Author Archives: Jane Bretl

making faces

18 Saturday Jul 2009

Posted by in Photography, something important, I'm sure

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Perhaps it was a function of the pace of our recent vacation;  perhaps I was just randomly delirious — but I kept seeing faces in unexpected places.  I’ve noticed before that, particularly when I travel, I will suddenly recognize a face in a crowd, then realize it is just someone who looks like someone I know, but not really.  I guess my pesky brain tries so hard to put the familiar back into the unfamiliar when I am out of my comfort zone.  Those, however, are actually faces.

Turns out I am making stuff up all the time.  According to an article from Learnhub, “Sensor vs. Eye – What’s the Difference?, when we think about “seeing” something, we are actually talking about the “eye-brain” system that adds lots of post-processing to what actually comes in the eye.

“Outside that very narrow range, our brain fills in a lot of the details that we think we see from moment to moment, but is actually not being “seen” in the same sense as what’s in the center of view. (Of course, this comment will inevitably beget the philosophical discussion: what does it mean to “see,” exactly?)”

The article goes on to make interesting comparisons to what a camera “sees” and how a photographic image differs from the picture we take in our brain.  (Wow!  This is almost as interesting as the Quantum Physics Theory of Missing Socks!)

Apparently I have a busy post-processor, because it fills in lots of details.  If only my memory was as detail-oriented.  The good news is that I saw more smiley faces in inanimate objects than I saw frowns.  I think that is a good sign.

smiley treesmiley meter

a year of no watch

17 Friday Jul 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, something important, I'm sure, Writing

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It is the one year anniversary of my decision to stop wearing a watch.

This would, on the surface, appear to be an illogical decision.  Those who know me personally know that I have long been habitually late.  I would joke that I arrived two weeks after my due date (true, my poor mother), and I never made up the lost time.  Actually, I became 15 minutes late around seventh grade, and maintained that 15 minutes of tardiness for the next 30 years.  It is not really a joke though — it is disrespectful to all those around me who have to wait for my idiosyncrasies to arrive where I am supposed to be.  It also does not set a very good example for my kids.  Jeez, how hard can it be to just get somewhere on time?

Without a lot of bothersome self-deprecating commentary here, I do think The Tardinesss is related to perfectionism.  I would always glance at my watch and think I must accomplish just this one more thing before I needed to ________ (insert deadline here).  A lethal mix when combined with a sketchy sense of time management and a strong propensity to procrastinate.

So, last summer, I took off my watch and vowed to change a life-long bad habit.  Without the crutch of glancing at my wrist and thinking “oh, I must do that before I go”, I had to consciously:

1)  seek out the actual time

THEN

2)  make choices for what to do next

Occasionally, if I can not find a clock (and my cell phone is once again inexplicably dead),  I will still ask strangers for the time.  Most people actually look happy to tell me, like it reminds them of a time-gone-by when people actually talked to one another and made eye contact.  To increase my chances of a pleasant encounter, I do tend to seek out those who are not texting at the time.

I spent the first weeks of this experiment continuing to look down at my wrist only to see it was a hair past a freckle.  But somewhere along the way I found (some of) my lost 15 minutes.  I am now only occasionally late, sometimes ON TIME, and a few times I have shocked people by being early.  It feels good.  It is a time-management work in progress.

I recently found a great article with some tips on how to be on time.  Author Dustin Wax shares “10 Ways to Make Yourself More Punctual“.  I am going to incorporate more of these nifty tricks into my routine.  Just FYI, Dustin is also the author of a useful blog The Writer’s Technology Companion.

And, of course, I need to be remember not to let the pendulum swing too far to the other side.  As usual, Gretchen Rubin at the Happiness Project provides excellent perspective, this time for not being too rigid about being on time.  She has the opposite problem of never being tardy, but her advice still brings balance to my quest.

So, not sporting a watch is working for me.  After wearing one for 30 years, its conspicuous absence is like a string tied around my finger, except with less blood flow restriction.  I still have my cuckoo clock, but that does not count, not just because I do not wear it on my wrist, but because it does not actually keep time.  It just keeps ticking, which keeps me clicking (on the keys…)

Now if only I could mail cards to arrive on (or before) the desired date… hhhmmmm, maybe it is that crutch, the calendar…?

evolutionary art

10 Friday Jul 2009

Posted by in Photography

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Nature is the ultimate artist.

who came up with this design?

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Even if the art is evolutionary camouflage, it is still impressive in design.

whoa

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This little guy also has a spiffy design — but from now on, every time I hear the phrase “it could come back to bite you in the butt”, I will think of him:

I'm outta here

the truth about cats and dogs

09 Thursday Jul 2009

Posted by in get along like cats and dogs

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Upon our return from vacation, each pet had her own trademark greeting for us.

