Happy 2016 to you and to me!
2016 has gotten off to a great start!
Ralf & Jim invited to us to a New Year's Eve Dinner and Reykjavik New Year's toast--celebrate New Year in Iceland time--9 pm, then wrap up at 10. It's everything I've ever wanted. Good friends. Dress up a little (boots and cute dress, of course). Great food. Elegant wine. Sparkling conversation. Warm fireplace. Christmas trees and Christmas music. Then home in bed in jammies by midnight! Unfortunately, Larry came down with a cold and didn't want to pass it along to the other guests, so he had to sit this one out. Sweetheart he is, however, wanted to drive me so that I could enjoy a little wine and get home safely. (This was 13 months into not drinking, and I was looking forward to some nice wine.)
Ralf & Jim promised just a quick, casual meal as they both had to work that day. Quick casual for them is of course six kinds of artisan cheeses that take 10 minutes each to explain, a beautiful harvest salad with apples and nuts, sweet sauerkraut, a beautiful pork roast, "piggy-figgies"--tender figs wrapped in locally sourced thick bacon, mashed potatoes, and a beautiful assortment of cookies, biscotti, and coffees, and of course the luscious wines and champagne.
I missed Larry but I had a wonderful time. I love small, semi-formal, friendly and festive affairs that start and end early. I love Ralf & Jim! Also in attendance was a fascinating woman from Jim's church who was the first female vice squad police officer in Indianapolis, starting back in the mid-1970s.
Ralf & Jim packed a to-go box for Larry, and were both regretful that he could not attend and appreciative that he chose not to infect them. He's polite that way. I just hate it when someone sick shows up to work or a an outing. They complain about seeing sick and then get you sick in the process. Leave your germs at home!
I was hosting a temporary roommate from India namedRavi, and things were going fine with that. Then he asked if his girlfriend could join, and I had misgivings and told him no, and he kept begging, and I kept demurring, and he begged again, and finally I agreed. Should have stuck with "no." They were a pain in the ass. She hogged the kitchen at all hours, sometimes making elaborate meals at 10 pm. They also complained a little. Then they asked to renew, and I said, "no." I was really happy the day they left! I think I even did a happy dance. At any rate, their short stay with me paid my mortgage and utilities for the month and made me appreciate my space and my kitchen.
I also had another short-term roommate from China who moved in January 1. She, however, is low maintenance. She is set to leave on Feb 11, but I hope she stays longer as this is very easy money for me.
On New Year's Eve I got a call from my firm that they were still waiting to hear if my project would be extended past January 21. As we spoke, I suddenly felt confident to ask for the raise I've been meaning to request for two years on now. I felt really happy that I asked. It seemed like a great way to end the year.
The first week of January, they called me back to inform me that my contract was extended much longer than the three months they expected, that my boss said I was doing a fantastic job and didn't want to lose me, and that my raise went through! I called Larry to tell him the wonderful news, and a few hours later, I got a call from reception (Kim, one of two people who greet me everyday at the Office of Soulless Vacuums) that I had a delivery. He sent a beautiful bouquet!
I wish I had known sooner that my boss held me in such high esteem. I think I still suffer boss PTSD from my previous job. By the way, I had dinner with one of my former colleagues who is still there, and she is not very happy. In fact, she was under such tremendous stress that she wound up in the hospital for two weeks with a heart condition. PTSD boss, who gave her the condition, didn't even go visit her. I am so glad I got out of there when I did even though at the time it really felt like a punch in the gut.
Anyway, I felt myself feeling better about my job and my work--both put a spring back in my step!
I also got to catch up with some friends early in the year--sushi with Dave, The Aristocrat with Andre, Indian food with Amanda, a play and dinner with Chrissy.
First weekend of January was Gift Card Redemption weekend! First up, Dance Kaleidoscope at the IRT--always entertaining, although this particular program was our least favorite. Next day was a massage at Woodhouse spa, complete with luxuriating in essential oils and fluffy robes. Then a little home furnishing shopping. Then dinner at Season's 52. Then a movie--we saw Creed, which was pretty good--no actually it was really good. Very spirit lifting. Then we saw my friend Tristan direct and star in a local play at IndyFringe theater.
The next weekend I started another phase of my home improvement projects: my bedroom! I finally made good on a New Year's resolution from 2008 and painted! I had forgotten the trials and tribulations of trying to paint a 15-foot angled ceiling. It took all weekend but I had fun! I even rearranged the furniture and really like the new look. I'm still getting used to the smoky plum walls, but I love the accent walls--aquamarine.
I went shopping the next week to dress up the walls and reinvent the space, using years-old giftcards. I think it will look great! Once I painted it, I realized that the furniture needed to lose the honey oak color and that the trim would also need to be repainted. Kind of a can of worms, but I'll take it one task at a time until it's done, and then it will be out of style, and I can start all over again.
We saw a friend in a play Becoming Dr. Ruth, which is a great piece on the life Dr. Ruth. Very moving and funny! We went out with Chrissy and some of her friends afterwards at Binkley's. The next night I surprised Larry with tickets to a comedy tour called Sick of Stupid Comedy Tour featuring intelligent, hilarious, and frustrated-with-Conservative-America Southern comedians--Stewart Huff (our friend, actually!), Cliff Cash, and Tom Simmons. It was our first time checking out Morty's Comedy Joint, and the show was hilarious! Just what I needed after a long weekend of painting and cleaning up paint.
The next weekend I decided to tackle the un-honey-oaking of my otherwise beautiful bedroom suite. I chose a white-wash style, which turned out to be harder than it looks, and wound up just painting white with some aquamarine accents. It now looks crisp and clean. And now I notice that the trim and light plate switches must also be updated from cream to white.
We also went to a play at the IRT called The Mystery of Irma Vep, which was really really stupid and was supposed to be but at least was well done stupid. People like Stupid. Theater was packed.
I haven't done much reading this month, other than tons of magazines and tutorials on DIY projects. I guess that's still learning and reading--and I love it--but next month I really want to get into the great books that Larry got me for Christmas (Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee, All the Light We Cannot See" by Anthony Doerr) plus all the titles waiting for me on my Kindle.
Things are going well for me. On days when I feel like I might want to be lazy or give into the doldrums or a bit of listlessness, I manage to go for a walk, make some good food, work on some projects, and work-out in my home gym. (I'm holding on to what I learned, Heather!)
Showing posts with label IRT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IRT. Show all posts
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Deep Woods Motown, Tunnel Glasses, and the Riff Raff that signed RFRA in Indiana
3/12/2015
Today I felt a stirring of unintentional joy as I walked into the office. I arrived before sunrise, wearing a jacket instead of winter coat, and the birds were singing up a storm, despite the pending early-spring storm. I felt my mouth form into a half-smile that Thicht Nhat Hanh has been teaching me to will at the onset of good and bad experiences, although this one came on its own.
I took this as a sign that, if I allow or will it, things are going to look up for me. Thus I decided to write on this impulsive half-smile day as, I admit, there have been few these past five months.
Hearing birds sing always cheers me up. I think it takes me back to the sound stage of my childhood, rural, wooded Michigan:
Wrens, blue jays, cardinals, Bob Whites, swallows, robins, and my favorite, the red-winged blackbird provided a concert every morning. If I hadn't lived in an old farm house, then I would have never known the delight of this symphony, because it would have been drowned out behind closed windows and the hum of an air conditioner. Along with that sweltering heat and dripping sweat came the sweetest sounds my life has known.
First off, spring is nearly here. Here in central Indiana, we didn't get a nasty winter--just a long one. I think I shoveled my driveway three or four times total. I love the beauty of Winter (as I've said far too many times), but I'm never sorry to see her go the way I am when Summer goes.
