Stopping By the Woods...

...On a not so snowy evening.

I went out for a walk this afternoon. I've never had a regular exercise routine but I love to walk. It's something that I feel I could do for hours and still never get tired. I used to walk for an hour and still be just as refreshed as when I started. Most of the time I would walk fast, feeling my breath and heartbeat speed up. Nowdays I often go with a set of binoculars and a camera and most of the time I just stroll. I have a path not far from the house that is "far from the maddening crowd" and I headed that way. The moment you get away from the road the car noise drops to a minimum. It is peace incarnate.

I had a decent walk but my ankle still bothers me so I turned around after a half hour and headed for home. The route home is uphill and I was panting a little by the time I reached the top. I'm a bit out of shape lately. After I walked under the underpass, stopping to listen to the mourning doves that sound like monsters when echoed around the bridge, I headed up the last hill for home. But I didn't go in. Instead I headed straight for the creek. I sat down on the ravine edge, pulled my coat around me, and sat. It was relatively quiet. I could hear the birds and a distant squirrel chewing. Other than the occasional car (we live off a pretty busy street) all I could hear was the rushing of water and the wildlife.

It was the closest thing I've found to heaven. The air and ground were cold but after I got used to it, the temperature was just part of the moment. I sat and watched the woods get darker and darker. I could feel the moment when the temperature dropped as the sun went down. In one moment I went from snug to seeing my breath. But I still didn't go in. I just sat there, not really thinking, not really worrying, just sitting. It was meditation. It was bliss.

Why I Love Having a Cat

Just a random video of my kitty attempting to distract me from blogging. I love having her around. I know that there are about a billion cat videos out there. But this is different. This is my cat. ;-)

Poetry Friday

It's Friday and we are sitting on the edge of a snow storm. Nothing major but after the winter we've had, even the slightest snow feels like a betrayal. I have no reason to complain though. It's been the best January ever. Warm and dry. I've been in heaven.

Even with the nice weather I've been hibernating. I go home and make tea and curl up on the sofa to read. I have a stack of books at home from the library that I'm planning to get through this weekend. I can't seem to leave the library without at least a dozen. I'm reading at a frantic rate. It's been a blissful winter so far.

And today I stumbled on a poem that makes me smile. I figured I would share. It's right up my alley for obvious reasons.

My First Memory (of Librarians)
by Nikki Giovanni

This is my first memory:
A big room with heavy wooden tables that sat on a creaky wood floor
A line of green shades--banker's lightes--down the center
Heavy oak chairs that were too low or maybe I was simply too short
                For me to sit in and read
So my first book was always big

In the foyer up four steps a semi-circle desk presided
To the left side the card catalogue
On the right newspapers draped over what looked like a quilt rack
Magazines face out from the wall

The welcoming smile of my librarian
The anticipation in my heart
All those books--another world--just waiting
At my fingertips.

Eye Can Juggle

I know I posted this up on Facebook already but I figured I would share it here as well. I just finished my newest knitting project, a set of juggling balls. More specifically a set of juggling eyeballs. I'm pretty excited about them. We have a juggling convention in February up in the cities and I'm excited to show them off there.

I decided to make one of each color although you could knit all three the same if you'd like. I modified a Ravelry pattern to make them and then stuffed them with some small round pasta that I keep around the house. They aren't perfect (particularly not the blue one) but I'm excited to juggle with them.

I'll plan to post the pattern later tonight in case anyone wants to make a set. They are far easier than I expected.

Groupings

Jeff and I were recently in Iowa City and as I got out of the car at the gas station I was startled by the sound of birds. Lots of birds! Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" number of birds. The trees right next to the gas station were filled with hundreds and hundreds of starlings. I stood and listened to them for a while but a thought kept bothering me. I had just learned what a group of starlings was called. They have a special name, not just flock. It bothered me all the way home.

We have lots of specialized words for groups. Almost everyone knows that a group of fish is a school. Or a group of lions is a pride. But not as many know that a group of starlings is a murmuration. Or that a group of owls is a parliament. Luckily I have a handy reference guide, that my sweet little sister gave me. An Exaltation of Larks by James Lipton (yes, that James Lipton) is filled with group names. A leap of leopards, a pod of whales, a host of angels. Some are more common than others. Others are far stranger.

The moment I got home from our trip I picked up my book and flipped through until I found the starlings. The book has no index so it's more about browsing than just finding. It is organized from most common to ones created by Mr. Lipton himself. The groupings are interspersed with pictures. My sister had seen it in a used book store and had bought it knowing my love of words and trivia. It is a joy to look through if you like words and wordplay.  It's a gift that I've come to appreciate more and more.

