Places to Visit: Nervous Nellie's

As mentioned last week, yesterday was National Camera Day, so I'm sharing some photos this morning. However, much more important that some amateur photography done by yours truly, I'm sharing a truly awesome place that you should check out if ever you have the chance.

It's called Nervous Nellie's Jams & Jellies.

Recently, I had the chance to visit Deer Isle, Maine, located just off the Blue Hill Peninsula in Penobscot Bay. The weather was absolutely beautiful, making every view look like a postcard. But I'm pretty sure that even in a total downpour it would have been gorgeous.

I was lucky enough to stop by during the celebration of the 75th anniversary of the bridge that connects the island to the mainland. Walking across the bridge was a lot of fun, not to mention getting to dress up like a lobsterman.

But the real awesome began afterward, when my truly spectacular hosts took me away from the bustling crowds for some scones and jam. Really delicious scones and jam (my favorite was the cherry peach). Honestly, if that was all Nervous Nellie's had to offer, the stop still would have been an epic win, but thanks to the artwork of Peter Beerits, this place is definitely being added to my top ten list of favorite travel discoveries.

Beerits has created a sculpture village, Nellieville, through which I found it impossible to walk without being inspired to create stories for the all the different "people" I saw.

Was tempted to ask if they'd deal me in a hand. 

Despite that rather unsavory fellow in the bottom right corner.

Inspired by the Delta and really made me want to dance.

Not only do I think this establishment would always carry the necessities,

I feel confident that it should be the first stop of anyone looking

to get the latest gossip in Nellieville.

Found witches in the neighboring forest 

(not to mention a full medieval court).

The above confirmation that this town accepts the practice

of magic had me asking this lovely couple if I could move in.

Sadly for me, there appears to be quite a waiting list.

So, if you find yourself meandering up and down Maine's coast, make your way here and enjoy the feeling of inspiration. And don't forget to eat some jam. I won't got so far as to try to sway you on which jams. I trust you to make your own jam-based decisions.

But cherry peach was the best.

I Believe

I never stopped believing in Santa Claus.

Sure, I heard the same things most kids do on the playground. How it’s impossible. There’s no way he could get around the world, to all those houses in one night. It just can’t happen. And when I asked why, I was treated to all manner of logical explanations. All of them made sense. Every one of them was a completely believable reason as to why someone could not possibly do the things that Santa supposedly did.

Not one of them made a dent in my belief.

To me, what was always missing from these explanations was magic.

There are people, particularly some of those kids on the playground, who would roll their eyes at the thought of magic. Maybe these people feel too grown up to indulge in such childish thinking. Maybe they’re frustrated that regardless of how calmly and rationally they argue their point, there are some who they will never convince (namely me). This is not to say that I don’t appreciate their line of thought. Logic is wonderful and something I think should be utilized daily, but I’ve never been of the opinion that it should be the sole perspective from which any issue should be viewed.

After all, doesn’t everything start as fantasy?

We are members of a species that has made absolutely remarkable strides in the sciences. Over the years things have been proven that previously were thought to be declarations of insanity.

The earth is not flat, nor does it occupy the center of the universe.

“Atom” comes from a Greek word that means “indivisible.” Turns out it can be divided.

Humans are born sans wings, but countless take to the sky every day.

We live in a world that if described to our ancestors would have been considered magical and, most likely, insane. Why? Because of men and women who believed in the possibility of their fantasies.

As Albert Einstein put it, “When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than any talent for abstract, positive thinking.”

So, in honor of the people who have gotten us this far and the people who will one day make it possible for me to drop by grandkid off at Quidditch practice in my flying car, I will never stop believing in possibility of those things that defy logical explanation. After all, if there’s one thing we’ve historically proven, it’s that we’re never as smart as we think we are.

Now, I’m not here to convince you to believe in Santa (that can be left to Francis Pharcellus Church), but I do strongly encourage the belief in possibilities. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if we turn out to be wrong, the fun of life is keeping an open mind while we have the chance.

If you will excuse me, I have to go mail out my letter to the man in red. Really want to know what those elves have been up to.

Tonight’s Christmas Viewing:

• “Little Minnesota” (How I Met Your Mother)
• “The One Where Rachel Quits” (Friends)
• The Christmas Card
• The Shop Around the Corner

Gang's All Here

I’m looking forward to seeing Rise of the Guardians (hopefully soon) for a number of reasons.

One, I like it when established characters cross over into each other worlds. It’s just interesting to see characters from one story interact with characters from another. (And who didn’t smile when Detective John Munch stepped in to help out in the investigation against the Bluths?)

