Dinner Table Lilacs
I’ve always been a bit smug about apostrophes. They came right after capitals and periods during all the years I taught primary grades. The rules for using apostrophes are so simple that even second graders could master them. So, I was absolutely flabbergasted to find that it was an apostrophe that caused my most recent cyberspace problems.
Day before yesterday I blogged about my friend Stephanie’s always-welcoming kitchen table and I had a gorgeous photograph of Saturday’s centerpiece of lilacs that I wanted to use to illustrate my blog. No matter what I did, I could NOT get that photograph to load onto the wordpress blog site.
I turned the problem over to Keleigh Schwartz and beachdog.com. They worked on it diligently and late yesterday came up with the answer. I had named my jpg photograph “At Stephanie’s Table” and it was the apostrophe in the title that was fouling me up. As instructed by my web gurus, I removed and renamed and… voilà! I was able to add the photograph to my blog.
Today I’m going to use that very same photograph, now called “Dinner Table Lilacs,” so readers can see it without going back to the previous post. And speaking of ‘previous,’ I did actually blog about the use of apostrophes on May 24th last year in a rant I titled “Apostrophes are Simple. Really.” In it I explained and illustrated these three rules:
Rule #1. Do not use an apostrophe if you want to make a word plural. Not ever.
Rule #2. Do use an apostrophe when you write a contraction.
Rule #3. Do use an apostrophe when you want to show possession.
Now, of course, there is Rule #4: Do not use an apostrophe in the name of a photo. At least, not if you are using whatever combination of tricky software programs that I am apparently hooked up with. Who knew?
Even after the crushing blow of being stopped last May for (yes!) going 40 in a 35 mph zone plus the further indignity of getting a ticket AND going to court, AND getting the ticket ‘forgiven’ but still having to pay $80 in court costs… Yes, even after all of that, I continue to be adamant about following the speed limit and believing that those who ‘cheat’ by a few miles an hour are in the wrong. Period. (But I do get quite huffy about that short stretch on Sandridge where it’s 35, 25, 35, 45 and woe-be-unto-you if your attention wavers.)
I’ve always considered myself quite logical – perhaps more logical than most. My husband often concedes that this is true, but he also points out now and then that my logic is sometimes not in line with the rest of the world’s.
Right next to those disappointing and illogical pictures in the paper was this headline: WellSpring hosting annual town hall gathering. Good! I shifted my attention to reading about a form of democracy that is near and dear to my heart. I’m sure that my New England ancestors were gathering in town halls as early as the seventeenth century, coming together to become informed and to discuss the issues of the day.
As I understand it, “critical mass” as a sociodynamic concept means a sufficient number of adopters of an innovation in a social system so that the rate of adoption becomes self-sustaining and creates further growth. I think “critical mess” is more descriptive of what was happening here on the Peninsula yesterday, and I certainly hope it is far from self-sustaining and quickly dies from lack of interest.
That much I saw as Nyel and I drove by on our way to do a few errands. I also saw a group of young women, all of whom I knew, who were across the street with picket signs. One sign featured a pointing arrow with the words “Not from here.” I empathized with their desire to distance themselves and all of the Peninsula from the unfortunate and disrespectful display across the way.
My introduction to Caprese salad came in the best place possible – on the Isle of Capri where, presumably, it was ‘invented.’ It was a good many years ago (more than fifty) but I remember the day and the excursion to the Blue Grotto and the salad with total clarity. I’ve had the good fortune to return only once, but the azure water, the vistas from the ruins of Emperor Tiberius’s Villa Jovis all come back to me every time I see Insalata Caprese on a menu.
As I backed the car out of the garage and turned south yesterday, we noticed a lot of activity in the church yard. Two little girls, maybe in the seven or eight-year-old range were racing around the flower beds yanking up daffodils. A boy, perhaps a year younger, galloped along beside them. All were laughing and screaming in maniacal delight.
I should have known better than to answer the phone the other night. I was working late on book proofs (well, late for me!) and none of our friends or loved ones EVER calls after nine o’clock. It was no surprise when the man at the other end began the conversation, “You don’t know me, but…”
As I recall, I was a fairly compliant little girl. As an only child, I didn’t need to compete with siblings for attention and, though I can’t cite specific examples, I was probably spoiled – not in a material way because we never had any money. But I don’t remember very many times that I needed to argue with the authority figures in my life in order to get my way.
Since seeing the movie, “Lincoln,” we have been on a Civil War (Nyel) and Lincoln (me) reading marathon. I can’t help but wonder how many other people who saw the film were also prompted to learn more about our sixteenth president and/or the war that dominated his years in office.
My grandparents were avid Lincoln fans as were my parents. There is even a corner of our library devoted to Lincoln – not a shrine exactly, but close. It includes a copy of the deed to this property signed by Lincoln, a photograph of the Lincoln Memorial, a dozen or so books about him, and a plaster bust of his head. Ironically, the bust has been broken at the back – shades of the gunshot wound that killed him?
So often books about Lincoln explain the ‘why’ of his greatness, but the gentle force of his wit is harder to make clear. If I were awarding the Oscars, Lewis would win best actor for that aspect of his portrayal, alone. But… I digress.
As I was reading the email from my webmaster this morning and came to the sentence that began The synoptic answer, in terms of organic results, I’m pretty sure my eyes crossed. I might even have lost consciousness for a nanosecond. Whatever happened “in terms of organic results” was that my brain turned off and I suffered from immediate overwhelmsion.