Total Intellectual Nonsense

Now, wouldn’t you agree that being flattered for the wisdom of one’s mind is indeed a warmer thing than being flattered for one’s beauty?

But here we run into so many problems. The intellectual mind is too conservative to be publicly displayed. And though intellect is a grand collective of sense, of the greatest quantity, and finest quality, yet there is no way to hand it over to others to touch and marvel over.

I suppose one could say, if I was an intellect, which I am not, that I could reveal the extent of my wisdom through new discoveries, grand oratories, a book, and the like. But without one great lot of public exposure, that kind of revelation could take forever.

It all sounds so impossible, finding a way to ‘show off’ intellect. But, amazingly, there has recently developed a solution that bypasses all the difficulties I have already stated. And this solution I have derived from the blessedness of idly watching television.

What I have noticed is a new form of ‘suffix-ality’ used to display intellectuality. I might not have noticed but the effect is a kind of ‘grammar tic’ that pains the ear and interrupts straight talk like a sour note in music. But at the same time, these are interjections that provide inarguable evidence of intellectual prowess.

For example: ‘Carnal’ becomes ‘carnality’. ‘Function’ becomes ‘functionality’ ‘Constitution’ becomes ‘constitutionality’. Words like this have no greater or lesser meaning than the original root word, but the shorter word cannot form the desired perception of wisdom beyond that of men or women of commonality.

So there you have it. Problem of show-casing intellectuality completely resolved. Who could have ever imagined that it could be so easy? Mentality transported with such swift verticality by simply discarding oh-so-dire plain English and replacing it with a new sophisticality of lingu-ality.

All together now in the midst of our happy dance…

Eurekus-ality!

Baby Business

My apologies for blogging so sporadically, but it is a busy time of year.

With gardening threatening to take up all my time very soon, I had to rush to complete another task. I wanted to make a welcome gift for a new little resident expected in our community in early June.

It has become a tradition in this area, that when a new wee resident moves in, Roberta makes that new babe a quilt. And so for this latest expectation in early June, I did just that. (unfortunately the picture is not as clear as I would have liked).

Now I found while shopping for fabric I couldn’t resist a flannelette of cute black and white sheep. But when the quilt was finished I felt it needed something to make it, you know, a little bit special. More special than just a repetition of black sheep bodies and white sheep bums.

So when assembling the quilt, I used white yarn and made quilting ties at the neck of the sheep. Worked okay but still that quilt lacked some special adornment. Unable to come up with anything, I asked Hub what to do.

I laughed at his suggestion and I continue to laugh at the result. He suggested I give one sheep a mouthful of green grass, and so that is what I did. Is it not both cute and funny?

Sating the 'Exploratory Palate'

This wee blurb is addressed to those with exploratory palates that yen for foods not yet tasted, not yet tried.

You don’t have to attend those exorbitantly priced restaurants springing up across the globe (that I heard about recently on the news). – with a mandate “To provide indulgence and satisfaction for those with an exploratory palate” through culinary offerings of braised, basted, and butchered emu, ostrich, kangaroo, monkey, snake, zebra, and even giraffe.

Bah, on that. If you want to sate an exploratory palate that yens for something new and untried, you can come at a bargain rate to my cabin in the woods. There we can feast on cornmeal mush, oatmeal gruel, and a warm chunk of char-basted and ash-anointed hard tack. Have you eaten any of these exotics? Have the like ever touched the sensitive part of your exploratory palate? I expect not.

With the utmost humility, I must confess that this is only a wee sampler. There are virtually an endless number of other innovative culinary surprises I could dig from historical archives and prepare for you as well. But that is not all. There are other enticements as well – beyond the sating of your exploratory palate.

The ambiance is just right and quite likely untried, as well.

Where have you previously dined in the cozy surroundings of an old wood stove, braided rug, and humming kettle? With squirrels peeking in the window and a large woodpecker overhead beating out a rhythm to a hummingbird’s fluid and flighty dance at the feeder.
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Now you know, and I know, how much today’s society frowns on the needless death of animals for the sake of snakeskin shoes, a fur coat, or a leopard purse. A sensible rule it would seem to me though I can’t say I am in agreement with the degree of reactionary shunning and deliberate sneering that take place when an individual in such attire (perhaps only through an act of charity), encounters on a busy street. This, despite the fact that that same individual may be, though poverty stricken, of a true and noble heart.

But the other rule, the rule that allows the massacre of animals for the sake of food has always seemed an acceptable rule as well. But don’t you see, this rule is only valid when there is a real need for sustenance, rather than simply an urge at the back of the throat for something untested and untried. The rules are sound when the fox fur is the only coat one has for warmth and zebra is the only thing of sustenance one has to survive. But these rules fully unravel, become N/A, when the only purpose is exploratory desires.

Makes me shun and shudder with dismay when I consider that the force and fulfillment of the ‘exploratory palate’ could ultimately evolve, when too many exotic animals have been harvested, to something even more extreme that I cannot bring myself to say. You know, the ‘C’ word! – big pot, big water, blazing fire.

But that is not to say that you don’t have the right to sate your ‘exploratory palate’ in a less negative way if that is what you need to do.

