Home

Hello, I’m Veronica

The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

  • , , , ,

    Adventures in Library-ing

    Early each calendar year I look back on the previous year’s expenses to discover areas in the family budget where I can trim. The price of food, gasoline, and other “have-to-have’s” always seems to go up, so I search for items that are not so “have-to-have” to balance things out. A good example is books. I read two or three a month on my Kindle e-Reader. At say, $14.99 a pop that’d be over $500 I could carve out of annual expenses… if I could only get those same books at no cost. But where-oh-where could I possibly find books for free?

    You bibliophiles out there (and the rest of you, for that matter) are laughing as I’m about to describe going to the library as an adventure, but here’s the thing.  I’ve been e-reading on my Amazon Kindle for so long that the idea of holding a book and turning its pages – let alone checking one out of a library – has become, well, novel again.

    I wouldn’t have reached this crossroads were it not for a particular book.  Amazon described Frank Delaney’s The Matchmaker of Kenmare just the way I’d hope: an intriguing WWII-era work of fiction.  So I went to “try a sample”(where Amazon allows you the first several pages of the book for free) and – horror of horrors – it’s not available in digital format.  WHAT?  No e-Version?  You’re saying, Amazon, I have to shell out $24.99 for the hard copy if I want to read it?

    A book for $10 doesn’t make me pause but one for $25 sure does.  Hence began my library adventure.  The last time I spent meaningful time in one was in college (and I don’t want to tell you how long ago that was).  The library experience is probably different in every way now, starting online. When I “checked out” my library’s website (ha) I discovered I could get a digital library card almost immediately.  With the digital card I could reserve and check out books from the comfort of my home computer.  Hurrah, free books here I come!

    Oh how I wish it were that easy.  Turns out, my library’s software is not compatible with an Amazon Kindle.  No digital books for me, sigh.  And besides, physical books – like the one I wanted – require a physical library card.  So with no other excuse to avoid it, I got in my car and headed off to my local branch.  Guess what?  Parking at the library is free.  Entering the building itself is free (no cover charge!).  Getting a library card is free.  Even the library bathrooms can be used without having to check out a book first.

    Our main (and modern) library branch

    Yes, this is my tax dollars at work of course, but the illusion of all this free stuff is fun while it lasts.  And boy howdy, libraries aren’t what they used to be.  Ours has all these rooms and services and people, as if the surrounding shelves of books are merely a carry-over from past generations.  You can sit down to public-access computers, attend a lecture, host a meeting, rent DVDs, buy coffee, and even spend time in a room of books dedicated to the history of the surrounding county.  Maybe this is all review for you, but it’s a little overwhelming for an e-reader who’s navigating libraries of the new world.

    Our secondary (and ancient) library branch

    There’s more to this adventure in library-ing than I have time for today (including the over-the-river and through-the woods visit to a different and decidedly ancient branch in my library’s network), but let’s close the book on this topic with a “laugh’s on me” conclusion.  As I was researching for this blog post I went to the Amazon page for my Matchmaker… novel again.  Go figure; it’s available in digital format after all, and even in paperback.  How did I miss these options the first time around?  Must be the library gods telling me to go old-school and get a physical copy for free.


    LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #4

    (Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

    Click the photo for a more detailed view

    As Notre-Dame de Paris rises slowly from its foundations, I often picture a congregation of parishioners down there at ground level, sitting quietly in the pews.  Startled by the snap of a LEGO block above them, they gaze skyward, see my giant fingers, and wonder, “OMG is that the hand of God?”  No, no, little ones, it’s just Dave, working through Bag 7… of 34 bags of pieces.

    The little devil was still in the bag

    Today almost included the long-awaited moment where I realize with mock horror that LEGO left a piece out of one of their model sets.  I churned through my piles of pieces, endlessly stirring and turning them over and over, but to no avail.  A piece was missing, and that sick-to-your-stomach feeling settled in deep, the way you reach the end of a jigsaw puzzle minus one piece.  Then, to my utter amazement, I spied it out of the corner of my eye.  The tiny traitor was still in Bag 7.  Wow.  Good thing that plastic bag wasn’t already relegated to the trash, huh?

    “Underfed” buttresses

    On the other hand, with more excitement than it probably deserved, today we began construction of Notre-Dame’s signature flying buttresses.  At first I was disappointed in the LEGO pieces, because I thought they looked a little, well, “underfed”.  Then I remembered; we’re only beginning the structure of the buttresses.  The finished look you see on the outside of Notre-Dame is supported by a complex of arches and columns well below it.  Here I thought my “God’s hand” was already working at roof level but in fact, we’re only about halfway up the structure.

