Chez Danisse

When We Shook Walls and Scared Cats

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 23 May 2013 16:40:00 +0000

Breakfast, May 23, 2013

Returning from a quiet breakfast today I put my key into the front door of our apartment building. Just as I turn the doorknob I hear a car radio behind me playing Jessie's Girl, loudly, and I think back to a summer in Junior High.

We'd moved into an apartment "in town" and my younger sister and I would blast this song, and a variety of others, when my father wasn't home. One day a little old lady, apparently our neighbor, knocked on our door and asked us to please turn down the music because we were shaking her walls and scaring her cat. We shut the door, turned down the music, and proceeded to laugh hysterically.

The car stayed parked out front for a while, Rick Springfield belting out his lyrics about Jessie, hoping to soothe his longing.

Thinking of you today, little sis.

Original Jessie's Girl video on YouTube

of note

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Mon, 20 May 2013 19:17:00 +0000

The visions reading the word moonlit conjure.

Those People

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 15 May 2013 17:29:00 +0000

Green Street, 2013

Do you notice those people? Do they stand out for you as they do for me? Those who quietly knock on the restaurant restroom door and pause before turning the doorknob. The drivers who slow when they see a pedestrian in the crosswalk. The people who let commuters off the bus before attempting to board. And those who are kind to flight attendants, cashiers, and janitorial staff--even when it is a one-time encounter and they have no more to gain than perhaps a relieved smile

They live intentionally. They make this world softer, more inhabitable. They allow us to let our stiff defenses rest for a moment, and this space reminds us just how good the rest feels, like sunlight on cold skin.

A Sentence from a Poem

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Sun, 05 May 2013 02:43:00 +0000

Petals, 2013

This light, young as it never will be again.

A sentence from a poem, Going Home Day, from a volume of poetry I bought this morning, Leaving Yuba City by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

As the Mind Twirls

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 01 May 2013 19:04:00 +0000

Dust, Wood, Books, Light, 2013

Yesterday during an appointment with a hair stylist I experienced the indulgence of having my hair washed by someone other than myself and contemplated the creation of a hair shampooing robot.

Books. They've contributed to my life in so many ways. How will electronic publishing change this contribution? I've tried reading from an iPad mini. It was okay, it didn't kill me, but there was something a little sad about it. The reading felt less intimate.

Often my workouts take place in an old theatre transformed into a gym. It's a unique space, but this isn't my point. Today while on the second floor looking down at people sweating on various pieces of gym equipment I thought of body shape. Imagine all of the physical labor involved in a pre-industrial society. Body shape for many must have been determined by profession. A plowman most likely had well-developed leg muscles due to his maneuvering on foot throughout the day while a seated coachman probably had weaker leg muscles. Today most of the work we do doesn't require muscle, we have more control over our shape.

The unusual May heat here this morning reminds me of Salina.

Kathleen Jamie has me wandering around the Bergen Natural History Museum's Hvalsalen, in my mind, contemplating enormous whale skeletons.

Cut peonies fade too quickly.

Weekend Project

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 00:16:00 +0000

One of Two, 2013

Done.

Two little rustic mats (6" x 7 1/4") for hot plates, bowls, ramekins, or even small pots.

If you'd like to make your own, it won't take much time. You might even have the materials on hand.

I used a ball of twine, two size 13/9.0mm knitting needles, and scissors.

Cast on 16 stitches and knit, purl, knit, purl each row until you reach about 7 inches (or your desired length) and cast off. Weave in ends.

That's it.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend.

~Denise

Toast

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:05:00 +0000

New Landscape, 2013

I prepared a slice of toast that rivaled the memory I have of my mother's toast. This was something I believed out of my reach. And then today it happened.

Light brown, just to the point where the face of the bread is crisp enough to create a solid sound when tapped with a fingernail. Then a thin layer of salted butter to seep into the crispness and soften it, slightly.

A bite at this point is lovely, and a corner dipped into warm maple syrup sweetened oatmeal is heaven.

It feels funny, like this is a threshold I was not supposed to cross, and the universe will lean slightly off-kilter until I trip and fall.

Old & New

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 20:11:00 +0000

Faded, 2013

I'm considering something new, joining a book club. Have you ever belonged to a book club? Did you like it?

Springtime

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 17:04:00 +0000

Today I woke an hour and a half earlier than usual. I'm between things. Current work must rest. After the initial thud felt upon completing a project phase there is new energy. The mind is more active, more free to wander. I've busied myself in other ways, ways that occupy the body and keep the mind free.

My thoughts continue to return to the senseless pain and sadness in Boston. A reminder that things can change so quickly. We are not always in control. I look around and appreciate my now.

We've had sun and wind here. A choppy bay. So much is in bloom. I found out I'll have a poem in Taproot this June. We have strawberries. I've finished reading one book and have selected another.

If you are in the mood for peaceful music, you might enjoy this soothing song mix. I did.

What have you been up to lately?

of note

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 17:52:00 +0000

A small boy has climbed the tree outside my window and begun yodeling.

