Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Who is Your Navigator?

Whaddayadoin! I cried at the driver who first cut me off trying to go right, but then swerved left and slammed on the brakes.

"He's an Uber driver," Josh told me. "I can see his sticker."

And then I knew what he was doing. He was driving with the guidance of his map app through a very confusing circle. Did I feel a bit more empathetic? Maybe, but in any case, I drove purposefully off to Josh's neighborhood pharmacy to fetch his prescription, guided by my own map app.

It was light rush hour traffic all the way, but the route was unfamiliar to me, and I made a few dicey merges. At last we were almost at our destination which was on the left, and the turn by turn directed me to skip three lanes over, make a quick right, and the an immediate U-turn. My eyes widened and my grip tightened on the steering wheel. Looking in the rearview mirror, I punched the accelerator. "I'm just going to Uber it!" I said, and within seconds, we had reached our destination.

Monday, July 30, 2018

Impossible

There was only one thing to do this afternoon after sitting in a dark theater for two and a half hours, eating caramel and cheese corn, and watching Tom Cruise (who is only 3 days younger than I am) run all over Europe in the latest Mission Impossible movie.

Go to the gym!

Sunday, July 29, 2018

Bad Dog

Lucy is a cat-crazy canine, so much so that she finds the day lilies where one of our neighbor's cats hang out  irresistible whenever we walk by. This morning we ran into her friend Cooper right there, and when their leashes became entwined in the excitement of seeing each other, I dropped Lucy's, as we do. But before I could stoop to pick up the disentangled leash from the ground, she bolted toward the lilies, nose to the ground, hunting cats.

I heard the jingle of her leash ring as it bounced along the parking lot. Giving chase, I whistled and called her back, LuLuLuLuLu! treats in hand, but she tore off in the opposite direction as if she couldn't hear me. Suddenly she stopped and dashed up some steps, sprinting up and down a walkway that runs along several back gates. She skid to a stop, nose-punched one open, and hurtled inside, gate banging closed behind her.

I, too, mounted the steps, me two at a time, thrust open the gate, and grabbed the collar of my naughty dog, and dragged her away from the neighbors sliding glass door, where she was crouched, staring and waiting, presumably for the cats. As we quickly exited the yard, I glanced to my left. One of the cats was watching the whole show from a patio chair pushed under the outdoor table, and I think she was more than a little amused.

Saturday, July 28, 2018

What You See

The Tidal Basin was very pleasant at 4:30 this afternoon. The sun was low enough in the west to offer plenty of shade beneath those famous cherry trees, there was a soft breeze, and the water was dotted with bright blue paddle boats. As Heidi and Lucy and I walked up and around toward the Jefferson Memorial, there was also something else. The unmistakable silhouette of a scooter beckoned from the end of a pathway. Within moments I was rolling up and down and all around the deserted tree-lined drives and shady lots on the south side of the grounds.

In the years since 2001, all the roads that lead directly to the monuments, memorials, and government buildings have been barricaded and blocked; usually I find the added security a depressing reminder of the contentious world we live in, but today? It was a scooter's paradise.

10 minutes later, the scooter was parked, locked and ready for the next free spirit who chose it, and we were on our way.

Friday, July 27, 2018

Going Bananas

There is one crop that thrives every year in my garden-- whether I have one plant or many, I always have lots of banana peppers. Heidi and Victor like them pickled, and every summer I oblige, but how many pickled banana peppers does anyone eat, really?

The answer is, less than we have, since we still have at least a pint or two, and so this week I've been looking for some other options for that huge bowl of peppers on the counter. After reading several recipes, I decided that I would do a riff on aji amarillo paste, a staple of Peruvian cuisine, but one that kept the traditional flavor profile of the banana pepper, specifically part of an Italian sub, or as we called them growing up in South Jersey, a hoagie.

With that in mind, I seeded my peppers, blanched them, and shocked them in some ice water. After a thorough draining, I combined them in the food processor with a hefty portion of fresh garlic, some oregano and basil, black pepper, really good olive oil, and a little red wine vinegar. The result?

Mwah!

Hoagie in a jar! (With a little sunshine thrown in!)

Thursday, July 26, 2018

Punch in the Gut

Those dang infinity stones!

As I sat in the cool darkness of the theater this afternoon enjoying the light-hearted family fun of Ant Man and the Wasp, I had completely forgotten about the catastrophic ending to the latest Avengers movie... until the credit scene.

