she's just saying...

Summer dusk

Occasionally a certain sound or smell or quality of light can transport me right back to my childhood in the suburbs of Pittsburgh.

The look of dusk after the sun has set, the sky still light enough to see with; a turtledove cooing; conversation on a porch in the distance; the green smell of a watered lawn. Put these together and I'm a little girl again lying in my bed listening through the window to the laughter of the grownups and the clink of iced tea glasses on the porch below.

I can almost taste the feeling. It's a sweet and painful pang of nostalgia and primal memory.

But now I'm the adult with the icy drink, sitting on the porch, enjoying the early summer green all around me in the oncoming dusk.

Confessions of a fangirl

LeBron was spectacular in the 4th quarter last night.

"You never want to disappoint the home crowd. It was win or go home,'' James said. "You have to do everything sometimes.''

I can relate.

But seriously...

It's weird to me that I'm so into watching professional sports. Not just watching, but following. I read Sports Illustrated. I stay up for Sports Center. I even listen to sports talk radio. Really.

Weird because I never played team sports growing up. NEVER, unless I was forced to in gym class. Always last to be picked (btw, how come everyone says they're the last? That's not statistically possible). I always swam, skied and took ballet, but never competed. Physical competition made me anxious. I think it still does; I don't know because I avoid it. It's not about fitness; I was a scuba divemaster and an aerobics instructor. But I won't even play volleyball at a beach picnic.

So why am I glued to the baseball game streaming on the computer, the basketball finals on TV and reading about the football draft? Where could this have come from? I was always the arts & crafts type (still am).

Watching the girls at Henry's meets and games, I'm envious of their unself-consciousness and their team camaraderie. I realize I missed out on an experience that would have been confidence-building and valuable. Maybe that's why I'm drawn to the culture of professional sports. Or maybe this is why:

In which I direct you to a much funnier blog

Stop what you're doing (which would be reading my blog) and run, hop or flutter over to this post from my reciprocal blog pal Kathi D.

Most. Hilarious. Post. Ever. Involving chickens, sex, aprons, camo, Madonna and dogs.

(Given those words above in one post, my blog traffic could get really interesting.)

Here's a hint:

Go enjoy. You will eventually come back here, right?

In which I knit. And garden. Though not at the same time.

This blog is supposed to occasionally focus on knitting. However, when summer finally arrives in Central Oregon, my knitting switch goes off and the gardening switch is triggered.

We only get about four months of gardening in here before it starts to freeze at night, so Central Oregonians go into a bit of a frenzy trying to pack it all in between May and September. It's a real challenge to garden in the high desert. The weather is dry, scorching and freezing, so it takes a pretty hardy plant to thrive. The temperature last month ranged from 31 degrees to 82 degrees, though not in that order, so you can see the issues we face.

But I digress. Knitting. I'm working on the tweedy cabled cardigan that is going along pretty quickly. I don't have a lot of motivation to finish it until fall, but I don't want to lose the rhythm of the pattern, so I work on it sporadically.

I'm also oddly stuck in a never-ending loop of coffee cozies and felted mice.
the latest cozies

Each can be completed in the space of a movie so they're pretty gratifying. This occasionally happens to knitters, getting stuck on repeat on a certain pattern. I'll snap out of it eventually. Meantime, I'm producing a lot of little convenient gifts. I seem to have a problem taking the final step of delivering them, but that's just logistics, right?

In memory on Memorial Day

I'd like to share this again with you. This is a repeat of last year's post, updated for the anniversary date.

Jay Zemotel, Fairbanks, 1978

I didn't realize til just this moment that it is May 25, the 24th 25th anniversary of my husband's suicide. What a long time ago that seems. Truly another world, another lifetime.

Jay was a bluegrass guitar player and singer from Boston. He and his friends had a band that was very popular in Fairbanks, the town we lived in in the late 70's. When we met, it was love (or something like it) at first sight. He was wild and smart, funny and fatalistic. He did everything to the extreme: music, motorcycles, drugs, alcohol, love. He had a ponytail and a crazy dog and I thought he was everything I'd never experienced. I was a sheltered, suburban, private-college girl and he was the real world. He could walk into any bar and be at home. At the time that seemed like something.

I grew up during our short time together. Learning to live as a couple, on my own truly for the first time, trying to mesh very different backgrounds and values. There was love, fighting, fear and finally awareness. I was in way over my head and was going to drown with him or remove myself from that quicksand. Before the divorce was final, he succeeded too well at one of his occasional attempts at suicide, something I still believe he didn't mean to do.

