Rachel Ray

Is there anything this woman won't sell? Discuss.

"Guys? Where are the Ritz?"

"America runs on Dunkin'"

"(I forget her line from the BK ads)"

Are there any others I missed?

Four-and-twenty blackberries? or BlackBerrys?

I really do get gleeful about looking up some grammar rule and finding an answer. When I was younger and newer to the profession, I’d get freaked out if I came up against something I didn’t know – especially if a boss or client corrected me. Now, I actually enjoy it. Because I know no one has 100% mastery of the wacky English language (and anyone who pretends they do is a great big Grammar Meanie - thank you June Casagrande) and I also know that in my many volumes of reference books or somewhere online – someone has already posed and answered the same question I have right at that moment.

Let me illustrate: Recently, I was wondering how one might create a plural of the word BlackBerry – not the fruit, the sexy PDA. Of course Strunk and White haven’t yet made a decision on that, but I actually found several online discussions on the topic and even a “ruling” in one of my reference books about pluralizing proper nouns ending in ‘y.’

In case you care, I went with BlackBerrys so as not to dilute the brand. And I really can’t properly express here how happy I was as I set out to find the answer and how equally happy I was to discover an answer that I felt confident I could explain and defend, if necessary (of course no one challenged me, but I was ready).

P.S. Please don't post comments telling me it's blackbirds. I know. It was a joke.

Word Girl Geek Love

I didn't plan to fall in love. I didn't want to fall in love. It's not at all what I thought I'd want in life, but now that it's here, I must have it. The next $400 I make is going to buy me a Kindle!

Gobble, Gobble.

As if Americans needed an excuse to eat in excess.

But I’m not really a grouch about this holiday. I just wish I could be a part of a celebration that really was about giving thanks for the abundance we enjoy here in this country. What would that celebration look like? I’m not sure but I think it would involve a lot less gluttony and a lot more selfless acts.

Yellow

I actually scribbled this in mid-October, but never had a moment to post. Just a little vignette of autumn in NJ.

Recently, I was pushing one of my nephews on a swing. At one point, he tossed his head back - the way kids do on swings - to watch the sky slide by, back and forth. His eyes caught the tops of the tall trees that separate grandma’s yard from the neighboring farm, where the corn stalks stood softly, dried-out and ready to be cut down.

“I see colors,” he shouted excitedly. I looked up and, sure enough, the tippy-tops of the trees were turning. It was as if a painter’s brush had gently dabbed the edges of the trees with new colors to cover the summer green.

“What colors do you see?” I asked. A chorus of voices erupted as the other nephews and nieces (who I didn’t even know were paying us any attention) chimed in: “I see red!” “I see orange!” “I see green!” “I see yellow!”

The swinging boy replied, “I don’t see any yellow! Where do you see yellow?”

Later, on the driveway, we started taking inventory of the fallen leaves, sorting them by colors as you sometimes do with a bag of M&Ms.

“See? There’s yellow,” one instructed the other. And of course, everyone had to agree there was indeed yellow in the mix.

Today it’s raining leaves outside. It is a miracle of beauty that I cannot imagine living without.

No, not dead.

Just adjusting to a new professional lifestyle. Work had been a little thin for a little longer than I was happy about in early October, so I raised the “Carole is for hire” flag. Ended up with a PT gig that was suppose to go FT in January, but has suddenly become FT, like, now-ish.

The most relevant news for this blog is, of course, that I will still be working out of the BDO. Viva les fenêtres ouvertes!!! (don't ask me to actually say that... just bable fish-ed it)

Strategies to combat mental malaise

Reminder to self:

When the brain begins to stiffen
Like a muscle too rarely flexed
And thoughts flow all too slowly
As if they have been hexed

There are some things that I can do
To make the synapses spark
I’ll compile the list right here, right now
And note it with a bookmark.

The following things usually help clear blocks:

* Read (language reference books, fun blogs, Luke Sullivan)

* Look at photos (especially of kids)

* Relocate to a new venue (outside is pretty much always best)

* Observe or immerse yourself in nature (see note above)

* Color (with Crayola products of course)

* Add music to the work place (jazz, groovy 70s, or Euro-dance depending on the work/client)

* Attempt poetry

(feel free to add to the list)

I guess I should explain that.

Confession: I am a cabbage lover. Steamed, stuffed leaves; shredded in slaw (not too runny); pickled in a jar; fermented as kraut. Even raw, finely shredded in a salad, is nice. One of my all-time favorite dishes is Halushki: fried noodles, onion and cabbage (a Polish Christmas Eve dinner specialty).

The last day of the Farmers Market in town was September 28. It’s a very small market – only about 10 stalls in a little parking lot near the main intersection. I can walk to it, which makes me feel very European. I bring a cheap, bright-red messenger-style bag I got as a freebie from a volunteer dinner, and load it up with all sorts of fabulously fresh stuff.

On the 28th, one of the vendors had Brussels sprouts. Two weeks earlier, I got a lovely head of cabbage from the same vendor. Because it’s all so fresh is lasts much longer than grocery store produce. So I’ve been enjoying it right up until this past Sunday when I said farewell to mes petit choux.

Some of the sprouts were a little big, so before steaming them for dinner the other night, I sliced them in half and the graduation of color from the white core, to the young yellow leaves, and finally the grown-up green leaves is so smooth you can scarcely see the change. A nice little cabbage (or big) is a very pretty thing. Yes pretty. Take some time to admire the cabbages my friends.

Ode to a cabbage cross-section

(An homage in haiku)

Grow from white to green
Delicate core, gentle leaves
In my tummy grief

Overheard in the BDO

Because I have been so remiss about posting I thought perhaps I should post a digest of all that has happened in the past week.

But then I realized how boring that would be and decided instead to post a collection of random comments typed, spoken or otherwise noted in and around the BDO. Piece it together however you like and create your very own story about what's been happening here! (This is sort of like magnetic poetry. Only it’s not magnetic and it’s not poetry. Discuss.)

“This data is not usable.”
“I’m not ignoring you.”
“We are almost to the finish line on this one…”
“Why don't you run for president?”
“I don't usually pimp my friends and colleagues”
“THIS IS A WARNING MESSAGE ONLY”
“You never know what might happen.”
“tub full of angry cats”
“Gack!”
“I’ll need a drink after the Brownie meeting.”
“I cannot locate my Fruitcake catalog.”
“Unfortunately, we have decided that we are not going to fill this position at this time.”

I have withheld attribution to protect the innocent, but I will confess two of these were composed on my keyboard. And, as a side note, "Gack!" - as in "oh my gosh" or "oh my goodness" - is my new favorite word (thanks Jenn)(Oops. I just leaked some attribution.)

A real headline published in the local paper

"Gas-guzzlers vehicles to economy cars is a long ways away"

I'm not even kidding.

Discuss.

(I'm not even sure I know what they were TRYING to express.)

Something to do when you're not reading my blog

Read other blogs!

Two new blogs to which I've becoming slightly addicted:

Epi Log on the Epicurious web site is fun, funny, and frequently features fabulous food. (Can you even stand it?)

The Boy Genius Report appeals to the geek wannabe that lurks just below the surface here at the BDO. (Special thanks to my pal Renee who pointed me to this site.)

Boycott Charmin!!

I’m calling for a boycott of Charmin toilet tissue until they fire the agency that created those stupid bear commercials and pull them from the air. Who’s with me?

I hardly watch TV and yet it seems I cannot escape these commercials! Bears running to port-a-pottys on the beach; bears brushing remnants of toilet tissue off their butts (do any humans actually have this problem?); bears with overly expressive faces as the voice over guy gently talks about unpleasant butt-related, toilet-related topics. YUK!

But what is most disturbing is when I picture some creative group excitedly brainstorming these ideas, then presenting them to executives who smile and say, “YES! YES! That’s perfect! Let’s use cartoon bears with intestinal distress to sell our product!!”

It’s ridiculous! I work far too hard creating intelligent, decent ad copy to tolerate this crap. (Pun not intended, but pleasing none-the-less.)

Seriously?

