Accidents

I'm writing this post through tears. I have a box of tissues right at my side and I'm using them. Not because I'm sad but because I managed to cut my eye this afternoon and it won't stop hurting or tearing up. I was opening a ziploc bag this afternoon with one hand. So I clutched the other end in my teeth. At least until it slipped and cut straight across my eyeball. I said some very choice words and instantly pull my hand over my eye. When I could see through the tears I realized that I still had my sight so no need to go to the ER. But the recovery is a tad frustrating. Every time I move my eyeball it hurts. Every time I blink it hurts. And every time it tears up, my nose starts to run.

That got me thinking about accidents and injuries. I've spent most of my life worrying about accident. Things that could go wrong to get me injured. I stress about car accidents, plane crashes, and falls. I've worried about every type of injury possible it seems like. But I've realized that the things that do go wrong, most often aren't things that you think about. I could never have predicted I'd cut my eye on a bag. I never would have guessed most of the injuries that have happened to me in life. Accidents are just that. Things that go wrong that you wouldn't even begin to prepare for. And that makes me wonder why I worry. Unless it's about ziploc bags, my new enemy.

Foxy Lady

I've been an animal lover since I was a very small child. I love to be around pets and wild animals. I spent a good chunk of my childhood in zoos, at least when I wasn't reading about animals. Some days I think I like animals more than people. At least some days. And I love photos of animals.

One of the sites I follow on Facebook is Wild for Wildlife and Nature, which posts pictures numerous times a day. So many of the images are wonderful but I've noticed a trend recently that got me thinking. I've only saved a couple of images but a majority of them recently have been foxes. I'm drawn to the images of this shy elusive creature and I'm not sure why. Of course they are cute but so are many other animals. Why this creature?

A fox and a cat who've become inseparable friends

I've see them twice. The first was almost 15 years ago. I was waiting in my car at work to be let into the building. It was 5 in the morning. As I sat there, half drowsing I saw a blur through the windshield. I looked up to see a red fox darting across my path along a major road. I remember being thrilled. The second was just a couple months ago. Jeff and I were driving home when one came loping through the dark past us into the woods. Two fleeting glimpses in a lifetime of a magical animal.

So I read up a bit on the symbology of the fox. Foxes are crafty but aloof creatures. They are good at eluding people and predators. They are crafty at finding their way out of traps. Most of the totem pages say that they show the way through difficult confusing situations to places of simplicity. When I read that, a lightbulb came on. Work has been a difficult place recently. The politics are intense and often changable. And I'm not a good player. I find myself longing for a way to escape them, or at least navigate them. And suddenly I'm back to the fox.

 The man rescued the fox when it was a kit and raised it by hand.

Now I'm not a huge believer in totems or animals as symbols but it seems strange that I'm suddenly fascinated by foxes right now rather than before. I'm reading up on their calls (creepy sounding). I'm paying attention to their hunting habits and their family structure. I'm enraptured with them. I don't know if it has to do with my work politics or if I've just moved on to a new animal to learn about. Whatever it is, I couldn't help but share these pictures.

Snow Cream

I can't remember if I've posted this recipe before but it's so good that it's worth posting again.

On Monday the weather stations were reporting that we would get 1 to 3 inches of snow on Tuesday. In the Midwest that's certainly not enough snow to cancel school over or really to take seriously. So I wasn't worried about it. When I went to leave for work Tuesday morning it was just starting to come down. I still wasn't thinking hard about it. But 10 minutes into my commute, when I could hardly see the stoplight a block away I was starting to think that it might be something more. By the time we had two inches on the ground they had changed the forecast. Now it was 3 to 6. Still not bad. By noon it was 5 to 9. And the snow kept coming.