I got a temporary roommate last month named Shannon. He's here every Mon-Thur night and goes back to Louisville on weekends. He's a good roommate. He's married, professional, and studies meditation and Tai-Chi. I've had to grow accustomed to sharing my living space, but I think it's been good for me.
The truth is, I love living alone, and I think I've always been a loner, preferring the company of myself or a single mate. I get used to doing what I want when I want. I love that, but I also need to stay flexible, and this helps me. The rent money is also paying my mortgage for about half the year, and that is money I'll need to install new windows and make some other updates in the house. I know that sounds boring, but I'm committed to blooming where I am and making my current house my dream house.
Life chugs along. I don't spend enough time noticing the small stuff, which is why I started this blog in the first place.
Work has once again been staking its claim on my nights and weekends, and it got a bit overwhelming, but I think things will calm down a while.
We saw another great play at the IRT--The Giver, originally a children's book but the themes are so compelling that it's drifted across the YA line. The theater was packed and once again, we were blown over by the talent on the stage, especially by that of the principal child actors.
I never read the book, but the play was arresting and in its own way, beautiful. It was one of those plays that stay with you long after the curtain drops. They cast The Giver with David Anderson, a local professional African American actor--probably my favorite. I really liked this choice, a departure from the book and screen version.
David Anderson, IRT
I finally managed to reciprocate an invite to Ralf & Jim for dinner after they had us over numerous times over the past several months, and it went smashingly well! I tried all new recipes, trying to keep up with my 100 new recipe goal. (I'm way behind.)
I tried new recipes and made up some of my own, and I am so happy to say that dinner was a success. They raved about it, which is no easy feat as they are gourmet chefs in their own right. It was good for me to put myself out there and try all new things. I just love creating menus and cooking for friends! I need to get back to this act of giving back!
Menu:
I should have taken pictures, but I get so busy and focused ,and then there's always my mandatory breakdown--"I can't do this! Nothing is turning out! They will never want to come again!" My goal is to make that my last self-defeating breakdown. It's just not how I want to be. I want to say this: "If it doesn't turn out, we will have a good laugh and order Chinese."
3/31/2015
March might be my least favorite month. It's ugly and cold and seems to last forever, the 31 days and all. The snow has melted and the trees are bare, and all you see everywhere is trash because people in this city are PIGS.
New goal: remember that it's the month before my favorite month, and to find something good about it. I will have to think on that. Maybe I will make it "Create something special indoors" month.
I had a great time in the kitchen this month. I added to my list a pub menu, brunch items, desserts, and dinners.
One Friday I was craving pub food but didn't feel like going out in the cold nasty weather to wait for a table at a crowded noisy restaurant. Hence, I introduced Pub Night, featuring Hot Honey Wings and Big Ol Nachos. What a huge hit!
For brunch I created bird's nest eggs (a "muffin" of hashbrowns with an egg cooked on top) and a fabulous french toast bake.
Dinner items included Honey Lime Braised salmon, beef and bean burritos with pico de gallo, and chicken fettuccine Alfredo.
Desert included a delicious chocolate cherry cake.
I have pictures of some of this stuff.
So for March, I count something like thirteen new dishes. Still a bit behind, but onward!
I had a few more guests in my artist's hostel in addition to Shannon.
Lachezar from Bulgaria by way of San Antonio, a cellist who was in the running for the principal chair at Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, stayed a few nights this month. What a treat to have live cello music in my home!
We took in another fantastic play at IRT--What I Learned in Paris by Pearl Cleage. Once again IRT killed it by picking a fabulous script, which initially seemed like it would be a serious drama about civil rights but turned out to be a hilarious and touching comedy romance. Once again, the cast absolutely nails it with perfect performances. Once again, the stage work, lighting, and sound hit a home run. Between scenes, the audience was humming along to the Zeitgeist of 70s soul--Al Green, Earth Wind & Fire, Marvin Gaye. I like to call this era of music Lunchbox Motown--all these classic hits, like the birds outside my bedroom window, who created the soundtrack of my childhood.
****My childhood sounded like Deep Woods Motown.*****
Speaking of the audience, the truth is I've never seen a live theater performance of an all-black cast and a mostly-black audience. I got to hear one of my favorite sayings of all time about 100 times throughout the performance "mmm-hmmm...." Lots of people dressed in full 70s regalia pantsuits and all, making it one of the best nights of theater we've ever had.
Afterwards, there was a VIP party for opening night in the cabaret bar--a band, dancing, champagne, appetizers, and miniature cakes. After while the cast came out and danced with the revelers. They also let us tour the set and back stage, which was really fun.
The next week we hit up the next installment of Dance Kaleidoscope: Ray & Ella, featuring the music of Ray Charles and Ella Fitgerald. You know all that stuff I said about the IRT killing it. Same thing for DK and David Hochoy! Man we had a blast, and yes, we were again treated to champagne afterwards.
I'm still not drinking by the way. I did have champagne as a wonderful treat, but I've yet to pour myself a glass of anything since December.
Earl and family came through last Sunday on their way to Mammoth Cave. Not that my approval means zip, but I will say "I approve" of how they are bringing up their kids. They're kind, engaged, intelligent, polite, friendly, and fun. I attribute this to hard work on Earl and Lori's part. They don't give in to the many demands that so many kids place on their parents, namely the demand for all manner of phones and hand held electronic devices and the demand to go to Disney world and on cruises. Instead they suggest they read books, play games, go sledding and biking. They take them skiing and snowmobiling and canoeing and camping. For spring break they took them to a national park. Even Larry mentioned that he wished his grand kids were brought up so well and with such manners.
They could only stay a couple of hours, so we took them Holliday Park. We played tag on the huge and complex miniature city of a jungle gym where I realized that despite training every day, I am NOT in good shape! Afterwards we hit the trails, playing hide and seek and various forest games. I thought it would be fun to go under the aqueduct, forgetting until we arrived that it was covered in graffiti.
New rant: graffiti vandals. They used to use their own language to destroy public property. Now these fools are so lazy that they are using English, and spelling everything wrong, except for "F*ck." There were several depictions of that word, so to distract the kids, I initiated some games to distract them from the unimaginative vulgar scrawling. We did the "sideways crab" crab race and later "the tunnel walk" where you had to create tunnels around your eyes so your peripheral vision would not be engaged--because diagonal alpha rays were bouncing off the arch and could render us blind to all the good things in life.
Note to self---invent these glasses!
Tomorrow starts my favorite month of the year.
Another Rant:
This week the stupid Governor of Indiana elected by stupid religious republicans put Indiana back about sixty years by signing a law that would effectively allow businesses to discriminate against LGBT persons. Before he signed this bill, he received pleas from various large employers, former mayors, and conferences not to pass this bill as it would mean the companies and conferences would have to find another place to do business--a place where it's not lawful to discriminate based on religion and bigotry.
More on this later.
Today I felt a stirring of unintentional joy as I walked into the office. I arrived before sunrise, wearing a jacket instead of winter coat, and the birds were singing up a storm, despite the pending early-spring storm. I felt my mouth form into a half-smile that Thicht Nhat Hanh has been teaching me to will at the onset of good and bad experiences, although this one came on its own.
I took this as a sign that, if I allow or will it, things are going to look up for me. Thus I decided to write on this impulsive half-smile day as, I admit, there have been few these past five months.
