Random

Follow the Links

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I’ve shared a link or two in the past to Hooked, a wonderfully interesting blog by an equally interesting woman about her experience as an Alaskan fisherman.  She was recently interviewed for a piece on Oregon Public Broadcasting about the intersection between her writing and fishing lives.  She’s shared the link from her own blog, but I wanted to share it here, too.  This is what writing is about for me.  Finding the voice Tele describes in her interview, and finding other writers like Tele who inspire me to keep refining that voice for myself.

When I stumbled on this post while tag-surfing in the infinitely broad category of ‘Writing,’ I had to read it for a few reasons, all of which are in the title, “My Big Fat Lesbian Life – Demi Moore and Orange Leisure Suits.”  Check it out.  I’m glad I did.

This post made me smile.  It’s a simple reminder that we too often over-classify or underestimate people.  We’re all guilty, and maybe that’s why it feels so good when we recognize and stop ourselves from doing so.

Here’s a humorous look at approaching the big ‘4-0,’ which I am getting ever closer to reaching myself.  When you’re done with that, though, keep going for ‘Gasoline For Valentine’s Day.’

Charlie Hale is a writer I love to read.  This post on family stories is a good example of why I’m constantly drawn back to his blog.  I, too, am a bit of a genealogy nut, but Charlie is a masterful storyteller and he seems to effortlessly stamp everything he writes with a sense of importance.

The history of the fortune cookie

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Every now and then, I eat at a so-so Chinese restaurant with a friend, because it’s situated next door to my favorite dive karaoke bar in the strip mall near my home (I know – awesome all around, right?).  It’s always a good idea for me to fill up on fried rice before I head in for an evening of cheap, but strong drinks, or else I will end up singing, which amuses no one.  Of course, each meal ends with a fortune cookie, which some, but perhaps not all, people know is not actually Chinese in origin at all.  There is something of a debate on the true origins of the cookie.  Claims have been made that it originated in San Francisco and in Los Angeles and was based on a Japanese dessert.  No one is really positive, but there is no question it did not come from China.

Now, I’ve seen some ridiculous fortunes come out of those mildly sweet and crunchy (assuming they’re not stale) little delights, but the one I got most recently tops them all.  See picture.  Yes, it really said ‘Made in USA.’  I haven’t yet figured out if that is some cosmic commentary on the state of US economic affairs and the explosion of the China into the world market, or if it was some sly person’s attempt at clarifying for us dumb Americans that we did actually invent the fortune cookie.

Regardless, I like the image of some mischievous wit somewhere  whose job it is to type in a gazillion different ‘fortunes’ into a computer.  Can you imagine how much fun you could have, slipping in nonsense or completely inappropriate phrases, just to see how long you could get away with it before someone noticed?

* Online fortune cookie generator courtesy of Jim Blackler.  Try it here.

Bucket Lists

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Mont. man starts police chase as part of wishlist (AP). As asinine as this sounds, I have to give this guy some credit.  How many ridiculous things might be on our bucket lists if we allowed ourselves to include the crazy stuff?  And even if you listed them, would you have the guts this guy did?  The audacity of this story has blocked my mind from coming up with anything close for my own list.  I’m thinking on it, though…

 

Follow the links

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I recently started following this blog because a post appeared on Freshly Pressed and I thought it was really funny.  I read some more, and this one had me trying to unsuccessfully squelch my laughter at 1 am so I wouldn’t wake anyone else up.  Why is it that when you try not to laugh, it just gets worse?

This post is so thought-provoking, everyone should read it.  It’s about not speaking up, something we’re all guilty of at one time or another, but something we should all work harder to avoid.

