Dear Ms. Wintour,
Imagine my glee when upon opening your September Issue, the largest issue of each year, for many years, the issue industry insiders, designers, advertisers, and the rest of America waits for with Manolo's on, to find y'all shot your main fashion story in China. As lovely as the Great Wall was, I'm sure, here's what; how about shooting your main fashion story every month in America. American cities. American landmarks. In case y'all up there in your own Tra la la land have not stuck your heads out of your offices lately, there are approximately 25 million Americans out of work. Give local photographers, lighting crews, models, and local designers a chance, a look-see, a job.
Respectfully submitted,
Katherine Barrett Baker
Manakin-Sabot, Virginia
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Book Review: "The Glass Castle", Unbelievable and Unforgettable
Last week, a friend recommended "The Glass Castle" as one of the best books she has ever read. Quickly purchasing the trade paperback, "The Glass Castle" came with me on vacation. I could not put it down. I still cannot stop talking about it and thinking about this amazing story of survival during the 1960's in America from the childhood eyes of the author. I have already purchased many more copies for Christmas presents.
The autobiography begins in present day New York City. Jeannette Walls, the author, is meeting her husband for dinner. She is sitting in a taxi, looking out the window and catches a glimpse of a woman digging through a Dumpster. This woman is her dear Mother. Yes, her Mother is a homeless woman living on the streets of New York and her Mother prefers it that way.
The authors' parents, Rose Mary and Rex Walls were married in 1956 in a traditional church ceremony. Her Mother was dressed in a lovely white wedding gown and her father dressed in a formal shawl collared white dinner jacket and black tuxedo pants reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart in the movie Casablanca. Rex Walls was an Air force flyer and Rose Mary Walls was a beautifully educated teacher and from a well off, well mannered, landed Texas family.
One wonders while reading this tale of constant chaos, what went so wrong that both parents ended up happily homeless, living in New York City. The simple answer is that they were both non-conformists.
Rose Mary Walls' God given talent was that she was a true artist in every sense of the word. She was a dreamer, an eternal optimist, a lady with fine manners and knowledge of fine art and antiques, and considered her "Tra la la life" a wonderful adventure when she was not forced to work and when her husband was not drunk. No matter how dire the family's situation remained, over and over again, and no matter where the family lived, including in shacks and cars, Rose Mary carted her art supplies with her and chose to paint her pictures for her source of escapism, rather than, unfortunately, keeping an eye on her children.
Rose Mary did, however, give her children a life of literature. Whatever town the family was near, Rose Mary Walls consistently got herself to the Public Library and checked out book after book for all her children to read. Reading was their saviour. Reading gave these children hope, a sense of belongingness in this life, and a happy escapism.
Rex Walls' God given talent was that he could fix anything. He could fix cars and anything electric, including wiring a house. His life's dream was to design and build a glass castle heated by solar panels. The sun, after all, is forever and free. More importantly to Rex the dreamer, one does not have to pay any corporation or entity for the privilege of receiving electricity or anything else. Rex did not believe in dependence on anyone or anything, especially any government, church, hospital, corporation, or any charitable organization. He believed in self-sufficiency to the point that this belief became a primitive, viking-like, pioneering and post nuclear survival philosophy. This manic philosophy of life may sound genius on paper, but in practice, proved to be a bit bi-polar, or maybe a bit "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" resulting from his own stark, starving, cruel childhood in the poorest part of the Appalachian mountains, Welch,West Virginia. For better and for mostly much worse, this strict survival mode mantra was how the Walls family lived and Rex was head of the household.
Why do some people get going and work themselves into a frenzy to prosper against terrific odds while other people simply rely on others for help when life gets rough? Why do some horses want to be first in a horse race and other horses don't really care? Wanting to succeed has little to do with money, breeding or upbringing. All material things and certain qualities are nice and may help, but success comes down to personal drive. An inner hunger of sorts. It seems as if it is a personality. Utilizing one's God given talent helps as well. Everyone has at least one talent.
