I have discovered that as weird and twitchy and anxiety ridden as I become when massive amounts of snow fall from the sky and pile up all around me trapping me indoors, that is NOTHING compared with how nuts I get when massive amounts of snow fall from the sky and pile up all around me trapping me indoors while a former president is whisked away to the hospital with chest pains the week before Ash Wednesday. Just sayin'. For the record. Not a happy feeling.
I made it to work today and Bill went home, so all is now right with the world. Pippa has passed. Please do not scare me like that again.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
weather update
I usually envy my neighbors who, thanks to winds, direction, and position in the building, get bigger snowdrifts than I piling up on their balcony rails. Let's be clear, I hate the snow but I can be both greedy and competitive. Today, however, I actually have a drift ON my balcony, not just on the ledge. I consider this a victory in my favor. Mock me if you must.
I'm also very aware today of the cracks in my concrete balcony. What kind of severe temperatures and snow buildup could my balcony withstand before simply snapping in two and disappearing down the side of the building? I'm on the sixteenth floor, so an avalanche scenario is not completely out of the question. And, without the balcony, there would be no need to get all worked up about the drifts.
I'm also very aware today of the cracks in my concrete balcony. What kind of severe temperatures and snow buildup could my balcony withstand before simply snapping in two and disappearing down the side of the building? I'm on the sixteenth floor, so an avalanche scenario is not completely out of the question. And, without the balcony, there would be no need to get all worked up about the drifts.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
snow days
I hate snow. I mean, I really hate snow. It is evil and will do its level best to ruin your life. I hate snow. People think I'm exaggerating when I talk about my intense loathing for snow, but I'm not. I hate it. It's occasionally attractive in a photo or painting, but it doesn't have a frame around it snow is awful.
We had ghastly amounts of snow here at the end of last week and over the weekend. So much so that the plows haven't been able to keep up with the snowfall and some roads still haven't been cleared. Thousands of people are without power. The feds, and schools, and a lot of businesses have been closed since last Friday. Now it's snowing again. We anticipate maybe another ten inches before morning. AAAARGH!!!!
I had to go in to work today. I didn't drive; I took the bus--a 90 minute trip each way. On a nice day I can walk it in 45. I hate snow. The roads are a mess and the sidewalks are even worse. Thanks to the snow, I spent the entire day with my stomach in knots trying to get four days worth of work done in six hours and then get back home before nightfall when you have no hope of seeing the icy patches on the path in front of you. I'm jittery and freaked out and desperately want some cookies to distract me from being jittery and freaked out, but there's no way in heck I'm leaving my apartment now that I've made it home and I know I wouldn't even be able to taste cookies (what with being all jittery and freaked out) and would just snarf the entire package of cookies without even thinking about it. This is why I don't keep cookies in the house.
However, I may need to start keeping tranquilizers in the house. You know, for the snow days.
We had ghastly amounts of snow here at the end of last week and over the weekend. So much so that the plows haven't been able to keep up with the snowfall and some roads still haven't been cleared. Thousands of people are without power. The feds, and schools, and a lot of businesses have been closed since last Friday. Now it's snowing again. We anticipate maybe another ten inches before morning. AAAARGH!!!!
I had to go in to work today. I didn't drive; I took the bus--a 90 minute trip each way. On a nice day I can walk it in 45. I hate snow. The roads are a mess and the sidewalks are even worse. Thanks to the snow, I spent the entire day with my stomach in knots trying to get four days worth of work done in six hours and then get back home before nightfall when you have no hope of seeing the icy patches on the path in front of you. I'm jittery and freaked out and desperately want some cookies to distract me from being jittery and freaked out, but there's no way in heck I'm leaving my apartment now that I've made it home and I know I wouldn't even be able to taste cookies (what with being all jittery and freaked out) and would just snarf the entire package of cookies without even thinking about it. This is why I don't keep cookies in the house.
However, I may need to start keeping tranquilizers in the house. You know, for the snow days.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
may your heart be light
I hope you’re having a happy Christmas. And, if Christmas isn’t your thing, I hope you’re finding a reason to celebrate as we move from one calendar year into the next.
Speaking for myself, which is pretty much what one does on a blog, I’ve had lovely holiday thus far. I’ve gotten another few months reprieve on moving (hallelujah!) and work is going reasonably well at the moment. And while I haven’t had much in the way of vacation this year, I am receiving some comp time as we wind down post-Christmas Day.
