benevolent postcard studio: january

As I worked on my February BPS postcard today,* I realized that I'd yet to show you the postcard I made for January.

-Luminarias-

First, some background: While I was home in New Mexico over the holidays, we continued our Christmas tradition of setting out luminarias along our driveway and sidewalks. These are simple lanterns created from a folded paper bag, sand, and a votive candle.

-Luminarias-

We buy ours each year from my high school's marching band. Luminaria sales have been an annual fundraiser for years, including during my stint in the band. My dad oversaw deliveries one year and approached it with the rigor of a military campaign. He divided the town's neighborhoods into sectors and then supplied each driver with a precise map. I remember how cold I was carrying out my job--riding around in the back of a truck, folding paper bags and filling them with sand.

-Our house-

Each year after we arrange and light the luminarias, I love to stand in our cul de sac for a while and simply admire their quiet glow.

I decided to use some of my luminaria photos for my January postcard.

-Postcard, front-

In honor of the new year, I included Rainer Maria Rilke's lovely lines.

-Postcard, back-

The back of the card offered instructions on how to make luminarias. My postcard recipient, Linda, lives in the UK, and so I thought the lanterns might be new to her. I hope the card completed its journey safely!

*I often wish I'd inherited my mom's gene for getting things done two weeks ahead of time. But no.

in the pink

I've seen pink clothing, shoes, mugs, water bottles, jewelry, tote bags, wristbands, laptops . . . all in support of breast cancer awareness and research.

-The Pink Truck-

Until today, I'd never seen a pink truck.

James Devaney is a local fuel company and, according to their website, "the #1 home heating oil supplier in the Boston area."* In a new program, called "Fueling a Cure," they're donating a portion of proceeds to the Massachusetts affiliate of the Susan G. Komen foundation.

I'm impressed on two counts. First, and most importantly, I think it's great that the company is engaged in philanthropy. Second, I appreciate the delivery guys, like the one I saw behind the wheel today. It takes a man secure in his masculinity to drive a pink truck.


*I was amazed, upon moving to Boston, to learn that people heat their homes with oil. Fortunately, my landlord changed our house over to gas just before I moved in. Dealing with a huge tank of oil in the basement would have been scary for this former Californian.

bag newscast

-Brown herringbone wool laptop satchel-

This bag was featured on the front page of Etsy today and instantly caught my eye. I much admire a fine herringbone, and the design reminds me of a classic school satchel. (What a good word--'satchel.') I can picture it slung over the shoulder of a smart and smartly dressed girl in a pleated plaid skirt.

More quickly than you can say "bag lady," I clicked over to Wooly Bison (great name!), the shop from whence this bag cometh. I learned that Ms. Wooly Bison recycles suit jackets and other wool garments to make her creations, often incorporating the original pockets into the bags' designs.

I've been experiencing a gray spell recently (color preference, not mood), and so I was particularly drawn to this beauty.

-Gray stripe wool satchel-

I was also excited to discover (via Abbey Goes Design Scouting) another person who shares my bag obsession. Eliza Truitt writes a blog entirely devoted to bags--specifically, tote bags.

And finally in today's bag news, I can't fail to mention one of the coolest and most surprising Christmas gifts that I received: this cutie.

-The small walk in the forest purse by Made by Hank-

I showed this purse back when I confessed my bag addiction and mentioned how impossible it was to acquire. It had already been sold when I came across it in September, and another like it never followed. Well, it turns out that the purse had already been sold because my parents had purchased it for me! My sister saw it first and suggested it to my mom as a gift for me.* Sneaky, lovely, loving family.


*My family is accepting of, if somewhat baffled by, my seemingly unquenchable yearning for bags.

the printed word

Perhaps you've noticed the newish button over to the right. And perhaps you've clicked it and discovered that it leads here, to this statement:

"We support the printed word in all its forms: newspapers, magazines and, of course, books. We think reading on computers or phones or whatever is fine, but it cannot replace the experience of reading words printed on paper. We pledge to continue reading the printed word in the digital era and beyond."

The Printed Word campaign, as I think of it, was started by two friends (this person and this person) and appears to be propagating quietly, blog by blog. (The latter conclusion was based on a quick Google search--I don't know if the campaign's founders or anyone else is formally measuring its reach.)

The irony of promoting the printed word via blogs is not lost on me. The very fact, however, that bloggers are behind the campaign is one reason it appeals to me. The book versus Kindle wars are nothing new; I like this pledge because it omits the "versus." Books (and magazines and newspapers), it says, can coexist happily with technology, so long as we don't forget their unique value.