The largest lesson in this book is: no matter the hardships life will throw at you, you will always be able to use your good, resourceful mind to learn, strive and work your way out of any situation if you choose to do so. It is also helpful psychologically if you have the support of your family, any family, and/or friends. One thing Rose Mary and Rex did for their children was to give them a sense of togetherness, and a lasting sense of the importance of family and sticking together always.
In this age of avarice and envy in America, this book is a reminder of the resourcefulness and drive we have lost as an affluent, free society. It also reminds us of what good can be accomplished again with a lot of hard work and perseverance in gaining back our sense of togetherness and purpose in our personal lives, communities and country.
The autobiography begins in present day New York City. Jeannette Walls, the author, is meeting her husband for dinner. She is sitting in a taxi, looking out the window and catches a glimpse of a woman digging through a Dumpster. This woman is her dear Mother. Yes, her Mother is a homeless woman living on the streets of New York and her Mother prefers it that way.
The authors' parents, Rose Mary and Rex Walls were married in 1956 in a traditional church ceremony. Her Mother was dressed in a lovely white wedding gown and her father dressed in a formal shawl collared white dinner jacket and black tuxedo pants reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart in the movie Casablanca. Rex Walls was an Air force flyer and Rose Mary Walls was a beautifully educated teacher and from a well off, well mannered, landed Texas family.
One wonders while reading this tale of constant chaos, what went so wrong that both parents ended up happily homeless, living in New York City. The simple answer is that they were both non-conformists.
Rose Mary Walls' God given talent was that she was a true artist in every sense of the word. She was a dreamer, an eternal optimist, a lady with fine manners and knowledge of fine art and antiques, and considered her "Tra la la life" a wonderful adventure when she was not forced to work and when her husband was not drunk. No matter how dire the family's situation remained, over and over again, and no matter where the family lived, including in shacks and cars, Rose Mary carted her art supplies with her and chose to paint her pictures for her source of escapism, rather than, unfortunately, keeping an eye on her children.
Rose Mary did, however, give her children a life of literature. Whatever town the family was near, Rose Mary Walls consistently got herself to the Public Library and checked out book after book for all her children to read. Reading was their saviour. Reading gave these children hope, a sense of belongingness in this life, and a happy escapism.
Rex Walls' God given talent was that he could fix anything. He could fix cars and anything electric, including wiring a house. His life's dream was to design and build a glass castle heated by solar panels. The sun, after all, is forever and free. More importantly to Rex the dreamer, one does not have to pay any corporation or entity for the privilege of receiving electricity or anything else. Rex did not believe in dependence on anyone or anything, especially any government, church, hospital, corporation, or any charitable organization. He believed in self-sufficiency to the point that this belief became a primitive, viking-like, pioneering and post nuclear survival philosophy. This manic philosophy of life may sound genius on paper, but in practice, proved to be a bit bi-polar, or maybe a bit "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" resulting from his own stark, starving, cruel childhood in the poorest part of the Appalachian mountains, Welch,West Virginia. For better and for mostly much worse, this strict survival mode mantra was how the Walls family lived and Rex was head of the household.
Why do some people get going and work themselves into a frenzy to prosper against terrific odds while other people simply rely on others for help when life gets rough? Why do some horses want to be first in a horse race and other horses don't really care? Wanting to succeed has little to do with money, breeding or upbringing. All material things and certain qualities are nice and may help, but success comes down to personal drive. An inner hunger of sorts. It seems as if it is a personality. Utilizing one's God given talent helps as well. Everyone has at least one talent.
The largest lesson in this book is: no matter the hardships life will throw at you, you will always be able to use your good, resourceful mind to learn, strive and work your way out of any situation if you choose to do so. It is also helpful psychologically if you have the support of your family, any family, and/or friends. One thing Rose Mary and Rex did for their children was to give them a sense of togetherness, and a lasting sense of the importance of family and sticking together always.
