Swanning About: Recent Sewing Projects

This is a bilingual blog, first in English, then in Spanish.

Este blog es bilingüe, primero en inglés, y entonces en español. Lo hice párrafo por párrafo, y se puede ver el inglés directamente arriba para conseguir acceso a los links.  

In my third year of self-taught sewing, there are two new landmarks. The first is my beautiful new sewing machine, and the second is actually sewing garments with events in mind.Regarding the sewing machine, don't laugh, but it is what I promised myself as a reward for showing interest in garment construction for at least two years. I had to "deserve" it. This is a reward indeed, as my old machine was a freebie from an ex-violin student: an iron monster that worked, but occasionally enjoyed chewing up fabric to show me who was boss. It refused to do button holes, evidently thinking them frivolous. Since I wanted to start sewing with silk, I just had to have a new machine. Enter my lovely Bernina 380---the Swiss company's top-of-the-line "ideal sewing machine for beginners," according to the rather snooty ad copy. It's so easy to use that I frequently think I must be cheating. Here is my practice project: a set of tea napkins.

Me estoy enseñando a coser por más de dos años. Para celebrar el hecho de mantener mi interés, me regalé dos cosas: una maquina nueva y poder hacer ropa para eventos especiales. Recibí la máquina vieja de un estudiante de violín que nunca la usaba. Era un monstruo de hierro que funcionaba bien, pero de vez en cuando se divertía en destruir tela. No quiso hacer ojales. Como quería comenzar a coser con seda, una maquina nueva era una necesidad. Un gran regalo para mi, un Bernina 380, y mi primer proyecto para aprender a usarla, servilletas.

Please observe the beautiful mitered corners, another detail my old machine refused to do properly.

Favor de observar las esquinas, detalles no posibles con la máquina vieja

Next, I started on silk.I followed an online Craftsy course called "Sewing with Silk: the Liberty Shirt." The shirt was designed by Linda Lee, and is one pattern of many featured on her Sewing Workshop website. Great course! Although I am self-taught, I have the very best teachers online, who I can watch over and over again, exceedingly close up. My practice garment was a lovely lavendar synthetic, which was too big all around. I took it to the local thrift shop, after wearing it a few times.  After triumphantly adjusting the pattern to fit my narrow shoulders, I remade the shirt in a slippery crêpe de chine, and premiered it in May at the last concert of the National Chamber Ensemble.

Para aprender a coser con seda, usaba un curso en línea, cuya profesor también deseñó la blusa ejemplar. La primera blusa resultó demasiado grande, pero la segunda, un crêpe de chine, salió perfecta! Su estreno mundial era en mayo para el último concierto del National Chamber Ensemble.  

The skirt is hand-painted and made especially for me by Ana Livni of Montevideo, Uruguay. Check her out!  

La falda es pintada a mano, y hecha para mí por Ana Livni de Montevideo.

A dream of mine was to make a wild print "suit" to wear to the cinema. I used McCalls 6843 pull-on pants with pockets, and McCalls 6750 for the top. It had a couple of lunch dates, and then its big red carpet showing at the American Film Institute Documentary Film Festival 2016.

Un sueño mío era hacer un traje "salvaje" para llevar al cine. Usaba el patrón de McCalls 6843 para los pantalones, y McCalls 6750 para la blusa. Estrenó en la alfombra roja del Festival de Film Documentario del American Film Institute 2016.

On the red carpet!

My sister wears a French-style apron which I have always admired. After a long internet search ("French apron" brings up questionable garments...) I found what I was looking for at Purlsoho: a cross-back apron. I followed the online instructions twice. The first time was a practice garment, made out of my usual muslin fabric.

Mi hermana lleva un delantal estilo francés que siempre he admirado. Finalmente hallé un patrón semejante en Purlsoho, con instrucciones en línea. Mi primer intento era de muselina.

Too big! Needs to be corrected. But cute...
Demasiado grande! Hay que ajustarlo. Pero qué mono!