And while it wouldn’t bother me if Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t the best friends ever, I would be a little surprised if their paths never crossed. My guess is that there are only so many people in the bringing-holiday-treats-without-anyone-seeing-them line of work. There’s got to at least be a contact list. You know, Santa finds out (the hard way) that one house has a new, rather unfriendly dog – he shoots out a quick email: 

Subject: Dog Alert

Date: 25 December 2011 1:06am

From: JollyYoungElf@northpole.com

To: EB@springtime.com; fa!rydust47@weefolk.com; Mr.S@sleepies.com

The Piedmont family in Galena, Illinois have a new pup. Not an easy-going sort. Seems particularly excitable when it comes to the color red. Plan your trips to that house accordingly. Might I suggest body armor? Or at least some Snausages?

Best,

Nick

            Subject: RE: Dog Alert

            Date 25 December 2011 2:10am

            From: Mr.S@sleepies.com

            To: JollyYoungElf@northpole.com; EB@springtime.com; fa!rydust47@weefolk.com

I’m so sorry about that. I tried to get a message out earlier, but service out here is quite poor. I met up with the canine in question when I was trying to get the Piedmont children asleep. Point of interest, in addition to red, he really doesn’t care for dust.

~ San

Really, that they would run in the same circle seems only logical. So, to see a movie them about fighting evil? That’s pretty much all the things I love wrapped up into one bundle of animation.

And then, of course, there’s the fact that it reminds me of one of my favorite childhood holiday books, Christmas Always… by Peter Catalanotto. (A book that is currently sitting on my living room table.)

Catalanotto’s story does not have the gang fighting evil and the Easter Bunny makes no appearance. Rather the Sandman, Jack Frost and the Tooth Fairy are all working to get young Katie to go to sleep before Santa’s arrival.

This book was one of the first things to get me thinking about connections between the more magical figures in my life and is one I re-read every year. And every year it maintains it's awesome-ness.

Now, I get the sense that in Rise of the Guardians the problem at hand is going to be a tiny bit bigger than getting one little girl off to dreamland, but I’m sure the team is up to the challenge. And, I’d also like to point out that if any of these legends are ever looking for an intern to paint eggs, catalogue bicuspids, fill sandbags – whatever – I’m your girl. Hell, I’ll even make the list and check it thrice.

The Real Magic

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who was truly enamored of fairy tales, but kept finding little things about the stories she was reading or watching that nagged at her.

Why didn’t Cinderella’s glass slipper change into a ratty old shoe at midnight when everything else did? Then, at least, it would have narrowed down the pool of subjects the prince had to go door-to-door to.

Why were the fathers all so crappy? The love of a father for his child was often mentioned, but where were the actions to back up these claims? The fathers of Cinderella and Snow White apparently loved their daughters whole heartedly, but were too dumb not to notice that they were marrying horrific, abusive women. Hansel and Gretel’s dad was said to love them tons too, but ditched them in the forest twice. And only took them back at the end because his wife died. Father of the year, right there. The miller basically sold his daughter to the King under false pretense, leading to that whole Rumplestiltskin fiasco. But at least he never really pretended to be overly enamored with his offspring. So….that’s something, maybe?

Why were all the stepmothers evil? I knew a number of stepmothers, all of them were lovely people. So, it never made sense to me that every single stepmother in fairy tales wanted nothing more than to kill off all the children. I believed in all sorts of magic and mayhem, but this strange stereotype was too unrealistic for my young mind.

The questions went on and on. Probably because I kept going back to all the stories over and over. I loved them and they drove me crazy.

I’m not the only one who has cast a skeptical eye toward these classic tales, of course. There are tons of different takes out there. My father told me stories where Ariel stayed a mermaid. In high school, I was introduced to Into the Woods and Shrek, both of which, I was happy to see showed that happy endings aren’t always what we expect them to be. When I was in college, one particularly awesome roommate used to read stories to me from James Finn Garner’s Politically Correct Bedtime Stories. (Nothing speeds you off to sleep like Red Riding Hood’s stirring speech to the sexist, speciesist woodsman.) And now, I get to regularly enjoy blogs and tumblrs like “Introvert Fairy Tales” and “fairy tales for twentysomethings.”

All of these things have been on my mind a lot lately, as I work on a new story. And I think I’ve figured out what the real magic of fairy tales is – They can be whatever we want them to be.

So what are your favorites, be they traditional or reimaginings?

My introduction to magic...

The books I read when I was a kid have had the most lasting impact on my life. I think this can be said for many people. I know that it can be said for Roald Dahl’s Matilda. After all, he wrote:

So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.

This is probably why Matilda was my favorite Dahl book growing up. Matilda and I shared similar views on reading. Well, that, plus she could move things with her mind. A power that I intensely wanted as a child (and, to be honest, continue to as an adult).

