Category Archives: #life style and entertainment/easyliving

The Alphabet Series B is For Bootylicious

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New Thoughts On Words

Bootylicious Bouillabaisse

    Bootylicious is on my mind. It happens to writers. Words jump into our minds and refuse to leave. I could blame Beyonce` Knowles, but the truth is I like the word. Its rhythm somehow attaches itself to bouillabaisse and bingo, becomes an onomatopoeia dancing around my head.

The American language evolves quickly and when a word becomes popular it is included in the dictionary. Merriam Webster has a paid staff that scans publications and records the frequency of a new word or expression before deciding.

The Webster dictionary defines booty as spoil taken from an enemy in war or loot.

In the today’s world Bootylicious is slang; a compound word, booty or buttock with delicious. The song “Bootylicious” made the term well-known.

Words are added yearly. Recent additions are cougar, helicopter parent, soccer- mom and EEVO an original by Rachael Raye.  A few of the words for 2012 are: man cave, coperniciu, energy drink, game changer, gastropub, mash-up.

So what does Bootylicious Bouillabaisse bring to my mind?

Picture Beyonce` dressed in a black corset and spike high heels joining  Julia Child in the kitchen for a cooking lesson.

We will need something like the time machine in “Back to the Future” to transport Beyonce` to Marseille to learn from the American chef and food writer.

Close your eyes and imagine  Meryl Streep as Julia Child in Julie and Julia if you have to.

Julia opens the conversation with,  “to me the telling flavor of bouillabaisse comes from two things: the Provençal soup base — garlic, onions, tomatoes, olive oil, fennel, saffron, thyme, bay, and usually a bit of dried orange peel — and, of course, the fish — lean, firm-fleshed, soft-fleshed, gelatinous, and shellfish.”[3] Wikipedia

Beyonce`  questions the chef, “Lean and firm, that part girl I know what you talkin bout. Gelatinous…I know you gotta work your jelly. Gelationous? Got to text Jay Z. He’ll know bout that.”

Julia emphasises the B saying, “bouillabaisse is a fish stew. You combine two actions, blhir (French to boil) and abaissar (to reduce).

Beyonce` says with an attitude and one hand on her hip,  “I can boil fine, real fine. She shakes her booty to mimic Julie’s stirring

Julia’s voice crescendos saying,  “Not a hard boil, a slow steady bubbling.” And purses her lips saying ” Then turn it real low and slow.”

Beyonce` says “I gotcha, girl”

Bon  Appetite

                       ….just saying

There were 370 words added in 2022; dumbphone, video doorbell, janky, greenwash, and yeet are a few. We’ve updated the Merriam contains all of them.

P.S. Post written in 2013. Although dated still makes me laugh. Hopefully you will too.

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A is for Acerbic -The Alphabet Series

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   (The conversation below is between two women in a doctor’s waiting room. )

                                                                                                                                                    Acerbic

“Unacceptable!  My time is of value, too.  Why aren’t you complaining?”

“I was told the doctor was running late when I signed in.”

“This is ridiculous.  I’ve been waiting more than twenty minutes.  My appointment was for nine fifteen.  What time was your appointment?”

“Well, I’m not sure; I think nine thirty, why?”

“It’s better if everyone is out of sorts.  I can complain for you, make something up, like your dog is in the car, sick and needs to be taken to the Vet.”

“Reading here is as enjoyable as anywhere.”

“Boy, you people are annoying, must you be so perky and pleasant?”

“You’re upset.  Why don’t you thumb through a magazine?  There’s a travel article about Hawaii in this one.  Have you been there?”

“You think looking at pretty pictures of places I can’t afford to travel to will help me… what?  Be happy I have to wait for a man, I pay to tell me I’m sick.  And looking at colorful advertisements won’t help either.  I’m Acerbic.  My parents and grandparents, on both sides, were Acerbic and proud of it.”

“Acerbic?  Is that … American or … a religion?”

“Acerbic is a way of life.  You got a problem with that?  Our dispositions are generally crabby.  We find fault in others quickly and enjoy being sarcastic.”

“Golly gee, everyone feels crabby from time to time.”

“Golly gee?  Golly gee, we’ve been sitting here over a half hour.  Can’t you pretend you’re a little annoyed?  That wing back chair looks awful uncomfortable.  These doctors are all the same; think they’re better than the rest.”

“His nurse said the doctor had an emergency, it sounded serious.  Are you really Acerbic?”

“Our whole neighborhood is Acerbic.  We don’t like friendly.  People yell, ‘Don’t park in front of my house, jerk’ and threaten, ‘If your dog pees on my grass, I will call the police!’  Although things are changing.  Someone, I can’t find out who, moved my garbage pail out of the street on a windy day.”

