"P" is for Punky's Dilemma

Click here for more lyrics from Bookends

Ever since I first heard this song, I liked it. Especially the part about the toaster...ease myself down, comin' up brown. I mean, how cool is that! I pictured myself getting a scrumptious tan -- for just once in my life. I was about 18. That seemed to be a big deal at the time.

Well, here are the lyrics, taken right off the original Bookends album by Simon and Garfunkle.

Punky's Dilemma (2:17)
P. Simon, 1968 

Wish I was a Kellogg's Cornflake
Floatin' in my bowl takin' movies
Relaxin' a while, livin' in style
Talkin' to a raisin who 'casionally plays L.A.
Casually glancing at his toupee 

Wish I was an English muffin
'Bout to make the most out of a toaster
I'd ease myself down
Comin' up brown
I prefer boysenberry
More than any ordinary jam
I'm a "Citizens for Boysenberry Jam" fan 

Ah, South California 

If I become a first lieutenant
Would you put my photo on your piano?
"To Maryjane-
Best wishes, Martin"
(Old Roger draft-dodger
Leavin' by the basement door)
Everybody knows what he's
Tippy-toeing down there for 

In comments, leave the title to one of your favorite nostalgic songs and a link to the lyrics for myself and others to check out :~)

"O" is for Olive Oil

For some of us, when you say Olive Oil, a shapeless, skinny-as-a-bean-pole, round-faced, rather homely gal (Olive Oyl) comes to mind, who had a big hankering for an even more homely spinach-eating sailor guy, who used lousy English, named Popeye. Cartoonist, Elzie Crisler, came up with the beloved female character in 1919 and brought the sailor into town in 1929 -- 10 years later.

But today I'm actually writing about Homer's "liquid gold" -- rubbed on the bodies of ancient Greek athletes, engaged as fuel for Herodian clay lamps, profited by soap makers, and endeared in Mediterranean cuisines.

Some sources say the Island of Crete is where the production of this unique oil began, about 3500BC, then later migrated to other areas because of Greek colonization. Others claim the trees were first grown for oil in Canaan (Israel) as far back as 4500BC. Why the concern? Because it is believed that if one finds the origin of the tree, you will have found the best tasting oil.

I was told that every brand will taste slightly different, so I went through a few to find my favorites. Also, I figured it would be okay to have more than one on the shelf, because they keep about a year before going rancid, as long as they're stored away from direct light.
  

A good Greek label, not too difficult to locate, is terra medi. Spain, presently the world's largest producer, has quite a few interesting brands as well. The oils from France and Turkey have not yet hit my palate, but I'm sure they are equally competitive in both price and flavor. Among the few Italian store-brands I've tried, I always come back to Filippo Berio.

Extra Light is exactly what its name implies -- it doesn't override the flavors of other foods when sauteing and cooking, and can tolerate a higher heat. Extra Virgin has the most intense flavor, and is usually chosen for salads, bread dipping and a bruschetta drizzle. But -- WARNING -- all Extra Virgins may not be what they claim to be as this report shows: Extra-Virgin Olive Oil Fraud: Whole Foods, Rachel Ray, Safeway, Newman's Own, Colavita, Bertolli. 

Olive oil is much like wine in variety, and I was really quite surprised to discover actual tastings are becoming popular. In fact, Filippo Berio even has a link to Host your own tasting. And just like wine, the craft has carried over to the states, with California out front. One I need to try is Williams-Sonoma, but perhaps Corto-Olive will be even better.

Click here to purchase book

My husband and I started our new year of 2011 with the intention of turning more toward a Mediterranean way of preparing foods, which is actually quite low in fat -- the bad kind anyway :~) So, I enthusiastically bought the two best books I could find on the subject:  

• The Complete Mediterranean Cookbook by Tess Mallos (Absolutely to die for if you don't know a lot.)

