Hello.
Ouch!
Really?
Beautiful.
Where?
Look.
Peace.
Fire!
Stop!
How?
No.
Yes.
Sweet!
Now?
Goodbye.
Sentences? Discuss.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Rudyard Kipling's "Mandalay"
I have been spending time enjoying all of Andrew Sullivan's remembrances of his friend Christopher Hitchens these last couple of days. It's funny how you find something else to be curious about, say, Stephen Fry and his wondrous performance as Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother, in the new Robert Downey, Jr.-Jude Law Sherlock Holmes movie. He was so wonderful and I knew I'd seen him before, but I just couldn't place him, so I came home and looked him up on the internet. He's best friends with Hugh Laurie, and a right Renaissance man. Author, playwright, actor, comedian, director, journalist, and well-known for a debate held in 2009 titled 'Intelligence Squared', where he and Christopher Hitchens paired off together against their opponents Ann Widdecombe and Archbishop John Onaiyekan in a discussion of the Catholic Church. Hichens the renowned atheist and Fry the humanist versus two well-known Catholics. That must have been something to see.
One of today's reminiscences is of Hitchens' love of poetry:
http://andrewsullivan.thedailybeast.com/2011/12/a-poe.html
The key paragraph quoting Hitchens:
Yet very often, late at night, when I am not tired enough for sleep but too tired to carry on with absorbing or apprehending anything "serious" or new, I will walk over to the appropriate shelf and pull out the tried and the true: the ones that never fail me. And then I will always stay up even later than I had intended. And sometimes, in the morning, I really can "do" the whole of "Spain 1937" or "The Road to Mandalay," and can appreciate that writing is not just done by hand.
Mandalay by Rudyard Kipling
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud --
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd --
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay . . .
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and --
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be --
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
I feel so fortunate to have been exposed to this poem. It's bittersweet that it is because of the loss of such an amazing man of letters that I got my chance. Obviously, I know Rudyard Kipling, but there was nothing before what I read today on Andrew Sullivan's blog that would have spurred me to read this. It's wonderful, lovely and sweet and to read it feels like singing a song, and even if you can't sing, or think that you have no voice, you will hear yourself singing when you try this one. I did.
One of today's reminiscences is of Hitchens' love of poetry:
http://andrewsullivan.thedailybeast.com/2011/12/a-poe.html
The key paragraph quoting Hitchens:
Yet very often, late at night, when I am not tired enough for sleep but too tired to carry on with absorbing or apprehending anything "serious" or new, I will walk over to the appropriate shelf and pull out the tried and the true: the ones that never fail me. And then I will always stay up even later than I had intended. And sometimes, in the morning, I really can "do" the whole of "Spain 1937" or "The Road to Mandalay," and can appreciate that writing is not just done by hand.
Mandalay by Rudyard Kipling
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat -- jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o'mud --
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd --
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!"
With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek
We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.
Elephints a-pilin' teak
In the sludgy, squdgy creek,
Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
But that's all shove be'ind me -- long ago an' fur away,
An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;
An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:
"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."
No! you won't 'eed nothin' else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay . . .
I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,
An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;
Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,
An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?
Beefy face an' grubby 'and --
Law! wot do they understand?
I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!
On the road to Mandalay . . .
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be --
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
I feel so fortunate to have been exposed to this poem. It's bittersweet that it is because of the loss of such an amazing man of letters that I got my chance. Obviously, I know Rudyard Kipling, but there was nothing before what I read today on Andrew Sullivan's blog that would have spurred me to read this. It's wonderful, lovely and sweet and to read it feels like singing a song, and even if you can't sing, or think that you have no voice, you will hear yourself singing when you try this one. I did.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Christopher Hitchens, Andrew Sullivan and Friendship
Christopher Hitchens died today. Needless to say, for those of you who know Hitchens' writings - and know me - we did not have the same beliefs on a lot of things. His profoundly proud and passionately defended writings on atheism are what drew me to him. But I have learned more about him in the occasional mention at Andrew Sullivan's The Dish, where I am a devoted reader, and with whom I also have disagreements. That these two men, so different in so many ways, could nurture a friendship of truth and honor and admiration of one another is a beautiful thing. That our world as a whole, and certainly our politics here in the United States could learn so much from what these men forged, would be a wonder should it ever happen. It seems a miserable far away concept right now in this season of presidential campaign posturing.
We make note of a person's worth at their death. I wish we could all be more aware of the greatness of people and their value to each of us individually and to mankind as a whole during their lives. I am as guilty as anyone in doing this, though I feel so lucky to have had Andrew Sullivan guiding us through these last weeks of Christopher Hitchens life. He might not feel that he was doing this at all; his blog is nothing if not an at different times witty, deeply moving, oft times muddled, more times brilliant but always honest stream of consciousness. His sad, soulful postings lately, and especially today, about his friend have been such a wonderful testament to the man who was Christopher Hitchens.
