Yeah, London, England

That’s my destination, with a one-day side trip to France, during which time my English friend has admonished me: I’m to let him do all the talking, and forget wearing my cowboy boots or my I heart W tee shirt. Joke, joke, my feet are too wide for pointy-toed boots and my tee shirts are all from Gap.

I leave in two weeks. I’m not taking my laptop; I’ll try to update my blog once or twice while I’m there, and will bring back lots of pics for blogging when I get home :-)

I’m practically beside myself with excitement, so much so that even the threatened series of strikes by British Airways cabin crews has done nothing to dampen my spirits. And n0w I see today there’s been a breakthrough, the first planned strike has been averted. Hooray!

Before I die . . .

Via AOL’s new & improved front page interface, I found this story today: four guys building a documentary around the concept of “what’s the one thing you want to do before you die.”

They’ve invited people to contribute to a list of 100 things. Then they help the contributors accomplish their respective goals. Film it, etc. etc.

One thing that strikes me is how mundane a lot of the items are. “Plant a tree”? “Take a kid on a toy shopping spree”? Who needs help doing stuff like that? For dog’s sake, people, if “throw a surprise party” or “donate blood” is all that stands between you and a sense of lifelong accomplishment, what are you waiting for?

There are a few items that are a bit meatier, of course. But even some of them are more a question of a little research & planning. “Drive a race car,” for instance. Assuming you’re sound of body, there are car racing training outfits that will deliver you to that dream.

Last category are the “dreams” that require a mix of pluck, work, and an alignment of stars. “Go to space.” “Start a television show.”

Those are the minority. IMHO those are the only sorts of dream that really matter. But I suppose it’s because those are the sorts of ideas that really get me juiced.

So. What’s your dream? What’s the thing that, looking back from your deathbed, you’ll count as the thing that made the difference between a life-well-lived and one not?

And what are you doing about it?

This is not a “fortune”

Has anyone else noticed that Chinese fortune cookies have become a huge disappointment over the past few years?

They never have actual fortunes in them any more.

I got this one last night:

Education is not filling a bucket but lighting a fire.

That’s not a fortune. That’s an aphorism.

What’s going on? Have the Chinese fortune cookie companies been advised by their attorneys to get out of the fortune-telling business? “We have to switch to aphorisms and ‘learn Chinese.’ Otherwise, someone will get squashed by a falling piano and we’ll be sued because his cookie said he was going to win the lottery instead of ‘avoid walking past open fourth story windows.'”

Or maybe they have been pressured by the astrology columnist lobby? “Get off our turf, Chinese fortune cookie company!”

Another possibility: fortunes are too difficult to write. Burn-out sets in. Everyone’s just a hack these days, durnit.

Or maybe it’s easier to avoid printing gaffes like the ones published here if you stick to sayings instead of fortunes . . .

What I did last weekend

I’m planning a trip in February, and since I’m having a house sitter stay at my place to watch my critters while I’m gone, I decided it was time to fix up the guest bedroom.

Here’s what it looked like on Friday. I’d already pulled down the most recent layer of wallpaper — you can see one piece yet, above the window on the right. The stripes.

room before

Here”s the room now.

room after

The photo doesn’t do the ceiling justice. The color I chose for it is Benjamin Moore Seahorse 2028-70, a very pale green with a hint of yellow. For some reason the photo makes it look muddy; in person it’s very fresh & light. (The swatch on the website doesn’t look anything like the color either, at least on my monitor.)

The walls are Ocean Air 2123-50, the window trim and baseboards are done with Ice Mist 2123-70, and the molding at the ceiling is Sea Star 2123-30. They’re all in the same family — swatches here.

I picked the ceiling color because I wanted something warm to offset the cooler colors I chose for the walls and trim. Now that it’s up, I love the effect — I’m crazy about it, as a matter of fact. Particularly against that dark trim — I’m crazy about it.

Next: the floors, which I’m outsourcing ;-)

Then accessories. As I was drifting off to sleep last night I suddenly pictured drapes in a broad, vertical black and white stripe. Hmmmm . . . may be going to much toward Deco tho, we’ll see . . .

For beds, I have a twin set of antique Art Nouveau frames with carved swan heads. I’m a little nervous on them — need to pull them into the color scheme somehow — they’re finished in a cream — and unfortunately when I reupholstered the headboards years ago I picked a dark pink fabric — didn’t like it much at the time, really don’t like it now. It has to go.

Once I have that, the bedding, the drapes, and a rug sorted out, though, I’ll post another pic.

Infrastructure! Yeah, baby!

I started Christmas shopping last week. Within a day the UPS truck was finding my door. Then, this afternoon the floodgates opened: a pile of boxes on my doorstep.

boxes

What could be more fun?

I also noticed that instead of just a driver on the truck, there was a second fellow whose job it was to distribute the packages. Kind of like Santa navigates and his right hand man negotiates the chimney.

That’s the first time I’ve ever seen UPS do it that way.

Is it a coincidence that deliveries of my Internet orders seem to be happening faster this year than last? Do you suppose UPS has tweaked its processes so it can better meet holidaytime demand? Do you suppose online retailers are doing the same? Do you suppose the Internet shopping infrastructure is blossoming into a thing of glorious & unprecedented consumerist beauty?

Dunno, but I can tell you I LOVE shopping online. I’ll go out and shop in person for a few things this year. But Internet shopping is heavenly. You can compare prices with the click of a mouse, find neat things without having to schlep around the space time continuum AND you get lots of visits from shipping carriers. What could be more fun?

This is going to be the best Christmas EVER.

:-)

On the first day of Christmas . . .

An office discount supplier sent to me . . .