 

Click here to purchase book

• A Mediterranean Feast by Clifford A. Wright (If you're interested in the fascinating in-depth story from birth, of the merchants and the cuisines plus over 500 recipes, this is totally it.)

Both books have been used and enjoyed frequently over the past few months, as we have become thoroughly amazed at the exceptional difference olive oil makes in a recipe. The amount of butter and sugar I used to use in a month, now lasts an entire year!

Currently, I'm just waiting for a little of that old Olive Oyl image to start showing on me...not much...just a little. I guess it's another one of those things much like wine -- not before its time. LOL

"N" is for... What's in a Name?

What is in a name? If the meaning of a name always described the person, then everyone named Mary would be bitter, and all called Barbara would be barbaric. That cannot be all there is to a name. 

James Smithson, Smithsonian Institute

The names given to towns, streets, parks and even buildings have frequently been chosen just to recognize a certain individual or to commemorate a particular surname. Of course, this garners considerable significance for the name someone is given or born with.

Often names are chosen simply to honor someone in their family tree. My grandfathers' names were Cyril (German) and Gilbert (Danish). The first named his son, Cyril, but gave him a different middle name, disannulling him as a "Junior." 

There are 5 grandchildren in my parents' tree. Their names, from oldest to youngest, are: Christopher, Christa, Carrie, Chad and Chelsey. All "Cs" -- not planned, we didn't sit down and have a discussion about it -- it just happened that way.

My contribution to the mix was Christa. I wanted to give her some way she'd never forget Jesus Christ as she went through life. Such a simple thing to have it as part of her own name, I had thought, so that each time she wrote it she'd remember.

The names of my grandmothers were Hulda (German) and Uarda (Danish). Does anyone ever give their kids names like that anymore?! I haven't heard of it...in this country anyway. But that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. I would think it would be a bit tough going through school with names such as those.

I'm just as guilty for thinking up an odd name, as my next choice for a girl was to be, Tapestry Rose. "That's a hippie name," my husband insisted. He didn't appreciate it like I did. I loved the meaning that was conveyed by the concept of a tapestry -- beautifully and intricately woven together -- yet as soft and supple as a rose.

I have one final thought to consider...

Be careful not to laugh too hard if you hear of someone naming their next baby, Snicklefritz, because it just might become the name of the next school, park, or even the street that your great great grandchild decides to live on ;~)

"M" is for Moose-face!

Note: Okay...this is a re-post, as some followers might have noticed. I have tweaked it ever so slightly to post it in the A to Z challenge, because I believe it's worth revisiting. I trust you'll enjoy it as much as I.

My husband and I had this happen in the first year of our marriage... about 25 years ago. I could swear he called me -- right out of the blue -- a moose-face. 

When I exclaimed, "What d'ya mean, I'm a moose-face!!" he couldn't figure out why I (that's right, I was supposed to be the culprit now) -- why I suddenly brought up the word moose-face.

"Moose-face?" he retorted, "Why'd you call me a moose-face!"

Quickly and vehemently I replied, "I didn't call you a moose-face! You're the one who called *me* one!!"

He yelled, "When did I ever call YOU a moose-face?!!"

Shocked at his question, I shouted back at him, "Just now!"

In disbelief he cried out, "I was only repeating what YOU said!"

It soon was like the old Abbott and Costello routine Who's on first? -- only with mega-volume, in a car parked next to a public park, and quite late at night.

But, in only a matter of another minute or two, we had completely stopped arguing and had begun to laugh sooo hard we were both crying -- trying desperately to catch our breaths. To this day, when that word pops up in conversation, we end up nearly ROFLOAO, even as do our friends who've heard us tell the story many times.

We never did figure out what word he actually said that night. It didn't seem to matter anymore. Funny how it often works out that way. And, we still cannot -- for the life of us -- recall what we were even arguing about in the first place. Does it matter?

