Shelves!

It took over a year for me to get it done, but I now have shelves in the garage. (I feel like Elwood in my favorite clip.) Look at the storage capacity--a cat and a bucket!

Just kidding, I started filing it up:

If you're thinking this looks similar to the other custom, well-built shelving unit my dad put in the basement last year, that's because he built this one too, and did a similarly excellent job. Thanks, dad!

Friday Unrelated Information

1. From the ever-wonderful Letters of Note blog (check out Steinbeck writing to his former professor, too),  here's Noel Coward giving relationship advice to Marlene Dietrich:

Do please try to work out for yourself a little personal philosophy and DO NOT, repeat DO NOT be so bloody vulnerable. To hell with God damned "L'Amour." It always causes far more trouble than it is worth. Don't run after it. Don't court it. Keep it waiting off stage until you're good and ready for it and even then treat it with the suspicious disdain that it deserves. 

"Gay husbands" give the best advice, don't they? 

2. Here is a song about a lazy harp seal, who has neither a job, nor money, nor camera, nor jacket. It pretty much made my week.

Skyler

He continues to be the cutest baby in the world:

That is all.

Goodbye, Duck

Did you hear that bassist Donald "Duck" Dunn died in his sleep Monday at the age of 70? He was, of course, the long-time bassist for Booker T and the MGs; but I got to know him from The Blues Brothers (of course). Here he is in the white t-shirt, with the pipe:

You can hear more clips from his most famous performances here. 

Tuesday Project Roundup: Look!!

I think the title deserves two exclamation points, because the fact that I had a few hours to work on this tunic is nothing short of amazing. 

It's not quite done yet--it needs a collar and a hem and some topstitching--but I'd forgotten how much I can get done when I have the Fortress of Solitude back to myself.

Happy Birthday, Arthur Sullivan

Yesterday was the birthday of Arthur Sullivan, the second half of Gilbert and Sullivan and the one responsible for the music. Or, in other words, I now have an excuse to post this:  

Also: This.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Depressed Copywriter is pretty much perfect, especially if you know of or happen to be a depressed copywriter. Some examples: 

2. On a less cynical note, I hope all the moms out there have a Happy Mother's Day. If you need a card for your own badass mother, you can download a printable PDF of this one here. 

What Camping As A Vegetarian Is Often Like

Hippie Poem Wednesday

This hippie poem appeared on The Writer's Almanac today, which gives it far more poetical credibility than coming from, say,  a site with the name of Mystic Mamma. It's by Joy Harjo, whose birthday is today.

Eagle Poem

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can't see, can't hear
Can't know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren't always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon, within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Car Knitting

Before the camping trip I realized that 1.) I would probably not be driving and 2.) if so, then I could knit in the car. So I looked around for a small accessory-type project and landed on a knitted tie (using this pattern). 

No, it is not for me. But it's not a sweater, so I'm hoping to avoid any "sweater curses."  And no, I haven't worked on it since the car ride home.

Sunday Night Conversations: The Right Word

Here's some advice about word choice, as given out by my best friend last night: 

I watched The Universe last night and they were describing things like the scale of our solar system and the speed of light. And that's the time to use the word "awesome"--not when someone refills the ice in your water.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. This is making the rounds in advertising circles and it is awesome: This Advertising Life. 

2. Here are some pictures of Skyler enjoying his birthday presents this week, taken from my brother's blog. 

Playing the piano!

And riding on an inflatable rubber burro...

I have no idea where my parents found this, but it's really great. Every kid needs a red rubber donkey, right? 

Thursday Poem

The opera last night reminded me of this poem. It's not really about opera, though. 

After Love

Jack Gilbert

 
He is watching the music with his eyes closed.
Hearing the piano like a man moving
through the woods thinking by feeling.
The orchestra up in the trees, the heart below,
step by step. The music hurrying sometimes,
but always returning to quiet, like the man
remembering and hoping. It is a thing in us,
mostly unnoticed. There is somehow a pleasure
in the loss. In the yearning. The pain
going this way and that. Never again.
Never bodied again. Again the never.
Slowly. No undergrowth. Almost leaving.
A humming beauty in the silence.
The having been. Having had. And the man
knowing all of him will come to the end.

A Night With My Imaginary Boyfriend

Tonight I get to hear my imaginary Russian boyfriend sing in the Met's "Live in HD" broadcast of La Traviata. I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure he is, too. 

It's been non-stop culture around here lately. I'll have to listen to this if I start feeling too fancy.

Tuesday Project Roundup: (Glacial) Progress

I was able to turn last week's fabric and pattern into a cut out pattern and a finished front! That's not a lot to show but it's progress!

The front is hanging oddly on the dress form because it's just a front. But maybe by next week it will have  a back attached.

Look Who's One!