    Running build time: 3 hrs. 32 min.

    Total leftover pieces: 16


  • , , , ,

    Mind Your Mannerisms!

    My late father had a habit I always admired. He’d send personal notes of thanks to those he felt deserved his gratitude. His notes were not smartphone texts, emails, or Word documents. They were handwritten sentiments on heavy card stock, his name elegantly embossed across the top. Why did these notes capture my admiration? Because I’ve forgotten how to write them myself.  Or more to the point, I’ve forgotten how to write.

    America’s Common Core Standards – the guidelines by which most states create curriculums for school grades 1-12 – no longer include cursive writing.  Students still learn to write block letters, but the flowing, looping mannerism of cursive has pretty much been left behind.  Instead, typing is more Common Core, and probably taught in a grade much sooner than my own middle school years.  Frankly, the only remaining argument in favor of cursive writing might be for the signature of one’s name.

    Autopen

    Even handwritten signatures have fallen by the wayside.  Ever heard of an Autopen?  It’s a mechanical hand, designed to hold a pen and duplicate one’s signature over and over.  The Autopen is popular with politicians who want their handwritten signature on countless memos and letters, but without the added task of actually signing them.

    I have a sort of Autopen myself but it’s more of a stamp.  I sent my handwritten signature to a company and a few weeks later I received a stamp in return.  When used with just the right amount of pressure it’s the spittin’ image of the one I’d sign with my own hand.  It’s something of a writing “crutch”.

    The hard truth is, over the years my cursive has devolved from “Dave, you have beautiful handwriting” to “Uh, what is that supposed to say?”  I can’t even read my own writing anymore.  To add to this misery my hands shake a little, which means my formerly elegant loops and curls are now jiggly, scribbly lines.  Filling out the tip, the total, and the signature on a restaurant receipt is now a legitimate challenge in legibility.

    It didn’t occur to me until recently that my illegible handwriting is simply the product of no longer writing by hand.  I’ve always believed this degradation was the result of aging fingers, hands, and the associated muscles required for cursive writing.  To a certain extent this is true.  But more importantly, my writing muscles just don’t remember what to do anymore.

    Beginning of the end of cursive

    The first day I walked into typing class was likely the first day my cursive writing went downhill.  The manual typewriter, followed by the electric typewriter, followed years later by the computer keyboard ensured I could create quick and perfectly legible documents in myriad fonts.  Cursive writers average only 13 words a minute.  Typists?  40, 60, sometimes as many as 80 words a minute.

    But the pursuit of writing efficiency comes at a somewhat alarming cost.  You lose the connection between mind and matter.  Cursive writing is slow-w-w, which translates to more focus on what you are writing about as you form the letters.  Typing feels more like a sprint to the finish, to get your thoughts through the keyboard as quickly as possible.  Think of cursive as “in your own words”, while typing is “verbatim”.

    Here’s an interesting experiment for you bloggers to consider.  Write your next post in cursive before you take to the keyboard.  See if your “voice” doesn’t sound a little more thoughtful than the one from the keyboard.  Now here’s an experiment for me.  What if I were to spend ten minutes a day trying to restore my handwriting?  Would it eventually be described as “beautiful” once again?

    Side note: I’ve somehow retained the dexterity of playing the piano, even though I don’t sit down to the keyboard very often.  I’ve noticed my fingers hover over the piano the same way they do over the computer keyboard.  Maybe this is muscle memory at work, no matter what the fingers are doing?

    Someday it wouldn’t surprise me to see a famous quote, penned in beautiful flowing cursive, framed and displayed as artwork in a museum.  The piece would bring us back to simpler days, back to the times when a physical hand put deep thoughts on physical paper.  Of course, the question then would be, will anybody still be able to read cursive?


    LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #3

    (Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

    Click the photo for a more detailed view

    There were moments in the build today where I would’ve preferred to be laboring on the real cathedral.  Bags 4, 5, and 6 – of 34 bags of pieces – were loaded with some of the tiniest pieces I’ve ever seen in a LEGO set.  As I spilled out one of the bags a determined little square tile dashed away to the deep, dark recesses underneath my desk.  If it weren’t for my phone’s flashlight I might never have rescued him.

    The east end of the sanctuary (and altar beyond)

    We built a lot of round, structural columns today.  I’ve never seen a step in a LEGO instruction manual asking for 48 identical pieces, but there I was, stacking them in my hand as I counted, “33, 34, 35…”.  Those 48 pieces assembled to the 24 columns you kind-of sort-of see here.

