Saying yes...

What Floats Your Creative Boat?

It's apparent that a large number of the people who pass through here are creative. Heck, I think everybody is creative, it's just some people go after it more fervently than others. What gets your creativity churning? What gets the ideas flowing? BP just took a trip to NYC. That jumped started him. BG agreed that when she leaves that city, her mind is brimming with ideas.

Some people turn to music, some to naps, some just open their eyes and take in whatever it is they're seeing. Some people are influenced by zany blogs. I've used all of the above and more.

What floats your creative boat?? I'm guessing we've all got creative catalysts in common, but I'm guessing we've all got our surefire tricks stashed away for those moments when all else fails.  Pony up and share!

Certain things just shouldn't be dissected

Grizzled, the lamblets and I went to see the Homer/Hopper exhibit yesterday. I have been waiting for this for almost a year. While I respect and love Homer, Hopper was the part of the duo that had me all in a tizzy. I was going to see Hopper upon Hopper upon Hopper all in one small area.

The exhibit started off with Homer. I knew it would. Homer was going to be the vegetable you needed to eat before you got to the dessert. Homer's portion of the exhibit consisted mainly of watercolors. They were fabulous, they were breathtaking, there were many. I really tried to give them my full focus, but was fully conscious of the Hopper carrot that was dangling at the end of the stick. I wanted that carrot. Still, the Homer exhibit was enlightening. I knew some about Homer, but there was still plenty left to glean. There were some oils interspersed with the watercolors and seeing The Herring Net is always a treat. I tried to keep my mind where I was, tried to not get ahead of myself and take it all in... but still... a bounty of Hoppers was a mere room away.

In between the Homer and Hopper exhibits was a vestibule where you could take a break and cleanse your visual palate so to speak. The lamblets wanted to sit on the benches for a bit. Grizzled wanted to check in with work. He had taken the day off, but it was a crazed day and his office was slightly understaffed. I didn't want to wait... I could see the self-portraits of Hopper peaking out through the entryway, but I paced. I looked at the large blow-ups of Hopper and his studio and I waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, I couldn't stand it anymore. I said they could catch up with me, but damn it, I was going in! The entry was filled with many Hopper watercolors, but by the time I hit the first oil done in classic Hopper colors, I was a goner. I did not read anything, having read most of this before. I rarely looked at the titles, having known those too. I merely stood before them and took them in.

I am one of those people who loves Hopper. I know he is far from the best, I know many consider him trite, but there is something in his work that for me, transcends all of that and here I was, standing in the middle of room after room of works I had only seen before on the printed page. Nothing can top seeing an oil painting in person and then to see so many of them. I was speechless. I did not want to talk. I did not want to dissect. I did not care about the method. I just wanted to soak them in. It was an unending display of famous Hopper after famous Hopper... when walking into one room that held 4 of my favorites right next to each other, I gasped. Grizzled asked me what was up and I said I felt like I was watching the finale of a fireworks show, one huge display followed by another followed by another. It was heaven and my insides were singing. I could have stayed there all day. Ideally, I would have been able to stay all night as well with no other people milling about. Frankly, I was surprised there was so much milling. I felt frozen on the outside while my insides were buzzing. It was that beautiful and elusive combo of feeling completely still while also feeling incredibly alive and alert... but I really don't want to dissect it. I just want it to be what it is and what it is, is fabulous.

If anyone is a Hopper fan, I highly suggest seeing trying to see this exhibit as it tours.

Outside my window...

This little guy just came to visit. He hung out in the bush that's right outside my window (the window that still has a screen on it hence the dark photo). Looks like he scored some tasty seed.

I keep thinking they should be leaving soon. They're breeding territory is way up north. Our other bird populations seem to be making their seasonal switch, but the ol' red-breasted nuthatch, my new bird crush, is still hanging on.

There's a light at the end of this viral tunnel...

This morning is the first morning since 3/14 where I have woken up and actually felt like health might be my co-pilot. It's been an up and down route for the past 10 or so days. Some days were a total loss, some days gave the illusion of wellness being around the corner. But today... today I feel like I might actually have oxygen circulating in my brain again and although I'm far from being springy, I don't feel quite as much like death on a soda cracker.

One should never underestimate the benefits of oxygen and health for clear thinking. Oh sure, I may have thought I was constructing normal sentences over the past week or so, but looking back with a newly clear mind, I realize the light may have been on, but no one was home.

I'm guilty of poor thinking when distracted, tired, or sick. Grizzled has been a witness to many mind-boggling comments to come out of my mouth when in these situations. They kind of scare him since he believes he married a capable, thinking person.

This past week only added to my cache of "Oh no... did I say that out loud?!?" comments and while they made perfect sense to me at the time, I know they'll be used to tease me for some time to come.

