Mainlining Love, Success And Happiness

I watch the TV show "Intervention." Because in a really fucked up way, I'm envious of junkies.

Like a train wreck, I find myself wanting to turn away, but can't. The show contains that good shocking element that hooks/addicts you into wanting to see more. I watch in horror and in delight as druggies snort massive quantities of white, powdery substances up their membrane shredded noses. I nod my head to the right and stare as an emaciated 120lb father, husband and former star athlete ties his arm off with a leather belt and shoots lethal poison in his veins. Each featured drug addict stumbles around. Their eyes roll into the back of their skull and their mouth gapes open. They fall to the floor in an overwhelming high. Physically they are grounded. Mentally they are flying. And looking on, I’m envious.

While part of me is saddened and disgusted by them, another part of me is left in awe. Don’t get me wrong. I'm not interested in taking drugs. And I’m not stupid enough to think that the lifestyle of a drug addict or an alcoholic is a glamorous one. In fact, most of the world has pretty much given up on them. They aren’t expected to live up to any expectations. Let me repeat that...

They aren’t expected to live up to any expectations.

Do you know how unbelievably freeing that would be?

We all want the big three in our lives - love, success and happiness. But striving to reach the big three often leads to stress, stress and more stress. We become frustrated when what we want so badly seems so difficult to reach. Days when you feel like one of those experimental lab rats that's exhausted every avenue and is trapped in an eternal maze, unable to climb over or gnaw your way through the walls. Red-eyed and white-haired, frazzled out of your mind! If only we could pop a magic pill down our throats or mainline love, success and happiness straight into our veins. If only it were that easy.

It's said that average people love being average because then nobody bothers them. And while I’ve always been someone who wants to live rather than just exist, there is something admirable about the Average Joe who is satisfied with just getting by in life. To not feel the pressures and the stresses from society. And to not even feel burdened by FEELINGS. To just feel happy and free because the weight of the world isn’t resting squarely upon his shoulders.

I know a guy that holds a two Master's Degrees, but is content working a mediocre paying shipping job in which the only hiring requirement is that you can lift 50lbs. Some would say he's wasting his life. That he's settled for less and is capable of achieving so much more. That he's in a rut, has become too comfortable and needs to break the cycle. But I say leave him alone. He's one of the happiest people I've ever met because he doesn't suffer from "Barbie Idealism" - that unhealthy mindset of wanting ourselves and our lives to be so perfect that you actually forget how to live.

So while the rest of us struggle to find the love of our life, figure out how to propel our careers to the next level, and settle for nothing short of being deliriously happy...the shipper already has it all figured out. He has a wife, a couple kids and a job that pays the bills. While this typical life isn't for everyone, it's all he needs because it's all that his soul requires to be happy. I wasn't born to be an Average Joe because my soul always has, and probably always will, require more. Although I wish I was content with the slow IV drip. Because while I sometimes feel like I carry the weight of the world across both shoulders, the shipper is hauling a mere 50lbs on just one. You can't help but be envious of that!

***NOTE***
You can also see this post featured on BrazenCareerist.com

Birthday Girl

Valerie says: I know some parents who take each of their children out of school one day annually to do something special with that child alone. The child gets to decide what they’ll do, and siblings are not invited. I love this idea. What a child learns in a day of undivided parental attention can be equally as important as anything he or she will learn in a day of conventional schooling. What that is is hard to define, but I suspect we would all benefit from spending a day (a month! a year!) attending to the indefinable in our lives.

I have my own special day – not surprisingly, my birthday. (birthday hats from firstpalette.com.) If it’s a weekday, I always take the day off. The thought of working on the one day a year I can really call my own is distasteful. (I did work on my 23rd birthday. I was clerking at Waldenbooks. I wore a tee shirt with a single right side spaghetti strap(with no brassiere, because it was expected back then), and on the flesh not covered by a strap I wrote the number 23 in glue (in my best penmanship), and then covered the glue with gold dust eye shadow. I had to work, but I celebrated as only the young and heedless can. (What WAS I doing with gold dust eye shadow in the house?!)

I knew my 2010 birthday would be low key. I was (am) still recovering from foot surgery, so there was no question of doing anything physically challenging (like Bonnie Townsend, shown here skydiving last week on her 90th birthday!). I DID want to spend it with a friend, and who better than Miss Jean, who cleared her schedule to be my substitute parent.

The night before The Big Day, I finally realized that I wanted two things: to start with the inimitable mango margarita at Tabla, and then take a train to Brooklyn, where I had many childhood birthdays. I once lived only a ten minute walk from the Brooklyn Museum (photo by ratethismuseum.com), so the plan was to have a margarita, see the Warhol and fashion shows at the Museum, stop briefly at the Botanical Gardens (photo liachang.wordpress.com), and make our way back to Manhattan.

