Year's End

This was a good yet hard year. Aren’t they all?

These are some of the past year’s posts -- ones that I like most, feel all special about or best illustrate some shit or other. Yes, try to remember that I'm your très sophisticated and eloquent friend...and shit.

There were posts about Neurofibromatosis Type II and the brilliant docs from my Pit Crew:
Good Vibrations   
Dr. Michael McKenna arrived at MGH and onto the Maderer Brain Pit Crew in 1989. He’d missed my first surgery by seven years but he’s been with me for every single one since then.
The Day The Music Died  
It was the year I turned 46 that my hearing took the last train for the coast.

Tales from my wild days as a Carnie:
Carnival Kidnapping
This was at the end of my first season with the show and I was majorly sick of the 1950s-esque restrictions. You know, “don’t sleep with any of the guys unless you’re gonna shack up with him for the season.” You see, everyone would think I was nothing but a stone whore if I just went off for a one night stand. Christ, I thought I’d escaped high school tiny brained male/female horseshit!
Northline
In November of each year, back in the my carny days of the late ‘70s, 5 or 6 different shows ended the season by coming together, melding into one giant carnival in the mall’s parking lot. A collection of small to mid size carnivals became one oceanically colossal midway.
Galahad, Heracles and Keith Partridge
Beware the beautiful, studly Tiger Beat-esque heartthrob lookalikes. More often than not they carry deep senses of entitlement along with the sure knowledge, if only in their own minds, that others will happily do for them.

Essays about friends:
Kevin Alexander Scott
Prior to Kevin there’d been no one I could really let my hair down/ bare the old soul/be utterly ME with. I was too monstrously afraid -- so sure was I that NO one could possibly like me if I showed my true form. (Manticora on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Ljubljana Dragon on Tuesdays and Thursdays -- I take the weekends off ‘natch).
Werewolf with a Chinese Menu
We met at Rodney’s beforehand -  a used and rare book sellers. Meeting there, I’d sorta forgotten, is a sure fire way to fall into a serious fold in time, only to awake 6 hours into the future, dazed and toting a sack of 20 books.

Short fiction and comics!
From Della Marinis -- Through April Woods
I walked ahead because the others dragged their feet. The woods were damp and cool that morning and the sky a deep blue I hadn’t seen in months. The scent was resonant, speaking something other than the city so that I became lost in it and didn’t hear the approaching crackle of leaves underfoot. Not at first.
Brian Luciano -- Wild Ride
I walked into my house with unbelievable pain in my lower back and the realization that Dan was dead -- never coming back to the house. The police had finished questioning me hours earlier and released me.
and Jen, The Pirate Blogger -- The Moosewood Commute
The return of Jen the Pirate Blogger and yes, we rilly, rilly do eat like this.  You may commence with the major league sympathy for Bob and Oni any time you're ready.

We had travel adventures:
Reunions and Language Adventures
Della lives in Berlin and doesn’t get back to the States much -- I live in Boston and don’t need much of an excuse to travel ("oh look, the sun came up -- let’s go!"). Jen and I packed our rucksacks and made our way to the airport.
from Jenny Jones -- An Anniversary in the Gila Wilderness
As a resident of Phoenix, AZ, I always try to get someplace cooler, with lots of trees when I go on vacation. So, to celebrate our fourth anniversary, in October of 2009, my husband John and I chose the Gila Wilderness area in Southwestern New Mexico.

We had poetry
from The Amazing Bob -- A Bird for Nixon and Kissinger
It’s Veteran’s Day -- a complicated thing for Bob and I. He was in the Air Force during Viet Nam -- 2 tours.
from Vonnegut, McGrath and Alexi -- Hyacinths and Biscuits
The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese. -- Golbert K. Chesterton

There were massive changes recounted:
I lost my mother -- this is the post I wrote after my last visit with her just four months before she went on to the great library and pizzelli factory in the sky.
Mother and Food Reunion

This was the year of Jen’s boobectomy and retrofitting.
Stayin' Alive

We provided tremendously valuable instructions and rants:
The Fine Art of Head Banging
I bet you thought there was just one way to do it. Hell, even within the relatively narrow spectrum of Metal, there are at least 3 distinct ways to bang.
Cars are Cars 
 For every Lamborghini, for every Bugati, for every Jaguar there’s a boring ass SUV or 50, along with a whole slew of chubby, featureless smaller boxes. It’s like being in the auto equivalent of a Botero painting only with less color and humor.

Come, set a spell, put on your reading glasses. I’ll get you a nice cup of chianti and tell you a story or 50.

Happy New Year y'all!

The Reviews—Take II

The review sites for doctors seems to be different from the Yelp and Angie’s List type review sites. That is, there doesn’t seem to be the same ballot box stuffing. You know, where the biz owner, manager, marketing department and/or friends and family of the biz praise it to no end. Then you see a bunch of not so slick, but more real sounding, poor to horrid reviews.

