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My Eye and I

I went to the opthamologist today. As expected my eyes were dilated and not surprisingly, even with two sets of dark glasses, by the time I spent 45 minutes driving home in the bright sunlight I had a headache and had to retire to a darkened room.

This week is going so well. Yesterday I was depressed because I finally have the floors I've always wanted, and although that prospect should and does make me happy, it also made me sad because I felt there was nothing nearly as exciting to look forward to in the immediate future.

Not that I'm really complaining, I think I just needed a bit of self-indulgent wallowing. Increasingly I think we all need these moments or days when we embrace the pain and despair that is also part of human existence. Wallowing allows us to take a peek inside ourselves to see what really matters. Or perhaps we just need to allow ourselves a day of rest. Too much business is probably bad for the self in its purest sense.

Anyway, as I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, both cats at my side, I started wondering about my eyes. There is nothing going on. My eyes are good, I just need new glasses, which I already knew. I can't read a knitting chart which is why I am basically knitting stockinette right now. In fact I have trouble reading at all, which doesn't seem to make me want to read any less, it just means that I get a lot of headaches from the effort of trying to read things I can't see.

But that isn't really what I was thinking about. I was thinking about eye-dominance and vision. Eventually this made me get off the bed and squint at the bright light of my computer screen. I wanted to know why I am strongly left eye dominant if my right eye is my stronger, less myopic, eye.

I did learn a few things:

Eye dominance and handedness are unrelated.

More people are right-eye dominant than are left-eye dominant.

Of those people whose nearsightedness is not evenly distributed between their eyes (anisometropia), the more myopic eye is usually the dominant eye. (Raise hand here).

I learned lots of other cool things like how the fact that my eyes are so anisometropic might be a contributing factor in why I also have no depth perception. And that although people have said I have "lazy eye", I do not in fact have amblyopia, but I do have a strong tendency for that right eye to wander a bit, especially when I am tired.

But I didn't find out why. Is there some advantage to more focused on that which is close at hand rather than that which is further away? Well, is there and survival advantage as opposed to say the advantage it confers for sewing, knitting, and reading which are probably not highly necessary skills in terms of basic survival? And is there a connection between the focus of the eye on the world immediately around the person and the internal focus on the I? Would I be more outwardly focused if my dominant eye were more outwardly focused? It seems there is more to ponder

February 22, 2011
A Carnival Beneath My Feet

The floors are finished and they are everything I had hoped they would be. Perhaps everything I feared too, as I worried that they may be too bright, and there are moments, usually brief, when they shock my eye. But overall, I am happier than I anticipated being, and I am thrilled with they way the colors in the floor marry all the disparate elements in the three rooms creating a much more harmonious whole, a much brighter, more harmonious whole.

Now just to get the furniture back, the bookcases rebuilt and all the little details settled.

February 21, 2011
Sunday in the City

Sunday I took the train down to NYC to meet K-Line. We were supposed to meet at CraftBar at 12:15 but I was early. So I wandered. I didn't have to wander far. Two blocks up Broadway I stumbled into WolfHome in their new store. I walked out with several samples, including one which is destined to be my new duvet cover.

Then it was on to lunch with K-Line who proved to be as lovely, charming, bubbly and delightful as I imagined. We dined and chatted, walked and talked, drank excellent Bloody Marys (actually the Leatherface Mary from CraftBar) and genuinely terrible coffee. We discussed glaring lack of good coffee in NY. I know there are isolated outposts of fine brew, but generally, it is a city where even four star restaurants seem to serve coffee that borders on mediocre.

But back to my day of walking and talking. We ended up at the Empire Hotel where there was to be a small blogger meet-up and where I was lucky enough to meet Wendy Brandes, she who designed my swear rings and many more elegant pieces of jewelry. I had a fabulous time talking to Wendy who is just gorgeous, bright, charming, accomplished and very interesting. In fact I neglected to mingle, hogging Wendy's attentions until I had to run back to Grand Central Terminal before my coach turned back into a pumpkin.

I got to Grand Central in time to see part of the Moncler Flash Mob before I had to push my way out of the crowd and onto my train. This video captures part of it, it seemed like the perfect way to end a fabulous day.

February 15, 2011
My Valentine

My sweetie presented me with this valentine this morning.

