Full Disclosure: I'm Not a Trend-Setter

Thought for the day: No man has ever been shot while doing the laundry.

I just came in from hanging a tablecloth on the clothesline. Perfect day for it, too. Wall-to-wall sunshine, and a nice breeze blowing, the kind of day that does a lickety-split job of drying, and leaves everything smelling like the great outdoors. As I hung it, I thought about the tons of clothes I've clipped onto clotheslines over the years...

We lived in a row home when I was a kid, and had a fold-up umbrella type clothesline. In those days, every back yard in the whole congested neighborhood held a clothesline of some sort, and hanging clothes outside wasn't just a necessity; it was a time for bona fide over-the-fence socializing.

I reckon our love affair with computers have changed that scenario quite a bit, eh?




 But anyhow, back then, hanging clothes was a time for gossiping, political opining, recipe swapping, and talking about the latest guest on the Ed Sullivan show. I was a latchkey kid, so most of the time, I was the one out there hanging clothes behind our house, and for some unfathomable reason, the neighbor ladies accepted me as their pint-sized equal.

Now, not all the memories of those times are rosy. Trying to fold frozen clothes with equally frozen fingers wasn't a whole lot of fun.

Wasn't too great when one of our dogs completely shredded everything hanging on the line, or when a flock of mulberry-eating birds selected our humble sheets as a primary bombing target, either. But all-in-all, I remember those days fondly.











The first house Smarticus and I bought boasted a killer clothesline. Big sturdy metal tees with half a dozen long lines stretched between them. (As Tim Allen would say, "R-R-R-R!") The thing was, it was a pretty big yard, so there was never any socializing over the fence while hanging clothes. Then, most everybody got clothes dryers, so it became a rarity to even see anybody outside with a wet basket of laundry.

When we moved here to the sunny South, there were no clothesline to be seen in our neighborhood at all. Zip, zilch, nada. I reckon it was considered "common" or "old-fashioned" to hang clothes on the line in 1971. Anybody who was anybody had the latest, greatest clothes dryer by then. Even me. But I also had a clothesline in the back yard. Something big enough to hang sheets, because, really, is there anything that smells as wonderful as bedclothes filled with the smell of sunshine? Alas, in time, I, too, grew weary of hanging clothes. It's too bloody hot here in the summertime. And well, yeah, a dryer really is convenient.

But I still have ONE line strung out back, and always will. And when I was out there hanging that tablecloth this morning, lo and behold, the man who lives behind us was hanging something on a line in his yard, too! He's a new neighbor, and it's a brand new line. And get this: we exchanged greetings. It wasn't exactly heavy-duty socializing like days of yore, but it sure felt good. And I've noticed that some of the young families moving into our neighborhood are putting up clotheslines, too. Going green, they say. But I say, what's old is new again.

Like lots of other things. Our daughter used to tease me unmercifully because of some of the clothes I wore. Like clam diggers. In fact, she teased me so much, I finally got rid of them. And wouldn't ya know, they're all the rage now. They call 'em capri pants these days, but as far as I'm concerned, they're just good old clam diggers with a fancy name and attitude. So in years to come, if you should happen to see me sporting a suddenly popular pair of bell bottom pants, it won't be because I'm a trend-setter. It'll be because I never got rid of my old ones. And if red patent leather platform shoes ever come back into style, I'm all set. And (shhh) just between you and me, I'm never giving up my slouch socks.

Hmmmm, maybe I should teach my granddaughters how to play jacks. We could be starting a new trend ...

How about you? Are some of the "old things" from your past becoming new again? (Face lifts don't count!)

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other. Think I'll go pull out my old bag of balls and jacks. My skills could use a little brushing up.







P.S. Hanukkah, an eight-day festival celebrating the triumph of light over darkness, of purity over adulteration, and spirituality over materialism, begins this weekend. To all who are Jewish, I wish you a very happy Hanukkah. For the rest of us, I believe we, too, should embrace the ideals of light over darkness.

