Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “reflections”

Why We Say: #13


Today we learn about earning our salt, eating humble pie, and listening in on conversations.

“He’s worth his salt.”
“Oh, she earned her salt today, that’s for sure.”

Hear of these expressions? If so, then you know it’s in reference to someone who is worth the amount of money they are being paid. In fact, the word “salary” is derived from the Latin word “salarium” which refers to the old Roman practice of providing soldiers their daily salt allowance. A soldier earning his salt ration was earning his keep.

This soldier is looking forward to his salting his paycheck away for a rainy day.image: morguefile

 

 

 

Have you ever had to eat humble pie? You know what I’m talking about–that moment when you’ve been humiliated or had to admit you were wrong. Not a great feeling, but it beats having to eat real humble pie, which is actually the “umbles” or the liver and organs of deer. Yummy–right? Yup, back in the day when English noblemen trotted around bagging deer while hunting, they saved the best for themselves and left the less desirable umbles for the servants. The servants wanting to make their leftovers a bit more tasty would pack the dear bits of deer into a pie. I suppose it would be rather humbling to eat this culinary fare.

“I wonder if Radio would be saying ‘Where my pie?'” on this flavor of the day?” image:morguefile

 

Eavesdropping has taken on a more sophisticated form of listening these days due to the Internet and its penchant for hacking in on conversations. Yet, in the way old days, going back to England, a law existed where houses had to have enough room for the eaves to drip on the owner’s property. It was quite easy to stand in these spaces under the eaves to listen in on inside conversations. People got the inside scoop by being outsiders. Not much has changed, has it?

Not everyone is interested in the wayward tidbit that comes floating by. image: morguefile

 

33 in 2015: a love story


Marriage is like a long-playing record–a bit of static, some scratches, a couple of skips now and then, but overall the music compensates for the irregularities that occur. image: bunko/morguefile

 

33 years ago, my hubs, whom I affectionately designate as MEPA (most excellent personal assistant) and I, stood on a slip of beach in the calm of a January storm and exchanged vows. I was 25 and he 36.

Neither one of us thought marriage when we first met. Both of us, tired of the dating game and relationships gone wrong, thought it satisfying to have a working relationship. You see, I hired him to help me remodel the little shop I had decided to set up my balloon bouquet delivery service. The landlord had cut me a deal: remodel the store–I provide labor and he provide material. I gained six months free rent from that little agreement. I signed the line and upon recommendation, hired the cute guy sporting the fu manchu and curly hair who worked at the local hardware store. Auburn gingers are a weak spot.

The first night of work involved sheet-rocking the ceiling. It took the two of us, my entire repartee of elephant jokes, and about five hours to finish the job. I paid him the agreed sum of $65 and threw in a deli sandwich.
We met in October. I proposed two weeks after meeting him and we eloped 56 days later. I thought getting married January first would be a significant way to start our new life together. Too broke to afford a reception or honeymoon, we found a pizza place open and had the place to ourselves.


Last night we celebrated our anniversary with dinner at a new restaurant and the owners sent over a delicious complimentary slice of key lime pie. The evening was topped by watching Anything Goes with Donald O’Conner and Bing Crosby. The Cole Porter score fits the general theme of our marriage: a bit whirlwind and somewhat lyrical.
We are opposite in tastes, strongly singular in outlook, and much more mellow than we used to be.
33 used to be a LP record designated for long playing–yup, just like it should be for marriage.
Happy New Year!!

Winter Wondering Land


Our region is experiencing the strangest winter. Usually the first snow hits around Thanksgiving and keeps increasing until even the snow aficionados are satisfied. Not this year. No snow outside. Nada. Nuttin. It felt more like Easter service than Advent Sunday service stepping outside of church recently. Sunny skies, a light, yet chillish breeze, a hint of better weather around the corner. I am not complaining. Not at all.

