I love you, Robot Johnny

I’m a Blogsliner. Plain and simple. I’m not as savvy with the computer as people seem to think so as RSS feeds go I pick the nice cotton candy way to view my favorite sites. A couple of my favorites that I frequent are:
-the obvious Dooce, who I think is brilliantly funny and sometimes I think is just me in some parallel universe
The Sneeze who wins me over with his occasional experimental eating entries
-and finally Robot Johnny who participates in Illustration Friday, but also seems clever and cute and I think I want to meet him.

Today Robot Johnny shared something wonderful with me. Well, okay he shared it with the Internet, but I felt like he was speaking to me. He has finally found something he’s been searching years for and I had even rooted him on from my Pacific Northwest perch hoping he would be successful in finding his Holy Grail. Library Thing [dot] com.

My sister, Maddy, used to have all her books catalogued in a steno pad and she made me a library card so I could check books out from her. I may have already referenced this in an old blog entry, but even then I racked up late fees. A nickel here and there sure adds up when you’re 8 years old.

So Mad, check out this site. Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if we had this back then? I know it was only 1984 and we didn’t even have a computer yet (or maybe we already had our IBM PCjr and were programming simple games with 10 think of a color 20 type color 30 if red go to 40… What is that, BASIC?) but wouldn’t Library Thing have been a much easier way to track your little sister’s overdue items?

Portland. The city that makes you wanna quit your job.

As you can see I have a new format for my blog. You may recognize the layout because it is the generic WordPress layout as you can see on Joey’s blog. I’ll be personalizing it soon.

A great trip to Portland and our cult leader KB brought about:

    -a transfer from MT to WP
    -a subscription to metafilter
    -two pairs of great pants from REI only to discover I had a $100 dividend I didn’t know about.
    -consumption of the best oatmeal from Kornblatts
    -cheese tasting at the gourmet City Market followed by purchase of great cheese and a bottle of 2001 Tedeschi’s Capitel Dei Nicalo Valpolicella which I consumed myself
    -the traditional new cd that I let Kris pick out for me
    -my first viewing of Kill Bill (awesome!)
    -the popping of my Halo2 cherry (I suck at it)
    -a personal one on one tutorial in PhotoShop from the guru himself
    -and of course the obligatory trip to Powell’s where I walked out with some great books including “The Phantom Tollbooth” which Kris bought for me (thanks Kris!)

Ah yes, a great visit as usual and much needed. But speaking of childhood books and memories (Kris bought me the book because he couldn’t believe I hadn’t read it and I can’t believe it either), I found out something interesting regarding an old childhood song I used to sing all the time.

When I was a little girl my mom would teach us songs and sing with us a lot. At least I remember doing this before I was old enough to go to Montessori and maybe a little after. One of my favorites was “Aloutte” which was in french but I managed to learn it anyway. Of course now upon reading it I realize that I had butchered the language and in my head it looked entirely different. 🙂 Regardless, the bigger shock was what the translation was. Check it out.

Avoiding Hypocrisy

Same Dungeon, Different Day, Seattle, WA

Last night I got the urge to buy a few books after all that book talk. I have been on a search for a book to review for our Act of Giving newsletter. I wanted the book to be relevant to what we do (i.e. grants, global awareness, social services, non-profit startups, etc.) or at least inspiring and motivating to us. I had a hard time finding something since this was such a broad topic, but I think I found a book last night that might do. You’ll have to wait to see if it’s worthy of being mentioned.

Why I bring this up though is because of where I bought the book. Tonja kept telling me that instead of spending all my money on full price books, not to mention at a chain, that I should instead go to a Capitol Hill spot called Half Price Books. So last night after dragging her all over Seattle looking for a duvet cover for me to no avail, I then asked her to finally take me to the infamous book store.

And let me tell you, the place was spectacular. Not only is it a pleasant environment with tall ceilings of wooden beams, but it also has a great selection of books for half the cost. I walked away with the aforementioned find and two other books that I probably would be embarrassed to admit I’m reading. Just junk. But then it dawned on me, “this isn’t a local store, this is a chain!” There is one in the University District and I was sure there was more to discover. Sure enough, I found this article in The Stranger which reminded me of my other favorite place to go: Twice Sold Tales. The Bookstore where I get my never-ending cat fix.

