Sunday (today) and Monday are the only two days scheduled to be above freezing. Monday is scheduled to be sunny, all the other days are scheduled to be cloudy, BUT so far, no more snow or serious rain scheduled. The low is gonna be too low 27 down to 12F; the high at 30F down to 20F. Wear your long johns.
Never Insult Your Computer for, Like Dragons, They Have Long Memories and They Get Even!!!:
Dear Computer, I don’t know what I did to upset you, if you will tell me, I’ll do what I can to make it up to you.
Gentle Readers, I have checked all the boxes I can find that say something to the effect that I would like a notice when someone comments on one of my blogs. I do try to go in and check, but once the newer blog is posted, I don’t go back. I just went in to the back of the blog, you know, where the gray-haired dude is standing behind a curtain, pulling levers, pushing buttons, and realized I had a bazillion ‘pending’ comments from people I didn’t know had commented. Sigh.
I offer most humble apologies, and I have approved you all, so you may once again comment and not have to go through such things as being approved. I have gotten a couple of people who phishing or otherwise being inappropriate, and I did not approve them, but reported them (to the man behind the curtain) as spam.
Actually, it’s probably the software, for I truly don’t think it’s my beloved computer. My computer knows how much I love and adore it.
Aggressive Invasive Species:
A friend posted a photo of a Eurasian Collared Dove waiting for the feeder to be filled. A person with a very Euro-centric name responded: “They are a very aggressive and invasive species.” I couldn’t help but laugh. But then I do wear this tee shirt:
I do take my humor where I can find it.
Photos of the Week:
The end of ThymeOur pond with the main pond in the right background
Books of the Week:
Would you believe I’m still reading, haven’t finished a single book!
Movies/TV Reviews of the Week:
Still watching Babylon 5, still on Season One. For those of you unfamiliar with Bab5, I think it’s one of the best SciFi series out there. It takes place on the last of a collection of huge space stations, open to Aliens from all over, as well, of course, to Terrans. Of course, we don’t have Cpt Kirk dashing off to every planet he comes across, because Bab5 is in stationary orbit. In fact, we don’t have Cpt Kirk at all. The mission of Babylon 5 is to promote peace and understanding between all the peoples of space. Takes place is 2258. And we don’t appear to have learned much 😉 However, the Bridge Officers must have gone to the same Officers Training School (OTS) that Kirk and Company attended. I will never understand why the script writers always send the high ranking members of the Bridge Officers (ie Captain, First Mate, etc.) to check out the bad guys—THAT is the job of the Marines! I know, I know. The stories are never about the Marines, only about the Bridge crew. We must have drama over realism. Oh, sigh.
Happy Holidays
No matter which holidays you worship, they probably contain the idea of the giving of gifts. May I remind you that Auntie Lenora is a writer of words, and has books for sale. They make excellent gifts, and are always the correct size. Please click on My Books, above for a list of the books. They are available through the big box store that fits in your computer, the publisher, or your favorite brick and mortar store, though they may have to be ordered.
Whoa, Doat! It looks like Friday was (note that, past tense) our last hot day for a while, maybe even until next summer. This week looks mostly sunny with temps from 81 to 93, with most in the 80s someplace. It’s nice to not just think about cooler weather, but for a while to enjoy it. Until it gets super cold this winter. Actually, I don’t mind the cold either, if I can dress for it, and the dog can go out in it, but that time isn’t here. Yet.
There Are Two Kinds of People
Okay, there are probably several kinds of people, but I believe most people will fit into one or the other category. 1. The LOVE talking to computers and playing games with AI. Many don’t want the personal touch of a human, they want to get in, get out, get back to what they were doing. Or, 2. They hate talking with computers, they want a person who can understand them, hold their had (virtually, if necessary) and take care of business with a smile in their voice, and a nice goodbye well-wish. I’m in the latter category. I hate having to push buttons for this, for that, for anything. When I call a business, I want to hear something like, “Please listen to the following menu as we’ve made a few changes. If you’d like to talk to a living, breathing human, press 1; if you’d like a computer who doesn’t give a frap about you or your piddling problem, press 2.
I hate it when I say I want a representative and the AI says, “Before I connect you, please tell me a little bit about what you want.” So I, being the dumb person I am, say, I need a pin number. “Oh, I can help you. Do you want to cancel your account? Press 1. Do you want to cancel someone else’s account? Press 2. Would you really like to unplug me? Press 3.”
I suppose, another way of saying there are two kinds of people is to say there are old farts and fartesses, and young farts and fartesses. Those of us who grew up when telephone operators were there to help like real people. Those who grew up taking computer classes in the second grade, want to talk to AI.
Then, if you’re a fan of AI, may I recommend a book? I read it 25 or 30 years ago, and am sure I’ve forgotten a lot of it, but I remembered enough that I went looking for it and have a new (used) copy to reread again. Lady El a science fiction novel by Jim Starlin and Diana Graziunas. I had just about given up on the book as the beginning was pretty rough—not the writing, the story line where a little girl (black) was the smartest in her class and was on her way to college in a few years and then her stepdad pimped her out. Uh, no. I don’t need that kind of a story, but I gave it another chapter and BAM!! All that was back story that was necessary, but that wasn’t made clear. Anyhow, she escaped, made her way to NYC, worked at menial jobs, but never THAT job, and spent her spare time in the libraries reading (my kind of gal). When she got her ID card, she signed up to be an organ doner. Yeah, you guessed it, she was shoved between the subway and wall, and was crushed to death. Ewwww. BUT the military was looking for ten good brains, from heads that weren’t damaged.
When she came to she found herself in a computer. The other nine either didn’t survive, or couldn’t handle the new them. But Lady El, she was on an adventure. She could visit any and all libraries in the world. She could read and comprehend books in mere seconds instead of hours. She could get even with her stepfather (stand up and cheer!!), she could go anywhere, and do just about anything. Yep, her death was the beginning of a new and best life ever! The best one she could have ever imagined. If you want a fun book, hit your favorite used bookstore and get Lady El, by Jim Starlin and Diana Graziunas.
