Looking Back: the A-Z Challenge

Thought for the day:  No job's over 'til the paperwork's done.

Hmmm, so what do I think...?

Okay, so technically, it isn't  paperwork, but the organizers of the A-Z Challenge did ask us to dish up some feedback about our experiences with the challenge. So, here goes:

Overall, the challenge was ... what can I say? ... challenging.  (Go figure.) I completed all my A-Z posts in advance, and had the foolish notion that I'd be able to skate through the month with only minimal time on Blogger, and thus, would have a lot more time to spend on my real writing. (i.e. the long-suffering WIP)

HA! NOT!!!

I also had the rather deranged delusion that I'd have plenty of time to make a quick fly-by in-and-out visit to all of the participating blogs.

Again, HA! Not even CLOSE. I ended up visiting maybe half of them.

But both of these issues are on me. My fault. Turns out, I'm lousy at making in-and-out visits. If my initial reaction to a blog was favorable, I'd fiddle-fart around and read the blogger's profile and a bunch of earlier posts to see if I wanted to sign on as a follower. That took time, but on the plus side, all the blogs I did sign onto are ones I will truly enjoy re-visiting.

So, in a nutshell:

WHAT WENT RIGHT

• I learned to write shorter, to-the-point blog posts. (Caveat: It's unlikely the lesson will stick.)
• I had FUN writing all those posts about amateur radio.
• Evidently, some people had fun reading them, too. 
• I picked up a bunch of new followers, some of whom may actually come back to visit again. Some day. This decade. Maybe.
• Some of the themes followed by other bloggers were downright entertaining, clever, and informative. (Which, of course, meant I had to go back to them again and again. WHAT? I couldn't risk missing something, now, could I?)
• I connected with some truly awesome bloggers. Dare I say, made a friend or two?

WHAT WENT WRONG

• I didn't have enough hours in a day. (Believe it or not, my husband still expected three meals a day, clean laundry, and all that jazz. I KNOW. How cavalier, huh?)
• A number (don't ask me how many) of bloggers who signed up to participate weren't doing the A-Z at all. And some blogs (i.e. websites) were more or less advertisements for some product or service.
• Some blogs warned ahead of time about adult content, and that's fine. However, some others didn't offer the courtesy of a warning, but immediately went into dropping F-bombs and other colorful expressions. My ears and eyes have been around the block a time or two, so it didn't offend me, but there were some very sweet youngsters participating in the challenge, too. Seems to me, if you're gonna participate in a challenge of this magnitude, essentially holding an open house at your blog, you should clean the dirt up a bit, ya know?
• Some of the blogs I visited received little or no comments on post after post after post, so I'm thinking they probably received little traffic. They were good blogs, too, and terrific posts. All that time and effort to write all those posts, and then little to show for it? That must have been very discouraging. 

AM I GLAD I PARTICIPATED?  

• Yep.

WILL I PARTICIPATE AGAIN?

• Not sure, but just in case, I DO already have a couple themes in mind ...

[One thing is certain: I am definitely glad it's over! How about you?]

            Ooops! Time to run. Looks like my cats want some attention...

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

In the Zone

Thought for the day:  Hopeful thinking can get you our of your fear zone and into your appreciation zone.  [Martha Beck]

Yes, indeedy. It's that time again, people.  Yet another month has slipped through our fingers, and it is once again time for our IWSG monthly posts. As always, thanks to our fearless leader, Alex Cavanaugh, for founding this fine group, and thanks to all the other nurturing guys and gals who've helped turn it into the thriving community it is today. I'm telling ya, this group offers better support and lift than the world's most expensive bra. (No pesky underwires, either!) To join this super duper supportive group of writers and to see links to other participating blogs, please go HERE

Well, yes sirree, I took most of the month of April off from blogging, ostensibly to get back to my poor neglected manuscript, which has been gathering dust for the past year. I knew it would be difficult to get back into the groove after so long, but um, I failed to even find the darned groove. To tell the truth, I didn't spend much time looking for it, either. I still believe in the value of the story I want to tell, but the truth is, I don't know if I can regain the enthusiasm it requires to get 'er done or not. At least, not right now, because I'm having a hard time believing writing even... matters. (Yeah, I know. Blasphemy, eh?) But I'm not quite ready to give up yet.

Because of my current situation, this month's question is particularly pertinent:

Do you have any rituals that you use when you need help getting into the ZONE? Care to share?

[image: unsplash]

Well, that's a real challenge, isn't it? Or as someone much smarter than I said, "Therein lies the rub..."

OY! I'd LOVE to get back into the normal zone again. I really would. I'd love to fire that ol' football into the end zone in a perfect spiral, right into the hands of a deft receiver. Woo HOO! Touchdown!

