tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72298753397270951842024-03-18T15:17:26.008-05:00l'astronavewriting at 100,000 kilometers/hour, just sitting hereFrescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.comBlogger4545125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-33172298692634161612023-12-21T13:39:00.023-06:002024-02-24T06:59:05.458-06:00Hello, I must be going.<p><span style="font-size: large;">UPDATE, 1/24: I am now blogging at Noodletoon:<br /> <a href="https://noodletoon.blogspot.com">https://noodletoon.blogspot.com</a>.<br />____________________<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Did you see that my state, Minnesota, has adopted the<a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/19/us/minnesota-state-flag-new-design.html" target="_blank"> blandest whitewash redesign</a> of our old, racist state flag?<br />It's like the winner in the Race for Inoffensive.<br /></span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7T-RzmsA6BpCsM79L0p3642F6lXa9-qZiHEbcXuXx4jwEOtBeeM-B0snQiBfq0nm7fU3rS-IEpA7nQ7zKROCrDdG706RB98ApbB8p6Yu8L8Yg-lwKqKTrlrMvSGXziEpA5oypFy6EBTjqh62vH5rZ3249RSjva2eSrh3LyxgaIK40-1nQ1j-Jqp77akZ/s1570/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-21%20at%201.00.12%20PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="1570" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7T-RzmsA6BpCsM79L0p3642F6lXa9-qZiHEbcXuXx4jwEOtBeeM-B0snQiBfq0nm7fU3rS-IEpA7nQ7zKROCrDdG706RB98ApbB8p6Yu8L8Yg-lwKqKTrlrMvSGXziEpA5oypFy6EBTjqh62vH5rZ3249RSjva2eSrh3LyxgaIK40-1nQ1j-Jqp77akZ/w400-h241/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-21%20at%201.00.12%20PM.png" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Kinda puts me in mind of... IKEA? <br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Lt Gov Peggy Flanagan, a Native activist, said,<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">"Dare I say anything that isn't a Native person being forced off their land is a flag upgrade?!"</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">How's that for faint praise? "It's better than genocide!" <br /><br />Yay, us. <br />_____________</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-18591328849068829862023-12-15T08:12:00.090-06:002023-12-31T08:12:16.217-06:00Post #268: Welcome<p><span style="font-size: large;"> . . . One more post than last year!</span></p><p><b>_____________</b></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><b>#2024Goals</b><br /></span><br /><span>Reading Wil Wheaton's memoir last night, I felt my loss of contact with creative thinkers and makers, seekers and healers over the years--</span><span>partly the normal loss of friends through time; partly because of working a job where a lot of people all around me are undernourished in every way; </span><span>partly fallout from the isolation of Covid and the stress of social turmoil.<br /><br />Also, honestly, partly me being cantankerous and complacent--sometimes for reasonable reasons, perhaps, but, eventually, aren't they self-defeating ones?<br />I think I should take that in hand--not to force myself to be gregarious, ohgodno, but to reach out a little more to people, even, eek, to ask for help.<br /><br />I not just only "should" do this, I admit I want to. My “reasonable” reasons not to include a heightened irritation with people arising from a kind of social PTSD, like many of us developed in Trumptimes and Life in the Time of Covid. Plus, for those of us up and down Lake St. in Minneapolis, there's a special flavored PTSD from having witnessed (second-hand, but on streets we walk on) state-sanctioned murder in broad daylight, and the explosions of people's anger and frustration afterward, met—not by the powers-that-be with empathy and attempts at reconciliation—but with more state-sanctioned strong-arming.<br /><br />I remember the day conveys of armed US troops in camouflage rolled past me as I walked home from work--I stopped at the little garage-gym I was going to at the time and wept with the owner. <br />The next day, Asst Man said, "How do I explain to my kids why there are soldiers with machine guns on the corner?"<br />At work, I was on my knees cleaning up shards of windows smashed by legitimately angry and frustrated (and sometimes just opportunistic) people.<br /><br />So, maybe I want to try again to get some help/ to talk about all that with someone who understands the complexities? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Which, I am remembering, is what blog friend Darwi who lived as a teenage girl through the BOSNIAN WAR urged me to do…</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I know there’s plenty </span><span>better than that clueless therapist I saw once last year. </span><span>Someone who doesn't gaslight me, brushing off my feelings and thoughts as "overthinking" or telling me that “everyone is doing their best".</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">No wonder I don't want to socialize when these are literally some of the responses I get from people.<br /><br />My dear coworkers mostly operate in survival mode--a </span><span style="font-size: large;">grin-and-bear-it </span><span style="font-size: large;">which can even be jolly and wise, in its way, but <i>not </i>what I'd call... healing? expansive? <br /><br />This is a TINY door (2 inches high) in the outside wall of Dreamhaven bookstore. An invitation...<br />Welcome. Well come.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dypP7aNvLSiRrC5ksMEbI9JBdvAOHJV4g-MqgN7j1hyebx31ail-UhJO9-5v2P_Ra2hTkreDK6UdnJnZfKkh6ZV7OR0v7KVaV-rIIO4baWfuQBOWmUOn1rsJ475qJZB0W-UznJzEtD9hALwlyXPF_wEvZ9_YsKstQOVUDx2XABN9kfJH9r4XlzRBVkfO/s1280/IMG_0738.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dypP7aNvLSiRrC5ksMEbI9JBdvAOHJV4g-MqgN7j1hyebx31ail-UhJO9-5v2P_Ra2hTkreDK6UdnJnZfKkh6ZV7OR0v7KVaV-rIIO4baWfuQBOWmUOn1rsJ475qJZB0W-UznJzEtD9hALwlyXPF_wEvZ9_YsKstQOVUDx2XABN9kfJH9r4XlzRBVkfO/w480-h640/IMG_0738.jpeg" width="480" /></span></a></div><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-55770890915449051282023-12-14T17:01:00.032-06:002023-12-21T13:45:51.350-06:00laughter and tenderness<p><span style="font-size: large;">I had a fun day out, though it started with the nursing-home staff informing us that bink's mom has Covid <i>after</i> we'd walked into her room. She seemed well--up and alert. There was a notice posted on her door, but it was one of a couple pale Xeroxes crowded with print--I hadn't even registered it.<br /><br />We were wearing masks, at least, and I expect/hope the exposure is nothing to worry about. An aide said we could stay and visit if we put on PPE, but we'd had time to say hi and to give her the little Xmas tree, and that was good enough. She
clearly had no idea who I was--no flicker of recognition when I introduced myself, which wasn't surprising. She did light up when bink introduced herself though––"I'm your daughter...". (It can be good to remind people with dementia of who you are. Quizzing them, "Do you know who I am?" may set them up for feeling they've failed.)<br /><br />Then bink drove me to the grocery store, and I stocked up on everything to make holiday food. So nice to get a ride for heavy and bulky things like that! <br /> The cashier was wearing a headband that dangled a piece of plastic mistletoe in front of her eyes, like those deep sea fishes dangle lanterns off their foreheads... <br /><br />In the afternoon, I took the bus to the sci-fi bookstore Dreamhaven, where a bumper sticker at their till made me laugh out loud:<br /><b>STAR TREK: Woke Since 1966</b>. <br />They weren't selling them--the owner had gotten it at a con--or I'd have bought one for my bike.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAZe3JVzPHG_uiWwcYZd7pgtz7WPxyJgIVu_vIZ7_OMgDs2KBoSjyY1I18ye_eqWlMmKivKRUkqLL7gkgr_LuRiJ0N7cm2rN181y_67PkyXK7wN48u-iH0Q3JQZsopXUP16QTv2DzHviZPF-CQIBe1sifJGPugjj1zVGr8UrdDqUSp3D-w4TX7DWA1vdL/s1280/IMG_0730%20(1).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAZe3JVzPHG_uiWwcYZd7pgtz7WPxyJgIVu_vIZ7_OMgDs2KBoSjyY1I18ye_eqWlMmKivKRUkqLL7gkgr_LuRiJ0N7cm2rN181y_67PkyXK7wN48u-iH0Q3JQZsopXUP16QTv2DzHviZPF-CQIBe1sifJGPugjj1zVGr8UrdDqUSp3D-w4TX7DWA1vdL/w480-h640/IMG_0730%20(1).jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />I bought the new Murderbot, another book as a gift, and Wil Wheaton's 2022 memoir <i>Still Just a Geek</i> [see,<a href="http://wilwheatonbooks.com/still-just-a-geek/" target="_blank"> Wheaton's books website</a>], an update-by-annotation of his 2004<i> Just a Geek</i>.<br />I'd been one of "dozens of people" who'd read the original, by Wheaton's comical count and had "seemed to like it".<br /><br />I'd never gotten into <i>Star Trek: The Next Generation</i> though, so I didn't know Wheaton's character, Wesley Crusher, well enough to have an opinion about him, much less to virulently hate him as many people did. Wheaton has written about how horrible it was for his character to receive so much hate and mockery. So I'd been moved recently to see Wesley appear briefly in the second season of <i>ST: Picard</i> (the season I loved best) in a cool and heroic, kind and wonderfully geeky way. <br />Yay, Wil, for bringing it home!<br /><br />I've always admired how Wheaton has long chosen to be
incredibly public, vulnerable, honest, and sincere on his blog, <a href="https://wilwheaton.net/" target="_blank">Wil Wheaton dot net</a>--talking about his struggles with his "brain goblins</span><span style="font-size: large;">" (mental health), his survival of abuse and </span><span style="font-size: large;">"emotional smog"<span> </span><span>from his parents, the doubt and near-despair after leaving TNG, and also, all along, boldly sharing his joys and bravery and gratitude and love. What a geek!<br /><br />Also, he loves me. He said so in <a href="https://wilwheaton.net/2023/03/the-library-is-a-safe-place/#more-8922" target="_blank">this speech</a>!<br /></span></span><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span>"</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Are there any librarians here today? How about booksellers? I love you.<span><span>"</span></span></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span></span></span></span> <span style="font-size: large;">Revisiting his memoir after almost twenty years, Wheaton said, was "uncomfortable, embarrassing, awkward, but ultimately healing and surprisingly cathartic", which I think is true of a lot of the personal writing he has shared online for years. Of updating it, he said:<br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">“Many times during the process, I wanted to quit. I kept coming across
material that was embarrassing, poorly-written, immature, and worst of
all, privileged and myopic.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">“</span><span style="font-size: large;">. . . I physically recoiled from my own book. Those moments [of] privilege
and [the] ignorance that fueled them filled me with shame and regret. They
still do.”</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">I never did clean the apartment, but I'm not going to now--I'm going to read this book. Even as I'm thinking/writing lately more about Big Picture stuff on Earth, I never forget, I hope I never deny, that we each have our own tender selves to care for, and it matters that we do that. Otherwise, what's the point of being here?<br /><br />So, yeah, just glancing at Wil's book was a good reminder. Everything connects, it's not always obvious how, it's not all going to resolve when you want it to (or, maybe, ever), but your life matters, you're a piece of the whole.<br />Keep 'er moving!<br /></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-66730568098847718562023-12-14T09:27:00.007-06:002023-12-21T13:46:06.443-06:00Fresh-Ginger Cake recipe<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The fresh ginger makes this cake amazing. My tip: don't grate your knuckles when you're grating the ginger like I did last year...<br /><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="1604" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCkOEyHHKvkyNsUMRO47JD9V4B0qup5SN7KD1B0q14ls6Nb9kYigffyI5_Cz0KonyWK9zMkdn08a97unI42K5N6X3IdY5t8_c5_1_-I8hS7YXC4X1I-jXHuy4wEVnX6nnj942UJ3MluGN7DE83Xh87vKAexrk3BJf2nNwbdSPF0-IA3IZIo9enIGEmvxop/w640-h338/ginger%20cake%20recipe%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0awIJtCJMnRgnodpndl5WxeXXDDLZvQbngLhBChkzVxO7oFHiOaZb4hdGGoBy3jo-QaDyh-2yS-Lm651HAYMonhNXm7ZumACxGFu-Kdq_u3g4dzis1HEa81F2WG62xfmBzFr0lWLij78s08tHy_an61-I7EMFx5NdwEuokWCrY5W_poNpLZwG-V0uuWiq/s1295/ginger%20cake%20recipe.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="1295" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0awIJtCJMnRgnodpndl5WxeXXDDLZvQbngLhBChkzVxO7oFHiOaZb4hdGGoBy3jo-QaDyh-2yS-Lm651HAYMonhNXm7ZumACxGFu-Kdq_u3g4dzis1HEa81F2WG62xfmBzFr0lWLij78s08tHy_an61-I7EMFx5NdwEuokWCrY5W_poNpLZwG-V0uuWiq/w640-h332/ginger%20cake%20recipe.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-12930641701312857222023-12-14T09:20:00.015-06:002023-12-14T19:26:45.180-06:00Christmas Break<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="363" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9orJRFT8av8" width="437" youtube-src-id="9orJRFT8av8"></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Some cheering seasonal stuff.<br />I rewatched "Philomena Cunk on Christmas, 2016", last night––she makes me laugh out loud.<br /><br />Yesterday was my work's pot luck lunch. It was scattered and disjointed, but nice--just like us. <br /><br />This morning, bink and I are taking a little Xmas tree I got at the store to her mom, who lives in a nearby nursing home. Her mom's dementia is pretty well progressed. I haven't seen her since before Covid--I wonder if she'll recognize me. <br /><br />The tree is a bit squashed but we can straighten its wire branches.<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT90S1cJPCCQN7NdBkL_NCrcKNovVkQIyOn5cyoMfs0CbPS3fM5t-St7WM4HlYuaEwdtLKCafx1ky-GxnyRH_wgGbXPps-KJ0I2_bJQIg44eJDFVu3D6VhA1gdY5Ia3_hgGptgnFCVYNstR6ZHkKPu5k82_75l8B6IRwJglNmUBXYlmEV6uIROEqTYJNP/s1280/IMG_0722.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLT90S1cJPCCQN7NdBkL_NCrcKNovVkQIyOn5cyoMfs0CbPS3fM5t-St7WM4HlYuaEwdtLKCafx1ky-GxnyRH_wgGbXPps-KJ0I2_bJQIg44eJDFVu3D6VhA1gdY5Ia3_hgGptgnFCVYNstR6ZHkKPu5k82_75l8B6IRwJglNmUBXYlmEV6uIROEqTYJNP/w480-h640/IMG_0722.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">After that, we're going shopping for Christmas supplies. I'm
making pot roast as usual for Xmas Eve, and, this weekend, ginger cake.
