The deep end of the Exhibits Hall

Today was my first ever session as a sales person on "booth duty" in the conference exhibition hall.  I went as a training exercise, to "observe and learn from the best"

That was the theory. And I did. For a while. After that, it got kinda busy, and there were customers waiting, and a spare demo station, so...



...I joined in.

Scary? yes. Educational? definitely. Fun? hell, yeah!


Reflection | noitcelfeR

Chicago Millennium Park- Anish Kapoor's "Cloud Gate" aka the Bean- reflecting completely, imperfectly, adjusting identity.


Where am I?
Is that me? Wave, gesture, adopt a strange pose, identify myself. Take a photograph.
Move closer, more naturally, softly. Take another photograph.
Come closer still, look into my own eyes.Take another photograph.
Bring my flesh hand up to meet the hand of the other me. Touch. Pause. Engage. Laugh

Everyone was comfortable seeing themselves in this mirror. Perhaps the sheer scale, where noone could 'look fat'. Perhaps the distortion of curvature released us from the perfect image.

The innocent delight and joy of visitors, the gradient from disbelief to engagement, like the bean itself, another curve to navigate. Strangers clustered closely together under the arch, openly borrowing each other - person and image - for context and orientation.

And tonight, a musical accompaniment. The Benjamin Britten War Requiem performed live, nearby, outdoors. As I walked around the Bean, we experienced perfect but subtly distorted surround sound, courtesy of the echo-reflections of nearby buildings.

I like to think this is a rehearsal for how we will experience our first alien visitors - astonished, delighted, fearless, engaged.

Caffeine. Or lack thereof.

There is not enough caffeine in the universe.


To be more accurate, there is not enough decent-tasting steam-extracted essence of skilfully-roasted bean of Coffea arabica here in Ohio. I'm very fond of the buckeye state, and hope to return, but future travel plans will place it at the end of my US acclimatisation phase, not the beginning. What we have here, to paraphrase the famous Arthur Dent, is a liquid almost entirely but not quite unlike coffee.

It gets worse. Mysterious substances like "non-dairy creamer" are added. The mind boggled on reading the label. One way of telling that the cognitive processes are sub-par: if I were in my right mind I would not have read that label.

It's truly amazing I can read that label, and operate this piece of delicate machinery, because although the clock on the wall claims it is 08:16, every cell in my body is firmly convinced it is just past midnight. It is so far after my bedtime that it is in fact time to get up. And have a coffee.

Those who know me well, know I have a finely tuned awareness of the effect on me of many psychoactive substances. I self-medicate with care and precision. Caffeine is the thing I need. Sugar is not. So a can of Red Bull or similar is not the answer. Yes, they come in "diet" varieties, but honestly, I need to wake up and *smell* the coffee, as well as drink it!



One more sleep!!!

One more sleep until I hop on the Big plane and go to Chicago and San Francisco. I'm filled with my usual mixture of excitement and dread.



Excitement is for everything, no matter how prosaic. Different money. Drinking rootbeer. Having another Summer. Being completely among strangers. At the Bean. Walking on the other side of the footpath, I mean sidewalk. Dusting off the other vocabulary! 

Dread is only my normal background worry, amplified and emphasized by the change of environment. It's not about other people or places, only about me. What will I forget? What will I lose? Will I get lost and be embarrassingly late? What part of my plans will turn out to have a stupid gap?

The good thing about this is it's entirely under my control & I have loads of practice in dealing with it. All of those worries can be managed with a dose of relaxation. Chill out Sarah!  I'm certainly not going to let a little thing like Dread cancel out my excitement and spoil the enjoyment. Just like I don't at home.

Everything packed except my medication, toothbrush and undies. I don't know why I usually leave these until last. I'm certainly never going to forget them again...

I'll do my best to keep up the daily posts and share the excitement.

What to wear to work??

I now have 3 dress codes to shop for...

At Home:
aiming at Getting out of PJs + Staying warm. Most of these items I would not be seen dead in, but there is an element I can permit to be photographed:
beaded wrist warmers

Appointments out of Auckland:
aiming at Professional + Interesting + Easy to travel in. Favourite item: teal velvet jacket.


