The artist formerly known as Madster

I am always venturing into unknown territory. This time, I thought I'd try some abstract expressionism. Here is my new technique. What do you think?



I'm also, of course, working on realism. That's a picture of my grumpy mom who doesn't understand that naps and going to bed early are not part of an artist's life. Am I wrong?

You Win(d) Some, You Lose Some

We definitely lost this week, and I'm not talking about the value of my 529 account either. Though, at this rate, I'll be lucky to afford state schools when I am college-aged. But, back to my point, the Santa Ana winds hit early this week. I lost the patio umbrella that gave me shade whenever we ate outside in our beautiful garden. Mom lost new plants she just put into the ground, including some of our fall and winter vegetables. Dad lost his new pool floats. Apparently, the desert heats up and sends gales up to 75 mph through the valleys to the ocean, regularly. I thought we weren't in California anymore after a night of terrifying winds.




But, we still counted our blessings. One of mom's new mommy friends lost her home in a wildfire fueled by the winds, and another was evacuated at 2 am. Mom says she is going to pack a suitcase and leave it in the car when the Santa Anas return. I hope she remembers my blankies.

I had a playdate with my new friend Soo-ji today. A snippet of conversation from dinner:

Daddy: Do Soo-ji's parents speak Korean to her at home?

Mommy: I don't know. Yono claims she doesn't speak Korean. She understands it, but she doesn't speak it.

Me: I speak Korean.

Mommy and Daddy: (laughter)

Me: I speak Gram. Can we see Gram? [Note: Gram is pronounced "garee-am" in Maddie-ese and therefore sounds kind of like "Korean."]

Daddy: Not "Gram" -- "Korean"!

Me: Gram is in Korea?

We're the Mesopo-TAY-MEEE-ANS!

Dear Readers,

I'm going to turn this one over to dad, because I never know what he's talking about when he talks about work:

One of the interesting things about Los Angeles is that it appears to have a bit of an ancient Near East fetish. Not so much the universities, as you might expect (although there's a lot going on there, too) -- no, I mean the broader culture.

People will tell you that Glendale is the most Armenian place in America, and let me tell you -- those Armenians like them some ancient Near Eastern nostalgia. Mostly that plays out in names of restaurants and such, but straight down the hill from our house on the main road is this:



The first time I saw that (after I drove off the road), I took it as a clear Yahwistic omen that we were to buy this house. I mean, given, someone really didn't do their art history homework on this one -- I believe the technical term for this style is not "Urartian" but "Neo-Assyrianish" -- still, points for enthusiasm.

If it was an omen, there may be another house somewhere around Commerce, CA, that would have been equally divinely approved for us (although it would have been a long commute), because of this:







According to this Web site (and who would doubt the information of someone who reviews outlet malls for fun?): "The exterior of the Citadel Mall was created to look like the Babylonian palace of King Sargon II! The unusual Babylonian/Assyrian archetectural [sic] style was dreamed up by the owner of a tire-production company (first owner of this complex), and was built back in 1929. During its long history, this building was also used in the filming of the epic Hollywood movie, Ben Hur!"

The construction date makes it a late reflex of the popular fascination with Mesopotamia that started around the turn of the 20th century -- before the great Depression and the Second World War made such things look decadent (again), I suppose. Why is it that, to my knowledge, our very recently deceased Gilded Age didn't give rise to such ambitious Babylonisms? (I mean, Urartu Restaurant... that's just not a contender. Neither is this.)

So in sum, even on the far side of the world from the Holy Land, I am surrounded by reminders of my research. There is something right about the fact that they preside over outlet malls and banquet facilities.

I suppose if I were more of the Falwell stripe, I might take these as symbols that I have come to "Los Angeles Babylon," a cauldron of unholy loves singing about my ears. Instead, when I drive on the freeways of the Golden State, I simply enjoy hearing echoes of a very old culture in this young city.

...

Dear Readers,

Maddie here again. See what I mean? Gibberish. Back to me next time.

--Maddie

Dear Wall Street

Dear Wall Street,

I sent you a gift of $2000 today, and I am just writing to say that I hope you enjoy it. I hope that after all your six-figure bonuses, this little gift from me helps you to not feel the pinch of the economy too much, while small businesses are failing, and parents are dropping off their children at police stations because they can no longer take care of them.

And dear Congress, enjoy your back-slapping. Way to take a stand. It's amazing how much better that cow patty tasted when it was covered in pork, eh?

Of course, I didn't really send $2000...

...it could be more. Who knows how much this will end up costing me and the other two-year-olds of America?

Dad says this is what you get when you send anti-intellectual robber barons to the White House. I don't know anything about that; I just hope you and your rich friends feel better now, Mr. Paulson, because I'm a sweet little 2-year-old girl, and I like for everyone to be happy.

--Maddie