You Know Nothing, Word Play

I heard that Game of Thrones fans have a petition on Change.org asking for a re-write of the final episode, now that the juggernaut that is GOT has, at least for now, come to an end. I had a chance to watch the episode twice, and while I was prepared not to like it, honesty compels me to say that—know-nothing though I am—I thought it was rather impressive. Elegiac, tragic, bleak, shocking, solemn—all of those things, with happy endings few and far between. From my understanding of the show, events were leading rather inexorably toward something very much like what happened, though I was sorry that one of my favorite characters was among the casualties. Hasn’t GOT been doing this type of thing from the beginning, getting you to like people and then doing them in? When ruthless people jockey for power, people die—I believe it was Cersei who pointed that out.

However, the people calling for a rewrite could be on to something. As I understand it, people feel that some of the characters veered into unexpected directions that weren’t consistent with previous actions and that destruction of the Night King in Episode 3 this season threw a wrench into the logical unfolding of later events. I liked an article in which someone explained the problem in terms of the standard exposition/rising action/climax/denouement structure we all remember from school. The basic argument is that the climactic action came too early in the season and forced the last few episodes to produce a second climax when one should have been enough. Though I’m recalling that in The Lord of the Rings, there were several big battles before the final climax, I can’t argue with people who know GOT better than I do and say that all the big buildup was toward a confrontation with the Night King.

While this is purportedly the end of this iteration of the series, we all know of cases in which characters were killed and shows ended only to be resurrected later. I think I feel what a lot of viewers are feeling, which is how big a hole the killing off of so many major characters left in the program. It was as if half the oxygen had been sucked out of Westeros, leaving a huge vacuum. Grief feels that way, and I think a lot of viewers are likely in mourning over the loss of characters they’ve come to know over eight seasons. I was surprised at how sad the scene in which Tyrion finds Cersei and Jaime in the rubble of the Red Keep made me; I had never even seen GOT before the end of Season 7.

I disagree, however, with people who feel that Jaime’s actions in returning to his sister were inconsistent with the direction he’d been going in. I admired him for returning to King’s Landing and not abandoning his sister. As strange as their relationship was, it seemed to be a central fact in both of their lives. While he had been moving away from her (and might have continued to do so if he had lived), in the final push, blood was still thicker than water. From what I understand of Ser Jaime’s character, he never would have been able to live with himself afterward if he hadn’t been with his twin in the final crisis. I thought he behaved very honorably.

I also disagree with those who think that Brienne of Tarth acted out of character by crying when she and Jaime parted and then writing down his story in the final episode. What, can’t a girl be a knight and have feelings, too? Don’t you suppose she suspected it might be the last time she’d ever see him? Was there anyone in a better position to fill in his page after his death in the annals of the realm? Brienne had moved into a position of power on the Council by the end of the episode and was obviously going to be a key player in the future of Westeros — is she any less a knight for looking off into the distance occasionally and thinking about someone who isn’t there?

Having said all that, I confess, if I had written the final episode, I would have done it differently. I find the whole Daenerys/Jon Snow finale too thorny a problem and would leave that for someone else to rewrite if they could (to me, Daenerys did seem, if not mad, then increasingly ruthless and unlikely to change direction). I would have had someone come along after Tyrion left the ruins of the keep, find Jaime barely breathing, and then spirit him away to some secret place for healing. Well, what of it—wasn’t Jon Snow brought back from actual death? These things can be managed—it’s show business, after all. I would have had Jaime find his way back to Brienne in time for GOT II, and they would spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out how to be together, which might not be as simple as settling down together in a castle somewhere. Both seemed to me to be very independent, complicated people. There’s enough material there to fill a number of seasons just in that subplot alone.

Well, there you have it, and if anyone calls me, I’ll be glad to undertake that re-write—for a small fee. And by the way, three cheers for the survival of Tyrion, one of my other favorite characters. Watching him moving those chairs around so noisily in the Council Room gave me hope for the future. A little compulsiveness never hurt anybody.

Elegy for Lost Items

The big adventure I had this week was having my cell phone taken from my locker at work. This is a $10 phone, folks, not an expensive iPhone, but it did cause me the aggravation of having to deactivate my service, buy a new phone, set it up, reactivate my service, find out how to get a list of any phone calls that may have been placed to or from my phone while it was out of my hands, and stop by the police station at midnight to report the theft (a police report is required if you want to request your own phone records—not sure if this is a requirement if someone tries to get them through FISA).

It wasn’t the first time I missed something that I thought I’d left in my locker and will hopefully be the last—but you never know. I liked the other phone better, even though all it really did was make and accept phone calls, but they don’t produce it any more, so I had to accept an upgrade, which I did, more or less ungraciously. It does have several pleasant-sounding alarm tones to choose from; lets you turn Wi-Fi definitively off, so you don’t connect to the Internet without meaning to (admittedly a drawback on the other phone); and caused me to stroll through Target, where I fell in love with some decorative pitchers that I don’t need but enjoyed looking at.

