Saturday Story Time: "Look Up High!"

It was my dad who taught me to look up. I remember sitting on the front porch with him on a summer night in Solvang. I must have only been eight years old. An inventor, he'd built himself a telescope through which he showed me Jupiter and some of its moons, as well as the craters on our own moon. He told me the Pleiades were also called the Seven Sisters and pointed out to me the different constellations. Then, as he took a drag off of his Pall Mall cigarette, he said something that I've never forgotten, something I hear every time I'm outside looking up at the stars:

"We're just sitting on a speck of dust spinning in space."

When Joel was a toddler and we lived with my parents, my dad taught him to look up. In fact, Dad said, "Look up high!" to Joel so much, he thought planes were called "Up Highs". When a plane would pass overhead, Joel would point up to the sky and say, "Uh-pie!"

I'm in the hammock as I write this, the Milky Way sparkling above me. A thousand crickets chirp, a Mozart piece is on my MP3 player and the connection I feel between heaven and earth and life is almost palpable. So much has happened in the fifteen years since Dad's passing. In that time I've buried half-a-dozen or more loved ones, but when I'm out under the stars I feel a profound connection with them and I remember that we are all just so much carbon--star dust--and that our imperative is to return to our source. I believe that the union we feel at that time is ecstatic in the truest sense of the word and that when my turn comes I'll send my surviving loved ones a simple thought:

"Do not mourn me for I am back where I belong.

Soon, you will join me and we shall dance through the galaxies.

Look up high!"

10 Things Real Estate Agents Must Get Sick of Hearing

I watch a bit of HGTV. Most of the shows bore me so I don't watch them, but I do like Househunters and Househunters International. Watching these shows I've come to realize that people are the same everywhere and that there are certain things home buyers always say, things that must drive real estate agents nuts.

1. "Well, this is my closet. Where's yours?" - This is always said by the woman to the man in the master bedroom, and she always thinks she's so funny and clever when she says it. Always.

2. "I love this window seat. It's a great place to curl up with a book." - Yeah. How many of these people have even cracked a book since getting out of college? I can't remember the last time I saw someone in a window seat, reading. And why do they think they're going to "curl up" there?

3. "Oh, this pet door will be great for ["Fluffy"] when he wants to go in and out." - Isn't this redundant? What else is a pet door used for? Why don't you say, "This front door will be great when we want to go in and out" while the agent is opening the lock box?

4. "I want granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances." - Most people want these because they're the current trend. I predict that in five years it'll be something else and that 15 years from now people will see these features and comment on how dated they are; much like they do now when they see the butcher block and black appliances of the 80s and 90s.

5. "I can see a hot tub sitting right there." - Perhaps, but more likely that space will become the parking place of your kids' battery-powered SUV.

6. "I don't know. I'm not crazy about the paint color/wallpaper/carpet." - Come on! You don't base buying a home on the color choices of the previous owners. See beyond that crap and get a flippin' imagination for crapsake.

7. "Does the furniture come with the house?" - This is always a joke and the answer is no.

8. "Look honey, a grill! I'll be out here every weekend!" - Yeah, right.

9. "This is where I'll put my widescreen." - No you won't. Your wife wants to actually use that fireplace.

10. "This can be our guest room/office." - Why do we guests always have to share our space with your stacks of file folders, moldy coffee cups and annoying screensavers?

A Mozart Opera by Salieri by Borge

In 1988 (I think) Frank asked me to attend a concert by the great Victor Borge at the OPACC in Ventura County. Frank was recovering from his open-heart surgery and was not able to attend, so as his assistant it was my job to fill in as his representative.

It was, naturally, a great performance and afterward I went backstage to convey my greetings and apologies for Frank. I stood outside Mr. Borge's dressing room for a while and thought it odd that there was no one backstage to greet him. Under my arm I held one of my journals --I never went anywhere without one so that I could make notes and jot down ideas.

When Mr. Borge emerged from his dressing room, I said, "Mr Borge! I'm your only fan!" He suddenly adopted a dejected slump and a clownishly sad frown covered his face. I then introduced myself and relayed Frank's message. Mr. Borge gave me a message to return to Frank and we spoke a little bit about the concert. He then grabbed my journal, opened it to the first blank page and signed it. He hugged me and we said our goodbyes.

Here is one of his most brilliant routines. If you don't like opera after watching this, then something is deeply wrong with you. Enjoy.

