I love a well spun mystery but I hate reading novels filled with graphic gore, sex, and violence. That causes a conundrum when it comes to reading modern whodunits, so when I have a yen for mystery I turn to G.K. Chesterton, Dorothy Sayers, or Agatha Christie, all authors from the last century.
Then I met P.D. James. Phyllis Dorothy James White is an British Crime novelist who spent 30 years working in the British Civil Service, including the Police and Criminal Law department. She did not write and publish her first novel until her late 30s, but is now the author of more than 20 books. She was created Baroness James of Holland Park in 1991, and was inducted into the International Crime Writing Hall of Fame in 2008. She is 92 years old.
I was completely ignorant of her work until reading a review last month in the Wall Street Journal of her latest book Death Comes to Pemberley. A continuation of Jane Austen's famous novel Pride and Prejudice with a mysterious death at it's core, the novel is a classic mystery story that draws the reader along with a tight plot, unanswered questions dangled in all the right places, and the loose ends tied in a tidy bow at the end. Ms. James admits that she cannot touch Jane Austen's mastery of phrase and form, but her story is a delightful coda to the Austen cannon of literature and will entertain even those unfamiliar with Jane Austen's work.
If the rest of P.D. James stories are as good as Death Comes to Pemberley, I will soon be a devout fan. Her Adam Dalgliesh series, beginning with Cover Her Face, is next on my reading list. The verdict will soon follow.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Who is "The Artist"?
Hollywood's award season is in full swing and names and titles of nominees and winners are whirling around online and in print. One that is gaining speed leading up to the Academy Awards is The Artist--an artful and charming rendition of pride's destructive force and love's redeeming power.
The director, Michael Hazanavicius, builds on this archetypal storyboard with layer after layer of subtle metaphor, outstanding photography, brilliant use of motion, and a dazzling musical score, written by Ludovic Bource. Set in the Hollywood glory days of the late 1920s, the film tells the story of a silent movie star, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), who refuses to recognize the technological ascendency of talking movies and pours his heart and fortune into a large production silent film.
Valentin's movie premiers just days after he loses everything in the infamous 1929 stock market crash and he hopes beyond reason that his film will be a box office hit. Also premiering that night is a highly billed "talkie," starring the dashing Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a plucky young actress who owes her success in the movies to a helping hand from Valentin, with whom she shares a few magnetic moments on film and an inappropriate flirtatious tête-à-tête . Peppy's talking film outshines Valentin's silent drama and her fame eventually eclipses his.
Valentin stumbles to the brink of despair, losing his fortune, his home, and his wife as a result of his pride and his refusal to talk. Peppy remains his secret and faithful admirer and it is her love and confidence that eventually restores him. With her help, he rehangs his star in the cinema firmament and shows the world a new side of George Valentin.
This story, though silent and in black and white is truly resonant. We have all experienced the results of pride and the redeeming power of love, and we, like Valentin, are living in tension between old and new technology and experiencing the rise and fall of careers and industries as a result. The Artist undoubtedly hits a vibrant chord.
Hats off to Mr. Hazanavicius who displayed a marvelous mastery of his medium, quietly drawing a 21st century audience, awash in 3D and surround sound into a black and white silent movie about the demise of silent movies and Everyman's tale of pride and redemption. He is truly The Artist.
The director, Michael Hazanavicius, builds on this archetypal storyboard with layer after layer of subtle metaphor, outstanding photography, brilliant use of motion, and a dazzling musical score, written by Ludovic Bource. Set in the Hollywood glory days of the late 1920s, the film tells the story of a silent movie star, George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), who refuses to recognize the technological ascendency of talking movies and pours his heart and fortune into a large production silent film.
Valentin's movie premiers just days after he loses everything in the infamous 1929 stock market crash and he hopes beyond reason that his film will be a box office hit. Also premiering that night is a highly billed "talkie," starring the dashing Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a plucky young actress who owes her success in the movies to a helping hand from Valentin, with whom she shares a few magnetic moments on film and an inappropriate flirtatious tête-à-tête . Peppy's talking film outshines Valentin's silent drama and her fame eventually eclipses his.
Valentin stumbles to the brink of despair, losing his fortune, his home, and his wife as a result of his pride and his refusal to talk. Peppy remains his secret and faithful admirer and it is her love and confidence that eventually restores him. With her help, he rehangs his star in the cinema firmament and shows the world a new side of George Valentin.
This story, though silent and in black and white is truly resonant. We have all experienced the results of pride and the redeeming power of love, and we, like Valentin, are living in tension between old and new technology and experiencing the rise and fall of careers and industries as a result. The Artist undoubtedly hits a vibrant chord.