Andrew posted this quote today about friendship:
"In a friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him with your heart when you resist him."
"Your compassion should be a guess--to know first whether your friend wants compassion. Perhaps what he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glance of eternity. Compassion for the friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sweetness,"
I think this is so true. I think that if you cannot be honest and disagreeable with your friends, then you really do not understand what friendship means. Witnessing a beautiful friendship is an amazing thing. Having one is something nearly impossible to put into words, though I suspect Nietzsche and Sullivan have come right close to expressing it nearly perfectly in days past and today.
And go here to read an obituary. Fascinating to the end.
We make note of a person's worth at their death. I wish we could all be more aware of the greatness of people and their value to each of us individually and to mankind as a whole during their lives. I am as guilty as anyone in doing this, though I feel so lucky to have had Andrew Sullivan guiding us through these last weeks of Christopher Hitchens life. He might not feel that he was doing this at all; his blog is nothing if not an at different times witty, deeply moving, oft times muddled, more times brilliant but always honest stream of consciousness. His sad, soulful postings lately, and especially today, about his friend have been such a wonderful testament to the man who was Christopher Hitchens.
Andrew posted this quote today about friendship:
"In a friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him with your heart when you resist him."
"Your compassion should be a guess--to know first whether your friend wants compassion. Perhaps what he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glance of eternity. Compassion for the friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sweetness,"
-Friedrich Nietzsche.
I think this is so true. I think that if you cannot be honest and disagreeable with your friends, then you really do not understand what friendship means. Witnessing a beautiful friendship is an amazing thing. Having one is something nearly impossible to put into words, though I suspect Nietzsche and Sullivan have come right close to expressing it nearly perfectly in days past and today.
Rest in peace, Christopher Hitchens.
And go here to read an obituary. Fascinating to the end.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Merry Christmas
SEASON'S GREETINGS!
I love the Christmas season. I love the decorations and the music and the philosophy of peace and good will to all. I am not religious, but I even like the 'reason for the season' stuff. I think that if people find comfort in their religion, that's perfectly fine with me ... so long as they don't scream it in my face!
As you all mostly know, my decorations for Christmas are decidedly themed. Here are a few photos from years past of what I mean:
Yes, that is an artificial tree. I like my Christmas season to last as long as possible, so I am okay with a fake tree. Up close it is obviously not real, but you really need to get up close to it to know that. It's a great looking tree and I have had it for years. And yes, all of the ornaments are dog-related. Hundreds of them. Oh, yes!
And it's not just on the tree that we have this theme. There are Christmas stuffed dogs, five small trees, two to three feet high, also adorned with doggie ornaments, a series of great pewter dog ornaments that hang from the bookcases, dog snow globes, etc., etc. And of course ... the caroling dogs:
Aren't they cute? I have over 30 of them. So adorable.
But my cutest decorations of all? My real dogs. My guys are always decked out for the holidays. This year it is a western-style scarf with pointsettias, festive red and green on a black background, and they really are darling:
Whatever your holiday, enjoy this season, and have a Happy 2012!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Tom Wicker 1926-2011
I was only eleven years old during the time of the Attica prison riot in 1971. As an 11 year old, I was far more interested in Bobby Darin's singing and the TV series "Alias Smith and Jones" than I was in current events. But the events in Attica, New York somehow made it into my consciousness. The four days that constituted the duration of the uprising, including the negotiations of a team that included Tom Wicker, William Kunstler and Louis Farrakhan, were never anything more than a blip on my radar at that time. But Tom Wicker was not. I found in him a writer that as a young girl I was hard-pressed not to admire. Whenever possible I would try to find his stories or columns; this often meant getting my hands on a copy of the New York Times, which meant reading it in the library.
Anyway, Mr. Wicker retired from the newspaper business in 1991. He wrote many books, though I have to admit to only having read "A Time to Die". In reading his obituary, I realize that I missed out on a lot with regards to Tom Wicker. It seems his coverage of the assassination of John F. Kennedy was really quite something. You can read more about him at the obituary in The New York Times, the newspaper that was his home for so many years:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/26/us/tom-wicker-journalist-and-author-dies-at-85.html?_r=1
Tom Wicker was a great writer and a good man. He lived a good, long life. And he will be missed.
