No. Way.

[Amazing find, Cute Overload!]

Reading Globally

I mapped my armchair travels after reviewing the settings of some geographically memorable books I’ve read.

It seems backward, but I've physically visited almost twice as many U.S. states as I’ve visited through books -- 43 in body versus 24 in mind. (Maybe it's a dearth of books set in certain states ... "they say" it takes extraordinary content to overcome a flyover-country setting.)

My international travels are more parallel in number, although the literary locales have been markedly more exotic.

I’m shocked by the amount of white space on these maps! To remedy that, I'd love to hear recommendations for books (fiction or nonfiction) that explore the planet.

[Then go map some international or stateside
aspect of your own life.]

Many-Me

While it's unlikely you've experienced a doppelganger (a physical double of yourself), it's quite likely you have numerous googlegangers -- virtual doubles -- people who share your name and whose hits are mixed with yours on the result pages of a Google search.

I don’t have a googleganger; my name is unique. But my maiden name gets a few pages of hits, among them a firefighter, realtor, yachtswoman and psychologist. Until I noticed that one had been a guest on Sally Jessy Raphael’s TV show, I’d forgotten that I was once an on-air caller to her 1980s radio program.

That maiden self did come close to having a doppelganger. I walked into my small-town high school as a freshman and discovered that my 'til-then unique first name was already in use by an outgoing, assertive senior. (Three years older + popular = very intimidating.) Unbelievably, she later married a man with my surname!

Who are your doubles? What details about them spark energy?

It Takes a Thief

From the Chicago Tribune:

“[A national pharmacy chain agreed] to pay $36.7 million to settle charges it routinely overbilled Medicaid for a popular generic antacid drug, cheating federal and state governments out of millions of dollars over more than six years. Prosecutors say the pharmacy chain illegally substituted a more expensive capsule form of the drug instead of the prescribed tablets to increase its Medicaid reimbursement.”

A similar case, involving another pharmacy corporation, was settled for $49.5 million in 2006. The cases have in common a pharmacist who noticed something amiss, contacted an attorney and the rest is history.

All hail this crusading whistle-blower -- an unadulterated hero!

Hmm, not so fast.

Consider that the law provides him with a share of the settlements -- in his case, more than $10 million. Consider that he himself was arrested in 1992 as part of another Medicaid-fraud scheme, the FBI’s Operation Goldpill. He was sentenced with a fine, probation, and temporary suspension of his pharmacist license.

In a novel, would readers still view his whistle-blowing as altruistic? Or as greed? Or as paying a debt to society? It’s a tough call … it’s known as complex characterization.

Miracle Money

The well-dressed twentysomething ahead of me in line at Starbucks talked on his cell phone while the cashier poured his grande coffee. When she set the cup in front of him and announced the price, he held out a crisp, double-folded bill.

She didn’t take it, but asked, “Do you have something smaller?”

He shook his head.

“Do you have a debit or credit card?”

He shook his head.

She held up her hands in surrender. “It’s on us.”

WTF?

It’s a great scam: make the rounds of Starbucks locations with a $50 bill that never gets used because the cafes won’t accept currency larger than $20. Another customer this morning had offered a $100 bill. Note to Starbucks: Complete the financial transaction, then pour the coffee!

Note to creatives: Look deep … find these customers' consciences. What is a positive explanation for them expecting (heck, for wanting the bulkiness of) $98 in change?

Equinox

Astrapo’s comment yesterday about extreme latitudes is perfect timing for today’s astronomic equinox.

Today's pattern of sunlight (top image, as of a few minutes ago) is centered onto the earth and is moderate even at the extremes of the north and south poles. But just two months ago (below, at about the same time of day), it was near-continuous dark at the northernmost latitudes; it was dark even longer during the December solstice. Things get squirrelly when diurnality and nocturnality collide … so get ready, southern hemisphere!

You can keep an eye on the daily and seasonal sunlight patterns through the blogroll link to the World Sunlight Map.

Zoned Out

Presently, the earth is divided into time zones that organize the day similarly around the planet: dawn arrives in the early morning hours and nightfall comes toward the end of the 24-hour cycle.

But what if there were no zones -- what if time were constant around the world? Which location might evolve as the authority that dictates how the clock is set? And what might it be like to live halfway around the world from there -- to function where daylight and the clock are inversely correlated?

Records Keeper

You've heard about records getting mixed up.

But New Scientist magazine reports:

The average number of people wrongly declared dead every day in the US as a result of data input errors by Social Security staff: 35.

In the realm of 10,000 per year, suppose they're not erroneous mix-ups. Who is the clerk and what's in common among the people s/he's targeting?

Careful

What kind of person goes to this trouble -- to destroy data on a technology that's already dead?

Or maybe the question is: What kind of data needed such absolute destruction?

Moving On

I've been recently mulling some ironic timing: a friend's husband who died on Valentine's Day, another friend's mom who died on Mother's Day.

But this week, a coincidence seems a little sweeter: a friend's 97-year-old stepfather, a life-long farmer, passed away on March 1 -- farmers' traditional moving day.

Such a Girl

I hate road salt. Hate following snowplows that spray it directly at my car's undercarriage. Hate that it turns my parkway lawn into brown florist's moss. My husband and I are more likely to risk a fall than sprinkle salt on our sidewalk.

Then again, I didn't know it came in pretty colors...

Six-Word Memoirs

It’s said that Ernest Hemingway wrote the shortest story ever:
For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

In 2006, the storytelling website SMITH Magazine challenged people to do the same with memoir. Now, editors Rachel Fershleiser and Larry Smith have compiled nearly a thousand of the best into Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure.