    The altar from above (before this is all covered up!)

    We also reinforced, filled in, and rose to new heights the curving east end of the cathedral.  This assembly brought new levels of frustration, in that the installation of some pieces caused others to promptly dislodge.  Indeed, at one point a very tiny piece skittered onto the floor of the cathedral (hidden within those 24 columns) and the only way to get him out was to rock the whole assembly back and forth in my hands the way you would a marble maze.

    I spy an upside-down LEGO logo 😦

    I need to do a better job of taking photos as I build, because the fruits of my labor are already being covered up by the higher structure of the cathedral.  Maybe it was no different with the artisans of the real Notre-Dame de Paris, who crafted in very small spaces knowing almost no one would ever see the detail of their work.  At least I have a camera.  Back then they’d have to make a painting of what they created just to show off their accomplishments!

    Running build time: 2 hrs. 50 min.

    Total leftover pieces: 11 (!)

    Some content sourced from The Guardian article, “Signature moves: are we losing the ability to write by hand?”


  • , , , , , , ,

    Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance

    I managed to get through high school literature class without having to wrestle with Shakespeare, not even once. To me, Romeo and Juliet are simply characters from a movie I’ve never seen. Hamlet is another name for a small village. Othello is a board game I played as a teenager. But hey, maybe I should be a fan of Shakespeare. After all, he gets the credit for penning the phrase “pomp and circumstance”.

    It’s true – “Pride, pomp, and circumstance (of glorious war!)” is a line from Shakespeare’s play Othello, written way back in 1603.  Somewhere in the hundreds of years since, “Pomp and circumstance” became the name of the musical march we all associate with graduation ceremonies.  But for today’s purposes, pomp and circumstance (or “P&C” if you will) means “formal and impressive ceremonies or activities”.  And Monday’s presidential inauguration ceremony was the perfect example of that.

    I am a big fan of American P&C.  Without it the inauguration ceremony would’ve been nothing but mundane repeat-after-me oaths.  With it you get your heart fill-er-upped with pride.  Monday’s ceremony was replete with red, white, and blue decor.  American flags were everywhere.  The guests of honor were escorted to their seats by men and women in splendid uniforms.  The cannons nearby boomed over and over when the oaths were completed.  And for my American dollars, nothing says pomp and circumstance like those patriotic anthems.

    U.S. Naval Academy Glee Club

    Having spent most of my years in Colorado Springs, “America the Beautiful” is close to my heart because its lyrics were born from the top of nearby Pikes Peak.  All credit to Carrie Underwood for her performance of its first verse on Monday, enduring technical difficulties to sing a cappella.  Then there was the charismatic Rev. Lorenzo Sewell, embellishing his prayer of gratitude with the opening lines of “My Country Tis of Thee”.   And you’d be forgiven for shedding a tear during the soaring “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, belted out by the men and women of the U.S. Naval Academy Glee Club (and earning a standing ovation).

    Macchio

    But I’m forgetting one more anthem.  Or should I say, I can’t forget the one more.  Yes, Christopher Dean Macchio (“America’s tenor”) sang “The Star Spangled Banner” to close out the inauguration ceremony, but he also performed another anthem to kick things off and I’m still humming it today.  Why, I ask myself, have I never heard “O, America” before?

    “O, America” – go figure – was written by an Irishman.  Brendan Graham penned the lyrics into a big hit for the group “Celtic Woman”.  You’d think the words would be from the perspective of someone overseas but “O, America” is clearly about someone here… and someone now.  Have a listen and I think you’ll agree.  In the words of Othello, “O, America” is all about “pride, pomp, and circumstance”.  This week I am filled with all three.


    LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #2

    (read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

    I’m glad I remembered my antiperspirant today.  Bags 2 and 3 – of 34 bags of pieces – encouraged sweat, tested patience, and made me realize my fingers are anything but nimble.   My hands are still shaking after the hour and change it took to build this section.

    We started by tiling the cathedral floor.  Look closely – those black and white pieces aren’t all the same shape or orientation.  I installed one wrong and almost needed pliers to get it back out.  Imagine if you made the same mistake on the floor of the real Notre-Dame.  You’d get fired for wasting priceless marble!

    Having said that, the floor was just a warm up for the colonnade that now rises up around the altar.  It is made from tiny, tiny pieces!  I think LEGO should invent special gloves that a) allow you to easily grasp these little guys while b) protecting your fingers from their sharp edges.  Pressing them into place again and again can be painful!  Those beige column supports you see on the tile floor left little round dents in my fingertips.

