Flamenco, Restrained Passion

"Mom" my daughter said, "you need to exercise more. You walk like an old lady."

I walk like an old lady?!  Was that because I only walked 3 miles on a snowy road and the rest of the family continued into the woods? Or because I'm stiff and totter a bit when I first get out of bed? 

If I were going to pick up a new exercise regime, I think it might be flamenco dancing.  

1) Flamenco burns calories, works important muscle groups, and
2) even older gals get to dance with the cute young guys.  

in Granada, Spain

3) The costumes are a lot more fun than spandex and draw the eye away from mid-body lumps. The long skirt would hide my varicose veins.  Low heeled shoes with a strap are safe for any age.

4) You don't have to compare stats with anybody, for example miles walked or your time for the 10K.  Who's going to ask how many times your castanets clicked per minute?

5) Of course, you'll have to learn to play castanets, which are made from and named after, chestnuts. 

6) It's an art form of restrained passion--dark glances over the shoulder, the disdainful tilt of the chin, or arms extended in invitation to the beloved. That's more excitement than a brisk walk any day.

7) Complex hand clapping and flourishes of a fluid, fringed shawl add more  drama, and a few more micro-calories burned.

So when Susanna asks how my exercise program is coming, I'll tell her I'm committed to being a flamenco dancer. As soon as my lessons begin in Spain.

Do you have a fantasy exercise program? Do tell.

Parking Meters Fight Homelessness

Sauntering through the Denver International Airport this week we passed a parking meter.

At least, it had been a parking meter. A bright idea and some paint transformed it into a quick, guiltless, fund raiser. 

 I'd left my spare change with the grandkids for their banks, but next trip I'll put it in my pocket for the homeless.

The parent organization has similar, blue meters in and around downtown Denver. From 2007 to 2013 they raised over $200,000. They accept change, debit and credit cards. 

If you find yourself going through the Denver airport, look for this one on B Concourse. Clean out the coins and help a family. 

Is merry leaking from your Christmas?

Creative Commons License photo credit: wolfsavard

Is the merry leaking from your Christmas? Did the advent season start with sharp edges like a broken ornament? Does society's tar-la-la-ing rub you the wrong way when you are struggling with  discord, illness, or outright tragedy? 



First of all, free yourself from "should." Your legitimate (as opposed to  deranged) thoughts and feelings don't have to match the Hallmark commercials. But if you can't point to any good thing in your life right now, seek help. 

Second, consider how and why you celebrate Christmas the way you do. It's  okay to scale back, or cut out the trappings of tradition. Instead, concentrate on nurturing relationships. 

Third, if you are a person of the Christian faith, remember that this wasn't a great time for Mary either.  She was pregnant before the wedding and a lot of folks didn't believe in her virgin birth 2000 years ago any more than they do today. In her ninth month, she hiked one hundred miles. Or if she was lucky she jostled on a donkey's back. And then she delivered her first child without her mama, in a cave, with Who Knows as midwife.

From the angel's briefing to the humble birth, nothing matched Mary's ideas of becoming a mother. Yet despite the circumstances, she hoped in the promise from the angel, "the Lord is with you" and she "treasured" the shepherds eye witness account of the angelic birth announcement, "pondering [these things] in her heart."

The reason we celebrate Jesus is because He is the hope of the world.  He promises that eventually those who love him won't cry any more tears.  Hope abides with Him even when hurt stomps all over your heart.

"May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word." 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17

My "page views" flat-lined

Successful bloggers have growing readership. Mine is more or less stagnant, and a graph of my "page views" looks like the flat line of an electrocardiogram.

So when I checked my statistics this week and saw a 1000% increase in readership, from 5 to 50, I looked again. I also found that Russia was the source of this huge increase.

Hmm, I don't think there was a big rush by babushkas to read about my making doll clothes. More likely, a "bot", web robot, was running an application that involved my site. I don't set store by artificially elevated statistics.

What I do value is every email, oral or posted comments you make telling me that something I wrote resonated with you. Thank you. 

And here's a link to another blog (whose readership numbers are rising) that eloquently lists what you can do to help spread the word about my blog. If somehow, the link doesn't pop up, you can google loriharris.me  7 ways to love 
your blogger. 

Even though it's #2 on Lori's list (in the link), don't bother hitting the Facebook thumbs-up graphic on my Facebook page. Instead, read what Lori has to say about encouraging your local, friendly blogger (me), item #4, 
and email my blog to somebody else who would like it.

Grandma's Workshop: Gift-Making and Gift-Giving

I love it when I can create something special for a Christmas gift. 

