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?

move over, knitting obsession

For months, I've been obsessed with knitting.
This week - whaaaazup wid da knitting?

A new obsession has overtaken me. My days, my nights.

Since her birth day on Monday 6 August, it's all about the brand new grandbaby.
I haven't knit a stitch since her arrival. Give me a week or two to calm down and set myself and my knitting needles straight again.
Yeah, right.

I foresaw that aforementioned baby obsession might occur, so last week I went ahead and started writing a couple of blogposts, currently saved in 'drafts'. I'll be publishing them post haste.
I'm trying to trick y'all into thinking (though I know that you know) that I've not gone astray to the point of no return.

With that in mind...
two new baby pix for you to goochie goochie goo over...

introducing...

DollinkGranddaughterLBPS.
Birthdate ~ Monday, August 6, 2007

BTW, today is my birthday.
Sweeeeeeeeeeet!

(xxoxoxoxoxxoxxoxxxo heart)

Imaginary Friends

or....Which Way Did That Cwazy Wabbit Go?

I had a delightful time watching 'Harvey' on TCM this morning. Last saw it waaaay too many years ago and I'd almost forgotten just how endearing a movie it is.

The dialog, direction and acting - par excellence. (You can't miss with Jimmy Stewart)
However, a bit (outdated?)(misguided?) is the notion by writer Mary Chase in suggesting that adults having imaginary friends need be attributed to the excesses of social drinking.
It seems that is the suggestion, anyways...

There's an Aesop's fable-type morality lesson woven into the story - something along the line of how being a pleasant person makes for a much improved life.
Ya think?
Should go without saying, but Alas.



To be the recipient of kind, gentle words and sincere, heartfelt compliments? Invitations to dinner (drinks?) with no hidden agenda by the host?
Treated accordingly, who wouldn't be flattered?

Being pleasant and around those who are pleasant.
It's enough to make you feel good about being alive.
Sound practice, for life is so very short.

Re: Imaginary Friends: For a brief time, I had an imaginary friend by the name of Ralph, who helped me cope with more than a few 'teen moments'. Ralph stuck around for a particularly angst-filled year, after which I bid him a fond adieu...

Who is/was your imaginary friend(s)?

BTW: One word movie review: Chuckle.

No law (or conscience) at all in the wild...

More on seek n' seize hunter gatherers.

To be sure...
birds, squirrels and other hungry forest critters have no qualms about trespassing and foraging in our garden!

Pictured is the state of most of our vine-ripened tomatoes in the last week. Before that, the bounty was exclusive to our picking.

I'm all for the critters getting some, but c'mon little darlins! Save a few (of the good ones) for us!
During this harvest, it's a matter of beating them to get to the vine-ripened tomates first...

(I purposely left this one on the vine. I'm hoping the culprit (s) will finish one fruit entirely before going off and chomping a big hole in all the other ripening tomatoes before I can get to them)

(May have to resort to netting...)

(Our wee garden plot is cordoned off with a chain-link fence, so it wasn't deer or bear...unless they've figured out how to open and close the gate...)

(Hmmmmmmmm...)

fresh fruit free (?)

Last week, a friend and I went for early evening walkies.
During our long (almost 2 hour!) walk, C and I came upon a property that had a huge overgrown peach tree (and a plum tree as well) in the front yard.
Branches laden with ripe fruit spilled over the fence, practically right onto the ground at our feet.

Before C and I saw the fruit, we could smell their heady fragrance.

The photos don't do justice, but as you can see, the fruit had either fallen on the ground or were barely hanging on the branches - ripe for picking.

So why wasn't anyone taking advantage and hauling off with some of that luscious summertime harvest?
More to the point, why wasn't Yours Truly filling the nylon sack (I had one with me, using it as a lightweight purse backpack) - with a bit of that delicious bounty?

Well, because doing so felt like it would be an intrusion/trespassing on private property.

The neighborhood C and I were in - is pristine, affluent, quiet. No residents were out and about, though it's highly possible we could have been watched whilst happening by. We even saw a patrol car making the rounds to secure the area from potential prowler (or peach-pickin'?) types. I suspect that on the eaves of those huge, hillside homes could be found a surveillance camera or two...

It must be stated that I'm a good citizen who is not prone to pilfering on private property. Because I saw no evidence of friendly, handwritten signs stating 'Please pick to your heart's content' 'Fresh fruit - free for the taking' - I withheld my itchy need-to-have-some-of-this-free-fruit-pickin' hand from touching any of it.

Truth be known, I wouldn't have stopped at taking one or two peaches.
If I got going, I had every intention of picking enough to bake one helluva big fat pie.

There was no homeowner (not even a hired gardener!) around to ask for permission. I'm kinda funny that way - even with growing up in the Chinatown 'hood', I need to ask if it's OK before going a-scavenging.

