When you’re smiling….

Charliefan2
Here's Jo, along with smiling Charlie my biggest fan — ha! ha! — so steeped in the book that I forgot about my Wench blog, so this is going to be bitty and brief. Also, Typepad has changed their set up, causing me all sorts of problems that I don't have time to figure out now. Apologies in advance if some of this in odd (like enormous images, for example.)

I saved a little bit out of the newspaper from a regular column by Pam Frier called Pleasures of the Table. This one's titled 17th Century Cooks Had Their Finger On the Pulse, and it's about old cookery books that measured time by the pulse. I'd not come across that, but it makes sense when a clock wasn't always to hand. They were expensive items. Referring to Sir Kenelm Digby's cookbook, she related that he instructed the cook to let an egg boil for about 200 strokes of the pulse. That would be about three minutes. Neat, eh?

The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight Opened can be downloaded from Gutenberg here. 

Digby

But what's that about smiling? For one thing, it's good for us. The physical act of smiling makes us happier. Apparently chronically depressed people have weak smiling muscles and improve if given smiling exercises. I even found this article about improvement after treatment with Botox.

Article on Botox

I quote: Botox’s potential to treat depression dawned on Dr. Eric Finzi, a
cosmetic surgeon in Chevy Chase, Md., and lead author of the study, a
few years ago, while he was studying facial expressions. Also a
painter, he was working on a series of portraits based on late 19th
century photographs of patients confined in the French hospital La
Salpetriere, an institution for women “of abnormal constitution.” “I
went back and read Charles Darwin. Back in the 1870s, he brought up
that you sort of are the emotions you express on your face,” Finzi says.

Maybe, he thought, the facial muscles feed information to the
emotion centers of the brain, which in turn respond with chemicals
that produce happy or sad feelings. The loop is complete when those
feelings are sent back to the brain, reinforcing expressions on the
face. It’s one theory that some researchers have held, though as yet
there is no proof of such a neurological underpinning. Scientists
have proven, however, that facial expressions can alter heart rate,
skin temperature and blood volume.

But what's this got to do with history? It's a bit tenuous, but I've been dipping into A brief History of the Smile, by Angus Trumble, Basic Books. I have only dipped as yet (see deadline above) but it is interesting.

Consider, for example, this quote in the book from de La Salle's Rules of Christian Decorum and Civility, 1703. "There are some people who raise their upper lip so high, or let the lower lip sag so much, that their teeth are almost entirely visible. This is entirely contrary to decorum, which forbids you to allow your teeth to be uncovered, since nature gave us lips to conceal them."

Delasalle 

Here's de La Salle, teeth decorously concealed.

It is good to know, however, that he approved of humorous after dinner wit that caused laughter, for that aids digestion. So that's the origin of the after dinner speaker, is it?

Hmm. His rules would cramp our writing style, wouldn't it. It'd be tight smiles all the way. Though I suppose we could increase the use of twinkling eyes.I remember one man on line who was adamant that a character should never grin unless they were supposed to be demented. Clearly he'd have sided with de La Salle.

What do you think about grinning characters? To me, it's not so much a Cheshire Cat grin, as the emotion behind it, which is not the same as a smile.

The book mentions nitrous oxide, or laughing gas, used for amusement before it became an anesthetic. It was synthesized in 1775, and used experimentally by many including Coleridge and Southey.

And then we have the smiley face, of which I'm very fond. 🙂

I will leave you with a snippet from The Spectator, the famous newspaper of the early 18th century. In September 1711, it noted at the end of an advertisement in the Post Boy (they had their own newspaper? Anyone want to find out more?) for horse racing "The same day, a gold ring to be grinn'd for by men." The Spectator investigated and discovered that people were exercising for hours a day.  "The prize to be grinned for has raised such an ambition among the common people of out-grinning one another that many very discerning persons are afraid it should spoil most of the faces of the country."

Now there's an incident someone can incorporate into a historical novel, I'm sure.

Expand on the topic of smiling, in life and in fiction. How do you like an author to show the many nuances of the smile? What about smiling faces on covers? Some contemporaries have smiling people on them, but historicals rarely. The trad Regencies often had smilers, sometimes manic grinners, and I wonder if it contributed to their demise.Edacov 
Consider the paperback of Emily and the Dark Angel, in which my darkish and dangerish Verderan is simpering. There's no other word for it. Then there's that glitch of light which makes him look as if he's wearing a dangly earring.

Did that make you smile? If not, do it anyway, right now.

Remember to smile, many times a day. It'll do you the world of good.

Jo 🙂

PS, the mass market paperback edition of Dragon Lovers is out, with brilliant stories by me, Mary Jo, Barbara Samuel and Karen Harbaugh. I'm scared to try to put up the cover of that because all the pictures seem to be so huge and I don't know what to do to fix them.

Ah well, I'll just smile about it.

:D  :D  😀


100 thoughts on “When you’re smiling….”

  1. OK, your asking us to grin worked. Starting off another day in the salt mines with a grin is certainly better than frowning about it.
    I’m not so sure I want to see a cover hero/heroine with manic grins on their faces. I would wonder about their sanity. But in the book itself, a happy grin is good. It expresses more unadulterated joy than a mere smile.

    Reply
  2. OK, your asking us to grin worked. Starting off another day in the salt mines with a grin is certainly better than frowning about it.
    I’m not so sure I want to see a cover hero/heroine with manic grins on their faces. I would wonder about their sanity. But in the book itself, a happy grin is good. It expresses more unadulterated joy than a mere smile.

    Reply
  3. OK, your asking us to grin worked. Starting off another day in the salt mines with a grin is certainly better than frowning about it.
    I’m not so sure I want to see a cover hero/heroine with manic grins on their faces. I would wonder about their sanity. But in the book itself, a happy grin is good. It expresses more unadulterated joy than a mere smile.

    Reply
  4. OK, your asking us to grin worked. Starting off another day in the salt mines with a grin is certainly better than frowning about it.
    I’m not so sure I want to see a cover hero/heroine with manic grins on their faces. I would wonder about their sanity. But in the book itself, a happy grin is good. It expresses more unadulterated joy than a mere smile.

    Reply
  5. OK, your asking us to grin worked. Starting off another day in the salt mines with a grin is certainly better than frowning about it.
    I’m not so sure I want to see a cover hero/heroine with manic grins on their faces. I would wonder about their sanity. But in the book itself, a happy grin is good. It expresses more unadulterated joy than a mere smile.

