Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
30.6.10
Kitchen Revision
Novelist Mark Tiedemann updates his kitchen and, in the process, discovers new counter space and more functional cabinetry. Cooking with gas!
19.2.09
Perennial
Noted, today: the year's first perennial shoots have pushed through the winter mulch. It's not so much that hope springs eternal, or even that spring does, but that perennials just are the gardener's great friends -- not necessarily showy or fancy, but the ones who come through again and again.
16.12.08
Some Good News
USA Book News selected Samuel Shem's THE SPIRIT OF THE PLACE (which I reviewed here) as the best book of 2008 in the general fiction category. Hooray! It's great to see a book get the attention it deserves. I'm also selfishly glad about this, because I loved the book, too, and it's nice to have one's passions confirmed. It is the sort of thing that makes crazy love seem not so crazy after all.
Sometimes I think publishing just is passion.
Anyhoo.
Another book on the list, First Snow in the Woods, which took first place in children's books, is on its way to my house as I type. At least from the marketing material, the book seems to fits with some (still vague and ill-formed) ideas I've had lately, about kids and nature, and overparenting as a form of neglect.
This has something to do with the development of a capacity to be "at home" while "away," to be at home in the world; and also, just as crucially, especially at mid-life, the capacity to feel like home can still be excitingly undiscovered territory. (This is harder than it sounds.)
The poet and animal trainer Vicki Hearne talks about the necessary and reciprocal and mutually enriching relationship that can obtain between "home" and "away," the quest and the hearth. It seems to me that one could make a good case for hothouse kids as one symptom of a larger, related poverty, a poverty of epic, in our ideas of the good life. More specifically, I mean a lack of resources that would help to make sense of perfectly ordinary but underappreciated qualities that one often finds in "unruly" or difficult-to-domesticate personalities, which is to say in people with affinities for epic, like sincere enthusiasm and largeness of heart and vulnerability to being impassioned.
Shem's novel has much to say about this as well, but in an more complicated way -- how sometimes leaving home can (alas) be pretty much the same as not leaving, and how sometimes coming back can precipitate a greater revolution of consciousness than going away.
Sometimes I think publishing just is passion.
Anyhoo.
Another book on the list, First Snow in the Woods, which took first place in children's books, is on its way to my house as I type. At least from the marketing material, the book seems to fits with some (still vague and ill-formed) ideas I've had lately, about kids and nature, and overparenting as a form of neglect.
This has something to do with the development of a capacity to be "at home" while "away," to be at home in the world; and also, just as crucially, especially at mid-life, the capacity to feel like home can still be excitingly undiscovered territory. (This is harder than it sounds.)
The poet and animal trainer Vicki Hearne talks about the necessary and reciprocal and mutually enriching relationship that can obtain between "home" and "away," the quest and the hearth. It seems to me that one could make a good case for hothouse kids as one symptom of a larger, related poverty, a poverty of epic, in our ideas of the good life. More specifically, I mean a lack of resources that would help to make sense of perfectly ordinary but underappreciated qualities that one often finds in "unruly" or difficult-to-domesticate personalities, which is to say in people with affinities for epic, like sincere enthusiasm and largeness of heart and vulnerability to being impassioned.
Shem's novel has much to say about this as well, but in an more complicated way -- how sometimes leaving home can (alas) be pretty much the same as not leaving, and how sometimes coming back can precipitate a greater revolution of consciousness than going away.
11.12.08
Writers' Rooms
Photographer Eamonn McCabe has done a series on writers' rooms.
I have always enjoyed photographing loners. When I was covering sport it was boxers in their gyms. Now I'm older, I enjoy photographing writers, poets and artists. The one thing they all have in common is that they work alone.
I have always enjoyed photographing loners. When I was covering sport it was boxers in their gyms. Now I'm older, I enjoy photographing writers, poets and artists. The one thing they all have in common is that they work alone.
9.11.08
Bechdel's Rule
If a movie doesn't have at least two women in it, who talk to each other, about something other than a man, it's not worth seeing. Apparently this rule is thirty years old. I have managed to miss it entirely. This may explain, however, my general and longstanding antipathy to the available fare in mainstream movie theaters.
As usual, Bitch Phd has a good post about why the dialogue part matters. In a nutshell: Dialogue is where the narrative heavy-lifting happens. When characters are talking, they are explaining motivations, broadly construed -- the principles that order and produce meaning inside the universe of the film. As BPhD says, "They are illuminating the world they live in by describing it." What isn't discussed remains outside the order of the film because doesn't make sense within the film's universe. Having women talk to each other onscreen about something other than a man -- how refreshing! So many novel narrative possibilities open up.
