Sea Monkeys

Today is National Sea Monkey Day. This is a holiday I will NOT be celebrating for reasons I’ll mention later.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

But first, for those who aren’t familiar with Sea Monkeys, they are actually a breed of tiny brine shrimp. They’re sold in egg form together with a whole packet that contains food and chemicals for the tiny tank you need to house them. They were first marketed by Harold von Braunhut in 1957 under the name “Instant Life.” He changed the name in 1962 to “Sea Monkeys” because their movements looked like the playful behavior of monkeys. At least that’s his story. I think he changed the name because “Sea Monkeys” sounds a lot more interesting than “Instant Life.”

Anyway, all of the websites I checked on raising Sea Monkeys claim that caring for Sea Monkeys is easy. All they supposedly need is water, the special food that’s sold for them and the chemicals in the purifier and packets that are part of the Sea Monkey package. They say you can keep a Sea Monkey colony going for up to 2 years since the first group you hatch will lay eggs and continue to proliferate.

In my experience the above paragraph is a bunch of marketing babble. I received a Sea Monkey kit for my birthday when I was in my teens. My friends know how I LOVE monkeys, so the idea of having pets that at least had the name “monkey” was a real thrill for me. I followed the directions that came with the kit absolutely precisely, setting up the tank with the water and the exact amount of chemicals specified. Then I dumped in my eggs. Sure enough, within a day or two I had all these teeny little critters swimming happily around. Then they started to die off. Each morning and evening I would find a few of them floating along the top of the tank, gone to Sea Monkey Heaven.  I found a page in the instruction booklet on how to deal with problems. I did everything it suggested but within a week I had an empty tank.

And that’s why I won’t be celebrating Sea Monkey Day today.

Stretch just shook his head at me when I told him my sad Sea Monkey story.  He said humans spend too much time grousing about past failures and not enough enjoying the fun that’s available for them right now.

He said I should forget about the Sea Monkeys and instead celebrate the other holiday today, “Love a Tree.” He bragged about the awesome trees he has in his expanding arboretum thanks to his friend Judy.  So today he’s taking some plant food mixed with water to them.

And then he’ll stay and visit with them while he stuffs his own little face.

I think as always he has the right idea! So maybe I’ll go hug a tree today.

Spam

(For all those upset because they didn't see Stretch in the family portrait with the giant Spam can, this post has now been edited to include a new photo courtesy of my friend Jenn.)

My friend Jenn recently stirred up a funny memory for me when she was telling me about stashing Spam along her hiking routes.

In 2004 Joe and I drove out West; our route took us through Minnesota and since we love wacky tourist traps we decided to detour to Austin and visit the Spam Museum.

Yes, there is a museum devoted entirely to the history of Spam. And they have an attitude about their museum that I think actually tops Stretch’s ego. Their website states:

“Few experiences in life are as meaningful and meaty-filled as those you’ll have at the magnificent Spam museum. Referred to by some meat historians (who knew there are “meat historians?”) as the Guggenham, Porkopolis or M.O.M.A. (Museum of Meat-Themed Awesomeness).

The museum is located near the actual processing plant for Spam, which you realize as soon as you climb out of your car and a “lovely” aroma hits you. They don’t allow photography inside the museum, so I don’t have any photos of the exhibits which detail the history of Spam in helping us win WWII or the vintage Spam advertising posters describing all the wonderful ways Spam can enhance your meal planning.

But there were photo ops in the lobby such as The Wall of Spam

And of course, the Spam mascot.

Joe was disappointed that they didn’t offer him a free sample since Spam is not a product that graces our cabinet shelves.  But we did get a good tip about a healthier icon from a girl in the gift shop. She directed us to the Green Giant statue in a nearby park.

Stretch says he doesn’t understand why Joe didn’t get a Spam sample. When he visited the plant, they gave him a whole can of Spam.  

The Magic? Forest

In a recent discussion with my friend Paul we somehow got on the topic of fairy tales and how grim the Brothers Grimm could get. That reminded me of a visit Joe and I made to a kiddie park in Lake George a few years ago. My main interest in this park was to see the Diving Horse exhibition, something I'd read about as being popular years ago, but an act that's largely frowned on today. 

When we got to the park a sign at the entrance booth informed us that the horse would not be diving that day, but we decided as long as we were there we would go in anyway and check out the place. I can only describe it as "The Addams Family Meets Mother Goose." I think this place would have given me nightmares as a child.

