Recycling now picked up at the street --Hooray!

~~Van Gogh, from Facebook~~

 

 
             Saline County AR—or parts of it—can now recycle. Some of us can do it with less effort. What’s easier than throwing papers and clean plastic, # 1-7, into a large bin clearly labeled RECYCLABLES? Now, I don’t have to drag a heavy newspaper-filled bag to the back porch for Daughter to carry to the Benton facility once a month. Or large sacks full of plastics.

            And “for promotional purposes,” the price for both trash pickup and recycling remains the same. For now.

            Eureka Springs and Arkadelphia have had curbside recycling service for some time. Well, since the late 1990s in Arkadelphia when Kid Billy and I lived there. And when I began going to the Writers Colony in the Ozarks—about 6-7 years ago—that service was already available.

            Republic Services—Allied Waste—is the new hero. I’m told that Terry’s Waste Management in Benton is also beginning that service. Hooray for all companies who are answering the grassroots’ hue and cry for a “greener” earth.

About 2:30 one morning last week, I experienced a severe itching on my front side. Finally, I had to get up and apply lotion, which helped. Couldn't go back to sleep, so I got back up and wrote a 16-line poem due last Saturday at the local poets' meeting.

 I got to see from which direction the paper carrier comes (south to north)—at 3 a.m.  When I needed the wastebasket by my desk, it wasn't there. I retraced my steps, thought a minute and remembered: I took it with its loose trash and a big box of other stuff out to the bin for collection the next morning. Unthinking, I heaved the entire burden into the container and schlepped it streetside.

So at four in the morning, I took my flashlight out to the street, and sure enough, there it sat--upright with its trash still in it. Whew!  

 At 4:50, with a Tums, Vicks in my nostrils and a short slug of cough med, I went back to bed. Awoke at 9. Delicious.

My neighbors on the south have a Doberman and a smaller, furry, yappy dog named Harley. Somehow, they’ve found a gap in the fence and three times lately, have surprised me in my own backyard. The big dog runs up to me, but I yell and she turns and returns. Harley merely stands his ground and barks. One Facebook friend said to befriend the big dog. Un-uh!

The wind continues to blow—as it will during March—and night temps are warming from the usual 32 degrees and below. The plants that I took outside and lined against the house will just have to take it—like the outside cats do—or not.

The Norfolk Pine, the huge schefflera, Mom’s split-leafed philodendron, my wedding-gift begonia, the jade plant and a newish pencil cactus remain inside against any cause of death. I hope the inside cats pay attention to this.  So far, they only rub the sides of their faces against one low limb.

Spring is such a tease: here today and gone tomorrow. How'bout those folks on the upper east coast?  Brrrr!

Soon, though and it will get warm.

Let’s remember NOT to complain when it gets too hot.

 

PL, dba lovepat press, c 2014

March lagged behind in its tempo to spring's marching

~~Spring of 2006, PL~~

 

 

                Most years by now all the spring-blooming plants were in full blossom, and I sometimes listed all I could see around Couchwood. Not this year. But with the few warm days we’ve had, more and more color is showing on this first day of spring.

 

                The inside plants blooming are blue African violets, and red epesia trumpets. The bracts of the red Christmas poinsettia, and two red carnations with baby’s breath and greenery (from the Valentine bouquet sent by my Florida son) still decorate my buffet.

 

                Oh, yes, and a bouquet of cut flowers lends springtime to my sight and a heady aroma to my nose from the dining table. For the first time ever, I also arranged a bouquet for the bathroom. (Why hadn't I thought of that before now?)

 

Outside on the porch are the newly released house plants. The baby jew from my Hot Springs son has tiny white dots for blooms. (I’ve never had such a plant before. ) Two other plants have their own odd-shaped blossoms. A cutting of begonia in water shows a pink bloom.

 

Five kinds of daffodil or buttercups brighten either the edges of the yard or the flower beds. The vintage double ones are more profuse than usual. And appear in more places. Others are common daffodils, a vintage, single fragrant buttercup, two hybridized ones—one completely yellow with a cup, and one yellow with an orange cup. Oh, and here’s another: ivory with a larger yellow cup.