A Wild Night

I confess to being a weather nerd. I love watching the various special weather reports when something's going on, and this state affords me a lot of opportunities. Especially this time of year. Tonight was a wild one. Two huge storms blew through, with sheets of rain and 60-plus MPH winds.

On Saturday, a tornado touched down less than 20 miles north of here. That's about as close as I care to get. I prefer to watch them on television.

Oasis

Ah, now. This is much better. In my hammock working on my screenplay with Mark Tillman on the stereo and a cold Corona beside me.

Now this is restorative...

All Used Up

I have nothing left. I'm not only burned out from the past week, but from an entire life of abuses, caretaking, drama, and trauma. My health is bad, I've not accomplished the things I've worked for, and frankly, I'm not a bottomless well. I can't even be a cheerleader for myself right now, much less everyone else. I feel like a vending machine that no one has refilled, and that whenever someone comes to get something and finds it empty, they kick and pound it, forcing it to give up a supply it just doesn't have.

I've been a live-in, hands-on parent for nearly 40 years. I was a nurse and caretaker of my ill and dying parents (in their turn) for 13 years, and I'm just plain old tired. I have a beautiful, supportive and loving family and Nettl is the best partner in the world, but carrying my bag o' shyte isn't her job. We help and support each other, but sometimes that just isn't enough for either of us. Sometimes we need other family members to remember that we're just people with our own needs, disappointments, and frustrations, that we're not limitless founts of verve and enthusiasm. If I'm sometimes perceived as being uninterested, maybe I'm just exhausted. Do I not have the right to conserve what meager emotional resources I have left for myself? I'm only as good for everyone else as I am for myself, after all.

Right now, all I need is NO MORE INPUT. Don't ask me to show animated enthusiasm. Don't demand that I be your cheerleader. Don't expect me to get all caught up in your drama. The sooner I am able to sit back and recover, the sooner I will be there for you again. And I will be there. Just please have a little patience with me if I'm older, slower, and unable to carry as much, emotionally, as I used to do. It doesn't mean that the love I have has temporarily diminished; that never goes dry. But sometimes I need a hug, you know? Some show of affection, of gratitude, of interest for what I'm feeling.

Yeah. That would be nice.

Happy Anniversary to Us!

In my life I've made exactly two really smart decisions: One, I joined my life with Nettl's and two, I gave her complete control of the money.

On this day in 2001, Nettl and I were joined in a Holy Union service at College Hill Presbyterian Church by Rev. Radford Rader, in the presence of family and friends.

The only "bad" decision we made about that day was the actual date. We didn't realize that it was Memorial Day weekend and that in a few years we'd have a number of graduations to attend, all of which would deny us the ability to get away for the weekend. We have yet to really celebrate our anniversary like most couples; seems there's always someone or something else to do for.

The next step is to actually be recognized by our country as having been "created equal".

Happy Anniversary Lynette! Whether or not our commitment is recognized has no bearing on its validity and the immense love and dedication we have for each other.

I Am Dead

R.I.P.

Top Steph - Where Are the Judges?

Sorry I've been incommunicado this week, but I really am busy. Still, I thought that I'd share with you the menu I'm preparing for Heather's graduation party. Because she likes all things Anime, I decided on a mostly Asian theme. I promise I'll be back to Blogsville on Saturday.

Sushi Platter with Ginger & Wasabe
Fried Stuffed Wontons with Soy Scallion Dip
Champagne Shrimp wrapped with Snow Pea
Spicy Beef Lettuce Wraps
Teriyaki Chicken skewers on Bib Lettuce
Vegetable Platter with Creme Fraiche Dip:

• Snow Peas
• Sugar Snap Peas
• Seedless Cucumber
• Radish Medallions
• Scallions
• Asparagus Spears
• Celery
• Baby Corn

Caviar on Points with Dill infused Creme Fraiche
Rice Wafers with Cheese & Prosciutto Coil
Muskmelon & Watermelon Balls in Melon Bowl
Dried Apricots, Dried Candied Pineapple
Chocolate Sea Shells
Fortune Cookies

The Busiest Time of Every Year

Not much time to blog this week. Friday night is Heather's graduation and I'm really busy getting ready for her party. This involves both indoor and outdoor chores, plus, we have to get ready for Nathan's summer with us (he's coming on Friday as well) and Lauren's return from her year in Brittany (in a few short weeks). Lots to do!

