Nia is my exciting new discovery of the morning that I just have to share with everyone.
Nia stands for Neuromuscular Integrative Action and this is the latest exercise THING for me. Yes, I have found IT for the moment. A while back, I wrote about how I am now embracing new exercise fads and more recently about how I want to seek more outlets for creative expression. Well, Nia takes the cake for both of these.
I first experienced Nia a little over a month ago when I went to a breastfeeding and parenting conference. On the second day of the conference, this being Colorado, they had early morning exercise classes for those who must exercise each day. One of those early morning options was Nia. I had heard about Nia, but was a little intimidated to try it since I didn’t know what it was. (In fitness-obsessed Boulder it is easy to get in over your head.) But at this conference, most everybody was new to Nia so it seemed a safe place to give it a go.
I had a great time, so I asked around for good places to do Nia in Boulder, then picked up a schedule from one of them and finally, this morning, over a month later, I had time to give it a try. It was fantastic.
In the lobby they sold interesting clothes and jewelry and I was told the first class was free. I walked back into a dance studio painted a rich, dark red. The mirror-lined walls were draped with strings of lights. Candles sat on a railing. It was exotic and inviting. Not like the sparse gyms or yoga rooms where exercise classes are usually offered.
The instructor welcomed everyone and said that if anyone felt lost at any point and couldn’t grasp the movement, her advice was to not think too hard about it, but to just feel it, to make a kinesthetic connection. I liked that. It seemed easy to be transported away from your mind and into your body in this funky atmosphere. This wasn't about discipline or effort or skill, but about expression. There were no harsh lights or pictures of proper form.
Nia is like yoga, martial arts, and dance, with a good combination of structure and freedom. You could say it is also like aerobics, but it seemed to me that the aerobic exercise part of it was just a nice side effect of the movements: incidental, but not the goal. To me, it was like a really fun dance class where you were first guided a few times in a simple step, and then encouraged to embellish it and elaborate in your own way. It was everything I like about Yoga Booty Ballet but with more freedom.
Some of my favorite parts of the Nia class this morning were the parts that seemed to be based on martial arts. We punched, we kicked, we yelled, and nobody was judging us or watching us. I feel that it was a great kind of self-defense class, a great release, a chance to pretend to be something else. It reminded me of the one time I tried (and liked!) African dance. It was dynamic and expressive and powerful. I felt strong and good.
The music was interesting, funky, and varied: lots of world music and good dance beats. Sometimes the instructor would be didactic and tell us to “do this for four counts,” other times she would direct us to free dance. Mostly she would give more interesting directions like “follow your hands,” “open yourself,” or “melt.” There was no strict “technique” but more suggestions and images that pushed you in new directions. It was like being quickly taught a song, singing it together a few times, and then being encouraged to lose yourself in harmonies.
Basically, though, it was just dancing. So I ask myself, why don’t I just put on a CD and dance? I guess that would simpler. But it would be similar to saying, why don’t I just sing any old song or make up my own tunes? That just wouldn’t be the same. It was great to have the basic structure of the steps to work with and the atmosphere of the room and the other dancers to work off of. It was great to have the instructor telling me to do something specific and then telling me to do whatever I wanted. If I was just told to dance for an hour, I don’t know what I would do. I would get bored or get into a rut, but this was a perfect balance of structure and freedom. It was demanding and creative at the same time. I know with Yoga I can and do practice on my own, but I benefit immensely from a teacher and a more structured class. I do more in class, I have guidance, and I go farther.
Yoga is great and I hope will always be something I practice, but Yoga is more about discipline and correct form and structure. It too is about combining body and mind, but I would not say it is creative in the way that Nia is. I loved that creative part of Nia, it was like the missing link. A Pilates DVD that I have (thanks again Clare!) is presented by a female student of Joseph Pilates as the “true Pilates method.” She has something in there about how music should never be allowed into a “real” Pilates workout, that the movement should be “pure” and there should be no distractions. Oh bother! That was such a boring DVD! I was not motivated by it at all. As far as I could tell, it was full of strict, nearly impossible, “pure” movements, with a rigid, didactic instructor yelling at these perfect women to do better. Not for me. Not at least until I am a physical goddess like the women in that one!
But back to the wonderful Nia. To conclude my rant about how enthralled I am by this new-to-me discovery, and in case you still have no idea what I am talking about, I will close with the description of Nia given by its founders, Debbie and Carlos Rosas. Their description is still vague (you really have to try it to understand), but it rings true to me, and at least then you have it from the horse’s mouth:
Nia is a personal growth, mind-body-spirit fitness program. It is a "living system," that works with the natural wisdom and intelligence of the body, mind, spirit and emotions. Nia supports the Pleasure Principle: If it feels good keep doing it, if it hurts, stop! The blueprint of Nia is practical, experiential, and focuses on internal guidance to change and develop awareness. Process oriented, the format is user-friendly. Nia empowers students and teachers to make their own movement choices by offering students a flexible structure they can personally modify to suit their needs. Nia combines a diverse blend of Eastern and Western movements, concepts and philosophies from the worlds of the healing arts (love), martial arts (mindfulness), and dance (technique). Nia reaches people emotionally, in their hearts, motivating them to get fit and healthy by creating a deep personal desire to explore their potential and love their growth. Fitness, health, well-being, and self-love naturally result from the magnetic Nia experience. What makes Nia so innovative is its unlimited adaptability. Not only can people of all kinds participate, but a wide range of therapeutic, wellness, self-growth and educational models can effectively integrate Nia.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Boston
I'm back from my fantastic, refreshing, 48-hour jaunt, and here are a few of the things I learned in Boston:
The T still uses quaint tokens, but now they're $1.25 each.
The buses cost 90¢. An amount that is confusing. But on some buses you pay when you get off, so cheapskates like me can count their change the whole time they are riding.
The landmark for Pine Street in Belmont (of B&K's new abode, THE destination for Saturday night) is a Beech tree.
It is pretty easy to do most of your Christmas shopping at one shop in Harvard Square between the T and the bus.
I really, really like spending time with old friends. It feels so right. (Okay, I already knew that, but it is nice to be reminded anew.)
There is now a Silver Line to Logan airport from South Station. Easy and convienient.
There is a day spa at terminal C, but late on Sunday night, it is not happening.
The grilled chicken salads at the airport Burger King are the same as the ones at Legal Seafood and the deli, but cost half as much.
Thanks, everyone, for such a great time! Let's do it again soon!
The T still uses quaint tokens, but now they're $1.25 each.
The buses cost 90¢. An amount that is confusing. But on some buses you pay when you get off, so cheapskates like me can count their change the whole time they are riding.
The landmark for Pine Street in Belmont (of B&K's new abode, THE destination for Saturday night) is a Beech tree.
It is pretty easy to do most of your Christmas shopping at one shop in Harvard Square between the T and the bus.
I really, really like spending time with old friends. It feels so right. (Okay, I already knew that, but it is nice to be reminded anew.)
There is now a Silver Line to Logan airport from South Station. Easy and convienient.
There is a day spa at terminal C, but late on Sunday night, it is not happening.
The grilled chicken salads at the airport Burger King are the same as the ones at Legal Seafood and the deli, but cost half as much.
Thanks, everyone, for such a great time! Let's do it again soon!
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Expressive urges
Cathy bravely picked me up from the airport at 5am and I spent the rest of Thursday night and Friday night chez Cathy and Stu who run a delightful bed and breakfast. I enjoyed seeing them and their place and was inspired by their sense of humor and the unique and beautiful collection of objects in their home.
Stu works in a museum and is a fan of folk art or "outsider art" (he himself being the great papier maché artist). It is difficult to separate art from consumerism these days, but something about that drive to create, no matter what, is so compelling to me. Especially now.
Some quotes from a book I found next to my guest bed called John Maizel's Raw Creation: Outsider Art and Beyond I think are worth sharing in a blog (blogs, after all, being their own form of creative self expression done mostly by “outsiders” or “nobodies,” alas!). The book begins with a discussion of what has been called "the art of the insane." As early as 1857, doctors and psychologists were collecting and discussing the art that came out of various mental institutions. First this was done to try to understand more about mental illness, but later it was used also to understand the drive to create.
One of these doctors, Hanz Prinzhorn, published an influential book in 1922 called Bidnerie der Geisteskranken (Artistry of the Mentally Ill) where he detailed his theory of the creative process. He ideas were based on his collection of visual art made by patients in institutions. He was convinced that "visual creativity was to be found not only in the realm of the cultured or the educated, but was an undeniable human trait, present within each of us from childhood onwards." He then came up with six basic human urges or tendencies that in combination could manifest themselves as different forms of artistry: the expressive urge, the playful or active urge, the decorative or ornamental urge, the ordering (rhythm and rule) urge, the copying urge, and the need for symbols." Prinzhorn rejected previous ideas that the art produced by those considered to be mad could somehow have different roots from the 'normal' creative process, arguing that all artistic expression stemmed from the same sources. ...He used the following analogy: As groundwater seeps to the surface and flows toward the stream in many rivulets, many expressive impulses run in many creative paths into the great stream of art. Neither historically nor according to psychological theory does there exist a beginning point. Instead there are many springs which finally transcend all life."