In this age of avarice and envy in America, this book is a reminder of the resourcefulness and drive we have lost as an affluent, free society. It also reminds us of what good can be accomplished again with a lot of hard work and perseverance in gaining back our sense of togetherness and purpose in our personal lives, communities and country.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
LTTE - Harpers Bazaar, September Issue 2011
Dear Editor,
In reading Vanessa Diffenbaugh's September Issue article: "What has Michelle Bachmann done Right," I gasped at her shocking comment: "I believe government has a crucial role in developing a free and equal society."
Pardon me? With 70% of the world's population existing on a staple diet of rice and beans, and Billions of people living under Dictatorships, or complete chaotic lawlessness, America is the best example of a free and equal developed society.
All Americans are free to vote in any free election. We are free to study hard within our free educational system, and additionally, freely check out any of the millions of books written in any free Public Library. We are also free to apply for any job we wish to work for and may qualify to earn.
The modern Mother of these four children as a free citizen was free to seek out free birth control, and free to have, or not to have, any amount of children she could afford, or not afford, either financially or through familial or community support systems. She was also free to commit to the Father, (or any of the Fathers), of these children and free to raise these children in any environment she wished to strive to attain.
This modern Mother was apparently as well, free to seek out illegal drugs, free to spend her money on illegally purchasing these illegal drugs over and over again, free to use these illegal drugs, and free to allow herself to become addicted to these illegal drugs. She was free to, at any time during her addiction, seek out many and various free treatment programs, without prosecution, through her free local churches and/or free community centers or family. What this modern Mother did to her children was unfair.
I commend Mr. & Mrs. Diffenbaugh and Michelle Bachmann for raising foster children. They are freely taking up the responsibility for kids who's Mother (and Father) equally and freely failed at, over and over and over again.
These parents freely failed to freely commit to each other, freely failed to commit to their children they freely brought into this world, and freely failed to resourcefully and responsibly raise these four children. They also freely failed to obey the "Rule of Law" in this free country.
Like childhood, no free or occupied society is always equal or fair, but America is the most fair and most equal society on the planet.
My Father wisely always said: "One cannot legislate morality." As a smoker, he also wisely said: "Smoking is a personality." I assume drug use is, as well, a personality. Willfully having four children in our modern society without a partner to help raise these children responsibly, without any resourcefulness, without utilizing religious, community or reasonable familial support systems and without any care or regard for personal responsibility or our rule of law in this free country is a selfish, self-centered, self serving lifestyle.
Lifestyle is a personality. Lifestyle gets passed on generation after generation. Lifestyle can neither be legislated, nor governed. Lifestyle is neither fair nor equal, but in America, lifestyle is free and we are free to live our lives as responsibly or as irresponsibly as we wish.
Respectfully submitted,
Katherine Barrett Baker
The Sabot School of Etiquette
1451 Amber Lake Road
Manakin-Sabot, Virginia 23103
804-784-2033
In reading Vanessa Diffenbaugh's September Issue article: "What has Michelle Bachmann done Right," I gasped at her shocking comment: "I believe government has a crucial role in developing a free and equal society."
Pardon me? With 70% of the world's population existing on a staple diet of rice and beans, and Billions of people living under Dictatorships, or complete chaotic lawlessness, America is the best example of a free and equal developed society.
All Americans are free to vote in any free election. We are free to study hard within our free educational system, and additionally, freely check out any of the millions of books written in any free Public Library. We are also free to apply for any job we wish to work for and may qualify to earn.
The modern Mother of these four children as a free citizen was free to seek out free birth control, and free to have, or not to have, any amount of children she could afford, or not afford, either financially or through familial or community support systems. She was also free to commit to the Father, (or any of the Fathers), of these children and free to raise these children in any environment she wished to strive to attain.
