The other day, while I was in the shower, washing my hair, I got to thinking about personal rituals or routines, the kinds of things that in other discussions with other people would be described as obsessive-compulsive behavior. And I wondered when we, as humans, began giving everything such a negative connotation.
Why is not only perfectly acceptable, in fact, almost required, for athletes, professional or amateur, to have "winning rituals?" We all wonder when the "rally caps" will come out in baseball games. We ask winning football coaches if the team is changing their socks, or participating in "No-Shave November" in order to get into the playoffs.
Why, then, is it something shameful for the average person have similar rituals or routines? I am not talking about a true diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder; I am discussing average everyday people, doing average, everyday things. I thought of it as I was washing my hair; what I do first in the shower...always. I wash my hair, then my body, then my face. The pattern never varies. After the shower, I dry my face, then wrap a towel around my hair, after which I dry myself in the same, never varying pattern -- right arm, left arm, front torso, right leg, left leg, back torso. Many people would consider this obsessive behavior. But I am sure those same people do the same tasks in a similar pattern. Everything from tooth brushing to putting on socks and shoes to dish washing has a pattern. No one person does it in the same pattern, but everyone has their own rituals and routines for performing everyday tasks.
Feline researchers followed cats in rural England for over two years. I do not remember what they were specifically researching, but they found something completely unexpected. Everyone knew that cats are creatures of habit and routine, but the researchers were surprised to find how strictly cats adhere to their own personal cat schedules. The farm cats patrolled what they considered their territory in the same pattern, using the same paths, in the same order, at the same time, within minutes, everyday. One cat was so regular in his daily patrol that you could literally set a watch to when the cat past a particular post.
I see this same phenomenon, on a much smaller scale, with my own cat. I know that if it is 10:00 a.m., she will be in the sliding glass door sunning herself. At 7:00 p.m. you will find her slinking away to a not so hidden hidey-hole (a box with cutout shapes all over that has been lined with lambswool), because she knows that her daily dose of fluid will be coming within the hour. She sleeps on the foot of my bed for most of the night. But for some reason, when 4:15 a.m. comes, she gets up, has a bit of a bath and moves to the floor in front of my dresser. I do not know what marks the time to move from the warm bed to the floor, or how she knows, often within seconds, that it is time to move. I just know that she does.
Similarly, I know that my right foot needs to have its sock put on before my left foot. I know that my upper right teeth are the last to be flossed and that the bathtub should be scrubbed in a clockwise direction starting from the middle of the front side.
None of this means I am obsessive or compulsive, it all just means I am human. And all humans have rituals and routines that ground our days.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Rose Ribbons
Today is December 1, a day which is known as World AIDS Day.
I find it interesting to note that Yahoo and other websites have changed their logo banners to mark the day, with red ribbons and slogans like "Act Aware" but Google, arguably the largest search engine and one of the most visited websites went with a 55th Anniversary of Rosa Parks' refusal to get up as the Google Doodle of the day. I was so hoping to have a red ribbon woven through the Google logo...
I find it interesting to note that Yahoo and other websites have changed their logo banners to mark the day, with red ribbons and slogans like "Act Aware" but Google, arguably the largest search engine and one of the most visited websites went with a 55th Anniversary of Rosa Parks' refusal to get up as the Google Doodle of the day. I was so hoping to have a red ribbon woven through the Google logo...
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Similar Differences
day 30 – a dream for the future
Notwithstanding the previous post, I do have dreams for the future. I want the American Dream: a home, with a cat, a dog, and a husband who loves me. I want a good, satisfying job, though it need not necessarily be one that will make me rich. As long as I can pay for necessities and (frequent) splurges, I am happy. I do not need to be rich, just comfortable.
Okay, Hallmark sappiness aside, the one thing I would really like to do would be to introduce my husband to all the places I have been and explore more and different places with him. I am not exactly struck with a case of wanderlust, as I always want to come back home after my travels, but I do want to see the world, experience new places and new cultures, have new adventures, and check out the differences in something as universal as a McDonald’s. Yes, I do go to McDonald’s while I am traveling. Sometimes because it is cheap and available, but more often because I want to see the differences in something so familiar. I make no apologies for using McDonald’s as a judge of the similarities and differences in places. Its very ubiquity and consistency makes it a fair and accurate judge in my mind. I also like to have familiar dishes or cuisines – like Chinese or Italian favorites – everywhere I travel as well. Judging interpretations of familiar things is the best way for me to find where the differences lie, and you discover some very nice things that way. Travel is broadening, but only if you are open to it, and you have to start inside your comfort zone to expand it.
My dream for the future would be to explore my favorite places with my husband. See them not only through my own eyes, but his as well.
I am gladly accepting donations for our travel fund ... Perth and Oslo are first up on my wish list for us.
Notwithstanding the previous post, I do have dreams for the future. I want the American Dream: a home, with a cat, a dog, and a husband who loves me. I want a good, satisfying job, though it need not necessarily be one that will make me rich. As long as I can pay for necessities and (frequent) splurges, I am happy. I do not need to be rich, just comfortable.
Okay, Hallmark sappiness aside, the one thing I would really like to do would be to introduce my husband to all the places I have been and explore more and different places with him. I am not exactly struck with a case of wanderlust, as I always want to come back home after my travels, but I do want to see the world, experience new places and new cultures, have new adventures, and check out the differences in something as universal as a McDonald’s. Yes, I do go to McDonald’s while I am traveling. Sometimes because it is cheap and available, but more often because I want to see the differences in something so familiar. I make no apologies for using McDonald’s as a judge of the similarities and differences in places. Its very ubiquity and consistency makes it a fair and accurate judge in my mind. I also like to have familiar dishes or cuisines – like Chinese or Italian favorites – everywhere I travel as well. Judging interpretations of familiar things is the best way for me to find where the differences lie, and you discover some very nice things that way. Travel is broadening, but only if you are open to it, and you have to start inside your comfort zone to expand it.
My dream for the future would be to explore my favorite places with my husband. See them not only through my own eyes, but his as well.
I am gladly accepting donations for our travel fund ... Perth and Oslo are first up on my wish list for us.
Letting Go of Myself
day 29 – hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
I am quite often day dreaming, and I like to have plans and details worked out well in advance of needing them. I dislike very much not knowing what to expect. But this year, my life has been very much in turmoil, waiting on bureaucratic government agencies to make decisions and, once decisions had been made, trying to figure out whet they mean and how to adequately plan in light of the decisions. It’s been a very frustrating year for me, a natural planner. As such, I really have no set plans for the next 365 days. I know what I would like to happen, but even voicing that much seems to make to a contract, give a deadline, and open myself up for disappointment if things cannot materialize the way I hoped. It’s been a year in flux and I have had to try very hard not to make plans or dream too much. Until things are settled, I am holding off on planning for the future in any real way, including giving voice to my hopes and dreams.
I am quite often day dreaming, and I like to have plans and details worked out well in advance of needing them. I dislike very much not knowing what to expect. But this year, my life has been very much in turmoil, waiting on bureaucratic government agencies to make decisions and, once decisions had been made, trying to figure out whet they mean and how to adequately plan in light of the decisions. It’s been a very frustrating year for me, a natural planner. As such, I really have no set plans for the next 365 days. I know what I would like to happen, but even voicing that much seems to make to a contract, give a deadline, and open myself up for disappointment if things cannot materialize the way I hoped. It’s been a year in flux and I have had to try very hard not to make plans or dream too much. Until things are settled, I am holding off on planning for the future in any real way, including giving voice to my hopes and dreams.
The World on a String
day 28 – what’s in my handbag/purse
I am so not a typical girly-girl. Usually I prefer to have only a wallet on a string, which has in it various forms of money (cash – the bill amount varies, as does the coinage, but there is almost always $2.35 in coins in my purse divided so that I can make change in any situation; checks; and credit cards) along with id and customer reward program cards. My cell phone fits nicely in the coin packet, so usually that is all I have with me at any time. Occasionally I will drop a lip balm in the coin pocket, but not very often. I also use my wallet as storage for my receipts until I clean out my purse. If I am going somewhere fancy and need a little black bag, I will pop in $20-$40 cash, id, a credit card, and lip balm, and hope the bag is big enough to fit my cell phone. If I know I will need space – either on vacation or someplace where I will have to be waiting, I will pop the wallet on a string into a larger bag, with room for a book, my camera and/or other tourist-necessitated things and small purchases. I hate to carry more than one bag if I can avoid it, and prefer the smallest bag possible for the situation.
Now if more women’s clothing were made with pockets, I would most likely ditch a purse altogether for everydays and go for a tiny pocket wallet. I am so not a typical girly-girl.
I am so not a typical girly-girl. Usually I prefer to have only a wallet on a string, which has in it various forms of money (cash – the bill amount varies, as does the coinage, but there is almost always $2.35 in coins in my purse divided so that I can make change in any situation; checks; and credit cards) along with id and customer reward program cards. My cell phone fits nicely in the coin packet, so usually that is all I have with me at any time. Occasionally I will drop a lip balm in the coin pocket, but not very often. I also use my wallet as storage for my receipts until I clean out my purse. If I am going somewhere fancy and need a little black bag, I will pop in $20-$40 cash, id, a credit card, and lip balm, and hope the bag is big enough to fit my cell phone. If I know I will need space – either on vacation or someplace where I will have to be waiting, I will pop the wallet on a string into a larger bag, with room for a book, my camera and/or other tourist-necessitated things and small purchases. I hate to carry more than one bag if I can avoid it, and prefer the smallest bag possible for the situation.
Now if more women’s clothing were made with pockets, I would most likely ditch a purse altogether for everydays and go for a tiny pocket wallet. I am so not a typical girly-girl.
In Lynn I Trust
day 27 - my worst habit
I think this is the hardest of all the topics in the 30-day blog challenge. I am not sure which of my many bad habits is the worse. In one way or another I commit all 7 deadly sins regularly, which pretty much sums up my bad habits in general terms: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride. Yep, all my bad habits are included in those.
Often I want things I cannot have; I overindulge in things too often; I hoard things and am not likely to share them; left to my own devices, I am quite lazy and loath to get anything done; I have an anger streak the likes of which you would never expect from someone usually quiet and reserved; Jealousy is my worst enemy, and I cannot count the number of times I have been blinded by the green-eyed monster in my sight; and while I am not too often proud, I am at the least opportune times.
But still, I do not really count any of those as my worst habit. I really cannot quantify my worst habit. I am my own worst judge, and I know it, but even with all the self-depreciation I can muster, I cannot pick my worst habit. I considered asking my friends and family for suggestions, but then it hit me. That is my worst habit...not trusting myself when I know myself better than anyone else. It has been my downfall in more situations than I can count -- from things as big as destroying a friendship to things as small as not posting a well-composed and well-researched response to a blog or message board post. I know the right answer and I know the right thing to do, but too often I do not trust myself. Instead, I go seeking advice from others. And I will feel bad if I do not take their advice, but when I take it, I feel worse for not doing what I thought - no, knew - to be the right thing all along.
Yes, my worst habit is not trusting myself enough to listen to myself and do the right thing. Now, if only I could figure out how to overcome this...to bring to the dance floor the mousy brown, wallflower girl I know myself to be.
I think this is the hardest of all the topics in the 30-day blog challenge. I am not sure which of my many bad habits is the worse. In one way or another I commit all 7 deadly sins regularly, which pretty much sums up my bad habits in general terms: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride. Yep, all my bad habits are included in those.
Often I want things I cannot have; I overindulge in things too often; I hoard things and am not likely to share them; left to my own devices, I am quite lazy and loath to get anything done; I have an anger streak the likes of which you would never expect from someone usually quiet and reserved; Jealousy is my worst enemy, and I cannot count the number of times I have been blinded by the green-eyed monster in my sight; and while I am not too often proud, I am at the least opportune times.
But still, I do not really count any of those as my worst habit. I really cannot quantify my worst habit. I am my own worst judge, and I know it, but even with all the self-depreciation I can muster, I cannot pick my worst habit. I considered asking my friends and family for suggestions, but then it hit me. That is my worst habit...not trusting myself when I know myself better than anyone else. It has been my downfall in more situations than I can count -- from things as big as destroying a friendship to things as small as not posting a well-composed and well-researched response to a blog or message board post. I know the right answer and I know the right thing to do, but too often I do not trust myself. Instead, I go seeking advice from others. And I will feel bad if I do not take their advice, but when I take it, I feel worse for not doing what I thought - no, knew - to be the right thing all along.
Yes, my worst habit is not trusting myself enough to listen to myself and do the right thing. Now, if only I could figure out how to overcome this...to bring to the dance floor the mousy brown, wallflower girl I know myself to be.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Days Turning Into Weeks
day 26 - your week in detail
This was probably not one of the better weeks to do this experiment. Being a holiday week, it was all over unusual. And moreover, it was a 4-day weekend holiday week. But here goes:
Saturday, November 20
We had a whole bunch of errands and we wanted to see RED with my Dad. So we planned our errands around the movie time, and a meal at a favorite local restaurant that features braised veal on Saturday. The day began later than I prefer to get my errands done, but the movie was for 4:20 and we didn’t want to go and come and go and come. So about 2:00 we headed out to the first stop – Lowe’s for some boxes and packing supplies, as well as light bulbs as we had burned out the last 200 Watt bulb for the living room lamp. After Lowe’s it was time for dinner, and we had books and intended to take our time. My Dad had the Saturday veal special, while my brother had a Philly cheesesteak panini and my mother and I split the special autumn menu pork chop feature. I added a side of mashed sweet potatoes to the dirty rice. After main courses, we all split an order of the autumn special feature cupcake trio. I had half a carrot cake cupcake, my mother had half a red velvet cupcake, and my father had half a dark chocolate fudge cupcake. My brother had half of all three varieties. After dinner we still had some time to kill before our movies – mom, dad and I saw RED, while my brother saw the new Harry Potter movie, so we sat in the cool shade and read our books. Before entering the theater, we stopped for snacks where I had a blue raspberry Icee and split a small bag of popcorn (no butter) with Mom and Dad. They shared a Mr. Pibb to wash down the popcorn. After the movie was over – our movies ended within 20 minutes of each other, we headed to the next stop on our list, Target, where they were having a sale on laundry detergent and a couple of other things we needed. Then we hit Walgreen’s drugstore where heat wraps were on sale. After that it was home for the evening. We got home just in time to give the cat her daily dose of fluids and to veg out with some tv.