This caught my eye because there are certainly many creative impulses flowing through our house these days. Between the kid's drawings and creations, the house construction, and my own and Greg's thwarted attempts at creating papers or music or things, we are just one big, sometimes dammed up, river of creative energy. I like to think about this theory of six basic impulses and really give these urges the priority they are due, much in the same way that we value sleep and food. I like to think about expressing my urge to be decorative or ordered, or just expressing my expressing urge. It seems so necessary.
Another idea I noticed in the book is how soothing or calming this creative expression can be. There must be something about being in touch with these deep sources and creative urges that is fulfilling. One wood carver, who suffered paranoia and megalomaniacal delusions and had a violent streak, described how he followed some deep intuitions in his work: "When I have a piece of wood in front of me, a hypnosis is in it—if I follow it something comes of it, otherwise there is going to be a fight.” The word “hypnosis” is striking to me. It is the opposite of fighting. It is about following an intuition, an inner form in the wood, not necessarily planning or controlling, but “going with the flow.” That seems so soothing and productive to me. Something to strive for in many parts of life.
Then there is the story of Adolf Wolfli who lived from 1864–1930 and was institutionalized most of his life. When confined, he began drawing and made elaborate books with detailed, compulsive illustrations that told stories about his life. The drawing calmed him.
I was fascinated how his life story changed as he drew. I learned that in the first volumes of his autobiography he describes himself as a “naturalist, poet, writer, draughtsman, composer, farm labourer, dairy-hand, handyman, gardener, plasterer, cement-layer, railway worker, day-labourer, knife grinder, fisherman, boatman, hunter, migrant-worker, grave digger, and soldier of the third Section of the third company of the Emmenthal Battalion. Hooray!" By his last series of volumes, however, he has become "St Adolf II, Master of Algebra, Military Commander-in-Chief and Chief Music-Director, Giant-Theatre-Director, Captain of the Almighty-Giant-Steamship and Doctor of Arts and Sciences, Director of the Algebra and Geography-Textbook-Production Company and Fusilier General. Inventor of 160 original and highly valuable inventions patented for all time by the Russian Tsar and hallelujah the glorious victor of many violent battles against Giants."
Wow, that is quite a transcendence! It seem you can really redefine yourself through creative expression, even if only for a pretend audience.
Finally, to all you bloggers and others with creative urges, met or unmet, I'd like to point out that you do not have to be insane to be creative. Though Wolfli and others were both creative and afflicted with mental illness, that does not mean one is a necessary part of the other.
An alternative theory is that their confinement in institutions allowed them the time and opportunity to express a creativity that was there all along and that this expression calmed them and gave them feelings of purpose and empowerment. Elka Spoerri, curator of Adolf Wolfli's works concludes, "Although Wolfli was not active as an artist before the onset of his illness, he must be viewed as an artist who happened to become afflicted with psychosis. The illness did not awaken any creative capacities that were not already part of his personality. His social origins, however—his life of great poverty and social regimentation as an orphan, hireling and labourer—never permitted him even to think of becoming an artist. His entire life story proved as fateful as his illness and internment."
I am inspired by the ideas in this book. I am inspired to be an "outsider." I'm going to try to notice and to nurture and express creative impulses whether they be to draw, sculpt, organize, compose, write, dance, parent, garden, act, sew, play, build, etc. etc. I like this idea that different people have different combinations of urges and impulses, though we usually don't have the time or the freedom to express them fully. I also like the idea that it doesn’t matter who sees them. The bottom line is that indulging in these impulses feels good, balancing, and fulfilling, so I'm thinking I will try to notice them more and give them a higher priority and a little more expression in myself and in others: Rees' desire to move, Kadin's drawings and stories, Greg's music, your blogs, and so on.
Stu works in a museum and is a fan of folk art or "outsider art" (he himself being the great papier maché artist). It is difficult to separate art from consumerism these days, but something about that drive to create, no matter what, is so compelling to me. Especially now.
Some quotes from a book I found next to my guest bed called John Maizel's Raw Creation: Outsider Art and Beyond I think are worth sharing in a blog (blogs, after all, being their own form of creative self expression done mostly by “outsiders” or “nobodies,” alas!). The book begins with a discussion of what has been called "the art of the insane." As early as 1857, doctors and psychologists were collecting and discussing the art that came out of various mental institutions. First this was done to try to understand more about mental illness, but later it was used also to understand the drive to create.
One of these doctors, Hanz Prinzhorn, published an influential book in 1922 called Bidnerie der Geisteskranken (Artistry of the Mentally Ill) where he detailed his theory of the creative process. He ideas were based on his collection of visual art made by patients in institutions. He was convinced that "visual creativity was to be found not only in the realm of the cultured or the educated, but was an undeniable human trait, present within each of us from childhood onwards." He then came up with six basic human urges or tendencies that in combination could manifest themselves as different forms of artistry: the expressive urge, the playful or active urge, the decorative or ornamental urge, the ordering (rhythm and rule) urge, the copying urge, and the need for symbols." Prinzhorn rejected previous ideas that the art produced by those considered to be mad could somehow have different roots from the 'normal' creative process, arguing that all artistic expression stemmed from the same sources. ...He used the following analogy: As groundwater seeps to the surface and flows toward the stream in many rivulets, many expressive impulses run in many creative paths into the great stream of art. Neither historically nor according to psychological theory does there exist a beginning point. Instead there are many springs which finally transcend all life."
This caught my eye because there are certainly many creative impulses flowing through our house these days. Between the kid's drawings and creations, the house construction, and my own and Greg's thwarted attempts at creating papers or music or things, we are just one big, sometimes dammed up, river of creative energy. I like to think about this theory of six basic impulses and really give these urges the priority they are due, much in the same way that we value sleep and food. I like to think about expressing my urge to be decorative or ordered, or just expressing my expressing urge. It seems so necessary.
Another idea I noticed in the book is how soothing or calming this creative expression can be. There must be something about being in touch with these deep sources and creative urges that is fulfilling. One wood carver, who suffered paranoia and megalomaniacal delusions and had a violent streak, described how he followed some deep intuitions in his work: "When I have a piece of wood in front of me, a hypnosis is in it—if I follow it something comes of it, otherwise there is going to be a fight.” The word “hypnosis” is striking to me. It is the opposite of fighting. It is about following an intuition, an inner form in the wood, not necessarily planning or controlling, but “going with the flow.” That seems so soothing and productive to me. Something to strive for in many parts of life.
Then there is the story of Adolf Wolfli who lived from 1864–1930 and was institutionalized most of his life. When confined, he began drawing and made elaborate books with detailed, compulsive illustrations that told stories about his life. The drawing calmed him.
I was fascinated how his life story changed as he drew. I learned that in the first volumes of his autobiography he describes himself as a “naturalist, poet, writer, draughtsman, composer, farm labourer, dairy-hand, handyman, gardener, plasterer, cement-layer, railway worker, day-labourer, knife grinder, fisherman, boatman, hunter, migrant-worker, grave digger, and soldier of the third Section of the third company of the Emmenthal Battalion. Hooray!" By his last series of volumes, however, he has become "St Adolf II, Master of Algebra, Military Commander-in-Chief and Chief Music-Director, Giant-Theatre-Director, Captain of the Almighty-Giant-Steamship and Doctor of Arts and Sciences, Director of the Algebra and Geography-Textbook-Production Company and Fusilier General. Inventor of 160 original and highly valuable inventions patented for all time by the Russian Tsar and hallelujah the glorious victor of many violent battles against Giants."
Wow, that is quite a transcendence! It seem you can really redefine yourself through creative expression, even if only for a pretend audience.
Finally, to all you bloggers and others with creative urges, met or unmet, I'd like to point out that you do not have to be insane to be creative. Though Wolfli and others were both creative and afflicted with mental illness, that does not mean one is a necessary part of the other.
An alternative theory is that their confinement in institutions allowed them the time and opportunity to express a creativity that was there all along and that this expression calmed them and gave them feelings of purpose and empowerment. Elka Spoerri, curator of Adolf Wolfli's works concludes, "Although Wolfli was not active as an artist before the onset of his illness, he must be viewed as an artist who happened to become afflicted with psychosis. The illness did not awaken any creative capacities that were not already part of his personality. His social origins, however—his life of great poverty and social regimentation as an orphan, hireling and labourer—never permitted him even to think of becoming an artist. His entire life story proved as fateful as his illness and internment."
I am inspired by the ideas in this book. I am inspired to be an "outsider." I'm going to try to notice and to nurture and express creative impulses whether they be to draw, sculpt, organize, compose, write, dance, parent, garden, act, sew, play, build, etc. etc. I like this idea that different people have different combinations of urges and impulses, though we usually don't have the time or the freedom to express them fully. I also like the idea that it doesn’t matter who sees them. The bottom line is that indulging in these impulses feels good, balancing, and fulfilling, so I'm thinking I will try to notice them more and give them a higher priority and a little more expression in myself and in others: Rees' desire to move, Kadin's drawings and stories, Greg's music, your blogs, and so on.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Workers
The construction on the house is not so bad, really. I think what makes all the difference it that I actually like the people who are working on it. The contractor is friendly and very easy to talk to and work with; the carpenters are thoughtful, smart, considerate, tidy, and good at what they do, even if our political views differ. Other people come and go, but these are the steadies. The architect too is good and easy to talk to, so I actually look forward to meeting with these people. Today there was a crowd at the house: the concrete guy Steve, the HVAC guys Tom and Jerry, the drywall guy, etc. I am at the Laundromat doing loads of laundry because it is faster and QUIETER!