The snow finally stopped at about noon today. We had over 24 hours of snow and ended up with about...11 inches. A far cry from 1 to 3 inches don't you think. When I would look at the radar there was Des Moines, right in the middle of swirling vortex of snow. Even worse, the storm was shifting mostly west. Storms that come from the east are never good. What I'm saying is that it's been a frustrating couple of days. At least for a snow/winter hater like me.

The one good thing to come out of the snow was that we finally got a chance to make snow cream. Jeff introduced me to snow cream when we were first dating and since then I've been a fan. We didn't have enough snow last year for any but most years we have at least one snow that is perfect for the recipe. You need a wetter snow, preferably big flakes. Dry snow won't work.

Set a soup pot outside during a big snow storm. You'll want it at least half full of snow. Then add 2 eggs (raw), 1 cup sugar (at least), 1/2 cup milk, and 2 tsp vanilla. Stir together until snow has a beautiful  pale yellow color. Spoon into bowls and eat immediately. It's sugary sweet goodness, even better than ice cream.

For those of you who are panicking about the raw eggs right now, this dish might not be for you. I'm a long time eater of cookie dough with raw eggs, so this doesn't even phase me. One of these years I might get Salmonella from them. But until I do, I'll still continue to eat raw eggs in my sweet treats.

On the Hunt

I've been reading a lot of books recently about book collecting. While I don't collect in a traditional sense, with one eye on price tag, I buy books that I love or that interest me. And I could see myself eventually becoming a collector. I certainly understand the urge. I'd collect picture books, and perhaps versions of Alice in Wonderland or The Wind and the Willows. That might be inexhaustible.

I don't often pay attention to cost of books but there are a few that are on my radar that amaze me with their prices. A decade ago I spent $80 or so to buy a children's book for my sister called The Sugar Mouse Cake. This sweet tale by Gene Zion is about a boy who gets help from a mouse to bake the most beautiful cake in the kingdom for the king. I've read it a couple times but it was one of my sister's favorites. It's also incredibly rare and valuable. Currently prices range from $70 for an old library copy to $480 for a decent worn but unmarked one. I've only seen ex-library copies. That year my sister wound up with two.

The second book I've been looking for is purely for nostalgic purposes but so far its rarity has made it a tough find. As a kid I liked mysteries and none were more loved than the Detective Mole series by Robert Quackenbush. My favorite of those was Detective Mole and the Secret Clues, where our deerhunter-capped, trenchcoat-wearing main character has to find the clues that will help the duck family inherit their uncle's mansion. The house had a dumbwaiter and secret passages. It, like another series I just read, had a very important sugar bowl. I loved this book. There are three used copies on Amazon right now, none for under $300. Abebooks, my favorite place to shop used rare books, has a couple copies but most are pretty worn sounding, at least the ones in my price range.

 And I could do more to shop online but for me that takes some of the fun away. Half of the fun is the hunt. I remember hunting for years for a copy of The Hungry Thing by Jan Slepian. When I finally found it, I grabbed the book out of the dusty box and clutched it to my chest. Of all the books I came home with that day, that was the one I treasured the most. The search had made the book even sweeter. I read it occasionally but I think most of my desire was to own it, to find it. I'm sure that the others will be the same way. Hunting is much better than just buying. For all you collectors out there, happy hunting.

Emilie

For those of you who don't know I'm one of five children. The oldest and youngest are boys and the middle three are girls. I'm the middle child and the middle girl. I'm blessed to have wonderful siblings who I adore. We all get along well when we get together, even if we didn't always when growing up. My childhood was wonderful because of them. But it would be really hard to tell the story of my life without my little sister. Emilie, this is for you.

My little sister's birthday is tomorrow and I've been thinking about her all week. I was two years old when my little sister was born. Almost from the beginning Em and I shared a room. From before I can remember to turning 16 I shared a space with my sister. Of course we used to fight like cats and dogs. Sharing a room may be one of the worst things for siblings. Em and I, although most of the time we got along wonderfully, fought bitterly about the room. I'll admit that I was messy, and probably annoying to live with. We'd divide the room down the middle frequently but she always got the bathroom and the door, so I was at a disadvantage. I remember how excited I was to move to my own room at 16.

