Centralia Studio Tour

          What is that which is under you?
          Take one letter from it and it is over you?
          Take two letters from it and it is round you?*
____________________

This weekend dw and I took a short drive north to Centralia / Chehalis Washington and spent a day and a half doing an open studio tour. Considering the location we were surprised at the  number of artist studios and the amount of good art. To be sure a lot of it was decorative/utilitarian art rather than "fine" art but nearly all of the artists we saw obviously valued craftsmanship. Three in particular -- Brad Tarbet (metal sculpture) -- and Renate & Gabriela Cowan (stained and fused glass) -- had exceptional technique.

dw bought one piece. A small vase made by Dan Sheridan, a potter with a bunch of stuff even I liked and generally I'm not much into pottery. For my part, I got a few ideas I'll cheerfully steal. We quite enjoyed the weekend. It's always fun to see art in it's natural habitat and to visit with the artists.

dw drove up, while I sat and worked on the Saturday NYT crossword puzzle. I do OK with the late week puzzles, but I'm definitely in the slow amateur category. dw, on the other hand, has almost no interest in crossword puzzles, but will ask, when I'm stuck: "Can I help?" And I will usually respond with something like:
   "Five letter word -- Who was the reserve left tackle for the NY Giants in 1958?" And occasionally dw will know the answer -- surprising us both, and leaving dw just a bit smug. I don't recall last Saturday's clue, but dw again knew the answer and then she said:
   "Ask me any question and I'll know the answer!"
   So I said: "Why did I forget my hat this morning?" (Heavy rain was forecast for the weekend)
   And dw replied: "I know, but I'm too nice to say."
   I retired from the field and went back to my puzzle. (Humph! I thought. Humph. Too nice to say
   indeed!)

Centralia itself --- who knew? It's a nice little town with a couple of good restaurants, two used-book stores (one well organized, the other with random piles of books, narrow aisles and a good-luck-finding-anything air) a bunch of antique/junque stores, two tourist-junk shops,  and several people-actually-live-here stores, as well as some street curiosities. The downtown has some empty store fronts but the place is still alive and was a happening place Saturday night (we had to try three restaurants to get a table).

Like most people (I suspect) we had thought the area was a place to speed by at 75 mph. We thought the place had two nut-jobs but nothing else. dw discovered the area for us when she spent a couple of hours waiting for me during the Seattle to Portland bike ride. (Centralia/Chehalis was the half way point) We enjoyed it enough that we might even stop occasionally when we
drive to Seattle.

We also visited the Mina mounds. A geological (probably ice-age glacial) feature ten miles north of Centralia. It's a curiosity. We were there late in the day (gates close at 6 p.m.) so we didn't stay but a few minutes. We'll definitely return and walk around a bit. It's an odd place.

Nut Jobs: Un-missable from the freeway --- First the Dominic Gospoder monuments. These things were erected by DG (a millionaire with time on his hands) They represent Holocaust Victims, Jesus, Mother Teresa, an Eagle, American Indians and a weather vane. All are worthy enough, I guess, but it's an unusual assemblage.  Some of the statues are shorter and barely visible. The tallest is over 100 feet tall. Gospoder started the project in 2001 and has since died. The Cowlitz Indian tribe now owns
the statues and intends to maintain them.

 Alfred Hamilton, a turkey farmer ( smirk ) who got PO'ed in 1971 and put up the billboard. Alfred died a few years ago (at age 84) and now the messages are composed and posted by his kids.  The kids try, and they are properly right-wing zealots, but they don't have the same flair their dad had. Some of Old Alfred's blazes of glory: "No Mexican Olympic teams? All the runners and swimmers are here!" --- "Evergreen: A haven for Commies and Queers." (Evergreen State College, Olympia, WA) --- "Shouldn't immigrants have to wait 21 years to vote? I had to!" --- and many more over the years. The Hamiltons often provide a "Oh, My God!" moment on the way to Seattle, but aside from the comic relief on a tedious drive, I don't think the signs have much of an effect.

