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Fly By Nighters March 31, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Art & Photography, Blogging, Humor, People.
47 comments

Comment threads on the blogs I follow are informative, entertaining, silly, happy, funny, and thoughtful.

It’s great when a post sparks thought-provoking comments from diverse and varied visitors.  Comments that make me sit up and say WOW! often inspire me to head round and meet the blogger on their home turf.

That said, some “fly by nighters” need to brush up on comment etiquette:

* X scrolls through partial posts on his reader at lightning speed, pressing “LIKE” for each . . . without bothering to read them first.

* Y slows down long enough to leave comments in his wake, but most are banal . . . and often off putting.  Colonialist gave a terrific example once upon a time:

Post:  My whole family was wiped out today. I am distraught.

Comment:  LOL

* Z hasn’t been around for weeks.  She rushes in, out of breath from cruising around 47 other blogs during a 15-minute blog break, blitzes through 12 posts in 3 minutes, leaves cursory comments on each . . . AND expects us to believe she read each post.

Silly rabbits!

All of us have days when our comments don’t flow ~ sometimes it’s a slow go, other times a no go.  That’s to be expected.

But if we act like X Y or Z on a daily basis, perhaps we need to rethink our practices and priorities?  Are we following the blogs we follow because we enjoy reading them . . . or for some other ulterior motive?

Aah . . . that’s better!

Related posts (on being “the perfect host”): The Perfect Host ~ Comment Moderation (WP Daily Post) * Commenting on Posts (Carol Balawyder)

* * *

Artwork available at Roderick MacIver Arts.  Rod conveys nature with brilliant brushstrokes.  The beauty of Rod’s watercolors lies in his ability NOT to control all aspects of the water ~ he allows it latitude to do its thing while he does his. The result speaks for itself.

A Party for You Know Who! March 30, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Books & Movies, Writing & Writers.
36 comments

In honor of his Birthday and all the books he wrote . . .

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A party was in order with a favorite poster quote . . .

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Small fans arrived in costume . . . as foxes, fishes, and a goat!

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They decor-ated cupcakes and left with belly bloat.

Aah . . . that’s better!

There’s no end to the things you might know, depending how far beyond Zebra you go. ~ Dr. Seuss

What’s your favorite Seussian book, character, word, rhyme or quote?

 

Angling for a Complement March 29, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Home & Garden, Word Play.
13 comments

The last time we walked down Pine Avenue, I noticed Kermit fishing.

“Hey Kermit!  What cha doing?”

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“Oh, hi there.  I’m angling for a complement.”

“A compliment?  What kind of compliment?”

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“Not compliment.  Complement.  I’m hanging around, dangling this line, and angling for my soul mate . . .  the divine Miss Piggy.”

“What a compliment for Miss Piggy!”

Aah . . . that’s better!

A Happy Note ~ Daisy Days March 28, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Home & Garden, Less IS More, Nature.
32 comments

The flowers I received for Valentine’s Day wilted in short order . . . except for one sprig of purple daisies.

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Since they seemed happy to hang around a bit longer, I relocated them to an empty crock of Dundee Orange Marmalade.

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There, they added a happy note to our days.

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Aah . . . that’s better!

Related posts:  Simple, Old-Fashioned Things I Love Doing (My Light Bag) * Take A Two-Minute Break (Find Your Middle Ground) * The Friday Four: Flowers (Maggie Madly Writing)

“I’m Humbled” March 27, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Humor, People, Spirit & Ego.
45 comments

Donald-DuckI confess to raising my eyebrows a bit when someone responds to a compliment by saying “I’m humbled.”

Doesn’t “being humbled” mean we’ve been knocked down a peg or two by losing a race, making a mistake, or being human?

How would receiving a compliment be humbling?

Wouldn’t a compliment tend to have the opposite effect on people who use an external reference point to gauge their progress in life?

In many instances, “I’m humbled,” translates loosely as, “I’m stoked! Thanks for noticing!”

Why not just say that?

Aah . . . that’s better!

Quote to ponder:  In reality there is perhaps not one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride.  For even if I could conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility.  ~ Benjamin Franklin

Related posts:  Fun with Words ~ Is Humility a Virtue? * You’re Full of Hubris

Pacific Organic Tomato Soup March 26, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Food & Drink, Sustainable Living, Vegetarian Recipes.
22 comments

Fresh Market’s running a special on Pacific Organic Tomato Soup this month.

