3 Weekends in 3 Paragraphs

I'm going to try to fill in the gaps of the last three weeks using only my weekends. My weeks have been nothing but work and writing but my weekends have been filled. The weekend of May 12th and 13th included the culmination of three years of very hard work for Jeff. He graduated as an actuary that weekend. To celebrate, Jeff's parents came in to visit. We spent Saturday at the Farmers Market, shopping, and then having dinner and playing games with my parents. Sunday was the graduation and then we spent the evening at my parents house to celebrate mother's day with both mothers. My parents cooked steaks and we had a wonderful feast. Both sets of parents, both of my sisters, and Jeff and I spent the rest of the afternoon eating, talking, and playing games. It was a fantastic weekend. I couldn't be prouder of Jeff. He's worked very hard in school and I was proud to see him walk across that stage.

Jeff's parents left Monday morning and on Friday morning Jeff and I jumped in the car to head south. My nephew Callen was celebrating his first birthday and his parents were throwing him a party. We got down to St. Louis just in time for dinner and then a movie with Jeff's parents. The next day was the party. There were quite a few people there, including some family I hadn't seen in awhile. They provided lunch and then cake. Callen got his own cake to destroy and eat. Below is one of my favorite pictures from the day, although the picture I got of the cake in his bellybutton is right up there. After cake we relaxed on the front lawn, talking and sitting in the shade. Callen wasn't terribly excited about opening presents so we helped out a bit. And then had dinner. It was one of the most relaxing afternoons I'd had in a while. The next day we had breakfast with everyone and then headed home.

This last weekend was of course the long holiday weekend. Friday night I left work for join my brother, his family, and my parents for dinner. We sat and chatted after dinner until late. The next day we met for some shopping and lunch on the patio at PF Chang's. While sitting there, a heron landed at the pond. We all had a wonderful lunch and then some book shopping (my favorite). After lunch we headed to my parent's house for nerf wars, sidewalk chalk, and fun. I have a blast playing with my nephews and niece. I got shot with nerf darts, started a pretend bakery with my niece, and decorated my parent's driveway. The next day was lunch at a taco place in town, then I went to the theaters with everyone to see Avengers. The movie was incredible. I loved the humor and the dialogue. Joss Whedon is a genius. It was one of the first action movies I've seen where the banter was not only good but actually overrode the action. It was hilarious. I hadn't been to a theater in years but this was worth seeing on the big screen. After dinner that night my brother and his family left to head home. I spent Monday reading and Tuesday at the golf course with Jeff. Four days of fun. I came back to work relaxed and refreshed. These last three weekends have been busy but wonderful. And those are my last three weekends. Trust me, my work week have been much less interesting.

Little Wonders

I'm listening to Rob Thomas's song Little Wonders on repeat on my computer. It's my third time through. I think I'm trying to force the message into my head. It's Memorial Day. Jeff is out golfing and I keep flitting from thing to thing. I keep feeling that I should be productive. In fact I always feel like I should be productive. One of the stupid parts of my practical (some say too practical) nature. So today I'm reminding myself that it is all about those small quiet hours that make me so happy. And instead of being practical and productive I'm sitting on the front porch with a good dark beer and my notebook jotting down any silly thing that comes into my head. It feels good.

But I know that I've been shirking my blog. It had started to feel like work. And I don't want that. I have a billion or so posts to write (I might be give to hyperbole) but for today, I will just leave you with this. Happy start of summer. Remember that it's all about those small sweet moments.

Random

I'm apparently having a bit of trouble focusing. My last post was just random things I've learned last week. The previous post was about why I wasn't posting. And this post is most likely going to be a set of random things that are striking me this evening. So without further ado, here's my brain.

I worked out the last two nights instead of blogging. Yesterday I worked out so intensely that I was dripping with sweat. Literally dripping. Ewww huh? I took a quick shower last night and then dropped into bed. Even with the warm room and the outside noise I slept like a baby. This morning I woke up and was wide awake instantly. I bounded out of bed, sang in the shower, dressed quickly, and then drove in to work with a huge smile on my face. I felt incredible. I was just more alert. For the record that lasted until 3 this afternoon. Stupid 3 p.m. slump.