Really, it just didn't seem to be that kind of neighbourhood.
So there. I didn't succumb to my harvesting instinct. Don't think C had a desire, or we could have conspired (one lookout and one picker)?

This week, you can bet that I'm kicking myself thinking about all that tasty fruit gone wasting and rotting away on the ground and on those branches.
Mmmmmmmmm.....and can't stop daydreaming about peach cobblers...plum jam...

Ah well.
Let go and let the wild birds have a field day all-you-can-peck-at buffet.

Guess I'd better get my honest little ass down to a U-Pick farm or to the local green grocer, then.

gotta dance

We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. ~ Japanese Proverb ~

Such a great quote*.(More where that came from).

Live by it.
I adore dancing and credit my love for dance music to my mom.
During my teen years, Mom used to dance into my room when'ere she heard this song. Or this one. When Mom requested: 'Play Mick' - the song she wanted to hear and dance to was this one.

* I luv this quote so much that this is the second time I've used it on a blog post.

do you duvet?

I first encountered sleeping atop feather beds and under puffy down-filled duvets during my numerous trips to Europe in the 90's. Wonderful beddings! Each evening, after a tough day of working a trade show and/or seeing the sites, I could look forward to engaging the feathery fluff. In addition, I had several square shaped luxury down Euro pillows to artfully arrange into a dreamy halo to lay my weary head upon.

The delights of down has everything to do with the 'poof factor', doesn't it?
Nestling into soft, feather-filled beddings does seem to set the stage for oh-so-delicious sleep.

Some years ago, our household bedding style finally got switched (from the old style top sheet plus several blankets or poly-filled comforter) to downy duvets sheathed in washable duvet covers.
Still haven't sprung for a feather bed mattress top - just a matter of time.
As for pillows, I'm still on a hunt. In the meantime, me poor ol' neck and shoulder muscles ache something awful...

Anyways.
Beds ~ get down on it.

I'm so accustomed to cuddling my duvet that it has remained on the bed after the chilly cold of winter passed into sweeeeeet mild springtime temps and even after spring finally yielded to the relentless heat of summer.

It's difficult to settle in properly for the night without a puffy blankie to snuggle. I get properly nested, fall asleep. In the middle of the night, I usually kick the duvet off for a bit. Then pull it back over when the bod cools. Off and on. On and off.
(Typical fitful sleep pattern of a middle-aged menopausal mama)

At any rate...

Question #1: Your beddings: top sheet n' blanket-poly-comforter or a simple poofy duvet? Down or down alternative?
Question #2: What to do with all the top sheets from the sheet sets?

Appetite suppressant, at the very least

Q: Why DOES the chicken cross the road?
A: To get the hell away from the slaughterhouse, of course.

How easily one's thoughts about food consumption can turn towards a totally vegan diet.

DON'T even get me started on the despicable and horrific practice of using beagles for animal testing...

This morning I ask you -
Is the glass half full or half empty?

time for: cute

adopt your own virtual pet!

My new pet.

one year anniversary

July 21 marked the first anniversary of b's blog.
My first post was an intro.
A bit shy, a tad reticent.

In the course of a year, I've grown more comfortable with the business of blogging.
It's been great FUN.
Constructing a post, however, remains a struggle (even the most trite of posts takes considerable time /effort to create).

Even so, I LUV it.
This blog has morphed into a bitchfest, bookfest, Beatlefest, cookfest, artcraftfest, nostalgiafest, et ceterafest.

A 'Little Bit O' Dis and A Little Bit O'Dat' is not a disingenuous byline.
My blog style is free-association, which is truly how I function and present myself.
C'est moi.
Take it (thank you) or leave it (waaaaah).

Blogging has proven therapeutic.
b's blog is a personal journal which reveals just a bit, but not too much. To delve deeper into b's psyche could be a scary thing (more so for others to read than for me to write).

Staying on the lite side of the blog road, I will continue to offer a laugh, jog a memory, inspire a creative endeavor, raise a hackle, prompt a read ...

On a good day, b's blog promises to be thought-provoking.
On a bad day, a frightful bore.

At any rate - it has been a year, so
Happy Anniversary to b's blog.

Truest words often left unspoken ~
this I'd enjoy having (perhaps in a funkier font) on a girl-style tee/ button/ mug/ tote:
No One Cares About Your Blog

Once upon a time...

The ability to read is a privilege and a gift.
There is little that compares with the pleasure of cozying down in a comfortable well-lit place for a read.
Quiet time with the written word.

Reading aloud can also be quite an enjoyable experience.
I sometimes read aloud to myself - or to others (and they usually don't run screaming...perhaps are too polite to...).

When it comes to being read to, children certainly are the lucky ones.
They oft have storytime offered: at home, childcare, school, bookstores, church and the library.

Adults have far fewer storytime opportunities.
In my humble opinion - young, older and old ALL delight in being read to.

