bread pudding!

Last Thursday evening, I ventured downtown for a game of chemistry nerd trivia. Seriously! I belong to ACS and, roughly once monthly, the local section gets together, mostly to quaff a few beers and talk trash, but also for some shared science.
This time, the science was in the form of multiple-choice questions instead of a lecture by a guest speaker. Yeah!
Not that the lectures aren't fun! Au contraire, mon frer! Even for those few times I know nothing about the specific topic, I can almost always walk away with new knowledge under my belt.
If I had a belt.
Which I don't.
But I digress.
The reason the trivia usually draws a bigger crowd and is more "fun" is this: PRIZES! Woohoo! Not just for the top two scorers, nosirree bob! The bottom two scorers also are rewarded for their efforts!
I did not receive a prize on this occassion, scoring 11 out of 25. The top two were at 19 and 16. The bottom marks were at 5 and 7. I would have had another two points if I had done as I advise my students and gone with my "gut" - ah, yes, do as I say, not as I do, y'all!
Two of the questions I answered correctly were with thanks to the bfe, either directly or indirectly. Yes, knowing a physicist who rambles on a bit can be helpful, as you do tend to pick up a trinket or two of knowledge along the way. Double magic elements are, perhaps not so surprisingly, one of those jewels the magician had tossed into my brain's path; as it was bright and shiny, the magpie in my mind had glommed onto it and tucked it away to admire at its leisure. When the question arose, the magpie dug out the treasure, granting me a correct answer to add to my score. Sah-weet! A direct nod to the bfe!
The other question I attribute to his friendship, but indirectly. How so? Well, one evening while my students were taking a test, I had no reading material with me. ACK! What to do for the next seventy minutes??? Well, there IS a Periodic Table in the room... Oh, oh, I know! Let's make names using the symbols of the elements!

And, so, that is how I passed the time, starting with my name first, of course. Fluorine-Gold-Sulfur-Titanium-Sodium. Woohoo! Christina - hmm... no direct way, but if I added NOT lines (to reverse the letters), I had Carbon-Hydrogen-NOT Iridium-Titanium-Sodium. Okay! Sandra became NOT Arsenic-Neodimium-NOT Argon. Hmmm, not sure how many NOTs should be allowed in this game. Let's substitute Radium instead of that second NOT. Okay, okay, let's try Jeff: where are the elements with a "J"? Drats, where ARE the elements with a "J"????? Well, dagnabbit. There are ZERO elements with a chemical symbol containing that letter of the alphabet.
And so, at chemistry nerd trivia, when the question arose about missing letters of the alphabet on the Periodic Table, I knew that answer immediately.
No prizes for me there, though.
So off I wandered to the expensive steak house in the next block on Bay. I had heard they had a mighty tasty bread pudding there, so I would treat myself to a comfort-food dessert at a nice place with a red piano in the lounge. The young woman at the entrance even checked with the kitchen to be sure they were not yet out of their apparently famous dish. Very nice touch!
There were no tables available in the main dining room, which meant I would sit in the lounge. Yeah! And get spoiled rotten by the waitstaff there. Yeah! All whilst being regaled by lovely music played live, and lively, on the red piano. Yeah!
An hour and a half later, I issued forth from that lounge, full of delicious bread pudding and decaf coffee. I also had a bag in hand. Leftovers??? Not hardly! I ate that whole lovely, moist, raisin-dotted treat all by myself, thank you! But I did have the forethought to order one to go for the next morning, one to share with the peace guy.

all she wants to do is dance, dance, dance

Just north of Darien, on I-95, is this billboard.
I choose to believe that it was meant especially for me.
I have enjoyed its message for several years now as I bounce back from southern visits.
The bright orange-red beckons to me - to me - with its friendly push: "Looking for a sign?"
Well, maybe I am.
"You were born to dance."
Indeed I was.
I got the music - sweet, sweet music - in me.
I just need to turn up the volume.

wishing stars

...for impossible things...
still...

sometimes

Sometimes, the air is just too heavy.
This has been one of those times.
Caught in the vortex between the death of a dear friend and the death of my father, four years ago.

