Memeday Memeday

1:If you could build a house anywhere, where would it be?
Earth because I'm told as bad as the home lending crisis is here, it's even worse on Mars.

2:What's your favorite article of clothing?
I try not to play favorites, the others feel kind of excluded and hurt.

3:Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex?
I am an absolute sucker for eyes that sparkle with mischief

4:What's the last CD that you bought?
An 8 month dealie at what 4. 55% or something like that.

5:Where's your favorite place to be?
In the afterglow

6:Where is your least favorite place to be?
Sewage treatment plant, dungeon, surgery, inside the tiger cage at the zoo...none of them are places I particularly want to go

7:What's your favorite place to be massaged?
Hhmm, so far I've only been massaged in the USA but I'd be more than happy to take a world tour which includes massages in each place I visit and get back to you on that.

8:Strong in mind or strong in body?
What about strong in odor?

9:What time do you wake up in the morning?
Crack of dark

10:What is your favorite kitchen appliance?
What is it with you people and playing favorites? If I say the toaster then my blender will get all sulky. If I say the blender then the microwave will just pout for the day. Why are you intent on pitting them against each other? They are temperamental enough!

11:What makes you really angry?
When people mistreat children.

12:If you could play any instrument, what would it be?
Sigh...Bella. I tried again on Friday for the first time in probably a year because my wrist has been feeling pretty decent. Tuned up and spent maybe 10 minutes doing chords and Janita (for new readers that's my left arm, which I demolished two years ago) just would not cooperate and I paid for it with all manner of pain the rest of the weekend. Yes, Keyser I need to try alternate methods...basically start from scratch because honestly, when I was messing around on Friday I realized I have forgotten absurd amounts of what I once knew.

13:Favorite color?
Tie dye

14:Which do you prefer...sports car or SUV?
Pfft. Motorcycle.

15:Do you believe in an afterlife?
Yep

16:Favorite children's book?
You are just bound and determined to stir up trouble by playing favorites aren't you?

17:What is your favorite season?
Autumn (but don't tell the others, ok?)

18:What is your least favorite household chore?
Oh right, I see your angle now. You think if you word it in the opposite way maybe you can get me to go along. So now instead of giving an ego stroke to 'laundry' I am supposed to devastate poor 'toilet scrubbing.' Don't you see the way this is going to tear down the self esteem of whichever chore I pick?

19:If you could have one super power, what would it be?
I'm thinking some superhuman strength would be nice to have for a while.

20: Can you juggle?
I am a mother, what do you think?

21: The one person from your past that you wish you could go back and talk to?
The list is too long.

22:What's your favorite day?
July 20 (I apologize profusely to the other 364 days of the year and the leap day when it occurs. The questioner wore me down.)

23: If you have a tattoo, what is it?
I have unmarked skin...well, except for the five scars from when I broke my arm, the stretchmarks from pregnancy, the stitches in my eyelid when I was a kid, the gash in my shin when I tripped over the baby gate carrying a basket of laundry. But ya know, no ink.

24:What's in the trunk of your car?
You're assuming I have a trunk

25:Which do you prefer, sushi or hamburger?
Why would I eat either one of those when perfectly good chocolate is available?

Da Count-They Did It Right

This is going to be a bit of a trip before I get to the good stuff I am counting. Please bear with me as I spew out some ugliness that feels like it is poisoning me before I get to what is worthy of counting. If you've read me any amount of time you know I try to keep it positive but there has been something just gnawing at me.

I read a book this week that has sat in my "to read" pile for a long time. After churning through it in a single night I wish I had never read it. It infuriated me. Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Parents Knew by Sherrie Eldridge would seem by its title to speak for any adoptee but let me assure you it does not. After the first chapter I wanted to fling the book in the fireplace but I decided that was not giving the author her full say and to be fair I had to finish the book. My opinion of her views did not improve one iota over the course of the book.

Ms. Eldridge asserts that every adoptee, from the moment of relinquishment by birthparents, even as newborns, is a profoundly brokenhearted individual in need of very careful handling as if we are the most fragile of souls. If we act out in defiant or destructive ways over the course of our lives it is because we have suffered such deep psychic trauma over the loss of our birthparents. If we are well-behaved and productive members of society it is because we are overcompensating and masking all this heart-searing pain hoping the world will stop rejecting us. Basically, every adoptee should be in lifelong therapy because there is no other way we could possibly be healthy individuals. If our adoptive parents have any smarts at all they will make sure that every time we misbehave they ask us if it is because we are missing our birthmothers and if we are behaving is it so she will come back. (Can I scream now at the absurdity of her sweeping generalization?)

To be fair, I accept that Ms. Eldridge is 20 years older than I am and in her day adoption was cloaked in much more secrecy. Families were advised to pretend there was no such thing as adoption, not to answer questions. I will say that any time it is handled with secrecy and carries a sense of shame that I believe a child picks up on that and yes problems can and often do arise. I know other adoptees who found out late in life about the "big secret." It understandably caused a tremendous amount of anger and confusion and damage. I truly grieve for those who have endured such deception. Just don't assume because your experience was negative and scarring that mine was too. I resent that very deeply. Don't pretend to speak for me. I think what angers me most is that all my life I've dealt with people who aren't adopted assuming that being adopted means I have this great trauma in my life so to have a fellow adoptee insist that I am damaged goods just makes me want to knock my head against the wall. The only credit I will give Ms. Eldridge is that she does encourage open communication between parents and children. I do believe that is critically important.

