Sunrise this morning over Lake St. Clair (Close, but no Epiphany)

Close, but no Epiphany

I saw the sunrise twice this morning. Sort of. The sun didn't rise
twice, but I drove down to Lake St. Clair twice in a row, a somewhat
unusual event, thank goodness. Unfortunately, I never actually saw
the sun rise. I saw the glorious pink and gold and salmon clouds of
just before sunrise and the honey yellow gold clouds of just after
sunrise. Spectacular. I took some photos, but I cannot post them
until I re-invite myself to join my own blog. And furthermore, though
I have zillion things to do—I can't start my day until after 2:00. Or
sometime after 11, anyway.

Let me explain:

It started when the alarm went of at 6:25 Am as it does every
Thursday. Mrs. L arrives at 6:45 for Piano Boy's piano lesson. But
PB had been busy and bad all week—and maybe depressed—he has choir
shows and rehearsals and doesn't want to practice. He has plenty of
energy after choir to get online—in my computer—and play video games,
but no energy to practice. I turned on all the lights for her.

Mrs. L was very disappointed in him and is threatening to take him out
of Piano Festival because he hasn't learned his Festival pieces. When
he tried to use choir as an excuse, she reminded him that many other
students, including Jay, are in choir and are learning their pieces.
After the lesson was over, she tried to give him a pep talk ("If you
practice well over vacation, you can catch up," etc), but he was all
hangdog and unresponsive. (Acting depressed and uncaring.)

By now it was almost 7:30 and PB asked me to drive him to school. He
said he didn't have time to get there on his own. (He's supposed to
get himself to school.) I drove him and detoured around past the
lake—Lake St. Clair, and the sky was brilliant and gorgeous, the
clouds and lake lit up with predawn flame (Hmmmm, red in the morning .
. . ).

When I got home, I could hear the phone ringing before I even unlocked
the door. It was PB—"can you bring me my choir costume?" Me: "Why
didn't you bring it?" PB—"I didn't know I needed it." (DUH! He's
going to be singing at the DSO tonight! The Detroit Symphony
Orchestra.) So okay, unhappily, I run up and get OUR garment bag
(which he has appropriated and put his name in), which hangs unzipped
in his closet. I rush it downstairs and grab his character shoes and
drive back to the school a SECOND time—a huge bus is waiting and
Graham dashes over for his unzipped garment bag and mumbles and sort
of resentful-sounding "thank you" as if it is somehow my fault he
forgot his stuff. He doesn't want the shoes.

I drive by Lake St. Clair again—and the sun is just barely above the
horizon, spilling golden light over the clouds and water and ice—I
forgot the mention—Lake St. Clair is mostly frozen, at least in the
bays along the shore. Pretty. I hadn't taken a picture of the
earlier dramatically colored clouds, but I decide I could take a
picture now, and I drive to Pier Park. I walk every day and had been
intending to walk 15 minutes when I got home. Why not walk at Pier
Park—so I did—25 minutes, in fact.

When I got home, I started cleaning PB's pigsty—I mean his
room—because the delivery men are coming with the loveseat we bought
him for Christmas—very expensive. (And on the way to get it, PB
said some foul words to BB! As if he could have anything he wanted no
matter how disrespectful and mean he was. Of course, BB was being
kind of mean, too. I think he only meant to be joking, but it was
still mean.)While I am cleaning the room, I find part of PB's costume
on the floor in his closet behind a bin of stuff—I didn't see it there
when I grabbed the bag—too late—if he thinks I'm driving it down to
the DSO, he's wrong! (And SOL!!!)

I cleaned and vacuumed PB's room, and then carried the boxes and piles
of books into our bedroom and the bathroom and vacuumed the upstairs
all, the hallway, and the entryway. Phew—I got all hot and
sweatified!!!

THEN I ate breakfast, fed the birds outside, cleaned Rocky's cage, etc.

