Joy
this little guy was a real maverick.
Trey's jack-o-lantern
So there we were last night, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, waiting for our wonderful dinner, listening to scary music, talking with a friend who came over to spend the evening with us. We munched on Katie’s roasted pumpkin seeds, Trey tended to the smoking pork, it was lovely.
The doorbell rang so Katie picked up her basket of candy and opened the door, and before she knew it a little boy walked through the door, into the living room, sat down on her couch, and started exploring his candy as if he were at home. His dad seemed kind of embarrassed and came in to retrieve his son, who didn’t really want to leave. He finally got the boy out of the house and down the sidewalk, but the boy broke free and was headed for the door again.
It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. We laughed and laughed, and wondered what was up with that kid.
pork butt pork butt pork butt pork butt. pork butt.
Katie is baking pumpkin cookies and roasting pumpkin seeds, and Trey has spent this entire day slow-smoking a couple huge pork butts. See?
this is the just-dawn light. katie and trey got up MUCH earlier than they'd have liked, but it's worth it (easy for me to say!)
two pork butts so big it takes the both of them to turn them.
that's just shy of 20 pounds of pork butt. How many more times can I say pork butt? PORK BUTT. I am so mature.
How did I get so lucky!! My husband cooks fantastic meals for me every night, we eat fantastic meals on fantastic vacations, and now my daughter and her husband make fantastic meals for me. Granted, I put in my time on their end of the spatula — many, many long hard years of getting dinner on the table every night after a long day of classes and work — but this feels like a big bonus.
Katie’s frying some okra to accompany the pulled pork sandwiches we’ll have, and there’ll certainly be leftover Halloween candy — if not, we’ll have her pumpkin cookies for dessert. And I think there’s a gallon of Blue Bell chocolate mint chip ice cream in the freezer. Have I said it’s kind of about the food already?
put the lime in the coconut and you feel better / put the lime in the coconut drink ‘em both up / put the lime in the coconut and call me in the morning (listening to this with Katie right now!)
So life goes up, and things seem mostly good or even great, and life goes down, and things seem to be falling apart — nothing new there. I happen to be in an upswing right now, and it’s occurring to me how subtle the details can be, but how important they are to the overall temperature. Right now, the big things that contribute to my feeling that things are right in the world are travel-related. My vacation to Vietnam definitely helped, and now my time in Texas is a big contributor (of which more in a minute). But I woke up to two small-ish communications this morning that were much more boosting than their word count might’ve suggested.
I’m in a book group and a poetry group, and I just love them both for different reasons. My book group is filled with such interesting, wonderful women — the book is often secondary, and while I regret that a lot, the women are just so wonderful I don’t usually mind not talking about the book. I do mind, but gee they’re so great and I only get to see them once a month and I inevitably come away from the night’s meeting feeling kind of high and happy. My poetry group is also filled with interesting, wonderful women (and one similar man), but we stay tightly focused on discussing poetry, which thrills me. Really, how often in your life do you get to sit and talk about something like that — whatever it is that you particularly love? We actually talk about the poems we bring or write, we deconstruct them, plumb their meaning, see them differently. The poetry group members are very very smart (as are the book group members) so it’s high-wire fun. I brought the woman who organized the poetry group into the book club and last night was her first meeting — unfortunately, I didn’t get to be there, since I am here in Austin, but she wrote me and her note was one of the boosting things for me this morning. Her appreciation of the women in the book group, and her thanks for bringing her in, made me feel so great. My life is so rich with all these wonderful people, women (and one man) whose lives and intellect I get to share so easily.
The other communication that gave me such a boost was a comment left on a previous post. The commenter’s blog-related point spoke to her pleasure in reading my writing, which she characterized as genuine. Well! For anyone who writes, is there a better thing to hear? I love to write and have writing-related dreams that I constantly pull off the shelf, gaze at, and then put back on the shelf. The idea that someone takes pleasure in my words is so thrilling, it’s like an energy boost that shoots my little rocket into the higher levels of space. Her comment reminds me too that we are all kinds of things, big and small, to others and we’re not even aware of it. I mean something to my friends that I’m not all that aware of — you do, too. And you mean more to me than you know, you who read and also you who read and comment.
Now, to Texas. Yee-ha! As always, when I got off the plane at the Austin airport, everything in me settled down and relaxed as I walked through the terminal. The people look SO familiar. I did’t know any of them, but I might have! There is a Texas look, familiar at least to Texans. In New York, the general look (big old over-generalization coming) is Italian or Jewish. I’m neither. But I do look like the people here, and it’s more than bone structure in the face. And then they sound like me, too, double great! Not many have accents as thick as mine, but Texas shows up in certain words pretty reliably. Also, if you’ve never flown into Austin, you should know this so you can quickly plan a trip: LIVE MUSIC in the airport. There’s a stage set up and the band that was playing when I arrived was pretty great! Also, the food in the airport is not the normal airport fare. No Chili’s or Cinnabon or that pretzel place. Instead, it’s local restaurants, really good Mexican food, barbecue, Schlotzsky’s (a local sandwich place with uniquely great bread), a local ice cream joint. You step off the plane directly into Austin sounds and Austin smells.
The flight from Chicago to Austin was kind of neat. You know there’s that very friendly, midwest, Chicago way of being — people just seem not to be guarded, and to smile easily? Well, combine that with Texas and you have friendly squared (y’all do know that Texans are very friendly, right? DO NOT go by our politicians, please, who are assholes). There was so much laughter in the airplane, loud friendly joking by the flight attendants, it helped my weary bones, I’ve got to tell you. And then when we started our descent into the Austin area, it was shocking to see how dry and brown everything was. Nothing green to be seen anywhere, so sad and tragic. So much heat and fire, so little rain, so much loss.
The best thing of all, of course, was my daughter and her husband waiting for me. I ran to them and just felt such overwhelming joy. It sucks not seeing your kid very often. You spend all those years knowing nearly everything about them (though boy can you be surprised to learn the things you *didn’t* know!), being able to look at their faces every day and have a sense of how they’re doing, being able to care for them when they’re sick or tired or blue, playing games with them, laughing or fighting with them…..and then suddenly you see them a time or two a year. I can’t stop staring at Katie, and I don’t want to do anything more than be near her, look at her, listen to her, live in the midst of the life she lives while I’m here. Katie and Trey took me directly to Chuy’s for some delicious TexMex (which you cannot get in New York. No TexMex, delicious or otherwise), and then we came home, to their beautiful and comfortable home filled with Katie’s cozy touches. I’m a happy mama right now. Life is good.
In the early 1800s, people would find the initials G.T.T. carved on the doors of family’s and friends’ houses — Gone To Texas. Texas was the place to go, a sanctuary for outlaws, a place to start all over again, a place to begin for the first time. For me, it’s just home.