Message to Burmese Government: How can you not know you are on the wrong side of an argument when you are fighting Buddhist monks?

I promised I would avoid getting political on this blog so that's all I'm going to say about that.

Except maybe this too: It's really too bad there's no oil in Burma. (If there was, perhaps our current administration might be moved to head over there and support the MONKS using pacifism to fight for democracy. 'Cause that's why we're in Iraq, right? Because we were really, really upset about the lack of freedom and rights, right?).

"Because you're hot."

Best tag line ever.

For Secret. (Remember? "Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman." This is MUCH better.)

I just saw this on an ad and it makes me want to change brands so badly. Because I want to be HOT! The whole look of it is also very appealing - a frilly, floral, sophisticated line-art style thing.

It's the kind of line that makes writers smile and then quickly grimace with a sigh, "wish I'd written that."

Iced Tea Time?

Iced tea is one of my all-time favorite beverages. When I am out, I usually order it unsweetened, and then the add sugar myself, along with a squeeze of lemon.

“Sweet Tea,” made lovingly by proper Southern Ladies and Gentlemen, is usually a little too sweet for my tongue, but I’ll drink it when offered, to be polite.

A few years ago Lipton came out with “Cold Brew” tea bags and that is the only kind I make at home now. For my pallet, a two-quart pitcher takes about ¼ cup sugar and sometimes I’ll also add a little less than a ¼ cup of either Country Time lemonade mix or Tang.

Yesterday I had lunch out and ordered iced tea. I came home inspired to make a pitcher, but I was in a quandary about it – is it too late? It's nearly October and something about making iced tea felt… wrong. Like wearing white after Labor Day. No, different than that, but still, wrong. Is it wrong? Does iced tea have a season or at least an outside temperature range? It's in the 70s (was in the 80s yesterday). I can drink iced tea, right?

Does anyone add milk to their iced tea? I’ve never seen that. Iced coffee usually has milk, but not iced tea. Wonder why.

This all reminds me of a song by The Cowboy Junkies called “Cold Tea Blues.”

If I pour your cup, that is manners.
If I add your milk, that is friendship.
If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste, that is tea.
But if I measure the sugar to satisfy your expectant tongue, then that is love.
(Sitting untouched and growing cold.)

And thus the difference between ICED tea and COLD tea.

Survey says...

Since about 60% of my known readership has responded, I figured I could post a follow-up today.

My estimate was near DB’s. I think only 3% of people in big corporate machines are actually thinking about the customer.

In my experience (four companies in about ten years – two XL, one M, one XS), it was a rare moment when I would be in a room with people excited to work on something – I mean REALLY work – sleeves rolled up, sweat dripping, sleep deprivation, poor nutrition, etc. In that ten years, I think it happened about 3% of the time, with 3% of the people.

I love that Jenn and Jodee believe in people and have experienced something different. Hope lives.

Anonymous Waffle House Person is far too early in his "career" to chime in on this (one summer internship does not a career make).

Regarding DB’s question about what is the “right” answer: My problem is that I am so manic that of course I want 100% of the people to be focused on doing what’s right for the customer 100% of the time. Anything less disappoints. That’s why I am SO well-suited to the independent life. Here in the BDO that’s an easy goal to achieve.

Survey question

What percentage of people in a company are more focused on their own personal career path than on the ultimate good of the consumer/customer?

I’ve had this discussion twice in the past week. Needless to say, cynic that I am, I think most people in a company are so worried about where they are going next, they forget to do the work at hand. And in many ways, the work at hand is irrelevant to them, because before any project reaches fruition, they’ll be on to the next post. “Impossible,” you say. “They have to have some sort of results to prove they can do the job!” Sadly no, because the people who should be paying attention to these sorts of things are also firmly fixed on their next roles so they will pass along any fool who expresses interest.

This is yet another reason why I’d rather not ever go back. This and the windows thing.

I won’t reveal my guess at the percentage until a few others chime in. I don’t have many readers, so not sure if that will even happen (but if it doesn’t then I don’t need to reveal my estimate). Of the two people I discussed this with, one is in a corporation and one is independent, like me. Actually they both agreed that most are mis-focused, but we disagree on how dire the situation is (based on the percentages we assign to each group).

Buildings with windows that don't open

If I was forced to go back to a traditional employment situation, the thing I would miss most would be fresh air. I suspect it’s not just me. Today I had to drive a proof over to someone’s office. It was around lunch time and I had to maneuver my vehicle very carefully through the parking lot to avoid mowing down the many small clusters of employees walking outside. They were all decked out in their office-casual best with little ID badges hanging from breast pockets and waistbands.

I know it’s more expensive to make building with windows that open, but I think it’s just depressing to be inside on a glorious weather day without the opportunity to have the outside creep in near you just a bit. Even the noises are probably beneficial on some level. I’ve referenced before in this blog that I am a few blocks from a local elementary school and I can actually hear the kids outside playing during recess. That has to be on a top-ten list of the most inspiring and energizing sounds (teachers may disagree with me there).

It was very chilly this morning. But by mid-day is was mild and lovely and I opened the window and the fresh September air slipped in and said to me quietly, “get to work!” It was great. I remember life without it and it stinks. Stinks of inside air.

That's my hair there

It looks....unpleasant, doesn't it? Like a severed limb or some creepy worm/snake thing. In another picture, it actually looks like a slug, with a smear of wetness off its tail.

I double checked, because so many people have asked, and I believe it was Fall of 2002 when I last wore my hair "short." I've been growing it out for nearly five years. Figuring that out actually disappoints me a bit, because I would have though five years would yield Rapunzel-like growth, which this hardly is. Barely hit the ten-inch mark.

Samson was wrong I think, for I feel no weaker than usual. But then again, I was no Samson to begin with, so maybe it's proportional.

Word rapture

This may be an obvious revelation given my profession, but I love words. Especially really well put-together words. Clustered into perfectly formed thoughts, written down as well-structured sentences. It’s nice when I’m the creator (rare), but even when I am not, it’s a joy to witness the phenomenon.

Today’s word rapture is brought to you by this line: “…a swirling sea of big flakes only just darker than the sky and only just lighter than the ground.” A flawless description of snow falling. It’s in chapter 13 of The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman.

We’re a bit away from that snowy time of year still. I get almost as giddy about snow as I do about tomatoes. Something to look forward to, eh?

Beginning the world

School started in the boro today. Very exciting business! Outside my window I heard the happy sounds of the elementary students eagerly rushing off to their first days of school. The crossing guard on our corner is just the best. I heard her yell at least two dozen times, "Have a great first day!" And she meant it. You could tell.

(Later in the day, out this same window, I heard the familiar, albeit less pleasant, sounds of the older kids walking home from the high school... angry screaming, expletives, general rudeness. Fascinating creatures those teenagers. Nice to know they evolve. Mostly.)

A few lines from the song "Beginning the World" by the Innocence Mission were going through my head all day. They always do this time of year.

"Aren't you bursting with butterflies
on the fourth of September?
Like you'll have to get on the bus
in your tartan dress, with your lunch box.

Though your body is twenty-nine.
Though your mind is an old thing.
I mean, don't you ever ... sigh,

I am always beginning the world, beginning the world."

Yes, Karen Peris, I do get those butterflies, though my body is well past twenty-nine and my mind is a very old thing. (Sigh.)

What’s bugging me

I get freaked out by bugs landing on me. Near me is not a problem. On me is a problem. A very large moth landed on me while I was peacefully reading in bed Sunday night. It was so large that as it approached I heard its wings flapping and when it hit, I felt a little bump. I shrieked a girly shriek and then insisted that it must die. (I’m not normally violent.) Sadly – or humorously, depending on your distance from the event - the moth escaped the vortex of the flushing toilet and returned for another circle around the bedroom before meeting his final demise.