The truth is, not every adoptive family tries to hide the truth. Many of us have parents who very lovingly and gently gave us answers as we asked questions. As a very young child I can remember being scared that "growing in another lady's belly" meant someone else had some claim on me somehow and might be able to come take me away. When I was older I wanted to know why my birthmother didn't raise me herself. Of course there were other things we discussed over the course of a life time too. My mother always gave me gentle and honest answers that were respectful of my feelings and compassionate toward my birthmother. I always knew it was safe to ask any question. It was safe enough that my mother once told me about how when she was punished as a child she dreamed she must be adopted because no one would be so mean to their child. We laughed together when I told her since I knew I was adopted I used to imagine my birthmother was a princess in a castle ready to rescue me from this terribly mean woman who expected me to clean my own room. Boy, I sound irrevocably damaged don't I? Anyone have the number of a good therapist?

So if you've stuck with me this long, thanks. I am counting my birthmother who knew she could not provide what I needed as a child and made a very difficult decision in my best interest. And I am counting my mother who received me and was ready and able to provide all the love I needed, as well as the honesty in a naturally unfolding manner.

Slice of Lime-Whoda Thunk It?

Betcha didn't know ya could tie dye eggs, didja?
Well, I can.

Yeah, it's an illness...
...at least as bad as my mother's purple addiction.

Weird Wednesday-What a Sucker

Today's Weird Wednesday is brought to you by alert Limelette Calypso who found this story online and was utterly repelled. It's been far too long since I skewered any beauty practices and this provides the perfect opportunity. For new readers here's an old link to another post where I had fun mocking Avon products when my son was expected to sell them for a school fundraiser. I kid you not. Ok, onto the story...

What's Demi Moore's secret to looking so sexy at age 45?

Uh, leeches. (Because when you think sexy, leeches immediately spring to mind.)

On Monday night's "Late Show With David Letterman," the "Flawless" actress revealed how she recently went to Australia for a cleansing. The treatment included leech therapy.

Moore said "the highly trained medical leeches" were first placed in her belly button. (Highly trained? How does one train a leech? Are there special leech behavioral techniques one must use? Is there a Leech Whisperer?)

"You feel [them] bite down on you, and you want to go, 'You bastard!' and then you relax and watch it swell up," she said. (Ya know, there's a reason why calling someone a blood sucking leech is considered an insult and it's not because having leeches in your navel is fun and relaxing.)

"They have a little enzyme that when they are biting down in you, it gets released in your blood and generally you bleed for quite a bit - and your health is optimized," she added. (Listen, my saliva has enzymes in it too and I am betting I could make you bleed quite a bit by biting you. I'll charge you half of what the leech handlers ask for your health optimization and we both come out ahead. Whaddya say?)

"It detoxifies your blood - I'm feeling very detoxified right now." (I think you're just lightheaded from blood loss, honey.)

Though she said it first feels "worse then feels better," she plans on "going back - I only got 4 leeches and I feel a bit cheated." (If you want more leeches I know this great swamp....)

Joked Letterman: "Are you sure this isn't just menopause?" (Or senility, or just plain stupidity?)

I Just Can't Escape This Color.

First a quiz, then a story...

You Are a Purple Crayon

Your world is colored in dreamy, divine, and classy colors. You hold yourself to a sky high standard, and you are always graceful. (Obviously the writer of the test has never seen me zipline, or even trip over my own feet when I walk down the street.) People envy, idolize, and copy you without realizing it. You are an icon for those who know you. (So why aren't you ALL wearing tie dye and Birkenstocks???) And while it is hard to be a perfectionist, rest assured it's paying off! (Perfectionists never rest!!! What's wrong with you?) Your color wheel opposite is yellow. While yellow people may be wise, they lack the manners and class needed to impress you. (Hhhm, but yellow is the color I want my bedroom to be.)

What Color Crayon Are You?

Onto the story...

My mother loves the color purple. LOVES purple. I have known a few other folks who love purple and I have to say there seems to be some inherent madness that attends this fondness for all things violet. No other color seems to elicit the same devotion or spark such mania. Even among lovers of purple my mom attains a special level of passion that far exceeds anyone else I have ever met.

She dates her love of the color to her teen years. All I know is that my entire childhood was bathed in shades ranging from deep purple to pale lilac. Mom was a seamstress so she made a lot of clothing...mostly in purple. My entire bedroom...purple. She tells the story of how she was helping me get dressed for school one day when I was 6 and I looked at her and intoned quite matter-of-factly, "Mommy, I really don't LIKE purple. I'd like to wear something else." She looked through my entire wardrobe and could not find anything that didn't have some element of purple on it. She was both cut to the heart and panic stricken by my stated dislike for her favorite color. She tells me as I outgrew clothes she began to let me choose other colors to wear until eventually I expunged every shade of purple from my wardrobe. I never again wore purple in any shade. In fact to this day I avoid it. I have exactly one purple item because Mr. Lime needed a shirt tie dyed purple as a sample for something. The person he had me make it for did not want it so it came back to me. My love of tie dye trumped my dislike for purple and I wear it as a pajama top.

My mother's passion for purple went beyond wearing it. When my dad left and we moved into town she bought one side of a small duplex. The siding was white and trim was black. In Pennsylvania Dutch country this "color" scheme was one of a few acceptable choices. Dark green, navy blue, or dark brown might also have been tolerated as trim colors. My mother of course chose to paint all the trim a shocking shade of purple. Initially she went with a very dark purple but she decided it was too likely to be mistaken as black so she quickly changed it to an unmistakable screaming, bright purple. Our house was across the street from the local high school. Between the location and the color we NEVER had to give anyone directions to our house. Where do you live? Do you know the purple house by the high school? Oh, yes. Are you next door? No, we are in it....blink blink...shuffling of feet...attempts at polite silence or kind remarks ultimately failing.