Sure, we adults can stop in at book-signings to hear authors read brief excerpts of their latest book. A great variety/number of audio book titles are available for us to buy or borrow for a listen on our car CD or MP3 player.

Wouldn't adult storytime be even sweeeeeeter, though?

I love me my public library, but so far, they don't offer adult story-time.
KUDOs to public libraries that offer such programs!

As a special treat, let's all us adults spend a bit of social time reading aloud to each other now and again. Try it with your significant other(s) first, then relatives and close friends.
Might be - nice.

Ka-Boom!!!

Currently reading: 'Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded'.

A wee tale of geological phenomena, with undertones of fire and brimstone.

1883.
WEST of Java.
Krakatoa ~ a cataclysmic volcanic eruption, producing an equally deadly tsunami. The implosion-explosion ultimately killed 36,000, triggered worldwide atmospheric changes and influenced a multitude of existing and future global developments.

WOW.
Earth power.

This book is engaging.
But then historical/sociological non-fiction accounts appeal to me. Not for everyone, I realize. A few pages here and there are snoozers, and that's because a geology geek I am not. Geek-nerd in selected areas, but not this.

'Krakatoa' ...
* History, politics, geology, geography, literature, art, poetry, technology, meteorology and a slew of other science lessons.
*World commerce (and colonization!), fauna and flora, continental drift (aka plate tectonics), human foibles (my personal fave!).
*Coffee, pepper, clove and mace spice up the mix.

All this and more - based on a single event of 125 years ago. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second in the Big Picture View (love the Cirque-type music accompanying this video).

Author Simon Wincester happily veers off on seemingly unrelated tangents within any given chapter. No worries, for he then artfully corrals all these digressions back to the topic at hand.
Wincester's droll humor makes the fact-upon-conjecture-upon-fact-upon-empirical evidence an easier read. A good thing, as science-tech-talk can get a bit dry.

'Krakatoa: The Day the World Exploded' may render you feeling a bit insignificant in relation to the greater scheme of things. At the same time, the realization that your 15-minutes of fame existence on this earth is actually part of something VERY HUGE, and QUITE WONDROUS.
That alone is plenty exciting and worth the read.

Bonus trivia discovered whilst researching online: One theory linking Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' to the 1883 eruption of Krakatoa.

wabi sabi

Wabi Sabi be my middle name!

From what little I've read about it thus far (this morning online), wabi sabi is not at all like cattywompus (which I also like / live by), save for the acknowledgement of imperfection.

Wabi sabi seems to promote an appreciation for all-things-less-than-perfect. This extends beyond aesthetics to relationships as well.

I like this concept very much.
Hmmmmmmmmm.

Must look into it more. I've just added this book to my Amazon.com wishlist.

Rooibos Who?

Rooibos.
Red Bush Tisane (alrighty, then: Tea, Her-bull).
A pleasant tasting brew.
Refreshing.

Oft served by Mma. Precious Ramotswe.

I like it very much.
Next cuppa with honey
and a splash of milk.

dear folks...

...it don't get too much better than this.

I had such a good time yesterday posting 'Where Have All The Flowers Gone?'.
Came across this PPM video during my YouTube wanderings. Was so taken by its purity, clarity, simplicity.
Just had to share.

Where have all the ( ) gone?

Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream.
A personal favourite.
Good cherry flavor. Chock-full of large chunks of deep red sweet cherries.
Well, it used to be, anyway.

These last years, I've noticed Cherry Garcia is getting a bit skimpy on the fruit (where there were once bona fide chunks o' cherry, there are now shavings) as well as the choc (virtual specks now rather than thinnish chips).
Even the taste seemed less cherry, somehow.

Each pint proved more disappointing than the last.
I was just about to give up hope on CG and make the switch to Coffee Heath Bar Crunch as my B&J fave.
Ready to heave another big 'Oh well that'sa life' sigh, I slogged onward, muttering to myself -
Where #!?$#??%$!@!!? have all the cherries gone?*

Then - gentle fate - once again - intervened.
This spring, while on our Texas weekend getaway, HD and I stopped to re-fuel the rental car. Looking for a refreshing treat in the station's mini mart freezer case, I spotted a Cherry Garcia ice cream bar.

Really, how could I resist? Decided to give ol' CG another try....
Hmmmmm....Nice and cold.....Chocolate coated.....Tasty ice cream.....Plenty enough cherry bits throughout ...
Satisfaction!

Could it be that someone finally got wise at the B&J ice cream factory and returned the cherries to Cherry Garcia?
Or are ice cream bars the way to go now in lieu of pints?

Would someone else please do a taste test?

* This question begs the other, much too obvious, musical question. The following links will get ya there:
Marlene Dietrich

Pete Seeger

Mary Travers and The Kingston Trio

Peter Paul & Mary and Pete Seeger

Joan Baez

Each and every version of the song is lovely (thanks to a Baez recording in my possession, I can even sing a few lines in German!).