Last night I also got a chance to see Erik Larson speak. He was in town as part of our library's AVID program, Authors Visiting in Des Moines (yes I know that should be AVIDM, but really that's just not as cool). He didn't do much reading, but instead he talked to us. He told us about his inspiration, his research (his books are meticulously researched), and his previous experiences as a writer and a presenter. He had a great sense of humor along with a great sense of history. After the talk he signed books. I had brought Isaac's Storm for him to sign but my mother presented me with a copy of his new book In The Garden of Beasts so I got that one signed. Now I can't wait to read it.

Tonight I've got laundry to do and then I'm planning to finish my current book. I've noticed lately that many of my books are focusing on frozen climates (must be because the weather has been so nice). I'm currently working on Rowing To Latitude by Jill Fredston which is about her and her husband's summer trips rowing in areas around the Arctic Circle. They have seen whales up close, encountered bears, and dealt with both pack ice and glaciers. Suddenly I want to learn to row. And I want to travel along these shores. I love the wildness areas they see and wouldn't mind finding my way there. Before that I was reading The Adventurer's Handbook which touched on Arctic and Antarctic exploration. Jeff and I have been enjoying Frozen Planet (except for the exploration segment. Too many inaccuracies for my taste). I thrilled at the discussions of Svalbard and Norway in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series. I'm sure I'm forgetting something snow and ice related but it just seems that its been a major focus for a while.

Lastly I leave you with a random tufted titmouse, contemplating his toes. Not sure why. It's just more randomness.

Wednesday Wisdom

Things I've Learned this Week

1. When asked to do two weeks worth of work in two days, it's only possible if you get other people involved.

2. Nothing really takes two weeks if enough adrenaline and caffeine are involved.

3. Knitting will wait and I won't forget how to cable.

4. Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick can be read in an hour and should be read...by everyone.

5. "Hey Bear!" yelled at the top of your lungs is apparently an effective bear deterrant (Rowing to Latitude--Jill Fredston)

6. It is possible to drink two 12 cup pots of coffee in a day. Not advisable but possible.

7. A 3 mile walk at night with the person you love can cure most stress.

8. My legs are a bit out of shape and don't really enjoy 3 miles.

9. There is nothing better than sipping coffee and reading great books while sitting out on the patio.

10. Even after reading four books in one week, I will still not be tired of reading.

Heading towards Luddite

I used to have five blogs that I tried to write on a regular basis. Two of them were co-authored with a good friend. One had only two postings for months before I finally deleted it. The two that I've kept up with mostly are this one and my children's book blog. But it's been months since I posted on my children's one. Months. I still get hits on it but I haven't bothered to write a new review in almost half a year. I'm beginning to think that it is dead.

But I've tried hard to keep up with this one. I've started strong and then slowly slacked off (love the alliteration). I went from posting four or five times a week to only once or twice a week. Now I find I haven't posted in almost ten days. It's beginning to worry me.

It's not that I haven't been writing. I have. But I've been doing most of it in a different format. My journal is getting a good workout lately. I've inked many, many pages over the last 10 days. I'm moving back towards paper and pen. And not just any pen, a beautiful Sailor fountain pen that my dad gave to me years ago. It's been sitting in a drawer gathering dust and clogging up.

So this week I dug it out and cleaned it up. I filled it with fresh ink and now I can't stop using it. I sat at Caribou this afternoon with both a book and my journal. Normally the journal gets neglected while I read. Not today. I put down my book several times so I can pick up that glorious pen and write more. I love the sound that it makes as it scratches across the page. I love the flow of the ink and the way it looks in my hand. I love the way my words look more elegant from the pen. On the computer they suddenly seem duller. So this is just to say that I'm apparently stepping back into the early 1900s to focus on paper and pen again. I'll be back soon. I'm sure the luxury of this beautiful writing instrument will wear off eventually. But right now I'm not in any hurry for that.

Passion and Madness

I've been drinking cheap red wine in the bathtub which means that this will be more maudlin and romantic then I mean it to be. It never fails. Give me a bottle of red wine and I will write you sonnets. Or at least feverishly slave away with words like the great poets of old. I wonder what's in the wine to make me do that.

I'm reading a book about reading (my favorite subject) and the author is talking about poets. Not just any poets but the masters of romanticism. Rimbaud, Verlaine, Baudelaire. Poets that I used to read (in translation of course) and dream of passion and madness. Years ago I bought a greeting card that had the phrase "passion is a form of madness". I bought it for the saying. I was a young romantic. I wanted that passion. I wanted to be that starving artist living in a garret, selling poems to buy cheap red wine and a meal that night. Some night (like tonight) I still do.