 

Farther out are forsythia, japonica—both pink and white--and spirea, but none as full of color as they usually are by this time. Perhaps another week of warm weather…

 

Grandson Billy’s 24^th birthday was Wednesday. The first time in his life, he said, that it didn’t fall during spring break. He'll come "home" tonight and Friday (no classes; no work shift) for a rare visit.

 

Other family events happened in March. Dad was born March 25, 1909. One of my sisters—Barbara--was born on March 28, 1947. Mom died on March 28, 2006.

 

On March 20 in other years, Uncle Tom's Cabin was first published--in 1852. John Lennon married Yoko Ono in Gibraltar, 1969.

 

On March 21^st in 1790, Thomas Jefferson became Secretary of State under President Washington. Alcatraz prison was emptied of prisoners by the order of Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy in 1963.

 

March 22^nd saw The Beatles’ US album The Early Beatles released in 1965.

 

March 23^rd Patrick Henry's Give me Liberty speech occurred in 1775.The United States Mint produced its first coins made by a press in 1836.

 

March 24^th 1989 saw the largest oil spill in United States history. It happened in Alaska.

 

On March 25^th in 1954, RCA first produced color televisions. (I was a high school senior.)

 

March 26^th 1892, poet Walt Whitman died in Camden, New Jersey.

 

Belated, but still appropriate to the season is this Irish Blessing: “May good luck be with you wherever you go, and your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow.”

c 2014, lovepat press, PL

Using unusual words in your writing--yes or no?

(Google Image)

 

                Recently, I read a book where—at the end—the narrator was nine years old. Yet she used the phrase, “Am I paranoid?” I flagged it. For I didn’t learn that word till I had been married for some few years.

 

                Now, I have a narrator—in her 30s, a rural high school graduate cum-newspaper woman during World War II—who uses the words “voila” and “epithets.” Which led me to wonder if she would know those words in her thirties, given her background. Methinks not.

 

                But they are such good words. I had a high school friend named “Viola.” Of course, the viola (small case) is a well-known, if not particularly stand-outish, stringed instrument. Some folks still get that word confused with “voila.” Some other folks pronounce it “wah-lah.” Even up into his college years, one fellow confessed.

 

                I’ve asked around—on Facebook, during a lull in choir practice, in emails—to see when and where folks learned “voila!”

 

                “During French class in high school,” one answered.
 

 Now, I have no mention in A Journey of Choice” of my protagonist taking French at her school. Could I somehow—in the sequel—insert that bit of information? Perhaps the superintendent or the English teacher gave her a one-on-one class, knowing that she was destined for something beyond what the small community could offer her. Perhaps.

 

Another responder said he saw it in his comic books, but didn’t know how to pronounce it until later.

 

A third person answered that she heard it in Saturday morning cartoons! She even did an impression for us.

 

I don’t remember when or where I learned the word, “voila!” but I DO remember learning the word “genre.”

 

In graduate school residency at the University of Arkansas the summer of 1977 (at age 41), I took History of Choral Music (or something like that—gee, now 35 years later, what does it matter?)  under Dr. Groh.

 

If he used the word “genre” once, he used it a hundred times during the course. We soon began smirking and rolling our eyes each time he said it.
 

 Now that I call myself a writer, I hear, see and use the word often. Writing has as many (or more) genres as music.

 

Another word in my sequel, whose working title is Her Face in the Glass, which comes from the mouth of my protag is “epithet,” as in, “We razzed him with epithets,." /“Brain.” / “Smart-aleck,” etc.

 

To this day, I don’t think I EVER used this word in conversation. Which makes me wonder if Liddy would know the word, much less tell us (as the narrator).

 

An editorial in the Saline [AR] Courier last Sunday by Kathleen Parker of the Washington Post was headlined, “New SAT don’t care ‘bout no fancy words.”

 

The first line read, “When the going gets tough, well, why not just make the going easier?” Her thesis is opposition to the dumbing down (my phrase) of the test that qualifies one for college. “The test will no longer include fancy words, otherwise known as a rich vocabulary…”

 

Yes, I’ll give my protag French lessons back in high school on a one-to-one basis by her English teacher.

 

Voila!