Sunday, November 21
This was to be my day to stay at home, only we had a few leftover errands from the day before. Mom and my brother had weather-induced headaches, so Dad and I went grocery shopping. We needed a few things from the grocery, including a turkey for Thanksgiving and some stain remover sticks for the laundry. First stop was WalMart where I checked first for the turkey I wanted, and being unsuccessful, ran to pick up the stain remover sticks, which I can only find at WalMart. A very nice lady, seeing as I had only the 3 stain sticks, allowed me to check-out before her. I hope she got a nice reward sometime for that act of kindness. Having struck out at WalMart, we went to only grocery store I had not yet visited in my quest for the perfect thanksgiving turkey. It was Dad’s second time at the store that day, as he had been out early that morning to get milk and butter for breakfast. But finally, after 5 stores over 7 days, I found exactly the turkey I was looking for, and it was on sale! With just the four of us, a large turkey is too much. The guidelines are 1 - 1 ½ pounds of bone-in turkey per person, and ½ - ¾ pounds of boneless turkey per person. Max that’s 6 pounds for 4 people. Have you ever searched for a 6-pound turkey? They do not exist! Even the bone-in breasts I could find were pushing 8 pounds. I did not want a surplus of turkey to have for leftovers for weeks or months! Last year, when there was only 3 of us for the holiday meal, we found a small boneless breast roast with skin and dark meat. All the best parts of the turkey, without being too much. I knew they were still being produced, because I had checked both Butterball and Honeysuckle White’s websites to be sure I could find what was I looking for. Finally! At the 5th grocery store I went to, I was successful. Armed with such success, we headed home where I was lazy for the rest of the day, working a little on my dearest’s Christmas stocking and watching up some of the tv we had recorded. It was my brother’s day to do dinner, and he was planning a version of Cincinnati spaghetti, so I had very little to do in that regard. After dinner, I put away clothes, gave the cat her fluids and called it a day.
Monday, November 22
Work day #1 for the 3-day work week. As I am wrapping things up, it’s a swing between flat-out busy and struggles to find something to do at the office, and this Monday was no different. My boss had been out of town at a convention, so I had some things to get submitted for reimbursement, but other than that it was a lot of hurry-up and wait, interspersed with training my replacement. After work, I was home for some tv, dinner, which was forgettable, and a bit more work on the stocking before giving the cat her fluids and taking a bath.
Tuesday, November 23
Work day #2 began, as all my work days do at 6:00 a.m. when the alarm breaks the sleepy silence and I find the cat to give her her morning pills. After completing morning ablutions, it was a quick chat with my dearest and then off to work, where I served as fill-in secretary because my work co-conspirator was out that day. Would have been an easy-peasy day, but for the late afternoon search for a file, and the subsequent fight with a desk. No matter how hard you try, or how much of a fight you put up, you can never win a battle with a desk, particularly when they employ sneaky corner jump attacks. Two bruises and a developing knot later, I cried “Uncle” and headed home for the day. Home brought another forgettable dinner – which is not to say it was not good, jut that I do not remember what it was. Odd for me, as I usually pay such close attention to meal components. Tuesday is a good tv night – the programmers are against us and have put nearly everything we watch on Tuesday nights. And it was all new episodes. As usual, we started with NCIS and then paused the next show to give the cat her fluids, have showers and complete housework, before picking back up NCIS: Los Angeles. After watching that through, we started the recording Chopped over and finished that out before bed.
Wednesday, November 24
Work day #3 of the 3-day work week began quietly enough. It was spent mostly training my replacement on the spreadsheets and charts I have for keeping track of all kinds of things around the office. The office closed at 3:00 p.m. and I was happy to get out of the madness that much sooner. The downtown area is always busier than normal around holidays. My dad was not so lucky and we had to wait until he got home after 6:00 p.m. to go to dinner – though we were only going out for Taco Bell, but in the interim, I worked a bit more on my dearest’s Christmas stocking. We were home for 7:00 p.m. and left Dad to watch his Wednesday night shows and we relaxed upstairs, giving the cat her fluids and watching some recorded tv there, including the finale of Top Chef Just Desserts.
Thursday, November 25
in detail here
Friday, November 26
None of us are crazy enough to brave Black Friday, and it was a cold, rainy, grey drippy day anyway, so it was just a lazy day at home. Tv on the couch, leftover Thanksgiving dinner to nibble on and have again for dinner and work on the Christmas stocking. We had a few errands to run on Saturday, so we prepared for those, but it was really just a lazy day.
On the whole, it was rather easy week. Not the best week to pick for this task, but, not an outrageously unrepresentative sample either.
This was probably not one of the better weeks to do this experiment. Being a holiday week, it was all over unusual. And moreover, it was a 4-day weekend holiday week. But here goes:
Saturday, November 20
We had a whole bunch of errands and we wanted to see RED with my Dad. So we planned our errands around the movie time, and a meal at a favorite local restaurant that features braised veal on Saturday. The day began later than I prefer to get my errands done, but the movie was for 4:20 and we didn’t want to go and come and go and come. So about 2:00 we headed out to the first stop – Lowe’s for some boxes and packing supplies, as well as light bulbs as we had burned out the last 200 Watt bulb for the living room lamp. After Lowe’s it was time for dinner, and we had books and intended to take our time. My Dad had the Saturday veal special, while my brother had a Philly cheesesteak panini and my mother and I split the special autumn menu pork chop feature. I added a side of mashed sweet potatoes to the dirty rice. After main courses, we all split an order of the autumn special feature cupcake trio. I had half a carrot cake cupcake, my mother had half a red velvet cupcake, and my father had half a dark chocolate fudge cupcake. My brother had half of all three varieties. After dinner we still had some time to kill before our movies – mom, dad and I saw RED, while my brother saw the new Harry Potter movie, so we sat in the cool shade and read our books. Before entering the theater, we stopped for snacks where I had a blue raspberry Icee and split a small bag of popcorn (no butter) with Mom and Dad. They shared a Mr. Pibb to wash down the popcorn. After the movie was over – our movies ended within 20 minutes of each other, we headed to the next stop on our list, Target, where they were having a sale on laundry detergent and a couple of other things we needed. Then we hit Walgreen’s drugstore where heat wraps were on sale. After that it was home for the evening. We got home just in time to give the cat her daily dose of fluids and to veg out with some tv.
Sunday, November 21
This was to be my day to stay at home, only we had a few leftover errands from the day before. Mom and my brother had weather-induced headaches, so Dad and I went grocery shopping. We needed a few things from the grocery, including a turkey for Thanksgiving and some stain remover sticks for the laundry. First stop was WalMart where I checked first for the turkey I wanted, and being unsuccessful, ran to pick up the stain remover sticks, which I can only find at WalMart. A very nice lady, seeing as I had only the 3 stain sticks, allowed me to check-out before her. I hope she got a nice reward sometime for that act of kindness. Having struck out at WalMart, we went to only grocery store I had not yet visited in my quest for the perfect thanksgiving turkey. It was Dad’s second time at the store that day, as he had been out early that morning to get milk and butter for breakfast. But finally, after 5 stores over 7 days, I found exactly the turkey I was looking for, and it was on sale! With just the four of us, a large turkey is too much. The guidelines are 1 - 1 ½ pounds of bone-in turkey per person, and ½ - ¾ pounds of boneless turkey per person. Max that’s 6 pounds for 4 people. Have you ever searched for a 6-pound turkey? They do not exist! Even the bone-in breasts I could find were pushing 8 pounds. I did not want a surplus of turkey to have for leftovers for weeks or months! Last year, when there was only 3 of us for the holiday meal, we found a small boneless breast roast with skin and dark meat. All the best parts of the turkey, without being too much. I knew they were still being produced, because I had checked both Butterball and Honeysuckle White’s websites to be sure I could find what was I looking for. Finally! At the 5th grocery store I went to, I was successful. Armed with such success, we headed home where I was lazy for the rest of the day, working a little on my dearest’s Christmas stocking and watching up some of the tv we had recorded. It was my brother’s day to do dinner, and he was planning a version of Cincinnati spaghetti, so I had very little to do in that regard. After dinner, I put away clothes, gave the cat her fluids and called it a day.
Monday, November 22
Work day #1 for the 3-day work week. As I am wrapping things up, it’s a swing between flat-out busy and struggles to find something to do at the office, and this Monday was no different. My boss had been out of town at a convention, so I had some things to get submitted for reimbursement, but other than that it was a lot of hurry-up and wait, interspersed with training my replacement. After work, I was home for some tv, dinner, which was forgettable, and a bit more work on the stocking before giving the cat her fluids and taking a bath.
Tuesday, November 23
Work day #2 began, as all my work days do at 6:00 a.m. when the alarm breaks the sleepy silence and I find the cat to give her her morning pills. After completing morning ablutions, it was a quick chat with my dearest and then off to work, where I served as fill-in secretary because my work co-conspirator was out that day. Would have been an easy-peasy day, but for the late afternoon search for a file, and the subsequent fight with a desk. No matter how hard you try, or how much of a fight you put up, you can never win a battle with a desk, particularly when they employ sneaky corner jump attacks. Two bruises and a developing knot later, I cried “Uncle” and headed home for the day. Home brought another forgettable dinner – which is not to say it was not good, jut that I do not remember what it was. Odd for me, as I usually pay such close attention to meal components. Tuesday is a good tv night – the programmers are against us and have put nearly everything we watch on Tuesday nights. And it was all new episodes. As usual, we started with NCIS and then paused the next show to give the cat her fluids, have showers and complete housework, before picking back up NCIS: Los Angeles. After watching that through, we started the recording Chopped over and finished that out before bed.
Wednesday, November 24
Work day #3 of the 3-day work week began quietly enough. It was spent mostly training my replacement on the spreadsheets and charts I have for keeping track of all kinds of things around the office. The office closed at 3:00 p.m. and I was happy to get out of the madness that much sooner. The downtown area is always busier than normal around holidays. My dad was not so lucky and we had to wait until he got home after 6:00 p.m. to go to dinner – though we were only going out for Taco Bell, but in the interim, I worked a bit more on my dearest’s Christmas stocking. We were home for 7:00 p.m. and left Dad to watch his Wednesday night shows and we relaxed upstairs, giving the cat her fluids and watching some recorded tv there, including the finale of Top Chef Just Desserts.
Thursday, November 25
in detail here
Friday, November 26
None of us are crazy enough to brave Black Friday, and it was a cold, rainy, grey drippy day anyway, so it was just a lazy day at home. Tv on the couch, leftover Thanksgiving dinner to nibble on and have again for dinner and work on the Christmas stocking. We had a few errands to run on Saturday, so we prepared for those, but it was really just a lazy day.
On the whole, it was rather easy week. Not the best week to pick for this task, but, not an outrageously unrepresentative sample either.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Days Off and On
day 25 - your day (in detail)
Today was Thanksgiving, which meant I did not have to go to the office, but it did not mean I did not have to work.
The day began when I stirred about 1:00 a.m., finding a love note from my dearest. After replying and drifting back to sleep, I woke again about 5:35 a.m., checked the time, and after turning on my fan to circulate air in the still, stuffy room, I fell back to sleep for about an hour.
I woke for good at 6:35 and after handling some personal needs, picked up my cat to give her her pills. After that task was completed, I got back in bed, to spend the waning hours of my dearest's Thursday with him. I fell back to sleep with him and then watched an episode of Covert Affairs I had recorded. Having spent a lazy morning with some eye candy and a reasonably well done show, I got up to make an apple pie.
That took about an hour, when I came to wake my housemates for breakfast -- almond croissants I had gotten yesterday. About an hour after that, we settled down for some post-prandial relaxing and some tv. I watched a couple of episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (more eye candy!) and The People's Court. Soon after getting comfortable, my mother noted that the cat was conspicuous by her absence and the whole house spent 40 minutes searching for her. We finally found her on a windowsill, napping in the sun. After calming down from the panic, we settled down for some more tv and watched another episode of The People's Court, before heading to the kitchen to get dinner started.
We had made cornbread last night, but we needed to prepare the dressing, as well as the sweet potatoes, mushrooms, and turkey for the meal. Popping everything in the oven left me enough time to work on my dearest's Christmas stocking and then to finish dinner and enjoy it.
After doing my part to clean up after dinner, I listened as my mother answered Thanksgiving greetings calls. We watched some more tv and then indulged in a generous slice of my apple pie, followed by some more work on my dearest's Christmas stocking and giving my cat her daily dose of fluids.
Work done for the day, we relaxed with some more tv -- we have over 40 hours of recorded stuff to watch up -- and a text volley with my dearest on the couch.
Then it was up to my room for bedtime after finishing this post.
It's not 10:18 and my day is done only one thing is missing to make it a perfect holiday....
Today was Thanksgiving, which meant I did not have to go to the office, but it did not mean I did not have to work.
The day began when I stirred about 1:00 a.m., finding a love note from my dearest. After replying and drifting back to sleep, I woke again about 5:35 a.m., checked the time, and after turning on my fan to circulate air in the still, stuffy room, I fell back to sleep for about an hour.
I woke for good at 6:35 and after handling some personal needs, picked up my cat to give her her pills. After that task was completed, I got back in bed, to spend the waning hours of my dearest's Thursday with him. I fell back to sleep with him and then watched an episode of Covert Affairs I had recorded. Having spent a lazy morning with some eye candy and a reasonably well done show, I got up to make an apple pie.
That took about an hour, when I came to wake my housemates for breakfast -- almond croissants I had gotten yesterday. About an hour after that, we settled down for some post-prandial relaxing and some tv. I watched a couple of episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation (more eye candy!) and The People's Court. Soon after getting comfortable, my mother noted that the cat was conspicuous by her absence and the whole house spent 40 minutes searching for her. We finally found her on a windowsill, napping in the sun. After calming down from the panic, we settled down for some more tv and watched another episode of The People's Court, before heading to the kitchen to get dinner started.
We had made cornbread last night, but we needed to prepare the dressing, as well as the sweet potatoes, mushrooms, and turkey for the meal. Popping everything in the oven left me enough time to work on my dearest's Christmas stocking and then to finish dinner and enjoy it.
After doing my part to clean up after dinner, I listened as my mother answered Thanksgiving greetings calls. We watched some more tv and then indulged in a generous slice of my apple pie, followed by some more work on my dearest's Christmas stocking and giving my cat her daily dose of fluids.
Work done for the day, we relaxed with some more tv -- we have over 40 hours of recorded stuff to watch up -- and a text volley with my dearest on the couch.
Then it was up to my room for bedtime after finishing this post.
It's not 10:18 and my day is done only one thing is missing to make it a perfect holiday....
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Suburban Normal
day 24 - where I live
I live in two time zones. I never look at my watch without thinking not only the time where I am, but the time where my dearest is. If I buzz him now, will I wake him up? I'm having dinner, is it lunchtime yet for him, can we share the meal? Do I have to stay up until midnight to see him after work? Can we share an episode of Numb3rs at a reasonable hour or do I have to wake up at like 4? How late will he be staying up to see me off to work in the morning?
It's very interesting existing in two time zones. We are 17 hours apart. It makes for all kinds of difficulties in seeing each other live. One of us is always ending our day as the other is beginning; one is always waking as the other is struggling to stay awake. It makes being together, online or on the phone difficult. We seem to always have stolen moments carved out of our days.
