September 20, Somonauk.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Still there.
September 16, Vernon Hills.
McHenry and Vernon Hills, same lot as every year, great lots, and good news: the farm tucked in the middle of encroaching McHenry suburbia is still there and it's not for sale anymore, but thriving, it looks like, with horses and sheep and a truck in the driveway.
I almost said an alleluia.
McHenry and Vernon Hills, same lot as every year, great lots, and good news: the farm tucked in the middle of encroaching McHenry suburbia is still there and it's not for sale anymore, but thriving, it looks like, with horses and sheep and a truck in the driveway.
I almost said an alleluia.
He's back.
September 14, McHenry.
Fridman had been gone since Round Beach Lake, sent to Hugo to get a truck to replace the one that broke down last week. He flew down on Monday and arrived tonight, glad for the break in the endless circus routine but also to be back home after driving close to a thousand miles in two days in an old shaky truck without a radio to listen to.
Fridman had been gone since Round Beach Lake, sent to Hugo to get a truck to replace the one that broke down last week. He flew down on Monday and arrived tonight, glad for the break in the endless circus routine but also to be back home after driving close to a thousand miles in two days in an old shaky truck without a radio to listen to.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Puzzle.
September 12, Round Lake Beach.
I was working at the computer and Nicolas was singing and after a while, when I was finished, I turned around to see the floor covered with books, like a giant puzzle.
Kite.
September 11, Harvard.
We found the kite garage sailing yesterday.
Fridman made a tail out of bits of leftover costume fabric.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Lake in the Hills.
September 10, Lake in the Hills.
This is the town where the city voted an ordinance barring circuses from staying overnight, even though they keep wanting them to perform in their neighborhood, or so I surmise from the fact that we are asked back every year and do good business too.
Lake in the Hills is an exurb of Chicago, those suburbs on the fringe of the rural and metropolitan worlds, urban planning limbo, ecological nightmare, the sort of town that was carved and bulldozed out of farm land into rows of identical boxes later sold as American-dream homes by scores of developers, two-car garage looking bigger than the house itself, deck and the occasional pool in the backyard, arm-length contact with your neighbors, honey-I'm-home, and kids' effortless grace and joy in their soccer uniforms is not enough to dispel the malaise. The sight of these towns has always had a depressing effect on me, doubled by a sense of outrage that this could ever be an option, this life of dull, vacant plenty.
The park we're on is dirty, littered with cigarettes butts, ticket stubs and tiny bits of various plastic garbage, I started cleaning up in front of our trailer then quickly gave up. We pride ourselves on leaving the lots we play on cleaner than we found them, but it will be impossible here.
We'll be gone tonight.
This is the town where the city voted an ordinance barring circuses from staying overnight, even though they keep wanting them to perform in their neighborhood, or so I surmise from the fact that we are asked back every year and do good business too.
Lake in the Hills is an exurb of Chicago, those suburbs on the fringe of the rural and metropolitan worlds, urban planning limbo, ecological nightmare, the sort of town that was carved and bulldozed out of farm land into rows of identical boxes later sold as American-dream homes by scores of developers, two-car garage looking bigger than the house itself, deck and the occasional pool in the backyard, arm-length contact with your neighbors, honey-I'm-home, and kids' effortless grace and joy in their soccer uniforms is not enough to dispel the malaise. The sight of these towns has always had a depressing effect on me, doubled by a sense of outrage that this could ever be an option, this life of dull, vacant plenty.
The park we're on is dirty, littered with cigarettes butts, ticket stubs and tiny bits of various plastic garbage, I started cleaning up in front of our trailer then quickly gave up. We pride ourselves on leaving the lots we play on cleaner than we found them, but it will be impossible here.
We'll be gone tonight.
Friday, September 09, 2011
Baby shower.
September 9, Elmhurst.
Baby shower for Reyna in the big top today. Her daughter is due December 20th.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Berwyn.
September 8, Berwyn.
Every year we come to Berwyn, and every year it rains.
It pours, as in 2008, it drizzles, as in 2010, it pours again.
And every year the shows are packed.
Updates.
September 8, Berwyn.
Updates: It took all day to raise the new tent then take it down yesterday; the crew was still working at it well after we came back from the city at eight o'clock. Why subject the circus to this so close to the end of the season is what baffles me. As for Le Brone, he will be going back home to Florida. He has been advised against driving for a month but a friend of his is flying up to help him; we said goodbye this morning.