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

Tomatoes? What Tomatoes?

There's been a lot of rain here, and we're expecting more. Generally, I try to go with whatever weather there is, especially in summer, because whether the day is hot or rainy or both, it is still a day of vacation.

Even so, I have kept a sharp eye for standing water and the predicted flash floods, but I was a bit surprised, when they closed our pool yesterday due to "dangerous conditions." After that, perhaps I should have expected that when I arrived at the Wednesday afternoon farmers market today many of the usual vendors were simply not there.

Oh, I was disappointed in my quest for summer tomatoes, but I did spot a scooter just across the street, and after a quick 10 minute ride, all was forgiven.

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Home Boy

Josh is taking a 2-day motorcycle safety course in an outer suburb, and so he asked if he could stay with us and borrow the jeep.

"You sure can!" I texted him back, and when we rolled in at 8 last night we found the boy lying on the couch, watching TV, and petting the cats. "Want to go out for ramen?" I asked, needlessly.

"How about ribs and potato salad for dinner tomorrow night?" Another needless question. "And some cream of broccoli soup to take home with you?"

"Yes, yes, and yes!" he answered. "Thank you!"

He has had to rise at 6:30 the last two days to make it to his 10 hour class, and so right now he's back on the couch snoozing way, as the ribs braise and the soup cools. It's good to have him home!

Monday, July 23, 2018

Scoot 4 Life

"Wow!" I said to Annabelle this morning at 8:45, "you're up early!"

"I want to go scooter before you leave," she told me and checked the app on her mom's phone. "There's one right down the street!"she reported.

"Let me finish packing the car," I said, and a few minutes later after closing the hatch on the Subaru, I crossed the street and looked around the corner. I could see the scooter half a block away, but to my dismay, I also saw a guy approaching it, phone in hand. I lurked hopelessly on the corner, but my heart sank when I heard the beep beep of the scooter unlocking. The guy straddled it, but then shook his head in either frustration or confusion. Miraculously, he stepped off, and walked away.

By this time, Annabelle had joined me on the corner. "I wonder if there's something wrong with it," I said pessimistically as we walked down the hill. But there wasn't. The scooter unlocked and I rode it back to the house so Annabelle could get her helmet.

"We don't have much time," I told her as we rolled up the hill in the golden morning light. A light breeze blew as we approached the park, and a few glorious minutes later we were scootering up and down the rolling pathways.

"You guys look awesome!" smiled one woman as we passed. "I wish I had a camera!"

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Taking Flight

And on our last day in Atlanta...

There was scootering!

At noon, I checked the app and saw that there was an available scooter a few blocks away. "I'm going to get it!" I announced. "I might be back!" Then I paused, reconsidering my words. "Well, okay, I'll definitely be back, but I might have a scooter." And off I went.

The first scooter was nowhere to be found, and so I pressed on. As I neared the location of the next closest ride, I kid you not, a white BMW pulled up and a young woman hopped out, phone in hand. Her driver shrugged and smiled at me. Unfortunately for both of us, though, there was no scooter at that location. But there was an icon down the road and around the corner on the map, and so I power walked that way, making sure to enjoy the pleasant breeze and the lovely shaded southern sidewalks along the way.

Turning the final corner, I knew that today? Three's the charm. I stepped up to the scooter, and unlocked it with my phone, scanned my driver's license, and at last! I was off.

I scootered up the sidewalk and into the shady street. Zig-zagging here and there, and marveling that such a device might be so easy to ride and so fun. It was on the last three blocks, straight up hill, to my sister's house that I really appreciated my convenient little ride, and I rolled triumphantly up the driveway.

Not long after that, Courtney, Annabelle, Heidi, and I were all at the park with my trusty scooter, AKA, BY17. Everyone gave it a roll, but no one quite loved the ride as much as I did. That is until Annabelle and I bent the rules and rode double down the path. And that was how we spent the next hour-- sun on our shoulders, wind in our hair, nodding to the many, many other scooters, rolling through the park.

Props to Josh for being exactly right-- it was more fun than I thought it would be, and you all know how much fun I thought it would be!

I can't wait to ride again!

Saturday, July 21, 2018

Strike Zone

We called this morning to reserve a lane at the local bowling alley. "Uh," said the attendant, "we don't do that on weekends, but at 1:30? I don't think you'll have any problem."

