Bullet Points

Oops. My blogging skills are totally deteriorating. When I noticed it's been well over a week since my last post, I racked my brain for some witty or noteworthy events, thoughts, or observations I might share with you, Internet. But I came up short, and will instead resort to some classic bullet points. Over the past couple of weeks I have:

- Celebrated Janet's 25th birthday with a night of hearty fall food and beeswax candle making. Here's a picture of the birthday girl in action that I stole from her Facebook page:
- Convinced the landlord to repaint the ceilings which were stained after a leak caused by their faulty washer & dryer. A small domestic success.

- Waited in line for an hour for dinner at Westville with Jamie, Ned, Meredith & Lisa. There are about a million other fine dining establishments in the vicinity, but we were a determined bunch. After dinner, we went to Sweet Revenge-- a gimmicky but great cafe that pairs cupcakes with exotic beers.

- Babysat for a (very cute but) fussy, teething baby who could only be consoled by a) repeatedly doing the Hokey-Pokey or b) Schnappi.

- Finally bought a humidifier after several winters of vowing I would buy one for the next year. It has transformed my room from a dry, scratchy nightmare to a cozy, luxurious oasis. Here's Meredith enjoying its wonderful steaminess:If we Photoshopped out the plastic top, I think this would make for fine evidence of ectoplasm in a ghostly encounter hoax. Which, appropriately, is one of Ms. Bak's primary scholarly interests.

- Watched Sprout's nesting tendencies kick into high gear as the weather has gotten colder. It's not uncommon for me to notice she's left the room, only to find she's retreated to the bedroom to curl up on my pillow and snuggle under blankets. How she manages to do this on her own, without opposable thumbs, is amazing and cute. Amazingly cute:

In My Blood

Lately I've become quite interested in one room schoolhouses. I know, I know, dork alert. But I love everything about them: their aesthetic, their histories, and their educational philosophies. This year, a main item on my recently-mailed Christmas list was "anything about one room schoolhouses," which inadvertently sparked a mini-family history project. My dad suspected that my great grandmother Mabel (nicknamed Musee) had taught in a one room school, but after consulting my grandpa, I learned that it was in fact my great grandfather Joseph and great aunt Jessie who worked in one room schoolhouses. Grandma Musee was a classroom teacher, but in a regular, larger school. Nevertheless, how great is this picture (thanks, Grandpa!) of her and her class?
I definitely have that exact same expression after a long day of teaching...

Pumpkin Patch Field Trip

Halloween has come and gone, but Santa Barbara pumpkin picking memories remain.

You Knew This Was Coming...

My thoughts on Spike Jonze's Where The Wild Things Are.

I've found that people are having really strong reactions to this film. Reviewers are claiming it's too scary for children. Others are saying it's not scary (or compelling) enough. And many are saying it's not for children in the first place, but for nostalgic 30-something hipsters who remember reading the book as children. Which then leads to the question of whether or not Jonze and screenwriter Dave Eggers did an appropriate job of adapting a ten-sentence book into a feature-length film. Personally, I was disappointed at one big change: in the film, Max runs away from home and finds himself in the land of the wild things, while in the book version, his own room transforms into a forest, and the wild rumpus all takes place within the safety of his home. Nevertheless, I liked the movie an awful lot and have been thinking about it-- and the many varied responses-- quite a bit since seeing it.

Let me first say, I'm happy that a children's movie is garnering so many passionate reactions. Unsurprisingly, that didn't happen with other box office toppers like G-Force or Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs. We should be thinking more about what kids are watching. It's clear to me that Jonze and Eggers really carefully and thoughtfully considered childhood in their work, and attempted to create a unique film that both represented and respected how kids think and feel. Of course, they are highly influenced by their own nostalgic 30-something hipster interpretations, and Max (extremely well-acted by Max Records) definitely reflects that.

