3516 A Monday in April

Monday, April 16, 2012

Alan Greenspan, to Congress: I know you believe you understand
what you think I said,
but I am not sure you realize that what you heard
is not what I meant.

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It got into the low 80s F today. I don't know what to think of that.

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The following is lifted from Field (http://field-negro.blogspot.com/2012/04/mole.html). He always has interesting observations, and tidbits I find nowhere else. He's worth a visit (but, as per my previous post, don't read past the first one or two comments. He gets some insane trolls, which is unfortunate, because buried in the dross are some real insights. I wish he'd monitor comments, but, I guess he has a life....)

Finally, I have to have a last word about Flipper and this mommygate controversy.

“I wanted to increase the work requirement,” Romney said. “I said, for instance, that even if you have a child two years of age, you need to go to work. And people said, ‘Well that's heartless,' and I said ‘No, no, I'm willing to spend more giving daycare to allow those parents to go back to work. It'll cost the state more providing that daycare, but I want the individuals to have the dignity of work.’” [Source]

So, in essence, what he is saying is that there is no "dignity" in being a stay at home mother.

Well, actually Romney was talking about welfare mothers, and I think he's implying that there is more dignity in supporting your children yourself than in allowing the government to do it. But the statement was ripe for the same misinterpretation as last week's "never worked a day", but it didn't happen. Nobody from the opposition said anything about his implication that there's no dignity in raising children.

Why?

I don't understand.

By the way, he's accused of "flipping". Why is that bad? I actually prefer people who are willing to change their position based on changing circumstances and new information. I wouldn't want someone in power who is so bullheaded and so convinced that he's right, and so afraid of looking wishy-washy, that he refuses to listen to arguments, won't change his mind.

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I make my oatmeal with water. I don't use any milk with it because mostly I don't have milk in the house because I don't use it up fast enough. But I like milk with oatmeal.

This morning I was eying the instant Irish oatmeal and the low-fat plain yogurt, wondering which to have for breakfast, and I had this great idea!

Yup.

Don't.

The taste and smell is indescribable, having nothing of either oatmeal nor yogurt. Gag-worthy.

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The Nugget is now walking (well, running). No more crawling. Talking is a bit slower. She occasionally says something quite clearly, but one is never quite sure, because she's talking to herself.

She has had a relationship with music since birth. She has lots of toys that play music, and she always dances when she hears music. As an infant, dancing was kicking and waving arms in rhythm. Then it was rocking on her hands and knees, or bouncing while sitting. Now she bounces standing. It's amazing. Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer" is a favorite, and when her toy cell phone played it today, when it was over, she very clearly said "Eee-iii-eee-iii-ooo".

She'll be a year old next week.

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I went to the first session of a dance class this evening. I have no flexibility left anywhere! Nothing was working except my wrists. I'm afraid I may have exceeded my capacity - won't know until tomorrow. I took aspirin as soon as I got home to head off swelling around my lower back. We'll see.

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2495 Hilly Highway, Super Drummer

Sunday, July 12, 2009

American journalism thrives on exploring conflicts, often to the exclusion of ideas.

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After the hawk-watching broke up yesterday, I headed for Cornwall-on-Hudson, a village on the river just north of West Point. There was a bellydance show there last night, and I figured since I was in the area....

I found the location easily enough. Given West Point and the proximity to N. New Jersey and The City, I expected the area to be very built up. It wasn't. It was little villages tucked into the mountains, and gas stations were few and far between. I was going to need gas before I headed home, and I was afraid they'd be closed by late evening, so I kept on through the village headed south, to find a gas station.

Ack! The next hour was panic-filled. I found nothing on routes 218 or 9 but government reservation (West Point land), woods, and mountains. No towns, no people, no one to ask.

However, in the midst of my panic, I did find something wonderful. Remember this photo from my river tour last month? That cut in the side of the mountain (click to enlarge) is a road.
I found myself on that road yesterday, entirely by accident. It's route 218. It's windy (as in curvy) and windy (as in getting buffeted around by fast-moving air), so it's closed in the winter. There's only one viewing spot where you can pull the car off the road, and the spot is large enough for only two cars at a time. The following photos are taken from that spot.

Looking south. The West Point campus is just beyond that mount. The straight fill is railroad tracks.
Looking north. The island to the left in the following photo is Bannerman's Island - the one with the castle ruins. In the far distance is (probably) the Newburgh-Beacon bridge. The leaves are blurry because they were whipping in the wind. So was I.
Looking south-east. The village is probably Cold Spring

The road, looking north.
Pretty cool, eh?