Photos of the Week:
I may have put this enthusiastic dabbler in before, but I just love him and his kicking. All the other ducks are much more couth. But this little guy is having FUN!One of the dragonflies. Alas, they are mostly gone now.
I not only finished the four Golgotha books that are out (two more are coming—eventually) I ordered his other two series!
I did buy and read a new chapbook. It’s a small book with about 22 pages, 20 poems in Spanish and English, written by young men between 13-17 years of age who were, at the time of the writing, unaccompanied minors waiting in the Selma Carson Home in Pierce County WA to find out if they could stay or would be shipped back to their home country. Really, they were boys, but their poetry says they are old for their years. My review is at http://lenoragood.blogspot.com. The book is $12.00 including shipping & handling. Buy the book at https://www.collateraljournal.com/community. You’ll be glad you did. These young men have found the beauty in life, the book is full of hope. I hope they all got to stay. We need people like them.
Earworms:
3 hours of Spanish Guitar. Great background music while you rest, read, work.
I have been soooo fortunate since Covid19 came to our world, the only person I knew who died of Covid19 I never met, the husband of a friend of mine. He was one of the first to die of it in Seattle area. Well, my luck has changed. A man I’ve considered a friend since 1967 when we met in the NCO Club at Karlsruhe, Germany died of it—Country Charley Pride.
When I was in the WAC and stationed in Karlsruhe, Germany, during the time of the Viet Nam war (I still have a hard time remembering that Vietnam is now only one word, then it was two) many entertainers came to town to entertain the troops. They were, all of them, appreciated. Some were ex-pats who lived in Europe and came regularly about 4 times a year. I don’t know where Charley Pride lived, I think he was in the States, but he came maybe twice a year.
I often had a perception the others came primarily for the stipend received, and that was OK. But when Charley Pride, the country singer with the permanent suntan came, my perception was he came to entertain us because he truly wanted to be there for our support. He had put his time in the Army, he knew what it was like. He was friendly, he was approachable, and he just seemed to enjoy singing for us. I wasn’t a big fan of country music, but I sure was a big fan of Charley Pride. I have since become a fan of country music. But that’s another story.
I understand this video was recorded a month before he died. It’s delightful. Watch it. Raise a toast to one of the Greats of our time.
Peacock: Still watching Columbo. Still chuckling and laughing. Fun to see so many of the actors I grew up with once again young, and in some cases once again alive. The show has held up well. Started Season 6 yesterday. I actually had never seen episode 1 before, I thought I’d seen them all, several times over. So far, that’s the only one I don’t remember.
Books: Read one, working on a second. To Cipher and to Sing —by Ian Lahey. Boy Howdy! Could I relate to some of this book. The tag line on Amazon is, “The one thing which is worse than watching androids take over your job is having to teach them your job yourself.” Professor Gordon Fairlight is a book nerd, a teaching nerd, and doesn’t have a techie gene in his body. He’s not fond of androids, either. His wife, on the other hand… Lahey writes with humor and believability, and this book is great fun.
The other book I’m reading (almost finished) is Louisiana Hotshot: A New Orleans Murder Myster; Talba Wallis #1—by Julie Smith. So far there are 4 books in this series. A fun story that takes place in New Orleans. The book starts out with an ad in the paper, Wanted: Hotshot PI with near super-human skills. So, of course, our young Ivy League graduate computer genius applied, got the job, and began a new series. A tidbit of trivia, she mentions the Desire line streetcar, immortalized by Tennessee Williams. I’d always thought that streetcar had more to do with the characters than actuality. Nope, it really existed. There really was a Streetcar Named Desire. You can learn the funnest things from books. (If you click on the hot links, there’s a bit about them. The first about T. Williams and the play, the second about the Desire Line.)
Don’t forget, every book I read all the way through, gets reviewed at http://lenoragood.blogspot.com as well as Amazon and Goodreads.
Hack of the times: Wear glasses? I think it was AARP that posted a way to alleviate, if not eliminate, fogged glasses when wearing a mask. It works! Fold a 4-5” piece of tissue a few times, tape inside your mask under the nose area, and voila! no more fog. The tissue is soft and warm and it absorbs the moisture of your breath.
Outro:
Losing Charley Pride hit too close to home. And proves that not all taxpayers get to partake of taxpayer-funded treatment! I’m not going to nag you to wear a mask, socially distance yourself, they aren’t fun. I know. And it’s hard. And there is not instant reward. I know. But I do ask you to wear the mask, socially distant yourself from friends and family, do the hard things now and know you’ve done your part to avoid the hard thing of a funeral for a loved one later. I know most of you, my favorite and gentle readers have not been through military basic/boot camp. Those of us who have, well, perhaps we have a slight edge on you, for we know we could survive basic/boot, therefore we can survive anything, even a mask, socially distancing, staying away from loved ones for the holidays… Please, pretend you’re the avatar you’ve chosen for your favorite game, and you want to do the hard thing for your country and you. Please. Wear a mask, social distance, and do not socialize unless via electronic means. Just until we can get this thing beat back to whatever pit of hell it came from. Oh, I nagged after all, didn’t I? Humble apologies.
Fairwell, Charley Pride. You were a bright star in our sky while you were with us and shall remain a bright star in our lives thanks to modern technology. But you are still missed, greatly missed. Rest in Peace.
You ever utter those words? Write those words? They make me want to jump all over the person who says or writes them, with hob-nail boots! If you really want to thank them, do so. Don’t tell me you want to thank them, just thank them.
“I thank my mother for raising me, my boss for hiring me, my teachers for trying…”
Can you tell that phrase really knocks Auntie Lenora off her nice soft office chair and into a flash mini rage? Of course, if you want to commit murder and mayhem, well, maybe you shouldn’t do that. Leave it to her, she’s probably a better shot than you. (Expert with the M-16. I was asked to be on the Air National Guard Rifle Team, but they wouldn’t buy my practice ammo. Even way back then, it was pricey!)
