September 2019

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Sep. 15th, 2019

I wanna burn all the cities to the ground

Not really, of course - I love cities with the fervor of a bluestocking who grew up in a county without a public library. That said, I have belatedly come across Emma Stone's lip-sync of Blues Traveler's "Hook" (starts at 1:55 in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLBSoC_2IY8) and, yeah. (And her take on "All I Do Is Win" starts at 5:40.)

I've been binge-watching Lip Sync Battle clips. The gateway was Tom Holland's Umbrella. Other favorites:

The Rock: Shake It Off
The reactions to Matt Iseman channeling Cher (1:42)
Julianne Hough: I Just Had Sex
Taye Diggs: Let Me Love You
Big Bird: I Gotta Feeling (I don't even like that song...)
Lupita Nyong'o: Bailando

Part of the fun has been finding out the names/performers of songs I first encountered at the Y, including Booty, Low, Fireball, Gasolina, and "M.I.L.F. $" (and it is also funny that some of the raunchiest songs I know are being taught by unapologetically devout Christian women. They are good teachers, and I am more than a little torn about one of the classes being in conflict with English country dancing).

Speaking of Not Really Safe for Work content, I dove into Deadspin's "Why Your Team Sucks: 2019 Tennessee Titans" this afternoon. The Titans were leading 17-13 in the 4th quarter when I opened the tab ... and ended up losing 19-17. Ooof. I love my city, but some of the vicious jabs directed at it are called for. (I'm nodding especially at "full of racists feigning as libertarians." The language of my tweeps turned a particularly vehement shade of blue on Friday when our new mayor-elect declared that "Nashville cannot and will not be a Sanctuary City.")

Also, Deadspin gives every team in the NFL the treatment. I am looking forward to pairing some of the others with a bourbon or beer some other rest day. (These days I seem to be most invested in are the Titans, the Eagles, and the Bears, in that order. Then there's the teams-friends-care-about-that-aren't-the-Patriots-or-Steelers-or-Packers tier, featuring the Lions, the Saints, the Panthers, the Browns, and the Vikings. Then there's the teams-I-may-add-to-this-list-even-if-they're-the-Patriots-Steelers-or-Packers corner, where I'll be paying attention to whomever has the cojones to hire Ryan Russell or Kaep.

Before returning Good Trouble: Lessons from the Civil Rights Playbook to the library, I snapped some hasty last-night shots to share with y'all bit by bit over the next few weeks. (The link will take you to the publisher's page, which contains a better-quality sample of the artwork.) The author is donating all proceeds to The Center for Popular Democracy.

Today's glimpse:


"...if you wonder what you would've done if you were alive during the civil rights movement, remember one thing: YOU ARE."

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/157871.html.

I wanna burn all the cities to the ground

Not really, of course - I love cities with the fervor of a bluestocking who grew up in a county without a public library. That said, I have belatedly come across Emma Stone's lip-sync of Blues Traveler's "Hook" (starts at 1:55 in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLBSoC_2IY8) and, yeah. (And her take on "All I Do Is Win" starts at 5:40.)

I've been binge-watching Lip Sync Battle clips. The gateway was Tom Holland's Umbrella. Other favorites:

The Rock: Shake It Off
The reactions to Matt Iseman channeling Cher (1:42)
Julianne Hough: I Just Had Sex
Taye Diggs: Let Me Love You
Big Bird: I Gotta Feeling (I don't even like that song...)
Lupita Nyong'o: Bailando

Part of the fun has been finding out the names/performers of songs I first encountered at the Y, including Booty, Low, and "M.I.L.F. $" (and it is also funny that some of the raunchiest songs I know are being taught by unapologetically devout Christian women. They are good teachers, and I am more than a little torn about one of the classes being in conflict with English country dancing).

Speaking of Not Really Safe for Work content, I dove into Deadspin's "Why Your Team Sucks: 2019 Tennessee Titans" this afternoon. The Titans were leading 17-13 in the 4th quarter when I opened the tab ... and ended up losing 19-17. Ooof. I love my city, but some of the vicious jabs directed at it are called for. (I'm nodding especially at "full of racists feigning as libertarians." The language of my tweeps turned a particularly vehement shade of blue on Friday when our new mayor-elect declared that "Nashville cannot and will not be a Sanctuary City.")

