Meet Ms. Dewey. Search engine plus snark. Would you use it on a regular basis? Or just for novelty a couple of times and then back to Google?

I’ve decided that the best way to clean windows is while there is a snowy landscape outside.

“If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.”

–Frederick Douglas

It’s snowing!

If you do NetFlix… check out the documentary Who Killed the Electric Car.

It’s worth seeing.

It’s not a perfect telling of the situation (see Wikipedia), but it brings into sharp relief what we are up against. Change doesn’t come easy.

Movie synopsis:

“It was among the fastest, most efficient production cars ever built. It ran on electricity, produced no emissions and catapulted American technology to the forefront of the automotive industry. The lucky few who drove it never wanted to give it up. So why did General Motors crush its fleet of EV1 electric vehicles in the Arizona desert?

WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR? chronicles the life and mysterious death of the GM EV1, examining its cultural and economic ripple effects and how they reverberated through the halls of government and big business.

The year is 1990. California is in a pollution crisis. Smog threatens public health. Desperate for a solution, the California Air Resources Board (CARB) targets the source of its problem: auto exhaust. Inspired by a recent announcement from General Motors about an electric vehicle prototype, the Zero Emissions Mandate (ZEV) is born. It required 2% of new vehicles sold in California to be emission-free by 1998, 10% by 2003. It is the most radical smog-fighting mandate since the catalytic converter.

With a jump on the competition thanks to its speed-record-breaking electric concept car, GM launches its EV1 electric vehicle in 1996. It was a revolutionary modern car, requiring no gas, no oil changes, no mufflers, and rare brake maintenance (a billion-dollar industry unto itself). A typical maintenance checkup for the EV1 consisted of replenishing the windshield washer fluid and a tire rotation. But the fanfare surrounding the EV1’s launch disappeared and the cars followed. Was it lack of consumer demand as carmakers claimed, or were other persuasive forces at work?

Fast forward to 6 years later… The fleet is gone. EV charging stations dot the California landscape like tombstones, collecting dust and spider webs. How could this happen? Did anyone bother to examine the evidence? Yes, in fact, someone did. And it was murder.

The electric car threatened the status quo. The truth behind its demise resembles the climactic outcome of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express: multiple suspects, each taking their turn with the knife. WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR? interviews and investigates automakers, legislators, engineers, consumers and car enthusiasts from Los Angeles to Detroit, to work through motives and alibis, and to piece the complex puzzle together.

WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR? is not just about the EV1. It’s about how this allegory for failure—reflected in today’s oil prices and air quality—can also be a shining symbol of society’s potential to better itself and the world around it. While there’s plenty of outrage for lost time, there’s also time for renewal as technology is reborn in WHO KILLED THE ELECTRIC CAR?”
–© Sony Pictures Classics

So… we had quite the little storm today. My favorite excerpt from the article:

Nonetheless, Seattleites soldier on. It was nice to see that despite the seemingly never-ending rain, all but one person walking around the Seattle Center today still weren’t carrying an umbrella.

I’m pleased to learn this, since I don’t even own one…

We’ve decided recently to make our home a “no-outdoor-shoes” kind of home. I’ve been poking around online for shoe organizers, cubbies, storage benches to see what’s out there and might work.

I’ve thought about doing this off and on. One reason I’ve always considered it is that I’m a floor sitter. I find myself sitting on the floor a lot. And, of course, having a toddler means the floors are also well used. But our most recent inspiration is a recommendation from my Dad’s naturopath. That, and I’m sweeping up leaves, pine needles, dirt and general detritus every day. Fall and winter does that to a house in the NW. All-in-all though, it just makes sense… reduced allergy problems, and less time spent cleaning up and cleaner floors in general.

For any of you out there that do the no-shoe thing… any suggestions, recommendations, things that you’ve found work great? I’d enjoy hearing what you have to say.

UPDATE: Our foray into being a no shoe household is going well. The hardest part is getting into the routine of taking off our shoes when we get home. The shoe rack we are using is temporary until we find the right permanent piece - but so far things are going well.

“Pray inwardly, even if you do not enjoy it. It does good, though you feel nothing. Yes, even though you think you are doing nothing.”

– Mother Julian of Norwich (1363-c.1416), England

Paul & I pray together in bed every evening before we go to sleep. We take turns. We switch off… so every other night, it’s my turn to pray. There are times when balk at it being my turn. There’s a couple of reasons for this:

(more…)

“If I’m going to lose, I want to lose doing something.” (emphasis mine)

The last two days have felt like winter to me. Paul & Amira were outside this afternoon. Amira puddle jumping and leaf surfing… Paul trying to corral those same leaves. I went out to talk with him. And, like 1 + 1 = 2… the color of the sky + the chilly bite in the air = winter. It’s nice.