For me, that value is partly sensory. I'm one of those bibliophiles who loves the physical book itself: the crispness of the paper, the colors of the binding, the design of the cover. A stack of books has a comforting presence. I enjoy the physical experience of reading books, snug in bed, a kitty curled against my side, time slipping away unnoticed as the pages slip by.

Author Eric Weiner contemplated the contrasts between books and e-books in a recent NPR story. Another bibliophile, he argues that books are special, asking, "Why else are we so careful not to bend their spines? Why else do we grant them honored space in our living rooms, our bedrooms?" He also makes the excellent point that electronic media is filled with distractions, "a noisy, crowded place, filled with sports stars and politicians and celebrities," and he concludes wistfully, "I'm afraid the reader might not even notice I'm there."

I like most technology. In fact, today I had a lively conversation with a good friend about the relative merits and uses of laptops, iPhones, Kindles, and the newly unveiled and unfortunately named iPad. Having run out of stuff to read halfway through a trip on more than one occasion, I appreciate how great an e-book reader would be for travel.

When it comes to reading in my day-to-day life, however, I will continue to reach for the books stacked on my nightstand or wedged into chronically full bookshelves or tucked into my bag. Nothing else compares.

a gorgeous gladiator

-Cyprus vachetta gladiator sandal-

I really wasn't into the many-strapped gladiator sandal that was so popular last summer. I knew it wouldn't work for me: wrapping wide, flat feet in countless skinny straps from toe to ankle wouldn't exactly downplay the width and flatness.

This sandal, however, I love. Clean lines, sturdy buckle, no ouchie toe ring--all beautiful. Alas, sandal weather is a distant dream (winter often lasts until May in Boston), but when my feet finally emerge in alarming pallor from warm socks and sturdy boots and clogs, they'd enjoy soaking up some sunshine* in this sandal.


*While wearing sunscreen, of course.

benevolent postcard society: bonus card from hedy

I was fortunate enough to receive BPS postcards for September, October, and November. (I'm overdue on photographing the November one; I've decided on just the right setting and should get to it later this week.) December came and went with no card, however, and I was feeling a bit sad.

Then a gracious and generous BPS member, Hedy from Australia, offered to send bonus postcards to five members who had missed out, and I got to be one of them! I received her beautiful card last week.

-Hedy's postcard, with Isabel-
[Isabel's version of this caption: -Isabel, with Hedy's postcard-]

I was amazed and touched because Hedy not only created this lovely card, but also took time to learn about me by reading this blog. She somehow figured out that I love cats--hence the wonderful photo, which she took in Amsterdam--and she included in her message congratulations for my mom on her recent graduation.

Hedy recently opened her own little webshop, featuring charming owl softies, nifty jewelry, pretty fabric pouches, . . . and handmade, personalized postcards like this one.

black umbrellas

Every morning on The Writer's Almanac, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and offers fascinating tidbits about the day's significance in literary and other cultural history. His poetry selections are thoughtful, moving, often funny, and always accessible, even in the harried course of everyday life. At the end of each program, he bids listeners to "Be well, do good work, and keep in touch."

The Writer's Almanac airs on stations across the country, or you can read the daily entries online or by e-mail subscription. Over the years I've subscribed, I've amassed a collection of favorite poems, quotations, and biographies. Mr. Keillor has also edited two anthologies of selections from The Writer's Almanac, titled Good Poems and Good Poems for Hard Times.

I love this poem for its vibrant sense of place and because I like the idea of umbrellas borrowed and then deliberately lost again to be found by the next person in need, a lending library maintained by the benevolence of strangers.

Black Umbrellas
Rick Agran, from Crow Milk

On a rainy day in Seattle stumble into any coffee shop
and look wounded by the rain.

Say Last time I was in I left my black umbrella here.
A waitress in a blue beret will pull a black umbrella

from behind the counter and surrender it to you
like a sword at your knighting.

Unlike New Englanders, she'll never ask you
to describe it, never ask what day you came in,

she's intimate with rain and its appointments.
Look positively reunited with this black umbrella

and proceed to Belltown and Pike Place.
Sip cappuccino at the Cowgirl Luncheonette on First Ave.

Visit Buster selling tin salmon silhouettes
undulant in the wind, nosing ever into the oncoming,

meandering watery worlds, like you and the black umbrella,
the one you will lose on purpose at the day's end

so you can go the way you came
into the world, wet looking.

Featured on The Writer's Almanac on September 8, 2008.

