Best Things

One of those warm Saturday evenings a week or two ago:

Boz and I are having our walk. He sniffs his usual spots, as dogs do. We turn the corner and dusk has ditched us. Dark moseys down the sidewalk. A mom calls her kid to come in. End of day, end of day.

A gaggle of children still plays in a yard. One of them spots us when the street lights come on. "A customer!" she shouts. "Hi! Do you want to buy a free flower ring? Free flower rings for sale!"

"Just one more," calls a mom to whatever kids in the batch are hers, "then you're coming inside." She stands in the doorway, warm light spilling out from behind her onto the porch. I wave to her. She says "hi." She can't wave back because she's holding a baby in her arms.

Five or six children, of varying sizes but all smaller than I am, gather to meet me, discuss Boz and hawk their free flower rings. I ask to see the merchandise.

The children have a tiny table set on the lawn. (It might actually be a footstool.) On it are displayed in orderly fashion about twenty of the loveliest, most aromatic flowers. The kids have coiled the stems into rings.

"Take this one. And this--this is a good one. One for each hand."

"No, two for each hand."

"Do you think Boz wants one?"

"If the lady gets four then Boz gets four."

"Wait," I say, "how much?"

"They're free!" the children squeal. They are so pleased with themselves.

"Free?" I say. "But they're so beautiful." They truly are.

The kids could not be more thrilled that I'm thrilled. I lavish praise on their works and thank them profusely. Mom calls again. "That was the last one," she says, and calls "have a good evening" to me.

Boz and I walk on. I have a dog leash and a full bag of poo in one hand, and eight pretty flowers in the other. I can't believe my good fortune.

Oxymora

The last bit of sunlight bleeds off the treetops even as the moon rises. Opposites uniting in the natural world to make a thing of beauty.

You can find online lists of oxymora (nice word, that). "Military intelligence" is a popular one but it's sarcastic, which means it's only an oxymoron if you believe the military is not intelligent. A better example is the ever popular "jumbo shrimp," or my new favorite, "butt head." These are oxymora in fact, not opinion. (I also like "Congressional action," but there we go again with the sarcasm.)

Let's hear yours today, sarcastic or not. Oxymorons unite!

Everybody Needs a Break

Coworkers can be lifesavers, no matter where you work.

The Whole Staircase

Of yesterday's photo Dive asked, "So what was around that corner, Petrea? Did you sneak a look?"

I did. Speedway was prescient when she quoted Dr. King, "Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase."

I took both photos a couple of years ago. I was pretty mad at myself when I forgot to use yesterday's picture for Martin Luther King Day last year.

I did climb the stairs. They led to private property, which I did not invade.

But I remember where they are.

Zen Monday: #179

Even holiday Mondays are Zen Mondays. That's the day you tell me what the photo's about instead of the other way around.

The man whose life we celebrate today wasn't famous for his sense of humor, but he's said to have had one.

Tree Story House

We complained about losing thousands of trees when hurricane-force winds hit Pasadena November 30th, but we didn't lose every tree in town. In fact, most of them are still here. It's not that we exaggerated the loss. It's just that Pasadena had so many trees to begin with that although losing so many was painful, we still live in a blessed urban forest.

Boz and I passed this giant on our dog walk yesterday evening. The tree dwarfs its yard partner, making it look like a tiny tree house.

Sometimes when I'm walking--okay, always when I'm walking--I glance through gates into back yards and, if the curtains are open, I peer into windows. It's part nosiness, absolutely. But mostly it's like looking at the pictures while reading a fanciful storybook. I peek at a world I don't know. I imagine what it's like to live inside that story.

Boz doesn't fantasize. He's strictly a non-fiction dog. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this.

I couldn't see into this house. Like a treehouse, it's raised over the sidewalk on a yard of ferns, heightened above the everyday like fiction itself. But the golden light from the windows was enough.

Home Studio

Lately my multi-talented husband's been doing some drawing work (animation, logo design) and yesterday he had an on-camera job. No, he's not launching an acting career. John's arm and hand were filmed at high speed while he drew, to be pixilated in a web video for a new website.

For one day, John's home office became both animation studio and filming location. This would have been claustrophobic for a big crew, but there was enough room for both set and crew because the cinematographer, lighting designer and post-production supervisor are all one person named Denny Kukahiko.

