Here lizard, lizard, lizard

ROFL!

My series of posts about the lizard shenanigans have, inevitably, brought to mind one of my all-time favorite commercials.

Every time I see this commercial, I laugh like that baby in last week’s post—the one that was inexplicably amused by tearing paper. My reaction to this ad is nearly as inexplicable. And attempting to explain it will likely ruin it, but I’ll try.

First of all, it’s the Taco Bell chihuahua. A chihuaha. And it’s calling Godzilla. “Here, lizard, lizard, lizard.” The sheer effrontery tickles me.

That tiny little thing.

Godzilla footsteps.

Boom, boom, boom!

Giant shadow.

I’m rolling on the floor right then. I don’t even need the rest of the spot.

But, then, does the chihuahua panic? Does it flee? Does it drop dead of a heart attack?

No.

The reaction isn’t total terror. It isn’t to give up. The reaction is purely practical.

“Uh-oh. I think I need a bigger box.”

I wish I could react to all crises in the same way.

Big problem. BIG. Get a bigger box.

I’m going to work toward that kind of sangfroid. When I get done laughing, that is.

Nothing to fear

but lizards in the house.

And the miracle is that I’m getting past that.

Actually, lest my sister refuse to visit me again, let me hasten to explain that I don’t have many lizards in the house. Hardly any. In fact, I’ve been here nearly three years, and the one of which I am about to speak is only the second. That’s not bad considering the number that hang around outside. (I have named the house Casa Lagarto, after all.)

Mostly, we have chameleons (which are, probably, really anoles) and geckos and a few skinks.

The lizard in my story was, I think, a chameleon. Although I have an easier time distinguishing them from the geckos when they are their native green. Once they’ve decided brown is the color of the day, it’s a little harder. But, judging by shape, this was a chameleon.

I have long been accustomed—well, okay—I have for a couple of years been accustomed to seeing the lizards scuttle around outside without the need for a gasp and an eek. I don’t even have that zero at the bone* feeling when I come face to face with an enraged anole hanging head height on the garage wall and inflating its throat and glaring at me.

This does not mean, however, that I want them to come to breakfast. And thereby hangs a tale.

Fortunately, thereby does not hang a tail. You do know that many a lizard will just leave its tails behind if you happen to grab it, right? Then, if ever, is the time for “eek”—and likewise, “ugh.”

But, I digress.

The breakfast lizard did not actually come to breakfast. It was not, in fact, anywhere near the breakfast table. I, however, had come downstairs early in the morning with a view toward getting something to eat.

The first thing to do, in my house, when you come downstairs of a morning is to open the curtains. You want to see the creek in the morning. Often, the coots are there to offer matutinal greetings. (Hah! Never thought I’d get to use “matutinal” in a sentence!)

So…I opened the kitchen curtains. I opened the venetian blind on the side window. I opened the bay window curtains. And then, I went to open the curtains to the two big picture windows, creekside. At this point, since I don’t have the official, I-picked-these-out-and-I-love-them window treatments, this requires the use of a long stick to nudge the 4 panels of temporary curtains aside.

One slides left, a second slides right, a third…holy cow! There’s a lizard on the window sill.

Eeek.

Outside, I am accustomed to the unexpected—if that’s not an oxymoron. Inside, it’s a little different. First, there’s the involuntary gasp and recoil, by which time it never seems to me that there’s any point in a scream of any sort. (I sometimes envy the women who scream. My reaction is always too silent to awaken the MotH.**)

But, eek. There’s a lizard on the window sill—and a MotH who won’t appreciate being awakened and who is, properly, scoff-ful (is that a word?) of irrational fears.

And then came the miracle.

I decided I—I!— would catch (and release, of course) the lizard.

Tune in tomorrow to hear how I fared.

* Dickinson, Emily, The Snake—but the principle is the same.

** MotH = Man of the House

Lots of fairies

Fairy hordes, in fact.

J. M. Barrie once wrote”when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born.” I always leave out the “new” part, because I prefer to think of it as “when a baby laughs, a fairy is born.”

On the other hand, today’s bit of fun would lead to serious fairy overpopulation if that were the case, so I may have to give up that idea. But I defy you to watch this and not smile.

And I suggest we all try to get back to a place where we can enjoy simple things this much.

I always try to think

before I talk.

If you guessed that headline is a quote from somebody named Smith, you are right! Because…it’s Smith Sunday!

Today, we would like to bring to your notice Margaret Chase Smith.