The Zion Curtain and (what else?) the weather

 

                Current events that coincide or refer to what I’m reading always seem serendipitous. I just finished “Water Under the Bridge” written by Verna Simms of Festus, Missouri. She is nearly 93, is on Facebook and sold many of her 333-page books at a recent signing.

                The novel is about Mormons. In Sunday’s Arkansas Democrat-Gazette was an article headlined, “Utah alcohol laws too dry, some say,” with the sub-head, “In heavily Mormon state, bartenders mix drinks out of customers’ views.” I took time to read the article by John M. Glionna of the LA Times.

                I chuckled at a reference to the Zion Curtain! In Utah, the “politically powerful Morman Church’s restrictive alcohol laws described by some as the Zion Curtain needs to be torn down.” Bartenders must mix drinks in the kitchen—because of “impressionable children” who might be present.

                Others call it “Byzantine alcohol laws,” and “something akin to a covered wagon parked in a lot full of Maseratis. ”

                More information: Mormons are a majority of Utah’s Legislature, and compose three-fourths of the state’s population of nearly three million. Mormons who drink are forbidden to worship in temples.

                Shot glasses in one souvenir shop read, “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you may be in Utah.”

                Sleet lay on the ground Monday morning, so I checked into the online wunderground weather information. This is what I found:

              “At any given moment around the world... approximately 1800 thunderstorms are occurring. Although thunderstorms are relatively small... when considered on a global scale of weather... all
thunderstorms are dangerous. Lightning... flash floods... hail... straight-line winds... and tornadoes all result from thunderstorms.

             “ A thunderstorm is considered severe when it produces winds of at least 58 mph or hail at least 1 inch in diameter––the size of a quarter.

             “Lightning is a hazard in all thunderstorms... whether they are severe or not. While thunder frightens many people... it is the lightning that causes deaths... injuries... and damage. Remember... it is the lightning that produces thunder... so whenever thunder is heard... danger is present. In Arkansas in 2013... no lightning deaths occurred... but six people were injured by lightning.

              “Flash floods are another thunderstorm hazard. Most deaths due to flash floods occur at night... when the danger is the most difficult to see. Vehicles being driven into flooded areas result in the greatest number of flash flood deaths. In Arkansas in 2013... 6 people lost their lives to flash floods... all on May 31st. Five of the fatalities occurred at Y City in Scott County.

              “Large hail... on average... causes nearly one billion dollars in damage in the U.S. Each year. Some injuries due to large hail occur in this country each year... but deaths from hail are relatively rare. Animals fare far worse than humans. The largest hailstones reported in Arkansas during 2013 were 2 inches in diameter in the Warren area on May 21st.

             “Straight-line winds produced by thunderstorms caused one death and seven reported injuries in Arkansas last year. Typically each year in Arkansas... the strongest winds reported from thunderstorms are between 75 and 100 mph. The strongest thunderstorm winds reported in Arkansas last year were 100 mph in The Horseshoe Bend area of Izard County. Altogether... there were 17 instances of thunderstorm winds of at least 80 mph in Arkansas during 2013.

           “Finally... tornadoes are spawned by thunderstorms. In an average year... 33 tornadoes would be expected in Arkansas... with these tornadoes causing four deaths. In 2013... Arkansas experienced
34 tornadoes... and there were two tornado fatalities.”

                Here’s an observation and my first published haiku: “a single brave bird/ tries its winter-dormant voice/ ‘spring-a-soon, spring’s soon.’”
                Let’s hope so.

Oh, where have you been, Patty-girl, Patty-girl

Panama City Beach - Google images

 

               

 When Kid Billy and I used to drive to visit relatives in Florida, we made up this song, which delighted the youngster. “Oh, where have you been, Billy-boy, Billy-boy…Arkansas and Mississip, Alabam and Florida…” I thought of it driving home this past Sunday from Panama City Beach.
 

 Twenty-one stories high in a Wyndham building, we could see the sandy shore where gentle waves lapped incessantly. The small balcony barely held four seats and the round table. Straight down was the pool area.
 

I didn’t buy one book! In fact, only in the last up-scale place did I even touch one.I didn’t buy one shell. I have a gallon jardinière and a basket full from earlier visits to the panhandle. I didn’t buy one pear-motif piece, though some were gifts.
 