Cats and Ladders

The weekend was all about gardening, decorating the patio, watching the two little swallows that have built their nest in a corner of it, and laughing at the cat who knows she can't get to them. Mostly, for me, it was about trying to get my lazy butt out of the hammock.

Yesterday I was up and down the ladder putting up a new strand of lights. There are things to do before Heather's graduation party this coming Friday night.

Last night I dreamed of cats and ladders, so I was really happy when I found this painting by Brazilian artist Marcio Melo called, appropriately enough, "Cats and Ladders".

Some People Should Not Be Thawed

MTV animation Beavis And Butthead is set to be the latest TV series to make it to the big screen. The show was broadcast on the network in the 1990s, and creator Mike Judge concedes he's now ready for a live-action revival.

He says, "For some reason, I used to hate the idea for years. Now, I think maybe there's something there." Judge adds at one point in the 1990s Johnny Depp wanted to play Beavis.

However, Sean William Scott and Jon Heder are rumored to be lined up to star as the MTV-loving pals in the new creation. I admit that they look enough like the Dumb Duo, but aren't Beavis & Butthead supposed to be 14?

As much as I love Mike Judge (his Office Space is one of the films I have to take with me if I ever get stranded on a desert island), I have a hard time imaging this new movie. All I can imagine is a Jackass film with a plot. The fact that Mike made a cameo appearance in Jackass Number Two, leaves me with even more trepidation.

Beavis & Butthead?

Hat tip to Jaquandor

Saturday Story Time: Your Turn

This time, I'm going to ask you a question and you can tell me the story.

Why do I always think of Marilyn Monroe when I eat a salami sandwich?

Now This is Cool

I love having books in the downstairs powder room. I think it's fun for guests. Some of the books that I've put there include a book about shoes (nothing but pictures of shoes through history), a book of dirty limericks, travel books, and a little book of Mozart trivia. Oh yeah, I really love trivia and really, really like etymology, so this book is sure to join my collection. Here's a sampling:

Boss
This word came from the Dutch word baas, meaning "master." But early americans didn’t like using master - it was too aristocratic to survive as a general term. So they started using "baas" in the late 18th century. It caught on (against the objections of some word snobs) and eventually became "boss."

Cubicle
Dating back to the 1400s, this word stemmed from the Latin cubiculum, meaning "sleeping area" (completely apropos). It became obsolete after the 16th century, but it was revived in the 19th century as a word for "dormitory sleeping compartments." Its use as any partitioned space didn’t surface until the 1920s.

Getting Fired
The phrase "fired out," meaning to throw out or eject someone from a place, was first used in 1871. When the "out" was dropped a few years later, the phrase was narrowed to mean "dismissal of an employee." There’s a consensus among etymologists that both "fired" and "fired out" refer to the firing of a gun.

Learning the Ropes
Before an old-time apprentice sailor could really help out on a big ship, he had to learn which ropes had what effect on which sails. Before he did, he wasn’t much use to anyone. After he "learned the ropes,"
he could finally hoist the right mast - and avoid being flogged.

Logging On
This phrase’s predecessor was "logging in" (sometimes still used interchangeably). Back when mainframe computer operators used to go on shifts, they’d have to write everything they did in a paper log, beginning when they arrived. So when you log on to a computer today, you’re signing in.

Memorandum
From the Latin word "to be remembered," it was originally a word written at the top of a note. But by 1542, it became the word for the note itself.

Rank and File
This phrase that refers to an organization’s mass of low-ranking peons has military origins: soldiers in formation marched side by side (rank) and one behind the other (file). Its first known usage was in 1598. Later, it became generalized to mean common soldiers and then further generalized to refer to common people.

Suit
The word dates back to the 1200s, to the funky English-French word siwte, referring to the uniform worn by the royal court’s stable servants. It came to mean a more general set of clothes to be worn together in the 14th century. As a derisive term for a businessman, it dates from 1979, possibly from the hippie term for an FBI agent, circa the late 1960s. The term "empty suit," meaning a person of small intellect or personality, evolved in the 1980s.

Teamwork
The original Middle English meaning of team was applied to a group of draft animals yoked together. Around 1828, someone thought of combining the word "team" with the word "work" - probably hoping to spur sluggish workers into action. So "teamwork" really mean working like one of many beasts of burden.Depressing, huh?

Check out their website here

And now, I'm going out to the patio to work.

From the WTF Files I give you Roger McMillian & Kieran Maye

Well, it seems that life in a small, respectable city in the buckle of the Bible Belt grants no guarantees. Of course, I've known all along that people are people regardless of where they set up shop and that those who think they have power never change their M.O.

