Christmas: Past & 'Presents'

Christmas... such anticipation and expectations:

The merriment and flurry of activity, crisp air, logs burning in the fireplace, visits with family & friends, sweet treats & hot cocoa, festive window decorations, streets sparkling with lights, Santa and... presents!

But who had time for anticipation?

The turkey was carved and before desserts of apple and pumpkin pie could be served, Thanksgiving became Christmas. With K-Mart opening at 6 AM and other stores following soon after, America's new event, 'Black Thursday', put us into the thick of 'Christmas frenzy' before offers of gratitude could even be made.

Okay... 42 inch TV's were going for $100!

But 'Black Friday', 'Small Business Saturday' and 'Cyber Monday' were events still to come and they were just hours or a few days away.

I chose to eat pie.

I waited until Monday and sat in front of my computer, typing credit card numbers on my keyboard, while still in pajamas. Don't you just love the word 'Cyber'!

Truth is, Michael and I are not big consumers. We own things until they break down and cry 'Uncle'... like our 15 year old van that looks brand new on the outside, but is now making a very loud scary noise on the inside... and our computer, our good ol' trusty Apple, that we're still using, purchased in 2000!... thankfully, neither are crying out any relative's names.

Cyber Monday, I ordered shoes for Michael... Dr. Martens. He needed them and the price was right. It wasn't a Christmas present. We don't do presents for ourselves. We both have simple tastes and simple pleasures. Michael enjoys a good beer and I like things that are cute, like little plastic toys, and spending time in bookstores. And so we treat ourselves to these kinds of things all year round.

Not so as a child. This time of year was always about the 'presents & Santa' and with expectations high, often came big disappointments.

Like... waking up to find a single plastic fishnet stocking purchased from a '5 & Dime' store... today's equivalent of a dollar store, tied to the knob of my bedroom door. Inside the stocking were small items you might use to play with your pet, if you had one. Hmmm... today I'd probably enjoy that gift... plastic toys!

Back then I dreamed big and fell hard. I was such an innocent.

Once, on Christmas Eve, I heard Santa's sleigh bells ringing outside my bedroom window and I woke up in the morning with a stiff neck from lying so still pretending to be asleep. Several weeks later I heard those same sounds and discovered it wasn't Santa who had come to town, but strong winds that jingled a piece of metal inside the window frame.

And the worst Christmas was finding out from a classmate, in second grade, that there was no such person as Santa, but instead, our parents were the ones bearing gifts... which may explain the meager plastic stocking... young parents trying hard to make ends meet.

Much of those holidays are a blur.

But that was then and this is now.

Right now on the top of my 'To Do' list are the words... 'Write Christmas Cards'. Next on the list... 'Mail Them'!

Having bought the cards in June doesn't guarantee they'll arrive on time. My Thanksgiving cards are still sitting in a drawer somewhere... though I did send out emails of a photo of orange berries with my best wishes for the holiday.

I'm just a bit of a procrastinator.

Or as John Perry explains in his book... 'The Art of Procrastination: a Guide to Effective Dawdling, Lollygagging and Postponing...or Getting Things Done By Putting Things Off'...

I'm a 'structured procrastinator'.

Meaning... I do things... just not the most urgent or important things that need to get done at the moment... which are the items on the top of my list. So instead of writing cards and addressing envelopes, I'm sitting here at the computer working on this post. Earlier in the day I straightened some papers, took a walk, emailed a friend, and played a game or two online while my Christmas cards remain nestled in their boxes. 

If you'd like one of my holiday cards, email me with your name and address. Seriously, I promise to send one out to you... though I may have to straighten my desk or sharpen a few pencils first.

Tomorrow... I'm anticipating a great day. 'M' & I are off to see a few photography exhibitions in the city, have lunch at a new restaurant, view some holiday window displays and once it gets dark, stand in awe of all the festive lights, which is my very favorite part of Christmas.

Thankfully, I'm never disappointed.

