Einstein's Brain!

I love Albert Einstein... he always reminded me of a Koala bear, small, fuzzy, cute and unexpectedly grumpy but mostly good natured.   Add to that the awesome brain power, the intense curiosity and love of thinking, invention, compassion, regret.  Good humor, great hair and tweed suits... he is an icon, a modern god of playful intelligence that is at once blinding in its brilliance and shabby in the side chair.  If I get to choose what God-the-Father would look like, I'll take Albert any day.

And guess what?  On our roadtrip, in Philadelphia at the Mutter Museum, Einstein's brain is on display!  I am absurdly happy to know that, and to know that I will be able to see it- and with a bit of luck, photograph it.  Nothing of the mystery and pleasure of the image of Einstein is reduced for me by the gross anatomy- instead it is like visiting the relic of a saint...I understand pilgrimages and the desire to inspect some martyr's thumb.  It's wanting to see a part of them, try to know *why* they are different.... 

Yesterday Mother told me she lived in Philadelphia during the war, worked there maybe, loved the city.  I didn't quite know that- I knew Jack went to Temple University, and I think Gladys studied nursing there for a bit, but that is a whole chapter of family history that I don't know about.  There are so many stories I don't know and I would like to- I'm great at remembering what I experienced first hand, and much of what was told at dinner tables and in living rooms...but there are giant chunks that I don't know and would like to.  I'm not bored by it, I am fascinated...and would love to sit and listen and draw it all down, or read what is written (handwriting doesn't matter) or hear a recording- I wonder what happened to all the recordings that Jack and Dad made.  They used to send letters back and forth via tape recorder.....  at the time I wasn't interested, and I don't know what became of them, if anyone bothered to save them- or the recordings of the old ladies at Eiffler house, other things.  I have all the photos, all the letters written to me, family trees and even the collection of hair- but not those.  I wonder what was on them.... I know Dad loved to write, to tell stories and was very good at it- I know Jack loved to think, to talk, to collect information.  I do both in my own way- this blog is like diaries and letters, an open book, and information?  I have tons. And heaps. And gobs of it~ I want to know everything.

I wonder what it would be like if my family had the internet as a communication tool back then- I can see Dad loving to write, keeping a blog, sending emails.  I can see Mother avidly a fan of pintrest and polyvore- using her skills of design and taste to collect and create for herself and others.  I can see Jack still able to work and research and discuss without the limits of the bed and body- but part of the collective conscious, shaping the way we think. I really think that in another world and time, they would enjoy these tools immensely, find that the ease of creation and communication is accessible to everyone.  It is one of my things, this wanting to know- this wanting to time travel back and see and know what everyone thought about, listen more closely to the stories, explore the scary rooms and closets of Auntie Lou's house, discuss the psychology, thought and science with Jack.  Make art with Mother, let Granny Wrye make me over just once, go antiquing with Aunt Gladys, explore the desert with Uncle Don.  Listen to Popop talk about the old country and soccer and the mills, be quiet and still and listen to the stories adults tell when they forget you are in the room.  There was so much I don't remember and didn't understand- and want to know.  History is my family treasure, stories are my heirlooms.

Test Farm Road

Yesterday was beautiful- bright and sunny, warm- it was supposed to get all stormy, but that was delayed until now and I ended up playing all day instead of working.  Not by intention, exactly, but I decided to go to the Dollar Store to get some things for the NYC trip.  Nothing much, just the stuff I always forget- toothpaste, bandaids, cold meds, you know, small toiletries.  Then- because the dollar store parking lot was crowded and I parked on the side- I drove around back for an easier escape.  I ran right into distraction #1.

I love abandoned places~ and there was a small abandoned building *right there* in a field.  It looked like a tractor shed, but in front was a blue metal folding chair and a toilet- I decided to take a photo.  Turned out that the building was a homemade house, unoccupied.  Mostly just fallen boards, but some odd things left behind- pictures on the wall, an empty desk, a hardhat, welding mask, two Singer sewing machines in table cases- one of which was an old pedal machine with the lovely scrollwork iron legs on the case- rusted into oblivion, but one day quite a prize.  Horseshoes fixed to the wall for clothing hooks.  Tapestry dining room chairs broken and rotted, but quite elegant still. Strange combination of things for a house in a field.