When we were younger, my dad used to take us bowling. It was a fun hour or so where we all could haplessly throw heavy balls at pins, he could drink a pitcher of beer, and we could enjoy a basket of popcorn and a soda. I can still picture my dad's right foot, clad in olive and burgundy rental shoe, gracefully kicking back and to the left as he spun his bowling ball right into the 1-3 pocket for a strike.

Later on in college I took bowling as one of my PE requirements, and I have to say that I spent many cold snowy upstate NY afternoons in the toasty little 8-lane bowling alley tucked away behind the field house on campus. Back then, I always chose a yellow eleven pound ball, I would rotate my wrist from 2 o'clock to 10 on the last of my three steps to the line, and my best score was a 230. So, a hot summer day in Atlanta seemed like a perfect opportunity to take Richard and Annabelle on what is practically a traditional recreational experience in our family.

"What's your bumper policy?" I asked the attendant as we traded one of our shoes for two of theirs.

"Really little kids, only," she told me, and off we went intrepidly to test our skill against Lane 28. The guy on the phone had been correct: it was not very crowded, and we had no trouble gathering a rainbow collection of balls ranging from 8 to 12 pounds.

"I'm glad I'm not first," Richard remarked when he looked at the video screen that would be our scribe and mentor for the next 90 minutes, but he needn't have worried. We all weathered the bumps and blemishes in our skills to bowl two complete games, as well as enjoy hot dogs, chicken tenders, fried green tomatoes, nachos, and a couple of blue raspberry icees. And in the end? It turned out pretty even, and although 230 was never within range, we had a pretty good time.

Friday, July 20, 2018

Early Risers

We had plans with cousin Elaine for lunch, and so I quietly shook Annabelle awake at 8:19 this morning. "Want to make cinnamon rolls and pizza dough?" I whispered, and she was up like a spring and filling the kitchen with happy chatter as we we measured, stirred, and kneaded. Then we turned our handiwork into a couple of bowls, covered them with tea towels, and placed them on the back of the stove to rise, while we went to get dressed for the day.

An hour later we punched the airy pillows down, wrapped the pizza dough for later, rolled the buns, and set them back to rise again, before popping them into the oven. And not long after that, we packed up some warm sticky buns and peaches, loaded Lucy in the car and headed over to check out Elaine's new digs.

(Annabelle’s post for today is here.)


Thursday, July 19, 2018

The Age of Aquarium

Even though we all agreed in advance that the aquarium would be a fun activity for the group, Richard was having second thoughts this morning. At 12, family fun just doesn't seem that fun to him. Even so, he is a man of his word, and so he was ready to go at the designated time.

When Richard was a little guy, the aquarium was one of his favorite places; his parents even had an annual pass, and I do think I detected a little spring in his step as we exited the parking garage and headed toward the entrance. That goofy smile on his face in the picture booth was genuine as well, and he knew just where he wanted to start our afternoon: we went straight to the Cold Water Quest exhibit with the Belugas, penguins, puffins, and sea otters. Next it was on to and under the amazing 6.3 million gallons of seawater in the Ocean Voyager galleries.

There, both Richard and Annabelle climbed into the giant porthole window, and found a seat on the floor in front of the huge viewing window, and for a moment, the little guy was back.













(For Annabelle's Aquarium Adventure click here.)

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Cinna-bueno!

Annabelle was skeptical.

She wanted to make frosted cinnamon buns a la Tasty and was very interested when I told her that I had a fantastic recipe.

But...
the pumpkin?
the dates?

It just didn't sound delicious.

"We can make both recipes," I promised, "and do a taste test."

But this morning, we only had the ingredients for mine. "We can go to the store and make both later," I suggested.

"Let's just make yours," she said, which was fine with me, because as I said, I love my easy vegan recipe.

And so we did. The dough came together beautifully, rose quickly, and rolled perfectly, and the pureed dates with cinnamon were the very picture of gooey filling. A little chai glaze and vanilla frosting, and the smell alone had everyone in the house hanging around the oven.

To her credit, Annabelle admitted that they were delicious, and since they are almost gone? Our plan is to make another batch on Friday.

(Here's what A-belle has to say about the C-buns.)

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Can't Buy Me Fun

Another day, another scooter I didn't ride.

