Mad Men??

I watched my first episode last night. Having heard non-stop positive chatter about it, I had to see what all the fuss was. I don't get it!

Yes, the clothes are cool. The vintage 'look' is great. The main character is incredibly handsome. The cool nonchalance of it all; the roomy pauses and significant looks. All true. But the story? I don't get it. I couldn't find one.

I'm sure there is more to it, all I got out of it was that the style of it all overshadowed the substance. Philandering husband, catty secretaries, competitive coworkers and a devious boss? That's it? Surely an afternoon soap opera contains the same. Isn't the saying 'form follows function'? This seems all form. Style. Hip, because none of the fan base is old enough to remember the reality that existed apart from the impeccable suits and business trips?

I am so uncool.

Saturday bliss

It's cold and overcast. The boys are all in their pajamas/sweats, laying on the couches watching Star Wars (for the 1902929th time) with the baby. Trying to explain to the 2 year old who Chewy is. They've quietly made lightsabers out of baby toys while they watch. All three, playing quietly while they watch...red, blue, and green lightsabers.

Joy.

The Growth of the Soil, Hamsun

I just finished this epic novel last night. Beyond amazing. Hamsun's work is so simple and straightforward, but then it reveals these unexpected complexities that make you pause. His characters are so vivid that I began imagining them as real people that I know. I found myself thinking of Oline while I did dishes, irritated at her big mouth. And any time Barbro entered a scene I groaned out loud. Layers. Just so many layers to these characters that make them real. Inger is so hard to describe that Hamsun's simple description is the only one that makes sense: "a strong woman full of weakness".

The book is basically a love affair with the earth, given the few people in this unbroken part of Norway that makes up the setting. Their lives revolve around earth and sky and seasons. Simple work, simple food. They don't spend time analyzing why they are unhappy or seeking remedy for their bad childhoods. They live forward, moving ahead.

Again, I had to try and control my isolation inclination as I read this. When they finally get other settlers up near Sellenara, inwardly I cringed because I'm thinking, what? Neighbors? Sheesh. Get rid of them! Make them move! And yet these people were happy for the company. I am so anti-social when I think living in the wilds with 8 other people within 10 miles is too much!

This also was a very peaceful book. It had tension and action and sadness and pain, but overall it felt calming and restful to read it and imagine this kind of life.

The Lost Art of Reading, LA Times article

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/arts/la-ca-reading9-2009aug09,0,4905017.story

Great article by David L. Ulin that sums up why so few people read these days. The only thing I would add is that many times kids are pushed to read for information rather than pleasure, so it becomes a chore. Few people have been taught to enjoy the journey rather than just the destination.

Excerpt:
So what happened? It isn't a failure of desire so much as one of will. Or not will, exactly, but focus: the ability to still my mind long enough to inhabit someone else's world, and to let that someone else inhabit mine. Reading is an act of contemplation, perhaps the only act in which we allow ourselves to merge with the consciousness of another human being. We possess the books we read, animating the waiting stillness of their language, but they possess us also, filling us with thoughts and observations, asking us to make them part of ourselves. This is what Conroy was hinting at in his account of adolescence, the way books enlarge us by giving direct access to experiences not our own. In order for this to work, however, we need a certain type of silence, an ability to filter out the noise.

Such a state is increasingly elusive in our over-networked culture, in which every rumor and mundanity is blogged and tweeted. Today, it seems it is not contemplation we seek but an odd sort of distraction masquerading as being in the know. Why? Because of the illusion that illumination is based on speed, that it is more important to react than to think, that we live in a culture in which something is attached to every bit of time.

...What I'm struggling with is the encroachment of the buzz, the sense that there is something out there that merits my attention, when in fact it's mostly just a series of disconnected riffs and fragments that add up to the anxiety of the age.

Sucker

The business of learning to write? Did Hemingway have research texts on how to build a character? Did Hamsun need help with his plot? I think not. But then again, did they have Amazon?

