Lucky Tucky
People give me things. Seriously. I don’t remember quite when it started, or how, or with what, but I realized today that it happens surprisingly often. Sometimes it feels like I’m conjuring up my desires — last month I was talking about wanting a longer lens, and lo and behold, last week, a friend who’s decided to switch from Canon to Nikon passed on a fine 70-300 zoom that would otherwise be sitting unused in a closet. Other times, it’s just randomly delightful. One of my neighbors gave me a bookshelf that fits perfectly into the corner of my living room where I most needed a shelf. Another neighbor passed on the Parker 51 he used as a college student back in the ’50s, which was ready to go again once I gave it a good soaking to remove 50 years of encrusted ink. A friend with a knack for shopping once bought a cocktail dress for me just because it was on sale and looked like it might fit (it did). It just happens. And I’m surprised and grateful, every single time.
A couple of months ago, I blogged about buying a beat-up old fountain pen at the flea market and tracing its former owner with the help of a reporter at the Chron, who then wrote a fun little feature article about the whole thing. Not long after that, I got email from a guy in Washington, DC. I have no idea how he came to read the article all the way on the other side of the country, but it apparently inspired him to find me online and drop me a note offering a pen of his own in return for the one I’d let go. I replied that I couldn’t possibly take a pen of unknown value from a stranger who might later regret getting rid of it, but he insisted, so I accepted. And when the box arrived, my goodness, what a lovely little gift it was: an adorable little Sheaffer Tuckaway, brown striated with a gold-filled clipless cap, with a matching pencil. The body was in beautiful condition, but the innards were wrecked — so off it went to the Nashua Pen Spa for Richard Binder’s loving ministrations.
When it arrived at his workbench, Richard sent me an estimate and warned me that technically, the pen didn’t justify the expense of repairs — but that he was very excited to see it, because it was a first-generation Crest version from 1942, and were it his, he’d repair it just for the pleasure of using it. Twist my arm, I replied. Let’s bring it back from the dead.
Richard’s repair queue was up to 19 weeks last time I checked, but for some reason, he was nice enough to bump mine up in line. So this afternoon the mail brought my Tuckaway back home, restored to working condition. It’s absolutely lovely, a wee gem just a hair over 4″ long capped and about 5.5″ long posted (i.e. with the cap put on the back), and it’s a pleasure to use. Of course I inked it up right away. How could I not?
First I need to write a thank you note to the person who sent it to me, for no other reason than that he wanted me to have it. Then I think I need to find something delightful to pass along. This whole giving of gifts thing is more fun when it keeps going.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (0)Well played, Catherine Zeta-Jones
I don’t usually pay much attention to celebrity news, but the announcement that Catherine Zeta-Jones has checked herself into the hospital to treat her bipolar disorder made me sit up and take notice. Yes, yes, it’s probably posh, since that’s how movie stars roll, and she doesn’t have to worry about how much it costs, ditto. But she’s not telling the world that she’s going to a spa. She’s not even pretending that she’s going to rehab — which these days is not only barely stigmatized, it’s practically a noble gesture. No, she’s being right up front about it: she’s been voluntarily admitted to the psych ward, because she’s had a shitty year and she’s slipped into a crippling depression. To be specific, she says she has Bipolar Disorder, which used to be called Manic Depression — she’s got Bipolar II, which is more about the depression, as compared to Bipolar I, which is more about the manic, but they both suck. Mood disorders do that. They suck.
Here’s the thing: what she’s got is treatable. In fact, it sounds like she’s had it for a while and knows exactly what she needs to do to manage it. And what she’s got is more common than most people realize. Not as common as unipolar depression, the common cold of mental illness, but still, it’s out there. And if it takes a glamorous actress saying, “Yeah, I’ve got this, and it sucks, and I’m going to get it taken care of” to take some of the mystery and fear out of it and encourage other people to get diagnosed and treated, hand that woman another Oscar for playing the most important role of her life.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (1)Travel Tuesdays: the Aeronaut’s first outing
A couple of weeks ago I nipped off to Chicago for a long weekend of art and, as it turned out, excellent food and drink. It also happened to be my first chance to take my Tom Bihn Aeronaut on the road. I’ve been blithering about this bag since long before I bought it, so it seems only fair that now that I’ve actually traveled with it, I should review it.
I did not use a shoulder strap on the Aeronaut. I carried it by the handle when I was getting on and off the plane, and with the backpack straps the rest of the time. I gather that Tom Bihn used to offer an “Aeronaut Breve” model with the backpack straps positioned especially for shorter people (“breve” is French for “short”). I wish I could have bought that version, since at 5’2″, I found the backpack straps on my Aeronaut weren’t quite in the right place for the waist strap to support the bag’s weight properly. My lower back was really bothering me on the last day of my trip, but to be fair, I’m not sure I can blame that on the bag, since I also spent the previous 3 days standing and walking a lot more than usual.
In my 7 years or so of traveling with the big black backpack, I had developed a packing system to suit it: baggie of liquid toiletries in one specific pocket where it was easy to remove for airport security, cosmetic kit in a spot where I could get at it in a restroom for quick touch-ups in transit, shoes here, phone charger there, and so forth. New luggage means developing a new system for stowing what I need in a way that makes sense. With three zippered external pockets and one zippered open pocket, plus two end compartments, I had plenty of space to stash things that didn’t need to go in the main compartment. I just needed to figure out what went where. I’m going to need another trip or two to refine the new system, but the smallest external zipper pocket — which is on the top of the bag when it’s oriented as a backpack — seems to be the most sensible spot for that baggie of liquids. I allocated the other two zipper pockets thus: on one side, phone charger, spare camera battery, and camera battery charger, and on the other side, things I might want on my flight, like a paperback, a lightweight shawl, and an emergency baggie of trail mix (snacks on a plane!).
