My niece says Nice was nice.
posted by the other Joan @ 9:21 PM
0 comments
Red Queen Day
Monday, July 31, 2006
The Art for the day is: The art of homonyms.
My niece says Nice was nice.
My niece says Nice was nice.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
The Art of the Day is: Choreography
Planning your moves.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:44 AM
0 comments
Friday, July 28, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The evil art of second guessing
This is the kind of magical thinking where you (I) take things too personally.
If the automatic id on the computer doesn't work, it's because I've been taken off the list.
Somehow the computer knows, or the person behind the computer knows that I have somehow insulted them, and they are going to pick up their toys and go home. (Linda Elswieg, I really do forgive you after all these years) Huh? They don't want to play with me any more. They've changed the secret password to the clubhouse.
I know this is nonsense. I know that I am projecting my insecurities on others. I know it's not good for me. It's old. It's unattractive. Junk in the attic.
Name it , claim it, and let it go.
This is the kind of magical thinking where you (I) take things too personally.
If the automatic id on the computer doesn't work, it's because I've been taken off the list.
Somehow the computer knows, or the person behind the computer knows that I have somehow insulted them, and they are going to pick up their toys and go home. (Linda Elswieg, I really do forgive you after all these years) Huh? They don't want to play with me any more. They've changed the secret password to the clubhouse.
I know this is nonsense. I know that I am projecting my insecurities on others. I know it's not good for me. It's old. It's unattractive. Junk in the attic.
Name it , claim it, and let it go.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:17 AM
0 comments
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Finding Surfaces
Yes, this has to do with cleaning up my house, an ongoing battle.
On my refrigerator door is an article about clutter: A messy desk is a sign of an organized mind, or something to that effect. My mind has been digesting David Allen's Getting Things Done, and wondering if in this respect you can have it all, a clear mind and a clear counter.
Yes, this has to do with cleaning up my house, an ongoing battle.
On my refrigerator door is an article about clutter: A messy desk is a sign of an organized mind, or something to that effect. My mind has been digesting David Allen's Getting Things Done, and wondering if in this respect you can have it all, a clear mind and a clear counter.
posted by the other Joan @ 7:26 AM
1 comments
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Travel
I have been following my niece’s travel blog. It’s really interesting to read about
Go and come back.
posted by the other Joan @ 11:41 AM
1 comments
Sunday, July 23, 2006
The Art for the Day is: The Art of Holding your Tongue
posted by the other Joan @ 7:03 PM
0 comments
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
The Art of the Day is: Creating Sense Memories
My Father's Yarhzeit
Yahrzeit is a Yiddish word meaning literally ‘year’s time’, and is the anniversary of someone’s death, as figured on the Hebrew Calendar. That we celebrate someone’s death has always seemed peculiarly Jewish, but then, I find much of the rituals around death and dying in Judaism to be some of the best thought out rituals around. It just sort of snuck up on me this year.
My father’s Yahrzeit was this week, and may have been some of the reason for feeling sad. Part of my subconscious mind remembered what I consciously forgot. My father died 15 years ago. He had the gracious good sense of timing to have his last illness in the summer, when I was on an academic schedule, and had time to be with him and my mother. I think it was an uncomfortable death, but not a painful one. I think if I knew then what I know now, it could have been easier for everyone, but we all did our best at the time.
I never thought of my father as an extraordinary man. He wasn’t rich or famous. He was not physically striking (except for a brief period in his late teens, early twenties). He was well educated. He wasn’t especially well read, but from time to time would refer me to a book, or take an interest in something one of us was reading. He was an avid viewer of Public TV. He was generally fascinated by TV, and used to hang out at the TV repair shop (back in the days before transistors, back in the day when TV tubes gave off their own unique smell) just for fun.
He was his mother’s favorite, simply because he slipped into this world without much labor. My sister wanted his life to bookend, a home birth and a home death, but that was not what my mother wanted. I still believe taking him to the hospital was the right thing to do, for my mother’s sake, if not my father’s, and my father would have taken her feelings and fears into account.
My parents were best friends. That doesn’t mean they didn’t argue or fight, they did. But they were also affectionate, my dad even more so than my mom. He would come up behind her and hug her as she washed dishes. What is it about women near water that affects men? He was connected to his family and her family, so much so that he would not move our family out to Utah for his work, because he didn’t want to take my mother far from her family, even though he sometimes resented my mother’s relationship with her brother.
