ELISSON’S FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS

We were watching the tube this afternoon when we heard this Eminently Quotable Comment:

“I just can’t keep my hands off the sausage!”

Who said it? Rachael Ray? Or Clay Aiken?

What's THAT?

Herewith four pictures -- all cropped from larger photos. A modest Marshall County prize -- I don't know, maybe a copy of the quilt book I co-authored-- will wing its way to the one who first comments, identifying all four photos correctly and completely. I won't make a judgment till late this evening -- and remember, completeness and precision of identification could make the difference.

And while I have you here, remember the fella who complained about my adverbs and later admitted he'd actually enjoyed the books?

Well, he's just done a very nice post about all four of my books on his blog. All is forgiven!

My 7 seconds as a Superhero

I was seven years old.

when my mom and dad took me and my younger sister, The Bug, to Mexico City.





I don't remember a whole lot about this trip, except seeing panda bears in the zoo...





and the lobby of the hotel we stayed in, Gran Hotel Ciudad de Mexico.

The lobby had antique bird-cage looking elevators and a Tiffany glass ceiling.

It was very memorable.



These pictures above were all taken by my mom in 1984.





Below are recent photos from the hotel's current website:

It was built in the 1800's and is located in Mexico City,
right off the main square, Zocalo Plaza.

When you enter from the street, this is the first thing you see:

This lobby is where my story takes place.

My parents were checking us out of the hotel,
and I was sitting on that round red settee thing (the same one in the photo!) with our bags...

and my mom's purse.

A young man came and sat near me but I wasn't really paying any attention to him.

I was probably practicing the few Spanish phrases I knew, in my head.

Como se llama?

Me llamo Rhea.

Donde esta el bano?

Gracias.

De nada.

Then I heard a strange swooshing, dragging sound.

I looked over and saw that my mom's purse, which had been next to me,
was now next to the young man.

I looked at him.
He looked at me.

I reached over and grabbed the purse back.
And the guy took off.

I saved the day!!

My 7 seconds as a superhero.


I'll never forget that hotel.

Here's one more look at that incredible ceiling.

Have you ever thwarted a crime?
Have you ever been to Mexico City?
Do you know any Spanish?

Como esta usted hoy?

Banned Books Week

Take a banned book to lunch -- it's the American Library Association's Banned Book Week! And yes, it's true -- massively ironic, but true, that Bradbury's beautifully told story of a society that bans and burns all books has itself at one time been banned -- for use of profanity.

It's in good company -- along with Harry Potter, Huck Finn, Joyce's Ulysses, the Bible, Catcher in the Rye, Of Mice and Men, A Wrinkle in Time . . . the list goes on and on. Books are challenged for political, sexual, or religious content. Books are challenged because nervous parents or governments think these books will teach readers witchcraft . . . make them believers . . . or atheists . . . or turn them into homosexuals . . . or liberals . . . or people who think for themselves.

Of course there are some books not appropriate for young children. And parents should be aware of what their children are reading -- should maybe even read it first rather than make an uninformed decision. But things get dicey when one set of parents wants to decide for everyone.

As a lifelong reader, the thought of not being allowed to read something, just because someone else decided I shouldn't, is anathema. And I salute the brave librarians who stand up to those who would attempt to limit others' right to read.

(Yes, one book, and that my own, was harmed in the making of this blog. But it had already suffered major water damage. Still, it was a weird feeling, setting fire to a book.)

AVE ATQUE VALE, PAUL NEWMAN

Paul Newman, legendary actor, race-car driver, and philanthropist, has passed away at the age of 83.

Newman was a rara avis in Hollywood circles, an actor who had a marriage (his second) that lasted half a century. His curriculum vitae was packed with enough accomplishments for two lifetimes.

Born to a Jewish father and a Catholic mother (a practicing Christian Scientist), Newman described himself as Jewish: more of a challenge, he would say. He must have enjoyed challenging himself. How else to explain someone who raced cars competitively into his eighties?

He and wife Joanne Woodward were long-time residents of Westport, Connecticut. Back in the 1988-90 timeframe when the Missus and I lived in Trumbull, we would occasionally shop at Stew Leonard’s in Norwalk. Newman and Woodward were frequently spotted there doing their grocery shopping (Newman was a serious cooking aficionado), but, alas, we never saw them.

