The Chain Blog Challenge

Today is the first time I’ve seen one. A chain blog challenge where each participant writes in less than 500 words her, or in my case his, inspired response to a photo selected by a previous blogger. I think the idea is that readers will do what I just did, visit each of the blogs from previous challenges, a great idea and rewarding. There are a lot of very good blogs out there we might not otherwise find. Having not written anything worthwhile for some time, I wouldn’t expect a positive reaction to my contribution, but that’s normal. The photo  did not come with a credit to the artist, I hope somewhere along the chain, the skill necessary to make the image will be recognised. My small contribution is short, more a caption to envoke emotion, certainly less than 500 words including this preamble.

"Why is mom crying dad?"  "She’s trying to use my camera son, must see something worth snapping."

Follow the Golden Blog Road.

From Wanderlust, to Random Ramblings, to Menopausal Mumma and more.  Have a good trip.

JAWhite                                           Return To Main Page
March 2010

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The situation developed quicker than even I, the eternal pessimist could have anticipated. It started with an innocuous theft; the small bags of peanuts were there to be consumed weren’t they? Putting a few in my pocket for later wouldn’t hurt anyone, except me as it turned out.

Those bags eventually found their way into an empty jar in the pantry, I certainly wouldn’t steal something and then throw it away, redundant effort that. Pantries are great places for hiding product selection errors, the bag of popcorn left untouched for years after the discovery of microwave popping is only one example, why pan pop when you can nuke a bag and have a disposable container to eat from? I’m not sure when the jar of peanuts was first added to, one day I noticed that it was full, the wife must have bought some more. Occasionally I would grab a small hand full to chomp on while waiting for something more substantial, but watching my expanding waist kept that to a minor occurrence. Really apart from that, the nuts seemed to just be there as though that were their place in life.                      Photo Courtesy: Jeff Doolittle Flickr Photo

I do remember the next nut arrival; I had been shopping with the wife and saw a clearance trolley with packets of “healthy” peanuts nearing expiration date. They were almost giving them away, what could I do but add them to our trolley; you never know when you might have a party. On putting the groceries away I found I had to locate a larger jar, the nut situation was getting out of hand. The last straw arrived only a few days ago, when friends came over, they brought potato chips, drinks and peanuts.

Perhaps peanuts have gone out of fashion; they taste great but do get stuck in between your teeth. The larger jar was full and overflow sat in a Tupperware container next to it. The time had come to do something about this. I had been retired for a couple of years and had started doing most of the cooking; don’t tell the wife I said that. Simple, I would make something from the peanuts, easy as. With the internet available I hadn’t bothered with cookbooks for quite some time. Google peanut recipes, no problem, Six million results, great.

Ever try finding something to eat? Something everyone in the family will like? Something that’s “easy” for you to cook, and clean up after? Not great. George Washington Carver, I remember that name from school, he found a zillion uses for peanuts. No matter how hard I looked, he had nothing for me, peanut soup? Indonesian Satay, I had tried a sample in a supermarket once, it was good, no... Too many ingredients. Peanut butter cookies, yes I like them, but wait, I have peanuts but there’s that jar of peanut butter on the next shelf, doesn’t made sense.

I like to look around when I Google, I check out the result offerings on more than the first page, but how many OOOOO’s do you click before giving up? Deciding that this was a job for Superwoman, I e-mailed my Mom, with copies to my sisters just in case. Mom was twenty when she had me, that makes her an experienced cook, among other things. It happened that Mom was staying with one of my sisters this week, she and sis must have talked and decided that stupid son and brother needed help. The reply was blunt, no hello, how are you? Nothing, just a copy of a home page from a Google result. I had a look, yep, it was the very first result I had seen from the “Peanut Recipe” search I had done, but hadn’t looked at.