Yesterday I shrieked a much shorter girly shriek and then laughed when I spotted a praying mantis on the deck. The shriek was because I was reaching for something on the railing of the deck and as my eyes turned to follow where my hand was already going, I saw that I was about to inadvertently grab the mantis. The laugh was at myself for being startled. I took a picture. I think they are so neat looking.


praying mantis (looking at me), September 2007

THEN, as if all these close-encounters of the buggy kind weren’t enough, last night at dinner a friend was telling us about all these ‘cicada-killer wasps’ he has in his yard. As the name implies, they kill cicadas, which are pretty prevalent around here right now. As our friend was describing the wasp, we realized we had seen one in our garage around July 4th. They are HUGE; Wikipedia says they can be up to 2 inches long and the one we saw was most certainly that large. I took a picture back then too. Creepy.


cicada-killer wasp in garage, July 2007

(Note the hyphenation of "cicada-killer wasp" is mine. It's not like that in any references I found, but since the two concepts form one thought, I think it's an important hyphen. It's not a cicada wasp or a killer wasp; It's a wasp that kills cicadas. Without the hyphen one might think it's a "killer wasp" - like a "killer bee" - which it is not. They aren't really dangerous to humans unless you grab, step on, or otherwise man-handle a female. And even then, you wouldn't die. I think I'm channeling Lynne Truss or something.)

I have butter ... and I’m not afraid to use it.

If I ever write a cookbook, that's what I will title it.

I thought of that line as I slapped a tablespoon of the fine, fatty dairy product in a pan last night. Sometimes a recipe says you must use margarine and I know it has different properties and whatnot, but when given the option, I will always choose butter.

Semi-related thought: My cookbook would probably have a whole chapter – maybe even a section – dedicated to why I think cheese should be its own food group. I’d find a way to include that great quote from Charles de Gaulle, “How can anyone govern a nation that has 246 different kinds of cheese?”

A noticeable panty line

Quote of the week from the BDO: “Cool. I really liked that panty line.”

There was this ad series. The style was very irreverent and over-stated. One of the concepts for which I was to write copy was the “We’re that good” concept. The visual was a black and white image of young girls, circa 1959/60, overcome by emotion at the sight of some teen pop sensation. The copy I wrote ended with the line, “But please, don’t throw your panties at our reception desk. It gets a little awkward.”

When it seemed as if this particular ad was not going to be part the series, I inquired as to its status. When I was told that, yes, indeed it will be included, but just hasn’t yet, I replied, “Cool. I really liked that panty line.”


(And props please, for refraining from posting about tomatoes again today.)

Tomania

This has been the lunch special at the BDO cafe for the last two weeks.

Little cheese, little salt and pepper, little olive oil and red wine vinegar, some basil. This particular plate was prepared for the purposes of pre-dinner snacking (for two) while we waited for the rest of dinner to be ready.

Jersey Fresh Freakshow

We grew a tomato with a NOSE!!



I know I need to stop with all the tomato stuff. But it's sort of my thing. I can't help myself.

Jersey Fresh, Part III

A-canning we will go. A-canning we will go. Hi-ho the dairy-o a canning we will go.



Why is it called "canning" when you actually put things in jars?

I don't have a real canner, just a big pot with a cookie rack in the bottom. I can only fit four pint jars at a time in it, so I don't do Amish-sized quantities of preserving.

But it's late August and the plants are heavy with delicious ripe fruit. I eat a few each week, give a few away to dear neighbors and friends, and then I still have about 7 lbs of tomatoes left (from only four plants). I canned about 6 lbs last night. The rest are in the fridge (skinned and ready for the jar or some other cooking purpose).

This is what they looked like fresh off the vine. Aren't they SOOOO pretty?!?!

And while we're on the subject, this is my new favorite T-shirt:

Clever Spam Trends

I feel compelled to give spammers some props. They are so darn clever in their attempts to get us to open their messages and click. Reviewing just a few of them reveals some decent logic.

The Love Note Trend
Perhaps the Queen Mother of all spam trends, this one unleashed the legendary “I love you” virus on the Internet. All predicated on the fact that very few of us could resist someone telling us we are loved - even if we didn’t recognize the name and/or email address. How sad and needy we all are. How smart the spammers are to know this and prey upon it.

The E-greeting Trend
This is a recent trend and much like the Love Note messages, this one also preys upon our needy nature. Who isn’t thrilled to see that someone has sent us an e-postcard or other greeting, especially with tantalizing attribution like, “A worshipper has sent you an e-card” or “A loved one has sent…” The recipient feels special and instant anticipation of a pleasant surprise could lead to a click.

The Important Attachment Trend
Another current spam trend. A particularly smart component of this piece is that there is no body copy to give away its bogus nature. All you have to go on is the subject line, return address and the attached file name. In the past week or so I received one that had either a subject line or file attachment named “check.” Fascinatingly, I was in the midst of trying to track down late payment from a client and for ¾ of a second I actually thought, “Oh look. They emailed me an image of the check to prove that it's on the way!”

The “Thanks for Registering” Trend
This one is new. Just started a few days ago for me. The email appears to be a confirmation that you are now a registered member of some site. Again the psychological ploy is sort of brilliant – who doesn’t want to be included in exclusive membership. You think, “Oh how exciting. I don’t remember registering here, and maybe it’s an accident and now I’m IN!”


Wonder who comes up with these ideas. Probably someone not entirely unlike those in my field – marketing/PR/communications types. Don’t we do the same thing? Figure out how to manipulate readers into a desired response using only words and images? Hmmmm. Wonder how that work pays?

Rounding 39, headin' toward 40.

Yes. 'Tis the anniversary of dear William's birth.

His notable birthday quote:

"Coldest birthday. Ever."

(High was only 60-something today.)

I have a friend who refers to Will as my "favorite subject." As in, "And How's your favorite subject doing these days?" I used to think it was a polite way around having to remember his name, but this is the same guy who refers to his wife as "Lady Catherine" so probably not. He's, you know, one of those exceptionally smart, literary types (a writer friend of course).

I don't know if Will is my favorite subject. Honestly, I think I am my favorite subject. But Will's a good topic too. Heck, I just devoted an entire Blog entry to him (and yet, not really). Oh whatever!

Happy Birthday to Will. Happy Birthday to Will. Happy Birthday dear William. Happy Birthday to Will.

Grey Days

100% chance of rain tomorrow. It was 90% today and it rained most of the day. Raining now in fact. But worse than the rain was the cloudy grey sky, which seemed to sink down all around me like a damp, heavy coat, weighing me down, making it impossible to move.

The good news is that after tomorrow the ten-day forecast shows a few "isolated" and "scattered" bits of rain, but not the definitive, un-adorned "rain" that is promised tomorrow. It's just so finite and certain-looking. As if there is no escape.

I hold nothing against the rain or grey skies themselves; the gentle drops can be a comforting sound against my house and cloudy skies have a soft, somber beauty to them. The problem is what it all does to me. My brain feels mired in molasses. I can't get thoughts moving with any sort of momentum. The writing is slow and... frankly... not very good. I labor to push out a few meager words, and then, looking at them on the page, I grimace with disgust. Yuk. My work is yuk when the weather is like this.

With a whole day of it behind me I face another. Maybe I need one of those little fake-sun lamps? More caffeine? More water? Vitamin B? A cleaner desk? A new note pad? Yes. I will try all these things. The grey day will not win!

Aside: Happy Will's Eve!

New Mops (OR what has my life come to?)

My sister and I were recently talking about this tendency we both have toward excessive and illogical frugality. It’s great to get things on sale or to buy a store brand when it’s just as good as the name brand and costs a few cents less. But sometimes I buy something that’s cheaper, just because it’s cheaper. The example du jour is mops.

My whole adult life I have purchased store-brand sponge mops. And I hate them. The sponge itself crumbles into a useless mat of semi-absorbent goo after just one use and it quickly becomes permanently stained with the dirt and grime recovered on its first glorious trip around a floor. And then, like an idiot, I continue to use it – with miserable results – until I get fed up and stupidly buy another (because it’s cheap).

Thankfully, I’ve had a revelation: I’m a grown up and if I want to buy a better mop, I can. And as if God Himself supported this line of thinking when I was in the grocery store yesterday, the $15 mop was ON SALE for $10!!

So now I’m pretty excited to go on a cleaning rampage in my house this weekend. How sad is that? If I were the teenage me reading this, I’d probably off myself immediately rather than face a future in which new mops got me excited.

