Liver–LIOLI (Love it or loathe it?)

This month two of M.R.’s LIOLI (Love it or loathe it) challenge.  We’ve gone from the somewhat sublime (flying) to the more plebeian (notice I avoided the word “ridiculous”)–liver.  I decided to check in with a few friends to get their opinion.  Here were their reactions.

M.R. asked, “D’you love it or loathe it?”
and I knew I would have to disclose it.
The subject was liver
But I’d nothing to give her
So instead I asked who opposed it.

The cannibal when asked about liver,
Said with a bit of a shiver,
“You must avoid drinkers.
Their livers are stinkers.”
Then he paddled away down the river.

My grandma while resting her bunions
Confessed she liked liver with onions
“When eaten just plain
It gives me a pain
And I’d rather partake of fried grunions.”

Whenever the meal was liver
Joe always slipped Dusty a sliver.
Then one day she barked
And had such a bad fart
It set all their noses aquiver.

Writing poems, limericks in this case, about liver isn’t easy as there are very few words that actually rhyme with liver. I resorted to checking online in case I’d missed any and found these: river, quiver, liver, giver (or “give her” that I eventually came up with), shiver, deliver, downriver, plus the names of almost every “river” in the world, such as “Amazon River”, Mississippi River”, etc., etc. etc. “Onions”, a natural companion to “liver”, has almost as bad a problem: bunion, bunyan, grunion, munyan, munyon, runnion, runyan, runyon, Paul Bunyan. At least the rhymes for “liver” are fairly normal words. So I did my humble best with what I had to work with. As for me, my experience is that it all depends how the liver is cooked. It can be delicious (crunchy on the outside and tender inside) or stringy. And I, with Grandma, prefer mine with onions and, with the cannibal, my drink on the side.

LIOLI (Love it or loathe it?) #1…flying

Love it or loathe it.  That’s M. R.’s new, once-monthly challenge and her first topic is “flying.”

Do I love or loathe flying?

Yes.

I like driving; like seeing the country change, working my way towards each evening’s new destination, seeing new things (and on our annual pilgrimage to Wyoming, beloved, familiar things.)  I love being able to stop for look, a meal, a walk, a bathroom break; being able to listen to “Lord of the Rings” for the 30^th time or to Bill’s favorite CD of the drive yet again…or maybe not); love the time talking together on a family trip or time to relax and think when on my own; like having transportation when I get to my destination.

But sometimes I need the days or find it difficult to drive (such as across any given ocean.)  Then flying is a blessing.

I’ve said to others that flying isn’t much fun anymore, that the rules and regulations and security make it a pain and that’s all true to some extent.  Yet I find that when I’m at the airport with enough time to not worry about why the line isn’t moving and I’ve figured out just the right way to store everything for easiest removal and least hassle…and when one glorious time I’m shunted into the expedited line where it’s just like “the good old days”…I really like flying.

I like watching people at the airport.  I chat to people as I wait in line; I pull my carry-on bag on endless laps after security to get some exercise before boarding.  I search for a Starbucks for my tea, read from my Kindle, take surreptitious photos (half expecting the heavy hand of security on my shoulder, wondering whether I’m a terrorist scout), pull out my notebook and jot ideas for a blog post or story.  Relax.

Once on the plane, I slide into my aisle seat (yes, less space under the seat ahead of me but easy access to walk around or get to the bathroom) and pray for either an empty middle seat, unlikely these days, or a slender person.  I look out the windows, have orange juice a/o water when asked or water for the tea bag I bring along and bring out my food (or eat Southwest’s free snacks.)  I read…or write…or think…and yes, chat…rarely sleep.

Upon arrival, I’m in that new place or the familiar place, waiting for friends or family or ready to make my way to the train station for another bit of travel first.

I admit that if I’d been stuck in the airport for several days because of a blizzard or other cause, had my luggage lost or one of the other myriad problems that can strike an air traveler, I might feel differently.   It seems t me that overall, most people have, at the very leas,t uneventful trips most of the time.  I even had the exhilarating experience once of flying from Denver to Sheridan, Wyoming in a 14-passenger (more or less) plane.  The co-pilot handed out cans of drinks and offered me his seat in the front for a bit so that I could take some photos.  It was a grand view and I thought that if we had a problem, we could likely land on the interstate unwinding below us.  Fortunately,we didn’t have to test that theory.

So…love it or loathe it?  I’d have to say that I weigh in on the love end of the spectrum.  Not sure I’d be as excited about space travel, but the magic pixie dust of adventure still gilds the planes for me, especially when I fly Southwest and my bags fly free.