By way of amusing and alerting you, a recent mini-adventure and a warning. The warning - watch where you put your own and only feet or wear shoes all all all the time. The adventure - well, it all began on my way home on Monday. I had started knitting the first of a pair of lovely bright orange socks using cotton yarn and size 3 double point needles. I arrived home, read the mail, had some soup and salad, watched a little tv, then worked a couple of inches above the ribbing. I wanted a cup of tea so I put yarn and needles on the floor and stood up, then decided to take my water glass into the kitchen too. Ah, but the glass was riskily and dangerously on the side table. Risky? Dangerous? I reached for the glass and felt a sudden sharp pain in my (bare) foot. I would have said it was impossible but I had impaled my foot on one of the needles creating the sock. There it was, like an arrow on a dart board, quivvering between the second and third toes of my right foot. I kept staring in disbelief. Eventually I realized that no one else would rescue me so I had to pull the needle out - which felt pretty much the way you'd expect - you know how wood needles drag where metal and plastic needles glide smoothly? I thought about tetanus but decided wood knitting needles aren't rusty nails (right?). I lay down on the couch with my foot in the air, waiting for the pain to begin in earnest (although it never did hurt much at all which I still don't understand). All seems to have ended well in that my foot is still attached to my leg and no toes have fallen off. Thank heavens I didn't lance anything like a tendon, as a friend pointed out. Then again, when I picked up the sock to resume knitting and noted with relief that the sock seemed none the worse for wear, there was an odd piece of something dry and papery on about the top eighth of an inch of one of the needles. I wonder what it was (uh, no I don't).

Labels: fun, knitting

Pretty much my favorite couple of hours on tv each week is Darkness After Dawn on TCM at 8:00 a.m. each Saturday morning. The movies it shows are black and white, deliciously ominous, character-rich stories often with a sense of humor lurking just under the surface. The stars are a rafter of the utterly fabulous: Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, Robert Taylor Claire Trevor, Kent Smith, Edward G. Robinson, Ann Sheridan, Sydney Greenstreet. . . . The male lead is usually driven by motives that fairly scream 'bad guy' and the female lead is usually pretty, well-dressed and smart. Not smart enough to resist the obviously dubious charms of the bad guy, of course, but wise-cracking, independent and sharp. Lots take place in San Francisco whose bridges and charm play perfect counterpoint to the wry dialogue and plots. Don't miss one of the next few weeks' offerings:

Born To Kill - A murderer marries a young innocent then goes after her more experienced sister. Claire Trevor, Lawrence Tierney, Walter Slezak. Director: Robert Wise.
Nora Prentiss - An ambitious singer ruins a doctor's life. Ann Sheridan, Kent Smith, Bruce Bennett. Director: Vincent Sherman.
Johnny Angel - A sailor sets out to solve his father's murder. George Raft, Claire Trevor, Signe Hasso. Director: Edwin L. Marin.
High Wall - Psychiatry provides the key to proving a veteran flyer innocent of his wife's murder. Robert Taylor, Herbert Marshall, Audrey Totter. Director: Curtis Bernhardt.
Conflict - A man murders his wife so he can be free to marry her sister. Humphrey Bogart, Alexis Smith, Sydney Greenstreet. Director: Curtis Bernhardt.
Ride The Pink Horse - A con man tries to blackmail a Mexican gangster. Robert
Montgomery, Wanda Hendrix, Thomas Gomez. Director: Robert Montgomery.

Labels: movies

Did I just say to myself how much I like working in a large firm?! Can I be serious? Well, yes, I can be and I am. I've worked in small firms and non-profits, and they can be interesting and important. . .but they're missing things, too. For example, when you work among hundreds of people every day you get tons of different ideas and points of view. For example, in the lunch line today I admired a friend's fish entree and mentioned that I don't make fish very often at home because it's so smelly. She smiled and said, aha, her mother had the fix for that: just put some apples and cinnamon in a pot of water and boil. Now doesn't that sound absolutely wonderful?! I can't wait to go home and try it. And have some wine and raise a glass to life in a large company, while inhaling blissfully.

