I heard a phrase on mpr this morning that describes how I feel about aging so completely... and now I've completely forgotten it. That also describes aging completely. Ha ha. There was a woman being interviewed who was talking about her two books (one about being anorexic, one about recovering from anorexia) and she said this thing... about being defined by society or something. Oh rats, it was so perfect and now I've lost it.
That defines aging, too.
Other people have probably said this, but it seems that there is something about turning 40. All through my 20s and 30s I felt like I was the same age. Practically. Oh, I might have felt a bit older at 38 than I did at 21, but mostly I felt like an adult who still feels like a kid a lot of the time. That brings to mind a conversation Ross and I had with his mom and her sister Abby. Ross was talking about how, as the younger generation, he always feels like he's still a kid. And Abby said, "How do you think I feel? I feel like a kid, too!" Which makes me think that probably the vast majority of people still feel, at some level, like they're kids. Except that some people have the appearance of never having been kids (Dick Cheney, for example). So that makes me wonder how common this phenomenon is. What percentage of the population still feels like kids?
But back to aging. When I get up during the night for a glass of water my left foot makes this snapping noise. And it hurts. My left thumb feels a little painful and swollen, and over the last couple of years I've had this chronic knee tendonitis that interferes with my running. I've had chronic shoulder tendonitis for longer than that, but that seems much more dependent on the intensity of my climbing so I don't chalk it up to age quite as much.
But hell! I don't want to get old! I want to stay young and strong and vital. I suppose this is an important realization, but I feel both like I shouldn't have to come to this, and guiltily like I should have come to this sooner. I feel like I NEED to acknowledge that I won't be young forever so that I can plan for the future, set goals and achieve them while I'm still able to, and so on. But I hate even acknowledging that. I don't want to think that there's a finite amount of time to climb 5.12.
I ran the Twin Cities Marathon ten years ago. Ten years! Shit! And ever since then I've had it in my mind that I'd like to run another marathon, and now I need to fully realize that it's going to get harder and harder the longer I wait.
My career doesn't particularly allow for a huge amount of career planning. Sculpting jobs are rare. I don't know what I'd do, for sure, if this job went away. I might have to shift to a completely different track. And on some level I feel like I ought to plan for that eventuality, but it feels really weird to do so. Even as I say that, I automatically remind myself of how incredibly lucky I am to be able to sculpt every day, and how fortunate I am to be an American and not an Iraqi or a Rwandan. No one is trying to kill me. In the greater scheme of things I have NOTHING to complain about. But it is human nature to be aware of the difficulties of one's life, no matter how trivial those difficulties may be. In my case, there is the awareness of mortality. Ha ha.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Toad
He is Toad
aka Briarlea's Never Been Kissed
Also known as
Mutton head
Mutton butt
Melon head
Big paw puppy
Monster dog
Toadalump
Toadie Toad
Fuzz butt
Smelly dog
Kibble hatch
Tender puppy toes
Bouvier des flounder
Brown-eyed dog (think Van Morrison's "Brown eyed girl")
and there are more that I can't think of on a moment's notice.
Kiri and Toad's winter adventure
Winter storm! Ah, the images those words evoke... and here are a few of those images.
The snow-plastered dog...
Dog on a snowy trail...
The snow-plastered Kiri...
The big, happy, mutton-head...
Indigenous plant life...
Trees being whipped by wind-blown snow...
Kiri being whipped by wind-blown snow...
But seriously, folks... great snow storm. I feel all excited and shit. I wish I had a fireplace so I could curl up in front of it. I feel so alive... so... invigorated. So real. So Minnesotan. Ha ha.
The snow-plastered dog...
Dog on a snowy trail...
The snow-plastered Kiri...
The big, happy, mutton-head...
Indigenous plant life...
Trees being whipped by wind-blown snow...
Kiri being whipped by wind-blown snow...
