My regular readers know what a hard time I had with spam when I first started. No, not the typical barrage of spam you get from other people – I was spam! I couldn’t crawl out of the Akismet hole I must have inadvertently dug for myself. Well, one of the best serious history writers in Blogland, J. G. Burdette, took a swipe at spammers swarming her site today.
You should check it out if you don’t read her regularly. Then become a regular reader.
For those spammers who can’t spell, she included this poem in her comment box. Maybe that’s how I became a spammer in the first place – poor spelling. I had to look up raspberry the other day. I couldn’t even spell it right when WP told me it was wrong. After two tries, I gave up and googled it.
Did I just admit that I can’t spell?? Yikes, I’m getting much too comfortable with all of you. Are my clothes all still on? (Pat, pat, pat) Yep. I haven’t come that clean! Whew!
Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.
Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.
As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.
Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.
I love to write about spam,. My husband hesitantly told me yesterday that my MAJOR fault is a short fuse. When my fuse blows with Spammers, I write. You can tell by the number of posts, that my fuse has sputtered into flame several times! 🙂 There were a few others that came up when I did a search of my website, but I think Spam was just a passing word.
So if you haven’t checked out her site already, CLICK HERE. (…and write your best spammy comment in her comment box. BE NICE – REMEMBER SHE’S MY FRIEND!!! See if she can tell a real spam from a fake one! Psssst, don’t tell her I sent you!) Shhhhh 🙂 Oops, she reads my blog.
Even in 1855 few humans had choose between living in an enchanted forest with fairies or living with humans, between dwelling in a forested utopia or in a nation about to be torn by the most devastating war in the history of the United States, or between becoming immortal or remaining mortal. Cian, a fairy whose Gaelic name meant ancient, dreamed about the coming of a secret child to the hidden community of fairies who inhabited the forest known as Carolina Bay. He awaited this secret child.
Marika, a gypsy child, with mystical eyes and a magical singing voice, had been promised by her “Da” to a gypsy prince named Jacko in the midlands of South Carolina. In the spring of 1855 when her “Gran” passed away, Marika left her Da and journeyed by train from Boston to South Carolina to meet the man who had paid Da a good price for her special gifts. Required by “Irish Traveler’s” tradition to take a chaperone, Marika begged to take her five-year-old brother, Danny with her. During the long train ride to Carolina, Danny fell sick, and concerned onlookers, who had not seen Marika with him, removed him to get medical treatment. Marika got off, unseen by the crowd that surrounded her brother. Unnoticed by anyone at the station Marika decided to reconsider her life as a child-bride before she sought her betrothed.
In South Carolina a kind, gentle group of Quakers who strongly opposed slavery, cared for Danny and and eventually Marika. Marika imbibes the kindness of two strangers like a warm cup of milk on a sleepless night, a widow, Maggie, and a free Negro, Joseph. Knowing that she can’t reveal herself or her betrothed as being members of the secret community of gypsies, she finds deeper refuge in the forest around the mythical Carolina Bay.
In the year that ensued Marika had many adventures in both the fairy and the human world. At the end of the year, she had to choose between living in the human world into which she was born, or becoming an adopted child of the fairy world. Which would she choose? Would she choose the many friends she has made among the kind strangers in the human world, and help them battle the institution of slavery? Or would she choose life limited to the confines of an enchanted forest living as a fairy, hidden from human eyes, never to experience the love of human companionship?
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I do love blogging, and I try to post consistently so that my blogging friends will know I’m alive and keep coming to see me. I recently read a recommended book, Getting Started with Twitter for Dummies, and updated my Twitter account. There I learned blogging tips from Daniel Sharkov, a 19-year-old. So today, because of his recommendation, I just added a new page, New Here, to help explain why I’m here on this blogging planet. Check it out and tell me if it looks ok. I like the idea when I meet new bloggers to have this available in addition to About. Do you prefer links or narrative on a page? Or both?
Now that I’ve been at this blogging experiment for over a year, it’s time to clean house, and reorganize to make my blog house more comfortable and inviting. I do love a sparkling clean house – although mine isn’t always. I love my closets to be organized, but they aren’t because I keep adding stuff to them. I like to redecorate, too. So every so often I have to make decisions, organize, straighten, spruce up, and dust. I’m going to be doing that to my blog house, so bear with me while I’m under construction. I’ll still be open for visits, and I have plenty of lemonade and cookies to share. Which reminds me, I’m hungry! Want a waffle with strawberries for breakfast?
Skipping to another topic completely, yesterday Sally invited me to go with her to the Iris Festival in Porterville, CA Before I close I thought you might like to see some of the beautiful irises. This place won’t be here next year. They sold their property and are pulling up all their plants and moving them to Utah , I believe. So enjoy them for this year. This is my first and last encounter with them, BUT I did by three rhizomes. Sorry I didn’t get the names of all of the flowers. I started taking pictures of names later in the game. Thank you Sally Pace for inviting me to go. The ice cream at Orange Works was wonderful, too! mmmm fresh squeezed orange ice cream swirled with vanilla. mmm I’m still hungry! mmm
As a native Hoosier, my tendency is to be hospitable. My mother always loved to have company, and it didn’t matter when you came, if she was home, she would get you a glass of iced tea or Pepsi, and you all would sit down and visit. At Grandma’s that visit also included a walk through the yard to see what had bloomed since the day before when you were last there.
