Archive for April, 2009

I went back down to the Main Street Arts Fair to carry out my promise to shop, not just browse. I had my eye on a paperweight with pink threads of glass inside, from a booth right in the middle of Sundance Square.

I got my paperweight and checked over again the other booths, since I knew that I had to have missed something — and sure enough, I came across the Trinity River Vision stand. They had maps both large and small and a woman behind the table carefully explained to me how this huge new waterside section of town would be constructed. First, a causeway would be built to provide flood protection, and then available low land between downtown and the Stockyards will be changed into into a high rent district of European-style four story low-rises (shops and businesses below, housing above) cut through by canals and the river.

The first waterworks construction has begun; completing the system of channels and waterway will take about ten years. When finished, transportation for residents will be possible by foot, water taxi, and (hopefully) only one car per family.

As my husband and I walked away, he seemed quite impressed. “Too bad we don’t have any money to invest, looks like time to buy an apartment to me,” he said.

“Are you sure it won’t just turn into another EUR?’ I asked, referring to the Fascist area of suburban Rome where a huge development has to some degree stagnated due to unattractive architecture, layout and transportation options.

“No way,” he said. “This thing is in downtown Fort Worth. It’s going to be the hottest real estate around.”

I wondered. There are threats to the perfection of the idea — cheap modern construction and brackish waterways mostly — but overall I had to agree, it seemed like the very place for rapid real estate value growth.

Of course, as the value of the land races upward, the question is what cut will go to the developers, and what to the new owners of the properties?

At any rate, I personally think we should call it “Venice, Texas.” But perhaps there already is one of those.

From the Fort Worth Opera, a press release:

FORT WORTH- As Fort Worth Opera prepares for its 2009 Festival, it will also be gearing up to tackle
the question of how and if the arts can lead the way in affecting social change. Fort Worth Opera joins
Southern Methodist University (SMU) and The Dallas Opera in bringing the influential author of the
Pulitzer Prize-winning book Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the
United States, Sister Helen Prejean, to contribute in a panel discussion entitled, “Arts, Social Change,
and Human Rights”, on April 23, 2009 from 7:00-8:30 p.m., at SMU’s Hughes-Trigg Student Center
Theatre located at 3140 Dyer Street Dallas, Texas 75275. Jake Heggie, acclaimed composer of the
modern epic opera derived from her book, Dead Man Walking, will also participate in the discussion.

Sister Helen Prejean, a former teacher from Louisiana, joined the Sisters of St. Joseph of Medaille at a
young age and soon after began dedicating her life to the poor of New Orleans. She began a prison
ministry in 1981 and became a pen pal and spiritual advisor to many convicted felons which led her to
share her experiences with America through Dead Man Walking.

The other panelists will include Darren K. Woods (General Director of Fort Worth Opera), and
Jonathan Pell (Artistic Director for The Dallas Opera). Rick Halperin (Director of the SMU’s Human
Rights Education Program) will serve as the moderator. Dead Man Walking, which was created into a
major motion picture in 1996 and later into an opera by Heggie, sparked an interest on the topic of arts
and social change. The discussion will highlight examples of how the arts, have changed and positively impacted communities and changed behavior patterns. It will also draw attention to the importance of social change related to human rights and emphasize the importance of integrating the arts more into our social change work.

The event will preview the two upcoming operas by Jake Heggie that will be presented in the
Metroplex area over the next year: Dead Man Walking (Fort Worth Opera, opening May 2009) and
Moby Dick (The Dallas Opera, premiering 2010). It will also feature special musical experts from Dead
Man Walking and other Jake Heggie works. Many of the same works will also be featured on April 25,
2009 when the Cliburn at the Modern presents Jake Heggie, also in Fort Worth.

The arts and social change panel at SMU is free and a reception will follow the discussion. Seating is
limited and RSVP required. Call 214-443-1044 to RSVP or email amici@dallasopera.org.

