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Zoomin’ Through the Pages

What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without reading a book (since learning how to read, of course)? Which book was it that helped break the dry spell? 

Reading for enjoyment has sometimes been overtaken by reading for necessity.

Work, school, and church all have regular reading requirements. In one’s life, there is only so much time to read.

For me, the reading dry spell was not brought on by time constraints. It was my body.
I had to break down and admit that aging is catching up with me.

For the first time in my life, I truly need reading glasses.
After getting them fitted, I was astonished at how much easier reading became for me once again.
Before, I had been experiencing tired eyes, difficulty focusing on text in low light, and was generally uncomfortable reading for extended periods.

Now I apply the speed reading technique learned in high school so many years ago and voraciously consume books once again.
300 pages in just a few hours? No problem.
Download some more eBooks and keep going.
Discover new authors and blaze through their entire series in a week? Absolutely.

Start blogging and experience a whole new world of writers? Awesome!
The range of styles, voices, interests, and artistic expression available through the WordPress community amazes me.
Fellow bloggers are great! (click…read, click…read, click…read,…)

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Verbal Jousting Needs How Many?

A lively group discussion, an intimate tête-à-tête, an inner monologue — in your view, when it comes to a good conversation, what’s the ideal number of people? 

The Canadian Mounted Police have a saying, “One mob, one Mountie, even odds.”

That’s how it is when I’m involved in a lively group discussion. I can work the crowd into a laughing frenzy or a hostile debate, sometimes both if the mood strikes me just right. How many people are too much depends upon the topic. Some rough guidelines to follow are provided here for your consideration.

Sex? Just the two of you.

Bodily functions? Up to three. Shouting for toilet paper to be brought to you is allowed in a family setting.

Health issues? There appears to be no limit to the size of the audience on this one. Stand in line at the grocery store and listen to the seniors describe their ailments in detail to anyone in listening range.

Politics/Religion? It’s an international stage where no one convinces very many to change their minds. Best avoided.

Sports? It varies with the particulars and the gender of the competitors and spectators.

How did curling end up in the Olympics? Those people are considered athletes worthy of competing at the highest level? Come on! It’s ice bowling without pins or beer!

American football? Whatever. Less than one hour of actual play continually interrupted by group planning sessions. “What should we do next? Hey, I know. Let’s try to get past them and move the ball further down the field. If we’re lucky, we can make it all the way and then do it again.”

I could go on, but my wife is standing near me watching me write this. I think she wants to talk to me.

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I Know Every Word

Time to confess: tell us about a time when you used a word whose meaning you didn’t actually know (or were very wrong about, in retrospect).

For those of you that have browsed my About page, you’ve seen this. The ability to string big words together comes naturally. It stems from a competitive sibling environment where puns reigned supreme and verbal Judo was the norm.

If I don’t know it, I can fake it with confidence. Most people will not admit their own ignorance and back down from a challenge. I know from experience that you can be the smartest person in the room by just a little bit, and that is enough. No one needs to know if the difference is measured in millimeters or kilometers. Being ahead by any distance is sufficient to win.

I’m not pompous, just brilliant. Observe:

Allow me to pontificate in erudite terminology to demonstrate my lexical superiority for those fortunate enough to be beneficiaries of my intellectual creations. This summary provides a glimpse into the cerebral prominence available to my audience.

Readers will benefit from the enormity of my ability to transform meager communications into radiant examples of obfuscation that frustrate lesser individuals from penetrating their true meaning. The conversion from clear language into elevated phrases only graspable by the scarce initiated provides a filter that inhibits scrutiny and creates collaborative barriers to the market space.

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The Electric Snowflake (Part 3)

The Electric Snowflake shot through the sky like a bottle rocket. This was fun! Who else could circle the globe in an instant then stop on a dime? He dove recklessly to the world below, spinning wildly out of control completely without fear. Within inches of the ground, he stopped. He looked around and began to drift lazily over a small ridge. As he surveyed the landscape, he wondered what it would be like to touch down and stand in the grass wiggling his toes.

“NO!” he told himself.

That was the one rule above all others that he must obey. Never touch the ground. To do so would mean instant death to him and the slow death of his people above and the world below.

Other than that, he had it pretty good. His purpose was to trigger the snowstorms of the world. Only he could do it. He traveled all over the planet at breakneck speed to cause the gentle falling of white, puffy flakes on open meadows. He screamed to the mountains to inspire the mighty blizzards that whipped the craggy peaks. He cruised slowly to roaming countryside hills and sparked the dry, crusty snows that blew and drifted high.