My idea of winter. See that touch of touch way up on the mountain? image: morguefile

Originally I grew up in the wet Northwest and snow at Christmas was an unexpected bonus. I even participated in the usual winter sports of skiing, skating, and sledding. I moved away and traded the dreary rainy winters for snowy ones. Change of pace? No, temporary insanity. Snow is definitely for the younger crowd. Growing older, having to deal with snow as an adult, the fun factor gets zipped out when one must zip into the expense of snow tires, the heave ho of shoveling snow, and surviving the tedium of four months of various shades and stages of this winter wonder as it passes from winter wonderland to icky icy mess.
Yet, Christmas is a bit more special with the lacings of snow. I’ll concede that point. Look at all those Christmas movies that require snow as part of their plot.
So, out of curiosity I hope you take my snow poll:
Show of hands, please…
“Bring on the snow!”
“No way, no snow.”
“Snow in the mountains only, thanks.”

Breaking Out


December 19th is a happy day for several reasons:
1. Christmas Break begins as soon as I turn the key on my classroom door.
2. I’m invited to the library staff Christmas party (being a trustee has it’s perks)
3. The next time I enter my classroom it’ll be a new year, meaning we’ve turned the corner and we’ll be heading towards June graduation.
4. Because the 20th is when our very own kinder plus the wunderkind begin arriving for Christmas.
5. I will not be grading papers and don’t have to create lesson plans, although I might fuss and dabble with the ones I have ready to go for January.
6. My room is prepped ready to be painted over break, transforming it from bowl-of-oatmeal-blah-grayish taint to contemporary calming tan and teal.
7. I anticipate two weeks of napping, reading, exercising, visiting, snacking, writing, celebrating a joyous season, and overall relaxing.

I’m contemplating some serious Shakespeare reading–I have a mungo long TBR list of background bio books on the Bard. I’ve a hankering to write a middle grade novel about Wm. Shakespeare, something that will fetch up some interest in him prior to forced readings of his plays in middle school and high school–something that will pique their interest. To go where no author has gone before with the Bard. I know, that’s a tall order for two weeks.

I’m also considering revisiting former reads such The Hobbit and then watch the film adaptation.

I might also start a series I’ve never encountered before. Mystery? Adventure? Sci-fi? Historical? So many options. Any suggestions?

Of course, I could do a thorough scrubbing of my writing and edit and revise and market and well, that sounds an awful like work and aren’t I supposed to be relaxing?
Whatever I decide to do, I want you all to know I appreciate your comments, views, likes, and follows. I hope to end out the year with 25,000 views and a 1000 followers.

Happy joyful season of friends, family, feasting, and most of all, thanks for the Star of Bethlehem.

Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art my balcony?


As a professed Bardinator, I must admit my dismay upon learning some shocking information concerning Shakespeare’s most famous scene from Romeo and Juliet–perchance there was no actual balcony in the balcony scene. I will give you a moment to recover. Basically, this:

Balcony_Scene

image: education portal presents the traditional view

 

is what we have grown accustomed to over our years of study and admiration of this endearing romantic tale of woe, that of Juliet and her Romeo. However, according to The Atlantic, this is more in align to actuality:

image: rapgenius.com presents as Shakespeare liked it

that Juliet, like most Italian girls of her time period, lived protected behind the walls of her father’s villa. Traipsing about on balconies wouldn’t have happened. For one thing, Shakespeare didn’t know what a balcony happened to be, because no balconies existed in England when he wrote R&J.  From the article:

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest known use in English of the word “balcone” (as it was then spelled) didn’t occur until 1618, two years after Shakespeare died. Even the concept of a balcony was (literally) foreign to Shakespeare’s British contemporaries.

Why then, do we associate a balcony with our two tragic lovers? Blame it on Thomas Otway, who heavily borrowed  from Shakespeare’s play for his own 1679 play, The History and Fall of Caius Marius. Otway places his lovers on a balcony, a known bit or architecture adornment by then, and somehow over the years when Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet returned to public favor–yes *gasp* it wasn’t always popular, the audience simply filled in the gap and placed Juliet on her own balcony.

You don’t believe me? Here, check out why Sparknotes did with the scene. They have  perpetuated the mistaken notation of balcony traipsing versus window leaning. As for me, I go with the balcony. Window leaning just doesn’t cut it for romance. What do you think?

 

Why We Say #12


Continuing on with our foray into unveiling the meaning behind those idioms we know (or not know) so well…

 

Jimmy Cagney voice: “You’ll never take me alive, copper.”

