Hagiography

I learned a new word today:

hagiography

noun - 1. a biography of a saint
2. an uncritical biography, treating its subject with undue reverence.

Why does this interest me?

Well, just so happens my nickname is college was "Hag." (If you know my maiden name, you'll get it.) And the recent death of a good friend had me thinking about the kinds of things that might be said after I die. You know, the old what-do-you-want-people-to-say-at-your-funeral approach to life. It seems to me that it would be entirely appropriate for someone to write, not just a biography, but a hagiography about me. It's considered polite to speak well of the dead, so just step it up a notch to "undue reverence." Or maybe just say I'm a saint.

I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?





















*added 2-26-10: I read Fifth Business for the first time last weekend (I know, still working through my college text required reading. Don't think the teacher will accept the paper 20 years after the fact though ...). Anyways, who knew there was a novel that actually uses this word? A LOT, too?

Okay, probably my college professor ...

The secret to lasting happiness

Having a bad day? All you need to do to lighten your mood is find a funny cat video (or a funny cat). There's really nothing funnier than watching a cat do something - well - cat-typical ...

Hold on to your hats!

It has been "Toto-hang-on-tight!" windy here lately. Driving down the street is a discovery as we look for who's fence blew over in the night. And since I've gone to a short hair cut (not exactly on purpose), the only remedy for having my eyebrows raised as the wind threatens to pull my hair off is to cram a hat on and hope it stays.

But I learned some interesting things.

1. We don't have hurricanes on the west coast. We just call it "seasonal weather."

2. It turns out I can swing as hard as I want on my garden swing. It swings high enough to clear the cement retaining wall behind it.

3. Some trees flex better than others.

4. Raking our lawn really isn't completely necessary. We just need to learn to wait and then let the neighbor(s) downwind rake them for us.

5. Extra garden bricks and/or rocks are useful as well as occasionally decorative.

6. Our 5' x 6' kiddie pool is actually capable of becoming air born. ("Hey, just rake that up for me, would ya?")

Mixed messages

Like many people, I've been trying to keep an eye on the family grocery budget. And every once in awhile, I'll buy something just because it's cheap. Like eggplant. Or cauliflower. And I generally feel doubly virtuous because it's good for us AND it's saving us money. Except when my family won't eat it. Like the eggplant. Or the cauliflower.

Anyway, a couple weeks ago, whole chickens were on special. Really cheap. I mean, super duper really cheap. I have to explain that I don't roast whole poultry very often. My sister and I have a family tradition of phoning my mom on Thanksgiving to ask her why the turkey isn't cooked yet. And then we got smart and started letting my brother-in-law cook the bird. He's very good.

But this chicken was cheap. So I bought three. My thinking ran something like this, "This is super cheap. And even if we don't eat them, I could cook one and take it to the neighbors." I don't usually inflict untried recipes on neighbors, just so you know. But there's been someone in hospital, etc ...

Well, the ironic thing is that once I bought them, these chickens took up space in the freezer. So I had to cook one. And it turned out pretty good. A little dry but that's because I had to put it in a smidge early because I wasn't going to be home and SG was in a meeting so he couldn't baste it. But we got our rosemary-roasted chicken out of the oven and sat down to eat supper.

It was a beautiful moment. Practically Norman Rockwell.

And then it occurred to me that my children hadn't seen a chicken that actually looked like a chicken come out of the oven in, like, forever. Oh, well. A little to late to worry about that now. We're farm stock, after all, and they'll have to recognize the realities of life at some point. "Children, I have to tell you something - not all meat grows up wrapped in cellophane."

We all dished up and I asked the usual question, "How was school today?"

"It was great. We had a lady come and talk to us about not being cruel to animals."

Oh, well.

Jingle-itis

I thought I had it right.

For probably a couple decades now, I thought I had it right. And then I baked a pie.

See, we were in the grocery store the other day and they happened to have Sara Lee pies on special - buy one, get one free. Free pie?! Okay!

So we picked out two, an apple and a cherry. Let me mention that I am blessed, blessed, blessed to be married to a man that prefers store-bought pastry. In spite of the number of women that have given me a no-fail pastry recipe, SG still prefers the store bought pastry for his pumpkin pie. And with company coming, and a small shortage of time, I went on a pie-buying streak this Thanksgiving. If it helps redeem me a little, though, I make the filling right from a real pumpkin.

As I was baking the pie, I found myself humming a little jingle and realized it was the Sara Lee jingle. But one glance at the box stopped me cold. Mid hum.

The box said "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee."

What!!?!

That's not right!

I reread the box. Oddly enough, it still said the same thing - "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee."

For years (and years and years) I've been singing, "Nobody does it like Sara Lee."

Years.

And apparently I've been wrong the entire time!

The shock was too much. Sure, I ate the pie, but it was with a sense of disillusionment. Don't get me wrong - I didn't not like it. So I guess their slogan isn't all wrong. But how could nobody notice that it's a blatant double negative? What kind of message is that for a pie company to use? Is that really the best they could say about their pies? "Well, nobody doesn't like them..."

I may have just developed a small "doesn't like" for Sara Lee.