Sigh.

I so desperately need to sit and be held, to feel the warmth of a sympathetic shoulder and chest against my back, to feel the warmth of loving arms drawing me close.

sigh

Maybe I should plan on entering the Poetry Slam on Friday.
Even though I won't be held, I will get to loose some of this heavy air.
My heavy air merging and dissipating into the musings of others.
Maybe.

flashback from fb

One of the things I do on facebook these days is delete the "memories" that pop up.

This time, though, I found the three, separate, "memories" of posts from this day in 2013 painted too good a picture of my life then for me to simply delete them.

Instead, I have come back in time to post them here.

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Black Maria Film festival last Friday - thanks SCAD! Thanks to Jim Reed for encouraging me to go!

Yesterday, Brunch for Sarah Morgan's baby shower for family down at Tybee (Thanks Nancy! So good to see Jean Marie, Susan, and Jean there, too!), then "Hands of the Spirit" at Muse Arts Warehouse - both very uplifting!  Lunch at Kayak Kafe, featuring their $2 brownie and an Arnold Palmer drink (lemonade and iced tea) - and it was my first time there, so that counts toward my New Year's Resolution.  Sah-weet!  Afterward, I was "Singing In The Rain" at the Lucas - and the poster is MINE!  Woohoo!  Nice to see JinHi and Mark Rand there, too!  Then down to Tybee for a look at the beach in the half-moon light - ahhhh!

-------------

So, whatever happened to that poster I won at "Singing In The Rain"?

I gave it to Joe Buttner, for his apartment's bare walls.

In trade, he gave me a memorable adventure!

(smile!)

hopeful 4 a cure

This film resonated with me. I'm not usually a fan of horror movies, or zombie flicks, or scenes featuring repeated close-ups of decaying flesh. I don't mind shooting at zombies - oh, no, THAT is rather enjoyable and a great release of energy! I just don't want to watch them, on a large screen, for more than about 15 minutes.
That is decidely not the case here. I have seen "Warm Bodies" for my third time today. Yes, you read that correctly: my THIRD time. Thrice, I have paid good money to sit in a cinema and watch a movie about zombies. Odd, right? None the less, it IS a really good movie and it DOES have to lot to say about longing and loneliness and love.
Trust me, I tried to resist it, but the taglines kept tugging at my subconcious. "Cold body. Warm heart." "He's still dead, but he's getting warmer." "There's nothing hotter than a girl with brains." (Actually, I don't recall seeing that last one, but it's listed and sounded cool, so I reprinted it here.)
"Cold body. Warm Heart." Oh, really? Just how does THAT work in the land of zombies? Sounds like he might be a bit conflicted about his status. And who says he has a warm heart?
"He's still dead, but he's getting warmer." So, he's coming back to life, is that what is happening here? Apparently so. It's a surprise to the character, too, to realize while walking in the rain that the rain feels cold - but how could that be? He's dead, right? Right?
Apparently, he's just a little unwell, waiting for a change, waiting for a cure that he didn't even know existed.
I can totally relate.
He uses music - actual albums and a turntable from who knows where - to link him to the world he can't quite recall. He doesn't even remember his name, just the shadow of it. He doesn't recall how he ended up roaming the airport with all the other zombies, all the others in the same - or even worse - condition in this sad, new world. But he's set up camp in one of the airplanes, nesting there with all the items that have caught his eye during his rounds. He listens to Dylan and Springsteen and Waite and Orbison, songs of longing and loneliness and love.
He's even managed to find a zombie to call a friend. Someone to grunt at and have almost-conversations. Someone to look at and see himself reflected in their eyes. Someone to remind him that he was once human.
He knows he's in limbo, waiting, waiting.
I totally get that.
Limbo is a difficult place, neither here nor there, just... in between.
I miss touch. I miss kisses. I miss cuddling up with someone special.
Limbo.
For a while last summer, I was definitely getting warmer.
Then the holidays came and the warmth left and the cold returned.
R reminded me that the warmth is still inside me, waiting to be released.
I just hope I will get warm again soon.
I just hope that I will.
I just hope.

over 10,000 served! wow!

