Man, Instinct, Risk, Stupidity

Fables - The Dodos (mp3)
Dark Turn of Mind - Gillian Welch (mp3)

“It’s definitely too rough out here for your brother.”

One of the bigger indicators of gender is the inability to heed one’s own better wisdom. The better half has things called “mother’s instinct” or “women’s intuition,” and we act like this is because men don’t have the ability to foresee dangers or portend calamity.

But it’s not true. Men have tremendous intuition; they just ignore it.

Last week, after three days of overcast skies, three days of an oceanfront experience as if we were vacationing inside the caves of The Lost Sea, we were all desperate to squeeze out some cloudy time in the sand and sea. With my 3-year-old son on the shore building sand castles merely for the chance to stomp them, my daughters and I braved the testy tides. The choppy waves and strong undertow, tugging us northward, were great fun because they were just a bit risky.

My younger daughter, not quite yet 10, is the more cautious soul, and trepidation always accompanied her into the ocean. She’s a little too short and scrawny to fight the ocean pull, and she was having to work twice as hard to keep from drifting further away from us.

“I bet Turner will want to come out here,” she said. On our first day down, we had beaten the rain to the beach for a desperate hour of celebratory arrival swimming, and he had stayed glued to my shoulders or waist as we jumped waves. He'd loved it and been wigged out by it at the same time.

My response to her -- it's too rough for him -- was the right one. And it was obvious.

Hardly had the words drifted away from my mouth in the word balloon than I heard him at the water’s edge, calling out to me. “Come get me, Daddy! I wanna go!”

Twenty minutes later, as I stumbled and wobbled back to shore, Turner screaming and fighting to spit out all that salty nastiness from his mouth, my daughters both laughed at how quickly I had ignored my own observations, and I could only shrug in resignation.

Something in dads, in men, in boys, is desperate to downplay risk. And it doesn’t even have to be a “risk/reward” calculation. The reward for taking Turner out into the torrents was low at best. I would receive no medals. My son wouldn’t “cherish this moment for the rest of his life.” My in-laws and wife wouldn’t look out on the waves, crashing in above our heads, and then tilt their heads adoringly at each other with that “Isn’t that the greatest dad alive?” look on their faces.

Yet there I was, picking up my small child, pulling him into my waist and chest, and trudging out into the foamy tuggy waters.

I could have said no. He might have pouted or objected briefly, but I’m not the kind of dad who worries about that stuff. I render my children painfully disappointed and pouty all the time and never think twice about it.

But I wanted us out there, together, doing something a little risky and stupid and fun. No defense attorney, no psychologist in the world could rightly defend me.

We hadn’t gone 20 yards into the water when my decision paid off. A wave hit us so intensely that it buckled my knees, and I barely managed to prevent our mouths from taking in ocean. Turner thought it was hilarious, which made me proud and giddy. This was all the reward I was to receive. Soon after, a wave that seemed to curve at least three feet above my noble leap slammed into us, and it took intense focus to keep any kind of balance while keeping hold of my son.

As I recovered, and as I tried tending to his drenched face and screaming panic, I'd barely even cleared the water from my own eyes when another wave hit us full force, knocking me to my knees and Turner briefly under the water. This second attack did us in, and he was (understandably) inconsolable.

The reward for ignoring my instincts? A son it would take two days to coax and coddle back into the ocean.

Oh yeah, and that first wave knocked the glasses off my face. Didn't even know it until I got back to shore. I spent the rest of my vacation with only a pair of prescription sunglasses. Until I can get an eye appointment, I either wear my sunglasses at night, or I view the world in a strange blur.

Yay me and my instincts.

Why Mediocre Is Worse Than Bad

The Who--"Naked Eye" (mp3)

Let's say you're in Florida, on vacation, you don't feel like cooking, the kids want Italian, so you think about this little place you've driven or walked past numerous times, always intrigued because the menu offers some things different from the standard Italian fare. So, you check it out on the Internet, read some reviews on TripAdvisor and Yelp and what have you, just to reassure yourself about this new place, because you do have stand-bys and old favorites, but the kids don't want to go there.

So, off you go, drive downtown. You walk in on a Thursday night. It isn't too crowded, but there's energy, a vibe. You are seated. Your waitress has an intriguing accent. You are charmed. You like the vibe.

