. Spinning .

While I’ve been weaning myself off of Facebook and twitter to concentrate more on keeping up on the weblogs, I’ve also gotten myself busy keeping up on the sidelines with the 100 Days Project.

There are some thirty or so folks involved in the project this year, artists, photographers, writers, cinematographers, poets, cooks, coders, and more all of whom are dedicating some part of each day to producing a work inspired by John Timmons’ film clips or something sparked by another artist’s interpretation of the piece.

I’m finding the early morning kick of viewing the short bits of film, the freedom to interpret, and the discipline of a deadline to be an excellent incentive to keep the imagination active and the words spilling out into mainly flash fiction–all flash fiction so far but I’m open to poetry, short story, or hypertext should that be the best path for the story.  What’s been fun to do is either find an image from my personal file or take a photo to fit the story. Maybe because of last year’s hypertext stories that I produced in the summer project it just seems strange to be done with each before night-time. That’s probably what drove the addition of images.

Some of these stories may be submitted, most I intend to hold onto and do some thinkin’ on. Not all have excited me, but there are a few that I particularly like as a more polished form of the narrative. For right now, and to prove that I’m still here and busy, they’re available here: 100 Days – 100 Stories.

In reading around the web this morning, particularly political topics but more personal and opinionated ones as well, I came across a tweet from New Scientist that offers a visual that illuminates the power of perspective on our beliefs as well as our reasoning.

In writing, it gives us the opportunity to show story from different points of view (as in Faulkner’s). In life, it should show us why and how someone sees something so differently than we do. It should breed tolerance and understanding, if not agreement.

Along with an easy answer of why and how what we think we see is not always truth: “Impossible Motion“

Last week I made clam chowder and going back to the grocery store this week I couldn’t resist the urge to pick up more cherrystones. Jim wanted a Fra Diavlo sauce but these clams were so good that I really wanted to enjoy the full flavor of the clams with a touch of garlic and lemon. A nice salad to top it off and I had an easy, delicious meal. The picture was taken before baking so they may not look as good. I was afraid we’d start eating before I remembered to take one!

Lisa’s comment on Facebook this morning catches me cold:

Instantaneous access to information appears to be eroding our ability to thoughtfully reflect.

And it makes me stop and think. And try to form an opinion by experience. When I read, for example, I avoid going online (unless absolutely necessary, like with your first Faulkner) to seek help in understanding a book. Obviously I wouldn’t be running to the library to do this in pre-internet days but that’s not why I’m avoiding assistance; I want to be untainted by other interpretations and to see it based on my own experience of life, other readings, etc. But the thing is, is that I could indeed find anything I needed within minutes and get a whole slew of opinions and insight and angles that would help form my own take on things.

Steve points out another potential problem of technology referred to in an article by Kevin Kelly as they explore the nature of the beast and weigh the arguments against with some unfounded probabilities and very viable benefits. As Steve notes, there is a dearth of agreed-upon definition in trying to assess its impact. And the scale is tipped often merely by preference or what is given up in acceptance of replacement. Would you rather drive a Ferrarri or get there by horseback? On the other hand, your Ferrarri, no matter how shiny and red, doesn’t nuzzle you looking for sugar or run with mane flying across open fields.

On Talking Philosophy, an excellent example of working logically through a problem by seeing all the angles, in this case, on airline seating for the obese passenger that is currently under consideration.

*Sorry for the ‘retrotalk’, this is a phrase from a Judy Collins’ song, Clouds.

Ronni Bennett has an excellent post up at Time Goes By referencing Ralph Keyes, writing in Editor & Publisher, wherein he advises writers against retrotalk, that is, phrases and idioms that many young people or immigrants may not be familiar with.

It’s just another example of lowering standards to meet the masses (and make them feel good about themselves–that “everybody is a star” philosophy that I think is so asinine) rather than raising the level of literacy and encouraging the masses to rise to meet it. I can hear the teachers screaming now, but come on, this has been a slowly degenerating process of learning for several decades now and I am in awe that no one understands the problem well enough to see the solution. As Ronni points out, if anything, these days there are faster, easier, more immediate ways of learning than ever before via the internet.

Frankly, I think that everyone would be better off–teachers, parents, and most importantly, the kids themselves–if more rather than less were expected of them. This, from a Washington Post article in which Susan Jacoby is quoted, should worry us:

“That leads us to the third and final factor behind the new American dumbness: not lack of knowledge per se but arrogance about that lack of knowledge. . .it’s the alarming number of Americans who have smugly concluded that they do not need to know such things in the first place. Call this anti-rationalism — a syndrome that is particularly dangerous to our public institutions and discourse.”