We all have words and phrases that affect us adversely for any number of reasons or rationales. Another phrase that sets my teeth on edge is, “Me and…” It was ok for the country song, when she sang about “me and Bobby McGee” because in the song she wasn’t too well educated. But it’s not all right for everyday usage. You wouldn’t say, “Me stood on the bridge today.” Would you? I guess if you would, well, what can I possibly say?
I find that phrase mildly acceptable in dialog in a story, provided someone informs the speaker of the correct usage. If you’re of an age, you remember the old tv show, Leave it to Beaver from 1957-1963. When Wally, the Beav, or any of their young friends used a word incorrectly, Mom was quick to remind them of the correct usage. When my kids were young, they were watching reruns, and Wally used a word incorrectly, without thinking, I corrected him. I was echoed by Mom on the tv. Boy Howdy! Were my kids impressed! I was as smart as a tv mom 😉 !
Then, there’s ‘gifting’—I’m going to gift my friend with yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. And my friend says, “I was gifted with…but I can’t use it, so I got permission and I’m gifting it to…” It may be right proper correct grammar, but it sounds funny. Any Grammar Nazi’s want to weigh in on that one? Or, for that matter, any of the ones I’ve mentioned.
Speaking of Grammar Nazi’s, it’s not that I am one. I’m not. And I’ve gotten more or less to the point where there, their, and they’re used improperly don’t do much more than make me wince. I just figure the person is either uneducated, lazy, or dyslexic. (I’m dyslexic, so I try to pay extra special attention to those kinds of words.)
I do, however, have friends who are Grammar Nazis. And you know what? I’m thrilled we’re friends because they will often read my stories and correct my mistrakes. I love those folks. I truly do, they do their best to make my writing if not great, at least acceptable. Hugs to you.
Is alright one word or two? I have a friend who insists it one or the other, and I can never remember. I just tense up when I write it and wonder which it is. How I love Wordhippo.com and Dictionary.com. Years ago, I had a terrible time with lay and lie. My dearly beloved affianced used to pounce every time I used the wrong word. I got to where I would say, “I’m going to go get horizontal on the bed.” Problem solved. Then we broke up, and the problem was not only solved, it disappeared completely. 😉
What are your pet peeves? I know you’ve got them. What words or phrases set your teeth on edge? Use the Comment section and let us know. Please.
Hot Spring at Yellowstone National Park
Entertainment:
Holy Moley, guacamole! I haven’t watched a single thing on tv that wasn’t news, or news related this week. BUT, I have just about finished a quilt. Be sure to tune in next week for a picture of the finished product.
I did finish a two-part workshop on writing ekphrastic poems. An ekphrastic poem is one that uses a piece of art as inspiration. I’ve been writing them for years, and it’s one of my favorite forms. In the meantime, I’ve managed to have two published in the last few days.
See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!
I have almost finished Rage by Bob Woodward. I should have the review posted in the next couple of days.
Outro:
Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! (Some people don’t realize if the elastic isn’t tight enough to keep it over their nose, they can tie a knot at the end of the loop. Feel free to educate them.) And Socially Distance! Your Uncle and your Grampy appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you stop by for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.
THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)
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As of 26 Sep 20, 204,499 Americans have died from Covid19. At 5 seconds to intone each name, and maybe ring a bell, it would take 11 days, 20 hours, 1 minute, 35 seconds to read and tally our loss. At least half would still be alive if people cared about their neighbors and wore masks and the CDC had not been politicized.
…Ruth Bader Ginsburg (aka the Notorious RBG) has died. Age, 87. You all know that. I was too upset to write anything last week, so I’ll write it now, a week after her death. She was, truly, all those things, and she will be sorely missed. Her death may, at this time, bring about the beginning of the end of our country as we know it.
This is an opinion piece. But, what the heck, it’s my blog, so I can write my opinion. (You may counter in the comment section.)
It didn’t take long for the Unholy Swamp Triune to come out and say that they don’t give a rat’s hind end what the American people want, they’re hell-bent-for-leather to name and confirm, a new Supreme before the election. And she’s going to be a “Right to Lifer.” Rules and precedent be damned! Almost three out of four Americans support a woman’s right to control her body. They Unholy Ones don’t. They want to go back in time to the wonderful fiction of Father Knows Best that only existed on television, not in actuality.
And therein lies my angst. Oh, not that they will cheat, that’s a given, but how they have perverted the term “Pro Life/Right to Life.” For the sake of this discussion, I am going to make Right to Life and Pro-Life mean the same thing. These people, all good members of their faith, are NOT Pro Life. They are Pro Birth and Anti-Woman. They want to take all rights away from women, especially where her reproductive life is concerned, because they don’t think women are intelligent enough to think things through. You know, hormones rage and emotions swing, and they have power given by their patriarchal god to rule women and by their god, they’re gonna! After all, if they can keep women pregnant and at home, they won’t take a job from another testosterone poisoned male. And it’s easier to blame a woman than keep their trousers zipped.
I won’t go so far as to say NONE of these Right to Lifers are, but I’ve only met one, and that was years ago, and she put her money where her mouth was! She went to her lawyer, paid to have the papers drawn up, then went to the abortion clinic, talked to the manager in charge, explained what she wanted, and received permission to wait inside and talk to the women seeking treatment. She explained who she was and said if they would carry the baby to term, she would pay all pre-natal costs, delivery costs, etc., and adopt the baby. She showed them the papers, and letters of recommendation that she would make a good mother. She didn’t have any takers, but no one complained to management about her being there. She never adopted (she was single and at that time single women adopting was frowned upon, after all, a baby needs a daddy) but she did take in teens as a foster mother.
Now, I’m Pro Choice or, if you prefer, Pro Life. To me, they are the same thing. Yes, really. The same. I know women who have had abortions, and none chose that option lightly. There were medical reasons, financial reasons, real and solid reasons. Because they had a medical procedure in a safe and sterile environment, many went on to later raise, love, and care for healthy families.