But seriously, folks... great snow storm. I feel all excited and shit. I wish I had a fireplace so I could curl up in front of it. I feel so alive... so... invigorated. So real. So Minnesotan. Ha ha.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Al Franken
I have the pleasure of working with a woman who is perhaps a more fanatical liberal than I am. Betsy, my longtime co-sculptor, is a woman of strong opinions, not afraid to state her views. A woman who loves the outdoors, who loves fishing and gardening and big dogs. In short, someone I have a lot in common with (notwithstanding the fishing). Fortunately we have similar tastes in radio listening (as we spend every day together at work) and we've been devoted listeners to Al Franken's radio show for the last three years.
We started listening to Al because his co-host was Katherine Lanpher, formerly of Minnesota Public Radio, which we are also devoted listeners of. I may have to blog about that separately, so great is my love for mpr. But back to Al and Katherine. She was a really strong personality on mpr, a love her or hate her personality, and when she went to join Al we followed. We supported Al Franken on general principles, as he is liberal, engaging and extremely funny.
When Katherine left Al's show, Betsy and I remained devoted listeners. In some ways I think her leaving was good for him; previously she was the serious, on-point element and he was the goofball. After she moved on he assumed the full duties of the host.
To make a long story shorter, Al Franken just ended his three-year stint as radio host, and started a new potential career as politician. I know there are many who doubt his abilities, who have issues with his personality, or think he doesn't have the background for the job. But I think those who listened to his radio show know how knowledgeable he is on the issues, how connected he is with intelligent and thoughtful commentators and activists, and that he is fully capable of taking a serious tack, despite his long career as a comedian.
We started listening to Al because his co-host was Katherine Lanpher, formerly of Minnesota Public Radio, which we are also devoted listeners of. I may have to blog about that separately, so great is my love for mpr. But back to Al and Katherine. She was a really strong personality on mpr, a love her or hate her personality, and when she went to join Al we followed. We supported Al Franken on general principles, as he is liberal, engaging and extremely funny.
When Katherine left Al's show, Betsy and I remained devoted listeners. In some ways I think her leaving was good for him; previously she was the serious, on-point element and he was the goofball. After she moved on he assumed the full duties of the host.
To make a long story shorter, Al Franken just ended his three-year stint as radio host, and started a new potential career as politician. I know there are many who doubt his abilities, who have issues with his personality, or think he doesn't have the background for the job. But I think those who listened to his radio show know how knowledgeable he is on the issues, how connected he is with intelligent and thoughtful commentators and activists, and that he is fully capable of taking a serious tack, despite his long career as a comedian.
Climbing boots and crampons
For those who don't climb and don't appreciate the distinction between hiking shoes and climbing boots, a brief but informative note.
Here is a picture of my ice climbing boot with crampon attached. In this photo you can see the dual front points. The yellow part is just the forefoot of the crampon - it is the attachment point for the toe bail, which is the curved wire part that locks over the toe rand of the boot. The metal strip that runs up over the toe is a guide for the nylon strap. The strap is really just there to keep the crampon from falling off if it pops off the rand of the boot.
Here you can see the entire boot. It is a heavy, stiff boot with insulation, and a very thick, stiff sole (or rand). The crampon attaches via the toe bail and the heel lever. The plastic piece hooked over the heel rand locks on with a levering action, and thus attaches the crampon very firmly to the boot.
As you might imagine, these allow one to walk effortlessly across slick ice, and also to climb relatively effortlessly up vertical ice.
Here is a picture of my ice climbing boot with crampon attached. In this photo you can see the dual front points. The yellow part is just the forefoot of the crampon - it is the attachment point for the toe bail, which is the curved wire part that locks over the toe rand of the boot. The metal strip that runs up over the toe is a guide for the nylon strap. The strap is really just there to keep the crampon from falling off if it pops off the rand of the boot.
Here you can see the entire boot. It is a heavy, stiff boot with insulation, and a very thick, stiff sole (or rand). The crampon attaches via the toe bail and the heel lever. The plastic piece hooked over the heel rand locks on with a levering action, and thus attaches the crampon very firmly to the boot.