The second was made out of a heavyish Japanese cotton, sized smaller, and given a nicer line with a snap in the back. Its very deep pockets made it ideal for visiting the Folklife Festival on the National Mall, followed by an exhibition called "Wonder" at the Renwick Gallery---both in Washington DC.

La segunda vez usaba un cotón Japonés. Lo hice más pequeña, y ajusté la línea con un cierre. Con sus bolsillos muy hondos, era ropa perfecta para visitar un festival y un museo en Washington DC.

Can you spot a mistake I made? Many points if you can! I am posing in front of a beautiful installation made of crossing threads.

En frente de una instalación de hilos en la Renwick Gallery.

Swanning about in clothing I have made myself is a great amusement, and I'm just getting started!

Paseando en ropa hecha por mí misma es un gran entrenamiento, y apenas comienzo!

Chipmunk and Deer War

Deer are so beautiful and graceful; chipmunks are so little and cute. But this is war. Our property is surrounded by an 8-foot high deer fence, the first garden "feature" to be added in 2006. As it is ten years old, foxes, rabbits, and now deer have found a vulnerable corner to chew open or crawl under. Despite having repaired that corner twice, I watched on June 30th at 11 AM as The Doe (Jane Doe?) grazed peacefully on violets under the sumac tree, flicking her white tail in my direction. I chased her around the garden, eager to see where she would escape, and after a frenetic run, she got out---somewhere---and I didn't see it. I then spent the next 30 minutes going over every inch of fence; all of it seemed securely battened down to the earth. (She usually crawls under, as the fence is too high to scale.) Donna found a  tiny space, however, so I'll secure that. Maddening!!

Chipmunks? They dig under the structures  we built with angle posts and bird netting to protect thornless blackberry bushes and the dwarf mulberry tree from marauding cardinals, cat birds and other winged beauties of the woods. Birds don't usually dig, but chipmunks are experts. I read that if their tunnels run close to one's house, they can fill with rainwater and wear down the foundations. They also completely negate any good of our having  painstakingly built anti-bird enclosures. May as well tear them down and let the birds and chipmunks feast---before getting rid of the plants themselves.

Wait a minute! Why this pessimism? Just because the garden is a labor-intensive creative fantasy doesn't mean I should give up, right? OK, that very afternoon I repaired the supposedly weak areas of the fence and concocted a double-strength stinky concoction to spray around the enclosures to deter the chipmunks. I should be happy that neither animal eats the vegetables or the native Maryland plants, which are other treasures of the "Playground in the Back." 

Here are pictures of the garden on the 1st of July. Please enjoy.

The corner where the doe crawls under the fence. Hard to see, but it IS tightly secured.

First blackberry enclosure, which so far hasn't been invaded. Get out the spray!

Blackberries are ripening; protection is vital!

Second enclosure, invaded by chipmunks. Wretched beasts!

Foreground: borlotti beans. In the back, blooming coneflowers and bee balm.

Cabbages are starting to form heads. In the back, freshly-transplanted beets.

Summer squash in the foreground; bitter melon vines in the back.

Delicious broccoli in front, prairie liatris about to bloom just behind them.

A beautiful Japanese eggplant, just forming.

Beetles on the milkweed---kissing!

Beetles on the milkweed----?????

Perfume Fetish

Ever since my second grade teacher Miss Bunting walked by me with her perfume wafting behind, I have had a very strong perfume fetish. If someone was wearing a delicious fragrance, I would try to follow him or her, pulling scent from their wake of air.  I learned to ask, "What is your perfume?" It was the late 50's, and the social air was scented.

In this blog, I talk about "perfume," but what I really mean is either cologne or eau de toilette. I  rarely came in contact with perfume-the-real-stuff until a few months ago.