He apparently tried to call a florist but couldn't make the phone work. He wanted to paint something but his easel and paints are put away because the flooring contractors are here this week. In desperation he drew this last night.

I think it is the sweetest valentine I have ever gotten.

On other notes, I have a lot I want to share this week, but it is also a really crazy week. I have a crew of men here installing new floors in my family room, dining room, and kitchen, which is pretty much the central part of my house, the plumbers are supposed to come and repair plumbing problems from last week including replumbing a sink and a water softener, and there was an issue with one of our electrical panels yesterday which resulted in a small explosion, smoke and loss of power to half the house, luckily the half that runs off the emergency generator. So needless to say this week looks busy and my ability to post may be erratic.

February 14, 2011
The Road to Adulthood, An Opera Review

I've been thinking about opera a lot lately. Well, more exactly, I've been salivating over Materfamilias' wonderful blog posts on behalf of the Vancouver Opera. Or perhaps I've been wasting my energy on idle wishes such as dreaming of going to New York to see Nixon in China at the Met. It is an impossibility of course. My carriage reverts to a pumpkin at 11 PM, which allows me no time for an evening performance and my Saturday is already spoken for. The caregiver situation has not been settled enough that I am comfortable negotiating exceptions nor am I ready to go to the opera and leave my spouse sitting at home. Perhaps there will be another opportunity, but then I missed Nixon twenty-some-odd years ago at BAM as well. I gave up my forays to BAM upon marriage. I seem to have survived the loss.

Instead I must content myself with recordings and the pleasures of the music alone. It is not such a dreadful fate but the simple truth is that I much prefer the visual stimulus of seeing an opera as well as hearing it. The exceptions, the operas I do listen to repeatedly, all seem to be contemporary. I am not sure if this is because they are sung in English (at least the ones I listen to are in English) and hence easier to follow narrative-wise, or if I personally find modern music easier to follow and understand than more classical forms. It is a probably a combination of the two.

Currently I have been spending a fair amount of time listening to an opera by Jonathan Dove called Tobias and the Angel. I don't know anything about the composer. I came across the opera upon the recommendation of one of those website algorithms that tries to predict things you might like based on past searches. In this case, I was looking for a recording of Benjamin Britten's Noye's Fludde, and when the recommendation appeared on my monitor, I was simply taken by the cover photo and decided to play a few snippets and see what I thought.

Aside from being one act operas based on religious themes, Tobias and Noye have nothing in common although I suspect that the algorithm is not sophisticated enough to make its recommendation on the actual music, but was rather looking at something along the lines of "modern religious opera". All this reminds me of a period years ago, back in the dark ages before PCs were in common use, when I worked for a computer time sharing company. Many of our clients were arts organizations, theaters, and regional symphony orchestras, and one of the things we were able to track was not just whether someone purchased tickets for opera or plays or magic shows, but something more along the lines of "attends Adams, Glass, Schoenberg, will attend most opera but avoids Wagner". We felt this allowed the organization to specifically target groups that might support particular endeavors and would be very helpful in sussing out what kinds of programming might be most successful. Unfortunately this was the hardest thing to sell and most of our clients were perfectly happy simply classifying their lists along broad themes, which they were able to easily do even on early PCs.

But back to the opera. I find Tobias and the Angel to be a rather enchanting opera. The characterizations are clear and beautiful performed and the story is beautifully realized by the performance. Although I tend to recall the actual apocryphal story of Tobias as a rather somber lesson on suffering the importance of patience, the opera is much more fun and joyous with a rather witty libretto and charming score. In this performance Tobias is a carefree n'er do well mostly concerned with dancing and having a good time and his journey with the angel represents his journey to adulthood and learning to see and listen to the world and to adjust priorities and expectations so that he can eventually find love and be reunited with his family. Just as in the story, Tobias overcomes the all the normal obstacles to growing up — wrestling with and defeating a giant fish, saving his wife from her demon lover, collecting and protecting his families inheritance, and eventually healing his fathers blindness after sparrows have pooped in his eyes.

