The plastic solar lotus Buddha next door

Love my new apartment. Been here a couple months. It has good vibes, maybe because of the guy next door.

My neighbors have a solar-powered LED lighted lotus Buddha figure by their front door. Sadly, the little solar collecting panels have been ripped out of Buddha's knees. I feel compassion for the Buddha, as my knees often feel powerless.

The neighbors with the Buddha hauled a couch to the dumpster. First they tried to get it out the dining room window. Then they took it out the back siding door, over the railing, and all the way around the building. 

One Sunday they loaded up a U-Haul, but they left the Buddha, a floor lamp, a green lawn chair, and a bunch of trash bags out front. Eventually the floor lamp and trash bags disappeared. Management sent workers to install new window blinds, carpet, and paint the place. Peeking in, I could see new black appliances waiting for installation. A van of women came to do a make-ready cleaning. Still Buddha sits out front. 

Since then a college student in a Yogi Bear costume has moved into another apartment. A family has moved out leaving a toy kitchen beside the dumpster. That delighted a crew of barefoot, unsupervised kids for a couple days.

A young woman hospital worker arrives home each morning about the time I'm waking up to do my knee exercises before breakfast. When I head out the door I smile at a woman in an orange sari sitting on the steps leading upstairs. She looks drowsy, but the infant in her lap is bright-eyed and surveying the world.

 

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder

PRNDL: good fairy or bad fairy?

On my Lucky Charms Day, the day I should have bought a lottery ticket, the gear indicator came back to my PRNDL. After a couple months of intermittent appearances, then an extended disappearance, the gear indicator returned to the Buick.

On my Lucky Day half a million commuters had their morning drives, and much of their afternoon, detoured by an overturned tanker truck atop the High Five interchange of highways 75 and 635. Because I felt lucky about PRNDL, I had driven the sides streets viewing the lovely crepe myrtle trees in bloom and got to work early. The other half million got to work 1.5 to 2.5 hours late creeping on alternate routes.

In my euphoria I compared PRNDL, always pronounced "Prindle" in my family of origin, to other glittery good witch and fairy godmother names:

Glinda

Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather

Broom-Hilda

Endora (I was always rooting for Agnes Morehead against Samantha)

Not Rapunzel, but Aurora's spindle

Under the High Five are the "homes" of two persons without homes. One has been living there for over a year, a silent nag on my conscience most days as I drive by in my air-conditioned Buick. Once while I was stuck in traffic below the flying arch crossovers I heard a radio story about changing our thoughts by changing our language. Let "homeless people" become "persons without homes" in our vocabulary, and "refugees" become "persons seeking refuge." The word order shift is an instant adjustment in ugly times, an interchange to a new attitude.

The Buick PRNDL indicator did not hang around for long. A couple mornings later it had relocated to a magic hollow tree somewhere. I was not a person seriously seeking PRNDL enough to take the Buick to the dealership for a reset. I would just hang on as a person without PRNDL indications, a person having a few difficulties getting into the right gear sometimes. It should be a natural movement if I didn't think about it too much...

A driver seeking Neutral might want to go to the coin-op carwash instead of the drive-through. I was sure I had found the magic spot for Neutral after aligning the Buick on the blue line conveyor into the carwash according to the attendant's hand signals, but suddenly a really expensive new car was right in front of me, and the carwash attendant was pounding on my window pointing at my dash and demanding I get the Buick out of Drive. I tried again for the sweet spot, but Neutral eluded me. The exasperated attendant talked me into Reverse, and made me back up through the tunnel of suds to start over.  I did not drive off with Prince Charming and live happily ever after. I did feel like a pumpkin coach driver minus my livery after midnight.

* * % * @  * & * # * * *  * @ * %  * #  * * * & * P R N D  3 2 1 _______

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder

A leaf is to catch with a stick

First thing on a walk is to find a very useful stick. A stick is to imitate old relatives with canes. A stick is to poke and scratch the sand. A stick is useful for pointing grown-ups where to look. It is very good for fling-flanging about in the air.