Sisters Exploring the World Together

Fast forward...um...many years and I can't think of another person (outside of Jeff) that I'd rather spend time with. I adore my sister. She's one of the most positive and energizing people I've ever spent time with. She is curious, intelligent, kind, peaceful, and wonderful. She has been my constant champion in all my endeavors and I can't thank her enough for that. She teaches me something every time we get together and she inspires me. Every time I see her I wish we had more time to spend. She's often busy but we still get together. She works two jobs and is going to school. I couldn't be prouder of her. She's not just a wonderful little sister but she's a lovely person.

My lovely sisters (me, Emilie, and Alissa)

Tonight I went through all my old photos to see if I can find pictures of the two of us. We were often dressed alike and treated like twins. My parents referred to us as "the girls". They bought us matching toys and clothes. I found pictures of that. But the big thing I noticed was the smile that my sister flashes in all of her pictures. And the smile that gave me. I'm lucky to have a little sister like her. I'm lucky to get to spend time with her. And even though we didn't always get along, I'm lucky that I got to grow up right next to her. I love you little sis!

Isn't that smile wonderful?

Westeros

I woke up this morning with the name Westeros in my head. That shouldn't scare me so much except that the place doesn't exist, outside of five books and an HBO series. George R. R. Martin has held me captive for almost four months. I've read all five of the Song of Ice and Fire books back to back to back to back to back. I've watched almost no TV except for the first and half of the second season of the HBO series. Names like Arya and Tyrion come to mind faster than over half of my coworkers. To say that I've been a bit addicted is like saying that Houdini was a bit of a magician.

Last night I read the last word that has been written so far. I have five episodes left to watch before I'm forced to wait like the rest of the world for my Westeros fix. I'm sure Jeff will be happy to hear that I'm done for a while. This is all he's been hearing about for month. I talk about the Starks at dinner as if I'm sharing gossip about our friends. I'm trying to get him to watch the HBO series so I can discuss it with him (so far he's resisted). I have friends that I discuss the books with and I've been peppering them with questions and speculations for a while. It's really been a journey.

As I closed the book last night I had mixed emotions. I have no more Westeros to read (at least until the next book comes out). I'll miss these characters. I'll admit I was sad to see the series go. And at the same time I breathed a sigh of relief. I have books waiting to be read. I have stacks of stories that call to me. I even have library books that will need to be returned...soon. And for the last four months I've read almost nothing but Martin's words. I think I'm ready to take a break. I stopped reading series for a while. Now I remember the reason. Deep character development is wonderful, but I'm ready for a bit more variety. Now to tackle the stacks.

Vivamus atque amemus

As Catullus says, "Let us Live and Love".

Happy Valentine's Day all!. I don't really celebrate the holiday the way Hallmark wants me to but I do like a bit of love in my February. I think the world always needs a bit more love. So tonight I'll read Neil Gaiman's twisted Harlequin Valentine short story and I'll break out a bit of poetry. A friend of mine got me started with the great Roman love poems. Here is the famous (perhaps infamous) love poet Catullus with Poem 5.

Let us live my Lesbia and love
and value at one penny
all the talk of stern old men
Suns can set and rise again
we, when once our brief light has set
must sleep one never ending night

Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred 
then a second thousand, then a second hundred
then yet another thousand then a hundred
Then when we have made up many thousands
we will wreck the count
least we know it or
any devil have power to cast an evil eye upon us
when he knows the total of our kisses.