Remember Oklahoma judge Donald Thompson, who got caught using a sexual device under his robes while hearing cases in the courtroom? Well, we have another winner, this time here in Stillwater.

Mayor Roger McMillian is being sued for sexual harassment by three of his employees at the Stillwater branch of The Bank, N.A., stating that he was guilty of creating a sexually-charged workplace and hostile work environment, and that “it was necessary for women to grant sexual favors to McMillian for professional advancement.”

In the court documents (which I have right here in my hands, thanks to Nettl, who brought them home from work -- yes, they're public documents) the plaintiffs’ allegations state that McMillian:

• Frequently permitted sexually-explicit emails to be sent to bank employees;
• Joked that he needed to put the EEOC phone number on the wall so that his employees could report his behavior;
• Would often describe the quality of female customers’ and applicants’ figures, using derogatory and sexually-explicit slurs and jokes. He would walk down to Executive Vice President and Chief Banking Officer Mike Stewart's office and say, "You need to go look at what is standing in the teller line";
• Placed his hand on a female employee’s thigh and said he was measuring how short her skirt was;
• Frequently encouraged employees to have a naked swimming party;
• Frequently joked with a female employee about exchanging sexual favors;
• Often, in officer's meetings, said, "I couldn't be happier except for Julia Roberts walking through my office naked -- and you know how happy that would make me";
• Made jokes about a female employee's "taco";
• Kept asking an employee more and more questions about her friend whom she called a "whore" as though he would be interested in being with her;
• Agreed to grant an employee a favor if she would wear a short skirt the next day;
• Stood at his office door holding a tennis ball. An employee had a customer in her office taking a loan application. McMillian made a comment about the employee "wanting his ball";
• Retained local attorney Kieran Maye to give sexual harassment seminars to the employees, after which Maye told the employees that if they ever thought about bringing a claim against The Bank, he would "be all over them like ugly on ape and would make their lives very uncomfortable." After the seminar, the employees were discussing how a person may "perceive" harassment. Maye and McMillian were making jokes about the training and were discussing that they would be able to do anything they wanted as long as it wasn't perceived wrong. McMillian stood up on a customer chair, danced and shook his backside at the employees and said, "So how do you perceive this?";
• Called the employees into his office and in a shouting voice threatened them that if they ever said anything about what was going on in the Stillwater branch to the main office, he would have their "fucking keys by the end of the day."

Besides being the Bank President, McMillan is a member of the Stillwater Industrial Foundation, Stillwater Frontier Rotary, First United Methodist Church Foundation, Stillwater Pioneer Athletic Hall of Fame, Oklahoma Association of Municipal Attorneys and the Payne County Bar Association. He is past chairman of the Stillwater Chamber of Commerce, and the First United Methodist Church Board of Trustees.

Here's what puzzles me:

• What are these men thinking? Do men in politics think they're immune?
• How the hell can a Hyper Wank Device that looks like an ear of corn prevent sexual harassment?

News Press article

Conceding to Defeat Isn't Easy

It's ironic that my last post was about blindness, because yesterday afternoon I got a last-minute call from Maestro Lawlor, who told me he was in a real bind and needed a page turner for the pianist who accompanies the Stillwater Chamber Singers. I wasn't feeling well (I haven't felt well in weeks), but seeing an opportunity to do something for him, I said that I'd be happy to do it.

About two minutes into the pre-concert rehearsal I knew that I was in deep doo-doo. I couldn't see the music with or without my glasses. The music was taxing and fast, the lighting was bad and I didn't know the music. I was sight-reading, which is hard to do if you can't see the music.

People give little heed to the lowly page turner. If you perform this task, you have to sit back out of the pianist's way, be invisible, read along, know when to stand and place your hand on the page so that he/she knows that you know where the hell they are, and turn the pages. That looks and sounds easy, but every pianist is different and every page is different. You have to intuit the precise second to turn that page. There are some times when they need to see the last measure and other times when they need to see the very. last. note on that page. I've turned pages many times. It's fun and I'm a fast sight-reader, but when you can't see the music, well, it complicates things.