Then I went to the Mexican bakery (which is becoming more of a bakery/botanica- hooray!) for some Flordia water since I was all smell obsessed yesterday.  That accomplished, I decided to drive out to the daffodil tree and pick some wild ones for Turrello...and I took a different way.  I still ended up on Railroad Street, but for the first time I noticed that there was *something* behind the wood line where Test Farm road connects. I never explored that road because of the name- while interesting sounding, I knew (correctly it turns out) that it lead to one of the Murphy Factory Farm sites.  These are feed/ hog farms and the testfarms tend to lean towards genetically engineered crops/critters, sounds interesting, but nothing to see but metal barns and fields with numbers.  There are usually hidden by woods/land and this was no exception.   To explain a bit about the terrain, railroad street follows the line of the railway- which now stops in Wallace.  There is still the elevated track bed and bridges, the depots in Willard and Burgaw, but the railroad itself is long gone.  Because it belongs to the state, it has grown up mostly in trees that block everything when in leaf.  Today though was exceptionally clear, I was looking from a different angle and I saw......the barn.

The barn is *not* a typical Southern barn.  In fact, I have *never* seen this type of barn down here- yet there it was in all of its abandoned glory.  It reminded me of the great red barns of Pennsylvania, and it was still a bit reddish....and- all those silos- I had to explore.  Dutch Gambrel barns are built to maximize storage, facilitate snow/water shedding, and provide for extended sheltering/working with livestock.  They are expensive to build, and locally rather unnecessary- most barns are build in the Tobacco steep pitch style.  There are Gambrels in the mountains, but they have a lower roof line and are built of wood- and usually have adjoining tobacco slopes on the side.  This was irresistible- I parked Capone, grabbed my camera and cell phone and started through the fields.  (If you are worrying, stop.  I explore safely- not in sketchy areas, not when it doesn't look stable or safe, never without my phone and camera, and I leave no trace.  I'm careful and have been doing this for years and years now- so- no worries!)

The fields around the barn are used- they are low cut and full of early spring growth of mushrooms, wild chives, purple eyebright, dandelions and shamrocks.  Woods in front of the barn I am guessing at one time held a house that is now long gone- but there is the remains of a drive, and pivet has grown up everywhere.  I couldn't spot a chimney, so I may be wrong.  The barn itself is a beauty- again, atypical for our region because it is not made of wood, but brick, cement and stone.  (Stone! We don't have stone!)  The roof is not only a true Gambrel, but has ornate shingles- diamond shaped, but curved and with points- I haven't been able to find out what they are called yet, but they are *very* decorative for a barn. The second story had windows, and the top gables with cupola vents.  Five silos are around one side, two on the other, and there is another barn behind this one- a bit smaller and with only three silos.  I'm guessing from the foundation that this was also once a grambrel, but the roof was gone.  Both barns were used for dairy cattle- they still have the milking framework, water/food stations and can lanes.  Small side rooms have access to silos, and areas I suppose used for equipment. The barn with the missing roof still has moldering hay bales (no, I didn't go in.  Sneezing is not my favorite sport)- but the big barn is intact.  The roof has some holes, but the floor is cement and sound, and oddly enough, the floor to the second story is also cement (how did they do that?)- cement stairs lead up and the roof arches over head- huge, lovely beams.  The silos are empty, there are still a few things stored in the barn long ago and forgotten- an ancient bike covered in dust and cobwebs, a rotting horse blanket, tack that is nothing but the rusted metal rings and buckles.  A plastic target buck (with real antlers tied on) that is covered in moss.  Beautiful, strange.

My guess is that this is what remains of a huge dairy farm.  This is supported by the dairy barns, silos, proximity to the train tracks- fresh milk could be sent rapidly to Wilmington via train.  The dairy was obviously very successful at one time- I wonder what happened, and how long ago they were abandoned.  Why they weren't either preserved or torn down- though I am very glad that they still stand. I will do some research- I like to know the stories.  Maybe Charles's dad will know- he is a local history kinda guy, but more in the Penderlea area than here.  I should like to go back there and paint it, photograph it some more, someday, someday. 