If you read my recent post about spam vegetable strudel, you’ll know why I chose this one…

I think I’ve found a new favorite tag to search blogs for. It’s “Stupid.”  You should try it yourself, but first, check out this post about possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of a politician trying to do…

Spam vegetable strudel

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Have you ever had one of those ideas that seemed completely brilliant until you said it out loud?  I had one of those today.  It was a thought for an essay, but when I tried to describe it to my partner, it just sounded sort of dumb.  Reflecting on it, the idea isn’t actually dumb – it’s the fact that I can’t articulate it in the brilliant way my brain first conceived of it that’s dumb.  It was a flash thought (though there’s got to be a better phrase for this concept) – a thought that must be made up of more emotion than thought, because at the moment it makes great sense, has tons of promise, and is something I can most certainly write and immediately have accepted for publication in a highly acclaimed literary journal, if I can only find the time to sit down and get it on paper.  Now that I’m sitting down, though, I can’t capture that perfect thought, and I think it’s because the words around the idea never solidified.  They zapped themselves in and out of my brain the way a person’s name does when I’m first introduced to them.  I forget names before I even finish hearing them.

Anyway, I guess there’s not much harm in having a smart thought turn dumb on you.  As long as it’s a thought, anyway.  Say it out loud, put it on paper, inadvertently send something moronic in an email to your coworkers – that could be more harmful, but in my case, it’s just a writing idea I need to kick around a little longer to see if it develops.  If it does, great – if not, no big deal.  Spam vegetable strudel, on the other hand, seems like it is probably a true monstrosity.  As a Google fan, I use GMail, and it doesn’t bother me at all that they target ads to me based on the content in my emails.  The ads are so unobtrusive, I rarely even notice them on the screen.  A few days ago, though, this line virtually leapt off the page at me.

Spam Vegetable Strudel – Bake 20 minutes or until golden, serve with soy sauce.

I couldn’t comprehend first why this ad would appear above my inbox, but more importantly, why anyone in their right mind would not only put those three words together, but actually create a recipe, then pay to advertise something so preposterous.  I believe I have solved the mystery of why it appeared in my personalized ad window.  At first I thought I must have used the word ‘strudel’ in an email.  That would be odd, but not unheard of – I come from a very German part of Wisconsin, and ate plenty of apple strudel growing up.  In fact, we had to sell something like strudel door-to-door to raise money for band at school.  Technically, those were kringles, though, not strudels.  Anyway, I thought maybe I discussed a recipe for apple strudel or something with my sister, who is an excellent baker, and just didn’t remember doing so.

Apple Strudel

I searched my mail, though, and was surprised to find that the other two words were the culprits.  They appeared in plenty of emails in my trash folder.  Don’t worry.  I didn’t intentionally have regular discussions about vegetables or spam with other real human beings.  The words show up at the bottom of other advertising emails I get because I bought something and never bothered to unsubscribe from a mailing list.  ‘Vegetable,’ in the case of a gift from Williams Sonoma, and ‘spam,’ courtesy of Writer’s Digest emails that have a daily ad for some other writing website at the bottom promising that if you sign up for their weekly email report, you will get no ‘spam.’

Back to Spam Vegetable Strudel, though.  Because I am obsessed with looking things up on the Internet, I took a few minutes to Google ‘strudel,’ because I thought strudel was only a sweet pastry.  It turns out that savory strudels are not uncommon in Germany, but I have to think Germans would be mortified at this version of a time-honored tradition that dates back hundreds of years.  Serve with soy sauce?!? Come on.  There’s just something wrong with the whole picture.

Follow the links and make your day a little richer

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Michael’s analogy between the ultra-precious video game tokens of his youth and the concept of value in his current life is a great read, especially if you remember how priceless those tokens really were.

I’ve said before that I’m not a fan of people apologizing for their lack of blogging, but here is one brilliant exception.  The Wuc always makes things funny, but follow her into the doldrums as she describes “The elastic gave out in my blogging undies and they’ve been languishing around my ankles for some time now.”

Claire sets her goals for 2012, and you can’t help but be taken in by her optimism.  Go Claire!

You know I’m a pushover for language, for absurd vocabulary.  I just couldn’t resist this post.

Sarcasm is a great device for making a point.  Though not a new topic, still, a well-written account of how we shouldn’t treat grandma.

