In the past I have talked about how grateful I've been for the friendships I've formed here and for the supportive community. I think all of us who have been here for a length of time have faced various trials and found our blog pals to be wonderfully supportive in those times. I know I have. Without going into a lot of detail as to what brought about my most recent realization I'm going to count the sense of safety I have found in the blog world. I hope it makes sense.
It seems a strange thing because I'll grant you there are always security issues which pertain to online life, which perhaps don't exist so much elsewhere. However, the space I've cultivated here and the spirit so many of you bring to it have helped to make me feel safe in expressing things that might have otherwise stayed bottled up. I've been able to stretch myself creatively when I've wanted to and get feedback. I've been able to share things on my heart and receive encouragement and wisdom. We've been able to laugh together in amusement and without derision. On rare occasions when I've revealed things that have brought me to tears you've given gentle comfort. I've found among you friends I cherish as deeply as if you lived next door.
To those who have received me graciously and gently, thank you for being a part of my safe place.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Gone to the Virtual Beach...
...so I can nap on the soft sand while the sound of ocean lulls me.
Be back soon.
(Yes, that's really me on the blanket.)
Monday, April 26, 2010
Avgolemono
If you can't pronounce that don't worry about it. Just call it Greek Lemon Chicken Soup. It's been a long while since I posted a recipe here but yesterday as I was cooking I thought perhaps it was time once again. It was a cold, dreary, rainy day and a couple of members of Chez Lime were not feeling well so chicken soup seemed a good thing to make. Mind you, I like regular chicken soup as much as the next person but I am especially fond of Avgolemono because of the extra little lemon zing. This recipe is adapted from an old cookbook I found among my grandmother's things after she died 12 years ago. I was happy to find this recipe in it but the first few times I made it were visual flops. After some coaching from a Greek neighbor and a friend who was taught to make this by her yia yia (Greek for grandmother) I was able to get it right. So when I give you directions know it's not just for my own indulgence. It's for your own good and the good of the soup. Ok, let's get cooking. Here's what you'll need.
AVGOLEMONO SOUP
6 cups of chicken stock (I like to make my own and then use the meat from that for the soup but yesterday I didn't have time for that so I grabbed some organic low sodium broth from the pantry. I go for low sodium not just for health reasons but for taste because otherwise things just taste too darned salty. I like to control the amount of salt in a dish. If you want a salt lick in a bowl, get the other kind. It's your blood pressure. If you need to know how to make your own stock go google a recipe somewhere. I don't have time to go over that today.)
juice of half a lemon (Yes, I squeeze the lemon. Then I strain it. No one wants seeds and pulp in their soup. If you're hellbent on using reconstituted juice figure out how much it is. I have no idea.)
2 Tbsp water (That would be two molecules of hydrogen to every one molecule of oxygen combined and repeated over and over to make 2 Tbsp. If the chemistry is daunting and unwieldy just turn on your faucet.)
2 eggs
1/2 cup orzo pasta (Here is where I diverge from Nana's cookbook. The author says 4 Tbsp of rice. I like rice shaped pasta instead of actual rice but you do what you want, ok? I can cut you that much latitude.)
meat from chicken bones (Since I didn't make my own stock I just threw a couple of boneless breasts in the oven and then shredded them up after they were cooked. I'm going to be a stickler for technique here but we can be flexible about some of the ingredients. Keep up, would ya?)
black pepper and sea salt to taste (Your taste may differ from mine so whatever works for you. If your pot tastes like a salt lick though I'm not interested in it.)
-Put the stock and orzo in a pot and heat. Once it reaches a boil cover it and simmer until the pasta is al dente. I'll admit I kind of over did it a bit yesterday so it got overly soft. You've been warned.
-While the stock is coming to boil whisk the eggs thoroughly in a big bowl, not massive but eventually the bowl will have about 3 cups of fluid you need to be whisking around so it has to accommodate that unless you're fond of having this mess fly all over your counter. Mix the lemon juice and water together then slowly add it to the eggs as you continue whisking them. This is the part where you practice that slow adding and whisking at the same time. You're going to be doing a lot of that for this recipe. It's really important later on.
-Once the pasta is al dente take the pot off the heat and remove 2 cups of the broth. VERY SLOWLY add this to the lemon/egg mixture as you continue to whisk. When I say very slowly, I mean it. If you go dumping all that boiling hot broth into your eggs willy nilly just forget it. You're going to have curdled eggs and nasty looking soup. It will still be edible but it will look like vomit in a bowl, which is not terribly appetizing. So just take yer flippin' time already! Slow down! I mean add it drip by drip, seriously. It took me several minutes to add 2 cups of hot broth to the eggs. And don't stop whisking...again, it's the risk of a bowl of pukey looking soup.
-Now that you've practiced that you get to do it some more. Take that brother/egg/lemon mixture and VERY SLOWLY add it back to the pot as you stir the soup constantly. Please don't make me describe my idea of slow again. Were you not paying attention in the last step? Really, if you don't have enough of an attention span for that then just give up on this soup. This is not ADHD compatible soup. If you want that go crack open a can of chemical salt lick brew. Again, if you're not slow about it you'll have curdled soup. My friend told me her yia yia used to get the pace right by sucking air through her pursed lips while she poured with one hand and stirred with the other. Whatever works, ya know?
