@Olamilekan

Hill let admire God wonderful work

Earning making money honestly is sweet

The classic eight ‘Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief.’ I first read Emma in my early 20s (I’m now in my early 40s) about the time that the Gwenyth Paltrow adaptation came out. That period in the late 1990s saw quite a few classic adaptations, in particular the novels of Austen, Dickens, and the Bronte sisters. I’ve always been a sucker for a re-jacketed classic, so during these years, I read a lot of classics. I’d read the ones that had been adapted into movies or TV series and then if I’d enjoyed that author, I’d read the rest of their books. I read all of Austen’s novels and enjoyed each of them, some more than others, but all of them enough to consider myself an Austen fan. Over the years since, I haven’t actually re-read any of them, but I’ve watched the various adaptations many times, considering them comfort watches. Recently, we decided to have a Jane Austen buddy read over in my Facebook group, but we were split on which one to read. It came down to Emma or Pride and Prejudice. So instead of choosing one, readers were given the option to read one or the other. I went with Emma this time as I seemed to remember enjoying this book the most for its humour value. Only by a sliver though, as Pride and Prejudice offers so much in terms of satire as well. But anyway, Emma it was. The biggest thing I’ve realised coming out of this buddy read is that I actually prefer the adaptations now to the actual novel. You can toss me out of the Austenhood for this if you like but reading Emma again was quite tedious! It’s so drawn out and things just take so long! Every thought, every action, every conversation: blah, blah for pages and pages. It’s all very entertaining, yes, and Austen did indeed have an eye for demonstrating so much through these character interactions, but I feel like my reading has evolved into a place where I no longer have any patience for it. And I can’t help but ask the question: did no one ever edit her manuscripts prior to publication? Everyone worships Austen as literary royalty, and I’m happy enough to nod at her genius, yet I can’t deny that she used the maximum words she could in every single sentence. Concise and Austen are not synonymous. After finishing the first volume of Emma, I tuned in to watch the most recent movie adaptation. That was a pure delight! Here it was, everything I loved about Emma on display, the conversations, the social interactions, the wit and sarcasm; this was a wonderful adaptation that captured the spirit of Emma so intricately. Of course, it ruined the rest of the novel for me. In comparison, the novel seemed to drag even more, particularly as I could recognise entire conversations that took two minutes in the film but were taking thirty pages in the novel. I’ve come to the conclusion that I love the story and characters of Emma, but I prefer to enjoy them on the screen. I know, it’s a literary betrayal, but there you have it. I have no doubt that I’d likely feel the same about each of her novels if I put in the time to do a comparison – which I have no intention of doing. When this latest adaptation of Emma was initially promoted, I saw plenty of people on social media asking if another one was necessary. In light of my experiences here, I’d now firmly say yes, I think new adaptations can constantly be released, again and again from generation to generation, offering a fresh look at the original classic text. In fact, I think they are vital, in order to keep these stories alive. Reading Emma again was a mixture of entertaining and tiresome, yet watching the latest adaptation was utterly delightful. All of the best was there with a great deal of the waffle gone; almost like an edited version of the novel! I’ve read a few novels this year about Austen herself and this did enhance my reading of Emma. In particular, this quote gave me pause: ‘Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable, old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls; but a single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant as anybody else. And the distinction is not quite so much against the candour and common sense of the world as appears at first; for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross.’ Given what we know of Austen herself, in that, she never married and lived out her life ‘by the pen’, even though this required a lot of charity from her brothers and other family members, this passage from Emma on remaining single struck me. Now, she wrote this early on in her career, given that Emma was her second novel. My impressions of this is that Jane was possibly testing the waters, throwing an idea out there about a woman choosing to remain single. She had the power to leave Emma single but instead married her off, conforming to society’s expectations of a woman’s role and means to a happy ending. Much in the way Louisa May Alcott did with Jo in Little Women. But this speech from Emma hints that Jane at least thought about it, but perhaps felt in the end that society was not yet ready for that sort of happy ending. Would it have been so very terrible for Emma and Knightley to have remained as friends and neighbours only? Maybe Jane thought that nobody would buy any more of her novels if she did that. Or maybe she truly believed that the true path the happiness always ended in matrimony. I’d prefer to believe the former. One of my favourite series of scenes within Emma is the one where the entire party visit Box Hill and Emma openly mocks Miss Bates, leading to a serious dressing down from Knightley later on. It’s such a terrific part of the novel for several reasons. Emma is forced into a self awareness that sees her shocked at her own behaviour, along with the reckoning of Knightley’s consternation and the place of this within her own sense of self as his favourite. This entire scene, from the arrival at Box Hill through to departure, has always played out so well, not just on the page but in every adaptation thereafter. ‘While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said, “Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?—Emma, I had not thought it possible.” Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off. “Nay, how could I help saying what I did?—Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.” “I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it—with what candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be so irksome.” “Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her.” “They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation—but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done indeed!—You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her—and before her niece, too—and before others, many of whom (certainly some ,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.—This is not pleasant to you, Emma—and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will,—I will tell you truths while I can, satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now.” While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome—then reproaching herself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgement, parting in apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to show a difference; but it was just too late. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck. The truth of his representation there was no denying. She felt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates!—How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any one she valued! And how suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness! Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself, fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to check them, extraordinary as they were.’ I’ll leave it here with the sharing of some other stand out quotes. In conclusion though, I’d rate Emma at four stars today rather than my five stars of twenty years ago. The film though? Well it gets the extra star! “Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old. I have seen a great many lists of her drawing up at various times of books that she meant to read regularly through—and very good lists they were—very well chosen, and very neatly arranged—sometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew up when only fourteen—I remember thinking it did her judgment so much credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.—You never could persuade her to read half so much as you wished.—You know you could not.” ~~~ ‘Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In her mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.’ ~~~ ‘I think her all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise, that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies another way.’ ~~~ ‘That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other.’ ~~~ ‘The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what ought to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.’ ~~~ ‘Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known how much of her happiness depended on being first with Mr. Knightley, first in interest and affection.—Satisfied that it was so, and feeling it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had been.’ ☕☕☕☕

