You just never know…

What you may come to.

I spent part of the last two days vacuuming a ceiling.

Let me say that again.

I spent part of the last two days vacuuming a ceiling.

This is not a sentence I thought I would ever write in my life.

Certainly, with any vacuum I’ve ever had up until now, it would have been impossible to write it with any degree of truth. I have a central vacuum now, however, so there’s a long, LONG hose and many attachments. Hence, vacuuming a ceiling is a possibility.

In my laundry room—which is “unfinished” to a large extent—it just suddenly seemed like a good idea. The room has—I guess they call it a dropped ceiling or a suspended ceiling. So, it has these tiles—which surely need to be replaced as they have not stood up well to some leaks prior to our ownership. Trouble is, they don’t all need to be replaced—only I can’t find any matching tiles so the whole thing is just one of the million or so items on the To Do list.

In the meantime, I thought I would turn my attention to cleaning the laundry room in my one-hour-a-day plan. While I was at it, I vacuumed the tiles. I just stuck the brush attachment on the end of the wand and ran the whole thing over the tiles.

Darned if they don’t look better. (Not good, mind you. Just better.)

The whole time I was doing it, however, I was in a state of bemusement because I was vacuuming the ceiling!

And, you know? I expect I may be vacuuming other ceilings eventually. It’s an old house with a crow’s foot texture on the ceiling in all the other rooms. Looks like a dust catcher to me.

On the one hand, I feel nostalgic for the days when I kept the vacuum on the floor. On the other, well, it amused me quite a bit—and provided a blog post, so, hey!

You really just never know.

Run away.

“Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.”

~ Twyla Tharp

Do y’all know Twyla Tharp? I find it hard to believe you’ve never heard the name—and once heard, it’s likely to be remembered, isn’t it?

But, not everybody pays attention to certain things, so it’s possible that you don’t know that Ms. Tharp has been one of our most eminent choreographers for over 40 years. She has studied with the greats of Modern Dance, had her own dance company, worked with the American Ballet Theatre, created Broadway shows.

One of those careers of stunning achievement.

When that happens, it’s really great when the achiever lets you in on some of the secrets.

So, here’s something I found a few years ago that I re-read from time to time:

The Creative Habit: Learn it and Use it for Life
by—you guessed it!—Twyla Tharp

It sits on my shelves near my copy of The Artist’s Way with which it shares some common ground. Not quite as much of a workbook, maybe, The Creative Habit reinforces the idea that creativity is something you can work toward.

There are useful exercises and a strong, practical approach, an understanding that creative work is work. I get the sense that Ms. Tharp agrees with Pablo Picasso: Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.

I know that this book is a good one for me to go to when I’m just floundering around, not doing anything. At the very least, it reminds me that doing something is better than doing nothing. It gives me practical tips on figuring out what to do and how to shape it. At the best, it inspires me to keep working.

Who could ask for anything more?

To sleep,

Perchance to dream*

(Flapdoodle!)

Thankful today that, in general, I get enough sleep.

It’s on my mind, because Tuesday night, I did not get enough sleep. And I’m a little ticked off about that.

See, I started the evening with the firm intention of awaiting the outcome to the election. I was aware that meant it could be a very long night, but I was game. I wanted to know what happened. It seemed to me to be infinitely more desirable to be disappointed (assuming disappointment was the outcome—and it was 50/50, you know)—infinitely more desirable to be disappointed and then go to bed than to awake to disappointment.

There was always the chance of a joyful outcome, too. And how much better to end the day on a high note than to miss all the excitement.

Having reviewed these possibilities exhaustively (2 or 3 seconds, at least), I decided to stay up and see what happened.

All well and good, and the election was called remarkably early. At something like 11:15 pm, it looked like I would be heading off to bed.

Then there was a little problem with math over on the losing side, and we were suddenly looking at—we didn’t know what.

