Happy Christmas Day, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Now

Christmas day is nearly over. Here’s a Dino-discovery from a neighborhood walk —

Doesn’t every neighborhood need Christmas T-Rex?

… and a little something from the tree.

Our parents had bubble lights on the tree when we were growing up. Now my brother has some new ones in their honor.  I’ve downsized decorations along with everything else, so I just appreciate the ones that friends, family, and neighbors put up.

One more holiday: right now, we’re in the middle of winter Discardia (December 21 – January 9), so Happy Discardia folks, are you ready to reduce, reuse, and recycle?

More on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Now

Celebrating Ada Lovelace (and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Oops!)

Ada Lovelace made me start hoarding magazines. Well, made me start keeping magazines that were already hoarded and packed in the basement…

Augusta Ada Lovelace, 1815-1852. The cover article here is about the programming language “Ada”, developed by the Dept of Defense, and named for her.

As for the Oops factor, Dec 10 was the 200th anniversary of Ada’s birth. I was planning to write this post then, but oops…

As the “first computer programmer” and the daughter of a poet (Lord Byron), she’s a natural bridge between my love of the arts and the profession that gave me a living and a retirement, not to mention many years of airline passes. And – bonus – she’s a woman! — but I won’t get into gender politics in the IT industry. Well, maybe just a little… here’s an excerpt from another magazine I found…

Technology and Society – Spring 2000

As for hoarding magazines, there were lots of old Smithsonian‘s in the same box (and many earlier boxes). I didn’t have trouble letting them go at first. There were so many, and they were packed along with hundreds of dense computer publications that I knew I’d never read, so the ones I found first were easy to donate.

Then I found Ada, and I’m down to the last few boxes of magazines. Now I can’t seem to let things go without reading them.

See? Still more magazines…

Is there a cure for this magazine-madness?

More on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Oops

More on Ada Lovelace

Theater Programs, My Goofy Collections, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Boundaries

There’s a porous boundary between collecting and hoarding. I see I wasn’t paying attention when I crossed over it. Way over it. These are Theater Programs — just a small portion of the ones I, um, collected.

This stack is bigger than it looks. I counted 77 to discard, and I’m only a little way through the “collection”.

I can’t think of anything else to do with them but recycle. I don’t think there’s a museum of theater programs to donate to, although a little conscious googling reveals that MoMA has a collection of Parisian Avant-Garde theater programs (here’s a link). Too bad mine don’t fit that category.

Yet, I am thinking of keeping a few, silly as it sounds. I’m a country girl. I’d been to the opera on a previous international trip, but I’d never gone to plays until my first trip back to London after I started working for the airlines.  I went to A Chorus Line at Drury Lane, and I was hooked. From then on I went to the theater every trip, sometimes every night. Programs were large and glossy, all through the 1980s and even into the 2000’s. After that? Here’s program-shrinkage from the Alliance Theater in Atlanta, 2001-2014 —

Theater Programs are shrinking, but, that’s a good thing. There’ll be less waste.

In the beginning, I collected programs so I’d remember which actors I’d seen in London or New York. I kept that interest over the years through subscriptions to Missouri Repertory Theater in Kansas City, the Alliance in Atlanta, and trips to the Shaw Festival in Ontario. Now, looking back through the programs, I realize I’ve seen so many productions over the years that there are many I’ve forgotten.

Some theaters encourage us to leave our programs there for the next audience, and I realize that anything else is wasteful. I wonder how long it will be before we can download them or view them on our phones while in the lobby? The Met Opera already e-mails program notes before its cinema simulcasts, so I expect help is on the way.

In The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Marie Kondo’s mandate is to discard any possessions that do not spark joy. Examining the programs did give me joy, but I have to admit they’ve fulfilled their purpose. Now I can cross that boundary back into “collection” and disperse my hoard …

Can anyone think of a good use for old theater programs?

More on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Boundaries

An official collection of programs and playbills

Kitchen Window Keepsakes, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Grid

My kitchen window opens a view to the back porch and beyond — but just now I’m looking at my keepsakes on this side of the grid.