I have NOT done my exercises, showered, or put on clean clothes yet,
and cannot do it until AFTER the deliverymen leave. Because I can't
be in the shower when they arrive, or doing my exercises, since I need
to undress. And, therefore, I cannot "begin my day" until I have
showered, dressed, combed my hair etc. It's 11:19 and they are
supposed to come between 11:00 and 2:00, so I have to wait until they
arrive to shower dress etc. (I'm wearing yesterday's clothes, and to
tell you the truth, a very rare occurrence for me, they are the
clothes from two days ago because yesterday I had another morning
crisis. So I put on the clothes from the day before and was so busy
all day I never had time to change. ICK! I know!

I can't finish printing the Christmas cards because I need to go to
Staples for more ink and I can't go until after the delivery.
Complain complain complain complain. I'm kind of annoyed by how the
day has been going so far, but it did have one GOOD thing—I lost 5
pounds form the day before. YAY! (Well, really only just over 4
pounds). But it's the LEAST I've weighed since November 12 (before
thanksgiving!) So that's good!

I also had a late but yummy breakfast of omelette and bran. It
probably tasted even better than usual because I was quite hungry by
the time I got to eat.

12/17/09

Glass Crown

This is one of the many fractals I made last winter with one of my
fractal programs, Fractalworks, a free download for Mac users. I'm
still after almost 2 years a fairly reluctant Mac user and don't see
what all the fuss is about--I find Macs to be difficult and
unintuitive, but I've been told it's because I'm too used to PCs. PCs
stills trike me as so much easier. However, I'm slowly slowly slowly
learning the Mac and it is FAST! Its speed and its ability to
photograph portions of the screen at will are the only two things I
really like about it. That and fractal works. I wish I have a
nerdy-techno-friend who wanted to pour vast amounts of time into
answering my stupid Mac questions 24-hours a day so I could become
more efficient.

Bad News/GOOD NEWS!

Cartoon by Ty Marshal

I was driving PB up to Blue Lake Fine Arts camp and was in Whitehall a couple block from the Motel after driving for 4 hours--I was in the left turn lane getting ready to turn as soon as the light changed, and a puff of smoke came out of the vents and the car died and wouldn't start. PB had to keep jumping out to tell people my car was dead. Someone yelled at me that I should have my 4-ways on--I did! (He couldn't see them, PB said, because he was too close in a tall SUV), anyway he said he'd get help and a cop came and he called a "wrecker" and the guy listened while I tried to start my car and said, "I hope you're ready for a new car" and towed me to a garage for $60 and they said they couldn't even look at it for several days.

The reason I drove PB up was because GM is threatening to lay off 159 more people in BB's department in July and maybe the rest in September so BB wanted to work while he could but now he's on his way up.

We got a ride to the motel with the tow guy but the cab was so small we could only take a little with us. Later I walked a half hour back and forth to get my CPAP and other stuff.

Meanwhile, we need to get PB to camp by 9 tomorrow.

The guy at the garage said it looked and sounded BAD, but then added it could be something simple, like a belt.

After two different "experts" told me my car was "junk" and I needed to be "ready for a new one," and after much discussion on the phone, BB drove up 4 hours and arrived late last night and drove PB to Blue Lake and stood in the rain working on my car in the parking lot of the garage who "wouldn't be able to get to it for several days" and fixed it!

What happened is that the air conditioner seized up and froze and was on the same belt as the alternator which then stopped feeding juice to the battery which then died. Because it was raining, I was running the lights, windshield wipers, blowers etc. This killed the battery and then I had no ignition. BB fixed it, jumped it, and I have driven safely all the way home. I had two stressful days, but I am home safe.

If BB wasn't around, those guys were trying to talk me into another car. $100 for mine!

Were they crooks? Or ignorant? Or? I don't know, but anyway, my car is running again, minus air conditioning and I can DRIVE PLACES!
It was much cheaper than a new car, but not exactly "cheap." The belt was cheap, of course, relatively speaking, BUT BB had to take a day off work (and he just LOSES that pay) and drive 8 hours!

But we are very grateful as it could have been much much worse.

The first cartoon is by Ty Marshall and the second one is by me. If you click on them, you can view them larger.

Self-portrait of the Artsit on a Diet II

Self-portrait of the Artsit on a Diet II, by Mary Stebbins Taitt.

I wish I'd put this on Imagik. And vice versa. BUT HEY, here it is.
Being on a diet is very depressing. My fear is that I will have to be
on one for the rest of my life.

