I Write Like

Mario Puzo, apparently.

The site analyzes your writing based on word choice and style.

It's fun. As for accurate, I really don't know. Puzo wrote The Godfather, which I've neither seen nor read.

Maybe tomorrow's 55 will be mob-themed.

I write like
Mario Puzo

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Perspective

I met a woman at the bank today. Her left leg was missing from the knee down, her left hand was immobile, and her head was permanently tilted at an angle that seemed like a recipe for constant neck pain. She was interested in everyone around her, learning their names and comparing accents.

Before she left, she told me a bit of her story. She was nearly 50 and had an automobile accident when she was 17 and she had some advice for me. I didn't hear a bit of self-pity in her words, just a desire that I would benefit from her experience.

She said, "You can clap with both hands, drive a car, and hug someone's neck with both arms. Don't take a bit of that for granted."

Commonly Confused Words--Persecute versus Prosecute

There are a number of problems with this sign, but we're just going to focus on the part that says that anyone caught throwing trash in or digging inside"will be persecuted."

I see this one often. Persecution and prosecution are very different things.

To persecute: 1. to pursue with harassing or oppressive treatment, esp. because of religion, race, or beliefs; harass persistently.

The Bible offers examples of proper usage of this word. For example, Matthew 5:44 says, "But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you."

To prosecute: 1.. to institute legal proceedings against (a person).

Prosecute would have been the appropriate word for the sign, since the writer intended to say that violators would be subject to appropriate legal proceedings rather than subject to "harassing or oppressive treatment" due to their "religion, race, or beliefs."

Just another grammar lesson on commonly confused words.

Both definitions from Dictionary.com.

Life's Cycle (according to a three-year-old)

A direct quote: "First you're a baby, then you're a kid, then you're a grown-up, and then you're fat."

Robin Hood

Despite the title of yesterday's post, I have to admit that, in an odd way, the stranger next to me enhanced my experience rather than detracting from it.

Maybe that's because the movie was exactly what you'd expect from a flick called Robin Hood with Russell Crowe as the lead. It was packed with fight scenes and overt manliness, then softened by a pretty lady, who happened to be quite the fighter herself. In short, it was very Russell Crowe-y.

So I didn't really feel like I was missing anything groundbreaking even when my neighbor leaned over and said, "See what's happening now is..."

So, thank you, fake Englishman, for a truly interesting cinematic experience.

Cinematic Torture

I saw Robin Hood tonight and sat next to a guy who was alone. As soon as I sat, he offered me popcorn, but it didn't stop there. He also explained key plot points and read everything that came on screen (city names, intro paragraphs, etc.) aloud.

He also hummed along to the soundtrack and told jokes. For example, when the city name Hampton came on screen, he said, "The only Hampton I know is the Hampton Inn."

And he did it all in a fake British accent.

A bad one.

Flash Fiction Friday--Snow Cone Stand

I'm back with a Flash Friday 55:

Ginny dropped two quarters into her apron pocket and said, “Hey girl!” as Julie approached.

Julie’s pigtails and shoelaces flapped with each step, “Hey! One rainbow snow cone with extra syrup.”

“Seventy-five cents, please.”

“Even for me?” Julie asked.

Ginny tapped the sign—extra syrup, 25 cents— and said, “I’ve got a business to run.”

Flash Fiction Friday 55: Summer Camp

I missed last week. And I was on such a roll, too. But I'm back with a summer-themed ditty this week. Here goes:

Some things were given—songs around the campfire, sand in her shoes, and carpet ball. But would she make a lanyard keychain or a sand-filled bottle? Swim or hike? Eat grilled cheese or pizza? Would her cabin earn teepee privileges? Julie fastened her Velcro sneakers tight, linked arms with her new BFF and skipped outside.

Flash Fiction Friday 55: A Day in the Life of a Sportscaster

Another Friday, another Flash 55. Thanks for giving me something to blog on consistently, G-man! I love it. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words (thank goodness for long titles!). Head over to Mr.Knowitall's place to join in. Here's this week's:

Drew chuckled at the newest addition to his wall of fame. Along with the usual profanities, the email read, "Even my dog hates your voice!"

"What'd you do this time?" Drew's producer asked.

"Predicted Kansas would lose before March madness hit full swing."

Drew posted the email and stepped back. He'd soon need another wall.

Together Again

Hey Biggest Loser,

I know we had some rough times, but I'm glad we're giving it another try.

Yours (for now).

Friday Flash 55: Coin Collectors

Another Friday, another Flash 55. Thanks for the concept, G-man, this has become my favorite blogging activity of the week. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Head over to Mr.Knowitall's place to join in. Here's this week's:

Jason's well-trained eyes caught a glint in the road.