He went back to college in his 40’s, to work on a graduate degree in Geology. His studies were disrupted by his first heart attack in 1977. His retirement was not what he expected it to be. His identity was much more connected to his work than anyone thought it would be, and there was not a flexible way for him to continue part time, or find something else part time to keep his hand in. He missed the popularization of the internet, which he would have loved.
A week ago I was sitting in a restaurant with my brother and nephew, recalling my father’s favorite foods. It was an interesting exercise, and I think I did very well. I don’t know if I had a better memory because I was older, or because I paid more attention. If I paid more attention, was it a “female” thing, or a “foody” thing? I’d like to think it was neither, just being more observant, but I don’t know for sure.
Food memories have always been very strong for me. I could remember the smell of four kitchens growing up: My mother’s, which smelled “neutral” to me, because she fried things in margarine. My grandmother’s, which smelled of (burnt) butter. My great-grandmother’s, whose kitchen smelled of chicken fat and opera mints, and my paternal grandmother’s, who’s kitchen was altogether different, as she cooked “Hungarian” and not “Russia-Poland”. Her kitchen smelled of fresh basil.
My father would make lunches for us on Sundays, when my mother was teaching Sunday School. He would get more credit for his creative lunches, once a week than my mother would get for cooking all week. Mostly because he was more adventurous, making curries and chilies, and other things my mother wouldn’t make, and he would take time to present food especially for kids, for example putting smiley faces made out of vegetables on open face sandwiches. My “father’s kitchen” smelled of strange spices and pipe tobacco.
I miss them all.
My Father's Yarhzeit
Yahrzeit is a Yiddish word meaning literally ‘year’s time’, and is the anniversary of someone’s death, as figured on the Hebrew Calendar. That we celebrate someone’s death has always seemed peculiarly Jewish, but then, I find much of the rituals around death and dying in Judaism to be some of the best thought out rituals around. It just sort of snuck up on me this year.
My father’s Yahrzeit was this week, and may have been some of the reason for feeling sad. Part of my subconscious mind remembered what I consciously forgot. My father died 15 years ago. He had the gracious good sense of timing to have his last illness in the summer, when I was on an academic schedule, and had time to be with him and my mother. I think it was an uncomfortable death, but not a painful one. I think if I knew then what I know now, it could have been easier for everyone, but we all did our best at the time.
I never thought of my father as an extraordinary man. He wasn’t rich or famous. He was not physically striking (except for a brief period in his late teens, early twenties). He was well educated. He wasn’t especially well read, but from time to time would refer me to a book, or take an interest in something one of us was reading. He was an avid viewer of Public TV. He was generally fascinated by TV, and used to hang out at the TV repair shop (back in the days before transistors, back in the day when TV tubes gave off their own unique smell) just for fun.
He was his mother’s favorite, simply because he slipped into this world without much labor. My sister wanted his life to bookend, a home birth and a home death, but that was not what my mother wanted. I still believe taking him to the hospital was the right thing to do, for my mother’s sake, if not my father’s, and my father would have taken her feelings and fears into account.
My parents were best friends. That doesn’t mean they didn’t argue or fight, they did. But they were also affectionate, my dad even more so than my mom. He would come up behind her and hug her as she washed dishes. What is it about women near water that affects men? He was connected to his family and her family, so much so that he would not move our family out to Utah for his work, because he didn’t want to take my mother far from her family, even though he sometimes resented my mother’s relationship with her brother.
He went back to college in his 40’s, to work on a graduate degree in Geology. His studies were disrupted by his first heart attack in 1977. His retirement was not what he expected it to be. His identity was much more connected to his work than anyone thought it would be, and there was not a flexible way for him to continue part time, or find something else part time to keep his hand in. He missed the popularization of the internet, which he would have loved.
A week ago I was sitting in a restaurant with my brother and nephew, recalling my father’s favorite foods. It was an interesting exercise, and I think I did very well. I don’t know if I had a better memory because I was older, or because I paid more attention. If I paid more attention, was it a “female” thing, or a “foody” thing? I’d like to think it was neither, just being more observant, but I don’t know for sure.
