BeachHead

She said: OK, so it's not Friday.  But I know you're not reading this blog to hear about us.  Tell the truth: you only come in hopes of finding out what Max and Milo have done broken lately. 

Last winter when Priscilla came to visit, she took some pictures.  When we received a Christmas card from her last week, these portraits were enclosed.  I took digital pictures of them (sorry, the scanner's still in a box) and uploaded them (thanks, Ali!). 

The pictures are a little out of date (about a year old), but they capture the cats' personalities so well.  That's Max ("what can I mess with next?") on the left and Milo ("hey - I'm a cat") on the right.

Chris suggested photoshopping a mugshot plate onto each cat.  Anyone want to give it a shot?

She said: We're all familiar with how air travel has adapted to modern risks, fears and economics.  I've developed certain expectations and assumptions for and about traveling in planes:  dirty socks from walking through security in stocking feet; squeezing into the middle seat because I'm to cheap to pay for a "premium" seat; cramming into ever-smaller seating; unexpected lines and draconian security measures; a gnawing sense of hunger in the air; more harried flight crews.  The list goes on.

So when there's an airline inconvenience that's more traditional -- like turbulence, or strange sounds coming from the landing gear -- it's a breath of fresh air!  A bonding experience!  A comforting reminder of technological advances and modern perils!

On today's flight #308 from Los Angeles to Minneapolis/St. Paul (two days, for work - in case you're wondering), I managed to snag the last exit row seat -- the window, with a good 5 feet of clearance for my short legs.  A perfect seat from which to view the sprawling development, mountaintop strip-mines, snow-capped mountains, and the vast open spaces (and the roads that scar them) of the American West.  Fabu.  Doesn't sound inconvenient yet...Pretty sweet, you say? 

Add to the great view and extra legrom: one fluffy barking lapdog whose constant yap was more like a cat whose tail's been stepped on...an otherwise nice little boy who just couldn't keep himself from kicking the back of my seat...and a fellow to my right who fell asleep, rolled his head to the left with his mouth wi-i-i-de open, and --wait-- what's that strange scent?  Garbage?  Rotten badger meat? Durian pie?  Poor guy probably has no idea that his breath is so horrific.

Would it have been a public service to suggest he might want to pay his dentist a visit?

She said: I've always thought of myself as someone who could maintain relationships.  Sometimes image of self doesn't match up to the reality.  But I try.  Holiday travel for us is a study in that try.  I returned Monday night from ten days of frenetic travel and driving all over the Northeast: from Albany to Troy to Bourne to Lewiston to Oakland to Portland to Oakland to Bangor to Oakland to Dixmont to Belfast to Boston.  Four states - whew!  Then I was on the plane back to LA, Geir remaining in Boston for a week of work.  I know I wore myself out, but it was worth it: one thing the move to LA has made clear to me is how much I love the people in my life, what a stellar group of people you all are, and how much I especially value that you're the sort that I can pick up with right where we left off, months (or even years) prior.  Too earnest?  Too bad.  I love you anyway.

The New Year gets me thinking along these lines, but also a serendipitous meeting I had this evening with an old friend.  We hadn't seen each other for 9 years.  He's still him and I'm still me.  We only knew each other for a summer and one visit that involved jumping up and down on a Pittsburgh bridge on New Year's Eve, and haven't been in touch since.  Google ninja that I am, I tracked him down recently when I discovered he'd moved to LA too.  We broke bread together today and it was comfortable and good.  Humans are truly amazing creatures, that we have the ability to forge connections across time, space, age, and circumstance. 

Meanwhile, the cats are ripping me out of my reverie. They're being such pests right now.  Milo's walking back and forth across my lap and working on throwing (yes, that's right, throwing) a pillow off the couch.  Max is trying to knock down a lamp by batting it in slow motion with his paw.  Now he's moved on to standing atop Geir's studio cart while considering a leap to the armoire, all while going on with his characteristic "chirp mreaoowwww chirp chirp mreoooooooooowwwwwwwww chirp meaaaah!!!"  And Milo, the little bastard, watches Max to learn new tricks.