The cats love it because they have a dirt floor and the kids love it because there is a big open living room with nothing in it except scaffolding. It’s the perfect setup for boys and pets.
We had dinner at Greg's sister's the other night and Marcy, Greg's cousin who recently moved into a house nearby, was there as well. We were exchanging stories about workmen. Marcy is a very dynamic person who always makes it a point to compliment people and draw out their true nature. She told us how when workmen come, she talks to them about their lives. The result is that at least two have since quit their jobs to find their true path! For example, the security system guy was there and she was making conversation and asking him about his work. At one point she said something like, "It seems that you've made some decisions in life that have really locked you in." An astute observation. He was a security guy, after all. He told her she was right and, when she later called the company, she heard he had quit the next day. She helped free him but needed a new security guy.
My interaction with the workers is not quite so probing. I'm afraid I am not as helpful to them in the long run. I just say, "I am so glad you are here!" Maybe after they are getting close to finishing I can afford to help them find their true calling, but for now I want them here. Remodeling is an expensive hobby, though, so we can’t afford to keep it up for long.
The cats love it because they have a dirt floor and the kids love it because there is a big open living room with nothing in it except scaffolding. It’s the perfect setup for boys and pets.
We had dinner at Greg's sister's the other night and Marcy, Greg's cousin who recently moved into a house nearby, was there as well. We were exchanging stories about workmen. Marcy is a very dynamic person who always makes it a point to compliment people and draw out their true nature. She told us how when workmen come, she talks to them about their lives. The result is that at least two have since quit their jobs to find their true path! For example, the security system guy was there and she was making conversation and asking him about his work. At one point she said something like, "It seems that you've made some decisions in life that have really locked you in." An astute observation. He was a security guy, after all. He told her she was right and, when she later called the company, she heard he had quit the next day. She helped free him but needed a new security guy.
My interaction with the workers is not quite so probing. I'm afraid I am not as helpful to them in the long run. I just say, "I am so glad you are here!" Maybe after they are getting close to finishing I can afford to help them find their true calling, but for now I want them here. Remodeling is an expensive hobby, though, so we can’t afford to keep it up for long.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Dignity
The kitties are back and endearing themselves to us again. Rex is ever impulsive and ready to jump right in. He has never heard the phrase, "think before you act." Pearl is petite and poised and, as Greg says, "a normal cat." Rex is bigger and clumsier, but really doesn't seem to know that or care.
Stephen, the kitties’ foster father, told us how Pearl would like to jump up on the towel bar when Stephen was taking a shower. She was lithe and good at balancing, and she is tiny. Then Rex would try. He has these amazingly strong paws and arms from trying to clamber up cupboard doors and other improbable surfaces. He will just hang on when he has misjudged a jump. So he would miss the towel bar and hang on with a forelimb or two. It got to the point where the towel bar was coming off the wall, so Stephen had to keep them out of the bathroom.
Rex is the kind of cat who will happily jump into the shower and then be horrified and jump out again. The great part is, he takes it all in stride and doesn't seem to mind being clueless at all. As Greg put it, "you know that pride thing? Rex doesn't seem to have that." And as Stephen put it, "he's missing that feline sense of dignity." And I think that is why we all love him so.
Stephen, the kitties’ foster father, told us how Pearl would like to jump up on the towel bar when Stephen was taking a shower. She was lithe and good at balancing, and she is tiny. Then Rex would try. He has these amazingly strong paws and arms from trying to clamber up cupboard doors and other improbable surfaces. He will just hang on when he has misjudged a jump. So he would miss the towel bar and hang on with a forelimb or two. It got to the point where the towel bar was coming off the wall, so Stephen had to keep them out of the bathroom.
Rex is the kind of cat who will happily jump into the shower and then be horrified and jump out again. The great part is, he takes it all in stride and doesn't seem to mind being clueless at all. As Greg put it, "you know that pride thing? Rex doesn't seem to have that." And as Stephen put it, "he's missing that feline sense of dignity." And I think that is why we all love him so.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Hip openers
My hips were hurting, and had been for some time. I wasn't sure what it was, but as I was sitting in yoga class, warming up, I overheard another student ask the teacher why he had a hard time opening his hips. The teacher said, "Oh yes, hips are about moving forward in life. You might be having trouble moving forward in your life." Hmmm. Seemed a little presumptuous of her. Couldn't you just have tight hips? Last time, when I hurt my shoulder, it was my inability to open up and accept love. Now it was the hips and how did she know I was at a transition and trying to move forward in life? Well, she didn't, because this conversation had nothing to do with me, but what a coincidence, it was like she read my mind. The one place that felt sore and tight and yes, I do need to move forward in life.
I have been exercising more lately and exploring different yoga DVDs. Some of my favorites include Yoga Booty Ballet (thank you Clare!), which is a very LA sort of cross between yoga and ballet and every other exercise trend of the last decade. In some ways it seems cheesy and superficial, but on the whole it is good, exactly what I need right now. Reasonably interesting, well-rounded workouts with good variety—cardiovascular, weights, abdominals, stretching—and fun music and sets. Then there are the suggestions and adjustments for different ability levels, so I don't feel like a complete failure. Oh yes, and there are helpful affirmations interspersed throughout: "If you don't like what you're doing, change it!" "If you need to rest, rest." "Core strenth build strength of character." "I love myself, I trust myself; I will be myself."
Another yoga DVD features a woman named Rainbeau Mars, also from Hollywood and known as the "yoga teacher to the stars." (Thanks again, Clare!) Her workout is much more traditional yoga, very similar to the classes I take in Boulder. In fact, I wonder if she trained at the same studio. Her mother, Brigitte Mars, lives in Boulder and writes about herbs and nutrition. I met Brigitte at a local store when she sold me some peach-papaya lotion. Anyway, Rainbeau is all about achieving your potential and ultimate beauty. Hip openers definitely being a part of that. Her unique spin is that she sees being self-centered as an important part of your gift to the world. At the end of the workout, during a resting pose where you are lying on the floor like a five-pointed star, she says, "star pose is an opportunity...for deep relaxation...and to have...an active dream...starring...yourself...." Yes, it's all about me, me, me. But maybe in an okay way. She has certainly found her niche.
Finally, on the topic of moving forward in life, I heard a nice quote from BB King when he was interviewed on Fresh Air. He started in Memphis and then when he went to New York for the first time, his agent had some important advice for him. He said, "There will be so many people in New York who are better than you, smarter than you, more talented than you, more attractive than you. And they will be waiting tables. Don't try to be them. You will never be them. Be the one thing they are not: be yourself." It seems BB King took that advice, and I'm glad that he did.
My exciting news of late is that I had a job interview. The first resume I've sent out in nine years. The possibility of a job means a lot to me right now. Rees was up all night the night before the interview throwing up, so that was a bit of a wake-up call: how to go from vomit to interview in less than an hour, but good to know, all the same. Hips have been feeling a lot better too.
I have been exercising more lately and exploring different yoga DVDs. Some of my favorites include Yoga Booty Ballet (thank you Clare!), which is a very LA sort of cross between yoga and ballet and every other exercise trend of the last decade. In some ways it seems cheesy and superficial, but on the whole it is good, exactly what I need right now. Reasonably interesting, well-rounded workouts with good variety—cardiovascular, weights, abdominals, stretching—and fun music and sets. Then there are the suggestions and adjustments for different ability levels, so I don't feel like a complete failure. Oh yes, and there are helpful affirmations interspersed throughout: "If you don't like what you're doing, change it!" "If you need to rest, rest." "Core strenth build strength of character." "I love myself, I trust myself; I will be myself."
Another yoga DVD features a woman named Rainbeau Mars, also from Hollywood and known as the "yoga teacher to the stars." (Thanks again, Clare!) Her workout is much more traditional yoga, very similar to the classes I take in Boulder. In fact, I wonder if she trained at the same studio. Her mother, Brigitte Mars, lives in Boulder and writes about herbs and nutrition. I met Brigitte at a local store when she sold me some peach-papaya lotion. Anyway, Rainbeau is all about achieving your potential and ultimate beauty. Hip openers definitely being a part of that. Her unique spin is that she sees being self-centered as an important part of your gift to the world. At the end of the workout, during a resting pose where you are lying on the floor like a five-pointed star, she says, "star pose is an opportunity...for deep relaxation...and to have...an active dream...starring...yourself...." Yes, it's all about me, me, me. But maybe in an okay way. She has certainly found her niche.
Finally, on the topic of moving forward in life, I heard a nice quote from BB King when he was interviewed on Fresh Air. He started in Memphis and then when he went to New York for the first time, his agent had some important advice for him. He said, "There will be so many people in New York who are better than you, smarter than you, more talented than you, more attractive than you. And they will be waiting tables. Don't try to be them. You will never be them. Be the one thing they are not: be yourself." It seems BB King took that advice, and I'm glad that he did.