Hearing birds sing always cheers me up. I think it takes me back to the sound stage of my childhood, rural, wooded Michigan:
Wrens, blue jays, cardinals, Bob Whites, swallows, robins, and my favorite, the red-winged blackbird provided a concert every morning. If I hadn't lived in an old farm house, then I would have never known the delight of this symphony, because it would have been drowned out behind closed windows and the hum of an air conditioner. Along with that sweltering heat and dripping sweat came the sweetest sounds my life has known.
First off, spring is nearly here. Here in central Indiana, we didn't get a nasty winter--just a long one. I think I shoveled my driveway three or four times total. I love the beauty of Winter (as I've said far too many times), but I'm never sorry to see her go the way I am when Summer goes.
I got a temporary roommate last month named Shannon. He's here every Mon-Thur night and goes back to Louisville on weekends. He's a good roommate. He's married, professional, and studies meditation and Tai-Chi. I've had to grow accustomed to sharing my living space, but I think it's been good for me.
The truth is, I love living alone, and I think I've always been a loner, preferring the company of myself or a single mate. I get used to doing what I want when I want. I love that, but I also need to stay flexible, and this helps me. The rent money is also paying my mortgage for about half the year, and that is money I'll need to install new windows and make some other updates in the house. I know that sounds boring, but I'm committed to blooming where I am and making my current house my dream house.
Life chugs along. I don't spend enough time noticing the small stuff, which is why I started this blog in the first place.
Work has once again been staking its claim on my nights and weekends, and it got a bit overwhelming, but I think things will calm down a while.
We saw another great play at the IRT--The Giver, originally a children's book but the themes are so compelling that it's drifted across the YA line. The theater was packed and once again, we were blown over by the talent on the stage, especially by that of the principal child actors.
I never read the book, but the play was arresting and in its own way, beautiful. It was one of those plays that stay with you long after the curtain drops. They cast The Giver with David Anderson, a local professional African American actor--probably my favorite. I really liked this choice, a departure from the book and screen version.
David Anderson, IRT
I finally managed to reciprocate an invite to Ralf & Jim for dinner after they had us over numerous times over the past several months, and it went smashingly well! I tried all new recipes, trying to keep up with my 100 new recipe goal. (I'm way behind.)
I tried new recipes and made up some of my own, and I am so happy to say that dinner was a success. They raved about it, which is no easy feat as they are gourmet chefs in their own right. It was good for me to put myself out there and try all new things. I just love creating menus and cooking for friends! I need to get back to this act of giving back!
Menu:
- Fire Roasted Tomato and Red Pepper Bisque with Smoked Gouda
- Carpese salad with buffalo mozzarella and arugula and honey-balsamic vinegar reduction
- Rosemary focaccia bread
- Spinach and sausage lasagna
- Cherry tart with lattice crust (okay, pie--I couldn't make tarts because I don't have something called ramekins, which are little individual custard cups or something.)
- Wine: Carmenere (which I didn't drink)
I should have taken pictures, but I get so busy and focused ,and then there's always my mandatory breakdown--"I can't do this! Nothing is turning out! They will never want to come again!" My goal is to make that my last self-defeating breakdown. It's just not how I want to be. I want to say this: "If it doesn't turn out, we will have a good laugh and order Chinese."
3/31/2015
March might be my least favorite month. It's ugly and cold and seems to last forever, the 31 days and all. The snow has melted and the trees are bare, and all you see everywhere is trash because people in this city are PIGS.
New goal: remember that it's the month before my favorite month, and to find something good about it. I will have to think on that. Maybe I will make it "Create something special indoors" month.
I had a great time in the kitchen this month. I added to my list a pub menu, brunch items, desserts, and dinners.
One Friday I was craving pub food but didn't feel like going out in the cold nasty weather to wait for a table at a crowded noisy restaurant. Hence, I introduced Pub Night, featuring Hot Honey Wings and Big Ol Nachos. What a huge hit!
For brunch I created bird's nest eggs (a "muffin" of hashbrowns with an egg cooked on top) and a fabulous french toast bake.
Dinner items included Honey Lime Braised salmon, beef and bean burritos with pico de gallo, and chicken fettuccine Alfredo.
Desert included a delicious chocolate cherry cake.
I have pictures of some of this stuff.
So for March, I count something like thirteen new dishes. Still a bit behind, but onward!
I had a few more guests in my artist's hostel in addition to Shannon.
Lachezar from Bulgaria by way of San Antonio, a cellist who was in the running for the principal chair at Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra, stayed a few nights this month. What a treat to have live cello music in my home!
We took in another fantastic play at IRT--What I Learned in Paris by Pearl Cleage. Once again IRT killed it by picking a fabulous script, which initially seemed like it would be a serious drama about civil rights but turned out to be a hilarious and touching comedy romance. Once again, the cast absolutely nails it with perfect performances. Once again, the stage work, lighting, and sound hit a home run. Between scenes, the audience was humming along to the Zeitgeist of 70s soul--Al Green, Earth Wind & Fire, Marvin Gaye. I like to call this era of music Lunchbox Motown--all these classic hits, like the birds outside my bedroom window, who created the soundtrack of my childhood.
****My childhood sounded like Deep Woods Motown.*****
Speaking of the audience, the truth is I've never seen a live theater performance of an all-black cast and a mostly-black audience. I got to hear one of my favorite sayings of all time about 100 times throughout the performance "mmm-hmmm...." Lots of people dressed in full 70s regalia pantsuits and all, making it one of the best nights of theater we've ever had.
Afterwards, there was a VIP party for opening night in the cabaret bar--a band, dancing, champagne, appetizers, and miniature cakes. After while the cast came out and danced with the revelers. They also let us tour the set and back stage, which was really fun.
The next week we hit up the next installment of Dance Kaleidoscope: Ray & Ella, featuring the music of Ray Charles and Ella Fitgerald. You know all that stuff I said about the IRT killing it. Same thing for DK and David Hochoy! Man we had a blast, and yes, we were again treated to champagne afterwards.
I'm still not drinking by the way. I did have champagne as a wonderful treat, but I've yet to pour myself a glass of anything since December.
Earl and family came through last Sunday on their way to Mammoth Cave. Not that my approval means zip, but I will say "I approve" of how they are bringing up their kids. They're kind, engaged, intelligent, polite, friendly, and fun. I attribute this to hard work on Earl and Lori's part. They don't give in to the many demands that so many kids place on their parents, namely the demand for all manner of phones and hand held electronic devices and the demand to go to Disney world and on cruises. Instead they suggest they read books, play games, go sledding and biking. They take them skiing and snowmobiling and canoeing and camping. For spring break they took them to a national park. Even Larry mentioned that he wished his grand kids were brought up so well and with such manners.
They could only stay a couple of hours, so we took them Holliday Park. We played tag on the huge and complex miniature city of a jungle gym where I realized that despite training every day, I am NOT in good shape! Afterwards we hit the trails, playing hide and seek and various forest games. I thought it would be fun to go under the aqueduct, forgetting until we arrived that it was covered in graffiti.
New rant: graffiti vandals. They used to use their own language to destroy public property. Now these fools are so lazy that they are using English, and spelling everything wrong, except for "F*ck." There were several depictions of that word, so to distract the kids, I initiated some games to distract them from the unimaginative vulgar scrawling. We did the "sideways crab" crab race and later "the tunnel walk" where you had to create tunnels around your eyes so your peripheral vision would not be engaged--because diagonal alpha rays were bouncing off the arch and could render us blind to all the good things in life.
Note to self---invent these glasses!
Tomorrow starts my favorite month of the year.