(Jean says: As Valerie's birthday approached and she didn't have her usual battle plan, I began to get jumpy. I quizzed and coaxed and was positively thrilled and relieved when she finally made up her mind and picked stuff I really wanted to do too.)

When we arrived at Tabla and ordered our drinks, our adorable waitress asked us why the hats. Jean responded that they were in honor of my birthday. (Really, we wear hats just because, but birthdays are more plausible when one is quizzed for a reason.) This was great strategy on Jean’s part, because our waitress brought us a birthday gift of two miniature watermelon mojitos to try. (Jean says: Tabla's mango margaritas are frozen with a Slurpee-like consistency and a vibrant orange color. Since they are "seasonal", we have to get them when we can from late April through September. I was sorely disappointed in the Metropolitan Museum's version which paled in comparison. Once we'd ordered and our margaritas arrived, we cracked up when the complimentary mojitos arrived. The subway ride to Brooklyn was a blur. Luckily, Valerie was a native and could navigate on auto-pilot.)

Before the drinks arrived, Jean presented me with the wonderful card of two ancient twins. We don’t look much like that yet, but we’re working on it.

Jean had another surprise up her sleeve – or rather on the tip of her tongue. Between these two surprises, I was just about falling off the edge of my seat with laughter. Jean has transitional lenses, and in the sun she looks like a famous TV and movie character. On her tongue, she had inscribed the sign of Vorro. (Jean says: Valerie's birthday is always a celebration. I'd had a blueberry popsicle at the beach the day before that turned my tongue blue. I remembered a line from the film "Badlands" with Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek in which he murders her family and they take off across the prarie on the lam. Sissy's character talks about writing letters with her tongue on the roof of her mouth. I figured writing the letter "V" for Valerie's birthday on the roof of my mouth would be tough to show off - without a tongue depressor and a flashlight! So, I took a magic marker and wrote a big "V" on my tongue. Only later when I saw the photos did I think that I looked like the revolutionary character in the fantasy film "V" - who also sported a Zorro-like hat, cape and mask. The look on Valerie's face when I stuck out my tongue was priceless. It was a blast. It lasted all day.)

Well (reprises Valerie), we wound up at the Brooklyn Museum of Art (as it’s now called) rather later than we expected, and probably happier than we expected, too.

On our arrival, we made the obligatory stop at the gift shop. This is always good strategy, too. It gets the shopping part of the trip off the agenda right away so you can focus your full concentration on the art. More than once we’ve left our gift shop visit till the end, and have been rushed out or, worse yet, have found that the gift shop closes before the museum. A trip to the museum is like a great dinner, and the gift shop is the dessert. Who said “Life is short: eat dessert first”? That person knew that museum gift shops can sell out of The Thing You Want, or can close early.

Then up we went to see the Warhol exhibition where, again, we stopped to see the special array of tantalizing goodies before setting about the serious business of looking at art.






Jean caught me admiring this Andy Warhol soup can shopping bag as if it were a shirt. She then forced me to stand there helplessly as she bought it for me. I think it’s fabulous, and it was a fabulous gift. I’ve already unpicked the base, and just have to shorten the sleeves.

Then we went to see the American High Style exhibition. We fell in love with two pairs of shoes by Steven Arpad. Both have sculpted wooden soles. Here they are. I think they were samples and were never worn. It’s hard to imagine the sculpted wood holding up to the punishment of actual wearing, but they’re still wonderful to behold. (Jean says: Somebody ought to buy the rights and reproduce Arpad's shoes. They were absolutely spectacular. Beautifully made and artfully designed, they were like mini-sculptures.)
















The Brooklyn’s fashion exhibition was not as well advertised as the one at the Metropolitan, but I liked it better. (1949 Adrian, at left; 1955 Charles James at right.)The only curious thing about the Brooklyn show was the display of one of Queen Victoria’s dresses (probably not too different from the one shown here). Actually, I was happy and interested to see it, but we (us, not the Royal We) do wonder why a dress worn by the Queen of England was displayed in a show called American High Style. (Jean says: Judging from the dress, Queen V was only about 4 feet tall - and about 3 feet wide.)

And here’s Jean beside a dog mannequin in a good Republican cloth coat. (Jean says: Prior to the show, I hadn't really thought about dog clothing as particularly American. The exhibit had a great doggie-jacket and matching leash and collar, displayed on an adorable faux canine.)

By the time we left, my poor feet were crying for mercy. I imposed on Jean’s good nature by asking if I could give my feet a massage before we made our way to the subway. Jean asked if I could do that someplace where there would be less of an audience (what, MOI, be discreet??), so we walked over to the entrance of the Botanical Gardens. They were already closed, and relatively free of passersby. I gave my feet a rubdown, then cooled and cleaned my hands with the wet wipes I always in my bag. Afterward, we took this photo of Jean in front of the handsome gatework. (Jean says: I managed to kill two birds with one stone - Valerie got her foot massage and I got to check out the entrance to the Botanical Garden.)