I got through rehearsal, but there were two large pieces (one was a five-movement baritone solo with piano accompaniment and the other was a four-movement soprano and baritone duet with piano accompaniment) that we didn't even rehearse. Not really. I knew I was in trouble. And this is not one of those situations where you can "wing it" and push on through hoping no one will notice. The pianist, as well as the soloists, could crumble like a house of cards if I turned one page a second too soon, or too late. Panicked, I went to Mark and told him the problem. I felt like crap falling through at the 11th hour. Nettl turned through a short rehearsal of one of the large pieces, but she had a hard time seeing the music, too.

It turned out fine. The pianist decided to turn her own pages and no one was the wiser, but I felt like crap. I'm not someone who says, "I can't" and my pride and self esteem take a nose dive when I'm forced into doing so. And music! The first time I've been called on to do anything concert-wise since my days with Frank and I... couldn't. I was hurting pretty bad.

One time, Frank's daughter called upon me to turn pages for her in the orchestra pit, where she was principal cellist in a performance of Sondheim's "A Little Night Music". That was challenging not only because it was long, but because she didn't have her parts and we had to read from the full score. Also, the score was thick and didn't want to stay on the music stand. It was stressful, but we did it without incidence. Last night could have been the same, if I could only have seen the music.

Later, after Nettl was asleep and I was working on my screenplay, I had a breakthrough and finished the present time synopsis (the story takes place in both the 18th and 21st century, alternately). That made me feel better, but it was terrible knowing that the concert was better without me being part of it. That really hurt, especially when I've had to concede to defeat in several situations lately due to health issues.

Seeing is Believing

I love to learn new scientific reasons not to buy into old religious hype. Take the miracle of Jesus making the blind man see. Did you know that even if he had performed this act, the man still wouldn't see like we do? He'd still need a cane even if he had the benefits of modern surgery and eyewear.

The problem doesn't lay in Jesus healing the man's eyes, it's in the brain itself. Instead of laying his hands on the man's eyes, he would have had to lay them on his head because vision is more about the brain than the actual eyes. See?

Since infancy, our brain is constantly learning new shapes, dimensions and colors and putting those together with words. How do we know that a cup, for instance, is a cup? Our brain catalogs everything the eye sees that relate to the word, "cup" and stores that away for future reference. This is an integral part of our early life and if a person, say our friend the Blind Man, doesn't go through this in his childhood, he's not going to recognize anything.

I saw a special on telly a few weeks ago that demonstrated this, using a man who had been blind for 40 years. After undergoing stem cell surgery, all he saw was weird, blurry amorphous shapes. While walking outside, he still needed a cane because his brain had never learned how to discern distance and depth perception. His vision did not include spacial relationships. When coming upon a curb, he saw it as flat and had to teach himself to step up or down, as the case may be.

Michael May's sight is skewed. He can see things well, but he doesn't understand the language of the visual world. He has trouble recognizing objects and faces and things that take a lot of experience to make sense of.

"Taking off the bandages was a very new vista," May said. "First thing I saw was this whoosh of light and black and white instruments in the exam room and my wife." But even after seeing his wife's face, and his son's faces, May can't readily recognize them. Mike has the same experience with faces as some may have with distinguishing sheep. To him, human faces all look alike. Doctor Ione Fine has been tracking May's vision since the surgery. She says visual pathways in the brain withered from lack of use.

Three years after his surgery, May still walks like a blind man—relying on a cane rather than his eyes.

"If I was using my eyes for mobility, I'd have to be looking all the time: Is that a shadow? Is that a curb," he said. "And it would be so much hard work."

I found this fascinating. Jesus making the blind man see is one thing, but making his brain pick up on all that lost information and patterning would have been a real miracle.

Quoted text source

LOL Moms

Happy friggin' Mothers Day!

Saturday Story Time: Altered States

I don't remember if I was actually there or not (Ville can let us know when she visits here). That's the way it was in the mid-to-late 80s: I remember a great many things that I never actually experienced because my large circle of friends (La Boheme) had a lot of tales to tell from both the past and the then present. We were a colorful lot of young to youngish people who were dedicated to taking in all that life had to offer. In that regard, I experienced more of the 60s in the 80s than I actually did in the 60s. I confess, those lazy summers of 1986-89 saw a lot of boxed wine, cases of cheap beer, herbal ecstasy and pot. In one summer day I could easily go through two years of intense psychological therapy. No shit. It was a very healing time for all of us and because of that and the friendships that were set into stone, you'll never hear me expressing any PC regret over how I spent that short phase of my life. Do-gooders be damned!