True compulsive procrastinator that I am, I went looking on Amazon for some suggested titles from another blog on better writing skills. I justified it as needing to improve my work, and who could argue with that? I tried and evaded the entire argument by clicking on more. Before I could listen to my rational self my shopping cart had gobbled up:

"Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them (P.S.)"
"The Plot Thickens: 8 Ways to Bring Fiction to Life"Noah Lukeman;
"Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life"Anne Lamott;
"The Art of Fiction: Notes on Craft for Young Writers"John Gardner
"The First Five Pages: A Writer's Guide to Staying Out of the Rejection Pile"Noah Lukeman; "On Writing"Stephen King
"Plot & Structure: (Techniques And Exercises For Crafting A Plot That Grips Readers From Start To Finish) (Write Great Fiction)"James Scott Bell

(the messy text was from cut and paste, I was too lazy to retype).

So this begs the question, why? When will I write if I am reading these? Are they going to distract me from my original ideas? I know I need tons of work, just doing my own editing has shown me how my writing needs to be more concise and clear. But I have buyer's remorse, and feel dumb for spending the money and the time. There were actually more in my cart that I weeded out. So much for that. Dumb dumb dumb.

One interesting discovery was Amazon Shorts; Noah Lukeman had a 26 page Short on paragraph sections and breaks. Kind of neat.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Crazy Day

My head is aching. Too many hours at the computer today.

-------------------------------

I spent several hours today trying to select excerpts of my "novel" to have edited. I was amazed at how I was able to edit out tons of unnecessary words on my own. One section started at 490 words and I got it to 249. It's hard when you are a wordy birdy! Now it will be edited more by a professional and hopefully become crisper and stronger. It's difficult but at the same time strangely satisfying. It makes my pathetic attempt at writing seem more real. See that? Psycho-babble experts would say that I am always mocking my efforts at writing to hide my fears of rejection, somehow preempting any criticism of it before it ever happens. Maybe. I don't have much confidence in my writing except when I read crap like "P.S. I Love You" by Ahern and realize I can't possibly be THAT bad! That one made my teeth hurt.

I do know that I use certain phrases way too much: such as "way too", "always", "so", "really","anyway", and "she (or he) felt". Must work on that.

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Today my oldest son turned 20. Wow. No longer a teenager, though he really hasn't been much of a teenager since he was 16. He grew up too fast, partly due to matters beyond his control and his own personality. It is difficult to learn to treat him as an adult and stop bossing him around, while still maintaining some sort of parental image. He's a good egg though, on the cover of the college course catalog!

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Then there was the community college hassle that we endure EVERY semester. Middle child has been going to the local CC since his freshman year, part time. This year he's a high school junior, and all the registration and admission requirements have changed, and there are less courses offered with more students enrolling. So we had a stressful afternoon finding courses that fit his interests, his schedule, and that were still open. Since he's a high school student he has to jump through extra hoops and complete more ridiculous paperwork, even though he's already in their system. It's only half over, tomorrow we go and try and make all this 'official' at the walk-in registration. I deserve a martini at lunch.

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Now I have a hot date with Tylenol PM.

The significance of running out of shampoo!

Okay, no significance, right?

BIG DEAL to me. I've spent the last few months, actually well into last year, trying to use up all those items I've stockpiled over the years. Back when I had more disposable income (as in, was not broke!) I would stock up on just about anything if it was on sale. I had one cabinet filled up with all sorts of bottles of personal care goo: shampoos, body washes, scented lotions, bars of soap.

Then there was the cabinet of vitamins, supplements, etc. Three bottles of Motrin and tons of cough medicine in still sticky bottles, all half empty, just making a mess.

So, I dumped what I could and have diligently been using up the rest. For some bizarro reason, which I can't quite ascertain yet, I feel better having less. Not that I'm giving up soap or shampoo, but I just find that the excess was unnecessary and not really comforting. What was I stocking up for? Was Target going to go under? Of course, they tell you to stock up, it is supposed to save money. But I always over-did it, grabbing stuff all the time. Some weird sort of anxiety/hoarding instinct? Did having 20 bars of soap equal security?

Somehow the idea of having an actual need, shampoo, is neat and weird. I've never, ever ran out before. But how much do we buy of anything is an actual need? The purpose of actually needing to go purchase a specific item, how often does that happen?

Now the cabinets are nearly empty, but clean. The open space is soothing.

Luis Sotemeyer photo

Genius! I'm weeping with jealousy!