It's nice, though, to remind myself of these things, because humor is good for the soul. It somehow relieves pressure and makes life a lot more worth living :~)

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine..."  ~Proverbs 17:22a

"L" is for Learning, But Not to Have Learned

A great number of years ago, I was talking with a friend who wondered what I had been up to lately. In my reply I used the phrase, "I've learned that..." My friend listened intently, but every time I said learned, he interjected the word, learning. 

This continued as we hung out together over the next few days. Finally, I began to catch myself, saying, "I've been learning that..." or "I am learning..."

Why would this be such a big deal? My friend explained to me that to learn is a continuing process because life is always changing, and that to say learned -- ed -- is past tense, as if it's a done deal, and there's nothing more to learn on the subject. Then he asked, "Is that what you want?"

 

I have kept this lesson close to my heart throughout my life, always eager to learn, looking at learning as one of the greatest adventures in life. I have seen many things, but feel I am learning even more. 

Not only are there the many faceted perspectives I've acquired from which I can view life, but I have so much more to draw on in the multi-faceted views of all the people whose lives have intrigued me. I am thankful to all those who have, in some way, touched my soul. I also must agree that, yes, learning is a continuum.

Yet herein lies a funny thing. The older I get, I marvel at how easy it has become to remark, "If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's..." Please. Tell me this isn't happening!

Once again I find myself having to stop and reword my phrasing to say instead, "If there's one thing I am learning in life..." Let me never allow myself to put a cap on my learning...until the day of my last breath, and I'm 6-foot under, pushing up those proverbial daisies :~)

"K" is for K - an Affinity; a Kinship

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One thing I love about blogging is how much it helps to increase my understanding of words. As I write, I may have a certain word in mind that might be good to use, but I look it up in 3 or 4 sources first, just to be sure it'll say exactly what I want it to. 

Of course, then there's the possibility that a reader may not do the same, i.e. look it up, and just might have a different idea in mind when they read that word. To a certain extent, that's the chance a writer takes. But on the other hand, that's also part of the trust relationship between the one reading and the one writing, i.e. that the words were chosen to the best of that writer's ability in considering his or her audience. But isn't this true of all communications?

Language skills and our use of words should be, I would think, highly respected and guarded, as in protected or preserved. Hard to admit, but integrity in saying what is meant and meaning what one says, is almost a lost art in this day and time. It has become much more commonplace to read between the lines -- almost expected. If authors thought that way as they wrote, we probably wouldn't read books.

So...all of this being said, allow me to share a definition (or two) that I found today for the word, affinity:

1. A spontaneous or natural liking or sympathy for someone or something, 
2. A similarity of characteristics suggesting a relationship; a kinship.

I have a definite affinity with the letter K. You may think I say this simply because my name is Kathy. Aahh...true, but it goes much deeper since my given name was actually Mary Kathleen. You see, because my mom's name is Mary, and Junior doesn't work very well for a girl, they chose to shorten my middle name to Kathy, for...uhh...practical reasons?! That's okay. I finally made my own preferences official, causing a strong affinity for the name, M Kathy.

Etching in a Granite Monument

Another strong affinity is with my maiden last name -- Kalkman. It's German, meaning man who works with stone. This holds special interest to me, because my great grandfather started a monument business called Melrose Granite Company. Both my grandfather and my dad worked for Melrose, not as stoneworkers, but as sales reps for the business. That's a paradox to me, which intrigues me, which somehow causes a greater affinity to that name, which begins with...

Then I married Kelly, whose given name was actually Kevin, who has a brother and only sibling named Kerry. Go figure. You would tend to think I must have a thing for K's. 

 

And to think...I was almost going to write about kites today...of which I have absolutely no known affinity!

"J" is for Jumping Jacks

Have you ever tried to do a thousand jumping jacks? 

You get to 100...200...300...and you just keep going until your legs turn to rubber. Then you finally look down to see if those rubberized appendages are okay, and they aren't even moving...but you thought they were.