Anyway, in those days, selected bedroom floors in Ventura, Oxnard, Camarillo, Santa Paula and Port Hueneme were always covered with sleeping friends and, being one large family, those nights were close and always full of laughter. One night (like I said, I can't remember if I was actually there or not) Cteve (1968-2001) had just fallen asleep on the floor and the rest of us/them were up partying, as usual. All of a sudden, he sat up and said, "Alpo", then lay back down and continued his sleep. From that night on, we've called that state between wakefulness and sleep, the "Alpo state". It's one of those you had to be there things, but because Wednesday is Cteve's birthday, I wanted to share it with you.

Happy Birthday Ctevenheimer, wherever you are!

One View Short of Paradise

The only thing that could possibly improve my present situation -- that is, lying in my hammock working on my clients' sites in 70-plus degree weather -- would be if the vista beyond my feet was the Gulf of Mexico or the South Pacific.

But who's complaining?

After several days and nights of thunderstorms, torrential rains and tornado warnings, it's nice to be outside again, listening to music mixed with the fountain and the chirping of the Martins who have built their nest (once again) under the eaves of the house next door. Sometimes they fly up under our patio to roost on the blades of the ceiling fan, which drives the cat nuts. There is a privacy fence between that house and ours and the birds like to sit there as well and tease the cat, who crouches beneath a patio chair just 8 feet away.

Well, back to work. I'm kind of wanting to change the look of this blog for the summer...

Out of the Blue

Suddenly, I'm swamped with web design work. Over the last two days I've worked for three different clients from 9 in the morning to 3 a.m. the next morning. Business lunch, emails, phone calls, and did I mention that I was also interviewed by Newsweek? Well, that wasn't related to web design, but it added to the soup. I didn't even have time to post an entry yesterday. But it's officially the weekend and I have plans for that hammock on our patio and the six-pack of beer in the fridge.

A New (to me) Book Meme

Hat tip to CJ Hill at Dustbury for this.

"What we have here is the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users. As in, they sit on the shelf to make you look smart or well-rounded. Bold the ones you've read, underline the ones you read for school, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish."

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi: a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran: a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian: a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible : a novel
1984
Angels & Demons
The Inferno (and Purgatory and Paradise)
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela's Ashes: a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People's History of the United States: 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-Five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake: a novel
Collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics: a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: an inquiry into values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity's Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood: a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

Are these really the least read books? Unbelievable!

Weird Dreams Redux

I'm back to having vivid dreams every night. Night before last it was something about a native American spirit guide and last night I was on stage with Arlo Guthrie and his touring group. I had a great time playing a 12-string guitar and singing, but I'd forgotten my guitar strap and all of my picks were too thin. After the concert, we went to a backyard pool party at Judy Collins' house. Joan Baez also was there.

Later, I dreamed that I was mountain climbing--and I mean sheer rock with crevices and ledges. There was a guide ahead of me, but at one place I saw her miss a ledge and fall. I was terrified. How was I going to get where I was going without her? When I looked over the ledge, however, I saw that she'd dropped on purpose and was standing on a ledge below me. She told me to follow another guide whom I'd not seen until then. While they spoke to each other, I made my way to where they were.

I found myself on a beach then and the tide was bringing in thousands of cut diamonds of all sizes and shapes. Some looked like those big teardrop crystals that are on chandeliers. I scooped some up in my hands and just marveled at how they sparkled in the sun.

For another cool dream, go see Earl.

Doc Tease

Why do doctors do the things they do? Why, when I saw my doctor last month, did she give me free samples of Celebrex for the deteriorating disks in my lower back, knowing that I can't afford a prescription? For a month I knew what it was like to be pain-free, and now it's back. This is blinding, chronic pain that I've had for nearly ten years.

What a cruel tease that was.

A Hammock of One's Own

Yesterday, Nettl and I spent the afternoon getting our patio set up for summer. The fountain was cleaned and filled, the floor was swept and washed and the chairs were cleaned. We want to get a cocktail table and a new BBQ/smoker. More flowers will be added and the new ones will flourish and grow. Our newest addition is this hammock, which was installed beside the jasmine that I planted last year and which survived the winter. I anticipate many pleasant hours ahead.

Flutes, Bells & Oh My God, Is That Girl Topless?!