The above exchange reveals a bit more about the PA Dutch mentality regarding house color. The absurdity of the trim color meant the entire house was described as purple. The contamination was complete. We were actually listed on a Chamber of Commerce Scavenger Hunt one year (find the house number of The Purple House). If the neighbors were left in any doubt about my mother's sanity when she painted the trim they were convinced when she painted the entire carport purple and hung a giant sign which read "THINK PURPLE." Of course her innovation in reaching the second floor shutters for paint touch-ups may also have contributed to the neighbors' questions about her mental stability as well. Imagine a wisp of a woman standing on the second story window ledge while lashed with a leather belt to something heavy inside. Now add two kids reaching out of the window to hang on to each of her legs to keep her feet from slipping. I.am.not.making.this.up. This is the woman who dared to tell me I should know better than to go on a zipline without a harness. Had I not been overcome by anesthesia and heavy narcotic painkillers at the time I may have thought to remind her I learned from the best.

When I grew up and moved away I thought I'd be able to escape the color and its effect on my life. No purple clothes, no purple houses. Oh, and no purple cars. My mother had hers custom painted in her favorite shade. Then I had children and would you believe the very first color each of them could identify by name was PURPLE. Now, dear readers, let us consider normal language development in a child. One of the reasons that worldwide terms for female caregivers or mothers tend to have the M sound in them is because it is so easy for babies and toddlers to produce. They can randomly let their lips fall together as they hum and say mama or oma. Elated grownups reinforce this with glee and they begin to associate it with their mothers. Single syllable words with simple consonant sounds are easiest to learn. Thus, when learning colors one might expect RED to be first, perhaps followed by BLUE or GREEN. Not my children. Nooooo. Each one of them cooed out PURPLE much to the absolute delight of my mother, who I believe whispered to them in their sleep.

Eventually my mother built a new house with my stepfather and rented out the old house we grew up in. It was no surprise when the new house had purple carpets and walls in both the dining room and her bedroom. When the old house's trim needed painting it was surprising that my mother let the tenants chose the new color. No one was shocked when they opted for blue though it was interesting to hear that the neighbors were sad to loose the purple. I was surprised myself to find I felt a little bit of sadness that I could no longer go drive past the purple house of my childhood. The house is still standing. It's still recognizable as my old house, but there's a little something missing to not see the screaming purple shutters, door and railings. I think somehow all that purple seeped into my soul and is in a lot of ways responsible for me being able to be comfortable enough to state preferences that don't conform to everyone else's expectation or tastes. So thanks, Mom. Anyone want some tie dye?

MicroBio

I hope everyone who observes the holiday had a great Easter. I ate entirely too much but enjoyed a chance to spend with my extended family. When we got to my mom's she showed us a brand new Honda-CRV she just bought two weeks ago. I jokingly asked if she was going to let her granddaughter take it for a spin and she said, "Of course!." You can imagine Diana was both thrilled and nervous. I feared for the bank of mailboxes as she backed out of the driveway but once she got past that she did great. Upon her return she informed us it's much nicer to drive than my dented minivan with a transmission that's beginning to slip. Imagine that!



Hypersonic had a link to this article some time ago where some fellow has done a compilation of people summing up their lives in six words. He was inspired by Ernest Hemingway's 6 word story For sale: baby shoes, never used.

Then Citizen of the World tagged me with the idea as a meme.

I thought coming up with a complete story line in 55 words was a challenge. How do I sum up my entire life in 6 words?

Well, I have two alternatives here. I realize they sound a bit gloomy and I don't intend that. The first one is simply a statement of fact and is what has felt like the overarching theme from the day I was born.

Unending cycle of hellos and good-byes.



Here are some others I thought of too.

Daughter, sister, wife, mother. Seeking myself.

Running the show, no one realizes.

Mapped a route, detoured, enjoying ride.




Ok, so I cheated and put out too many words plus all sorts of explanation. When have you ever known me to follow all the rules of a meme?

How would YOU sum up your life in six words?

Friday 55s-Good Friday

The Thief

Merciless sun blisters my skin as the crowd's unrelenting curses assault my ears.
The weight of my own guilt, the pain of dislocated joints and bound limbs bear down so heavily I can barely breathe.
I dangle between present agony and hopeless eternity until He tells me,
"Today you will be in Paradise with Me."



The Guard

I'm glad to follow my orders well.
It's like taking out the trash to rid the earth of the scum we execute here.
Today is different.
One never begged for mercy, never fought us.
He spoke mercy on us all.
For the first time I feel guilt.
I fall to my knees, confess His deity.



The Mother

We had to travel when my time was so near.
When the king was killing the little boys we had to flee for our lives.
I was panicked when we lost him in the city.
But nothing has pierced my heart like watching the spikes enter his flesh and that sword go into his side.

Wishing a happy Easter to those who celebrate it in one form or another. Hoping the Equinox takes effect and life warms up a little bit for those tired of snow and cold.

This I Believe

I believe the human body is an amazing and marvelous thing.

I believe there is beauty in everyone whether old or young, skinny or fat, male or female, tall or short, black or white (or any shade in between), whether they conform to any given cultural ideals of beauty or not.

I believe perfection in a woman is not defined by her breast size anymore than perfection in a man is defined by his penis size. It is defined by a person's size of heart and development of their mind.

I believe surgically altering one's body should be done for the sake of improving physical health or repairing damage that has been done by disease or injury. However, I also believe adults have the right to have surgery for purely cosmetic reasons.