Okay, Google knows all, next time I won’t second guess it and look further than it’s highly considered and in order of significance suggestions. The proof is in the pudding, I would take a look at the info my sister had recommended. Sounded great, Cooking With Peanuts, how more applicable could you get. Hold on! The copy of the site page my sister sent didn’t have working links so I read the text first. Now that’s a real first. It begins with promises of relieve for those in my pitiful position,”Peanuts are one of the most versatile foodstuffs on earth.” “If you’re looking for ideas on different ways to use peanuts....” Then the show stopper... “Got a great peanut recipe? Let us know and you can Get Famous Fast!"

If I give them my recipe they will send me 1kg of delicious dry roasted Peanut Van peanuts. Oh my aching head. The clincher follows; STOP PRESS! We’ve been swamped with great recipes! Don’t send anymore for now.

I have only two choices, I can get up the nerve and look at the Peanut Van site for something to use my peanuts for, or, I can take my peanuts for a walk, its garbage night. I think my nuts are caught between a rock and a hard place.

JAWhite                                                     Return To Main Page
October 2009

Some quotes from The Peanut Van web site http://peanutvan.com.au/recipes.htm you don’t think they’ll get upset do you?
No products were injured in the writing of this true story.

Teachers Pet, I wish...

I seldom watch entertainment news programs. You know the ones, ET, The Insider, E! Then of course the general gossip segments on other shows. People like being involved in the lives of the “Rich and Famous”, if only from an observational point of view. Ask a Psychologist why, I’m just here to comment on something I saw on one....

Photo Courtesy: Fernando Audibert, Stock_xchng.com

One of the people around the table on “The Insider“ held up a magazine entitled Artillery, a magazine about art, based in Los.Angeles. The cover story for this issue, about photography, featured young girls whose mothers enter them in those “Little Miss-whatever contests”. Packed with images of girls the “mature” side of three, dressed, made-up, and posed to look, I guess, like their mothers hope they will at 18 years. I was amazed that one of the mothers though it necessary to inform the reporter, thongs were not allowed in the swimsuit section of the contest. Swimsuits, paraded by little girls, what are they thinking? Being a father with no daughters I can say with confidence “no girl of mine will ever go out looking like that” be she 3, 13 or 30. Let me get off the soap box now and tell you why I started writing this. The Insider story reminded me of something that happened many years ago.

I was about 11 maybe 12 when Miss. Shaw became my science teacher. She was in her mid 20’s; to her youthful male students she was a kind of, well, angel. Tall, slim, blond hair, short for those days, she was the inspiration that made puberty worth the effort. When she had her back to the window and the sun streamed in she was wrapped in golden... Young enough for her enthusiasm for teaching to still inspire her students, she would talk about many things during the class. The subject still got taught but we learned other things as well. Some teachers make kids sit in the same seat for every lesson, Miss Shaw didn’t, and I can’t remember anyone ever being late for her class. Those who got to the front seats first could feel the envy drilling through their backs, but they didn’t care. Even the girls liked her; she had a way of making them feel important, part of some special “girl” club. She was a good teacher and she had that "something" the other teaches didn’t.

That day Miss Shaw had brought a photo album to class with her, it wasn’t until later I learned why she had asked only the girls up to her desk to have a look. She did it on purpose, the girls looked at us guys with distain and giggles, they were in the know, and we weren’t. But Miss Shaw did not forget her biggest fans. She shared with the whole class at last, but kept some of the photos at the back of the album closed.

You see, Miss Shaw was a grown up “Little Miss.” having been brought up in the beauty pageant religion. From a young age she had travelled with her mother from city to city following the circuit. The album contained her childhood memories. From toddler to, as it turned out, school teacher age, she had walked the stage. There were photos of her collection of trophies, her ribbons and tiaras. Formal dresses, theme costumes, and of course, the swimsuit competitions. Best of all were the photos from last weekend’s contest, Miss Shaw was still active. Being in Northern Alabama, Miss Shaw had chosen a cotton boll as her theme costume. The large round papier-mâché ball with green leaves around the neck, and fluffy white cotton balls glued on was fine, but looked a little awkward; the best part was her long legs extending from the bottom of the papier-mâché.