While we’re all being enthusiastic (or outraged, as the case may be) over Hillary Clinton’s past, and possible future, run for the Presidency—and some of us who are a bit older remember the excitement over Geraldine Ferraro’s nomination to the Vice Presidency—it’s worth remembering that Margaret Chase Smith was the first woman placed in nomination for the Presidency at a major party’s convention.

Ms. Smith served her country as a Congresswoman and a Senator and, until Senator Barbara Mikulski, was the longest serving woman in the Senate. What may be even more impressive is that she held an all-time voting record in the Senate until 1981. 2,941 consecutive roll call votes.

When you consider that, these days, legislators don’t seem to even show up to work, let alone vote, I think that’s pretty good. (Hey! Maybe we should pay them by the vote and see if that gets any more work out of them?)

She was also a moderate Republican and was not afraid to break ranks with her party when she disagreed with them.

Now, admittedly, she was only a Smith by marriage, but with a record like that—we’ll take her!

History of the World

According to children.

This has been bouncing around the internet for a while, so it’s entirely possible you may have seen it. I always like to revisit it, however, and it is an entirely perfect candidate for Silly Saturdays.

I think the following are among my favorites—because they seem to be true as well as funny:

He [Saint Paul] preached holy acrimony,

Queen Elizabeth was the Virgin Queen. As a queen she was a success.

Romeo and Juliet are an example of a heroic couplet.

and

Soon the Constitution of the United States was adopted to secure domestic hostility.

But there is a lot more inventive history there, so click on that link and enjoy!

Where will I be?

I wonder.

Where was I this time last year?

I don’t mean physically. My memory is not yet so far gone that I don’t remember my actual location. I am trying, though, to remember where I was mentally. Did I have a plan?

I don’t think so.

I think, at that point, I was still too absorbed in adjusting to our move and in trying to get the house in order to have a plan. I had a To Do list (I always do)—and I was letting that stand in for a plan.

It’s not really the same thing, however.

This year, I want to have a plan. I’d really like to put together some specific goals. I’m just wondering what they should be.

I don’t know about you, but I find that as soon as I start wondering what they should be, I’ve lost the battle. I spend so much time trying to figure out what the best path to take might be that I don’t take any path. I just wander aimlessly. Lots of interesting things happen, but they aren’t always the ones I’d like.

I’m reminded again of the Teddy Roosevelt quote I mentioned here. Because the worst thing you can do is nothing—and failing to plan pretty much leads to nothing.

Part of the trouble is that picking a goal opens you up to failure. I often think I’m reluctant to pick one thing because it closes off all the other possibilities. But it is just remotely possible that it’s a fear of commitment. If I don’t actually plan to write a whole novel, I won’t be disappointed in myself when one doesn’t materialize.

The way to think about that, however, is to remember that failing to meet a goal is a single failure, and failing to even make a goal means failure on all fronts. I won’t have written a novel or a play or remodeled the kitchen or lost 10 pounds or learned to cook or. . . .

So, I don’t know where I will be this time next year.

This time next week, however? I’m not going to be wondering what the plan will be. I’m going to have one.

The Empress

of the Blues.

Smith Sunday! In which we investigate other folks with the same last name as mine.

Today’s topic will be Bessie Smith, the Empress of the Blues (because, you know, with a name like “Smith,” you very rarely get to be associated with royalty). Bessie’s ‘title’ comes from her extraordinary popularity in the 1920s and 30s. She’s got recordings in the Grammy Hall of Fame, was inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame, the Big Band and Jazz Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame among other honors, had a commemorative postage stamp, figured in a short story by J. D. Salinger and a play by Edward Albee. She appeared on Broadway and made a film.

Not bad for a busker, I’d say.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MzU8xM99Uo&playnext=1&list=AL94UKMTqg-9Dff4ysz1YcPDSwUOhL1xB3

I’ve got a ticket to ride

Well, I will have one. Eventually.

I’m thankful today that I managed to get through yesterday without losing my wallet.

See, I went shopping again. Errands. The bank. The library. All kinds of opportunities—just like the day before—except, this time, I kept track of the wallet. Yay, me!

The other thing for which I am thankful—it was a very thankful sort of day—is that I got the last two Christmas presents. You know, the two that occur to you in the middle of the night. When you think, “Ooops, I forgot so-and-so,” or “Golly, whosiwatsis probably isn’t going to like that. I better get her another little something.”

Got ’em. Wrapped ’em. Stuck ’em under the tree.

Efficiency!

And the third thing for which I’m thankful—told you it was a very thankful sort of day—is the walk I took to the new Park-and-Ride.