In a book I have, Normal is Just a Setting on the Dryer, a piece of advice is offered: Decide where you want to live and move there; everything else will follow.
I have decided where I want to live. I want to live in the same time zone as my husband. And we will be moving there together soon.
I live in two time zones. I never look at my watch without thinking not only the time where I am, but the time where my dearest is. If I buzz him now, will I wake him up? I'm having dinner, is it lunchtime yet for him, can we share the meal? Do I have to stay up until midnight to see him after work? Can we share an episode of Numb3rs at a reasonable hour or do I have to wake up at like 4? How late will he be staying up to see me off to work in the morning?
It's very interesting existing in two time zones. We are 17 hours apart. It makes for all kinds of difficulties in seeing each other live. One of us is always ending our day as the other is beginning; one is always waking as the other is struggling to stay awake. It makes being together, online or on the phone difficult. We seem to always have stolen moments carved out of our days.
In a book I have, Normal is Just a Setting on the Dryer, a piece of advice is offered: Decide where you want to live and move there; everything else will follow.
I have decided where I want to live. I want to live in the same time zone as my husband. And we will be moving there together soon.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Musketeers in Arms
day 23 - a YouTube video
When I was coming back from my trip to San Francisco, I posted a link to the Sons of Maxwell song United Breaks Guitars. I posted it because I had been on a (non-United) flight with 12 carry-on guitars, which I felt at the time (and still do, sorry dearest) was a bit excessive.
But the truth was, having been a United passenger, the song hit a nerve with me. My own experience with United had nothing to do with guitars or baggage handling; it was over missed connections and the conspicuously absent customer service trying to reschedule flight leaving Los Angeles the day before the Michael Jackson memorial service. United was, as in Mr. Carroll's case, less than helpful, and I eventually ended up forfeiting the last leg of my flight from Melbourne to New Orleans in favor of a Southwest flight.
But even so, I found the saga of Mr. Carroll's discussions with the airline interesting to watch. I have issues with people posting copyrighted material without the express permission of the copyright holder -- it seems a bit like stealing or theft to me -- and as such I like to support the artist, even if it is in a the form of free YouTube videos. Every hit counts, I suppose, and my hits might as well be at the artist's own YouTube channel, right?
So, the United Breaks Guitars saga:
Song 1
Song 2
Song 3
Post-Script: Actually on the delayed flight, when I was collecting my luggage to clear US customs, I did notice that there were two broken guitar cases. Apparently United really does break guitars.
When I was coming back from my trip to San Francisco, I posted a link to the Sons of Maxwell song United Breaks Guitars. I posted it because I had been on a (non-United) flight with 12 carry-on guitars, which I felt at the time (and still do, sorry dearest) was a bit excessive.
But the truth was, having been a United passenger, the song hit a nerve with me. My own experience with United had nothing to do with guitars or baggage handling; it was over missed connections and the conspicuously absent customer service trying to reschedule flight leaving Los Angeles the day before the Michael Jackson memorial service. United was, as in Mr. Carroll's case, less than helpful, and I eventually ended up forfeiting the last leg of my flight from Melbourne to New Orleans in favor of a Southwest flight.
But even so, I found the saga of Mr. Carroll's discussions with the airline interesting to watch. I have issues with people posting copyrighted material without the express permission of the copyright holder -- it seems a bit like stealing or theft to me -- and as such I like to support the artist, even if it is in a the form of free YouTube videos. Every hit counts, I suppose, and my hits might as well be at the artist's own YouTube channel, right?
So, the United Breaks Guitars saga:
Song 1
Song 2
Song 3
Post-Script: Actually on the delayed flight, when I was collecting my luggage to clear US customs, I did notice that there were two broken guitar cases. Apparently United really does break guitars.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Comic Irony
day 22 - a website
I do so dislike these vague subjects. What am I supposed to do with them? Where am I to go with my thoughts? I never know if I am doing it right.
Today's topic is a website. Well, if you are reading this, you have come here through one website or another, which led you here at one time. So there you are, a website. But somehow I think that is not exactly where this should go -- and I can go round and round in circles on that train of thought.
So let's see if we can figure out where I should go with this ... I think it's a website I visit often, maybe not daily, but often enough.
I am comics reader. I never seem to get the paper to read them in the mornings with coffee (the fact that I do not drink coffee in the mornings, or at all, is immaterial to this discussion), but I do check out my favorites online daily. As much as I love the feel and smell of the crinkly, inky newsprint in my hands, I find I enjoy the comics better online. And online I can read comics that are not printed in my local paper. Comics like 9 Chickweed Lane, or this one, which I found when I followed a link in an article on the death of newspaper comics. (Yes, I do see the irony there.)
It's not always funny, but then neither is Funky Winkerbean or For Better or For Worse. But it's still worth a few seconds of my day. Maybe you'll find it's worth a few seconds of your day as well.
I do so dislike these vague subjects. What am I supposed to do with them? Where am I to go with my thoughts? I never know if I am doing it right.
Today's topic is a website. Well, if you are reading this, you have come here through one website or another, which led you here at one time. So there you are, a website. But somehow I think that is not exactly where this should go -- and I can go round and round in circles on that train of thought.
So let's see if we can figure out where I should go with this ... I think it's a website I visit often, maybe not daily, but often enough.
I am comics reader. I never seem to get the paper to read them in the mornings with coffee (the fact that I do not drink coffee in the mornings, or at all, is immaterial to this discussion), but I do check out my favorites online daily. As much as I love the feel and smell of the crinkly, inky newsprint in my hands, I find I enjoy the comics better online. And online I can read comics that are not printed in my local paper. Comics like 9 Chickweed Lane, or this one, which I found when I followed a link in an article on the death of newspaper comics. (Yes, I do see the irony there.)
It's not always funny, but then neither is Funky Winkerbean or For Better or For Worse. But it's still worth a few seconds of my day. Maybe you'll find it's worth a few seconds of your day as well.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
All the Comforts At Home
day 21 - a recipe
I love to cook, though nothing is really gourmet or anything I'd serve to fancy company, and usually stiff you can't restaurants. I cook mainly comfort foods, a collection of recipes handed down from my mother and grandmother and favorite recipes from cookbooks. I can plan a nutritionally balanced, completely home cooked meal, and I enjoy making magic in the kitchen. But sometimes, I am feeling silly and in the mood for something I can only find in my kitchen at home: oatmeal caramel topping.
And so, here is my recipe for oatmeal caramel topping:
I love to cook, though nothing is really gourmet or anything I'd serve to fancy company, and usually stiff you can't restaurants. I cook mainly comfort foods, a collection of recipes handed down from my mother and grandmother and favorite recipes from cookbooks. I can plan a nutritionally balanced, completely home cooked meal, and I enjoy making magic in the kitchen. But sometimes, I am feeling silly and in the mood for something I can only find in my kitchen at home: oatmeal caramel topping.
And so, here is my recipe for oatmeal caramel topping:
2 Tablespoon Butter or Margarine (sticks, not buttery spread)
2 Tablespoons Brown Sugar
1/4 Cup Quick Cooking Rolled Oats
In small skillet, melt butter, add the brown sugar, cooking over medium heat until thick and syrupy. Add the oats, stirring and toasting until well coated. Serve immediately over ice cream, or allow to cool slightly and serve alone. Makes 2 (or more) servings.Most often I serve it over ice cream, but other times I just want the crunchy sweet goodness alone. It makes more than will serve one person, but I cannot make a decent syrup in my skillet with only enough butter and brown sugar for one person. Definitely a yummy treat for cool nights with romantic comedy chick flicks.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Making Spare Time Sparkle
day 20 - a hobby of yours
In my spare time, when I am not chatting with my husband, I can often be found reading. If not reading, I am usually watching tv, sometimes I am cooking, others writing, though lately I have been doing some embroidery work, making felt Christmas stockings for my husband and in-laws.
I am working on my husband's stocking first, and it is not complete, but I am proud of how it looks so far:
In my spare time, when I am not chatting with my husband, I can often be found reading. If not reading, I am usually watching tv, sometimes I am cooking, others writing, though lately I have been doing some embroidery work, making felt Christmas stockings for my husband and in-laws.
I am working on my husband's stocking first, and it is not complete, but I am proud of how it looks so far:
Hiding in the Shadows
day 19 - a talent of yours
I am not sure about this one. I am not really sure I am talented at anything, well, nothing worthwhile anyway. If I sing, it's off-key and out-of-tune. I often joke with friends and family that the "Make a Joyful Noise" quote from the Bible does not come with a condition of "only if you can sing well."
Similarly, though I can play both the French Horn and Trumpet reasonably well, it has been years since I have picked up either instrument. Additionally, I cannot keep time for crap, so while I am able to play the instruments, I am hardly concert performance ready.
I watched my great-aunt knit and crochet growing up, but I never learned how. While I can sew, I am better with kits with instructions, and am rather lost at counted cross-stitch or other non-printed embroidery projects.
I can cook, but I am hardly world-class. I can turn out a well-planned, nutritionally balanced meal, but I am never going to win any Master Chef prizes.
If pressed, I would say my talent is packing things, making the best possible use of the available space, fitting things in all the nooks and crannies and filling things up effectively. But that's not really a marketable talent worthy of proclaiming from the rooftops.
I enjoy writing, and I think I do it fairly well, but there again, it's not something I think I do well enough to put out into the world.
Maybe it's not that I'm not talented, maybe it's just that I am shy and private...
I am not sure about this one. I am not really sure I am talented at anything, well, nothing worthwhile anyway. If I sing, it's off-key and out-of-tune. I often joke with friends and family that the "Make a Joyful Noise" quote from the Bible does not come with a condition of "only if you can sing well."
Similarly, though I can play both the French Horn and Trumpet reasonably well, it has been years since I have picked up either instrument. Additionally, I cannot keep time for crap, so while I am able to play the instruments, I am hardly concert performance ready.
I watched my great-aunt knit and crochet growing up, but I never learned how. While I can sew, I am better with kits with instructions, and am rather lost at counted cross-stitch or other non-printed embroidery projects.
I can cook, but I am hardly world-class. I can turn out a well-planned, nutritionally balanced meal, but I am never going to win any Master Chef prizes.
If pressed, I would say my talent is packing things, making the best possible use of the available space, fitting things in all the nooks and crannies and filling things up effectively. But that's not really a marketable talent worthy of proclaiming from the rooftops.
I enjoy writing, and I think I do it fairly well, but there again, it's not something I think I do well enough to put out into the world.
Maybe it's not that I'm not talented, maybe it's just that I am shy and private...
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tying Myself up in Knots
Day 18 – my wedding/future wedding/past wedding
Facts:
I offer no apology for my decision to have two weddings, and yes, I am calling them both weddings. According to the dictionary, the word wedding is a variant of the word wed which means to "get married" or to "join or combine in marriage." Both celebrations will be doing just that.
My husband and I have our reasons for having two weddings. We feel justified in them, and none of our friends or family have said one negative word about our decision. I do not have to justify myself, my husband, or our decisions or actions to the leading wedding planning website. And I do not intend to.
Yes, I am having two weddings. I will marry my husband twice, in two legally binding wedding ceremonies. And if I could figure out how to do it, I would marry him four or five times.
Facts:
- I am in the process of planning my wedding.
- I have already had a wedding.
I offer no apology for my decision to have two weddings, and yes, I am calling them both weddings. According to the dictionary, the word wedding is a variant of the word wed which means to "get married" or to "join or combine in marriage." Both celebrations will be doing just that.
My husband and I have our reasons for having two weddings. We feel justified in them, and none of our friends or family have said one negative word about our decision. I do not have to justify myself, my husband, or our decisions or actions to the leading wedding planning website. And I do not intend to.
Yes, I am having two weddings. I will marry my husband twice, in two legally binding wedding ceremonies. And if I could figure out how to do it, I would marry him four or five times.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Art of Easters Past
day 17 - an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc.)
I do not remember when, I know it was before my 10th birthday, but at some point I fell in love with Russian Imperialism, and specifically the reign of Tsar Nicholas II. Everything about it fascinates me – from the truth that he was a reluctant second son who was grossly unprepared to rule, to the influences of others on his policies, his son and heir’s battles with hemophilia, to the grandeur of the Royal Court, WWI, the Revolution, his death, the mystery of Anastasia – everything is a source of wonder and amazement. I have spoken before about my life-dream of being in St. Petersburg, in the royal palaces, and on the Jordan Staircase. It seems only fitting that the piece of art I discuss today should come from the period that fascinates me.
I have hanging on my bedroom wall a poster-print of a picture of the 1893 Caucasus Imperial Easter Egg, created by the House of Peter Carl Fabergé for Tsar Alexander III to present to his wife, Tsarina Maria Feodorovna. The Egg is a part of the Matilda Geddings Grey Foundation Collection of Fabergé works, and was, until Hurricane Katrina, on long-term loan to the New Orleans Museum of Art. I would go at least once a year and spend as long as my companions would allow me in the Fabergé room, in awe at the usable objects of beauty on display. The Collection consisted of 4 Eggs, including the (disputed) original egg, the Imperial Basket of Lillies of Valley, many smaller flower sculptures, and several day-to-day items used by the Russian Royal Family. It was a treasure trove of history coming to life for me. The small, dark-paneled room, with dim lighting held treasures untold – from simple things like a cigarette case or bell push, to the grand and exquisite almost mythical Easter Eggs. The 1893 Caucasus Egg was always my favorite, displayed in a freestanding case, with the 4 doors open to reveal the painted miniatures beneath, the glistening red enamel catching and reflecting the light in ever changing patterns. I could have spent many more hours of my life gazing dreamily at the Egg.
After one of my first visits, I stopped in the Museum gift shop and bought a poster-print of the Egg. I kept the poster very nice on the way home, and then carefully stashed it behind a large piece of solid furniture to keep it as flat as possible, intending one day to hang it in my room. The Easter Bunny stepped in and had the poster-print framed for me for Easter the year I was 10. The print, framed in a simple gold frame almost exactly the color of the Egg’s custom-made display stand, has hung over my bed since then.
It may not be what most people think of when they hear the word art, but it is my art – my little piece of Russian Imperialism, my small token of the grandeur that was the Romanov Court. Art should move you, and this piece, even as a framed poster-print does just that.
I do not remember when, I know it was before my 10th birthday, but at some point I fell in love with Russian Imperialism, and specifically the reign of Tsar Nicholas II. Everything about it fascinates me – from the truth that he was a reluctant second son who was grossly unprepared to rule, to the influences of others on his policies, his son and heir’s battles with hemophilia, to the grandeur of the Royal Court, WWI, the Revolution, his death, the mystery of Anastasia – everything is a source of wonder and amazement. I have spoken before about my life-dream of being in St. Petersburg, in the royal palaces, and on the Jordan Staircase. It seems only fitting that the piece of art I discuss today should come from the period that fascinates me.