They took care of themselves. They were Pro Life. They made a difficult decision and have lived with it. But they still live. I don’t know any who had an abortion because they got ‘knocked up’ at an inconvenient time.
My mini quilt, Walking the Red Road. (It really is square, the caera wonked it.)
Ladies and Gentlemen, if you don’t want an abortion, then by all means, don’t have one! If your god says it’s wrong to have an abortion, then don’t have one. But the face of your god is not the face of every other woman’s god. And this is NOT a religious country, it is a secular country founded to remain secular with a separation between Church and State. Remember, the world cannot support our current population, and add into that Climate Change, rising seas, and wildfires….
If you are going to vote as a Right to Lifer, then, please, vote for all that entails—good pre- and post-natal care for the mother, good medical and dental coverage for the child until an adult, enough money to have the necessities of life—shelter, food, clothing, education, etc, for that child until s/he is an adult. Don’t say you’re Pro Life when you really only want the woman to have the baby and you don’t care to help out after. That’s not Pro Life. That’s Pro Birth.
Again, I say, if you don’t want an abortion, please, I beg you, don’t have one! But don’t try to force your morality on others, for one day you may be judged by your morality as lived and thought and held in your heart, and you may not like it. One day, these words may appear on your wall, Mene, mene tekel upharsin.
Entertainment:
TCM: I have long said I’d go with any cable company that would let me choose 10 channels and charge me appropriately — Spectrum did. I now have, among other channels, Turner Classic Movies, and on Saturday night I turned it on just as the credits finished for The Red Shoes. The movie came out in 1948, I probably saw it sometime between 1950-1955. It ranked right up there with An Affair to Remember and The Quiet Man in my all-time most loved movies. I’ve seen the latter two several times, sometimes whole movies, usually bits, parts, and pieces. Saturday is the first time I remember seeing The Red Shoes in a reaaaalllllly long time—like since the first time I saw it. Yes, it’s a romantic drama, and I loved it even more now, as an adult, than I did as a kid of 10 or so. I remembered my favorite part, if not exactly the words, the intent. He: Why do you dance? She: Why do you live? I also remember sitting in the theater when it ended thinking that I was a big girl and big girls don’t cry. Well, I didn’t sob out loud. Do I get points for that? Saturday, I sat on my couch and decided it’s perfectly fine for an old Auntie to cry/sniff/sob/tear. I did laugh at the two white males discussing the ending after the end. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t in the studio, or one might be walking funny now. He thought she was somehow weak. Both of them missed what, to me, was so blatantly obvious—she felt pressured to choose between the love of her life, her husband and the love of her living, dancing. It was obvious to the men, of course, that she should choose between marriage and family or singledom and career. How dare she want both? Why, that was/is a privilege reserved for men. /meow/ Not a HEA movie, but, if you get the chance to see it, well worth the 2 hours 13 minutes of your time to watch it. Some absolutely gorgeous ballet! It’s available to rent on Amazon Prime.
Amazon Prime:
IMDB has free (with commercials) tv series. I started watching the old Banacek series, again. Loved that show. We’ll see if it holds up.
Books:
For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!
CORRECTION: Last week I said I had Wyrds by Weld Champneys on my bed to read, I hang my head in unabashed shame, the title is Wirds, and it has now moved to my bedside table to be read randomly just before I turn out the light. A delightful book of poetic humor, review is on my site above.
Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.
Notorious RBG, We Miss You!
Auntie Lenora
The “Red Road” is a metaphor for living a spiritual way of life. Oglala Sioux medicine man and holy man, Black Elk, spoke of the all the people on the red road as being one interconnected circle of people that made a sacred hoop. Only you can walk your journey, but many are on the road. https://www.spirithorsenation.org/the-red-road
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I recently read an article in the Washington Post by Karin Brulliard, that dog-walking may be hazardous for seniors. The study didn’t suggest any reasons but did note the numbers of seniors who are injured, often with broken bones, has risen remarkably. According to the article, and a new study by University of Pennsylvania researchers (co-authored by Dr. Jaimo Ahn) the numbers of broken bones increased “…from 1,671 in 2004 to 4,396 in 2017…” The article went on to state that the reason is unclear, though they do mention that the number of us old farts and fartesses has increased, and we tend to be more active than our predecessors.
People over 65 who fracture hips have a “20 to 30 percent chance of dying within a year” which is higher than having a mild heart attack or mild cancer.
The photo accompanying the article shows a gentleman out walking his dog after an overnight snowfall, with icy sidewalks. I don’t think the higher number can solely be blamed on winter. Though the slickery ice and slush certainly don’t help, and probably contribute highly to the study; however, I think it might be related to something else.
I’ve noticed women often wrap the leash about their hand or wrist versus holding it in their hand. If they do not have superb control, especially voice control, over the dog, and the dog sees a squirrel, or another dog, and bolts, the walker goes down. I had a neighbor who might have been five feet tall, and perchance weighed ninety pounds soaking wet and wearing a wet wool coat, and probably in her seventies at the time, who walked her daughter’s big dog. I don’t remember the breed, but a good eighty pounds, and a sweet dog. Also, he was a dog who didn’t always listen to or process commands. I walked my small dog one day, and Big Dog charged, pulling Granny. I told her to drop the leash, and she couldn’t. It was wrapped around her wrist so she wouldn’t let go of it. Her panic at the situation didn’t help. The dog picked up on that and was sure my wee dog was going to attack.
It all worked out in this case, but I’ve since noticed other people, usually women though not all, who do the same thing. They stick their hand through the loop, and then wrap the leash to get a tight hold on it. Now, if they fall, they would report to the doctor they were “just walking the dog” and he pulled me. I’m willing to bet a fresh batch of biscotti that the doc never asks, “How were you holding the leash? Exactly what happened?”