I guess I haven’t outgrown that upbringing. Even when Vince and I don’t have company, we still walk around the yard almost daily to see what new things he planted or how his garden grows.
When we bought our home 12 years ago, we named it Bellavista. At the time the house was more of a shack, and the acre a blank slate than a beautiful view, but for 12 years my husband has worked on creating his own bella vista. I have to admit that most of my contributions have come in the form of praise, which he adores.
Two days ago we went out, because he wanted to try my new Tameron lens. Unfortunately, I forgot to put it back on automatic focus, and I took some of the pictures with my vision corrected differently, and Vince took some of the pictures, and his vision is different from mine. So some of them are just not as sharp as the lens is capable of producing. At least I know what was wrong with them. You get to see life the way my lasik eyes see things unless I correct my distance vision. It’s not as good as walking a mile in someone’s shoes, but the idea is the same. 🙂
Hoosier, by the way, is the blurred way we say, “Who’s there?” in Indiana. I don’t have much of a Hoosier accent, but I do blur my words as well as my pictures sometimes, according to Vince. hmmmm Hope you’ve enjoyed our spring walk around the front of the house. Now, what shall we talk about? It’s open. I’ll chat if you will. 🙂
I found this A Word A Week Challenge browsing your websites. Workers, are they professional, blue-collar, amateurs learning a hobby? Are workers those who work outside or inside? Is work physical or mental, or both? Genesis tells us that six days God worked, and on the seventh day God rested. I’m sure his work involved a bit of thought and creativity as well as some pretty heavy lifting – even if He was just filling craters with water and microscopic creatures, and scattering a few stars and galaxies across the universe. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photograph to share with you of God, or my work here would be finished. Do workers have to get paid, or are many workers unpaid? Here are a few shots I have that show people working. Most of these workers are paid.
My most recent photograph, of course was taken when I took a Wildflower class and worked diligently to learn how to us a tripod, focus my camera manually, and sneak in a change in f stop or two. I got very tired that day. Here are two workers taking a break as the teacher energetically works on.
Most of the time Pam works in Mike’s Quality Camera store in Visalia. Her dad is retired, but started the successful retail business. At least two of his children work there along with several other dedicated photographers. They must work very hard because the store seems to be thriving. Their hard work involves pleasing people like me, and making sure that we are happy with our products so that we come back and buy from them and not go to a Best Buy or Costco for our expensive purchases.
This telephone lineman just happened to be climbing up a pole when I walked by without my camera. He was busy enough to wait until I ran home and got my camera to let me take his picture. One neighbor had complained of static on the phone line. I told him that we had static, too. He must have done something right because I haven’t heard it since he left.
The most delicious sandwiches in Tulare County come from Orange Works, a little restaurant east of Visalia and north of Porterville on Hwy 65. This cheerful worker may be the daughter of one of the owners.
This operation was putting a new heating unit on our roof. Dangerous business, if you ask me.
It took three men to remove the old unit and install the new one, two air conditioner installers, and a crane operator. How do you think these three men are stratified, or are they, and why?
These guys work at a nearby nursery. This tree was much too big for us to carry home in the pick-up! I used to work in the nursery of our church. I think I worked harder!
You’ve seen this orange picker before. He can’t see the orange grove for the trees.
Grape workers pack efficiently in the shade of a make-shift structure on a beautiful fall day. Who has the better work? The picker, the packer or the driver? That is the big question really. Workers stratify themselves. My guess is that this driver thinks he has the better job. For one thing, there are more pickers than drivers, so the driver might feel elite. The driver sits rather than stands. oooooh He looks over them and is idle while they work, but they don’t watch him while he’s doing all his work. They may see him work sometimes, but some of his work is invisible to them. He gets to use expensive equipment. My guess is that he is better paid, and by that criterion has the “better” work, but is it? And to go even deeper, is he the better worker? hmmm
Finally, Rick Rossiter makes all his own toys and props to tell each story. He memorizes the stories, and goes from school to school telling the stories he memorized that year. Each year his theme changes. You might say he is the court jester of modern days. Is he working?
Social studies teachers, wouldn’t this be a great assignment for your students to do?
Who is the better worker? Do you think it is the one who works harder with his hands or his brain, or the one who uses both? Or does salary determine who the better worker is? Justify your answer with logical reasoning using examples.
Are people stratified where you work? What makes the strata? (strata plural of stratum – I wanted to add an s) In this grouping of mine, who do you think has the “better” work, and why? Ok besides God! Come on – you knew I wasn’t going to fall for that easy answer, didn’t you?