Scents

I am picky about smells.  I dislike commercial perfumes, artificial scents, sweet smells (unless it means actual cookies are baking), over the top fruity-floral.  I like herbal smells, wood, spices, 'green' (things like grass, hay, pine, rosemary, eucalyptus), citrus, natural flowers (except gardenias, jasmine and freesia- way to sweet).  Favorite flower smells are geraniums, daffodils, rose, violet, mock orange- but I like them mixed with some spice or green.  I love the smell of the sea, hot sand, paint, cedar, leather, ginger, linseed oil, curry, garlic, pepper, cloves, fresh cigarettes, burnt matches, tea, coffee- but no thanks to new car, cigars/hookah stale smoke, patchouli, musk, fake apple and most anything labeled 'tropical'- unless it is just plain coconut.  That's great- 

The manz is incredibly sensitive to smells for a smoker- and that is so strange because he picks up things I do not- things that are usually classified as 'bad smell get it away' such as: the doggs, feet, burnt toast (anytime we use the toaster oven he smells burnt toast forever- even though toast was never burnt in it-), some of my art supplies (oh no!  It's the stink ink!).  Odd thing is that Turrello the cat is exactly like him- sniffs like a bloodhound, comes running to smells.  When we come home from everywhere the cat has to sniff us all over along with anything we bring new into the house.  He loves to smell our food (rarely tastes it- just thoroughly smells), is particularly attracted to the smell of certain colors of my paint (blue watercolor is his favorite- he even tries to lick it), but his over the top favorite smell has to be daffodils.  This has gone on since he was a kitten, and his first springtime- since he is an indoors-only cat, we attributed it to 'outside- what is that?' curiosity.  But the next spring it was the same, and this early spring that we are having- I brought in our only blooming daffodil for him on Valentines day.  Joy!  Cat Joy!   Much sniffing- we held it out to him until we got tired, then put it in a small vase on the book shelf where he extended his cat self as much as possible in order to smell it.  When I get up in the morning he has raced out to the studio and must smell his flower first thing.  It's been a few days and the daffodil is dried now- I will go out in search of others today (they are my favorite spring flower).  Never have seen a cat smell like this.

So, in my quest for good smells I am experimenting with creating my own.  We have a candle plate- a small lowtemp hot plate made to put candles-in-glass on.  It melts the wax and releases the scent without burning the candle- lasts longer, no smoke, safer supposedly.  With the bonus bonus that I always have melted wax to use with art~ hooray!  It was awesome at first- during the fall when there are the sharp scented candles like apple cider (which smells not so overpoweringly of artificial apple, but rather apples, woods and spices) and pumpkin.  When Christmas came it became harder- the pine candles usually smell like car-trees, the food scents are to sweet and disappointing when you discover that the cookies/pie/cake/gingerbread are imaginary, and then it dissolved into spring scents that tend to be overly floral sweet or perfumed.  And we've noticed over the years that the scents don't seem to last as long- and we have tried a variety of candles- it has become frustrating.  We also tried the reed diffusers but they tend to be either to strong (especially when the cat knocks it over) or dry out because I forget to flip them.  When I clean, I use Flordia water in the mix (and the rosemary soap when I have it- I am out now, and the only place I can get it is at Enams, which requires a trip up to Grifton.  On pinterest, I read about how to make scented oil lamps using dried orange peels- and I have since been obsessively learning how to peel oranges into perfect bowls and drying them.  It's kinda hard to peel an orange into a perfect bowl, so I also dried all my mistakes- I have a tin of them at home now, and more drying at school.  

What I have done this morning is to gather all of the dried bits at home, cut them small with kitchen shears and then grind/mash them in my mortar.  I added some dried rosemary from the yarden, and have a jar of wax melting on the warmer.  I intend to add this all together and hopefully end up with something that smells good. I did go investigate and sniff various commercial candle scents, but they are artificial, expensive and ....just not what I want.  I could get essential oils- and should like to- but that again requires a trip to Enams or downtown to the smelly-store (which is a wonderful place, but very expensive.  They have all sorts of oils though and do custom blends- that you can then have made into perfume, lotions, salts, whatever- but again, expensive.)  In the meantime, it costs nothing to experiment with what I have on hand.  And it makes me feel happily witchy on this morning of a changing day.  (The weather for this weekend includes: sun, highs above 70, seriously strong thunderstorms with high winds this afternoon, extreme drop in temperatures and a very likely chance of sticking snow by tomorrow afternoon. Go figure.)

