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Summer is here!

This is probably old news to most of you, but it just sort of hit me today.  It hit me in the weirdest possible way, too.  I was biking into work and shortly after passing Camp Randall, I got a craving to go to a football game.  It occurred to me, then, that I would not be going to any football games until summer’s over.  Which means that summer is here!  Hooray!

So, what are you kids up to this summer?  I’m playing on a tennis team (as usual and, as usual, not playing very well) and taking the annual family trip up north to Presque Isle for a week of lounging by the lake, reading crappy novels, taking naps, kayaking, playing Scrabble and eating yummy food with family.  We’re also headed out to Colorado at the end of this month for my friend Ingrid’s wedding.  I’m so excited about this because it’s a part of Colorado I’ve never been to — Durango.  Not easy to fly to, either, I will tell you.  At least from Madison.  We are flying Madison to Milwaukee to Denver to Durango, which — incidentally — was significantly cheaper than flying out of Milwaukee.  I digress.  I am really looking forward to the wedding because I know it will be a blast, but I’m also really looking forward to checking out some national parks in the area that have all sorts of preserved Aztec ruins.  Ruins!  Love them.

Anyway, so that’s about all that’s scheduled, I think.  I’d like to get some state park action in, as well as maybe some canoe time out on our lovely lakes.  Right now, though, I’m enjoying biking into work and hitting the tennis ball around.  Life is pretty good.

Except for this craptastic oil spill.  Ugh.

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Phew!

I really should have written as I went along, but since I was sick for most of the festival, just attending the films seemed like enough.  Now I have given myself the difficult task of recapping the past five days.  Because what fun is the film festival without being able to write about it?  Well, actually, it’s pretty fun either way.  The Wisconsin Film Festival, I do declare, is the BEST festival in the universe.  And I’ve been to Carnival in Venice and  Oktoberfest in Munich and Sundance in Park City.  Ha.  Ok, but I am serious — it runs so smoothly, there are a ton of great movies and the venues are mostly awesome and you can walk from one to another unlike, say, Sundance.  It has the added advantage to have been held on a gorgeous April weekend.  First outdoor Farmer’s Market of the season, spring game, New Heather was in town…Ah, there is nothing like Madison in spring.  I just love it.  Now, to the films.  And I apologize in advance for the long post.  But there’s a lot to say as there was a lot to see.

We bought tickets to 14 films, knowing that we wouldn’t make it to them all.  As my Dear Reader knows, I tend to need an “opt out” button in nearly everything I do.  This includes even things that I love, like the festival.  I need to be able to skip things.  So, we made it to 11 movies and I think that’s great.

Number one movie of the festival in both senses — it was the first movie we saw and I dare say it was the best.  At least it wins Kate’s Official Selection for Best Documentary.  And who wouldn’t want that award?  It’s called The Art of the Steal and it was produced by IFC so I imagine it will be widely distributed.  The movie was screened in a sweet little movie theater in the Overture Center/MMoCA that I had no idea existed.  It’s the story of Albert Barnes and his enormously wonderful collection of art, which is currently housed in the appropriately named Barnes Foundation in Merion, PA, outside Philadelphia.  The story traces Barnes’ life and his preeminent desire to keep his collection housed in the mansion he built in Merion and outside the hands of the Philadelphia art world.  As you may have guessed from the title of the movie, or if you know this story, his efforts and his will have been usurped by self-interested politicians and “charitable” groups who assert their good intentions.  Excellent movie.  It made me ask questions such as who has the right to see privately-owned art, if anyone; when should a person’s will be ignored, if ever; what interest do these huge charitable foundations really serve; and why have I not heard about this amazing collection earlier.  I gave it a 5 (the fest hands out ballots and viewers get to rate the movies on a scale of 1 to 5), of course, though I was tempted to give it a 4 just because the ending is so upsetting.

Next we saw the newest OSS movie: OSS 117:  Lost in Rio, which is a French parody of spy movies and is, as its predecessor was, hilarious.  It was fun to see at the Orpheum and the house was packed.  A fun 4.