But as I read this book I remembered a picture. I don't know if I've posted it here before and I know that tonight I won't be able to describe why this photo pierced my soul. Why I printed a copy and moved it from house to house. Why it used to sit above my writing desk. The simplest explanation is that this photo (by Felix Nadar in 1856) captured the passion and madness of Charles Baudelaire. I've loved this photo my entire life. From the moment I first saw it I loved it. I knew I needed to have a copy. I can't really explain way. It's terrible quality. It's blurry and odd, but I love it. Something about it speaks to me. And some days I understand what it's saying.

The Start of Something Wonderful

I have a three foot long by one foot deep "garden" in which I can plan whatever I like. A good part of the land is taken up by Roderick, my lion (thanks for the name Keith! I can't think of him as anything else) and the other part I am starting to experiment with. The lilac bushes that the association pulled out are starting to come back and I'm leaving them. The lilacs were some of the main reasons I moved here. I planted a nice looking hosta that requires almost no care from me. But the last planting is the one I'm the most excited about (Jeff would say obsessed about). Strawberries!!!

I planted a half dozen strawberry plants last year in April. They were still too new to bear fruit last year so I "patiently" waited through the year for this spring. Three of them survived the winter, although two others are trying. Suddenly I'm starting to see a mixture of the little white flowers that strawberries grow, and another kind of stalk. The berries are still green and very small but they are the start of something wonderful. In May I will have fresh organically grown strawberries. I'll be able to harvest my own food, which has been a dream of mine for years now.

I'm already thinking about planting more strawberries and trying to do some potted raspberries. My father learned how to Bonzai an orange tree, with the possibility of full size oranges. I tried planting spinach last year that failed miserably. But these little plants, so green and beautiful, make me want to plant more food. To actually produce a crop of something. Until then I'm going to gorge myself on homegrown strawberries. Well at least once they become ripe.

A Love Letter to a Love Letter

Jeff and I unboxed books for a book sale this past week. We were assigned the paperback romance novels which was actually a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Some of the titles were pretty cringe worthy (The Greek Billionaire's Forced Bride). We were discussing good romance novels at knitting last night (think Gone With the Wind and Pride and Prejudice) and discussing if we had ever swooned at a book.

So this morning I'm thinking about swooning moments. Moments that are just so romantic and wonderful that they capture your emotions. And I thought of one. One of the few times where I've actually swooned at a book. It's from Jane Austen's Persuasion. Persuasion was the last book that Austen wrote, and her most sad. It's about unrequited love, something I have some good experience with. And it's my favorite of her novels. At the end of the book there is a love letter that made me weak in the knees when I read it. It's a love letter filled with passion and hope and a bit of pain. It's some of the best romantic writing I've ever read. So I thought I would quote it here. Sorry for the spoiler. If I destroy the book for you, I apologize. Although it is still well worth reading, just for Austen's wonderful phrasings.

"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W.
"I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never."

The Risk of Cables

I'm a non-risk taker by nature. I'm not a fan of failing so I tend to be slow to try things. And I often overthink things, meaning that more often than not I won't even try things because I'll decide that they are too difficult before I even start. It's a flaw that I keep working to overcome. My hobbies are no exception. I'm slowly learning a lesson about knitting. For years I've been overcautious in my knitting. I work on projects where I know most of what I'm doing. I like projects that are mostly mindless knitting. I've learned a lot over the years but I tend to stay mostly within my comfort zone.

In October I taught a friend how to knit. He was visiting and had been interested in trying so on the day before he left, I taught him the basic knit stitch. He went home and worked on his first scarf. Then he got bored and knit a little hat for his niece. Then some mittens. Then a belt. Then a cowl. Then...you get the idea. He taught himself how to bind off, how to purl, how to yarn over. In six months he's tried techniques that I hadn't tried within the the first three years of knitting. I'm a bit in awe of how willing he is to take risks and how good of a knitter he's become.

And I'm learning that nothing in knitting is as hard as I make it out to be. I learned how to make tiny fingers for a sackboy doll I made. I learned how to pick up stitches for mittens. I learned that I can read some pretty scary looking patterns. And this week I learned my holy grail of knitting, cabling. I had been terrified to cable for years. I just didn't think I would understand it so I didn't try it. This week I started this cowl which happens to have some cabling. It took me a bit of coaxing from Jeff but now I can say I know how to cable. And it's way easier than I thought it would be. Everything in knitting is easier than it sounds. That's my lesson. It may take me a few times to get things, but everything is learnable. It's a good lesson for knitting...and really for life. Everything is learnable.

