Somewhere in my parents’ photo albums there is a picture of me and my brother. I am probably about seven, and he’s about two. We’re sitting in the back seat of our Chevy Caprice, and his lips are speckled here and there with rice. We’re eating dough-covered rice bundles, and we haven’t even really left our driveway.
I remember this moment very well, because just before the photo was taken, my sibling rivalry took over and I thought it’d be cute if I, too, mashed my lips into my doughy treat and got rice all over myself, even if I knew perfectly well how to execute a non-messy bite.
It must have worked, because my parents snapped the photo, me looking smug, and my brother looking guilelessly adorable.
But I digress. We were in the car because my parents were about to drive us to Niagara Falls. My mom says I had been before, but I am pretty sure I don’t remember. (She says I was four at the time, so that would have been before my brother was born.)
Anyway, we pretty much got to the border before my parents realized that they’d left our passports at home. So we didn’t get to go. Later, as I would read more and more about Niagara Falls, and about the two towns that straddle it, and about the broken-down state of the town on the American side of the border. (I am a sucker for towns that look like they have been through Hell.) Also, Buffalo NY is on the way, and I have always wanted to see Buffalo for its architecture and its history (c.f. “towns that have been through Hell.”)
- credit ancestry.com
Seven or eight years ago, we got to Rochester and thought about extending our trip to go to Niagara, but we scrapped those plans at the last minute.
GUESS WHAT? In just two short weeks I will be on my way to Niagara Falls. I had a birthday last week, and Jim decided we were going to Niagara Falls.
But first he made me work to figure out the answer to What My Present Is. [Hello? Does anyone else out there think it's unfair to make someone WORK for their prezzie?]
He leaked clues all throughout the day. Here they are, in order. The first person who can give me the correct answers to why they relate to Niagara Falls wins a bag of candy. (Tell me in the comments. Or you can wait and I will post the answers in a few days.)
1. 64,750
2. 100 and 73
3. 4.4
4. hratt vatn
5. Embassy Suites
6. Felis Catus
7. Anne Edson Taylor
8. Cooper
9. Ongniaahra
10. We will be gone for 4-5 days
Ready? Set? GO!
Category Life |
So you know when your brain goes on overload, and you realize that you’d better download the stuff before your hard drive breaks and you lose all the stuff? That’s where I am now. I’ve been out in the big city twice in as many days, and although I’m most certainly not always at my best in the city, I am almost always awake and alert (“What’s a lert?”) and, perhaps worst of all, wide open to all the sights and sounds and input, and that’s, I think, why I’m overloaded.
Then, too, it’s a quarter to five in the morning, it’s raining, the porch door is open, the temperature is in the sixties…these are all things that make me percolate, which is good, because I have an essay due every fricken week for non-fiction class, and I’d better have stuff percolating.
Okay. First of all, here are some photos from my time in Seattle and Whidbey.
I got to see Hollie Butler for the first time in almost 15 years. Who is she? She is my friend from the one summer I spent as a camp counselor in Oregon. It was the first time I was ever able to say I had an amazing summer, and mean it. Sorry, Mom and Dad, but I learned so much that summer and experienced so many different things…some day I will write about that.
Hollie and I wrote letters back and forth for a little while. I think I may have gone to see her in Seattle when I went skiing at Whistler the following year, but I haven’t seen her since then, and that would have been 1994. Wow. (Some days, I really love Facebook for reconnecting me with people like Hollie.)
On the way there I saw these buildings, which I loved for their color and their lines. I guess they go into the “I took pictures of this cos I want to draw it later” category.
I also got to see another old friend, from my advertising days. I think she might be one of my favorite people, in part because she and her husband are wise without being old. I love this about them. When Ina and I worked together, I learned so much from her. Ina has this view from her home office window. It also goes into the aforementioned category.
Here are some snaps from Whidbey Island itself.
These are my friends Robert and Cynthia. Cyn has been my roommate from the first semester on. We were all housemates this semester. Good fun!
Here’s another snap I’d like to try my hand at, except the colors are kind of intimidating.
Here’s one I did try my hand at, and that’s both material for another post and probably an essay on how taking drawing classes has made me a better writer.
Here’s Cyn, reading her work. We do student readings at Whidbey. That absolutely makes us better writers.
Here’s Grier’s dog, Popeye. People, do you understand how much of a difference having a dog around makes? A lot. (Also material for another essay.)
I’ll close with this freakishly Monet-like scene, which was what we saw ever day during our afternoon classes. This one I won’t be trying to draw. Frankly, Monet already did it.
Next post, a breakdown of the drawing lessons. Or maybe a rundown of these two days in the city, which have given me a lot to think about, all by themselves.
And oh, here’s a gratuitous Sprocket photo.
Do you think I can squeeze in a nap before the day begins? Or should I watch some more BBC mysteries on Netflix?
Tags: MFA, photos, Whidbey
Category Geekdom, Life, Things I Wrote, Things I'm Working On |
I’ve been taking a fair number of photos with my iPad, so I thought I would see if I can post some photos using the WordPress app.
I’ve read that it’s not very functional, but let’s see.
Can I post photos?
if this goes, it’s a photo of the Multikeo ferry line. 
Tags: blogging, iPad, photos
Category Geekdom, Life |
…Although, really, it’s been a month and a half.
This is the first time I’ve ever blogged from my iPad, although I’ve had one now since February. I think I imagined myself doing a lot more in terms of blogging while mobile, especially given all of the wonderful things I saw and experienced while I was on Whidbey Island for my MFA course.
I’m going to try and insert some photos here while I’m at it, although that may ultimately prove to be a failure. Here, let’s try one now.
Nope, that didn’t work. What a bummer.
These past ten days were incredibly hard. I had some very interesting experiences, although really what strikes me is how drained I feel. potentially it comes from having been “on” the entire time, but I’m more inclined to believe it’s because I met so many awesome people and made, I hope, so many new friends that I am just feeling totally overwhelmed.
Since I can’t post photos, I’ll try to be visually interesting in other ways.
First, a list, of the awesome people I met and got to know better.
1. Ana Maria Spagna
Ana Maria is my nonfiction workshop instructor. Her advice is incisive, but her reading and reactions are all human. More often than not, the incision and the human reaction are on the same page. working with Ana Maria will make my fiction better, but her workshop is also part of the reason I am so tired. I think it has been a long time since I’ve had to examine my motives so deeply.
2. Marc Acito
Marc was the graduation speaker this year. His commentary was a riot, and his advice was every bit worth writing down. He’s passionate about his work, and I very much enjoyed his company while at residency. With that said, he lives in New York City now, so I’m hoping to see much more of him when we both return.
3. Kate Gale
Kate is the managing editor of Red Hen press. I have deep respect for her, and for the fact that she and my friend Steve and I dove right into a dizzyingly deep conversation on fiction within about two minutes of her sitting down. She’ll be in New York soon too for some readings, and I’m planning on seeing her soon.
4. Nancy Norton
Part-time Seattle-ite, part-time resident of a tiny village in France. Enough said. No, not really. What if I told you that Nancy’s just barely in her 60s and still one of the feistiest people I know? What if I told you that I can’t wait to see her when she pops into New York in a couple of weeks? Fantastic!
5. Ashia Lane
Classmate and instant–and I do mean full-on immediate–friend. we can’t stop laughing when we’re around each other. We get each other, right from the moment we met last residency. And this residency, I got to take advantage of Ashia’s sharp reading skills when I banged out some seriously half-assed garbage the day before our student reading. And Ashia was able to Diagnose The Problem. And prescribe some fixes. Brilliant.
Okay. They’re calling my flight to board. and my foot is going numb. More tomorrow. With pictures. Yay!
Tags: Whidbey
Category art, Life |
Ooh, but it’s felt like a very long time since I’ve had time to sit about and do nothing. First there was a trip to DC to help move my brother and his wife into their lovely new home in Washington, DC. Then there was a week-long trip to Wisconsin and Chicago to see a friend get married and to visit with friends.
Then there was a friend moving back home–cause for great fanfare on that count–and then there was The Weekend, and now it is Monday again. I am too tired to do anything but photodump, so I’ll do that.