It was a good post. One he took seriously and enjoyed. He was caring in his approach to his job. He took the time to survey the land before he buried it under a blanket of white. He made each storm fit the need.

He took time to meet with the Snowflake Squadron Leaders and mingle with the troops. He made sure they knew their assignments and boosted morale in the process. They were giving their lives so the world below could live. On his command, they swarmed from the clouds. Swirling and drifting with fervent abandon intent upon completing the mission. Occasionally, he dove with them. He directed, encouraged, and shared in the pride of the job.

Yet always, he remained alone. It was not all fun and games being solely responsible for the snowfall of an entire planet. After diving with a squadron and sharing their enthusiasm, he always felt let down. None of the folks he met could ever understand how lonely it was to be unique. He missed his childhood friends. Occasionally, he wondered what happened to this boy or that girl. All it did was make him sad.

It was during one of these dives that he saw HER. Out of the millions of flakes he’d met, she caught his eye. It was a gentle flurry over a sleepy little town scattered among the hills. She led a team to coat a barn roof. He glided to her and watched her blush at his approach.

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Can’t Get There From Here

Think about the town where you currently live: its local customs, traditions, and hangouts, its slang. What would be the strangest thing about this place for a first-time visitor? 

“Take a left.” he said.

“That won’t get us there.” she replied.

“Sure it will.” he stated. “Our destination is directly over there. Taking a left here and a right at the first intersection should get us right where we want to be.”

“No it won’t.” she answered coolly. “There is no cross street that will connect us from here to there if you take a left here.”

“Just do it. I know this will work. I’ve got a great sense of direction.” he insisted.

“It’s not going to work. We’re going to be late.” she remarked.

“I knew I should be driving.” he snipped. “Why did I let you have the keys?”

She turned left and drove up the street. They went all the way to the end, stopping at the water’s edge.

“See?” she asked, “It’s a peninsula surrounded by water on three sides. They didn’t build any connecting bridges or roads out of this neighborhood.”

He looked across the water at their destination only a short span away. It should have worked. It was right THERE!

They would have to backtrack now and take the next street over to drive up the next peninsula.

“How did you know?” he asked her in a subdued voice.

She paused and blushed slightly before answering, “I tried that last week when I came over here the first time.”

“This is a stupid place to live.” he said.

 

 

 

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My Biggest Day Preparations

It’s the night before an important event: a big exam, a major presentation, your wedding. How do you calm your nerves in preparation for the big day? 

18 hours to go. I’m sleeping just fine.

It’s August 1 and the New England summer is at its peak heat today. I’ve left final wedding preparations until this morning. What’s the rush? The wedding isn’t until this evening. Plenty of time to drive into the big city and pick up my tuxedo.

Considering that I was across the continent just a few days ago without a plane ticket or any money to buy one, picking up a fancy rented suit today is minor. I have no other preparation wedding duties. I’m sure the bride and bridesmaids have much to do. Hair, makeup, final clothing adjustments, and pre-wedding pictures are on their agenda.

I get up and have an unremarkable breakfast. It’s so average, I don’t remember it 27 years later. I’m staying with my parents until tonight. This isn’t the house I grew up in. That was sold and demolished in the past two years to make way for a new subdivision while I was away.

I have no emotional attachment to this place. The house is unfamiliar and strange to me. I don’t know it’s creaks and quirks. In the old house, we could prank whoever was in the shower by turning on a hot water faucet elsewhere and it would diminish the flow leaving them suddenly cold. The startled shouts of a shocked brother was always good for a laugh. I don’t know how it works in this place.

My eldest brother is also my best man today. He is driving me to the city for the tux later this morning. The store opens at 10 am. 45 minutes to drive there, 30 minutes in the store, 45 minutes back. That will kill a couple of hours. Only 8 more to go.

“Let’s go bowling ,” I say after we get back from the tuxedo store.

Not because I’m thrilled about bowling. It’s just an idea to kill a few more hours. We drive to the local alley, go in, but can’t bowl. They’re waxing the lanes in the mid-afternoon lull.

“What now?” my brother asks.

“I don’t know. There’s not enough time to see a movie. We’d be late then. How about we go to the arcade and waste some coins?” I reply.

“Whatever you want. It’s your wedding day.” he answers.

We go and spend almost 90 minutes playing most of the games. He looks at his watch and says we should drive home and get dressed for the wedding. Plenty of time.

Why did we agree on an evening wedding?

 

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The Electric Snowflake (Part 2)

The boy who would be the next Electric Snowflake was quite unaware of the council and its decision. He played a game of Shards & Sparkles in the Ice Crystal Garden with his friends. It was a close one and just as his turn began, a guard came up and blocked his light, causing him to score poorly. He turned to protest as his friends laughed but the guard cut him off by informing him that his father, the king, wished to see him – AT ONCE. Castell knew from the man’s tone that it was something very serious. He dropped the icicle baton from his hand and ran to his father’s chambers.