Labels: food

I keep hoping to sort out my thoughts and feelings about the Schiavo situation by hearing and reading what other people say. Although I remain utterly baffled by what everyone is doing, I am increasingly impressed by how thoughtful (most of) those who write about it are. We're one amazing bunch of people, we who are willing to put our thoughts on virtual paper. The guy I'm quoting here focuses on the mess that the legal people made and I have to say I agree with him, which I really regret because I admire many extraordinarily bright and insightful lawyers. His is a sassy and probably not incorrect assessment of one aspect of the situation (click here if you'd like to read more of his musings about the Constitution, law, religion . . . the whole shebang):

Sad, isn’t it, about our legal system? I never knew that there was such a judicial protectionist racket going on there. I should have paid closer attention, I suppose, so as not to be disappointed. Still, not a single bit of backbone to be found to say “Whoa, let’s take a look.” This is America, after all, and you just kind of expect that someone will throw a spanner in the works just to be difficult. Not here, though, not in this case. Not one renegade, not one maverick, not one brave bastard in the bunch. Just a weedy gray mass of indifference in one big black robe making sure that the i’s are dotted, the t’s are crossed, and then off with ye to the boneyard. I guess that original judge in the guardianship case that the other 31 are backing up 110% must be the smartest [expletive] on the planet.

Labels: reflections

Today is the anniversary of the 1937 establishment of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC on the National Mall between Third and Seventh Streets at Constitution Avenue, NW. It's truly a wonderful fabulous fantastic not-to-be-missed refreshing place for the mind, soul and eyes. Its online display is superb, too, so go visit today, here! And don't miss its physical and/or virtual store either.

Labels: things to do

The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain;
And then those little anodynes
That deaden suffering,
And then to go to sleep
And then, if it should be,
The will of its Inquisitor
The liberty to die!

Labels: reflections, writing

There are no clear, good or easy answers or solutions in the Terri Schindler Schiavo situation. But here's what I want to know: why is Michael Schiavo still his wife's guardian? I always understood that even the least bit of personal benefit disqualifies someone from being a guardian. In this case it would seem far simpler and in everyone's less contentious and more productive interest to remove the husband and appoint a neutral guardian or her parents or siblings instead. Aside from whether he is or is not complicit in any way in the accident that caused his wife's condition, and aside from any other contentious issues, the following are facts about him:
-He moved on matrimonially-speaking several years ago, taking a new partner and having two children with her and, quite understandably, he wants to marry her.
-He has vested interests in Terri's death in that he could marry his partner as well as receive money from the long-ago (and unpublic) malpractice medical settlement.
-He fails to show kindness, compassion or even common understanding about his wife's parents' feelings, to such an extent that he barred them from seeing her on several occasions.
-His attorney has aggressively represented several right-to-die clients from which one can infer that he has an 'agenda' rather than a desire to resolve issues in a peaceful and loving way or to keep her alive.
-Perhaps most sadly, Mr Schiavo has categorically refused to permit his wife's parents to take her home to die, even though he insists that he is motivated solely by his personal understanding of his wife's feelings and best interests.

Here's the summary and point: (a) no one knows what she thinks or wants - as opposed to saying that they know, (b) she is cognitively unresponsive but not comatose or dead in any medically defined way, (c) family members are willing - eager - to care for her as long as she lives, (d) her current guardian wants to end her life and has vested interest in her death (remarriage at minimum, more pay-off from the malpractice suit at maximum), (e) starvation is a gruesome way to die and is not done to capital criminals or terminally ill animals and should not be done to human beings regardless of how sentient (or not) or vegetative they may be, (f) courts should not decide intensely personal matters but (g) courts should also not permit vested-interested guardians to make decisions for people so (h) Mr Schiavo should be removed as guardian and a neutral person or other family member appointed and then they - and the rest of us - can regroup thoughts and complex emotions, and perhaps heal a bit as we move on.
____________
Some interesting reading on this from various and differing writers at Townhall, Slate, blogs, etc.: Matt Towery, Thomas Sowell, Donald May, Cal Thomas, Dahlia Lithwick, William Saletan, Alan Sullivan, Charles Krauthammer (more to come).