The Smartest Baby in the World* is one years old today! He had a big party Saturday afternoon to celebrate.  There were cupcakes:

 

There were so! many! colors! on the gift bags:

And there was the toy piano to try out: 

It's incredible to think that in 36 weeks you can grow a brand new human, and that in 52 more you can go from this: 

To this (yes, he's walking):

Happy birthday, Skyler!

*Totally un-biased auntie opinion.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. This weekend, I have tickets to the Utah Symphony for the first time in a couple of years. (I used to be there nearly every week back in the days of student tickets.) I hear good things about the orchestra under the new music director.

2. I also have Skyler's first birthday party to attend on Saturday afternoon. I bought him a toy piano, since aunties get to force their interests on their nephews.

 

My brother is going to love hearing "PLINK PLONK PLINKPLINK" all day, every day. 

Just Once

Just once in my life, I'd like to be able to tell off a client and hold out for my idea the way Don Draper does in this clip that isn't allowing me to embed it. 

That is all.

Goose On The Roof

Toby saw something on the roof the other morning, and I assumed it was one of the pigeons that help themselves to the seed in the flat feeder and drive him bonkers. 

No, it was a goose, just hanging out on the roof, driving Toby extra bonkers. He'd never seen such a big bird!

Tuesday Project Roundup: There Are No Sewing Machines In Campgrounds

Way back before the extravaganza that is April (Regular Easter! Greek Easter! Mom's birthday! Camping! And Skyler's birthday coming up!), I decided on my next project. I even got the pattern ready and did a quick test sew of the body to check the fit before I cut into my fancy Liberty fabric. 

Nothing has happened since then, though. But something could happen Saturday morning before Skyler's party. I'll let you know.

Camping!

For the weekend, I went and slept in a tent for the first time in about five years. The trip was to Capitol Reef, where I'd never been, and that is some lovely country.

There were pictures taken from passenger windows: 

There were pictures taken from the back:

There were side canyons:

There were views to admire:

There were trails that turned out much longer than we thought they'd be: 

There were miles to go before we slept: 

There was golden desert light:

Needless to say, it was a good weekend for my inner hippie.

Friday Unrelated Information

1. This Married to the Sea post has inspired a catchphrase between me and my friend: "Don't be the lefterly cow".
(click image to enlarge)

2. And the last line of this entry in the "Shit Certain Social Groups Say" video meme has become my new catchphrase:

NAMASTE!

Today's Thought

I guess this is five thoughts, really:


Via Pinterest.

Grammar Wednesday #5

This one was another request (which makes me so happy): How can you tell when to use drink, drank, or drunk? Or sink, sank, or sunk?

Drink and sink are pretty easy, since they're in the present tense. (I'm pretty sure nobody gets confused about saying "Drink up!") But drank and drunk and sank and sunk are both past tense verbs, so how can you tell which one to use?

Drank and sank are simple past tense verbs: "The ship sank." "I drank too much last night." But drunk and sunk are a past participle, so they need a helping verb--no, don't tune out yet, that just means drunk and sunk always appear with a form of "have": "They have drunk my potion!" "The submarine has been sunk by the spies."

So here's my trick: Drunk and sunk have a U in them. Have has a V in it. U and V come right next to each other in the alphabet. S0 use that trick to remember that drunk and sunk should always appear with have.

Tuesday Project Roundup: Accessories

I made my mom a scarf for her birthday. She's really hard to buy for and making her something requires that she like it (it's a Mom Law), so it seemed like a good idea. Besides, accessories are a pretty flexible gift.

I used two-thirds of the Liberty prints from last week and followed this tutorial, just making the square a little smaller. There was a lot of hand sewing to finish but it went pretty quickly.

Weekend Report

Look who came to my house on Sunday to celebrate his grandma's birthday! This was the first time I'd hosted a family event in the new place.

"Reading" the card he "signed."

Party table!

Other notable weekend events: Going to Brooks Brothers and attending my first Greek Easter celebration. There was drinking. There was dancing. There was an entire lamb on a spit, head and all. (At the Greek Easter celebration, that is; not at Brooks Brothers.)

Friday Unrelated Information

1. My mom will be 64 this Sunday, so pre-emptive happy birthday! I know I posted this same video a few years ago for her, but it's extra-appropriate now that she is 64 and has a "grandchild on her knee":




2. I don't like eels, not one bit. But eel puns are almost OK:

Incredible

Here's a rough trailer for an upcoming documentary Alive Inside, about music and how it helps "awaken" people with memory loss. (Bonus Oliver Sacks!) Like my dog rescue video last week, this one starts off sad, but at least watch from about 3:00 - 4:00.



Incredible. If I ever decide I want to use my powers for good, maybe I should go into music therapy.