I include this photo with trepidation, as it brings out all my worst features. Anyone would think I’d stolen a rhinoceros from the Museum and hidden it under my dress. And what is that thing that looks like an arm, except much wider? Hey, wait - could it just be an optical illusion - a trick of perspective? Jean, ever thoughtful, suggested the words voluptuous and reubenesque to describe me here. Or she could have said curvy, as in Real Women Have Curves. But we all know what these are code words for, right? (Jean says: My lips are sealed.)

Before heading back, we stopped for a few more photos. Jean was inspired by this gargoyle to once more make the sign of the V. (Jean says: The art in the subway stop was terrific. One last photo op before jumping on the train and heading homeward.)

I had a fabulous birthday (what Jean called an “event-driven birthday”). I almost can’t wait for the next one! Or for Jean's!

Jean is wearing a vintage straw matador hat from G. Fox & Co. (Est. 1847 Hartford), a black top by Bisou Jeans under a Top Shop black and white knit tank top, St. Vincent skirt, Alexander McQueen high top black patent Puma sneakers and Moss Lipow specs.

Valerie is wearing an old Kokin hat, second hand black linen dress by Joan Vass, tank top by Fluxus from the semiannual East 4th Street flea market, white cotton leggings by Capezio, Arche nubuck shoes, Mexican silver bracelets, rubber and metal earrings from the dearly departed 26th Street flea market, a teeny weeny button with a woodcut version of Munch's The Scream, and a rhinoceros underneath.

Communication Gap Between Sexes - Don't Blame The Ears

• Two Tales: Unbridged vs Abridged
Ask a couple who just returned from vacation how their trip was and you’ll hear two very different variations of the same story - an unabridged and abridged version. From the woman, you’ll hear a play-by-play, hour long, detailed packed tale full of highs and lows, tragic and triumph, love and lose. And from the man, you’ll get a one sentence reply, "it was good." If you’re a woman comparing these stories you’ll immediately overanalyze and jump to conclusions thinking something must be wrong! Did this man NOT enjoy himself? He barely said anything! He must want to breakup with her and she is clueless! But if you’re a guy comparing these stories, you simply reply "cool" and go about your day. It’s no secret that men and women are very different when it comes to communication styles. Women want to immerse you in their world. They really stand behind the "sharing is caring" motto they learned as children. Whereas men just give you the bullet points, the highlighted Cliff Notes.

• Fiction or Non-Fiction: Men Suck At Listening?
It seems the only thing more frustrating to a woman than a man’s lack of storytelling is his inability to listen. Men are constantly getting crap for not listening! The fact of the matter is if you are talking a mile a minute and throwing all sorts of info at me and your story is jumping all over the place causing me to play connect the dots with the bullet points, I’m going to feel overwhelmed and confused. And when I get to that state, I start to tremble and silently whimper. I tune you out because you’re making my brain hurt. It’s a survival method!

• When Someone Finishes Your Sentences
I recently read a great article titled "The Art Of Listening" by ChaChanna Simpson. She talks about her biggest pet peeve - interrupting someone when they speak. She empathizes how YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY LISTEN TO SOMEONE IF YOU ARE TALKING AT THE SAME TIME. While I totally agree with her, I personally like it when someone can finish my sentences. To me that says they "get me." And it saves me the trouble of having to find the words, or waste their time getting to the point of what I was saying if they already know what the point of what I’m trying to say is! When that happens, you just know the two of you click and there’s an instant bond there - something that’s not always easy to find. Of course when they don’t "get you" and they try to finish your sentences, then it just comes across as a rude interruption and is annoying.

• She’s Looking For An Ear, He’s Looking For A Solution
Like I said, there is a HUGE difference between men and women when it comes to communication. Women often say they like a guy who enjoys talking, but what they really mean is they like a guy who enjoys listening to THEM talk. I don’t mean that in a rude way. What I mean is that women often just want someone to vent to, someone to listen. However, men by nature are problems solvers and many have trouble not offering advice in hopes of solving their girlfriend’s problem rather than just offering her an ear and nothing else. I’ve learned this lesson at a young age from growing up with two sisters. And I’ve learned that more often than not, I’m to shut up and just listen.

Now when it comes to men, I know that when I have a problem some of my female friends think I just want to vent to them. So they will listen to me, but not offer any solutions or advice. As a guy, that frustrates me because usually the whole reason I brought the topic up is because I’m seeking help, not just an ear to listen. And there lies the communication barrier. Perhaps I could break through that barrier if I started the conversation by saying three words - I need help. A phrase I rarely, if ever, say. Because it goes against my strong, independent, problem solving mindset. (You can add "stupid" in there if you like as well.)

