If Only They Could Tweet

Posted on January 17, 2017 by Maggie C

George Washington, 1st US president
@realGeorgeWashington
“If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.” #FreedomTrumpsSheep

Abraham Lincoln, 16th US president
@HonestAbe
“Don’t interfere with anything in the Constitution. That must be maintained, for it is the only safeguard of our liberties.” #UGottaReadIt

Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US president
@TeddyR
“To announce that there must be no criticism of the president… is morally treasonable to the American public.” #SNL #MerylStreep

Franklin Delano Roosevelt, 32nd US president
@FDR
“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.” #EleanorActuallySaidThat #FLOTUS_Rocks

Calvin Coolidge, 30th US president
@SilentCal
“The government of the United States is a device for maintaining in perpetuity the rights of the people, with the ultimate extinction of…”

Calvin Coolidge, 30th US president
@SilentCal
“all privileged classes.” #HashtagsAreSilly

Dwight D Eisenhower, 34th US president
@Ike
“In most communities it is illegal to cry ‘fire’ in a crowded assembly. Should it not be considered serious international misconduct to…”

Dwight D Eisenhower, 34th US president
@Ike
“manufacture a general war scare in an effort to achieve local political aims?”
#thebuckstopshere #bargainingchips

Harry S Truman, 33rd US president
@GiveEmHellHarry
“It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit.” #YouCanQuoteMe #ButGiveMetheCredit

James Madison, 4th US president
@DollysHusband
“Liberty may be endangered by the abuse of liberty, but also by the abuse of power.” #WhatsAHashtagAnyway

Warren G. Harding, 29th US president
@WobblyWarren
“America’s present need is not heroics but healing; not nostrums but normalcy; not revolution but restoration.” #IHateMyNickname

William Howard Taft, 27th US president
@OldBIll
“We live in a stage of politics, where legislators seem to regard the passage of laws as much more important than the results of their…”

William Howard Taft, 27th US president
@OldBIll
“enforcement.” #LegislateFirstAskQuestionsLater #SAD

Woodrow Wilson, 28th US president
@TheSchoolmaster
“America was established not to create wealth but to realize a vision, to realize an ideal – to discover and maintain liberty among men.”

Weekend Coffee Share (1/8/17)

Posted on January 8, 2017 by Maggie C

#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.

If we were having coffee, I’d advise you to bring a sweater when you come over. The house was 59 degrees (F) when I woke up this morning. It has since warmed up to 59.5. This is despite my heat pump running nonstop.

I don’t really understand how heat pumps are supposed to work. Something about exchanging inside air and outside air, but with the outside air at 33 degrees, I’m not sure I want it being pumped into my house. Nor do I want 90 degree air coming into my 88 degree home in the summer.

The user’s manual for the unit says something about how the system doesn’t work that great when it’s really cold or really hot outside. Seems to me, those would be the times you would most need it. I must be missing something about how the heat pump works. Mostly – right now – what I’m missing is heat.

Okay, I’m done complaining about creature comforts. For now.

If we were having coffee, I would update you on my kitchen remodel. It has progressed from, “This will be a fun challenge,” to “Oh my God! What have I gotten myself into?!?”

I decided to replace the double doors on the utility closet at the end of my cabinets with a bi-fold door to allow for better visibility and access. I will likely redo the kitchen floor in the near future, so I figured I might as well remove the multiple layers of flooring where I’ll be installing a sill for the bi-fold. The build up from one floor being laid over its predecessors over the years has accumulated to about an inch in depth, so it’s been like an archeological dig getting to the original surface.

I removed the facing at the base of the closet and discovered a mass of what appears to be old wall insulation that has likely housed many a generation of rodents over the past half century.

Without much further investigation, I cleaned all of that out with my shopvac (I haven’t looked yet to see if I sucked up any mousies into the vacuum). Then I peeked under the closet to see what else I might find.

