Sitting here at home drinking tea from my new red mug and listening to classical music on the radio with a rain patter outside. I can feel that holiday magic-feeling. I am v. pleased and also excited to be going home tomorrow morning. Seeing family, whatnot.
And then bluegrass band practice starts Sunday. (!)
The only thing I need now to take this up a notch is a functional oven to bake Swedish coffee cake in. I can't have a proper holiday without it.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Meant to be
My manager mentioned yesterday that I may as well work from home today, but I needed to collect Emilio, my first-rate work companion and pet goldfish, so that he wouldn't starve over Thanksgiving of all holidays.
So I take the shuttle in to work, print out my boarding pass for tomorrow, do a bitty bit of work and then catch the 11:30 shuttle back to San Francisco.
I'm not very good at shopping unless I know what I'm looking for, but there were these plates at Anthropologie that I've been eyeing and and lusting after. So, having noticed that Urban Outfitters was doing a free shipping promo for the holidays, naturally I went to check the Anthropologie website, but they're only doing free shipping on orders over $200. Not helpful, but the more alarming thing was that the plates I've been dreaming about were nowhere to be found.
And then there I was in San Francisco in the middle of the day, during prime shopping hours. Emilio and I walked along the Embarcadero and down Market until we found ourselves in front of Anthropologie. And then we were standing in front of huge stacks of the most beautiful beautiful plates, but not only that! They were on sale! 66% off!! Only $3.95! It was a sign! When fate makes its intentions known, you simply can't disobey, so six green flowery plates and a lovely red mug came home with me. Emilio and I are highly pleased. I should take him shopping with me more often.
And, now that I am fully stocked with plates, you'll need to come over for dinner.
So I take the shuttle in to work, print out my boarding pass for tomorrow, do a bitty bit of work and then catch the 11:30 shuttle back to San Francisco.
I'm not very good at shopping unless I know what I'm looking for, but there were these plates at Anthropologie that I've been eyeing and and lusting after. So, having noticed that Urban Outfitters was doing a free shipping promo for the holidays, naturally I went to check the Anthropologie website, but they're only doing free shipping on orders over $200. Not helpful, but the more alarming thing was that the plates I've been dreaming about were nowhere to be found.
And then there I was in San Francisco in the middle of the day, during prime shopping hours. Emilio and I walked along the Embarcadero and down Market until we found ourselves in front of Anthropologie. And then we were standing in front of huge stacks of the most beautiful beautiful plates, but not only that! They were on sale! 66% off!! Only $3.95! It was a sign! When fate makes its intentions known, you simply can't disobey, so six green flowery plates and a lovely red mug came home with me. Emilio and I are highly pleased. I should take him shopping with me more often.
And, now that I am fully stocked with plates, you'll need to come over for dinner.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Making lemonade
Thanks to major accidents on just about every freeway in the Bay Area, it took over two hours to get home Friday night. By the time I got home, it was too late to get the flour and milk I needed for the Swedish coffee cake, so I watched King Arthur (the dvd my coworker lent me, which was Not Too Bad) and worked on this quilt. Saturday I got up early to hit up the bike shop since my rear bike light is m.i.a., the farmer's market and Berkeley Bowl to collect ingredients for the Swedish coffee cake and apple bread (since the coffee cake, which is kind of like a Swedish version of cardomom flavored challah, wouldn't be done in time for Erin's birthday picnic that afternoon).
So I bike home, whip up the apple bread batter, stick it in the oven, hop in the shower and get my stuff ready to head to the picnic only to discover that after 60 minutes, my oven was only luke warm and the apple bread was still just batter. Sigh.
I wrapped up the fancy chocolate I'd gotten to go with the bread in tissue paper and yarn and headed out.
Settling in later for a night of quilting, one of course wants to eat nothing but baked goods because one's oven is out of commission. I tried just skipping dinner since I was still full of chocolate cake, but half way through Wicker Man I got peckish, so I raided the fridge for veggie scramble ingredients and put a little of this and a little of that in a mixing bowl determined to make some kind of savory griddle scones to go with the eggs + vegetables.
Molly called to offer her oven as it turned out she wasn't going to the city after all, so I biked over with two loaf tins of apple bread dough and four dvds. Broken English was a little less cutesy romantic than we were hoping, so we finished Wicker Man instead. Very strange movie, that. It wasn't as girly a night as I might have hoped, but we had fresh apple bread and lemon verbena tea. And let me tell you, Molly's fancy convection oven is an absolute dream.