What’s my point? If you can help it, go to Twice Sold Tales first. Let’s really support our local bookshop. After all, my dream is to own a bookstore so how hypocritical am I buying from B&N, Borders, or even Half Price Books. Argh.

Book Addict

Basement of Group Health Building aka “The Dungeon”, Seattle, WA

I was perusing the Hawk’s blog and she was listing her most recent reads, which I applaud and welcome. One of her suggestions was “Girl With a Pearl Earring” by Tracy Chevalier which has to do with the artist Vermeer.

This reminded me of a book I just read the other night that I found on my mother’s nightstand. It was called “Girl in Hyacinth Blue” by Susan Vreeland and also has to do with the artist Vermeer. Whereas it seems Chevelier focuses on a girl who lives with Vermeer, Vreeland tells the story of one of Vermeers paintings by starting at it’s present point and following it back through owners. It is told in a collection of short stories really and I believe was originally published individually in a periodical.

It is slightly depressing, but well written and a unique way to look at the history of a painting. Check it out. Quick read. Hawk, you better read this and let me know what you think.

Book Lover Resurfaces

Oakland, CA

I’m home, or as home as I can get these days. I left London Monday afternoon and arrived in San Francisco (after a grueling delay on the runway in Chicago) at midnight. Dave picked me up and I crashed as soon as we got to his place. Then woke up at 7am every morning since. I think my favorite thing about traveling between time zones is coming back to Pacific Time and suddenly being a morning person. I understand the appeal of getting up early and getting things done, but at heart I will never be a morning person without the aid of time zone changes.

Anyhow, as you could tell from my blog entries, the trip was a complete success. I think the only thing the girls and I wished had been different was our Switzerland time. We wanted to use the great Swiss land as a stopping point between sending Charity back to London and jumping the train to Amsterdam for Rebecca and yours truly. Unfortunately, the only thing that worked out was Geneva, which proved to be like any other big city. Plus with the terrible fog, we couldn’t even see the Alps. Oh well, one bad thing in a three-week period is pretty great.

Moving on from my European Vacation, I wanted to use my blog as a place to rave about a book and conversely complain about another. First let me recommend a great book to all of you looking for a great read. Do any of you remember why we love to read? Maybe it’s just me, but I can remember as a kid, 12 years old, 3 am, flashlight under the covers, losing myself in books (and we wonder why I hated getting up for school). Whenever I really loved a book it was because I became the book. I was each character. I felt every event, every detail. I felt like a part of the book and that was so much better than the hell life of middle school that I dreaded every day.

Well, this book reminded me of what it was like to really care about the characters. Mostly, I realized it had been a long time since I was preoccupied with a book. When I wasn’t reading it, I wanted to be. Since the girls weren’t reading it, I was frustrated because I wanted to talk about it all the time. The funny thing is I just grabbed the book off the only English bookshelf in Salzburg (all of ten books to choose from). The book is “What I Loved” by Siri Hustvedt. I don’t think I’m going to tell you anything about it. Just trust me and read it. If you don’t like it, well that’s just fine. Rebecca’s reading it right now so you can ask her what she thinks as well.

But now to balance out my praise I have to gripe a bit about another book. I’m not sure who recommended this book to me (I was sure it was someone whose opinion I respected) but because of this recommendation and all the hype about it, I had high expectations. The book is “The DaVinci Code” by Dan Brown. Here’s the thing, because I had high expectations I was expecting something more in lines of a well-written intellectual masterpiece that would make me think. Instead, I was shocked to find it was written almost as poorly as the bounty hunter cheesy series I’ve been reading. Within a few pages I felt the book was insulting my intelligence by thinking that I wasn’t seeing what they were going to reveal. Not to mention how much I hate the italicized “thinking to themselves” kind of writing. For example, while I’m writing this to I may be thinking, what if someone out there likes this book and I’m insulting them? Well, maybe this is how I’ll measure my willingness to be friends with them. Did you like DaVinci Code? Oh, that’s too bad.

Get my drift. But if you are interested in a quick read of a mystery that occasionally touches on interesting concepts that any Ricki Lake watching fool could comprehend, then by all means, read it. The entire time you read it I’m sure you’ll think to yourself, this would make a great movie! Because I am positive that’s what Dan Brown was dreaming would happen. So very Michael Crichton of him.