The boogie-ing part, not the sleeping at the wheel part. (Though, side note: Once I was driving up IH-35, from Austin to Dallas, and stopped to get gas. There was a giant tour bus there, the kind that bands use. Austin being the official Live Music Capital of the World [oh, you bragging Texans you], it’s entirely common to see them so I didn’t give it a thought. As I passed the bus, I saw it was Asleep At The Wheel, and as I glanced in the open door, I saw the bus driver seemed to be asleep at the wheel. It made the inner kindergartner in me giggle.)
ANYWAY. Yeah. My flight leaves NYC at 6am, so do you realize what time I need to get up in the morning? I haven’t done the backwards math yet, but I’m grateful I am still in the jetlag state of reliably waking up at 2am. I can’t wait to spend time with my daughter Katie…..a whole week, so luscious. We’ll bake (and eat, including pinto beans and cornbread, a delicious treat I don’t get in NYC) and knit and talk and watch movies and shop and be homebodies together. We both love that.
Everyone rags on Texas — and I’ll be honest, Texas politicians make that so so easy — but Texas is so much more than its idiotic politicians. Really. (And remember, it was historically a hard-core Democratic state. YES IT WAS! It took a bad turn in the 80s, like much of the south did, but I have hope that someday it’ll return to its Democratic roots.) Anyway, there’s so much that’s great about Texas, and Austin. I loved this article 50 Reasons Texas is the Best State in America. It was compiled in response to a piece written by Manhattan-based Gawker listing states by their worst-ness (Texas came in at 13), and the Gawker writer says:
The Texan ego is as big as the state, and no matter how much you point out to them that, uh, hey what about all this extremely terrible stuff, they will not listen. If you guys would just shut up about it for a while, the rest of us might like you a little more.
The funny thing is — and I say this all the time to New Yorkers — you could say that very thing about New Yorkers, who think the sun rises and sets on Manhattan, and that just outside the Manhattan borders, ignorance, evil, and chaos reign. Hrmph.
Anyway. Boogie back to Texas! Whee! GTT! Whee!
“you been goofing with the bees?”
On his facebook wall, my son recently posted something he called “The Nostalgia Series.” That led me to think there would be at least one more post like it, but so far I’m still waiting. What he posted, though, filled me with nostalgia. Have you ever seen The Point, an animated movie from 1971? (Not available streaming, but on DVD on Netflix). It’s about a little boy named Oblio, born with a round head in a village where everyone’s heads are pointed, the houses are pointed, everything is pointed. Has a point. Oblio is different, and odd (but loved by his pointy-headed family), and eventually he’s cast out and has a bunch of adventures in the wider world. It’s brilliantly-colored, like a Peter Max print, but the best part is that Harry Nilsson wrote and performed the soundtrack. My kids loved it and so did I; we may have watched it hundreds of times over the years of their childhood, and when I hear even a whiff of a lyric or melody, I’m transported back, in that way beloved music can do.
Here’s a clip, with one very beautiful song (music starts at 30secs):
Nilsson said, “I was on acid and I looked at the trees and I realized that they all came to points, and the little branches came to points, and the houses came to point. I thought, ‘Oh! Everything has a point, and if it doesn’t, then there’s a point to it.’” That’s so him. Here’s another one of my favorites. Sigh.
Thanks Will, for starting the nostalgia series. I can take it from here. (Here’s the clip he originally posted — it’s so funny, such a relic of its times. I can dig it.)
“Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.” ~Lionel Hampton
This morning the sun broke through the clouds and there were blue skies….. as we were leaving. Boo. Still, we got to see and remember how much difference it makes when the sun hits the fall foliage. The oranges that were there, hidden by the cloudcast, emerged just for us.
moody berries -- don't know why, they just struck me as moody. sullen, perhaps. 
i want a little house like this, on a river. in fact, i have a very well-developed and detailed fantasy about such a house. i know what it would look like, down to the pillows on the couch.
not the most brilliant orange i've ever seen, but it'll do!
knitters and other yarn-ey folk like me might look at this and see a brilliant semi-variegated yarn. at least, i did.
a short and winding road. leads to someone's door, i'm sure.
Two weeks from today will be my birthday, and I was telling my husband this morning that in the lead-up to my birthday, I always find myself feeling more and more grateful…..about every little thing. Light. Color. Sweet air. smoke from fireplaces. Good coffee and tea. Thinking. Smiling. Everything. I feel overwhelmed by it, and I’m even grateful for that.
“There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings, as now in October.” ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
When I was a little girl, I especially loved the lessons about explorers and adventurers. Henry Hudson, John Cabot, those early explorers of America captured my imagination and I couldn’t get enough. I imagined what it must have been like, coming upon the great landscapes and waterways of this part of the world. My first job after graduate school, in 2003, took me to Rochester NY and Marnie was in college at Smith, in Massachusetts, so to visit her I drove over the Hudson River, and through the Catskills, and I was always filled with emotion. The great Hudson River…..I’d look up and down the river as best I could as I drove over the bridge, imagining those early sailing ships. I’d thrill with the place names that were reminders of the early Dutch Knickerbockers, like Kaaterskill Falls, and the native Lenape people who lived here first, like Esopus River. It’s a beautiful place, and I’m so happy I get to know it.
We generally restrict our visits to the area around Phoenicia, Hunter Mountain, and Windham, though we did explore the northern parts once en route to Montreal and Quebec City. But it’s this area I know best, and dearly love. To a Texan, mountains and forests are really special, so they always thrill me no matter how many times I come here. And fall color — I used to think that robins and colored leaves were made-up things, just for storybooks. So even though the fall color is not that great this year, thanks to the devastation wrought by Hurricane Irene, it’s still thrilling to little old Texan me.
no reds and oranges, but lots of vivid yellows
gorgeous rushing creeks, water pounding against rocks
sometimes yellow + creek!
i just thought this was super creepy. those two muddy puddles looked like eyes to me.
i always love this and have dozens of photos like it
this one too. rocks and leaves in a puddle. why do i love it so?
and this, the color and texture make me so happy
Hunter Mountain -- autumn technicolor, waiting for the blast of snow that will transform the landscape
THRILLING
makes my heart soar
yours too?
Here's my wonderful Wintry Mix sweater, by the way!
this autumn, 2011
The promised partly-cloudy but sunny skies never materialized yesterday; it was quite chilly and the skies were always flat gray, covered in clouds, but it was still a beautiful day. We hike and tramped around, ate some great food at Brios, and generally enjoyed this autumn day. The devastation is kind of shocking to see; Hurricane Irene was a joke in NYC, ballyhooed and overly prepared-for, but just a bit of wind and little rain. Up here, though, bridges and roads were destroyed, homes were devastated, belongings lost.
My Wintry Mix sweater is absolutely wonderful to wear; it’s a bit more rumpled-looking in the photo than it really is. I’d been hiking in it all day, and pulling on/off a coat, so it’s a bit goofed-up looking by my shoulder in a way that it’s not, really. I love everything about it, and imagine I’ll wear it a LOT this fall and winter!
home again home again jiggety jig. but no fat pigs purchased at the market this go-round.
my last evening in the Mekong Delta
We got home around midnight from our wonderful trip to Vietnam and Malaysia. It was just amazing; if you are interested, here’s a link to the flickr set. We saw such gorgeous scenery in the mountains near the China border, in the Mekong Delta area, and on the island of Borneo. Oh my, I can’t think about any of it without crying.
