Sandy Claws

Thought for the day:  In all things of nature there is something marvelous.  [Aristotle]

Earth laughs in flowers.  [Ralph Waldo Emerson]

With Mothers' Day right around the corner, how about a quick salute to Mother Nature? She fills our senses with beauty, lifts our hearts, and has the power to fascinate and delight us with her endless mysteries and marvels. Aristotle was absolutely right.

Unfortunately, we aren't always as mindful of her marvels as we should be, or as protective of her wonders as we could be, so it's worth mentioning when humans show appreciation for another species by stepping back and allowing them the right-of-way for a change.

In an earlier post from July of 2011, I wrote about how airplane traffic at JFK Airport in New York comes to a halt every year to accommodate the annual running of the turtles. (So to speak.) Called We Can Fly With a Little Help From Our Friends, it's an uplifting look at how people go out of their way to help those pokey critters make it to their rendezvous with l'amour. They even go so far as to load 'em in pick-up truck beds and give 'em a lift. Well, today, we're gonna talk about another animal migration.

This one takes place on the other side of the world from New York, on an island called... Christmas Island.

Okay, so that picture isn't really a picture of Christmas Island. But that little guy in his Santa hat tickled my funny bone. Then again, if you think about it, Christmas Island isn't really Christmas Island, either. That's just the name some explorers gave it when they discovered it on Christmas Day. Kinda like those other explorers did when they discovered Easter Island. (Yep, that's another old post you might enjoy, called Everybody Loves Some Body.)

Here's a map to give you a better idea of where this little island, AKA Kiritimati,  is located. There may, in fact, be some little white dogs living there, but it's probably safe to say few, if any, of them wear Santa hats.

In fact, there are lots of interesting critters on the island. Also presumably without hats. Or galoshes.

Lots of birds, especially. Birds who don't seem to care what kind of name we give them. Like this red-footed booby. He doesn't seem to be at all insulted by that name. Maybe it's because the island is overrun with boobies, so he isn't the only one stuck with that name.

 But I digress. I don't want to talk about boobies, or any other kind of bird; I wanta talk about crabs. This crab... the Christmas Island red crab. Cute little guy, isn't he? And he is little... the shell's only about four and a half inches on a full-grown adult. And believe it or not, these guys don't live in the water; they're land crabs.

But that doesn't mean the ocean doesn't call to them.

Every year, at the beginning of the rainy season, usually in November, but as early as October, these crabs vacate their burrows in the woods, and head for the water. I'm talking a lot of crabs. Like millions of them. The males reach the beach first, where they dutifully dig new burrows. When the ladies arrive, they um, do what comes naturally. A lot of doing what comes naturally. Then the males skedaddle back to the woods, and leave the ladies behind to incubate in their burrows for a couple weeks. When it's time, the females lay their eggs in the water, and then head back to their burrows in the woods. The larvae spend three to four weeks in the water (trying to avoid being fish food, I imagine) before going inland. Words cannot do justice to the sight of millions of red crabs heading for the beach. (Kinda like a Spring Break for the animal kingdom.)

So how about a picture? Better yet, a video...

Isn't that something? As far as I know, islanders don't give crabs a lift to the beach in the back of their pick-up trucks, but park rangers do take steps to help protect the little critters as they make their annual trek. They close some roads altogether, and on others, set up aluminum barriers called crab fences, which funnels crabs off the road and into small underground passes called crab grids. Okay, so maybe some of this protective behavior may be based on the fact that those crabs have shells tough enough to puncture tires, but still...

The only thing more amazing than the sight of millions of adult crabs heading for the beach is the sight of even more of those little itty bitty ones leaving the beach and heading for the woods:

Oops, almost forgot. One more video, simply because it's funny... (and short!)

Before I go, let me ask you one question: what's the difference between a mermaid and a sand crab? Give up? Simple... one's a daughter of the sea, and the other's a son of a beach. (groan) A great big Happy Mother's Days to all you moms out there.

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

P.S. The Goodreads drawing for autographed copies of my book will be taking place on Sunday. (Sorry... for U.S. and Canada only this time.) If you haven't already entered, go for it!