The stars seemed aligned for me, too. A guy was dropping fully charged scooters off right outside the place Annabelle and I went to buy our lottery tickets. "I got you!"he said and made sure everything was in working order. I opened the app, snapped the QAR code and prepared to have more fun than I even thought I would, when a new window appeared on my phone. Scan drivers license it prompted. I was on foot with cash and my phone, but no wallet. Alas, no scooter ride either.

Hopefully those mega million numbers will be luckier than that!

The day was very full without scooting, though. Heidi, Annabelle, and I found a fun indoor mini-golf place, complete with black lights, lasers, monsters, and an arcade. It was a little hard getting into the groove with neon lights flashing across the green as you putted, but we had a good time. When Annabelle turned our score card in, though, the attendant took one look at it and asked, "Who's H?"

"Aunt Heidi," Annabelle answered.

"Well give her this," the girl handed her a pass for a free round, "because she needs the practice!"

Maybe so, but we had better luck in the arcade. For the first time in my life, I even put the high score on a game. It was the basketball hoop, and I drained 25 in 2 minutes. After Annabelle spent our 31 tickets, we grabbed lunch and headed home, where even more adventures awaited, including brownie pops, a farmers market, shrimp and grits, and even porch time.

Maybe I'll get that scooter tomorrow, when I'm a millionaire.

(But don't just take my word for it-- Annabelle wrote about it here.)

Monday, July 16, 2018

Dream House

We were doing some back-to-school- shopping for Annabelle at the mall today when we stopped into the Apple store. A rising 5th grader who isn't scheduled to get her first phone until middle school, Annabelle headed straight for the iPhone X display. Even though they have been out for months, I haven't seen the latest from Apple in person, and so I was curious myself. We stood side by side playing with the apps and camera and figuring out how to navigate with no home button.

"This is a pretty nice phone," I admitted.

"They're a thousand dollars!" Annabelle cried. "iPhone X for X-spensive!" she finished.

"Yeah," I said, "but don't you want one?"

She shrugged. "Of course!"

"I'll buy you one when we win the lottery," I promised her. "We can all have one!"

"And a car?" she asked.

"I guess it depends on how much we win," I answered. "If we have enough, sure. What else would you want?"

She paused. We are both very privileged to have pretty much all we need and most of what we want, iPhone X X-cepted.

"How about a big beach house right on the ocean that has enough room for the whole family?" I suggested.

Her whole face lit up. "Yes!"

We spent the next 15 minutes planning out the whole place-- 10 bedrooms, all with their own baths and TVs, a deck, a screen porch, a pool, a game room with a big screen, and the best kitchen ever.

Oh, and an investment account to pay insurance and upkeep on the place. (That was my sister's idea.)

Now we just need to get that winning ticket.

(For Annabelle’s version of the day, click here.)

Sunday, July 15, 2018

Birdless

"It's more fun than you even think it will be!" Josh told me a few weeks ago when we were talking about the pop-up electric scooter rentals that were dotting the corners of our neighborhood. "You will really like it."

I downloaded the app, created an account, and was ready to ride except... there wasn't a scooter nearby when I wanted one, we left town, I forgot about it, and we left town again.

"Do you guys have those Bird scooters near you?" my sister asked me this morning.

"Oh my gosh, yes!" I answered. "I can't wait to try one! Have you done it yet?"

She looked a little surprised. "Um, no. We've been too busy hating on them because no one who uses them here wears a helmet or follows any traffic rules. They are all over the park and the Beltline, and someone is going to get seriously hurt someday soon."

"I would follow the rules," I said. "And Josh told me it's more fun than you even think it will be."

On the way home from lunch we saw one of the simple black and silver machines parked just a few blocks from the house. When we got home, I pulled up the app on my phone. "There's one right down the street!" I reported. "Let's go!"

We decided to combine scooting with shopping, and a little while later we set off. "There it is!" I pointed excitedly at the opposite corner. "My scooter! I'll be back for you!" I called and on we continued to Trader Joe's. Not 20 minutes later we were on our way home, but the scooter was gone! Someone else had rolled away with my first ride.

Crestfallen, I pulled out my phone. There were no others available on the way home, but there was one a little past the house and around the corner, so we dropped the groceries and Courtney, Annabelle and I trotted up the hill. It's more fun than I even think it will be! I told myself.