The open external pocket faces up in suitcase/duffel mode, but in backpack mode, it not only opens to the side, but is on the bottom of the bag. That means it can’t be used to carry anything slippery, like a magazine or water bottle — the contents just get jounced out as you walk. That’s a shame, because I’m likely to be toting water or a magazine on most trips — and there’s not much else I might risk storing there. However, it worked perfectly on this trip to hold a small umbrella, which is never a bad thing to have handy. (See also “Reasons why I have bought a cheap umbrella on each of my last 3 trips to New York.”)
I put a pair of shoes in one end compartment, and socks and underwear in the other. It just made sense.
The only thing about the Aeronaut that absolutely does not work for me is the mesh pocket on the inside of the flap to the main compartment. The zipper of the pocket is near the fold of the flap, not the edge. As a result, when you open the flap to access the main compartment, everything in the mesh pocket settles near the fold, at the top of the pocket rather than at its bottom. I started out using it to store earplugs, eyemask, bandaids, tampons, a small container of ibuprofen, and other small items that I like to have with me when I travel just in case I need them. I quickly discovered that I needed to take extra care to fold the flap completely back and shake all its contents back away from the opening. Otherwise, unzipping that mesh pocket immediately dumped everything inside, willy-nilly, into the main compartment. Not practical! Not convenient! On my next trip, I’m going to experiment with storing all those small things in a wee mesh packing cube and using the pocket inside the flap for something larger and bulkier. Meanwhile, Tom Bihn, if you’re listening, on future versions of the Aeronaut, you might want to consider moving the opening of that flap pocket to the edge of the flap, near the zipper, rather than toward the fold.
Other than these admittedly minor quibbles, the Aeronaut performed admirably. It’s small enough to be easy to carry, and it fits overhead and underseat with room to spare, and yet it’s still capacious. Even though I pack light, I still put in a pair of jeans, 4 pairs of socks, 4 sets of underthings, 3 t-shirts, a cardigan, a pullover sweater, and a pair of sneakers (not including the trousers, t-shirt, cardigan, and tall boots I traveled in). When I boarded the plane, I also squashed my trenchcoat with wool liner into the bag’s main compartment. Nonetheless, I still had room for another couple of outfits if I’d wanted to overpack. I loved the handles on both ends of the bag, which made pulling it in and out of the overhead bin a piece of cake. The convertible backpack straps tuck away or deploy in seconds, and both they and the waist strap are easy to adjust.
Overall, I’d say that I’m looking forward to further refining my packing habits to suit my new bag, because my new bag clearly suits me. I just need a few more trips so we can get used to each other.
The funny pages
I read a handful of online comics regularly (and by “regularly” I mean “I read them the day they go up, thank you RSS feed”). My tastes are odd and eclectic, but I share with you anyway:
Hark, A Vagrant – Pop culture! History, sometimes Canadian! Fat ponies!
Meen Comics – Proof that truth is stranger than fiction, from a friend drawing under a pseudonym, which is how I know it’s true.
Oglaf - Gorgeously drawn and deliciously filthy. D&D meets NSFW. Start at the beginning, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.
xkcd- Does anyone not know about XKCD by now? So smart that sometimes I don’t get the jokes. So spot-on that you won’t care that it’s stick figures.
What are your favorite online comics? I already know about Achewood and Cat & Girl; tell me more.
Filed under Uncategorized | Comments (3)Worth the wait
When I first moved to San Francisco in 1999, I received a special housewarming gift: a bottle of 1973 Inglenook Estate Bottled Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. The person who gave it to me had apparently worked at the winery during crush that year and had taken home several cases for his pains. He had no idea how the wine had held up after 26 years. And because I didn’t want to waste what could be an amazing experience, I didn’t open it. If I was alone and it was wonderful, I wouldn’t be able to finish it in a timely fashion, because I’m a lightweight. (And if I had friends over and it was terrible, we wouldn’t be able to drink it at all.) So I tucked it into the cabinet where I keep my wine rack, and I looked at it curiously from time to time, but I never seemed to find the right occasion to uncork it.
Earlier this week, though, my wine-loving friend Jon was in town. When I told him I still had the bottle, now 38 years old, he got the kind of hopeful look in his eye that I ordinarily associate with a black lab facing someone with a pocket full of bacon. With someone on hand to help me appreciate it properly, it was time to open that wine.
This proved to be easier said than done.
After removing the foil, we were relieved to see that the cork was still intact — but while the cork had held together firmly in the neck of the bottle, it was, shall we say, no longer structurally sound. Using the corkscrew merely drew up a core sample and scattered bits of crumbly cork across my countertop.
Stymied, we had to consider alternate ways to get to the wine. Shove the cork into the bottle? It would disintegrate. Try a cork puller? Ditto. We decided our only option was to go through the cork.
So we reapplied the corkscrew in order to bore a hole all the way to the bottom of the cork. Then, using 
a lacquered chopstick with a round point, we slowly wiggled the hole larger, trying to minimize the amount of cork dropping into the liquid. Eventually we had an opening of just under half an inch.
At this point, I put my nose to the bottle. One whiff and my eyes widened: it was still wine, not vinegar. I couldn’t wait to try it — but we still had to get the wine out of the bottle, and bits of cork out of the wine.
Lacking a carafe or a proper strainer to remove the crumbled cork that inevitably got into the bottle as we operated, we made do with my coffee pot and fine-meshed gold filter. It looked ridiculous.
It worked perfectly.
It was delicious. Almost like port. We polished off most of the bottle in an hour.
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