I believe when a button like this, with the caption "help build the perfect girl"and a link to raise funds for someone's breast implants, is put up as part of HNT and followed with a crass, "Maybe if we help her raise enough she'll let us see them later."...HNT ceases to be a fun weekly post where variety of form can be celebrated. I believe it sends the message that you are more valued if you conform to narrow definitions of physical beauty and if you are willing to bare all for cyberspace. I do believe if an adult wants to bare everything he or she has that right.

That said, I believe it is time for me to say goodbye to official HNT participation. I expect to continue posting in my own particular style without linking to the site where folks announce their posts. I will not be bothering to post on Wednesday evenings and heading over to say I have done so. On Thursdays you'll get a "slice of lime" that will either be artistic, humorous, or have a story to tell. I will continue to visit the folks I've enjoyed in the past and do my best to say hello to anyone who visits me. This week I may be somewhat absent due to the holiday coming up and various preparations.

The Answers go Marching Two by Two

Two Names You Go By:

Grand High Exalted Mystic Ruler of the House of Lime
Most Blessed, Beloved, and Gracious Mother

Oddly, no one ever addresses me thusly though

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
A puzzled expression
My glasses

Two Things You Would Want in a Relationship:
Mutual daily affirmation
Chocolate

Two of Your Favorite Things to do:
How do I narrow this down? Well, the list does NOT include getting up at 5:30am or eating sauerkraut.

Two pets you had/have:
A great slobbering St. Bernard I used to try to ride like a horse when I was 4
A rottweiler/shepherd mix who liked to chew my hammock and the laundry on the wash line

Two Things You Want sooner rather than later.

Someone to clean my kitchen
An orgasm

The first could quite possibly lead to the second.

Two things you did last night:

Had awful nightmares
Woke up crying

Two things you ate today:
Nothing yet

Two people you Last Talked To:

In person

Calypso & Diana as the left for the bus stop

On the phone
My mom
A classmate of Calypso's who needed a ride to the chorus concert last night.

In my head or under my breath
Harvey
Mr. Lime for some snarky comment he made first thing in the morning after a sleepless, nightmare filled night.

Two Things You’re doing tomorrow:
Grocery shopping
Cleaning

Try not to envy the thrilling life of adventure I lead

Two longest car rides:

California to North Carolina in 3 and a half days
Pennsylvania to Georgia with a painful herniated disk

Two favorite beverages:
Ice water with lemon
Woodchuck cider

Thoughts

Last night I started the book Left to Tell by Imaculee Ilibagiza. It's been in my "to read" pile for over a year. I finished it the morning. I couldn't put the book down. It is the story of how she not only survived but also how her faith in a loving God increased during the genocide in Rwanda.

Ilibagiza lost her parents, 2 of her brothers (the only surviving brother was at university in Senegal during the genocide), and most of her extended family. She huddled in silence in a 3' x 4' bathroom with 6 other women and children for 91 days. They were then sent to a camp run by French soldiers who later abandoned the refugees on the road in the midst of armed bands of Hutu killers. Miraculously they made it to a rebel Tutsi camp. When the peace was restored she briefly returned to her home and buried the bodies of her mother and oldest brother who, like nearly 1 million others, had been hacked to death. She looked into the eyes of the man who killed her family and who hunted for her by name ("Where is Imaculee? I have killed 399. She will be 400!") and she forgave him though he hadn't even asked for her forgiveness. She continues to insist that forgiveness will be the only way Rwanda and the rest of the world will find true healing.

Mahatma Gandhi
Corrie Ten Boom
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Imaculee Ilibagiza

These are people who have all adhered to nonviolence and insisted that we must not return evil for evil, that we must return good. They are all people who truly lived by those words when the cost was greater than you or I can conceive. Ten Boom and Ilibagiza take their example from Christ who spoke from the cross, "Father, forgive them. They know not what they do." King learned from both Christ's example and that of Gandhi, a Hindu who had studied many world religions and come to the conclusion that the compassion and nonviolence were at the core of each of them.

I stand in awe of people like this and I simply have nothing else I can say that would be meaningful, but I have much to ponder.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

What Your Shamrock Says About You

You are brilliant, analytical, and somewhat of a perfectionist. You are ultra competent and knowledgeable. (Well, I am glad someone finally realizes this.) At times, people find you intimidating. You can be a bit sarcastic and harsh. (We brilliant perfectionists are just misunderstood.) You don't really consider yourself a lucky person. In your view, people create their own luck. (Do you think if I created my own luck I would have decided to fall off a zipline? ah well, I guess I created my own bad luck there...) You are creative, innovative, and complicated. You definitely have a unique spin on the world. (You're calling me weird, aren't you?)

The Shamrock Personality Test

If I even liked beer... I'd be Heineken

You appreciate a good beer, but you're not a snob about it. (Referring you to the altered title of this quiz...) You like your beer mild and easy to drink, so you can concentrate on being drunk. (I like my beer to be so mild it tastes like hard cider and I actually avoid being drunk. I hate the dizzy feeling.) Overall, you're a friendly drunk who's likely to buy a whole round for your friends... many times. (Friendly, that's a nice way to put it...) Sometimes you can be a bit boring when you drink. You may be prone to go on about topics no one cares about. (I go on about topics no one cares about when I am sober!)

What's Your Beer Personality?

(Well, at least they got this one right!) You Are A Lime Tree

You are intelligent, hard working, and innately successful. (Back to the brilliant perfectionist thing?) You try to change what you can in life - and you accept what you can't change. (I have a big jar of change under my desk, does that count?) Tough on the outside, you are actually soft and relenting. (Well thanks for blowing my cover!) Jealous at times, you are extremely loyal and giving to those you love. (Just a big, old, slobbering family dog I am.) You have many talents, but you don't have enough time to use them. (Too busy driving mom-taxi.)

