arachne's Musings

The first day of the rest of July

2008-12-25T19:11:00Z

Thing #1 to be ecstatic about today: the dress has shipped. AND it should be here tomorrow. AND it of course will be divinely perfect. A swath of ambrosia with a smattering of joyful deity tears, and/or corset lacing and inventive ruching. I am hopeful its sure glory will outshine the dark haze of panic surrounding the traumatic imprisonment episode that was the last dress. I still shudder at the thought of it, sweat and tears streaming over everything, the scissors menacingly sweet in their temptation to aid... all was overcome in the end with no lasting harm to merchandise or victim, but it does leave one open to trepidation and self-doubt.

Thing #2 that fills me with glee: I have acquired a new (old) red stapler. Saddened that it means the departure of the almost-always amusing PKK, but confident that the wear and tear will live on happily in new surroundings. MY surroundings. I love my stapler.

Thing #3: I had the best sleep of the week, passed out blissfully on the cool bamboo floor of the just-heated-enough yoga room at the gym, even after a slightly odd and judgmental class (teacher, thus the oddity). So sated. I feel om-ified. I could sleep again.

Skin Salvation, Thy Name is Viozena

2008-12-25T19:10:00Z

So a few months back, I happened upon this lovely little soap shop in Seattle (well, okay, "happened upon" sounds more serendipitous, when in fact I work right upstairs and it's been there forever and I've doubtless walked by it hundreds of times by now). In any case, I was drawn in by the allure of the window display with the Betty Boop figurine bending "innocently" in front of the really jolly Buddha candle, and entered a world of perfumes and lotions and candles and soapy goodness. Not the eye-watering, can't make it down the aisle without sneezing kind of goodness, but the honestly delightful I want to put all of it on me kind of stock of goodies.

So my eye is caught by magical serum in a little blue bottle, Viozena, amazingly potent and healthy wonder-juice for skin repair. I get the demo and the spritz and can see the difference on the shop-keeper's hands (well one, which he has donated to the cause, and the other, which for comparison's sake remains envious). I snatch it up for my hunny thinking he'll be super stoked about it (true), and then I can't stop using it myself--proactive skin repair I say... a little spray and I'm moist for the day! My skin keeps thanking me by being all shiny and compliant and pleasant to be around.

Since he likes it so much, we have become a 2 viozena household (well, three if you count the almost empty bottle)--now we have the super heavy-duty serum and the lighter spray. The serum worked some overnight delight on my cracked lip the other day, and a nasty burn evaporated into no scar tissue after light application. I'd say I'm sold, but I was already sold. I just keep winning!

Check it out: http://www.vashonorganics.com/CategoryProductList.jsp?cat=Shop+By+Brand%3AViozena

Oh the Dress!

2008-12-25T19:09:00Z

It has arrived.

And dare I say, it's perfect. (Well, as perfect as I can tell in the unlaced, softly-lit, giddy that it's here kind of way...)

It has beads. ("Ooooo-hoo-hooo! Beads!" I too can make a lovely dress for Cinderelly.) Not awful clumpy beads, but nicely placed scattering of glassy bits, interesting details, lots of wrinkles (but of course, it came in a wee box) and it will steam nicely... Now to get some SHOES! I think I will be alteration-free at this point (hurrah!) and I can get by with a low heel (all the better for walking on the grass with ha. ha. ha.). I just have to find some that aren't entirely showgirlish.

Also, I'm thinking that Pilates, every day, maybe thrice a day, will be critical for this dressy adventure... well okay, it's not super poofy and I didn't have the corset part laced up, but it is certainly good motivation to work off the overbite and the shadow of the chublet... these things can only be amplified by the white, right? And it is rather mermaidy too, so anything that makes the hips less hippy? Oh the gym is my favorite plaaaace to beeeee...

In any case, after looking at mules and slides and pumps galore, I've (hopefully) settled on some fun slide-mule-pumps (or slumlumps as I like to think of them) from kenneth cole unlisted... they have big satin flowers on them and they don't look like they'll ever grace the slippery side of a pole, so I think they'll do the job appropriately (provided they fit of course). my mom will love them. she will ooo and ahhh. Sold.

Now to start obsessing about pedicures...

Book Review: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly--Jean-Dominique Bauby

2008-12-25T19:08:00Z

Since I've long been such an avid reader (luster after books-er), it's time I start writing about them, perhaps sharing what I've learned, or at least spoiling a good thing or two (or not) for anyone else who cares (or doesn't). In any case, I'll start with the best--and coincidentally latest--book I've finished this month: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby, former editor of the French version of Elle.