For years I couldn't listen to a certain type of bluegrass without crying. Now it brings me closer to him. I have nothing left of our life together except some photos, and the only people I know who remember him are my family. He lived hard, tried to be happy, and loved me the best he could. I remember you, Jay, and you live on in my heart.

crabapple

Not bad for a point and shoot.

patching things up

Perfect early summer day here today. I'm doing my favorite weekend activity: patching the pond liner. I've figured out that as usual, my impatience is the problem. You have to let the patch cure for a full day, and I can never wait that long to fill the pond and get the waterfall gurgling again.

Impatience is one of the deadly sins I struggle with, along with sloth, gluttony, envy; actually most of the other ones, but those aren't what I'm talking about here. (And let's just ignore lust, thank you.) You know you're impatient if you always swear during the interminable five seconds it takes for your computer to start up. I try to take that moment just to breathe, but I grit my teeth.

Anyway, the patch should hold this time. I did it all correctly, using a hair dryer and a number of other random tools. While I wait, I'll remind myself to enjoy the moments; this summer day, a three-day weekend, my burgeoning garden, kids' voices playing baseball, my blooming crabapple. These are the days.

Big Steve's little kitteh

My brother has now gotten into kitten fostering. Here's one of his latest.
moar funny pictures

T.T.T: Workphrase edition

Phrases I use a lot at work.
After 20+ years in advertising, I've picked up a number of catch phrases that come in handy, or at least I seem to say a lot. These can actually be useful, as opposed to the bizarre biz-speak I wrote about here.

1.    Let’s not fix it in the room
This is a classic ad agency line that’s useful when a client/boss/colleague wants something changed in a piece of copy or concept, and everyone starts to throw out suggestions right there in the meeting.  It means “let us go away and work on it and we’ll come back with an alternative.”

2.    Give it the overnight test
Sleep on it and come back with your thoughts tomorrow.

3.    Reach x frequency
Not a catch phrase as much as a useful concept. This is the basic media measurement of how well you're communicating. Reach means what percent of your target is receiving your message and frequency means how many times they get it. The balance of the two is the art of media, and communication. (Shout-out to KG here.)

4.    Off strategy
Only once you’ve identified what you want to accomplish with a marketing effort can you then judge the creative. No matter how clever/funny/original an idea is, if it doesn’t meet your objective, it’s off strategy. You’ll see people trying to retro-fit the strategy to the cool idea, but it’s not good marketing.

5.    Mother-in-law research
When a client or colleague takes the idea home and gets a random opinion of it. This is not the optimal way to test creative. Also known as “secretary research” back when they existed.

6.    Fast/cheap/good
Pick two of the three. That's all you get.

7.    Share of stomach
Like market share, but on an individual consumption basis. Originally only applicable to food products, but I have used it instead of "mind share" which sounds too brainwashy.

8.    Need-to-know vs. nice-to-know
When I design a research survey, clients often want to throw in all kinds of questions on the theory that “If we’re going to ask them this, let’s find out that.” That’s fine if you have all the time in the world to ask questions, but respondents burn out after 3-5 minutes max. So we need to identify the need-to-know questions versus the nice-to-know stuff. Not that easy.

9.    Sick Demo Well
This is an advertising formula that describes 50% of the commercials out there. Something is wrong, the product is introduced with a demonstration of how it works, then everything’s all better.  Cold medicine, motor oil, chainsaws, airlines, you name it; it’s sold via this formula, 'cause it tends to work, and it's easy.

10.    Let’s take a step back
This is my go-to phrase for any crisis or tortured/detailed/panicked plan. In other words, let’s identify what it is we’re trying to accomplish before we launch into random action. It’s a great phrase that calms the room and puts things into a workable perspective.

And the Lucky Strike Extra (another old ad phrase):

11.     “Got a minute?”
This is never a good question. It’s usually followed by the layoff conversation, so when you hear it, say no, you’re too busy doing crucial stuff that will save the account.  I speak from experience.

Dreaming of hummers

The other night I dreamt that the hummingbirds had returned to my garden, but I didn't have the nectar feeders out, so they flew away. So yesterday I dug out the feeders, sterilized them, cooked up some nectar, filled them and hung them up. And now I wait for that wonderful whirring sound buzzing my head as I sit on my patio and enjoy the waterfall. Um, once the waterfall is working again, of course, which means figuring out how to patch it so that it stays patched. But that's another story as you know.

