A Love Letter to my Hometown

A colleague and friend had asked me if I would be willing to write up a little article on Iowa for her organization's newsletter. I had the option of writing anything I wanted about living in Iowa or Des Moines and that really got me thinking. When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to get out of this city, and this state. I was sure that I was missing out on all the excitement of living in a big city and constantly complained that there was nothing to do.

Over the years, as I've spent time in some of the larger cities, I've realized that Des Moines is actually a pretty nice place to live. There is constantly something going on but without the price and hassle of a big city. I can take in a baseball game for less than a movie. Now sure, the players don't play in the big leagues, but an afternoon at the ball park is really what baseball is about for me. I can check out some incredible world class art for free at the Des Moines Art Center or spend a day at the zoo checking out all the animal life.

The restaurant scene here in Des Moines has finally grown up. Working downtown (20 minutes from my house) I'm surrounded by great restaurants that don't take hours or reservations to get into. Good sushi, no problem, and without the high prices of other cities. Great variety, certainly. A New York Times article during the recent presidential campaign said that Des Moines had one of the best restaurant scenes in the country for a city this size. Per capita, we eat well.

But the big thing that I love about this city is that it feels small in many senses. I'm not constantly overcrowded. I can go walking on any of the numerous trails in the city without running into a lot of people. I can eat in any of the restaurants in town on a Friday night without more than an hour wait. I can get anywhere in town in 20 minutes or so. I live in a very nice neighborhood at a very affordable price. And there is more than enough to do. I can take in live music pretty much every night. I can shop at a farmer's market every night in the summer. But more than anything I can live well at a reasonable price. I love this city. I've gone from feeling like I'm missing out to realizing that they only thing I'm missing is high prices and hassles. This is a great town and this week I'm remembering that.

Jeremy Tankard is Awesome

A couple weeks ago I did a review for Yet Another Children's Book Blog of Jeremy Tankard's fantastic children's book, Grumpy Bird. I had loved the characters of this little story, enjoyed the dialogue, and absolutely adored Jeremy's art style. It is a wonderful book and I was happy to say some nice things about it.

Two days or so after the review was posted I got an email from Jeremy. He said how much he'd liked the review and asked if he could send me a poster and a sketch. Honestly I was just excited that he had read the review but I was thrilled that he wanted to send me something. He also linked to me on his blog.

So yesterday during work, Jeff called me to tell me that I had a big envelope in the mail. And that it came from Tankard illustration. That was about two. I could hardly wait the two and a half hours to head home and see what he had sent. And they were awesome. I got two posters, one primarily from Grumpy Bird (below, although the color is a bit off).

The second is an image from the poster of Boo Hoo Bird, Jeremy's newest. It had four panels and wouldn't fit in the frame for a picture so you get to see my favorite image, although not the one he signed.

But my favorite was this sketch (below) that he created for me. I went out today to buy frames and hope to have at least the sketch and the poster up on the wall in my studio this weekend. So this is a gigantic public thank you to Jeremy Tankard and a huge endorsement of his books (Grumpy Bird, Boo Hoo Bird, and Me Hungry!). Thanks Jeremy!!! You are too kind!

Mmmmm....Fast Food

Since I've become a vegetarian, I rarely eat at fast food restaurants anymore. It's just so difficult to find anything to order. Even the salads are out since so many of them are premade. Other than Subway, I've stayed well away from them unless I absolutely had to. I've been to KFC twice, Arby's twice, Wendy's once, and McDonald's once. And that's in the last 10 months.

Today though I was hungry for something quick, something I could bring back and eat at my desk, something that was not quite so healthy for me. And luckily I finally have a solution. Burger King offers a Veggie Burger! Not only that, but they use Gardenburger, which is actually somewhat tasty. They're not Boca's but they're tasty enough. So today I went out and bought myself a value meal. A Veggie Burger, fries, and a huge soda. And it was so tasty. I'm sure I'll make that an occasional treat.

The big thing for me is that they offer it. It tends to be a meat eaters world and the fast food world is even more meat crazed. To even give vegetarians an option, is an amazing thing. And a trend that I hope to support. Plus I loved the fact that the toys that came in the kid's meals were from books. Not books becoming movies, but stand alone books (The Dangerous Book for Boys, The Daring Book for Girls). This is a chain that I might be able to support. I know that Burger King is not a particularly conscienous chain, but they seem to be doing better than others. Now if they could just improve their commercials. (I'm not a fan of the king commercials). But at least I can go and pick up a fast food meal and still not have to compromise my principles. Because honestly, there is only so much Subway one can eat.

Peter de Seve

It's interesting to read several art blogs because eventually they will all be talking about the same thing. Last week I had never heard the name Peter de Seve. Then over the weekend I went through the entire archive for the blog lines and colors. This has to be my new favorite blog and I wrote down a ton of artists names to look at more closely. Peter de Seve was one of those names.

Then I happened to arrive at Drawn this week to find that they mentioned how Peter now had a blog. Drawn referenced that they found the information from Irene Gallo's blog, The Art Department, which I also read. Then out of nowhere Tony Diterlizzi, who's blog I read, mentioned Peter's work. From not knowing the man's name to 4 mentions in four separate blogs in one week. I just had to go looking for him. And holy cow, I'm so glad I did. I am in love with this man's work!!