A leaf passing by in time is for catching with a stick. A pinecone is difficult to catch. A stick is for emphasis when telling Daddy to find a rock to throw in the lake. A lake, of course, is for throwing rocks into.

Picnicked on my lunch break watching a little boy and two grown-ups select sticks for hiking and for retrieving tennis balls from the creek. The perfect stick was elusive. "Look, Dad! I upgraded my stick!" Easy to download and install.

With thanks to Antoinette Portis, Ruth Krauss, and Maurice Sendak.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Can I book my kid's birthday party?

Like many Americans opening their laptop, or quaintly, their newspaper, this week you may have wondered about the pictured field trip to an interactive kid-friendly museum.  Can you book this glowing orb place for a birthday party? You had the Critter Lady for last year's birthday party, and the bouncy house the year before that. Kroger could make a glowing global sheet cake, easy. Maybe the museum hosts overnight lock-in slumber parties for preteen scouts and church groups.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Magic words and Amazon incantation.

Amazon Prime is terrific except when it doesn't work. Then one has the challenge of searching for the magic lamp and tackling amazing feats to get consumer relief. 

You can take your tracking number and 

Oh, PLEASE, no, don't do that!  Use your magic words instead.

THANK YOU for the help of the UPS web site. A genie named Orlando actually responded with useful information.

ABRACADABRA!

Use your magic words to open sesame the help folks at Amazon. If your order does not arrive, or shows "delivered" when is didn't/wasn't be sure to bibbity bobbity this boo:

http://www.amazon.com/contact-us

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Drove my Chevy to the levee

It is/isn't going to be a good year for green. I am totally over my old College View Seventh Day Adventist asparagus casserole recipe. Maybe crushing the last of the garlic rye Gardetto's and throwing them into the mix in lieu of bread cubes was not the best choice. Intuitive cooks do not achieve consistent, repeatable (or edible) results.

Don McLean's anthem, "American Pie," was a mystery within a jingle in 1972, but when it burbled to the surface of my mud geyser brain it seemed to fit the collision of Trump's pick to head the EPA and Pantone's pick for the color or the year, Greenery (green).


Well, the good news is we still have seasons for the time being. I already miss 2016 Rose Quartz.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Bazooka Joe vs.Pepto Bismol in the battle against breast cancer

We are all wearing pink t-shirts on October Fridays for breast cancer awareness. Our t-shirts mostly make me aware how difficult it is to accurately capture color with a camera, display it online, or describe it in words. Coworkers agree the shirts are "pink", but there are so very many pinks in the world!

How do we capture color? How do we describe color? How much emotion is packed into color? How many chemicals? Is the pink natural or artificial?

Capturing the exact pink of the shirts has been a big fail. I've tried photos with and without flash, in daylight and under CFL lights, In desperation I scanned a sleeve. No go.

My coworkers call the shirts "Pepto-Bismol pink". Not just to be argumentative, I insist the color is more Bazooka Bubble Gum pink. A bit warmer, slightly less blue and more saturated...more technicolor. It might glow in the dusk...

...filled with favorite childhood memories of the gum, lollipop, and balloon each child received from the bartender after a fried chicken dinner at Lee's Restaurant. What fun to head home opening the gum wrapper to find a Bazooka Joe comic.

Will the shirts bleed? Will they fade? These are practical consideration as well as descriptors. So far my shirt has not turned any items pink in the laundry. It seems unfaded.

On the moisture scale, Pepto-Bismol pink is chalkier, more white-knuckle gripping the dash when you feel queasy in the mountains. Chewing a tablet or chugging it straight from the bottle is not the same color as a celebration with Bazooka gum.

Our shirts are the color of neon flamingos after a big supper of Disney animated shrimp in a salty bay. They need the organic quality of saliva and some Beach Boys playing on the car radio...