• Listening Is Done With Your Heart
It's the old "you hear me, but are you actually listening?" If you're a man, you've probably heard this snappy tone projected your way on a least a handful of occasions. But something women should be aware of is a lot of men have been trained to just hit the red record button in their brain when a woman starts to talk. That way when she asks if he’s listening, he can simply hit play and spit back all that data. So while it may appear he was listening, he may not actually be listening. I think TRUE listening has to come from caring. When you care about someone and what they have to say, you’ll listen with not just your ears, but with your heart as well.

So what does it mean if you started forming a comment to this post before you even finished reading this post? It means you're a bad listener (er, reader). But hopefully some of what I've said today can help break down the barrier and bridge the communication gap between the sexes. Because the first step to better communication is understanding that people's wants, needs and communication styles vary. When it comes down to it, the communication gap between the sexes has less to do with the gap between your ears and more to do with the gap in your heart. When you care more, you'll listen more. It's as simple as that.

Learning How To Breathe

I don’t know how to breathe.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. What was once a natural born instinct is now something I find myself struggling with. For most people, breathing is done exactly opposite of how it should be! Studies show that around 40% of us breathe incorrectly. Breathing is more than just the process of taking oxygen and carbon dioxide in and out of the lungs. Breathing regulates your state of mind, your emotions, your concentration and so much more. Learning to breathe the right way will help you to be healthier, calmer and give you the ability to handle stressful life situations. Plus, it just makes you feel better! And who doesn’t want to feel better, to live a happier and more peaceful life?

Think back to the first time you stood up and gave a speech infront of your high school class. Your palms sweated. Your heart pounded. Your voice quivered. Your stomach felt nauseous. That nervousness, fear, stress and anxiety wouldn’t have existed if you had known how to properly breathe. It’s normal to tense up and resort to shallow breaths or hold your breath completely when faced with fear. But what many people don’t realize is our body’s natural defensive mechanism is flawed! Physical, mental, and emotional stress all put extreme strain on our bodies. We get ourselves so worked up to the point where we can’t even breathe! It’s that breath before the first kiss. Or those gasps during the last mile of the race. If we just knew how to steady our breathing we would be ok.

As a fighter I’ve been taught the importance of proper breathing. When the fight is on your feet, you gain more power in your punches and kicks if you exhale on their release. When you’re tossed on your back in the middle of the octagon and the fight is on the ground, your body is tense, but you have to train your mind to relax. In that vulnerable position, you must control your breathing and not panic while fists are raining down on your face! Of course that’s always easier said than done, but anything in life worth doing is always easier said than done. Proper breathing is no exception to that rule. And while I may know how to properly breathe while fighting, when I’m out of that cage and sitting in my office, it’s like I’ve forgotten everything I was taught!

Breathing is one of those things that most of us don’t pay attention to. As I’m writing this, I’m breathing. In fact, I’m writing ABOUT breathing and I’m not even THINKING about breathing. While my body may be automatically performing this essential task for me in order to sustain life, it’s not necessarily doing it in the best possible way. Breathing is one of the few bodily functions that can be controlled both consciously and unconsciously. The goal here is to learn the proper techniques to conscious breathing. Then, with practice, those same techniques will soon become second nature to your body. The final result will be new and improved unconscious breathing! Basically, we are perfecting the art of breathing...one breath at a time.

To breathe correctly, you must divide the breath into three parts - lower abdomen, middle abdomen, and chest. When inhaling, first fill up the lower abdomen with air, then the middle abdomen, and last the chest. When exhaling, the air in the chest goes out first, then the middle abdomen, and lastly the lower abdomen. You must physically push the abdomen out when inhaling and in when exhaling. (That is not a typo.) When done correctly, there is no need to pull the abdomen in because it is done effortlessly. If you can consciously breathe the right way by forcing the abdomen out during inhalation your body will soon pick up this rhythm. The human brain has many functions and one of them is to follow the breath. Breathing is not about just holding the breath in or out, it’s about breathing long and deeply. Do this by breathing very slowly, using the full capacity of your lungs and completely exhaling. The best way to breath properly is to build up little by little. As the lung's capacity starts to expand, your mind becomes calmer and clearer.

The magic of breathing starts when you master exhaling. During exhalation there is a natural urge to inhale immediately after exhalation due to the discomfort it initially brings. When this natural tendency calms down you will be able to reach a higher level of consciousness. Retraining your body to breathe this way is harder than it sounds. But remember, anything worth doing in life is always easier said than done. Although I’m quite confident that once you learn how to properly breathe, it will be one of the best things you’ve ever done for yourself. Your stress will decrease and your focus will increase. Everyone seeks balance in life and breathing is the first step to finding that balance. So steady your breathing. And take it slowly, one breath at a time.

***NOTE***
You can also see this post featured on BrazenCareerist.com

NASA's Research Opportunities in Space and Earth Sciences

The Caracol LIDAR Project (SAS Blog Post on May12, 2010) has recently been reported at professional conferences and news articles like this one from the New York Times. This project has highlighted the application of new technologies to archaeology. In addition, the success of the Caracol program has also widened awareness of the NASA Space Archaeology program which has the scientific objective to use the vantage point of space to improve our understanding of past human settlement patterns.

