Sensory Overload

spider sensibility

I noticed a spider

silently
propelling itself from its web on the ceiling
down down down
to the pile of dirty dishes
I was about to wash.
I don't mind spiders,
even when they are inches from my face
~ they're nature's architects, you know.
So, I stood still
and let it pass,
down down down

to the floor
scurrying,
on its way to another dark corner ~
'to weave what? and where?' I wondered.

I looked down
and quietly started
washing the dishes,
random thoughts trapped
in the waxy web still clinging to the ceiling.

 

Thank you Shoonyata, for helping me remember my evening in these words.  It's not much, but it'll do.

And thank you RJEvans, for your enchanting and enlightening words and photographs, describing the architecture of arachnids and the wonder of the webs they weave.

And thank you especially to the very talented Automania/Mike and booleansplit/Robert for their beautiful photographs.

Tonight was a strange series of dominoes falling.

And so I leave you with some wonderful quotes from a wonderful story ~ Charlotte's Web ~ because everyone should have a Charlotte in their lives.

Wilbur: I think you're beautiful.
Charlotte: Well, I am pretty. Nearly all spiders are good looking. I'm not as flashy as some, but I'll do.

Wilbur: Are you writers?
Charlotte's daughters: No, but we will be when we grow up.
Wilbur: Then write this in your webs, when you learn: This hallowed doorway was once the home of Charlotte. She was brilliant, beautiful, and loyal to the end. Her memory will be treasured forever.
Charlotte's daughters: Ooh, that would take us a lifetime.
Wilbur: A lifetime. That's what we have.

Charlotte: Trust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They'll believe anything they see in print.

now that's old school

I like old stuff. I fell in love with my apartment building because it was built in 1928, and it shows ~ it wears its age proudly. My mom freaked out when she saw the place (it needed a lot of work and I got upset and told her she had "no vision").  I put the TV in a cabinet in the nook where the Murphy Bed used to be. I didn't let my landlords "remodel" my kitchen to add Italian tile and glossy black counters; I prefer the old built-in cabinets with glass doors. My dining set and the furniture in my bedroom, I  found in old shoppes and antique/vintage stores in the Mission. I refuse to buy a new car or even a gently-used car, so I recently had my car ('93) painted (for a bargain), because I know it will last me another 5 years or so ~ my sister bought it in 1992. Those Nissan Maximas will not let you down.  It now looks like a brand new car.  I should get it all souped-up, like Rahul.

So, when I signed up to volunteer a weekend or two for the Obama campaign in Reno, Nevada, I decided to find an old hotel or motel ~ to avoid "Your All-New Atlantis Rediscovered Casino Resort and Spa" and the "Silver Legacy Resort and Casino, featuring Ted Nugent" and the (very nice looking) "Siena Hotel Spa Casino".

Somehow, through a series of random clicks on the internet, I stumbled upon a brief mention of the Hotel El Cortez. The one and only review I found noted, "The elevator alone is an adventure by itself".  I had to know more. But pages and pages of Google search results yielded nothing, except a brief description at the National Park Service, noting the hotel's historic status:

Built in 1931, El Cortez Hotel is one of only three remaining major Art Deco buildings in Reno, and is an excellent example of this style. The foliated motif found on the terra cotta design on the building's base and parapet are remarkable Art Deco details. At the time it was built, it was Reno's tallest building. The hotel experienced such extensive use early on that an addition was built just a few years after its construction. The hotel included the Orchid Room, a swanky bar and a popular restaurant called the Tracedero Room. These rooms were elegantly appointed with stylish Art Deco ornamentation. The El Cortez was a high-class hotel, garnering an astounding $6 per night, compared to the prevailing room rate of $2.50 per night. The El Cortez was built in anticipation of increased divorce traffic after Reno's divorce law was liberalized in 1931.

I had to stay there.  I have never been to Reno before, so my first encounter with the "Biggest Little City in the World" and the birthplace of the gaming corporation Harrah's Entertainment just has to feature some semi-vintagey-fun experience.  So, I immediately called the hotel to ask about their URL address, to reserve a room.  After about 15 rings (I'm persistent), "Ervin" answered the phone and schooled me on the ways of the Hotel El Cortez.