(Oh--I'll post that separately, as Kirsten requested.)<br /><br />And then I'm taking the day to finish putting my apartment back in order--still half-pulled apart from when I moved my bookshelf a couple weeks ago. This afternoon I'll take a break and go to <a href="http://dreamhavenbooks.com" target="_blank">Dreamhaven books</a> to treat myself to </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>System Collapse</i>, </span><span style="font-size: large;">the new Murderbot!</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I think I'll also buy a replacement copy for the first in the series, <i>All Systems Red</i>, to replace the one I lent to mattdamon, who has vamoosed. I could get both books far cheaper online, but I love Dreamhaven and want to support my local sci-fi bookstore.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lpRKhxHhSfrl6a8DvMUF6FhMYh_WQgEGymAK7AY2XYhSM_-cU59ZdQ5iztYjUhvD1tqNs1A53Equ6G6eCK0I5NzJEdVMRPsxg1bIyZUW7OfkQpNOaqOX7zfDh3-dRNpELTGC6YnEUI2O7VPUEZIK5bOrMOznPXuWB2hiWybhHkG2NsXoBxuo7wMtu6Xr/s2160/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-14%20at%209.30.35%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="2160" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1lpRKhxHhSfrl6a8DvMUF6FhMYh_WQgEGymAK7AY2XYhSM_-cU59ZdQ5iztYjUhvD1tqNs1A53Equ6G6eCK0I5NzJEdVMRPsxg1bIyZUW7OfkQpNOaqOX7zfDh3-dRNpELTGC6YnEUI2O7VPUEZIK5bOrMOznPXuWB2hiWybhHkG2NsXoBxuo7wMtu6Xr/w640-h412/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-14%20at%209.30.35%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">_________________________<br /><br /><b>The Comfort of Confirmation</b><br /><br />Also last night, weirdly cheering/calming to me, I read most of a donated book, published this fall, 2023--it's rare to get such a new book:<br /> “<i>Trauma Sponges: Dispatches from the Scarred Heart of Emergency Response</i>,”<br /> by Minneapolis fire captain Jeremy Norton [<a href="https://www.mprnews.org/episode/2023/10/24/trauma-sponges-how-a-minneapolis-firefighter-responds-to-suffering" target="_blank">MPR interview</a>].<br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uIZLCX5cHIMdoLa6ZiBcyF29GxWTJOZ5m_oTirvje5NgJpZXYUIdtM-sfWPoOi5_xsZaGSMHQXKnwPQtA9KvJLQdmB3PseNIjkk1HlChrQfQD5CMuBJx-u3c74c1Nc0t4mW4kQWZ_bAbXeD-dm6VOQOK5fafHx5Pw5C95Sbb_mHKAGQFtn70DA_dZwmU/s1200/182493-20230920-a-man-poses-next-to-separate-photo-of-book-cover-webp1200.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uIZLCX5cHIMdoLa6ZiBcyF29GxWTJOZ5m_oTirvje5NgJpZXYUIdtM-sfWPoOi5_xsZaGSMHQXKnwPQtA9KvJLQdmB3PseNIjkk1HlChrQfQD5CMuBJx-u3c74c1Nc0t4mW4kQWZ_bAbXeD-dm6VOQOK5fafHx5Pw5C95Sbb_mHKAGQFtn70DA_dZwmU/w640-h426/182493-20230920-a-man-poses-next-to-separate-photo-of-book-cover-webp1200.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I bike past the author' firehouse on my way to work! <br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">In his work as fire captain, Norton tends to
the same people I see at the store. </span><span style="font-size: large;">For me, having someone creative, smart, angry, and in the know say,<b> Yes, this<i> is</i> happening, I see it every day too</b>, is so, so helpful, its a balm to my scarred heart.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> The book is not only about this event, but Norton's unit was called to the scene of George Floyd's murder––too late. <br /><br />The book centered/calmed me because the way Norton talks about what happened on 38th & Chicago
is exactly how I see it too, but closer up, plus he fills in gaps in my knowledge. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Sadly he
confirms my suspicions about what's happened since to improve the city's
policing:<br />pretty much nothing.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Hope is not an action plan"</b> he says. Yes! It's not! <br />I think I'll write him a thank-you note.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />But now I need to write a shopping list. <br />Have a lovely day, everyone!<br /></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-40139277058226139452023-12-13T09:17:00.025-06:002023-12-13T17:03:31.430-06:00First plant the sapling<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />I. Like a Turner Sunset</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>Isn't this photo beautiful, like a Turner painting? <br />"<i>The finest sky, to my mind, ever put on canvas,</i>" written of a Turner sunset <a href="https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/turner-sunset-n01876" target="_blank">at the Tate</a>.<br /><br /> You can see the movement of colors––dripping, blowing, bubbling–– some emerging, </span><span style="font-size: large;">some obliterating</span><span style="font-size: large;">...<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGkm8012KI5Dj9WooakDKn795LzKWxjjo_434sfz_YnWowqZBole9PD7M77oWyQKgUreTJEusoTY3sUzizZ_33m-XpDC0qzCNkTonrIeWPj9fXEROgyop6AAgpqL-MfNqZvOlLZUVnnN65AKYf0a_cSW2pBeWydl5Y7qpnD9FWhVQH81-hz-gSj6y4uk0/s1280/RenderedImage.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1135" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPGkm8012KI5Dj9WooakDKn795LzKWxjjo_434sfz_YnWowqZBole9PD7M77oWyQKgUreTJEusoTY3sUzizZ_33m-XpDC0qzCNkTonrIeWPj9fXEROgyop6AAgpqL-MfNqZvOlLZUVnnN65AKYf0a_cSW2pBeWydl5Y7qpnD9FWhVQH81-hz-gSj6y4uk0/w568-h640/RenderedImage.jpeg" width="568" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span> <br />I took the photo as I was biking down the Greenway path this spring. </span><span><br />It's the remains of a fire </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>under a highway overpass, </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>where people living outside were cooking or keeping warm. <br /><br />There can be beauty in the breakdown, as it reveals new realities. There's for sure discomfort in it.<br /><br /><b>II. Dissonance Reduction</b><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I finished reading Collinson's<i> Reformation</i> last night. <br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>When reality doesn't match people's beliefs and expectations, </span><span><br />writes the author, historian Patrick Collinson, <br />people don't usually change their minds, they (we) change how they see the reality.<br /><br />What's the name for that? It's a reaction to cognitive dissonance... <br /><br />*quick google* <br />Oh, here--it's called <b>dissonance reduction</b>. <br />Neat! It's the name for how we seek to reduce the unpleasant feelings when belief and reality clash––naturally, but probably not logically...<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Even if we change our beliefs, do we change our actions?<br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><span>Most of us will choose to keep doing what we're doing––<br />I had a hamburger last night––and, who ordered Christmas presents from Amazon?<br /><br /><b>III. First plant the Sapling</b><br /><br /></span></span><span><span>There's a saying in the Talmud,<br />"If you have a sapling in your hand and they tell you 'The Messiah is coming' first plant the sapling, then go to see him."</span></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNblNulKmrAjIRzwzh8U646UeiGMgAGI_TnpcGdpOFehkYVtHuVgc4xMx1FE7AH_6dB49RcGIJMFwOSGHNv6vU-ri_lMs7v4I-aCAhX86Sjx3F2Z8ENHdvy4I2grrMWwv70Jb5ctKXEkTJ_bu9bivEsC8-xQdLP9UCRaCVXKjPufa6h6Gf6LlddMQfzEB/s3024/IMG-0725.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1976" data-original-width="3024" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyNblNulKmrAjIRzwzh8U646UeiGMgAGI_TnpcGdpOFehkYVtHuVgc4xMx1FE7AH_6dB49RcGIJMFwOSGHNv6vU-ri_lMs7v4I-aCAhX86Sjx3F2Z8ENHdvy4I2grrMWwv70Jb5ctKXEkTJ_bu9bivEsC8-xQdLP9UCRaCVXKjPufa6h6Gf6LlddMQfzEB/w640-h418/IMG-0725.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>"From this moment despair ends and tactics begin"</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><b>Above</b>: <a href="https://artlyst.com/news/banksy-creates-new-london-artwork-highlighting-extinction-rebellion/ " target="_blank">Banksy mural at the Marble Arch</a>, London, April 2019, in support of Extinction Rebellion actions<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I was thinking about that--how we choose our old beliefs & habits over new realities-- as I hear people complain about actions by the climate crisis group Just Stop Oil (an outgrowth of </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Extinction Rebellion).</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><span><br />I haven't seen such actions here in MN (yet?), but they involve people blocking gas stations, throwing paint on famous works of art, etc. <br />Their idea is to draw attention through nonviolent protest to the need to take drastic & immediate action to stop environmental destruction and social breakdown.<br /><br />I see and support their point; I admire their guts; <br />but I'm not sure the tactics of these eco-activists will be very effective, given how we practice dissonance reduction. <br /><br />Still, what the hell? What have you got to lose by doing <i>something</i>?<br /></span></span><span><span>At least you can say you tried.</span></span></span></p><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-64470751272604518772023-12-12T09:38:00.028-06:002023-12-12T10:13:14.002-06:00Here in the future, Let’s build a yurt!<p><span style="font-size: large;">I have to go to work soon, but I want to blog briefly
first. I'm aiming to blog every day for the rest of December for the silly? reason that I want my
year-end count to be a bit higher than last year's--and it almost is. I
feel sad when I see declining numbers of yearly posts on blog sidebars.<br /></span></p><div><span style="font-size: large;">For my last three years, my number of posts goes:<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">379 [Covid/George Floyd year, 2020]<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">277<br />267<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This year (2023) I've published 262 posts, so I can certainly bump it past 267!<br /><br />"And, Fresca, tell us, will it be all heavy stuff you blog about?"<br /><br />Maybe, kinda, sorta? But I always want to focus on What Helps, though. That's kinda cheering, isn't it?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">And really--I am not resigned to an apocalypse or anything like that!<br /> <i>Star Trek</i> always held (holds) that some smart science is going to rescue us from ourselves, and that is certainly not inconceivable.<br />As a good Trekkie, I am going to choose to hope for that!</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />I was just emailing a friend about how I feel like I live in different worlds in my one life.<br /><br />I was comforted to read the quote,<br /><b>"The future is already here. It's just not very evenly distributed"<br /></b><span style="font-family: inherit;">––from William Gibson<a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2019/12/16/how-william-gibson-keeps-his-science-fiction-real#:~:text=Gibson%20first%20used%20the%20word,when%20he%20was%20thirty%2Dsix." target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; color: #121212; display: inline; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">, </span>whom the <i>New Yorker</i> called</a> </span>"the great prophet of the digital age." <br />(Author of <i>Neuromancer</i>, Gibson first used the word “cyberspace” in 1981.)<br /><br />From where I stand, I could even say, <br />"The end [of empire] is here, it's just not evenly distributed yet."<br /><br />And that's why I feel like I straddle different worlds, only a few miles apart---<br />from where people are living in tents to where people are living in luxury--because I literally am.<br />And it can make me feel a little crazy.<br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: large;">But
really, I'm not crazy at all: <br />There ARE NO MAPS for this. <br />Of course there never are
maps for the future, but in certain times you feel like you can see
clearly ahead, even if that's an illusion, and other times, you're aware that every step is a step into the unknown.<br /><br />Ya just gotta light out for the territory.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Mostly it helps if I focus on WHAT HELPS? here, wherever I am.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">And, WHO HELPS?<br /><br />Like Mr Rogers's mother said, "Look for the helpers".<br />Or rather, as grown ups, <b>we should look to BE the helpers.</b><br />It helps to see others being that.<br /><br />I was cheered to run into Abe at the store the other day--a young man who used to work at the store, he now works with a local Harm Reduction (HR) group. <br /><br />Harm Reduction folks are among my heroes---along with sanitation workers! Shit is happening, they acknowledge. Drugs, homelessness, mental illness, mass incarceration, climate crisis--the whole rodeo!<br /> Let's keep it from killing us too much.<br />Like, Abe's group is our source for the store's free Narcan (for opioid overdoses).<br /><br />[<a href="https://harmreduction.org/about-us/principles-of-harm-reduction/" target="_blank">Harm Reduction Principles</a>] "Your Life Matters"<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVypBuCAhrZNLBrPmMtrL2fG1awR83aegjWG97htV8tgVX7YY7yDhTSliluWGnSRGBcpXQUxsJ98f3fsZanM6Gjf4oyntfUy776KPyBqY721pRIT8CdMKQtiShnKp4E9DchmGE8ThEXT2Jt-4KD7lNRNXVdKoK5-E39PxG3LJPMFGljRy9qGVdDaYqUlCy/s598/Screen_Shot_2021-05-10_at_1_04_33_PM-removebg-preview.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="598" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVypBuCAhrZNLBrPmMtrL2fG1awR83aegjWG97htV8tgVX7YY7yDhTSliluWGnSRGBcpXQUxsJ98f3fsZanM6Gjf4oyntfUy776KPyBqY721pRIT8CdMKQtiShnKp4E9DchmGE8ThEXT2Jt-4KD7lNRNXVdKoK5-E39PxG3LJPMFGljRy9qGVdDaYqUlCy/w321-h312/Screen_Shot_2021-05-10_at_1_04_33_PM-removebg-preview.webp" width="321" /> <br /></a></div>Logo ^ from <a href="https://www.harmreductiontx.org/" target="_blank">Texas HR Alliance</a>.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I asked Abe what he's up to, and he showed me a photo of
HR's project BUILDING YURTS on empty land, to shelter people who are
forced to live outside this winter. <br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Yes, we here in the future are back to nomadic practices. They worked for thousands of years, of course.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">These yurts are heated with a barrel stove in the center.<br />"One of my Lefty kombucha-drinking coworkers got the barrels donated," Abe told me.<br /><br />"You could make a lotta kombucha in one of those barrels," I said. <br />A throwaway comment, but he laughed, and that made me happy because this guy is always so sad.<br /><br />He went on to say, "People are mammals--we should know how to handle ourselves out of doors." And he added, rather sweetly, to be inclusive of me I guess, "Even white people."<br /><br />It was my turn to laugh.<br />Abe is mixed, and I think the default image of "people" in his work/world is not-white people--like on a film negative, the reverse image from the world I've always lived in, until this job.<br /><br />People should know how to handle themselves out of doors. Yes.<br />I'd said to Em that the people on the street are getting a head jump on surviving without fossil fuels, should it come to that (say, that we run out or lose access, and can't produce the massive amounts of electricity we're used to--which is not inconceivable).<br /><br />"They will all die," she said, "because they're addicts."<br /><br />"Well, yeah, they're dying now," I said. "True. But people like Abe who are building yurts are getting a head start on the apocalypse."<br /><br />She agreed.<br /><br />But really, the cool thing about Harm Reduction practices is, if you don't need them--great! They won't hurt you.<br /><br />Yurts, Not Hurt.<br /><br />Meanwhile, here's a PDF: <a href="https://azinelibrary.org/approved/build-your-own-yurt-1.pdf" target="_blank">Build Your Own Yurt</a>. Print it out, in case the power goes out.<br /></span></div>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-89539424221508956632023-12-11T09:41:00.026-06:002023-12-11T12:06:35.116-06:00Ringing the Changes<p><span style="font-size: large;">I'd said I'd lighten up, but there's just too much to think about at this time in history that is not light in weight or wave length. Sometimes it is terrifying, but overall it is <i>fascinating</i>, don't you think?<br />And we are inside it. <br />What do we see? What do we do?<br /><br /> <b>I did a Christmas thing! </b><br />Abby, the puzzle volunteer, is one of those people who is always going to events around town, scouring out free or cheap ones. I've always turned down her invitations because I don't generally like entertainment for its own sake, and she generally goes to entertaining things.<br /> <br />I accepted one to a hand bells Christmas concert, however, because I knew nothing about hand bells (which Abby plays in her church--one of her many civic engagements). It's not entertainment, it's education!<br /><br />I went with her yesterday evening, and the bell playing really was fascinating, like watching a multipart organism: <br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">fourteen bell-ringers at their stations = ONE musical instrument. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Besides ringing the bells, the players thumped them on the table, tapped them with mallets, and set them singing round their rims like Tibetan bowls.<br />It was cool to see the close coordination--the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.<br />Also, it sounded nice.<br /><br />That was an effort to lighten up for the holidays. <br />The concert was in a Lutheran church in a rich suburb, Edina. (My mostly-quiet neighborhood drifts that way--that suburb is just a few miles from me.)<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">A respite, I thought. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />But before it started, the mayor of Edina gave a little speech</span><span style="font-size: large;">, meant to be inspirational? </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />He told us that a few weeks ago, a man with mental illness had stabbed a local man to death at a bus stop. <br />"We have an epidemic of untreated mental illness and lack of services," he said, "so people ride public transportation to keep off the streets, and that's how this man came to be in Edina. We need to be more empathetic and address this issue..."<br /><b><br />Merry fucking Christmas, ya'll!</b><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The troubles I see everyday at work </span><span style="font-size: large;">make their way into wealthy, white, supposedly safe enclaves like Edina too. Of course they do.<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">So I was thinking about that during the concert--</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><i>How do we live in times of enormous change?<br /></i></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">How did other people live in times of enormous change?</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Or create change themselves? <br />I didn't set out to read about reformers, but it only makes sense that as I read more nonfiction, I'm encountering them. They make the news.<br /><br />I'm reading a fantastic book now, <i>The Reformation</i>, by Patrick Collinson (Modern Library, 2004). I know only the scantiest about the topic--and what I know is mostly about Henry VIII and his six wives, which is a side branch.<br /><br />Oooh--look at these good Dutch covers of Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall trilogy:<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekFrjZxZRzSASvUw-q9FnKJWLteE0K3YU25koNX0UO0uBWh19IjmD3MoKpnL7TT4DwdZHtko0mL2lP5FXa0Hninl96dA7yOmVUW_qNU1rF6HKYkRuVxIlZfY6rSx4NBuMHXsvaj7c6BhbPRvSB3w4RH8dIq8Z9kLi8oxK_dqPj03_ug1mjmo-Fku-bm5O/s800/Mantel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="290" data-original-width="800" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekFrjZxZRzSASvUw-q9FnKJWLteE0K3YU25koNX0UO0uBWh19IjmD3MoKpnL7TT4DwdZHtko0mL2lP5FXa0Hninl96dA7yOmVUW_qNU1rF6HKYkRuVxIlZfY6rSx4NBuMHXsvaj7c6BhbPRvSB3w4RH8dIq8Z9kLi8oxK_dqPj03_ug1mjmo-Fku-bm5O/w640-h232/Mantel.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Collinson reminds me of Hilary Mantel in that, like her,
he reminds us that people never know what's coming next––what now seems
inevitable was</span><span style="font-size: large;"> in its
time</span><span style="font-size: large;"> one of a swirl of possibilities ––<br />and, that the main players who created the modern world were not
themselves modern people. <br /></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Theological niceties that are remote and seem ridiculous to us were as real to them as our debates about, say, Covid vaccines or the Confederate flag.<br /><br />And, "It is the beginning of wisdom" he writes, "to understand that the Reformation was not, in its own eyes, a novelty." </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">Luther was not a Lutheran any more than Christ was a Christian. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Luther
amplified changes already in play, which would lead to the modern world, but he himself,
says Collinson, had the mind of a late medieval Catholic.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Collinson is funny too:<br /><blockquote>"Ignatius Loyola, a soldier recovering from his wounds, was converted by reading religious books (there being nothing else to read) and this was followed by a series of intense religious experiences, out of which the Society of Jesus [the Jesuits] was born.<br />What if he had been killed in that battle, <i>or had found some novels to read</i>?" [ital. mine]<br /></blockquote></span><span style="font-size: large;">He's talking about historians in this quote below, but it's an invitation to anyone in history, which is everyone:<br /><blockquote> "It is not so easy to change the ... structures within
which we historians operate, although they <i>must not be allowed to become
airtight boxes in which we cease to think</i>."</blockquote></span><p><span style="font-size: large;">A</span><span style="font-size: large;">s I fall asleep over the book, </span><span style="font-size: large;">I am reminded that reformers (usually) have tremendous ENERGY. <br />Surely some bumbled into it sleepily though, like Ferdinand the Bull...<br />Examples?</span><br /></p><span style="font-size: large;"></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-91535797833928512872023-12-10T07:50:00.047-06:002023-12-10T08:58:09.341-06:00Zombie Waif Girl; & "the mere things that make us Human" <p><span style="font-size: large;">As Emmler and I left the store yesterday, one of the corner
girls approached us--one of the drug-blasted girls who wander the block selling their
services--you see them emerging from bushes in Slob Knob alley, getting in and out of
cars, doing tricks for the price of "something for the pipe".<br /><br />They buy their drugs from the nest of vipers across the street from the store. I haven't mentioned our dear neighbors for a while, but they are </span><span style="font-size: large;"> still </span><span style="font-size: large;">very much there--all of us together in the armpit of Lake Street. <br /><br />Are they ever there. A week ago Sunday, one of them shot another dead, and there was another shooting on Monday evening across the street. [News report: "<a href="https://www.kare11.com/article/news/crime/7-shootings-in-minneapolis-in-span-of-less-than-24-hours-leaves-several-people-dead-more-injured-violence/89-721c39a0-8cea-4f1e-bebd-761ca086fac6" target="_blank">7 shootings in Minneapolis in 24 hours</a>".]<br />"It happened at 5:40," a coworker told me. "</span><span style="font-size: large;">We'd just closed--</span><span style="font-size: large;">Big Boss was about to unlock the door to let me out."<br /><br />"Did you hear it? What did you do?" I said.<br /><br />"Oh, yeah!" he said. "I just waited five minutes, and then I left."<br /><br />I tell ya. There are so many shootings, we barely register them anymore. Though it must be affecting us, we at work in the center of it remain remarkably intact, or most of us do... Perhaps partly through our ability to joke with one another about it. I suppose like MASH. Also, </span><span style="font-size: large;">for anxiety, </span><span style="font-size: large;">a lot (most?) of my coworkers smoke a lot of weed. Dolls and bears are my anti-anxiety meds (not that I wouldn't be with them anyway).<br /><br />This girl who approached Em and me was like the others: so blasted, with opaque eyes, robotic speech, and open wounds on ashy skin, they are like zombies.<br />You get to recognize them, like the feral cats in the alley. Like the cats, you don't see them</span><span style="font-size: large;"> for more than a season or two.<br /><br />"You know that nice girl who always used to steal from us?" Manageress will say. "She got stabbed."<br /><br />Mostly you don't hear what happened to them though, you just notice you haven't seen them.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Once in a while, they get clean. One will come in with clear eyes, happy to shop for furniture for their first apartment in years--a crummy thrift store couch! <br />"How'd you get off the street?" I asked one.<br />"I don't know..." she said, genuinely puzzled. "God, I guess."<br /><br />Anyway, this latest waif asks for money, always saying the exact same thing to everyone. It's as if she's a programmed AI:<br />"There are ten of us living in a house, with a lot of kids. None of us have eaten in two weeks... I'm in middle school." [She looks like she's thirty, but who knows.]<br /><br />Em, who knows the scene, looked at her. <br />"There's too many extenuating circumstances in that story," she said to the waif. "I'd give you some cash, but I just spent it all on thrift. There's free bread inside, and there a lot of food shelves around.<br />Or just go steal some shit from a grocery store.<br />That's what I do when I don't have food."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Lol, I remain <i>such</i> a middle-class white lady: </span><span style="font-size: large;">I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT, stealing food! When mattdamon ran out of food one weekend, I scrounged up some cans and gave him $20, but </span><span style="font-size: large;">it simply did not occur to me to suggest he go steal some. Not like he couldn't have thought of it himself. But somehow, I don't think he did.<br /><br />(Sadly, he has since gone away and not come back. I'd lent him money another time for rent too, but I don't care one whit about that––I just wish he'd given me back<a href="https://gugeo.blogspot.com/2023/05/murderbot-recovered-sops.html" target="_blank"> the copy of Murderbot I'd altered</a>. Also, I liked him.)</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Anyway, of course it's not food the waif is after. I'd told her the store would give her free clothes too, but she's barely wearing anything warm in the cold.<br /> She doesn't seem to register anything incoming except cash, doesn't seem to speak except for her script, and she simply wandered away without a response.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Walking down the next alley, Em and I stopped to read aloud this graffiti poem on a garage across from a non-denom church [transcript below]:<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLy0G-IgOCrqfprM4PZY_s3jgPbNdKTnbk_RqLzOmSl0ufhXNWIXais5A2OwXUFmFkG8tyGEsfgJqCBZ9BAnWXI8pxn8BS1RqVn34mqO1jq0rDjPhD22wH960tqRdhnu21rqEnp7sRwpzlyIk0WVvAAvm9HJv36uE37cAu5MCjNgx_9r1ZrJnvNQz-LWYm/s1280/IMG_0715.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLy0G-IgOCrqfprM4PZY_s3jgPbNdKTnbk_RqLzOmSl0ufhXNWIXais5A2OwXUFmFkG8tyGEsfgJqCBZ9BAnWXI8pxn8BS1RqVn34mqO1jq0rDjPhD22wH960tqRdhnu21rqEnp7sRwpzlyIk0WVvAAvm9HJv36uE37cAu5MCjNgx_9r1ZrJnvNQz-LWYm/w640-h480/IMG_0715.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Josefin Sans; font-size: large;">Making a Mockery out<br />a soulful, intact, God oriented being<br />for the intertaiment (a shallow, unsubstancial, and a disease <br /> of the mind), So as to get a praise theft––)<br />that is unworthy in the eyes of God, and any fair, and rational person.<br /><br />Luckly, this soul is held intact, by the mere things that make us <br />Human (–blood, flesh, bones and eys), which are made of 100%<br />DNA of the most high.</span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />P.S. The vintage wood-handled fishing net sold yesterday. <br /></span></p><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-89576535097715188312023-12-09T13:18:00.006-06:002023-12-11T10:58:06.678-06:00P. S. The Color of Bears<p><span style="font-size: large;">Having said in this morning’s post that white, pastel, & caramel stuffed toy bears far outnumber brown and black toy bears, I decided to do a count of the bears in my Toys section today. I’d say this collection is average.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BEAR COUNT:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">13 white, pastel, or caramel; </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">4 brown or black.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">(6 white, 2 black) </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsmitVF7qY7zpvdpbm6yMs8OqlgphLSLvGoBREGZh5Em-BfmYnz89lXLfFg3VkpKwJM3H8GbNdOhDtEadbn3b_9netyeCj-j9DfDX1QfQJzIs5P8mIDw_j6apOmTmOr2e1zjpAB2T1dkD2fptyS4ybRBWUs5jBg4O2sOb5I38BmABOFqXQkOenIjD1azV/s1280/8C49BFB9-9B18-48F9-9563-C917F0291632.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1280" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsmitVF7qY7zpvdpbm6yMs8OqlgphLSLvGoBREGZh5Em-BfmYnz89lXLfFg3VkpKwJM3H8GbNdOhDtEadbn3b_9netyeCj-j9DfDX1QfQJzIs5P8mIDw_j6apOmTmOr2e1zjpAB2T1dkD2fptyS4ybRBWUs5jBg4O2sOb5I38BmABOFqXQkOenIjD1azV/w640-h352/8C49BFB9-9B18-48F9-9563-C917F0291632.jpeg" width="640" /></span></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">___________</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>UPDATE: </b>Good statisticians, of which I am not one, always factor in all possible factors (and never leap to conclusions). </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Emmler
came and helped me at work this afternoon—so nice—and afterwards we
went to her place so she could cut my hair. I’d showed her the bears
lined up by color at work, and she’d said, “Let’s dye the white ones!”