Arriving at the spot marked by the pin on the map, we found... nothing. Josh had told me that some people near him lock the scooters up on their property so that they will have them, even though it's against the rules. I could have reported it missing, but since I was still inexperienced with the process,  I sighed and let it go.

The app showed one more option for us, about 4 blocks to the south, but the winged icon kept appearing and disappearing. My sister was optimistic. "Let's go see," she said.

Why not? I thought. It's more fun than I think it will be!

"There it is!" I said as we approached a bike-share station, and as the three of us neared the corner, a white van pulled up and 2 guys jumped out and grabbed the 2 scooters that were leaning against the rack. After a lot of conversation and phone-checking, they hopped on one of the scooters and rolled away as we stood, jaws open.

I shook my head. "That was not meant to be."

And the three of us turned toward home, vowing to scoot another day. How can we not? It's obviously going to be more fun than I even think it will be.

(EXCITING WRITING NEWS!!! This week Annabelle and I are going to post each of our versions of the same topic. For Annabelle's version of the tragic trilogy of lost scooters, click here.)

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Rapid Transit

We made it to Atlanta in 10 hours with 2 stops:
one for peeing
and one for peaches.

Friday, July 13, 2018

Share and Share Alike

It has been very dry here for the last several weeks, and I have spent every morning when I'm in town thoroughly watering the garden. Even so, aside from a handful of banana peppers, any significant harvest is still a few weeks away. There's always that first tomato, though, that swells and ripens well ahead of any others. That one I was looking forward to picking today before heading off to Atlanta tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the birds had other ideas. They are so thirsty from the drought that they poke their beaks like a straw into anything semi-ripe. And so I found my first perfect tomato punctured and partially consumed when I went to water this morning.

I gasped and picked it anyway, and when I got home I washed it thoroughly, cut away the birdy parts, and ate it for breakfast.

And it was delicious!

Note to self: Place water bowls in the garden for the birds.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

Can't Complain

I spent the afternoon on my deck in a rocking chair, petting the cats and writing. Tonight my writing group is coming over and we're going to have lobster sliders and corn on the cob.

Not a bad life!

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Finicky

After picking some Maine lobsters for dinner tomorrow night, I had a few scraps and some gorgeous scarlet tomalley left over so I thought I'd give the cats a little treat. I chopped everything finely and presented it to them with a flourish. They trotted eagerly to their dishes and sniffed the unexpected presentation with enthusiasm. Then they stopped, looked at each other, shook their heads in confusion, switched dishes, looked at me, and then literally turned their noses up and walked away.

"I'm not trying to force anybody in this house to eat lobster!" I told them, but then shrugged and sprinkled a couple of pieces of dry cat food over the offensive sea bug. The magical tinkle of kibble hitting metal got them back in the kitchen, and once they were eating, it all was all good, and they ate their lobster, too.

I hoped they enjoyed it, because that's probably the last time it will ever be served to them!

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Jiggity-Jig

The cats are fine.
Lucy is thrilled to see all her doggie friends.
The garden is dry, but doing well.
The cucumbers are now pickles.
The bed is comfortable,
and the sunrise floods our treetop room
with golden light.
There is still a hole in the ceiling,
and the washer and dryer are still broken.
The hanging baskets and containers
are thriving--
full of herbs and flowers.
The refrigerator is restocked.
and we have been to the movies,
a documentary, to be exact.

Monday, July 9, 2018

The Road Rose Up to Meet Us

It was 1 o'clock when we loaded Lucy into the car after a romp and a swim at the amazing dog park from Saturday. "We should have left earlier!" Heidi scowled.

The sky was blue, the sun was warm, and the air was cool. We had stayed for a late breakfast of BLTs, stopped for coffee, and given Lucy a chance to exercise before being cooped up in the car all day. "What's the rush?" I shrugged.

"I don't want to get home in the dark!" Heidi continued.

"It's summer!" I said. "The light will be with us all the way."

And it was. Because we were leaving from a little south and east, the map app sent us a new way home. As we rolled through emerald hills we saw lots of farms and lots of wind farms, too. We drove up and down mountains, past reservoirs and rivers, through battle fields and shrines. We hit zero traffic, and finished our audio book exactly 10 minutes from home. The sun was just setting as we pulled in to our parking lot.

Home!
Our destination was as warm and welcoming as ever.
Our journey?
Was, too.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

You'll Always Know Your Pal

We were back from the falls by noon, and I was restless by 12:30. A lazy search on my phone turned up a promising activity.

