good-bye, old friend {april 29, 2023}

Sigh. My favorite salad bowl, pasta serving dish, and whatever else I wanted to use it for bit the dust. 

Many years ago when on my way home from dropping one of my kids off at Ohio University in Athens, OH, I stopped by the outlet mall at Jeffersonville and went into the Williams-Sonoma store. Kitchen stores are my downfall but surprisingly, I didn't see anything that I just had to have. 

Until, at the very back of the store, on a sales shelf that had markdown after markdown, I saw this beautiful bowl for $5.00. FIVE DOLLARS! 

No hesitation. It was mine.

It was a regular on the dinner table. It went to pot lucks, baby and bridal showers, holiday and graduation parties. Everywhere I needed to contribute a dish, it was there. It was particularly busy in the summer after trips to the farmers' market and I had loaded up my bag with all sorts of veggies to make my "Summer in a Bowl" salads. 

After years and years of use, a couple cracks appeared and got bigger over time. Then one night, after washing it and letting it drip dry in the sink, I heard a noise from my family room. T went into the kitchen to see what happened, came back and said, "Your salad bowl broke." Oh, no! My beautiful, $5.00 find. I thought about super gluing it together but that fix wouldn't have lasted long. 

Am I on a new quest to replace it? Yes, but I'm not in a rush. I want it to be a serendipitous moment like all those years ago where the unexpected delight of the find made my day!

the friday feed: old mr. sugars {april 28, 2023}

I picked this last goody of a poem for National Poetry Month. Some may think it's gross. Nope, it'snot.

tiptoe through the tulips {april 27, 2023}

The daffodils' golden splendor is winding down at the "Daffodil House." Now it's time for the tulips to show their stuff. What a stunning welcome to those who venture up the driveway!

wordy wednesday... hexahectaenneacontakaiheptagon {april 26, 2023}

Hexahectaenneacontakaiheptagon...whew! That's a long one.

An Atlas Obscura article, "Colorado Is Not a Rectangle - It Has 697 Sides," was the source of this enlightenment.

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/is-colorado-a-rectangle?utm_source=pocket_discover

In a nutshell, there are only three states whose borders are entirely made up of straight lines: Utah, which would have been a rectangle if Wyoming hadn’t taken a chunk out of its northeastern corner; Wyoming and Colorado. But they aren't, for two distinct reasons: the earth is round and those 19th-century surveyors laying out state borders made mistakes.

Come to find out, Colorado doesn't have four sides, but 697 sides. So if Colorado is not a rectangle, what is it? Reaching back to all those Greek roots learned so long ago: Not a pentagon, (Greek for 5-sider), not a hexagon (6-sider), nor a heptagon (7-sider), so here it goes. 

Put all those roots together and you come up with hexahectaenneacontakaiheptagon, a 697-sider.

i found a quilted heart {april 25, 2023}

April 2020. The world was shut down and we were sheltering at home and social distancing at the few places where we were allowed to go: the pharmacy, the grocery store, Costco. Walking around the neighborhood and in the MetroParks when they opened up was so comforting and a sanity keeper.

Parents kept their kids entertained with all kinds of craft projects: driveways were decorated with chalk drawings, windows and doors had all kinds of ornamentation on them, bushes had strands of popcorn to feed the birds, painted rocks decorated gardens and were placed along the trails at the parks to brighten peoples' days.

April 2023. Walking in Hills and Dales MetroPark on a gray, chilly day and something colorful caught my eye. Hanging on a park bench was a quilted heart that needed a home. What a kind gesture. It's these little things that have such power of reassurance and love. I believe things, scattered like those painted stones, are not placed to impress us but to impress upon us just how beautiful life is. To the person who made this lovely quilted heart, thank you for spreading love and good vibes.

There's a website for I Found a Quilted Heart that tells the heartwarming story of how this gesture of kindness started and how it has spread worldwide. www.ifaqh.com

My sewing machine will be busy tomorrow 💜

monday's mulling: national drug take back day {april 24, 2023)

Saturday, April 22, was the DEA's National Drug Take Back Day. It's a chance to safely get rid of old, unwanted or no longer needed medication that the DEA said too often becomes a gateway to addiction.

A couple years ago we had to put our big dog down due to epileptic seizures and  quite a bit of his seizure medication was not used. Back then, there had been a shortage in the Phenobarbital. It was tough to find a 90-day supply for a 150 pound dog. I had to drive 45 minutes to Cincinnati to get his Phenobarb.