In related news, there were 479 photos on my Blackberry when I finally purged it this morning. I’ve noted it elsewhere, but I’ll say it again–when you’ve been staring at a photo on a very small screen for ages, it is somewhat of a shock to see it on big screen. The results can either be good, or shockingly bad, or just kind of annoying. (“I never noticed my lens was smudgy before!”)
Here are some photos from the trip. Our friend Kim got married in Wisconsin, and the reception was at the Harley Davidson museum. Peeps, if you’ve never been, go. It is truly an extraordinary archive of everything machine-related, and that includes marketing materials. For a word nerd like me, it was heaven. Here:
- Love this fantastic copy.
- And this great poster, a collaboration between Harley Davidson and the National Coalition for Safety, whatever that is.
- and this.
- The bridal party, from afar.
- Kim hired the Milwaukee Brewers racing sausages. There were 5, and they did the Conga line and the Chicken dance. Only in Milwaukee.
- Here's a photo of a 1936 Harley. Love the sweeping lines.
- Just look at the gorgeous marchinery that goes into a bike.
- This lovely sidecar is called a "chummy car." Wonderful.
- If I had a motorbike, I'd want this one. It was created in '74, the year I was born. Must be a sign.
I shall close with this photo. Kim had these little LED lights that substituted for candles. When I turned my back,…well, this is what happened.
I see a remarkable resemblance to these creatures: 
Hopefully the next time I post I’ll have less fuzzy photos and more interesting things to say. Sigh.
Tags: Harley Davidson Museum, Milwaukee, weddings
Category art, Life, The Weekend |
I like photography a lot. When I have a visual record of things, I feel much more complete. Because I’m a writer professionally, I sometimes feel confined to my chosen medium, so it’s nice to step out of it some days.
On my way home from a day in the city the other night, I snapped a few photos with my Blackberry that I think evoke a side of White Plains that most folks never see. At night, White Plains virtually shuts down. Except for the water fountain in front of the Starbucks and the traffic lights, there’s very little that’s moving.
Last Wednesday night it was misty and foggy and I was a little bit drunk, which added to the mysticism of the whole thing. Here’s what I saw.
Main Street, just after the train station.
The aforementioned water fountains, with police cars adding a little something.
The passage and street beneath the Galleria Mall.
The gaudiest storefront on the planet.
I always liked this logo and evocation of a favorite sammich.
Streetlights and trees.
A normally busy thoroughfare goes utterly abandoned at night.
Tags: happy, photos, white plains
Category art, Things I'm Working On |
Some day I’ll come back to this and try to suss out why it is that these particular quotes stuck with me. For now, these particular phrases pop in and out of my head with fairly dependable regularity.
- “Ain’t that a kick in the head?’ (Said after he’d lost a particularly bitter contention.)
- “I want us to be able to argue without fighting.”
- “I spotted something on your resume your parents wouldn’t be proud of: You’re ‘conversational’ in Taiwanese but ‘fluent’ in French?!”
- “I never thought we’d argue over money.”
- “It sounds like you’ve got some leftover stuff to iron out, too…I think this is the easiest breakup I’ve ever had.”
I guess we all carry pieces of other people around with us.
Category Life, Things I'm Working On |
It’s been six weeks since my last post. There’s nothing, really, to explain this. Since I last wrote, my semester has ended, the Arab spring is on the verge of becoming the Arab summer, we’ve had two American weather disasters, and we did our first triathlon of the season. I’ve also started reading and been unable to complete reading three novels, which might say a lot about both my attention span and my reading grade level, and I visited three whole new states.
1. Books I Have Loved
Well, books I have wanted to love, anyway.
- Middlesex: First few pages not enough to hold my attention.
- Moby-Dick: Started right before deployment to Arkansas. Rotten timing.
- The Palace Walk: A must-read for class in August. I like it so far, but there’s not a whole lot of action.
You know what’s really sad about this? I might have to come to grips with the fact that I’m more an action-flick kind of reader, if that makes any sense. I’ll tear through mystery novels, crime procedurals, “chick lit,” YA, no problem. But give me an award winner and I’m like a fish out of water. Ugh. This is bound to shape my writing.