So - here's my suggestion ~
DO take a taste test of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia ice cream and whilst so indulging, DO tap into one of the above YouTube videos for a heartfelt singalong (between bites of CG).

Kindly remember to report back to me on YOUR ice cream taste test / cherry-count findings.

Success in the art of conversation: Helpful tip #1

To pose a question for almost every statement or opinion of your own offered.

Video: Conversation - Jan Garbarek Quartet

Smells .... like .... camping

We live here.
Well, very close to here.
Just a 15 minute drive beyond that far hill. Even further into the forest.

In the good ol' summertime, folks from the San Francisco Bay Area drive up thisaway en masse - for sun, fun, swimming, hiking, rafting. Horseback, bike and OHV riding. Communing with nature.
There are rivers, lakes, trails.
Scenic beauty at every turn.
Wildlife.
Fresh air.
Considerably less traffic.

Afternoon temps yesterday hovered in the 90's.
HubbyDear was clearing brush on our property. Working in the morning hours, with plenty of shade from the trees - the physical work was demanding but not too hellish.

I busied myself with 'inside chores', then stepped outside to check on HD's progress (read: make sure he hadn't overexerted himself and passed out there on the ground).
Not to worry. HD was just fine, having worked himself up into a healthy sweat and quite pleased with his progress: pruning, clearing, sweeping and general tidying up of 'our little chunk' of the forest.

Taking care not to stand down breeze (rarely is it windy enough around here to say 'down wind') from his sweat-soaked bod, I took a quick look round, then a gentle whiff - of our great out-of-doors.
I smiled. Nodded.
Stated 'Mmmmmmmmmm.....nice.......smells.....like .... camping'.

Then I turned heel and went back into the air-conditioned house.

On many days and in many ways - - - - - it's SWEEEEEET living here in the woods.

Happy Birthday, Little Ringo

for love of reading

Hands-down.
Reading is a joy.

I find book stores and libraries irresistible.
Wondrous places to wander, dream, escape, learn.

Making reading choices can be overwhelming (I find it delightfully so). It sometimes becomes necessary to pick up a book on choosing what books to read.
I have one that lists Not-to-be-missed-in-this-lifetime Classics.

There are books written about the sheer pleasure of words, of reading.
I have this title on my home library shelf as well, right alongside another great read (and no, I don't alphabetize my books).

Huzzah! for books, for reading, and for Clifton Fadiman and (his daughter) Anne Fadiman.

OMG! She's got a new book of essays out!

A winning combination: Big Boxes, coffee and cigarettes

The nearest 'big city' to my Little House in the Big Woods is SmallTownGettingBiggish.
Once a sleepy foothill community, the town seems to be experiencing a growth spurt. Slow and most steady.
With plenty of room to build, more people are a-comin'.
Property taxes will continue to rise, as will the median income. A population with disposable funds can support more amenities. Progress, once inevitable, is unstoppable. Changes that may cause the old-timers to go into an uproar are oftentimes (true confession) exciting to the newerbies.

An idyllic life indeed ~ in the 'best of all possible worlds': the laid back ambiance of a small town PLUS the discounted prices, convenience, familiarity ~ offered by Medium and Big Box stores/franchise restaurants. Sure, we'll bitch along with everyone else about the increased traffic, but boyohboy just imagine this happening: a Best Buy, Trader Joe's, Borders Books and an Outback to go along with the new Home Depot (the first four are flights into fantasy, Home Depot a reality - the foundation is being laid as we speak)...

Shopping here currently requires a bit of research and a lot of resourcefulness should one desire a specific good or service. You can usually find what you need somewhere in town - so long as the item in question isn't too 'exotic' (whatever that might mean). What most shops here lack in curb appeal, they make up for with limited but reasonable inventory; as well as the kind of friendly, personal service not typically found in Big Box settings.

This area may be in the baby-steps-stage of catching up to what other cities of the same size offer for shopping and dining, but with no uncertainty, change is coming.

If this is any indication -
- there are 3 (count 'em, 3) Starbucks in this town. They all do a hoppin' business. People from near, far and wide make beeline 'Do not stop at Go, Do not collect $200' pilgrimages to these three caffeinated watering holes. The parking lots are always full. A never ending queue of cars snake up to the drive-throughs.
Regular customers pack into the stores, with the 10+ word description of their fave coffee concoction ready to roll off the tips of their caffeine-withdrawn tongues to fall upon the ears of the eagerly awaiting Starbucks barista.

Tall/Grande/Venti in hand, every satisfied customer sips his/her beverage at what, these days - passes for a 'leisurely pace': in the car...driving madly to work or school... racing to the nearest Big Box store to drop some Big Bucks. Back for another shot of caffeine once the cycle begins anew the next day. Though rumor has it ~ some return for another hit the very same day....

