Season's Greetings, 2012

Yeah, it rains. But it's still fun. Hope your holidays are fun, too!

Recipe for Giving

Cookies. Ramen noodles. Cocoa mix. Soup packets. Maybe something warm to wear. From Mom. My mom. During our college years, she sent dozens of care packages to my siblings and me.

Most valued in each package were the home-baked cookies. My mother is an excellent baker. She doesn't bake much these days, but she passed on to her kids her love of baking and her recipes. Now, for holidays, special events, and yes, care packages, we make the cookies. We roll Butterfingers in sugar, thumb-print My Mother's Cookies (actual recipe name), and chop nearly-neon candied cherries for Cherry Chip Cookies.

My mother not only passed on the baking gene, but also the giving gene. Last Christmas, we started a Cookie of the Month club for my parents. Each month for a year, one of us bakes and sends them a batch of home-baked cookies. We just completed the first year, and we'll do the same for them through 2013. Happily, they seem to enjoy receiving these care packages as much as we did in our college years.

Office Corner

Somebody's Place

It's not so much the corner office I want. It's the one corner of an office where people collaborate. I want a place at the table, or on the sofa, in the space where creativity explodes.

Ideas dart out from the creative huddle like cartoon arrows. Most are waved away, dismissed as done befores, not quite its, or cool but impossible due to laws of physics and such.

Then somehow, someone hits upon The Idea. It might rise vaguely over the group in the first half hour of discussion. It might come after months of emails, research, and sketches. One of the group members might dream it. But there it is. Now the work begins. Sometimes we'll lead The Idea, and sometimes we'll follow it, to a destination we can only imagine at this point.

Thanksgiving, 2012

"Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others." --Cicero 

Yes.  

Happy Thanksgiving

Autumn Beauty, 2012

Just a few non-tree fall photos today. Hope you're enjoying the season!

 

 

Fall Leaves: The Inside Story

OK, night is taking over. We're dialing down the photosynthesis. Chlorophyll, that means you fade into the sunset, buddy. Take a break. Go be your green self in Palm Springs.

Of course, carotenoids, with chlorophyll fading out, you'll be center stage. Get ready for it. We want stunning yellows and golds and you're the only ones for this job. Shine like the summer sun!

Anthocyanins, get in there with your reds and purples. Should be a good year for you, with those extra sunny days. That sugar stuck in the leaves is all yours.

That's it for now. We'll tell you when to drop. Thanks.

Make Your Day

Aunt Martha's Pattern 3753, Detail

Unsure about what needs doing today? Consult Aunt Martha's embroidery patterns. They advise the stay-at-home person what to do each day of the week. Laundry Monday. Shopping Thursday. Housecleaning Friday. Simple. Organized. Done. Start Over.



Unrelated to these images (I think...), for a long time I cleaned my apartment or house every Thursday night and I cooked every Sunday. I loved this routine. I upped the volume and sometimes downed a little wine. Thursday cleaning meant the weekend was almost here and that my place was ready for it. Sunday cooking helped me learn how to cook and meant I'd eat well for the first few days of the work week. This routine also meant I didn't worry much about cleaning and cooking the rest of the time. I'd get to each at the times I'd set aside for them.
 

Now our days are often over scheduled and fragmented. We rarely get long stretches for personal tasks or hobbies. (Who even has a hobby?) Worse, those things we want to explore and develop--the things missing from our lives--get only stolen moments. We can't seem to shove other things out of the way to get to them.
 

So here's what I'm thinking. Assign those missing things a day of the week. Art Wednesday. Dream Business Thursday. See the World Friday. You get the idea. Even if you can't spend hours on the day's theme, let it simmer in the back of your mind. Maybe all you can manage on Art Wednesday is to google Marcel Duchamp, and on Dream Business Thursday is to toss around exciting possibilities while you cook dinner.

That's fine. At least you're inviting these new things into your life. Even if you can't give them any time the rest of the week.

***

I have no idea what the cowboy dog, below, is up to, but his life looks more exciting than the chicken's life.






Aunt Martha's Pattern 3981, Detail

Guessabout at One Year

Just over a year ago, I launched this blog, guessabout. It's been a pleasure to share thoughts on its theme, as stated in the first post:

"Guessabout is about making our best guesses given life's many unknowns and moving parts. It's also about how all the unknowns and moving parts make life dynamic, mysterious, scary, delightful and exciting."

Thank you so much for reading and for sharing your comments here and on Facebook. I deeply appreciate it.