He created his line of “Newman’s Own” food products (with friend A. E. Hotchner) and donated the after-tax profits to charity. The total is now somewhere north of $250 million. I always enjoyed reading the labels; they evidenced a sense of humor that was just a little off-kilter.

His epitaph could very well read “Paul Newman: Mensch.”

Alas, those beautiful blue eyes are now closed forever. To the new leader of the “Hole in the Ground Gang,” Godspeed.

THE DARK VISITOR RETURNS

Neighbor...and a cuddly buddy.

Neighbor is back. For Rosh Hashanah, anyway.

We are pleased. Hakuna is not.

A Darn Good Idea

Remy and I were in the car the other morning with Annie,
and Remy was playing with Annie's orange leash.

Little did I know he had big plans regarding that leash...

Remy: I'm going to use this leash to catch a chicken. See, I can put this around its head like this.

ME: What are you going to do with the chicken when you catch it?

Remy: (giggles like a maniac)

Remy: I don't know, sell it.

Me: Really? For how much?

Remy: For a million dollars!

ME: For a chicken? It'd better be a special chicken.

Remy: Well, it'll lay golden eggs that sing.

ME: That IS a special chicken. What are you going to do with that million dollars?

Remy: Buy things.

Me: Yes, but what things?

Remy: I don't know. A car.

Me: But you can't drive yet!

Remy: (more giggling)

Remy: I'll buy the world. From God.

Me: Huh. You think you can get the world for a million dollars? That's a good deal.

At least he thinks big, right?

I'm keeping my eye out for special chickens now...

TITS ON A BOAR DEPARTMENT

I almost did a double-take yesterday when I was in the Stoopid-Market picking up a few goodies.

Everyone is familiar with Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, am I right? The kind that comes in the little blue box? Rock-hard elbow noodles, and a little packet of glow-in-the-dark radioactive Cheezy Powder Substance that makes its own gravy (just add milk!)?

I had never had any contact with that little blue box...until I was a college student eating independently (i.e., not in an eating club or on a meal plan) on a shockingly low budget. Ramen noodles... Mac ’n’ Cheese... these became staples.

Sure, we knew it was crap. But it was filling crap...and it had its own perverse, Processed Food charm.

Yesterday, I saw that Kraft now makes an organic version of their Macaroni and Cheese. Yep: Organic Mac ’n’ Cheese in that stupid blue box. Every bit as fake as the original - but organic.

Just what, exactly, is the fucking point?

Poke

Around here, many older folks use the archaic word 'poke' for bag. This is a paper poke.

And this is a poke bonnet. Note the drawstring at the back above the frill that prevents the dread red neck. The dictionary tells me it's called a poke bonnet because the brim pokes out but I think it's named after the bag-like construction. Years ago, when fair white skin was the token of a fine lady, many a mountain girl did her field work in such a bonnet. Long sleeves and gloves too.

I got to wondering about poke berries -- don't they look like fat little drawstring bags? I can't find a source that agrees with my amateur etymology. Mostly they say 'origin unknown.' One site hazards a guess that the name may have derived from 'puccoon' -- a plant whose roots make a red dye, just as poke berries do. I like my idea better.

Dog poke. No explanation needed.

CAT BOX

When I tell people that the Missus eats out of the catbox every day, they are horrified. But they shouldn’t be.



Behold: the Catbox! AKA the Kitty-Encrusted Lunchbox. Ain’t it cute?

YOU ASKED FOR IT

Rahel, of Elms in the Yard, requests equal time for Hebrew puns.

Puns?

Limericks, sure. But Hebrew puns?

Well, perhaps we can come up with something.

***************

Q: How do you catch a jewfish?

A: You use Beit Yisrael.

***************

Q: Why must the greatness of the Lord be spoken of in a very high-pitched voice?

A: Because, according to the words of the Ashrei (Psalm 145), we learn that v’ezuz norotekha yomeiru, u-g’dulat’kha a-soprano.

***************

Had enough? Good.

You only thought you knew me...

Earlier this week I posted about my new Texas Word Tangle car decal
that I got from Monogram Chick.
I'm totally in love with it and with Monogram Chick's products.





And, when I found out she tagged me on her blog, I decided to participate.
So, here we go.

