilee here in London.  60 years on the throne.  Everyone’s honking, waving flags.  We are going into town to see the Picasso exhibit at the Tate and Jubilee-ing.

If we can figure out a sane way to cross the street I will live to tell the tale…

Go Elizabeth!  Go Elizabeth!


We travelled from Paris yesterday and were detained at the border!  It was crazy!  The dude–who was more like a chihuahua looking for a fight—decided we were sketchy because we didn’t know what airline we were flying home 12 days from now which seems forever away.

Obviously, Chihuahua Man has never toured.

There is a spaghetti brain function that starts happening once you’ve traveled to 4 different countries, 8 different citites–played your heart out, talked to a million people, dragged your shit in and out of each venue, then each hotel room–all in 10 days.  Knowing the brand of airline that got me on my Orbitz search when I booked the thing eons ago is not the first thing on my mind.

The other thing is—I’m a dual citizen—so I have a British passport, but presented my US passport, thinking it would somehow look less sketchy since Billie and I were together. I dunno–reference TOUR BRAIN again, this all seems dreamily clear.

There was a really nice man who was in charge of pointing out the free coffee machine in the detainee room, offering us food, and showing us to the bathroom.  Total Ricky Gervais comedien type, working at the border between France and the UK.  He made the situation bearable.

The funniest thing is, the whole time we were in the detainee room, Chihuahua Man was reading my blog!  Testing my story–seeing if it all lined up!  Haha who knows what he read!  HEe HEE it was hard to keep a straight face when, in the “interview”–where his main goal seemed to be to trip me up, he pulled out printed pages from my blog, my website, recounted things he had read!


I love when worlds collide.

And let’s all just fucking pray for people who are trying to flee horrible regimes, or trying to be near their families to have a peaceful life, who are kept in those rooms, treated like shit, turned away, etc. because of the weird and racist rules we have invented to try to maintain borders.

When we got to our friend’s house in London, we ate this for dinner and I wrote a poem.

I’ll post about Paris tomorrow!


We are

cutting up watermelon

after a 4 country journey

detained at the border

Our white privelege,

women scared,

trans unknowing,

crying in the detainee room


Now, finally landed,

sweet juice of passing

made up borders

Phew in our food,

we eat.