These shirts are more begonia than vinca, more Midge than Barbie, more beauty salon than OB/Gyn surprisingly. That must hint at acetone and jobs dependent on customer tips. This pink could be frozen then deep-fried at the state fair. It is not the right pink for the baby's crib, the flower girl dress, or frosting cake donuts.

The succulent hen and chicks plant out on the balcony is blooming. The little blooms are lovely, but this means the hen is about to die.

Check out Pantone Bubble Gum here. olor

Properties of Colors

The scientific description of color, or colorimetry, involves the specification of all relevant properties of a color either subjectively or objectively. The subjective description gives the hue, saturation, and lightness or brightness of a color. Hue refers to what is commonly called color, i.e., red, green, blue-green, orange, etc. Saturation refers to the richness of a hue as compared to a gray of the same brightness; in some color notation systems, saturation is also known as chroma. The brightness of a light source or the lightness of an opaque object is measured on a scale ranging from dim to bright for a source or from black to white for an opaque object (or from black to colorless for a transparent object). In some systems, brightness is called value. A subjective color notation system provides comparison samples of colors rated according to these three properties. In an objective system for color description, the corresponding properties are dominant wavelength, purity, and luminance. Much of the research in objective color description has been carried out in cooperation with the Commission Internationale de l'Eclairage (CIE), which has set standards for such measurements. In addition to the description of color according to these physical and psychological standards, a number of color-related physiological and psychological phenomena have been studied. These include color constancy under varying viewing conditions, color contrast, afterimages, and advancing and retreating colors.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Motivate/meditate

Cleaning out my purse for the BIG MOG3 adventure I found one of the inspirational words I drew from a fishbowl at a nature education leadership institute last summer. It was right next to a fossilized stick of gum.

The inspirational word was not MEMORY. I have little motivational slips of paper on the desk to help me center, breathe in breathe out, stay in the moment, find joy, and pack toothbrush . They say:

COMB
eyebrows
WATER PLANTS



© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Uber glass slipper moment

Pulled into a parking place near work all in a frazzle because it was raining and one of the Buick windows declined to "roll" up. Getting out to inspect the situation I noticed a  man in a safari vest running up the sidewalk toward me, talking on his cell phone, and looking hopeful.

This is the first time I've ever been mistaken for an Uber driver. The car he was seeking was across the street and down the block. He was kind of cute for a confused white-haired guy standing in front of a razed lot where only one tree, a rustic kids' treehouse, and a For Sale sign remain.

The library is acquiring more romance paperbacks and ebooks lately of both the satin-dressed heiress and unbuttoned cowboy shirt varieties. Perhaps there's room on the shelves for some mistaken Uber contemporary romances. Some enchanted morning you may see a stranger across a crowded road...

,,,But for now I must rig up a trash bag with packing tape to keep the rain out of my pumpkin carriage until I can get to the car repair shop.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Petal dancer

On this, her nineteenth birthday, I celebrate my niece with blossoms and dance and petals, not for the first time. She is a poised, strong woman who acts on her convictions, lives comfortably in her own skin, and moves with style and grace. Clearly she is not related to my college freshman self!

 Geographical distance has limited our niece/aunt connection. Sad to say, when we were together it was often in high stress situations. I'm hoping she wasn't scarred for life.  She has an artist's eye, and I've always wanted to send her gifts for making art or of my creations. This year the gift is finished, but not yet in the mail.

Through sloggish commutes the audiobook, Art of Grace, by Sarah L. Kaufman plays on in the Buick. Its many good points are diluted through excessive repetition. Much as I love Cary Grant movies, is the actor really a saint?


Life maintenance tasks were shoved to the back burner this day off. Peony buds were blooming--

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Charmed, I'm sure

Brunched with long-time friends and shared our charm bracelets for show-and-tell. We don't actually wear our bracelets, but we could. I was contemplating a redesign of mine.

