Tacky v Cool

I was looking through the Sundance catalog which arrived in the mail a couple of days ago. Seems to me that someone there (maybe Robert Redford himself?) gets off on trying to get us to buy stuff that no one in their right mind would want.

The item in question in this particular catalog is a plastic snowman that looks identical to the ones that graced so many front yards for Christmas in the fifties. Complete with inner light for that special mid-century appeal. The description says, “Oh so tacky is now beyond gloriously good with our lighted Snowman sentinels . . .” I don’t think so. The real kicker is that in addition to selling them one at a time and in sets of three, they also helpfully offer a set of 36 of the inane creatures for a mere $2100. I’d be interested in knowing how many takers they get for the set of 36 (plus $450 extra for shipping). We can only hope that $5000 glow-in-the-dark nativity sets aren’t next on the Sundance agenda.

Winter

The day before yesterday my favorite Japanese maple tree had a full complement of burgundy colored leaves. Yesterday’s wind storm blew every last leaf onto the ground and down the driveway. The now leafless branches sport clumps of pale green lichen and stand proud in their rosy red winter color.

I love winters in the Pacific Northwest; the monochrome afternoon light; the misty pale gray mornings and close-to-ever-present rain make the few sun breaks all the more beautiful. Reading this, you may think I spend a lot of time appreciating my surroundings. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. I’m disappointed to admit that I spend way more time either ruminating over past events or planning for things to come. Like John said, “Life is what happens while you’re making other plans.”

I’ve noticed that when I am able to stay in the moment it’s a lot like balancing on the edge of a knife blade. Any move in any direction, and you’re toast. Even when you notice that you’re still in the moment, you’re not. Go figure.

As a potter, I spend a lot of time alone in the studio. As a potter who lives in the sticks and is somewhat of an introvert (extroverts read ‘recluse’) I spend the majority of my time alone. I’m not complaining. I can’t imagine anything I’d rather do, or anywhere I’d rather be. Besides, it gives me time to think.

Lately I’ve been paying a good deal of attention to the thoughts running through my head every day. And that is what’s so weird. They quite often don’t make much sense. Maybe they used to back in the day, maybe not even then.

I doubt I’m alone in this. I may have more time than most for introspection, but I suspect a lot of the blather that fills my head is clogging up psyches all over the planet this very minute. Our adversity to aging is one example.

Oh to be Young Again
What’s with the nonsensical wish to remain young forever? Or at least look like we are. If ever there was a losing battle, this would be it. We’ll waste untold resources in the pursuit of even the slightest smoothing of our (what must certainly be prematurely) aging skin. Plastic surgery that attempts to remove the effect of the years is big business. And we’ve all seen the results of one too many face lifts - that grimacing smile that looks more scarecrowish than youthful. And why? A face, proudly worn, wrinkled with laugh lines and years of a life well lived is altogether beautiful. Even if it’s on a woman; maybe especially if it’s on a woman. I notice this quite often, yet a couple of weeks ago I was conned by some good advertising into sending for this stuff that’s supposed to erase wrinkles in six weeks (coincidently two weeks longer than its 30-day free trial offer). I did manage to come to my senses and send it back before they charged my Visa account the $150 they say the stuff is worth (on sale of course). Besides, it didn't seem to be working . . .