RIP Frankie Manning

May 26, 1914 - April 27, 2009

Sigh.

I have nothing to say about this sweet, funny, inspiring, vivacious, flirtatious icon of an era that hasn't been said more eloquently elsewhere.

Except that he gave my bottom a quick pat once during a dance.

He was about 85 at the time.

Bless his heart, his friends and loved ones, and his lasting memory.

Lindy Hop Great Frankie Manning Dies at 94

http://www.frankiemanning.com/

Camping Ranting

So, Labor Day weekend my husband and I went tent camping in the Sierras. We had planned to stay for three nights. We left after only one. Why? in my mind it was because far too many campers simply do not possess common camping sense or practice common camping courtesy.  In fact, I have a strong suspicion that some of these so-called "campers" view camping merely as a cheap alternative to the hotel room they truly desire.

Thus I was inspired to create a common-sense etiquette guide for camping, but instead, I offer you two open letters to the fellow campers that made our camping experience less than ideal.

Boys and Thier Toys

Dear fellow campers -

We couldn’t help but remark upon the hulking behemoth of a portable apartment building parked on your modestly-sized campsite. How clever that it actually has a four-motorcycle garage at the back, and how convenient. You and your three “best-buds” were able to each bring a bike for your long, stud weekend in the Sierras. Where does one go to ride those dirt-bikes in the Sierras, I wonder? And at 6:30AM, too! How very industrious.

I just wonder if you are quite certain this is where you intended to “camp”. You will no doubt have noticed that the campsites here are not exceedingly large. In fact, now that you have placed the apartment building (with attached garage), the two-man tent and the four motorcycles on your campsite, there is no alternative but for your king-sized pickup truck (Goodness! What large tires!), to poke conspicuously out into the drive that enters the campground. Also, you are aware that this campground has no running water, are you not? And no hookups? Silly me! Of course you are aware there are no hookups! Otherwise, you would not have brought the generator with which you so graciously lulled us to sleep last night. Why, I do believe I heard the crickets and the frogs in the surrounding woods give up altogether when faced with your generator’s mighty thrum.

It might interest you to know that there is a campground a few clicks down the road specifically designed for RV and trailer camping. There are LARGE spaces, hookups and even a shower facility provided. I know you would appreciate the showers since you and your friends must have spent a great deal of money on your body art. It seems a shame all those tattoos should be hidden under a layer of campsite grime.

Regards,

Site #1

A Family Affair

Dear fellow campers –

Family is so important. It is wonderful that your extended family enjoys vacationing together. Two, or is it three families on one campsite! That’s impressive. The smallest one in the campground, too. How ironic that the smallest site will host the largest group. One. . . two. . three. . . EIGHT of which are children! They have the adults outnumbered two to one.  Let's hope the dears don't decide to mutiny.

I just wanted to thank your family for helping us decide whether to stay through the weekend, or to go home. Watching all of you tumble energetically out of two cars like a Ringling Brothers circus act this morning, left us still on the fence. However, when the first bit of “camping gear” to come out of those cars proved to be a portable stereo the size of Rhode Island, we had reached a decision.

Our campsite reservation is prepaid and nonrefundable. Please avail yourselves. It is right next to yours and I think it will handle two or three of your smaller tents quite comfortably.

Best,

Site # 1

Flashy Snacking

So yesterday I paid a visit to my favorite little sandwich shop. I always order the same thing: Tuna salad on sourdough with everything, add sprouts too, please. Tasty and filling, and only about $3.50. Sometimes, I will also pick up a little something for afternoon snacking. They have whole oranges, apples and bananas, hard-boiled eggs and the like. Usually, I go for the small, colorful bowl of raw veggies.

Yesterday, they were particularly colorful.


What is wrong with this picture, you ask? Simple. The orange stuff? It ain't cheese. It's cauliflower! Pretty, isn't it?

Now, this is my very first exposure to orange cauliflower, so naturally I had to rush to the nearest computer and do some internet research. According to this four-year-old USA Today article, orange cauliflower has been commercially available since 2004, but it was actually first discovered as a natural mutation as far back as 1970. A man named Michael Dickson is credited with heading up developing a new hybrid. Here's a quote from the article:

Dickson started developing the vegetable in 1981 after researchers from the National Vegetable Research Center in England who were familiar with his work forwarded him some seeds from the mutant plant, first found in the Bradford Marsh north of Toronto in 1970.

Research is also showing that the orange cauliflower varietal may actually be more healthful, allowing the plant to store higher levels of beta-carotene. Further research could lead to a wide range of crops genetically-modified to provide more complete nutrition, potentially good news for developing nations.

Regardless of where you stand on the issue of genetic modification of food, the new cauliflower sure is purty.

Horrible, Horrible, Horrible

Authors note to D. and to PW: I strongly advise against reading today's post. It's a downer anyway. -- Cocktail Maven


Something awful happened today.

172 people boarded a plane in Spain bound for the Canary Islands. Moments after takeoff, only 19 were left alive. There is no end of bad news in the world. You don't even have to look for it for it to plop in your lap on a daily basis. Wars. Atrocities. Extinction. Ignorance. Much of it washes over me. You learn to filter these things out just to survive, but for some reason, my mind keeps wandering back to this tragedy.

I know the families of the dead will suffer the loss of loved ones for a long time, for the rest of their lives, probably. I know the suddenness of their loss must only increase their anguish. I know this, I know what it is to lose someone. I know, and in no way do I intend to diminish their pain when I say that it is the plight of the surviving 19 that touches me most. It is the surviving that horrifies me.

We have all heard that statistically, we are much, much safer and less likely to come to harm travelling by plane than when travelling by car. However, despite the instructions provided by the air host/hostess, and in spite of flotation devices and oxygen masks, deep down we all know that were something to go awry, likelihood of survival is - let's face it - negligible.

But what if you did survive a plane crash? What if YOU, out of 172 people, were one of the blessed few who walked away? What do you do with that? How do you reconcile the memory of the man across the aisle who hoisted your bag for you with the memory of watching him die mere moments later, completely powerless to help? How do you compartmentalize something like that and move on with your life? How do you even decide what to do with the rest of it?

I hope I never have to find out.

Mini-Vacation

Weekends.

I believe, that as much as circumstances allow, each and every weekend should be embraced as the mini-vacation it is. My husband, on the other hand is rather more industrious than I think one ought to be between 5pm Friday and 10pm on Sunday. I understand that there are always things that need doing for which our workaday lives often do not leave room. Typically such tasks involve pruning shears, paintbrushes, and. . . uh-oh! I do believe I just heard a saw outside.

I am afraid to check. I don't want to get involved.

After all, it's Saturday, it's very hot, and I'm on a mini-vacation.

At least for as long as I can get away with it.

If you need me, I'll be on the sofa with a pillow behind my back, an iced coffee and a good book. I say that, of course, hoping you won't need me.