Here are just a few more examples of interesting grouping names:
A Murder of Crows (one of my favorite grouping names)
A Siege of Herons
A Singular of Boars
A Charm of Finches
A Tiding of Magpies
A Clowder of Cats
And of course An Exaltation of Larks

By the way, if you've never seen starlings in their flocks, you need to see this. Starlings (as much as they are disliked) have some of the greatest flying displays ever.

Tom Kundig

Three weeks or so ago, I saw an article in the Wall Street Journal that caught my eye. The cover of the Personal Journal had the image below. I was instantly captivated. I'm a fan of architecture of all sorts but lately I've noticed that I'm becoming more and more of a modern architecture fan. There is something about the glass and metal that draws me. Perhaps it is the sparseness of the places. But I am particularly a fan of the mixing of modern architecture with the natural world. And this house (The Pierre) designed by architect Tom Kundig does that beautifully.

Kundig works for Olsen Kundig Architect firm in Seattle Washington. This sod-topped private residence is located on San Juan Islands, WA. It is a beautiful setting and the house blends in perfectly. So much of the house is worked into the rocks.

After finding this house I went looking for more of Kundig's work. And I found the room below. This is The Brain, a work studio created for a Seattle-based filmmaker. This is not the house, just the studio. The lights are suspended on pulleys so they can be raised and lowered to a desired light environment. With the glass walls and the bookcases, I am infatuated with this studio. I can't imagine a more perfect place to create.

I really enjoy Kundig's simple lines and use of natural materials. Below is the Delta Shelter, a cabin in Washington that is available for rental. If I had the money, I'd be the next on the list.

 And last there is the Chicken Point Cabin in Northern Idaho. This one is also available for rental. With a wall and a view like that, sign me up.

Here's Looking at You

So I have to share my scary story for the new year. I went to the eye doctor on Friday. Not the optometrist that I've been seeing to have my prescription changed, the "I think there might be an issue" ophthalmologist. I haven't been to my ophthalmologist in probably 10 years or so. My eyes had been good, only some minor prescription changes and I figured I was doing fine. Then Christmas rolled around. 

Jeff and I spent Christmas Eve with my parents, having dinner and just visiting. As we sat around the living room I decided that it was the perfect night to build a fire (they have a great woodburner that I love). So I wandered out into the dark backyard to get some wood. I found the woodpiles without too much trouble although it was dark. As I was bending over gathering the twigs, suddenly I saw a flash of light. A bright round flash of light. Like a circle in my field of vision. My eyes were open. I closed them and saw the same round glowing circle. 

Now I know what flashing lights in the eye mean. They mean a potential for a retinal tear. My mother had issues with flashers. My aunt had issues with flashers. Both had surgery to correct the issue. So a flashing light, no matter what shape is serious. This flash of light caught my breath. I was shaken. I went inside and pretended that nothing had happened though. I waited. And then I didn't say anything the next day. But each time I was in a dark place I would see the ring. Finally, right after the new year I was freaked out enough to make an appointment. On Friday I went in and had a complete work-up. Full dilation, full exam. He even did some specialized tests. Nothing. Absolutely nothing wrong. I can relax.

For those of you who know me, you know how scary this was for me. For the rest of you, I'll explain. I was born with a defect. A stray artery (called the hyaloid artery) that was supposed to disappear when I was born, didn't disappear. Instead it stretched and ripped a hole in the back of my eye, right at my retina. I have a retinal detachment, in a relatively bad spot. The tear took with it my central vision. I have good peripheral but no central vision at all. What that means is that I'm legally blind in that eye. The ring I was seeing was in my other eye (the good eye). If that one had detached I wouldn't be typing this. I wouldn't be able to read it. I would be legally blind. Not completely blind but enough to change my life forever, in a bad way. I would have to learn braille. I wouldn't be able to drive. I wouldn't be able to do my job. 

And that scared me. I thought about how hard it would be to not be able to just pick up any book I want. I thought about how hard it would be to not see what I was writing. I thought about how hard it would be to get around without being able to drive. As I type this I close my good eye and see how well it would go. The red line under my misspelling doesn't even show up in my vision. Easy writing would be a thing of the past. All that said I know that there are people out there who are completely blind and they lead normal happy otherwise healthy lives. I know that I'm blessed with this one eye, that has done double duty since I was born. I know that my story came out good and I'm healthy. I still see the ring but I'm not as worried. But for a moment I was, and because of it, I treasure the sight that I have all the more. 

Finding Books

This....

is a bookstore. That magnificent place sells books. I originally thought it was a library or an auction house. But no, that's a bookstore. That, more specifically is the Lello Bookstore in Porto, Portugal.

This...

is also a bookstore. When I saw this I was sure that it was not. I've seen libraries that look similar. And have never seen any place as common as a bookstore that looked that grand. But then I realized my fallacy. Libraries aren't necessarily grand (I've seen some pretty plain ones) and bookstores aren't necessarily boring (I've seen some fun ones). So why are these bookstores so surprising for me.