The dog spent 16 nights at a kennel, with, I’m guessing, approximately 100 dogs barking 24 hours a day; the cat spent two relaxing weeks lounging in the comfort and quiet of her own home, made even more peaceful without children dashing about and no canine predators to chase her.

The cat looked relaxed and refreshed.   Of course, she also had her masseuse (aka cat sitter) stop by to check on her regularly.  I suspect the cat sitter gives her massages…  She looked relatively happy to see us, at least until the kids came in.

“Oh, gee, you’re home already?  Look at me!  By napping 23 hours a day, I erased all my stress-related kitty eye wrinkles and frown lines.  See how great I look?

no wrinkles

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“Wow — let me tell you, what a great vacation without the d….  WHAT THE ???”

what the fooey?

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“YOU BROUGHT THE DOG BACK??????????”

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Conversely, the dog was extremely happy to see the cat.  And us.  And her house.  And her yard. And everything.

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“Ohboyohboyohboy, kitty, I am sooooo happy to see you!  Is it really you?  Did you miss me too??  HUh? Huh? HUH?

JaneJaneJaneJaneJANE, am I dreaming??  I thought I would never see you again!  I thought you were eaten at the the watering hole!

I’m so happyhappyhappyhappyhappyhappyohboyohboyohboyohboy!”

insert maniacal wagging here

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Kitty then went outside, preferring the company of the coyote to all of us embarrassing idiots.  Although not before rubbing against the dog’s legs.

Methinks, like someone else we know, she likes the pup more than she lets on…

10 things I learned on vacation

08 Wednesday Jul 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons

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1. 15 days on the road is exponentially longer than 11.

2. The Ford F-350 Super-Duty has superior towing capacity.  We did not actually drive one — I just picked up this trivia from the conversations around me.

3. If the Yosemite Lodge pamphlets and wall placards say “don’t leave your windows open if you have food in the room”, it is a good idea to heed their advice.

4.  The shiny red HHR looks really cool in the rental car Emerald Aisle, but is smaller than it seems at first (giddy) glance.

5.  It takes less than five minutes after returning home to hear the Ode To Joy again, and that’s a good thing.

6.  If the jam-packed-whirlwind-o’-fun trip itinerary does not plan for a down day of doing nothing, my body will create a down day against my will.

7.  Immodium really works.

8.  Turns out I love those boys (all three of them) even more than I thought.

9.  My kid will eat squid.

AND,

10.  No matter how good the trip, I am always happy to be back home.

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As a bonus, here’s #11 :

Fish with big lips are kinda creepy (and the Monterey Bay Aquarium is spectacular).

Mr. Lips

a trip through their eyes

02 Thursday Jul 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons

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We are having a fantastic vacation.  As with any extended trip, some things have gone awry but many things have gone amazingly well, with much good fortune and some timely lucky breaks.  It is our longest family trip ever, filled with lots of priceless memories and lots and lots of time together.  All together.  Together in one hotel room and one intermediate size car. 

Did I mention lots of togetherness?

Vacations have a way of inviting expectations; they sneak into the suitcase as we pack, unawares.  It is true, on this trip in particular, where Don and I are taking the boys back for the first time to where we used to live, and finally enjoying the opportunity to take them to all of our old favorite places.  We have looked forward to this trip for years, with dreams of how it will be with our sons at our side, gamely hiking countless miles of beautiful trails and scenic vistas.  (Does anyone see a red flag?)  Yes, of course, it was inevitable that these very destinations, golden California memories for us, are viewed by two young boys in a very different light.

So, I have been given the privilege of viewing the family vacation through a boy’s eyes…  and here is how it looks:

Every mountaintop vista or Yosemite cliff or San Francisco hilltop scenic view is evaluated based on projected flight speed, lift and anticipated trajectory of a paper airplane (which we would not let them throw, much to their consternation).  Every rushing mountain stream or coastal tidepool wave is benchmarked by how far and fast the S.S. Styrofoam would travel… but, alas, we did not let them pack their homemade “ship” on this trip either.  So basically, Don and I are just big spoil-sports who take them to cool places but then won’t let them test the laws of physics.  Damn the need to not litter and to preserve our national parks!

And the cars — oh, the cars!  As we drive Highway 1 along the coast, or up and down forested mountain roads and past national landmarks, they keep a running commentary on every car we pass, what liter engine and how much torque it has, and was it an XT or an EX?  Many hours of entertainment (and heated debate) on the specifics of a car that is now a quarter mile behind us, yet still oh so very fascinating.

About 25 times, Don popped a vein in his temple and “told” them to stop talking about cars and look at the scenery.  But being a boy at heart himself, about 10 seconds later he would see a really cool car and he could not help himself, he would comment on the year, make and model and start up the whole automotive conversation all over again.  I started a “Car Jar”, which is like a “Swear Jar” wherein whoever commits the infraction of discussing another auto would have to put in a quarter.  The proceeds could then potentially be used to buy me some Xanax.  The Car Jar lasted about 45 minutes, because the boys did not have any money and Don ended up with the most infractions and all of everyone’s quarters had to be used for SF parking meters anyway.  Sigh.  I just lapsed into a coma for a short time to calm down.  Could everyone please just look at the trees and the flowers?