Gotta love those vintage gangster movies. Tommy guns blazing, trench coats, peroxide gun molls, and the dedicated police officers. “Copper” or “cop” an Americanism for police officers, actually owes it origins to London. Police uniforms of London’s finest were once adorned with large copper buttons–I wonder are they still?

I’m looking to get a cord of wood to bolster against winter’s chill. Red fir is the preferred wood by the MEPA’s standards and it has to be cut an irregular 14″ due to our small stove. Wait–what exactly is a cord? At one time a cord or string was used to measure a stack of wood to make it equal _____ feet long, _____ feet wide, and ______ feet deep. Got the answers? Try 8, 4, 4.

However, I still have to round up the wood before I can measure and it might be a wee late in the season to secure my snap, crackle, and poppers for the long winter nights. Presto logs just don’t lend the same ambiance.

Now, this is what I call combining a bit of fun with a full day’s work. Image: http://www.lumberjocks.com

“Oh, don’t give me those crocodile tears. You’re not really hurt.”

Crocodile tears–fake crying–insincere remorse–hypocritical sadness. We attribute that empty crying to being as empty as crocodiles shedding tears as they chomp down their victims. Wait–do crocodiles really cry? Apparently it’s been witnessed that these primitive reptilian cry when they are snacking? Try out this link. It’s more complicated than my little Why We Say book explained. Crocodile tears do make for some great social commentary:

image:kmuw.org

 

 

Blog Spotlight: Jilanne Hoffman


Jilanne would have received my recent pick of nominating a blogger for One Lovely Blog, yet she has one already. In fact, she has a bunch of awards–well deserved, I might add.
Upon visiting her site you have to stop a moment and decide what to visit first. Her book reviews? Her writing challenges? Her impressive bio? I especially like her Picture Book Friday entries because there will always be a place on my reading list for picture books. She is definitely a book promoter–not just picture books. A definite Kindred Spirit for Book Boosters out there.

Jilanne also provides readers with unique stories (check out her O ring entry). You will not be bored, that’s for sure, with so many options to select. And that’s what makes her site so diversely interesting.

I also get a kick out of her friendly mutual pokes and swipes with Mike Allegra. In fact, I think that’s how I connected with her, through his site. You really do meet up with the nicest people on WordPress.
So I hope you check out Jilianne’s blog and enjoy your visit, I know you’ll find something of interest there.

Walking Our Pet Words


image: tsc.uk.net

An embarrassing story from teen years: I’m napping hard in my tent, exhausted from the grueling schedule of cycling up and down hills, navigating narrow country roads, and trying to avoid the fate of unfortunate roadside distraction. What normal 17-year-old girl signs herself up for a cycling tour around the Olympic Peninsula? Anyway, I was so exhausted I forgot all about our usual afternoon agenda meeting. When I finally woke up with that awful White Rabbit yelp of “I’m late! I’m late!” I knew I would not be able to sneak in unobtrusively. My embarrassment was doubled when the group all paused, turned to face me, gleefully shouting, “Terrific!” It was then I knew they were calling me out on my pet word.

Pet words. Admit it–you have at least one.  Maybe you have several on a leash and you walk them out and about without realizing it.

I happened upon Matthew J.X. Malady’s article “You Have A Word That You Constantly Use Without Realizing It — Here’s Where You Got It.” Personally I prefer the email forward title of “How ‘Signature Words Spread.”

As I read the article I began to better understand why I latch on to certain words. Here’s a snippet:

Diane Boxer, a professor at the University of Florida who specializes in sociolinguistics, says that when we find ourselves in a situation where someone uses language differently than we do, or words we’re unfamiliar with, we usually respond in one of two ways.

“We either start to mimic them in some way, or distinguish ourselves from their usage,” she says. “This has to do with how we want to portray our identities. If we identify with them, want to be like them, we’ll start speaking like they do.”

I can relate to that point. I may not do it consciously, although I think my brain picks up on admiration and rolls out a word or phrase associated with that person or character. However, it is embarrassing when we are called out on it. The article cites another reason we adopt pet words.