“You don’t mind if I read my book?’

“Of course I mind.  I get it.  Why not say shut-up?  Add please if you have to.  It’s easy; watch my lips, ‘Will you please shut-up!’ ”

“No, tell me about your life.”

“Actually I had a great childhood.  We owned a small cabin not far from Route 95 below the Georgia border.  Dad named it Acerbia.  It was a retreat where we could be sour and discontent on weekends and during vacations.  You know, say nasty things about neighbors and relatives.”

“Was that fun?”

“Are you kidding, of course, the best.  By the way, they call me Unfortunately.  I’m Unfortunately Fortunato.  What’s your name?  Not that I care.”

“Unfortunately is a first name?  And Fortunato your family…?”

“Mom wanted an Acerbic name, nothing cheerful or common like Hope, Joy or Grace.”

“That had to be a difficult name for a child.  Did she think it was a mistake?”

“No, Difficult and Mistake are my brothers.  Mother named them good, too, because Difficult is in prison and Mistake, chronically unemployed.”

“Was that a surprise?”

“They still haven’t called anyone.  All they do is talk on the phone.  Someone else has to complain.  You can do it.  I like your pink eyebrows.”

“My eyebrows are pink?”

“Yea, they match your lipstick, compliment that bluish tint in your hair, and look cool on a woman your age.”

“My hair isn’t blue! I’m not that old.”

“Isn’t that book you’re reading in large print?”

“It’s easier I don’t have to remember my glasses.”

“Most seniors get a little forgetful.  It’s normal, not a problem unless you can’t remember what glasses are.  You know glasses magnify things, right?”

“I know what glasses are for and I didn’t forget them.  I do not need them to read a large print book.”

“Did you hear that?  The receptionist called Ms. Fortunato.  That’s me, Unfortunately.  Doc’s ready for me.  Have a rotten, day”

“You too, and my eyebrows aren’t pink!”

                                                                                         . . . just saying

   The Alphabet Series is an approach bloggers use to infuse new life or creativity into their writing.    “Acerbic” is the first post in my series “New Thoughts For Words”.   “Acerbic” draws on personal experience and is published in FWA, Let’s Talk by Peppertree Press.The challenge for that Anthology was to use a dialogue format to present your short story.

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What are you reading?

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Jackie and Maria

Recently, my husband and I flew on Allegiant Airline from Florida to Albany, New York. The plane was on time, a direct flight, and the staff accommodating and friendly.

However, I hope I never have to fly this airline again.  

Why? There are caveats, aka; Allegiant’s nickel and dime approach to flying.

Ordering the tickets on-line was a nightmare. I’d purchased two round-trip tickets, I thought. The total cost was $659.50, and included two seats, (neither one of us wanted to stand on the trip), the fee to carry-on our bags and the cancellation option. The constant pop-ups through-out the process made me dizzy. I even signed up for their credit card, because I thought I had to.

Twenty-four hours before, I checked myself-in. But couldn’t check-in my husband.

Come to find out, after hanging on hold for one plus hours, and listening to a constant reminder to resolve your flight concerns on-line, I spoke to a human. They convinced me I’d purchased only one ticket. I argued. . . that can’t be. . . I paid for two seats.

So, I bought an additional ticket, last minute, paid again for the seat next to me, that I’d already paid for, and checked luggage for a cost of $ 461.50.

When everything was said and done, the cost for two round trip tickets was $1,121.00!

I was in tears and my husband standing behind me said, “Pay them whatever they want, you can’t go alone.” I felt like a hostage and he was paying ransom.

ONE THOUSAND AND ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS, to fly from Florida to New York, on Allegiant, the cheap airline.

Now do the math. The flight was full, 180 seats. If every passenger paid $461.50, the airline took in $90,000. If they paid $659.50, the take would be $118.710.

So, Allegiant collected between 90 and 119 thousand dollars for a two hour and fifteen-minute direct flight.

 But. . . money was made elsewhere. Snacks and beverages; and you pay for water. The only thing free was use of the toilet. Rumor has it toilet paper will be an add on soon.

Last, but not least, (don’t get you panties in a twist) you must have the Allegiant app on your phone, or print your boarding pass at home, otherwise it will cost you $5 to have it printed at the airport.

Whew! Talk about stress. I thought I would lose my mind.

BUT! We landed early!

                                                               * * *

The sun was out the first day of our vacation and the next, for our family gathering. It was wonderful.

However, it rained everyday thereafter.

 Fortunately, my sister, Mel, gave me a book.  Jackie and Maria, by Gill Paul (historical-fiction) and I couldn’t put it down.

