Music and Cats

Today, a little ‘mouse asked a favor, and I am (nothing if not) obliging. He wanted - of all things - photos of lit jack-o-lanterns, taken with my new camera… the camera that I haven’t really learned to use yet. There is method to his madness, really, but I’m not going to go into it here. Perhaps he’ll say something about his reasons.

As we had no jack-o-lanterns chez McKitten, I stalked the ones across the street, standing on the sidewalk 20 or so feet from the front porch. When it’s set to full autofocus, my camera determines whether or not to engage its flash. I took these photos well after dark, so the camera opted for the flash. (See photo on left.) After a couple of shots with flash, I turned the knob on top of the camera until I got some shots without the flash going off. (Hey, it was dark out! I don’t know which setting it was on!) Of course, no flash meant a v e r y s l o w e x p o s u r e. On the order of two seconds. (See photo on right.) When I look at the second photo, I have two thoughts: “pumpkin possessed by a demon” and “damn, I need a tripod.”

Meet Mr. Penguin. Mr. Penguin lives, along with the twin sponge penguins and the absurdly colored San Diego Zoo penguin, in our bathroom. His home has most recently been on the windowsill, which is one of the few spots in the bathroom wide enough for this rather chubby, awkward bird.

Several mornings ago, I stumbled into the bathroom for my shower to find Mr. Penguin sprawled on the floor. I picked him up, and placed him back on his sill. Later that night, I was in the bathroom when one of the cats leapt onto the windowsill and, as I watched, pushed Mr. Penguin off the sill! I must confess that I was not sufficiently stern with the offender. In fact, I laughed, and replaced Mr. Penguin. The following night, I spotted the same cat navigating the route from edge of the bathtub to the back of the toilet, and onto the windowsill. I grabbed my camera. And here, almost caught in the act, is the perpetrator of penguin-pushing: (more…)

One month ago, Paul and I were enjoying a weekend in Portland, Oregon. I’ve worked every weekend since, though I have high hopes for no work this weekend, as I have a big deadline on Friday. In the meantime, a few photos from a month ago.

Our weekend in Portland was the perfect mini-vacation for an architect. On Saturday, we took a streetcar (public transit! amazing!) from our hotel, and spent the day wandering around the Pearl District, an area north of downtown once occupied by warehouses and light industry. In the past few years, the warehouses have been converted to lofts, and new condo and commercial buildings have sprung up among them. The neighborhood is a pedestrian’s delight; the narrow streets are lined with sidewalk cafes and interesting shops, and the street trees, many recently planted, are thriving.

The very wonderful and dangerous Powell’s Books is also in the Pearl District. Paul and I spent a little less than an hour there, and were lucky to get out for around $1 per person per minute. I scored a couple of mysteries and a long-coveted preserving book; Paul found a couple sci-fi titles he hadn’t yet read. I also fondled a few of the lovely Moleskine journals from Powell’s large selection, but none of them managed to seduce me into buying. If we lived closer, I’m sure they would eventually have their way with me.

Is it possible to have a crush on a neighborhood? I think so. While I love our century-old Seattle neighborhood and its lovely old houses, the Pearl District lures me into considering a different version of city living.

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It seems that New Orleans’ mayor is interested in replacing historical neighborhoods like this:

with crappy suburban tract housing like this:

I wish that I were surprised by this, but I’m not.

Optimism is in short supply here. And as people begin to sift through the wreckage left by Hurricane Katrina, there is a creeping sense that the final blow has yet to be struck - one that will irrevocably blot out the city’s past.

The first premonition arose when Mayor C. Ray Nagin announced that the model for rebirth would be a pseudo-suburban development in the Lower Garden District called River Garden [pictured above]. The very suggestion alarmed preservationists, who pictured the remaking of historic neighborhoods into soulless subdivisions served by big-box stores.

More recently, Mr. Nagin contemplated suspending the city’s historic preservation laws to make New Orleans more inviting to developers - evoking the possibility of architectural havoc and untrammeled greed.

Paste some faux wrought-iron railings on any old suburban McMansion plan and call it… New Orleans?

Read the whole article: (more…)