What did I buy? A blue, fish-shaped ginger grater—not to grate ginger, but to put on a stand and place on a shelf in my Blue Room-cum-office-cum Mom’s sunroom.
 

I bought a blue glass buoy replica wrapped in roping to hang from the pocket window in the same room. I bought a small blue-glass shell (oops, I did buy one piece shaped like a shell), and a 2-piece set of color drip candles for our New Year’s candle made many years ago in a wine bottle.
 

At Ritzy Rags, I bought a blue glass ring, a gold billfold and 2 serving spoons in my silverplate pattern. At a Catholic charity warehouse, I bought two small plant pots and a bunch of silk flowers “for my cemetery duties.”
 

We ate out several times—at the Saltwater Grill, described by Wyndham as a must-do activity. After an expensive repast, a perceived-by-one rude waitperson and a loud-mouthed man behind us, we discovered the asterisk beside the entry meant “date night” meaning “expensive.” However, the giant, wall-sized fish tank entertained us while we waited.
 

At Jimmy Buffet’s eatery, Margaritaville, fronting Pier Park, a sister and I shared a “volcano-shaped” plate of nachos. Others in our party of five ate fish, chicken and a cheeseburger. We shopped at ubiquitous boutiques along a couple of blocks of Pier Park. I’d have bought a shell-motif coffee mug, but the Chinese had made it non-microwaveable by inserting a metal ring at the base of the handle. The clerk hadn’t noticed, she said.
 

One night, we made arrangements with my son Gordon/wife Karen to each drive halfway between Pensacola and Panama City Beach and meet in Destin. Karen arranged the place and gave us directions. We ate at Acme’s Oyster Bar in Baytowne Wharf for a delightful but short visit. They would head down to Daytona for the car races later, and this was the only night we could get together.
 

Our last-night eat-out venue was Sweet Basil’s Bistro, an Italian food place. Several had lasagna; two of us had pizza; one, pasta Alfredo with Polish sausage and a meatball.
 

Other meals we took at “home” with food brought from Arkansas/Virginia.
 

Day activities besides shopping included the two “northern” women plus an Arkansas sister (not me) playing pickle ball twice, others of us walking the beach, sitting/reading on the beach, sitting on the balcony reading and napping (guess who?).
 

 

One day, two of us drove quite a ways west to the Eden Gardens state park and toured a mansion and grounds that included a 500- and 600-year-old Virginia live oak. We snacked on stuff we'd brought along, and each bought a camellia from their “nursery.”
 

Evening activities included watching the Olympics, playing cards, reading and scrapbooking (me).
 

 

All are now back in our respective homes unpacking, washing clothes.
 

And remembering.



Nothing about President Washington's wooden teeth

 

                Since this is the month of Lincoln and Washington's birthdays, plus Presidents' Day, I delved into two resources for unusual information about our first president.Arkansas Living's "trivia" feature and Eric Couch's Presidential Trivia provided the snippets that follow.

                George Washington was born at Pope's Creek Farm (now Wakefield), Westmoreland County, Virginia, February 22, 1732. He did not have a middle name. In school, his favorite subject was arithmetic.

                George was only eleven when his father, Augustine Washington, died. George was one of nine presidents who didn't attend college.

At age 17, he secured a surveyor's assistant job helping lay out the town site in Alexandria, Virginia. At 19, while on his only foreign trip, George contracted smallpox on the island of Barbados.

At age 27, George, an Episcopalian, married Martha Dandridge Custis, also 27. The name of her plantation home was White House.

                The mule owes its popularity on the farm to George Washington. While researching farming methods, he determined that mules (the offspring of a male donkey and a female horse) were better for farming because they were stronger and had more endurance than a horse. In the 1770s, he began breeding mules at Mount Vernon.

                In 1782, as leader of the Continental Army, George Washington introduced the military decoration, Order of the Purple Heart. During this time, he became close friends with marquis de Lafayette, who eventually gave his general a Maltese jackass to help in the latter's mule business.

