A Good Year for Soy

On those mornings when I start my day with a bowl of cereal I use soy milk. Studying the carton today I noticed for the first time that the carton says the product is made from North American soybeans.

... And I got to wondering.  Are soybeans like grapes? Do soybeans from South America or Europe have a different flavor than those grown in the U.S.?  Are there good years and bad?  Should I be watching for an opportunity to pick a carton of milk distilled from the Carolina bean of 2010?

Now I'm going to have to study the labeling on competing brands - and perhaps start a soy milk tasting club.

Crying Uncle

Apart from momentary breaks in the cloud cover, we haven't seen sun here in twenty-four days.

When I walked out of the office building today and discovered the ground to be dry I actually started looking forward to going home and mowing the lawn - just because it meant being able to be outside.

Mow the lawn I did - and finished just before another rain front moved in.

Uncle! I give up already? Bring the sun back!

The Next Market Craze

I've discovered the makings of a cottage industry right in my own backyard. A product that's environmentally friendly, all natural, and affordable.

This epiphany came to me as I walked past the backyard pond and heard the surprised squeak of frogs as they leaped from stone outcroppings into the safety of the water.

You might never have noticed, but a surprised frog makes a sound that's a cross between a high pitched YIKES! and the squeak of an infant's toy.

... So why pollute the world with synthetic fabric, squeakers, and non-recyclable packing when you can just hand a kid a frog?

Yep... that's my business idea.  A frog for every crib.  And if a baby sticks its new toy in its mouth... well the frog is completely natural after all.

Now I just have to figure out how to apply food coloring to the frogs. Perhaps a few ponds with a different color of water in each. Color and size options. Yep, that will do it.  Frogs for every occasion.

Night Life

It was a night when sleep lingered just out of reach. A night when the first hours of the new day were announced by the chiming of the mantle clock.. one o'clock, two o'clock.

Warm tea, hot totties, dry books, all failed to take me into the land of dreams.

The tiniest of noises competed for attention until it seemed I must be in the middle of some midnight workshop. LED displays on microwaves, cable boxes, and clocks put out megawatts of light. The shadows cast as I shuffled past these devices were misshapen things that had me wondering about my true identity.

Each mirror, window, and glass-framed picture presented an opportunity to catch a reflection of those ethereal creatures that slink about only in the deadest parts of the night. Not only the hairs on the back of my neck, but those on my arms and legs stood at attention. Nerve endings tingled with racing electric currents.

The hour hand of the clock was nearly on the three when I finally drifted off ...  for my two and-a-half hours of sleep. I was roused not by the alarm but by the scraping scales of night creatures slithering from the light of false dawn.

Make Believe World

I'm starting work on a new children's book. It begins like this:

Tommy knew it was all make believe. Still he loved to listen to his grandfather's stories of a world where a yellow sun hung in the sky, green things grew tall and full, and people went out of doors without so much as an umbrella.

Tommy tried to imagine what it would be like to go outside without rubber boots on your feet or to feel sweat running down your back even when you were standing still. But no matter how hard he worked at it he just couldn't get those things to stick in his mind.

Then came the day that changed Tommy's life. His older sister, Rachel, got a job working in something called a greenhouse. Tommy went with his mother to pick Rachel up from work. A friendly man in blue overalls and a straw hat, a man Rachel called Boss, asked Tommy if he'd like to see where his sister worked. Tommy nodded and was out of the car faster than rain pouring out of a downspout.

Boss opened the door of a building shaped like the top half of a tunnel. Tommy stepped inside and nearly tripped over his own feet. Rather than a long dark tube, the inside of the building blazed with light from hundreds of bulbs. Long rows of low tables held more plants than Tommy had ever seen in one place. Granddad's imaginary world had come to life.

Mud Bog Morning

After a seemingly endless series of dreary and rainy days, my energy has drained into the already over saturated ground. Getting out of the house in the morning has been taking a little longer each day.

I usually arrive at work ten to fifteen minutes early. Today I just knew I was going to be walking through the front door of the office building without a moment to spare.

So I was surprised to find myself sharing the roads with the same delivery trucks, school buses, and memorably decorated cars that I see on a routine basis.

Apparently folks throughout are region are suffering the same mud bog effects.  Regardless of our efforts, we just can't work ourselves free of mental muck.

Bovine Weather Report

Seeing the two cows lying side by side made me think of the belief that cows lie down when it's going to rain.

But what about when they just plain get tired?

I can imagine the bovine conversations:

Millie my hooves are killing me - I've just got to lie down.

Pull yourself together, Myrtle. There isn't any rain on the way. The farmer will think you've lost your mind, or worse yet, have mad cow disease, if you lie down now.

But, Millie, they've been feeding us so much!  I've gained twenty pounds in the past week!

That's the general idea, Myrtle.

But look at my legs - they're shaking from the strain!

Why don't you go lean against that post, Myrtle?

Millie!  Have you lost your mind? The wire that gives shocks is attached to that post!

Hmmm. Yes.  But it'll take your mind off of your tired legs.

Head East Young Man

It seems a reverse migration is under way.  Here in Delaware I have been seeing an increasing number of cars with license plates from California, Utah, Nevada, and even Alaska.

I'm not sure if folks have come east in search of fortunes or if they've been transferred by their employers.

It it's fortunes they're after I'm afraid there's no gold in these here parts - unless of course this is just a rest stop on the way to Fort Knox.

We don't hear much about Fort Knox anymore. Perhaps because there's nothing left to lock up.

The Invisible Front

Motivated Mom and I were traveling this weekend. As we drove along the interstate, we watched drivers weaving in and out, side to side, fast and slow, all in hopes of making it to the front of the line. A line that had no front, for the steady lines of cars went on for as far as we could see.