(photo, titled "Umbrella Day," by Gregory Bastien on Flickr)

my butter dish, clarissa

This lovely lady recently took up residence in my kitchen. Her name is Clarissa.*

We met at Anthropologie. (That place is dangerous: temptations abound for both home and wardrobe!) Her sweet expression and exquisite taste in vintage clothing hinted that we'd get along famously.

She kindly keeps the butter fresh in the handy storage space beneath her skirts. And she makes me smile each time I peek into the refrigerator.


* I believe certain things ought to be named, as some of my dear readers already know. Snow plows, cars (Madeline, Felicity), bicycles (Mathilda), computers (Jane, Lucy, Rosalind). After all, many inanimate objects have personalities, too, and the world is friendlier with less anonymity.

my hamster, harrison

I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, but I have a cartoon hamster, and I'm quite taken with him. His name is Harrison.

Harrison lives on my Google home page.* He does all of the endearing hamster things that one would want a hamster to do.

He runs on his wheel, of course. A lot. But silently!

He drinks from his water bottle.

He cleans his tiny paws. He's a very tidy hamster and keeps a very clean cage.

He sleeps. (One of my favorite behaviors--isn't he adorable?)

He eats hamster food pellets. To feed him, I simply click my mouse. One click = one pellet.

When he's hungry, he gets droopy, like this. And he follows my cursor around until--click!--I feed him.

He also blinks, but I'm not fast enough to capture a shot of that.

Part of me knows, of course, that Harrison is the invention of a clever programmer.** Another less rational part of me actually feels guilty when I haven't fed him for a while and he's looking droopy. He's so cute and realistically hamster-like that it evokes all of my pet owner instincts.

My mom has a cartoon hamster, too. She accidentally acquired two of them at first, but I quickly convinced her to "return" one, pointing out that two would be too much responsibility. She's convinced that hers gets fatter as she feeds him. She's been away from home and her computer for the past few days, and she's worried that the hamster will waste away in her absence. (I told her that I don't think he can actually perish.)

My brother and I had real-life hamsters when we were young, named Willie and Sweetie. They're now resting in peace in what used to be an empty lot and a few years later became the land beneath the Morgans' house (little do the Morgans know). I loved Sweetie, who was officially mine, but I admit that I have no desire to adopt a real hamster now. I don't miss the stinky cedar bedding or cleaning the cage once a week, plus a real hamster would be in constant peril from Izzy and Maisie.

But Harrison? I think he's perfect.

*You, too, can have a cartoon hamster on your Google home page, if you wish. Click on the "Add stuff" link at the top right of the page, then search for "hamster" using the "Search for gadgets" box on the right. A list of hamster gadgets will come up, but Harrison's sibling is first (at the time of this post, anyhow), with rival hamsters below. Click the "Add it now" button, below the hamster's picture, to adopt your new pet.
**Harrison was created by Adam Bowman.

saying good-bye

Last week, we lost my Uncle Sto, one of my dad's eldest brothers, to recurrent prostate cancer. His funeral service was held today in Phoenix, where Dad grew up and most of his large family still reside.

Uncle Sto was one of the family members who ran the flower farm that was my dad's family's business. My earliest memories of visiting my grandma's house include his sitting at the utilitarian kitchen desk, carrying on long, profanity-laced, laughter-punctuated phone conversations with customers and friends, a battered cigar stump clamped between his teeth. He was loud and gruff and loved to tease, which used to mortify me sometimes in my shyness. Looking back, I realize he had a not-so-hidden soft spot for his nieces and nephews. My mom reminded me recently that he used to let my brother ride along in his pickup truck on deliveries.

Mom, who lately mastered texting (on an old-school non-smart phone with three letters per key, no less), sent me the following after the funeral:

funeral was sAd auntie
played kenny rodgers thru
the years we all cried talk
to you tonight love mom

We will miss him.

chewy chocolatey bits of heaven

-Cookies, disappearing rapidly-

I tried my first recipe from Molly Wizenberg's fabulous Orangette blog, and oh my goodness. So delicious.

The recipe I picked was for Chewy Cocoa Cookies with Chocolate Chips since, me being me, I skipped straight to the "Cookies" section of her recipe index. She describes the cookies as being part of her repertoire, which suggested to me that they're probably 1) really yummy and 2) not too persnickety to prepare. Dear reader, I'm happy to report that both suppositions proved true.

I love chocolate chocolate chip cookies, and I love chewy cookies, and so I absolutely adore these cookies. I lost count of how many I ate in the first 24 hours after baking them. (Really, who needs to know that number, anyway?)

