"Low-Hanging Fruit": The Low-Hanging Fruit of Metaphors?

So TM and I were having a conversation the other night, and he used the phrase"low-hanging fruit." I smirked, as I ALWAYS do when I hear that phrase, and we got into a discussion of why I can't hear (let alone say) it with a straight face. I think that it has something to do with how the first time I heard it, it was in reference to someone who used the phrase a lot (are you following me?), and my friend, who was talking about him, said, "I'd like to kick him in his low-hanging fruit."

You get where I'm going with this.

Also, I have a tendency to "hear" it punctuated as "low, hanging fruit" and to imagine it said in a voice like that of the narrator in Rocky Horror Picture Show when he describes the clouds as "heavy, black, and pendulous." (And if you've ever seen or experienced the interactive version of RHPS, you know that the shout-out line only adds to the immodest association hinted at above.)

So yes, I do have a juvenile streak, much as I try to hide it. (See this post for additional evidence.)

SO ANYWAY, we then started talking about alternative metaphors/cliches, and we couldn't think of any good ones. I suggested "easy target," but that doesn't mean quite the same thing. As TM pointed out, "low-hanging fruit" clearly suggests the easily reachable targets that you accomplish first, with the expectation that you will then get into the higher branches with their less-reachable fruit; "easy target" doesn't imply any more difficult targets to come.

And then we were pretty much stumped.

Thus I give it to you, dear readers. What alternative metaphor(s) would you suggest? Are there other figures of speech that serve the same purpose? Or is there a new metaphor, possibly less testicular, just waiting to be coined?

My happiness does not depend on ----

Everything starts tomorrow (we have 3 days containing meetings, including one all-day retreat, then classes begin on the 24th, except for that one Extra Special Class that starts on Sunday).

My wish tonight:

May I please not begin the year with resentment.

I had a flash of it tonight, you see. Resentment. Feeling unappreciated (how childish that sounds!). Recalling a promise that may not be delivered.

I ended the year--an otherwise pretty great year--on a not-great note, feeling taken for granted and put-upon. That feeling vanished over the summer. Tonight it resurfaced.

It's bad news, people. My happiness does not depend on the promise that may or may not be fulfilled. It does not depend on a raise, or a course release, or a small token of favor. These things are nothing.

Remember that.

Gratuitous Picture Post

A week or two ago, I was suddenly hit with an intense desire to relax. You know--enjoy the summer without working. Not that I've been working all that much, but.... Well, what prompted it was an email in which my mother asked me if I'd started a novel that she'd lent me, and I realized in writing back to her that I hadn't been reading fiction. Forgive my italics, but it shocked me.

So--rather than reading Cloud Atlas, the erudite and clearly fabulous novel from my mom (I started it and was liking it, but I lost my train of thought)--I've been reading Alexander McCall Smith's Isabel Dalhousie series. They start off as "mysteries," but lose that moniker pretty quickly; mostly Isabel reflects on moral philosophy, cooks risotto, and drinks wine with her youthful paramour. They're delightful, cozy, and easy on the brain (which sounds insulting, but I don't mean it that way. Look, I didn't want to work! This is a good thing). And they usually end up with some really sweet reflection on love or kindness or something. I like them.

The novels are set in Edinburgh, which brings me to my gratuitous pictures. I spent almost a week in Edinburgh back in '07, and I loved it. Today I browsed through the pictures that I took on my trip there; some of them are quite nice, so I'm sharing. Enjoy!

(And yes, all of them were taking in Edinburgh, even the ones that look like they couldn't possibly be urban--that was Holyrood Park, where I spent one of the nicest mornings I can remember.)

[Sigh] revision.

Long gap in blogging here due to a semi-chaotic family visit and a very sick kitty. Family left on Saturday. Kitty is still sick, but somewhat better (down from a very high fever into sneezing and snuffles). There really is nothing more pathetic than a sick cat.

So anyway, with all that settling down, I got back into my article this weekend. A few weeks ago, I read it over in hard copy (my preferred late-stage revision mode), made a few edits, and thought that it was just about ready to go. This weekend, I reread it, and did this:


Might I just say, Augh!!