Then we hit a bit of a road bump.  We saw Cooking History at the Wisconsin Union Theater.  Sidenote: I almost always forget how much I love that theater.  It’s just gorgeous — art deco-y and so cool.  Great place.  Cooking History, we thought, was going to be a light-hearted look at cooking for soldiers during war time.  I know that that must sound really stupid and naive, and rereading the description I see now that we kind of made that up, but it’s what I had envisioned.  Instead it’s pretty much a depressing tale about people who cooked during Europe’s nastiest wars.  And it really doesn’t say too much about the cooking.  And it’s laden with Eastern European and German languages so I found myself audibly breathing relief when the French came on the scene.  Gosh I really don’t like those icky “Schiepa, Ein, Schma, Tannenbaum” sounds.  Anyway, in all, I really have no idea what this movie was about and gave it a 2 because it didn’t totally stink, but it was a bit of a dud.

We rebounded nicely, though, when we walked back up State Street to the Orpheum to see The Most Dangerous Man in America, which is about Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers.  This movie was exactly what you’d expect: a movie about Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers.  It was really interesting as I learned that I had previously known very little about Ellsberg.  I gave the film a 4 because, while it was rivetting, I became confused a few times.  Wait, who’s that guy?  Wait, when was he a marine?  Wait, why couldn’t the FBI find him?  Anyway, it was a pretty perfect documentary.  It was no The Art of the Steal, but it had a lot of those elements you really want — a real hero, intrigue, Nixon swearing, etc — in a movie.

So, those were the ones we saw on Wednesday and Thursday.  Friday brought us to Human Terrain and Harmony & Me.  The former was billed as a documentary about the military’s training ground in the California desert that serves to mimic the conditions in Iraq and to act as a role-playing model for the soldiers.  Instead, the movie was really more about this one particular social scientist who decides to work for the military and be sent to Afghanistan in his effort to reduce the human toll the war has taken.  The movie explores the role of social scientists/anthropologists in war, which is an interesting question no doubt.  Should social scientists remain purely academic and stay out of the conflicts or do they have a duty to act and to try to change outcomes?  I gave it a 3 because it was an ok movie, but I felt misled.  Additionally, it really didn’t become clear that the movie was asking those questions, and centering on this one particular man, until about half-way or two-thirds of the way through.  Harmony & Me, on the other hand, was a delightful tale about a guy who can’t get over his ex.  Familiar terrain, yes, but light and cute and bright and fun.  It elicited true laughs from the crowd and true feeling.  A solid 4.

Saturday we hit three movies, all at the Orpheum.  We were sort of on a conveyor belt…Get in line for the 11 o’clock show, see the movie, exit; get in line for the 1:15 show, see the movie, exit; get in line for the 3:30 show, see the movie, exit.  The first movie was Sweetgrass, which is the tale of modern-day Montana shepherds who move sheep across many miles (why? I don’t really know.  We missed the first few minutes) of public land.  There is very little dialogue and even that which there was, it was hard to understand.  Except for the one cowboy/shepherd who curses at the sheep so severely that I worried there would be scarred children in the audience.  Mostly it’s just a really beautiful picture of Montana punctuated by lots of “BAAAAA!”s.  I found myself wondering if I could handle all the baa-ing without just screaming, “Shut up already!”  I think I gave it a 4.  Next up was the supremely wonderful, must-see, star of the narratives, A Matter of Size.  This movie is so good that it should be shown in cineplexes across the country.  It should be mandatory viewing in schools.  It should be shown every New Year’s Eve.  Or something like that.  This movie was so sweet and funny and original and adorable that I can’t say enough good things about it.  It is the story of overweight Israelis who tire of being called fat and tire of unsuccessful dieting and tire of feeling ashamed of themselves that they decide to take up sumo wrestling.  It’s also a love story.  It’s also a great story about friendship and loyalty and understanding and family and everything good in this world.  It’s also completely hilarious.  If I could have given it a 6, I would have.  We rounded out the day with a gem of a stop-action flick called A Town Called Panic.  It’s a Belgian movie (in French) that defies description.  But I’ll try.  It’s the story of Horse, Cowboy & Indian who live together in an oddly-shaped house.  Cowboy & Indian decide to build Horse a barbecue for his birthday.  Instead, though, of ordering 50 bricks for said barbecue, they accidentally order 50 million bricks.  What to do with the extra bricks? Put them on top of their house of course.  And that is just the beginning of the hilarity.  Keith Phipps from the Onion AV club introduced the film and I think he summed it up well when he said (something like), “There is a line in the film that goes, ‘Horse, my tractor is broken.  Can you pick up the animals from music class?’ And any movie that has that line is alright with me.”  A definite 5.

