In an e-mail, my friend Mona Lisa used the word "immanent"; the context of the message made me know that she did not mean to use the words "imminent" or "eminent" but I thought it had to be an error, but how could I doubt her? Why didn't I know "immanent"?
Oh, Sue aren't you the one who says she learns something new every day. File under "comeuppance"!
From Merriam Webster:
IMMANENT: Adjective
1. Inherent, indwelling, spread throughout
2. Being within the limits of possible experience or knowledge. Subjective: taking place within the mind and having no effect outside of it
From Anthony Burgess: "Beauty is not something imposed but something immanent."
Background
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
EAU DE TOILETTE
An acquaintance of mine, whom I have known since 2004, attended school with my youngest brother and she usually asks about him whenever I see her. She is a loud, obnoxious person but I try to be civil to her.
Yesterday, for the fifth time since I've known her, she brought up this story: when she and my brother were in grade school they drew names for a Christmas exchange and my brother had her name. The limit for the exchange presents was $1.00 My brother's gift to her was a bottle of Evening In Paris eau de toilette. Each time she tells the story it is in great detail and she dramatically tells of her embarrassment and humiliation because of receiving "toilet water". She even said that she couldn't believe a parent would have allowed a child to give it. Since the first time of hearing her tell the story, I have allowed her to prattle without comment, but wondered what her purpose was in telling the story if not to cause me embarrassment. As I believe that nobody can embarrass me except myself, her purpose is not successful.
Two years ago we were attending an event and the woman sat down at our table without asking if we were expecting others to sit with us. [Did I already mention she's presumptuous?] During subsequent conversation, a friend at the table mentioned that the food there could not compete with my brother's cooking. After learning that the brother mentioned was her former classmate, the woman interrupted and began telling her "toilet water" story. [Did I already mention she has bad manners?] A friend who was sitting next to me listened to the story and then commented, "Too bad you didn't keep that bottle; it's selling on E-Bay for $50.00!" I doubt that she realized that she'd been put down. [Did I already mention that she's dense?]
When we went through the buffet line the friend said they were going to sit at another table because the woman was, to use the friend's word, "insufferable". I said to our friend, "Fifty dollars? Really? It's selling for that much?" He laughed and said, "Well, maybe $10.00!"
Last year, at another gathering, she brought up the story again. After her telling the story, another friend said, "It's too bad you didn't know about the strengths of fragrances or you would really have appreciated it." She looked dumbfounded and then asked what that meant and the friend explained that perfume had the greatest strength and next was eau de toilette with cologne being the weakest. The acquaintance responded by saying that it was "toilet water" and the friend patiently explained that although "toilet water" was the literal translation, in French toilette didn't mean a commode. [Did I already mention she's dumb?] The friend continued, "I'll bet it had eau de toilette on the label." I don't think she realized that she had been put down again.
When she told the story AGAIN last night another friend asked, "Did you write a thank-you card for such a nice present?"
With friends like these I don't even need to comment to her.
Today, when I told my brother about the latest conversation he said, "By the way, it was you who bought that Evening In Paris for me to give to her." I said, "Well, if she tells it again that will be my coup de grace to tell her that!" He said, "You know that'll be the same as saying eau de toilettee to her!"
Yesterday, for the fifth time since I've known her, she brought up this story: when she and my brother were in grade school they drew names for a Christmas exchange and my brother had her name. The limit for the exchange presents was $1.00 My brother's gift to her was a bottle of Evening In Paris eau de toilette. Each time she tells the story it is in great detail and she dramatically tells of her embarrassment and humiliation because of receiving "toilet water". She even said that she couldn't believe a parent would have allowed a child to give it. Since the first time of hearing her tell the story, I have allowed her to prattle without comment, but wondered what her purpose was in telling the story if not to cause me embarrassment. As I believe that nobody can embarrass me except myself, her purpose is not successful.
Two years ago we were attending an event and the woman sat down at our table without asking if we were expecting others to sit with us. [Did I already mention she's presumptuous?] During subsequent conversation, a friend at the table mentioned that the food there could not compete with my brother's cooking. After learning that the brother mentioned was her former classmate, the woman interrupted and began telling her "toilet water" story. [Did I already mention she has bad manners?] A friend who was sitting next to me listened to the story and then commented, "Too bad you didn't keep that bottle; it's selling on E-Bay for $50.00!" I doubt that she realized that she'd been put down. [Did I already mention that she's dense?]
When we went through the buffet line the friend said they were going to sit at another table because the woman was, to use the friend's word, "insufferable". I said to our friend, "Fifty dollars? Really? It's selling for that much?" He laughed and said, "Well, maybe $10.00!"
Last year, at another gathering, she brought up the story again. After her telling the story, another friend said, "It's too bad you didn't know about the strengths of fragrances or you would really have appreciated it." She looked dumbfounded and then asked what that meant and the friend explained that perfume had the greatest strength and next was eau de toilette with cologne being the weakest. The acquaintance responded by saying that it was "toilet water" and the friend patiently explained that although "toilet water" was the literal translation, in French toilette didn't mean a commode. [Did I already mention she's dumb?] The friend continued, "I'll bet it had eau de toilette on the label." I don't think she realized that she had been put down again.
When she told the story AGAIN last night another friend asked, "Did you write a thank-you card for such a nice present?"
With friends like these I don't even need to comment to her.
Today, when I told my brother about the latest conversation he said, "By the way, it was you who bought that Evening In Paris for me to give to her." I said, "Well, if she tells it again that will be my coup de grace to tell her that!" He said, "You know that'll be the same as saying eau de toilettee to her!"
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
QUINCY'S DESCENDANTS
What kind of person would choose a career dealing with naked, lifeless bodies?
Our favorites television coroners:
Kurt Fuller as Dr. Woody Strode on Psych. (It's practically enough that he's named Woody Strode).
Jane Curtin as Dr. Joanne Webster on Unforgettable
David McCallum as Donald "Ducky" Mallard on NCIS
Tamara Tunie as Dr. Melinda Warner on Law and Order SVU
Khandi Alexander as Dr. Alex Woods on CSI Miami
Michelle Forbes as Dr. Julianna Cox on Homicide: Life On The Street
Elizabeth Rogers as Dr. Leslie Hendrix on Law And Order
Dana Delaney as Dr. Megan Hunt on Body of Proof
Jeri Ryan as Dr. Kate Murphy on Body Of Proof (hit the jackpot with two on the same show)
Robert David Hall as Doc Robbins on CSI
Robert Joy as Dr. Sid Hammerback on CSI New York
I didn't think any of these could be topped until I watched Longmire, which we binge-watched from Netflix. The coroner, Dr. Bloomfield, is played by Kenneth Choi. The character is described on the website as being "half-Japanese and half-Jewish" and "ruggedly handsome"; I believe that the name Choi is either Chinese or Korean, but of course that would not prevent his playing a half-Japanese person. The character chews tobacco and is constantly spitting tobacco juice into a cup, just like real tobacco-chewers.
I asked, "Is that expectorating kosher?" My brother quipped, "As long as it doesn't contain MSG." Oh, cross-ethnic humor is so difficult to translate. My favorite cross-ethnic jokes are:
SAMMY DAVIS: The only Jew with Sickle-Cell Anemia.
SAMMY DAVIS: The only black with Tay-Sachs Disease.
Monday, November 27, 2017
PORCUPINE PARABLE
This parable is worth sharing.
Have you ever seen a baby porcupine? I would pass it along just to show the pictures of the baby porcupine!
PARABLE OF THE PORCUPINE
It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold that year. The porcupines, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep warm. This way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions. After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their companions or disappear from the earth. Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. They learned to live with the little wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the warmth that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.
Moral of the story: the best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person's good qualities.
The real moral of the story: LEARN TO LIVE WITH THE PRICKS IN YOUR LIFE.
