Confession

I killed a cricket. It was an accident, I swear!!

You see it happened like this.

A cricket got into the small room where I hoard my craft supplies. 

Now, it's easy to tell if a cricket is inside or outside. Outside crickets sound gentle, like water in a stream or waves on a shore - except much higher pitched. 

Inside crickets sound like alarms or a high creaking call of HELP! HELP! HELPHELPHELP! or some other very urgent noise.

HOWEVER, if the cricket is right outside an open window, one might mistake it for a cricket inside the house.

So I decided to close the craft room window - just in case the cricket was really outside,

Which knocked over a large potted amaryllis...And that spilled dirt all over the floor and the shelf below the window...and the stool next to the shelf that held a tool box...and the box on the floor full of craft supplies...and the plastic jar of marbles also fell.

The cricket shut up.

 I cleaned up.

The next night, I heard the cricket in the dining room, right at the bottom of the stairs.

So I went downstairs to find the poor little fellow, trap him under a cup or something and return him to the wild.

When I turned on the light, the cricket stopped chirping. I got a flashlight.

That little bug sounded like he was right under my feet but I could not see him at all. So I moved chairs, a bench, the pretty painted box I keep under the bench.

Bill came along to see what was up and we turned on the light and there - lying splayed on the floor -  was a sad dead cricket.

I have heard that a cricket on the hearth is GOOD luck. I have heard that crickets' chirps foretell rain or a change in the weather or tell us the temperature.

Now, I worry that this cricket has a mate somewhere in my house who will chew holes in all my stockings and socks.

Or even worse, that someone I love will meet an early demise.

Luckily, it was NOT a Sunday. Killing a cricket in your house is bad luck but it is REALLY bad luck if you kill a cricket on a Sunday.

But, it was an accident. I didn't know the poor little bug was there. He probably (it was a guy because according to the Internet, only guy crickets chirp.) fell off the box and I dropped the box on him.  

Since I killed this poor tunesmith, I feel unsettled, anxious, even unworthy - as if I cursed myself by being careless with one of my fellow earthlings. 

How do I regain my equilibrium? I can't replace a cricket.

There are a hundred thousand crickets outside our house. All singing or munching or mating or hopping. Why should I feel bad about the one cricket life that I snuffed out by being a big clumsy human?

There are millions of trees in this country. And millions of them are on fire. Hey! It was an accident. it is always an accident.

There are billions of people in this world. 900,000 have died from a novel virus. No one wanted them to die. No one got them sick on purpose. 

Does it make sense to draw a parallel between my accidental killing of a bug to the death of hundreds of thousands of people? Probably not.

Yet, if I had been a little more careful, less clumsy, the crickets outside would have one more singer.

If we took better care of our earth, the conditions in the West might not be so ripe for fire. 

If... well, if we had paid attention five months ago, perhaps some of those dead people would be with us today.

I killed a cricket. Forgive me. 

WHY Would You Say That?

President Certainpersonio (I stole that name from Charles Dickens) continues to fill the airwaves with "diverting" comments.  Don't ask what these comments are - check your favorite news site, unless it is Fox. What we might ask is "why?" And that is the theme of today's post.

Honestly, why do we say half the things we say?  Since we have been confined to our quarters, I have discovered that I speak without rhyme or reason much of the time. I am a talker. I am not alone. Still, a lot of what I say does not need to be said.

Some of these comments are observations on life. My audience of one has heard them all many times before so what purpose can repeating them have?

Then there are the times when I interrupt a conversation because
a) a grammar mistake has been made
b) I heard a mispronunciation
c) I am sure I know more about the subject than the speaker does
d) that reminds me of a story that has nothing to do with the conversation at hand
e) I have no interest in the subject
f) I don't agree with the ideas expressed
g) I want to change the subject altogether
i) I take the subject personally and it pisses me off

Yep. I inflict all of these tortures on my husband who is confined with me. He deserves your sympathy.

We ALL do that. We do it ALL the time. Most of us want to be the Talker in Chief. In normal conversation, where the discussion is really a way to socialize and connect, these practices are annoying if overdone but they are pretty harmless.

HOWEVER, when we want to instruct or talk about important actions or ideas, or even discuss our feelings, these habits can be used for all kinds of reasons.

We grab a tangential idea in order to take control of the conversation.

We correct the speaker as a way to undermine his or her authority.

We want to distract from events or behaviors to protect our own standing or to protect others from the repercussions of their behavior.

We want to sabotage the purpose of the conversation - coming to an agreement, for example, or moving forward with a policy.

We want to turn the tables, especially when our behavior has been below par.

We hope that nothing gets decided so we don't have more work to do.

I could go on and on and on and on...

You and I can not control what all the Certainpersonios in the world say.  We can keep a watch on our own tongues.  Before we enter the fray, or throw something into the conversational pile, we should probably ask ourselves why.

 When a discussion becomes emotional, then we really have to consider our comments.

People can not un-hear things once we say them.  Consider why before you speak. You could save yourself untold grief.