What plans do you have for the holidays? Any favorite or funny holiday memories come to mind? While sugar plums dance in your head...

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

Read about 'naughty' here.

'Nice here.

Watch 'naughty and nice' here.

And an unusual gift found here.

Here are a few of my favorite holiday things... winter white windows and colorful lights.

Today, December 12, 2012, also written, 12/12/12 is the last of its kind until January 1, 2101, 89 years from now... when numerical digits for month, day, and year again coincide.

May this day and all your days be remarkable.

Enjoy Your Holidays!

XOX... Dyan

Arithmetic & Dreams

Picture a large pie... okay a humungous pie... apple... cut into 24 pieces sliced with exact precision that could only be done by machine. Only, I did it myself.

Wayne Thiebaud  "Meringues"

Okay, so it happened in a dream. I've been dreaming a lot. I guess that's good. It means I'm achieving deep REM sleep. On the flip side, lately, my dreams have been vivid, active, and verge on being over the edge... okay, they're full blown nightmares.

This morning I woke up in a sweat.

It wasn't cutting the pie that had me freaked. It was that I was standing, holding this monster of a pie, in front of 24 students, in a classroom, while being forced to teach math... fractions to be exact.

I've never been exact about anything related to math.

I can't do numbers in my head or on paper and rarely get the same answer twice when using a calculator.

Fact is... I'm mathematically challenged. I'm genetically 'mis-wired'. Two hot wires must have accidently made contact, at birth, causing my brain to fry and sizzle rendering me inept when dealing with numbers or sequences of numbers... like 1, 4, 9, 16, ?

Charles Atlas  "Painting By Numbers"

When I was in grade school, I was always 'the last one standing'... not to be confused with 'The Last Comic Standing'. There was nothing funny about my inability to come up with a correct answer during our daily math bees, which were much like spelling bees. Except, I can spell... could spell... until 'Spell Check' and 'Auto Correct' took over making spelling somewhat of a lost art... unfortunately, not so for arithmetic.

Spelling bees are more kind, less embarrassing. Clues are given: the definition, word used in a sentence, and word origins. You also get to leave the stage and disappear immediately upon giving a wrong answer, which allows you to avoid any further humiliation. Only with our number challenges, there were never any hints or an easy way out. If you were lucky, or a math whiz with the right solution to a problem, you were awarded a seat as a prize.

David Hockney  "Chair"

While the rest of us, less numerically skilled, with legs about to fall off, continued the rounds to their fatal, I mean final, end.

And it wasn't just addition and subtraction, area and perimeter, halves and wholes, variables and constants, arcs and tangents that I found difficult. It was all math including money... coins and dollars. While I was pretty good at earning money, I was less adept at making change.

Andy Warhol  "Dollar signs"

In college, I took a part-time job as a sales person / cashier in a department store. At the time Macy's and Gimbels were the two biggest department stores in the area and were great competitors. There was even a saying... "Does Macy's tell Gimbels?"... inferring that there were no shared secrets between them. Macy's still exits and thrives whereas Gimbels, my employer, thanks in part to me, is long gone.

My second day of work, I sold a briefcase to a customer. It was on sale. She was buying it as a gift for her husband. After chitchatting a while, she handed me a twenty-dollar bill. I gave her change. I could tell by the expression on her face that something in my calculation was incorrect, but at the moment, wasn't sure. She left a happy customer. As she exited the front door, with briefcase in hand, it hit me... I not only gave her back her twenty, but also an extra five!

Charles Demuth  "I Saw The Figure Five in Gold"

I won't even attempt to explain my first day on the job, which was way more disastrous. I gave two weeks notice then left, even though Gimbels pleaded with me to stay. Hmmm, besides me giving merchandise and money away, could poor judgment on their part have been their demise?

So here I am with 24 slices of pie and a room full of well behaved students... proof I am dreaming. Oh... did I mention the whipped cream?... the 24 perfectly swirled mounds of whipped cream with the consistency of chilled butter cream that I made as toppings? They were beautiful. I can do beautiful. I do have a degree in art. I just can't do math... or drive a car... or cook... and a number of other things.

