#WorldWaterDay: #H2O Is #Life! #GiveBack #Donate #BlackRanger #BuyALadyADrink #waterbaby #watersign

I'm a water baby, some would go so far as to say a nymph. They might not be wrong. (Naiad, Nereid, or Oceanid are all Greek to me. When in Ireland, I'm a seal Selkie.) I was born under a water sign, obviously. I have always been attracted to bodies of water. The first time I saw the ocean as a child, I apparently ran toward it as if greeting an old friend --- and this was merely the Atlantic. The first time I witnessed the Pacific, I nearly lost it. I danced across the beach. The feeling is mutual. Water loves me, too. Whenever I go near the Ocean he tries to splash me. I get chased by Waves. I laugh. It's a game we play.

World Water Day

I say all this as a preface to the day. Today is World Water Day. (Water nymphs everywhere celebrate!) Water is life. We all need it, must have it, and unfortunately there are still far too many people without access to potable water. We can change this. Give clean water, sustain life.

There are several great charities --- like Thirst Project and Water.org --- working to bring potable water to areas in need. Pick one ....or two or three. DONATE. VOLUNTEER. GET ON IT! (Steps down from soap box.)

A few links to check out, a mere starting point:
1. http://www.stellaartois.com/en_us/buy-a-lady-a-drink.html
2. https://www.thirstproject.org/powerrangers/

#WeatherGeek: That One Day of Winter Really Kills #Yaz #AT40 #Nostalgia

The temperature is supposed to continue to drop this morning, down to 34 degrees or thereabouts. Today is our one day of Winter before rebounding to Spring-like temperatures come Friday. While such yo-yo weather has become the new normal around here, this doesn't make it fun.

The pollen count is already hitting very high marks (the equivalent of late Spring totals), as the unseasonably warm weather which occurs most days has convinced trees, plants and flowers that it's much later in the year. So the Winter temperatures shock. Oh, how Winter kills to paraphrase the band Yaz. (By the way, Upstairs at Eric's formed a seminal work in my musical education. Oddly enough, I won the vinyl LP as part of a prize --- along with another LP that left little impression, a 19" color TV, a class ring and some trendy clothing outfit --- in a trivia contest on Casey Kasem's American Top 40 Countdown, circa 1983, I believe. Winning this radio contest altered my perspective in several arenas; my family had only owned a B&W TV up to this point. Color television marked quite a transition. But, I digress...)

As it's difficult for anyone (or anything) to adjust to these drastic swings in temperature quickly, illness has been rampant. This weather pattern wears one down. It will be nice when Spring truly arrives, providing it doesn't continue to return to Winter-like temperatures once a week. If that is going to be the case, I'll need a vacation. Pronto.

#ValentinesDay: #DoRight #RAOK #Love #Hallmark

In my early twenties, I worked at a Hallmark Gold Crown store for a time (while on leave from university) and I unfortunately worked on Valentine's Day that year. It was not a pleasant experience. Never have I encountered so many grumpy, crass and downright rude people in such a short amount of time. It's really sad that a holiday which is supposed to be about love (and not only romantic love, mind, but love of one's fellow man) seemingly brought out the worse in people. I told myself to never turn out like all the people I witnessed in the Hallmark that day.

Personally, I've never been one to harp on holidays, I don't need an arbitrarily approved date to be nice, give gifts, forgive transgressions or play fair. That said, there's nothing wrong with celebrating Valentine's Day. (One can never have too much love.) It's merely an observation that if you have to get so bent out of shape and overwrought in the quest to impress someone on this one day, then things probably aren't right the other 364. Valentine's Day, if anything, should be an enhancement of bonds, not a catchall panacea for all the crap accumulated throughout the rest of the year. But to each his own.

I try to treat the people about whom I care well every day of the year. Certainly, I fall short of this goal upon occasion; I am human and can be a grumpy cuss at times like anyone else. But I would like to think I succeed much more than I fail. (My family and friends would have to confirm this.) Thus, I don't have any special plans for today. I'm not out running around buying gifts at the last minute, in a harried attempt to make the day special (as an afterthought). No, I plan to go about the day much like I go about each day, with a smile and a wave. As for me and mine, I do know there will be pizza and cake (though sadly, not by the ocean, as I'm landlocked this year). And, that's a pretty good start to one fine day, let me tell you.

Happy Valentine's Day! May the true spirit of this day not elude you (or those whom you encounter).

#Muscadine & #Scuppernong the Local #Grapes: #Viticulture & #Oenology #FruitoftheVine

Yesterday, not long after I'd finished browsing the latest issue of Wine Spectator magazine, I was checking messages online when --- my mind still apparently focused on wine --- I noticed a post on a Facebook group about an upcoming annual fruit tree sale at a local non-profit. The event ad listed apple, pear, and pawpaw among the kinds of trees that will be available to purchase and also noted there would be fruit bearing vines like muscadine for sale. My heart must have skipped a beat. KERTHUNK.

There are a few things which will always instantly recall to me the idylls of my childhood in rural Georgia and tart dark purple muscadine grapes, Vitis rotundifolia, and their sweeter "cousins," bulbous green scuppernong grapes (actually a large variety of muscadine) are one of them. My maternal grandmother had plentiful muscadine vines at her house, which were laced over and around a rough-hewn trellis approximately four feet tall, creating a dome that hid a secret "cavern" underneath. As barefoot children, we would crawl through the vines and pry an opening, then sit in the little cave while we ate our fill. The sun would dapple the leaves, casting odd shadows and warming the earth beneath us, as grape juice stained our tongues and T-shirts. Such good memories!

