new year's eve headache

not from eating these.
but.
buying this package might have cost just over $500.

but.
don't ask me about this today.
big headache right now
a new year's eve headache.

maybe.
can talk about it in about two weeks.
maybe.

in the meantime, all else seems to be well.
and.
good things to you in the new year.


yes.
and to all.
a good night.

all I really want to do is...

knit knit knit.

But there are so many other things I could and should be doing....
like the next go-round of (neverending) purge and clean ...

'After the holidays' is a wonderful opportunity for streamlining and reorganization of stuhff...finding places to put all the new acquisitions, cycling out the outdated or worn-out items, straightening the messes from holiday parties, gifting, baking, hosting, what-ever.

I find that I've been tossing my clothes on the floor. Whassup wid dat?
First things first: pick them up, fold them and put them back in the proper place.

Moreover - because I have been feeling pretty overwhelmed in the 'people to see, places to be and things to do' department, it would behoove me to get into this (DollinkDaughter LLS and DollinkSon-In-Law DRF have me considering this approach to time and life management).

So.
Sigh.
Another season of Happy Christmas is over.
Clean-up is in order.

I trust you all had some merry happy time these last weeks...
More emotional highs than lows...
Lots of good things to eat...
Pleasant exchanges made .... of conversation, quality time and thoughtful gifts.

Onward.....and better planning for Holiday 2008?

1 + 1 + 1 +1

(1) 674 minutes of The Beatles Anthology on DVD = yeah yeah yeah
+
(1) marathon holiday knitting = productive!
+
(1) dreary rainy and cold outside and warm inside the house = cozy
+
(1) I'm not on the work sched today, have nowhere I really need to go, so I opted to stay in PJs and robe all day = comfy



A fine day indeed.

Zip!

I don't know how it happened, but another week and a half has flown by (ZIP!) without me getting to my blog posts.

For shame.

What can I say but Sorry!
Will be back in earnest sooooooooon.

xo
P.S. I've supplied a few time-filler links so that you have something interactive to toy with on today's blog...

Then.....and Now

Thanks so much to my friend, D - who linked me to this funny, not-so-funny, oh-so-true video...


Good golly gee but where the *&^%$#@!@?%$#??!!?%@%#! did the time go?

the sound of one hand slapping...

the other...
for I cannot seem to stop myself from buying more yarn.

Yarn Guilt:
The stash is already bursting out of the yarn storage boxes. I have many many (hellamany) yarn works-in-progress: Eight or nine ongoing knitted projects at present, but who's counting? (I do keep track, and it's downright embarrassing.)
I should knit them all up, and buy more only when those projects are completed. Holiday gift-giving time is here and that's where the funds should go. I should not click to purchase. I should walk away from the computer and slip the credit card back into my wallet. I should give myself a reality check.

Yarn Rationale:
There is so much potential in skeins, balls and hanks of new yarn! Wheeeeeee! Just thinking of all the future projects I could enjoy someday excites me so. Adding to the stash kinda sorta takes my mind off the holiday pressure(s) that are already mounting...

Final decision:
Hmmmmm.
If I order up nownownow, I might be able to whip out some fine hand-knitted holiday gifts...
Happy Holidays - to - me - and you?
The sound of both hands on the keyboard...Clickety click.

[image from nobleknits.com]

A CB Christmas

Just in case you missed it on TV tonight...



It's been YEARS since I've watched 'A Charlie Brown Christmas', and I'd almost forgotten how brilliant it really is.

The start of the season - before we succumb to societal, shopping, or other self-inflicted holiday pressure.

It's early - so enjoy.

Knitting waaaaaay outside of da box

Like me, HD makes the occasional perusal of newspaper obits to find out who has died.

Rather than focus on how sad it is when a life ends, I prefer to keep in mind that these people actually LIVED.

Newspaper in hand, and opened to the obits, HD asked me this morn if I'd ever heard of Mary Walker Phillips. 'She died recently. She knitted neat stuff. Do you know who she is?'.
I said no.
The obituary was titled: 'In Mary Walker Phillip's hands, knitting was art'. Apparently she was something of a knitting artiste.
I read the obit through and decided to post the subject to my blog.
(I can remember something much better (and longer) if I write a bit about it.)

Several Google links later, I realize that in fact, I do know of Mary Walker Phillips.
Phillips wrote one of the definitive books on macramé, which was published in 1970. Back then, those of us who found ourselves tangled in yards of cord and twine as we struggled with fashioning half-hitches and the like - referred to Phillip's macramé craft book as our knotting bible.

Besides macramé plant hangers, there is so much more to Miss Phillips and her involvement in tactile textile craftiness. She took all manner of natural and man-made material to the needles and created artwork. Talk about knitting outside-of-the-box!

Phillips' pieces can be found at the Museum of Modern Art, the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum and the Art Institute of Chicago.

A long life immersed in creativity.
Time well spent, I should think.

Let's talk turkey

On being bookish

You learn so much from books.
You also learn from livin'.
Start 'em young, I say.

Mozart . Bread . Butter

I'm having a very fine day...really I am.
It's lovely.
Very Fall-ish.
A might grey.
Overcast.
Temps are a tad on the cool side, but not enough to warrant wearing a jacket.
Not a hint of wind.

A fine day...to run errands, meet up with friends, do chores, post to the blog, be crafty, play Mozart's Requiem extra loud in the car whilst driving...
Before day is done, I will have accomplished all of these things.
Nice.

Morning errand run. Before heading home, I decided to stop at the supermarket to 'pick up a few things'.

I walked by the fresh bread aisle.
Caught a whiff.
The latest and greatest artisan bread offerings were fresh out of the oven.
Mmmmmmmmmmm - that irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread.
I approached the display and could feel the heat coming off those brown bags. I could not resist. I bought a loaf. Mind you, no one is home this weekend to share in the eating of this big ol' loaf of freshly baked DUTCH CRUST bread. It'll be me myself and nobody else. This I knew and yet I succumbed.