This modern Mother was apparently as well, free to seek out illegal drugs, free to spend her money on illegally purchasing these illegal drugs over and over again, free to use these illegal drugs, and free to allow herself to become addicted to these illegal drugs. She was free to, at any time during her addiction, seek out many and various free treatment programs, without prosecution, through her free local churches and/or free community centers or family. What this modern Mother did to her children was unfair.
I commend Mr. & Mrs. Diffenbaugh and Michelle Bachmann for raising foster children. They are freely taking up the responsibility for kids who's Mother (and Father) equally and freely failed at, over and over and over again.
These parents freely failed to freely commit to each other, freely failed to commit to their children they freely brought into this world, and freely failed to resourcefully and responsibly raise these four children. They also freely failed to obey the "Rule of Law" in this free country.
Like childhood, no free or occupied society is always equal or fair, but America is the most fair and most equal society on the planet.
My Father wisely always said: "One cannot legislate morality." As a smoker, he also wisely said: "Smoking is a personality." I assume drug use is, as well, a personality. Willfully having four children in our modern society without a partner to help raise these children responsibly, without any resourcefulness, without utilizing religious, community or reasonable familial support systems and without any care or regard for personal responsibility or our rule of law in this free country is a selfish, self-centered, self serving lifestyle.
Lifestyle is a personality. Lifestyle gets passed on generation after generation. Lifestyle can neither be legislated, nor governed. Lifestyle is neither fair nor equal, but in America, lifestyle is free and we are free to live our lives as responsibly or as irresponsibly as we wish.
Respectfully submitted,
Katherine Barrett Baker
The Sabot School of Etiquette
1451 Amber Lake Road
Manakin-Sabot, Virginia 23103
804-784-2033
Monday, July 18, 2011
Meditation from Mother Theresa
I have sent this quote out with Christmas cards in years past and have posted this quote on this blog in the past. So, during these uncertain times, often negative times, and because America is just not going through a Renaissance right now, here is my favorite quote again:
People are often unreliable, illogical and self-centered;
forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives;
be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies;
succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend your years building, someone may destroy overnight;
build it anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, it may never be enough;
give the world the best you have anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It never was between you and them anyway.
--Mother Theresa
People are often unreliable, illogical and self-centered;
forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives;
be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies;
succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend your years building, someone may destroy overnight;
build it anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, it may never be enough;
give the world the best you have anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It never was between you and them anyway.
--Mother Theresa
Thursday, May 26, 2011
The 3 "B's" of Toasting and International Signals
Here we go again. Another American politician makes another International faux-pas while visiting a foreign country. President George Bush, then First Lady Michelle Obama touch the Queen. Tim Kaine makes the "thumbs up" gesture during the Queen's 2007 visit to Virginia, (in Europe Latin America and The Middle East, hand gestures are obscene)! Yesterday, President Obama makes many mistakes during his toast to the Queen. The poor Queen. She does not say anything, but she did shoot him a look when he toasted her during the national anthem.
1. The 3 "B's" of toasting are always: Begin, Be Brief and Be Seated.
2. A welcome toast (before eating) and a toast to the guest of honor (dessert course) is always given by the host. The host leads the
way, always toasts first, and sets the tone.
3. One always stands up to give a toast.
4. Never drink to yourself if the toast is in your honor.
5. The International signal for finishing a toast are these words: "Let us raise our glasses with a toast to... "So-in-So."
So, you see, little rules of etiquette DO apply to little people and Big people at Harvard, Yale and The Queen. She knows all the little rules of etiquette !
The casual, relaxed and affable President Obama just never took the quick etiquette class on the logistics of giving a toast. He said at the end of his speech, as he was also laying down his note cards: "Ladies and Gentleman, please stand with me and raise your glasses as I propose a toast...to Her Majesty The Queen."