Where am I?

I officially relinquished my chaperon duties a full week ago today. And yet again last night I awoke with a start, sitting bolt-upright muttering in a panicked voice, "Where are the girls?!! Where are the girls?!!"

I know this actually happens, because I wake myself up in the process. My eyes are open, but I can't make out the room around me. In the dark, with the myopia that makes my world at night look like a blue-black impressionist painting, I squint and scan the room looking for the row of bunks that should stretch down the long room to my left. But the room is not long and the bunks are not there.

The street light coming in the windows is not the same as it was in the bunkhouse and I look around struggling to figure out what is going on and where I am. It's happened nearly every night. And it's kind of upsetting.

The really odd thing is that I certainly didn't feel very chaperon-y during the trip. I felt more like a passenger on the ship than anyone involved with steering it. Guess the sense of responsibility somehow crept into my subconscious. Wonder when it will leave.

Tell Everyone

This was my second trip to the Gulf Coast area in seven months. Very little has changed. In January I was in Slidell, LA just north of NOLA, and this time I was in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, about an hour east of the city.

I was with four other chaperons and 16 17-year-old girls. We worked with a local Habitat for Humanity chapter. We were outside working all day. I've never sweat so much in my entire life and the current heat/humidity in NJ feels "not too bad" to me now, by comparison. I am thankful I don't work outside in this heat all day and have a new-found appreciation for those who do.

Observation: The gulf coast is being rebuilt on the backs of volunteers - largely students and women from what I have seen.

Observation: The devastation is horrific. TWO YEARS LATER - it is STILL horrific. Imagine your town wiped out. All the strip malls leveled, piles of debris still standing in the parking lots where your favorite stores used to be; streets abandoned except for one or two homeowners who have returned to try and rebuild on their own. Picture beautiful homes, wrecked and skeletal, with FEMA trailers in the front yard, where a family of 4 or 5 live as they try to rebuild. You have to drive miles to find a bank, which has only re-opened in a trailer. Many grocery stores have not returned, so getting food is a real trick in some places. Some roads have still not reopened (there's no urgency for some, since no one lives on those streets any more). Many traffic lights are still missing. It's just unreal. It looks like a movie set - an apocalyptic movie.

Observation: These are not lazy people who are looking for handouts; they are hard-working people who had insurance policies that are not being honored, and people who are loosing their life savings trying to fight for what should be theirs.

Observation: The wealthier people fair better.

MESSAGE: This is what they all asked us - homeowners, shop owners, the Habitat people, the people at the church where we stayed - they all asked us to tell people outside the area that it is not over; Katrina is NOT over. And the need is still great.

The Habitat people told us the volunteers are dropping off. People think everything is fixed. It's not. It's so very far from it.

Another Hiatus

After completely neglecting this blog for the past week, I am now about to abandon it again.

I'm heading off on another service trip. This time with my dear friend from college, Marie, who is an English teacher and responsible for leading one of her school's service trips. We're heading to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi with 16 students and three other chaperons.

I've set up a blog for the trip: http://misstrip.blogspot.com/

There is wifi at our bunkhouse so hopefully, if we're not too exhausted, we will keep it up-to-date.

See y'all there! (The "y'all" is both in honor of our host state and for DB who is now the official Southern US English Guru for the BDO.)

Shocking Language Discovery

"Gonna" is in the dictionary! Whoa. I kind of can't believe that. As in, "I'm going to get you, my little pretty!" Only all slurred together and mispronounced as, "I'm gonna get you, my little pretty!" I had no idea that was a legitimate word.

I heard someone on the radio use the word this morning and I started thinking about how difficult it must be for non-native English speakers to figure out that one. But I guess not. They can just look it up.

Language evolves. Yes indeed.

"It's a Major Award!"

This is the current batch of Mt. Dew caps scattered on Will's desk:


He's been collecting them for months and then going online and logging in "codes" in an effort to win stuff. I actually think he got a check for $5 at one point early on. If I had to guess, I would say there have been well over 100 different caps on his desk during the course of this promotion.

This is a picture of his nephew's stash of caps:


Young nephew has been staying with us for about a month and Will's influence on the 18-year-old is clear in many, many ways. This is just one.

This is a telephone conversation from earlier today between me and Will:

Me: "Hey are you expecting a package?"
Will: "No. Why?"
Me: "Something sort of big came. It's heavy."
Will: "Who's it from?"
Me: "I don't know. (Pause to read.) The return just says Young American Corporation. In Minnesota. Hey wait! Did you win something from those stupid Mt. Dew caps? That 'Young American' - that's where all those promotions and sweepstakes come from!"
Will: "I don't know. They don't tell you if you won. Open it up! Open it up!"

A frenzy of tape ripping ensues, only to reveal once I have opened the box, there is another box, inside the box. I then struggle to get the second box out of the first and rip through another several layers of packing tape. It seems to take an inordinately long time, and I am reminded of the scene from A Christmas Story, when the father's crate arrives and he struggles to get inside, then once inside he has to dig through all that hay-like packing material before unearthing his booty. AND SO... the next line from me, of course, invokes that famous line from the movie:

"It's a Major Award!" (Sadly, I think this is somewhat lost on Will who has more important things to do with his life than memorize movie lines.)

This is what was inside the box the UPS man brought today:

Will's Major Award.

Music to work by: Pachelbel and Peter Gabriel

Just recently I have re-discovered the local college radio station, WNTI, emanating from the campus of Centenary College in Hackettstown, NJ. (The town which, incidentally, is the birth-place of just about every M&M candy east of Chicago - it's true, check the back of your M&M bag if you don't believe me.)

The station's tag line is "Where great music lives" and you know what? It IS. It truly is. I find it is great music to cook by and now I'm discovering it's great music to work by. The mix is so incredibly eclectic and almost ALWAYS works.

As the title of this post indicates, I just heard Pachelbel's Canon in D, backed with Shock the Monkey by Peter Gabriel. Where else but college radio, right? I'm tellin' ya it worked. Well.

WNTI. Love 'em. Just love 'em.

...later ...
Further Proof of this Station's Greatness

How cool is this station? They are, right now, airing War of the Worlds.

Jersey Fresh, Part II

When I actually started yesterday's post I hadn't planned to go where I went. I had planned to write about corn. But then I started writing about the tomatoes and just got carried away (produce high I guess).

Yesterday I got some Jersey Fresh corn from my favorite local farm (Donaldson's). It's a little more pricey than the grocery store and most of the other farms around here, but it's so worth it.

I love husking corn. It brings back happy childhood memories. My dad and I always husked the corn together. That was "our" job. We'd be out on the back porch, chatting and husking. There is something very peaceful and satisfying about peeling back the darn green outer husks, revealing the tender light green ones inside. And there is a definite skill to knowing the exact right moment - when you have peeled away just enough - to grab the silk in a fist-full and pull it all off in one big bunch. If you try too soon, the silk breaks off mid-way and you are left with a mess of hairy fibers on your corn. If you wait too long, the silk all separates into its individual strands with a similar result.

In all my years of husking corn I have never seen what I saw last night(although I asked one person so far and she was all like, 'Yeah. I've seen that about a thousand times.'). One ear had a few extra tassels sticking out the sides of the ear. As I peeled closer, I saw little baby ears! Never saw that before and thought it was so neat.



It got me thinking about the first person to figure out that there was something worth eating inside that husk. Wild corn. Can you imagine?Corn must have been wild at some point. Before civilization began cultivating it. I suppose it's not that big a mystery - someone probably saw some animal eating it and figured, "well it didn't kill the beast over there, I suppose it won't hurt me."

Jersey Fresh

Some have asked, "What's with the tomatoes?"

Right. Well. I am a Jersey Girl. I once had big hair. I once drove a red car. I eat pork roll (but only the Shoprite Tangy variety, sliced very thin and cooked well-done). I GROW TOMATOES. And I believe Jersey tomatoes are the absolute best-tasting tomatoes you can get. I've traveled. I've sampled. Ours are the best.