First, the weather was gorgeous. 72 and sunny. Second, the MotH* walked halfway there with me—because the pizza place is on the way. Third, well…it is precisely 1.09 miles to the Park-and-Ride. Not as good, perhaps, as if it were precisely 0.25 miles to the Park-and-Ride, but, still…a reasonable walking distance.

I cannot wait until actual buses begin to show up at the Park-and-Ride. I don’t know their ETA, but the Park-and-Ride is an exciting development for these transplants from the big city. The idea that I might be able to get on a bus and go into Jacksonville to a play or a museum is very appealing.

There’s no earthly reason we couldn’t drive into Jacksonville to a play or a museum—and we have—but it just seems easier to take public transportation. When you spend years in NYC and can get anywhere by subway, the fact that you suddenly have to drive everywhere seems unreasonable. It is far too easy to decide not to go, instead. Plus, one learns too late that one cannot eat the way one did when days were spent trekking around the city, up and down subway stairs.

I have high hopes of the Park-and-Ride. Cross your fingers!

* MotH = Man of the House

Life is what happens

While you are busy making other plans.
~ John Lennon

Isn’t that the truth!

Also, that old line from Robert Burns’ poem, To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough, about how “the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley.”

But my tip this Tuesday is to take some time and plan anyway.

If your goal is an aimless ramble, it’s fine to set out with no particular destination. I’ve had some really fun excursions that began that way. The plan was to have no plan. We set out with no destination, stopped along the way at whatever roadside attraction caught our interest, and had a high old time exploring all kinds of oddities.

I’ve also had some expeditions of that nature that were total failures. Nothing interesting to do or see turned up, no place to get a decent meal, nowhere to sleep comfortably.

So, that’s a gamble. Fun (or not), and fine for an outing, but maybe not exactly a recipe for achievement.

You can’t reach a goal if you don’t have one.

We’re coming to the end of the year. Traditional stock-taking time. This is the point where we look back at how far we’ve come and measure it against where we wanted to be.

It’s often hard to focus on the big picture all by yourself.

Some people, a few, are very good at self-direction. Some people are able to use things like journaling to help them explore these questions and come up with a set of goals. Some people benefit from using a life coach.

One thing I’ve found very helpful in the past is a Mastermind Group. The structure involved in showing up at a meeting and having time to talk about what you are working on and where you want to go is invaluable. I’m thinking it’s time to reconnect with some of my old group or start a new one. Because it’s always a good time to be making plans.

It’s worth asking if we still want what we thought we did. What’s changed? What isn’t working? What could be better? Where do we want to be this time next year? Five years from now? Ten?

Of course, life will happen. Storms will blow us off course. Sirens will distract us. Strange gods and cannibals will slow us down. It’s wise to enjoy the journey as none of us knows whether we shall ever reach Ithaca.

But if we don’t set out for Ithaca, we won’t meet the sirens, the gods, the cannibals, and we won’t get home.

The ten years will pass anyway.

Where do you want to be?

Write Me a Poem,

Baby.

That is the title of a book by H. Allen Smith, an American author and humorist, who is also the author of a book titled…drumroll…People Named Smith.

I thought he might be an appropriate candidate for my first Smith Sunday blog post. Smith Sunday is a new feature wherein I mention and, perhaps, comment upon some famous person with whom I share a surname.

It may not be a long-lived feature, because, really, what can I accomplish here that a link to Wikipedia cannot do as well? But I’m going to give it a try and see what happens.

My first thought was Captain John Smith. I bet he was yours, too. Captain John Smith is pretty much the first famous person named Smith to leap to anyone’s mind. It’s the clothes. That Elizabethan getup is…memorable. And the Native American princess. Apocryphal though the story may be, Pocahontas makes for a helluva good story, and most of us learned it in grade school.

But I hate to be obvious.

We’ll come back to him, maybe.

H. Allen seems like a good second thought for a first Smith Sunday post precisely because he wrote People Named Smith. I have a feeling I might be consulting it frequently in the coming weeks.

I would suggest you read it, except that I would then have no reason to pursue the Smith Sunday blog posts. Mr. Smith is far more amusing than I…and certainly did more research. His books, by the way, are laugh-out-loud funny, so if you did happen to sneak off and read one or more of them, I could hardly blame you. However, if you can’t resist picking up a copy of People Named Smith, please don’t mention it. And, you know…common politeness should dictate that you not give away any punch lines if you see them heading your way on future Smith Sundays. Just bask in the knowledge that you are well-read and know your Smiths and don’t rain on my parade.

Okay? Thanks!

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Category Archives: All Posts