I have hanging on my bedroom wall a poster-print of a picture of the 1893 Caucasus Imperial Easter Egg, created by the House of Peter Carl Fabergé for Tsar Alexander III to present to his wife, Tsarina Maria Feodorovna. The Egg is a part of the Matilda Geddings Grey Foundation Collection of Fabergé works, and was, until Hurricane Katrina, on long-term loan to the New Orleans Museum of Art. I would go at least once a year and spend as long as my companions would allow me in the Fabergé room, in awe at the usable objects of beauty on display. The Collection consisted of 4 Eggs, including the (disputed) original egg, the Imperial Basket of Lillies of Valley, many smaller flower sculptures, and several day-to-day items used by the Russian Royal Family. It was a treasure trove of history coming to life for me. The small, dark-paneled room, with dim lighting held treasures untold – from simple things like a cigarette case or bell push, to the grand and exquisite almost mythical Easter Eggs. The 1893 Caucasus Egg was always my favorite, displayed in a freestanding case, with the 4 doors open to reveal the painted miniatures beneath, the glistening red enamel catching and reflecting the light in ever changing patterns. I could have spent many more hours of my life gazing dreamily at the Egg.
After one of my first visits, I stopped in the Museum gift shop and bought a poster-print of the Egg. I kept the poster very nice on the way home, and then carefully stashed it behind a large piece of solid furniture to keep it as flat as possible, intending one day to hang it in my room. The Easter Bunny stepped in and had the poster-print framed for me for Easter the year I was 10. The print, framed in a simple gold frame almost exactly the color of the Egg’s custom-made display stand, has hung over my bed since then.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Crying in the Rain
day 16 - a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
I am not really one to cry much at movies or songs; books now, they can send me over the edge to a weepy mess faster than you can say it, but songs and movies not so much. Perhaps because written words are a medium for my own expression, I feel emotion more when I supply it than when it is forced upon me. Who knows? But that is not to say that certain songs do not send me over the edge to a weepy mess.
My husband recorded a song for me one Valentine's Day, but since that is for Lynn only, we will hardly count that one as one that creates an emotional storm in me.
As far as mainstream songs, most recently, Kathy's Song by Simon & Garfunkel does it for me. I can just get through the song without falling to pieces. I do not remember hearing the song before I heard Garfunkel performing it in concert when I saw them live. That does not mean that I had never heard it before, just that I have no conscious memory of it before that moment sitting in the Rod Laver Arena. As I said, I heard Garfunkel singing it live at the Old Friends Australian/Pacific concert tour and a version sung by Garfunkel is on the Old Friends Live on Stage album. And it is this version that makes me cry. I am not sure if it is Garfunkel's voice, or the powerful emotion conveyed by Simon's simple-sounding lyrics. I am not as fond of the versions where Simon sings, so it must be the combination of Simon's lyrics and music and Garfunkel's voice that does it. But the song hits home for me, having been separated from my love for the better part of our relationship. I can feel the longing in the song and the unique sadness of being separated by an ocean or more. Being apart from the one you love is never easy. The song puts into words the desperate loneliness that comes creeping in as night falls.
The song hits home in a big way for me, and even sitting here telling you about it brings feelings of emptiness and longing for my dearest. It's an emotional roller coaster of a ride for me.
I read one of those awful lists, you know the kind, the ones that serve only to generate controversy - greatest songwriters of all time or some such, and Paul Simon was on it. At the time, I did not know of Kathy's Song, and while I did not question his inclusion on that list, I now know that his ranking on that list is right. Anyone who can stir as much emotion in stony-faced me with simple words deserves whatever accolades he has received for it. He is a true craftsman and artist.
I am not really one to cry much at movies or songs; books now, they can send me over the edge to a weepy mess faster than you can say it, but songs and movies not so much. Perhaps because written words are a medium for my own expression, I feel emotion more when I supply it than when it is forced upon me. Who knows? But that is not to say that certain songs do not send me over the edge to a weepy mess.
My husband recorded a song for me one Valentine's Day, but since that is for Lynn only, we will hardly count that one as one that creates an emotional storm in me.
As far as mainstream songs, most recently, Kathy's Song by Simon & Garfunkel does it for me. I can just get through the song without falling to pieces. I do not remember hearing the song before I heard Garfunkel performing it in concert when I saw them live. That does not mean that I had never heard it before, just that I have no conscious memory of it before that moment sitting in the Rod Laver Arena. As I said, I heard Garfunkel singing it live at the Old Friends Australian/Pacific concert tour and a version sung by Garfunkel is on the Old Friends Live on Stage album. And it is this version that makes me cry. I am not sure if it is Garfunkel's voice, or the powerful emotion conveyed by Simon's simple-sounding lyrics. I am not as fond of the versions where Simon sings, so it must be the combination of Simon's lyrics and music and Garfunkel's voice that does it. But the song hits home for me, having been separated from my love for the better part of our relationship. I can feel the longing in the song and the unique sadness of being separated by an ocean or more. Being apart from the one you love is never easy. The song puts into words the desperate loneliness that comes creeping in as night falls.
I hear the drizzle of the rainIt is even more poignant for me, as both my husband and I love great, grey, drippy days.
Like a memory it falls
My thoughts are many miles awayThe distance and time between us, means that these lyrics are too true, as we each begin our days as the other is finishing theirs.
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.
The song hits home in a big way for me, and even sitting here telling you about it brings feelings of emptiness and longing for my dearest. It's an emotional roller coaster of a ride for me.
I read one of those awful lists, you know the kind, the ones that serve only to generate controversy - greatest songwriters of all time or some such, and Paul Simon was on it. At the time, I did not know of Kathy's Song, and while I did not question his inclusion on that list, I now know that his ranking on that list is right. Anyone who can stir as much emotion in stony-faced me with simple words deserves whatever accolades he has received for it. He is a true craftsman and artist.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Floating Castles in the Air
day 15 - your dream house
I have already posted about my dream house -- well, my a realistic dream anyway. So for this entry I will indulge in flights of fancy and discuss a true dream house. Though it's a house as such. It has walls and doors and windows, plumbing and appliances, furniture and art, but still, it's not a house. It's a home.
If money were no object, and the pesky details of day-to-day life handled themselves, I would live here. I think that is a perfect dream, house. I am not one for yard work so I would not miss having a yard. Being outside is a hit or miss prospect for me. But beautiful views and comfortable surroundings I adore. Even my dream pet would be at home here.
This is the option that offers the best of the best for me -- I can travel around the world without ever leaving home! Perfect! I wouldn't necessarily be tired of being always on the go, because I would always be at home. I wouldn't ever miss home, because it would travel with me. It really is my dream home.
I have already posted about my dream house -- well, my a realistic dream anyway. So for this entry I will indulge in flights of fancy and discuss a true dream house. Though it's a house as such. It has walls and doors and windows, plumbing and appliances, furniture and art, but still, it's not a house. It's a home.
If money were no object, and the pesky details of day-to-day life handled themselves, I would live here. I think that is a perfect dream, house. I am not one for yard work so I would not miss having a yard. Being outside is a hit or miss prospect for me. But beautiful views and comfortable surroundings I adore. Even my dream pet would be at home here.
This is the option that offers the best of the best for me -- I can travel around the world without ever leaving home! Perfect! I wouldn't necessarily be tired of being always on the go, because I would always be at home. I wouldn't ever miss home, because it would travel with me. It really is my dream home.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
How DO You Solve a Problem Like Maria?
day 14 - a non-fiction book
Again, I am not exactly sure how to interpret this subject. I am not sure where I am supposed to go with it. And again, I will put my own interpretation on it, and I take it to mean a discussion of a non-fiction book I enjoy.
I have many books on the life and reign of Tsar Nicholas II and I enjoy reading them, exploring the history, especially one that is a collection of letters between Tsar Nicholas and Tsarina Alexandra, detailing their love affair in their own words. For theirs was a true-love match, and that always seems rare in royal marriages. And while I enjoy the books, and enjoy discussing the subjects, it is a rather esoteric topic and not one easily discussed with most people. So I will save my discussions of Imperial Russia for a more appropriate audience and will instead talk about a more approachable book.
And given the recent 45th Anniversary of The Sound of Music, why not discuss one of my favorite autobiographies --The Story of the Trapp Family Singers? The movie is big and sweeping, with great singable songs, and a love affair between Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, evil villains in the form of the Nazis and unlikely heroes in the nuns. The movie is great. The book is better.
It's a memoir told by Maria Augusta Trapp. It goes into more detail than the movie and in the end is a better love story than the movie. The book begins with Maria's time in the convent and ends when the family has immigrated to Vermont. It's not a current bestseller, and I doubt it would be, even with the movie connection, but that does not mean it is not worth reading, and it does have a place of honor in my library. This is one of the lovely situations where it is not an either/or regarding the book and the movie. The movie works as a companion to the book, while the book is more in-depth than the movie. Parts are the same and parts are different. Both are enjoyable. It is one of my favorite biographies and I will read it again and again and again, the same way I see the movie over and over and over.
The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, Maria Augusta Trapp -- curl up with a classic.
Again, I am not exactly sure how to interpret this subject. I am not sure where I am supposed to go with it. And again, I will put my own interpretation on it, and I take it to mean a discussion of a non-fiction book I enjoy.
I have many books on the life and reign of Tsar Nicholas II and I enjoy reading them, exploring the history, especially one that is a collection of letters between Tsar Nicholas and Tsarina Alexandra, detailing their love affair in their own words. For theirs was a true-love match, and that always seems rare in royal marriages. And while I enjoy the books, and enjoy discussing the subjects, it is a rather esoteric topic and not one easily discussed with most people. So I will save my discussions of Imperial Russia for a more appropriate audience and will instead talk about a more approachable book.
And given the recent 45th Anniversary of The Sound of Music, why not discuss one of my favorite autobiographies --The Story of the Trapp Family Singers? The movie is big and sweeping, with great singable songs, and a love affair between Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer, evil villains in the form of the Nazis and unlikely heroes in the nuns. The movie is great. The book is better.
It's a memoir told by Maria Augusta Trapp. It goes into more detail than the movie and in the end is a better love story than the movie. The book begins with Maria's time in the convent and ends when the family has immigrated to Vermont. It's not a current bestseller, and I doubt it would be, even with the movie connection, but that does not mean it is not worth reading, and it does have a place of honor in my library. This is one of the lovely situations where it is not an either/or regarding the book and the movie. The movie works as a companion to the book, while the book is more in-depth than the movie. Parts are the same and parts are different. Both are enjoyable. It is one of my favorite biographies and I will read it again and again and again, the same way I see the movie over and over and over.
The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, Maria Augusta Trapp -- curl up with a classic.
Forgetting to Remember
I will admit, I have not been drawn into the Harry Potter craze. So when November 11th came around, I was blissfully unaware that it was Harry Potter Premiere Day. It was Remembrance Day, Armistice Day, or Veterans' Day to me. I know the significance of the "11th hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month" and the meaning of the sombre day.
Then I saw a link to this story on Yahoo.
The beaver may remember, but the world has apparently forgotten.
Then I saw a link to this story on Yahoo.
Have we failed in history education so much that we have to explain the seemingly universal symbol of red poppies? I know I have not seen them for sale on Veterans' Day for years, but just because they are not for sale does not mean I have forgotten what they mean.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
The Words of a Beautiful Song
Day 13 - a fiction book
I am not sure is this means one I like, one I do not like, one that moved me, one that disturbed me, on that angered me or what. It is not very specific, so I am not really sure where to go with this. That being said, we shall take it to mean a fictional book I have read recently.
While on my most recent cruise, I was in the middle of the Spring Book Challenge, trying to get somewhere near finishing. I was unsuccessful, but that does not mean that I did not try. One of the books I read for the challenge was Bel Canto. It was my choice for this task: Read a book that you have heard a lot about, but have been hesitant to read. Then post a review of the book, why you hadn't read it, and your thoughts on the book.
I had first heard of the book when a regular customer gave a copy to my brother. It was at the time on the bestseller list. I have always eschewed best-sellers. I dislike the follow-the-leader, let-someone-else-form-your-opinions-for-you aspect of reading popular bestsellers. I am a true system bucker, and in me that presents itself mainly in the form of ignoring fads and popular things. My reading material is no different. The book-snob in me panics at the thought of people seeing me reading current bestsellers. Especially the wildly popular, everyone is reading them books.
Bel Canto was that kind of book at the time. Even though my brother read it, and told me I would enjoy it, I could not read the book. Not then. Enough time has passed and, I saw it on a buy 2 get 1 free table at Borders. I thought, well, why not? I had picked two others, so I got it for free and if I didn't finish it nothing was really lost but the time I spent starting it.
Ohh how I was wrong! It was a great book. I was amazed at how much I enjoyed it. It took me by complete surprise. It was slow to start and slow to progress, but even then I could not put it down. And by the time the book whooshed to the end, I was so involved in the lives of the characters that I hated to turn to the last page. I hated for it to be over.
That is the mark of a truly good book, to engage the reader so thoroughly that they do not want the story to end. While I would like the book to go on, I am glad there was not an immediate sequel. This book stands on its own. It is a complete story and a world unto itself -- further installments would only cheapen the original. It has been, hands down, the most moving, engaging book I have read so far this year. Definitely the fiction book of the year so far.
Bel Canto, Ann Patchett. Read it. You will not regret it.
I am not sure is this means one I like, one I do not like, one that moved me, one that disturbed me, on that angered me or what. It is not very specific, so I am not really sure where to go with this. That being said, we shall take it to mean a fictional book I have read recently.
While on my most recent cruise, I was in the middle of the Spring Book Challenge, trying to get somewhere near finishing. I was unsuccessful, but that does not mean that I did not try. One of the books I read for the challenge was Bel Canto. It was my choice for this task: Read a book that you have heard a lot about, but have been hesitant to read. Then post a review of the book, why you hadn't read it, and your thoughts on the book.
I had first heard of the book when a regular customer gave a copy to my brother. It was at the time on the bestseller list. I have always eschewed best-sellers. I dislike the follow-the-leader, let-someone-else-form-your-opinions-for-you aspect of reading popular bestsellers. I am a true system bucker, and in me that presents itself mainly in the form of ignoring fads and popular things. My reading material is no different. The book-snob in me panics at the thought of people seeing me reading current bestsellers. Especially the wildly popular, everyone is reading them books.
Bel Canto was that kind of book at the time. Even though my brother read it, and told me I would enjoy it, I could not read the book. Not then. Enough time has passed and, I saw it on a buy 2 get 1 free table at Borders. I thought, well, why not? I had picked two others, so I got it for free and if I didn't finish it nothing was really lost but the time I spent starting it.
