but look at the pretty flowers

My office project continues, what seems ad infinitum. I want it to be done sooner, at the same time my motivation flags. I guess I should stop futzing around in the blogosphere and get back to work so it can be done with once and for all. I should have taken "before" pictures, but I'll probably post "after" pictures anyway. Until then, some more celluloid Spring.

climb up my rainbow

Another beautiful day, another lunch with a friend, and a new twist on playing. Ted only had to work three hours this morning. We scheduled a last minute brunch with our friend, Sarah, whose friend from Atlanta was in town for a long weekend. When they headed out for the airport, we headed to White Plains, New York to go to the Container Store in search of a 48" airtight box in which to store a sword collection (it's a long story). We didn't find it, but we did find a few other things, making up for what I didn't spend at Christmas Tree Shoppe yesterday. We then headed up the Merritt Parkway back to Connecticut.

While enjoying the tree-lined drive, we were inspired to do something spontaneous that would, once again, allow us to enjoy the outdoors on such a wonderful day. I suggested the zoo, and Ted, once again, eagerly agreed. I have been to this zoo several times, as it is a regular activity any time a niece or nephew visits us. Any time I'd gone with the kids, however, Ted always had to work. So, he'd never been!

It turned out to be the perfect way to "do" the zoo! The weather was ideal -- warm with a light breeze, sunny with a few clouds. Every other time I'd gone, it was July and hot (or hotter). The crowds were perfect. That is to say, there were no crowds to speak of; only various Moms, Dads, and grandparents with children too young to be in school. We took our time, lingered looking at animals we particularly liked, read the information boards, and snapped some photos.

We saw boy peacocks in various states of showiness, startled into full plumage when a girl peacock ran noisily by. A California condor was walking in the old bald eagle enclosure (a seriously big bird). It's been a couple years since I was here. I wonder where the eagle went. Timber and red wolves. A family of Siberian tigers, with Papa in one enclosure, and Mama with two one-year old (basically full-size) cubs in the other. An Andean bear. A Canada lynx. Lots of turtles, piling up traffic jam style on a couple logs. Alligators sitting very still. Herons and wood ducks and egrets and all sorts of other birds flying around and preening in a walk-through aviary. River otters whose river wasn't running, so they frolicked in a water-filled basin at the top of the hill. A red fox. A white-tailed deer. You know, zoo residents.

In all, we were there for a little over two hours. I stopped at the gift store on the way out and procured a few more stocking stuffers. We got cold beverages from the vending machine before walking out the entrance just as they were closing it up for the day. It really worked out just right. We loaded ourselves back into the car, adding one more bag of goodies to the Container Store bag, and headed home. The fresh air, sunshine, and exercise conspired to lure us asleep. I napped so deeply (and for about 90 minutes) that I was a bit confused when Ted woke me up with dinner! He'd made chicken Parmesan and broccoli. Yum.

I'm really loving these great Spring days. Tomorrow, although we have plans for another trek (weather permitting), we do also have plans to actually do some projects, and will be working much of the day. But I'll have more pictures to post regardless.

~~~
Song: None, believe it or not. It's raining, and I love the sound of rain. So the music is off, and the window is open.

slide down my cellar door

After lunch with my friend, we lingered in the Olive Garden parking lot, extending our conversation so as to soak up the sun and admire the flowering apple trees. After a quick and fruitless jaunt to Christmas Tree Shoppe (a first -- I have never left that store without buying something), I trekked back home on this, the most beautiful day the year so far. Windows down, hair up, music on. The air's movement was too eager to be called a breeze, but not so zealous as to be frightening. The construction delays that frustrated me on the way to lunch were gone now that the afternoon was growing late. It was a glorious half hour of driving.

As I neared the house, I longed not to go inside. I called Ted and asked him to come out and play. He eagerly agreed. I stopped at the house to gather him in my happy Boom Box (which was spiffy and shined after a nice car wash yesterday), and off we went. We stopped at the post office to drop a letter, then wandered around town looking for nothing in particular, figuring we'd know it when we found it.

We ended up at a park on Long Island Sound that we've never entered in the 7½ years living here. Large, twisty sculptures punctuated the walk along the water. A girls' lacrosse team practiced on a fraction of the immense field across the lot from the shore. The walking path still bore the signs of the recent Nor'easter which, when combined with increased high tide, flooded much of the area. Seashell shrapnel co-mingled with pebbles, seaweed, and old dead leaves. Moss-filled clams were vertically embedded in the mud.

We walked for a bit, then sat on a bench to watch the ripples on the water and the variety of birds. There were seagulls, of course, but also swans, mallards, a singular and seemingly baby sandpiper, a singular and very tall crane, and a few unidentifiable birds floating on both air and water. I took some pictures. The rock island where four, five, or six of them had taken up residence slowly disappeared below an incoming tide. Not that it dissuaded the birds from perching there.

Ted and I talked about our day, our projects, our plans for the future. Then we'd walk some more and stop at another bench to enjoy a different angle, look at the waterfront houses, watch two crew boats and their coach practicing on the windy-topped waves, and wander out onto the thick, crunchy sand of a boat launch.

This occupied three hours of our time. Only a chill slight enough to make fingers shiver convinced us to head back home. What a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