No Voice in the Primaries!

We're voting tomorrow, but our votes won't count.

I blame it on Iowa. Iowa has a law that they get to have the first primary. Who says? Why is that fair?

I think that we should either ROTATE who goes first through all 50 states and whoever went first one year goes to the end of the list the next year OR have all the primaries on the same day like we do with the final election in November. Why should Iowa and New Hampshire go first every time? Those early elections influence those kind of people who think they want to be on the side of the winner. I don't think that's an appropriate way to vote, but I know there are people who vote that way. I would prefer people to vote on issues, not on who's going to win, what their gender is, or what color their skin is.

We're going to vote tomorrow, but our vote won't count. This isn't fair, in my opinion, that my vote shouldn't count when other people's do. How is that fair?

Not only that, but the palette of choices is very narrow. We don't necessarily get to vote for who we want to win. They may not even be on the ballot and if we write it in, that vote count. Wait a minute! Is this a democracy and if so--why does my vote for my candidate not count equally with every other vote--why does it not count at all?

Absurdity

I moved more than a year ago to Detroit, and I still can't get my address changed for many of my business contacts. I tired again today. I went on line, and tried 10-15 times to log in, I called customer service twice, I tried the contact us button, and nothing worked. This has been an ongoing issue and my forwarding with the PO is about to expire. No one seems to have heard of real customer service any more. Mellon Investment's website SUCKS and so does their customer service, but they aren't alone.

Shoot me already

I have so much to do but I keep being distracted by what seems like a simple task but turns into a time sink and then because of insomnia etc, I screw up on top of that. This is the result, but NOT the intended result. OK, shoot me already. Now I have no time left to explain.

I saw on Coffeypot a meme which by the way was very funny the way he did it. One of the questions was, if you you could have one person in the world die, who would it be? I think it's an offensive question and I don't want to wish death on anyone. (I did that once and they actually died and I've been feeling guilty, though not regretful, ever since--and I had nothing to do with it.) However, if there WAS one person who I would ship off to another distant planet somewhere, one with air and food and water so they wouldn't die, but couldn't hurt anyone, it would be George Bush. I think he is doing more harm to the world than all the terrorists combined. Of course, if I was at the World Trade Center, or knew someone who was (I only knew people who knew people), maybe I wouldn't feel that way.

I would ship all the terrorists, rapists and abusers there too--anyone who abuses their wife, children, employees, friends or animals. All the thieves including corporate thieves. All the advisors to George Bush. The vice president. All the oil people in Iraq and elsewhere. Anyone who wants to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife refuge. All the mean people. They would all have a good time together and probably totally ruin whatever poor planet they got sent to but this one could finally begin to heal. Oh wait, maybe that planet is more important than those evil people. I'll have to send along an army to keep the polluters in line. People who are mean and bossy and like enforcing rules.

I don't like to talk about politics on my blogs because I am afraid that 50% of the few readers and visitors I have will leave permanently and never come back. I hope if you are a bloggy friend, you will stay one and allow me that right to disagree with you and I will allow you the same.

I'm not doing the rest of the meme--I wasn't tagged anyway and I do not have time!

Well, I am still here so I might as well say part of what went wrong with that image I never intended to waste so much time on anyway--for one thing, I sandwiched several images, and one set has straight horizons and one didn't and that made everything off by just a little. Very annoying. And a waste time, but there it is. What a dunce. I hate it when I'm a dunce. I seem to be more and more often. This post is starting to sound like it should be on Unbearable Darkness instead of here. OK, gotta RUN! AK!

Stolen!

Piano Boy Speeds along the Sidewalk

Stolen!

When Piano Boy left to “hang out with his friends” (the word "play" slipped out, but he quickly took it back) yesterday, I told him to call me and let me know where they were and to remember that he had an orthodontist appointment at 6:30. He was supposed to be home by 5:30, no excuses, to eat and brush his teeth.

The orthodontist called and left a message to ask if we could come in at 6 instead, since he had a cancellation and needed to leave the office. I didn’t call back, since I didn’t know where Piano Boy was or how to reach him.