Also, Deadspin gives every team in the NFL the treatment. I am looking forward to pairing some of the others with a bourbon or beer some other rest day. (These days I seem to be most invested in are the Titans, the Eagles, and the Bears, in that order. Then there's the teams-friends-care-about-that-aren't-the-Patriots-or-Steelers-or-Packers tier, featuring the Lions, the Saints, the Panthers, the Browns, and the Vikings. Then there's the teams-I-may-add-to-this-list-even-if-they're-the-Patriots-Steelers-or-Packers corner, where I'll be paying attention to whomever has the cojones to hire Ryan Russell or Kaep.

Before returning Good Trouble: Lessons from the Civil Rights Playbook to the library, I snapped some hasty last-night shots to share with y'all bit by bit over the next few weeks. (The link will take you to the publisher's page, which contains a better-quality sample of the artwork.) The author is donating all proceeds to The Center for Popular Democracy.

Today's glimpse:


"...if you wonder what you would've done if you were alive during the civil rights movement, remember one thing: YOU ARE."

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/157871.html.

Sep. 11th, 2019

Taking the shield of faith

Since last night, I've been living with the urge to howl holy hell at North Carolina.

What has helped: cranking up the volume on my car stereo and singing along as it plays "Stand" over and over. (That chorus!)

The Nashville Public Library is ordering copies of Good Trouble for its collection.

Team Tug of Warhol (War-HAUL!) was not victorious, but we were valiant, and apparently provided a good deal of entertainment for our colleagues back at the ranch via Facebook Live (as well as those who joined us at the park, where it was 91 freaking F at noon).

It's been an intense day. I dreamt at length about my late honorary mama and her family last night. I was up at 6:30 a.m. for an early meeting. A training session for our upcoming Native Women Artists exhibition included a viewing of The Indian Problem, which -- god _____, Tennessee. Gdi, North Carolina. I followed church class with ten minutes on the erg at the Y. I'm looking at the Road Scholar catalogue that just arrived -- Honorary Mama had suggested doing one of their trips together, and while that never happened, there's at least one that another honorary relative might be up for.

But first, bath and bed. And reinforcing that figurative breastplate.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/157603.html.

Sep. 7th, 2019

"I have not seen a polar bear twerk before."

Today's subject line is from the emcee of the drummers' dance-off during today's dragon boat festival, when the Coca-Cola team mascot got down. Supergirl (a gorgeous African American woman in red stiletto knee-high boots, who was later seen catching footballs in them) and Animal also showed up.

My team finished first in its first heat (1:21.571), which put us at 12th overall. I ended up pinch-paddling for another team (Nashville Veterinary Specialists), sitting in the last row on the left side (exactly opposite to my position in the TSRA boat) ... and ended up sliding off my seat halfway through the race when I leaned forward an notch too far. Despite that mishap, and the team being a hodgepodge to begin with (at least 6 of us were from other teams), that boat finished in 1:21.995, putting it in 13th overall even though it was 4th (= last) in its heat.

Dragon Boat results
Vanderbilt failed to show up, hence their time of 5:55 (assigned to 3 teams out of the 35).

During the second round, TSRA finished 3rd out of 4, with a time of 1:23.494, which had us in 6th place after 4 heats. (The app has failed to update since then, and some of the more competitive teams were in later heats.) Most of the team members had hoped and assumed that we would finish no better than 13th (apparently the top 12 and worst 4 still on site compete in a final round; something something football, and how Southern is that?), and they were gone by the time I returned from the marshaling area. (I had planned on helping the vets again, but they didn't show up for their scheduled heat, so I shrugged at the volunteers, who shrugged back; one loped off to inform the announcer, and I ambled over to the spectators' area. Apparently the vets sorted themselves out in time to compete 2 or 3 heats later, and there wasn't another call for help, so I bid farewell to the two other TSRA rowers still there and headed to Bates Nursery (today was the last day to use a 50% discount, so my own "if I end up leaving by 3" plan was to go look at their hellebores and ferns. But it would've been nice to spend more time on the water, and if I do this again I will plan on staying closer to the staging area so that I can answer more calls for help. The neuroscientist in a tutu who bought lunch for me -- I'd given her a ride last night -- also did an extra race as well; it's apparently a recurring thing.)