Have you ever seen a baby porcupine? I would pass it along just to show the pictures of the baby porcupine!
PARABLE OF THE PORCUPINE
It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold that year. The porcupines, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep warm. This way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their closest companions. After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their companions or disappear from the earth. Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. They learned to live with the little wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the warmth that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.
Moral of the story: the best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other person's good qualities.
The real moral of the story: LEARN TO LIVE WITH THE PRICKS IN YOUR LIFE.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
NATIONAL COOKIE DAY
Today is NATIONAL COOKIE DAY. I'll be making preparations to make cookies for the Fayette County Historical Society's Annual Cookie Sale The sale will be held on December 2 at the Fayette County Museum. Come support the fundraiser and enjoy baked goods from numerous Fayette County bakers.
When I was thirteen, my cousin's wife gave me my first cookbook which was Betty Crocker's Cooky Book. I often wondered about the spelling--cooky--rather than cookie.
That summer I made every cookie from the recipes in the book, including unusual ones such as "jumbles" and "hermits" but the favorite one enjoyed by my discerning family was snickerdoodles. In the intervening years I made them so often they became known as "Suzydoodles", my first "signature" dish!
SUZYDOODLES
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup Crisco
2 eggs
2 3/4 cups Gold Medal all purpose flour
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sugar mixed with 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
Cream together 1 1/2 cups sugar, butter, and Crisco. Add eggs, one at a time, and mix. Sift flour, cream of tartar, baking powder, and salt together and add to the sugar, butter, and Crisco mixture. Shape dough into 1 1/4-inch balls. Roll the balls in the cinnamon-sugar mixture, coating well. Place the balls 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes until done. Remove to wire rack.
Delicious.
Saturday, November 25, 2017
MEDITATION
Do I really believe the John Donne Meditation I have quoted so self-righteously since high school? Obviously not, as a recent death does not "diminish" me. My own hypocrisy is slapping me in the face, but I cannot think of a single redeeming quality the deceased had.
When I die, I want somebody to care that I died. A person does need to live his/her life in a manner so that, at least somebody cares.
JOHN DONNE MEDITATION
XVII. MEDITATION
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
When I die, I want somebody to care that I died. A person does need to live his/her life in a manner so that, at least somebody cares.
JOHN DONNE MEDITATION
XVII. MEDITATION
PERCHANCE he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that. The church is Catholic, universal, so are all her actions; all that she does belongs to all. When she baptizes a child, that action concerns me; for that child is thereby connected to that body which is my head too, and ingrafted into that body whereof I am a member. And when she buries a man, that action concerns me: all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness. There was a contention as far as a suit (in which both piety and dignity, religion and estimation, were mingled), which of the religious orders should ring to prayers first in the morning; and it was determined, that they should ring first that rose earliest. If we understand aright the dignity of this bell that tolls for our evening prayer, we would be glad to make it ours by rising early, in that application, that it might be ours as well as his, whose indeed it is. The bell doth toll for him that thinks it doth; and though it intermit again, yet from that minute that that occasion wrought upon him, he is united to God. Who casts not up his eye to the sun when it rises? but who takes off his eye from a comet when that breaks out? Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himself out of this world?
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. Neither can we call this a begging of misery, or a borrowing of misery, as though we were not miserable enough of ourselves, but must fetch in more from the next house, in taking upon us the misery of our neighbours. Truly it were an excusable covetousness if we did, for affliction is a treasure, and scarce any man hath enough of it. No man hath affliction enough that is not matured and ripened by and made fit for God by that affliction. If a man carry treasure in bullion, or in a wedge of gold, and have none coined into current money, his treasure will not defray him as he travels. Tribulation is treasure in the nature of it, but it is not current money in the use of it, except we get nearer and nearer our home, heaven, by it. Another man may be sick too, and sick to death, and this affliction may lie in his bowels, as gold in a mine, and be of no use to him; but this bell, that tells me of his affliction, digs out and applies that gold to me: if by this consideration of another's danger I take mine own into contemplation, and so secure myself, by making my recourse to my God, who is our only security.
Friday, November 24, 2017
TETRIS
From The Urban Dictionary:
THANKSGIVING TETRIS
The annual act of rearranging your refrigerator in order to accommodate all of your Thanksgiving leftovers.
Girlfriend: "Ugh, the fridge is completely full of our regular food. I don't know how we're ever going to cram all of these leftovers in here."
Boyfriend: "Looks like it's time for a round of Thanksgiving Tetris! Here, take this milk carton and hand me those yams."
Reading this, I had no idea what "tetris" meant. I yelled at Les, "Hey, do you know what TETRIS is?" He answered, "It's some kind of old video game."
I said, "Oh, NOW I get it!" Our refrigerator is full. Boy, am I thankful for the extra refrigerator in the garage.
I seldom eat leftovers, but I actually look forward to leftovers from Thanksgiving. I have an extraordinary amount of leftover turkey this year because I bought a small turkey to boil to make broth for the noodles (turkey was cheaper than chicken). Les sliced off the breast to save for another dinner.
I'll make turkey carcass soup and our all-time favorite: turkey croquettes.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
JFK
It's been fifty-four years since the death of President Kennedy and I still mourn for what might have been.
See my bittersweet article below from Sue's News from 2010:
NOT MEETING JFK
The only time I ever skipped school was in 1960, to go to London, Ohio, as Senator John F. Kennedy was supposed to be in a motorcade on his way to Columbus.
When we got there the motorcade had already passed. Whoever heard of a political event being ahead of schedule? When I returned to school, all was forgiven because Mr. Kelley was a Democrat and he excused me.
Watching the results of the election, President Kennedy was quoted as saying, "Ohio--where I get the warmest welcome--and the fewest votes." I was passionate about the election and spent every moment I could "campaigning" for JFK. There is no way to ever capture the passion felt of young love, or young politics.
One of the saddest realizations--and a defining moment in my life--was discovering all of the anti-Catholic sentiment in my county. My best friend and I would go around the county with her mother, gathering up all of the anti-Catholic literature we could find and destroying it. At that time, there were phone booths on nearly every corner in Washington C.H. and there were always pamphlets left there. They were also all around at Downtown Drug and Pensyl's and all other businesses of the John Birch Society followers. I was so naive that I asked Mr. Pensyl if he knew who had left those disgraceful pamphlets. He told me to leave the store. My friend's mother quit going to Dr. Binzel when she saw those flyers there. In the remainder of the time that Pensyl's and Downtown Drug were there, I never again entered the buildings. That is the main reason that we started shopping out of town. My friend has kept one of those vicious pamphlets framed on her wall with the note, "LEST WE FORGET!"
At a class reunion, two of my classmates and I were discussing JFK and how important he was in our lives. Then something peculiar occurred--everybody there said how they had been for Senator Kennedy--but I knew better because Mr. Kelley had conducted a mock election in our Government class. I spoke up and said, "I remember the mock election and there were only FOUR votes for Kennedy and the rest were for Nixon." Mike laughed and told all of them that it was true. I then proceeded to tell WHO in our class had voted for Kennedy: Mike, Bob, Don, and myself. I took out my collection of senior photos and inscribed on the back of the pictures of Mike, Bob, and Don were references to our being Democrats.
As my brother Norman said, "I can never find anybody NOW who admits he/she voted for Nixon!"
See my bittersweet article below from Sue's News from 2010:
NOT MEETING JFK
The only time I ever skipped school was in 1960, to go to London, Ohio, as Senator John F. Kennedy was supposed to be in a motorcade on his way to Columbus.
When we got there the motorcade had already passed. Whoever heard of a political event being ahead of schedule? When I returned to school, all was forgiven because Mr. Kelley was a Democrat and he excused me.
Watching the results of the election, President Kennedy was quoted as saying, "Ohio--where I get the warmest welcome--and the fewest votes." I was passionate about the election and spent every moment I could "campaigning" for JFK. There is no way to ever capture the passion felt of young love, or young politics.
