Mise-en-scène deux

Little snippets of things unpacked...

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Copper and brass plates and trays being polished and auditioning for a place....

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This week's flowers... spring is beckoning... check out the crazy yellow ball thingeys.  They don't even look real, do they - but most assuredly are.  They smell like the European style yellow mimosa.  I always think of Aunt Lolo, my father's sister, when I smell yellow mimosa.  

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My Aunt Lolo and Uncle Kurt were in their Porsche in the Swiss Alps in 1970 when they hit a patch of ice, slid under a semi, and were instantly decapitated.  We were told that the backseat was filled with bouquets of yellow mimosa from Lolo's garden, cut fresh that morning for friends they were going to visit.

I know this seems a rather gruesome ending to what started out as a happy post, but every time I see or smell yellow mimosa, it floods me with memories; sensory, visual, hard wired into my atomic structure.  The good memories come from living in Aunt Lolo's house on the French Riviera outside of Vence on the Moyen Corniche, where we were able to experience first hand the glorious flowering of the mimosas. During our familial wandering phase we ended up living there for six months after our evacuation from Uganda.

How about this glorious vision of Satsumas that I picked up at Metropolitan Market:

I wish you had Smell-O-Vision - the tangerine smell is unbelievable.  Instead of a portal would it be a snortal?

What smells kick off your brain - transports you to another time and place?  

 

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Lovely friends

Here's Leigh (on the left) and Deb.  I know both of them due to Lina's outstanding ability to make friends.  Leigh and Lina call each other "Bidsy" and "Madam" and have a deep and profound friendship.  They have more fun than you can shake a stick at.  Isn't Leigh luminous?

Deb and I became friends through Lina (natch) and Deb's daughter Jeannie.  Lina was quite insistent that Deb and I had to get together because we would totally hit it off and of course she was right.  Deb and her husband Buck are great to hang with and I have profound admiration for Deb who is an even bigger packrat than I am.  I'm a reformed packrat now.  Really truly.  Except for fabric.

Deb and Leigh became friends this summer while slaving over my house dismemberment along with Lina, Ali, Lori, Brad, Ren et. al.  Most of these folks had dinner with me at the Salty Iguana my first night in Kansas City last week.  Many margaritas were consumed and we all upped our cholesterol levels with the food.  Lori took photos - please send!

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Pure poetry... Kafka transliterated to the Australian outback.

Two Men:

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My Favorite Restaurant is in a GAS STATION!

Oklahoma Joe's.... mmmmm..... 

Kansas City BBQ at it's finest.

Drooling yet?

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The New Yorker, November 29, 2010

Peter Schjeldahl on the Ghent Altarpiece.

A quote, pure poetry:

"We know now, from brain science, that seeing is not a direct register of what meets our eyes but a fast mental construction that squares sensations with memory and desire:  what we believe and wish reality to be."

How true is this of so many things in our lives?

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Wowzers

Ali rocking his camera and flashes in KC:

and

/

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Dude man

Ali in 3D.  Watching the Krooked viddie.  Back to WA after 10 days in KC.  Guess who didn't sleep much?

Seattle street stuff.  Capitol Hill.

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Floors d'œuvre

Kitty hors d'œuvre....

Why sweep up a spill if they are going to eat it anyway?

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Who knew? update....

"the friend" mentioned in this story was my sister Anne who was living with me in London at the time and who has a much better memory than me.  Thank you, Anne!

Anne at the Rosewood Cafe, Tacoma WA, late October 2010

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Who knew?

When I bought The Dollhouse Townhouse, located at the corner of Pearl and Ruby Street (really truly) I was smitten with all of it:  new, never lived in, good level of finish, nice detailing, a homey feeling, and last but not least, a view of the Puget Sound (water!! why I moved here!) and the Cascade mountains beyond to the east (mountains!  another reason why I moved here!!)

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What I didn't realize until New Year's Eve was that I have fallen into a pretty sweet situation.  Here's the thing.  I love fireworks.  Love them passionately beyond reason.  I don't like setting them off; I like the huge sky displays.  This love of fireworks led me to Hyde Park in London, Tuesday July 28th,1981, on the eve of Charles and Diana's wedding.  I went in spite of a growing dislike of large crowds, and sat with a friend on a blanket and watched the display which was lavish and amazing.  We sat at the edge of the park, as I thought it would be easier to exit and get home once the event was over.  Before the last wisp of gunpowder disappeared, thousands of people began streaming toward the bus stops and Tube (Underground) stations to go home.  It was late, and there weren't that many trains or buses running.  Or perhaps the system was just overwhelmed by the hundreds of thousands of people  trying to get home.  

A long walk to the tube, thousands of people struggling to get onto the trains, a hot July night and then....  the train stopped in the Tube.  It was packed with people and I think that if anyone had fainted from the heat, they would have remained standing due to crowds.  This was not an unusual occurrence:  sometimes an engine would break down, or there would be "something on the tracks" (read: a jumper) etc. In London in 1981, the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA) was coming off of a very active few years on the "mainland" (thanks BBC for the verbiage!)  1981 was a very turbulent year:  there were the Brixton and Liverpool race riots (due to the "sus" law), Reagan had been shot, there were the hunger strikes by IRA prisoners in Ireland, (http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/may/12/newsid_2550000/2550725.stm), the Queen was shot at, the Bangladeshi president was assassinated and in December 1980 John Lennon was shot and killed.  And by the end of 1981, even the BBC was reporting that "a mystery disease kills homosexuals."  http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/december/10/newsid_4020000/4020391.stm  But I digress.

Working in Central London I had to travel on the Tube to work. I can remember at least 5 different times where stations I was either going into or coming out of heard an announcement over the loudspeakers "Please walk to the nearest exit and leave the station."  The first time I heard it, I was amused and puzzled, got out and walked on to work.  Later that day on the news it was disclosed that  there was a bomb threat that had been called into that station.  Going forward, if I heard an announcement, I hustled.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_terrorist_incidents_in_London#cite_note-10

Given that mindset, on this hot July night, I was worried that there had been an "incident."  After a very sweaty 30 minutes, the train jerked, and slowly started up.  Nothing was amiss and that was that.  

What's the punchline here?  Lina and Ali - you always knew I wasn't a big fan of large crowds, phobic, even.  This is the reason why.

ANYWAY.  Happy New Year from your Mum, aka Debbie Downer, Historian.

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