The generator truck gave out this morning too (bad truck,) right on the lot (good truck.) Julio Rosales drove back to haul the cargo. I waited a while then drove ahead when it looked certain that this was going to be more than just waiting for Castro to fix a tire.
And us: Dylan said what he liked best about the Art Institute was "the knives" (ancient Chinese jade artifacts dating back to the sixteenth century BC,) the "colored words" (an exhibition under the steps of the great hall whereas the artist installed sentences made of tiny light bulbs, each word a different color of primary red, yellow, green and blue,) and the education center, where we went last. Nicolas liked a painting depicting a lion attacking a desert horseman best.
The two of them stood gaping at the painting for the best of a minute, entirely silent and enthralled.
Updates: It took all day to raise the new tent then take it down yesterday; the crew was still working at it well after we came back from the city at eight o'clock. Why subject the circus to this so close to the end of the season is what baffles me. As for Le Brone, he will be going back home to Florida. He has been advised against driving for a month but a friend of his is flying up to help him; we said goodbye this morning.
The generator truck gave out this morning too (bad truck,) right on the lot (good truck.) Julio Rosales drove back to haul the cargo. I waited a while then drove ahead when it looked certain that this was going to be more than just waiting for Castro to fix a tire.
And us: Dylan said what he liked best about the Art Institute was "the knives" (ancient Chinese jade artifacts dating back to the sixteenth century BC,) the "colored words" (an exhibition under the steps of the great hall whereas the artist installed sentences made of tiny light bulbs, each word a different color of primary red, yellow, green and blue,) and the education center, where we went last. Nicolas liked a painting depicting a lion attacking a desert horseman best.
The two of them stood gaping at the painting for the best of a minute, entirely silent and enthralled.
Day off.
September 7, Posen.
The new tent is here and they will be trying it out today, a day off for performers.
We're heading for the Art Institute of Chicago.
It's breezy and cool, a perfect late summer day.
An accident.
September 6, Posen.
Le Brone apparently fell and injured himself during his daily walk this morning, but doesn't remember anything of what happened until he came to in his trailer all bloody and shocked. Jeremiah brought him to the hospital where they are doing tests to find out what happened to him.
Le Brone apparently fell and injured himself during his daily walk this morning, but doesn't remember anything of what happened until he came to in his trailer all bloody and shocked. Jeremiah brought him to the hospital where they are doing tests to find out what happened to him.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Gone.
September 6, Posen.
Circus news: Brian blew the circus.
He went away last night, leaving us to discover he had left when he didn't appear on the lot this morning. Marie Carmen will be cooking some days and Jeremiah the others.
Circus news: Brian blew the circus.
He went away last night, leaving us to discover he had left when he didn't appear on the lot this morning. Marie Carmen will be cooking some days and Jeremiah the others.
A trailer with a view.
September 6, Posen.
We turned the trailer around because we are parked near the generator and didn't wish to sit looking at it on top of hearing its roar all day.
Monday, September 05, 2011
Poetic motion.
September 5, Crete.
Second two-day stand this week, sweet, and resting.
The new tent will be set up on Wednesday, so tonight was the last day-time tear-down for the Kelly Miller Circus tent as we know it.
As the sun was setting the tent too was getting down, as if on cue, poetic motion, a Kodachrome goodbye.
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Friday, September 02, 2011
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Stuff.
September 1, DeMotte.
Garage sales (three,) tent sale, yard sale, moving sale, barn sale, everywhere you turned in DeMotte there was another one, and a car full of stuff to show for it, stuff to send home to Peru, stuff to send to friends in Hugo, and stuff just for us.
Life's insignificant agonies: there was a classy, almost-new white embroidered sofa with a large love seat for sale for fifty dollars or best offer, where do people get so much stuff that they then give it away?, but the trailer hasn't expanded yet.
In other news, there is another heat wave under way, sweltering as if we were in the dead of summer, and I can't wait for fall.
Garage sales (three,) tent sale, yard sale, moving sale, barn sale, everywhere you turned in DeMotte there was another one, and a car full of stuff to show for it, stuff to send home to Peru, stuff to send to friends in Hugo, and stuff just for us.
Life's insignificant agonies: there was a classy, almost-new white embroidered sofa with a large love seat for sale for fifty dollars or best offer, where do people get so much stuff that they then give it away?, but the trailer hasn't expanded yet.
In other news, there is another heat wave under way, sweltering as if we were in the dead of summer, and I can't wait for fall.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