Happy Birthday Mark Strand

I still like your poem in the Gallivan Center downtown the best:

Visions of the end may secretly seduce
our thoughts like water sinking
into water, air drifting into air;
clouds may form, when least expected,
darkening the glass of self,
canceling resemblances to what we are.

Even here, while summer sunlight
falling through the golden
folds of afternoon
brightens up the air, we mark
our progress by how much
we leave behind. And yet,
this vanishing is burnished
by a slow, melodious light,
as if our passage here
were beautiful because
no turning back is possible.

It is our knowledge of the end
that speaks for us, that has us weave,
as slowly as we can, an elegy
to all our walks. It is our way
of bending to the world's will
and giving thanks.

Tuesday Project Roundup: "It Never Goes Bad."

My old roommate used to stockpile things like soap and laundry detergent and use the rationale of "it doesn't expire!". Similarly, I use that line to justify stockpiling fabric, even when I'm too busy to really sew.

Yes, this is more Liberty of London. It never goes bad!

Something To Ponder

(Via Pinterest. In my head, I hear this being read by Master Yoda.)

Friday Unrelated Information

1. Here's a fiesty (and profane) piece about the benefits of working in advertising if you're creative. The writer makes some good points:
You can try to make it with your band or be a novelist in your free time. But during the day, you may as well learn about how to work creatively with other people, and how to accept rejection and outright failure, even if you still think that Verizon catalog copy you wrote was a masterpiece.

2. Being Easter weekend, it's time for my annual religious experience: listening to Bach's St Matthew Passion.

3. It's also this guy's first Easter (and nearly his first birthday)! I had to resist buying him the bunny ears costume I saw at Target.

Because obviously he doesn't need ANY clothes to be cute!

Mary Frances On Going To Restaurants

From "D is for Dining Out," in An Alphabet for Gourmets, by my BFF Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher:

I had a happy beginning in [the] neglected art and much abused privilege [of dining out], one that has sheathed it in unfading pleasure for me when it is done well. When I was no more than five or so my father and mother would begin to prepare my spirits for Easter, or Christmas, or a birthday, and when the festival rolled around, there I would be, waiting to greet it...on the pink velvet seat of the region's best restaurant.

I admit I am prejudiced about it. I seldom dine out, and because of my early conditioning to the sweet illusion of permanent celebration, of "party" and festivity on every such occasion, I feel automatically that any invitation means sure excitement, that it will be an event, whether it brings me a rained-on hamburger in a drive-in or Chicken Jerusalem at Perino's. The trouble is, I'm afraid, that I expect people I dine with to feel the same muted but omnipresent delight that I feel.

Worthy Of Dr. Sagan

You guys. Phil Plait at the Bad Astronomy blog has outdone himself. He's describing a massive, massive infrared survey of the sky--over 150 billion pixels, showing a billion stars--and he does it really, really well (click through to see how he gives an idea of scale). But it's at the end of the post that he gets really Sagan-esque:

Think on this: there are a billion stars in that image alone, but that’s less than 1% of the total number of stars in our galaxy! As deep and broad as this amazing picture is, it’s a tiny slice of our local Universe.

And once again, we’ve reached the point where I’m out of words. Our puny brains, evolved to count the number of our fingers and toes, to grasp only what’s within reach, to picture only what we can immediately see — balk at these images.

But… we took them. Human beings looked up and wondered, looked around and observed, looked out and discovered. In our quest to seek ever more knowledge, we built the tools needed to make these pictures: the telescopes, the detectors, the computers. And all along, the power behind that magnificent work was our squishy pink brains.

A billion stars in one shot, thanks to a fleshy mass of collected neurons weighing a kilogram or so. The Universe is amazing, but so are we.

Tuesday Project Roundup: What I'm Knitting

Um, not this:

This was going to be a pair of striped legwarmers that used two different variegated yarns to created the effect of many colored stripes, something like this:
(Image from Google; knitters, you recognize this, right?)

But the colors were just not working. I pride myself on my sense of color and I'm usually really confident in it--but when I get it wrong, it is pretty spectacularly wrong.

Ah well, by the time I finished it wouldn't be legwarmer season anyway.

A Belated Toby-versary

I knew I was coming up on 4 years with the love of my life, but I'm ashamed to say that last night I realized I had missed the actual date (March 23rd). I can't feel too bad, though, because the love of my life also missed it (unless one of his highly varied and operatic "MEOW!!"s was meant to be a reminder).

Dates aside, happy anniversary to my friend, my "something to love," my entertainment. He meows, he chirps, he sings, he knows many, many words and phrases, he knows our routines, he lets me know when those routines are different ("MEOOOOOW!!"), and he pulls an endless variety of faces:

Wise.


Crazy.


Unconvinced, with a side of disapproval.


Wondering.


Helpful.


Approving, yet tired.


Darling.