I enjoyed all of Dahl’s books. I never looked at peach pits the same way again, always interested to find out if there was a party going on inside. I often sent thoughts of thanks to the BFG after a particularly good dream. I checked all my chocolate bars for golden tickets, just in case there was a contest going on that hadn’t been publicized. And looking back on it, though I held no love for Veruca, her experience in the Nut Room may have been what first got me looking at squirrels a little bit more carefully.

Still, it was bookish Matilda who won my heart. I didn’t even mind that at the end she was no longer telekinetic, as she was using more of her brain for school related activities. Because I knew, deep in my heart, that if she ever really needed it again, her power would return. In the mean time, being smart and happy was more than enough.

I think it was in The Minpins that Dahl wrote:

And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

Well thanks to Dahl and other authors of his ilk, I’ve always believed.

What about you?

Laughing Is Always Worth It (Though It Sometimes Makes You Look Like A Jerk)

There has never been a day in my life when I haven’t laughed.

Even on the really bad days, there’s always been something humorous to find. And I enjoy the search as much as I do the destination.

And, as I love the laughing, it doesn’t really take that much to get me going. Great jokes, cheesy puns, offhand comments…they all tickle me. I’ve mentioned that I’m one of those (I refuse to believe I’m the only one) weird people who occasionally likes to hear the dialogue of a book out loud. On more than one occasion, a line from a book has struck me as so amusing that I can’t actually say it because every time I try, I laugh too hard.

Then there are people in my life who I think of as carriers. They’re the bearers of contagious laughter. The people who, for whatever reason, if they’re laughing, I’m laughing. I don’t even have to be in on the joke. They’re just downright infectious.

All this laughter is fantastic, but it does come with a very slight downside. Given my proclivities, I often find myself laughing at inopportune times.

When Roomie's annoyed by traffic and cursing at other cars and occasionally herself. When a coworker inadvertently tells another that he needs to "strap on a pair," and then after a inordinately long pause, "of snowshoes." When my sister tells me that the woman we're listening to speak bears a striking resemblance to a turtle.

The list could go on for days. And I would laugh every time I read it. 

And then there is the situation that makes me look like the biggest jerkboat. You know how babies can really get going when they cry? I mean, it’s impressive. I don’t have that kind of lung capacity. After about a minute and a half, I’d probably just fall asleep. But they can go on for an extended period of time, just wailing. And I'm not talking about when they actually fall and hurt themselves. But just when they're in a crying mood. Well, if I’m holding a child who decides it’s time to let loose, I can go about 45 seconds before I start laughing as hard as he’s crying. And let me tell you, you know who looks like an ass? Someone who’s laughing at a crying baby.

It’s not that I’m not sympathetic to whatever baby crisis the kid is having. I’ll do everything I can to try and figure out what the issue is and fix it. Honest. I’ll just laugh while I do. I think it has something to do with knowing that if the child wants to cry for the next hour, nothing I can do is really going to make a difference. So, I can despair over that fact or I can laugh and think about how when this kid grows up I can tell him all about the time he cried for three hours (my parents have dozens of these gems). And, when given the choice, I will always opt for laughter over despair.

So, while I’m sure if people see me, they think, Look at that creep. Laughing at the crying baby. I’m going to go over and kick her in the knee. Make her cry and then laugh. See how she likes it, occasionally this inappropriate laughter has positive results. This doesn’t work all the time. It doesn’t even work a lot of the time. (I think maybe it worked once.) But in a certain miraculous instance, I found myself pacing with a crying baby who suddenly became distracted by my laughter. Looking up at me with that scrunched little face, all tear streaked, the child just stared for a moment, as if unsure how to handle such a bizarre reaction. And then as if all the stars had aligned perfectly, like unicorn-dancing-on-a-rainbow-of-dreams-and-skittles perfectly, the baby started laughing with me.

So, while I will try my best not to laugh when I shouldn’t, I’m not going to feel too horrible when I inevitably fail. Because sometimes magic comes out of such mistakes.

And how about the rest of you? What makes you laugh (whether or not you should)?

Gonna start looking for a purple blur

On our route to work, Roomie and I pass many bus stops, but only one is really worth mentioning.

This particular stop consists only of a sign, no overhang, no bench. Just a pike in the ground. There is also no sidewalk. It's just stuck in the curb. The only way to avoid standing in the street if you’re waiting there is to wedge yourself into the overgrown bushes that have taken over that little curb. And as this is situated on the side of a six lane road, people seem to prefer to take their chances in the bushes than in the street.

This leads to another question: How do people get to this stop? There only seem to be two possibilities. The first is playing a human game of Frogger. The second is cutting through the golf course, hopping the fence, and fighting past the bramble to arrive at your public transportation pick-up spot of choice. Neither of these seem ideal.

