the essence of design

good: ipod touch.
poor: the berry. just a tad too. thick.

good: japanese temple.
fearsome: chinese temple. garish, dreadful ostentation.

so-so: arial.
worse: times new roman. familiarity etc.?

good: the old vw beetle.
forgettable: the new beetle. just a tad too. leetle.

almost okay: fishnet on dark skin.
pure sleaze: fishnet on fair skin. like an overfilled ice-cream cone.

good: the national cathedral.
ghastly: many modern slabs. the chinese temples of today.

my i.t. journey

1. the little black book. literally.
2. palm pda. 3 generations. mff*.
3. ipod touch. sleek, sexy, un-sssssyncable.

*most faithful friend, abandoned only after progressive failure of jacket, stylus contact, hotsync cable and loss of the other cable.

modernism

J2 is rewriting the three little pigs for creative writing into the three mousedeer. instead of pigs going out into the world the mousedeer are fostered by a benevolent tigress who tries to protect them from a forest fire for which she is unfairly blamed. she eventually perishes at her charges' paws/pads. like beowulf, remember?

all i say is, yikes. if you don't watch out, J2, you will become one of those writers i avoid for being incomprehensibly intellectual and existentially depressing.

pssst. she is rewriting the ending. the tigress narrowly avoids a contretemps; everybody has a round table discussion to improve communication. i still say, yikes. give me a full-blooded, escapist, moral-free, happily ever after fairy tale anytime.

psssst. coup de grace - the tigress turns vegetarian. ugh.

rituals

are important to HOM and me.

they gather many threads, spare us from lusty curiosity, coach actions that direct our thoughts, and free us to worship. ironic to think i remember when rituals were unwelcome intrusive presumptions!

and yet rituals are only as useful as they are understood, and i hope that the youth will in time be consciously grateful for the rituals that the older church tries to preserve.

christmas cantata 2

in the natural course of things, J2 declines to return to choir practice following her first, admittedly captive, attendance.

i return to alto, because, naturally, it's one thing to know the note or even to hear it in your head but to hit it is another matter altogether.

the two youth tenors, J1 and W, get to sing the tenor solos, which they do with great enthusiasm.

poooffff

the one time the moon is blue and i give a dinner party and plan a stress-free restaurant-based no-cook menu and the restaurant goes and closes for renovation.

decisioned

amazon.com, my favorite shopping destination.

click the order. sit back and relax. by middle age, the joys of physically shopping have worn thin.

decisions

should i buy a book online (it's out of stock in the store) using my borders gift card to pay for book and shipping, or get it from amazon for cheaper, with free shipping, using HOM's credit card?

or should i just read the many orphan books i already own and have not read or could reread?

or i could get a new read for a fraction from the thrift store, but it would be subject to the tastes of those who donate (mostly popular fiction in disgusting condition, from which i am experiencing a temporary withdrawal).

or i could get off my butt and go for a walk then come back to prepare dinner and get ready for the weekend. or go have a nap.

perhaps a nap.

mushy thoughts

HOM asks me to the in-his-honor company sponsored anniversary lunch, which is quite sweet because he generally doesn't mix business with family beyond the annual picnic. i end up the only piece of froth among nineteen suits.

lovely lunch, seeing as i will love most food that gets served to me. and he makes a touching speech that says one reason he's lasted twenty years is because i have sacrificed so much so uncomplainingly. very blush-inducing.

dolt, i want to say. it's not been a sacrifice. it's been my privileged journey.

eph 5:25a. i'm grateful.

journey to ithaca

the adult vacation trend is to make a pilgrimage to the ancestral village in china and fraternize with one's hitherto unknown kin.

the idea is admirable. what are we if we do not know the reticulated culture that begets us, if we do not preserve the personal humanity of our history? what legacy will we leave, if it starts two generations ago in the new country?

my response is painfully unadmirable. modern city girl who needs her amenities is not going to do well traipsing to the village with wooden houses well water chickens and dust. reserved modern city girl cringes at having to feel the love continuously at unwelcome decibels. sweepingly and totally unfairly, overseas chinese diaspora girl does not feel enthusiastic about the middle kingdom and its inhabitants.

this is uncaring and selfish. but try as i may i cannot feel much beyond instinctive revulsion when i look at people's family reunion photos. sigh.