-After all the mixture is added back into the pot, add salt and pepper, toss in the meat, and reheat the whole thing on medium low heat until it SOUNDS like it's boiling but isn't actually having bubbles break the surface. Stir it occasionally. Once it sounds boiling take it off the heat and stir it gently.
-Ladle it into the bowls, slurp it up enjoying the slightly lemony tang. Congratulate yourself on a fine pot of soup.
Mmmmmmm........
AVGOLEMONO SOUP
6 cups of chicken stock (I like to make my own and then use the meat from that for the soup but yesterday I didn't have time for that so I grabbed some organic low sodium broth from the pantry. I go for low sodium not just for health reasons but for taste because otherwise things just taste too darned salty. I like to control the amount of salt in a dish. If you want a salt lick in a bowl, get the other kind. It's your blood pressure. If you need to know how to make your own stock go google a recipe somewhere. I don't have time to go over that today.)
juice of half a lemon (Yes, I squeeze the lemon. Then I strain it. No one wants seeds and pulp in their soup. If you're hellbent on using reconstituted juice figure out how much it is. I have no idea.)
2 Tbsp water (That would be two molecules of hydrogen to every one molecule of oxygen combined and repeated over and over to make 2 Tbsp. If the chemistry is daunting and unwieldy just turn on your faucet.)
2 eggs
1/2 cup orzo pasta (Here is where I diverge from Nana's cookbook. The author says 4 Tbsp of rice. I like rice shaped pasta instead of actual rice but you do what you want, ok? I can cut you that much latitude.)
meat from chicken bones (Since I didn't make my own stock I just threw a couple of boneless breasts in the oven and then shredded them up after they were cooked. I'm going to be a stickler for technique here but we can be flexible about some of the ingredients. Keep up, would ya?)
black pepper and sea salt to taste (Your taste may differ from mine so whatever works for you. If your pot tastes like a salt lick though I'm not interested in it.)
-Put the stock and orzo in a pot and heat. Once it reaches a boil cover it and simmer until the pasta is al dente. I'll admit I kind of over did it a bit yesterday so it got overly soft. You've been warned.
-While the stock is coming to boil whisk the eggs thoroughly in a big bowl, not massive but eventually the bowl will have about 3 cups of fluid you need to be whisking around so it has to accommodate that unless you're fond of having this mess fly all over your counter. Mix the lemon juice and water together then slowly add it to the eggs as you continue whisking them. This is the part where you practice that slow adding and whisking at the same time. You're going to be doing a lot of that for this recipe. It's really important later on.
-Once the pasta is al dente take the pot off the heat and remove 2 cups of the broth. VERY SLOWLY add this to the lemon/egg mixture as you continue to whisk. When I say very slowly, I mean it. If you go dumping all that boiling hot broth into your eggs willy nilly just forget it. You're going to have curdled eggs and nasty looking soup. It will still be edible but it will look like vomit in a bowl, which is not terribly appetizing. So just take yer flippin' time already! Slow down! I mean add it drip by drip, seriously. It took me several minutes to add 2 cups of hot broth to the eggs. And don't stop whisking...again, it's the risk of a bowl of pukey looking soup.
-Now that you've practiced that you get to do it some more. Take that brother/egg/lemon mixture and VERY SLOWLY add it back to the pot as you stir the soup constantly. Please don't make me describe my idea of slow again. Were you not paying attention in the last step? Really, if you don't have enough of an attention span for that then just give up on this soup. This is not ADHD compatible soup. If you want that go crack open a can of chemical salt lick brew. Again, if you're not slow about it you'll have curdled soup. My friend told me her yia yia used to get the pace right by sucking air through her pursed lips while she poured with one hand and stirred with the other. Whatever works, ya know?
-After all the mixture is added back into the pot, add salt and pepper, toss in the meat, and reheat the whole thing on medium low heat until it SOUNDS like it's boiling but isn't actually having bubbles break the surface. Stir it occasionally. Once it sounds boiling take it off the heat and stir it gently.
-Ladle it into the bowls, slurp it up enjoying the slightly lemony tang. Congratulate yourself on a fine pot of soup.
Mmmmmmm........
Friday, April 23, 2010
Friday 55-Flight
*image from secondattention.orgDanger approaches
but I am paralyzed.
Fear finally moves my feet
though I plod through quicksand.
As the chase continues,
my muscles strain
until I find solid ground,
gain speed.
The predator closes in.
I feel his hot breath,
know he will overtake me
with one lunge
until
my final surge
sends me safely skyward.
but I am paralyzed.
Fear finally moves my feet
though I plod through quicksand.
As the chase continues,
my muscles strain
until I find solid ground,
gain speed.
The predator closes in.
I feel his hot breath,
know he will overtake me
with one lunge
until
my final surge
sends me safely skyward.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Slice of Lime- A Silly Time
I admit it, I'm a sucker for photo booths. I was cleaning off my desk and found these old strips. I used to have them on my bedroom mirror but they were fading horribly so I scanned them and touched them up a little to save the images. I have missed playing around to come up with something artistic for Slice of Lime. Even though I can make my camera play nice with my computer now, the camera itself doesn't like to play nice with me as it's dying a slow, painful death. Time has also become a bit of an issue. One of these days I will get back to something more creative. In the meantime enjoy the family full of weirdness.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Say What?
On occasion when things get really busy at work I manage to make some pretty ridiculous verbal flubs. Please try not to be too shocked by that revelation. A few days ago I was relating a conversation with a patient to a coworker to confirm I had made contact. I said, "I spalked with her yesterday." I never even realized my goof until 2 coworkers turned blue laughing. (Why yes, we are easily entertained, why do you ask?)