This article from The Chicago Tribune News is well worth a read: Doctors: Web ratings flawed—Critics say Web scores based on few reviews are unfair, unreliable

‘But the sites are still not attracting enough ratings to give consumers useful information. Critics, including the American Medical Association, argue that manipulated, inaccurate or anonymous ratings could hurt a doctor's reputation.
"If there is a 'wisdom of the crowds,' on most sites, there is no crowd," said Dr. Jeffrey Segal, chief operating officer of Medical Justice, which works to protect doctors against online defamation and improve the health care system. "The average doctor sees between (1,000) and 3,000 patients a year, yet the typical site has zero to three posts. That doesn't even come close to a scintilla of statistical significance."’

My take? These sites are just one tool to use when doctor hunting—definitely NOT a one stop shop type thing.

I looked at Rate MDs and Insider Pages, entering in some of my own medics. What I found wasn’t surprising. Where folks have left comments, versus just clicking a quantity of rating stars, two of my regular docs have equal amounts of loved-him/her and will-never-see-this-physician-again notes. I can totally dig it. I understand both the praise and censure.

Here’s the dealio though—what is insufficient and/or offensive for one patient is small beer to another. For most of us, bedside manner is hu-YUGE, after competence and dependability. How can you know that your primary care physician/surgeon/specialist is totally engaged and involved with your case if they seem at all checked out. I've on occasion wondered if the good doc's mind has been on another, possibly more clinically interesting, patient? Or dinner at No.9 Park later? Reigning in that wretched contractor who’s supposed to be working his/her house?

I’m a fairly pushy broad though (those of you who know me are going all ‘gee, duh RILLY, Donna. We’d never have guessed!'). If I feel my concerns are being fluffed off by any of my Healer Pit Crew (a wickedly RARE occurrence, mind you) I’ve got no prob saying ‘yo, over here—you payin’ attention or what?’ Not everyone is gonna be all bumptiously attentive to their own needs though. Going to the doc, especially for a big ass thing like neurofibromatosis type 2, can be scary as all hell. It can even inspire yours-ever-so-truly to timidity at times.

Having my metaphorical head patted and hands held is needed. It’s BIG. But I have to be cosseted in ways I can understand—in a manner that works for my crazy-ass unique self.

My Neurotologist  Michael McKenna? All good, stellar even, reviews—everywhere I looked. Of course!

Not every bones/employer/friend//barista/Facebook acquaintance is gonna be the right fit for us. Life is about exploration and discovery. Get some.

Stopping By Beach on a Snowy Evening

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

.................

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. 

Robert Frost/New Hampshire 1923 

I don't have snowy wood pics. 

The snow's just starting here today. I'm hoping to get out at dawn to capture more of our grand beach in snow. These shots are from previous years.

Cats and Oz Friday

We had another demonically deranged storm here yesterday.

Wreck of the Hesperus -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Colder and louder blew the wind,

      A gale from the Northeast,

The snow fell hissing in the brine,

      And the billows frothed like yeast.

(more of the poem at the link)

At the ungodly hour of 4 AM when I attempted to step out onto the porch, on the off chance that either Rocco or Gaston was hungry and addled enough to come out of their respective lairs, the wind nearly yanked me free. I was THIS close to doing a Dorothy. I held onto the door fiercely though and managed to pull myself back inside.

Always alert Coco

Moments later, Coco fetched me -- herding me to the window. There was Rocco, scurrying under my work bench, to relative rain-free safety. Yes OF COURSE I braved the torrent again -- our feral boy was hungry.

Rocco being unusually mellow

Coco’s very good, persistent even, about alerting me when company arrives. Yup, she tapped me when Gaston showed up too.

This morning, apart from my trike brake being frozen solid (it thawed out in the sun, thank Kali!) you’d never suspect that, on Thursday, we were 6 steps east of Oz. Today is gorgeous beyond belief -- apart from the 30º temps that is.

today's calm sea

Procol Harum -- Wreck of the Hesperus

The Reviews

Angie's List, Yelp and other review type sites -- great idea BUT who’s more likely to comment, to post about their experiences?  Happy customers or angry ones?

When I’ve had a fine meal out at, say, Frog and Peach (AKA Fox and Hound) or gotten fab service from my plumber, I’ve not written up a Yelp review or gone to Angie’s List to praise the abundant virtues of Chenette Plumbing and Heating or the absolute wizardry of Wendy’s  cocktail crafting. Nope. I AM, however, inclined to rant and rage about poor or flat out wretched experiences though.

That I’ve NOT written rave reviews on Yelp or Angies List doesn’t mean I’m, in any way at all, unhappy with the service and/or goods received.

Of course studies have been done on JUST this! From the Journal of Service Research

They tested and found that customers from cultures with lower individualism or higher uncertainty avoidance tend to have a higher intention to praise if they received superior service. On the other hand, the same groups tend not to switch, give negative word of mouth, or complain even if they received poor service quality. Customers from cultures with higher individualism or lower uncertainty avoidance tend to switch, engage in negative word of mouth, or complain if they received poor service quality. But they do not tend to praise when they received superior service.Journal of Service Research, Volume 4, No. 2, November 2001 118-129

© 2001 Sage Publications
Ben Shaw-Ching Liu  -- Butler University, Olivier Furrer -- University of Birmingham, United Kingdom, Sudharshan -- University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign

So, there ya go -- it’s not just me. It’s America!

I’m tremendously suspicious of stunning reviews and purpley praise. Are the great reports from the business owners themselves? friends? family? employees? the marketing department? Or is the rave from a genuinely satisfied customer?