For those of you who may not know, the year started with work on the Presidential Inaugural Prayer Service. Mid-year, I was working on the 76th General Convention of The Episcopal Church. Since August I’ve been in a constant whirlwind of weddings, funerals, Sundays and special services, concluding with a major revamp of print materials for Christmas services in addition to writing what amounts to promotional copy for ministries and services.
So, yeah, big year.
Oh! I almost forgot; one of my poems made a public debut as, well, sacred text. I wrote it as a hymn text and shared it with a friend who chose to include it in a Benedictine worship event. There’s been a little noise about setting the complete text to music. I don’t put a lot of stock in that. We’ll see what happens.
I think that’s most of the major stuff that I did this year.
Oh! And I saw Hair in New York with Plug and we ended up dancing on stage at the end. After all these years, we finally got our big break and performed on Broadway. We were fabulous and received a standing ovation as the sun shone in.
Okay, I think that really is all of the milestones for this year.
There are also a couple of things that I’m not doing. I’m not singing in a choir this season. I’m still taking voice lessons, but—for the moment—I’m not doing any choral work. There are a lot of reasons for this, but basically it boils down to my deep-seated belief that singing in a congregational choir should be ministry in relationship with God. If it’s not ministry, one that serves a broader community while nurturing the community of the choir, then what differentiates it from a civic choir or the opera chorus? It was pretty clear to me that the desire was to have a volunteer choir that functioned as a professional choir, in the sense that a professional chorister is a person doing a job, without feeling, without motive beyond a paycheck, and certainly without God. Obviously, I can go on and on about this, but I won’t.
I will say that singing with this group did a lot to improve my singing. I’m probably singing better now than I ever have. My voice coach, Kayo, warned me at our last session that my voice is about to get a lot bigger. That scares the crap out of me; my voice is already much larger now than it was a couple of years ago. Kayo did, however, commend me for my decision not to sing chorally this year. She says now that I’m not trying to match my idea of what a director is looking for, nor trying to “blend” with other unhealthy sopranos, my real voice is beginning to emerge. Kayo is also suggesting, firmly, that I step down from the excruciating heights of high sopranoland—not that I don’t have the notes, but that’s not where my voice is at its best. Kayo’s promising to come up with some interesting challenges for me for the Spring. I can’t wait to see where I end up.
The other thing I’m not doing at the moment is regularly attending worship. Heresy, I know. I jumped into singing with the last choir because I needed, NEEDED, a place to sing, but I always knew it wasn’t the right place for me to pray. Now, I’m taking my time. I’ve been strongly encouraged to dive into the deep end of Latino mission in the diocese. This is where my heart has been for a long time, but I’m trying to be cautious about choosing my next commitment; I know all too well how quickly I will find myself up to my ears in new congregational commitments, this time in two languages. Part of that is the nature of the beast that is the Church; the other part is all me—I’m too competent by half!
I actually sat down today to do a quick recap of this year’s Christmas gifts. As you can see other things got in the way, but now for a quick rundown (because I’m braggy and you really want to know).
First, there is the wonderful and highly anticipated page-a-day calendar that my office mate gave me. This is the third year in a row on this gift. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is the calendar, which this year has provided us with the fabulous word BUNGFUNGER, meaning to utterly confound. I have found this word to be extremely useful around the office. I highly suggest you add it to your functional vocabulary.
See what I mean? It’s so useful. I can’t wait to see what this year brings.
I received two Christmas ornaments from co-workers: one inviting peace, and one reminding me that there’s no place like home. I desperately need peace, and I really miss home sometimes. We left work on time one evening to see the 75th anniversary movie theatre release of Wizard of Oz. Terribly digitized, but we saw soooo many things we’d never seen before.
My boss gave me paper dolls and chocolate. Yippee! Two of my faves. Another co-worker gave me some lovely stationery. I also netted a pint of fresh salsa from one of the vergers and a slice of rum cake which has worked it’s way into my Christmas Eve ritual. I work both services, get home about 1 a.m., call Lit and talk with her while I open my presents and then unwind with a slice of the famous rum cake.
Yum!
I also got a big kiss.
After carefully thinking it through, I determined that this was not cause for a sexual harassment complaint.