Original Latin:
Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum severiorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis!
soles occidere et redire possunt:
nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
nox est perpetua una dormienda.
da mi basia mille, deinde centum,
dein mille altera, dein secunda centum,
deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum.
dein, cum milia multa fecerimus,
conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus,
aut ne quis malus inuidere possit,
cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

Why I Have Cats on my Wall

Above is the picture that hangs above my fireplace in the living room. I normally wouldn't put cats up on my wall but this painting is special. It's an original oil painting done by Jeff's grandfather. Jeff's father's father to be exact. I've seen a number of his paintings and they are all good. I never got a chance to meet the man, he died before Jeff's parents were even married. But I've spent time in his workshop and I was stunned by his talent. This man was not only a painter (a rather good one in my opinion) but he was a wood carver, a zither player, and a carpenter. His workshop was in the basement of a house in downtown St. Louis. A house that Jeff's grandfather helped build. I'm amazed by his energy, by his various interests. I wish I'd had a chance to meet him. I bet I would have liked him.

P.S. I'll see if I can find a picture of him. Ignore the silly stockings on the wall.

The World is Quiet Here

{Spoilers in this post. If you have any interest in reading A Series of Unfortunate Events, this is not for you}

The first time I read A Bad Beginning, the first book in the series A Series of Unfortunate Events, I hated it. I didn't understand the author's brand of humor and his constant definitions drove me crazy. I chocked it up to "not my taste" and put it away. Then I picked it up again this past year and loved it. I read every one of the 13 books. I couldn't stop talking about them. I loved the humor. I loved the characters. I loved the definitions. But most of all I loved the VFD.

The concept of a secret society that for lack of a better word fights crime appeals to me. Even better a secret society that uses knowledge to do it, whatever form that knowledge takes. The title of this post is the VFD's motto. It hung above their library, a safe place in a chaotic world. They are a society that values learning, that values creativity, that values curiosity. The idea is inspiring to me. For me the tales of the Baudelaire orphans were more about learning how much power they had through their curiosity and knowledge.

Klaus, the reader and scholar, is who I identified with, but each of the characters has their own strengths. Klaus's ability remember the things he reads, his unrelenting curiosity, his copious note-taking, are all things I admire. He's the bookworm of the three and I saw myself in his role. I'm not an inventor like Violet or a cook/biter like Sunny. But I can read and remember with the best of them. As Klaus stood in that burned library and read the words above the door, I had chills go through me. Partly they were about the burned library (horrific) but partly they were because I'd found a motto I could agree with.

The world is quiet here, is what I think every time I walk into my own personal library. Here I can learn and study and be at peace, away from the stress of the world. I want to paint it above my door. I want to tattoo it on my skin. Curiosity and knowledge are two things I value very highly. How wonderful to find the same value in a children's book series.

Happy Hunting

There's something special about wildlife encounters. Every time I see a deer crossing the road or a bunny eating grass at twilight I get a little thrill. And then when it is a bigger more elusive animal, it's even more magical. I've seen a porcupine in a tree, a fox one morning before work, pheasants crossing the road, and even a wolf. And each time I stop whatever I'm doing and just watch. I like to say that spending time with wildlife and nature is the closest feelings I have to a religion. Bird, mammal, even insect encounters can feel like magic to me.

I've had two hawk encounters at home in the last couple months. The first was when I noticed a ground squirrel making an alarm call on the patio. The chipmunk alarm call is loud, loud enough that you have no idea how such a small creature makes such an intense, and irritating, noise. I went to the window to see the little guy sitting on top of my air conditioner, calling away. I was curious about what had alarmed him, until a hawk walked around the side of the air conditioner. Walked. It was already on the ground hunting the chipmunk. But sadly the little bugger had eluded him. We tried to get pictures of this huge (and beautiful) bird just standing on the patio but before we could snap a picture he noticed Jeff and was gone.

