Thursday, January 28, 2010

Words: Sleight-of-hand – Sleight-of-foot

Have you noticed that people have taken to bragging, "I walk or I run 5K every day." Well, I was impressed until I realized that a K is not even a mile but .62 of a mile and 5K is only 3 miles.

I brisk walk a minimum of 5 miles every day, so 3 miles doesn’t impress me overmuch. Being an American, I use miles, and don’t really get why everyone is using metric for their running or walking. Maybe because, well, 5K does sound more impressive than 3 miles.

I’ll continue with my miles except when I respond to someone touting their 5K. My 8K trumps their 5 everyday.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Mixed Media

I took a break from the studio;
poured a glass of wine and put dinner in the oven;
went back to the studio to work on painting;
set the glass down and picked up a loaded brush;
plunged brush into my wine instead of water;
time to head for the couch with a fresh glass of wine, cat, and a book and wait for the timer to announce dinner.

As Scarlet said, Tomorrow is another day.

© Perle Champion
For more art:  Perle's Art Page 

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Soy to the World

My morning coffee is a daily ritual. In summer, I have it iced, but in winter I serve it so hot a scorched tongue is a real possibility. A lot of people have their morning coffee with cream or flavored with various artificial things, or black which is my preference except for my first cup.

My first cup is where I get my daily dose of soymilk. I hate soymilk, so why drink it? Well, it is supposedly good for women of a certain age, and I try to do some things that are good for me, so I can get away with the things they say are bad for me. (I’m not sure who they are).

But I hate soymilk, so I experimented and found the solution –S
ilk’s chocolate soymilk added to my morning coffee is like drinking coffee flavored chocolate. Now, I could have just poured it in and stirred, but I wanted something special. I took a page from the Mayans who added hot peppers to their chocolate, which by the way was brewed in water not milk – coffee is just hot brown water. Voila! I’ve made my own caffeinated ambrosia.

I grind my beans and measure into the filter,
sprinkle 3 or more dashes of cayenne and 3 or more dashes of cinnamon on top of the grounds then put the pot on to brew. I pour the chocolate soymilk into my cup before hitting the shower or on colder days put it in a small saucepan to heat.

I love cayenne. They say capsaicin (the heat in hot peppers) is addictive; it triggers the endorphins. I believe it. I put cayenne on and in pretty much everything.

Soymilk is another thing, but as I said, it’s supposed to be good for women of a certain age. Silk’s saving grace is the chocolate in their soymilk – real Dutch process cocoa There are few things chocolate – real chocolate - I would turn down.

© Perle Champion

Friday, January 1, 2010

Seti’s Chronicles 12.31.2012

Chapter 1 or Prologue:

Where do I begin except here, pen in hand at the window of my aerie. I look down the long and winding road that is the past and I wonder that so many of us came through to this best of possibilities.

There were times I didn’t think our world would survive, much less any of us. All the plans, the hard work, and the hope against overwhelming odds - I cannot now even contemplate - worked. It worked, not exactly, not precisely as imagined, but it worked. We are here, and we have another chance, a better chance, with so much saved this time. I look at our small cadre of warriors, for that is what we are, warriors as of old.

I come up to the very top room of this old stone home, to my sanctuary away from all the wistful eyes and hopeful hearts that daily leach my strength from me.

Only here, in this high place, at my window with the small flashlight my brother gave me hung just so to illuminate the page in front of me – how many years ago. And where is he today? Dead or alive? I only know he is not here - not here. I could not convince him to come. I think since his Phyllis died – his wife of 29 years – he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. Life has become a chore without his helpmeet.

I imagine him on his farmhouse porch, whiskey in hand, toasting me even as the earth rent asunder and saying “Here’s to the end, I had a good run.” And He did. He loved and was loved, he worked with integrity, brought a beautiful healthy child into the world. He lived his life his way and now with Phyllis gone, he’d just as soon pass on and will not run from death.

Doubt among the masses still exists, but many are grateful. The old enemies are still among us as well: envy, greed, fear of the unknown. But they are old enemies – known enemies; we’ll survive them as we ever have. It is enough, at least for me, that we were not literally sent back to the cave. We saved so much of who we are and what we know, that civilization will not take an eon to rebuild this time.
It’s still touch and go, we can’t save everyone. To try would doom us all. Now the work begins. Little by little, we have to go out into what remains of our world; make contact and piece by piece reassemble society. The old refrain is true, united we stand, divided we fall. Will I live to see it done? Perhaps, some. My calling was scribe, and now we’ve come through the most perilous part of this journey, I can resume that mantle.

Where do I begin, for begin I must, to put our story in some order for the future, for our children, for posterity. I want them to know what it took to bring us through the Fall to here. The ‘Fall’, so simple a word for that day – so trite. That crisp crystal afternoon just ten days ago stands out in high relief.

© Perle Champion