Teaching about the Internet

Tonight my class will cover a variety of features/services available through the Internet. We will talk about blogging, podcasting, chatting, shopping. . . it makes me feel like I have bees in my head. Once you get everything set up do do each of these things, its easy. BUT, the setting up can be multi-layered and confusing. And each function is fraught with dangers! Lurkers! Thieves! Stay tuned . . .

The Flying Mules at Joe's Cafe

I guess I am getting jaded. Or don't drink enough. Joe's Cafe, an art gallery in the City's West End (with live music on Thursday nights) reminded me too much of other venues. Lots of weird "collectible" type stuff crammed into a small space. Too much like Blueberry Hill but with more variety, too much like The City Museum but with more stuff. It was a pleasant enough evening. I was told that there was a bigger crowd and older than usual (Mules fans) therefore it was pretty noisy, unlike the sparsely attended gathering at Schlafly's the week before which was spacious and you could hear the band. So I am a bit selfish wanting a more personal concert. The crowd at Joe's was appreciative; the band seemed to be having a good time. In fact, they had wholeheartedly recommended the place as a neat place to go. "It's great. You'll really like it!" Mike likes it because it reminds him of Soulard in the old days, i.e. early 1970's.

I ran into friends Sam and Glen and caught up on what they were doing in the brief lulls when you could hear another person speak. I took such pictures as I was able, having forgotten to recharge the camera until too late to get a full charge on it. You can view the pictures I was able to save by using Photoshop at http://www.theflyingmules.com/photogallery/index.html
I might go back again if J decides to go and I know who is playing. Maybe I just needed beer instead of w(h)ine to get into the spirit of the place. Or I needed my pied piper of play to goad me into having a good time. It is an art gallery and I didn't explore. It really does deserve a second chance, especially since people I respect recommend it so hightly.
P.S. Joe's doesn't have a liquor license, its an art gallery, so bring your own refreshments.

Chloe

J is the neighborhood critter wrangler. He knows every cat and every dog and their names and to whom they belong. Late in September, he noticed a new cat in the neighborhood. A pretty little orange and white cat with a white diamond on her back and no collar. She was small, still in late kittenhood, we thought. We both started feeding her. J would play with her and she came running whenever he was around. I didn't like the idea of a young unclaimed cat with no shots, not spayed and with no one to look out for her, so I decided to take her to the vet. First, J and I checked to make sure she didn't below to anyone; we found out we weren't the only ones feeding her but no one claimed her.

I made an appointment at the Humane Society to get her checked out. On the appointed day, we set about trying to get her into the cat carrier. She is a strong and single minded beastie. I called the Humane Society and got another appointment. This time, J came armed with a heavy bath towel which he wrapped her in and then stuffed her into the carrier. She was not pleased but didn't complain.

The vet said she weighed 6 lbs. but that she is not a kitten. She is at least a year old. Poor baby. She was so scrawny! She got some shots and some flea medicine and we took her home. I was not crazy about having her in the house until the flea medicine did its job so J took her for the night. The original plan was to give her to a friend who was looking for a cat but after a night of bonding, J really wanted to keep her. Since his house already has 4 cats, I agreed to keep her. We consider it joint custody. I named her Chloe.

I kept her shut in my bedroom for a few days so that we could gradually introduce her to Puddin', my long-haired cat, and Bingo, my very large dog. Chloe's life on the street made her immediately defensive. She hissed and growled at everyone. And complain! My is she talkative! J says she is not complaining, that's just the way she talks but I know bitching when I hear it.

At her follow-up vet visit, she weighed 7.5 lbs. She gained 1.5 lbs in 3 weeks! She got the rest of her shots and we set up the appointment to get her spayed.

Now, after a month, she has full run of the house. She loves the basement; she loves the little rug-covered-stool-with-a-hole-in-it-cat-house; she prefers dry cat food; she loves to sit a window, any window, and will climb behind any blinds. She is small enough to fit on the narrow window sills. But she never goes near Puddin's fleece covered window seat. She knows sacred territory when she sees it. Her living room perch is on the back of my wing-backed chair. She wrestles with the little feathered kitten toy and pops catnip flavored bubbles that I blow.

The balance of power in the house is still in question. Bingo wants to play with her but, like Puddin', she will have none of it. J swears he saw Puddin' and Chloe take turns chasing each other and I am inclined to believe him. She doesn't growl and hiss near as much as she first did. She is not cuddly. She doesn't like to be picked up and complains when you do but lets you get away with it.

And she wants to go outside. Boy, does she want to go outside. I took her out one day, supervised her play and took her back inside after a little while. The next day, J did the same. The day after that, she paced around the house all day saying, "Can I go out? Let me out! I wanna go out!" If she heard the door open she ran to see if she could get out. Then, as I was coming back in the house after saying goodbye to a visitor, she shot through the door. My inclination was "she knows where her food bowl is" and to let her ask to come back in but I knew that J would think otherwise. I called him and he sighed deeply and started looking for her. He eventually found her cornered by Skunky, our neighborhood bunny-killer-cat. Now, I shut her in my bedroom when I want to leave so that we don't have a repeat performance.