My exciting news of late is that I had a job interview. The first resume I've sent out in nine years. The possibility of a job means a lot to me right now. Rees was up all night the night before the interview throwing up, so that was a bit of a wake-up call: how to go from vomit to interview in less than an hour, but good to know, all the same. Hips have been feeling a lot better too.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Jack-o-Lanterns
We did a hasty pumpkin carving on Monday before trick-or-treating. The boys were just so excited and full of energy. Having moved in the day before, the house was just so full of junk and debris. While needing to talk to the contractor, I was able to spend about two seconds helping the boys carve. Of course scraping out the pumpkins was "too hard" for them. But as always, it worked out in the end. Kadin drew an elaborate "grumpy" face and Rees did a minimalist happy face. We are very happy with them. It is so sad when they decay after all that work, but there is beauty in that too. Each year we are forced to make a new ephemeral creation. And each year I am glad that we do.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Duct tape
We've had a lot going on these days. The house has a roof and walls so we've moved back into the construction site. The raccoons have moved out; the Ninjas have moved in. Halloween and daylight savings made it all that much more disorienting. As usual, I was talked into making costumes for the kids. Not that we don't already have a zillion dress-up clothes, but they wanted something new, of course. This year it was Ninja costumes. The ones for sale in the store were okay, but I thought they could just dress in black and we could fashion some shoulder armor for them. Only problem was, my sewing machine was in storage. Undaunted, I bought three different kinds of metallic fabric: silver tablecloth material, sliver fabric, and shiny blue metallic fabric. I started with the tablecloth material that didn’t really need hemming and fashioned the shoulder armor using duct tape. It worked okay, so I planned to continue with the fabric. I thought I could go to a friend's house to borrow a sewing machine, but then thought that by the time I arranged to go over to someone's house, got there, chatted with them, etc., it would end up taking much longer than needed, so I set out hand sewing it. That was fun, but slow. Then I got the brilliant idea that there might be a sewing machine set up and ready to go at Kadin's preschool. Since I was there twice a day anyway, it wouldn’t take so much arranging. I asked the secretary if there was a machine, and she said no but that she could bring me hers by the time I came to pick Kadin up. That worked great. So here are the Ninja costumes, the one on the left is duct taped and the one on the right (reversible, silver or blue) is sewn with Amy’s machine.Kadin’s preschool has an evening Halloween party every year on the weekend before Halloween. For the past two years, I have opted to go as "my true nature.” Last year I was an ogre. That kind of freaked the kids out. This year, the kids wanted me to be a witch. It wasn't hard, I tell you, came pretty easily. (Last year, Greg went as an Oxford don, this year, just an overwhelmed dad.) So I was happily green and crotchety the day before moving and the Friday before Halloween.
Then on Monday, Rees' class had their party and Halloween parade during the school day. I was stunned to see that Rees' teacher was an angel. Wow, and it truly suited her. She is lovely. At our parent-teacher conference she said, "You know how Rees seems always to be fidgiting or moving about? He needs that. I think that is good for him." God bless her! She does not come across as someone who is especially bright or intense, but she has this amazing ability to just focus on what is important and say the right thing. I have never seen her get flustered, she just takes things in stride. Rees clearly wants to please her. It never would have occurred to me to be an angel for Halloween, but good for her! I'll have to seriously consider that for next year, imagine, emphasizing the positive!
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Ransacked!
I opened the door and saw garbage all over the floor, every cupboard flung open, the waffle iron on the ground. Someone, or something, had really done a number on the kitchen. Granola bar wrappers, cereal boxes, opened tupperware, crushed ramen noodles, empty soy milk cartons, absolutely everywhere. At first I could see only chaos, but then the patterns started to emerge. It was mostly food items that were everywhere and every cupboard was emptied up to about chest height. I knew the likely culprits: little two-foot high masked intruders. Alas, our house that is open to the elements is also open to the vermin. There was not much I could do as there is no good way to secure the kitchen and nothing left to secure anyway.
Still, all that night, I had dreams of little striped gangster hoodlums having quite a party in the kitchen. The nerve! And then I was worried that they might just move in. One day I would open a cupboard or a closet and be surprised by glinting eyes and a wet nose.
I went back this morning, cleaned up the mess, searched the cupboards and closets for stowaways and shut everything up as best I could. Let's hope the house gets solid walls soon and it's days as a ring tailed party center are over.
Still, all that night, I had dreams of little striped gangster hoodlums having quite a party in the kitchen. The nerve! And then I was worried that they might just move in. One day I would open a cupboard or a closet and be surprised by glinting eyes and a wet nose.
I went back this morning, cleaned up the mess, searched the cupboards and closets for stowaways and shut everything up as best I could. Let's hope the house gets solid walls soon and it's days as a ring tailed party center are over.
Monday, October 17, 2005
For the birds
Just finished reading The Big Year by Mark Obmascik, a funny, quick read about something near and dear to my heart: obsession. The obsession in this case is birding, a competitive sport, it turns out, not to be confused with the more passive pursuit of bird watching. Birding is not my particular obsession (though, I suddenly notice, there are a large number of posts in my blog about birds), but neither is mountain climbing, another favorite book topic of mine. For some reason I am drawn to this kind of non-fiction. Maybe I am obsessed with obsession itself? The three main characters in this book (real people) are well drawn, and even though they are all very different, they all share the same obsession and they are each appealing in their own twisted way. I wanted them all to win. ( A Big Year is a quest to see the largest number of bird species in North America in a year.) Those of you interested in the survival literature genré (and you know who you are!), should definitely pick up this book. You will laugh out loud and be glad you are in the safety and comfort of your own home.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
DAM
Cathy has once again inspired me to write, because even though she has a bad head cold and feels a lack of inspiration, she is able to come up with her usual witty, entertaining blog entries.
You may all have heard in the news about how Colorado suffered a terrible winter storm last weekend and was buried under 20 inches of snow. You probably have not heard the news that it is a beautiful, 70 degrees, and sunny today with lovely autumn leaves.
Well, it didn’t snow (much) in Boulder, but it did rain for about 48 hours and about 2.5 inches of rain fell in that time. Not such a big deal, really, but there is still no roof on our house and it wasn’t that pleasant to be outdoors. The house seems to be pretty much okay, and I tried not to panic unduly over the persistent lack of a roof. To take advantage of the weather, the family spent the day on Sunday at the Denver Art Museum (DAM).
We have never taken the opportunity to explore Denver, and we didn't do it this time either, but we drove through a different part of city to get the museum. The museum is more centrally located than the Zoo and the Natural History museum, the only other Denver attractions we have visited. It was nice to see more of the city, though it looked sodden, and I would like to get to know it better.
We knew we were near the museum when we saw a giant wooden chair with a horse statue on top. The kids enjoyed the whimsy of that and until then, I don't think they understood the kind of fun we could have.
It turns out the museum has family programs on the weekend which includes activity backpacks and a family fun center. We were one of the few families there, it was not crowded in the least.
We started with the backpacks. Rees picked one about jaguars, snakes, and birds and Kadin picked one about Aztecs. We ended up only exploring the 4th-floor exhibits of South American, Pre-Columbian artifacts, but what a collection it was.
The 4th floor is very staid and traditional with objects in sanitized glass cases, but the backpacks really interested the children and drew us in. The whole setting was suffused with quiet formality, so the kids were a bit subdued and uncomfortable. But the first instruction in the backpack was to imagine that we were in a tropical rain forest surrounded by animals, many of whom were hidden. And sure enough, in the artifacts all around us, we found hidden animals. Of course, to find animals, you need to be quiet and stealthy, so this fit in quite well.
We hunted for animals and tried to imagine these artifacts in their original setting. I was really blown away by the complexity of the civilizations and the variety and beauty of artifacts. I was left wanting to learn more about the Maya and the Inca and their predecessors and antecedents. Greg fell in love with an Aztec jar and the kids really had a good time.
The backpacks then directed us to the family fun center. Here there were chairs the kids could construct and decorate, a temple of foam blocks to build, and amazing Egyptian dress-up clothes, among other things.
The dress-up clothes were especially well done. The person who made them had a real passion was clearly obsessed with fabrics and textures. There were ibis headdresses and winged capes, slithery crocodiles and lotus blossoms. They were extremely well constructed and durable and had clever, aesthetically pleasing fasteners. You really felt like someone special when you put on these raiments. (They were sort of like human-sized folkmanis puppets, for those of you familiar with folkmanis.) Though beautiful, they were also practical and each had a large, prominent loop sewn in so you could easily hang them back up when you were done. It was nice to see something so well done that was also so kid friendly.
Each of us also had fun designing and making patterns on discs that we put on tops and then spun. It was exciting to see how everyone's creation looked in motion. Then it was time to go and the kids didn't want to leave. There was plenty more in the museum and in Denver to explore, but we'll have to save that for the next rainy weekend.
You may all have heard in the news about how Colorado suffered a terrible winter storm last weekend and was buried under 20 inches of snow. You probably have not heard the news that it is a beautiful, 70 degrees, and sunny today with lovely autumn leaves.