Last week four of us were trying to figure out which patient had left a message. There were no fewer than six theories as to the name and location of said patient, none of which were accurate. It was as if that old playground game of Whisper Down the Lane had been played by half-deaf, semi-addled speakers of 4 different languages.
Earlier this week I had another gaffe.
When I answer the phones I am supposed to say, "Hello, XYZ Chiropractic. This is Michelle speaking. We can help you." Simple enough, right? Never underestimate my ability to mess up simple things.
The phone rang during peak times and I answered, "Hello, this is XYZ Chiropractic. Michelle speaking. We can hear you." As soon as the words came out of my mouth I realized I had said something wrong and I wondered allowed what on Earth prompted that as three of my coworkers crumpled to the floor in hysterics over my goof (I told you it didn't take much for this group). I said to the caller as I laughed, "Well, I meant to say we can HELP you and although I could hear you when I first answered I'm having a bit of trouble at the moment due to the cackling in the background. Sorry about the confusion. Could you please repeat your name?"
The caller laughed as she remarked about the relative perfection my coworkers must attain and assured me she didn't mind repeating herself but it seemed this must be the week for folks misspeaking. A few nights earlier she and her husband had gone to dinner. At the end of the meal the waitress came to inquire as to whether or not this couple would care to order dessert by asking, "Can I interest you in a divorce?" Does one serve that dish en flambe or ice cold, I wonder?
Last week four of us were trying to figure out which patient had left a message. There were no fewer than six theories as to the name and location of said patient, none of which were accurate. It was as if that old playground game of Whisper Down the Lane had been played by half-deaf, semi-addled speakers of 4 different languages.
Earlier this week I had another gaffe.
When I answer the phones I am supposed to say, "Hello, XYZ Chiropractic. This is Michelle speaking. We can help you." Simple enough, right? Never underestimate my ability to mess up simple things.
The phone rang during peak times and I answered, "Hello, this is XYZ Chiropractic. Michelle speaking. We can hear you." As soon as the words came out of my mouth I realized I had said something wrong and I wondered allowed what on Earth prompted that as three of my coworkers crumpled to the floor in hysterics over my goof (I told you it didn't take much for this group). I said to the caller as I laughed, "Well, I meant to say we can HELP you and although I could hear you when I first answered I'm having a bit of trouble at the moment due to the cackling in the background. Sorry about the confusion. Could you please repeat your name?"
The caller laughed as she remarked about the relative perfection my coworkers must attain and assured me she didn't mind repeating herself but it seemed this must be the week for folks misspeaking. A few nights earlier she and her husband had gone to dinner. At the end of the meal the waitress came to inquire as to whether or not this couple would care to order dessert by asking, "Can I interest you in a divorce?" Does one serve that dish en flambe or ice cold, I wonder?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Trini Tuesday-Calypso Roots
Last week I posted a video which a number of you seemed to enjoy. I thought this week I'd polish up a post from the first couple of months of this blog. Today I'll share a little bit about Calypso music, which was born in Trinidad.
Now before you start humming Jamaica Farewell or the Banana Boat Song let's get one thing straight. Dat ain't calypso, boy! It has a calypso beat, but beat alone does not a true calypso make. No disrespect to Harry Belafonte, but it his stuff too polished, too tame, too benign, too bland to be the real article. It is a watered down version of what began as a way for slaves to communicate when it was forbidden for them to speak. True Calypso music has an edge to it and offers incisive social commentary or political observations.
Like so many Caribbean islands, Trinidad was populated by slaves to work the sugar plantations. Most of the slaves came from West Africa where a musical form called Kaiso was commonly used by griots, or story tellers, to pass news, history, and folklore. Caribbean slave masters prohibited talking in the fields but permitted singing, not realizing the songs were not mere amusement, but part of a grapevine passing news and sharing both scathing and humorous observations on the masters and ruling classes. Calypso is still sometimes referred to as Kaiso.
The French introduced "Carnival" to Spanish Trinidad. The Brits later gained control and disapproved of such raucous celebration. They foolishly thought banning bamboo bands, music, and Carnival itself would put an end to the riotous behavior. However, when sugar cane is harvested the fields are first set afire in what the French called cannes brulees and what the local patois morphed into canboulay. Carnival may have been banned but while the fields were burning the slaves celebrated canboulay with dancing and song during a bit of freedom since few slave masters cared to be around burning cane fields. Under lax supervision, the slaves sang the rowdiest songs and gave full voice to their opinions of their masters and the conditions at the time. Suggestive dancing as a flagrant form of rebellion also figured quite prominently and became a well entrenched in the style.
At the beginning of the 20th century, among semi-literate peoples, Calypso was still one of the most common ways to spread news of current events. It was considered reliable and it pushed the limits of free speech with its denunciation of local and British politicians in ways print never would have permitted. In the 1940's Aldwyn Roberts (Lord Kitchener) emerged as a Calypso artist. He continued to perform until his death in 2001 and is considered by many to be the greatest calypsonian for his longevity, commentary, encouragement of younger musicians, and development of a worldwide audience for the form.