Ohh how I was wrong! It was a great book. I was amazed at how much I enjoyed it. It took me by complete surprise. It was slow to start and slow to progress, but even then I could not put it down. And by the time the book whooshed to the end, I was so involved in the lives of the characters that I hated to turn to the last page. I hated for it to be over.
That is the mark of a truly good book, to engage the reader so thoroughly that they do not want the story to end. While I would like the book to go on, I am glad there was not an immediate sequel. This book stands on its own. It is a complete story and a world unto itself -- further installments would only cheapen the original. It has been, hands down, the most moving, engaging book I have read so far this year. Definitely the fiction book of the year so far.
Bel Canto, Ann Patchett. Read it. You will not regret it.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Everything in Its Place
day 12 - something you are OCD about
ignoring the fact that I dislike the term OCD when used to describe anything but an official diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder...
I am very obsessively organized. I cannot stand to misplace things. As a result I am very persnickety about where I put things and how I have things arranged. In one of by books about Tsar Nicholas II, there was an explanation of why he never had a personal secretary: he wanted to know where everything was, so that if he needed to, he could find anything in his office in the dark, and a [personal] secretary would move things, if only inadvertently. I read that and thought, YES! that's me. I hate when people move my things because then I cannot find them. Anyone who knows me, knows that my desk at the office is obsessively organized, and that I know at a glance if someone has touched something, or used one of my pens (and I prefer run-of-the-mill standard blue ballpoint pens).
At home, I am not as organized, though I am still as obsessive about knowing where things are. Nothing makes me madder at myself than not being able to find something. Which is why some things have the strangest permanent locations. I have long held that if you see something or put something in a strange place, leave it there, because you will remember the strange place, but not whatever sensible place you moved it to.
Yes, I am obsessively, if uniquely, organized; I make no apologies and offer no excuses.
ignoring the fact that I dislike the term OCD when used to describe anything but an official diagnosis of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder...
I am very obsessively organized. I cannot stand to misplace things. As a result I am very persnickety about where I put things and how I have things arranged. In one of by books about Tsar Nicholas II, there was an explanation of why he never had a personal secretary: he wanted to know where everything was, so that if he needed to, he could find anything in his office in the dark, and a [personal] secretary would move things, if only inadvertently. I read that and thought, YES! that's me. I hate when people move my things because then I cannot find them. Anyone who knows me, knows that my desk at the office is obsessively organized, and that I know at a glance if someone has touched something, or used one of my pens (and I prefer run-of-the-mill standard blue ballpoint pens).
At home, I am not as organized, though I am still as obsessive about knowing where things are. Nothing makes me madder at myself than not being able to find something. Which is why some things have the strangest permanent locations. I have long held that if you see something or put something in a strange place, leave it there, because you will remember the strange place, but not whatever sensible place you moved it to.
Yes, I am obsessively, if uniquely, organized; I make no apologies and offer no excuses.
Speaking Volumes in the Silence
day 11 - a photo of you recently
This was taken at an interactive art installation as part of The Light in Winter celebration at Melbourne's Federation Square. It was very interesting exhibit. I never quite figured out exactly how it worked -- whether the lights were timed to flash with unheard music, or whether they were on a timer, cycling through a pattern of colors, or whether it had to do with the people walking around them, perhaps even a combination of all of those factors. I didn't know until after the photo was taken that the art was titled "Volume," but looking back, it was a fitting title, even though I could not hear any noise from the art piece itself.
Of the pictures taken of me recently (within the past year or so) this is one of my favorite candid-type shots. I can feel my excitement and the joy leaping out of this photo. And I think, even with the winter jacket and the touristy camera and bag of souvenirs, I look very good. It's a very Lynn photo.
Stating the Obvious
If I can hear your music across a noisy elevator bay, through your earphones, your have the volume up too loud.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Dreams of a Decade
Day 10 - a photo taken over 10 years ago
The problem with this is that I have no photos taken over 10 years ago scanned, I do not have a scanner, and even if I did, I have very few photos taken over 10 years ago. My family is really not big on picture taking, and in the event pictures are taken, they were not printed or saved, so finding a photo taken 10 years ago is difficult.
Instead, I offer a photo of souvenirs purchased just over 10 years ago on my first really international vacation. My adventure in 2000 was a Baltic cruise, with stops in Stockholm and Visby, Sweeden, Tallinn, Estonia, Helsinki, Finland, and St. Petersburg, Russia. It was a dream come true trip. I was in Russia. More than that I was in St. Petersburg! I was in The Winter Palace! I was on The Jordan Staircase. It was a fantastic trip, full of dream-come-true moments. And to commemorate that moment, I found two hand-painted barrettes. I wanted a souvenir of the trip that I could use and remember when I touched it or saw it. I wanted it to be something I could use for everydays, rather than saving it for special or displaying it in a curio cabinet. The barrettes were a perfect option. They have been scuffed and nicked and bear scars of 10 years of use. The gold paint is dulling, the metal clips are nicked and stiff. But they are still reminders of a trip of a lifetime.
Instead, I offer a photo of souvenirs purchased just over 10 years ago on my first really international vacation. My adventure in 2000 was a Baltic cruise, with stops in Stockholm and Visby, Sweeden, Tallinn, Estonia, Helsinki, Finland, and St. Petersburg, Russia. It was a dream come true trip. I was in Russia. More than that I was in St. Petersburg! I was in The Winter Palace! I was on The Jordan Staircase. It was a fantastic trip, full of dream-come-true moments. And to commemorate that moment, I found two hand-painted barrettes. I wanted a souvenir of the trip that I could use and remember when I touched it or saw it. I wanted it to be something I could use for everydays, rather than saving it for special or displaying it in a curio cabinet. The barrettes were a perfect option. They have been scuffed and nicked and bear scars of 10 years of use. The gold paint is dulling, the metal clips are nicked and stiff. But they are still reminders of a trip of a lifetime.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Sparkles in the Dark
Day 9 – a photo you took
Parc de la Francophonie, Quebec, Province Quebec, Canada -- September 29, 2008
It was an overcast, grey, drippy, autumn day, with a stiff, bracing wind blowing between the buildings the day we explored Quebec. We had been to the City before, but never this far outside the walls. We were walking up Grande Allée Est from the Gate at Rue Saint Louis, having spent the better part of the morning along Terrasse-Dufferin and exploring the Plains of Abraham and Battlefield Park. We were on our way to find the restaurant where we had planned to have dinner and we passed this little park -- really just a square city block of green space with a couple of monuments at either end -- but it was beautifully manicured and maintained, and in front of what we later found out was the shell of the Quebec City Armoury that had burned earlier in the year. Even in the burnt state, the Armoury building was beautiful, and since we had no real urgency, I suggested we take a wander through the park, enjoying the weather and the scenery to see what we could find. It was, as I said, a lovely Lynn-ish day and I was having a good time checking out the plantings in the park. They were mainly evergreen shrubs and hearty winter-proof bushes, but a garden of different textures and shades of green can be equally as beautiful as a garden full of riotous color. I was watching where I was walking over the asphalt path and I caught the faintest flash of something glistening among the dense green needles. When I looked down to investigate further, I found there was just enough sunlight breaking through the steely grey sky to glint off the drops of the morning rain trapped on the gossamer-fine spider web. I took several pictures to make sure I got a halfway decent one with my idiot-proof point & shoot digital camera, hoping to get one that was good enough to keep. I think I did very well.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Moving the Mountain, One Grain at a Time
Day 8 - a picture that makes you angry/sad
Little Sahara, Kangaroo Island, South Australia, Australia -- June 30, 2007
This picture makes me sad. It's a picture from the top of the Little Sahara sand dune on Kangaroo Island. This was one of the best days I have ever had on a vacation. From being jumped by a mob of juvenile kangaroos to not finding red-tailed black cockatoos. It was a fantastic day -- great scenery, and wonderful people to share with. The memory of the day is not the part that makes me sad. It's the fact that I miss the friend who shared this adventure with me. A silly fight ended the friendship, and I miss having the shared memory. I know I was there, and I know we both scaled the sand dune, but it seems an empty victory. And the emptiness overwhelms the happiness.
This picture makes me sad. It's a picture from the top of the Little Sahara sand dune on Kangaroo Island. This was one of the best days I have ever had on a vacation. From being jumped by a mob of juvenile kangaroos to not finding red-tailed black cockatoos. It was a fantastic day -- great scenery, and wonderful people to share with. The memory of the day is not the part that makes me sad. It's the fact that I miss the friend who shared this adventure with me. A silly fight ended the friendship, and I miss having the shared memory. I know I was there, and I know we both scaled the sand dune, but it seems an empty victory. And the emptiness overwhelms the happiness.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
At Papa's House
Day 7 - a photo that makes you happy
Hemingway House, Key West, Florida, USA -- January 12, 2009
I was on a cruise that stopped in Key West, and had opted to take a ship-sponsored shore excursion that toured the island, with stops at Hemingway House and President Truman's Little White House. I was thrilled to be at Hemingway House. The polydactyl cats in residence there, descendants of the original 6-toed cat that was present to Mr. Hemingway, are used for feline behavioral studies. I have been interested in seeing the cats since I saw a nature program on feline behavior and the colony of cats at the house were featured. I have no interest in Ernest Hemingway at all. I slogged through, and promptly forgot, the one book by him I was required to read in high school. In fact, I forgot it so thoroughly that I do not honestly remember if it was For Whom the Bell Tolls or The Sun Also Rises. The only thing I have ever read that I enjoyed by Hemingway was The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. The history, artifacts, and memorabilia in the house do not interest me at all. I truly went to the Hemingway House to see the cats, to see where they live, to watch them interact, and to experience a bit of time in the cats' world. Ditching the tour as soon as possible, with the intention of rejoining the group again upon exiting the house, I wandered happily around the grounds for half an hour to 45 minutes, finding and watching the cats.
As we were getting ready to leave the grounds, I stopped to wait for another tour group to enter. I was waiting in the shade offered by a lush tropical tree of some ilk and idly looking at a flowering bush that was steadily encroaching on the narrow bricked path. Looking down, in a vain effort to identify either the bush or the shade tree, I saw a bit of black on the ground. Leaning in further I saw the the black was actually fur, and that the fur was actually attached to a cat. The cat, as the creatures are want to do, did not look like he relished the idea of being disturbed, but granted me a half-interested kitty-cat smile. I had to snap the photo.
In looking at this photo, I can smell the moist sea air unique to Caribbean Islands, I can feel that same air clinging to me in the way the is not unique to tropical and subtropical natural saunas, I can hear the sounds of happy tourists and well-trained tour guides on the grounds of Hemingway House. I can see the cat escaping from the visitors to his world, but still willing to flash a smile to a visitor quiet and gentle enough to just look at him. I can't help but smile when I see the cat peeking out from he leaves and dripping flowers... It's a happy, pleasant memory.
I was on a cruise that stopped in Key West, and had opted to take a ship-sponsored shore excursion that toured the island, with stops at Hemingway House and President Truman's Little White House. I was thrilled to be at Hemingway House. The polydactyl cats in residence there, descendants of the original 6-toed cat that was present to Mr. Hemingway, are used for feline behavioral studies. I have been interested in seeing the cats since I saw a nature program on feline behavior and the colony of cats at the house were featured. I have no interest in Ernest Hemingway at all. I slogged through, and promptly forgot, the one book by him I was required to read in high school. In fact, I forgot it so thoroughly that I do not honestly remember if it was For Whom the Bell Tolls or The Sun Also Rises. The only thing I have ever read that I enjoyed by Hemingway was The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber. The history, artifacts, and memorabilia in the house do not interest me at all. I truly went to the Hemingway House to see the cats, to see where they live, to watch them interact, and to experience a bit of time in the cats' world. Ditching the tour as soon as possible, with the intention of rejoining the group again upon exiting the house, I wandered happily around the grounds for half an hour to 45 minutes, finding and watching the cats.
As we were getting ready to leave the grounds, I stopped to wait for another tour group to enter. I was waiting in the shade offered by a lush tropical tree of some ilk and idly looking at a flowering bush that was steadily encroaching on the narrow bricked path. Looking down, in a vain effort to identify either the bush or the shade tree, I saw a bit of black on the ground. Leaning in further I saw the the black was actually fur, and that the fur was actually attached to a cat. The cat, as the creatures are want to do, did not look like he relished the idea of being disturbed, but granted me a half-interested kitty-cat smile. I had to snap the photo.
In looking at this photo, I can smell the moist sea air unique to Caribbean Islands, I can feel that same air clinging to me in the way the is not unique to tropical and subtropical natural saunas, I can hear the sounds of happy tourists and well-trained tour guides on the grounds of Hemingway House. I can see the cat escaping from the visitors to his world, but still willing to flash a smile to a visitor quiet and gentle enough to just look at him. I can't help but smile when I see the cat peeking out from he leaves and dripping flowers... It's a happy, pleasant memory.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Favorites By the Numbers
Day 6 - 20 of your favorite things
Limiting myself to just 20? I am not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but here goes, mindful that some of my favorite things are not "things" in the tangible sense of the word. In no particular order:
Limiting myself to just 20? I am not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but here goes, mindful that some of my favorite things are not "things" in the tangible sense of the word. In no particular order:
- homemade egg custard
- warm fresh from the oven yeast rolls
- the smell outside just after a spring rain shower
- the colors of the sky at sunset
- the view from the deer crossing sign on Chenal Parkway, Little Rock
- the sounds and sights at sail away on a cruise
- the feel of the fur on my cat's chest
- the sound and feel of my cat purring
- the memories brought on by Simon and Garfunkel's The Boxer and America
- the sound of my husband saying my name
- my room, full to overflowing with my books and my stuff
- my waist
- the way christmas tree lights twinkle when I take my glasses off
- watching my favorite television shows
- watching my bookmark move through my books as I read them
- organizing things, making them orderly, neat and straight
- my ballet shoes, my tap shoes and my ballet barre
- my eyelashes
- handwritten with love mail or packages
- painting pictures with words
Friday, November 5, 2010
Being a Better Bartlett's
Day 5 -- your favorite quote
Picking my favorite quote is no easier than selecting my favorite song, movie, tv show, or book. I have several and no one quote fit every occasion or every facet of myself.
My current email signature quote comes from The Proclaimers song Sean:
The Oliver Wendell Holmes quote I have at the top of the left-hand sidebar:
One of my favorite books, Anne of Green Gables, gives me another of my favorite quotes
The last contender for favorite quote comes from one of my favorite movies, The Trouble with Angels. Mother Superior is discussing handling the troublemaking duo of Mary Clancy and Rachel Devery. She comments that the Church has been patient with her and she cannot be anything less with the students. She describes her struggle to be the best person she can as a struggle:
The most meaningful quotes are the ones you can find facets of yourself in. I see bits of myself -- the person I am, and the person I want to be, in all of those quotes. Taken together, they are my reminders to be the best Lynn I can be.