which was also Julia-Happify’s response. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">At
Em’s house I showed the bear photo to her boyfriend, and he said,
“you’re a thrift store—maybe you get more white bears because people
give those ones away more.”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Neat! I’d never thought of that! Lots of reasons people might give away more white bears, starting with the dirtiness factor.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I
looked on Amazon, and at a quick glance I’d say pastel and
honey-colored bears predominate, and the vibe I get from them is not of
race but of the babyfication of nature. “It’s cute!”</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Another friend raised the question of the difference between bears and dolls, which is also interesting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway,
I’m excited to try dyeing them—Julia uses natural dyes like turmeric
and black walnut. I used to restore stuffed thrift bears, now I will try
rewilding them.</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTNNDdfYp3mi-WRpBhVhrHJ9JbsVW6hSyzzyn7QWmw_UQHy7ezi4A7yqQTNeE7iBYK2HTsMLN4ODSPJbkvBZ_wrI4LxYem3byhMq4YPyxL6z4-rYZAFn_Gw7nJhsfXmXhkU5xN1HrFstqdUQRDHjHtbr11hutnfnpDUXAD_yet48PjFyiP8azzJdFHccj/s1280/142B23B0-723E-4319-AE24-F794B8B467F5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTNNDdfYp3mi-WRpBhVhrHJ9JbsVW6hSyzzyn7QWmw_UQHy7ezi4A7yqQTNeE7iBYK2HTsMLN4ODSPJbkvBZ_wrI4LxYem3byhMq4YPyxL6z4-rYZAFn_Gw7nJhsfXmXhkU5xN1HrFstqdUQRDHjHtbr11hutnfnpDUXAD_yet48PjFyiP8azzJdFHccj/s320/142B23B0-723E-4319-AE24-F794B8B467F5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Above:</b> Another Emmler look-alike. The teapot face wearing a cap lid was an Xmas present from me.</span></div><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-63258179038189021612023-12-09T10:00:00.085-06:002023-12-09T11:29:51.734-06:00Donations: Fabric, Toys, and the Whiteness of Bears <div class="aj35ze" style="transform: rotateZ(-180deg);"></div><div class="L3Ezfd" data-ved="2ahUKEwiz-ZDHwoKDAxUVrYkEHV5rA7sQuk56BAgNEAI" style="visibility: hidden;"></div><div class="aj35ze" style="transform: rotateZ(-180deg);"></div><div class="L3Ezfd" data-ved="2ahUKEwiTyPzDwoKDAxXZl4kEHcN2CiMQuk56BAgBEAI" style="visibility: hidden;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">First, an article in the <i>Guardian </i>with stories about funny photos of wildlife (not staged pet photos): "The wild true <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/dec/09/wild-true-stories-21-funniest-animal-photos" target="_blank">stories behind the 21 funniest animal photos</a> of all time".<br />I like best the mice squabbling in the London underground.<br />_______________<br /><br /><b>I. Barkcloth.</b><br /><br />An unusual and cool donation came in this week: <br />three large pieces of never-used, vintage barkcloth. Mid-century modern (MCM) design is still in, and barkcloth sells for a lot online.</span></span><br /><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">As a test, I priced the smallest (3 yards) piece, <i>below</i>, at $32. It sold in three days.<br /><br />Isn't it funny how our personal tastes change over our lifetime? <br />This ferny piece is splendid! I might have bought it for myself when I was in my twenties. But these days I'm preferring the geometric patterns of old wool blankets.<br />I still might buy barkcloth with space-age </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">atomic </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">designs, though. These were all botanicals.<br /></span></span></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbahdHmJok34XzQvVjGtTTCVOPGgjziSMVKmrY71g5wBTyJo7eJvVAi_nReCu_d5MV0RvHKKddzJUAJFOtf9wOUlqoO2h03NMmrUuDX6SLmsKLBqOXJd88TUDi-nnKZR9OwClQGY5SuPyz4_hcpgTb3ps0e7yTe5mcTv-cZObHPLWVFkkrrKJ-yprGqBsG/s3576/IMG_0693.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3576" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbahdHmJok34XzQvVjGtTTCVOPGgjziSMVKmrY71g5wBTyJo7eJvVAi_nReCu_d5MV0RvHKKddzJUAJFOtf9wOUlqoO2h03NMmrUuDX6SLmsKLBqOXJd88TUDi-nnKZR9OwClQGY5SuPyz4_hcpgTb3ps0e7yTe5mcTv-cZObHPLWVFkkrrKJ-yprGqBsG/w542-h640/IMG_0693.heic" width="542" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><br /><b>Barkcloth</b> is a densely woven cloth with a rough texture similar to an older fabric made of the inner bark of trees, beaten into sheets. <br />By the late 1930's, </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">it was especially popular
in Hawaii (taken over by the US in the 1890s),</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> replacing traditional Hawaiian kapa (bark cloth) </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">made from wauke, the paper mulberry plant, in a time-consuming, labor-intensive method.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> <br />US military personnel stationed in Hawaii during World War II
often sent barkcloth home. [<a href="http://www.handmadejane.co.uk/2015/02/all-about-bark-cloth.html" target="_blank">per </a>Handmade Jane, who has a round-up of prints].</span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><br /> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span>BELOW From the <a href="https://www.britishmuseum.org/blog/reimagining-tahitian-mourning-costume" target="_blank">British Museum</a>, "A Tahitian Mourning Costume": A watercolor of the dress of the chief mourner, with striped barkcloth dress and cape, painted by Herman Diedrich Sporing, who accompanied Capt. James Cook on his first voyage to Tahiti in 1773. <br /><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJ4ZRfgxadByXLkXeKxVklBhBXOk8o8HQm8BfhvEEQmAqB75-N1zpxTkhCz7SZv29rmTPzu5HlyNChKngXIHLtVPVCu2aeuVItYgTVqYblrCPaaWKH-HZ2mDPFgFB9tprhb_llQz9ceJk1PfFYXuJRm_ixb53Z4ARlB1G5KwflHL-4QxelxTJQTQyGycn/s1024/Heva-mourning-costume-watercolour-729x1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="729" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKJ4ZRfgxadByXLkXeKxVklBhBXOk8o8HQm8BfhvEEQmAqB75-N1zpxTkhCz7SZv29rmTPzu5HlyNChKngXIHLtVPVCu2aeuVItYgTVqYblrCPaaWKH-HZ2mDPFgFB9tprhb_llQz9ceJk1PfFYXuJRm_ixb53Z4ARlB1G5KwflHL-4QxelxTJQTQyGycn/w456-h640/Heva-mourning-costume-watercolour-729x1024.jpg" width="456" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><b>II. DOLLS & Bears</b><br /><br />This week we also got a gaylord (huge industrial box) of new toys from Costco. I was excited––new toys!––until I saw they were all RETURNS, mostly electric toys with return stickers on them saying Does Not Work. <br />Great. More plastic crap.<br /><br />You don't know why they don't work--it could easily be the buyers didn't know how to set it up, or it could be something unfixable.<br />A coworker took home a set of Mario Bros. racing cars and said that they just needed batteries...<br /><br />I priced all the boxed toys cheap--2, 3, 4 dollars--and wrote "As Is" on the stickers.<br /> It should go without saying that everything in a thrift store is "as is"--and we do have a 7-day, return-for-store-credit policy. Some people are fierce about insisting on cash back, but this is the only hard and fast rule at the store: No cash is ever given out. <br /><br /></span><span>I got pretty well caught up with incoming TOYS, so y</span><span>esterday I pulled out the box where I throw modern, plastic dolls donated without clothes. </span><span>I set aside incoming doll clothes too. </span><span> Naked dolls don't sell, so every once in a while I dress them. They're everything from baby dolls to fashion dolls (Barbies & Bratz) to big American Girls type (usually the cheaper "Our Generation" dolls). <br />Matching dolls to fashions and sizes can take some time.<br /><br />I'd also set aside some vintage Dolls of the World type dolls. (I'm reflected in the cabinet mirror, <i>below</i>.) </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZI54PFZeAr7cnbQaYfefyZ_NzguUR3vgyZOSwVA3njXFaZEdRj8isSXCbdJ1SmBicaNs0Ipr3dQS0E8Ya1MEv6pKf-5QlRuwE36vaK2p_e2wVpIciGyNMWpDQBNNreHrmF8bZJQpP2ClePloHKnd3n4ERPI7p64IWGeE1mlDWAeB6LvXBUcovPWiSX9t/s4032/IMG_0694.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZI54PFZeAr7cnbQaYfefyZ_NzguUR3vgyZOSwVA3njXFaZEdRj8isSXCbdJ1SmBicaNs0Ipr3dQS0E8Ya1MEv6pKf-5QlRuwE36vaK2p_e2wVpIciGyNMWpDQBNNreHrmF8bZJQpP2ClePloHKnd3n4ERPI7p64IWGeE1mlDWAeB6LvXBUcovPWiSX9t/w480-h640/IMG_0694.heic" width="480" /></a></span><br /><br /><b>III. The Whiteness of Bears</b><br /><br />Are Dolls of the World racially stereotyped? <br />Sometimes. <br /><br />People <i>aren't</i> being touchy and 'over-woke' by pointing out that this can be hurtful or cause harm. <br />I can see that that's true--handling donated dolls & toys for a few years now, I can see how their message is "this is what normal looks like". And while this is changing, the repeated-over-and-over vision of normal remains Cute 'n' White.<br />So I'm okay with Dolls of the World.<br /><br />Also, you know, sometimes we just <i>love</i> things, even if they have a difficult backstory. This includes loving people. So, fine!<br />Reality is complicated.<br /><br />But even stuffed toy bears way, way more often come in white, pastel, or caramel colors than the dark browns or blacks of most real bears. <br />(In the wild,</span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> <span style="font-size: large;">more <a href="https://westernwildlife.org/black-bear-ursus-americanus/" target="_blank">North American black bears</a> exist––one million!–– than all other bears on earth combined</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">. There are </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span><span>200,000 Brown Bears, which includes grizzlies. <br />White polar bears? 20,000.)<br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4BykrwTZn7FC58XWamJvPN_kSyEDbKNXR2ViidOTqp14i9ZSjEFLfTCHXl2RqxH7qwHZ32__f16PqPsGtmS_lv70ZYF52T6ZmP6GNWguHMl1mhAzOxjTra0pZqnBAC3xgsLjBRktmPOHU8K5zmgyxlHV66QFiuZGSaRNbXSIy7IBKmTdgelDj8sIrajb/s640/photo-5-BBonLog_StevenKazlowski.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="640" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw4BykrwTZn7FC58XWamJvPN_kSyEDbKNXR2ViidOTqp14i9ZSjEFLfTCHXl2RqxH7qwHZ32__f16PqPsGtmS_lv70ZYF52T6ZmP6GNWguHMl1mhAzOxjTra0pZqnBAC3xgsLjBRktmPOHU8K5zmgyxlHV66QFiuZGSaRNbXSIy7IBKmTdgelDj8sIrajb/w640-h428/photo-5-BBonLog_StevenKazlowski.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I hear people say this is incidental. "It's just a toy."<br />I tell you, from where I stand, no, it's not. There's a thing going on here, oh yeah. It's relentless.<br />But I mostly hear it talked about </span><span style="font-size: large;">(and experience it) </span><span style="font-size: large;">from a <i>white</i> perspective... <br /><br />In
the store's neighborhood, where white is the minority, it looks different. I love to put out
dolls and toys that look like the customers, even if in some political contexts these might be deemed racist.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> <span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I
see Native people buying Native dolls like the one 2 photos up, for
instance, that might make a white academic-type such as myself nervous.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Some coworkers ask me to save them Black dolls for the kids in their lives. There aren't that many.<br /><br />Side note: EVERYBODY LOVES BABY YODA.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>When
racist toys and images <i>clearly intended</i> to be harmful come in (not that often), I save them for my
art historian friend Allan, who gives it to a teacher who works in
cultural representation.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I have to go to work so haven't read the article in the <i>Paris Review</i>: "<a href="https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/05/28/addy-walker-american-girl/" target="_blank">Addy Walker, American Girl</a>: </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">The role of black dolls in American culture,</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>" 2015, by Brit Bennett, the Black woman author also of a 2014 essay, "</span></span><a href="https://jezebel.com/i-dont-know-what-to-do-with-good-white-people-1671201391" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">I Don't Know What to Do With Good White People</span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span>".<br /><br />In that essay, Bennett writes this, <i>below</i>, which reminds me of how some people dismiss
my question, "Why are toy bears disproportionally white?":<br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><blockquote>"I often hear good white people ask why people of color must make
everything about race, as if we enjoy considering racism as a
motivation. I wish I never had to cycle through these small interactions
and wonder: <br />Am I overthinking? Am I just being paranoid? <br />It's
exhausting."<br /></blockquote></span><span style="font-size: large;"><p><span style="font-size: large;">And,
Bennett addresses a phrase that drives me crazy (besides the above "you're overthinking"; and also, "they're doing their best"):<br /> <i>"They mean well."<br /></i><br /> Like,
hurt that is not intentional doesn't count? Like, we aren't responsible
for our actions if we DON'T THINK (or, god forbid, "overthink") about what they mean? <br />But isn't it a
mark of the intelligence and humane-ness upon which a good society is built <b>to think</b> about what we do, and why we do it (and how we could do it differently)? <br />So doesn't that make
"meaning well" an insult?<br /><br />Bennett thinks so:<br /></span></p></span><span style="font-size: large;"><blockquote>" 'You know what? He means well,' we say. <br />We lean on this, and the phrase
is so condescending, so cloyingly sweet, so hollow, that I'd almost
rather anyone say anything else about me...."</blockquote></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Btw, where are all these people who are "overthinking"? <br />I mostly meet the other kind.<br />__________________________<br /><br />More things to look at and read:<br /><br />Looking for discussions of
race and dolls, I stumbled into the world of <a href="https://www.nyhistory.org/exhibitions/black-dolls-0" target="_blank">Black Dolls--here, an exhibit</a> by the New York Historical Society. We get some of these donated sometimes, like the topsy-turvy dolls. Not usually antiques, but there have been a couple.<br /><br /> I'm excited to look more at the work of Leo Moss, a doll artist </span>in Macon, Georgia, working in the late 1800s––early 1900s.<span>
Moss transformed mass-produced white dolls into Black dolls--not just
painting them but remolding their features. An article about X-raying
Moss's dolls: <a href="https://aperturephotoarts.com/leo-moss/">aperturephotoarts.com/leo-moss</a>.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>And here, the <a href="https://nbdmhc.org/" target="_blank">National Black Doll Museum</a>. </span></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>But now I must go to work!<br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Oh, darn--it just started to very lightly snow... <br />I don't care (I do)––I'm biking anyway.<br /></span><p></p><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-46544037372226274712023-12-08T10:10:00.022-06:002023-12-09T07:41:24.002-06:00Random bits of light<p><span style="font-size: large;">A coupla few things wandering around on my laptop...<br /><br />BELOW: Donations at work with old television references. <i><br /></i>"Just the facts/VAX, ma'am"<i>: Dragnet</i> was before my time. But my parents liked <i>The Avengers</i> when I was little. <br />Memories of Emma Peel (Diana Rigg) surfaced when I first watched <i>Detectorists </i>in 2014, with Rigg's daughter, Rachael Stirling, in it. She looks and sounds so much like her mother--and Rigg appears briefly in it later, too.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1cFCbxUtY6b42P_bAshdo64Kuwa9oU73Bj-DZxUdcvzq6AapoHP9-0emlWZu7pMbuxEGQsxiKdnEzx9L-WZj4u3hIRMwl3fpcWNV0yUcatyu6CfF3COSGdV4PwWskRuU7HFsoPnY_fR5Ya7Q2xnLtQeR5nyp919FQZzLPmuR1q3hmokWxHsywWUR2VO-/s2140/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-08%20at%209.15.44%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1282" data-original-width="2140" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1cFCbxUtY6b42P_bAshdo64Kuwa9oU73Bj-DZxUdcvzq6AapoHP9-0emlWZu7pMbuxEGQsxiKdnEzx9L-WZj4u3hIRMwl3fpcWNV0yUcatyu6CfF3COSGdV4PwWskRuU7HFsoPnY_fR5Ya7Q2xnLtQeR5nyp919FQZzLPmuR1q3hmokWxHsywWUR2VO-/w640-h384/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-08%20at%209.15.44%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">____________________________<br /><br /><b>R.i.p. Bob Janssen </b>(photo below from his <a href="https://www.startribune.com/a-minnesota-birding-pioneer-expert-and-author-dies-at-91/600316801/" target="_blank">Strib obit</a>) <br />I worked with Bob at Steeple People thrift store for three years--my mending friend Julia-happify and he were good friends. <br />He was an expert on birds, author of <span><i>Birds</i> of <i>Minnesota</i> and other bird books.<br /> I asked him how he was once, and he said, fine.<br />"How are the birds?" I continued.<br />"Things are not good for the birds," he said. <br />No doubt, no doubt. But not for the lack of his efforts. A good guy.<br /><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVzcDW1QcCLGOuBlve6WYsc_RnnTs_ejnjBosLOq7R32kWtfzAKmHUzHWT4kh0ABmBYlQ02aFEWYPQV-6giCK0CRh8hjS7khRMocn3OmNEUIRSxd5QoiQ1xQEi-ua2xF8NOZF0oN42ABVK-ucwDERqUMmlyvWoRTTGR7gbKT78R65658QtpylUj2Ocxg4/s797/IMG_0588.