Today, calypso continues to offer humorous, often highly critical views of current events, but reflects the more widespread popularity of the genre and the migration of Caribbean people. Calypso in Trinidad is often regarded as an expression of the Afro-Trini mindset. This has led to the development in more recent years of the chutney style of Calypso, which gives the perspective of the large Indo-Trini population. Soca music, which is less concerned with social commentary but maintains the calypso rhythms in a more danceable style, has also evolved from Calypso, as has Rapso music, which blends hip-hop and urban styles with a Caribbean flavor.
Now all yuh get on bad an' lemme see yuh wine dem hips to some true Calypso music!
Now before you start humming Jamaica Farewell or the Banana Boat Song let's get one thing straight. Dat ain't calypso, boy! It has a calypso beat, but beat alone does not a true calypso make. No disrespect to Harry Belafonte, but it his stuff too polished, too tame, too benign, too bland to be the real article. It is a watered down version of what began as a way for slaves to communicate when it was forbidden for them to speak. True Calypso music has an edge to it and offers incisive social commentary or political observations.
Like so many Caribbean islands, Trinidad was populated by slaves to work the sugar plantations. Most of the slaves came from West Africa where a musical form called Kaiso was commonly used by griots, or story tellers, to pass news, history, and folklore. Caribbean slave masters prohibited talking in the fields but permitted singing, not realizing the songs were not mere amusement, but part of a grapevine passing news and sharing both scathing and humorous observations on the masters and ruling classes. Calypso is still sometimes referred to as Kaiso.
The French introduced "Carnival" to Spanish Trinidad. The Brits later gained control and disapproved of such raucous celebration. They foolishly thought banning bamboo bands, music, and Carnival itself would put an end to the riotous behavior. However, when sugar cane is harvested the fields are first set afire in what the French called cannes brulees and what the local patois morphed into canboulay. Carnival may have been banned but while the fields were burning the slaves celebrated canboulay with dancing and song during a bit of freedom since few slave masters cared to be around burning cane fields. Under lax supervision, the slaves sang the rowdiest songs and gave full voice to their opinions of their masters and the conditions at the time. Suggestive dancing as a flagrant form of rebellion also figured quite prominently and became a well entrenched in the style.
At the beginning of the 20th century, among semi-literate peoples, Calypso was still one of the most common ways to spread news of current events. It was considered reliable and it pushed the limits of free speech with its denunciation of local and British politicians in ways print never would have permitted. In the 1940's Aldwyn Roberts (Lord Kitchener) emerged as a Calypso artist. He continued to perform until his death in 2001 and is considered by many to be the greatest calypsonian for his longevity, commentary, encouragement of younger musicians, and development of a worldwide audience for the form.
Today, calypso continues to offer humorous, often highly critical views of current events, but reflects the more widespread popularity of the genre and the migration of Caribbean people. Calypso in Trinidad is often regarded as an expression of the Afro-Trini mindset. This has led to the development in more recent years of the chutney style of Calypso, which gives the perspective of the large Indo-Trini population. Soca music, which is less concerned with social commentary but maintains the calypso rhythms in a more danceable style, has also evolved from Calypso, as has Rapso music, which blends hip-hop and urban styles with a Caribbean flavor.
Now all yuh get on bad an' lemme see yuh wine dem hips to some true Calypso music!
Monday, April 19, 2010
The iPod Oracle
Any time I've ever seen this the "rules" say to put your iPod on shuffle and plug in whatever song comes up. Pffft, we don't need no steenking rules. I put it on shuffle and clicked through until I found an song that made me laugh or smile in some way.
How does the world see me?
Crazy by Aerosmith or Crazy by Tori Amos or Crazy by Seal (quite the them I have going, eh?)
What do you think of your best friend?
Crazier Than Me by Andy Toomey and the Gear Jammers (scary, huh?)
Will I have a happy life?
Si Senor by Gloria EstefanHow does the world see me?
Crazy by Aerosmith or Crazy by Tori Amos or Crazy by Seal (quite the them I have going, eh?)
What do you think of your best friend?
Crazier Than Me by Andy Toomey and the Gear Jammers (scary, huh?)
Will I have a happy life?
What’s going to happen next?
Why Don't We Do It in the Road? by The Beatles
What do my friends really think of me?
Hard Headed Woman by Elvis Presley
Do people secretly lust after me?
Love is Different by Caedmon's Call
How can I make myself happy?
Dancing Under the Moon by Ottmar Liebert
What should I do with my life?
What Do U Want Me 2 Do? by Prince
Should I have more children?
With Imagination by Harry Connick, Jr
What is some good advice for me?
Please No Squeeza De Banana by Louis Prima
Don't Eat the Yellow Snow by frank Zappa
How will I be remembered?
We Have Forgotten by Sixpence None the Richer
What is my signature song?
The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson
What does everyone else think my signature song is?
Ironic by Alanis Morissette
What song will play at my funeral?
I'm Movin' On by Ray Charles
What type of men do I like?
Quality by Paul Simon
Where should I go on vacation?With Imagination by Harry Connick, Jr
What is some good advice for me?
Please No Squeeza De Banana by Louis Prima
Don't Eat the Yellow Snow by frank Zappa
How will I be remembered?
We Have Forgotten by Sixpence None the Richer
What is my signature song?
The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson
What does everyone else think my signature song is?
Ironic by Alanis Morissette
What song will play at my funeral?
I'm Movin' On by Ray Charles
What type of men do I like?
Quality by Paul Simon
She's Only Happy in the Sun by Ben Harper
What do I think about often?
