I Couldn't Help Myself

It was Princess Leia's fault.

Really. I was not to blame.

The meal was progressing routinely. Princess Leia was being her normal charming self, smiling and 'talking' and eating enthusiastically. Unfortunately, for me, I was seated right across from her, able to see her flash her million dollar smile and feel her magnetic personality. I know I am supposed to be the adult, one who is immune from laughing at a child, but it just didn't quite work out that way.

Deep down, inside, I understand it is not supposed to be funny when a toddler throws something at the dinner table, but Princess Leia threw her 'sippy' cup down with such determination, then smiled and looked right at Grandpa SO and me. I started to laugh, but knew I shouldn't, so I ducked down below the table to try to conceal my laughing. PL knew where I was and did her darnedest to lean over and see where Granny had disappeared to. There was a Cheerio box on the table and I tried to sit up and 'hide' behind the Cheerio box until I could 'get it together'. PL craned her little neck as far as she could to see over the top of the cereal box, which Grandpa SO described to me.......while laughing, I might add. I made the mistake of looking over the cereal box, right into those eyes, and she laughed even more. By now I was laughing so hard I was crying, but I was still trying to not let PL see me laugh at her antics. Then she started leaning left and right, making every attempt to make eye contact with her now out-of-control granny. Grandpa SO, who is usually the model of table decorum then began moving the Cheerio box left and right, allowing PL to keep me in her sights. It was two against one!

I can only say that I laughed until my sides hurt. Secretly, it was the most fun I've had in a long time, but please do not mention this to PL's parents. If I ever had to care for Princess Leia for any long-term, I'd have to take lessons on how to avoid her charms.

I can only hope that breakfast, tomorrow morning, goes better than tonight's dinner.

It really was not my fault.

Ancora imparo

What I Like About Being A Granny

• Little hands holding mine
• Little voices saying, "Grandma, where are you?"
• Reading books, lots of books, to your grandchildren
• Twinkling eyes that look closely at you to see if you know you're being 'joshed'
• Dimples
• Discovering that your grandchildren have a sense of humor
• Discovering that your grandchildren can s-p-e-l-l
• Grandchildren think you are funny
• You can act your 'inner-child' age
• You can act silly and goofy and your grandchildren encourage your antics
• Your grandchildren do not care if you have make-up on your face
• Your grandchildren do not care if your hair is 'perfect'.
• Your grandchildren do not care if you are 'dressed to the nines'
• Your grandchildren do not care if your tableware does not match
• When your one-year old grandchild crawls up into your lap, just because..........
• When your one-year old grandchild looks up at you
• Feeling a little head under my chin
• When my grandchildren come to visit
• When a grandchild hugs me
• When a grandchild hugs me and says, "I love you"

Ancora imparo

All's Quiet

Two little voices and four little feet can sound like a thundering herd of caribou. (Not that I've actually ever heard a thundering herd of caribou.) The sound of a three-year old and four-year old playing is music to my and my SO's ears. Excitement is always around every corner when you are three and four. The toys at Grandma's and Grandpa's, while not new, are new enough to grandchildren to generate intense interest and concentration.

You never know when interest will wane, but when it does, Grandmas and Grandpas are always ready to move to the next activity. This morning, when a game of catch with Velcro mitts grew tiresome, a larger ball came out and Grandma invented the game of "Bowling For Grandpas", which was a big hit with the grandsons. Grandpa SO graciously fell floppily to the ground each time the ball hit his body. The more floppy he fell, the more chuckles and giggles were heard. Later, when Grandpa SO had to leave and go to a meeting, Granny took the remaining box of Animal Crackers, broke them in half, and proceeded to take the boys on a walk where they were encouraged to run or jump. The purpose of this game should be evident to anyone who ever needed to extract energy from youngsters. We were safely on sidewalks so their movements could be less controlled than being on the side of a street. When Grandma said "Stop", they had to freeze. If they were actually able to stop moving, they were rewarded with half of an animal cracker. I love a reward system that works, keeps children safe, AND extracts energy......all at the same time.

Of course, playing with grandchildren also exercises and tires out grannies and grandpas. I feel a yawn......number fifty-seven......coming on. It's nap time!

Ancora imparo

Ultimate Futility

Dental hygiene is ultra important. Medical and dental professionals tell patients this all the time, and I subscribe to the notion. It is cheaper to pay for preventive maintenance than to fork out boatloads of money for dental repair, which can be prohibitively expensive, especially if one does not have dental insurance.

Hence, it pays to have your teeth cleaned every six months because at the end of that procedure, which polishes up your pearly whites to a brilliant shine, the dentist comes into your little cubicle and probes around in your mouth, uttering oohs, aahs, and hmms. These utterances are most assuredly supposed to cause the patient to feel that the utmost in attention is being given to the person with his or her mouth wide open.

However, I must protest that the dental profession needs to come up with a more long-lasting solution to teeth cleaning than the one ascribed to by the majority of dentists. Why? Because having your teeth cleaned is the ultimate in planned obsolescence. Why? Because, in the vast majority of peoples' lives who have just had their teeth cleaned, food particles will assault their teeth within, at least, four hours of their procedures. Teeth cleaning would be great if it could parallel the idea of having your house cleaned or your clothes dry cleaned........tasks that can have lasting effects for two weeks, if not longer.

Why cannot a prescription medicine be discovered that would be in the form of a pill that could be ingested right after having your teeth cleaned? This pill could be an uber appetite suppressant that could affect one's appetite for two, three, or even four weeks.

Imagine that! A pill that would make me not want to eat for at least two weeks.....all in the name of cleaner teeth!

I'll keep on dreamin'. It can't hurt. One of these times, one of my very good ideas will become a reality.

Ancora imparo

Cerebral Connections

Have you ever felt as if the wiring in your brain has gone haywire? Or, to put it another way, have you ever felt as if your mental spark plugs need replacing?

I'm feeling that way dealing with all of the passwords and user names that I must retrieve in a single day. To be internet safe, I maintain differing passwords and user names for every 'thing' on the internet. I know people who use the same password and user name for every 'thing' but I do believe that leaves a person more vulnerable to internet frustrations and outright disasters. However, keeping all of that information straight in my head is becoming a greater challenge as the years go by. As I use more and more sites and must come up with more and more passwords and user names, I just add to the internal 'phone' book I must maintain.