('Addictive to Coffee' cartoon from littlefunny.com)

Interestingly enough, the other business in this small town (of few amenities) that can boast of a non-stop flow of customer traffic: a tiny, hole-in-the-wall, tacky, unadorned, dimly lit, stinky, bare bones, fly-by-nightish cigarette store.

(What's not to love about this classic Larson:  

'The real reason for dinosaur extinction...')

Big Boxes, coffee and cigarettes. Did I say a 'winning combination'?
Au contraire?

Someday my prince will come...

Last week, a good buddy o'mine sent this cartoon my way.
I got a chuckle out of it, and thought to pass it on to y'all.

waaaaaaaaaah?

Angry (Little Asian Girl) knitter?
Overzealous knitter?

Neither.

Sitting on the sofa, the dp needle was balanced on end upon my lap.
Set aside whilst I was ripping out (aka 'frogging')(aka 'cleansing') some rows on a sock project.
I bent over to pick something up off the floor.

Snap!
Thank goodness for bamboo needles, that break when undue pressure is put upon them.
Better a broken needle than a nice little hole (size 3!) right into my tummy.

Design for the other 90%

You all probably think I've gone 'bloggy' and you are correctomundo.

There are literally dozens of blogs categorized in b's Bookmarks folders to pick n' choose from for daily perusal. Blogs can be fabulous learning tools, and they are TO LUV.

Folks, I've also gone 'podcasty'. Whilst reading blogs, I listen to podcasts. Some require watching ('Dog Whisperer'). Some are downloadable PDF files ('Craft Magazine'). My list of podcast subscriptions has grown so ridiculously long that downloading them onto the ol' iPod is counter-productive. The podcasts roll in with such frequency that it makes more sense to sit n' listen during the daily internet/web e-mail check.

One of the many many podcasts queued up on my iTunes is NPR's (HUZZAH!) 'Pop Culture'.

'Pop Culture' is chock full of fascinating info, delivered in what I call snippets o' info. The topics are condensed into neat n' tidy nutshell sized summaries and/or presented as short interviews. Sure, they're 'teasers', a bit like 'Reader's Digest'. You want for more on the subject after getting a taste. 'More' can be researched at a later date. Snippets o' info are perfect for listeners who haven't the patience for hour + long, in-depth interviews on any one topic at any one sitting.
Note 'haven't the patience' rather than 'haven't the time', because I believe most everyone does have the time, it's a matter of prioritizing and making the time ...I'm pleading guilty - having gone sloppy with prioritizing lately...
Hmmmmmm. 'Not having the time' looks to be a great topic suitable for (yet another curmudgeon) posting- on another day.

Ahem.
Anyways.
Back to 'Pop Culture'.
Topic on June 17 podcast ~ 'Designing for the other 90%'.
= Design for Survival.
= Functional.
= Practical.
= Affordable.
= Brilliant.

Huzzah Huzzah Huzzah!

Above photo and the following caption from NPR website:
'When the water added to the sand evaporates in the Pot-in-Pot Cooler, it pulls heat from the smaller pot, keeping vegetables cool.'

)) poof ((

Lost it.
Gone.

Last night, readied for your reading pleasure, I completed something of a clever, amusing, informative, introspective, been-there-done-that-but-without-major-drug-use, celebrate celebrate dance to the music posting for this blog. Therein was even a reference or two to The Fab Four.

Topic: Summer of Love. 1967.
Me - at 16. Not a hippie, merely emulating some of the look and definitely grooving on the music. Mindful of the ongoing social movement - its broad sweep across continents, across oceans. I waxed poetic that it could have been our first taste of globalization. We're talking a BigAssSnowballMovement here.

I wrote a bit more about being a Chinatown kid: twice removed from the Haight-Ashbury. C-town had its own counter-culture thing going.
Earlier that year, in February (to be sure, a cold San Francisco day), I was initiated into a Summer of Love mindset by attending the Human Be-In at GG park.

It was a fair piece of writing. Typical for b ~ quantity if not quality.
Another stroll down MemoryLane.
A mantra for living life in the present with a fond tip o' the hat to that colourful and influential era.

Right before publishing, I clicked away to check on some factoid.
Blogger supposedly 'saves automatically'.
It didn't.
)) poof ((
My edited post was gone.
The rough first draft still there.
It was late. I was not up for a re-write.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr and Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrowl sez I.
I deleted the first draft. Too rough, sez I.
Gooooooooooodniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite sez I.
Ffffffffffffffffffffffff sez I.

Morning comes: 1967 still on my mind.
Burnt offerings will have to suffice.

This song will jog a memory for anyone who lived 1967. You'll remember where you were, what you were doing, what you longed for. Your life changed - big time.
Smell the pachouli. You're right back there again.

Those who missed it - can not even imagine...