    Finally, notice the repetitive structure of the colonnade, like a circle of rocket ships ready to launch.  LEGO shows you how to build one of these vertical elements (each one is about twenty pieces) and then goes, “Okay Dave, do that fourteen more times”.  The Grand Piano was also tough but I wouldn’t say it was repetitive.  Notre-Dame de Paris has found a new way to test my patience.

    Running build time: 1 hour 37 min.

    Total leftover pieces: 5

    Some content sourced from the Irish Central article, “Irishman’s song ‘O America’ performed at Trump’s inauguration”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.


  • , , , ,

    See You In (my) Church

    When I went to Sunday school many, many years ago, they taught us the little ditty “Here Is The Church” (… here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people). You’d make a church with your hands pressed together as you sang, raising the steeple by extending and touching the tips of your pointer fingers. Today, sixty-odd years later, those same hands will build a cathedral – Notre-Dame de Paris. Granted my church is made from LEGO blocks and the entire model will be smaller than a cornerstone of the real Notre-Dame, but at least the steeple is made from more than fingers.

    So then, “Here Is The Cathedral”… in its purchased form. The cardboard box you see is not what I would call huge, but it’s an ample residence for 4,383 plastic pieces. These pieces dwell in thirty-four separate plastic bag communities, just begging to be liberated.  Buried underneath all these subdivisions (in the crypt, if you will) is the brick of an instruction manual, a veritable phone book of almost 300 pages. C’mon, you didn’t think we’d raise this cathedral in a single blog post, did you?

    Mr. Instruction Manual could be called the mayor of this manufactured mess. He guides me on who gets together with who, when they get together, how they get together, and what it’s all supposed to look like as I go.  Mr. Manual has pages and pages of impressive illustrations (like this one), but also some LOL ones (like the one below). I mean, check out the upper left corner.  Am I really supposed to vigorously shake the bag out like that? The tiny residents will go running in all directions! We’re trying to create order from chaos here, people, not the other way around.

    I expect all of the same challenges I encountered when I built the LEGO Grand Piano. I’ll think pieces are missing until somehow they appear right in front of me. I’ll connect pieces incorrectly and have to backtrack several steps to get them right. I’ll be left with extra pieces every now and then, and forever wonder if they were really “extra” or perhaps “overlooked”.  And I’ll police plastic piles around the meager real estate of my home office desk.  Maybe I require a shepherd’s crook or a bullhorn?  I mean, it’s me versus 4,383 others so you can see how one or two of them are bound to escape.

    Here’s a thoughtful aspect of LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris, and oh-so appealing to the architect in me. The model will be built in the same chronological order as the original was (instead of, say, from the ground up). The first twenty years of Notre-Dame’s construction produced only the rounded east end you see here, which served by itself as a functioning church. The next twenty years generated the full footprint but without the roof, towers, and other noteworthy exterior elements.  The final sixty years brought everything across the finish line.  So I’ll be building the LEGO model in the same order, only in a hundred days (or less) instead of a hundred years.

    10,000 piece tower

    Before I snap Piece 1 onto Piece 2, let me dress down my many thousands of new plastic friends.  Together they comprise nowhere near the largest of the LEGO sets.  A model of Harry Potter’s Hogwarts Castle is over 6,000 pieces.  The LEGO Star Wars Millennium Falcon is over 7,500 pieces.  LEGO Titanic (er, before it sank): 9,000 pieces.  And standing regally at the top of the LEGO podium (and just a twenty-minute bus ride from Notre-Dame de Paris): the Eiffel Tower, the only LEGO model to exceed 10,000 pieces.  To each of these top-tens I say non.  Notre-Dame will be challenge enough for this builder/blogger.

    LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #1

    Now that we’ve had the prelude (so to speak) it’s time for the church service to begin!  Bag #1 – of 34 bags of pieces – houses the first 100 or so of the little guys.  LEGO thoughtfully opted for a sub-community in Bag #1 for the tiniest of residents (some of which are just begging for tweezers).

    chaos

    Mr. Instruction Manual (who is multilingual by the way; he speaks English, French, and Spanish), warns me to “… avoid danger of suffocation by keeping this bag away from babies and children!”  Mr. Manual also wants me to know my thousand of pieces were manufactured in five different countries: Denmark (of course), Mexico, Hungary, China, and the Czech Republic.