You're thinking you should quit. You're thinking it's all good because at least you tried. That's when you hear the voice of your favorite Star Wars' character:

 

"No," scolded Yoda. "Do, or do not. There is no try." 

So you ignore the sensation and continue to "jump" with your arms flaggling in the air as if you no longer own them. You have no idea what number you're on, but someone else is counting for you, so it doesn't matter. 

Then it happens. Suddenly you realize neither your arms or legs are actually moving -- not even twitching -- but somehow your mind is convinced you're still doing jumping jacks. Reality creeps in and you are terribly aware of how silly you must look. 

You glance around only to discover that many of the other jumpers aren't moving either, or have melted to the floor. The leader is still up front, jacking with near p-e-r-f-e-c-t form, while counting aloud. How does he do it?!! you ask yourself. 

Finally, the counting stops. It's over. And...you're still standing! You try to walk away, but can't. So you sit down right in the middle of the floor where you were once-upon-a-time jumping a jack...now...recovering. 

Carefully stretching each muscle as your breath and pulse return to that familiar quiet and steady rhythm, you start to feel as if someone just figured out how to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Ever so slowly, you rise, and methodically walk away.

You know you are no longer the same person. You've changed. But you can't explain exactly how. You smile with satisfaction as a solitary yet powerful thought comes to mind:
     I was still standing :~)

"I" is for Island - the Catalina Kind

I always thought there is one thing I am not, and that's a romantic. Who's a romantic? Or should I say, What's a romantic? Actually, either one will work. At least the online dictionaries don't state much difference between the two.

Romantic ~ adj.

1. Inclined toward the feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love; as a romantic candlelit dinner
2. Relating to love, esp. in a sentimental or idealized way; as a romantic comedy
3. an idealized view of reality 
4. relating to the artistic and literary movement of Romanticism 

After reading through those definitions, I would still tend to believe that I'm really not much of a romantic. But...I'm also starting to realize that I may have been lying to myself. 

Cao Yong ~ The Vision Beyond

Why? Because of these other definitions I found: 

• passionate and imaginative, rather than structured 
• a soulful and amorous idealist to the extent of being impractical 
• a visionary

These insights reveal why I might also be part of that illustrious group of dreamers called romantic, and perhaps this also explains why I would choose Catalina Island as my #2 choice for a vacation. 

It was our first real vacation -- the kind that you actually go somewhere other than visiting family. All the plans were in place -- two complete days of fun at Knott's Berry Farm, Movieland Wax Museum and Disneyland, then over to Long Beach where my husband and I would board an early morning ferry headed for our romantic getaway on Catalina Island. 

Although there are actually two towns on the Island (Two Harbors being one of them) Avalon is the port of entry. It has a very beautiful bay, especially at night when the entire beachfront comes alive with its inhabitants seeking fresh fish cuisine or an evening stroll.

We chose the Victorian-style, historic Glenwood Hotel for our 3-day stay. They offered a wine and cheese social every evening, and a continental breakfast in the same courtyard where luminaries such as Amelia Earhart and Teddy Roosevelt often sipped their tea. The crowning touch was our room, which pleasantly depicted a bygone era, along with a very comfy bed. 

The best Italian restaurant I've ever eaten at was Prego's on Catalina Island -- an ultra tiny, family-owned taste of Italy on the waterfront, all done up in red checkered gingham on the tables and in the windows. I asked if they were connected to the grocery store sauce, and was informed they were one of a kind...no others...including the sauce.

So...maybe you're wondering why I called Catalina my #2 choice for a vacation. Maybe, just maybe, you thought for a moment and wondered what my #1 choice might be. Answer? The Grecian Islands...sigh. 

Okay. So...no...I'm not a romantic. Me?! Uh-uh...not at all. That's why I write NON-fiction...right??! ...HA!

"H" is for Hennessy - Mixed by Ray

This is not my normal subject or purpose in writing, but I simply have to tell someone about this new drink I invented...well, me and Ray.