I can relate only too well to this piece, and I’m guessing I’ve reached this point many years earlier than the author.  A good reminder of what can happen if we let ourselves succumb to the fear of aging, or, if read another way, permission to tone things down as you move well beyond the age where you think you’re invincible.

I’m sure you’ve figured out by now how much I love Graham’s perspective.  His take on culture shouldn’t be missed as we head into the New Year.

Heat Waves

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I just spent a few days back home.  I think I’ll always consider Wisconsin home, even though I’ve lived away longer than I ever lived there.  It’s been almost twenty years since I officially left home, almost 17 here in the Bay Area, and although I love the way the Northern California climate spoils me, there’s something reassuring about the cold of a Wisconsin winter.  It reminds me who I am, though my ability to capture what that means is rather like watching my breath freeze and disappear every time I exhale in the frozen air.

As I was leaving California, I couldn’t believe how bad my timing was – we were about to have a heat wave here, and the temperatures were going to be in the 70s, while I boarded a flight to the frozen tundra, bracing myself for the deep cold.  Turns out, though, there was a bit of a heat wave in Wisconsin, too.  It was in the 40s almost the entire time I was there.  The first day, though, the temperature hovered around 20.

While I’ve lived through many days significantly colder than that, 20 degrees is just cold enough to make you stiffen, to feel sharp pinpricks on exposed skin when the wind blows, and to curse the fact that you don’t have gloves or a hat to help fight back the advance of  invisible frozen fingers that grip you and hold you stiff as a board until you find some relief in the heat of a car or a warm living room.  Living through that kind of cold, day in and day out, breeds a sort of toughness, and comes with a warped sense of pride – it has something to do with survival, I think.  Or maybe I only see it that way because of the distance I now have.

I called my dad to wish him a Happy Birthday after I got home today, and I mentioned our Northern California heat wave.  He lives in Northern Illinois, and I wasn’t home long enough to visit him.  He said, “Well, we’re having a heat wave here, too, really.  It’s been in the 40s and we haven’t even had two inches of snow this year.”  “That’s nuts,” I replied.  “Well, it doesn’t hurt my feelings any,” he said, to which I began to laugh.  He joined me, both of us chuckling at the words he had chosen.  “I”m getting too old for snowmobiles, I sure as hell don’t want to shovel it, and I damn well hate to drive in it,” he continued.  “So it can stay this way as far as I’m concerned,” he finished.  And he’s lived in it all of his 59 years.

I often wonder why people stay in the harsher parts of the world when there are places more temperate, where Mother Nature is more accommodating, less of an adversary.  Then I go back to the cold.  I breathe it in deeply, very deliberately feeling the way it freezes the passageways it follows into my lungs, and a sense of familiarity settles in.  It’s that very cold comfort that reminds me of my roots, my family, my heritage, and I realize again that it’s home, and though I wasn’t meant to stay there, not everyone likes to leave home.

Happy New Year, and may you see many vegetable people in 2012

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I was just glancing through “Old Friend from Far Away,” thinking it’s been a while since I just wrote randomly from a writing prompt.  I stopped on a page titled “Radish.”  The first paragraph opens:

“This is a wish. When you are writing about a radish, that you and the radish meet face to face. That you stay specific, present, and direct and through your true intention the radish becomes RADISH. You instantaneously summon the particular and also give life to the essence of that buried root plucked up red and edible.”

It’s good advice, I think, as I’m typing it out now, but that’s not what came to mind when I began to read.  I got distracted by memories of vegetable people.  I went through an odd phase a long time ago, when I couldn’t help but compare people to vegetables.  Visually, I mean.  One night, I was sitting at IHOP with my roommate and best friend, and someone walked in and I said, “Doesn’t that woman look like broccoli?”  My friend worked hard not to spit out his coffee, but in the end, he agreed that she looked surprisingly like a stalk of broccoli.  I can’t picture her anymore or I’d describe it for you better.  You might think people don’t really look a lot like vegetables, and maybe you’re right.  But, I challenge you to give it some thought.  You may not always see a vegetable when you look at a person, but you will be surprised how often you do, if you just think about it.  Leave your mind open to the fact that people can resemble, or at the very least, remind you of, vegetables.  Or other foods, if you need a broader target.