I got a lot of knitting done, because we were traveling around a lot. Also, 2.5 days floating down the Mekong River with nothing to do but watch the scenery means plenty of time for knitting. I finished the body of my yellow featherweight cardigan, and I’m ready to pick up the first sleeve. Maybe Sunday, though I’m awake all night long since I’m 12-hours off schedule so perhaps I’ll sleep on Sunday, who knows.
So what’d I miss? Anything great in your life? In the world? On Rav? I know I won’t get to read all the things I missed, so if I missed a great post on your blog please direct me to it! It’s good to be back home, but I desperately miss Vietnam. Hard to think about it without crying, seriously.
so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good bye, i leave and heave a sigh and say goodbye, goodbye!
It’s time, yo! We’re off on our fall vacation, to Vietnam and Malaysia (and the island of Borneo). I won’t be posting here until Sunday October 16.
We’ll arrive in Hanoi at 9:30am on Saturday, which is 9:30pm Friday (NYC time). However. From the looks and sound of the typhoon that’s approaching Vietnam, it’s extremely likely that we’ll be stuck in Hong Kong for a day or more. Not that Hong Kong is a bad place to be stuck — in fact, we wanted to see it — but I’m just so eager to get to Hanoi, and I don’t want our train trip to Sapa to get screwed up. Keep your fingers crossed, say a little prayer, send good thoughts, burn incense, please do whatever you do!
My travel knitting will be my little yellow featherweight cardigan and my KtyKozue scarf, in case it’s too muggy and sticky to deal with the malabrigo.
The title of this post is goodbye in both languages, so here you go in more familiar tongues: goodbye! au revoir! despedida! kveðja! hwyl fawr!
“The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body” — Publius Syrus
When I was young, I got migraine headaches associated with my cycle. Then, at age 28, I had a complete hysterectomy and — surprise!! — I got them whenever I was exposed to volatile organic compounds. Anything with a strong smell, like perfume, PineSol, most cleaners, bleach, and even natural smelly things like mildew. That has not been fun to live with all these years; now, when I smell a hint of perfume, it’s associated with fear and terror of the pain to come. I have plenty of sumatriptan on hand, and (usually) one hit will knock out the migraine before it develops, but often it takes two. Of course, that just changes one problem for another, because the after effects of that large a dose of sumatriptan are pretty miserable, themselves. That’s what happened to me yesterday.
So I had huge plans for the day, cleaning plans, organizing plans, getting-ready-for-the-trip plans, and they were all scuttled. I lay on the couch, against a heating pad for the brittle-tight muscles, and moaned all day. Barely moved all day. Except for my hands. Since my Wintry Mix sweater is so simple to knit, and worsted on Addi Turbos, I didn’t even have to look at what I was doing: perfect for my situation! One sleeve is completely finished, and yesterday I got the body done, divided at the sleeves, and I’m working up the back:
the fastest sweater I've *ever* knit
Since this is a busy and short week, and we’ll pull out of town late Thursday afternoon, I probably won’t finish the sweater before we go. DANG. It’d be fun to hunker down and finish it in such a short time. I definitely won’t take it with me; it’s quite hot and steamy where we’re going.
And here’s the best thing about having a situation that is excruciatingly painful: when it’s over, Joy! Rapture! Bliss! Clouds parting! Sun shining! All is right with the world, I can do anything! And on that note, I’m off to do chores! Whee! [edited: nope. No can do. Rebound. Stupid migraines.]
Way down south way down in Borneo, we’ll dance til the break of dawn-io, way down, on Borneo Bay. (Jim Kweskin and the Jug Band)
our little sampan, with our own crew of 3
I feel kind of breathless about this — it’s coming up so quickly, and I’m so excited — but a week from this Friday, at 1:30am, we’ll be flying off to Hong Kong for our next great adventure. From Hong Kong we fly to Hanoi (one of my favorite cities in the whole world), then we’ll take an overnight train to Sapa, in the mountains near the Chinese border. Back to Hanoi on the overnight train, then we’ll fly to Kuching, on the island of Borneo, then to Malacca, on the Malaysian peninsula, then up to Ho Chi Minh City where we’ll travel out into the Mekong Delta, on a private sampan. Our last night we’ll stay in a beautiful lodge in the delta, before heading back to Ho Chi Minh City for our flight back to Hong Kong and NYC. We’ll be gone for 16 days.
I always thought New York City and Paris were my favorite places in the world, and I do love those places, with all my heart and everything I am. But I very deeply love Vietnam — can’t say why, exactly, though I can list all kinds of things I love about it. I keep finding myself on the verge of tears, so happy that I get to go back there. I went to Vietnam in 2005 with my husband (6 months before we got married), and it was my first jarring travel experience. Before then, I’d been to Montreal and Quebec City, Cozumel and Isle Mujeres, Paris, London, and Glasgow. None of those places were jarring, they were Western and familiar, obviously. But Vietnam, it just blew me out of my socks. After a full day, I kind of hit a wall and didn’t think I could bear it. The alphabet was different, I had no idea what was going on, I couldn’t make sense of the money, almost no one spoke English, the food was sometimes mysterious, I couldn’t read anything, and some of the rules were unknown and scary, like the time we were taking a photo and an armed policeman ran toward us. That panicked feeling passed, and I relaxed a bit, though I continued to feel that sense of Otherness for the entire trip.
But the people were so gentle and busy and fast and laughing, the architecture (in Hanoi especially) was so distinctive, like Parisian architecture is. In both those places, you know where you are. The food was fresh and delicious (but don’t ask me about what my husband ate in Hue, he still can’t talk about it). The countryside is beautiful. But mainly, I think, it’s the people. I feel like I could live there and be very happy.
Will I feel the same sense of Otherness this time? Probably not, because I’ve been there before and I’ve now traveled to a lot of places that were uniquely foreign to me. I’m just so thrilled to be going back, I keep getting all choked up.
there’s very little as nice as knitting that’s working out as you hoped.
A bit of housework, a chat on the phone with a daughter, a disastrous pasta-making effort, and some knitting.
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- My “Oops I did it again” featherweight cardigan, cast on and underway.
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- Sleeve #1, one full ball of yarn. Close to the sleeve cap shaping, just another 13 rows.
So two things to say, here:
- MALABRIGO LACE, y’all. Oh boy do I get it now. It’s as soft as everyone says. It’s luscious, creamy, delicious, I want to run away with it. The color is so rich; the color in the photo is true, on my monitor. Deep yellow with a hint of orange. I don’t ever want to knit with anything else, as long as I live. I think I’m going to love this one even more than my red one. Hannah Fettig, you’re a genius with the little cardigan. So simple, nothing really, but wonderful.