One of the saddest realizations--and a defining moment in my life--was discovering all of the anti-Catholic sentiment in my county. My best friend and I would go around the county with her mother, gathering up all of the anti-Catholic literature we could find and destroying it. At that time, there were phone booths on nearly every corner in Washington C.H. and there were always pamphlets left there. They were also all around at Downtown Drug and Pensyl's and all other businesses of the John Birch Society followers. I was so naive that I asked Mr. Pensyl if he knew who had left those disgraceful pamphlets. He told me to leave the store. My friend's mother quit going to Dr. Binzel when she saw those flyers there. In the remainder of the time that Pensyl's and Downtown Drug were there, I never again entered the buildings. That is the main reason that we started shopping out of town. My friend has kept one of those vicious pamphlets framed on her wall with the note, "LEST WE FORGET!"
At a class reunion, two of my classmates and I were discussing JFK and how important he was in our lives. Then something peculiar occurred--everybody there said how they had been for Senator Kennedy--but I knew better because Mr. Kelley had conducted a mock election in our Government class. I spoke up and said, "I remember the mock election and there were only FOUR votes for Kennedy and the rest were for Nixon." Mike laughed and told all of them that it was true. I then proceeded to tell WHO in our class had voted for Kennedy: Mike, Bob, Don, and myself. I took out my collection of senior photos and inscribed on the back of the pictures of Mike, Bob, and Don were references to our being Democrats.
As my brother Norman said, "I can never find anybody NOW who admits he/she voted for Nixon!"
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
FIELDS OF GOLD, KWAN STYLE
I have been a fan of figure skating since I was a child. My earliest memory of skating is of seeing Tenley Albright winning the 1956 Olympics gold medal.. Although I like pairs and ice dancing, the male and female singles events are my favorites. Seeing the American women, has always given the most thrilling victories. I vividly recall Tenley Albright, Carol Heiss, Peggy Fleming, Dorothy Hamill, Kristi Yamiguchi, Tara Lipinski, and Sara Hughes winning the gold medals.
I have Peggy Fleming and Kristi Yamiguchi Christmas ornaments adorning the sports section of my Christmas tree (yes, I have a sports section on the tree!), alongside Mohammed Ali, Jackie Robinson, Satchel Paige, and Jeff Gordon. I wonder why there aren't other ornaments available of the other skating stars, particularly Dorothy Hamill, because, as I recall, she was extremely popular, having a hairdo and skating term ("Hamill camel") named for her.
Although I have never donned a pair of skates, I know skating moves when I see them executed. I especially like the ones named for people: Lutz, Axel, Camel, Ina Bauer, Salchow, Walley, Boitano, and Biellmann. Many moves are ballet terms such as arabesque. I love to see twizzles, quads, laybacks, cantilevers, and hydroblading executed. I have seen few back flips performed since the heyday of Scott Hamilton.
Before the current scoring system I could be quite accurate in judging 0 to 6. The current judging system is probably fairer, less subjective, and more technical, but not as thrilling as seeing "all sixes" as in the old days.
I have Peggy Fleming and Kristi Yamiguchi Christmas ornaments adorning the sports section of my Christmas tree (yes, I have a sports section on the tree!), alongside Mohammed Ali, Jackie Robinson, Satchel Paige, and Jeff Gordon. I wonder why there aren't other ornaments available of the other skating stars, particularly Dorothy Hamill, because, as I recall, she was extremely popular, having a hairdo and skating term ("Hamill camel") named for her.
Although I have never donned a pair of skates, I know skating moves when I see them executed. I especially like the ones named for people: Lutz, Axel, Camel, Ina Bauer, Salchow, Walley, Boitano, and Biellmann. Many moves are ballet terms such as arabesque. I love to see twizzles, quads, laybacks, cantilevers, and hydroblading executed. I have seen few back flips performed since the heyday of Scott Hamilton.
Before the current scoring system I could be quite accurate in judging 0 to 6. The current judging system is probably fairer, less subjective, and more technical, but not as thrilling as seeing "all sixes" as in the old days.
One of my favorite skaters was Nancy Kwan and one of the most beautiful performances I ever saw was of her skating in an exhibition after the Olympics. Although she did not win the gold that year, she wore a gold outfit and skated to a recording of Fields Of Gold by Eva Cassidy. See Nancy's performance and listen to Eva.
Monday, November 20, 2017
FIELDS OF GOLD
My favorite tree--the ginkgo--has shed its leaves and the yard is a field of gold. Looking out the window, I began singing Fields of Gold, substituting "ginkgo" rather than Sting's intended "barley".
My brother said, "You know, lying in the golden barley sounds much more entrancing rather than lying in the ginkgo." I answered, "The ginkgo would smell so much better." He wondered, "Where would you find a field of barley to check?"
I realized that I knew little about barley, other than it is very healthful and I like it in soup. After reading several sites about barley, I plan to add more barley dishes to our menus, but definitely not lie in it.
Listen to Sting:
"Will you stay with me, will you be my love?
Among the fields of barley?
We'll fight the sun in his jealous sky,
As we lie in fields of gold."
My brother said, "You know, lying in the golden barley sounds much more entrancing rather than lying in the ginkgo." I answered, "The ginkgo would smell so much better." He wondered, "Where would you find a field of barley to check?"
I realized that I knew little about barley, other than it is very healthful and I like it in soup. After reading several sites about barley, I plan to add more barley dishes to our menus, but definitely not lie in it.
Listen to Sting:
"Will you stay with me, will you be my love?
Among the fields of barley?
We'll fight the sun in his jealous sky,
As we lie in fields of gold."
Sunday, November 19, 2017
GRAUPEL
Recently, on a Columbus weather report, the meteorologist described graupel as "the wintry precipitation term you've never heard of" and told that it is also known as "soft hail" and "snow pellets".
Although I have seen graupel, it is indeed a new word for me. The National Weather Service (see chart below) defines graupel as "small pellets of ice created when super-cooled water droplets coat (or rime), a snowflake". Graupel pellets are cloudy or white, not clear like sleet.
Although I have seen graupel, it is indeed a new word for me. The National Weather Service (see chart below) defines graupel as "small pellets of ice created when super-cooled water droplets coat (or rime), a snowflake". Graupel pellets are cloudy or white, not clear like sleet.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
BREAKING AWAY REDUX
Mentioning the movie Breaking Away in the Eenie Foods article, I recalled the following article from Sue's News in 2010:
BREAKING AWAY
On an airplane trip my seat mate and I began talking; we learned that we both loved movies.
He asked if I had seen the movie Breaking Away and I answered that it was on my Top Ten List for the year. He asked if I remembered the scene with the bicycle following behind a semi. I answered, "You mean the Peterbilt truck?" He asked, "You noticed WHAT kind of truck? I laughed and said, "I BUILD trucks!" He asked, "Did you notice WHAT kind of bicycle?" I said, "I thought it was an Italian one." He laughed and said, "I DESIGNED that bicycle!" He also told me that he was a technical adviser on the movie. I told him that I'd always loved the movie's tag line: "Somewhere between growing up and settling down.".
If you have never watched the movie, it is worth renting or you can borrow it from me. It's a coming-of-age story set in Bloomington, Indiana, where the local kids, called the "Cutters" (because of the limestone quarries there), are in competition with the Indiana University bicycling team in a bicycle race called the Little 500. The hero, Dave, is completely enamored of the Italian bicycle racing team and pretends he's Italian. In rankings of "sports movies" this gem is always ranked in the Top 10.
My fellow passenger and I discussed the various "continuity" problems we had noticed in the movie and he and I became very competitive in naming them:
MINE: The scene where Dave is drafting the truck, he passes fields of corn at least 6' tall; as the Little 500 is held in early spring, it's doubtful the corn in Indiana would've been that tall.
