DIARY OF A BAD HOUSEWIFE - Part II *Not to be confused with the "Diary of a Bad Housewife" Blog by punk feminist Alice Bag WHICH I TOTALLY DIG!!*

All I can say is my little plastic dustpan has cracked under the strain. I've looked everywhere but can't seem to find one of those old-fashioned METAL dustpans. I don't want to keep spending money over and over again on cheap plastic housecleaning equipment. There should be good ones out there.

Actually, I can say one more thing. After my daughter's crispy toasted bagel crumbs were joined on the floor today by rich dark earth scattered out of the plant in the corner, I suddenly remembered why I resisted getting a cat for so long.

DIARY OF A BAD HOUSEWIFE - Part I*Not to be confused with the "Diary of a Bad Housewife" Blog by punk feminist Alice Bag WHICH I TOTALLY DIG!!*

Have got my cute little checklists all printed and posted up in appropriate places in the house. Thought I might get a jump start on that old devil "Spring Cleaning" but it looks like my tulips have beat me to the punch. Have also got a new pet in the house, a very stinky young ginger cat, and he has joined the conspiracy of my dog, my child and my husband to keep our house messy no matter what I do, or how many times I do it.

So I'm contemplating the role of the broom and of the act of sweeping in the life of, um, contemplation.

Like those monks, you know? Always sweeping the steps of the temple? It's a purely meditative state for them, and that's because there is no actual dirt to sweep. Just the rhythmic swish, swish of the broom across the ancient stone. The cleaning lady has already been through the temple with her vaccuum cleaner and assorted Swiffer products, and has gone home to do her laundry, clean her own house, put a yak in to roast, and play some Mah-jong with the girls.

At my house, as soon as I've cleared a space in which to place some small Zen-like meditative object, my husband comes in and empties his pockets. I suppose that's why I'm so attracted to the big cataclysmic overhaul that I mean when I say "Spring Cleaning." Just trying to keep on top of the clutter is not good enough. I want everything to change drastically, and forever, no going back to the dark (and dusty) ages.

Brooms, buckets, mops, dusters, fancy techno-cloth scrubbers, vinegar and baking soda, and so much more. I'll let you know how it goes.

Sciuridae, Charles “Chucky” Sr.

A shadow falls over our hearts as we announce the sudden passing of our beloved patriarch, at work, early on February 2, 2012. A dedicated seasonal forecaster and long-time supporter of the United Beavers and Land Beavers Workers’ Collective, Chucky Sr. was preparing to present his annual forecast when tragedy struck. Well respected in his professional field and meadow, Chucky also won acclaim in our community for his active role in the Royal Order of Rodentia.

Survived by Nibbles, loving wife of 32 days, and predeceased by wives Mellow, Cuddles, Daisy, BonBon, Eartha and Pudge; survived by doting children Charles Jr., Bella, Bonny, Woody, Bucky, Buddy, Carlson, Iggy, Rosie, Marmy, Alfred, Digger and Beatrix, as well as numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

An intimate family gathering will be held at The Burrow. In lieu of alfalfa and berries, donations to Research for Seasonal Affective Disorder will be gratefully accepted.

Star Trek vs. Space 1999

Star Trek: The Swinging Sixties
Space 1999: The Suck-a-delic Seventies

That's basically what it comes down to. The original Star Trek series may be a giant intergalactic ham and cheese sandwich, but it's fun, colourful, made by people who know how to do T.V. Space 1999 is kind of like Shaft Goes To Outer Space, Loses his Sense of Fashion, His Sense of Humour, His Mojo, and Everything Else Worth Having. He puts on his beige jumpsuit and platform shoes and heads straight to the nearest disco, where he collapses on a biege sofa in the sterile lounge of the Moon-base Alfalfa Sprout. Ladies with feathered hair and bad lip-gloss look on blandly from the computer display screen. Captain Kirk's mascara would be running right down into his snarling teeth.

Space 1999 is dull, beige, and made by people who do not know how to do T.V.... perhaps the British. It's hard to tell, nobody speaks clearly enough to have a discernible accent.

Ahh, yes, feels good to have the first rant of 2012 out of my system. Stay tuned for my next post, which will feature a FREE STORY originally appearing in Writer's Digest Holiday Story Exchange 2011. The stories exchanged were posted in a private blog open only to those who participated, so that we could guess who wrote which story, and to keep everybody's stuff private. But I'm very pleased with my story and want to share it. Is my self-satisfaction merited? Only you, my faithful reader(s) can say.

La Galerie Kenmore presents Turkeys and Ancestors



Installation View

  The installation view above shows a lively landscape with turkeys by my daughter. For some time, I had this painting/collage which includes sequins, hanging upside down on her wall. I had not realized those were turkeys, and thought it was a sort of stormy sky with two suns beaming down... or something. This piece is displayed together with my linocut image of water buffalo with skinny stick-figure primitive huntresses because both use strong, basic colour, both have a dark energy, and both feature bold, graphic animal shapes. The French class worksheet, La Chat et la Lune also happened to be on the fridge, because I love the cartoon drawings she did for this school assignment.