What's Your Celtic Horoscope?

Friday 55 & Da Count

FRIDAY 55

She stumbles around in silent darkness unable to understand or be understood, her heart and soul imprisoned. She lashes out at any who approach her cage. Her hopeless, helpless parents indulge any urge and bow to wild furies until...
The teacher tames the raging child, restores her freedom by giving her a language to speak.

The most important day I remember in all my life is the one on which my teacher, Anne Mansfield Sullivan, came to me...three months before I was seven years old.
~Helen Keller~

Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.
~Helen Keller~

DA COUNT

The above picture is a recently discovered and previously unknown photograph of the young Helen Keller with her teacher Annie Sullivan.

Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan have been heroes of mine since I was seven years old and I got my first chapter book about them. Helen was left deaf and blind after an illness when she was 19 months old. Her parents were devastated and had no idea what to do for her other than cater to her every whim. Eventually they hired Annie Sullivan to work with her. Annie was very nearly fired because of her insistence that Helen learn to gain self control. She was given one last chance with Helen and during that time Helen finally made the connection between the words Annie fingerspelled into her palm and the objects being named. Helen's world suddenly opened up and the rages were calmed because she now had a way to express herself in a way that could be understood. Helen not only learned to use sign language but learned to speak with her voice through countless hours of placing her fingers on Annie's throat, lips, and nose so she could learn how speech felt and replicate it.

Annie lost much of her sight to trachoma at age five. Her abusive, alcoholic father left her in an orphanage when she was seven. She begged a State official to let her go to school when he visited the orphanage. She regained some sight after a series of surgeries and graduated as valedictorian from the Perkins School for the Blind.

Helen and Annie were at each other's side from 1887 until the teacher's death in the 1930s. They accomplished more than anyone ever dared dream for either of them. This story to me is one of the pinnacles of what can be accomplished by a dedicated teacher. It's what perseverance between student and teacher can achieve. It innovates and produces hope.

Although it's only a photograph I was excited to learn of the discovery and I paused to again consider these two women who amazed the world. I'm counting them this week and the inspiration they've given me since I was seven.

HNT-Lean on Me

Moosekahl and Jillie are two blog pals of mine who have both had some terrible news in the past week. Moose has been a sweet friend who has listened to me and encouraged me when I've needed it. Jillie is a ray of sunshine who I've swapped tie-dye with and gotten lemons back (and yes, that's a good thing, fresh lemons are fabulous!) I have some other friends out there who have been dealing with some long term difficulties too.

For my friends, you've got my shoulder when you need it.

HHNT

Weird Books

I found this contest last year and looked forward to the announcement of nominees this year. the Bookseller has not disappointed. Here I reprint the brief announcement and add my own commentary.

The polls are open in the annual balloting for the Diagram Prize, honoring the world’s oddest book title, Agence France-Presse reported. Conducted by The Bookseller, a British trade magazine, the vote at www.thebookseller.com asks participants to choose from six mostly nonfiction titles on the shortlist, culled from titles submitted by publishers, bookstore workers and librarians around the world. The nominees are...

“I Was Tortured by the Pygmy Love Queen” by Jasper McCutcheon (The true life story ripped from the headlines of Weekly World News and the National Enquirer? Special forward by the miraculous Batboy.)

“How to Write a How to Write Book” by Brian Paddock (This one has also been nominated for the Confusing Redundancy Award)

“Are Women Human? And Other International Dialogues” by Catharine A. MacKinnon (I thought we already covered this with an interplanterary scope when "Men Are from Mars, Woman Are from Venus" was published.)

“Cheese Problems Solved” edited by P. L. H. McSweeney (Gees! I missed the first volume "Cheese Problems Defined." I've got a lot of catching up to do with all this unruly cheese running around.)

“If You Want Closure in Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs” by Big Boom (Brought to you by the Sex as a Weapon, Frigid Wives United, and Abstinence Only Advocacy Group. And with a name like Big boom I'd not be expecting this sort of advice, unless of course it refers to the sound of thighs closing forcefully.)

“People Who Mattered in Southend and Beyond: From King Canute to Doctor Feelgood” by Dee Gordon. (Doctor Feelgood has been commissioned to write a rock opera celebrating their fellow significant Southenders.)

The winner is to be announced on March 28. The prize has been offered since 1978, when the winner was “Proceedings of the Second International Workshop on Nude Mice.”

Which one has your vote? What's the weirdest book you've ever read? Any titles to suggest?

Noboday Bakes a Cake...

...as tasty as a Tastykake!



If you are from anywhere near Philadelphia that's a jingle you've heard for probably your entire life. Last week I wound my way through a random facts meme and ended up with hoagies and cheesesteaks. It reminded me of my favorite Philly area food tradition. Tastykakes!

The rest of the country may munch on Little Debbie Pies and Hostess Snack Cakes. When I want to clog my arteries and rot my teeth with some mass produced baked good I will run for a Peanut Butter Kandy Kake every time, or a Chocolate Junior, or if I am really in a pinch I may consider a Butterscotch Krimpet.

Tastykake is a Philadelphia tradition since 1914 when the bakery first opened. Since 1922 most of the baking has taken place at a facility right in Philadelphia. In recent years there was talk of relocating the major operations away from the city in order to allow an expansion of operations. Philadelphians were in an uproar. This past May it was announced the company would indeed relocate but instead of leaving Philly they'd be moving to the Navy Yard. This is a win/win for both the Navy Yard, which was shut down by the Defense Department in 1996, and for the Tasty Baking Company as it seeks to grow...not to mention all the local and loyal lovers of Tastykakes in Philadelphia.