It seems to me, that older generations, with their minds stuffed to overflowing on decades of words can still quickly pick up on all the new terminology that comes from each new concept and trend, then the younger ones can bother to go look up what they don’t immediately ‘get.’ Maybe something good will come of the knowledge.

I love it on a Sunday morning as I cut my husband’s hair and think of ages past and scissors held by the different hands through time. Mother as a barber and a stylist both; up to date on Sassoons and Wedge; thick and thin hair, coarse and baby fine, adding sons-in-law and sisters to the clientele. Eventually the need to take over just as Alzheimers had taken over all the rest of her. She taught me well, and father, mother, husband, sisters, in-laws, friends, and neighbors, sat beneath my flashing blades. So important that the finest German pair of scissors costing hundreds was an acceptable gift beneath a Christmas tree. And my own hair I can cut.

I remember the first time that I cut my own, after practicing on all my dolls. Mother so angry with the inch-long bangs I thought were great she woke my father from his morning sleep after a hard night’s shift as factory foreman. Towards the end she let me cut her hair but never did I get it shaped as well as she used to do herself. And sometimes I still let her cut mine, thinking maybe it was something that would jog a memory. Or maybe I just needed to hold on too.

So today I cut my husband’s hair, and as I shook the cover out into the wind and watched the hair catch in the shrubs, I thought of nests it would line to softly warm another family growing strong to fly away.

Uh-oh. It seems that my sharpened eye has leaked into my ear and I find myself finding the flaws with tv shows and commercials.

Just saw the Hallmark talking card ad: a woman, surrounded by her family at a dinner table, opens a birthday card from her sister and is surprised by an audio clip in her sister’s voice saying something like, “You’re the best sister, wish I could be there…” and one of the men at the table says, “I was just going to say that.”  Duh?

Another ad by some new clothing store that starts with a K was a visual transcript of an audio 911 call wherein a woman complains that she’s being robbed because she gave them money and all she got was clothes. Uh, didn’t anyone from the company listen to this before it went on air? What does this really say about the quality or price of the clothes?  They don’t air this ad any more, but the new one’s not much better.

Am I just getting crankier with age or are writers getting sloppier?

While I’ve never really thought along the same lines as anyone else I knew or anything I’d read, it wasn’t just a spirit of rebellion or a  stubborn streak I don’t think. I’d like to say it’s just a different angle. For example, I don’t really believe this whole “housing bubble” term.

It’s true that real estate sort of simmered and then suddenly boiled over like spaghetti sauce just when you think you’ve turned the flame down to a point where you can walk away, but I don’t believe that prices exploded out of sync with the rest of commodities. Forty years ago (approximately), my sister and her husband bought a house for $40,000 and just before this crisis it was valued at $400,000. That’s in keeping with the price of a ’69 VW Beetle which was $1,800 (I went for the convertible which was $2,500) and the new one is $18,920.  A sandwich roll was $.05, now I’m paying $.59. A quart of milk was $.25. Chicken was $.19/lb and hamburger $.29. I used jumbo shrimp (now called ‘super colossal’ at 6-8 per pound) for my stuffed shrimp at $1.69/lb. vs. current  price of $17.99/lb.

Do you notice a trend here? Prices on all items have all gone up approximately 10 times. So how is the cost of real estate any more ridiculous than the cost of anything else?

Well there lies the problem. My first job in an office as a order clerk typist paid $60/week. That’s $1.50 per hour and minimum wage was $1.25.  Minimum wage will be raised to $7.25 in July of this year, but that’s a far cry from a 10-times rate of $12.50. Even with this obvious lack of cost of living increase in salary to keep up, many workers are indeed beyond that barrier to be bringing in salaries of  $25,000 to $65,000 that are well in keeping with the times, coupled with the fact that there are more two-earner households than there were forty, fifty years ago.

The problem then appears to be the failure of the minimum wage to keep up.  That, and the acceptance of illegal workers which keeps earnings even below that point. I think that if government is to have any say in how businesses operate, that should be a priority. The next step, of course, would be to penalize companies who attempt to avoid paying workers reasonably (though I do see labor union jobs often out of control earnings-wise) by moving production to foreign soil.