And of course what I didn't realize is that I have seen his work all over the place, but just didn't know it. I remember a couple years ago I found a painting with a T. Rex in a Paris street scene. De Seve. I bought the book The Bear Went Over the Mountain (below) and loved the cover art. De Seve again. Peter has done character design for work films like Finding Nemo, A Bugs Life, Ice Age....the list goes on and on.

I've seen his artwork on magazine covers and never recognized the name. I've seen his New Yorker illustrations and never made the connection. He's everywhere. And even more exciting for me, he's coming out with a retrospective book, A Sketchy Past. This image has to be one of my favorites from it. Not only does it suit my vegetarianism, it's just hilarious. I love the look on the faces of the lobsters. Check out his blog for a clearer image.

Peter's style is cartoony but very detailed. He's fantastic at creating action and emotion in the same image. Characters come alive in his work. Each image is like a still frame from an animated film. I think it is interesting that Tony Diterlizzi mentioned Peter because I feel like their styles are very similar. And like Tony, I've been in love with their work for a long time and didn't realize it. I'm not sure why it took me so long to recognize his name but from now on I'll remember it. I'll also be adding his blog to my list of art blogs to read and looking for a copy of A Sketchy Past. I love finding new artists, and particularly ones as talented as de Seve is.

Unscientific Study

There is nothing scientific about a study I'm conducting. I don't use the scientific method, track my results, or even worry about variables. I'm just trying something to see what the results are.

Two weeks ago I started a news hiatus. I went from reading six or seven different news sources a day to not looking at the news at all. I avoid my news based bookmarks, change the TV channel if the news comes on, and have even avoided watching Jon Stewart all in the name of psychology. And I've discovered a startling revelation. Okay not really startling, but a revelation.

Since I've stopped reading the news, I'm in a much better mood. Even with my not feeling great, I've been much happier. I'm much more relaxed and my anxiety has dropped off dramatically. (heck I'm sleeping without ear plugs) I'm reading a lot more, writing a lot more, and am feeling much more creative in general. I've been scanning art blogs and doing some of my own drawing. I've been starting new short stories and having ideas just randomly pop to mind. I'm in a strangely good place.

I'm not sure how much of this is news related. My odd near death (or at least what felt like near death) experience is certainly playing a part. I'm sure a lot of the creativity is due to my refocusing on writing and drawing with the feeling that time is short. My goal is to have a published work by the time Jeff is out of school. But there are other factors as well. I haven't played WoW at all during these two weeks either, the longest break I've ever taken. Jeff has been very focused on school which keeps the TV in the house off and the WoW playing to a minimum. Even his WoW playing has dropped off dramatically. Not playing gives me tons of time and I'm suddenly interested in everything.

But since this isn't scientific, I have no idea which of these is contributing to my good mood. Eventually I may try to add one in at a time and see what helps or hinders. I may eventually go back to taking time and life for granted. But for right now I'm enjoying the feeling. I'm enjoying my more relaxed feeling. And I'll ride this as long as I can. Not scientific at all, but I'd call the experiment as success.

Picture

Just playing around at home. I'm sitting writing a ton of children's literature reviews so I will have a bit of a surplus to post on my other blog. And my wallpaper pictures keep changing. This one came up and I thought I would share it. Just for fun. This is an older picture of your humble narrator, one very unhelpful kitty cat, and apparently a snack.

Watching Coraline

I read Neil Gaiman’s creepy little story right after it came out. I remember sitting on the stairs after getting dressed that morning trying to finish the book before I had to go to work. I also remember taking it to work with me so that I could read the final conflict between Coraline and the other mother from my desk drawer. I simply had to find out what happened. I loved the story. As I have said repeatedly, here and to anyone else who will listen, Neil Gaiman has to be one of the most imaginative and fantastic writers out there. I’m constantly impressed by his work.

When Coraline came out in the theaters, I didn’t go, mostly because I hate the theaters. I also don’t normally like movies that are based off books I’ve loved. The book is almost always better. But curiosity got the better of me. And on Sunday I bought the movie (collector’s edition and all) sight unseen with the knowledge that even if I didn’t like the treatment I would love the animation. I wasn’t disappointed. The stop motion animation story of Coraline is a visual masterpiece. I’ve always been a huge fan of stop motion and Henry Selick carries it to its most beautiful and believable conclusion. There were times in the film last night where I was so caught up in the incredible colors and settings that I forgot that the film was stop motion. I am constantly in awe of the amount of thought and work that goes into making a film like this. That’s why I had to buy the collector’s edition. I wanted the “making of” features.