9th rock from the sun

Ain't.

It shouldn't have surprised me to come upon an article today that mentioned
EX-planet Pluto.

But I oftentimes forget things (even BIG things like this) that I've learned/ heard/ seen, so surprise me it did: as in 'Whaaaa???!!?? Pluto isn't a planet any more?!?!?'

Alas, Pluto has been dwarfed, and is now categorized with Ceres (Ceres?!?!?).
Whooosssat?

[OMG, time for a nap...]

T.G.I.Beatles

Sometimes you feel like a nut...

ALMONDS (TOASTED)!!!
Any which way but loose.

Almonds are staples in my larder.
I go into withdrawal when any of my almond (from Trader Joe's) stashes run low:
Slivered toasted almonds.
Sliced toasted almonds.
Whole toasted almonds.

I use 'em daily.
Liberally.
Can't get enough of toasted almonds ~
At breakfast (sliced almonds atop Greek yogurt with berries and honey and granola).
For mid-day snack (whole almonds).
At dinner (slivered almonds atop tossed salad greens).

As you can see, almonds are consumed in typical b's Overindulgence Mode.

I hope beyond hope and trust beyond trust that almonds are oh-so-healthy to eat.
Because, Little Lottie - I am eating them.

Sometimes you feel like a nut...

John from Deadwood ... aka...'Ode to'...

... I'm re-watching Seasons 1, 2 and 3 of 'Deadwood'.
Screening these DVDs is against my better judgment; doing so reminds me just how much I miss 'Deadwood'.

I love this series.
In spite of unfair depictions of women, racial slurs and the many random acts of raw n' bloody violence.

I adore this show.
The characters. I am very much interested in the period of history (America's Old West) in which this show is set.

I heart the music!
Ran out and bought the first season soundtrack.

I enjoy the challenge of the show's language.
Besides the liberal use of the F word and a couple of very potent C words, the language of 'Deadwood' is outrageous, colorful, twisted, poetic. Much of it flowery to the point of sounding ludicrous. I mean, who talks this way?!? The show's creative force, David Milch - claims they did. I imagine the language of the Old West was undoubtedly a wee bit more colorful than, say, the dialog on 'Gunsmoke'.

So - I hang on every *ock*ucking word.
Trying to understand the dialog of 'Deadwood' requires that I watch with CC English subtitles on. Subtitles + audio allows for a better comprehension of the rather unorthodox combinations of adverbs to nouns to adjectives to pronouns et cetera.
Literary references abound, as do no-longer-in-daily-use words.
Having a dictionary closeby could also prove handy.

'Deadwood' ended rather abruptly with Season 3.
Too close to when the last episode aired was when HBO announced the show wasn't going into a fourth season.
Seems the show's creator, David Milch - had other creative roads to travel down, and 'Deadwood' was dropped from his project lineup like the proverbial hot potato.

Foaming-at-the-mouth fans (includes yours truly) of the series live in a sustained state of dismay since the end of the third season. I exist in a state of suspended disbelief /denial. Can it really be that the unresolved story lines of that last episode are the last glimpses I'll have of the makeshift town, ramshackle camp, the muddy thoroughfare, Swearengen's face as he's about to utter another 'Ffffffffffffff..', Bullock & Star Hardware, Wu's hogs, Trixie's cleavage?
Tell me it ain't so!

A week or two back, HBO premiered Milch's latest project for HBO: 'John From Cincinnati'.
I tried to watch it, really I did. Less than 7 minutes into the first episode, first my mind, then my feet - wandered - as I left the room looking for something better to do.

Wasn't 'John' worth watching?
I don't know and at this writing I don't much care.

I confess to not giving 'John' a chance because (damn it) I'm pretty pissed that Project John is very likely the main reason 'Deadwood' did not move into a Season 4. That the 'Deadwood' wind no longer fills and propels Milch's creative sails. That the proposed/promised two 2-hour movies to wrap the 'Deadwood' series - may never happen.

Eventually, I may warm to 'J from C'. Not anytime too soon.

Actually - I want my 'Deadwood'.
Ptui on (read: Ffffffffffffffffff....) all the rest.

savings stamps

Any b's blog readers out there old enough to remember S&H Green Stamps?

S&H is still going strong! It's morphed into S&H Greenpoints and it isn't necessary to lick stamps anymore...

I have vivid kid-memories of helping Mom lick n' paste little green savings stamps into fresh, smooth booklets with gridded pages. We filled book after book until we had a BUNCH of them. No longer smooth and flat, the completed S&H books would be bulky once we got done getting those stamps into them. We'd count 'em, stack 'em up, felt accomplished. We looked upon our stamp book booty with admiration. Guess what else - we felt RICH.

Big smiles all around.
Laughter and giggles.
The books could be traded in for a NEW something.
Something practical, something frivolous. In any event, a treat.