On a more positive note, we have walked many, many miles of incredible scenery, and eventually this exhausted the small ones so thoroughly that they could no longer focus their vision on cars.  Plus, since we stayed on the valley floor of Yosemite, we parked our car and almost everyone else parked their car which meant the boys could only debate the fuel source of the shuttle buses and tour buses (hybrid or biodiesel?)

We have also played countless games of Pooh-Sticks, which has nothing to do with any body function, but lots to do with Winnie the Pooh floating sticks down a stream and watching where they go.  Good clean fun, and there must be some physics in there somewhere.  We hiked and rode bikes and played on beaches and by waterfalls and streams.

It is all good, these experiences together that I believe we will always remember.  I’ll remember everything I ate, because I always do; my memory is based more on taste and smell than vision.  Don is often amazed that I can recall in detail a meal from 10 years ago, yet accidentally rent the same film three times.  Hey, I can’t help it that I can’t taste Appollo 13.

Mostly I hope I will also always remember how my boys viewed the world at this age.  How we all can look at the same view and see something completely different, and how their view is no less right than mine.  Just different.  Just boy.

friends, revisited

29 Monday Jun 2009

Posted by in seasons

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A while back I wrote about friendships — how hard it is to leave them behind when we move and how challenging to keep the friendship alive as the years pass.

Shortly after, I saw a tweet from Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project blog,

half of all friends are replaced every seven years

Really, half every seven years?  The seven year itch of friendships?  Then I read this piece on Zebra Sounds , with a link to an excellent HuffPo articleby Ed and Deb Shapiro.  Technically, it’s about Monica Lewinsky, a dinner party, and forgiveness, but here is a quote that grabbed my attention (along with a note to self to go back and  re-read the inspirational ‘forgive yourself” advice…)

“Within the space of seven years every cell in our body dies and is reformed, our thoughts are constantly changing and our feelings come and go. We are literally not the same person we were a minute ago, let alone a day, a month or a year ago”.

Given the science and the sociology, it seems somewhat amazing that we can maintain friendships at all, with all the changes in our every day lives.   This is our transitory reality, not just when we move out of town, but every move we make, every day, changing us little by little. 

Good thing friendship is not based on science.

If I had any lingering doubt about the lasting nature of friendships, this last week was proof positive.  We saw friends that we had not seen in 10-15 years, and although apparently every cell in my body had changed over twice (and doubled?), it was like a week had gone by, and we had hatched tween children and (just a few) wrinkles in the meantime, but otherwise it was comfortable as an old glove.  Not that they are old.  And neither are we.  Just an expression, really.

I call them old friends in the most attractive, affectionate, slimming, firm, and endearing way possible, seven times over.

excuse me, but can you go find my head?

22 Monday Jun 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons

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December 23rd historically has not been one of my finer days.

I have been known to fall apart on December 23rd.  It is something about the holly jollidays, the anticipation and preparation and frankly the perfectionist tendency to try to make it a perfect holiday for everyone.  Kind souls have been trying to tell me to relax about it for years — No gifts!  No fuss!  Kind souls have practically whacked me over the head with good advice, but I had on Santa blinders and did not see the wisdom of their words and good examples.

I did not want to let go of all the hoopla and merriment and magic, especially the last couple years when some of the “magic” had fizzled away into the world of logic and what’s real.  Ironically, the harder I fought to keep the Happy in the Holidays, the more overwhelmed I became.  Which is, of course, quite silly and counterproductive.

Now December 23rd is synonymous with me having an episode,  as in “Now don’t go all December 23rd on me” or “Stop it!  Mom will go December 23rd!”  But finally, last year I believe I learned my lesson.  Hello, universe?  I get it now.  Do not need to go through the exercise again, thanks for the nice lesson.

Last year, I made a serious tactical error and took two young boys shopping for suit coats and dress slacks, belts, ties and dress shoes.  On December 23rd.  I was delusional with pre-holiday manic preparation syndrome (PHMPS).

And you already know how it probably turned out, but I am going to tell you anyway:  the sizes were picked over, nothing fit, small people were squirrelly in front of full-length mirrors…  and then my head fell off in the dressing room.  All because a couple of boys were being boys.  My head rolled down a couple stalls, and I would have sent the oldest down to retrieve it for me, but he had just accidentally locked himself into a changing stall.

Ho, ho, ho.

Okay, so I have six months to change the situation.  No more conniptions, melt-downs, head-rolling, or running away from home. 

Make December 23rd a joyful day, with no perfectionistic PHMPS grinchiness sneaking back in…grinch has his own ideas 

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That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.