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Best way to wake up: breakfast with a friend, making faces with her baby, and Bailey's in your coffee. #Norleans

A Random Assortment

~ On phone booths and isolation.

~ Emily Dickinson's scraps of paper and jotted notes have been digitized! You can see drafts of her poems, letters she wrote, and even a donut recipe. 

~ I hate flying and I hate airports and I don't even think it quite occurred to me that someone designs them. Moby claims that Dulles is the second most beautiful airport.

~ From "Scenes from the Inauguration":

Last time, Aretha won the award for best hat. This time, the nod goes to Antonin Scalia. Senator Claire McCaskill turned to her Twitter account and called the Justice’s headgear “really weird.” It turns out the hat had been a gift of the St. Thomas More Society, in Richmond, Virginia—a replica of the one worn by More in the portrait by Hans Holbein. More, as readers of history and fans of “A Man for All Seasons” and “Wolf Hall” will recall, was the principled opponent of the Protestant Reformation who lost his head (and hat) after giving Henry VIII problems over Anne Boleyn. What the hat says about the way Scalia will vote on gay marriage and affirmative action later this year is not known. But we may guess.

(HT: Francisco)

~ Strauss, Notes on Tocqueville:

The real thing in Burke, the characteristic thing I believe is - and to that extent I agree with the older opinion about Burke which emphasized the connection between Burke and the historical school. That is the novel thing. The emphasis on growth as opposed to making, that was something radically new.

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The most beautiful thing I've read all week:

"For God is the Creator of all things: He Himself knows where and when anything should be, or should have been, created; and He knows how to weave the beauty of the whole out of the similarity and diversity of its parts. The man who cannot view the whole is offended by what he takes to be the deformity of a part but this is because he does not know how it is to be adapted or related to the whole."

--Augustine, The City of God

Also: Plato is making me feel guilty about eating sausage as I read about the City of Sows: basically, pigs are unnecessary in the original city. Once you add relishes in, you have nice things like sweets and fatty meats, as well as injustice and doctors to heal you of all the unhealthiness.

What Makes Man Different from Animals.21

"In all these things the only way we differ from animals is that we are upright, not horizontal in posture. This is a reminder to us from him who made us that in our better part, that is, our consciousness, we should not be like the beast we differ from in our upright posture."

--Augustine, The Trinity

NFP Class

To get married in the Catholic church, there are several requirements--you have to take a scantron self-evaluation about your relationship and your ideas of marriage (there are 150 questions, every five or ten questions, the evaluation asks in a slightly different way, "Are you really sure your marriage will be open to children?"), you have to do some counseling with a priest, as well as a premarital interrogation (not as bad as it sounds, but it does make you feel slightly like you got married right then and there without being totally ready when he asks you, "Do you intend to marry for the rest of your life?" [as a side note: the rest of your life is an unfathomably long time--this freaks me out a little bit--I mean, we could live for hundreds of years with all of these medical advancements--couldn't we just get married for five or ten years and then re-evaluate?]), and a pre-Cana class (which involves counseling from married couples).

The other requirement, at least out here in MO (I'm not sure if it's ubiquitous), is an NFP intro class. So, last weekend, Francisco and I drove out to the boondocks of Wentzville, MO, to hear more about cervical crypts and cervical mucus than I'd ever imagined. They let you go to an intro class for any model of NFP you like. Quite by chance (simply because the class was offered when Francisco was visiting), we ended up in a class for the Creighton Model FertilityCare System. (Incidentally, I must admit, I know very little about the differences between different methods and which one is the best.)

The funniest part of the class was that the (nice-as-can-be) woman who was teaching it was very nervous to be speaking to the 10-12 people in the room. In fact, at the beginning of her slide show, there was a diagram of the male anatomy. She giggled awkwardly and switched the slide quickly. And this woman was an RN--an RN who teaches NFP for a job!

My only observation about the Creighton model is that these people sure are into marketing: every other word in the slideshow was a registered trademark--things like NaProTechnology, CrMS, etc. NFP is a very strange thing to be into trademarking and selling, in my opinion.

Friday Phone Dump

 It was hard to force myself to take this book seriously because of its silly cover font.

The Getty--I took this picture for (and forgot to text it to) Francisco.

A still life at Myrrh's. 

And the apple dumplings she made me! My first of the year--probably of last year, too.

Mixed Nuts in Space (for #1tomatolover)

Also: Sigh. I invented these in my mind, only to discover they already exist in real life. #weddingplanning

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Wedding planning with Francisco is just too much fun/too funny not to share it with you all. From a gchat:

"i think we should get quotes from these people

and then ask them for further discounts

say we'll put them in the program or something

or put a little sign on the table

for 10% off"

(I love the idea of a wedding program tattooed with ads on the back, like bulletins at Catholic churches. We just need to convince people that our wedding is important enough that they should buy ad space.)