At the very back of the space, there are two little holes leading to the outer wall of the house. They are cute little holes. In fact they look kind of like the holes drawn in cartoons, where cute little whiskered animals live behind the walls.

Today, I’m going to seal off those cute little holes and remove the boards beneath the adjacent cabinets along that wall. I suspect that entire area has served as a superhighway for rodents over the decades.

Please, have another cup of coffee. I’m in no hurry to get to that particular task. Maybe I’ll position my cat at the entrance to the kitchen in case any current residents become displaced from their nests. The cat would love to make new friends. Unfortunately that’s about all he would do with them.

I wonder if mice like coffee. Excuse me while I set out an extra cup. Do you suppose they take cream? Or just drink it black?

What? You’re leaving now? Well, okay. Watch your step. We wouldn’t want you squishing any of my cat’s new pets.

I wish you a fantastic, warm and vermin-free week!

Supercize Me

Posted on January 3, 2017 by Maggie C

Today’s Daily Post Discover Challenge asks us to celebrate our Superpower.

I don’t generally contemplate superheroes and superpowers. I didn’t read comic books as a kid, and I didn’t play with superpeople action figures.

If there were superhero video games – actually if there were any video games – in those long ago days, I was oblivious to their existence. The only game I knew that employed a joystick was Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots.

I do recall watching Batman and Robin on TV, but the only real superpower they seemed to have was the ability to slide down a fire pole and arrive at the bottom dressed in full crime-fighting regalia. I don’t recall ever seeing how they got back into their civvies after saving Gotham City and returning to the bat cave. Maybe they shinnied back up the pole, gathering back the bits and pieces of clothing from where they had been shucked on the way down.

It would appear that superheroes don’t generally get to choose their special powers. Spiderman was accidentally bitten by a radioactive spider. He may have wanted to grow up to be a human cannonball, but no – the errant arachnid consigned him to scaling walls and spewing dental floss from his palms.

Superman was born with his powers, which weren’t even “super” on his planet of birth; they just appeared so to the non-super types here on Earth. Wonder Woman’s powers were gifts from the Greek gods. I doubt she got to pick her gifts. You know how Greek gods are, always wanting things done their way.

As to my own superpower… well, I have the power to see things that aren’t there. No, I don’t hallucinate. Let me rephrase a bit. You know those intuitive types of people who can see past facades and insincerities? It is often said of them that they see situations and people for what they truly are. I, on the other hand, see things for what they’re not.

It usually starts innocently enough. I’ll be going about my own business when something random unexpectedly catches my eye. A thought bubble appears above my head that says, “Hmmm.” Which is shorthand (or short-brain?) for “That looks interesting. I wonder what I could not do with that.” And then I turn it something it’s not.

My superpower takes hold, and suddenly my paint pants become wall art:

or my yard debris turns into a wood carving:

or a sheet of carbon paper becomes a photo series:

One might think this superpower of mine is not very useful for fighting crime, evil and injustice everywhere. And one would be correct. But it does fight boredom, taking-oneself-too-seriousness and creative block.

I think I should get a costume. And a sidekick. And an alter ego moniker. Hmmm…

Just call me the Hmmm-inator. Or not.

Light Bulb Moment

Posted on December 29, 2016 by Maggie C

One of my favorite posts from 2016 was one I wrote for a second blog of mine, Glass Manifestations. I won’t be posting any recap for the year on that site, mostly because I only averaged a little over one post per month (excluding the month I participated in the “A through Z” challenge). I hope to be more active with that blog next year, but in the meantime I wanted to repost this story from April 12, 2016 for my Stanza readers. I hope you enjoy it.

Light Bulb Moment

So I had a “light bulb moment” the other day. You know, that moment when you have a sudden realization, an enlightenment of sorts, when the metaphorical light bulb turns on in your brain and you say, “Aha!”

Oh wait… that’s an “aha moment.” But anyway, that light bulb moment when you are struck with a sudden insight or inspiration that leads you on to new discoveries?