The gist: Famous editor of famous French magazine suffers a sudden stroke in his early 40s and ends up in a coma, then in a condition known as "locked-in" where he is still fully mentally functional but is nearly completely paralyzed... all he can move, in fact (at least at first), is one eye, with which he develops a means of communication with friends, family, and any doctors patient enough to learn and participate... and through this communication, he dictates a beautiful memoir of his life, his thoughts and dreams, and his reaction to his sudden and inevitably fatal condition.

Beyond just looking at this as a remarkable piece of observatory writing, full of longing, resignation, frustration, sadness, and humor, I was struck by the sheer expression of will that creating this book entailed, the capacity of the human mind to solidify thoughts, structure, emotion, phrasing, to dwell in memories and extract life from them, the patience in transcribing such rich detail from just the blink of an eye to capture the world of a man whose world has locked him inside his own body. I admit it, I cried more than once... both from experiencing the sadness of being misunderstood, the frustration of not being able to express oneself, the pain of watching others react in varying levels of discomfort, anger, and fear, and from the realization of how this story came to be.

Inspiring, yes--would I in the same situation be able to handle it in the same way? Would I give up and expire without attempting to reach outside of myself? How many other people are withering away in silence because the outside world doesn't view them as capable or responsive anymore? What opportunities have I missed in assuming someone wouldn't understand me? I remember someone (maybe my grandma?) once telling me that her mind didn't change or feel different than it had when she was a youth--it was just the body that became limited, and the mind was just as active and eager as ever, only frustrated at not being able to act on its own whims in the same way.

What impressed me sharply about this book, other than wanting to make the most of every day and fill it with learning and memories and life, was the depth of the characters surrounding Bauby, how they changed (or didn't change) in reaction to him, how his inability to respond to them changed their perception of him, and how he both fought and agonized over it and came to find peace with his inability to do more. Acceptance of others' reactions, acceptance of their fear, understanding.

This is a beautiful book, a quick read sure, but one that can be lingered over thoughtfully. Highly recommended.

Check it out on Amazon here.

Book Review: White Night (a novel of The Dresden Files)--by Jim Butcher

2008-12-25T19:07:00Z

Okay, I admit that I picked this one up because of the quote on the cover (which I assume is precisely the reason they put such quotes on the cover), which stated something akin to "Think Buffy the Vampire Slayer starring Phillip Marlowe"--and of course summoning two of my all-time favorites in one fell swoop... well that was enough to overlook the less-than-stellar impression that the SciFi show bearing the series name left on me. (okay, it wasn't a horrid show or anything, but I'm a Buffy-aholic, so my otherworldy entertainment bar is set pretty high... and also, Dresden is way taller in book life.)

The gist: Chicago's leading wizard-slash-private *** Harry Dresden is trying to unravel the mystery behind the string of apparent suicides of seemingly unrelated women, who it turns out are all murdered by one kind of vampire or another (apparently there are three kinds in the White Court, plus the warring Red Court, and who knows what else) and all belong to the same Wiccan support group... and wait, there's more... Harry's brother, the ravishing (I have to say that, it's kind of chicklit-ish) Thomas--a White Court vamp of the Raith family who has been growing ever more mysterious and out of touch--not only has a collection of illegal firearms and pre-police crime scene photos of the victims, but has been seen escorting young women about only to find they go "missing" soon thereafter. Harry smells lots of rats, says a bunch of smart-ass things (as he says, everyone likes a wiseass, so long as they're talking to someone else), nearly loses control of his temper multiple times, summons hellfire, blows up buildings, pretends to be Thomas' uber exasperated lover to get out of a sticky situation, gets shot, stabbed, exploded, and otherwise magicified, passes out a few times and dreams about New Mexico, eviscerates beastly ghouls, glares intensely at bad guys and insolently at good ones, faces off with gangsters, lusts inappropriately over his apprentice, slightly more appropriately over his ex, and definitely ill-advisedly over a seduction-prone vampire and a seduction-prone demon shade living in his brain... and has time for playing with his pets and ribbing his buddy about being inexperienced in the ways of love.