The Inaugural Poem

Some simple thoughts on Richard Blanco's inaugural poem, "One Today":

The title is playful, I suppose, but I sort of trip over it. 


There are some really fresh and provocative lines in the poem: "pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights" and

"one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches
as mothers watch children slide into the day."

But there are also lots of American cliches:

"every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal"

and "dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains" and "the unexpected song bird on your clothes line." There have just been too many birds on clothes lines over the years. But I doubt that the problem is Richard Blanco--I just think that writing a patriotic poem must be the hardest thing ever: as far as I know, it's rarely done these days, except in an absurdly kitschy way. And then once every four years we need a really good inaugural poem. And how do you appeal back to the tradition without using lines like "for amber waves of grain"?

Blanco did squeeze quite a few energy sources into not too many lines--oil, coal, windmills. I guess using energy is a traditional American activity. I really wished he'd talked about fracking. 

There were a couple of biblical resonances--"Thank the work of our hands" and "One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes."

I was ambivalent about the personal references he made. I don't even think Walt Whitman gave us that many life giving strokes of personal fact (as my high-school English teacher used to call them).

The poem gelled nicely with Obama's themes of unity and education. I guess maybe Blanco got a draft to read in advance.

The Inaugural Address

A couple of brief, non-mind blowing thoughts: In this address, Obama appeals repeatedly to tradition and to an American idea. And he has the right idea of tradition--that it doesn't require not moving or changing, but rather requires change as that tradition is applied to new circumstances. I'm a big fan of obligations to posterity: "We, the people, still believe that our obligations as Americans are not just to ourselves, but to all posterity." (This seems to be a primary foundation on which environmentalism is being based--something about intergenerational justice.)

However, I was discouraged by his appeals to progress and optimism. Of course, it's not sexy, but if we're going to "save the environment," it involves sacrifice--a message no politician is eager to give.

This was also a radically democratic speech, that put him alongside all of us as citizens: "We, the people, still believe that every citizen deserves a basic measure of security and dignity."

And

"You and I, as citizens, have the power to set this country’s course. You and I, as citizens, have the obligation to shape the debates of our time – not only with the votes we cast, but with the voices we lift in defense of our most ancient values and enduring ideals."

On the one hand, how nice--to encourage the American people by putting yourself right alongside them. On the other hand, how silly--to act as if being president is just another form of being a citizen, and as if my impact on the debates of our time is comparable to Obama's. I mean, I know this blog has a rabidly expanding readership and all, but ...

Finally, I found this line confusing: "Progress does not compel us to settle centuries-long debates about the role of government for all time – but it does require us to act in our time." How is political action not a statement about what the role of government ought to be? Even if, as a result of progress, that dubious daemon, the role of government changes in the future, the positions that are taken through political action still say something normative. You can't just push aside philosophy in favor of practical politics, because practical politics still has a philosophy underneath.

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Happy day: I got to describe swimming hippos to give an example of a telos.

What I Hope to Get out of a Wedding

Three green dresses and a husband.

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"I do not think that this happiness has its source in the heart at all. It arises in a much more interior part, like something of which the springs are very deep; I think this must be the centre of the soul. ... The fragrance it experiences, we might say, is as if in those interior depths there were a brazier on which were cast sweet perfumes; the light cannot be seen, nor the place where it dwells, but the fragrant smoke and the heat penetrate the entire soul, and very often, as I have said, the effects extend even to the body. Observe--and understand me here--that no heat is felt, nor is any fragrance perceived: it is a more delicate thing than that; I only put it in that way so that you may understand it. ... I think I have read that they are like a hedgehog or a tortoise withdrawing into itself ..."

--Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle

Oceanside.3, Long Walks on the Beach

These things are unflappable! Although one did snap at me a little when I tried to pose with it.



Look at that claw/hook at the end of it's beak!

As we were having lunch by the harbor one day, a fog rolled in quite fast.





It was a little cold, but very pretty.



Myrrh blogs about some of these same days at Like Mother, Like Daughter.

A Random Assortment

Some tropical flowers in Cayman (and below)

 ~ A wonderful review of Iris DeMent's new "Singing the Delta" (which I'm crazy about and got for Christmas and will have more to say about when I've listened to it a dozen more times):

The first time I heard Iris DeMent, I was reminded of a sheep's bleat.

My only complaint with it so far is it's length--at about an hour, it's just too short.

~ On Pinterest, finally (thanks for the kick in the pants, Gypsy!): This makes me laugh.