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVzcDW1QcCLGOuBlve6WYsc_RnnTs_ejnjBosLOq7R32kWtfzAKmHUzHWT4kh0ABmBYlQ02aFEWYPQV-6giCK0CRh8hjS7khRMocn3OmNEUIRSxd5QoiQ1xQEi-ua2xF8NOZF0oN42ABVK-ucwDERqUMmlyvWoRTTGR7gbKT78R65658QtpylUj2Ocxg4/w321-h400/IMG_0588.jpeg" width="321" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">________________<br /><br />BELOW: I'd come across this old photo recently and sent it to my sister--<b>our father and me</b> at my apartment at Christmastime, 2013, when he was 82. (He died four years later.) <br />He'd brought me wine and Grand Marnier as a present. <br /> No one in my family was a big drinker--I've been thinking how little I know of alcoholism from direct experience.<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvFHbA7IHVRE1OQK3WDjNEuNteIQaf-wh6sH-obSa8ZJ5tbR0juhmwM4jq-8-jeyobhPYCjLhPbM_l2u4VyFfTyyM3KZ8hYd1tnI8yNhnlOc7U68zogwhw5Q7JqM_CICYtIkwuVXoJmiTvaemZaERjzuq33-jHcLHRIsUfrkgh-MtNNJB9ejBWsh2dodA/s400/IMG_0618.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLvFHbA7IHVRE1OQK3WDjNEuNteIQaf-wh6sH-obSa8ZJ5tbR0juhmwM4jq-8-jeyobhPYCjLhPbM_l2u4VyFfTyyM3KZ8hYd1tnI8yNhnlOc7U68zogwhw5Q7JqM_CICYtIkwuVXoJmiTvaemZaERjzuq33-jHcLHRIsUfrkgh-MtNNJB9ejBWsh2dodA/w400-h300/IMG_0618.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">We weren't close, but I suppose we were fond of each other. At any rate, we're alike in many ways. He was playful, and he loved toys! He could be broody & touchy though, and so can I. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />My father loved Christmas, which he spent alone, by choice. (My mother had left the family when he was forty-three and I was thirteen. Both of them had other relationships but never remarried.)<br /><br />He always decorated a live tree, and he made himself roast beef with Yorkshire pudding for Christmas Eve.<br />He would approve of my Christmas Fern, <i>below</i>.<br /><br />I know Boston ferns are sensitive to touch, but mine has thrived despite a lot of jostling over the past couple years... I'm hoping the lightweight garland of silver stars won't make it unhappy. <br />The glass tree topper is mounted on a stake.</span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxa3ObYQ0QveePg7AgI-r62sgwUQtQXSMYx7xapO50bYt8la961Hip9GIGgcWAAHI04TZHDifIG8cB1WUrRhgkyOjYBv2c2-PyRyOZtZVDBj8IH7IjFB3X9eDzLx8LWoMGk-K-qCE2eBpykya0CtIwTplq9tL0J2e0xAQ9srJBIfcEHVm_VY_0Uo1Ei1o/s1280/3C9A9840-178C-4DFA-9ADD-31C2E8031C46.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxa3ObYQ0QveePg7AgI-r62sgwUQtQXSMYx7xapO50bYt8la961Hip9GIGgcWAAHI04TZHDifIG8cB1WUrRhgkyOjYBv2c2-PyRyOZtZVDBj8IH7IjFB3X9eDzLx8LWoMGk-K-qCE2eBpykya0CtIwTplq9tL0J2e0xAQ9srJBIfcEHVm_VY_0Uo1Ei1o/w640-h640/3C9A9840-178C-4DFA-9ADD-31C2E8031C46.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I've been sad and slow lately. </span><span style="font-size: large;">In my emotional lethargy, I have to sort of force myself to do them, but </span><span style="font-size: large;">making these little lightful efforts does bring cheer up alongside the sadness. <br /><br />Oh--a bit of good news: <br />Yesterday bink FINALLY tested negative for Covid, after two weeks. She still feels a little gunky but is overall well.</span><br /></div>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-86839639291946641102023-12-07T18:12:00.024-06:002023-12-07T19:59:03.777-06:00Opening Night<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">Penny Cooper read the lease for Apartment 320, where we live now, and it says No Candles. <br /><br />With Hannukah approaching, great concern arises.<br />Meetings are held, and a </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">contingent representing those who most love to set things on fire come forth.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">"We request an exemption," they say, "because we are Zoroastrians!"</span></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">The delegates are hurriedly recalled, and hushed consultation ensues.<br />The delegation returns.<br />"... Because we are Jewish."<br /> And for good measure they throw in, "Also, Orphans!"<br /><br />(They aren't any religion, really, not actually caring about that human stuff. But they <i>do</i> love holidays.)<br /><br />Today, with Hannukah starting at sundown, I find an electric menorah at work, and thus whoever controls Miracles & Wonders shows themselves to be responsive to the hearts of dolls and bears, and to subscribe to the old wisdom:<br />The show must go on!<br /><br />Golda the bear and the girlettes struggle to untangle the cord of the electric menorah before the sun sets<br />"Silly bear!"<br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Oyc335Vv9jMgqb7hurPKUauBq7Nqe-s7P8BrdE4FXdNUHAhHbOHZ-BeCyb4N8ly24JbWFDsZT92-Eutaj4TYOek7iZmRua3nU54eOfg7yb-S1LG8H3-AUtJmE-Ihh4oG-KKOBLFSVPzlPlwPfWVB7aK_Q6J4Q_dRrPk9JgSR4BTdh2v79MhfBzLkBoRe/s1280/IMG_0679.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Oyc335Vv9jMgqb7hurPKUauBq7Nqe-s7P8BrdE4FXdNUHAhHbOHZ-BeCyb4N8ly24JbWFDsZT92-Eutaj4TYOek7iZmRua3nU54eOfg7yb-S1LG8H3-AUtJmE-Ihh4oG-KKOBLFSVPzlPlwPfWVB7aK_Q6J4Q_dRrPk9JgSR4BTdh2v79MhfBzLkBoRe/w480-h640/IMG_0679.jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br />BELOW: A moment of panic. "This outlet was not designed for toys! We lack the height!"<br />But circus experience comes in handy, and a solution is found.<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_D_Uvpd8Maj4nfrIHlIRiFXsH43j99Zs_tj6v3oLSYCy8iL_KynCJofRCnvuMh_vexwIhYiMONyGvRjszpUgBjW1HZCxhSFpm25_ndcnBpDP0rziD8O27yFUXIKxC1nBne-TCMR9kkKxilbiPX7-ijjSYaeaMiHV0WZlQCvW_FB4ns39j5nbzEhk-mNsI/s1280/IMG_0683.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_D_Uvpd8Maj4nfrIHlIRiFXsH43j99Zs_tj6v3oLSYCy8iL_KynCJofRCnvuMh_vexwIhYiMONyGvRjszpUgBjW1HZCxhSFpm25_ndcnBpDP0rziD8O27yFUXIKxC1nBne-TCMR9kkKxilbiPX7-ijjSYaeaMiHV0WZlQCvW_FB4ns39j5nbzEhk-mNsI/w640-h480/IMG_0683.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />And, ta-da!<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMiAVHSneNZhu2S5WuIR-07ztnBygDMtKg-yYJWrRPfOE4rOS5IzhUPoMoZTbzNzYU_ZP7K-1urd7MTYpNbK_9jAmf_rtaWxF4ew4PTI1yH4j9lCJ7ISHW6BwqQHKqcZy8skpspXTXj4FJdxLZmP5LmLQD8jGugHHrMDk6b4crKLh5C1urMrilFhMgBQW/s1280/IMG_0689.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1232" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMiAVHSneNZhu2S5WuIR-07ztnBygDMtKg-yYJWrRPfOE4rOS5IzhUPoMoZTbzNzYU_ZP7K-1urd7MTYpNbK_9jAmf_rtaWxF4ew4PTI1yH4j9lCJ7ISHW6BwqQHKqcZy8skpspXTXj4FJdxLZmP5LmLQD8jGugHHrMDk6b4crKLh5C1urMrilFhMgBQW/w616-h640/IMG_0689.jpeg" width="616" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />The bulbs twist on and off, so every night you can light a new candle.<br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><b>P.S.</b> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><b>6:17 p.m.</b></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> Oh, wow! I set the menorah in the window, and JUST NOW I heard children's voices, passing by </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> on the sidewalk outside</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">, and a woman--their mother?--said in a voice of happy surprise, <br />"Oh, look! They have a menorah!"<br /><br />It brought tears to my eyes to think we've shared this little bit of light and hope and praise.<br />____________</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">And so, now it is dark, and I offer my personal favorite prayer for dark times. <br /><br /><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Watch, Creator, with
those who work or wake or weep tonight. <br />Give the angels and saints
charge over those who sleep. <br />Tend Your sick ones,
rest Your weary ones, bless Your dying ones,<br /> Soothe the suffering ones,
pity all the afflicted ones, <br />Shield the joyful ones, and all for Your
love's sake. <br /><br />Amen.</span></span></span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-36406917132653327932023-12-07T09:53:00.020-06:002023-12-07T10:22:05.431-06:00Some Things<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b> I. Introductions</b><br />Hey, darlings, <br />A few new people have commented lately--welcome!<br /><br /> If I haven't met you before, and you don't blog yourself, would you take a moment to introduce yourself, next time you comment? <br />Just a brief intro, like, how did you land here, where are you from? (Thanks, Ceci, for doing that.)<br />I'd enjoy that--thanks! <br /><br />It's a funny phenomenon: <br />bloggers make themselves very visible, and readers may feel they know them--(I have almost 70 </span><a href="https://gugeo.blogspot.com/search/label/about%20me" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">"about me" </span></a><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://gugeo.blogspot.com/search/label/about%20me" target="_blank">posts</a>)––but to the blogger, new commenters arrive as total strangers out of the blue. <br />It can also happen with friends who read a blog but who don't blog themselves that there's an imbalance in how much info one person has about the other.<br />Not a<i> bad</i> thing, just something to watch for.<br /><b><br />II. Thrift Things<br /><br />1. In which I am entirely wrong about a price.</b><br /><br />Every so often we get donations from a consignment antique store--things that didn't sell and that the original owners don't want back. They'll often come with the antique store's prices on them, which is helpful--if they're in my areas, I'll mark them maybe a quarter of that price.<br /><br />These old animals made of real skins came to me as "toys". They had no price.<br />How much would YOU price them?<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Cfqr9pvDW-l2pBxL6Hhxcd21sm1625AN1d_yoSpc682ns88gQMfGSzqgnzitxKqOeQRTOhf5_SETXlK6xvt8dNVpAp79m71RZILfbKqsiGQbaUqoRLqMewvDb1MO71nOuXPLITev2kaaYtnnAutpwmKT1vNRJu1fDlm0zEjYf5LVNIZwY65TBSjbjjqa/s1280/IMG_0671.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Cfqr9pvDW-l2pBxL6Hhxcd21sm1625AN1d_yoSpc682ns88gQMfGSzqgnzitxKqOeQRTOhf5_SETXlK6xvt8dNVpAp79m71RZILfbKqsiGQbaUqoRLqMewvDb1MO71nOuXPLITev2kaaYtnnAutpwmKT1vNRJu1fDlm0zEjYf5LVNIZwY65TBSjbjjqa/w480-h640/IMG_0671.jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">Manageress said she'd price them $2.99, but I went with $9.99 because the panda is so darn cute, and the wildebeest & zebra's eyes are hand-painted glass. But with their old skins, I found them a little creepy.<br /><br />I came in the next day (yesterday) to see them repriced $19.99, and put on the shelves behind the cashier where special (stealable) things go--the work of Volunteer Art, who does art.<br /><br />I didn't mind. Art & I have sometimes struggled for control (mostly over space), but this was fine--I was just baffled.<br />"If someone pays that, I'll eat my hat," I said to Louisiana. <br />"That man's crazy," she agreed.<br /><br />A couple hours later, someone bought all three.<br /><br />"If you eat half your hat, I'll help you eat the other," Louisiana said.<br /><br /><b>2. Faces <br /><br /></b>The camera on my old (new-to-me) iphone 7 is good but not great--it wasn't until I looked at this photo this morning that I saw it's out of focus. But <span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Oceania: Art of the Pacific Islands</i><i> in the MMA</i> sold yesterday ($3.99), so I'm going to post the photo as-is because I love related-looking faces. <a href="https://gugeo.blogspot.com/2023/11/faces-places.html" target="_blank">Like the side-by-side</a> Yoruba queen & the boy from Belarus.<br /></span><br />Here, both faces have eyebrows set close above eyes, bulbous noses, thin lips, prominent chins... <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBT9_X2a2gG_KCsK0J2ssoAleKPfXdldHtZMphDzplGGiujx1_O4ayxyuDztSXEoBNbsvWvUVB9UTcywbyUzF8VP8YCiZ4an5wdAqNpLHSmklVqrnNaMJEDTK8_0_L2z3T3ZXe2TLlRLRw6Clmav-UuwzR0lBAvOUQUbmQCL-Hf56936WxjLjKQEIrW6Rs/s1280/IMG_0662.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="781" data-original-width="1280" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBT9_X2a2gG_KCsK0J2ssoAleKPfXdldHtZMphDzplGGiujx1_O4ayxyuDztSXEoBNbsvWvUVB9UTcywbyUzF8VP8YCiZ4an5wdAqNpLHSmklVqrnNaMJEDTK8_0_L2z3T3ZXe2TLlRLRw6Clmav-UuwzR0lBAvOUQUbmQCL-Hf56936WxjLjKQEIrW6Rs/w640-h390/IMG_0662.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><b>ABOVE, <i>left</i></b>: a Rembrandt self-portrait, <br /> and,<b><i> right</i></b> [<a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/313658?pos=4" target="_blank">full photo & more info here</a>, and many more fab photos from the book]: "a
whale ivory figurine of a woman, from the Ha’apai Islands of Tonga, known
as <i>’otua fefine</i>, a term used to describe prominent female ancestors who were venerated as divine beings". </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b> 3. Candidate for Re-Writing Public Prose <br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwW_Fz8ok4ROzJuxbIGF_we_OEVC_Cz4Tha_bb8Jun42ypNifWHztJ3Tm3McXnkGBXigyGaoYPcRsHZHFM_Csld8UxaODGkFuClLJwuPvC26QARp_YMq72Nmue8b75CaMjpCyt5d2Obou5C9gYLlcBTIfvzHkWu2szB2L0cX9-l5qBTiy2Ji_kPq1id20/s1280/IMG_0666.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1062" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKwW_Fz8ok4ROzJuxbIGF_we_OEVC_Cz4Tha_bb8Jun42ypNifWHztJ3Tm3McXnkGBXigyGaoYPcRsHZHFM_Csld8UxaODGkFuClLJwuPvC26QARp_YMq72Nmue8b75CaMjpCyt5d2Obou5C9gYLlcBTIfvzHkWu2szB2L0cX9-l5qBTiy2Ji_kPq1id20/w532-h640/IMG_0666.jpeg" width="532" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Well, hell, I could finish a half-marathon in a few months too.<br /><br />4. BELOW: </span><span style="font-size: large;">This antique<b> hand-held fishing net </b>makes me ache, it is so
beautiful, the love of the machine––its bent-wood teardrop hoop with cotton net running in a runnel all
around the edge (you can just see the indent on the left edge).</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKKw0UYePoWNp9OtXIXYdFs0xQmpCrYNp6mFNsJP7vdSfjsx4XA6As6ebQQW4KUSYHU7RVgbroPEHFG2QPJgUIvieGvDPiPu5cExsBfV7bi4NTC4kCA9Ty-lsuIGYDQx_C9vHQ9Hb4DOzhnenwl9vuegmfK8cK2hksnMOAHqxpAgcCJaWWPtHhrS6G91W/s1280/IMG_0667.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZKKw0UYePoWNp9OtXIXYdFs0xQmpCrYNp6mFNsJP7vdSfjsx4XA6As6ebQQW4KUSYHU7RVgbroPEHFG2QPJgUIvieGvDPiPu5cExsBfV7bi4NTC4kCA9Ty-lsuIGYDQx_C9vHQ9Hb4DOzhnenwl9vuegmfK8cK2hksnMOAHqxpAgcCJaWWPtHhrS6G91W/w480-h640/IMG_0667.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></b>The maker's mark is worn off. I looked up nets--this is a "landing net"--for scooping up the fish on the end of your line--I see they're often for fly fishing in rivers, but from "any kind of watercraft" too.<br />I priced it $25, which is a good deal.<br /><br />Things like this, I wonder if I'll regret not buying them.<br /> But while I love this net as an object, I care nothing about fishing. It's better it go to someone who loves it for itself.<br /></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-30155558454029475052023-12-06T10:07:00.039-06:002023-12-07T10:19:16.687-06:00Bouillon Cup, & the presumption of good<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Etiquette requires the presumption of good <br />until the contrary is proven.” <br /> – Emily Post </span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">___________________<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I. Soup on the Rails</b><br /><br />The mysteries of thrift! <br />I brought home this double-handed cup, because the (defunct) Soo Line railway was based here in Minneapolis. <br />I thought it was for drinking coffee on lurching trains, but bink informed me two handles = bouillon cup.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMnBy12nliVWVGoX7rFbPe4ttKkKM0_Tj3qgcaAqAY-UuUipSfbmo8nKH7RsDYchebB9S-em2Bo2_DqfyALEYXm5dkRbWzqz_cHCLCwO_fBcJIPW9FBf7lrOTO__nvlTf_YKAai8Ka48NgUIK9VUNAwR81TkJOZKeTvGRKs9iE6UMRmt8GFKIiR61kwGvf/s1816/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-06%20at%208.36.59%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1816" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMnBy12nliVWVGoX7rFbPe4ttKkKM0_Tj3qgcaAqAY-UuUipSfbmo8nKH7RsDYchebB9S-em2Bo2_DqfyALEYXm5dkRbWzqz_cHCLCwO_fBcJIPW9FBf7lrOTO__nvlTf_YKAai8Ka48NgUIK9VUNAwR81TkJOZKeTvGRKs9iE6UMRmt8GFKIiR61kwGvf/w640-h350/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-06%20at%208.36.59%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />I was dubious, but she's right. From Emily Post’s “<i>Etiquette</i>”:
</span><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">“Soup at luncheon is never served in soup plates, but in
<b>two-handled cups</b>. It is eaten with a teaspoon or <i>a bouillon spoon</i> [ital mine], or
after it has cooled sufficiently, the cup may be picked up. <br />It is almost
always a clear soup: in the winter, a bouillon, turtle soup, or
consommé, and in the summer, a chilled soup such as jellied consommé or madrilène.”<br />--From <a href="https://myauctionfinds.com/2014/12/29/bouillon-cup-too-big-for-tea-too-small-for-hearty-soup/" target="_blank">My Auction Finds</a></span> </p></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">A <i>bouillon spoon</i>? NOW I NEED A BOUILLON SPOON!<br /><br />And, from <a href=" https://emilypost.substack.com/p/the-saturday-sip-november-4-2023" target="_blank">"Emily Post Etiquette"</a> on substack: <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4rFa2TwKvR_UTefopRP7lp9CPzdclqzGp-sCeHvTB0brU4HtGrJbmZUkatAlGsqZEqoZczrcWGbjIQ90Z7AcUrSYYc6fzIWzaQ_xpCX5hAa9vDGb73GJ3VWIkcJpPj3wKIsXsvYdmANhCui2OeekLRO54e0HrYLYyFMzKgyty6aKZpt8xcrPH4Wse_L_/s624/fb1aac4a-dad1-4982-b3f2-970c7cd4b54f_800x800%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="576" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4rFa2TwKvR_UTefopRP7lp9CPzdclqzGp-sCeHvTB0brU4HtGrJbmZUkatAlGsqZEqoZczrcWGbjIQ90Z7AcUrSYYc6fzIWzaQ_xpCX5hAa9vDGb73GJ3VWIkcJpPj3wKIsXsvYdmANhCui2OeekLRO54e0HrYLYyFMzKgyty6aKZpt8xcrPH4Wse_L_/w295-h320/fb1aac4a-dad1-4982-b3f2-970c7cd4b54f_800x800%20copy.jpg" width="295" /></a> <br /></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">The Soo Line wasn't primarily a passenger service. According to the <a href="http://www2.mnhs.org/library/findaids/00343.xml" target="_blank">MN Historical Society</a>, it carried
grain and timber thru the upper Midwest and
