Kreativ Blogger Award

/ wvfurandroot / 4 Comments

The Kreativ Blogger Award was bestowed upon me some weeks ago and I have been remiss in acknowledging it.  Yes, I’m ashamed of myself, but the rules for acceptance are, in part, responsible for the delay.

The rules for accepting the award are:

1. You must thank the person who has given you the award.

Roger, luv? Thank you, thank you. My self-esteem has taken a lot of hits the past few months and recognition of any sort is welcome, but recognition for the one creative outlet I make time for means all the world. It was a good day when you stumbled onto my blog.  Please accept my apologies for the delay in acknowledging it.  In truth, it took me awhile to think of 7 interesting things about me that I was willing to share. 

2. Copy the award logo and place it on your blog.

Woo Hoo! I love a bright, shiny award jpg in the morning.  i think I’ve managed to get it over there –>

3. Link the person who has nominated you for the award.

Roger’s site is a lot of fun – lots of interesting reading there. It’s well worth spending some time at.

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.

I have known all the words to J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers The Last Kiss since I was 12 years old – decades before Pearl Jam eviscerated it. I was never much of a Pearl Jam fan, but torturing one of my favorite songs didn’t help matters much. When The Ex and I were dating I discovered that he too knew all the words – it was one of the reasons I married him.

I read a lot. When my life is normal, I average two novels a week. I’m not much of a nonfiction fan. Periodically, I skip the well-crafted, well-written, make-me-jealous-of-the-talent novels and dive into a romantic mystery. As far as I’m concerned, this genre peaked in the late 60s, early 70s. Think Susan Howatch’s The Dark Shore or any of Victoria Holt’s stuff.

I love period movies – it doesn’t matter how bad they are as long as the scenery and costuming are luscious. My first one was Barry Lyndon and I was certainly too young (12, again) to be watching it. The latest one I watched was The Madness of King George.

Since the wizened age of 8, I have been entranced with aquariums. My first experience was with two goldfish named Queen Liliuokalani and King Kamehameha in a large bowl. The King died almost immediately and the Queen died of grief shortly thereafter.

Periodically, I set up an aquarium, stock it with fish (usually angels) and kill them in short order. It’s a mystery – I do all the right things and the varmints still die. I vowed that when I retired, I was going to set up a huge saltwater aquarium and raise seahorses. Then I read about keeping seahorses. Sheesh. They’d be dead before I even got them. The amount of fussing they need is way beyond my abilities.

I love going out to lunch. In the interest of financial prudence I don’t do it much these days, but I sure do miss it. Tom Robbins summed it up best:

L-U-N-C-H. Lunch. I’m fond of lunch. I am, in fact, a lunch aficionado. Give me liberty or give me lunch. Breakfast comes around too early in the day, and dinner can interfere with one’s plans for the evening, but lunch is right on the money, the only thing it interrupts is work. . .I require lunch on a daily basis. I’m insured against non-lunch by Blue Cross, Blue Shield, and blue Cheese. Finicky? Not his luncher….I become grumpy when denied my noontide repast.

I have wanted to change my first name since I was 17 or so. In fact, I had planned to do so as soon as I turned 18, but upon further reflection decided it would be insulting to my parents. My name was a compromise: Dad wanted Monique and Mom wanted Consuela. I have never felt like a Connie and while I’ve spent fifty years with the name, I still don’t think it suits me. These days, I’m still pondering whether to take back my maiden name or keep the name I’ve been using for 25+ years. During flights of fancy, I think about changing both first and last names to something. . . um. . . else. I can never come up with anything. I suppose I could become The Woman Formerly Known as Connie.

I like oatmeal. I like oatmeal raw. Just the flakes. In a bowl. I keep oatmeal at the office along with a bowl and a spoon. Often, my lunch (see above) is oatmeal flakes. My cholesterol levels should be in negative numbers. Go figure.

One of my first acts in the morning is to fire up the Yahoo News site and click on the Most Popular tab. Up comes the news articles that have had the most hits, have been recommended to others the most or have been emailed the most often. This is my personal barometer of what people are interested in. Most days it’s depressing. Today for example, one of the most recommended news stories is the startling information that Rush Limbaugh is getting married. (That poor woman.)

5. Nominate 7 other Kreativ Bloggers.

I am so behind in my blog reading and subsequently haven’t discovered any new blogs lately. Every person on my blogroll (links in the sidebar) deserves the award. Every single one of them. They’re there because I think they’re good. So, I hereby award each and everyone of them the Kreativ Blogger Award.