From Santa this year I received a slew of effort. You know, times are tough for everyone. There’ve been layoffs at the North Pole. The workforce is smaller, but the demands are higher than ever. That’s why you have to really appreciate the tremendous time and energy that went into presentation.
Paint bucket lip gloss wrapped in a weird paisley bag,
a book which mocks my paragon of a mother was wrapped in glitter tissue,
a vaguely anti-Semitic, candy striped apron (Oy veh!) wrapped in what I believe was originally a wine bottle gift bag,
and the piece de resistance—a ballpoint pen wrapped in a toilet paper roll.
(Santa’s helper would like to interject at this point that it was not a toilet paper roll, it was custom cut from a wrapping paper roll.)
True. I have made sport of Santa’s efforts, even though I know that this kind of gift giving doesn’t just happen. Real work goes into it, and more importantly, love. Thank you, Santa!
This came from Dagromm, Taz, and company. Thank you all so much! It’s EXACTLY what I asked for. The cold dry air up here is murder on my hands and I went through quite a bit of hand cream on Christmas Eve alone. This shea butter stuff is fabulous. And the OPI Meet for Drinks nail color is gonna be a lot of fun, too. I have plans for a manicure over the weekend. Oooeee! I’m living it up big time now.
From Lit, who is the unrivaled queen of weird gifts gleaned from estate sales, I received everyone’s favorite board game
That’s right, it’s Scripturama! To see, to play, to learn, to enjoy—or so the game box tells me. I haven’t read through all the rules yet, still I have no doubt that my friends and I will have hours of fun with this. As you can see it comes with a full complement of exciting game cards for loads of scriptural fun.
And, as if Scripturama wasn’t enough to keep a party going for hours, she also sent along a perennial favorite gambling rodent dice game
Skunk! I have no idea how to play, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out next time you come for dinner. It comes with scorecards, chips, and rodent dice—it MUST be fun! The fun never stops at the Goo Factory.
Lit also sent along a food processor. We are currently in a hot debate about whether or not all of the parts were included when she sent it. She says yes, I say not so much. I believe there is an adaptor shaft missing. This belief should not suggest that I am ungrateful, but I wouldn’t bring the subject up with Lit unless you plan to take sides.
My final gift from Lit was a nativity set. Mary and baby Jesus (check out that full head of hair!) are pretty clear, and the guys down front are most likely shepherds—one is clutching a sheep (or just really shy) and the other is blowing a pipe (insert off-color shepherd joke here). Anyone care to explain the two homeboys hanging out at the back?
I love this set! They have such character, such panache. This may have to become my new office crèche. Lit has been hanging onto this set for years. I don’t remember her buying it, but I remember the Beard estate sale from which she purchased it. I don’t know if she was waiting for just the right year, or put is away and forgot about it until now, but I think it’s terrific.
Of course, the gifts I can’t show you are some of the best gifts of all: the cards, emails, and phone calls I’ve received over the last couple of weeks. Some of the gifts have come in the form of much-needed hugs, or meals, or just time hanging out with friends. This year my dad and stepmother are gifting me with a four-hour performance workshop with the Neo-Futurists. Thank you, both, very much! I’m doing that this Saturday and looking forward to stretching some muscles I haven’t used in a while.
That’s my recitation of Christmas fun. I know there’s more yet to come and hope your Christmas has been wonderful, too.
Speaking for myself, which is pretty much what one does on a blog, I’ve had lovely holiday thus far. I’ve gotten another few months reprieve on moving (hallelujah!) and work is going reasonably well at the moment. And while I haven’t had much in the way of vacation this year, I am receiving some comp time as we wind down post-Christmas Day.
For those of you who may not know, the year started with work on the Presidential Inaugural Prayer Service. Mid-year, I was working on the 76th General Convention of The Episcopal Church. Since August I’ve been in a constant whirlwind of weddings, funerals, Sundays and special services, concluding with a major revamp of print materials for Christmas services in addition to writing what amounts to promotional copy for ministries and services.
So, yeah, big year.
Oh! I almost forgot; one of my poems made a public debut as, well, sacred text. I wrote it as a hymn text and shared it with a friend who chose to include it in a Benedictine worship event. There’s been a little noise about setting the complete text to music. I don’t put a lot of stock in that. We’ll see what happens.
