write good

Today’s post comes from tim

the suggestion that we sharpen up the pencil and write a blog by renae last week led me to think about writing untensils. i am a typist for the most part these days and the point of my finger has leaned to navigated the space allowed on the 4inch screen of an iphone as allowed in the world of steve jobs vision come true.

in a former life i wrote with pens and pencils. i still do on occasion and seldom think about the writing utensil in my hand but when i do i have an opinion.

remember the big black pencils in the 1st grade classroom? as big as a magic marker instead of a pencil. i wonder what the logic there was. give a little tiny hand a monster pencil to learn how to write? someone obviously thought it was a good idea. i graduated from the big black pencil in miss majeras’ first grade class to a fountain pen in the catholioc shcool i went to begining in second grade. there was a penmanship grade on our report cards and a portion of the week ( i dont think it was daily but it definately was a regular class) was dedicated to making sure we all did good when attempting to write a paper about our second grade observations on the world around us or penning stories about our understanding of the place of an 8 uear old in the universe.

the fountain pen was a magic implement. it made all ink it discharged seem important. a ballpoint pen was the way the rest of the world functioned in 1962 but at the nativity of the blessed virgin mary we were above all that. we needed to have our writing be special and so we used either a bottle of ink and an old fashion fountain pen with a bladder or as most in the class did we bought he shaffer pen with the little cartridges or we  could if we were rich do the wearever which was a fancy version with a better nib on the pen and a more flamboyant script was certainly bound to come out the tip.

i am a fan of the roller ball pen today but by today i mean 1970/80 technology. form what i can tell anything gel pen is the same thing today. the smooth writing that flows out of the tip of a rollerball/gelpen is a feeling i apprecaite.

my friend the organized former landscape architect likes a .05 not .07 lead pencil. always a quality point and always a good tool to write with.i never know where i put that darn little pack of lead inserts to keep it writin .   the old bic with the clear body and the bic blue top is a classic design that makes my jaw hurt looking at it remembering all the blue caps i have chewed on until the no longer went back on to cover the business part of the pen to keep it from blue spotting the pocket i am going to put it in.

my new cell phone has a feature that allows me to write either with a stylus on the screen or even with my fingertip. it is a feeling of being from the future to have the tip of yur finger be a writing utensil that works.

black pencil, yellow pencil, mechanical pencil, ball point pen, roller ball, fountain pen, keyboard, touchscreen, dictation pop ups on the screen that transform what i meant to what the spellchecker translator thought i said…

usually the way i get the meat of the idea i am trying to form onto a transferable  format is a non thought but as i have started using the franklin planner for my business notes and charting the day it find it is great to start journaling the day. the thoughts and ambitions of the day get lined up and forgotten unless there is a way of keeping track. so paper is good. i am sure the notes of my internet life will go unnoticed with me to the great beyond in the year i depart. no one will ever want to look at my emails and files other than the pictures and some of the special chosen few snippets of the deep and profound thoughts i have on occasion.

what makes you write good?

The Sound of Summer

Today’s post comes from Bill

Ever since our last presidential election, I’ve been taking the news in small measured doses and I’ve been wary of letting it just wash over me unless I am prepared. Consequently, instead of keeping my car radio tuned by default to the MPR news channel, I have an iPod, loaded with my choice of music and set up to shuffle through the selections whenever I drive anywhere.

Today, Robin and I were running a short errand together. The weather was sunny and warm with a light, fresh breeze. As we drove, the music selection that came up was a samba by Antonio Carlos Jobim, “The Girl From Ipanema” and I remarked to Robin that I have always considered Brazilian sambas the perfect evocation of summer– so warm, so languid. If Jobim doesn’t conjure up a hammock and a cool drink, I don’t know what does.

But maybe you know.

What music perfectly evokes summer for you?

Current Events

Today’s post comes from tim

i hate to send renee this blog to publish because it leaves her out.

i think it is time to begin a baboon calendar of events

https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/#inbox/15c7e444a543c953

a tour of the governors mansion is free fun and a launch point for an after the tour event at cafe latte or a walk on summmit avenue.

the saints are having a summer of fun we could do a meet up at.

the arboretum

the russian museum is a point that could be revisited.

david sedaris is coming up

what else can we add to the calendar of events and how can we do one that makes it possible to include renee, ben, steve, clyde, cynthia, chris, long lost krista, donna, joanne…jim and mig have gone away and dale is lurking only maybe. i don’t feel his oversight but i thought of it on the all night party night i saw the ad for that is eithre happening now or just happened. (my sleep is not ready for an allnighter this week.

what else you got?

The Harmonious Garden

Our church purchased an adjoining lot on the block this winter, and, after much talk, debate, and the usual dissention, a vote of the congregation gave the go ahead to create a contemplative garden on the new property. It is about 80×100 feet. The crumbling house on the lot was removed and the dirt compacted.