Are you wondering what’s with the little red dress?

It was at least half my life ago when, on a visit to my parents, I walked into the kitchen and fell about laughing at the sight of the dish soap in a tiny dress. My mother, who shared my hilarity, had made it — apparently, dressed-up dish soap was all the rage. She asked if I wanted one. “Of course!” I said. She made this one for me.  Not long ago, when clearing out boxes, I found it packed away. Naturally, I decided to use it. Here’s a closer look —

A prim country dish soap, very retro. I don’t know who started this fad. Could it have been related to skirts for piano legs?

Problem: modern dish soap containers tend to be of different proportions, and it took a while to find one the right size. Now that I have one, I plan to keep it and refill it, so that every time I look at it I’ll remember what fun I always had with my mother.

One more thing, not quite so easy to see —

One of my nieces gave me this silver wire spider web (the spider has a crystal body)

Not that I need extra spiders around the house. There are plenty of natural ones here, especially in the fall, but it tickles me to have a favorite gift in the window where it catches the light. My niece knows me well. I’ve long been a spider fan, but right now I especially appreciate that — unlike the family of spiders who recently moved into the basement stairwell — this one is pretty, and it doesn’t reproduce.

One more photo. I looked for a picture of my parents’ kitchen and found this one, not very clear, and taken before I was born — here they are, doing the dishes. I love the glimpse of my mother’s face in the mirror.

Dishwashers must not have been invented yet, or my father would have had one. He was always the first with gadgets.

My mother always wished for a window over their sink. I think she would have liked it that I put my keepsakes in mine.

Do you have keepsakes in the kitchen?

For more on the weekly photo challenge: Grid

Nostalgia, Vintage Aluminum Tumblers, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Close Up

It’s tall, it’s cold, and it once held my pink lemonade flavored kool-aid. It’s an  aluminum tumbler from the 1960s, in close-up.

I filled it with ice water just to get that familiar hot-summer/cold-glass/water-beading feeling.

I found two in the back of the cupboard, a red one and a gold one. Here’s why I went looking for them — I saw this set at the Smithsonian Museum of American History last week. Oh joy. Just like my mother used to have…

Nostalgia at the Smithsonian. *Want* — Too bad I don’t have the sleeves or the pitcher.

I think I missed my calling. Clearly I was born to be a museum curator.

Our tumblers held our tea, our ice water, our lemonade — all summer, at the kitchen table, on the front porch, or sitting outdoors on a quilt in the yard. Sometimes they even made it to the table at Thanksgiving or Christmas. Now I’m giving my two to Sam (aka Mr Mid-Century Modern) who remembers a set from his childhood too. I only regret that my tumblers are not as bright and pristine as the Smithsonian’s. I’m still hoping I find at least a couple more.

Here are mine, in clips from my father’s home movies… ready for their close up.

Tales of Christmas past…

That ghostly highlight is the sun coming in on my cousin’s shoulder. (now if I could just find that blue tumbler)

These tables are laden with my mother’s and my Aunt Betty’s home cooking. Food like that just doesn’t exist any more.

So here’s my glass. Right now it’s way over half-full. How’s yours?

 

 

 

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Close Up

 

Monuments, Fridge Magnets, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Half and Half

Half and Half or night and day: the Washington Monument can work for either.

Night view from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  Composition-wise, exactly half-and-half is a bit unsettling, so let’s make that roughly half-and-half.

A monumental division of picture space from a different viewpoint.

The US Marine Corps War Memorial works for a diagonal half and half, bisected by flag pole.

Iwo Jima Memorial – U. S. Marine Corps War Memorial, a view from the evening tour.

Can you tell I’m just back from a trip to Washington DC?

Meanwhile, here on the home front, downsizing continues. Still, I’m appreciative that the Smithsonian isn’t downsizing… they need to keep their stuff (and I wish they’d keep some of mine too). The back seat of my car is full of books I’m ready to donate to the library, and my next basement project is to figure out if the the set of Harvard Classics I found is complete and in good shape.