He pointed, but didn't have to say anything. Danny knew the drill--make a dash for it and get back before the light turns green. He slid into the backseat and handed his father the prize.

"Nice work, son--a penny saved is a penny earned."

Friday Flash Fiction 55: How I Met Your Father

Another Friday, another Flash 55. Thanks for the concept, G-man, this has become my favorite blogging activity of the week. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Head over to Mr.Knowitall's place to join in. This one is adapted from the beginning of a longer piece I wrote long ago. Here it is:

He put his hand first on his own knee, then moved it over a few inches to mine. He didn't kiss me, which filled me with such tenderness that I gripped his hand until he told me to ease up--he wasn't going anywhere. And it was true.

He was filled with the same tenderness.

Friday Flash 55: Cybil's America

Another Friday, another Flash 55. Thanks for the concept, G-man, this has become my favorite blogging activity of the week. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Head over to G-man's place to join in. Here's this week's:

"So, Grandma, how do you feel about having an African American president?" said Jen.

"Oh honey, it's never gonna happen," Cybil replied, "people are just too prejudiced."

Jen leaned forward, searching Cybil's face for a hint of humor. When she found none, she said, "Grandma, it has happened. The president is black."

"President of what?"

Friday Flash 55: What He Sees

Another Friday, another Flash 55. Thanks for the concept, G-man! I'm loving it. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Here's this week's:

Valentine's Day was barely a blip on his radar screen. He was more likely to compare her with Lucille Ball than with Audrey Hepburn. He never talked of the shape of her body or the hue of her skin.

He spoke of her spirit, her joy for life, and her klutziness. And she felt beautiful.

Signs of Spring

Signs of spring are here. Green returning to grass:

Leaves returning to trees:

turtles returning to logs (can you see him?).

Maybe Phil the groundhog got it wrong this year.

Friday Flash 55: Snow Rumor in the South

It's time for another Friday Flash 55 (a story in exactly 55 words), which I'm growing to love. Thank you, Mr. Knowitall! Here's today's:

Antone flung his apron onto the counter, "That's it!"

Lance retrieved it and held it out to him as Antone fumbled for his keys, "It's gonna be fine, man. Your apartment is a block away and it hasn't even started falling yet."

"Pfft," said Antone, "I'm outta here."

His customers sat, waiting for their salads.

Cranberry Chicken, a how to (and a how not to)

While I am mostly writing to share a tried and true recipe (it's easy, has only a few ingredients, and is a real crowd pleaser), I also had to share a few photos and an example of what not to do.

First, how to make Cranberry Chicken:

Ingredients:
4 Chicken breasts (cubed)
1 can of whole berry cranberry sauce
1/2 bag onion soup mix
1/2 bottle creamy French dressing

Place ingredients in a crock pot or casserole dish and mix well. Cook in crock pot for 5+ hours or until chicken is cooked. If you prefer baking, cook at 350 for 45 minutes to 1 hour (or until chicken is fully cooked).

It'll look something like this (photo doesn't look the best, but I promise I have yet to hear a bad review).


















I like to serve it with rice and steamed broccoli and cauliflower on the side. Here's a random photo of a broccoli forest (any excuse to use the camera phone, I guess).


















How not to make cranberry chicken:
Follow the instructions above, except use chicken that's not fully thawed. Grody things happen--the sauce doesn't quite synthesize and forms in grainy lumps instead. It's hard to see but the slightly darker spots in the sauce are oily sections. See what I mean? Grody.

Friday Flash 55: Unspoken

I enjoyed doing this exercise (of MrKnowitall's) last week so I figured I'd carry on with Friday Flash Fiction. The idea is to write a story in exactly 55 words.

I do feel the need to clarify that neither story is autobiographical. :) Maybe next week I'll go the comedy route. Here's this week's:

She studied the shelves while Mom pumped gas and Dad jangled his keys at the register. Then she raced over with her selection--a mini can of barbecue Pringles.

"Of course you'd have to go for the most expensive snack in the store!" he said.

Her reply remained unspoken: "I got them for you, Daddy."

For the love of a blank page

I have a stack of journals. Stacks of journals actually. The kind I buy for myself (despite the Onion's brilliant parody) are soft cover moleskins. They're thin, lined and you can wrap the cover all the way around to the back. And I love the snap of that trademark elastic band. I also get a variety of notebooks as gifts from dear friends who choose the blank page as a sweet and simple gesture of support. The most recent of such sits in my lap now, since I received it while writing this post. It's true. Though the giver was hoping for a sneaky and anonymous presentation and just the right pen to accompany it, she heard the subject of today's post and couldn't resist forking it over. The words "write with your heart" are inscribed on the front. On the inside are 100 more blank pages to fill. Yes.