Husband and I were on the “Visioning Committee” that set up the parameters for the garden design with the help of an architectural firm that came up with a landscape plan that was approved by the church council.  It calls for a small worship space in the center of the garden. The worship space is located at the intersection of two, 8 feet wide concrete sidewalks that will form a cross.  There will be a meandering path around the perimeter of the lot, with a few round, concrete/paver  areas for benches scattered along the path.  There also will be raised beds for growing vegetable for the food pantry.

The lot looks atrocious now.

There are several stumps,  trees, and shrubs that need to be removed.  The ground needs to be prepared for the concrete work and grass areas.  The retaining wall around the edges needs to be fixed, and a handicapped ramp will be installed.

Our pastor asked me and Husband to be on the landscaping committee and choose the plants.  We agreed, especially since the other two members of the committee are guys who, in former lives, were professional landscapers.  They speak a language I don’t know, all about irrigation and how many yards of mulch we will need and how much crushed rock we will need for the meandering path, and the types and lengths of edgings. They want us to choose the plants and where the plants will go.

We need to find plants, trees, flowers,  and shrubs that are low maintainance, that will grow to the proper heights we need, provide color for as much of the summer as possible, and make it possible to walk the meandering path and feel a sense of peace and tranquility. Every time I look at the size of the lot I start to panic.  I have been reading a book called  The Harmonious Garden, by Catherine Ziegler which shows lovely examples of gardens all over the US, with different color and texture combinations.  Forget the New Testament. This book is my bible now!

How would you go about planning such a garden?

Alive Singing

Today’s post comes from Barbara in Rivertown

We were in the cities this past weekend for a family gathering, and managed to squeeze in the season’s last “Singing in the Light” event Sunday afternoon. This is led by my friend Barbara McAfee, a local singer/songwriter and voice coach. (She has given a couple of fun concerts with Claudia Schmidt, which a few baboons have attended.) It takes place in the Art Gallery (huge room) of the Hennepin Avenue United Methodist Church in Minneapolis, on maybe seven Sunday afternoons out of the school year.

I’ve written here  before about singing in song circles or community sings, which have been around in Minnesota in one form or another since WWI. The kind I am most familiar with involve song sheets or books, and requires a couple of people on guitar. While that’s very enjoyable, I’ve noticed that much of the time is spent looking at the lyrics we’re singing – we interact with people mainly at snack break.

The Oral Tradition, on the other hand, is singing without written music or lyrics to look at, and is done “a capella” – without accompanying instruments (Italian: “in chapel style”). The music is described as “songs, rounds, and chants from around the world — from the sublime to the ridiculous.” All ages, all abilities (don’t have to read music!), are invited.

It works like this:  someone (in this case Barbara) teaches us the parts via “call and response”, which we repeat, sampling them till we know it well enough to choose one. We move to that part of the room, then practice till we sort of know our part, and give it a whirl. After we get going we are invited to walk over to where they’re singing another part – heck, on some songs I was able to try out several – and move around the room. This goes on till everyone gets their part down well, and it sort of organically winds down or gets softer, and then that song’s done.

Meanwhile, all of a sudden there is this beautiful music, and we are making it. We are also looking at each other as we sing and walk around. It is the most satisfying kind of singing I have ever done, and sometimes brings me to tears. I wish everyone who loves to sing could get a chance to try it. I’ve never felt more alive while singing.

What is a regular activity of yours where there is eye contact with other people?

A Day in the Life

Today’s post comes from Ben.

Been spending a lot of time in the tractor lately and I’ve seen lot of stuff through the windows or out the door. 

A view from the (tractor) door—

We started to see mama deer and fawns crossing the road. And then I nearly ran over this one: 

That’s the front wheel of the tractor on the right; the rear wheel of the tractor is just a few feet away. He must be brand new as he didn’t move.

Now I know you’re not supposed to touch them, but he’s in my way. And the woods are about 10’ to the right; this was the first round on the field. So I gently picked him up and carried him over to the grass. At that point he stood up and stumbled into the woods. Good luck, Godspeed!

The next day, different field, 20 yards ahead of me, a baby jumped up out of the grass and ran away. Same one?

And the day after that, another field, and another baby jumped out of the grass and ran away.

We have way too many deer and they eat my crops and actually cause me financial loss… but the babies are so cute!

 

And then there’s this:

Pulled it out of the ground last fall with the chisel plow, but forgot about. It’s about 6’ the long way and 6” thick.

Remember when I said I thought the rocks enjoyed being ‘rescued’? Some are more trouble than others…

Mostly my views are clouds and fields:

 

What is a day in the life like for you?

The Voices In Our Heads

One of my tasks as a therapist is to help clients identify and manage the unhelpful, irrational, automatic thoughts that can lead to anxiety and depression. Some of these thoughts are easy to identify. Others play in our heads without our being really aware they are there. Even so, those thoughts are powerful and can lead to a lot of misery.

