Flash Mob, Canadian Mall Food Court

Another viral video making the rounds, this time a Flash Mob singing the Hallelujah Chorus in a food court at a mall in Canada.  (For those who don't know, a Flash Mob is "a group of otherwise unconnected people who assemble in a public place for a brief time, usually to perform something unusual." more here)

The comments on YouTube about this, range from people thanking our Lord Jesus Christ for inventing marvelous food court experiences (which doesn't fit my personal take on what a god would spend his time planning for), to people nastily criticizing the other commenters, and the Flash Mob, for Christian-centric thoughts and comments.  To be honest, as the song went on, I was aware myself that it was a long period of enforced praise for the Christian King of Kings (enforced if you were one those shoppers just sitting down for a yummy Arby's sandwich and curly fries, and not much of a singer).

On the other hand, named god aside, it is simply a marvelous piece of music.  What do you think?

Kitchen: What I like best

Looking north (towards bathroom and neighbor's house),
before framing had been installed on the window and door.
I didn't take any photos of the floor direct, but you get the warm effect here.

I walked into the kitchen on Sunday afternoon (two weekends ago) to discover HD spreadeagled on the  floor, just lying there.  I gave him a skeptical eye, but he said, "Come and try it!  It feels great!  This is so comfortable." (He had been installing baseboard -- requiring stretching out on the floor to get the right angle on the woodwork.)  I joined him and experienced the surprising cushiness of our new cork floor.

What I like best about the kitchen is perhaps this cork floor. Cork is a new old-fashioned fad, which, because it is eco-friendly (I believe the cork is harvested from trees without killing them, so it is a renewable resource that encourages rain forest growth -- or something like that) is tremendously popular in the Portland housing market.  (Marmoleum, equally eco-friendly requiring less maintenance, would have been more popular, but we couldn't decide on a color -- and it seemed too stark and bright for what we had in mind for the kitchen anyway.)

To save having to level out (or remove) the existing fir subflooring, we bought a floating floor -- that is, planks of cork on a light frame, which snap together to form a seamless whole. (You can see how they fit together here, in the photo right above the word "linoleum".) We bought the floor in 2007, during the first, aborted, attempt to renovate the kitchen, because it was on sale.  We bought the Ikea cabinetry almost three full years later, and they are almost exactly the same color.  (Which is good, but we didn't realize they were the same until we brought home a sample cupboard door.)  The cork is warm, and springy, and pleasant to walk on.  It will be great for Cordon Bleu dinners, when the cook is standing in the kitchen for hours on end.

Looking northwest, towards the basement stairs and the foyer on the left.
The new door to the basement, installed. The fridge is now
where the ladder is in this photo, taken in June.

Then again, perhaps the thing I really like the most about the kitchen is a totally cool phenomenon, entirely fortuitous. It needs a bit of explaining.

The stainless steel refrigerator is positioned, offset by three feet, across from the door to the basement.  On the landing, partway down the basement stairs, in line with the basement door, is another door, which opens onto the side yard and the flower garden outside. Both doors have windows in the top panel (they are north-facing, at the 45th parallel, so it is dark in the winter, and we wanted every particle of light we could get).  (I wrote about the new basement door here.)

Looking southwest, from the bathroom doorway. The fridge, now. 

We discovered when I was washing dishes in the new sink, and HD was doing some work in the side yard, that when the outside door is open fully, and the basement door is partially open, the prism bevel around the window in the  basement door forms a camera obscura, directing the image of the outside onto the surface of the fridge door.

See the green picket fence and the petunias?

Now do you see them?

This is not a simple reflection: the garden is at least 6 feet below the "garden" in the image, not to mention being offset horizontally from the fridge as well.  And, the basement door has to be ajar -- not fully open, nor fully closed -- in order for the image to appear.

Standing about three feet in front of the outside door, looking
across into the kitchen "hallway".  Notice the edge of the fridge on
the left. The camera is about 6 feet above "petunia" level here.
By the way, straight ahead is two fabulous Ikea 88" pullout pantries.

This phenomena will only get noticed in the summer, when the outer door is open, but its ephemerality makes it even more fun.  And how fitting for the house of an artist!

Note about the fridge, for those who want to know: It is simply the Ikea standard two-door stainless steel fridge with ice and water in the door.  Which means, it's a Whirlpool. I should say, it's the Ikea standard in the USA.

I have mixed emotions about Werner Herzog as a director. Fitzcarraldo, one of his early films, in which actors (and non-actors) really did drag a whole steam ship up and over a mountain in the wilds of Peru -- to make a movie about an obsessed opera-lover who drives his people to drag a steam ship up and over a mountain in the wilds of Peru -- is a masterpiece. Encounters at the End of the World was self-absorbed and acerbic and overall not interesting. So I'm mixed. I suppose he would approve.

If you don't know Werner Herzog's work -- or if you do -- you might enjoy this supposed reading of Curious George (with interjections). (It's not really Herzog doing the reading.)

And another, "Herzog" reading Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, by Virginia Lee Burton, which many of us remember from our tadpole days.

Too bad there isn't a reading of Katy and The Big Snow, a sister volume to Mike Mulligan, also by Burton, and my favorite of her oeuvre.