HIS: In the Little 500 race the bicycles are single-speed with a coaster brake and small gear wheel on the rear hub. In close-ups the upper and lower halves of the chain are parallel.
MINE: A microphone was visible when Dave was talking to his parents in the dining room.
HIS: When Dave was drafting behind the semi, his bike is on the small chain-ring and he is traveling at more than 50 mph. An earlier shot shows him in the large chain-ring behind the semi.
MINE: After falling from his bike, Dave's shirt is dirty, but when he finishes minutes later, it is clean.
HIS: When passing the semi, the entire crew is reflected in the truck's bumper.
MINE: After Dave shaves his legs, he is at the quarry later with hairy legs.
HIS: When Dave first collides with another bike during the race, he has blood and dirt on his leg; when he gets into the pit area there's no dirt or blood on his leg.
I told him that since he had designed the bicycle, he had a "TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE" over me.
We then repeated some of our favorite lines from the movie:
MINE: When Dave's mother serves zucchini and his dad said he didn't want any "Eenie" food. She said she got it at the A and P and he said "I know Eenie food when I hear it; zucchini, linguine, fettuccine. I want American food like French fries."
HIS: When Cyril asked Dave if he was really going to shave his legs and Dave said "Certo; all the Italians do it." and Mike answered that the Italian women didn't shave theirs.
MINE: When Dave's dad says, "I don't care if the second coming's coming!"
MINE: When Dave genuflects his mother said, "Dave, this doesn't mean you're turning Catholic, does it?"
He said I had the "TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE" over him on dialogue.
BREAKING AWAY
On an airplane trip my seat mate and I began talking; we learned that we both loved movies.
He asked if I had seen the movie Breaking Away and I answered that it was on my Top Ten List for the year. He asked if I remembered the scene with the bicycle following behind a semi. I answered, "You mean the Peterbilt truck?" He asked, "You noticed WHAT kind of truck? I laughed and said, "I BUILD trucks!" He asked, "Did you notice WHAT kind of bicycle?" I said, "I thought it was an Italian one." He laughed and said, "I DESIGNED that bicycle!" He also told me that he was a technical adviser on the movie. I told him that I'd always loved the movie's tag line: "Somewhere between growing up and settling down.".
If you have never watched the movie, it is worth renting or you can borrow it from me. It's a coming-of-age story set in Bloomington, Indiana, where the local kids, called the "Cutters" (because of the limestone quarries there), are in competition with the Indiana University bicycling team in a bicycle race called the Little 500. The hero, Dave, is completely enamored of the Italian bicycle racing team and pretends he's Italian. In rankings of "sports movies" this gem is always ranked in the Top 10.
My fellow passenger and I discussed the various "continuity" problems we had noticed in the movie and he and I became very competitive in naming them:
MINE: The scene where Dave is drafting the truck, he passes fields of corn at least 6' tall; as the Little 500 is held in early spring, it's doubtful the corn in Indiana would've been that tall.
HIS: In the Little 500 race the bicycles are single-speed with a coaster brake and small gear wheel on the rear hub. In close-ups the upper and lower halves of the chain are parallel.
MINE: A microphone was visible when Dave was talking to his parents in the dining room.
HIS: When Dave was drafting behind the semi, his bike is on the small chain-ring and he is traveling at more than 50 mph. An earlier shot shows him in the large chain-ring behind the semi.
MINE: After falling from his bike, Dave's shirt is dirty, but when he finishes minutes later, it is clean.
HIS: When passing the semi, the entire crew is reflected in the truck's bumper.
MINE: After Dave shaves his legs, he is at the quarry later with hairy legs.
HIS: When Dave first collides with another bike during the race, he has blood and dirt on his leg; when he gets into the pit area there's no dirt or blood on his leg.
I told him that since he had designed the bicycle, he had a "TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE" over me.
We then repeated some of our favorite lines from the movie:
MINE: When Dave's mother serves zucchini and his dad said he didn't want any "Eenie" food. She said she got it at the A and P and he said "I know Eenie food when I hear it; zucchini, linguine, fettuccine. I want American food like French fries."
HIS: When Cyril asked Dave if he was really going to shave his legs and Dave said "Certo; all the Italians do it." and Mike answered that the Italian women didn't shave theirs.
MINE: When Dave's dad says, "I don't care if the second coming's coming!"
MINE: When Dave genuflects his mother said, "Dave, this doesn't mean you're turning Catholic, does it?"
He said I had the "TECHNICAL ADVANTAGE" over him on dialogue.
Friday, November 17, 2017
14 BOXES
In yesterday's article I referenced that I had 14 boxes of different pasta in my cupboard.
The following is from Sue's News 2010:
ORECCHIETTE
When I was telling Agnes, a fellow Water Aerobics member, that I wanted orecchiette but could not find any locally, she told me that she had some at home and she would bring it to me. At the next class, she gave me an unopened package of orecchiette. Agnes is of Italian descent and she told me that orecchiette means "little ears" in Italian.
I told Agnes that I had quite a number of different pastas in my cupboard and I counted them: spaghetti; macaroni, farfalle, penne rigate, rigatoni, mostaccioli, fettuccine, canneloni, rotini, rainbow rotini, trucioli, ditalini, pasta rings, and stars.
She asked why I had so many and I told her I make a pasta dish once a week because cooked tomatoes are heart-healthy products and although all the pastas made from semolina, the taste is different because of the absorbency of the different shapes of the different pastas.
I realized that I have all those pastas because I could remember my mother telling, how, during the Depression, she had gotten some macaroni and she had to pick out the "weevils" to be able to cook it and that's all that she and my brother Bode had to eat for the day. I oftentimes say that although I hadn't actually lived during the Depression, I felt as if I did because I heard about it every day.
I do tend to go overboard; Les will make a list of what NOT to buy until we have room for it. When I brought the orecchiette home, he wailed, "ENOUGH ALREADY; we have enough pasta for 10 years!"
The following is from Sue's News 2010:
ORECCHIETTE
When I was telling Agnes, a fellow Water Aerobics member, that I wanted orecchiette but could not find any locally, she told me that she had some at home and she would bring it to me. At the next class, she gave me an unopened package of orecchiette. Agnes is of Italian descent and she told me that orecchiette means "little ears" in Italian.
I told Agnes that I had quite a number of different pastas in my cupboard and I counted them: spaghetti; macaroni, farfalle, penne rigate, rigatoni, mostaccioli, fettuccine, canneloni, rotini, rainbow rotini, trucioli, ditalini, pasta rings, and stars.
She asked why I had so many and I told her I make a pasta dish once a week because cooked tomatoes are heart-healthy products and although all the pastas made from semolina, the taste is different because of the absorbency of the different shapes of the different pastas.
I realized that I have all those pastas because I could remember my mother telling, how, during the Depression, she had gotten some macaroni and she had to pick out the "weevils" to be able to cook it and that's all that she and my brother Bode had to eat for the day. I oftentimes say that although I hadn't actually lived during the Depression, I felt as if I did because I heard about it every day.
I do tend to go overboard; Les will make a list of what NOT to buy until we have room for it. When I brought the orecchiette home, he wailed, "ENOUGH ALREADY; we have enough pasta for 10 years!"
Thursday, November 16, 2017
EENIE FOODS
A client said that he'd had a delicious meal the previous evening and that there were leftovers in the refrigerator and he would like to have the same for lunch. I asked what it was and he said, "It was kinda like spaghetti, only thinner; something with Alfredo sauce."
I asked, "Angel hair?" He answered, "No, that's not it!"
I continued, "Spaghettini, Spaghettoni?" He answered, "No, it's not a spaghetti name, but I'll know it if you say it." I said, "Canalini, Fedelini, Bucetini, Cappelini."
