A Night-Owl's Views On Sunshine

I woke up today when my b.c. alarm went off at noon, but couldn't quite scrape myself off the mattress for another half an hour -- in which to put on a bikini and go lay on a towel in the yard, which you know is so very different. That's tanning. And since Alaska gets about 12 sunny days during our 2 months of summer, and those seem to mostly happen during business hours, you gotta carpe that diem. So I dragged my night-owl ass out into the sun while it was still around, to do something that I -- as a born and raised island girl -- never thought I'd ever do. SUNBATHE.

Thinking: "What have I become???"

I've been laying out on our lawn so often, the grass is starting to pale in my basking area because I'm intercepting so much of its sunlight. As I lounged out there today, I stared lazily up at the trees and watched the sunlight shine off the leaves in the height of the day's heat. I reflected on the way each leaf glinted, the sun bouncing so brilliantly off each tiny facet in the canopy. It's a harder kind of light, the full force of the sun's light at high noon -- my favorite is the later light when the afternoon ripens, but before it declines into dusk. The light has a syrupy golden quality, and saturates the leaves; a positive sponge of photosynthetic light.

I've already shared my little linguistic invention heliotransfolium; well, as the sun reclines closer to the horizon, every leaf becomes radiant with a heavier golden glow, the maximum of example of the term. But in the heat of the day, when the sun is high, what I saw would have to be called helioepifolium -- sun on leaves, as opposed to through.

Helioepi(c)folium - every tree a jewel with a thousand sparkling facets

Mornings are terribly unpleasant for me, and I find the cold light of the morning sun unwelcoming. I like to join the day after it's been well-broken in by earlier risers. (I'm not even people at work until it's almost noon. But I've got them pretty well fooled with the heels & earrings and whatnot.) The blazing hard light of high noon has its perks, including its tanning power -- but give me that ripe honeyed light of late afternoon every time. Maybe this night owl is becoming crepuscular?

Simple Pleasures Part 5: Through Sweet & Out The Other Side

Some things just go together, like cookies and milk. But it just doesn't work out the way you want it to, and you're forced to compromise with something weird. And then, sometimes...you develop a taste for that other, weirder, thing.

Like, you're at a party, and there's the usual party stuff there; high fructose corn syrup, artificial preservatives, orange dye number six. You've got your slice of cake, piled high with that terrible frosting. And after one bite of that unnatural sensory attack, you're desperate for a drink -- but all they have are sodas. Check the cooler again; not so much as a bottled water. There's nothing you can do; crack, fizz, gulp. Palate cleansed. Also, you now have diabetes.

It's so sweet on sweet, one cancels the other out somehow. You know you just had a drink so sweet any other era of American history would have considered a canned dessert, but in the face of that Sheet Cake Blitz its somehow oddly tasteless. It's an strange sensation, like you've gone so deep into the Zone of Sweet that you've passed through, into some distant and unknown territory beyond.

Take me to a better (bitter?) place

I got a taste for that sweet, sweet unsweetness. And now sometimes...just sometimes...when I am passed the party cake -- or the doughnut, or whatever -- I deliberately crack open a soda, and travel to that distant land beyond the realm of sweet. On purpose, yo. Because I'm a sensory voyager. And I luuuuv the diuh-beetuz.

Simple Pleasures Part 4: The Moon Keeps Pace With You

This is true of the sun too, of course; but don't you just love it when you're driving at night, and out of the corner of your eye you spot that pale satellite pacing you? Tracking alongside you through roadside trees or hedges, as round as a friendly face turned to look at just you? It accompanies you on your journey, bounding across the snowy night like it has done for the silent wolf packs of a thousand midnight runs. You may be just going to the supermarket, but the wolf within can run through silhouetted trees with its faithful moon guardian; and there's no traffic laws against it.

AwwwwooooooOOOOOOOoooooooo!

Simple Pleasures Part 3: Heliotransfolium

And see that limning action at the bottom? That's hot.

For those of us to whom ancient Greek roots are "like Greek to me, man", rest easy; it's as simple as sunlight through leaves. We've all seen it, right? That wonderfully alive sort of green glowing with the richness of syrupy golden afternoon sunlight that makes actual, factual gold seem a cold dead facsimile indeed. It is a vision of vibrancy and wealth far past any inert metal, because this is the color of something alive, and in the act of living as hard as it can. The fact that I could find no word for that beautiful sight nagged at me like a toothache. There's no helping it; one had to be made. Introducing:

With helio meaning 'sun' and trans meaning 'through', and foli of course meaning 'leaves', barring any grammatical or syntactic crosscultural differences, this should be seen as a legit word; in that it successfully communicates its message, at least. However, I totally made this up in  a few minutes by Googling ancient Greek roots, so if you see any hitches in my giddyup, please let me know. And, until proven otherwise, enjoy your new word! Just in time for Fall, too; am I good, or am I good? You're welcome.

Simple Pleasures, Part 2: The (Silver?) Lining

It's time for the second installment of the Simple Pleasures series, where the good stuff in life is celebrated as it should be. And today, it's all about pants! No, not Pants, PANTS. Ahhh, fuggedhaboudit.