I was talking to a customer service rep on the phone who lives in San Antonio, TX. He asked me if it was getting cold and I told him it was around 40 degrees. He replied: “See, now right there is why I live in Texas! If it gets to 65, I pull out my winter coat!”

It’s a good thing there are so many different geographic locations and climates in the US, isn’t it? To quote Mater: “I’m as happy as a tornado in a trailer park.” I love living in the Pacific NW. It’s home. And it’s winter. Nice. Super nice.

… but not the very next day.

My junior year in college, I was originally supposed to be an RA (resident assistant) for a hall in my dorm. But, at the last minute, I was removed from that position because my grades were too low. RA’s had their own dorm room and didn’t share with a roommate. I hadn’t found a roommate because of this. I was placed in a room. My new assigned roommate was less than thrilled since this meant she no longer had a room of her own. And, she & I couldn’t have been more different.

I’ll have to share the full story some time - but long story made short… Heather turned out to be the best roommate I ever had.

One of the gifts she gave me was a broader musical horizon. Our room faced out to the ocean and we would open the window and the ocean air would blow through our room. On her CD player would be music you could hear all the way down the hall (we were the last room at the end). And this is how I was introduced to Cat Stevens and I’ve been a fan of his music ever since.

Cat Stevens left his music behind when he converted to Islam in the late 70s. I wasn’t even 10 when he sold all his guitars and changed his name to Yusuf Islam.

Tomorrow, he’s back. He’s releasing a new album called An Other Cup.

Apparently I’m late in hearing about this. Rolling Stone only gives it 2.5 out of 5 stars… but the average user rating is 4 out of 5. I’ll admit, my allegiance is with Cat. I’m looking forward to getting myself a copy. To listen to the album, you can check it out here.

Welcome back, Cat. You’ve been missed.

Paul sent this to me with the subject line - “beautiful, funny and sad.”  He summed it up perfectly.

If this person hasn’t been scooped up by Pixar…

We pulled into Camp Casey and Mom picked up the key to the house we were staying in. Built in 1899, these houses were once officer housing. Amazing homes really. The house we stayed in was a duplex. At around 2000 sq ft., not counting the basement and attic spaces, these duplexes are huge. We unpacked, stocked the kitchen, and made our beds while Amira explored the stairs, the extra bedrooms and their beds, and open and shut every door in the place. (This era of home has *A LOT* of doors!)

The front rooms looked out onto what was the parade field when Camp Casey was a functioning military base. The wide open grassy field was perfect for running, playing and flying kites. If you looked to the right from our front door, you’d see the water.

We quickly found out that Camp Casey has their own resident deer. We went out to see them with Amira. There were 4 does and a buck. One of the does was especially interested in Amira. Amira walked to them as though they were and always had been friends. The doe allowed her within a foot or less of her. It was so sweet to see pure innocence and curiousity in both of them.

After, Paul wanted to fly the kite. And while he wanted to fly the kite, I’d have to tell you that it was more of an attempt to to fly the kite. It wasn’t really Paul’s fault though. The wind was terribly sporadic, violent and then gone. With Amira running around on the field, there were a few moments of fright as I watched the speed and force of the kite colliding with the ground. A mother’s imagination can be a scary thing. Anyway, the next day, between my Dad & Paul, they figured out some tricks and had a lot more success.

While Paul worked his kiting skills, Amira wanted to walk the beach. When most people picture a beach, you think sand and water. On this beach, there was the water, only a little sand, then an expanse of small and large smooth rocks, and finally piles of horizontally splayed driftwood. In a few spots, the driftwood had been, by prior visitors, arranged into interesting sculptures. Farther down the beach, Amira & I saw two “forts” that took someone or a team of someones quite a bit of time to create. As we walked, we were hemmed in by the small, lapping grey and foamy waves on our left and the grassy bluffs rose up on our right. Amira held my hand as our feet crunched and sunk through the deep rocks. It was hard walking work. After we had gone quite a distance, I realized we had probably start heading back before Amira got too tired and wanted to be carried. As we turned, Amira must have read my mind. She stopped in front of me, arms raised, and said “Up?!” I thought the walk down was hard…

It struck me this evening how much I think about posting to my blog versus how much I actually do post to my blog.  Something will cross my mind and I’ll think about writing on it.  Then, before I do, I think something along the lines of… “Well, that’d be out of left field if I wrote about that, now wouldn’t it?”  Another deterrent is how much time I would need to research, write and edit on a topic to feel right talking about it… and that I just “don’t have the time.” I’ve given myself so many excuses not to write, that I barely do.

And completely out of left field, I can’t stop eating these dried mangos.