On the market

So, the house is up for sale. It is definitely the right thing to do, and the right time to do it, but it's still sobering to see the ad. Sigh.

http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/2734-Ne-34th-Ave_Portland_OR_97212_M15208-29185

For Ruth: The Sargent House Kitchen

I was reminded (already a month ago) that I haven't posted about the Sargent House kitchen, which was remodeled last winter.  I'll keep this bare-bones, but with as many pictures as I can manage.

These first two, demonstrating The Kitchen As It Was, were taken way back in 2007, when I was looking to Peaceable's old kitchen for inspiration for the Cattus Dommus kitchen.  There was a lovely island with a sink in it and stools alongside; there was the work triangle of Prep (island) - Cook (stove) - and Clean (sink), with dish storage near the dishwasher.  And there was the much-hated Wall (at least by Peaceable) (behind the stove) which did indeed block the view to the family dining area and television "room" beyond.

Niece #1 - and Mater Familias hiding
behind the cupboard.

Niece #1 and then boyfriend J. demonstrating the work triangle.

Now we'll leap forward to this spring, when the remodel was finished (from beginning to end about 6 weeks, after 6-8 weeks of planning -- much faster than the 3 years we took on the Cattus Dommus kitchen).  The first thing to go was the wall behind the stove - the kitchen is now quite open to the dining area. You can sit and chat with the cook, in fact.

Tasha and Harry demonstrating the full expanse of the kitchen counters.
This photo was taken before the plates were fully displayed in the plate rails.

Note, the soapstone countertops and soapstone farmer's sink. I will admit that I was dubious about the choice of soapstone -- I quite love the granite in the Cattus Dommus kitchen, and I love the hard, shininess of it.  But I am won over -- the soapstone is a little gentler, somehow a softer stone (not that it feels soft).  Still, it only comes in Dark (at least, once it's oiled, and I think if it's not oiled, it stains) so one is limited to dark counters. (But maybe that's a "limit" like being "limited" to hard-wood floors. That is, something one might prefer anyway.)

There is still an island, although it's narrower and the prep sink has been moved to the wall behind (Harry is drinking from the tap).  We still find ourselves reaching for the sink in the island -- the sink that no longer is there.  That said, it's nice not to have the splashing on the middle surface, and the new island is about the same width as the workable, non-wet area of the old island.

Harry drinks in front of antique French tiles, bought,
incongruously, from Uruguay on the Internet.

Three halogen spotlights hang over the island for excellent task lighting.  The west wall - which used to hold a pair of Ikea cabinets with glass doors -- very handy, but shallow and not extensive enough -- now has deep shelving with room for Peaceable's china collection.  Well, a large portion of it.

Peaceable in her cozy spot in the family room.

 At the back of the kitchen, beyond the dining area, there used to be a television space created by a carpeted floor and colored walls.  Now, it has been literally framed in to create a little room, with built-in shelving for the television, and a built-in couch opposite.

The largest structural change is hard to illustrate -- the door to the back hall was moved about 4 feet, which created hall space for two coat closets and helped define the dining area more.

Mater Familias and Frater Familias, sitting at the table. You can see the built-in
television and shelving behind Frater's left shoulder, and the back hall behind Mater.

The last major change was the conversion of a broom closet into a pantry -- the matched doors right in the center of the photo below, in the south entrance to the kitchen.  Behind those doors are 6 marvelous custom made drawers that pull out, excellent storage space for dry goods.

A plate rail around the two walls allows all Peaceable's large trays to be displayed. We have gates in two doorways,
to keep cats and Lily separate. 

Moving Out

So I'm back from Portland.  For those of you who didn't know, we will be selling the Portland house; I needed to get my stuff out so that the house can be put on the market.  

(Portland has had a cold, rainy winter -- rainier than usual, just as our Minnesota winter has been dry and warm.  I took these photos on the one sunny day -- although it rained every other day, there were many moments of sun during them, too.  The daffodils are in prime, and the hyacinths, and the cherry blossoms, but not yet tulips, and strangely, no tree leaves yet. Not even buds.  In Minnesota, we have leafed trees, but no flowers yet.)

I went with the Pod solution -- you hire a shipping container, essentially.  I packed it myself (with help from HomoDommi and friend J, not to mention the Texan and anyone else who I roped in to carry stuff) -- PODS deliver and take it away, and store it for as long as I need it.  

The pods that are available to move across country are either 8x8x8 or 8x8x16.  I had more stuff, I knew, than an 8x8x8, but not as much as needing to fully fill an 8x8x16.  Still, it was nice to have elbow room.

I thought, when I took this photo, that I was done with boxes, and about 1/3 done with furniture. That was an underestimate.

In good bass-ackwards fashion, I filled the Pod with small things first, ending with the big things -- the couch and the bed (both of which were in use until the morning I left).  But even this photo, taken when I really thought I was done, was before I uncovered the antique writing desk that I had as a child, and the rocking chair that I was given by my Australian friends, at the back of the studio.  They fit in with little maneuvering.