At 5:30, no Piano Boy, at 5:45, no Piano Boy. We ate dinner without him. Since he lost his cell phone, we had no way to contact him. Then, finally, he called to say his bicycle was stolen. He was going to Yamaha’s to call the police.

The orthodontist appointment was a consultation. When he hadn’t shown up by 6:15, we left without him. As we were pulling in to the orthodontist office, the phone rang and he was home. Biker Buddy went back to get him. The orthodontist asked me when they’d be there. I said soon. He was annoyed and wanted to leave, but waited.

The appointment was strange. I wrote about it last night, and will add it later, if I have time. (I have to download it from my PDA).

Piano Boy said that Houston had locked their two bikes together and both bikes were stolen. That may be the truth, or it may be that they weren’t locked at all and he’s afraid to admit it because we had told him hundreds of times to always lock it to something that couldn’t be removed, like a tree, sign or bike rack. Bicycle theft is a popular and all-too common crime in our area. Around here, there are so many bicycle thefts that the chances of getting the bike back are near zero. The cops essentially ignore the problem. Sometimes, the stolen bikes are dumped into the lake. Other times they disappear into the ghetto or elsewhere.

So, the “new” bike is gone. Whose fault is? Well, first it’s the fault of the thief. The thief is ultimately to blame. But then, it is Piano Boy’s fault. He’d been given not one but two locks and carefully instructed in their proper use. He’d been reminded and encouraged to lock his bike and told that if it were stolen through his neglect, we would NOT replace it—at least not immediately.

This morning, Piano Boy asked me to drive him to Jake’s. I said no. He could take the other old bike or walk or stay home. He needed to suffer some consequences in order to understand why we tell him to do certain things. He said he would not ride the “ghetto bike” (it’s not “cool enough” for him). He took “my” roller blades instead.

I’ll probably have to drive him to Choir day camp next week. That will take time from my busy schedule. Or, we could let him take money from his bank account, the non-college portion, to buy a new bike. His carelessness is going to be a burden to all of us. And it’s sad; it’s an unnecessary and unhappy loss. It makes me question human nature. Why do we have thieves, computer hackers, rapists and murderers? Right, let’s put this in perspective. Piano Boy is OK. Maybe he’ll learn to take better care of his things. Maybe. But I’m not holding my breath.

Today's Detroit Photo.

Meaningful Lives and me

Occasionally, I read a novel that is more like life than most I read. I read one such a while ago, but unfortunately; I've forgotten it name. The protagonist was a klutz and everything always went wrong. If I wrote a truthful story of my own life, that's what it would be like. A comedy (or tragedy) of errors.

I did not want to write about my failed day. I wanted to write something meaningful. I had a whole list of topics to explore, including some of the people I admire and why I admire them.

For example, Tim Burke. I don't know him; I just met him at his home at the Heidelberg Project. This is why I admire him:

• Ø He's an artist. He's a real artist (whatever that means.)* He makes and sells art. He is serious about his work), but playful as well. Best of all, he lives like an artist. He lives in an art community, surrounded by his art. He makes a statement with everything he does.
• Ø He's a poet. He's a performance poet, and he does it well. He recites political poetry, poetry that might make a difference.
• Ø He combines his poetry and his art in performance and seeks to engage the public.

What do I like about him? He’s nice. I think what he's doing is important. I think art is important, I think poetry is important, and I think speaking out for what you believe is important. I'd like to be more like that. I'd like to live my art and poetry and speak out on important issues. Instead, I wallow. I wallow in a black hole of stupid wasteful activities.

Today, I tried to order tickets for the Harry Potter movie online because it's newly out, but Fandango kept saying, please enter a valid email address, even though I had. I Xed it out and tried again, numerous times. I called Star Theaters, emailed Fandango, wasting more and more time, but to no avail. This means that in order to assure we had seats, we had to go in really early. More wasted time.

I emailed back and forth about the sale of my mother's house. This is a daily or nearly daily activity that is a singularity of wasted time. Eventually, something positive may come of it. I sure hope so. But on a daily basis, it’s a time sink.