Mine, in particular, are really yummy. I can't think of many things more delightful than picking a ripe tomato off the vine, holding it gently to your cheek so you can feel the sun's warm lovin', and then slicing it up for a sandwich. The first tomato of the year is reserved for a tomato sandwich. A thin smear of mayo (real mayo, not that miracle whip crap, and no 'lite' or fat-free varieties); a light, light, light sprinkle of salt; and about 3 or 4 slices of the perfect fruit, depending on the size of your bread. I grow my little babies from seed and they should be ripening up in the next few weeks. Ahh, the sweet joy of anticipation.

The photo is of some of my tomato babies from a few years ago. I love tomatoes, food in general and cooking. I also like the color red a lot. I like the earthy, nurturing connotation of the image. And so... it's my profile pic (everywhere online, in fact). Tomatoes Are Me. I am tomatoes. I am... a Jersey Tomato.

When my brain is like Bill Gates

I've been a bit of blog slacker lately, haven't I? Busy days both inside and out of the BDO.

In addition to work, we have our annual July 4 bash here tomorrow, which takes a little planning and prep; my 20th HS reunion is fast approaching and all those communication-ish-related things I volunteered to do are still not done; and we seem to have a pretty constant parade of house guests lined up throughout the month of July, which means extra cooking, laundry and other little bits of work. A lot of tiny stuff that all adds up.

And speaking of the reunion and communication-ish type stuff... we recently sent out a postcard that included all of 70 words. As is my SOP, I sent the copy to our committee via email for some extra eyes (there are six people on the committee, so in addition to mine that's 10 more eyes!). In the past, I have gotten little response other than, "looks good!," usually followed by another proofing on my part that reveals at least one or two typos or other glitches.

This time, someone came back almost right away pointing out a "hear" that should have been a "heard." Great catch! Love it! I then re-read all 70 words slowly and very carefully to be sure nothing else escaped my professional communicator attention.

Then another email: "Fix the 'We’ve haven’t' and you'll be good to go!"

The old eternal truth rears its ugly head: It's impossible to proof your own work. I know what I meant to write, so my brain fills in missing bits and corrects errors for me.

My brain is sort of like Bill Gates in this way - it thinks it's doing something helpful for me, quietly in the background, but in the end, it just messes things up even more.

New Writing Samples

The first question is always, “Can you show us some samples of your work?” That one usually even precedes, “What’s your rate?” Which is good and right; It should be more about the quality of the work than the money.

I try to keep my writing samples current, but it’s tough. Some clients don’t want me to share things, some work isn't worth sharing (so boring), and some work gets so gnarled after I turn it over to clients, that it no longer represents “my good work” – it is neither mine nor good. Some work dies in committee - too many reviewers, too little planning, or just dead-end projects.

Just posted two things I’m pretty pleased with.

The first is a case-study-style article about this amazing reading program I’ve had the pleasure to be writing about for nearly a year now. (There have been many, many other case studies during this time. This is the only one that has managed to make it through the maze of editing and approvals.)

The second is an ad series that I did in conjunction with this super cool creative firm I have the pleasure of working with often. They came up with all the concepts, gave me the designs and said, “fill in some copy.” And so I did. That’s my job.

Grind, Crunch, Boom - Part II

Faithful readers (all two of you) may recall that I wrote about the sidewalks in front of the BDO being ripped up and replaced right before I left for vacation. I wrote that the timing was great since I was leaving and would miss all the noise right outside my window. Came home to lovely, even, un-cracked new sidewalks.

And now... the town is ripping up the ROAD outside my window. INSANE amount of noise. Banging, grinding, pounding. Sometimes the windows of this old house rattle. And then there is that unmistakable high-pitched beep of heavy equipment backing up.

I have to conduct a phone interview this morning. This ought to be a hoot.

Back in business (heavy sigh)

Well. Here I am again. Working.

Today a client asked me how my trip was and I shared with her these two vignettes that illustrate the quality of my recent vacation.

Quality Vacation Vignette #1
One day, I went into a Yellowstone post office to drop off some postcards and get postage for one of those cute puzzle postcards that require extra (unspecified) postage. A sign on the door read, "Closed for lunch: 12.30 - 1.30)." I consulted my watch, then the clock on the wall. It was 2.30. Where were these postal slackers? I peeked through the mail slots, looked around, blinked a few times, read the sign again, looked at my watch and the clock again, shrugged my shoulders and walked out.

Will was waiting in the car with an inquisitive expression. I explained about the sign and my confusion. And then suddenly, Will's expression changed as it dawned on him and he said, "Carole! It's SUNDAY!"

Quality Vacation Vignette #2
At one point, towards the end of the trip (after the post office incident, but before we were actually heading home), we were stopped at a gas station when I noticed a young woman at a nearby pump get out of her car and begin washing her windshield. She was very careful not to brush up against the car and dirty her pretty work clothes. "WORK CLOTHES! Oh crap. That's right. I forgot people work for a living. I work for a living." I sank more deeply into that seat than I had in 3,000+ miles. Ugh.

Lost track of the days and forgot people actually did anything other than tour around National Parks, camp, picnic, hike, and generally enjoy the world. Yes, it was a very good vacation.

Overheard in the BDO: Grind, crunch, boom!

The town is replacing the sidewalks in front of our house. It sounds like the dinosaurs have returned and are stomping around raising quite a ruckus.



They’ve been working up and down the street for a few weeks and the fact that they just arrived today at our front door could not have worked out better for the BDO since, as of tomorrow, June 7, “our offices” will be closed for a little over two weeks as I go on vacation. If you want to know more about the trip and follow our little journey, I have set up a travel blog, which I hope to keep up-to-date.

The backs of the leaves are showing

My mom taught me so many things. Most of it was on purpose, but I bet a lot was not even part of her master plan. She has a lot of little sayings that have stuck with me and echo in my mind so often, I think sometimes I don’t even hear them as they pass through.

She always used to say, “If the backs of the leaves are showing, that means it’s going to rain.” I don’t know that we ever discussed it, but I took this as absolute fact and somehow believed it was because the leaves “drank” rain water through their softer, more porous-looking undersides. I think I was well into my twenties before I realized the backs of the leaves show whenever it’s really, really windy, and yes that sometimes precedes a rain fall, but not always.

The backs of the leaves are showing today. And, in fact, we had a sprinkle of rain earlier, and it looks like we might have another. Maybe my childhood suspicions are true: Moms and Dads do know everything.

Lost my head there for a minute

I had a brush with traditional employment this week. Interesting choice of phrase – it’s typically “a brush with greatness.” Perhaps a more appropriate phrase might be “dodged a traditional gig this week,” as in, “dodged a bullet.”

After reading a job description forwarded from a friend, I started imagining a utopian world in which the work was rewarding, the people were all brilliant, creative and reasonable, and the compensation was just. I was nearly giddy with excitement and anticipation. And then the HR screener called.

To find out the truth about the work and the people, I’d actually need to experience the job for a while (and thus sacrifice all my fabulous freelance clients). But compensation always comes up early in these conversations. Luckily, it was just low enough to shake me out of my delirious stupor.

Down with buildings that have windows that don’t open! Long live the BDO!

(Nothing But) Flowers

(I love that Talking Heads song and think of it every time I garden.)

The offices of UtterClarity were closed today for the holiday, and I used the time to do some gardening with Will. A few before and after shots are below.

Still a LOT more work to do, but the beds were really a mess and it feels good to have done a major weeding in two of them and to have mulch down in one with a heavy coat of Weed-n-Feed underneath. ("Yum,"say the flowers. "Gulp, gasp, gurgle," say the germinating weeds.)

Will put some edging in along the front and I'm diggin' it the MOST. The material he used is called "Fiber Edge," which is very amusing to me, because that's the "brand" name of a service I help promote for one of my clients (it's a fiber optic tv, phone and Internet thingy).

I'm already sore and expect to be nearly immobile tomorrow. Good thing all I need to do is sit, think and type.

Mummenschanz 2007!