The film stays mostly true to the book with a couple notable changes. While I understand the addition of the character of Wybie, I was mostly just annoyed with him. In fact I, like Coraline, preferred the silent version in the other mother’s world. I loved the treatment of Bobinski and the actresses downstairs Misses Forcible and Spink. Coraline was a wonderful character and we really get a chance to see the depth of her emotion. I’m constantly amazed by how they can create such deep emotions with puppets. But I really thought the Other Mother stole the show. They created a character so cloyingly sweet at the beginning that she is almost smothering, and then a character so incredibly evil that I’m sure there were plenty of children who went home and had nightmares. The film seemed an interesting mix of childish and adult and I went away with the feeling that the movie was actually more geared towards adults than children. That is not a criticism. It is rare to find animated films that have an edge and this one delivered. There were wonderful moments of humor but there was also an edge of creepiness throughout the film.

After watching the film I sat down to watch the “making of” features. I am constantly in awe of any type of animation but stop motion in particular. The bonus features were interesting although I’ll be on the lookout for a book that covers it as well. I wanted more of the puppet building and less on the voicing of the characters. But I may be one of the few people who are interested in that kind of thing. Considering I spent the rest of the evening on the couch reading a “making of” book for Toy Story, I’m far more interested than the average joe. (by the way, did anyone else know that Joss Whedon helped write the script for Toy Story?) I sadly can’t watch Coraline in 3-D (I tried) but with only one real working eye, everything just looked green. But even without the 3-D, I was pulled into the film. I was impressed and awed by the movie, but a little disappointed with the bonus features.

Ender's Game

Of course last week I didn't write anything about anything because I was reading Ender's Game and that was filling all my time. I finished Ender's Game Friday night but couldn't write about it. It was too fresh, too powerful. I just wanted to bask in the wonderfulness that is the book. Saturday I got entranced by a new art blog lines and color and of course had to go through the nearly 5 years of archives to find artists I like. I filled four notepad pages with just artists names who's work I want to explore. This meant that I had no time for writing a review. Today I'm back at work and suddenly feel like writing. So without further ado, Ender's Game.

Mention the book Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card to almost anyone who's read it and their eyes will light up. When I mentioned I was reading it, I had a ton of people who told me how much they loved the book. And I can see why. The story follows Andrew "Ender" Wiggins, a young boy who could be the greatest military strategist of all time. At least that's what the government thinks. At six years old he is taken from his family to train on battle strategy games. The commanders set him up as the greatest, alienating him from his classmates, and Ender performs. He rises quickly to the top of his class and graduates well early from the Battle School he attends. At 11 he is moved from Battle School to Command School and is trained on a simulator. He quickly proves himself to be the best at the simulator winning every battle against the alien species called "buggers". But the game is driving him crazy. I won't tell you the ending. Somethings are best discovered individually. But they real question is whether Ender's fragile psyche can hold out long enough for him to lead the troops into battle.

This book was a stunning and somewhat brutal looking into a military society. Ender, young and sensitive, is driven to the point of madness by commanders who are trying to see if they can crack the boy. They need to prove that he is the best general ever but watching them push this fragile young boy is very painful at times. The moment Ender gets comfortable and becomes happy, he is moved from his situation. He is never allowed to keep friends for any length of time and must fight his own battles, often with his own survival at stake. And all the time the military watches him. The description of the battle games, particularly the zero-gravity games, was fascinating. Ender's strategies are constantly evolving and we are given a chance to see his brilliance regularly. But we also see how much pain he is being caused.

I actually picked up this book at Jeff's insistance. He had picked it up last time we were at the bookstore and when he was finished, had left it on the table for me with one simple word. "Amazing". I couldn't agree more. Card's writing is fast paced and this book flew for me. Of course that could be because I couldn't put it down. I was interested in the school strategies and the interactions between the students. I grew to love the character of Ender and hate the military commanders. I cried at the end for reasons I won't disclose. This book touched me and angered me and thrilled me. A wonderful combination of action and emotion. And one of the best SciFi novels I have read in a long time. The next time someone mentions that they are reading Ender's Game, my eyes will light up and I'll start spouting about how much I loved the book.

Poetry Friday

I've been a bit remiss about posting this week. I'm guessing my little incident on Sunday morning had something to do with it but I'm trying to not use that as an excuse. The real excuse is that I started reading Ender's Game and now can't think of anything else.

For poetry I've been digging through my vaults for something military to go with the book and still couldn't think of what to use. There aren't that many great military poems that I enjoy (Charge of the Light Brigade aside). But I did think of Rudyard Kipling (best known for The Jungle Books). And he has a poem that makes me think of Ender for some reason. This is "If" by Rudyard Kipling.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Odd Mood

I'm in an odd mood. Here is a little doodle I did over lunch with Microsoft Paint. It's called the Tragic Tale of Ollie the Olive. Not sure why, but it made me laugh. Clearly I need my head examined. :-)

Heinous F%$&ery

I mentioned yesterday that I'm reading Christopher Moore's Fool and this title just about sums it up. And I mean that in the best possible way. If you have never read Christopher Moore, you need to pick up one of his books. I'd recommend Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Friend but you could easily start with any of his others and be just as happy. I've read almost all of his books and have yet to be disappointed. Fool is a light-hearted bawdy romp through Shakespeare with a bit of modern sensibilities.