Me: [All eager and chirpy.]  Hi there ~ what's your web site address?
Ervin: [All cool and calm, but super-nice.]  Oh, we don't have a website.
Me: Oh.  OK, if I want to reserve a room, can I just do that now, with you?
Ervin: Oh, we don't take reservations.  It's first-come, first-serve.
Me: Ok.  So, what are your rates?
Ervin: Well, Sunday night through Thursday, it's $27 per night, plus tax, and a $5 key deposit.  But you get the key deposit back when you check out.
Me: What about a Friday night and Saturday night?
Ervin: Oh.  Those rates are different.  It'll be $31 a night, plus tax ~ so, about $35.
Me: Um, THAT IS GREAT! (Well, I tried not to sound too excited.)  OK.  Do you have rooms with two double beds?
Ervin: Oh.  We don't have rooms with two beds.  But the beds in the rooms are double-size.
Me:  Super.  OK, if I show up on a Friday night, what're the odds of my getting a room?
Ervin: Pretty good.
Me: OK, so maybe I should show up Friday afternoon instead, to play it safe, huh?
Ervin: What you can do, is call us about a week before you get here.
Me: To what?
Ervin: To see how things look.
Me: [Wondering, if they don't take reservations, how will they know what to expect?]  Super.  See you then!

Ervin sounded cool.  And old.  I can't wait to see him.

So, I will leave work around noon, get there around 4, get the room, and then "see the sights" before I go to the campaign training.

I can't wait.

This is the only really good photo I could find, on Flickr, thanks to the talented Patrick Boury:

 

Hurricane Ike ~ and a drop of Houston Humor

President Eisenhower was born in Texas, and now his namesake Hurricane is heading straight for my Lone Star State, expected to hit my hometown of Houston, around 2 am Saturday.

My brother, his wife, and toddler, are in the evacuation zone so they are packing up, to drive further inland and to higher ground: my parents' house.  My brother told me, "We'll bring a few gas generators and movies, and make a nice weekend out of it!"  He is clearly the "glass is half-full" representative in the family. 

We often use humor in our family to get through stressful situations.  Hurricanes are no joke ~ even if your home can withstand the 80-120 mph winds, as you huddle inside in total darkness, plywood boards providing a thin layer of safety against shattering glass ~ they whip up tornadoes, deadly storm surges at the coastline, and flash flooding.  Every time my parent's house has flooded, they watch from upstairs, candles and flashlights in hand, waiting for the storm to pass.  A few days later, the sun is out, the lights are back on, you step outside and avoid the snakes that have washed up into your yard, and you begin the clean-up ~ my parents always joke that it's as good a time as any to remodel.

But, watching the news, I begin to worry because this one is pretty massive ~ and they predict it will only strengthen before landfall.  So, I call my mom to check in.

I ask her how the emergency prep is going.  She sounds so calm, as if she is fitting in the hurricane between breakfast and dinner.  My dad is out getting the generator and the windows have been boarded up.  She will wait for my brother and his family.  I ask her if she has plenty of food and if she knows what she will cook before the lights go out.  "Oh yes ~ but they're vegetarians ~ can you believe it?!"  In Spanish it was much, much funnier.  Then she mumbled, "Yo no tengo tantos vegetales."  She's right, aside from green bell peppers for chiles rellenos,  there are rarely many vegetables in the house (except for all the canned ones in the pantry).  Did you know that before I moved to California, I had never seen fresh eggplant, or an artichoke, or fresh green beans?! ~ But that is another story.... 

So, I asked mami what vegetarian dish she planned to prepare.  "Chicken Salad." . . . . . 

Yes, in Texas, "vegetarian" simply means you don't eat blood-read meat ~ this is nearly a sin in Texas!  She added, though, that she will make her delicious ensalada de papa and arroz.  "But what else will they eat?!" I ask.  Then I add, "how about scrambled eggs?"  ~ "Ai, si!  Con weeneetos!"  ~ Yes, she means eggs with little weenies, I mean sausages.  Love.  Her.

I ask her if she can make her famous entomatadas or simply cheese enchiladas, but she says she doesn't have the ingredients.  So, I tell her to hurry up and get out to Food Town! 

"But the stores are empty!" she explains.  "I can't even find bread!  I'm going to have to buy wheat bread!"  Love.  Her.  And it was funnier in Spanish.

So, I will call them throughout the weekend to see how they are holding up ~ with the family lockdown and the hurricane!

Now I will go home to light a candle for Texas, my family, and friends, and to reminisce about my Wonder Bread childhood. ~ :)

 

P.S. ~ I just found out that my brother's family started eating chicken last month, so everything will be A-OK ! ~ :-)