Because the collection of charms spans a lifetime some are childish, many were gifts, and others I gave myself more recently. They are symbolic and commemorative, linking my mom, my sister, A few never fail to get entangled in sweater cuffs.


I want to start a bracelet for my granddaughter. James Avery's charm bracelet catalog arrived the day after our brunch. I'm wavering between finding a child-size chain or beginning the collection on a full-size bracelet. What will be Little Missie's talents? Interests? Travels? Tools of her profession?




Landmarks in history? I have an astronaut charm for Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. Should I find a human genome charm for her? Melting icecaps don't charm me.

Some Grancy who will remain nameless spent way too much time looking at charms online...

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

MOG PEPO is not what you think

NWA fall of 1977

MOG PEPO is a condition closely associated with MOBO. UNESCO should create an NGO humanitarian relief organization to deal with this international challenge even though contagion vectors are not yet clearly defined.

Glossary:

MOBO -- Mother of boys only
MOG  -- Mother of the groom
NGO  -- Non-governmental organization (relief)
PEPO  -- Panic early, panic often (motto)
Tencel  -- A semi-synthetic form of rayon
FCO  -- An alleged airport in Rome
CFA -- Compostable formal attire
NPR -- Pledge drive
TLT -- Think lovely thoughts (Mind over matter method for Darling children to achieve lift-off after Peter Pan blows the fairy dust on them)
NWA -- Newlywed apartment (SEE Macrame)

Imagine how very delighted my youngest son will be when I arrive at his destination wedding location with a roller bag full of plastic newspaper sleeves, then sit on a stoop weaving and braiding the bags into  a stunning full-length formal gown appropriate for all MOG occasions.

We receive a minimum of four "newspaper sleeves" every library day, and most days several more. Hmmm. Perhaps macrame. Tying the knot...

I'm not suggesting the wedding guests remove and compost their formal attire right there at the reception.  That would be bad on several levels. Thinking more about how to make extra space for souvenirs in my carry-on luggage for the return flight.


© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

The 3 Bs

So very lucky to be employed in a beautiful place with books, blooms, and even benefits! Blossoms in early, middle, and late March this year in Highland Park.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

17, 18, 19

How did my kids get such old parents?

Their father, wherever he may be, turned sixty-two today. These remembrances are so rare as to be a shock when they pop to the surface. It was a ridiculously long time ago that I lived in Omaha, was married, and had three little sons. Even before the sons arrived there were St. Patrick's Days. Mid-March in Omaha usually meant a dang cold night on Dodge Street in the Dundee area eating corned beef and cabbage.

One year we celebrated St. Pat's on the 17th with my in-laws at the 18th Amendment bar. It's a surreal memory. Hanging with my mother- and father-in-law  never happened before or after. "Old ladies" in their mid-fifties had green fingernails.  The low drop ceiling was what one might call "festooned" with dangling green balloons and twisted crepe paper streamers. The corned beef sandwiches were on white Wonder bread. My father-in-law who almost never spoke in my presence explained that the earliest one could plant peas in Omaha was March 19th, coincidentally the date of his only son's birth. A green spotlight shone on a revolving disco mirror ball. The Eighties were a scary time! The real-true-actually-happening-global-warming has probably shifted the pea-planting date for Omaha.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Picking up the spare

Giving myself a break after bowling through my to-do list on Life Maintenance Monday. Knocked down some monster pins including vehicle safety inspection and registration renewal, apartment lease resigning, and sewing machine oiling, paying bills, planning meals for the week, ironing, and mailing my grandson's birthday present at the post office. My new work schedule Tuesday-Saturday has some bonus features!

Monster bowling toy for kids

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Doing real work, not pretend

Sure, the thrill will wear off in a few years, but I love my little office. I love that it's off the map and barely on the floorplan. I love working with new library books. The $5.00 spent on tasteful magnets makes me happy. I'm plotting to put potted plants on the window sill.