I often quote Jackie Kennedy Onassis’s response to the interview question, “Mrs. Kennedy, what is your greatest accomplishment? Jackie said, “I didn’t lose my mind.” I guess she never flew Allegiant.

After reading Jackie and Maria, it was a miracle she didn’t. Evidently though, she was a compulsive shopper.  I totally enjoyed this read.

You’ll find more reviews on goodreads.    

                                                                                         . . . just saying

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It’s Fathers Day

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Sweet Memories

The pedaling of an old man riding a wide-tire bicycle grabs my attention as I drive Acoma road. The methodical around and around of the bike’s wheels is mesmerizing.  I press the car brakes, slow to a crawl and drop back, to give the senior space, as we approach the corner stop.

He wears red Keds, and a large droopy straw hat shades his face from the morning sun. He sports a long sleeve plaid shirt and hazardous baggy Dockers. The blue and chrome fender bike has no basket or hand brakes.

Behind him rides a man in a metallic Speedo shirt, and black skin-tight shorts.  He wears a helmet and mustache, and he does not pass abruptly. Instead, he moves to coast gently beside the elder, a solid traffic barrier.  They ease the corner, two abreast, like dancing a Minuet synchronized to Chopin.

I stop at the corner. . . rather than go straight. I turn right. . . and follow them, absorbing their relationship.

They are a pair. Paternal. Their head, back, and shoulders are a younger/older version, of the other.  The son deliberately peddles ahead, never looks back, but hoovers; and allows his father to ride independently. The old man’s bike wheels don’t wobble. The handlebars do not shake. There is an air of pride accompanying his movement.

As they resume their single file adventure, I drive by, see his wrinkled face, and guess the elder is eighty. I catch a glimpse of the son’s full head of peppered gray hair, and face with minimal expression lines, when passing, and guess . . . he’s nearing sixty.

My mind conjures a past Father’s Day,

I imagine it is 1958, the father wears the same plaid shirt, Dockers and Keds. The son, is dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The father, leads the way with subtle protectiveness and allows the son to celebrate his newly acquired skill, riding a bike.

“Daddy, look at me!” He yells with a big smile.

Today is Father’s Day 2012. I watch the pair celebrate with the simple act of being together. Pedaling their bicycles, and needing each other in a different way.

                                                                               . . . just saying

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*Post was originally published in 2012, over ten years ago.

A Victory Garden

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Smithsonian Library Cultivating America’s Garden

Last week’s discussion explored the silliness of buying and discarding plastic, and how to STOP. Reader’s comments that they reuse glass jars instead, does make more sense and I’ve adopted the practice.

My friend, Pat, suggested buying laundry detergent sheets on line. She’s mentioned this before, and now I’m ready to listen. Those huge plastic containers are difficult to lift, store, and estimates say; take 450 years to decompose in a landfill. Carol, my Wordle consort, said fabric softener sheets are the way to go.

Clean People offers both laundry and softener sheets at reasonable prices on line.

But when Johanna quoted a daughter-in-law’s plea “TO SAVE THE PLANET,” I conjured numerous images in my head. Eleanor Roosevelt was among them, and although she crusaded for many causes her Victory Garden stands out for me.

“Victory gardens (originally called war gardens or liberty gardens) made their first appearance during World War I (1914–1918). President Woodrow Wilson called on Americans to plant vegetable gardens to ward off the possible threat of food shortages. Americans took up the challenge as a civic and patriotic duty.”

The idea wasn’t new, but Eleanor gave it momentum because people began one by one to plant a garden. And nosy neighbors, not wanting to be unpatriotic planted one too.

“In 1943, with World War II underway, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt had a victory garden planted on the front lawn of the White House—just one of the millions of victory gardens planted that year. Staged photographs in seed catalogs and instructional manuals often showed women and children tending victory gardens. The message: abundant yields were possible for any aspiring gardener. Today, the Smithsonian’s Victory Garden flourishes on the 12th Street side of the National Museum of American History. In the summer, the garden showcases heirloom varieties of flowers and vegetables that were available to gardeners during World War II.”

There are numerous Save the Planet organizations. All of them do good work, but none have resulted in a grass roots effort to get us to STOP USING PLASTIC. Perhaps. . .you and me can spread the word.

                                                                               . . . just saying

P.S. Don’t look to me for a Victory Garden, in Florida our soil is sand, and if the deer don’t eat it, a rabbit or bug will.