Recent experience reminds me to, let's say, respect the mystery and variations of life. No one wants to hear some officious prig--standing at a lectern or sitting across a dinner table--spew some precise but narrow rant. I don't trust that attitude, even if I find it hard to argue details with such people. It's judgemental and very limited. Life is an unfolding mystery, and no matter how much we know for sure (and we should learn as much as possible), there's always more that remains elusive.

Nobody communicated this better than Carl Sagan, in his intro to the Cosmos series. Since this series aired, some of the science has progressed, and the video style and music are outdated. But for me, his core view of life rings as true now as it did then. It's worth a listen.

Envelope

"Life," said Virginia Woolf, "is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end."

 

 

Short Tasks and Predictable Outcomes

Last week I worked hard on one task, shelved that half-finished work, and shifted gears to work on a new task. I enjoy working my way through challenging, creative tasks, and it's gratifying when long-term, complex efforts successfully come together. But all that takes time.

By the end of the week I'd progressed, but finished nothing. I needed something quick, easy, and predictable to do so I could feel a sense of completion.

I found two tasks that fit the bill. Very predictable--positive outcomes virtually assured. They cleared my head and helped me prepare to tackle the more complex stuff again.

Here, I'll show you.

by Michele DeWilliam

The Same Letter, 18 Ways

Reminder: There's more than one way to look at things.

(Sources: "Fancy Alphabets," The Pepin Press, 2007; "ABZ: More Alphabets and Other Signs," Chronicle Books, 2003; fonts available with Adobe Photoshop)

Well Hello, Lesula

I wonder if mine is a common reaction or if I'm just a science and nature geek. I was awestruck yesterday when I heard about a newly identified monkey species. Our new primate friend, lesula, features some interesting bright blue coloring. The lesula shown in a popular news photo seems to have soulful eyes and a wise face. How empathetic and smart the model actually is, I have no idea.

I find hope in the discovery of new life forms, assuming our new friends don't pose serious and immediate danger, as, for example, certain viruses do. It's intriguing to see yet another survival adaptation, and I love the sense that we simply don't know everything there is to know about, well, anything. I like the idea that we will keep discovering and learning for a very long time.

So, welcome lesula. Nice to know you're out there. And a belated welcome to the other nine recently discovered mammals featured in this Guardian article.

Looking Up

One very fine day, when I was a kid, I was riding my bike home from a friend's house. I remember it well. Beautiful day. The Arizona sky was pure blue but for a few fluffy white clouds. They were the kind of clouds I loved to stare at. In them I might see horses, or a waterfall, or horses slowly transforming into a waterfall, or something else astonishing and magical.

And that's exactly what I was doing while riding my bike home that day. I was looking up. I imagined walking on the clouds. I saw little kitten clouds separate from a bigger cloud, as if the kittens were jumping out of a basket. I saw an arm reach out from a huge reclining body.

At least, that's what I was doing until I ran my bike into a mail box.

Yes, I was that kid.

But I want to defend that goofy kid for a moment. Except for the bike, she had it right. We might all benefit from spending a few minutes each day with our heads in the clouds, freely daydreaming. Looking skyward, we remember we're on this planet together, under the same canopy. Watching clouds, we try to make sense of something amorphous, and for a while we can, but then it changes and we have to try to make sense of it in a new way (psst...just like in real life). Looking up, we think about not only what we can see, but also about what lies beyond what we can see.

Cute on the Hanger

Thank you, every woman who writes negative comments about a garment she bought online. You help me avoid that deflating moment when I rip open a UPS envelope, try on the adorable sweater or wear-everywhere dress inside...and realize that, at least on me, the item is nothing like what I imagined.

Here are a few articulate and creative comments from disappointed online clothes shoppers:

in real life this was a dud

felt like it was made out of an old tire

poufs out in front...giving the appearance of a stomach where there is none!

bagged at the bust

much gaping in the armhole area

requires considerable bust to avoid gaping

ballooned at the knee

Cute on the hanger, but I am constantly trying to adjust the top to keep from "exposing" myself. Even double sided tape doesn't work. Simply hate it.

I hated the fit of the pockets, they popped out and looked like parenthesis ( and ).

might as well wear a long pillow case

very synthetic looking meltable fabric

might have worked if I gained weight and grew

better on someone with an apple-shaped body

may be perfect for the girl with no padding in her posterior

if I had a narrower waist and more of a behind, these pants might be really cute

these cords just make me sad

sad to see these go back in the mail

sad to have to return

sadly, I had to send this back

More Summer Indulgence

Fall must be right around the corner. I know this because I feel a bit guilty for posting the following Rum and Coke Slurpee recipe. It's pretty decadent, and fall gets judgy about summer's loose ways. My tinge of guilt tells me fall's coming. But, too bad, fall. You're not the boss of me. It's going to be in the 90s this week, so for now I'll continue to follow my adolescent summer bliss.

