Wordle fun

Here is my Wordle

thanks Daryl!

Oh and those of you looking for the Portland postcard? You will need to e mail me your addresses. I won't even publish them on the internet or anything!

ahh Monday

And I have a few observations...

You will all be glad to know that though I was not tagged for the UU, I still went ahead and asked MM to name 3 things. He named about 20 in less than a minute. However, one of them was having a "sarcastic mean streak a mile wide...."
uh
chirp chirp chirp
(*crickets*)
but he is completely correct, I can have one of those, especially with people who are hypocritical. And he did say it was with hypocritical people. So it's all good.
Plus we were eating really excellent sushi at the time.

Another observation? If you are at a restaurant, where people are kind of snugly placed at tables, please, do not sit there, and drink a goodly amount of liquor, and air all your adult children's dirty laundry. These 2 couples sitting next to us were totally bagging on their kids. Therapy, divorce, everything. Totally threw them under the bus. Not cool. But, they also threw themselves under the bus, too, by discussing how pregnant the wife was when they were married (and they were married in the early 50's). Enjoyable dinner conversation, eh?

And lastly, what is up with these specialty mail boxes? Tractors, Large mouth fish, pigs, dogs painted on them. Just to name a few. Why must we subject others to these things? I mean, I could go out, and paint my mailbox with a large phallus and hang some large metal balls off it, do you think the people on my street would like to see that? (Not sure how MM would feel about it either. I guess he could paint a vagina on the other side, or boobs...).

Obviously my brain is still kind of mush...

Oh, and before I forget! Sign ups now starting for the drunken Portland Postcards from Cami and I. Last year's were very interesting... don't miss out

Short Story Saturday

Ruprecht frantically ran through the streets of downtown Cardiff. His heart beating wildly in his ears, his sandals slapping against the rain soaked pavement. His love beads flapping against his face.
It was dawn. And it was Monday. And that meant....
finding the perfect greenery for HER lunch time salad.

She always ordered salad, and that puzzled him. "Surely, she realizes she looks spectacular" he thought to himself. He had tried, in the beginning, to tempt her with other fare. Pasta, (almost fresh.) A nice sandwich. Perhaps, his specialty, pizza, made with lobster, zuchini, and (almost) fresh cream sauce.
Once, he'd even made her a special salad, full of that garbage, Frizee, just to see if he could starve her into chosing something else. But she'd politely pushed it to the side, and ate the rest of the lettuce he'd not had the heart to leave out.

Getting to the market, he shoved aside the little old ladies and their shopping lorries, eager to see what produce was offered for the day. He examinined the raddichhio, the hearts of palm, the romaine. All appeared (almost) fresh, so he loaded them into his basket. Turning his nose up at the iceberg, he pressed on. He found some Bibb lettuce, and (joy of joys!) some Batavian lettuce as well. Going for broke, he also grabbed some butterhead. He did not want her to grow bored with the salad. She might find a new place for lunch if she did that...

After paying for his purchases, Rupe sailed back to his tiny restaurant on happy feet. He'd come to Cardiff to meet his soul mate. He had certainly never imagined he would find her, eating salad, in the restaurant he worked at. He certainly NEVER expected her to be an American, of all things.
"Bad luck she is married, though" he thought morosely. He'd seen her come in with her children a few times. The girl was well mannered and polite with her requests for crips and grilled cheese. The little one though. Had thrown lettuce at him.
Still and all, even knowing she was married, he could not tear his thoughts from her. Each day at lunch he waited for her to come in, and order her salad, in that exotic accent she had. It was what he lived for.
His friends tried to take him out, to distract him from always thinking of her. He always refused to go. Instead, he stayed home, agonizing over what she might want in her salads.
"Nice chopped egg, maybe? Broccoli? Artichoke Hearts? Mango even? He dreamt of lettuce, cucumbers, and the saucy American...
Back at the restaurant, he threw his heart and soul into the salad preparation, just knowing, in his bones, that she would gift him with her presence this day. But when his back was turned, just for a moment, (almost fresh) Kev went and mucked it all up, by tossing in some day old Frisee.
Rupe lost it, at that point. Tears streaming down his face, he rounded on (almost fresh) Kev, cheese grater in one hand, avocado in the other. (She would get her guacamole). (Almost fresh) Kev never stood a chance. They had to bury him in a closed casket. The mortician never did get all the avocado out of (not so fresh) Kev's nasal passages.
And Rupe?
Ended up in the nuthouse. Working in the kitchens. But never allowed near salad, again. Because even the sight of Frisee was enough to send back around the bend.
And his American?
No one knows for sure. Rumor has it, she is still eating salad....