Yeah… that’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about a real light bulb. You know… bulbous, light-producing… something that you screw into a socket so that someone doesn’t come along and stick their finger in it. That kind of light bulb.

Okay, on to my moment. I bought a light bulb that is supposed to have a 27 year life span. I can’t remember how much I paid for it. That memory is probably repressed to protect me from the trauma.

Nor can I remember what I was thinking when I decided that I needed this acme of amperage, this wonder of wattage, this lion of lumens.

Perhaps I just felt that, at some point in my dotage, I might want to switch on a lamp, and I could rest in ease knowing that my trusty light bulb would be there waiting to brighten my day. Or night.

So here I was, in possession of this almost ageless light bulb, and – as luck would have it – there was a burnt out bulb in one of my lamps. A perfect opportunity to begin my decades-long relationship with Brighton. (I figured if we were going to be together that long, the light bulb should have a name.)

I pulled Brighton out of my light bulb storage area (I seem to have quite a collection of light bulbs), and began wrestling with the packaging that was doggedly defending Brighton from harm. With a sudden shift of surrender, the packaging gave way, the bulb sprang free…

and began its unstoppable freefall to the hardwood floor.

The bulb crashed to the floor. My dog Chules came running to see what happened. I began to have visions of doggie blood spurting everywhere if Chules stepped on shards of Brighton. In one swift motion, I pushed Chules aside and bent down to assess the damage.

There lay Brighton. In one piece. On the floor. Where he landed after a four foot long plunge.

I tenderly picked Brighton up, held him to my ear, and gently shook him to see if I could hear that tinkling little noise that light bulbs make when their filament has broken. Mind you, with Brighton being the Superbulb that he is, I don’t even know if he has a filament. But I figured no sound is good sound.

I took Brighton to my bulb-less lamp and with trepidation screwed him into the socket. Holding my breath, I reached with quaking hand to flip the switch.

And then there was light!!!! Brighton’s alive! Metaphorically speaking, of course.

As I sit here basking in Brighton’s warm glow, I have every confidence that we will be together for a long, long time.

Hey, wait! Did someone turn out the lights? Brighton…?

Brighton?!?

Look What I Found!

Posted on December 28, 2016 by Maggie C

This week’s Discover Challenge at The Daily Post asks us to look back at our blog posts for this past year and find a way to build on or synthesize our best work of 2016.

My best work? Well, having only managed a single post for most of the months this year, the “best” of it becomes a rather short list. Nonetheless, I’ve taken on the challenge of using lines from previous posts to create a “found poem.” Here it is:

Glass Scraps

Things aren’t always what they seem.
You can’t sleep on glass, you know.
Does it matter what smashed it?
I really don’t know how it feels to sleep in a ditch,
having never done so. That I recall.

Chewing on lead… bad idea.
What? You think?
Tell that to your Scrabble companions!

Stuff seems to seek us out at every port,
clinging to us like barnacles on a boat.
Take hostas for example. You know,
those green leafy plants that don’t look like ferns.
They do have a certain je ne sais quoi about them, no?
Or maybe a coagulation of gunked up motor oil
stuck to the floor of a mechanic’s garage.
You know how that is, right?

I never goosed anything, quantum or otherwise.
Since I’m too impatient to do all of that,
that session was cut short once the rock shrapnel
began pummeling the inside lining of my kiln.
Okay, I made that last part up.
This is starting to sound like that twine theory stuff.
Much better than the exploding rock episode.

So what is the significance of all of this?
If you can’t stand the heat,
don’t touch the tip of the soldering iron.
But where’s the fun in that?

If Dart has instilled in you a crippling fear of Tiffany lamp shades,
and since that seemed boring as all get out –
well… his work here is done.