Hunting with the Ancestors, Linocut by Lori Gilbert

 I continue to be interested in goddess-type, ancient-looking female imagery, but these would be the skinniest I've ever drawn. This linocut was successful for me because everything worked well together and the registration for the three different colours was probably the best I managed to do, or will be likely to manage in the future.

Turkeys in a Landscape, mixed media by Emma Maki

La Chat et la Lune, school worksheet, Emma Maki

Note the details, such as the moon looking in the direction of the action in each scene, the expressiveness of the cat's tail, the double-head of the cat indicated that it is looking all around as the dog says, "What's happening?"

Hope you enjoy La Galerie Kenmore's latest exhibition. In my next post, I'm thinking of doing a rant about why Space: 1999 was such a dogawful show.

Follow that Link

I would like to take the time to draw attention to some of the blogs I follow, and to recommend that you check them out. My favourites are Slushpile Hell, Pub Rants, Motivation for Creation and Iron Bess of the East.

Iron Bess is an old friend of mine, who has recently moved from western Canada to the east coast, and she is chronicling the adventures of home-building, road-building, renovating, and much much more. She writes opinion essays as well, often with a lot of passion and humour, but what I like best are the glimpses into her new life out east. It's almost like a pioneer woman's journal, only more high-tech and smart-assed. It's also incredibly inspiring to witness just how much Iron Bess and her handyman husband accomplish when they get to work. Nothing is going to slow down this hard working pair.

Motivation for Creation is a blog for writers, but I think it has applications for any artist or craftsperson, anyone putting their hand to "creative" work. She often poses questions that help you sort out your own creative issues, and thus creates an interactive blog with lots of discussion among writers and artists. This blog also features a beautiful layout and a really nice little fishtank where you can feed the colourful fish by clicking your mouse button. Try it, it's fun and relaxing.

Pub Rants is a literary agent's blog, and there is a lot to like about it. She is smart, funny, honest, to the point, but always, as she says "a nice Midwestern girl." Meaning respectful and polite. The blog features numerous agent links and resources for writers, and insight into the mysterious world of successful query-letter writing.

Slushpile Hell is a jewel. It is an anonymous blog by a literary agent venting his/her rage and frustration at the stupendously dumbassed queries that show up in the "slush pile" of his/her agency. I'm assuming the blogger is a man from certain statements appearing in past postings, but I'm not committing to that. In any case, it's one of the funniest things I get to see on the internet. Better than Awkward Family Photos. Recently I was going through a depressed phase, and couldn't stop crying and moping. Then I opened up Slushpile Hell and just started scrolling through all the old posts, until I ended up laughing so hard my cheek muscles were like rocks and I almost peed. So there you go, one man's misery is another person's remedy.

Enjoy these blogs while they last, people! And hope you enjoy mine as well.

What's So Great About Eye Contact, Anyway?

Avoiding eye contact is disrespectful. It shows dishonesty. It shows respect. It’s polite. It is defiance of authority. It respects authority, and expresses an appropriate submissive attitude toward authority. Direct eye contact is honest and open, shows you have nothing to hide. It’s aggressive, a challenge to authority, invasive, impolite, a threat.

These statements about eye contact are contradictory because there are so many different things that can be communicated through eye contact, and there are so many different cultural/natural responses to eye contact. For numerous human cultures and animals from baboons to polar bears, direct eye contact is a display of aggression and/or disrespect.

How do you feel when someone is staring at you for a long time, and not trying to hide it? Do you interpret their stare as aggressive, hostile, defiant, invasive, or disrespectful? Or is the person caressing you or adoring you with their eyes? Romantic poetry and pop songs are full of the imagery of drowning in the lover’s eyes, getting lost in his or her gaze. The intimacy of the gaze or stare may be appropriate or inappropriate; neurotypical people seem to have an inborn ability to make that distinction.

There is a point of view that suggests that people with autism are not deficient in empathy but are in fact flooded and overwhelmed with it. It’s too much, and they have to turn away from others, and shut out the barrage of information and emotion. To look into someone’s eyes is far too personal and intense; not only the long, penetrating gaze, but the brief, day-to-day forms of eye contact. Many people on the autism spectrum can learn to tolerate some direct eye contact, which is essential in certain situations such as job interviews. But the interpretation of eye contact is subjective, and most people with autism or Asperger’s Syndrome are not keen on subjectivity; there are no grey areas, just black or white.

With my daughter, I’ve certainly seen a lot of stormy weather around the issue of subjectivity, and we talk a lot about “fact” versus “opinion.” She takes pride in having the skill to point out that something is an opinion rather than a fact. We talk about eye contact as a social skill, a part of good manners, something we use along with other tools like a nice tone of voice or a smile or polite words. It’s something to be learned and practised, but really only used in a limited way. We know it doesn’t come naturally, as for neurotypical kids, and we know it’s uncomfortable. The need to take in and interpret “eye” information also seems to distract from processing verbal information. By insisting that a child look at you when you are speaking, you may actually be shutting off their ability to hear you.

The neurotypical world assumes so much about a person and about the nature of the interaction, based on a narrow view of “eye contact.” Fortunately we live in a diverse culture that demands tolerance and acceptance of difference; and families affected by autism are at the forefront of challenging narrow views about thought processes, communication, and relationships.