I’ve used Angie’s List only once. We’d just moved down here, to The Neck, and needed a contractor to deal with a serious sill issue. I found a great recommendation for someone close by -- in the next town over. Our resulting experience was so screamingly horrendous that I’ve not used the site since. The repairs were executed reasonably well but without the finesse god gave a shithouse rat and we were charged four times the initial quote. The grifting piece of locust excrement vanished before completing the job too. His name was Fitzgerald and he was, maybe still is, in Milton, Massachusetts.
STEER CLEAR!

So then, never again with Angie’s List.

I look at Yelp primarily for restaurant tips. Most recently, I was trying to find our Christmas Day Chinese food feast. Our usual place had changed hands.

It was Five Spices -- now it’s Tung Long Garden.

The good review first:

Tung Long Garden is awesome authentic Chinese cuisine.  The flavors are clean and the food tastes of fresh ingredients.  It's also much healthier than your traditional American Style Chinese.  It's like a taste of China Town right here in Quincy.  Everything I've tried so far has been superb.  I'm a pretty picky about Chinese food too...

To me, this reeks of marketing ad copy or owner’s pride.  'The flavors are clean and the food tastes of fresh ingredients.' in particular.

That stellar assessment was followed by this one:

Worst delivery, and Chinese food, experience everrr. The guy on the phone was rude & impatient (was upset that i didn't clarify sizes from the outset, though he hadn't asked). The food was horrible when it arrived - We just finished & I already feel sick. Sweet & Sour Shrimp were large balls of dough & the Stuffed Tofu w/ Shrimp Paste was just squares of cooked tofu. The photos on this site could not be further from accurate. We called the restaurant to let them know the soup had broken open & spilled all over the bag & the guy became upset, saying it wasn't his fault & asking what "i expected [him] to do about it." Super disappointed & frustrated that I spent so much here over the place I was originally about to order from. Do nooooot waste your money!

Now THIS sounds like a genuinely pissed off human being giving an honest assessment. There are other, very similar, castigations as well as other comparable praising odes.

The Amazing Bob and I ended up ordering from Great Chow (cute name eh) based on a friend’s recommendation. The result? The meat in TAB’s chicken fingers was dried out to the consistency of sawdust infused rawhide chews. His veggie fried rice should’ve been called onion fried rice -- that being the only apparent veggie.

I got sushi -- spicy tuna roll specifically and it was fabulous. Just stunning. Seriously, I’m drooling as I think of it again. My veggie lo mein though was boring and not exactly veggie packed. Molto miserly on the produce even -- one pea pod and one red pepper slice.

Here are the Yelp Reviews for Great Chow. Doesn’t seem like they’re stuffing the ballot box. Em...yea them?

Maybe the good thing about Yelp is that I can see where NOT to spend my money.

So This is Christmas

I woke this morning to a very light snowfall. I’d heard we were in for a storm later so hopped on the trike for an early, beat-the-blizzard ride. I didn’t expect to see a soul on the roads at seven on Christmas morning but there we all were -- runners, walkers and me -- huffing along, giving each other a smile and wave. I believe The Neck must be Morning Person Central. Home!

On my return, I got my first and bestest Christmas present EVAH. Rocco was on the porch, in the cat cave, waiting for his morning tuna. He’d been MIA the last two days and, after the damage he took this past summer, I was worried -- more than I could admit to meself or anyone else.

Christ on kibble, I’m glad he’s home and healthy!

That's our feral beastie, at left, napping atop a pillow and pile of old clothes on my outdoor workbench.

After my post ride hot shower and power nap The Amazing Bob and I
had our traditional Christmas lunch of Chinese food while watching Scrooged -- one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time. Bill Murray is awesome plus but Carol Kane is positively transcendent. See it if only to catch her performance. Look for the toaster scene.

Funny as this flick is, I always get leaky eyes at the end. Redemption movies get me every damned time. I wanna believe this could happen to Dick Cheney, Rupert Murdoch, Limbaugh and so many more.

eh, not holding my breath.

Happy Day, all!

So This is Christmas
John Lennon and Yoko Ono

So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

Soap

Note to self: PAY BETTER ATTENTION in the book store. I was in the used book basement at Brookline Booksmith the other day, cruising for something light and fun. I found True Confessions by Rachel Gibson. Never heard of her but the synopsis hooked me. The protagonist is a tabloid journo:

Hope Spencer knows wacky: as a writer for The Weekly News of the Universe she's "spotted" Bigfoot, Elvis, and the face of Jesus on a tortilla. Arriving in Gospel hoping for some peace and quiet and normal . . . she quickly figures out that there's nothing normal going on in Gospel. From the Barnes sisters with their color-coordinated hair, to the toilet-tossing sportsmen . . . to the murder victim whose body had been found in her house years before, the Gospel truth really is stranger than fiction—even tabloid fiction. Hell, she should have stayed in L.A.

What double plus hooked me was the cover plug by Jane Anne Phillips, an author I’ve really enjoyed.  Yeah, Phillips is more of a dark, brooding, thoughtful writer but hey, she could like and recommend wacky stuff too. right?

Ah, not this time, no. The praising blurb was from Jayne Ann Krentz -- a romance novelist.