If you're gonna be lighting a menorah, I bet you won't be doing it quite like THIS:

         

Counting Our Blessings

Thought for the day:  Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it. [William Arthur Ward]

In the United States, we celebrated Thanksgiving yesterday. I suppose from an alien's point of view, some of the traditions associated with that holiday are a bit... strange. As an earthling, I think there's something a teensy bit strange about it, too. I mean, the idea of an annual holiday centered around the expression of gratitude sounds oh-so nice on the surface, but why isn't gratitude something we express every day? Isn't every day filled with blessings? Isn't every day a gift and a miracle? We don't need to shove bread up a turkey's butt  or stuff ourselves to the point of misery every day, but I think the world would be a better place, and we would be infinitely more content earthlings, if we made a conscious effort to express appreciation for the people and things in our lives and to give thanks for them... every day.

Appreciation can make a day, even change a life. Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary. [Margaret Cousins]

A most memorable story of  gratitude comes from the life of Corrie ten Boom. During WWII, her family was sent to a concentration camp for aiding and hiding their Jewish neighbors. The tent Corrie slept in at the concentration camp was horrifically infested with fleas, and yet, as she explained in the book The Hiding Place, she was grateful for those fleas. She thanked God for those fleas every single day.

Most of us with pets have had to fight a flea infestation at one time or another, but if you've never experienced that particular brand of hell, let me tell you, their bite induces a claw-your-skin-off kind of maddening itch.

So how could anyone be honestly and humbly grateful for an out-of-control infestation of those hellish creatures?

Because their presence kept the guards away, which allowed her the freedom to conduct Bible studies and prayer meetings.

Astounding, isn't it? The Bible admonishes us to be grateful in all things, but I honestly don't think I could ever live up to that example set by Miss ten Boom. Even so, we should try. Maybe not to give thanks for fleas, exactly, but to appreciate the many blessings in our lives. That being said, I'm thankful for you guys. Really. You are all bright spots in my life, and I'm grateful we met through the wonders of the Internet. I'm thankful for humor, too, even if it's sometimes inappropriate. (My bad)

Okay, how about some silly Thanksgiving riddles? They aren't even inappropriate...

• What sort of glass should you use to serve cream of turkey soup? A goblet.
• What's Alan Alda's favorite Thanksgiving dish?  M*A*S*Hed potatoes.
• What do you call sweet potatoes that are very outspoken? Candid yams.
• If I have relatives with Mohawk haircuts, multiple facial piercings, and a bunch of tattoos, what should I serve them for dessert? Punk kin pie.
• Not only was my neighbor's turkey infected with salmonella, but she undercooked it.  Guess what all her guests suffered the next day? Yup, 'fraid so. The turkey trots.
• The local restaurant served overcooked turkey, lumpy gravy, and cold mashed potatoes. Know how they advertised it? As the blooperplate special.
• NYC is placing tall bleachers up and down Broadway so spectators can get a better view of what slightly renamed event? The May See Parade.
• What famous play about a Thanksgiving turkey was written by Henrik Ibsen? Hedda Gobbler. 

Okay, enough groaners for now. Time to count my blessings. Care to join me? Check out this video  It'll put ya in the right mood.

And these cartoons are only a little inappropriate...



           

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Odds and Ends

Thought for the day: If your odds 'n' ends drawer only has one item left in it, which is it... an odd or an end?

This blog always tends to be a bit on the eclectic side, but today, we're going all-out random by writing about four totally unrelated items. See, whenever I come across something that piques my interest, I write a note to self to remind me to dig a little deeper.

So... I dug... and this post is the result. (I hope you dig it!)

[wikipedia image, courtesy of David Iliff]

For the first item, we're going to visit a beautiful national park. Yosemite. This mountain formation is known as the Half Dome, because with its one sheer face and three smooth rounded sides, it kinda looks like a dome cut in half. Located 4737 feet (1444 meters) above the valley floor, it's quite the majestic sight, isn't it?

It's also a favorite target for intrepid mountaineers and rock climbers. In particular, there's a section known as the Thank God Ledge. Personally,  I'd be more inclined to call it the No Way in Hell Ledge, because there is NO WAY you'd ever find my butt up there.  I'm not even sure my fat feet would fit...

                                                           Care to take a peek?

Whew, huh? Although we wimps may consider the notion of putting one's life in danger by traversing a ledge that was clearly not designed for people to traverse, I'm sure those who do such a thing may consider us to be the odd ones.

[wikipedia]

Since some of you either live or have lived in parts of the country where these evil cacti grow, I'm sure you're familiar with them. (Hopefully, not too closely.) The proper name of this booger is cylindropuntia fulgida, but it's more commonly known as the teddy bear cholla. Awww! Sweet name, huh? I guess 'cause it looks so cute and cuddly...