    Reply
  6. Except for the comment about how typepad has changed ( 😯 I haven’t looked at my blog all week, now I’m afraid to! ) You had me grinning through that entire thing 🙂
    Now, I have to say I’m with Linda. I’m not so sure I want to see novels with grinning characters on the cover unless the novel is either a light-hearted contemporary or a comedy of manners historical. I really think the cover should reflect the tone of the book (and really, someone ought to sit down and explain that concept to some of the publishers who choose the *worst* covers!)
    As for grinning *in* the novel…let’s see…you can grin, smile, simper, smirk, beam, twinkle, dimple, all without noise. But then you get into the snort, chuckle, chortle, giggle, guffaw, belly laugh, cackle, snigger, snicker and titter which are all natural progressions from a grin if whatever makes the person happy enough to grin, makes them laugh as well and that opens a whole ‘nother can of worms, not to mention what brows, eyes and assorted other body parts are doing during all of this.
    *sigh* Okay, I’ll quit…
    😉

    Reply
  7. Except for the comment about how typepad has changed ( 😯 I haven’t looked at my blog all week, now I’m afraid to! ) You had me grinning through that entire thing 🙂
    Now, I have to say I’m with Linda. I’m not so sure I want to see novels with grinning characters on the cover unless the novel is either a light-hearted contemporary or a comedy of manners historical. I really think the cover should reflect the tone of the book (and really, someone ought to sit down and explain that concept to some of the publishers who choose the *worst* covers!)
    As for grinning *in* the novel…let’s see…you can grin, smile, simper, smirk, beam, twinkle, dimple, all without noise. But then you get into the snort, chuckle, chortle, giggle, guffaw, belly laugh, cackle, snigger, snicker and titter which are all natural progressions from a grin if whatever makes the person happy enough to grin, makes them laugh as well and that opens a whole ‘nother can of worms, not to mention what brows, eyes and assorted other body parts are doing during all of this.
    *sigh* Okay, I’ll quit…
    😉

    Reply
  8. Except for the comment about how typepad has changed ( 😯 I haven’t looked at my blog all week, now I’m afraid to! ) You had me grinning through that entire thing 🙂
    Now, I have to say I’m with Linda. I’m not so sure I want to see novels with grinning characters on the cover unless the novel is either a light-hearted contemporary or a comedy of manners historical. I really think the cover should reflect the tone of the book (and really, someone ought to sit down and explain that concept to some of the publishers who choose the *worst* covers!)
    As for grinning *in* the novel…let’s see…you can grin, smile, simper, smirk, beam, twinkle, dimple, all without noise. But then you get into the snort, chuckle, chortle, giggle, guffaw, belly laugh, cackle, snigger, snicker and titter which are all natural progressions from a grin if whatever makes the person happy enough to grin, makes them laugh as well and that opens a whole ‘nother can of worms, not to mention what brows, eyes and assorted other body parts are doing during all of this.
    *sigh* Okay, I’ll quit…
    😉

    Reply
  9. Except for the comment about how typepad has changed ( 😯 I haven’t looked at my blog all week, now I’m afraid to! ) You had me grinning through that entire thing 🙂
    Now, I have to say I’m with Linda. I’m not so sure I want to see novels with grinning characters on the cover unless the novel is either a light-hearted contemporary or a comedy of manners historical. I really think the cover should reflect the tone of the book (and really, someone ought to sit down and explain that concept to some of the publishers who choose the *worst* covers!)
    As for grinning *in* the novel…let’s see…you can grin, smile, simper, smirk, beam, twinkle, dimple, all without noise. But then you get into the snort, chuckle, chortle, giggle, guffaw, belly laugh, cackle, snigger, snicker and titter which are all natural progressions from a grin if whatever makes the person happy enough to grin, makes them laugh as well and that opens a whole ‘nother can of worms, not to mention what brows, eyes and assorted other body parts are doing during all of this.
    *sigh* Okay, I’ll quit…
    😉

    Reply
  10. Except for the comment about how typepad has changed ( 😯 I haven’t looked at my blog all week, now I’m afraid to! ) You had me grinning through that entire thing 🙂
    Now, I have to say I’m with Linda. I’m not so sure I want to see novels with grinning characters on the cover unless the novel is either a light-hearted contemporary or a comedy of manners historical. I really think the cover should reflect the tone of the book (and really, someone ought to sit down and explain that concept to some of the publishers who choose the *worst* covers!)
    As for grinning *in* the novel…let’s see…you can grin, smile, simper, smirk, beam, twinkle, dimple, all without noise. But then you get into the snort, chuckle, chortle, giggle, guffaw, belly laugh, cackle, snigger, snicker and titter which are all natural progressions from a grin if whatever makes the person happy enough to grin, makes them laugh as well and that opens a whole ‘nother can of worms, not to mention what brows, eyes and assorted other body parts are doing during all of this.
    *sigh* Okay, I’ll quit…
    😉

    Reply
  11. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, crying can also be good for you. Several years ago my husband had a heart attack, my 15 y.o. son (born with congenital heart defect called tetralogy of Fallot) was told he might need further surgery (he’d already had 3 by the time he was 3 1/2), I smashed a car fender on a pillar in the hospital parking garage, the holidays were soon upon us, and, as you can imagine, I was fairly stressed. When a policeman pulled me over for cutting him off in a traffic circle (I swear to this day I did not) I burst out crying. He was a bit flustered and said “Lady, it’s only a ticket”. Out poured my whole litany of woes as tears streamed down my face. He put away the ticket book and said “Happy holidays” and drove away. I pulled into a side street, cried for another 10 minutes, and drove off feeling much better. I’ve since read that tears do have a physiological function in reducing stress. We grown-ups often bottle up our emotions rather than expressing them. Next time, however, I’ll rent “Old Yeller” or read the ending of “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” to give me an excuse to cry, rather than tempt a moving violation.
    P.S. My husband and son are fine, although their cardiologists do keep them on a fairly short leash.

    Reply
  12. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, crying can also be good for you. Several years ago my husband had a heart attack, my 15 y.o. son (born with congenital heart defect called tetralogy of Fallot) was told he might need further surgery (he’d already had 3 by the time he was 3 1/2), I smashed a car fender on a pillar in the hospital parking garage, the holidays were soon upon us, and, as you can imagine, I was fairly stressed. When a policeman pulled me over for cutting him off in a traffic circle (I swear to this day I did not) I burst out crying. He was a bit flustered and said “Lady, it’s only a ticket”. Out poured my whole litany of woes as tears streamed down my face. He put away the ticket book and said “Happy holidays” and drove away. I pulled into a side street, cried for another 10 minutes, and drove off feeling much better. I’ve since read that tears do have a physiological function in reducing stress. We grown-ups often bottle up our emotions rather than expressing them. Next time, however, I’ll rent “Old Yeller” or read the ending of “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” to give me an excuse to cry, rather than tempt a moving violation.
    P.S. My husband and son are fine, although their cardiologists do keep them on a fairly short leash.

    Reply
  13. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, crying can also be good for you. Several years ago my husband had a heart attack, my 15 y.o. son (born with congenital heart defect called tetralogy of Fallot) was told he might need further surgery (he’d already had 3 by the time he was 3 1/2), I smashed a car fender on a pillar in the hospital parking garage, the holidays were soon upon us, and, as you can imagine, I was fairly stressed. When a policeman pulled me over for cutting him off in a traffic circle (I swear to this day I did not) I burst out crying. He was a bit flustered and said “Lady, it’s only a ticket”. Out poured my whole litany of woes as tears streamed down my face. He put away the ticket book and said “Happy holidays” and drove away. I pulled into a side street, cried for another 10 minutes, and drove off feeling much better. I’ve since read that tears do have a physiological function in reducing stress. We grown-ups often bottle up our emotions rather than expressing them. Next time, however, I’ll rent “Old Yeller” or read the ending of “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” to give me an excuse to cry, rather than tempt a moving violation.
    P.S. My husband and son are fine, although their cardiologists do keep them on a fairly short leash.