These words are THE International signal for: "I am finishing up my toast," just like marrying the knife and fork together in the 10:20 position on one's plate is the International signal for: "I am finished with my meal, remove my plate." The conductor thought President Obama was finishing up his toast, so the orchestra started up the British national anthem. Then surprisingly, a few seconds later, President Obama started talking again and continued giving his toast. Everyone else in the room was standing at attention in silence for their National Anthem. Finally, President Obama raised his glass to The Queen and for the second time looked as though he was winding up his toast. The Queen, in the middle of this confusion, shot him a glance reminiscent of a look my Mother used to give me at the dinner table or at a party when my manners were lacking and she did not want to, or could not say anything.
The President should have paused, stood silently until the anthem was done, then raised his glass and finished his toast.
Then, after all that, President Obama did not drink from his glass as everyone else did (save the Queen). The whole scene was painful to watch.
Yet again, the stereo-typical "Ugly American" and our poor manners. Why? One does not have to have money to have manners. Why do we not teach a manners course in school to 3rd graders, then again, to rising Juniors? Why do Harvard and Yale apparently not have an etiquette afternoon seminar? Do they think little rules of etiquette only apply to little people?
Tricky etiquette, especially Internationally...really? Toasting is easy, really. All you need to read are a few basic rules as follows:
2. A welcome toast (before eating) and a toast to the guest of honor (dessert course) is always given by the host. The host leads the
way, always toasts first, and sets the tone.
3. One always stands up to give a toast.
4. Never drink to yourself if the toast is in your honor.
5. The International signal for finishing a toast are these words: "Let us raise our glasses with a toast to... "So-in-So."
So, you see, little rules of etiquette DO apply to little people and Big people at Harvard, Yale and The Queen. She knows all the little rules of etiquette !
Monday, May 23, 2011
Celebrating Cousins, The Preakness, And A Fille
We Americans celebrate most everything all the time. Visiting cousins, feasting on steamed crab and champagne at the kitchen table on a Thursday night. A black-eyed Susan pre-Preakness party to benefit Breast Cancer, and a rockin' country breakfast complete with mimosas to celebrate the birth of a fille.
Yesterday, with two cousins and their 19 year old daughter, Svetlana, who we call Sveta, I helped bring a baby horse, a fille, into this world. Neatest thing I've done since being 5th row at The Rolling Stones!
The early morning began with the muffled voice of my cousin Mary: "Sveta, get up. Ken called and said it's time." Mary's voice was nearing our room, and I could hear in her voice her nerves and an urgency, yet she has such a warm, calm tone in her words. "We need to go now. Right now." Kathy, it's time."
Anticipating this birth, I had taken my wedding rings off the night before and had laid my girl jeans and L.L. Bean "Rain Skimmer" shoes out, just in case. I rumbled down the stairs, ran out the door and down to the running shed. Apparently, I went the long way as I did not hear Mary and Sveta behind me. I jumped the fence as I did not have time to figure out where the gate was located. One slip on skimmer shoe got stuck in the mud and I had to circle around briefly to get it back on my size 11 foot.
There she was, a beautiful black mare laying on her side fully "in foal" on the soft hay. Mary ran to her head to keep her calm, and got on her cell phone to call two friends who also happened to be obstetrics nurses anxious to see the birth.
Looking down, I saw that the sac was sticking out. This birth had begun.
Above the bubble at the base of the opaque sac, were what looked like her hooves. At this point I could hear Ken saying: "O.K., Sveta and Kathy, I need you guys to take hold of the legs and pull. Pull down." Petite and pretty, silent Sveta was standing in the middle between Ken and myself. I gently found room and placed my hands around baby's legs and began to pull. Ken quickly and kindly said: " Not there with your left hand, Kathy, that's the nose." I quietly gasped and immediately placed my hand at the top of the cannon bone where there was room. I could now see the faint outline of the foal, her hooves and nose positioned to pounce out into the world, then heard a pop. The sac was broken. Ken asked: "Was that a pop?" "Yes, I answered, still pulling. I hoped baby had oxygen, but I did not know for sure. One thing I did know for sure was that this foal needed to come out, as any baby cannot be in the birth canal for too long and survive.