Appointments in Auckland:
aiming at Professional + Interesting + A chance to wear things that don't travel well!

Actually no need for any more shopping in this area, Miss Sarah. There are so very many of these exciting items in my wardrobe.  They look at me reproachfully from their padded hangers. Once upon a time they were my everyday work clothes, a delight to my clients and colleagues. I'm saying it myself, but I had quite a rep for dressing beautifully.

Today's choice: a snug-fitting flame-coloured dress with a long black leather coat and tall boots. Quite sorry there's no photo, but I couldn't bring myself to ask the other attendees to take a snap of my fabulousness...

Inconvenient though it is, in all three codes I'm holding steadfast to the *all-black-is-the-last-resort* principle. Colour is life!

A day of no appointments

Today was blissfully unscheduled.

After eight weeks where every single day had several appointments, if not entirely booked from dawn to dusk, it was quite strange to just do things 'whenever'.

I slept until I was done with sleeping.
I lay in bed until I'd read as much as I wanted.
I made myself very good poached eggs for breakfast, maybe the best ever!

Like the tablecloth? It's one of my quilts!

Then I calmly did whatever I felt like from my Sunday list, most of them very nice things. I've spoiled the effect slightly by doing a little preparation for work tomorrow, but even that has been a choice. Pretty good Sunday, and I'm making the most of it cos there won't be another day like it for a while. The next few weeks have a lot scheduled.

Verdi Requiem - the show went on

They made it!

At 6pm this evening, we took our first deep breaths as Maestro Inkinen delicately gestured the opening bars. After the disappointment of the previous night's cancelled concert, at last we were rehearsing with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra.

As in previous times I've been lucky enough to sing with them, I was blown away by their amazing quality of sound and passionate expressiveness.  After a 7-hour wait at Wellington Airport yesterday, and an unusual flight experience today, they were still breathtaking.


Yes, the Air Force transported our national orchestra - over a hundred players and their instruments - in a single flight so they could perform the Verdi Requiem in Auckland. We were lucky there were no major search and rescue operations under way, and that missions to Antarctica are over for the year. I think that's a pretty good use of an air force, and I'm sure our capacity Town Hall audience would agree.

Even with the reduced rehearsal time, we came together at the critical moment to produce a beautiful, moving, spirited performance. Music is always a collaboration between composer, conductor, orchestra, singers, support people and audience, but it is not often the ensemble stretches to a P-3K2 Lockheed Orion. Three cheers for RNZAF No. 5 Squadron!!


Like it or not, we're not in control

Maybe you read my earlier post, The Price, on risking my music for my new job

Turns out I DID get to enough rehearsals, and I made the grade to perform with the NZSO tonight : Gustav Holst's magical "Planets Suite"

.


...and tomorrow night : Giuseppe Verdi's magnificently operatic Requiem. Excited and delighted, that was me.

In one of those ironic little twists that remind us that Nature is really in charge, the recent stormy weather closed airports and stranded the orchestra in their home city of Wellington.

No airport, no orchestra. No orchestra, no concert. Cancelled.

And if I think I'm disappointed, what about all the people with tickets? What about Eve de Castro-Robinson, who was anticipating the world premiere of one of her works in the same concert?

So far things are looking promising for Saturday. The tour manager must be a miracle worker to reschedule flights for all those players, plus shipping their instruments.

Fingers crossed.

Too cold to type...

...and so much lightning I don't want to run a computer any more
time to unplug everything and snuggle down under a quilt to enjoy the storm. Thunder and hail!

Marriage is like...



Talking with a friend today, it occurred to me....marriage is like a corset.



It keeps you in a shape you have decided you like, one that is easily understood and valued by others.  It's restrictive, yet can be comforting. Sometimes made of made of luxury materials and beautifully ornamented. It has complex erotic implications relating to power and control.