So, why would someone wrap a leash around their hand or wrist? I can think of a few reasons. Two that jump out at me are if they have neuropathy in their hands, their hands may be numb or too painful to hold something, and wrapping lets them know they know they have a good hold on the leash. Or they may have arthritis in their hands and need to wrap the leash, so they don’t drop it because it’s too painful, or impossible, to wrap fingers around it.
Do I ever wrap the leash around my hand? I try not to. Sometimes I need to short leash my dog, and I hold it, folded, in my hand. I’m considerably bigger and heavier than Sammy Brave Dog, by about 10 times. Should I ever take my sister’s eighty-pound Rottweiler for a walk, I would be certain not to wrap that leash. Quick release is important. I might not let go of the leash, adding my weight to act as a break if he was going after a child, but that would be an option and a pretty fast thought on my part. Then, again, if that child was doing something to make the dog want to go after it, I might drop it (Not!). My little Sammy has caught me when I wasn’t paying attention and was mid-step into a zag, when he jerked to zig. Usually, he’s the one to stop and smell the grass, but every so often, I want to stop and take a photo—he is not as patient with me as I am with him. I’ve been pulled off balance more than once by him, and at my age, well, this old fartess ain’t lookin’ for any more broken bones! I now pay better attention, and don’t wrap the leash.
This is not a dog. This is a coyote. A wild coyote. I named her Mercy for Mercedes Thompson Hauptmann, a human-coyote shapeshifter by our very own local author, Patricia Briggs. I am not stupid enough to put a collar and leash on a coyote, whether real or fiction. I will, however, photograph one if given the opportunity. This photo was taken from a car, out the window, while we were leaving Yellowstone National Park. She patiently sat on the side of the road until we finished with the cameras and drove on, then we saw her in the mirrors as she went up the hill to what we assume were her pups. Note, she had been to the river to drink and eat. You can see the blood on her muzzle if you look close enough.
Entertainment:
Netflix:
Can you believe I haven’t watched a single show on either Netflix? However, I did get my Roku streaming stick and because Spectrum finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I now get 10 channels of my choice, so I have been watching news, etc. that I couldn’t get before. I admit, Friday’s was pretty sad to watch, what with the passing of our beloved RBG. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.
Amazon Prime:
The Scalphunters, 1968 movie starring Burt Lancaster, Shelley Winters, Telly Savalas, and Ossie Davis. I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch this since I know what scalp hunters were, but that is a pretty good cast, so I decided to give it a go. The music was fun, the credits were fun, and it started out fun and I laughed out loud several times through it. Lancaster plays a fur trapper, friendly with (perhaps related to?) the Kiowa. Davis is a slave of the Kiowa. The Kiowa steal Lancaster’s furs and supplies (including booze) and give him Davis. Lancaster doesn’t want him. Lancaster and Davis follow the Kowa to wait until they are drunk and retrieve the packhorse and furs. In the meantime, Savalas and his group of scalp hunters show up, kill the Indians and steal the packhorse and away we go for round two. Shelly Winters, long one of my faves, is marvelous. The ending was good. and, yes, it’s a Western, so of course there are fistfights. And just because it’s a fun fact to know, I’ll pass it along—not all who were scalped died. It depended a lot on how the scalp was taken. If an axe was used, death from a crushed skull was probable, if the scalp was lifted and a “clean” knife used, the person actually stood a good chance of surviving, if he got help and no infection. I had a cousin who was scalped in one of the Indian wars in the Ohio Valley. He survived and lived several more years to die an old man in bed.I\ I assume it was his bed, but I don’t know.
Books:
I just looked at my bed and have 6 books on it I am reading, and a puppy dog who is keeping it warm for me. Not the books, the bed. He doesn’t like books. The books are: Wyrds by Weld Champneys, Willow Springs anthology, Chrysanthemum 2020 Literary Anthology, Before Our Eyes by Eleanor Wilnor, The Vagina Bible by Jen Gunter, MD, and RAGE by Bob Woodword. See, I told you I am an eclectic reader. For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!
Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.
Happy Labor Day. Enjoy the outdoors. But please, enjoy it responsibly.
As you probably know, I follow the blog, Why Evolution Is True by Jerry Coyne. A while back he published a post “Discussion: psychological effects of the pandemic” which I found to be almost, but not totally, how it has affected me. Instead of joining in his discussion, I decided to write my own. And hope that you, Gentle Reader, will consider posting in the comment section how it has, or has not, affected you.
Like Jerry, I too, am more peevish. Peevish about little things I would normally just laugh off. Like people who don’t wear masks. I have a recently discovered underlying health issue, on top of being an old fartess which is enough in my mind, and when I walk Sammy Brave Dog, I am the only one outside wearing a mask, as well as other items of clothing. No one else wears one, which wouldn’t be so bad, but they also don’t socially distance. Perhaps they have no idea how far 6′ is? and of course, they often wish to stop and chat, as do I. One person has informed me she has health issues and can’t wear a mask, and since by knowing what her issue is, I can’t cure her, I haven’t asked. But I am curious what health issues preclude the wearing of a mask. I would think the wearing of a mask would help keep them safer, not make them sicker. But, what do I know?
But the thing that gets my Peeve the most is the lack of human touch. I miss shaking hands, giving/receiving hugs from friends I haven’t seen in a while, or people who really need the touch. (Like me). Had an appointment with a longtime friend and advisor yesterday. For years we started our meetings with a handshake and ended with a hug. Yesterday we maintained our distance and didn’t even bump elbows. We both lamented the loss, but agreed it is the safe way to be. For now. I have read several articles in the past that stated humans need/require a minimum number of touches daily (I think the average number was 15) to maintain good mental health. Unless we’re in a committed relationship, or taking undo chances, we ain’t getting ‘em. It will be interesting to see how we come out of this, eh?
And the inability to comfort, with hugs, the bereaved who have lost loved ones during the pandemic. So many people have had to have private funerals with few, if any, mourners. Funerals are a way for all of us to say good-bye, and grieve our loss at the finality of death. At a time when closeness is called for, no, it is screamed for, it is denied for the greater good. I am not arguing against it, I understand it, and agree/approve it. But that doesn’t lessen the hurt.