So I'm about 40 pages into GROWTH OF THE SOIL by Knut Hamsun and I can barely stand it, it's so good. Thing is, he keeps foreshadowing terrible things happening, and then they don't happen, but instead of feeling all relieved I am actually in agony now knowing something really bad is going to happen. His writing is amazing. There was a good reason for this getting the Nobel Prize in 1920. I liked HUNGER as well, but Tales of Love and Loss, not so much.

The desire to hide and continue reading it appeals to me, but I like the people and the place so much I don't want anything tragic to happen. He has pages and pages just on setting up a house and the little details (we bought a clock! woo hoo!), and somehow it reminds me of being a little girl and reading the Laura Ingalls Wilder's book when she married Allonzo (was that his name??) and it described her kitchen, the bins of flour and sugar and all those tiny details that I adored. Neat and orderly. Simple.

A Perfect Day?

What would be the elements of my perfect day? Yours? So many worries would have to be dealt with first, but here's an estimate:

First, most crucial, the kids are healthy and well, located somewhere else, each with their own personal EMT and protector as well as my parents (might as well get everyone out of my hair!).
That leaves an empty house. Empty house is clean (spotlessly!!!!) except for an Amazon.com box filled with two new Tim Winton novels. Kitchen is stocked with AkMak crackers, hummus, yerba mate tea, and a Thai Chicken pizza for later. Weather is warm but not hot. Slight breeze. The scale says "Ideal".

My gorgeous ginger cat Rico is actually friendly and sociable, rather than his usual sullen demeanor. The dogs also went somewhere, so no barking is heard. TIVO has a unseen Law & Order on hold for me, as well as an episode or two of In Treatment, if I need a break from the books. My Internet is screaming fast in case I want to go online.

No, wait! The pizza must be delivered, so that the opportunity exists for Viggo Mortensen to deliver it (he's really getting into the research for a future role as a misunderstood, sociopathic, poet-pesto-pizza driver). He expresses genuine interest in my yard and my as-yet unpublished novel. Actually, it really doesn't matter if his interest is genuine or not, is it? He IS an actor, so I don't care if he's faking it.

I'll end it there, except to add that Cherry Almond Fudge ice cream will be devoured later, and the mail will deliver an acceptance letter and massive advance for my book.

Modern Poetry...STUCK in my head

Is There Life on Mars? ...Sir David Bowie 1972

It's a God awful small affair
To the girl with the mousey hair
But her mummy is yelling, "No!"
And her daddy has told her to go

But her friend is no where to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seat with the clearest view
And she's hooked to the silver screen
But the film is a sadd'ning bore
For she's lived it ten times or more
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on

Sailors
Fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man!Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show

Is there life on Mars?

It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns

But the film is a sadd'ning bore
'Cause I wrote it ten times or more
It's about to be writ again
As I ask you to focus on

Sailors
Fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man!Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show

Is there life on Mars?

Sad note: my teen sons only cultural reference to David Bowie was when I mentioned he was in Zoolander. Oh. So, so sad. I LOVE LOVE LOVE this song. It's on continuous loop on Itunes right now. It was in one of my favorite movies "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" by my favorite director Wes Anderson. And honestly, can anyone pull off blue eyeshadow like Bowie???

Just a Troubled Ant

Why is it that stargazing appears to be the domain of the depressed or the introspective? How often do you hear of a jolly person pondering the rotation of the stars, or imagining all the sights that the Moon above has looked upon down here below?

I sat out an hour tonight, and even saw a shooting star. My glass of wine did nothing to make matters seem more cheerful. Usually looking at beauty or feeling awe is inspiring; somehow the stars above seem to be telling me how ridiculous I am and how meaningless my problems are. That may not be a bad thing.

I spent awhile looking at the Big Dipper, trying to figure out how "Follow the Drinking Gourd" was helpful in any way to escaping slaves. How frightening to put your reliance and future hopes on something so impossibly far.

And yet, it feels like I'm doing the same thing every day. Hoping. Wishing. Imagining changes that may never take place. How many suffering through the Crusades looked at those stars, hoping their loved ones were safe? How many prisoners in Dachua looked up through the ashy skies to the stars and moon? Did they feel awe, beauty, or confusion? Was the sight a comfort and balm or a stab in the heart?

