Friday, 24 August and It’s All About Isaac
You know how you don’t want to go to bed nervous or unhappy? Unfortunately, the last conversation AdventureMan and I had last night before going to bed was whether or not we needed a 24 – 32 foot articulated ladder, so we could put up our hurricane protection shields if it looks like Isaac is heading our way. (And it looks like Isaac is heading our way.)
You know how you can learn a lot from people who have been through something if you ask the right questions and then shut up and listen? We’ve learned a lot from people here in Pensacola who have weathered a hurricane or two. One thing is that you are a lot better off living a little bit inland and a little bit uphill. People who have the glorious waterfront houses are hit hard by hurricanes, and the resulting surges, and Lord have mercy, al the flooding and rain and high winds.
Another thing we have learned is that there is a difference between a hit and a direct hit. There can be some areas, right next to other areas, which suffer more damage and some areas that suffer less. While I don’t feel at all right about praying that the hardships hit somewhere else, I am praying that Pensacola be spared. Pensacola has been hard hit by hurricanes in the past, and by the economic downturn. Pensacola needs a break.
So we went out this morning after water aerobics to buy an articulated ladder, but there were none the size we need. I just figure that is a sign, plus a ladder of that size must be pretty heavy, and big – another storage issue. We did buy a couple more water storage containers and non-latex plastic gloves.
We have what we hope is a safe area in the house where drinking water and peanut butter and crackers, and tuna and canned salmon and candles and self-wind combination radios/flashights are stored in preparation. We have installed hurricane protective measures, and we are hoping they work.
Studies show that people who stay actually fare better than those who go. If you stay and are able to deal quickly with some of the problems, you can forestall greater damage. There is evidently some sort of emotional factor, too, that those who go often have a lot of stress trying to get back into their homes if there has been a lot of damage.
We listen. We plan. We hope for the best. We pray. 🙂
We make it a point, as often as we can, to do our shopping during the week, because we remember what it is like when both parents are working and you have to get everything else done – grocery shopping, dry-cleaning pick up, meal preparation, laundry, etc. after work or on the week-ends.
Lowe’s and Home Depot have special hurricane trucks coming in, loaded with large storage containers for water, lots and lots and lots of bottled water, generators, flashlights, batteries, etc. This morning, the big orders were all about plywood, stacks and stacks of plywood leaving the stores, en route to guard windows.
If we are without electricity for three days in hot, humid, rainy, windy conditions, it will be the WORST for me, especially if there are mosquitos. That’s my biggest worry. I really hate being hot.
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
Every now and then a book comes along that engages me so thoroughly that I don’t even want to read another book for a while after finishing it. The Night Circus was that book for me; one of the most memorable and unique books I have read in a long time. From its much quoted opening line to the very end, I was enchanted. I loved living inside this book.
And then I got a surprise. Have you heard of Good Reads? I was introduced to Good Reads by an acquaintance, a friend-of-a-friend (whose reading I still follow on Good Reads because she introduced me to a book, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness which was one of those books that come just at a time you need them; I had another friend who was off her meds, and struggling with the highs and lows of bipolar disorder. I didn’t know how to help her. The book helped me understand what she was going through and why she would go off her meds.)
So when my friend invited me to join Good Reads I did. I had started notebook after notebook, trying to keep track of books I’ve read so I could look them up when I needed to recommend them to someone, and here was this wonderful spot where I could record the books I read and keep track of them. Even better, they send me little notes and recommend books they think I will like based on books I have rated – and their recommendations are GOOD!
So when I went to Good Reads to record The Night Circus, I ended up reading other reviews, and discovered that this is a book few are neutral about. Many people love it. There is also a strong contingent who heartily dislike it.
The people who love it, love it for the same reasons that the people who dislike it dislike it. That’s always a shock to me, no matter how experienced I become, no matter how long I live – what? Other people see through different eyes and have different opinions???
To me, The Night Circus is a very sensual book. It has layers and layers of things going on, and, as in real life, you catch glimpses, especially at the beginning, but you don’t really know how these glimpses connect. As you read through the book, the scenes and events you read about earlier start to form a more complete picture, the puzzle pieces start to come together, but you never really know how this puzzle is going to look when it is finished.
For me, each glimpse was a jewel. The Night Circus tackles the nature of existence, what is real, what is a trick of distraction, a manipulation of the laws of the universe or pure deception. It features a contest between two talented men who pit their student against one another in a very long contest.