As you might imagine, these allow one to walk effortlessly across slick ice, and also to climb relatively effortlessly up vertical ice.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
My Ross
He is funny. This is a fairly big part of who he is. He is witty and quick and clever. He delights in making me laugh, and he does it constantly. I am so pleased when I can make him laugh in part because he's so damn good at making me laugh. Sometimes it's just because he does something funny. Sometimes we amuse each other with crude humor. But Ross is so clever with words that he can come up with puns and witticisms on the spur of the moment, and then turn them into poetry, sometimes.
He is sweet. He says sweet, simple things. He says, "Thank you for tea," EVERY time I bring it to him. He is so aware of those small gestures. He lets me know when he misses me.
He is intelligent. We both love science fiction, a genre that in my experience tends to attract a fairly smart crowd, but it is by no means the end-all of our reading experiences. He reads voraciously, a habit that we indulge in together on a daily basis. He understands how things work, and loves to figure out how things work. When we first got together and he discovered that I had a subscription to Scientific American, he said, "You're cool."
He loves music. He can be so descriptive about music that he loves, that I can't help but love it too. He has real passion for it. He can wax rhapsodic. He doesn't play, but understands much of how to play.
He has mechanical sympathy. He understands cars and motorcycles in a way I never will. It's a medium that he knows intimately, and he can dive into a project and know that he'll be able to deal with any issue that comes up. He has confidence without arrogance. He has passion for it. He has such admiration for the history and sweat and thought that have gone into every design.
He's waiting for me to come to bed, so I will end this for now. But I could go on. There's a lot more to say.
My Ross.
He is sweet. He says sweet, simple things. He says, "Thank you for tea," EVERY time I bring it to him. He is so aware of those small gestures. He lets me know when he misses me.
He is intelligent. We both love science fiction, a genre that in my experience tends to attract a fairly smart crowd, but it is by no means the end-all of our reading experiences. He reads voraciously, a habit that we indulge in together on a daily basis. He understands how things work, and loves to figure out how things work. When we first got together and he discovered that I had a subscription to Scientific American, he said, "You're cool."
He loves music. He can be so descriptive about music that he loves, that I can't help but love it too. He has real passion for it. He can wax rhapsodic. He doesn't play, but understands much of how to play.
He has mechanical sympathy. He understands cars and motorcycles in a way I never will. It's a medium that he knows intimately, and he can dive into a project and know that he'll be able to deal with any issue that comes up. He has confidence without arrogance. He has passion for it. He has such admiration for the history and sweat and thought that have gone into every design.
He's waiting for me to come to bed, so I will end this for now. But I could go on. There's a lot more to say.
My Ross.
Ice climbing
Went ice climbing last Sunday, for the first time in this entire winter! This is a big surprise to me, since last winter was my most ice-climbingest, and this winter was going to start out strong with me being one of the instructors at the Sandstone Ice Fest (you can find out more at Sandstoneicefest.com). But I got a horrible cold just before the Ice Fest, and then came Christmas, and then January passed, and now here I am.
So Shawn and I drove up to Sandstone (1.5 hours), pulled up at the gas station for any last minute needs, and I had a horrible realization. I forgot my climbing boots.
Boots for ice climbing have a few specific design requirements. They must be fairly stiff, so as to not flex excessively, and they must have a stiff, heavy rand that juts out past the toe. This is to allow the crampon to latch onto the boot. The crampon is the miraculous ice-walking tool - like a saw blade on your foot. It has perhaps 8-10 points on the bottom, to allow walking across icy surfaces, and either one or two frontpoints, to allow climbing up vertical ice.
So I had forgotten my boots, and there was no way my crampons would attach to my hiking shoes. We debated the options and decided to go for it, and see what we could do. As it turned out, I ended up climbing all day in my hiking shoes with no crampons, and it was great. It was hard. It was extra challenging and forced me to approach the climbs in new ways; it forced me to get creative with foot placements, and to think ahead even more than I would normally, so as to take advantage of rock edges and other features.