Now, just one more thing from Washington: shot through the window of ‘Julia Child’s Kitchen’ —

Julia Child’s refrigerator magnets – from the Smithsonian Museum of American History.

And, on the home front —

Sandy’s fridge magnets… well, some of them. I’m downsizing. And by the way, we saw the ‘real’ ruby slippers at the Smithsonian.

James Joyce’s deserve a closer look —

James Joyce’s fridge magnets.

What’s on your fridge?

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Half and Half

Writers, Typewriters, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol

What’s still a potent symbol for writers, even years (make that decades) after falling out of use?

Typewriters of course. And to carry it one step further, typewriter keys carry the symbols that make up our language. This is the vintage 1940s L.C. Smith typewriter my mother learned to type with.

Placing it on the newspaper for a photo op felt symbolic too…

Note that this typewriter is “super speed” — I don’t know how the space-bar got broken. Maybe someone was typing too fast…?

Here’s Jr-High me with the typewriter, supervised by Pete the Parakeet. Hipsters take note; my glasses might be back in style soon.  And, that space bar was just fine back then — I swear.

This picture surfaced a couple of weeks ago, and deftly illustrates one of the dangers of finding old photos — they expose the dorkiness factor.

Another find when unpacking boxes, an antique green Oliver No. 9 Standard “Printype” —

From this angle it resembles a butterfly.

The keys are loops that come down toward the center from either side. I’m fascinated by the FIG key. I’m not sure, but I think it’s like a CAP key for the top row. I like the slightly offset  G* key too. It’s from 1912, folks, at 103 years old it’s OK to be a little out of line.

The Oliver was one of my first ever thrift store finds, and yes, I should have known better. At the time, I thought I’d have it cleaned and restored, but then computers came along and I never looked back.

Just one more  — this view of my father’s old Remington portable looks like it’s smiling despite its decrepit ribbon.  I never saw him use it. I was in love with its pop-up keys (they fold down so it can fit in its case). I thought I was rescuing it from the dust of his service station, but I didn’t get around to restoring it either.

Now, what shall I do with my typewriter collection?

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol

Another Cabinet Explosion, Dinosaur Muffins, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Door

These are the doors to the kitchen cabinet under my cooktop. They don’t look dangerous, but think again. One day I realized there was a lot of stuff inside I don’t use, so I decided to boldly delve in and take everything out.

It looks like the cabinet exploded — I’m always amazed by how this happens. There were things in the back I hadn’t seen in years.

How did it all fit? You can see I haven’t even taken out the top shelf stuff yet.

See how I even had pans stored in the ovens, how sad is that? 

Sorting out a big box of things to donate — great. Finding goofy things I hadn’t seen in ages — if this were a credit card ad, that would be the “priceless” part.

Rainbow’s End Blend herbal tea was my favorite about, uh, 30 years ago.

The box was empty of course, but apparently I kept it in remembrance, and through at least 2 moves. This tea would have been worth it for the name alone. Here are some more Golden Harvest varieties… I could do with a cup of Mystic Spice right about now.

What’s in Rainbow’s End Blend, and others?

Here’s something else I hadn’t seen in a while — my dinosaur muffin pan.

I haven’t had it since the Jurassic, but it has been a while.

When I first got this, I wondered if there was a way to convert it to make ice-pops. Mainly what I had in mind were “Tricera-pops”.

Oh, and another good thing, once I donated my extra stuff I have room in the cabinet for the pans I used to store in the oven. Now I’ll see how many of the remaining things I really use before the next round of clearing out. It may not be politically correct to say this during Plastic Free July (and by the way there were plastic containers here that I bought before I knew better) but I’d like to put in a good word for my reuseable vinyl shelf paper — all I had to do was take it out and wash it, then put it back. No waste.

Kitchen cabinet after downsizing – still a little messy but much better than it was.

 Have you had a cabinet explosion lately?

(P.S. — I kept the dino-pan.)

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Door

Flying First Class, Pinching Menus, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Muse

Unpacking yet more of Bob’s boxes in the last few weeks, I’ve uncovered a trove of airline menus from past flights in 1st Class. Seeing these, I could say his muse was food. When these menus were new, we were airline employees, with pass riding and upgrades as part of our benefits. Before flights were packed as full as they are these days, we often got upgraded.

