Venting: Literally and Figuratively

Right now there are six industrial strength fans running in my kitchen. The noise is so loud that I'm camped out upstairs. This morning as I was just about ready to pack my lunch for work I noticed that the floor was shiny. It was reflecting the light we have in the bathroom. Thankfully I turned the kitchen light on before walking in. Otherwise I would have soaked my feet. There was a good inch or so of standing water all over the floor.

Instead of packing lunch I woke Jeff up, grabbed some towels and headed back downstairs to start the long process of mopping up my kitchen. We filled buckets with gray water and hauled them outside to dump on the lawn. We got good use out of the new mop we bought last month. With Jeff using a sponge and me using the mop we were finally able to make headway on the mess. Just as we had gotten mostly under control, our neighbor rang the doorbell and pleaded for help. She was in the same situation. Water everywhere. We helped mop out her kitchen as well.

With the water gone I headed out to work (I'd told my boss I'd be late) and left Jeff to wait for the sewer company. They arrived about 9 and quickly realized that there was a blockage in the main building line. We had taken the brunt of the mess along with our neighbor. Four other units were also affected but with much less damage. Jeff called a company to come in and clean up and they're the ones that set up the fans. They're also the ones that realized that the underfloor was soaked and that the vinyl flooring would have to come up. So not only do we have the charge of the clean-up but we'll be laying in a new floor and new baseboards. An expensive and very frustrating morning.

So right now I'm venting... along with the kitchen. It's hopefully getting dry, particularly the walls. And I'm starting to accept things the way they are. I won't have a kitchen for  probably a week and a half. Jeff and I will be looking at flooring tomorrow. I have the frustration of not being able to use my downstairs bathroom comfortably. And of course the added expense. The only positive is how incredible Jeff has been through this whole thing. He's been the one to deal with the insurance company (we don't have sewer coverage), the sewer company, the cleaning company, and shopping to make things simpler for me. He's been a godsend today. I hope I cool off before the floor dries. Otherwise it's going to be a long frustrating week.

Here's Looking at You, Kid

It's one of the most famous lines from the classic movie Casablanca. Or at least the most famous line that people get right. "Play it again, Sam" was never uttered in the movie. But I digress. I don't know of any movie that has more classic lines than Casablanca. Most of which come in the last 10 minutes as Rick tells Ilsa that she needs to go with her husband.

My sister introduced me to Casablanca when I was in high school and I have loved the movie ever since. It's one of the first black and white films I ever owned. It's a story I rarely get tired of watching. The odd part is that the love story is wonderful but it's not my favorite part of the movie. This is film filled with characters, unique personalities who steal a couple scenes and are never seen again. It's a movie that seems alive beyond what the camera lens is focused on. Simpering Peter Lorre, Louis the police chief, Sam with the magical voice, and a mix of other noble characters and scoundrels. Rick and Ilsa is a sweet story, but it's the side characters that draw me to the film.

Last night I got to see the movie on the big screen. One of our local art theaters screened it for the whole week and my mom and aunt suggested that we go. Even though I hate the theaters I couldn't pass up the chance to see that famous cafe on the big screen. As an audience, we laughed at the subtle wonderful jokes. I nearly cheered at the playing of the Marseilles. And I lost myself in a movie I've seen well over two dozen times. It was magic.

Experiment

For two and a half weeks I've been spending many of my nights in front of the TV. I'm a huge Olympics fan. I want to catch every minute of coverage I can. It didn't matter which sport, I was watching. And now I've gotten used to coming home and settling on the couch. I've been out to dinners and running errand this week but the moment I come home I'm again planted on the couch, reading Facebook updates and watching whatever show is on.

And my last post was all about unplugging. It was about taking time away from electronics and feeling freer. But here I am tonight, sitting in front of the TV again. And it's taken me well over an hour to write these two paragraphs because I've been distracted by the moving pictures. It should never take me more than an hour to write a paragraph. I should never have so little concentration or focus.

So tomorrow I'm starting an experiment. No television for a week. I'm going to try to concentrate on reading, writing, and other hobbies. I haven't been knitting as much as I'd like. I haven't been writing much at all this recently. I've been working on a fascinating book for almost two weeks now, which is incredibly slow for me. I'm not focused. And I'm hoping that this experiment will show me if my concentration issues are TV related. Or if nothing else I hope I get something done. It's an experiment. It may not work. But I assume that it will be worth the effort. Wish me luck.