He said, "No, that's not it!" I kept guessing: "Bigoli, Vermicelli, Bavette." He replied, "No, that's not it."
Finally, I said, "I'll go look in the fridge!"
I went to his refrigerator. It was LINGUINE! I said, "Oh, that's flat like trenette and fettuccine, NOT like spaghetti." He asked, "How do you know so many pastas?" I said, "Well, I have 14 different boxes of pasta in my pantry with different shapes and sizes." He said, "You know how many boxes you have?", he asked, with a note of disbelief. I told him I had counted them recently because of another conversation about pasta.
I giggled to myself, remembering a scene from one of my favorite movies Breaking Away:
The movie centers around a group of friends who enter a bicycle race in Bloomington, Indiana, and one of the boys is obsessed with everything Italian and his mother accommodates him by cooking Italian meals. His father reacts with this marvelous speech:
"I know I-tey food when I hear it; it's all them eenie foods--zucchini, linguine and fettuccine. I want some American food, dammit, I want French fries."
As we fix pasta at least once a week, Les or I will invariably enact the following shtick: one will mention "eenie food" and the other will say, "I want American food.....".
I asked, "Angel hair?" He answered, "No, that's not it!"
I continued, "Spaghettini, Spaghettoni?" He answered, "No, it's not a spaghetti name, but I'll know it if you say it." I said, "Canalini, Fedelini, Bucetini, Cappelini."
He said, "No, that's not it!" I kept guessing: "Bigoli, Vermicelli, Bavette." He replied, "No, that's not it."
Finally, I said, "I'll go look in the fridge!"
I went to his refrigerator. It was LINGUINE! I said, "Oh, that's flat like trenette and fettuccine, NOT like spaghetti." He asked, "How do you know so many pastas?" I said, "Well, I have 14 different boxes of pasta in my pantry with different shapes and sizes." He said, "You know how many boxes you have?", he asked, with a note of disbelief. I told him I had counted them recently because of another conversation about pasta.
I giggled to myself, remembering a scene from one of my favorite movies Breaking Away:
The movie centers around a group of friends who enter a bicycle race in Bloomington, Indiana, and one of the boys is obsessed with everything Italian and his mother accommodates him by cooking Italian meals. His father reacts with this marvelous speech:
"I know I-tey food when I hear it; it's all them eenie foods--zucchini, linguine and fettuccine. I want some American food, dammit, I want French fries."
As we fix pasta at least once a week, Les or I will invariably enact the following shtick: one will mention "eenie food" and the other will say, "I want American food.....".
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
THE REASONS WHY
From The Huffington Post:
In recent weeks, scores of men and women have
come forward with stories of facts of sexual violence
perpetrated by prominent people. Allegations against
Harvey Weinstein opened the
floodgates; now actor Kevin Spacey, comedian
Louis C.K., Alabama senate candidate Roy Moore
and others have also now joined that ignominious list.
In recent weeks, scores of men and women have
come forward with stories of facts of sexual violence
perpetrated by prominent people. Allegations against
Harvey Weinstein opened the
floodgates; now actor Kevin Spacey, comedian
Louis C.K., Alabama senate candidate Roy Moore
and others have also now joined that ignominious list.
On Saturday, Roy Moore defended himself against
allegations of sexual misconduct by ― surprise,
surprise ―attacking his victim. In defense of himself,
he said, “To think that grown women would wait
40 years... to bring charges is absolutely unbelievable.”
See complete article below:
REASONS WHY
VICTIMS DON'T TELL THEIR STORIES OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
allegations of sexual misconduct by ― surprise,
surprise ―attacking his victim. In defense of himself,
he said, “To think that grown women would wait
40 years... to bring charges is absolutely unbelievable.”
See complete article below:
REASONS WHY
VICTIMS DON'T TELL THEIR STORIES OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
Roy Moore: "To think that grown women would wait 40 years... to bring charges is absolutely unbelievable"
3,895 Replies 1,057 Retweets- 1,808 likes
Twitter Ads info and privacyBut actually, waiting decades to report is not at all
I, like many victims, took decades to find the courage to
name my abuser and seek justice for the crimes he
committed when I was a child. Many victims either never
disclose or wait years to share their stories.
name my abuser and seek justice for the crimes he
committed when I was a child. Many victims either never
disclose or wait years to share their stories.
Perpetrators and their allies undermine victims’ credibility
and impugn their character.
If you own a TV, read the newspaper, or have an Internet
connection, you have seen how victims are portrayed in
the media when they come forward.The community often
rallies around the perpetrator and pillories the victim.
If you have ever interacted with a victim or supporters of
an alleged perpetrator, you have probably witnessed this.
Predators groom individuals and entire communities so
that they gain the trust of victims and so that they have
a convenient “good guy” cover in place in case they are
exposed.
Victims face a barrage of questions when they
come forward instead of the sympathy and support they
need. Why didn’t you speak out sooner? Why didn’t you
try to stop the attacks? These questions add to the
trauma and horror of sexual violence.
Victims sometimes have kept in touch with their
perpetrators. Maybe they continued dating, working
together, or interacting politely at family events.
Continued contact with a perpetrator is also very
common. Often
this factor alone keeps victims trapped in silence.
Not reporting allows a victim to maintain the fantasy
that people in positions of responsibility would be
helpful if he or she did report.
Reporting often crushes that fantasy when responsible
people protect themselves and the perpetrator instead.
A lot of victims prefer you create an alternate reality,
one in which the abuse didn’t happen.
If a victim is hiding behind a facade of success,
competence, and achievement, admitting past abuse
can shatter that facade. Being the victim of sexual
violence is highly stigmatized. No high-functioning
person wants to be viewed as damaged. Victims find
it easier to pretend to be normal and live a lie than
face the horror of sexual abuse and trauma.Victims
often fear that coming forward will result in the loss
of employment, support network, housing,
reputation,and even their lives.
Victims involved in athletics and extra-curricular
activities may fear loss of playing time and access to
important opportunities.
Some victims simply don’t remember. I had suppressed
the memories of my abuse and still do not have linear
memories of it. In the case of child sexual abuse (and
oftentimes abuse of adults), reporting can disrupt
every relationship important to the victim. Family
members and friends choose the easier narrative: that
the victim is lying. Believing someone has lied is easier
than believing that a loved one has raped a child.
Victims might not know who to tell. Do you tell a friend?
A pastor? The police? Since sexual violence is
shrouded in a code of silence, sometimes the
impediment to timely reporting is that victims literally
do not know what to do.
Some may not even realize initially they have been a
victim of sexual violence in the first place.Some victims
are under the mistaken impression that you cannot
report at all if you do not report immediately.Some
victims tried to report and were told there was no
recourse. In some cases, victims disclosed to allies of
the perpetrator who told them not to tell anyone else,
further fortifying the prison of silence. Who would take
the risk and report again after that?
Victims may have been committed a crime or infraction
of rules around the time of the crime. Underage victims
who have been drinking at a party, for example, could
fear getting in trouble and decide it is not worth the
risk of reporting the sexual assault.
Naming an act of sexual violence makes it real.
Keeping silent is a way of protecting oneself.The victim
feels indebted to the perpetrator. For example, if the
victim is an elite athlete, he or she may feel as if she
owes the coach his or her silence.
Child victims may have been under the misguided
impression that they were in a consensual
relationship with a much older person. In this case, it
can take a long time to realize that the “relationship”
was actuallya sexual crime.
and impugn their character.
If you own a TV, read the newspaper, or have an Internet
connection, you have seen how victims are portrayed in
the media when they come forward.The community often
rallies around the perpetrator and pillories the victim.
If you have ever interacted with a victim or supporters of
an alleged perpetrator, you have probably witnessed this.
Predators groom individuals and entire communities so
that they gain the trust of victims and so that they have
a convenient “good guy” cover in place in case they are
exposed.