Reading. Now reading is something I’ve done for years, I’d rather read than eat (or read AND eat—now that is Heaven!), and I’ve always been an eclectic reader. My reading habit is now different. I have become the Queen of Put-it-down-before-it’s-finished. In the past, if I started a book, I’d usually finish it. Not now. Too many books, too few years left. If the book is a downer, I don’t finish. If it’s an adrenaline gusher, I don’t finish. If it’s something that requires concentration (nonfiction), I probably won’t start it. I love poetry, and that has been my salvation. I have discovered many new-to-me poets for which I shall remain grateful until my final day. And I’m writing more. Fiction, not so much, but poetry, yes joh yes. And my weekly blog. (I am in awe of how often Jerry Coyne posts! I consider myself fortunate to post one a week.)
Are you taking any online courses you wouldn’t normally take? What? Why? I took some webinars on podcasting. Learned a lot. And then, I started working on podcasts, only to discover I not only have allergies but I also have a low-grade asthma, both of which adversely affect my voice—or lack thereof. No podcasts, just the now and then Spoken Word on my website. Hopefully those will bring you a smile, if not an outright chuckle.
So, yes, I understand, relate, and empathize with people who have been adversely affected. As a writer, a reader, and a quilter, all of which are fairly solitary hobbies, the pandemic hasn’t affected me that much, but it has affected me. I am no longer able to meet “the group” for happy hour once a month to eat, drink, and make merry, or book group discussion once a month, or go walking with a stop in a coffee shop to sip and write and or people watch. As much of a “hermit” as I sort of am, I’m a social hermit. And being told I can’t socialize irritates the hell out of me, even though I totally understand and agree with and support it.
What I want for social distancing: (Sea gulls, probably Western Gull and Herring Gull)
Enough of my rantings. What about yours? Let it all out in the comment section below. You’ll feel better. Honest. Trust me.
Entertainment:
Netflix: Lucifer Oh, Auntie Lenora is grumbling! Season 5 of Lucifer premiered the other night, and I settled in to watch all 16 episodes over a two-plus week period, only to discover those sneaky Devils at Netflix released it in two parts. Season 5A and (eventually, at some date to be known at some time in the future) Season 5B, 8 episodes each. Talk about feeling peevish!
A Thousand Goodnights. I’m still enjoying this family drama. It’s slow, easy, and fun. And the scenery is gorgeous. It’s rated Teen, but I can’t think of a teen I’ve ever been or known who would enjoy it as much as the adults. No action, no martial arts, no heavy metal rock n roll. Just a good family drama. Here’s a great review I can’t quibble with: Dramas with a Side of Kimchi — rather like the blog title, too.
Amazon Prime:Wycliff. Did I say something in an earlier post about the endings being chopped? Well, Season 5 has no endings, at least the first few episodes, instead they’ve gone into the long, continuing story, and it’s becoming a bit too much of a soap opera for me. I’ve decided I’m not watching any more. Besides, it was becoming more and more difficult to suspend my disbelief.
Books:
See Rainy Day Reads for book reviews. and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!
This is not a book, but a Brag. Three of my friends and I have poems published in the current issue of Quill and Parchment—Jim Thielman, Mark Fleisher, and Jim Bumgarner. The two Jims and I are members of The Tarweed Poets, and hope to have a book of our poetry out in time for the December Holidays, the working title is Three Tarweeds Speak. Please keep the book in mind for your Winter Gifts. And rest assured, I’ll remind you when it’s available.Are you a Red, White, and Blue Patriot? Show it! Wear your mask. Show you care for your country, your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even the birds in your yard. And y’all come back next week, same bird time, same bird channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.) (And I promise, no birdseed in the biscotti.)
“… this is your friendly political pollster calling. Your opinion matters…”
How many times have you been called by a political pollster? Fifty? Five? Zero? Yeah, me, too. Well, not quite, I was called once, and answered the questions, but I doubt my answers were counted. The pollster was, obviously, calling for a particular person, one I was voting against, and my answers showed my true colors, just as his questions showed his. He even tried to get me to change my mind.
At some point, I began getting online polls from Civiqs.com. I’ve watched them grow through the years. When I’ve contacted them with questions, they’ve always answered and I like to think my emails helped them make the decision to go public with their results.
Their home page is https://civiqs.com and if you’d like to get on their list to take the surveys, go to https://civiqs.com/join-in to sign up, or take the current survey. There are usually about five clear questions, and all are multiple choice. Takes about a minute (or less) to take a survey and submit. I don’t think I’ve ever had more than one survey a week, if that.
Their graphs are easily understood, and if you go to the individual page, they’re broken down by all sorts of interesting groups and subgroups. Don’t just look at the graphs on the survey results page and think you understand them. You don’t. The colors are not party colors but are explained inside once you click on the graph of interest.
I’m rather jaded against most online polls I’ve seen. I fill many of them out, and submit my responses, but the last question is always a variation on the theme of how much money am I willing to give? None (beyond my monthly donation). I know they don’t pay attention because I get follow-ups wanting to know why, when I was personally asked Politician, did I not fill out the questionnaire? Uh, folks, I did, but you don’t care about my answers, you only care about my wallet. And now they want me to endorse their candidate. Uh, what good is my endorsement? Oh. Yeah. I have to PAY in order to endorse one. Yeah. Right. I have NEVER been asked for money by Civiqs. Never. Ever.
Tashiko Akuma Pestini when I asked her a political question in years gone by. Her response, “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, don’t ask such silly questions. Is there food in my dish yet?”
******** FOR SALE********
If anyone in the Richland/Kennewick/Pasco WA area is interested, I have an “almost new” Twin XL box spring, mattress, Hollywood frame, tailored bed skirt (ie, not frilly), mattress pad, two sheet sets, and an electric blanket for sale — all for $150.00. Quite seriously, I doubt the bed has been slept on a total of 6 months. Probably closer to 3. Anyhow, let me know if you’re interested.