The menu prices are probably 1 1/2 times what you expect to pay at an Italian place, but you shrug that off, expecting a special meal and pleased that you have pleased your girls. You look for something mid-range and find something intriguing: Chicken Scallopini with Tomatoes and Smoked Mozzarella. The girls order a variation of their usual pasta. You attempt to confirm the waitress' Russian accent, only to find out that she is Brazilian, with a German father. Not what you expected.

You and the girls work through a small loaf of homemade bread while you wait.

When the food comes, you don't think it's for your table, because one of the entrees is a stacked tower and you know that no one ordered that. But, it is placed down in front of you, layers of cheese, and tomatoes, and chicken, skewered by a sprig of rosemary and surrounding by julienned vegetables and a light sauce. Wow, you think.

Your first reaction is to take a picture of it. This, you think, is going to be something. And you pick up your knife and fork with pride.

But that's where it ends. As you cut into it, you discover that it is cheese, layer of tomato, another layer of tomato, smallish piece of chicken, layer of tomato, slightly larger piece of chicken, layer of tomato, julienned vegetables. Ah, you figure, so maybe they should have named it Tomatoes and Smoked Mozzarella with Scallops of Chicken. Or scallop-sized. But, what the heck, you like tomatoes, it will be fine. The girls are enjoying their pasta. But when you finally put the tomato in your mouth, you think, wait a second, this tomato is barely ripe. In fact, as you deconstruct your tower, you realize that all of the tomatoes are no better than a washed-out pink. In the middle of the summer in the Sunshine State, a state where you bragged about the tomatoes just days before.

And, at that point, you are stuck with a mediocre meal. See, the problem is that if it were truly bad, you would be motivated to do something about it. If the chicken wasn't cooked through, if the taste was off, you'd call the waitress over and send it back. But not as much chicken as you'd expect, tomatoes not as ripe as what you are used to, what are you going to do? The restaurants of America are full of unripe tomatoes. We take them for granted.

You think, hey, if you're making to make tomatoes the star of your dish, they better be damn good tomatoes! Right? Well, maybe not. That's your vision. You know that great chefs search out the best ingredients they can find. But you are in Venice, Florida, where the thinking may be to get the biggest tomatoes they can find so that they can build their tower.

Because here's the problem: mediocre is somebody's vision of good or good enough or acceptable.

Believe it. I saw the owner or chef out in the room chatting with other customers that he knew, relaxed, comfortable about his place. There's no way he originally set up shop thinking 'I'm going start a mediocre upscale Italian restaurant.' It just ended up that way. The girls' pasta--perfectly fine, but uninspired. Maybe the best the place or the current chef can conceive. Maybe it's what the "locals" like to eat. Maybe because he's a local himself, he gets enough compliments about his food that he believes it.

If you find yourself sitting in the middle of it, you begin to question yourself. Am I a snob? Everyone around me seems perfectly satisfied with their food. Even though you know, just from the decisions made about the food at your table that it's decent at best. But you do question yourself.

And that's why mediocre is worse than bad. Bad demands action; mediocre inspires complacency. Maybe no one acts on the bad, but at least they know it exists. The mediocre, though, well, they just blend in. Here's my theory: if you ever want to bring down an empire, a country, an institution, a team, or even a restaurant, get its loyal people to accept mediocrity. They will lose their standards. They will lose their way. They will pay and leave and forget about it.

Home Offices and Craft Rooms Part II

Hey there...  It's Friday, yay! 
Isn't that chair above absolutely gorrrrrrgeous!?  I want one, now!

Today I have Part II of Home Offices and Craft Rooms and believe me, these images are going to make you itch to revamp your work space!! Right now I'm thinking about going home and converting an armoire into a dreamy little office/craft center. I don't know about you, but if I don't have a beautiful chaotic mess of a workspace I can't work! Hehehehe... And by chaotic I mean full of little inspiration clippings, photos, vintage teacups and dishes full of beads, paints and charms, mugs and vases full of pens, pencils, color pencils, markers and of course - paint brushes! I could go on a never-ending descriptive rant here and paint you the perfect picture of what I mean, or you could just check out the first image in this post on my old apartment when for months my dining room table was happily infected with crazy craft mania!