This morning I found a message on my phone from my manager suggesting I call PG&E about the oven, but as soon as the PG&E man said the technician would be over asap, I came down with the most awful cabin fever. The injustice of being trapped inside indefinitely on what may very well be the last beautiful day of the season! It is the end of November, but I'm in my lightest skirt and a sleeveless shirt and not cold in the slightest.
So I inspected the fire escape, found it to be very safe-looking and brought a chair, my quilting supplies, and some new episodes of RadioLab out on my ipod and sewed in the sun watching for the PG&E truck.
PG&E showed up after 45 minutes / an hour maybe. Bless them. And now I'm free as a bird just in time for Steven to show up to play music. Still oven-less, but I can live with that.
Take that, winter and loneliness.
So I bike home, whip up the apple bread batter, stick it in the oven, hop in the shower and get my stuff ready to head to the picnic only to discover that after 60 minutes, my oven was only luke warm and the apple bread was still just batter. Sigh.
I wrapped up the fancy chocolate I'd gotten to go with the bread in tissue paper and yarn and headed out.
Settling in later for a night of quilting, one of course wants to eat nothing but baked goods because one's oven is out of commission. I tried just skipping dinner since I was still full of chocolate cake, but half way through Wicker Man I got peckish, so I raided the fridge for veggie scramble ingredients and put a little of this and a little of that in a mixing bowl determined to make some kind of savory griddle scones to go with the eggs + vegetables.
Molly called to offer her oven as it turned out she wasn't going to the city after all, so I biked over with two loaf tins of apple bread dough and four dvds. Broken English was a little less cutesy romantic than we were hoping, so we finished Wicker Man instead. Very strange movie, that. It wasn't as girly a night as I might have hoped, but we had fresh apple bread and lemon verbena tea. And let me tell you, Molly's fancy convection oven is an absolute dream.
This morning I found a message on my phone from my manager suggesting I call PG&E about the oven, but as soon as the PG&E man said the technician would be over asap, I came down with the most awful cabin fever. The injustice of being trapped inside indefinitely on what may very well be the last beautiful day of the season! It is the end of November, but I'm in my lightest skirt and a sleeveless shirt and not cold in the slightest.
So I inspected the fire escape, found it to be very safe-looking and brought a chair, my quilting supplies, and some new episodes of RadioLab out on my ipod and sewed in the sun watching for the PG&E truck.
PG&E showed up after 45 minutes / an hour maybe. Bless them. And now I'm free as a bird just in time for Steven to show up to play music. Still oven-less, but I can live with that.
Take that, winter and loneliness.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Postcards from abroad, episode 6: The faintest hint of Santa Fe
The late autumn sun shines harsh over Santa Fe in late autumn. Such that buying a cowboy hat or wide brim fedora seems the most natural thing to do. You would blend right in here. Even men selling Virgin Mary shaped beeswax candles at the farmer's market were in collared shirts and cowboy boots with long hair and a respectable mustache.
I am in awe of a city brimming with shops selling the western wear a Californian has only ever heard about. My fashion dream come true. I would tell you that I saw a grown man in a fluffy sheepskin vest and thick leather belt with a big buckle, cowboy hat, boots, jeans, skinny tie. Except that passing him on the street it seemed I was the one dressed oddly. This was a city of cowboys and indians clipping through town in boots, selling the turquoise jewelry made by their own hands as they tell you about the land, this place.
I'm not sure I've ever seen so much art, so much incredible art, squeezed into one small spot. I had to take tea in the cafe near the train station just to let it sink in. The farmer's market - the German man selling some of the best bread I've ever tasted (which was still the best when I finished the last bit of whole wheat ciabatta with dinner today) or the woman walking home with a white cockatoo in a red, wool lined jacket on her arm. Everyone seemed to know each other or be somehow connected, the twelve year old working the register or the doctor with the baby she adopted from a homeless mother. Anywhere else I might have felt outside of it all, but that morning it was as if I was wrapped up in it, part of it.
People smile. Fit you with cowboy boots. Brush your hair to the side as they set another hat on your head, explaining how they might build a hat just for you, if you wanted. They honestly want to know where you're from - they don't just ask.
Finishing my tea, I thought I could live there. I would buy boots and a hat and learn to bake bread, to make something of myself. I'm still a bit lovesick for the place. If only it weren't for the lack of water, I might never have come back.