The Same Terrain

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 18:58:00 +0000

Kitchen Light I, 2013

Kitchen Light II, 2013

Changes aren't always better, sometimes they're just different.

Change isn't always better, sometimes it's just different.

Sometimes change makes things better and sometimes it just makes things different.

Sometimes change is better and sometimes it's just different.

.............

Change is always different, sometimes it's better.

Process

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 01:38:00 +0000

Lines, 2013

I've never seen things in a linear fashion. I have to pull back, circle the task at hand as if it is prey, and then pounce on it sort of haphazardly.

There is repetition of what resembles a cycle, but it varies enough to avoid the classification. Irregularity makes analysis difficult. The process leaves me, its host, pricked with anxiety and the feeling someone else is pulling the strings.

Logical steps or equal sections are not visible to me before I take a nice long look at the whole. I'll zoom in quickly for a detail, losing focus on the way, pull back through the blur, and reach the whole again. Necessary patches of blank quiet space are randomly pressed into the process. Mealtimes and bedtimes are sometimes forgotten. There can be waking in the fog of night with a plan. Some groggy mornings, some good.

I'll turn it inside out, then back to right. I'll hang it outside to absorb the sun and allow the breeze to move through it. Give it a curt shake, as with a giant bed sheet, just to rid it of any dust that might have settled. Look at it with a tilted head, a squint. Then it is done.

And I cannot know if it is what others will desire, only that it is done, and is somehow a portrait of who I am at this moment in my life.

It is after lunch...

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 22:01:00 +0000

My Chair, 2013

I've eaten my lunch and although it was quite good I did not pay it much attention because I was perched on the edge of my bed pruning my reading list (it now holds 117 books) while eating. A terrible idea.

Tomorrow I will enjoy my lunch as Charles Arrowby does in The Sea, The Sea, seated in a proper chair, a cloth napkin draped across my lap.

But for now I must get back to work. I'd rather rent Oma & Bella, or return to The Sea, The Sea, or sleep for a bit. No, work first. Hmph. I know in the end it is what will most please me. Right after reading this excerpt one more time...

“It is after lunch and I shall now describe the house. For lunch, I may say, I ate and greatly enjoyed the following: anchovy paste on hot buttered toast, then baked beans and kidney beans with chopped celery, tomatoes, lemon juice and olive oil. (Really good olive oil is essential, the kind with a taste, I have brought a supply from London.) Green peppers would have been a happy addition only the village shop (about two miles pleasant walk) could not provide them. (No one delivers to far-off Shruff End, so I fetch everything, including milk, from the village.) Then bananas and cream with white sugar. (Bananas should be cut, never mashed, and the cream should be thin.) The hard water-biscuits with New Zealand butter and Wensleydale cheese. Of course I never touch foreign cheeses. Our cheeses are the best in the world. With this feast I drank most of a bottle of Muscadet out of my modest “cellar.” I ate and drank slowly as one should (cook fast, eat slowly) and without distractions such as (thank heavens) conversation or reading. Indeed eating is so pleasant one should even try to suppress thought. Of course reading and thinking are important but, my God, food is important too. How fortunate we are to be food consuming animals. Every meal should be a treat and one ought to bless every day which brings with it a good digestion and the precious gift of hunger.”

-- Iris Murdoch's The Sea, The Sea

On Indiscretion

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 17:12:00 +0000

Open and Closed, 2013

Do you ever look into that tiny camera lens at the top of your laptop and wonder if it could be controlled from a remote location? Do you then ponder how what you formerly believed to be your private indiscretions might be television or data collected for marketing purposes?

Your Lucky Charms. Your unmade bed. Your Lion Cat hair. They could be recording each phone call you make, every snack you smear with peanut butter, and your looking in the hall mirror as you dance alone to the songs that require it.

I went down this path recently. I knew it was ridiculous, but then I didn't. So I stuck a small blue post-it note over the lens in question.

Good Morning

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 15:31:00 +0000

Fresh Squeezed Tangelo Juice, 2013

Do something nice for yourself today.

Wednesday Evening

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 00:53:00 +0000

After 5:00, 2013

Looked at again and again half consciously by a mind thinking of something else, any object mixes itself so profoundly with the stuff of thought that it loses its actual form and recomposes itself a little differently in an ideal shape which haunts the brain when we least expect it.

-excerpt from Virginia Woolf's short story, Solid Objects

Wednesday Afternoon

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 20:24:00 +0000

Near Noon, 2013

My 3:00-3:30pm slump has arrived early today. Noon! I believe it is my shift in breakfast ingredients. I should have eaten my beloved Müesli.

I'm becoming interested in the way my energy shifts throughout the day and trying to figure out how it links to food, exercise, sleep, etc. My goal is to organize a more steady and efficient structure to my days. If you've read any interesting books or articles on these subjects, please share.

I've recently become quite addicted to Müesli, made my own particular way. It powers me through a morning like no other breakfast. My recipe is inspired by Sarah's recipe, and I've just begun adding ginger based on Megan's recipe. It is all very flexible. Play around with it.

