I haven’t meant to be so absent from this blog but somehow in this northern-style winter we’re having in Kentucky I’ve had trouble even keeping up with the Sassy blog. Normally winter here is pretty short and really doesn’t involve very much snow and/or ice. With wave after wave of winter storms I’m going ever more into hibernation mode.
Now, I’m from Michigan and I lived many years in Chicago, so I know a truly tough winter is worse than this. I can remember as a child being so jealous that my Kentucky friends were always getting out of school for half an inch of snow while we trudged to school through six inches. But my final winter in Evanston, IL as a homeowner who had to shovel pretty much finished me off on northern living. So I don’t expect to be looking out my Kentucky window and seeing a landscape that looks like Michigan… every day… for three months.
By the big snow standards with which I grew up we still haven’t had much. My favorite story involves 24 inches of snow in 24 hours and having to get shovels from the garage and go out the back door and around the house because the snow was drifted up to the roof all across the front of the house. Yup. I have pictures–unfortunately not in digital form and in some box… Oh boy, that was some SHOVELING!
During my years in northern California I didn’t miss snowy winters a bit and somehow I’m not taking kindly to having this unusually tough winter here. I’m pretty sure my cat would rather be in San Diego. He loves to go out but every time I open the door he pokes his nose out and then looks up at me like, “Hey, I said 70. Do something.” Oh for that nose twitching power… Anyway, I might be back. And I might just have to add another blanket and snuggle a little deeper ‘cuz apparently 24 years away from northern climes has turned me into a big whiny baby when faced with winter.
I’ve been pretty lax about blogging lately and seriously ignoring this particular blog. I have to admit besides a general laziness and sense that I wanted to take it easy for a while, I’ve also been sidetracked by a game and started a blog for non-gamers like me. I’ve been having fun figuring out the game and how to explain it for those of us who haven’t been “gaming” since we were 5. Until this my computer gaming was pretty much free cell, spider and mah jong… so while there are lots of people writing about this, many of their explanations don’t help me. Anyway, instead of posting here I’ve been posting there.
But I do appreciate my followers and want to be sure you know that. And I send my best wishes and visions for a bright and happy 2014 for all of you!
I watch most shows that are set in Chicago at least once. Some of my favorite years and times happened in Chicago and I will always love that city. So any program that offers the possibility that I’ll get to see familiar and beloved scenery is something I’ll try. Chicago Fire was one of those tries that I stayed with.
This season, with the story line about the officious bitch trying to close down our favorite fire house, I’ve been longing for the character to be written out. So I was very happy to see her go in last night’s episode. Except…
I wanted a house to fall on her. And to get to see her pointy toes sticking out from under it. And possibly a chorus of Chicagoans dancing in the street singing “Ding dong the witch is dead”. Her comeuppance didn’t seem like enough somehow. At least one fireman said “ding dong…” but I like my chorus idea. And the house. Wouldn’t have had to be from Kansas. A house from Kankakee would would have been fine.
I’ve been realizing lately that while I’m a life long advocate for abolishing the death penalty and I can manage to have compassion for many varieties of criminals, I have no tolerance for people who like to toy with and torture the living in the hope of breaking their spirits… So this current fashion in t.v. and film for mean girls–I grind my teeth and want them dead. Hmmm.
I had to laugh when I read this prompt because I’m so not in the mainstream on this. My cell phone is almost never with me and even when it is I rarely have it turned on. I’d be surprised if I’ve taken a dozen pictures with it in the 2 years or so I’ve had it (notice that I feel no need to update it either…). When I do take pictures it’s usually with a small digital camera that I slip in my purse.
Now the phone thing stems from a lot of stuff about me, including that part of what I like about driving and being out of the house is that people can’t get me on the phone so I don’t enjoy the cell phone thing that much. The camera part started long before cell phones. I used to be a fairly avid — if very amateur — photographer. But one day I started feeling that I spent my vacations with a camera “standing” between me and the places I visited. That I saw them more in hindsight through pictures than in drinking in the moment. So I pretty much quit.
I have returned to taking pictures occasionally but I’m not a regular. If you look at the late September posts on this blog you’ll see I tried to blog about a vacation and kept forgetting to take pictures…
So while I totally get the intent behind the prompt, swearing off my cell phone and its camera really won’t change a thing for me this week.
If you catch this within about 5 hours of the time it goes up you can still get my new book for free.’
No, not to become a man. The only picture of a super woman I could find on Wikimedia was called “Fashion Girl” (which apparently equates with “must show cleavage”) and I decided my feminist sensibilities were less offended by a picture of a man… And I’m late again for this Daily Prompt since I’ve been a day behind on reading blogs but I liked this one so much I decided to do it anyway.
If this were my other blog I’d be writing about the power to make two people agree and spinning out till the world agreed on peace. But for this blog, my superhero is going to fulfill a dream of mine. Speaking other languages. I started studying French at 10 and even had a summer session in the Sorbonne‘s French language program but never became truly fluent. Later I took some conversational Italian. Same deal. Turns out I’m very good at memorizing the rules of grammar and have an excellent ear for mimicking the proper pronunciation but as far as actual ability to speak the language … not so much.
I lost count of the number of deer-in-the-headlight moments I had in France when, after I murmured a perfectly pronounced phrase or two, a French man/woman responded with a five page monologue at full speed (did you know they speak approx. 350 wpm to the U.S. avg. of 200?), of which I understood maybe 10 words. Did you know it’s hard to even hear what’s being said if it’s said that much faster than the rhythm to which you’re accustomed? Yep. At least I read that a long time ago in an article. And I can understand French better in a place like Martinique where it’s spoken more slowly. So my superpower would include the ability to listen to those other languages at the native’s natural speed.
I wouldn’t have to wear a wild and crazy costume in order to have my power — because I want to wander through little villages and chat with people who aren’t shaking with fear at being confronted by a freak who happens to speak their language perfectly. So maybe I’ll just don an amethyst ring or an amulet to quietly wander around being a superhero. En francais or …