It’s time for yet another post on animals for your reading amusement: installment #17 from my blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
You won’t find this crèche in a crèche.
The dissimulation’s dissimulation about what kind of animals they were didn’t last long.
This herd must have heard – it has ears to hear.
How the scold scolded!
The mob wasn’t big enough to mob the fields.
We heard the crash crash through the brush.
Answers:
Mob, South Island, New Zealand
Crèche of penguins
Dissimulation of birds
Herd of rabbits (domestic only)
Scold of jays
Mob of sheep
Crash of rhinos
Crèche, South AfricaDissimulation, Inle Lake, Myanmar
Here is installment #16 from my now ginormous blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
This sloth was indeed slothful.
The turmoil created turmoil.
Is an unkindness unkind?
The hedge crowded on the hedge.
The bloom bloomed in the warm waters.
Bloats do look bloated.
Answers:
Sloth
Sloth of bears
Turmoil of porpoises
Unkindness of ravens
Hedge of heron
Bloom of jellyfish
Bloat of hippopotami
Hedge, Wilhelma Zoo, Stuttgart GermanyBloom, Loro Parque, Tenerifa
Admit it… you’re a little afraid to find out what this one is…
Here is installment #14 from my blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
An aerie lives in an aerie.
I found the idea of eating a possi impossible.
The lap did laps.
The whisker’s whiskers quivered.
The wedge flew in a wedge.
Does a chine have chins?
Aerie member, protected islands off the coast by Esperance, Australia
If you troll blogs and the Web, there are untold numbers of suggestions on how to find the inspiration to write. Here are my ideas for how to get inspired… all tried, tested, and true. [1]
#1. Lock yourself in a room. More importantly, lock everyone else out.
#2. Leave the room only when the whining of the family dog takes on that frantic the-puddle-that-is-about-to-hit-the-floor-is-going-to-be-your-fault whimper. If the writing is going well, you’ll be dragged out of your writerly trance. If you’re slowly dying in front of a screen that remains blank, this is rescue from your flailing “I am such a loser” writer’s misery.
#3. In either scenario, head outdoors and think about writing while you’re walking. I walk in our village’s Schrebegartens [2] when I need to think through a plot knot or to stretch my legs. Or to get some fresh air finally! Usually I pass people with actual dogs, but if I’m lucky I have the dirt path through the gardens and orchards to myself. A loop takes me about 40 minutes to walk. One very cold grey winter morning, I first heard and then watched a pair of green woodpeckers. They flew from tree bole to tree bole. I stood enchanted and didn’t move.
#4. Find people who actually write. A group that sits and talks about writing and books and movies and culture is good. My group saves those acts till 5:00 p.m. when the drinks are ordered. And then the second round. And then….
#5. Wait, where was I? Oh – find people who write. The clackety clack of a friend’s fickle fingers of fate as they fly over her laptop keys will force you to bitch-shame yourself. Soon you will be outlining, typing, scribbling, anything that makes it look like you’re composing art.
#6. Do the Vampire Energy Suck. This is the same scenario as #5, but now position yourself across the table from your annoyingly prolific writer friend (and did you ever really like him?) Stare as he writes on, oblivious. Imagine an energy transfer taking place across the table, from his creative cloud to yours.
#7. Find someplace impossibly, wildly, improbably inspiring. Find that place – and GO there. While you’re there, WRITE. I’m president of a monthly writers’ group; we meet regularly in a turreted building. I climb up three flights of winding stone steps in a tower. One day a week I go to a café in the medieval square of a nearby town.
The café’s interior has exposed timber beams and archives date the building all the way back to 1566. I want to pinch myself when I am in both spots: I write here! How lucky can I get? Other days I’m more severe: If I can’t get inspired by views and surroundings like these, I’d better hand in my writer’s badge now.
the bells in the clock tower ring every 15 minutes
#8. At least the rounds of drinks always taste right….
… as does the Flammkuchen we always order (thin crust pizza with onion, créme fraisch and bacon)
Yes. It’s time for another post on animals for your reading amusement: installment #13 from my blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
The screech screeched.
Unlike the peapod, this pod is almost extinct.
The flutter fluttered off the rock.
The gaze gazed from under the trees.
Wings winged away across the sand.
The tower towers.
Pod member, Mekong River, Laos border to CambodiaScreech member, Mallorca
I present installment #11 from my blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
Two weeks ago, I posted about crispy fried big black hairy spiders. I admit it…. I had fun thinking about grossing you out.
Believe me, when I saw the size of those buggers that day at the rest stop, I wasn’t just grossed out. I was really, really happy that they were behind glass.
I felt bad (okay, only slightly) for scaring the small children and grown men in my reading audience. So this week, I’m bringing you another food post, but in the opposite direction: Food as Art.
Uwe and I just made our first trip to two of the Baltic states. We spent a couple days each exploring Riga, Latvia and Tallinn, Estonia. Along with sparking a brand-new curiosity in the Hanseatic League [1], these cities introduced me to the northern European food scene.
Oh. My. God. We ate incredible meals every night. What made those meals so special is an insistence on local products and a reverence for tradition, but with a modern spin. The chefs did delicious things with grains like kasha, and groats and millet, and barley. For years I have firmly insisted that German bread is the best on the planet, closely followed by breads baked fresh in India [2]. Now there’s a new guy on the (bread) block: the pumpernickel and dark breads of the Baltics.
A starter with local smoked salmon
We ordered dishes with elk, deer, fresh and smoked fish,
A different restaurant’s smoked salmon with trout cavier, accompanied by rolled slices of cucumber… and a third restaurant’s smoked salmon appetizer. Art on a plateTraditional beet borscht soup, updated with yellow lentils and pieces of elk meat that melted in my mouth
local cheeses and beers. For the first time in my life I ate (and loved!) kippered herrings. Everything was decorated with edible flowers and herbs, and served up with intense purees of once uninteresting and now fascinating root vegetables. Everything was presented as a work of art. This is food to die for….
First course of wild mushrooms sauteéd and served in spinach blini purses
Without further ado, here are some of the plates from our feasts. Every night we forgot to photograph at least one course. We were too busy enjoying our food!
Lamb marinated in juniper berries served with yellow beetroot cream, cranberries and barleyFresh fish with beet root puree and kale (out of all the meals we ate, the kale was the one item that was not perfect)Venison stew with roasted onion halvesBeef with sweet pepper-eggplant-onion millet squares, oyster mushrooms, water cress and johnny-jump-ups
A shout out to the amazing restaurants Von Krahi Aed and Rataskaevu 16 in Tallinn, as well as Peter Gailis and Melna Bite in Riga. Labu apetīti and jätku leiba! [3]
Hibiscus poached pear, pumpkin seeds in apple syrup, and raspberry sorbet
This is installment #10 from my blog thread describing what to call groups of animals … See how many you can guess. Answers listed at the bottom of the page.
He parceled out food to the parcel.
The bob bobbed.
I added an herb bouquet to the cooking bouquet.
The pack thinks this part of Australia should be called the Outpack.
The pace set a slow pace.
How the charm charmed me!
Parcel, Chin village, MyanmarI’m a pack member, mate!
Answers:
Parcel of pigs
Bob of seals [1]
Bouquet of pheasant
Pack of dingos [2]
Pace of asses
Charm of hummingbirds [3]
Parcel partBob, protected sea life islands near Woody Island, Esperance, Australia
The café’s interior has exposed timber beams and archives date the building all the way back to 1566. I want to pinch myself when I am in both spots: I write here! How lucky can I get? Other days I’m more severe: If I can’t get inspired by views and surroundings like these, I’d better hand in my writer’s badge now.