Khaki's secret inner purple

 For all the male blogviewers, let's just preface this with Yes, women's pants frequently have liners of a different print and fabric than the actual pants, inside the pants. Now that we've moved on to the meat of the topic, they're adorable! I had this pair of dark green corduroys that had the most unexpected pink-and-white pinstripe lining inside the pockets...ahem. But I digress. There's no use getting bogged down in the particulars.

This one even MATCHES!

Because this post is not just another whimsical Kana-anecdote, it is a message to the masses! For what I would like to submit to the Blogoshpere today is that inner linings are darling and sweet, frequently unexpectedly so, and that they are an opportunity for a moment of softness in your psyche's day. Allow yourself to be softened, however momentarily, by their delicate print patterns and precious colors. They won't let you down!

Potty Mouth

If you are of a refined or delicate disposition, be warned - I really am going to talk about a toilet. And mystery mold.

One particular toilet, in fact; the non-handicapped stall in the Ladies' on my floor. It is my bathroom-away-from-home, because I think there's probably a circle of Hades set aside for able-bodied people who choose the handicapped stall over a normal stall*, or something. We certainly vie for the "normal" stall like we will otherwise be damned. Anywho.

I think it's happy-looking

 It is a good toilet, as such things go, clean and well-functioning. But it has a unique feature, a birthmark of sorts; in the corner of the ceiling where it meets the stall wall there is a custard-colored snowflake. It has not grown or changed in any way since I started here a year ago, but its cheerful butterscotch color cheers me every time. Gods only know what mystery mold makes that color, and what spores it might belch on a microscopic level, but Fie, I say; It is cute, and it makes me happy.

This could almost have been one of my "Simple Pleasures" entries, if only there wasn't such a gray cloud in my toilet's silver lining; the paper liners. People go both ways on them, needing them to feel safe or condemning a wasteful act that preys on our hypochondria and supplies only psychosomatic protection. I can live without 'em, but prefer to use them if they're there. But I've never. NEVER. EVER been good at them. It's been years, I really have no excuse. Those things split in my hands, turning into parade-confetti supplies before my puzzled eyes. No matter how gently, or casually, or slowly I try to tear the central part loose from the border, it just becomes the flapping ragged sail of a ghost ship. (And those are not even remotely toilet-seat-shaped. Famed for it.) And even once I have something that can at least be sat on, in the time between putting it there and being ready to make contact it has sunk to the abyssal depths of the bowl like the ghost ship it thinks it's a part of. Well, it does follow; the majority of it hangs into the bowl, and then gets wet. It's just following its own poorly-thought-out design. So I usually have to sacrifice one to sleep with the fishes, and put another on top that will be partially supported by its brother in the water. But unfortunately, yesterday saw this sad moment on the left; even the second one started giving up the ghost when I went to go stage the photo-op. Maybe it's camera-shy?

Por que, paper liners?

So I'm like the ultimate waster; not only do I use them, I tend to use two; and then I did it just to take a picture of it. There's probably a Circle for people like me too. What would be hilarious is if it's right next to the one for choosing to use the handicapped stall if you're not handicapped. It would be just like old times...or, in other words, now.
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* Having no other stall to turn to or needing room coz you're big, have a kid, or need to change totally absolves you. You just end up in Ambiguous Bathroom Choices Limbo. It's like that waiting room from Beetlejuice.

Simple Pleasures, Part 1: Green Sneakers

I have a pair of green sneakers, and they are one of my greatest 'simple pleasures'. They're just some random thing, a typical Payless special - no particular shape, no special brand, no real plan - just bein' shoes, as hard as they can. They were kelly green when I first got them, and they remained that way for quite awhile; they were the "wrong" green, they looked somehow immature and foolish sticking out of the bottom of my jeans. I'd wanted green sneakers, and there they were, but I'd wanted something fun, funky and eccentric, not a cartoon of Fail. So I avoided them...I avoided them like an acquaintance whose name you cannot remember -- with regret, uneasiness, guilt and a sense of resentment for being so unfairly burdened by such a little thing.

 One day, I was going on a hike, and I only had one pair of sneakers. So on to my feet they went. I remember some sort of grim sense of pleasure that I was going to finally thrash these shoes into something other than their First Day of Dumbass School state - at least with dirt on they'd be a different tone of fail. 

It was a loooooong drive to the trail. Alaska's main export could be Vast Tracts of Space, if that was physically possible. Because yes I know that's not how exports work. Geez. As it is, I work in AK's Dept of Natural Resources. In Land Sales. So.

I was bored. And I had a green sharpie. And then I looked down at all that kelly green canvas propped on the dashboard in front of me...

The rest is history. I drew my little heart out, and because the sharpie was a 'true' green, it darkened the overall color, and made them a one-of-a-kind Kana masterpiece. And I didn't even eff them up as per my usual; they're beautiful, if now hopelessly battered from regular use. Here are pics of today's Green Sneakers:

Left: frogs and snails love vines!

Right: Snail leaves Frog in favor of a mushroom

They are my favorite sneakers. EVER. They turned out so much better than I could have ever hoped after I'd first been confronted with the kelly green Remedial Class joke Payless had offered. The fact that they went from being so bad to something so awesome is part of what makes me so happy when I wear them. And so that concludes the first installation in my new intermittent series, Simple Pleasures.