It was a special day. You could climb that lifeline right into the sky. Photo by Tui Cameron

I told him I already knew about the Space Pen, ‘cuz I’d seen it advertised in the back of my dad’s Popular Mechanics magazines as a kid. (I also wanted a spy camera, and one of those hovercraft kits they advertised. I could easily imagine flying over the wheat fields behind our house in a hovercraft – so cool!)

“The Russians faced the same problem with their space program,” my boyfriend continued, unwittingly interrupting my wheat field hovercraft reveries.

“Huh?”

“Writing in space.”

“Oh, yeah. Tough to keep ink flowing in micro-gravity,” I said, trying to save face by sounding knowledgeable. (Full disclosure: this is my go-to response when covering for daydreaming.)

“Right. Except that, instead of spending millions of dollars developing a Space Pen, the Russians approached the problem differently.”

“What do you mean?”

“They gave their astronauts pencils.”

So with that in mind, I tried not to spend my day building Space Pens when a pencil would suffice. Not sure if I succeeded, but I crossed a few things off the old to-do list – with a pencil!

This ad could save you years of therapy. Photo by Tui Cameron

In my opinion, Belgians make the best beer in the world, specifically Belgian monks. I’m not a big Stella Artois or Hoegaarden fan, but when it comes to Belgian trappist ales, I must say – yum. To my palate, that’s what beer is all about!

But enough about beer, what do I really want to talk about? I am not sure, and I am running out of time to post. In a few minutes, I’m meeting a friend I have not seen in over 10 years! Life’s pachinko ball randomness tossed us both in the same tiny Texas town, and we just found out, via Facebook, no less. We were in such different places – geographically and otherwise – in our lives the last time we saw each other. I was married and running a coffeehouse… Now, she is married and just had a baby!

Sadly, she is moving in a couple of weeks! Even so, if it weren’t for Facebook, we would never have made today’s connection. Pretty cool, eh? Have you found any long lost pals via the interwebs?

Festive rosemary and mini marshmallows. Photo by Tui Cameron

I wrote an article about a restaurant today and came up with a line that amused me. Wanna hear it? OK. Here ya go: “What the decor lacks in taste, the cuisine makes up for in flavour.” Yeah, I wrote “flavour” ‘cuz it’s for a British-based company.

When writing for British publications, I try to make things easier for my editors by using the proper words and spelling for the UK: eggplant/aubergine, zucchini/courgette, jewelry/jewellery, curb/kerb. One that especially cracks me up is that “fanny pack” is “bum bag” to the Brits. Not that I talk about fanny packs much, but still – in England, “fanny” is slang for a lady’s intimate parts, so I try to avoid it.

I recently saw the new Harry Potter movie and was annoyed that they had Hermione call out, “Mom,” instead of, “Mum,” and that the characters wished each other, “Merry Christmas,” instead of, “Happy Christmas.” I mean, c’mon! It’s set in England. They’ve got British accents. Can’t they just be themselves? And even though P.T. Barnum once remarked that, “No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public,” I still think people – even us Americans – would be able to figure out what they meant. Sheesh!

Speaking of words and etymology, I found a magnificent blog called Playing in the Word Farm by a guy named Stan. He recently posted about words that are related in surprising ways. Did you know, for instance,that ‘cybernetic,’ and, ‘governor,’ are closely related? How about, ‘galaxy’ and, ‘lettuce,’ or ‘Greek,’ and ‘gringo’? Interesting, eh? Check out this link to read all about it.

A word of warning: Unless I chicken out or get too busy, I plan to update my version of WordPress to 3.0.1 in the next day or two. Hopefully there will be no glitches. If there are, and my blog disappears or looks wonky, don’t worry – I’ll be back!

The fickle hand of fate determines what goes viral. Photo by Tui Cameron

A few minutes ago, as we were eating dinner, my fiance remarked that, “From what I can tell, the word ‘viral’ is a bigger ‘meme’ than the word, ‘meme.’” I think he has a point! What are your thoughts?

Jelly ass, anyone? photo by Tui Cameron

Company’s on the way, so I am tossing up a quickie post just to stay in the NaBloPoMo game, y’all! Today’s photo is something that caught my eye in the store and made me think, “Now that is something I definitely do not want to get this holiday season.”