Inevitably we ended up closing in on those same cars a few miles ahead - all the other drivers' boobing and weaving having been for naught.

While Motivated Mom and I had shared snacks and stories - those other anxious drivers had no doubt driven their blood pressures to the boiling point.

And for what?

Risk Management

The company name on the back of the box truck read Basketville Casket Company.  Higher up on the rear door was the message Please Drive Carefully.

Considering the nature of the business, it seemed to me the message would be to encourage risky driving.

Time Slip Confirmed

Some of you may remember that back in June (June 8 to be exact) I was postulating that seasons had gone out of whack and were changing a month or two sooner than the dates on the calendar.

Back then I was commenting that June felt like August and that when August finally rolled around we would be in a chill down.

I wasn't far off considering the early morning temperatures of the past week have driven me to the back of my closest in search of sweatshirts.

But I'm taking heart and looking at the positive side of things.  The return of hot weather is two months closer than the calendar reports.  I'll be breaking the shorts and sandals back out in late March.

Sun Embryo

If you believe everything you read in the Farmer's Almanac, then for every heavy fog that occurs during the season formally known as Autumn, there will be a snow event during the typically frigid months of the year.

So I'm grateful that we have not yet reached the Post-Summer equinox because I'd need an extra set of fingers to count all of the foggy mornings we've had recently.

More often than not it seems, the sun as been muted in the hours that it first breaks the horizon. Turned to rusty yellow by the damp air, the sun has looked like the yoke of a fertilized egg floating in watery lemon-lime jello.

Set a Course...Engage

What were you doing September 8, 1966?  If you were at least eight years old at the time, there's a decent chance you were watching the first episode of Star Trek.

It seems scarily coincidental that mere days after the 45th Anniversary of Star Trek's first showing I should find myself reading about HD 85512 b - a planet that has been categorized as a super-earth.

It seems HD 85512 b lies 36 light years away in the constellation Vela. -- I can hear that sentence slipping out of the mouth of either Captain Kirk or Captain Picard. The only words missing are set a course and engage.

When I read that astronomers consider HD 85512 b to be relatively close to our own Earth, I did some investigating. 

It would take a little over 76,000 earth years for a NASA space shuttle to travel 1 light year. Making HD 85512 b nearly 3 million earth years away.  Mr. Scott really needs to get those warp engines on line.

Turbulence

The day has rolled by like time lapse photography. Fog, sun, clouds, showers, sun, clouds, sun, showers, sun, thunderstorms - the weather has changed on half hour intervals.

Now a full moon hangs in a sparsely clouded sky. A calm after a long day of battles - or a quiet breath before the next transition.

It occurs to me today has been a snapshot of life. Turbulence with intermittent sunshine. Precious are the moments of peace.

Home or Mordor?

It was as though the world had turned upside down and the top of my car was pointing toward the ground. Below...errr... above me was a muddied stretch of landscape broken by a bright blue river weaving crookedly but nevertheless clearly differentiating north from south.  The "river" ran from western to eastern horizon. To the south more of the muddied landscape disappeared into an early evening haze.

I was almost hesitant to continue on, reluctant to cross to the far side of the inviting blue. I felt a little like Frodo standing at the edge of The Shire and looking off toward Mordor.  Still, to the south was home, so I ventured on.

Perfect Zen

My friend sat on the floor with her legs crossed; her feet impossibly positioned on opposing thighs, soles of her feet facing upward. She sat with her back straight and arms extended, wrists resting on her knees. Her thumbs an forefingers, touching at the tips, formed perfect O's.

Halfway to the floor I had given up achieving a similar position, choosing instead to settle into the recliner.

Your body is a temple, my friend said. If the best you can do is lower your bulk into a chair what does that say about your spiritual health?

It says, I replied, that I have achieved perfect zen.  I acknowledge that you are you, I am I, and all is as it is meant to be.

Bethany's Blues

The folks who frequent Bethany Beach, DE know there's only one thing to do when the last official day of summer vacation season winds down - schedule a funeral.

And that's just what they did. They held a funeral for Summer complete with open casket and tombstone. The mourners, may dressed in black, processed down the boardwalk to carry the casket to it's final resting place.

No one wanted to mothball summer's happy memories, so the funeral had a jazz-fest theme to give appropriate balance to the somber occasion.

While I'm far from ready to give up on the summer mentality, I can empathize with these folks. Though there are still plenty of warm summer days ahead, the recent evening chills are constant reminders that post-summer is knocking at the door.  The handing off of the baton brings a mix of emotions that seem best expressed by the fluctuating moods of jazz and blues.

The reassuring thing about yesterday's funeral - it's guaranteed a successful exhumation and reincarnation are ahead.

Measuring Memories

We spent the weekend creating resilient memories.

While each and every moment of each and every life becomes a memory, the strongest memories are those created from either a spike of emotion or a gathering of friends.

This weekend was filled with friends and family gathered in the kitchen, around the dining room table, and on the beach. Stories were shared, laughter was passed around, and comfortable yawns became contagious.

As the weekend drew to a close, each of us headed back to our schedules with our own special memories of the weekend - memories given strength by the number of people who shared them - memories crafted into far more than a fleeting remembrance.

Costume Change

The early morning attire of dog walkers has changed from shorts and t-shirts to jeans and sweatshirts.

It is a sight I welcome about as much as a pig welcomes the sight of catering truck pulling a barbecue spit.

It doesn't seem right that the last "official" summer weekend should be one in which temperatures are projected to struggle to remain in the 70's during the day.

Speaking of the Labor Day weekend - here's wishing everyone a safe and happy holiday.  For those of you who will continue to labor on hurricane cleanup, I salute your dedication.