    danger

    It’s fair to say I haven’t stood in the LEGO “pulpit” for awhile.  I snapped pieces together incorrectly at least three times today.  I also thought I was missing pieces twice, and I fretted over the fact I ended up with two leftovers.  Let’s hope our church service is smoother next week!  In the meantime, here is the build of Bag #1.  Not much to look at but at least it’s the foundation of the east end of the Cathedral.  In 1163 Pope Alexander III oversaw the first stone being set in place.  In 2025 nobody saw me do the same.

    order

    Bag #: 1

    Running build time: 25:38

    Total leftover pieces: 2


  • , , ,

    Highest Chair

    When we babysit our granddaughters here at the house, we tap into several items to make the job easier. A big basket of toys and stuffed animals sits in the corner of our living room. A dozen children’s books line the lowest shelf just waiting to tell their stories. Sesame Street is easily streamed on the nearby television. And at dinner time we roll out the high chair so everyone’s on the same level. So who would’ve thought a high chair would be my blog topic for today? Maybe you, if you know anything about cathedrals.

    Notre-Dame de Paris

    We’re almost there, loyal readers.  I will lay the corner-block of my LEGO model of Notre-Dame de Paris next week.  Why not this week, you ask?  Because before we crack the seal on the giant box of pieces, we need to pay a little respect to the real Cathedral.  I want you to know a few things about the stone and glass Notre-Dame before you witness the rising of the plastic one.

    West facade

    It’s a cathedral in the middle of Paris, Dave… what more do I need to know?  Uh, a LOT more.  To begin with, do you even know what a cathedral is?  I didn’t (and I have a background in architecture, for gosh sake).  It’s a big, giant church with stained glass and chapels and a raised altar, you say.  Well yes, you’re right, but what makes a church a cathedral?  Interestingly, it has nothing to do with the building itself.  Instead, a cathedral is the seat of a bishop (the ordained clergy-person who presides over the surrounding parishes). For lack of a church this person could just as easily be in a small house and it would still be considered a cathedral.

    Cathedrals really do have “high chairs” on their altars for the bishops (cathedra in Latin means “seat”) but Notre-Dame de Paris is much more than a place for furniture.  First and foremost, it took a hundred years to construct (1163-1260).  In that era the building evolved from the common Romanesque style of the period to the more elegant French Gothic.  Notre-Dame feels unusually vertical and airy for a structure of its time and there’s a novel reason for this: flying buttresses.

    Flying buttresses

    Imagine Notre-Dame’s architect – Eugène Viollet-le-Duc – talking to the Paris city council in the twelfth century and saying, “Look guys, let’s think outside the box here… literally.  The structural support for this church ought to be outside of the building instead of inside”.  Why would the architect want this?  Because the flying buttresses assume the structural load that was previously handled by short, thick interior walls.  The result is taller, more dramatic spaces, filled with the light of high-up stained glass windows.  In other words, flying buttresses allow Notre-Dame to “reach for the heavens” much better than its Romanesque predecessors.

    North rose window

    There’s also more to this French “grande dame” than structure, of course.  Notre-Dame has twenty-nine chapels surrounding the main sanctuary (that’s gonna take a lot of LEGO).  It features three spectacular stained glass “rose” windows that would not be as large or as high were it not for those flying buttresses.  Notre-Dame’s twin towers host ten massive bronze bells and they each have first names.  “Emmanuel” (listen to his sound bite below) and “Marie” are so big they take up the entire south tower, while their eight ringing siblings all fit into the north tower.

    Notre-Dame also has a central flèche, a spire not unlike the ones you see on more modest churches.  This spire, however, is topped by a bronze rooster, which is not only the symbol of the French state but also a container for (supposedly) a small piece of the Crown of Thorns, worn by Jesus leading up to his crucifixion.

    Rooster-topped “flèche”

    As you would expect, Notre-Dame de Paris hosts countless works of art, whether paintings or sculptures.  Many of the sculptures are biblical scenes intended to educate the illiterate parishioners of the twelfth century.  But my favorite sculptures may be those of the twelve apostles, way up high surrounding the base of the flèche and looking outwards towards Paris… all except one.  St. Thomas – patron saint of architects – faces Notre-Dame itself, and was given the facial features of Viollet-le-Duc.

    Okay, so now you know more about Notre-Dame de Paris than just the LEGO model.  Considering there are over 500 Gothic cathedrals in Europe, it’s impressive to see Notre-Dame at the very top of at least one “Top Ten Cathedrals” list.  We’ll visit some of those other “high chairs” in future posts, to add even more life to my pile of plastic pieces. In the meantime, my LEGO “church service” begins promptly at 10am next Thursday.

    Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.


About Me

The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.

Follow Me On

Subscribe To My Newsletter

Subscribe for new travel stories and exclusive content.