One of my beloved Turkey rugs, which had been languishing on the floor of the basement, was discovered to have been a haven for moths for the last year or more.  Several big three-inch holes eaten through it.  I ache, a little, although luckily, it was my least favorite of the rugs (although still beloved).  Anyway, the moths have undoubtedly laid eggs in it, and who knows what else.  So the last thing we did before locking the Pod, was to throw in a Bug Bomb, which should kill everything in any of the textiles.  We had raccoons and possums crawling in the basement (not to mention indoor/outdoor cats), so this should take care of the fleas, too.  

The Pod will be picked up tomorrow. They will store it in secure facility, and then deliver the unit to me in Minnesota when I'm ready for it.  

I'm not yet ready for it.

Art History Connections

Another guest blog written by HomoDommi:

Edvard Munch's "The Scream" (1893, Oslo, Norway.)

Munch described the creative germ for this series of incredibly famous paintings as having sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.

Paul Gauguin's Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?  (1897 - Tahiti.)

Gauguin regarded Where Do We Come From... as his finest work (now housed in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, this screen-capture from Wikipedia may not be entirely copyright-free).

Where Do We Come From... is supposed to be read from right to left, representing youth to aged death.  On the far left, you can see an old woman, resigned to her thoughts, reconciling her life.  At her feet, said Gauguin, is a strange white bird ...represent[ing] the futility of words.

(detail)

What I learned last month:

Gauguin and Munch were friends, and in 1889 attended the Paris World's Fair together.  Gauguin's mother was Peruvian, and he himself spent his childhood in Lima, Peru, so he steered Munch under the newly-built Eiffel tower to the South American exhibit.  Happenstance, the exhibit included Peruvian mummies (who'd been sacrificed alive -- dread people, the Incas).  [I -- Vivi -- will interject here that I can't find reference on the internet today to live mummification in Peru. But I do not disagree with HomoDommi's greater point that the Incas were scary.]

Here's one of the mummies, clip-n-pasted between the two paintings.

The Scream - actual Peruvian mummy - Gauguin's old woman

Yep -- both masterpieces were based on a mummy that Munch and Gauguin saw together at the Paris World's Exposition in 1889!  Note: the specific mummy is in a museum in Florence, Italy, and I couldn't find a jpg of it. According to Wikipedia, the mummy above is similar, with the same Peruvian history (i.e., buried alive).

-- Isn't this bizarre and remarkable?  A woman is sacrificed in 1300 in Peru. Her body is uncovered 600 years later and taken half way 'round the world to France, where it is viewed by a depressive Norwegian and an absinthe-loving half-Frenchman, in an exhibit under the Eiffel Tower.  And two of the more remarkable art works of the 19th Century result from the viewing.

---

And this is what I learned last week:

This is Bohumil Kafka, a Czech artist (no relation to German/Czech author Franz Kafka).  Notice the sculpture on the pedestal at his side.

Bohumil Kafka - image from HomoDommi

It is titled The Mummies -- and no surprise -- Bohumil Kafka also attended the 1889 World's Fair.  I couldn't find copies of these photos on the web, so I've scanned these images from a library book. Not good reproductions, but it's clearly one of the same mummies that so struck Gauguin and Munch.

The Mummies - image from HomoDommi

  

Photoshopping madness

So this was in my inbox a few mornings ago, in an ad for JCrew.

First thought: What good PR for JCrew, to hire spastic models!

Second thought: Hey, that's Keira Knightley?  Was she in a car accident or something, and lost the ability to hold up her head?

Third thought: No, it's not Keira, and she's just leaning in to the camera. But she must be 11 feet tall to have this kind of foreshortening.

Fourth thought: Photoshopped! (Okay, I'm a slow thinker.)

In this case, it's not physically impossible, at least, not her stance/pose.  But the image is, unless she is, indeed, a thalidamide baby.

I mean, it's kind of interesting as a cultural thing -- if we were to see the "body" that these photos represent, I think we would be repelled -- I use the controversial words "spastic" and "thalidamide" intentionally. She would not look healthy. Yet this is beautiful (at least, speaking for myself).

These might be considered "art" photos (and are, I suppose, by some) - in fact, I'd be more comfortable with them as art photos than as advertisements for body image or even (or especially) for the clothes on that body.  Why would I think that I could wear a tiny sparkly pink mini-skirt that is smaller side to side than the shoulders of her t-shirt? Or am I supposed to think that my hips will look tinier (a clear mistake, when we're talking sparkly pink mini-skirt).

Adventures in Travel

I got this note from HomoDommi last weekend, as the holidays wound to a close. (images mine)

Got into Boise at 4:30 am this morning, having left Portland about 13 hours earlier (after a whirlwind of cleaning, returning the house to pre-Christmas decor).  Not a particularly hard drive, but it had its moments.  

The drive from Portland to Boise takes about 8 hours usually.

We had 4 suitcases on top of the vehicle on a makeshift canopy (lying on our ski-racks.)  At the top of Dead-Mans Pass (27° F, hard gusting wind) the flaps came undone and started whap-whap-whapping the top of the car.  Really loud, and on a dark, cold moonless night (with no additional rope) we couldn't strap it down, as we couldn't see where it was loose/flapping.  (Imagine us standing in 10 inches of snow off the road outside of Meacham, using our cell-phones as flashlights, while the cold wind gusted at 30 mph). 