Giddy with anticipation, we'd get over to the redemption center with a paper bag full of S&H books. Half the fun was deciding what we could redeem the stamp books for - invariably, we'd choose something useful for the house. A space heater, shiny new toaster, warm blanket for someone's bed.

I can still get a happy (no artificial stimulants required) high similiar to the one Mom and I reached from filling those S&H books. Call it the po' people rush - whatever. The dizzy anticipation of consumer reward that could be attained by filling up those silly little green stamp books - boy, did it feel good.
Living in Chinatown, we coveted every 'this could benefit you - you are special - you get the prize' feeling.
(Remember the 'Queen For A Day' ** TV game show?)

Years ago, I discovered that my local grocery store (dare I call it a SUPERmarket?) offered savings stamps with every purchase over a certain dollar amount.
The store provides blank cards instead of books to paste the stamps in.
Once a card is filled, it can be redeemed (along with a coupon from the store's weekly advertising flyer) for a seriously discounted (sometimes free) food item.
Example: you can buy a can of tuna for 15 cents with a filled-out card + the tuna coupon.
A few months ago, I bought a $3.59 bag of Craisins for 99 cents with my stamp card and a coupon. Actually, I got 4 bags for 99 cents each + four filled-out cards +one coupon (low to no limit on the number).
What a savings!
WhooooooooHoooooooo!

This definitely appeals to the Discount%%%Mama in me...
...better yet - it brings back a fond memory from my youth.

You better know - I treasure the cheap thrill.
More so since my grocery store savings stamps aren't self-adhesive, but the good old-fashioned lick n' stick kind.
Just like them good ol' S&H stamps.

Always thinking of you, Mom.


** HD's grandma was a contestant - alas, her hard luck story didn't win the title/crown.

pocket - hankin

For too many months now, I've avoided a certain topic for b's blog, but something grossed me out in the laundry room today - prompting me to write this post:

Men who tote hankerchiefs for blowing their noses into.
Convenient.
Eco-friendly.

I beg to differ.
Hankies toted round for nose-blowing are, in essence - snot rags.
Blow your nose. Wad up the hankerchief. Shove it back into your pocket. Wait for another opportunity to re-use the already been used hanky. Use and re-use until it's a crumpled dried wrinkly mass of....of....of.....euuwww.

Bring it home, toss it into the laundry basket for someone to discover (and have to handle?!?) when it's time to do a wash.

Grosso estrememosso.

The only reason a man should carry round a clean cloth hankerchief is to offer it to a lady who needs to blot a bit of perspiration from her brow on a hot day, or to dab the area 'neath her eyes when a tear manages to escape. To my knowledge, ladies who still carry hankerchiefs don't do the snot-blow-then-carry-it-around-thang. So, guys - stop awreddy! Think Kleenex tissues. Use and dispose, s'il vous plait.

Where oh where is Mrs. Tiggle-Winkle when it's laundry day 'round here?!?

Addendum: BTW, in this house, we both do the laundry. Since the arrrrrrghhankies aren't separated out (I've asked, but this request is not complied with), I sometimes/ oftentimes come across one in the dirty clothes basket = Jump back, Jack!

In some circles, pocket-hankins have proven useful to wipe up other things. But we won't go there on b's blog. Not today, anyway. And definitely not until M. Tiggle-Winkle moves in and takes over washday duties.

Forgive me, Father... for I have...

just put in another order for yarn at KnitPicks.

I just can't help myself with this yarn thing.
Yarn is the absolute in touchy-feely. Major tactile stuff.

Hell (forgive me again!), I'm not even a 'good' knitter. That is, I don't 'knit good' (forgiveness!).
I just love surrounding myself with bundles of yummilicious yarns and thinking about the potential each skein offers.

As far as the cozy softy factor goes, many dogs and cats are also nice to touch. Keeping pets requires a bit more care/ TLC/ maintainance than keeping a stash of yarn.

Like any collectible, yarn can cost $$ to acquire.
Before this addiction gets too out of hand, I may need to frequent the thrift stores for old sweaters to unravel.
Yesterday, I checked a cool craft book out of the library. It's a handy dandy volume that is all about recycling flea market finds into creative wearables.

You can sense that guilt is factoring into my sin of insatiable yarn acquisition.
Repent repent.
Better yet, confess and go on.
[smile]

P.S. Don't even get me started on knitting blogs...

Japanese Simplicity

Early on in feathering the home nest, I often used the term 'Japanese Simplicity'.
My aesthetic vision was to someday live in a place that was deliberately styled and furnished minimally with just the essentials: with the right balance of texture, line and positive to negative shapes. Simple furnishings, all in lovely solid colors accented by a few yummy arty printed textiles and one or two pieces of artwork in a room.

Clean lines. No clutter.