We climbed five climbs, I could barely stay awake when I got home on Sunday, and I'm still sore today. But my, it was good.
A typical view at Sandstone - quarried walls, some with enough ice to climb.
Ice climbers discussing weighty matters.
A view toward the main flow - not the mass nearby, but the much taller ice partially obscured by trees.
The only picture I got of me.
Some guy on the main flow.
So Shawn and I drove up to Sandstone (1.5 hours), pulled up at the gas station for any last minute needs, and I had a horrible realization. I forgot my climbing boots.
Boots for ice climbing have a few specific design requirements. They must be fairly stiff, so as to not flex excessively, and they must have a stiff, heavy rand that juts out past the toe. This is to allow the crampon to latch onto the boot. The crampon is the miraculous ice-walking tool - like a saw blade on your foot. It has perhaps 8-10 points on the bottom, to allow walking across icy surfaces, and either one or two frontpoints, to allow climbing up vertical ice.
So I had forgotten my boots, and there was no way my crampons would attach to my hiking shoes. We debated the options and decided to go for it, and see what we could do. As it turned out, I ended up climbing all day in my hiking shoes with no crampons, and it was great. It was hard. It was extra challenging and forced me to approach the climbs in new ways; it forced me to get creative with foot placements, and to think ahead even more than I would normally, so as to take advantage of rock edges and other features.
We climbed five climbs, I could barely stay awake when I got home on Sunday, and I'm still sore today. But my, it was good.
A typical view at Sandstone - quarried walls, some with enough ice to climb.
Ice climbers discussing weighty matters.
A view toward the main flow - not the mass nearby, but the much taller ice partially obscured by trees.
The only picture I got of me.
Some guy on the main flow.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Yearning for spring
It's that time. I want it badly.
It's not that winter is so terrible, at this point. I'm all acclimatized. I can take the cold; we had a -16 degree morning, and I took the dog around the block, no problem. The darkness is actually easing - I can leave work with some light in the sky, now. It's quite thrilling, really. I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't even been out ice climbing yet - not even once! - so for that reason alone I should relish the remaining winter as a chance to get out there and sink those ice axes.
But I want to bike to work. I want the snow to go away. I want stuff to start poking up out of the ground. I want to be outside a lot. I want to run. I want Ross to work on the Jag.
I planted a bunch of tulips a year and a half ago, and this will be their second blooming season. God I love tulips. They're just so... succulent. They're such focused balls of color. They're so obvious. I feel such a huge rush when I see them grow where I planted them. That brings me to a good thing about spring after a Minnesota winter; the winter lasts long enough that I've kind of forgotten what was in the garden, what I planted where, and what it looks like. Every spring is an amazing period of discovery. For instance, two years ago I had started a bunch of stuff from seed. Some of it grew vigorously that summer, and was nice. But in the second summer (last year) some delphiniums that had been completely ignorable suddenly grew huge and produced absolute loads of blue flowers.
So with no further ado, some garden photos.
It's not that winter is so terrible, at this point. I'm all acclimatized. I can take the cold; we had a -16 degree morning, and I took the dog around the block, no problem. The darkness is actually easing - I can leave work with some light in the sky, now. It's quite thrilling, really. I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't even been out ice climbing yet - not even once! - so for that reason alone I should relish the remaining winter as a chance to get out there and sink those ice axes.
But I want to bike to work. I want the snow to go away. I want stuff to start poking up out of the ground. I want to be outside a lot. I want to run. I want Ross to work on the Jag.