Now, a person cannot go to bed with the spectre of that famous photo of Truman the morning after the 1948 election hanging over her. She has to stay up to see what’s going to happen.

The result was that I didn’t get to bed until after two a.m.

You wouldn’t think that would be a big deal, but I’m neither as young as I once was nor,apparently, as resilient. I am certainly not as used to staying up late as I had been in the past. (56 hours without sleep is my limit. After that, I start to hallucinate. I know this from experience.)

Anyway, the election ended, the speeches were made, the pundits talked…and talked…and talked, and eventually, I went to bed.

I didn’t have to do anything important today, so it’s no bit deal that I’m tired and unproductive and have had a bit of a headache all day, but I do realize I need to be thankful for those days—and nights—I get enough sleep.

If you’re thinking about pulling an all-nighter sometime, I encourage you to think again. You might get more done if you take time to take a nap.

Try it. You’ll like it!

* Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Sc. 1

And now?

Here we are.

With any kind of luck at all, we have a clear winner in the U.S. Presidential election. I’m writing this as the returns are coming in (what? you think I get up at the crack of dawn to do this?)

At just about midnight, all the major networks have called the race for President Obama. However, the Romney campaign is not conceding, at the moment.

It doesn’t look like they have a path to victory where the math is possible, but they’re holding out. This seems to be part of a trend. Facts don’t count. We don’t believe data. We don’t believe science.

I wonder today, on this Wondering Wednesday, why anybody wonders why we have a problem with education.

However, it is fair to make sure that the votes have been counted. I’m okay with that, although I’d like to be able to go to bed knowing it’s settled.

And I wonder if this—once it is settled—means that we might get an actual working government where people realize not everybody can have exactly what they want and compromise is not always a bad thing.

Because there’s one thing I don’t wonder—and that is that we cannot go forward if people don’t get out of the way.

I’m going to bed thinking and hoping that this is a good day for the United States of America.

(UPDATE: It’s 1 am and Mr. Romney has conceded. It is over, and it is a good day for the United States of America. I still wonder if we can move forward, but I have higher hopes than I did yesterday.)

Like magic

Both of these tips.

If you are a U.S. citizen and you voted already—today or in the last few weeks—thanks! And congratulations for taking part in the democratic process!

If you haven’t voted yet, what are you sitting around reading blogs for? Get up, get out, and get to the polls!

First tip for this Tuesday is use it or lose it.

Then, in a quick trip from the sublime to the ridiculous—or, at least, the mundane—the second tip is related to yesterday’s post about my cleaning miracle.

Just thought I’d take a minute to alert you to a handy-dandy product called the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Now, in the interests of full disclosure, I suspect I may own some shares of a mutual fund that may own some shares of Procter & Gamble. I get bored to death reading fund prospectus,* so I’m not entirely sure. It’s certainly possible, though.

However, my purpose here is your profit, not mine.

The profit in the Magic Eraser is that it really is like magic.

I’d seen the ads, of course, but I figured it was just another attempt to get me to spend money. When one of my cousin’s (once removed) suggested it as a way to clean grout, I thought I’d give it a try.

Well!

It’s kind of amazing. First of all, it cleans with just water. No chemicals at all. How cool is that? And secondly, it really does clean. You just moisten it a bit and run it over whatever you’re cleaning, and wowee!. I’m sure it works better on some surfaces than others, but I can tell you—white grout? Excellent! Melamine shelves and cabinet doors? Perfect!

The only downside that I can see is that the “sponges” don’t last too long. They have a terrific effect while they do, though. (I’ve heard they aren’t too good for certain painted and polished surfaces. As with anything, please use caution. Test in an inconspicuous spot before going hog wild.)

Anyway, it seems to be a useful product. Thought you might like to know.

* You probably thought the plural of “prospectus” was “prospecti.” Or, possibly, “prospectuses.” Me, too. Turns out we were both wrong. Something to do with the fourth declension (your guess is as good as mine) in Latin. The plural of “prospectus” is “prospectus.” (And they say English is hard to learn.)