Enjoy these gorgeous spaces and, as a woman in my office building laughingly exclaimed as she saw me dash out of the elevator towards the parking garage yesterday after work said, "May the force be with you!!" Hahahaha... yeah, it's true, she thought it was hilarious that I was in such a hurry to get out of the building and go home that she laughed and said "Damn girl, you're in a hurry huh!?" and I laughed "Yes, can't you tell by the way I'm flying outta here, I never leave on time so I'm happy!" and she said "You don't have to explain, just go! Go! May the force be with you!!" and then we both cracked up. Corny story, I know, but it was funny! Besides, it's nice to experience such friendly camaraderie with a stranger because these days that's becoming rare, at least in Miami! So yes, may the force be with you, the force of inspiration and creativity! Go and create wonderful things and have a great weekend!

You might also like:
Home Office and Craft Rooms Part I
Pretty in Pink!
Bright and Fresh Colors
Designing With Maps
Decor Desire: Card Catalogs
Artful Arrangements Part I
Artful Arrangements Part II
Beautiful Wall Decor and Art: Plates Part I
Beautiful Wall Decor and Art: Plates Part II

(All images sourced via Google images, Pinterest, Martha Stewart or where otherwise noted in the image file name.)

A Fear Of Fish

YACHT--"Dystopia (The World Is On Fire)" (mp3)

The pervasive fear (or dislike--we hate what we fear) of fish is not all that hard to understand for someone of my generation. Raised on an only-occasional fish diet of casseroles or loafs that contained either canned tuna or canned salmon, a child didn't have too many encounters with fish, and, likely, none of them pleasant. Only my mother, among the people and restaurants I knew, had the ability or, really, patience to get the fishy taste out of a can of tuna.

On the rare occasions that an actual piece of "fresh" fish appeared on the dinner table, we all knew that we were doomed to an evening of conflict. My dad loved fish and doesn't have a good sense of smell and so every once in awhile we had to indulge his desire. But the problem with children is that they aren't going to willingly eat something that doesn't taste good to them. And they definitely aren't going to eat something that tastes dead. And, in those "clean your plate" years, their parents are going to try to make them do it anyway.

But kids are so full of life. Why would they want to eat something that was so clearly, noticeably, advertisingly dead?

That's what we're talking about, isn't it? That fishy smell? It smells dead. It smells like living creatures that have been out of the water too long and have started to turn. One experience with that smell and taste combo and you're pretty much done with fish. Maybe forever. My wife continues not to like salmon for that very reason. Of all of the fish you can get your hands on, salmon is the one most likely to taste fishy.

Each year, my daughter comes down to this condo in Florida with a friend. Inevitably, given the plethora of waterfront restaurants around here, the talk turns to fish. This year's friend was the most blunt of all:

ME: Ame, do you eat fish?
HER: I'm afraid of fish. They scare me. I don't really have anything to do with them. I don't get near them.

I don't think there will be any waterfront dining in the near future.

But, you know, you get into any group of people, especially adults, and it is almost a certainty that that one or more of them won't like fish. The phobia is pervasive, probably justified, and hard to counter. It can really shut down your options when you're in a place like New Orleans or Florida. It can really undermine suggestions that a healthy diet should be based around fish as a primary protein.

The end-around is seafood. Plenty of people who didn't like fish will, like me, find their way back to sea through 2 related paths: 1) shellfish, and 2) frying. Especially if you put the two together. My parents convinced me to try fried shrimp, which back in the 60's, was a legitimate entree in an upscale restaurant, and then crab cakes and then grilled shrimp, and, of course, lobster. Fry something or dip it in enough butter, and, it will taste good. Plus, McDonald's, for all their flaws, made the fish sandwich a pervasive fast food offering. Which makes the 3rd related path: cheese. Let's not just fry fish. Let's put cheese on it. And tartar sauce.

Once you realize you can eat fish, you can order dishes that have crab piled on top of them, probably with some kind of buttery sauce. But the great irony is that to get people to like fish, it has to not taste like fish. Which isn't really true. It has to not taste like what they think fish tastes like. Which is fishy. And, to this day, people like me take the first bite of their beautifully-prepared fish tentatively. Is it really fresh?