Anyway, Mr. Wicker retired from the newspaper business in 1991. He wrote many books, though I have to admit to only having read "A Time to Die". In reading his obituary, I realize that I missed out on a lot with regards to Tom Wicker. It seems his coverage of the assassination of John F. Kennedy was really quite something. You can read more about him at the obituary in The New York Times, the newspaper that was his home for so many years:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/26/us/tom-wicker-journalist-and-author-dies-at-85.html?_r=1
Tom Wicker was a great writer and a good man. He lived a good, long life. And he will be missed.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Sweet Cheeks
So, Fred was ridiculously adorable today. Of course, he was adorable in the way that it was impossible to leave him to go fetch the camera. He isn't normally in your face about getting attention. Not like Homer! Okay, that might not be true, it's just that Fred is more subtle about it. Today we had two moments where I just melted in his cuteness.
First, he took a "frogger" turn on the sofa. Lately, we have had a fair number of doggie pillows and doggie fleece on the sofa. I tend to keep the house just warm enough, which is better for the environment and my pocketbook! Fred, Homer and Atticus have all learned to love their fleece. But they can, on occasion, be rambunctious boys, and their rough-housing around the house can cause the pillows and fleece to fall to the floor. This gave Fred the chance to do a full-on stretch: he stretched so that his back legs were flat on the cushion, stretched out behind him, like a frog. And he was really stretched out, almost enough to reach from arm to arm on a substantial sofa. If the sofa wasn't there he would have looked like he was flying (which he has done before):
So, I had to decide, should I go over there and kiss those little butt cheeks or fetch the camera? The cheeks won, hands down.
Later, as the pre-dinner (for dogs, around 3:30pm) walk approached, Fred came over and looked at me and started "dancing". This is when he just gets all excited, usually about going O-U-T-S-I-D-E. If, when he's doing this, you lightly rub his back, near his tail, he will "dance" even faster, tapping his paws on the floor. It's so cute. But this time, I encouraged him to jump up on my lap (hey, there were no other dogs around!) and once he was up, he was right in my face. Fred, as many of you know, has mesmerizing eyes. And he was SO happy, getting all of the attention. He petted my face and head several times. And then he started rolling around in my arms. He likes to be face-to-face, but he's also a bit of a hedonist and knows that when he rolls over he's going to get petting all-over his body. Fred likes to be touched everywhere. Everywhere, I say. He would have layed on his back like that, his head up against the crook of my neck, his neck in the middle of my chest, his butt on my stomach, getting a rub-down, for hours ... except it was so close to mealtime!
This is not a recent shot of Fred, just a favorite one. Just me and my boy on vacation at Manitou Cliff Dwellings near Colorado Springs, CO. Oh, and this was cute: we approached the entrance to the cliff dwelling, which is like a cave, and Fred did not want to go in. It did look dark, I'll admit. But once I shoved his butt into the entryway, he loved, loved, loved exploring in there. It's nice that they allow dogs there. I'm sure, when I finally get to Mesa Verde, that I will have to keep the dogs in the car. Harumph!
First, he took a "frogger" turn on the sofa. Lately, we have had a fair number of doggie pillows and doggie fleece on the sofa. I tend to keep the house just warm enough, which is better for the environment and my pocketbook! Fred, Homer and Atticus have all learned to love their fleece. But they can, on occasion, be rambunctious boys, and their rough-housing around the house can cause the pillows and fleece to fall to the floor. This gave Fred the chance to do a full-on stretch: he stretched so that his back legs were flat on the cushion, stretched out behind him, like a frog. And he was really stretched out, almost enough to reach from arm to arm on a substantial sofa. If the sofa wasn't there he would have looked like he was flying (which he has done before):
So, I had to decide, should I go over there and kiss those little butt cheeks or fetch the camera? The cheeks won, hands down.
Later, as the pre-dinner (for dogs, around 3:30pm) walk approached, Fred came over and looked at me and started "dancing". This is when he just gets all excited, usually about going O-U-T-S-I-D-E. If, when he's doing this, you lightly rub his back, near his tail, he will "dance" even faster, tapping his paws on the floor. It's so cute. But this time, I encouraged him to jump up on my lap (hey, there were no other dogs around!) and once he was up, he was right in my face. Fred, as many of you know, has mesmerizing eyes. And he was SO happy, getting all of the attention. He petted my face and head several times. And then he started rolling around in my arms. He likes to be face-to-face, but he's also a bit of a hedonist and knows that when he rolls over he's going to get petting all-over his body. Fred likes to be touched everywhere. Everywhere, I say. He would have layed on his back like that, his head up against the crook of my neck, his neck in the middle of my chest, his butt on my stomach, getting a rub-down, for hours ... except it was so close to mealtime!
This is not a recent shot of Fred, just a favorite one. Just me and my boy on vacation at Manitou Cliff Dwellings near Colorado Springs, CO. Oh, and this was cute: we approached the entrance to the cliff dwelling, which is like a cave, and Fred did not want to go in. It did look dark, I'll admit. But once I shoved his butt into the entryway, he loved, loved, loved exploring in there. It's nice that they allow dogs there. I'm sure, when I finally get to Mesa Verde, that I will have to keep the dogs in the car. Harumph!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
White Bean Chicken (or Turkey) Chili
Yum.