[wikipedia]

Those thorns don't look all that cute and cuddly in this close-up shot, do they? This piece, detached from the cactus plant, demonstrates why it's also known as the jumping cholla. 

No, it doesn't actually jump... but I bet it's made plenty of people and animals jump. And holler.

And bleed.

These little pieces of the cacti are so loosely attached to the plant, lightly touching the plant makes them detach. Even the vibrations from someone foolish enough to walk too closely to it can set 'em free.

And they aren't nearly as easy to detach from human and animal flesh as they are from the plant.

[wikipedia]

The hymenopus coronatus, AKA the orchid mantis is much more friendly than that cactus. Unless you're an insect, that is.

Found in Southeast Asia, this mantis is pink and white with semi-opalescent flattened limbs that enable it to blend in beautifully with an orchid. It clings to the blossom with its rear legs and sways gently to attract flies and other insects. (AKA dinner)



                                      Even if you don't like bugs... isn't she a beauty?

[wikipedia]

We're going to end with a rather remarkable woman... Mary Ellis, who was the last surviving female pilot from WWII. She flew 76 different types of planes and delivered more than 1000 of them, but her favorite plane to fly was the Spitfire... which she flew solo. She passed away in July of this year... at the age of 101... and as you can see in the video, which was made just a few months before her death, she was still full of spit and vinegar.

No wonder the biography about her is titled A Spitfire Girl. (Author: Melody Foreman)

       Well, that's it for now. Odd enough collection for ya? (Never apologize for being different.)
Curiosity killed the cat, but where human beings are concerned, the only thing a healthy curiosity can kill is ignorance. [Harry Lorayne]

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Exercising Our Creativity Keeps Our Brains in Shape

Thought for the day: Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks you can think if only you try! [Dr. Seuss]

Yipes. Did you see that blur? It was yet another month flying past. Holy moley!

Which mean... it's time for another IWSG post. This, the first Wednesday of the month, is when writers all over the world post about the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the ins and outs... of writing. We celebrate... we complain... we commiserate. Whatever we need, this is the place to find it. Humble thanks and a jolly tip of the hat go to Alex Cavanaugh, our fearless ninja leader and the originator of this fine group. If you'd like to join (It's FREE!) or would like to read some of the other posts, please go HERE

I've gotta say, October has been a pretty good month for me, writing-wise. I'd been semi-stalled on my WIP, kinda spinning my wheels, and only writing in short dribs and drabs, and then at the last minute, I decided to write something for the WEP challenge to make my "kid sister" pal Renee happy. The funny thing is, it made ME happy, too. I actually had fun with it, and much to my surprise, the judges selected it to receive the Encouragement Award... kinda like third place. (Like being Miss Congeniality! Cool. huh?)  It didn't do a darned thing to advance my WIP, but it was writing, and it was fun. Then, I decided to write and submit a story for the next IWSG anthology. Young adult romance isn't exactly the sort of thing I usually write, but doggone if I didn't have fun with THAT, too... a LOT of fun. THEN, to top it all off, after completing those two projects, my enthusiasm for my WIP returned...  and I'm now doing more writing than procrastinating and making lame excuses. (At this rate, I may actually finish this darned book!)

[source: unsplash]

Let's move right on to this month's question, shall we?

How has your creativity in life evolved since you began writing?

I don't have any statistics to back me up, but I suspect that most writers are creative people, and  by that, I'm not just stating the obvious. I'm not saying that writers write. (Duh!) I mean that I think writers tend to be creative in other ways, as well.

I think we're all born with an innate curiosity and imagination, which kinda go hand-in-hand with creativity. This spark of inspired creativity, combined with a propensity to ask what if is what propels many writers. Me? There aren't many creative endeavors I haven't explored.

Smarticus thinks I've crocheted enough afghans to just about cover the globe. Lots of sewing and doll-making, too. Used to do a lot of oil painting and song writing, too, to go along with my guitar-playing. I even got into macrame... and made all kinds of things out of egg cartons. Even built a small Morse code receiver and transmitter. You name it, and I probably tried it.

Was I good at all of it?

In a word, no. I wasn't horrible... but I certainly wasn't great. But I was creative.