When I logged in to my blog, I found I'd had 10,011 views of my posts. That's incredible.
True, many of the views are drawn in by my titles, expecting something more lurid than they'll find here.
Those views still get counted.
True, many views are from spam sites, whether driven by bots or people. They're looking to plant their flags on my beach, that's all.
Those views, also, still get counted.
Sometimes, my family, whether by blood or by choice, find their way to my beach, to take a little stroll along the waters of my mind.
I enjoy those visits very much, even if a note is not tacked to a piece of driftwood for me.
Those views definitely get counted.

But I still say that this blog is written mostly for me. This particular beach, available to me any time of day or night, gives solace to my soul and entertainment of my thoughts. This beach is here for me to jump and shout, to rant and rave, to praise and be thankful. I carved out this bit of ether and called it mine: I did that.
I do hope visitors have enjoyed the view.
Believe me, more treasures will dot these shores. A bit of flotsam, too, maybe even some jetsam!

the glass is ALWAYS full

Full of what you want, maybe not. But you do not exist in a vacuum, Virginia. So, even though you cannot see it, you better believe that air is always present.
And air is definitely something. Air is slap-dap filled with molecules of nitrogen and oxygen and carbon dioxide and water vapor. Air has atoms of helium and argon and krypton, too, all noble gases that don't play with others.
Air may even have fine particulate matter if there's been a bonfire or a leafblower or a street sweeper in the vicinity of where you are. Sure, gravity will eventually settle those bits and pieces closer to the Earth, but for a bit of time, you get to breathe it all in.
Let's not forget that some of that particulate matter may be plant sperm. You heard me, I said "plant sperm". What did YOU think pollen was??

So, the next time you think something is missing from your glass of life, take another glance.
That glass is FULL.
And please remind me of this post the next time I'm going to a pity party.
Please.

life is fragile

Last night, or, rather, very early this morning, I slipped on a cobblestone and fell face forward onto the wooden steps I was about to walk up.
An hour later, a man walking down the stone steps in the same area slipped and fell, face forward, over the iron railing onto the cobblestones below.
My left leg, just below the knee, now has a very large bruise from its contact with the edge of the lowest step. The left side of my face, diagonally from just below the cheekbone to the forehead above the eyebrow, is mildly scraped and bruised from collision with the edge of the penultimate step. I ended up with a slightly bloody scrape on the leftmost part of my eyelid, with bruising and some swelling. Thanks to the quick actions of Martin, Hamil and Jose, three brothers who also happen to be athletic coaches, I'll be a bit sore and colorful for a while, but okay. A young nurse visiting from Tennessee also chanced to be on the porch of the Bayou Cafe; she verified, by close study of my eyes and asking me questions, that I was not concussed and didn't need an ambulance. What a relief to all of us there! And then I just felt embarrassed and stupid while I hung out on the porch in a chair, periodically switching the improvised ice bag from my face to my leg while sipping some water, while the three brothers reassured me and checked on me. The peace guy was checking on me, too, as we both listened to the music for the next hour.
The fallen man's companions rushed to his immobile side, the man face-down and splayed out on the uneven cobblestones of the riverside ramp. A young woman sat beside him, beseeching others to "please get him help. he's a doctor." A young man sat to the other side, holding his right hand and talking to him, trying to get him to squeeze his hand. Another young woman, who had maybe been behind the group, had rushed over to where I was and asked if i could "please do her a favor and call 911. The man over there fell off the stairs." So I did call, walking over to inform the 911 operator of what was going on and where exactly we were. The young man was also on the phone to 911. Meanwhile, the young woman who had come to me had gone back up to Bay Street and managed to flag down a policeman. And the ambulance was there in just another minute.
The man never moved.
I had walked back over to the Bayou's porch, out of the way of the paramedics, hoping the makeshift bandage on my face wouldn't attract their attention. I need not have been concerned about that. The man on the ground had all of their attention.
Then they lifted him into the ambulance and stopped its flashing lights and pulled over to the side for a few minutes. I'm sure they knew life on the porch had stopped, waiting to see what was happening. To belay our fears, they turned the flashing lights and siren back on and raced on up the ramp to the street and away! But I don;t think the man was alive. I had heard the gargling noises and rasping breathing while I was on the phone summoning help. I had seen the rush of fresh blood below his face when the noises stopped.
Two falls, one going up wooden steps, one going down stone stairs.
Life is fragile.