I believe this is now my third pot of white bean chicken (or turkey) chili this fall/winter season. I love herbs and spices and different ones are favorites throughout the year. I love fresh basil in the summer, and eat caprese salads throughout the season, with tomatoes from the grocery store and then the farmers markets early in the summer and from my own garden later. I adore thyme and rosemary. I have some of Ina Garten's incredible Mustard Chicken Salad in the fridge right now, made with French tarragon from my garden; it's absolutely incredible. I will prepare a garlic, olive oil and mixed herb rub for meats when all the herbs are in season in the garden. A favorite side? Cannellini beans with fresh sage and really good olive oil. But right now I have a thing for a spice from my pantry: cumin. Cumin screams Mexican food, and I do love good Mexican, or Tex-Mex (I did live in Texas for a year). This chili is so easy to do and so delicious. And it's quite different from your typical chili: it has spinach (or swiss chard, if you can get it) and corn, and the recommended cheese to finish it with is parmigiano, which is unusual for chili. I like parmigiano, cheddar or even a mild cheese like monterey jack works. But it only needs a little - the chili tastes great all by itself; all you need is a bowl and a spoon. And maybe a nice glass of wine ... I like a dry riesling or rose, but I think it can stand up to a good but not overly bold red. But truly, it is the cumin that makes this so special. And I have been using cumin lately a lot when I make tacos (corn tortillas only - please! - which in our white-bread area of upstate NY are hard to find): fish tacos, shrimp tacos, chicken tacos, all well-seasoned with cumin and chili powder. Burritos, too. Yes, I believe my taste for the spicy will fit right in in New Mexico.
The recipe I use for this delicious chili (no, I did not come up with this all by myself ... I like to cook, but I am not Ina Garten or Giada DiLaurentiis!) is one from Giada, and you can find it here on the Food Network website:
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/white-bean-and-chicken-chili-recipe/index.html
Enjoy. I know I will!
I believe this is now my third pot of white bean chicken (or turkey) chili this fall/winter season. I love herbs and spices and different ones are favorites throughout the year. I love fresh basil in the summer, and eat caprese salads throughout the season, with tomatoes from the grocery store and then the farmers markets early in the summer and from my own garden later. I adore thyme and rosemary. I have some of Ina Garten's incredible Mustard Chicken Salad in the fridge right now, made with French tarragon from my garden; it's absolutely incredible. I will prepare a garlic, olive oil and mixed herb rub for meats when all the herbs are in season in the garden. A favorite side? Cannellini beans with fresh sage and really good olive oil. But right now I have a thing for a spice from my pantry: cumin. Cumin screams Mexican food, and I do love good Mexican, or Tex-Mex (I did live in Texas for a year). This chili is so easy to do and so delicious. And it's quite different from your typical chili: it has spinach (or swiss chard, if you can get it) and corn, and the recommended cheese to finish it with is parmigiano, which is unusual for chili. I like parmigiano, cheddar or even a mild cheese like monterey jack works. But it only needs a little - the chili tastes great all by itself; all you need is a bowl and a spoon. And maybe a nice glass of wine ... I like a dry riesling or rose, but I think it can stand up to a good but not overly bold red. But truly, it is the cumin that makes this so special. And I have been using cumin lately a lot when I make tacos (corn tortillas only - please! - which in our white-bread area of upstate NY are hard to find): fish tacos, shrimp tacos, chicken tacos, all well-seasoned with cumin and chili powder. Burritos, too. Yes, I believe my taste for the spicy will fit right in in New Mexico.
The recipe I use for this delicious chili (no, I did not come up with this all by myself ... I like to cook, but I am not Ina Garten or Giada DiLaurentiis!) is one from Giada, and you can find it here on the Food Network website:
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/white-bean-and-chicken-chili-recipe/index.html
Enjoy. I know I will!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Buddy and Pedro
Well, I can see why they would need to separate them, if they are trying to avoid the extinction of the species. And the separation is only temporary. But, based on how my guys react when they are separated - and even more telling, when they are together - I can totally imagine separation anxiety could prevent a successful coupling.http://www.thestar.com/news/article/1085094--same-sex-penguins-must-separate-soon?bn=1
This morning, Homer came out of the bedroom, walked over to me, did a big stretch and yawn in greeting, and then trotted happily over to Atticus, who was still in his doggie bed on the chair. Homer reached his long neck up, Atticus bent down, and they snuffled each others' noses for the longest time. It was freaking adorable.