I rushed home (Requiem blasting), brought the bread in and didn't bother to bring in the rest of the groceries just yet. I cut a huge slice, slathered it with softened sweet butter, sat back and savoured it.
It was good. I mean good. As in sinfully good.
The bread is delicious, the butter enhanced the flavor.
Then I sliced another piece of bread and enjoyed it too.
I'm on my third slice now. Feeling a teensy bit of guilt.
By slice four, I will have deemed myself downright disgusting and half the loaf will still be there to tempt me further.
I will vacillate between pleasure and guilt.
Ah - such is life.
Such is Mozart, come to think of it.

A fine day indeed ~
Mozart.
Bread.
Butter.
Pleasure with a sprinkling of guilt.
It don't get much better than this.

I am sooooooooo hooked!

The last couple of years, I've been literally devouring these PBS shows:
1940's House
Manor House
Frontier House
Colonial House
1900 House
Texas Ranch House

With this kind of television programming* (and Ken Burns documentaries!!), I could easily be riveted, A La Couch Spud, to the TV.
I should really be thankful, then - that most television programming is c-r-a-p...
leaves me with some time for knitting (an altogether different addiction).

Yet to see:
Regency House Party


* Typical 'reality TV' fare this is not not not.

'Please sir, I want some more'

shake a leg

(If you speak any Cantonese at all, this kinda sorta related video is even more hilarious)

I wanted to be somewhat original with this post.
Then discovered that a few bloggers out there have already had their way with the topic I have in mind.
So much for originality (it's ALL been said or done, hasn't it?). Yet why not another go round, eh?

The subject?
Shaky leg syndrome.
I find the shaky leg topic rather intriguing, and invite your observations...

No, not this shaky leg syndrome.
Or this one.
These are serious physical afflictions which may require medical attention.

The shaky leg syndrome I'm speaking of here seems to affect many young men.
It's a semi-involuntary (?) muscle spasm of the leg when a guy is sitting.
Feet are on the ground, with the weight of one foot or both feet resting on the ball of the foot/ toes. The foot/feet rise and fall from the ball of the foot.
The rest of the leg bobs up and down. Not slow, but fast. Spastic-like.
For no apparent reason (?).

Slightly (and much older) males don't seem to display this shaking leg thing with the same frequency as teenage guys and younger (put your own connotation on 'younger', I won't touch that definition with a twisted, crusty stick) men.
The shaky leg phenomenon is not often displayed by little boys or girls, or by women.

The shaky leg syndrome can be coupled with another behaviour that young guys often practice: why it is they feel the need to hock so many loogies (go ahead, play the game on the link - it's really gross)?
I've also a theory on the loogie thing, which I refrain from sharing here - my opinion possibly straining at the (self-imposed) PG-13 rating bounds of this here blog...

So - back to shaking that leg - what up wid it?

Wow - does this preview ever look goooooood

YES!
I can hardly wait to see the film.

Postscript: saw the film, one word movie review: Ptui.

Surprise! Not. Grrrrrrr.....

Layer of berries on top look gooooood.
Layer of berries on bottom - AI YA!
Why always at least a half dozen berries fuzzy-moldy?!?!

Surprise! Not. Grrrrr......

It's alive! It's alive!

Blooming flower teas = a not-to-be-missed show!
If it works.

Not so long ago, DollinkDaughterLLS presented me with a beautiful bamboo box containing 8 blossoms of flowering tea.

Following the directions on the package for brewing, DDLLS and I got out the accouterments: glass teapot, Asian teacups, delicate little tea snacks. We gently positioned a ball of tea at the bottom of the glass vessel. We slowly filled the pot with boiling water. With great anticipation, we sat back and waited for the tea ball to unfurl and open grandly into a magnificent blooming flower. We eagerly awaited the magic. And waited. And waited.

Expecting major blooming, we got some half-ass'd action instead.
15 minutes later, the semi-opened remnant of the tea ball sat rather forlornly at the bottom of the pot.

Hmmmmmm, we remarked to each other.
What might have gone awry? Water not hot enough? It did reach boiling....
Dud tea ball? It's quite likely.
We may never know.

Very little stops the ladies in this family from a good time.
Even if the blooming tea is bloomin' uncooperative.
DDLLS and I made ceremony of drinking the brew anyway, and it was lovely.

Blooming flower tea really does make tea time extra special.
I recall many a dim sum Chinatown lunch in which I partook (as a kid) when a pot of fragrant floral tea was served with the delicacies. Back then, all Chinese restaurant teapots were ceramic, so one had to lift the heavy lid to peek into the dark pot at the bloomed flowers. Not as ceremonious as watching a flowering tea in active bloom in glass teapot, yet everyone at the table who gazed upon the plump, aromatic white petals would elicit the proper oooooohs and ahhhhhhhhs ...

What a pleasure when taking tea is entertaining as well as refreshing.
As for home-brewed blooming flower tea: DD, we must to try again.

A sailing we will go...

Two Years Before the Mast
~ by Richard Henry Dana, Jr.














If someone told me a decade ago that a book about a young-man-coming-of-age-via-his-two -year-adventure-on-board-sailing -ships-in-the-1800's-written-in-detailed-narrative-form would be of any interest to me, I would have - at the very least...scoffed.

Go figure.

I love this book.
I'm only halfway through Richard Henry Dana Jr.'s personal narrative, and I've already ear-marked it as a 'must re-read to learn more' book.

You can read it online here or here or here and at numerous other sites (entire books online - isn't that something?!?).

Better yet, pick up a hard copy at your local library to hold in your hands, curl up with in your favorite chair and leisurely peruse chapter by chapter.

The very best approach would be to purchase the book for the at-home library. Then you have the luxury to savor it...slowly... time and again...