Victims face a barrage of questions when they
come forward instead of the sympathy and support they
need. Why didn’t you speak out sooner? Why didn’t you
try to stop the attacks? These questions add to the
trauma and horror of sexual violence.
Victims sometimes have kept in touch with their
perpetrators. Maybe they continued dating, working
together, or interacting politely at family events.
Continued contact with a perpetrator is also very
common. Often
this factor alone keeps victims trapped in silence.
Not reporting allows a victim to maintain the fantasy
that people in positions of responsibility would be
helpful if he or she did report.
Reporting often crushes that fantasy when responsible
people protect themselves and the perpetrator instead.
A lot of victims prefer you create an alternate reality,
one in which the abuse didn’t happen.
If a victim is hiding behind a facade of success,
competence, and achievement, admitting past abuse
can shatter that facade. Being the victim of sexual
violence is highly stigmatized. No high-functioning
person wants to be viewed as damaged. Victims find
it easier to pretend to be normal and live a lie than
face the horror of sexual abuse and trauma.Victims
often fear that coming forward will result in the loss
of employment, support network, housing,
reputation,and even their lives.
Victims involved in athletics and extra-curricular
activities may fear loss of playing time and access to
important opportunities.
Some victims simply don’t remember. I had suppressed
the memories of my abuse and still do not have linear
memories of it. In the case of child sexual abuse (and
oftentimes abuse of adults), reporting can disrupt
every relationship important to the victim. Family
members and friends choose the easier narrative: that
the victim is lying. Believing someone has lied is easier
than believing that a loved one has raped a child.
Victims might not know who to tell. Do you tell a friend?
A pastor? The police? Since sexual violence is
shrouded in a code of silence, sometimes the
impediment to timely reporting is that victims literally
do not know what to do.
Some may not even realize initially they have been a
victim of sexual violence in the first place.Some victims
are under the mistaken impression that you cannot
report at all if you do not report immediately.Some
victims tried to report and were told there was no
recourse. In some cases, victims disclosed to allies of
the perpetrator who told them not to tell anyone else,
further fortifying the prison of silence. Who would take
the risk and report again after that?
Victims may have been committed a crime or infraction
of rules around the time of the crime. Underage victims
who have been drinking at a party, for example, could
fear getting in trouble and decide it is not worth the
risk of reporting the sexual assault.
Naming an act of sexual violence makes it real.
Keeping silent is a way of protecting oneself.The victim
feels indebted to the perpetrator. For example, if the
victim is an elite athlete, he or she may feel as if she
owes the coach his or her silence.
Child victims may have been under the misguided
impression that they were in a consensual
relationship with a much older person. In this case, it
can take a long time to realize that the “relationship”
was actuallya sexual crime.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG?
With the media coverage of Roy Moore, I have heard the question, "Why did they wait that long to tell?", with a tone of doubt about the victims' veracity.
So, WHY does it take so long?
A friend of mine was molested by her father and it began as she went into puberty and lasted until she eloped at age seventeen. She ran away from home, lied about her age, and got married in Kentucky. She never saw her father again and she never allowed her two daughters to ever be around him. She has two older sisters but she believed that she was the only one abused because that is what her father told her. When my friend's younger sister was 12 years old, she told her sister--my friend--what was happening to her. My friend called her two older sisters and learned that the same thing had happened to them. All four of them went to confront THEIR mother! WHY didn't they confront the father? WHY didn't they have him arrested? WHY had they ALL kept the secrets? None felt that they could bear the SHAME! The father was a well-known, respected member of the community. My friend's sister never returned to her parents' home and was reared by my friend and her husband. The case never went to court; the sister just left home and lived with her sister for the remaining years until she turned 18; my friend's parents never tried to get the girl to return home. That was my generation and the way it was handled.
That was more than twenty years ago and I am embarrassed to admit that back then, I asked the question, "Why did you wait so long?" When she shared the history with me, she and I were "best friends"and had been friends for more than twenty years; I was godmother to her children, we vacationed together, but it took another friend's revealing her abuse for her to "open up" to me--her best friend.
Although her children would ask why there was no relationship with that set of grandparents, she never revealed to them WHY. I thought she should, but that was not my decision. She died four years ago and I recently saw one of her daughters, one of my godchildren, and she said that her mother was not affectionate. I said, "But YOU are affectionate with your kids, aren't you?" She missed my point. I said, "My father was not affectionate; his parents were not affectionate, but my brothers are affectionate with their kids; we can change from one generation; we don't have to be the way our parents were."
Suddenly, my goddaughter asked me, "So, did Mom tell you about the family secret?" I was taken aback and she said, "I can tell from your reaction that you do know." She told me that her cousin had told her about it and she asked, "My aunt told her daughter but Mom never told us; I wonder why." I said, "She couldn't; for a number of reasons; mainly that you would judge her." She asked, "Did Dad know?" I told her that he did. She asked, "Did he judge her?" I answered, "I think she thought that he rescued her."
Please read tomorrow's blog which is an article from The Huffington Post detailing reasons people do not reveal abuse.
So, WHY does it take so long?
A friend of mine was molested by her father and it began as she went into puberty and lasted until she eloped at age seventeen. She ran away from home, lied about her age, and got married in Kentucky. She never saw her father again and she never allowed her two daughters to ever be around him. She has two older sisters but she believed that she was the only one abused because that is what her father told her. When my friend's younger sister was 12 years old, she told her sister--my friend--what was happening to her. My friend called her two older sisters and learned that the same thing had happened to them. All four of them went to confront THEIR mother! WHY didn't they confront the father? WHY didn't they have him arrested? WHY had they ALL kept the secrets? None felt that they could bear the SHAME! The father was a well-known, respected member of the community. My friend's sister never returned to her parents' home and was reared by my friend and her husband. The case never went to court; the sister just left home and lived with her sister for the remaining years until she turned 18; my friend's parents never tried to get the girl to return home. That was my generation and the way it was handled.
That was more than twenty years ago and I am embarrassed to admit that back then, I asked the question, "Why did you wait so long?" When she shared the history with me, she and I were "best friends"and had been friends for more than twenty years; I was godmother to her children, we vacationed together, but it took another friend's revealing her abuse for her to "open up" to me--her best friend.
Although her children would ask why there was no relationship with that set of grandparents, she never revealed to them WHY. I thought she should, but that was not my decision. She died four years ago and I recently saw one of her daughters, one of my godchildren, and she said that her mother was not affectionate. I said, "But YOU are affectionate with your kids, aren't you?" She missed my point. I said, "My father was not affectionate; his parents were not affectionate, but my brothers are affectionate with their kids; we can change from one generation; we don't have to be the way our parents were."
Suddenly, my goddaughter asked me, "So, did Mom tell you about the family secret?" I was taken aback and she said, "I can tell from your reaction that you do know." She told me that her cousin had told her about it and she asked, "My aunt told her daughter but Mom never told us; I wonder why." I said, "She couldn't; for a number of reasons; mainly that you would judge her." She asked, "Did Dad know?" I told her that he did. She asked, "Did he judge her?" I answered, "I think she thought that he rescued her."
Please read tomorrow's blog which is an article from The Huffington Post detailing reasons people do not reveal abuse.
Monday, November 13, 2017
MUSICAL ANHEDONIA
Years ago, we were at lunch at work and a group of people were discussing a concert they'd attended, and is my wont, I broke out into song. Another woman said, "That is very irritating." I told her that I was honestly sorry my singing irritated her.
She said it wasn't my singing in particular, but the fact that she didn't "care for music", and the rest of us were always talking about music. Everyone there was shocked and one person asked, "HOW could you NOT like music?"
She asked, "Do you like--say, for instance--soccer?" The person answered that she didn't. The woman said, "It's just the same--you don't like soccer--and I don't like music."