[Photos courtesy of morguefile.com and Wikipedia.]

Baltimore Spice

Thought for the day:  Anyone can love a perfect place. Loving Baltimore takes some resilience.   [Laura Lippman]

On Tuesday, I asked if y'all thought a city could have a personality. What can I say about Baltimore? It definitely has personality. And attitude. Lots and lots of attitude, hon. Even though we moved away from there more than forty years ago, part of my heart is still up there. Matter of fact, Baltimore is where my book Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade takes place.

There is a saying in Baltimore that crabs may be prepared in fifty ways and that all of them are good. [H.L. Mencken]

Well, I can't say that I've had them fifty different ways, but I've yet to try any that weren't lip-smacking good. I mean, just look at this crab cake, wouldja?

It's a real crab cake, meaning it's made with luscious lumps of honest-to-goodness blue crab meat. Not a bunch of breading and vegetables. Yeah, sure, I like green peppers and celery and onions, too, but in the name of all that's good and holy, none of that stuff belongs in a crab cake. Crab meat belongs in a crab cake.

And this belongs in a crab cake. Yep, if Baltimore could be defined by a flavor, it'd have to be Old Bay. It's a must-have in every self-respecting Baltimore kitchen, not just for crab cakes, but for steamed shrimp and crabs, too. Some people even put it in their scrambled eggs, but um, I'll pass on that one.

                   

For better or for worse, Baltimore is also known for the kinda spice found on its infamous Block. Ah, yeah, that's where a long line of well-known strippers have performed over the years, and where decades and decades of soldiers and sailors drooled and spent their cash. At one time, this section of Baltimore Street may have had a certain amount of class. Maybe. Back in the sixties, I walked through the Block in broad daylight to get to where I had to take a civil service test. I was curious about the gaudy looking joints, but not curious enough to slow down and take a good look.

Talking about taking a good look, in Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, a busybody neighbor who lives across the street from Tindeco Wharf seems to get her greatest kicks from looking out her window and into the business of everyone she sees below. Mildred is particularly interested in Pearl's comings and goings, and insists that her husband get up from his easy chair and take a look, because she's sure that woman is up to no good:

     Thornton looked out the window and grinned. "I'll be damned! Do you know who that is?" he said. "That, my dear, is Blaze Starlet. Classiest stripper Baltimore Street ever saw." He smoothed his eyebrows with some spit, and ran a hand through his hair. "I believe I'll go down there and see if that young lady needs a hand."
    Mildred grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the window. "You'll do no such thing! I think we should both sit down and mind our own business."
   Hiding a smile, he let her lead him back to the easy chair, which was precisely where he wanted to be in the first place. That oughta keep her away from that window for a while, he thought smugly.
    Blaze Starlet. Damn, I crack me up.

****

Old Bay and the Block's brand of spice aren't the only defining flavors of Baltimore. Since it was a primary entry point for European immigrants prior to the opening of Ellis Island, ethnic neighborhoods and restaurants abound. If you've got a hankering for a particular European dish, there's a good chance you can find an authentic version of  it. And lots of beer to wash it down, too. Neighborhood taverns, many of them owned and run by a live-in family, freckle Baltimore's landscape as abundantly as churches. And not all of them are, shall we say... showcases:

   George steered his truck into a dimly lit gravel lot near the water's edge, and parked beside a dingy cinderblock building. Looked like Hoover may have been president the last time the place got a coat of whitewash, and the neon palm tree flickering beside the door was moaning a 60-hertz dirge, but the Budweiser sign in the window was all he really needed to see...
   ... Inside, the bar smelled like low tide, mixed with rancid cooking oil and cheap cigars. Limp curtains drooped at the windows, the chipped floor tiles bore evidence of use and abuse, and the tables and chairs looked like rejects from a last chance mix-and-match sale at the Salvation Army thrift shop.

****

It's kinda funny. After Smarticus read my book, I asked him if that Miller's Island bar George went into sounded like any of the places he'd frequented in the old days. He said, "Yeah. All of 'em."