Hats off to Mr. Hazanavicius who displayed a marvelous mastery of his medium, quietly drawing a 21st century audience, awash in 3D and surround sound into a black and white silent movie about the demise of silent movies and Everyman's tale of pride and redemption. He is truly The Artist.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Counting Down to 2012
The week between Christmas and New Year's can be a bit of a downer, especially after the all excitement and anticipation leading up to the 25th. Thankfully though, if you call the Phoenix Area home or are visiting our diverse and expansive Valley of the Sun, you will find that there are plenty of things to keep you and yours busy in the final countdown to 2012. Here are multiple ideas ranging from free to a little past pricey but worth the payout.
Free
Climb Camelback Mountain
Visit the Zelma Basha Salmeri Gallery of Western American and Native American Art, Chandler
Take the kids to Playtopia at Tumbleweed Park in Chandler
$
Burn out some energy with the kids at Jumpstreet in Chandler
Tour Shamrock Farms and get a free ice cream coupon if you "like" them on Facebook
Tour Cerretta's Candy Factory, Glendale
Take a night ride under the Christmas Lights at the McCormick-Stillman Railroad Park, Scottsdale
Attend a Puppet Show at the Great Arizona Puppet Theater, Phoenix
Enjoy a class of wine at the new Vintage 95 restaurant and wine bar at 95 W. Boston St., Chandler
$$
See the Real Pirates exhibit at the Arizona Science Center
Tour the Frank Lloyd Wright: Organic Architecture for the 21st Century exhibit at the Phoenix Art Museum
Experience Las Noches De Las Luminarias at the Phoenix Desert Botanical Gardens
$$$
Go see Daddy Long Legs at the Herberger Theater
Have fun keeping busy and have a Happy New Year!
Free
Climb Camelback Mountain
Visit the Zelma Basha Salmeri Gallery of Western American and Native American Art, Chandler
Take the kids to Playtopia at Tumbleweed Park in Chandler
$
Burn out some energy with the kids at Jumpstreet in Chandler
Tour Shamrock Farms and get a free ice cream coupon if you "like" them on Facebook
Tour Cerretta's Candy Factory, Glendale
Take a night ride under the Christmas Lights at the McCormick-Stillman Railroad Park, Scottsdale
Attend a Puppet Show at the Great Arizona Puppet Theater, Phoenix
Enjoy a class of wine at the new Vintage 95 restaurant and wine bar at 95 W. Boston St., Chandler
$$
See the Real Pirates exhibit at the Arizona Science Center
Tour the Frank Lloyd Wright: Organic Architecture for the 21st Century exhibit at the Phoenix Art Museum
Experience Las Noches De Las Luminarias at the Phoenix Desert Botanical Gardens
$$$
Go see Daddy Long Legs at the Herberger Theater
Have fun keeping busy and have a Happy New Year!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Tidy and Bright
I've discovered that life is far more cheerful when things are tidy, though they never seem tidy enough. Alexander Pope said "order is heaven's first law," but I find that hard to achieve in the home.
The bathrooms and the kitchen may be clean but the living room is a menagerie of toys, socks, clothes, jackets, and rumpled pillows, not to mention crushed graham crackers, dust bunnies, and enough sand for an indoor beach. When that is remedied, I am still faced with heaps of laundry and envelopes full of decisions- read, pay, save, shred? It never ends.
Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project offered some very practical tips on keeping clutter under control in her article from the January 2012 issue of Good Housekeeping. She has a "one-minute rule" and does whatever tasks she can in one minute- pick up shoes, put something back in a drawer, wipe off the counter.
"With the one-minute rule, I can choose to do anything that needs doing, without delay, as long as I can do it within a minute," she wrote.
Her second suggestion is to tidy up the house before going to bed. She suggests doing a quick pick up of toys, coats, pillows, etc. so that the next day begins in an orderly fashion. I think this is especially helpful as a mom of young children. The house may look like mayhem by dinner, but once the little lambs are in bed, I can do a quick pick up and my world is sane once more.
A 10 item pick-up is another wonderful idea for keeping things orderly. Diana Smith, mother of nine and grandmother of seven, uses this technique when toys are strewn pell-mell around the room. Calling the children, she asks each of them to pick up 10 items- blocks, cars, puzzle pieces, or a combination of them all. By the time everyone picks up their 10 items, the mess has disappeared. Poof!
After the clutter is gone and you can finally see your furniture, try using 19th Century British textile designer William Morris' paradigm for a tidy home: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.
It's also important to realize that a house will never be in perfect order and that's o.k. Mary Lou Smith, a native Arizonan, farm wife of over 50 years, mother of six, grandmother of 22, and great-grandmother of seven offered a very wise nugget of housekeeping wisdom- Keep a house clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy.
I'll raise my glass to that one and to keeping our homes beautiful, useful, tidy, and happy this Christmas season.