Food memories have always been very strong for me. I could remember the smell of four kitchens growing up: My mother’s, which smelled “neutral” to me, because she fried things in margarine. My grandmother’s, which smelled of (burnt) butter. My great-grandmother’s, whose kitchen smelled of chicken fat and opera mints, and my paternal grandmother’s, who’s kitchen was altogether different, as she cooked “Hungarian” and not “Russia-Poland”. Her kitchen smelled of fresh basil.
My father would make lunches for us on Sundays, when my mother was teaching Sunday School. He would get more credit for his creative lunches, once a week than my mother would get for cooking all week. Mostly because he was more adventurous, making curries and chilies, and other things my mother wouldn’t make, and he would take time to present food especially for kids, for example putting smiley faces made out of vegetables on open face sandwiches. My “father’s kitchen” smelled of strange spices and pipe tobacco.
I miss them all.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:46 AM
2 comments
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Hazy, Hot and Humid
A friend refers to it as the summer doldrums, like a ship stuck still on a windless lake, no current or breeze to move it along. Caught between the what was, and what will come.
Listless, but not fallow. It is a mater of waiting for things to ripen, winds to change.
Remembering. Heaviness. Thick air, thick water, thick skinned, thick thinking. Still, but not silent. Time is either too fast or too slow.
What do I want? Lemonade, or mint iced tea. Breezes. Adventures. The ability to remember, and the ability to forget.
There is a sadness that creeps into my thoughts and dreams. I remember wonderful childhood summers, at beaches and in the mountains. Away from home. Taking all the time I wanted to get through a really thick book. A different schedule, if a schedule at all. And I remember working summers with camaraderieie and challenges. Making silk purses out of sow's ears, and making small paychecks yield savings, I'm still not sure how I did that. Summer and Shakespeare. One or two plays a summer, studied in great depth, memorized lines with the actors: "This wall is my wall, this thornbush is my thornbush, and this dog's m'dog".
Then there are the sad and serious summers of my adult life. Even those were not all bad. My family and friends helped a lot.
When you are becalmed at sea, the reflections are clearer.
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Reflection
A friend refers to it as the summer doldrums, like a ship stuck still on a windless lake, no current or breeze to move it along. Caught between the what was, and what will come.
Listless, but not fallow. It is a mater of waiting for things to ripen, winds to change.
Remembering. Heaviness. Thick air, thick water, thick skinned, thick thinking. Still, but not silent. Time is either too fast or too slow.
What do I want? Lemonade, or mint iced tea. Breezes. Adventures. The ability to remember, and the ability to forget.
There is a sadness that creeps into my thoughts and dreams. I remember wonderful childhood summers, at beaches and in the mountains. Away from home. Taking all the time I wanted to get through a really thick book. A different schedule, if a schedule at all. And I remember working summers with camaraderieie and challenges. Making silk purses out of sow's ears, and making small paychecks yield savings, I'm still not sure how I did that. Summer and Shakespeare. One or two plays a summer, studied in great depth, memorized lines with the actors: "This wall is my wall, this thornbush is my thornbush, and this dog's m'dog".
Then there are the sad and serious summers of my adult life. Even those were not all bad. My family and friends helped a lot.
When you are becalmed at sea, the reflections are clearer.
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Reflection
posted by the other Joan @ 9:19 AM
1 comments
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Monday, July 17, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The art of being comfortable in your own skin.
Short Rant: Why is it at “better” hotels you are more likely to be charged for wireless access than at standard hotels? In my worst case imaginings this has something to do with Corporate America, Red States, and Fiscal Inequities. Call me a peasant, but this is a personal peeve. I’m not even going to go into the fact that they don’t have PBS on their television lineup. No wonder Paris can sustain her opulent lifestyle.
Short Rant: Why is it at “better” hotels you are more likely to be charged for wireless access than at standard hotels? In my worst case imaginings this has something to do with Corporate America, Red States, and Fiscal Inequities. Call me a peasant, but this is a personal peeve. I’m not even going to go into the fact that they don’t have PBS on their television lineup. No wonder Paris can sustain her opulent lifestyle.
posted by the other Joan @ 9:12 AM
0 comments
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Saturday, July 15, 2006
The Art for the Day is: posing questions
I've been away from the computer all day yesterday, and I missed posting. So does that make yesterday artless?