I took this shot of John and Denny before they started shooting. You can see the camera suspended above the drawing table. The lamps are called China Balls. I know they resemble what my parents had in their dining room when I was in high school but these are slightly different and they give a sugary, diffuse light.

There wasn't quite enough room on the set for producer Kendall Kanoa Hawley, who set up her laptop in the dining room. Kendall, Denny and Denny's brother Chad Kukahiko make up Superfreako Productions (rhymes with Kukahiko, see?). You met them here when I told you about their short film, Carefully Descending. John met them through his participation in the Hollywood film collective, We Make Movies. John's got more projects coming up with WMM, so I'll have more to tell you soon.


Update 1/17/12: Cinematographer Denny Kukahiko posted about the shoot on Superfreako's blog.

Update 1/20/12: Hey! Here's the final product.

A Light Touch

the Westin Hotel in Pasadena

Sometimes another person can rub off on you. Spend half an hour with the guy who's always freaked out and you come away needing a cigarette, whether you smoke or not. By contrast, a brief exchange with a store clerk who's got a sense of humor can loosen the clench of your jaw and keep you smiling for the rest of the day.

I don't know about you but I never think of myself as that person--the one who's rubbing something of my own off onto other people. How dare I rub people, how rude! Especially strangers, especially the wrong way.

But I am that person. We all are, every time we come within rubbing distance of each other.

It's something to keep in mind, this unconscious rubbing we do. (I suppose if we keep it in mind it's conscious then, isn't it?) Perhaps a nice pat-pat now and then instead, eh?

Guest Author: Douglas Kearney

My sole contact with poet, librettist, performer and teacher Douglas Kearney has been online, and it's all been a pleasure. Read his post, click his links and definitely watch a video or two. This is one poet who doesn't just stand there and read.

Many thanks to William Goldstein of Pasadena's Red Hen Press for putting me in touch with smart, funny and thoughtful Douglas Kearney.

Horses mill before liquor stores that scowled with St. Ides posters.

Jump cut to a mile of deodar decked with light as pistols and champagne corks drum New Years’ Eve.

Turn to a tuning dial teetering between stations, song to hiss to talk to bzzzzz.

Altadena, right?

Sometimes—ok, a lot of times—I wonder what it means to be a poet of place. Home, block, town, city, state, region and on. How does one write of a place? “Of”, of course, as “about” AND as “composed from.” Like some of those dudes around those liquor stores would ask, “What you claiming?” which, for them, was a question of geography, allegiance and too often, life. For me, it’s a question of how to see and how to be seen seeing.

I set myself to write about Altadena. I cull my memories and I do the external research. I exaggerate, I lie, I shift a street, say Calaveras, back into its Spanish mouth and a skull leers back. And in that skull’s teeth are photographs of times I can’t remember in the house behind the house, next to the babysitters’ and ivy ivy ivy and daddy long legs. I write Altadena this way sometimes, about it. I’ve got poems that show it off like a forearm tattoo or a customized t-shirt. I boosterize like those license plate holders trilling “Beautiful Altadena” to everyone who lives anywhere else.

But more often, I write of Altadena. Composed from. The clash of coyotes and cockapoos; of the Tudor on my street and the ranch home a few doors down. Of mispronounced boulevards and illegible graffiti tags. The horses, Christmas trees and what the foothills used to do to my radio. Tension, juxtaposition, coexistence in the face of contradiction. I find that more and more, my work is of Altadena; my poetry, libretti, performance style, all seem to locate their syntax in this land.

I moved back about a year ago and I’m leaving again in a week. It costs too much, I wrote in a poem. But then I was writing about keeping the Christmas Tree Lane lit in war time. And I was writing about the darkness in my father’s house after my mother died.

She’s in Altadena’s earth.

Like some of those dudes who claimed some of its concrete and dust.

Like my poetry.

Altadena. Write.

Douglas Kearney’s SkinMag, a new chapbook from A5/Deadly Chaps will be out in January. Come to the release reading at Machine Project January 28 at 8. His second book, The Black Automaton (Fence Books), was a National Poetry Series selection in 2009. He has also written a chapbook as broadsides as an lp called Quantum Spit (Corollary Press, 2010) and his first collection, Fear, Some (Red Hen Press) was published in 2006. He’s performing around town. Visit www.douglaskearney.com for details.