    Reply
  14. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, crying can also be good for you. Several years ago my husband had a heart attack, my 15 y.o. son (born with congenital heart defect called tetralogy of Fallot) was told he might need further surgery (he’d already had 3 by the time he was 3 1/2), I smashed a car fender on a pillar in the hospital parking garage, the holidays were soon upon us, and, as you can imagine, I was fairly stressed. When a policeman pulled me over for cutting him off in a traffic circle (I swear to this day I did not) I burst out crying. He was a bit flustered and said “Lady, it’s only a ticket”. Out poured my whole litany of woes as tears streamed down my face. He put away the ticket book and said “Happy holidays” and drove away. I pulled into a side street, cried for another 10 minutes, and drove off feeling much better. I’ve since read that tears do have a physiological function in reducing stress. We grown-ups often bottle up our emotions rather than expressing them. Next time, however, I’ll rent “Old Yeller” or read the ending of “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” to give me an excuse to cry, rather than tempt a moving violation.
    P.S. My husband and son are fine, although their cardiologists do keep them on a fairly short leash.

    Reply
  15. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, crying can also be good for you. Several years ago my husband had a heart attack, my 15 y.o. son (born with congenital heart defect called tetralogy of Fallot) was told he might need further surgery (he’d already had 3 by the time he was 3 1/2), I smashed a car fender on a pillar in the hospital parking garage, the holidays were soon upon us, and, as you can imagine, I was fairly stressed. When a policeman pulled me over for cutting him off in a traffic circle (I swear to this day I did not) I burst out crying. He was a bit flustered and said “Lady, it’s only a ticket”. Out poured my whole litany of woes as tears streamed down my face. He put away the ticket book and said “Happy holidays” and drove away. I pulled into a side street, cried for another 10 minutes, and drove off feeling much better. I’ve since read that tears do have a physiological function in reducing stress. We grown-ups often bottle up our emotions rather than expressing them. Next time, however, I’ll rent “Old Yeller” or read the ending of “I Heard the Owl Call My Name” to give me an excuse to cry, rather than tempt a moving violation.
    P.S. My husband and son are fine, although their cardiologists do keep them on a fairly short leash.

    Reply
  16. Jo here.
    Linda, the fan is no more because it broke, but I have a substitute. I bought that one at the RWA New Orlean’s conference, back before Katrina, in the market there. It was only about $8 and very pretty.
    I found some more here in Victoria a couple of years ago, even cheaper though not as good quality, and bought 100 to give away to booksellers and librarians at a conference. Atlanta, I think.
    Fans a very useful things and I try to keep one around for hot, crowded rooms. And wafting one feels elegant.
    Susan, what an awful time that must have been, and yes, tears are good for us. I think they help balance the body chemistry. Sweating does that, too, as well as cooling us, but so often now we try to stifle sweat.
    There are always Turkish baths and saunas.
    It used to be okay for men to cry, and probably still is in many countries. I think the expectation that real men don’t cry is oppressive. Here’s to liberation for both sexes.
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  17. Jo here.
    Linda, the fan is no more because it broke, but I have a substitute. I bought that one at the RWA New Orlean’s conference, back before Katrina, in the market there. It was only about $8 and very pretty.
    I found some more here in Victoria a couple of years ago, even cheaper though not as good quality, and bought 100 to give away to booksellers and librarians at a conference. Atlanta, I think.
    Fans a very useful things and I try to keep one around for hot, crowded rooms. And wafting one feels elegant.
    Susan, what an awful time that must have been, and yes, tears are good for us. I think they help balance the body chemistry. Sweating does that, too, as well as cooling us, but so often now we try to stifle sweat.
    There are always Turkish baths and saunas.
    It used to be okay for men to cry, and probably still is in many countries. I think the expectation that real men don’t cry is oppressive. Here’s to liberation for both sexes.
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  18. Jo here.
    Linda, the fan is no more because it broke, but I have a substitute. I bought that one at the RWA New Orlean’s conference, back before Katrina, in the market there. It was only about $8 and very pretty.
    I found some more here in Victoria a couple of years ago, even cheaper though not as good quality, and bought 100 to give away to booksellers and librarians at a conference. Atlanta, I think.
    Fans a very useful things and I try to keep one around for hot, crowded rooms. And wafting one feels elegant.
    Susan, what an awful time that must have been, and yes, tears are good for us. I think they help balance the body chemistry. Sweating does that, too, as well as cooling us, but so often now we try to stifle sweat.
    There are always Turkish baths and saunas.
    It used to be okay for men to cry, and probably still is in many countries. I think the expectation that real men don’t cry is oppressive. Here’s to liberation for both sexes.
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  19. Jo here.
    Linda, the fan is no more because it broke, but I have a substitute. I bought that one at the RWA New Orlean’s conference, back before Katrina, in the market there. It was only about $8 and very pretty.
    I found some more here in Victoria a couple of years ago, even cheaper though not as good quality, and bought 100 to give away to booksellers and librarians at a conference. Atlanta, I think.
    Fans a very useful things and I try to keep one around for hot, crowded rooms. And wafting one feels elegant.
    Susan, what an awful time that must have been, and yes, tears are good for us. I think they help balance the body chemistry. Sweating does that, too, as well as cooling us, but so often now we try to stifle sweat.
    There are always Turkish baths and saunas.
    It used to be okay for men to cry, and probably still is in many countries. I think the expectation that real men don’t cry is oppressive. Here’s to liberation for both sexes.
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  20. Jo here.
    Linda, the fan is no more because it broke, but I have a substitute. I bought that one at the RWA New Orlean’s conference, back before Katrina, in the market there. It was only about $8 and very pretty.
    I found some more here in Victoria a couple of years ago, even cheaper though not as good quality, and bought 100 to give away to booksellers and librarians at a conference. Atlanta, I think.
    Fans a very useful things and I try to keep one around for hot, crowded rooms. And wafting one feels elegant.
    Susan, what an awful time that must have been, and yes, tears are good for us. I think they help balance the body chemistry. Sweating does that, too, as well as cooling us, but so often now we try to stifle sweat.
    There are always Turkish baths and saunas.
    It used to be okay for men to cry, and probably still is in many countries. I think the expectation that real men don’t cry is oppressive. Here’s to liberation for both sexes.
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  21. When our younger daughter broke our hearts and walked out the door, my husband sat in his chair and cried. Our older daughter stood there at a complete loss and told friends later she had no idea what to do because she’d never seen her dad cry. Ever.
    *sigh*
    My feeling? They’re just as entitled as we are.
    And I had something similar happen to me Susan. The police officer was the last straw for me too. I really prefer on the rare occasion that I cry like that to do it while I beat the crap out of my pillow, not while a cop is standing there looking like he can handle the world if he has to but a crying woman sends him into a panic…
    And I’m so glad your husband and son are well. Things like that are scary. :hug:

    Reply
  22. When our younger daughter broke our hearts and walked out the door, my husband sat in his chair and cried. Our older daughter stood there at a complete loss and told friends later she had no idea what to do because she’d never seen her dad cry. Ever.
    *sigh*
    My feeling? They’re just as entitled as we are.
    And I had something similar happen to me Susan. The police officer was the last straw for me too. I really prefer on the rare occasion that I cry like that to do it while I beat the crap out of my pillow, not while a cop is standing there looking like he can handle the world if he has to but a crying woman sends him into a panic…
    And I’m so glad your husband and son are well. Things like that are scary. :hug:

    Reply
  23. When our younger daughter broke our hearts and walked out the door, my husband sat in his chair and cried. Our older daughter stood there at a complete loss and told friends later she had no idea what to do because she’d never seen her dad cry. Ever.
    *sigh*
    My feeling? They’re just as entitled as we are.
    And I had something similar happen to me Susan. The police officer was the last straw for me too. I really prefer on the rare occasion that I cry like that to do it while I beat the crap out of my pillow, not while a cop is standing there looking like he can handle the world if he has to but a crying woman sends him into a panic…
    And I’m so glad your husband and son are well. Things like that are scary. :hug:

    Reply
  24. When our younger daughter broke our hearts and walked out the door, my husband sat in his chair and cried. Our older daughter stood there at a complete loss and told friends later she had no idea what to do because she’d never seen her dad cry. Ever.
    *sigh*
    My feeling? They’re just as entitled as we are.
    And I had something similar happen to me Susan. The police officer was the last straw for me too. I really prefer on the rare occasion that I cry like that to do it while I beat the crap out of my pillow, not while a cop is standing there looking like he can handle the world if he has to but a crying woman sends him into a panic…
    And I’m so glad your husband and son are well. Things like that are scary. :hug:

    Reply
  25. When our younger daughter broke our hearts and walked out the door, my husband sat in his chair and cried. Our older daughter stood there at a complete loss and told friends later she had no idea what to do because she’d never seen her dad cry. Ever.
    *sigh*
    My feeling? They’re just as entitled as we are.
    And I had something similar happen to me Susan. The police officer was the last straw for me too. I really prefer on the rare occasion that I cry like that to do it while I beat the crap out of my pillow, not while a cop is standing there looking like he can handle the world if he has to but a crying woman sends him into a panic…
    And I’m so glad your husband and son are well. Things like that are scary. :hug:

    Reply
  26. From Sherrie:
    Ah, Jo. One can always rely on you to come up with the offbeat yet fascinating subject.
    Smiling is a subject near and dear to my heart. About 10 years ago I was having a rough time. I know I looked glum at work. A co-worker said she didn’t approach me because I had a “stay away” look. Ouch.
    Then I heard the expression, “fake it till you make it,” and decided I needed to apply that to my life. It worked. Whenever anyone asked me how I was, I responded with a big smile and an enthusiastic, “Outstanding!” no matter how down I was. One day our president mentioned in a big meeting that whenever he needed an emotional boost, he’d go find me just so he’d see my smile and my cheerful, “Outstanding!” when he asked how I was.
    I consider myself a very happy person, and part of that is just my optimistic outlook on life–brought on by forcing myself to smile and laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. I manhandled a woe-is-me attitude into a wow-is-me attitude. Never underestimate the positive power of a smile!

    Reply
  27. From Sherrie:
    Ah, Jo. One can always rely on you to come up with the offbeat yet fascinating subject.
    Smiling is a subject near and dear to my heart. About 10 years ago I was having a rough time. I know I looked glum at work. A co-worker said she didn’t approach me because I had a “stay away” look. Ouch.
    Then I heard the expression, “fake it till you make it,” and decided I needed to apply that to my life. It worked. Whenever anyone asked me how I was, I responded with a big smile and an enthusiastic, “Outstanding!” no matter how down I was. One day our president mentioned in a big meeting that whenever he needed an emotional boost, he’d go find me just so he’d see my smile and my cheerful, “Outstanding!” when he asked how I was.
    I consider myself a very happy person, and part of that is just my optimistic outlook on life–brought on by forcing myself to smile and laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. I manhandled a woe-is-me attitude into a wow-is-me attitude. Never underestimate the positive power of a smile!

    Reply
  28. From Sherrie:
    Ah, Jo. One can always rely on you to come up with the offbeat yet fascinating subject.
    Smiling is a subject near and dear to my heart. About 10 years ago I was having a rough time. I know I looked glum at work. A co-worker said she didn’t approach me because I had a “stay away” look. Ouch.
    Then I heard the expression, “fake it till you make it,” and decided I needed to apply that to my life. It worked. Whenever anyone asked me how I was, I responded with a big smile and an enthusiastic, “Outstanding!” no matter how down I was. One day our president mentioned in a big meeting that whenever he needed an emotional boost, he’d go find me just so he’d see my smile and my cheerful, “Outstanding!” when he asked how I was.
    I consider myself a very happy person, and part of that is just my optimistic outlook on life–brought on by forcing myself to smile and laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. I manhandled a woe-is-me attitude into a wow-is-me attitude. Never underestimate the positive power of a smile!

    Reply
  29. From Sherrie:
    Ah, Jo. One can always rely on you to come up with the offbeat yet fascinating subject.
    Smiling is a subject near and dear to my heart. About 10 years ago I was having a rough time. I know I looked glum at work. A co-worker said she didn’t approach me because I had a “stay away” look. Ouch.
    Then I heard the expression, “fake it till you make it,” and decided I needed to apply that to my life. It worked. Whenever anyone asked me how I was, I responded with a big smile and an enthusiastic, “Outstanding!” no matter how down I was. One day our president mentioned in a big meeting that whenever he needed an emotional boost, he’d go find me just so he’d see my smile and my cheerful, “Outstanding!” when he asked how I was.
    I consider myself a very happy person, and part of that is just my optimistic outlook on life–brought on by forcing myself to smile and laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. I manhandled a woe-is-me attitude into a wow-is-me attitude. Never underestimate the positive power of a smile!

    Reply
  30. From Sherrie:
    Ah, Jo. One can always rely on you to come up with the offbeat yet fascinating subject.
    Smiling is a subject near and dear to my heart. About 10 years ago I was having a rough time. I know I looked glum at work. A co-worker said she didn’t approach me because I had a “stay away” look. Ouch.
    Then I heard the expression, “fake it till you make it,” and decided I needed to apply that to my life. It worked. Whenever anyone asked me how I was, I responded with a big smile and an enthusiastic, “Outstanding!” no matter how down I was. One day our president mentioned in a big meeting that whenever he needed an emotional boost, he’d go find me just so he’d see my smile and my cheerful, “Outstanding!” when he asked how I was.
    I consider myself a very happy person, and part of that is just my optimistic outlook on life–brought on by forcing myself to smile and laugh, even when I didn’t feel like it. I manhandled a woe-is-me attitude into a wow-is-me attitude. Never underestimate the positive power of a smile!

    Reply
  31. I’m smilling, Ms Jo.
    I looked thru your books that I have. “An Unwilling Bride” has a young lady on the cover that IMO has a “questioning” smile on her face. Perhaps you agree. It’s a Zebra Regency edition.

    Reply
  32. I’m smilling, Ms Jo.
    I looked thru your books that I have. “An Unwilling Bride” has a young lady on the cover that IMO has a “questioning” smile on her face. Perhaps you agree. It’s a Zebra Regency edition.

    Reply
  33. I’m smilling, Ms Jo.
    I looked thru your books that I have. “An Unwilling Bride” has a young lady on the cover that IMO has a “questioning” smile on her face. Perhaps you agree. It’s a Zebra Regency edition.

    Reply
  34. I’m smilling, Ms Jo.
    I looked thru your books that I have. “An Unwilling Bride” has a young lady on the cover that IMO has a “questioning” smile on her face. Perhaps you agree. It’s a Zebra Regency edition.

    Reply
  35. I’m smilling, Ms Jo.
    I looked thru your books that I have. “An Unwilling Bride” has a young lady on the cover that IMO has a “questioning” smile on her face. Perhaps you agree. It’s a Zebra Regency edition.

