Happy St. Valentine's Day!

In pondering the Pre-Hallmark origins of St. Valentine's day I realized how little I actually know about its namesake...

The Origin of St. Valentine

(according to catholic.org -didn't want to link the actual sight as I am not religious...will spare you an essay of my beliefs at this time!)

"The origin of St. Valentine, and how many St. Valentines there were, remains a mystery. One opinion is that he was a Roman martyred for refusing to give up his Christian faith. Other historians hold that St. Valentine was a temple priest jailed for defiance during the reign of Claudius. Whoever he was, Valentine really existed because archaeologists have unearthed a Roman catacomb and an ancient church dedicated to Saint Valentine. In 496 AD Pope Gelasius marked February 14th as a celebration in honor of his martyrdom.

The first representation of Saint Valentine appeared in a The Nuremberg Chronicle, a great illustrated book printed in 1493. Alongside a woodcut portrait of him, text states that Valentinus was a Roman priest martyred during the reign of Claudius the Goth [Claudius II]. Since he was caught marrying Christian couples and aiding any Christians who were being persecuted under Emperor Claudius in Rome, Valentinus was arrested and imprisoned. Claudius took a liking to this prisoner -- until Valentinus made a strategic error: he tried to convert the Emperor -- whereupon this priest was condemned to death. He was beaten with clubs and stoned; when that didn't do it, he was beheaded outside the Flaminian Gate [circa 269]. Saints are not supposed to rest in peace; they're expected to keep busy: to perform miracles, to intercede. Being in jail or dead is no excuse for non-performance of the supernatural. One legend says, while awaiting his execution, Valentinus restored the sight of his jailer's blind daughter. Another legend says, on the eve of his death, he penned a farewell note to the jailer's daughter, signing it, "From your Valentine."St. Valentine was a Priest, martyred in 269 at Rome and was buried on the Flaminian Way. He is the Patron Saint of affianced couples, bee keepers, engaged couples, epilepsy, fainting, greetings, happy marriages, love, lovers, plague, travellers, young people. He is represented in pictures with birds and roses." (Epilepsy? Fainting?!? Plague?!? Might Hallmark be considered a plague!)

I have never been one for diamonds & hothouse red roses. (I much prefer sea glass & peonies. Maybe garnets & orchids on a decadent day.) The corruption & tragedy associated with the diamond trade has completely soured me to the lure of these mysteriously powerful gemstones.

"Diamond. The mere mention of the word fills the mind with a multitude of concepts and images. Diamond is a mineral, a natural crystalline substance, the transparent form of pure carbon. Diamond is something superb, the peerless 'king of gems' that glitters, dazzles, and symbolizes purity and strength. Diamond... for a commitment to never-ending love. Diamond is indomitable, the hardest surface known. Diamond is exotic, formed in the Earth's interior and shot to the surface by extraordinary volcanoes. A diamond is likely the oldest thing you will ever own, probably 3 billion years in age, fully two thirds the age of the Earth. Diamond is a strategic and high-tech supermaterial for our technological society..." (from the introduction to the exhibit (The Nature of Diamonds) which was held at The American Museum of Natural History in New York several years ago.)

I am fascinated by origin and symbolism behind the gemstones but just can't get my conscious around wearing them.

I am a complicated 'simple' girl. I am a sentimentalist through and through. I get frustrated with all of the adds on TV & in print around this time of year imploring us to purchase (or be deemed inadequate) jewelry, glass eyed bears, dozens of red roses and just too much red glittered-chocolate covered-heart shaped junk that will be soon forgotten. (Let me contradict myself here and say that chocolate covered IS appreciated-ANYTIME!) Of course, the original sentiment of the holiday has been hijacked by the consumer machine. I understand the "But it's a Hallmark Holiday" argument but do see Valentine's day as an opportunity to celebrate those we love with meaningful gestures. I also get the "But we should celebrate our loved ones EVERY day..." I suppose the hedonist in me is attracted to the idea of a specific holiday which celebrates endearment. I wish that it hadn't become so centered around spending loads of money. What has happened to our creativity? Hand made cards are lovely... mixed tapes say so much! (yes I grew up in the 1980's!) Artwork. Really, any significant memento that says "I was thinking about you love" in some simple way.