It may be that you’d end up stronger and healthier if you held that shape anyway without the corset. That’s sometimes hard to do, without support.  And while it always seems to be preferable to do it on your own, remember that we rely on many types of support through our lives. Marriage is just one more.

---Sarah's  ‘Lingerie Theory of Relationships"  $0.02 thanks

Perfect apostrophe control

Remember Sister Mary Loyola? she of the clothespeg strategy

Despite this early unpleasantness between us, we came to be great friends in the classroom. I was lucky enough to have her teach me a little later in primary school.

Grammar must have been her true teaching passion - because she was able to give the whole class of 35 snotty little kids the ability to use our cute and curly friend, the APOSTROPHE, with complete confidence.

So here's when to use one, which like all rules begins simply, then adds a little complexity
  1. When you want to shorten by joining words and skipping a letter
    do not becomes don't
  2. When you want to show possession
    Sarah's quilt
Fun facts for the possessive apostrophe:
  1. Never with pronouns. Her's is not a thing. Ever. If Theresa has a pen, its hers
  2. It moves if there are multiple owners of the possession.
    The cat's pyjamas - nightwear for one cat
    The cats' pyjamas - what all of the cats are wearing to bed

That's all. Quantities and plurals don't come into it. Thousand's isn't a thing either. Do the test: nothing shortened, nothing owned = no apostrophe.

Of course there is nothing rational about all this  - it's just how it is. I suspect there's an archaeology of grammar that could show how our use of the apostrophe is a remnant of a more wordy practice which has worn away in use.

Why does this matter? the main reason is clarity - we all want the ability to communicate what we mean to say. We all want to receive information that is unambiguous, easy to read. Some of us also want to give the impression of competence when we write, hoping this will lead to greater credibility and trust. The classic example:

Bless you Sister Loyola, wherever you are.



The Commute. Part 3

Lest you all come to think that my life is overly luxurious...


...I came 'home' from work today, not on the P&O cruise liner, but on the Manly ferry, in a bit of a swell.

Far from stylish, not at all plush, but always happy to be on the water on any kind of vessel. Especially happy to reminisce over making the same journey many years ago and
unexpectedly meeting an old friend while boarding. Surprise and delight!

Other commuting adventures, at home and away

Cunning schemes, however small...

...don't you love it when they work out?


Meet Lady Moneybug. She's a cute little leather coin purse from TradeAid. Her job is to look after the cash and SIM card for "the other side of the Tasman".

She's big enough not to get lost, cute enough to be memorable and small enough (there's not that much cash!) to fly with my laptop. When we get where we're going, she unfolds her wings and gets me connected on the local network at a reasonable price (no more horrendous roaming data bills for this Ladybug!) and we're ready to buy a coffee or other essential fluid. In a matter of minutes.

Her toolkit was upgraded tonight by the addition of a paperclip from the office box thoughtfully provided by the hotel. Now I can actually get the SIM out of the phone...

It's a really good feeling to make one of the small steps to the efficiency I wrote about earlier.





Saturday - full of good things

Pretty close to the perfect day:
  • poached eggs were just right
  • Singing lesson helpful
  • Sewing date with pals fun and got more done than expected
  • Rehearsal intense and rewarding
  • Evening with BFF and family a true joy and blessing
I am grateful

....written at 3am Sunday. I thought I'd posted it then too. Possibly 3am is not my optimum operating period. Still good! :-)



 


Working too much

I needn't have worried about not working enough





Turns out I go to the office via Commute Number 2 and some days it's past midday when I realise I'm still in my PJs and haven't had breakfast yet.

That's not so clever, and I'm getting better at looking after the worker. 

I'm taking it as a good sign - I'm really focused on my work, interested in what I'm doing, and the housework doesn't have a chance of distracting me. Not that there was any great danger from that quarter.  I'm definitely working more hours than I did in a conventional workplace. This is mostly due to the following:

  • there's a lot to do, and I don't want to create a backlog, since I didn't inherit one (bless you, Mr Predecessor!)
  • everything's needed by someone else, and I don't want to Let Them Down

...both compounded by the worst thing of all... I'm so SLOW


This is the first time in years that I've had a job that I don't already know how to do. No doubt it's very good for me, but it is hard operating at something like 40% competence. Everything seems to take such a long time, and I'm not as confident of my work as I like to be.

