Historian. Author. Ranter. Idea Junkie.
This a blog. Sort of. I rarely use it anymore.
It's Wednesday, which means that Dawn Farmer, one of the contributors to Scholars & Rogues, has posted one of her amazing images at S&R, and the floor is open for visitors to figure out what it is. It's a great way to start the day. The image is always fascinating and the comments are worth the price of admission. (Not, of course, that there IS a price of admission, but you get my drift.)
[Yet another] debate over the future of newspapers and journalism, which I discovered when I visited Prospect's site to check out the article on drinking and creativity (which I mentioned in my previous post).
If you live in the Austin area, you're in for a treat: An encore screening of "Beer Wars," followed by another live discussion, this time with producer-director Anat Baron and film "star" Greg Koch of Stone Brewing. Check it out.
Okay, this is interesting. The "money quote" is this:
The creative effect of alcohol, then, seems to involve a delicate counterpoint between stimulation and relaxation.
Now, if only we could all figure out where and how to achieve that "delicate counterpoint." Tip o' the snifter to Drew Weinstein, a "friend" at Facebook. (Truth be told, I have no idea who he is, although I think he may be a "friend" of my son-in-law's and that's how he ended up "friending" me at Facebook. (It is called "friending," isn't it?) (If so, awful word!)
I started this post as part of the previous one, but when I'd added three footnotes, and a couple of footnotes that were footnotes of footnotes, well, I realized that I'd dived into a rant, one that required an entry of its own.
One project that has recently devoured my time is: Remodeling. The husband and I have decided to remodel our kitchen and some other areas of the house. Well, okay, more accurately: I decided I wanted to do that and after putting up considerable resistance, the husband realized he was fighting a lost cause and he caved in to my infinite capacity for getting my own way when inspired-and-on-a-mission.
Anyway, neither of us have ever done anything like this, so, I, being no fool, realized I needed to read up on the process so I can engage with it as a educated participant.
No surprise, that's taking time. Lots of it. Anyone who rushes into remodeling is, frankly, a fool. There's much to know, learn, and ponder.
It's also fascinating. I've lived in dozens of structures in my life: I attended five grade schools, and two junior highs (or middle schools, as those are now called), and have moved at least two dozen times as an adult). As a result, until relatively recently, my dwellings have more about expedience than choice. But now we're living where we expect to live for the duration.
Anyway, much of my reading, thinking, and learning has been inspired and informed by the work of Sarah Susanka.
And that, in turn, has affirmed something I already believed: I am sick to death of living in spaces designed by the Realtor/Contractor Complex, and of the conventional wisdom that if you do alter a house, think first of its resale value.
To which I say: Fuck that. Or, as I more elegantly told the architect and the husband at the outset: "During this process, DO NOT say to me "Oh, we need to think about the resale value."
Translation: Do not tell me to live in and use my house in a way that will please and appeal to some future, random, and, in my opinion, nebulous, potential, future, owner.
As a result, until relatively recently, my dwellings have more about expedience than choice. But now we're living where we expect to live for the duration. We bought this house planning to leave it horizontally. By the time it's resold, I'll either be dead or too old and infirm to give a rat's ass.
example, I've FINALLY persuaded the husband that we don't need that damn jacuzzi thing that came with the house. I told him that the day we bought the house. I told him that when we added a new shower to that bathroom (the one it came with was apparently designed for toddler pygmies).
I've continued to tell him that for the nine years we've lived here. He finally got the message. Apparently he's an advocate of the Slow Learner's Movement.
End of rant. For now. Of course now it's occurred to me that I start a new blog series. "The Remodeling Experience: Inside Out." Or something equally catchy. Hmmm.... Must go ponder.
A few months ago, I read an article somewhere about "slow blogging." It referred to the blogosphere's version of the slow food movement: blog slowly and with care and only after careful deliberation, etc. etc.
I thought "Hmmm... that sounds like something people who are more neurotic than even me would consider."
I mean, I'm all in favor of "slow food," or at least good, thoughtful food --- but when a girl's gotta eat, she's gotta eat. Same with blogging. Which sort of brings me to my point: slow blogging here because once again life is getting in my eyes. Main problem is that I stupidly agreed to write a long essay for a beer magazine and that project has turned into a time sink. (And once I finish it, I believe I will have officially expounded, dissected, and disseminated the last of my original thoughts about beer.)
But --- never fear: the next long, rambling series is not far away. It will provide historical perspective on the nature of "revolutions," inspired by a book I just read (and have mentioned here several times): Daniel Goleman's Ecological Intelligence. So, hey, you should read that book so you'll know what I'm talking about when I get around to that series.
Website of Maureen Ogle, author and historian. Books include Ambitious Brew: The Story of American Beer; In Meat We Trust: An Unexpected History of Carnivore America; and Key West: History of An Island of Dreams.
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