Ice the ice

My idea about the world is just to do good and you will receive good in return

If you want a bright future I guess you have to do things in the light

Another starry sunday night I have been experimenting with words, music, art. This is another post that almost got deleted or delayed. I wrote it with a different choice of music, but I kept coming back to the one I am posting. Is this a poem? Yes. My poem, my rules~ I would love it if one of you used this outline or parts of the outline but inserted a different song and art. This post is a continuation of last Sunday’s post about my struggle to write a poem with a musical theme. The first poem I wrote I cannot share with you because I submitted it for consideration in an anthology of poems about music and it was accepted;-) It turned into a meaningful exercise for me. Imagine attempting to write a poem about music and nothing happens. It was my first experience with writer’s block in quite a while. I remember looking around in the room where I had been writing (without success) and then a lightbulb when off in my head! The room where I composed the poem has a theme. The poem I wrote is titled Surround Sound Elements and it’s about… well, you will be able to read it in an anthology book called The Poet’s Symphony, but for now you will have to settle for the one below;-)  One more thing. I wanted to put spaces between the instruction words and the rest of the line, but my app keeps deleting the spaces so I put the words in *italics*. Vinyl Rituals *stop* playing those tapes that manifest fear in your brain *begin* the rituals *breathe* deep breath inhale exhale repeat *browse* through iconic album covers of timeless art and faces of old friends *reminisce* about the legacies of maestros, rock stars, concertos, concerts *return* to scenes that make you feel **something** again *select* the music *place* record on the turntable and bring it to life *watch* it spin slowly *lift* the needle and gently place it on the groove …**the first spark of connection between machine and vinyl reignites the journey…** *resurrect* the vocalist Chester Bennington singing the song **One** **More Night** *remember* the first time you heard him sing the song **live** in honor of his friend Chris Cornell’s death *reflect* about the first time you heard him sing this song **again** two months later after his death *understand* both of them struggled in different bodies with similar demons *relax* listen to this gift bequeathed from a soul that yearned for peace too fragile to continue *learn* from the words of this song *let* go of pains from ghosts of the past *linger* longer in this life *choose* to live *reach* out to someone because someone is waiting to hear **your** song