The NASA Space Archaeology program solicits proposals that incorporate the use of remote sensing data for the exploration of regional landscape analysis and modeling of human and enivronmental interactions as well as the protection and preservation of cultural heritage sites and sustainable development of cultural resources.

A newly awarded NASA grant, Climate Change and Human Impact on Ancient and Modern Settlements: Identification and Condition Assessment of Archaeologucal Sites in the Northern Levant from Landsat, ASTER and CORONA Imagery utilizes existing satellite imagery from the last thirty years. In full disclosure, this award has gone to my colleagues located just down the hall at The Geo-Archaeological Information Applications (GAIA) Lab, at the Archaeological Research Institute, in the School of Human Evolution & Culture Change at Arizona State University.

The initial pilot study and grant proposal are available online (link above) and outlines the goals of the project. In addition to exploring archaeological questions of urban collapse, this project seeks to identify areas of potential damage to existing cultural heritage materials in the Levant region of the Middle East. For archaeologists, the refinement and development of techniques to make use of Lansat TM, ASTER and CORONA imagery is beneficial. The corrected images and newly acquired site information will be made available on the Digital Archaeological Atlas of the Holy Land for public and professional use.

Brave New Perspective

Sometimes a girl - or a woman of a certain age - just needs a new perspective on things.

Did you know that the average American gets two weeks' vacation per year, and the average Australian gets six? As does the average Swiss and average German, and probably the average Frenchman and Italian. Jean and I took stock of our year, and discovered, to our great surprise, that in two weeks the Idiosyncratic Fashionistas blog will have its first anniversary, and we have yet to take a vacation from this enterprise! Geez! Even monthly magazines combine two issues annually so they only have to publish eleven, and not the twelve you might think they do. The Idiosyncratic Fashionistas need to take a good look at the six week model, and not the two week American model or our very own no week model. So today, in the spirit of il dolce far niente (the sweet doing nothing), while Jean is on a literal vacation with her Sweetie, I'm going to put up some stuff I like, but stuff I don't have to think too much about. A busman's - or rather an e-publisher's - holiday.

If a picture is really worth a thousand words, I figured a headstand would make a nice start to the entry. By the way, all, I just had my vkxmzphlth birthday a few weeks ago, so if you think you're too old for this or that, maybe a different perspective is just what you need. (Actually, right about now, with the economy down the loo and a third of the Gulf of Mexico gone from blue to brown, we might all need a change in perspective.)

All pictures taken by Jean who, it should be noted, came close to trying a headstand herself, but decided against it with good reason. When my skirt goes up (um - down), it reveals nothing; Jean, not having been a boy scout, was not prepared for the occasion (because she had grave doubts about it, and was not planning to join me), AND was not prepared to show - well - if YOUR skirt went up (or down) around YOUR head, what would YOU not be prepared to show?

THE PROCESS:

I mug it up for the camera. Nothing up my sleeve, as you can see.









Starting position. Does this butt make my backdrop look big?









Ready for lift off.








Mission accomplished, albeit under cover.









Safe landing. I only held the pose for a few minutes, so Jean could be sure to get a few good shots, but I felt comfortable for as long as I was up there. (Oodles of years ago, I took yoga from a fabulous Indian teacher, whom I knew only as Datu, and his second in command, Norman Sjoman.)





Skeptics will say 'Yeah, but is it HER under that thing, or did she hire a body double?' (Yes, I hired Nicole Kidman's body double.) Just kidding. So I did it one more time, but without the skirt. (Remember the old U.S. policy vis-a-vis Russia? 'Trust, but verify'?)





Mission accomplished again. When surfers say "Tubular!", they mean awesome. When I say tubular, I mean Hey, wait, where's my waist? To be a bit fair, I'm wearing one of my favorite outfits, cotton and lycra leggings under a cotton and lycra dress. They're a bit bulky when worn together. Anyway, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

(Skirt by Luna Luz, by the way; sleeveless dress and leggings by H&M.)


BRAVE NEW MATERIAL

Second thing I want to do is introduce you to Lara Knutson, whom Jean and I met at Cooper Hewitt's garden party last week. Lara was wearing a FABULOUS matching gray necklace and bracelet. To me it looked like knitted featherweight paper, but when I inquired about it admiringly, Lara informed me that it was glass, and her own design. This is a recent picture by Lara of her friend Kathleen Scully wearing the necklace (or several necklaces together???) and bracelet. Lara told me both are now available at the Museum of Modern Art, so when I stopped in yesterday (to buy a new make-up carrier, as my poor little Le Sportsac bag, spotlighted in our earlier posting, Old Bags' Old Bags, is rapidly going to object heaven), I looked for them and tried them on. Lara has made tiny magnetic clasps for them, and the entire effect is wonderful. They're not on MOMA's website, alas, but if you're in New York City, stop in and check them out. I guarantee you've never felt anything like this - at least, not in the glass family. It feels like wispy cotton cord! Better still, as Lara showed us in the dusk at Cooper Hewitt, the material reflects light, which must make it absolutely stunning by candle light. (And perhaps a good thing to wear while cycling at night?) Both are VERY reasonably priced, too, and look great - just like in the picture. Early Christmas shoppers, take heed! For more information, have a look at the June 19, 2010 entry of Lara’s blog; click on the photo above for a better view. (No full disclosure necessary here, by the way. The Idiosyncratic Fashionistas are not being paid for this. We just like Lara's creations, and wish her much success with her great product designs.)