- A sleeve in a day, along with the rest! Kind of amazing. I always had sleeves categorized in my head as “ugh, now it’ll be weeks.” Not with this yarn and these needles, man. Speedy Gonzales (speedy ka-dah-dis, if you’re my dear Katie). The angora and silk in the yarn gives it such a luxurious hand, I really like the fabric a lot. Amy Herzog, you fit-to-flatter wizard.
Homemade lasagna for dinner, even if no homemade pasta — smells so good, happy hands, soon-to-be-happy tummy, happy day. Ah! Time for a daily gratitude. I’m so grateful to be a maker, for which I take no credit. It’s just the software I came with, and I’m very very grateful for it. Grateful for the impulse, grateful for the experiences, grateful for the pleasures, grateful for the desire, grateful for the end results, grateful for the making life.
wow! I’m proud all right, proud as a whitewashed pig! (~the widow Sugrue, Darby O’Gill and the Little People, 1959)
Artists toil away in poverty and obscurity, making awesome things, giving it out to the universe, and recognition can be slow. Hard to come by. There in spirit, but spirit doesn’t cover a loaf of bread. You know how proud I am of Marnie’s work, and today Chicago is hearing about it. She was featured on the Chicagoist website! She made a wonderful set of graphic prints of the prerecorded announcements on the L train, and that was the primary point of the Chicagoist post. Here’s the one they featured:
They wrote:
Few things become unwanted earworms more quickly than the automated “L” station and train announcements. People have had harrowing nightmares where “Attention customers: an INBOUND train toward the Loop will be arriving shortly” plays endlessly, with the train never arriving at the station.
Monkey-Rope Press is the brainchild of illustrator, printmaker and bookbinder Marnie Galloway. Galloway’s Etsy store is a glorious time suck of amazing prints, none more so than these letterpress posters of “L” station announcements. We also love the bicycle subculture pugilism prints.
It’s never too early to begin your Christmas shopping.
!!!!!!!!! IT’S NEVER TOO EARLY TO BEGIN YOUR CHRISTMAS SHOPPING!!! Let the shopping begin!
we all need one another. Listen to Asa.
For Sunday morning, when the news of the world is nothing but horrible, when everything seems like it’s going to hell, when someone needs to do something, please. This Asa song came on while I was hemming an ao dai I bought in Vietnam a few years ago and it brought me peace and relaxation. We don’t have to do a 360, let’s do a 180. Drop your guns and your swords. Come on.
and…..we’re off!!! (in 14 hours )
Tonight I’m off to Turkey! My flight leaves JFK at 11pm, but I have so much to do today I won’t be posting again here until I get home. I’ll arrive in Istanbul around 4pm Saturday (which is 9am Saturday in NYC) but I probably won’t post anything the first day. Although who knows. I have a new camera battery so I shouldn’t have trouble with photos this time, like I did in Laos. I’m so excited!!! Bye y’all (which is the title of this post, by the way).
I don’t know who Asha Tyson is, but s/he is so right.
My first instinct was to write, “I don’t usually go for these kinds of things, but…” and then I realized that yes I do tend to go for these kinds of things. In fact, I think it’s just the I’m too cool for that this-century hipster attitude that has inserted itself in my brain, because I very much love these kinds of things.
Yeah, I believe that.
when the moon is in the seventh house, and jupiter aligns with mars…
Are you like me? Do you love time-lapse photography of the sky? Yeah? Here:
From the photographer: This was filmed between 4th and 11th April 2011. I had the pleasure of visiting El Teide. Spain´s highest mountain @(3718m) is one of the best places in the world to photograph the stars and is also the location of Teide Observatories, considered to be one of the world´s best observatories.
The goal was to capture the beautiful Milky Way galaxy along with one of the most amazing mountains I know El Teide. I have to say this was one of the most exhausting trips I have done. A large sandstorm hit the Sahara Desert on the 9th April and at approx 3am in the night the sandstorm hit me, making it nearly impossible to see the sky with my own eyes.
Interestingly enough my camera was set for a 5 hour sequence of the milky way during this time and I was sure my whole scene was ruined. To my surprise, my camera had managed to capture the sandstorm which was backlit by Grand Canary Island making it look like golden clouds. The Milky Way was shining through the clouds, making the stars sparkle in an interesting way. So if you ever wondered how the Milky Way would look through a Sahara sandstorm, look at 00:32.
Music by my friend: Ludovico Einaudi – “Nuvole bianche” with permission.
ch-ch-ch-ch-cha-nges…
In psychology, it’s said that people do mesearch. He studies self-esteem? He doesn’t have any. She studies deception? Big liar. He studies social dilemmas with a focus on people who don’t play nice? He doesn’t play nice. Etc. Social psychology is all about us as social animals, the way the world outside us has far more to do with who we are than we like to believe. The way roles, and scripts, and other people shape our behavior — and then of course we swear that no, that’s not right, we wanted to do that.
Digression #1: Here’s the coolest research I know. So some psychologists go to a mall with a fake questionnaire. As a reward for taking the survey, participants get to choose one of a set of items. In one study, for example, the items were pantyhose. The secret is that every single pair was identical, in every way (and that wasn’t disguised; in other words, the researchers didn’t try to make them appear different). People would mull them over, look them up and down, and then pick one (very reliably, the one on the far right). That’s interesting, but here’s the point: They would be asked why they picked that one (the real point of the research) and people just made shit up. “Well, I picked it because it’s the highest quality.” “I picked it because it’s sheerer than the others.” “I chose that one because it’s the best match to my skin tone.” Etc. And they were all identical. The title of the published paper was “Telling More Than We Know,” and it’s a classic. People do all kinds of things and then make up stories — on the fly — about why they did the thing. And they’ll insist, very strongly. Hilarious.
Digression #2: I’m a social psychologist, but a very unsocial animal. I’m awkward, shy, uncomfortable, and hate parties with the burning passion of a thousand suns. I’m good one-on-one (love that), ok with 2 others, start to wobble with 3, and am lost with 4+. I don’t know how to do small talk, and go immediately into inappropriately deep stuff that makes people suddenly remember they need to go to the bathroom. At home.
So all of that is to say this:
Such a busy social butterfly I am! Last week, lunch with a friend one day, breakfast with another friend one day, and my writing group one evening. This week: breakfast with a friend one day, breakfast with Will this morning and dinner with 2 girlfriends tonight, and then breakfast with another friend tomorrow morning. I hardly recognize myself!
I hardly recognize myself right now, anyway. I daydream about doing plank (plank!) and love to think about getting my form right, on squats. [me?! the most exercise i ever did was moving the mouse around.] I care about how I’m eating and want to be sure I get enough protein and the other stuff I need. And I’m kind of dressed up every day….even just to sit around the house. I enjoy shopping! ME! Yesterday, before my Wednesday appointment, I had some time to spare and stopped in at Filene’s Basement to see what’s new. ME!
I woke up from an unremembered dream a couple nights ago, and I didn’t know who I was, where I was, what I was doing, when I was (by which I mean what decade it is), and couldn’t figure out what I might be doing the next day. Complete and utter identity confusion. Who is this exercising socializing careful-eating dressed-up adult-like person?!
one of the top 5 weekends of my LIFE
My little idea for “weekend’s best” was to post one or two photos, but I indulge myself this week because it was one of the best weekends of my entire life. Why?