Blackout

Jeff and I were watching some Olympics coverage (because I can't get enough of it) last night after dinner when suddenly the TV went black. And the AC turned off. And all the lights. We had a big storm the night before that had knocked out some power but we had been spared. Now tonight, with little more than a breeze, we were out.

So of course we did what everyone would do. We poured glasses of Baileys and sat out on the patio. Since the power went out at 8 we got to sit and talk and watch the darkness descend. It was heavenly. There was nothing to do and nothing we had to do. Most of the neighbors had done the same thing, sitting out on their patios with glasses of wine and relaxing.

And for a moment I thought about what it must have been like before the internet and TV. Now I was alive before there were personal computers. I remember a time where we didn't have the ever-present internet to entertain us. I never knew a time before TV. But sitting out there last night I found myself hoping that the lights didn't come back on for a while. I loved the undistracted time just watching the world grow darker while listening to people talk. Watching the trees blow in the breeze and listening to the cicadas. I loved the darkness and the sense of security of sitting in the dark. It felt safe and cozy. Eventually Jeff brought me a candle and I sat in the faint candle-light and wondered what the world would be like without television and email and constant distractions. I've decided that it would have been amazing. Then the lights came back on.

Recent Visitor

Ever since I put up my bird feeder I've had regular avian visitors. I started seeing birds only 17 hours after putting up the feeder and have rarely had a break since. I love seeing the chickadees, finches, nuthatches, cardinals, woodpeckers and sparrows that flock to the feeder. I have a rabbit that has started coming in the morning, along with numerous ground squirrels and squirrels. But none of them is as exciting as what Jeff saw when he looked out the window this past week.

He was watching Olympics coverage when he heard something loud out the window. He glanced out to see this beautiful bird above. It's either a juvenile Sharp-Shinned hawk or a juvenile Cooper's hawk. They look very similar at this age from what I know. The yellow eyes tell me that this is a juvenile. They'll turn a beautiful red as she ages. From the size I think it's female. She's a bit bigger than a crow which is the average size.

Jeff tells me that after sitting up on the fence for a bit, the hawk flew to the ground and spent some time sunning. It spread it's wings out and hunkered on the ground. No doubt it was waiting for some of the regular sparrows to come back. Coopers and Sharpies regularly eat feeder birds. So this pretty bird was waiting for a meal. After Jeff sent me a text with a picture my next question was whether it had found a meal or not. I'm excited that it's hunting my area. I love that not only does my feeder attract small birds but the big predators come by extension. Such a beautiful sighting. While I wish I'd gotten to see it but  I love all the pictures Jeff took for me.

Dragon's Lair

For those of you who don't know (and I pity you) Dragon's Lair was a stand-up arcade game that came out in the 80s. It was a unique game in that the graphics were far and away better than anything we had ever seen before. They were like an animated movie. It was spectacular. It was also insanely hard. I don't know anyone who's has ever made it past the first few minutes of gameplay. Your character Dirk approaches the door of the castle and....you die. I had no idea how. You just died. As I shoved quarter after quarter in the machine I (finally) managed to sidestep the daggers that came out and open the door after which...I died. Over and over this went. I bet you I would blow $20 in quarter on this game...every time I saw it. And I never did get past that door. I was both infuriated and obsessed.

I won't tell you how much time and money that I wasted on Dragon's Lair when I was a kid. It was more money then time though. When your gameplay experience is only 10 seconds long it doesn't add up to much time playing. But the graphics kept drawing me back. As you know I'm an animation junkie and this was Don Bluth's work. I loved this game and I hated it.

This was actual gameplay graphics

When Jeff and I were in Disney World we went to DisneyQuest, their four story arcade. After you paid the door admission, all the games were free. I parked myself at Dragon's Lair and managed to get past the door to find the skeleton, which killed me. Jeff pulled me away to ride the bumper cars or something, and for that I thank him. Otherwise I could still be standing at that machine today, trying to see what's beyond that skeleton.