I don’t know about you, but it strikes me as odd that someone would take a $10 phone. It reminds me of the time I was staying at Extended Stay in SoCal two years ago and someone stole my cell phone charger (a $7 item) out of a zipped compartment. I remember racing over to the closest Walmart to where I was working and buying one on my lunch hour, the one and only time I’ve seen Knott’s Berry Farm (which was in the vicinity). When I made a police report in that case, the officer seemed not to understand the fact that it wasn’t the value of the item that mattered but the fact that someone at the hotel had gone into my room and stolen it. This time, I did at least get the feeling that the officer frowned on the whole lack of security around the lockers—he asked if the store had security cameras.

Naturally, things like this put you in a bad mood. I don’t ever recall giving anyone permission to disrespect my personal space or the sanctity of my possessions, but people seem to have peculiar ideas about what they can get away with these days. We do still live in a country of laws, but you would never know it by either reading the news or listening to me recount the things that have happened to me in recent years. Prosecution is always an option, of course, but—gosh, what a drag. Still, you can’t let people get away with things because otherwise they have no incentive to stop.

I guess this post is about the unwanted and overweening presence of Hermes, the trickster, who has appeared and reappeared in various forms in my life and is one of the reasons why Hestia has such an appeal for me right now—Hestia being somewhat the opposite of Hermes. That’s probably why the sight of a simple pitcher could stop me in my tracks: an object purporting to be nothing but itself and hearkening to be filled with iced tea or lemonade and placed on a summer table with a vase of flowers. If I were a good Buddhist, I suppose I’d be thinking along the lines of, “The pitcher is already broken/Nothing is permanent,” but heck, I don’t even have the pitcher yet, so let me at least enjoy the idea of it whole and perfect and sitting on my table in my nonexistent house. I guess I’ll go ahead and post the picture, so you can see what I’m going on about (I have no place to put a pitcher right now, even if I bought it).

Enjoy the pitcher/picture, and if you happen to see the person who took either my charger or my cell phone, tell them I haven’t forgotten them. To everything there is a season (to quote both the Bible and the Byrds).

Worlds Collide

I know I’ve talked before about my love of HGTV but am not sure I mentioned how much I enjoy looking at not only regular homes but also tiny homes. While I suppose I’d rather live in a regular house in the long term, I can also imagine being happy in a tiny home, at least for a while. I know ya’ll have heard all about this movement, which has been fed by a widespread wish to downsize and simplify, and although some of those tiny homes can be quite pricey, living in one would certainly cut down on cleaning and maintenance. Dusting the furniture is infinitely more manageable in an oversized dollhouse than in a mansion, and washing the dishes is a breeze when you can’t have more than two plates on the table.

I have some experience with living in small spaces—from dorm rooms to a sleeping bag—and while I was horrified a few years ago at the thought of living in less than 200 square feet, I now find that laughable. Living in your car will definitely adjust your ideas of space, but even before that, I was intrigued by the idea of tiny houses purely from a design perspective. It’s the spatial equivalent of haiku: how do you get the most out of a small amount of space? How do you put in everything essential and nothing that isn’t and do it with style? You have to think through every square inch and carefully consider what you need and what you don’t. If you can make items do double duty or fold away when you’re not using them, so much the better. And you will almost certainly have to think creatively about how to accommodate ordinary tasks.

Because I work with appliances, I know that there are tiny washers and dryers that would remind you of the play kitchens you had as a child except that they actually work; you can even get a combo washer/dryer that does the work of both in a single machine. In fact, a lot of the tiny home kitchens, with their miniature sinks, quarter-size fridges, and built-in ovens, remind me of the exact toy kitchen that fascinated me as a child (I had one with a tiny sink that actually worked if you put water in the tray in back). You can also place a fully functioning bathroom in a space the size of a small shower stall, albeit what you have is basically a bathroom inside a shower. There is something about the idea of miniaturizing things that is intriguing in and of itself. (Ever noticed how difficult it is to walk by an elaborately furnished dollhouse without looking inside? It’s ourselves, writ small. Why is that so interesting?)

Beyond all that, I just find the thought of living in a tiny home cozy—I’ve never been one for big, drafty houses. Of course, I’m imagining doing all of this by myself. If you were to try to share a tiny home with a partner or a family, I’m sure the lack of space could become an irritation very, very quickly. I understand that many people who’ve attempted the tiny house experiment have found it didn’t work for them and ended up going back to more conventional housing. I imagine it’s usually the lack of privacy and personal space that does it.

All of this shows what a preoccupation with Hestia concerns I have right now, which is not at all surprising given the circumstances. I fantasize about houses all the time, how I would furnish them, what colors I would use, where I would plant the flowers. With all of the Game of Thrones ruckus going on, I thought it might be a good idea to turn my attention to something else for this week’s post, scaling down, as it were, from the big picture to the small, from the epic to the domestic. Sometimes these things get mixed up with each other: early this morning, I dreamed I had moved into a compact, modern apartment that had lofted sleeping spaces and then realized Jaime Lannister was my roommate. We were looking out the window together when I woke up, still in my car.