The park is called "The Magic Forest," but they must have been thinking of black magic when they decided on the name. Along the forest paths, there are characters from Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes that appeared positively demented. Maybe I'm just overly wimpy, but check out these examples of exhibits and see what you think:

Here's Jack Sprat and his lovely wife.

Jack Be Nimble was missing his candlestick so he appeared to be having a spastic fit.

A tall statue of Paul Bunyan looms over a tiny Miss Muffet.
Seems like a spider would be the least of her worries here!

This about sums it up--I felt like I must be out of my mind  to visit this place!

Of course everyone's favorite bear Stretch was smarter than us. Instead of joining us for an eerie buggy walk through the Magic Forest he went up to nearby Lake Placid to tour the 1980 Olympics museum exhibits. 

And he reported that he had a great deal of fun using the model of the ski jumps as a slide.

Meditating Made Easy--If You're A Certain Bear

I am not a visual person. By that I mean I don’t notice things unless I really concentrate on them with a purpose, such as describing them in my writing. As an example of how I don’t pay attention to material things, I once visited a good friend who had recently purchased a new couch. I was at her house at least once a week at that time, and on this visit I sat on her new couch for about 15 minutes before she started laughing and asked, “Don’t you notice anything new in here?”

In a recent blog I spoke about how I enjoy meditation tapes that relax you and have you focus positive energy on healing and spiritual growth. The one difficult part of listening to these tapes is that most of them ask you to visualize your surroundings and most all of them put you in a lush garden at some point. My garden would look like this:

I finally solved this issue when my friend Rosieangelo gave me some really gorgeous photos of lush tropical gardens that I could “memorize” in my mind.

Fans of Stretch can rest easy that he doesn’t have this problem, thanks to his friend Judy Stern. She designed and built him a Meditation Garden he can relax in while he listens to his tapes on his MP3 player. It came complete with the fountain and singing bird that’s also usually mentioned in these recordings.

And if he gets thirsty while he’s relaxing, he can grab a Coke or Pepsi out of his cooler, since another good friend of his, Donna Russell, sent him a case of each soda.

In my next life, I’m coming back as a pampered teddy bear!

Shakespeare vs. Zombies

Tomorrow is the anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birth and death. (Yes, he actually died on his birthday.) I saw this noted on my calendar of special days and it got me thinking about the alumni magazine I received from my college the other day. As I was leafing through it, I came across this rather gross photo of a blood-stained zombie. The headline with the picture read: “Zombies Give Rise to Critical Thinking.”  The article that followed stated:

“The undead are on the rise, not only in popular TV shows but also in contemporary movies. The never-say-die attitude of these timeless monsters is even the subject of a new Excelsior course, ENG 315 Zombies in Literature and Popular Culture.”

The article goes on to say: “Other courses come with prerequisites, but this may be the only Excelsior class that comes with a disclaimer warning students of the inherent violence in the subject matter."

The Dean notes: “by tapping into interesting topics, students are more engaged and consequently have the potential to learn more. . . And while zombies may be fun and interesting, a lot of the questions about what makes you human—what are the differences between you and a zombie—really make you think about who you are, who you want to be, who’s important to you. The College has other popular culture courses in the works. In May, students will be able to sink their teeth into ENG 320 Vampires in Literature and Film, and in the fall a course on pirates is ready to set sail.”

At the risk of sounding like a cranky geezer, EXCUSE ME? With the rising violence in our society, do we really need college courses that come with warnings about how violent the material is? And students will now ponder questions about humanity by studying zombies?
 

I feel sorry for the next generation. Maybe ancient Greek literature, Dante’s Inferno, the plays of Shakespeare, the novels of the early 19^th century in America aren’t “fun and interesting” in the same way as a violent zombie movie. But in my personal opinion, they teach us a lot more about the human race and what’s important than a bunch of bloody zombies.

And Stretch agrees with me on this point. He’s getting ready to celebrate Shakespeare’s birth/death anniversary, by doing a couple vignettes from his famous plays.

“Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your Gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? Quite chap-fallen? (Hamlet)

Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten’d me

Ne’er look’d but on my back; when they shall see

The face of Caeser, they are vanished.

(Julius Caeser) 

Photo courtesy of Stretch's Personal Celebrity Photographer Paul Van Dort.