When Castell arrived, he saw his father looking sadly at a freeze-frame of his mother. He hesitated for a moment not wishing to intrude upon his father’s privacy. The guard at the doorway coughed twice before announcing Castell’s arrival to the king in a soft tone. His father put the freeze-frame back on the shelf and caressed it lovingly before turning to greet his son. His father informed him of the council’s agreement with the choice of the next Electric Snowflake.

Castell sat down hard on the polished frozen floor in shock. It was a childhood fantasy come true. The Electric Snowflake was the greatest hero in the eyes of all citizens of the cold regions. He alone controlled the snowfall for the world below. He could travel at incredible speeds and coordinate snowstorms in dozens of places at one time. The sight of a shining blue spark racing though the sky inspired cheers from everyone in sight. It was unbelievable that he, Castell, would be the object of such adoration. The thought thrilled him beyond comprehension.

His father brought him back to reality with the next few statements. The Electric Snowflake could never marry, have children, or even fall in love. It was believed such actions could weaken his power to the point where he may not be able to perform the duties of the appointment. There was no other suitable replacement anywhere in existence. If anything should happen to him, the fate of both their worlds could be at stake.

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SPAM in my Blog – Status Update

Just had to share a status update.

The previous blog posting was a response to the daily prompt and a timely release of frustration at spammers knocking at my comments door.

I copied and pasted actual content from a nine page spam message caught in my comments filter. Since that posting, there have been 37 additional (and counting) attempted comment postings to that post from other spammers.

  • The addresses are clearly to sites trolling for sales or random hits.
  • The message text matches the phrasing and patterns of the original message. I suppose multiple spammers are using the same software to generate their messages.
  • The hits are snagging on that post like flies to honey.
  • I used no tags on the post, but there appears to have been so many keywords in it that bots are finding it with regularity.

Amazing.

 

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Never met a food I didn’t like (almost)

Are you a picky eater? Share some of your favorite food quirks with us (the more exotic, the better!). Omnivores: what’s the one thing you won’t eat?

I confess. I’m Phil from yesterday’s post. (See Buffet Challenge).

Not that I’ve spent as many hours at a buffet as he did, or consumed as many plates in one sitting. I mean that I used to eat piles of food at the buffet to get my money’s worth. A friend of mine was a hungry college student who used to drink water all day to keep his stomach stretched and then eat at a buffet each night. I never went that far but I haven’t missed many meals in my life and it shows.

I’m in shape. Pear shaped.

I’m in shape. Round is a shape.

I’ve got a beach body. Whatever shape my body is in, that’s what you get at the beach. If my belly is shaped like a beach ball, grand.

I’ve got Dunlop disease. My belly “done lopped” over my belt.

Vegetables? Love them. Deep fried in butter and dipped in cheese.

Fruits? Fantastic. On top of waffles, in pies, and with ice cream.

Meat? Awesome! Animals are so tasty. All varieties. Young or old. White or red. Seared, blackened, smoked, fried, and sauteed are just fine.

My enjoyment of food could come from the competitive sibling environment of my childhood.

See also It Wasn’t Me from August 16 for an example.

This morning’s post is making me hungry. Time for breakfast.

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Buffet Challenge

The sign on the door read “All you can eat 9.95, Crab Legs extra”

Phil sat in a stupor. He’d been there for three hours already. Fourteen plates had come and gone. Now he wondered if getting crab legs would be worth the extra charge.

Other restaurant patrons either glanced his way and shook their heads or openly stared at him in horror. The front of his shirt was stained with grease drippings, flecks of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, apple pie, ice cream, and several unidentifiable spots. The trend was generally downward. Bits of food left their marks or clung to his clothing if they escaped his mouth at all.

The hostess glared at him. She had asked him to leave after the first hour. Then again after 90 minutes, two hours, and each 15 minute interval after that. She was tired of arguing with him. Phil stubbornly refused to leave until he felt he’d gotten his full measure of the buffet.

By all reasonable standards, he’d achieved that in the first 35 minutes. Five trips to the food bar, each resulting in a mound of food as high as the plate was round. The cooks in the back restocked the steamy bins after each of his forays. They shot pathetic glances his way as they trundled hot containers to the line.

Phil stifled a belch and stood up. All eyes in the place watched him as he leaned on the table for a moment, steadying himself. He turned and slowly walked to the restroom, planning on making room for more.