Santa Fe 2025 VI

A final look at Santa Fe:

Kakawa Chocolate House:

Monochrome “Silver Iris” train car:

Cirrus clouds over the city:

Lesser Shakespeare

Twenty Years Ago on FITK

I attended a production of Shakespeare's Pericles, Prince of Tyre, at the Guthrie Lab today.

Toward the end of his career the Bard of Avon wrote a slew of crowd-pleasers (some with assistance) and this was one of them. A very popular romance, set in exotic locales, with shipwrecks, kidnappings and mistaken identities. It is certainly not without merit. Bill could still craft a mean sentence or two, even if the plot was hokey. One thing that struck me, however, was in the second act, when Pericles' lost daughter Marina is trapped in a brothel and expected to ‘take up the profession’ after having been kidnapped. She talks her way out of trouble, charms the Governor of Mytilene and persuades her captor to allow her to escape to a ‘house of honest women’ where she can be a teacher.

The forced prostitution of women, of course, was certainly an issue in those times, and Shakespeare’s examination of this issue in the middle of what is otherwise a somewhat silly drama is fine example of his insight into the human condition. Marina gains repute as a wise maiden and when Pericles lands in Mytilene, she is called to heal his depression, and ultimately she realizes that she is indeed his daughter and convinces him of that fact. It would be a mistake, I think, to read too much into this play but its over-all theme of goodness, family and redemption makes it worthy of performance.

Santa Fe 2025 V

Some posterized impressions…

Lotaburger:

Succulents:

Vanessie notice board:

Santa Fe 2025 IV

Market Day:

Santa Fe 2025 III

More from Santa Fe…

Doorway to Canyon Street:

Chandelier tree:

Eldorado Hotel:

Inn at Loretto:

Santa Fe 2025 II

Some random photographic impressions from yesterday.

Historic pots, Adobe Gallery:

Downtown Subscription:

The French Pastry Shop:

Santa Fe 2025 I

I’m back in the sunny southwest!

That’s Christian, a walking tour guide (at right) telling the story of how Santa Fe became the multi-cultural center that it is today. The Weaver and I are here for a midwinter break, as well as some fine dining during restaurant week. It's our fourth trip, which is an endorsement in itself; Santa Fe’s small town atmosphere and numerous cultural attractions (and being 40° warmer than Minnesota) make it an easy choice.

Our first fine dining experience was at Izanami, a Japanese restaurant located in the Sangre de Cristo foothills above the city. A far cry from the usual Southwestern fare but Santa Fe is full of options with over 400 places to eat out, which is pretty exceptional for a metro population of 125,000. The food fab, of course, even the vegetables were delish. Tempura Cauliflower with miso chile sesame sauce, pine nuts, and furikake:

More Santa Fe goodies tomorrow…

Boys and Girls Together

20 Years Ago on FITK

“… Now, children, we’ll play ‘Duck-Duck-Grayduck’, everybody gather ’round in a circle, that’s right, who wants to be the duck?”

Somehow it was so much easier then. Of course there were problems at times, but these were problems of immaturity, of childhood self-centeredness, not of aggression, spite or meanness. Boys and girls together, playing the simple games of childhood, the girls usually were a little more developed, so in the physical games the sexes were pretty evenly matched.

“.… duck-duck blueduck, duck-duck whiteduck, duck-duck greenduck, duck-duck GRAYDUCK!”

When ‘grayduck’ was said the kid under the ‘duck’s’ hand was chosen to run around the circle, chasing the ‘duck’, if that kid could catch the ‘duck’ then the duck had to try again. If the ‘duck’ could get around the circle to the spot where the chosen one came from, then the chosen one was the new ‘duck.’ It was actually more fun to be the ‘duck’, so usually kids allowed themselves to be caught.

“… O.K. class, playtime is up, time to go in… ”

Kids grow up, and play different games. There is still choosing and there is still chasing, and there are still boys and girls, but they don’t often play together in the way they used to. Boys and girls together, playing for the joy of it.

When was the last time I played ‘Duck-Duck-Grayduck’?

Dreams of a Winter’s Afternoon

Outside the white house in the valley
Mice are under snow, munching seeds
Sheep's bleating echoes across the valley
Insects, frozen in earth, have no needs

Outside the white house in the valley
The barn cats dream of munching the mice
All creation is slumbering in the valley
The snow like diamonds on rice

Inside the white house in the valley
The artist dreams of murmuring bees
Outside crows call out over the valley
Perching in skeletal and barren trees

Inside the white house in the valley
The artist awakens from her dream
Sips cold coffee and prepares her palette
A dream of Nature’s First Green

Image: Wanda Gág

For SLM

Songs of Love and Desire

A Valentine’s day treat for your listening pleasure: an album of ruminations, lamentations, and celebrations on the topic of Love: love lost, love found, and variations in-between.

Lyrics by yours truly (with the help of Wanda Gág* and my old blog-pal Reshma Sanyal**.)

The vocals and musical accompaniments were generated by Suno, an AI program.

For an audio-only MP3 download click here and then follow the prompts.