~~~
Song: "Palo Santo" by Shearwater. Pretty music.
Other: Taking pictures with my fun-but-simplistic camera, on a day when every angle of life was picturesque, made me long for a better camera.

the end

Today is the last day of National Poetry Month. I have failed at any imagined attempt of writing some poetry myself this month. But I've quite enjoyed reading the daily poems that arrived to my inbox. And despite my inaction, it has motivated me at least subconsciously. I like this one from the 27th better than today's, so I'll include it as the capstone for this celebratory month.

Apples
by Grace Schulman

Rain hazes a street cart's
green umbrella but not its apples, heaped in paper cartons,
dry under cling film. The apple man,

who shirrs his mouth as though eating tart fruit,
exhibits four like racehorses at auction:
Blacktwig, Holland, Crimson King, Salome.

I tried one and its cold grain jolted memory:
a hill where meager apples fell so bruised
that locals wondered why we scooped them up,

my friend and I, in matching navy blazers.
One bite and I heard her laughter toll,
free as school's out, her face flushed in late sun.

I asked the apple merchant for another,
jaunty as Cezanne's still-life reds and yellows,
having more life than stillness, telling us,

uncut, unpeeled, they are not for the feast
but for themselves, and building strength to fly
at any moment, leap from a skewed bowl,

whirl in the air, and roll off a tilted table.
Fruit-stand vendor, master of Northern Spies,
let a loose apple teach me how to spin

at random, burn in light and rave in shadows.
Bring me a Winesap like the one Eve tasted,
savored and shared, and asked for more.

No fool, she knew that beauty strikes just once,
hard, never in comfort. For that bitter fruit,
tasting of earth and song, I'd risk exile.

The air is bland here. I would forfeit mist
for hail, put on a robe of dandelions,
and run out, broken, to weep and curse — for joy.