    Reply
  36. Susan: You don’t have to go out and rent a movie if you want to have a good cry. Just watch Sarah McLachlan’s PSA for the ASPCA. Every time I see it, I want to burst into tears, grab the nearest cat, and hug the bejazus out of her.
    Has anyone else read Max Beerbohm’s “The Happy Hypocrite”? It’s the story of a man steeped in vice who falls in love with an innocent young girl who naturally views him with revulsion. He has a mask made that shows his own face, but reflecting a noble character, and wears it full time. He marries the girl and they are living happily together when they are accosted by a discarded lover from his bad old days, who rips the mask from his face…
    I’ll let you find the story so you can find out what happens then.
    Jo, my Milton professor once had the bright idea of trying authentic recipes from the age of Milton, so he brought home a copy of Sir Kenelm Digby’s book and handed it to his wife.
    There wasn’t ONE recipe in it that she could prepare!
    Not because she wasn’t a good cook, but all the recipes had instructions like “First feed your chicken for three weeks upon raisins” or “Seal in a stone crock and place in a running stream for three days.” Hard to follow when you live in a nice suburban house!

    Reply
  37. Susan: You don’t have to go out and rent a movie if you want to have a good cry. Just watch Sarah McLachlan’s PSA for the ASPCA. Every time I see it, I want to burst into tears, grab the nearest cat, and hug the bejazus out of her.
    Has anyone else read Max Beerbohm’s “The Happy Hypocrite”? It’s the story of a man steeped in vice who falls in love with an innocent young girl who naturally views him with revulsion. He has a mask made that shows his own face, but reflecting a noble character, and wears it full time. He marries the girl and they are living happily together when they are accosted by a discarded lover from his bad old days, who rips the mask from his face…
    I’ll let you find the story so you can find out what happens then.
    Jo, my Milton professor once had the bright idea of trying authentic recipes from the age of Milton, so he brought home a copy of Sir Kenelm Digby’s book and handed it to his wife.
    There wasn’t ONE recipe in it that she could prepare!
    Not because she wasn’t a good cook, but all the recipes had instructions like “First feed your chicken for three weeks upon raisins” or “Seal in a stone crock and place in a running stream for three days.” Hard to follow when you live in a nice suburban house!

    Reply
  38. Susan: You don’t have to go out and rent a movie if you want to have a good cry. Just watch Sarah McLachlan’s PSA for the ASPCA. Every time I see it, I want to burst into tears, grab the nearest cat, and hug the bejazus out of her.
    Has anyone else read Max Beerbohm’s “The Happy Hypocrite”? It’s the story of a man steeped in vice who falls in love with an innocent young girl who naturally views him with revulsion. He has a mask made that shows his own face, but reflecting a noble character, and wears it full time. He marries the girl and they are living happily together when they are accosted by a discarded lover from his bad old days, who rips the mask from his face…
    I’ll let you find the story so you can find out what happens then.
    Jo, my Milton professor once had the bright idea of trying authentic recipes from the age of Milton, so he brought home a copy of Sir Kenelm Digby’s book and handed it to his wife.
    There wasn’t ONE recipe in it that she could prepare!
    Not because she wasn’t a good cook, but all the recipes had instructions like “First feed your chicken for three weeks upon raisins” or “Seal in a stone crock and place in a running stream for three days.” Hard to follow when you live in a nice suburban house!

    Reply
  39. Susan: You don’t have to go out and rent a movie if you want to have a good cry. Just watch Sarah McLachlan’s PSA for the ASPCA. Every time I see it, I want to burst into tears, grab the nearest cat, and hug the bejazus out of her.
    Has anyone else read Max Beerbohm’s “The Happy Hypocrite”? It’s the story of a man steeped in vice who falls in love with an innocent young girl who naturally views him with revulsion. He has a mask made that shows his own face, but reflecting a noble character, and wears it full time. He marries the girl and they are living happily together when they are accosted by a discarded lover from his bad old days, who rips the mask from his face…
    I’ll let you find the story so you can find out what happens then.
    Jo, my Milton professor once had the bright idea of trying authentic recipes from the age of Milton, so he brought home a copy of Sir Kenelm Digby’s book and handed it to his wife.
    There wasn’t ONE recipe in it that she could prepare!
    Not because she wasn’t a good cook, but all the recipes had instructions like “First feed your chicken for three weeks upon raisins” or “Seal in a stone crock and place in a running stream for three days.” Hard to follow when you live in a nice suburban house!

    Reply
  40. Susan: You don’t have to go out and rent a movie if you want to have a good cry. Just watch Sarah McLachlan’s PSA for the ASPCA. Every time I see it, I want to burst into tears, grab the nearest cat, and hug the bejazus out of her.
    Has anyone else read Max Beerbohm’s “The Happy Hypocrite”? It’s the story of a man steeped in vice who falls in love with an innocent young girl who naturally views him with revulsion. He has a mask made that shows his own face, but reflecting a noble character, and wears it full time. He marries the girl and they are living happily together when they are accosted by a discarded lover from his bad old days, who rips the mask from his face…
    I’ll let you find the story so you can find out what happens then.
    Jo, my Milton professor once had the bright idea of trying authentic recipes from the age of Milton, so he brought home a copy of Sir Kenelm Digby’s book and handed it to his wife.
    There wasn’t ONE recipe in it that she could prepare!
    Not because she wasn’t a good cook, but all the recipes had instructions like “First feed your chicken for three weeks upon raisins” or “Seal in a stone crock and place in a running stream for three days.” Hard to follow when you live in a nice suburban house!

    Reply
  41. Tal! I agree. I almost hate to see that commercial come on, it’s so heart-wrenching. *sigh*
    I used to cry when the woman in the commercial got her floor clean though. Thank heaven I’m not that bad anymore…

    Reply
  42. Tal! I agree. I almost hate to see that commercial come on, it’s so heart-wrenching. *sigh*
    I used to cry when the woman in the commercial got her floor clean though. Thank heaven I’m not that bad anymore…

    Reply
  43. Tal! I agree. I almost hate to see that commercial come on, it’s so heart-wrenching. *sigh*
    I used to cry when the woman in the commercial got her floor clean though. Thank heaven I’m not that bad anymore…

    Reply
  44. Tal! I agree. I almost hate to see that commercial come on, it’s so heart-wrenching. *sigh*
    I used to cry when the woman in the commercial got her floor clean though. Thank heaven I’m not that bad anymore…

    Reply
  45. Tal! I agree. I almost hate to see that commercial come on, it’s so heart-wrenching. *sigh*
    I used to cry when the woman in the commercial got her floor clean though. Thank heaven I’m not that bad anymore…

    Reply
  46. Jo here.
    Interesting about the cookbook, Tal. I bet the chicken enjoyed the raisins, though — as long as it didn’t know the purpose! I’m really curious, now. Was it just a fad thing, or did the flesh taste different?
    Louis, a questioning smile, perhaps. Perhaps cautious? But that scene would seem to be the early balcony one when they were antagonistic, so no smile at all would have been better.
    Americans seem to have the approach that no smile can be too wide. I sometimes think there’s natural selection going on for mouths that can stretch to the ears. At the same time, the American standard of beauty calls for a wide jaw along the line where the mouth is (got that from some research on it,) as if to accommodate the smile.
    Comments?
    Jo