Friday, November 21, 2008
In defense of Norman Rockwell
The people demand reading material, so they shall have the treatise on Norman Rockwell I have been meaning to finish:
New Kids in the Neighborhood, 1967.
Firstly, I love Norman Rockwell.
When I was a kid, I used to go into Barnes and Noble and attempt to explain to my parents that it was imperative that whatever mammoth-sized tome of Norman Rockwell paintings was laying about absolutely had to come home with me. And they weren't hard to find. I haven't flipped through those books in a while, but I still consider myself a fan. So when it was mentioned to me recently that Norman Rockwell has gotten something of a bad wrap for for painting what is considered trite Americana, my emotions were aroused.
Oh, the injustice of success! To cast aside these aspersions against the innocent, I shall attempt to revisit some of the things that drew me to N. Rock. in the first place and why he continues to kick butt.
Exhibit A. Faces
My ten-year self was v. impressed with the way Norman Rockwell could paint people. I had the darndest time making the people in my youthful drawings look different. It's like - all/most people have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, etc. and in your head, you know what an eye looks like, so you draw two of those, and you know more or less what a mouth looks like so you stick one of those on around where it should be. And no one can draw noses, so you do your best there and then oh look. All these people could be clones.
But Norman Rockwell, artiste extraordinaire, did not have this problem! Ok, so there is a Norman Rockwell face. You can picture it in your head with the expressive hopeful eyes and thin nose and ruddy cheeks, but you can tell the people in his paintings apart - especially in his later paintings. The awe this inspired in my ten year old self has not yet worn off.
For example:
Gossip .
Yes, they are wasp-y, but look how expressive they are too. The man obviously has technical skill.
Exhibit B. Details, details, details
There's never a boring part of a Norman Rockwell painting. Something is always happening in every corner.
Take this, for instance:
Saturday Evening Post cover illustration, 1960
It's not just about a sailor hitting on a cute blonde. He's got all the old men coming over to the window to watch and the emotional lives of all the people crossing the street. Incidentally, this is one of the few paintings with a little self-portrait of the man himself.
So maybe if he'd zoomed in on the little romantic scene, you'd look at this picture and think, "yeah, yeah sailors hit on anything with legs (or so I've heard)," but now you've got the pedestrians thinking that already for you. And the guys up in the office thinking damn I remember when I could hit on hotties - too bad I'm old now. And one of them has a slingshot?! What's'a matter? Jealous? And just looking at it tells you New York - the little bit of taxi, the throng of pedestrians finally getting to cross the street, and, if you still weren't sure, the street signs.
And all of that is where you get Americana. He makes it not just about the individual, but about our relationships and how we're connected, and I think that connection is why his paintings have that feel-good aspect to them. He painted an America that was about community, rather than just that rugged individualism we go on about.
Exhibit C. The Moment
Henri Cartier-Bresson writes about the decisive moment in photography where you manage to capture in one split second a moment that speaks to an entire story, like that guy about to make a splash of a calm puddle. Painting, though, has the luxury of arranging itself just so to collect just the right images to define a feeling or capture a moment. There's a lot of symbolic painting, obviously, that really goes to town with that - take all of surrealism, for example.
Norman Rockwell, though, has this amazing ability to recognize important moments in people's lives and then translate that into an almost (but not quite) photo-realistic painting that captures all of it and makes it seem familiar.
For example:
Girl at Mirror, 1954.
Now, some people want to say that Norman Rockwell is cheesy and trite. I take issue with that. These iconic images only seem old hat now because Norman Rockwell got them so right the first time. He got it. And he put it onto canvas. And when those images were plastered the country over on the front of the Saturday Evening Post, he defined America.
I don't want to point any fingers, but, if you need to be reminded, this is more like trite:
Not Norman Rockwell.
Firstly, I love Norman Rockwell.
When I was a kid, I used to go into Barnes and Noble and attempt to explain to my parents that it was imperative that whatever mammoth-sized tome of Norman Rockwell paintings was laying about absolutely had to come home with me. And they weren't hard to find. I haven't flipped through those books in a while, but I still consider myself a fan. So when it was mentioned to me recently that Norman Rockwell has gotten something of a bad wrap for for painting what is considered trite Americana, my emotions were aroused.
Oh, the injustice of success! To cast aside these aspersions against the innocent, I shall attempt to revisit some of the things that drew me to N. Rock. in the first place and why he continues to kick butt.