Yesterday was the festival’s last day and we ended on a high note — we saw Truth in 24 at the Chazen Art Museum and Paddle to Seattle at the Union Theater.  Both complete 5s, as far as I’m concerned.  Truth in 24 documents the car race at Le Mans and is narrated by Jason Stratham.  Great voice (though everytime he said ‘Peugeot’ I thought he was saying ‘Prussia,’ which was confusing for awhile).  The movie is so compelling that even me, a person totally uninterested in car racing, was on the edge of my seat.  I felt adrenaline rushes, nausea and physical exhaustion as I watched the Audi team give the race everything they had and more.  24 hours of car racing = crazy.  A similar type of crazy was on display in Paddle to Seattle, a documentary made by two fit young guys who got it in their heads that they should build kayaks (which were stunning) and sea kayak the inside passage from north of Juneau to, you guessed it, Seattle.  That’s 1300 miles and it took them 97 days.  The movie is so beautiful — close-ups of humpback whales, seals & grizzly bears — but it is also hilarious and totally charming.  These guys know how to make a movie.  It’s going to be on Wisconsin Public Television in July and I can’t wait to see it again.  Really, do not miss this film if you can avoid doing so.  You won’t regret it.

And now it’s Monday.  And the film fest is over.  But it’s still spring in Wisconsin and I have lots to look forward to.  The film fest is scheduled for the end of March next year, which I’m a little bummed about since I love the spring-y-ness of it in April.  But I’m not too bummbed because it means I don’t have to wait a whole year until I do it all again.  Thanks, WFF!  Best year yet.

Bonnets and bees

On a much lighter note, my bees are now out of my bonnet!  Well, mostly.  Well, mostly as far as the bedroom goes, I guess.  I mentioned a few posts ago that I woke up one morning, tried to move my bed, broke it, tossed it and was waiting the arrival of a new one from CB2.  I also mentioned that I decided that the new bed would require new nightstands and new lamps.  I mean, obviously.  New bed would not have been happy with nasty old nightstands and pretty lamps, but ones that wouldn’t have meshed with new bed.  After looking around online a bunch, I had settled on nightstands and lamps from CB2, as well.  And, of course new bedding.  I’ve discovered that some folks change their bedding seasonally, some not at all and then some are like me.  I like to fall in love with new bedding and keep it for a few years until I tire of it and then opt for something new that I fall in love with.  Usually I keep the old bedding in storage, but this time I just tossed it.  It was pretty ratty and I was severely annoyed by it.  Wasteful?  Yeah, maybe, but I have a one-bedroom condo a little over two miles from my work so I don’t think I break the top 100 in terms of environmental offenders even when I tossed out the old bedding.   If you remember, and especially if you don’t, this is how the bedroom looked before Operation New Bedroom began:

Old bedroom

The bed was particle board or something, as were the nightstands.  They had to go.  I had had enough.  This is what the bees led to:

New bedroom

It’s not radically different, I realize, but in a room with a layout like mine, the only way to go radical would be to, say, hang the bed from the ceiling or something.  I really like the new look — I think it looks clean and sleek.  While I would have preferred nightstands with a drawer, I was trying to save money.  The ones I liked best are $199 a piece, while these are $99 a piece and actually, I really like them.  I would choose them again.  I’ll pick up some cheap storage options from Target to place on the bottom shelf to hide things I would normally have in the drawer.  The bed is really low, which I actually like because I think it makes the room look bigger, calmer and is better for Gracie.  And it’s all about Gracie, of course. 

A word on CB2.  They are simply awesome.  Crate & Barrel and CB2 are the Nordstrom of the furniture world, as far as I’m concerned.  I originally had purchased these wonderful, sleek, nickel-based, touch-switch lamps that arrived last week.  While I absolutely loved the look, they didn’t work very well.  They would turn off on their own, not turn on at all at times, and flicker when they were on.  I emailed the company and they called me (!) suggesting I not use them.  They said they’d send new ones and I should send the old ones back in the boxes that would arrive with the new ones.  And they said to call them when I am ready to send them back because they will come pick them up (!).  Note: these are $50 lamps.  So, the new ones arrived on Saturday, but the same problems occurred.  So, I called them up — on Saturday — and after some voice prompting I heard, “We’re sorry, but all agents are busy.  The next available agent will answer your call in … 20 seconds.”  20 seconds.  On a Saturday.  I’m not even sure it took 20 seconds, but soon I was talking to a nice woman who couldn’t have been more helpful.  She seemed genuinely concerned about my problem (even exclaiming, ‘Oh dear!’) and said she would send UPS to pick up the  newer lamps on Monday and all I had to do was put them outside with a note on them saying, “For UPS.”  She said she would have the warehouse send me boxes for the older lamps (since they are out in the recycling bin) and when they arrived I should call back and they would again have UPS come and pick them up at my front door.  And then she placed the order for the lamps I chose instead — creamy white and awesome — and they arrived today!  I recommend CB2 (and Crate & Barrel) for everything.  EVERYTHING!  Even things they don’t sell.