Labels: reflections

I won't have to gather and articulate my thoughts on the sad Terri Schiavo situation because I can point you to Francis Poretto's thoughtful and thorough The Convergence Is Complete. He notes the conflicts and the pecuniary, ethical, emotional and medical 'sides', and the misery and agony involved. And how grand that he cites wonderful C.S. Lewis' That Hideous Strength. But listen, if there would truly be no going back from an action, wouldn't it be important to come up with an alternative or take no action at all? And while letting someone die can be a best – although awful – choice, how can dehydration be the right method if kindness and love motivate the choice? This is one of those moments when I wish I believed in the power of prayer. (Damn the pious hypocrites whose bitterness and nastiness destroyed my trust in religion.) On the other hand, I hope that those who do believe are going on and on and on, on behalf of everyone and everything involved.

Labels: juxtapositions, reflections

The March 13/14 meeting between Ashley Smith and Brian Nichols reads more like a literary and cinematic play book than a hostage crisis. What began as a rampage of violence in an Atlanta courthouse, all too familiar, continued as a nationwide manhunt for a man who was quietly and calmly moving among and around those looking for him. This story took its startling turn away from familiar patterns when Nichols forced his way into Smith's apartment in order to take a shower. And when Ashley Smith's bravery, calmness, focus, compassion, sincerity, humanity, and simply her graciousness began steering the story.

Read Alan Sullivan's reflective piece about "one peace-loving woman, bearing witness to Christ [who] helped calm a fugitive murderer." He notes that "Easter is at hand, and this story of redemption is something people passionately want to believe" and he points out that Nichols' need for a shower had enormous "symbolism associated with it" and that it would seem Nichols "was already yearning to be clean, in every sense." The symbolism is a little heavy but it's hard to resist or avoid, especially when you hear Smith's soothing voice. It's easy to understand her effect on Nichols as she "proceeded to read from the Bible and talk to the guilt-stricken criminal about the meaning of life."

In case there wasn't enough drama in the whole episode, add the fact that Smith had recently begun to emerge from a difficult adolescence and early adulthood. Her husband was stabbed to death four years ago, literally dying in her arms, and she'd been through other rough moments. In coming out of them, she'd begun reading Rick Warren's Purpose-Driven Life. She apparently asked Nichols if she could read to him from the book and he agreed. What a powerful image that is - the quiet young woman reading aloud to the angry, exhausted and miserable young man. Such a stark contrast to the horrors of the day before. He listened as Smith pointed out that he would have to be punished for what he had done. She never sweet-talked, never pretended things would turn out fine. She said he needed to turn himself in, needed not to kill anyone else. She said that God loves everyone, sinners as well as saints, Nichols too, not in spite of our sins but warts and all. Rarely have the tenets of trust in God been so vivid. It feels like being in the audience while divinity is playing on stage.

As for the title of today's entry, it comes from my mother, an indomitable optimist about the universe. She often repeated the phrase. The Smith and Nichols encounter would have made her very happy.

Labels: juxtapositions, modern culture

OK. Here's one. Out loud, say the colors that are shown (not the words they're spelling):
YELLOW BLACK BLUE BLACK GREEN RED ORANGE PURPLE GREEN ORANGE
Cool, huh? Apparently the right brain says the color but the left brain reads the word.

Update: Some people report having no trouble saying the color. I wonder what that means about them. Are they more rational and less creative? Less flexible andn more adaptive?.....???

Labels: fun

"[It was] mid-March. Outside my window the sun was shining. It wasn't spring yet but the snow was beginning to decay, and the sour smell of long-dried leaves bore the gentle promise of milder times."