Picking my favorite quote is no easier than selecting my favorite song, movie, tv show, or book. I have several and no one quote fit every occasion or every facet of myself.
My current email signature quote comes from The Proclaimers song Sean:
Sean, I sat a while on clouds, to ask God if He's living; I should have spent some time on knees in thanks for what He's given.It serves as a reminder to myself that even when I am asking why and what, I should be be grateful for what I have. And I have a great deal, just sometimes in my greed and haste to have all I want, when I want it, I forget that.
The Oliver Wendell Holmes quote I have at the top of the left-hand sidebar:
Our greatest danger in life is in permitting the urgent to crowd out the important.is a current favorite, and plays to the same meaning as my email signature quote -- stopping and taking stock of what I have been given, rather than what I want or need.
One of my favorite books, Anne of Green Gables, gives me another of my favorite quotes
I went looking for my ideals outside myself, and found it's not what the world holds for you, but what you bring to it.which plays along the same theme. It's obviously an important theme. But this quote is also a reminder that I need to be myself, and please myself before I please other people. That's a lesson I forget sometimes.
The last contender for favorite quote comes from one of my favorite movies, The Trouble with Angels. Mother Superior is discussing handling the troublemaking duo of Mary Clancy and Rachel Devery. She comments that the Church has been patient with her and she cannot be anything less with the students. She describes her struggle to be the best person she can as a struggle:
to bend, but not to break; to yield but not capitulate; to have pride but also humility.It's a struggle I can identify with, because I have the same struggle to be the best person I can be.
The most meaningful quotes are the ones you can find facets of yourself in. I see bits of myself -- the person I am, and the person I want to be, in all of those quotes. Taken together, they are my reminders to be the best Lynn I can be.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Words the Page
Day 4 - your favorite book
Ohh! I love books. I have already admitted to you my blog readers that I am a hopeless book-a-holic. And my library is only growing. I have added two stacks of books since that entry. I love the the way my books look on my shelf, lined up in wobbly rows, spines out in a rainbow of colors and type. I love dust jackets, protecting the books with raised text and bright colorful pictures. I love the slick feel of the smooth matte paper covers of my trade paperbacks. I even like the ease of reading pocket paperbacks in those horrid "perfect" bindings. I love the comfortable, homey way my room smells when filled with the books. I love knowing that what bows down my shelves is not just soul-less paper and ink, but good friends and familiar adventures in welcoming worlds.
Picking just one of my 900+ books as my favorite is hard, and I have never been able to narrow it down to just one book. Even on my desert island list, I have 3 books:
Anne of Green Gables -- Anne Shirley is a good friend, and her world is a familiar to me as my own. I have read the book more times than I can count, but it never gets old, and there is something new to discover in each reading.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten -- the collection of short stories is perfect for when all I have is time for quick snippets and self-contained tales. I first read the book at the suggestion of my high school religion teacher, after she read the title essay to the class. I was not disappointed and still turn to the stories when I need re-affirmation that there is good in the world.
The View from Saturday -- this is a book geared toward children that I did not read until I was an adult. But it was a life-changing book when I did read it. The story of misfits finding themselves in each other really hit home to me. I was always a quiet person, always on the outside of groups -- never specifically excluded, but never actually invited to join either. The Souls appealed to me and I saw myself in them.
Those are the books I would pick to take with me on a desert island. The books I would save from a burning building, that's another subject and much harder to decide...
Ohh! I love books. I have already admitted to you my blog readers that I am a hopeless book-a-holic. And my library is only growing. I have added two stacks of books since that entry. I love the the way my books look on my shelf, lined up in wobbly rows, spines out in a rainbow of colors and type. I love dust jackets, protecting the books with raised text and bright colorful pictures. I love the slick feel of the smooth matte paper covers of my trade paperbacks. I even like the ease of reading pocket paperbacks in those horrid "perfect" bindings. I love the comfortable, homey way my room smells when filled with the books. I love knowing that what bows down my shelves is not just soul-less paper and ink, but good friends and familiar adventures in welcoming worlds.
Picking just one of my 900+ books as my favorite is hard, and I have never been able to narrow it down to just one book. Even on my desert island list, I have 3 books:
Anne of Green Gables -- Anne Shirley is a good friend, and her world is a familiar to me as my own. I have read the book more times than I can count, but it never gets old, and there is something new to discover in each reading.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten -- the collection of short stories is perfect for when all I have is time for quick snippets and self-contained tales. I first read the book at the suggestion of my high school religion teacher, after she read the title essay to the class. I was not disappointed and still turn to the stories when I need re-affirmation that there is good in the world.
The View from Saturday -- this is a book geared toward children that I did not read until I was an adult. But it was a life-changing book when I did read it. The story of misfits finding themselves in each other really hit home to me. I was always a quiet person, always on the outside of groups -- never specifically excluded, but never actually invited to join either. The Souls appealed to me and I saw myself in them.
Those are the books I would pick to take with me on a desert island. The books I would save from a burning building, that's another subject and much harder to decide...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Boxes of Candy
Day 3 – your favorite television program
It has to have eye candy.
It has to have a decent plot.
It has to have intelligent humor.
It has to be something I can watch again and again.
The Contenders:
Remington Steele
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Numb3rs
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Flashpoint
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Hogan's Heroes
eye candy -- no
decent plot -- same plot every episode
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
The Muppet Show
eye candy -- literally in some episodes
decent plot -- no plot at all
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
By those qualifications, Numb3rs and Flashpoint are strong candidates for my favorite tv show. But ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you. My favorite television show is Remington Steele. Since I was 9 years old and stayed up past my bedtime to watch it. Even now, I cannot pass an episode by. Before they came out on videotape, I carefully recorded every episode as it aired, twice (so that I would have a backup copy). I bought every episode that was released on videotape. And now I have them all on dvd. My younger brother bought each season for me as it was released, bringing the first to me while I was evacuated from my house for Hurricane Katrina. It was a bit a sanity and normalcy for me in a very turbulent time.
I own complete series and seasons of the other shows, and I will watch them, but none of them will hold a place in my heart and memories the same way Remington Steele does. Hands down, without question or qualification, it is my favorite television show.
It has to have eye candy.
It has to have a decent plot.
It has to have intelligent humor.
It has to be something I can watch again and again.
The Contenders:
Remington Steele
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Numb3rs
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Flashpoint
eye candy -- check
decent plot -- check
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
Hogan's Heroes
eye candy -- no
decent plot -- same plot every episode
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
The Muppet Show
eye candy -- literally in some episodes
decent plot -- no plot at all
intelligent humor -- check
re-watch-ability -- check
By those qualifications, Numb3rs and Flashpoint are strong candidates for my favorite tv show. But ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you. My favorite television show is Remington Steele. Since I was 9 years old and stayed up past my bedtime to watch it. Even now, I cannot pass an episode by. Before they came out on videotape, I carefully recorded every episode as it aired, twice (so that I would have a backup copy). I bought every episode that was released on videotape. And now I have them all on dvd. My younger brother bought each season for me as it was released, bringing the first to me while I was evacuated from my house for Hurricane Katrina. It was a bit a sanity and normalcy for me in a very turbulent time.
I own complete series and seasons of the other shows, and I will watch them, but none of them will hold a place in my heart and memories the same way Remington Steele does. Hands down, without question or qualification, it is my favorite television show.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Moving Pictures of Me
Day 2 – your favorite movie
Much like my favorite song is hard to pick, my favorite movie is as well. So much of that depends on mood. More often than not, I am in the mood for a romantic comedy and The Princess Bride and/or Say Anything fits the bill. Some times I am in the mood for a straight out comedy, and in that case, I will pick The Great Muppet Caper - who can resist Kermit the Frog and Lew Zealand? If I am in the mood for something long and sweeping, I will break out The Sound of Music, which is also my pick for a musical mood, or Kevin Sullivan's Anne of Green Gables miniseries. Classic movies with classic movie actors, I pop in Little Women starring Katherine Hepburn. Guilty pleasure movies? I get out Clue or While You Were Sleeping. A Walk in the Clouds, The Blues Brothers, A Fish Called Wanda, and Four Weddings and a Funeral are on my list of go-to films for rainy days as well. White Christmas is my all-time holiday classic. But if you want my can't live without them movies, I have to go with a Rosalind Russell mini-fest and get out Auntie Mame (she owns that role!!!) and The Trouble with Angels.
My library of movies is varied. I have classic Hollywood movies, I have modern comedies, I have should-have-been-forgotten movies, sappy made-for-tv melodramas, animated movies that despite the G-rating were never intended solely for children, and seminal moment movies. Like my library, I have a hard time sticking to only one genre and picking my favorite would leave out so many options that might make the list on another day. I can quote all or parts of more movies than I can count, and I have never seen movies regarded as cinematic classics. I know esoteric films and do not know ones that media thinks I should. But the movies that rank on my lists of favorites paint a fairly accurate picture of me. And that is just what should be on a list of favorites -- enough of anything so that a perfect stranger would be able to develop an accurate picture of you. And the picture that would be painted of me would be a little bit classic, a little bit offbeat -- an irreverent conformist.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Notabale Notes
Day 1 – your favorite song
I am not really sure I have a favorite song. I hear so many throughout the day. It is nearly impossible to get through one day without hearing at least snippets of songs from all over... on the way to or from work, people's cell phones ringing, in elevators, on television, in advertisements, from other people singing or humming. It is nearly impossible to escape being bombarded by such an aural overload. So many times the songs running through my own head are halted, jumbled, and interspersed with songs I hear out and about into a massive, strange and unique mash-up. And often, I mix the beginning of one song with the middle of another and the end of a third or fourth -- musically and lyrically. I am not the most reliable source to ask about songs.
And asking about my favorite is influenced by what I have recently heard or what is playing currently. I am much more likely to have a least favorite song, simply due to over exposure. When I was on my way back to college one time, I heard Kathy's Clown on every single radio station we tuned to for the entire 8-hour drive. It has turned me off the song. There was a time when the radio station that was on at work played the same songs in the same order every weekday during the 12-1 lunch hour. It got to the point where I could not stand to hear The Wedding Song, Strawberry Fields Forever or Crimson & Clover again. That could explain why I cannot now think of Strawberry Fields Forever without tacking on Crimson & Clover. The Wedding Song has grown on me, but I can still only take it in small, well-spaced doses. Not long ago, U2's Vertigo was everywhere I turned -- tv, radio, grocery stores, even Musak on the elevators. I had so much of it, I didn't even bother purchasing How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (no doubt cheating myself out of some great album tracks in the process) because I was so burned out on that song.
Yes, my least favorite song, at any given time, is much easier to quantify.
As for my favorite, I am not sure I know how to answer that. When I am content, I can often be heard humming the refrain to Singing in the Rain, and I have no real explanation for why it always that song. I also hear Molly Malone a great deal, which is odd, as I can really never remember hearing the song before. The only memories I have of it are in my own head. If you go on strict play-count numbers (thank you iTunes for keeping track of such meaningless statistics), it would be a toss-up between Aberystwyth and Your Ship Has Gone, both with 15 plays. If you take it to mean songs that evoke nice memories, pretty much anything by Simon and Garfunkel or Rockapella fits the bill. Having seen both acts live, I can see the performers as I hear the songs and just in case you were wondering, El Condor Pasa, The Boxer, Where In the World is Carmen Sandiego, and A Change in My Life rank as the ones I remember most vividly.
Yes, my favorite song is hard to pin down, but if you want a one (okay two) word answer right now, it would have to be Kathy's Song.
I am not really sure I have a favorite song. I hear so many throughout the day. It is nearly impossible to get through one day without hearing at least snippets of songs from all over... on the way to or from work, people's cell phones ringing, in elevators, on television, in advertisements, from other people singing or humming. It is nearly impossible to escape being bombarded by such an aural overload. So many times the songs running through my own head are halted, jumbled, and interspersed with songs I hear out and about into a massive, strange and unique mash-up. And often, I mix the beginning of one song with the middle of another and the end of a third or fourth -- musically and lyrically. I am not the most reliable source to ask about songs.
And asking about my favorite is influenced by what I have recently heard or what is playing currently. I am much more likely to have a least favorite song, simply due to over exposure. When I was on my way back to college one time, I heard Kathy's Clown on every single radio station we tuned to for the entire 8-hour drive. It has turned me off the song. There was a time when the radio station that was on at work played the same songs in the same order every weekday during the 12-1 lunch hour. It got to the point where I could not stand to hear The Wedding Song, Strawberry Fields Forever or Crimson & Clover again. That could explain why I cannot now think of Strawberry Fields Forever without tacking on Crimson & Clover. The Wedding Song has grown on me, but I can still only take it in small, well-spaced doses. Not long ago, U2's Vertigo was everywhere I turned -- tv, radio, grocery stores, even Musak on the elevators. I had so much of it, I didn't even bother purchasing How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb (no doubt cheating myself out of some great album tracks in the process) because I was so burned out on that song.
Yes, my least favorite song, at any given time, is much easier to quantify.
As for my favorite, I am not sure I know how to answer that. When I am content, I can often be heard humming the refrain to Singing in the Rain, and I have no real explanation for why it always that song. I also hear Molly Malone a great deal, which is odd, as I can really never remember hearing the song before. The only memories I have of it are in my own head. If you go on strict play-count numbers (thank you iTunes for keeping track of such meaningless statistics), it would be a toss-up between Aberystwyth and Your Ship Has Gone, both with 15 plays. If you take it to mean songs that evoke nice memories, pretty much anything by Simon and Garfunkel or Rockapella fits the bill. Having seen both acts live, I can see the performers as I hear the songs and just in case you were wondering, El Condor Pasa, The Boxer, Where In the World is Carmen Sandiego, and A Change in My Life rank as the ones I remember most vividly.
Yes, my favorite song is hard to pin down, but if you want a one (okay two) word answer right now, it would have to be Kathy's Song.
30-Day Challenge
Ohh no! Not another challenge at which I can fail miserably. But yes. I am trying something different this time.
Some (if not all) of this month's posts come from a post I read on The Blondini Show. I am sure she will not mind if I borrow the idea.
For the month of November, I will strive to about these topics and we'll see how it goes. Looking over the list, I know already I have posted about one topic and will have difficulty with another. But I am anxious to see how it goes.
Day 1 – your favorite song
Day 2 – your favorite movie
Day 3 – your favorite television program
Day 4 – your favorite book
Day 5 – your favorite quote
Day 6 – 20 of my favorite things
Day 7 – a photo that makes you happy
Day 8 – a photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 9 – a photo you took
Day 10 – a photo taken over 10 years ago of you
Day 11 – a photo of you recently
Day 12 – something you are OCD about
Day 13 – a fictional book
Day 14 – a non-fictional book
Day 15 – your dream house
Day 16 – a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 – an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc)
Day 18 – my wedding/future wedding/past wedding
Day 19 – a talent of yours
Day 20 – a hobby of yours
Day 21 – a recipe
Day 22 – a website
Day 23 – a youtube video
Day 24 – where I live
Day 25 – your day, in great detail
Day 26 – your week, in great detail
Day 27 – my worst habit
Day 28 – whats in my handbag/purse
Day 29 – hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 – a dream for the future
Some (if not all) of this month's posts come from a post I read on The Blondini Show. I am sure she will not mind if I borrow the idea.
