Notes from C: February

I'm blogging from Rochester, Minn. this morning from a cozy table in Dunn Bros Coffee. I am so glad I discovered this place because it is different from all other establishments of this chain, and quite a treat. I talked with the owner the other day, and it turns out she owns both the coffee shop and the neighboring cafe, with one kitchen located in the back of Dunn Bros. This means she offers up many of the breakfast menu items from her cafe in the coffee shop as well, such as omelets, breakfast sandwiches, and creamy oatmeal - from scratch, not what you'll typically find in a coffee shop. Add a blueberry scone? I don't mind if I do!

-As I'm sure you've noticed by now with all of my recent posts about cold weather, skijoring, and luminary making: I am a child of winter. Sure I love those sunny summer days, but I thrive in the colder months when we all turn inward, in our houses, thoughts, and actions. I noted in my little traveling notebook earlier in January how the color of the sky on my way home from work reminds me of this time of intention and introspection. As I drive across the Mendota Bridge with the city scape of both Minneapolis and St. Paul laid before me, and airplanes buzzing to their hive across the river, the sky presses down, heavy with pigment, and wraps around our corner of the universe like a blanket. In the Waldorf School, where I attended from K-8 grade, students are introduced to watercolor painting in the early grades with just one color: blue. My teacher would always demonstrate a painting before we took our turn, and I can still see his paint brush releasing a cloud of blue into his water pail, those inky tendrils exploring the water until they transformed it into an opaque blue. Gradually, as we got older, we incorporated secondary colors, like yellow and red, which yield green and purple. I don't know the guiding principles behind this practice, but I can imagine that we start with blue for many of the same reasons I love the darkening sky in winter: it has a grounding, calming nature. Although winter will always have my heart, now that it's the end of February I am starting to get ready for spring, longer days and a little less excess clothing ... just have to get a few more cross-country runs in first to last me until next year!

Cross-country skiing adventures in Rochester, Minn at Quarry Hill Nature Center.

-The Academy Awards are on tonight, and as I sit in the coffee shop this morning, I've already overheard a few conversations on the topic. Have you seen all of the best picture nominees on your list? As everyone in my book club knows, I like stories that make me think (symbolism and philosophical questions without answers are my jam). When it comes to movies, I realized recently that I especially enjoy flicks that not only make me think but also remind me of my place in the universe. After all, I like to think about the stars and could spend hours watching Planet Earth. Beasts of the Southern Wild is high up on my list for that very reason. Besides the fact that it's a poignant story set in a unique location and told completely from a child's perspective, one of the themes speaks to the fact that everything in life fits together and if we offset it, the universe will break; everything is interconnected. As Hushpuppy (the 6-year-old star of the show - she's up for an Oscar!) says, "I see that I'm a little beast of a big, big universe." If you haven't seen it, rent it now (it's available at Redbox). Life of Pi is another amazing film that gives you that "little beast in a big universe" feel, quite literally. Boy lost at sea in a lifeboat with a tiger. Need I say more? Although it is definitely not a kid's film like the PG rating suggests! Rather slow and thoughtful start and most of it will go over a kid's head, except for the scary parts. The ending will really make you think about religion, truth vs. fiction, and the purpose of stories in our lives (another topic I'm a sucker for) ... but I don't want to spoil it for anyone. Just see it and then we can talk, k?

-Meet my newest indulgence: Trader Joe's Cookie Butter. Found right next to the peanut butter, it's pure gold in a jar. And if you couldn't guess from the name, it tastes like crushed cookies. Perfect on waffles, fruit, ice cream ... of if you're in our house, your finger. Yea, our first jar didn't last too long with regular finger swipes throughout the week.

-Evan and I explored the Terra Cotta Warrior exhibit with some friends at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. If you haven't had a chance to see them, mark it on your to-do list (I think the exhibit tours the country) because looking at the ancient sculptures makes you aware of the "big picture,"and I found it calming, reassuring, yet mentally stimulating. In 210-209 BC the first Emperor of China was buried in a tomb with 7,000 hand-crafted terracotta warriors (and a couple hundred horses, chariots, etc) to ensure his protection in the afterlife. Although the sheer magnitude of this project is mindblowing (and they haven't even uncovered all of the tombs yet!), what really gets me is that every single sculpture is unique. From the detail on the clothing to the hair styles and facial expressions, every one is different. The audio tour pointed out that the artists likely found their inspiration in the faces of their neighbors and family. So in a way, these warriors are more than a fantasy army for the emperor -- they represent real people from the past and their faces tell a true story. Think about it. The fabric of all of these ancient lives are here in the present day. But of course that can be said about any piece of art. Don't all artists incorporate bits of their lives and stories inspired from those around them into their work? Ah yes, here I go again reveling in the interconnectedness of the world and the never-ending "story." Somebody stop me!