- Marnie came to visit.
- She and Will saw each other for the first time since July 2008. And it was good.
- I got to have dinner with two of my kids at the same time — now I just need to get us all together at the same time….hard, since we’re so far-flung. But I’m going to do it, somehow.
- Marnie and I went shopping and I got this very cute little style going, now.
- Marnie helped set my life on a different course with a strength training routine, and lots of conversation about it. I get it now. I’m ready to go.
So here are some photos that capture some of the above (all photos courtesy of Marnie; click to enlarge any of them). It was wonderful.
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- always with their heads together. always.
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- sib play
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- will, smiling at marnie
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- smiling at her brother — she has such a great smile!
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- another cute outfit! me happy, facing 2 of my kids and missing the 3rd really badly.
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- heads together. again. always. i love this one.
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- will at highline park, wearing the hat Katie knitted for him
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- one cute outfit!
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- bad Easter candy debauchery. you can’t see the Peeps because I already ate them.
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- marnie at highline park
Weekend’s best, of the best weekend.
oh happy, sunny day. oh how i’ve missed you.
I had breakfast with Will this morning, which made me so so happy. We see each other every week (he only lives a couple blocks away from me), and it’s usually over a meal or a beer. Starting my day with him was especially wonderful. And you mothers out there, you’ll get this: he still smells like my boy.
Will refuses to have a straight photo made; I have literally hundreds of photos he took at arm’s length with every possible facial expression you could imagine. Plus extreme close-ups, some of which freak me out if I accidentally run across them, like his nostril. So I asked him if I could take his picture, and at the very last second he copped this sneer. Too bad, because his smile is gorgeous.
bagels & lox, a cafe au lait, and my son. sneering. c'mon, will, show me your beautiful smile.
And then, not to make so damn much out of the simplest hat in the whole world, here’s the finished hat, on my head. It’s the dreaded “shot in the bathroom mirror” pose. And this will officially end my discussion of Marnie’s hat.
so slouchy! i love it. marnie wanted it because she has long hair and often wears braids, pinned up like katie davies (needled) does. this should cover her.
adorable, fast, fun, and well, adorable. not me, the hat. though i am fun.
I have loads of work to do so this is quick. I decided not to do the Knit Crochet Blog week, though i did it last year and had a blast with it. I don’t know, I’m just not feeling it this year. But I do look forward to reading everyone else’s posts!
Happy Monday y’all. I hope it’s as sunny where you are as it is in NYC today. Glory. Bliss. Sun.
happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear sweet marnie, happy birthday to you!
She’s 26 years old, today (exactly half my age!). She’s an artist / weight lifter / thoughtful smart loving funny creative sweet tough genuine amazing authentic person. Marnie has been special from the moment of her birth (and I’m not just kidding here, or using hyperbole or just being her mom) (though I am her mom) (and real proud of it) (and of her too) (because she is a fine, fine human being). If she loves you you’re a very lucky person. I’m a very lucky person. Happy birthday, Marnie my love.
she loves photobooths
she loves nature (though she prefers ants to turtles)
she used to LOVE being fancy and adorable
she loves irony -- (as in, wearing this pink fuzzy sweater ironically)
she loves Tom (me too)
she's one of the smartest people I know (Smith 2006), and i happen to know a bunch of very smart people so that's saying something
and she's freaking aDORable on top of it all
she loves cows
y'all remember this one.
and she loves me.
You ought not to practice childish ways, since you are no longer that age. Homer, “The Odyssey”
My understanding of the traditional anniversary gift ideas (i.e., the first anniversary is paper, the 50th is gold) is that it’s about replacing wedding gifts that have worn out. So whatever you got for a wedding gift that was made of paper would be worn out by the first anniversary. That seems like a dicey explanation, but whatever, I’m going with it.
the traditional 5th year anniversary gift is wood, but look at the gift ideas on the bottom line, there! GO RIGHT AHEAD, I won't stop you if you want to give me that gift. You're wonderful like that.
So I will celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary at the end of April, whee! That’s a biggie for old people like me who finally got it right, here at the end of the game. Since I’m struggling along economically as a freelancer (read that: not making nearly enough money), I’m thinking hard about our vacation strategy. I always use frequent flyer miles, so that’s a huge savings right there. In the late winter/early spring, I always take a 1-week beach vacation, and in the fall I take a 2-week far away vacation. For the last two springs, I went to an island off the coast of Honduras, and it was wonderful but I’ve kind of exhausted the possibilities in that fun place. I was considering Barcelona, but MAN is it expensive.
It’s looking like I’m talking Turkey. Istanbul for sure, but then very quickly to the Mediterranean coast, to Olympos. This is where Poseidon stood when he watched Odysseus sail away from Calypsos, where he got really pissed off and sent yet another big storm to throw the weary wanderer off track. Asshole Poseidon. He’s a real jerk that way.
Been to Turkey? Visited Olympos? Got any recommendations to share? It looks like some of the most fascinating scenery is over near the Syria border, but for people with my passport and last name, that doesn’t seem like a smart place to be. I’m kind of hooked on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey, so I’d love to hear any experience you may have!
I’m collecting things that are guaranteed to make me smile and laugh. God knows there are plenty of days I need them. If you get a laugh or smile too, all the better.
See the links just above — music and videos and words. It’s an idiosyncratic curated collection of joy. But what isn’t.
I’m collecting things that are guaranteed to make me smile and laugh. God knows there are plenty of days I need them. If you get a laugh or smile too, all the better.
See the links just above — music and videos and words. It’s an idiosyncratic curated collection of joy. But what isn’t.
will i wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to, i will.
will and katie, 6 years ago
Strictly speaking, of course, that photo is not from this past weekend, but it summarizes my weekend in the best way possible. Katie is my oldest daughter (she lives in Austin), and Will is my only son (he lives here in Manhattan). The story is long and terrible and makes me prone to hours of tears, but Will has been hiding himself away from our family for the past 5 years. He hasn’t spoken to any of us since he appeared at Katie’s wedding, 2.5 years ago. Estrangements are always complicated and this one certainly is, but I promise that you can’t imagine the pain of it, unless your child does such a thing. The only thing worse is death.
Katie came to town Saturday in order to find Will and do a kind of intervention; she had letters to read that we’d all written, and she made a big photo album. She was not going to let him keep doing this without being forced to hear just how much it hurt us. I thought it was a mission doomed to fail…..find him? Here in NYC? Even that seemed impossible.
But find him, she did (she’s a force of nature, that one). And talk to him, she did. And listen, he did. And last night I got to see him, and sit next to him, and touch his face. We cried and laughed and cried, and it was awful and terrible and wonderful. Katie’s here until Wednesday, and they’re spending much of tomorrow together. Will and I will make a date to see each other again. It’s too much to hope without caution; we’ve all been so hurt, we’re all taking care of our hearts, but I’m the mother so I’m in all the way, no matter what happens. O happy happy day….
it’s about time! i’m pleased to introduce you to……
excuse everything about this photo please!