Besides handing the award to all those folks, I’d like to hand the award to those of you who think you might want to blog, but just haven’t taken the plunge. Get at it! It’s a big bunch of fun and the perfect creative outlet – it doesn’t take up space, create a mess, or cost anything. Everything you need to get started is at: http://www.wordpress.com

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.

If I’ve encouraged anyone to take the plunge, send me your link and I’ll post it.

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs to let them know they have been nominated.

I haven’t done this yet, but I intend to.

Someday

/ wvfurandroot / 7 Comments

The Old Library Table

I have painted, hammered, drilled, sorted, sifted, stuffed, trashed, deleted, filed, washed, dusted, sanded, stained, toted, tarried, carried and collapsed. I am tired.

I am finally in my study doing study-type stuff and, no, the room is not done. But it is usable.

The irony of the situation would provoke guffaws if I was not too tired to chortle, much less expend the energy a good guffaw would entail. Since February 10th, more or less, this project has consumed the second floor of my home. At present, the guest bedroom and hallway are still trashed. And will be, I expect, for another week or so. I am flat-out dreading the dragging of the trash to the trash cans.

The study project has been a Someday for years now. A fresh coat of paint was absolutely necessary. The carpet cleaning was equally vital. The de-junking and organizing will keep me from having to search through hundreds of floppy disks trying to find stuff.  The fruition of time arrived and Someday became Today.

The Beloved Bookcase

As I sit here surveying the room, I’m reminded yet again that I am not cut out for minimalism. I can admire such from afar, but in close proximity we just can’t get along. My goal was to create a clean, well-appointed, organized space free of clutter and junk.

I got rid of (no! really!) a lot of junk, but I must like clutter – especially clutter comprised of books and mementoes. I’ve faced the choice of culling The Stuff or learning to live with it; I’m choosing the latter. So there. By my standards, the room is clean and mostly organized so I did accomplish some of my goals. (And I did trash a huge heap of obsolete computer crap.)

So here I sit. That irony bit? Well, the desktop computer and printer both resolutely refuse to work. So, I had to drag the laptop up here. And you know what else? This time of year, I generally hang out with the keyboard downstairs because it is too hot to think Great Thoughts upstairs much after mid-May. And I couldn’t use this room, the warmest in the house, during the worst of the cold winter because the room was being demolished. Once again, I am out of synch with the universe.

It’s hot up here.

The World's Ugliest Bookcase

I’m trying to think Great Thoughts and the best I can come up with is the Great Truth that I find just the physical presence of books comforting. I’m a little disappointed that the World’s Ugliest Bookcase is going to have to come back in here (after it gets a coat of paint), but I’d rather suffer ugly furniture that get rid of the books.

It really doesn’t matter that many of them I’ll never read again. Space limitations are creeping up on me and Someday, I’m going to have to get rid of a bunch of them, but that someday is not now. Hallelujah. I have a pretty good idea of the emotional toll and intellectual consternation that will arise as I pick up each book and decide if it goes in a keep pile or a get rid of pile. I’m breaking into hives just thinking about it.

I suspect I’m not the only person that can ruthlessly trash some unused items, but not others. I also suspect that I’m not the only person that finds it easier to trash stuff the older I get. After 30 years of saving shit for Someday, I’m figuring out that Someday isn’t going to happen.

Which brings me around to a quote I ran across the other day – It’s never too late to be who you might have been. –George Eliot.

Ain’t that a dandy?

George Eliot

There are lots of Whos I might have been. Some I’m grateful to have averted. Others might have been exhilarating. But in the end, here I am. A woman who spends an inordinate amount of time with books.

I’m more than a little cranky that the desktop computer won’t work. I had decided it was time for me to become a Who who finally bangs out a novel. I figured my first attempt would be dreck and I’m comfortable with that truth. I’m not sure why, but I don’t want to write my Drecky Great American Novel on the laptop.

For decades now, I’ve said that someday I’m going to write a novel. Well. That Someday is here. Or pert near.  As soon as I get the desktop working. . .

Lucy and Ethel Build Shelves

/ wvfurandroot / 8 Comments

Before

Bit by bit, the Great Study Remodel of 2010 is approaching conclusion.

In February, I dragged everything out of the study. I patched the walls and ceiling. I primed. I painted. I whined.

All that stuff I dragged out? It’s been sitting in the upstairs hallway plotting ways to do damage to my body as I tunneled my way to the master bedroom. It’s been sitting there devising diabolical plans lo these many weeks.

Amongst the flotsam and jetsam was the world’s ugliest dresser used to store sundry computer crap dating back to the early 90s, various plastic containers housing yet more junk, boxes of old college papers and unfinished short stories, and my son’s taekwondo stuff. There are boxes of cards sent to me, boxes of old photographs, and a box of all my reading glasses from the olden days when I used to coordinate such to my wardrobe. (Alas, they are now all too weak to correct my eyesight.)

