Why I Don't Go to the Movies

When someone asks me what's the last movie I saw at a theater, I have to answer that I don't remember. It's just too long ago. I think it might have been one of the 007 movies--one with Sean Connery--but I'm not certain. In any case, it's been many, many years. When I'm asked why I don't go to movies I give conventional, generally acceptable answers like:

1. It's too expensive
2. The closest movie theater to where I live is a 50 mile round-trip drive
3. There are no movies at the theater I really want to see that badly.
4. There always seems to be some jerk who won't stop commenting, a crying kid, and/or a ringing cell phone or some other distraction which ruins the movie for me
5. The snacks are too expensive
6. The air conditioning is too cold and I don't want to wear a sweater in the summer
7. The sound is too loud
8. The best seats (half way back, in the middle) are always filled before I get there
9. I can't put the movie on pause if I need to leave to use the restroom
10. The person sitting next to me always wants the armrest and/or someone very tall sits right in front of me so I have to lean over to see the screen.

Well, those are the reasons I give. But the truth is I am just so easily distracted by the big screen that I forget to pay attention to the plot. If it's a period piece I'm looking at hairstyles and clothing. If someone is wearing a handknit sweater that's all I'll pay attention to. (See Knitting in the Movies for a list of DVD movies which include knitting.) I'm looking at architectural details and listening to accents or choices of words. I look at how the movie was made-- colors, lights and shadows, point of view, depth of field, props, and angles of shots. In short, I'm paying attention to everything except the story.

No, if it's a movie I really do want to see I'll wait for it to come out on DVD. The smaller television screen isn't as distracting and I can watch it as many times as I wish and at some point I'll pay attention to the movie itself instead of all the details. That works for me.

Thunderstorm Warning!

There is a high possibility of thunderstorms this afternoon. I know this means we may lose electric service and so I am doing my baking and cooking now. I'm making a macaroni salad for dinner, cooking some rice for the left-over stir fry to put in John's lunch tomorrow, a potato salad to eat with sub sandwiches, and a blackberry crisp. As I began this morning I found I was out of milk, brown sugar, salad macaroni, and potatoes so I will need to go to the store when it opens at 8 am.

I plan to spend the rest of the day knitting and reading.

Blazing Heat

I don't generally write about the weather because, really, what is there to say? Well, today it's--- It is really hot! It was 104 degrees yesterday and the forecast is for 105 degrees today and it is really hot! And it's not cooling down at night either. It's 6 am now and it's 71 degrees outside. I have to rely on it's cooling down at night to cool down the house, but when it doesn't cool down at night it just doesn't work.

And did I tell you it's really hot?

The Best Part of Summer

The best part of summer is coming up. It's the time of blackberries, corn-on-the-cob, tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden. Every flower is in glorious bloom. The birds are singing their hearts out. Dawn and twilight are the most beautiful. And mid-day, when the sun shines down on us all, bright and warm. At night I stand outside where there are no outdoor lights and I see stars going on forever. I hear the children laughing and talking on the swings and slides and playing baseball and tag at the school playground a few blocks away. The bees are buzzing, the little wild rabbits hide under the snowball bush, and the birds splash in the bird bath.

Summer is truly here. Life is good.

Trip to Oregon Coast

John and I went to the Oregon Coast today, traveling to Waldport and down the Coast Highway through Yachats and Florence before heading home again. It was sunny with a cold wind so we didn't spend very much time on the beach, but we did take a lot of photographs. The weather was perfect, there weren't many people, and we had a wonderful time.

Backyard Flowers

Little Birthday Cupcakes

Yesterday John and I went to see his father who is a nursing home as he gains strength to go back home. It was his 89th birthday and we brought him some mini-cupcakes made by the local Cupcake Cafe. We didn't stay long as he was very tired and wanted to sleep.

Some Quotes

These are from Hannah Coulter: A Novel by Wendell Berry.