I know that there are products, on the market, that purport to improve mental acuity and even capacity. Ginko giloba is supposed to be one of those products. No way will I begin putting something into my body that I can hardly spell or pronounce. I like to ingest products that have alphabetical letters in the names, such as Vitamin C, D or B. Nothing exotic, thank you very much.

I think my brain is big enough, but it seems to be becoming more disorganized at a time in my life when I need even more mental organization and compartmentalization. I fear that at some point I'll be found, seated in a corner somewhere, drooling and mumbling every password and user name I've ever selected, only they'll all be mixed up. No phisher will ever be a threat to me then because I'll never remember the combinations that I dreamed up.

Now what are the words that I sign off with each time, after blogging?

It's beginning, isn't it?

Ancora imparo

Controversies

The news has been filled with a plethora of controversial topics, as of late. Well, when isn't the news filled with controversial subjects?

The soldier who purportedly disclosed sensitive military documents; a former president's daughter's purported extravagant wedding expenses; the oil spill - of course; the exit of the oil-spill's company's CEO; the he-said, she-said saga of a Hollywood star and his live-in trollop; etc., etc., etc.

Yesterday, I entered into a conversation regarding controversies, and what constitutes a controversy. My friend and I both agreed that declaring a topic, event, story, article or happening controversial was purely a subjective and individual choice. We agreed that just about any topic could be considered controversial by someone or some group.

OK, I concur. But.....today a real controversy reared its head. A topic which has universal and long-range ramifications..........

Soft-cookie versus crunchy-cookie texture

Each side of this cookie conundrum is passionate in the defense of its preference. Passionate to the fault of down-right disdain for the other side's viewpoint. As I am baking cookies this afternoon for the Three Musketeers, I have been, as always, highly attentive to the temperature accuracy of my oven AND the amount of time that the pan of cookie dough bakes. The pan absolutely must come out of the oven at the precise moment that done-ness occurs AND the cookies must be removed from the cookie sheet in a prompt manner, lest they become too crispy.

Yes, for those of you who may not want to hear this: I am a devotee of soft cookies. If that makes you not want to read Ancora imparo any longer, then you must do what you must do, just as I must do what I must do. I cannot, in good conscience, produce a cookie that is crispy. I just cannot bring myself to do what I consider is over-baking.

Oops, my confessional time is over. The timer just went 'ding'!

Ancora imparo

Seven Generation Footprint

A recent article in the March, 2010 Reader's Digest caught my eye and, subsequently, grabbed my imagination by the collar and would not let go. The article, "Driven To Succeed", written by Margaret Heffernan, showcases a Detroit, Michigan woman named Andra Rush, who leads her own trucking company, Rush Trucking. Rush is a member of the Mohawk Indian Tribe of Ontario, Canada. In a Q and A section of the story, Rush is asked the question, "How has your heritage influenced your approach to business?" She replies, "In our culture, when you make a decision, you consider its impact on the next seven generations."

The next seven generations struck a chord with me. Not only is that a very long time, but to consider subsequent generations numbering seven, requires much forethought and planning. When I truly consider seven generations, I am overwhelmed by the enormity of the task. How could one really anticipate all that could and might happen over the course of time for the next seven generations? Rush talks about taking environmental precautions from the outset, which would be obvious. But, how can a person forsee what the future might be like or what the future might demand of those living their lives in the future?

I have difficulty planning for the next day or week, let alone the next seven generations. But the idea, however daunting, would serve to inspire creativity, ingenuity, and an atmosphere of cooperation with other humans as well as the environment. It gives me pause to ponder if we really could co-exist peacefully with Mother Nature without environmental and wildlife exploitation?

I know the answer to my question is 'yes', but are we ready, as a people, to make the necessary adjustments and sacrifices? How do we shed the attitude of "its mine to possess, and I want it now!?!?" Are we ready to see nature as an equal to our human needs, wants, and desires?

Now I must plan for dinner the the evening. This could be a challenge. I'll start small and work my way up to 'big'.

Ancora imparo

Who Ya Gonna Call?

Sometimes life presents a real-time comic strip moment. You know, the Dagwood and Blondie sequence where she would squeal over a mouse making its appearance. She screams for Dagwood and he comes a-running to save her.

I just had my own.

I went outside to sweep the mulch fragments from the walkway and driveway. Only two months late, our association finally got mulch around all of the units. At least now the weeds should not feel quite so in control. After sweeping, I thought I saw a paper flyer in the mailbox. These flyers that get distributed are such a nuisance because the wind whips them out and they end up all over the neighborhood. Off to the mailbox went I, only to spy several wasps gathered in a corner of our mailbox. Of course, feeling mighty and strong with my broom, I whacked at them and about ten more came flying at me. I swung my broom around, every which way, while at the same time, running for the cover of the garage. I promptly put the garage door down and stepped inside the condo.

Did I mention that while I was wildly swinging my broom and running, the local fire department had a breakdown right in front of our condo and backup vehicles had come along to wait for the fire-truck repair vehicle? There were men sitting in a pickup less than twenty feet behind me when I went to the mailbox.

Back to the Dagwood-and-Blondie-type story.......

As soon as I got inside, I hurried downstairs and asked my brave and heroic SO where the wasp spray was. He asked why. I told him and began looking for the spray. He said, "Don't bother. I'll take care of them.", which was all I needed to hear from my hero. He grabbed the spray and headed outside, with me close behind him.....for moral support. After he had sprayed more twelve of them and routed them out of the mailbox/newspaper port, the firefighter that had been behind me stepped over to us and said he'd seen my escapade. He had just wondered if he needed to call an ambulance. -:) Very funny.

My Dagwood saved his Blondie.

Ancora imparo

Old Faithfuls

'Tis good to be home.....even though it brings loads and loads of laundry, pulling weeds, running the discolored water out of the faucets, vacuuming up too much cat hair, airing out the cat's litter box, grooming Cranky Kitty - who hates to be groomed, and scrounging for food in a mostly-empty refrigerator. You know the drill of coming home. Sometimes even finding clean clothes to change into after your arrival-home shower can be a challenge!