Miracle in the making

My hour of power.

For a week now, I’ve been implementing a new approach to housework.

One hour a day.

I pick a room, start in one corner, and proceed all the way around it cleaning everything in sight—whether it needs it or not. For exactly one hour. When the hour is up, I’m done.

It seems to be working pretty well. My house is as clean as it has ever been since we moved into it. Now, it should be noted that I had done a big housecleaning push before I started this hour a day method. Company was anticipated, so, you know—extra cleaning. Honored guest, and all that.

So, my goal is to keep the house in that condition without killing myself.

So far, so good.

I’ve also been doing an hour of yard work a day—for the same reason.

Seven days have passed since I began this experiment. That’s exactly one-third of the time “they” say it takes to create a new habit. I don’t know for sure if it’s going to last, or if an hour a day is going to be enough. (My house is a lot bigger than the apartment I used to live in.) I might need to devote extra time periodically. Almost certainly, big projects—like cleaning out closets, etc.—will require extra effort. For general, ordinary cleaning, however, this is promising.

It’s enough time to make some progress, but not enough time to exhaust me or bore me silly. (I started out silly, so. . .that’s probably not a fair criterion.)

You might want to try this. Maybe you can’t spare an hour a day. You might manage a half hour or fifteen minutes. There’s definitely something pleasant about hanging out in an environment you know is clean.

It’s kind of a miracle.

Do you know what time it is?

I’m not sure you do.

Too many clocks. Too many different settings.

In case you forgot, last night—Saturday—or, really, some time this morning—here in the U.S., we were supposed to set our clocks back to accommodate the switch from Daylight Savings Time back to Standard Time.

I went around and did it yesterday afternoon since I had nowhere I had to be later Saturday in a timely manner. In other words, other than any possible TV shows I might want to watch, it didn’t matter to me what time it was.

There are people who don’t bother. They use their computers and their cell phones—devices that are supposed to change automatically. My problem with that is that I have noticed that the phone companies don’t always change the time until Monday. The subways never did. And the computer. . .well, let’s just say my trust level is low. I was unduly influenced, perhaps, by HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Or by the Blue Screen of Death. It doesn’t bode well for any chance of me turning the driving over to a computerized car, does it? My PC may change back to Standard Time on time, but, you know, my Palm Pilot changed about two weeks ago. I guess it never got the message about the new, extended Daylight Savings Time.

Anyway, there are the clocks that changed automatically and the clocks that are going to change automatically but haven’t yet and the clocks you changed manually and the clocks way up high on a shelf that you forgot to change and the clocks you changed manually but accidentally mixed up the AM and PM and the clocks that are off anyway because the power went out for twenty minutes last Tuesday and the wristwatch in the back of the drawer and so on.

To say nothing of your body clock which is going to have you waking up at 4 or 5 am for the next few days no matter what the other clocks say.

Good luck with all that.

An unending supply of dirt

Actual dirt.

Not gossip or scandal or anything like that.

I’m talking about dirt. Erosion. Because I have been noticing for some time now that the yard is trying to take back the driveway. Little by little, the lawn has crept over the edge.

We’ll set aside the fact that I have plenty of bare spots on the lawn itself—where, you know, if the grass wanted to move somewhere, there would be little, if any, resistance. Or, wait. Let’s not. Set it aside, I mean. What possesses the grass to try to grow over and through the concrete driveway instead of turning around and nestling into the nice soft dirt?! I think the grass might be in cahoots with my Wizard of Oz trees. I don’t want to sound paranoid, but, seriously, what possible benign reason could there be for trying to grow on concrete?

Anyway, I’ve been noticing this encroachment, and yesterday, I decided I would have to do something about it. I started out using my weed whacker as an edger—a task at which it is surprisingly effective. However, there came a point on the driveway where I was going to have to trim back about a foot (a foot!) of dirt and grass.