Cake by Jim Gaffigan
What is your hobby?
Kidney Bingos by Wire
What is your life's purpose?
Soul Sacrifice by Santana
What is your life story?
Say Hello, Wave Goodbye by David Gray
What is your biggest secret?
Haunted by Evanescence
What do you think of your parents? (a stupid question but since I have selections which specifically address this...)
My Father Confused Me and Mothers Enunciate by Bill Cosby
What is your motto?
I'll Be Ok by Sondre Lerche
What do you want to be when you grow up?
Hot Mama by Trace Atkins
even though what I am is one of the
Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen (likely because of too many visits to the Ice Cream Man by Van Halen)
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday 55-Drowning/Da Count-Breathing Again
FRIDAY 55
*image from deviantart.com
Silent descent
drifting downward
where water's embrace lulls me
in the gentle pull of gravity
until my lungs burn
I beg for air
panic
and reach
for sunlight
to grasp only aquamarine
see the last few bubbles
rising from my lips
escaping to the surface
as I swallow blackness
and the sunless deep
engulfs me
*image from deviantart.comSilent descent
drifting downward
where water's embrace lulls me
in the gentle pull of gravity
until my lungs burn
I beg for air
panic
and reach
for sunlight
to grasp only aquamarine
see the last few bubbles
rising from my lips
escaping to the surface
as I swallow blackness
and the sunless deep
engulfs me
DA COUNT
Calypso is a bright girl who hasn't always lived up to her potential. She's a middle child situated between a tenacious, over achieving older sister and a popular brother for whom academic success comes easily. She is musically talented but hasn't wanted to put much energy into honing her natural abilities. She hasn't wanted to put any real effort into academics. You may recall she began at a new school in the fall and then transitioned back to her former school in January. She had come to the conclusion herself that the academics at the new school were sorely lacking. She admitted without any prompting that she simply had not applied herself at her old school. She has definitely taken things much more seriously since her return. There have been a few glitches but she has persevered through them unlike her previous inclination to give up. Earlier this week I got an excited call while I was at work. "Mom, guess who made the honor roll for the first time!" I congratulated her and said I knew she had it in her but I was proud of her and glad she knew it too now. It was a breath of fresh air to get that news.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Slice of Lime-Sleeping In
I've been having long days and late nights this week. Last night when I went to bed Mr. Lime was tossing and turning so violently it kept me awake. Fortunately, one of the benefits of a kid at college is a spare bed. I grabbed my pillow and moved to her bed.
I slept much better without a thrashing bed mate.
I slept so well I never heard anyone else get up
and never woke up until 9am.
Aaahhh....
Felt good.
I slept much better without a thrashing bed mate.
I slept so well I never heard anyone else get up
and never woke up until 9am.
Aaahhh....
Felt good.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
And Now a Meme
Write some lyrics from the song you're listening to?
You mean new lyrics?
Do you open up to people easily?
My eyes? My mind? My arms? Or my legs? It all depends...
Has anyone given you a compliment today?
Someone said I was demented, another said I was jiggly. Both of those statements could be taken as compliments or insults depending on who said them.
What do your friends call you?
Do they want to remain my friends?
Has anyone upset you in the last week?
I have a pretty low center of gravity so I'm fairly stable.
What usually causes your relationships to end?
Beheading
What's the best thing about you?
My extreme humility
Do you think you would be a good parent?
Would be? I think we are well past the theoretical stage already.
Who was the last person of the opposite sex you had a conversation with?
Define "conversation."
Whats your favorite drink?
The blood of my enemies
Do you miss anyone?
Only if the scope on my rifle isn't properly sighted in
What were you doing at 3 AM this morning?
Slumbering blissfully
Is your room clean?
Clean enough to live in, dirty enough to be happy.
What are you going to do tomorrow?
Let me get through today before I decide, Ok?
What is in store for your future?
I have a future in storage?
You mean new lyrics?
Do you open up to people easily?
My eyes? My mind? My arms? Or my legs? It all depends...
Has anyone given you a compliment today?
Someone said I was demented, another said I was jiggly. Both of those statements could be taken as compliments or insults depending on who said them.
What do your friends call you?
Do they want to remain my friends?
Has anyone upset you in the last week?
I have a pretty low center of gravity so I'm fairly stable.
What usually causes your relationships to end?
Beheading
What's the best thing about you?
My extreme humility
Do you think you would be a good parent?
Would be? I think we are well past the theoretical stage already.
Who was the last person of the opposite sex you had a conversation with?
Define "conversation."
Whats your favorite drink?
The blood of my enemies
Do you miss anyone?
Only if the scope on my rifle isn't properly sighted in
What were you doing at 3 AM this morning?
Slumbering blissfully
Is your room clean?
Clean enough to live in, dirty enough to be happy.
What are you going to do tomorrow?
Let me get through today before I decide, Ok?
What is in store for your future?
I have a future in storage?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Trini Tuesday-Palancin'
Standardized testing got you down? Rough time at work lately? Then it's palancin' time!
Palancin': wandering in search of a good lime.
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Palancin': wandering in search of a good lime.
Lime: Trini slang with a range of meanings from idling about on the street corner with friends, to planning a picnic by the river or beach, to a massive party. No matter how formal or informal, planned or spontaneous, liming always involves a group. It frequently includes food, drink, and possibly music.
Monday, April 12, 2010
We Interupt This Regularly Scheduled Blog...