One of the most romantic 'gifts' that I have ever received was a beautiful pear! The sincerity of the friend that presented me with it really touched me. I have this long enduring daydream of receiving a rock as a surprise gift from some significant place that I've shared with my love. These are the things that move me!

I always think of Peter Weir's wonderful film Picnic at Hanging Rock on St. Valentine's day. I last saw it many years ago but its ethereal quality has stayed with me. The image of the forgotten Valentine's day cake-taken over by an army of ants-as the hot drowsy afternoon takes hold of the girls...

Ah, the mystery of love. The mystery of St. Valentine. Remembrance and pink frosting mustachioed grins.

Trouble in the Control Room

I need to learn to leave well enough alone.

I have tried every font style, size and color (in every possible combination) in my quest for the right aesthetic for the blog. (I'm keeping this one simple, basic, utilitarian...this is a learning experience for me. No laughter please!) The problem is that I seem to change my mind regarding changes after I have hit the publish button. The more I tamper with my posts-the more computer glitches I seem to unleash from their hiding places deep within the crevices of the Blog Spot operating system.

I am certainly not computer savvy but, I can handle the basics. I'll admit that I am currently unable to really swank out my blog page for lack of know-how but please Blog Spot no more spontaneous font changes!

I am a Hold Out.

(I own a rotary phone form the 1940's-which has sadly been retired to the closet-as I was finding myself unable to navigate our automated world on it.)

Now that most of the previous posts are, at least, uniform in appearance I will try to resist the urge to meddle. The first two are a lost cause-I give up on trying to rectify the rogue fonts.

(Just a quick note from the flight deck.)

Knitting on Morphine

I am in the process of adorning everyone within a 500 mile radius with a scarf. I sometimes scare myself as I am fast becoming a knit happy crazy cat lady. I see my Golden Years spent in a rocking chair on the porch surrounded by my 23 cats. (I presently have two.) My knitting needles will click together as I hum to myself. A length of scarf will begin on my lap and then travel out into the world; one row at a time. Down the steps, through the front gate and down the block it will grow until it is completely out of sight. As I rock slowly back and forth-knit, purl, knit, purl...I will speak to the birds. "Good morning Mr. Blue jay. Why, yes, it is a lovely day isn't it?!?"

I have found that knitting is perfect for feeling productive-even in front of the television set. (I'm guilty!) It's a very satisfying pastime which stills a restless mind. An instant antidote for aimlessness & boredom. In fact, that is one of the main reasons I felt compelled to try my hand at it. (And I like neck warmers.)

A couple of days after returning home from the hospital following major surgery I began to crawl the walls of my mind. I had just undergone a spinal fusion-my first, and I hope only, experience with hospitalization. I had a fabulous German roommate who had undergone knee surgery. It was BIG excitement in our room when one of us walked! We were a comfort to one another; mutually inspiring the necessary endurance to make it through. There was so much distraction at the hospital that the time actually passed really quickly...every 30 minutes someone was coming in to monitor something or another.

I had NEVER felt true helplessness before this experience. I fancy myself an incredibly independent person (to a fault sometimes) and I couldn't even turn over in bed without two nurses helping. It was such a strange limbo lying there unable to sleep...unable to reach for the magazine on the table behind me...unable to move at all without sending blinding pain through every cell in my body. It scared me...