The highlight of the 2007 Habitat for Humanity fundraiser yard sale (which is an annual event that takes place on the front lawn of the BDO building [our house]) was when our 4-year-old nephew slid one of the boxes on his head and started walking around the yard. We couldn’t resist adding a face.















His brother was a little creeped-out:

Views from the BDO: Annex #2

The new cushion’s here! The new cushion’s here!



I special ordered a new cushion for my vintage lounge (and by “vintage” I mean rusty, old and free since I dug it out of someone’s trash heap), in an attempt to match the rest of the crap (and by “crap” I mean fine outdoor living pieces) on my deck. I'm pleased. I think it looks swell. And now I can work in a Pasha-like reclining posture in the BDO Annex #2.

...a few minutes later...

Hazard of working in BDO Annex #2
Nature flotsam in the coffee:

Liar, liar.

Hypocritical, isn't it? When we accuse someone of telling a lie using this familiar line, we actually tell a lie: “Liar, Liar. Pants on fire.” Are any one's pants really on fire? Someone's nose is growing.

Hey wait! That's a lie too!

Life is just full of inconsistencies that fluster me on a daily basis.

New all-time low?

An artist friend of mine once told me that there are no new ideas – just new arrangements of old ideas. I find this to be true. Much of the most “clever” writing I have done has been, in part, stolen from someone else. Stolen from or inspired by? Thin line.

Some greats I have ripped-off include: Mark Twain, Aristotle, and most recently God. Yes, God. I actually penned some copy that opens with “In the beginning there was [client name]…” (In my defense this goes REALLY well with the concepts developed by the creative firm, which are all about creation. )

Shall I list the reasons I am most likely to burn in hell? There are plenty already. Now there are plenty + 1.

Overheard in the BDO: "Hey babe..."

A peek into the demographic of my community.

Scene 1: A father and son walking along the sidewalk just across the street from the BDO annex (front porch). Dad is sporting a baseball cap that barely contains his long, abundant, bushy hair. He is pushing a scooter. It's about noon so they are probably on their way to afternoon kindergarten at the nearby school.

As they pass, dad turns his head, cups his hand to his mouth to focus the forthcoming gruff shout in the direction of someone behind him on the sidewalk:

“HEY BABE! CAN YOU ALSO GET ME A PACK OF CIGARETTES?”

A pause and then, “THANK YOU.”

Scene 2: Dad and Babe walk by again a short time later. He is riding the scooter, and has a cigarette dangling from his lips. Babe is regaling Dad in a rather loud tone with a story about an exchange she must have had with the store clerk. It included a lot of expletives.

Charming.

(But at least they are taking their kid to school. And at least he was polite when asking Babe to get him the cigarettes.)

Bye, Bye Miss American Pie

I am a self-confessed nostalgia glutton. It is my only vice/addiction outside excessive coffee consumption. At times I have been known to indulge in near toxic doses of nostalgia. I stare at photo albums, read old letters or journal entries and work myself into a frenzy of emotion, longing for a person or time that is no more.

When I walk the halls or stroll the campus of a school I attended, and things aren’t where I left them, I feel robbed of my memories. I currently live very near where I grew up and as streets are rerouted, buildings torn down and new ones built I have the same reaction.

Yet when I reconnect with old friends I actually despise reminiscing and try to keep the conversation focused on the here and now - who we are today. If all we have to talk about is the past, then we’ve grown into pretty boring adults, haven’t we?

I’m probably thinking about all this for two reasons:

1) In addition to my duties as chief wordsmith and idea hatcher here at UtterClarity, I am also currently a member of the planning committee for my 20th HS reunion (this is SOO out of character it’s not funny ... it would be difficult to find someone who hated high school more than I did).

2) A friend recently posted a blog entry titled, “You Haven't Changed A Bit.”

Million-Dollar Ideas from the BDO

Coffee Emergency Squad

I actually have to give credit to my sister here; this isn’t entirely a BDO-born idea. Yesterday my sis chose to go out of her way and make an extra stop at the ATM (because the $2 in her wallet would not be enough) to get an iced coffee. The choice made her a little late for an important meeting, but it was – as those of us in the club know – a Coffee Emergency.

We decided that Dunkin or Starbucks or SOMEONE should have a Coffee Emergency Squad. Little vans that patrol the streets looking for people about to become victims of a Coffee Emergency (the Squad would need flashing lights, sirens and traffic privileges so they could speed caffeinated comfort to those on the brink).

Of course we’d need a coffee 911 number too, so we could call in emergencies to a local dispatcher who could send the vans our way, when in need. Right?

Why I will never be rich (or powerful)

Sometimes, I’m just not the best person for the job. And unfortunately, I'm not afraid to say so.

As a vendor, I have no trouble pointing out to my clients when they are about to pay me for something that could be done much more efficiently in-house. Sometimes they explain that, for whatever reason, it really makes more sense for me to do it, and I comply. Other times, they hear the logic in what I am saying and I lose work (of the revenue-generating kind).

In my corporate days, the equivalent experience looked like this: If it made more sense for someone else to take on a project – if s/he could do it more efficiently than I – I’d let that person take it (often along with the credit and high profile that went with the work).

I don't feel smart when I turn away work; but I don't feel good when I get paid to do something that the person paying me could have done just as easily for him- or herself.

Overheard in the BDO

Recess

There is an elementary school two blocks from the BDO. I’m working in the front-porch annex office and I can hear a group of children shout-counting, “FIVE. SIX. SEVEN…” Hide-n-seek has got to be pretty tough on a fenced-in, concrete playground. Wonder what game they are playing.

Language Matters: Ghetto

One of the style books I refer to regularly has a great line in its introduction. The gist of it is: Language evolves. Deal with it and don’t be a stick in the mud.

I embrace this philosophy. I’ll bend to most linguistic trends. I’ve finally accepted the fact that online is one word (even though it should be two, and hyphenated when used as a modifier). But I am really uncomfortable with this new use of the word ‘ghetto’ as an adjective. It’s used to describe things as worthless, meaningless, below consideration, etc.

The first time I ever heard it used this way – so long ago now that I can’t even remember the phrase or context – I had a visceral negative reaction that I couldn’t explain. I heard it again recently and had the same reaction. Using the word ghetto this way is just disrespectful to those who, throughout history have been forced to live in ghettos against their wills.

I’m not against the use of the word ghetto all together; As a noun used to describe a run-down or poverty-stricken area, it’s an ideal choice. But as an adjective – especially dripping from the tongues of those who have never lived in a ghetto – it just doesn’t work. This linguistic trend, I will not embrace.

A little more about "ghetto."

“I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues."

The Lorax. It’s the very definition of timeless. In every generation it seems there is some precious natural tree-treasure being threatened. The mighty redwoods, tropical rainforests, the south Jersey pines…

I had to do some writing about trees for a client this week. The client was very pleased. Nearly raved about my work in fact.

Sadly, though, I think I was the Onceler.

Write what you know

This is probably the most common tid-bit of writing advice, and there’s a reason: It’s true. It’s always easier to write about something you know and invariably the quality of writing is superior because the writer feels at ease with the language surrounding the subject.

Having spent most of my adult life getting paid to write I have learned that when I am struggling with something, it is usually because I don’t have enough information. I check my notes, I check the background material, I do a little research, and if all this fails I go back to the client and ask for more information. This sometimes puts me in the awkward position of inadvertently pointing out holes in a client’s marketing plan, value proposition, strategy, or overall logic. (I raise questions for which they have no answers.)

Good, smart clients will fill in the gaps quickly or move to address the issue. Mediocre clients will come up with something that’s not quite the best answer, but it’s close enough (and most people won’t notice the difference).

And then there are those evil, mean, wicked, nasty, and bad clients. They turn on ME in such cases, furious that I can’t just “make it work with what you’ve got.”

I’m sorry folks. The arch won’t stand without the keystone.

The Lusty Month

"Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray.
Tra la! It's here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear!
It's May! It's May!
That gorgeous holiday
When ev'ry maiden prays that her lad
Will be a cad!
It's mad! It's gay!
A libelous display!
Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes,
Ev'ryone breaks.
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!