These thoughts rank right up there with the dreaded time I asked aloud in the car which gas station had a shell for a logo. Hey, I was distracted... and tired...

This week, topping the list of insane comments caused by the viral plague are, me telling Grizzled not to throw out the Sunday paper (I was in bed for most of Sunday ) because Easter fell on a Sunday this year and I wanted to see what was in it!

The other topper of the week would have been when I was slumped on the couch, trying to watch something with Grizzled, when an ad for Two and a Half Men came on with a very busty woman and a leering Charlie Sheen and I said something to the effect of, "I wonder if men liked breasts before advertising became so overt or if advertising caused it... I mean, I wonder it there was any interest in them before boobs were put in our faces!?!"

Grizzled calmly responded... "Oh no... men have never been interested in breasts in their faces before advertising told them to be. For centuries, men haven't cared the least about breasts... only recently...".

I'm feeling better though and think I can actually think. If any nonsensical comments were left at any of your places over the past 10 days, I was not myself... I do believe though that logic and oxygen have returned.

There's always YouTube

I've got nada when it comes to post ideas... I am a news blooper junkie though so I thought I'd put up one of my favorites.

My Nod to Brando and March Madness

It's March Madness time and Brando is all a'twitter...

It is the holiest day of the year...the start of the NCAA Basketball Tournament. I have been distracted from posting because, as usual, I am poring over basketball stats in the hope of making a bracket that doesn't suck. I will also be using my combined powers of wireless Internet and working at home to attach my office to the couch today and tomorrow. For the record, I have North Carolina, Wisconsin, Memphis, and UConn in the Final Four. Upset special is Davidson over Georgetown in round two, and Marquette getting to the Elite Eight. My bracket should be ruined by 4:15 Eastern today.

There was a time when I loved basketball. There was a time when I got caught up in the fervor. I went to a Big 10 school known for its team and then moved to a city where Michael Jordan ruled. I like basketball, I just don't follow it anymore. Now when March Madness rolls around, instead of pouring over the brackets, I think back to a time, long, long ago when a certain chair-throwing coach and I had a brief meeting.

At the end of my roller coaster college career, I was in need of one credit to graduate. I was fried, I was done, I was not going to take a 3 credit class at that point now matter how much I valued learning. That left me one choice, I'd be taking a Phys Ed class. My options were limited, only 2 classes were offered at this time. I could not take scuba diving, but saw a light at the end of my educational tunnel when I noticed they were offering "Bait and Fly Casting".

I had gone fishing once in my life when I was around 7, but I thought, what the hell... I'll take it. I was the only female and it was painfully obvious that everyone else had spent plenty of time fishing.  We actually did very little fishing in class, but spent the majority of our time in the gym casting weighted lures at hula hoops. I did learn my blood knots though and my muscles memorized the 2/10 or 3/11 or whatever positioning of cast and release it was.

At the end of the session, my glorious one credit in sight, we were told we were going to have a special guest. It seems an esteemed member of the university was not only good at throwing chairs, he was also good at throwing out a variety of lines. Yes, our famous coach was an avid fly fisherman. He was also going through a divorce, one of his many crises, so he was throwing out lines to many young women on campus.  I happened to be on the receiving end of one that day. He asked me if I might like to go fishing with him. I said thanks, but no.

I caught no fish in that class, but I did briefly snag a basketball coach and while I admired his basketball abilities and what he could coax out of a team, he was still kind of scary. I did not want to land this man, so I cut bait, scooped up my one credit, and ran.

Spring is here...

... however, the forecast says 8 more inches of snow this evening. Argh.

Who Says Fish Are Cold-Blooded

Dr. Fish is giving us a glimpse of his softer side. Go read his post about his daughter's 2:30 AM wake-up calls. There isn't a parent alive who doesn't have a love/hate moment with that time when a sweet little child realizes they can get what they need from themselves and that we won't be heroes forever.

She had learned a lesson tonight. She had learned that she could not always rely on her father for comfort. She had learned to comfort herself. While this was the lesson that had to be taught, was the lesson I had taught, I found no comfort in it.

I found loss.

Read the rest here.

Overheard...

I overheard the eldest lamblet talking to her sister the other day. She saying something about, "Mom and Dad being semi-happily married for X number of years...". I had to step in and ask her what she was talking about. She said that her father and I seemed to be happy together, but there were also many times when we were less than thrilled with each other. As I started to launch off on my "Marriage is a Challenge No Matter How Much You Love Someone" speech, she cut me off and said, "No, I think semi-happily married is a good thing. The marriages where people are always swearing they're 100% happy are the marriages where one of them ends up dead!"

No doubt killing each other with kindness... :)

Real life beckons

The blinds on this blog will be down for awhile. See you sometime after the ice melts.