BRAVE NEW UNDERGROUND

Lastly, I thought you should see this video, which was sent to me by Greer. It opens on St. Stephen's Basilica, a church in Budapest with a grand, sweeping plaza, blissfully free of cars (image from Google Images). Then it shows a cutaway of the plaza, and an incredible automated parking garage hidden underneath, with capacity for some 700 automobiles, ingeniously stacked. Wouldn't it be great if we could have something like that here in the United States, to leave our streets free and open? Have a look! The whole video is about five minutes, with voice-over in English. (This has not been verified with Snopes.com. Remember, it's our vacation, and we get to be lazy.)

Either I Don’t Have A Heart Or I’m Doing It Wrong

Rumor has it that Yoga’s Camel Pose is supposed to cause this huge flood of suppressed emotion to erupt while you’re in it. I can see why people (or maybe just women?) might feel a bit more emotional in such a vulnerable state - hips out, head back, heart exposed. I imagine that contorting your body in such a physically defenseless position with your throat arched open to attack would lure any self-imposed emotional predator to lunge, like a mountain lion going for your jugular! Or something like that.

I think everyone would agree that at first Yoga feels a bit unnatural. And perhaps there lies the problem. We are trying to reconnect ourselves to the Universe in the most awkward of ways. Whether you’re balancing the entire weight of your body on the palm of one hand, or if you have both of your feet dangling from the tops of your shoulders, Yoga is just...well weird and often painful. So why does it hurt so good? Simple. Because for the first time in your life you are opening up your mind, body and soul to something outside your comfort zone. Yoga feels unnatural at first because the movements have not been in our nature, but probably should be.

So what’s not in the nature of most men? Opening up to their emotions. So with all of Yoga’s bendy benefits aside, I decided to give this Camel Pose thing a try. To see if it would...well, you know.

Granted, I knew I wouldn’t burst into tears, but yet I was too curious not to try it. It’s like when I was a little and rumor had it that Little Mikey from the LIFE cereal box died after his stomach exploded from eating a bag of Pop Rocks and chasing it with a can of Pepsi. So I had to do the same thing to see what would happen, of course!

So the other night, as my own private experiment, I did the Camel Pose. There I was. Alone in my living room. All contorted. Feeling the burn in my thigh muscles. Taking the recommended 5 deep breaths. Holding. Holding. Holding. Holding. Holding. Then slowly coming out of the pose. Reaction – nothing. I felt zero, zip, zilch, not a thing. So does this mean I don’t have a heart? Or maybe I’m just doing it wrong?

I have to be honest, I would be embarrassed if it had made me cry (especially considering I can count the total number of times I’ve ever cried in my life on one hand). But I’m also somewhat disappointed I didn’t have any reaction, at all. Emotionless and numb. Much like any Yoga pose, I’m left just feeling awkward.

Archaeological Sciences Education Down Under

The Australian National University in Canberra recently started a Masters of Archaeological Science Program. The program includes several themes, including Environmental Archaeology, Archaeological Site Science, and Archaeology, Climate Change and Natural Hazards, among others. The program philosophy touches on some interesting ideas, including how archaeological science can shape policy and shape landscapes.

Just recently the first graduate of the program was awarded his degree. I hope that we can see development of more archaeological science programs and departments here in Australia and around the world.

Call for Papers, Australian Archaeological Association Conference 2010

CALL FOR PAPERS - AUSTRALIAN ARCHAEOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION CONFERENCE 2010

The Australian National University is pleased to be hosting the 2010 Australian Archaeological Association conference.

We would now welcome proposals for individual papers in line with our conference sessions. A full list of these sessions can be viewed at: http://arts.anu.edu.au/AandA/archaeology/aaaconference/aaasessions.asp 

Please contact the appropriate session organiser/s before 1 October to submit your abstract. 

Bakelite Boogaloo

Jean says: On June 6th, Valerie and I road the rails to Yonkers, to the Bakelite Show at the Hudson River Museum. Although we talked about going for weeks, little procrastinators that we are, we waited until the closing day to make our appearance. It was well worth the effort. [Valerie explains: Well, we were too frozen chicken, so to speak, to attend the February opening, much as we wanted to, and by the time the weather warmed up I was immobilized by my surgery. So yes, we were procrastinators, but not entirely without reason.]



