It's Called Stalling

In rehearsals, dancers will go over a section of a ballet endlessly, repeating the same steps over and over and over again until the ballet master is satisfied with the finished product. To save their legs, dancers will often “mark” a percentage of the run-throughs.

Marking is when a dancer just goes through the motions by walking the steps, counting the beats out with their hands, or not performing the jumps or turns completely. Different dancers mark a piece in different ways, but everyone does it at some point.

The problem with marking is that it can become a habit, and a dancer might think that marking a piece is as good as dancing a piece. It’s not. Nothing can take the place of dancing a number as hard and as fast as its supposed to be danced. Nothing.

While marking has its place, marking can never be dancing.

The same is true of writing. You can talk about writing. You can read about writing. You can dream of writing, but nothing can take the place of writing—tens of thousands of words written as hard and as fast as you can write them, full out and breathing hard. Writing that never stops, not in the daytime, not in the nighttime, not even in the dream times.

In dancing, it’s called marking. In writing, it’s called stalling.    

Sherwood Zern's Ten Tips For Hobby Farmers

Sweat dripped off the end of my husband’s nose as he filled in the hole. Water gushed up from the ground. There’d been a lot of rain. A smear of muck marred his cheek.

“Don’t be discouraged,” I said.

“I’m not,” he muttered, “but while I was digging I thought up a list of tips for hobby farmers.”

“Okay. Let me hear it.”

He began:

1. Buy the best livestock available.
2. Buy the best feed you can afford.
3. Construct shelters and jungle gyms for the animal’s health and wellbeing.
4. Know your vet well enough to invite them to Sunday dinner.
5. Purchase the best shovel you can.
6. Have the backhoe man on speed dial.
7. Don’t buy property with any trees. Roots are right out when you’re digging holes.
8. Keep your shovel handy.
9. Keep your backhoe man handy.
10. Dig deep.

“Or you can buy a shovel, dig a hole, throw money into hole, cover hole, and you’ll be left with a good shovel and a close relationship with your backhoe man.”

Not discouraged much? 

I would add to that list this advice. Don’t look at your neighbor’s goats—that live in the wild, give birth in the wild, nurse their babies in the wild, and haven’t seen a vet in their lifetimes. 

Here’s to farmers and farming everywhere. Good luck and God bless. 

Linda (Heartbreak Hotel) Zern 

STICKS AND STONES

Recently, I have responded to a couple of political comments, posts, thoughts, memes, and flaming crosses on Facebook. I’ve learned something. Diversity killed unity.

And now we (I mean society, not you personally, unless it is you personally) can’t agree on anything—not even what constitutes name-calling. What’s name calling in your village might be terms of endearment in mine. 

Diversity. Live with it.

Name-calling is a time-honored tactic in many villages used to cause spluttering, spitting, and/or high blood pressure. It’s the lowest common denominator in the argument pointy triangle. 

Name-calling is a word or condition that can be inserted into the sentence, “You are a (fill in the blank) as in: You are a brat, rat, gnat, or you are silly, slippery, stupefying. 

The worst name-calling offenders, in my experience, are those that claim the moral high ground like folks who say, “I believe in unconditional love . . . you brat, rat, gnat.” Unconditional love is simply love that has no conditions. Examples of this kind of love without rules, conditions, or standards include:

You just smashed me in the face with an axe; I love you anyway.

You just rolled me in cornflakes and poured motor oil all over me. I love you regardless.

She just lied, cheated, stole, betrayed, and blew her family to tiny, bloody emotional bits. I’m in love.

Sure. Sure. It’s all about love but LIKE, that’s a different story. I love you fine, but I wouldn’t recommend you for the job of dog walker, because I don’t LIKE the way you tie cat’s tails together and sling them over a clothesline so they can fight. 

You are a creep. This is name-calling—also judging. I love you fine, but you’re a creep. 

Names are descriptive. Names highlight diversity (always a good thing.) Names help us find birds with feathers like our own. Names keep us honest.

So, in the spirit of do as I do, I shall now call myself a name; I am a FLIBBERTIGIBBET. 

A flibbertigibbet is a Middle English word referring to a flighty or whimsical person, usually a young woman. In modern use, it is used as a slang term, especially in Yorkshire, for a gossipy or overly talkative person.

Cool. I own it, and I’m calling for all flibbertigibbets to unite, unless they’re too busy being flighty. 

And unless you are an insecure, flakey flibbertigibbet—who needs constant re-enforcement and self-esteem stroking—you understand that names truly cannot hurt you . . . not like sticks and stones.

Get a clue, maroon.

Linda (Short Stuff) Zern