Tag Archives: photography

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teen toys today

Um, you say, these don’t really look like toys.

I had friends visit last week. These are the thirteen year old’s toys: he enjoys fixing cell phones and computers and asked if we had any old game platforms. I talked to my son and the thirteen year old is taking the ones he wants. And what was he working on in the picture? Replacing the broken glass in my cell phone.

Now many of you are jealous and would like this teen to visit you. My cell phone has a lot of parts and many tiny screws. There was only one left over and the phone is working fine and the glass is unbroken! Wow! Toys of mine that were used in explorations and repairs included my vacuum and I provided the super glue.

I thanked him with a comic book subscription, since we share an enjoyment and appreciation of comic books.

One of the most useful toys I had growing up was a china doll. Useful you say? Yes. We sewed doll quilts and doll clothes and made our own furniture and hoped for the tiny books in the Cracker Jack boxes. How is this so helpful? Surgeons asked where I had learned my stitching techniques. It was quite delightful to reply, “Doll clothes.” It really did help. I made one old fashioned dress with miles of ruffle, all hemmed by hand. In the 1970s I was embroidering my jeans and adding studs and we dyed t-shirts with melted paraffin and crayons. My sister and I nearly burned down the kitchen once, but we did learn which techniques to use to stop wax fires.

I am not sure who made this dress for the doll. My grandmother Katy Burling sewed doll clothes for us and helped us make patterns and nine patch doll quilts. My other grandmother Evelyn Ottaway could knit the tiniest doll clothes on knitting needles: I still have some of those as well. A tiny stole knit out of a furry yarn and lined with brown satin. My mother was an artist and loved crafts as well but NOT sewing. Pottery yes, sewing no.

My daughter promptly illustrated her lack of the packrat gene by putting half the furniture and stuff away and having a spare and elegant doll house. She learned to sew but does not like it much to date.

What childhood toys and ideas contributed to your adult skills?

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: toy.

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lung pizazz

The tent in the center is mine. I took this two days ago as soon as I had it set up. The big deal is that pulmonary rehabilitation is WORKING.

My friend B from the east coast invited me to hike with him and two other friends. They were going up the Hoh River trail. The initial hike was five miles and then camp. They will go up to Glacier Meadows.

I looked the hike over. The first five miles starts at around 500 feet and stays near the river and fairly level. I bought a pass for the campsite and loaded my pack. I took the pack to pulmonary rehab on Monday and carried it on the treadmill. I went for 25 minutes at 3mph, loaded. My heart rate went to 110 (normal at rest is 60 to 100, though mostly cardiologists don’t care if it’s below 60 unless bad symptoms or heart block) and above, but I held my oxygen sats. I decided I could GO! We met in Port Angeles and then drove up. We didn’t start hiking until 3:30pm but got to the campsite, ate and set up tents.

The next day I hiked back alone. A couple coming in stopped me and said, “There is a bear. It went up a tree when we saw it.” The next trio said that the bear was on the ground and seemed undisturbed. I had my whistle out and kept hiking, a little cautious. I did not see a bear.

As I reached the parking lot, I reread the signs. “Cougar area, hiking alone not recommended.” Oh. Well, but I really was rarely alone. I counted the people hiking up and there were 147 in that 5 mile stretch. Some out for day hikes, some with packs headed to Glacier Meadows or beyond, some with almost no equipment.

Anyhow, I am so delighted that my lungs have recovered enough to hike! I don’t think they are ready for altitude and the climb to Glacier Meadows. Maybe by next summer. Hooray for lung pizazz!

https://www.nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/hoh-river-trail.htm

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pizazz!

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mermaid vacation

Do mermaids go on vacation? I think they would come up rivers and explore. Lie around on the banks and talk about the ocean and whales and fish and annoying tourist boats.

I took this yesterday on the Hoh River.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: mermaid.

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On pants and pronouns

My pronouns are now per and pers. And that’s what I am going to call you and you and you over there too. Because I don’t care what is in your pants unless I have personal interest (rare and unlikely) or unless I am working as a physician. Per and pers are short for person. Generic. Nongendered because I don’t care. I suppose we could use Pee and Pees for People, which would amuse small children and immature adults (which includes me).

As a physician I need to know if someone is XX, XY, XO, XYY, or any of the other variations because it affects health. I need to know if the XX is of childbearing age or before that or after that. I need to know if the testes are undescended or have been removed because of prostate cancer. But otherwise I don’t need to know and I don’t care what is in your pants.

Get over gender. Everyone can wear kilts or carhartts or makeup or glitter or boots or toe cleavage sandals (ok, the five inch heels are really bad for your feet) and I don’t care. The first time I met my future husband was in a contra dance line where the people coming up the line were upset or rattled. I wondered why and there he was, wearing his mother’s wrap around lavender flowered skirt and dancing the “male” part. Now the parts are often called “lead” and “follow” because the callers don’t care what is in the dancer’s pants either.

When I saw my future husband in a wrap around lavender skirt, it was not love at first sight. What I thought was, “Well, that is not your routine Beltway Bandit. Bet he’s not an attorney.” This was Washington, DC in 1985 or 6 and the place was crawling with attorneys. I was correct. He is not an attorney. I thought, well, at least he’d be interesting to talk to and I found the consternation in the contra dance line amusing.

I did not talk to him that night. The next time I ran into him was at a square dance at the Washington Cathedral Nunnery. (You now may be wondering if this is true. It is.) He was wearing pants. After the square ended, I said, “You look different from a week ago.” He laughed. “The woman I am here with hates it when I wear skirts,” and he promptly invited me out. Ok.

Marge Piercy published Woman on the Edge of Time back in 1976. The pronouns in one of the two futures were per and pers. I am fine with that and I am not fine with having every single person pick their own pronouns. If we are going to pick our own pronouns, I am going to be “Mother Superior”, because I think it is stupid. Make it generic and non-gendered and I have no issue with generic. I don’t care what is in people’s pants or shirts or whatever, nor do I care what gender they are born nor their present identification nor their future plans. Except, as I said, if I am romantically interested or if I am working as a physician.

And since I love words and wordplay, my reply to the next query about my pronouns will be in a very sexy voice. “My pronouns are puuuurrrr and puuurrrrrs.”

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crack

even stone can crack
under great pressure
under great heat
under great force
under water

water?

yes, water
water wearing the surface
water rolling the rocks against each other
water wearing the cliffs and the trees fall down

even stone can crack
under great pressure
under great heat
under great force
under water

___________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crack.