We met at Grand Central, purchased our tickets, posed for photographs and hopped the Metro North train to boogaloo to Yonkers. The tracks go right by the new Yankee Stadium and then head northward, hugging the riverbank. [With regard to posing for photographs, Valerie adds: Grand Central is a Gilded Age delight for tourists, and we, being nearly Gilded Age ourselves, added not a little to the atmosphere, and stimulated tourists to further photographic frenzy.]




The train ride along the Hudson River is scenic and relatively short. With the exception of the young man at the front of our car who spent about ten minutes shouting into his cell phone, describing to a buddy his previous evening's escapades in excruciatingly graphic detail, the ride was lots of fun. In thirty-five minutes we arrived at at our destination. (Note to the file: This trip would be spectacular in autumn when the trees are changing!)


I was thrilled when Valerie appeared in a black and white ensemble wearing fraternal twin black surgical boots, coolie hat and what I affectionately refer to as her "Wilma Flintstone" necklace of small boulders. Shortly after we took the rude cell phone caller to task, we arrived at our destination. [Valerie notes: I tip my very broad hat to the caller. Immediately after we pounced on this poor unsuspecting young man for a performance that could have rivaled any of Ethel Merman's for sheer lung power, he cut his call short, which puts him miles ahead of most cell phone callers.]



Like a pirate "armed to the teeth", I was dressed for the occasion, sporting a selection of some of my all-time favorites from my bakelite collection. I combined a black Art Deco bakelite necklace with two forearms of multi-colored vintage bracelets, red bakelite and resin rings and graphic black and white plastic earrings.






I love all things bakelite. My first piece of bakelite jewelry was a black cameo that belonged to my maternal grandmother. Bakelite was what my mother described as "costume" jewelry. Savvy readers will remember that the cameo on a black bakelite necklace was featured as #6 in my "Twelve of our Favorite Blings" year-end blog entry. The good thing about bakelite jewelry is that it withstands both heat and cold and both moisture and arid conditions. Although thin vintage chains do occasionally break after up to sixty years of wear and tear, the larger pieces are amazingly durable (so far, at least).



I wear bakelite on a daily basis. I have a large square black bakelite ring with a carved criss-cross design that I purchased in Soho at least 25 years ago and wear constantly on my right ring finger. (It is visible in both "armload" photos. Click on photos to enlarge.) About ten years ago, Henry Grossman, one of the dealers at the NYC indoor flea market at the Garage on 26th Street, found matching earrings in Paris and brought them back for me. Although after a quarter century of slamming it into things, the ring is still intact, I live in constant fear of the day it chips or shatters. So much so that when I found its twin over a decade ago, I purchased it and tucked it safely away as insurance against that rainy day. Then, I found its other 'twin' in clear plexiglass and ...



I began collecting bracelets, necklaces and rings about thirty years ago, when you could still pick up a decent bracelet at a yard sale for $5 to $10 and a hand-carved gem of a bracelet for $30 to $40. I am shocked to see identical versions of my bracelets on e-Bay and the internet with asking prices ten times what I paid for them. [Valerie interjects: Do I detect the merest hint of smugness hidden in this apparent lament for bygone days? Is this the Jean version of Captain Renault in Casablanca, who was "... shocked, SHOCKED to find that gambling is going on in here!"?]

Back to Jean: FYI: The Brooklyn Museum has some selected bakelite items for sale in its ground floor museum shop. (All I can say is that I'm glad I started collecting before prices became so astronomical.)

[Valerie, getting her snarky on, says: Readers, did you ever wonder how the price of bakelite - a mass produced plastic - got so high? It has to do with the singlehanded embezzlement of $7 million from a high profile law firm by a member of their accounting staff. Read about it in this New York Magazine article. By way of full disclosure, I should add that I own probably FIVE pieces of bakelite. Not because I don't love it, but because I failed to get on the $5-10 gravy train, and later refused to compete with the above-mentioned law firm accountant, having no way myself to embezzle $7 million. SIGH. Life is so unfair.]


The Hudson River Museum is a very pretty facility (modern concrete building attached to a Hudson River-style stone mansion) in a striking setting (overlooking the Hudson) coveniently located (only a three block walk from train station through a park). Here's Valerie at the front door, flaunting that orthopedic footwear sans cane. Isn't it a shame she's so shy and retiring?

We are keeping our eye out for future shows there. One major drawback, however, is the fact that there is no food on the premises and there are no stores or coffee shops or delis within walking distance or on the way from the train station. There weren't even vending machines at the museum or on the train platform and the station was closed on Sunday afternoons. With the park with grassy hills surrounding the museum, picnic lunches should be the order of the day. [Valerie sticks 'er oar in: Having said that, though, the boom boxes at the bottom of the grassy hills were completely audible to us at the top of the hill. So if you're going for a quiet picnic, don't. Or bring your own music to drown out others'. Or bring your ear plugs.]