I planted a bunch of tulips a year and a half ago, and this will be their second blooming season. God I love tulips. They're just so... succulent. They're such focused balls of color. They're so obvious. I feel such a huge rush when I see them grow where I planted them. That brings me to a good thing about spring after a Minnesota winter; the winter lasts long enough that I've kind of forgotten what was in the garden, what I planted where, and what it looks like. Every spring is an amazing period of discovery. For instance, two years ago I had started a bunch of stuff from seed. Some of it grew vigorously that summer, and was nice. But in the second summer (last year) some delphiniums that had been completely ignorable suddenly grew huge and produced absolute loads of blue flowers.
So with no further ado, some garden photos.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
My sister's kids
A couple of weeks ago I was in Seattle visiting my parents and sis. It was my most relaxed time in Seattle, ever, which was really good. And it was fantastic to spend loads of time just hanging out with Maia and Sophia and Stella.
I feel differently about my sister's kids than I've ever felt about anyone else's kids. I've never been a "kid" person. I feel no need to apologize for that, really, although I am coming perilously close at the moment as I try to put into words how I feel about that situation. I was a good babysitter as a teen only because I was a kid myself and could relate. Babies were another thing entirely; I hadn't been around 'em much, didn't know how they worked. They made me nervous; they did things that I didn't know how to deal with. As an adult, I never felt a burning need for a child - and I know that other people do have a real, intense need, but that was never my deal. I think in some way I was never ready or mature enough to be a parent. Maybe I am now, but I have always believed not having children is a perfectly acceptible option and I still believe that.
Given all that, I think it's way cool for other people to have kids. In the last couple of years a bunch of people close to me have had 'em, so I've had way more baby exposure. I went on a climbing trip with Shawn and Nancy and their daughter Maya when she was less than 2(?) and did my part in entertaining her. I've played with Mike and Sarah's son, Max, and watched him run madly down the sidewalk. And now I've spent hours playing with Sophia, drawing and building and reading books. And y'know, she's really something. For whatever reason, I feel a bond with her that is different than my bond with my friends' kids.
I look forward to more quality aunt time in the future. It'll be way cool.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Science Fiction - why does it get a bad rap?
I've been an SF fan for as long as I can remember. I'll ammend that to SF&F, as it is frequently the designation and I am a big fan of Fantasy as well as the Science-based stuff. So I am a fan, and a fairly rabid one, too. Nevertheless, I don't expect everyone to appreciate the genre, and I certainly don't push it on any friends who don't have a desire to read it. I consider taste in literature to be a fairly personal thing and open to many paths, all of them valid and worthy.
But I can't help but pick up on the rep that SF has. Some think of it as universally (no pun intended) campy, simplistic, or pulpy. Some are dismissive; it's not true literature. Not worthy of inclusion in the grand club of intellectual writing. Some probably find it pointless. Some probably find it not representative of real life, with no meaning for the current-day reader.
To those people I say... that's probably all true of SOME science fiction. But it's also all true of many books available in the bookstore today. There are some fine, fine examples of writing in the science fiction genre; books that illustrate great ideas, books that present very human characters in all their beauty and complexity.
One of the things that draws me to SF&F, especially to the fantasy side of the equation, is the deep and resonant response I have to myth and archetype. I find SF exciting - so many ideas can be explored through this genre; concepts about what might be, what developments might happen and how they will work. And most importantly, how people will respond to them.
But I can't help but pick up on the rep that SF has. Some think of it as universally (no pun intended) campy, simplistic, or pulpy. Some are dismissive; it's not true literature. Not worthy of inclusion in the grand club of intellectual writing. Some probably find it pointless. Some probably find it not representative of real life, with no meaning for the current-day reader.
To those people I say... that's probably all true of SOME science fiction. But it's also all true of many books available in the bookstore today. There are some fine, fine examples of writing in the science fiction genre; books that illustrate great ideas, books that present very human characters in all their beauty and complexity.
One of the things that draws me to SF&F, especially to the fantasy side of the equation, is the deep and resonant response I have to myth and archetype. I find SF exciting - so many ideas can be explored through this genre; concepts about what might be, what developments might happen and how they will work. And most importantly, how people will respond to them.
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