Or, um... I'd settle for a few successfully written pages.

Unfortunately, I seem to have... dropped the ball. And rather than trying to recover it, I've retreated to the bench. I don't feel like playing.

The zone is a state of mind which is marked by a sense of calmness. In addition, there is a heightened sense of awareness and focus. Actions seem effortless and there is an increased belief that your dreams or goals can become achievable and real. In addition, there is also a sense of deep enjoyment when the person is in this unique, special, and magical state of being. [Dr. Jay Granat, sports psychologist]

[image: unsplash]

You ever been in that kind of zone? The closest I've ever been was at the bowling alley some years ago. At the time, I bowled on multiple leagues, and I was pretty good... but certainly not great. But that one night... it was as though I could do no wrong. STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! Some of my balls curved into the pocket like magic, but even the ones that weren't exactly on target resulted in yet another strike. It was incredible! A crowd gathered behind our lanes, watching and cheering me on, but  I could barely hear them for the pounding of my heart. I could barely breathe.

And I blew it. Got a split in the tenth frame and ended up with a 261. But man oh man, it sure felt good while it lasted. It felt good when I was writing regularly every day, too, but if I were to compare what's happening now to what happened in that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to roll a perfect game, I haven't just rolled a split in the tenth frame. I didn't roll a ball at all. I simply shoved it back into my bag and retreated to the lounge to sing some karaoke.

[image: unsplash]

Alas, my bowling days are over, but it's probably just as well. Judging by how lost I feel these days, I'd probably roll the ball in the wrong direction.

It's the same with writing. I've been in the zone there before, too, but I'm having a hard time finding my way back. Then again, I'm not looking very hard, either.

[image: unsplash]

Sure, I used to have some writing rituals. I learned to write first thing in the morning... before I even allowed myself to read the newspaper. And I'd stop writing for the day right in the middle of a scene, which made it easier to get back to it the next day.

Now, it's like my inner self is rebelling. Reading the newspaper comes first. Writing generally loses out, because there's always something else that requires my attention.

Clearly, I need some new rituals if I ever want to finish my book(s). (Or maybe I just need to get back to the old rituals.)

                                                    But rituals don't always work.

[image: wikimedia]

Not that I'm not in the zone... of course I am! For better or worse, we're all in some kinda zone. The problem is, it feels like I've ventured into the twilight zone.

Life has been rather surreal for the past year. Between my husband's whack-a-mole battles with cancer and now, this pandemic, somehow, whether or not I write doesn't seem to matter very much in the scheme of things, ya know?

What matters most is spending time with  my husband. What matters is laughing and making the most of each day. In due time, perhaps writing will regain its level of importance in my life that it once enjoyed. But ya know what? If it doesn't, I'm okay with that. Life is good. And besides, writing isn't the only game in town. (Think I'm too old for football...?)

How about you? How do you get... and keep... yourself in the zone? Go on... I'm all ears...

                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Back in the Saddle Again

Thought for the day: A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kickboxing.

Hi-ya! April sure did fly by, didn't it? For those of you who successfully completed the A-Z Challenge, congratulations! I hope you had a blast, and made a bunch of new friends along the way. I'll be looking forward to getting back in touch with you guys, and finding out what I missed while I was away from the blogosphere.

Me? I enjoyed my break, and actually did some writing on my next book. Not as much as I would have liked, but 20,000 words is 20,000 more than zero. (Profound, eh?) Now the trick will be to keep plugging away at it.

Some years back, while in the middle of writing my first book, a Chinese restaurant fortune cookie provided me with this message. It tickled me so much, that fortune is still pinned to my bulletin board.

Now, I don't believe in horoscopes, so don't ask me why I read the darn thing every day. Habit, I guess. Anyhow, in the middle of April, right about the time I was starting to doubt my sanity for attempting to write another book... let along THREE of them, because it's a trilogy... the newspaper delivered me this horoscope. In case you can't quite read it, it says, You've the courage to try for your exciting goal; then again, a  lot of people have that much courage. Do you also have the courage to try again? And then another time? That's the rare courage it will take to succeed. Cool, huh? I don't know if I have the courage (or longevity) to complete three more books, but I've at least found something to add to my bulletin board. Life is good.

The latest update on the case of the Affluenza kid: He has been sentenced to two years in prison. Not as much as he deserved, perhaps, but I suspect the smirk of entitlement has finally been wiped from his face.

Okay, in an attempt to ease back into the swing of things, and because this Sunday is Mothers' Day, I'm gonna re-run an appropriate post from a few years ago, entitled If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother. I hope you enjoy it.