February beach

What a pretty picture! All it needs is you and me and a Treasure.
Said as he points to the right of the birds.
Sometimes, he gets it really right.
Very nice.

artificial knees

It was to be Orange Crush weekend at Tybee, but I had already committed to joining the baseball girls duo for the play last night. "Til Beth Do Us Part" was a comedy, held over for this second weekend, and a theatre friend was directing it. She had also invited me to come over for the play, so, on a rainy Friday afternoon, I did so, arriving early to beat the Crush. In fact, I was way TOO early!
So, to pass the time, I dined at a long-time family favorite, the Sugar Shack. As a kid, this was a must-stop-here site on our way home from a day at the beach, playing in the waves and getting bronzed. Yummy malts! But no malts this time. I dined on chicken tenders and fries, relishing the teacher discount offered by the two students working there. Lagniappe!
While there, I read the alternate entertainment paper, published on Thursdays, so it was only a day old. Once upon a time, one had to subscribe to the local newspaper to get this supplement; now, it was available for free. Most of the time, I had easier access to the other entertainment listings, so it was actually rare that I Had my hands on a "DO." This was one of those times.
So, I read about the play I had come to see at Tybee. And I read various other articles, too, including the one about the next day's Savannah International Animation Film Festival, which I already had bought my all-day pass. I also phoned the director to get directions to the play site, but spoke to my retired swimmer instead, who pretty much knows how to get anywhere. Seriously. And it was really nice to talk to her! She and I don't see much of each other, but we used to, until she partnered up. You know how that goes.
Eventually, the rain ceased and I went on to the theatre-cum-arthouse to meet up with my friends. What fun!! There were even singing commercials between acts!!! If you ever get the urge to catch one of the plays at Tybee, do yourself a favor and GO. The commercials are worth the price of admission!
So, the next day, today, I'm was off to the animation festival, bright and early. Early??? Yes, indeed, the festival and talks were to only be on a single day this year, rather than the two-day event of last year. To fit everything in, the start time was - shiver - 0830 on a Saturday morning. So, there I was, to catch as many of the day's films as I could before the fundraiser I was attending that afternoon.
And guess who was also there? The retiree! What a great surprise! We watched the films and enjoyed the speaker, then we adjourned for lunch at the WhistleStop Cafe at the Savannah Visitor's Center. Then we walked back over for the festival, where I caught another hour of new shorts before I had to leave. Upon my return about two hours later, I caught the last hour or so of animation, then she and I bid our adieus.
Now, as I was going through the DO, reading the comics and filling in the crossword puzzle and the other games, a curious coincidence arose. The scrambled word puzzle's clue, as seen above, dealt with artificial knees (which the retiree now has!) and the answer was "joint venture." Which is close enough to my magic word for me! It's as if she and I were destined to reconnect!
What a great couple of days it's been for seeing friends: the retirees, the baseball duo, the bfe, and the peace Guy. Wonderful!

