Saturday, July 30, 2011


"I am not interested in shooting new things --
I am interested in seeing new things."
~ Ernst Haas, photographer

My dear friend Natalie introduced me to Parabolaan extraordinary and beautiful magazine.
I found the above quote on an e-mail announcing the next issue.
The Fall 2011 issue is devoted to "the critical act of seeing. I find that a very fine idea. 

May we all see today what the camera lens sees,
free of bias and unburdened by judgement.

Image: "Parachute Flowers" by Ernst Haas

Monday, July 25, 2011

From the stillness

"Let us accept the invitation,
ever open,
from the Stillness,
taste its exquisite sweetness,
and heed its silent instruction."

~ Paul Brunton

Monday, July 11, 2011

Bliss out with some puppyness

Three-day old puppies at Diamond Dog Racing Kennel in Ohio, brought to you by the same musher who brought me Ginsberg. Fair warning: this can be very addictive . . . you might want to set a timer! Enjoy

Streaming by Ustream

Keeping an eye on things

The ever-watchful Miss Cora

Meanwhile, back at the 44th Street Accidental Microkennel . . . 

Mr. B is doing well following emergency surgery Saturday morning to reattach the retina in his left eye.

We'll know more about his prognosis in about 10 days. He did have a bit of scarring on the retina, which means it had been detached a bit longer than optimal and could complicate full recovery. But we're hoping for the best!

He's quite the sleepyhead, which is good, because rest is always good for healing, yes?

And here he is, the ole pirate himself, in white . . .

See the lovely green wristband? That's a heads-up to any healthcare providers (dentists, in particular) that Mr. B has a gas bubble in his eye. Yep, a gas bubble. That's what keeps everything nicely tucked into place while the retina heals. But it would be a very bad thing for Mr. B to have a dose of nitrous oxide (aka laughing gas) right now. As I understand, the addition of extra gas into his body could expand the bubble quite beyond comfort!

Here's hoping your retinas stay nice and fixed! But if you should happen to notice a larger-than-normal number of floaters speckling your vision or see flashes or sparks or feel as though a window shade has been pulled down over a part of your vision, please know that such symptoms constitute an emergency. Posthaste, get yourself to a doctor.

We'll all sleep better if you do.

Cora does her ever-loving best to keep an eye (her blue one, not her brown one) on Mr. B -- and rest.

Whilst Charlotte (left) and Ginsberg (right) think resting is a silly idea when the humans are otherwise preoccupied!

May your week be full of great vision!

Sunday, July 10, 2011

How do I answer that question?

She was so cheery, grabbing the menus, leading me to my table.

"How's your day been so far?"

How on earth to answer that question? I wondered.

I'd awakened before my iPhone alarm was scheduled to go off at 6 am this morning.

[When did I start to use a phone as my night clock and alarm? Not just a cordless phone. A phone I can take ANYWHERE, communicate immediately with anyone who has a similar phone without even uttering one word aloud. A phone that allowed me to snatch out of thin air images that make the phone act and look just like the sony flip numbers clock I used in college--only this one was free!]

I walked my dogs, though I was not supposed to yet, because I'm still recovering from shoulder surgery during which a small camera probe and tiny tools had been inserted into the joint, the bursa exploded, and some diseased bone shaved off -- all so I can continue to mush.

[I'm not even sure they would have performed this surgery on someone older than 30 two decades ago. Mush? Five years ago, I hated winter in Minnesota.]

And when I got back from the walk, Mr. B was ready for me to drive him to the hospital where a precision team would work to reverse a process that not so long ago would have meant certain blindness. When he went to bed last night, Mr. B could see out of the bottom half of his left eye. When he woke up, he could see only out of one-third. By 7 am we were on our way to have his retina reattached.

[That's right. His RETINA reattached. Retina. As in the part of the eye we learned about in grade school that is very very important to seeing. Mr. B and I are fortunate to have excellent health insurance and  healthcare providers who yesterday shuffled Mr. him off post-haste to a super-specialist who arranged for emergency surgery first thing this morning.]

I mean, my head was beginning to spin with the incredibleness of it all. It reminded me of how weird it feels to cover thousands of miles across country in just a few hours by plane, and how LONG that same trip would take by car, let alone by bike or horse!

Within an hour after our arrival at the hospital, a surgeon had removed the vitreous of Mr. B's left eye, tacked the retina back down, and placed a gas bubble into his eye to ensure the handiwork stayed in place. Half an hour later, we were ready to go home.

[Wait! The surgeon just dug around in my husband's eyeball and forestalled imminent blindness. He even told Mr. B he could go back to work on Monday if he felt up to it. How is that possible??]

But before we left, I needed to let the family know that Mr. B was fine. So I sent a group text message and posted a status update on Facebook.

[No phone tree necessary. Everyone who needed to know had the information within 60 seconds. No long distance bills, no busy signals, no messages to leave, no repeating myself 10 times. Just one little press of a button, and swoosh, everyone had the same information I had.]

When we got home, Mr. B snuggled down on the couch with his iPad and drifted off the sleep. My son took over the shift, and I left to run some errands. I also knew I needed to simply process the past crazy 24 hours. So I made a stop at a little cafe.

Enter the hostess and her completely innocuous question, "How's your day been so far?"

I paused a little longer than I normally would, considered how to answer that question, and chose the only response that made any sense at the moment.

Just fine. Thanks.

Image by feeb

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Morning has broken

A few images from my visit to Lake Harriet at 5 am Wednesday  . . . so peaceful.

. . . . .

And this little bit of verse downloaded itself soon after I took these shots. I haven't a clue what it means,  so if you do, please let me know.

Lift your eyes at dawn

Lift your eyes
from your sleep soft face
The pale petal of dawn
washes the shore but briefly

waiting for no one.

The beloved
sweetly raises the veil
for a kiss.
O, wise one,

you already know what to do
Open the window
and begin

Kathleen Kimball-Baker 2011

May you begin  your day in peace . . .

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Move, move, move

I love how uninhibited young kids are, often expressing themselves with crazy gestures and wriggly bodies.

Sometimes I think how fun it would be to twirl and skip and wave my arms around just because someone said something that made me happy. Or, to throw myself on the floor, scream, and kick because I couldn't have my way.

When does that freedom expression change? When do we get so self-conscious that we suck our expressions back inside, leaving only the vestige of our former selves in the lack of a "poker face."

I have friends who can't talk without waving their hands about, and I love that about them. And I know it really helps me to rub my hands on my face when I'm tired, or sad, or frustrated.

But I'm pretty sure I'd be considered a lunatic if I threw myself on the ground and sobbed because my favorite cafe just ran out of the soup of the day.

So I was delighted to see Bobby McFerrin's wonderful video "Opportunity," I just love how he puts his whole body into his music. And while I know full well he sings acapella, I swear it didn't really sink in till midway through this piece that not a single instrument but his voice and body supplied the sound track.


Image by mayercolin


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