On the Hunt

Just about every website has a search function.

On most websites, this function has become like a far-too-eager host who can't bear to let you leave the party.

"Oh, no, please stay. Have another appetizer, the pigs in a blanket are really yummy, I promise. How about a coffee before you hit the road? I didn't get a chance to ask you about..."

I am always amused/annoyed by the results I get when searching for something that I think is pretty straightforward.

This morning, for example, I was searching ebay for an Alexandria, Virginia Guide from 1987. Apparently, nobody is selling one right now. As I would have expected, city guides from other years popped up. That made sense.

Then sports media guides from teams in Virginia came up. Okay, I get it, the words "guide" and "Virginia" were part of my search.

Then it got interesting. Here's what came up next:

- Rockabilly, a Bibliographic Resource Guide
- Half-nude photo of a woman, standing
- Signature by Harlem Renaissance author Arna Bontemps
- Book about a female equestrian
- USS Saratoga postcard
- Rod Steiger photo, circa 1950s
- BMW M4 Coupe ($50,000)

I'm not certain what the connection is between these items.

In any event, if it was the host's belief that I would get sidetracked into buying a car, I'm afraid they were disappointed.

Although, admittedly, I was intrigued by the listing for "hundreds of books your choice tarot religion novels." I was disappointed to learn there isn't really a genre called "tarot religion novels."

Alas, I left the party empty-handed.

Hedy Stuff

Last night I watched a documentary about Hedy Lamarr.

Ms. Lamarr came to this country from Vienna prior to World War II. She left her husband, a munitions factory owner who supplied materials to the Nazis. She was Jewish. Her father, whom she adored, died of a heart attack before he made it out of his country.

After hearing about a German u-boat that attacked a ship in which 83 children were killed, she decided she wanted to do something to contribute to the war effort. She paired up with a composer friend, George Antheil, and together, in 1941, they were granted a patent for a "Secret Communications System." The idea was to change radio frequencies to prevent Nazis from jamming what was essentially the first smart bomb.

She took her idea to the U.S. Government. They patted her on the head and told her to do something useful for the war effort. So she sold war bonds. Over $200,000 in war bonds.

Meanwhile, her patent sat around for years until someone found it and decided to turn it over to an engineer to see if they could make anything of it.

They could. And did.

Naval ships implemented her invention during the Cuban Missile Crisis and later in several military applications. The really cool part is that what is now known as "spread spectrum" technology led to the development of digital communication. So, essentially, Ms. Lamarr's invention was the basis for the creation of cell phones and wireless communication.

But she got no credit. For years.

Finally, in 1997, she and George Anthiel received the EEF (Electronic Frontier Foundation Pioneer Award. Also in that year, she received the BULBIE Gnass Spirit of Achievement Award, a prestigious prize for lifetime accomplishments. She was the first woman to receive the award.

At the end of the documentary, I wondered for awhile. Why is it so hard to imagine a woman so beautiful could also be so brilliant?

I thought about male actors and the historical perception we've had of them. Did anyone believe Cary Grant or Clark Gable was an airhead?

As she began to age and her beauty faded, Hedy became obsessed with plastic surgery. She told surgeons where they should cut and how they should graft the skin. The doctors said she was spot on. Other women heard and wanted their surgeries done the same way.

Ms. Lamarr was beautiful and brilliant and a little crazy (thanks, in part, to "Dr. Feelgood," who shot her up for years). She was married a bunch of times, but never found happiness there. She ultimately hid away from everyone, even her family.

I hope that, wherever her spirit resides, she is aware of the impact her invention has had on our little planet.

And that, in the future, we can give her the respect she so richly deserves. She truly was beautiful. All the way through.

Clipping Away

There are three types of people in this world.

Those who clip coupons and use them to save lots of money. Those who don't bother.

And folks like me, who clip coupons with the best of intentions, sort them by type of product, and put them in a special wallet in my purse. Then forget they are there until after I've done my shopping, vow I will use them next time, and three months after they expire, throw them away.

I am also guilty of going shopping without first checking the stack of coupon flyers Mr. Ginley sets aside for me from the Sunday newspaper. Later, after I have bought multiples of razors or vitamins, I will discover that I could have saved $2.00 on each of those products, if only I were better organized.

It's not that I never use coupons. I will remember, for example, to use the 25-cent coupon for the toilet paper that cost me $13.99. And when we go to fast food places, I frustrate Mr. Ginley by digging through my purse, insisting we could get two sandwiches for the price of  one, if only I was able to find the right coupon, and it wasn't expired, and if the coupon was for the kind of sandwich we had a taste for that day.