Last night, my husband and I simply had to take one of our best friends (visiting from out of state) to this super cool speakeasy-type jazz bar under the historic Armstrong Hotel, called Ace Gillett's. Their house band, John Olson's Subterranean Jazz Trio, was setting up as we were being escorted to our table. That's when we asked for our favorite server.
 
Kelly has the looks, charm and personality that appeal to both men and women -- a very rare quality. She brings half the fun of the night to the table, and makes you feel like she's the genie in the bottle, saying, Your wish is my command.

When Kelly asked for our first round of drinks, I was utterly stumped. I knew the master bartender was nearly a drink genius, so I told her I was in the mood for something with brandy or cognac, mixed with kahlua and topped with Gran Marnier. She replied, "Martini?" I nodded and she headed for the bar to talk it through with Ray.

In the end, I received one of the yummiest martini drinks ever, that even included a reasonably yummy price tag. I began with Korbel Brandy, but switched it up to Hennessy Cognac VS for my 2nd and 3rd rounds.  

This is paradise, I thought. Smooth to the palate, tingly-warm going down, and an almost chocolaty finish. I decided to call it my:
                     Kahlua-Cognac Gran Maritini.

This is why "H" can only be for Hennessy...at least for now :~)) 

NOTE: The pictures of Ace Gillett's and Ray are courtesy of Ace Gillett's on Facebook.

"G" is for Ginger

2008 proved to be quite an eventful year for me. 

The four of us -- my mother, my husband, his mother with her Bijon Frise, and me -- all moved into this little green remodeled ranch-style house built in 1980. Nothing too fancy, but it was home.  

In fact, some of you may have read the story of how my husband dug a hole for the koi pond in the frozen, mud-packed, March earth amidst the roots of the aspen trees just outside our front door. 

By July we needed to replace our teal 1993 Ford Crown Victoria, so we chose to lease a new red Mazda CX-9. A wise choice, but I'd never recommend acquiring a new car in the first year after closing on a home.

What's all this have to do with "G" for Ginger!?

Well...not even a month later, we found ourselves looking for a way to break up boredom, when I suggested driving down the road to where an animal rescue tent had been set up...just to take a look. So that's what we did...with one exception.

I was ready to leave when my husband informed me that we didn't drive down there just to go home empty handed. Yikes! This really wasn't part of my plan to break up boredom. I turned towards him and said, "But there's only one dog here that I'd be interested in...that tiny female blonde Cocker Spaniel." She just sat there -- upright, sort of regal-like -- quietly observing everything going on in the midst of all the chaotic hub-bub. 

We soon learned how that little dog had lived her entire 5 years as a puppy-mill mommy, still showing evidence of nursing her last litter. The only home she had ever known was a wire crate about 2 feet off the ground. Sadly, green grass, toys and a vet were foreign to her, as was good food and exercise. That made it a done deal.

Once home, we  began to try on a dozen or more names over the next few days. The Rescue had named her Chloe, but that was not going to work for us. We finally chose Gingersnap, but decided to shorten it to Ginger. Somehow, it just seemed to fit.

So...they call this the kitchen.

Actually, I kinda like this grooming thing.

All mine!

This is a... toy.

They let me pick my bed out all by myself!

Am I dreaming or is this real?

Looking good and knowin' it : )

Practicing my new "p-l-e-a-s-e?"

This is where I learn tolerance.

Aaahh... MY chair!

Didn't know I'd fit under here so nicely :)

You moved MY rug.

Get off!?

Let me think about this...

Okay... but I want it back.

Finally, where it's supposed to be.

Do you want to... play?

They say I'm a little... dear?

Well, there it is. In a mere 6 months we had managed to move into our own home, lease a brand new car, and rescue a dog. Yes, 2008 was quite an eventful year indeed, as were these last two with our Ginger.