An ode to dyslexia

When I was at Navy Pier we saw this statue.  Which I think is pretty cool, but we basically decided was a statue about what dyslexia feels like.  I can't claim to actually have dyslexia myself (though sometimes you'd think it, what with all the mixed-up talking and the left/right issues I have, as I've said before, haha), but I like to think about words in different ways.  Why write letters in a row?  Why not stack them all up in colorful statue?  Exactly.  Sometimes art is awesome.  The end.



Spring hath sprung!

For some people, spring means flowers and birds and other happy things.  That sounds good.  I mean, those are spring-like things.  There's this bird that has it out for me and chirps outside of my bedroom window starting at 3:30 am (my family argues that it could be different birds, but I know better.  It's one bird, and for some reason it hates me and wishes me great harm.  It accomplishes this great harm by chirping SO LOUDLY that not even a pillow over my ear blocks out the sound entirely.  True story), so trust me, I'm getting well acquainted with every aspect of spring, but to me spring is about other things.

For one, weather (which admittedly leads to things like flowers and such, but if it's still snowing, it doesn't matter if the 20th has come or not, it just doesn't feel like spring until the warmth arrives).  I love when the crocuses decide it's warm enough and pop up.  When I can finally sleep with the windows open again.  When I feel like I'm getting a sunburn just by sitting on the back porch.  In the spring we have supper outside nearly every evening, which is swell.  Also, on Saturday we have breakfasts outside.  And most lunches.  Anyhow, yeah, many meals outside.

So, besides the weather and all of the holidays (Dr. Seuss's birthday, Pi Day, St. Patrick's birthday, the Ides of March, first day of spring, etc.) there's one other thing that signals spring.  That is... Reuben Sandwiches.  I love Reubens.  Which is odd, because I think rye bread is gross.  Ditto Swiss cheese.  Also, most things on a Reuben.  But I LOVE Reubens and was so excited when we had our first Reubens of the year.  And when I say "first of the year," I mean that we have them about three times a spring.  Mmm.



Slightly burnt Reuben with a side of fresh tomato.  DELISH.



We had our Reubens on the first day of spring, actually, and I could pretend it was a happy spring celebration, but really, we just happened to eat them on Tuesday.  Spring just happened to start on that day.  After supper we were going to go to our local ice cream place, because they were giving away free ice cream in honor of the first day of spring, so after supper (and after my dad showed me how to charge up the car battery--it had died and my sister and I just sort of pushed it out of the way until my dad could come home to show me how to fix it next time) we piled in the car (the newly charged battery getting a chance to feel useful) and went down to the ice cream place, only to discover that about 100 people had thought of it before we did.  So... we came home.  And made our own crushed ice creations.  Basically we crushed up ice and put on random flavors (lemon, vanilla, cherry, lime, any other flavors we could find) and ate it.  We had some misses (the almond was gross) and some hits (lime.  mmm), and in general had an amusing time standing about in the kitchen flavoring cups of ice.

Our array of flavors.  Also, my family.

We were going to have leftover pie from Pi Day celebration times at eating meeting on Lord's Day, but we forgot.  Also, we were full of Reubens and... ice.

Oh, spring.  How do I love thee.  Thee minus that bird who hates me, but you know what I mean.

PS  I see, thanks to the Google Doodle of the day, that today is Juan Gris's birthday.  If you all recall, he was the one who made me realize that I was okay with Cubism after all.  So happy birthday, Juan.  Thank you for expanding my horizons.

Airborne hogs

Pigs flew last week.  Honestly they did.  Just in our own household there were two reasons that caused that old proverb about pigs flying come true.

First.  Our family got *drum roll, please!* Air Conditioning!  If I knew how to make the font all glittery and do a little dance, I would.  My parents have notoriously held out on getting A/C because we like fresh air and such.  But over the summer as the temperature climbed to the high 90s with at least one brief foray into the double digits, and the humidity topped 100% more than once, it was just... not a fun summer to rely upon the power of fans and fresh summer breezes.

So.  We have A/C.

Second piece of mind-blowing news.  I discovered a piece of Cubist art that I liked!  WHAT?  After years of shuddering at the very name Picasso (we were once going to name a cat Picasso and my brother and I vetoed it in favor of Billy Josephus because we couldn't stand to have a Picasso in the house), I found an artist whose work not only could I stomach, but enjoy.

Yes, please.  Take your time.  Let it sink in.  I said it:  I enjoyed the art.

Wow.  It's hard to even write.

Anyhow, Juan Gris is the artist who turned my anti-Cubism work upside-down.  Not all of his stuff (I looked him up after I came home from the museum at the which I saw some of his artwork), and in fact, the two I saw were two of my favorites of his work in general, and I certainly don't prefer a lot of his stuff.  But I saw the work called Pen and Pipe and really enjoyed it.

So.  There's that.

Also, I have a whole new level of respect for Alexander Calder.  I read a book about him once (well, sort of.  Some kids like his art and have adventures based on stuff about mobiles) and thought, meh, he's not that cool, but recently had seen a bunch of his stuff and liked it, in that "Oh goodness, I actually know what I'm looking at!" kind of way, but over the weekend when I was at the museum there was a display where you could create your own mobiles a la Calder, and it was a lot harder than it looked.  I am officially impressed with his vision.

I'm sure you all really wanted to hear about art today, right?  Ahem.  Yes.  And now I leave you to your own life.