MARTHA STEWART'S GOT NOTHING ON ME.

I am doing a piece of music with one of my bands that calls for rainsticks. Real rainsticks are expensive. So I found a website (all hail the internet) that shows you how to make one out of mailing tubes and dried corn. I made the first one last week with the help of my good friend, P.McQ and her cute little spawn. I showed it to my kids the next day at school and they were actually impressed!

In case you've forgotten, middle school kids are highly apathetic and, even if they think something is really cool and interesting, they work very hard NOT to show it. But there were definitely a few sparks, and three kids have already brought in rainsticks they themselves made at home. So I'm gonna run with it, damn it.

Tonight I decided to make another one. I got really big mailing tubes this time and sat on my floor with my hammer, nails and a cup of tea. And I watched about an hour of this horrendous TV-movie about what life will be like when the Bird Flu hits us. What a grim depiction. We are so fucked. The scene where the dump truck drops a load of dead bodies (wrapped in sheets and duct tape) into a ditch was about all I could take.

Luckily, since I am becoming Martha Stewart, I plan to be quarantined on house arrest. So while all you suckers are coughing up your lungs, I'll be making sweet centerpieces out of IV bags, and brewing up pots of Cipro tea.