My Müesli

Use a wide-mouth 1 pint jar with lid, or something similar, and begin by adding the dry ingredients to the jar.

6 ounces rolled oats
1 tablespoon raisins (I've tried dried pluots too--tasty!)
2 tablespoons chopped nuts (I use walnuts or almonds)
1 teaspoon sesame seeds (black, brown, or white)
1 teaspoon roasted pumpkin seeds (sunflower seeds work too)
1 tablespoon chia seeds

Add sugar and spices to suit your taste.

1 teaspoon vanilla sugar (I've also used dark brown)
a couple pinches ground ginger (or maybe allspice)
a couple pinches fresh ground cinnamon (anise seed is nice too)
a couple pinches fresh ground nutmeg
a pinch of fleur de sel

Top jar with lid and shake up the dry ingredients.

Open jar again and add milk, leaving about 1 - 1 1/2 inches space at the top of the jar. Shake or stir all ingredients in jar to wet and combine. Leave jar in your refrigerator overnight.

Take your jar out of your refrigerator in the morning and allow some of the chill to leave your jar, about 15-20 minutes.

Eat as-is or dump in a bowl and add fruit (I've tried Sarah's strawberries, and recently 1/2 fresh banana--both were great!) and have excellent energy that lasts until lunchtime.

The body sometimes does what it pleases, my afternoon slump might be something I simply learn to endure, but I'd like to do some investigating. I'd like to believe we have at least a little control over such things. It would be so cool to say goodbye to that drooping part of the day.

Suggestions welcome.

Thanks!

Wednesday Morning

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 14:57:00 +0000

Thick fog, lots of it. A wide shallow bowl of bright citrus, and one Bosc pear (Dad's favorite). Pink and gold tulips, limp yesterday evening and standing firmly at attention today. A soon-to-bloom cactus flower rising up from a little cactus I've had for years, a cactus that has never bloomed before.

It Is Not My Sun

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 07 Mar 2013 16:40:00 +0000

Writing Room, 2013

Poetry's only obligation is to the truth. Whether this truth is widely popular or not is irrelevant. It should be the best truth possible and that is the only quality that gives it any hope of survival.

On the other hand I have no belief in the notion that only a few poems are valuable and that only a few people thought to be valuable are fit to tell us which poems these are. Before you can have a cleansing of the temple you must have a temple which people should feel it is their natural right to enter. Old-boy networks are loathsome. I am delighted that Bloodaxe publish as many poets as they do. I am glad that there should be poetry in abundance. There wouldn't be if some had their way. No other poet is in my sun. It is not my sun.

-George Szirtes

The last two lines of this quote have stopped me this morning. I believe what they state translates far beyond poet.

The poets speak

Today

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Tue, 05 Mar 2013 21:35:00 +0000

Smiles from Melissa, 2013

Today I am home. Today is all mine.
Today all I want I can't seem to find.

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 20:56:00 +0000

So writing is the method of using the word as bait: the word fishing for whatever is not word. When this non-word--between the lines--takes the bait, something has been written.

from Água Viva by Clarice Lispector

Do things like this happen to you?

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 19:44:00 +0000

Gingham, 2013

Don't laugh. I know their loft is comical, but I'm here seeking empathy.

Somehow I didn't imagine 3" would stand so tall. I took my time in ordering these cushions, I was very detailed. Purchasing a good quality product was my objective and these cushions are of excellent quality. They just look a bit different than anticipated, more like beautiful layers for a large cake than kitchen chair cushions.

They are custom. No returns. So for now we'll just have to hunch a bit during meals and focus on the positive aspects of feeling elevated.

They should mellow out after a while, right? I do love the red gingham, and my husband's legs still fit beneath the table as long as he doesn't move around too much. Maybe they'll settle to 2 1/2" by this time next year.

Love

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 22:15:00 +0000

Something Red, 2012

Sending love to all of you.

Enjoy today.

xx,
Denise

Inside an Hour

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Tue, 12 Feb 2013 22:50:00 +0000

I closed Radial Symmetry, quieting Katherine's squid, her lime dust, and her tequila, and sharpened my pencil on the bottom of the table, hoping no one with white pants would cross their legs and rub against the marks I'd made.

And thought about some things.

Humiliation. Well, I should be more specific. Mild humiliation. The type that humbles, but does not disgrace. It is not futile, but clearly better when experienced in small doses. An emotion that moves an invisible marker forward and helps one grow, in hopes of avoiding future encounters.

Can something taste like youth? What do you think? It tasted like youth. Does it work?

But it was Rachael's comment that stayed with me. The possibility of our memories wandering. I imagined them traveling, visiting one mind after another, extending their stays with those they favored most, and returning to us like adult children visiting the first place they called home, their parents blinded by their new facets, focused on the comfort of their original form.

Rachael's Comment
Radial Symmetry by Katherine Larson

Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Denise | Chez Danisse) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 15:28:00 +0000

Is there anywhere to pull over? I want to make a photograph., 2013