I’ll try to do some blog-hopping later on and see what other folks are up to, and answer comments, but right now, a belated Thanksgiving feast is waiting to be prepared…

Espresso in Naples, Italy. Photo by Tui Cameron

I often describe myself as a ‘recovering barista,’ because when you have brewed as many shots of espresso and steamed as many pitchers of milk as I have over the years, it alters you. Y’know how you can spot a former ballerina by her splayed feet? It’s kinda like that, except that the Zen-like discipline of making wonderful espresso leaves mental marks rather than anything physical.

As a result, when I enter a coffeehouse, I can’t help but eavesdrop on the baristas. By ‘eavesdrop’ I mean listening to what they do, not what they say. I can tell by sound whether they are creating tight, velvety foam, or big snorty bubbles. I can hear if they have scalded the milk.

I watch them, too, of course. I can tell if they need to adjust their grind by how quickly it flows out the portafilter, or if they are tamping with the right psi or not. Unless I’m with another coffee fanatic, however, I generally keep these assessments to myself. I don’t want to seem obnoxious!

Barista is an interesting word, with slightly different connotations in the states than in Italy. In Italian, slapping ista onto a word is a nifty way to explain someone’s occupation. For example, camion means truck in Italian. Add ista to camion, and you get the Italian word for trucker: camionista.

So, in Italy, to call yourself a barista merely means that you work in a bar. It doesn’t necessarily imply any great prowess with coffee. In the states, however, a barista is someone who makes espresso – and up in the Pacific Northwest, where I hail from, ‘barista’ implies that the person knows how to make a masterful cup of jo. There are even barista competitions!

Here in Azle, Texas there is no real espresso to be found – aside from what I make here at home with our tiny machine. I could go on, but we’re gearing up for a belated Thanksgiving feast here tomorrow and my to-do list is still mighty long despite a day of to-doing…

I'm also thankful for inflatable aliens, lariats and so much more... Photo by Tui Cameron

Got this Thanksgiving text message today from my pal, Woofmutt:

I’m thankful for text messaging which takes minimal effort yet lets me feel like I’m interacting with people in a meaningful way.

I’ve known him since we were kids and he always been witty and observant. Before deleting his text messages, I generally jot them into my digital journal. Here are a few more that I kept, for instance:

Things Learned From Movies & TV: If you know there’s someone who might want to kill you, never take a bath with a TV or radio nearby.

Watching “Where the Wild Things ARe: Movie cliche: At the top of a high cliff a character looks to see a single rock fall into the sea below.

I’m in Walla Walla, the town so nice they named it Walla Walla instead of Bastardvania.

Getting back to Thanksgiving, here is something I want to know. Why do the Dallas Cowboys call themselves, “America’s football team”? The official tourist slogan for Texas is, “Texas – It’s like a whole other country.” OK, then, Texas. Tell us how unique you are. I get it. But then, you turn around and claim that your football team represents the whole country? C’mon, Texas, which is it? Are you a rugged maverick or everyman USA?

Last year, I celebrated Thanksgiving in England with my step-daughter, her hubby, and his folks. Pumpkin pie was a foreign concept to them until my step-daughter arrived, bearing exotic American recipes and wicked culinary skills.

It is funny how often Americans think Thanksgiving is celebrated around the world. I remember when someone asked my British son-in-law if the English celebrate Thanksgiving. We were just getting to know him, and I felt so embarrassed. He handled it well, though. NYC Caribbean Ragazza recently mentioned on her blog that people often ask her if Thanksgiving is celebrated in Italy. Funny, eh? Maybe if they ran this video as a public service announcement every year it would refresh the public’s collective memory of the true meaning of Thanksgiving  (then again, maybe not.)

Anyway, I am off to eat homemade sweet potato chips and dip. Later, I’ll probably text some loved ones. Happy Thanksgiving to all y’all wherever you may be!

Mallard and Swan paddles boats at Fair Park. Photo by Tui Cameron.

I adore the bird paddle boats at Fair Park in Dallas. They have both swans and mallards, but the swans are best – a delightful blend of elegance and playfulness.

My boyfriend runs a boat shop, and once built a beautiful mahogany boat. If I built a boat, I’d create the ultimate swan paddle boat. Mine would have fold-out wings to shade you from the relentless Texan sun.

Mallard and Swan paddles boats at Fair Park. Photo by Tui Cameron.

If it came down to it, my boyfriend would be happy to help me with such a silly project. He once said, “We don’t have to do anything normal if we don’t want to. We can be happy eccentrics and do what we please.”