While some resemble epitaphs (It was worth it, I think - by Annette Laitinen), most, like Hemingway, say enough in six words to evoke a full narrative arc (After Harvard, had baby with crackhead - Robin Templeton).

There are stories of vulnerability:
I was born some assembly required. - Eric Jordan
Quiet guy; please pay closer attention. - Jonathan Lesser
Can my words have footnotes, please? - Amy Harbottle

…and misfit:
Right brain working left brain job. - Dave Terry
Type A personality. Type B capability. - Keith Lang
Fact-checker by day, liar by night. - Andy Young

…of humor and joy:
Four children in four decades; whew! - Loretta Serrano
The day just kept getting better. - Jeff Cranmer

…and heat:
Brought it to a boil, often. - Mario Batali
Asked to quiet down; spoke louder. - Wendy Lee
Asked and answered, asshole, next question. - Joe Lockhart

…and cleverness:
Palindromic novels fall apart halfway through. - Chuck Clark
EDITOR. Get it? - Kate Hamill

The compilation is not only entertaining, it's inspiring. You can’t help but consider your own memoir, even while you mind-write some of these into full-length fiction.

Very Wet Snow

What I learned while shoveling snow today:

1) trying to clear a sidewalk of standing water is as futile as trying to shovel a lake empty;

2) all it takes to sound like Monica Seles is to lift a shovel-full of this stuff; and

3) when you hear the rumble of a 10-ton snowplow barreling down the road toward you (and spraying a 20-foot arc of slush across lawns, sidewalks, and sides of houses along its way) ... the driver will slow appreciably if he sees you freak, throw down your shovel, and run for cover.

Call to Order

Go ahead -- anthropomorphize.

Take the dysfunctional drama that lies beneath the calm facade of meetings at your workplace...

...and bring it to life in this group of bird-brains.

Younger, Prettier?

Once upon a time, there was a settled, committed couple. They’d been together for years and had twice become Mom and Dad to sets of triplets (triplets!). Incredibly, they seemed to be on their way to another set again this spring.

Then a younger woman showed up at their house and started hanging around. Mom alternately tried to befriend her and get rid of her, turning at times to vicious behavior. Then, suddenly, it was Mom who was gone -- out of the house and away from the young ones, who immediately regressed. Next thing anyone knew, there’s Dad and the new girl, taking up together.

I hear your response: "Such a cliched story! Give me something surprising."

Well, would it help to remove the personification -- to realize that the story’s characters aren’t human but rather American bald eagles? Their unfolding drama surprised everyone who watched the Norfolk Botanical Garden’s Eagle Nest-cam over the past week.

Scientists are already hoping for new eggs from the new couple this season. I’m a scientist too, but I need a little more time to remove the last traces of personification before I wish those birds my best.

Delivery

I hear an engine idling on the street below. I hate that our house seems to be the perfect spot to pull over to the side of the road and take care of business. Sales reps stop to look through big binders on the passenger seat. Cautious moms make cell-phone calls.

When the low rumble continues, I look out a window. Ack! -- a FedEx truck. They require a signature for delivery and here I’ve been, working upstairs, out of range of the doorbell. I race downstairs, hoping to get the driver’s attention before he leaves the arrange-for-redelivery slip and zooms off. I throw open the front door.

The truck is still there! But there’s no package, no slip; I check again. Then I stand at the door and notice the driver’s seat is empty. He must still be in the back, looking for my package. He appears at the door of his truck, a Gatorade bottle in hand. He leans out the door and tosses a few ounces of pale liquid across my parkway.

Oh.

Ewww.

That pisses me off and I stand behind the storm door, hands on hips and scowling, hoping he’ll notice my disapproval before he drives off. Instead, he hops out of the truck and carries a large box up my sidewalk.

I open the door. “Thanks,” I say neutrally.

“You are so welcome!” he says, and he winks, and I let him win me over.

Prompt Yourself #3

I’ve collected writing prompts by flipping through TV channels, but today’s come from my answers to someone’s query: What book titles are complete sentences?

Consider the titles below as a dialogue. The “hard work” -- crafting the words -- is done! Now just play with transitions until the conversation flows…

A Complaint is a Gift
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
Are Your Lights On?
Does Anything Eat Wasps?
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim
I Could Tell You Stories
I Feel Bad About My Neck
I Like You
I Shouldn’t Even Be Doing This
Me Talk Pretty One Day
Middle School is Worse Than Meatloaf
No One Belongs Here More Than You
Ron Carlson Writes a Story
Something Happened
The Devil Wears Prada
There Are No Children Here
This is Your Brain on Music
We Are All Welcome Here
What Einstein Told His Cook
When You Eat at the Refrigerator, Pull up a Chair
You Are a Dog
You’re Lucky You’re Funny

Lesson Learned

I studied Spanish for two years back in high school, and remember the exhilarating moment when I caught myself thinking in Spanish.

I've studied writing for longer than that now, but felt the same exhilaration this afternoon when I noticed that the snow was sticking like whipped marshmallow to the east side of everything.

Oh, Right...

... You need to vent the potatoes before you bake them.

What caution did you ignore and then things blew up?

They're Back!

American bald eagles are headed back into parenting mode at the Norfolk Botanical Garden!

Since their three chicks fledged last summer, this pair has built a new nest in a different tree, and spent January courting and mating.

The Norfolk Botanical Garden has relocated its terrific eagle nest-cam (linked on my blogroll), and upgraded it with night-vision capabilities to provide 24/7 streaming video of the nest.

Cross your fingers for egg-laying in early February.