The three of us were now pulling with every pound of energy we possessed. Ken kept instructing us in his firm but focused voice to: "Pull Down" (due to the curved shape of baby and how it exits the birth canal). I could hear the strain of Ken's voice and sighs. Suddenly, the mare lifted her head up and made motions with her body and feet. She was fixing to stand up. Mary gasped: "She's standing up!" And so she was.
We scurried to stand up and re-positioned ourselves then started pulling down, again. More straining and stressing with all our collective strength. It seemed to happen in slow motion but went on forever. All sounds seemed muted to my ears as I was so concentrated on the task at hand. Pulling down using every muscle and all of our body weight, gasping for breath, grunting with frustration. The vibe of urgency was rising in the air. I could hear it in Ken's rapidly repeated instruction: "Keep pulling down."
Thinking something had to change, perhaps another direction, I raised my right hand and slowly, very gently pressed my palm flat against the mare's labia majora and pushed it up. My intention was to try to widen and loosen the muscle so baby had more room to slip through. Maybe baby moved a bit, I could not tell, so I tried it again. Maybe the mare felt the pressure and pushed back with her vulva muscle. Maybe the mare had a contraction. Maybe all the pulling finally worked. All I know is, in that mere moment, the foal came out with a plunk onto the soft hay. Miraculously, the running shed reminded me of a manger.
One moment to relax our arms, relief and a sigh, then suddenly, the Mare started stomping her right hind leg. I grabbed it under the carpus to keep her from stomping on the baby. Ken put his arms around the baby and scooted her out of the way. Mary calmed the mare.
We all stood silent, agape and in awe of the newness of this new life and series of firsts for this fille. We witnessed the opening of her dark black eyes seeing also her long eyelashes for the first time. How her sleek wet ears popped up and she lifted her head looking at all of us. Mary crept slowly over to examine the baby. She's a girl! Mary showed me her dermal papillae or "fingers" at the base of her hooves that all baby horses are born with, but that go away soon after birth once they stand up and start running around. We were, all of us, smitten with this little fille. She was beautiful and perfect, like a rare, black diamond. What a jewel! On Preakness race day, none-the-less!
Life is filled with celebrations and blessings. We should appreciate good days, new experiences, our energy, and having our health. Of course, all horses cannot be Preakness winners, but this new fille has instantly, unconditionally, and forever championed our hearts.
Yesterday, with two cousins and their 19 year old daughter, Svetlana, who we call Sveta, I helped bring a baby horse, a fille, into this world. Neatest thing I've done since being 5th row at The Rolling Stones!
The early morning began with the muffled voice of my cousin Mary: "Sveta, get up. Ken called and said it's time." Mary's voice was nearing our room, and I could hear in her voice her nerves and an urgency, yet she has such a warm, calm tone in her words. "We need to go now. Right now." Kathy, it's time."
Anticipating this birth, I had taken my wedding rings off the night before and had laid my girl jeans and L.L. Bean "Rain Skimmer" shoes out, just in case. I rumbled down the stairs, ran out the door and down to the running shed. Apparently, I went the long way as I did not hear Mary and Sveta behind me. I jumped the fence as I did not have time to figure out where the gate was located. One slip on skimmer shoe got stuck in the mud and I had to circle around briefly to get it back on my size 11 foot.
There she was, a beautiful black mare laying on her side fully "in foal" on the soft hay. Mary ran to her head to keep her calm, and got on her cell phone to call two friends who also happened to be obstetrics nurses anxious to see the birth.
Looking down, I saw that the sac was sticking out. This birth had begun.
