The Perfect Infant Outfit

Stop the presses. Get out your wallets. If you're having a baby or you know someone having a baby, your search for the perfect infant outfit ends here.

The Infant Kimono Wrap by Westcoast Baby is everything your newborn needs. It doesn't have to be pulled over the head (babies hate that), there's no complicated button/snap/zipper closing system (convenient for the millions of diaper changes in those first weeks), and it opens easily for skin-to-skin contact without leaving baby completely naked or tangled up in a blanket. Also, it's oh so easy on the eyes for parents.

They're currently sold out in 'wasabi' and 'mandarin,' but with any luck they'll restock those gender neutral colors soon.

Best Children's Room Ever

I've been checking out Apartment Therapy because Amy and Dave's nifty DIY bed was featured there recently.  Anyway, through a series of clicks (what the young people call "surfing the net"), I wound up face to face with the most beautiful corner of a children's room I have ever seen.  Even better, according to its owner, it's for her two children, who share a room, just as mine will be doing in three short long months.  Mostly I'm posting this to remind myself to repaint the room this way.



As if that wasn't enough, these incredibly crafty and stylin' folks used cork trivets (!) to make functional art on the wall above their office. I will be stealing this idea one of these days when I get around to it. (Instead of random placement, I'm imagining them lined up 3 x 3 or something. In fact, this would go well not only in a home office but in a kid's room.)

Bamboo Tea Bag Box from Crate & Barrel

I don't know about you, but I have a lot of tea.  While this would not come near holding all of it, it would certainly enable me to keep certain amounts of it outside the cabinet (and therefore remind me to drink it more often).

Ways in which this would make my life better:  (1) I would drink more tea, and tea is wonderful in many ways; (2) my guests would drink tea with me (their flavor options would be right there in front of them!); and (3) my guests and I would then discuss all manner of tea-related topics.

What is your greatest weakness?

Basically the most painful question an interviewer can ask.  A friend of mine was laid off on Monday (boo!) but already had two phone interviews this morning (yay!).  He claims to have bombed both of them, citing his response the most dreaded question in the history of job interviews:  "What is your greatest weakness?"  Apparently he said "um" for a minute before the interviewer just moved on.  Probably not the best response.

So he doesn't get caught off guard by the question again, I went a-googling and found this incredibly helpful blog post.  Basically the idea is to answer the question by showing the interviewer that you were aware of this weakness prior to the interview and that you have already implemented steps in your work routine to overcome it.  The author also provides examples of how you might phrase specific weaknesses.  Not that I have any plans to be interviewing any time soon, but it's always good to be prepared.  Here's my 100% truthful answer:

I tend to become overwhelmed if I think I have too many projects going on at once. My solution to this is to create a to-do list so I can see what I have to do still as well as the progress that I've made.

The author also offers the funniest answer he's heard:  "Kryptonite."  And one of the commenters claims to have said "Chocolate cake," which made the interviewers laugh (he was hired).  In fact, a funny answer may make you a more memorable candidate if you can provide the interviewers with a genuine chuckle.  All the same, best to have a real (and honest!) answer prepared before you show up.  Feel free to leave yours in the comments.

The Declaration of Independence

We were at Milwaukee's lakefront last night for the city's annual fireworks as we are every year, and they were fantastic.  My 2 1/2 year old son, who for the first time was really able to enjoy the fireworks, kept repeating "Oh!," "Wow...," and a very awe-struck "Oh my gosh..."  My favorite comment of his though was "It sounds like a dinosaur!"  Though I hated the fireworks through my teen years (nothing personal: I hated everything), I have really come to love them in recent years (and if we ever move from Milwaukee, our lakefront gathering will be an annual tradition I will miss).  The all-American loving spirit of Frank Capra wells up within me and I always think how awesome it is that *this* is the way we celebrate our nation's birthday, with giant outdoor gatherings of all our towns and cities across the country to watch fireworks.

Josh Patashnik at The New Republic explains that he likes to reread the Declaration each year on the fourth of July to remind himself what it's all about.  Then he asked readers for their favorite grievances against King George (a key list within the Declaration, but you already knew that, right?), which I admit I cannot provide because I don't know enough about what the colonists were so aggrieved.

I'll be taking early American history during the Spring 2009 semester, so next summer I plan to have an answer to the question, but in the meantime, I did sit down and reread our nation's founding document, which I encourage you to do as well today before you head off for barbeques and pool parties and parades.  I liked the last line of the second-to-last paragraph:  

We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

Note he didn't say, we're declaring our independence from these jerks and enemies we shall be until the end of the time!  No, he was cool with just being friends if King George would be cool with that too.

You can read the Declaration, view high-res images of the original, and probably get more background info that you thought possible from the nice folks at the National Archives.

Rothko Angst Update

I have finished my paper, which I believe was far less professional than I would have preferred.  Even if it is an assignment on MY impressions, I still feel like I've used an unqualified 1st person.  Whatever.  It's MATC.  He'll probably think it's the greatest student paper he's ever read.

Anyway, through writing the paper (which, again, is more like a good first draft as far as I'm concerned), I eventually came to a conclusion (note I didn't say I came to *the* conclusion), that it's the colors that make a Rothko in the format in which he has presented them.  And these colors exude life and energy and a vibrancy which strikes me as really interesting, like if we lived in a black and white world, it's not just that the trees wouldn't be green, it's that the green itself provides the cues to our brains that the tree is alive.  (Yes, I understand photosynthesis, but I'm dealing in psychology just now.)  (And yes, I realize that our brains probably evolved in some form as an adaptation to the innate recognition of photosynthesis, but again, regular ol' neuropsychology, not evolutionary psychology.)