Speaking of blank pages, check out this trailer for a movie of creative types who lost their jobs and started their lives. The tag line is, "It's not a pink slip, it's a blank page." Love that concept.

I sometimes fill those blank pages with clean rows of neat writing and take the time to relish the feel of the pen on the page. But when I get carried away with a passion of some sort, I fill them with large, hurried letters--sorta like when I listen to "Bad" while driving and find myself driving way over the speed limit. Still other pages have scribbles and delete marks and sketches in the margins. The only common thread among the sketches is that they look like they were done by a child. Here's one. I don't know what he is, but I named him Oliver.

Oliver exists because two pages stuck together and I discovered them later. I had to fill them with something, so I started with that squiggly line down the center (maybe water or hills or earth), not knowing where I'd go with it. So that's why it goes through Oliver in the middle, instead of stopping where he picks up. I don't think he minds.

The work journals are another story entirely. My current one is pretty on the outside, but ugly on the inside. There is nothing neat or orderly about the way I write it in. I even fill it up from front to back as well as back to front (by turning it upside down).

Despite the myriad of ways to fill the pages, I always get a thrill from a blank one. Don't you?

What will I fill today's pages with? Hopes, dreams, and possibilities? Yes. Observations, story ideas, and quotes from friends? Probably. To do lists and notes for current projects? Maybe. Grocery lists and lists of impossibles? Pfft--not a chance.

How about you?

A song about the possibility that comes with the blank page.

For the love of a pen

There is something seriously satisfying about writing with the perfect pen. If Goldilocks sat down at the bears' desks in search of something to write home with, it might have been a ball point that was neither too thick, nor too thin; not too inky, but not too dry; and with a point that was neither too fine nor too broad. A pen that was just right. For me, that sort of pen has black ink and a fine point (.05, to be exact); it writes smoothly; and it doesn't bleed, smear, spot, or smudge. And it's a delight that makes me relish the feel of the pen on the page. So delightful is it, in fact, that I'll make excuses to write and scribble and draw.

And I'm not alone. True pen lovers have stores, online forums, and even conventions dedicated to the quest for the perfect pen. Would you count yourself among such enthusiasts? Or maybe you're just somebody who would dig through the drawer an extra moment in search of that pen that's just right for journaling; penning fiction; doodling; creating; writing letters (gasp!); or simply signing checks. As for a journal that's just right...well that's a topic for another day.

In the meantime, I need to go to the store. I have a hankering for pens.

An interactive post

Here's a little experiment. Answer the following questions in the comment box (in complete sentences, please). After I get responses from at least ten of you, I'll post my own. Hmm... I wonder if I'll get to share. I'll include some possibilities in parenthesis for inspiration, but come up with your own. It'll be more fun that way.


1. If I were a country, my chief export would be _______. (peanuts, smiles, compassion, chocolate, hot air)

2. If I were a pretzel, I would _______________. (dip myself in chocolate; eat myself; find a bag of Chex mix to jump in)

3. If I were going to be reincarnated as an animal/insect, I would be a ______________ because/so ________________________. (a snipe so that I could meet Russell and Karl; a fly so I could finally see what all the hype about the wall is)

4. If I could have 90 days off work with pay, I would _____________. (backpack around the world, volunteer in a third world country, visit my grandpa)

5. If I had to be on a reality TV show, I would be on _______________. (American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Biggest Loser)

6. I will be able to cross the following item off my bucket list this year: ____________________. (make a bucket list; lead a revolution so I have an excuse to wear one of those cool berets; learn another language; go to Italy)

7. In 2010, I will _____________. (appreciate my spouse; celebrate my friends and family on days besides their birthdays; come up with a new year's resolution at the beginning of the year instead of in February; blog more often)

8. This year, I will _______ more and ______ less. (smile more, worry less; walk more, drive less; love more, judge less)

9. I celebrated the Y2K (year 2000) by __________. (going to Times Square, watching Dick Clark at Thomas Clark's house (oops, gave mine away), hiding in a homemade bomb shelter with a hoard of water purification tablets)

10. Write your own!

"It's nothing you could fake"

Ever heard of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? They're actors. They act, which means they pretend for a living. According to this article, the two were acting very much like a couple at a recent event even though there have been some tabloid breakup rumors swirling. According to one witness, "It's nothing you could fake."

Really? These award winning actors couldn't fake something? Now, I'm not saying they are faking and I don't really care either way. I'm just saying that they most certainly could. That's what they've both made boatloads of money and amassed mountains of awards for. They're actors. Fakers.