Last night we attended a performance of Mozart's The Magic Flute in Tulsa. At curtain rise there was an audible gasp from the audience as we got our first glimpse of the stage. Set in the Amazon rain forest (it's usually set in Egypt or there abouts), it was as timely a location as the maestro could have wished. The stage was lush with green, verdant jungle, vines, mossy outcroppings, ancient trees, caves, and paths leading into humid, moonlit places beyond; even the lighting was dappled and mysterious. This is set designer Boyd Ostroff's Tulsa premier; he has not disappointed!

The costumes, designed by Richard St. Clair, were stunning and evocative of the Incan culture and the Queen of the Night, the "Star-Blazing Queen", wore a gown of deep indigo that was so covered in crystals that it threw prismatic lights and rainbows all around the theater, all the way up into the balcony, momentarily blinding each of the audience members as she sang her two stellar arias. As for her voice, I will say this: I never judge a Queen of the Night by how well she hits those high F-sharps, but by how well she executes the "Bach turn-arounds" that lead into them. Christine Tapia was a powerful and AWE-some Queen of the Night.

I was a little disappointed that Papageno and Papagena weren't dressed as the "bird people" they are, but that's a small thing when you're enchanted by the children who portrayed monkeys, deer, tigers, and even an alligator (the kid was having a great time slithering around the stage by lying on what must have been a skateboard-like device. Teen girls acted as the genies, or Three Spirits, hovering above the stage on invisible wires. Their voices were young and clear and carried the three-part harmonies beautifully. I also would have liked Papageno to be more in touch with the audience; this portrayal came off more oafish than lovable, I'm afraid.

The lines that make most people cringe were modified, which I was happy to note, because it was done in such a way that didn't eliminate them altogether; outmoded 18th-century ideas don't sit well, even in Oklahoma. For instance the Speaker's words,

"So a woman has beguiled you?
A woman does little, chatters a great deal."

were turned into

"So a woman deceived you?
That woman does little, but talks much."

and Monostatos' lines,

"But am to forswear love
because a black man is ugly?"

were improved by,

"But am I to forswear love
because I am low and ugly?"

Mozart didn't write the words, okay?

The best singers in the cast were, IMHO, Christine Steyer (Pamina) and Charles Temkey (Sarastro), who, due to his long, wavy hair and overall (har har) appearance reminded me of Jaquandor over at Byzantium's Shores, sans bib overalls!

He portrayed Sarastro just as I like him: fatherly, warm, wise and comforting, and as a youngish man rather than the mysterious, intimidating graybeard we usually see. His voice, though lacking power on the really low notes, was absolutely lyric and engaging. I just loved him.

Oddly, although the music was sung in the original Viennese German, the lines between the arias were spoken in English. Personally, I've always liked Flute in English. After all, when the original audiences saw it in 1791, they, not being aristocrats or imperial family members, heard it in their own plain vernacular. Still, I guess it made it easier for people not familiar with opera to understand the story. Whatever works!

I enjoyed this production so much that, if I could, I attend every performance. No lie.

Click here (Act I) and here (Act II) for pictures of the same sets and costumes in the Philadelphia performances.

Friday Happs

Tonight we're going to see Mozart's Die Zauberflöte in Tulsa. The Tulsa Opera is a great company. I've thoroughly enjoyed every production I've seen there, better, even, than other places, including the Met. It remembers that opera is supposed to be about enjoying opera, not about the elitist crap I've encountered elsewhere. You can hear clips from the performance here. Nettl and I are taking Heather with us as part of her graduation gift; hopefully, it will include a late dinner afterward. Tulsa could learn more about after-hours dining that doesn't offer only 24-hour family restaurants.

Last night we had a hell of a storm. They even issued a tornado warning, but as usually happens, today the sky is clear, the wind is gone and it's already getting warm.

Yesterday's trip to Guthrie to sell the Ford went okay, although I had to sit outside the garage for two hours waiting for the owner to show up. The note on his door said that he was on a tow job. I took highway 33 home, instead of the interstate, which was a beautiful drive.

Is it just me, or does that silhouette look like Alfred Hitchcock is starring as the Queen of the Night?

Simple Pleasures

There are few morning experiences better than that first cup of coffee. For me, this is only enhanced by taking my coffee in a smooth, white ceramic coffee bowl and saucer. I like the way the light reflects off of it and I like the feel of the cup between my lips. The coffee even tastes purer and cleaner somehow; the non-porous surface doesn't gather coffee essences like most mugs do. At least that how it seems.

Nettl and I went to Linens N' Things last night and found the cups I've always wanted, so we bought some. And now I'm going downstairs for a refill.