Sigh.

I’m just not the romance novel type. Nothing wrong with them. I understand the appeal but they seriously don’t do it for me.

I think the mega watt enmity I carry for them is similar-ish to my knee jerk antipathy toward TV shows like Dallas and Beverly Hills, 90210.

What’s the similarity between romance novels and lame ass TV shows?  I can’t relate to either at all.

The shows -- I’ve never been rich and powerful, will never be rich and powerful nor will I ever be so spectacularly fashion impaired.

I've never had issues like this:

Beverly Hills, 90210 The Final Proof, Episode 16, 2/9/00
Shane demands a one-million-dollar ransom from Dylan. Noah, the kidnapee, points out that it may have been smarter to kidnap someone whom Dylan actually likes.

OK, a bad example -- that ep sounds pretty funny.

Dallas, season 4, episode 10: Executive Wife
Pam feels neglected by Bobby's increased preoccupation with Ewing Oil; J.R. pressures Jock to complete a deal that conflicts with Bobby's interests.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
And more ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Yeah I know, it’s make believe. It’s a soap opera but still -- terribly hard to relate to the trials and tribulations of the dramatically wealthy and sartorially challenged. Possibly I could have watched either show had there been 25 fewer popped collars, a tenth as many giant shouldered power suits, 5 pounds less blusher per cheek, per person and zero levels of big hair.

Nah.

As for the romance novels -- the female protagonist is always model thin, beautiful and busty. She’s a bit ashamed of her ‘assets,’ we’re told, as she dons her sports bra and shorts for a run over to the local bar.

She’s always bold, independently minded and has just suffered some heavy emotional (never physical) set back -- her husband left her for the younger woman, the fiance jilted her for the younger woman, the boyfriend kicked her to the curb, (on her birthday yet), for a younger woman. If there are multiple set backs, the main one, the fire starter is always the ignominious dumparooni.

The fairy-tale man prize is always blazingly good looking with some minuscule flaw (a crooked tooth, a persistent but charming cowlick, one eye dark chocolate brown -- the other bright sky blue) to, ya know, humanize him. He seems, only to our heroine, to be uninterested. Then he is but now she’s feeling nervous, scared and petulant over some perceived slight.

Three quarters of the way through the book they face some trauma together, realize they’re made for each other, drop into the nearest bed/field of clover/Jaguar and play St. George and the Dragon.

I think, generally, fluorescent sunsets, cranes taking flight, fireworks and trains entering tunnels ensue.

Spare me and pass the John Scalzi, please. I like my fiction with a dash of realism.

Random Bits of Fluff

Picture this. A brilliant, clear morning -- inches before sunrise. Clothed in layers of wool and, supposedly, toasty fleece, I roll (on the trike) out of the driveway and onto Edgewater Drive.

Being all smart and shit, I checked the temperature before donning my triking outfit. 29° That being a mite chilly, I put yoga pants over my leggings as well as a pair of footies under those fleece lined socks.

My lovely but not warm fleece socks

Awesome! I was good to go. Gorgeous morning, I ought to be able to ride forever or until my legs liquify -- whichever comes first. Right?

After 45 minutes my toes were threatening to go on strike for Thorlos® Mountaineering Socks with an Extremities Thinny chaser.

An hour into the ride the toes quit speaking to me.

At the hour and a half mark, my feet had started divorce proceedings. I came in and drowned them in a tub of steamy hot water.

If I’m gonna bike through the winter, and I am, I’m going to have to break down and buy socks that simulate Hades in July. Fat trike tires too. And a neon, lime green vest.

Hi, my name is Donna and I’m a trike geek.
_______________________________________________________________________________

Now

Then

I woke the other night from a vivid dream where I was meeting an old potter friend. His studio was still in the group space we shared in Somerville, Massachusetts. I was thrilled to see him -- it’s been years. I was equally psyched to see his awesome wife again. As we exited the building, he introduced me to a buoyant, animated and attractive female friend. The three of us took off on our bikes (in my dreams I can be on two versus three wheels) up Broadway toward the Winter Hill section of town. It became clear, as we pedaled up the slope, that the two were having an affair.

Post dream I was bothered, worried and confused. Why? I’ve not seen my chum and his wife in over ten years. Last I heard they were happy profs and parents at a university in the north west. Why did it affect me so much?

Dream number two. I was returning to the daily grind, specifically to the gritty, old Back Bay press room where I worked throughout my 30s. My position, production manager, was no longer open so I was hired to run the Heidelberg GTO 46. To get to my press I had to crawl, climb and shimmy through a tight labyrinth of huge pastel colored, crusty steam pipes. I arrived at the press only to remember that I’d never run one of those suckers before.


And then I opened my eyes. That pressroom, where I met so many of my wonderful friends, no longer exists. The building itself is long gone -- replaced by a big, gleaming glass Apple store.

Why is this cluttering my unconscious thoughts?
________________________________________
And finally, what IS it with cats and boxes?

Yin and Yang Redux

Here’s what I’ve loved about Facebook -- it’s like a big party where you can meet new friends and re-meet old ones.

I’ve talked about my pal Jenny before -- how we went to the same high school but didn’t know one another  Through her I met her wonderful sister Michal, the Balm of Idaho (Pennsylvania)  Michal’s been there for me during some very hard times and, wildly, I didn’t even know her a few years ago.