Had I not moved south nearly 30 years ago, I doubt I would have become a lover of fish. The shocking discovery that catfish and tilapia, whether fried or not, didn't taste like fish opened the door. From there, getting to taste other fresh offerings--the redfish or drum in New Orleans, the grouper in Florida, whatever was on the menu at the Bonefish Grill (best chain in America?)--gets one to the point where they will order a piece of fish for its own sake, for its own taste. For fresh fish, like most great foods, is at its absolute best when prepared simply, not when hidden under sauce.

Still, I know people in my Southern neighborhood, older than I am, who gave up on fish 50 years ago. Certainly, they have not let it touch their lips willingly in the interim. I doubt anything can change that at this point. Which seems a shame in our increasingly-global American cuisine.

The funny thing is that my daughter and her fish-hating friends do eat fish. Sushi, after all, is the new fried shrimp, the new gateway to the sea. Put small pieces of fish in a roll with some cucumber and some cream cheese, maybe with some soy, ginger, and wasabi, and, hey, that's not too bad. Plus, call it sushi and maybe people will forget it's fish. So, I doubt we'll be having grouper on the wharf this week, but I can guarantee you that we'll be eating rolls at Bushido.

Blue Teddy's Bazaar: Suzanis and Kilims!

Hey hey hey!

As I mentioned a few weeks back there are several talented artists and decor sources that I want to share with you... well here goes the first...

Blue Teddy's Bazaar is a shop from the online community of artists called Etsy that sells vintage hand woven kilims and suzanis from Central Asia. The curator of this lovely bazaar full of vibrant tribal textiles, throws and rugs lives in York, England and her name is Rhonda - a creative soul with a degree in Art and Design specializing in ceramics. Rhonda has a great love for many creative things, particularly home decor, woven fabrics, crafted goods, wood and British, American and French retro style. It's no wonder she is drawn to the unique beauty and craftsmanship of kilims and suzanis! In fact, in her profile she says "...these treasures from the East can transform your home or your office, bringing it drama, colour, ambience and cosiness, regardless of whether you live in a spacious loft, a flat, a normal house or a country mansion." Well, that about sums it up - I couldn't have said it better myself Rhonda!

In case you don't know, a suzani is a hand-stitched/embroidered textile made in Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries - its name derives from the Persian word Suzan, which means needle. A Kilim (or Kelim) is considered a woven tapestry or rug originating anywhere from the Balkans to Pakistan, and can be purely decorative or used as a prayer rug.

After dedicating a whole week of blog posts to suzanis in 2010, dubbed "Suzani and Ikat Week," I'm sure you've noticed how much I love ethnic textiles! Suzanis and kilims have a way of adding endless character and eclectic global vibes to any space! With that said, scroll on for some of my favorite suzanis and kilims (mostly suzani's, hehe) from Rhonda's beautiful store and be sure to drop by Blue Teddy's Bazaar and check out the rest of her inventory from Kurdistan, Uzbekistan and Afghanistan - she's adding new treasures all the time! For more posts and information on suzanis and kilims please see the related post links below.... Have a wonderful afternoon!

Related blog posts:
Suzani and Ikat Week
Suzani in Detail
Suzani and Ikat: Tables, Chairs, Sofas and Beds
Bokja Design: Suzani + Furniture + Heaven!
Pakobel, Inc. Handmade Rugs and Tapestries from the East
Ikat and Suzani Pillows
All posts labeled suzani
All posts labeled kilim
All posts labeled ethnic textiles




(Also pictured in detail in image at beginning of post)
This is my favorite suzani in the shop, gorgeous colors!
Suzani from Uzbekistan

Suzani from Uzbekistan

Suzani from Shakhrisabz, Uzbekistan



Suzani from Boysun, Uzbekistan
This one is so fun!!



Suzani from Boysun, Uzbekistan


Suzani from Boysun, Uzbekistan



Suzani from Kosan, Uzbekistan


Another stunningly vibrant and amazing Suzani from Uzbekistan!


And now, for my two favorite kilims on Blue Teddy's Bazaar....

Another beautiful kilim design from Maimana, Afghanistan...


Great colors and a pretty ikat design!! This one hails from Afghanistan....


(All images sourced via Blue Teddy's Bazaar Etsy shop with permission from store owner, please do not use images without permission, contact Rhonda through her Etsy shop.)