Above the bubble at the base of the opaque sac, were what looked like her hooves. At this point I could hear Ken saying: "O.K., Sveta and Kathy, I need you guys to take hold of the legs and pull. Pull down." Petite and pretty, silent Sveta was standing in the middle between Ken and myself. I gently found room and placed my hands around baby's legs and began to pull. Ken quickly and kindly said: " Not there with your left hand, Kathy, that's the nose." I quietly gasped and immediately placed my hand at the top of the cannon bone where there was room. I could now see the faint outline of the foal, her hooves and nose positioned to pounce out into the world, then heard a pop. The sac was broken. Ken asked: "Was that a pop?" "Yes, I answered, still pulling. I hoped baby had oxygen, but I did not know for sure. One thing I did know for sure was that this foal needed to come out, as any baby cannot be in the birth canal for too long and survive.
The three of us were now pulling with every pound of energy we possessed. Ken kept instructing us in his firm but focused voice to: "Pull Down" (due to the curved shape of baby and how it exits the birth canal). I could hear the strain of Ken's voice and sighs. Suddenly, the mare lifted her head up and made motions with her body and feet. She was fixing to stand up. Mary gasped: "She's standing up!" And so she was.
We scurried to stand up and re-positioned ourselves then started pulling down, again. More straining and stressing with all our collective strength. It seemed to happen in slow motion but went on forever. All sounds seemed muted to my ears as I was so concentrated on the task at hand. Pulling down using every muscle and all of our body weight, gasping for breath, grunting with frustration. The vibe of urgency was rising in the air. I could hear it in Ken's rapidly repeated instruction: "Keep pulling down."
Thinking something had to change, perhaps another direction, I raised my right hand and slowly, very gently pressed my palm flat against the mare's labia majora and pushed it up. My intention was to try to widen and loosen the muscle so baby had more room to slip through. Maybe baby moved a bit, I could not tell, so I tried it again. Maybe the mare felt the pressure and pushed back with her vulva muscle. Maybe the mare had a contraction. Maybe all the pulling finally worked. All I know is, in that mere moment, the foal came out with a plunk onto the soft hay. Miraculously, the running shed reminded me of a manger.
One moment to relax our arms, relief and a sigh, then suddenly, the Mare started stomping her right hind leg. I grabbed it under the carpus to keep her from stomping on the baby. Ken put his arms around the baby and scooted her out of the way. Mary calmed the mare.
We all stood silent, agape and in awe of the newness of this new life and series of firsts for this fille. We witnessed the opening of her dark black eyes seeing also her long eyelashes for the first time. How her sleek wet ears popped up and she lifted her head looking at all of us. Mary crept slowly over to examine the baby. She's a girl! Mary showed me her dermal papillae or "fingers" at the base of her hooves that all baby horses are born with, but that go away soon after birth once they stand up and start running around. We were, all of us, smitten with this little fille. She was beautiful and perfect, like a rare, black diamond. What a jewel! On Preakness race day, none-the-less!
Life is filled with celebrations and blessings. We should appreciate good days, new experiences, our energy, and having our health. Of course, all horses cannot be Preakness winners, but this new fille has instantly, unconditionally, and forever championed our hearts.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Movie Extra Work Requires Sprezzatura
As a retired Retail Manager having worked 14 hour days (on average), 6-7 days a week since I was 25, I thought being a movie "extra" would be work, but easier than Retail work, and fun. Wow, was I ever almost not ready for a exhilarating workout!
"Extra" work is much more physically demanding than I physically imagined. Even "extras" must remain poised, bright, smiling and "on" while appearing relaxed and enjoying themselves. Talk about Sprezzatura*!
Commuting downtown, parking, shuttling to the location, followed by 2 hours of costume and makeup, hair, then more waiting for the "techies" to make final tweaks for the scene to be set up, only then to stand in 3" heels for more than 10 hours with 1 (one) 1/2 hour break after 6 hours, (according to Union rules), is exhilarating and exhausting. An unforgettable happy day!