So were the housing costs out of sight? I don’t think so. Were mortgages given out indiscriminately to unqualified buyers? Yes. Under pressure from government good intent to help lower income earners to afford housing, and to cater to promising up and comers who bought mansions they worked too long hours to spend much time enjoying,  the housing market was brought down. But was it a problem of overevaluation? I don’t think so.

But then, I always have seen things from a different angle.

At least once a week I don’t have a clue what I’m making for dinner until it’s time to start it. That’s when I start opening the refrigerator, the freezer, cabinet doors and take a run down the cellar to check the shelves and come up with either one of two meals: soup or something in a skillet. Tonight’s looked good enough to photograph and tasted much better:

Large shrimp (from my younger days, these are what I would call small, and those tiny canned shrimp I’d've called krill) started it off with garlic in hot Fra Diavalo oil, cumin, ginger, dill, and oyster sauce. Then some mushrooms, a can of oysters, and some shredded cabbage last minute just before the sauce is thickened. Served over rice with saffron flavoring, it was yummy.

The man has had a hard day. He’s sitting in his leather chair, feet propped up on the matching hassock, nearly asleep. His loving wife has an idea. She goes and gets his slippers, kneels beside the hassock and unties his left shoe. He wakes and asks her what she’s doing, smiles at her thoughtfulness. She gently pulls his slipper on. The man laughs. She adjusts it a bit on his foot. He is still laughing. Without a word he uncrosses his feet and she can clearly see she’s put his left slipper on his right foot.

Anne always makes me laugh–or cry–and her greeting today just cracked me up:

Happy St. Urho’s Day! St. Urho is said to have chased the grasshoppers out of Finland, thus saving the grape crop. God bless the humble grape. I trust you’re wearing the traditional colors of Royal Purple and Nile Green.

Until I realized it was not Anne’s humor but the truth!

It’s taken 19 years, but my husband is accustomed to my frugal ways and so in these times of financial uncertainty we’ve more easily weathered some of the necessary changes caused by job loss and its aftermath.

I’m an ant all year-round so that in bad times, my grasshopper can come out and play to offset the worry and fill in the sudden wealth of time that comes with the sudden loss of money. Our friend Gus said just the other night that he’s heading to our house in case of a total meltdown since he’s aware of my hoarding nature and my stocked shelves in the basement. BTW, I finally figured it would be a smart idea to put a manual can-opener down there too.

The other day I made stuffed cabbage again (with beef this time, and barley and chick-peas) and though I made fewer than usual, I always put a can of crushed and a can of plum tomatoes into the pot. Usually the only other thing I add to flavor it is a little salt and fresh garlic cloves because the meat mixture is spiced up enough. Well, I had a lot of tomato sauce left over this time and it was so good–picking up the flavor of the cabbage-rolled meat after a few reheatings that I couldn’t just throw it away.

Being just enough for two people I added two cubes of pesto (homemade and frozen in ice cube trays), a splash of red wine, and some peeled shrimp and heated it to put over spaghetti. While the Italian cook may sneer at the bits of cabbage mixed in, I must say, it was delicioso!

Science, physics, astronomy, all, like politics, are facts as seen from a particular view and like it, are subject to change if one is open-minded.

This February 18th article in the Scientific American, Was Einstein Wrong? A Quantum Threat to Special Relativity, upsets our world with possibility and it challenges our beliefs. It’s likely disconcerting to realize that something so neatly tied up and stored as truth is open to the possibility of being wrong.

Reading about the Madoff swindle, I find so many folks laughing and figuring that the rich deserved what they got. But the rich pay big taxes and are the main source of income for charity groups. In an article in Vanity Fair, there’s this:

The center of the storm was the predominantly Jewish Palm Beach Country Club. The sand-colored building, with its fine restaurants and 18-hole golf course, sits between the Atlantic Ocean and Lake Worth. Membership is based not on what you have—the $350,000 initiation fee is the least concern of the admissions committee—but on what you give away. Madoff became a member in 1996. “You won’t get in unless you can demonstrate that you’ve been charitable in a big way,” said Richard Rampell, an accountant with a number of clients who are members. “They want to see a history of many years of giving every year at least what the initiation fee is, and they ask you to prove it.… I have a few clients who give 10 to 20 times that much every year to charity.” One member told me, “We built the hospital, we built the Kravis Center for the Performing Arts. We built it all. This is just not a come-and-have-a-party group.”

You hurt the big guys, and believe me, the little guys are going to get hurt as well.