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

Thought for the day:  I want my children to have all the things I couldn't afford. Then I want to move in with them.  [Phyllis Diller]

Giving birth is easy. It's like pulling a watermelon out of your nose.

This coming Sunday is Mothers' Day, so what better time to write about mothers, right?

A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never cared for pie.  [Tenneva Jordan]


Far beyond the obvious physical changes, there's something about the miracle of having a child that changes a woman forever. Suddenly, a woman who used to be able to sleep through a sonic boom wakes up on full alert every time her baby rolls over or makes the tiniest sound. After having a baby, a woman who used to be a walking fashion plate doesn't think twice about wearing wrinkled clothes stained with spit-up. And holy moley, her capacity to love expands even more than her waistline did. (Good thing, too... if it didn't, no woman would ever have more than one child!)

Suddenly, nothing is quite as sweet as those tiny little baby feet. They're downright kissable, aren't they?

There is an instinct in a woman to love most her own child— and an instinct to make any child who needs love, her own. [Robert Brault]

Then, practically overnight, babies become teenagers, and all of a sudden the little kid who used to be afraid of the dark wants to stay out half the night with his friends. The princess who didn't take her first step until she was almost a year old wants to borrow the car. They will always be the children of her heart, but more and more, they also become children of the world.

The best way to keep children at home is to make the home atmosphere pleasant — and let the air out of the tires.  [Dorothy Parker]

But the truth is, no matter how big her babies' feet get to be, they still belong to her babies. Doesn't matter if those feet belong to a teacher, a doctor, or are ensconced in a pair of combat boots. Babies, one and all.

Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What's that supposed to mean? In my heart, it don't mean a thing. [Toni Morrison- Beloved]

Of all the things I've ever read about mothers, I think Erma Bombeck said it the absolute best in her essay, When God Created Mothers:

When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."

And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."

"That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

"One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

"God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."

"I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

"But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can't  imagine what this mother can do or endure."

"Can it think?"

"Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

"There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."

"It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."

"What's it for?"

"It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."

"You are a genius, " said the angel.

Somberly, God said, "I didn't put it there.”

****

And just as our mothers always look at us as their children, a certain part of us wants to hang onto them, too. We don't want things to change. We want them to always be there, our home plate in the game of life, our constant refuge. We don't want them to grow old; we don't want them to get sick, and God knows, we don't want them to die.  But even after they do, they live on forever in our hearts.

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.  [Honore de Balzac]

Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall; a mother's secret love outlives them all. [Oliver Wendell Holmes]

To all of you mothers, I wish you a wonderful Mother's Day. To all of you whose mothers are still with you, cherish them, not just on Mothers' Day, but every day of the year. To those of you experiencing that heart-wrenching role reversal—  taking care of your mothers, essentially mothering your mothers, as they once took care of you, with them depending on you as you once depended on them— bless you. I know how hard it is. For those of you whose mothers are no longer with us, I know you'll be thinking of them. And as long as they live in our hearts, they're never entirely gone.

Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother's love is not. [James Joyce]

                             Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Strip Poker, Anyone?

Thought for the day:  Other people have wrinkles. I prefer to think of mine as character lines.

Well, looky here. An award. How cool is that? It's always nice to be considered ... kreativ.


This award came from a new blogging pal from the A-Z, Maryann Miller and I really do appreciate it. Except, the thing is, now I'm supposed to give up ten more things about myself that I haven't already blabbed about in earlier posts like this. Sheesh, with all the tidbits I threw into the pot in other bare it all award posts, if this were a game of strip poker, I'd already be shivering a little. For those of you interested in catching up on earlier revelations, you can look here and more here and even more here and ohmigod, please make her stop Okay, I stopped. Now, let's see if I can some up with a winning hand here without having to resort to telling you (UGH!) my favorite color. Okay, ten things. Here goes:

1. My parents didn't believe in doling out allowances, so if I wanted money, I jolly well had to find a way to earn it on my own. So I made and sold lemonade to construction workers, did yard work, washed and waxed cars, cleaned house, polished silver, and baked all kinds of goodies. And ya know what? It didn't kill me.

2. But looking back,  it's a wonder I didn't manage to kill myself in other ways. If someone dared me to do something, nine times out of ten, I was gonna give it a try. Like the time I accepted the dare to ride my bicycle down the steps outside the elementary school. The series of steps were built down a steep hill to the lower play areas, so that there were like eight concrete steps, then a small concrete landing, then eight more steps, another landing, and the final eight steps leading onto the field. Picture that? Well, I did fine on the first set of steps, and then the front tire hit the first landing KAPOW, and the bike went barreling down the second flight like a proverbial bat outta hell. Hit that second landing going about a bazillion miles an hour, and I kid you not, the bike flipped a complete somersault in the air. Heck, maybe it even flipped twice. All I know is it flew in one direction, and I went spinning through the air in another. Oh, did I happen to mention that the banisters on either side of those steps were made of steel? No? Well, they were. And I smashed into one of them, head-first. When I came to, luckily, I wasn't dead. Might very well explain my weird sense of humor, though.