There is just something so very comforting about returning home after being away. The old faithfuls, I call them, are so wonderfully familiar. Old faithfuls like the flavor of your own water, your tub/shower, your soap, your towels, your favorite chairs, easy access to your coffee-creamer.....even having coffee creamer.....the view out your windows, your favorite blends of coffee, and, best of all, your bed and pillow.

Anyone who has been away from home, even for a short amount of time, knows how wonderful it is to return to one's own bed. The way your own pillow folds around your head and neck, the feel of the lumps, dips, and furrows in your mattress......they all add up to better sleeping. Even the kind of sheets you are accustomed to sleeping on can make a difference.

My SO says that I am like the princess in "The Princess and the Pea" story and, I must admit, he is right. When it comes to sleeping, I have so much trouble getting a good night's sleep, that all of the stars and planets must be correctly aligned in order for me to sleep with any definition of 'good' possible. At times, when one is away from home, there may even be a difference in nighttime lighting, temperature and sounds.

And, so, it is with great delight that I type this posting from the comfort and informality of my own home. My desk and desk chair were just waiting for me, as was Cranky Kitty, who really likes people - she just has trouble showing it in the conventionally and socially acceptable ways that kitties should.

I keep telling her that biting, growling and hissing are not ways to influence people to become her friends.

It is not working.

From the comfort of MY HOME,
Ancora imparo

Dynamic Dough

There is a business establishment called Sweetie Pies in my area of the country that is renown for its........you guessed it.......pies. This business has ascribed to the Business 101 tenet that you find your niche and run with it. Well, Sweetie Pies has. They bake multiple times per day, seven days a week 'in season'. Their selection is wide and varied, with fruit pies and cream pies standard. You can buy pie by the slice, you can buy 'Cutie Pies', which are miniature versions of their full-sized pies, and you can purchase the whole enchilada, too. They do not waste the leftover dough, but instead, roll it out and brush it with a cinnamon/sugar mixture before baking. Further leftover dough is made into tarts and tartlets, which are mini-mini, open-face pies.

If there is pie in heaven, then it surely must come from Sweetie Pies. The volume of business they do is impressive. This afternoon, when I went to pick up a full-size cherry pie, the little waiting area was crammed full with customers, all waiting to purchase something from Sweetie Pies. It took me almost thirty minutes before I was waited on. While I was standing in line, I saw person after person walk past me with whole, boxed pies, pie slices - some with ice cream and some without, many slices accompanied by a cup of coffee.

Adorning the walls were homemade, personally designed, dough rolling pins that are part of a fund-raising auction. Imaginations were flowing when these pins were designed. Many of them were painted, others adorned with glitter, rhinestones, fabric and other trinket-sized items. An eye feast to be sure.........not to mention the digestive feast that is always available at Sweetie Pies.

Diabetic? Not to worry! Sweetie Pies has you covered, too. There is truly something for everyone.......except, perhaps, for the gluten-intolerant. Oh yes, did I mention that they also take their famous flaky dough and make quiche with it?

Be sure to make Sweetie Pies in Door County, Wisconsin a stop on your next vacation there. You won't be disappointed, your taste buds will thank you but your waistline (or wasteline) may complain a bit.

Go for it. You'll be on vacation!

Ancora imparo

Do The Rules Apply To All?

What is there in the human psyche that enables some of us to believe that the 'rules' do not really apply to us? You know the people I am speaking of. 'They' are everywhere. They can be found in the long lines at national amusement parks, traffic congestion that has ground to a halt in major (and minor) cities, and the hordes of shoppers that clog retail stores on Black Friday.

Rule-Exempted-People (hereafter referred to as REP) rarely, or never, grasp the concept that rules are posted for all to observe, thereby making life - or the immediate experience - more pleasurable and smooth for EVERYONE. REP will take advantage of any and all perks that are offered and proffered, often to the point that results in the perks being withdrawn, no longer available to anyone, just because a few misused the privileges.

Perhaps REP could be convinced to simply wear signs around their necks that say "I am a rule-exempted-person and will take advantage of you at every opportunity I can." That way the rest of us, who follow the rules, can still be identified and perhaps even rewarded for heeding the rules and regulations set down by management, municipalities, and other leadership bodies.
Maybe we rule-followers can design signs to wear around our necks that say, "I follow rules." Then the two sign options would make REP more easily recognized and dealt with so the 'rest of us' could move through lines and traffic as quickly as situations will allow.

Let me know what you think of my idea. We could start a movement here. I can feel the momentum building as I type!

Ancora imparo

Re-Arranged

Recently, a friend and I were discussing the re-arrangements of our physical plants, i.e. our bodies. She said that it seemed she went to sleep one night and when she awoke the next morning, quite a few parts of her body seemed to be either in different places or shaped differently. I told her I could totally identify with that feeling and we had a good laugh between ourselves.

Since that conversation, I have been ultra aware of the constant re-arrangement of my body. It is as if the same plates below the earth's surface that create earthquakes are at work under my skin. Forget symmetry. Each side is working overtime to become different from the other side. Some wintry morning I expect to awaken to find that my entire right side has shifted to my left side and vice versa. I remember a John Travolta movie in which his character and another surgically traded faces and the ensuing chaos and angst that was created. I'm quite certain that is what is transpiring within me, except that I am not being paid the big bucks that John Travolta was given to enact this plot line.

My re-arrangement is being exacerbated by my rapidly-developing skin wrinkles that are enveloping my body, obfuscating the continuing realignment that is transpiring. I have to look really carefully to see if my 'new' look is from internal re-arrangement or wrinkle growth, neither of which are desirable. My body topography is in a constant of morphism.

Now that I've been away from a mirror for a short while I must stop blogging and return to the mirror to see what changes have occurred. The optimist in me is hoping for a time-lapse make-over. I'm mentally envisioning three new looks that I hope my body will eventually morph into, each look being four to five inches taller than I presently am, and ten years younger.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Ancora imparo

Unplugged

I never go 'unplugged' with my laptop but, tonight, here I sit on the upper deck of the Aqua RV, typing away, watching the approaching storms envelope the sky around our marina. The skies in this part of the country have been active today with tornadoes, thunderstorms, lightning, hail, and high winds, thankfully not here......until now.

