Things I’ve Noticed

  • I find it not only easier to tolerate but almost enjoyable when intelligent people bash the “tyranny of virus villainy” (Jessie) but just plain annoying when stupid people shout “conspiracy” and cite neither provable nor unprovable emotional reasons that haven’t been reasoned at all. To wit: hospitals are actually empty, only one person with Covid-19 at the such-and-such hospital, all deaths are being counted as virus caused, masks cause people to have breathing problems, and on and on.
  • I have reached the age wherein changing a heel-height for a day can and will cause serious leg cramps during the night.
  • Changing a hair-do can cause me to adopt a different walk. So can heel heights.
  • There are certain expectations that are dropped in blog writing. Allowances are made, though not for misuses such as “their” for “they’re,” apostrophes when it’s a plural word or instead of “its” as a possessive. I notice this because I’ve been reading an old Jenny Diski blog. (Speaking about her content, not grammar usage.) She’s better there than in her book In Gratitude, where she tumbles into sophomoric or self-pitying. I know, I know, she did have cancer. That doesn’t explain the attacks on Doris Lessing where Doris may well have been in the right, depending on the slant of words.
  • Blogs also fall into different categories: the totally insipid, the average but ho-hum (this can also be the young self-centered darlings that all the other young darlings love) and the worthwhile. (Those on the borderline go into the lower category.)
  • Excel spreadsheets are for those of us who get tired of figuring out the same old dates we’ve figured out a hundred times before.
  • Hyperbole is the gift given—to those of us who write—as a legitimate poetic device.
  • So is sarcasm, as verbal irony.
  • Blogs may be like playing chess—you want to look at those that are better than yours so that you can improve. It’s no credit to beat an opponent who is not as good as you.
  • We all need to have those conversations with our parents or children that answer the questions we or they want to know. Now. Before they’re gone. We have to pretend we’re writing a family history or start one now. Ask.
  • Masks are now mandatory in Ohio starting tomorrow night. I wonder how long before we get to watch crazies who don’t know about the 10th amendment shout about their rights being infringed upon. OK, not funny just tragic with collateral damage.
  • Another thing about blogs—no serious editing required as when practicing your craft for publication. Some though, some. All blog writers must remember they have a certain obligation to the reader. Some standards.
  • There are grammar and spelling apps., some built-in. I know this as I’m a terrible speller.
  • An Excel spreadsheet is not going to get you all the answers to questions you wish you’d asked when people were alive. Yes, ask.

And so, for today, that’s the waaayyyy things are.

 

What Are Things About?

Or, What Things Are About, Or, The Identity Of Things, Or…or…or….

themet-musicalinstruments

The Met: Musical Instruments

Sea Dragon

The Crosby Brown Collection of Musical Instruments, 1889
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/501492

This image by the Met Museum Art Collection quite attracted me. I’ve seen many marvelous and antic instruments, but this one really struck me as something more unique in its definition of form. Clearly a dragon. In fact, if you look closely at the inside of the dragon’s mouth, isn’t that a fish hook? Is that meant for us, should we dare poke a finger inside?

Is it also that clearly a musical instrument? I don’t think so. It’s there, the tube and the mouth piece, and the thumb place (the gold pad under his neck) so we know it belongs to the horn and flute family. Or does it? There are no holes from which the notes can flow, the air pulsing out from the Dragon’s spine. But maybe they are on the other side, just not visible from this angle of the photo.

In the interest of scientific research, I asked the neighbor’s visiting child—who is eight years old—what the thing was. (Age might matter in this experiment, as does music knowledge, which he has, playing in a school orchestra.)  He studied it quite seriously in a zoomed large photo of a photo. “Well,” he said, “It is a dragon for sure.” “Anything else,” I asked. “Well,” he said again, “You can see he’s still alive, even though he’s been stabbed.” “Stabbed?” I asked astounded. “Yes. See this?” He pointed to the tube extending curved, from the Dragon’s neck. “They tried to kill him with this but his hide was so thick and tough they couldn’t make it all the way through. That’s how they bent it.” He nodded, more to himself than to me. He seemed satisfied with his assessment. He didn’t even ask me if that was correct. (Kids rarely do.)

“And how do you know he is still alive?” “Well, he doesn’t have his head on the ground and he looks like he’s growling. He’s going to start shooting flames any minute.”

“How do you know he’s going to shoot flames?” “Well, see this?” He points to my fish hook. “That’s what his flames come from. When that goes all down, boy watch out! There’ll be flames for sure!”

Well, there you have it.

 

 

Day’s End

Bad day on Tuesday—car, car, car. Big car, big expenses. It’s the “oh shite” factor we live with when we have things. I would so love to live in a neighborhood where I could walk to any store to get anything I need. *Sigh*

So I’ll wait for the Splendor to return. Which surely it will. And the best part, the “kids” don’t care one bit. We’ll just all snuggle together. Good night Moon.

naturesBeauty

Nature’s Beauty Photo Credit