One of the great things about Michal, our politics aren’t always in sync (though they are more than not) but there’s no bomb throwing, sniping arguments -- no land mine filled conversations.

She presents her views and backs them up with facts and vice versa. Then we get back to talking about carnivals, surgeries, CATS, food and whatever else is on our minds. It’s refreshingly civil!

And then there are my cousins Gary and Della. Our mothers were close but us kiddles hadn’t kept in touch. I’m, (understatement alert), tremendously happy we’ve reconnected

Through Gary I met his childhood pal Heike -- a total kindred spirit. I’ve met her, live and in person, just once -- the day after my mother’s funeral. Yup, I always like to have my best foot forward when I meet new people.

That's Heike, me and Michal -- two phenomenal angels (of the arch and seraphim variety, of
 course). After mia madre’s funeral, Michal drove me into Pittsburgh. We met Heike for lunch at Salim’s, a fabulous Middle Eastern joint and then did a wee bit of shopping at a street fair in some young, hip part of town. Afterwards, Heike toted my carcass to the airport.

I didn’t know any of these wonderful folk, cousins included, just a few years ago.

On the other side of the Isn’t-Facebook-Grand coin sit all the folks whose ‘friend requests’ I’ve accepted and then, later, rescinded. There are the acquaintances to whom I’ve sent ‘friend requests’ only to find that there was an exceptionally good reason or three as to why we weren’t friends in high school or fell out of touch post college.

It’s honestly not more than a handful but it makes me uncomfortable and unhappy. The deal breaking you’re-not-evolved-enough-to-get-on-this-ride scenario usually comes down to, in one way or another, human rights issues. I'm forever surprised and saddened by the willful ignorance of reality and opaque callousness of some of the folks I meet/re-meet.

This is that whole Yin and Yang thing again, huh? You can’t have good experiences/friends/adventures without the bad.

Also too, all of life comes down to one of my old carnival calls -- you can’t win if you don’t play.

Coco the Art Historian

This is Coco doing her impression of Antoni Tàpies's Relleu negre per a Documenta, 1964.
Or, quite possibly she's

doing Kazimir Malevich's Black Suprematistic Square,1914-15. She likes to keep me guessing.

Here she's channeling Frida Kahlo (without the monkey this time) or, perhaps Artemisia Gentileschi just before she got worked up enough to paint Judith Beheading Holofernes.

And hey, if you're traveling today, to far flung homelands for the holidays -- be careful! Stop for caffeine and cookie breaks, stretch your legs, breathe deeply and stay hydrated!

smother, smother, smother, fuss, fuss...

Born to (S)mother

I remember, in Woody Allen’s  Love and Death, the character Boris Dimitrovich Grushenko waxing mordant about his lot in life as a wheat farmer. I distinctly recall him exasperatingly finishing his rant with something along the lines of, ‘if I had a tattoo it would say Born to Raise Wheat.’

Of course I can’t find it anywhere, no matter how much of a Google-sweat I break, but I swear it’s in there!

My tat? Should be Born to (S)mother.
The morning started like this:

Coco wakes me up at 4, as usual and, as always, wants me to carry her downstairs and into the kitchen where her food bowls dwell.  She sniffs her food and, same as every morning, I encourage her to take a bite,  

‘it’s the Wild Salmon Primavera -- your favorite. Eat, eat.’

Afterward, I bring breakfast out to our feral porch visitor cat Rocco, who’s waiting patiently and warmly in his cat cave. Carefully and slowly, so that he’s not scared out of his toasty cube, I set his plate down and say,

‘here’s your breakfast, good boy. Eat, eat.’

Gaston, another of the porch cat league, shows up a little later and sits, not so patiently directly in front of the door. For him,

‘relax fuzzy boy. Eat slower and taste your food. It’s the chicken Fancy Feast that you like.’

Then The Amazing Bob comes down the stairs, hits the kitchen and starts pouring his cereal. TAB’s not a morning person like yours truly. You’d think after 27+ years together I’d have learned to waltz a wee bit less manically around him at 6:30 AM. Nope.

‘How’d you sleep?’
‘How do your bones feel this morning?’
‘Can I get you some tea? a cookie? some eggs? toast?’

Then I start in on all the amazing things I’ve read that morning (at ThinkProgress, Crooks and Liars, Balloon Juice and Tbogg of course), a list of the errands and tasks for the day and questions about the meaning of life.

As you can well imagine this goes over about as well as Gigli, the Pontiac Aztec and deep fried Twinkies.

Bob redirects me by pointing out that Rocco and Gaston are involved in a nasty hissing match.

So, of course, I have to go outside with some catnip, crunchy salmon treats and mild chiding.

‘Calm down you two. Chill. There’s plenty of food. Eat, eat! You need more Tuna Feast? You need more water -- I’ll go get.’

 I am become my mother, the destroyer of hunger.

Walking on a Wire

Hi, my name is Donna and I’m a trike addict.

When I set out for my ride on Saturday morning I was molto bummed to find my left rear wheel flat. FLAT! The nerve, the gall! Annoyingly, and this’ll def change, I don’t know how to fix my own damned flats.