There are those who would suggest that I use my smart phone to pull up paperless coupons and emails that promise savings. But technology isn't all that. I have discovered that many times, the screen isn't scan-able or that my phone doesn't have enough oomph to access the internet at the critical time. Or the coupon excludes the one thing I am buying. So, I wind up shame-faced, with a frustrated cashier and a line of angry shoppers behind me.

I'm pretty sure that if I applied myself, I could be the wizard that my mom was. Back in the day, she collected both green stamps and Top Value stamps, pasted them into books, and bought rockin' stuff with them. She used her coupons faithfully. She was a smart shopper.

Alas, this apple does fall far from the tree. I do my best to buy stuff when it's on sale, but I'm no bargain hunter. I'm sure if I spent the time and energy, I, too, could acquire the "smart shopper" moniker.

Maybe someday.

For now, I suspect there are expired coupons in my wallet, waiting to be recycled into more coupons for me to clip and discard.

Just another part of the re-cycle of life.

Watch the Birdies

First of all, I'd like to thank my guest host, Mr. Ginley, for filling in for me in this spot last week while I attended my "Warblers and Wildflowers" weekend. Everyone will be happy to know, I'm sure, that he survived my absence just fine.

Next, I apologize to George for not capturing a photo of a warbler. I guess that task is best left to the professionals.

I honestly believed that seeing a yellow warbler on my first evening was a good omen. He was quite close, and using my sister's binoculars, I was able to observe him quite clearly. I was pumped for the weekend.

Alas, this was to be the best view of the trip.

I have never gone bird-watching before. The purpose of the weekend, for me, was to get out of Dodge and off the grid for three days and spend time with my big sister, Diane. In this regard, the trip was successful.

Over hill, dale, forest, mountain and grassland, I tromped along, in frost and sunshine, looking for birds. Along the way, I discovered that my binoculars were inadequate for the task. Also, that the holder of the binoculars was pathetically out of her depth.

Pretty Red Wildflower

I give props to our hosts, who gamely pointed out the birds for me. I could generally track them without my binoculars, but once I raised the lenses to my eyes, and before I could home in on them, they had moved on. My sister assured me it takes a lot of practice to acquire this skill.

I did manage to see a scarlet tanager, albeit from a distance. (I googled him to see what he looks like up close.) I got a good look at a red-winged blackbird and a Baltimore oriole ("No," I told Mr. Ginley, "not the ballplayer.")

Zebra Swallowtail

And, along with the rest of the group, I saw a turkey flying high overhead, a sight that amazed everyone.

What impressed me most about my guides was their ability to identify birdsong. Often, we heard before we saw. And I learned that one kind of bird can have many different calls, further complicating the process. I've always enjoyed listening to birds chatter and call to one another, but I guess I didn't appreciate the complexity of their conversation.

Most of the time, I kept to myself, adhering to the old saying that it's better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you're an idiot than open your yap and prove it.

I did step out of this mode, however, when I asked one of the guides if there was a difference between pigeons and mourning doves. She very patiently explained that the flying rats one finds in the city are the same family as doves, but not the same bird.

Centipede (not my hand)

I learned a lot last weekend. I enjoyed my time with my knowledgeable companions. They were kind to me, and I'm grateful for their patience. While I may never be a world-class birder, I appreciate Mother Nature in all her forms, and the folks who take the time to learn about her wonders.

Special thanks to my sister, Diane, who cut me a lot of slack last weekend. I tried not to embarrass her (too much). The best part of the trip was spending time with my big sister.

Next time, I promise to bring a second set of shoes and a pair of gloves.

And binoculars that are up to the task.

A Special Guest Post

April 28, 2018

A Special Guest Blogger:

Or Flipping Me the Birdies or The Birds but No Bees or Bye, Bye Birdies; Hello Butterflies.

As some of you followers out there in the real world may be aware, the usual author of this Blog is away for the weekend.  In her place today, I will attempt to explain.

Yesterday, My Lovely Bride traveled to Shawnee State Park in Southern Ohio for a few days of rest and relaxation with her sister, Diane.  In the process, leaving me alone except for Maggie to fend for myself.  My Lovely Bride assured me I will be able to stay alive until Sunday night.  She has left me a great deal of fruit and Tuna Pasta Salad.  But I found it was necessary to remind her of the four food groups that sustain most male life on this planet; which a she hadn’t yet provided for the weekend.  What are these four food groups I hear you ask?  These consist of the following; Potato Chips, Chocolate, Cookies and finally Soda Pop, specifically Vanilla Coca-Cola. 

Luckily for me, My Lovely Bride hunted and gathered those provisions from the list above.  I will not starve.  Unless I run out.

She was able to take leave of me in good conscience knowing I was well provided for.