I'm just sayin'.

Friday Flash 55: Un-received

I've been reading Susan's Friday Flash 55s for a while now and figured I'd give it a shot. The idea (which comes from MrKnowitall) is to write a story in exactly 55 words. It certainly is a good exercise in brevity. Here's mine:

Grandpa Chaney wore overcoats with flannel pajamas and said dévà ju instead of déjà vu.

He watched her. She felt him watching.

She huffily dropped silverware into the drawer before turning towards him, "What, Dad?"

He held out a clump of tulips, her favorite, which she then tossed onto the counter.

She hated plastic flowers.

Confession

I was on a little road trip with a snack box containing assorted goodies: chex mix, granola bars, cookies, red velvet Twinkies, gum...you get the idea.

I ate some chex mix (avoiding the pretzels, of course) and then used my phone's light (it was dark, see) to illuminate another bag. The way it was folded over, I could only see the words Hot Buffalo Wing Pieces. "Yum," I thought. So I put my phone away, put the bag in my lap, and proceeded to eat handful upon handful of this spicy and savory magic. I made a mental note to purchase some of my own and then a horrifying thought came to my mind: Hot Buffalo Wing Pieces OF WHAT?

So I spread the bag out and in the glow of my phone, I scanned the large letters that spelled Snyder's Hot Buffalo Wing Pieces. Then the eerie glow lit up five words in small, deceitful letters at the bottom of the bag: artificially flavored sourdough hard pretzel.

I ate the rest of the bag.

I'll wait for you

Dear Office,

Biggest Loser and I have agreed to see other shows and I just wanted to let you know that I kinda like you. I'm not sure how much depth you have, but you sure do make me laugh. I'm talking, from-the-gut, can-hardly-breathe kind of laughter.

I understand your dad is from England and that he shares your wit. I like traveling and drinking English breakfast tea, so we already have lots in common. You're also endearing even in your obnoxiousness (I hope this isn't news to you) and I admire your willingness to look like a fool in the name of a good laugh.

You have other good qualities too and I'd like to get to know you more.

Unfortunately, according to Hulu.com at my last visit, you aren't available for another 90 years.
Can you somehow bump that up a few decades?

It's not me, it's you

Dear "Biggest Loser, "

When I first met you in fall, 2009, it was love at first sight. I looked forward to our time together on Tuesday evenings and I enjoyed laughing with you, crying with you, and being challenged by you. I felt drawn to you by your efforts to make the world a better place and was touched by your contestants. Like Daniel and his empathy for Shay; Coach Mo and his sweet smile and unassuming demeanor; and Abby, my favorite from the start, with her genuine heart and amazing attitude. And when that dear sweet soul talked about her devastating loss and the way it sucked the life out of her, I cried. But it just made it that much more rewarding when she spoke about regaining that spark and that joy of life.

We went through hard times too, but we came out better. Like when one of your contestants tried to make excuses and Jillian said, "I'm not going to co-sign on your bulls%*t." I cheered and clapped at your honesty and your courage to push her to that breakthrough she so desperately needed.

So I looked forward to our reunion in 2010. But I'm afraid, Biggie, that you've changed. Suddenly, it seems you're all drama and no heart. So far, you have only a few contestants I really want to get behind (shout out to the tenacious Stephanie and the endearing cousins with giant hearts). I'm sorry to say that I spend a lot more time rolling my eyes and a lot less time feeling your story. I'm just not sure we have that much in common anymore.

If things don't change between us, I'm moving on to bigger and better things. I only have so much room on the DVR and I'm not going to waste it on unnecessary drama and bad attitudes.

I do care about you, my dear show, and I hope we can work things out.

Hope for Haiti and Planting for Peace

Unless you're specifically trying not to see and hear the stories, you've probably heard of brokenhearted family members still searching through rubble in Haiti and seen images of the many amputees, motherless children, and exhausted rescuers. You've probably read of volunteers, like Gary Garner, who said upon his departure, that he would "go home and cry."

The images don't seem to fit in a place reachable from Florida by two hours on a plane. Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere and life there was already tragic before this earthquake. One young man, who was nominated for the CNN Hero award in 2007, has been invested deeply in Haiti for years. He operates his organization, Planting for Peace, while paying little attention to his own needs. It's been widely reported that he lives in squalor, while giving all he can to his various efforts--providing medication to de-worm Haitians and operating orphanages among them. If CNN can get behind him, I can, too. The donation page is here. You can send money or goods.