We tried it.

We both loved it!  And BFF doesn’t even really like Tomato Soup.

It comes in a resealable quart container and stays fresh in the fridge for 7-10 days after opening.

It’s low fat, gluten free, soy free, kosher, vegetarian, and . . . delicious!

Other soups include: Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato Soup (also yummy), Creamy Butternut Squash Soup (not my fave), and many more we haven’t tried.

Yet.

In addition to soups, they make Meals, Sides, Sauces, and Gravies ~ all of which can be filtered by dietary preferences.

To learn more Pacific and its sustainable practices ~ check out Our Story ~ Pacific Foods.

Aah . . . that’s better!

Have you tried any products by Pacific?  Are you a fan?

A Hottie . . . or a Nottie? March 25, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Exercise & Fitness, Humor, People.
30 comments

Goofy-Riding-A-BikeOn the way to Bradenton’s Farmer’s Market last weekend, we saw a man riding a bike, wearing tight biker shorts but no top.

His shirtless state revealed a big belly bulge as his badge of honor.

“Look, BFF!  That guy is following his gut instincts!”

“That’s not a 6-pack . . . it’s a keg!”

Aah . . . that’s better!

Stuffed! March 24, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Home & Garden, Less IS More.
40 comments

The best way to avoid clutter is not to buy it in the first place.  We learned that lesson the hard way by moving our stuff . . .  more than a dozen times.

Our first visitors
stumble o’er moving boxes
“Let’s go out to eat!”

Wikipedia ~ Moving Company

In our younger years, we had a number of buying triggers (CD’s, books, zebras, Santas) ~ all manner of collectable collectibles.

Unpacking becomes
A logistical challenge
We have Too Much Stuff

These days, we seldom shop for anything but groceries.  And still we have things cluttering up our life which would benefit from more pruning. 

Back to the basics:
load, unload, unpack, repeat.
We have Too Much Stuff

Wikipedia ~ Collecting

When we bought this villa we inherited a literal ton of knick knacks and paddy whacks which we stashed in a make-shift staging area in the garage.

After our umpteenth trip to Goodwill, the garage floor reappeared with an opening large enough for our cars.

Life’s small victories
mount, as stuffed garage swallows
a Toyota van

Wikipedia ~ Moving Company

The less we have to distract us . . . the more time we have to live!

Rain drops on hutches
and bartered possessions ~ our
moving saga ends

 Aah . . . that’s better!

Quote to Ponder:  Until you are happy with who you are . . . you will never be happy with what you have.

Related posts:  Pack & Live Lighter (My Light Bag) * Possessions: The Stuff of Life (LA Times) *  Collectable Collectibles (Colonialist) * Expand Time Energy Money (Love Out Loud) * Timely Advice

Häagen-Dazs & Pretzel: A Fairy Tale March 22, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Fiction, Humor, Word Play, Writing & Writers.
38 comments

Once upon a time, an extremely unattractive and petulant misanthrope grew tired of living in close proximity to a bunch of Nosy Parkers.

“Hell is other people,” Mizzie Borden muttered while stirring a cauldron of Cream of Newt Soup.  “Always butting in where they don’t belong.”

She decided to follow Thoreau’s footsteps into the woods.  She surfed MAXEDOUT.com and found a small cottage with a large oven and great curb appeal.  Real eye candy.

Mizzie purchased the cottage without requesting a home inspection.  An army of ants nibbling the gingerbread siding wasn’t the worst of it.

Walden Township raised property taxes, FEMA hiked flood insurance premiums, and subsidies under the Unaffordable Health Care Act never materialized.  

Desperate to make ends meet, Mizzie advertised on Angie’s List as an unlicensed child care provider (a/k/a “a babysitter”).  

The next day, a woodcutter left Häagen-Dazs and Pretzel in Mizzie’s care.

“I’m off to protest mountaintop removal by short-sighted privateers intent on raping the earth of its coal.  Soon, there won’t be any trees left for me to cut.  I’ll be back at 5.”