    Reply
  47. Jo here.
    Interesting about the cookbook, Tal. I bet the chicken enjoyed the raisins, though — as long as it didn’t know the purpose! I’m really curious, now. Was it just a fad thing, or did the flesh taste different?
    Louis, a questioning smile, perhaps. Perhaps cautious? But that scene would seem to be the early balcony one when they were antagonistic, so no smile at all would have been better.
    Americans seem to have the approach that no smile can be too wide. I sometimes think there’s natural selection going on for mouths that can stretch to the ears. At the same time, the American standard of beauty calls for a wide jaw along the line where the mouth is (got that from some research on it,) as if to accommodate the smile.
    Comments?
    Jo

    Reply
  48. Jo here.
    Interesting about the cookbook, Tal. I bet the chicken enjoyed the raisins, though — as long as it didn’t know the purpose! I’m really curious, now. Was it just a fad thing, or did the flesh taste different?
    Louis, a questioning smile, perhaps. Perhaps cautious? But that scene would seem to be the early balcony one when they were antagonistic, so no smile at all would have been better.
    Americans seem to have the approach that no smile can be too wide. I sometimes think there’s natural selection going on for mouths that can stretch to the ears. At the same time, the American standard of beauty calls for a wide jaw along the line where the mouth is (got that from some research on it,) as if to accommodate the smile.
    Comments?
    Jo

    Reply
  49. Jo here.
    Interesting about the cookbook, Tal. I bet the chicken enjoyed the raisins, though — as long as it didn’t know the purpose! I’m really curious, now. Was it just a fad thing, or did the flesh taste different?
    Louis, a questioning smile, perhaps. Perhaps cautious? But that scene would seem to be the early balcony one when they were antagonistic, so no smile at all would have been better.
    Americans seem to have the approach that no smile can be too wide. I sometimes think there’s natural selection going on for mouths that can stretch to the ears. At the same time, the American standard of beauty calls for a wide jaw along the line where the mouth is (got that from some research on it,) as if to accommodate the smile.
    Comments?
    Jo

    Reply
  50. Jo here.
    Interesting about the cookbook, Tal. I bet the chicken enjoyed the raisins, though — as long as it didn’t know the purpose! I’m really curious, now. Was it just a fad thing, or did the flesh taste different?
    Louis, a questioning smile, perhaps. Perhaps cautious? But that scene would seem to be the early balcony one when they were antagonistic, so no smile at all would have been better.
    Americans seem to have the approach that no smile can be too wide. I sometimes think there’s natural selection going on for mouths that can stretch to the ears. At the same time, the American standard of beauty calls for a wide jaw along the line where the mouth is (got that from some research on it,) as if to accommodate the smile.
    Comments?
    Jo

    Reply
  51. I assume that what an animal eats affects the flavor of its meat; or why is it that we don’t eat the flesh of carnivores unless we’re starving?
    The geologist William Buckland and his son Francis were famous zoophagists:
    Wikipedia:
    [William Buckland’s] passion for scientific observation and experiment extended to his home life. Not only was his house filled with specimens – animal as well as mineral, live as well as dead – but he claimed to have eaten his way through the animal kingdom: zoophagy. The most distasteful items were mole and bluebottle; panther, crocodile and mouse were among the other dishes noted by guests. Augustus Hare, a famous English raconteur and contemporary, recalled, “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.” The heart in question is said to have been that of Louis XIV. Buckland was followed in this bizarre hobby by his son Frank.
    [Frank] Buckland gradually gave up surgery, and increasingly devoted himself to natural history. He made a good income as a writer for The Field and other periodicals and from the sale of popular books, and he was much in demand as a lecturer and speaker.
    Buckland was a pioneer of zoöphagy: his favourite research was eating the animal kingdom. This habit he learnt from his father, whose residence, the Deanery, offered such rare delights as mice in batter, squirrel pie, horse’s tongue and ostrich. After the ‘Eland Dinner’ in 1859 at the London Tavern, organised by Richard Owen, Buckland set up the Acclimatization Society to further the search for new food. In 1862 100 guests at Willis’ Rooms sampled Japanese Sea slug (= sea cucumber, probably), kangaroo, guan, curassow and Honduras turkey. This was really quite a modest menu, though Buckland had his eye on Capybara for the future. Buckland’s home, 37 Albany Sreet, London, was famous for its menagery and its varied menus. [end quote]
    William Buckland once said that mole was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted until he tried blackbeetle (not, as Wiki states, bluebottle).
    And I wish you all a happy belated Mole Day (October 23 from 6;02 am to 6:02 pm)!

    Reply
  52. I assume that what an animal eats affects the flavor of its meat; or why is it that we don’t eat the flesh of carnivores unless we’re starving?
    The geologist William Buckland and his son Francis were famous zoophagists:
    Wikipedia:
    [William Buckland’s] passion for scientific observation and experiment extended to his home life. Not only was his house filled with specimens – animal as well as mineral, live as well as dead – but he claimed to have eaten his way through the animal kingdom: zoophagy. The most distasteful items were mole and bluebottle; panther, crocodile and mouse were among the other dishes noted by guests. Augustus Hare, a famous English raconteur and contemporary, recalled, “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.” The heart in question is said to have been that of Louis XIV. Buckland was followed in this bizarre hobby by his son Frank.
    [Frank] Buckland gradually gave up surgery, and increasingly devoted himself to natural history. He made a good income as a writer for The Field and other periodicals and from the sale of popular books, and he was much in demand as a lecturer and speaker.
    Buckland was a pioneer of zoöphagy: his favourite research was eating the animal kingdom. This habit he learnt from his father, whose residence, the Deanery, offered such rare delights as mice in batter, squirrel pie, horse’s tongue and ostrich. After the ‘Eland Dinner’ in 1859 at the London Tavern, organised by Richard Owen, Buckland set up the Acclimatization Society to further the search for new food. In 1862 100 guests at Willis’ Rooms sampled Japanese Sea slug (= sea cucumber, probably), kangaroo, guan, curassow and Honduras turkey. This was really quite a modest menu, though Buckland had his eye on Capybara for the future. Buckland’s home, 37 Albany Sreet, London, was famous for its menagery and its varied menus. [end quote]
    William Buckland once said that mole was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted until he tried blackbeetle (not, as Wiki states, bluebottle).
    And I wish you all a happy belated Mole Day (October 23 from 6;02 am to 6:02 pm)!

    Reply
  53. I assume that what an animal eats affects the flavor of its meat; or why is it that we don’t eat the flesh of carnivores unless we’re starving?
    The geologist William Buckland and his son Francis were famous zoophagists:
    Wikipedia:
    [William Buckland’s] passion for scientific observation and experiment extended to his home life. Not only was his house filled with specimens – animal as well as mineral, live as well as dead – but he claimed to have eaten his way through the animal kingdom: zoophagy. The most distasteful items were mole and bluebottle; panther, crocodile and mouse were among the other dishes noted by guests. Augustus Hare, a famous English raconteur and contemporary, recalled, “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.” The heart in question is said to have been that of Louis XIV. Buckland was followed in this bizarre hobby by his son Frank.
    [Frank] Buckland gradually gave up surgery, and increasingly devoted himself to natural history. He made a good income as a writer for The Field and other periodicals and from the sale of popular books, and he was much in demand as a lecturer and speaker.
    Buckland was a pioneer of zoöphagy: his favourite research was eating the animal kingdom. This habit he learnt from his father, whose residence, the Deanery, offered such rare delights as mice in batter, squirrel pie, horse’s tongue and ostrich. After the ‘Eland Dinner’ in 1859 at the London Tavern, organised by Richard Owen, Buckland set up the Acclimatization Society to further the search for new food. In 1862 100 guests at Willis’ Rooms sampled Japanese Sea slug (= sea cucumber, probably), kangaroo, guan, curassow and Honduras turkey. This was really quite a modest menu, though Buckland had his eye on Capybara for the future. Buckland’s home, 37 Albany Sreet, London, was famous for its menagery and its varied menus. [end quote]
    William Buckland once said that mole was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted until he tried blackbeetle (not, as Wiki states, bluebottle).
    And I wish you all a happy belated Mole Day (October 23 from 6;02 am to 6:02 pm)!