Another Rant:
This week the stupid Governor of Indiana elected by stupid religious republicans put Indiana back about sixty years by signing a law that would effectively allow businesses to discriminate against LGBT persons. Before he signed this bill, he received pleas from various large employers, former mayors, and conferences not to pass this bill as it would mean the companies and conferences would have to find another place to do business--a place where it's not lawful to discriminate based on religion and bigotry.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
January's Newness Juice
January, despite the drudgery of its weather and shortened daylight hours, is for many a time of hope and renewal, no doubt based on the ridiculous resolutions that so many of us feel a compunction to verbalize. Resolutions notwithstanding, I often find that January is mentally one of my best months, even though, truth be told, I really don't make any changes whatsoever. I just *think* about the changes that I could effect in a brand new year with the end result being a *brand new me.*
Just a few more days of this "clean slate" month, so I thought I'd check in my Plan for 2015 before my Newness juice runs out.
Learn my camera/Photo365
I have taken a whopping two photographs. One Sunday morning, the sun sparkled like tiny glinting diamonds on my wine bottle borders in my back yard, so I went outside to shoot the brilliance. Brilliance was not achieved. I could not capture that frosty-glinty beauty on film.
I have a few books from the library that teach me to use my Canon Rebel. What I haven't done is read these books. I got a new computer over a year ago, one that has the OS and RAM to accommodate CD downloads. My camera came with three of these discs, and I finally downloaded them. Well one of them. Well, I couldn't figure out how exactly to download the contents. It pissed me off, so I decided to go do something else. It is bad that is it only January and I already am penciling in my first goal for 2016, which is to learn this camera. Wait. No, no, no! You bought the camera. You will learn that camera, damn you, damn me, damn it all.
Walk 1,000 miles
I have walked maybe 2.5 miles. I absolutely hate taking walks without Primo, and I don't see that changing. I loved taking hikes and long walks with Primo everyday usually twice per day. Imagine discovering that the one thing you might love and need more than anything--long walks and long hikes--are no longer enjoyable to you and in fact are painful for you. I really don't know what to do. I really need to walk. I need to be doing this daily if for no other reason than to get adequate exercise.
I have considered getting a treadmill for my home gym, something I have scoffed at for years, because why the hell does anyone need a treadmill? Go outside you lazy asses. Am I a lazy ass? Not really. I just don't like going without my Primo. How could I have never realized that it was Primo, not walking, that I loved so much. It was our time together. And now I remember. Primo was such a good dog, so well behaved and predictable. I never made him "heel." I always let him walk out in front of me because he never pulled on the leash, and I never worried that he was trying to be the alpha. When we walked, I looked around and smelled the clean air, but more than anything, I just loved watching him trot. He'd hold his head really high, his ears erect, and he pranced so proudly, as if doing dressage. Now I'm all alone and it feels pointless and all I notice is my bland neighborhood and all the trash that overflowed from the trashcans when the trash pick up service decided not to pick up trash for two weeks--for no reason other than "it snowed."
It feels like a loser thing to do--walk on a treadmill. But it's better than not walking. So what if I'd rather stay indoors and watch a movie or a TED talk while walking than walking alone outdoors bored to death? I don't have to actually tell anyone that I am a loser indoor walker. Okay, I might get a treadmill. I'm not a loser. I'm just lonely, so there, whoever's voice is in my head telling me that I'm coming up short by preferring indoors to out. I don't know who you are, in there, but GTFO. It's my life, and it's my legs getting flabby, not yours. You probably have the perfect body and you probably drink bizarre kale juice for breakfast and you're probably gluten-free and vegan or are trying out that caveman diet. Even if you did watch a dumb show, like Gilmour Girls, you would only talk about the latest TED talk you watched. Yeah, I know who you are. You're my bitchy wannabe alter-ego. Well listen here. I don't think you're me at all. I think you're pretentious. I don't have to listen to you. I'm going to walk on my treadmill and watch the Gilmour Girls on netflix and I'm going to do it in $5 clearance yoga pants from JC Penney that I have mended more than once when the crotch blew out in a Pilates class at my gym.
Try 100 new recipes
I have tried only two, so I am really behind, but here they are:
White Chicken Chili
Maple Glazed Salmon
Read 20 books
I have started five books! But I have finished only one: The Wild Truth, by Carine McCandless, surviving sister of Christopher McCandless whose story of exile in the Alaskan wilderness was immortalized in the book Into the Wild by John Krakauer. Other books I have started but have not yet finished, but knowing my track record probably will not finish because once I pick up a new book while mid paragraph in another book, I rarely finish either. This is because I am a lying, cheating, two- and sometimes three-timing reading bitch. Other books include "Basketball Diaries," by Jim Carroll (I don't really like it. It's a bunch of punks who run the city streets stealing women's purses, little fucks), "The Falcon and the Snowman," "Gone Girl" "Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression."
Read Magazines
I am actually keeping up with this one. I love Psychology Today and National Geographic and have found that much to my surprise I prefer reading something intelligent to reading something purely entertaining, such as typical women's magazines. Also, Oprah is a quality magazine, and I'm taking my treadmill approach to that one, too. The most successful woman, probably ever, has created a magazine to inspire people to become more effective. How could it not be good?
Don't Buy Any Clothes
I haven't purchased any clothing, but the truth is, I need some new shoes. I need new boring work attire shoes.
Paint my bedroom
I have not painted it yet, but I have chosen the colors: Bunchberry and Pewter, by Behr, which is another way of saying Plum and Silver.
Write more fluff blogs (for the sake of writing)
Well, I could do better at being fluffier. I could have easily written about some funny movies we've watched lately. The reason I would write about them at all is because comedies are so rarely funny that when one is funny, it's worth writing about.
Buy all new brand new upscale stainless steel appliances for my newly updated kitchen, which I did all my myself!
This was not on my list, but I did just this, and I am proud of it. I spent the last week of December and the first part of January making cosmetic updates. I stained my cabinets Espresso. I painted my counter tops to resemble granite. (They actually resemble sidewalks on which autumn leaves have been trapped under snow and ice for months, and I like them! It's very me! No one else in the entire world has such a design!) I painted my pantry door red. I painted the walls white. I bought all new switch and outlet plates. I bought knobs and drawer pulls for my cabinets. (Builders from the 90s tried to pass of handle-less as a trendy trend when actually they are just cheap bastards.) All of a sudden my twenty-odd year old appliances in four different colors started to look really ratty. Well, they've looked ratty for awhile, but they worked (except the dishwasher. That hasn't worked in years), so I couldn't justify upgrading. Well, I decided that I work hard and save hard, and I deserve a nice kitchen with nice things, and man do I love it. I can't believe it's my kitchen.
You would think that as part of my Photo365 that I would have taken Before During and After photos of all my work and the big transformation of my favorite room of the house, but no. Once I set my mind to task, nothing deters me.
Working on and creating my new kitchen has been really good for me. The brand new appliances are symbolic more than anything. I'm someone who knows how to do without, that's for sure. And more times than not, I am compelled to not spend any extra cash flow. But when I do decide to spend it, it's usually on something really nice that brings me a lot of satisfaction. I walk in my kitchen, and I can't believe that's my kitchen--it's so nice. And I not only did all the work, I paid for it myself, and in cash!
The worst thing I've done in a very long time, however, was install the hardware for the cabinets. It was a real bitch for real stupid reasons, mostly being that the builders could not use even measurements for length and width or use the same size drawers, and also that my drill broke, and also that I had to use a combination of five measuring rulers and tapes, and just thinking about what a pain in the ass it was is making me mad. Those knobs are never coming off!
Exercise
I come home from work and start immediately working on projects. My exercise routines fell off track but I got back on track yesterday
Watch Lots of TV!