Häagen-Dazs and Pretzel proved  to be both crude and rude.

“Spoiled brats!”

Impatient for lunch, they pulled the gingerbread siding off her cottage and ate it.  Ants and all.

“Insubordinate beasts!”

When the woodcutter didn’t show on time, Mizzie shoved Häagen-Dazs and Pretzel into the oven for a “time out.”

Unbeknownst to Mizzie, the oven was blazing.

“Oh, well. I warned Häagen-Dazs not to play with matches.”

Following a half-hearted investigation plagued with bureaucratic foul ups, bribery, and corruption, the police dropped all charges.  Mizzie returned home and became a writer (the best occupation for misanthropes).  

Unable to find a publisher for her horror stories and fractured fairy tales, Mizzie self-published.  Fueled by her recent notoriety, Eat Mor’ Children  took off in a blaze of tweets.  

Paparazzi became a nuisance, sitting in trees with long lenses.

“Every blessing is cursed!”

Mizzie stormed the glade, “Get off, the lot of you!  Go shoot Cumberbatch’s bitches!”

When entreaties failed, Mizzie invited them for lunch.  As lunch.

If not for government-sanctioned invasions of privacy, Mizzie would have lived happily-ever-after.

“No one’s gonna miss a few pesky paparazzi.”

Except for other Nosy Parkers.

NSA (National Screening Agents) intercepted Mizzie’s e-mails, including her recipes for “Paparazzi Primavera” and “Children Cacciatore.”

“Hell is other people,” Mizzie muttered, when arrested.  ”Always poking about where they don’t belong.”

* * *

Join the fun ~> Susanna’s March Madness Writing Contest is Here!

Writing is a solitary occupation.  Family, friends, and society are the natural enemies of the writer.  He must be alone, uninterrupted, and slightly savage if he is to sustain and complete an undertaking. ~ Lawrence Clark Powell

Related post:  A Fairy Tale Tribunal

Illustrations:  Wikipedia ~ Hansel & Gretel (in Public Domain)

Putting the Brakes on Spring Break March 21, 2014

Posted by nrhatch in Humor, People.
31 comments

It’s been a fast paced few weeks on the island as snow birds and spring breakers  converge and collide:

* A 16-year-old joy rider stole a car and led police in cars and helicopters on a jaunt around the area ~ over the river and into the bridge.  Before police punctured his tires, he side-swiped other vehicles and area infrastructure a total of 26 times ~ including 9 crashes into the protection rail on the Cortez Bridge.  Although the bridge survived the attack with nary a scratch, the “joy rider” is apt to get more than a slap on the wrist.

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* Police are out in full force on the beaches, targeting spring-breakers breaking alcohol laws ~ both under-age drinking and the alcohol ordinance that prohibits open containers on the beach

“We have a little machine that we can wave over an open container and it will read whether or not it’s an alcoholic beverage.  We are looking for people who display signs of intoxication.  If the person is underage, we will do a Breathalyzer.”

Good thing my days of underage drinking on the beach are behind me.

Speaking of behinds, here’s The Full Monty . . .

* Island police arrested a man running up and down Bridge Street on Sunday, March 9, at 5 p.m.  The man was talking to himself as he ran.  “I think I can, I think I can.”

The problem?  Like the vain Emperor or a 70’s stadium streaker . . . no clothes!  Not a stitch on him.

“Oh, yes, they call him the streak.  Fastest thing on two feet.”

When ordered to stop by an officer in a patrol car, the man ran off.  “You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man.”

Subdued in front of the BeachHouse restaurant (where we wait to pick up our pizza), the subject told officers his clothes were “changing his internal biology of how he sees himself.”  As a result, he was no longer “in control of his mind.” Asked for his name, he replied, “Elijah the Prophet.”

An ambulance returned “Elijah” (a/k/a “the Gingerbread Man”) to Manatee Glens Mental Health Treatment Facility under the Baker Act after a warrant check revealed he’d run away from that facility.

I’m surprised Elijah the Prophet didn’t see that coming.

Spring Break ~ the perfect time to let your hair down and let it all hang out. “No shirt, no shoes . . . no problem.”  But that’s where we draw the line in the sand.

“No pants . . . no service!”

Aah . . . that’s better!