Friday, the day after tomorrow, is her surgery day. All the cats I've ever had were already fixed when I got them so I don't know what to expect. And will the surgery change her personality? I'll keep you posted.

Beyond Square One

I have been meditating every morning. I took Bingo for a walk every morning but today. I am starting to think about listening to music (maybe tonight when I get home from work) and I am thinking about playing the piano. I have gotten off of square one!

And I am enjoying cooking again! Right now, I am looking for the perfect apple crisp recipe--one that doesn't leave you with oatmeal stuck between your teeth--one like my grandmother used to make. There are six pounds of granny smith apples sitting in the kitchen waiting for the next experiment. As I write this, I realize that I need to use white sugar, not brown (yes, yes. I know white food is bad for you but that is what grandma used) and I need to leave the oatmeal out and not get too carried away with the butter. The apple part is a snap: peel, core and chop a bunch of apples until they fill up the pan, sprinkle on a little sugar (I think I'll use Splenda this time). The topping: flour, sugar, butter and maybe some cinnamon. I can hardly wait

We are supposed to eat from 7 to 13 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. I'm lucky if I get in 3. Maybe now that I am off of square one, I can get myself interested in vegetables again. Tomorrow, I'm making celery khoresh. Maybe I'll dig out that cauliflower tonight and scrape off the brown spots, steam it and eat it. It is very good to be off square one.

J and I went to hear the Flying Mules Saturday night at the Tap Room. I had forgotten how good they are. Thursday, we are going to Joe's Cafe to see them again. John said he would pay my cover if I brought a camera and took pictures for their web site. Mike is bringing the wine. More on this later, for sure!

Committing to something

About 5 years ago, I found a meditation teacher for myself and embarked upon the path of mindfulness mediation. Then I stopped. It is time to start it again. It is one of those things that you know you need but it is so hard to start. Like exercise. It is, sort of, exercise turned inside out. Practiced non-movement. So if getting started exercising (focused movement) is hard to do and meditating (focused non-movement) is hard to do, what are we left with?

I am dropping out of a music theory class. For a lot of reasons but one is that I don't think it is bringing me any closer to the music. You can analyze a Bach cantata and never listen to it. What's up with that? I once took a volunteer position cataloging an astronomy library somehow subconsciously thinking it would bring me closer to the stars. I needed to just go outside and look. But then that became hard to get started. I got some good binoculars but I live in the city so you can't see much and I'm afraid to go somewhere isolated by myself (and so on, with a variety of excuses). So, for some reason, it is hard to turn on the stereo and listen to the music I want to get close to. It is easier to sit in a chair and watch mindless TV or read science fiction/fantasy books than it is to focus on real life. I don't have to read a book about Bach or about meditation or about exercising. If I really want those things I should just do it. I am fully prepared. Just commit.

The sun came out. I took a lot of pictures. Now I am printing them. It takes a lot of time. Who knew? Still, it is very satisfying. All my life, it seems that I have been involved in "have to do" things. This is like stopping and smelling the roses. A friend asked me if it felt good to find I have some creativity. There are a few pictures that I have taken that I really like. The ratio of good to not good is low. My instructor said that if one in ten is good, I'm on track as a beginning photographer.

My "theme" for my final project is the Loop in University City. Looking at my pictures, I see that I am an optimist, perhaps a bit of the pollyanna. I have a friend who would take pictures of all the young'uns in edgy clothes with lots of piercings and tatoos. I see kids and families, dogs and musicians, folks standing around talking to each other. I see the world as a benevolent place with room for everyone.

Of course, I am shooting on sunny days and, being solar powered myself, for sure the world is a benevolent place when it is sunny.

Waiting for the sunshine

As a student in a beginning photography class, I am supposed to take some photos in the early morning or late afternoon sunshine. I am sure the sun will shine again, won't it? We have had a week of grey, overcast days. Perhaps tomorrow.

I am making every mistake possible, in this class. The first camera I had, I borrowed from a friend. The film advance didn't work properly and only one shot was semi-worthy of being printed. The instructor said I must have shaken the camera because it was fuzzy even though the focus was set on infinity.

I bought a new camera and lots of film on the Internet. I took a roll of pictures in the morning and afternoon of the last sunny days we had. I used a tripod to overcome camera shke. I carefully logged my camera settings for each shot. Then I took it to Walgreens to have negatives made (the school lab was closed for Spring break and I really am not interested in developing film myself--it looks like a major pain). When I got the film back, I was told there was nothing on it. It was completely blank. After a bit of research I discovered that you cannot one-hour develop B&W film that is not C41. If you do, it wipes the film. Walgreens should have known better; I sure didn't.

Now I am waiting for a sunny day.

I am one of those obnoxious students that always makes straight A's. This is very humbling.