River View - Here I am on the patio cum viewing platform between the modern and Victorian buildings.









Hudson River Rear View. Here's Valerie surveying the coastline and looking glam. [Valerie sez: Yeah. Notice how I've reworked the Michael Jackson single white glove thing into my very own single white sock thing. And of course who ELSE is doing the single polka dotted shoe thing?]




Bakelite, a synthetic resin, was invented by Leo Hendrik Baekeland, a Belgian-American chemist, in his barn in Yonkers, NY in 1907.

Although the museum did include some jewelry in the show (and for sale in the museum store), the show itself focused on the wide variety of uses for bakelite, from industrial (electrical transformers, microphone housings), office (telephones, adding machines, letter openers), home (appliances, flatware, jewelry cases, cigar cases and bar ware) and gaming (poker chips, mah jong tiles, billiard balls, dice and dominos). The show included other phenol-based plastic-like materials too, so there were delicate celluloid boxes, beautiful clear plexiglass-like objects and candy-colored clear objects like lollipop red cocktail shaker handles. There was a short 15-minute documentary film from the 1950's that was wonderfully informative and totally of the period. The museum also featured modern bakelite objects inspired by the original, including a lipstick red toilet seat by Philippe Starck. (Can you spell E-N-V-Y?)

One of the articles published about the compilation of the objects in the show mentioned the fact that neither of the show's main contributors owned that most elusive of collector's items -- a bakelite coffin. Interesting factoid I gleaned from the movie "Savage Grace" featuring Julianne Moore as Barbara, the nymphomaniac wife of the grandson of bakelite's inventor, Anthony Baekeland - that the casing for the atom bomb was made of bakelite!



Here's Valerie in the small garden in front of a beautiful Japanese maple tree and rather ancient mill stones.








Here I am in the garden next to the stone mansion.









We posed for photographs just before a huge storm blew in, complete with driving rain and high winds. Minutes after we stepped inside the older portion, the rainstorm struck. By the time we'd finished our visit, the raindrops stopped, the dark clouds dissipated and we walked back down the hill to the train station.



Avid readers will remember Valerie's comment in a prior entry about how it is forbidden to photograph members of some royal family or other while they are eating. In this photo, Valerie appears to be invoking similar privilege.





Valerie is wearing: designer straw hat purchased in the mid-'90s at now-defunct Weber's outlet store for $4.99; ceramic necklace (much lighter than everyone seems to think) by Peter Lane Clay; black linen designer dress purchased recently at a thrift shop for $20; black metal and elastic cuffs purchased in the '80s at Matsuya Ginza; black and white cotton and lycra striped leggings from Top Shop; mismatched black surgical shoes, from the most recent and an earlier foot surgery. (I wore the second surgical shoe on the right foot because it was the same height as the medically necessary shoe on the left foot, and so was a better match than any of my regular shoes.)

Jean is wearing: Ignatius straw hat with denuded peacock feather; black TALE N 3 dress from the eponymous shop in Milan; assorted vintage bakelite bracelets, rings and necklace; vintage plastic earrings; Dansko clogs and Moss Lipow spectacles.

BAKELITE BONUS: Xtine, a fellow East Vilage denizen and bakelite afficionado extraordinaire, sent us a photograph and missive from the great Nortwest that we just had to share with you. Xtine is a wonderfully unique individual. I don't think I've ever seen her without a fabulous hat -- or bakelite. Instantly recognizable and iconic, she evokes another era. She combines wristsful of bakelite bracelets and either vintage or retro-inspired clothing and footwear. Here we go:

Xtine says:
Hi, Snappy Dressers, Jean and Valerie!
Hullo, Ladies--
Thought you might enjoy this snap of me that my mother took while I was sawing up an old tree for the garden waste on my visit to my parentals in Edmonds, WA a couple of weeks ago.

Sporting my all-purpose, mostly-9th street outfit: City Slicker duster and gingham slipdress over black slipdress by Jill Anderson, hat by Huminska, stripey sox from Duane Reade, booties by John Fluevog, vintage bakelite bangles, mom's workgloves. Saw optional.

Hope you are well. Xtine

Jean says: Valerie and I totally cracked up when we saw her photo and commentary. Her retro-chic approach to gardening is a total hoot. Fluevog shoes for garden tramping and tree chopping! Who'd a thunk it? Next time any of you are in the East Village, drop into Jill Anderson's store on E. 9th Street (between 1st and 2nd Ave.). The owner commissioned a local artist to paint portraits of her favorite customers. As her first customer, Xtine holds the place of honor at the lower left of the grid of paintings, closest to the entry. Check out the clothes too. It's a terrific shop.

Attention, all you other Snappy Dressers out there! Do send us your comments and photos (to: mono.crone@gmail.com) - we'd love to hear from you.