connected with the Canadian Pacific (CP) Railway. <br />On Soo + CP, you could travel from Mpls. to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan [<a href="https://www.trains.com/ctr/photos-videos/photos/great-passenger-trains/soo-line-gallery/" target="_blank">via</a>]. I wish we still could.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">The co. formed in 1888 as the Minneapolis, St. Paul &
Sault Ste. Marie Railway Company--M.St.P.&S.S.M.--known as the <b>Soo
Line––</b><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><b>after the phonetic spelling of 'Sault'</b></span></span>.<br /><br />I see cups like mine on railway-collectibles sites for $35. <br />I paid 49¢ . . . because we know nothing and don't care.<br /><br /><b>II. Off the Rails</b><br /><br />I feel alone at work.<br /> I miss Ass't Man, I realized yesterday. I think that's underlying me feeling blue lately.<br />Ass't Man was kinda my work husband, and even though it was a bad marriage, we shared a good love:<br />we both delighted in and were curious about thrift--and no one else does.<br />(Not entirely true-- Clothes Alice loves vintage clothes and textiles, and I appreciate that.)<br /><br />I'm still glad Ass't Man divorced himself from me and the store a couple months ago. <br />I wish it had been otherwise though. I wish that when I'd told him I was uncomfortable about what he did and said when drunk that he'd said, <i>"I need to do--am going to do--something about my drinking"</i>, instead of what he did say:<i> </i>"<b>You</b> are the problem."<i><br /></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But that's what he did say, and then he quit, and that's the way it went.<br />You presume good until the contrary is proven.<br />And when it's proven, it behooves you to believe it. But that doesn't mean you're not sad about it.<br />You can't take the train from </span><span style="font-size: large;">Mpls. to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, anymore either.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I feel better admitting to myself that I am sad about it.</span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-71762108333215736592023-12-04T10:38:00.011-06:002023-12-08T10:28:40.795-06:00 Xmas Camp, and Rearranging...<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">UPDATE: The opening of Christmas Camp under the Boston fern was deemed waaay more important than rearranging the apartment. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">Campers are starting to arrive!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;">They’re all going to need warmer clothes…</span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxNi34w2atrOFaEMrV-Ja153aakrEhYNlA_7HwUs9HDJwmXjYymoHXBxa1hyqjF4AWa7FC_lYFJYIR8usfjAlj9V4zE1c3FaoAIBXnu16S5ejmXl5fO6-dx_cFpnO-Gq6UOojMa16acpgBCO6XGGbBCk1YuFe9Hsu4qqaT9z2MVdNrcQuUMedHb4PRgJK/s1280/E0BB5428-61D2-410D-9A65-60719BC7FBD6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1032" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxNi34w2atrOFaEMrV-Ja153aakrEhYNlA_7HwUs9HDJwmXjYymoHXBxa1hyqjF4AWa7FC_lYFJYIR8usfjAlj9V4zE1c3FaoAIBXnu16S5ejmXl5fO6-dx_cFpnO-Gq6UOojMa16acpgBCO6XGGbBCk1YuFe9Hsu4qqaT9z2MVdNrcQuUMedHb4PRgJK/w516-h640/E0BB5428-61D2-410D-9A65-60719BC7FBD6.jpeg" width="516" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>_____</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Definitely I need & want to spend more of my energy on life OUTSIDE of work. Yesterday I tore apart half my apartment to move one of my bookshelves. And now I must put it all back together again.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Am I dawdling?<br />I am not.<br />(I am.)<br /><br />These pictures don't capture how messy it is!<br />But--happy </span><span style="font-size: large;">in its </span><span style="font-size: large;">new place, the massive Boston fern now has its own spot in the corner where the bookcase was. A Christmas tree skirt will go around its base, and the girlettes will set up Xmas Camp there!<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYVZ1gt1RU993c5ZM2TCtgM5f2G5UMBoYgwNHTPF95kPrGW-CBJ-cUgmUAN10q1SMDQN_uHSewGJypFaOu3re_91QRBhoSLL7YRHhpjiQfv2d7smLFQPpJneffUmX_fSmcrzN04NKBqqWoLnC9hSOpGnLi3_kd_A2C43ABnCDtbqNl7HDeYkar8fTvuNM/s640/IMG_0644.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaYVZ1gt1RU993c5ZM2TCtgM5f2G5UMBoYgwNHTPF95kPrGW-CBJ-cUgmUAN10q1SMDQN_uHSewGJypFaOu3re_91QRBhoSLL7YRHhpjiQfv2d7smLFQPpJneffUmX_fSmcrzN04NKBqqWoLnC9hSOpGnLi3_kd_A2C43ABnCDtbqNl7HDeYkar8fTvuNM/w640-h480/IMG_0644.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BELOW: I'm putting the bookshelf (plus bins of art & sewing supplies) along my bed-room wall. <br />It's the one wall shared--naked--with the neighboring apartment. (Kitchen and bathroom cupboards line the other shared walls.)<br /><br />My neighbor is very quiet, and so am I, but with my bed against the wall--the most logical space for it--I'd always felt aware that someone was sleeping on the other side of the wall,<br /> so I'm finally putting non-bed furniture against that wall, and moving my bed to the floor...<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFYCHogD9QzBYukyxjuXhx7D9EndHWngiyPIB30-M3J7EmPMFA21q9bWIlc6jUfW6nlWcDemvYHGbpvwOQc4ixUp4Mdc4O10hvli-VpazsDiBjQ9yxMpiPp4uG2mVvtAvSJylYIpDmJNEMnTwn3Rh2weiUZ0NEIdF_-5_JOapq5b0-TSwstVDqq3BhqcC/s640/IMG_0645.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFYCHogD9QzBYukyxjuXhx7D9EndHWngiyPIB30-M3J7EmPMFA21q9bWIlc6jUfW6nlWcDemvYHGbpvwOQc4ixUp4Mdc4O10hvli-VpazsDiBjQ9yxMpiPp4uG2mVvtAvSJylYIpDmJNEMnTwn3Rh2weiUZ0NEIdF_-5_JOapq5b0-TSwstVDqq3BhqcC/w480-h640/IMG_0645.jpeg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />When you tear your place up, it's not a matter of putting everything back the way it was, right? It's a chance, if you want, to look at every single thing and think, Do I want this? And, Where is the best place for this?<br />I am doing that.<br />No rush--as long as it's done in two weeks, before some old friends are coming over for holiday ginger cake (ginger cake!).<br /></span>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-46091465517646196342023-12-03T12:15:00.084-06:002023-12-03T14:03:25.512-06:00Adventure Aging: Open your own coconuts<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>First: the girlette calendars have arrived</b>, one week early. Yay! They look terrific--Mixbook.com did a great job. <br />(Not the cheapest, but they've printed four years of calendars for me. If you use them, search for coupons--they</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">often have some going, and always </span><span style="font-size: large;"> discounts </span><span style="font-size: large;">for orders of 10 or more.)<br /><br />If you haven't sent me your address, please do. (M, K, and LS, I have yours.) <br />If you said you want one, but now don't--no problem. I have no extras and would be happy to have some.<br /><b><br />Update:</b> bink was pretty low with Covid after Thanksgiving--fever, headache, cough. She is feeling a lot better now--up and dressed--but </span><span style="font-size: large;">she still tests positive, after nine days, and her senses of taste and smell are off. Not gone altogether, but food mostly tastes salty, sweet, or bitter.<br />Luckily no one else at Thanksgiving has become ill.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b> <br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I. Two Funnyish Reddits</b><br /><br />Searching for local dolls-&-bears field trips, I came across the reddit for my city. These two posts made me laugh:</span></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKu_uWJSwXnwfjLBnXaf4Em7W9enLPJD7VkxAIiQyQ0mEfhevZONU8BX4TqxF1wOxXyXOo-njTSgSR6rjVSaO4jzdtLV78tAmD8A8k-BBntQGYYOwqZbCfiNtLA-D-4CaBVIv7ivy0aA31NSIOHWcQU6MryaM8UJveoLQL6e2QjoYTO12lkT6C-kw1XRz/s1340/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.03.43%20AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="468" data-original-width="1340" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKu_uWJSwXnwfjLBnXaf4Em7W9enLPJD7VkxAIiQyQ0mEfhevZONU8BX4TqxF1wOxXyXOo-njTSgSR6rjVSaO4jzdtLV78tAmD8A8k-BBntQGYYOwqZbCfiNtLA-D-4CaBVIv7ivy0aA31NSIOHWcQU6MryaM8UJveoLQL6e2QjoYTO12lkT6C-kw1XRz/w826-h289/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.03.43%20AM.png" width="826" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">^ "[update] got some whole coconuts and learned how to open em!"<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">There ya go, that's the spirit.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />When I was a kid, we hit a coconut with a hammer until it cracked. <br />Seems "hitting it" is still the approved method. <br /><a href="https://www.artofmanliness.com/skills/outdoor-survival/how-to-open-a-coconut/" target="_blank">Here's how</a>, with and without tools, from the <i>Art of Manliness</i>:<br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJh8b7TC_sDhXdwEvM82clzJKAWelATyDe9XvQIalpPrynea4LbQ_iEIiUNPpGnKgHCULPOVDHUc-JnCXv5OBffKuJFKWvnD2QJbYjf3C6DjjVMfDQQipW0WVFPWbEix-Z3oR4XBHvhJZOIiOvGx6P75K6N2WTA9LXeTm9qaNEn7NAAC8orHp3dRbvL7H/s1542/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%2010.31.27%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="1542" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEJh8b7TC_sDhXdwEvM82clzJKAWelATyDe9XvQIalpPrynea4LbQ_iEIiUNPpGnKgHCULPOVDHUc-JnCXv5OBffKuJFKWvnD2QJbYjf3C6DjjVMfDQQipW0WVFPWbEix-Z3oR4XBHvhJZOIiOvGx6P75K6N2WTA9LXeTm9qaNEn7NAAC8orHp3dRbvL7H/w640-h366/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%2010.31.27%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Myself, I would hit the coconut with the rock, but perhaps this is the more manly-muscle way. :) <br />Also, doesn't that rock look like a cabbage? A cabbage will not do the trick.<br />___________________<br /><br />And, the second reddit:<br /></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hHO6wvDslk0qU7oQ7M3srj7tzIkPmpAlFZR8RLSDWwPJv996hi0CKbSZ04lPHt2WG-kToA_DrE4nUGo7tTO4LmmOxnR1bNFw8U8IfNkfsadvAoamW-WuLt8o4RFmW70sDr4Tc-nnJ-0LRBJmh_kpo7kYs5ywuyYBFkxsW5zQyiyiQuas7SNQRbrvg5Xz/s1398/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.03.08%20AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="1398" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hHO6wvDslk0qU7oQ7M3srj7tzIkPmpAlFZR8RLSDWwPJv996hi0CKbSZ04lPHt2WG-kToA_DrE4nUGo7tTO4LmmOxnR1bNFw8U8IfNkfsadvAoamW-WuLt8o4RFmW70sDr4Tc-nnJ-0LRBJmh_kpo7kYs5ywuyYBFkxsW5zQyiyiQuas7SNQRbrvg5Xz/w1194-h265/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.03.08%20AM.png" width="1194" /></a><span> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">^ "They don't mind walking but nothing too crazy as they are in their late 40s." Oh, those old people<i>...</i><br />Commenters replied with good but obvious suggestions (the art institute, the conservatory (for plants)). <br />But let's see... <br />What are some not "too crazy" local things to do </span><span style="font-size: large;"> indoors</span><span style="font-size: large;">? (The post makes it sound like age is the only impediment. ) <br />I came up with a couple fun ideas (that I didn't post because they don't quite fit though):<br /><br />Our women's <a href="https://northstarrollerderby.com" target="_blank">North Star Roller Derby</a> offers roller derby skating lessons for ALL SKILL LEVELS, with an emphasis on<b> Safety</b>. That could be good for someone who maybe doesn't heal as fast as a young person. <br />(But, whoops--but no classes until January.)<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnriiUjlZKNHoLRWHJXwxHiSYBXLRFLLkYWrTeSYl63mwThyYYm1CVQ7JLMBB6U39GbPuphTCF0q5St4OQ4TVsyqn1k9cxEtJ5DqPpJ5nbltvYK_tx61POFk6FAGvnkci7qNLpehayQz0Tsd7opayQUetQgp5NXIlBNL9z-IlqKg0XyWAnnInV2VfX5h6Q/s1620/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.16.10%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="1620" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnriiUjlZKNHoLRWHJXwxHiSYBXLRFLLkYWrTeSYl63mwThyYYm1CVQ7JLMBB6U39GbPuphTCF0q5St4OQ4TVsyqn1k9cxEtJ5DqPpJ5nbltvYK_tx61POFk6FAGvnkci7qNLpehayQz0Tsd7opayQUetQgp5NXIlBNL9z-IlqKg0XyWAnnInV2VfX5h6Q/w400-h190/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.16.10%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Vertical Endeavor "a cutting edge climbing facility<b> for people of all ages</b>" offers private lessons. <br />Facing a wall--maybe not the best sightseeing? Still, if the visitor learned how, they could return when it's warmer and climb outdoors.<br /><br />Here's an article on <a href="https://www.outdoorresearch.com/blogs/stories/what-its-like-to-start-climbing-in-your-60s" target="_blank">starting to climb in your sixties</a>, like Kitty below, who started at 67:<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="2078" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDlzmxxmMDwwm6GBjucXoCRueK5mxZLi254jR7Pyr6-flS5W88gf6dsSDHEsYj_1M6KFrjd-8mTDm0myCd5Ffl1mSM9cBrvgpmK-5b6oCyciCXmbg6xNNjDONWDlgyG-MTR0acKBV7saUHSuC1Bk2NnFUhCp1i8tYsWfpm_c9UbfL3RZjGyc3qvEHgpWGM/w400-h230/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%209.38.04%20AM.png" width="400" /></span></div><p> <span style="font-size: large;"><br />When I walked Camino at fifty years old, I met a woman in her sixties who worked with seniors. She told me that ADVENTURE is a key helper in aging. <br />And adventure is whatever is adventurous <i>for you</i>.<br /><br />What is Adventure for me?<br />I've never been much attracted to physical feats. (Camino was a social and spiritual undertaking that was physical.) But I do want to keep up the spirit of adventure. <br />That takes some conscious choice (for me, anyway).<br />_________________________________<br /><b><br />II. Adventures NOT at Work<br /></b><br />My job is adventurous, often taking me into the unexpected<i>. "I never thought I'd see THAT in a workplace." </i>Sometimes even in the fun way.<br /><i><br /></i>BELOW: <i>Santa Holding </i><i>Dino & Shark</i>, set up by coworker Grateful-J.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Kfu3MCb-I0UBD_XNfWqcxhhcEkhIMORk1H9hBZ2k6iQi9wxCM3pYL_1ZFEXwYA1AQ64IPiD90e-AWrAGCxrsXvt0hy7sfqyajEE82KGD-1yXADWOqrNJ-utby6VDxWMN3jOmzzXOPFPd1AWgz23HTRzGg-xHH7IPV9bsRX-HOUC6b6rFpV1iR_WhWCzL/s1846/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%2010.13.39%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1492" data-original-width="1846" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Kfu3MCb-I0UBD_XNfWqcxhhcEkhIMORk1H9hBZ2k6iQi9wxCM3pYL_1ZFEXwYA1AQ64IPiD90e-AWrAGCxrsXvt0hy7sfqyajEE82KGD-1yXADWOqrNJ-utby6VDxWMN3jOmzzXOPFPd1AWgz23HTRzGg-xHH7IPV9bsRX-HOUC6b6rFpV1iR_WhWCzL/w640-h518/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-03%20at%2010.13.39%20AM.png" width="640" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">But, I want to<b> invite some other adventures in</b>. <br /><br />And, I need to refocus at work. I was badly out of sorts earlier in the week, feeling really down--discouraged and disgusted.<br />A couple days off work helped, and when I went back yesterday, I was able to reset my mood by focusing only on MY areas (books & toys).<br /><br />I always, always get thrown when I step outside my areas or try to improve the store. There are ogres or something, I swear, that protect the store from improvements. <br />The ogres are in myself, perhaps...? They lumber out when I get frustrated with other people (but also with myself). I have a low threshold there, which is not helpful.<br /><br />I do not have a reformer's stick-to-itiveness. <br />I was reminded of that when I read Lytton Strachey's bio of Florence Nightingale. She reminded me of Abraham Lincoln--those people who wear themselves to a nub, working for change. They're constantly raging against the ineptitude and inertia of other people, but they don't give up. Of course, they also pay a high price.<br /><br />"Choose your battles," my father always said. <br />Yes.<br />I decided to give up one of mine: <br />I am going to stop trying to keep TOYS in good order. <br /><br />Every day parents leave their kids alone in Toys, as if it's an IKEA play area. The kids literally tear the area apart (ripping open bags and boxes), and I have to sort it out.<br /><br />Except... I <i>don't </i>have to.<br />Toys were never in order when I took them on. I can let them sink back into disorder. Since there is no management, no one will say anything, if they even notice.<br /><br />It's nice if Toys are in order, but honestly, I don't much care.<br />I care far, far more about the books, and they are not getting the attention I want to give them. Like, I still! haven't made new signs for the rearranged sections.<br />___________________<br /><br /><b>III. Adventures in NonFiction<br /></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Researching and going on Dolls & Bears Field Trips = a new adventure.<br />Also, I realized I've read--or don't want to read--most of the fiction on many "100 Best Novels" lists, but I have not read many of the books on the "100 Best <i>Non</i>fiction" lists.<br />Starting to read some, also = a new adventure.<br /><br /><b>* * * ANYONE have Non-Fic Recommendations?</b><br /><br /><i>Eminent Victorians</i> (1918) by Lytton Strachey is the first one I read from some list. <br />(There are many lists. Oh--it was<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jan/16/100-best-nonfiction-books-no-50-eminent-victorians-lytton-strachey-manning-nightingale-arnold-gordon" target="_blank"> the <i>Guardian</i>'s</a> < links to the article on EV--very fun! I'm going to read<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/series/100-best-nonfiction-books-of-all-time" target="_blank"> each article for the 100 books</a>, even if I don't read the books.)<br /><br />Strachey's book has been on the shelf at work for eons--I even marked it down to 49 cent, but it didn't sell.<br />I decided to try it because, as I've mentioned, I'd been reading Frances Partridge's diaries ––<br />(or despite that!--she's so boring--she says so, herself, complaining she had "one creative idea a month", I stopped reading her)––<br />and Frances's husband, Ralph P., had been one of Lytton Strachey's lovers and had also married LS's platonic love, Carrington. <br /><br />"A diagram of their [the Bloomsbury group's] love affairs would look like an underground system where every train