For complete lyrics (and a video!) of any particular title, click links below:

00:00 Bittersweet Smile ~ Link
02:29 *The Love of an Adolescent ~ Link
05:46 **just. call me. ~ Link
08:50 Winter Regret ~ Link
11:16 Ghost World ~ Link
14:10 **Twinned ~ Link
18:00 The Eternal Dynamic ~ Link
20:27 Christmas Love ~ Link
23:00 *Letter to a Lost Lover ~ Link
26:46 Wanda’s Surrender ~ Link
30:26 sad songs of love and desire ~ Link
33:53 Unfaded Love ~ Link

In Honor of the Dreaded V-Day and Being Single…

20 Years Ago on FITK

The Ideal Mate will:

1)  He doesn't have to watch all of my Peter Pan DVD, but if he could watch Chapter 14, and know it's my favorite chapter, then that's fine.
2)  Sing, whether he has talent or not.
3)  Treat every kiss as though it was his first and last.
4)  Know who J.R.R. Tolkien was.
5)  Not sneer at the idea of Europe as a vacation spot.
6)  Enjoy reading.
7)  Have attempted to learn a language other than English.
8)  Not smoke cigarettes, and give me a high five for quitting the hookah.
9)  Not laugh too much if I cry at the end of “Phantom of the Opera.”
10) Accept the fact that I have a slight Southwest Virginian accent.
11) Be allowed to mock my slight Southwest Virginia accent, because I do it all the time.
12) Think bad jokes are just as amusing as good ones.
13) Remember Autumn sunsets and keep them holy.
14) Be open minded.
15) Trust me, and I will trust him wholeheartedly.
16) Understand my silliness, and will gladly accept it as a contagious disease.
17) Know that I will try to tickle him.
18) Slow dance with me.
19) Not hold it against me that I want to slow dance.
20) Enjoy life.
21) Appreciate the joy of fruit.
22) Roll his eyes if I say anything relating to the name “Took.”
23) Know that 22 means he's listening to what I have to say.
24) Hold open doors. (Just once at least!)
25) Not laugh at me for being poor.
26) Love me for being me.
27) Be glad to walk under the stars.
28) Love talking until the dawn breaks.
29) Be Patient.
30) Understand that I despise Valentines' Day!

I don’t ask for much, do I?

By Comica
Reposted

Plum Trees

When I was very young the house I lived in was located in an odd little corner of far North Minneapolis. There were about 20 houses on our block, with undeveloped land to the South and West. Most of the houses had been built in the 1920s, so they would have been about 30 years old at the time. My best friend Kevin lived two doors down, that's his house in the above picture. Right behind the house was a plum tree, it had probably been planted when the house was new. In the late summer the plums would ripen and we would eat ourselves sick on them.

Years later, I lived about 40 blocks south of there, on North Fifth Street. That house had a plum tree in the back as well although, being in an industrial area, it was lonely and needed another tree to cross pollinate with it to bear fruit. Despite this, it did blossom, usually in Mid-May. One year, however, it was blossoming on April 21st. I remember the date because that’s the day I got married and the bride’s bouquet was made from those blossoms.

Years after that, when we had a family, we moved about fifteen miles north of Minneapolis. After we had settled in, I took the boys exploring down by the Rum River. There, on its bank, was a forlorn plum tree, broken down and barely alive. But full of plums.

Like the plums of my childhood, these were old-growth American Plums, not the European or Japanese cultivars. They were smaller, with a tough skin, but the flesh is tart and delicious. If I lived on some acreage, I would consider planting ‘wild’ plum trees, if only to relive that simple joy from my youth and the memory of my children discovering them as well.

The Giddings Gazebo Revisited

In the spirit of the season, here is a new look at this curious structure that exists in my hometown. It was built as a retreat in the middle of the Rum River in Anoka, Minnesota, by Thaddeus P. Giddings, a music educator in the early part of the twentieth century. This image was shot on a cold February night several years ago—the city doesn't light it so dramatically anymore.

They don't build such interesting things in the river anymore, either.

The Note

20 Years Ago on FITK

“I’ve thought alot about what you had to say, and I just wanted you to know that there are things about me that you don’t know and that I think I am not right for you. If you still want to see me it's okay, but I just wanted to let you know how I feel.”
~ handwritten note, November 20th, 1971

Nevertheless, we did move in together and her premonition was accurate. She wasn’t right for me. It took four years to figure it out. In matters of the heart, I finally learned to take people at their word. They usually tell the truth. If they can’t, you can usually see it pretty soon if you keep your wits about you. If they won’t tell you how they feel—up front and honestly—they have other problems: a lack of self-respect, a lack of respect for others (empathy), maybe reality distortions (substance abuse and/or mental illness.)

If you can have the same conversation over breakfast—cold sober, without make-up or frills—as you had the night before, with all the romantic trappings, then you’ll have a starting point.

Sooner or later you’ll have to face each other that way anyway.

… Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow?" ~ Goffin and King

Sourdough

A Novel
By Robin Sloan

A definite first—for me at least—a book whose main character is an exotic strain of yeast!

Lois Clary works at a software programmer for a San Francisco company that is developing industrial robots. She is over-worked and frazzled, subsisting on manufactured food—‘slurry’ with her only respite being delicious food she orders from a shady local delivery service. The sandwiches she devours are made of delicious sourdough bread and she befriends its makers, brothers of a mysterious ‘Mazg’ ethnicity, who have visa problems. They have to leave, but they gift her with the special sourdough starter culture that starts her on a road of discovery.

The story is set in the bay area—there are even two maps showing the locations in the story. Because it is set in and around San Francisco, her experiments are, of course, successful and soon she is invested in the food scene there and even manages to finagle one of the robot arms to help her make the bread (and make that other kind of ‘bread’.)  The sourdough starter becomes sort of a metaphor for SF and its multiculturalism. The story is augmented by texted updates from the Mazg brothers from London. While not exactly laugh-out-loud funny, it is pleasantly amusing, akin to a fairy tale at times, with the story moving along at a breezy clip.

Tasty!

Recommended.

UPDTE: The audiobook version has additional material, including machine-generated ‘Mazg’ music!