According to the stories that I have read, these two penguins are inseparable and have completely ignored the two female penguins that have been following them around. I wish them good luck, as I would hate to see this species fall into extinction, but I can imagine things not turning out as the zoo authorities hope.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Wind Chimes
I have always been fond of wind chimes. I've purchased only quality ones for years now. I cannot tolerate the sound of a cheap set, that lame 'tinkle' sound. Ugh. Or those wooden ones that have more of a 'clunky' sound. I have a lovely wind chime made by a friend given to me by another friend, made of pieces of colored glass hanging from a piece of driftwood. It's beautiful and has a lovely sound when the glass clinks together. It's reminiscent of the sound of champagne glasses chiming after a toast, especially when there are different levels of champers in each glass.
I have a set of wind chimes I purchased years ago during a visit to Charleston, SC for Spoleto Festival. As those of you who know me well are fully aware, I love Charleston and I love Spoleto Festival. And we never visit this charming and sophisticated southern city without hitting the shops at the market. One of these shops had a huge, make that, HUGE wind chime for sale. The sound it made was incredible. And I just had to have it. Luckily, the shop agreed to ship it to my home.
It really does sound like beautiful church bells. Pretty ones, with a great sustained sound. They are hung out on the front porch, right outside the living room. These last days we have had some pretty stiff breezes; the weather forecast says that the winds are 10-20 miles per hour. Needless to say, we have had beautiful music going all weekend, and expect these gorgeous sounds to continue for another couple of days as these breezes of up to 20 mph are forecast to continue at least that long.
The sound is mesmerizing, relaxing. Just lovely.
I have a set of wind chimes I purchased years ago during a visit to Charleston, SC for Spoleto Festival. As those of you who know me well are fully aware, I love Charleston and I love Spoleto Festival. And we never visit this charming and sophisticated southern city without hitting the shops at the market. One of these shops had a huge, make that, HUGE wind chime for sale. The sound it made was incredible. And I just had to have it. Luckily, the shop agreed to ship it to my home.
It really does sound like beautiful church bells. Pretty ones, with a great sustained sound. They are hung out on the front porch, right outside the living room. These last days we have had some pretty stiff breezes; the weather forecast says that the winds are 10-20 miles per hour. Needless to say, we have had beautiful music going all weekend, and expect these gorgeous sounds to continue for another couple of days as these breezes of up to 20 mph are forecast to continue at least that long.
The sound is mesmerizing, relaxing. Just lovely.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Grammar Discussion #1 - Anyway versus Anyways
Anyways is wrong. Don't use it.
Why, you ask, if it's wrong do so many people use it? I wish I knew. Actually, I believe I do know, but let's discuss first why it is wrong.
The word anyway is an adverb. It's meaning? Regardless or in any event, even anyhow (notice no use of the 's' in anyhow). In Merriam-Webster online, the definition is as follows:
1 : ANYWISE (Do any of you use anywise? Oy.)
2 : in any case : ANYHOW
A few appropriate uses of the word:
a. Anyway, though I may sound like a typical mommy, my dogs are the sweetest on the planet.
b. That girl can't hold a tune, but they allowed her to make that woeful vocal attempt anyway.
c. That candidate is clearly a pig, a mysogynist, but he's going to remain on the campaign trail anyway.
- or, as in one of my all-time favorite television shows -
d. Whose Line Is It Anyway?
Since the word is an adverb, adding an 's' makes it plural, which is simply not done with adverbs. That might be the best way to remember that you should not say or write 'anyways'. My favorite comment on the usage of anyways is found at this website:
http://grammartips.homestead.com/
It's "Grammar Tips and Usage for the Non-expert" by Tina Blue, who has a PhD in English and lots of experience teaching English writing, grammar and related subjects. To make it easier for you , though I do recommend her website for some humorous discussions on grammar and usage, here is what Tina says:
"This is going to be short and simple. Do not say or write 'anyways' - not ever. The word is 'anyway'. The word 'anyways' is found in some dialects in the United States, but it is not standard English, and it should never be used in any situation where you want to be considered reasonably well educated. That's all there is to it."
Another favorite comment about the use of 'anyways' can be found at www.dailywritingtips.com where the blogger calls 'anyways' a "colloquial corruption of anyway." I have to agree. Therefore, as a colloquial corruption or dialect, the ONLY appropriate time to use it would be when you are writing or speaking dialogue, primarily to emphasize the character's lack of finesse with the language. That's it.
Now, as to why so many people use 'anyways' rather than the correct 'anyway'? I believe much of this is laziness, I really do. However, I will concede that a person who uses the word incorrectly may have heard this used by a parent, though I find it hard to believe that at some point in all the years of schooling that people did not learn the correct usage. Yes, perfectly well-educated people use this word incorrectly. It drives me batty.