Each page of the book has layers of textures, scents, flavors, sounds and visions, woven together with the eye of an artist. I love the aromas integrated into the circus, cinnamon caramel apples, hot spiced punch, buttery popcorn, all with elusive and intriguing undertones, scents that you can almost – but not quite – identify. I love the descriptions of the clothing, of the circus tent constructions (there were many) and the sharp discipline of a circus all done in black and white. I loved the music, and the feats of engineering that constructed some of the circus wonders. I loved the artistry of the clock, and the winter garden. I loved the magic of the breathtaking acts, and the humanity of the characters.
Some complain on Good Reads that the descriptions in The Night Circus overshadow the plot. OK. Maybe. The descriptions nourished my imagination, took me on circular routes, just as this novel does. As I read the complaints, I could see a sharp divide between those who want to accomplish, and those who are happy to enjoy the journey. The Night Circus is a journey, in the old tradition of “there is no frigate like a book,” a journey that will take you places you have never been before. Just as I feel when I return from many of our travel adventures, I miss this great exploration of the landscape put forth in The Night Circus.
Shar’a Kaharabaa Today
One of our favorite places in Doha was Shar’a Kaharabaa, Electricity Street. Bombay Silk was there. the old Beirut restaurant was there and several very good and reasonable tailors worked there. All good quilters knew the Mumtaz Tailor, who had every notion in the world, and good prices, and knew where everything could be found in the chaos of his shop. You could always find parking.
I dared to take a look at Sharia Kharabaa this morning, and I shouldn’t have. It’s that bare spot middle left. Al Rayyan, at the top of the photo, leads to the Souk al Waqif. One day, the old picturesque Sharia Kharabaa is supposed to be a grand walk way to the Souq.
“Baba, You Are A Terrible Driver!”
Our tiny terror, the Happy Toddler, is at that developmental stage where he says “No” even if it is something he wants to do, he says he doesn’t like things he loves and he is just compelled to be contrary. It is exasperating, and it is also hilarious.
Yesterday he dropped his favorite train as he and AdventureMan were on the long bridge en route back to the beach, and yelled for “Baba” to help him with his train.
“I can’t stop now; we’re on a bridge!” AdventureMan explained.
“I want a red light! I want a red light!” the Screeching Toddler shouted, knowing that red lights mean stop, and that a stop would mean his Baba might reach the train and return it to him.
“We’re on a bridge! There are no red lights!” AdventureMan explained again.
“Baba, you are a terrible driver!” Angry Toddler said.
When they finally reached a red light and AdventureMan rescued the train and restored it to the Terrible Two and a Half Toddler, everything was right again.
“Am I still a terrible driver?” AdventureMan asked him.
“No Baba, you are a GOOD driver!” the Happy Toddler grinned.
Gulfarium in Fort Walton Beach
It’s going to be a rainy morning, but not a problem – we’re going to the Gulfarium in Fort Walton Beach. It’s expensive – even with our senior discount our tickets are $18.95 EACH! But the happy toddler is under three, so he goes in free.
Feeding the Manta Rays:
Feeding the penguins:
Feeding the Turtle:
Gulfarium Bayou Area:
Heron:
After visiting the Gulfarium we left, just as the clouds broke open and deluged us. We took refuge at Big Daddy’s BBQ and Thai Food which serves a large and happy population at Hurlburt Field and Eglin AFB. We had seen the funky looking place every time we take Highway 98, but this is our first time stopping there. It was a great stop on a very rainy day – the food was hot and tasty; the restaurant low key, and fine with children. They had lots to choose from, a buffet or you could order off the menu.
We get back to our beach place just in time for naps – all of us! Taking care of a 2 1/2 year old is exhausting! By the time we get up, the sun is shining, the surf is up and it’s beach time!
Views from Pensacola Beach
We have the Happy Toddler at the beach this week, and we are having so much fun. The weather is changeable – we have sunshine every day, but most days we might also have a couple minutes to a half hour of pouring rain.
Yesterday, AdventureMan grumbled “There is nothing I love more than being all wet and needing to run the car air conditioning because it is also hot and sticky!” Being damp and cold is miserable, only slightly less miserable than being damp and hot and sticky . . .
Most of the time, the sun is shining. Yesterday, the surf was up, bringing a treasure of seashells and depositing them on the beach and giving us some scary waves to jump – scary if you are a two and a half year old; those waves look BIG, scary if you are a grandmother and don’t want to watch your daring little grandson be washed away!