Well, that has never been a goal of mine, but it's exactly what I've been doing, although, I'm not really watching TV. I'm listening to TV while doing projects that require both my hands and all my attention except my ears. I am finding it preferable to music because it holds more interest on a continuum of thoughts longer than hours of 3-minute songs can. When I finish my projects, I love to light the fire, put my feet up, grab a magazine, and then turn on some home improvement shows. Never in a million years would I think that I would allow myself such frivolity, but I like it. The TV helps me work diligently. I've been listening to Gilmour Girls, if you must know. Last night it was Brothers & Sisters, and man that is a dumb show. It somehow gets dumber every season.
Being more in the moment
I've been working on this, and I will tell you a secret: Lorelei Gilmour, fictitious TV character of Gilmour Girls has been my guru. I'm working harder at making myself laugh, when I'm all by myself, by saying really ridiculous things to and about myself and life in general. I laugh even when I'm not that funny. I want to make more dumb jokes to actual people besides myself. This is what Lorelei would do.
Get my ass back out there
I used to be lot more involved with my city. It was really fun. I don't regret that my life has become more home-focused, but I do make myself get out there and remember that I live in a nice place. This weekend we went to the IRT to see the drama "Good People" by David Lindsey-Abaire. This was definitely in our top five of all-time favorites. ("God of Carnage" by Yasmina Reza also stands out.) This was an incredibly complex play. We nearly missed it because of the stupid ass Monster Truck rally at Lucas Oil and the subsequent lack of parking. Other than this play, there were some flat out stupid events in downtown Indy this weekend. We happened to attend the single intelligent thing in the city that night. The theater was half empty because people prefer stupid things over intelligent, thoughtful things.
So I've made some progress on new things but still have to work on some other things, like walking and reading fiction and doing my abs routines. I need to read more fiction to be more balanced.
I need to get back on track with the TED talks. I have been listening to The Moth while I compile some tedious reports at work. I really liked this one, and you can listen here: Lucky Ladies. I want to start listening to a new show called Invisibilia on NPR, but I work for an asshole company and the servers block all streaming, which is quite assholish.
I'm going to update curtains and rods in my house, paint all awful 90s plastic-y gold plated door handles and knobs with Rustoleum rather than replace them altogether, and replace those awful 90s Hollywood style dressing room lights in my bathroom, and maybe even the sinks. If I don't replace the sinks, I might learn how to do the cement overlay, which Pinterest pinners claim can be done for $20.
I'm going to start with making some delicious new dishes with my wonderful new hybrid oven/convection oven.
And we need to make plans for our big trip this year, starting with "where."
Just a few more days of this "clean slate" month, so I thought I'd check in my Plan for 2015 before my Newness juice runs out.
Learn my camera/Photo365
I have taken a whopping two photographs. One Sunday morning, the sun sparkled like tiny glinting diamonds on my wine bottle borders in my back yard, so I went outside to shoot the brilliance. Brilliance was not achieved. I could not capture that frosty-glinty beauty on film.
I have a few books from the library that teach me to use my Canon Rebel. What I haven't done is read these books. I got a new computer over a year ago, one that has the OS and RAM to accommodate CD downloads. My camera came with three of these discs, and I finally downloaded them. Well one of them. Well, I couldn't figure out how exactly to download the contents. It pissed me off, so I decided to go do something else. It is bad that is it only January and I already am penciling in my first goal for 2016, which is to learn this camera. Wait. No, no, no! You bought the camera. You will learn that camera, damn you, damn me, damn it all.
Walk 1,000 miles
I have walked maybe 2.5 miles. I absolutely hate taking walks without Primo, and I don't see that changing. I loved taking hikes and long walks with Primo everyday usually twice per day. Imagine discovering that the one thing you might love and need more than anything--long walks and long hikes--are no longer enjoyable to you and in fact are painful for you. I really don't know what to do. I really need to walk. I need to be doing this daily if for no other reason than to get adequate exercise.
I have considered getting a treadmill for my home gym, something I have scoffed at for years, because why the hell does anyone need a treadmill? Go outside you lazy asses. Am I a lazy ass? Not really. I just don't like going without my Primo. How could I have never realized that it was Primo, not walking, that I loved so much. It was our time together. And now I remember. Primo was such a good dog, so well behaved and predictable. I never made him "heel." I always let him walk out in front of me because he never pulled on the leash, and I never worried that he was trying to be the alpha. When we walked, I looked around and smelled the clean air, but more than anything, I just loved watching him trot. He'd hold his head really high, his ears erect, and he pranced so proudly, as if doing dressage. Now I'm all alone and it feels pointless and all I notice is my bland neighborhood and all the trash that overflowed from the trashcans when the trash pick up service decided not to pick up trash for two weeks--for no reason other than "it snowed."
It feels like a loser thing to do--walk on a treadmill. But it's better than not walking. So what if I'd rather stay indoors and watch a movie or a TED talk while walking than walking alone outdoors bored to death? I don't have to actually tell anyone that I am a loser indoor walker. Okay, I might get a treadmill. I'm not a loser. I'm just lonely, so there, whoever's voice is in my head telling me that I'm coming up short by preferring indoors to out. I don't know who you are, in there, but GTFO. It's my life, and it's my legs getting flabby, not yours. You probably have the perfect body and you probably drink bizarre kale juice for breakfast and you're probably gluten-free and vegan or are trying out that caveman diet. Even if you did watch a dumb show, like Gilmour Girls, you would only talk about the latest TED talk you watched. Yeah, I know who you are. You're my bitchy wannabe alter-ego. Well listen here. I don't think you're me at all. I think you're pretentious. I don't have to listen to you. I'm going to walk on my treadmill and watch the Gilmour Girls on netflix and I'm going to do it in $5 clearance yoga pants from JC Penney that I have mended more than once when the crotch blew out in a Pilates class at my gym.
Try 100 new recipes
I have tried only two, so I am really behind, but here they are:
White Chicken Chili
Maple Glazed Salmon
Read 20 books
I have started five books! But I have finished only one: The Wild Truth, by Carine McCandless, surviving sister of Christopher McCandless whose story of exile in the Alaskan wilderness was immortalized in the book Into the Wild by John Krakauer. Other books I have started but have not yet finished, but knowing my track record probably will not finish because once I pick up a new book while mid paragraph in another book, I rarely finish either. This is because I am a lying, cheating, two- and sometimes three-timing reading bitch. Other books include "Basketball Diaries," by Jim Carroll (I don't really like it. It's a bunch of punks who run the city streets stealing women's purses, little fucks), "The Falcon and the Snowman," "Gone Girl" "Unholy Ghost: Writers on Depression."
Read Magazines
I am actually keeping up with this one. I love Psychology Today and National Geographic and have found that much to my surprise I prefer reading something intelligent to reading something purely entertaining, such as typical women's magazines. Also, Oprah is a quality magazine, and I'm taking my treadmill approach to that one, too. The most successful woman, probably ever, has created a magazine to inspire people to become more effective. How could it not be good?
Don't Buy Any Clothes
I haven't purchased any clothing, but the truth is, I need some new shoes. I need new boring work attire shoes.
Paint my bedroom
I have not painted it yet, but I have chosen the colors: Bunchberry and Pewter, by Behr, which is another way of saying Plum and Silver.
Write more fluff blogs (for the sake of writing)
Well, I could do better at being fluffier. I could have easily written about some funny movies we've watched lately. The reason I would write about them at all is because comedies are so rarely funny that when one is funny, it's worth writing about.
Buy all new brand new upscale stainless steel appliances for my newly updated kitchen, which I did all my myself!