Fortunately I'm in an amazing team and my colleagues are very helpful in teaching as I go. It's important to remember that this is a temporary state - I can already see the day, not far off, where I know *how* to do what I'm doing at least 90% of the time. Then we'll see some proper "productivity" as well as a bit more flair and creativity

Not working enough

When I took on a job that has me working from home, I was a bit worried.
Worried about whether I would actually work.


After all, I have a Masters in Procrastination, with a Major in Self-Distraction and these are some of my specialties:
  • like to sleep
  • like to read
  • like to make art
  • like to tweet
  • like to go shoe-shopping
  • like to walk on the beach.
  • With enough time I even like to cook 
There are also the great truths that:
  • the garden needs serious work
  • the freezer needs defrosting
  • the bathroom needs painting
  • so does the pantry
  • what's that interesting jar back there? - ooh! brandied apricots...
No matter how attractive working from home appears, I cannot expect my customers or employer to step aside for me to do this stuff. Even though all these things are in my face in my work space.

The thing is... there's NOBODY looking. Nobody to note how much time or effort I put into my day, when I'm in the office or out of it. Nobody to bolster my willpower and reinforce my self-discipline.  I truly had no idea how much of my work ethic is actually located inside other people, and based in their expectations. Also, not so great at resisting temptation. Worrying.

My art work is completely different - it's all self-driven in terms of content and timing. It's great if *you* like it, but I really don't care. I'm learning to do it when the work and I are ready, so rate of progress isn't a significant measure either. No concerns about Letting Anyone Else Down

I had a lot of worried thoughts about all this.

Tune in tomorrow  - same Bat-time, same Bat-channel - to discover what actually happens


Out the window today...

The first roses!
...the tiny pink blobs almost dead centre.  Well, I could see them, and that's all that matters. Rosa chinensis 'Mutabilis', my favourite. And the only one I can reliably grow.


There was also Kārearea, the NZ falcon, briefly perched in the tree opposite the window. Never seen one there before. Perfect camouflage, completely fooled the camera. Nothing to see here, move along.

Chatter, natter, gossip, burble, talk

On Day 3 of my New Entrants' class, Sister Mary Loyola* put a clothes peg on my tongue, bet you can guess why.

It didn't work.

Talking must be the childhood skillset I have exploited most - it's right up there in daily practice with eating and toilet training.  I can't resist a natter, excepting only on that cursed contraption the telephone.

It's not for lack of mathematical ability that I can't count the times I've wished I'd kept my mouth shut. Often immediately after some stupid/hurtful/indiscreet/inaccurate blabber escaped. On a couple of wincingly notable occasions, it's been a combination of all four. Humiliation high score!

Anyway, all that wishing is slowly taking effect. Conversations are actually more fun when you let the other guys have a turn, I have found. Amazing! Listening means you learn stuff. And of course there is the reduced potential for making those dumb comments.

I've long since forgiven Sister Mary Loyola for the peg incident.  After all, it's a great story, and she did gift me with perfect apostrophe control. Of which more later.


*Did anyone read my first school teacher's name as Sister Mary Loquacious? Ironic, innit?



The price


Most wonderful things have a price.

In the case of my fascinating and rewarding new job, that price is my music. In the first month, work travel meant that I missed five rehearsals and three singing lessons. If you read my earlier posts about singing, you will understand how big that price is.

My daily practice routine faltered badly too. One is reluctant to sing an hour of vocal exercises at full volume, considering the effect on your neighbour in the next hotel room. The walls are not really thick enough!  I wonder what the great divas do?  

If I miss any more rehearsals before the end of June, I won't meet the preparation criteria to be part of the concert choir. We are performing the Verdi Requiem and the Holst Planets Suite with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. It's a big deal and will be marvelous. The Holst is on my bucket list. It's not regularly performed, so I might never get another chance.
 