Mallard and Swan paddles boats at Fair Park. Photo by Tui Cameron.

I love that he is whimsical, yet practical, and that he understands this about me, as well. Of course, I wouldn’t have moved to Texas if he wanted me to be normal!

I was going to say a lot more here: I was gonna go into more details about my bf’s eccentricities (he slept in a coffin as a teen – a coffin that he built himself) and how he’s a bit of an anomaly here in Texas, and how his business partner and him are like an updated version of “The Odd Couple,” but… I have run out of time for today – argh! – so I will leave you with a fitting quote:

The reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself.

—Rita Mae Brown

What about you? Do you think you are eccentric? What are your quirks?

Free-writing, I get. Pointy boots, not so much. Photo by Tui Cameron

Last night as I drifted to sleep, I began thinking of free-writing, and how Julia Cameron and Natalie Goldberg both promote freewriting to anyone who wants to write well.

Author of the best-selling Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron is known for what she calls,”morning pages.” This is Cameron’s prescription for becoming a better writer, and all that’s required is writing 3 pages in longhand first thing upon waking.

Another notable writing teacher, Natalie Goldberg, author of the best-selling Writing Down the Bones and many other wonderful books on the craft of writing, also promotes free-writing each and every day, and while she calls it, “writing practice,” instead of, “morning pages,” it is the same idea.

Just because morning pages/writing practice is simple, doesn’t mean it’s not profound. Running around a track is not profound, is it? Barring obvious physical limitations, anyone can put one foot in front of another. So the actual act of free-writing is not what makes it helpful. It’s that – like any sport – you need to practice in order to get better.

Somehow, this fact gets overlooked when it comes to writing. No one would expect someone to win a marathon without having spent hours and hours running. Why is it, then, that we often expect people to whip out a wonderful piece of writing without having practiced?

This is why I prefer the term “writing practice,” for free-writing. For one thing, if you call it, “writing practice,” it doesn’t require you to do it at any particular time of day. Secondly, it reminds you that writing, like any discipline (painting, yoga, boxing, fox hunting, curling, running), is a skill you can get better at if you practice. Good writing is dependent upon good writing muscles, which – like any other muscle – need to be flexed every day, or else it atrophies.

Sure, you’ll get the flu, or your talkative neighbor will corral you by the driveway as you try to retreat to your house. Stuff happens. But it’s pretty simple with writing. If you don’t write often, you won’t write well.

I love Julia Cameron and Natalie Goldberg, but here is what made me laugh out loud as I was falling asleep last night. Both of them – Cameron and Goldberg – lived in Taos, New Mexico while having these great epiphanies that led to each of them writing wonderful books about creativity and how to be a better writer.

And – get this – both of them used to look out at Taos Mountain as they did their free-writing. [Insert Twilight Zone theme here.] It’s like Taos Mountain was their muse.

So here I am living in ultra-flat Texas, which left me wondering, and made me giggle in my near-sleep last night: Where’s my mountain, baby?

Me and my pet T Rex. Photo by Larry Snider

According to a survey of more than 2300 pet owners, the kind of animal you own says a lot about you. Snake owners, for instance, are the most likely to earn 6 figure incomes, while bird owners claim the most job satisfaction. Check out the article in its entirety over at The Daily Brainstorm.

I once rented a house from a guy who was one of the founders of Century 21 real estate. I assumed from his background that he would be a stickler for paperwork. Instead, he said that in all his years as a landlord, he did better by trusting his gut feeling after a casual conversation with potential renters. He said he could tell more from a person’s eyes than from any paperwork. He also confided that his favorite type of renters were single women with cats!

I currently own fish, even though – according to the survey – writers are more likely to own reptiles. Of course, I’m not going to rush out and buy a python any time soon (although I wouldn’t mind earning a 6 figure income, either) but I really, really, really want a cat in my life again.

I like what Christine Louise Hohlbaum wrote towards the end of her post:

“Truth be told, animals always go at their God-given pace.
Why shouldn’t we?”

I found that statement quite comforting, actually. My recent struggle with fatigue has made me think a lot about maintaining a healthy pace, keeping balanced and using one’s energy wisely. I still catch myself feeling like I can’t keep up with the speed of life, but I suspect it is an error in my expectations more than anything else.

To read more of Christine Louise Hohlbaum’s thoughts, check out her blog: The Power of Slow.

Do you own a pet? What are your thoughts on the importance/unimportance of human/animal connections?