This was not on my list, but I did just this, and I am proud of it. I spent the last week of December and the first part of January making cosmetic updates. I stained my cabinets Espresso. I painted my counter tops to resemble granite. (They actually resemble sidewalks on which autumn leaves have been trapped under snow and ice for months, and I like them! It's very me! No one else in the entire world has such a design!) I painted my pantry door red. I painted the walls white. I bought all new switch and outlet plates. I bought knobs and drawer pulls for my cabinets. (Builders from the 90s tried to pass of handle-less as a trendy trend when actually they are just cheap bastards.) All of a sudden my twenty-odd year old appliances in four different colors started to look really ratty. Well, they've looked ratty for awhile, but they worked (except the dishwasher. That hasn't worked in years), so I couldn't justify upgrading. Well, I decided that I work hard and save hard, and I deserve a nice kitchen with nice things, and man do I love it. I can't believe it's my kitchen.
You would think that as part of my Photo365 that I would have taken Before During and After photos of all my work and the big transformation of my favorite room of the house, but no. Once I set my mind to task, nothing deters me.
Working on and creating my new kitchen has been really good for me. The brand new appliances are symbolic more than anything. I'm someone who knows how to do without, that's for sure. And more times than not, I am compelled to not spend any extra cash flow. But when I do decide to spend it, it's usually on something really nice that brings me a lot of satisfaction. I walk in my kitchen, and I can't believe that's my kitchen--it's so nice. And I not only did all the work, I paid for it myself, and in cash!
The worst thing I've done in a very long time, however, was install the hardware for the cabinets. It was a real bitch for real stupid reasons, mostly being that the builders could not use even measurements for length and width or use the same size drawers, and also that my drill broke, and also that I had to use a combination of five measuring rulers and tapes, and just thinking about what a pain in the ass it was is making me mad. Those knobs are never coming off!
Exercise
I come home from work and start immediately working on projects. My exercise routines fell off track but I got back on track yesterday
Watch Lots of TV!
Well, that has never been a goal of mine, but it's exactly what I've been doing, although, I'm not really watching TV. I'm listening to TV while doing projects that require both my hands and all my attention except my ears. I am finding it preferable to music because it holds more interest on a continuum of thoughts longer than hours of 3-minute songs can. When I finish my projects, I love to light the fire, put my feet up, grab a magazine, and then turn on some home improvement shows. Never in a million years would I think that I would allow myself such frivolity, but I like it. The TV helps me work diligently. I've been listening to Gilmour Girls, if you must know. Last night it was Brothers & Sisters, and man that is a dumb show. It somehow gets dumber every season.
Being more in the moment
I've been working on this, and I will tell you a secret: Lorelei Gilmour, fictitious TV character of Gilmour Girls has been my guru. I'm working harder at making myself laugh, when I'm all by myself, by saying really ridiculous things to and about myself and life in general. I laugh even when I'm not that funny. I want to make more dumb jokes to actual people besides myself. This is what Lorelei would do.
Get my ass back out there
I used to be lot more involved with my city. It was really fun. I don't regret that my life has become more home-focused, but I do make myself get out there and remember that I live in a nice place. This weekend we went to the IRT to see the drama "Good People" by David Lindsey-Abaire. This was definitely in our top five of all-time favorites. ("God of Carnage" by Yasmina Reza also stands out.) This was an incredibly complex play. We nearly missed it because of the stupid ass Monster Truck rally at Lucas Oil and the subsequent lack of parking. Other than this play, there were some flat out stupid events in downtown Indy this weekend. We happened to attend the single intelligent thing in the city that night. The theater was half empty because people prefer stupid things over intelligent, thoughtful things.
So I've made some progress on new things but still have to work on some other things, like walking and reading fiction and doing my abs routines. I need to read more fiction to be more balanced.
I need to get back on track with the TED talks. I have been listening to The Moth while I compile some tedious reports at work. I really liked this one, and you can listen here: Lucky Ladies. I want to start listening to a new show called Invisibilia on NPR, but I work for an asshole company and the servers block all streaming, which is quite assholish.
I'm going to update curtains and rods in my house, paint all awful 90s plastic-y gold plated door handles and knobs with Rustoleum rather than replace them altogether, and replace those awful 90s Hollywood style dressing room lights in my bathroom, and maybe even the sinks. If I don't replace the sinks, I might learn how to do the cement overlay, which Pinterest pinners claim can be done for $20.
I'm going to start with making some delicious new dishes with my wonderful new hybrid oven/convection oven.
And we need to make plans for our big trip this year, starting with "where."
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Groove is in the (He)art
Friday was a close call. Long week. Air that hurts your face when you walk outside. Dark by 6 p.m. Treacherous pothole night driving. At home, comfy purple couch, down throw blanket. Groovy lava lamp that fills the room with warm light. An impressive Netflix streaming queue. And junk food cravings.
The night seemed to have hiber-eat written all over it, and while I was desperately trying to justify couchpotatoist behavior, I came across a new event at the IMA (Indianapolis Museum of Art): Final Fridays.
First Friday is a tradition I had enjoyed for many years. It didn't matter if I was hanging with a friend, meeting up with a group, or going solo. When it first started, you could catch free shuttle buses all around town to the various galleries, most of which offered wine and beer for a donation. Some had live music, lectures, slide shows, and films.
But, and I apologize for the broken record-edness, like a lot of other great things in this town, First Fridays might as well be called "Another Great Event that Became a Family Event." I love your kids, honest I do. I love it that they have no interest in art and instead run bat shit crazy all over the galleries--and that you are here actually to catch up with your friends, not to watch your children or look at art. I love it that you have a double wide stroller that you use as a weapon to get through throngs of people who are trying to study paintings and sculptures. I love it that you dump off vans of unruly teenagers at these galleries where they do nothing but clog the halls and constantly bump into you while they're text walking and flank every exit where they stand and smoke and text and don't move out of the way. I love it that the galleries are open on Saturdays for Family Days, and instead you go on Friday nights and then complain about galleries serving wine and beer "in a family atmosphere."
I don't love it. Enroll your kids in art classes. Take them to galleries, but for God's sake, read them some Little House at night and remind them of the golden rule, will you?
I haven't been to First Friday in over a year. I miss it terribly, but every time a friend goes, they say the same thing: You can't even walk in to half the galleries because they're crawling with little kids who are crawling all over the floors.
But Final Friday was something new, and the great thing about trying something new is that it won't have had a chance to catch on with the masses yet.
To compare, galleries feature local art by local, contemporary artists, usually in storefronts or lofts, with the emphasis on buying art.
The IMA is one of the ten oldest and biggest museums in the country, and sits on 135 wooded acres smack-dab in the middle of town on the beautiful canal. Its campus boasts world-class gardens, a nature park, and a historic mansion, as well as a network of biking and hiking trails. The museum itself houses over 54,000 works spanning 5,000 years. The IMA is a cultural gem to a city like Indianapolis, and some wonderful people keep it vibrant, relevant, and best of all accessible.
But.
It's a museum. Things are housed under glass. Behind velvet ropes. Guarded by security.
That's a good thing for precious works of art, but how could such a place host an interactive, festive atmosphere?
I just had to see for myself. I called my partner, suggested the outing, and for fun I got dressed up, complete with tall skinny boots and a faux fur coat.
With a line-up like this, how could we go wrong?
7:30 pm » Take a Slightly Naughty Tour
Voyeurism: Scene through the Windows at the IMA
The eyes are the windows of the soul, so they say. Peek through some windows and discover what the artists found so fascinating.
