Want to listen to a podcast/audio version of Happiness Between Tails? Click the Spotify podcast link above. And please give it a follow.
Here’s a reminder for anyone who wants to help Shira help us all do better to make the world a better place for everyone. She was first a guest at Happiness Between Tails H-E-R-E.
Project Do Better presents a vision of a world in which we all work toward a full safety net, and a better tomorrow, for all of us.
I have a request to make:
I believe that planning ahead is a good idea, so:
We need, still, a better central portal set up for the project (any volunteers to do that, please?). This temporary page works for now, I guess, maybe?
Oh, and a logo, please, although a friend of a friend may be working on this, not verified yet.
The sections, of my nonfiction WiP Do Better, every Wondering Wednesday, seek to build…
Horses are wonderful!!! Not that I really know much about them, aside from how beautiful they are, the little I’ve learned from TV — and thanks to fellow bloggers. (Certified self-avowed Horse Addict Anne Leueen is one such blogger.) As far as I’m concerned, Mary Lynne Carpenter (creator of The Backyard Horse Blog: Living The Dream and The Reality of Keeping Horses at Home) has won the lottery — she has backyard horses! The very idea sets my mind reeling at how fun that must be. Surely my doggie would love having a companion and accompanying her people outdoors far more than she gets to these days. Not that I’d be picky, but if I had one, perhaps it would be nice if it were not too big… and if it was black… with a little white!… to go with my existing four-legged sweet family.
Whoa Bessie — again, sure I know nothing about horse husbandry. And yes, I’ve left out that we live in the big city in a) a small house with b) a backyard the size of — what? — more insignificant than an Olympic-sized swimming pool? No worries — I’m living my vicarious whimsy through Mary Lynne. Home for her is somewhere in the United States, among equestrian pals. She writes about their dreamy as well as sometimes challenging times together for various horse publications and sites, plus her own new blog. Here she shares a sliver of the bitter-sweet heaven-on-earth backyard part of backyard horse ownership…
Mary Lynne with her horse, Pumpkin Spice. Photo by her friend, Nancy.
I first saw the nest out of the corner of my eye. It fell to the ground as I rode my lawnmower past a tree branch. The nest’s appearance stopped me cold on that warm Spring day. The nest’s maker selected chestnut-colored horse’s hair as its main ingredient. I keep my horses at home, so it is not unusual for me to find these horse-hair nests. The birds take discarded strands of mane and tail that they find lying in the pasture or snubbed up on a fence post where a horse scratched an itch. I marveled at how resourceful and industrious the birds are. I never built anything in my life except for building a mess.
At the time I found the nest, I didn’t have any chestnut-colored horses. I puzzled over the situation. Then it hit me. My horse, Pumpkin Spice, was chestnut-colored. Spice was euthanized the year before due to an illness. That means that Spice’s hair had been collected from my pasture while he still lived in it. Unbeknown to me, the nest clung to the tree branches for almost a year after Spice’s death.
Pumpkin Spice’s horsehair reincarnated into a bird’s nest. Photo by Mary Lynne Carpenter.
Happening upon the nest was like running unexpectedly into a friend from the past. A reunion tinged with sadness for all that was lost. Yet a welcomed and treasured event nonetheless. Spice was such as kind horse, so relaxing to be around. I enjoyed his company very much. While I still miss him terribly, I see that parts of him live on not only in my heart. In a practical way, his hair helped house the new life of another even after his own death. How fitting that the nest, in the shape of a circle, also symbolizes the circle of life.
What sort of horse might you keep in your backyard?…
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Cold, sweet, and creamy! Heck yeah! All those sound absolutely refreshing any time of the year here in Los Angeles. Summer heat, though, especially makes me want to dip my toes into a whispering stream, to nap, or to sip iced coffee along the shore.
Enter ice cream! Better yet, frozen yogurt, because more people can tolerate it, and yogurt’s healthy probiotics withstand freezing. Here’ my sweeter-than-frozen-yogurt husband’s version of sheer indulgence. The photos and captions are by me. (Enjoy more of his recipes here and here and here and here and here and here.)
From any angle, this scoop grins for you!
Banana Blueberry Frozen Delight Recipe by Khashayar Parsi
* European style yogurt, plain full fat, 32 oz.
* Honey, 1.5 cups.
