Superglue and the shattering of expectations
April 13, 2011
The old folk at the Ace Hardware think I sniff glue. LOTS of glue. They’re amazed my brain hasn’t exploded.
Yet.
Maybe I should explain.
Els
April 6, 2011
Wonderful artist and really nice person Els VandenEnde died last night.
I met her exactly eight times in my entire life and each time she greeted me like a long-lost friend. We corresponded more online than in person, and always meant to get together but somehow never really did.
There’s a term I use for work that’s physically as well as visually rich, one I stole from fiber artists: “Good to the hand.” Els’ work was always good to the hand–it visually filled the eye with intriguing colors and patterns, made you want to touch…and when you did, it satisfied there, too.
The painter
April 4, 2011
“Would you like to sit here?” a quavering voice asked.
The little breakfast joint–which served an egg- and cheese-filled breakfast guaranteed to explode your arteries–was jammed to the gills, with more folk waiting for a table. I looked down and saw a sadly smiling grey-haired woman, sitting with a plumper edition of herself, a girl in her late 20s. She gestured at the empty seat beside her.
I accepted with alacrity; it was clear that otherwise I’d be waiting an hour or more for my breakfast.
Cookie monstrous
March 14, 2011
“Wanna buy some cookies?”
She’s standing with her mom at the entrance to the grocery store, snugly bundled against the rain, reminding me that it’s Girl Scout cookie season. Stacks and stacks of cookie boxes weigh down her table and an artfully handmade sign–COOKEZ 4 SAIL!–proclaims that she’s open for business.
I gulp and stiffen the ol’ backbone. I don’t need ANY cookies, not even those peanut-buttery ones, or the sweetly tangy lemon–STOP IT CYNTHIA!
Besides, my neighborhood scout-lettes will eagerly sell me a box or dozen. Buying cookies from the neighborhood is mandatory where I live; I’d probably have to sneak strangers’ cookies in under cover of darkness. [Read more]
Uwajimaying
February 20, 2011
Saturday. A dragon’s flying over the cash register and out in the parking lot the drivers are totally bloody nuts. Must be Uwajimaya.
Uwajimaya is the local Japanese grocery chain, but it’s more like an Asian Costco; inside, there’s a bookstore, homewares, appliances, all sorts of things.
Bird flue
February 7, 2011
DISCLAIMER: I swear I am NOT making this up. I swear.
“Did you know,” said Tami, “That your bird just set off the burglar alarm?”
Tami is a friend who also happens to clean my house every couple of weeks. We’ve known each other for years, we trade arttalk (she’s a skilled painter and concrete sculptor), and occasionally we grab lunch or share farmer’s market stuff or something. I think she believes that I come from another planet, but in her view that just makes things more interesting.
Coaches can cry
January 12, 2011
Glassland is either jubilant or downcast because the Ducks didn’t win on Monday night. The emotional confusion stems from the sadness of losing a championship despite the thrilling honor of being asked to play in the first place. Apparently.
I’m pretty sure they were playing football, but that’s about all I know; I’m not the world’s biggest follower of team sports. I haven’t been since the age of eleven, when I found out that coaches can cry.
Nate
December 23, 2010
“Would you please put a sock in it?” I called wearily, “It’s 4:00 in the morning, Nate!”
Whatever Nate was doing in the living room obviously was more important than my good night’s rest; the banging and tinkling noises had been going on for awhile. I finally went downstairs and turned on the lights. ALL the lights.
Didn’t even slow him down.
“Stop that this instant,” I barked, “or I’m buying the INhumane trap, I swear.”
That did it. Silence descended, and Nate apparently went back to bed. So did I.
A mouse in the house
December 20, 2010
Jane Goodall and I have a lot in common.
I’d have made a pretty good wildlife scientist, living alongside my furry, tick-ridden subjects, eating the same food they eat, sharing their miseries–drenching rain, biting gnats and hungry tigers. In fact, I’d probably be doing that right now if room service wasn’t so sketchy in the jungle.
I have developed some methods for dealing with wildlife, however, first of which is never invite it into the house. That makes the mouse in my living room a bit of a problem.
Reversal
November 19, 2010
Sure sign you’re becoming a fixture at Starbucks: The barrista smiles, says, “Hi Cynthia!” and holds up a paper cup with my name and the only Starbucks drink I know (grande mocha) already written on the side.
“I think this means I’m coming in here too much,” I joke.
“No,” she retorts, “It means I have a good memory.”
Starbucks, though, is joining my pantheon of favorite people-watching places. Hanging out in there, waiting for my order, is almost as good as watching a movie.