Back home I found myself confined to my living room (mostly) without the ability to do anything other than sit in a pillow lined chair. I believe that I mentally cataloged each and every dust bunny and cobweb as I sat there. It was so much easier to cope while in the hospital-at least there I was removed from all of the daily things around me that I wanted or needed to do. I was too medicated to read...high as a kite around the clock. Percoset followed by Flexeril followed by MORHPINE. (Now, I'll admit to a little illicit dabbling in my youth but now I am a person who doesn't like to take an Advil tablet unless it's absolutely necessary.) I'm not sure what made me snap but, I beseeched my partner in crime to drive me to Joann Fabrics to buy an instructional knitting book and yarn. This was no simple feat as it involved the complete modification of my vehicle with pillows and a great deal of willpower. The long stretch between my chair in the living room and my awaiting freedom was made quite burdensome by the inconvenience of a walker on gravel. (Unfortunately, I didn't use my walker long enough to justify tricking it out with tassels and tennis balls on the legs.) We got me in and seat belted, secured the walker in the bed of the truck and set off-an unlicensed driver at the wheel. I believe that Zeke did his best to avoid the most jarring pot holes and take the smoothest turns-I don't remember the drive. I was in the grip of teeth clenching-star seeing pain. Thank you, My Dear, for braving Joann Fabrics with a delirious mess!

That is how it all started. My first scarf was scrapped of course...the drugs were better suited for the amazing dreams that they brought nightly...

Homesickness

After reading back through the past few posts it has occurred to me just how homesick I am for California. (Well, I suppose I've known this for awhile now.) I've lived in Tucson for a few years and although I've settled in; it has always felt like a halfway point of sorts. I find myself lingering in limbo between the Bay Area (my beginning) and Rochester (my goal of attending The L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation.) I'm trying not to let the past few years of doctors poking & prodding, Xrays, MRIs, pain, and hospitals taint my impression of Tucson. There really is so much here...I was sincerely excited when I first discovered this part of the desert. It is quite beautiful...especially just after a rain. If I can just get past the Heat & Dryness here I think I can make it a little longer. The Winter skin dehydration factor is in full effect. NOTHING seems to remedy this issue-not even the slathering on of various nut butters in their purest form...I'm just short of trying Lard.

I've settled into a very old neighborhood in the heart of Historic Tucson. There is such a sense of community here-so much flavor. The adobe row house that I call home was built in 1903 and the woman who resided here before us lived to be 100+ years old within these walls. I discovered that one of my coworkers, at my previous day job, was a great grandson of the man who built this house for his family! (so nice to be able to see old family photos!) I love everything about this little nest; with the exception of mice in the clothes closet

(I carried them WAY down the street in a towel & was fortunate that they did not return), the drafts in winter and annual indoor fire ant brigade. It has definitely been an adventure living in an old building; something is always ceasing to work properly! The neighborhood has certainly found a place in my heart...it is a fine collection of old families, artists and roadside shrines. El Tiradito-The Wishing Shrine is just around the corner. It is said to be "the only shrine in the United States dedicated to the soul of a sinner buried in unconsecrated ground." The soil around the shrine is dark from the oil of many, long since burned, candles. People visit to place paper wishes within slots in the stone & adobe walls or to leave various symbolic offerings. Even though I am not religious I have always been drawn to the beauty & mysticism of places that people find sacred. So much to see and experience right here in my own neighborhood!

The Historical Marker Database

Kitchen Windowsill

On Reducing Rubbish

I'm not generally one for lists of New Year's resolutions-it seems to be the same list year after year for me. (I am painfully aware that I need to eat healthier, exercise more, keep in better contact with my family & save money) This year I have decided to focus on the smaller steps that add up to grand results. One major point of focus this year will be to create less mindless trash by switching to more reusable products. Now, mind you, I have a true disdain for preaching-just feel so tickled by a few wonderful products and ideas that I have found in my travels that I want to share. (Reviving Show & Tell one rant at a time.)

Oil Cloth Market Tote & Reusable Sandwich/Snack Bags

found on Etsy

RICKRACKQUEEN

Glass Nail File

no more wasted emery boards!