There’s nothing good to say about this picture — my hair is its morning mess, there’s nothing styled here, the sweater is just off the needles and so not yet blocked, and it’s pinned together with yellow-headed pins — but LOOK! My Dark & Stormy sweater [rav link] is a fait accompli! (and p.s., that’s not really a muffin top around my waist, it’s the unblocked sweater pooching out. i swear. )
And do I love it? With the heat of a thousand burning suns. With the calories of a thousand triple-decker chocolate cakes. With the winds of a thousand level 5 tornadoes. With the spit of a thousand tobacco-chewing cowboys. With the seeds of a thousand watermelons. I’d say I do.
Janna, I think you were on to something. I needed to finish something. I haven’t had an FO in months, and finishing this has re-lit the fire in mah belly. Now I just want to grab Eve’s Rib and finish her off. I’m in a tough spot since I came to be crazy about sweater knitting; knitting small things doesn’t thrill me like it used to, but it takes me a long time to finish a sweater so the FOs are fewer and farther between. I’ll have to figure this out.
Au revoir, ennui! Hasta luego, malaise! Hello, new sweater!
how many ways can we love Cee Lo? AND DONUTS.
Popping in for a very quick post while eating my impoverished little diet lunch. These two videos have my head spinning. An ASL version of Cee Lo Green’s F*^k You, made even better if that’s at all possible, and a piece on Cambodian donut makers in southern California. I have a soft spot in my heart for all things Cambodian….and, well, donuts. My kryptonite. My achilles’ heel. And now I’ve gone and revealed that to all of you. (mmm, donuts, part of the explanation for today’s lunch I guess.)
Awesome, right? R-i-i-i-g-h-t.
I really wish you’d been with me last night to attend this amazing event. Since you weren’t, I’ll give you a rundown. It won’t be the same. 
Last night I went to the 31st Annual Winter Solstice Celebration at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. The Cathedral is just a couple of blocks from our apartment (I took you on a little tour earlier this year, remember?), and it’s quite magnificent, especially at this time of year. I’ve been listening to the concert on NPR for decades, off and on, and it just occurred to me that I could walk over and hear it live. It’s everything – music, dance, light, theater – in an awe-inspiring setting.
Three times I became so overwhelmed with energy and joy and awe I thought I was going to throw up. I had to press my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth, and hold myself, to stay intact. My brain lost words and my edges disappeared. I don’t mean to sound all weird and strange, but that’s what happened. It happens to me now and then. I am prone to fits of joy and awe.
The concert opened with Paul Winter standing in a small cubby above the enormous pipe organ at the rear of the cathedral; a spotlight helped us all know to turn around.
here's the giant organ end of the cathedral
If you’re unfamiliar with Paul Winter, he plays soprano sax and he’s quite amazing. You know most cathedrals are shaped like a cross – this one is, and at the cross intersection an enormous stage had been set up. There was seating on both sides of the stage (we couldn’t even see the audience on the other side), so the performers had to play to their fronts and backs. When Paul Winter stood on stage alone, it felt like he was dancing – you know how you dance with your husband in the living room now and then, how you just kind of move a little bit, back and forth and around? It was beautiful.
The Force of Nature Dance Theater contributed a couple of dances and really, both times I thought I’d die, or throw up from overwhelm and joy. They were amazing. The came to the stage from the rear of the cathedral, dancing up the center aisle. In the first performance they wore costumes that were traditional African (but probably elaborated):
force of nature dancers, joying their way toward the stage
maybe if i show them twice you'll have a sense of them
the drummers led the way
the way those dancers moved – they became less like individual human beings and more like energy beings, I can’t figure out how to say it. They were amazing. Many of their moves were traditional African, but then seriously ramped up. OH it was amazing. I really wish you’d been there.
The third thing that made me lose it was an Armenian singer named Arto Tunçboyacıyan. I tried to find a video of him singing as he sang last night, because it was just not of this world. The setting helped; he stood on the second level of some rigging on the side of the stage, and he was lit by an orange spotlight. His song sounded variously like howling, and pleas, and wails, and words I never heard and didn’t understand but I knew what he was saying. I couldn’t find any performance that was similar; last night he was nearly shouting the song, it had a full-diaphragm force. This one is pretty close. PLEASE LISTEN TO IT, you have to hear this voice.
And here are others if you like him (with a rapper; sweet, on an Armenian tv program; on the BBC world music award program; here’s his website page with mp3 file downloads. I’m getting them all.) I’ll never have an experience like last night’s again, hearing that voice in the dark, so powerful, in that setting, unexpected.
Click through to listen: Arto Tunçboyaciyan
Since the point of the program was the solstice, there was a good bit of performance focusing on the reemergence of light after all the dark, on the promise of dawn and hope. I was surprised to see this coming up the aisle toward the stage, near the end of the show:
the giant earth being rolled in
That blue-green figure at the bottom is Paul Winter on the distant stage; the blue ball was a beautifully representational earth. It came up the aisle, then it was moved onto the stage and connected to rigging, then slowly lifted up far above the stage. There were spotlights on it, and it hung there, slowly rotating for the remainder of the show. I went back and forth between awe, feeling like it was kind of corny, then back to awe.
Since solstice has been celebrated much longer than our religions, by people with a different understanding of it than ours, the old stuff was in the show too – the chaos and clatter and noise in the darkness. They’d created a solstice tree, hung with cymbals and noisemakers of all kinds, which they struck in the dark:
the solstice tree: the spiral solstice tree of sounds is an analog to the traditional tree of lights. inspired by mythic traditions of the tree of life and the world tree. the myriad bells, gongs, and chimes symbolize the diversity of beings in the life family.
That’s the Force of Nature dancers around the tree; I took that shot very quickly as I was leaving.
If you ever get the opportunity to attend this concert, take it. If you ever get the opportunity to attend a performance by the Force of Nature Dance Theater, do whatever you have to do to make that happen. And if you ever have a chance to hear Arto Tunçboyacıyan sing in person, you have to.
[and now, to indulge my crabby side. The guy sitting next to me last night was incredibly annoying - let me count the ways: 1) he'd occasionally bob back and forth - extremely - as if he were at the Wailing Wall. I thought maybe he was having a fit or something. 2) he had a cold and throughout the 3-hour long performance, he continuously rattled his bag of Halls Cherry Cough Drops, noisily unwrapping them and then clattering them against his teeth. He didn't suck the smelly things, he just clattered them around his mouth, against his teeth. 3) he was tall and looked like Ichabod Crane, and he brought binoculars. in order to use them, he had to stretch his arms out to the side and then grab them, as if he were preparing to play the piano or something. then he'd lean forward and his elbows were sticking straight out to the sides. in my face. 4) he constantly spoke to the performers. 5) he seemed to think we should all clap (loudly) with the drums, throughout the performance. i think he assumed that if he just kept doing it, we'd all finally join in. we didn't. 6) he believed he needed to tell me how to appreciate the performance. "You do know that he's behind us now, don't you?" ISN'T IT A WONDER HE'S ALIVE TODAY??