Whence this fragrance wafting through the air?
What sweet feelings does its scent transmute?
Whence this perfume floating ev'rywhere?
Don't you know it's that dear forbidden fruit!
Tra la la la la! That dear forbidden fruit!
Tra la la la la!

Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That darling month when ev'ryone throws
Self-control away.
It's time to do
A wretched thing or two,
And try to make each precious day
One you'll always rue!
It's May! It's May!
The month of "yes you may,"
The time for ev'ry frivolous whim,
Proper or "im."
It's wild! It's gay!
A blot in ev'ry way.
The birds and bees with all of their vast
Amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast,
The lusty month of May.

Tra la! It's May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes
Blissfully astray.
Tra la! It's here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts
Merrily appear.
It's May! It's May!
The month of great dismay.
When all the world is brimming with fun,
Wholesome or "un."

It's mad! It's gay!
A libelous display!
Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes,
Ev'ryone breaks.
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!"

- Guenevere & Cast, Camelot

Hey! That's my stuff they're talking about.

This was a pretty neat experience.

Last night I was in the kitchen whipping up yet another fabulous dining experience for my sweetie and me, when I heard the lead-in to a news story on NPR that made me cock my head inquisitively (you know – the way George Clooney does in just about every movie he’s ever been in).

The story was about education and in particular educational software. Within the first ten words of the story I heard the name of a school I was writing about this week for one of my clients. A few words later, I heard the name of the product which is the focus of these “success stories” I’ve been developing for said client.

A lot of my work is – how to put this – boring. It’s intended for very finite and often small audiences and frequently about things that aren’t particularly interesting to me. Things like medical equipment purchase financing, state sales tax software, mold-inhibiting chemical compounds – I’ve made my point, yes? Of course I enjoy learning about new things and trying to find the best way to communicate them for a specific purpose to a specific audience. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing.

So it is a particular pleasure when I am fortunate enough to work on projects that mesh with a few of my personal passions (education, kids, literacy). And it was a bonus joy to hear the same work I’ve been documenting, referenced in a story on NPR's All Things Considered. I felt sort of famous by association.

Planet Earth

“Astronomers have found the most Earth-like planet outside our Solar System to date.”

This news is really messing with my mental footing. Of course it’s vain and pedestrian to think we are the only living planet in the universe. But still, reading this, I am, for the first time, picturing another entire planet maybe populated by things like us. I put forth this thought in dinner conversation tonight:

Me: “Can you imagine? In our lifetime we may see a new planet with a whole bunch of creatures just like us, with all sorts of different societies, speaking all sorts of different languages!”

Will: (clearly not taking me seriously or nearly as excited about this news as I am) “Maybe they all will speak English.”

Me: “No, that wouldn’t make sense.”

Will: “Maybe they all will speak English with a southern accent.”

Me: “That’s a little scary. It would probably prove the existence of God though, wouldn’t it? Specifically the God of the Bible Belt-ers – Southern Baptists and such.”

And thus the conversation ended.

Song lyrics I now can’t get out of my head
as a result of this news:
“Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do.”
(David Bowie)

“Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-bah, this is planet earth.”
(Duran Duran)

Views from the BDO: Annex Office

Today was the first day I was able to work in the UtterClarity Annex Office (our front porch). Here's just a little sample of the view.

Overheard in the BDO

Summertime evening shrieks

(Even though it's not yet summer.)

Today was the first day of wonderful weather we have had in a long time. Temps were in the high 70s and there was a breeze blowing most of the day. Cool in the shade; warm in the sun – weather perfection. Everyone was out and about, smiling back at that big yellow ball in the sky and letting the wind blow off all the inside staleness.

It’s after 8 p.m. now - nearly 9 - and I am listening to the sounds of summer beginning: the shrieks of little kids playing outside after dark. Maybe tag. Maybe hide and seek. Maybe nothing organized – just blissfully un-orchestrated kid fun. Every time I hear a blast of screams and giggles, I glance over at the clock, thinking that’s got to be the last one. But then there it is again.

It’s the sound of days to come. Only a few more weeks of school. Then we can play out late every night. Just don’t leave the edge of the neighbor’s lawn. And listen for mom to call you in for the night. Then pretend you didn’t hear to get a few more minutes of play. Then inside, warm bath, cozy bed, sweet dreams.

New toy in the BDO

This news is actually a little old, but a few weeks ago I finally gave up the sixty bucks and got myself a nifty little digital recorder. No more messing around with micro cassettes, worrying about the tape running out or having to flip it in the middle of an interview. On the highest quality recording level I have SEVEN glorious hours of recording time. (Even I can’t gab with someone that long.) And I hadn’t even thought about how nifty it would be to have audio files of my interviews on my computer. It’s so darn handy. I have no idea how I lived without it before.

Clever Retorts

Inspired by this childhood rejoinder — ‘A jerk is a tug. A tug is a boat. A boat sits on water. Water is nature and nature is beautiful, so thanks for the compliment’ — my 11-year-old niece, my sister and I came up with the following witty replies to common jabs.

Geek sounds like eek. Eek is an exclamation. Glad you're so excited to see me.

Stupid starts with stoop. A stoop is a porch. A porch is attached to a house and if want you an invitation over, you’re going to have to be nicer.

Meanie rhymes with weenie. Weenie is a hot dog. A hot dog is America’s favorite, so thanks for reminding me how popular I am.

Fatty rhymes with catty. A cat starts out as a kitten. Kittens are adorable, so thanks for calling me adorable.

Loser starts with l. L comes before m. M times 2 is M&M. Thanks for calling me sweet.

Learn 'em. Love 'em. Use 'em.

The disk is full

I’ve been flipping through community school catalogs looking for something that sounds like: “Meditation for Better File Storage Management in the Brain.” A sort of MIT-meets-new-age-guru thing. I’m sure it exists. I need it.

Following are just a few of my disks that are simply maxed out: Names of any new people (this one was full a while ago); European churches; Passwords, PIN numbers, access codes, etc.; waterfalls; where I left my keys THIS time (I'd really like to erase all the old files here).

I can fit no more data of this type into storage.

Staring motionless

As in, “I have been staring motionless at this blank page for a full 10 minutes now.”

Or perhaps this: “I stared motionless at the existing copy for a full 10 minutes before I had even the vaguest notion where to start untangling its logic knot.”

Or maybe this: “I stared motionless into space pondering how the $#@! to construct a message that could satisfactorily explain to customers why rates had gone down eight months ago, but were now going back up by an as-yet-unknown amount that would then fluctuate month-to-month.”

Or even this: “Should I bill my client for this? I’m quite sure they don’t pay me to stare motionless.”

What's so bad about...

OK. I was trying to keep this blog somewhat professional, but I can’t help it. What’s so bad about Sanjaya? He’s certainly not the most talented, but so what? Let’s face it: the competition is between LaKisha, Jordan and Melinda (who, in my opinion should be kicked out because this is an AMATEUR competition and she makes her living singing). So who cares if Sanjaya gets through a few more rounds? And why are they SOO mean to him on the show? I don't get it.

In the ebb (vs. the flow)

Top five worst things about work being a wee bit slow:

5. When things get busy again, I always lament that I didn’t ‘do more’ with the extra time.

4. I stink at business development.

3. Less brain stimulation = less creative inspiration … everything suffers.

2. Finding the right amount of work to fill in ‘a wee bit’ of my week is a real trick; people either want me full time for the next 6 weeks, or for 20 hours/week forever. (I have 8-10 hours a week to fill. Please tell your friends and family. That right there is about the full extent of my bus dev skill.)

And the number-one worst thing about work being slow is….

1. It encourages procrastination like you wouldn’t believe.

Pests!

The BDO is being overrun by these freakin’ shield/stink bugs!!















They are just SO creepy looking.

I have been forced to leave my little hand-vac out all the time so when they make their appearances I can just suck them into oblivion. Been sucking up about two or three every day I am in here. Can’t smash them because of the “stink.” Of course I have never experienced this stink and wonder how bad it would really be... Not curious enough to risk it.