Armed with another posting idea, I had intended to blog down below, but the idea of observing the stormy skies was more than I could resist, so I did the uncharacteristic - for moi - and brought my laptop up to the deck. I'm glad I'm unplugged because the light show and thunder has begun and I would not want to be connected to electricity at this moment. In fact, it is all I can do to stay here, on the deck, with the storm around us. Somehow, being down below, where I would not be able to see the lightning - only hear the claps of thunder - could somehow mitigate the intensity of Mother Nature's antics.

The sky is becoming very dark and it is raining steadily. The boat is beginning to rock a bit, which means that there is wind somewhere.....so says Capt. SO. The wind has not yet reached us, but the water is reflecting wind - perhaps out in the bay. Since our car has to sit outside when we are here, I hope that our area escapes the hail that has been accompanying this particular set of storm cells. If sky-darkness is any indication, it would appear that the area to the south of us is experiencing more storm-related by-products than we are. Every now and then the thunder lets go with an ear-splitting crack and I jump, which then makes a typing error which I have to correct.

But, to the title of this posting, being 'unplugged' is quite liberating. Unfettered and unconnected is giving me the feeling of being somehow 'free', which is really ridiculous, since true freedom and unconnectedness would be not having my laptop at all. I wonder if my definition of unfettered and unconnected is being changed with time?

Hmmm. The lightning is intensifying, so this blogger will sign off and become an ostrich. If I can't see it then it is not happening.

Right..........

Ancora imparo

Reconnecting

Friendship is a precious commodity. I've always realized this, but as my chronological age increases, so does my awareness of the special nature of friendship.

Friends, real friends, are proven through the test of time. You can tell a real friend by the ease of conversation into which you lapse, regardless of the amount of time since you have seen the person. Friends can come into your life in a relatively quick period of time and become easy friends or they can represent friendships that have stood the test of time.

The value of a friend (or friends) is enormous, and perhaps, incalculable. As the television commercial says so succinctly, priceless. Friends can be found in different places, cities, settings, and groups. Friends are those who you can laugh with, cry with, rejoice with and rant with. Friends care not which aforementioned state-of-mind category you are in.......they accept you as you are and where you are. Friends come as singles and as couples.

No matter the age, stage, or number, a friend is.....well, a friend. I cannot imagine my life without my friends - our friends. Wherever you are, whatever your age, whatever your mood, whatever your political inclination........I thank you for enriching my life. I only hope I can return the favor.

Ancora imparo

Fog Density

We awoke to very dense fog. Looking out the cabin door of our Aqua RV, the view was, well, white like snow. It looked as if the white aft curtain was on, which it was not. The shoreline, which is not very far away, was not visible. Venturing up to the deck area, we could instantly feel the effects of the fog. Our skin felt as if it was being pelted by millions of tiny water droplets at once, even though it was not raining. Such a curious sensation on the skin.

The fog rather matched the process in my brain.......dense white and nothing else. It was as if my mind had decided since there was little to see then there was little to contemplate.......like a blank whiteboard in a classroom.

This, then, gave me the freedom to conjure up any scenario, I wanted, in my brain. And it went to work. Just like the millions of tiny water droplets hydrating my skin, my mind began firing dozens of ideas and thoughts at once. If I would have had a whiteboard in front of me, I could have drained an entire box of whiteboard markers.

But, the brain frenzy was just like a fish-feeding frenzy, when the fish bite like mad for a bit, then suddenly stop and the catching is over as quickly as it began.
As the fog lifted, my brain slowed down, seemingly to a dangerously slow speed, rather like very low blood pressure.

The fog is still present and my mind is back to white, which is just what the television screen looks like in front of me. I guess that the cable service didn't like the fog, either.

Time for yoga. I need to clear my head.

Vacations

Vacations are a curious phenomenon. They come in different shapes and sizes. When multiple people vacation together, the vacation will look different for every person, young or old. The word vacation is both a noun and a verb. Vacations are, simultaneously, exhilarating and tiring, depending on your point of view. Vacations can be priceless, regardless of the total cost of the time, place, and activities. In other words, vacations are personal and private, yet completely dependent on group psychology and interaction, if you are vacationing with family units other than your own.

Capt. SO and I just finished a vacation with our nuclear family. The 'group' consisted of a family of five - two parents and The Three Musketeers, a single-adult female, and the two 'oldsters'.......us. The Three Musketeers are ages four, three and one, which will tell you that their parents worked really hard for the five days that we were all together. If the two parents could be interviewed - post vacation - they might very well say that their vacation began when they returned home and the children could all be in their own beds and bedrooms........and this would have come after four nights in a tent and a nine-hour car ride home. Now that is the pioneer spirit, if ever I saw it!

As for Ma and Pa, we are keeping ourselves busy, with toys and 'stuff' to put away, which is a good thing for moi, as I am now in a funk because everyone is gone. I'm compiling a list of things to do, which can keep me occupied and keep my mind off from having everyone close by to having everyone vanish. Where are my peeps?

The clouds and the rain are not helping. Where is the sun? I need the sun!

Ancora imparo

Spiders and Other Creepy-Crawlies

I have a great respect for living things - large and small, high and low, fast and slow, two-legged, four-legged, eight-legged, and wiggly ones that crawl on the ground. I respect creatures whose goal in life would be to eat me. Every living 'thing' has to eat - even crocodiles and alligators, scorpions and brown recluse spiders, earth worms and coral snakes.

So, when I am camping or spending larger amounts of times in camp grounds and state parks, I understand that I will be sharing living space with creatures who live (or are supposed to) in the great outdoors. EVEN though I thoroughly dislike walking on nature trails and walking through spider webs that stick to your face, hair, and clothing, I understand that it is 'their' space, too. EVEN when I am seated at a picnic table and the spiders that have been happily living underneath the table and bench seats decide to make a trek to the other side. EVEN when I use the 'facilities' and have to share the space with spiders, in their webs, above my head, to my side, and in every corner.