    Reply
  54. I assume that what an animal eats affects the flavor of its meat; or why is it that we don’t eat the flesh of carnivores unless we’re starving?
    The geologist William Buckland and his son Francis were famous zoophagists:
    Wikipedia:
    [William Buckland’s] passion for scientific observation and experiment extended to his home life. Not only was his house filled with specimens – animal as well as mineral, live as well as dead – but he claimed to have eaten his way through the animal kingdom: zoophagy. The most distasteful items were mole and bluebottle; panther, crocodile and mouse were among the other dishes noted by guests. Augustus Hare, a famous English raconteur and contemporary, recalled, “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.” The heart in question is said to have been that of Louis XIV. Buckland was followed in this bizarre hobby by his son Frank.
    [Frank] Buckland gradually gave up surgery, and increasingly devoted himself to natural history. He made a good income as a writer for The Field and other periodicals and from the sale of popular books, and he was much in demand as a lecturer and speaker.
    Buckland was a pioneer of zoöphagy: his favourite research was eating the animal kingdom. This habit he learnt from his father, whose residence, the Deanery, offered such rare delights as mice in batter, squirrel pie, horse’s tongue and ostrich. After the ‘Eland Dinner’ in 1859 at the London Tavern, organised by Richard Owen, Buckland set up the Acclimatization Society to further the search for new food. In 1862 100 guests at Willis’ Rooms sampled Japanese Sea slug (= sea cucumber, probably), kangaroo, guan, curassow and Honduras turkey. This was really quite a modest menu, though Buckland had his eye on Capybara for the future. Buckland’s home, 37 Albany Sreet, London, was famous for its menagery and its varied menus. [end quote]
    William Buckland once said that mole was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted until he tried blackbeetle (not, as Wiki states, bluebottle).
    And I wish you all a happy belated Mole Day (October 23 from 6;02 am to 6:02 pm)!

    Reply
  55. I assume that what an animal eats affects the flavor of its meat; or why is it that we don’t eat the flesh of carnivores unless we’re starving?
    The geologist William Buckland and his son Francis were famous zoophagists:
    Wikipedia:
    [William Buckland’s] passion for scientific observation and experiment extended to his home life. Not only was his house filled with specimens – animal as well as mineral, live as well as dead – but he claimed to have eaten his way through the animal kingdom: zoophagy. The most distasteful items were mole and bluebottle; panther, crocodile and mouse were among the other dishes noted by guests. Augustus Hare, a famous English raconteur and contemporary, recalled, “Talk of strange relics led to mention of the heart of a French King preserved at Nuneham in a silver casket. Dr. Buckland, whilst looking at it, exclaimed, ‘I have eaten many strange things, but have never eaten the heart of a king before,’ and, before anyone could hinder him, he had gobbled it up, and the precious relic was lost for ever.” The heart in question is said to have been that of Louis XIV. Buckland was followed in this bizarre hobby by his son Frank.
    [Frank] Buckland gradually gave up surgery, and increasingly devoted himself to natural history. He made a good income as a writer for The Field and other periodicals and from the sale of popular books, and he was much in demand as a lecturer and speaker.
    Buckland was a pioneer of zoöphagy: his favourite research was eating the animal kingdom. This habit he learnt from his father, whose residence, the Deanery, offered such rare delights as mice in batter, squirrel pie, horse’s tongue and ostrich. After the ‘Eland Dinner’ in 1859 at the London Tavern, organised by Richard Owen, Buckland set up the Acclimatization Society to further the search for new food. In 1862 100 guests at Willis’ Rooms sampled Japanese Sea slug (= sea cucumber, probably), kangaroo, guan, curassow and Honduras turkey. This was really quite a modest menu, though Buckland had his eye on Capybara for the future. Buckland’s home, 37 Albany Sreet, London, was famous for its menagery and its varied menus. [end quote]
    William Buckland once said that mole was the nastiest thing he had ever tasted until he tried blackbeetle (not, as Wiki states, bluebottle).
    And I wish you all a happy belated Mole Day (October 23 from 6;02 am to 6:02 pm)!

    Reply
  56. P.S. And there’s always Farley Mowat’s recipe for “Mouse Mousse” in NEVER CRY WOLF. His goal was to prove that large carnivores, like wolves and zoologists, could indeed subsist on a diet consisting entirely of mice. Though Mowat’s version, unlike that of the wolves, involved a great deal of the grain alcohol that he’d brought along for preserving specimens…

    Reply
  57. P.S. And there’s always Farley Mowat’s recipe for “Mouse Mousse” in NEVER CRY WOLF. His goal was to prove that large carnivores, like wolves and zoologists, could indeed subsist on a diet consisting entirely of mice. Though Mowat’s version, unlike that of the wolves, involved a great deal of the grain alcohol that he’d brought along for preserving specimens…

    Reply
  58. P.S. And there’s always Farley Mowat’s recipe for “Mouse Mousse” in NEVER CRY WOLF. His goal was to prove that large carnivores, like wolves and zoologists, could indeed subsist on a diet consisting entirely of mice. Though Mowat’s version, unlike that of the wolves, involved a great deal of the grain alcohol that he’d brought along for preserving specimens…

    Reply
  59. P.S. And there’s always Farley Mowat’s recipe for “Mouse Mousse” in NEVER CRY WOLF. His goal was to prove that large carnivores, like wolves and zoologists, could indeed subsist on a diet consisting entirely of mice. Though Mowat’s version, unlike that of the wolves, involved a great deal of the grain alcohol that he’d brought along for preserving specimens…

    Reply
  60. P.S. And there’s always Farley Mowat’s recipe for “Mouse Mousse” in NEVER CRY WOLF. His goal was to prove that large carnivores, like wolves and zoologists, could indeed subsist on a diet consisting entirely of mice. Though Mowat’s version, unlike that of the wolves, involved a great deal of the grain alcohol that he’d brought along for preserving specimens…

    Reply
  61. Good gracious on the strange food!
    I do remember someone recommending a dish to me once. I heard “squashed moose pie” and wasn’t impressed.
    It was “squash mousse pie.”
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  62. Good gracious on the strange food!
    I do remember someone recommending a dish to me once. I heard “squashed moose pie” and wasn’t impressed.
    It was “squash mousse pie.”
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  63. Good gracious on the strange food!
    I do remember someone recommending a dish to me once. I heard “squashed moose pie” and wasn’t impressed.
    It was “squash mousse pie.”
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  64. Good gracious on the strange food!
    I do remember someone recommending a dish to me once. I heard “squashed moose pie” and wasn’t impressed.
    It was “squash mousse pie.”
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  65. Good gracious on the strange food!
    I do remember someone recommending a dish to me once. I heard “squashed moose pie” and wasn’t impressed.
    It was “squash mousse pie.”
    Jo 🙂

    Reply
  66. I know a couple of comedians who run regular laughing sessions for people suffering from depression, stress and other ailments. People get together and laugh and it though it starts out a bit forced, it usually turns into real laughter — and sometimes spills over into tears. It really releases a lot of stress and gets the endorphins going. One of these days I’m going to go along and try it. I think it’s fascinating.