For the month of November, I will strive to about these topics and we'll see how it goes. Looking over the list, I know already I have posted about one topic and will have difficulty with another. But I am anxious to see how it goes.
Day 1 – your favorite song
Day 2 – your favorite movie
Day 3 – your favorite television program
Day 4 – your favorite book
Day 5 – your favorite quote
Day 6 – 20 of my favorite things
Day 7 – a photo that makes you happy
Day 8 – a photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 9 – a photo you took
Day 10 – a photo taken over 10 years ago of you
Day 11 – a photo of you recently
Day 12 – something you are OCD about
Day 13 – a fictional book
Day 14 – a non-fictional book
Day 15 – your dream house
Day 16 – a song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 – an art piece (drawing, sculpture, painting, etc)
Day 18 – my wedding/future wedding/past wedding
Day 19 – a talent of yours
Day 20 – a hobby of yours
Day 21 – a recipe
Day 22 – a website
Day 23 – a youtube video
Day 24 – where I live
Day 25 – your day, in great detail
Day 26 – your week, in great detail
Day 27 – my worst habit
Day 28 – whats in my handbag/purse
Day 29 – hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 – a dream for the future
Friday, October 22, 2010
Kicking the Bucket
There has been a lot of talk lately about “bucket lists” – things you want to do before you die. I am not sure I like the term bucket list, it seem rather morbid to me, but that does not mean I do not have a list of Lynn’s Life Dreams waiting to be ticked off as complete. Of course, having already done the #1 thing on my Life Dream list, I was at a loss for other things to populate the tick make boxes. But I think I have come up with a fairly good list:
□ Visit the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, Russia – I did this in 2000. I walked up and down the Jordan Staircase and walked where Tsar Nicholas II had. I looked out windows to the Neva River, seeing much the same view Tsar Nicholas II saw. I had dreamed of that moment since I was 13 and learned the story of Grand Duchess Anastasia. It was a dream come true moment.
□ Visit Perth, Australia – I read somewhere that Perth is the most isolated city in the world; it is further from another city than any other place in the world, and the closest city to Perth isn’t even in Australia. I do not know if that is true, but it made me want to visit Perth nonetheless. I have no idea what is in Perth, but that does not deter me from wanting to be there to see it.
□ Visit Oslo, Norway and Copenhagen, Denmark – I have been to Stockholm and Helsinki, so Olso and Copenhagen would complete the Scandinavian capitals tour. Besides, I enjoyed being in the Baltic so much that I am looking for any excuse to go back.
□ See the Midnight Sun with my husband – he once mentioned to me that he dreamt of seeing the Midnight Sun and whether he remembers that comment or not, I would love to share that experience with him.
□ Introduce my favorite places to my husband – seeing my favorite places through another set of eyes is one of the best parts of traveling and I can’t wait to explore the world – old favorites and new discoveries alike with him.
□ Have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens in Quebec City, Canada – I tried on my first visit to the city to have a meal there, but it never worked out, and on subsequent visits, I have deliberately not attempted, knowing in my own mind that when I finally do get there it will be my last visit to the City, so I am saving that for a much later visit.
□ Visit at least one UNESCO World Heritage List site in every country on my must-visit list – I have ticked off three or four, but only two after I knew the list existed.
□ See Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland – my great aunt took classes at Trinity College when she lived in Ireland with her first husband. She was a fantastic lady and I adored everything about her. And while she never really talked all that much about her time in Ireland with me, I know she loved every minute she was there. Trinity College Library is as much about experiencing a moment of her life as it as is seeing the books and being enveloped in the history housed there.
It’s not a long or comprehensive list, but it is the list of things that would be considered my Life Dream List. Sitting down and categorizing them as must-do things makes them seem impossible dreams. And while my life will not in any way be incomplete if I do not tick off the boxes, having the list makes me feel as though each passing minute I delay even one of them is a wasted moment.
Best be off to plan the next adventure then...
□ Visit the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, Russia – I did this in 2000. I walked up and down the Jordan Staircase and walked where Tsar Nicholas II had. I looked out windows to the Neva River, seeing much the same view Tsar Nicholas II saw. I had dreamed of that moment since I was 13 and learned the story of Grand Duchess Anastasia. It was a dream come true moment.
□ Visit Perth, Australia – I read somewhere that Perth is the most isolated city in the world; it is further from another city than any other place in the world, and the closest city to Perth isn’t even in Australia. I do not know if that is true, but it made me want to visit Perth nonetheless. I have no idea what is in Perth, but that does not deter me from wanting to be there to see it.
□ Visit Oslo, Norway and Copenhagen, Denmark – I have been to Stockholm and Helsinki, so Olso and Copenhagen would complete the Scandinavian capitals tour. Besides, I enjoyed being in the Baltic so much that I am looking for any excuse to go back.
□ See the Midnight Sun with my husband – he once mentioned to me that he dreamt of seeing the Midnight Sun and whether he remembers that comment or not, I would love to share that experience with him.
□ Introduce my favorite places to my husband – seeing my favorite places through another set of eyes is one of the best parts of traveling and I can’t wait to explore the world – old favorites and new discoveries alike with him.
□ Have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens in Quebec City, Canada – I tried on my first visit to the city to have a meal there, but it never worked out, and on subsequent visits, I have deliberately not attempted, knowing in my own mind that when I finally do get there it will be my last visit to the City, so I am saving that for a much later visit.
□ Visit at least one UNESCO World Heritage List site in every country on my must-visit list – I have ticked off three or four, but only two after I knew the list existed.
□ See Trinity College Library in Dublin, Ireland – my great aunt took classes at Trinity College when she lived in Ireland with her first husband. She was a fantastic lady and I adored everything about her. And while she never really talked all that much about her time in Ireland with me, I know she loved every minute she was there. Trinity College Library is as much about experiencing a moment of her life as it as is seeing the books and being enveloped in the history housed there.
It’s not a long or comprehensive list, but it is the list of things that would be considered my Life Dream List. Sitting down and categorizing them as must-do things makes them seem impossible dreams. And while my life will not in any way be incomplete if I do not tick off the boxes, having the list makes me feel as though each passing minute I delay even one of them is a wasted moment.
Best be off to plan the next adventure then...
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Seeing Red, Green, and Black?
The building I work in has made a decision to “Going Green.”
To that end, management has implemented several new policies, including touchless, battery-operated towel and soap dispensers in the ladies’ room – I can only assume that similar changes were made in the men’s room as well – and cutting the climate control system off overnight and all day on the weekends. My opinion is that these are feel-good measures, rather than having any real environmental impact at all.
Quite aside from my invisibility to touchless dispensers, I am not convinced that their use in the building is more environmentally friendly. Prior to the installation of the touchless devices, we had manually operated soap and towel dispensers – the kind where you pulled a lever for a pre-measured squirt of soap or length of paper towel. The system worked, and worked well, even in the event of loss of power in the building. While the new touchless devices are battery-operated, I am not sure they are any more environmentally friendly. Batteries are notorious as land-fill cloggers, and added to that, they leak dangerous chemicals if ruptured (or even over time as they age). Recycling batteries is a hit or miss prospect and while I have never seen anything to the contrary, I doubt the batteries used in the touchless devices are of the rechargeable variety. This means that on first glance, the building, in a effort to “Go Green,” has actually installed a product that is more harmful to the environment than what it replaced. I will need to see the studies on the waste produced by manually operated soap and towel dispensers as compared to the environmental savings gained by using battery-operated ones.
Likewise, I will need to see the research on the environmental savings in shutting off the climate control system in a 28-story building versus maintaining a reasonable temperature 24 hours a day. By that I mean, is it truly more environmentally sound to heat or cool the building during working hours only to have to repeat the process every morning? I would think it would take less energy to maintain the temperature, than it would to counteract the heating/cooling that took place overnight. Twenty-eight stories is a great deal of air, and hot air rises, meaning that on summer nights in New Orleans, which often do not drop below 80°, there is a huge column of air to be cooled in the mornings. Similarly at night in the winter, there are twenty-eight floors of air-space for the hot air to rise through, leaving the lower floors icy. The problem is compounded when you consider that floors 2 though 9 are a parking garage, open to the elements and subject to the heat produced by countless cars driving and parking every day. I am not so sure the decision to turn off the climate control system is environmentally sound. I am more likely to believe it is bottom-line building-operations sound.
This is not to say that I am against “Going Green.” I am all for reducing our collective impact on the environment. But I think the choices made need to result in a true reduction of environmental impact, rather than being feel-good measures driven not by a commitment to the environment, but by commitments to the bottom line. The number on the bottom of the balance sheet should not be more important. If it is one is not “Going Green,” one is “Going Black.”
To that end, management has implemented several new policies, including touchless, battery-operated towel and soap dispensers in the ladies’ room – I can only assume that similar changes were made in the men’s room as well – and cutting the climate control system off overnight and all day on the weekends. My opinion is that these are feel-good measures, rather than having any real environmental impact at all.
Quite aside from my invisibility to touchless dispensers, I am not convinced that their use in the building is more environmentally friendly. Prior to the installation of the touchless devices, we had manually operated soap and towel dispensers – the kind where you pulled a lever for a pre-measured squirt of soap or length of paper towel. The system worked, and worked well, even in the event of loss of power in the building. While the new touchless devices are battery-operated, I am not sure they are any more environmentally friendly. Batteries are notorious as land-fill cloggers, and added to that, they leak dangerous chemicals if ruptured (or even over time as they age). Recycling batteries is a hit or miss prospect and while I have never seen anything to the contrary, I doubt the batteries used in the touchless devices are of the rechargeable variety. This means that on first glance, the building, in a effort to “Go Green,” has actually installed a product that is more harmful to the environment than what it replaced. I will need to see the studies on the waste produced by manually operated soap and towel dispensers as compared to the environmental savings gained by using battery-operated ones.
Likewise, I will need to see the research on the environmental savings in shutting off the climate control system in a 28-story building versus maintaining a reasonable temperature 24 hours a day. By that I mean, is it truly more environmentally sound to heat or cool the building during working hours only to have to repeat the process every morning? I would think it would take less energy to maintain the temperature, than it would to counteract the heating/cooling that took place overnight. Twenty-eight stories is a great deal of air, and hot air rises, meaning that on summer nights in New Orleans, which often do not drop below 80°, there is a huge column of air to be cooled in the mornings. Similarly at night in the winter, there are twenty-eight floors of air-space for the hot air to rise through, leaving the lower floors icy. The problem is compounded when you consider that floors 2 though 9 are a parking garage, open to the elements and subject to the heat produced by countless cars driving and parking every day. I am not so sure the decision to turn off the climate control system is environmentally sound. I am more likely to believe it is bottom-line building-operations sound.
This is not to say that I am against “Going Green.” I am all for reducing our collective impact on the environment. But I think the choices made need to result in a true reduction of environmental impact, rather than being feel-good measures driven not by a commitment to the environment, but by commitments to the bottom line. The number on the bottom of the balance sheet should not be more important. If it is one is not “Going Green,” one is “Going Black.”
Monday, October 18, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Desiring Little Luxuries
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress:
I saw this dress in a catalog just yesterday and already it is taking over my thoughts. I am nearly obsessed with this dress. I want it. I have no where to wear it; I already have four party dresses that do not get enough wear, I really do not need another one. Though this one could replace one that I like in theory but not so much on me. But there again, I would still have four party dresses and no where to wear them. My current lifestyle does not lend itself to occasions to wear party dresses (this from the person who takes a cruise a year), and it's doubtful that in the future my lifestyle will be any different. So, can I justify the expense of another party dress to just hang in my closet looking pretty?
A while ago, my family had a discussion on determining the difference between needs and wants. One needs food, clothing, and shelter. One wants caviar, custom-tailored suits, and a vacation home. By those criteria, this dress falls into a want. And it is definitely a want. I know that. The dress is impractical for day-to-day wear, cannot be worn to the office, and is really limited as to the places I can wear it. It's a want. I know that. But when does something stop being a want and become something that is an allowable indulgence? At just under $100, it's not really that much of an indulgence. And it is a dry clean only dress, so I have to figure the cost of laundering into the cost of the dress. I can afford the dress and the dry cleaning. So the issue is not that buying the dress would mean a sacrifice of a necessity. The dress is a pure luxury.
Which is definitely why I am having such a hard time saying no to myself. Do I deserve such a luxury? Do I need such a luxury?
Need versus Want.
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress I want.
A while ago, my family had a discussion on determining the difference between needs and wants. One needs food, clothing, and shelter. One wants caviar, custom-tailored suits, and a vacation home. By those criteria, this dress falls into a want. And it is definitely a want. I know that. The dress is impractical for day-to-day wear, cannot be worn to the office, and is really limited as to the places I can wear it. It's a want. I know that. But when does something stop being a want and become something that is an allowable indulgence? At just under $100, it's not really that much of an indulgence. And it is a dry clean only dress, so I have to figure the cost of laundering into the cost of the dress. I can afford the dress and the dry cleaning. So the issue is not that buying the dress would mean a sacrifice of a necessity. The dress is a pure luxury.
Which is definitely why I am having such a hard time saying no to myself. Do I deserve such a luxury? Do I need such a luxury?
Need versus Want.
I need someone to talk me out of purchasing this dress I want.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Super Powers?
I have long held that my super power is that of invisibility. More times than I care to count, people overlook me or forget I am in the room or, more often, forget that someone is within listening distance. This is not altogether a bad thing; I find out things I am not supposed to, or am often privy to what are assumed to be personal conversations. Not that I ever tell the secrets I learn this way, but it is a nice perk to being invisible.
Sometimes, being invisible has its disadvantages. I will not tell you how many times I got stuck in the automatic revolving door at the hotel connected to my office building because the sensor could not see me. But lately, my invisibility has been causing bigger problems.
For reasons unbeknownst to me (no doubt as part of the “Going Green” campaign – I will discuss that more later), my building has installed touchless soap and towel dispensers in the ladies’ rooms. While this sounds like a good idea – it’s more sanitary, less wasteful and all that, my invisibility creates problems – often I cannot get the soap to dispense. This makes it sound, to the ohh-so-observant occupant of the stall, like I am not using soap to wash my hands. And if by some miracle I get the machine to squirt out a drop of pre-foamed soap, I cannot get the towel dispenser to see me, so I walk around with wet hands, or am forced to use the toilet paper to dry my hands. (I suppose I should be thankful no one has developed a touchless toilet paper dispenser.)
