Oympic Poetry

This evening, I watched a little Olympic poetry, as the male figure skaters competed in the men's short program. I was particularly taken with one of the Japanese skaters, Nobunari Oda. Oda skated a clean program with tremendous athleticism, though his performance lacked passion. But it was not so much Oda's skating that fascinated me as his lineage—he is the 17th direct descendant of Oda Nobunaga, a 16th century feudal lord who conquered most of Japan. I wondered what the young skater's ancestor, an exceptional samurai of his time, would have made of his descendant's attempt to conquer the ice.

During an earlier Olympics, in 1992, I found myself pondering the samurai traditions of courage and honor. During those winter games, Midori Ito of Japan skated for the gold in the women's figure skating competition. She won the silver. Many of her countrymen were in the audience waving Japanese flags the day she skated her long program. I watched her drama unfold on television and was moved to write the following poem.

Midori Ito
A Pantoum

Rising suns flutter in the stands
as she slowly skates onto ice,
face of a Kabuki dancer,
modest, but without kimono.

She slowly skates onto ice,
eyes downcast, her muscular legs
immodest, without kimono.
She has come to skate for honor.

Eyes downcast, with muscular legs
she balances on two sharp blades.
She has come to skate for honor,
devoted as a samurai.

She balances on two sharp blades,
gliding gracefully to music,
devoted as a samurai
warrior facing certain death.

Gliding gracefully to music,
she attempts the triple axel
like a warrior facing death,
needing perfect concentration.

She attempts the triple axel,
leaps, knowing she cannot succeed
without perfect concentration,
and falls, shame etched on her features—

face of a Kabuki dancer
as all the rising suns flutter.

Camera Shy

I asked E. for a new camera as a birthday gift. He loved the idea, but wanted me to pick it out. That has turned out to be a daunting task.

My iPhone camera is pretty incredible, considering it's part of a phone that can do so many other things, but even when using a photo app that has a zoom feature, I can't get the closeups I'd like. So, I want a digital camera with good zoom capability. Sounds simple, right?

I knew that digital cameras had come a long way in the past few years, but when I started researching my options online, I was amazed by all the features available these days. I'm always drawn to the models with lots of bells and whistles, but I'm trying to resist. Experience has shown that I get intimidated by too many alternatives and wind up not using most of them. Also, the cameras with lots of cool stuff tend to be bigger and heavier, not to mention more expensive. I've learned that if my camera isn't really compact, I'll leave it at home, and if I keep leaving a really expensive camera at home, I'll constantly feel guilty. So, I've decided I would be better off with an easy-to-use, compact, point-and-shoot camera. That narrows down the field somewhat. But there are still a surprising number of brands and numerous models to choose from.

While checking out cameras online, I quickly got into the camera-world lingo, but I didn't feel any clearer about what I should buy. Different expert reviewers favored different cameras, and once I started reading customer reviews, I became totally confused—they kept contradicting one another. I've asked friends for advice and a couple have recommended their cameras. One has a Sony that she likes, another uses a Canon. But in the short time since they acquired them, the model numbers have changed and some of  the features have been replaced by newer ones.

What's a girl to do? It would probably help to remind myself that this is a good problem to have. I can't wait to get my camera and start shooting the local flora and fauna, including people. If you're in my line of sight, watch out—I'll surely want to take your picture. But if I get one of the cameras that can sense you smiling, you can rest assured you'll look happy in my photos.

Happy Valentine's Day

Snow Day

Today was a rare, perhaps unique, day in American meteorological history. Snow was on the ground in 49 of the 50 states of the union. Only Hawaii had no snow, but Florida's panhandle got some of the white stuff, thanks to an unusual winter storm making its way across the South. With the mid-Atlantic and Northeast digging out from the latest blizzard, the United States is officially a winter wonderland. Too bad Vancouver hasn't shared in the snowfest—as the Winter Olympics begins, workers are busy trucking in snow and hoping it won't melt before the ski events begin tomorrow.

But the U.S. is not the only country experiencing more snow than usual. My cousin Cathie sent me the beautiful photograph posted here. It was taken yesterday at sunset by her husband, Jacques, from their apartment in Nice, France. It also snowed today in Rome—the heaviest snowfall in nearly a quarter of a century.

Even here in normally balmy South Florida, the weather has been uncharacteristically wintry. Many plants died during the January cold snap, along with fish who couldn't withstand the colder waters (see "Death at Sea").

This week, we're having cold-snap redux. Yesterday, I awoke to temps in the low forties and crisp dry air, kind of like fall in New England. Today was a bit warmer, but still unusually cool. During the late afternoon, dark clouds began to gather, but they didn't appear overly ominous. After darkness fell, however, I saw flashes of lightning in the distance. I didn't think much of it until, from one second to the next, a violent wind began to blow, so fierce that I stopped what I was doing and moved away from the window, wondering if a tornado was about to descend. Instead a powerful thunderstorm unleashed its lightning, thunder, and rain upon us.

Who knows what will come next? Given the wild weather across the nation, nothing would surprise me. Snow for Mardi Gras? A white Valentine's Day in Miami? How about an early spring for everyone? Now that would be a surprise.

