Australia – Writing Between the Lines

The Art of Work

Imagine a world without art and artists.

They help us see the world through different eyes.

And artisans infuse our everyday lives with beauty.

Works of art come in many disciplines.

And on many scales…

…some more grand than others.

My artist sister Constance’s painting, “The Poet”, celebrates the literary art of poetry through her visual art.

But I have great appreciation for people who would never consider themselves artists, and yet they make an art of work.

Some apply exceptional creativity to their work, like this fellow who rigged a bicycle to power a sugar cane juicer, to crank out a little work of art one cup at a time.

Some turn an ordinary business into something with a very personal touch.

In Ireland, I was moved by the gravestone of a man lovingly remembered for his gift of turning his work into an art.

Be it traditional…

…entrepreneurial…

…fleeting…

…or a treasured heirloom…

…art is all around us, and everyone is an artist in his or her own way, whether practicing with a paintbrush, chisel, camera, wooden spoon, plow, or scissors.

Art is in the eye of the beholder.

Also on the tongue…

…in the ear…

…the nose…

…the heart…

and the mind.

Whatever you do, wherever you go, party arty!

All images and words c2014Naomi Baltuck.

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Travel Theme: Industry.

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Photo Challenge: Work of Art.

Proud Mom of a Starfleet Cadet

Last month we attended Sue and Rick’s White Elephant party. Remember Sue?

Everyone brought a wrapped “White Elephant,” something new or used to pass on. We drew numbers, with number one picking a gift and unwrapping it. The next person could choose an unopened gift or lay claim to someone’s opened gift. But a gift couldn’t change hands more than three times.

I’ve always been a Trek Geek so in my opinion, the best prize was an email address “@ starfleet.com,”and that’s even before I realized it was the gift that would keep on giving. It was snatched twice by Star Trek officianados, AKA Trekkers. When my daughter Bea’s turn came, she commandeered the Starfleet address and no one could take it from her, as she was the third to claim it. At the holiday’s end, she returned to school.

Soon after, I received my first email from my cadet at Starfleet Academy. She had enlisted!

Dear Mom and Dad,

I just wanted you to know that I have settled into my dorm room and all is well. My roommate is an Aaamazzarite. It is a little awkward between us still because I can’t pronounce the name of her species. On the bright side, however, Aaamazzarites are hairless, so vacuuming is quite easy. It’s better than last year, when I roomed with that girl from Sigma Iotia II. She kept trying to extract protection money from me and teach me some weird game called “bizz fin.”

I started classes yesterday. I’m pretty excited for Andorian Early Empires, though there is only one other person in the class, and he’s…well…Andorian. Wish me luck. I’m also in Xenolinguistics, Intelligently Fudging Incident Reports (which, legend has it, Kirk got an A+ in), and the Starfleet Graphic Novel Project, which follows the struggles of 13 female Starfleet captains back when sexism was still a thing.

I also made a couple of friends. One of them is a fellow student of xenobiology. We’re both interested in extraterrestrial ecology. He seems pretty fun, although he’s strangely obsessed with mustaches. The other guy is a Ferengi. He talks really quickly and likes juggling gold-pressed latinum. Unfortunately for him, he is very good at juggling but has no latinum to juggle. He plays the Vulcan lute surprisingly well.

Anyways, I’ll let you know how things go. I love you and miss you!

xoxo,

Bea

Upon reflection, Bea at Starfleet Academy made perfect sense. She was always keen to explore strange new worlds…

–especially her own little world.

I recalled the voyages of the star child Beatrice.

Her ongoing mission…

…to seek out new life…

…and new civilizations.

Rife with pirates…

…cannibals…

…and pink fuzzy brainsucking creatures.

From the tiny…

…to the towering.

And at great personal risk…

…To boldly go…

…where no man has gone before.

She is well qualified. A Starfleet cadet needs to be flexible.

She always manages to bounce back…

…blend in with the locals…

…and keep her head.

We can hardly wait to beam down to the Academy in San Francisco to check out her new Starfleet digs.

Barring any transporter accidents…

…which can get SO messy.

We’ll tell you all about it. In the meantime…

Dear Bea,

It’s good to know you are all settled into your dorm. Life goes on, but it isn’t the same without you. To cheer ourselves up in our Empty Nest, Dad and I took a short trip to Risa. When they say what happens at Risa stays at Risa, they aren’t kidding. He left six bars of gold pressed latinum at the Dabbo tables. It’s lucky I’m such a cheap date. All I needed was a l’il sippy cup of Romulan Ale, and a few hours in the Holo Suite. I like that program about The Battle of Hastings, only I programmed it so that King Harold Godwinson could kick William the Conqueror’s ass right back to Normandy.

The bad news is that we asked Grandma to take care of your pet tribble, Odysseus, while we were gone. Unfortunately, Grandma forgot she wasn’t supposed to feed it. By the time we got home, five days later, there were eight generations of tribbles crammed into the cage, and they had all died of suffocation. We put them in stasis and can have the funerals—228 of them–when you come home for spring break. Maybe we can get you a nice Cardassian Vole.

Don’t turn your back on that Ferengi, and don’t get killed!