When she told me of the plans for this trip I was I a bit taken aback.  She is going to be looking at birdies.  I had never before heard her talk of taking up golf.  She wasn’t talking about golf.  She doesn’t know the first thing about golf.  But did you know that people go out into the wilds of our beautiful lands to look at birds?  Me either.  And they look at butterflies too.  And wild-flowers.  I reminded her she was going out to almost the middle of nowhere to look at birds.  Why, did you know we have birds right here in our back yard?  Front yard, too!  I have even seen them across the street. I know.  I have seen them with my own eyes!  Maggie looks out the windows, front and back at them.  (For some reason; they seem to annoy her.)

We also have some flowers in our yard but mostly weeds but that counts as something doesn’t it?  We have those yellow things in the front yard.  (I have been informed those are daffodils.  Who knew?)  I have even seen squirrels in the yard.  I yell out the window at them because they are always digging up the grass to bury nuts.  But they, like My Lovely Bride don’t listen when I vent.

I haven’t seen very many butterflies in our yard but they are usually very small.

I told My Lovely Wife that I would be more than happy to download pictures of butterflies from the Internet and tape them up on the windows around the house.  She and her Sister could just walk around outside of our house and see “All of that Nature” and still stay in the civilized portion of our neighborhood.  And see the squirrels, too.  But, no such luck…

She insisted on this little vacation.  And off she drove, laughing hysterically.  

I sincerely wish and hope she has an enjoyable few days with her sister.  It will be fun.  I hope the sun shines while they look at the birds and the butterflies and the wild-flowers.  But I will miss her.  And I look forward to her return on Sunday night.

She will be back in this space next Saturday morning.  To one and all, have a wonderful weekend… (Just like My Lovely Bride)

The Magic of Branding

Harry Potter is getting his own show on Broadway.

Oh, to be J.K. Rowling these days.

It's hard to believe our friend Harry has been around for over 20 years -- the first book made its appearance in 1997. The seventh -- and final -- book of the series was published in 2007. Since that time, Harry Potter has become a franchise, popularized in movies, theme park exhibits and various and sundry merchandising. And, of course, there are the other books, the spinoffs, with stories about Hogwarts and Quidditch and such.

Admittedly, I was a big fan of Harry Potter. I rabidly read the first six books. Then slogged my way through the seventh, desperately cursing the lack of editing (the book should have been half the size). My son made it halfway through the last book and then bolted. I don't think he ever finished it. There came a point for me when I just didn't care anymore what happened to Harry. Who he ended up with. Or how his life turned out. Cold, I know. But we all have that moment when a beloved character jumps the shark.

I did take my son to see the first movie, but I haven't seen any of the others, and I probably won't. The original books were fresh and fun. But when you beat a dead horse, well...

Alas, Harry isn't the only abandoned fictional character. Many authors have a difficult time coming up with how to take a popular character of many novels and keep him/her from getting stale. On the one hand, it's a great problem to have, because you've already developed a character people are interested in. On the flip side, if your character doesn't live up to expectations, things can quickly get ugly.

I wish Harry all the best on his Broadway show. It's been a hit in London, which bodes well, I suppose. It would not appear that Pottermania is going to let up anytime soon. The kids who read the original Harry Potter books are having kids of their own. A new generation of fans, ripe for the picking.

J.K. Rowling, when asked what she considers the primary genre of the Harry Potter books to be, replied "death."

But I don't envision Harry Potter taking a dirt nap anytime soon.

Smiling Faces

I don't know why I find it so annoying when people tell me to smile.

Apparently, I'm not the only one. A coworker experienced this situation last week, and it prompted a lively discussion.

Admittedly, I am not a smiley kind of gal. There's far more snark than sunshine in my demeanor, an observation that will surprise no one who knows me.

Having a stranger telling me to smile sends my hackles into overdrive. What am I, a doberman pinscher? "Bark! Sit! Heel! Good dog!"

Perhaps it's that old chestnut of how women need to be pleasant and friendly and try harder to make the boys feel comfortable and not threatened. "Now girls, you have to play nice, or the boys won't like you!"

How many times are men told to smile?

All of this, of course, just deepens my scowl.

Fortunately, at this stage of my life, those who know me would not suggest that I show my pearly whites. I mean, if my mom couldn't get me to smile, it's unlikely the general populace will have better luck.

One year, when I was pissed at my mother, I refused to smile for my school picture. We'd had a fight about my hair. She insisted on pulling it away from my face ("you look so pretty"), I wanted it all one length and around my face. So I protested by sulking in the photo. In hindsight, she was right, of course, as moms generally are. I have a lot of hair and a small face, and it did look better pulled back. Wherever mom is right now, I'm sure she's smirking.

And, if I could have her back right now, I'd smile for her, all she wants.

But anyone else can stuff it. I smile when I feel happy or someone makes me laugh.

Otherwise, I'm gritting my teeth.

And yes, you can tell.