~ So I might quibble with the terms used in this article--I think the author uses "happiness" to mean "pleasure," and calls "meaning" what I would call "happiness" (but that's probably only because I'm stuck to an Aristotelian definition of happiness). Regardless, it's interesting, especially on the relationship between children and happiness:

People whose lives have high levels of meaning often actively seek meaning out even when they know it will come at the expense of happiness. Because they have invested themselves in something bigger than themselves, they also worry more and have higher levels of stress and anxiety in their lives than happy people. Having children, for example, is associated with the meaningful life and requires self-sacrifice, but it has been famously associated with low happiness among parents, including the ones in this study. In fact, according to Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert, research shows that parents are less happy interacting with their children than they are exercising, eating, and watching television.

"Partly what we do as human beings is to take care of others and contribute to others. This makes life meaningful but it does not necessarily make us happy," Baumeister told me in an interview.

...

Baumeister and his colleagues would agree that the pursuit of meaning is what makes human beings uniquely human. By putting aside our selfish interests to serve someone or something larger than ourselves -- by devoting our lives to "giving" rather than "taking" -- we are not only expressing our fundamental humanity, but are also acknowledging that that there is more to the good life than the pursuit of simple happiness. 

~From the author of A House in the City:

In the book you talk about the importance of the threshold. Can you explain more about this?

What we perceived is that there is this psychological need for detachment from the busy streets of the city. This is created in a variety of ways. One way you can create it is like the New York brownstones, which have a semi-basement and some steps up, so you have a gulf between the street and your house. That creates a detachment in a very effective way and it’s also the way it’s done in Georgian housing. But it means that the street becomes a very public space, it’s not used in any private way. With something like the "potato rows" houses in Copenhagen [terraced houses on narrow streets, filled with picnic tables, trees and benches that become shared spaces] the street is quiet enough that you don’t have to create this physical detachment from the street. And then people start to take over the street as part of their private space.

The problem with most modern housing is that either it doesn’t create any detachment at all—it’s just doors on to the street—or alternatively it’s tall residential blocks which detach you from the street but then you have to get into a lift, and walk along several corridors before you reach your front door. So you’ve got all this weird anonymous space, which is neither public nor private.

 Yes! The [lack of'] threshold is my least favorite thing about most modern city streets. And it isn't because, as one urban planner once told me, people like rain forests and are looking for spaces in between the houses to run and hide.

~ What a man.

~ Is this true? I've always suspected them of being pernicious. Do they really grind them up and stick them back together? (Diana, my healthy food friend, be sure to read this!)

~ Ah! I am so jealous! A) This is the most beautiful wedding dress I've ever seen. B) She got to wear green to her wedding. C) That reception venue! The worst part: "Bride’s Dress ~ Custom designed by Bride and her sister and sewn by Bride’s mum." Sigh. (via Myrrh)

Happy

Iris DeMent's Sing the Delta, Gladys K. Bush's My Markings, a candle, and a vitamin taken with cold coffee I didn't have time to drink this morning, after a day of classes, a lunch lecture and L'arche. This is the kind of peace I pray for.

("[C]ommune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still. ... Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine increased.")

Oceanside.2, Sunsets and Animal Noises

I wandered just down the street from Myrrh and Warrren's house around sunset. I was talking on the phone when I heard some noise that I had a definitely never heard before--something like a loud, insistent grunting. I was super confused until I saw some things that must be sea lions swimming in the water and resting on a little platform.



I also ran into a pelican that refused to be scared of me, no matter how close I got to it. I was more scared of it than it was of me.



Speaking of odd noises, when we were at the mission, we saw a hummingbird. Myrrh told me that they make strange noises and it's true--at least these southern California ones. They make little raspy clicking sounds that sound nothing like music.




Another unique southern California noise is Ch-chə's rendition of a pig--it involves actual snorting, not the euphemistic "oink-oink" that you get in children's books.

Oceanside.1, Mission San Luis Rey de Francia

After leaving Dillard and LA, I headed down by train to visit Myrrh and Warren and their son, Ch-chə (nicknamed after his pronunciation of the sound of a train--his favorite thing in the world at the moment). We visited the Mission San Luis Rey de Francia, which was founded in 1798 (the church was built around 1812).

It is ever so sad--the interior is being renovated, so you can only peak into the church.

We walked around the grounds--there was an old washing area, and a cemetery and a fountain. There was also the oldest pepper tree (in the state? in the world?--wikipedia says the first Peruvian Pepper tree in California), but that part was closed off too.

LA.5, Olvera Street

Just before heading out of town, Dillard and I headed to Olvera Street, the oldest part of downtown LA. First, we stopped in Our Lady Queen of Angels (really it's Nuestra Señora Reina de los Angeles). The church was hopping--we walked in in the middle of adoration. And, when we stepped to the back to look at one very interesting sculpture of Jesus laying down (after He came down from the cross--there is skin missing from the back of His shoulders and from His knees), one elderly woman thought we were in line for confession and told us in Spanish exactly how the line worked.

(Dillard promptly informed her that she isn't even Catholic and was just looking around.)