See how close I am       ^

The second encounter was just this past weekend. For anyone who's a Facebook friend you've already seen one of these pictures. On Saturday I'm sitting on the couch knitting when all of a sudden Jeff gasps. Then tells me, in a low whisper, to look to my right. Sitting on the patio fence is this beautiful hawk. He's alternating watching us and watching the mice that I keep unfortunately attracting to the feeder. There are several of them below him but he's taking his time to hunt. Jeff grabbed the camera and this bird was far more accomodating than the previous one. He sat for about 25 minutes, watching the mice, debating an attack. All the while we snapped photos and video. It was only when my neighbors left to go out that he flew away. I was less than 10 feet away from this bird. I was able to watch him at leisure. It was such a fantastic moment. I only wish he had managed to get one of the mice. Before they find their way in. Wildlife encounters are wonderful...in the wild. Not in the house.

[Edit: I forgot about Jeff's encounter in mid-summer with the bird below. He/she landed on the fence and mantled there. Then after a while it dropped to the ground to spread its wings further. I wonder if most of these encounters are the same bird. The stomach banding is the same. The bird below (the earlier one taken) has yellow eyes, but hawks eyes often darken as they age. I wonder if we are seeing our juvenile all grown up. 

Forgetting Practicality

I'm dealing right now with a creative block that is far more extreme than any of the ones I've had before. I'm letting my work situation and my fears about the future get the best of me. And sadly whenever I sit down to write I keep thinking about money. "If this won't pay the bills, aren't I just wasting my time?" is the question that plagues me. And it instantly kills whatever I was going to write, or create.

I've always been a practical person. Given the choice of a car, I'll always pick the dependable one. I look at the consequences of every single one of my decisions. And I keep falling back on words I heard a lot as a child, how will you make a living as a writer? Those questions dug into my psyche and wedged there. For the last couple years I've been so focused on paying the bills, that I've forgotten about writing. It doesn't help the bottom line, after all.

What I've also forgotten is how much I used to love just making things up for the fun of it. I used to do it all the time. I still tell myself stories in the car and find it far more entertaining than any music on the radio. I love stories and storytelling. And I miss them. This week I'm going to start stories again.  I'm going to play with words and write down ideas. It won't be good writing, but it'll be writing. And I bet it will make me happy. I need to remind myself that anything that makes me happy is worthwhile. Anything that sparks my interest and soul is worth pursuing. I might never sell a story or a poem. But I will start enjoying myself. Which is more than I have been doing.

"The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."
~Kurt Vonnegut

Playing with Pictures

For my birthday this past year I asked for a camera I could carry around in my pocket. As I'm still technologically backwards when it comes to phones, I don't have anything on me that would take pictures that I could then download. My poor ancient cell phone takes pictures but has no way to transfer them. So I wanted a small camera that still took good photos.

My parents bought me the Canon Elph 530HS. I honestly can't remember a birthday present I'm more excited about. I find that I'm taking pictures of things just for the sake of playing with it. This camera has a number of setting that allow me to take tilt-shift photos, fisheye photos, and other gimmicky shots. It also offers video and slow motion video. Just the basic setting takes pictures that are ten time brighter and better than the ones from my old camera. I love my new toy.

Two weeks ago I took the camera out to play with the Snow setting. Since it's Iowa in winter, I didn't have to look far to find snow. Above is the view of the creek right outside our door. Lovely with the snow isn't it? The shots are crisp and bright. But the real advantage of the new camera is the zoom. Note the area across the creek, under the branch on the right. Here is the zoomed in photo. Aren't those cool snow structures? I wouldn't have seen them if it wasn't for the zoom. It's as good as some binoculars I own. And the photos are still crisp.

I took the camera to all of my family events last week. I took video and photos and only had one or two that came out badly, a sharp contrast to my previous camera. With that one, I would be lucky to have one or two that came out. Something like the picture below would never have come out.

I'll leave you with one last picture. It's of the newest guest to visit my bird feeder, a less than welcome guest. Hint: It's not the squirrel. Jeff had to forcibly remove it from our garage this afternoon. It's becoming more and more of a frequent visitor so I might have to end up doing something. We'll have to wait and see.