...for a rant.
It's the most miserable time of the year. Don't let the warm weather and sunshine fool you because you won't get to enjoy it if you are healthy school aged person who has been raring to get outside to fill your lungs with fresh air and work up a good old fashioned sweat. Why, you ask? Well, in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania it's time for standardized testing. So sharpen those #2 pencils and break out the bubble sheets, kiddos! You're going to need them for the next three weeks. that's right, not one or two, three freaking weeks of gloriously mindless filling in of tiny blank dots on reams of paper.
Now, I have a degree in education. I know standardized tests are sometimes a necessary evil and under some circumstances they yield useful information in a larger total picture of a particular student's achievement and abilities. There is some value in their judicious use. However, in my opinion they've become a crutch for lazy assessment made on a large scale. Since the travesty known as No ChildGets Ahead Left Behind was enacted they've been hopped up on bureaucratic steroids and ballooned into freakishly artificial monsters.
I've watched truly excellent locally produced curricula be gutted entirely so there could be time for (God help me, I have to count to 10 before I can even type this out.) "standardized test preparation." (Now excuse me while I take a moment to let loose with a primal scream anyway.) You know, because it's so much more valuable to be able to fill in the bubble sheets to get a score that makes the school look good so it can continue to get a pittance of federal funding rather than to have creative units on local history and space exploration that get the kids really excited and motivated to learn about all sorts of things they never considered before...maybe even to the point where they start doing their own research and start telling the grownups around them about the new things they've learned, things the grownups maybe didn't even know. We certainly don't want any of THAT happening. Give that kid a test packet and settle him down, damn it. We don't want enthusiasm, we want conformity!
While we're at it let's make sure we schedule it for the first weeks of gorgeous weather after a long winter. We really don't want them getting hopeful about something as silly as sunshine. They might expect that as adults too then and who would fill the corporate cubicles then?
All that crap really grinds my gears enough as it is but final insult that makes me want to stand on the roof of the school with a megaphone and shout like a banshee is the form letters and automated phone calls I get with regard to these tests. At no other time of the year does the school seem to give a rat's ass whether or not my kids have gotten a good night's sleep or eaten a proper breakfast but in the weeks leading up to testing I get a mailbox full of letters to tell me how critically important it is, what I need to be doing to encourage a right attitude in "my student" toward this testing. (And seriously, don't even start me on my ire over them referring to my CHILD as my STUDENT.), and finally how nothing short of bubonic plague infection or death had better keep them from attending school during testing. Now, during the weeks of testing I will get numerous automated phone calls at all times of the day and evening to remind me of the same.
What a complete and utter load of festering bovine excrement.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled frivolity or as Suldog might say, "Soon with mo' better stuff."
It's the most miserable time of the year. Don't let the warm weather and sunshine fool you because you won't get to enjoy it if you are healthy school aged person who has been raring to get outside to fill your lungs with fresh air and work up a good old fashioned sweat. Why, you ask? Well, in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania it's time for standardized testing. So sharpen those #2 pencils and break out the bubble sheets, kiddos! You're going to need them for the next three weeks. that's right, not one or two, three freaking weeks of gloriously mindless filling in of tiny blank dots on reams of paper.
Now, I have a degree in education. I know standardized tests are sometimes a necessary evil and under some circumstances they yield useful information in a larger total picture of a particular student's achievement and abilities. There is some value in their judicious use. However, in my opinion they've become a crutch for lazy assessment made on a large scale. Since the travesty known as No Child
I've watched truly excellent locally produced curricula be gutted entirely so there could be time for (God help me, I have to count to 10 before I can even type this out.) "standardized test preparation." (Now excuse me while I take a moment to let loose with a primal scream anyway.) You know, because it's so much more valuable to be able to fill in the bubble sheets to get a score that makes the school look good so it can continue to get a pittance of federal funding rather than to have creative units on local history and space exploration that get the kids really excited and motivated to learn about all sorts of things they never considered before...maybe even to the point where they start doing their own research and start telling the grownups around them about the new things they've learned, things the grownups maybe didn't even know. We certainly don't want any of THAT happening. Give that kid a test packet and settle him down, damn it. We don't want enthusiasm, we want conformity!
While we're at it let's make sure we schedule it for the first weeks of gorgeous weather after a long winter. We really don't want them getting hopeful about something as silly as sunshine. They might expect that as adults too then and who would fill the corporate cubicles then?
All that crap really grinds my gears enough as it is but final insult that makes me want to stand on the roof of the school with a megaphone and shout like a banshee is the form letters and automated phone calls I get with regard to these tests. At no other time of the year does the school seem to give a rat's ass whether or not my kids have gotten a good night's sleep or eaten a proper breakfast but in the weeks leading up to testing I get a mailbox full of letters to tell me how critically important it is, what I need to be doing to encourage a right attitude in "my student" toward this testing. (And seriously, don't even start me on my ire over them referring to my CHILD as my STUDENT.), and finally how nothing short of bubonic plague infection or death had better keep them from attending school during testing. Now, during the weeks of testing I will get numerous automated phone calls at all times of the day and evening to remind me of the same.
What a complete and utter load of festering bovine excrement.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled frivolity or as Suldog might say, "Soon with mo' better stuff."
Friday, April 09, 2010
Friday 55 & Da Count-Poetry Month
FRIDAY 55
It would have been brilliant really.
You would have read the words and been so touched
the lump would have caught in your throat.