BUT........I draw the line when it comes to sharing my home and sleeping bag (or bed) with the aforementioned creatures. I do not wish to hear a mosquito whispering in my ear or buzzing my face in the night. I do not wish to feel the pitter-patter of eight little legs and eight tiny little feet walking about on my skin whilst I am trying to sleep. I really believe in creature segregation. I have my space and they have theirs. Let us not feel the need for blended families and helping all creatures to live peaceably in the same tent. Co-existence between creature-species is not possible unless...............

I could think of one exception.

Ancora imparo

Worth The Wait

While on vacation, we took our grandchildren (plus the other adults accompanying them, AKA their parents) to a popular burger joint known for its great ambiance for children. This restaurant's claim to fame is the toy train track that runs around the bar, bringing the food and beverage orders to those lucky enough to get seated at the bar area. When the kitchen has a lull in order activity, the train runs around the track carrying stuffed animals while blowing its whistle, and this year's newest attraction - train cars that produce bubbles as the train moves.

After your meal, there are outdoor activities a-plenty, all without charge, sure to keep even the most active of children and adults busy and occupied. You can peddle these massive bicycle-contraptions that will hold four, you can shoot baskets in the world's funkiest basketball court ever, you can enjoy ice cream cones outside, or your kids can climb in and out, over and under playground equipment that looks like trains.

You may have to wait a while to be seated at the bar, or, you can feed your hunger earlier than most and have no difficulty in sitting at the bar. Whichever time table you and your family are on, the whole experience is worth the wait!

Just ask my grandchildren!

Ancora imparo

The In/Out Switch

Babies are fascinating, simply fascinating.

I know that statement can be expanded to humans in general, but Princess Leia drove home the point yesterday, while on the Aqua RV.

She finally had the opportunity to roam about, as inquisitive 'younguns' are naturally inclined to do. She and her family are tent-camping so her world of exploration is quite limited there, with small boundaries that go no farther than the edge of a large blanket or the inside of the tent. Being naturally good natured, she has mostly and patiently endured her smaller-than-usual world with her customary dazzling smile, crinkled-up nose, and hearty chuckle.

On the Aqua RV there is a space, about eight feet by ten feet, where she can freely move about, checking out this and that space. Two areas of egress can be blocked by large bags that are too big for her (now) to push aside, and the sides of this area are high enough that, while she can stand up, she cannot (yet) climb out or over.

"Ah.", we smugly thought. Safety and freedom for Princess Leia. We agreed that this was a perfect place for her to play and move about. After all, we smarty-pants adults joked, there was only one thing she couldn't touch - the in/out switch for the electrical cord - and she would have so many other things to check out that wouldn't be an issue.

"Ha, ha,", PL must have thought to herself. "That in/out switch is just at my eye-level and looks like so much fun. I'll go right over there and investigate that tiny lever!" And so she did, over and over and over. We brilliant adults were confident that we could re-direct her attention to other, more spectacular places and things, even us......but to no avail. The in/out switch is now the focus of her attention and determination. No matter what, or who, we place in front of that switch, she wiggles her little hand and arm, trying to position her body in order to reach the one thing we were certain she would never be interested in:
The In/Out Switch.

The last laugh is definitely on us!

Ancora imparo

Weddings Are So Much Fun

I love weddings for a number of reasons. The obvious reason is that they are romantic, the culmination of a dating relationship that the couple has chosen to signify the outward and visible sign of love and commitment.

Weddings are also fun, often an opportunity for an extended family to come together, resulting in a mini-reunion of sorts. All the familial eggs show up - cracked, hard-boiled, scrambled, poached, sunny-side up and over-easy. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that with my egg descriptions, you can attach a relative to every egg-preparation type there is. (I'm right, aren't I?) Some of the family eggs fit the egg-industry, sorting categories, too. Jumbo, extra large, large, medium, small, organic, cage-free, brown, fowl, speckled, and, my personal favorite: turkey. All my egg 'talk' reminds me of my dad's highest compliment he could pay another man: "He's a good egg."

Weddings are also a window into the bride and groom's personalities. Some couples are ultra-serious, others playful during the ceremony, while yet others appear scared to death, looking as if they are wondering how the 'whole thing got this far'. I also love to see the choices that brides make for their gowns and the dresses for their bridal attendants. Another cue to the bride and groom's personalities are the genres of music selected. Post-ceremony usually, and hopefully, finds the happy couple relaxed and ready to kick back.

While weddings do have some format, due to the framework of the ceremony chosen, there are as many formats as there are married-couples-to-be. It is a chance to place the stamp of individuality (speaking of the couple as one) on the entire event, and that is the fascinating nature of weddings. You come away from each wedding with a bit more insight into the man and woman that just 'tied the knot'.

Hopefully the knot is a strong one.

Ancora imparo

Pardon, Me!

Sometimes scrambling does not pay off.

Take, for example, today. My SO and I have about three years of work (or so it seems) to do in three hours. We are each scurrying hither, thither and yon, trying to remember all we need to do and intended to do. As with all Baby Boomers, I can get distracted rather easily as I move from room to room, seeing too many details that should be attended to. I happened to look out a window and noticed that the landscapers had finally trimmed the shrubs that were masquerading as a forest around our home. Since I could finally see distinct shrubs, I could see little weeds that really needed removing and I also noticed that the lower patio definitely needed to be swept. Well, I reasoned, I have to empty the cat's litter box, so I'll take it down to the lower level, grab the broom and head outside to accomplish many things at once.

I decided to sweep first but as I was sweeping, all the little weeds kept commanding my attention, so I hung up the broom and began weeding. It was during this weeding frenzy that my attention was averted and I never felt the creature climb up inside my pant leg (more like fly up) until it stung me.......big time. I haven't been stung by a flying creature for a number of years and I had forgotten just how much a sting stings. I flailed frantically in an attempt to remove whatever it was that decided to take a bite out of me but to no avail. I was unable to get a visual sighting on the offending creature. Hopefully it is dead somewhere out in my shrubbery. I have a rather large welt just above my knee that talks to me each and every time I flex my knee, which is about every second as I walk about, trying to get everything done.