Enter the grubbing hoe. The grubbing hoe is a very nice implement. I like it. Using it, I found the edge of the driveway again. And I dislodged most of the dirt and grass that had crept over it.

But I live in Florida, and the dirt is mostly sand, and pretty much as fast as you remove the side of a hill, the hill slides down.

An unending supply of dirt.

Next stop. The home improvement store.

I guess it’s time to get some of that plastic edging until one of two things happens. Either the remaining grass will put out tendrils and roots to anchor the sand, or we will have the time, energy, funds, and artistic sense to come up with something better. Meanwhile, I’m going to end that unending supply of dirt!

What becomes a legend most?

Sharing their stories!

Everybody loves behind-the-scenes info. Don’t they? I know I do. I love to hear how writers and actors and producers got started, what they remember most about their work experiences, what advice they have for others aspiring to similar achievements. It’s fascinating.

Of course, it’s best if it’s someone whose work you know, but an opportunity to hear from someone you’ve never happened to encounter is a gift, too. It can open your eyes to treasures you might not otherwise find.

Agnes de Mille came to speak at my college once. I’d heard of her. I knew she was, famously, the choreographer for the original Oklahoma. What I didn’t know and was delighted to discover was that she was a terrifically entertaining speaker and a wonderful writer. I went and found her books, learned a great deal and enjoyed them thoroughly.

Harold Clurman, John Houseman, Vincent Price—all became doors into new information once I had the opportunity to hear them talk.

So imagine my glee when I stumbled upon a website created by the Television Academy Foundation which hosts over 700 oral history interviews conducted in-depth with the legends of television.

EmmyTvLegends.org

There are over 3000 hours of interviews with actors, writers, directors, newscasters, tv executives, technical gurus and more. And they are not drive-by, promote-the-project-of-the-moment interviews. They are hours-long, thoughtful discussions. What I always thought talk shows should be and almost never are. (Dick Cavett’s show being a notable exception.)

It’s all fascinating. Sometimes funny, sometimes inspiring, sometimes eye-opening. The interviewers are good. They ask excellent questions, and they stay out of the way. Interesting facts come to light, and personalities are revealed.

You can spend a lot of time there. So, be warned. But spending your time in the company of some of our most creative people? Is there any better way?

I love New York

Long may it live.

Today, I’m thankful that I have heard from most of my NY/NJ friends.

Hurricane Sandy—as far as I can judge from a distance—was about the worst thing that’s happened there in a long, long time. It’s true that it lacked the shock value, the loss-of-invulnerability fear factor of 9/11, but the damage was more widespread.

However, people have been speaking up here and there, and they all seem to be all right. Most of the New Yorkers even have power. Some of the Long Islanders and all of the Jersey folks are in the dark, but they have roofs over their head and working cell phones.

I suppose the biggest problem is water—inside and out. Flood waters are health hazards on many levels—and high rises depend on pumps so even if the water mains are intact, there’s no running water in the building. So, that’s a concern.

There are millions, if not billions, of dollars worth of damage. And a fair number of homeless people just now.

But most of the people are okay.

And that is certainly something for which to be thankful while we sympathize with those who have lost their lives, their living spaces, and, temporarily we hope, their livelihoods.

As always, the Red Cross is on the scene.

If anybody wants to help out, you can donate $10 by texting REDCROSS to 90999 on your cell phone. Quick and easy. The $10 just gets added to your cell phone bill for you to pay next time around. As in most disasters, they really need money more than canned goods or blankets or whatever.

I’m sure that New York and New Jersey will survive this, as they survive most things—with panache. But, golly! What a mess!

I’m also sure large thanks are due to New York’s finest and to their Jersey equivalents and to FEMA and the National Guard and to all the federal, state and local officials who worked so hard to coordinate with each other.

I love New York. Thanks for hanging on and hanging in.

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Monthly Archives: November 2012