Yes, folks, there are times when morning comes a little too soon. The only thing to do then is to head over to the coffeehouse for hot tea, banana bread, and blogging. Which I have done.

Celebrating the Derby with Wordplay

Q. Wordplay, have you ever been to the Kentucky Derby?
A. Yes, once, a long time ago. It’s something like a right of passage in Kentucky to attend the Derby infield festivities, and I did it back in 1981. I haven’t felt the need to do it again.
Q. Why not?
A. Lots of mud, long lines to the bathrooms, long lines to get in, heavily inebriated people everywhere, not much to do except play cards and sit around. You have to go out of your way to get over to the fence and see the horses go by. That is pretty spectacular, but it doesn’t last long. Don’t get me wrong, everyone should do it once—it’s one of those “once in a lifetime” things. It’s nothing against horses (what beautiful creatures!)—I just didn’t like the infield experience.

Q. How does one act at the Derby?
A. Not sure there are many rules in the infield. However, most people try to be creative in their hat-wearing, whether they’re in the infield or the seats. Millinery creations span the full range from comical to haute couture and can be quite stunning, in several senses of the word. I believe people tend to plan their outfits around their hats, rather than the other way around. At least, that’s my perception. As far as the rules for the gentry (the folks sitting in the boxes and reserved seats), you’ll have to ask someone else.

Q. What does one eat on Derby Day?
A. There are certain Kentucky specialties you can expect to see on most tables—ham and biscuits, May Day pie, grits casseroles. A Kentucky specialty that originated at the Brown Hotel in Louisville is the Hot Brown, an open-faced sandwich with a Mornay sauce. There are many variations on making it, but as far as I know, the original recipe uses turkey and not ham, bacon, and some of the other things that are sometimes added. It’s delicious and has about a million calories.
Q. What’s a May Day pie?
A. There is controversy about the name “Derby Pie,” which is copyrighted by Kern’s Bakery. It’s often used as a generic reference to the pie that has become associated with the Kentucky Derby, so they had to find another name for it, and the one I’ve heard most often is May Day pie.
Q. What’s in it?
A. It’s like a transparent pie (a chess pie) with nuts and chocolate chips.

Q. What does one drink on Derby Day?
A. Mint juleps, no question. These are made with bourbon, ice, sugar, and mint. Ideally, you sip them from a julep cup sporting a sprig of mint; your goal is to sip in a sophisticated enough manner to keep the mint sprig from getting tangled up in your millinery couture.
Q. Do you personally like juleps?
A. No, I confess I don’t. I had one at the Derby that year and thought it tasted like something you’d put on your lawn to kill weeds. I don’t like the combination of mint and bourbon and would propose something that tastes better for an official drink if asked, something like a Kentucky Mule. But that’s never going to happen.
Q. Why not?
A. Tradition.
Q. “F@&#!* tradition.”
A. Have you been watching Game of Thrones?
Q. Yes.
A. Have you noticed how similar the GOT logo looks to this year’s Kentucky Derby logo?
Q. No, I admit that escaped my attention.
A. And (speaking as a mythologist) they both resemble the lyre of Orpheus. I just noticed this myself.  See?

Q. Yes, I do see.

Q. How do you pick a horse to bet on?
A. I’m not the best person to ask, but I’ll tell you my system. I pick a name I like and then check the odds. If it looks like a decent payoff if the horse wins, great. If it doesn’t, I might pick another name. This is especially true if no single name jumps out at me. Sometimes, I just fall in love with a name, like Smarty Jones, and go for it despite the odds. Of course, the last time I even went to a race was about 17 years ago, and the most I ever won was about $7. Usually, when I pick a horse, it’s just for the fun of it—I have no money on it.

Q. If I get invited to a Derby Party, what would an appropriate hostess gift be?
A. Well, I’ve been told I give good gifts, so I may be able to help you here. Useful gifts are always welcome, so why not take a hint from an official Kentucky Derby gifts website and consider something like these little hand soaps made with actual frankincense and myrrh? A Biblical theme will get you points with many hostesses here in the Bible Belt, but if your host or hostess doesn’t roll in that direction, you could take them a bottle of their favorite wine or perhaps an inexpensive kitchen gadget, like a cheese knife or a set of kitchen towels. By the way, here’s a picture of the soap.

Q. Oh, wow, you weren’t kidding.

Q. Is there any mythological reference connected to the Derby that I should be able to drop if I get invited to a cocktail party or someplace like that?
A. Well, there is the traditional Pegasus Parade in Louisville as part of the Derby festivities, and as you know, Pegasus was a winged horse in Greek mythology. A very nice image for the power of the horse.
Q. Pegasus, wow, that’s so cool! A horse with wings—like an angel, right?
A. Just remember: horses are real. Winged horses are not. Some people get confused about this.
Q. You mean . . . There aren’t any winged horses?
A. No. Sorry. But that hostess soap is real.