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AMY SMITH LINTON

Caption Contest: No Wonder, Woman.

9/27/2017

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When the favored daughter of Zeus offers to jostle you about at a high rate of speed, should you refuse? 
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Does this Diana seem entirely trustworthy? Would she work at the State Fair if everything was, you know –– cool with her? She scares the bejeebers out of me.

Still, in the spirit of competition and fun, write a funny caption in the comments below and a lucky winner will receive a surprising trinket in the mail as a prize. Or possibly a bar of homemade soap. Good luck!
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Birdwatching: Who IS that?

9/19/2017

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These little birds show up at every bird-feeder I've ever loaded, north and south. And they've baffled me, I should be ashamed to admit, more than once.

​Flipping through the book, muttering: scarlet-headed seed-snatcher, rosy-knobbed chirper, raspberry-flavored song sparrow...Then, there it is, again, House Finch.  
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House Finch. Huh. Pretty pink houses, maybe. 

​But okay, House Finch.
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Musical Selection: Storytelling Songs

9/15/2017

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It surprises me when someone says, "Oh, I don't know the words. I just listen to the music."
Words being important to me, yes, but still, how sad to miss the lyrical turns, the clever wordplay, the telegraphic details.  

Sheryl Crow says, "He says his name is William, but I'm sure it's Bill or Billy or Mack or Buddy, and he's plain ugly to me."  She's showing us what it is to see through the ploys of a barfly trying to get the girl's attention.

So when Ms. Crow goes on to announce that all she wants to do is have some fun, we can see it's not so easy –– even while drinking beer at noon in a bar that faces a car wash.
Of course, maybe the words and story is what appeals to me. They are kind of my things, after all.

Like this song from Bree Sharp.

Granted, it's a ballad, which would lead anyone to expect a narrative, but she paints a noir, Bonnie-and-Clyde picture of the end of a spree. 
But why oh why does Lipton Iced Tea snip a bit of Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweat's SOB in their television ad campaign?

​Yes, the hand-clap is catchy, but there's a jarring  cognitive dissonance when one pairs this particular song with a hearty recommendation for something to drink. 

Someone at the ad agency must have had a sense of humor.

(Says she, making up a story.)  
PS: And on the other hand, we have songs like Louie Louie. 

The words are so indistinguishable that you can put whatever comes to mind into those slurred lines, and all you are left with as a listener is a passionate understanding for the need to leave. 
I know it's supposed to be a sea-shanty, but honestly it could just as easily be a call to take up needlepoint or remove potatoes from the stove. Wooah, baby, me gotta go.
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The Would-Be Farm: It's All Re-Runs on Farm TV

9/7/2017

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Beach life. I worked as the first mate on a small passenger ferry* that shuttled tourists from Pass-a-Grille Beach across a short stretch of salt water to an uninhabited barrier island called Shell Key.

​If there were customers, we'd also take them on a sunset cruise. 

It was a great gig. My sister and I job-shared. We rendered tourists happy by the application of two-hour doses of undeveloped beach and surf. They got to see the real Florida. Sometimes they tipped.

Shell Key Shuttle Pass-A-Grill
(*The Shell Key Shuttle is still in biz, but under new management.) ​
The boss, Captain Alva, was perhaps the most mature and sensible adult male I'd known up till then.   He offered positive, actionable advice when asked and took joy in the highlights of the day. Still does.

Inevitably, after a sunset cruise, the friendly fishing folk hanging around Merry Pier would ask how the sunset had been.

​Because I love to get the laugh, I usually answered with something flip, deadpanned for shock value: "Aw, you know –– same old same old. It was a re-run. Saw it last week."
At the Would-Be Farm, we get a lot of that re-run stuff.

The fire-pit doing its thing, for instance. A bonfire doesn't seem to get old.

Even if we don't have any magic on hand, there's a lot of material for rapid oxidation. Brush transformed to dust. Heat and light. Sticks in the fire, sparks in the sky.

The night-time music is on repeat, too. Between the maniacal Whip-poor-wills and the spring peepers, it's something to have a bit of peace.  Not to mention, though I am, the canids.

Coyotes serenade us most nights. We call it the chorus of the damned.

​We try to pick out the individual voices in the quavering-howling-yapping-yipping wall of sound. In late summer, the pups join in with typically youthful enthusiasm.

The closest human sound might be atonal music by way of a middle-school band tuning up. An example? Sure, she typed, grinning evilly.

Check this Messiaen YouTube clip. At your own risk, by the by: Despite everything, I think I'm getting addicted to it. 
​We often end the sunlit day at the beaver pond.

We put a two-seater deer stand up a pine tree so we can get above some of the mosquitoes and see beyond the fringe of cattails that surrounds the pond.

The beavers –– true to stereotype –– clock in at dusk and work their fannies off maintaining the mud dams. They are reliable as clockwork, chugging through the water like mammalian tugboats.
With the right show, we can watch re-runs –– one most devoutly hopes –– for years. 
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15 Amazing Listicles That Will Completely Change The Way...Whatever.

9/1/2017

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Even if you didn't know the name –– a combination of "article" and "list" –– you've probably clicked through one of these short articles.  They promise valuable content in a compact package, which seems ideal.
But then you go to read it, and suddenly, it's not so ideal.

After all, it's the internet, so when you are prompted to click...and click...and click...and click –– understand that the listicle is less about providing information to you than it is about harvesting your attention for advertising pennies.

I know, no duh, but still, I worked in journalism for years. I write for a living, I edit the crap out of stuff, and I STILL feel drawn to the formula. 
Formula? Take an integer + an over-the-top modifier and noun + a promise and Bob's your uncle. Like this:

27 Times Bacon Has Changed the Course of Modern History (Number 3 Will Make You Swear Off Eating in Restaurants!)

via GIPHY

34 High-Def Images of Dust Mites That Will Haunt You Forever


45 Amazing Hacks To Transform Common Household Products Into Creative Table-toppers

It's kind of addicting, actually, once you get going:

35 Things You Absolutely Need to Know about Roqueford Cheese

​19 Pathetic Pick-Up Lines That Make Us Fear for the Future of Procreation...which links to 23 Most Ruthless Tinder Snaps


​18 Shockingly Images of Celebrities Doing Housework –– You'll Never Guess Who Doesn't Sort His Laundry!

37 Ridiculously Simple Ways to Avoid Political Discussions Over the Holidays –– or any other time (#13 is Genius!)


Kind of addicting? Cripes. Must. Quit. Thinking. This. Way.

7 Horrifying Ways Your Creativity Leads You Astray
​

via GIPHY

The numbers alone make me stop and think. I consider the cabalistic weight of them: are they prime numbers? is it whenever the data ran out? 

And I wonder -– is it better to have
17 of the Most Adorable Hedgehog Videos
or 13 of the Most Adorable Hedgehog Videos?
Trick question: There are not EVER enough adorable hedgehog videos in the world. 
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