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Entries by Dana (254)

Friday
Jun282013

Blusey and Then Some

 I guess if you feel bluesy, you may as well dive right  into it music and all.  The only way through the blues is to put one foot in front of the other and plod on.  This song is written by the great Janis Ian.  It is performed  by Michelle Wright, a multi-talented Canadian with that soulful, sultry lounge singer voice of Julie London and Diana Krall.

 

 As Far as Lonely Goes

written by Janis Ian and Matraca Berg

Underneath the neon sign
Of Harry's Bar and Grill
Someone hugs a bottle
To take away the chill.
Oh
But the wind still blows
Carries his sleeping soul
As far as lonely goes.

Upstairs in a penthouse
Behind a golden door
Someone's drinking pink champagne
To keep from being bored.
Between the highs and lows
The icy wind still blows
As far as lonely goes.

You would never buy a bottle
To wash away your troubles.
If you could buy a suitcase for your soul.
You would make a pretty package
Of all your extra baggage.
Lock it up and send it down the road

As far as lonely goes.
From the has-beens to the haves
From the mansions to the alleys
From the riches to the rags
Underneath our clothes.
We're all the same
You know
As far as lonely goes.

I would never buy a bottle
To wash away my troubles...

Sunday
Jun232013

Demise of the Duck Diner

Duck Wars: I've had to stop feeding the ducks. First it was the two pretty ducks, the male with only one foot and female,fondly named Chester and Miss Kitty. You have to be old like me to appreciate the names. They are Florida Mottled Ducks and have the sweetest faces I was buying a bag of cracked corn a week at the feed store. I had trained the dogs not to bark at them.  Chester and Miss Kitty became very friendly, very tame.  It was all good.

Then, these guys showed up...

They are Black Bellied Whistling Ducks and they are NOT nice at all.  First there were two, then four and soon six.  They began driving off Chester and Miss Kitty, literally swooping in and pecking at them.  They started patrolling the lake and making weird noises if Chester and Miss Kitty came around. 

The final outrage was when those nasty invaders attacked Poncho.  Poncho and Taffy's favorite place to nap is about four feet away from the duck diner.  They sleep in the sun by the Bottle Brush Tree.

Last week when Poncho was out there alone napping, those damn wood ducks went after him.  He was terrified and yipped and yelped.  Fortunately for the ducks, Taffy was inside.  So....I closed the Duck Diner.  Since I shut up shop, the marauding  mean ducks have flown the coop.  Chester and Miss Kitty have quit waddling up the bank begging for food, but still serenely glide by the edge of the lake frequently.

 

Thursday
Jun132013

How to Talk to Little Girls

How to Talk to Little Girls

 

 

Content
I went to a dinner party at a friend’s home last weekend, and met her five-year-old daughter for the first time.

 

Little Maya was all curly brown hair, doe-like dark eyes, and adorable in her shiny pink nightgown. I wanted to squeal, “Maya, you’re so cute! Look at you! Turn around and model that pretty ruffled gown, you gorgeous thing!”

But I didn’t. I squelched myself. As I always bite my tongue when I meet little girls, restraining myself from my first impulse, which is to tell them how darn cute/ pretty/ beautiful/ well-dressed/ well-manicured/ well-coiffed they are.

What’s wrong with that? It’s our culture’s standard talking-to-little-girls icebreaker, isn’t it? And why not give them a sincere compliment to boost their self-esteem? Because they are so darling I just want to burst when I meet them, honestly.

Hold that thought for just a moment.

This week ABC news reported that nearly half of all three- to six-year-old girls worry about being fat. In my book, Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World, I reveal that fifteen to eighteen percent of girls under twelve now wear mascara, eyeliner and lipstick regularly; eating disorders are up and self-esteem is down; and twenty-five percent of young American women would rather win America’s next top model than the Nobel Peace Prize. Even bright, successful college women say they’d rather be hot than smart. A Miami mom just died from cosmetic surgery, leaving behind two teenagers. This keeps happening, and it breaks my heart.

Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything. It sets them up for dieting at age 5 and foundation at age 11 and boob jobs at 17 and Botox at 23. As our cultural imperative for girls to be hot 24/7 has become the new normal, American women have become increasingly unhappy. What’s missing? A life of meaning, a life of ideas and reading books and being valued for our thoughts and accomplishments.

That’s why I force myself to talk to little girls as follows.

“Maya,” I said, crouching down at her level, looking into her eyes, “very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” she said, in that trained, polite, talking-to-adults good girl voice.

“Hey, what are you reading?” I asked, a twinkle in my eyes. I love books. I’m nuts for them. I let that show.

Her eyes got bigger, and the practiced, polite facial expression gave way to genuine excitement over this topic. She paused, though, a little shy of me, a stranger.

“I LOVE books,” I said. “Do you?”

Most kids do.

“YES,” she said. “And I can read them all by myself now!”

“Wow, amazing!” I said. And it is, for a five year old. You go on with your bad self, Maya.

“What’s your favorite book?” I asked.

“I’ll go get it! Can I read it to you?”

Purplicious was Maya’s pick and a new one to me, as Maya snuggled next to me on the sofa and proudly read aloud every word, about our heroine who loves pink but is tormented by a group of girls at school who only wear black. Alas, it was about girls and what they wore, and how their wardrobe choices defined their identities. But after Maya closed the final page, I steered the conversation to the deeper issues in the book: mean girls and peer pressure and not going along with the group. I told her my favorite color in the world is green, because I love nature, and she was down with that.