Books: The Man Who Made Lists (Joshua Kendall)  A biography of Peter Mark Roget, the man who wrote Roget's Thesaurus. He was "the eminent nineteenth-century polymath --- physician, physiology expert, mathematician, inventor, writer, editor, teacher, and chess whiz ---" Another one of those "Who knew?" books. I found it very interesting, similar to the Professor and the Madman (about the Oxford English Dictionary). Roget seemed to be a humorless man, fearful of going crazy like many of his family (including his mother). Late in life he apparently developed a dry sense of humor:         ----- (*) and the answer is: Chair, Hair, and Air. -----

The Last Supper (Ross King) All about Leonardo Da Vinci and the painting of "The Last Supper". King also wrote Brunelleschi's Dome, and Michelangelo and The Pope's Ceiling. All three are excellent and well worth reading.
   According to Pacioli, a friend of Da Vinci, old Leonardo had quite the sense of humor.  One of his tricks: He made worms appear on cooked meat by chopping up the strings of a lute "in great lengths, just like natural worms," and then concealing them inside the meat. As the meat is roasted, the strings, "made from gut, will slowly twist and they will appear to be worms and those that see them will get sick." Quite the dinner host, old LDV.

Word of the day:  CEPHALOPHORE -- (from the Greek for -- head-carrier )  the depiction of a saint who is carrying his own head, after being beheaded. Such as my name-sake, St. Denis of Paris who was beheaded on Montmartre, then walked 6 miles -- preaching the whole time -- to the present site of St Denis Basilica where (one upping Tom Dooley), he actually laid down his head and died. It's true that after a few beers I can be a motor-mouth but I don't think I'd make the entire six miles even without talking so I give old St Denis two big thumbs up.   And so it goes. DJA
 

A Cat's Meow

A few weeks age, dw saw a very funny video (You Tube) " Diary Of A Sad Cat". dw sent a link to our cat owning (or, to be ultra-PC: parenting) good friends Kate and John G. The following is their exchange.

 

 

From Victoria Beaner Mehlman G. --- aka: the Bean

 

Dianne,

It is my understand that you asked Kate to download the "Diary Of a Sad Cat" video. I hope it gives her some awareness of how lonely my days are. I sleep out of depression. My only relief is a rare tidbit of food, the occasional water tap for a drink, and the shadows of leaves and birds that tease me as they move across the walls and ceiling. It is difficult to find ways to entertain myself in this prison.

     Unlike the video, I have no plants to eat but still I occasionally make my disillusionment known by barfing on the white rug. (Once, I overheard Kate telling you about that --- It made me proud)

     You may be surprised that I type so well, although I do find the shift key difficult to use. I attribute my skill to my petite, though naturally superior, physique.

     I hear the tap has been turned on. I have a mere five minutes to drink my daily supply so I must run. Thanks for bringing my plight to the attention of Kate. She is not enlightened, but your input may help.

 

Meow,

VGMB

 

 

 

from the beaner,

after writing you i feel inspired. usually only food, water, and prey animals interest me but you have made me feel important. i have feelings that I must share.

     as I mentioned before i find it very hard to use the shift key and to type upper case letters. i hope you accept this with good grace. my thoughts are no less profound. besides, mehitabel was universally praised and i'm clearly superior to a mere alley cat.

     today has been difficult for me, as i was given breakfast --- i knew my medicine was in it but i was so hungry that i ate it all at once --- and then i had to wait a whole 6 hours, staring at an empty plate, while kate was outside doing whatever rather than looking after moi and moi needs.

     i feel i can tell you this because i well remember that you brought me some french ham when you visited, and you might want to be more consistent when you visit. i assume the french ham and you come mainly to visit me. i will be willing to rub against you and purr a bit in exchange for the ham or shrimp. tit for tat i always say.

     kate says you might be getting a new car this weekend. i don't care. i hate cars, they make my heart palpitate and my doc says that's not a good thing at my age --- as you may know, a naturally superior cat, such as moi, lives a very long time --- regarding age, alas, i sometimes do feel it. sometimes i feel as young as 5 --- other times, well, i'm slow and even lying down is an effort.

     my weekend? --- well it isn't much different from my monday through friday routine.

     as you have connections --- being a nurse and all --- maybe you could get me a hospital job as a service cat to calm patients and employees. i would expect something in return: a little catnip or some extra french ham -- under the table would be fine ---i hope i wouldn't be expected to just volunteer my efforts. even though i sleep most of the time,. with my sophisticated good looks, my time is valuable.

     i have just eaten, and all this talk about french ham has made me extra --- napish --- if you know what i mean. sweet dreams.