I know that the woman regretted ever telling about it, because after that she was frequently bombarded with questions. She became angry when one person called it a "disorder" and another referred to it as a "condition"; she said that she wasn't "sick", and seeing that it made her uncomfortable, I didn't question her, but I was always fascinated that she didn't like music.
I knew there must be a term for it. I learned that "amusia" meant the inability to comprehend music and that "melaphobia" is an aversion to music and I gathered that neither of those fit her "condition". I then read about "musical anhedonia". Anhedonia is the inability to experience pleasure from what other people consider normal activities such as music and movies.
Recently, in conversation with a young person, I made a reference to a movie and he stated that he didn't like movies. I had the same reaction that I'd had with that woman who didn't care for music, and I thought, "HOW could you not like movies?" But instead of saying that, I asked, "You don't like ANY movies?" He said, "No, I don't understand why people are so gung-ho about movies." I asked, "Do you like music?" He answered that he did and asked me why I asked.
I said, "I was fearful you suffered from ANHEDONIA!" He asked, "What's that?" I told him about knowing a woman who didn't like music. He asked, "How could anybody not like music?"
TA-DAH! DRUM ROLL, please!
She said it wasn't my singing in particular, but the fact that she didn't "care for music", and the rest of us were always talking about music. Everyone there was shocked and one person asked, "HOW could you NOT like music?"
She asked, "Do you like--say, for instance--soccer?" The person answered that she didn't. The woman said, "It's just the same--you don't like soccer--and I don't like music."
I know that the woman regretted ever telling about it, because after that she was frequently bombarded with questions. She became angry when one person called it a "disorder" and another referred to it as a "condition"; she said that she wasn't "sick", and seeing that it made her uncomfortable, I didn't question her, but I was always fascinated that she didn't like music.
I knew there must be a term for it. I learned that "amusia" meant the inability to comprehend music and that "melaphobia" is an aversion to music and I gathered that neither of those fit her "condition". I then read about "musical anhedonia". Anhedonia is the inability to experience pleasure from what other people consider normal activities such as music and movies.
Recently, in conversation with a young person, I made a reference to a movie and he stated that he didn't like movies. I had the same reaction that I'd had with that woman who didn't care for music, and I thought, "HOW could you not like movies?" But instead of saying that, I asked, "You don't like ANY movies?" He said, "No, I don't understand why people are so gung-ho about movies." I asked, "Do you like music?" He answered that he did and asked me why I asked.
I said, "I was fearful you suffered from ANHEDONIA!" He asked, "What's that?" I told him about knowing a woman who didn't like music. He asked, "How could anybody not like music?"
TA-DAH! DRUM ROLL, please!
Sunday, November 12, 2017
NATIONAL PIZZA DAY
Today is National Pizza With The Works EXCEPT Anchovies Day. Why do people dislike anchovies?
I notice that no local restaurants offer anchovies as a pizza choice. I like anchovies and would order them, if they were available.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
SALUTE TO VETERANS
To all veterans: we salute you, and especially to my brothers BODE, KENNY, NEIL, NORMAN, ROGER, and LES, and to my HUSBAND.
Veterans Day is intended to honor and thank all military personnel who served the United States in all wars, particularly living veterans. It is marked by parades and church services and in many places the American flag is hung at half-staff. A period of silence lasting two minutes may be held at 11 AM. Some schools are closed on Veterans Day, while others do not close, but choose to mark the occasion with special assemblies or other activities.
Veterans Day is officially observed on November 11. However, if it falls on a week day, many communities hold their celebrations on the weekend closest to this date. This is supposedly to enable more people to attend and participate in the events. Federal Government offices are closed on November 11. If Veterans Day falls on a Saturday, they are closed on Friday November 10. If Veterans Day falls on a Sunday, they are closed on Monday November 12. State and local governments, schools and non-governmental businesses are not required to close and may decide to remain open or closed. Public transit systems may follow a regular or holiday schedule.
Veterans Day is intended to honor and thank all military personnel who served the United States in all wars, particularly living veterans. It is marked by parades and church services and in many places the American flag is hung at half-staff. A period of silence lasting two minutes may be held at 11 AM. Some schools are closed on Veterans Day, while others do not close, but choose to mark the occasion with special assemblies or other activities.
Veterans Day is officially observed on November 11. However, if it falls on a week day, many communities hold their celebrations on the weekend closest to this date. This is supposedly to enable more people to attend and participate in the events. Federal Government offices are closed on November 11. If Veterans Day falls on a Saturday, they are closed on Friday November 10. If Veterans Day falls on a Sunday, they are closed on Monday November 12. State and local governments, schools and non-governmental businesses are not required to close and may decide to remain open or closed. Public transit systems may follow a regular or holiday schedule.
Friday, November 10, 2017
SHORT SNORT
Recently, at a party, I was offered a variety of drinks and I heard one guest say, "I'll take a swig of that." I commented, "One hardly ever hears the word SWIG any more."
Another guest asked, "How about a SHORT SNORT?"
I knew the meaning of "short snort" as a small drink, but, naturally, I had to look up "short snort" and "swig" for my own amusement.
I learned something far more fascinating: on Google, below the definition of "short snort", was information about SHORT SNORTERS.
During WWII, military personnel would collect autographs on $1 bills (called "short snorters"), of guys in their units, and it became a drinking game: if one went to a bar and didn't have his "short snorter" then he would be obligated to buy a round of drinks for all.
One article referenced that the tradition began in the 1920s with Bush Pilots and continued through WWII, then Korea, and continued with the astronauts. I asked several Vietnam era veterans, and none had any knowledge of the tradition, except that one of my brothers said that he had seen a segment on PBS' History Detectives about Clark Gable's own "short snorter" which Gable collected during his WWII service.
Interestingly, that "short snorter" of Harry Hopkins (pictured at the left) was contained on a British 10-shilling note rather than on U.S. currency, but Hopkins was in London when the majority of the names were collected, and at Casablanca when other names were added.
Another guest asked, "How about a SHORT SNORT?"
I knew the meaning of "short snort" as a small drink, but, naturally, I had to look up "short snort" and "swig" for my own amusement.
I learned something far more fascinating: on Google, below the definition of "short snort", was information about SHORT SNORTERS.
One article referenced that the tradition began in the 1920s with Bush Pilots and continued through WWII, then Korea, and continued with the astronauts. I asked several Vietnam era veterans, and none had any knowledge of the tradition, except that one of my brothers said that he had seen a segment on PBS' History Detectives about Clark Gable's own "short snorter" which Gable collected during his WWII service.
Although there are many famous examples of "short snorters", probably the most famous one belonged to Harry Hopkins' (FDR's closest adviser, who was known as the "Architect of the New Deal"); included in the collection of 30 names are: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Dwight Eisenhower, Louis Mountbatten, Anthony Eden, Averill Harriman, Hoyt Vandenburg, Anthony Biddle, George Patton, and FDR's son, Elliott Roosevelt.
Interestingly, that "short snorter" of Harry Hopkins (pictured at the left) was contained on a British 10-shilling note rather than on U.S. currency, but Hopkins was in London when the majority of the names were collected, and at Casablanca when other names were added.
Thursday, November 9, 2017
SUPEREROGATION
"You want sympathy? Look in the dictionary--it's between shit and syphilis." That's advice from my brother Bode.
Yes, in my family, that would be the answer to one's complaining. Growing up with my mother, we were taught to "just suck it up" and to keep on going.
I came home after an exhausting day and I was whining and my brother asked, "You want some cheese with that wine?"
I gave him a scornful look and feigning embarrassment, he said, "Oh, excuse me, I should elevate the language and warn you against your consistent supererogation."
I asked, "Now where the Hell did you get THAT one?"
He laughed and said, "I was watching an old What's My Line--and John Daly used it to describe Bennett Cerf--but I had to look it up!"