Friday Mieography

This day is the fourth of July. To those of you across the pond, (with the exception of Holly) this may not mean much. But it is a day we celebrate our independence. Our growing up, and cutting the apron strings from the "mother country. Stopped making tea properly. Forgot what scones were and started calling biscuits cookies.

Any how.

any old how.

Here she is. My girl friday. The Statue of Liberty. I thought she would be a good one to look at, today. Our independence day.

France, back when they liked us, wanted to give us a gift to mark the Centennial of the Declaration of Independence. They commissioned a sculptor, Frederic Bartholdi, to make the gift. He built the first model, on a small scale, in 1970. )this one now stands in the Jardin du Luxembourg, in Paris.)
Bartholdi went on a visit, to Egypt, and got inspired by the Suez canal. While there, he got a grand idea to build a light house for the entrance of said canal. Unfortunately, his plan never came to commission, because the Egyptian government could not afford his work. So he transferred his grand plan to this particular statue.
It was agreed she would be a joint effort, with the Americans responsible for the base, and the French people responsible for the statue, and it's assembly. The french had to raise $250,000 (much money for that era) to uphold their end of this deal.
Bartholdi required the assistance of an engineer to address the structural issues related to building such a massive, copper sculpture. Gustave Eiffel was commissioned to design the rather large iron pylons and the secondary skeletal frame work needed. However, he had a 'side kick', a structuran enineer name Maurice Koechin, whom he delegated the dtail work to.
The original plan was to finish and present the statue to the US on July 4, 1876, but a late start, and delays prevented this. By that time only the right arm and torch were completed. THese were displayed at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, where visitors were charged 50 cents to climb the ladder to the balcony. The money from this was used to start funding the pedestal.
By June 30, 1878, at the Paris Exposition, the completed head of the statue was displayed in the garden of the Trocadero palace, and other pieces were on display in the Champs de Mars.
In the US, a site was selected to display the statue, in the New York Harbor. The island, at that time was known as Bedloe's Island.
In February of 1879, Bartholdi was was granted a US patent on "a statue representing Liberty enlightening the world, the same consisting, essentially, of the draped female figure, with one arm upraised, bearing a torch and while the other holds and inscribed tablet, and having upon the head a diadem, substantially set forth". The patient was VERY specific as to how she should look. The financing for the statue was finally completed in 1882.
THe fund raising for the pedestal was taking longer, however, until Joseph Pulitzer (of the Pulitzer Prize) took matters in hand. With his help, and the help of Senator Evarts and the American Committee, the rest of the funds for the pedestal were gathered.
THe construction of the statue was completed in France, in July of 1884. THe cornerstones of the pedestal were laid in August of 1884. She arrived in New York harbor on June 17, 1885, on board the french frigate, Isere. She was reduced to 350 pieces packed in to 214 crates. It was stored for eleven months, waiting for its pedestal to be completed. It took four months to assemble. On Ocober 28, 1886, the Statue of Liberty was unveiled by President Grover Cleveland. She functioned as a lighthouse from 1886 to 1902.
THere are 354 steps inside the statue, and it's pedestal. There are 25 windows in the crown, and the tablet in her hands reads, in Roman Numerals, July 4, 1776".
A new torch has replaced the original, which was deemed beyond repair due to exptensive modifications in 1916. The original torch is now in the monument's lobby museum.
The interior of the pedestal contains a bronze plaque that bears the poem "The New Colossus", by Emma Lazarus.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

but I love you all!

See this? I got it from the lovely and talented Daryl.
And I am supposed to pass it on.
And I want to.
But I am dead tired.
All of you, in my blogroll
you are there for a reason. It is because I enjoy reading each and every one of you.
So consider yourselves gifted with this lovely award.
I am going to bed now
zzzzzzzzzzz

Wordless Wednesday

The art of writing letters

The advent of email, and computers and all of our modern technology is staggering, isn't it?
Most of us remember typewriters, word processors, ect. I wrote all my school papers on those, or by hand. It wasn't until late in nursing school that we had a computer at home for me to use. And it was with one of those slow, grinding printers....
Anyhow. The point?
Real, handwritten honest to goodness letters.
I can't remember the last time I got one. Or wrote one.
A few years, at least. I have this friend, from Nursing School who stubbornly refused to get a computer. She sent me letters. She has since folded her non computer stance and is now a Myspace Queen.
What about kids?
Do they know how to put pen to paper?
And consider this. MM was just telling me his Mom saved all the letters his Dad wrote to her. (aww). His Dad was Navy and used to go on cruises. With the advent of email today, and yes, they have it on the ships. How romantic is it to have print outs of emails? I think it is much better to have the hand written kind, much read, I am sure. That physical reminder, a piece of paper that he held, and wrote on, and sealed, that she then held, and opened, and read. Sure, it takes a few days/weeks. But the memory is priceless.