3. The first boy-girl party I attended was a bit unusual. See, I spent half the party in the back room shooting craps with a bunch of guys. That is, until the boy hosting the party took me outside to show me how to hot-wire a car. (Told you it was unusual.)

4. When we were in high school, my husband, a few of the other kids, and I played strip poker in the bus on the way home from a field trip to Philadelphia. (from Baltimore) I mean, what can I say? The setting was just right. Dark outside, and there we were, safe inside the dimly lit bus with a bunch of tired kids. Besides, I'm a pretty darned good poker player, if I must say so myself. Oh, one thing. We only lost articles of clothing ... on paper. (Didn't even remove our shoes.)

5. Following President Kennedy's assassination, I joined the crowd in D.C. to see his casket carried by caisson from the rotunda to the cathedral. On that very cold day, masses of people of all ages gathered along both sides of the road to pay their respects. And with all those people, even young children and babes in arms, the only sound I can remember hearing, the only thing that broke the eerie silence, was the somber clop-clop of horses' hooves.

6. Following Martin Luther King's assassination, riots broke out in numerous parts of the country. The worst were in D.C., Chicago, and Baltimore. I happened to work in downtown Baltimore at the time, and had the misfortune of being caught in the middle of the riots. An angry mob of black men surrounded the car, glared in the windows at us, and then began rocking the car. It was the first time (and thankfully, the only time) I ever saw blind hatred with my own eyes.

7. Rather than waste my breath, I  hauled our sons' little keisters to the police station and got an officer to put some fear into their hearts. The boys had defied my orders not to buy ninja stars. (Remember when they were all the rage in the seventies?) They didn't believe ME when I told them how dangerous those things could be, but they definitely believed the policeman.

8. I like to dabble with oil paints every now and then. This picture hangs on our bedroom wall. People always used to ask if it was a self-portrait. (No, it isn't.) Funny ... nobody ever asks anymore. (sigh)

9. (Whew! Almost done!) I mentored several teenagers as part of our church's confirmation process, and every month or so, would take them to another church to attend a worship service. The week we were to attend a non-denominational charismatic church, I laughingly assured the parents that at the first sign of rattlesnakes, we'd hightail it out of there. As it turned out, I dunno if any snakes showed up or not. See, an hour or so into the service, the music started getting progressively louder and louder, faster and faster. Trumpets were blaring, and drums were thump, thump, thumping out a blood-stirring primitive beat. Then, here and there, people started to stand, and began swaying slowly in place, with eyes rolled back, and arms lifted skyward. Then began the remarkable sound of people all around us ... babbling in tongues. Um, not that it wasn't fascinating in a terrifying kinda way, but to tell the truth, some Lutherans aren't even comfortable with the whole sharing of the Holy Spirit awkward hug, ya know? So, talking in tongues? Let's just say it wasn't to our taste. We, uh, didn't hang around for the snakes.

10. I enjoy plunking on the guitar. After playing the same one (the one in the picture) for many many years, I treated myself to a shiny new one last year.Our son-in-law, a professional musician, took her for a spin and declared her to have a fine sound. Me, I immediately removed all the steel strings and replaced them with nylon. What? The heck with the fine sound. Nylon is easier on my fingers.


Woo, HOO! Didn't even  have to tell you my favorite color, did I? Now that you know much more about me than you ever cared to know, my task is to pass this award onto some other bloggers. Not sure how many. Probably ten, but I'm gonna pass it on to three. (Being rejected by ten would be highly devastating. Three, I can handle.) And psssst! If you three just wanta tell us your favorite color and what animal you'd be if you could come back as one, or whatever, by all means, go for it. Whatever ten things, long or short, silly or serious,  that you'd like to peel off and throw into the pot would be fine.

So, with a drum roll and no further ado, I pass this lovely award to

• Suze of Analog Breakfast I just met her through the A-Z, and am totally taken with her blog, which is always intelligent and thought-provoking. Check it out. You'll love the stimulating discussions.
• Geo of Trainride of the Enigmas His blog  is one of the best-kept secrets of the Blogosphere. His posts are always clever, well-written, and often, chuckle-worthy. I'm amazed that he doesn't have billions and billions of followers.
• Rubye of Rubye Jack I just met Rubye through the Challenge, too, and find her posts to be open, honest, and served with a grain of grit.

If you aren't familiar with these folks, I urge you to check 'em out. Go ahead ... I double dog dare ya! (Hey! Have I ever steered you wrong?)

                                   Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

That's Not Peanuts!

Thought for the day:  Don't take life too seriously and always remember: it is just a passing fad. [Mick Jagger]

[Mick Jagger 2013- wikipedia]

Whatever Jagger's opinions may be about life, it's probably a safe bet that he's gotten more than a little satisfaction over the fact that the Rolling Stones proved to be a whole lot more than a passing fad.

Nope, not gonna be writing about the Stones today, although I did amuse myself for a few minutes by jotting down a bunch of their song titles, and wondering how many of them I could slip into this post without anyone noticing. I dunno why. Just for kicks? A challenge? Because I'm listening to one of their CDs right now? Take your pick. But as fun as that idea might be, I'm going to let it loose for  now, so I'm free, instead, to shine a light on kicks, challenges and wagers, and some of the crazy things ordinary salt of the earth people are willing to do on the basis of a drawn card, a pair of tumbling dice, or a simple handshake.

[morguefile]

In some areas of our country, bizarre stunts are often predicated by a guy telling his buddies, Here, hold my beer. But sometimes, people... usually of the male persuasion... are simply daredevils looking for a blast of adrenaline. Okay, I get that. A whole team of wild horses couldn't convince me to pull any of those boneheaded antics, but still, I get it. Sorta.

Ormer Locklear- 1920 [wikipedia]

Then again, I wasn't around in the 1920s. Back then, thrill-seeking was practically a national pastime. No wonder the decade was dubbed the Roaring Twenties.

Last month, I did a post about a guy who, as the result of a drunken bet, stole an airplane and landed it on a New York street right in front of the bar where he left his buddies. (If you missed it, you can find it here.) But in the '20s, people got their kicks out of walking on the wings of airplanes... and hanging from them... and doing all kinds of other nutso stunts. And not usually because of a bet, either... because they wanted to do it! It was a fad, as was swallowing live goldfish, walking on tightropes, and sitting atop flagpoles for prolonged periods of time. I can understand sittin' on a fence, within a nice safe hopping-off distance from the ground, but a way-up-there flagpole? For days and days and days on end? Um, no thanks. Ditto the live fish-eating and the tightrope walking. Heck, I have no self-expectations about walking safely across a perfectly flat piece of land without tripping over an errant blade of grass, so no way I'd have any interest in trying to walk over a canyon on a lousy piece of wire...

[Herbert Hoover -wikipedia]

Anyhow, today's story is about another bet, although this one doesn't involve anything illegal, or particularly dangerous. A little on the wacky side, perhaps, but it was the '20s...

In 1928, a Texan named Bill Williams made a wager with his father-in-law over the upcoming presidential election. (There's no indication whether or not adult beverages were involved in said transaction, but come on... I think it's a fairly safe bet they were.)

Anyway, Bill bet that Al Smith would be elected, and his father-in-law picked Hoover. The stakes? If Smith won, the father-in-law would have to stand on his head in the middle of the Rio Hondo bridge for an HOUR. If Hoover won, Bill had to push a peanut over that same bridge with his NOSE... and keep on a-pushin' until he reached the next town... eleven miles away. It took the poor schnook nine days to complete his crazy peanut-pushing trip, at which time, I'm sure he had one mighty sore schnoz and was plenty torn and frayed at the end, but he did it. (His father-in-law must have had a heart of stone to make him follow through... I mean, couldn't he have ended the ordeal after, I dunno, five or six days... or better yet, after a few hours?)

[morguefile]

Never mind. Bill probably wouldn't have backed down from the challenge, even if his father-in-law offered, because evi-damned-dently, he wanted to do it. Know how I know? Because after meeting that challenge, he made a new peanut-pushing bet with his buddies. According to the Mysteries of the Museum website, the stakes were five hundred dollars, and some other accounts claim it was fifty bucks. Either amount of money wasn't exactly peanuts  in 1929. But all accounts agree on what Williams had to do to win the bet...

[Pikes Peak- wikipedia]

Most people are enthralled with Pikes Peak because of the glorious views. In fact, in 1893, the view inspired Katharine Lee Bates to write American the Beautiful.

Apparently, Bill Williams had other thoughts when he looked at the picturesque mountain. He thought it'd be a grand place to push a peanut with his nose, and he bet he could make the 22-mile trip all the way up Pikes Peak Highway to the top of the mountain in 22 days. This time, however, he made sure he was better prepared than he was for his initial peanut-pushing adventure. He brought extra peanuts, wore leather pads on his knees, and brought multiple pairs of shoes and canvas gloves. Oh yeah, he did a better job protecting his poor schnoz this time, too. He wore a face mask with a two-foot metal extension attached to his nose. Bottom line? He did it, and it took him 21 days, so he won the bet. He was the first Pikes Peak peanut pusher, but he wasn't the last. In 1963, a rock 'n' roll musician named Ulysses Baxter accomplished the same feat in 8 days, and in 1976, a college student pared the time down to an astonishing 4 days, 23 hours, and 47 minutes.

Quite a feat, eh? As for me, if I'm ever there, I'd rather use my God-given feet to hike up that road, (Oh, who am I trying to kid? I'd be in a CAR.) and if someone ever gave me a fistful of peanuts, my first inclination wouldn't be to push them anywhere, especially with my nose. Nope, give me peanuts, and they're going into that orifice under my nose. I'm jolly well  gonna eat 'em.

Well, it looks like I'm running out of time to be on the computer for now, so I'd better run. (Okay, walk slowly...) As for this post? It's all over now.

                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. In case you were counting, I used thirteen song titles in this post. (What??? So I fibbed a little. You can't always get what you want.) Oops... make that fourteen.

The most dangerous risk of all: the risk of spending your life not doing what you want to do on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later. [author unknown]

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Thought for the day: The only journey is the one within.  [Rainer Maria Rilke]

[morguefile]

Back in the sixties, a lot of people expressed an aching need to find themselves. There were plenty of self-proclaimed gurus around, too, who scrambled to serve as tour guides for anyone interested in taking an introspective trip or two. (Psychedelic drugs extra.)




Who am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle. [Lewis Carroll]

I never fooled around with all that navel-gazing stuff, because I was too busy doing what I had to do to wonder why I was doing it. Besides, I wouldn't have known what I was supposed to be looking for in there. Lint? The lost colonists of Roanoke? Some kinda weird voodoo vortex of self-validity? Yeah... lint.

It is necessary... for a man to go away by himself... to sit on a rock... and ask, 'Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?'  [Carl Sandburg]

Maybe ol' Carl had it right. Maybe I should go into isolation and stare at my belly button for a while.

Nah. I can't go away... who'd clean the litter boxes? Besides, I kinda like hanging around with Smarticus, and ya know, sitting on a rock doesn't hold nearly as much appeal as it once did.

Oh, I'm so full of it. The truth is, the only thing I'm going away from for a while is... blogging. Just as I've done the past couple years, while a bunch of  you are participating in the A-Z challenge, I'm gonna be doing my thing... whatever the heck that may be. No sweat. I'll figure it out. Hopefully, I'll get some writing done, but there's no telling. The only thing I know for sure is I won't be paying any attention to my own belly button. (The poor neglected thing.) Maybe I'll just enjoy life, rearrange a dust bunny or two, and take time to admire every rainbow.

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.  [Franz Kafka]

                                            Solitude?  Obviously, Kafka didn't have any cats.

Before I go, how about some stuff to tickle your brains and funny bones?

• A Buddhist monk walks up to a hot dog stand and tells the guy, "Make me one with everything."
• Did you hear about the paranoid dyslexic? He always felt like he was following someone.
• If it's zero degrees outside today, and it's supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it gonna be tomorrow?
• If a Jewish man marries a Catholic woman, what song should be played at their wedding? Simple... Oy Vey, Maria.
• The first testicular guard (AKA cup) was worn by players in a hockey game in 1874, but hockey players didn't start wearing a helmet until 1974. Can you believe that? It took 'em a full century to decide their brains might have some purpose, too.
• Have you ever wondered why people with closed minds open their mouths so much?
• It must be very difficult to explain puns to a kleptomaniac. They always take things literally.
• A Roman walks into a bar and raises two finger. "Five beers, please."
• Sartre was in a French cafe and asked for a cuppa coffee without cream. The waitress said, "I'm sorry; we don't have any cream. Can I make it without milk?"
• Know how to tell the difference between a plumber and a chemist? Ask them to pronounce unionized.
• A Higgs-Boson particle walked into a church, and the priest said, "Sorry, but we don't allow Higgs- Bosons in here." Puzzled, the particle says, "But without me, how can you have mass?"
• A programmer's wife says, "Run to the store and get a loaf of bread, and if they have eggs. get a dozen." He came back home with twelve loaves of bread.
• Did you hear about the jurisprudence fetishist? He got off on a technicality.

 All of you A-Zers, have lotsa fun with this year's challenge. I'll catch y'all on the other side of the rainbow.

                               Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

WAZZUP???

Thought for the day:  Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important.  [Janet Lane]

Yep, Ms. Lane was right about the importance of a pleasant expression, but right now, my face is probably looking like, "Whoa! Where the heck did April go...?"

That's okay. I enjoyed my month-long break, even if it was the fastest month in the history of mankind. How about you guys? What's new with you? For those of you who participated in the A-Z challenge, how'd it go? Did you enjoy it?

One of the fun things Smarticus and I did last month was visit the Renaissance Festival. First time we went in... ages.  No, that isn't us in that picture, but aren't those costumes neat? There were lots of people there in costume. Lots of fun shows. A joust, even. We got a little bit of sunburn and a lotta tired. But it was fun.

There were all kinds of dragons, gargoyles, and spiffy monsters around, too. This guy was one of my favorites. Except he kinda reminded me of my conscience, bugging me about why I was spending so darned much time having fun, and so little time working on my next book. (Hey! I've got a TITLE... that's gotta count for something...)

But I laugh (HA!HA!HA!) at the notion of that bully conscience trying to intimidate ME...

Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused. 

Life is to be lived as play.  [said that smart dude Plato]

Okay, it's good to be back, but what the heck am I gonna write about today? Let's see, how about if I ease myself back into it by writing about a couple news stories that caught my fancy over the past few weeks? Just a couple...

[Wikipedia Common]

The first story is about a real honest-to-goodness whiz kid. It seems 19-year-old Dallas Delyn had the urge to um... whiz... and well, gee, it wasn't his fault he and his buddies just happened to be walking past the Mt. Tabor Reservoir in Portland, Oregon at the time. And all the signs on the fence around the reservoir said was something along the lines of, This is your drinking water. Don't spit, throw, or toss anything into it.

See? Not a doggone word about peeing.

 Well, his actions may have given him some instant relief, but there's been little relief from the ripples of notoriety he's gained from the e-pee-sode. You see, his um... act... was captured on the security camera. And is now plastered all over Youtube. (His parents must be soooo proud!) I'm certainly not condoning what he did, but I sure am scratching my head over what the city is doing in response. Would you believe they're flushing the whole darned reservoir? Despite the fact that the reservoir was just drained and cleaned a couple weeks earlier, and despite the fact that the water tested perfectly clean after the late-night tinkle, they're still gonna flush... and waste... 38 million gallons of water. Their justification? According to a city spokesman, the city has plenty of water, and they didn't want to serve water that had been deliberately tainted. Even the teen, who likely faces a stiff fine, was taken aback by this questionable logic. Says he's seen dead birds and animals floating in the water before, for crying out loud. Not to mention how many critters deliberately taint the drinking supply every single day. If Dallas were my son, though, I know just what I'd say to him: "Boy, urine trouble!"

[Wikimedia Common]

Want to get away from it all? How'd ya like to own your very own 17-acre island in Italy's beautiful Venice lagoon? That's it out there in the picture. Dreamy setting, isn't it? And I'll betcha the price won't be too high, either. Italy is about to auction off a ninety-nine year lease for the diminutive island of Poveglia, and the only way to have a ghost of a chance of getting that lease is by entering a bid. There is a teensy drawback, though. That island is considered the most (Wooo-OOO-ooo) haunted place on earth.

[Wikimedia Common]

Its eerie history started in the 18th century, when a couple ships heading to Venice dumped plague-infected passengers there to die. Then, the island became a handy depository for people infected with all sorts of infectious diseases. Later on, it became a dumping ground for homeless oldsters, and from 1922 to 1968, the island was a notorious hospital/asylum for the mentally ill, spawning rampant stories about creepy doctors and botched lobotomies. Rumor has it that one of those doctors was so plagued by ghosts, he jumped from the top of that bell tower in the photo to get away from them.

Although the island, whose soil is allegedly comprised of 50% human ash,  has been uninhabited and virtually off-limits for four decades, some of the buildings remain, including a church, hospital, prison, bell-tower, and some housing and administration buildings. And a couple open-air plague pits. If you're curious, check out this site to see some really terrific... and haunting... photographs. Fascinating stuff. From a respectful distance, that is...
.

[Wikimedia Common]

                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. Another short-time Goodreads giveaway contest for autographed copies of my book kicked off yesterday, and will end with a (ta DA!) drawing on Mothers' Day. Since most of the winners were on the other side of the world last time around, this contest is limited to the United States and Canada. As a follow-up, Amazon will be offering the e-version of my book from May 12th to the 18th for a measly ninety-nine cents. See? Can't lose!

[Thanks to icanhascheezburger.com for the use of those first two images.]

For Da Birds, Part Two

Thought for the day:  There is an unseen force which lets birds know when you've just washed your car.  [Denis Norden]

Yeah, so maybe there are a few drawbacks to having a passel of bird-filled trees in your yard. (Especially if they're mulberry trees.)

I thought of something else pet birds taught me: One of my aunt's parakeets could hang upside down from its perch like a bat. It was the darnedest thing...

Okay, ready for some more astoundingly fascinating bird trivia? (Or at least, a teensy bit interesting, anyway.)

First, some quick facts:

• Birds have hollow bones, which help them fly.
• Seagulls can drink sea water, because they have special glands that filter out the salt.
• A duck's quack doesn't echo.
• Penguins can jump up to six feet into the air. (Yeah, but how are they on free throws?)
• A chicken with red earlobes is likely to lay brown eggs; and one with white lobes, white eggs. No matter what color their earlobes are, none of them can swallow when upside down. And get this: believe it or not, the chicken is believed to be the closest living relative to the tyrannosaurus rex!
• Emus can't walk backwards.
• Puffins fly underwater.
• The male sand grouse soaks himself in water, and then flies to the nest so his young can drink from his feathers.
• Vultures can soar for hours without flapping their wings.
• The common loon can dive more than 76 meters below the water's surface.
• Owls can turn their heads almost 360 degrees, but they can't move their eyes.

The male frigatebird has a red inflatable  throat pouch, which he puffs up to attract a mate. If he gets rebuffed, I guess that deflates his ego and pouch.

Flamingos can only eat when their heads are upside down. (How can they swallow?)

The albatross, AKA goony bird, can sleep while in flight. He goes into snooze control at about 25 MPH.








Talk about miles per hour, which bird do you think is the fastest flyer? Most sources say the peregrine falcon holds that title, and can reach a speed of 200 MPH. However, I read one report of a spine-tailed swift flying an astonishing 220. At any rate, how'd you like to get a vicarious thrill? This video allows you to experience flight with a peregrine falcon and a gos hawk. Pretty doggone cool!

Did you know storks have no voice? That's because, unlike other birds, they don't have a syrinx, the usual sound-producing organ. They do, however, bang and clack their bills together as a means of communication. (Looks like avian sword-fighting...)

Don't ya love the sound of a woodpecker at work? Unless, of course, he's a much earlier riser than you are... and he's hammering on your gutters, or fiberglass boat. Would you believe woodpeckers can peck up to twenty times per second?!

The fine-looking malleefowl lives in Australia, and I guess you could call this bird a real environmentalist. He composts. Sorta. The female lays her eggs in a nest built of rotting vegetation, and the decaying process keeps the eggs warm. Papa checks the temperature often, and adjusts the pile as needed to maintain the warmth.

The catbird is a talented bird, who can imitate... Wait! Not THAT catbird...

THIS catbird.

This catbird imitates other bird calls, and can even meow like a cat.

As can a mockingbird, who has quite an impressive array of sounds and songs in his repertoire.

And here's the mighty bald... er, wig-wearing bald eagle. One of the more majestic birds, (without the toupee) most people are well aware of this bird's flying, swooping, and hunting capabilities, and of its great strength.

But did ya know he could...  swim?







                                                                      Check it out!

This guy is a cowbird. No, cowbirds  don't moo like cows, but they are cow groupies. They hang out with cattle, because moving herds stir up a mess of fresh cowbird food — insects. Because cowbirds stay on the move, they don't bother to build a nest. They share the nests of other birds. When the female sees an unattended egg-filled nest, she simply lays her little ol' eggs in there, too. She doesn't abandon her young entirely, though. She returns from time to time to observe, and if the other bird shoves her eggs out of the nest, well then, she may just have to retaliate by pushing the other eggs out, too.

That's about it from me. This barely even skims the surface of all the fascinating things there are to know about birds, and I'll betcha you could all add something. Like, anybody know about turkeys? Ben Franklin seemed to think they were intelligent birds, but I've read stories about them being so dumb they look skyward when it rains... and (bless their little hearts) drown. Izzat so?

And have you ever wondered why female blue jays don't have subdued coloring, like other female birds? I don't know if that's the case for any other species of birds; do you?

So, what have you got to add? Ever have any pet birds? Could they talk or do tricks? Do tell.

This is gonna be my last post for quite a while. I know a lot of you will be participating in the A-Z Challenge during the month of April, and I wish y'all a lot of fun with it. Not me. Not this year, anyway. Gonna take the month off and tend to some other writerly stuff. But I'll be around. I'll try to visit some of your blogs from time to time, and see how you're doing. If you leave me a comment here, I'll certainly respond, or if you want to get in touch with me, just use that little Email me thingie in the sidebar, and I'll get back to you.

In the meantime, if ya miss me, (and Johnny Carson) just watch this video... that myna sounds a little like me!

                                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[Images come to us courtesy of Wikipedia, Seniorark, and Morguefiles.]

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