stopped at every station," writes Roger <a href="https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/carrington-1995" target="_blank">Ebert in his review</a> of the film <i>Carrington</i> (1995).<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Ralph is "Rex" in this preview of <i>Carrington</i> (1995), below.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="426" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/w60AMje46pA" width="513" youtube-src-id="w60AMje46pA"></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />I'd only known Strachey as a character and was surprised that he's such a good writer--and so funny in his wicked snarkiness.<br /><br />And look, he used the word "apotropaic"! I only learned that word practically the other day. He's talking about General Gordon, who I know from the movie <i>Khartoum</i> (and from writing a kid's book about Sudan--my <a href="https://gugeo.blogspot.com/2008/12/thrill-of-defeat.html" target="_blank">post about Gordon from 2008.</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>)<br /></span><span><blockquote>“Gordon’s fatalism … led him to dally with omens, to search for
prophetic texts, and to append, in brackets, the <b>apotropaic</b> initials DV [<i class="dcr-19m3vvb">Deo volente</i>
– God willing] after every statement in his letters implying futurity,
led him also to envisage his moods and his desires, his passing reckless
whims and his deep unconscious instincts, as the mysterious
manifestations of the indwelling God.”</blockquote></span><span> <i>Eminent Victorians</i> is Strachey's famous book that makes the lists--I wonder if his others are good too. I'll probably never know, as they're never donated to my workplace.<br /></span><span><span><br />My choices of nonfiction so far are guided by what we have at work.<br /></span></span><br /><span><span>Last night I started <i>The World Without Us</i> (Alan Weisman, 2007), </span></span><span><span> </span><span>from a 'Best Nonfiction of the 21st Century' list</span>, </span><span><span>which is often donated, being a relatively recent bestseller and adapted to TV. </span><span>I'm interested in the topic--what would Earth do if humans all of a sudden disappeared (say, from a human-only virus)?<br /><br />The science is fascinating.<br />But I don't know if I'll keep reading the book--I don't like how emotional AW's writing is, as if in the style of <i>War of the Worlds</i>. <br />Bridges are "under constant guerrilla attack from nature"; plants are "accosted" by "invasions" and "fight to reclaim their birthright" from "alien species".<br /><br />I felt manipulated into being frightened, which I don't enjoy. (I don't read or watch horror for its own sake.) It's as if the publisher said, "You must make this entertaining to the average reader of genre fiction".<br /> I just want to know</span><span> How Things Fall Down!<br />____________________</span><span><br /><br />BEST ADVENTURE: Write your own.<br />Open a coconut your own damn self.<br /></span></span></span><p></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-15631359492304896222023-12-02T10:03:00.004-06:002023-12-02T16:58:59.149-06:00Dolls & Bears Field Trips<p><span style="font-size: large;">Marz said, Why don't you write something like <i>Bench Press</i> about dolls and bears?<br />I'm starting to make a list of topics (skip down below).<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><i>Bench Press </i>(Sven Lindqvist, Granta, 2003) influenced how I write (when I pay attention to how I write). <br />Lindqvist writes brief--sometimes one paragraph--essays on weight lifting, starting with his personal experience--he was a journalist of the "90-lb weakling" type-- of becoming strong lifting weights.<br />The writing is compact and purpose-built, like a bar-bell weight. It could be called dry--the reader's muscles bring the heat. <br /><br />I finished Lytton Strachey's <i>Eminent Victorians</i> last night. His writing is full juicy, and very fun to read, I think--and so well constructed--all the pieces slot together.<br /><br />I put up a photo from <i>Eminent Victorians </i>yesterday because I was posting on my phone and didn't want to type it out.<br />But I love this sentence about life at Eton so much, I want to type it out here:<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">"Hundreds of boys, herded together in miscellaneous boarding-houses, or in that grim 'Long Chamber' at whose name in after years aged statesmen and warriors would turn pale, lived, badgered and over-awed by the furious incursions of an irascible little old man carrying a bundle of birch-twigs, a life in which licensed barbarism was mingled with the daily and hourly studies of niceties of Ovidian verse." <br /></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">Could be trimmed (but why?), to something like...</span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">Boys in boarding-houses endured licensed barbarism mingled with studies of Ovid, overseen by an irascible old man. Aged statesmen would later pale at the memory.</span></blockquote> <span style="font-size: large;">What fun would that be?<br /><br />---------------------<br /></span><p></p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>II Dolls and Bears FIELD TRIPS</b>!<br /><br />These are some field trips I want to take, to possibly write about what I see there.<br /><br />1. To see the library's <b>Japan-Minnesota Friendship Doll</b>, <span>Miss Miyazaki,</span> from Japan, given in 1927, shunted away somewhere, and re-found and restored in 2017.<br /><a href="https://www.twincities.com/2017/11/05/she-arrived-in-1927-and-then-disappeared-what-happened-to-minnesotas-friendship-doll/">www.twincities.com/2017/11/05/she-arrived-in-1927-and-then-disappeared-what-happened-to-minnesotas-friendship-doll<br /></a><br />2. To see the <b>bear and bunny statue</b> a few miles away at the Edina Library, dedicated in 2022.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7v0ESFF86GEr0cXnr5dp65Ilo1loju2a_3TA1rYSajMloAZMwB5uOMqwEbcCD2veZykyXMue6biRItoCPpD72Ak6LyLdvibxBs1XX0UEccCrDPnsA3niDkOQF7_43xIrbEOLC2ldtzMt3N24vXPXTQC39od4nxpD__cW0RCIfK11xOkxmTStM_VkYXZg/s660/d3b99e4e-f007-47f6-ad81-fdc027459fda-imagejpeg-0.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="660" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7v0ESFF86GEr0cXnr5dp65Ilo1loju2a_3TA1rYSajMloAZMwB5uOMqwEbcCD2veZykyXMue6biRItoCPpD72Ak6LyLdvibxBs1XX0UEccCrDPnsA3niDkOQF7_43xIrbEOLC2ldtzMt3N24vXPXTQC39od4nxpD__cW0RCIfK11xOkxmTStM_VkYXZg/w640-h480/d3b99e4e-f007-47f6-ad81-fdc027459fda-imagejpeg-0.webp" width="640" /></a><br />Wow--googling it, I see that sculptor Janey <a href="https://www.heraldtimesonline.com/story/news/2022/06/24/indiana-limestone-symposium-carving/7645254001/" target="_blank">Westin carved the sculpture at the Indiana Limestone Symposium</a>, near Bloomington-- that's the quarries we see in the movie <i>Breaking Away</i>! I loved that movie--haven't seen it in ages.<br /><br /><b>***BINK:</b> You should look into going this summer to the limsetone-sculpting workshops--from one day to 2 weeks!<br /><a href="https://limestonesymposium.org">https://limestonesymposium.org</a><br /><br />That's the sort of serendipity ^ you find via field trips.<br /><br />3. I'm really excited about this one, which requires taking the train to Chicago. The grown daughter of a friend from art-college library days has got a job at the <b>American Girl Doll</b> <b>Café </b>in Water Tower Place.<br /><br />We get American Girl dolls donated to the store--next time one comes in I will borrow it to be my guest--and she can take some of the girlettes as her guest! <br />Perhaps I need to rent a child. The photos on Trip Advisor show only CHILDREN (with parents) and their dolls... <br /><br />Hm. Penny Cooper is turning her nose up at it. "It is very pink."<br />But I know who'd love to go: <br />THE DUQUETTES! They are the wild children who want to do EVERYTHING. "We'll graffiti it!"<br />No spray paint will be taken.<br />(Also, secretly, maybe SweePo would like to go...)<br /><br /><b>4. Doll Repair</b> in town. <br /><br />Mrs B's Doll Repair is famous. <br />"Mr<i>s </i><span>B's Dolls along Highway 65 has thousands of dolls, some dating back more than 100 years. Marlys Burgess has owned the store for nearly 40 years.</span>"<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">It's in Blaine--not very close. But how attractive this ramshackle builing is... Photo<a href="https://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/mrs-bs-dolls-plus-minneapolis" target="_blank"> from Yelp</a>:</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kwBrh-NlIHRZiADdCS279eSfuME2ttaFLAE0KtDmO6ai7tAgM50QoxrMPjofLQgI4uDbAoliGciRVtm3QaCvrKxZhlIShkM4YiDv_QXp6Itcuf8OGfn2-fwyvMnRB-rbLXuDhxBfZxIpIVQSHKXn6s56RfgdMYt_Sx1WS1RIdbFv_TYUYdGgsJHqTcCX/s1056/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-02%20at%209.56.32%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="1056" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9kwBrh-NlIHRZiADdCS279eSfuME2ttaFLAE0KtDmO6ai7tAgM50QoxrMPjofLQgI4uDbAoliGciRVtm3QaCvrKxZhlIShkM4YiDv_QXp6Itcuf8OGfn2-fwyvMnRB-rbLXuDhxBfZxIpIVQSHKXn6s56RfgdMYt_Sx1WS1RIdbFv_TYUYdGgsJHqTcCX/w400-h356/Screen%20Shot%202023-12-02%20at%209.56.32%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-26718120084537712462023-12-01T14:51:00.008-06:002023-12-01T15:12:51.077-06:00Glum and Cranky<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">My mood plunged on Wednesday. I left work early, feeling put-upon and depleted. I’m not sure why, since work is almost always too much and not enough, but all of a sudden it felt insupportable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Maybe the darkness of the season tipped the balance.</span></div></span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I took the next day off, and then, still feeling low, today. I intend to go back tomorrow. Saturdays are more relaxed—hopefully my mood will reset.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, I’m cheered by Lytton Strachey poking sharp sticks into eminent Victorians<i>. </i>Here, on the “licensed barbarism” of Eton in the early 1800s:</span></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXF-BKbSR0HWl1UjgS_2xGDSYx5UyptFmeArjeJc7RaEml-1U8s5kEn39gyrbV8LApFs5ihcf_4TJf_fDxYtl0mZ5bdPFv7frukePdFg8eUURdVt54pr1PfwuFN_J_BfrnmNQudBFljwIs69Kgem6I9kb7_bRGy_HebVScZWYRvZ3P4tJLB9rrABGTEsY/s1280/B305AED7-40DE-412D-B1C9-712E3F11EBDD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1280" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtXF-BKbSR0HWl1UjgS_2xGDSYx5UyptFmeArjeJc7RaEml-1U8s5kEn39gyrbV8LApFs5ihcf_4TJf_fDxYtl0mZ5bdPFv7frukePdFg8eUURdVt54pr1PfwuFN_J_BfrnmNQudBFljwIs69Kgem6I9kb7_bRGy_HebVScZWYRvZ3P4tJLB9rrABGTEsY/w640-h450/B305AED7-40DE-412D-B1C9-712E3F11EBDD.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">“Dr. Arnold”, <i>Eminent Victorians, </i>by Lytton Strachey, 1918.</span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-91389183681214640212023-11-29T09:23:00.021-06:002023-11-29T10:03:18.189-06:00Dignified but not Defensive<p><span style="font-size: large;">The giant dumpster at work gets emptied at noon on Tuesdays. <br />By Monday night it's overflowing, and all our smaller rolling trash cans are lined up by the door, waiting for room.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BELOW: Emmler & graffiti on dumpster </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBHCale9RE7S9FYQbw5j-KcIjcnfp9zX-eACVoijOQA78_2bMqCf2avOI72twLozMqIxA4Vp-7AXjjnCUpMrI1OSJQmUJu9iqJxJ2iRGY-ioqUQROLLV3oZLrCJGHFvfKXj0ZsuRFOpN_DHa9UQ7K8C9bMZsOfmtHfM5UwBHv2K36ST_uEMfuGdt1Vh0Q/s1280/6A4B6640-0F19-4247-98FD-DDB42F340057.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="1280" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBHCale9RE7S9FYQbw5j-KcIjcnfp9zX-eACVoijOQA78_2bMqCf2avOI72twLozMqIxA4Vp-7AXjjnCUpMrI1OSJQmUJu9iqJxJ2iRGY-ioqUQROLLV3oZLrCJGHFvfKXj0ZsuRFOpN_DHa9UQ7K8C9bMZsOfmtHfM5UwBHv2K36ST_uEMfuGdt1Vh0Q/w640-h480/6A4B6640-0F19-4247-98FD-DDB42F340057.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, Tuesday, after the dumpster got dumped, I rolled the trash cans outside. I'd dumped one, when my coworker Jahar appeared. <br />He'd seen me taking the cans out and come to help me. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">"Some people lazy as hell," was all he said.<br /><br />It was extremely nice to have help--the thoughtful camaraderie really lifted my spirits. It's unusual in my workplace, especially coming like this––out of the blue, unasked for. As I've commented before, my coworkers tend to have an 'everyone for themselves' (save your strength) survival attitude.<br /><br />Jahar is an impressive guy, very dignified but not defensive, and a bit of a mystery to me. </span><span style="font-size: large;">He doesn't complain volubly, unlike most of us, though he will make small pointed comments, like the one above.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Within a couple weeks of his arrival, he had slid into running the neglected electronics donation area. Electronics is anything with a plug, from curling irons to chandeliers to snow blowers, and it's been a mess the entire time I've been at the store.<br />Now it's not.<br /> <br />Why is a good worker like Jahar in a dump like my workplace? <br />There are others. Grateful-J is one, but everyone knows why-- he frequently talks about his personal problems that led to him being here.<br />(And there's me. But would I still be there if it weren't for my love of BOOK's? Probably not?) <br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I've asked Jahar about himself, but he's not very forthcoming. <br />I wonder if his religion is a factor in his calm and together presentation.</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">He's an African-American Muslim––around my age––and he grew up in an African-American Muslim family. <br />All the other Muslims I've known </span><span style="font-size: large;">grew up in families who'd come from Muslim-majority countries (</span><span style="font-size: large;">like </span><span style="font-size: large;">Turkey, Indonesia, Somalia), or they converted as adults</span><span style="font-size: large;"> (not that I know him, but like my state's attorney general, Keith Ellison (the first Muslim to be elected to Congress). <br /><br />Jahar is dignified but not defensive, as I said---I was amazed that he answers when Mr Furniture calls him Idi Amin (though I gather he's let Mr. F that he doesn't agree with him, politically). He has a natural authority because he's not knocked off balance, and because he takes personal responsibility. And he doesn't ask for permission to do things that need doing.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Dignified but not defensive--that's it. </span><span style="font-size: large;">That's what impresses me most about Jahar. It's</span><span style="font-size: large;"> entire opposite of Ass't Man, who complained constantly; rarely acted on his own; told people what to do but exuded lack of authority. <br />And I tend to be touchy, easily offended by slights. I would like to stop that. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">It's more dignified not to fight for one's dignity, but simply to maintain it, calmly, whatever you're doing, including dumping the trash.<br /></span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-43943818967718639422023-11-27T12:56:00.037-06:002023-11-29T07:59:23.193-06:00Resilience Now<p><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="text-align: left;"><br />I.</b><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><b style="text-align: left;">"Whoa, take 'er easy there, PILGRIM".</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">BELOW: Yesterday I adapted this John Wayne image/quote from a stained old T-shirt I'd pulled out of textile-baling at work. <br />I sewed a magnolia blossom over the gun in JW's hand; cut the image off its original T-shirt; and sewed it onto this one. T-shirt material is treacherous--soft and shifty. I sewed by hand (I like that), and it took me all afternoon.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV6MNxv9eJuQvUmWJ2REvSuJSS63KkAdPIBa8uhuskslCOEAWiIIUWDONw-ywCi0LvMpUhLoBLlc8pv89gi1w4sY66fObgUXE4cVRxXhs8ew-B0KNXesfkNVnUAYt_bmsDFCcZoxx1AWvSGGaUsfXMDLXr16rvIJEUIvGF5xufEA6wIpbo8bUKWP5C84z/s2486/IMG-0598.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2486" data-original-width="2122" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDV6MNxv9eJuQvUmWJ2REvSuJSS63KkAdPIBa8uhuskslCOEAWiIIUWDONw-ywCi0LvMpUhLoBLlc8pv89gi1w4sY66fObgUXE4cVRxXhs8ew-B0KNXesfkNVnUAYt_bmsDFCcZoxx1AWvSGGaUsfXMDLXr16rvIJEUIvGF5xufEA6wIpbo8bUKWP5C84z/w546-h640/IMG-0598.jpg" width="546" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">I like it! I don't want to wear John Wayne's face though, even ironically. <br />Marz has a <i>Star Trek</i> t-shirt she says I could cut up for Capt Kirk's face--I'll do that swap today, I hope.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><b>UPDATE: </b>The Pilgrim T-shirt, now with Captain Kirk!</span>(Bonus—my giant Boston fern that will shelter the girlettes’ little Xmas tree under its plant stand.)