In the next few days, you might find yourself noticing that someone with a mottled complexion makes you think of frozen mixed vegetables, or someone that stands stiffly brings to mind a carrot.  Perhaps a balding man reminds you of a peeled onion, or someone else with spiky hair makes you think of the root end of a green onion.  The point is, allowing yourself the extra space to think about random things like this might make you smile just a little more frequently, and we could all stand to do that.  My New Year’s resolution is to see more vegetable people this year.

I haven’t given it a lot of thought until this minute, but if I had to classify a few of the characters I’ve introduced you to here, I’d say this.  My partner most resembles a stalk of celery (she’ll probably want to smack me for this comparison, but I mean no harm).  Barefoot boss – he’s a fingerling potato.  Gopher-man, hmm, I’ll have to come back to him – a cabbage, maybe.  Long Back Guy, an unripened Fresno chili.  The Guatemalan, a pineapple.  Cat Power, a roma tomato. Grass-phobia girl, a crimini mushroom.  Me, I probably look sort of like an eggplant.  Happy New Year!

Check ’em out – more good reading

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As he so often does, Graham shares an enlightening perspective – this time on the evolution of Christmas.  [Graham – I promise I’m not a stalker. I just really love your writing and your perspective!  I often have to start my next ‘great links’ post before I finish the one in progress because I have more than one of your posts I want to share.  Maybe that does make me a stalker…]

Check out this brief history of the Concise Oxford English Dictionary – had I known about this before Christmas, I might’ve asked for the original.  I bet it’s fascinating.

This list of the top ten writing blogs for 2011 is a great resource.  I am already a reader of Terrible Minds, but now have a bunch more to add to my list.

I only recently stumbled across Millie Ho’s blog, but I’ve become a fast fan.  Even this piece that she shares as an example of something she seems to think wasn’t great, really is great.

Category obsessions

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I am obsessed with organizing things.  Last week, I finally figured out that I could display my categories as nested, so I promptly went about creating new categories, regrouping everything, and applying new categories to my 100+ posts.  I loved every minute of it!  Now, when I glance at the navigation pane on the right hand side of the screen, though, I see too many categories with only one post in them – and that’s starting to bug me, too.  Neurotic, I know, but that’s not really news, is it?  See here and here if you think it is.

So, for the moment, I am going to to use my own category list as writing prompt inspiration.  We’ll see how it goes…  First on the list – Cocktails.

I am a cocktail sort of person.  I like wine – drink it at dinner sometimes, but I absolutely abhor beer.  Cardinal sin for someone that grew up near Brew City, I know, but it is what it is. One of my favorite cocktails is the mai tai.  Now, if you’ve never had a really good mai tai, you won’t know that the drink is not so much about the fruit, but about the rum – but, I’ll forgive you for that.  For now.

Interestingly, the best mai tai I ever had was at a restaurant in St. Louis, of all places.  Perhaps more significant was that I was at the restaurant for a work function with my clients at the time – a major beer brewing bunch.  We’re at this super fancy restaurant with lots of marketing bigwigs in attendance, and at each end of the table sits a big metal tub on a stool, full of some of the cheapest beer you can find in the world, among a hill of crushed ice.  I was supposed to drink it – we all were.  Even if you hate the products of your clients, when you work in marketing, you must pretend you love them anyway.  If you drool over them, that’s even better.

Lucky for me, one of the people at the client also disliked beer.  She whispered to me at one point.  “I hate beer.  But I’ve found that if I take a beer, put it in front of my plate, act like I’m drinking it now and then, that’s enough.  I can even sneak in a cocktail on the side and no one will really say much.”  With that, I quietly ordered my mai tai, and as I said – it was the best I’ve ever had, so I’m glad I took the risk.

To help me illustrate my point about just how misunderstood the mai tai is, read this post.  It will set you straight.  If you like rum, and you’ve never had a classic mai tai – try one.  You won’t be sorry you did.