Well, it didn’t snow (much) in Boulder, but it did rain for about 48 hours and about 2.5 inches of rain fell in that time. Not such a big deal, really, but there is still no roof on our house and it wasn’t that pleasant to be outdoors. The house seems to be pretty much okay, and I tried not to panic unduly over the persistent lack of a roof. To take advantage of the weather, the family spent the day on Sunday at the Denver Art Museum (DAM).
We have never taken the opportunity to explore Denver, and we didn't do it this time either, but we drove through a different part of city to get the museum. The museum is more centrally located than the Zoo and the Natural History museum, the only other Denver attractions we have visited. It was nice to see more of the city, though it looked sodden, and I would like to get to know it better.
We knew we were near the museum when we saw a giant wooden chair with a horse statue on top. The kids enjoyed the whimsy of that and until then, I don't think they understood the kind of fun we could have.
It turns out the museum has family programs on the weekend which includes activity backpacks and a family fun center. We were one of the few families there, it was not crowded in the least.
We started with the backpacks. Rees picked one about jaguars, snakes, and birds and Kadin picked one about Aztecs. We ended up only exploring the 4th-floor exhibits of South American, Pre-Columbian artifacts, but what a collection it was.
The 4th floor is very staid and traditional with objects in sanitized glass cases, but the backpacks really interested the children and drew us in. The whole setting was suffused with quiet formality, so the kids were a bit subdued and uncomfortable. But the first instruction in the backpack was to imagine that we were in a tropical rain forest surrounded by animals, many of whom were hidden. And sure enough, in the artifacts all around us, we found hidden animals. Of course, to find animals, you need to be quiet and stealthy, so this fit in quite well.
We hunted for animals and tried to imagine these artifacts in their original setting. I was really blown away by the complexity of the civilizations and the variety and beauty of artifacts. I was left wanting to learn more about the Maya and the Inca and their predecessors and antecedents. Greg fell in love with an Aztec jar and the kids really had a good time.
The backpacks then directed us to the family fun center. Here there were chairs the kids could construct and decorate, a temple of foam blocks to build, and amazing Egyptian dress-up clothes, among other things.
The dress-up clothes were especially well done. The person who made them had a real passion was clearly obsessed with fabrics and textures. There were ibis headdresses and winged capes, slithery crocodiles and lotus blossoms. They were extremely well constructed and durable and had clever, aesthetically pleasing fasteners. You really felt like someone special when you put on these raiments. (They were sort of like human-sized folkmanis puppets, for those of you familiar with folkmanis.) Though beautiful, they were also practical and each had a large, prominent loop sewn in so you could easily hang them back up when you were done. It was nice to see something so well done that was also so kid friendly.
Each of us also had fun designing and making patterns on discs that we put on tops and then spun. It was exciting to see how everyone's creation looked in motion. Then it was time to go and the kids didn't want to leave. There was plenty more in the museum and in Denver to explore, but we'll have to save that for the next rainy weekend.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Who would have thought…
I did not and do not intend this blog to be about cats, but so it seems to be at the moment. I feel compelled now to share with you some of the interesting cat ephemera that has been sent my way.
First, there is this website of cats in sinks that my mom brought to my attention. Endless, hypnotic, amusing.
Then there is the very interesting Cat Circus that Nina sent the links for and has plans to go see. Wow. I love the idea of getting into a cat’s head, but my problem with trying to encourage the cats in some behavior is how to reward them. They are not like dogs who can be easily trained with food. There probably is some food that the cats would see as a reward, but I also bet it is a form of raw meat that I just couldn’t deal with. I’d love to know, though, what this guy uses, it has to be more than just a pat on the back. And I love that he says the main thing training cats has taught him is “patience.” Now that is a whole different kind of cat show.
First, there is this website of cats in sinks that my mom brought to my attention. Endless, hypnotic, amusing.
Then there is the very interesting Cat Circus that Nina sent the links for and has plans to go see. Wow. I love the idea of getting into a cat’s head, but my problem with trying to encourage the cats in some behavior is how to reward them. They are not like dogs who can be easily trained with food. There probably is some food that the cats would see as a reward, but I also bet it is a form of raw meat that I just couldn’t deal with. I’d love to know, though, what this guy uses, it has to be more than just a pat on the back. And I love that he says the main thing training cats has taught him is “patience.” Now that is a whole different kind of cat show.
The cat show
I’m sorry I did not post sooner about the cat show, but I had to get over my disappointment first. Let’s just say that cat shows could be a lot of fun, if you win.
As expected, the atmosphere in the room, a typical hotel convention room, was very artificial. Thank goodness it was a rainy weekend. I arrived to find the cage the breeder had brought for me (hot pink) decorated with lace, beanie babies, and pictures of cats with fairy wings. Not to my taste at all, but whatever, it was nice of her to go to the effort.
You know how perfect I feel my Pearl is, but then the very nice lady next to me unveiled her kitten: a most stunning female tabby, “silver” (read white) with “chocolate” (read brown) stripes. She was so gorgeous and relaxed and endearing. How did my Pearl have any chance against this beauty?
As far as the competition goes, here is the deal. This being "D#von Heav#n" the one cat show chosen this year as a gathering point for owners of D#von R#xs, there are 40 D#von R#x cats entered. This is highly unusual. Normally there would be only a couple D#vons at a show. I gather that Maine Coon Cats are typically the most popular breed at shows. At this show there were 41 Maine Coon Cats, 40 D#vons, and the next largest breed represented was 10 Oriental Shorthairs.
Within each breed there are categories for adults by gender and color and categories for kittens by gender and color. There are two divisions for adults: premiership (first time out) and championship (those who have already won at other shows). Rex and Pearl were kittens, with Rex being in the male tabby group and Pearl being in the female tabby group. Of the 40 D#vons, 22 were kittens. Of the 22 kittens, 2 were male tabbies and 13 were female tabbies. The 13 female tabbies made up the toughest competition at the show. Each category gets a first, second, and a third place. Rex, in his group of two, consistently placed second to a spunky, nearly bald, very light haired little guy name Pilgrim. In her group of 13, the judges did not seem impressed by Pearl. Nor did they seem impressed by stunning miss silver and chocolate, our neighbor. It is true, color means almost nothing. It is all shape and proportion.
Eight times I heard my cat’s numbers called. Eight times I took them into one of the eight rings. Eight times they lost. I have to say, however, that at least when comparing male tabby D#vons or female tabby D#vons, the judges were pretty consistent. Out of the 13 in Pearl’s group, the first-, second-, and third-place winners were usually the same three cats. Rex was always second out of two. Even out of 13 (the largest group there, I think) it was pretty clear who the contenders were and whom the judges were interested in. They all just looked like cats to me, but I was impressed that the judges all saw something else, something they pretty consistently all agreed upon.
If a cat won at this level of gender, breed, and color, then they could go on to other levels that compare all D#vons (breed only) and then move on to between-breed comparisons. I, of course, have no first-hand knowledge of this, but I think that it might get just a bit more random when the judges are comparing between breeds, with each judge having their own favorites (all very suspect and controversial, of course, generating lots of gossip, intrigue, and speculation). That would make it a good, very enticing system, where if you make it out of the initial stages (likely if there are few representatives of your breed and color) the results are not so predictable or set in stone, but the stakes are also higher. At that point, the judges are comparing apples and oranges, and determining whether an apple is a more perfect example of an apple than an orange that is the most perfect example of an orange and so on. In that situation, your chance of getting that much-desired recognition is more by chance. There is more suspense. And the recognition means more as it is at a higher level.
Alas, recognition for me and mine did not come. I do think both cats excelled in the anti-social category, however. As soon as Rex and Pearl got in the room with hundreds of other cats, they started hissing and growling. They couldn't even tolerate each other, despite having slept together on my lap in the car on the way to the show. I kept one on my lap or in the carrier and the other in the cage throughout the show. Very ironic as originally I had only intended to bring Pearl and was slightly worried how she would feel being separated from Rex. When the breeder encouraged me to bring both, I never imagined that them getting along would be a problem. None of us was happy about that.
Neither cat is used to being in a cage. Not that they seemed to mind so much, but compared to the other "show cats" (as opposed to pets) they were not at all relaxed. Every judge got hissed and growled at by my two darlings. The first judge called Rex "spoiled." Pearl was the center of attention, not because of her good looks, but because of her acrobatics trying to get out of her cage. She would try determinately to back out, doing handstands and flips in the process. It was a bit of a show stealer as the spectators oohhed and ahhed and the judges seemed annoyed.
Other people I met ranged from locals to a woman from Seattle (owner of beautiful silver and chocolate, a C-section delivery BTW) to two women from Alaska. Interesting people and I wonder how they all got into cats. I think the reasons are varied. There is certainly no money in it. Many of the people seemed very nurturing or elderly or overweight or handicapped. Some seem controlling. I don't know what is cause and what is effect, but I do think raising cats would be a nice hobby for someone who was not very mobile. My favorite part of the show was just sitting with one of the cats on my lap.
One of the things that I think you could do at cat shows is live your fantasy through your cats. You find that perfect cat that suits your Ideal (or the judge's Ideal) and then you get accolades for that cat. You can breed them and groom them and choose them to your liking and then you can get the recognition. It could be very addicting. It seemed there were a lot of people living vicariously through their cats. People who obviously didn't take very good care of themselves, lavished care and affection on their show animals.