Fool is the story of King Lear, told by his court fool, a small but mischievous man named Pocket. The tragedy of the mad king and his scheming daughters becomes a comedy when given to a fool to tell. For those of you who are not aware of the Shakespearean tradition of the fool, this is not a simple court jester. A court fool was often the only person in the court who told the truth, no matter how painful. And Pocket certainly lays it out on the line. Most of the royals around him want to hang him, the king threatens him regularly with violence, and he ends up in more beds than should be allowed. There is intrigue, madness, sex, death, and tons of swearing. Heinous F...ery as Pocket calls it.

The story starts with the mad King's decision to split his lands based on which of his daughters loves him the most. Two of the daughters profess their undying love and receive portions of the kingdom. The third, and youngest, says that she loves him as a daughter, nothing more. She is banished to France. From that point on Pocket is scheming to get the daughter back into the country. And the daughters are scheming to take the rest of the kingdom away and rule the entire country. All through this Pocket, bells merrily jingling, seduces and bribes his way through the kingdom creating war, havoc, and ultimately death.

Moore may be telling the story of King Lear but he doesn't confine himself to one story. The witches of Macbeth play a role in this story, and Moore uses lines from at least eight other plays that I counted. The character of Pocket is wonderful. I love him the way I loved stories of Harlequin, there is something wonderful about being bad. Pocket shags every unmarried and sometimes married women he can, swears constantly, and is regularly deriding and verbally attacking any character in sight. He's a scoundrel but a lovable one. He is surrounded by a cast of enjoyable characters and one rather randy ghost (there's always a bloody ghost). The book is full of puns, inside jokes, one-liners, and bawdy humor. And like all Moore's books, it was a wild ride that ends up being a ton of fun.

Catching Up

After not getting much sleep on Sunday, and having problems falling asleep that night, I decided to take Monday off. I woke up groggy from the medication, and called the office that morning. Then I went back to sleep until about one in the afternoon. Apparently my body was finally sick of being sick and ready to just rest. I got up at one and moved myself downstairs to get more sleep on the couch and watch TV. I didn't even touch my computer all yesterday which is really saying a lot. I probably slept 18 out of 24 hours yesterday and still managed a full nights sleep last night.

Jeff was wonderful about taking care of me lately although I'm not sure why it is hitting me so hard recently. I've had bronchitis in one stage or another for four weeks now. I should be used to it. But after Sunday's little excitement I've been acting like an invalid. Although it gave me a chance to catch up on my reading. I'm reading Christopher Moore's Fool which may be the best possible thing to be reading while ill. It is funny and bawdy and wonderful. The story is based on King Lear with some other Shakespeare influences thrown in. I'm sure I'll do a full review when I'm done. But there is nothing better then a funny book when one isn't feeling well. I laughed and coughed and enjoyed.

When I wasn't reading or sleeping yesterday I watched my new favorite show NCIS. As is typical for me, I'm watching it in reruns which means that I have no idea what is going on with the current season. USA has it on pretty much every afternoon for several hours at a time and I was content yesterday to sit in front of the TV and watch until all the episodes were over. I seriously am addicted to that show. Although I think I should probably cut back on my watching recently. Last night I dreamed about the characters.

Today I'm back at the office although I'm still a bit groggy. The good cough syrup really packs a punch and I've been struggling to concentrate and be productive for most of the day. But at least I'm here. And feeling better. And of course breathing.

Saturday Night at the...Emergency Room?

Last night I learned the true meaning of terror. As most of you know, I've been dealing with Bronchitis for the last couple weeks. I do a lot of unproductive coughing, deal with mild chest pain, and complain to everyone around me. Last night, it turned scary.

I sat up playing until about midnight last night. I'd been a good day of visiting friends and relaxing and I was feeling good. Not even any anxiety. Most nights I wake up with some sort of coughing fit and last night was no exception. About 1:30 I woke up coughing, then gasping, then choking. My larynx decided that it was done with all the abuse it has taken the last couple weeks and closed in what is called a laryngospasm. I felt like I was suffocating. Jeff heard me struggling for breath and raced up the stairs. He arrived and helped me to the floor. I was light-headed from lack of oxygen. And apparently that was the magic remedy. As I lay on the floor my throat opened and I was finally able to breath again. Jeff bundled me into the car and we drove (rather quickly I must say) to the ER.

I used to tell people all the time that with the number of times Jeff's been to the ER, I've never had the opportunity to go for myself. That part is true. I've never had to go to the emergency room for me. I've never had a reason. But as I walked into the waiting room (blissfully empty) I was shaking and still pulling a bit for air. The lady behind the desk asked for my name and birthday and then her eyes went wide when I told her I had stopped breathing. She immediately printed out a wrist bracelet and I was whisked behind the closed doors and set up on my very own cot. Since they were short on rooms I got a spot in the hallway. Jeff and I ended up spending from about 2 until 4 last night in the emergency room. I was attended to pretty frequently and everyone was incredibly nice. It made a scary experience a little more relaxing. I'm currently living on about four hours of sleep but I'm a little afraid of coughing. And sometime this morning I'm running out to get the "good" cough syrup I was prescribed.

But last night had to be the scariest night of my life. I've never felt that close to death and I have to say that a suffocating death would not be pretty. I can't wish that on my worst enemy. Today I'm still nervous that it will happen again but mostly I'm just happy to be alive. And counting my blessings. I think it will be a long time before I take breathing for granted again.

