by be. aaron
Paisley
Freeso
Penny
Sam & Dave
Vera, Chuck & Dave
Peeve
Lana
Evelyn Champagne King
Hairy
Iggy
Nosey
Bruno
Hattie
Humbert (Humbert)
Imelda
Imogen
Kitty
Maurice
Ernesto
Marcello
Perry
Callooh
Callay
Mavis
Dino
and my personal favorite,
which I may later rescind for my own use,
Inez.
chez carole jardins
by be.aaron, copywriter extraordinaire and conceptual gardener
For those of you who, like me, imagine the joy of working in the garden but prefer to loll about in the a.c. of your hut instead…
dahlia
allee
pergola 
gazebo
espalier
bougainvillea
rudbeckia
hollyhocks
wisteria 
by be.aaron, copywriter extraordinaire 
Pamplemousse
Atachatfas
Aioli
Guanciale
Bouillabaisse
Sardinas Plancha
Rhubarb
Sorbeta
Kulfi
Thali
Txakoli
Cava
Rosado
Cafe con leche
by be.aaron
My worst nightmares have already come true.
by Betsy Aaron
Maybe it’s the influence of Mercury in retrograde, when things from the past purportedly pop up, or perhaps it’s my current search for work, which compels me to waste time daily by checking out my horoscope on as many sites as it takes until I find an affirming message, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my early days when I worked as a freelance writer/producer for many cable networks.
I worked most happily at Nickelodeon as part of a stellar creative team and what made it so rewarding–believe me, it was not the money (I wrote one :30 for Nick-At-Nite that ran for a year and I was paid $300 for it!)– was that I always asked to think and do my best.
One of the writers there shared his formula for success: happy-sad. Everything he did made viewers laugh but also invited them to connect in a heartfelt way. Since then, I’ve often used happy-sad to inform my commercial work and whenever appropriate, I’ve passed it on.
I am re-entering the world of broadcast media after a hiatus and the process has been daunting. I’ve had to do a lot of soul-searching about the choices I’ve made and what I want to be doing next. In the course of this exercise, I’ve been able to identify my own personal formula — which I call fun-scary.
More often than not, I’ve lived without a safety net. I’ve said yes to lots of risky projects and ventures and I’ve had to wonder whether or not I am allergic to security and routine. What propels me is curiosity, challenge, the desire for experience, the same things that get me to sit still long enough to enter the fiction zone.
Writing is probably the most fun-scary of experiences. To the list I would add: launching new cable networks with crazy deadlines, and sometimes for crazy people. Swimming in the ocean is fun-scary too. One minute you’re floating on your back, the next, you narrowly miss taking a pounding in a crashing wave or you suddenly notice that you’ve been carried out by a riptide. Delight, meet terror. The first time I did a headstand in yoga was fun-scary, and it made me laugh out loud. First-time experiences often deliver the jolt of fun-scary. Some people call this beginner’s mind, it’s a state of focus, clarity and open-mindedness that guides you — without the negative expectation that might come from past experience, towards a successful outcome.
I recently had a new sexual experience, which, at this point, I didn’t think was still possible. I don’t mean to be a tease but further details would definitely be a case of over-sharing. It was completely fun-scary– but alas, in this context, newness has the shortest of shelf-lives.
I would have to add India to the top of my fun-scary list. I had no frame of reference for it and no expectations; every second of it was new and beyond my imagination.
The first day of kindergarten: fun, not scary. A life-threatening disease: scary, not fun. Putting stuff out there on this blog: fun-scary.
by Betsy Aaron
At some point, I think in the 70’s, people started referring to unresolved events from the past as baggage. I don’t know whether it’s my genetic predisposition, the influence of astrology or the true essence of my personality but I like to travel light. Even so, there are some books that I’ve been carting around my entire life, their first sentences remaining clear and distinct in my memory despite the accumulation of clutter that I have acquired with time and experience.
“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins.”
This of course from Nabakov’s Lolita. I acquired my very used paperback edition for one dollar when I was college. I am not a recent graduate. I will always remember this sentence and also, the person who first recited it to me.