Click on photo to enlarge.

Seen Through Another's Eyes

E. and I have owned our Miami apartment for quite a while now, since 2004. The apartment is in an older building and had never been renovated, so after we bought it we hired a contractor, gutted the place, and started from scratch. The work was completed in January, 2005. Shortly after, we moved in with our furniture, set up our computers, plugged in the television, and we were home. Or almost.

Our walls, painted off-white, remained bare until the following year, when we were able to bring paintings created by E.'s father back from California, where they'd been stored. Once we'd hung the paintings, the place really felt like ours. After adding a few decorative odds and ends, including a Chinese red ceramic jar and an Indonesian window screen, we considered ourselves done. For the past several years, we've made virtually no changes. We've simply lived here. And after a while, we stopped really seeing the place. It was just home.

Earlier today, a friend came to visit. Though we've known her for almost as long as we've lived here, she had never seen our apartment. She had no idea what to expect, what our taste in furniture would be, whether we liked clutter, austerity, or something in between. She's something of an expert, since she renovates houses for a living, so I was surprised and pleased when she said she loved the apartment. She commented on things I'd stopped thinking about—the dark wood we chose for our kitchen cabinets, the way we'd laid out the master bath, even the soffits we'd had built over the windows to hide the shade mechanisms. But she also said she loved the artwork and the way the place looked lived-in and not over-decorated.

Before my friend's visit, if I noticed anything about our decor, it was the negatives—all the wires visible beneath our desks, the way the ebony dresser shows dust five minutes after I dust it. Of course, my friend, being my friend, accented the positive. But her praise did more than make me feel good. It helped me appreciate anew the environment E. and I have created, which reflects who we are and how we like to live. It took seeing the apartment through another's eyes to remind me of that.

Being There

Today, I was caught in traffic in front of an elementary school. Parents were lined up in cars, picking up their kids. A few children were walking home with accompanying adults, but for the most part, it was cars, cars, cars. The sight made me grateful that I had lived just around the corner from my sons' elementary school, so I was able to walk over and pick them up when school was out, at least until they were old enough to walk home on their own. I remember those afternoons fondly.

I used to leave the house a few minutes before dismissal time and walk over to the school, where I'd stand in front with other moms and the occasional dad. We parents developed a pleasant camaraderie as we chatted about our children and their concerns. Then, as the students started streaming out of the building, there came that wonderful moment when one or the other of my boys emerged, eyes scanning the waiting parents until he finally found me, then bounded down the steps, full of news of his day.

We ambled along the path next to the field and up the hill to our house, talking about this or that, or simply daydreaming. Those long ago days seem like a dream now, the specifics of our conversations mostly lost. But I still remember the joy I felt at being there for my children at the end of their school day.

Shopping for "The One"

It's interesting to remember how much I enjoyed dressing up as a child, considering how much I dislike it as an adult. Like most girls, I adored trying on my mother's high heels and her jewelry, and I loved watching her get ready for a party—the smell of Chanel No.5 still reminds me of sitting on her bed as she padded around the bedroom in her slip and stockings, then pulled on a black cocktail dress and applied bright red lipstick.

Later, I remember the excitement of having my hair done for my senior prom, and how beautiful I felt in the soft pink gown I wore. A lovely orchid corsage from my date supplied the finishing touch. Since then, though, the thrill of dressing up has been replaced by the joy of dressing down. But sometimes, I still need a fancy outfit for a wedding or other occasion. This week, I've been shopping for an long evening dress.

Most of the dresses I've seen would look gorgeous on a twenty-something-year-old, but not so much on me. At Nordstrom's yesterday, I did find a couple of dresses that seemed worth a try. One that I liked fit nicely in every regard, except around my waist, where it was (ahem) a tad too tight. The saleswoman assured me that a body shaper undergarment would do the trick. I'm sure she's right, but do I want to go through the entire evening feeling constricted? Some women are willing to endure pain for beauty. I'm not one of them.

Speaking of pain, high heels aren't so much fun these days, either. I've decided not to even think about shoes until I've found a dress. At Neiman Marcus, I tried on a pretty taffeta number. Fortunately, it was a little too big. I say fortunately, since the number that was way too big was the price. At Neiman's, I couldn't even find a sale rack.

I have had the occasional success story when searching for a fancy dress. Last spring, I desperately needed something to wear to a wedding. I perused the offerings at Bloomingdale's, Macy's, and every boutique at the local mall, with no luck. A couple of days later, I decided to wander through Bloomingdale's one more time, hoping that something I'd missed would catch my eye. Something did! On a sale rack jammed with shopworn clothes, I found a Burberry cocktail dress, drastically reduced. The dress was adorable, falling above my knees, with an empire waist. The fabric was silk, in a soft rose, silver, and pewter check. I had no idea Burberry even made evening clothes, but there it was, in perfect condition and just my size. I'd found "The One!"

This time around, even though I'm not looking forward to heading back to the evening wear trenches, I'm hopeful that among the sequins, beads, taffeta and satin, I'll find the perfect dress for me. And, if I'm really lucky, it will be on sale.