And then we come to the final mystery. Roomie and I are not entirely consistent with what time we drive past this landmark (mostly due to my inability to process five alarms and the length of time it takes me to notice that the Roomie is pounding on my door). So, we’ve driven past it at a variety of times. While there is often someone waiting patiently at that nearly hidden pike, we have never once seen a bus on that street.

All of this evidence has led us to only one conclusion. This is where the Knight Bus picks up local wizards. That’s why we’ve never seen it and that’s why all these folks can get to that precarious location.

It’s really the only thing that makes sense, though I’ll admit to feeling a little hurt that there are wizards in the area and I’m not one of them. But who knows, right? Maybe I’m just a late bloomer and one day soon I’m just going to start apparating all over the place.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s gonna go.

World of Possibilities

I have always believed in the possibility of magic.

Key word being “possibility.” I certainly have no proof that magic exists, but I also have never been offered compelling enough evidence to dismiss it out of hand.

So many of the books I read as a child contained beings of magic. While I never had any issue differentiating between fact and fiction, I did wonder where these ideas came from. In more recent stories, I could assume that the authors had been informed by tales of magic that had come before them. But where had the magical discussion started? That, I didn’t know.

In second grade, my class did a project where we wrote and illustrated books about whatever struck our fancy. Once we had completed our masterpieces, the class moms would laminate and staple them. In that year, I wrote a record-breaking eighteen stories (that’s right, be impressed). Some of them were straight fact, some of them had some fantastical elements. One, in particular, that I remember, was all about a haunted graveyard.

I had never been to a haunted graveyard, but it seemed like a cool idea to write about. So, at the age of seven, I understood that authors could write about whatever they wanted and it didn’t have to be real. But I also knew that every single one of my stories took something from my real life. None of them were completely devoid of my actual experiences. And that got me wondering.

I had written about a haunted graveyard because I had been to a cemetery and read stories about ghosts. The idea did not just appear, utterly unique and fully formed, in my mind. I had a frame of reference. But what about those people who first told stories of magic? What was their frame of reference?

This line of thought planted a seed in my little seven-year-old brain. Maybe they were writing about things they’d seen or heard about from people they knew, like I was. If so, then maybe magic was real then. And if magic was real then, maybe it was still real now.

Sitting at that little desk, armed with my crayons and construction paper, I developed a belief in the possibility of magic that, even now, I can not shake.

I’ve never been willing to sit around and wait for something magical to happen. That takes up too much time and I have things to get done. But, while I’m going about my work, I keep my eyes open. Just in case. ‘Cause the only way I even have a shot at finding out if possibilities can be realities is to continue looking.

Waking to Wonderland

I got my first lead role in a play when I was in sixth grade. I was Alice in the first act of Alice in Wonderland. After the intermission, the girl who was playing second act Alice and I did a mirror bit where we switched places. I don’t know that this would have worked for any other play, but given the bizarre nature of Wonderland, it fit.

It was an extremely fun experience, but I still didn’t come out of it liking Alice in Wonderland any more than I had before. It just wasn’t my story. I could never get invested in the characters. Sure, I wanted Alice to find her way home – the same way I would for anyone – I just didn’t want to have to watch it.

I went with some friends to see the Tim Burton version when it came out a couple years ago. Visually, it was certainly interesting and I liked that there were some twists to the original story, but, overall I still wasn’t all that connected to the characters. I wanted to like them more than I did.

Last night I caught up on the last couple weeks of Once Upon A Time. The first episode up was “Hat Trick,” with the fairy tale flashes starring none other than the Mad Hatter. And for the first time in a long time, Wonderland held some interest for me.

One of my favorite aspects of the show are all the character backgrounds it provides. I love seeing how these well-known characters got to where they were when we initially met them in the original stories. Because, as great as fairy tales are, the classics are generally lacking in back story. Stepmothers are apparently prone to evil. Okay. But, why? Was their malevolence born or made? And if the fathers of these fairy tale princesses are such noble men, what prompted them to marry these wicked individuals?

Do fairies have lives outside of helping all those mere mortals or are they basically just sitting around, waiting for the phone to ring?

Was the hatter always mad or was he driven to it?

The show tries to provide some of the answers. And, for that reason above all others, I love it.

Watching “Hat Trick,” it finally made sense to me why the hatter was such a looney tune. More than that, it made me root for him. Yeah, I was ultimately happy that Emma smacked him in the head with a telescope and Mary Margaret kicked him out the window. ‘Cause, kidnapping? Never the proper answer to the question. But, I do hope that he ultimately finds his way back from his madness. And I couldn’t help but wish that some of what he was saying was getting through to Emma, because despite the maniacal glint in his eyes, he made a pretty compelling case for why she should belief.

He also spoke what might be my favorite line of the series thus far, “You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

But more on that tomorrow.