My earliest experiment was wearing "Topaz," a scent by Avon which my mother liked. One Monday I sneaked some before going to school. "What stinks?" asked Steven Parry in my 7th grade social studies class. Mom had other bottles of equal unpleasantness, but I tried them just the same. She finally did better with a bottle of Chanel No. 5. Impressed with the attachment Mom had for it, I didn't dare try any, but instead sniffed for magic at the tiny hole in the atomizer. Unfortunately, Mom rationed it so carefully that it ultimately turned to antique vinegar. On my own at last at age 18, and in Japan to study, my perfume hunt was stymied. In 1969, Japanese ladies bought bottles of scent but never wore them. Like French cheeses, they were admired and detested.  I knew the name of one perfume I liked, "Femme" by Rochas. A 4-hour trip to Tokyo and then to a large department store netted me a very expensive bottle, which I couldn't wait to bring back to the countryside of Nagano Prefecture. When I opened the bottle, instead of heaven was---nothing! It was a "dummy bottle," meant for display only. Was I cheated? Was it just a mistake? I'll never know, because I was too embarrassed to do anything about it, including telling anyone---which I do here for the very first time.

From 1971 until the present, I have never been without a bottle or two of eau de cologne or eau de toilette. My favorites that I can remember have been "O de Lancome," "Fleur de Rocaille,""L'Air de Temps," "Shalimar," "White Linen," "Chanel No. 5," Floris "Sandalwood,""Femme," (not in a dummy bottle) "Lalique for Men,""Gucci Rush,""Flor Botanica," and "Henna de Pravia." I have always been searching for My Perfect Scent.

Suddenly, this year of 2016, I made a discovery. Silly naif: I never realized that the world of perfume is as complex as the world of wine. Even the simplest Wikipedia search for "Perfume" yields more information about the field than I ever knew existed. But for me, a new and serious exploration started with the discovery of the website Basenotes  which is dedicated to perfume news and reviews. As I began reading about my favorites of yore, I realized that my infrequent trips to department stores to sniff pieces of stiff paper sprayed randomly with the big commercial brands were silly and inadequate. By chance, on Basenotes, I discovered a Los Angeles wonder store called Lucky Scent  which actually sends samples. These are not samples of the highly-advertised mall brands, but of special niche brands from all over the world. They cost $4-$6 per 7 ml. vial, which yield enough scent to know. Hooray! I got started right away with their Essential 13 unisex sample bag.

For each scent, there is a pyramid of ingredients which corresponds to the time it takes for them to develop. Starting with the top notes, right after the initial spray and "dry down," there is then a period of "middle notes," followed by the after-30-minutes more subtle "base notes." 

Now behold my ignorance. Since I was searching for The Perfect Scent, I took notes on the 13 unisex scents at two stages of their development: the top notes and the base notes, and then I gave them letter grades. Here is a "review" of my only A+, Montale's "Intense Cafe:" Has bergamot---wonderful. Four hours later, still wonderful."  Compare this with customer reviews (parts excerpted) on Basenotes: "The composition is mainly a balance of coffee, amber, rose and vanilla that leans most heavily to vanilla. I found the opening more fruity and floral fresh, with the dry down more a harmonious blend of the notes above..."  It "opens with a strong coffee note, and ...then it turns into a sweet rose with vanilla and amber. I could detect some coffee in the background."   Etc. If I decide to be a reviewer, my user name would have to be "The Tin Nose."  

Never mind, I found an A+ scent today: L'Artisan Parfumeur's "Chocolate Greedy." This was panned by a few reviewers, but what do I care? Smelling chocolate at the base of my throat for 8 hours is my fetishy idea of heaven. Follow my wake.

Note the astute reviews given by "The Tin Nose."

No more big bottles for the time being:samples are wonderful!!

A Mucky May Delays Gardening

Rain, rain rain! In heavy, muddy, sticky soil, what can one do? Admire the yearly miracle of the "green conversion," for one thing. From the brown boredom of the sleeping winter garden to the vivid dormant-breaking green of the trees, shrubs, and fast-emerging perennials--this is a yearly fiesta of gardener's joy. 

Weeding, which is a sisyphean task, starts with "controlling the borders:" going around the property to remove incoming and outgoing weed nuisances. These include such torturers as garlic mustard, Asian honeysuckle, bindweed, porcelain berry vines, seeding sedges, and the usual cast of nuisance weeds. They are all talented at spreading, seeding, and growing with more rapidity than the "real" plant lovelies I am trying to grow.