As a lesson, let's think about words like anyhow or everywhere. Would you add an 's' to use these words properly? No, you would not. "I know Kevin Spacey was a little too old to play Bobby Darin, but I loved his performance in the movie 'Beyond the Sea' anyhows." You see? It doesn't work. Or "I love Washington, DC ... we walked everywheres." Sounds wrong, right? Well, when someone uses 'anyways', it's like nails on a chalkboard to me. I love my language and it really, really bothers me when people use it incorrectly.
I have attempted this discussion with people in the past; we even had this discussion over the weekend, which is why there is a new blog post about it today. The excuse of a 'living language' and change being inevitable was brought up. I do not deny that the language is alive, and that is good. It's how we add words like 'blog' or get new definitions for words that have been around forever. But 'anyways' was never correct, and never should be.
Of course, the fact that it is used far too often by a top radio personality on National Public Radio or came out of the mouth so many times of the Canadian physicist on a popular sci-fi show who claimed to be the "smartest person in two galaxies" doesn't help me in my argument. Very annoying, that. The fact of its more regular use does not negate the fact that it is incorrect.
Why, you ask, if it's wrong do so many people use it? I wish I knew. Actually, I believe I do know, but let's discuss first why it is wrong.
The word anyway is an adverb. It's meaning? Regardless or in any event, even anyhow (notice no use of the 's' in anyhow). In Merriam-Webster online, the definition is as follows:
1 : ANYWISE (Do any of you use anywise? Oy.)
2 : in any case : ANYHOW
A few appropriate uses of the word:
a. Anyway, though I may sound like a typical mommy, my dogs are the sweetest on the planet.
b. That girl can't hold a tune, but they allowed her to make that woeful vocal attempt anyway.
c. That candidate is clearly a pig, a mysogynist, but he's going to remain on the campaign trail anyway.
- or, as in one of my all-time favorite television shows -
d. Whose Line Is It Anyway?
Since the word is an adverb, adding an 's' makes it plural, which is simply not done with adverbs. That might be the best way to remember that you should not say or write 'anyways'. My favorite comment on the usage of anyways is found at this website:
http://grammartips.homestead.com/
It's "Grammar Tips and Usage for the Non-expert" by Tina Blue, who has a PhD in English and lots of experience teaching English writing, grammar and related subjects. To make it easier for you , though I do recommend her website for some humorous discussions on grammar and usage, here is what Tina says:
"This is going to be short and simple. Do not say or write 'anyways' - not ever. The word is 'anyway'. The word 'anyways' is found in some dialects in the United States, but it is not standard English, and it should never be used in any situation where you want to be considered reasonably well educated. That's all there is to it."
Another favorite comment about the use of 'anyways' can be found at www.dailywritingtips.com where the blogger calls 'anyways' a "colloquial corruption of anyway." I have to agree. Therefore, as a colloquial corruption or dialect, the ONLY appropriate time to use it would be when you are writing or speaking dialogue, primarily to emphasize the character's lack of finesse with the language. That's it.
Now, as to why so many people use 'anyways' rather than the correct 'anyway'? I believe much of this is laziness, I really do. However, I will concede that a person who uses the word incorrectly may have heard this used by a parent, though I find it hard to believe that at some point in all the years of schooling that people did not learn the correct usage. Yes, perfectly well-educated people use this word incorrectly. It drives me batty.
As a lesson, let's think about words like anyhow or everywhere. Would you add an 's' to use these words properly? No, you would not. "I know Kevin Spacey was a little too old to play Bobby Darin, but I loved his performance in the movie 'Beyond the Sea' anyhows." You see? It doesn't work. Or "I love Washington, DC ... we walked everywheres." Sounds wrong, right? Well, when someone uses 'anyways', it's like nails on a chalkboard to me. I love my language and it really, really bothers me when people use it incorrectly.
I have attempted this discussion with people in the past; we even had this discussion over the weekend, which is why there is a new blog post about it today. The excuse of a 'living language' and change being inevitable was brought up. I do not deny that the language is alive, and that is good. It's how we add words like 'blog' or get new definitions for words that have been around forever. But 'anyways' was never correct, and never should be.
Of course, the fact that it is used far too often by a top radio personality on National Public Radio or came out of the mouth so many times of the Canadian physicist on a popular sci-fi show who claimed to be the "smartest person in two galaxies" doesn't help me in my argument. Very annoying, that. The fact of its more regular use does not negate the fact that it is incorrect.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Pictures don't lie
It was a generally crappy summer (and autumn, so far), weather-wise, and health-wise for that matter, yet I still managed to capture some really lovely photos that seem intent on discounting my opinion on the former. Enjoy.
