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.)
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
"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.
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.
Monday, July 16, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
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."
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."
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
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.
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.
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