Poetry Friday

A friend of mine has been posting Alice in Wonderland quotes as his facebook status and got me rereading the books. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass are two of my favorite books of all times. And the Jabberwocky is one of the first poems that I remember reciting. I love the made up words (vorpal, snicker-snack). And of course the word chortle, which Lewis Carroll added to the English language. (no spell checker for this post) So without further ado, Jabberwocky.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wade;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought --

So rested he by the Tumtum tree.

And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came wiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

The illustration is again the original John Tenniel from the books.

Create and Destro

No that is not a typo. I know you're looking at it, visually adding the Y. But trust me, it's not. It'll make sense in a moment.

Those of you who know me, know that I tend to get heavily involved with whatever I'm passionate about for a couple weeks and then I move on to something else. This isn't new. I've been doing this all my life. For a period of time I will read and learn everything I can about Japanese Fish Printing. Then a month later I'm obsessed with Kayaking. A month after that and all I can talk about is Botany. You get the idea.

But there are a couple things that seem to defy this trend. The first is writing and storytelling. I've been writing or storytelling (different things for me) since I was a small child and that's not about to stop now. The second is animation which I am a HUGE fan of. Anything animated interests me. I'm fascinated by all types. The third is reading which is a bit like breathing to me. I'm not going to stop until they nail my coffin shut.

But I've picked up two new passions in the last year that seem to be defying the "month or two" trend. And these hobbies are different as night and day. The first is knitting, which my little sister taught me about two years ago. And I'm incredibly grateful. Thanks sis. On Wednesday I finished my first mitten. I used the wrong needles and it's way too small for me, but it's a mitten. And the moment I finished it, I picked up my new correctly sized needles and started the ones for me. I love that I'm taking one long piece of yarn and creating something I can wear from it. I have a group of women who I meet with every Wednesday and we sit, and knit, and drink coffee, and talk. And I've just recently hit my stride when it comes to knitting. I'll probably never be as good as two of my groupmates who just submitted sweaters to the state fair, but I love the chance to create. I've never been particularly crafty, so this is a chance to experiment and try and still create something that I'll wear with pride in the winter months.

The second "newish" passion is for WoW. Although the hobby waxes and wanes in the amount of time I'm playing, it hasn't gone away. I'm not doing a lot of soloing recently, focusing instead on raiding with the guild, but I'm shockingly still playing. What started out as an agreement between Jeff and I (I would try WoW, he would try knitting) has stuck into a regular hobby. I play at least 12 hours a week, which may seem like a lot, but is down considerably from where I was. Last night I raided with the guild in Naxx and we managed to bring down three quarters and part of a fourth in three hours. That's huge. It is scary to think that we might be reaching a point where we could complete Naxx in one night. WoW for me is just an extension of all the role playing games I enjoyed when I was younger. For a couple hours I get to play a totally different person. A character that destroys. A character that shoots fire from their hands. They don't call them Destro warlocks for nothing. :-)

So I think about my new hobbies. One based on creating and one based on destroying. And it seems a good balance to me. Ying and yang. And for the moment, they're sticking around.

Endurance

Many years ago my mother and I sat in the movie theater and watched a fascinating film about the expedition of the Endurance to the South Pole. I remember being riveted by the story and the extraordinary lengths that the crew went to for survival. Ever since then I have been wanting to learn more about this potential disaster. So this past week I sat down with South: The Endurance Expedition, written by none other than the ship's captain himself Ernest Shackleton. I'm not reviewing the book here. I'm more interested in telling you this amazing story of survival.

The year is 1914. Roald Amundson and Robert Scott have just finished their race to the South Pole and discovered it. Amundson is given the glory of first although more people remember the tragedy (and stupidity) of Scott's attempt. And the world has South Pole fever. Ernest Shackleton has gone on a couple Antarctic expeditions but he has hatched a new plan. His goal is to cross the Antarctic continent on foot. He puts an ad out calling for men. It blatantly says that there is a good chance they won't survive the attempt. Amazingly, hundreds of men clamor for the spots. Shackleton picks 27 to accompany him on the Endurance. In August of 1914 they set sail, right as war is breaking out throughout Europe.

The ship sails to Chile and finally sails for the Pole in December, at the height of the Antarctic summer. At first the sailing goes well. The ship and crew pass easily into the Weddell Sea and push to make landfall. But the ice pack is worse that year than normal. The traveling is slow going as they are constantly needing to find breaks in the ice pack in order to make forward progress. The ship can push through, but not at any great speed. Finally in February the ship becomes trapped in the ice pack and can no longer move. Shackleton realizes that the ship and the crew will now have to spend the winter trapped in the seas around the Antarctic. Sadly this is not the worst of the things to come.

Winter passes quietly. The ice pack drifts north along with the ship and crew. The crew makes themselves useful by training the sled dogs, hunting for food, and playing the occasional pick-up soccer game. Although the temperature is well below zero, and there is no regular light, food is not scarce and the men are relatively comfortable. The pack is moving north and everyone is hopeful that by the end of the winter they will be free to sail. But this is not to be. In October 1915, nine months after being trapped, the ship is crushed by the ice pack and the expedition is required to abandon ship.