My own (very unscientific) survey reveals that Jonze and Eggers succeeded in creating a character that's familiar and accessible to kids. To determine this, I consulted an expert who I'd not yet heard from in any of the various reviews, articles and blog entries: a kid. Emma, age 9, loved the movie. To summarize, she thought that the monsters "looked exactly right," it was "the scariest" when Carol chases Max, that K.W. was "the nicest" wild thing, and that overall the story was "really, really sad" but that Max "learned a lesson."

So while I'm pretty positive that yes, Where The Wild Things Are is a great children's movie, let's remember that kids are individuals. Some of them will love it, and some of them will hate it. If I had to get more specific, I might say it is geared more towards older kids, and while little ones might enjoy the book, the film version is a bit too slowed paced. But that's OK, the wee ones can look forward to looking back on an old favorite story. Probably there are some kids who will feel bored by the film's unconventional plot and pacing; if they're only watching the standard Hollywood fare, they likely haven't yet been exposed to anything quite like WTWTA. Which only means directors should be making more unusual, thoughtful and artistic films for young people-- kids will rise to the occasion.

My Great American City

A few months ago, while hanging out with Maggie and Jamie, we got to talking about Jane Jacobs' book, The Death and Life of Great American Cities. I was intrigued by their description, and ordered a copy from the library. Turns out they did such a good job of summarizing it, I didn't really need to read the whole thing myself. I ended up reading only the first couple of chapters, but they've stuck with me.

Jacobs, writing in the early 1960s, talks about the misguided goals of urban planning, particularly how high rise housing in low-income neighborhoods are detrimental to a city's "life." She argues for the importance of sidewalk culture, pointing to the protective power of "eyes on the street." Unofficial patrols--old ladies sitting on their stoop, shopkeepers, kids playing in the street-- do the best job of keeping a neighborhood safe. Alternately, outdoor spaces that have been built in between housing projects with the idea that green space equals good space, have become dangerous sites for crime and drug use.

Yesterday I witnessed my own example of sidewalk culture. Upon returning from an early evening stroll with Sprout, I was met at the door to my building by John the Handyman. He had just applied a new coat of finish to the stairs, and it was still too wet to walk on. While waiting for it to dry, I sat with Sprout on the stoop. There are several familiar characters in my neighborhood, and one of my favorites is a sassy young-ish mom of two wild sons. She can be spotted strutting through the neighborhood, cigarette in hand, dyed orange hair slicked back into a tight pony tail. She's got an extremely loud voice and a terrible potty mouth. I was surprised to see her banging on the door of my across-the-street neighbors-- a handful of hipsters living in a basement apartment. It seemed unlikely that she knew them, and I figured her kids' kickball must have gotten lost in their backyard or something. Then I realized what was going on-- they had left their keys in the door. "Do you know who lives here?" she called to me from across the street. "Yeah," I answered, "I just saw the guy leave to walk his dog. I'll keep an eye out until someone's back." Just then, one of the hipster residents poked her out and retrieved the keys, gratefully thanking me and the pony tail lady.

I think Jane Jacobs would have been proud.

Farm City

I just finished reading Novella Carpenter's memoir Farm City, which chronicles the start of her urban homestead in Oakland, CA. In an abandoned lot in a not-so-nice part of town, Carpenter grew fruits and vegetables, raised chickens, rabbits, and at one point, pigs. And yes, the animals were for eating. Her writing style is extremely laid back and accessible, and it makes me wish she would invite me to a dinner party at her farm where we could sip homemade wine. Here is a great video of her that summarizes her book quite well.
I love that Carpenter so successfully incorporated elements of country-life into an urban setting-- it doesn't have to be one or the other. It's clear that if more people followed her model, cities would slowly become a better place to eat, and live. While realistically, I know I'm not cut out for the hard work and gross factor vividly described in the book, I do wish the book had a little bit more of "how-to," I want to build a raised bed to grow vegetables, too! I could handle that. And maybe some chickens some day.

Leafpeeping

Vermont Memories, #5

This view helped us all get in touch with our inner leafpeeper.