Weeknight recipes for those who love..food! After starting my food Instagram account, I learned something very interesting. Many of my friends were surprised that I made most of the meals on a weeknight…for gasp, myself! As someone who has never been OK with a bowl of cereal or hummus for dinner and disdains spending $25 for a delivery meal served in cardboard, I often didn’t see another choice but to cook something quick at home. And I figure if I’m going to make the effort to cook, I might as well make it tasty even if it is just for me. My chicken sausage patties remixed int this quick lunchtime salad. One of my goals is to coax those who love food but are less than thrilled with cooking to give it a try again. There are many easy preparations, flavor bomb ingredients and exciting combinations I will be sharing that I hope will grow your confidence and enjoyment in cooking for yourself and others. If you already enjoy cooking and/or baking, that’s great! My other goal is to continue growing my culinary skills through experimenting with new techniques, ingredients and recipes. Hopefully we can learn together and share tips and tricks. Also, who doesn’t love a quick meal sometimes?

Animaling It was over a hundred degrees in Long Beach yesterday, even after the sun went down, which is when Donny and I headed to the drive-in theater to see The Goonies. I didn’t wear gauze on my fingers because it is at the sloughing stage and I wanted to let it breathe. The blisters have gone, and tiny wounds have scarred over, and the finger with the most damage is peeling down to its underskin like it’s also tired of the hot summer and wearing so many layers. I show him my peeling limbs, and he says the appropriate comforting things, and then smiles lightly as he remembers his own burn just earlier this year, and how things like that underline the fragility of our animal bodies. I am glad to have a boyfriend who, like me, isn’t disgusted by the affectations of humaning. *Images that disgust me:* rotten banana pudding slow eeking from a city sewer, a thin almost-sticky layer of dirt (why is it wet?), a pool of oil sitting on the ocean (how could we?), and blue food, and blue food dye, and blue-dye-soaked tongues, and little driplets of unexplained blue liquid lurking on kitchen floors. *Images that will never bother me:* how my friend with colitis explains the differing levels of blood in his stool, a long strand of my hair mixed into my salad and pulled out just before the eating, feet. I love how people have different metrics for what turns their heads, turns their tummies, turns the wheels in their brains. I love how people… people. And I’m fascinated by how people animal. And I’m curious, endlessly curious, about when we chose to do either, or both, and especially the moments we have no say in the choice. The cars in the parking lot are spaced like checkers. Masks have to be worn outside your vehicle. My mask is white and my hair is long, and I walk without a cane now. My dress would be a September dress in most years, the brown flower pattern on white strapless cloth says *fall is coming*, and sings a goodbye song to summer. *For he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow.* This year, even the weather doesn’t know what’s coming, and isn’t quite sure what has passed. In the middle of a heatwave, we get a flash flood warning. I can’t imagine how rain plans to sneak its way between the vibrating heat of the sky. How the sky thinks it will shed its way down through the almost-violent layer of sun spew and still be something whole by the time it splashes. Outside, away from the television alert, the people walking on my street don’t know this is coming, but I see them lift their faces up. I see them look over their shoulder. Lift their masks to sniff the big blue blanket that has us tucked so firmly in August. They look at each other, as if to acknowledge this shared knowing, but then look away, embarrassed, instead. I like how people people.

I want you to laugh I want to tell you about all the awfulness in my life, some that has passed, some that I am still working through. I want to tell you about funerals, doomsday doctors, people that can’t be trusted, and the accusations that tore my soul.  I want to warn you about what it’s like to be falsely criminalized and how several decades of honorable living doesn’t sway anyone, least of all a courtroom.  I want to tell you about a fear so real that it claws your soul and keeps you awake at night.  I want to explain why a girl surrounded by loved ones, educated, and powerful in her own right would consider divorce, suicide, and prostitution.  I want to share stories of bug-infested hotels, and untreated flus, and other people’s leftover food.  I want to teach you how I learned to lie in order to protect people– *Good* people– and how I learned that not everyone has goodness in their core.  I want to tell you how it feels to sell your wedding ring and the stuffed animal that you had since childhood, and what it feels like to have people tell you that you deserve every bad thing that happened to you.  I want to rip open my chest and show you what heartbreak looks like, and how it’s caused by people failing you in your time of need. I want to pull the veins from my body, tearing them out alongside the hurts that have imprinted themselves on my blood cells, and present my nightmares to you on a silver platter. Then I want you to take that shiny, slimy, bloody tray– and laugh. I don’t want you to feel the sadness, pain, anger, and resentment that hallmarked those moments. I want you to see the reflection of yourself and think: *Thank God it wasn’t me!* I want you think that perhaps at least a little of the pain was the universe calling in a karmic debt because everything is connected in some way.  I want you to see all my trauma as nothing more than a cosmic pie splattered right in my face.  I want you to be so filled with Schadenfreude that when you open your mouth to reply, it comes out as a giggle. Yes. *I want you to laugh.* Because if you’re laughing, it means you see yourself in the tray.  It means you feel vulnerable, mortal, and frightened, too– and then I am not alone in my fears.   It means that you see these gashes and festering wounds as boo-boos and bruises, and you are sure I can recover.  Your laughter means you are celebrating your good fortune and my strength. I need you to laugh so I can celebrate with you, and heal.  I need to heal so I can wipe pie off my face and move on. So when I am finally ready to carve a hole in my soul wide enough for you to crawl inside and look around– and you see the mess left behind and the damage done– please remember: *I want you to laugh.*