Approaching sunset in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, Fourth of July weekend:
Fred induling in a snack on the trail at Acadia National Park in Maine over the Fourth of July weekend:
By later in July, the new guy was learning to make himself at home. Atticus, who I nearly hit with my car in May, now comfortably ensconced in the canine crew in Willsboro:
Homer found a warm spot on a cool day early in the growing season:
Jewels for the garden. Thank you, Pat!
Ridiculously cute. On the bench are Choli and Mike, Deb and Darryl's dogs. On the ground, Fred, Atticus and Homer, in the garden:
Despite the wet summer, the tomato plants did pretty well:
A bee on one of many beautiful zinnias at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt historic site in Hyde Park, NY:
You've noticed some sunshine in these pictures, but usually with the sun - and all that wet - came mosquitos. The boys had to soak up the sun where they could:
The old homestead is right pretty in the summer. My yard is amazingly park-like:
In vino veritas. Fred got so sick of the mosquitos that he took to surfing the net and, ultimately, acquiring a taste for a good dry riesling:
These fellas sure know how to put a smile on mommy's face, despite all that crap weather:
Approaching sunset in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, Fourth of July weekend:
Fred induling in a snack on the trail at Acadia National Park in Maine over the Fourth of July weekend:
By later in July, the new guy was learning to make himself at home. Atticus, who I nearly hit with my car in May, now comfortably ensconced in the canine crew in Willsboro:
Homer found a warm spot on a cool day early in the growing season:
Jewels for the garden. Thank you, Pat!
Ridiculously cute. On the bench are Choli and Mike, Deb and Darryl's dogs. On the ground, Fred, Atticus and Homer, in the garden:
Despite the wet summer, the tomato plants did pretty well:
A bee on one of many beautiful zinnias at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt historic site in Hyde Park, NY:
You've noticed some sunshine in these pictures, but usually with the sun - and all that wet - came mosquitos. The boys had to soak up the sun where they could:
The old homestead is right pretty in the summer. My yard is amazingly park-like:
In vino veritas. Fred got so sick of the mosquitos that he took to surfing the net and, ultimately, acquiring a taste for a good dry riesling:
These fellas sure know how to put a smile on mommy's face, despite all that crap weather:
Friday, September 23, 2011
Just a Quick Update
Survived hurricane Irene. Whew. And I have a new dog. And I hope to be posting again sometime soon. The new guy is Atticus. So, from left to right above, Homer, Fred and Atticus. AKA Homer Schomer, Freddie Schmeddie and Atticus Schmatticus (their Yiddish names). Also, Homeropteryx, Fredosaurus and Atticus Rex (their dinosaur names). And Makes Happy Noise, Soars With the Wind and Sly Fox (their Native American names). Otherwise known as the most well-loved Beagle mixes in the North Country!
Friday, May 6, 2011
Lake Champlain Flooding
I realize that it's not of the same magnitude, the flooding that we're having up here along Lake Champlain or the many rivers in the Adirondacks. That is, it's not of the same magnitude...unless it's your house that is completely surrounded by water. I took a ride around Willsboro Point and Essex today. The small coves and bays of Lake Champlain that surround the peninsula of "The Point" have heaved up onto waterfront property and completely consumed some homes. Many of these houses used to be vacation homes, but many of them now are peoples' first and only homes. And yes, Willsboro Point does have some expensive homes, with pools and tennis courts and, of course, most of those homes have been spared damage as they sit high above their cove or bay. But a lot of these houses are just houses, like mine, only far too close to the lake, at least they were this year. Lake Champlain is at historic high levels, drowning houses on both the New York and Vermont sides. The lake is supposed to grow even higher tomorrow. But we have a forecast of some relief from the rains coming up, and most of the melt is complete. I hope this is so, because even for those of us who aren't in danger from the high levels of the beautiful rivers and lakes up here in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, we have had enough of the rain and the wet. Today was a lovely, sunny day...for most of the day.
Here are some shots of the damage along the lake.
This horse seems completely oblivious to the drama going on a few hundred yards away.
A house, er, estate that is seemingly untouched by the lake nipping at its feet, though if there's a basement, boat races could be underway down there...it's something to do, inside, out of the rain.
My "Ghost House". It makes me want to cry every time I pass this house and watch it fall further into ruin. Sigh.
The Essex Ferry, just a 7 minute drive from my house, had only recently re-opened after a late winter closure due to ice on the lake. As you can see, there is no getting to the ramp that would lead you onto a ferry.
At least Mister Robin seems happy with all this wet.
Here are some shots of the damage along the lake.
This horse seems completely oblivious to the drama going on a few hundred yards away.
A house, er, estate that is seemingly untouched by the lake nipping at its feet, though if there's a basement, boat races could be underway down there...it's something to do, inside, out of the rain.