Start this recipe early, as the granita takes about three hours to freeze.

Rum and Coke Slurpee

Granita

For each serving, you need:

3/4 c. Coke (Mexican, real sugar variety preferred)
1 TBS. rum
juice of half a lime (or to taste)

Multiply the ingredients for the number of servings you want. Combine all together in a metal or glass pan that's big enough to hold the mixture so it is not more than two inches deep. Place in freezer. Every 45 minutes or so, stir the mixture with a fork. This breaks up the ice so it doesn't freeze as a solid mass, and it also help the mixture freeze evenly. The granita freezes in about three hours, depending on how much you make.

Meanwhile...

Round up and cool the other items you'll need:

Coke (enough for a liberal splash in each serving)
Rum (1 TBS per serving)
Glasses
Straws

Cool the Coke and rum in the refrigerator.
A few minutes before you want to serve the slurpees, place the glasses in the freezer.

Make the slurpees

Line up the glasses and place about 1/2 cup of granita in each. To each, add a tablespoon of rum and a liberal splash of Coke. Do not stir!* Divide the remaining granita between the glasses. Place a straw in each glass and enjoy!

* Part of the joy of drinking a slurpee is that you stir and jab at the slushy ice as you  go. This mixes the drink as necessary.

The Brains of Summer

Something strange and wonderful happens to our brains in summer. Our rules and routines float away on the breeze. We're nostalgic and lazy. Is it the vitamin D, or the sun in our eyes? Is it because we're too darn hot to think, or that we're wearing fewer clothes? I don't know. The brains of summer beat to a different drummer.

Exhibit A. Reading preferences turn fluffy. Friends stock their Kindles with mysteries, romances, travel stories, and People. When the heat's on, I prefer rock bios. They're trashy, revealing, romantic, nostalgic, and disgusting. Perfect.

Exhibit B. We consume weird stuff: crustacean legs, stuff on sticks, deep fried friends, and sweet drinks with tons of ice and a straw. Last weekend I made corn dog bites and rum and coke slurpees. Are the corn dogs made from produce available only in summer? I think not. Are the slurpees too sweet for me in any other season? I think so. But in summer, they're perfect.

Exhibit C. We summer-crush on music we don't typically listen to. Never mind the time I got caught singing Cher's "If I Could Turn Back Time" in the New Mexican heat. That was an aberration even by summer standards, not a crush. My current summer crush is on a band I thought I left back in the '70s next to a pair of Famolares: Electric Light Orchestra (listen and love here). This fling might go on well into the fall, or even develop into a serious relationship. It feels real in the moment.


If I could focus and think right now, I'd figure out how to bottle this mood so I could access it in November. But I can't, so excuse me while I find an icy drink and a bad book.

***

Here's the corn dog recipe. Follow it as is, except cut bite sized pieces, batter and fry them, then skewer them on a short stick. I'll post the slurpee recipe next time.

Hello, 4 a.m.

Well hello, 4 a.m. You're magic when I want to see you, and so unwelcome when I need sleep.

Last night I went to bed early and exhausted, as a full moon rose over a neighbor's house, so this time 4 a.m. feels luxurious and cool. I'm rested and marginally awake. Or, I'm fully awake, but in an altered state.

Whether 4 a.m. appears at the close of a late night out or at the early opening of a new day, it glows with stars and planets, the moon and street lights. Edges blur. Dogs sleep and cars won't lift off from their parking spaces for hours. Boundaries and practicalities aren't yet in place, so anything is possible. Dreams, from moments ago, feel as real as anything real, and wildest hopes seem not at all wild, but likely.

Can Can

We invest meaning in all kinds of things. For me, a bottle of drug store cologne represents a constant connection with my mother. The story is this. When I was maybe eight, I bought this bottle of Can Can cologne for my mother's birthday. She probably gave me the money to buy it, as my father was often working out of town. She probably waited in the car while my siblings and I ran into the store and bought our gifts for her. This was the way it worked sometimes.

Anyway, for some reason (I should ask her one of these days) she kept this bottle, first on her dresser, then on a decorative shelf in the bathroom. I often commented on it: "Hey, you still have the Can Can!" Maybe that's why she kept it.