Twelve pencil sharpeners sharpening????

pencil sharpeners

I ordered one. Paid for one. Some warehouse picker sent a case instead. So now I have these eleven extra electric pencil sharpeners.

I emailed the company and they don’t want them back:

Thank you for letting us know. However, since it was our error and you were not billed anything extra, you may keep the additional pencil sharpeners you received.

Anybody need a pencil sharpener????

Meanwhile my cat inspected the situation and decided she was singularly unimpressed:

unimpressed cat

We’re all the same . . .

some will a strut and some will fret
see this an hour on this stage
others will not but they’ll sweat
in their hopelessness in their rage
we’re all the same
the men of anger
and the women of the page

they published your diary
and that’s how i got to know you
key to the room of your own and a mind without end
and here’s a young girl
on a kind of a telephone line through time
the voice at the other end comes like a long lost friend

so i know i’m alright
my life will come my life will go
still i feel it’s alright
i just got a letter to my soul
when my whole life is on the tip of my tongue
empty pages for the no longer young
the apathy of time laughs in my face
you say
each life has its place

From Virginia Woolf, by the Indigo Girls (Rites of Passage album).

This version of the lyrics is from the rites of passage CD liner notes, only with line breaks.

the place where you hold me
is dark in a pocket of truth
the moon has swallowed the sun and the light of the earth
and so it was for you
when the river eclipsed your life
but sent your soul like a message in a bottle to me
and it was my rebirth

so we know we’re alright
life will come and life will go
still we know it’s alright
someone’ll get a message to your soul

The song stunned me when I first heard it because it so perfectly captured how I felt when I discovered Woolf’s diaries. (Her novels otoh — I should probably reread them now. I read them in college because one was supposed to, and didn’t really warm to them. Perhaps I was too young.)

I wonder if she came to realize, at the end, that her gifts could not substitute for a belief in deservedness . . . nor earn it.

what makes an ideal mate

A wise friend and I were talking one evening about relationships.

What makes an ideal mate?

We’re so used to answering that question in terms of shared interests (we can both tap dance on a balance beam! blindfolded! we both collect vintage French motor scooters!) or “qualities” that we fail to realize our lists are little better than tea leaves clotted at the bottom of a cup. Lessee, I’ll take his sense of humor up dry with a twist, and his politics neat, and 85 percent of American woman think a smile is the sexiest part of male anatomy, or was that 58 percent of American women smile at the sexiest part of male anatomy, and how tall is too tall? and take care to blunt your IQ until the second date, and be well-groomed but for gawd’s sake! don’t hide the smell of your sweat.

Labyrinthine, no wonder we’re confused.

So here’s what my friend said: the most important thing is that your mate have the capacity to hold in his/her mind/imagination all of what you are — of what you believe yourself to be.

This strikes me as one of the most profoundest statements about what we need in relationships that I’ve ever heard.

What is more important, if you’re planning to become intimate with someone, than to know that being in that person’s presence won’t render you somehow shrunk or truncated?

This is your life we’re talking about, remember — this is a person you’ve invited into your life, who for better or worse is going to influence the trajectory your life takes, whether you hit your target or fall short, whether you one day look back and know you gave it your best or die with the taste of regret coating your tongue.

So what’s it take for a person to really know you?

It’s partly a function of intellect — of choosing a mate who has the intellect to follow where your intellect takes you (and vice versa of course — all of this assumes it’s reciprocated).

But it also encompasses other aspects of Self as well: one’s spiritual nature, kinesthetic sense, capacity to appreciate esthetics, to name a few off the top of my head.

Or think of it this way: the romantic ideal is that some person will value you above all other potential mates. How can this happen if the other person is unable to fully imagine you as you imagine yourself to be?

It can’t. Entangle yourself with someone who is incapable of knowing you and you risk being under valued, because some aspect or aspects of you simply won’t exist to that person — perhaps he’ll sense them, but he won’t be able to appreciate them; perhaps she’ll have a fuzzy, unfocused idea that they’re there, but chances are she’ll feel uncomfortable and out of her depth around them.

It’s like offering a glass of most excellent Bordeaux to someone who can’t discern flavors more subtle than MSG-laced cottonseed oil. You might tell him “this wine retails for $350” or read off Robert Parker’s description or pass along the high praise of all your friends or even train him to appear that he understands what he’s doing, to swirl his glass and gargle the stuff through his sinuses. In the key of A. But in the end it will still be indistinguishable, as far as he’s concerned, from Chain Restaurant Merlot, the bottle that was opened three nights ago.

So why should he shell out the big bucks to drink it?

Answer: he won’t, unless he does so for the wrong reasons, and that will likely get old for him before long. And then he’ll dump out the rest of the case because he needs the bottles for, who knows. Storing his cigarette butt collection.

Now flip this around as a positive. There’s the old saw that behind every successful man there’s a woman (and the not-quite-so-old “Behind every successful man is a woman, behind her is his wife.” Groucho Marx. ha ha ha ha) — the language is dated of course — this needs to be reciprocal as well — but at its heart there’s a truth: when the success you envision is also envisioned by someone who loves you, it has a steadying effect that can help you realize that success. It’s not just any woman standing behind that successful man; she’s a woman who believes he will be successful even when the rest of the world has no frickin idea.

And “success” is of course you realizing in literal terms what you are.

Love idealizes, of course it does, and there’s risk in idealizing. Speaking from experience here. So yeah, that image we hold, it can’t be fantasy. But if we can avoid that pitfall, it seems to me the image, and a lover’s capacity to experience that image fully and truly, it is the most important thing. The most important thing.

It’s your lover’s capacity to love you as fully and perfectly and specifically as we on this Earth are ever able to love.