Shortly after Ted died, I heard about Drug Take Back Day. It seemed like such a waste to dispose of all of these pills when people were desperate to find them. I called his veterinary neurologist, his vet, kennels, many shelters in the area, but due to laws no one was able to take them. I took them to the Police Department to properly dispose of them and as a last resort asked if they knew of anyone who could use these. No such luck so into the designated container they went. It was a sad moment. These meds helped my dog for so many years; I wish they could have helped someone else's dog.

first anniversary {april 23, 2023}

Happy Anniversary to my second daughter and first son-in-law. It seems like yesterday that you two said "I do," but it's been 365 days. One year down and the rest of your lives to go. Here's to love and to you.

finding moments {april 22,2023}

We learn from the unfamiliar, not the well known. Keep your eyes and heart open.

the friday feed: be careful what you ask for! {april 21, 2023}

EVERYTHING ON IT

Poem and Drawing by Shel Silverstein

I asked for a hot dog

With everything on it,

And that was my big mistake,

‘Cause it came with a parrot,

A bee in a bonnet,

A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.

It came with a goldfish,

A flag, and a fiddle,

A frog, and a front porch swing,

And a mouse in a mask —

That’s the last time I ask

For a hog dog with everything. 

🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭 🌭

I loved reading Shel Silverstein's books and poetry to my children. His words were easy for the young audience to understand yet carried deeper meanings and lessons to "the moral of the story" to reach adults. The same went for his black and white drawings: Silverstein showed that being silly was OK. His drawing is imperfect but full of joy. 

I love my Shel Silverstein books. They haven't been used for quite a few years but now that little grandson is here, Didi will read the stories to him that his dad, aunts, and uncle so enjoyed. He will see where some pages have been colored in and maybe he will add his own artwork.

420 or 4/20 or 4:20 {april 20, 2023}

420 is a slang term (or a kind of code word) referring to marijuana or marijuana use.

Due to this association, 420 is also used as the name of an unofficial holiday that marijuana enthusiasts celebrate by using marijuana. It is sometimes called Weed Day.

420 has a much different meaning for me. It was the day that a sweet little chocolate lab was born. My daughter was taking summer school classes at Miami University, living in a house on campus, and she and a friend decided that they needed a house dog. They saw an ad for Lab puppies, called the owner, and met him in a gas station parking to pick up their little bundle of love that they named Hunter.

Hunter and his housemates had a wonderful summer. When it was time for fall classes and for my daughter to move into her house for the school year, she was so excited to bring her little puppy with her. Then she found out that there was a no pets clause in the lease.

It was a joint decision between my daughter, T, and me that Hunter would come and live with us. He and I became best buds. My little shadow who grew into my 90-pound lap dog.

Hunter’s tail always wagged, he never missed a meal (typical Lab), and he had the softest ears in the world. He loved everyone who walked into our home: appliance repairmen, contractors, neighbors, Girl Scout cookie sellers, family, friends, the carpet cleaner, just everyone. He was with us for 13 years, has been gone for almost three. 

“Petting, scratching, and cuddling a dog could be as soothing to the mind and heart as deep meditation and almost as good for the soul as prayer.” 

~ Dean Koontz

wordy wednesday...primavista {april 19, 2023}

Primavista...Italian for first look or first glance.

First looks bring back lots of good memories. The first time I saw the Grand Canyon, I was awestruck at its beauty and magnitude. The first time I saw the bright blue Caribbean Sea from the window of an airplane; it was the most magnificent blue I had ever seen.  The first time I saw the Hawaiian islands from an airplane; I was amazed that the island chain looked just like it did on a map. The first time I saw and held each one of my children, I was overcome with so much emotion that these little beings grew inside of me and then he or she was in my arms. The first time I saw and held my little grandson, filled me with so much love that my son and daughter-in-law are parents and my long awaited wish of being a grandma came true. This wasn't a tradition when T and I got married, but the first look for a bride and groom is a very special and intimate moment right before they become a married couple. Two of my kids have done first looks and the third will happen in a few months.

We took a quick overnight trip to Cincinnati and ate dinner at Primavista, which claims to have the best view of any restaurant in Cincinnati. Let me tell you, that first look of the city view, as well as the food and service, did not disappoint. We had a seat by one of the floor to ceiling windows and for a couple hours enjoyed the view as the lights of the city started to twinkle while the sun set.

the purple people bridge {april 18, 2023}

When visiting Cincinnati, you have to walk across the Purple People Bridge!

It’s a pedestrian-only bridge, affectionately named the Purple People Bridge for its fun purple color. This bridge originally opened in 1872 as the first railroad bridge connecting Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. After being repurposed several times, the City of Newport, KY received $4 million to paint and restore the bridge in 2001, creating the bridge that people know and love today. 