    Reply
  67. I know a couple of comedians who run regular laughing sessions for people suffering from depression, stress and other ailments. People get together and laugh and it though it starts out a bit forced, it usually turns into real laughter — and sometimes spills over into tears. It really releases a lot of stress and gets the endorphins going. One of these days I’m going to go along and try it. I think it’s fascinating.

    Reply
  68. I know a couple of comedians who run regular laughing sessions for people suffering from depression, stress and other ailments. People get together and laugh and it though it starts out a bit forced, it usually turns into real laughter — and sometimes spills over into tears. It really releases a lot of stress and gets the endorphins going. One of these days I’m going to go along and try it. I think it’s fascinating.

    Reply
  69. I know a couple of comedians who run regular laughing sessions for people suffering from depression, stress and other ailments. People get together and laugh and it though it starts out a bit forced, it usually turns into real laughter — and sometimes spills over into tears. It really releases a lot of stress and gets the endorphins going. One of these days I’m going to go along and try it. I think it’s fascinating.

    Reply
  70. I know a couple of comedians who run regular laughing sessions for people suffering from depression, stress and other ailments. People get together and laugh and it though it starts out a bit forced, it usually turns into real laughter — and sometimes spills over into tears. It really releases a lot of stress and gets the endorphins going. One of these days I’m going to go along and try it. I think it’s fascinating.

    Reply
  71. Now that’s something I’d like to try. Reminds me of the comedy clubs. I’m wondering if they’re cheaper though 😉
    Oh, and Tal? I think I’ll pass on the mole and mouse mousse…I’d rather eat roots and berries. I can’t eat ‘cute’ things. And no! I don’t want to hear it. If I had to look a cow in the eye before I ate it, I’d starve.
    Jo, I’m curious what else your research told you. Were there other ethnicities mentioned? Other nations?

    Reply
  72. Now that’s something I’d like to try. Reminds me of the comedy clubs. I’m wondering if they’re cheaper though 😉
    Oh, and Tal? I think I’ll pass on the mole and mouse mousse…I’d rather eat roots and berries. I can’t eat ‘cute’ things. And no! I don’t want to hear it. If I had to look a cow in the eye before I ate it, I’d starve.
    Jo, I’m curious what else your research told you. Were there other ethnicities mentioned? Other nations?

    Reply
  73. Now that’s something I’d like to try. Reminds me of the comedy clubs. I’m wondering if they’re cheaper though 😉
    Oh, and Tal? I think I’ll pass on the mole and mouse mousse…I’d rather eat roots and berries. I can’t eat ‘cute’ things. And no! I don’t want to hear it. If I had to look a cow in the eye before I ate it, I’d starve.
    Jo, I’m curious what else your research told you. Were there other ethnicities mentioned? Other nations?

    Reply
  74. Now that’s something I’d like to try. Reminds me of the comedy clubs. I’m wondering if they’re cheaper though 😉
    Oh, and Tal? I think I’ll pass on the mole and mouse mousse…I’d rather eat roots and berries. I can’t eat ‘cute’ things. And no! I don’t want to hear it. If I had to look a cow in the eye before I ate it, I’d starve.
    Jo, I’m curious what else your research told you. Were there other ethnicities mentioned? Other nations?

    Reply
  75. Now that’s something I’d like to try. Reminds me of the comedy clubs. I’m wondering if they’re cheaper though 😉
    Oh, and Tal? I think I’ll pass on the mole and mouse mousse…I’d rather eat roots and berries. I can’t eat ‘cute’ things. And no! I don’t want to hear it. If I had to look a cow in the eye before I ate it, I’d starve.
    Jo, I’m curious what else your research told you. Were there other ethnicities mentioned? Other nations?

    Reply
  76. I went and saw Menopause the Musical the other night with a bunch of girls and I cried so much with laughter I had salt dried on my face and my sides were aching in the morning.
    Laughing’s the best medicine.
    And grinning to me implies cheek and mischief as opposed to outright humour.

    Reply
  77. I went and saw Menopause the Musical the other night with a bunch of girls and I cried so much with laughter I had salt dried on my face and my sides were aching in the morning.
    Laughing’s the best medicine.
    And grinning to me implies cheek and mischief as opposed to outright humour.

    Reply
  78. I went and saw Menopause the Musical the other night with a bunch of girls and I cried so much with laughter I had salt dried on my face and my sides were aching in the morning.
    Laughing’s the best medicine.
    And grinning to me implies cheek and mischief as opposed to outright humour.

    Reply
  79. I went and saw Menopause the Musical the other night with a bunch of girls and I cried so much with laughter I had salt dried on my face and my sides were aching in the morning.
    Laughing’s the best medicine.
    And grinning to me implies cheek and mischief as opposed to outright humour.

    Reply
  80. I went and saw Menopause the Musical the other night with a bunch of girls and I cried so much with laughter I had salt dried on my face and my sides were aching in the morning.
    Laughing’s the best medicine.
    And grinning to me implies cheek and mischief as opposed to outright humour.

    Reply
  81. I agree that a smile can change a whole day. I (like most of the known world) hate Monday mornings.One Monday I noticed my class of third graders were quiet and grumpy so on a whim I decided to greet each child with a the words “happy Monday” and boy was I surprised! Their faces lit up and it cheered me up as well. It’s now a bit of a tradition, and if I forget I get 15 students wishing me a “Happy Monday”! It certainly makes my day brighter!

    Reply
  82. I agree that a smile can change a whole day. I (like most of the known world) hate Monday mornings.One Monday I noticed my class of third graders were quiet and grumpy so on a whim I decided to greet each child with a the words “happy Monday” and boy was I surprised! Their faces lit up and it cheered me up as well. It’s now a bit of a tradition, and if I forget I get 15 students wishing me a “Happy Monday”! It certainly makes my day brighter!

    Reply
  83. I agree that a smile can change a whole day. I (like most of the known world) hate Monday mornings.One Monday I noticed my class of third graders were quiet and grumpy so on a whim I decided to greet each child with a the words “happy Monday” and boy was I surprised! Their faces lit up and it cheered me up as well. It’s now a bit of a tradition, and if I forget I get 15 students wishing me a “Happy Monday”! It certainly makes my day brighter!

    Reply
  84. I agree that a smile can change a whole day. I (like most of the known world) hate Monday mornings.One Monday I noticed my class of third graders were quiet and grumpy so on a whim I decided to greet each child with a the words “happy Monday” and boy was I surprised! Their faces lit up and it cheered me up as well. It’s now a bit of a tradition, and if I forget I get 15 students wishing me a “Happy Monday”! It certainly makes my day brighter!

    Reply
  85. I agree that a smile can change a whole day. I (like most of the known world) hate Monday mornings.One Monday I noticed my class of third graders were quiet and grumpy so on a whim I decided to greet each child with a the words “happy Monday” and boy was I surprised! Their faces lit up and it cheered me up as well. It’s now a bit of a tradition, and if I forget I get 15 students wishing me a “Happy Monday”! It certainly makes my day brighter!

    Reply

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