Finally, I am convinced that there are show cats and there are pets. My two are great pets. They are affectionate, smart, amusing, and good with people and children. They have not been trained to be good with other cats and they are not good in cages, hence not such great show cats. Nor, apparently, are they perfect representations of their breed's physical characteristics. It's just as well. While I could see how much fun and how rewarding it would be to show a winning cat, I can think of lots of other ways to get enjoyment from your pets. Okay, okay, I’m a sore loser!
As expected, the atmosphere in the room, a typical hotel convention room, was very artificial. Thank goodness it was a rainy weekend. I arrived to find the cage the breeder had brought for me (hot pink) decorated with lace, beanie babies, and pictures of cats with fairy wings. Not to my taste at all, but whatever, it was nice of her to go to the effort.
You know how perfect I feel my Pearl is, but then the very nice lady next to me unveiled her kitten: a most stunning female tabby, “silver” (read white) with “chocolate” (read brown) stripes. She was so gorgeous and relaxed and endearing. How did my Pearl have any chance against this beauty?
As far as the competition goes, here is the deal. This being "D#von Heav#n" the one cat show chosen this year as a gathering point for owners of D#von R#xs, there are 40 D#von R#x cats entered. This is highly unusual. Normally there would be only a couple D#vons at a show. I gather that Maine Coon Cats are typically the most popular breed at shows. At this show there were 41 Maine Coon Cats, 40 D#vons, and the next largest breed represented was 10 Oriental Shorthairs.
Within each breed there are categories for adults by gender and color and categories for kittens by gender and color. There are two divisions for adults: premiership (first time out) and championship (those who have already won at other shows). Rex and Pearl were kittens, with Rex being in the male tabby group and Pearl being in the female tabby group. Of the 40 D#vons, 22 were kittens. Of the 22 kittens, 2 were male tabbies and 13 were female tabbies. The 13 female tabbies made up the toughest competition at the show. Each category gets a first, second, and a third place. Rex, in his group of two, consistently placed second to a spunky, nearly bald, very light haired little guy name Pilgrim. In her group of 13, the judges did not seem impressed by Pearl. Nor did they seem impressed by stunning miss silver and chocolate, our neighbor. It is true, color means almost nothing. It is all shape and proportion.
Eight times I heard my cat’s numbers called. Eight times I took them into one of the eight rings. Eight times they lost. I have to say, however, that at least when comparing male tabby D#vons or female tabby D#vons, the judges were pretty consistent. Out of the 13 in Pearl’s group, the first-, second-, and third-place winners were usually the same three cats. Rex was always second out of two. Even out of 13 (the largest group there, I think) it was pretty clear who the contenders were and whom the judges were interested in. They all just looked like cats to me, but I was impressed that the judges all saw something else, something they pretty consistently all agreed upon.
If a cat won at this level of gender, breed, and color, then they could go on to other levels that compare all D#vons (breed only) and then move on to between-breed comparisons. I, of course, have no first-hand knowledge of this, but I think that it might get just a bit more random when the judges are comparing between breeds, with each judge having their own favorites (all very suspect and controversial, of course, generating lots of gossip, intrigue, and speculation). That would make it a good, very enticing system, where if you make it out of the initial stages (likely if there are few representatives of your breed and color) the results are not so predictable or set in stone, but the stakes are also higher. At that point, the judges are comparing apples and oranges, and determining whether an apple is a more perfect example of an apple than an orange that is the most perfect example of an orange and so on. In that situation, your chance of getting that much-desired recognition is more by chance. There is more suspense. And the recognition means more as it is at a higher level.
Alas, recognition for me and mine did not come. I do think both cats excelled in the anti-social category, however. As soon as Rex and Pearl got in the room with hundreds of other cats, they started hissing and growling. They couldn't even tolerate each other, despite having slept together on my lap in the car on the way to the show. I kept one on my lap or in the carrier and the other in the cage throughout the show. Very ironic as originally I had only intended to bring Pearl and was slightly worried how she would feel being separated from Rex. When the breeder encouraged me to bring both, I never imagined that them getting along would be a problem. None of us was happy about that.
Neither cat is used to being in a cage. Not that they seemed to mind so much, but compared to the other "show cats" (as opposed to pets) they were not at all relaxed. Every judge got hissed and growled at by my two darlings. The first judge called Rex "spoiled." Pearl was the center of attention, not because of her good looks, but because of her acrobatics trying to get out of her cage. She would try determinately to back out, doing handstands and flips in the process. It was a bit of a show stealer as the spectators oohhed and ahhed and the judges seemed annoyed.
Other people I met ranged from locals to a woman from Seattle (owner of beautiful silver and chocolate, a C-section delivery BTW) to two women from Alaska. Interesting people and I wonder how they all got into cats. I think the reasons are varied. There is certainly no money in it. Many of the people seemed very nurturing or elderly or overweight or handicapped. Some seem controlling. I don't know what is cause and what is effect, but I do think raising cats would be a nice hobby for someone who was not very mobile. My favorite part of the show was just sitting with one of the cats on my lap.
One of the things that I think you could do at cat shows is live your fantasy through your cats. You find that perfect cat that suits your Ideal (or the judge's Ideal) and then you get accolades for that cat. You can breed them and groom them and choose them to your liking and then you can get the recognition. It could be very addicting. It seemed there were a lot of people living vicariously through their cats. People who obviously didn't take very good care of themselves, lavished care and affection on their show animals.
Finally, I am convinced that there are show cats and there are pets. My two are great pets. They are affectionate, smart, amusing, and good with people and children. They have not been trained to be good with other cats and they are not good in cages, hence not such great show cats. Nor, apparently, are they perfect representations of their breed's physical characteristics. It's just as well. While I could see how much fun and how rewarding it would be to show a winning cat, I can think of lots of other ways to get enjoyment from your pets. Okay, okay, I’m a sore loser!
Monday, September 26, 2005
Joke of the week
Heard last night on the radio:
When President Bush was asked about Roe vs. Wade, he replied:
"I don’t really care what you do. The important thing is to get out of New Orleans, one way or the other."
When President Bush was asked about Roe vs. Wade, he replied:
"I don’t really care what you do. The important thing is to get out of New Orleans, one way or the other."
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
In praise of the fad and the short-lived
It occurred to me the other day that I tend to dismiss new exercise crazes as frivolous fads. It seems that every few months something new will come along and there will be neat new equipment to buy. There is yoga and “power yoga” and “hot yoga” and Pilates and NIA and the walking movement with pedometers and ski skates and skate skis and snowshoes and walking sticks and mountain bikes and road bikes and cruisers. Thrift stores are filled with old exercise bikes, Nordic tracks, elliptical trainers, and so on. I realized that I kind of look down my nose at all the equipment, roll my eyes, and see each new fad as short lived and a bit of a waste. I resist the change and am waiting for THE THING or fall back on the classic walking. I realized that if I was going to take up an exercise, something deep inside me wanted to feel a real commitment to it and to the equipment, for the LONG TERM. And I felt the less equipment, the better.
But then it hit me. Why? What was I thinking? Why be reluctant to adopt the new trends? So what if they are short lived fads? This is exercise we are talking about! If it is novel and fun and good for you, what is the worry? Why do I have to be so stoic and old fashioned and committed? If I buy an exercised DVD and only do it four or five times, so what? It still cost less than four or five classes and it was not wasted. Why not go out and try every new thing? If I do it for a while and then move on to something else-the next thing-so much the better! What is the harm? There is only gain.
My acupuncturist is a former tri-athlete and she reminds me how good it is to change the kind of exercise you do and not to stick with only one thing all the time. In new exercises you use new muscles and don’t overuse others. I realize that for years I have been trying to find “my thing” and been wanting to commit to something and there is really no reason to do this at all. It feels good to throw that out and just commit to exercise in general, do lots of different things, and even embrace new fads, if only for a short time. I don’t know what was wrong with me before! I now want to be more open minded and an early adopter of new exercise fads. It can only be fun and helpful. Let’s go!
And then there is the thing with toys. I realize that I have always tended to buy presents for the kids that were toys of the highest quality---even heirloom quality---made of nice, solid wood. And now I have a house FULL of nice toys. Why? Greg just got Rees this large but sort of cheap plastic castle for his birthday. At first I was kind of annoyed, as I had seen a nice, solid, wooden one at a thrift store, but resisted buying it because we had so many toys. If we were going to get a castle, why not get a nice one? I thought. But then I realized it would stay and likely be with us for the long term. It is great to have a fun-for-now but not forever sort of castle. It will eventually break and move on. Phew! That is okay! That is for the best!
And it is the same with holiday decorations. On the one hand it seems a terrible waste to buy a tree every year and then throw it away. And now they have those fake, carve-able pumpkins that you can carve and keep forever. It is truly sad when a jack-o-lantern decays and shrivels and dies, but it is also a great thing. It reminds me of change and the seasons and, best of all, I don’t have to keep it around until next year. It is gone, compost!
Certainly it is not good to just waste things, to buy things that pollute or can’t be recycled and throw them out, but I can surely loosen up a little. I have tended to go too far in the other direction of late. For toys, exercise, and seasonal decorations I am ready to embrace the new, the temporary, and the fad. It’s time for me to lighten up and have some fun!