ABOUT FORT WORTH OPERA: Fort Worth Opera was founded in 1946 and is the oldest, continually
performing opera company in Texas and one of the 14 oldest opera companies in the United States. In
recent years, under the leadership of Darren Keith Woods, the company has gained national attention
from critics and audiences alike for its artistic quality and willingness to take risks. In 2007, the
company completely changed its fall/winter schedule to a condensed one-month long Festival in the
spring. The 2007 season also featured the company’s first major world premiere, Frau Margot by
composer Thomas Pasatieri. Darren Keith Woods, who began his operatic career in 1982 as a
character tenor, joined Fort Worth Opera as General Director in 2001.

More information about the panel discussion, Fort Worth Opera, and the Fort Worth Opera Festival,
including press materials, interviews, and photos (call 817.269.9795 for photo password), can be found
on the website: www.fwopera.org.

My daughter, son and I decided we simply had to attend the Main Street Arts Fair tonight even though we were a little tired after the long day of doctors visits and rain. Fortunately the weather had cleared up nicely. We arrived and parked, for free, in the garage by Bass Hall right off Sundance Square, and were able to reach Main Street with only two blocks’ walking and an elevator ride.

Main Street is decked out in canvas booths with handmade collectibles and finery.

The arts fair is a fine mixture of genres, styles and mediums. The bulk of what is to be seen is offered in small canvas booths lined along Main Street and its tributaries. You might see, on arriving, hand made jewlery, leatherwork, oil or watercolor paintings, photographey, embellished or not, pottery, woodwork, or glass paperweights.

Pepper grinders by Robert Wilhelm of Raw Design in Portland.

We spent some time looking at the works of Robert Wilhelm, whose Raw Design studio in Portland, Oregon, specializes in hand made pepper grinders. Wilhelm told us he got the idea for making the pepper grinders while doing a restaurant redesign 12 years ago and hasn’t looked back since.

We also got quite a kick out of Geoffry R. Johnson’s booth, where he was playing and selling handmade dulcimers. The dulcimer, Johnson showed us, is far easier to play than the guitar. He gave us a demonstration.

We left after an hour an a half’s brisk walk looking into stalls. We had seen a great deal, and avoided, for pecuniary reasons, the many attractive booths from places like Risky’s Barbecue Pit where smells of roasted and fried foods were causing us to feel like we were starving to death.  We walked back and got into the car.

“I think we forgot to do something.” I told my daughter.

“What?”

“What good is our campaign against Walmart and mass produced commercialism if we don’t even buy some art at the Main Street Arts Fair? I fancy one of those paperweights.” They were gorgeous with suspended webs of spun glass inside, only $30.

She agreed — she thought a pepper grinder would be just the thing –and we’ve made plans to go back tomorrow.

I took time this Friday morning to take my daughter, who’s nine, to doctor and dentist checkups.  As we went out the door to drop the other kids at school, I told them to get their raincoats. The older boys looked at me in dismay. I never asked them if they didn’t have raincoats or if they did and didn’t think it would be cool to wear them, but just let them get in the car in their shirtsleeves as the rain began to pour.

After dropping the other kids at school, my daughter and I trundled along through the downpour and puddles to her appointment. The doctor’s office is not unattractive, with roller roaster toys and framed prints on the walls, but we have to wait, as always, a seemingly interminable time and in the company of a bunch of other people who can best be described as resigned, grumpy, or tense and fearful.

This is the kind of place that you march yourself down to and then discipline yourself to keep from stomping out the door in disgust and dismay, muttering angrily.

“When are they going to see us?” my daughter asks.

“It usually takes an hour to get a room,” I tell her.

Sometimes I get mad and show up late myself, thinking that by arriving 15 minutes behind my time I might cut 15 off the wait, but it doesn’t work. They just make you wait even longer. Today, I decided to show up early and see if that helps.

It doesn’t. I am still sitting here, we’ve been here an hour, with the rain washing down outside. I imagine telling the doctor my time is too valuable for this — or correspondingly asking why they do this to me every time I show up? Part of me thinks they don’t do this on purpose, and part of me thinks they do, and part of me just doesn’t want to know.

After one hour and ten minutes, we finally get a room. To the doctor’s credit, a med student comes in and spends some time with my daughter talking about her fatophobia, and then the doctor herself quickly examines her and sends us on our way. Total elapsed time in the office? One hour 40 minutes. We head off to have lunch at the Coffee Urn on Trail Lake Blvd, in the pouring rain, and I wonder as I drive why so much of life is tedium. I could enjoy this rain if I wasn’t doesn’t stuff I didn’t want to do. But perhaps going out to lunch will work out better than the doctor’s office.