7 Weird/Random Facts About Me:


1. I read really fast. I think it's because I grew up on a ranch without TV and spent a lot of time reading.

2. I peed in the ruins at Pompeii, (you know, the city completely covered by a volcano eruption in Italy), because we were on a tour and couldn't find a bathroom. That's probably illegal or defacing history or something like that. But, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

3. I was involved in the theater when I was a child. I was an orphan in Annie and Greta, the youngest Von Trapp child in The Sound of Music.

4. I saw my first Shakespeare play in England in a huge park. It was A Midsummer's Night Dream, and it was completely magical.

5. I received my first massage and snow skied for the first time, all in the same week, when my family visited Canyon Ranch in Massachusetts when I was about 14 or so.

6. I saved my mom's purse from a thief in Mexico City when I was around seven years old.

7. In 5th grade I won the school science fair for making fossils, and I was the second fastest runner in the school. That may have been me in my prime. It's been all downhill since then.


and now I'm tagging some new friends:


1. Marlene - Country Girl on Chesapeake Bay

2. Jen - Steenky Bee

3. Jennifer & Sandi - Minnesota and Texas

4. Carrie - Life in the Slow Lane

5. Gingela5 - My Dogumentary

6. Justine - Justine's Froggy Bloggy

7. Scargosun

Sleeping Beauty

My sweet, sleeping beauty, Annie

This is how I want to spend MY weekend.
Annie has the right idea.


Grab a camera and join in the fun. Camera Critters.

SURREAL SAFARI

I went to get my hair(s) cut today...and a goodly number of these pictures (click on “collection” to view) were hanging in the salon.

For some reason, they made me think of this guy.

KNOCKOFF

I read somewhere that now there’s a Mexican knockoff version of the popular prescription sleep aid Ambien, Sanofi Aventis’s brand of zolpidem tartrate.

It’s called Tambien.

How well does it work? Sources say, compared to the original, it’s “the same.”

Daddy-Long-Legs: The Book

After yesterday's post with the picture of the daddy-long-legs, I began thinking of the book -- a favorite from my childhood. There was a copy, published in 1912, among my grandmother's books and I immediately fell in love with Jerusha (soon to become Judy) Abbot, the plucky orphan from the grim John Grier Home for Orphans. I read that original copy (published 1912) to pieces and now have one -- a library discard -- that should last through quite a few more re-reads.




Maybe you know the story -- it's been made into a movie several times. Judy is chosen by an unknown trustee to receive a college scholarship. The book consists of her letters to this unknown benefactor who has required that she write him weekly, addressing the letters to 'Mr. Smith.' The irrepressible Judy soon begins calling him Daddy-Long-Legs and writing him almost daily. The book is epistolary -- aside from a brief introductory chapter, it's totally made up of Judy's letters.

It's a wonderful look at life in a women's college at the turn of the previous century. And Judy, having spent her life in an orphan's home, is an astute observer. Plus there are all her funny little drawings. And a great happy ending.

A few years ago, browsing through a used book store, I found there was a sequel. Oh joy unexpected!

In Dear Enemy -- which is also made up of letters -- Sallie McBride, Judy's best friend from college, takes over the management of the John Grier Home, turning it from grim to up-to-date, humane, and cheerful. And there's a dour Scots physician (the dear enemy to whom Sallie's letters are addressed) for a romantic interest.

It's another fun read and a look at the latest social engineering theories of 1915 (some of which are a little scary today.) But the overall tone is good-hearted and watching Sallie turn a drab institution full of somber orphans into a brightly painted home crowded with noisy, laughing, happy children is a delight.

Three Pictures

Autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale) Its pale frail lavender petals are always a surprise to me when they emerge in the fall. It's related to the plant from which saffron is harvested-- one little stamen at a time. Colchicum grows from a corm, which was, in ancient times, used as a poison when ground into a powder, and administered in wine. According to the Greek naturalist Theophrastus, slaves ate small pieces of the corm when they were angry with their masters to make themselves ill and unable to work.

Might be useful knowledge for Elizabeth some day.



This gaudy fellow was one of several on on my little bay tree. He's a daddy-long-legs or a spider who looks like one. I don't have the entomologist's eye to tell the difference. But, rumor to the contrary, these guys are not poisonous.





And this -- a perfect parfait of a dawn glimpsed through a tree a few mornings ago.