I think that’s most of the major stuff that I did this year.
Oh! And I saw Hair in New York with Plug and we ended up dancing on stage at the end. After all these years, we finally got our big break and performed on Broadway. We were fabulous and received a standing ovation as the sun shone in.
Okay, I think that really is all of the milestones for this year.
There are also a couple of things that I’m not doing. I’m not singing in a choir this season. I’m still taking voice lessons, but—for the moment—I’m not doing any choral work. There are a lot of reasons for this, but basically it boils down to my deep-seated belief that singing in a congregational choir should be ministry in relationship with God. If it’s not ministry, one that serves a broader community while nurturing the community of the choir, then what differentiates it from a civic choir or the opera chorus? It was pretty clear to me that the desire was to have a volunteer choir that functioned as a professional choir, in the sense that a professional chorister is a person doing a job, without feeling, without motive beyond a paycheck, and certainly without God. Obviously, I can go on and on about this, but I won’t.
I will say that singing with this group did a lot to improve my singing. I’m probably singing better now than I ever have. My voice coach, Kayo, warned me at our last session that my voice is about to get a lot bigger. That scares the crap out of me; my voice is already much larger now than it was a couple of years ago. Kayo did, however, commend me for my decision not to sing chorally this year. She says now that I’m not trying to match my idea of what a director is looking for, nor trying to “blend” with other unhealthy sopranos, my real voice is beginning to emerge. Kayo is also suggesting, firmly, that I step down from the excruciating heights of high sopranoland—not that I don’t have the notes, but that’s not where my voice is at its best. Kayo’s promising to come up with some interesting challenges for me for the Spring. I can’t wait to see where I end up.
The other thing I’m not doing at the moment is regularly attending worship. Heresy, I know. I jumped into singing with the last choir because I needed, NEEDED, a place to sing, but I always knew it wasn’t the right place for me to pray. Now, I’m taking my time. I’ve been strongly encouraged to dive into the deep end of Latino mission in the diocese. This is where my heart has been for a long time, but I’m trying to be cautious about choosing my next commitment; I know all too well how quickly I will find myself up to my ears in new congregational commitments, this time in two languages. Part of that is the nature of the beast that is the Church; the other part is all me—I’m too competent by half!
I actually sat down today to do a quick recap of this year’s Christmas gifts. As you can see other things got in the way, but now for a quick rundown (because I’m braggy and you really want to know).
First, there is the wonderful and highly anticipated page-a-day calendar that my office mate gave me. This is the third year in a row on this gift. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. This is the calendar, which this year has provided us with the fabulous word BUNGFUNGER, meaning to utterly confound. I have found this word to be extremely useful around the office. I highly suggest you add it to your functional vocabulary.
That meeting left me completely bungfungered.
She’s managed to bungfunger everyone involved with that project.
The boss is in the conference room bungfungering the new interns.
See what I mean? It’s so useful. I can’t wait to see what this year brings.
I received two Christmas ornaments from co-workers: one inviting peace, and one reminding me that there’s no place like home. I desperately need peace, and I really miss home sometimes. We left work on time one evening to see the 75th anniversary movie theatre release of Wizard of Oz. Terribly digitized, but we saw soooo many things we’d never seen before.
My boss gave me paper dolls and chocolate. Yippee! Two of my faves. Another co-worker gave me some lovely stationery. I also netted a pint of fresh salsa from one of the vergers and a slice of rum cake which has worked it’s way into my Christmas Eve ritual. I work both services, get home about 1 a.m., call Lit and talk with her while I open my presents and then unwind with a slice of the famous rum cake.
Yum!
I also got a big kiss.
After carefully thinking it through, I determined that this was not cause for a sexual harassment complaint.
From Santa this year I received a slew of effort. You know, times are tough for everyone. There’ve been layoffs at the North Pole. The workforce is smaller, but the demands are higher than ever. That’s why you have to really appreciate the tremendous time and energy that went into presentation.
Paint bucket lip gloss wrapped in a weird paisley bag,
a book which mocks my paragon of a mother was wrapped in glitter tissue,
a vaguely anti-Semitic, candy striped apron (Oy veh!) wrapped in what I believe was originally a wine bottle gift bag,
and the piece de resistance—a ballpoint pen wrapped in a toilet paper roll.