So I began by demonstrating how there were 24 pieces in the pie, 24/24ths equaled  1 whole pie, how each person got one slice or 1/24 of the pie, and how 12 pieces made up half a pie denoted as 12/24ths further reduced to 1/2.

Cy Twombly  "Untitled" (Bolsena)

Brilliant!

A piece of cake... no, pie.

But as the children began feverishly devouring their dessert with whipped cream toppings, I could see my props, or manipulatives in 'teacher talk' disappearing along with my student's attention.

Heads turned, eyes were diverted towards opened windows and to the mobiles that hung from the ceiling. I could hear the start of private conversations and an interruption from across the room.

It was pie, with whipped cream toppings, that held this lesson together. And now that it was gone, so too, was my sense of control.

Roy Lichtenstein  "Crying Girl"

I woke up before anything got worse.

I've had worse dreams, more terrifying... where I was not the teacher, but a student. I'd hear the words 'Pop Quiz'  and find a math test waiting for me on my desk, stating:

"Two trains going in opposite directions leave at the same time. Train B travels at 5 mph faster than train A. In 5 hours the trains are 675 miles apart. Find the speed of both trains."

Rene Magritte  "Time Transfixed"

Then my head would hurt and there'd be flashbacks... to where my legs were about to fall off, and I'd be close to being... "the last one standing."

I'd be in a sweat... an ocean... and I'm drowning.

Alex Katz  "The Swimmer"

That's a full blown nightmare!

Do you ever get the sweats just thinking about a day when someone might ask you to count backwards by 7 from 100?

If not... what subject brings out your worst nightmares?

While you are contemplating your answers, here are a few links you might find interesting:

My kind of numbers... birthdays! Enter your birth date and learn more about your personality here.

Proof that math really does make your brain hurt here.

15 facts about dreams with pictures here along with 30 facts about dreams without pictures here.

Quotes about dreams here.

Bob Dylan's 'Series of Dreams' video here.

Salvador Dali Clock

Arithmetic & Dreams... Surreal

Hook Lines & Famous People

"For the past two nights, I've dreamt of Elvis... actually his bodyguard."

Doesn't that sound like a great opening hook for a novel?

We all have our preferences when it comes to deciding which books to read. For some, book selections are based on recommendations, book club choices or rave reviews. For others, it's a favorite author or subject of interest. For those without a clue, it's often cover appeal... but for many, it's that first sentence, that opening hook, which has us opening our wallets paying with cash or credit, or flashing our library card to read more.

I have my favorite authors and prefer books that are 'quirky' with titles like... 'Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant', or 'Einstein's Dreams'... works written in conversational tones with dialogue and little or no descriptive paragraphs. I always read the opening hook and first paragraph along with the ending hook and last pages of any book, with a few random pages here and there, before deciding which book might hold my interest or be worthy of my time.

A great deal of time and consideration goes into writing that first line. It's what hooks the reader into wanting to read more and often sells books. Here are a few intriguing first lines by famous authors.

"It was a bright, cold day in April and the clocks had just struck 13." ~ George Orwell, 1984

"Call me Ishmael." ~ Herman Melville, Moby Dick

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my head ever since." ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

"As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect." ~ Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

And from one of my favorite authors...

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth." ~ J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

And mine... "For the past two nights, I've Dreamt of Elvis... actually his bodyguard." Have I hooked you yet?

I was never really into Elvis though I know of people who are... who own paraphernalia, souvenirs, who wear Elvis costumes, see shows by Elvis impersonators and have even been to Graceland..."You rock, Dan!"

Truth is... I haven't fabricated these words. I did dream of Elvis's bodyguard on not just one night but two consecutive nights. Clearly, the dream must be significant. Who dreams in feature length movies with an extended intermission? Unfortunately, my Elvis dream was inconclusive like one of those foreign films that suck you in and leave you dry, wondering, "What the hell just happened?" or worse... "Now what?"