Okay, just so you don't think this post is all about (ugh) self-promotion, let me leave you with a few smiles. Since Baltimore is on the water, and activities on the Chesapeake Bay and down the ocean are so much a way of life, the following comments, allegedly made by actual children, seemed rather appropriate. And heck, what do I care about appropriate, anyway? They're funny! Yep, it seems that kids do say the darnedest things. (Thanks, Pat!)

• Kelly, age 6- This is a picture of an octopus. It has eight testicles.
• Jerry, age 6- Oysters' balls are called pearls.
• Mike, age 7- If you are surrounded by ocean, you are an island. If you don't have ocean all round you, you are incontinent. 
• Kylie, age 6-  Sharks are ugly and mean, and have big teeth, just like Emily Richardson . She's not my friend any more.
• Billy, age 8-  A dolphin breathes through an asshole on the top of its head.
• Millie, age 6- My uncle goes out in his boat with 2 other men and a woman and pots and comes back with crabs.
• William, age 7- When ships had sails, they used to use the trade winds to cross the ocean. Sometimes when the wind didn't blow the sailors would whistle to make the wind come. My brother said they would have been better off eating beans.
• Helen, age 6- Mermaids live in the ocean. I like mermaids. They are beautiful and I like their shiny tails, but how on earth do mermaids get pregnant? Like, really?
• Christopher, age 7- Some fish are dangerous. Jellyfish can sting. Electric eels can give you a shock. They have to live in caves under the sea where I think they have to plug themselves in to chargers.
• Kevin, age 6- When you go swimming in the ocean, it is very cold, and it makes my willy small.
• Julie, age 7- On vacation my Mom went water skiing. She fell off when she was going very fast. She says she won't do it again because water fired right up her big fat ass.
• Bobby, age 6- The ocean is made up of water and fish. Why the fish don't drown I don't know.
• James, age 7- My dad was a sailor on the ocean. He knows all about the ocean. What he doesn't know is why he quit being a sailor and married my mom.

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

This 'n' That

Thought for the day:  If you have a drawer filled with odds and ends, and get rid of all but one thing... which is it?

Yep, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. There's even more red splashed around our house than usual, and even though it's so warm I wore shorts and a tee shirt to go shopping the other day, Dash still felt the need to curl up inside a flannel shirt she found lying on the bed. (Her head is peeking out the sleeve!) (And, um, yes, that IS a lava lamp in the background.)

Okay, this is gonna be an eclectic post today. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Like what do YOU want for Christmas? I have a pretty good idea  what my hubby would like...

                                                      (I'll have to see what I can do...)

How's about this for an early Christmas present? How's about a break from wracking your brain to come up with an idea for a post this Friday? D.L. Hammons is hosting a blogfest where all you have to do is pick out your favorite post from 2012, and run it again. Um, one YOU wrote, that is. You know, maybe one that didn't get the love you think it deserved? Whatever floats your boat. If you'd like to participate, just hit that Deja Vu button in the side bar, and sign on up. Should be fun!

Kittie Howard's new book launched last Thursday, and I think this is one you might want to order right away. Really! Not only is it a really good book, but this month's sales proceeds are being funneled to the Wounded Warrior project. So, while you're giving yourself the gift of this book, your money will also be supporting a very worthy cause.

What's it about? I'm glad you asked. David, a decorated Marine who survived the horrors of Iwo Jima, doesn't expect to have to fight more battles when he returns to Louisiana after the war. But he does. You see, the local members of the KKK don't care about his war record.

Intrigued? You should be. Kittie does an excellent job of taking a part of history some of us would rather forget, those horrific days of lynchings and cross-burnings... and makes it come alive. And she breathes life into the sharecroppers and their families, too, both black and white, who were terrorized by the Klan, and demonstrates the enduring got-your-back brotherhood of the Marines. As a special added bonus, she also offers some background history and a Cajun glossary at the beginning of the book that I'm sure other history nerds will enjoy as much as I did.

And like I said, the $2.99 it'll cost you to get the e-book on Amazon or Smashwords can help make a difference for our returning soldiers. Ginormous kudos to Kittie for supporting Wounded Warriors again. (She did the same thing with her first book.)

Think I can get away with serving Smarticus THESE crabs....?

Nah, me neither.