Don't be a Certainpersonio!

Words to Avoid When Reviewing Books - M-Z

I am feeling judge-y these days and have already embarrassed myself with late night scolding texts to a young friend - why am I even telling you this? Confession is good for the soul!!??

So I will be judgmental with words.

The final installment of over-used or unnecessary positive adjectives.

M
magical - (Bonk, bonk, bonk - head bonking)
magnificent - I actually like this word but the subject needs to be larger than life to make this adjective fit.
memorable
momentous - Quotes are momentous; events are momentous, It is a very rare book that is momentous;  - "Origin of Species" might be one.
mystical

N
nice - Nice is a nice word and is great for every day conversation. But books do not want to be called "nice", anymore than your blind date does.
nefarious - Just don't use this word unless you use it tongue in cheek. It's not even a positive adjective.
nutty- One person's "nutty" is another person's annoyingly frantic.

O
overwhelming - I have never seen this word used in a review but I can imagine how someone might think it is a compliment.  In pandemic times, we need less overwhelming-ness, all around.
O is not the best letter for compliments. I must resist the urge to type in any "O" adjective that comes to mind - olfactory? old-fashioned?
obvious   DON'T call a book obvious without just cause - obviously.


P
perky - Unless the book is running for Junior Miss or Mister, skip this adjective.
pretty - No, no, no, no...
popular - See "perky"



Q
quintessential - It rolls off the tongue, right? Don't use it.
quixotic - I always use this incorrectly. Its main meaning is "wildly idealistic". A secondary meaning is "capricious". The root of the word is the foolishly idealistic character, Don Quixote. BUT I always think of quicksilver or mercury, hence hard to pin down. Words are amazing.

Q words are few. That's why the letter gets ten points in Scrabble. (I get points every time I work Scrabble into a post.) (Not really.) (But I do love that game.)

R
rip roaring - Please, just don't
rootin' tootin' - Even dropping the apostrophes and putting back the "g"s will not make this combo acceptable
righteous - This word's time has passed.

S
So very many "s" words!
startling It's a new favorite. Think carefully before using it.
scary? Hmm, sometimes "scary" is all one can say.

A lot of "s" adjectives sound like they belong in a reference letter that you might write for a former student or an old co-worker. Are you reviewing the book or recommending it for a position? You decide.

T
terrific
tremendous
tree-mendous - I am not a big fan of puns.

U
unusual -  Calling something unusual is not helpful.


V
valuable 
victorious - I have seen this! Is the book a new word spewing champion?


W
warm - Use this as a verb, please. Verbs have more power.
whimsical - How does this word weary me? Let me count the ways.



X
If you find an "x" adjective, use it freely.

Y
youthful - Here is an exception to avoiding this word. If I ever publish a book, please mention the author's "youthful" voice or outlook or approach. I am feeling old these days.
yummy - No, not even for a cook book


Z
zany - See "nutty"

Sunday Selfie - The 9th year - On Top of Everything Else

NOTE:   Hi! I wrote this post awhile back BEFORE being tested for the virus and found negative! YAY! Before my brush with aging eye problems - sigh! and before being able to meet with my very best friends that I am not blood-related to, Suzanne and Doris - separately! Blessings! And life! The world keeps turning.

The 9th Year

For a lot of us, this has already been an awful, awful year.

My husband and I started with a very pleasant cruise from which we brought home some persistent, nasty, head cold with cough. (COVID-19 had not yet raised its ugly head except in far off China.)

That bug lasted five or six weeks and we had just returned to "normal" when the world stopped. In its tracks. We had to remain isolated for the good of the realm.

THEN, just about the time when we began to cautiously consider venturing outside, a policeman murdered a black man and the whole disgusting event was caught on video. The country went into a period of mourning and righteous rage from which we have not emerged.

Many days, when I wake up, I weigh the pros and cons of living.  Five months of waiting for normal have sapped my energy. The lethargy, although understandable and certainly NOT specific to me, still strikes me as overkill, self-indulgent self-pity. I am not judging anyone else here.

And then I realized something.  This is a 9th year for me. It's part of my pattern. 

When I started to keep a journal, I noticed patterns in my behavior.

Pattern #1: Stay away from me in January. That's the month after the six week Thanksgiving to New Year's frantic Holiday Awesome Superstar Competition that a lot of people sign up for, (including me, alas!). I am NOT NICE in January. I also pick fights in January. (Ooh, the first two lines of a "Gaston" parody...I'm not Nice in January, I pick fights in January. Nope. January has too many syllables.)
Since I noticed the "fights in January" pattern, I have reduced those fights to almost none. Push through, I tell myself.

And NO! I haven't moved my fights to February.

This next pattern actually took decades to reveal.
The 9th year is the worst year.  Some people dread turning 30  or 40 or some other age that ends in 0. And that birthday begins a slide of pathetic moaning.
With me it's the year BEFORE I turn a 0 age that is the absolute worst.