I spent part of an afternoon looking at Google Images of bookstores. Try it sometime. There are some pretty incredible ones. And some pretty fun ones. Like this one in Mexico City (this is the Polanco branch of El Pendulo bookstore).

I scrolled through image after image savoring all the different types of bookstores. I clicked on a photo and found this linked list of Most Interesting Bookstores in the World as part of my search. And that's where I found it. My favorite bookstore. Shakespeare and Company in Paris is listed as one of the most photographed bookstores in the world. I can understand why. That is my quintessential bookstore image now. Nothing else will ever live up. Of course I'm not giving up. I'll keep trying to find something more perfect. Isn't that what bibliophilia is all about?

[Writers note: For those interested, Shakespeare and Company is (and has been) one of the foremost centers of all things literature in Paris. In December the long time owner of the store passed away. I read his obituary without ever having seen the bookstore itself. I'm even more saddened by his death now.]

Inside of Shakespeare and Company

Happy Martin Luther King Jr Day

Today I'm letting the great man speak for me. He does it so much more eloquently than I can.

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where  he stands in times of challenge and controversy. The true neighbor will risk his position, his prestige, and even his life for the welfare of others."
Martin Luther King Jr-- Strength to Love

"If you can't fly then run, if you can't run than walk, if you can't walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward."

"Never, never be afraid to do what's right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society's punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way."


"If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.'"

And lastly one of my favorite quotes. A breathtakingly simple bit of optimism. "Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree."

Ticket to Ride

Apparently my "Art of Disappearing" post was spot on. I put the poem up and then promptly disappear. I blinked and missed the week. Or completely ignored it. Today I took ten minutes away from my book and realized that it's been almost a week since I last posted anything. Which is a bit amazing because I've kept gathering topics on little post-its all week.

But the first thing I have to tell you about is the game that Jeff and I have been addicted to all week. Last Saturday I wasn't feeling great (due to stupidity on my part) and spent most of the day lounging around the house. I napped, I watched TV, and I annoyed Jeff (so not a terrible day ;-) ) After spending most of the day indoors Jeff wanted to know if I would go out with him to the games store. We had a gift card that was apparently burning a hole in his pocket. That sounded great to me.

We browsed the shelves of strategy games like kids in a candy store. I haven't played a ton of the strategy games but I've enjoyed every one I've gotten the chance to play (okay mostly...Primordial Soup just wasn't my thing). It came down to a choice between Shadows Over Camelot (thanks Keith) or Ticket to Ride (thanks Vicky). The only reason we went with Ticket to Ride is that it allowed for two player games. Jeff and I brought the game home, cracked it open and after reading up, played our first game. Then played another. And another. The next night we broke it out again for a couple more games. Last night we took it over to my parent's house to teach them. To say that we're addicted is a bit of an understatement.

Ticket to Ride is a train strategy game. At the beginning of the game you draw routes across the US and Canada that you are supposed to try to complete (New York to El Paso, Montreal to Vancouver, Duluth to Houston, etc). Each of those routes is made up of smaller city connections like Chicago to Omaha or El Paso to Phoenix.  To collect a route you need to save the appropriate number and color of train cards and then when you have enough you lay your own colored train cars down to claim the route. Routes between cities can be anywhere from a single car to six cars. For each train car you put down you get points and for each route you complete you get points. And in the end the longest continuous route gets points.

While not as strategic as Agricola or as difficult to win as Pandemic, this game is addictive. With 30 something long routes and numerous ways to make the connections you are constantly planning. Jeff and I enjoyed the game with just two but having four made it a bit more challenging. You can play as aggressive or as defensive as you like. But in the end you come away planning how you could have done things better or marveling at a route that came together at the last minute. My coworker Vicky mentioned it as a fun game. It'd go farther. I'd say it's my current favorite game.

Let Me In

It's picture day. I haven't bothered to write a post today, although I have tons of things to talk about. And nearly 11 p.m. is not the time for me to start writing. So instead I'm just sharing a picture. This is from the winter zoo trip my sister and I took last year. I love this shot. He seems so intent on getting in, out of the snow. He wouldn't have to worry about that this year.

Big Bang Theory

A while ago I wrote about my love for geeky men. I'm the one drooling over the guy in glasses playing D&D until all odd hours. Dressing up as a Klingon for a convention is actually a plus rather than a minus. Most geeks I know are passionate about things and that's incredibly attractive. And so of course I've started watching The Big Bang Theory. And have completely lost my mind over the show. 