I've been following the news of what's going on in Israel and Lebanon. I have a sister who lives in Northern Israel. Is Safed safe?
Why is it "our bombs are targeted" and "their bombs are indiscriminate"?
I've been away from the computer all day yesterday, and I missed posting. So does that make yesterday artless?
I've been following the news of what's going on in Israel and Lebanon. I have a sister who lives in Northern Israel. Is Safed safe?
Why is it "our bombs are targeted" and "their bombs are indiscriminate"?
posted by the other Joan @ 9:40 AM
0 comments
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The Art of the Day is: the art of letting go
I've come to the conclusion than rather than spend the airfare to get to my nephew's wedding, I should send him the cost of the airfare. Why is this letting go? Because I had toyed with the idea of going out west around this wedding. Because in not going I have to admit to myself that my nephew and I are not that close, and I tend to hold family close. Because if I still had Jimmy with me, he would remind me of how important these events are, a concept I taught to him, and we might have been able to plan more of a trip. It's OK. The guilt factor is in the right direction: would you feel more guilty if you went, or if you didn't go? But a trip is in my future, just not this one, right now.
I've come to the conclusion than rather than spend the airfare to get to my nephew's wedding, I should send him the cost of the airfare. Why is this letting go? Because I had toyed with the idea of going out west around this wedding. Because in not going I have to admit to myself that my nephew and I are not that close, and I tend to hold family close. Because if I still had Jimmy with me, he would remind me of how important these events are, a concept I taught to him, and we might have been able to plan more of a trip. It's OK. The guilt factor is in the right direction: would you feel more guilty if you went, or if you didn't go? But a trip is in my future, just not this one, right now.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:42 AM
0 comments
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Red Queen Rule #3:
Every problem has a family.
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Asking for Directions
posted by the other Joan @ 8:52 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Accommodating People
This is another way to say "making nervous people less nervous." It comes up for me when I'm running seminars, because I am both the accommodator and the accommodated. It's up to me to make the people in my group feel comfortable and cared for, and in turn, I am staying in hotels where people are trying to make me feel comfortable. What goes around comes around.
This is another way to say "making nervous people less nervous." It comes up for me when I'm running seminars, because I am both the accommodator and the accommodated. It's up to me to make the people in my group feel comfortable and cared for, and in turn, I am staying in hotels where people are trying to make me feel comfortable. What goes around comes around.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:45 AM
1 comments
Monday, July 10, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The art of simple elegance
Well, maybe more of a design principle, or a wish or goal.
Well, maybe more of a design principle, or a wish or goal.
posted by the other Joan @ 9:32 AM
0 comments
Saturday, July 08, 2006
The Art of the Day is: Kvelling
Kvelling (yiddish): demonstrative pride or pleasure, as in:
I am so excited about my new electric toothbrush, I'm just kvelling!
antonym of Kvetching.
Kvelling (yiddish): demonstrative pride or pleasure, as in:
I am so excited about my new electric toothbrush, I'm just kvelling!
antonym of Kvetching.
posted by the other Joan @ 9:51 AM
0 comments
Friday, July 07, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Art of peripheral Visioning.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:09 AM
0 comments
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Focusing
I admit to being in the Summer doldrums. I'm not feeling like I'm making progress. I'm not sure what to do, or tackle next. There are tasks and activities that I am doing, but without enthusiasm. I am envious of friends who seem to be doing well. I am not comfortable feeling envious. I need to fill up my dance card, and dance.
I admit to being in the Summer doldrums. I'm not feeling like I'm making progress. I'm not sure what to do, or tackle next. There are tasks and activities that I am doing, but without enthusiasm. I am envious of friends who seem to be doing well. I am not comfortable feeling envious. I need to fill up my dance card, and dance.
posted by the other Joan @ 11:16 AM
0 comments
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
There are 133340 listings under "Art of" in an Amazon search. About half of these are useless, in terms of An Art a Day; History of Art, How to teach Art to Children, and half again are repeats, but that still leaves 3,335 listings, more or less. Interesting ones so far: The Art of War, The Art of Peace, The Art of Construction, The Art of SQL, The Art of Putting, The Hidden Art of Homemaking, The Art of Howl's Moving Castle, The Art of the Catapult, The Art of Bible Preaching, The Art of Faux Painting, Zen and the Art of...,
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Making Lists
The Art of the Day is: The Art of Making Lists
posted by the other Joan @ 9:33 AM
0 comments
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Art for the Day is: The art of acquiring information.