Love,

Mom and Dad

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Travel Theme: Letters

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Photo Challenge: Justaposition

The Farmer’s Daughter!

An old story begins when a poor farmer’s mare gives birth in the village marketplace…

The frightened newborn took shelter under a rich man’s wagon, and the rich man claimed the foal as his own. The young burgermeister was inexperienced, and did not want to displease the rich man. To settle the dispute, he told the two men to return the next day with answers to three riddles; the one with the best answers would be awarded the foal. Surely the rich man could outfox an old peasant, and the matter would be done.

“What is the richest thing in the world?” asked the burgermeister. “What is the swiftest thing in the world? And what is the sweetest thing in the world?”

The farmer was distressed. He didn’t know the answers, and he couldn’t afford to lose the foal. But his daughter was very clever.

“Don’t worry, Papa. Here’s what you must say…”

The next day, the rich man puffed out his chest and said, “The swiftest thing in the world is my coach and pair, for no other horse or wagon ever passes me on the road.”

The richest thing is the gold in my treasure chest, for am I not the richest man in the village? And the sweetest thing is cakes made with honey from my own hives.”

“Mmm,” said the burgermeister, turning to the farmer. “And have you answers to my riddles, old man?”

“Yes,” said the farmer. “The richest thing in the world is the earth, for do not all riches come from the earth?”

“The swiftest thing in the world is thought.

For a thought can travel to the ends of the earth and back again…

…in the blink of an eye.”

“And the sweetest thing in the world is sleep. For when one is sad or tired, what can be sweeter?”

The mayor had no choice but to award the foal to the farmer. “But you didn’t think of those answers yourself. Tell me who helped you.”

The farmer confessed that his daughter had solved the riddles for him. The burgermeister was impressed and intrigued. He asked to meet the farmer’s daughter.

But that is a story for another day…

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Travel Theme: Sweet.

Checkmate

Let me tell you about my husband Thom. We’ve been married for thirty years, and he was the catch of a lifetime.

He was a kindergarten teacher, and courted me by reading his favorite picture books to me. I should have known he was destined to become a librarian, but I always knew he would be a good Daddy.

First to one…

…and then two.

Nothing could faze him–not even a Universal Bad Hair Day.

And he had tough shoes to fill.

I had a daunting checklist. The father of my children had to be intelligent (check), compassionate (check), responsible (check), a man of integrity (check) and possessed of patience, LOTS of patience (CHECK!). In fact, my mother always said it would take someone with the patience of kindergarten teacher to manage me, not to mention the children. But most of all, he couldn’t be afraid to get his feet wet.

Or to dress up and play pretend.

Or to know when to relax and put up his feet.

He has clearly been a good influence on the children.

He taught them everything he knows.

He helped introduce them to that wide world out there.

And all its wonders.

Big…

…and little.

From Australia….

…to (New) Zealand.

Past…

…and present.

With good humor…

…great teamwork…

…and dignity…

…always dignity!

Someone ought to raise a statue in his honor.

But I know he’ll settle for chocolate…

Happy Father’s Day, Thom! Thanks for EVERYTHING!

Who Turned on the Lights?

People find the light in their life in so many ways and places. It can be as easy as turning on a switch.

Some find all the light they need in a sunset…

…or a moonrise.

Others find illumination in a church…

…a synagogue…

…a mosque…

…or a library.

Sacred is a place that lights up your heart.

It isn’t always easy to find…

Some look for it in food…

…at the bottom of a wine glass…

…or through yoga.

Some light up with the joy and anticipation of adventure.

And what constitutes an adventure is very personal.

Sometimes light comes from the joy of creation in all of its many forms…

Everyone’s light shines through differently. To each his own.

For me, love shines brightest of all.

It’s our life’s work and pleasure to follow the light…

…or to make our own.

It is there.

All words and images copyright Naomi Baltuck.

Click here for more interpretations of The Weekly Photo Challenge: Shine.

When We Come to It

So many bridges.

Bridges of concrete…

…iron…

…and steel.

Ancient ones of stone…

…brick…

…mortar….

…and wood.

Some are famous…

…celebrated in story…

…and song.

Some draw pilgrims from all over the world.

So different…

…yet they serve the same purpose.

To span distance…

…to connect…

…to deliver us from troubled waters.

There’s an old saying…it is better to build bridges than walls.

Click here for more interpretations of Nancy Merrill’s Photo a Week: Bridges.

Click here for more interpretations of Jake’s Sunday Post: Bridges.

Click here for more interpretations of Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Bridges.

Click here for more interpretations of Ailsa’s Weekly Travel Theme: Bridges.

All images and words c2013 Naomi Baltuck

No Such Thing As An Odd Couple

Couples come in all shapes and sizes. They always have, since the beginning of time.

Life is short, and often cruel. Finding true love, or even a true friend is not just a comfort.

It’s a miracle.

But I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. True love happens.

It is easy to recognize when you see it.

Love…

..in all its many forms…

..is a gift to us all. It fills the world with light.

Let it shine!

Click here for more interpretations of the Weekly Photo Challenge: Partners.

For more interpretations of The Weekly Travel Theme: Friendship.