Some of the wonderful nearing-sunset blues I love so much:
And a picture of the little boy we love so much:
Hemingway and A Movable Feast
After reading The Paris Wife, I had to read Hemingway’s A Movable Feast. I wanted to see how he saw his Paris years, and how his version integrated with the fiction version of Hadley’s. I was prepared to not like the book.
I was not prepared to like it as much as I did. Hemingway writes of the years when he was young, newly married and wildly happy, living a stimulating and lively life with lively friends. They were poor, but he was following his dream. They had a lot of fun.
Hemingway wrote this book, full of stories of their Paris life, full of names you know – Ezra Pound, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Picasso, Closerie des Lilas, Les Deux Magots, Brasserie Lipp, the Louvre . . . and as you read it, you are there. He writes in the moment; you are right there experiencing it along with him. He writes of people he likes, and people he doesn’t like. He writes about his own vices – an addiction to horse racing, for example – and he writes with enormous sadness about how he came to be distracted from his marriage and lost the most wonderful relationship that ever happened to him. He blames it on the careless rich. He takes some responsibility.
He also writes very frankly and openly about people he doesn’t like and why. I couldn’t help but think it is a heady thing, being an acclaimed author, where you can take revenge by putting people you dislike in your books. Hemingway uses real names and real people and often portrays them in a distinctly unflattering light. It made me wonder if he was planning to commit suicide all along; that or he just didn’t care what people think, and it seems he might have been the kind just not to care.
Just after finishing this book, and talking one last time with his first wife, Hadly, Hemingway committed suicide. It leaves me wondering if he was driven to suicide by regret, or by fears that his bigger-than-life life of adventure, travel, high life and travel was over, or if he had serious bouts of depression all his life, and this was just another, deeper depression?
It is a great read, especially paired with Paula McLain’s book, The Paris Wife. I thought it might be “he said – she said,” but Hemingway and the fictional Hadley in The Paris Wife both agree that they had a love and marriage that was very special, that Paris was a wonderful stimulating, alive environment, and that it was a great tragedy when the marriage ended. A Movable Feast seems to say that destroying his marriage to Hadley was one of a cocktail of self-destructive behaviors over which he tried to ride herd (gambling on the horse races, drinking, drugs, a coterie of star-struck sex partners outside of marriage, inability to focus on his work, a curmudgeonly nature . . .)
It’s also an easy read. I particularly enjoyed reading it on the iPad because you can do that swirly-finger-thing and find out what words mean or see the street locations as he walks Paris, see whether a cafe or restaurant in Paris still exist. It would be a good airline read – keeps your attention and finishes quickly.
As little as I like Woody Allen, it was fun to see Midnight in Paris, and to have some visuals of this go-go inter-war era.
Two things that stuck out for me: Hemingway loved walking in Paris, as do I. He also talks here and there about the benefits of being hungry. There were times when money was tight; they wore old shabby clothes, and there were times they didn’t have much food. He talks about hunger sharpening your other senses. On the other hand, very quickly when he has money, he has a great meal and a drink – or two – or three.
Bottom line, I’m glad I read this book. It’s given me a lot to think about.
Rain for Ramadan
Frequent commenter Daggero asked for photos of clouds and rain to help him get through the long hot days of Ramadan in Kuwait. Yesterday I published cloud photos; today we had a downpour, so here are some rain photos:
First thing I learned is that it’s not that easy to shoot rain drops. You have to shoot them against a darker background, and you have to shoot them at a slower speed, else you don’t see them at all.
This was great exercise. Now I want to go to Paris in November for more practice. Paris gets lots of rain in November, fewer tourists, it’s more the real Paris. It would also be great for shooting in black and white, people holding umbrellas, bent against the wind-driven rain, great architectural and textured backgrounds . . . 🙂
A Swallowtail is Born
“Come down! Come down!” AdventureMan is calling me from the garden, and I can tell it is something special.
“Look! He just came out of the chrysalis! He’s still wet!”
It is a beautiful new swallowtail butterfly. When the eggs are laid – it takes a mere second, a mere brush-by as the tiny egg is placed on the fennel – they are a mere 1/32 of an inch, you can barely see them with your bare eyes.
It is 78° in the cool of the morning, the best part of the day. The sun is coming up, and a new swallowtail is drying off, preparing to fly away to a new life.
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