AKA: web surfing
So yesterday I told you about The Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defence, and I looked it up on Amazon, to see if I had the title correct. The book is at home, and I'm not. And it lead me to think of what other books have "the Art of" in their titles. I admit this thought was furthered along because I'm reading Getting Things Done, by David Allen, subtitled "the Art of Stress-Free Productivity", more on that later. Some folks have asked me where do I come up with the idea for the art of the day. Sometimes it's something that's going on or I want to go on in my life, sometimes it's off a running list that I keep for when I can't think of anything, and I check against to make sure I'm not repeating myself (it's happened once or twice already, not including variations on a theme. I'd like not to repeat if possible), and now I have another source, titles and subtitles of published books. Should be interesting.
AKA: web surfing
So yesterday I told you about The Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defence, and I looked it up on Amazon, to see if I had the title correct. The book is at home, and I'm not. And it lead me to think of what other books have "the Art of" in their titles. I admit this thought was furthered along because I'm reading Getting Things Done, by David Allen, subtitled "the Art of Stress-Free Productivity", more on that later. Some folks have asked me where do I come up with the idea for the art of the day. Sometimes it's something that's going on or I want to go on in my life, sometimes it's off a running list that I keep for when I can't think of anything, and I check against to make sure I'm not repeating myself (it's happened once or twice already, not including variations on a theme. I'd like not to repeat if possible), and now I have another source, titles and subtitles of published books. Should be interesting.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:14 AM
0 comments
Sunday, July 02, 2006
The Art of the Day is: The Gentle Art of Verbal Self Defence
This is the granddaddy of them all. When my old roommate (Sarah Brown of fiddlehead fame) introduced me to this book, and I needed it at the time, it segued into the idea of living each day as if it were an art, and that's where the idea of an art a day began. This was before I started reading the encyclopedia with a buddy (a daf a day [a daf being two facing pages in a book, referring to Talmud, which is set up like early hyperlinks, but I digress]) and before my friend started publishing her blog A Hat a Day. This is all to the good. Now all I need to do is apply this to other things as well, like exercise. A day at a time.
This is the granddaddy of them all. When my old roommate (Sarah Brown of fiddlehead fame) introduced me to this book, and I needed it at the time, it segued into the idea of living each day as if it were an art, and that's where the idea of an art a day began. This was before I started reading the encyclopedia with a buddy (a daf a day [a daf being two facing pages in a book, referring to Talmud, which is set up like early hyperlinks, but I digress]) and before my friend started publishing her blog A Hat a Day. This is all to the good. Now all I need to do is apply this to other things as well, like exercise. A day at a time.
posted by the other Joan @ 8:59 AM
0 comments
Saturday, July 01, 2006
The Art of the Day is: Keeping Time
keeping the beat
watching the clock
remembering moments
"People come and go so quickly around here!"-- Dorothy
keeping the beat
watching the clock
remembering moments
"People come and go so quickly around here!"-- Dorothy
posted by the other Joan @ 10:04 AM
0 comments
Some days "It takes all the running you can do to stay in the same place". This blog is to chronicle the running, and point out the interesting things, people, places, I meet on the way.
About Me
- Name: the other Joan
- Location: New Hampshire, United States
I've lived in all 4 New states, NY, NJ, NM, NH. I grew up as far away as you can from Manhattan and still take the subway.(I used to put subway tokens in my penny loafers so I could click my heels three times and go home). I've sung solo in the Parma Opera House. My brother and sister are twins. I believe that people want to be used, but they want to be used well.
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- The Art of the Day is: Conquering Procrastination...
- Passover pix
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- The Art of the Day is: Maintaining Motivation.
- hello world.(and other ways of starting over)I tho...
- Take care of sounds /pounds and the sense /pense w...
- Happy (belated) year of the Tiger.
- sometimes it takes all the running you can do, the...
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Red Queen Rules:
- Keep your eyes on your
own plate - Be yourself,
it's who you do best - Every problem has
a family