No, I am not being paid to advertise for TatstyKakes. I just love them that much. How much? Well, when I was pregnant in Trinidad and enduring all manner of horrendous food cravings my father came to visit. He asked if there was anything he could bring for me. I told him he needed to have a collection of Italian cheeses and seasonings so I could make a lasagna, a bag of Doritos, and a box of Peanut Butter Tastykakes. I also warned him that Mr. Lime was under orders to put him on the next plane back to the USA if he failed to carry these items with him. Dad did not disappoint. I mean just look at the peanut buttery, chocolatey happiness! Mmmmmm

I will tell you, all the images I've used here have been taken from the Tastykake website. You can order their items if you wish to indulge in the yumminess that is Tastykake. Upon my return to the US I was also graced with a lovely little recipe which produces a reasonable facsimile of my beloved Peanut Butter Tastykakes. So if you want to taste them but not deal with mail order give this a try. I don't remember who gave me the recipe or I would credit and bless them here and now.

Tandy Take Cake (tandy take is the old name for PB candy cakes)

4 eggs
1 cup milk
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
8 oz Hershey bar (another PA favorite)
1 cup peanut butter

-Beat eggs until thick and lemony.
-Gradually add sugar, milk, and vanilla.
-Mix dry ingredients separately.
-Fold egg mixture into dry ingredients.
-Pour into greased jelly roll pan.
-Bake at 350F for 15-20 minutes.
-Spread peanut butter on warm cake.
-Cool.
-Cover with melted Hershey bar.

Reviews

Heavy rains for 3 days can be a bore. Add a sick kid and weekend plans get even less exciting. I solved it by renting an armload of movies. so here's a review of my favorite, and a book, and maybe some other stuff.

FLICKS
Once is one fabulous movie. Seriously, run, do not walk to your nearest video place or put it on top of your Netflix list. It's such a simple and unembellished story but that is half the charm. I kept thinking, "I am so glad Hollywood didn't make this movie. Some executive would have felt compelled to punch it up a few notches and then it would be ruined. They would have changed the ending to something syrupy and I'd have gagged."

It's the story of a relationship between a Dublin musician and a Czech immigrant and how they gently nudge each other into their respective dreams. The story and details of the characters' backgrounds unfolds very subtly without a bunch of condescending dialogue spelling it all out. It's filmed in a way that seems almost like a documentary but again it just highlights the sincerity of the characters. The ending was understated and not what we are conditioned to expect from a Hollywood flick (again, thanks be that this was not done in Hollywood) but it was satisfying. Calypso's comment was, "Oh! I like that! It was an HONEST ending, not made up." Right on, kiddo. Glad that point wasn't lost on her.

I think the back of the box called it a modern musical which really does it a disservice because I think that sort of billing could turn folks off who would be repelled by the notion of some huckster marching down Main St. with 76 trombones or a bunch of oddly happy Depression era orphans dancing around. The musical performances flow naturally rather than coming across like strange interjections. The music in the film is terrific and written primarily by the two lead actors. It's good enough that the girls and I immediately went out and bought the soundtrack. Yes, all three of us with our divergent tastes agreed on this one. So 5 twists of lime for Once. Watch it.

BOOKS
Moving on to books. While I was in Georgia with my MIL I finished 1491 by Charles Mann. Now, if you know me at all you know I am a nonfiction geek so understand that up front. This book explores the Pre-Columbian history of the New World and I have to say it was fascinating. The author admits he is not a historian but a journalist instead. He says he wrote the book after doing research to satisfy his own curiosities and finding how wrong a lot of what we were taught really is. He covers both North and South American cultures and makes the case for those societies having a great deal more technology and complexity than we've given them credit for. He counters the notion that they lived in a vast untouched wilderness by providing evidence for how they managed and manipulated natural resources as much as their counterparts in other parts of the world. Mann shares theories about how rapidly disease spread across the continents from even the briefest contacts prior to the major influxes of European population so that by the time the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock the continent's population had already been devastated in worse ways than Europe had been by the plague. The author is not shy about stating his opinion on various controversies but he is clear as to what evidence he uses to come to his conclusions. He also seems fair in presenting evidence to the contrary in an even manner.

I found Mann's style to be very engaging and readable too. I've read three of Thomas Cahill's Hinges of History Series and wanted to tear my hair out because even in areas where I already have a fairly decent grasp of whatever Cahill was discussing he presented it in a chronology that was totally convoluted and confusing. He also seemed more interested in having the reader come away saying, "Oooooh, he's a smart guy!" rather than actually understanding the subject any better. Ignore Cahill. Go read Mann. Four twists of lime for 1491.

MISCELLANY
Diana got her learner's permit to drive a week and a half ago. Yesterday I rode as her passenger for the first time. I think I have a few more white hairs. I've noticed her father simply has fewer hairs over all. I've said all along that he needs to be the one to teach her because to be honest he has better driving habits than I do plus Diana and I butt heads so much. He taught me to drive stick way back when we got engaged too and he was a patient teacher. I thought they'd do well together. She tells me he makes her nervous though and I didn't because I was quieter about the whole thing. Maybe it was just because I was too busy praying to arrive safely to our destination. In any event I was pleased with how she did even if this process takes years off my life. Three twists of lime for this first experience.