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. [Scott Adams]

I made lots of mistakes. Most of my oil paintings belonged in the garbage, but there were a few... a few... worthy of a frame. Dabbling in water colors was a whole 'nother kinda painting that brought me a lot of joy, as did all of the other arts and crafts I embraced over the years. The most important thing to me was that I created something other than carbon dioxide.

But as for how my creativity has evolved since I put all of my eggs in the writing basket? It hasn't. Writing has come to rule supreme over all the rest. And ya know what? I think that's a mistake. Just as writing the entry for the WEP challenge and the Young Adult romance for the anthology stirred things up a bit and enabled me to summon up renewed energy for book two of my series, I think doing other creative activities... you know, something that doesn't have a darned thing to do with writing... would be a smart move. Not just for me, but for most writers.

Writing may be a passion, but if we allow it to become the be-all and end-all sum of our creativity, we shortchange our potential. Do you do puzzles? I do, and my two favorites are the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzles and killer Sudoku puzzles. The thing about doing these two very different kinds of puzzles... and I know this is gonna sound weird... but it feels like I'm using different parts of my brain to solve them. The whole thought process feels different... and I think that's a good thing. Kinda keeps my brain on its toes. So to speak.

Same with doing different kinds of creative activities. The different processes exercise different parts of our imagination and stimulate the ol' gray matter and our creative chops. Why limit ourselves? So what if you don't paint like Rembrandt? Paint like YOU.  Don't be afraid to try. Not the world's best dancer? So what? Dance, anyway! Enjoy the experience.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. [Sylvia Plath]

Like the commercial say... Just do it! Life is filled with creative possibilities. Why limit ourselves to one thing? Writing is our passion, but it isn't cheating when we have a fling with another kind of creativity once in a while. Keeps the imagination limber, and in the long run, I think we'll be better writers for it.

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

There's No Accounting for Taste

Thought for the day:  How is it that a toddler can be so picky and slow when it comes to eating a nutritious dinner, and yet so fast when it comes to shoving every disgusting thing he finds on the ground into his mouth?

[morguefile]

Have you ever noticed how terrapin, turtle, and tortoise seem to be used interchangeably? No? Well, I did, and it made me wonder what, if any, difference there was between the terms. Now that I've done some reading, I can safely report that there is no longer a need to include the word terrapin in my vocabulary. No sirree, and here's why. Turtle is a generic term, so you can properly use it to refer to any of those adorable shelled reptiles, whether they live on the land or in the water.  A tortoise is a turtle, and though the term can be used to denote any turtle, it refers more precisely to a land turtle. But terrapin is defined as any of North America's edible water turtles. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.  I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, there is no such thing as an edible turtle. So, I will not be using that word again anytime soon.

And yeah, I know some of you may disagree. Some of you may consider turtles a wonderful delicacy. After all, even though I think calves are absolutely adorable and have the most beautiful eyes, when driving past a field of them, I may or may not have said a time or two, "Oh, look at all the veals!"

I know. Crass.

But if you think about it, we human eat a lot of strange foods. I mean, I was raised on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, so I love good salty raw oysters, but I still wonder about the first human who picked one up and thought, I'm going to open that thing and eat whatever I find inside. (Even if it looks like the Jolly Green Giant's booger on a half-shell? I don't think I would've been that brave.)

I've gotta admit... it doesn't look terribly appetizing.

OK, let's take a look at some of the weird things some of us eat, shall we?

• In Sardinia, people eat something called casu marzu, which is cheese riddled with insect larvae. Appropriately enough, it is also called maggot cheese. Yum, huh?
• In Indonesia, fried monkey toes are considered a delicacy.
• In Hungary, a favorite dish is comprised of fresh pig blood and scrambled eggs.
• Talking about blood, in Sweden, blood dumplings are made with flour and reindeer blood, and the Polish have czarnina, a soup whose not-so-secret ingredient is duck blood.
• Ever hear of head cheese? It looks like a nondescript mish-mash jellied lunch meat, and can be found in many delis. Did you know that isn't just a cutesy name? That it's actually made from the head of a pig? A whole head, which has to be shaved, and has to have the wax removed from its ears, prior to cooking? If you have the stomach for it, you can see how it's done here