(Discovered this material while surfing the internet, longing to find the wherewithal to do some actual work. I am unconfident these days, the person at the end of the diving board who keeps pacing back and forth, who can't summon the nerve to make the leap into the water. Do I owe you email? I will get back to you tomorrow. Today I'm working on getting into the swim, as they say.)
As usual, Bitch Phd has a good post about why the dialogue part matters. In a nutshell: Dialogue is where the narrative heavy-lifting happens. When characters are talking, they are explaining motivations, broadly construed -- the principles that order and produce meaning inside the universe of the film. As BPhD says, "They are illuminating the world they live in by describing it." What isn't discussed remains outside the order of the film because doesn't make sense within the film's universe. Having women talk to each other onscreen about something other than a man -- how refreshing! So many novel narrative possibilities open up.
(Discovered this material while surfing the internet, longing to find the wherewithal to do some actual work. I am unconfident these days, the person at the end of the diving board who keeps pacing back and forth, who can't summon the nerve to make the leap into the water. Do I owe you email? I will get back to you tomorrow. Today I'm working on getting into the swim, as they say.)
6.7.08
27.6.08
Good thing my blood pressure's 90/60.
Once a week, I get an eco-bag full of vegetables from a farm in East Greenwich. The veggies are local, fresh, organic, and they don't require a jumbo jet's worth of fuel to get to Providence. But I have no control over what's in the bag or how much. This is a problem when I've got, say, a bagful of spinach, a pile of dandelion greens, 25 radishes and a handful of sugar snap peas. Sometimes, the farm distributes recipes, which helps with the cooking dilemma. But mostly I'm on my own. So I've devised some flavor rubrics and a method: chop, slice or otherwise transform the vegetables into bite-size pieces and throw them in a pan with some hot olive oil and...
Salt, lemon, pepper.
Salt, garlic, basil.
Salt, cilantro, cumin, turmeric, coriander.
Salt, salt, salt.
I could toss the result with pasta or rice (maybe add a chopped tomato). Or put it all in the food processor and have tapenade. A can of beans could be added in either case, for more protein. Or grilled chicken. The point is to get a method together that will result in reliably good, easy-to-make meals even when the farm sends an unusual vegetable ...
To be perfectly honest, the radishes make me a little crazy. I have no idea what to do with them.
Salt, lemon, pepper.
Salt, garlic, basil.
Salt, cilantro, cumin, turmeric, coriander.
Salt, salt, salt.
I could toss the result with pasta or rice (maybe add a chopped tomato). Or put it all in the food processor and have tapenade. A can of beans could be added in either case, for more protein. Or grilled chicken. The point is to get a method together that will result in reliably good, easy-to-make meals even when the farm sends an unusual vegetable ...
To be perfectly honest, the radishes make me a little crazy. I have no idea what to do with them.
19.6.08
I write on walls.
You can, too. All it takes is a good line, some letters, krazy glue (of course!) and -- this is very important -- a level.
17.6.08
Housework in the News
CNN reports that doing housework is sexy (if you're a man).
The NYT has a long article on housework sharing, too. The most complicated part of the problem is that, due to prevailing and confused norms about gender roles, women tend to make decisions about jobs and partners that do not, in the long run, favor equal sharing of household tasks. Here is the saddest line: There comes a point where the origin of the cards you hold becomes irrelevant, and you have to play the hand you are dealt.
The NYT has a long article on housework sharing, too. The most complicated part of the problem is that, due to prevailing and confused norms about gender roles, women tend to make decisions about jobs and partners that do not, in the long run, favor equal sharing of household tasks. Here is the saddest line: There comes a point where the origin of the cards you hold becomes irrelevant, and you have to play the hand you are dealt.
12.6.08
The Alice Ball House in New Canaan
Recently the NYT carried a story about the plans afoot to demolish a historic mid-century house designed by Philip Johnson in New Canaan, CT. Even the local preservationist, who is generally unhappy with the idea of demolition, can't quite think his way out of the McMansion mindset.
"This is a space that has to be experienced directly," said Gregory Farmer, a preservationist at the Connecticut trust, which lists the Ball house as one of the state’s most threatened treasures, "a space that’s experienced at a very personal level rather than something that’s very impressive to someone passing by on the street. Driving by, it looks like nothing."
Driving by? It looks like nothing? See, this is the problem. These people don't live in actual neighborhoods. They live in houses on roads. And "curb appeal" refers to the impression you get as you zoom past each house in your SUV. Grr.