Exhibit A. Faces
My ten-year self was v. impressed with the way Norman Rockwell could paint people. I had the darndest time making the people in my youthful drawings look different. It's like - all/most people have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, etc. and in your head, you know what an eye looks like, so you draw two of those, and you know more or less what a mouth looks like so you stick one of those on around where it should be. And no one can draw noses, so you do your best there and then oh look. All these people could be clones.
But Norman Rockwell, artiste extraordinaire, did not have this problem! Ok, so there is a Norman Rockwell face. You can picture it in your head with the expressive hopeful eyes and thin nose and ruddy cheeks, but you can tell the people in his paintings apart - especially in his later paintings. The awe this inspired in my ten year old self has not yet worn off.
For example:
Yes, they are wasp-y, but look how expressive they are too. The man obviously has technical skill.
Exhibit B. Details, details, details
There's never a boring part of a Norman Rockwell painting. Something is always happening in every corner.
Take this, for instance:
It's not just about a sailor hitting on a cute blonde. He's got all the old men coming over to the window to watch and the emotional lives of all the people crossing the street. Incidentally, this is one of the few paintings with a little self-portrait of the man himself.
So maybe if he'd zoomed in on the little romantic scene, you'd look at this picture and think, "yeah, yeah sailors hit on anything with legs (or so I've heard)," but now you've got the pedestrians thinking that already for you. And the guys up in the office thinking damn I remember when I could hit on hotties - too bad I'm old now. And one of them has a slingshot?! What's'a matter? Jealous? And just looking at it tells you New York - the little bit of taxi, the throng of pedestrians finally getting to cross the street, and, if you still weren't sure, the street signs.
And all of that is where you get Americana. He makes it not just about the individual, but about our relationships and how we're connected, and I think that connection is why his paintings have that feel-good aspect to them. He painted an America that was about community, rather than just that rugged individualism we go on about.
Exhibit C. The Moment
Henri Cartier-Bresson writes about the decisive moment in photography where you manage to capture in one split second a moment that speaks to an entire story, like that guy about to make a splash of a calm puddle. Painting, though, has the luxury of arranging itself just so to collect just the right images to define a feeling or capture a moment. There's a lot of symbolic painting, obviously, that really goes to town with that - take all of surrealism, for example.
Norman Rockwell, though, has this amazing ability to recognize important moments in people's lives and then translate that into an almost (but not quite) photo-realistic painting that captures all of it and makes it seem familiar.
For example:
Now, some people want to say that Norman Rockwell is cheesy and trite. I take issue with that. These iconic images only seem old hat now because Norman Rockwell got them so right the first time. He got it. And he put it onto canvas. And when those images were plastered the country over on the front of the Saturday Evening Post, he defined America.
I don't want to point any fingers, but, if you need to be reminded, this is more like trite:
Not Norman Rockwell.
So, finally
Really I have been meaning to write more. I've thought of things as I'm running about that would be nice to put in blog-form, but I've been busy with the usual. Trying not to look incompetent in banjo lessons, doing my darndest to finish this quilt for my friend's baby by Thanksgiving [photos to come soon], being utterly engrossed in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle on the shuttle (which I finished this morning!), aaaand yes working late.
Sigh.
But! I have been promoted! and raised! and bonused! So, life is not all bad. Although you wonder what the point is really. Except that I have trouble not trying when I know how to do better. The phrase "'strongest contributor on the team" came up during my review. I really did like my old manager. She was awesome and I was reminded during my review why/how I was maybe inclined to work so hard. It did give me pause, though. Shocking though this may sound, there are other people on the team who are (or so they claim) actually interested in the "online/ecommerce space." How can it be that I'm wowing people's socks off. Sounds like I haven't got my priorities straight.
Regardless of everything else, I am rid of filling out a time sheet for what I hope is a long long long long time. And that is a good feeling. That's all I wanted really, but don't tell HR. I'll take my raise too, thanks.
Anyway, it has been such a contrast getting lost in Barbara Kingsolver gushing about her year of eating local, growing almost all her own food, and even raising her own poultry while doing my best to put the old nose closeish to the grindstone for a few hours in between.
I'll be the first to admit I haven't worked as hard the past couple of months. Working thirteen hours a day is just not something you can do for an extended period of time. Case in point: I have been sick since September. Talk about lame.