Therefore, I would love to cultivate my own little vineyard featuring our local grape for both food and wine. (Creating a small private vineyard is actually on my "To Do" list for my homestead once developed. Part of my desire to "live off of the land" as well as an indulgence of my interest in viticulture and oenology.) I'm so very tempted to attend this fruit tree and vine sale, but would no doubt come away with far too many things that I fear would go to waste, because I have not yet reached a point where I can accommodate a burgeoning orchard or vineyard. (I hope) by next year's sale, however, it's a date!

Those Wild & Crazy #Vikings! #Norway Ditches #FMRadio, Goes #Berserker. #DAB #BFF

I have a thing for Vikings, or perhaps, more accurately Vikings have a thing for me, because I certainly seem to attract all manner of them. (I kid you not, I was once handed a credit card and told to book myself a flight to Sweden in order to rendezvous with a certain Swede at his cabin in Göteborg --- 'twas quite the pickup line.) It's appropriate then, that one of my besties is a Viking... er... mickay... I mean, he's Norwegian.

The two of us have been good friends for well over 15 years and presumably we'll remain as such for the rest of our lives (baring his or my turning out to secretly be a serial killer or something worse). We met in California when I was still a student at university and he was working as a Silicon Valley Venture Capitalist and afterward spent a LOT of time in each other's company. We were so close that people often assumed we were a married couple when encountering us out & about, and I seemingly picked up a Norwegian inflection to my speech at times.¹

My friend and I continue to keep in touch via Skype (mainly in-app txt & Skype-to-phone), regular txt and email though he's since returned to his native Norway and I'm back in my native Georgia. We crack each other up, as we both have a sometimes acid sense of humor, coupled with a VERY secure sense of self.

An etymological aside: The English word "berserk" meaning crazed or crazy is derived from the Old Norse term bearserk, the frenzy into which bear-skin wearing Vikings or bearserkers would work themselves with all that raping and pillaging, which apparently takes a lot of energy. (You've got to respect a culture that gives yours the word for crazy.)

We spend a good deal of time ribbing each other over the various and sundry things which make our individual countries and cultures great. For instance, a month or so back an entire herd of reindeer were struck by lightning when a freak storm caught them out in the open on a random Norwegian plateau. After seeing the article on a news site, I sent him a quick Skype txt asking why Norway had it in for reindeer and pondered whether Santa Claus would be next on their "hit list."

Norway also happens to be one of the most oil-rich nations in the world and so, (circa 2003, i.e., the Iraq War) I would tease that he'd better watch out because America might "discover" Norway held WMD and use it as an excuse to invade any day now. In his turn, he, of course, laments American hubris and gets in his own zingers. We argue good-naturedly over who's selected for the Nobel Peace Prize each year ---- Norway names its recipient, while Sweden picks the recipients of the remaining Nobels --- and sometimes watch the annual Nobel concert together virtually. Between us, nothing is sacred.

On 11-01-2017 at 11:11a local time, Norway began turning off FM radio transmissions, becoming the first country to officially ditch the band, and started moving to Digital Audio Broadcasting (DAB) which proponents say will be cheaper to operate and provide more clarity of signal. Opponents, of course, worry about the Norwegians who live in far flung rural areas and who travel in older vehicles who might not be able to receive digital signals. It will be interesting to see how this plays out, but either way, it was so kind of Norway to act as world guinea pig in taking on this endeavour. I sent my friend a quick txt asking if he could still hear me now or if the broadcast signal was fuzzy where he is and attached the article. (He lives in an Oslo suburb, so I was obviously being facetious, but that's the point.)

As for the transition to DAB, as a tech geek, I like the idea of a crisp digital radio signal. And I also believe America will have to cross this same bridge soon enough --- rather like our recently completed transition to DTV. But as someone who grew up in a rural area, I can definitely understand the concerns that Norwegians in rural areas are voicing. As America is a much larger country with huge swaths of wide open spaces, such issues will no doubt be compounded for us and a solution (potentially a subsidy like that employed to assure rural America could get telephone service) will have to be found. Fun times are ahead!

____

¹An explanation for my Norwegian accent: At a friend's house party in San Francisco one evening, I happened to end up standing next to some guy who was regaling everyone with tales of the years he'd spent working in Finland. He'd also traveled extensively throughout Scandinavia, he said. He kept trying to cozy up to me and at one point asked if I wanted to go back to his place, which so happened to be right around the corner. Shaking my head "no," I made an offhand excuse which elicited a very odd look from the guy (odder than being politely turned down should have elicited). When I inquired as to why he suddenly looked as if he'd seen a ghost, he responded, "This is so strange, but you just spoke with a Norwegian accent." I laughed so hard I think I probably snorted my drink through my nose. In between my peals of laughter, the poor fellow tried to find out why on earth this was so funny. I finally gasped that as I spent nearly every day hanging out with a Viking, I suppose that was fair consequence and that I'd also never hear the end of it, if said Viking ever gets wind of the fact that he's succeeding in "turning" me Norwegian.