Showing posts from 2021

Passing the Torch: My Daughter is now The Mom Who Tells Stories, vs. Nobody Reads Dune.

Alia's friends have always asked her:  How's your mom? Does she have any stories? I told her to refer them to this blog. It's not as fun as in person, but it uses all the same words.  Last night Alia did me to me:  AJ: Mom, did I tell you about Mackinac Island?  me: No... AJ: Okay, so when Polly and I were on Mackinac Island, we were just trying to get out of the sun and the heat... (me, internally: I did not know about this trip. I've never been to Mackinac Island.) AJ: ...and found a "strip mall" which was really more like a hallway with doors into 4 stores, and one of them was a book store. and we went in, and nobody was there because nobody goes to Mackinac Island to buy books... me: I would.  AJ: ::leans into the camera with a mom-face:: ANYWAY, there was nobody in there buying books on Mackinac Island. And there at the front was a display of the book Dune. So I yell, "Hey Polly, look! Here's the book where my mom got my name." And the tall,

Quick Update: Impossible Burger Again

Since my first encounter, I've found myself thinking about Impossible Burger, which means I needed to try it again. I bought the chunk form, with the intention of making Shepherd's Pie. Usually when I buy a pound of beef, I fry it up and eat it just like that, sometimes with cheese & pickles, sometimes in a taco. Impossible burger is crumbling up correctly. My taste buds and my body inform me: This is not beef.  But they aren't complaining. It's not like the protest I feel when someone serves Imitation Crab Meat (which is fine if you want to tell me it's Scrod, because that's a decent fish.)  Shepherd's Pie may or may not happen; in the meantime, tacos are never wrong. These tacos gringos are great! Don't fear the Impossible Burger. Try it for yourself. Further Reading: Impossible Burger   Find out what's in it and how it's made. Dr. Richard A. Williams, Food Renegade   Richard is retired from the FDA but he continues to fight for us and for

Their Last Recovery - A Fable

Marine anthropologist Dr. David Posey hefted himself from Mediterranean waters onto the deck of the Labyrinth  while his wife Patsy maneuvered the salvage net. “What on earth? So heavy…not just another urn…” Patsy mused. David was bursting with excitement as he untangled his find from the netting. “I think it’s gonna be a doozy, Pats,” he said. “Those aren't broken handles – more like horns. It doesn’t feel like marble, quite. We might just finally get out of the recovery business!” He scraped away a few barnacles and found an eye underneath. It blinked.  The Poseys took the minotaur home and set it up in their spare bedroom. They sold the Labyrinth and retired to take care of their last recovery. Fans of the classics, they called him Minos. When Minos was small, they visited the library and museums as a family, but the zoo seemed inappropriate. As he grew, he drew more attention; soon they avoided going into buildings and spent time on walks among the Botanic Garden's hedges.