(Santa’s helper would like to interject at this point that it was not a toilet paper roll, it was custom cut from a wrapping paper roll.)
True. I have made sport of Santa’s efforts, even though I know that this kind of gift giving doesn’t just happen. Real work goes into it, and more importantly, love. Thank you, Santa!
This came from Dagromm, Taz, and company. Thank you all so much! It’s EXACTLY what I asked for. The cold dry air up here is murder on my hands and I went through quite a bit of hand cream on Christmas Eve alone. This shea butter stuff is fabulous. And the OPI Meet for Drinks nail color is gonna be a lot of fun, too. I have plans for a manicure over the weekend. Oooeee! I’m living it up big time now.
From Lit, who is the unrivaled queen of weird gifts gleaned from estate sales, I received everyone’s favorite board game
That’s right, it’s Scripturama! To see, to play, to learn, to enjoy—or so the game box tells me. I haven’t read through all the rules yet, still I have no doubt that my friends and I will have hours of fun with this. As you can see it comes with a full complement of exciting game cards for loads of scriptural fun.
And, as if Scripturama wasn’t enough to keep a party going for hours, she also sent along a perennial favorite gambling rodent dice game
Skunk! I have no idea how to play, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out next time you come for dinner. It comes with scorecards, chips, and rodent dice—it MUST be fun! The fun never stops at the Goo Factory.
Lit also sent along a food processor. We are currently in a hot debate about whether or not all of the parts were included when she sent it. She says yes, I say not so much. I believe there is an adaptor shaft missing. This belief should not suggest that I am ungrateful, but I wouldn’t bring the subject up with Lit unless you plan to take sides.
My final gift from Lit was a nativity set. Mary and baby Jesus (check out that full head of hair!) are pretty clear, and the guys down front are most likely shepherds—one is clutching a sheep (or just really shy) and the other is blowing a pipe (insert off-color shepherd joke here). Anyone care to explain the two homeboys hanging out at the back?
I love this set! They have such character, such panache. This may have to become my new office crèche. Lit has been hanging onto this set for years. I don’t remember her buying it, but I remember the Beard estate sale from which she purchased it. I don’t know if she was waiting for just the right year, or put is away and forgot about it until now, but I think it’s terrific.
Of course, the gifts I can’t show you are some of the best gifts of all: the cards, emails, and phone calls I’ve received over the last couple of weeks. Some of the gifts have come in the form of much-needed hugs, or meals, or just time hanging out with friends. This year my dad and stepmother are gifting me with a four-hour performance workshop with the Neo-Futurists. Thank you, both, very much! I’m doing that this Saturday and looking forward to stretching some muscles I haven’t used in a while.
That’s my recitation of Christmas fun. I know there’s more yet to come and hope your Christmas has been wonderful, too.
Monday, August 24, 2009
baa baa baa
My friend Bonnie made too many sheep.
Probably not the sort of sentence one gets to write terribly often, so I think it's worth repeating. Bonnie made too many sheep.
As I understand it, in the process of building a nativity scene Bonnie went a little overboard on the sheep. She made entire flocks. Prior to slaying Goliath, David didn't tend this many sheep. There were lots and lots of sheep. More sheep than a chronic insomniac could hope to count. Okay, maybe I'm beginning to exaggerate slightly, but seriously, there were a lot of sheep.
Then, of course, after Christmas you have to figure out what to do with all the sheep. Bonnie's solution was to give them away. She took photos of all the sheep (imagine this as a sort of cross between passport photos and mugshots) and then passed the contact sheets around among various friends and invited everyone to choose one. Three or four contact sheets, sixteen or twenty photos per page, three or four animals per photo--LOTS of choices!
By the time I saw the photos, several of the little creatures had already been adopted. I must admit, I was more strongly inclined to choose a sheep of color. The white ones were fluffy and cute, but the black and grey and mud colored animals just seemed more interesting. Then I saw the goats. If the black sheep, with all of its cultural implications was tempting, the goat and its biblical import was an even greater lure. Oh, did I like the goats? I could choose a goat if I liked. Or an angel; there are angels, too. Everytime I decided that I really liked the texture of this one, I'd notice the horns on that one and change my mind. Then I'd see this one over here had a fabulous tilt to it's head, only to find that the one in the next photo had so much character! (When I reread this while editing I got a chuckle at the image of horned angels, but decided you'd appreciate the image also, so I left it.)