The dollop history Vintage School Lunch Recipes and Menus (1916-1960) With school fast approaching, if it hasn’t already arrived, I thought it would be fun to have a little look at the history of school lunch in the United States. I won’t be covering the historical evolution of the school lunch programs or nutritional requirements in detail, at least not right now. This is more of a sampling/selection of recipes and resources I found dated between the years 1916 and 1960. Consider it something of a visual timeline! There are plenty more where these came from, just click the links to the digitized texts in the Internet Archive. I hope you have as much fun as I did perusing these old recipes!

The classic editor is moving ,not stopping With the introduction of the Block editor, the WordPress.com Classic Editor was set for retirement at the beginning of June. We pushed that back a bit to make time for more changes that ease the transition to the Block editor — and now it’s time! The WordPress editor empowers you to create pages and posts by layering multiple blocks on top of each other. It’s versatile, intuitive, and boasts exciting new features, including: Over 100 content blocks available for publishing. A growing collection of block patterns. Dozens of beautiful built-in page templates. Styles you can customize directly within the editor. If you’d rather stick with the Classic editor experience — the one you used before we introduced the WordPress.com editor a few years ago — no worries. With the new and improved Classic block, you have the best of both editors: the flexibility and stability of the Block editor, and the Classic editor interface you know. From August 11 on all WordPress.com accounts will start to switch from Classic editor to the new Block editor. It will happen in phases, and you’ll get an email to let you know to expect the change. Here’s what you need to know if you’re a fan of the Classic editor experience. Why the change? There are exciting new features in the pipeline that require the new WordPress editor. It’s not technically possible to retrofit them into the older, Classic editor, and we want to make sure everyone can take advantage of them as they become available. With all WordPress.com users publishing with the Block editor, all WordPress.com users always have the latest and greatest. Can I create simple blog posts the way I always have? Yes, with the Classic block! It provides an editing experience that mimics the Classic editor — the same options and tools, in the same spot. To use it, add a Classic block to your post or page, then add and edit both text and media right inside it. Also …. The Block editor has updates to bring in some of your favorite classic features, like a clean editing screen. The Block editor displays pop-up options and menus as you type — they give you lots of control, but you might not always want them visible over your content. Turn on Top toolbar mode to keep them pinned to the top of the screen. It’s a great way to experience the full flexibility of the block editor while still allowing distraction-free writing. What about editing posts and pages already created in the Classic editor? Many of you have lots of pages and posts already created and published with the Classic editor. Previously, editing them in the Block editor led to a lot of prompts asking you to convert the content to blocks. Now there’s a single “Convert to blocks” menu item to take care of it in one go. You can use this button to upgrade your posts and pages to block-based content at your leisure. C**an I combine the Classic block with other blocks?** For the best editing experience, particularly if you use the mobile app to edit your posts, we recommend just having a single Classic block on each post or page. But, moving everyone to the block editor gives you the best of both worlds. You can continue writing and editing some of your posts with the simple Classic interface — but when you want to experiment with more complex layouts and functionality you can create a new post and play with the power and flexibility of all the other blocks on offer. For example, have you ever wanted an easy way to show off your favorite podcast?