My working life has been spent in art rooms, art supply closets, preschool classrooms, lunch rooms, and nap rooms. I've stood outside all day in every weather, hung around circulations desks, ladled up cream-O-wheat, and been out standing in my field of chiggers and ragweed. This is the cubicle I've always wanted!

Plotted : A Literary Atlas doesn't include Jo March's attic garret or Cinderella's hearth, but it has amazing maps for book junkies and fiction cartophiles. Andrew DeGraff throws in a bit of M.C. Escher, too. Try it, you'll like it!

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

My life as a charm bracelet

Sixth grade snags aqua mohair
Trout's flashing tail caught in so much monofilament

Significant animals exchange idle chitchat with Neil Armstrong
first man on the

Roadrunner
Barnum and Bailey moon hanging up in the I-80 Stuckey's sky
Chipmunk souvenir

Old woman chooses new shoe hue repainting touching up
Giraffe

Mermaid in the museum with the crayon Clue.
Lizard and owl pea green boat

So many children didn't know what to do didn't know what to do
Sailboat escape


© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

The tiny niggle of dissatisfaction

Thank heaven the etymology of "niggle" seems to bear no trace of eels. Eels give me the willies. The word is probably late-16th century Scandinavian. My big red American Heritage Dictionary is atop one of the heaps of books on the floor, and so the verb niggle, -gled, -gling, -gles, is 1. To be preoccupied with trifles; worry over petty details; fret. 2. To keep finding fault: complain trivially; carp.

The adjective niggling leads to fussy via 1. Excessively concerned with details. Niggardly seems akin to stingy and miserly.
Upon first googling niggle: Syllabification: nig·gle Pronunciation: /ˈniɡəl/ I find the verb meaning Cause slight but persistent annoyance, discomfort, or anxiety: a suspicion niggled at the back of her mind, and the adjective niggling aches and pains.

The pea under the mattress of this whole niggle was the shortage of illumination provided by the golden globe hanging lamp over the breakfast table. Fritzi was always crabby if there wasn't enough light at the dinner table. The golden globe is an ugly retro piece that goes with the apartment. It never provides enough light to read while sipping coffee or other beverages, and it makes me almost as crabby as my mother.

As I wanted to finish the 95% delightful novel by Patrick DeWitt, Undermajordomo Minor, on my day off, the slight but persistent annoyance grew into a giant beanstalk of a plan to do a major reorganization of my apartment without the help of seven dwarfs whistling. 

Home Depot had no hanging lamp globes to replace the golden one. Target lacked cashiers, so I walked away from a cart of organization housewares spruce-ups. If Target goes belly-up, you will know why.

My week's reading of Michael Cunningham's The Wild Swan plus Undermajordomo Minor is the most fun following bread crumbs trails I've had since The Tiger's Wife and Night Circus. Tom Stoppard and Tom Robbins seemed to ride in my bindle on a stick. 

The apartment is still in upheaval, but I feel much lighter.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Sunny side up

To new possibilities in 2016!

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

A few new strings is all

Got it now. Thanks! Wrapping the stair rail with holiday lights did the trick.

Yes, it's late to be getting the Christmas commercial spirit. Not so belated for THE REST of the holiday outlook. You know, those parts with meaning, family, friends, gratitude, joy, wonder, waiting, weather changes, music, sharing, postage stamps, senses, and twinkly lights. Particularly blue twinkly lights, but also white, purple, pink, and assorted. As many strands of 70-100 lights as needed to make it seem complete, and just $2.98/string.

 

While I was a-wrapping the railing the little family in the next apartment emerged. How many months have they lived next door? Why do we never cross paths? Now we have exchanged greetings. It's not wassailing, but it's a start toward neighborliness.

Time is a-flying now. It flew up the flue while you gawked at the gorgeous, bright, soggy fall leaves. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an atomic leaf-blower get sucked into a giant plastic bag.

So few days left in the year to tell people I hold them dear. The days are so short I don't even unplug the extension cord for the lights.

© 2013-2015 Nancy L. Ruder