2. My semester.
Difficult, at best. Worse, I’ve got a middle-grade novel I really like that I don’t want to lose momentum on, and while one of my professors has kindly offered to walk me through it once I have a completed draft, I’m terrified of the time commitment involved in that. Summer is so short, and my thesis advisor is asking us to write over the summer, as well. I need to learn to take advantage of this time.
With the semester’s end I experienced an uptick in the need to be creative. (Perhaps all that macrame finally got to me; I made almost 50 of these bracelets for ShelterBox this semester.) While that was temporarily curbed by my trip to Arkansas, I had the bug worse than ever on my return a week ago, which has encouraged me to sign up for an commit to private art lessons with the very talented Janice Cianflone. My hope is that it will help me to gain a new perspective on creativity, and allow me a new way to record the things I see and experience in my daily life.
I’ve tried more than once to do this, but I was never very good at keeping up with things unless I was forced to. Likewise, there’s a definite bump in the road that I need to get over–I’m very easily frustrated with drawing, since I’m quite bad at things like perspective: all of my drawings, whether they be of buildings, dogs, peanut shells, or cubes, end up looking flat. I get discouraged, and I quit.
Even now, as Janice and I are talking about lessons, I’m considering asking her to let me come to lessons twice a week. Any less, and I fear I’ll never improve, and worse, won’t be keen on the assignments if I don’t have some input (I’d rather have been in a class, where students can feed off each other’s energy, but the timing wasn’t right).
Anyhow. I guess I’ll check in on that later.
3. Arkansas tornado
This is my fourth deployment for ShelterBox and the first time I’ve been first team in and team lead. It was harrowing, to say the least. We were deployed for nine days, and at least half the time I had nightmares about customs and mobile homes being blown away. I slept maybe ten hours total for the last four days. I’m glad no one forced me to operate a forklift, although there was plenty of driving involved (communities in rural Arkansas are very spread out).
We met amazing people and were blown away by the way the community tried to rally around itself. Folks who arrived at the tent demonstration to learn how their own ShelterBoxes would work showed up the next morning and worked tirelessly to set up other people’s tents before they received theirs. The Boy Scouts turned out in force–we had nearly 40 of them.
And one 84-year-old man, after denying that he needed help over the two weeks since the tornado had struck, moved promptly in after we’d done setting up his tent.
Here he is, on the far right, with our volunteers AC and Jean-Paul.
I’ve got an interview with a radio station tomorrow morning to talk about this deployment, and I’ve been trying to figure out if I’ve learned anything. I remember the frustration and the worry, surely, but these things are de rigeur when it comes to deployments, and I won’t count them as memorable. Weirdly–or perhaps not so weirdly–I remember being sort of struck by the desperation, the need, the good humor of these folks. One woman, as we approached her land with her ShelterBox (her husband had been helping us all morning), gestured to the area where her home had been and said, “Don’t mind the mess. Looks like a tornado went through it.”
Yeah. Pretty fricken awesome.
4. Triathlon bug. Three girlfriends and I have been training for the Sleepy Hollow Triathlon. It fell two days after I returned from Arkansas, so I wasn’t thinking about posting any times, and well I didn’t, cos my swim was sheer misery. I finished that at the bottom of my age bracket and ended up with a total time of 1:35. It wasn’t where I wanted to finish, but my expectations were low.
Two of the girls have already signed up for another triathlon, and I couldn’t be happier. I really hope they keep it up. One of them is attempting 30 days of bikram yoga, which just sounds unhealthy to me, but I’m tempted to try it, just to boost my routine a bit. Could be interesting. Next race on my docket isn’t until September, and then there’s a half-marathon and another potential half-IM in Taiwan, but we’ll see about that as we get closer. Swimming in the warm waters of the ocean just of Kenting brings to mind riptides and sharks…!
Okay. More later, maybe. For now, gotta bang out some work before going to guest bartend for Big Green Box Week, ShelterBox’s annual awareness campaign.
Category Life, ShelterBox, Training and General Outdoors Stuff |
So. About a month ago. I told you all that I was going to keep track of whatever I ate for 30 days straight. Part of this was an attempt to lose weight. I know from long history that I’m faster and stronger when I’m lighter, so I thought I’d give this a go. Also, my food-scientist husband has long barked that I’m not allowed to complain about a little extra pudge if I don’t do everything I possibly can to fight the pudge, and he claims that keeping a food log will help with that on top of the exercise.