Kissed by a llama

Yesterday I was kissed by a llama.
Well, not actually kissed.
Rather, greeted.

Typical llama greeting:
Nose to nose - followed by a gentle breathing out into the 'greetee's' face, ear, hair.

Pretty darned neat-o.

the smile

now you see it...


now you don't...

rainy day bluez

Take me HOME!!

A fishy story

Ah, fish.
I grew up eating fresh striped bass, rock cod, sand dabs, flounder et cetera.

My family prepared fish in the simplest fashion, steamed and/or fried. Cantonese-style cooking, with accompanying sauces that were light - a bit of soy, ginger and peanut oil infused with ginger and garlic. Garnished with Chinese parsley, shavings of ginger root and slivers of green onion.
Sometimes Dad would prepare a tomato sauce'd version, with fresh tomatoes, yellow and green onions and sweet red and green peppers - sautéed together, then reduced to a fragrant, piquant sauce for over top of a perfectly cooked whole fish.
Delicious.

Dad usually bought fish (along with other fresh groceries) during his daily forays to Chinatown, though he often cast his fishing hook, line and sinker into San Francisco Bay during a striped bass run...

Dad taught me how to scale, gut and clean fish, a handy skill - considering how much fresh fish we consumed. When he caught one or more mongo-sized bass which didn't fit into the kitchen sink, he and I would spread thick layers of newspaper over the kitchen floor to clean them.
A fond memory: Dad and his young daughter on the kitchen floor - wrestling with the cleaning of huge stripers..fish scales a-flyin'....fish guts a-spillin'...

The man didn't settle for anything less than the freshest when it came to all food, particularly fish. If not his own catch, he'd get them at the fishmonger's in Chinatown, often netted live from the holding tanks right there in the shop.

Fish was on the dinner table at least twice a week. For the evening repast, a whole steamed fish or fillet of sand dabs (in black bean sauce) was served 'family-style' alongside a variety of other dishes.

Then -
fish in a whole new form entered our eating repertoire.
They came in a box and were small rectangular shaped bites of fish.
Fish sticks: Mrs. Paul's or Gorton's.

My fam-of-origin found fish sticks to be a most intriguing food:- pre-formed cooked fish meat. Breaded, fried, frozen and packaged. Ready for a quick re-heat in frying pan or oven.

We actually enjoyed eating fish sticks.
Mom and I ate them for lunch. My brothers and I had them for after school snack, liberally soused with catsup or dipped in a bit of Dad's homemade tartar sauce. Dad was a chef by profession, and went through the trouble of making fresh tartar sauce for a mealy snack of frozen fish sticks...I suppose he felt it necessary to provide something homemade to eat as the rest of us indulged in our fishy fast food fad (it must be mentioned here that Dad didn't partake much of fish sticks).

After a pre-fab fish snack, the lot of us would sit down to dinner, ready to descend with chopsticks-in-hand upon a delectable entreé of fresh fish ~ cooked to tasty, tender and delicate perfection...
topping off our bellies with the real deal.

If in doubt...

...toss it out.

My mantra for today as I clean, reorganize, purge (OMG the endless purge) stuff in the 'laundry area'.

Besides the odd n' end house cleaning products, assorted yucky plastic cups to measure this and that, suspiciously old and useless fabric softeners, etc.....
I came across my 'collection' of candles.

Keep in mind that my mood is not the cheeriest today* as I ask the musical question:

What for - all these miscellaneous votives /candles?
Why keep so many when I only ever so infrequently burn the occasional candle?
At this writing, the large number of votives & candles I have (most as gifts from other people) seem superfluous to my life.
Today they are actually pissing me off.
(*I just paid bills, so am in a pissy mood anyway).

So - candles and votives.
If in doubt. toss it out.
The stinky candles.
The partially-burnt candles.
The faded candles.
The OOOG-LY candles.
The OOOG-LY-ER votives.

Burn 'em or toss 'em or give 'em away.
Simplify.
K.I.S.S.

Goodbye.

imagine

DollinkGreatGrandma and DollinkGreatGranddaughter

Awwwwwwwwwww.........

Ashokan Farewell

Ashokan Farewell.
A lovely piece of music that pulls at your heartstrings...

Written by Jay Ungar in 1982, at the end of a memorable gathering of fiddlers and dancers.
Ungar has called his composition "a Scottish lament written by a Jewish guy from the Bronx."

What's not to love?

Bacon Hot Dogs

Aforementioned DollinkDaughterLLS told us she came upon two street food vendor dudes with a sidewalk cart in San Francisco, making and selling bacon hot dogs.

Since she mentioned it, I haven't stopped salivating over the vision of a 'good quality' hot dog, wrapped in a slice of bacon and grilled to perfection...

I'm definitely planning to make this at home sometime soooooooooooon!
So good and yet so very bad.

egrets

Yesterday, en route home from Baghdad By the Bay, I spotted, right off the highway - a large flock of egrets. The birds were wading in the shallow wetlands approaching Sacramento. Egret sighting is not uncommon, yet somehow it's always a bit startling (to me) to come upon these birds in their natural habitat.

I'm always impressed by the stark contrast of an egret's sharp white outline against the muted browns and grays of the slough or lagoon waters where they're often found fishing. In settings such as these, the birds appear to be white cardboard cut-out shapes...

Just about thirty years ago (no, HolyMoly, could it really be 30!?!) HD, DollinkDaughterLLS and I resided on the edge of the Marina Lagoon. That was when we 'lived amongst egrets'.

We could walk out the backyard gate or take a look from our (second story bedroom) window and see the big snowy white birds cavorting, alongside quick moving little black coots in the lagoon/on the shore some yards from our fence.