*******
Entertainment:
Netflix: Joy of Joys, Lucifer is back, and so far, I’ve been able to hold to the one episode per night. Not sure what happened, they had plenty of time to write and tape this final series, but it seems very loosey goosey to me. They’re all over the place. Still, they did seem to finally remember how to tighten the scripts and story lines. And, joy of joys, Netflix is NOT ending the series at the end of Season Five, they are carrying it over to a Season Six. Oh, for a devilish good time…
A Thousand Goodnights is rated Teen, but seems more Family, to me. It’s a slow, beautiful drama from Taiwan, and the scenery is worth it, if nothing else. I’ve watched two of the ten episodes about two young women, sisters, who are close to each other, and coming of age. The older was adopted. There is humor in it, and I’m pretty sure romance is waiting stage right. I think it is great fun to watch movies/tv from other countries, other cultures, just to do some armchair traveling. No mask required.
Amazon Prime: Still watching Wycliff. I’m now into season four. Don’t know if it’s cutting, or the way the stories have been written, but the end seems chopped in just about all episodes. We find out who done it, but not really the why. It’s like all of a sudden the writer/director realized they were late for their anniversary dinner and had to run. ‘Bye. Or, perchance I’m missing something at the beginning? Then again, it could be a culture difference between British police procedurals and American ones?
Books: Into Gothic Novels? Just read six (condensed). See Rainy Day Reads for reviews. and a bit of snark. I know, you’re surprised that I’d write snark. Of course there had to be snark, because I haven’t read a gothic novel in so many years I can’t remember. but these were actually kind of fun in the Time of Covid19.
Show your patriotism and your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even your pollster. And y’all come back next week, same cat time, same cat channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.)
So much for my great new career as a podcaster. Truly, I had hoped to have fun, and bring some smiles, perchance even chuckles, into your lives. Alas, I fear it ain’t gonna happen as I hoped.
Seems I’ve got allergies. Nothing new, really. I’ve had them since forever. Unfortunately, my Achilles tendon is located in my vocal cords. When I’m around smoke of any kind, for any duration, I lose my voice. Also, certain perfumes cause the voice to take a sudden vacation without any warning. Gone. Poof. No voice. I can barely croak. Or squeak.
And we’ve had fires. Lots of them. Small ones, large ones, near ones, far ones. I live in the Columbia Basin. This basin is a big bowl, and all the smoke from miles arounds falls into our big bowl and stays there for a very long time.
And after this last bout, where I not only lost my voice for a month, this time it was accompanied by pain — felt like my vocal cords were strained, and even attempting to speak hurt like a son of a gun, I came to the realization that I couldn’t in good conscience make podcasts like I want. One must be able to make them and post them on a regular basis.
Oh, what’s a gal gonna do? I had my heart set on doing this as a fun way to get through these madding times. An escape. A short, Coffee Break Escape to share with all my friends both present and those to comer. I took two aspirin, grabbed my cuppa, and thunk and thunk and voila! I came up with a solution. As I can, I shall record my podcasts, as if they were podcasts, but instead, I will post them under the Spoken Word tab above and not send them out to the platform. (I also won’t have to pay for platform use!) Not really what I wanted, but necessity is the mother of strange workarounds. (And hunger is the mother of weird stir-fries—what can I say?)
I can still play with my new podcast mic, and you can still hear me. A win-win, yes? Well, at least for me. 😉 Even though I’ll never get my Star on Hollywood Boulevard with a microphone, I’ll never become an overnight “Divine Miss L” of podcasting fame, I can still dream the impossible dream…. But it was fun while it lasted. And dreams are fun. Though the killing of them is sometimes painful. Especially when it’s some silly thing like reality that steps on them and squishes them flatter than that bug under your shoe!
I feel badly for my young friend, Farris Hallaj who wrote and performed the theme song for my podcasts. I’ll still use it, because it’s fun, but at the same time, not nearly as many people will hear it, unless of course, you enjoy it and send the link to people. Farris can be found on Facebook at Farris Hallaj Music, and on YouTube right here. He is an amazing young man. Please, take a few minutes to listen to some of his music. Especially Louisiana Sun!
This pelican fits my mood perzactaly! If I can’t swim with the podcasting crowd, I’ll head off in my own Spoken Word direction!
Addendum to last week’s Recipe post: For those of you who haven’t tried baking biscotti, I just received notice of this Biscotti Pan from King Arthur Flour. It looks to be wonderful, and I may have to get one, myself. Just for the uniformity of size. And, true to Alton Brown, it can be used for baking cakes, brownies, and whatevers—it’s a multi-tasker. Oooh, Auntie Lenora wants…
Entertainment:
Netflix: Oooh, Auntie Lenora is soooooo frustrated. She started watching yet another Korean drama, Hospital Playlist. Definitely not for the squeamish! Anyhow, there are dramatic events, but also lots of laugh-out-loud moments. We got to a story end, and Auntie Lenora was all set for the next episode when up popped a notice that the next season would premier in 2021. What??? How dare they??? Auntie Lenora is not a happy camper! She’s going to have to watch like a normal person? Weekly episodes?
Hospital Playlist follows five young doctors from their internships to ‘professorship’ in a Korean hospital. Four guys and one gal—neurosurgery, general surgery, pediatric surgery, and ob/gyn. Unlike an American soap opera, this one moves right along, and though there is some blood here and there, nothing like ours of blood and gore upon the floor. Still, if one is squeamish, well, forewarned is forearmed. Now, I have to wait until next year to see what happens next. I never got into Gray’s Anatomy, but think this might be similar but different. Think Gray’s Anatomy, the Musical?
How will the pandemic affect season 2? I’ll let you know sometime next year.