Endurance crushed in the ice pack

They move their smaller fishing boats, supplies, dogs, and food onto stable ice and set up camp for the spring. (Patience Camp) The ice pack continues to drift north and the temperature is starting to warm up. The crew is forced to camp on the pack throughout the summer but the ice pack is starting to break up. In April 1916 the crew is forced to leave the ice in their lifeboats. The dogs have long since become ill and been shot. Food is running short and Shackleton decides that they must try for the Danger Islands or Elephant Island. The crew is forced to live in the fishing boats for days, finding occasional packs to prepare hot meals. Finally they are able to land on Elephant Island in May and build something of a camp. But this is not a permanent solution and Shackleton knows it. He must find rescue for his crew. So he devises a risky plan. He and five other men will take one of the boats and attempt to sail to South Georgia Island in Chile. The island is 800 miles away through open ocean. But it is the crew's only chance of rescue.

Crew left behind at Elephant Island

With the limited rations and winter approaching, Shacketon and his chosen crew, only wait a couple days to set sail. They take only a few of the supplies and head out into open water. The ocean is rough and the boat has a hard time making headway. The group is constantly freezing and thirsty, but 16 days after setting out from Elephant Island they are able to land on South Georgia Island. They find a secluded bay to land in only to realize that they are on the wrong side of the island. The ocean has battered the little boat and it is incapable of making it around. So Shackleton leaves three of the men with the boat, and he and two others set off to cross the island on foot. With no real food to assist them and little fresh water, the three manage to cross the mountains and glaciers of the island in two days. They stumble into a whaling harbor in clothes that have been worn for 10 months or more straight. They are starved and unkempt and unwashed. But the manager of the station hears their story and offers them aid.

The three men left on the other side of the island are picked up within a day or so of Shackleton making it to the harbor. When he arrives with the rescue boat, the men on shore don't recognize him shaved and cleaned. They keep wondering why none of the original crew would come for them. Then Shackleton begins the campaign to find a ship that can rescue the rest of his crew still stranded on Elephant Island. It takes months to find a suitable ship that can make the attempt in the winter. The rescue is attempted three times without success. Finally Shackleton takes a small tugboat, not suited for the ice pack but still workable, and manages to reach Elephant Island. He arrives to find that every single member of the party is still alive. In August 1916 the crew is finally brought to Chile and safety, two years after leaving England for the expedition and 18 months after becoming stranded. The crew survived two Antarctic winters, numerous frostbites, low food, and unimaginable odds.

I am in awe of this story. It seems so fantastical that it is hard to imagine that it is real. They say that humans can survive through some of the toughest conditions on earth as long as the desire to survive is strong enough. This story is a testament to that for me. I'm completely in awe of Shackleton and his crew and their desire for survival. I don't think they would have lasted without it.

Shackleton (right) at Patience Camp

All images taken by Frank Hurley, expedition photographer.

The Art of Illusion

Trompe L'oeil is the art of making something appear real. It is taking a two dimensional surface and making it appear three dimensional. I have seen incredibly successful Trompe L'oeil paintings but my favorite type is traditionally architecturally based. These are buildings that draw the eye because they appear to have something that shouldn't exist. And many of them can look very very real.

Yesterday I was checking out a new art blog Lines and Color and stumbled across the incredible public murals of John Pugh, Trompe L'oeil artist. Pugh is a California artist whose incredibly life-like murals are displayed across the country on various buildings and businesses. The first one that caught my eye was this incredibly wave image on a building in Honolulu. It was hard for me to imagine that the building was flat, that this is just a wall.

Pugh has had several incidents involving his work. I was reading on his website (linked above) that a Hawaiian Fire Department, shortly after this was painted, stopped traffic and attempted to save the children up on the ledge. They quickly got close and realized the children weren't real. I was shocked to find out that the woman looking "into" this building below was also painting. Pugh incorporates so many parts of the original wall and this simply looks so real that many of his buildings have caused traffic accidents as driver attempt to understand what they are seeing.

My favorite story from Pugh's site is the one about the cafe below. The owner of the cafe, which is in San Jose, received a complaint from one of the patrons. I guess the patron had approached the woman in the picture and attempted to introduce himself. He was strangely given the silent treatment. By the way, nothing in this picture is real. The woman, the sculpture, the plant, and of course the doorway is not real. All a trick of paint and depth.

There is a magic and a wonder to this type of painting. I have no clue how he achieves such illusions of depth but I am in awe of it. I've seen my share of good and bad Trompe L'oeil but this man has to be considered a master. And a new favorite muralist for me.

Noobish-ness

For my non-gamer friends a "noob" is an unseasoned gamer. Someone who makes rookie mistakes and often seems unaware of the basic mechanics of the game. In a raid, a noob will often manage to wipe the party with some easily avoided mistake. A noob will ask questions about seemingly obvious parts of game play. We all start out as noobs. Last night, as a guild we played that way.