But then it hit me. Why? What was I thinking? Why be reluctant to adopt the new trends? So what if they are short lived fads? This is exercise we are talking about! If it is novel and fun and good for you, what is the worry? Why do I have to be so stoic and old fashioned and committed? If I buy an exercised DVD and only do it four or five times, so what? It still cost less than four or five classes and it was not wasted. Why not go out and try every new thing? If I do it for a while and then move on to something else-the next thing-so much the better! What is the harm? There is only gain.
My acupuncturist is a former tri-athlete and she reminds me how good it is to change the kind of exercise you do and not to stick with only one thing all the time. In new exercises you use new muscles and don’t overuse others. I realize that for years I have been trying to find “my thing” and been wanting to commit to something and there is really no reason to do this at all. It feels good to throw that out and just commit to exercise in general, do lots of different things, and even embrace new fads, if only for a short time. I don’t know what was wrong with me before! I now want to be more open minded and an early adopter of new exercise fads. It can only be fun and helpful. Let’s go!
And then there is the thing with toys. I realize that I have always tended to buy presents for the kids that were toys of the highest quality---even heirloom quality---made of nice, solid wood. And now I have a house FULL of nice toys. Why? Greg just got Rees this large but sort of cheap plastic castle for his birthday. At first I was kind of annoyed, as I had seen a nice, solid, wooden one at a thrift store, but resisted buying it because we had so many toys. If we were going to get a castle, why not get a nice one? I thought. But then I realized it would stay and likely be with us for the long term. It is great to have a fun-for-now but not forever sort of castle. It will eventually break and move on. Phew! That is okay! That is for the best!
And it is the same with holiday decorations. On the one hand it seems a terrible waste to buy a tree every year and then throw it away. And now they have those fake, carve-able pumpkins that you can carve and keep forever. It is truly sad when a jack-o-lantern decays and shrivels and dies, but it is also a great thing. It reminds me of change and the seasons and, best of all, I don’t have to keep it around until next year. It is gone, compost!
Certainly it is not good to just waste things, to buy things that pollute or can’t be recycled and throw them out, but I can surely loosen up a little. I have tended to go too far in the other direction of late. For toys, exercise, and seasonal decorations I am ready to embrace the new, the temporary, and the fad. It’s time for me to lighten up and have some fun!
The answer
Yes, it is what I have been waiting for! They just appeared in the mail box the other day and they solve my dilemma. No more thoughts about cat-motif checks for me, because now, courtesy of the Boulder Valley Humane Society, I have cat return-address labels. Hooray!
Oh yeah, and as of about 15 minutes ago, I have been convinced to enter Rex in the cat show this weekend as well. AND I will be going to something called a Rexception, a banquet on Saturday night, and to top it all off, I am staying overnight at the hotel as well. I even tried to arrange to carpool with someone so I could really get some immersion in the culture, but no luck there. Don’t know what kind of weekend I have in store or what one should wear to a cat show banquet, but I’ll find out soon!
Oh yeah, and as of about 15 minutes ago, I have been convinced to enter Rex in the cat show this weekend as well. AND I will be going to something called a Rexception, a banquet on Saturday night, and to top it all off, I am staying overnight at the hotel as well. I even tried to arrange to carpool with someone so I could really get some immersion in the culture, but no luck there. Don’t know what kind of weekend I have in store or what one should wear to a cat show banquet, but I’ll find out soon!
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Feng Shui
Oh boy do I miss those kitties. The kittens are currently at a friend’s house and we are temporarily in an apartment. We are in an apartment because the roof has come off our house. This has happened on purpose, however, and it is a good thing as we are adding on a couple of rooms. (Boy has Katrina really put that in perspective for me!) The house, though “light and airy” at present, has no walls or roof to speak of. Great views, but it is also noisy and dusty. Not a shelter for man or beast in any sense of the word.
We found a nice furnished hotel-like two-bedroom apartment on campus, and because Greg is a professor, it is a truly cheap option for the four (make that six) of us. The one drawback is that pets are not allowed. When we first arrived in Boulder, we stayed in university housing (before pets) and noticed that though pets were not allowed, there were many people who had them anyway. So we figured we’d be one of those tenants this time around. Only the place we are staying this time around is slightly different from our old apartment. It has the added bonus that it is more truly furnished and they clean it on Tuesdays and Fridays, change the sheets, make the beds, etc. Really nice that they do this, but a sure-fire way to let them know about the feline members of the family.
Wanting to make it all work, we arranged an elaborate plan for Greg to take the kittens to work on the cleaning days. I dealt with disguising their food and litter; he dealt with the cats. We became kitten smugglers. It felt wrong to me, so pre-meditated and effortful. Not a passive sort of, ”Oh, I’m sorry, cats aren’t allowed? I didn’t know,” or, “it didn’t occur to me that it would be a problem.” So how to work it? Other ideas included bribing the cleaning staff, who were surely underpaid, not to report us. But this seemed triply wrong to me: first the pets, then the bribe, and then asking someone to take the bribe. We never seriously considered that.
The cats are small and not destructive, but it still made me tense every time they would meow or even when they would sit prettily on the windowsill. I was out much of the first day they were here, but during the one hour I was in the apartment, a man knocked at one of the doors (we have two doors, confusing!). And since I didn’t immediately know which door he was at, he thought no one was home and came in to pick up the university-owned phone. Yikes! I quickly shooed him out and handed him the phone through the door. But what if I had been away? It was our first day and already we were almost busted!
The next day was a cleaning day so Greg took the cats to work. He really seemed to enjoy the subterfuge. He said he also enjoyed having them at work. But the real wake up call came when I mentioned to the boys that they should tone down talk of the kitties because technically, they weren’t allowed. This truly distressed Rees. If it was wrong, it was wrong, no gray area about it. I have to admit it distressed me too. We tried to reassure him, but he could not relax. And what good instincts for him to know that what was wrong was wrong. We should encourage that instinct, not dismiss it. Finally, he said, “Mom, you know the cats? In the apartment, they are bad feng shui.”
He hit the nail on the head. I often talk about feng shui as something that either makes you feel comfortable and secure, or something that doesn’t. For the kids that would mean that leaving your glass of milk near the edge of the table or absent-mindedly rocking the pitcher of juice back and forth would be “bad feng shui.” I include in this category being loud and fast in a restaurant or behaving erratically in front of people carrying trays of food or walking on crutches. The response from the kids that, “I wasn’t going to crash into them,” doesn’t cut it for me. It is still distressing, and so “bad feng shui.” At one point, Rees had taken to asking me if he was bad feng shui! Poor kids. I was afraid they were going to grow up with a very distorted view of feng shui.
And the cats, usually a source of good feng shui as they come up to you and purr or sit prettily looking out the window, ears alert, tails twitching, had suddenly become a source of stress and danger. I tried to rationalize it, but it was clear that neither Rees nor I was comfortable with the situation. I imagined dirty looks from our neighbors in the apartment, I avoided going to the housing office to ask questions, and was tense every time I passed someone in the halls or walked by that especially menacing door labeled “Resident Manager.” Uggh.
So I started asking around and found the family of one of Rees’ friends who were cat lovers, but miraculously did not have cats. They were willing to cat sit. They are responsible and loving and I trust them completely. Good feng shui there. We delivered the cats to them and the cats have adjusted well to their new circumstances. Still, it seems a long time to be away from the kitties---six weeks when we have only had them for three months. But they seem happy and the energy in our apartment has improved dramatically. I can smile at the people in the halls now and have even had nice conversations with the resident manager. Our neighbors suddenly look much more friendly. The feng shui has definitely improved.
We found a nice furnished hotel-like two-bedroom apartment on campus, and because Greg is a professor, it is a truly cheap option for the four (make that six) of us. The one drawback is that pets are not allowed. When we first arrived in Boulder, we stayed in university housing (before pets) and noticed that though pets were not allowed, there were many people who had them anyway. So we figured we’d be one of those tenants this time around. Only the place we are staying this time around is slightly different from our old apartment. It has the added bonus that it is more truly furnished and they clean it on Tuesdays and Fridays, change the sheets, make the beds, etc. Really nice that they do this, but a sure-fire way to let them know about the feline members of the family.
Wanting to make it all work, we arranged an elaborate plan for Greg to take the kittens to work on the cleaning days. I dealt with disguising their food and litter; he dealt with the cats. We became kitten smugglers. It felt wrong to me, so pre-meditated and effortful. Not a passive sort of, ”Oh, I’m sorry, cats aren’t allowed? I didn’t know,” or, “it didn’t occur to me that it would be a problem.” So how to work it? Other ideas included bribing the cleaning staff, who were surely underpaid, not to report us. But this seemed triply wrong to me: first the pets, then the bribe, and then asking someone to take the bribe. We never seriously considered that.
The cats are small and not destructive, but it still made me tense every time they would meow or even when they would sit prettily on the windowsill. I was out much of the first day they were here, but during the one hour I was in the apartment, a man knocked at one of the doors (we have two doors, confusing!). And since I didn’t immediately know which door he was at, he thought no one was home and came in to pick up the university-owned phone. Yikes! I quickly shooed him out and handed him the phone through the door. But what if I had been away? It was our first day and already we were almost busted!