Oni offered but he and Jen were busy helping Erin move over to Rigel-3. So the fix would have to wait.

Meantime, I went for a long walk and was jarringly reminded of what I love most about the trike.

I don’t fall over.

Yeah, I’ve always been a big ol’ klutz but that was ramped up after my first surgery (at the tender-ish age of 23) when the first of my balance nerves was severed (had to be so my awesome surgeon guy Ojemann, AKA God, could get at and remove Moby Schwannoma). My foozle footedness went into overdrive after the second and final balance nerve was clipped (at 40).

So, how the hell do I stay upright at all? There’s three systems working in concert to keep each of us from toppling over like drunks on a Saturday night bender.

From Writings on the Martial Arts, The Real Sixth Sense, Balance in the Martial ArtsBy Stefan Verstappen

You've got three mechanisms keeping you upright. Your vestibular system (inner ear) senses rotation in all three rotational axes. Your proprioceptive system tells you where you are in space by where your muscles feel *they* are in space. Your vision tells you where you are in space by a combination of binocular vision and shading interpretation.

So, I’m down to two now. Here’s the dealio -- I have to train my vision and proprioceptive system to pick up the slack. This isn’t some magical, automatic Sixth Sense thing. Sadly, I didn’t spring out of my hospital bed with the grace and talent of Gelsey Kirkland. Very sadly. I need to walk regularly and concentrate so that I’m not weaving all over creation and toppling over in slight breezes. I need to visually pay attention to where I’m at in relation to my surroundings. That is, I do if I want to stay all perpendicular like.

I still need muscle memory and touch when I’m triking, in addition to vision (duh) BUT it’s easier than walking. Way. The two wheels at the back end provide stability -- I don’t tip over as I surely would with a two wheeler. That this is a recumbent trike ups my balance quotient  -- I’m not leaning forward (which always throws me off).

Where does all this leave me? Resolving to, once again, take long walks -- that’s where. The trike is 999 levels of fun AND it’s actually real and true exercise too BUT I also need the work out that walking affords to my proprioceptive system.

Hmmph. When the snow comes (and sticks and piles up) walking will be it -- I'll be off the road. I need to get into shape for it now. Maybe some hikes in The Blue Hills would make the trike-less months less onerous, eh?

Meantime, Oni fixed the flat and I am OFF!

Walking on a Wire -- Richard and Linda Thompson

Mellow Yellow

Yellow 3 legged pitcher and cup

Holly Sears vase

My trike has a flat (which I’m unable to fix -- lame ass twit that I am), it’s been cold and raining for three days now with no end in sight and the news blows. Know what this calls for? You betcha -- YELLOW!

Holly Sears vase

Above, left is a three legged pitcher with cup (there’s two cups actually). I have a set in a rose-ish color as well. They were bunches of fun to make and they make me smile.

At right and left is my absolute favorite Holly Sears vase.

OK, these are more orange than yellow BUT they’re cookies!
Carrot macaroons. with almonds -- WHERE have you been all my life?

Love the tagline for AKA Marvelicious ‘saving the planet one cookie at a time.’
Awesome!

_________________________________________________________

Is this, Reputation.com, for real or is it some Onion-esque send up?

Fra Angelico, The Massacre of the Innocents

What is Online Reputation Management? In a nutshell, online reputation management, or ORM as it’s known, is the practice of making people and businesses look their best on the Internet. To accomplish that, people need to control their online search results because they frequently contain inaccurate, misleading or outdated material which can adversely influence how web searchers view them. 

Online reputation management became necessary with the advent of social networks, online forums, blogs and other forms of online communication and information sharing. But since current laws are insufficient to prevent total strangers from damaging your online reputation or harvesting your private information, online reputation management is now critical.

Is this a service that Dick Cheney, the Bush family, Blackwater (now Academi), Bushmaster and BP  have?

Is it possible to wash the blood of innocents out of your soul?

And we finish with Thelma in her cat bed. Grey on Grey. Whistler would be thrilled.


Mellow Yellow -- Donovan

Favorite Things

One of the great things, something I miss, about sharing studio space is seeing and sometimes swapping art/craft. These are some of my favorite mugs. The mugs serve, often enough, as place holders in my mind’s eye for the phenomenal sculptural work these artists create.

David Orser

David Orser. This is just one small bit of what David’s all about. He’s moved up to Maine but I occasional see him when I’m up in Portland. You can find his work (and him too) there at The Maine Potters Market. Check him out at Cedar Mountain Potters.

Greg Pierce

Ellen Huie

Holly Sears

Eons past, Greg Pierce and I shared space in Somerville, Massachusettts. He  is now an art professor out at Columbia Basin College in Pasco, Washington. Way back when we were sharing studio space, he was an amazing potter/sculptor.  We were both into the concept of creating functional sculpture. You know -- art that also worked on a functional kind of level-- a mug, a fountain, a tea pot, a soup bowl.

We’ve fallen out of touch but I’m sure he’s still an amazing potter/sculptor.

Ellen Huie is amazing. That’s all -- just fabulously amazing. She’s based in Rhode Island now. Look for her work.

Holly Sears? Magical. Utterly.