There are such a host of untried delicacies to choose from that eliminate the massacre of exotic animals. All you need do is come to my cabin in the woods and sop up your after dinner ‘Cornflower Blanc-Mange’ (cornstarch & milk, cooked and cooled), or your Potato Paste entree (potatoes, butter, and an egg), and drink your Dandelion Tea.

And to that repast I say, “Amen and Amen.”

‘Tis all well and good as long as you turn your plate upside down, leave your napkin wrapped utensils untouched, and keep your big mouth clamped shut when it comes to exotic animals.

Budgeting That Which Needs to Be

It has pretty much always seemed to me that life is a long stretch with plenty of time to lolly-gag and putter aimlessly about. And procrastination isn’t a crime as long as it causes no inconvenience to others. Always there are tomorrows, so many tomorrows, endless tomorrows.

And how did I come to this conviction? Easy enough. My sixteenth birthday may have happened in sixteen Gregorian Calendar years, but to me it seemed more like sixty years. Likewise the ten days proceeding Christmas on the Gregorian Calendar are actually more like fifty-four. High school Graduation didn’t happen for about forty-four years, and first job took forever, and marriage took forever, and career advancements took forever.

So of course I had to conclude after all that, that life is more a waiting game, than anything else. Everything is in slow mo, and so with so little time actually usurped by necessity, there is much time to burn.

But eventually all things ripen and as my elderly time of life approached, rather quickly, I must say, compared to my other milestones, I came to a puzzling alter-realization that not only is time sparse, but it moves at breakneck speed.

And so that is when I realized as well that I must move from my haphazard way of reckless burning of that irreversible duration that flows in synchronization with clock and calendar, to a stringent budgeting of time. That is, if I expect to realize any of my outstanding wishes, hopes, dreams, and endeavors. Or even, if I have any intention of completing the half-finished quilts and crafts in my basement storeroom.

Now if one takes the time to find out, there are a whole lot of things seniors should concentrate on. Though it seemed to me, in that which the experts advocated, I found very little scope or understanding of my own particular character, life, and situation. For example, I am the iconic symbol for how to bumble through half a century of living without planning or organization. And so now, what is step 1?

Critical and fundamental is this first step – to “set goals” and “get well-organized” (?).

And from thence, one must speedily get documents in order. Then examine investments and work out solid money plans. And also of critical importance, one must document ‘their wishes’ in some new context that falls outside of my long-understood, and your long-understood original meaning.

Are not “wishes” heartfelt longings? Not in this instance. They are called ‘wishes’ but even the simplest-minded can see that in this context there is some new cast of meaning that falls way outside of the realm of hopes, desires, endeavors, and…heartfelt longings. That is rather perplexing.

And what perplexes me even more is now, with more than a half-century of living-experience under my belt, of a sudden, I now find friendly-advice coming at me from every quarter (not just from the hardware store).

And not only that, when my advisors realize I have not faithfully, and diligently attended to the matters I have stated above, I find my reputation besmirched for side-stepping these ‘important issues’ in favor of doing other unrelated things. Like writing, blogging, crocheting, reading, and knitting.

But if I may digress—I need to tell you that gratefully, despite the nasty criticisms from outside advisors, I don’t have any of my kids sending me planning guides for ‘my wishes/longings’—or other unmentionables such as track-shoes, or exercise equipment, which is damn considerate of them. I don’t mind telling the world that if they did, I would be greatly offended.

But now, returning to our original topic, it seems to me that this is not a time to budget my meager monies, or a time to plan and organize papers, or a time to make wish lists –of a kind I fail to understand. How practical is that? The practical thing is to budget time, cause like I said before—I have too many projects to finish to ignore the compression of time.

And so, I have no time for fantastical ‘wish lists’. Instead, on a restrained budget of time I sit and knit and listen to the clock rampaging off the minutes.

But that is not to say that all that outside advice doesn’t cause painful guilt about whether this is the seasonable and profitable thing for me to do. Especially when I consider that the child’s socks I am knitting can be easily purchased ready-made for about $1.20.

I’m supposed to be on a budget and here I am running all my time-statistics into the red by doing such a stupid, impractical thing. Especially since I haven’t even contemplated the more important task of my ‘wish list’.

I see you nodding your head in agreement. You do agree, do you not?

But wait, not so fast. I have one more thing to tell you.

Last weekend, I had my two-year-old grandson stay with me for three days. When he came he had on the little woolly green socks I knit for him at Christmas time. He wore them on the first day. He wore them on the second day. And so on the third day, when I was helping him get dressed, I said, “Oh my goodness. You need some clean socks.”

I reached into his little overnight bag and got him a lovely pair of store-bought blue socks and slipped them on his little feet. (Amazingly at the age of two, Grandson already knows basic colors).

“Blue socks, no good! I don’t like blue socks!

And with that, he ripped them from his feet and adamantly stated. “Green socks good. I wear green socks!”

So now, say what you will, say what you may, about me being occupied in a tight budget of time on what is really important –getting papers in order, wish lists, etc. etc.

I am doing the most significant and important stuff I have to do despite tight timelines. I am in my chair, rocking, and knitting little woolly socks, while the clock ticks away at warp speed as freely as it pleases it to do.

I am engaged in the most worthy of occupations that fulfill wishes/longings (in a context that I understand), of a grandma and her precious little grandson.