The next day was a cleaning day so Greg took the cats to work. He really seemed to enjoy the subterfuge. He said he also enjoyed having them at work. But the real wake up call came when I mentioned to the boys that they should tone down talk of the kitties because technically, they weren’t allowed. This truly distressed Rees. If it was wrong, it was wrong, no gray area about it. I have to admit it distressed me too. We tried to reassure him, but he could not relax. And what good instincts for him to know that what was wrong was wrong. We should encourage that instinct, not dismiss it. Finally, he said, “Mom, you know the cats? In the apartment, they are bad feng shui.”
He hit the nail on the head. I often talk about feng shui as something that either makes you feel comfortable and secure, or something that doesn’t. For the kids that would mean that leaving your glass of milk near the edge of the table or absent-mindedly rocking the pitcher of juice back and forth would be “bad feng shui.” I include in this category being loud and fast in a restaurant or behaving erratically in front of people carrying trays of food or walking on crutches. The response from the kids that, “I wasn’t going to crash into them,” doesn’t cut it for me. It is still distressing, and so “bad feng shui.” At one point, Rees had taken to asking me if he was bad feng shui! Poor kids. I was afraid they were going to grow up with a very distorted view of feng shui.
And the cats, usually a source of good feng shui as they come up to you and purr or sit prettily looking out the window, ears alert, tails twitching, had suddenly become a source of stress and danger. I tried to rationalize it, but it was clear that neither Rees nor I was comfortable with the situation. I imagined dirty looks from our neighbors in the apartment, I avoided going to the housing office to ask questions, and was tense every time I passed someone in the halls or walked by that especially menacing door labeled “Resident Manager.” Uggh.
So I started asking around and found the family of one of Rees’ friends who were cat lovers, but miraculously did not have cats. They were willing to cat sit. They are responsible and loving and I trust them completely. Good feng shui there. We delivered the cats to them and the cats have adjusted well to their new circumstances. Still, it seems a long time to be away from the kitties---six weeks when we have only had them for three months. But they seem happy and the energy in our apartment has improved dramatically. I can smile at the people in the halls now and have even had nice conversations with the resident manager. Our neighbors suddenly look much more friendly. The feng shui has definitely improved.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Homage to New Orleans
Here is something I wrote after my visit to New Orleans a decade ago. It seems a fitting homage to the city's artistry, magic, and beauty as well as its contrasts, problems, and conflicts. (Especially telling to me now is that I went UP to the river and had a VIEW from there. Yikes.)
THE LEVEE
It's early; the shops in the French Quarter aren't open yet. I walk up to the river and along the levee. From up by the river I can look out over the city. It is a misty morning; all is calm. I hear the chugging of a boat as it slowly pushes a large barge around the bend toward the docks. Up here on the levee there are some hunched-over men, haphazardly distributed along the row of benches. They look like they've been up all night and are seeking the smooth calm of the early morning river. A low, soulful saxophone wafts through the mist in soft, mournful tones, and church bells ring in the distance. Somewhere the rattle of a jackhammer. The smoothness of the scene is broken by the quick movements of a black Labrador retriever, cutting down by the water and bringing in some drifiting wood. Eyes follow from the benches. As the lab climbs up the levee an old black man wearing an old hat totters up from his bench to greet the dog. Another man stands at his easel, quietly putting the finishing touches on an oil painting of a steamboat. Unlike the placid scene of morning mist and mournful saxophone in front of us, the river on his easel is turbulent, gray clouds swirling from his canvas. His brush, tipped with bright red paint, outlines the jagged trim on the steamboat. The color vibrates against the gray background like a throbbing blood vessel. The dog barks, the snag of driftwood is thrown down the levee again into the river. The process of recovery begins anew.
THE LEVEE
It's early; the shops in the French Quarter aren't open yet. I walk up to the river and along the levee. From up by the river I can look out over the city. It is a misty morning; all is calm. I hear the chugging of a boat as it slowly pushes a large barge around the bend toward the docks. Up here on the levee there are some hunched-over men, haphazardly distributed along the row of benches. They look like they've been up all night and are seeking the smooth calm of the early morning river. A low, soulful saxophone wafts through the mist in soft, mournful tones, and church bells ring in the distance. Somewhere the rattle of a jackhammer. The smoothness of the scene is broken by the quick movements of a black Labrador retriever, cutting down by the water and bringing in some drifiting wood. Eyes follow from the benches. As the lab climbs up the levee an old black man wearing an old hat totters up from his bench to greet the dog. Another man stands at his easel, quietly putting the finishing touches on an oil painting of a steamboat. Unlike the placid scene of morning mist and mournful saxophone in front of us, the river on his easel is turbulent, gray clouds swirling from his canvas. His brush, tipped with bright red paint, outlines the jagged trim on the steamboat. The color vibrates against the gray background like a throbbing blood vessel. The dog barks, the snag of driftwood is thrown down the levee again into the river. The process of recovery begins anew.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Pretty pixie
I am going to do it, make a real foray into the strange and mysterious Cat World. The cat culture has been tugging at me for some time (see R#x quest, Flickers, finches, purrs and hugs, and Pedigree) as I corresponded with breeders, tried to master the art of cat conversation, and wondered if I should get those cat-motif checks. But now, as an official cat owner, I am able to delve in in earnest. With the breeder’s encouragement, I have registered Pearl for the upcoming "Devon Heaven" cat show in Denver. But that was just the first step. I knew I was really committed when I also asked about and then ordered grooming products for her. Yes, I have bought various shampoos and conditioners for a cat that range from $4-$10 a bottle. I rarely do this for myself so what am I thinking? Who knew there was a market for such things?
She'll be entered in the kitten category and I don't know what to expect at a show or what categories they are judged on. But I do know that I want her to win something. I find I really care. Isn't that weird? I really want for her to look her best. (I think most cats do get ribbons, though, it keeps people coming to the shows.) And hey, who knows, she might meet her future mate there. Hence the fancy shampoo.
The main shampoo is a dark purple color, called Snowburst, that is really for white cats. According to the breeder, though, it works great on darker cats as well. The idea, I think, is that it takes the yellow color out of their coat, so her grey will be greyer and darker (a white cat would be less yellow too, and more white). Stunning. I can't wait to see how it works. Here are some “before” pictures, and I’ll try arrange some “after” pictures so you can all see and let me know if the cat spa treatments really do make a difference. She seems to enjoy being pampered, coming as she does from a long line of champions, but am I not sure she will be looking forward to this shampoo as much as I am. It will be like Princess Diaries for cats.
To put her looks in perspective, a neighbor boy came over the other day. He is a great kid, about six years old, who is wonderfully transparent, with no ability at artifice. When he first saw Pearl, his face dropped, he made a disgusted face and asked, "Uh, is that what cats are supposed to look like?" Really, I can't blame him for thinking something was wrong with her. These cats do look odd. Ah well, what is a mother to do???
And then there is the cage-decorating contest with the theme of "Mid-September Night's Dream." What do you think, should I do a sparkly fantasy paper maché oyster design with my Pearl inside? Should I go with the watered taffeta the tabby was named for? Or just a lot of dreamy greenery? Fairy wings maybe?
In the end, though, there are a lot of other things going on right now, so think I'll just treat this one as a reconnaissance mission, lie low, quietly observe, take notes, and report back at the end of September. I would like to reassure you all that I have not gone off the deep end, but I can’t. I'm not so sure myself.
She'll be entered in the kitten category and I don't know what to expect at a show or what categories they are judged on. But I do know that I want her to win something. I find I really care. Isn't that weird? I really want for her to look her best. (I think most cats do get ribbons, though, it keeps people coming to the shows.) And hey, who knows, she might meet her future mate there. Hence the fancy shampoo.
The main shampoo is a dark purple color, called Snowburst, that is really for white cats. According to the breeder, though, it works great on darker cats as well. The idea, I think, is that it takes the yellow color out of their coat, so her grey will be greyer and darker (a white cat would be less yellow too, and more white). Stunning. I can't wait to see how it works. Here are some “before” pictures, and I’ll try arrange some “after” pictures so you can all see and let me know if the cat spa treatments really do make a difference. She seems to enjoy being pampered, coming as she does from a long line of champions, but am I not sure she will be looking forward to this shampoo as much as I am. It will be like Princess Diaries for cats.
To put her looks in perspective, a neighbor boy came over the other day. He is a great kid, about six years old, who is wonderfully transparent, with no ability at artifice. When he first saw Pearl, his face dropped, he made a disgusted face and asked, "Uh, is that what cats are supposed to look like?" Really, I can't blame him for thinking something was wrong with her. These cats do look odd. Ah well, what is a mother to do???
And then there is the cage-decorating contest with the theme of "Mid-September Night's Dream." What do you think, should I do a sparkly fantasy paper maché oyster design with my Pearl inside? Should I go with the watered taffeta the tabby was named for? Or just a lot of dreamy greenery? Fairy wings maybe?
In the end, though, there are a lot of other things going on right now, so think I'll just treat this one as a reconnaissance mission, lie low, quietly observe, take notes, and report back at the end of September. I would like to reassure you all that I have not gone off the deep end, but I can’t. I'm not so sure myself.
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