Mini-nurseries---small troughs of kohlrabi,  beet, chard, and cabbage seeds started in homemade compost and leaf mold---are growing in their beds awaiting their eventual transplanting. May 19th I bought  summer vegetable plants (tomatoes, peppers and eggplant) with a retirement gift card to Behnke's Nursery---thank you Steve and Christine!

Then there are my "cageless pets:" garter snakes, a new litter of rabbits, the fox family and endless birds---dropping in for visits or staying as permanent residents. It's my 11th year in this garden, and it is my Giant Backyard Pleasure Ground. 

Five weeks late, May 24th, I began to put  the "tropical" vegetables from Behnke's Nursery into the ground. Seeds for cucumbers, summer squash, and bitter melon next were planted around May 26-27, along with supports, mulch, compost, and the wonderful flat soaker hoses I bought last September.  Three big projects remain for my edibles: putting in the okra beds, transplanting all of the cabbage, kohlrabi, beets and chard seedlings, and bird- and deer-proofing the thornless blackberry hedges.

And then, there is weeding.

Enjoy the pictures---especially the last one!

Calycanthus floridus: the blooms smell like freshly-baked bread.

The "Blue Period:" amsonia flowers

Dwarf mulberry: even as the new leaves emerge, so do the June/July mulberries.

 

Clambering clematis, as the lavender and purple period begins.

A friend gave us a bunch of green onions, which are beautiful as they get ready to go to seed.

Iris which Donna brought from Colorado to Minnesota to Virginia to Silver Spring Maryland!

Baptisia spikes---a precious native perennial.

Part of my milkweed collection---to attract monarch butterflies.

Swamp milkweed--in center--which are competing with too-prolific violets.

In go eggplants, peppers, beans and tomatoes! No--there are no dead bodies buried here.

This ghostly covering is protecting the eggplants from the vicious flea beetles.

The plastic forks pointing outward are supposed to keep the rabbits from nibbling the seedlings. I hope it works!

Straw protects tomato plants from being splashed with fungus-laden soil when it rains. But they all get fungus infections anyway.

Cabbage seedlings ready to transplant. This variety is about the size of a softball, and is sweet and crunchy.

Oozy and sexy: worms mating. I knew how it was done, but never saw it before. Enjoy!

A bilingual post: Sentir el significado/ Feel the Meaning

A word of introduction. I wrote this blog in homage to Jhumpa Lahiri. In her efforts to learn Italian, she went through a difficult and fascinating linguistic metamorphosis. I bow to hers and long for mine. You can read her New Yorker  article about the process  here. I first wrote this blog in Spanish, and translated it to English, which you will find below.

Una introducción. Escribí este blog en homenaje a Jhumpa Lahiri. En sus esfuerzos para aprender italiano, ella se sometió a una metamorfosis lingüística que era difícil y fascinante. Tengo respeto para la de ella, y deseo profundamente una mía. Una historia sobre su experiencia, puede leerse en la revista New Yorker: aquí está.    

SENTIR EL SIGNIFICADO

En el Diccionario de la lengua española, la obra de referencia de la Real Academia Española, la quarta definición de la palabra ¨significado¨ es término lingüístico: representación mental. Es cierto. Desde la niñez, para mí el acto de leer una historia siempre llevaba consigo representaciónes mentales que lo acompañaban. Escenas, paisajes, figuras, expresiones faciales, colores, movimientos, situaciones--no me faltaban nunca visiones pasando a lo largo de las palabras del autor. Ficción o factual, qualquier frase aún puede producir casi sin esfuerzo una película mental vista desde la mente de mi alma. Es para mí uno de los encantos de la lectura.