Tuesday with the Gnats

Nothing like a ball game to set things wrong a-right. Or perhaps it was the company, too. Yesterday had been a bit hard on me, so I needed a distraction, preferably with folks who didn't know I was job-hunting. Why? So no one would ask me and remind me that my days doing what I love were drawing to a close in another few weeks.
Willie and Arthur would welcome me with open arms, I knew. And they did, both being present on that spring evening. And we sat and talked baseball and gardening and the past winter. Neither of them said a word about this coming year and the possibility of me not teaching. Not one word about that. Life was good again.
The mother and daughter duo showed up for the last few innings, just in time to do their thing with Gnat. Cool! I bopped on down and caught up with them, admiring some of the players' fine tushes, too. Oh, yeah! We even made plans to see a play on Friday together, down at the beach, directed by a friend of mine I haven't seen for a while. Very nice!
Then the game was over, my boys of summer winning this game for me. Woohoo! That was especially nice as it was the first home game I'd been able to attend. The other three games passed by without me, as I had too many other events drawing me away.
I wasn't able to attend tonight's game, either, though I could have caught the last hour after class. Instead, I sped downtown for the French super-hero film, "Judex". Totally worth the trip! Not only was the protagonist a fighter of evil, he was also a magician, able to free white doves from any scarves or pockets at hand. Very nice - I do so enjoy magic! Thanks, Jim!

tomorrow's gonna be a brighter day

She told me she believes me to be one of the best teachers at the university, not just in the department.
She told me she had heard about me before she was even hired at the university.
She told me she knows how hard it can be to get recognition from the department, and how frustrating that can be.
She told me she knows how much of myself I give to the university, the department, the students.

She had felt the need to explain to me why I was not contacted about my job application. She wanted to assure me that the reason had nothing to do with my abilities, perceived or actual.
The problem was with the timing, not with me.
By the time the committee had received my application, they had already waded through those in receipt and found three possible candidates. Those candidates had been notified and interviews had been scheduled.
When more applications came in, the committee determined to wait to read them until after the initial candidates had interviewed and presented their sample lectures. If none of them were deemed worthy, the committee would resume the search.
I told her I understood. I told her I appreciated her letting me know and her reassuring me about my place as a teacher, if not in the department.
And I do understand.
But I want to stay.
Her words brought that back to me in full force: I want to stay.
I have spent much energy in bettering myself as a teacher these past three years and I continue to do so.
But that is not the reason I want to stay.
I have spent much energy in making the course of study into a strong program, a program in which the students derive the most benefit from both the lectures and the labs, using each to reinforce the other.
But that is not the reason I want to stay.

THIS is the reason.

but I swear it was in self defense

On March 29th, I went to hear The Wailers as part of the Savannah Music Festival. I danced for more than an hour! They had everyone get up for their fourth song and most of us STAYED up, too. Fabulous concert! Especially the second hour, when they concentrated on their hits, rather than the songs on their latest album. One of those hits was "I Shot the Sheriff".
Every time I hear "I Shot the Sheriff", I recall my father. He and I were riding in the car together, maybe going to Augusta, I don't recall our destination. I was in the early years of my stint in the Navy, I think. Those details are bit fuzzy.
But I definitely recall that it was a warm, blue-sky day and the windows of the car were wide open. Daddy's dark, wavy hair was caught in the breeze of our passage, his left arm atop the bottom lip of the open window. And he was enthusiastically singing along with Eric Clapton on the radio. What a fabulous moment, crystallized in the deep folds of my brain, blue sky, blowing hair, and a deep sense of contentment.
I miss that with him.
I miss him.
He would have been 77 today.
Happy birthday, Daddy.

when pigs... dive?