And books. Lots of books. Feet and feet of books. Some of the books were shelved on the world’s ugliest bookcase.

After I dragged all the crap out and put it in the hallway thinking this would be a quick project, I began painting. After finishing the painting, I was stunned by what an attractive room it was. A room that didn’t need to be cluttered up. A room needing to be somewhat spare, yet housing all my treasures.

I vowed (yes, I did) that 90% of the crap I hauled out was not going back in there. In fact, all that crap was going to a landfill.

And functional. I want the room to be a correctly appointed room for me to do Something Worthwhile.

[That’s a tricky thought. The past couple of years the study mostly served as the place where I scan photographs and stare out window while drinking coffee. I have high hopes of doing something constructive in there once I get done.]

Still. Even paring down to what I consider bare essentials was going to result in a lot of surface clutter. I also vowed that ugly dresser and ugly bookcase were not going back into the room. I also pondered how to get the computer crap off of my 1920s library table.

I peered at the closet.

I measured.

Almost After

I decided. Oh, yes I did.  And it was a good decision. I hate looking at computer equipment when it’s not in use and stuffing it all in the closet seemed like a stroke of genius.

By mid-March, I was down to 3 tasks – build shelving and a desktop into the closet, shampoo the carpet, and sort through all the crap only dragging back into the room that which I truly loved. Oh. And stain the leather chair brown – more on that later.

The first project was to complete the shelving in the closet to turn it into a miniature office. First it was too snowy and then I was too busy and then I was sick and then it was too rainy and then I was too busy and then I couldn’t summon any ambition.

Ambition welled during this 3-day weekend when I have much more time than usual.

Today, my mother (69) and myself (50), dragged out old shelving left over from the Great Master Bedroom Remodel. The plan was to cut it to width, cantilever it on the walls with wood laying around here and there, touch up the stain and paint the supports. [Cantilever is not the exact term I want, but I can’t summon the correct one. Trust me, a true cantilever is way beyond anything I’d ever try to do.]

Two old-ish women bearing bifocals and hot- flashing in 90F weather shouldn’t be allowed near power tools. Nevertheless.

The first three shelves we tortured on the table saw were too short. (Twinky tape measures, sweat and astigmatism are anathema to good carpentry.) We eventually prevailed without (a) a trip to the emergency room, or (b) angry words spoken to one another. [During this stage of the adventure, my father ambled out to see what all the noise was about and quickly returned to the safety of his study.]

We couldn’t find screws long enough and when we did they weren’t wood screws. We dug through workshops, toolboxes, and kitchen junk drawers collecting wood screws one by one. It’s difficult to explain exactly why, but attaching wood to walls with a corded drill required both us to stand on the ladder at the same time – one to hold and one to drill. It’s a small closet. We’re full-grown women. The ladder was a traditional size. I looked at Mom and said, “Lucy and Ethel build shelves.” We both got the giggles and had to sit a spell while we discussed which of us is Lucy.

Future Brown Chair

We  did, in fact, attach shelving to the walls.  We also put a shitload of books on one of them to make sure future concussions were out of the question, and declared the project done. Before we could gather up the debris, we got the  bright idea to cut a hole in the desktop portion (actually two shelves shoved together) to pass computer cords through. Playing with table saws and hand-held drills was exciting enough, but finagling the drill press was especially exciting.  You kind of had to be there.  Picture Lucy and Ethel at the candy factory.

We did not do any of this in a way a carpenter would recognize as best practice. Still, there is shelving on the wall to house books and a desktop to hold the monitor, keyboard and printer. There’s room under the desktop for the CPU, the ensuing rat’s nest of cables and, perhaps, a box of junk or two. [I have to be realistic – there will most assuredly be absolutely useless crap that I can’t bear to trash, but don’t intend to use.]

I’m tired. I’m hot. I’m sweaty and there’s a thin layer of sawdust in my hair and on my glasses. It took way longer than I had anticipated. I had expected to have everything done today except for weeding through the crap in the hallway.

Tomorrow I will touch up paint and stain the shelving and shampoo the carpet. I hope to at least begin the Great Purge of the hallway. The Trash Guys are going to hate me.

[As for the leather chair – I have a blue wing chair that is Entirely The Wrong Color for the study, but which I love. Back in February, I dabbled some walnut stain to the bottom of the seat cushion to see What Would Happen. It wasn’t bad, but it took a couple of weeks to dry. I’m going to do the whole chair. Not today. Or tomorrow. Or even next week. Eventually.]