Also enjoyed at the festival: matcha bubble tea and some fine tunes (I can't Umbrella like Tom Holland, but I was happy to hear it anyway. And also a nicely roughed-up mix of "Someone that I Used To Know"). I resisted the temptation of $5 t-shirts (hello, hellebore!). It was good to be outside. And now it's time to put in more time at the piano.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/157321.html.
Tags:

1, 2, 1, 2 ...

I was put in the right front of the dragon boat during practice tonight, and the coach emphasized that those of us in the first two rows needed to stay zen no matter what was being shouted at us, and that what might feel slow to us in the front would be impossible to keep up with in the back if we went too fast, because of how water works.

Oh, the metaphors to be expanded from that.

Last night, in a dream, I saw myself effortlessly doing splits in front of two co-workers. I've never successfully executed a split in my life. One doesn't need a psychology degree to unpack that one.

Work is providing solid entertainment on top of the crushing load. (I was at the office past 9 p.m. yesterday to meet today's deadlines.) During today's lunch break, a colleague plaintively asked what "Mercury in retrograde" meant, and twenty minutes later everyone at the table was discussing Chinese zodiac breakdowns (precipitated by me mentioning the anticolonial heft to a presentation about Eastern vs. Western zodiacs at a Philadelphia Museum of Art party last year, and then noting that I'm a metal dog).

More important, I am filled with glee at how our tug-of-war team for this Wednesday's tournament is coming together.

Last night, I could not settle down or focus after getting home, so I dove into Jackie Lau's Ultimate Pi Day Party and Ice Cream Lover. Props to whomever on Twitter recommended them to me, and props to my library for stocking them. Asian heroes! Bisexual and biracial heroine! Six-year-old foodies! Snark from sisters! Grandmas digging durian! (Can't stand the stuff myself, but the commentary is fab.)

Surprise gift from a friend. Notes from other friends. Scandalizing the BYM because I went grocery-shopping in a bikini. (I could not be arsed to put my work dress back on after practice, so to speak.) Doing laundry after midnight because of the leggings I want to wear tomorrow (keeping my right hip glued to the side of the boat = chafing). Getting one inbox below 500 unread. Plotting pies . . .

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/156989.html.

Sep. 5th, 2019

London speed it up, Houston rocket

[The subject line's from Beyoncé's "Countdown," which is alternating with "Belle qui tiens ma vie" as song-in-residence in my head at the moment.]

We have reached peak absent-mindedness here, y'all. I used my kitchen scale to weigh a pair of boots, and then put it on the rack the boots had been on instead of its customary shelf, and it then took me another half hour to figure out that that's what I'd done.

It wasn't a wasted half-hour -- plenty of chores can be churned through during such bouts of WTF -- but lord. And it was a good evening. I went from work to the first chamber choir rehearsal of the season, and then to the pool, where I had a wide lane to myself for the first half of my workout. The water was hot right away in the shower, both before and after. I cooked the defrosting pork before it went bad, and the slightly slimy mushrooms on sale didn't give me gut trouble, and they both went well with the tapioca noodles I'd boiled earlier this week (not noodley enough to serve to anyone else, but good enough for porridge). I wrote postcards to voters and paid some bills and ran a load of laundry. I'm doing some filing as I wind down with my second glass of Evolúció, a Hungarian white wine. I heard from several people I miss. The puniest of my cacti is still alive. And, hey, so am I.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/156803.html.

Sep. 3rd, 2019

"don't break all the machines now"

Today's subject line comes from the dude sassin' me as we crossed paths on my way to the Y.