But actually I did know Elvis's bodyguard... still do... only when I met him he was no longer employed by Elvis, but instead a professor at the art school I attended. Few knew of his past connection with 'The King' except for his family, closest friends and me... a babysitter for his two children.

This wasn't my only brush with someone famous. When I was a kid shopping with my mother in Fortunoffs on Long Island, NY, we spotted Totie Fields browsing through merchandise a short distance from us.

Quickly, we positioned ourselves in front of Totie's cart where my mother began  introducing herself. I did everything I could to keep from blurting out the words... "Tell me a joke!" ... "Tell me something funny!" After all, she was one of the most famous female comedians of our time, but at that moment seemed less than amused by our invasion of her privacy.

Then there was the time I picked Richard's Pryor's nose... another comedian. You heard correctly.

I was a teenager when I saw him walking towards me on a busy New York City street. In all my excitement, I pointed at him and shouted... "You're Richard Pryor!" just as his head leaned forward and my finger went up his nose. "Yes I am", he replied, rather startled, then darted into a nearby bar... it was either his intended destination or the first door he came upon to make his great escape from me... a seemingly crazy fanatic.

Thankfully, as an adult, I've become more subtle and reserved with my interactions with famous people. While in the audience of an American Music Theater production of Hydrogen Jukebox, I noticed Philip Glass, the composer, and Allen Ginsberg, the poet, both creators of the piece, sitting two rows in front of me.

This time I patiently waited for the performance to end before politely asking both men if they would please sign the libretto I was holding. I offered my pen, but each reached into their pockets for a pen of their own. Few words were exchanged except for my appreciation of their work and their signatures with 'thank yous' on their part for the compliments.

But my ultimate act of sophistication and composure came when I met David Morse, the actor, in Whole Foods Market in North Wales, PA.

No fingers were pointed where they didn't belong and no blurted awkward comments were said. Instead, as our eyes made contact, I simply smiled and he smiled in return as if to say thank you for recognizing me and allowing me to buy my rice milk like any other ordinary healthy person. And when we met again, a few minutes later in the produce aisle, we exchanged larger grins as if we were long time friends who moments ago had  a lengthy conversation and were just passing for a second time. It was personally a refined and gratifying encounter.

But the most personal experience I ever had with a famous individual occurred when the Dalai Lama made his first visit to Philadelphia and Michael and I, along with a small group of people, were responsible for making his event memorable.

We arranged seating and potted plants for his appearance at Independence Hall and prepared banners and stage sets for his talk at Irvine Auditorium at the University of Pennsylvania, along with personally overseeing that His Holiness had a comfortable and inviting hotel suite with exotic flowers and a live goldfish which came with a small goldfish bowl. When the lecture was over, a few of us were invited backstage to meet the Dalai Lama who shook our hands and graciously thanked us for all our efforts. And swiftly he was ushered off stage through a back door surrounded by an entourage of bodyguards... none of whom were associated with Elvis.

What's with our fascination with the famous?

Even those who are famous have a fascination for other famous people. In Craig Brown's book, 'Hello Goodbye Hello... A Circle of 101 Remarkable Meetings', he mentions: Madonna's desire to become a dancer by enrolling in the Martha Graham Dance School and her fascination with meeting Martha Graham,... James Dean offering a seat at his table to Alec Guinness and his wife after seeing them being turned away due to a fully booked restaurant, with some odd psychic moments shared between them,... and the Beatles who idolized Elvis and visited him while he was staying in a Frank Lloyd Wright house rented from the Shah of Iran. Speechless, at the time, all the Beatles could mouth was... "Wow! That's Elvis!" And equally impressive to them was Elvis's ability to change channels on his television without getting up from his seat. The Beatles had never before seen a television remote control.