The fishing was fine, and in addition to egrets and coots, various other shorebirds frequented the lagoon as well.
Pelicans and seagulls circled above, keeping a keen eye on the surface of the water. Sand crabs would inadvertently make their way onto the shallow sand bar, and the birds would swoop down and tuck into a meal.

Much educational fun was had by DollinkDaughterLLS and her parents when they lived in this area and learned a bit about Bay Area flora and fauna. DDLLS loved taking walks along the lagoon and searching for tiny crabs on the shoreline...

Ah - you gotta give it up for the cheap thrills.
With this brief shorebird sighting, how totally engrossed (and easily entertained) I could become with fond thoughts of good times past...

Life really is all about the making of little memorable moments, isn't it?

Mah Jong tiles

The game of Mah-Jongg ('mah-jeurk') looms large in the legend of my family-of-origin.

To me, playing Mah-Jongg means continuing the family tradition!
A good thing.

Mah-Jongg tiles have a bit of weight in the hand and smooth to the touch. The tiles are also pretty to look at.
I love to handle MJ tiles and enjoy the 'click' sound when they are tapped gently together .

As a kid, I slept for a time in the dining-room-converted-into-a-bedroom, right off the kitchen. At least once a week, Mom, Dad and PauPau (grandma) would be joined by relatives and friends to play hours of MJ. The round oak dining table in the kitchen would be pushed aside to make way for the official MJ table, which was set up in the middle of the room. That soothing click of the tiles (along with the chatter and laughter of family and friends) lulled me to sleep as they played into the night...

Though there is some degree of enjoyment to be found playing with Mah-Jong tiles in this manner, it just isn't quite the same as the tactile feel of those real deal tiles.

All you chronically addicted MJ players out there - check this crazy thing out.
How's that for novel/fast/easy/convenient?
Yet - somehow, this fancy new contraption isn't as satisfying as manually shuffling (aka 'sai pai' aka 'washing') and setting up the tiles to form the walls...

Call me old-fashioned when I state: Don't fix what ain't broke.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!

AKA 'the Battle Hymn of the Republic'.

You ain't heard nothin' until you've heard this sung A capella by the Abyssinian Baptist Church Sanctuary Choir.
Talk about ROUSING.

For the last two days, I've been listening to their rendition on Ken Burn's 'The Civil War' soundtrack.
On RPT, of course.

A fond memory I have from junior high was singing in the school chorus. Because my voice has never been particularly tuneful, I can only hope that my enthusiasm in participating made up a bit for whatever I lacked in musicality or tone.

No matter.
Chorus was all about group dynamics and feeble attempts by disparate teenage voices to achieve some level of believable harmony. Chorus was also about standing on those cool risers.

Music instructor Mrs. Dobrinen (bless her sweet n' sincere heart) did her best to whip us wannabe singers into some musical shape. She taught us many songs - including several stanzas of 'Battle Hymn', which we ended up singing to student body/staff at a school assembly. Due in large part to our teacher's upbeat, encouraging attitude - our little school chorus always managed to pull it off. We sounded pretty damn gooooood.
At least, we thought so.

Since those humble and awkward musical vocalizations, I've always loved to sing and have an affection for Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! as well as numerous other catchy tunes learned in chorus class...

'What a day this has been, what a rare mood I'm in - why it's - almost like being in love.
There's a smile on my face for the whole human race, why it's- almost like being in love.
All the music of life seems to be - like a bell that is ringing - for me'.

Hearing Glory! Glory! sung so flawlessly by the Abyssinian Baptist choir is absolutely uplifting. Isn't it lovely how music can do that?
By the time the choir arrives at my favourite line - '....be jubilant, my feet' I'm belting it out (at full volume) alongside the Baptist choir.
(as a 12 year old, I was fascinated by the rather unorthodox combination of the words jubilant and feet. I also very much liked 'They have buil-ded' Him an altar..')

Warning: stay out of earshot.
(Or)
Better yet, sing along.
C'mon - let's make a joyful noise. I won't mind you if you don't mind me.

Rinse and soak (please)!

It should be a no-brainer, but...

How to (hand) wash dishes (or) prep them for the automatic dishwasher.

RINSE!* food bits off.
SOAK! - especially those with egg yolk on them.

* I often preface the rinse with
WIPE!
Use a paper towel to wipe up the grease/remaining sauce in a pan/plate before even taking it to the sink for the rinse. Toss the paper towel into the kitchen trash. Saves on rinsing water and all that goopy food residue going down the drain. Then soak.

Performing all of the above beforehand makes for such an easier time 'doing' the dishes...

SOS - Wardrobe Dilemma!

For (some of us) Middle Aged Mamas (over 40??!!??)(whaddabout over 50?!??!!?) knowing what to - and what not to - wear can be perplexing.

Today's fashions are geared towards the younger set (oooh, was that really me speaking from the older perspective?!) and seem to leave us middle-year gals high n' dry when it comes to pretty, well-fitting choices for our wardrobe.
Clothes we can feel and look GOOD in.
Is it still possible to feel and look GOOD? I think so.

Let's ruminate on this a bit.
Beginning with what not to wear, a determination which is a tad easier to arrive at than what to wear.
Any garment, outfit, print, cut and/or color that somehow does not 'feel right' falls under the category of What Not to Wear. When it comes to my recent clothing choices (the last 10 years or so!), very little feels right anymore.
Should I become the least bit delusional about that, making a selection I think might be mighty fine - all it takes is one glance in the mirror for the jaw-dropping reality check. The image therein too often screams back 'OMG - NO NO NO!'

What to wear?
Pantsuits seem to be the calling card of the mid-aged woman. Available fashions seem to dictate this.
Jeans. Slacks. Capri pants. Palazzos (remember those?).
I've never ever liked wearing pants. They were always either too tight on my waist or hit me in all the wrong places at the tummy/hipline. Length is never right. Moreover, pants often pinch me at the crotch, which is not altogether a big whoop anymore either.
Ahem.