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73l7g3fRpAmeE4JExwEctEG0FDx1pfkEkAaq8IguU31P2spWVlQQH8Lbu3xzt28iMad6SCjNycDUQqVXgnlVq-IHyZYsP0jlT9KOOt-PgUt9NuOPstL6ePI-Dck6afa0OWWcCEkVwMm-KtSn99R0eDRXWWWgLoU4wL8VU9x_4Z3uhPB4GU_iryDhpV7by/s1280/61B20E49-4D73-468F-B82F-86892CE32F6C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="996" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73l7g3fRpAmeE4JExwEctEG0FDx1pfkEkAaq8IguU31P2spWVlQQH8Lbu3xzt28iMad6SCjNycDUQqVXgnlVq-IHyZYsP0jlT9KOOt-PgUt9NuOPstL6ePI-Dck6afa0OWWcCEkVwMm-KtSn99R0eDRXWWWgLoU4wL8VU9x_4Z3uhPB4GU_iryDhpV7by/w498-h640/61B20E49-4D73-468F-B82F-86892CE32F6C.jpeg" width="498" /></a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">________<br /><br />This is my first free weekend </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">in weeks </span><span style="font-size: large;">(Sun-Mon off) </span><span style="font-size: large;">with nothing planned</span><span style="font-size: large;">, and that's really good for me, but it's for a sad reason: <br />bink got Covid for the first time on Friday.<br />She's not in danger, but she's pretty sick--headache, bad cough (cough cough cough), fever. <br />Clear lungs, though--whew.<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span>I'd spent Thanksgiving Thursday with bink and Maura, so I've been exposed, and I canceled a couple meet ups this weekend, just in case. <br />I've not become sick, nor has Maura, or Marz, who was also there.<br /> Fingers crossed.<br /><br /><b>II. "Hunt for the Good Stuff"<br /></b><br />While I sewed, I listened to an episode about grief on the podcast <i>Hidden Brain</i>--<a href="https://hiddenbrain.org/podcast/life-after-loss/" target="_blank">"Life After Loss"</a>, with Lucy Hone. She was a resilience researcher whose 12-y.o. daughter--and the daughter's friend & her mother--were killed by a car driver who ran a light.<br /></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-size: large;">"In the blink of an eye, [Hone said] I find myself flung to the other side of the equation.... Instead of being the resilience expert, suddenly, I'm the grieving mother... my world smashed to smithereens. <br />Suddenly, I'm the one on the end of all this expert advice. <br />And I can tell you, I didn't like what I heard one little bit."</span></blockquote><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span>--from Lucy Hone's TED Talk, <a href="TED Talk, "3 Secrets of Resilient People"." target="_blank">"3 Secrets of Resilient People"</a>.<br /><br />The three "secrets" are teachable, everyday skills, Hone says. "<span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">Resilience isn't some fixed trait.</span></span>" They are:<br /><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><div aria-label="So number one," class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><blockquote>1. "Resilient people get that shit happens.<br /><b>They know that suffering is part of life.</b> This doesn't mean
they actually welcome it in, they're not actually delusional." </blockquote></span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">This reminds me of Jimmy & Rosalynn Carter not replacing their old microwave that took 12-minutes to pop popcorn: <br />"Nothing is easy, and why would it be?"<br />In a funny way, this translates to "take 'er easy, pilgrim"--the idea being,</span></span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"> it's not going to be easy (for anyone) to</span></span></span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"> walk through this world, so don't be surprised, and don't make it harder on yourself.</span></span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><br /></span><blockquote><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">2. </span>"Resilient people are really good at choosing carefully where they select their attention. They have a habit of realistically appraising situations, and typically, managing to <b>focus on the things that they can change, and somehow accept the things that they can't.</b> <br /><i>This is a vital, learnable skill for resilience. </i><br /></blockquote></div></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr" style="font-size: large;"><div aria-label="So number one," class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">And, 3. </span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><blockquote><div aria-label="Number three," class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><b><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">"Resilient people ask themselves, </span></b></div><div aria-label=""Is what I'm doing helping or harming me?"" class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><b><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr"><i>Is what I'm doing helping or harming me? </i></span></b></div><div aria-label="This is a question that's used
a lot in good therapy." class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">This is a question that's used
a lot in good therapy. And boy, is it powerful. This was my go-to question in the days after the girls died. I would ask it again and again. </span></div><div aria-label=""Should I go to the trial
and see the driver?" class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">'Should I go to the trial
and see the driver? Would that help me or would it harm me?' </span></div><div aria-label="Well, that was a no-brainer for me," class="inline cursor-pointer hover:bg-red-300" role="button" tabindex="0"><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">Well, that was a no-brainer for me, I chose to stay away." </span></div></blockquote></span></div></span><span style="font-size: large;">An alternate way of putting this that I like, from the Ignatian practice of discernment<i>: Is this consolation or desolation?</i> <br /><br />What jumped out at me from the <i>Hidden Brain</i> episode was an addition to Hone's point no. 2--(pay attention to where you put your attention): <br /><b>HUNT THE GOOD STUFF.</b><br /><br /><span>"<i>Hunting the Good Stuff</i> counteracts the negativity bias to create positive emotion, and to notice and analyze what is good."<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span><span><span><span><span class="text-textPrimary-onLight font-normal text-tui-base leading-tui-lg tracking-tui-tight" dir="ltr">"As
humans, we are really good at noticing threats and weaknesses. We are
hardwired for that negative. Negative emotions stick to us like Velcro,
whereas positive emotions and experiences seems to bounce off like
Teflon." </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />I was thinking of changing "hunt" to "search" or something friendlier like that, but "hunt" is best:<br /> while hunting has been a normal survival skill in the history of humanity, it can be quite difficult. <br />(What do I know, I've never hunted. But you know.)<br /><br />Anyway--"good stuff" sounds chipper, but it is hard.</span><div><span style="font-size: large;">And we all have some hard stuff to do.<br /></span><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>III. To Hunt, or not to Hunt</b><b><br /><br /></b>BELOW:<b> </b><span>My </span><span>49-year-old </span><span>mother, Lytton Davis, <i>left,</i> seeing 23-year-old me off on my ten-day bike trip to Duluth and
along Lake Superior.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8hVgdCBJFby3UWuFCWOWAbcu3vF5GNHQAhW9eMNG7tcyVUHQYPYOLTG5wthlMbuczXiQhNWe_t82N-lxWOOpO5ovNAVm3bIylXM6GTBW2ObEbNCmCge7en2lKvLomRZhCl6xSa-g9ghM3DPY48LnrHLUmhU1iJX8sCy6sto247S3rx7eOYarYXOOoDCf/s640/IMG_6027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8hVgdCBJFby3UWuFCWOWAbcu3vF5GNHQAhW9eMNG7tcyVUHQYPYOLTG5wthlMbuczXiQhNWe_t82N-lxWOOpO5ovNAVm3bIylXM6GTBW2ObEbNCmCge7en2lKvLomRZhCl6xSa-g9ghM3DPY48LnrHLUmhU1iJX8sCy6sto247S3rx7eOYarYXOOoDCf/w480-h640/IMG_6027.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Hunting, about which I know almost nothing, reminds me of <i>The Deer Hunter</i> (1978, USA). <br />I'd first seen the movie on a bike trip I took when I was twenty-three (photo above). I'd stopped on a rainy day at a crummy motel outside Duluth, where I watched the movie on TV.<br /><br />Have you seen it? It's a strong movie about a group of friends-- steelworkers in Pennsylvania--going to fight in Vietnam, and the disturbing aftermath.<br /><br /> It stunned me, and--weirdly--it encouraged me.<br />Gave me strength. <br />(I'm reminded that the etymology of "comfort" is <i>with</i> {co–} + <i>strength</i> [fort, like fortitude].)<br /><br />Retrospectively, I see that it spoke to me about surviving horror––with and without resilience (mostly a matter of luck)––<br />including the horror of being unable to save someone you love (the famous Russian roulette scene with Robert DeNiro and Christopher Walken).</span><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kyKhwi0g9F7QyhkaYtAQVMtUDizqwGucqY38hM5Gd9wRXWb2dnHJRBtT_8l_PCg3PVsxrcoEdFNPZ07xi0Jn435qlTPBCRAVbkQqrrBPEHmEK6DS7INJafGlzTSv_LXJhwt9LIqXksHhj0IZNmCm9iOVvDyIJFGFndlZMW1vl-RXBUC9V8K175bm0VSA/s1170/the-deer-hunter-md-web.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="956" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kyKhwi0g9F7QyhkaYtAQVMtUDizqwGucqY38hM5Gd9wRXWb2dnHJRBtT_8l_PCg3PVsxrcoEdFNPZ07xi0Jn435qlTPBCRAVbkQqrrBPEHmEK6DS7INJafGlzTSv_LXJhwt9LIqXksHhj0IZNmCm9iOVvDyIJFGFndlZMW1vl-RXBUC9V8K175bm0VSA/w522-h640/the-deer-hunter-md-web.jpg" width="522" /></a></b><br /><br /><br /><b>CONTENT NOTE: Suicide<br /></b><br />We all have something. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span>In my case, the person I couldn't save was my mother, from her own despair, which I was still trying to do at that time... <br />Did I sense that that wasn't in my control, my power? <br />Maybe? <br />Anyway, though it would be seventeen years from the time I saw <i>The Deer Hunter</i> until my mother shot herself, that ending for her was always a possibility, and no one was surprised when it came.<br /><br />I recently read a book of Anne Sexton's letters, edited by her daughter Linda. I'd never cared for Sexton's poetry, but wow, did the voice in the letters remind me of my mother's. Expressive! Smart & funny!<br />Manipulative. <br /><br />Linda writes at the end of the book, <br />"Anne's death was not unexpected. All those close to her had known that one day she would choose to commit suicide."<br /></span> <span><br />I wouldn't say my mother's death by her own hand was inevitable. <br />It wasn't. Time and chance play a hand in all things.<br />But yeah, no one was surprised.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Uh, anyway, I guess that makes me the Robert DeNiro character, who survives, and is left wiser, more compassionate, and more resourceful, at great cost.<br /><br />Am I?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Are you?</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I guess I am... and I guess I call on that in my work and life, in crafting the Philosophy and Theology of Slob Knob Alley.<br />But I think I'm also … worse than I might have been/—shut down, in some ways I wouldn't have been if my mother had been . . . luckier.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">But as I keep saying, we all have something. <br /><br />We get to keep using whatever resilience we gain, because life isn't hard just one time, right? <br />When Lucy Hone's daughter died, Lucy and her family had already survived a massive, destructive earthquake in Christchurch, NZ, a few years earlier. <br /><br /><i>Why bother </i>hunting the good stuff, though, when bad stuff just keeps happening?<br /><br />Besides having a naturally upbeat personality before her daughter's death, Lucy had teen sons and a husband she loves. <br />So there's that, which not everyone has. <br /><br />She also wanted to help other people, and that's something too.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> She went on to write from her own experience <i>Resilient Grieving: How to Find Your Way Through Devastating Loss</i> (2017). <br /><br />The possibility that you might help other people--that <b>we need you</b>--the unexpected stranger, even--is a life force. It might/could seem sort of cruel to ask someone who's suffering to hang on for other people, but there's that. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The life story itself is a life force--curiosity--wondering, what happens next?<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The other day a customer told me that her sister, who has advanced Parkinson's, said that one thing that makes her sad about dying is not being able to read anymore.<br />You can't turn the page if you're dead.<br /><br />My mother ran out of all those reasons, and that's something that can happen. I wish it didn't, but that was never in my power.<br /><br />I do seek out tips about resilience, and I do appreciate help such as the reminder to hunt the good stuff, and I am very curious about where this is all heading, <br />but I<i> hate </i>when people imply that other people can Just Do It. Just choose the good.<br />You can choose, but you have to be able to want to choose. <br />(You can have what you want, but you have to want it.)<br />If we are able to choose to hunt––and if we can choose to pull the trigger, or not, like the DeNiro character––we're <i>lucky</i>.<br /><br />And now I'm going to go find Capt Kirk's face to cover John Wayne's because I want to tell a different story, and in this case, I can.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">_______________</span></p><h1><span style="font-size: large;">988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline</span></h1>
<div class="well"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>If you need suicide or mental-health crisis
support, or are worried about someone else, please call or text 988 <br />or
visit the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline chat </b><b>to connect with a trained crisis specialist.</b></span></div><p><span style="font-size: large;">Calls, texts, and online
chats to 988 will reach a trained Crisis Specialist. <br /></span></p></div>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-45295468211806547612023-11-25T07:20:00.014-06:002023-11-25T08:27:21.714-06:00Final 2024 Girlette Calender: "Unruly Yet Elegant"<p><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the final layout for the Girlettes' 2024 calendar I'll be ordering from Mixbook. It's slightly different than what I posted a coupla weeks ago. If anyone wants to change their mind and not order one (or, place an order), let me know in comments or email me. (I won't mind, either way.) <br /><br />Different than the last three years, these are not 12" x 12" square, <br />they are the horizontal landscape, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>8.5" x 11" size </span><span> (prices went up, and these a little cheaper--as usual, they discount bulk orders too). <br />And I put very few little photos in the date boxes--feedback was, those made the calendar less useful because you can't write on those dates.<br /><br />Calendars are $18 each </span><span>+ $5 <i>shipping</i> (media mail) in the US <br />= $23 per calendar</span><span>. <br />Pay</span><span> via </span><span> check in the mail or </span><span>paypal to my email address--also questions, <b>addresses</b>:<br />frescadp@gmail.com <br />They'll get to me around December 9, and I'll mail them right out so they'll get to you before winter solstice.<br /><br />I did use the bizarre yet wonderful AI-generated captions for the front and back of the calendar--the flavor of the year:<br /> "unruly yet elegant additions to any home", and "embracing companions in unfamiliar spaces".<br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Gi6zkSR6QaTolAZKEyxpJ4GaPU-886TnEFFQbnjN8O91vR9vmbnvYSAk4clcJHXeDxmpsLzbvPO14GS20e633L0MuwRpnfP9LKEcwwZKNwSYtIkbEMFHlVx-QLwPNcbdf-2I3e9GC1qqFnvPg6iCQdka-1ObAsknu1PQQvWmxrBoDjfDQ_GYaYNvgYmX/s1090/12.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1090" data-original-width="912" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Gi6zkSR6QaTolAZKEyxpJ4GaPU-886TnEFFQbnjN8O91vR9vmbnvYSAk4clcJHXeDxmpsLzbvPO14GS20e633L0MuwRpnfP9LKEcwwZKNwSYtIkbEMFHlVx-QLwPNcbdf-2I3e9GC1qqFnvPg6iCQdka-1ObAsknu1PQQvWmxrBoDjfDQ_GYaYNvgYmX/w335-h400/12.png" width="335" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw49nLm57Bfkg-aKxXceB9hPFi-r3SeUlveFZsZ1XsiyIOAtHC_5yT8Zr3K6w14dMsswsWLXk3E3wA5j0Euk6W0lwezLPb65v4121JG94TM1lyZmIbI6nStioBmNPMGynXT0irOY2YcX3pSwwbsdf-aWXNMDF-uP7ummBuQuiaVyNJApiXcUcJHdDXQD9E/s1424/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-25%20at%207.13.19%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1424" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw49nLm57Bfkg-aKxXceB9hPFi-r3SeUlveFZsZ1XsiyIOAtHC_5yT8Zr3K6w14dMsswsWLXk3E3wA5j0Euk6W0lwezLPb65v4121JG94TM1lyZmIbI6nStioBmNPMGynXT0irOY2YcX3pSwwbsdf-aWXNMDF-uP7ummBuQuiaVyNJApiXcUcJHdDXQD9E/w400-h314/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-25%20at%207.13.19%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-4850662955945777872023-11-24T09:26:00.032-06:002023-11-29T08:01:47.734-06:0015ºF = –9ºC; Thrift the World Up<p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhtRdPYJZMrb5bPiuOn5l4ZfzpFWybbczhdd5EY9-PcJ0qyahkOGvvIggZ9OOyWLX01EL2iQuuzSh7an14jEXIpW3eGrCjPj10D8cI7f8Chrb70Bz95xDT5e6PAXHG_IwxcnOx3Ziw-XQsetUUAxEFNdrPOlDxx5qVoe1ywNOgoS6AbUISo6o5RRiRmft4" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="305" data-original-width="640" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhtRdPYJZMrb5bPiuOn5l4ZfzpFWybbczhdd5EY9-PcJ0qyahkOGvvIggZ9OOyWLX01EL2iQuuzSh7an14jEXIpW3eGrCjPj10D8cI7f8Chrb70Bz95xDT5e6PAXHG_IwxcnOx3Ziw-XQsetUUAxEFNdrPOlDxx5qVoe1ywNOgoS6AbUISo6o5RRiRmft4=w400-h191" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Well, darn it. This is the coldest morning we've have so far. <br />I was going to chicken out and take the express bus to the U. It stops kitty-korner from my apartment, and then I transfer to the Lake St bus... <br />But then I remembered the U is on Thanksgiving break and the bus won't be running... <br />I could walk a few blocks to the city bus, but I still have to transfer, and if I'm going to do that, I may as well <i>brave myself and bike</i>!