I almost didn't go. I was on a roll with work, and it was tempting to crank through some more items on the list, and to get home earlier to other must-dos. But there are people I really enjoy moving and smiling with (like, watching them = instant energy), the instructor (Evelyn Wilson, aka "NFL diva" -- the happiest person in this city during the draft, in my circles) delivers "Majesty Moment" mini-sermons at the end of class that I do not mind in the slightest because they are authentically affirming ("Remember, you are royalty. You are kings and queens and you don't tear each other down, because there are plenty of people out there ready to do that. You help each other with your crowns and don't let anybody tell you you are less than"), and for the third week in a row we did "the Beyoncé warmup" (a medley of "Freedom," the Coachella "Drunk in Love/Swag Surfin/Diva" sequence, "Countdown," and maybe a couple more songs I'm not remembering), which I would happily do every session. So yay me for getting over there.

vine up rose branch

It's a good thing we don't keep a swear jar in this household, because it's but the third day of the month and it would be full already. In one instance, it was realizing that I'd neglected my roses for so long that sodding ivy had had sodding time to twine its way up a branch.

There are a lot of reasons I'm angry (at least 250 of them in DC, to begin with...). But the two surviving bushes are still doing their thang. There's even a bud this late in the summer:

rosebud

And, I pulled together another pie, this time with the aging bananas and nectarines (and crust that had been in the freezer for probably half a year):

peach-banana pie

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/156440.html.

tumblr post of the day

hot men + cute dogs = genre

https://copperbadge.tumblr.com/post/187467923104/biggest-gaudiest-patronuses-angrylampshade

(I mean, it's been like a decade since I last posted fic, but this sort of thing is what this journal was started for...)

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/418545.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

Aug. 31st, 2019

layers

On the one hand, AARP trying to recruit me before I turn 50? Goddamn...

On the other hand, the issue of O Magazine they sent with the latest pitch includes a page on quilter Bisa Butler, who "may spend 20 hours layering hundreds of silk pieces to creat eone hyperrealistic face." The lead image is of her Four Little Girls, September 15, 1963. And the feature ends with this:


Butler's fabric collection swallows her dining room, fills 22 bins in her basement, and contains material both donated (like her mother's hijabs) and purchased. "If I see something I like, I buy it," she says. "I found a print called 'Michelle Obama's shoes' that commemorated a trip to Africa by President Obama and the first lady, and I went HAM. I was like, Michelle Obama? I'll take it in all five colors."


This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/156167.html.

Aug. 30th, 2019

Heavens make a star of him

The subject line is spoken by Pericles in the Shakespeare play of the same name, upon hearing that his beloved father-in-law is dead.

Hearing it tonight, at the Nashville Shakespeare Festival, I immediately thought of David Bevington, my University of Chicago Shakespeare professor, who was for many years a familiar figure flying from his home on Blackstone to various classes, meals, and performances around campus. A renowned scholar, he was also a very gracious man who was unquestionably responsible for me getting offers from grad schools (several interviewers made a point of telling me his letter on my behalf was impressive -- this in spite of me not having earned a solid A in his courses) and also a dedicated violist.

Since hearing of his passing, I haven't been sad, exactly -- he was in his late 80s, and I had figured that I would be reading his obituary sooner than later, although he was also spry enough that I also wouldn't have been surprised if he had made it to 100. But the world does feel a distinct shade colder with him gone.

The performance of Pericles was by the apprentice company, and it was a mixed bag. Some of the singing was gorgeous, and much of it wasn't quite in tune. But I was entertained by other audience members' attempts to understand what the heck is going on in the play (it's such a mess -- I'm fond of it, but it is SUCH a mess), I finally got to try the vegan ice cream joint that's been getting rave reviews (Kokofetti and peach scoops, yo), and even though I know the play well, I nonetheless cried in reaction to a couple of peak moments. Nice to see graceful dancing by non-waifs, too. Oh, and as Shakespeare does, there was a standout moment that hadn't registered with me during previous performances/reads: this time it was the nurse telling Pericles to pull his damn self together because his kid needs him.

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/418066.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

Heavens make a star of him

The subject line is spoken by Pericles in the Shakespeare play of the same name, upon hearing that his beloved father-in-law is dead.