So if that is the case and Rothko has within his rectangles with their rough edges captured the color in such a way as to mimic the cues that color provides to our brains, maybe that it what makes a Rothko so challenging.  I see green color in a leaf-shape, my brain says "Look!  A leaf!"  I see green color in a fuzzy radiating rectangle shape, my brain says, "Look!  A...  thing!  Wait... what?"  My brain is telling me there's energy there, but it has no idea with what type of energy to identify it with.

I will think on this further and hopefully be able to more clearly explain myself at a later time.  In the meanwhile, I actually feel better.  It's as if I've released my brain from the tension created between it and the painting.  (Seriously, though, am I the only person with this problem?)

Ikea Madness

I would live in an Ikea.  I would decorate my entire house with Ikea.  Seriously, where else could you buy a light this gorgeous for $6?

Reasons I miss San Francisco

As some of you know, I used to live in San Francisco. We've been gone five years this summer. That is far too long. Below, a list of things I miss about the most beautiful city in the country:

• Various family members who know who they are.  I mean, if we lived in SF, we'd be able to be with everyone as opposed to all the hectic visiting.  Matt and I could watch zombie movies on a regular basis instead of trying to pencil them into an exhausting week of running from one place to the next.  My brother now works mere blocks from where I used to work.  We could be doing lunch!
  
• The best Chinese food on the planet.
  
• MUNI
  
• Hills (No, seriously.)
  
• Wishbone, the greatest store in the world filled with almost nothing that anyone actually needs but that everyone wants.
  
• Children's Playground.  Ok, I admit I didn't spend much time there when we lived in SF, but now that I have a small child and a second on the way, I can see myself spending lots of time there.  Strangely, the official site has no pictures of the newly renovated playground, but trust me, it's awesome.

Yes, there are things I would miss about Milwaukee.  But those are some of my favorite things about the city, and I would give just about anything to move back most days.

And that's another thing

As mentioned at the beginning of my previous post, before launching into a tirade of how I don't understand Rothko no matter how much I want to, or at least not that he can be understood from my "impression" alone, I mentioned that I also have to write about my "impressions" of the buildings of the Milwaukee Art Museum themselves.

My notes, as I crossed the footbridge into the Calatrava:

fresh air, lake breeze
brise soleil
bright white reflects well vs. dour square non organic form of veterans memorial

And I even hesitate to mention the fresh air and the lake breeze just because it's so STUPID when written down. I mean, do I think it was a coincidence that Calatrava designed this big open building that looks like it might just sail onto the lake or take off in flight and he never once noticed how refreshing the lake breeze is on a nice day? Of course that's part of it. Do I have a non-defensive way of communicating that in my paper? No, no, I don't.

No wonder he shot himself.

I have this annoying assignment for my Understand Art course in which I have to write, in 3 full pages, double-spaced, my impressions of the Milwaukee Art Museum (both buildings) and one piece within the museum.  I have several problems with this assignment:

1. I am a very lazy person and am uninterested in this "homework" of which you speak.
2. My "impressions" of the museum are completely irrelevant given that I know nothing about architecture or art.  THAT is precisely why I am taking this course.  If you like, make it the final assignment on which I can use all that I have learned to more expertly give my opinions.
3. Yes, I assume the purpose of the exercise to convince ME that my opinions on things are just as valid, especially given a little time and effort toward the project.
4. But seriously, if you were dropped onto this planet after having lived your whole life in a vacuum, you might need some background on what this building is, what purpose it serves, and what all the things inside are/mean/represent/etc.
5. I know I wasn't just dropped in through a vacuum.
6. I don't like this professor.  He pages through the text and repeats the same lecture every day.
7. Again, I'm lazy.
8. Seriously though.  I chose a Mark Rothko painting on which to expound and while the painting seems to have left some sort of impression on me, I'm not sure I can turn that impression into words because it might just be the type of thing that words can't express.  (Isn't that what art is for?)
9. I guess I could say that in the paper.

Listen, bottom line is this:  I'm lazy, this teacher isn't teaching the way I prefer to be taught, and it's summer, and I'm 6 months pregnant, and I want to know art HISTORY before I'm forced to expound on art THEORY.  (Yes, I realize he just wants my personal impressions, but I am incapable of that level of personal attachment in academic writing.)

That blue looks a little sickly on my monitor, frankly.  The colors look better in person.  

Still, the Rothko painting was the only painting in the museum that particular day that I couldn't get out of my head.  I blame Simon Schama.  Here are the notes I took while viewing the painting:

color field

abstract expressionism

non objective

ground is blue

primary colors

not sure what I'm looking at but it stays with me

man approaches impatiently looks very closely @ painting, arms folded.  don't know what he's looking for.

no purposeful brushwork

texture - N/A

brushwork - N/A

color - all there is

saturated - yes

edges of rectangles are rough, not perfectly defined, eye creates rectangular shape

stays in mind like coming indoors on a very bright day

how did he choose his colors?

I don't understand this painting but I think I'm looking for something that isn't there.

None of that is meant to be poetic or profound.  That's exactly what I wrote, except I drew a box around "choose" up there instead of bold to emphasize the artist's conscious choice to my brain reading it later.

Six days later, further thoughts:

people who say "my kid could do that"

1. they don't say "I could do that" because they know they can't or instinctively know there's something there they could not create
   
2. Painting is deliberate, edges are rough but clear - children lack the control/decision-making - Rothko knew when he was done, made conscious decision to start, how to continue, when to end
   

Alright, fine, but still I feel like I've missed something.  I still don't *get* it.  Is there anything to get?  I certainly like the painting, but it bugs me, as do a lot of paintings when I start looking at them, not just non-objective abstract expressionist pieces.  I always get the impression (oh, there's that word) that a painting is trying to communicate some thought or idea or something to me, and that I don't speak the language.

Someone please tell me what I'm missing.