I would have had the satisfaction
of making you breathless
with my eloquence.
If only I'd had a paper and pen
to retain inspiration
before it evaporated
in the sun.
DA COUNT
It would have been brilliant really.
You would have read the words and been so touched
the lump would have caught in your throat.
I would have had the satisfaction
of making you breathless
with my eloquence.
If only I'd had a paper and pen
to retain inspiration
before it evaporated
in the sun.
DA COUNT
I sincerely hope you realize the 55 above is very firmly tongue in cheek. I do love poetry. I like that a gifted poet can take a few lines to express something succinctly and perhaps from a perspective I never considered before. I like the play of rhythms and alliteration without things becoming too sing-songy. I liked it in school even when my classmates were dying of boredom. Then again, I liked diagramming sentences too. I'm strange that way. Just like my musical tastes are rather eclectic, so are my tastes in poetry.. I enjoy Walt Whitman, Pablo Neruda, Sara Teasdale, Ogden Nash, Shel Silverstein,Dorothy Parker, William Butler Yeats, William Carlos Williams, Rabindranath Tagore, and the list goes on....
One of my favorite sites is PoemHunter.com. It's a good place for looking up the poets you already know (pardon the proliferation of pop-ups though) and it allows you to keep a list of your favorite poems. I'm also a big fan of The Writer's Almanac. I look forward to the daily email of a poem and literary history. It feeds my love of poetry AND my love of trivia. How great is that?
Now I ask you to tell me who are your favorite poets and will you share a favorite poem with me? Or perhaps you'd even share one you wrote.
UPDATE 10:52 am: I just went to visit Tim and found a marvelous...well, poem is not the word he uses. Do enjoy.
One of my favorite sites is PoemHunter.com. It's a good place for looking up the poets you already know (pardon the proliferation of pop-ups though) and it allows you to keep a list of your favorite poems. I'm also a big fan of The Writer's Almanac. I look forward to the daily email of a poem and literary history. It feeds my love of poetry AND my love of trivia. How great is that?
Now I ask you to tell me who are your favorite poets and will you share a favorite poem with me? Or perhaps you'd even share one you wrote.
UPDATE 10:52 am: I just went to visit Tim and found a marvelous...well, poem is not the word he uses. Do enjoy.
Thursday, April 08, 2010
Slice of Lime-Don't Mess with Me
A couple of days ago the big boss at work kept joking by telling patients not to forget to bring their charts to me when they checked out or I'd yell at the boss or the patients. At one point I feigned offense and said he was making me out to sound like a real battle axe. This was all the inspiration one of my coworkers needed. She grabbed a piece of scrap paper and doodled me as this.
Charmant, non? She was careful to include the pink in my hair AND my Birkenstocks AND an impressive set of melons. I thanked her for the artistic license in making sure they were perky. I rather liked the helmet too.
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
On Occasion I Strike Myself Speechless Too
As regular readers of this blog likely know, I am a migraine sufferer. I have medication I take to try preventing them and medication to take if I get one anyway. I prefer to have them treated chiropractically because I don't really like to take meds if I don't have to. Now that I work for the guy who has treated me for 16 years I can get that treatment for free (there are 2 others chiropractors in the office as well). In addition to the regular spinal adjustments he does some cranial work when I get a headache. This involves him checking the various spots on my skull where the bones meet and pressing them until there is some release of tension. It is important to note he describes it as making sure my noggin feels like a ripe melon instead of like a bowling ball. It sounds strange perhaps, but it helps a great deal.
Now that you have the background I will share an exchange from earlier this week.
Me: (Getting off the massage therapist's table from having her work on me over lunch. She did some deep tissue work which left me a bit unsteady for a few minutes.) Hey, Doc. Would you adjust me before I have to get back to the desk. I need some cranial work too, please.
Number 1 Doc: (Calling from his office in the back.) Yep, grab a table I'll be up in a sec.
Me: (Walking to the adjusting area past 4 coworkers then noticing Number 2 Doc, who doesn't do cranial work, is already in the front) Since you're here can you give me an adjustment and then Doc #1 can come squeeze my melon?
Number 2 Doc: (His arches his eyebrows before an unusual silence descends upon everyone in the office.) Uh...sure....
Me: (As I begin to move onto the table and make eye contact with another coworker who is turning purple trying to stifle herself I have a sudden realization.) Oh...crap...uh...er....ya know, he's gonna work on my head....ack....(grabbing my head) I have a headache. Oh gees, MY HEAD, my SKULL! I meant my noggin!!! (Number 2 Doc and all the staff guffawing and making comments about whether or not our office should offer that type of service as I bury my face in the table and blush 14 shades of red.)
Now that you have the background I will share an exchange from earlier this week.
Me: (Getting off the massage therapist's table from having her work on me over lunch. She did some deep tissue work which left me a bit unsteady for a few minutes.) Hey, Doc. Would you adjust me before I have to get back to the desk. I need some cranial work too, please.
Number 1 Doc: (Calling from his office in the back.) Yep, grab a table I'll be up in a sec.
Me: (Walking to the adjusting area past 4 coworkers then noticing Number 2 Doc, who doesn't do cranial work, is already in the front) Since you're here can you give me an adjustment and then Doc #1 can come squeeze my melon?
Number 2 Doc: (His arches his eyebrows before an unusual silence descends upon everyone in the office.) Uh...sure....