8 pm » Express Yourself! The Exquisite Corpse
Your Line or Mine? Surrealist artists exploited the notion of chance by making collective collage images called the cadavre exquis (or exquisite corpse). Add your own marks, lines, and shapes to a community canvas, and explore the unexpected in an exquisite corpse drawing activity. Prepare to be surprised or shocked at the outcome.
8:30 pm » Final Fridays Music Series: Kaleidoscope Jukebox
The music emitting from this jukebox takes you on a kaleidoscopic journey through the past, present and future, hinting at dub, hip hop, downtempo, soul, funk, latin, and jazz.
How many times have I stared at the art and pondered it or just quickly walked by? A docent led us on a tour, offering us insights on the artists, the times, and probed us for what we saw in the paintings. The IMA is home to priceless works by O'Keeffe, Gauguin, Mahler, Seurat, Matisse, Cezanne, and countless others. It has a gallery devoted specifically to Hoosier artists, which I should add, was some of the best in the museum. She offered back stories about how artists came to study, whom they loved, and whom they scorned. Van Gogh's falling out with Gauguin caused him such distress that he was hospitalized for years. That one really struck me, as a falling out with a friend once put me back a night or two. It helped me put it into perspective, reminding me that we're all human. I looked around at all the amazing art, my partner, with whom I was so happy to share the event, and and the city lights out the windows, and something like electricity started pulsing through me.
I looked around the group of people assembled. There were college students. Senior citizens. A 40+ singles group. A farmer. A Marine in uniform. A man in a top hat and cape.
And I'm there. I'm present. I showed up. I observed. I was part of it.
Art is for everyone who will take the time. I found paintings that nearly moved me to tears. I found some whose beauty made me smile wide. Some that made me ponder about the future and past. And in one case, one I would have happily jumped into and lived inside happily ever after.
After the tours, we headed to the piazza and bought some Chilean wine and local cheese, and the next thing I know, one by one, we're surrounded by people we know. I thought about all the times over the past year or two that I've felt I don't belong here--no family, no childhood, adolescent or even early-adult friends, and suddenly I realized that what I have here in Indy is my own community of people, and if it's okay to say, it's a community of people of whom I'm quite proud--photographers, film makers, publishers, and lovers of art and nature, travelers of time and space, and above all friendly faces.
And in my joy and gratitude, I realized something else. Something wasn't bothering me. Or rather, someone. A person I had dated a few years previous was there, too, not-so-subtly encroaching on my personal space, trying to make his presence known. It's not the first time he has done this out in public, and while it's never pleasant, it has never ruined my night. I think we all have one ex, whom, at least in the immediate months following a break-up, has power to turn a good night sour, but this person never had that power. But in the past, I would simply move on and remove myself from the shared environs. But this night was different. Something about this night made me stake out my ground. I had people here. A history. Electricity. I was wanted here.
There was music. The inimitable DJ Kaleidoscope Jukebox was spinning!
I took the dance floor, not knowing a soul.
The DJ was playing a sort of acid groove funk mix, the kind of music I might play if making a film about amoebas. The music sounded like my lava lamp come to life.
And I came to life. My partner did not wish to dance, and I went it alone. Suddenly, various friends and a cast of characters from my loose knit community joined me--a tattoo-covered hippie chick, the farmer with diamond stud earring, my friends, and yes, some kids. Yes, kids.
Kids. Kids were there. They were dancing with me. They were being present with me. Their parents smiled and watched, and they asked me to twirl them and spin them, and I did. To me, they were part of the art of life. Young and old, strangers and friends coming together in dance.
The encroaching ex took to the floor too. He danced next to me maybe five minutes, about as long as it took him to figure out that he wasn't bothering me.
I couldn't be bothered, because the groove was in my heart.
I showed up.
We closed the place. 11 pm, lights up, and we walked back into the cold night, snowflakes dancing above in street lights, already looking forward to cozying up on the couch in the light of my lava lamp, completely smitten with our terrific Friday night in a pretty terrific city in a known crappy month!
The escalators
This painting takes up half the wall and depicts
a bustling 1800s Indy
I love this one.
Adults at the art table.
At Final Friday they would have liked Belly Dancers
and free weed.
For Saturday, I had tickets to the Indiana Repertory Theater (IRT) to see Sondheim's A Little Night Music. I won the tickets to this prestigious fully professional theater by correctly answering a trivia question online. When I picked up the tickets, I noticed they were vouchers for any show of the season. A wonderful idea crossed my mind.
It's no secret that I don't like musicals. They are long and tedious and dippy.
Playing in the smaller theater was a play that I knew my baseball-loving partner would love: Jackie & Me by Steven Dietz, which was based on the best-selling children's book by Dan Gutman, is a sort of fantasy based on Jackie Robinson's rookie year with the Dodgers.
In present day, a twelve-year old boy who is constantly taunted on the baseball field is magically transported to 1947 Brooklyn, where he would witness the first African American to play for Major League Baseball and to become Rookie of the Year.
It was a beautiful story, tidily told--90 tight minutes of action, dialog, and swift pacing. The acting was stupendous, and by the end, we were both laughing tears of joy. We stayed for the actor/director talk-back.
I was dressed up for a night of theater. I figured two nights of snappy dressing in the dead of winter was good for me, and I chose a long sweater dress, a thin belt, black hose, tall boots, a purple hat, and my super cute black trench coat. We were out and about on the town, and after the show, we stopped for dinner at a cozy Italian place called Lorenzos.
Indy has this great tradition called Devour Downtown in which all the restaurants feature special fixed-price menus. It's a great way to experience some fine dining that you might not normally make room for in your budget.
I'm all for living within my means, traveling on a budget, and watching my spending. A very easy way to control spending is to eat many meals at home. I never eat fast food when I can make something quickly, and if given the option for a chain restaurant, I typically take a pass, preferring to save the occasion for something nice.
With a candle on the table, a split of wine, and an elegant menu, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement and made a night of fine theater and fine dining. I guess we could do it more often, but it would be at the cost of other events, and I think it's truly more fun to do it when it's a treat.
Some weekends can be a real treat.
But you gotta show up.
Hiber-eating can wait for a Tue or Wed, but only after I've done a class or two at the gym and done some writing.
January: you were good to me.
February: Bring it!
"Groove is in the Heart" by Dee-Lite, circa....90?
Try not to dance! Try it!
The night seemed to have hiber-eat written all over it, and while I was desperately trying to justify couchpotatoist behavior, I came across a new event at the IMA (Indianapolis Museum of Art): Final Fridays.
First Friday is a tradition I had enjoyed for many years. It didn't matter if I was hanging with a friend, meeting up with a group, or going solo. When it first started, you could catch free shuttle buses all around town to the various galleries, most of which offered wine and beer for a donation. Some had live music, lectures, slide shows, and films.
But, and I apologize for the broken record-edness, like a lot of other great things in this town, First Fridays might as well be called "Another Great Event that Became a Family Event." I love your kids, honest I do. I love it that they have no interest in art and instead run bat shit crazy all over the galleries--and that you are here actually to catch up with your friends, not to watch your children or look at art. I love it that you have a double wide stroller that you use as a weapon to get through throngs of people who are trying to study paintings and sculptures. I love it that you dump off vans of unruly teenagers at these galleries where they do nothing but clog the halls and constantly bump into you while they're text walking and flank every exit where they stand and smoke and text and don't move out of the way. I love it that the galleries are open on Saturdays for Family Days, and instead you go on Friday nights and then complain about galleries serving wine and beer "in a family atmosphere."
I don't love it. Enroll your kids in art classes. Take them to galleries, but for God's sake, read them some Little House at night and remind them of the golden rule, will you?