I should say that I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. Like anything, I hate knowing that I *have* to do it. (Think back to when you were forced to read anything for British Literature 101. I mean, didn’t that make you want to rip your hair out?)
But the love part of it comes when I’m with friends, or when I’m feeling strong. There was a time when a male friend would say, “Going for a quick seven-miler, wanna come?” And I’d say yes, and keep up. Those days are long gone and I miss them.
So I thought I’d see what happened if I exercised on a minimal basis and just kept a food log. How would I feel? What would happen? I’ve never even tried such a thing before.
Well, I did it, for 30 days straight.
- Photo: About.com
Here is what I learned:
- A lot of food manufacturers ask you to prepare the food with way too much oil. Prime example, popcorn. The package asks for three tablespoons of oil per 1/3rd cup of unpopped corn. People, this is an obscene amount of oil. In fact, it’s 420 calories worth and 45 grams of fat worth. That’s way, way too much. I used a massive pan and 1/3rd cup of unpopped kernals and got away with a tablespoon of oil, and it was delicious. I eat a lot of popcorn, so this matters to me. The same with rice and couscous. You don’t need the oil at all if you get the prepackaged mixes.
- image: simplyrecipes.com
- What does a tablespoon of oil or cream look like? Now I know. I used to consider myself a pretty good eyeballer, but I’m much better at it now. Also, a tablespoon of hummous goes a long, long way.
- Fruit and veg is very, very low in calories. I knew this ahead of time, but I was shocked by how few calories there are in a navel orange (64!) or in salsa (15 per 2-tblsp serving).
- One pre-packaged chicken breast is actually two servings. People, growth hormone is a scary thing. The chicken breasts we have in our freezer right now are HUGE. They’re easily two servings, so I adjusted our dinners to correspond to true servings.
- It is HARD to count calories when you’re out. I must confess to skipping a few of those things. One night, Jim and I were out while he was getting an award at work, and I stopped after trying to figure out whether or not the meatball I ate was small, medium, or large.
- Photo: SturgisJournal
Okay. So here’s what happened. I kept track of fat grams and basic calories. The results were fascinating
- In the first few days, I way overdosed on fat grams and came in way under in terms of daily calorie count.
- I grew to like looking over the days and calories. It became like another way to organize myself.
- But then I got tired of it.
- I also got tired of not exercising. And then I had to work extra hard just to find the calories to make up for the exercise. (I was shocked to see that the US RDA for calories assumes a totally sedentary lifestyle. I guess it’s the easiest baseline, but…)
In the end, I didn’t really get anything out of my 30 days. In fact, while my weight did redistribute itself (I noticed a narrower waistline after just a couple of days), I actually gained three pounds over my 30 days.
I won’t be doing the food log thing again. But I am much more cognizant of what I’m putting into my mouth.
I also think that’s the end of the 30-day projects for a bit, although today I’m trying something called the Pomodoro method (work for 25 minutes; take a 5-minute break; repeat until four cycles and then take a 15-20 minute break).
Maybe I’ll check in on that a little later.
Tags: food, tips
Category Life, Things I'm Working On |
I’m still pretty shaken up by the death of Getty Images photographer Chris Hondros.
When I met him, I was a fairly good way through my short-lived freelance editorial career, and, arguably, at the peak of it. I was a contributing editor for Hooked on the Outdoors magazine, about a half-year away from getting hired on to work in advertising sales, and I was loving every minute of it.
It was early fall of 2000, and I pitched a story to the now-defunct Hooked about the surfing scene in New Jersey. I called it “Surfing the Right Coast.” My editor John liked it enough that he sent me to cover it as a feature and assigned an up-and-coming photographer named Chris Hondros to cover it with me. Chris was already working with Getty at the time, and I picked him up just outside of his Varick street offices. He was in a sueded brown blazer, jeans, and loafers, and I thought, “Oh boy, is this guy going to be okay?”