Now pardon me, please, while I go type those notes up before I lose the ability to read them.

Paper-making is easy!

What Now? asked about paper-making in her comment on my last post, and I thought I'd answer her here. (Why not?)

Paper-making, as my title suggests, is easy! Especially if you shell out a bit for a kit. I went fancy and bought Arnold Grummer's Papermaker Pro, which is a hand-pour mold, though I would eventually consider getting a dip mold for faster, more consistent production. (Don't I sound professional? I am, after all, a Papermaker Pro! I have made 25 sheets of paper!) Truth be told, I didn't look into the difference between hand-pour and dip molds, and thought that I was getting the latter, since that's what I used in high school. But hand-pouring is super easy and, as the websites will tell you, the clean-up is easy.

Basically, here's how it works:

1. You get all your supplies lined up, and fill the kitchen sink about 2/3 full of water (depends on the depth of your sink, of course. Mine is fairly shallow).
2. In a blender, combine about 1 1/3 sheets of torn-up, post-consumer paper with 2 cups of water. Blend for 30 seconds.
3. Insert the mold into the sink, getting the water to within about 1/2" of the top.
4. Pour the blended slurry into the mold.
5. Agitate it with your fingers.
6. Carefully, but without delay, lift the mold straight up in the air.
7. Use various techniques to squeeze water out of the sheet, using a sponge and some screens (it's not that complicated, but you don't want to read about it, and I don't want to write it).
8. Dry the sheet! I leave it stuck to the window for a while and then, when it starts to fall off, press it under some books (with dry "couch sheets," as they're called, to absorb the moisture).

Really, it took me all of 5 minutes and one or two awkward attempts to get the hang of it. And within about 4 sheets I, being me, was tired of straightforward pages and started adding leaves (without reading directions on how to do so--that resulted in some weirdness) and blending for different lengths of time, etc. One technique I made up is to blend one sheet for 15 seconds, add 1/3 of a sheet in a slightly different color or with writing on it, and blend for the second 15 seconds. This produces interesting textures, and sometimes letters or fragments of words show up in the paper. I love it!

Below is a scanned image of one of the sheets I made yesterday using this newly invented technique (which is, I'm sure, not unique to me, but hey! I didn't read about it or ANYTHING).


It's not like a money-saving hobby (although I do intend to use it as the basis for many Christmas presents), but it is a form of recycling, and it's fun! Plus, I haven't found anywhere around here to buy handmade paper for bookbinding, so it'll be useful there.

Hot Dry Summer

In honor of July, I bring you a photographic essay documenting the behavior of cats on a 92-degree day:




The series concludes with Constant M.* telling me to knock it off with the picture-taking and rub her belly already.

Actually, it's cooler today, but we should be back up into the 90s this weekend. And just in time for the heat, I've finished my shawl:


Like the patrician tilt of my chin?

I'm also working on the paper-making, as this picture demonstrates:


Letting the sheets dry against glass gives them a smoother finish for writing, or so I have read. (I haven't actually written on them yet.)

In other news, I suppose I ought to go to the gym. At what point in my life does that requirement go away?


*A sudden, irrational fear that the eminent C.M.--whose work I respect--would find this page and be bothered by my pun has prompted me to abbreviate the cat's moniker.

Two Firsts

1) Got my first agent query rejection yesterday morning. The first of many, many such, I'm sure.

2) Also in my inbox yesterday morning was an invitation to contribute an essay to an edited collection. The book isn't under contract yet--they need the article abstracts for that, obviously--but there is an "interested press," as they say. Anyway, what's cool is that this essay collection is exactly in line with my current research interests! How did that happen? I mean, since no one officially knows what my current research interests are, given that I haven't published anything on them yet? (One article is coming out in the Fall, but it's not out yet, so....)

Anyway, it's all very exciting. It makes me feel like a Real Scholar of some kind. (And maybe I should, like, get over feeling like an Unreal Scholar, since I do have a book out and all that. But, you know, eh. I still feel like I'm about 23 years old when it comes to this profession.)