The core group of raiders for the guild tends to be pretty seasoned. We've seen all of Naxx and are now comfortable farming it (with a couple exceptions). As a group we've been to over half of Ulduar and brought down bosses using achievement strategies. Many of them have PUG'd all of the raids in the game. We've had a lot of shining moments. Last night was not one of them.

We started our raid on time and figured we would start with an easy victory. On Thursday we had downed Flame Leviatian, XT, Kologarde, and Auriaya with only one or two wipes. We were feeling good. Last night we started with Razorscale and managed to bring the big dragon down with only one death. We're still feeling cocky and decide we'll quickly handle Ignis and then move on to Freya, who we haven't really fought much yet. Ignis had other plans for us. We wiped on the trash getting to him, twice. Our first attempt on Ignis did not last long. We were killed quickly. The adds took too long and he kept killing people in his flaming pot. The second attempt was even worse with at least three adds running rampant through the party. After four or five attempts (they all blur together) we decided to bypass Ignis and head down to Freya. At least that way we could see the fight and learn.

To get to Freya, you need to kill a ton of trash. We had done this once on Thursday but the trash respawns. So we started with the first pull. And wiped. We managed to bring that down only to wipe again two trash pulls later. Wiping on a boss seems acceptable, wiping on a trash pull is just noobishness. We wiped four more times on the trash, including one terribly hurried pull where we grabbed a patrol as well. By the time we cleared the last trash and faced Freya most of us had repair bills of 30 gold or higher. Not good.

Freya has to be one of the most confusing fights in Ulduar. She has four different types of adds that spawn and each has to be treated differently. The detonating lashers need to be AOE'd down until about ten percent and then killed individually. Otherwise they all detonate together and wipe the raid. The three storm adds need to be killed within a minute of each other or they will respawn over and over until they wipe the raid. The ancient protector needs to be killed while standing under the growing and shrinking mushrooms. And the healing tree needs to be dpsed down quickly so it doesn't heal Freya. Oh and did I mentioned that new adds spawn every minute. Once you get through the add spawns, Freya herself is a piece of cake. I don't even remember how many attempts we had on her. Death after death, until shortly before midnight when we figured out the patterns and got lucky with the spawns and managed to bring her down.

We then decided to try the Assembly of Iron. It was 10 minutes to midnight (the designated end of the run) and we figured it wouldn't hurt to see a new fight. I would like to say that we lasted 30 seconds but I think that might be stretching it a bit. We were dead in seconds. It was just another death in a night of wipes. We died on bosses, we died on trash. Our shaman (my cute and wonderful husband) decided to play with the flowers instead of just dying and brought them down on us just as we resurrected. We died a lot. But we learned. The guild has never had a great raid make-up but we make due with what we have. We learned, we brought down Freya, and we saw more of Ulduar. Next trip will hopefully be better but I'd rather be Noobish with the guild, then masterful with a PUG. Expensive night but a good one.

For Jeff

Ten years ago today, Jeff and I got married. When I think about the number of years it seems like forever, but it feels like it has gone by in a flash. It hasn't and last night Jeff and I sat down to think about all the things that have changed in our lives since that day, a full decade ago. I was 22 year old, fresh out of college and he was 24, young enough that we still had problems renting a car for our honeymoon. We have gone through multiple jobs, multiple homes, multiple returns to school, and many fabulous vacations. We've been together through thick and thin. And I love him.

I tried this morning to find a poem (since it is Poetry Friday) that told him everything I wanted to say. But nothing really works. Poetry tends to be about new love, new lust, attraction. Not ten-year old love. Not love that has lived together for almost 4000 days. Not love that has grown comfortable with itself. I thought about that on my way to work this morning. And came up with this. Not good, not really even workable, but my feelings nonetheless.

I was young,
certainly way too young
for walking down an aisle in white.
A fairy tale moment,
of Cinderella finding her prince.
Trembling with love,
and lust,
and promises that had yet been spoken.
And you were young,
young enough that you seemed unfazed
by words like "I do" and "forever".
Barely a man, in tux and tails.
I was white, and pearls, and heels
and I was in love.

I stood this evening in jeans,
t-shirt, flip-flops,
A smear of ink on one of my cheek.
Champagne replaced by coffee.
Momentous replaced by mundane,
A life of mornings and evenings
often the same.
Ten years on and the pearls are gone.
But without the momentous,
without the artifice,
without the heels and parties and thrills,
I find I love you far more than I did,
the day we married.
And I have to wonder if the fairy tales were false.
Love is not one instant flash of passion
Real love is a gathering of days.

The Joys and Pains of Pet Ownership

Just a warning, this is not a particularly pleasant topic and I apologize if I gross anyone out. If you are anywhere squeamish about body functions, you'll want to skip this one. But it's what's on my mind.

I mentioned two days ago that my kitty was being holed up in the downstairs bathroom for some testing. The cute adorable little bugger wouldn't cooperate by providing the urine sample we needed. She hates the litter they need to use and was simply not willing to cooperate. After 14 hours of keeping her trapped in the bathroom, Jeff released her into the rest of the house and we gave up on getting anything from her. I don't blame him one bit. If I didn't sleep with ear plugs, I wouldn't have been able to handle the constant mewing and pleading from her. Plus the pain and fear that were evident on her face. It was really awful.