Hearing it tonight, at the Nashville Shakespeare Festival, I immediately thought of David Bevington, my University of Chicago Shakespeare professor, who was for many years a familiar figure flying from his home on Blackstone to various classes, meals, and performances around campus. A renowned scholar, he was also a very gracious man who was unquestionably responsible for me getting offers from grad schools (several interviewers made a point of telling me his letter on my behalf was impressive -- this in spite of me not having earned a solid A in his courses) and also a dedicated violist.

Since hearing of his passing, I haven't been sad, exactly -- he was in his late 80s, and I had figured that I would be reading his obituary sooner than later, although he was also spry enough that I also wouldn't have been surprised if he had made it to 100. But the world does feel a distinct shade colder with him gone.

The performance of Pericles was by the apprentice company, and it was a mixed bag. Some of the singing was gorgeous, and much of it wasn't quite in tune. But I was entertained by other audience members' attempts to understand what the heck is going on in the play (it's such a mess -- I'm fond of it, but it is SUCH a mess), I finally got to try the vegan ice cream joint that's been getting rave reviews (Kokofetti and peach scoops, yo), and even though I know the play well, I nonetheless cried in reaction to a couple of peak moments. Nice to see graceful dancing by non-waifs, too. Oh, and as Shakespeare does, there was a standout moment that hadn't registered with me during previous performances/reads: this time it was the nurse telling Pericles to pull his damn self together because his kid needs him.

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417982.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

Aug. 28th, 2019

"trees are chicken soup for cities"

Today's subject line comes from an interview of Michael Van Valkenburgh, a landscape designer who "never met a tree I didn't like." Also: "When a new garden is being constructed, Van Valkenburgh has been known to use his body as a tree" to figure out where things should go.

We've had some weather this month. Not every tree on my tree made it through:

split by lightning

My foot injury from about a year ago is doing its flare-uppity thing. Some days I can bop and bounce with the best; some days, tree pose is out of the question. Most days, I stretch and limp and lope and swear and slide and shimmy (and in heels, too) depending on the hour, the surface, and how long I've been seated or supine.

On an upside, a kind friend who is an herbalist gave me a salve containing frankincense that I've been applying to the affected heel during breaks at work, and my office consequently smells fantastic.

Some evenings, it doesn't matter what's (over)due or how devil-long the damn list of other damn things to make has become, it's time to half-ass together a nectarine tart (loosely based on Brooklyn Supper's riff on Florence Fabricant's instructions; the linked-to tutorial on browning butter is a keeper):

brown butter nectarine tart

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/156073.html.

Aug. 19th, 2019

baskets of intention

Today's subject line is prompted by a statement by Pomo Indian artist Susan Billy, whose baskets will appear at the Frist Art Museum this fall: “As the baskets got smaller, people asked me what I put in them, and I realized what I put in them is intention.”

I am raising money for the Cumberland River Compact as a member of the TSRA dragon boat team. No contribution too small! https://crc.kindful.com/dragon-boat-2019/peg-duthie.

Tonight the sky was dark when I got home from the gym. It is still very much summer -- at the Y, the instructors were pulling down shades to ameliorate some of the heat and glare -- and yet, staring at the stars and the silhouettes of treetops tonight, and now sipping on cider -- fall is but a handful of weeks away.

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/155822.html.

Aug. 17th, 2019

from a profile of Montreal rabbi Lisa Gruschcow


Her time in liberal New York, she said, emboldened her with a strong sense of acceptance. “You can’t go 10 city blocks in New York without running into a lesbian rabbi,” she said.



Rabbi Grushcow’s inclusive approach was apparent on a recent day when she went to offer condolences to a family in mourning. There were not enough people to say kaddish, the prayer for the dead, so the rabbi rang doorbells in the apartment building, looking for worshipers to join them.

According to Orthodox Jewish tradition, 10 men — known as a minyan — are needed to say the mourner’s prayer, and several older women apologized that their husbands weren’t home. When the rabbi invited the women to join the minyan, she recalled, several had tears in their eyes.

“They felt for the first time that they counted,” she said.


https://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/12/world/canada/rabbi-lisa-grushcow-montreal.html

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417686.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.
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Aug. 13th, 2019

"I'm in an anger / encouragement class."