You guys like custard? Me, I wouldn't mind finding myself in a swimming pool filled with the stuff and eating my way out. Okay, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but it's definitely one of my favorite old-fashioned comfort foods. Much to my surprise, I discovered recently that none of my friends ever make it. They LIKE it... they just don't know how to MAKE it. And it is sooooo easy! This recipe comes from a circa 1945 or so cookbook, and tell ya what... I'm gonna share it with you.

Preheat your oven to 350, because you'll have the custard ready to pop in there in no time at all. Mix 3/4 c of sweetened condensed milk (not evaporated... sweetened condensed) with 2 1/4 c HOT water. (not boiling, but HOT) While stirring continuously, gradually pour the milk mixture over 3 slightly beaten eggs. Add 1/4 tsp salt. (optional) That's IT. I sometimes add a splash of vanilla or rum flavoring or grated coconut, but none of those things are needed. It's super good just as is. Pour the mixture into a baking dish or individual custard cups, sprinkle with nutmeg, and set in a pan of hot water. Then bake for 40-45 minutes, or until a knife blade can be inserted and comes out clean. See? Easy! And oh, so good.

Okay, has this post been eclectic enough for ya? I believe I'm gonna go make some custard now... for some reason, I've suddenly developed a craving for it. And then? And then I believe I'm gonna go out and get some crabs. Who says we have to wait for Christmas? It's December. Close enough.

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

All's Fayre

Thought for the day:  Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.  [Erma Bombeck]

Trust me. I'm your doctor.

Once, I made the foolish mistake of letting my husband talk to the doctor by himself. Yeah, I know. Dumb, huh? Weeks later...  after he'd painted our entire fence, gone bowling with his pals, and shot innumerable games of pool in our basement... I heard the doctor tell him it was okay to get out of bed now.

Doggone it, I let it happen again.

This past Friday, Smarticus had a minor in-office procedure done, and rather than sitting around waiting for him, he suggested I get a flu shot. You guessed it. He was in and out long before I got the darned shot. He ended up talking to the doctor by himself, and then strolling over to wait for me.

Told me he was supposed to take it easy over the weekend. Said he could take Tylenol or drink adult beverages if he experienced any pain.

The next day, he only worked in his garage for ... a little while. And he only ran ... a couple errands. Said he felt great, and we should go spend a...  little time at the British Car Fayre. No point in arguing with him. I grabbed my camera, and off we went.

The British Car Fayre, held in our little town every year, features just about every kind of British-made vehicle you can imagine, and plenty of them. Plenty of people to see them, too. There were some four-legged visitors, too. The owner of these little guys assured me that they aren't at all spoiled.

There were a number of the expected motorcycles there, as well as this rather unusual one. Best we could figure, it was like a rat rod of the two-wheeled variety.

One area was filled with Land Rovers, but this was the only one with a tent on top. Looks like a pretty neat way to go camping, doesn't it?

I say... does anyone recognize this dapper fellow?

The old MGs are nice, but dontcha LOVE the old house?

The show isn't ALL about cars, ya know. There's gotta be music, too

Lots of people seemed to enjoy the fish and chips prepared out front of the pub, but I couldn't get past the overpowering smell of cooking oil. (The malt vinegar sure smelled good, though.)

A Morgan, my favorite. These things absolutely ooze class.

Would you believe this little three-wheeler is a Morgan, too? Not sure, but I think it's called a Triking.

Did you realize the ultra-sleek Lotus is a British-made car? I must admit, I didn't.

This is a very early model Lotus race car.

Alas, the flux capacitor was missing.

This is a 1928 Riley Brooklands. (I never heard of them before, either.)

We were just starting to look at the Roll Royces when the sky opened up. I am talking RAIN. Serious rain. We had a big umbrella. In the car, of course. And a couple ponchos. Also in the car. So, like a lot of other people, we slipped into one of the shops until the worst of it passed.






When it rains, I let it.  [113-year old man, when asked for the secret to his longevity.]

After we got home, Smarticus started talking trash about maybe going out to his garage to do a little more work.

So, what can I say?  I had little choice.