As usual, I have an abundance and beyond of school work to do- but right this moment I am feeling domestic and in the mood for making, drinking coffee, writing and cleaning....all nesty.  Maybe venturing out and taking photos, finding daffodils for the cat.  Documenting this day and making lists- I would even be up for a road trip to Enams, but timewise- to much work, and would rather not be on that road in heavy weather.  Besides, perhaps I can find a cool botanical store and interesting smells on my journeys- or in my own back yard.

Adventures Ahead!

Brutus Capone (CrowCarII)

A long overdue introduction to our new car, Brutus Capone.  I also call him Crow Car, because he is the same shifting black color as crow feathers- sometimes blueish, greenish, changing constantly with the light and the sky.  We bought him back in October- he is a Chevy HHR, which has the same designer as the PC Crusier, but is a larger car.  I love the retro look of him, echoing up images of gangsters (thus his name).  He is mighty, mighty hip and equipped with all sorts of modern bells and whistles.  Can't wait to take him on a really long road trip- we intend to visit Texas this summer, and if the lottery comes in, who knows where we will go?

I love adventures.  I absolutely love getting in the car and driving and finding something new- even if it is just my daily trip to school and back, there is always something new to see.  But my real love is for long road trips, hours and hours of driving and discovering everything all around.  I'm sure this is a result of endless travelling when I was young, and carsick though I was (terribly so. Still get car sick easily- I can manage if Charles or Melissa is driving and the road is straight, but in the mountains I get sick even when *I* drive. No fun).  Anyway, that is beside the point- the point being that the will to go is what is important to me, and the discovery.

At the end of this month Melissa and I are going to the National Art Ed Conference in New York City- we are presenting (on Saturday morning, in a prime-time spot! Yay!) and will do the expected conference stuff  (presentations, the main speakers, hit up the vendors for our yearly supply of totebags, hobnob with others) but the best part about it is the trip and the chance to explore.  We are leaving a day early so we can visit Philadelphia and see the Liberty Bell, thus satisfying Melissa's crush on Ben Franklin.  Melissa is doing the driving- she has a new amazing momvan that has everything including room for all of our treasures.  (Remember, our treasures are different from other peoples- don't expect bags of clothing from Bloomingdales or Sax Fifth Avenue, but rather odd found things~ hubcaps and branches, plant clippings, books~ who knows?  We were obsessed with collecting bags of dirt when we did the New Orleans trip).  And that is the key to my kind of adventuring.

I'm not one for mainstream tourist sights- fortunately I have seen most of them when I was a kid (with heavy emphasis on Natural Wonders and Battlefields)- but rather for the curious odd things.  Things not on the basic agenda of most people- I respect the worth of the established, but I'm always looking for something new, which results in trips to strange places.  What I want to see on the trip:  Willowbrook Asylum on Long Island, Harts Island, Randyland at Coney Isle, The store featured on the TV show Curiosities.  The Morbid Anatomy museum (which is not 'morbid' but a collection of antique anatomical and medical illustrations, models, tools...one of the things I collect).  But I'll be happy seeing anything, anywhere- taking lots of photos, trying new foods.  (I know there will be new foods *somewhere*- I'll try anything once, almost.  With the exception of Balut. ew.)  

These adventures are so important to me.  On one hand, there is the practical-sensible aspect that speaking at a national conference is good for the career, which I like to keep 'healthy and well groomed'.  On the other hand is the infusion of experience- thoughts, sights, sounds, tastes- difference.  I love my home and my life very much, but I need those infusions of adventure in order to keep my brain catalyzed, to feed it something new that cannot be gained by just reading or watching, but only by doing.  And it is never quite what is expected, and I never know how the experience will translate into knowledge, art, teaching, writing, creating- but it does- and it is always worth it.  Always.