I am often beset with such thoughts myself, and they cause me lots of anxiety. I know exactly where they come from, too. My mother.  I picked up from her what I call “We are all going to die in the ditch” thoughts that nag at me with the worry that bad things are just around the corner, and you can never relax or trust that things won’t get worse.

My mom was justified in developing this mentality. Her life was a series of hopes that turned into disasters–she meets the young man will marry, and then the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor and he goes away and she doesn’t see him again until 1945. Once he is back and they finally get on their feet financially, their apartment is destroyed by a fire.  They start a family, and her appendix ruptures at seven months gestation and she loses the child and is in the hospital for months. She gets healthy again and develops MS.  After that, things went quite well for her and there were no more disasters, but the salience of those disasters stayed with her and left her assuming the worst and waiting for the next disaster to happen.  Her thoughts just oozed into my brain and it is quite a trick to combat them

I listen to the Broadway station on our car radio, and I heard two songs recently that made me realize that there are sources all around us for unhealthy and self-defeating  thoughts. I am using YouTube clips so as to avoid any rannygazoo with copyrights.  Listen to the lyrics and ponder the unhealthy messages.

Whose voices are in your head?  Whose voice would be more helpful?  

Glass City

I have been to Tacoma, Washington two times since early April, and I am amazed at the vibrant glass art community there. There is a Museum of Glass that has a wonderful collection of glass through the centuries, as well as an active glass furnace and workshop where you can see artisans blow glass.  Daughter and I went there in April.  I guess that Tacoma became a center for glass production in the early days as they had lots of saw mills, with lots of wood shavings and waste that could fire furnaces. They also had lots of sand, being on Puget sound.

Husband and I stayed at the Hotel Murano during the trip to Tacoma in May.  Everything, from the handles on the huge glass front doors to the walls of the elevators were in glass, and every floor had an exhibition of current glass artists and their works. They even had glass canoes hanging from the ceiling, a nice tribute to the local Native Americans.

The Museum of Glass is connected to the older part of downtown Tacoma by a bridge of glass. The bridge itself isn’t glass, but there are fantastical glass works displayed on the walk-way. The header photo was taken of works displayed along the walk-way. There also are  glass works piled on top of the walk-way that catch the sun as it shines on the bridge.  It is magical.  

I can’t imagine what would compel someone to decide to commit their life to glass art, but it must be fun.

What magical places and things have you seen?

Throw It on Dayton’s Wall and See If It Sticks

Today’s post comes from Northshorer.

The last time Sandy was in Dayton’s downtown, when it was still a Dayton’s, she looked up at a large photo mural on an upper floor and spotted herself in the photo. We were going to try to get there with our daughter and family to see it, but health issues prevented us before it closed. But a friend of hers took a photo of it and sent it to us.

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Sandy is walking beside her friend Maggie. I will leave it to you to find them, which is rather easy to do. The photo was taken in about 1953 when they were in junior high. It was a big adventure for them to ride the bus downtown from the Camden Park neighborhood where they lived. Would parents allow that today? Sandy can tell stories about having to deal with sexual predators of various degrees, so perhaps the age was no more innocent than today.

There was something about the downtown, whether in a major city or a small town.

What exactly was it about downtowns that is absent from our culture today?

Binge-Watcher

I’m not sure when I first realized there was a phrase “binge-watching”, and knowing me the phrase was probably around well before I came across it. I didn’t have Netflix at the time so never thought binge-watching applied to me. Then I started to think about it.

When I was in high-school, I inherited the small black and white family tv when my parents upgraded their set. Back then there was no cable, no Netflix – just channels 2,4,5,9 and 11, with only a couple of the stations broadcasting around the clock. During my junior year, the Bijou Theatre (beginning at 1 a.m.) showed all the Johnny Weismueller Tarzan movies in order, three a night for a week or so.  Every night that week, I set my alarm for 1 a.m. and watched them all.

Several years ago, after resisting Downton Abbey for a while, Steve (in Happy Valley) lent me Season 1 on DVD. Since other folks were waiting to borrow it as well, I watched the whole season over a weekend.  I have followed this by watching every succeeding season over a weekend, once the DVD comes to the library.

And if Hallmark Channel is showing Columbo or Perry Mason or Matlock back to back to back and I’m around, I’ll turn it on. So I suppose the seed was always there.

But I have to say that Netflix has brought a whole new meaning to the phrase binge-watch.  I have noticed that I’m pretty obsessive about watching shows in order, and only one series at a time until I’m done, then on to the next. Murdoch Mysteries, The Crown, Doc Martin, Raiders of the Lost Art, Midsomer Murders (why do all those folks go wandering around in the middle of the night in the dark?) and, of course, every series about castles, country homes and British villages. I don’t think I don’t actually watch any more tv  than I used to, but now I spend a lot less time looking through the tv guide to see what’s palatable!

What will you admit to binge-watching?