I guess the contest circuit hadn’t done too much damage to Miss Shaw over the years. She seemed to enjoy participating and said she would continue for a while longer, of course in the “Big Miss.” section. She turned out to be engaged to some lucky guy, sad isn’t it? Could her pastime be considered the same as a kid spending his/her weekends playing a sport? Don’t know, I suppose it’s all about participating in life, at least the mothers got involved, hopefully not for their personal satisfaction. Miss Shaw gained pride and self respect plus all those memories. I’m still not sure I approve of the whole pageant thing, but then they don’t need or want my approval.                                                

                                                                                                                                             Photo Courtesy: John Burke, Flickr.com

The photos at the back of the album? One of the girls later told me, they were some of Miss Shaws more revealing costumes. The images that thought created only made her seem more intriguing, until.

It seemed longer, but class was only a few minutes old when Miss Shaw was interrupted, the caretaker brought in a heavy 44 gallon drum on a trolley. With enthusiasm she announced that today we would have the pleasure of dissecting frogs. As she opened the drum and the incredible smell permeated the room, we quickly forgot beauty contests and went for the scalpels. After all we were there to learn. For some reason Miss Shaw lost a little of her charm that day, with a smile she reached into the formaldehyde and pulled out a very substantial Rana Catesbiana, after all, she was there to teach.

JAWhite

Sept. 2009                                                             Returm to Main Page

A Blog, Within a Blog, Within a Blog...

“While searching for an image, to enhance a story on the verge of completion, I came across a piece of writing which struck me as poignant, well written and intensely intriguing. Three things people like me, readers, can’t resist. The one short paragraph drew me into a train of thought which I had not been in a mood to pursue, but nevertheless felt compelled to. Reading that short post took less than a minute, but the complex emotion it imparted, left me open mouthed in amazement for several hours afterward. I knew immediately why this particular vignette had such an impact on me; it could have been written, if not by me, then at least about, one possible outcome should my present circumstance continue.”

The paragraph above is a quote from a novel I may one day write, the paragraph may be fiction but some of its content and the rest of this is fact. Not finding the image I was after, I started reading. Becoming engrossed in investigating the writing I had found, I followed the writer through several years of her life until losing the trail. It developed into something larger than one person’s personal diary; in fact I have notes which may one day lead me into that novel I once had ambitions of writing.

I want to share this literary find with you not because of its initial impact on me, or because of the way the story ends, since the ending is something I may write one day. I want to share the writing, which is a little story itself.

It begins as a blog, that’s all, just a few paragraphs every day or so on the web host, Blogspot. Considering myself something of a detective, I worked both forward and back from the post I had found. Having suspicions as to its “reality” I checked everything I could. All I saw gave me the impression that this was a real person writing about real life. The writer had friends, a child, and family. The emotions expressed by the writer flow up and down the proverbial roller coaster. The references to friends by name or pseudonym, the links provided and the dates from them tied into the blog post dates. This was someone just like you or I, writing just as I am now. The post I had found was written in early 2002.

Blogspot was only a couple of years old way back then, the logo looks decidedly 1960’s, where that came from we’ll probably never know. You do realise that everything you write to the internet is forever, don’t you? Anyway, the post on that blog from early 2002 is out there, it just happened that I came across it.

Writing a personal diary over a period of time gives readers not just your story, but a glimpse into your thinking. If the time frame is long enough, the way you think also changes, and becomes evident to readers. Many biographies are written from diaries. If the writer is not well known, only the words that are written can be taken as facts, no other information comes to hand to remedy incorrect interpretations. I won’t place the conclusions I came to about the blog post here, they’re based on additional words I’ve read by the author. Let’s just accept the impression the writer leaves with us from this “snapshot” of her life. I have made many attempts to contact the writer to discuss/comment her writing.  The URL, links, people and e-mail addresses I found, are no longer available or have changed completely. I won't give you the URL or pseudonym used, and without being able to credit the author for her work I can only say, anonymous, perhaps that’s the by-line many of us will one day have.

The screen shot with identifying items blacked out.  Perhaps I should have called this story, “I won’t be posting here anymore.”

JAWhite                                             Return To Main Page
November 2015