This is from a press release by the City. I hate to admit this, but I was tempted. However, I have already signed up to work at my kids’ school carnival. Gardening is going fine, but developing a compost pile is not something I find easy to understand. The city offers you the chance to:

Learn how to compost in your own back yard from those who do it best - Master Composters, volunteers trained to educate others about composting.

The training takes place 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. May 2 and May 9 in the Orchid Room of the Fort Worth Botanic Garden Center, 3220 Botanic Garden Blvd. The class costs $35 and is limited to the first 30 people registered.

To register, send a check (payable to Fort Worth Botanical Society) along with your name, address, phone number and e-mail to Fort Worth Botanic Garden, Education Office, 3220 Botanic Garden Blvd., Fort Worth, Texas 76107. Registration ends April 24.

This class is made possible by the Fort Worth Botanic Garden, Texas AgriLife Extension Service and the Fort Worth Environmental Management Department.

To learn more, call 817-871-7966 or visit www.fwbg.org.

We’ve gotten a huge number of hits on our “Bluebonnets Watch” post and I think it might be appropriate to update by saying: yes, the bluebonnets are out! You can see them for sure in the following spots:

1. A large mass of them on the 35N south of the exit for the spur to go downtown. They are on the east side of the freeway.

2. A field of them on the 820 coming from Arlington, about five miles west of Cooper.

3. Along the Trinity Trails between Hulen and University.

4. Along the 30 west on the east side of the road, west of the University onramp, basically outside the Botanic gardens.

5. Along University Blvd. between TCU and the river, on the east side.

6. In the 377 traffic circle off of Camp Bowie.

Does it seem to you that all the sites I’ve listed are grasslands beside freeways? It does seem to be true. I’ve been looking for the bluebonnets for weeks and the most promising location is beside a freeway. No doubt there are more sites than these. Keep your eyes peeled, and if you know of any others, please do comment.

Okay, since the response to the “Bad Email” thread was quite good, I think it might be appropriate to go further. What do you do when you receive the following from MyLife or LinkedIn saying  “So and So would like to be added to your network” and you don’t remember who So and So is?

Alright, this seems obvious, the person is a shameless spammer who’s building the uber-LinkedIn master network designed to access every breathing person in America for their Multi-Level-Marketing empire. But wait! Are you sure you don’t know this person? I mean, could it be that you just are having a mental blackout moment and you will remember them right after you send the “Lord, I know him not” response?

I had this happen to me. I sent a friend request via LinkedIn and the woman wrote back, “Do I know you?” Yeah, I said, I’m your cousin. Since that time I’ve been worried about saying there’s anyone I really am sure I don’t know. What if they got married and changed their surname? What if they had a legal name change for relgious reasons? What if I’m just trying to do too many things at one and in a moment I will remember that this is someone really important that I cannot afford to offend?

As a result, I haven’t sent any ‘I don’t know them” responses. People, this is the honest truth: Sometimes I don’t know if I know you. If you’d send a picture, it might help, but then again it might not.

Do you know this person, the email asks? Um, well … I plead the fifth.

I find that when something painful happens, such as the burglary of February 27, I tend to not feel much at first. I suppose you could call it shock; I just don’t allow myself to feel feelings. Then, as the weeks go on, small twinges set in, and I feel the pain over a drawn out time. This is the only way I can cope.

I still haven’t gotten a new computer, I’m typing this on my daughter’s laptop.  I have just begun to be clear enough about the matter to realize that I need to stop grieving about the robbery and buy my own computer again. I need this so I can return to my desk in the early morning, listen to songs, journal, update this site, and perform other writing projects. But in order to be able to do that, I’ve got to acknolwedge and accept the losses of all my accumulated music, pictures, and writings that went out the back door when the computer was stolen.

It’s a tall order that I can put off thinking of until I get a new computer and face that gaping void of non-me disk space that will need to be customized and filled. My whole life was on that computer. Do I have enough time left in my existence to make a new one?