After dancing along to the sounds of Lake Street Dive, I bopped across the bridge, unsure of my destination, just enjoying the sunny day. You know? Too much energy to stay put, at least not yet.
I called my stepmom, to see if she might be able to meet for slunch or a movie or a chat. No, not this time dear, she was babysitting the two grandsons.
No problem, I would just keep driving until I found where I was going.
Wherever that happened to be!
Maybe I would go to the Wendy's where she and I sometimes met for dinner?
No, not this time.
Maybe I would continue to Bluffton to the erstwhile Sea Turtle Cinema and environs?
Hmmm... nah, I wasn't feeling it.
What to do?
Hey! I haven't been to The Pink Pig in a while! And I actually have some cash on me for a change!
But was it enough???
It was!
That ten-spot bought me a bbq pork sandwich with fries and a side of coleslaw. I drank water, so I would have enough to include a tip for the waitress.
Ahhhhh... that Gullah bbq sauce is THE BOMB! Better than ketchup on the fries!

STEM puns, STEM puns, can't get enough of STEM puns!

We'll never run out of math teachers because they always multiply.

When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U C L A.

The math professor went crazy with the blackboard. He did a number on it.

The professor discovered that her theory of earthquakes was on shaky ground.

A thief fell and broke his leg in wet cement. He became a hardened criminal.

When the boy stole corn from the garden, could he be charged with stalking?

The dead batteries were given out free of charge.

If you take a laptop computer for a run, you could jog your memory.

... to be continued....

laundry day - see you there - underthings - tumbling.

Monday: Wash Day
God, help me wash away all my selfishness and vanity, so I may serve you with perfect humility through the week ahead.

Tuesday: Ironing Day
Dear God, help me iron out all the wrinkles of prejudice I have collected through the years so that I may see the beauty in others.

Wednesday: Mending Day
O God, help me mend my ways so I will not set a bad example for others.

Thursday: Cleaning Day
God, help me to dust out all the many faults I have been hiding in the secret corners of my heart.

Friday: Shopping Day
O God, give me the grace to shop wisely so I may purchase eternal happiness for myself and all others in need of love.

Saturday: Cooking Day
Help me, dear God, to brew a big kettle of brotherly love and serve it with clean, sweet bread of human kindness.

Sunday: The Lord's Day
O God, I have prepared my house for you. Please come into my heart so I may spend the day and the rest of my life in your presence.

********************************** ********************

i thank you God for most this amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everyhting which is natural which is infinite which is yes - e.e. cummings

memento of a lost parent

I've had this key ring since I was 19.
(Pause for effect.)
I've had it, and used it constantly, since 1977, when I received it from Mama as part of my birthday package. I was in the Navy, attending school in the great hairy armpit of the world. The best part about being in that locale was its proximity to Chicago. I could ride the train and be back in civilization in an hour. I did, too, every weekend.
The key ring was called a Jeans Ring, according to the little round, brass disc attached to the ring. It was designed to be easily hung on a beltloop, so you could jingle jangle around as you walked. How very COOL was that! Totally fabulous!!!
I still like to hang it on a beltloop and deliberately swish a bit more when I walk, making my own music as a I travel in the halls, down the sidewalk, around town. You bet!
Very fun!
I'm always reminded of a nursery rhyme that goes something like this:
with rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes.
Ahem.
Let's get back on topic, shall we?
So, my friend Thomas has a special key ring, roo. It had belonged to his dad.
An outstanding member of the League of Savannah Bloggers, Thomas wrote recently about that key ring. I say "recently", meaning "sometime this calendar year". I've been meaning to address his post for ... um, almost three months??? ... but clearly have not yet.
I had tried unsuccessfully to post a comment of support for his musings, but the site would not allow.
That's okay. I have other ways to contact that friend. And I did.
And I encouraged him to maybe add a photo, for posterity, for memory's sake.
And he did.
It's been twenty years since he first used that key ring. Well, I keep saying "key ring", but he is acutally only talking about the key fob, not the ring itself. His dad, who must have worked at Gulfstream, had received the fob to commemorate the flight of a special plane. The fob actually CONTAINS a disc of metal which had been PART of that plane. Very special!
In December, which marked the end of the second decade of his dad's passing, Thomas didn't reattach the fob when it fell off the key ring. He hasn't discarded the item, but it no longer rides in his pocket daily.
Maybe, in another eight years, I'll have that distance from death.