Last year we had a wonderful hummingbird summer. My goal this year is to take a better photo of them, still with my little point-and-shoot, which can actually take great shots. Though not this one.

Quick word quiz: name the only word in the English language that ends in mt.

Answer is in the post above.

Sox-Mariners again

So conflicting. Can't they both win?

Aporkalypse Now: The Latest Hamdemic

When Henry was a small boy, the whole house went through an unpleasant bout of pink-eye. First he had it, then of course Daddy-Mark and I got it. I remember it was right before Christmas because we were too scary-looking to go to any holiday parties. Then a few weeks later, Henry was complaining of a muscle ache one night, and declared he had “pink neck.”  It’s one of those cute kid sayings that enters the family vernacular.

I thought of this recently while thinking about swine flu. (I couldn’t actually recreate that train of thought again, so don’t ask.) Everyone except Egypt now knows that pigs got a raw deal in this pandemic by being blamed for the new strain of virus. (FYI: Officials in Egypt ordered destruction of all 300,000 of the country's pigs. In related news, Afghanistan's one known pig was quarantined. I am not kidding.) Pigs are being dragged through the mud, so to speak.  We already have chicken pox and mad cow disease. What animals will be blamed for our illnesses next? Camel cancer? Hippo hepatitis?  It’s unfair, I tell you.

Meanwhile, remember to disinfect your sty and cover your snout with your hoof when you cough.

The boredom of boredom

I am soooo bored.

I don't get depressed, I get bored. Boredom is my nemesis. "Boah, boah, boah" as Katherine Hepburn said. (Quick: name the movie.) Or technically, dysthemia, as I discussed in a previous post.

I'm one of those people who has to be working on a project. Not just a little "project," but a big life-changing absorbing overwhelming passion, or I get bored.

My bookshelves chart the projects I've been consumed with in the last twenty years: books about:

art
scuba
sailboats
Oregon
dog training
climbing
homebuilding
landscaping
Buddhism
adopting
child-rearing
self employment
personal growth
turning 50
and
knitting.

It's a bad sign that I can't think of any books I want to buy or check out from the library. Nothing, no project in my sights, no curiosity, i.e.: no passion.

As a long-time therapy student, I understand that "projects" are a way of distracting myself from the existentialism of life. As a Buddhist, I know I need to just sit, accept, be. But, it's so boring!!

My relationship had passion. Nothing like never-ending drama for keeping life interesting.

Eventually, another passion will make itself known. And you'll hear about it first, my faithful readers. But in the meantime, I'm really bored.

Ignite yourself

[From Jen, a friend and fellow blogger:]

"If you had five minutes on stage what would you say? What if you only got 20 PowerPoint slides and they rotated automatically every 15 seconds?

 Around the world people have been putting together “Ignite” nights to share their answers. Visit the Ignite Bend website to find out more about local events. More information about Ignite Events held around the world can be found at O’Reilly’s Ignite website.

The local website goes on to say: "topics range from tech to gardening to current events. It’s fast, it’s fun, it’s theater/concert/stand-up all rolled into one! At Ignite Bend #1, speakers talked about Legos, social media, karma, acronyms, and more..."

So, there's the plug: it's June 4 for all you Central Oregonians.Check it out.

The concept is very similar to Henry's fourth-grade class assignment last week: Pick a topic of interest about an invention or idea and give a 3-minute speech with visuals. Henry picked the zipper, which meant that I've learned more than you can imagine about the history of zipper design. Fascinating stuff. Maybe that could be my Ignite Bend topic. Or maybe I should talk about chicken sweaters.Or how (not) to build a water feature by yourself with no skills or equipment.

What would you pick to speak about, if this was your assignment?

A single mother's day

1. Fed dogs, cats, fish and Henry
2. Did laundry
3. Epoxy'ed front gate screws
4. Raked one of 7 garden beds
5. Made Henry lunch
6. Felt sorry for self
7. Picked up dog poop
8. Made Henry sweep the decks and wash the porch chairs
9. Wet-vacced out the scummy pond
10. Patched liner again
11. Repaired the hoses
12. Filled and watched the waterfall
13. Realized it was still slowly leaking
14. Went inside, poured some wine and watched the Red Sox
15. Kissed my sweet boy goodnight

Amaryllis of the day

striped amaryllis, originally uploaded by Meltrier.