I think I've always had a lot of drive, but never much direction. Lately though, in a quiet moment I'm starting to get a vision in my head of what I might want parts of the future to look like. What's really important and what I might be able to give up. The funny thing is, it looks a lot like the naive picture of my adult life I had when I was eightish. Except that I wouldn't be wearing the tiered denim skirt... I love that image so much that I'm afraid to describe it out loud.
In any case, there is hope yet. There is now official written record of my being good at tackling nebulous projects and getting them done.
Sigh.
But! I have been promoted! and raised! and bonused! So, life is not all bad. Although you wonder what the point is really. Except that I have trouble not trying when I know how to do better. The phrase "'strongest contributor on the team" came up during my review. I really did like my old manager. She was awesome and I was reminded during my review why/how I was maybe inclined to work so hard. It did give me pause, though. Shocking though this may sound, there are other people on the team who are (or so they claim) actually interested in the "online/ecommerce space." How can it be that I'm wowing people's socks off. Sounds like I haven't got my priorities straight.
Regardless of everything else, I am rid of filling out a time sheet for what I hope is a long long long long time. And that is a good feeling. That's all I wanted really, but don't tell HR. I'll take my raise too, thanks.
Anyway, it has been such a contrast getting lost in Barbara Kingsolver gushing about her year of eating local, growing almost all her own food, and even raising her own poultry while doing my best to put the old nose closeish to the grindstone for a few hours in between.
I'll be the first to admit I haven't worked as hard the past couple of months. Working thirteen hours a day is just not something you can do for an extended period of time. Case in point: I have been sick since September. Talk about lame.
I think I've always had a lot of drive, but never much direction. Lately though, in a quiet moment I'm starting to get a vision in my head of what I might want parts of the future to look like. What's really important and what I might be able to give up. The funny thing is, it looks a lot like the naive picture of my adult life I had when I was eightish. Except that I wouldn't be wearing the tiered denim skirt... I love that image so much that I'm afraid to describe it out loud.
In any case, there is hope yet. There is now official written record of my being good at tackling nebulous projects and getting them done.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Santa Fe fashion corner
Look what I found today.
I was wandering around trying on cowboy boots (Lucchese boots really are as comfortable as they say... sigh) and having my hat size measured by a J.D. Noble, milliner (if you can call someone who makes cowboy hats and wide brim fedoras a milliner) and then I wander into the shop next door and they had all this fabulous jewelry and other hats and clothes and the downstairs reminded me of this dream I had a while back.
Hiding in the sale rack, I found this beauty, and the thing fits me like someone made it especially for me, which never happens and is rad. So, the woman and I decided it was just meant to be. A total steal for $25 anyway. And I think it will do well as a band costume. So, yay.
New Mexico sends its love!
I was wandering around trying on cowboy boots (Lucchese boots really are as comfortable as they say... sigh) and having my hat size measured by a J.D. Noble, milliner (if you can call someone who makes cowboy hats and wide brim fedoras a milliner) and then I wander into the shop next door and they had all this fabulous jewelry and other hats and clothes and the downstairs reminded me of this dream I had a while back.
Hiding in the sale rack, I found this beauty, and the thing fits me like someone made it especially for me, which never happens and is rad. So, the woman and I decided it was just meant to be. A total steal for $25 anyway. And I think it will do well as a band costume. So, yay.
New Mexico sends its love!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Yes we can
There was honking and shouting, singing and dancing in the streets, and all this raw hopeful energy pulsing through. Obama is president elect. Obama is president elect. Yes we can! Obama! It hasn't quite sunk in yet. I'm still kind of love-drunk, but I feel hopeful for the future.
I feel hopeful even though bans on gay marriage were passed in Arizona and Florida, and, by all appearances, California. You'd have thought that if it could fail one place, it'd have been here. At least out of these three. They say not all the ballots have been counted yet in some of the coastal counties, where opposition was stronger, but things are looking bleak.
So, are we willing to accept this as the cost of an Obama presidency? I'd say yes and no. A woman on my shuttle who's very active in the gay community said she was feeling pretty awful last night and only slightly less so on considering that if she had to pick one or the other - Obama or no on 8 - she'd probably have had it this way. I said yesterday on more than one occasion that with the record turnout we saw this election, I'd have to respect whatever happened as the will of the people. Don't get me wrong, I feel strongly that a constitutional amendment denying rights to some citizens should never been on the ballot in the first place. Such things should absolutely not be possible or even legal, but this is the system we have and these are the cards we have been dealt.
