In Which I Grouse About Punctuation & Think Fondly Of Erma Bombeck

March 24, 2015May 6, 2021 / Ally Bean / 18 Comments

I RECEIVED an invitation to attend a talk, at a university, given by an author. Profits from the talk go to support the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, so it’s a good event to attend.

However, I find the invitation to be lacking, in a most disturbing way. A way that displeases me, an English major and blogger extraordinaire.

A way, I have to believe in my educated-by-this-very-university heart of hearts, that would also displease Erma, a newspaper columnist and author.

~ ~ • ~ ~

AND HERE is what I’m talking about. One of my pet peeves is that periods [as in punctuation] are disappearing, inexplicably, from the end of sentences.

Look at most billboards anymore.
Look at tag-lines on advertisements. On the sides of trucks. On the packages which hold the food you eat.
Look at this invitation in which many lines of words are sentences, but WHERE ARE THE PERIODS?!!

~ ~ • ~ ~

HEAVEN KNOWS that I’d have flunked out of this university if I’d indulged in such disregard for punctuation. I’m trying to not take this personally, but the evidence in this invitation shows…

A total lack of concern. For the very thing that I hold dear. Proper punctuation. Used almost frivolously. Stylishly. And without regard for cost.

Which is the only reason that I can fathom for why periods are disappearing from the end of sentences. I have to suspect that in these economically challenging times, the up-charge for adding them to any written communication is so costly that leaving them out helps the bottom line.

That’s the reason, right?

QOTD: What Are Your Dreams For This Spring?

March 19, 2015January 24, 2016 / Ally Bean / 28 Comments

Always looking forward. Always planning. Influenced by ~~Arrowsmith~~ Aerosmith. I’m rarely without a list of what I need to do next.

Usually my lists revolve around practical matters, but occasionally I make a personal list of a few simple things that I want to accomplish. So without further babble, I give you…

My “Dreams For Spring” List

I want to go for a walk almost every day. There will be no numerical goals attached to this walk, I just want to move more. Rain be damned.

I want to bake muffins. The reality here is that for months I’ve said that I’m going to start baking again– then I haven’t done so. However, now that it’s on my list, let muffin-palooza begin.

I want to travel somewhere. While this may seem vague, I’ve learned that when I talk about a specific vacation, the gods start screwing around with my life. So mum’s the word. I’m going to sneak travel by them this time. You just watch and see.

I want to work in the garden. Last year I was lazy about gardening because– well, I haven’t a clue why I was, but I was. This year I’m planning some new features out there– and some new color schemes. Nothing like a design project to ramp up my interest and keep me enthused.

# # #

So here’s the Question of the Day, presented to you on the last full day of Winter:

What are your dreams for this Spring?

Answer in the comments below and I promise that we here at The Spectacled Bean will cheer you on to victory!

# # #

In Honor Of St. Paddy, A Story About Corned Beef & My Daddy

March 17, 2015January 28, 2021 / Ally Bean / 16 Comments

Here’s a memory from my childhood, which was in many ways more unusual than most. 😉

St. Patrick’s Day reminds me of my father.

He loved this holiday, partly because of his Irish heritage and partly because of the whisky [and whiskey] that flows on this day.

Among the many things that I could tell you about him, I’ll start with the fact that he was a genius. As in, GENIUS. Scary smart. Wickedly funny. Strangely conservative.

Always up to something batty in his spare time.

He was a foodie long before that term existed, and being a physician he thought that he could make anything, no matter how obscure, if only he had a good recipe.

• • •

So one day when I was about 8 years, Dad decided to make Corned Beef.

He bought cookbooks & researched recipes. He bought the perfect pickling spices from catalogues. He bought many large 10 gallon stainless steel cans with lids. He bought 7 or 8 different cuts of meat after talking with meat cutters about which ones would be best. He bought gallons of premium vinegar.

Then he set about making Corned Beef. Lots of it.

This required brining solution, boiled in huge pots on the stove top; large containers in which to put the beef, with brining solution, as it pickled; a cool place, like the basement, to leave the containers; and the ability to turn the containers every so often so that the beef was evenly brined.

It was a mess to make.

• • •

During this activity, my mother and I watched.

She was not thrilled with his latest excuse for spending money; but I, on the other hand, found it fascinating to see what was going to happen next. I had my doubts, but then again I’d seen this guy successfully do many a nutty thing, so I was rooting for him.

Well, as it turns out, when one is making Corned Beef from scratch one can determine if the brining process isn’t going well by using one’s nose.

That is, the meat begins to rot.

It fills a home, from bottom to top in our case, with a pungent carrion potpourri. Easily distinguished from any other normal home scent, by anyone who is willing to admit that there’s a problem here.

• • •

But Daddy wasn’t immediately willing to admit defeat. NO WAY. For days he refused to say that anything was wrong, determined instead to make his project work through the magic of denial.

But he didn’t succeed.

Eventually, my mother convinced him that he had to throw out the rotting meat, and begrudgingly he did so. Then he went to the grocery store to buy a piece of Corned Beef so that we might have it on St. Patrick’s Day.

Providing for us a holiday meal that could well be the most expensive one we ever had!

[Images from here.]

A Harbinger Of Spring: Hello Mr. Stink Bug

March 16, 2015May 6, 2021 / Ally Bean / 12 Comments

AN EXEMPLARY PHOTO:

AN ERUDITE POEM:

The itsy bitsy stink bug walked ‘cross the window sill,

down came the shade and made him take a spill.

Up came the shade and found him walking tall,

and the itsy bitsy stink bug was not fazed at all.

AN ELUCIDATORY PARAGRAPH:

We started spring cleaning over the weekend. Or, to be more accurate, we started Spring Let’s-Get-Rid-Of-All-This-Stuff-In-The-Basement-ing over the weekend. As we did so, a friendly, non-judgmental stink bug, who wanted nothing more than to continue to live on our window sill, regardless of the amount of junk in our basement, watched us. And then, without any qualms whatsoever, he posed for a photo.