Hace dos meses, comencé a leer en español, algo que no había hecho por unos 40 años. Lo hallé problemático. La representación mental es frustrada por la dificultad de leer palabras extranjeras. Sus letras, sus cuerpos, sus totalidades--no producen ninguna pelicula en la mente--¡qué tontería! Perro. P-E-R-R-O. Por amor de Dios, no veo ningún perro. Su significado es, simplemente, un significado. "Perro" quiere decir "dog." Pero no veo nada, ni perro ni dog. Es verdaderamente un problema, esta falta de representación mental, no digamos entrar en la selva tupida de palabras con significados desconocidos. En ese caso, busco el significado en el diccionario para hallar--bravo! bravíssimo!--otro significado. ¿Dónde está la diversión? ¿El encanto?

Están escondidos porque se necesita cierta forma de esfuerzo para extraerlos, como necesitan todas las diciplinas de los artes para disfrutarlas. Qué tipo de esfuerzo? Para mí es siempre hacerme usar la imaginación. Si leo "perro," y no veo el animal, me paro a pensar, a imaginar, a crear una pintura de ese animal, que quizás estará en una calle de Buenos Aires o Córdoba o en el sitio imaginario del libro que estoy leyendo. Este es el comienzo de sentir el significado: con cosas concretas. Pero aún es difícil, porque mis experiencias con los perros en la lectura "en español" son limitadas, aunque he visto, por supuesto, centenares de perros leyendo "en ingles." Porqué no es igual? Dónde está el perro que necesito ahora mismo en la lectura? Porqué no funciona la imaginación, y porqué me tropiezo con las letras p-e-r-r-o? 

Ay! Necesito otro tipo de esfuerzo, otra "disciplina." O "anti-disciplina." Esta es dejar que la mente evoque una alucinación, el fenómeno que pasa cuando escucho música. Escuchando, los sonidos pasan por los oídos, pero entran hondamente en la mente, produciendo algo como sueños o ilusiónes, ricos de asociaciones, sin nombres, sin palabras, creando otro plano de sentir. Leyendo, también puedo dejar aparecer alucinaciones, mirando lentamente las palabras, que también entran en la mente, creando imágenes, emociones, ilusiones: un estado imaginario de ensueño. Milagrosamente, no importa si la lectura está escrita en un idioma no materno, porque nace la imaginación en forma de ilusión. Si logro imaginar y alucinar para "ver" y "sentir" lo que leo, no importa si sea concreto o abstracto: el método funciona para los dos. Después, es menester leer mucho, y hacer crecer las experiencias mentales en este idioma extranjero--palabra tras palabra, capítulo tras capítulo, libro tras libro. Así comienzan premios valiosos de la lectura: poco a poco, conocer a un autor, un estilo, un modo de pensar, una época, un país. Premios verdaderos.

FEEL THE MEANING

I have been very interested in the meanings of words in Spanish, so I looked up the word “meaning,” which in Spanish is significado, in The Dictionary of the Spanish Language put out by the Royal Spanish Academy. In that dictionary the fourth definition is “mental representation,” or, representación mental. Well, no mistake about that. Since childhood, all of my reading has been accompanied by a rolling “movie” of scenarios, people, facial expressions, colors, movements, situations. Whatever the author wrote, the words leapt into life. Even today, whether I read fiction or non-fiction, any sentence can effortlessly produce a mental image in the mind of my soul. It’s one of the enchantments of reading.

About two months ago, I started reading in Spanish—something I hadn’t done for over forty years. I found it problematical. The “mental representation” is waylaid by the clumsiness of reading foreign words. Neither the letters nor the bodies of a word produce anything close to a moving picture in my mind. How ridiculous to even hope for such a thing! The word “dog,” for example,  is perro. P-E-R-R-O.  For the love of God, I don’t see any dog. The meaning is, simply, a meaning. Perro means “dog.” But I don’t see either a dog or a perro.  So it’s really a problem, this lack of mental representation--not to mention the dense jungle of words whose meanings I don’t even know. In that case, I search for the meaning in the dictionary to find---gee, what a surprise---another meaning. Where is the fun? The enchantment?