WHY PURPLE?

Southbank Partners, the nonprofit group that is the primary developer of the Newport Southbank Bridge, convened focus groups during the planning for converting the span to a pedestrian walkway over the Ohio River. More than a dozen groups were shown computer-generated images of how the bridge would look painted a variety of colors, including dark purple, green, rust, orange and white. In every group, purple and green were among the top choices.

In stepped Ted Bushelman, a Southbank volunteer and longtime director of communications at the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport. During the early 1960s, Bushelman worked in television when color TVs were just beginning to appear in homes. At Xavier University, Bushelman studied how people relate to colors, writing his master’s thesis on The Psychology of Color. “Seeing is as much in the brain as it is in the eye…Purple is a good color for public consumption. If you paint a room purple, it can drive you crazy. But it looks good on something like a bridge.”

I love walking across bridges whenever I can. You look forward to see where you’re going and look back to see where you’ve been. Cincinnati is a big city; the Covington/Newport riverfront is residential with many beautiful historic homes lining the Ohio River. The Ohio River is a busy river with fishermen, recreational boats, and tug boats pushing barges to their destinations. To avoid having the Locks of Love all over the bridge, a designated wall has been placed for those who want to memorialize their love for their special person. What is fun, too, is the state line is marked on the bridge. Walkers can stand in two states at once.

monday's mulling: the boston marathon

Today, April 17, 2023, is the 127th Boston Marathon and the 10th anniversary of the bombing that occurred at its finish line.

The Boston Marathon Bombing was a domestic terrorist attack when two bombs went off near the finish line on April 15, 2013, killing three spectators and wounding more than 260 other people. After an intense manhunt, police captured one of the bombing suspects, 19-year-old Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, whose older brother and fellow suspect, 26-year-old Tamerlan Tsarnaev, died following a shootout with law enforcement.

I remember hearing about the bombing, turning on the TV, watching and listening to news reports tell the story over and over again. My sister called. Her daughter was a student at MIT and Madeline’s sorority had volunteered to staff a water tent along the route. Fortunately, that tent was nowhere near the finish line. But still…she was there.

A month later, May 5, 2013, 6:30 a.m...my daughter would run the Flying Pig Half Marathon in Cincinnati. What a perfect way to start this race with the flag flying, a rainbow smiling on the runners, bagpipes playing "Amazing Grace" in honor of those who died and were injured at the Boston Marathon, a fabulous men's quartet singing "The Star Spangled Banner," and then Neil Diamond's rendition of "Sweet Caroline blaring over the speakers. Wow. 

From Porkopolis to Beantown: In the starting area, people signed signs of support for the City of Boston, the race participants, and the first responders. Back in the day, steamboats were repaired and built in Cincinnati. It became a meatpacking center, where livestock was slaughtered, butchered, and sold there, or shipped from there. Cincinnati became known as the “Porkopolis" when it became the pork-processing center of the country.

All along the race route, policemen dressed in their riot gear walked along the streets. Many law enforcement officers were positioned on top of buildings. Such an imposing presence and an in your face reminder of what happened a month ago.

But then there was hope...catching glimpses of my daughter as she ran along the hilly route. She looked so strong and happy. At the end of the race a burst of energy kicked in and she sprinted to the finish line. She was tired but she did it. The thrill of the competition, the defiance that good overcomes evil, and the relief that she was safe.

lilacs {april 16, 2023}

It’s that time of year to celebrate the lilac bushes putting on their glorious and fragrant show. We were walking in the Historic Riverside District in Covington, KY, admiring the beautifully preserved historic homes. The lilacs were blooming all along the sidewalks, their perfume filling the air on a bright, bright, bright, sunshiny day.

Lilacs have come to symbolize spring and renewal because they are early bloomers. These bushes have also held different meanings in different cultures throughout the centuries. The Celtics saw lilacs as magical because of their sweet scent. During the Victorian age, lilacs were a symbol of an old love - widows often wore lilacs during this time. In Russia, holding a sprig of lilac over a newborn baby was thought to bring wisdom.

Although the species stands for renewal and confidence overall, each color of lilac has its own specific meaning. White lilacs represent purity and innocence, while purple lilacs symbolize spirituality. If the blooms edge more on the blue side of the color wheel, they symbolize happiness and tranquility. Magenta lilacs symbolize love and passion.

Lilacs originated in Eastern Europe and Asia and were brought over to America by colonists in the 17th century. Although they weren't native to the United States, they quickly became popular with Americans. Both George Washington and Thomas Jefferson grew these shrubs in their gardens, and lilacs were grown in America's first botanical gardens. Lilacs have long been a beloved flower and source of inspiration for artists such as Vincent van Gogh and Claude Monet.

When we smell the lilac fragrance, memories may come back. This scent  takes me to my grandma’s flower garden, a quiet, peaceful place enclosed by a white fence, with a bird bath, all kinds of flowers: iris, peonies, roses, lilies of the valley, and of course lilacs. They remind me of my mom, who would have a bouquet on her kitchen table. Lilacs remind me of some of my students, who would bring a couple branches in to put on my desk, the classroom filled with that delightful floral scent (which was particularly welcome after the kids came in from their after lunch time outside!)

Another beautiful spring burst of color and aroma!

glenna goodacre {april 15, 2023}

When Glenna Goodacre was a student and interested in becoming a sculptor, her art teacher discouraged her. He gave her a grade of “D,” told her that she had no ability to see in three dimensions and advised her to switch to painting. Ms. Goodacre did paint for a while, but went on to become a nationally known sculptor. Her works include the Vietnam Women’s Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, the Irish famine memorial in Philadelphia and the Sacagawea dollar coin. She also made a larger-than-life statue of President Ronald Reagan, which was unveiled at the Reagan Presidential Library in California 1998.

Perhaps her most famous piece is the bronze sculpture dedicated to the 11,500 women who served in Vietnam as nurses, intelligence analysts, air traffic controllers and other roles. Since it was unveiled on Veterans Day in 1993, it has become a gathering place for some of the 265,000 women who served in the military during the Vietnam era, and their loved ones.

“There will always be a place for commemorative sculpture because it is three-dimensional, people can walk up, identify, congregate, photograph, touch, be in the historical moment,” she said in 2015.

She was 80  when she died in April 2020.

Lincoln Park Civic Commons is a lovely park in my town for walking, eating lunch, walking dogs, or just sitting back and taking a breath. Through the years, it has become a spot for public art and in 2007 Glenna Goodacre placed two of her bronze statues in the park.

Back the day of teaching reading to 8th graders, one of the reading strategies was, and still is, connections. Connections bring meaning. So on their 8th grade field trip to Washington DC, the students saw Goodacre’s Vietnam Womens' Memorial. I told them about her statues in Lincoln Park, to connect meaning to a statue they saw in Washington DC to the same artist in their hometown. 

The Runner (2007)

Old Man and His Dog (2007)

Old Man and His Dog (2007)

the friday feed: ode to maize {april 14, 2023}

To keep with the celebration of National Poetry Month, the next three “Friday Feeds” will focus on food.

In 1961, Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet, wrote “odas elementales” that were translated into English as The Elementary Odes. While food seems to be ordinary and mundane in our everyday lives, Neruda celebrates food. In his Ode to Maize, Neruda says that maize is one of the staple foods for the South American people. It enriches the diets, especially for the peasants, miners, and working people. The maize shoot is a green lance covered with golden grains. It is a weapon against hunger for the poor. When cornmeal reached the table of the hungry miners, it was a treasure. Its radiance lit up the miners’ and workers’ faces.

Ode To Maize by Pablo Neruda

America, from a grain

of maize you grew

to crown

with spacious lands

the ocean foam.

A grain of maize was your geography.

From the grain

a green lance rose,

was covered with gold,

to grace the heights

of Peru with its yellow tassels.

But, poet, let

history rest in its shroud;

praise with your lyre

the grain in its granaries:

sing to the simple maize in the kitchen.

First, a fine beard

fluttered in the field

above the tender teeth

of the young ear.

Then the husks parted

and fruitfulness burst its veils

of pale papyrus

that grains of laughter

might fall upon the earth.

To the stone,

in your journey,

you returned.

Not to the terrible stone,

the bloody

triangle of Mexican death,

but to the grinding stone,

sacred

stone of your kitchens.

There, milk and matter,

strength-giving, nutritious

cornmeal pulp,

you were worked and patted

by the wondrous hands

of dark-skinned women.

Wherever you fall, maize,

whether into the

splendid pot of partridge, or among

country beans, you light up

the meal and lend it

your virginal flavor.

Oh, to bite into

the steaming ear beside the sea

of distant song and deepest waltz.

To boil you

as your aroma

spreads through

blue sierras.

But is there

no end

to your treasure?

In chalky, barren lands

bordered

by the sea, along

the rocky Chilean coast,

at times

only your radiance

reaches the empty

table of the miner.

Your light, your cornmeal, your hope

pervades America's solitudes,

and to hunger

your lances

are enemy legions.

Within your husks,

like gentle kernels,

our sober provincial

children's hearts were nurtured,

until life began

to shuck us from the ear.