* Banana, 1 large and ripe.
* Blueberries, frozen, half a pound
* Butter, half an average stick.
1. Line a pasta-sized strainer with cheesecloth and and spoon the yogurt into it. Set it over a bowl deep enough to collect the water away from the yogurt while it drains and thickens in the fridge for twelve hours.
Step 1: Save the resulting fabulous liquid, a.k.a. whey, to later enhance everything from drinks and smoothies to soups and bread baking.
2. Cook the berries on low heat to reduce the juice out of the fruit for about thirty minutes.
Step 2: Frozen berries are picked at the height of their season.
3. In a large bowl, use a hand blender to combine the banana, honey, and butter. Add in the thick yogurt and fruit.
Step 3A: Ingredients other than yogurt and berries.
Step 3b: A blend of all but berries and yogurt.
Step 3c: Super dynamite yogurt meets blended tasty fruit and stuff.
Step 3d: Everything stirred together, except the berries. Sorry, I forgot to get a photo of the last step of combining berries into everything.
4. Leave in freezer for 24 hours and serve.
Step 4: Use the yogurt container to freeze the total mix in. On colder days, it tastes amazing at room temperature, too!
What kind of weather makes you want something creamy and chilly?
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Straying from the path isn’t advised at Craters of the Moon, Taupo, New Zealand.
Heat and steam from below percolate up to uncork land, leaving behind jagged craters, some of them huge. Visitors are told, not asked, to keep to the trails, lest they become boiled and billowed…
Do you have craters near you?
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Given how I plan to soon publish novels of my own, (“Flamenco & the Sitting Cat will be my debut one) the definition of heaven for me is anything to do with books! Blogger/writer Rosalind Barden’s guest blog post about Angels Flight — well, that’s heaven + books!…
“Angels Flight: Best Fun for a Buck in Los Angeles!” by Rosalind Barden
A character in my humorous noir mystery, “Sparky of Bunker Hill and the Cold Kid Case,” set in Depression-era Downtown Los Angeles, isn’t a person at all, but a funky funicular railway, Angels Flight.
Over a hundred years old, the funicular’s two cars chug from the top of Bunker Hill to the Downtown flatlands.It still exists thanks to the funicular’s fans who campaigned to save it from the wrecking ball in the 1960s when historic Bunker Hill was leveled.It was disassembled and packed away for decades, then pieced together in the 1990s on the reconfigured Bunker Hill, a half block from its original location.Sadly, a fatal accident shuttered the funicular again.The fans never left, and owing to their love, time and money, Angels Flight reopened in 2017.
Billed as the world’s shortest railway, it actually isn’t, though it is plenty short.The delight begins when boarding at the arch at the bottom of Bunker Hill, across from historic Grand Central Market at Fourth and Hill Streets, or at the matching station and wheelhouse at the top of Bunker Hill.The two orange and black cars are a delight of Beaux Arts design from an earlier, more exuberant time.The gleaming wooden interiors are each shaped like a staircase to conform to the slant of the hill.Riders sit in benches along either side.
The bell dings, and the car creaks to life. Then it merrily clanks along the track. Half the fun is listening to the reactions of fellow passengers as they oh and ah, or watching those silently smiling, lost in thought. The pace is slow, allowing time to detach from Downtown’s bustle and relax. For only a dollar, it’s a ride guaranteed to lift the mood.
Photo of Rosalind Barden by Diane Edmonds.
About Rosalind Barden: In addition to blogging, she writes mystery, sci-fi and horror with a sense of humor. “Sparky of Bunker Hill and the Cold Kid Case” is her new, wacky noir young adult mystery set in Depression-era Los Angeles. Find out more about her and her books here.
What’s your favorite historical site where you live?
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Today, we visited Huka Falls, where water waits for no one!
Up to 220,000 liters (just under 5,300 gallons) of water rush down the series of falls per second. They begin at New Zealand’s longest river (Waikato River) and drain the country’s largest lake (Lake Taupo).
Panoramic of Huka Falls bridge, New Zealand by Khashayar Parsi.
Have you visited any waterfalls?
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Rotorua is lovely, including its historic district.
Breath in! That rousing scent, which is e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e (even where no water is visible), is that of healing minerals permeating the air! In unscientific terms, New Zealand is the result of volcanic activity. Hence, the region teams with gurgling springs from where steam plumes and billows. Some are pleasingly warm to soak one’s body in, others are hot enough to cook in.
