• Not a lark.  Not an owl.

    April 2, 2015
    a day in this life

    What is a bird for the evening?

    Three decades ago, I learned that I really am most alert in the latter part of the day.  I drove my mother crazy, reading by the hall light until midnight.  And when I went to college, I arranged all my classes to be after 10 AM.

    I can do third shift when I must.  But, that isn’t the best time for me  for an extended time.  I don’t sleep well in the daylight. Not for long periods any way.  Even if I’ve been up all night, I start waking up around ps noon and have to fight my psyche to stay asleep.

    Unfortunately, Spring is happening and I need to get out of my bed to get things done in my yard while it is cool.  So, I need to rearrange my habits.  Lingering over coffee for 2 or 3 hours while I read the internet isn’t going to work anymore.  That needs to wait for 80F.  Or when I’m too tired to drag brush back to the woods.

    (The amount of money we spend on mulch is ridiculous,)

    Time is a construct created by Man to order his life.  But, temperature is a brute that is unaffected by our needs, wants or opinions.

  • The S-word.

    April 1, 2015
    a day in this life, family, Laughing

    When my son was 3and a half years old, he came home from daycare telling that a boy had gotten in trouble for saying a bad word.  

    I said, “What did he say?”  And my child looked at me me like I was stupid.

    “I can’t say it.  It is a bad word.”

    “Well, you aren’t saying it as a bad word. You are just telling me.”

    He cut his eyes at me like he wasn’t sure I wasn’t setting him up for trouble and lowered his voice. Mind you, there was no one else in our house.  

    “He said the s-word.”

    “Shit?”

    At this point, he was totally exasperated with me. 

    “No, Mom.  He said,” and his voice dropped to a whisper, “‘shut up.’”

    He didn’t understand why that cracked me up.  But, I did agree with him that “shut up” is a very rude thing to say.

  • Vanitas

    March 28, 2015
    dancing in the field of dreams

    DSC05457This is my bad photography of François Desportes’s Urn of Flowers with Fruit and Hare at the NC Museum of Art.

    I learned about vanitas still lifes in the winter of 2012.  The museum had an exhibition of Still-Life Masterpieces: A Visual Feat from the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.  I wasn’t enthusiastic about the exhibition, but it was available to wander through during the holiday gala; so, we did.

    And, we learned something important.  We learned about the style of still life that is a memento mori.  Some of them are pretty heavy handed.  Full of skulls and clocks and hourglasses.  Others are more subtle.  There will be flowers in vases that would only last for a day, never for the amount of time that was necessary to paint them.  Or less than perfect fruit that has bruises on it.  Sometimes, there will be Spring flowers with Autumn fruit.

    This painting is a great example of the second kind.  Notice the bruises on the peaches.  And the irises in a vase with morning glories.  The lapin corpse and grey butterfly aren’t so subtle.  But, I really enjoy this painting.

  • Volcanoes!!!!

    March 26, 2015
    a day in this life, Beautiful

    I could never be a vulcanologist (Look it up.  It’s the right word.)  But, I am fascinated by volcanoes.  I love to watch lava flow, from the safe distance of video.

    What do you think?

  • Matters of taste

    March 26, 2015
    a day in this life, food & drink

    When my son was 3 or 4 years old, he couldn’t understand why I didn’t like the same foods he did.  He would say “You liked it when YOU were my age!” frustrated that sharing wasn’t working.  But, he was appalled by some of the things I put in my mouth, too.

    One day, I found an article about taste buds.  It said that in the variety and fluctuations that are our bodies, we get a whole new set about every 5 years.  And that what tastes lovely to us now may get a completely different reading in 5 years.  I told Christopher about that and we figured that I am 6 taste bud cycles ahead of him.  That made sharing tastes, and not agreeing about them, more palatable, so to speak.

    Several years later, I learned that a dear friend has a recessive  genetic trait that causes cilantro to taste like soap to her.  My husband adores cilantro.  He adds extra to his salsa, tacos, salads.  Clearly, he doesn’t have the recessive gene.  I taste the soap if there is a lot of cilantro.  I suspect that I am heterozygous.

    Another instance of taste bud variations involves cardamom.  Chuck keeps me supplied with granola.  Since he makes it, it is exactly how I like it.  He was making it for himself, too, when we weren’t living together.  He likes cardamom and added it to his batch.  I was visiting and tried it.  I was completely overwhelmed by the cardamom.  The next time he made it, he decreased it significantly so that I could taste it, but not be overwhelmed.  The problem with that was, he couldn’t even tell it was there.

    The upshot of all this taste variation awareness is that our response to “That’s too sweet” or “Ew. You have all of that.” is to laugh at how different bodies are.

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