Stuff

On a visit to the Davis Public Library yesterday, I checked out In Flagrante Collecto (caught in the act of collecting), by Marilynn Gelfman Karp, a folio-sized paean to collections of all kinds and to their collectors, also of all kinds. There are lots of illustrations of things people have collected, interspersed with Karp's discoursing on the allure of it all.

Some of the collections are what you'd expect—stamps, baseball cards, old advertising signs, postcards, matchbooks—but some are truly bizarre. Ever met anyone who collects those tags attached to mattresses and upholstered furniture, the ones that say "Do not remove under penalty of law"? Apparently, many flouters of the law have amassed these in carefully tended collections. And how about "wait your turn" tickets, those little paper tabs imprinted with a number that tell you how long you have to stand around until the deli guy takes your order? These, too, are considered collectible by Ms Karp, who claims to have quite a few of her own.

I like lots of things and some part of my psyche would like to collect any number of interesting objects, but though I blame my lack of space as the reason I don't, I know the real reason, which is that everything that I bring home that could be called a collection never gets collected. It just ends up in a drawer or on a shelf behind something else, and dies of neglect. Oh, well . . . I'll be happy to save mattress tags for anyone who'd like them.

Watch your tongue

Lake Superior State University has issued its 2008 List of Banned Words, and not a moment too soon. I agree with most of their selections (among them, "wordsmith" and "authoring") and only regret that past entries are still around ("Your call is very important to us" [1996]). I don't know if "future plans" has made it to any previous list, but it gets my vote.

Diana Ross, call your agent . . .

. . . in the name of love, before you break my heart . . .
Think it oh-oh-ver . . .

Wish fulfillment

OK, the weather mavens got it right this time—plenty o' rain, more-than-plenty o' wind. I got off lightly compared to some (who had whole trees fall on their houses). Still, it was exciting in a scary kinda way, especially when a large limb crashed onto the roof of the house next door with an alarming WHOMMMP sound; luckily, it did little if any damage. All I suffered was a power outage, and in that I was joined by nearly the whole town. Mine was off for 23 hours, and as of yesterday, some people still were in the dark. Luckily enough, the lights downtown stayed on (Downtown Business Assn clearly has pull with PG&E), so, since no electricity = no cooking for me, I headed down to Crepeville for dinner along with a whole lotta other people, there and at other restaurants, bookshops and whatever else was open and lit.

But it was dark, really dark, in the parts of town that didn't have power, and it was disorienting. You don't realize how much light is usually around, not just from street lights but from lights inside houses, or porch lights, or even traffic signals. And the cloud cover added to the sense of inkiness. Add the hazards of branches and other debris all over the sidewalks and in the streets, and you've got some perilous walking or driving conditions.

But the birds didn't seem to mind any of it. Despite 50 mph winds and horizontally falling rain, the house finches were at the feeder. Looked a bit bedraggled, mind you, but apparently unfazed. How strong they must be.

Surveying my deck yesterday, I discovered this souvenir the wind had left (look at the right side of the feeder):
Here's a shot of the limb that fell next door:
And here's where it came from: