Humor

My Politically Correct Pin

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Fish 002
Perhaps you own something that’s so politically and socially correct, it’s almost funny. My thing is a multi-colored fish pin (pictured here) that I bought in New Orleans many years ago, when Hurricane Katrina was only a gleam in the weatherman’s eye.

I can’t remember what store I bought it in, but I do remember it was made from recycled Mardi Gras gowns and television set wire by homeless, disabled (and probably starving) artists. Now, since Katrina, I can only imagine what kinds of politically and socially correct trinkets must be for sale in New Orleans.

Since I work for a water-related organization, I have opportunities to wear my pin sometimes, and to expound upon its virtues when asked. But mostly, I just like how it looks. The whole correctness thing is just a side benefit. Do you have a similar thing?

Another Dating Horror Story: The Johnny Carson Show Suit

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“Johnny Carson Tonight Show 1965” by NBC Television. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

My most recent post, a dating horror story, received a lot of views, and comments from my Facebook friends. I decided to stay on this topic for one more post just for kicks –not because I am perfect. I’m sure I’ve had my share of dating gaffes, although I can’t recall any. Probably because I have blocked them out of my mind to maintain my shaky self-confidence. (Smile.)

This dating story happened many years ago when I was in college. Johnny Carson was the King of Late Night Television and Stephen Hawking had just published “A Brief History of Time.” You may not think these things are related, but they are — at least in the mind of my college student date.

Our first dinner was winding down and my date told me he had read Stephen Hawking’s book. It inspired him to develop his own theory of time, which he assured me was even better than Hawking’s. In fact, it was so good that my date was sure he would be invited as a guest on the Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show. He even knew what suit he would wear on the show – a brown one, I believe.

Of course, the dear boy was just trying to impress me. (I don’t think he was even a science major.) However, bravado is one thing, and grandiose delusions are another. We did not go on another date.

As far as I know, nobody else has bested Mr. Hawking’s theory of time. But it was nice that my date knew just what to wear if he ever became famous. We should all be so prepared!

We Only Shoot the Things We Love

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A male wood duck. Image credit: “Brautente 2008-03-21 065” by BS Thurner Hof – Own work. Licensed under GFDL via Wikimedia Commons.

Dating horror stories – so miserable at the time but so fun to reminisce about after the dust has settled. And so fun to read. Here’s my contribution.

I met a man and, after a few weeks, visited his house for the first time. His place as well-cared for and impressive – until I got to the den. The walls were covered with taxidermied ducks. Now, I’m okay with hunting. I realize that meat needs to come from somewhere, and that hunting is sort of a dying art. But I soon discovered my date was hunting for a whole ‘nother reason.

His reason came to light when I couldn’t help but comment on the wood duck he had among his collection. Now, male wood ducks are like the Mr. Universe of the duck world. As you can see from the photo, they’re beautiful. They’re also rather rare in these parts. They nest in large holes in trees on the water. They don’t hurt anybody. And as faithful readers of my blog know, I have a thing for birds.

I made some sort of comment like – “Oh, and you’ve got a wood duck. They’re so beautiful….”

“That’s why I shot it,” he said.

Immediately, an irrational part of my woman dater’s brain thought: If this is what he does to things he finds beautiful, what will he do to things he loves? Heat-seeking missiles, maybe bombs? It reminded me of a quote from the poem by Oscar Wilde (“The Ballad of Reading Gaol”), “For each man kills the thing he loves…”

Of course, I know that there’s a big difference between killing a duck and killing a human, but try telling that to my primitive brain.

That relationship didn’t go very far.

Strange Goings-on at the Office (A.K.A. A Missed Opportunity with the Inventor of the Post-it Note)

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A coyote seen crossing the ice outside of my office.

A coyote seen crossing the ice outside of my office.

I’ve had the privilege of working in some unusual office buildings. They range from an historic federal building of imposing gray stone, a renovated college dorm with stone stairways grooved by the trodding of many feet, sterile medical center cubicles, a building with intricately carved panels on heavy brass doors and bathrooms with floors and stall dividers made of marble, a building in a tourist district that shared space with shops where my office was above a popular restaurant, and a basement newsroom filled with clacking typewriters.

But my most recent office building is the most interesting in several ways. It’s situated on an island in the Duluth-Superior Harbor in what was once was my favorite restaurant for Lake Superior fish. It features a deck that’s just steps from the water and from public docks. The building is in a city park that draws people for recreation.

When I was eating at the restaurant, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would one day work in the building, but as fate would have it, here I am, right in the spot where I ate lake trout with friends. I have two banks of windows that look out on the water. Although I assure you I spend most of my time staring at my computer screen, the windows have afforded plenty of opportunity to see other things in my three years here – like the coyote who crossed the ice from the mainland one spring, or the fox who heard a mouse underneath the deck and kept trying to pounce on it (see video here), or the family of otters cavorting in the water, or the disabled gull , or a young common tern begging its parent for food, or woodchucks sunning themselves on the deck, or the bear who walked through the parking lot.

Humans have also created distractions — like the guy who walked backwards past my office for several mornings in a row, only to pass by walking forwards minutes later in what must have been an exercise ritual. (Now he bikes past). Then there was the man who swam past my office. I read later in the newspaper that he was a long-distance swimmer who traveled from the Duluth to the Superior ship entries. My office is along the way. Then there was the man who drove a Zamboni down the road, and the man who wanted to build a world-record ice sculpture .

We get all sorts of people wandering inside our office as well, looking for public restrooms and tourist attractions that haven’t operated in the park for years. There was the tour busload of people who were looking for Wisconsin cheese, people who want to buy harbor boat tour tickets, people who think we’re the office for the historic ship that’s parked next door.

But sometimes we actually have visitors who take time to read the signs outside our office and want to know what kind of research we do. (For those of you who have not paid attention over the years, I work as a writer for a water research organization.) Sometimes these visitors are scientists, sometimes they are crackpots who want us to publish their theory to the universe and everything. But sometimes they’re the inventor of the Post-it Note.

Yes, you heard me right.

This week, the real live, honest-to-god inventor of the 3M Post-it Note dropped by the office on a whim to learn about what we do. He came in with his wife and talked with our receptionist, whose office is right outside mine. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation and recall thinking the duo asked intelligent questions. It was just as they were leaving that the wife told the receptionist that her husband was Arthur Fry, inventor of the Post-it Note. After a moment’s hesitation in disbelief, I rolled my chair over to my doorway just in time to see the retreating back and profile of the purported inventor.

Arthur Fry. Image courtesy of Wikipedia.

Arthur Fry. Image courtesy of Wikipedia.

I shrugged and went back to my task, but started thinking later in the day: what if he really was the inventor of the Post-it Note? What does the inventor of the Post-it Note look like, anyway? I looked him up on Wikipedia, and by Jove, our office visitor was a dead ringer.

It was then that I metaphorically kicked myself for not taking advantage of the opportunity. I should have run after him with my camera and new fancy digital voice recorder and interviewed him for my world-famous blog! He seemed like a very nice man, I’m sure he would have obliged. It’s just that I had spoken with one of the crackpot people only the day before and I wasn’t in the frame of mind to believe that a genuine inventor could just walk in off the street.

Next time, I assure you I’ll be ready. Now I’m just waiting for the person who invented the coffee cup sleeve to walk into my office.

The Moon Lodge

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MoonLodge

I often think the Native American practice of separating women who were having their periods from the tribe for four days or a week in their own tent was misguided. They should have separated them the week BEFORE their periods to limit the emotional carnage caused by PMS!

Then again, can you imagine what things would be like inside a tent of PMS-ing women? All closed in, together?

Maybe that’s not such a good idea.

A Glimpse Into the Northern MN Inner Sanctum

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The "Pioneers."

The “Pioneers.”

I spoke with THE most delightful group of fifty elders yesterday about my books. They meet monthly along the shore of Lake Superior north of Duluth. For the sake of anonymity, I’ll call them the “Pioneers.” I spoke in a church basement after their business meeting but before lunch. The rituals and small-town nature of the event made me feel like I was in an episode of the Red Green Show or Northern Exposure, which are some of my favorite television shows, so this was a good thing.

The meeting began with the pledge of allegiance. O.M.G. I haven’t said the pledge since grade school. I was surprised I still remembered it. Then came opening jokes. Several were shared, including a priest/rabbi joke and an Ole and Lena joke (a Minnesota favorite). The latter dealt with Lena reading “one of dem romance novels,” and the former dealt with “the pleasures of the flesh” – all of which provided perfect unintended lead-ins to my presentation.

But it wasn’t time for that yet. After introducing visitors (which was only me — introduced as a writer of “one of dem romance novels”) the meeting moved onto birthday announcements (complete with song), anniversaries, minutes of the last meeting, a moment of silence for the deceased, a treasurer’s report, and committee reports. At this point we learned which of the Pioneers were absent due to recent heart attacks. Much discussion ensued about next month’s picnic meeting and how to procure and handle the industrial-sized cans of baked beans.

The formal part of the meeting ended with a prize drawing. I don’t recall what the prize was because I was getting ready to talk, which induced momentary panic and a memory lapse, but I’m sure the prize was fabulous.

This was the first opportunity I’ve had to talk about both of my novels at the same time, so it was good practice. And I was surprised by how many Pioneers had heard about recent sightings of piping plovers on a local beach. (Plovers are the topic of my second novel.) The audience asked lots of questions. In the tradition of “Minnesota Nice,” we managed not to get into any fights over wolf management or the existence of climate change (other novel topics).

Afterwards, people were almost throwing their money at me to buy books – another good thing. We ate “a little lunch,” which consisted of finger foods like homemade pickled devil eggs, half sandwiches, and dessert bars. LOTS of bars.

The event was punctuated with much laughter and good humor. The structure reminded me of my family reunions, which are conducted every two years in central Minnesota. While we don’t have jokes or prizes or as much laughter, we do have ice cream, which makes up for a lot.

Although this glimpse of northern Minnesota social heaven was a privilege, I left the church feeling bittersweet. In our current era of online meetings and cyber conversations, I fear that social groups like the Pioneers are a dying tradition. Will the teenagers of today gather in church basements or town halls on a regular basis when they are senior citizens? Or will they invent some new form of support group? If they do, will it be as fun? More important, will they have bars?

Only time will tell.

In Broad Daylight

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Fishing Field Trip 2012 017 (2)I don’t like to admit this, but I yell at the TV sometimes — usually during newscasts when it comes to word usage (or over usage). You may remember my rant about shallow graves. My latest rant regards crimes committed “in broad daylight.”

It’s not that the news writers are using the term incorrectly. One of the less common definitions of “broad” is “open or full.” So to commit a crime in broad daylight means to commit a crime in full daylight.

What I object to is the value judgment surrounding the phrase. The newscasters say it as if crimes committed during the day are so much more serious or brazen than crimes committed in the dark of night. A hint of admiration tinges the announcer’s voice because goodness knows, all proper criminals wait until the cover of darkness to do their dastardly deeds. To commit a crime during the day goes against the rules and expectations of society. And it’s funny, but you never hear about crimes being committed in narrow daylight – like evenings or mornings. It’s either “under the cover of darkness” or “in broad daylight.”

Call me an old fuddy-duddy if you will, but to me, a crime is a crime, no matter what time of day it is committed. Crimes are not to be admired, even massive jewelry heists in broad daylight. They are assaults on businesses and persons. When crimes happen doesn’t matter as much as the fact that they happened at all.

I’d rather the news writers stopped making a big deal over when crimes occurred and paid more attention to the true impact of the offenses. But I suppose that’s too much to ask.

Okay. Latest rant over.

My First Blogger Award!

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liebster-award

I guess I have arrived. My blog got nominated for its first award by another blogger – the Liebster Award. Thank you Nimi, blogger for Simple Moments in Life!

One of the things I love about blogging is the opportunity to read personal stories from people living all over the world. Although Nimi lives in India, even U. S. readers might be surprised at how much they can relate to her world.

I remember enough college German to know that liebe is the German word for love. I assume a Liebster Award means a person loves the blog (or the blogger!) The process of this chain-mail-letter-like award is to answer questions posed by your nominator and then to nominate ten other bloggers for the award. The goal seems to be to increase readership for the nominee. Here goes with the questions:

  1. Define yourself in a sentence.

You would go and make the first question impossible, wouldn’t you? I’m much too complicated for definition in one sentence.

  1. Who’s your favorite author?

This question is impossible, too. I have several favorite authors and poets, and I read a wide range of books. My favorites include: Terry Tempest Williams, Diana Gabaldon, Margaret Atwood, Sigurd Olson, Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Louise Erdich, and myself. (Yes, I like my own books, too!)

  1. What kind of music do you like?

Again, I will give a plural answer, because I like several kinds: alternative rock, classic rock, classical, jazz, folk. Stop asking such hard questions!

  1. What gives you the greatest happiness?
    Oh shoot. Just kill me now, will you? No one thing gives me happiness. It’s a combination of things. And mostly what gives me happiness is giving other people happiness.
  2. What’s your dream holiday destination?

Lately I’ve been thinking about Bermuda and Scotland/Ireland. Maybe the Jersey Shore.

  1. To you, blogging is __________________

. . . Like publishing my own newspaper. I’m a journalist by training, so that appeals. It’s also an outlet for a different kind of writing than I am able to do during my day job as a science writer or my night job as an eco-mystic romance writer. Mostly, I blog just for fun and to share.

  1. Whom do you draw inspiration from?

Argh — there you go again! I get inspiration from more than one person – my friends, other authors and poets, my dog, nature. The trick is to be open to the inspiration.

  1. What’s your favorite snack?
    Ooooh, this one I can answer in the singular! Chocolate. Hands down. Oh, but it pairs well with wine. Okay, wine and chocolate. Sorry, two answers.
  2. Your all-time favorite movie?
    Okay – this one I can truly answer with one thing, no fooling or sneaking necessary: The Princess Bride.
  3. Two things about yourself that you love.
    What?! I just got used to answering with one example, now you want two! I would say I love my indomitable humor and my ability for compassion. Oh, but then there’s my creativity. Shoot. Sorry, that’s three.

I would like to nominate the following blogs for the Liebster Award:

Jennifer’s Journal https://jenniferkellandperry.wordpress.com/

Spiral Visions https://lisaspiral.wordpress.com/

I would nominate Writer in Soul, but she only accepts cash awards (Smile) https://writerinsoul.wordpress.com/

10 Years a Single Mom http://10yearsasinglemom.com/

Things my Ex Said http://thingsmyexsaid.com/ (although it has more followers than the Liebster rules allow, and so do some of the others I’ve listed, I’m sure.)

Travelling the World Solo https://wwellend.wordpress.com/

Joshi Daniel Photography http://joshidaniel.com/

Northern Visions Media https://northernvisionsmedia.wordpress.com/

Kwentokoto https://jehanforro.wordpress.com/

Notes from the Coulee https://bobnellis.wordpress.com/ (Although he hasn’t posted anything in a while. Get on it, Bob! You were my inspiration to begin blogging.)

I enjoy reading your blogs and seeing your photos, and look forward to more. There is no compulsion to accept if you have a no-award policy, or if you’ve already won this award from someone(s) else.

Here are my 10 questions for you:

  1. Why did you decide to start blogging?
  2. What gives you comfort?
  3. Do you have any pets?
  4. What’s a recent book you read that you liked and why?
  5. What’s your favorite meal?
  6. Does the current place you live in feel like home or is there someplace else that feels that way for you?
  7. Where do you find your inspiration?
  8. What makes you laugh?
  9. What haven’t you done in your life yet that you’d like to do?
  10. If you were a tree, what kind would you be?

Rules: Once you are nominated, make a post thanking and linking the person who nominated you. Include the Liebster Award sticker in the post, too.

Nominate 10 other bloggers who you feel are worthy of this award. Let them know they have been nominated by commenting on one of their posts. You can also nominate the person who nominated you.

Ensure all of these bloggers have less than 200 followers.

Answer the ten questions asked to you by the person who nominated you, and make ten questions of your own for your nominees.

Lastly, COPY these rules in the post.

ALL THE NOMINEES ARE FREE TO ACCEPT OR REJECT THE NOMINATION.

Yo, Dorcas!

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Some of my female ancestors.

Some of my female ancestors.

My ancestors had weird names. I was looking through a genealogy book for my mom’s side of the family recently, and came upon gems like “Experience.” Actually, there are several “Experience”s, and they were women who lived in the 1700s. Tell me, how can you make a nickname out of “Experience?” Spiery? Expy? It just doesn’t work. Maybe they didn’t use nicknames in the 1700s.

I know that names of virtuous traits were popular then – such as Prudence, Virtue, Hope, but Experience? Maybe it meant the opposite of Chastity? (Smirk)

Then there was Dorcas. And there are several of those poor women in my tree from the 1600s and 1700s. The name connotes whiffs of Dork and Doofus. I was so curious and disturbed by this name that I had to look up its meaning on several baby name websites.

One said: Dorcas — Derived from the Greek dorkas (gazelle). The name was borne by a Christian woman of Joppa who devoted herself to works of charity. She was raised from the dead by the Apostle Peter and converted many to Christianity.

Another said the name was used in America. The Aramaic version is “Tabitha” and that it means gazelle. In the bible, Dorcas was called Tabitha by the Jews.

Personally, I like Tabitha better, too.

With names like Ephraim, Menzies and Ruben, my male ancestors didn’t fare much better. There’s even an Ebenezer.

I suppose in the far future, should I be so lucky to still have descendants, they can laugh at my name, Marie. The urban dictionary (my favorite dictionary!) says it’s the French version of Mary. It’s a universal middle name. Also that it’s “the name for that irresistibly mysterious girl whom you see around often, yet know nothing about. An outrageously cute spontaneous person. Lovable, extremely intelligent, and slightly eccentric. Often resembling a nymph of sorts. Beautiful and trustworthy.”

Yeah, a nymph. That’s me! Actually, my mother told me I was named after a Catholic nun who took care of her when she was in the hospital having me. Sister Marie later left the order. Maybe because she was such a nymph.