Robert B. Parker, Cold Service, publ. 2005

Labels: books, weather, writing

Happy birthday to Barbie!! Hard to believe she's 46 today - she doesn't look a day over 18. (Her birthday party ideas and supplies are here.) She really should publish a book of her beauty secrets although I guess not having requisite body parts including skin might be part of her secret and would be hard for youth-seeking women to imitate.

Labels: anniversaries, fun, getting older

Hard to believe that Circuit Judge George Greer, the judge in the Terry Schiavo case, and Jim Morrison -- yes, that Jim Morrison -- have anything in common, right? Well, read this piece on Judge Greer's 2+ years at St. Petersburg Junior College. (In case, dear reader, you're unaware of the sitaution, Terry Schiavo's parents want to continue feeding their daughter, believing that starvation is a terrible way for her to die, whereas her former husband wants to stop feeding her and get away from the whole thing, which her parents are already more than willing to have him do as it is. I'm not sure what I think about the ethical and practical issues because it's a horrible situation with no one emerging well or happy no matter what happens, unless Terry stands up all healthy and fine which of course simply won't and can't happen.) Anyway, the Morrison-Greer story is a much needed note of hilarity.

Labels: reflections

Impressive new bi-weekly magazine published online by teens: Virtue Magazine. It's technically and graphically attractive and proof that you can be intelligent, aware, verbal and interesting when you're an adolescent - something I've maintained for years but which isn't always borne out by the populace. To give you an idea where it's coming from, and whatever one's own feelings about their topics, the articles in the current issue (#5) cover taxes, Hillary Clinton and radiometric dating. Give it a look.

Labels: blogs (others')

On one hand, it's great that a blogger has received credentials to attend White House briefings (see report, here). On another hand, I have a couple of bones to pick or at least rub a little. One is that it's always is best when trailblazers are above reproach. In this case, good grammar is essential for someone who will be read closely and critically, but he writes in today's entry ("Off to the White House") that "we appear to have awoken [sic] in time". Another bone I'm fussing with is to wonder how far into the mainstream bloggers ought to wade if they/we want to hold onto maximum usefulness and impact. Bloggers occupy a kind of "shadow journalism" role in much the same way as the party out of power in parliamentary government. While it's important to obtain information as first-hand as possible (which means being included in briefings is good), it is also key to maintain skepticism and steer clear of "in" groups (which means being included in the press corps is bad).

The elevated blogger, Garrett Graff, writes with energy and a certain amount of authority in his blog, fishbowlDC, self-described as "a gossip blog that focuses on D.C. media." But the blog has only been up since January which makes one wonder why he is the chosen one. My guess is that his lucky break results at least partly from an ability to persuade and nag until he gets what he wants - an undeniable skill, if not the most germane. To support my theory, consider that his bio says that "[i]n college, he was a news writer and executive editor at the Harvard Crimson...where he wrote more news articles than any other writer in half-a-century [sic] and held internships at ABCNews' Political Unit and at the Atlantic Monthly" and that "he served formerly as deputy national press secretary on Howard Dean's presidential campaign and, beginning in 1997, [as] then-Governor Dean's first webmaster."

Anyway, good luck to Garrett and may he maintain a sense of distrust and disbelief, resist disrespect and rudeness, and write words that are golden, forceful, interesting, and widely read.