head cheese

• Americans traditionally eat some pretty weird stuff, too. How about scrapple, which is allegedly made from every part of the pig but its oink? I also read that some people in the South eat squirrel brains, although I can't say I've ever seen any of my neighbors so indulge, and I don't plan to serve them at our next dinner party, either.
• In Eastern Europe, there's a dish called p'tcha which is a translucent "jello" made from calves' feet. 
• Oh, and while we're talking about feet, let's not forget pickled pig and cow feet. (There's a jar of pickled pig feet lurking in my pantry now... for Smarticus, not me!)
• In France, they eat calf's head; in Slovenia, they eat stewed dormice; in Italy, they eat cibreo, which is cock's combs; and in Thailand, they eat rats.
• You've heard of Chinese birds nest soup? It is literally made from swifts' nests, and lest you think those nests are made of twigs and grass, they aren't. They're mostly made of saliva.
• In the Philippines, balut answers the age-old chicken-or-the-egg question. This dish is made of fertilized eggs, which are cooked just before they hatch, so when you eat it, you get both the chicken (or duck) AND the egg.  
• One of  Korea's favorite dishes is sannakji. Octopus. No big deal, you say? You've eaten octopus many times, you say?  How many times have you eaten it while it was still squirming on your plate? That's right. This dish is reeeeeeally fresh. While it's still alive, the octopus is cut into pieces and sprinkled with sesame oil, and the tentacles are STILL MOVING when diners pop it into their mouths. It poses quite a challenge, too, because those little suction cups on the tentacles stick to whatever surface they touch. So the diner has to pry his dinner from his chopsticks, and once it's in his mouth,  the tentacles latch onto his teeth, his tongue, and the roof of his mouth. And that's not all... sometimes, they don't even cut the octopus into manageable pieces. Sometimes they leave it whole, wrap the tentacles around a pair of chopsticks and stuff it into their mouths, head first. There are quite a few videos on Youtube of people eating live octopi, but they were a little too gross for me to share. If you want to see any of those videos, they're easy to find. (As well as people eating other live animals.)
• And then, there's the national dish of Scotland. Haggis. This is a sausage-like dish which contains what they call the pluck of a sheep: its heart, liver, and lungs. (Takes a bit of pluck to eat it, too!) When all the ingredients are combined, they're traditionally sewn into the sheep's stomach for cooking, with the windpipe hanging over the side of the pot. Modern recipes, however, may call for tongue instead of lung, and sausage casing instead of sheep's stomach. 
• This love-it or hate-it food comes to us from the UK:  

Marmite is a dark brown spread made from brewery yeast by-products. After seeing it mentioned on several blogs, I bought some at a local British specialty store. The shop's owner fairly waxed poetic about this stuff, but she warned me not to spread it on my toast like butter. "A very thin coat will do you," she said. Indeed. Although British children pretty much eat Marmite from the time they're weaned, I must say, even a very thin coating of it delivered a powerhouse punch of taste for my palate. Not exactly yeasty. It's a little salty and has a strong strong taste unlike anything I've ever eaten before. It's chock full of B vitamins, and very nutritious, so I might try it again, but no rush. I have plenty of time. Even after opening, the stuff will last for years at room temperature.

In closing on this whole weird foods of the world idea, I'll let these following pictures speak for themselves:

 bugs on a stick

fried spiders, anyone?

So, what's all this mean? It means there's simply no accounting for taste. People like what they like, and hate what they hate. Just because I tried chocolate-covered ants when I was a kid (they're crunchy) doesn't mean I'd ever choose them over a Hershey bar. Just because I ate snake once (it really DOES taste like chicken) doesn't mean I ever want to eat it again. And just because most of the world loves chocolate doesn't make you wrong if you hate it.

And here we go: Rejection from any given agent, publisher or reader doesn't mean your writing stinks. All it means is you haven't submitted it to the person with the perfect palate for it yet. The work of any creative person  is every bit as susceptible to personal taste as a still-moving chunk of octopus or jar of pickled pigs feet. I'll betcha even Michelangelo had his detractors. (the artist, not the ninja turtle)

                             So what's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?

                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Wait! Don't leave yet! I don't want to gross you guys out; I'd rather make you feel good. This video ought to do it. Not only will it bring a tear or two to your eyes, but it might make you feel a little more grateful for your next meal... no matter what you eat.