If you want to hear this great stuff, go here to book a ticket. I'll do my very best to be on the stage, singing my heart out for you. If that doesn't work out, I'll be in the audience with you. I'll be the one wearing a gag.



Muriwai

Muriwai is the beach closest to my home. I love to go there in all seasons and weathers. 

It's notorious for danger and drownings, so even though I'm a good swimmer and enjoy the surf, I don't swim unless the lifeguards are on duty.

Instead I walk to the outlet of Okiritoto stream. Some days the Sou'wester wind is so strong the return trip takes twice as long as getting there.

Fine-grained dark sand is sorted by the sea into subtle patterns of chocolate, charcoal and inky blue-black. There is always something small to see, to balance the infinite stretch of the sea and sky and sand.

Sometimes there's spinifex spiky seedballs blowing before the southerly. Other times the froth from the waves makes a creamy foam coverlet from water's edge to dunetop.

For about one week in each spring, gloriously royal purple sea snails Janthina violacea or Janthina janthina wash up. More often the pearl-white coiled float chamber of Spirula decorates the tide line.

Like those eternal waves, I always return to the black sand.

The Commute. Part 1

it's not every day that you see Taranaki before breakfast...

 and Tongariro on the way home.


If that wasn't enough; in between, a day with a wonderful group of smart, generous, positive professionals. Fab.

The Commute. Part 2

 The physical and mental journey to the home office

  1. Stumble towards Horrible Noise at the other end of the house
  2. Turn off the alarm (in the office. If it were in the bedroom I would turn it off and go back to sleep)
  3. Go to bathroom. Clean teeth.
  4. Go back to office. Step on to yoga mat laid out previous night. 
  5. Do five Sūrya Namaskāra  and any other pose that feels useful
  6. Roll up yoga mat, turn on computer.
  7. Go to kitchen. Make coffee.
  8. Return to office with coffee. Commute complete.
Be grateful there are no photographs of this journey


On rejection

I'd like to say it was a new experience, and it was the novelty that upset me.

Of course the reality is, like everyone else on the planet, I've had plenty of experience with rejection.

It was a new experience to have an artwork - one of my quilts - rejected for a show. This is mostly because I haven't entered many juried shows, not because my work is always accepted.

The feelings of pain, anger and worst of all, shame, were surprisingly intense. Fortunately short-lived too - experience enriched with an effective course of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy allows me to 'get over it and get on with it'

Today I listened to cricketer Martin Crowe talk about his life and career and my attention was caught by how he discussed his failures.

It might as well have been the same thing: rejection=failure ... and all too easily follows with:

I'm not good enough

I'm still learning to not make that step. To untangle exterior occurrences like rejections, failures, being beaten, from my sense of my own value. I'm grateful that my quilt was not accepted into that show. I practiced dealing with it as a factual occurrence that didn't mean anything *about* me. It means something *to* me, but that's different.


Plan B: if the webcam isn't working



...this blown-glass dolls' eye!

It's hollow and slightly over life-size. The glass is thinner than those lovely old Christmas tree baubles we old girls remember so fondly, and the iris & pupil are hand-laid. Slightly wonkily. 

Fortunately its gaze tends to be a little downcast, or I would always be feeling that someone was watching me in the office. Its partner, and the whole of the rest of Fraulein Gretchen's exquisite porcelain face, were smashed many years ago.  Only this incredibly delicate eye survived the tragedy.

A jar of pickled muses


Here is my remaining collection of antique half-dolls, fairies, skulls, hands and other porcelain body parts, some collected but mostly made by me in my vintage ceramic arts phase. I had a lot of fun doing this, but eventually you realise you really don't need more than one pair of hands. Pickling them in the jar is a lot easier than dusting.

I'll take advice from anywhere and these gals have much wisdom to offer, especially "Hang on to your hat!"

Procrastination or Preparation?

So, here's a work in progress ... for a very long time. Scroll down if you're impatient for a peek.