These have definitely joined my repertoire, too. (I don't think Molly would mind.) The great thing about the cookies, as she points out, is that they're made from easy-to-find ingredients, most of which are probably already in your pantry and fridge.

The one surprisingly difficult ingredient to locate was a small container of plain yogurt. The recipe calls for just one-third cup, but I could only find a 32-ounce carton. Guess I'll have to make several batches.

just my type

-My type-

The Pentagram design firm has created a charming little video quiz to identify your type--as in typeface, that is. I highly recommend it, particularly to those friends who are Meyers-Briggs experts (Grace and Irene!). I found it was spot on in diagnosing my type.

Access the quiz here (the password is "character"). A virtual psychotherapist--a well-dressed gentleman with a soft German accent--will prompt you to respond to four simple but cleverly posed questions. (My favorite example was the chocolates--you'll see.) He may seem a trifle impatient; as in other personality tests, it seems your immediate impression is the desired one here. Your reward for completing the quiz, however, will be the revelation of your type, accompanied by an intriguing description of its history and characteristics.

After you take the quiz, please come back and share your type in a comment!

P.S. The kitty-cat girls took the quiz, too. Isabel's type was Marina Script. Maisie's was Cooper Black Italic.

(via Automatism on Twitter; image on Hoefler & Frere-Jones)

winter style

The statues in our hospital garden are sporting some lovely hand-knitted winter accessories. Wonder if the mysterious benefactor would sponsor hospital staff, as well? I'd love a pretty scarf like the nurse's.

Now I'm off to bed at what is (for me) an incredibly early hour. I feel like I'm developing a cold, and I'm hoping that many hours of sleep will stop the viruses in their tracks. Supposing viruses leave tracks, that is . . . microscopic ones, between cells . . . .

help for haiti

-Emergency triage center in Haiti-

It has been maddening to hear of so many in need of rescue and basic supplies, while around the world aid workers and volunteers are eager to help but unable to reach them. In an age when I can order a book on Amazon and have it appear the next day on my doorstep, I feel as if we should be able to flood Haiti with assistance within hours--not days. Of course, we've seen the challenges and shortcomings of disaster responses even in a country as rich in resources as our own.

The institution within which I work has a long history of ties with Haiti, and fortunately, I think this will help it to direct aid as efficiently as possible. We learned today that a team of people from our hospital, including emergency medicine doctors, pharmacists, and surgeons, deployed yesterday and anticipated being the first U.S. medical team to arrive (perhaps even ahead of their supplies). My prayers and good wishes go with them.

It has been extremely heartening to hear of so many helping in the only way they can, with financial contributions. If you're interested in helping but haven't yet had the chance, consider donating to these organizations to support their relief efforts in Haiti:

Partners in Health

Doctors Without Borders

American Red Cross

Concern Worldwide

(photo on Partners in Health)

un joli chapeau*

I've been seeking a new winter hat, and I think I've found it.

-Brown cloche with feathers and textured ribbon-

The Swedish-born, Manhattan-based proprietress of KatarinaCouture practices the wonderfully old-fashioned art of millinery.

-Silver-gray wool velour cloche with textured ribbon-

She characterizes her hats as having "Old-time charm paired with modern fashion sense."

-Black wool cloche-

I love so many of them, but here's the one I want. It's described as "warm" and "made from black thick soft wool with a magenta silk lining." Unlike some of the fancier hats, it can be folded up and put away in a bag once one is indoors. Perfect.

Also, perhaps most importantly, the hat is custom-made to size, which means it could actually fit my gigantic head.

Note to self: acquire tape measure.

*I don't actually speak French. I just really like the French word for hat.

one big plus of nine

-The Continis-

Yesterday, Celeste and I went to see Nine. The movie has been criticized for being rich in musical numbers but thin on plot. It's indeed true that much of the story can be summarized in one sentence: Guide Contini, famed Italian director, recognizes with increasing despair that in his struggle to maintain illusion, he's lost hold of any real substance in both his films and his life. Disappointingly, not much happens beyond that epiphany; the plot consists of all crisis with no development.

Nevertheless, I'd still recommend seeing Nine. I've realized that my thumbs up criteria for a movie can be summarized in two sentences:

1. It's exceptionally good in at least one aspect.
2. I find myself still thinking about it the next day.

#2 has definitely been true, as I've been reflecting since yesterday on how Nine fulfills #1. What the movie does extremely well is convey an incredible sense of style. The numerous women in Maestro Contini's orbit certainly contribute, each stunning in a distinctive way. Marillon Cotillard was luminous as the director's wife, Luisa. Daniel Day-Lewis himself was amazing, however, infusing Contini with charisma and an innate flair even as he appears haunted and haggard.