I finally found a gas station, and got to the dance show a half-hour after it started. I stayed for about 20 minutes and then left. I would have liked to have stayed a lot longer, but the room was very dim, and the only lights were small bulbs (like Christmas tree lights) strung on the backdrop, behind the performers. Bad bad bad plan. The eyestrain was giving me a headache. I had to leave.

The dancers were good, but the drummer/guitarist was incredible. Mindblowing. I've never seen hands move so fast. He was playing a dumbek with his hands, and then accompanying himself on two deeper drums with his feet.

I'm very sorry that I have forgotten his name, and deleted the email announcement. (If anyone knows for sure, enlighten me in the comments.)
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1233 Spring Caravan

Saturday, May 5, 2007

It's a hair after midnight, but I'm still considering it Saturday. Posting from the host hotel for the Rakkasah Spring Caravan.

I got about 2 hours sleep last night (Friday night). I wanted to get to Somerset, NJ, by 2:00 pm, Willow was dancing at 2:37 pm, so I'd have to leave the house by a little before noon at the latest, so I'd have to get up by 10 am to take care of everything I'd have to do before leaving. Shouldn't have been a problem, except that at 3:30 am I decided I really needed the underskirt for the Assuit dress I want to wear Sunday, and it needed hemming. When I finally got to bed I was so worried about oversleeping that I couldn't fall asleep. Finally got to sleep about 8 am, and then - of course - slept through the alarm.

I flew around the house, and got out at 12:15 pm, and stopped by the bank ATM for money. The guy in line ahead of me took forever and didn't seem to do anything. When I was my turn, the ATM took my card, asked all the correct questions, then said thank you and gave me my card back. No money. So I had to go into the bank. Turns out the guy ahead of me had the same problem.

Now, I figure the cashier has to do two things: 1) find out if the ATM debited my account, and if so, cancel that transaction, and 2) gimme the money.

Instead, the cashier decided to find out what was wrong with the ATM and try to fix it. Agh! I don't have time for this! Gimme the money!

I didn't leave the village until 1 pm ish. This gave me 1.5 hours for a 2 hour trip. (Mapquest says 2 hrs 12 minutes, 135 miles.)

Now, I don't much speed. If the sign says 55, I do 55. Maybe 57 if I'm in a hurry, and I feel guilty about that. Today I did 80 in a 55 zone on an interstate limited-access highway (and if anyone in law enforcement is reading this, uh, I made that part up for the sake of the story). I made it in time to see Willow dance, with literally 2 minutes to spare. (So Mapquest must be wrong, because using their figures, I had to AVERAGE 90 mph.)

Spring Caravan is a bit different from the fall Rakkasah East, because this one is billed as Tribal Fusion. It's a different crowd, and a different style on the stage. I like it better.

As usual, I spent a bunch of money. I bought a beaded purse, some sheer beledi dresses, a dress similar to my purple SCA dress that looks so good on me, but in black and a smaller size, and some silver and stone (lapis, carnelian) necklace pendants. I can't feel guilty, because the prices are much much lower here than you'd find anywhere else. $40 for a caftan you'd pay $70 for online. $20 for beaded shawls you'd pay $50 for elsewhere. Last year I bought a cut velvet beaded and fringed opera coat for $50, and saw the exact same coat in an uptown Kingston store for $120. I would come to Rakkasah just to shop.

Sixteen of us went out for dinner, overwhelmed a Ruby Tuesday, "Do you have reservations?', "Uh, no, but it's only 4:30, you can't be that busy...." Back for more performances after dinner. Something funny - as Willow was getting up from the table, her fingers got pinched between two chairs. The general reaction was, "Oh well, it's ok, who cares, you've already danced."

Party in the hotel bar after the show paused for the night. Dance floor full of belly dancers. Djinn played. Every male who had a drum joined in. One group of women started up an ATS group on the lower floor, group improv via hand signals, and that was fun to watch. Usual Rakkasah prices did not apply - my one Amaretto on the rocks was $10.43.

Thence to bed.
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1232 Moroccan

Friday, May 5, 2007

[Later edit - corrected spelling, added dancer's links.]

Lots of calls and paperwork today. Was forced to tell BOA that Jay was no longer living. Didn't tell them exactly how long I've been using credit cards still in his name. Heck, I'm making the payments, aren't I?

Moroccan dinner and belly dancers at Rive Gauche in uptown Kingston. FirstWoman and me. Dancers were Ayleeza and Barushka, both of whom I like. Julian on drums.