They are hidden, because one needs a certain kind of effort to extract them, as all disciplines of the arts do, in order to enjoy them.  What kind of effort?  For me, it’s always been to use my imagination. If I read perro, and don’t see an animal, I stop for a split second to think, to imagine, to create a picture of that animal—perhaps in a street in Buenos Aires or Cordoba, or in the imaginary scene in the book I’m reading. This is the beginning of  feel the meaning: with concrete objects. But it’s still difficult, because my experiences with dogs  “in Spanish” are limited, although I’ve seen, of course, hundreds of dogs “in English.”  Why aren’t the two experiences the same? Where is the perro that I now need when I read in Spanish?  Why doesn’t my imagination work, and why do I stumble over the letters p-e-r-r-o? 

I obviously need another kind of effort, another “discipline.” Or “anti-discipline.” This would be to let my mind evoke a hallucination---the phenomenon that occurs when I listen to music. Listening, the notes pass through my ears, but enter deeply into my mind, producing something like dreams or illusions—rich with associations without names or words—creating another plane of feeling. Reading, I can also let these hallucinations appear, looking slowly at the words, which also enter my mind to create images, emotions, and illusions: an imaginary dream-like state. Miraculously, it doesn’t matter if the reading material is in a foreign language, because imagination is born as a kind of illusion. If I succeed in imagining and hallucinating in order to “see” and “feel” what I read, it doesn’t matter if it’s concrete or abstract: the method works for both. Then, of course,  it’s necessary to read a great deal, and let these mental experiences in Spanish grow---word by word, chapter by chapter, book by book. And so begin  priceless rewards of reading: little by little getting to know an author, a style, a way of thinking, a period of time, a country. Priceless indeed.

Blizzard days/ Días nevosos

(En español después del inglés.) 

From Friday, January 23rd until Saturday the 24th, the East Coast suffered a historic blizzard. Here in Silver Spring, Maryland, we have had lots of snow before---just not so much so quickly---at least in quite a long time. So, this is just a quick little blog post to show you what it looked like, and how Donna and I went to work to dig ourselves out. A boring story for those who dwell in snowy regions, but perhaps a bit of a novelty for those who don't. 

Desde viernes el 23 de enero hasta sábado el 24, la Costa Oriente de los EEUU sufrió una nevada histórica. Aquí en Silver Spring, Maryland, hemos experimentado mucha nieve antes, pero no tanto a la vez. Escribo este blog para  que vean cómo era, y como Donna y yo nos excavamos. Especialmente para mis amigos en el Cono del Sur, sería algún novedad en sus tiempos de 40++ grados!

Saturday morning, our back yard looking toward Sligo Creek Park. Sábado, en la mañana, se ve el fondo de nuestra propiedad,  hacia el Parque de Sligo Creek

On our patio: chairs around a table with a big snow cake! Nuestro patio con sillas alrededor de una mesa con un pastel de nieve!

The trees in front of the house.  Los árboles enfrente de la casa

Where are our cars?? Dónde están nuestros coches?

Then, after 8 hours of digging on Sunday, here below are the results as seen on Monday morning, January 25. Pues, después de 8 horas de cavar con pala el domingo, aquí abajo se ven los resultados visto la mañana de lunes, 25 de enero.

A path to the cars! Un senderito hasta los coches!   

The car is getting free. Casi se libera el coche.

Ladd Street, facing east, nicely plowed. Nuestra calle hacia el este, nieve quitada con gracia.

Our house: still a lot of work to do! Nuestra casa con mucho trabajo quedándonos .

Here I am, all geared up. (I took off most of these clothes after 30 minutes of shoveling.) Aquí estoy, equipada. (Quité la mayoría de mi ropa después de 30 minutos de trabajo.)

Acción!

After 5 hours of labor, Donna artistically freed her car. Después de 5 horas de trabajo, Donna artísticamente libero su coche.

Smile of triumph

We admire her work again, as the sun sets. Admiremos la obra al puesto del sol.

Lazy indolent sloth!  Gandula holgazana!