And so it is with a whining voice that I say, "Pardon, Me", to the now-deceased creature that I offended without intent. As the old saying goes, "You should see the other guy!"

Ancora imparo

Early Coffee

Many of my loved ones are asleep in this hotel. The Three Muskateers and their parents are in one room and my SO is still sound asleep in a wonderful king-sized bed, although perhaps disturbed somewhat since I moved about in order to 'sneak' out of the room.

Here I sit, coffee at the ready, having found stolen moments to type away on a strange keyboard, the touch of which is totally foreign to my fingertips. Most of my family is in the midst of one of our famous whirlwind trips to here and there. We have traveled long hours to rendezvouz for a family wedding in another state. The Three Muskateers and their parents survived an eight-plus hour long car ride, which is no small feat for very young children. For my SO and I, it is only a five-plus hour trip, depending on large-city traffic and the consumption amount of liquids, which can easily elongate the trip by forty-five to sixty minutes. Furthermore, we find, as we 'age', (I really dislike that word.) we simply need more minutes per stop to stretch our bodies' muscles, which become miserable much more quickly than in previous, younger years.

When we all depart this morning, we will begin yet another leg of this car-ride journey, with the next rendezvous being in thirty-six hours, when we will all play together for five precious days. We pray for fine weather, since we will be depending on the elements to cooperate as we live outside in tents and the aqua RV. Parents and grandparents have been preparing for this vacation for days as we've carefully considered just how many people and how much stuff we can stuff into our vehicles and on the aqua RV. Can there really be too many chocolate chip cookies?

As this saga unfolds, I'll be journaling about our escapades in my postings, which will hopefully continue on a daily basis.

This posting must end, as I promised my SO a cup of steaming, fresh coffee in return for being disturbed before the sun has risen.

Ancora imparo

Plenty O' Cats

My sister lives in the country. One of the fortunate, in her county, to reside on a paved road, for many residents' homes are on gravel roads. Dirt is alive and well in rural America. Her home, should she ever choose to sell it, would fetch more on the real estate market simply due to the fact that her road is black-topped.

Not only did the gods smile warmly upon her when depositing her on a paved road for life, but the feral cats of the county seem to have chosen her farm as a favoured place to live.

For as long as I can remember, there have been many, many cats to feed at my sister's place. My sister was raised on a farm and has a deep respect for the typical, domesticized animal, cats in particular. Whenever she opens the rear, garage service door, cats of all ages and sizes come a-runnin', hopeful for yet another pan-full of whatever leftovers they will be lucky enough to feast on. Oh, yes, she keeps their numerous bowls full of good-quality cat food, but the cats know that special treats come in cooking pans. Felines typically have excellent olfactory senses, and my sister's are no exception. The cats can be curled up, seemingly sound asleep in their various nooks and crannies, but as soon as they hear the click of the door's latch, they are on alert. My sister has only to step out and the cats noses begin twitching, ready to catch the faintest aroma of bacon grease, meat scraps, fresh milk, bread cubes.......whatever is scraped from the serving dishes goes immediately to the cats. If there doesn't seem to be enough scraps, full pieces of meat will be chopped and cubed for the kitty-cuisine.

Young ones, old ones, infants.........all the cats are well cared for and have lots of shelter, both from the sun and snow. Her farm is a cat haven from the brutal life of a feral cat. Many of the animals will grow to trust her and allow themselves to be petted and cared for, in the event of illness. She can describe the personality of each cat, when it came, and where it falls in the food-consumption pecking order.

Yes, there are plenty o'cats at Sandra's Cat Chalet.

Ancora imparo

Pseudo Empathy

My naive bubble was burst this past week when I learned that many business, customer-service phone representatives are not actual employees of the concerns they 'represent', but, rather employees of outside call-type centers, trained specifically to speak 'empathetically' with customers. Like most individuals, I was already aware that customer-service call centers are often located outside the soil of the United States, staffed by people who can be difficult, if not downright impossible to understand. But when I heard about the empathy training this one company, in particular, specializes in, I realized that many of the statements I've heard recently, by call-center staffers, are staged, scripted, insincere, and phony.

If a customer-service center message says, "Phone calls MAY be monitored for quality control purposes.", chances are that EVERY phone call is recorded. There are empathy-assessment supervisors who then listen to all the phone conversations, and the call-center employees are judged, rated, and assessed on the quality of their empathetic responses. When you or I receive a customer-service representative's response of "I understand that would make you frustrated.", or something similar, it's a good bet that line is on a cheat-sheet card of responses and the person with whom you are speaking is probably doing eye-rolling at the same time.

There is one, large call-center company that does most of the customer-service-response business for the insurance and credit card industries. Why am I not surprised that this company is the industry leader in empathy training?

My SO says I need to be careful about what I wish for. I know, in theory, that he is correct, but somewhere in my reptilian brain center, I really did wish that when the person on the other end of my phone or online live-chat conversation says to me, in a very caring tone, "I can understand", that it was sincere. These call-center employees are even coached on 'empathy inflection' in their voices.

Perhaps there is an antidote available. We consumers need to have BS-meter software installed on our phones. This meter would begin to loudly chime whenever the level of insincerity reaches the BS level. For some of these conversations, the chime would begin immediately and become deafening shortly into the call.

I sincerely believe this.

Ancora imparo

Hard To Please

My family teases me frequently about being 'high maintenance'. I do not look upon my many quirks as qualifying me to be 'high maintenance', rather and simply, I have preferences. Who doesn't?

So I prefer to eat certain foods one at a time, instead of having a forkful of three different foods? So I prefer my Manhassett music stands to be tightened up and not flip-flopping about?
So I prefer to wipe out all the sinks and leave them sparkling while I'm on vacation? So I prefer to park faaaaar away from other cars in a parking lot? So I prefer to mix up baked goods batter by hand and not use my big, Kitchen Aid mixer? (Well, that one is a little hard to explain. I should use it more.) I could go on and on with this list but it would only serve to prove that the writer of this blog is a little on the particular side.

Every person has their own preferred way to do everything, using preferred products and preferred methods. Being particular doesn't mean one is hard to please......at least not in my book.

We should celebrate our differences and learn different ways to do things from each other. Why, we all might have a trick or two to teach each other.

After all, I'm still learning. How 'bout you?

Ancora imparo

Hair or Hairs?

Since it is a slow 'news' day, I thought I'd write about something that has begun to fascinate me: Hair.

I'm noticing that our society has obsessions with hair that fall into one of two categories - either a human has too much hair, in unwanted places, and is trying to get rid of 'it' or the human has a hair deficiency and wants the appearance of more.

Furthermore, to interrupt myself, I want to know if 'hair' is singular or plural. Years ago, I had a friend who always referred to a visit at the hair stylist as "getting my hairs cut", which I always thought sounded a little strange. If it was windy, she would be heard saying, "My hairs are out of place!", while another person would say, more likely, "My hair is sure windblown." My friend was adamant about the idea of her head having more than one hair on it.

Back to my observation about the two 'hair' categories.

Television commercials are split almost evenly, to the point of dichotomy, on their approach to the issue of 'hair'. Madison Avenue has hundreds of minions pushing out new commercials advertising the latest in hair removal products, ranging from creams, to razors, to wax (ouch!). Spas routinely advertise that they can permanently remove unwanted hair. On the flip side, commercials regularly tout hair products to make more from less. Beaming actors, usually male, can be seen with 'before' and 'after' looks - frowns, scowls and female-less with the before shots, glowing smiles and legions of women ogling them in the 'after' shots.

Hair also has a mind of its own. (No pun intended.) In later years, it tends to grow in the darnedest places, becoming more problematic as the person looses good eyesight in sunset years. A tough combination.

I have a meeting to go to. I need to go brush my hair.......or is it hairs?

Ancora imparo

Commas, Not Periods

My former pastor used the phrase "A comma, not a period" in his final sermon describing life's transitions, concluding life-chapters and beginning new ones. That phrase has stayed with me these past few weeks since he delivered the message in his closing chapter with our congregation. Now our new pastors are 'on board' and our former pastor is in place with his new flock. So many transitions happening at once for so many people and families.

My former pastor's phrase must have struck a chord or rung a bell with me because the little slip of paper that I jotted it down on has stayed on my desk, in plain sight, for days on end. This is unusual because, normally, little slips of paper get lost in the shuffle, of my desk-papers, that occurs on a regular basis. Each time I have sat at my desk, the paper has laid there, in my peripheral vision, silently speaking volumes to me.

I know many people who are passing through commas of life as I type. Perhaps we are always passing through life-commas and just are not aware of them. Commas, while purportedly temporary in nature, often feel as though they are permanent. As I ponder commas, my observation is that they often have an initial negative feel to them. Even the commas that will eventually conclude as some of the most wonderful chapters of our lives do not present themselves as 'oh boy!' situations. In fact, commas may begin with tears, fears, and anger, that later morph into smiles, peace and contentment but the transition phase during the one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn is painful and fraught with deep crevasses.

I do appreciate the association of transitions with commas rather than periods because the concept of the comma provides hope, and offers the possibility of growth through change. I guess that is why I gave this blog the name "Ancora imparo" because still I am learning, morphing, changing, and growing.

Although the conclusion of this posting has a period at the end of it, it is really just a comma until the next posting. I'm not out of thoughts......yet.

Ancora imparo

Trixadexaphobic?

This is so silly, but when I signed out from my last posting, I noted that particular posting was the five-hundred and thirteenth posting, which made my brain go about a thousand miles per second, and, voila! there was another topic on which to blather.

The word, trixadexaphobia, which, loosely interpreted, means a fear of the number thirteen, has always fascinated me. I know a few individuals who really are trixadexaphobic, taking their fear of thirteen to heights known only to the people who are featured on the cable show, "Obsessed". Some, many, or maybe even all, hotel chains will purposefully exclude the number thirteen from their floor/room-numbering systems. While I do not consider myself superstitious, I would chose not to stay in a hotel room on a thirteenth floor. And, had my SO and I been so predisposed to a large family, I would have stopped at twelve children, not wanting to have a child go through life as the dreaded thirteenth offspring.

On the other hand, I could have made exceptions to the general avoidance of thirteen 'somethings'. I could happily have thirteen puppies (imagine the newspapers you would go through), thirteen doughnuts (see yesterday's blog), thirteen Storheims custard cones (just deliver me to the undertaker afterward), thirteen sports cars, and thirteen boxes of hot chocolate mix. (To understand the latter reference, you will have to speak to my children.)

Thirteen of something doesn't have to have a negative connotation, it just depends upon thirteen 'what'. Thirteen earwigs, spiders, ants, Japanese Beetles, or bad pop singers? No thank you.

The end of Posting Number Five-hundred and Fourteen. I'm safe!

Ancora imparo

Independent Thinkers

Google reminded me that today, besides being our nation's Independence Day, is also Rube Goldberg's birthday. What a perfect combination, to say the least, of independence and thinking. Rube Goldberg was a genius who didn't, or perhaps couldn't, think inside the box and for that, we should all say "Thank you, Rube!".

This, then, made me think of all of the school children I have known, and all of the parents who still talk to me about how our country's 'version' of school just doesn't 'suit' all children. I understand the logic behind 'educational warehousing', where one model works best to educate the largest number of students at one time. School districts, nor our nation, simply cannot afford the one student/one teacher ratio that would be necessary to offer 'concierge' teaching to each student. But I have seen, first-hand, the lost student who falls through the cracks because we have a one-size-fits-all model of education.

Across the nation, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Rube Goldberg-type students who are trying to fit their round brains into the square school desks of their respective districts. Students who simply cannot learn through traditional methods, get labeled as 'problem' or 'troubled', when, in fact, they possess a brilliance that is either misunderstood or goes unrecognized.

Before the readers of this blog throw brickbats at me, please understand that I do comprehend the necessity of proper behavior and discipline in the classroom. I taught a subject where my classroom usually had twice the number (or more) of the traditional classroom and every student of mine had a 'noise-maker' in his or her hands. I KNOW the need for esprit d'corps. But I also recognize the need for the possibility of customized teaching, whenever possible and practical.