This is probably the most spectacular one yet.

Though it's labeled "Ludwig Dazzler, a brilliant white," it clearly isn't. I'll have to do some research.

Update: it's "United Nations" if anyone out there is interested...

Summer camp crazies, one more time

Once again, I find myself reviewing a year-old post and realizing that nothing has changed in the intervening time. This is about registering Henry for summer camps.

As a working single parent, I have to book him for twelve weeks of activities this summer. At an average of $160 a week, it adds up quickly. To avoid the hell of standing in line this year, you can register on-line for a mere 6% more, which also adds up.

Here's last year's post on the subject, comin' round again:

Hell no, I won't go.

"I can't face getting up at 4 am Sat. to stand in line to sign Henry up for the Bend Parks & Rec summer programs. The doors open at 7, so to get your choices, you truly have to line up at 5. 5 AM outside, that is. It's cold and dark and miserable. We huddle in chairs and blankets, wearing our ski gear, waiting it out. Many jokes about how a few years ago, it would have been for concert tix.

Just as bad is the upcoming signup for Kids Inc, the before/after-school care BPR runs in the local schools. Great program, limited space. Last year I got in line at 5, and people were camped out from the night before. It was miserable, boring, cold and damp under the trees at Hollinshead Barn. I love our Parks & Rec for the incredible job they do with programs, parks and trails. But there's GOT to be another solution for this registration fiasco. What it does is reward the most determined, obsessive, clued-in parents who are able to stand in line for hours those mornings. Those who aren't in the know, are new to town or don't have the resources to get there early are screwed for summer camps or childcare for the school year."

Old relationships never die...

Maybe the best way to end something is to not end it at all, but just let it fade away, as the old song goes.

We so much want "closure" in this world. The last scene, a final act, the curtain drops, the lights go out, it's over now. But maybe that's not the way the natural world works. Instead, that "finality" is actually an artificial construct, a directed vision of how we think things should end.

Often when we speak of closure, we really mean another chance to interact. Often, closure just gives us the opportunity to open things again. We're still feeding the beast.

To allow things to just wind down and peter out seems weak, indecisive. But it is an action, and possibly the most final one you can make.

I'm not sure. I'm just saying.

Knit one purl one; pass it on.

I've taught two people to knit successfully.

The first was a 15-yr old boy who lived across the street. What motivated him to learn were the other snowboarder guys who were crocheting hats on the bus to the mountain. Seriously. He would watch out his window to see when I was home from work and come over with his yarn and needles. He caught on quickly and we progressed through the steps to start on his first hat. Every couple of nights he'd appear at my door with a dropped stitch or other little goof he'd need me to fix, then go back home and knit. He finished his hat and we moved on to slipper socks. He had a grand plan of producing slipper socks and selling them to fellow students. He even got orders, but eventually other things intervened, like girls and a driver's permit. He's way too cool now to knit, but you never know, someday...

The other student I had was PJ, my boss at the time and a great friend. We'd work on her knitting at lunch hour. We got a lot of bemused looks and curious comments - knitting was not really that hip at the cellphone company. She started with a scarf and went on from there, joining the knitting group and becoming a masterful knitter. Here's her latest project:

I can't tell you how impressed I am with this.  I've been knitting for a thousand years and haven't gotten to where she is with this sweater. I will take the credit for starting her off, though. I hope that she'll teach two others and pass it on.

I'm not an agoraphobe - I just don't leave the house.

I have a reputation among my close friends as a regular no-show at social events, even when I've assured them I'm going to be there. It's clearly deserved - I've become a hermit. I just want to stay home these days.

I don't know why, and it worries me a little. Depression, social phobia, agoraphobia? None of those seem likely given the pharmacy of meds I take. I'm comfortable in groups, social, outgoing and chatty - you would never call me an introvert. I used to love going out. So what's going on?

I have two parties to go to this evening, and I'm dreading both. And these are very casual, fun events with good friends and kids - Henry would come with. I've told everybody we're coming, and back when I was invited, I really thought they'd be fun. But it tires me just to think about putting out all that social energy, and I am trying to think up excuses to stay home.

My only explanation is that I'm constantly "on" at work; talking, collaborating, negotiating, being up and positive and helpful. So I just want to withdraw evenings and weekends. The line I use on Henry is "you always have fun once you get there" and it's probably true. But honestly, I'd rather stay home, cook an interesting dinner, watch a movie with H and knit.

Is that so wrong???