Water Fetish

I discovered recently and with surprise that over the years I have developed a water fetish. One by one, various water-imbibing implements have been added to our household hydration, until a fetishization  seems to have manifested. Cold water, hot water---I've got to have it. I spend a great deal of the day studying, so I truly find it comforting to have a cup of something hot or cold nearby. It's a thinking aid, a brain relaxer, a mild distraction to allow a thought or vocabulary word to sink in. As the study I do usually demands much concentration and focus, I get hungry. The working brain gobbles energy---everyone knows that. So, in comes zero-calorie water to work beautifully as an appetite depressant. It curbs the urge to graze, to plunder the refrigerator. And of course, cold water from time to time does what it is meant to do, and quenches thirst.

First, the subject of obtaining cold water. Tap water is wonderfully clean in this country (except for Flint, Michigan, January 2016 ( see link). We could easily drink right from the faucet, and be content, but here at home we upgraded long ago with a Brita water filter system. A clumsy and obnoxious filter-in-pitcher system, this was happily replaced by filtered water pipelets that came out of both the kitchen sink and a front section of the refrigerator. The taste of chlorine and other impurities mostly disappeared. 

Next, the space-robbing freezer-burn-prone ice cube tray was replaced by the automatic dispenser, also on the front of the refrigerator. Not to give up entirely on the tray, I discovered a soft silicone giant ice cube "tray" at the addictive kitchen store Sur Le Table, which makes 2"X 2" squares. One per glass, and you're good for at least one refill, if not two. The silicone's squeezy consistency also allows easy removal of the cubes, which can then be put in a plastic bag for use.  

Ice-cold flat water is great, but carbonated is even better. Enter the SodaStream, which is, at the outset, an admittedly over-priced water carbonation system. However, its CO2 cylinder makes 60 liters of fizzy water, and lasts us 3+ months. Flavors can be added or not. Together with all of the ice cube choices, comes cold water satisfaction.

The soda stream dispenser and a liter of fizzy water

The filtered water and ice dispenser and the giant ice cube tray

What about hot water? I started out with first the humble tea kettle, and then the much handier electric kettle. Electric kettles which turn off automatically when the water comes to a boil were on every kitchen counter in the London houses I visited in the 1980's. They gradually made their way to the U.S., and I used them for many years. Until I started to study Chinese. When I first arrived at the home of my beloved Chinese teacher, she asked if I'd like tea. Thinking of the cumbersome electric kettle, I nearly refused. However, a cup of hot tea materialized after ten seconds or so every time I went for a lesson, though I had no idea how. When I spent five weeks studying in Tainan, in the south of Taiwan, my kind landladies left for Cheng Kung University every morning, and I was alone in the flat to study. They had a marvelous device: a kettle which dispensed water kept constantly at a temperature near the boiling point. A true miracle, it let me choose from a great variety of teas, cafe con leche mixes, or just hot water whenever I wanted. Most of the Asians I know relish a cup of hot water in the winter, and I took up the habit, for a while at least. When I came home, I longed to have such a marvelous invention, and after a few months, there it was, a king of dispensers. It is a Japanese model, Zojirushi brand, holds 4 liters of water, and has three temperature settings: 208, 195, and 175 degrees F. (212 F is boiling.) All day long, I can have any hot drink I please. 

The magical Zojirushi nearly-boiling water dispenser/life enhancer

Except for one: maté. Yerba maté is a sensitive beverage, and is best brewed at 180 degrees F. The dispenser water temperature is stubbornly maintained at 208 for making coffee and tea, but that near-boiling water makes the maté too hot to drink from the silver bombillo, or straw. Therefore, I  need what the maté drinkers of Uruguay and Argentina lug around with them at all times: a thermos. I just ordered a two-liter midnight blue exemplar, so I too can lug the maté equipment around---at least to the upstairs library. 

The marvelous thermos: water still mate-hot after 12 hours!

So, you'll be happy to know that my retirement studies are going extremely well, thanks to water variety. Do you have any other ideas to add to this repertoire? Suggestions are welcome in the comments section.