In the meantime, Lucifer’s final season has started. I have every hope of parsing the episodes out to no more than one per night, but, knowing me, I won’t. I’ll binge. He is such eye candy. Talk about impossible dreams! /snicker/ Oh, be still my beating heart. (I have made it through the first 3 episodes at only one per night. It’s not easy.)
Books: Check out Rainy Day Reads for new book reviews since the last post.
Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, your neighbors, your dog, your cat, even your goldfish. And y’all come back next week, same bat time, same bat channel. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be properly socially distanced, so you may remove your mask.)
… since I spend so much time with words—reading them, writing them, listening to them, speaking them (when I have a voice with which to speak)—I’d be fairly conversant in the meanings of them. Well, I am with most of them, but every so often I get to wondering what a particular word means. One I’ve used ever since I learned to speak in moderately coherent sentences, but never really thought of.
Two words and their usage regarding grave sites or other plots of ground, have puzzled me for some time are ‘holy’ or ‘sacred.’ Why have areas of bones and ash been so designated? Who determines if this plot of land is or isn’t holy? The term, ‘Holy Land’ means something very different to me than it possibly means to you. If you follow one of the Judeo-Christian-Muslim faiths (faiths of The Book), it means the middle east—today’s Israel and Palestine. If you follow other faiths, that term probably means other countries, other areas, depending on where your god was born, raised, died, and resurrected. To me, it is any piece of land on which I stand and hear the world go hush, hear the holy song, think the holy thoughts, and know the love of all my relations.* Whether that is desert of New Mexico, the coast of Oregon, the Black Hills of the Dakotas, or the Beaufort Sea in the Arctic. It’s me that makes it a holy land for me, wherever I am when the song, the hush, the thoughts come.
So, back to my question, why are grave sites considered holy, or sacred? Who gives them that designation? Well, thanks to Google, I have an answer. Those words are designations that humans give (not gods) to areas to set them apart, to keep them separate, to honor the dead buried in them. They are set apart in that manner to make it clear that mankind designated them holy, not religion.
I wrote a poem a while back, called Holy Lands (not yet published, but making the rounds), and a couple of people in my poetry group had a hard time accepting that term. To them, the holy lands were where their god was born, lived, died, and resurrected. They could accept the term sacred, and we had a pretty good discussion about it. And yes, it was a good discussion, no raised voices, etc. The poem is still called Holy Lands. I’m in a good group, and their input is valued, and I often make their suggested changes to my work. In this case I believe I used all of their suggestions but that one.
Of course, I now come up with more questions. Below is a photo I took last winter at dawn. I took it from my patio, I heard the song, heard the hush, thought the thoughts, and for a time, I stood in a holy place looking at this holy view. Is my patio holy now? No. But for a moment in time it was. As the Buddhists might say, I was awakened or enlightened at that moment, gazing at the sunrise, the trees, the river. The photo reminds me it happened and can happen again. Awakening or enlightenment is not a once and you’re done happening. It happens and happens again. As the Buddhists also say, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” In other words, life goes on, only awakened you are more in tune with it, the harmony of living on our planet is greater. At least for a while. Because you don’t awake from sleep only once, but every morning, so does enlightenment happen more than once.
*All my relations: Lakota, Mitakuye Oyasin, means All Are Related or All My Relations.
Also, in keeping with today’s subject, I offer another phrase. “Bright eyed and bushy tailed.” Now, where did that one come from? What does it mean? That’s another one I’ve heard, and used, since, well, I could speak. It’s straight out of the fox hunts. A fox whose eyes are dull, whose tail is not groomed and bushy, is not a healthy fox. So, when someone wishes you a good night’s sleep, and that you wake bright eyed and bushy tailed, they are saying they hope you wake well rested and healthy. Who knew?
My Week’s Entertainment:
TV:
Amazon Prime: One of my all-time most favoritest TV shows is Morse. I think I’ve seen them all, some more than once. The other day I realized Amazon Prime has the first six seasons (alas, short seasons of 4 episodes each) of Endeavour. Morse, who never ever used his first name, had one, of course. It was Endeavour. And this series is the prequel to Morse. Endeavour as a young man, just starting out. The cast, the props, etc., are all top drawer. If you haven’t seen it, I heartily recommend it. (I wonder where they found so many actors who still smoke tobacco? Or if those were all fake and CGI? Just watching those smoke-filled rooms, etc., set off my allergies! The wildfires outside didn’t help, either.)
Netflix: 16 episode Korean, good subtitles, It’s Okay Not to be Okay. This was a fun ‘dramedy’ — listed as a Romantic Drama, I found far more laughs in it than drama; however, the drama was intense enough to pull it out of the comedy category. The central protagonists are two brothers, the younger taking care of the older who is on the autism spectrum, and a writer of children’s fairy tales who is, well, hard to like at first, but for good reason. Her mother was a monster, and disappeared when the girl was quite young. The girl wasn’t sure if she was dead or alive. Her mother drove away the one friend the girl had before leaving. The mother of the two boys was killed shortly before the mother left (died?) and the boys took off on their own before the police could separate them and institutionalize the older brother. Sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it? That’s why it’s not a comedy. But it’s full of humor and laughs-out-loud. The older brother is a delight. His world is black or white, and he is honest to a fault—and many laughs. Highly recommended.
Books:
I’m a pretty eclectic reader. I tend to go in streaks and read fiction (prefer happy endings to my escapes) and poetry as my primary choices, but that leaves it wide open. I also read nonfiction, especially essays or biographies. Rather than give you a list of what I’ve read and recommend in the past week, I’ll give you a link to my book blog, Rainy Day Reads. You probably won’t care about all the books, but the list goes back a few years. Prowl around, and if you like some, hit the Follow button and each time I post a new book, you’ll be notified. Or you should be.
Show your love; wear your mask. Show you care for your family, your friends, and your community. Show those nasty old flowers you don’t care for their pollen. And y’all come back next week, same masked time, same masked place. The coffee is always on, the biscotti are home made, and we’ve always got time for a coffee break and a visit. (And, we’ll be socially distanced, so you can remove your mask. 😉