A few years ago, she gave it to me and I now keep it on my dresser. It smells like I'm not sure what. Roses, cardamom, paper, and alcohol? It doesn't really matter. To me, the smell and the unusual coral-colored liquid simply evoke memory. It smells like the house we lived in when I bought it. It smells like childhood, suntan lotion, and records. I love that it represents a strong, loving, and somewhat humorous link between my mother and me. I'm going to wear a dab on my wrist today.

I Have No Idea What You're Thinking

Crocosmia Lucifer, July 2012

My second blog post is the one most frequently mentioned to me by readers. Crocosmia Lucifer, the star of that post, is in bloom, so here's another look at that story. My yard is still undone, but I'm less likely these days to assume I know what others are thinking.

http://guessabout.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-think-i-know-what-youre-thinking.html

Replanting Yourself

Repotted Plants in Vintage Containers. Background: Photo by Star Rush, Calendar by Margaret DeWilliam Horton.

Repotting house plants recently, I found it impossible not to think in metaphor. Liberating those living--but not thriving--things from their parched, squashed confines, it struck me that once in a while we all need to replant ourselves. We need to tip over those cramped containers we call "comfort zones," loosen and untangle long-held assumptions, and give ourselves room to grow. Periodically replanting ourselves is essential to branching out and thriving.

Why not take a little time, say on the first day of each month, to replant yourself? Evaluate old habits. Renew your commitment to what's important to you. Toss out what's not working anymore. Deadhead useless and destructive thoughts. Encourage new growth in new directions.

Happy 4th!

Tip o' the Hat to the Brown Derby

Guessabout is all about where imagination and "real" life meet, and one place they frequently shake hands is in a cocktail glass.

One dark and stormy weekend, when a Dark and Stormy just wouldn't do, I discovered this earthy cocktail: Esquire Brown Derby. Created in the 1930s, it somehow slid under the bar and got stuck there for several decades. Thankfully, Esquire revived it.

Esquire cocktail columnist David Wondrich calls this New England's answer to the daquiri. He considers it a winter cocktail, but I find it incredibly refreshing in any weather. It's not nearly as sweet as the ingredients suggest. In fact, I don't like sweet drinks and I use more maple syrup than the recipe does. Specifically, I make this drink with the following ingredients, shaken hard with ice:

2 oz. Goslings's Black Seal black rum
1 oz. fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon maple syrup (or to taste)

The name, Brown Derby, is confusing because there's another Brown Derby cocktail (from the famed restaurant chain). To solve this problem, some friends and I doffed that moniker and slapped on one of our own. Ours takes too long to explain, so I suggest that when you're about half way through this handsome cocktail, you rename it yourself. I'd love to know what your decide.

Friend of Friends

The Space Needle is like that friend of friends who is always in the background of group photos. We've known of each other for years, but just in passing. We hear the same gossip. And when I take pictures, there's that friend of friends: in sunlight or clouds, in the day or after dark, sometimes dressed up for a holiday. We've been witness to each other, and to this city, for a long time. For now, anyway, seeing the Space Needle signals that I'm where I belong.

Relic

A fur stole. Fur decadence, spit on now, I suppose, if worn in public. I've never worn one. Still, it's a vivid relic of Then, out of storage, tagged, hanging above me.

A man. You, of course.

A song. "Venus in Furs." Heh. No. Not that one. Something the same vintage as the stole. "Violets for Your Furs." Frank's version. That's it.

A woman. Me, of course.

This is what I remember: We lived in a warm place; there was no need for a fur stole there. But you bought me violets because I loved that song! Thank you. I've never forgotten. I slip into that memory sometimes. I sleep on it.

A mystery, this memory. Is it accurate? Have I changed it--smoothed it--by taking it off the shelf and polishing it a few too many times? Honestly, I'll probably never know the answer to that.

No Fear

Recently, I asked friends what they do to force themselves beyond their comfort zones. How do they quiet the fear that stops them from doing things they truly need or deeply want to do?

One friend, Jess Rice, said that for about one year, he had the words NO FEAR posted at his workstation. Jess, who is among other things a talented artist (see his work at jessrice.com), strikes me as someone who is fearless, someone who just does what is authentic for him. Apparently, while that's largely true, even he sometimes has to dig deep
to find courage! That was helpful to know.

I immediately wrote the words NO FEAR on my office blackboard. I relax a little when I see it. Chalk on a blackboard is accessible and friendly. It reminds me of childhood, when we weren't expected to know everything; we were expected to learn. That's what I need to remember: to expect myself to learn as I move toward unknown, uncomfortable things. It's crazy to think I should know how to master situations I've never confronted before. But if I trust that I'll learn what I need to know about new situations, the things I fear--rejection, failure, getting trapped--lose their power.