It was Jeff who saved me again as we stood in GameStop and I noticed that they now have Dragon's Lair for the Wii. It's the original game, plus sequels for $25 used. I begged. I pleaded. I whined. It wasn't pretty. I wanted that game. It was Jeff who pulled me away again. But I still think about it. Playing Dragon's Lair on the Wii, able to spend as much time as I need to advance in the game. Finding out what the sequels were like. Although I'm still confused as to how you can have sequels for a game no one ever won...or played more than 10 minutes on.

We'll be moving on, cabbie

The title is a line from The In-Laws. The original with Peter Falk and Alan Arkin. Peter Falk is a CIA agent whose son is about to marry Arkin's daughter. Arkin is a mild-mannered dentist, until Falk drags him into a South American mess. In one scene the two are being shot at when they discover a taxi-cab. They climb in and Peter Falk casually tells the driver, "we'll be moving on cabbie." It's a great line mostly because of the casualness in Falk's voice and Arkin's hysterics. I haven't seen it in years. I'll have to watch the movie again.

I was trying to think of how to start this post and the line came to me. This past month has been a bit tough for a bunch of reasons I won't go into. Nothing terrible just not the best. Every time I've sat down to write a post, I've thought about how silly it all seems. And then I've shut the case on my laptop and done something else. I just wasn't ready to talk.

Tonight I'm ready to get back to blogging. I have artists to share and adventures to tell. I'm relaxing finally and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I don't have to write anything I don't want to. I've been holding myself back waiting for the right mood, right topic, right situation. I'll be moving on, cabbie.

(Seriously, rent it. Hilarious. One of Falk's best and Alan Arkin is hysterical as straight man. Don't bother with the remake. )

Underground New York Public Library

The Undiscovered Self by Carl Jung

As a librarian and a lover of books, I love to see other people reading. As I keep hearing about the death of books and how less people are reading, I keep a look out for people who are bucking the trend. I'm a huge fan of paper books and although I have no issues with e-readers,  I think that you lose some of the connection to the book. Plus when I see a reader, I often try to peek to see what book they are enjoying. That's tougher with an e-reader.

(Left) The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, 

(Right) The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Because of this love for paper books, I've become a huge fan of the blog, the Underground New York Public Library. The blogger (Ourit Ben-Haim) is a photographer who travels the New York City subway, taking pictures of people she finds reading. The Reading Riders are then posted along with the title of the book they were reading. It's a fantastic blog that offers people watching, reading suggestions, and a reminder that print books are not yet dead.

 Catch 22 by Joseph Heller

The blogger is a street photographer and most of the subjects are not aware that they are being photographed. I love how absorbed in their books they seem. When a photo cannot be taken unaware, the blogger is careful to explain the project and then ask the person to go back to reading. Once they are engrossed again, that's when the shot gets taken. It's all about catching a reader in that moment of engagement with the book. They always look so much more relaxed than the other riders. It's a wonderful image of the diversity of readers and their books of choice. Plus I come away from this blog with a ton of new books to read. Perfect.

Great Short Works of Dostoyevski

Art Festival Surprise

My brother was in town from St. Louis this past weekend. Jeff and I spent most of our weekend with my brother and my parents, visiting and catching up. I don't get to see my brother nearly enough and it was wonderful to spend some good quality time with him. We had dinner with them on Friday and Saturday. On Sunday we caravaned down to Kansas City with my brother to watch the St. Louis Cardinals take on the Royals. The stadium was 60% red at the game. No one can ever say that Cards fans don't travel well.

On Saturday though, Jeff and I started the morning with an indulgence. We picked up cupcakes from a cute little place in Valley Junction, the historic shopping district in West Des Moines. With cupcakes like Peanut Butter Double Chocolate and Fizzy Mai Tai it was tough to pick just one. I ended up with a raspberry cupcake with a lemonade based frosting that was incredible. We ate out on the covered patio while watching the rain come down.

In the afternoon, the rain cleared up. The boys (my dad, my brother, and Jeff) went out golfing. My mom and I headed downtown to check out the Art Festival. Each year the Des Moines Art Festival includes some really fantastic artists, some good food, and a wonderful atmosphere. It takes place in the downtown sculpture garden so if you're not checking out the art, you can walk through some very unique sculptures.