"Apples" from The Broken String by Grace Schulman.
Copyright © 2007 by Grace Schulman.

~~~
Song: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Patti Smith. I've only heard one other cover of this Nirvana song (by the Bad Plus), and both do it justice in their own unique ways. I really admire Ms. Smith's take on it, adding a "Deliverance"-reminiscent banjo and with a whole new section in the middle where she rants about everything that's wrong with the world.
Other: Busily piling through stuff...

some spring

Before I get too deep into (shudder) working, here's one of my photos. I love flowers, especially on trees. Yay, Spring!

podington bear

Extremely cool electronic music, performed by a mysterious bear, with new songs available free three times a week, through iTunes podcasts, and in low-cost collections. NPR (National Public Radio) introduced me to this artist, and I am instantly hooked. Go and listen for yourself. It's free, so what have you got to lose?

I have a busy day ahead of me. It's nearly a new month, and my calendar of projects is full to the brim with things to do. Plus, today I'm meeting a friend for lunch. So much to do, so little time.

Song: "Sunset Stroll into the Wood" by Podington Bear (natch)
Reading Material: Rafts of miscellaneous paper scooped from my desk to be organized.
Other: I'm too old to be operating on fewer than five hours' sleep.

no day feels like any day anymore

It took four weeks post-employment for life to start to blur. I thought it might happen sooner. After all, Ted works a non-traditional week, removing the structure of a standard weekend that might theoretically reinforce the calendar. Add to that the TiVo revolution (in which, no television show is actually watched on the day it aired), which might further widen the fuzziness.

In any event, it's Sunday, and to me, it's felt like Thursday all day. Ted's at work. I'm working on my home projects. Today, it's the start of a complete overhaul of our entire office, from paper clips and overstuffed bookcases to photographs and the new LaserJet printer. Actually, I started yesterday (it's going to take a while). I'm taking the trash out to the Dumpster on the way to pick up the mail. I have pasta primavera planned for dinner.

I've also begun scheduling all the other projects on a large paper calendar -- the kind that hangs on the wall with big empty boxes to write stuff onto each day. Alas, after a 4-week vacation, it's time to buckle down and accomplish a few things. So, enough pointless blogging for now. I have stuff to do!

UPDATE: Two things. First, I neglected to mention that I'd read the Sunday New York Times this morning. You know, an obvious sign that today is Sunday, not Thursday. Second, after this whole spiel, I still wrote in this blog that I was going outside to get the mail. And when I went to the mailbox, um, well... the mail isn't delivered on Sundays.

Song: "Heartbreaker" by Michael Jackson. OK, why do I feel defensive listening to Jacko? Scandals aside, I enjoy most of his music. This song is good, and an obvious inspiration to folks like Justin Timberlake.
Book: Um, I'm not reading a book at the moment. I bought two gossip rags at Costco the other day (People and Us). I haven't read them yet, either.
Other: Flowers and trees are blooming all over the place. I've taken some pictures, and will be taking more in the next week. Watch future posts for the inclusion of my exciting Spring photos.

forehead slap

Now I've gone and done it. Go to bed early, and what do I get? Awake before the freakin' crack of dawn. Even though daylight is starting to filter in now, it was nowhere to be found at 5:15am when, bleary-eyed, I bid 'good day' to my husband as he headed to work. I could have gone back to bed. I mean, really, I didn't actually go to bed until about 11:00pm last night, so allowing myself to sleep until 7:00am wouldn't have been unreasonable. But no.

So, now I'm awake and needing to start on projects. Here's a partial list:

• Closets/bureaus
• Kitchen cabinets/drawers
• China cabinets
• Bookcases
• CD racks
• DVD/VHS racks
• Art/photographs
• Desks/filing cabinets
• Games
• Shoe racks
• Old computer equipment
• Rolling storage carts
• Laundry room
• Garage storage racks

Those shows on TV, you know the ones where they remove every item from a room, redecorate the room, get rid of all the unnecessary clutter, and then end up with a beautiful new, organized and pretty room? It takes them a crew of 15 people two long days to do that.

I'm just one person, who will occasionally recruit one more (Ted). Although I'm not going to redecorate (paint, buy new furniture, etc.), I am going to put things together for Goodwill, eBay, Freecycle, a yard sale, and -- big, important one -- packing things for our eventual move. This is going to take a long time!

That means I'd best get started now. I'll blog later. Maybe it'll be another day like I used to have where I blog to rest between projects and end up with four or five or six posts in one day. Maybe you won't hear from me again until May. Anything is possible. I'm flaky. And I like it.

Song: "Nowhere Warm" by Kate Havnevik
Reading Material: Who has time to read with a project list like this?
Other: It's only been eight hours since I last blogged, and I spent six of that sleeping. Nothing "other" to report right now.

time clock of the heart

Although I got to bed at 3:00am last night (um, this morning) after a few too many hours of reading and ranting blog-style, I was wide awake for another 30 minutes -- desperately attempting to prevent my very persistent cat, Milo, from jumping on Ted's sleeping head. See what sleep deprivation can do to a person? That first sentence is a mess!

Anyway, he was determined to pounce, and I had to distract him until he gave up and either went to sleep or left the room. It was about 3:30pm when he curled up on my pillow in resignation.