I haven't been to First Friday in over a year. I miss it terribly, but every time a friend goes, they say the same thing: You can't even walk in to half the galleries because they're crawling with little kids who are crawling all over the floors.
But Final Friday was something new, and the great thing about trying something new is that it won't have had a chance to catch on with the masses yet.
To compare, galleries feature local art by local, contemporary artists, usually in storefronts or lofts, with the emphasis on buying art.
The IMA is one of the ten oldest and biggest museums in the country, and sits on 135 wooded acres smack-dab in the middle of town on the beautiful canal. Its campus boasts world-class gardens, a nature park, and a historic mansion, as well as a network of biking and hiking trails. The museum itself houses over 54,000 works spanning 5,000 years. The IMA is a cultural gem to a city like Indianapolis, and some wonderful people keep it vibrant, relevant, and best of all accessible.
But.
It's a museum. Things are housed under glass. Behind velvet ropes. Guarded by security.
That's a good thing for precious works of art, but how could such a place host an interactive, festive atmosphere?
I just had to see for myself. I called my partner, suggested the outing, and for fun I got dressed up, complete with tall skinny boots and a faux fur coat.
With a line-up like this, how could we go wrong?
7:30 pm » Take a Slightly Naughty Tour
Voyeurism: Scene through the Windows at the IMA
The eyes are the windows of the soul, so they say. Peek through some windows and discover what the artists found so fascinating.
8 pm » Express Yourself! The Exquisite Corpse
Your Line or Mine? Surrealist artists exploited the notion of chance by making collective collage images called the cadavre exquis (or exquisite corpse). Add your own marks, lines, and shapes to a community canvas, and explore the unexpected in an exquisite corpse drawing activity. Prepare to be surprised or shocked at the outcome.
8:30 pm » Final Fridays Music Series: Kaleidoscope Jukebox
The music emitting from this jukebox takes you on a kaleidoscopic journey through the past, present and future, hinting at dub, hip hop, downtempo, soul, funk, latin, and jazz.
How many times have I stared at the art and pondered it or just quickly walked by? A docent led us on a tour, offering us insights on the artists, the times, and probed us for what we saw in the paintings. The IMA is home to priceless works by O'Keeffe, Gauguin, Mahler, Seurat, Matisse, Cezanne, and countless others. It has a gallery devoted specifically to Hoosier artists, which I should add, was some of the best in the museum. She offered back stories about how artists came to study, whom they loved, and whom they scorned. Van Gogh's falling out with Gauguin caused him such distress that he was hospitalized for years. That one really struck me, as a falling out with a friend once put me back a night or two. It helped me put it into perspective, reminding me that we're all human. I looked around at all the amazing art, my partner, with whom I was so happy to share the event, and and the city lights out the windows, and something like electricity started pulsing through me.
I looked around the group of people assembled. There were college students. Senior citizens. A 40+ singles group. A farmer. A Marine in uniform. A man in a top hat and cape.
And I'm there. I'm present. I showed up. I observed. I was part of it.
Art is for everyone who will take the time. I found paintings that nearly moved me to tears. I found some whose beauty made me smile wide. Some that made me ponder about the future and past. And in one case, one I would have happily jumped into and lived inside happily ever after.
After the tours, we headed to the piazza and bought some Chilean wine and local cheese, and the next thing I know, one by one, we're surrounded by people we know. I thought about all the times over the past year or two that I've felt I don't belong here--no family, no childhood, adolescent or even early-adult friends, and suddenly I realized that what I have here in Indy is my own community of people, and if it's okay to say, it's a community of people of whom I'm quite proud--photographers, film makers, publishers, and lovers of art and nature, travelers of time and space, and above all friendly faces.
And in my joy and gratitude, I realized something else. Something wasn't bothering me. Or rather, someone. A person I had dated a few years previous was there, too, not-so-subtly encroaching on my personal space, trying to make his presence known. It's not the first time he has done this out in public, and while it's never pleasant, it has never ruined my night. I think we all have one ex, whom, at least in the immediate months following a break-up, has power to turn a good night sour, but this person never had that power. But in the past, I would simply move on and remove myself from the shared environs. But this night was different. Something about this night made me stake out my ground. I had people here. A history. Electricity. I was wanted here.
There was music. The inimitable DJ Kaleidoscope Jukebox was spinning!
I took the dance floor, not knowing a soul.
The DJ was playing a sort of acid groove funk mix, the kind of music I might play if making a film about amoebas. The music sounded like my lava lamp come to life.
And I came to life. My partner did not wish to dance, and I went it alone. Suddenly, various friends and a cast of characters from my loose knit community joined me--a tattoo-covered hippie chick, the farmer with diamond stud earring, my friends, and yes, some kids. Yes, kids.
Kids. Kids were there. They were dancing with me. They were being present with me. Their parents smiled and watched, and they asked me to twirl them and spin them, and I did. To me, they were part of the art of life. Young and old, strangers and friends coming together in dance.
The encroaching ex took to the floor too. He danced next to me maybe five minutes, about as long as it took him to figure out that he wasn't bothering me.
I couldn't be bothered, because the groove was in my heart.
I showed up.
We closed the place. 11 pm, lights up, and we walked back into the cold night, snowflakes dancing above in street lights, already looking forward to cozying up on the couch in the light of my lava lamp, completely smitten with our terrific Friday night in a pretty terrific city in a known crappy month!
a bustling 1800s Indy
and free weed.
For Saturday, I had tickets to the Indiana Repertory Theater (IRT) to see Sondheim's A Little Night Music. I won the tickets to this prestigious fully professional theater by correctly answering a trivia question online. When I picked up the tickets, I noticed they were vouchers for any show of the season. A wonderful idea crossed my mind.
It's no secret that I don't like musicals. They are long and tedious and dippy.
Playing in the smaller theater was a play that I knew my baseball-loving partner would love: Jackie & Me by Steven Dietz, which was based on the best-selling children's book by Dan Gutman, is a sort of fantasy based on Jackie Robinson's rookie year with the Dodgers.
In present day, a twelve-year old boy who is constantly taunted on the baseball field is magically transported to 1947 Brooklyn, where he would witness the first African American to play for Major League Baseball and to become Rookie of the Year.
It was a beautiful story, tidily told--90 tight minutes of action, dialog, and swift pacing. The acting was stupendous, and by the end, we were both laughing tears of joy. We stayed for the actor/director talk-back.
I was dressed up for a night of theater. I figured two nights of snappy dressing in the dead of winter was good for me, and I chose a long sweater dress, a thin belt, black hose, tall boots, a purple hat, and my super cute black trench coat. We were out and about on the town, and after the show, we stopped for dinner at a cozy Italian place called Lorenzos.
Indy has this great tradition called Devour Downtown in which all the restaurants feature special fixed-price menus. It's a great way to experience some fine dining that you might not normally make room for in your budget.
I'm all for living within my means, traveling on a budget, and watching my spending. A very easy way to control spending is to eat many meals at home. I never eat fast food when I can make something quickly, and if given the option for a chain restaurant, I typically take a pass, preferring to save the occasion for something nice.
With a candle on the table, a split of wine, and an elegant menu, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement and made a night of fine theater and fine dining. I guess we could do it more often, but it would be at the cost of other events, and I think it's truly more fun to do it when it's a treat.
Some weekends can be a real treat.
But you gotta show up.
Hiber-eating can wait for a Tue or Wed, but only after I've done a class or two at the gym and done some writing.
January: you were good to me.
February: Bring it!
"Groove is in the Heart" by Dee-Lite, circa....90?
Try not to dance! Try it!
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