Me: (As I begin to move onto the table and make eye contact with another coworker who is turning purple trying to stifle herself I have a sudden realization.) Oh...crap...uh...er....ya know, he's gonna work on my head....ack....(grabbing my head) I have a headache. Oh gees, MY HEAD, my SKULL! I meant my noggin!!! (Number 2 Doc and all the staff guffawing and making comments about whether or not our office should offer that type of service as I bury my face in the table and blush 14 shades of red.)
Monday, April 05, 2010
Mom's Garden
My mother is quite the gardener. It's a skill I didn't know she had until I was a mother myself. I expressed surprise at this "new" hobby of hers and the immediate success she had with it. She laughed and told me she'd been gardening her whole life. When I asked why I didn't remember her doing so she told me as s single mom with young kids it was one of the things she simply didn't have time for. Every time I visit her now I like to stroll around her gardens. It makes me glad that after the hardship of raising my brother and me alone she can take the time to bask in this once forgotten pleasure. On Easter we got to visit her and I had a nice stroll around her yard with her so I'll share some of what I found.
Her bleeding hearts have started to bud. I get a kick out of seeing them in her garden because she got the idea to plant them from me. I had the black thumb of death but this is one plant I have been able to grow successfully and Mom first encountered them in my yard. These buds are only about the size of my fingernail.
Her bleeding hearts have started to bud. I get a kick out of seeing them in her garden because she got the idea to plant them from me. I had the black thumb of death but this is one plant I have been able to grow successfully and Mom first encountered them in my yard. These buds are only about the size of my fingernail.
The last crocus of the season.
Magnolia buds.
Magnolia blossom. Mom has really enjoyed these this year because for so many years in the past just after the buds begin to open they've been hit with a cold snap that kills them all and turns them black.
Grecian wind flowers. these seem to be spreading like wildfire.
I think this is a weeping cherry tree.
Although the shot of the daffodil isn't all that impressive I was sort of pleased with capturing the spider, which was about the size of a pinhead. I left this file full-sized in case you want to click it to get the full view.
Wood hyacinth.
This pussy willow actually lives in my yard, not Mom's but I can take no credit since I didn't plant it and don't tend to it. It seems to thrive under my particular brand of negligence though.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Good Friday 55
*This first one is new this year but I am including the 55s from previous years as well.
The Disciple
I left my business and my home to follow him.
I sat at his feet,
swore my allegiance,
said I'd die with him.
drew my weapon in his defense.
When my test came
I cowered in the darkness,
denied we ever met,
and knew my love was nothing
as his poured out for faithless me.
The Cyrene
I came to Jerusalem for the Passover.
I heard the commotion,
saw the condemned paraded in the street.
One was barely alive.
I turned away until...
the Roman yanked me from the crowd,
laid the beam on my shoulders.
Only when I met the bloodied man's eyes
did I realize he endures the judgment
I deserve.
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 the sword plunge into his side.
The Disciple
I left my business and my home to follow him.
I sat at his feet,
swore my allegiance,
said I'd die with him.
drew my weapon in his defense.
When my test came
I cowered in the darkness,
denied we ever met,
and knew my love was nothing
as his poured out for faithless me.
The Cyrene
I came to Jerusalem for the Passover.
I heard the commotion,
saw the condemned paraded in the street.
One was barely alive.
I turned away until...
the Roman yanked me from the crowd,
laid the beam on my shoulders.
Only when I met the bloodied man's eyes
did I realize he endures the judgment
I deserve.
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 the sword plunge into his side.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Slice of Lime-Strange Traditions
Some families have lovely sentimental traditions which bind the generations together. Other families eschew tradition altogether. Then there are those which observe some rather strange rituals year after year.
Case in point, my brother and I were not taught that there was such a thing as an Easter Bunny. Judging by the bananas we are holding it would seem the Easter Monkey came to visit us. I believe my brother is actually taking a call from him.
Case in point, my brother and I were not taught that there was such a thing as an Easter Bunny. Judging by the bananas we are holding it would seem the Easter Monkey came to visit us. I believe my brother is actually taking a call from him.
I know this next tradition may come as a surprise to you all because every picture I have ever posted of myself is one of restrained and quiet dignity but I have enjoyed making ugly faces at cameras since I was small. there's a shot in my mother's photo album from when I was 4. My parent's were celebrating something and wanted a nice family picture. I got very tired of sitting nicely and waited for the photographer to tell us, Say cheese!" At the moment the picture was taken I stopped smiling, stretched my face into a grimace with my fingers, and stuck out my tongue. The photographer suggested that when I was all grown up I'd regret ruining the picture. Either I have yet to grow up at the tender age of thirty-eleven or the photographer was just W-R-O-N-G because I still laugh when I look at that picture.
Anyway, my mother-in-law bought my kids their Easter clothes every year until about 3 years ago. She asked for a nice picture of them in the clothes in return. I always met her request but typically we'd take one or two nice shots then I'd let the kids act like lunatics for the rest of the roll (back in the film days). Here's one of my favorite years.
Here is last year. There was a certain lack of enthusiasm among some individuals for either smiling or grimacing last year. Ennui seems to be the new grimace.
Finally, here is a tradition that stretches back to the days when my great grandmother filled the baskets. We'd all get the standard basket fare of chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, malted milk ball eggs and.....decapitated marshmallow peeps. To this day my kids know better than to expect an intact marshmallow peep in their baskets.
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