Today's subject line comes from Kevin Young's "Lime Light Blues."

Current mood: if someone were to go after certain members of my state legislature with a horsewhip, I'd happily hold their coat. What a disgusting display of bad faith and blatant good ol' outright discrimination both in front of the cameras and behind the scenes.

Anyhow. I shall write thank-you notes to Sens. Sara Kyle and Katrina Robinson, and also Rev. Jay Hartley. Today I sat in the back row in church-lady mode (complete with hat and pearls). I had my Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice sign pinned to the brim of my hat, and when the sergeant told me it had to be no higher than chest level, I pinned it to my crochet bag and parked that bag on my knees. During one break, I had a lovely chat with a Methodist minister about the bedspreads we each are working on.

I thought about Mama Nancy a lot - she was a former president of Planned Parenthood - and, both days, deliberately wore a pair of earrings I'd bought in NC while on a road trip with her. I admit to being amused when a senior senator ordered the men in the room to take off their hats.

Also: postcards to voters and Americans of Conscience actions

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/155443.html.

Aug. 11th, 2019

cooking/food notes

Breakfast

pancakes - Joy of Cooking

bourbon-maple syrup (Private Selection)

eggs - scrambled (for the BYM)

eggs - over-easyish, on leftover white beans and cherry tomatoes with red onion dressing (adapted from Lidey Heuck's recipe [NYT] - I didn't have red wine vinegar or parsley, so I used balsamic vinegar and skipped the herb)

Gracenote Sumatra Tano Batak - I'd bought this coffee in Boston as a thank-you gift to a colleague. They were so blown away by it ("smoothest EVER") that they gave me some of the beans for my own household to try

Lunch

broccoli stir-fried with San-J gluten-free hoisin sauce (leftover from this year's Chinese New Year dinner, where my guests included a gluten-sensitive gent)

leftover roast chicken with leftover brown rice (in my case, mixed with leftover onion soup)

Dinner

Red lentil dal with aromatics - modified from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone based on what I had on hand

Flounder - roasted in oven with yellow tomatoes from yesterday's haul

Spinach - frozen, microwaved, mixed with sour cream and nutmeg and a dash of lime juice (because I didn't have lemon; epicurious recipe consulted for guidance)

Snack
Chocolate-covered frozen banana bites
(unsweetened Baker's bar with some sugar and allspice mixed in)

chocolate covered bananas

chocolate covered bananas

I should stress that I half-assed my way through this whole lineup -- especially the bananas -- with these factors in the mix:
(1) my sweetie arriving home a day earlier than I'd expected (this list would have been simpler and weirder had I been by myself)
(2) yay, my sweetie's home! I don't have to go anywhere today! (hence pancakes)
(3) using up things on hand, especially things past their best-by dates (chocolate) or beyond ripe (bananas, onion...)
(4) miles to go before I sleep (*glares at proofs and receipts*)

[These notes are both to talk back at the why-didn't-you monsters and to help Future Me out when she's trying to remember what worked today.]

chocolate covered bananas

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/155376.html.
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Aug. 10th, 2019

"All I want to do is sit on a veranda while / a hard rain falls around me."

Today's subject line is from Sandra Beasley's Vocation.

Tomato Art Fest 2019

Sampled at this year's Tomato Art Fest:

* Picker's vodka soda (grapefruit and tangerine)
* A chunk of orange-fleshed watermelon
* Walker's Bloody Mary mix
* Frozen hazelnut coffee beads
* Chocolate balsamic vinegar (at Galena Garlic on Fatherland, which I had driven past many times...)

Freebies accepted:
* A nylon fan-frisbee
* A trio of temp tattoos
* Some bottles of Sweet Baby Ray's sauces

Purchased:
* Three pints of cherry tomatoes

Some of the sights and wares seen:
* A toddler being pulled out of the doggie ice bath she had charged into.
* Paddle fans with a lawyer's face
* "Believe Women" merch with 50% of profits going to the ACLU
* A RBG paint-by-numbers kit. (I was amused by the concept, but found the actual design was unappealing.)
* Lots of doggies. Bulky Crossfit guy with tiny toy dog might have been my favorite sighting.