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Love is a great room with a lot of doors, where we are invited to knock and come in. Though it contains all the world, the sun, moon and stars, it is so small as to be also in our hearts. It is in the hearts of those who choose to come in. Some do not come in. Some may stay out forever. Some come in together and leave separately. Some come in and stay until they die, and after.

Life without expectations was still life, and life was still good. The light that had lighted us into this world was lighting us through it. We loved each other and lived right on. We sat down to the food we had grown and ate it and praised it and were thankful for it. We suffered the thoughts of the nights and at dawn woke up and went back to work. The world that had so often had disappointed us and made us sorrowful sometimes made up happy by surprise.

Anytime an eighteen year old boy tells you not to worry, you had better worry.

After each one of our children went away to the university, there always came a time when we would feel the distance opening to them, pulling them away. It was like sitting snug in the house, and a door is opened somewhere, and suddenly you feel a draft.

To be the mother of a grown up child means that you don't have a child anymore and that is sad. When the grown up child leaves home, that is sadder. Maybe if you had enough children you could get used to those departures but I never did. I felt them like amputations. Something I needed was missing. Sometimes, even now, when I come into the house and it sounds empty before I think I will wonder, "Where are they?

Driving Down Peoria Road

I work at Oregon State University and I always drive to Corvallis by way of Peoria Road. The road follows the Willamette River which means it curves a lot but then, that makes it fun to drive even if one is driving a navy blue SUV with automatic and not a little red sports car with a stick shift.

I drive by Mennonite farms with their neat gardens, clotheslines, orchards and houses with wide front porches, a blueberry farm with row after row of bushes full of berries, and then through the little unincorporated town of Peoria itself with its beautiful old church and its notorious speed trap. Yes, I remember to slow down.

I see flashes of the river as I drive and hawks hovering above grass seed fields on my right hunting for garter snakes and, on my left, others over the river looking for fish. Sometimes I'll see a blue heron and once in a while, a fox or a deer. I drive by the boat landing which is crowded with cars at this time of year. There is usually very little traffic. No tractors, no one tailgating me because I wouldn't go faster than the speed limit and no one dawdling, making it necessary for me to watch their driving instead of the scenery.

And even better, the drive will be almost exactly the same when I drive back home late this afternoon.

Rain

It's raining again. I fall asleep to the sound of rain on the roof, waking in the middle of the night when it pours and pounds in the gutters, hear it splatter against the windows when I wake, look through the raindrops at the little wet birds eating seeds from the feeder in the snowball bush, feel it hit my head when I look out to see if the apple tree is in bloom yet.

I am reminded of the taxonomy of rain Alice Hoffman mentioned in her book, The Probable Future: fish rain, rose rain, daffodil rain, glorious rain, red clover rain, boot polish rain, swamp rain, and the fearsome stone rain. Today's rain is somewhere in between a rose rain and a stone rain. It's not the hard, harsh almost pellets of ice we get in the winter, but it's also not a soft, misty spring rain either.

Quilt Show

I've spent the last two days at our church's seventh annual quilt show. I helped set up to display the quilts, worked a bit in the kitchen, spent time with old friends and made some new ones, and talked about quilts, raising children and chickens, gardens, recipes, and the state of the world. I ate homemade vegetable soup with homemade rolls and homemade pie with coffee. I took photos of the quilts and talked to those who made them or inherited them. I am inspired now to begin quilting again. I'd stopped when I began library school and haven't quilted in almost three years. I put a quilt in the frame a couple of months ago, but became distracted with knitting.

Rejection Letters

Many of my friends are applying for librarian jobs and getting rejection letters. They are smart, talented, creative, kind, skilled, full of energy and ideas, but they're not finding jobs because of the lousy economy. I wish they weren't getting rejection letters but, if they are, I hope the letters they receive are not harsh or impersonal ones. I hate those. They hurt. They really do. Those kind of letters diminish one as a person and they diminish the writer as well.