Tender is the Night by Fitzgerald

The Rejection Letter that Should Have Been!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear F. Scott,


I'm giving up. I know you are a classic. Gatsby and all that. But truly, this novel is obnoxious. I dislike each and every character, and I hope they all end up in the Seine. I don't care enough to hate them. They are trivial, dull, and flat. The dialogue is unreal. Nobody talks that way.

Everyone is rich and has all that vacation time? Nobody takes taxis like that. Even the wealthy walk, sometimes.

And names? Dick Divers? Seriously? I'm just saying...

I can't finish your book. Maybe something revelatory will happen, but I'll miss it. I'll try to live without it. Maybe if I didn't keep hearing Jackson Browne singing everytime I see the title I would be more positive. "The benediction of the neon lights?"

Regards,

Paralysis by Analysis

I'd love to credit that title to its proper author but I have no idea where I heard it.

It describes me perfectly. When I was actively designing, I'd find myself straightening my desk, aligning my icons, sharpening pencils, just generally putting it all off. Even though I was interested in the project, I had this immense hesitation. Too many times the actual work too far less time than I had projected: I had wasted so much worry and procrastinated so long that I could have been done and moving on to the next project. I knew that, but did it anyway, project after project.

Sometimes the time drain was more sneaky: I'd decide I needed more research on a period style, or even locate the specifications on an oddball item, just to be "thorough". That was just an excuse though, to delay the actual design work. Strangely enough, I do the same thing when I need to balance my checkbook: I'd decide I need to straighten the bills, organize them in labelled file folders, log them into Excel (you get the picture). Everything but actually balancing the checkbook.

So now, my current paralysis is on research. I'm working on a novel.

(Pausing here so you can chuckle to yourself. Go on. I know. Feel free.)

(Done?)

I want my novel to be accurate. It takes place in the U.S. but mostly in the U.K. Some actual historic events are referred to, and then there's the action of my characters. Problem is, I find myself digging into the research too much and writing too little. I purchased books on, no joke, the wildlife of Northern England (my setting), birds of the British Isles, plants and grasses of England, "Brit-speak", medieval warfare, walks of the Lake District, hiking paths of Northern England, actual road maps, Icelandic history, Reykjavik scenery, the history of the Long-Bow, etc etc etc. Add to that the books I've purchased on learning to write, and so far Amazon is the only one getting anywhere with this.

So how much is actually necessary? Do I need real street names to make it seem authentic? Does the reader really need to know (or care) about all those little things? I have no idea. I know in my own reading I love all the little details (you know me and my Winton!). Does detailed equal boring? How do I get past this?

I need to go balance the checkbook.

The Sun Also Rises-Hemingway

This is considered one of the 100 greatest novels of all time, yet I missed it in my years of book lust. I once tried to read it last year, but got bogged down and gave up. This time I dug in and tried to focus. My impetus was reading another blog that asked 'what book setting would you love to live in?' and this book was the overwhelming favorite.

Keyword: alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Wine, beer, pernod, absinthe, martinis, more wine. These people drank ALL the time, from noon till midnight. Copious amounts of everything. It made me wonder if a bottle of wine was smaller in the 1920's than now, simply because I can't imagine two people putting away four bottles of wine at lunch and still being able to stand.

The story is of the 'lost generation' of expatriots living in Paris in the 20's, and several of them were WWI vets. There seemed to be no purpose to their life other than to eat, drink, and be merry. Money didn't seem to be a factor, these people were living large and leisurely. I could see why some thought Hemingway was anti-Semitic; his description of one character, Robert Cohn, implied a personal prejudice by Hemingway. But perhaps that was more indicative of that time period? Not sure.

Anyway, Jacob Barnes has a war injury that makes him unable to consummate his feelings toward Lady Brett Ashley. She passes on a relationship with him for that reason, despite her clear affection for him. So he's left to be a bystander while she flirts and sleeps around with all of his friends. In the end, they are simply left with each other, as friends. Sad, and empty. Like much of their lives.