-Here's a quick little shot of my work calendar the other day.

This one made me laugh. At least Evan's discarded clothes I so often grumble about aren't of the fruit-peel variety ; )

-One more winter scene coming at ya: Smoke stacks puff clouds into the air like cotton candy as the setting sun sends streaks of pink across the sky.

Sunsets in winter are always more brilliant than during warmer months, and I'm not sure if this is a scientifically proven fact or if it's just the contrast against the stark landscape that makes the sky appear that much more intense. But I like the effect, especially when you throw a smokestack into the mix, because it's "breath" has a more prominent presence in the winter and catches the light from the sunset. Hence my mental image of cotton candy clouds. I like to pretend there are dragons underground who are employed as cotton-candy makers (or cloud makers?) ... or perhaps they are chained down there against their will, forced to pollute the earth until some young hero sets out on a quest to set them free. But I digress ... (I have a fondness for children's literature, if you can't tell)


Now that the Academy Awards are now halfway over (finished this post after returning home tonight) I better hurry up and hit Publish before they announce best picture!

Here's the story behind Notes from C here.

Read past Notes from C here.

Cookie Butter photo from here. Terracotta Warriors photo from here. All other's are my own.

Young @ Heart

If you haven't yet heard the story of this amazing choir, I think it's time you head

on over to the movie store, library, or your netflix queue to treat yourself to this

heartwarming flick that will leave you with newfound appreciation for life and music.

My dad recommended this documentary to me so I knew it would be good, but I was

still surprised by the power of the film. A truly unique message that resonates through

the lyrics and tunes of some of our favorite hit songs. It is great to have these "old" voices

on center stage where the young typically stand. No one said you could stay young forever,

but these guys prove you can definitely be forever young at heart.

Puppy Love

SPOILER ALERT! Don't read this if you haven't yet read or watched "Marley and Me"!

Evan and I finally got around to watching "Marley and Me" over the weekend. Although we knew the basic plot before hitting play -- well, I did, Evan knew the entire story since he read the book last fall before the movie even came out in theaters -- we still found ourselves frequently hitting pause throughout the flick to discuss various aspects of the story developing on screen. Yes, it is just a simple tale (no pun intended!) of a family dog during the first few chapters of a couple's marriage. But Marley's humbled companionship and loyalty, even though spotted with typical "puppy behavior" throughout his adult years, made us think deeper into the role of dogs in Man's life and how much we have to learn from these creatures.

I know it was supposed to be a tear-jerker, but for some reason I couldn't quite get there... probably because I was thinking too philosophically throughout the ending. So when other viewers were drawing parallels to their own lives and pets, conjuring up old memories, and summoning the pool of tears that is apt to follow, I was in my "thinking cloud" pondering WHY it is so sad when it is time to say goodbye to a pet. Beyond the obvious grief that comes when anyone -- pet or person -- leaves our world, in the case of a pet there is something else in play.

Humans communicate through actions and body language just like our furry friends, but we also rely on spoken language to address and dissect issues and confirm and acknowledge feelings. There's a reason "I love you" has become (or perhaps always has been) the three most important words in our language. Yes, at the core actions do speak louder than words and too often these words of affirmation are used as a mask to cover actions that are never there. But can you imagine a world where the words "I love you" didn't exist? We, as humans, cling to these words for reassurance, for confirmation that in case our actions haven't always spoken truly, in case we have injured or faulted another as we are so prone to do, at the core we really do love.

But at the bed of a dying pet our need for verbal communication and affirmation of feelings goes wanting. We can tell our own "Marleys" how sorry we are, how they have become members of the family, and how much they will be missed, but the response and acknowledgement we crave confirming the reception of our words will never come; we never truly know if our message has been received.

Luckily, none of this matters in the eyes of our dogs; to them actions always speak louder than words and the pain of this sad exchange is something only the owner must endure. For dogs, a life well lived, filled with loyalty and respect, always trumps whatever words we throw their way (of course most of them understand a few words and commands, and they do respond to tone of voice). In the end our "Marleys" can teach us to become better humans with strengthened, honest actions accompanying our verbal "I love you"s; the perfect "bilingual" combination. If you don't have your own "Marley" yet, it's time to go shopping; a little "puppy love" sure can go a long way.

MAX, my "Marley"

Photos courtesy of John Pearson