Bad, bad day

I’m having a really lousy day.  Last week, a minor problem erupted within the union board.  Without going into too many details, I’ll just recount that I emailed my disagreement with the way the board’s president handled a particular matter.  He emailed back how much he disagreed with me and how his position was correct.  I responded that, of course, I did not see things that way but what’s done is done.  He responded — and these emails are all going back & forth among the seven members of the board — that he has members to protect (as if I don’t) and he would do what he did again to protect them regardless of my objections. [There were also several other condescending emails from him in the interim  — probably because I had made the mistake of attempting to temper my disagreement with him by kindly stating things like, “I’m confused as to why you would do such-and-such” as opposed to “Damn you for doing such-and-such.”]  I responded that I wish he would check the pompous-ness at the door, that I know he acted out of good intentions, but that he needs to respect my opinion and that all of us act out of our duty to our members, he is not alone in that.  He offered up this response on Saturday, which I did not receive until today:

Kate:

For somebody who is done talking about it, you do carry on.  Carper.  Throw names about, and you get em back.  You don’t like my position or the way I say things, so you decide its OK to be personally insulting.  I am a little tired too, of the constant back biting.  Basically, anything that has come out of my mouth the past six months, you have had a problem with.  You got a problem with me personally, give me a call Monday, and we can both let our hair down.  Pompous attitude indeed.  You walk a mile in my footsteps, see where you are.

And that about does it for me folks. I have done my best to try to lead this massive herd of cats.  But I have had just about all of the crap I am going to take.  My cup is full.  I will not be running for the Board in June. 

So, wow.  I sent the email to our past president (along with the rest of the email chain) and said that I didn’t understand where on earth he was coming from and was pretty upset.  Past President imparted to me that Current President is losing his marbles, sexist and incorrect that I had said anything personal in my email to Current President.  This felt better, but not great.  After taking a couple of hours to determine how to respond, I replied that there was nothing in my email that was offensive, that Current President’s effort to blame me for his decision not to seek reelection was insulting, that Current President takes cruel and hurtful words from other board members without insulting them in return, that I do disagree with a lot of what he does — which means, of course, that he disagrees with me and when he does so, I do not throw insults at him.  He has not responded.  I believe he may be out of town, which makes his Saturday email — on work email — all the more infuriating.  He tosses insults at me and knows that any response I have will be met with deaf ears for the time being. 

Anyway, what is my point?  It’s that I feel lousy.  I know that this man is not a person I would ever be friends with or even know outside the context of us both serving on the union board at the same time.  I know that I don’t really care what he thinks of me since I do not find him to exercise, or even have, good judgment most of the time.  I know that I find him, in the words of another board member, to be a bit of a blowhard.  I know that he is an unhappy man.  I know that he thinks more highly of himself than he has any right to.  But I also know me.  And no matter how much I know, I feel hurt.  I feel attacked.  I feel bullied.  And I feel alone in it all. 

I have always felt that if you see someone being treated poorly and you don’t do anything, you are complicit in that behavior to some extent.  Even when I was a kid, I never understood other kids who would say, in reaction to being told that a friend of theirs had been mean to another kid, “Well, she’s never done anything bad to me.”  What possible difference does that make?  Yeah, Idi Amin never did anything mean to me, either, but he’s a bad guy and I’m not going to be his friend.  There are people who seem to act as though  not getting involved is some sort of moral high ground, that not having people get angry with you is some sign of popularity or righteousness.  I believe the opposite.  I know I can do more and do better to stand up for the downtrodden, and I know that it’s not fun to get involved in arguments and conflict, but I do know that I always regret not doing something, not saying something more than I have ever regretted the opposite.  I don’t want to live my life not getting involved.

I am not saying that standing up to Current President is the equivalent of taking down a militant dictator, but it’s voicing my opinion that I think something was screwed up.  And my fellow board members’ silence — with the exception of one — regarding his email may be even more hurtful than the email itself.