Not to mention that the warming effect of Daniel's voice in an Italian accent counteracted delightfully the frigid temperatures outside.

(photo on Magnifique Marion Cotillard)

january bliss

Bliss equals . . .

1. four-day weekends to work on big projects (like redesigning one's blog). (January 3)

2. waiting less than a minute for the bus--especially when it's 16 degrees outside. (January 9)

3. finding one's wallet after fearing it lost forever (whew!). (January 12)

4. workday lunches with friends. (January 21)

5. feeling nearly healthy again after being sick. (January 24)

6. long, hot showers followed by thick, warm bathrobes. (January 29)

7. enough hot water to run the dishwasher simultaneously. (January 29)

8. having a dishwasher. (January 29)

(photo on Petal Picker)

well-stated in january

Quotations featured this month on what maisie knows:

"For last year's words belong to last year's language / And next year's words await another voice."
- T. S. Eliot

"As a writer, I need an enormous amount of time alone. Writing is 90 percent procrastination: reading magazines, eating cereal out of the box, watching infomercials. It's a matter of doing everything you can to avoid writing, until it is about four in the morning and you reach the point where you have to write. Having anybody watching that or attempting to share it with me would be grisly."
- Paul Rudnick

"People seldom see the halting and painful steps by which the most insignificant success is achieved."
- Anne Sullivan

"If you're going to do a thing, you should do it thoroughly."
- Muriel Spark

"If you are writing the clearest, truest words you can find and doing the best you can to understand and communicate, this will shine on paper like its own little lighthouse. Lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining."
- Anne Lamott

(portrait of T. S. Eliot by Wyndham Lewis on Today in Literature)

becky's postcard for andree

Just discovered this postcard, created using layers of rice paper, in the Benevolent Postcard Society photostream. So sweet and lovely.

reinvention

Hooray! The blog revamp is now complete. Thanks for putting up with the construction.

A rundown of the changes:

1. New name and matching URL
I was starting to feel that the old name, incidentals, didn't adequately capture all that the blog encompasses, and I wanted a name with greater personal meaning.

(By the way, no worries if you have an old bookmark: isamaisie.blogspot.com will redirect to the new site.)

To learn about my muse for the new name, please peruse the . . .

2. New About and FAQs page

After seeing this great example, I realized that I, too, could explore the infinite possibilities of an About and FAQs page created from scratch (rather than being limited to my Blogger profile). This turned out to be a wonderful opportunity for reflection on why I started the blog and what it's come to mean to me. In addition, my lists of favorite and least favorite things now reside here.

3. New design

As I read other blogs, I've realized how much I enjoy simple, unified designs that provide a visual deep breath. My blog, in contrast, felt ragtag and cluttered. With the streamlined, beautiful interfaces of blogs such as this one, this one, and especially this one as inspiration, I've striven to create a more coherent and clean design.

I also decided, for some reason, that I absolutely had to have both sidebars on the right. I'm most grateful to the authors of this post and this blog for helping me to achieve this goal (despite my knowing almost nothing about CCS and HTML).

4. Widgets in the sidebar to subscribe to posts or comments, send me an e-mail, or follow me on Twitter

Yup, I joined Twitter. Actually, I've been a member for a while but with a dormant account. I became intrigued enough to start using Twitter once I understood that it basically works like my favorite part of Facebook (the status updates). Only problem: no one I know personally at the time of this post also tweets. But you could change that . . . .

5. List of favorite blogs and links

The list, called Izzy's Picks, is sure to grow, so I've placed favorites of the favorites in the side bar. Additional favorites are listed on a linked page.

I think that's just about everything. Now I'm excited to get back to the regularly scheduled blogging program. If you have questions or suggestions for further improvements, please leave a comment!

(photo on Wizbang Blue)

snowy morning

Scenes from my walk to the animal shelter (to volunteer, not to adopt more kitties) on Sunday:

-Quiet street-

-Black and white-

-Cars belonging to canny drivers-

You don't learn this windshield wiper trick growing up in southern New Mexico.

-Three friends-

-Clyde, perhaps?-

Lots of these guys on the Boston streets these days. I particularly liked this jaunty specimen with its retro truck and sunny banana-and-lime hues. I think it deserves a name.

stained glass and snow drifts

The blog remodeling is nearly done! Thank you for your patience. In the meantime, I wanted to share these lovely images from our stairwell yesterday.

I loved how the snow was infused with jewel tones.