Now for the Sour Lime Award for Gross Imbecility. And the award goes tooooooo.......my Pastor. Someone really needs to duct tape his mouth at times. Here's a guy in a profession where an above average understanding of how to relate to people is kind of important and yet he has a decidedly below average ability to keep demeaning and obnoxious comments to himself. To make things worse when people dare to let him know he has been offensive, and there are a few of us who do, he always makes it out as if we are too thin-skinned and can't take a joke. Now I am not a big fan of being politically correct but I think basic respect is important. Guess what? Misogynistic and bigoted comments veiled as jokes during a time of teaching don't fly. Ever. One time when I called him on some asinine thing he said I got the response, "Well, being a pastor is stressful and I blow off steam by saying stupid things." I told him he needed to find a less damaging way of dealing with his stress. See, there's this thing bit in the Bible about doing unto others the way you'd have them do unto you and letting only that which is good for edification come from your mouth... This week it was all I could do not to hurl a hymnal at the guy. Yes, pastors are human and therefore prone to all the weakness the rest of us are prone to, but this guy is straining my forbearance to the limit. Ok, so sorry about that. I figured last week I had the rare political rant so this week I will cover religion and all the taboos of conversation are evened out.

So as to not end on a sour Lime Award let me share a funny one minute song from the movie Once that I have been humming all weekend. Cracks me up every time...of course it might help to have the context of the movie...so go watch that later.

Friday 55 & Da Count- Thirty Hour Famine

FRIDAY 55

Predators surround their prey in darkness, ready to snatch boys from families, make them one of the bloodthirsty pack.

During a fast a world away the stomachs of well-fed teens growl like wolves.

Having felt the hunger of the prey, having seen their faces, my daughters' consciences haunt them like a distant howl at midnight.




DA COUNT

I wish I could say the first part of the 55 were fiction. Sadly, it's not. All over parts of Africa and Asia children are stolen away from their families and turned into soldiers under threat of torture and death. The devastated families and communities are already ones living in poverty and hunger. Last Spring Diana and Calypso participated with others in The 30 Hour Famine to raise money to feed hungry children. (The group raised enough to feed about 20 children for a year.) It meant they fasted for 30 hours and spent the time with others doing the same. During their time they were educated about hunger in the world and about child soldiers in particular. One of the activities during the fast involved each participant being give $25 and sent to the grocery store. They were directed to buy the most amount of the highest nutrition, non-perishable food to donate to the local food pantries.

Both of my girls came away changed by the experience and have talked about it periodically for the last year. They found out how much in their own lives that have that is worth counting and became profoundly aware of those who have so little. They recently found out the dates for the next event and are eagerly looking forward to participating again. Isaac has heard about it for a year and thinks he wants to be involved this time around too. In addition to counting that my children are safe and well-fed I'm counting their awareness of others not so blessed and their desire to do what they can to tell others and to ease the suffering.

HNT-Celebrating a Return

Last week I was in Georgia taking care of my mother-in-law. As I said, it went much better than I thought, both in terms of her physical recovery and in terms of our getting along. Nonetheless I was glad to get home. Mr. Lime and the kids all came to the airport to pick me up and we went out to dinner on the way home since it was close to dinner time and we had a 2 hour drive.

Palm Springs Savant likes to take pictures of himself with martinis so when my raspberry margarita was served I took a cue from him and had Isaac snap a shot. It was a lot bigger than I expected (and a lot weaker so I guess it evens out). Anyway, this is my "Aaaahhhhh, good to be home and still not have to cook and clean tonight" look.

HHNT

Call the Shaman

I was born during the Johnson Administration. I don't hear a lot of folks looking back fondly at him.

My very first memory of anything historically significant is sitting on my father's lap during the Watergate hearings and listening to him growl, "Nixon's a damn crook!"

Then I remember some of the outrage over Ford pardoning Nixon.

Next came Carter and his unique ability to perpetuate the national malaise.

Reagan may have been the Great Communicator but watching the nonsense about the Iran-Contra affair and hearing him repeat how he "had no specific recollection of those events" made me decide he was either lying or in the throes of dementia even then.

Bush the Elder was tainted by the same thing.

Clinton was swept in and we got to split hairs on what constitutes sexual relations and how to define the word "is."

Now for the last two terms we've had Dubya who rammed the Unpatriotic Act down our throats and led us to Iraq based on lies.

Lord.Have.Mercy

So, given that lineup of leaders do you understand why I am pretty skeptical regarding any candidate? Now I have a daughter who will miss being old enough to vote this November by a little over a month. However, a high percentage of her classmates will be old enough and a lot of them are very excited about having their voices heard. Seeing these kids paying attention and anxious to cast their first vote gives me some hope.

Let's consider the fact that for their entire lives they have only had a Bush or a Clinton in office. That's a bit sobering to me. It feels kind of dynastic to me. I don't like that. For that reason as well as some others I absolutely will not vote for Hillary. I haven't decided who I think the best candidate is but I don't even want to consider that we might possibly have another 8 years of a Clinton. Four of Bush the Elder, 8 of Slick Willy, 8 of Dubya the Idiot, and possibly 8 of Hillary. Folks, that is TWENTY-EIGHT years of TWO families holding the highest office. Is that what the USA is about? I sure hope not.

Now, in Pennsylvania we don't hold our primary until the end of April. Never in my life has a Presidential primary meant a bucket of spit as far as determining who the candidate will be because by then it has always been long decided. Along with that, I refuse to declare a party because I am deeply cynical about all things political and I think both the Democratic and the Republican parties are full of shit and more concerned about grabbing and holding on to power as long as they can, not about serving the best interest of our nation or her people. In other states a voter doesn't have to declare a party in order to cast a vote in the primary. They walk up, ask for a ballot of whichever party they want and cast a vote. In PA a citizen must declare a party in order to vote during the primary. I once went to vote only on a referendum item that was up during a primary election and the poll workers had fits at me until I told them I was ONLY voting on the referendum not the candidates.