Not once did we discuss clothes or hair or bodies or who was pretty. It’s surprising how hard it is to stay away from those topics with little girls, but I’m stubborn.

I told her that I’d just written a book, and that I hoped she’d write one too one day. She was fairly psyched about that idea. We were both sad when Maya had to go to bed, but I told her next time to choose another book and we’d read it and talk about it. Oops. That got her too amped up to sleep, and she came down from her bedroom a few times, all jazzed up.

So, one tiny bit of opposition to a culture that sends all the wrong messages to our girls. One tiny nudge towards valuing female brains. One brief moment of intentional role modeling. Will my few minutes with Maya change our multibillion dollar beauty industry, reality shows that demean women, our celebrity-manic culture? No. But I did change Maya’s perspective for at least that evening.

Try this the next time you meet a little girl. She may be surprised and unsure at first, because few ask her about her mind, but be patient and stick with it. Ask her what she’s reading. What does she like and dislike, and why? There are no wrong answers. You’re just generating an intelligent conversation that respects her brain. For older girls, ask her about current events issues: pollution, wars, school budgets slashed. What bothers her out there in the world? How would she fix it if she had a magic wand? You may get some intriguing answers. Tell her about your ideas and accomplishments and your favorite books. Model for her what a thinking woman says and does.

And let me know the response you get at www.Twitter.com/lisabloom.

Here’s to changing the world, one little girl at a time.

Reprinted with permission.

© 2011 Lisa Bloom, author of Think: Straight Talk For Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World

Author Bio
Lisa Bloom, author of Think: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed Down World, is an award-winning journalist, legal analyst, trial attorney, and the daughter of renowned women’s rights attorney, Gloria Allred.

Tuesday
Jun112013

On Being Myy Own Grandmother

 

 

 If my grandmother were still alive she'd turn one hundred sixteen today.  If she were alive today she'd make me My-T-Fine Chocolate pudding with almonds, the kind you cook on top of the stove.  We'd stand there in front of her big gas cooker and I'd watch as she stirred the pudding with a big wooden spoon slowly making figure eights until the pudding got thicker and thicker, finally burping big bubbles of deep brown chocolate love.  She'd pour the hot molten chocolate into her cracked green bowl and put it in the fridge until a skin formed on the top.  When she decided it was cool enough and the skin was ready, she'd take the pudding out , scrape the skin carefully off onto a saucer and hand it to me saying, "Here, don't tell your brother I gave this skin to you.  He likes it, too."  I knew for that one moment, in that small warm kitchen with a cracked linoleum floor, I was special, I was loved.

There are days that I wish that instead of being a grandmother, I had a grandmother.  The past couple of weeks have had lots of wishing I had a grandmother days.  I have a stash of My-T-Fine Chocolate Pudding that my friend, Anita, sent me from Connecticut.  I'm going to go now and be my own grandmother...

Tuesday
Jun112013

Kitchen Sink Wheatberry Salad

One of the best things about the interwebs is the people we meet along the way.  Another great aspect is that we learn so much from each other.  A blogger named Heaven's Drifter is a fine example of both. I'll make a confession about my relationship with HD here.  It's something I've never told her.  I first noticed her in notes she left to another fellow blogger.  This other blogger had, in the past, been very very born again preachy with lots of prayers and bible verses in her entries etc..  Hey, that's all good if it's your belief system, but it's not mine, it doesn't interest me and so, I wandered away from that blog. I never read HD's blog because of where I first encountered her.  I figured with that blog name with Heaven, she was of the same religious ilk as the blogger where I first encountered HD.   I'd see HD notes here and there on a few different foodie type blogs.  I followed some notes and began reading her.  I never saw a biblical or religious reference in her entries.  I mean she often mentioned red stiletto heels and some worker guy named Armando who had the hots for her.  So I was wrong about the name thing. 

I did begin to see what HD and I had in common.  A love of food, fresh food, home cooked food, fresh garden goodness, taste achieved through understanding fresh herbs and fragrant spices.  The cool thing is that HD is a vegetarian.  I am really interested in vegetarianism, and would try to move that way except that I am married to a true carnivor.  I did tell John last night that if I still have teeth when  he dies, I'm turning Veggie.  He seemed unimpressed.  Following HD's example, I made my first Wheat Berry salad yesterday.  I used to buy it premade at Whole Foods when I lived near one, but there is none here.  Here's how I made the salad.   It is scrumptious.

1.5 cups of wheat berries soaked overnight, then covered and simmered for 2 hrs.

I carmelized  1 onion diced.

I added

2 stalks celery hearts fine diiced

1 orange bell pepper

1/2 raw onion fine dice

3/4 C toasted chopped walnuts

1/2 C Crasins (dried cranberries)

handful of fresh basil chiffonade

3/4 C Feta Crumbles

Salt and pepper

I dressed it with a combination of EVOO, a tiny splash of white balsamic, knifetip of dijon mustard and juice of half a lemon.  Adjust all variables to taste.

I'm telling you, it was fantastic, jam packed with taste, texture and crunch.  John refused to even taste it.