At one point my sisters and I shared the unfinished attic of an old farm house as our bedroom. Even though it had a couple of heat ducts it got pretty chilly. So I made one sister a long flannel nightgown for Christmas. It looked cute, but there was a little problem with the sleeves. When she woke the up the next morning  her hands were swollen about twice their regular size because the wrist elastic was too tight. 



This year I made doll clothes for a granddaughter's doll.  I pulled free basic  patterns off of the internet and raided my scrap boxes to make this cute pair of pjs. I double-checked the sizing by trying the garments on a same-sized doll to be safe. Good thing I did. I had to remake the shirt so it would fit over her big head and stiff arms. 

Once I got the kinks worked out I coasted on a creative rush. I designed the little wardrobe using odds and ends of former projects. Maybe my daughter will recognize some of the fabrics. 

I'm pretty sure the clothes will be a hit, which is all a grandma wants when choosing a gift for a youngster she loves. But gift-giving is more fun if it's also gift-making.

What was your "greatest hit" in gift-giving history?  What was your worst dud? 

Cable Company Art versus the Prado

I thought a visit to the Prada was obligatory since I was in Madrid. I shuffled through galleries crowded with ancient art for about an hour until I couldn't stand it. How many old Greek statues can a person enjoy? really? 

I much preferred the art I found on the streets of Spain. In Granada, the walkways were sometimes made of smooth river rocks laid on their edges to give the walker a little foot massage. And they frequently created patterns of leaves, or flowers, or in one case, an islamic scimitar.

Even the cable company left a little humor behind, rather than just pave over their ditch. 

In Barcelona, the sidewalks used a Gaudi design found years after his death for contemporary pavers. The hexagons had portions of three designs that came together as sea creatures when laid correctly. What can you see in these two?

Art celebrated more art! The first, a flamenco dancer. The second, cellist Pablo Casals. 

The giraffe rests languidly on her side, hedonistically inviting you to enjoy her on a fine day in the plaza.







We saw some graffiti, the kind that scribbles a quick name or symbol on a foundation corner. We verified with the cab driver that it was "tagging" of territory for drug sales.

These wall sized "pieces" expand names with shape and color, to declare love, or express pride. ( I hope there aren't hidden evil messages that I missed. )

 This one is in a nice neighborhood, I wonder if it's just tolerated, or appreciated.















This lower one is at the edge of Parc Guell (pronounced "way")  Gaudi's planned residential community built on what was the edge of Barcelona. Now you can enter for free. But you must purchase tickets ahead of time to get in and see the homes.  It's caused some dissension, apparently.

All of the examples were delightful and inspiring in their own way. Better than the Prado, in my opinion.   

Next time you see public art in a downtown street, stop and tell the closest retailer how much you appreciate it. 

Spanish Serenades

I loved being serenaded in Spain. And I don't mean a violinist strolling between restaurant tables. 

In Barcelona that meant the subway stations where an elderly violinist played to a track of greatest abbreviated classical hits; and a woman strummed acoustic guitar while singing in a clear voice. The tile walls magnified the sound like a really big shower. No thanks to rolling carts and portable karaoke machines, mediocre vocalists accompanied us as we traveled under the city. Then they passed the hat hoping for donations. 

The best ensembles were around the main cathedral. A dixieland jazz duo-trumpet and piano staked out the main entrance. Now that took some major effort! The piano had been rolled onto the plaza from who knows where. A nearby apartment lobby? A truck?

They drew a good crowd, and their donations were more than a drop in their bucket. I was happy to add my euros to it. And to the open music case of the group around the corner. 

There, an Indian-jazz fusion group set up. They had a mellow sound, the oboe player coming in with short improvisation. Usually I can't guess where a jazz melody line is going to go, but I could almost hum along with these guys. I wish there had been benches, I'd have listened for a lot longer. 







In Grenada a couple of scruffy young guys played hot-tub-for-the-mind music. I gave them B+ for the interesting miniature steel drum, only C for their sound.

The violinist in Madrid was clearly trained as a serious musician. We took an outside table at a little bar across the alley  and ordered a beverage so I could listen until he finished his set--about twenty minutes. He not only played beautifully, he engaged the children who came by. If they tarried, he got down to their level so they could clearly see how he created his magical sound.  One young dad danced with his infant. A passing toddler in a stroller turned his whole body to stay focused until he couldn't turn any further. 

I was reminded that there are many talented people in the world. Not all of them find spots on the stage. This man exuded joy, and I thanked him for sharing his disciplined skill and love of music with us that day.

These encounters are among the reasons I won't travel with a tour. They speed walk from "must-see" to "don't miss". And while doing so, they hurry by the very heart of a place.

Where has incidental music captured your attention?