So why am I telling you all of this? Well, Hillary won Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island yesterday, which means she will not be conceding any time soon. As such, Pennsylvania finally matters in the primary. Much as it pains me to declare a party and makes me feel like a piece of my soul is going to die to do so, I am going to go declare myself a Democrat for long enough to vote AGAINST Hillary. The day after the primary I'm going back to being unaffiliated. Many years ago I declared myself a Republican long enough to vote against one of their candidates who I found completely odious. I guess this will cosmically balance out that but I am pretty sure I am still going to need some sort of ritual cleansing when I undeclare myself. If you have the name of a good shaman, exorcist or other person who may help in restoring my conscience and calm leave the particulars in the comments.

Whatever happens, I am thankful to live in a country where I can spout off like this without fear of reprisal. You all are welcome to disagree with my thoughts here or tell me I am wrong to vote against instead of for a candidate. All I ask is that you remain civil in your comments.

While I Was Gone...

Rose Michelle tagged me with the ubiquitous Random/Weird/Bizarre Things About Myself Meme. We share a name, a passion for chocolate, and she said really nice things about me, plus I like the girl so I can't refuse her. But I am warning anyone else who thinks I can be swayed by flattery in the attempt to get me to do this particular meme one more time after this...It ain't gonna happen unless the flattery involves a significant deposit into my bank account and being slowly and thoroughly oiled up by the masseur of my choice while simultaneously being fed the finest chocolates.

I think her version requires 7 factoids so, starting with something chocolate, here goes...

*image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/azbeachbum/20413660/

1. When I was 6 I went to Hershey Park with my mom, my brother, and my grandparents. I got separated from everyone and became quite hysterical because I was convinced I'd never see anyone in my family for the rest of my life.

2. In spite of that traumatic experience, sometime during 2008 I am hoping to go the the Spa at Hotel Hershey with my best friend, Gwennie so we can celebrate our 40th birthdays being pampered in chocolate together. It's kinda pricey and we are both rather broke so it may or may not happen.

3. Mr. Lime's grandfather worked in the Hershey Factory most of his life. I am considered a heretic for preferring the flavor of Nestle's chocolate syrup to Herhsey's.

4. I pronounce the word syrup as SEARup. Mr. Lime and his family say SIRup. I consider them heretics.

5. Since I grew up near Philadelphia I used to pronounce the word water as WOODer. It's a local inflection I have been cured of though years of browbeating. Yes, I realize it sounds ridiculous to anyone outside southeast Pennsylvania but if you've ever seen or tasted the Schuylkill River you might understand why we don't call it WAHter. By the way, the correct pronunciation for the name of the river is Skookle.

6. There is also a road in the vicinity of Philadelphia called the Schuylkill Expressway. I have memories of my mother driving there with a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel trying to figure out how to get us to the Jersey Shore when I was a kid. Both the river and the road are sometimes referred to as "The Surekill."

7. While I am on my Philly kick....I believe sandwiches consisting of lettuce, tomato, onion, cold cuts, cheese and some sort of dressing on a long, hard roll should always be referred to as HOAGIES. They are not subs. A sub is a ocean going vessel that spends long periods of time completely submerged. They are not heroes. Heroes are people who engage in brave and selfless acts for the well being of others. Heroes can even be found on subs. The sandwich is called a H-O-A-G-I-E! That is, unless it is a cheesesteak, in which case I believe if you have to qualify the thing as a PHILLY cheesesteak it is obviously a poor imitation not worth even considering.

*image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/wmliu/521276026/

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Philadelphia Your accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington. if you've ever journeyed to some far off place where people don't know that Philly has an accent, someone may have thought you talked a little weird even though they didn't have a clue what accent it was they heard.
The Northeast
The Midland
The South
The Inland North
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

As a point of clarification for the folks born and bred on the West coast of the USA....all Easterners do not sound like they come from New York or Boston.

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

I have to start out by saying the week in Georgia went much better than I thought it might. I've gone back and forth about how much to share or not share mainly out of respect for the folks involved. I could write a whole series of posts on the unpleasant history my MIL and I have had but that's not really fair to her. There's a lot I'd like to say so you could all understand how amazing a thing it is that we spent a week together with no one else in the family and I never once felt like smothering her with a pillow nor did she ever seem ready to hurl profanities or an empty vodka bottle at me. I think she was glad to have me there and I was happy to be of service to her. We've come a long way.

My dad left a message on my cellphone in the middle of the week asking if I was ok or if the Civil War had been reignited. It was truly another momentous occasion for MY dad to take the initiative to express that level of concern. Maybe the best thing to say is what I told him....no rekindling of North/South hostilities but there was a tornado one night and a snow on the ground the next night. Perhaps the strange weather was marking the seismic shifts in demeanors all the way around. And I think for the sake of decency and fairness I need to leave it at that.

But hey, maybe I can take your advice and start a new series....Lime's Tastes Better than Swill Recipes.

Home

Arrived safe and sound today. Glad I could be a help but glad I will get to sleep in my own bed tonight. MIL is nervous but I think she will be ok on her own. She's smart enough not to take stupid risks and the neighbors are checking in. There are many things I am cogitating regarding the week in GA... too much to quite put into words right now.

Again, thanks to all for the well-wishes, prayers, and general encouragement. I saw much improvement in MILs physical ability over the week and my back survived (though I am definitely looking forward to seeing the chiropractor on Monday). We also managed to get along reasonably well.