And there was a big gang of middle-aged people in the row behind us, in from NJ or one of the other boroughs -- one of the ones with a very thick accent, one where they believe talking loud makes it better. And they couldn't let bits of performance dawn gradually, as soon as one of them spotted something they had to tell everyone: look, there's a tree coming in. Again, it's a wonder they survived me last night.]
Next Tuesday is the solstice – as it always does, the earth turns and shifts and the darkness ends. Note to self: remember that.
dreidel, dreidel, dreidel, I made it out of clay…..
GENIUS.
Chanukah oy Chanukah
A yontif a sheyner,
A lustiker a freylekher
Nisht do nokh azoyner
Ale nakht mit dreydlech shpiln mir,
Frishe heyse latkes, esn on a shir.
three things that choke me up, here on a bitter cold Friday morning
The newest:
How’d they do that without being corny? I was watching it all alone this morning at 6am, kind of steeled against being moved because I’d read that it was moving (like, ‘oh yeah? not me buddy…’) and then there I was with big tears in my eyes.
Next: I know I put this on the Laos blog on Thanksgiving, but I find myself unable to stop thinking about it. When I was a little kid, I was dark. I read too much Kafka and Camus at too young an age, wondered about the meaning of life, blah blah blah, loved to call myself an “existentialist” by which I meant what people usually mean, which seems to be an assumption that it’s all meaningLESS. But of course that’s not what it really means; at least, that’s not the end of it. Existentialism really means that we endow the meaning ourselves, more or less. I once heard Leo Buscaglia say that people who wonder about the meaning of life are really just talking about the experience of life, that the point is to experience life. I’ve become very impatient with people who mope around and say there’s no meaning. FUCK THAT, yes there is. You’re here, we’re here, we get to be here. And here’s the bit I can’t stop thinking about, that I put on my Laos blog, from Cat’s Cradle, The Books of Bokonon (Kurt Vonnegut, of course):
God made mud. God got lonesome. So God said to some of the mud, “Sit up!” “See all I’ve made,” said God, “the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars.” And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. Lucky me, lucky mud. I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done. Nice going, God. Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn’t have. I feel very unimportant compared to You. The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn’t even get to sit up and look around. I got so much, and most mud got so little. Thank you for the honor! Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep. What memories for mud to have! What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met! I loved everything I saw! Good night.”
Yeah. Every day that we get to be here – even for the real shitty stuff – it’s an honor. Lucky us, and I mean that in the most honest, least ironic way.
And finally (since this is just the $200 category), this one always makes me cry and fits well with the Vonnegut passage, for me:
Happy Friday y’all.
we are the world, we are the linguists. we make theories.
I LOVE THIS!!! And Marnie – I see something in here for The Sociologists. Drag Tom over to watch this.
Totally, totally amazing.
follow us to laos and cambodia!! here’s our travel blog -
click here to visit our travel blog!
We’re en route to Laos and Cambodia, y’all – you may not know this, but we’re good about keeping up our travel blog while we’re traveling. As long as we have a connection, we try to post every day. Pictures, stories, even little bits of video. We’ve done this for all our travel blogs – vietnam, croatia, peru, holland, honduras, india, everywhere.
We’ll land in Phnom Penh Saturday Nov 20 around 6am (NYtime), so we won’t have any posts until later that day, at the earliest. But do check in with us now and then – we’ll be seeing some amazing things and we love to share! I’ll be back to Thrum-ming on December 5.
(four words to tempt you – Thanksgiving at ANGKOR WAT)
Angkor Wat at the approach of sunset - incredible....
Choum reap lia! and La gohn! (goodbye, in Khmer and Lao) See you from the other side of the world.
xoL
i love cee-lo green, and i love brooklyn brown ale, and i love my family. wait, that’s not the right order.
- Cee-Lo Green. Maybe you caught him on The Colbert Report, singing a modified version of his big hit (replacing the “f*^ you” with “Fox News”). I’m not embedding the video here in case you’re offended by the F word (in which case don’t click his linked name….but really, you’re missing SUCH a great song, maybe you can just pretend he’s saying Fox News or something).
- Brooklyn Brown Ale – man, if you like a very hoppy beer, this one is GREAT. I don’t drink much, never more than one drink of anything, and this one will be my new go-to ale. YUM.
- anticipating my trip….I leave Thursday morning for Phnom Penh, as I keep saying. Because I am so so SO excited!!
- knitting. See posts on this blog for evidence. I don’t need to tell y’all about this one.
- Y’ALL. My friends, my deeply loved kids, strangers who just aren’t friends yet. All a y’all.
NO. WAY. I’ve won twice in the last month. Is everyone being nice to me because I’m about to die?
whee!!! You know how wonderful it is when bloggers sponsor giveaways… especially when the thing given away is something that makes you tingle, something that induces a spasm of want it? There’s an inverse relationship between those really prized things and the possibility that you’ll win, though, because well yeah, you and about a million other people want it.
check out this site if you love a beautiful aesthetic
Yesterday, Susana at MAKE.GOOD studio offered an Envelope Zipper Pouch, 12″x14″, made of charcoal felted wool and lined with gray and white ticking fabric. My mouth watered, and of course I entered.
see what I mean? Isn't it LUSCIOUS?
I love the colors, and the magnetic draw of the gorgeous charcoal wool felt. I entered, never expecting to win (cf above, about that inverse relationship and all).
Cut to today………..I WON! And check out how she announced it – this post has a 40-second embedded video that sets a new standard for announcing things. Definitely click that link and watch it, it’s adorable. I’d have embedded it here for you if I could, but now that I think about it, it’s better that you click over. And then look at the whole site. And then subscribe. All the cool kids are doing it.
Thanks, Susana. I’ll be a foaming-at-the-mouth proselytizer for your beautiful designs!
I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.
Spotted on first milk and immediately appropriated here (more from me after this stanza):
Flow on, river! Flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!
Gorgeous clouds of the sun-set! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me;
Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!–stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!
Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house, or street, or public assembly!
Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!
Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!
Play the old role, the role that is great or small, according as one makes it!Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, “86: Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” 11, 111-121
When my mood and my being languish in the Slough of Despond, I always turn to Leaves of Grass. A couple of years ago I was lost and wandering around in darkness, and I clung to Walt like a drowning woman clings to a buoy in the middle of a storm, desperately. You could almost close your eyes and just pick a line – any line – and find what you need. Of course there are the famous lines that have stumbled into our common consciousness – the barbaric yawp, for instance, but these are the ones that kept saving me back then. I wore out the paper of this section of my book, underlining and re-underlining and flagging and thumbing and clutching:
50
There is that in me—I do not know what it is—but I know it is in me.
Wrench’d and sweaty—calm and cool then my body becomes,
I sleep—I sleep long.
I do not know it—it is without name—it is a word unsaid,
It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.
Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on,
To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me.