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Plastic. . . That’s What We Need to Talk About

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Remember the movie The Graduate? It was released in 1967 and has become more relevant over time. One scene kept flashing through my mind as I read an Associated Press newspaper article* about the future of plastic. It’s a graduation … Continue reading →

A Cozy Life

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BEL AIR FINE ART Studio Saint Tropez France

Cozy, that’s the genre I was recently told my novel fits. So, I got out my thesaurus.

Cozy implies; pleasant, comfortable, homelike, conversational, intimate, happy, or blissful.

Basically, without stress. I’m done with laser fast pace plots that make me pull my hair out. Novels with shock endings, or the reader is left hanging, or the ending is just bazaar.

How about you? What genre do you enjoy?

Today, the 147th day of the year, I asked myself, Do I have a cozy life?

Yes, despite the numerous daily challenges. My husband was rushed to the hospital last Sunday. I say he dodged another bullet, and fortunately home on Tuesday. Then Bob’s brother-in-law died and his family of origin is creating chaos. Their primary complaint and I quote, “Nobody told them (seven siblings and their mother, who are less than 10 miles away) he was in the hospital.” We are 1200 miles away. The man died on his BIRTHDAY!

Then there is the mundane. The electricity on the patio stopped working, the inside of the dishwasher is rusted and leaves orange marks on the plates. But the plates are clean. And the sprinkler system turns on in the rain. Oh, I almost forgot, I’m still walking crooked.

But, let us not loose perspective, I’m not living in the Ukraine, nor with the despot, Putin.

Although the three-ring USA political circus is about to begin.

We are constantly being shocked by world events, and the media’s attempt to report a breaking big story, interrupting TV shows and stunning readers with inflammatory headlines. There is so much conflict, hate, and turmoil in the world, please don’t let it spill into entertainment, give us a break.

                                                                                      . . . just saying

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Words Matter

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Does every word count?

Writers think so! They think grammar and punctuation does too.

Discussions about a comma can be endless. Even a pause makes a difference to a writer. Remember Meryl Streep in The Bridges of Madison County?

However, word choice trumps all of that, and has greater value or impact today.

But, writers are schooled to use actions verbs.

This is when a thesaurus is worth its weight in gold.

Instead of hate. . . a writer might use, dislike, prefers, or never cared for. Instead of angry he could choose, annoyed, upset or bothered.

For example;

                    John hates people who wear purple underwear.

                     John dislikes people who wear purple underwear.

However, both sentences have a problem. John is being targeted, not his underwear. The person hates yellow underwear. (I have no preference about other people’s underwear or if they wear underwear. However, . . . I cringe at the latest fashion, t-strap bikini swimwear.)

I’m getting sidetracked. Back to the point, what you say has power.

Man sentence for Murder, a story in this Sunday’s Daytona New Journal, got my attention. After reading the article I felt sorry for the man.

Here’s what happened. Joel Tatro told James Z. Powell, 15 at the time, he was not invited to and had to leave a gathering at Tatro’s home in 2019. Powell left and came back and shot the homeowner. Paralyzed from the neck now, the homeowner lived for three more years, then died from COVID.

James Z. Powell chose these words to express his condolences to the Tatro family.

Quote from the newspaper. “But this situation was never supposed to happen. This was a COVID death, sir. I never had no intention of doing no harm to him. I’m not the person that they are trying to paint me to be. I’m not a criminal. I’m not a gang member. I’m just me.

                                                                                     

. . . just saying

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Why Do the Things We Do

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What Day Is It?

Today is Saturday, May 13th , the one hundredth and thirty-third day of the year. We’ll be half way through 2023, on day one hundred and eighty-two; and there are forty-nine days until we reach that milestone, July 1st..

Why these snippets of information are important to me, I’m not sure. Never the less, every morning before getting out of bed, I mentally review the date, the day of the week and things I must do.

Does anyone else do this?

This morning, I smiled, grateful for no have to list. No doctor’s appointments, pick up this, return that, or stopping by. Which meant, no; where did I park the car, leave my cell, or oops, I left my credit card and bags in the car.

Why not head to the beach? Because, I can’t take the sun, the water’s still cold, and there are no lifeguards.

 Instead, we watched the movie The Summer of 42, on TCM, at 7am in the morning. Both of us had been awake since 5.

Why do I care about forty-nine days from now and the year being half gone? Well, we know time will start to fly after July 1st., and the holidays will be here and gone. Blink and it will be 2024, and we’ll all be another year older.

I have been working on my first novel for ten years, and have a zoom session with the editor/publisher and illustrator on Monday. There will be many must do lists in my future and hopefully some fun.

But I feel the days slipping away    

                                                                                      . . . just saying

P.S. Optomobility update; The eye doctor prescribed eye glasses with prisms to correct my walking cock-eyed. I’ve never heard of this cure. Have any one else?

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