I am a soggy, sighing, irritable person in those 0 age approaching years. 39 was the year that opened my eyes. 29 had been bad but I blamed it on recurring miscarriages and my son starting school and other stuff.

Ten years later, I spent so much time moping that my husband actually complained to me about it.  He never complains about me, honestly. He suffers in stoic silence.
Since then, I weathered 49 (ouch) and 59 (meh).

Guess what year I am in now.  Yep. I will soon be 70.

Want to know something? I am almost happy (I can't BE happy in a 9th year.* Sorry. It's my pattern.) that all the above stuff - COVID-19, racial homicide, political worries, a tanking economy, HUGE unemployment rate, and an attack on the good old Post Office - happened in a 9th year.  I was destined to be miserable this year anyway. I am glad  that I did not waste a perfectly good year on all this brouhaha.

I send my condolences to all who have had a good year spoiled with a pandemic, a stumbling  government, the slap in the face of our systemic racism, a suffering economy, and big unemployment numbers. I feel for you. 

At least THIS year, we are all in this together.  When you drag through the days looking for relief, everyone understands.

Welcome to the 9th year.  Just push through.

*This is actually not true. I can be happy in a 9th year. I just need coffee - or good friends - to get there.

Sunday selfie - All the Little Things

On Wednesday morning, I woke and stumbled downstairs and grabbed my coffee. And I noticed something. The air felt comfortable! Not sticky. Not hot. Not muggy. Just fine.

I almost did not notice. So many things are off kilter these days. I still did not know if I had COVID-19 - (I do NOT).  And my eyes have floaters so my vision is off. The news blared from another room, a sound I am learning to hate. I had to stay away from people I love until I got clearance.

So that morning, I was not actually in the mood to notice how nice the air felt. But when I did, I sat down and just enjoyed it. I took a walk. I barely broke a sweat.

Little things can make life bearable. Little things, like comfortable temperatures, and trees, and mini cantaloupes, and sunflowers. We are awash in sunflowers. A walk in the less oppressive summer heat can build up a flagging spirit.

Because I took the time to notice a break in the weather,  I remembered that all trials pass.

The cooler weather is gone now. This morning, I came home from my solitary walk sweaty and hot.
Fall shimmers under the heat.

This time of COVID-19-and muggy heat - will pass.

I pray that I will see all of you on the other side of this craziness. Be kind. Be brave. Stay safe.

Weird Titles that I Have Read

Some books just pop up in my brain and ask, "Do you remember me?"

Some titles do, too.

What We Found in the Sofa and How it Saved the World by Henry Clark.    So there's a rare zucchini crayon in that sofa and a two headed coin. That's all I remember. But the title is emblazoned on my brain.

How I Stole Johnny Depp's Alien Girlfriend by Gary Ghislain.   He's 14 and he thinks she's just another one of his father's psychotherapy patients. But she is NOT. She's an alien and she MUST mate with the most perfect male on our planet, Johnny Depp.  Incredible - as in completely unbelievable - feats of derring-do and physics defying action ensue.  But, once again, if you can't judge a book by its cover, you can certainly get hooked by its title.

Unusual Chickens for the Extraordinary Poultry Farmer Kelly Jones.    I just updated my rating on Goodreads to 4 stars because I actually went back and re-read this book, it's that much fun. Sophie and her parents inherit her great-uncle's farm and Sophie starts getting weird hand typed letters about chickens. One of the chickens is only visible in certain lights. Another chicken has the talons of a hawk.  Chickens with other unusual qualities show up on this run down farm and Sophie must learn to care for them and keep them safe from chicken nappers. 

The Mighty Odds by Amy Ignatow.   So this title is not all THAT unusual but the book is mighty odd. (See what I did? Hoo boy!! Let me catch my breath here.) Four kids are on a bus when it has an accident and all four kids receive "super" powers. Three of the kids are your normal run-of-the-mill slightly outcast-y kids; an artsy sort, a nerd, a social out cast. But the fourth kid is the most popular girl in school. I thought that was a nice touch.
Now those powers?? Well, one of the kids can change eye color. WHOOOOAAAAA! How awesome is that! One kid has super strength in his thumbs.  Yeah! Miss Popularity can read minds BUT only when the thinker is thinking about directions. And one lad can instantly relocate - 4 inches to the left or right, I forget which. It's the first in a trilogy. I think I better put the other two on hold, right now.

I have a dozen or so books that surface from my book brain. I'll be back with more.

LBB Was THERE!

You have questions.     I know.      I had them, too.

Such as;
How did Hoobert seal himself into that box?
Why didn't anyone notice that Hoobert was not in his cell after they removed the box from the cell?
If someone helped Hoobert, how did that someone escape from the prison?
Were sausages involved?

Well, the answer is the same to the first two questions. Little Blue Bunny!

Yes. Little Blue Bunny was Dulcinator the Investigator's secret weapon in rescuing Hoobert Heever from a foreign prison.

I am still collecting details and "fact" checking them. Every time I think I understand, another question pops up and another layer of intrigue is revealed.

Stay tuned.

If only you would answer my questions!!!