I'm late to the party as usual. The show already has five seasons under it's belt and I've just started watching. When it first came out, everyone raved. I knew people who wouldn't go out on Mondays so they could catch it. It was all the rage. So of course I refused to watch. It has only been since the reruns have started in syndication that I've become hooked on the show. Okay not hooked, addicted. Obsessed. I watch numerous episodes a night and am still disappointed when the programming changes. I've been debating buying whole seasons even if I haven't seen half of the episodes (rare for me). It's just so cleverly written. The dialogue sparkles, the retorts are witty, the jokes are funny, and the cast is just fantastic. Even the science is good (so good I have to look things up a lot). 

 And of course I love the boys. Not just because of the rounds of Klingon Boggle or Halo nights. Or because of the way they are passionate about their work. I love their geekiness. Their comic-loving, cosplay-dressing, board-gaming playing selves. I have a mad crush on Leonard although that doesn't surprise me since I had a crush on Johnny Galecki when he was on Rosanne years ago. Nothing has changed there. Except the glasses are a little better and the clothes are definitely better. But what startles me is how much I adore Sheldon. He's meant to be irritating. He's meant to be frustrating. And yet I still find his odd idiosyncrasies adorable. And I find his arrogance hot. I'm not sure why. Perhaps that odd mix of arrogance and fragility makes me want to protect and throttle him at the same time. Either way I know that eventually I'll buy at least one or two of the seasons. It's too good not to own. And watch over and over. I'm a geek after all. 

Poetry Friday

I disappear sometimes. Like a magician, I make myself invisible to the world outside. I hide at home, in books, and don't return phone calls. All of my sisters do this occasionally. We get used to each others disappearances. The important thing is that we always find our way back. We always reappear.

The Art of Disappearing
by Naomi Shihab Nye

When they say Don't I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to a party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?

It's not that you don't love them anymore.
You're trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven't seen in ten years
appears at your door.
don't start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

Imperfection

I've never claimed to be perfect. In fact, I'm not even a perfectionist. Jeff will rip out his knitting over and over and over until he has it perfect. If I find an error in my work I'll go back and fix it if the solution is easy. Otherwise I'm more than happy to just accept that there will be issues with my knitting project. My current mittens (my first pair) have one thumb that is inside out. I still wear them, mostly proudly.

So why is it that when I come to other creative work (writing, drawing, painting) or dieting, I expect myself to be perfect. I sit down to write, put one sentence on the screen, and instantly erase it because the words aren't perfect. I write half a story and then stop because so far it hasn't been the masterpiece I'm looking for. I draw images of small furry animals and then instantly erase them because they aren't perfect re-creations. It's frustrating.

And I'm even worse when it comes to dieting. In November I started writing my food choices down again. I'm trying to stay under an 1800 calorie diet. And most of the time it works well. I'm feeling better, I'm eating better. I've even started walking three to four days a week. And some days I go over calories. And it is a constantly struggle every time it happens not to give up and just eat whatever I want. I have to remind myself to just restart the next day. I'm demanding perfection of myself and that's not fair. No one is perfect. So my first drawings won't be masterpieces, my first drafts will be terrible, and each day I may or may not stay within my calorie limit. The important thing is that I keep trying, imperfections and all. Now if I could only remember that.

Kipling's Mongoose

I read The Jungle Books at a young age. I was probably ten or so when I discovered Kipling's world of wolves, tigers, snakes, and man-cubs. Of friendly panthers and troublesome villagers. And of course the poetry. It was the poetry that stayed with me the most. Shortly after reading the story of Mowgli, I had memorized the opening poem.

"Now Rann the Kite brings home the night
that Mang the Bat sets free.
The herds are shut in byre and hut
for loosed till dawn are we.
This is the hour of pride and power
of talon and tusk and claw.
Oh hear the call--good hunting all
Who keep the jungle law."

I'm not sure why the poem stuck with me but it did. I enjoy Kipling. I know that his reputation in the last couple decades has slipped. He seems antiquated with his colonial views. But he was a master with words. I was reminded of how good when I stumbled on the animated film of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, a Chuck Jones cartoon that I'd loved as a child. And of course I had read Kipling's story as part of The Jungle Books. I watched the cartoon and then went back to read the story. Like How The Grinch Stole Christmas, Chuck Jones stayed incredibly true to the source material. Most of the dialogue and all of the narration are taken directly from the story. Even the Tailorbird's song is faithfully reproduced. The only thing missing is the opening poem. I had tried to memorize the poem years ago. And when I re-read the story I remembered why. It is wonderful.

For reference Red-Eye is Rikki because of his red eyes before striking. Wrinkle-Skin is Nag, the cobra.

At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
'Nag, come up and dance with death!'

Eye to eye and head to head,
       (Keep the measure, Nag)
This shall end when one is dead;
       (At thy pleasure, Nag.)
Turn for turn and twist for twist--
       (Run and hide thee, Nag.)
Hah! The hooded Death has missed!
       (Woe betide thee, Nag.)