Moi

Her work takes you to the places where Chagall left off. When you see her sculptures you’ll know what I mean. Go to the studio, Feet of Clay, in Brookline Village, Masschusetts and see for yourself.

And then there are my humble vessels. I use two of my own mugs regularly.

Naturally THIS is my fav of all mugs EVAR!

Across the Universe

View from the new crib's deck

At 8 AM the movers arrived.

Erin, Jen’s sister, and Erin’s fiancé PJ, are in the process of moving to the other end of the galaxy today.  OK, OK, it's just the other side of the Neck. 1.3 miles from us. May as well be Alpha Centauri. Hmmph.

Aside from the college years, Jen, 42, and Erin, 39. have lived together or right next door to one another, their entire lives.

The Amazing Bob, Oni and I joined forces with the McMurrer League, in East Cambridge, thirteen years ago. PJ came on the scene shortly after.

Together we found and fell madly in love with Valhalla. Two crews from Cheap Date Movers (now Olympia -- I TOTALLY prefer their previous incarnation) were hired. They raced to see which could finish first. Having only the junk of a two person household, our team won. Yea team!

That was on a cold, snowy, early December morning, nine years ago.

Maybe three or four years ago, one half of the duplex to the front of us opened up. Things were feeling a mite crowded in the ‘kids’ (this being how TAB and I have always referred to them) house so Erin and PJ shifted over. This gave them all breathing space plus the new digs had a spectacular view.

 Ultimately and unfortunately it proved not to be the most fab of fits -- they began a hunt for new crib-age. We were lucky. The new house is a lot closer than any of us figured on AND the views are even more astoundingly stunning than at the old yurt.

I suspect there’ll be more than a few BBQs happening on that gorgeous new deck this summer.

Here’s the other big separation anxiety causing bit -- Jen and I, after almost 20 years, are no longer rappelling down into the pixel mines together.

That ended with my recent exodus from Brighton.

Since July 17, 1993, apart from a capful of months, Jen and I have worked our respective ta tas off for the very same three companies.

When we lived in Cambridge and worked in the Back Bay, we'd slog through the snow over the never plowed Harvard/MIT Bridge on our three mile trek into work. From here on the Neck we'd take the Red Line into South Station, hoofing it the rest of the way. For the commute to Brighton we joined the grey faced sea of commuters on Route 93 North -- something I don't miss AT ALL.

Sometimes I was her manager, sometimes she was mine, sometimes we were just regular old worker bees allied in our mutual goals of learning interesting new shit, finding fresh ways to keep our customers satisfied. Satisfied. and laughing as much as our stomach muscles would permit.

We functioned like a spectacularly maintained Star Trekian team (honest and true AND there’s that ‘T’ word again). We assisted and advised each other, shared knowledge, talent and chocolate -- we supported one another with wise ass snarks, Zen-ish reality checks and burritos. Of course.

Dark chocolate and burritos. What else is there? Wine. OK, there is that.

'There is nothing permanent except change.'
Heraclitus

'The key to change... is to let go of fear.'
Roseanne Cash

'The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.'
Alan Watts

Across the Universe -- John Lennon

The War at Home

I don't have anything elegant or rage-filled-yet-effective to say about the horror in Newtown, Connecticut today. I just don't.

OK, this -- When I'm Queen of the Universe there's gonna be some BIG fat changes and, boyhowdy, there will be tremendously unhappy gun profiteers out there when I'm done.

mega sigh

 From ThinkProgress:

On Friday morning, 27 people were reportedly shot and killed at Sandy Hook elementary school in Newtown, CT. According to sources, 18 of these casualties were children. This is the second mass shooting in the US this week, after a gunman opened fire in an Oregon shopping mall on Tuesday, killing 2. ABC News reports that there have been 31 school shootings in the US since Columbine in 1999, when 13 people were killed.

The rate of people killed by guns in the US is 19.5 times higher than similar high-income countries in the world. In the last 30 years since 1982, America has mourned at least 61 mass murders. Below is a timeline of mass shootings in the US since the Columbine High massacre:
Timeline at the link.  

From Steve M. at No More Mister Nice Blog:

Guns are tools -- but much of the country doesn't see them that way. Much of the country sees a gun as both a religious object and a really awesome adult toy -- a combination Holy Grail and red Corvette. Read anything written by pro-gun types and you see this alternation between piety and toy-lust. To me, a gun is like a chainsaw or an acetylene torch. It's useful for certain things. It has a place in society if the owner handles it extremely carefully. Otherwise, it has the potential to be a menace to society.

I'm writing about the "respectable" gun culture, but there's also the badass (and badass-wannabe) gun culture. That consists of criminals and people who aren't criminals but romanticize violence and crime. But the "respectable" gun culture makes sure there's an overabundance of weaponry available to that culture.

And the "respectable" gun culture makes sure that plenty of weapons are available to anyone who's decided that his days of living a law-abiding life are coming to an end today, or tomorrow, or at some point in the near future. The mass shooters usually seem to fall into that category.

The entire column at the link. Go read -- it’s worth it.

From Charles Pierce’s post:

Resist, as strongly as you can, the people who seek to profit by isolating you in your homes, and in your anger, and in your wounded sense of aggrieved entitlement, and with all your guns.