During the late 1800s, officials saw tourism money in those spas. They erected buildings, planted gardens, smoothed out sports greens, and more — all with the intent of creating a resort destination.
Here’s the historic district built in the late 1800s/early 1900s, which still attracts busloads of visitors…
Elsewhere in Rotorua is a marae, a Māori meeting grounds complex set within a residential neighborhood. If you ever find yourself at one, remember that visitors must be formally invited inside.
A Māori meeting house in Rotorua.
Rotorua’s current mayor is Steve Chadwick, a long-time politician born Stephanie Anne Frizzell, was into her 60s when she was elected into office.
Who are the indigenous people where you live?
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
The site here in Auckland is actually three cinder cones, two of them filled in by the last one. Auckland is a lovely city filled with great restaurants with menus from all over the world — and great independent bookstores!
Auckland has some great independent bookstores, like this one!
Claire and Sam (our hostess and her golden retriever), along with her young neighbor (and the darling girl’s black dog), were all very welcoming. To stay at Claire’s lovely B&B, email her at duncan5@xtra.co.nz or call her at 0274512691
Khashayar, hostess Claire, and a charming young neighbor with da-AL.
So much to do in too little time …
da-AL at non-active crater, Mount Eden, Auckland, New Zealand.
“Flamenco & the Sitting Cat” is the title of the first of my soon-to-be self-published novels. The ‘Sitting Cat’ part of the title refers to the geographical shape of Iran…
Map of Iran outlined in the shape of a Sitting Cat.
I grew up with only classical music — and flamenco music and dance. My father, who left Barcelona in his mid-20s, wanted it that way. Since I left home at 18, it’s a gift to watch any type of dance I like and to listen to every kind of music that comes my way.
Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam respectfully and lovingly fuses dance cultures.
I still love classical — and flamenco! Especially fascinating to me is when flamenco is fused with the dance of Iran, where my husband was raised. Shahrokh Moshkin Ghalam is an Iranian dancer now residing in France. Flamenco is as much about individuality as it is about technique — it accommodates all cultures, all forms of beauty.
If only politics were as intent on creating a climate of ‘we’ rather than an ‘us vs. them’!
My doggie and I were at her vet’s office, waiting for her anal glands to be expressed (eeeewwww!!!! indeedy) when we saw this anonymous missive posted on the doctor’s wall:
Pug photo by Ryan McGuire altered by da-AL
Dear God,
Is it on purpose that our names are the same, only reversed?
When we Dogs get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it the same old story?
Why are cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit — yet not for a Dog? How often do you see cougars riding around? We Dogs love nice rides. Would it be so hard to rename the “Chrysler Eagle” to the Chrysler Beagle”?
If a Dog barks her or his head off in the forest and no human hears, are they still a bad Dog?
Detail of pug photo by Ryan McGuire
Things we Dogs can understand:
– Human verbal instructions
– Hand signals
– Whistles
– Horns
– Clickers
– Beepers
– Scent IDs
– Electromagnetic energy fields
– Frisbee flight paths
What do humans understand?
Please, more meatballs, less spaghetti.
Are there postal carriers in heaven? If so, will I have to apologize?
Why do humans smell flowers yet seldom if ever, smell one another?
Detail of pug photo by Ryan McGuire
It’s not easy being a Good Dog. Here are some of the things I must remember:
– I will not eat the cat’s food before they eat it or after they throw it up.
– I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, or other beautiful things just because I like the way they smell.
– The litter box is not a cookie jar.
– The sofa is not a face towel.
– The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff.
– I will not play tug-of-war with Dad’s underwear while he sits on the toilet.
– Sticking my nose into someone’s crotch is an unacceptable way to say “hello.”
– I don’t need to suddenly stand straight up when I’m under the coffee table.
– I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house — not after.
– I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.
– I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch.
– The cat is not a squeaky toy. The noise it makes when I play with it is not a good thing.
Sincerely,
Dog
P.S. When I go to heaven, may I have my testicles back?
Photo by Ryan McGuire
Share + Like + Rate + Comment + Follow + Email me at ContactdaAL@gmail.com
Crater at Craters of the Moon, Taupo, New Zealand.
Happiness Between Tails by da-AL 