The next day... (ha! you snort, but the timeline is pretty short for the amount of stuff that gets utterly demolished). Enjoyable? Yes. Heart-pounding? Once or twice. Humor-filled? Indubitably. Wildly inappropriate? Only on occasion. This was a relaxing read, gripping enough to be captivating, funny enough to keep me guessing, laughing from time to time, and every so often re-reading sections to make sure I was catching all of the joke. I probably wouldn't read it twice, but it was fun, and I'd likely read something else in the series. Good characters (though with the sense that this was not the first book and much of the history was spelled out elsewhere... like there's no introduction of Bob the Skull other than that his name is Bob and he's a skull, and apparently a disembodied horndog), good twists (or at least some "oh right, we have magic so we can do this" deux a machina moments), and a good pace--though near the end, even I could see that sometimes it's okay not to be a wiseass, but that some people can't seem to control themselves no matter the oh-so-obvious consequences. Lesson learned: Sometimes being lippy and witty just sounds immature, even if it feels fun and/or justified. (And there's that whole lesson about how power corrupts and you shouldn't play with power unless you're doing it for the right reasons and you're afraid of it, respectfully, or you might burn holes in people's psyches, or end up in a really big cave full of really angry ghouls without your zombie dinosaur.)

Check it out on Amazon here or at the library--and beware of turtlenecks. And cowls.

Book Review: Villa Incognito--Tom Robbins

2008-12-25T19:02:00Z

I admit up front a bias, a sheer and uncontrollable infatuation with Tom Robbins' books. Jitterbug Perfume had me obsessed with beets and circular breathing. Still Life with Woodpecker made me long to die my hair and smoke Camel cigarettes while dreaming of pyramid adventures. And perhaps my favorite of all time, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates, awakened the desire to travel deep into rainforests, experiment with mind-opening psychotropic substances, and walk on stilts around a desert oasis nunnery while making jokes about papayas.

Villa Incognito too has its charms, full of intriguing descriptions of Bangkok, the wiles of tanukis and foxes, the longing to expatriate to get some perspective, and the beautiful glamour of aerialists in the circus. Alas, it did not sway my stance on mayonnaise one ioda, nor did it make me want to revisit clownish obsessions or start describing seasons with cutesy emotions.

In a nutshell, it recounts the story of three Vietnam MIAs rebuilding a life under the radar in Laos--their bonds and rifts, their adventures and loves, and the heavy burden of trying to opt out of a political structure into which you're born without the opportunity to choose. The other underlying piece of the tale is that of the otherworldly animal spirits, a pandemonium of gods and goddesses for everything imaginable, mischief and interspecies breeding, and the love of sake.

There are still some things left unresolved... and I wouldn't expect differently from a Robbins... so much of the climax of the story feels stolen, a mix of relief and sadness and tension, and it leaves my mind to wander to possible futures (large nut-sacked badgers included). I find a reborn desire to escape and study and choose my own path instead of following the societal norm (funny, that happens a lot with these books). And maybe I want to plant a chrysanthemum seed in my palette and see if it will grow. Or, maybe not...

In any case, there are parts of this book that I found a little to trite or hollow-silly, like an impression of Robbins wit that didn't quite hit. Living in Seattle, I'm always a little excited by mentions of grounds that I do indeed stomp, and at the same time, it always feels a wee bit too contrived (then again, maybe any readers in Laos feel the same way hearing their village towns and political structure described?). There are still passages of insightful musing and interchanges that really sum up the underlying problems of humanity. Here's one of my favorites from early on in the book, where Kitsune the fox scolds Tanuki for having been truthful with humans about his appearance/journey from the Other world:

"How could you be so naive as to hell a human being the truth? Men live by embedding themselves in ongoing systems of illusion. Religion. Patriotism. Economics. Fashion. That sort of thing. If you wish to gain the favor of the two-legged ilk, you must learn to fabricate as wholeheartedly as they do. Actually, by sabotaging their static illusions, we can sometimes help turn their stale deceptions into fresh possibilities for their race, but that's probably a mission you're neither interested in nor suited for..."

Static illusions indeed. I'm going naked from now on.

Book Review: Chocolat by Joanne Harris

2008-12-25T19:00:00Z

It's possible this is the most delectable book I've read... at least in a long, long time. "We came on the wind of the carnival..." It might be the best first line of any novel (prompting many a reading of first paragraphs to many an eager listener), followed by a story that unfolds like swirling chocolate fondant cooling and expanding and being shaped and reshaped into a delicious truffle treat that lingers in the mouth, the mind, and the heart. Vianne and Anouk come to life as wild magical creatures, full of the joy of every moment, crafting a world around them of vivid colors and tastes, flaunting their differences in the name of freedom, and weaving a spell around the small, quiet town of Lansquenet-sous-Tannes. Of course every good story has conflict, and this one comes in spades, the fear and the dark disapproval of the priest and the closed-minded locals who resist change. The shifting winds that blow trouble and discontent, and that bring complications, both of pleasure and of pain. The lives that are impacted and altered by more than just the freely flowing chocolate, but by the awakening of the senses, moving them to challenge traditions and stand up for themselves and make their voices heard.