And I’m done. Thoughts?

Accompanying Light Shows

Life is sort of crazy (general statement to say the least). For those who read my blog (which is frighteningly more people than I sometimes believe) you may remember my experience in Wisconsin where I met a man who was training hair stylists on coloring. I was lucky enough to be a hair model for him (because lord knows I would never be any other kind of model). So here I am in Iowa and who should call my cell, but LENNY!! The Master Colorist! He asks, “Katie! Where are you these days!” I answer, “Nowhere. I mean, Iowa.” He laughs, “So am I! Cedar Rapids! How far are you?” I answer, “Oh my god, only an hour from you.” And so my plans for my day off switch from me sitting around reading Harry Potter to me driving up to Cedar Rapids where, yes again, I get my hair done and enjoy a few great meals.

This time I had the courage to let him cut my hair even shorter and go darker. A lot of you won’t like it, but hey, it’s hair and I LIKE IT. (Lenny reminds me that my new hair cut requires that I learn to style it and I promise to do so even though we all know I’ll find some way to make it look like it always does. Damn the curse of being a Dellwo at heart.)

On my drive back down to Fairfield from Cedar Rapids at eleven o’clock at night, I listened to “Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris and was reminded how much I love to drive. With either great music or an excellent book on tape/cd I could drive anywhere. To add to my enjoyment, out of the corner of my eye I kept seeing flashes. I would look to my right across the dark of the pastures and lone farmhouses and think “what was that?” Then five seconds later, another flash. Finally, on a straight stretch, I let myself look for a bit longer and sure enough, the sky was lit up by the most incredible lightning show I had ever seen. I pulled off on a gravel road and parked my car to watch for a bit. Imagine looking out into nothing, too dark to discern the fields of grass, barely able to make out that you are on a road at all, and then suddenly the entire sky is filled with lightning just like you used to draw as a child. Bright yellow jagged lines, maybe a few orange and pink, some behind clouds, turning the clouds into glowing pillows. It was truly beautiful. What really got me is the fact that here I am in the dry heat of an Iowa highway and just off in the distance someone is getting soaked. I always seem to be just along side of incredible storms. Only a few times have I been hit, but really I miss the worst of it by a hair. As if somehow I have been allowed to view, but not experience, nature at it’s worst. “Come closer Katie, see what nature can do, but keep your distance, you’re really just a visitor.”

When I arrived at my first library on this trip they said that the previous week they’d lost their electricity. I had just missed it. When I was working in New York some of my libraries couldn’t make it out of their town for FUT or Laptop because of the snow, but it was clear enough where I was. When I was in Kansas there were tornado warnings in every town around me, but my town was the only one in the clear. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had the occasional hailstorm where I’ve pulled off on the side of the road, but on the news later that night, my car was not one of the many whose windshields had crashed due to baseball size hail. I was snowed in at my skanky hotel in Cortland, New York, but I had a Denny’s attached that was still serving and it was the weekend so no worries about training.

When I was a little girl I always felt like nothing interesting ever happened to me, just to the people around me. As I grew older sometimes I would tell amazing stories about those people and I would be met with, “My God, you lead an interesting life,” to which I would respond, “Not really, these are things that happened to OTHER people, not me.” When I was on a plane with my younger cousin, Elena, she was really scared and I said, “Don’t worry, nothing really bad or interesting ever happens to me so you’re okay.” This seemed to allay her fears and we landed safely and uneventfully. Later that same trip when we were floating around in the Atlantic Ocean she said, “I used to be scared of sharks, but since you are out here with me I know I’m safe.” That made me giggle. (How horrible would it have been if I had been wrong.)

So I guess my drive last night along side of the incredible lightning storm made me appreciate for the first time what a sweet deal I have. I get to observe the most incredible and sometimes horrible experiences from a safe distance without ever having to feel the real burden of them. Some of you might be thinking, “what about that terrible car accident?” Well, let’s look at that. I’m alive and in perfect health again. How lucky can I be? If you ever saw the pictures of the car, you’d be shocked too.

The worst part about all this? Now that I’ve acknowledged it AND written it in my blog, I’ll be hit by an electrical storm tonight, my plane will crash, and my entire family will be devoured by sharks. Sorry about that.

Is it too late to knock on wood? knock…knock…knock?