If you're having trouble understanding why it was so difficult to just pick a sheep and say, "Thank you, Bonnie" and get on with my life, you should know that Bonnie taught animation for several years. And although I met her through singing, I don't think there is any artistic expression she hasn't put her hand to at some point. Being presented with photographic vignettes, pictorial essays of ovine social structures, made it almost impossible to select a single example of her work. Choosing any one meant breaking up a scene. How do you decide which single one will continue to charm you without the interplay with the one next to it. Finally, I told Bonnie I couldn't choose for myself, but, yes, please, I'd love to have one. This is the truth. Had I been forced to choose from the photos, I can almost guarantee that I'd be disappointed with my own selection and wonder endlessly if I couldn't have made a better choice.
Last Friday Bonnie came by my office to borrow my Pantone book and brought with her a selection of five sheep from which I was to choose. She brought two white sheep, two brown sheep (one medium brown, one camel-colored), and one dark grey-black sheep. While I loved the caramel colors of the camel and the mix of colors in the medium brown, they didn't convey the personality of the others and were quickly eliminated. And while I very much admired the striking looks of the darkest of the sheep, I wasn't as enamored with him in person as I had expected to be from the photos. In contrast, the white sheep which I had written off at the outset were the most engaging. They had much more depth of color than the photos indicated and their expressions were charming. My co-workers were brought in to help me make the final choice. And although I was very much taken with a fat little sheep with floppy ears and a pleading expression, my co-workers felt that that sheep was too needy for me. I suspect they think I lack in the tender depth of feeling necessary to meet the emotional needs of four-inch-tall inanimate creature. (If I worry about this too much I'll end up injured by their judgment. Crap. Now I've put it in writing and I'm sure that's what they were implying!) Anyway, they felt the fifth of Bonnie's sheep was the one meant for me, the one best suited to my temperment.
I believe there was a certain level of determination, nay belligerence, conveyed in the tilt of this little sheep's head that my co-workers believed made it a perfect match for me. Not they would ever suggest I maintain these qualities. Merely that they thought the presence of this fuzzy guardian at the gate of my workspace might invite others to think twice before inviting my attention. Hmmm...
Now we need a name for my little baby. Post your suggestions in the comments. I won't guarantee that I'll choose from the submissions, but I will agree to consider them all.
PS Bonnie is now making MORE sheep (and goats, and giraffes, and who knows what else). There's been discussion of a gallery show. Really, my photo doesn't do justice to her work, but in groups they are truly outstanding.
Probably not the sort of sentence one gets to write terribly often, so I think it's worth repeating. Bonnie made too many sheep.
As I understand it, in the process of building a nativity scene Bonnie went a little overboard on the sheep. She made entire flocks. Prior to slaying Goliath, David didn't tend this many sheep. There were lots and lots of sheep. More sheep than a chronic insomniac could hope to count. Okay, maybe I'm beginning to exaggerate slightly, but seriously, there were a lot of sheep.
Then, of course, after Christmas you have to figure out what to do with all the sheep. Bonnie's solution was to give them away. She took photos of all the sheep (imagine this as a sort of cross between passport photos and mugshots) and then passed the contact sheets around among various friends and invited everyone to choose one. Three or four contact sheets, sixteen or twenty photos per page, three or four animals per photo--LOTS of choices!
By the time I saw the photos, several of the little creatures had already been adopted. I must admit, I was more strongly inclined to choose a sheep of color. The white ones were fluffy and cute, but the black and grey and mud colored animals just seemed more interesting. Then I saw the goats. If the black sheep, with all of its cultural implications was tempting, the goat and its biblical import was an even greater lure. Oh, did I like the goats? I could choose a goat if I liked. Or an angel; there are angels, too. Everytime I decided that I really liked the texture of this one, I'd notice the horns on that one and change my mind. Then I'd see this one over here had a fabulous tilt to it's head, only to find that the one in the next photo had so much character! (When I reread this while editing I got a chuckle at the image of horned angels, but decided you'd appreciate the image also, so I left it.)