In regard to jeans, I will opt for a pair of loose-fitting Levi's.
For me, jeans are utilitarian, not fashion. Anyway, I like the feel of sliding right outta a pair of loose 501's at the end of a day.

Anecdote: I was traumatized once when sharing a hotel room with a work colleague - as I watched her stuffing her ample self into a pair of too-small stretch Gloria Vanderbilts jeans. Sausage-time Mama!
If I can someday get past that nightmarish image and find a pair of fitted comfy jeans made for over-40's gals, I might consider having two pair: one loose and one fitted.

If pants fit fine in the morning, by mid-day (and after a few glasses of the daily recommended allowance of water for good health) they start to feel snug. By dinnertime, one wonders how those very same pants which fit reasonably well in the morning have gotten so unbelievably uncomfortable.

I much prefer skirts, and they get my vote to solve the bottom half of the wardrobe dilemma.
But what length? What fullness? What type of waistband?
I ain't quite ready to go the full-tilt elastic waist route yet.
Elastic bunches up too much and what is worn as a top has to be 'just right' in order not to look - dumpy.
I may be at the age, but am not yet prime fodder for matronly.

Now what to wear on the legs? Tights? Panty hose? Knee socks?
Tights and panty hose have elastic waists. Knee socks slip down or just look way stupid on women my age.

What style shoes? What height should the heels be? Thick and clompy, high and pointy? Flat? What of boots?
Go for shoes that are styled for comfort or fashion?

Tops - sleeveless (this is getting harder to pull off too, what with flippy flappy upper arms); short cap sleeves (better); three quarter or long sleeves (sometimes too much fabric when hot-flashing).

I like dresses most of all - but what styles compliment this poor olde bod anymore?

Layers?
I cannot abide by dressing in layers. Too much fabric going this way and that to contend with.

Mid-aged women can certainly overkill on Chico's (do they really think wild animal prints become de rigueur once a woman is over 40?!?).

Eileen Fisher = waaaaay too much knit fabric?

Ellen Tracy - a bit too severe? - and just look at all that yardage - much of it tailored and layered.

Coldwater Creek? (what's with all the blazers, anyway?).

J. Jill? (pick and choose a few that have some character?).

Chadwicks? (pretty tame, but maybe that's what I need?)(too tailored?)

Hmmmmmm.
A bit from here and there might be OK.
A little more of it could become too much the wardrobe of a Median-Income-Conservative-(White)Woman-
In-The-Republican-Rural-Suburbs-Goes
-To-Church-On-Sunday-ish.
Which is not a bad thing. It just ain't me.

Aha (lightbulb over the head just blinked on)!
Howza 'bout wearable art? Now that could be FUN...
By artwear, I'm not thinking Blue Fish.

Or...
Perhaps the answer is to move to the tropics and slip into something island-style?
Lightweight sundresses in island floral prints, bare legs, zoris on the feet!

What to do what to do.
Ai ya.
Solving the Wardrobe Dilemma is going to be one major project, awright.

A little molasses, a bit of mud...

Jimmy Lee Sudduth died last week.
He lived in Alabama for 97 years.
He was a painter.
He played the harmonica.
Was a husband, father, friend.
Loved his dogs - he had many dogs over the years - all named Toto.

People who create art are invariably categorized into a genre, and Sudduth's, for all intent and purposes - was Folk Art.

His medium: homemade paints: mixtures of mud, axle grease, soot, sugar, coffee grounds, molasses, honey, Coca-Cola, sorghum, plants, berries...
In his later years, Sudduth favored acrylic paint.

Choice of application: his fingers.

Jimmy (aka Jimmie) Sudduth has been cranking out paintings (sometimes 6 a day!) for decades, and I was not aware of this artist/ his work today.

Thank goodness for the obits.

Seeing. Listening. LEARNING

Artist rendering from: http://www.tfaoi.com/newsm1/n1m299.htm

The other day, I spent six hours (!) in the Heard Museum, (downtown Phoenix).
Here are just a few of the many many many fascinating things I learned there about Southwestern Indian tribes:

Arizona: so much more than just a desert.

American Indian vs. Native American.

Pueblo and reservation etiquette.

Hopi katsina (seems there is no 'ch' sound in the Hopi language).

Blue corn piki.

Ocotillo fence.

Mesquite.

'Squash blossom' necklace.

Native American symbolism in art/craft.

American Indian boarding schools.

Kit Carson's role in the move of the Navajo to Bosque Redondo.

The importance of storytelling to the American Indian.

B.I.A.

Life is full of new places to go, exciting new things to do, great new people to meet.
Why waste time 'going shopping' when
there are such riches to be acquired by seeing, listening (as well as asking a few questions and exchanging ideas) and LEARNING...

Moved even further up my list of 'Places to visit in this lifetime': NMAI.

Shredder Madness

It's inevitable, isn't it - to get gifted with the occasional super practical item for anniversary or other such celebration (i.e.: Mom gets a toaster instead of pearls for Christmas).

Not altogether a bad thing. Just - well - unromantic.

There have been many a time when I've put Oh-So-Practical gifts at the top of my wish lists.
For example, I requested and received a Shop-Vac for Christmas one year. It's always a bit of a surprise to actually receive one of these useful presents, but in the long run - they outlast some of those other, cuter 'boutique items'.

This year for my birthday, along with the fun, and/or beautiful presents - I was given a set-it-over-top-of-the-trash-can type paper shredder.

Uh.....Well...OK...

I used it for the first time last night.

I was fascinated at how the apparatus grabs the papers into its teeth from the top end, grinding through the sheets with a high or low pitched whine (depending on how thick the paper or how many sheets at a time), finally spitting out the linear rejects from the bottom end. At lightning speed!
Sounds like a horror movie, does it not?