I dragged my sorry butt up to feed the cats at about 8:00am, with Schmoo noisily (but still sweetly) reminding me that I was a couple hours late at the crunchy dish. I dragged my sorry butt back to bed, and didn't emerge again until noon.

Two very late nights and one extremely late morning (um, afternoon), and I've decided this is a habit I best not develop. It's just past 10:00pm now. Ted's going to bed because he has to get up at the freakin' crack of dawn for work, and so I'm going with him. Good night.

Song: "Lay Your Head Down" by Keren Ann
Reading Material: Still only reading stuff online
Other: Strawberry shortcake rocks, even if the whipped cream is fat-free and sugar-free.

shut up, kelly

Enough of my griping. Blogger Lauren introduced me to this Rob Paravonian skit, and it made me forget all my recent turmoil and discombobulation. Watch it. I dare you not to laugh.



Then, when you're done, check out Lauren's blog. She writes well, has a fascinating combination of life experiences, and takes the most beautiful photographs.

Song: "Diamond Ring" by Joseph Arthur & the Lonely Astronauts
Reading Material: Haven't read anything on paper today
Other: It's 70 degrees outside! The windows are open! Yay, Spring!

danger! danger!

Kelly's on a tear (so much so, that she's talking about herself in the third person).

For some reason, I've been staying up late the last couple nights, reading internet news sites and the occasional blog. Tonight, MSNBC offered up an article by Harriet Baskas on the challenge of flying when required to sit next to, in her words, a "seatmate of size." Actually, she was writing a follow-up to an original article, highlighting the particular harshness of comments it received from readers.

I started to read the comments from this article, and by the beginning of the fourth page (of 48 pages, as of now), I was drowning in invective. Because it's late and I'm feeling particularly punchy, I dashed off a too-long response, which I'll include in its entirety below. But before you have the chance to read my rant, you must first see some of the comments that drove me to type angry (which is probably not any better than typing drunk).

Hold on. Here goes.

Rpf5 writes, in part (over the course of three postings),

“… Short of those with medical conditions, I'm getting rather tired of hearing excuses for blatantly obese people. Put down the fork, get your duff off the couch and start moving. … Get over it and get over YOURSELF. Short of medical issues, the rest is just an excuse. … Why do we insist on making allowances and excuses for those with the ‘problem?’ America is becoming dumber AND fatter, because we've allowed it to happen. We've absolved ourselves of all personal responsibility and expect the rest of society to put up with it.”

Kelly's response: Don't be shy, Rpf5. Tell us how you really feel. By the way, are you not tired of the excuses for subtly obese people? Oh, and is America dumber because it's fatter? That must be the case, eh?

Notafan writes,

“… I have noticed over the last 10 years that America just keeps getting fatter and fatter. I have zero sympathy for obese travelers who spill into my seat. I eat healthy, work out regularly and fit easily into a coach airplane seat. … The same thing goes for movies, concerts, sporting events or shows. If you are too fat to fit in one seat then buy two. I paid for my seat. I work hard at staying in shape so that I can fit into my seat. If you chose not to stay fit, and allow yourself to9 [sic] become obese, shame on you. It should not be my problem.”

Kelly's response: You're an observant one, Notafan: I'm sure nobody else has paid attention to the daily news stories that scream about the ever-increasing girth of American asses. Oh, and thanks for thinking that the arbitrary size of any given public seat should dictate whether or not a person can enjoy any sort of entertainment, cultural experiences, or travel. Why didn't I think of that before I decided to live my life like a regular person? Oh, and congratulations on living a life above reproach -- man, that must feel good.

Dw839839 writes (in whole),

“I'm sorry, but if you are too oversized to fit in the seat that you purchased, purchase a larger seat in business class or first class, or find alternate transportation (Amtrtak [sic] has wider seats). I think we make far too many excuses for those who are overweight.”

Kelly's response: That's right, dw939839. All us fat folks can afford to pay 5 - 10 times as much for a first class seat, or can take 15 - 20 times as long to go somewhere (seriously? the train versus a plane?). And when you have the chance, please give me a list of all those excuses that are being made for me. To date, I've only ever heard three (I eat too much, I am inactive, and/or I have a medical condition that causes me to get fat but even then I should figure out how to control it).

Cmpizz writes,

“Being overweight, for 99% of people is a choice they made. Why should the airlines make seats bigger? Then all of us, including those of us who stay fit (and staying fit is not easy either), must pay more to fly. This really doesn't seem fair. … Also, why all the euphamisms [sic]? Seat mate of size? Please. Maybe it will help motivate people to stay in shape if we call it what it is. Fat."

Kelly's response: Cmpizz, you're right! I actively made a decision to be openly mocked and ridiculed for my entire life! Obviously, all fat people are bad and apparently incapable of making a simple, smart choice. And shaming us (a tactic that has never been used before) will surely set us all on a course to thinness. You're right and smart and our savior. All hail Cmpizz!

Vkt7 spits, er, writes (in whole),