The scaffolding for the "techies", the cords, the tape, and the amazing cameras are many, huge and complex. A bit awesome to behold. The blocking of the shots that made it to the final cut of the Harvest Ball scenes are so very "tight" (close up) showing the movie stars off nicely, but not the real local stars of the movie.
It was a shame the Director did not pull the camera just a bit back to capture more of the beautiful clothing, and the most unusual, exotic interior of the Victorian, High Gothic, Old City Hall building and its famous bottled glass tiled floor.
It was also a shame the Director did not light up the 15 second exterior shot of the Harvest Ball to better show off the Historic Bolling-Haxall House and its gorgeous Brownstone exterior and the original ironwork fence and foliage.
As a 50 year old extra, running up the large old cement exterior stairs, then back down for an immediate "reset", at least 40 times in 3" heels and party dress for 2 1/2 hours was tiring. I was out of breath toward the end of the shoot. Thank goodness for years of being a runner. One never knows in "Hollywood" what natural gifts, talents, bar tricks and hobbies which may come in handy during any particular shoot.
Richmond, the local star of the movie, is indeed fortunate to have had, in large part thanks to Elizabeth Scott Bocock, a star preservationist and philanthropist, many historic buildings and properties preserved for all to enjoy, in the here and now and on the big screen.
Extras do have an unspoken, unwritten etiquette to observe, and with a little luck, all their hard work will not all end up on the cutting room floor. Richmond is ready for its close up, Mr. DeMille!!
Enjoy the movie Unanswered Prayers on the Lifetime Network!
*Sprezzatura is an Italian word from the Book of the Courtier (year 1528) meaning one who is " to practise in everything a certain nonchalance that shall conceal design and show that what is done and said is done without effort and almost without thought."
"Extra" work is much more physically demanding than I physically imagined. Even "extras" must remain poised, bright, smiling and "on" while appearing relaxed and enjoying themselves. Talk about Sprezzatura*!
Commuting downtown, parking, shuttling to the location, followed by 2 hours of costume and makeup, hair, then more waiting for the "techies" to make final tweaks for the scene to be set up, only then to stand in 3" heels for more than 10 hours with 1 (one) 1/2 hour break after 6 hours, (according to Union rules), is exhilarating and exhausting. An unforgettable happy day!
The scaffolding for the "techies", the cords, the tape, and the amazing cameras are many, huge and complex. A bit awesome to behold. The blocking of the shots that made it to the final cut of the Harvest Ball scenes are so very "tight" (close up) showing the movie stars off nicely, but not the real local stars of the movie.
It was a shame the Director did not pull the camera just a bit back to capture more of the beautiful clothing, and the most unusual, exotic interior of the Victorian, High Gothic, Old City Hall building and its famous bottled glass tiled floor.
It was also a shame the Director did not light up the 15 second exterior shot of the Harvest Ball to better show off the Historic Bolling-Haxall House and its gorgeous Brownstone exterior and the original ironwork fence and foliage.
As a 50 year old extra, running up the large old cement exterior stairs, then back down for an immediate "reset", at least 40 times in 3" heels and party dress for 2 1/2 hours was tiring. I was out of breath toward the end of the shoot. Thank goodness for years of being a runner. One never knows in "Hollywood" what natural gifts, talents, bar tricks and hobbies which may come in handy during any particular shoot.
Richmond, the local star of the movie, is indeed fortunate to have had, in large part thanks to Elizabeth Scott Bocock, a star preservationist and philanthropist, many historic buildings and properties preserved for all to enjoy, in the here and now and on the big screen.
Extras do have an unspoken, unwritten etiquette to observe, and with a little luck, all their hard work will not all end up on the cutting room floor. Richmond is ready for its close up, Mr. DeMille!!
Enjoy the movie Unanswered Prayers on the Lifetime Network!
*Sprezzatura is an Italian word from the Book of the Courtier (year 1528) meaning one who is " to practise in everything a certain nonchalance that shall conceal design and show that what is done and said is done without effort and almost without thought."
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