Talk about cheap thrills - I LUV it!
It is high entertainment!
I giddily shredded papers from Ye Olde Filing Cabinet until the shredder overheated and a big plastic garbage bag was full to the bursting. Still, I searched round frantically for more to feed my new, voracious toy...

In my (typical) overzealous way I found out the hard way - that a
hard-working shredder needs a bit of a cool-down break after a particularly strenuous shredding session. Once it is allowed to rest (and ceases emitting smoke), Shredder Madness can continue.

Oh What Fun.

P.S. Brings to mind the scene in 'Jumpin' Jack Flash' where Whoopi's dress gets caught in the BIG paper shredder. Hilarious. I tried, but failed - to find a youtube video...

Instant tears

Multi-tasking

Sighted earlier this evening:
A man carrying a large bag of groceries in each hand as he headed down the frontage road.

A hot day - still hovering near mid-90º at 7:00 PM.

The guy moseyed along, nowhere near any houses. I could imagine him schlepping those heavy bags quite a bit further towards home, reaching his destination, finally being able to set those weighty heifers down on the kitchen counter and breathing out a mighty 'phew'.

Just another tough day at the office, then off to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.

On his unicycle.

Now -
that's stylin'!

I need this

It's a masala dabba.

All this talk about getting rid of 'stuff', but OMG - do I need one of these or what?!?

For quite some time now, I've been considering adding dishes from East Indian cuisine to my cooking repertoire.

The flavors and aromas of Indian food are toothsome, but I'm a wimp when it comes to intense heat (from peppers and the like). Mild is good, lips and tongue burning is not. Can't handle it.

Sans heat, I'm eager to sample more Indian food and to take note of the regional differences. It ain't just about spicy hot curries. The enchanting aromas of Indian food has much to do with a variety of fragrant, delectable sauces and the combinations of fantastic spices that go into creating them.

What better place to keep an assortment of ambrosial Indian spices than in one's very own masala dabba?

I'm willing to purge my kitchen of several little-used items to justify adding this handy little spice holder...
Should I or shouldn't I?

Taking inventory

Regarding personal belongings, home decor and lifestyle: many of you know I've been ceaselessly working on simplification of/ re-organization of STUFF. Besides 'fall cleaning' of the home environment, the ultimate goal here is for a healthier happier lifestyle.
Not too shabby a goal, eh whot?

My intentions are sincere and efforts commendable. However, the occasional reality-check-moment reveals that it is unlikely I'll ever achieve the simplicity of my fantasies.

I find a fair amount of organized clutter rather soothing. Looking around at clean (not boring) unobstructed lines in a room is something I can appreciate. So is the joy derived from viewing my belongings (arranged in pleasing-to-gaze-upon vignettes, of course). Singularly or combined, a few of my favourite things (obvious link, but I could not resist) contributes to validating my essence - moreover, defines HOME.

No doubt you've seen DIY Home Improvement shows where a house is 'staged' to be sold. The decor is simplified to the point of losing all personality of the current home dwellers. Hide the photographs, ditto with personal mementos and chotkes. Display fewer dishes in the kitchen cabinets, clean out some food so your larder doesn't looked crammed. Arrange clothes in the closet to make the space look larger. Pick up the dirty laundry, get rid of the kitty litter box (better yet, farm the pets out for the duration!). The place ends up looking like a stripped down hotel or model home. All the better for potential buyers to imagine themselves living there.
But not for day-to-day living.

My mantra is Keep the Personality, but Lose Some of the Clutter.
In the home as well as relationships, I reckon.
Fingers crossed.

Two more difficult to define concepts that are new to me: shibui and iki. Both are applicable to aesthetics, but are actually more descriptive of a way of being.

Ah - so very Zen...that it hurts my poor feeble brain.
It's madness, energy depleting and ultimately futile , but I will continue to strive for A Tad Less is a Lot More.

Tomorrow I will tackle purging my socks/pantyhose. Baby steps to a larger ideal. After I move the colored tights to the Goodwill bag, I'll start working on streamlining my relationships. Whatever that might mean.

Wish me luck. This could take years.

Are we having fun yet?
YES.

Get back

It's time.
For me to get back to some serious art-making, crafting, painting, cooking, reading et cetera.

Hopefully, all the recent effort put into home reorganization will fire up the creative muse.

Taking inventory of art supplies, perusing files of 'inspirational ideas' clipped from magazines, cleaning out kitchen cabinets (again!) and sorting through exciting titles in the home library. Paring down and looking at all the raw materials before me may help with settling firmly into a Just Do It Groove...

As summer slides towards autumn, I am awash with the urge to cozy down, make plans, reach for new goals and re-energize.
I want to be more productive in the forthcoming months.

Spend quality time with people I enjoy.
Nurture my existing relationships and cultivate new ones.

Keep an open mind towards learning, create positive experiences, share my enthusiasm, do a lot of joyous laughing.

Also - take time for quiet introspection.

Curb my biatchyness (just a bit, for I am largely defined by it. Perhaps I will biatch
with more aplomb and less vindictiveness...yes yes...a worthwhile goal...).

Get back to working at being a better me.

Rock Bottom

I'm hitting rock bottom with this post - which is about the most taboo of all blog topics: 'What I ate for breakfast'.
All authors of personal blogs know that there is no one, absolutely no one who is interested in, or will be remotely enlightened by - what you ate for breakfast.
(though we must understand that for all intent and purposes, b's blog is ultimately a journal written for me myself and nobody else...
yeah, right).

Yet here it is.
Call it an initiation. Rite-of-passage. Moment of morning madness.
Writing about what I had for breakfast was bound to happen sooner or later in my blogging, so why not with this morning's repast?

Let's get it over with, then.