Chris was more than okay. He scooted here and there, huge lenses strapped all over, and ended up taking some awesome photos of the surfing competition that was taking place. Perhaps most important to me, he took some beautiful portraits that, when they appeared on the thick glossy stock that Hooked used, popped from the page and pinned down the wistful, evocative feel of a surfing competition that would always remain on the outskirts of the surf scene no matter how many top competitors it turned out, and no matter how much environmentalism was at heart.
Fluffy stuff, for sure, especially when compared to the conflicts that Chris would eventually go on to cover. Chris also shot some photos of me later, for a short essay I wrote on my fear of sharks and the surfing lesson that took place the same day as the surf competition. Of course I’ll treasure those. I remember seeing them in the magazine and thinking to myself, “That looks just like me, and it’s exactly the way I’d want a photo of me in a magazine to appear.”
That was Chris, in a nutshell. He was a student of individuals, and he captured them exactly as they were doing or saying the things that were their very essences.
We became friends that day, and saw each other quite a few times after we’d filed the story.
Last night, while I was struggling to find some peace with the fact that Chris has essentially been murdered (he was hit by an RPG while covering the Libyan conflict), I remembered something else: Chris was present at my 26th birthday party at the Half King. It was, in part, such a memorable event because of the photos Chris took that night with my rinky dinky point-and-shoot film Kodak, a cheap model I picked up at Rite Aid in Queens. I took a lot of pictures that year, and I took that stupid camera wherever I went. Chris was one of the first to arrive, and I remember him picking it up and turning it over in his hand, twice, looking bemused.
After he was done inspecting it, he held the thing above his head and shot ten, twelve good photos of the party from above, and then he got up on a stool, kneeling, and shot some more. They were wonderful photographs. Chris wasn’t an event photographer by any means. But I do remember getting those photos back, and loving almost every single one of them.
Of course, he’s not in any of them. But then again, that wasn’t what he was about, was it?
Later that year, my then-boyfriend and I went to celebrate New Year’s with Chris and his friends. At the time, Chris was living smack in the middle of Times Square, on 43rd street. We went up to the roof to celebrate. It’s the best vantage point I ever have had of Times Square, and the closest I ever want to get to the heaving mass of humanity that is the NYE celebration there. I’ve often thought of how wonderful it was to spend NYE in Chris’ company, and I wrote the scene of that party into my first novel attempt later.
We saw each other after that, well into the new year (2001, it would have been). We spent not a few evenings at bars in each others’ company, slugging back beer and the occasional whiskey, I think, although I may have fabricated the whiskey part of it.
These are my scraps of memory then: a few time-stamped photographs; some e-mails lost in the ether; memories of his voice over the line and across a couple of bar tables, the friendly brown eyes and raised eyebrows–”Tell Uncle Chris about it,” coquettishly–the constantly scruffy face, and that damned jacket he wore when I first met him, the one that made an appearance everywhere, it seemed.
My memories are nowhere near the events and images that made him famous later on. You won’t find our little article on his web page; and he probably didn’t think of me much over the past few years, nor did I think of him all that much, except for when I came across his byline, which was, okay, frequent, and always with the thrill that he’d gone from what we did together to this life. Always there was a frisson of worry and a silent wish that he’d stay safe.
These are the things I remember. I am honored to have shared a byline with him. Happy he graced my life. Infinitely sad that he won’t be around for me to look up when I get a wild hair, dial the number that lived in my Rolodex for years, gathering dust. Maybe I’d hear the warm voice again.
He was a good man, a good friend, whenever I called. My work is better because of his work. Here is Chris’ web site. I hear he has a son, a 3-year-old. Maybe one day I will bring by the clips, show little Hondros the faces his father captured before he his work launched him onto the world stage as an important voice in conflict photography.
Or maybe I’ll just keep it to myself. For now, here are the pages of our work together. I will miss you, Chris. Thank you for sharing the byline.
UPDATE:
In lieu of flowers, the loved ones of Chris Hondros kindly request donations be made to The Chris Hondros Fund. This fund will provide scholarships for aspiring photojournalists and raise awareness of issues surrounding conflict photography.
The Chris Hondros Fund
c/o Christina Piaia
50 Bridge Street #414
Brooklyn, New York 11201
Tags: Chris Hondros, friends, memorials, New York stories, The People in My Neighborhood, writing
Category Life, Things I'm Working On |