Over the years I've become a bit less interested in the glamour and glitterati that comes with fame... not mine of course, should that ever happen. But I do think the days of picking other people's noses and oooing and ahhing for the rich and famous are nearing an end.

Unless... suddenly the Tardis should appear before me with Doctor Who... David Tennant, my favorite doctor onboard. Then I'd be sure to keep all fingers  in my pockets. Ya-'Who'!

Which brings me to a few questions...

Have you ever met a famous person or have someone in mind that you'd like to meet?

Imagine being able to invite any five people, living or deceased, to a party. Who would you invite and why? Hmmm... my answers change minute by minute, but for now, including Michael and myself, here are my guest choices:

David Whyte: Poet with 200 poems memorized and a mesmerizing personality.

John O'Donohue: Irish Poet, philosopher, priest, spiritually connected to people and things.

John Cage: Artist and performer with crazy innovative ideas and chance happenings.

Michael Palin: Former Monty Python comedian and world traveler.

Jamie Oliver: Chef and gregarious individual.

'Who' knows... maybe the whole evening will be so stimulating that David Tennant might choose to crash the party arriving via the Tardis, bringing along Dr. Who's writers and picking up George Harrison along the way.

I can only imagine the fun... fascinating stories, experiences shared by all and the abundance of delicious cuisine graciously and expertly prepared by Jamie Oliver himself. Surely, you didn't think I'd be cooking... I still haven't figured out how to shut the timer off on the oven.

This just in...

Elvis... actually his bodyguard has left the building...

and he's inside the Tardis.

How's that for my ending hook?

Drinks & Strangers

As a child, I was taught never to talk to strangers... never take candy from strangers and never, ever, get in a car with a stranger, especially with people offering puppies. The words played over and over again like a broken record. Occasionally, the warnings would cease as life got less perilous... the Russians hadn't arrived, just yet, bombs weren't dropping, this minute, and strangers weren't lurking to snatch up all the town's small children, ... until an unknown vehicle would be seen driving slowly through the neighborhood, and once again the messages would flare... Never Talk To Strangers... Never Take Candy From Strangers... and... Never Ever Get in a Car With a Stranger.

So it's ironic, as an adult, I've now chosen to read the book titled, 'Talk To Strangers: How Everyday Random Encounters Can Expand Your Business, Career, Income and Life', by David Topus.

While I'm not looking to expand my business or career, except maybe to increase readership on my blog, promote a book or my artwork, the sound of expanding my life seems intriguing.

When Michael and I first met, I was more outgoing, though not much. Michael was extremely shy. Over time our personalities melded and shifted... I became more reserved and Michael acquired 'the gift of gab'. I dubbed him 'Mr. Mayor' for his smooth congenial ability to schmooze... to talk to anyone and everyone about anything! Just ask Pat, the postman, Ed, the landscape designer, Robin, the mechanic, Barry, the architect, Steve, the policeman, or Angelo, the Italian retiree, or any number of people who have come to know Michael and who, on their own, are quite capable of standing around 'shooting the breeze' for hours on end.

So now after all the years of being  'Mr. Mayor's' sidekick, The Silent Smiler', I'm ready to change what has been ingrained in my cell structure since birth, of never talking to strangers, to now initiating conversations with people I've never met. Yes! Total strangers.

I began with a simple hello to passerbys on the street. When I got good at that, I moved on to asking questions, and then commenting on things to others. Before long, I was exchanging words with lots of people. The interactions were positive. I'm not sure why, but from my experience, people were not only willing, but often eager, to share something of themselves with me... a complete stranger.

With new encounters, came interesting tales.

There was this one conversation I had with a local librarian, who I've never seen talk to anyone, librarians or patrons. As she digitally checked out my book, 'People's Pops: 55 Recipes For Ice Pops From Brooklyn's Pop Shop', by Nathalie Jordi, I commented on how, as kids, our family version of an ice pop was to pour orange juice into an ice cube tray and freeze it. "I love orange creamsicles", she said. She actually said something! I responded with recollections of often chasing a 'Good Humor' truck down the block for an ice cream bar or orange creamsicle on a stick.