Cheers!
The bathrooms and the kitchen may be clean but the living room is a menagerie of toys, socks, clothes, jackets, and rumpled pillows, not to mention crushed graham crackers, dust bunnies, and enough sand for an indoor beach. When that is remedied, I am still faced with heaps of laundry and envelopes full of decisions- read, pay, save, shred? It never ends.
Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project offered some very practical tips on keeping clutter under control in her article from the January 2012 issue of Good Housekeeping. She has a "one-minute rule" and does whatever tasks she can in one minute- pick up shoes, put something back in a drawer, wipe off the counter.
"With the one-minute rule, I can choose to do anything that needs doing, without delay, as long as I can do it within a minute," she wrote.
Her second suggestion is to tidy up the house before going to bed. She suggests doing a quick pick up of toys, coats, pillows, etc. so that the next day begins in an orderly fashion. I think this is especially helpful as a mom of young children. The house may look like mayhem by dinner, but once the little lambs are in bed, I can do a quick pick up and my world is sane once more.
A 10 item pick-up is another wonderful idea for keeping things orderly. Diana Smith, mother of nine and grandmother of seven, uses this technique when toys are strewn pell-mell around the room. Calling the children, she asks each of them to pick up 10 items- blocks, cars, puzzle pieces, or a combination of them all. By the time everyone picks up their 10 items, the mess has disappeared. Poof!
After the clutter is gone and you can finally see your furniture, try using 19th Century British textile designer William Morris' paradigm for a tidy home: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.
It's also important to realize that a house will never be in perfect order and that's o.k. Mary Lou Smith, a native Arizonan, farm wife of over 50 years, mother of six, grandmother of 22, and great-grandmother of seven offered a very wise nugget of housekeeping wisdom- Keep a house clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be happy.
I'll raise my glass to that one and to keeping our homes beautiful, useful, tidy, and happy this Christmas season.
Cheers!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Listen Softly to the Night
Every year the little white house gets dressed for Christmas quite early. She spends the blazing summer afternoons dreaming of how lovely she will look in her Christmas sparkles and breezes through autumn with hopes of new apparel for the most glorious season of the year.
As soon as the last bite of Thanksgiving turkey disappears, her Christmas finery is unwrapped. There are boxes of garlands and barrels of wreaths. Yards of ribbon and dozens of ornaments. Best of all is her box of jewels- strand after strand of colorful, sparkling lights, collars and cuffs of gold stars, and reindeer and elves that shimmer like diamonds.
Just opening the lid makes her smile. She shivers with excitement as each piece is carefully taken out and gently put in its place. Sometimes things need polished or repaired, so that is done too.
With each strand, the little house feels a bit prettier and a trifle more brave. She is a happy little house, though not excessively bold. But when everything is done and her jewels burn against the dark coldness of the night, she finds her voice and boldly sings the song all things beautiful and bright sing at Christmas- a birthday anthem for the King.
You can hear them singing if you listen softly to the night.
S.L. Perrault
As soon as the last bite of Thanksgiving turkey disappears, her Christmas finery is unwrapped. There are boxes of garlands and barrels of wreaths. Yards of ribbon and dozens of ornaments. Best of all is her box of jewels- strand after strand of colorful, sparkling lights, collars and cuffs of gold stars, and reindeer and elves that shimmer like diamonds.
Just opening the lid makes her smile. She shivers with excitement as each piece is carefully taken out and gently put in its place. Sometimes things need polished or repaired, so that is done too.
With each strand, the little house feels a bit prettier and a trifle more brave. She is a happy little house, though not excessively bold. But when everything is done and her jewels burn against the dark coldness of the night, she finds her voice and boldly sings the song all things beautiful and bright sing at Christmas- a birthday anthem for the King.
You can hear them singing if you listen softly to the night.
S.L. Perrault
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A Throwback
I'm going retro. It's very chic right now and I think I'm going to join the party and re-popularize the outhouse. Yes, that's correct, the o-u-t-h-o-u-s-e. It's truly a fantastic invention. It accomplishes a much needed purpose while removing unnecessary unpleasantness from daily life. Don't worry, I would modernize it with running water, a sink, an automatic soap dispenser, a drain in the floor, and a locking lid. Or maybe, I could just get the toilets I have outfitted with a locking lid?
Let me explain: two weeks ago bathroom gremlins cast a terrible curse on us resulting in more toilet mishaps than we've had in the last six years. The soggy saga began one morning when I was doing chores and trying to unpack. McKenzie and Harper were giggling and bumping around together, working hard to get into mischief. I unpacked an entire box before realizing the house was impishly quiet and I hadn't said "no" or "don't touch your sister" for several minutes, a sure sign something undesirable is underfoot.