Photographic History

the Curtin House at Pasadena Museum of History

In conjunction with the exhibition Southern California’s Evolving Landscape: The Photography of Helen Lukens Gaut (1872-1955) at the Pasadena Museum of History through Feburary 26, the Museum is offering some pretty cool photography workshops next month. Three different teachers, three different workshops, three different perspectives.

Saturday, February 4: Working the Angles with James Staub,
Photo Services Specialist, California Institute of Technology
Staub will focus on what he calls "Moving the furniture around" -- framing the scene, dealing with lighting to your advantage, color balance and other methods to enliven a photo through simple changes to your camera and yourself.
Participants will meet at the Information Kiosk in the East entrance of Pasadena City Hall.

Saturday, February 18: The Basics of Composition with Ibarionex Perello,
Adjunct professor at Art Center College of Design and author of the bestselling book, Chasing the Light: Improving Your Photography with Available Light
Perello's workshop will teach students to improve their compositions. You will learn how to carefully consider what to include and exclude from the frame as well as how brightness, contrast, sharpness, patterns, and color saturation shape how we create and see photographs.
This workshop will take place in Curtin House at Pasadena Museum of History.

Saturday, February 25: Phoneshots with Eliot Crowley, Santa Barbara-based commercial photographer
The best camera is the one you have with you. As Eliot says, “It’s not the camera, it is the photographer.” In just a couple of hours you'll learn some of the capabilities of your phone camera. Be ready at a moment’s notice to make the image, set up the composition and lighting to flatter your subject just by pulling your phone out of your pocket.  Equipment needed:  Cellular phone with camera.
This workshop will take place on the Colorado Street Bridge. Participants should park on Grand Avenue and meet at the East entrance to the Bridge.


Museum Members, $25 per session; Non-Members, $30 per session; Museum Members, $60 for all three workshops; Non-Members, $75 for all three workshops.
Reservations are required. Call 626.577.1660, ext. 10.

I've never gone wrong at the PMH. They're cool people who care about offering quality programs.

Stinky in a Good Way

If you follow the Saga of Boz (and why wouldn't you?) you know he had eye surgery about two and a half weeks ago. He had to wear a (shameful) cone for two whole weeks, during which time there were no none zero zip trips to Hahamongna Watershed Park (for his sake we call it JPL because it has fewer syllables, though I doubt he'd find the real JPL nearly as interesting).

First we inspected the Devil's Gate Dam. The County has dug out a good deal of silt in what might end up as an ongoing project. If you enlarge the picture you can see, left of center, a bunch of ducks ("bunch" being the scientific term), swimming as far away from Boz as they can get, even though all he ever says to them is "murph."

We usually walk all the way from one end of Hahamongna to the other, or at least from the dam to Johnson Field and back, but it was our first trip out in a while and the Pooper was easily pooped. You would be, too, if you had to stop and smell every damn thing in the whole watershed.

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Now, this is totally off the subject but if you like cowboy music, the Coffee Gallery and Rocky the Flying Squirrel, I hope you'll read my latest article on Patch.

Zen Monday: #178

Zen Monday's the day you experience the photo and give us your thoughts rather than me telling you what I think the picture's about. There's no competition, no right or wrong. We're here to have fun.

Sorry about the quality. My iPhone is very, very old. 


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(p.s. I have a new piece on Patch that has nothing to do with Zen Monday.)

Pique Cadillac

Yesterday was different.

I usually work at my desk. I didn't.

Lately it's been sunny and hot. It was foggy and cool.

My dog, no longer forced to wear a cone, was happier. 

We received a spontaneous dinner invitation and accepted it.

Routines serve a purpose, but sometimes you have to break them.

Boz Humbug

Notice the pretty eyes, no longer hidden by a horrible old cone.

