What Inspires: Lists

Last night, on a whim—and desire not to waste a National holiday off—we flew to Bali and checked into Kayana Villas. It was past midnight and raining when we arrived. It’s the rainy season, so we weren’t surprised by the rain; we brought books, computers, cards, etc. but we were hoping for sunshine. Several times during the night and this morning I woke to the sound of rushing water. Believing it was still raining—pouring—I rolled over and buried my head.

Curtis finally managed to coax me to breakfast. Surprise! Surprise! The big floodlight in the sky was shining full beam. The rushing water/rain sound was the waterfall flowing into our private pool. Hurrah! Over breakfast (huevos rancheros ala Kayana are indescribably “enak” delicious!) we formulated a plan for the day. First item: Pool Time!

A trip or two back, Lexi, my extremely organized daughter, had shared her Trip Packing List with me. She keeps it on her phone, viewable at a touch. Would that I had used it when I was pulling things together for this trip…

I’m a heavy packer. My motto is: if you might need it, bring it! But this trip… this trip we are under serious weight restrictions: only 15 kg each. No exceptions. No paying extra for more. From Bali we’re flying to Moyo, a tiny island off the coast— in a seaplane! Anything over our weight allowance would have to be abandoned at the gate. So I packed predently; changed suitcases to flimsy light-weight duffles; took out all but one pair of shoes, two suits, one book,  two bottles of sparkles.  In the end, even with the restrictions I managed to bring almost everything I needed. Almost…

See this glorious picture of the pool, the trickling waterfall hidden behind the curtain of green, those inviting, empty lounge chairs?

Kayana Villa Pool: What's Missing From this Photo?

Me!

Ask yourself: What are the most important items to bring on a tropical island holiday?

Yes, I brought sunscreen-3 kinds!

But, I forgot the most, absolutely most important 3 items: my hat, my sunglasses and my lipstick. Anyone who knows me knows, I do not sit in the sun without my hat, my sunglasses and especially my lipstick (Like Queen E, I am never, never, never am without my lipstick). FYI: Shops in Jakarta Airport Domestic Terminal do not sell lipstick, chapstick, gloss or Crisco.

Curtis & The Computers: Safe in the Shade

So, instead of basking in the sun I’m sitting in the shade typing and thinking I need to add 2 New 2012 Resolutions:

#1  MAKE AND MAINTAIN LISTS

# 2 USE THY LISTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ENOUGH TO HAVE A LIST; YOU HAVE TO USE IT!

What Inspires: Chicken Scratch

I walked away from a post-holidays “debate” with my sis-in-law, Joanne,  with chicken scratch on my mind.

Joanne, a Special-Ed teacher,  maintains that learning cursive isn’t important anymore, and furthermore, that future generations may not write at all. Not to say they won’t comunicate. They may well communicate faster, more easily,  and on more advanced levels. Instead of writing, they’ll dictate and a machine will respond accordingly and/or transcribe if needed;  non-verbal folks will type and the machine will speak. Wha-Lah: Communication!

This might well be the way of the future. But…but…but… BAWWWWWWK!

Recent arguments about how practicing and learning writing is as important t0 brain development as going through the “crawling stage” and learning to skip aside, I can’t stop thinking about what will be lost if people stop writing?

I keep a box of cards and letters; my mother has one; my grandfather did, too.  (I type, “did” because my grandmother burned my grandfather’s, along with his family photos, shortly after his funeral (will we ever know why???)

When my grandmother died, I found hers, too. I didn’t burn it; I was embarrassed by it, though, and delighted and saddened and mortified to discover “brilliant” Mini-me thought “Boston” was spelled “Boaston” and  my teacher, Mr. Tweet, may well have had legitimate cause for giving me a C- in 5th grade penmanship (which crushed me and kept me from making the Honor Roll)

I was touched and thrilled  to discover my grandmother kept those cards and letters–if for no other reason that that I get to read them, touch them, smell them. . . . An exchange of molecules takes place during the process of “penning a note” which adds a different twist to the term “give something of yourself.” During the process of writing the note we transfer piece of ourselves to the paper.  Unlike carbon dating, human residue on hand-written card, notes, letter—recipes—don’t lessen by halves,  it becomes more precious.  (Any historic, cultural, kitsch value of the card is another discussion entirely.)

This holiday season, just as I have other holidays, I pulled out my raggedy recipe accordion folder and riffled through recipes. One Christmas eons ago (when my mother had more time and imagination than funding) she created a recipe file for my grandmother and herself. She typed “favorite” recipes on index cards and decorated them with doodles and comments. I relish those recipe cards. They whisk me back to when Mom was younger, energetic, and willing to spend the time on handmade gifts. As cheesy as many of them are, I love looking at them. They always make me smile and remember, as does “Aunt Margie’s Sheet Cake,” Grandma Lee’s “Noodle Koogle” and my grandmother’s “Never-fail Pie Crust.” (And dang if those pre low-fat, low-butter, low-calorie, low-sugar, high-nutrition recipes aren’t dang tasty!)

This holiday season, I received a piddly pile of cards—which I saved to savor after the rush and beyond as they will be duly read, then stored in my memory box. The bulk of my holiday greetings and post-holiday thank you notes arrived via email. And though I read and enjoyed them, I didn’t—even when I could have—print them out to save. I may save an e-mail note or card in Outlook, I rarely print one with the purpose of saving it. Those I do print rest in a wicker basket which bears a striking resemblance to the recycle basket.  Even in my wildest imaginings, I can not make myself believe a time will come when scent, skin, bone, tears, smudges, molecules can travel through the Internet, to the satellite and fiber optic cable, squish out the printer. (At least old-fashioned “dittos” smelled good–Oooh! Ooohh! I’ll run  off the copies for you, Mrs. Hsang…can I? Please, oh pretty please?????)

In a lecture on non-fiction at Vermont College of Fine Art last year, Diane Stanley shared how she researched her books.c She shared that judging from the volume, frequency, and immediacy of correspondence, communication in London during Charles Dickens time was almost as fast as today. As a result, volumes of his thoughts, ideas, musings, menus, gripes—in his own words—are read, enjoyed, studied, perused, evaluated, analyzed, synthesized, idolized, etc. etc. by scholars today.  With e-mail notes, sms, cards, tweets, etc. stand the same test?

AAMOF, 404!

Scribble on…BAWWWWWWK!

Our housekeeper, Rusnati's, recipe book--a combination of chicken scratch & magazine finds pasted onto the pages of an outdated manual --now that's recycling!

What Inspires: A Clean Slate
Happy 2012 to us all.

Our new calendars are open and flipped to bright, new, blank pages. Along with all those other resolutions, let’s save space for creative moments, deep jolly belly rolls,  and personal fulfillment!

For my part, I’ll keep seeking tidbits that inspire me and promise to share them here in hopes they’ll inspire you, too.

As the song goes: “It’s a new dawn/It’s a new day…” add to that It’s a new year!

Great niece, Adelaide Smith, a bright shining new mind--what could be more inspiriing?