“Call me Ishmael.”
Simple, memorable, imperative and written in the 1st person. Ishmael was a writer. I wish I could be more imperative– it’s not like I’m telling you what to do but really, everyone should read Moby Dick.
My copy is a nice, new hardcover Modern Library edition which sits on my shelves in the company of my father’s decayed Modern Library books which he bought pre-and-post WWII. Some of my father’s books are not much more than mold, dust and dessicated glue but he died young and what’s left of his library, including some books from his childhood, are still tangible, vivid, alive.
“It was a dark and stormy night.”
From Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time.
This was one of my first library books and I am sure I read it too fast because even at that age, I was compelled to action by threat of impending deadlines and I wanted to return the book ASAP before its due date. This winter, after finishing the new translation of War and Peace (I gloat,) I re-read it, for refreshment. It was better the first time around, perhaps because my critical facility, which then had no wear and tear, was sharper, or perhaps because I’d brought urgency to the task of reading: it was my first experience with a page-turner. I am now reading Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter and I know it’s hard to believe but this 1100 page novel about a woman’s life in fourteenth century Norway is also a page-turner.
“Betsy lay in her white bed.”
From “B” is for Betsy” by Carolyn Haywood.
I doubt that anyone else out there has read this one and continues to cart it around. It was given to me at age five and I consider this book to be one of the reasons I became a writer. First of all, my name is in the title. Second of all, we both had a best friend named Ellen. And now, I am astonished to find that, just like the Betsy-in-the-book, I have a cocker spaniel. When my father died, my mother sold most of the contents of the house I grew up in and this was one of the books, along with some of his, that I was able to rescue.
by be.aaron
An Ambivalent Spiel
Since I am not a semiotician, typographer or graphic designer, I have to ask: why is the ampersand (a word I like,) now so often, and improperly, replaced by the plus sign? As you know, and does not always equal plus; precise meaning is often defined by context– and in no way can the two always be used interchangeably.
So why am I ambivalent? I have to admit, I’ve been experimenting ( see above revised tagline) and I find that the + sign is far sexier looking than the stodgy &. Is this trend, like Arial becoming the new Helvetica, an Internet-influenced design choice?
I suspect that replacing the & with +, irrespective of meaning, is the equivalent of answering the phone with“Hey” instead of “Hello.” A lot of my friends are parents who have adopted “Hey” so that their children will be more inclined to take their calls.
I don’t want Andy Rooney’s turf if/when he should ever retire/die (will he ever do either?) but I do want to come out here and now and admit that I find “Hey” annoying. It’s unnecessarily abrupt: I don’t have headphones on, I am listening to you. Worse, it’s too obviously co-opted from someone much younger than you. When you say “hey” to your kids, students, employees, they still think you are hopeless. Can we please agree that “Hey” is so over?
For now though, I think it might be okay to use + instead of & – as long as you mean what you say.
by Betsy Aaron, Procrastinator Extraordinaire
The word this week is macerate. I like to think of it as passive prep; the food does the work for you. You can stew in your own juices while your procrastinate as long as you want and you’ll produce nothing more than your own fine funkitude but when you slice strawberries, sprinkle them with the tiniest hit of sugar, and let them sit all morning, all afternoon, even on into the evening, they produce a beautiful berry sauce that’s perfect over ice-cream, or my fave, on angel food cake, which acts like a sponge.
Maceration sounds vaguely sexual, another reason to enjoy this word. When you macerate fruit, you barely need to masticate. Whatever you do after dessert is up to you.
The maceration process works well with tomatoes too. Just cut them into small chunks, pour olive oil over them, add some mashed garlic, salt +pepper, perhaps some torn basil, and let them macerate. When it’s time for dinner, you’ve got salsa fresca.
Muddling is a close cousin to macerating but requires a bit more muscle. You can muddle mint for mojitos or limes for margaritas. But you can’t have one sip of these fine summer drinks until you’ve finished your work.