Today's breakfast deviated from my norm:
a serving of 'old-fashioned' rolled oats (steel cut takes waaaaay too long to cook, and I can never remember the soaking overnight bit). I microwave one serving with the appropriate amount of water for 5 minutes on 8Power, add a spoonful of Splenda, mix in generous (some might say a whopping) handful of dried cranberries followed by a splash of Lactaid.
That final addition of milk renders the otherwise thick wallpaper paste consistency of cooked oatmeal palatable.

To my dismay, there was nary a drop of Lactaid to be had in the house. I discovered in the kitchen trash evidence of the empty milk carton where HD had deposited it a few hours before after completing his breakfast ritual (cold cereal and milk).

However, there was (this I haven't purchased in decades, literally - decades) a container of chocolate milk*.
Regarding my oatmeal dilemma, I sez to myself, I sez ~ Why the hell not?
To my bowl of cooked oats, I added a goodly amount of choc milk. Mixed it up. Tossed a wee pat of butter on top for good luck.

I et of it, but ain't doin' that one a'gin.
Review of breakfast improvisation #1 = Too sweet, too brown and something about that hint of chocolate was just not right.

As a kid, I remember eating Cocoa Puffs and feeling the same way...
Concept good, actual taste = kinda yucky.

* Why chocolate milk? DollinkDaughterJrS visited the other day. She had a hankering for chocolate milk , which brought up my occasional hankering for it and a quick stop at the mart was in order.

P.S. Damn. The chocolate milk wasn't as delicious as how my taste buds remembered either.
Funny how that happens, isn't it?

Brilliant Brassy Broads

I am in awe of so many women.
Not only for the 'sisters' they often prove to be, but as kindred spirits of the female-touch-my-soul variety.

I adore straightforward women.

Smart women.

Insightful women.

Colorful artsy outrageously expressive women.

Rugged women with tough, calloused hard-working hands and hearts of filigree gold.

Adventurous women who follow their passion.

Elegant sophisticated women who appear delicate but get their way (and the men who love them).

Women with high self-esteem and low braggadocio.

Women who deliver their wit via a keen 'urban' sense of humour.

Tell-it-like-it-is women.

Self-assured gals who live fully, write lyrically and laugh out loud (and often).

Tortured women.

What brings this to mind is a recent NPR article about the passing of American short story writer Grace Paley. Until the obit, I'd not had the pleasure of knowing of her life or work. Now I will be sure to investigate both.

Alas, the cast of characters is far too numerous to list...so I leave you with....
Huzzah! Huzzah! for Brilliant Brassy Broads!

Who the #$&% Is Jackson Pollock?

Real people/real possibilities vs. The Art Realm.

Money? Fame?
Principle (Horton)?
%*#1?@load of affectation (art dealers)?

See this documentary. You'll laugh. You'll cry.

And Pollock's gotta be rolling in his grave.

One word movie review: Revealing

Image from: http://www.birofineartrestoration.com/Pollock/Pollock.htm

Moving is such a sobering experience...AKA Song of STUFF

...because it forces you to realize just how much STUFF has to be packed up and taken to the next place. No duh, right?

Last week DollinkDaughterLLS packed up her and DollinkSonInLawDRF's apartment to make such a move.

DDLLS is not a packrat.
She's not one to keep things beyond their 'use by' dates (dates which are sometimes based on practicality, other times, sentimentality).
DDLLS is constantly purging belongings, and her ability to do so has always been an inspiration to someone like myself, who tends to keep far too many things for far too long and for all the wrong reasons.

Save for a vast library of wonderful art/design books and quite a fashionable array of beautiful/cute shoes, DDLLS' lifestyle keeps to a minimalist approach.

Yet there was still quite a bit of STUFF to pack before the movers arrived. This, the STUFF of every aspect of daily living.
Here, there and every which where that things could be stored - there they were. Useful stuff. Aesthetically pleasing stuff. Valuable stuff. Sentimental keepsake stuff.
Under, over and in each available nook and cranny of their apartment was - more STUFF.
As her packing assistant, I bear witness.

What of STUFF, then?
I've been doing a fair amount of purging STUFF this year, so for me, expounding on HAVING TOO MUCH STUFF is always a front-burner topic.

As a consumer culture, most of us have no problem seeking out and then acquiring more NEW STUFF every day, week, month. We're in the same proverbial sinking boat, weighed down with our individual/combined abundance. Acquiring is in our hunter-gatherer blood. Instinctual behaviours aside, acquisition of things to improve or facilitate our everyday living has surely gone beyond survival, and gotten the best of us, has it not?
We end up with so much that it soon feels like our STUFF possesses us.

We NEED most of it, don't we? Is it simply a matter of STUFF Management, then?

I did a major purge of my household belongings a few months ago.
Actually, the task is an ongoing one, and yes, it's a constant battle.
(How very telling that a military term is apropos...)

Today I was in the master bedroom closet again - going through wardrobe/accessories once more. I got rid of 2 more handbags. Hallelujah. Still have 13. Why can't I get by with just 2 or 3?!? Sifted through my shoes again - chose 2 pair for the 'to go' pile. Those shoes hurt my feet after less than an hour walking in them. Move 'em on.
(I won't confess to how many shoes remain...)

Going through the purses, I happened to glance over at my remaining stackS of tee shirts. Even after the last purge = still waaaaay too many. Why DO I feel the need to own 8 black tee shirts that look almost identical?!? I finally pulled out the stained one with the little pin holes from getting snagged on LordKnowsWhat and trashed it. A tough decision (why?!?), but I did it.
Less one black tee.
Ah.
Onward.

What an endless vicious crazy cycle/ lifestyle.

Dig this article on SDA (Senseless Desire to Acquire).
Here's another good one.

STUFF is good.
TMS (Too Much Stuff) is not so good.

Definitely FFT (Food For Thought).

It's finally happened!

Since the beginning of this month, due to an increased social/life schedule, I have been forced to seek out easy-to-consume, convenient 'meals' now and again. In doing so, it seems that I may be well on my way to developing a bona fide franchise food/drink addiction!

