“I opened a book and in I strode. Now nobody can find me. I’ve left my chair, my house, my road, my town and my world behind me. I’m wearing the cloak, I’ve slipped on the ring, I’ve swallowed the magic potion. I’ve fought with a dragon, dined with a king and dived in a bottomless ocean. I opened a book and made some friends. I shared their tears and laughter and followed their road with its bumps and bends to the happily ever after. I finished my book and out I came. The cloak can no longer hide me. My chair and my house are just the same, but I have a book inside me.” –Julia Donaldson
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Life is a series of animals you love
When you adopt an animal into your life, an attachment forms. It can feel like a friendship or more parental in nature. Either way, over time that pet becomes part of your family.
During my 47 years on this planet, I have adopted more than two dozen cats and dogs. They came from all sorts of backgrounds: some were gifts, others were abandoned, abused or neglected, several were either living on the streets or placed up for adoption at a local shelter. One was born on a Vermont farm. One was born in the ceiling of the film department at my university. One was given into my care because his former owner became a victim of domestic violence. One joined my family after someone in her former family became allergic. Six belonged to boyfriends who moved in with me. Two were adopted from my best friend after she died.
Once in my home, however, each animal was properly cared for. Cuddled. Fed. Kept warm and healthy. Given tons of toys, condos, scratching posts and heating mats. Above all, they were loved.
Their lives were full of adventures — and misadventures. One was mentally ill. Two were hit by cars. Three liked to play escape artist. A few liked to chew on cords. One figured out a way to open doors. Two developed cancer. Several left with the boyfriends after breakups. Some were snugglers, others preferred to play. A few enjoyed both options.
Of the animals who died on my watch, the majority succumbed to illnesses common to the elderly. The oldest lived for 17 1/2 years (though I hope to break this record someday). The youngest perished at only 2; alas, she previously lived in a hoarding situation and was not very healthy when we adopted her.
At the moment, M and I have six kitties living with us. Four are black and two are calicos, all are female. One was the baby of the house but is now the eldest. Four sisters were from a single litter. The newest one just arrived in February. As a whole and individually, they drive us mad with their antics (GET OFF THE TABLE!) and slay us with their cuteness.
I am forever grateful to have, and have had, these creatures in my life:
Sandy
Bonkers
Princess
Sox
Jordan
Julia
Eastman
TJ Dakota
AP
Brat Child
Buddha
Spartacus Maximus
Loki
Gizmo
Autumn
Dany
Arya
Brigid
Georgina
Duncan
Sera
Mystery
Treacle
Trifle
Choux
Chai
PepperTo see pics of our brood, past and present, click here.
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Nostalgic blunders in the kitchen
Sometimes, the mistakes made when you’re young stick with you.
As a child, I generally didn’t eat pudding in plastic cups nor did I use instant pudding mixes that came together in five minutes flat. Instead, I cooked my pudding. I’d grab a wood spoon — always wood — out of the utensil drawer, climb onto a stepping stool and stand in front of the stove, stirring the mixture until it thickened into dessert. Then, I’d pour the pudding into cups or bowls and refrigerate, uncovered, which meant a thin “skin” would form on the top.
Now, if you read any “make from scratch” pudding recipe, it says to place parchment paper or plastic wrap on the surface of the pudd so a skin won’t form. Not doing so is a culinary blunder. But to me, the skin was the best part!
I also love the fudge that came from a maternal mistake. When I follow most modern recipes, the fudge turns out soft and smooth, which is fine (I guess). However, my mother wasn’t the best of cooks and apparently, she beat the mixture too long. After pouring it into the tin, she’d also (gasp) refrigerate the fudge instead of letting it cool at room temperature.
So growing up, fudge was always served in solid chunks or shards, cold, rich and just a bit gritty. And I loved it.
Do you ever feel nostalgia for the cooking errors of your youth?
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Mark my words v.3
As I’ve mentioned in past blog posts (seen here and here), I’m drawn to certain words. The attraction is often a word’s meaning or spelling, but sometimes I just like the way a word rolls off my tongue.
These are more of my favorites:
Marmoset Pangolin
Kaleidoscope
Petrichor
Soiree
Exquisite
Luna
Aglet
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Vaquita
Drambuie
Overmorrow
Blasphemy
Gallivant
Luminescence
Clandestine
Parallelogram
Haberdashery
Dastardly
Diabolical
Glockenspiel
Calamity
Fika
Epimetheus
Oddbody
What are some of yours?
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The Written Word returns
When Yahoo Groups shut down last month, I lost access to The Written Word, a mailing list I’d run for nearly 17 years. The contact information for hundreds of subscribers also disappeared as did my entire archive of past postings.
The concept for The Written Word was simple: email a daily quotation about writing, editing, journalism, poetry or publishing. It was basically the online version of a page-a-day calendar.
On weekends and vacations, I would prep future emails by scouring magazines and reading writing-related websites. I’d buy quotation collections secondhand and fill ’em with sticky notes, marking the pages that offered advice I wanted to share. Whenever I scrolled through social media, I’d save any interesting commentary from experts in the publishing business.
While my goal was to provide a bit of inspiration to aspiring and professional writers, I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that the quotations I shared sometimes helped me too.
As 2020 ended, I considered putting this project behind me. It was only after reading the many old emails I’d saved thanking me for sending the quotes that I decided to continue The Written Word. I may not be able to go out into the world and volunteer in person right now, but I can help others in this small way.
So, I’ve relaunched The Written Word on Tiny Letter. To subscribe, click here. And if you enjoy what you read, share it with others and encourage them to subscribe as well.