My "Ghost House". It makes me want to cry every time I pass this house and watch it fall further into ruin. Sigh.
The Essex Ferry, just a 7 minute drive from my house, had only recently re-opened after a late winter closure due to ice on the lake. As you can see, there is no getting to the ramp that would lead you onto a ferry.
At least Mister Robin seems happy with all this wet.
I Like My Blog
I just haven't had a lot of time for it lately. I want that to change. Facebook is partly to blame. I can quickly go there, dump a short paragraph on what I think of something, attach a link or photo, and it's done. Somehow, I feel the blog deserves more time and thought. And I just don't have enough time for thoughtfulness. I am working far more than I had planned, but I am hopeful that this has changed and I will be back to having time for contemplation and time for writing, which I miss desperately. Of course, the gardening season is upon us, and being in the garden has many benefits, including that essential contemplation time.
And I have a new camera, so you will be seeing more photos here, like this:
My goodness these boys are scrumptious.
And I have a new camera, so you will be seeing more photos here, like this:
My goodness these boys are scrumptious.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Goodbye, Sweet Miller
It was the day that I hoped would never come. The realist in me knew that I would have to say goodbye to Miller one day; dogs cannot live forever. But for a while there, it seemed that Miller was intent on trying. He lived to be 17 3/4 years old, quite ancient for a dog.
Miller was a beautiful dog. I guess one of the reasons it seemed so hard to finally make the call to let him go was that he looked so damned good to the very end. He just had a light about him, from the minute I saw him at the shelter that very first time. Other dogs that I've adopted were often on a second or third look. I didn't even really realize that I'd seen Fred on the first walk-through at the shelter, he was so quiet, so meek. Miller stood out from the get-go.
I think it was those eyes.
Okay, maybe that's not the best shot of those eyes!
Miller's lived a pretty pampered life, as all Vanneman dogs tend to do. He loved being groomed, though he was never a fan of having his nails done. He slept on the bed, until he was unable to make it up, and then he had the very best dog beds at his disposal. My sisters and I laugh at how soft our dogs' elbows are; these are animals that have never had to lay on hard surfaces! One of Boo's nicknames, as it was, was "Pasha" Boo.
Miller and Boo were best buds. A lovely pair of dogs. And they, like all of my guys, had traveled a fair amount. Since Miller had been with me for so long, he got to travel the most. He has been lucky enough to stay in some of the nicest bed and breakfasts in the Catskills, the Adirondacks, Charlottesville, Virginia, Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, the eastern shore of Maryland. There were surely others. And he and his brothers enjoyed several visits to Moosehead Lake in the far north of Maine. Such a lucky boy.
That's Bailey laying there with his head on Fred's shoulder. Miller was very patient with Bailey. We all, dogs and people alike, learned to be patient with Bailey. But Miller being Miller seemed the most able to manage it...even an unfortunate diarrhea incident on a drive up here to look at houses didn't really phase Miller much. Didn't make me very happy...
That wasn't the first time Miller had something inadvertently slopped all over his lovely coat. One time, at the Fire and Ice Festival in Mount Holly, NJ, Miller and I, along with Deb's little Menolly, I think, were waiting outside for our "fire" part of the festival: a chili contest (the ice part was an ice sculpting contest). Deb and Dana crossed the street with some chili for me (dogs were not allowed in the fire hall where the chili contest was taking place). As they handed the cup of chili over to me, Miller jumped up to get some for himself. His nose hit the cup, which flew out of my hand, flying way above our heads. As you can imagine, this entire event seemed to be happening in slow motion, but not quite slow enough for any of us to stop the inevitable: the chili landed smack dab on Miller's back. Oy. Again...it's funny in hindsight only!
Miller was so welcoming to all of the dogs who came and went from my household during his long lifetime. Such a sweet boy. And the other dogs just loved Miller.
And even in his older years he was more than willing to welcome a young punk into the family. Homer adored Miller...he would often just walk over to Miller as he lazed in his bed and plop down on the floor right next him, happy to just spend time with his older brother, though, on his first day here, he was happy to take Miller's bed. And true to Miller's gentle nature, he let him, and took the smaller bed right nearby.
The fact is that I could go on for pages about Miller. He was a special boy. Though all of my dogs are nice, Miller (once he was out of his terrible twos! Boy did I lose a lot of wood at that Oak Road house!) was just the most perfect combination of sweet and kind. We called him The Empath, and he really was able to read our minds...he always knew when I needed a little extra lovin'.
Miller, like all well-loved dogs, earned many a nickname in our family. The Golden Bear, Blondie, Blond Bombshell, his Native American Indian name, Walks in Sunlight, his dinosaur name, Tri-Miller-Tops. To me, he will always be my golden boy.
Goodbye, Sweet Miller.
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