Reconnecting

About two weeks ago my aunt and uncle were in Des Moines. Jeff and I had dinner with them and spent two nights playing games and enjoying their company. On the last evening they were here, my uncle mentioned an old friend that he had just gotten back in contact with. He said that there was another old friend he was looking for and hadn't had a lot of luck finding. So I offered to help him look.

I have access to some great public records databases and can find a lot people information without a ton of effort. So I started doing some digging to find his friend. It took me less than an hour to find his friend and to confirm that it was the man he was looking for. I had found an old email address, a current phone number, and a current address. I sent it over to my uncle to do with as he would like. He tried the email and it bounced back so he cold-called. And after a couple uncomfortable minutes, the two friends were talking. My uncle sent him some pictures and figured that was that.

He emailed me this morning to tell me that he'd gotten a letter from his old friend. It was an in depth letter describing the friend's life and talking about his family. And then this friend dropped a bombshell. The man was dying. He had about a year or so left to live. When I read that in my uncle's email I was shaken. I was so sad for this man, who is on the edge of death. But I was also happy that my uncle had reconnected at this point. That it wasn't too late for him to say that he was thinking of this man. I was happy he would have a chance to say goodbye. If he had waited a year, my uncle would never have gotten to say anything.

So today I've been thinking about all the people I've lost contact with. All the friends that I've let drift away. I'm suddenly interested in getting in touch with them. Of telling them how much their friendship meant to me, even if it never rekindles. Because you never know when it will be too late. I'm both happy and sad I could help my uncle. But more than anything it has made me think.

Charles Santoso

I'm not sure where I saw it, the image above. I'm sure I had been doing an image search for art or illustration or Totoro (because I do those kind of things regularly...probably more regularly than I should admit). But I saw this image and my heart melted. This is a wonderful piece of Totoro work. It has the same sweetness but it's not just ordinary fan art. This has extra character to it. This is the kind of piece that grabs my attention. So of course I had to see where it came from. The link led me to other tribute art, some for Peanuts, some for Calvin and Hobbes, some for Harry Potter. But all of them had the same soft softness and sweetness to them. I was hooked.

So I went to My Mini Tree House and discovered that this was just the tip of the iceberg in terms of Charles Santoso's work. And I love every bit of it. Santoso is a Sydney, Australia based artist who has done film and TV work. But it's his little character sketches that make me the happiest. On his website he describes himself as a concept artist who focuses on creating whimsical characters and scenes. He certainly does that. His draftsmanship is very good but it's the character and humor that makes me love his work.

 I subscribed immediately to his blog, and then started going back through the vast archive of art that he's already posted. As I read back, I grew to like his work even more. Santoso is willing to play. You can see the joy he takes in his work jump off the blog. He'll post concept art or strange dreams he's had. He'll try colors out and then post. He's having fun. I found all different types of art and so many characters, most of which are his own. Some artists leave me intimidated and Santoso certainly is good enough to do that. But looking at his work I just wanted to play and that was actually very inspiring. Incredible artwork and inspiration make for a new favorite artist.

P.S. I just went to Acid Free Gallery and purchased this print. Now I'll have some new artwork to hang on the wall.

The Only Animation I Don't Like

I'm going to sound like an anti-progress curmudgeon with this statement but I hate animated gifs. Hate them! Nothing will get me to leave a webpage faster than an animated gif. I see that movement and I'm already clicking on another link to get away.

This shouldn't really be a problem for me but I'm seeing them more and more frequently. A drawing blog I follow has had two or three posts including animated gifs recently. A couple bloggers I follow have used them. It's a good think I don't follow any of the cute cat websites anymore because they seem to be the number one producers of them. It hasn't happened yet but I could see myself narrowing down my blog list if I find the author uses them frequently. I hate them that much.

You would think I'd be okay with them (not love but at least be okay) because I'm such an animation fan. Okay I'm really more of an animation junkie. I can't stay away from the stuff. Given my choice of movie it's always animated. But there is something about the repetitive movement that turns me off. The ads that use them will never ever ever receive a single click from me. And the artists who create animated gifs, even if they do amazing work outside of that, will never end up profiled on this blog. I know it sounds grouchy of me. But the next time you see one, just watch it for a couple minutes. Tell me if you feel nauseated. Tell me how fast you click off the site.