So yesterday he took her to the vet's office so they could try to get the sample. The vet figured she would be back by that evening. Boy, were they wrong! Well over 24 hours later and my little kitty is not yet home, still holding out. I knew she could be stubborn but I had no idea that it would be this long. I know that all of this is for her own good, but it still completely rips me up inside. I'm a big believer in not causing suffering to anyone, animal or human, and this test just seems like torture to me. I can't help but imagine her at the vets, scared and in pain from holding out so long. And I can't explain to her why we need to do the test.

I will tell you right off the bat that we have the greatest cat in the world. She is loving and quiet and always excited to see us. She comes to meet us when we come home from anywhere. She loves attention but is not pushy about getting it. She is never vindictive. She sleeps at our feet every night. We adore her. That's why this is so hard for me. I'm just hoping she's home before the vet closes tonight. I don't want to leave her there again overnight. And although a urinalysis is scheduled for every year, I don't think I can bear doing this to her again next year. Call me a bad pet owner, but this is just a little too hard.

Sorry if this was TMI for anyone, but it's been on my brain all day.

Peter Callesen

I'm sure I've mentioned many times that I have a cat named Misty. Misty had to go to the vet today which is not her favorite thing. And the vet informed us that we need a couple tests for her. She's fine but she's crossed that magical border into elderly. Tonight she is trapped in the downstairs bathroom, and I'm having a hard time concentrating. She keeps meowing and pleading. So I need a little levity and beauty tonight.

Luckily I have just the thing. A couple months ago a friend of mine introduced me to Peter Callesen, paper artist extraordinary and I just have to share his work. I love paper art and Peter seems to take it to a level beyond anything I've ever seen before. Callesen is from Denmark although his work has been displayed all over the world. This is one of my favorite pieces of his. I love that the skeleton sitting in the chair was cut delicately from the outline on the paper. The chair is the same way. Callesen does that frequently. His art often highlighted the empty space left in the paper as much as the sculpture created from it. He uses juxtaposition well, like in the below image, titled Looking Back.

This next one is probably his most famous. He has done multiple scale castles in his work but I love the size and beauty of this particular castle. It is called Impenetrable Castle.

Callesen does not confine himself to just working with a single sheet of paper. He has done framed standout work, full sized castles and paper boats. This is one of my favorite of his framed works. I love the puppet hanging below, the drawn hand above, and the transition between drawn and cut.

And he doesn't always do small work. He once built a paper boat big enough for him to launch and paddle. He has created paper tunnels big enough to walk through. But for me it is his small, delicate, detailed work that makes me shake my head in wonder. I am so in awe of this man. Check out his work at his website, linked above.

Saving the Earth, One Cool Cup at a Time

I love to buy coffee. I enjoy drinking coffee quite a bit but I really love buying coffee. I love the coffeehouse setting. I love the rich dark roasts. And although I'm ashamed to admit it, I love the paper cup with the plastic lid and the cardboard wrap. I can own as many coffee cups as I like but when I get home on Saturday with a full cup of coffee in a paper cup, I'll refill that cup many times throughout the day with my home brewed coffee. I just love the lids and the shape. There is simply nothing like it in the durable cup market.

Or at least, that is what I thought. That is until I saw DCI's "I Am Not a Paper Cup" mug. DCI stands for Decor Craft Inc. I want this mug. It may look plain and white and boring but it has everything I love about buying my coffee at the coffee house. Except this one can be washed and reused. The cup itself is made out of porcelain. The lid, which is called "I Am Not a Plastic Lid", is made out of silicon. The whole cup is dishwasher safe, durable, and really cool looking. I own my share of coffee cups and travel mugs. but with prices anywhere from $10-$20, I'll consider it an investment for the environment. Saving paper goods never looked so good.

Early Fall

I'm sitting on the couch typing in front of my front window when I hear an odd sound. Particularly an odd sound for August. The leaves are rustling on the front patio. That's when I look up and realize that half the leaves in the tree are yellow. The trees at the other townhouses are the same way. All day the wind has been blowing strongly and the leaves are falling.

The summer has been one of the coolest on record. This July has not had one single day over 90 and we've had most of our nights below 60. There has been almost no rain and no serious storms to speak of. So I think the trees are confused and are heading into fall early. I know that I've been confused. I keep thinking it's September. My sweaters have not yet been packed away for the season. The office is constantly freezing. It simply doesn't seem like August.

With this said, I've been enjoying a little bit of outdoor time this weekend. Jeff and I went driving yesterday and found a new lake to explore. We got lost and discovered a beautiful new neighborhood with some incredible houses. We spent some time walking and just hanging out. And my big excitement for the weekend is a bird feeder. (Yeah I'm apparently old). I finally bought a feeder and hung it up yesterday. I've been avoiding buying one because of my mother. She feeds the birds, obsessively. It's a testament to her generosity but she carries it to a bit of an extreme. I don't want to get to that level. But I figure one won't hurt. Now I just need a bird to find it. I've been sitting in front of the window, playing on the laptop, and watching for the birds to arrive. I love Sundays. I just wish I didn't have to rake in August.