It’s an Oldenburg




Today is the birthday of Claes Oldenburg (born 1929 in Stockholm, Sweden), whose sculptures depicting soft versions of normally solid objects (like bathtubs and violins) and gigantic versions of small household objects (like lipstick and ice cream cones) have been critically successful as well as extremely popular and are installed in public spaces around the world. Some, like his giant clothespin and typewriter eraser, have also with the passage of time become mementos of a dimly remembered disappearing technology. His works elevate the pedestrian to the extraordinary and are lots of fun besides. Here’s wishing him a great big slice of birthday cake.


Move Yer Hurdies


Today is the birthday of Robert Burns (1759-1796), national poet of Scotland, who wrote over 900 poems and songs and collected and made available hundreds of traditional Scottish songs as well. This is all the more astounding when you consider his impoverished background, spotty education, delayed launch into literary life, and, sadly, his premature death at age 37. All over the English-speaking world today, Burns’ birthday is celebrated with recitation of his poetry; the festive presentation, and even the consumption, of haggis; toasts, speeches and songs; and a concluding round of Auld Lang Syne.

Although Burns is probably best known for his beautiful and poignant love poems, generally written in honor of one of the numerous ladies Burns admired, my offering today is a seasonal verse appropriate for a Monday morning in January.

Move your buttocks, you lazy fool. It’s breakfast-time!
Stop talking nonsense, you unmannerly blockhead.

Knitting/Nature Table


In the dining room we have a “nature table” that displays whatever the current season brings our way—violets, dandelions, seashells, squash. It’s where we set up the Christmas crèche, the family photos for Día de los Muertos, the pot of winter rye grass grown for Easter. And it’s been a handy destination for the acorn caps, seed pods, and interesting rocks that come home in everyone’s pockets.

The other day my daughter left her knitting project on the nature table. I was struck by the colors and fortuitous arrangement so I asked her not to move it until I’d drawn it in my sketchbook. She was patient, but happy to retrieve it.



Jurors’ Lounge Part 2

Being called for jury duty is never convenient, but there are two benefits. One is that whenever I have been empaneled and have served, I am each time impressed by the conscientiousness of my fellow jurors, the seriousness with which we all perform our job, and the fact that we live within a democratic system that calls upon ordinary citizens for this task. The other is that I get to pack a bag with work, lesson plans, and a sketchbook, and spend hours with them in a quiet room. And on my lunch hour I go to the National Gallery of Art around the corner.

This turned out to be a slow day, though, and a lot of us were dismissed mid-afternoon.


Jurors’ Lounge Part 1


One January a couple of years ago I was called for jury duty. (Hmmm… I ought to be hearing from them again soon.) As usual there was some sort of movie playing on the monitors overhead, but the woman assembling the juries was more entertaining.

New Year’s Resolution: Recipe


This was inspired by Deb, who last week hosted book club and decided to abandon all her tried-and-true desserts in favor of something new: an amaretto-and-apricot-glazed gâteau with fresh berries and vanilla ice cream. We were contented guinea pigs. (Deb keeps a far tidier kitchen than does Daphne.)



Something to Tell the Grandchildren


A year ago today over a million people converged upon Washington, DC to watch, or at least get as close as possible, even if it was only a nearby tunnel, as Barack Obama was sworn in as President of the United States. It was a day of extremes—vast numbers of people, below-freezing temperatures, ecstatic good humor. A splendid milestone in the country’s history: an optimistic, energetic, wise and good-hearted young man arrived willing to take on an unimaginably horrible mess. And it’s been like trying to clean up and repair the squalid and deteriorating family home of your recently departed mentally unstable grandfather while some of your cousins look on impatiently and others complain bitterly about the tile you chose for the bathroom.



Visiting the Hair Salon


I recently went to get my hair cut and I was fascinated by what was being done to the hair of those around me. All I ever get is a cut and blow dry so I am clueless about the other rich possibilities. I began to wonder how our fellow beings on other planets shape, color, and decorate the substances that grow out of their bodies. Is this a “universal” phenomenon?

Perhaps she was not actually using roasted red pepper hummus (it sure looked like it) but I bet that would make a great conditioner.