Okay, let’s not be maudlin here. A month is long enough to grieve and by all signs, yes, I have enough time to make a new computer-life. Let me make a plan. I have decided that I need another desktop computer, and that I would prefer an Apple because I think they’re more reliable (when I announced this at the dinner table last night, cries of “elitest” were heard, but I don’t care) and this is too important to mess around with.  What will I need to do to re-establish myself?

1. I will need to get a computer. I can do that by buying one used from the computer shop up there street or from the TCU sales list my daughter gets from school, or from Craigs.  It will need to fit my budget, less than $500.

2. I will enlist the help of my husband or son for setup, including getting the printer to work, because I am not good at these things. 

3. I will make a plan for backing up my documents. I will buy the DVD’s I will need for the time being.There are three important areas: writing, photos, and music.

4. I will buy a few office supplies to “freshen up” the desk, including ordering a new fountain pen and ink, paper, and then I will throw some stuff I don’t need away to clear space.

5. I will need to get all my music CD’s ready. Some of the music CDS are lost, but a good start can be made.

6. I will need to write to friends and family, asking if they have pictures of us in digital (or other!) format from the last five years. I will use these to start a new catalogue of photos. I also have a few stored on-line at photobucket.

7. I will re-organize my writing and make a new plan for submission and development of my projects.

8. I will get up in the early early morning, go to my desk, turn on the music, and write, and feel normal again, I hope.

You know you’re crossed a line when you dread opening your email box. This week, I’ve received all of the following:

1. Weekly e-news service I never signed up for. I think they got my email address from a professional organization, talking about assets I don’t possess and financial dilemas that don’t apply.

2. Contacts from My Space which I signed up for two years ago and quickly recognized as something I could never really be part of, but which I never figured out how to delete my name from their account holder list. So now they tell people I am part of the organization. Let me make this clear, not that anyone will find it here: I Do Not Have a My Space Page. They flash too much.

3. Demands for confidential information from both spammers and relatives.

4. A  ”CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS PROPOSAL” from a guy called Kosi Asu. He claims to be an auditor for a place called the First Bank of Togo. And in order for me to reap millions, he needs my banking information. I was not impressed with his grammar or his originality. I receive two to three of these offers a day.

5. Numerous notifications that people are now following a twitter account belonging to a local writer’s group. I no longer manage the account, but it appears no one else cares to manage it either. It’s amazing that people keep adding themselves to follow it, since no one is really keeping the account updated.

Why do I get such bad, non-personal email? I know, I know. In order to get personal email, you have to write personal email. Actually, some of the personal email I’ve received lately has been downright passive agressive, assuming I’m going to be places I’m not going to be, doing things I have no intention of doing, and making me wonder if I should just request people call me on the phone.

What do you think? Is anyone sick of bad email?

A few  weeks ago I saw a pair of Mallard ducks in the creek by our house. There’s a long thin park there with mowed grass, and some rough brush down by the water’s edge, but the creek itself is not very deep or wide so it surprised me to see them several days in a row, swimming along in a pair, in clear water no more than a foot deep. They looked completely placid and happy in this unusual urban environment.  I couldn’t help but think that they were there because they didn’t want to be part of the free for all over at Foster Park at the corner of South Drive and Trail Lake, where a large group of ducks and geese is regularly swimming, waiting for the bread that visitors routinely bring. I didn’t blame these two for wanting to be apart, and I thought it was a nice thing, to have ducks in the neighborhood.

Mallard Duck Details

Description: With its iridenscent green head, black tail and purple patch in the wing feathers, male Mallards are easy to identify. The female is less striking, being a simple mottled brown.

Size: About 20-26 inches long, one of the larger duck varieties.

Range: The Mallard’s range covers just about all of North America. The bird winters in the southwestern United States and Mexico, can be found all year in the middle regions of the country, and summers in Canada, which is its breeding ground.

Diet: “Insects and larvae, aquatic invertebrates, seeds, acorns, aquatic vegetation, and grain” according to the Mallard’s entry on All About Birds.

Habitat: All wetlands.

Population status: The most widespread and abundant duck in North America, it is heavily hunted and numbers are carefully tracked by conservationists.

Listen: Mallard Duck call.

You can also Help Track Mallard Populations by entering birdwatching data on the Celebrate Urban Birds Website.