Time to capitulate: food for them, bed for me.  But before I go, my serendipitous friend pointed me to a blog two friends of his maintain, chronicling their travels on the Blue Line between Long Beach and downtown LA.  It's called Tales from the Blue Line.  And don't get scared by the story about a fight one night.  (Sleep tight, Mom!)

She said: You put your underwear on, inside-out.

He said: When riding a bike in Boston, people yell at you to get off the sidewalk.  In Long Beach, people yell at you to get out of the road and onto the sidewalk. 

He said:  She certainly isn't getting any prettier.  She is, however, getting appendages.  Two arms and one foot down, one foot to go.   I'm finding that very small pieces are quite brittle, and so far have broken off: a piece of loincloth, two dangly bits from the headdress, some hair, and one of the loops holding the backplate on.  Glue is my friend.

He said: After doing some online research and finding a few excellent tutorials on polymer clay modeling, I've learned that you can fire the clay (in your kitchen oven, natch) and still add fresh clay to it afterwards.  This way, I can preserve detail and prevent squooshing.  I've fired the hag twice now, once for the legs and belt, once for the torso work and armor.  The original drawing is on the left, by the way.

I'm now working on the head and headdress.  Next step may be to go out and buy an airbrush, which is something I've been wanting to do for a while.  Lots of new stuff to try.  Looks like even this first try with the clay is going well, now I'm feeling pressure to pick my next model with more care (what to do, what to do?).

The nice thing about working on fantasy creatures is that it is harder for things to look, uh, unrealistic.  If you know what I mean.  Maybe I should challenge myself to try something more realistic - a more traditional bust perhaps? 

 

He said:  Saw another excellent specimen of California Beach-Dude (Surfus Californius) today on my way home from work.  As can often be observed in the wild, this male Beach-Dude was riding a kind of cruiser/beach bicycle which is so popular in these parts.  Flip-flops, baggy shorts, no shirt, surf-board under-arm.  The deep tan and long hair seems to be part of this species' markings, perhaps conferring certain advantages in his natural habitat.

He said: In spite of local art supply stores' insistence on keeping erratic hours, I've succeded in buying some surprisingly expensive Super-Sculpey polymer modelling clay.  I had started a painting a few weeks ago, but very quickly lost interest.  I'll return to it sooner or later.  Clay = change of pace. 

I really have very little idea what I'm doing here, but it feels pretty intuitive and I am having a blast so far.  I used sculpture armature wire and some mesh (not effectively, I suspect) to capture the large shapes, and have been adding clay as I go.  This stuff holds detail incredibly well.  I suspect that I've made a mistake by going into fine detail before adding all the large masses - I'll probably pay for that mistake by squooshing (technical term) all that detail later. 

The design is drawn from a sketch I did after our visit to the Anthropology Museum in Mexico City during our Ana+Mau wedding visit.  I came away from that museum feeling that there wasn't anything one could do to make the Aztec, Maya, Teotihuacan (etc.) sculptures and masks any scarier.  Still, a fellow has to try, doesn't he?

 

 

She said: I'm flying to Saint Paul for work at the end of the month.  I'd heard about new policies some airlines have implemented where passengers have to pay extra for exit row, aisle, and other desirable seats.  I hadn't run into it until  today.  When I booked my flight, I found it odd that on my outbound flight  Northwest was more than happy to sell me the ticket, but when it came time for me to select a seat, none were available.  Unless, of course, I were to have WorldPerks Elite, Skyteam Elite, or Partner Elite status.  (Non-elite passengers may purchase Coach Choice seats for $15.)

 

So I paid for the flight, got confirmation about the flight, but somehow don't have a place to sit.   Maybe I'll stand?