We, The People. Those words are not an accident. They come before everything else in the document. Yes, even before the Second Amendment, they come, and there is a reason for that. When we commit ourselves to the American experiment — and our military does this formally, but we all do so when we accept the freedoms and benefits of that experiment — we commit ourselves first to We, The People, and the public institutions that are the manifestations of our political commonwealth in our daily lives.
Read the rest of it here.
And more here: Connecticut Shooting And We The People - The Horror Goes On - Esquire

Don't Bring Me Down

Morale is delicate thing. It can be irreparably damaged with just a few ill considered words. Maybe more harmful, a few well considered words NOT spoken.

I was reading this morale boosting advice/tips column on Inc. Magazine’s site. Here are a few of author Jacqueline M. Hames’ points that spoke to me loud and crystal -- I've added my own thoughts/ideas as well.

1. Encourage idea sharing, and make that sharing road a two-way street.
Listening to the ideas of your employees is great, but it can only go so far if the employee doesn't know enough about business operations to present a viable idea.

YES and THIS! How can employees learn more about the biz, about the company? Try clear, up to date training.

Someone who runs a Quickmaster press  all day may not need to grok all there is to know about the customer service department but they probably have some interesting, fresh thoughts and ideas.

Provide a basic overview of all departments to ALL employees. Have the seminars taught by an in house specialist whenever possible. If the expert isn’t an articulate or eloquent communicator, find a clear, cogent talker -- get that person trained up -- and have her/him teach the class.

Right there you’ve shown at least three employees (teacher, student, expert) that they are valued, trusted and worth the investment of time and knowledge. All that and you’ll end up with a more knowledgeable, highly committed team.

Now then, I really hate when the word 'team' is tossed around -- as though just saying the word, repeatedly, is all that’s needed to build one. It’s not. Ever. In fact, using that word promiscuously is a sure fire way to make yourself look like a clueless, out of touch task master who really should have showed up more to his/her Team Development & Leadership class in MBA school.

2. Make the workplace comfortable.
"Designing a comfortable environment is about more than aesthetics...You'll need more than just cushy chairs and ergonomic desks, for this.... Make small adjustments to your lighting scheme and bring in fun desk lamps if you can't banish the overhead fluorescent glare, or open curtains to allow for natural light if you have windows. Keep the office temperature at a comfortable level, and make sure all the technology needed to do the job is available."

I’ve nothing much to add to this beyond a big fat OH YEAH! Unhappy cogs are the result when the workplace is too cold, too hot, badly lit and/or your desk chair worked better as a conceptual art type statement at The Ritter/Zamet Gallery.

It’s not OK, nor conducive to focused productive labor, when you need to keep your coat on ALL day (and you work indoors!).

The AC craps out? Yep, that happens. In addition to getting it fixed fast, be sure to provide a lot of cold drinks and fresh water. Hydrated desk jockeys are happy desk jockeys.

Bad lighting? Bring in some nice desk lamps. We all have one or two extra kicking around at home with no place to call home.  You don't? Goo to Freesharing.org for dog’s sake!

And put some art up on the damned walls! There’s a budding Ansel Adams, Jack Kirby, or Manet in most workplaces -- invite them to hang a few pieces.

If you’re a press shop or design firm -- put up some of the splashier posters and other ad collateral. In doing this you learn more about your clients and more about fellow laborers.

OK, guess I did have a bunch to add to that.

3. Build a culture of employee appreciation.
Cash incentives and public recognition, while nice, don't always make your employees feel totally appreciated.

Keep it coming though!

Being told, on a regular basis, that what you do helps make the company more successful, getting kudos and credit for it, goes a long ass way toward buoying morale and building a committed happy productive team. If you’re even nominally in charge of a group of worker bees, take the time to see, to recognize what your individual crew members do and then salute them. A ‘Hey, thank you for 

getting back to Manvendra at Global Widgets so quickly and thoroughly. That helped and made us look great,’ will be remembered and that stellar behavior will be repeated.

Also too...CUPCAKES are always in good taste.

4. Have fun.
Spiegelman also encourages wacky team building exercises, which could range from weeks-long murder mysteries to an all day off-site activity, like laser tag.

I’m ALL for having a fun activity but rarely, RARELY will all employees enjoy the same ‘fun’ thing. Make that event function on different levels.

In one place I worked, the owner was all about afternoons at the lanes -- bowling. NOT something too many of us were keen on. Def not me. Still a bunch of us went. Why?

A) Eh, attending would make me look better, more of an involved team player type, to the bosses.
B) Why not TRY it instead of just ixnaying it out of hand (by the by, I couldn’t possibly suck more at the old tenpins).
C) It was a good opportunity to socialize AND network with folks I normally didn’t see or chat with.
D) The bowling alley had a bar. The bartender made exceptional martinis. I have my priorities, doncha know.

The take away, for me, on this last bit is that there should be fun both in and outside of the gig -- for both you and your worker bees.

And smile, dammit. Stay upbeat. Don’t let the Dogs of War drag you down. If you’re bumming, your crew will be too. This is one place that the trickle down theory actually works.

Bad moods, crankiness spread faster than Bubonic Plague. Don’t infect the team -- the antidote is near impossible to come by and way expensive.

E.L.O. -- Don't Bring Me Down