Sorting obsessions

First off, I didn't take this picture, although I like to think that it is something I would of taken.  Instead it is one of my pinterest pins- and that is what I am really going to write about today, even though the strings successfully communicates the idea behind it all- and that is my obsessions with collecting and sorting.  I wonder about this sometimes- I am going to see Dr. Mike today so I may talk to him about it- I'm curious.  I've always been a collector of things- have written about that many times- and have a new obsession, pinterest.

Pinterest is my absolute favorite new technological toy.  It is a social network, but organized visually through shared pictures and themes- not your own images so much as those you find and like all over the web.  You can instantly collect them into the categories you determine, and share with the community at large.  It's rather hard to put in words, but when you see it, you understand instantly how it works.  For me, it's like an image based sketchbook where I can gather research, images, references and everything I like in one place.  And that act of gathering is what I am thinking about now.

I love to collect- when I gather, it provides me with a calmness and a sense of safety, and I often take it happily overboard.  Thank God I like natural objects, old books and junk- otherwise I would be broke.  And I work hard at managing these collections so I don't turn into a hoarder. I try to transform and give away, and display- our home, my classroom and office are cabinets of curiosities- full of all this interesting jetsam.  The kids at school love it- they tell me that my room is the best place in school because it is interesting, comfortable, and welcoming....that makes me happy.   And the virtual collecting place of pinterest allows me to collect without actual possession, fulfilling the need while maintaining my money and space. No one seems to care if I get carried away and collect thousands of things, all sorting according to my own logistics and connections.  Some people even like them.

On days like today, where I wake up and I'm already frustrated- lots to do, have to be at school early and endure an annoying day of monitoring my freshman home room while they do busy work that will take all of 15 minutes (I have them for three and a half hours).....then short classes, grades due, tutoring, PDP reviews before school, group work for ECU probably tonight (after 8. live on line. no one seems to realize that my brain does not function after 8pm- I am ready for bed).  And of course I'm worried about the usual things- taxes (must do them this weekend!), financial aid (must do that as well), money (vanishes at the speed of light)...well, I'm anxious and stressed and impatient and just grrrrrrrrrrrr right now, which is not a good omen. And I want to have a good day- I have no excuse not to.

Yesterday was wonderful- I recorded the live class early so I didn't have to go online at night to teach, then came home to spaghetti and garlic bread, grapes and one forbidden chocolate heart.  The manz gave me a beautiful card that he made himself (it had little doors), with a love letter inside- which charms me entirely. We curled up and watched tv (no, nothing romantic- instead a sampling of my favorite CSI type shows- I'm not big on romantic stories, give me a good murder any day).....comfortable evening at home, loved it all- so I don't know where all of this is coming from today.  Collecting worked a bit this morning, but then I wasn't able to transition well, the writing here seems all slow and stumbly, and I have to wash my hair. (I've gotten to *hate* washing my hair.  Why? again, no clue- except there just never seems the right time to do it.  If I wash at night, it gets all strange when I sleep, if I wash in the morning, it takes forever to dry-) just another thing I need to just go ahead and do instead of dwelling on it.

And I think that is my solution for today.  Just go ahead and get it done, it won't take as long as expected, and you will feel better.  Grace in action and all that- off I go.

Valentines day~

Valentines Day.  Something that most people either love or hate, or just feel obligated to.  I always loved it, the colors, heart shaped everything (but especially the heart shaped boxes of mystery-chocolates), the roses, the old fashioned over-the-top Victorian style cards.  Candle light. My Mother was one of the lucky ones- she was always gifted with caramels, roses, dinner, romance- being unapologetically  romantic was one of my Father's strengths. He enjoyed it- making the memory, the moment, sparkle.

I think that is why I like the holiday so much.  The holiday itself, even in it's commercialized American way- perhaps *because* of it's commercialization- calls attention to love/romance on a grand scale.  Yes, it can be looked at negatively as an excuse to sell candy and cards, to support the florist industry mid-winter, to make people miserable trying to live up to expectations and exotic lingerie.  BUT, none the less, it keeps the ideal of romantic love alive.  The possibility of love for the sake of love- without conditions or expectations or all tangled up with money and sex and the complications that come along with daily life.  Love. 