On the brighter side, propositions for abortion limits appear to have been defeated in both California and South Dakota, which suggests to me that what we need is a more open debate on the gay marriage issue. I don't know that this issue is really up for debate for people in either camp, but with so many people feeling so strongly, repealing this now is going to take a much more focused and involved effort. We will need to get to know these people, the yes voters. We will need to have a real dialogue to find common ground rather than isolating ourselves further. If there is a distinction to be made between civil rights and religious ceremony, let's make it. Let's at least make that. If gay marriage isn't about civil rights, let's pass legislation that guarantees equal rights to all.
It's not the same thing, I know that, civil unions and marriages, but I feel hopeful. Things are not in the position they were this time yesterday, but I feel hopeful. If we need a 2/3rds majority, let's do it. If we can elect a black man to the presidency of a country where slavery was legal 200 years ago, where blacks were only 3/5ths of a person and couldn't even vote, we can do this. Yes, we can.
I feel hopeful even though bans on gay marriage were passed in Arizona and Florida, and, by all appearances, California. You'd have thought that if it could fail one place, it'd have been here. At least out of these three. They say not all the ballots have been counted yet in some of the coastal counties, where opposition was stronger, but things are looking bleak.
So, are we willing to accept this as the cost of an Obama presidency? I'd say yes and no. A woman on my shuttle who's very active in the gay community said she was feeling pretty awful last night and only slightly less so on considering that if she had to pick one or the other - Obama or no on 8 - she'd probably have had it this way. I said yesterday on more than one occasion that with the record turnout we saw this election, I'd have to respect whatever happened as the will of the people. Don't get me wrong, I feel strongly that a constitutional amendment denying rights to some citizens should never been on the ballot in the first place. Such things should absolutely not be possible or even legal, but this is the system we have and these are the cards we have been dealt.
On the brighter side, propositions for abortion limits appear to have been defeated in both California and South Dakota, which suggests to me that what we need is a more open debate on the gay marriage issue. I don't know that this issue is really up for debate for people in either camp, but with so many people feeling so strongly, repealing this now is going to take a much more focused and involved effort. We will need to get to know these people, the yes voters. We will need to have a real dialogue to find common ground rather than isolating ourselves further. If there is a distinction to be made between civil rights and religious ceremony, let's make it. Let's at least make that. If gay marriage isn't about civil rights, let's pass legislation that guarantees equal rights to all.
It's not the same thing, I know that, civil unions and marriages, but I feel hopeful. Things are not in the position they were this time yesterday, but I feel hopeful. If we need a 2/3rds majority, let's do it. If we can elect a black man to the presidency of a country where slavery was legal 200 years ago, where blacks were only 3/5ths of a person and couldn't even vote, we can do this. Yes, we can.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Holding my breath
Before polls start closing and numbers start coming in, I just want to capture this feeling of nervousness and anticipation. You can just feel how big and important it all is. We're voting not just for president, but we're standing up in California for gay rights, for animal rights, for an amazing new high speed rail, for the environment, for the future of our courts, for reproductive rights.
Whatever happens, I think what I know today is that I need to get out and make a difference. I need to step up from this desk and put my energies where my heart is.
Life is too short to sit by and watch.
Whatever happens, I think what I know today is that I need to get out and make a difference. I need to step up from this desk and put my energies where my heart is.
Life is too short to sit by and watch.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Robert Levon Been of BRMC on what it is about music
I think one of the reasons we still love music but don’t admit to is it’s the last form of magic left on this earth. I mean, in that no one can fully understand or explain why or where it comes from and that’s why it’s kind of a beautiful thing.
**See here.
**See here.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Were you aware of it? vol. 11: The salt in salt water
A few hundred million years ago, the waters of the ocean were still fresh enough to drink. It is the earth that contains the mineral salts one tastes in sea water. The salts are in all runoff, leached out of rock and soil. The runoff concentrates in rivers, which end up in the oceans -- or, as in the case of Mono and Great Salt Lake, in a closed-basin sumps up to seven times saltier than the sea. Once in the ocean, the salts have no place to go; the seas are stuck with them. When the water is evaporated, the salts remain behind; when the water falls as rain and becomes runoff again, a fresh batch of salts washes in.
~ Marc Reisner, Cadillac Desert, p. 455
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