TerraDent Toothbrush

by ECODENT Premium Oral Care

A fabulous friend of mine Eva is creating fun jewelry & accessories made from recycled and upcycled materials. (Her Porn Star earrings are quite naughty but not too vulgar-they are made from recycled porn magazines.) She sells through MySpace RECYCLED BY EVA and also Etsy MINDLIKEWATER

I was so shocked when I first moved out to the desert by the lack of recycling. I called Las Cruces, New Mexico home for about 9 months (quite a shift from Oakland,CA!!!) My time there made me realize just how lucky I had been in the Bay Area to have so many green resources available to me. I realize that I am walking a very fine line here between crunchy and conscientious. (I'm afraid I must admit to a profound dislike of Birkenstocks-eew! Patchouli, & The Grateful Dead-sorry if I've offended!) Separating my plastics, the green from the brown glass and the newsprint (remember newsprint!?!) from the other papers had become such a routine part of my daily existence that I nearly panicked-that took years of training!

I spent my childhood in Marin County & San Francisco in the 1970's so I've definitely been involved in my share of earth centric activities. I've found that much of what I grew up assuming was normal (i.e being brought, by my mother, to a psychic on my eighteenth birthday to have my charts done...) will raise a mocking eyebrow in other parts of the country. I've been known to snicker & snub on occasion but I'm so grateful to have been exposed to so many diverse and sometimes unconventional things growing up.

I was really fortunate to have access to MANY wonderful natural areas in the Bay Area. The natural diversity of California has always awed me. One can travel less than 5 hours in any direction and see something totally different than other locations. (If the traveled direction happens to be West-a boat will be required!?!)

The ocean factored greatly into my childhood...salty afternoons picking up agates & shells with my mother-our feet sinking into the frozen surf soaked sand and foam. Sand flies would scatter as serpentine bull kelp was disturbed from it's half buried state. (Always reminded me of a sea monster of sorts with it's long smooth tail & bulbous head...But, I think every kid thought this...)

The many wooded areas close by also afforded me a great appreciation for the outdoors. There was always some natural excursion set up by the Parks & Recreation Department to keep the kids learning & out of trouble. (Mostly...)

I loved creek stomps through the woods-tennis shoes squishing as we explored single file the length of a winding waterway. The stiff cuffs of my wet 1970's cords, the sought after crawdad, the dreaded banana slug and the smell of wet bay leaves and damp. We played capture the flag in a park thick with redwood trees-this created GREAT opportunity to be stealthy. I never liked the cut throat elementary school P.E. experience-too many ways to expose every personal weakness (I was a dreamer) But, the capture the flag games have left such amazing memories...

Ah, the beauty of the Natural World! I could ramble on for hours...

There was a landfill in San Rafael, CA that I used to visit with my father. He was a general contractor so there was always something monumental to haul away-cracked drywall with its chalky interior exposed, an odd end of plumbing pipe oozing grey slime...(I can still smell that strange rotted matter-petroleum tinged odor unique to plumbing projects!) He would begin to back the truck up-slowly-as I would guide him with hand signals to stop just short of the perilous concrete drop off. We would then begin the process of sending the junk & yard debris plummeting from the bed of the Ford to meet its demise at the bottom of the pit. (I remember that glass xmas tree ornaments were kinda fun to throw in! Quite dramatic when they land! What is wrong with me?!? Good Lord!) I enjoyed perusing the treasures that the men at the dump would rescue from the bulldozer. I would wander through appliances-that with just a small tweak would continue to toast, wash or bake a cake. These were useful things, I assume, chucked in only to make room for a bigger shinier model...

Although, the trips to The Dump with my father have left fond memories-I see the larger picture now. It was the bonding (and the lollipop that the lady in the booth would give me) not the landfill that I will hold in my heart!

Unfortunately, I grew up with 'disposable' items/products as the norm in our household. I'm not sure when it was that we fully embraced this 'use it once' mentality-I suspect that it was sometime in the 1980's! I do remember a time, much earlier, when we would bring our various household necessities to a small crowded shop called Mr Fix It-I won't forget.

The bottom line is that I don't want my practices to contribute to the destruction of our natural resources. Step by little step-rewriting the script to better my existence.