I could go on, but I won't; I will not list all the stupid things I did today instead of something useful and productive, except this: I wanted to have Biker Buddy's dinner ready the minute he got home from work so we could go right away to see Harry Potter. I am making grilled yellow fin tuna in a lemon-wine sauce with a side of fresh veggie mix in a curried wine sauce and a side of beans and rice and a fancy complex salad. In the midst of the elaborate preparation, I am reaching for the wine evacuator in the side of the silverware drawer and knock over the bottle of wine. It turns upside down in the silverware and special tools drawer and empties entirely into the drawer before I can rescue it.

Then, it begins draining out the bottom of the opened drawer onto my feet and the floor. Did I mention that what I had wanted to do today was work on my story and take a walk? Spinning through the darkness of Murphy, the day was almost gone, but I thought that once the tuna was marinating and the veggies cut and the sauce made, there's still be a little time to accomplish something.

But instead, I was cleaning a big mess on the counter, in the drawer, on the floor. I had to take all the silver and tools out and wash them, dry them and replace them after cleaning the drawer.
When Biker Buddy rolled in, I was just finishing cleaning up, and it was time to start the fish and veggies.

Now, I am sitting in the darkened theater, a half hour still to go before they even start the previews. I didn't work on my story and I didn't walk. I did no art. I didn't confront George Bush for ruining the environment or bombing babies. I did nothing useful or meaningful. I wasted a day trying to get Harry Potter tickets, talking about real estate, cleaning lost wine, and other unbearably unmentionable times sinks.

The people who do meaningful, good and useful things, do they have their own private Murphy diverter?*** Where can I get one?

*I am an artist, because I create art.** But I don't often consider myself a real artist because I rarely sell anything and don't live like an artist. I am a poet because I write poetry. I have a Master’s degree in poetry. But I don’t usually consider myself a “real” poet, because I don’t have a “real” book. I’m a photographer and have won awards for my Photography, but I don’t consider myself a “real” photographer. Don’t ask.

**What is art? What is poetry? Who defines what art is, what poetry is, what a novel is? Can I say for certain that I create art?

***Real people make art; I’ve met some of them. Real people write books, are doctors, find cures for diseases, etc. How do they stave off Murphy and the Black Hole? How do they fight Entropy?

This is an excerpt from my Journal for 7-17-07 and 7-18-07. The original full journal entry is posted here.
Another part of the journal edited and posted here.
Another picture of Tim Burke posted here.

PS, I messed up the QUIZ that I left while I was in Slovenia, so if you couldn't comment before, try again now. When I have 5 comments, or more (if they come in fast and furious, which I don't expect), I will post the answers.

It occurs to me that this post prolly should be placed in The Unbearable Darkness of Being instead of here. Oh well.

stocking up

I just hear the strangest thing on the radio--it was an advertisement encouraging people to stock up on apple pie for the 4th of July. I was confused. I thought apple pie was something you made, not something you "stocked up" on.

I guess I'm getting old. There are so many things about the new order I find upsetting, even such small things!

(Painting by me from an earlier photo, click to view larger. [The pie was by me, too, and tasty!])
--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary

Feeling Crabby

Yes, I know this is a CRAYFISH, but I'm a crab, LOL!

Blogger has gotten so much harder I almost don't want to bother with it at all. And that's just one of my problems. I'm still dealing with my mother's estate and while I was away, I got huge piles of snailmail and email, and I'm not caught up yet. I am feeling crabby about it all, so watch out! (To say nothing of canceled and multiply rescheduled and recanceled doctor's appointments and worse yet, the health issues behind them.)

Why did blogger make blogging harder and less user friendly than it was before? Any ideas?

It will be a while before I can blog regularly again, I'm so so far behind.

I did, however, post some new posts including some juvenalia self portraits and two newer ones, some of my father's paintings. I have written some "real" posts but haven't had time to download them yet.

An interpretation of feeling overwhelmed, On the Street, for Self-portrait challenge, One of the juvenalias (click home while there to see the rest), one of Pa's unfinished paintings (click home while there to see more), one of my new pieces (click home while there to see more--I think there are at least 4 new pieces).

I took the crayfish photo last night at the tiny beach along Lakeshore while walking with Biker Buddy.