Yes, in my family, that would be the answer to one's complaining. Growing up with my mother, we were taught to "just suck it up" and to keep on going.
I came home after an exhausting day and I was whining and my brother asked, "You want some cheese with that wine?"
I gave him a scornful look and feigning embarrassment, he said, "Oh, excuse me, I should elevate the language and warn you against your consistent supererogation."
I asked, "Now where the Hell did you get THAT one?"
He laughed and said, "I was watching an old What's My Line--and John Daly used it to describe Bennett Cerf--but I had to look it up!"
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
EPHEMERAL
In telling me about his career, one of my clients told about the most impressive person he'd known. My client had been selected for a prestigious position and after he met his assistant he learned that the assistant had also been considered for the job. When he learned this, he feared that the assistant would be the cause of much dissension. Instead, the assistant did everything he could to make my client successful and they became friends. When my client left the position five years later, the assistant was given the promotion.
My client said that after getting to know the assistant, he felt the assistant was more qualified than himself and should have been given the position previously. He said, "He was a real intellectual; he used words like ephemeral!" I chuckled and my client asked if I knew the word. I gave him my definition: "Short-lived, momentary, brief, transitory, fleeting." He said, "Use it in a sentence."
As we had been listening to Mario Lanza singing Valencia earlier that day, I said, "Before there were phonograph records, music was an ephemeral art."
After hearing about his friend, I said, "He must be the most magnanimous person you've ever known."
My client said, "He would have liked that word also!"
My client said that after getting to know the assistant, he felt the assistant was more qualified than himself and should have been given the position previously. He said, "He was a real intellectual; he used words like ephemeral!" I chuckled and my client asked if I knew the word. I gave him my definition: "Short-lived, momentary, brief, transitory, fleeting." He said, "Use it in a sentence."
As we had been listening to Mario Lanza singing Valencia earlier that day, I said, "Before there were phonograph records, music was an ephemeral art."
After hearing about his friend, I said, "He must be the most magnanimous person you've ever known."
My client said, "He would have liked that word also!"
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
WHY DON'T PEOPLE VOTE?
WHY don't people vote? I have heard the following:
"I have to work."
"It's raining."
"I'm too busy."
"I don't know where to go."
"I don't know when it's supposed to be."
"My vote doesn't matter."
"It's too hard to register."
"I don't care."
"I have to carpool."
"I don't know any of the people."
"I don't like any of them."
and the number one reason given for NOT voting:
"I don't want to be called for jury duty."
This article is reprinted from Sue's News from 2015:
COURAGE IN WOMEN IS OFTEN MISTAKEN FOR INSANITY
Today, as some politicians would like to take away voting rights, it is good to reflect about how far we have come and that we never want to go back. LEST WE FORGET, remember that it was not until 1920 that women WON (I hate it when the words "given" and "granted" are used) the RIGHT TO VOTE! Voter registration is an ongoing passion for me.
This is a story of OUR great-grandmothers, grandmothers, and mothers who lived only 95 years ago. On November 15, 1917, women dared to "peaceably assemble" and to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote.
The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless. Thus unfolded "The Night Of Terror" when the Warden of Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there. By the end of the night, some were barely alive. Forty prison guards, with their warden's blessing, went on a rampage, wielding clubs against the thirty three women for the offense of "obstructing sidewalk traffic."
Here are some of our heroines:
LUCY BURNS was beaten with her hands chained to the cell bars above her head and was left hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.
DORA LEWIS was hurled into a dark cell, had her head smashed against an iron bed and was knocked out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought that Lewis was dead and Cosu suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards beating, grabbing, dragging, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting, and kicking the women.
ALICE PAUL, the leader, embarked on a hunger strike. She was bound to a chair, had a tube forced down her throat, and had liquid poured down her throat until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was finally smuggled out and there was a public outcry.
PAULINE ADAMS in the prison garb she wore while serving a sixty-day sentence.
For weeks the only water the women received was from an open pail and the food they received was infested with worms.
EDITH AINGE of Jamestown, New York
Every one of us should rent the movie Iron Jawed Angels. It is a graphic depiction of the battle these valiant women waged to enable us to go to our polling places, pull the curtain, and have our say. Let's not them have worked and died in vain. HBO has released the movie on video and DVD. I wish all history, social studies, and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum. I wish it were shown at political events and anywhere else women--and like minded men-- gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.
Suffragists conferring over ratification of the 19th Amendment:
Suffragists at the National Woman's Party Headquarters, Jackson Place, Washington D.C., conferring over ratification of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. L-R Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Abby Scott Baker, Anita Pollitzer, Alice Paul, Florence Boeckel, Mabel Vernon (standing, right).
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized but it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong and brave, he said, and that didn't make her crazy.
The doctor admonished the men: "Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.".
We need to get out to vote, register others to vote, and encourage others to vote to use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women.
HELENA HILL WEED, of Norwalk, Connecticut, while serving a 3-day sentence in a Washington D.C. prison for carrying a banner which read "Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.".
"I have to work."
"It's raining."
"I'm too busy."
"I don't know where to go."
"I don't know when it's supposed to be."
"My vote doesn't matter."
"It's too hard to register."
"I don't care."
"I have to carpool."
"I don't know any of the people."
"I don't like any of them."
and the number one reason given for NOT voting:
"I don't want to be called for jury duty."
This article is reprinted from Sue's News from 2015:
COURAGE IN WOMEN IS OFTEN MISTAKEN FOR INSANITY
Today, as some politicians would like to take away voting rights, it is good to reflect about how far we have come and that we never want to go back. LEST WE FORGET, remember that it was not until 1920 that women WON (I hate it when the words "given" and "granted" are used) the RIGHT TO VOTE! Voter registration is an ongoing passion for me.
This is a story of OUR great-grandmothers, grandmothers, and mothers who lived only 95 years ago. On November 15, 1917, women dared to "peaceably assemble" and to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote.
The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless. Thus unfolded "The Night Of Terror" when the Warden of Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there. By the end of the night, some were barely alive. Forty prison guards, with their warden's blessing, went on a rampage, wielding clubs against the thirty three women for the offense of "obstructing sidewalk traffic."
Here are some of our heroines:
LUCY BURNS was beaten with her hands chained to the cell bars above her head and was left hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.
DORA LEWIS was hurled into a dark cell, had her head smashed against an iron bed and was knocked out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought that Lewis was dead and Cosu suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards beating, grabbing, dragging, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting, and kicking the women.
ALICE PAUL, the leader, embarked on a hunger strike. She was bound to a chair, had a tube forced down her throat, and had liquid poured down her throat until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was finally smuggled out and there was a public outcry.
PAULINE ADAMS in the prison garb she wore while serving a sixty-day sentence.
For weeks the only water the women received was from an open pail and the food they received was infested with worms.
EDITH AINGE of Jamestown, New York
Every one of us should rent the movie Iron Jawed Angels. It is a graphic depiction of the battle these valiant women waged to enable us to go to our polling places, pull the curtain, and have our say. Let's not them have worked and died in vain. HBO has released the movie on video and DVD. I wish all history, social studies, and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum. I wish it were shown at political events and anywhere else women--and like minded men-- gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.
Suffragists conferring over ratification of the 19th Amendment:
Suffragists at the National Woman's Party Headquarters, Jackson Place, Washington D.C., conferring over ratification of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. L-R Mrs. Lawrence Lewis, Abby Scott Baker, Anita Pollitzer, Alice Paul, Florence Boeckel, Mabel Vernon (standing, right).
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized but it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong and brave, he said, and that didn't make her crazy.
The doctor admonished the men: "Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.".
We need to get out to vote, register others to vote, and encourage others to vote to use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women.
HELENA HILL WEED, of Norwalk, Connecticut, while serving a 3-day sentence in a Washington D.C. prison for carrying a banner which read "Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the governed.".
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