I have not been sleeping well of late. Instead of my usual seven hours solid, I have been having semi-sleep, mostly dominated by murky remembrances of past stupidities and current worries. Yes, I am a world-class fretter, especially about things I can't do anything about.
I had extreme night fears as a child and teen-ager--my bedroom was located in the front of the house, away from the others, the windows were usually wide open, and the nighttime breezes would gently billow the lightweight curtains out toward my bed like unwinding gravesheets. Yes, my imagination worked overtime. To distract it, I told myself stories.
Obviously, if I ever want to sleep well, again, I must get started on that new romance plot.
Gotta get cracking on the new plot,
And when Fio writes romance, she writes hot--
To knock those ghosts right out of her head,
She's gotta think of sex instead.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Linguistic Lady Speaks UP
You've heard it before. Never use a preposition to end a sentence with.
Where did that rule come from? Probably from an analysis of Lain, which prescriptive grammarians put a lot of faith in. I like Latin, which I almost majored in. However, Latin is Latin and English is English--I could go on and on. In Latin, one can't end a sentence with a preposition because prepositions are heavily tied to their noun cases, which they must appear in front of. English doesn't have much of a case system so we let that old "rule" slide by. There might be stylistic reasons for seeking another way to kill off that sentence-final preposition, but grammatically speaking, let it live on.
An old joke told me by Friend Carol is what I'll end with. A Texas lady turned turned to a couple sitting near her at a conference and said "Where y'all from?"
"A place where we don't end our sentences with prepositions," the woman replied.
Not at all fazed, the Texanne countered with "Well, where y'all from, bitch?"
Where did that rule come from? Probably from an analysis of Lain, which prescriptive grammarians put a lot of faith in. I like Latin, which I almost majored in. However, Latin is Latin and English is English--I could go on and on. In Latin, one can't end a sentence with a preposition because prepositions are heavily tied to their noun cases, which they must appear in front of. English doesn't have much of a case system so we let that old "rule" slide by. There might be stylistic reasons for seeking another way to kill off that sentence-final preposition, but grammatically speaking, let it live on.
An old joke told me by Friend Carol is what I'll end with. A Texas lady turned turned to a couple sitting near her at a conference and said "Where y'all from?"
"A place where we don't end our sentences with prepositions," the woman replied.
Not at all fazed, the Texanne countered with "Well, where y'all from, bitch?"
Friday, September 5, 2008
Precious
Has anyone out there read the Precious Ramotswe books besides me? Tears of the Giraffe, The Kalahari Typing School for Men, etc?
Precious Ramotswe is a "traditionally built" Botswanian woman who founded the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency and has been the leading character in eight or so books by Alexander McCall Smith. I love Precious Ramotswe. She's older and less physical than Stephanie Plum, but she's also wiser and more caring.
The books are more than detective stories. They are paeans to Africa, or at least to Botswana, a poor, AIDS-ridden, politically stable country on the edge of the Kalahari. I've learned a lot about traditional African life from the series, and about the philosophies and attitudes of the people. Mma Ramotswe makes me want to visit Botswana someday.
How about you?
Precious Ramotswe is a "traditionally built" Botswanian woman who founded the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency and has been the leading character in eight or so books by Alexander McCall Smith. I love Precious Ramotswe. She's older and less physical than Stephanie Plum, but she's also wiser and more caring.
The books are more than detective stories. They are paeans to Africa, or at least to Botswana, a poor, AIDS-ridden, politically stable country on the edge of the Kalahari. I've learned a lot about traditional African life from the series, and about the philosophies and attitudes of the people. Mma Ramotswe makes me want to visit Botswana someday.
How about you?
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Snippets from Real Life
It's the style now--pregnant women wear clothes so tight that their belly buttons show, and non-pregos wear what look like old-fashioned hatching jackets.
***
Logically, there is no such thing as an absolute vacuum. By definition, it would collapse in on itself.
***
I think I have an oral fixation. I am happiest when I am singing or eating--or kissing.***
Even the best nursing homes are places where residents lose their belts, wallets, hearing aids, glasses, teeth, mobility, dignity, and minds. Old age is a relentless thief.
***
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Extracurricular Navicular
Fiorella has an extracurricular navicular, known to podiatrists as an accessory navicular. Or at least that is how she has diagnosed herself from her perusal of the web.
In other words, her foot hurts.
It turns out that not all God's children have the same number of bones in their feet. Some of them, usually women, have an extra bone in the instep, an accessory navicular, which can separate from the full-time navicular and lead to trouble.
Whatever the problem turns out to be,
Let's hope that it won't require sur-ger-y.
In other words, her foot hurts.
It turns out that not all God's children have the same number of bones in their feet. Some of them, usually women, have an extra bone in the instep, an accessory navicular, which can separate from the full-time navicular and lead to trouble.
Whatever the problem turns out to be,
Let's hope that it won't require sur-ger-y.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Hillary's Teeth
To many of us, Hillary Clinton represents every woman who thought she had a chance and got kicked in the teeth for her efforts.
I remember when I was in undergraduate school and was turned down for a scholarship despite good references and a high GPA. When I inquired, Mr. Carpenter, the scholarship director, said, "You're married. You'll just get pregnant and drop out."
Well, I didn't get pregnant and drop out. In fact, I made Phi Beta Kappa and earned a Ph.D. in linguistics. Meanwhile Mr. Carpenter embezzled the scholarship funds and fled to Pennsylvania.
I have always wondered about that--why Pennsylvania? Did he think it was a foreign country? Had he, perhaps, confused it with Transylvania?
His feet may have been good for kicking, but his brain was good for nothing.
I remember when I was in undergraduate school and was turned down for a scholarship despite good references and a high GPA. When I inquired, Mr. Carpenter, the scholarship director, said, "You're married. You'll just get pregnant and drop out."
Well, I didn't get pregnant and drop out. In fact, I made Phi Beta Kappa and earned a Ph.D. in linguistics. Meanwhile Mr. Carpenter embezzled the scholarship funds and fled to Pennsylvania.
I have always wondered about that--why Pennsylvania? Did he think it was a foreign country? Had he, perhaps, confused it with Transylvania?
His feet may have been good for kicking, but his brain was good for nothing.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Naked Chests and Coy Backs
Have you noticed how many paperback romance novels have naked-chested men on them lately? Actually, not the whole man--no head or legs, just the chest, which looks so pumped with steroids that it might burst open any moment. I have a theory that it's the same chest on every book, and, like the anecdotal Christmas fruitcake, just keeps moving from cover to cover.
Their chests are as hairless as their jaws, a big switch from a decade or so ago, when the leading men were all deliciously hairy-chested beasts who often sported long hair and five o-clock shadows. Many were even bearded. And a decade before that, mustaches were all the rage.
I notice that female cover illustration is running to coy full-length rear views, preferably with dress fastenings half-undone. Well, at least it's an improvement over every other cover featuring a stiletto heel.
What's next? Who knows. Just so nobody brings back Fabio.
Their chests are as hairless as their jaws, a big switch from a decade or so ago, when the leading men were all deliciously hairy-chested beasts who often sported long hair and five o-clock shadows. Many were even bearded. And a decade before that, mustaches were all the rage.
I notice that female cover illustration is running to coy full-length rear views, preferably with dress fastenings half-undone. Well, at least it's an improvement over every other cover featuring a stiletto heel.
What's next? Who knows. Just so nobody brings back Fabio.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