When menus were shiny — I don’t remember the difference in Ambassador and Royal Ambassador. Apparently it had to do with silver and gold. Or maybe it was the upstairs/downstairs of the 747’s.

Before I had Bob to travel with, I seldom stopped to eat in nice restaurants, but instead found a cafeteria or a grocery store, or got a sandwich on the go. Seeing these menus reminded me of our first trips together and how amazed I was at the time he was willing to invest in deciding where to eat. Our first international trip together was to Greece, and I remember walking up and down and around all the streets near our Athens hotel that first evening, waiting (and starving) while he read the menus in the windows and deliberated, sometimes going back to look again and compare.

But back to menus in the air:

The libations were shiny too.

And over the years the menus evolved:

A selection — I’m guessing through the 1980s.

Bob often traveled on business, so he collected menus from several other airlines too:

KLM Menus were a class act, and by the looks of it I’m guessing there were libations involved here as well.

Years later, in New York City for his cancer treatments, Bob lamented that there we were, in Manhattan, surrounded by wonderful restaurants, but chemo made him too nauseous to feel like eating. That soon changed though. After his surgery and through seven years of subsequent visits for check-ups and treatments, he got to enjoy those restaurants many times. I remember now that when I first started sorting through things after his death, I found stacks of menus then too — from his New York favorites.

But one more thing. I’m not so innocent myself. I found a menu that I saved. My friend Donna and I went to the Cafe Royale in London just to get this one. It had something to do with our favorite sci-fi novel of the moment, a Michael Moorcock time travel fantasy, where the raucous aliens partied in the bar of the Cafe Royale — picture the bar scene from Star Wars set in Victorian London.

Cafe Royal Bar – you can tell from the prices that this was some time back.

 What to do with the menus? Maybe I’ll check out eBay. I did notice not long ago that someone was selling a TWA seat-occupied card. And yes, I have one of those too.

Have you ever collected menus?

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Muse

A Rainbow of Quilts, Encyclopedia Britannica, and the Weekly Photo Challenge: Roy G. Biv

I can’t resist sharing a few more quilts from the Georgia Celebrates Quilts show. These fit nicely into this week’s Roy G.Biv photo challenge —

The Way Out – Margaret Williams

The quilter based this work on a photograph she took when emerging from the Tottenham Court Road tube station in London, 2010, and made it for her guild’s “Inspired by Travel” challenge.

This next one’s called “Let Your Light Shine” …

And a detail shows just how much light there is. I’d never seen sequins or “sets” in quilts before this, and there were several examples in the show.

Quilt detail – Let Your Light Shine – Mary Mattimoe, quilted by Regina Carter. I love the sun-motifs with shining rays.

A closer look, quilt detail  (sunshine after the rain — I’m beginning to see the light)

One more, and this one’s more obviously rainbow-themed — an applique of colored strips in rainbow order applied to seven colors of gray fabric, adapted from a pattern published by Kansas City Star Quilts.

Rainbow Explosion – Jan Cunningham, quilted by Bella Bamert.

As for my downsizing projects, work goes on.  This week’s progress: selling a box full of books, a 29 volume set of vintage 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica I found in the basement. It’s always dangerous to sort though books, and the detailed articles, wonderful illustrations, and fold-out maps in this set were tempting me big time. I knew I couldn’t keep them though, so I listed them on eBay. I was feeling quite triumphant when they sold (who knew that anyone besides me would be attracted to vintage encyclopedias?) that is, until time came to pack and mail what turned out to be just over 87 pounds of books — but now it’s done and I’m glad they’re off to a new home.

Oh, and who is Roy G. Biv? He’s the acronym for the seven colors of the rainbow: Red/Orange/Yellow/Green/Blue/Indigo/Violet. I’ll bet the encyclopedia knows about him.

 How long has it been since you’ve seen an encyclopedia?

For more on the Weekly Photo Challenge: Roy G Biv

And Encyclopedia Britannica

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