The Daily Post’s Discover Challenge: Retrospective

short sidewalk

Posted on December 17, 2016 by Maggie C

faithful ‘til the end
whereupon you left me for
a red-dressed hydrant

Enquiring Minds

Posted on December 6, 2016 by Maggie C

Way back in another lifetime, like about 25 years ago, I wrote a bi-weekly column for a tiny local newspaper. The focus was mostly about my family and the joys of raising two bright, beautiful daughters; daughters who had lots of questions, most of which I had no viable answer to.

Here is a column I wrote in 1992 that demonstrates the quandary of fielding questions about life, love, and the pursuit of wind-blown hats.

Twenty Questions

“Mommy, why is the sky blue? What makes grass?” We are barely ten miles out on a 60-some mile long trip. The truck’s radio is broken and there are four of us stuffed into the cab, with no room for the girls to lie down and sleep. I think Sarah saves up her best questions for just such occasions. I’m not sure why the sky is blue, but there are two things I know for certain: this will be a long, long trip and I will have a headache when it is over.

Sarah has entered the “how come” phase of life, where questions comprise roughly 75 percent of her conversation. Another 20 percent consists of demands for personal services such as feeding (immediately), dressing (in pink, if you please) and putting her hair into an assortment of Barbie-esque hairdos. The final five percent of her speech is a mishmash of statements ranging from “I’m not going to be your friend anymore and you can’t come to my birthday!” to “I love everyone in the whole world!”

Watching television with my preschool daughters has become a trying ordeal. As soon as the character appears on the screen I am barraged with questions. “Mommy, who is that? What is he doing?” And most importantly, “Is he a good guy or a bad guy?”

Every time lettering appears on the screen or a commercial comes on, Sarah seems to have a Pavlovian-programmed reflex to turn to me and inquire, “Is the show over now?”

It’s even more challenging if I tune in a program for the girls to watch and then leave the room. Absence is no excuse for not having all the answers. “Why was the little girl laughing? Was that her Mommy in the car?”

“I don’t know, Sarah. I didn’t watch the show and I have no idea who or what you are talking about.”

“Oh.” Sarah waits a few seconds. “Were they good guys or bad guys?”

Maybe I should feel honored that my daughters seem to regard me as omniscient, but that’s not really the case. Sometimes I flunk out on seemingly simple questions.

“Why is the sun shining on us so hot?” Sarah asked one day.

“Because it’s a hot, sunny day,” I said. Made sense to me.

“No! That’s not why!” Sarah glowered at me, as if I had told her she couldn’t wear pink anymore or something equally repugnant. I guess I could have gone into an explanation of the earth’s position relative to the sun, or theories of global warming, but I have a feeling none of that would have been the right answer either.

To compound the problem, Emily is into imitating, so if Sarah starts up playing Twenty Questions, Emily pipes in with 20 of her own. Only Emily adds a new twist to the game. She precedes each question with: “Mommy?” I wait for the question to follow. Instead she repeats herself: “Mommy??” I turn toward her to let her know that I am listening. Not good enough. “Mommy!?”

“What!” I finally respond. Only after my verbal response will she proceed with her question, if she still remembers it. If she doesn’t remember what she was going to ask, she starts over: “Mommy?”

Sometimes the questions are entertaining. They show a unique form of logic with which only young children are blessed. One windy day, the family was on an outing and my husband, who wears a hat to protect his balding scalp from the elements, was having a difficult time keeping the hat on his head. Emily was delighted to watch her daddy repeatedly chase his cap down the street.

That evening as I was brushing Emily’s hair, she asked, “Mommy?”

“What?” I responded quickly. I’m learning, you see.

“Why doesn’t Daddy have any hair?”

“Why don’t you ask Daddy?” I suggested wearily, having fielded my quota of questions for the day.

Apparently remembering the day’s earlier activities, Emily turned to her father and asked, “Daddy, did the wind blow your hair away, too?”

Even I couldn’t wait to hear the answer to that one.

The Daily Post Discover Challenge: Tough Questions