 

Stanford psychology professorBenoit Monin, I shouldn’t pat myself on the back too fervently. In many cases, when we decide to latch onto these sorts of words, it’s because we’re using language to put on a show. “There could be some element of language snobbery here,” says Monin, whose research focuses on self-image and social norms. “Like, ‘I’m a discriminate language user, and I use these rare words that few people use, and by using them I show that I’m educated.’ ”   

Oh dear, I don’t want to be considered a snob.  What about aficionado? I collect words. Some of them sound so cool I can’t avoid repeating them. There is also that “why order vanilla when huckleberry creme is available?” It seems so plebian to say plain words when so many variants are available. Is that snobbery  or creatively erudite?

The article goes on to mention research conducted by Duke University professor Dan Ariely and Stanford’s Jonathan Levay.

Ariely and Levav say that there exists “the desire to portray oneself as interesting and unique” when we interact with others, and that we will in some cases make irrational decisions to avoid looking like a copycat.  

I will admit I often strive to set myself apart. I often find myself grasping at ways to express myself in a memorable manner. Sometimes this works and sometimes this fails. As in Epic Failure. Note to self: check with urban dictionary before employing certain terms with teens when teaching.

This malady doesn’t cover one very prominent reason for signature or pet words: laziness. I know I fall back on certain words because I get into a habit of saying them.  When my “terrific” warning light flashes on my brain instrument panel, I know I’m close to getting a drubbing on overusage. This week I know I have to rid myself of “channeling” and “solid.” I recently purged lexicon retorts of “perfect.”

Do you have pet words you walk long and often? Is difficult for you to curb their exuberance to romp?

Why We Say: #11


Cold Feet

Maybe this falls into the TMI category, but I wear socks at night. My tootsies get cold, and cold tootsies prevent a good night’s sleep. However, having cold feet and being accused of having cold feet have two very different meanings.

The scene: Two soldiers from the 19th century are standing around on the battlefront and they are freezing cold, like most soldiers in winter.

“So, Joe, are you as cold as I am?”

“Yeah, my nose is cold, my ear lobes are cold. I think my eyelashes are frozen.”

“Mine too. I think my toes are frozen.”

“You got cold feet? You should report that. I hear they’re letting us out if we got cold feet.  Can’t fight if you’ve got cold feet, you know.”

“You’re right. Thanks for the tip. You know I could see how this could be considered an excuse for not standing your ground and fighting.”

“Yeah, I can see your point, Horace. Cold feet, cold courage. Whoa, look lively–incoming. Remind me to loan you a pair of extra socks. The missus sent me some handmade woolies in the last package.

“You’re a real buddy, Joe.”

“Don’t mention it.”

 

Well, maybe Joe and Horace could have had a similar conversation standing around in some frozen field as they stood around soldiering.

Cold feet. I still hear that expression today. That reluctance to do something because we are a bit nervous, or lack that needed chutzpah to grab the opportunity does seem to create a coldness in our extremities. I don’t think wool socks always is the solution either.

Blog spotlight:Letizia


Letizia’s banner image invites readers to open a book and fall in love with reading

 

Book Boosters are those who place reading right up there with breathing. Yup, for some, reading and breathing is pretty essential  Letizia is definitely  a Book Booster because she reads , reads, reads. Pop onto her “About Me” page and this is what you’ll find:

I read in cafes, in my garden, in buses, in airplanes, at the kitchen table, at work, in parks, in bed, in the tub, in the doctor’s waiting room, in hotel lobbies, in trains, in restaurants, waiting for the electrician, during a snowstorm, and when I can’t sleep. I still haven’t mastered the art of walking and reading without looking up from my book, but I hope to one day.

university professor, translator, editor, workshop coordinator (and lover of all dogs!)

languages: French, English, Italian, some Portuguese

 

Her posts are thoughtful and thought-provoking. Take for instance her post on last sentences. In a playful interactive manner she encourages her readers to grab their fave novel and look up the last sentence and reflect upon it. I pulled out my beloved To Kill a Mockingbird, the 1960 issue with the nondescript green tree branch on brown background cover (talk about don’t judge a book by its cover). Letizia’s little exercise reminded me why I adore Harper Lee’s novel and why it is so enduring. This is why I follow her. And I hope you will too.

As a blogger, I always appreciate responses to my own posts, and Letizia faithfully adds her comments.  We all appreciate comments, don’t we?

Thanks, Letizia for your Book Boostering, comments, and worthwhile posting.

 

 

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