I hope that if they have to get rejection letters, that they get one like the one I received from Ravelry. Along with about a gazillion other people (actually about 1500, but who's counting?) I applied for a position as their community support person. What a fun job that would have been! I spent a few hours writing out my application and resume and sent it off to them on the very last day they were accepting applications, not with the expectation of actually being offered the job, but just because it was fun to do and who knows? You don't get anything if you don't ask, right?

Still, it was no surprise to get a rejection letter. It didn't hurt. Perhaps because I hadn't had my heart set on the job. Perhaps because I'd only applied as a lark and wasn't serious about it. Not really. Well, maybe just a little bit.

I knew Ravelry had sent out hundreds and hundreds of identical letters to all the other rejected applicants and in fact, they admitted it was a form letter. But still, their letter was gracious. It was kind. It didn't say "sorry, we found someone else and the position is closed". It didn't imply I was somehow lacking or inept or "what in the world were you thinking applying for this job!" After reading it, I felt okay with Ravelry. And okay with myself.

So for all my friends still looking for that perfect position, I know you will find it. It's right there, over the horizon. Be patient. It's coming. And I hope, as you wait, you do not allow rejection letters to discourage you and prevent you from looking and sending in more applications because that next one may be the one. I believe that. And, more importantly, I believe in you.

Happy Easter

Sense and Sensibility (and Socks)

Okay. I'll admit it. I've never read any of the works by Jane Austen. But that is changing after today. I begin with Sense and Sensibility.

And if you know me, you know there's more. I've also joined the Jane Austen Yarn Club. The first project is the Sense and Sensibility Sock, pictured here. I'll be combining two of my favorite pastimes--knitting and reading.

Courting, Marriage, and Valentine's Day

I know it isn't Valentine's Day yet, but in case you forgot think of this as your head's up. Here are some thoughts about courting, marriage, and Valentine's Day.

My desk, where you'll usually find me when I'm home, is next to a sliding glass door. There's a snowball bush at the fenceline where John has put a bird feeder and nearby, a bird bath. I love to take a break when I'm reading or knitting to watch the little wild birds. Yesterday there were two small birds on the ground, dancing and chattering, jumping up and down, bowing, and flying a few feet away from each other and then flying back. They kept this up for nearly five minutes. Clearly they were courting. It was both comical and endearing.
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I was leafing through an old magazine when I came across an article entitled "the secret to a lasting marriage" and, of course, I had to read it. There weren't any surprises. The "secrets" included playfulness, choosing to stay in love, unusual gifts, communication, going on dates, kissing every day, and having a sense of humor. The secret the editors judged as the best one, though, was "Marry someone you love exactly as they are and be sure they feel the same. That way you'll never expect more of each other than you are each happy to give." I thought about this and it's true, but only true to a point. The reality is that we change and grow as human beings and as marriage partners. We adapt to each other and, if we're very lucky, we bring out the best in both ourselves and in our spouse as we grow older. We adapt, we are flexible, we listen more than we talk, and, as the years pass, we have shared memories, private jokes, and code words. We continue to chatter to each other in our secret language, we fly away from each other and then back again. In many ways we act very much like the little wild birds I described above.
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I know there are some who don't like Valentine's Day and view it as being just another commercial holiday and another way for retailers to encourage people to spend money. This commentary entitled Don't Be My Valentine sums that argument up quite well. And I think this is true if one believes that all Valentine's Day means is chocolates, flowers, cards, gifts, and dinner out.

That isn't what Valentine's Day is for me. By mid-February I've become tired of winter. I am not entranced by snow or the idea of snow. I see treachery in ice, not beauty. I'm sick of gray skies, bitter winds, and cold rain. I long for warm sunshine, rows of hollyhocks, and sweet peas along the fence. And I know I'll have to wait weeks more for spring. Valentine's Day represents hope that spring will come again. And it reminds me that sometimes we have to live through some unpleasantness and hard patches and just wait and be patient.