The muddy pink fabrics are mostly someone else's discarded stash, an unwise acquisition in my very early quilting days.
Some lovely woman taught me the 3D flying geese technique when I admired it at a quilt show at least seven years ago - it took me ages to find the paper napkins with the method notes
...and I've been collecting "sky" fabrics forever.

At last the ideas came together and I began making pink geese (aka flamingos) and putting them together into flying flocks

They rested, with some yellow that I later edited out, in a box for several more years, until Suddenly! came the inspiration to finish. There were more pink birds than blue sky bits. There was the great Sorting of the Stash, and a little shopping, cut enough blue bits, sewed them together. I have about 40 placemat-sized bits, how to make a quilt out of that?

Put a big sheet on a pal's floor, lay the bits down & rearrange. And rearrange, and again. Start to see a decent design. Pin the bits to the sheet, roll it up...and stuff it in a bag for a few months. Hang the sheet up over a big window cos there's not enough floor at home. Find that too difficult, roll it all again and back in the bag for three months.

Fall over it in the studio. Fit of impatience. Will it fit on the bed? Well enough. Roll it out, rearrange again, start cutting & sewing in plain sky pieces as needed between the flocks. Need the bed for sleeping in tonight, better get this finished today! And it was.

And then I thought - ooh, Christmas holidays, IF I were well-organised I might be able to quilt it before I go back to work. Made the backing in a day. Went to my excellent local quilt store All Things Patchwork, where the lovely Cheryl didn't just sell me superb batting, she let me use her big tables & even helped me pin baste - all in a day.

Took it home, looked at it for five long days and couldn't do a stitch. Fold it, stuff it bulkily in a bag and leave for three more months ... when I suddenly get an idea for quilting, draw designs, make stencils, layout, make a technique sample - over 2 days - and then put it back in the bag.

Monday June 3rd I started quilting and it went like a dream. In two hours at least an eighth is stitched and I'm very happy with it. I've left it in the machine, bunched so the cat can't sleep on it. Who knows when I'll work on it again.

The thing is, all those long guilty procrastinating intervals might be some kind of preparation for the high-achieving bursts of activity when the project moves ahead effortlessly. Maybe everything just takes the time it needs to take.

a little company in the studio/office

The world's politest cat:
  • does not sit on the newspaper. 
  • does not interfere with knitting
  • does not get underfoot in the kitchen
  • ignores human food
  • waits patiently for his own serving
He does have a tiny weakness for ice-cream, and occasionally puts a prickly paw on my leg, just to remind me he'd like a pat.

Otherwise, a gently rumbling companion, a little camera-shy, somewhere nearby. Reminding me of the strength and charm of dignity and good manners.

What's on my design wall?

Something green/blue/yellow with triangles

For this work, I am returning to a method I haven't used for a long time - the design wall
  1. select the materials
  2. cut some/all of it up into whatever shapes 
  3. arrange the pieces on a design surface until pleased
  4. sew it all together
This is unusual for me - to know how the finished work will look before I even start sewing. It's a great method for a planned effect, and I have a strong vision for this work, so the design wall is the way to get me there. I do need a bigger design surface. Getting a big enough sheet of polystyrene home is the trick. And finding a place to store it...

The fabrics are GREAT! a few commercial prints, but most of this amazing stuff is from the fabulous women at Distressed Threads - my favourite source of unique artisan fabrics.

Here is what I think will be one-third of the finished work.

 Next time you see it, it will look completely different. Rearranging is the fun part!

Change of style...change of everything!

May was the month when it seemed like everything changed.

I stopped working for local government - and started working for a foreign company.

I said goodbye to a fantastic group of people I've waved to, hugged, eaten lunch with, co-authored documents with, backed up and been bailed out by for over a year. That was hard.  In balance, I'm slowly meeting by email and teleconference my new colleagues, who are mostly warm and welcoming.

And finally, as a change from going to the same old office every day, of the 23 working days of May, I spent 13 days at work in Australia.

The other days I worked at home in my re-purposed studio - now Studio/Office.
More on this in later posts.