Poetry Friday

I've been reading a lot of  Billy Collins lately. And I mean a lot. Collins writes perfect poems to read when you don't have a lot of time and want to dip in occasionally. I have a copy of his Sailing Alone Around the Room on my dining room table. I pick it up when I have a moment, open to a random page and fall into Collins world. He's a poet that mixes humor and poignancy. When I read his work, I'm transported to a calmer more enjoyable world, normally his house. His focus on home resonates with me. I just love his work. But I probably shouldn't explain so much about it. As he points out in this poem, we often think too hard about poetry.

Introduction to Poetry
by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a rubber hose
to find out what it really means.

Thinking of Diving

The first time I dove, anywhere besides a pool, I nearly panicked. I was 35 feet down in perfect crystal clear water off the Turks and Caicos islands, when I realized I was all by myself. My sister was slowly coming down the anchor chain. My older sister and the instructor were still at the surface. I was all alone. And my only thought was...surface...surface...surface. Scuba divers are taught that the worst possible thing they can do is shoot to the surface (it's the fast track to the bends). But that was the only thing in my mind. It felt weird to be on the sandy bottom looking up. It didn't feel natural. I worried that I wasn't breathing. I took a deep breath and worried that I couldn't breathe. It didn't make sense. Then I did the strangest thing. I took my mask off.

It was my first instinct other than shooting to the surface. Instead I pulled my mask off and put it back on. I cleared it. I checked my pressure gauge. I checked my depth gauge. And then I knelt quietly in the sand and waited for the rest of my group. And I was fine after that. I used the routines that I'd been taught to steady my nerves. And once that initial moment was over I started to enjoy. I was diving in some of the prettiest water I'd ever seen. There was coral everywhere along with fish and sponges. I even saw a barracuda that first dive. I wasn't completely comfortable but I wasn't anxious. I loved that first dive and the ones after it. I still get nervous before every dive. I have a horrible fear of drowning. But I love the colors and the wildlife. I love the sound of bubbles rising. I love the feeling of weightlessness where nothing but my own breath (and my buddy's) is important.

The first fish I saw underwater

It's been a couple years since I last dove. I herniated a disc diving and haven't been since. But this past weekend I finished reading a fascinating history of diving and memoir and have been thinking about getting back in the water again. I'm no longer too nervous to dive and the experience is so worth the fear. There are underwater worlds to discover, and I know that I've been trained well enough that I can enjoy them safely. When the summer comes, I'll be back in the water, ready to dive.

Happy New Year!

I'm sitting in the middle of a messy house, eating chocolates left over from Christmas, and wondering what I'm going to resolve for 2013. I like New Years. I'm a fan of beginnings. They seem so filled with promise. And I love resolutions. Not accomplishing them really. Just thinking them up. I'm good at thinking them up. This year, I'm resolving to be more mindful. More awake. Oh and to blog more.

I've been on vacation for the last 10 days and much of it was spent with family. My older brother and his family came in town from Christmas day until that Friday. I spent Christmas Eve with my parents and then every day from Christmas up until Friday with my brother and his family. I was home on Friday, outside of meeting some friends for drinks. On Saturday, my little brother and his fiancee came into town. I spent Saturday night and all day Sunday with them. I had planned to spend part of the day yesterday with them but I woke up feeling odd. I wanted to hermit up. So I read all day yesterday. I read until past midnight, the kind of New Years that only I can get behind. I loved staying in while everyone else was out celebrating. It was wonderful.

Today I'm relaxing with a cup of tea. I spent part of the morning outside scraping ice from the driveway. I keep talking about buying a rowing machine to lose weight when all I really need is a shovel, an ice scraper, and some persistent ice. I worked for about 30 minutes with no luck. But I worked up quite the sweat. Now I'm catching up on my email, blogs, and planning out my 2013. I have plans I tell you. Big plans. Here's to a wonderful New Year! I hope you have a wonderful coming year filled with big plans and exciting things.