If you're having trouble understanding why it was so difficult to just pick a sheep and say, "Thank you, Bonnie" and get on with my life, you should know that Bonnie taught animation for several years. And although I met her through singing, I don't think there is any artistic expression she hasn't put her hand to at some point. Being presented with photographic vignettes, pictorial essays of ovine social structures, made it almost impossible to select a single example of her work. Choosing any one meant breaking up a scene. How do you decide which single one will continue to charm you without the interplay with the one next to it. Finally, I told Bonnie I couldn't choose for myself, but, yes, please, I'd love to have one. This is the truth. Had I been forced to choose from the photos, I can almost guarantee that I'd be disappointed with my own selection and wonder endlessly if I couldn't have made a better choice.
Last Friday Bonnie came by my office to borrow my Pantone book and brought with her a selection of five sheep from which I was to choose. She brought two white sheep, two brown sheep (one medium brown, one camel-colored), and one dark grey-black sheep. While I loved the caramel colors of the camel and the mix of colors in the medium brown, they didn't convey the personality of the others and were quickly eliminated. And while I very much admired the striking looks of the darkest of the sheep, I wasn't as enamored with him in person as I had expected to be from the photos. In contrast, the white sheep which I had written off at the outset were the most engaging. They had much more depth of color than the photos indicated and their expressions were charming. My co-workers were brought in to help me make the final choice. And although I was very much taken with a fat little sheep with floppy ears and a pleading expression, my co-workers felt that that sheep was too needy for me. I suspect they think I lack in the tender depth of feeling necessary to meet the emotional needs of four-inch-tall inanimate creature. (If I worry about this too much I'll end up injured by their judgment. Crap. Now I've put it in writing and I'm sure that's what they were implying!) Anyway, they felt the fifth of Bonnie's sheep was the one meant for me, the one best suited to my temperment.
I believe there was a certain level of determination, nay belligerence, conveyed in the tilt of this little sheep's head that my co-workers believed made it a perfect match for me. Not they would ever suggest I maintain these qualities. Merely that they thought the presence of this fuzzy guardian at the gate of my workspace might invite others to think twice before inviting my attention. Hmmm...
Now we need a name for my little baby. Post your suggestions in the comments. I won't guarantee that I'll choose from the submissions, but I will agree to consider them all.
PS Bonnie is now making MORE sheep (and goats, and giraffes, and who knows what else). There's been discussion of a gallery show. Really, my photo doesn't do justice to her work, but in groups they are truly outstanding.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
monumental 2.0
I got some good feedback--thanks!--and I've incorporated much of it. Most of the feedback hit on the same points that I had privately noted for myself. That's good news for me in that other people try and convince me I'm hypercritical. Now I know I'm just right. :) Here's where it currently stands. It looks like it's working toward becoming a clumsy sonnet, but I'm not feeling bound by literary conventions at the moment.
I was in bed with the lights off trying to put myself into a happy dreaming attitude and had to get up out of bed to work on this some more. Grumble, grumble, grumble...Great. Now the phone's ringing! Aaargh!!
What monument to thee, my God, could convey thy grandeur,
What lofty height of man’s design impart thy grace,
What sparkling glass reflect thy splendor,
Or carvéd rock reveal thy face?
Such follies do men build for thee,
And treasure stores amass,
To mimic thy heavenly beauties
Which all earthly work surpass.
No, no monument to thee will I offer
Nor semblance of thy state will I effect,
But thy image marked on me to all I proffer
In hope thy vessel thou wilt perfect.
I was in bed with the lights off trying to put myself into a happy dreaming attitude and had to get up out of bed to work on this some more. Grumble, grumble, grumble...Great. Now the phone's ringing! Aaargh!!
Monday, July 13, 2009
monumental
What monument to thee, my God, could convey thy grandeur,
What lofty height of man’s design impart thy grace,
What sparkling glass reflect thy splendor,
Or carvéd rock reveal thy face?
No monument to thee will I then offer
Nor semblance of thy state will I effect,
But thy image marked on me to the world I proffer
With hope thy image in me thou wilt perfect.
I wrote this yesterday while sitting at the Navy Memorial. We've been subject recently to some poor writing at work in which WNC was referred to as a "monument". Needless to say, that kicked off a round of argument from our departmental point of view. I think, the juxtaposition of that internal document and my having a few free minutes at the Navy Memorial is what brought this on. I feel like it needs a transitional second stanza, but know that I also have a tendency to overwrite. Thoughts?
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