Boz and I have found a lot of Christmas trees lying, drying at the curb. We wondered what the deal is so we did a bit of research. It wasn't easy to find but by searching the city's website for "christmas tree" (quotes included) I found this information at the bottom of the Pay as You Throw Program page:

"What should I do with my Christmas Tree?
There is a separate, free, Christmas tree recycling program. Notices will be sent to residents to inform them of their tree pickup date.  For your tree to be collected and recycled, you:

1.  Must place your tree at the curb by your specified time

2.  Must remove all tinsel, ornaments and decorations

3.  Must remove all metal and plastic bowls/stands

4.  Must place tree on the curb, not in the alley"

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who are so anal that when they received their notice umpteen moons ago they put it in a safe place where they would remember it and they now know exactly what their Christmas tree collection date is, and those who think they never received their notice.

Guess which kind of person I am.

Boz is an expert at disseminating information and he wants me to spread the word. Drop-off dates have already passed but you can still put your tree by the curb on your normal curbside pick-up day through January 13th. After that, I imagine you'll have to call the city to arrange for a large item pick-up.

Boz (aka Teddy Butt) suggests you get it done while the do do doing is good.

Unseasonable Charming

It's been unseasonably warm, even for Pasadena. You step outside to take a break. The neighbor girls are having tea on the lawn. You are in Wonderland.

The artwork in the driveway is evidence of their artistic labors.  

Pac Man? you think, who's youth are we living here, anyway?

Attitude Sickness

I haven't been getting out with the camera much lately. Two main reasons: crowd avoidance (Tournament of Roses) and canine coverage (Boz gets his stitch out Friday, the cone will come off and all hell will break loose).

I have a wealth of photos in my archives, and I've used a few. But I still like to shoot. In fact, sometimes I just have to grab the camera and go for it. The photo safaris I've been on have been simpler (no sherpas). The trekking is less rigorous. I don't have to climb very high and I don't even have to carry little packets of dried food.

It gives the phrase "inner landscape" new meaning.

Heaven

Just a quick snapshot I took while walking in Bungalow Heaven yesterday. I mean it--just a quick shot--in case you were wondering why they call it heaven.

There are restrictions when you own a home in a Landmark District. You can't just slap on aluminum siding whenever you want to. (Hallelujah, I say.) In Bungalow Heaven, you cannot "change any exterior feature (except painting)" without a permit and perhaps a Certificate of Appropriateness from the city, whatever that is.

Living in a neighborhood like Bungalow Heaven isn't for everyone. I think those who do take pride in it, and I don't blame them. It's a beautiful part of Pasadena, a pleasure to stroll its tree-lined streets.

Resolve

 

I sort of make new year's resolutions, but not exactly. (Maybe this year I'll begin to consider using slightly more definitive language.)

I'm not going to resolve to do anything I don't want to do, even if it would make me a better person. I wouldn't, for example, resolve to learn how to cook (why would I do that? I don't enjoy cooking) or run a marathon (tried that last year and ended up in physical therapy).

Better for me to lose a bad habit, or do more of something I've been wanting to do. 

So: 

quit worrying

garden more (the condition of the yard is getting to me)

exercise more

You?

Zen Monday: #177

Because this is a very special Monday, at least for Pasadena, we have two kinds of Zen today. First, we have Zen Zen.

Then we have Zen Monday Zen.

Please share your opinions, wisdom and wisecracks in the comments.

Theme Day: Photo of the Year 2011

Happy New Year! It's a big day here on Pasadena Daily Photo, because not only is it a theme day, it's also PDP's birthday. As of today, I've been doing this for four years.

I am insane.

I choose this photo as my Picture of the Year because it was popular, not just with commenters but with me, too. I like the happy, nostalgic world it shows. Funny--that world actually exists on my block. I called the post The Treasures on Your Block based on a series of books by Ann Scheid about Pasadena's residential architecture.

In my mind, there were other contenders for photo of the year, among them:
Hahamongna Upset Overturned
Unruly Posse
A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion
Bulgarini
A Pattern to Follow

If you have other favorites I don't mind if you mention them.

City Daily Photo has a theme day the first of every month. We're now 1436 blogs strong! The newest member is My 365 Manhattan.
Many CDP blogs participate in theme day. Click here to check out those that do.

And thank you for your visits. You're the reason I do this, which sounds like I'm saying "you make me insane." But of course that's not what I mean. I only mean you justify my insanity, and for that I'm grateful.