Perhaps I might tell more. Outlines! I plead for my brothers and sisters.
Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
It is not chaos or death—it is form, union, plan—it is eternal
life—it is Happiness.
51
The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
52
The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab
and my loitering.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
DANG. I cannot read these lines without crying, and being moved by some emotion I’m too paltry to name.
And as long as we’re talking about words, have you read much Raymond Carver? I’d only read Cathedral, and loved it, but of course I knew the title “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” In fact, I use that construction now and then, and think I’ve even used it here on my blog. What we talk about when we talk about X. One of my friends, an author of mine, gave me an amazon gift certificate for my birthday and I bought that Carver short story collection, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. WELL. Yesterday I read that particular story 6 times in a row, nonstop. I’d get to the end, cry, and then turn back to the beginning and read it again. Cry, repeat. Cry, repeat. And I cannot say why I’m crying. The last 3-sentence paragraph makes me cry all by itself, and feel something inarticulable:
I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.
The human noise, in the silence.
I used to make fun of myself and say with a contemptuous sneer, I’m such a sap. How sad! It’s something I value, I love being touched and moved by words, by the world, by the inarticulable. The moments when I guess it’s my soul vibrating, or something.
So anyway – I’d planned to do a little Thankful Thursday deal, and I had specific things to talk about, things i’m thankful for, but these’ll do just fine. Read Carver and Whitman, and you don’t have to thank me.
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, “86: Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” 11, 111-121
just one of those days, the one where i’m so very glad to be alive. you know.
seeing: this very long rectangular gift-wrapped box. what could it be?! i’ll know tomorrow.
what's IN there????
hearing: the hiss of the radiator and the hum of the humidifier
tasting: mint tea, yum
mint tea, always yummy
touching: besides the keyboard? well, I keep reaching into my knitting basket to touch these two luscious things:
color and texture, this counts for seeing AND touching!
smelling: the yeasty smell of homemade bread rising. pizza dough, actually. which means we’ll have a very yummy dinner tonight!
These are not senses, but I’m calling them anyway:
- anticipating: my birthday tomorrow, and leaving for our trip to Laos and Cambodia in 13 days
- grateful for: you, my life, and for being alive
let me introduce you to one of my favorite artists – Andy Goldsworthy.
One of my dearly-loved friends told me she might be going to Scotland for an Anselm Keifer exhibit; since she’s my art friend (among other things) we started talking about artists we love, and I got to thinking – again – about Andy Goldsworthy, whose work haunts me. Do you know him? There’s a gorgeous film about him and his work called Rivers and Tides (streaming here on Netflix!), and no matter how many times I’ve watched it, I always want / need to watch it again. In fact, I think I’ll watch it again after I publish this post. Here’s the trailer:
Of the myriad reasons I love the film, one is that he just is an artist, it’s not what he does it’s who he is, and you really get a sense of what the world is like for him. Plus, his work is just so beautiful. And of course it’s all about time, and permanence (i.e., impermanence), and the world, and Everything.
I was going to plop in a few photos of his work but couldn’t even narrow it to a few “favorites” because I love them all. Here’s the Google Images page for him, you’ll get a quick overview. This is the ‘works’ page on his website for another quick overview. If you happen to live in my neck of the woods, generally speaking, you may know about Storm King Art Center; he has an installation there too. There are a number of books and other media about him and his work.
I love to share things with you – I hope his work makes you happy! (And on top of everything else, the tiny little cherry on the big gorgeous sundae, he has an adorable accent. )
Rhinebeck and the Catskills in autumn – loads of color
It didn’t begin auspiciously: Friday was cold, windy, and rainy. I made it to Phoenicia without encountering too much wind or rain, but by the time I got to my little cabin, the cold rain was coming down just enough to make me feel all blue and miserable as it ran down my collar. Yuck. I went to Brio’s, where I always eat in Phoenicia, and whatever I had, I loved it. Funny that I can’t remember what it was – too much good food this weekend, I guess.
Since Saturday was supposed to be cold and rainy, and Sunday warm, blue-skied, and beautiful, I decided to piddle around Saturday and then go to Rhinebeck on Sunday. The place I stayed was about an hour away from Rhinebeck, so I didn’t want to go back and forth. So Saturday I slept in, ate a late (and delicious!) breakfast, relaxed (which means I got some knitting done), watched movies, took walks when the skies cleared, ate pizza at Brio’s, and just had a wonderful day.
what a gorgeous day at Rhinebeck!
Sunday was indeed gorgeous, and I got to Rhinebeck shortly after the doors opened. I went through all the exhibits and booths a couple of times, and I bought some yarn:
Jamieson & Smith, Shetland Supreme (2-ply lace), colorway fawn - 5 skeins
Spirit Trail Fiberworks - Clotho (colorway dragon's blood, isn't that deliciously named?), 3 skeins
I’m not sure what I’ll make with the Shetland Supreme – probably a beautiful Estonian shawl for myself – but with the dragon’s blood yarn I’m making the Laar cardigan (Gudrun Johnston). See y’all, I’ve become a sweater maker deluxe!
After my Rhinebeck visit, I went to this absolutely beautiful place I visit a couple times a year – Innisfree Gardens. It’s only open spring through early fall, and I had a feeling this was the last weekend so I set aside enough time to check….and I was right, this was the last weekend. The light was nothing short of amazing; even though I have hundreds of pictures of this place, the ones I took today left me speechless. I couldn’t stop looking at the reflection in the still water of the lake. The blue skies and white clouds, the beautifully-colored trees, and the peaceful landscaping, it was just magical.
When I got home, I got a great parking spot (that makes things so much better when you live in NYC), and I came home to my package of goodies from Angela:
Okay yarns, the color is called sweetie-pie!
Days like this – the perfect definition of autumn in New York.
i won! i won! i won! and it’s red, too – double trouble!
So you remember I won the giveaway over on Oiyi’s Crafts blog (thank you again, Angela!)? Awesome – her new LaReine shawl pattern, plus an adorable tape measure (thank you Tomo!), plus a skein of yarn courtesy of Okay Knits (thank you Jane!). Awesome. What a game changer for someone like me, who never wins anything.
But my sweet little sundae o’ delight just got a cherry on top of it. There were three winners, and three skeins of yarn. First to respond got first choice of color; I figured I was last to respond (wrong again, Lori), so I was ready to be thrilled with any of the three beautiful colors. BUT NO – I got my first choice, this beautiful red!
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- isn’t it lovely! add it to your queue! the LaReine Shawl
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- my choice – the red one, on the right. yay for red!!
It’s nice to pass along generosity of spirit, so do check out the shawl pattern (linked to rav, above), and Tomo’s and Jane’s etsy shops (also linked above).
And I’m getting in the mood for another giveaway; right now I have 275 posts and 1242 comments….time to put on my thinking cap. Wait, I don’t have a thinking cap. Better knit one. I’ll come up with something soon!
Happy Rhinebeck, or if not Rhinebeck, happy October weekend!
the art of relaxating – you’ve gotta see this
cats with hats, no need to say ANYTHING else.
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