THE DOGS DAYS OF SUMMER...What the Heck Does that Mean?

         “I’m melting….” That’s my internal thought every time I step out into the unbearably hot and horribly humid sticky-icky summer days.  But at least I can sweat, or “glow” as they say here in the south, to cool off. 

Dogs don’t sweat. Their only cooling mechanism is to pant, drawing air across those long fat tongues. Only it’s hot humid air flowing across their tongues so it doesn’t seem as if it would be all that effective. Which explains why they often resort to Plan B: digging holes in the dirt deep under the front porch where it is maybe three degrees cooler. It doesn’t seem as if they have a Plan C.

Melting dogs under porches is why these summer days are known as “The Dog Days of Summer.”

THE OH-SO-SUBTLE SOUTHERNIZATION OF A YANKEE…

Those sneaky southerners! They draw you into their gracious mannerly ways and hypnotize you with that charming long-voweled speech. Before you even realize it, you've been Southernized. I’m a born and raised Buckeye, a Yankee through and through. But most of my thirty years as a Navy spouse have been spent in the south. Virginia, South Carolina and Tennessee, to be specific. When I ran across a porch plaque defining The South, I realized I just might be one of them now. 

 

The South

\t͟hə ‘sau’th\, noun

A Place Where…

 

Tea is sweet and accents are sweeter. I’ve been known to slip a “fixin’ to” in as often as possible—and it must be said with a twang in order to truly be southern.

SWEET KINDNESS

On the occasion of a recent celebration on my behalf, a dear friend contacted a woman who not only makes the best sugar cookies, she also specializes in custom decorations. My friend ordered two dozen cookies, telling the baker that I am a writer and suggesting she decorate them with writerly things like quills or a typewriter or other icons that represent my love for creating stories. The baker asked my name and my friend shared Jayne Ormerod. Isn’t that a thoughtful surprise?

When my friend picked up the cookies, the baker was so excited to share her beautiful creations reflecting images of my book covers. The sweet woman had gone above and beyond to look up my writerly profile and decorate the cookies accordingly. Isn’t that a delightful gesture?

THE WRITERLY LIFE--Pen Musings

Ballpoint pens. One of those things you probably use every day but don’t give much thought to. As a writer, I am (seemingly by definition) a ballpoint pen collector. At any given moment in time, I probably have more than one hundred in my inventory. (It’s not “hoarding” if you actually use them, correct? Just checking.)

Pens are everywhere! Tucked in spines of notebooks and journals; stuffed into coffee cups throughout the house; MIA somewhere in my car (I usually harvest at least twenty from underneath the driver’s seat every time I go fishing for a dropped French fry); and often i have at least one jammed into a sweatshirt pocket—which I will hopefully remember to remove before sending the shirt through the laundry.  

LIFE LESSONS FROM THE GARDEN, Part One

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: You’re never too old to learn something new. <<click here to read a previous blog post with a similar theme.>> 

And here we go again.

Even though I am rapidly approaching that magic number (no, not the legal drinking age, but the one for retirement), I'm still learning stuff. Every single day. I recently learned that playful pups and edible gardens do not have to be mutually exclusive. This is such a eureka moment for me, as it is contrary to a lesson I learned in my youth and have never forgotten. Dogs relieve themselves wherever they want, even if it’s in a pumpkin patch. Call me a germaphobe, but I just don’t like the idea of dog poo leeching in my Thanksgiving pie.

FAIR WINDS AND FOLLOWING SEAS...What the Heck Does That even Mean?

<Flashback Friday…someone used a phrase the other day that I’d heard very often throughout my thirty years as a military spouse, but rarely hear in the civilian world. And when I heard it, I tried to remember what it meant. No luck. (This getting older thing is no joke!) Thank goodness I wrote this blog a decade ago that I could quickly refresh my memory. And I thought maybe some of my blog visitors would be interested to have their memories refreshed, or maybe learn something new. So here is a repeat post from April 2, 2012.>>

 At a recent Hail and Farewell (a party wherein new reports to the command are welcomed and those departing are bid a fond adieu), the Lieutenant heading off to Norfolk was offered the traditional wishes of “Fair winds and following seas.”  Since I’ve been around the Navy world for almost 30 years, I’ve heard this phrase uttered hundreds, if not thousands, of times.  But (and this may be a sign of maturity on my part) this time it got me to wondering what exactly it meant.  So I let my fingers do the surfing through the cyber world, and I thought I’d save y’all from duplicating my efforts and today seems a good opportunity to share my newly acquired knowledge.

THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

 

     The first thing any good detective does when entering a crime scene is to look for clues. Not just a quick once over, but an inch-by-inch detailed inspection for a stray hair, an unexplained fingerprint, or anything out of the ordinary. Every detail is documented, for it may become important later in the investigation.