Got home late. Still have to hem a dress, and pack for tomorrow's trip to Rakkasah Spring Caravan tomorrow. Spending Sunday with The Man.

G'night.

816 Dance Photos, 4 of 4

[Later Edit - Yes, this is Daughters of Ishtar, not Alchemy.]

I think this might be the Alchemy Dance Theater, but then again it might be Daughters of Ishtar (help?) Whatever. The have the prettiest cholis (tops). They look like they might be made from sari silk.


At one point (before the rain) I was looking at some belts one of the vendors had, and she asked if I was a dancer. I laughed and said "Once upon a time, 30 years ago." She (a youngster) said "Wow! I bet the dance has changed a lot since then." I said yes, it has.

It has probably changed more in the past 40 years than in the preceeding 2,000 years. Movies and tourism have had their effect.

There are subtle things. When you look at the photo above, the ladies are doing a hip (lift and) thrust, and the way they are doing it looks very nice. But back in my day, isolation was all. We would not have leaned the upper body like that. We would have got the same hip extension, but we'd keep the shoulders parallel to the floor, and the rib cage perpendicular to the floor. When we did hip movements, the upper body was kept out of it. Nowadays, there's more flow.


Willow was supposed to dance early in the evening, but when she was asked if she'd like to dance, she declined. So, near the end, when she decided to dance after all, I'd used up all my film. These are photos 25 and 26 on a 24-shot roll. As often as I have seen her dance, I never had a camera with me before, and this time I did, and I was still caught short. And they are terrible pictures. Oh, well, photos never do her justice anyway. You have to see her move.

This is an example of how NOT to photograph a bellydancer - catch her in the middle of a belly roll.
Her floor work is incredible, but she was dancing on a squishy sopping carpet, so no one expected her to go to the floor, but suddenly she leaned back, and we all held our breath, and whoop! She did a turkish drop right into the wetness. Audience pleaser to the core.

#600 Sunday Goddess

Monday, March 13, 2006

Laverne on "Empty Nest": Those who help those who won't help themselves are stupid.

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Man, I'm so goddessed-out I can't even remember yesterday. Everything is all running together.

There were a few children at the fest. One particular little boy (6 years old?) was totally out of control all three days. If he wasn't running in circles and climbing on everything, he was up on the balcony that wrapped around the room throwing hats and napkins down onto the stage and dance floor, or running the circle around the balcony - thud thud thud while people were trying to perform. And his father sat there in dreds and rasta cap smiling at the kid. Like he was proud of him. (This IS Woodstock, after all.)

After I had left Saturday night, the kid knocked something glass off the counter, something made of very thin glass, so Sunday there were tiny shards of glass all over the floor, tracked everywhere. The girls dance in bare feet! So The Pixie and I swept the floor. And swept and swept. My comment was that I'd like to spank the kid's father.

I remember (and my memory is all mixed up now) only one group dancing Sunday, Serpentessa's advanced students. They were fun. One very pretty girl didn't smile the whole time - a few times she almost broke into a smile and then she quashed it. It's ok to keep a deadpan expression when dancing, but when you do, you should keep your eyes lowered, or look at your hands. That sends the feeling of shyness, or intense internal communion. Otherwise, deadpan audience contact looks like fear or boredom. If you look up, if you make eye contact with the audience, you really should have some expression. A smile, anger, challenge, flirtation, wonder, something.

There was a beautiful white-haired woman who played the guitar and sang. She was good, and enjoyable. But, well, it's Woodstock. I don't always "get" the music. Especially original stuff. And it was hard to hear the words over that rotten kid. She also sang one song in duet with the woman who sang at the harp on Saturday, and the harmony was very nice.

The Gypsy, the Pixie, and I walked to the art gallery to see the Dark Prince's work. I was expecting photographs, because that's what I know of him, but there was only one (amazing) photograph. The rest of his work was paintings, his chief interest. We've gotta get him to do some larger work for next year.

The owner of the gallery had some wood pieces of her own work displayed, double-sided panels about 7 feet tall, carved/painted/inlaid. I was very interested in one of them, and asked how much it was (I expected a high figure - the amount of work in them was amazing), and then found out that they were three of a four-part set, that, when finished, would sell for something like $170,000. Oops.

A postscript: Concerning the college group that danced Saturday, it turns out I called it right. They don't have an instructor. They just got together and started dancing.

Driving home, I took a side trip past the little four-room log cabin I had lived in when I first moved to this area. (The place in Ruby that I had showed you, Daughter.) Well, it isn't there any more. Instead, there's a big two-story colonial!

And another piece of nostalgia bites the dust.