As we were walking through, my mother found a woman who creates butterflies out of paper. They look incredibly realistic. We had to peer really close to the glass before we could tell that they weren't real butterflies and were just made out of paper. The artist even sticks each sculpture with a pin to make it more realistic. Since my mother collects butterflies (real ones) she bought a small Blue Morph Butterfly sculpture to hang next to the real one she has at home.

Then we walked past a mixed media artist that had my attention. She had a number of painting which were lovely but it was the journals that caught my eye. Gena Ollendieck (from Cresco, IA) creates wonderful pictures, leather bound journals, and photo-albums that are covered with found objects that tell a story or evoke a mood. Here's some information about her. Her pieces are unique and each one is lovely. I found at least six or seven journals alone that I would love to own. I was oohing and ahhing to my mother about one of the journals when she declared that she would buy it for me. I argued with her, a bit. They were not cheap journals. But she kept telling me how beautiful they were and how wonderful it was to support artists, something I believed as well. I have to admit that I only half-heartedly argued. This was one of the most beautiful journals I'd ever seen. And when the artist wrapped the journal in brown paper and handed it to me, I couldn't stop holding it. I brought it home and showed everyone there. It's now sitting on a table in my library. I'm not sure if I'll write in it or use it as a photo-album. I do know that I feel incredibly lucky to have such a beautiful piece of art. Thanks Mom!

Poetry Friday

Since I haven't been posting regularly, I haven't done a poetry friday in a while. So here we go. I have this poem saved on my computer at home. I struggle with it occasionally. It both energizes me and depresses me. Let me know what you think of it.


A Psalm of Life
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(what the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist)

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
   "Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
   And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
   Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
   Finds us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
   And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
   In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
   Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, --act in the living Present!
   Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
   We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
   Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
   With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
   Learn to labor and to wait.

Hummingbirds

This is my computer's wallpaper. I have about 30 dozen hummingbird pictures in my iPhoto. I just love the birds. This one is from my parent's backyard. They have a Lantana that gets regular hummingbirds. The other ones are from my feeder. I started feeding them with premade food but then started making my own food after hearing some concerns about the premade stuff. Sugar and water is all you need to attract them and is quick and easy to make. The red dye isn't needed and actually may be bad for them.

I love how bold these birds are. I can sit less than 2 feet from the feeder and they will come. I can hear the buzzing of their wings and their chirps as they swoop past my head. They hover and feed so close without fear. For a tiny little bird, they offer a lot of beauty and boldness.

RIP Ray Bradbury

I started writing this last week. It just never got posted.

I think I was 12 or 13 when I first read The Martian Chronicles. I remember asking my dad for something to read and since I'd already worked my way through Dune and Ringworld, he must have thought he'd suggest another of his writing heros. I do remember that it was summer and that I stayed inside curled up on the couch reading the book. I was entranced. I'm sure I knew the world colonization but it was the emotions that made me unable to put the book down. The wonderful mix of loneliness, uncertainty, fear, joy, and discovery was what made each story sing. I read the book in two days. And since then I've always loved Bradbury.

On my shelves upstairs I have The Martian Chronicles, The Illustrated Man, Something Wicked This Way Comes, Dandelion Wine, Forever Summer, Fahrenheit 451, I Sing the Body Electric, and One More For the Road. He is the author that I've owned the most books by. He's the author that never once disappointed me. Even his odd mysteries in the last couple years have a charm for me. So although I knew he was older (91 when he died), I don't think I ever really expected him to die. Or at least I hoped that I would get to shake his hand once before he did. Now that won't happen. I was a bit upset when Maurice Sendak died earlier this month. But I cried when I found out Ray Bradbury was dead. It seemed impossible.

Since his death I've been reading obituaries and tributes to him. I've read a lot of people gushing about him, and only a bit of it was about his writing. Ray Bradbury was a man who wrote every day of his adult life but who still took the time to answer much of his fan mail with a real letter written out on his typewriter. I've seen wonderful examples of letters he sent to his fans filled with anecdotes, advice, and encouragement. I've read people talk about how amazing a friend he was. And I read the sheer human emotion that he wrote with. I have a section of quotes in my quote book dedicated to him. He's said so many wonderful things. He is a huge fan of libraries and stories. And he's been an idol of mine since that summer over two decades ago when I finally realized how good writing could be. I'm sad that he's no longer with us. But I hope that his legacy (both as a writer and a person) lives on.