Does having four (count 'em, four!) sixteen oz. size Jamba Juice concoctions (not including 'Secret Menu' items) in the course of one week's time qualify me as a regular, foaming at the mouth addicted customer?

The question is - shall I rejoice because I'm now officially OneWithTheMasses (who indulge and overindulge in franchise offerings), or do I stop to reconsider (the consequences of denting the food budget and all the possibly empty calories added to my diet), then commit myself to a 12-step program?

FYI: Though my preference is home-made smoothies, JJ is way too convenient and requires absolutely no dishwashing on my part...
P.S.: Anything with mango...

Down side of frequenting Jamba = it's often crowded and too dang noisy in those places.

azimuth

Image of Mars from: www.lesia.obspm.fr/~pallier/Mars_10_08.jpg

Last week, a friend (group) sent the following to me. Apparently, this is making the e-mail rounds, and is something of an internet/web hoax.
No matter.
The forwarded info was worth a quick perusal so that I might discover the word: 'azimuth'.

The Red Planet is about to be spectacular! This month and next, Earth is catching up with Mars in an encounter that will culminate in the closest approach between the two planets in recorded history. The next time Mars may come this close is in 2287. Due to the way Jupiter's gravity tugs on Mars and perturbs its orbit, astronomers can only be certain that Mars has not come this close to Earth in the Last 5,000 years, but it may be as long as 60,000 years before it happens again. The encounter will culminate on August 27th when Mars comes to within 34,649,589 miles of Earth and will be (next to the moon) the brightest object in the night sky. It will attain a magnitude of -2.9 and will appear 25.11 arc seconds wide. At a modest 75-power magnification Mars will look as large as the full moon to the naked eye . Mars will be easy to spot. At the beginning of August it will rise in the east at 10 p.m. and reach its azimuth at about 3 a.m. By the end of August when the two planets are closest, Mars will rise at nightfall and reach its highest point in the sky at 12:30a.m.That's pretty convenient to see something that no human being has seen in recorded history. So, mark your calendar at the beginning of August to see Mars grow progressively brighter and brighter throughout the month. Share this with your children and grandchildren.
NO ONE ALIVE TODAY WILL EVER SEE THIS AGAIN

Along with 'azimuth', that last statement is also wonderfully sensational, don't you think? Makes you go 'Oooooooooooh!!'. It doesn't take much for Little Ms. Gullible Yours Truly to ponder it to the point of wondering if I should ready myself for some serious night sky observation this month...
Hmmmmmmmm.

It must be said that it only takes 10 minutes into watching a home shopping channel or infomercial spiel to convince me that I:
* Cannot live without the item featured.
* Therefore must have it must buy it.

Just 10 minutes. That's pretty scary.
Time and time again, I will myself to switch channels or turn off the TV before the 11th minute. If not - by the 12th, there's a good chance I will have located my credit card to place an order.

No worries.
I've only ever made an infomercial purchase once. It was for five LP records of the Greatest Hits of Motown. Happily pleased with my purchase, I still have the record set.

I no longer watch much commercial television.
I fail to fall easy prey to internet hoaxes.
If it's too good to be true, I suspect urban myth.
Will always be a bit intrigued, of course...

Anyways, why bother with all that when I can amuse myself for minutes on end with a groovy word like azimuth?

growing up too dang fast

No, I'm not talking about DollinkGranddaughterLB this time. Though she is growing and changing day-by-day...one week old today...Well, more on that sweet l'il gal later...

It's China.
Too much too soon too fast.

Lite side: an entertaining example of this country's amazing growth is this movie-studio-set-theme-park, serving industry as well as tourism.
Sign of the times.

Not all is amusing about rapid growth, however.

Not so lite side: from most reports, it seems China can barely keep up with itself and the impact 'growth and prosperity' is having on its future generations (and the rest of the world).

I often kid my fellow shoppers when I remark that the majority of products lining the shelves of our stores were made by 'my brothers and sisters and cousins (and by their children) in China'.

We get the goods.
You can bet the mark-up is plenty high.
Big bucks are made by big businesses on both sides of the pond via their big business dealings. To get stuff from there to here requires quite a few middlemen...and everyone gets their take.

The ones who actually manufacture all that we need to sustain our affluent lifestyles are folks who now have work to earn money to get food on their tables, keep roofs over their heads. Some of the more fortunate are now able to purchase the new technics, buy fancy cars, outfit their brand new homes with all the latest amenities.
They're fast becoming immersed in the big C.
Imagine kids who never before owned or played with a fancy factory manufactured toy... let loose in a Toys R Us..

Gee, those guys are becoming - kinda sorta - just like us guys.
Sure looks to be that they're adopting our Consumer values like an exciting new religion.
Wonderful, innit?
N-O-T.

A couple decades ago their lifestyle (albeit politically oppressed)(who says capitalism isn't also oppressive in its own way?) may have been simpler. Communal living. Little to no emphasis on the individual. A uniform of simple cotton clothing. One speed bicycles for transportation. Small family units within larger village units.
Knowing and trusting your neighbours. Eating more garden grown veggies than McDonald's cheeseburgers. Lack of indoor plumbing. Unpaved roads.

Yet on a Quality-of-Life level, perhaps it was a far richer lifestyle.
Of course, it would be near impossible to find anyone admitting to Q of L being better then than now.
For all intent and purposes, they are (finally) living the high life, as we in the 'more developed' parts of the world have defined it. Their mantra: Out with the Old, In with the New.
(Danger danger Will Robinson)

The dark side: A tragic news story came out this week that may well typify the too dang fast theory...cutting corners to increase profit margin.
Did somebody mention 'greed'?
Doesn't wanting to get more by providing less - long been standard practice of greed-based commerce and trade? Is there commerce and trade sans greed?

China in the fast track.
What price modernization?