The music is vibrant and, for the most part, incredibly approachable and evocatively joyous moving from a hint of Bartok in the begging to an infectious mix of bright choral music, Jewish fold melodies, religious themes and a bit of Fiddler on the Roof thrown in for good measure. There are enchanting choruses of singing trees and mountains, the waves of the Tigris river, and wonderful effects such as the morning wake-up chorus of sparrows, sung by children, the sonority of the organ-reinforced aria sung by the demon, and Tobias's increasing frustration as he moves from the dismissive "I think I hear nothing" to his increasing frustrations at being unable to grasp the lessons "I hear NOTHING".

I find this opera really charming and I am happy to have discovered it.

February 11, 2011
Two Films

I've been somewhat stressed this week. No particular reason, just a general uneasiness compounded by feeling mildly under the weather and various small interruption in the routines and plans; it is probably as much me and whatever is going on in my head as it is caused by any external forces or events. But still it is there. I go through fits of frenzied activity, hauling things here and there and as a result I feel like big changes are in the wind, until I look at my lists and realize that nothing of any significance has really been accomplished despite all the energy expended. Then I kind of slump into a period of rest waiting for the next big flurry of activity.

In one of these early restful periods I curled up on the sofa with G and watched the oneiric film Inception which was fascinating and intelligent. I suspect I don't know enough about psychology to really "get" everything I should about this film but it was still a rather compelling psychological romp with a rather unethical leading man who can't keep his own issues, his own shadow projections, out of his work and imposes them on others on or with whom he is supposed to be working. It wasn't until the very end that I realized that the whole thing might possibly be a dream, a dream of a dream, levels of the psyche and the soul trying to get to the root problem. Perhaps I am seeing more than was there.

What particularly struck me was the obsessiveness of the score which moved between mild distraction yet with a small undertow of unease to fear and dread, building tension and creating a sound that would leave this viewer feeling just like she had woken from her own nightmare drenched in sweat. Particularly memorable was Edith Piaf singing "Je ne regret rien", the pivotal queueing moment, made all the memorable by its repetition and augmentation and the fact that this was a movie revolving around regret.

Another movie I could watch again was Inch'Allah Dimanche, and incredibly powerful and raw film about an immigrant woman and her family trying to adjust to a new world with different expectations while still struggling against traditions and loss of the familiar. Very moving. Patchy at times. It did not always flow, well, as if it is told from memory, from having lived it but not yet understood what was happening. There were times when characters would start to behave one way, and then turn about and behave in the opposite way. I think this is also reflective of the struggle. The ending seemed out of context, perhaps too sudden of a change of heart on the part of the husband, although he too had been conflicted throughout the film, acting in violently opposing ways, as if trying to find a path between new old, expectation, responsibility, desire and fear. The ending sequence has a magical feel too it, and I suppose I feel it is somewhat allegorical and open to interpretation and introspection. A heart-wrenching and thought-provoking film.

February 10, 2011
Safe Haven

Things are coming together, one small island of tranquility at a time.

February 9, 2011
One book (among many waiting to be read)

Reading this week was lighthearted. I got started on a book, misplaced it, picked up another, and as I sorted through the piles of book on the living room floor, kept coming across book after book that I had meant to read by never gotten to. It was time to stop and read something now rather than just continuing to pile things up for the future.

I stared with The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver and found it surprisingly enjoyable. It was surprising because the only other novel by the author I have read was The Poisonwood Bible, and although that book has stayed with me and had a great affect on me, I did not find it particularly enjoyable. Maddening yes. Enlightening yes. Poignant yes. Enjoyable, most definitely not.

But back to The Bean Trees. Kingsolver has a remarkably astute way of capturing an image or dialog or a moment of drama, making it poignantly real, and even though there are many events and many characters in this book, and even though some of them are not developed beyond being symbolic "types", she manages to weave all the threads and all the bits and pieces into a harmonious whole where every detail fits. She writes a novel with a poet's sensitivity to language and to structure and that is not an easy task for either a poet or a novelist.

That said, I thought the beginning was stronger than the ending. The narrator, Taylor Greer, is a dynamic and vividly drawn character who draws the reader in. But then as the plot becomes more complex and more things happen to Taylor, she seems to become more vague, too much of a symbol of what the author wants to portray and less of a person in her own right. Despite this, I remained vested in the plot, probably because the plot became stronger even as Taylor's individuality seemed to fade. I worried about Turtle, the little girl who eventually became Taylor's own, and I followed Taylor as she grew up and accepted the one thing she never wanted (a child) and went from being a smart, engaging young adult, to a resourceful, caring woman. But I no longer cared as deeply as I might have and although the book remained enjoyable, it fell short of being enlightening or moving.