The evening after I wrote those words, I sat down at my computer to watch a movie. I noticed, during a dark and scary scene, that I could see NO FEAR reflected on the computer screen. Actually, what I saw was RAEF ON. I thought about reversing the words on the blackboard so the reflection on the screen correctly showed NO FEAR. I decided against it. I like the backwards version. It feels like a powerful and fun secret.

Unarmed and Harmless

Garden Graduation

It's early. My eyes are open but my dreams cling. In the garden, nascent poppies push toward full bloom. I don't know what happened in the night. Pods cracked open and in the dark, each poppy's true color emerged (although no one could yet see it). This morning, with their protective pods still clinging, they are comical, sweet, pleated, and fragile. They look approachable, but let you know they need nothing from you now. The poppies, at this early hour, are not yet bold and fully open, but they will be when I next see them.

Collaboration

Recently, I collaborated with photographer and friend Star Rush on three pieces for the French blog, Une Plume, un Regard. The blog publishers planned to use only one of the image-with-text pieces, but then chose to publish all three! You can view them here:

http://www.uneplume-unregard.fr/en/sirens
http://www.uneplume-unregard.fr/en/canister
http://www.uneplume-unregard.fr/en/balancing

Productive collaboration results in something greater that what each team member produces alone. The creative interaction is a chemistry, a force, and it makes something totally new.

Choreographer Twyla Tharp's book, The Collaborative Habit: Life Lessons for Working Together, is a field guide to the collaborative process. It's full of practical ideas for both businesses and artists, and it's fun to read about her collaborations with Elvis Costello, Milos Forman, the Pacific Northwest Ballet, and many others. It's a quick read and a wonderful reminder to join together and make good!

Online Boosts for Your Creative Side

When my artistic efforts need a jolt, I turn to the sites listed here. They offer both inspiration and practical help for artists of all levels. Visit them to wake up your creative side; they'll get you going, even if you're not only stuck, but also broke.

Art House Co-op engages visual artists of all levels in "global, collaborative art projects." Their flagship offering is the Sketchbook Project, in which participants receive a small, 32-page booklet and fill it will drawings, writing, foldouts, clippings, maps, or whatever else they please. Finished books live at the Sketchbook Library in Brooklyn, and Art House Co-Op also takes them on the road. You can view some of the sketchbooks online; their variety is sure to prompt ideas for your own sketchbook and for other work.

Art House Co-op organizes other projects, too. For the Jar Project, participants fill small jars (some rules apply), which become part of a sculpture at Art House Co-op's gallery space in Brooklyn. For Note Swap, participants hand-write notes or letters. Each is sent to another participant. Some projects are free, others require a small fee.

Artist Trust is a non-profit organization that supports Washington state artists in all disciplines. It's a robust resource for everything from open calls for shows and competitions to legal, health care, and housing issues. It's great if you're looking for a place to perform or show work, but also if you're looking for practical business-of-art information.

Creative Live is an online classroom that teaches photography, video, web design, graphic design, app development and more. And here's the wonderful part: You can watch classes, real time, for free! Just sign up. After classes end, you can buy downloads of them for reference.

The Beauty of Letting Go

Magic Carpet

In transition.

Petals fall away; they release themselves from their supposed right place and dart like fledglings in spring wind storms. Their courage to let go makes way for new growth. Making way: an honorable practice if ever there was one. For a brief moment, these loose little forms cover the ground. Familiar gray streets glow pink. It's both seductive and disorienting. Dream like. It's the path to what's next.

Transformation

Open Windows



Ceremony

Lady Norelco Nap Attack and Friends



Lady Norelco Nap Attack

One quick stop. Just one. On my way here or there, I often pull into the parking lot of the nearest thrift store. I'm careful; I usually know what I'm looking for and stick mostly to whatever that is, with an eye out for unexpected treasures. But those stops aren't only about what I buy. (Often, I leave empty handed.) They're also about what I see and imagine. I've spent hours wondering who previously owned particular things, and under what circumstances they parted with them. I wonder, too, about the people who work at the store. How did they end up there? Are they doing OK? What do they think when they see frequent thrift shoppers like me? Somehow Williams-Sonoma, H&M, and Starbucks don't bring up these questions. Except for money, they require less of me.



Man Chair in Red with Cup Holder or Ashtray Holder

Petite Model P-1

Top Shelf