They are coming into the BDO from the attic somehow. And I guess I should be happy about that, because if there are live bugs in the attic, that probably means there are no more bats in the attic (no bat sightings in the actual house since July 2005; in the attic since October 2005).

But maybe bats don’t eat them because of the stink?

Everybody has a story

I have set my browser to open every day to “Things at King’s.” The author, Fr. Tom, ran the radio station at King’s College where I went to school and as I read his blog every day I can hear his warm voice and it makes me happy. Usually starts my day off right.

Sometimes, he ends his blogs with a little blurb about someone in the area who recently died. I wish Fr. Tom had been writing his blog in July 2005. That’s when my grandmother died and maybe he would have written about her.

Inspired by him, I’m ripping him off and writing it myself (two years late).

Sylvia (Micoychick) Dicton, 100, passed away in July of 2005. She came to Wilkes-Barre from Poland and met the love of her life, John, while working as a waitress in Percy Brown’s. They married in secret and remained secretly married, living apart, for several weeks, until - during confession, as penance - Sylvia was directed by her parish priest to tell her parents. She broke her leg once stomping on a snake in her yard. Her grandchildren will remember her most for her cooking, and a particularly odd specialty, potato chip crumb cookies (a depression-era treat).

Fr. Tom's are much shorter and tighter, but what the heck. She was my Gram.

Views from the BDO: M’s

Anyone who has worked with me even a little knows that I am seriously affected by the weather. A little sun, an open window and a breeze set me into fits of energy and glee. Conversely, grey days make me crabby, sleepy and potentially dangerous.

In an effort to combat this, I decided this past Christmas to leave in place a string of colored lights along my windowsill in the BDO. My thesis is that the lights will help lift my mood when Mother Nature conspires to turn me into my evil twin.

This morning ...














...seemed a perfect time to test this theory.













I do smile when I turn to look at the little dancing M’s.

Stupid Human Tricks

Nothing cuts down on pesky client calls like leaving your fax plugged into your phone line (and then leaving the office for hours.)

Formal apologies to any clients who tried to reach me yesterday.

Note to self: set up fax for remote operation and answering machine function to avoid similar future mishaps.

Disturbing Commercial Copy

This could easily become a recurring feature here.

Today’s offender: “Midnight snack, brought to you by (some diaper brand).”

This line comes up as a woman is changing a diaper. Wouldn’t common sense dictate that the concepts ‘snack’ and ‘diaper’ just should never appear near each other? I wonder if someone, somewhere along the creative process pointed out how gross this is and was ignored. Or maybe I am just missing something because I am not a mom. Within less than half a second of the offending line, the image changes from the stinky disgusting act of diapering to the woman blowing raspberries on the baby’s belly; maybe the snack is the raspberries? But that really doesn’t make much sense either. Are they selling cannibalism? What’s the snack??? Shades of Soylent Green, no?

As my hip teen friends would say, “Seriously, WTF?!”

No News. Or Notes.

I’m going to let Charlie Brown do the talking (he's so wise):
Peanuts comic strip: April 1, 1960

Food from the BDO: Marinades

Grilling season is upon us and in the spirit of sharing I am posting two marinade recipes with which I recently have had yummy encounters. Please note that I rarely plan far enough ahead to actually shop for specific ingredients so substitutions are standard (and noted below in parens).

No name marinade
1 cup soy sauce
½ cup Worcestershire sauce
¼ cup dry sherry (I had a little Marsala and a little dry white, which totaled ¼ cup together – booze is booze, right?)
4 cloves garlic, minced

This is actually for a 4-5 lb tenderloin of beef, but I’m thinking I will try it soon with a London broil. It's not exactly earth-shatteringly brilliant, but that's part of its charm in my opinion. It has no name in the cookbook. The recipe says to marinate overnight. I got about 3 hours in.

Afghani Yogurt Marinade
¾ cup of plain yogurt
1 small onion, coarsely chopped
¼ cup chopped parsley
4 cloves garlic, crushed through a press
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice (I only had limes in the house)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 ½ teaspoons paprika (YEAH BABY!)
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

Chuck it all in a food processor or blender and mix until smooth. This one I did tonight with chicken and it was FAB-U! With the cumin and limes and pepper, it was almost a little Mexican-ish. Definitely had a kick to it. The recipe says to marinate for at least 4 hours. I did mine for less than two.

Man I love food.

In the stark absence of cubicles

So today I had the great pleasure of interviewing an AMAZING woman who is doing INCREDIBLE things and CHANGING the lives of kids at the school where she is the principal. I love it when my work is inspiring. Damn I’m lucky.

I was giddy when I hung up the phone. My mind was racing. Who can I call? Who can I tell how excited I am about this? I actually thought about calling the client who commissioned the story. Thankfully, I curbed that urge. I can only imagine: “That’s nice, dear. But why are you calling? Go write the %$#@! story!” And, of course, my excitement would only raise expectations to a height I couldn’t possibly meet. (Keeping client expectations low is sort of my trade secret.)

If I was in a real office, I would have popped up, leaned over my cubical wall and exploded my excitement all over an unsuspecting co-worker, going on and on about why this was the best interview ever, and this woman was just so amazing, and what we do is just so meaningless and pointless by comparison, and oh my God I can’t wait to write this!!!

Meanwhile, I wouldn’t be writing. And after blathering on about the great interview, then taking a nature break, then getting a coffee refill, I’d come back to my desk and the moment would be gone. I’d stare blankly at the screen and find some excuse NOT to start writing and a week later I’d be nursing a budding case of panic as the deadline drew nigh.

But instead, I banged out a first draft. Yet another advantage of the Barbie Dream (home) Office.

The truth about cookies

My sister and I decided to communicate in nothing but haiku for an entire day this week. She is a fifth-grade teacher and was home with my six-year-old nephew who was running a fever.

We created more than 20 haiku in a back-and-forth email exchange over the course of the day. Most of them were very, very bad (as you might expect). But my nephew contributed one worth sharing:

We have cookies now
Cookies are awesome to eat
They are good with milk

My tax dollars at work

Had a great conversation with one of my nieces recently. We were coloring and I asked her how school was going and if there was any exciting news to report from second grade. She looked up from her page, paused, crinkled her face thoughtfully and said, “No. Not really. Nothing to report.” We continued coloring.

A few seconds later, a gasp and then: “Oh wait! We learned about encyclopedias.”

Then a strange expression washed over her face that I couldn’t quite identify at the moment, but later realized was the “Oh crap! I forgot I was talking to Aunt Carole and she’s going to ask a follow-up question and I don’t really have any more to offer” look.

“Yeah? What did you learn about them?”

Silence.

“Can you tell me what an encyclopedia is?”

Tentatively, and in the tone of a question with her voice going up slightly at the end, “It’s like a-a-a dictionary???”

Poor kid. It’s tough having an annoying aunt like me who always wants to talk about school and stuff. But what’s the point really? Why are they teaching kids about encyclopedias? I can’t even think of a house that has a set. I’m sure they still have ’em in libraries, but do people actually use them?

I guess they do, but take for example my post earlier this week about lightning bugs: I Googled “lightning bugs” and in .17 seconds had nearly half a million links. They’re not all reputable references of course, but I found a few and I had citable answers to most of my questions in under two minutes. Even if I had an Encyclopedia it would have taken that long to walk over to the bookshelf, blow off the dust and pull a volume down. Wouldn’t time be better spent teaching kids how to use critical thinking skills to comb web results and find reliable reference material?

Eh. Oh well. Back to coloring.

This can’t be a good idea.

Genetically-Engineered Mosquito Fights Malaria
Imagine this headline another way:
Science Builds Stronger, Longer-Lasting Mosquito.

Really? Do we really want stronger mosquitoes?

I totally get why they did this. The logic is sound: if the mosquito can’t get malaria, then it can’t pass it along to humans. But aren’t we even a little worried that perhaps by messing around with mosquito DNA we’re making them immune to other diseases?

This article actually says the new genetically engineered mosquitoes "were more fertile and less likely to die than normal, wild mosquitoes."

Like that's a good thing?!?!?!

I live in Jersey, man. I'm not up for stronger mosquitoes.