To reiterate, we start the novel with a strong engaging female lead, and we lose her somewhere along the path, even though the novel is very much about her growth into adulthood. Taylor Greer seems to become just another symbol who reacts to situations as needed to fit the author's goals, but there is no longer any sense of Taylor as a person making these choices, something that is mourned simply because Taylor started out so very very real. This is one of the problems I had with The Poisonwood Bible as well, that too many of the characters were unrealized shadows that were drawn with large brush-strokes dipped far too heavily in the ink of stereotype. In that later novel, however, Kingsolver does manage to maintain the richness of her portrayal of the characters that seem dearest to her heart. In this early novel, she seems to lose the person in the pursuit of the idea.

The ideas set forth in this book are good ideas. Even as Taylor fades, the plot seems to become stronger and clearer although perhaps a little too certain. In this world, terrible realities do surface, but then they fade back below the surface if they cannot be handily resolved, a kind of selective awareness that all humans actually must practice in order to survive, but in this book, perhaps the answers seem to pat, too simple, achieved to easily to be quite real.

Still it was a good novel and better than most with excellent writing and several interesting subplots revolving around language: how language defines identity and the various ways it affects political and sociological reality, and most importantly how the child, Turtle, picks up the mantle of language, beginning with the naming of things, particularly vegetables, and yes, beans, and how these words paint a portrait of Turtle's past and future. Very interesting.

February 8, 2011
Mulberries in the Snow

My senior year in college, probably like most colleges, I had to have submit a photograph for the yearbook. I asked a friend, who was a very good photographer, to take the pictures for me. She told me to wear my favorite garment as long as it wasn't purple. She told me it was very hard to photograph purple well. There was something about the way purples absorbed and reflected light, although I don't really remember the details. (photographers may please chime in here).

Unfortunately my favorite colors seem to all be shades of purple and this conversation keeps echoing through my mind as I keep trying to photograph purple garments and rarely capturing the color in its true glory. Of course, I am also a very unskilled photographer so perhaps this too will improve with practice.

Project: Mulberries in the Snow

Pattern: Drops sleeveless dress 108-7, a free download from the Drops website.

Yarn: Misti Alpaca Chunky knitted tighter than its recommended gauge at 15 stitches and 19 rows per 4 inches.

Changes made to the pattern: I added a bust dart to accommodate my DD chest and I lengthened the torso by 1 inch. The length was added in the ribbed section at the waist, which is supposed to extend down onto the hips, as it clearly does here.

Things I would do differently were I to make this dress again: I am basically very happy with this dress. However, the pattern illustration shows the area above the ribbing ending just below the bustline. I knitted this to exactly the length specified in the pattern above the ribbing but before beginning the armhole shaping (6 inches) and although it looks okay, I think it would look much better if I had shortened this area to 4 inches, or perhaps even less, so that the ribbing came up higher on the ribcage as shown here in this photo from Drops.

More photos are available over at my flickr page or on Ravelry. They were not, however, taken before I managed to weave in those few annoying yarn ends that seem to have shown up in all my photos.

February 7, 2011
Statement Rings

I've been looking at Wendy Brandes' Swear Rings for some time but never really managed to actually buy them. I figured they were too trendy, too young, and I was counting my pennies for some more serious jewelry.

But I am not really a serious jewelry person, or at least I am not really a person who wears jewelry seriously. Really, life is too short not to have some fun. So this week I finally broke down and ordered them.

When I picked up the mail yesterday I was excited to see the box from Wendy and I practically ripped it open as I walked to my car. I did wait until I got in the car to actually open it as there was enough slush and piles of snow and ice to negotiate without crawling around looking for lost jewelry, but as soon as the box was open, these rings were on my hand.

Sometimes I gal's just gotta make a statement. What surprised me is how happy the rings make me, just wearing them brings a bit of a smile to face.

Since you can't really see them well in the first photo, G managed to snap another picture as I was heading out the door to knitting. I think they go particularly well with pearls.

February 4, 2011