As she held my book and drifted off into silence, I could tell memories of orange creamsicles still danced in her head... only they weren't thoughts of the frozen kind but liquid... an alcoholic drink she used to order whenever she visited a certain local restaurant, now gone. I had no idea such a drink existed, but now know that it consists of ice, vodka, and orange juice or a frothier version of ice, Pinnacle whipped cream vodka, Sunkist orange soda, and Reddi-Wip cream.

I don't know much about alcohol, but Michael knows plenty... he's a beer connoisseur.

One evening while we were dining at Iron Hill Brewery in Chestnut Hill for dinner and enjoying a few beverages, I noticed a man standing in the bar area, taking a picture with his cell phone of a chalkboard illustration of the comic book character, Lex Luthor, also the name of the latest beer on tap.

"Nice Artwork", I asserted, as the man neared our table.

Somewhat surprised, he stopped and mentioned... that he had the exact Lex Luthor comic book at home, and that he just finished drinking a pint of beer with the same name, which contained 11.5% alcohol, a pretty hefty alcoholic content for a beer. Wow! A response I wasn't quite anticipating or capable of continuing as my knowledge of beer is limited. I'm an iced tea drinker, but Michael is more than capable of holding his own... beer and conversation.

The two of them talked for quite some time about, Dogfish Head's 120 Minute IPA and other beer styles. They were of like minds... comrades of ale. I listened, smiled, and sipped my tea through a straw.

Occasionally, I'll take a sip of Michael's beer when it's freshly poured, but prefer my drinks sweet, not hoppy.

It was Tuesday, while looking over the lunch menu at 333 Belrose Bar and Grill in Radnor, PA, when I looked up at our waitress and ordered my usual... an iced tea.

There was something in her mannerisms and youthful spirit that made me think we had a connection. While I'm iffy with names, I do remember faces. Halfway through the meal, as our waitress refilled my glass with tea, I decided to mention that she looked familiar.

We talked a bit, while she remained puzzled. I pursued with a line of questions until we discovered that I had been her elementary art teacher for one year before her family moved from Cheltenham to Radnor Township when she was just ten, fifteen years ago. She was shocked that I was capable of remembering her and thrilled with our chance meeting and very generous tip.

Small world.

And speaking of small worlds... last night while talking to my mother on the phone, she told me of an unusual experience she had while shopping nearby at Ross Dress For Less in Florida.

A woman holding a red blouse attached to a hanger approached her and asked for her opinion on the item. My mother told her she liked it and mentioned she too was debating on whether or not to buy a jacket she spotted on the rack. "Put it on", the woman said, then added, "It looks stunning and expensive"..."Buy it!". The two started into a real conversation and soon discovered they were both born and raised in Brooklyn, NY and shared a mutual friend who now lives in my mother's complex. Phone numbers were exchanged. All this told to me by the same woman who for so many of my childhood years preached... "NEVER TALK TO STRANGERS".

Approaching people I don't know is a challenge, but the benefits are great, often fun, and well worth the effort. You can almost feel the world getting smaller, in a good way, and a bit better, with each word exchanged.

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

Why Tall People Should Talk to Strangers in Target here.

Susie Rea's In Pictures: Talking to Strangers in London here.

100 Strangers Project here with flickr photo samples here.

David Weinberg: Why I Secretly Recorded My Life here.

Wiki How: How to Talk to Strangers here.

The Doors: 'People Are Strange' video here.

Have you ever had an interesting encounter with a stranger?

If you're an adult and shy away from interacting with people you don't know, why not give it a try. Start with a simple hello then post a comment and let me know what happened.

Oh yeah... drinks... I hesitate to ask, but feel free to leave a comment on this subject too... as long as everything expressed is appropriate and doesn't include moments of someone passed out under a table or dancing scantily dressed, on top of one.

Cheers!... Dyan