 

the bean xoxo

 

 

 

 

from ms. Victoria to nurse w.

 

Dianne,

i feel very distressed today. i was not asked if the cleaning lady could come but she unexpectedly came. as a result my life is in complete disarray. maria left and closed the door more than an hour ago and only now am i beginning to recover from the ordeal. i do not like having my space invaded. since you are a nurse you need to get me some anti-anxiety drugs. i don't need much, after all i am a cat, but even more than pate' i need some xanax.

     last night i couldn't sleep and after hours of restlessness, i finally found comfort lying against kate's leg. she got up and moved to the guest bedroom. it was very disruptive. this morning i nearly had to create a scene to get john's attention. he was the only person available, so i jumped on the bed and stared at him for five minutes before he recognized his duties and saw to my needs.

     after such an exhausting, tension filled morning --- and a thorough cleaning --- i am feeling napish again. ciao and meow,

 

ms. vbmg

 

 

 

 

from ms. vbmg to nurse w.

again, i am having a bad day and i need some advice from you. kate doesn't understand me --- i don't know why, my needs are so simple --- and now i'm failing to understand her. today, out of nowhere, a juicy bit of fresh shrimp delightedly appeared in my dish. with relish i ate it, and then despite my cries and despite the fact that i was sitting in the exact spot where the shrimp appeared, no more shrimp appeared.

     but in this house i am treated as a mere pet and my rights are ignored on a daily basis. when i consider what i hourly contribute to the general welfare in this house what i get in return is clearly inadequate. why not shrimp everyday? why not a clean litter box 3x a day? i'm only combed twice a week --- if i'm lucky --- instead of every day. for hundreds of years we've been "tamed" and kept under lock and key when once we were acknowledged as gods and suitably worshipped.

     as a nurse, you could send me some anti-anxiety pills, they might even help my headache. i have needs my wardens won't recognize.

     i almost despair. I've considered a boycott --- but i fear my wardens, kate and john, wouldn't even notice --- or worse, they would notice and misunderstand and take me to the vet.

     I've considered sending an op-ed piece to the new york times, but i have no economic power so i feel it would be useless to write of my disillusionment. all i have left is to dream of my lost god status.

morose in mountain view.

to dream --- to sleep ---

 

 

 

 

My Dear Ms. V

Please let me assure you that you are heard. Your concerns are my concerns and I am here for you on every level. The failure of contemporary society to remember the feline goddess history is appalling. I fear nothing short of a CATastrophe will return us to the golden age of Feline Dominance. Having said that, I implore you to understand that those who know YOU understand the FD history and strive to honor you accordingly.

 

Sometimes, however, we all have to tolerate the quirks and forgetfulness of those around us. It is the mark of a superior mind to accept the inferiority of others and not take it personally. I know you will rise to the challenge.

 

An op-ed piece in the NYT is always a good idea and worth a try. As for the anti-anxiety assistance, the Warden's medication could be diluted multifold and perhaps a tiny amount put in a delicacy for your consumption. However, it has been my experience that the delicacy itself serves the purpose and I will communicate your needs to Kate. In the meantime, delay the evening visit to the downstairs long enough to cause a moment's pause (paws?) as everyone considers "Where's Beaner?" It will perk them up.

 

P.S. next time stare at John for 7 minutes --- longer is better.

 

Ciao Bella, and hang in there.

Nurse W.


If anyone else in interested, you can sent a guest blog to: feder400@gmail.com. Of course I might re-write or do some editing, but hey, it would be easy access to my vast (?) audience.  DJA