Another way (and there are plenty more) to contribute is to buy the album from Friday's Hope for Haiti Now. It's available on iTunes and all profits are donated to Clinton Bush Haiti Fund, Oxfam America, Partners in Health, Red Cross, UNICEF, and the United Nations World Food Programme.

Soy vida

After meeting the seven-foot polar bear and the tour guides who "know everything," I wasn't quite sure what to expect from the Coca Cola museum.

And then I watched Fizzy Bot (the packaging robot) fill bottles and I moved on to a hall commemorating milestones from the invention of the beverage to the penning of the logo.

But what really got me feeling excited (and thirsty), were international commercials and ads from years past. My favorite promoted unity and diversity. In it, people from all around the world pull their tables and tablecloths into the street and set them up side by side in one big neighborhood picnic. They share their foods with each other, and of course, they each have a coke in hand.

In another, from the 70s, people in the garb of the day gather from different countries and cultures to sing on a hillside,
"I'd like to buy the world a coke and teach them all to sing..."

One was just plain entertaining--a kid on a park bench imitates a cell phone ring and pretends to look for his phone. Finally, he pulls a bottle of coke from his pocket, opens it, and holds it out to a girl sharing the bench, "It's for you."

After watching who knows how many coke bottles being opened on screen, they finally send you into a tasting room where you can drink all the coke products you could possible want. They have the American classics as well as products from around the world. Sweet, fruity (grape, kiwi, strawberry, orange, etc.), sour (like Lemon Wacky Hello), minty, and more. Some tasted familiar, and some were just yucky.

Luckily, I'd been warned to drink only small portions so I didn't leave feeling sick, but I still drank enough to have a sugar high.

And, brilliant marketers that they are, the good people of Coke get you all hopped up on sugar and then send you into the Coke store, where you have opportunity to spend whatever money you have left on Coke products, complete with Coke labels. I don't often like paying full price, especially for the privilege of advertising a product, but there was one shirt that left me happy to do both. It has the following words printed across the front: snowflakes, long walks, new crayons, blowing bubbles, music, fresh sheets, watermelon, parades, rock and roll, tulips, yellow galoshes, green grass, tire swings, ice cream sandwiches, plane rides, bowling, freckles, surfing, sandcastles, field trips, going to the park, blue jeans, cupcakes, roller coasters, balloons, patios, stargazing, horseback riding, going to the zoo, pinwheels, tree-climbing, tennis, inside jokes, old movies, corn on the cob, teddy bears, graduation, and tree houses.

To me, the shirt represents the last words of one of the international commercials, "Soy vida" which means "I am life."

Tennis the Man

The barely two-year-old waited for her mom to serve up her dinner. She turned to me and said, "Mama's gonna hook me up."

According to the same, the fellow below is Tennis the Man. Dad is the scarecrow, Mom is the lion, and she, of course, is Dorothy.

"Wankees" and Other Spoonerisms

I started to ask a question this morning: "Did the Wankees...?" You'll understand why I was unable to finish the question due to fits of laughter. The questionee helped me out by not making me try again. Instead she just confirmed that the Yankees did win.

And it started me thinking about fun language slip ups I've had. Like the time I called the music shop and asked if they had someone who could "toot my flune." What I really wanted was someone to tune my flute.

And just last week, as I watched my favorite high school football team fumble ball, after ball, after ball, I thought up a cheer to encourage them to hold on to the pigskin. In my head, it went like this: Put on your sticky fingers, hey, hey, hey!" It came out of my mouth like this: "Put on your sticker fingies" and I never even got to the heys.

I know I'm not the only one with language slip ups like these, so I wanted to hear yours. Go on, put it out there and we'll all have a laugh.

Darth Vader Messing with the General

In honor of my 150th post, I decided not to write at all. Rather, I'll post this video:

Central Park

There's a song on my IPod with a play count of 42. It is, of course, "Central Park" from King Kong. Forty-two frankly seems low considering how much I've sought it out for the last two years. Even the other songs on my top 25 most played list (like "Kothbiro" from The Constant Gardener and "God and Nature" from Amazing Grace) come in a distant second in play count. I found the track by liking the composer, James Newton Howard, not by watching the movie. So when I listened to it, I heard and pictured only what the music itself moved my soul to hear and picture.

The trouble is, I watched King Kong last week and today, as I listened, I pictured King Kong holding a laughing Ann Barrow (Naomi Watts) and sliding playfully across the skating rink in Central Park. Curse you, oversized (but totally endearing and lovable) gorilla!

Guess I need some new suggestions for a soul-stirring instrumental song (or one with non English lyrics). Anybody? Hello? Are you still reading, people?

P.S. I know I've been silent a while, but come back tomorrow, I'm going for two days in a row.