Washington served as president from 1789-1797. Our first president is the only one who did not live in the White House, which wasn't completed until after his death. He was 57 years old when he was sworn in as president for the first time. The oath of office was administered by Robert R. Livingston of New York, and ended with President Washington saying, "So help me God!" He appointed Thomas Jefferson secretary of state.

Though never paid for his work, Pierre Charles L'Enfant, a French engineer, was hired by President Washington to lay out the physical plan for a new capitol for the new nation.

 Because of the tardiness of some states in ratifying the Constitution, only eleven states officially comprised the USA at the time he was elected. In April, 1792, the president exercised his veto power for the first time in the nation's history.

                Washington's second inauguration was held March 4, 1793 in Federal Hall, Philadelphia. That inaugural speech was 133 words in length. The next year, he raised 15,000 troops to put down a rebellion by farmers in western Pennsylvania, known as The Whiskey Rebellion. The same year, he and the Congress authorized the creation of the United States Navy as a branch of the U.S. Defense Department.

                His 6,000-word Farewell Address was published in the Philadelphia newspaper, American Daily Advertiser, on September 19, 1796.

                On December 12, 1799, George Washington fell ill with a cold and sore throat. His condition worsened to the point that he had trouble breathing. He died two days later of what is now believed to be acute epiglottitis.

                In 1847, his likeness appeared on the first 10-cent stamp issued by the U.S. Post Office.

                Pat here: Like any researcher, I benefited the most. If you learned even one new fact, Yay!

From wanna-be to blogger--5 year anniversary

­­

                It’s Sunday night, February 9, 2014—a special date in several ways. According to my haiku calendar, in 2010 it was 20 degrees with snow on the ground. In 2011, it was snowing. Thirty-two degrees in 2013, and today, 29 degrees with snow still on the ground (until the afternoon). After the low, low temps of the past few weeks, today, it seemed actually warm.

                One more important (to me) event: Five years ago, I began blogging.

                In early February of 2008, I wrote a piece titled, “If I were a blogger . . .” At that time, I knew only two bloggers, both friends: former landlady Sally Dixon and Dennis Price, an Arkansan-turned-Texan. (He calls himself “the Texican.”) He kept at me, and when I finally set up a blog, he offered support by getting his friends to "comment."

                So far, though, I haven’t received any invitation from magazine editors to use any of my posts, like the literature on the advantages of blogging promised. Oh, I take that back, Gayle asked me to do a guest post on her blog, which I promised to do this month. But right now, she’s just a blogger like me. And a 90+-year-old writer from Missouri asked me to put the word out (on my blog) about her first novel coming out Tuesday, Water Under the Bridge, by Verna Simms.

                Now, five years later, many bloggers I know are out there in blogger-land, including most of the members of Central AR Writers.

Why blog? Jane, a blogger from Rector says, “Writing feeds me. It wasn't until I had the time that I began to write out of daily experiences, sharing what spoke to me. The response from readers encourages me to look deeper into each day.”

A blogger from Clinton: "Today marks the second anniversary of my blog, named "Freeda Baker Nichols, My True Sentence." As a poet and writer, I share poems and short fiction as well as photos. Blogging allows me to share my writings with people around the world. That's awesome! Their feedback encourages and brings me happiness. Although it's time consuming, my blog is worthwhile and keeps me writing."

                Here is another blogger, Christa. "Pat, I was a reluctant blogger. I had written the column for the paper since 2005 and when they started offering blogs I simply graduated to putting my column on the blog. Then I became excited about it and have 3 other blogs that I don't really update as often as I should."

Dot from Beebe writes, "I find blogging a good writing discipline for me, an appointment I need to keep. I also enjoy the instant gratification of finishing a project, no matter if small, and putting it out there. My blog (First Person Limited) is not designed to be an expert's view or opinion of anything; I like that freedom, too."

Gayle (aforementioned) says, "Blogging 1) keeps my mind on writing.  Knowing I need to keep a schedule keeps me on my toes and my attention on writing. 2) Perhaps the best thing is I am more aware of things around me, always wondering if they would be good subjects or how I could use them in a post.3) A nice side benefit is that I'm getting better at quick edits! ( and I'm craving to get better at photography, now, too... so I have my own photos to use)"

                Other friends have blogs, too, but I'll save their thoughts for another time.