Doggone it, it was time for me to take action, people! I decided right there and then the only way I was gonna make his butt take it easy was to ... have a party! That's right. Trip the light fantastic, baby. Invite some friends, fill the cooler with beer and ice, and put the cooler right there beside his spot on the love seat...

                                                  He agreed. Enthusiastically, too.

                                                And we invited a hand-picked thirty-six.

I'm not sure how much fun they had, but it's fayre to say we had a fine time. And he... took it easy.

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

Give a Friend Crabs

Thought for the day: I have an answering machine in my car. It says, I'm home now. But leave a message and I'll call when I'm out.  [Steven Wright]

REAL crab cakes contain very little filler.

Okay, WE don't have an answering machine in OUR car, but now that we're back home, let me share a little bit about our time away.

First, it's entirely untrue that my husband and I ate our weight in crab meat while we were in Maryland. Not that we didn't TRY, mind you, and since we're such fair equal opportunity eaters, I'll have you know we gave ample time and belly space to crab cakes, soft crabs, steamed hard crabs, and several varieties of crab soup.

Not saying the reason we went to Maryland was to stuff ourselves with seafood, but, well, we're no fools. We're there? By golly, we're gonna support the local economy and EAT it.

 Recognize this... Guy?

Several Baltimore eateries were featured on TV's Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives shortly before we headed up that-a-way, so we made a point of visiting one of them while we were there... Broadway Diner. Wow. I repeat, WOW. This place is only a distant cousin, several times removed, from the slightly disreputable greasy spoon trucker hang-outs that used to line Route 40 when we were kids. It may have the iconic streamlined chrome look from the outside, but this place is much larger, much flashier, much hipper than any ol' diner-next-to-a-cheesy-motel ever hoped to be. Lots of tables and comfy booths. Little booth-side jukeboxes. (Remember them? 'Course, instead of nickels and quarters, these babies require greenbacks.) Great service, great ambience, a happy hum from a hungry crowd, but not an exorbitant wait. But the greatest thing about this place is its food. I kid you not, they served me the world's BEST sandwich ever. Called the ultimate grilled cheese, it was made on thick slabs of scrumptious brioche with four (Count 'em, FOUR!) different kinds of cheeses. The kicker? A generous layer of well-seasoned lump backfin crab meat. No kidding. The BEST. My hubby had the Chesapeake burger, made of Angus beef ... in itself top-notch... but it ALSO had a layer of that perfect-tasting crab meat. Quite a culinary experience. A bit pricier than our usual luncheon fare, but worth every penny. PLUS we got to see a bunch of cool pics from Guy Fieri's visit to the place. Wanta peek at some?

It isn't as though we don't eat seafood when we're at home, ya know. Even in a landlocked place like Atlanta, it's possible to find quite a decent variety of it. Even live blue crabs. Matter of fact, a while back,  I went to the doctor for one of those regular kinda check-up visits, and afterwards, stopped at the market across the street from the medical center to see what kind of seafood goodies were available. On the way home from there, I gave my hubby a call via amateur radio and told him something along the lines of, "I'm out of the doctor's, and I got crabs!"

Yeah. As you can imagine, I took quite a ribbing from our radio buddies over THAT one. (Now, if I want to give hubby a message about getting crabs, I say, "I got the Motts!")

In addition to tons of seafood, it's entirely possible that I ate a lot more sweets than usual while we were in Maryland, too. Lemon meringue pie. Smear cake. Powdered sugar-covered Polish cookies, and some amaaaaazing Polish candy--- liqueur-filled chocolates! Incredibly good. Oh, and let's not forget my mother-in-law's wonderful homemade kielbasa. She made twenty-some pounds of it for the wedding reception. Oh, didn't I mention that? Yep, that's the primary reason we went to Maryland. For our beautiful niece's wedding. Grrrreat wedding, too. I'll tell you more about it next time. (Ever been to a Polish wedding?)

In the meantime, how about you? How do you indulge your tastebuds when you're away from home? Oh, and in case you're worried about all that food I ate totally ruining my (ahem) girlish figure, don't. Everybody know vacation calories ... don't count.

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

Oh yeah, definitely. Give a friend crabs!