The Hyper-Realist Place on Earth

I know I'm supposed to look on the place as some kind of gluttonous monument to capatalism, a wasteful, overpriced, and unnatural way to spend the afternoon.

And even my boss, who does not view the place as any of the above, expressed confusion over my reference to a day spent there with Tech Support as romantic.


And yes, I guess I can see how spending an overcast and drizzling day in a theme park based, loosely, around a talking mouse and his friends and the dreams of a man who died over 40 years ago, might not be considered the perfect date. But then, I've never really been a champagne and chocolate strawberries kind of girl.


This morning I asked Tech Support: "Do you think Disneyland is romantic?"
"What?! Huh?! Yeah, I guess," he exclaimed defensively. He had only gotten out of bed about three minutes earlier.


The day was cool, the sky overcast, intermittent rain drifted down and scared away crowds, keeping the lines short. We walked around for hours, chatting about things both deep and shallow, and laughed over the ridiculous. Then, with Tech Supports thrilled whoops of joy from riding Space Mountain still lingering in my ears, we went home.

But we did not go on It's A Small World.

Sweat The Small Stuff

The other night I had an epiphany. I'd known for months that part of the reason writing my book has taken so long is because I spent almost a year trying to polish scenes and plot points that didn't work -- an effect that is like constantly rearranging furniture in a house with no bathroom or windows. But I hadn't fully understood why I did this, besides being buried in denial about having built a house with no bathroom or windows.

Then it came to me -- I'd been too obsessed with the details. Why? Because I love the details in books. That's what make books worth reading to me. Those little bits of information that build onto a whole and offer insight and truth.

But you need to have a whole first.

I remember watching the movie about Ed Wood years ago, and thinking that he had all the enthusiasm in the world but didn't realize he needed to pay attention to the details. Part of the reason I decided not to go into film despite having a degree was my hatred for the details involved. I hated figuring out the fstop of lighting, the frame rate of film, where the music needed to swell. I loved the stories, I didn't care at all about the technicalities.

Meanwhile, I love working on the details of my real house (which thankfully has a bathroom and windows). At some point in the last two years I realized that if I wanted my house to look a certain way, I'd have to Do It Myself. Perhaps if I had a large disposable income I could hire someone, but even then, I fear I'm too much of a control freak.


I don't have any particular style or goal. I don't know Interior Design, but I know what I like -- A little Jane Austen, a little Steam Punk, and anything else that hits my fancy.


I made those curtains. I'm proud.

The apartment overlords must have realized I'm on a home decorating mood, because they helpfully removed large parts of the trees outside (a bit too much perhaps) and now my patio is getting more light than ever.


Details... details...

Paperback Writer

The first real completed draft, the draft where the importance of having a good plot on which to build good writing finally sank into my dense skull, is done and weighs in at 104,233. At 250-300 words per page, I've written a whole lot of pages.

Time for a break. Step back, get a little perspective so I can be critical of the New Improved Plot. Get back to the blogging I stopped doing when life got busy and I got so focused on my writing that writing anything else inspired mental tantrums.

Meanwhile though, I have continued to use the donabe.





I love that all you need to do to make something in the donable is chop some stuff, saute some stuff, and then throw the lid over it. Nothing takes more than 1/2 an hour to prepare.


Here's a picture of my writing partner and his associates. Every morning I get up before Tech Support, around 7am, make tea, and do some writing -- and I never lack company. Now that I'm on break from writing, I'm not sure what I'll do. I'll figure something out. And I'm guaranteed company.

The Paradox

Last month I was overwhelmed with house guests, conferences, work and fun. I had a lot to blog about but either lacked time or energy. This month life has returned to normal and I've got time and energy and not much to blog about.

Sure, I could toss up another picture of a donabe and yakisoba and you'd show polite (and perhaps genuine) interest. However, I must admit my own creative inspiration needs a little more to work with than, 'look! yakisoba! yummy!'

So, nostalgia!


The Blackirby B & B hosted the young Kitchen Gnome for another visit, and at the same time the Aunt from Santa Cruz came down for some fun.


We overcame a combination of laziness and weariness of the Los Angeles Freeway system and made it out to Pasadena and the Gamble House.


I'd been there before, years ago. I don't rave over everything Arts and Crafts, but I admire it. The houses in the neighborhood I grew up in were beautiful, turn of the century bungalows of a similar asthetic. Sometimes I miss them.

All the polished wood, the carvings, the carefully chosed furniture, made me want to run home, tear down the apartment building, and start over. For now, I'll settle on continuing to work on the parts of my apartment that I can change (more on that someday...).

(I advised Tech Support that this would be a fun place to take his Mom.)


After the Gamble House we went over to the Huntington and had lunch. We wandered through the exhibits, finding even a little more Green & Green for my Aunt's inexhaustible appetite. We then went out and sweltered with the plants (it was a hot day).


And then we were done. (Except for some traffic, but we're being nostalgic and have already forgotten about it).