“I am so tired of bearing the burdeon [sic] of obese people. Not only are our airline seats taken over by ripples of pudge, but our tax dollars are going to be spent on the healthcare and programs for people that can't just put down the butterfinger. I am outraged that obese people would have the audacity to even allow themselves to "fall" into our seats, but they also seem to hog store aisles in thier [sic] Rascals that they use because they are too big to walk through Target or other stores and I am outraged at an article that I read regarding how airline ticket costs have gone up more because of passenger weight in the last several years. A study was done that said that because of obesity in America, airlines now use more fuel to get to the same destination than they did 15 years ago. (Things such as luggage weight and the increase cost of fuel were taken into consideration in this study.) Guess who gets screwed with fat people being on a plane....my pocket book. Lose some weight! Put the Butterfinger down and go for a walk. I just don't understand the lack of pride and then the audacity to make someone else uncomfortable because of your love for Hostess and Taco Bell."

Kelly's response: Wow, Vkt7, which advertising firm do you work for, and how much did you get paid to drop all those names? Well, whatever the case is, you're right. All I eat is Butterfingers, Hostess, and Taco Bell. I don't walk at all. Anyone who uses a scooter does so simply out of laziness (not possibly out of mobility problems and/or pain). By the way, you haven't borne any of MY burden. So, does that mean I can give you some? How about having to listen to misinformed, bigoted cry babies bitch and moan incessantly?

That was just a sampling from the first page and a half. These people are seriously mad at us fat folks. Well, you know what? After a while, this fat woman (that'd be me) gets seriously mad at being stereotyped and falsely accused. Hence, my slightly ineloquent and particularly rambling response:

Holy crap, people. I could only make it through four pages of comments when I stopped. I couldn't take any more of the unbridled venom against fat people.

I'd like to point out a few truths that you might not realize are, in fact, true.

1. It is possible to be simultaneously fat AND healthy. The diet industry doesn't want you to know that because they wouldn't make $50 billion per year (in the U.S. alone) if you did.

2. It's quite possible that you aren't able to accept that fact because it would remove the convenient excuse you have to feel justified in making fun of people (which, coincidentally, is a great way to make yourself feel better).

3. You are not the only person who pays taxes into the system that covers medical issues (we fat people pay in, too).

4. Thin people can be (and many are) unhealthy, too. Just because someone is thin doesn't mean they eat well and exercise. Some of the sickest people I know are thin. The difference is that you think they didn't CAUSE their illness, where any time any fat person gets sick at all, it is his/her FAULT.

5. My size is not my fault. Nor is it the "fault" of some medical issue (I have none, thank you very much). I am just a very large person. A dead ringer for my great grandmother (who lived to the ripe old age of 94, by the way). Just because I'm fat doesn't mean that something is wrong with me.

6. For those of you who think that we fat people are being coddled and catered to, wake up and listen to yourselves. We are subjected to blatant bigotry and discrimination -- not to mention outright rudeness -- on a daily basis. Those of us who are happy and successful (and trust me, there are more of us than you could possibly imagine) have had to learn to ignore the slings and arrows, and persevere when the world is telling us how terrible we are. Trust me, nobody has EVER proactively accommodated me on the basis of my size. And I'd appreciate it if you would stop suggesting that more impediments be put in place to eliminate any possibility of accommodation.

7. This list could go on for ages, but it's all pretty pointless. My miniature rant on a little chat board can't begin to make a dent of any noticeable impact when the diet industry has literally spent trillions of dollars in my lifetime brainwashing people to believe that [A] fat is unhealthy, [B] fat is always wrong, [C] fat must always be fixed, [D] fat people are doing it to themselves, [E] genetic or medical causes of fat are rare, and most importantly [F] fat people can't possibly be happy with themselves, healthy, successful, and unconcerned with the lunatic ravings of people who know nothing about them.

So after all that, maybe it's time to start thinking about SOLUTIONS to the public seating issue, instead of just pointing fingers at fat people and screaming that we should lose weight. Bench seating with movable armrests, anyone? If it were so easy to lose weight, trust me, there'd be very few of us fat folks around. We don't like being the object of your loathing any more than you like sitting next to us on a plane.

I learned in my Statistics class that, in any given group, those who are "normal" or "average" make up approximately 65% of the total (below normal is about 20% and above normal is about 15%). As the media so gleefully reminds us every day, two of every three Americans are either overweight or obese. That's 66% of the population. Get used to it, people -- fat is the new normal.

That's all she wrote. This time. Oh, but one bright spot in the comments, on Page 48 just before my tirade. HANG THEM wrote,

"Funny the airlines over the years have made the seats smaller and smaller each 'refiting' [sic] and now encourage others to blame each other for the tight spaces. And like idiots we comply with their blantant attempt of extorting more money out of all of us instead of demanding they service their customers."

Kelly's response: Funny, indeed.

I'm sure there'll be more in the never-ending fight to simply live my life. Good @#(*$& night.

keyword search

The majority of visitors who have viewed my blog today arrived by way of a search for some variation of these words:

* Blake
* wipes / dries
* LaKisha's
* tears

Ted thought I was silly when I noticed, but clearly I wasn't the only one. I even found a picture. So, for those who are looking for juicy details, you won't find any here. Just the picture.