I had to laugh at one aside that Hemingway makes: he spent pages describing the road to one town, and while the character visits a bookie, the author remarks on his bookmaking and says "but that's not part of the story". I had to laugh out loud, as so much was in this that seemed irrelevant, pages and pages of descriptions of dust and roads and people, and yet he mentioned that one piece of information as inconsequential.

Byrd and Melanie Billings

Today I am in such a funk over the murder of Byrd and Melanie Billings of Florida. Somehow this injustice and horror seemed to reach me more than others, as desensitized as many of us are who see this violence all the time streaming on CNN.

For me, the sheer shock of a home invasion simply makes no sense. Why them?

I actually feel pain for all the children they took in, mostly special needs children who had been institutionalized or lost in the system due to their disabilities, who found a loving home with this couple who opened their hearts to them. In some cases, it was the only 'home' they knew, the only one on one human contact they'd experienced in their short lives. This couple was wealthy, and rather than send checks to their charity of choice, they put that wealth to taking in and giving these children the best they could offer. Can you imagine how it felt for these kids to have someone look them in the eye, hug them, talk to them, and be interested in them? Even if it was just the quality of human touch, what an incredible gift to have given.

My heart hurts. One saving note, the children were not hurt (physically).

Uighur woman

Barely out of her childhood, this young woman ventures out in Uighur, Xinjiang Province, in China where unrest has been heavy this week.

I don't know why this photo speaks to me, something about that little hand reaching towards her face, with his cheek to hers. It's obvious she's concerned and protecting her baby, and I'm wondering what made her venture out into the danger.

BTW, the LA Times has a feature called "The Day in Pictures" where I found this, and it's really a neat grouping to look at each day, some happy, some sad, some scary.

Frightening News: It Could Happen to You!

Woman Goes Completely Insane from Allergy to Home and Family


(AP) NIPOMO, CA Authorities in California have confirmed that a long time Nipomo resident has gone completely out of her mind due to prolonged exposure to her own residence and to members of her immediate family. Their investigation is ongoing. Here is what is known:

The insanity began when a number of illnesses invaded the home: chicken pox and a virus to one child, as well as a viral flu to her husband and a case of shingles to her father. One dog had fleas and one cat had a nasty cough. Apparently, close proximity to these individuals and dutiful cleaning up of vomit, snot, hairballs, and other disgusting things led to the slow but certain demise of the victim, age 40 going on 70.

Her symptoms became manifest after family members noticed that the spices were alphabetized, the house was clean, and no cobwebs hung from the chandelier, clearly a sign of an impending breakdown. She apparently began speaking randomly of royalty, specifically a “King Julian” and started referring to family members as Skipper, Rico, Private and Kowalski. She banged her head against the wall and yelled “I am an otter failure”.

She was checking her email obsessively, apparently hungry, because she kept repeating “I’d even take some Spam”. She was also heard having long, involved conversations with her cat regarding his unethical and inhumane practice of catching birds.

Oscar nominated actor Viggo Mortensen confirmed the diagnosis when he visited, with the intention of stealing her away. “I promised to take her out of her sad, Cinderella life, and offered her my undying love. See, I have a thing for flabby arms and double chins,” he admitted. She offered a number of reasons she couldn’t possibly leave with him, most disturbingly her quote “I just want to walk around Target for an hour!”

Neighbors report her being especially interested in conversation with them, inquiring about their day, their health, their pet’s health, the health of their pet’s ancestors, even asking one neighbor to name all the dogs he’s ever had. Another neighbor, borrowing a cup of sugar, was held hostage for hours by said crazy woman, who riddled her with questions regarding whether or not the 101 freeway still went both directions, if McDonald’s still made French fries, and if there was any news in the world besides the death of Michael Jackson.

When the police checked in on her, she mentioned that she knew much of “the force” by listing the names of various officers in Fresno, Dallas, Miami, and Las Vegas due to her diligent watching of COPS. Lack of reading material had taken a toll on her, as she informed officers that if you read a back issue of Time backwards, it becomes People magazine.

Authorities are unclear at this point how to handle the situation. One local doctor suggested a forced visit to a major mall that featured a Starbucks, a movie theatre, a bookstore and a Nordstrom’s could in fact reverse her symptoms. We will keep you updated as developments occur.

Oriole Family!