It's easy to say 'I love you'.  We say it all the time- to each other, in reference to football or chocolate or shoes, we love objects and ideas and activities. I say it quite a bit, and I mean it when I say it- in all the different ways it is one of my favorite words, expressions.  I don't think that cheapens it, or over uses it- it is for me a connection, a message of reassurance, of another persons importance in my world.  Different levels, different degrees, but love is love- 

Romantic love is a different aspect, and includes creating your own type of mythology about what love is, who the other person is, how to express it.  It is~ the aesthetic of love.  Love as an artform, crafted with care in music and words and taste and vision and scent and touch.  Something to enchant all of the senses and create a world unto itself.  A holiday for the heart.

Good Dogg

Cody

Barbie called me Saturday- and I didn't hear the phone, was sleeping the fever off (have an ear/throat thing going, mostly gone today) and manz was out talking to Chicken man..... anyway, no clue that the phone had rang until Sunday night.  But I did see her facebook post about Cody- he passed last Tuesday- a good dogg gone to rest. I remember him when Michael brought him over- he knew a few tricks, full of energy.  He loved reflections and playing 'flashlight' with Mother when she visited~ good dogg. Bless him with bones and soft beds, long walks and interesting things to sniff, balls to chase forever.

Our doggs are more than just dogs- which is why I spell it with two 'g's - it is a way of separating them from the ordinary to the personal, the members of our family.  My first dogg was Heidi, the curly odd poodle/dachshund  mix that won my father's heart, could do any trick ever (Mother is amazing at training doggs- even the wildest noodleheads learn from her), was the constant companion as I turned from a child to a flown-the-nestling.  Ginger, my parents other dogg that lived with me for awhile.  Sister Sue's Jenny, and Brandy, and the ever loveable Mr. Hank and graceful Daisy.  Barbies Barney the dachshund (who I never met, but whose story she tells of his sweet, sad, short life I know), Sadie, Princess, Cody and table-climbing Cash.  Bill's Valentine.  The doggs of Sue's kids- Axel, Remmington, Gus, Shadow, Emma and those I haven't met yet.  Aunt Glady's huge slobbery beloved Chumley.  Melissa's Mom's dogs, Jake and Josie, and Melissa's pack- Egypt, Bella (our Bear's sister), Roscoe.  Coco and Lacy out at the farm. And my doggs~ Mother Time, Marylin, Hoople, Fitzy, Ruffian (my much loved coydog), Elvis, Jezebelle, Max and Bear.  Others.

I wonder where doggs go when they die? I believe that they have souls- I believe actually that most everything has a soul, or at the very least, a spirit.  Even objects have their own spirits and stories- it is rare to find something that is truly without, though most people move through the world I think in a blindness to that.  Or maybe I'm just crazy (but I know better in my heart.  I'm not crazy, I'm awake).  Everything is for a reason and a purpose, and when things 'die' they do not end, they just change, pass on, become something else.  Something not so entirely different, yet not the same at all.  Transfiguration of the spirit.  Eternal life.

I don't worry.  Yes, I mourn and grieve like any one, but I don't worry about heaven or hell or salvation.  I am curious about what happens afterwards, and I don't know what it will be, but I do think about it every now and again, and wonder.  Do we create our own 'what comes next'?  Or is it what the collective thinks- a place of judgement and punishment, reward, forgetting, forgiveness, endless light?  Or an eternal cycle spinning in the dark, generating sparks of flame that shine then vanish?  I don't know- all of this and more probably- and basically, that is then, this is now, and *this* is where I need to be.  For better or worse, life takes care of itself and I'm sure the afterlife will as well- but in my mind, I like to imagine pleasant things.   Like when I dream of those gone- why, just last night Daddy was working on the lilies that grew by the back deck at the house on Minno Drive, talking about dinner, and I was telling Mother not to worry, that I would take (something?) down to Granny Wrye in the pigeon coop (her apartment). While I'm sure Daddy and Granny Wrye have moved on to better things, their stories continue for me in the heavens I create for them.  Does that make sense at all?  I don't know- but it is a comfort and a pleasure to my heart, these greenevers of the soul.