Vianne's magic of choice is handmade chocolate, seeing into the hearts of each person via their taste buds to glean their favorites, and slowly opening the door for them to find the true magic in their own lives. Her nemesis is the local cure, Francis Reynaud, and his resistance to Vianne's influenece only covers his own secrets and longings and fears for so long. Is it the religion that is wrong or is it something more? The exclusiveness? The lack of acceptance? In their own way, Vianne and Anouk revel in their spirituality and are truer to the essence of the spirit than the doctrines and dogmas and restrictive rergimes of the church. Naturally that doesn't sit well, and with such dissent (i.e. free thinking, the evil influence of women in red dresses and river-dwelling gypsies with their communal meals and improvised music), the church can only feel its stranglehold slipping...

For all its drama, Chocolat maintains a sense of delirious wonder, innocence even, with words that melt and roll around the mouth in flavorful waves of lovely language. It's entirely devourable, and begs for indulgence. Indulgence, and chocolate, and magical totem bunnies, and mendiants, and candied oranges, and sugar mouses, and cafe au chocolat, and silky red underthings, and sheer joy of life. Try it, taste it!

Book Review: The Alchemyst, The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel--Michael Scott

2008-12-25T18:58:00Z

I admit to a certain fascination with stories about magical studies, ancient deities or powerful beings with mystical powers, alchemical manipulation, and of course rare books. When I saw this book advertised and accoladed, flush with mysterious immortals and martial arts trained otherworldlings, I had to pick it up. Despite being more of a teen read than I'd expected (the main characters are just learning to drive and have their first jobs in coffee shops and bookstores), the imagery is rich and interesting and the story moves along quickly, exploring new ideas and bringing unexpected characters to life. It is a bit predictable in places, especially the drama between the two main characters (Sophie and Josh Newman, non-identical twins separated by just a few minutes) and their lack of relationship with their parents, but it kept me more engaged than I'd expected and didn't disappoint (other than not wrapping up within one book, such that I have to wait for an as yet indeterminate amount of time for a sequel, or the second in the trilogy, to appear--I don't know whether I was ready to commit to a three-parter from the outset, and now that I'm in it, I pretty much have to finish...). Of course, it's no His Dark Materials, but it will do.

The subject of Nicholas Flamel is an interesting one, and there are aspects of this legend woven throughout many a modern magical tale, from Harry Potter's sorceror's stone to the ancient texts and magicks discovered and studied in The City Of Dreaming Books. If anything, this book has made me more aware of the essences of people, the auras and flavors and energies of each of us... that and a reminder of that abiding distrust of crows... that Morrigan with her army of Dire Crows is one scary tale I don't want to get tangled with...

Overall, interesting read, probably more awe-inspiring for a younger reader who has not already been completely indoctrinated in the ways of Tolkein and Moers and Pullman and Rucker and all the rest of my favorite fantastical writers... and even if not awe, amusement and excitement for all! Now to wait for the second installment...

Book Review: Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

2008-12-25T18:57:00Z

Well, I caved. I bent to peer pressure and finally agreed to read this book, even though my Buffy-honed sense of the rights and wrongs in paranormal reality were irked by the idea of sparkly vampires who may or may not have reflections... even though my marketing-immune tastebuds roiled at the overkill these "cult books" were spewing at the local B&N, booksignings aplenty, raving teen fandom, the world's best publicist, and the insipid movie trailers... even though my coworkers pined and groaned and swooned all about me, with Edward this and Edward that and siiiiiigh Edward... I finally just said OKAY I will give it a chance, poor writing style and all... I can only expect so much from the teen lit anyway, and this one has many people mooning over it whom I would typically not think of as mooners.

So having borrowed it from one such Edward-drooling, adamant Twilight supporter, I dove in, fearful that any tentative approach would give me too much of an excuse to lose interest and drift to something more compelling. The Forks angle appealed to me, having spent my formative adolescent years on the Olympic Peninsula, and I read first for any indication of places I'd been (check) and people I'd known (of course not, it's fiction). Part of me yearned for the green forests and the hiking trails through the Olympics. Part of me remembered all too well going to such a small high school and having such limited entertainment options. What I don't recall is being in school with vampires. Then again, I may have been a little too dense at the time, and come to think of it, there were some tight-knit families with odd habits and a distinct odor that lived way out in the woods...

