the friday feed: soup with a reputation

Somebody missed a letter. The most important letter. The entire genre of homemade soup has been changed. 

The whole family and some friends were at dinner for Hallie's birthday weekend. We were on our 3rd bottle of Chianti and my daughter Sara laughed and said, "Mom. You gonna get any soup?" The soup… poor soup. It went from “homemade,” warm and comforting, to “hoemade,” which sounds like it belongs in a completely different establishment entirely. And that was enough for some mildly spicy wordplay. (There were kids around).

Seasoned with a lot of experience.

Been around the pot a few times.

Comfort food for the whole neighborhood.

Seasoned with spice and questionable decisions.

Homemade warms the heart. Hoemade warms the group chat.

And this, my friends, shows the impotence of proofreading 😊

a daffo-dilly of a day

All around town the daffodils have burst out in their full glory. Patches of yellow are everywhere...sunshine on the ground.

 

wednesday's words and wanderings and wonderings

Yesterday's "Oy" computer panic moment turned into a real "DUH" moment with the young tech guru at the Apple store. I explained what was going on and in less than the time it took me to tell him about my computer, he figured out the problem. Somehow I had changed my user screen to the guest user screen. He fixed it with a couple clicks. Gen Z youngster to this ole Boomer's rescue. On my way out of the store, I stopped to ask a customer service rep about phones and ended up buying a new one. A good day for technology!

This past weekend we went to Cleveland for our granddaughter's first birthday party. She turned one at the beginning of March but the party venue's availability was at the end of the month. She sure attacked that birthday cake with enthusiasm, aided by her brother and cousin. Such fun to have family and friends together to celebrate this little lady.

Owen, wearing his dinosaur scooter-riding helmet, gives me his "Thumbs up, you're a cool dude, Didi" approval.

Back in the day, I had a speech disfluency where my "s" came out as a "th" and I took thome thpeech therapy to thtraighten thingth out. When my daughter was little, she had a speech disfluency where the "th" sound came out as as "f." With was wif, think came out as fink. This license plate took me back to her days of working with her speech-language pathologist to fix this fing wif her fs.

This car driver 's sparkling clean white vehicle with the daisy hubcaps is ready to welcome some spring and summer flowers! 

Some kitchen fun - making pickled red onions to put on ground chicken tacos. Pickling softens the onion flavor but adds a little zestiness to balance heavier dishes, like homemade tacos.

oy

 Computer difficulties. Going to see the Apple gurus and crossing fingers to be up and running soon 🤞

monday's mulling_ super powers

Public art. I love it. It’s artwork in any medium - murals, sculpture, installations - created specifically for public spaces, making it accessible to everyone. It transforms shared spaces, tells community stories, boosts local economies, and fosters social cohesion.

While in New York a few years ago "Stand Here to Activate Your Super Powers” was stenciled on the sidewalks all around Manhattan. I stopped for a moment to think about what was it asking. What is my potential for creativity, courage, or purpose?

That stencil is a tiny spell disguised as street art.

The sidewalks of Manhattan are a sea of motion. Shoes tapping, taxis growling, thoughts racing faster than traffic. Then suddenly, there's this quiet interruption: STAND HERE TO ACTIVATE YOUR SUPER POWERS. No cape issued. No instructions. Just a pause button hidden in plain sight.

And I stepped on it.

That’s a “power." Attention to detail. In a place engineered for distraction, I chose to notice. Like a flaneur.

So what does creativity, courage, and purpose do for us?

Creativity

Not lightning bolts or fireworks, creativity is quiet. More like rearranging the furniture of reality. Asking, How could this be different? Creativity lives in the small edits: the way you frame a problem, the story you tell yourself, the angle you choose when everyone else is looking straight ahead.

Courage

Often mistaken for volume or spectacle. But the sidewalk version is quieter. It’s the decision to step forward without guarantees. Courage is less a roar and more a steady pulse: go anyway.

Purpose

This one doesn’t arrive like a delivery package stamped URGENT. Purpose is  assembled over time and grows where your attention, values, and actions keep meeting each other again and again.

That stencil works because it refuses to define your powers for you. It hands you a question instead of an answer. Questions are more durable; they travel well.

If you stood there long enough, you might notice something else: nothing visibly changes… and yet something does. The world doesn’t tilt, but your orientation within it shifts a few degrees. And that’s enough. A few degrees, sustained over time, can redraw an entire life’s trajectory.

So maybe the stencil wasn’t asking you to become anything new.
Maybe it was inviting you to recognize what was already there, just waiting for a conscious acknowledgement.

Where do you think you’ve already used one of those “powers” without realizing it?

 

harriet powers stamps

The post office got me again with the recent issue of stamps that celebrate Harriet Powers' quilts. I went in to mail a letter that required extra postage and came out with two sheets of Harriet Powers quilt making stamps.

Harriet Powers was an African American quilt maker born into slavery in 1837 in rural northeast Georgia. She most likely learned her sewing and quilt-making skills on the plantation where she was enslaved.

After emancipation, she lived and worked near Athens, and over time became known for the remarkable pictorial quilts she created - quilts full of symbolism that read like illustrated panels that tell a narrative story. Powers used her quilting as a way to preserve her faith, her African American culture, and her own personal story.

Only two of her quilts are known to survive today, but those two works have become cornerstones in the story of American quilting - especially the tradition of story quilts. Each of the blocks in her quilts is its own little scene, almost like a storyboard.

Today one of Harriet Powers’ quilts is in the collection of the Smithsonian Museum of American History. The other is housed at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

History is told in many forms - through oral traditions, written narratives, documentary films, museum exhibitions, performance, art, and digital storytelling - all working to humanize the past. But what could be more intimate, more deeply human, than being wrapped in a handmade quilt, feeling the care, intention, and love stitched into every piece of fabric?

the friday feed: an irish meal

"For the whole world is Irish on the Seventeenth o' March!" – Thomas Augustine Daly

Every March 17, the United States turns emerald for a day. Americans wear green clothes and raise glasses of green beer. Menus fill with green milkshakes, bagels, even grits. In a bit of leprechaun-worthy mischief, Chicago dyes its river green.

I’ll wear green on St. Patrick’s Day, but skip the dyed drinks and foods. I’ve been in Chicago for the occasion, walking along that famously green river.

My own celebration happens in the kitchen. This year’s meal: corned beef, colcannon twice-baked potatoes, and roasted cabbage, carrots, and parsnips - traditional fare with a few twists.

HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SPRING!