Off I went in search of them. The front rooms were quiet, the hall bedrooms were silent, and there was no one in the guest bathroom. I dashed to the master bedroom- not in the closet, not under the bed. All that was left was the master bathroom. They weren't in the shower and the linen closet was empty. Then I heard little laughs coming from inside the water closet. Yanking open the door, I found Harper dunking a stuffed animal in and out of the toilet, chortling with delight. McKenzie was just standing there, "watching," she said, "to make sure Harper didn't get hurt." Ahhh...life is beautiful!
A few days later we had an impromptu Costco pizza party at Fairview with my side of the family. We were sitting around telling stories after dinner when I noticed Harper toddling around with a white dripping wet... piece of something. I grabbed her and dashed down the hall. Sure enough, the bathroom door was open and toilet paper was festively draped into the commode, sparkling drops of water were decorating the seat and floor, trailing down the hall and out into the family room. Bleach!
I'm going to decoupage a plaque that reads-
Welcome to our bathroom. Leaving the door open could cause your demise.
Even that sign wouldn't have prevented the final episode of the saga which occurred 24 hours later, a result of the culturally-pervasive "energy efficient" movement. First, a little background: after getting the keys to Fairview, we replaced the old commodes with high efficiency/low water use units. I'm beginning to think they are really low efficiency/high water use as many times as they have to be flushed.
Anyway, I was gone all day Saturday and returned at 5 that evening to discover another disaster. Poor McKenzie had inadvertently used too much toilet paper and clogged the low water use commode. It revenged itself by highly efficiently overflowing and I was greeted with a bucket, Clorox, and rubber gloves. Why, oh why, oh why?
Underneath the plaque, I'm adding an addendum on correct facility usage, or maybe it would be better to teach a crash course.
Welcome to our home, please step this way for your very own class on the proper OSHA method of using our restroom.
Not very inviting is it? I'd rather go old school and re-popularize the outhouse. What's not to like- everything outside, away from the baby, where overflows can be cleaned up with a hose? Plus, I would never have to run a mad dash doing door checks, I wouldn't have to teach a commode usage class, and I could re-purpose the space for something else entirely- like a private sanitarium.
Let me explain: two weeks ago bathroom gremlins cast a terrible curse on us resulting in more toilet mishaps than we've had in the last six years. The soggy saga began one morning when I was doing chores and trying to unpack. McKenzie and Harper were giggling and bumping around together, working hard to get into mischief. I unpacked an entire box before realizing the house was impishly quiet and I hadn't said "no" or "don't touch your sister" for several minutes, a sure sign something undesirable is underfoot.
Off I went in search of them. The front rooms were quiet, the hall bedrooms were silent, and there was no one in the guest bathroom. I dashed to the master bedroom- not in the closet, not under the bed. All that was left was the master bathroom. They weren't in the shower and the linen closet was empty. Then I heard little laughs coming from inside the water closet. Yanking open the door, I found Harper dunking a stuffed animal in and out of the toilet, chortling with delight. McKenzie was just standing there, "watching," she said, "to make sure Harper didn't get hurt." Ahhh...life is beautiful!
A few days later we had an impromptu Costco pizza party at Fairview with my side of the family. We were sitting around telling stories after dinner when I noticed Harper toddling around with a white dripping wet... piece of something. I grabbed her and dashed down the hall. Sure enough, the bathroom door was open and toilet paper was festively draped into the commode, sparkling drops of water were decorating the seat and floor, trailing down the hall and out into the family room. Bleach!
I'm going to decoupage a plaque that reads-
Welcome to our bathroom. Leaving the door open could cause your demise.
Even that sign wouldn't have prevented the final episode of the saga which occurred 24 hours later, a result of the culturally-pervasive "energy efficient" movement. First, a little background: after getting the keys to Fairview, we replaced the old commodes with high efficiency/low water use units. I'm beginning to think they are really low efficiency/high water use as many times as they have to be flushed.
Anyway, I was gone all day Saturday and returned at 5 that evening to discover another disaster. Poor McKenzie had inadvertently used too much toilet paper and clogged the low water use commode. It revenged itself by highly efficiently overflowing and I was greeted with a bucket, Clorox, and rubber gloves. Why, oh why, oh why?
Underneath the plaque, I'm adding an addendum on correct facility usage, or maybe it would be better to teach a crash course.
Welcome to our home, please step this way for your very own class on the proper OSHA method of using our restroom.
Not very inviting is it? I'd rather go old school and re-popularize the outhouse. What's not to like- everything outside, away from the baby, where overflows can be cleaned up with a hose? Plus, I would never have to run a mad dash doing door checks, I wouldn't have to teach a commode usage class, and I could re-purpose the space for something else entirely- like a private sanitarium.
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