It’s not so much that I object to the touchless dispensers, I can really see some sense in them, but please, for those of us who are invisible, would it be possible to put in a manual override?
Sometimes, being invisible has its disadvantages. I will not tell you how many times I got stuck in the automatic revolving door at the hotel connected to my office building because the sensor could not see me. But lately, my invisibility has been causing bigger problems.
For reasons unbeknownst to me (no doubt as part of the “Going Green” campaign – I will discuss that more later), my building has installed touchless soap and towel dispensers in the ladies’ rooms. While this sounds like a good idea – it’s more sanitary, less wasteful and all that, my invisibility creates problems – often I cannot get the soap to dispense. This makes it sound, to the ohh-so-observant occupant of the stall, like I am not using soap to wash my hands. And if by some miracle I get the machine to squirt out a drop of pre-foamed soap, I cannot get the towel dispenser to see me, so I walk around with wet hands, or am forced to use the toilet paper to dry my hands. (I suppose I should be thankful no one has developed a touchless toilet paper dispenser.)
It’s not so much that I object to the touchless dispensers, I can really see some sense in them, but please, for those of us who are invisible, would it be possible to put in a manual override?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Thoughts of Home
I grew up in a single family home, with a nice sized yard, complete with the requisite azalea bush hedge and shade trees suitable for swings. I lived in the middle of a block of similar homes. There are four other houses with identical layouts to mine on the block interspersed among 4 other available plans; the result of the post-Post-War building boom. I have nothing against my house. It's well constructed, well insulated and has held up to 35+ years of a family's life.
But now, as I am getting to the point in my life when it is possible to have my very own dream house, I have begun to ponder what I want in that dream house. And I have decided that I want a townhome – the bigger-than-apartments, but still shared-wall structures common to downtown, urban areas and transition neighborhoods. From the time I was very little, the townhomes I saw were always the epitome of luxury to me – stately, chic and elegant, large enough to be useful, and yet not too large for practicality. It helped that most of the ones I saw had mailslots instead of mailboxes and mailslots have always been an unattainable luxury to me, especially the shiny brass ones with too cute brass baskets on the backside to catch the mail as it slips into the house. But I have always thought it would be wonderful to live in a townhome. I am sure there were less than elegant things associated with sharing walls, as well as yards and parking spaces with your neighbors, but the elegance of the dream always outweighed any negatives.
No matter how I come to work in the mornings, or go home in the evenings, I pass several groups of townhomes – downtown I pass the older townhomes, sharing walls not only with other homes, but with store-fronts, galleries, professional offices, restaurants, museums, etc. in an area of the city, known quite fittingly as the Arts District. I watch as the old structures are renovated one at a time, with their insides finished in the sleek hardwoods and granite that are popular today, while their outsides are stuck in bygone eras of their initial construction.
In my much more suburban, residential neighborhood, I pass a purpose-built development of townhomes from the late 1960's, each block of homes nearly identical, with manicured and landscaped lawns in front and neat, trim, tidy walkways leading from the community areas.
As I pass each unit walking along the quiet suburban street, or waiting for my ride on the busier downtown thoroughfare, I daydream about begin home there – curling up with my books and a nice mug of steamy cocoa on wintry nights, hanging Christmas stockings on the stairs, throwing open the windows to let in the glorious rush of spring turning to summer air, kicking through the fall leaves as I walk up the path on crisp autumn evenings. Yes, they are the style of home I can imagine myself living in.
I may not ever get my dream home in one, but I think I will always have a soft spot for the potential ... and my urbane, sophisticated secret identity who could live there.
But now, as I am getting to the point in my life when it is possible to have my very own dream house, I have begun to ponder what I want in that dream house. And I have decided that I want a townhome – the bigger-than-apartments, but still shared-wall structures common to downtown, urban areas and transition neighborhoods. From the time I was very little, the townhomes I saw were always the epitome of luxury to me – stately, chic and elegant, large enough to be useful, and yet not too large for practicality. It helped that most of the ones I saw had mailslots instead of mailboxes and mailslots have always been an unattainable luxury to me, especially the shiny brass ones with too cute brass baskets on the backside to catch the mail as it slips into the house. But I have always thought it would be wonderful to live in a townhome. I am sure there were less than elegant things associated with sharing walls, as well as yards and parking spaces with your neighbors, but the elegance of the dream always outweighed any negatives.
No matter how I come to work in the mornings, or go home in the evenings, I pass several groups of townhomes – downtown I pass the older townhomes, sharing walls not only with other homes, but with store-fronts, galleries, professional offices, restaurants, museums, etc. in an area of the city, known quite fittingly as the Arts District. I watch as the old structures are renovated one at a time, with their insides finished in the sleek hardwoods and granite that are popular today, while their outsides are stuck in bygone eras of their initial construction.
I may not ever get my dream home in one, but I think I will always have a soft spot for the potential ... and my urbane, sophisticated secret identity who could live there.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Au Revoir Quebec, Pour Maintenant
My second day in Quebec dawned and we had no real plans. I wanted to take some pictures of the things I had missed the day before, and have a wander, and my brother wanted to eat ashore one more time before the cruise ended. So after breakfast, we headed out for a day of adventuring.
We set out to show our parents a few interesting things we had learned on our tour the previous day and to head to the Funiculaire for another trip[ to Upper Town. One day I am going to brave the Escalier Casse-Cou, but I think I may brave it down rather than up. To me, it's much like the stairs at St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal – it’s a lovely idea to make the pilgrimage and go up the mountain on the stairs, but I am not ready to do it. And I am not sure I’ll ever be patient or penitent enough to take the pilgrimage to the Oratory on my knees. But I am thinking one day I will make up and down the Escalier Casse-Cou, probably the same trip I finally have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens, but those are adventures to save for another time. This time, we took the Funiculaire to the top and headed over to Place d’Armes to discuss our plan for the day. My brother and I both had souvenirs to buy and places to visit, and Mom and Dad just wanted to be out in the gorgeous spring weather. We split off at the Place d’Armes with reminders to make it back to the ship before sailway, which had been moved up and hour due to higher than usual tides, and the fact that the ship had to make it under a bridge to get to Montreal. We promised we would not miss sailaway, and to hold everyone to that, I decided to procure snacks for our personal sailaway festivities.
After leaving our parents, we took a walk down the Dufferin Terrace, stopping to enjoy the view out to the St. Lawrence River. Along the way, we checked out the excavation site for the 400th Anniversary of Quebec, excited to see that the history will be preserved. I am always town between preserving the history and making it accessible for everyone. I did my honors thesis in college on tourist-caused damage, focusing mainly on unintentional damage – ruts worn in floors or stair treads, the wearing down or altering of stalactites/stalagmites in caves from body oils, temperature and humidity changes just due to more people in a space than it was intended to house – rather than overt acts of vandalism. Since then, I cannot look at historical sites without wondering the cost in terms of tourist-caused damage as opposed to the educational or economic benefit. It’s a trade-off and there are no good answers. Nothing makes things as real as actually experiencing them, but at the same time, in experiencing them, we are destroying them for future generations. Like I said, there are no good answers. A friend quotes another friend who maintained she was a good tourist, as she never left the path. I am not sure if that is not the answer. People being how they are, want hands-on experiences, and leaving the path is a must for that.
After the not at all disappointing journey through the bottle shop, we headed back down to lower town. We were still on the hunt for souvenirs and we wanted to find the second fresco, so we took a walk and we did something strange. Instead of taking our usual path back to the ship, we turned left! And we found a whole new shopping area, just the kind we, as tourists, were looking for. It was not a secret area, but it was new to us and I reveled in the trip down the cobbled street. Almost at the end, we found the second fresco, as well as a Lush and a sugar shack storefront, where we indulged in maple sugar goodness of all kinds, including maple sugar sandwich cookies for sailaway.
Walking back from the Lush, and having had our appetites piqued by the maple sugary goodness on offer at the suiar shack, we decided we were ready for lunch, and while we hated to miss a stop at the “everything on a Belgian waffle” place we enjoy so much, we did not want to head back to Upper Town, so we walked along the cobblestone streets until we found a bistro that was calling to us. And I am so glad we did! Bistro du Cap was fantastic. It is the kind of place that can easily be overlooked by those faux-gourmands who think that nothing good can come from a place that looks less than perfect. Don’t let the looks of the place fool you. The menu appears to be two-fold – a section of always-available crêpes and sandwiches a section of ever-changing daily specials, based on what is fresh and good at the market that morning. We ordered some from both sections. I ordered a bowl of soup, which was supposed to be gazpacho, but ended up being cream of asparagus, a beautifully blended, rich, creamy soup with none of the woodiness I find common to asparagus. I followed the soup with smoked salmon crostini – thin slices of smoked salmon over an herbed cream cheese on crisp, crunchy baguette rounds. My brother had the cream of asparagus soup (his was always intended to be cream of asparagus) and the sautéed chicken liver salad. We each shared a bit of the others' main dish, and those sautéed chicken livers are definitely made it to the list of the top five best things I have ever eaten. After my foray into an unusual surf and turf heaven, we lingered over a fresh berry crêpe before heading back to the ship for sailaway.
While the idea of starting a new life in Quebec appeals to both of us, it was time to head back to the ship and back to our real lives. The delightful 15-day escape was coming to an end and it was time. I missed my home, my own bed, my cat, and my dearest. The adventures are always wonderful and exciting, but it is nice to get back to my routine and the never-mundane reality.
Sailaway was interesting. Despite numerous warnings, printed in the daily schedule, on huge, prominent signs at the gangway and security checkpoints, and announcements from the bridge, that the time for departure had been moved up an hour, two couples were left in Quebec. We did not, however, leave them gape-mouthed on the dock. More's the pity. The ship waited as long as possible, which was not very, given the fact that we had to make it under the bridge before the tide came in, and then, the ship’s whistle echoing off the side of the hill, we waved a fond farewell to Quebec. Our own little sailaway was festive with the cookies and cider, and the beautifully setting sun. It was all in all, a perfect end to a great cruise.
During our last dinner aboard, sailing along the St. Lawrence, I was so happy the sun set enough to allow me to open the curtains and watch as Quebec disappeared over the horizon. It was a smooth night on the river, great for packing, and for sleeping. The next morning dawned and there we were, docked in Montreal with the sun rising through Habitat and the cruise had ended. the trip to the airport was uneventful, save seeing Tarp Guy in actual clothing, and the flight home, while delayed out of Montreal, got us to New Orleans early and after getting a quick dinner from the ohh-so-usual McDonald's, we headed to beds that we could still feel rocking with the motion of the journey.
We set out to show our parents a few interesting things we had learned on our tour the previous day and to head to the Funiculaire for another trip[ to Upper Town. One day I am going to brave the Escalier Casse-Cou, but I think I may brave it down rather than up. To me, it's much like the stairs at St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montreal – it’s a lovely idea to make the pilgrimage and go up the mountain on the stairs, but I am not ready to do it. And I am not sure I’ll ever be patient or penitent enough to take the pilgrimage to the Oratory on my knees. But I am thinking one day I will make up and down the Escalier Casse-Cou, probably the same trip I finally have a meal at Aux Anciens Canadiens, but those are adventures to save for another time. This time, we took the Funiculaire to the top and headed over to Place d’Armes to discuss our plan for the day. My brother and I both had souvenirs to buy and places to visit, and Mom and Dad just wanted to be out in the gorgeous spring weather. We split off at the Place d’Armes with reminders to make it back to the ship before sailway, which had been moved up and hour due to higher than usual tides, and the fact that the ship had to make it under a bridge to get to Montreal. We promised we would not miss sailaway, and to hold everyone to that, I decided to procure snacks for our personal sailaway festivities.
After my musings on preservation efforts, we headed off into Upper Town. We got some pictures and then came back to investigate the bottle shop at the Château Frontenac. We wanted to see what was to be had – it’s always interesting to see American wines as “imports” in bottle shops. It makes me remember that no matter what we thing, the United States of America is not the only country in the world. It’s a slice of humble pie more Americans should take a bite of more often. We saw wines, including some very delicious looking ice wine and cider – though I have only soft-sided luggage and could not pack home bottles of more than 3 ounces. And 3 ounces of ice wine is not enough to satisfy my desire for the yummy, sweet, smooth nectar. It may be true that ambrosia is the nectar of the Gods, but ice wine is the nectar of the Lynn. At the check-out counter, we found a small bottle of ice cider, similar to what we tasted the day before, large enough to share and still reasonably priced (which, truth be told, is my biggest hindrance to ice wine on a regular basis). We indulged in the small bottle for sailaway festivities.
Walking back from the Lush, and having had our appetites piqued by the maple sugary goodness on offer at the suiar shack, we decided we were ready for lunch, and while we hated to miss a stop at the “everything on a Belgian waffle” place we enjoy so much, we did not want to head back to Upper Town, so we walked along the cobblestone streets until we found a bistro that was calling to us. And I am so glad we did! Bistro du Cap was fantastic. It is the kind of place that can easily be overlooked by those faux-gourmands who think that nothing good can come from a place that looks less than perfect. Don’t let the looks of the place fool you. The menu appears to be two-fold – a section of always-available crêpes and sandwiches a section of ever-changing daily specials, based on what is fresh and good at the market that morning. We ordered some from both sections. I ordered a bowl of soup, which was supposed to be gazpacho, but ended up being cream of asparagus, a beautifully blended, rich, creamy soup with none of the woodiness I find common to asparagus. I followed the soup with smoked salmon crostini – thin slices of smoked salmon over an herbed cream cheese on crisp, crunchy baguette rounds. My brother had the cream of asparagus soup (his was always intended to be cream of asparagus) and the sautéed chicken liver salad. We each shared a bit of the others' main dish, and those sautéed chicken livers are definitely made it to the list of the top five best things I have ever eaten. After my foray into an unusual surf and turf heaven, we lingered over a fresh berry crêpe before heading back to the ship for sailaway.
While the idea of starting a new life in Quebec appeals to both of us, it was time to head back to the ship and back to our real lives. The delightful 15-day escape was coming to an end and it was time. I missed my home, my own bed, my cat, and my dearest. The adventures are always wonderful and exciting, but it is nice to get back to my routine and the never-mundane reality.
Sailaway was interesting. Despite numerous warnings, printed in the daily schedule, on huge, prominent signs at the gangway and security checkpoints, and announcements from the bridge, that the time for departure had been moved up an hour, two couples were left in Quebec. We did not, however, leave them gape-mouthed on the dock. More's the pity. The ship waited as long as possible, which was not very, given the fact that we had to make it under the bridge before the tide came in, and then, the ship’s whistle echoing off the side of the hill, we waved a fond farewell to Quebec. Our own little sailaway was festive with the cookies and cider, and the beautifully setting sun. It was all in all, a perfect end to a great cruise.
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