Today's cooking plans:
* cherry tomato + bean salad
* roast chicken
* chocolate-dipped banana slices

Most rewarding plant in my currently pitiful yard:

balloon flower

This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/155029.html.

Jun. 27th, 2019

three random things

Prompts from [personal profile] marginaliana:

scissors: Because I was moderately serious about bookbinding and other papercrafts around twenty years ago, I believe that slicing paper with a fresh Exacto blade against a metal edge typically results in a cleaner, straighter edge than cutting with scissors. But I hold even stronger opinions about getting on with things and getting them done rather than procrastinating in the name of perfection (aka "perfect is the enemy of done"), and also about staying within budget, and also about getting enough sleep when my hamster-wheel brain will let me, so my m.o. is far more often to reach for the nearest tool. Which is sometimes the pair of embroidery scissors I inherited from the BYM's Aunt Louise:

embroidery scissors

Said m.o. is also why you're not also getting a snapshot of the gray-handled ergonomic scissors I acquired from some rubber-stamping outfit in the mid-1990s. I don't think it was from the late Curtis Uyeda, from whom I ordered two Japan-inspired images that I will bring myself to mount and use someday. (Yes, I realize what I just said. I contain multitudes, y'all.)

ear: it has been a source of vexation throughout my life that I am pants at discerning intervals, since that's how one tunes a viola, it's a key part of music theory labs, and I'd really like to lock into the harmonies of Foster the People's "Houdini." I joke about being linear to a fault, but it's also true that I used to test my tuning of said viola not by listening for fifths but by softly plunking the scale between the two notes.

And yet, I do know about to sing in tune, within chords and while sight-reading my way through weird-ass contemporary pieces where said knowledge of music theory becomes one's compass, and I can recognize when other performers are off by a hair or a mile. So I'm not dead hopeless about intervals, and in fact better than the average schmoe, especially when reacting to Voice France episodes. (I am reminded of Mika bellowing "Are you fucking deaf?" at his fellow Italian X Factor judges . . .) I supposed it's like my limited facility with foreign languages -- I'm terrible at accents myself, but I sure can hear when someone doesn't yet have a handle on Mandarin tones.

prestidigitation: I had a lightbulb moment earlier this year that was so shiny that I sent this email to a friend at 2 a.m.:


I'm annoyed as hell about having to work on Sublimations through the night, but in typing a note to the graphic designer, I suddenly realized the origin of the word legerdemain. Apparently I am easily cheered up.




Want to play? Hit "reply" to request your three words.

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417486.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

Jun. 20th, 2019

horses of light with green manes

Today's subject line comes from Sarah Arvio's translation of Federico García Lorca's "Love Sleeps in the Poet's Chest."

Lorca is mentioned several times in the materials for Monsters & Myths, the Surrealism show that opens to museum members and the media in 90 minutes. (I'm dressing for it between checking off a few more items on the Workflowy...) Many of the artists in the show fought and/or fled Fascists and Nazis.

detail from Miro's A NIGHT SCENE detail from Joan Miró's NIGHT SCENE

Earlier this morning, I dipped into the anthology Staying Alive and lingered with Stephen Dunn's "Sadness":


... I had sad stories of my own,
but they made me quiet
the way my parents' failures once did,
nobody's business
but our own, and, besides, what was left to say
these days
when the unspeakable was out there being spoken,
exhausting all sympathy?



[Standard "Hound of Heaven" caveat here: quotes do not represent the whole, and I adore poems I don't agree with.]


This entry was originally posted at https://zirconium.dreamwidth.org/154796.html.
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Jun. 19th, 2019

bathtub vids, take 2

A friend pointed out I hadn't actually linked to me with the ducks and drumstick:
https://www.mikafanclub.com/topic/33693-ice-cream/?do=findComment&comment=4155255

This entry was originally posted at https://bronze-ribbons.dreamwidth.org/417138.html. I see comments at DW, IJ, and LJ (when notifications are working, anyway), but not on feeds.

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