The picture doesn't do this handsome guy justice, but it gives you a glimpse of Daddy Oriole who is living in my oak tree. Yes, he's taken, Mrs. Oriole is often sharing the feeder with him. Best of all, they have at least one baby, a little fluff of yellow that has made his way to the feeder twice. They are enjoying the hummingbird juice as well as some Valencia oranges. Their yellow is neon and gorgeous!

I saw him posing dramatically on the pergola rafters, thinking him vain, but now I realize he was probably keeping an eye out for predators. Obviously, I'm not getting out much but with this wildlife I don't mind.

But this time, it's NOT me!

Everyone has had one of those days where everything goes wrong, when all wires are crossed and nothing works. Usually when it happens to me, after endless headbanging and frustration, I realize that maybe it's me. Maybe all the things going wrong go back to me and my attitude, bad mood, lack of sleep. When everyone is annoying me, including the cat, it really is me. Sad.

But yesterday, I was in a fantastic mood! Great mood. All was well in my world. So while I fought with Pacificare, tried to communicate with Geico and Allstate, as well as pay bills and balance my checking account I kept that in mind while it all went horribly wrong. Because I knew, this time, it wasn't me. It was THEM. I had a gorgeous sunny day outside with a great night's sleep. No excuse to let Geico, Pacificare and Allstate off the hook for their behavior.

Why can't I call and speak to a human? Why do I have to log every conversation with them because they WILL screw it up? I have to have a confirmation number for everything, as well as the person I spoke with, because I know that it's just a matter of time before I have to do it all over again. And why is it that when you want to speak to a person they keep directing you to the website? My own insurance agent directed me to Allstate's website to fix the problem myself, to which I could barely resist asking 'so what do I have you for?" Why are some businesses so incompetent that I wish I could just reach through the phone and do the transaction myself?

Child 1 had the same problem with Fandango, trying to buy movie tickets. The automated line wouldn't work, so he finally said at one of the auto prompts, 'get me a damn person!' and then was promptly hung up on.

Harvest time

My favorite tree in the yard: canning this week!

More Chihuly....gorgeous

Chihuly.com, go to "glass" and then to "seaforms"...this is from the loop 1 section. Wow.

Gorgeous Glass

Dale Chihuly blown glass

chihuly.com

The site has amazing works...

Tasmania Window

Skilled workers and artisans needed!

Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work by Matthew B. Crawford.

This book was just released in May and it's fascinating. It espouses the return to good ol' manual labor! The author's conjecture: he likes to work on motorcycles and feels good when he does. But he takes that further and shows new studies regarding work that are surprising, especially considering what mainstream beliefs have been regarding blue collar work.

He finds in his own work, as well as informal study and in tremendous research that hands-on workers, such as plumbers, painters, mechanics, and builders report more job satisfaction than a white collar, 'stuck in front of a computer monitor' executive. And, even more interesting is that in most cases, these workers end up making more money too, and their jobs are less fragile in a bad economic downturn. Common sense really, as we will get our toilets fixed and our cars running even if we are broke!

The author has nothing against higher education, but he points out that most guidance counselors push students into colleges with loftier hopes than are generally realized; and in fact often sneer at students that take more humble ROP or trade classes. And he backs it all up with data that supports his belief.

He then dips even further into the mind set of a manual worker: the joy from hard work, and the ability to see a project progress right in front of them, start to finish. To start a project and finish it within a few days and realize his goals on a tactile, personal level. The ability to make decisions that directly impact his work space and work goals by being more in charge of his time and resources. He also shows that the typical "ideal" employee graph would show a worker starting at an entry level position (hands on) and then working into management and further up, yet the rate of job satisfaction decreases the higher up they rise! So the "ideal" promoted by schools and colleges needs to change.

He's not suggesting that an employee have no ambition or drive, but rather to excel in what they do and take pride in it, and not be pressed to promote himself at the expense of his craft. Even specialization, often looked upon as a negative, actually makes their work more valuable. He suggests that mechanics or other tradespeople develop within their skills even more specialized skills and focus on excellence rather than self promotion.

All in all, a fabulous read. Sort of along the lines of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, but it actually discusses more about motorcycle maintenance and about the world of a mechanics shop (camaraderie, dirty jokes and all!).