Nice vision, eh?
Well - life got complicated.
Hand-me-down furniture and makeshift became the decorating mode. There wasn't much money to live on (is there ever?), and what little HD and I had was squandered on tasty foodstuffs (nevah evah skimp on food!) and Cost Plus chotkes.
For the longest time, I could not stop buying dishes. And chairs.
(We never really had a lot of matching dishes or chairs/sofas when I was growing up in Chinatown).

There was no escaping the 'house plant craze phase' back in the 70's.
It seemed like everyone, particularly urban apartment dwellers like myself - embarked on weekly hunts for cool houseplants. It was essential to add a bit of nature's greenery to the sterile stark interiors of our citified lifestyles, one little potted plant at a time.

Overnight, a generation of young adults learned the names as well as the light and water needs of dozens of houseplants. Armed with that knowledge as well as mist bottles, plant food, grow lights and macramé plant hangers (!), the collective lot of us turned humble abodes into virtual jungles (and ruined a few hardwood floors with water that runneth over from watering those plants).

Babies entered our lives, and with them - baby paraphernalia.
Soon after, we began to collect and compile years and years of kid's toys.
You can't get too minimalist with kid's toys. Hot pink Barbie furniture and a plethora of My Little Ponies and Star Wars action figures do not blend well with the idea of Japanese Simplicity.

Displaying countless bits and pieces of memorabilia from family/friends also factored heavily into the design mix. Souvenirs from a friend's European backpacking trip set on the mantle alongside old family photos and a Sesame Street toy and mini art trophy I received at high school graduation. Let's not forget about the various candles + votives. Why everything had to be out at the same time was probably due to having No Storage Space. In and of themselves, knickknacks can be so overwhelming.

Throughout the 70's and 80's, I became influenced by patchwork quilts, lace doilies, ruffle-edged pillowcases and curtains, rough-hewn as well as hand-carved golden oak wood, dainty teacups and saucers, pretty prints of chintz and soft textures like velvet, rough surfaces like Navajo rugs.
I've decorated with folk toys, English and Asian teapots, Japanese print fabrics, reproduction wood-cut prints, a cookie jar in the shape of a fanciful rhinoceros.

Well.
You get the picture.
My home decor = modgepodge.

Japanese Simplicity?
It never did happen for me in the 70's, 80's and 90's. The new millenium has brought little change. It looks to continue to be a pretty mixed bag around here, in spite of my occasional decorating purges.
I still appreciate clean lines, but also love homey cottage things and a touch of moderne as well.

Eclectic seems here to stay.

Even so, this week I'm entertaining a great fantasy.
It involves tossing (almost) all the old stuff out and starting anew.
A clean sweep.

HaHa.
Delusion reigns.

W.W.K.I.P.

World Wide Knit In Public (Day).

If you're not able to get to a public forum - go out and knit at a café or in the park with a friend; or do a bit of knitting by your lonesome in the privacy of home.

Knitting is gooooooooood for the soul.

Pipe Dreams

Bag pipes, that is.

Last week I learned the difference between Scottish bagpipes and Irish (Uillean) bagpipes.
The diff was described to me by a woman whose grandson quit his day job in social work to persue his love of playing bagpipes full-time. He hopes to become a professional musician.

Here's an example of how the two bagpipes sound:
Scottish.
Irish.

And here I thought a bagpipe was a bagpipe.
It (almost) goes without saying that everything (everyone, for that matter) deserves a closer look...

b.y.o.b.

Bring your own bags.
It's a good thing.

This went into effect on March 15th.
Just goes to show how infrequently I shop Ikea. Learned about the new bag policy at checkout yesterday (there's also self-checkout now - good if the scanners aren't malfunctioning).

So - I'm one of the last to know, but still appreciative of the statement that BYOB (or buy a reusable blue bag for 59 cents) makes.

Ikea.
A nice place to shop.
A nice place to work?

Texas Blues and Texas BBQ

Blues @ Antone's.
Mmmmmmmmm Mmmmmmmm nice.

and

BBQ @ The Salt Lick in Driftwood, Texas.
Mmmmmmmm Mmmmmmm good.

Tonight, my soul is hankering for some dizzying soulful bluez and my mouth is watering for some tender tasty ribs...

bury my heart - revisited

Did not mean to mislead.
Mea maxima culpa.

The HBO show 'Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee' is not a miniseries, as I had originally thought.

It's a 2-hour film.

Long awaited and well received.

I thought it quite good.
Still wish for a miniseries, though. There are many more chapters from the book that need to be told.


I confess to being somewhat insatiable on the topic of 'Natives' and the true accounts of their part in the settling (resettling?) of this country.

The good.
The bad.
The very ugly: shameful realities.

America, a prideful country. Be not too proud.
Repercussions of earlier acts upon their peoples continue to reverberate within The Nations.

Much to learn.
Field trip, anyone?

Pictured: Chief Sitting Bull ~ photographed in 1885 by D.F. Barry