I salute the independent thinkers who championed our nation's breakaway from her mother country and I salute independent thinkers, such as Rube Goldberg, who have helped shape our nation into the great country she has become.

Happy Independence Day, America!

Ancora imparo

Caught In The Trap

My intentions were good....pure. In my head and in my heart, I knew what had to be done. Get up, throw on some clothes, get out there and pound the pavement, walking as quickly as these aging bones can go. My SO and I slept slightly longer than usual, but we were not deterred by the rapidly rising thermometer. Grabbing the letter that had to be mailed, we set off toward the Post Office, sticking to shaded sidewalks wherever possible. As we neared the Post Office, in the near-distance we could see the farmers' market that so many others had spoken of. After depositing the letter I sweetly said to my SO, "Oh, can we just walk over there and check it out?" He reluctantly agreed and we set off.

I don't know if most readers are regular farmers' market aficionados, but we are. We browse and buy fresh produce whenever possible, choosing to support local producers because it helps their economy and the fruits and vegetables just flat out taste so much better than the cardboard phonies that masquerade for produce during the 'off' season. We picked up a pint of 'first-picking' raspberries, a quart of gorgeous strawberries, some fresh tomatoes and Michigan blueberries, which are always tasty. We agreed that we'd walk back to the Aqua RV, deposit our treats, and continue our walk.

This plan was going all well and good until we arrived back at the marina, saw a gentleman with a coffee cup in hand and remembered that on Saturday mornings, we'd read that the marina offered complimentary coffee in the lounge area. My SO and I looked at each other and said, almost simultaneously, "Let's go get some coffee." I didn't see this as a problem. Other than a long list of why I should not drink coffee, I really enjoy a cup, first thing in the morning. Up the stairs we went and entered the lounge. Upon approaching the coffee area, we spied the unmistakable sight of a white-cardboard bakery box, right next to the coffee.

What, you might ask, is your problem?

You see, I am on a special diet: The See-Food Diet. When I see food, I eat it. The Drink-Food Diet usually doesn't give me too much trouble as I stick mainly to water and the occasional cup of coffee, or a sporadic glass of wine. But this See-Food Diet is a killer.

My hand was drawn to the white cardboard box, as though there was a powerful magnet propelling my hand to discover what laid at the bottom of this box. Sure enough, there were rows and rows of cake doughnuts, some with white and chocolate frosting, others were plain or sprinkled with cinnamon. The muscles in my right hand became uncontrollable as my arm reached for the smallest chocolate-covered doughnut in the box. Soon the forbidden food was on a napkin and, before I knew what was happening to me, I was seated at a table, drinking my coffee from the Drink-Food Diet and happily consuming the doughnut from the See-Food Diet menu.

I will have to speak to the marina management about this culinary trap. This was just like a State Patrol speed-trap, only this trap consisted of cake doughnuts. I've never been caught in a speed trap but I surely fell, as a hapless victim, to the doughnut trap.

I couldn't help myself. It wasn't my fault.

Now I HAVE to go for that walk!

Ancora imparo

Feeling Like A Rag Doll

Have you ever felt like a Doberman has been shaking you by the neck? You know, where despite your best plans and efforts, and the "best laid plans of mice and men", nothing goes as you had planned it would.

These haven't been bad days. On the contrary, these past two days have been filled with friends, pleasant surprises, and outright shocking, ironic events. But I do feel as if a Doberman - or some other very large dog breed - had my neck in its jaws and had been shaking its head from side to side.

Sometimes I don't do well when events keep rolling towards me, like ocean waves. No matter the importance of the sequence of events I had in mind, 'things' have tumbled out of thin air, towards me and I've had little control over their timing, let along whether the events should even occur.

Today, for example, my goals were simple........or so I thought. I wanted (and needed) to walk, exercise, eat, shower, run to the grocery store, blog, and make potato salad. A late-morning visit with some friends turned from not needing to have me present at all to a two and a half hour visit and lunch. It was great to see these people and I really enjoyed myself..........but I didn't get my potato salad made or even started! Mid afternoon came, and I declared I needed to get 'crackin' at the potato salad.

Potato salad, from scratch is putzy, at best. and takes time, from the beginning of the peeling of the potatoes, to the boiling and shucking of the eggs. Since I was working in a very small space, I had to keep washing and drying various items so I had space in which to maneuver. I had no sooner started the process than we had more guests that stopped in to see us. Again, a great hour and a half visit, but still no potato salad. The boiled potatoes were OK on the counter but as soon as the eggs had cooled, I had to excuse myself and run down to refrigerate the hard-boiled eggs. From start to finish, the potato salad took about three and a half hours. Finally, it was completed, the bowl covered, and placed on ice.

Now a new chapter of the day is beginning. I'm looking forward to this. The Doberman has let go!

Ancora imparo

Seafood Heaven

After several disappointing attempts at trying to re-create the seared tuna preparation and presentation you would get in a restaurant that knows how to serve ahi tuna, we finally got it right, and........oh my goodness, what a treat!

We like our beef and tuna rare, with just a touch of searing on the outer sides. Our tuna was prepped with a little EVO, (ala Rachel Ray), minimal salt and freshly ground pepper. We grilled the porcini mushrooms, potatoes and thick Vidalia onion slices first. When they were ready, Chef and Capt. SO took them off the grill, cranked the heat up to 500 degrees, and placed the beautiful tuna steak on the grill plate. Two minutes to a side, just a touch of fresh lemon, and, ooh, perfection.

It was a thick steak, almost two inches in depth and had arrived right off the plane and into the store. Capt. SO and I were in the grocery store, walking past the seafood counter and he spied this huge ahi tuna slab being placed in the display cabinet. He spun around quickly, asked the clerk a few questions and, before I knew what was happening, had a steak being sliced from the slab. The portion was large enough that there is left-over tuna to top a green salad tonight. More seafood heaven.

Today the aqua RV is leaving the dock. Finally, less wind. We'll look for a suitable place to lower the dingy and go searching for some bluegill, rock bass and perch - probably small, but very tasty. I envision another seafood meal in our future.

Time to go get those lines readied and engines warmed up. I can taste the fish already!

Ancora imparo