Stuff your eyes with wonder...live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. 

See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. 

--Ray Bradbury

We are all cups, constantly and quietly being filled.

The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.

Transit

I had dinner with my parents on Tuesday at Macaroni Grill. As we sat at the table eating pasta, my dad kept leaning up to glance out the window. I noticed him doing it but it took me a couple times before I finally ask. He said he was checking to see how sunny it was. Dad's an amatuer astronomer and what I didn't know is that the Transit of Venus over the sun was taking place right during dinner. My dad had thought ahead and brought a solar filter.

When he finally noticed the clouds pass, he got up from the table, grabbed his binoculars and solar filter, and headed outside. Within a couple minutes he was back, beaming. After that, we each took a turn taking the filter and the binoculars out to look at the small dark ball passing in front of the sun. With the binoculars I could clearly see Venus and was able to pick up a decent sized sun spot as well. We just had to position the filter at the end of the binoculars and then locate the sun in the binoculars. We could look all we wanted without harming our eyes. It was partly cloudy so we had to time our visits just right. But we each got to see it. The last transit was eight years ago. The next one won't be for 105. I'm just glad Dad gave me the chance to both see and appreciate this rare event.

A NASA composite image of the transit. Love the solar flares below.

Blast From the Past

I'm fascinated by how memories work. While standing in the shower this morning I had a sudden burst of memory about a guide to a book series that I never read. Well I read the guide, just not the series. I'm sure my mother thought they were too adult for me or something. It was a series of books following a royal family in a fantasy world. I remember spending hours with the guide, looking at the characters and reading up about them. Considering I had never read their stories I wonder why this particular book and the characters fascinated me so much. But it had, and I knew that I had to find the book again.

I spent my shower trying to figure out anything about the guide that I could remember. I didn't remember which series it referenced or what the title of the guide was. I could only remember that the authors last name started with Z. Promising beginning huh? I ran through the list of Z last names I know. My first thought was Zindel but I knew that wasn't right. Then Zelinsky came to mind. But it certainly wasn't Paul Zelinsky, one of my favorite children's book illustrators. Then the name Roger popped into my head. And I instantly knew it was right. I knew that was the first name of the author. Zelazny quickly followed. Seriously, how do I know these things without conciously knowing them?

A brief internet search found me not only the series, but the guide. Roger Zelazy is best known for his Chronicles of Amber series. He mixes mythical characters into his fantasy novels to create a superhuman royal family whose exploits the books follow. The Wikipedia page tells me that there were 10 original Amber stories. Again I haven't read a single one, although I have The Guns of Avalon on my shelf to be read for some odd reason. The guide I was thinking of was The Visual Guide to the Castle Amber. At least I think. I can't for the life of me remember the title. But I know the cover above, and I would know the pages in an instant. Each character had an illustration and a biography. I remember reading about the brothers and sisters and seeing the images. It's a book that I pored over. And now I have to find it. I must own this guide. Even if I never read any of the books that inspired it, I know I have to own the guide, something I read and loved 25 years ago. I just have no idea why it popped into my head this morning. Memories are funny things.

Squirrels and Squinties

Today I did an experiment. I sat outside and knit on the front patio. I set out some seed on the ground stretching from the feeder right up to my feet. I was curious to see how close the creatures and birds would get. I sat still, mostly. I avoided looking directly at them. I sat and waited. I got a lot of knitting done. The birds came down while I was there but wouldn't get any closer than five feet. They were wary of me. But slowly the squinties (It's a Des Moines name. Ground squirrels to the rest of the world) and one large grey squirrel started creeping closer.

Squinty

They started as far away as they could get and within an hour I had a squirrel sitting at my feet, less than a foot away from me, eating seed and watching me. I always wanted to be a Disney princess so that birds and small animals would flock around me. I wanted to be close to nature. Today I was close enough to squirrels and ground squirrels that I could have petted them. And trust me I thought about it. But as the squirrel inched closer and closer I started to worry. Rabies, rodent bites, and crazed creatures running up my pant leg ran through my mind. And for a moment I was nervous at the proximity. But it was an experience that was well worth any worry. If only I had gotten pictures.

Squirrel (albeit a red squirrel)