"Winter in the Blue Mountains". Photo by Ruth Jensen, uploaded to Google Earth

Meacham is about half way between Pendleton and La Grande, at the top of Dead Mans Pass. A Google search lists it at 17,000 population, but I don't believe that. Perhaps the county has that many.

But after a visit to the La Grande Walmart (open to midnight on New Years Day!) I strapped it down competently (and drove the remainder of the night at 60 mph - the lower speed helped.  By the way, our gas mileage absolutely sucked - 17 mpg with the cargo on top.)

But then, our excitement for the night.  Around 2 am, out in the no-cell-phone reception area halfway between Baker and Ontario, we came upon a car, emergency flashers on, and two men on the side of the road, waving.  The guys (Sam and his burly brother) were surprised that anyone would stop at 2 am for a car load of Hispanics, but we did, and more than that, we drove Sam into Ontario, then back to his car, before continuing on to Boise (added 60 miles to the trip, and time getting gas, etc.  A late night).

Photo by Ruth Jenson, uploaded to Google Earth.
Taken in the general vicinity of "halfway between Baker City and Ontario".

Sam was nervous, young (24ish, married, 4 kids... We started early). Lives in San Antonio, TX, and work has been sporadic.  But Sam is the music director in his pentecostal church, and thru the church got a job offer ($300 an hour ...for 2 hours work) to play guitar with Grammy-winning singer Eddie Gonzalas ("The Mexican Cowboy").  ~ This was exciting indeed, but the problem: the gig was in Pasco, Washington, and they all (Eddie, Eddie's wife, the accordion player and Sam's brother, also on guitar) had to drive non-stop 2,000 miles to make the gig on New Year's Eve.  Sam has never been away from his wife before, and he's never seen snow before (it snowed in the Blue Mountains on the trip north) but the cash was good.  Unfortunately he was the driver when it ran out of gas, and was getting some nasty looks from the band-mates.  Poor (stressed) guy.  Turns out the gas gauge on the rental wasn't accurate, and he didn't expect 50 miles of no-gas between Baker and Ontario.

Note the lack of any towns - Lime is an abandoned cement plant. Huntingdon has 440 souls, according to the 2010 census.

So, into Ontario and back into the boonies with a 5 gallon tank of gas, and we finally met Eddie and the rest of the band.  With gas in the tank (and happily drunk - time spent waiting in the darkness was spent drinking) they were happy, effusive, and calling us angels (and I like being told, "I'll see you in heaven when I die!").  Much thanking, repeatedly.  Turns out they found the landscape/farness from home frightening (and they said this) ~ hmmm.  I don't see anything frightening  about that area, but I speak the language natively and know where to avoid. 

Eddie gave us a copy of his CD, which I appreciate.  Haven't listened to it yet - but when Teen-Boy wakes we'll all listen together.  (Kids were awake for all of this, so sleeping in today.)

Hmm, strangers from a different planet (well, yeah, Texas is almost that!), where "winter" means less dry and temps in the high 50's, not snow that closes mountain passes.  At night, between "Deadmans Pass" and "Farewell Bend", and just up the road from the site of the Van Ornum Wagon Train Massacre (advertised on the highway)...what's to be scared of?

As we begin, so shall we (intend to) proceed...

I'm not going to try to sum up everything that's happened since May (8 months!) since I think anyone who reads this blog already has the big picture on my life during that period. But now it's 2012, and as usual, we all have big plans about the year ahead. I won't promise anything more than that I'm aiming to be more communicative.

Animal Update: After long months of terror, Harry finally started accepting Priscilla as not being much of a threat -- about the time the weather got cold and he was forced to share space with her if he wanted to get out from under the bed.  The two have since been nose to nose several times -- in no way is the lion laying down with the lamb, but at least the lamb seems to have learned that the lion is a little bit arthritic, essentially the same size as he is, and entirely uninterested in consuming him.  (Tasha assumed a healthy snubbing of Priscilla early on, completely ignoring her presence.)

Then, last week,  Nephew Birkie joined us in our commune, with Lily. Lily is not at all arthritic, quite a bit larger than the cats, and entirely interested in playing with them (or consuming them -- we frankly aren't quite sure).  Birkie has done a masterful job of training her to mostly ignore them -- she has not leapt over the gate as we feared she might, although her ears perk up when they walk across the doorway 15 feet away from her.  I am concerned as much about her level of freedom -- she is always behind a gate or in Birkie's bedroom -- as I am about the cats; I am hoping that she can calm down about them so that we can let all the animals free in the house.

Curiously, the cats are no more than healthily wary of Lily.  It's as if, having conquered Priscilla, another dog is no big deal.  Both of them like to sit well out of the way, and watch Lily watch them through the gate.

Lily, behind her gate in the kitchen

The Frumious Bandersnatch (Priscilla); taken at the Island Summer 2011

Tasha, this morning

Harry (this photo is pretty splendid - I recommend clicking on it to see it full size)