Divided by a Common Language – –

Jack sprints over the line with his Wednesday guest post – –

It may have been when we were traveling all over the country promoting Wendy’s book about our bookstore that we drove up through Ohio and decided to visit her aunt. We knew that we needed to turn left off the main road just after a railroad crossing but didn’t realize that were two of these fairly close. We took the wrong one and got lost!

Shortly after that a police car drew up and Wendy sent me over to talk to him. As soon as he heard my voice he said his name was Livingston and I said that’s a town in Scotland. We got into a conversation about where his folks might have originated. He got on the phone to his office and quickly established where Wendy’s aunt Lelah’s house was. Then he put his flashing lights on and conducted us right to her door.

A couple of years later we were booked for a festival in West Virginia but I didn’t realize as we left early in the morning to head into Kentucky for another gig that the speed limits were different. I was driving and Wendy was dozing as I noticed flashing lights behind. Should I stop, I asked her? We were driving the car we owned and left for us to use when in the US that was legally registered by her parents, but my driver license was British.

At that time a British driver license was a very large piece of pink paper folded up into a small space.

I’m sure you can imagine the conversation that started with – keep your hands on the wheel – –

As I moved from keeping my hands on the wheel to gripping it ever more tightly he was trying to make sense of someone with a British license driving a car with Tennessee plates speeding in Kentucky and with no photo ID! Wendy eventually had to start interpreting and translating. The cop headed back to his car shaking his head.

After quite a long time he came back, carefully folded my license and said this is far too much trouble, but remember it’s 65 in Kentucky!

It can sometimes be helpful to have a Scottish accent and other times not so much.

Combined Interests Increase Interest

Almost a year ago now my “it’s complicated” sister Nora talked me into joining a gym–and then actually going to the classes. It turned out to be both fun and useful, which is a pleasant combination.

This one is Mullein

This past January, I signed up for an herbalism course. (I like my pastimes to be fun and useful.) I don’t talk about herbs online because, after waxing eloquent about the joys of canning food grown in my very own garden, people assumed I was a prepper. Why feed that fire?

No, today I would like to talk about how to combine interests for maximum benefit. About midway through my HIIT aerobics class (which stands for something like High Impact, Intensity Terminal) my energy was flagging. My brain, seeking a way to keep me engaged, came up with “Ever notice how much this workout resembles herbal foraging?”

For instance, that kettle weight we swing up in the air above our heads, then down between our knees in a controlled movement? Have you ever had a basket full of meadowsweet you’re trying to shake loose from bees? Up, down, gentle, don’t overdo it, bye bye bee. Perfect!

Then there’s the speed skater exercise, also a very controlled movement, yet swift. You flex one leg and touch the ground with one hand, the other extended high in the air. Immediately I knew what this was: Is This Goldenseal? The move is so quick, the other hand so distracting, you could swoop in and harvest the elusive stuff before anyone noticed, not alerting them to the presence of this endangered herb. (Dear herbalists, yes, I know. Let it go, k?)

The Side Dumbell exercise (a gentle deep squat with weights in each hand, arms straight, slow and steady to an upright stand, then down again) is actually the I Have Two Baskets Full of Berries and There is a Bear Coming. You lower the baskets to the ground, stand, and back slowly in a reverse high knee march. (Two exercises in one!) The bear eats the berries instead of you. All is well.

This one isn’t

Perhaps my favorite Aerobics-cum-Foraging moment is the Mountain Climber. This is a frenzied movement in which you jog while pretending your hands are scaling the Eiger without benefit of ropes. Nay, gentle friends. We are not simulating determination to scale a peak because it is there; rather it is the frenetic dance of some amateur whose friend checked the plant ID app and declared of some non-flowering small spring thing,”It’s 82% likely to be Mullein.”

The rookie stuffs a leaf in her mouth, just as her phone-bearing pal says, “Oh wait. It could be Foxglove.” The Climber exercise is then performed by both forager and friend, as the latter tries to beat off the resulting attack once the plant is confirmed as Mullein.

See? Combining interests maximizes utility and enjoyment. You’re welcome.