Labels: blogs (others'), gwb, politics

Today's GB Shaw quote is fitting in the extreme. Do the words victimization, corporate crime, political correctness, family crime, etc., all rampant these days, sound familiar? Shaw says that recollection of the past may not make us wise, but it is the crucial first step. Knowledge is power and all that. But once we know how we got wherever we are, taking responsibility for the present and the future is the "it" step. Although many of us don't take it. Think about the woman who put her drive-in coffee cup between her thighs and got burned and sued for a gazillion dollars. Think about Ward Churchill who is the poster child for irresponsibility since he's not Indian, not an artist, not accurate in his name-calling analogies and cruel to top it off. Think about former President Clinton who played semantics to the beat of his own drum and wears his smile like armor. Think about Lawrence Sumner, the Harvard president who says he wanted to stimulate dialogue when he made ridiculous remarks about the differences between men and women and then went all-over naive about the effect his words had and then expressed surprise at the reaction. For a welcome variation on the theme, think about Martha Stewart who although maintaining verbal silence accepted the consequences of her actions calmly and with a certain amount of grace (and public relations). For something to worry about, think about the accusations made by the Italian journalist released today in Iraq; she denies any culpability in drawing the gunfire that injured her and killed her driver; anti-Americanism is one thing but believing that even rogue soldiers would spray bullets at a car just because it was there is foolish whereas Italian drivers are renowned for racing along and refusing to stop even for Alps (read here about the widening swirl of controversy). Anyway, there are many examples, public and private, and it would be lovely if we could generally fulfill our desires while still assuming responsibility for ourselves.

Labels: reflections, writing

Today the NY Times did something I've never seen in the decades I've been reading it. Which isn't to say they have never done it before, of course, just that I've never seen it before. They printed a correction to an editorial and put it in almost the same exact space that the mistake appeared. This is big. Really big.

Wow, you say. Gosh, what dreadful mistake was made to warrant such an embarrassment, you ask? Calm yourself, dear reader, sit down and hear the drum roll announcing something momentous ...... Okay, here's what it was: on Wednesday, an editorial observer column said that the phrase "mamase mamasa mamakosa" ends the Michael Jackson song "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" when in fact the phrase concludes the song entitled "Working Day and Night." There you are. What a huge blunder. How could they? It's no wonder they felt duty-bound to state the correction.

Two things puzzle me. Well, the whole entire thing puzzles me, but these specific things puzzle me specifically. First - although the Times often prints corrections, this is the first time (to my or several other people's knowledge) a correction appeared on the same page and in almost the same space that the mistake appeared. It's commendable but it's never happened before. Corrections' have a spot beneath the page 2 index, an indistinct place and in unhighlighted little paragraphs. Usually, unless you know something is wrong, it's lottery-level unlikely you'll know it's been corrected. Second - one wonders why this merited so much attention. Aside from the fact that the "Editorial Observer" column is a slightly elevated op-ed piece and therefore wouldn't seem to require a correction from the Grey Lady (do regular op-ed pieces merit corrections? I think not), it's hard to understand why it matters which Michael Jackson song ends with which ten syllables. Oh, wait! I bet I know! Jackson is a zillionaire and therefore an important part of the nation's economy, no matter his revolting personal behaviors (holding babies out of windows, skin grafts, grabbing his crotch a lot, etc.) or his possible criminal actions with children. You know, you'd think this implies that every gazillionaire's activities are vital facts to be gotten straight at all costs but I bet that's not true.

With any luck, this means that from now on, any and all mistakes made on the editorial pages will be corrected right there, the next day. I'm not holding my breath but my hat will be off to Jackson and I will be forever grateful to him, if so.

Labels: huh?, writing

Since the holidays are over, it's a good time to do a few projects for charity. There are zillions of shawl ministries around the country, donating shawls to babies in hospital nurseries, children on pediatric wards, and cancer patients. Read Lion Brand's page about them and maybe order their book with lots of appropriate patterns. Woolworks publishes a list of charity sites organized by state. Interweave has a page on their webiste called Knitting for a Better World listing literally hundreds of organizations that welcome knitted donations. And then there are specific deserving issues like the recent tsunami and now one that's just come to my attention called the Dulaan Project about helping keep extremely impoverished people warm in the upcoming frigid Mongolian winter; the Dulaan site includes patterns as well as other sites doing work for Mongolia. I was thinking it might be neat for knitting groups like mine at work, or regulars at local yarn stores, to donate as a group. Look at it this way: there's plenty of time to make stuff and give it away and make other people feel good which will make us feel good too.

Labels: knitting, modern culture