Outside the church is a lively plaza with a mixture of tourist shops, historical buildings, and cultural events--one woman was playing a flute with a cute elderly couple dancing. Just behind this gazebo (which held a large nativity) was what Dillard and I guessed was a traditional Central American Indian dance. In the streets around the plaza you can visit the oldest existing house in LA and the old fire station, among other things.



After some delicious Mexican food, I boarded a convenient little train and continued my trip.

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Me to Sequins and Cardigan: "Guys--it's yoga and wine time! Minus the wine and you. Which is to say, not as good."

Cardigan: "No wonder it's not as good; that just sounds like plain old exercise."

Touche.

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Uh-oh: Mama Leopard just figured out gchat.

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Engagement subs with Norleans and family.

LA.4, Griffith Park and The Observatory

After two days of art, Dillard and I switched it up with some exercise. We went hiking in Griffith Park. Of course, as far as I can tell, in LA it's impossible to escape the views and the sun.



We went up and down some mountains, saw lots of skinny people with skinny dogs, got lost a couple of times, and asked for directions from everyone we passed. There were also more six packed abs than I've personally ever seen before. And what's up with hipsters hiking? You have to work really hard to look like you don't care and you're going for a hike up a mountain.



We went to the Griffin Observatory--once again you could see from the mountains to the ocean.



The architecture of the observatory is wonderful, as is its situation, proudly and staid-ly surveying LA, almost like a sphinx. 

There's a rotunda in the lobby...

...on top of a Foucault pendulum. (I'll tell you what: I remember the moment that I found out that "pendulum" was pronounced with a "j" sound rather than a "d"--it shook my whole world! What other words was/am I pronouncing wrong?! That discovery was just around the time that I was learning about Foucault's pendulum in school. I made one out of a tripod and a lazy susan. The discovery also shook my whole world--how cool to watch the world turn!)


The observatory was filled with fascinating exhibits like a camera obscura that projected a continually rotating view of the landscape outside (including the Hollywood sign) and this live view of the sun, where you can watch the movement of the sun's surface as it flares up in real time.



And this picture of the heat of our bodies. Well, I'm not exactly sure what it was, but there was a video of us in cool colors so I took a picture--here's Dillard and me (look at my nose!).

What Makes Man Different from Animals.20

Joy:

Both agree that joy is something much more than the bodily pleasures that satisfy an animal.  As Smith puts it, animals always “choose a pleasure over a joy.”  Aquinas, agrees, though with a philosophical refinement: “We do not attribute joy to brute animals”—it’s not quite that animals choose pleasure over joy; there’s no choice because they are incapable of experiencing joy in the sense that humans do.

--Gary Gutting, "The Joy of Zadie Smith and Thomas Aquinas"

LA.3, The Getty Center

I've been wanting to visit the Getty for years, but I knew almost nothing about it. I didn't even realize that there are two. Dillard said that we wanted to go to the Getty Center, not the Getty Villa.

We parked at a parking garage at the bottom of the hill, then took a tram up to the museum. Well, to the center: it isn't just one building--it's a complex. The design is lovely--it's like a mall with outside walkways, except it's a museum. Genius for the Southern California sunshine.

The architecture and the surrounding gardens are a rest for your eyes in between hours and hours of art. (I don't know about you, but museums always tire my eyes out--I get a headache after an hour and then need lots of breaks.)

And the views--sigh!--are incredible. You see a sweeping panorama from the ocean to the snow-capped mountains and the densely packed land in between.  



A couple of the highlights for me: This portrait of Baronne de Domecy by Odilon Redon reminds me of Klimt--something about the contrast between the presentation of the face and the patterns of the clothes and of the background. 

Edvard Munch (of The Scream fame)'s Starry Night. This night coastline is darker in person then in my snapshot. There's a lot of variation in the thickness of the paint. And there are colors sprinkled throughout that you wouldn't expect to find in the evening sky. I love the sporadic and uneven stars peaking through.






The museum has great rococo furniture, from candelabras to side tables to beds! Above: a bed that looks like a giant couch! Ingenious! Dillard is there for scale.

Below: Look at those plumes! I mean we're talking about Roman or British cavalry or somebody on horses helmet plume.

There were a couple of great photography exhibits, including one by Robert Mapplethorpe, and a great exhibit of Florentine art in the 1300s. One of the things that I love about medieval art is that I always learn more about Catholicism by looking at it. For instance, did you know that the Catholic tradition at one point was that Mary's house got miraculously moved by angels to Italy?

And this picture (below): I have literally never seen anything like it. I'm so sorry that I couldn't get a better shot. The description of the picture says something about communion flowing from Christ to His twelve apostles through tubes coming from his naval. 

I also like this crucifix--the black background and the sun and moon certainly innovative (okay, okay--he was following someone else, but it's not something you see a lot).