Those musings got me through the first 120 pages or so, despite the somewhat irksome teen melodrama and the occasional typo. It did read a bit like a Babysitters Club diary, but it was growing on me. And then, without any warning, it had me. The story gripped me in its vice-like claw and I was transfixed, wanting to read more about the ancient La Push tales of the cold ones or following in earnest the angst and jubilation of the romantic tension between Bella and Edward. Alright, some of it was predictable, and some silly, but there were real emotions there, grabbing hold and making me eager for more. Who wouldn't have such heart palpitations being a human so precariously place in the trust of a vampire, be he soulless or soulful (since that wasn't really explained). The dangers felt palpable, the excitement made me giddy. I flushed at their tense kisses and shivered at their cool embraces. And I really wanted a bitchin old truck!

So you know how the story goes--girl meets boy, girl finds out boy is vampire, girl obsesses over boy, girl is constantly put in danger by association with boy (and her own nearly inhuman klutziness), boy saves girl, boy loves girl but cannot risk putting her in danger, boy says so what! let's get dangerous! etc etc. Then when badness comes to town, there's this great conflict between the good-wanting vamps and the blood-wanting vamps, and then the hunt is on, and the pulse quickens. Alas, the fast pace of the almost end of the book holds out for too short a time... compelling, yes, but over too soon.

And that leaves us with the last bit of sappy exposition, whereupon the tale takes a turn that decidedly grates my cheddar. Our fair heroine, daft as she may be sometimes, begins to romanticize about becoming a vampire. And not just that, begins to WHINE about it when she's not offered the opportunity. I mean REALLY. This is a book for young adults? Something that says, oh hey, you don't have to go through a difficult existence of not fitting in, growing up, making uncomfortable choices... you can just become a monster, and you'll be perfect and young and beautiful and rich beyond your wildest dream--eternally! Also, you can whine and pout and get your way. Gah! it may have annoyed me a bit. More than a bit. Something that actually intrigued me, then repulsed me. I set the book down without reading the sneak preview first chapter of the next book in the series.

....for about 3 days. And I was somewhat disappointed, I'll admit, due in no small part to the tedious recapping of the last book in a way that is supposed to be casual but clearly tries too hard and ends up awkward. I say "hey, of course I remember that, it was just 40 pages ago" in irritation.

Now, only a week or so later, I'm halfway through the second book. What can I say? There's already something gripping in it for me, and while it's still semi-predictable, it's a fun read. I even like Jacob now, when I swore I would resist when I had a hint of what was coming. Sigh. I guess I'm done for. I'm going to see the movie, I'll probably read all four books, but I draw the line at making Team Edward tee-shirts for the marathon. Seriously.

Book Review: The Invention of Everything Else--Samantha Hunt

2008-12-25T18:56:00Z

It's not often that I find a novel with such beautiful depth and historical wonder that reading it is a learning experience and a spell-binding adventure. I've always been fascinated with Nikola Tesla (and okay, with pigeons and time travel too), so this book was a fantastic illumination of a mysterious figure that already pulls at my imagination. While embracing the eccentricities and brilliance of Tesla's genius, it also tells a sparkling and haunting love story, or rather several love stories... the reminisces of Louisa's father of falling in love with his darling Frankie, and seeing her through to the tragic end, death in childbirth... the father and daughter bond shared by Louisa and her dad, and their natural rhythm of caring for each other, and seeing past each other's oddities and flaws to find the true companion... of the blossoming affection between Louisa and the well-timed Arthur... Niko's love for his brother, his tumultuous and enthralling relationship with Katherine and her husband, and his connection with a pigeon perched on Goethe's head...

The story follows several threads, the primary one of Louisa, a chambermaid at the Hotel New Yorker, where Tesla is a reclusive resident. She happens upon his room and is dazzled by what she sees, experiments he's been working on during his stay, past his prime but still brilliant, alone, no longer entirely sane, completely given to his quirks and fears. As Louisa reads his memoirs (penned by a certain Sam Clemmons) we travel back in time to see the struggle of creative genius and capitalist ego, the fear of connecting with other people and the pull of self-absorption... a gripping insight into the mind and life of Nikola Tesla.

At the same time, Louisa is helping her father deal with his grief that is pulling him further into the past, while his friend Azor, who may or may not be entirely crazy, speaks of travel to the future, a time machine built from instructions in Popular Mechanics magazines, and Louisa's future betrothal to the elusive Arthur. There's also the romance of radio and electricity, it's power to change the course of a city, and the whole world, waking up to light and power.

This story struck a lot of chords with me--one in particular was the hesitancy of Niko to open to other people while remaining loyally married to his inventions. Another was the way relating to birds seemed to spring more insights than relating to humans... but I digress. This is a joyous book, full of inspiration and hope and melancholy and acceptance that sometimes the struggle to be recognized is not worth hindering the creative flow.