I Want a Daemon

I broke my series streak when I picked up a bound three book edition of the His Dark Materials trilogy. Philip Pullman has been a polarizing figure for years, with a fever pitch after the movie The Golden Compass came out. The books have been condemned and banned all over the world for being anti-religion. I knew of the controversy before but knew little about the books. So when I found this edition, for a decent price, I picked it up to see what all the fuss was about. I figured I'd just read the first book, as is my usual trend.

But after sitting down and getting twenty pages into the first book, I was intrigued. The concept of other worlds and dust and the church seemed so out there. So odd. I was hooked. I looked up at Jeff and made the understatement of the week. "I'll be in this book for a while". What I meant is that he wasn't to bother me. What I didn't realize is that I was going to read all three books in a little over 48 hours. I read while I ate. I read while I got dressed. I read late into the night. I simply couldn't put the books down. I won't even try to go through the plot here. I could be here for days trying to describe and explain everything that happens in these books. These are plot and character rich books.

And although I loved the characters, the concepts, and the settings, it was the idea of the daemons that drove me to finish. In Lyra's world (the main character) a daemon is a being that is tied to you from the very earliest days of your life until the very end of your life. It is a creature that is constantly with you. It can hear your thoughts and you can hear its. It cannot be separated from you without pain. It's a companion in the closest possible sense. And the bonds between the people and their daemons are emotional at their finest level. The thought of separation between a human and their daemon (something brought up frequently in the book) was enough to make me cry. I broke down on numerous occasions not because a character had died but because of their daemon's reaction to the eminent death. It was heart-wrenching and reduced me to tears.

I loved the books for a number of reasons but the biggest one was to see what would happen to Lyra and her daemon. To share in the bond between them. I found the book mystical and spiritual in a way that made me question all the hype about it. This was not an anti-religious book but an anti-established church book. It was about not giving the church too much power and to see the rest of the spiritualness around you. But for me this was a story about companionship. It made my heart ache to know that I'd never have a daemon. To know those kind of bonds. It hurt me as much as it hurt Lyra to be separated from her daemon. It was a set of books that made me feel more than anything.

Poetry Friday

The first book of poems I ever purchased was A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far by Adrienne Rich. It was a tiny slim volume of poetry wrapped in a bright pink cover. And I remember thinking how small and thin it was. Until I opened it. This tiny volume was filled with passion and anger and politics and beauty. It was everything good poetry should be. I read a lot of Rich's work in college and loved most of it. She died on Tuesday. This is my way of a memorial.

Diving Into the Wreck (a poem that became even better once I started diving)
by Adrienne Rich

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
abourd the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.

There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it is a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.

I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me where the ocean
will begin.

First the air is blue and tehn
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breath differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purpose.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed

the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative hunters.

This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body.
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he

whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass

We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a book, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.

Collector of Images

The new Library at Alexandria lit up at night

I have a number of collections that I keep. I mentioned before my rather unusual collections in a post a while ago. I collect books certainly. I wrote about my nearly obsessive journal collection here. But currently my favorite collection, at least the one I'm adding to the most frequently, is a collection of images that I like. I have computer folders and paper folders filled with images. Some are illustrations. Some are photographs. Some are just plain silly. But I keep gathering them.

 An image from Coran Stone's Calvin and Hobbes story that I have to find the rest of.

 A bookcase that makes me happy

I should really just start a Pinterest account. Then I could keep all my images in one place. I could access them any time I want. But I don't. Part of me is worried about the time suck of the account. Like Facebook I worry that the site will be too addictive. I don't need another online place to waste time. I already have enough with Facebook and the over 90 blogs and webcomics that I subscribe to. So instead I just save the images and hoard them.

A librarian image that makes me happy.

Some characters I drew as possible villians in a

graphic novel I want to write (someone else will illustrate it).

Some of them I share here. If I find an artist I like I tend to share their work. But some of them simply molder away in a file folder, never to be shared or seen by anyone but me. And today I started wondering about the usefulness of that (plus I'm having a terrible day and needed fun images to make it better). So this post is really just to share some of the images I've collected and enjoy. There is no theme here. Just some images that make me happy. Welcome to my rather eclectic mind.

A treehouse I took from Lovely Listings that made me think of stories I read as a child.

Shaun Tan's waterbuffalo from Tales from Outer Suburbia