<br /><br />I WANT to bike as long as I can into winter--it's the ice that's the problem more than the cold--but I balk at the first cold days... <br />I want to bike because . . . <br />it helps with stress reduction, to and fro work; it helps with exercise; it helps me stretch out my calves which get tight from standing all day; <br />AND< I want to avoid the distressing daily scenes of tragedy on the bus: riders on drugs almost tipping out of their seats; moms alone juggling groceries & a double stroller, vying for space with people in electric wheelchairs; teenagers smoking in the back...<br /><br />Of course there's comedy too--people being friendly and funny, but you just never know.<br /><br />Also, viruses.<br /><br />I appreciated Linda Sue's comment yesterday, on my post about a customer who lived in a house for DIY punk/queer community [<a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/minneapolis-nudieland-shooting-august-golden-1234807228/" target="_blank">article in <i>Rolling Stone</i></a>*] that was the scene of a mass shooting this summer:<br /><blockquote>"Your world seems extreme, but I think the dysfunction and despair is woven into USA fabric , a tight weave."</blockquote></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Yes. Thank you, LS, for seeing and saying that--it's like the scene in <i>Star Trek: Picard</i> in LA encampments-- reflecting for me that THIS IS HAPPENING, and not just locally here, in the blighted area where I work.<br /><br />It seems extreme to me too.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> Because it is extreme! (I'm like, WHAT?) <br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> It IS extreme,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> and yet, it's also kinda the new normal. For a segment of America, it was always bad there, and now there's fentanyl, and more guns than ever, and a national political scene that gives the thumbs up to tribalism.<br />And not just nationally, either--there's Argentina tipped now... and many more places.<br /><br />What on Earth will happen, I wonder? Really, on Earth. <br />Will we get worse before we get better--much, <i>much</i> better? (That's the <i>Star Trek</i> scenario.) <br />Or, will we slam on the brakes, reverse, and choose to improve? (I vote for that!)<br />Or get worse, and never get better?<br />Who knows?<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm going to live as if we just might </span><span style="font-size: large;">choose to improve. Maybe we won't, but we could!<br /><br />I don't know any individual of any stripe who thinks the situation is good. As BJ said, "those people on the street hate being there as much as you do." They're trapped in the hell of addiction, a lot of them.<br /> <br />As individuals, </span><span style="font-size: large;">except the few who <i>want </i>to watch the world burn, </span><span style="font-size: large;">we're almost all wanting freedom from dental pain (!), cheesecake and football, good tv/sex, a safe place to send the kids to get them out of our hair for an afternoon; and that old-fashioned sounding peace, love, and understanding. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />But somehow as a group, we create the opposite. <br />Our lizard brains say, Your sexuality & cheesecake are the WRONG FLAVOR. My group's football is worth dying for. Dentistry for me, but there's not enough not for you. <br />Etc.<br /><br />We are ridiculous. I am very fond of us. I wish we would get it together.<br />Good example of a good try:<br />The city put in a new, two-way bike path along the street where bink & Maura live. IT'S GREAT!!! The street is safer for everyone, not just bicyclists, and quieter and greener. And of course people complain, people who say it inconveniences THEIR car drive home (oh, the sacred right of car drivers!); <br />but it's a done deal. <br />And it's a big, good step for public health, community, everything.<br /><br />We can do that.<br />_____________<br /><br />*The <i>Rolling Stone</i> article is a tribute to August Golden, the musician killed in the shooting. It's a good, loving description of what I call Thrift Life:</span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">'His bandmates spoke to <i>Rolling Stone</i>
from his room. <br />“He had really beautiful stuff,” Brown says. <br />“He took
care to repair old things. He saw the value in stuff. He never threw
things away. He would always fix it. And he fixed things for all of us
as well: tape players, record players, guitars, cars, and trucks.
</span></p><p class="paragraph larva // lrv-u-line-height-copy lrv-a-font-body-l"><span style="font-size: large;">
“It was a choice, since he enjoyed doing it, but it was also an ethos,”
they continue. <br />“It was about taking care of each other and taking care
of things. He wasn’t just helpful to be helpful; he really believed in
mutual aid and community and taking care of each other.<br /> <br />He was inspired
by that, and we were inspired by him doing that.”'<br /></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-size: large;">Photo, <i>below</i>, of August Golden from <i>Rolling Stone,</i> August 16, 2023<i>,"</i>Friends Remember ‘Punk as F-ck’ Musician Killed in Minneapolis Shooting". <br />"A
gunman killed 35-year-old August Golden in an unprovoked shooting
during a show last Friday. Friends say he 'embodied the values that our
world of DIY punk rock hopes to embody and hold'."</span> <br /></p>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhAn0TXcbo7t7s_S6UBcPSWp3rOtt9l0JMGy28Y8K-hjaTUhEh0J8zuD-Hu4UHyMOLcZuGjz0WM3chx9PXVciRL4_Ej29hqXZ20PChW2JEvUPyy-fYyqqfDI-NXjTbG6BzxXYrJE9Z-_TdxGwaVlErvNJ856G1eEaB2h3s_xjKrDDKKxXJPfdiZX95I9f/s1581/August-Golden-Nudieland-Victim.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="1581" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdhAn0TXcbo7t7s_S6UBcPSWp3rOtt9l0JMGy28Y8K-hjaTUhEh0J8zuD-Hu4UHyMOLcZuGjz0WM3chx9PXVciRL4_Ej29hqXZ20PChW2JEvUPyy-fYyqqfDI-NXjTbG6BzxXYrJE9Z-_TdxGwaVlErvNJ856G1eEaB2h3s_xjKrDDKKxXJPfdiZX95I9f/w400-h266/August-Golden-Nudieland-Victim.webp" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/minneapolis-nudieland-shooting-august-golden-1234807228/">rollingstone.com/music/music-features/minneapolis-nudieland-shooting-august-golden-1234807228</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="paragraph larva // lrv-u-line-height-copy lrv-a-font-body-l"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-88685863354045869472023-11-23T08:21:00.018-06:002023-11-23T08:35:02.865-06:00Grateful for Creative Shields<p><span style="font-size: large;">I'm grateful, this Thanksgiving, for an encounter yesterday that showed me that I AM getting better at walking in the world with suffering and pain--open to it, but protected--<br />and specifically that the girlettes really do serve as <i>shields</i>, <b>and</b> they can also be bridges between me and other people...<br /><br />I can't remember if I've mentioned here that a regular customer in BOOK's, a transman I'll call bobby, lived in a collective punk-house where there was a mass shooting this summer--about a mile from the thrift store?<br /><br />I didn't know this right away.<br />We'd exchanged phone numbers re a certain book, and I'd texted him that that the book had been donated.<br />He texted back that there had been "some deaths in my community", and he would not be in for a while. <br /><br />I put two and two together, googled, and discovered that, yes, bobby's community was the punk house, which was queer/trans community too. (Big overlap there.)<br /><br />Oh, I think I did blog about this--about the bizarro question that arose for me, <i>What's the etiquette around mass shootings</i>?<br />What do you say? <br />I actually googled that and the answers I found were uninspired.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I turned to the girlettes.<br />I knew bobby had written his masters thesis on Jean Genet. I texted back that I was sorry about the deaths and while I wasn't sure what to say, I wanted to show my sympathy by sending this photo of one of my dolls (SweePo) dressed like Genet (from five years ago, with--how weirdly apt--Genet's novel <i>Funeral Rites</i>):<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj466N_kkEs-4lDGy7V-YlOK0uatKY7pqR6rs8vYkV89riMvbVIsq4Wlk_3mxFBgzeGt__es-qZIGtV5zqVgQSUhs8a0-oCeYY65sgBrqSjQLLcJhJs9c-uiGzuH5hdcqlrLjt7zFQCJZprRGtPdAM5CFOqpLX_4xh8rKxqnoCqjCUAP4QPo8yr1Fslp-Oi/s590/IMG_3078.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="590" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj466N_kkEs-4lDGy7V-YlOK0uatKY7pqR6rs8vYkV89riMvbVIsq4Wlk_3mxFBgzeGt__es-qZIGtV5zqVgQSUhs8a0-oCeYY65sgBrqSjQLLcJhJs9c-uiGzuH5hdcqlrLjt7zFQCJZprRGtPdAM5CFOqpLX_4xh8rKxqnoCqjCUAP4QPo8yr1Fslp-Oi/w520-h640/IMG_3078.jpg" width="520" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">bobby didn't reply, but I didn't take that as a bad sign, necessarily, but I did hope sending a DOLL didn't come across as too slight...<br /><br />But no. Yesterday I finally saw him at the store, looking at books. The first thing he said was, "thanks for that message", and we got talking about Genet. <br />I said I'd been surprised at Genet's </span><span style="font-size: large;">tenderness in <i>Funeral Rites</i></span><span style="font-size: large;">, which I loved, while much of his stuff is disturbing to me. <br /><br />bobby agreed. "Genet is drawing on his own grief in that book..."<br /><br />Then I said, "I don't know you well, but I want to ask if there's anything you need that I could do for you."<br /><br />"No," he said, "but just that you asked..." <br />And, </span><span style="font-size: large;">I was so surprised--his eyes got teary. <br /><br />He went on to tell me the police have done nothing to catch the shooters, had clearly signaled that they didn't care about the community. <br />(I've seen enough of our neighborhood cops to know this is not paranoia speaking.) But also that justice wasn't justice, and he wasn't sure he even wanted the killers to be subjected to it!<br /><br />(I've heard people on the street say this too--that even if they were beat to a pulp, they didn't want to call the cops on their attacker, because they wouldn't wish that on them.<br />That's some effed up justice system we have.)<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />And then bobby and I talked more about </span><span style="font-size: large;">creative distancing--my </span><span style="font-size: large;">dolls and his performance art--and overall, ways to be in the world and to stay both open and protected... <br />Tender in grief, and brave in art.<br /><br />Whatever it takes to protect ourselves so we can be Intrepid Galactic Explorers, I am grateful for that.<br /><br />Thanks to all you, out there!<br /><br /></span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7229875339727095184.post-52432650496397025612023-11-22T09:39:00.050-06:002023-11-22T10:17:57.319-06:00Play to Your Strengths (There's Nothing Wrong with You)<p><span style="font-size: large;">There's time before work for an Auntie-Vi style chit-chat this morning... We always talked about the weather.<br />Auntie Vi, I miss you! <br />How's the weather in heaven?<br />I picture it as a perfect Green Bay Packers football game day.<br />It's so weird here, </span><span style="font-size: large;">the day before Thanksgiving</span><span style="font-size: large;">--it's 28ºF this morning, due to warm up 21 degrees to 49º.<br />Then back into the 30s for the next ten days.<br /><br />I heard from my cousin Donna again recently--a card in the mail. <br />She's the only one from that family to stay in touch with me, and I'm the only one she's in touch with too. Family connections were often riven with discord, so no surprise, but I am a little sad about it. But only sad IN THEORY--the idea of seeing my actual cousins doesn't appeal. They're almost entirely 'Trump in Jesusland' people.<br />Funny because our grandparents were immigrants, but I get it:<br /><i>We got ours, now we're not sharing</i>.<br /><br />Auntie Vi would want to hear about yesterday's work lunch, too.<br />It all came together perfectly, and everyone seemed to like making their own sandwiches.<br />Funny little detail--I'd hesitated but decided to buy a jar of sliced dill pickles for sandwiches. I don't put them on my sandwiches--I prefer banana peppers––but I thought of all the offerings in the Subway cold tray, and pickles are one. Sure enough, half the jar got eaten.<br />Gotta cater to all tastes, not just mine.<br /><br />I'm pleased, too, that I thought to put the ham on a separate tray from the sliced turkey and cheese. J. is Muslim and won't touch pork. Funny, because I know he'll drink a beer, but whatever. I don't care--it's an easy fix--I just had to THINK of it.<br /> I told him, "This ham and this turkey have never met--they don't even know each other's name!"<br />And he laughed.<br /><br /><b>Play to Your Strengths<br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I guess that's a strength of mine--to see what people like, even if it's not important to me, and to (try to) engineer for that.<br /><br />Vi would love that I've started to read <i>Help! I Work with People: Getting Good at Influence, Leadership, and People Skills</i> (Chad Veach, Bethany House, 2020). She liked upbeat stuff, and this is that.<br /> Veach's premise is that in life, you'll likely find yourself in some sort of leadership position eventually, even if without a formal designation. And you might not be great at it, but you can LEARN to do it better by harnessing and supporting your strengths.<br /> I'm sometimes finding myself in that position, Leader by Default, simply by being older in age, and also being one of the longest lasting crew at work.<br /><br />BUT, I'm not comfortable with leadership, have always avoided stepping up to it--especially avoiding <i>coordinating </i>other people or asking for help. I try to do whatever by myself.<br /><br />This lunch was a wee, tiny bit different for me:<br />Big Boss & Manageress had offered help, and I told them what was needed. Then, Manageress was sick, so I recruited someone else for her task--to decorate the break room. Her replacement wasn't stellar at that, but it was better than nothing, <br />and the <i>feeling</i> of <b>willing cooperation</b> was nice.<br />I thought, I COULD GET BETTER AT THIS.<br /><br />I'm not very far in the book, but the first section is about getting to know yourself, as a leader--and his main advice is to strengthen your strengths, and to work around/farm out your weaknesses. <br />For instance, discover the kind of communication you're best at, and engineer that. If you hate answering the phone, you could spend energy getting better at it, and that might be good;<br />but it might be easier to ask someone else to do it, or to request instead that people text or email you.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I've found this to be true--starting with the key: <br /><b>Be honest</b> <i>with yourself. </i>Kinda gotta get outside yourself a bit to do that--lots of paths to that: I've found that learning to recognize <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_cognitive_biases" target="_blank">cognitive biases (list here</a>)--our brains' 'blind spots'--was super, super helpful.<br /><br />I'm always using Ass't Man as a counter example, but he's such a good one--he always blamed other people instead of being honest about himself and saying "I'm afraid of this"; "I'm inexperienced"; or, simply, "I don't like this part."<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Know your whole self; support your strengths; don't get caught endlessly analyzing "what's wrong with me?".</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><b>Nothing's wrong with you!<br /></b></span><span style="font-size: large;">Limitations aren't "wrong"</span><span style="font-size: large;">--there's stuff you aren't designed for, and will never be good at or enjoy (but might have to do anyway--there's a skill to that too); <br />and there's a whole lot of skills that you simply haven't learned or practiced (enough) yet, but will get better at, if you want to try</span><span style="font-size: large;">.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;">(Of course, there may be so much 'never-learned' stuff, you are buried in it--like Willy who was drowning in alcohol. But I bet he wasn't born like that... <br />After he was fired for sexual harassment, I learned he was a Vietnam vet, on top of everything else. That sadly wouldn't have changed how I viewed him, because he'd become a hazard to others, but it did make me see again (again) that factors outside our control can really get on top of you.)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">This is pretty one-oh-one stuff, I guess, but I'm finding it a helpful boost--and it's good to circle back and review because it takes a long time to DO it well. <br /><br />At work, the thing is, often there is no one else to step up, so if I don't do something, it doesn't get done.<br />Frustrations aside, I'm mostly okay with that situation because, due to the lack of management, I get to choose what I step up to.<br />I would love GOOD management, would I ever! But since most management I've ever experienced hasn't been good, I kinda prefer this non-management. <br />Our Non-Management is sometimes so very NOT good, it tips into Bad; but mostly in this workplace it simply doesn't stand in my way. I have room to experiment and learn.<br />And doing that is up to me--and while I'd love some support, I like the freedom.<br /><br />Okay--off to work! Have a good day!<br /></span></p>Frescahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15323129046492056942noreply@blogger.com5