"This is a space that has to be experienced directly," said Gregory Farmer, a preservationist at the Connecticut trust, which lists the Ball house as one of the state’s most threatened treasures, "a space that’s experienced at a very personal level rather than something that’s very impressive to someone passing by on the street. Driving by, it looks like nothing."
Driving by? It looks like nothing? See, this is the problem. These people don't live in actual neighborhoods. They live in houses on roads. And "curb appeal" refers to the impression you get as you zoom past each house in your SUV. Grr.
9.6.08
27.5.08
On the Other Hand
Of the dozen rose bushes I planted earlier this spring, eleven have "taken." Each has or promises to have four or five big buds, which -- I know, I shouldn't count my roses before they've bloomed -- means perhaps forty blossoms. Yay.
The basil, cilantro, lavender and thyme are coming along. The daisies, likewise. Hostas, irises, even the first-year peonies are all doing wonderfully. Still no shoots from the three sisters patch, but I'm hopeful.
The basil, cilantro, lavender and thyme are coming along. The daisies, likewise. Hostas, irises, even the first-year peonies are all doing wonderfully. Still no shoots from the three sisters patch, but I'm hopeful.
24.3.08
21.1.08
Not Just For Doorstops Anymore
Fresh green idea for broken external drive: turn it into a secret storage box.
15.1.08
Some Great Green Ideas
Turn styrofoam packing peanuts into a cute new beanbag chair. (From Danny Seo, Daily Danny.
Stuart Haygarth's Tide Chandelier, made from plastic junk that washes up on the beach.
Stuart Haygarth's Tide Chandelier, made from plastic junk that washes up on the beach.
8.1.08
Krazy! Glue!
Note to self: Next time something gets wobbly or broken, before you even think about calling the handyman -- the very thought of whom will send you into months of desperate procrastination -- TRY A DROP OF KRAZY GLUE.
Have just fixed many weird and wobbly items throughout the house with about ten drops of the stuff. Marvelous. Now the whole house feels more solidly put together. Formerly wobbly or crooked things are perfectly straight and tight.
I am a krazy kompulsive person, yes, yes, I am.
Have just fixed many weird and wobbly items throughout the house with about ten drops of the stuff. Marvelous. Now the whole house feels more solidly put together. Formerly wobbly or crooked things are perfectly straight and tight.
I am a krazy kompulsive person, yes, yes, I am.
19.12.07
Aesthetic of the Mended
In the interest of keeping stuff out of the landfill, I've been trying for some years now to stretch the useful lifetimes of our belongings by repairing things rather than replacing them.
Repairs are time-consuming and sometimes cash-costly, too. My cobbler wanted (and got) $45 to replace the heels and soles of my six-year-old boots. You can buy new (cheap) boots for just a little more.
Jane's clothes routinely fall apart. I suspect most kids' clothing manufacturers assume kids will outgrow their stuff faster than it will disintegrate and they set their production standards accordingly.
Thing is, with all this mending and repairing, we look a little ... mended and repaired. I think, actually, that this is okay. Matt has "work clothes" that look fine. And my work doesn't require me to look like Jackie O.
But I have a new appreciation for my grandmother's insistence on taking obsessive care of one's things. "Keep it nice," she always said. Because fifty years ago, it was Wrong to Throw Things Away if you hadn't worn the hell out of it. Not a bad way to go, if you ask me - but it takes some doing. Including the mental work of resisting the social push for new looking things.
Repairs are time-consuming and sometimes cash-costly, too. My cobbler wanted (and got) $45 to replace the heels and soles of my six-year-old boots. You can buy new (cheap) boots for just a little more.
Jane's clothes routinely fall apart. I suspect most kids' clothing manufacturers assume kids will outgrow their stuff faster than it will disintegrate and they set their production standards accordingly.
Thing is, with all this mending and repairing, we look a little ... mended and repaired. I think, actually, that this is okay. Matt has "work clothes" that look fine. And my work doesn't require me to look like Jackie O.
But I have a new appreciation for my grandmother's insistence on taking obsessive care of one's things. "Keep it nice," she always said. Because fifty years ago, it was Wrong to Throw Things Away if you hadn't worn the hell out of it. Not a bad way to go, if you ask me - but it takes some doing. Including the mental work of resisting the social push for new looking things.
8.11.07
One-Hour Thanksgiving
Recipes just in case you're in a rush. The folks at Shelterrific gave it a whirl. Verdict: Just dandy.
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