"Who wants to do a cave and underwater boat tour?" I asked. Maybe it was the unfolding drama in Thailand or perhaps it was just a lazy Sunday, but there were no takers.

Finally Heidi broke the crickets. "I'll go with you, Babe," she offered. And away we drove, 30 minutes to the north to a town called Lockport, the first big stop on the Erie Canal for eastbound traffic. And why was it such a destination at only 35 miles or so from the big city of Buffalo? Well, the answer is in the name. The canal drops 520 feet from Buffalo to Albany, and a full 60 of them are in Lockport. That means six locks, which could originally accommodate one boat every 3 hours. So the average back up at Lockport was three days, which was very good for the economy.

In addition, the excess water that came from constructing all those locks was redirected through a chase that went around the canal, providing enough hydropower to run three factories-- the first fire hydrant plant, a farm equipment production line, and a pulping mill.

It was those tunnels that we toured today; not an actual cave at all, but hand-excavated subterranean passages blown through the dolomite by miners and Irish orphans working as powder monkeys. Our guide was a young man by the name of Ben who was pretty knowledgeable and had a school presentation style that I found both familiar and endearing. His favorite interactive device was to introduce topics with an invitation: Anyone care to guess... how deep the water is? ...what happened to this factory? ...how many boats could fit? etc. It was simple, but effective, and he did a great job leading our group of 19 adults and 3 children.

"How old are you Ben?" Heidi asked him after slipping him a five at the end of the tour.

"Sixteen," he said.

"You were amazing!" I told him.

In 1918, an updated lock system opened, one that speeded 10 boats at a time through in less than an hour. In addition, electricity meant that the raceways were no longer necessary to power the factories, which closed or relocated, and the tunnels were drained and abandoned.

Lockport's economy declined for the next 100 years. The canal still operates today, though, mostly for leisure vessels like tour boats, house boats, kayaks, and canoes. And this year? In honor of the 100th anniversary of the new locks? Passage through Lockport is free.

And well worth the stop!

Saturday, July 7, 2018

Dog Day

"Let's do something with Lucy," Heidi suggested today, so I consulted a trusty local website to find the best things to with dogs around here. They pointed us in the direction of a state park which was the former farm of the Knox family who, along with their in-laws, the Woolworths, made their fortune in the early variety store business.

The weather was glorious and the park was perfection for pups-- we started at an acres large grassy off leash area where 20 dogs ran and played. Down one of the rolling trails was a sunny little pond where Lucy could swim, and we strolled through shady woods and across fields, past old farmsteads and houses and through a wedding until we returned to the parking lot, but not before we had fresh squeezed lemonade and baked this morning lemon madeleines at the dog friendly cafe on the premises.

Come to think of it, the park was pretty perfect for people, too.

Friday, July 6, 2018

Cardinal Rules

Heidi's folks have worked hard to create a lovely garden-like atmosphere in their back yard, and our summer visits always include lots of time relaxing outside. Of course many birds also enjoy the yard, and one of the frequent visitors this week has been the strangest looking cardinal I've ever seen. The poor little bird is completely missing her crest and the rest of her head feathers!

Her baldness gives her the appearance of a tiny vulture.


She gives the impression of being healthy in all other respects, especially her appetite, and the internet assures me that she is probably just the victim of a bad molt.  It seems that most birds lose and replace their feathers a few at a time all over their bodies during molting season, but on occasion, for unknown reasons, something goes haywire and all the plumage in one area falls out at once.

She should be back to normal in 8-10 weeks, but until then? She definitely stands out in the flock.

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Salty

Heidi's parents invited us to a salt cave experience this afternoon.

Touted for improving respiratory health, anti-inflammation, and general relaxation, we were surprised that Gary and Louise wanted to go, but we were definitely along for the ride. Upon entering the unassuming strip mall shop front, dim lights, soothing music, and pleasant incense met us. We had to sign a few waivers and acknowledge a page of rules and disclaimers, but even the paperwork was not really a buzz-kill. The place was welcoming in an artificial Disney sort of way, and staring at the heavy door guarding the entrance to the faux cave, I suggested an escape room for our next activity.

When three blissed-out people in their 70s floated out and proceeded to make follow-up appointments, I was definitely intrigued, and craning my neck to catch a glimpse inside, I was more than ready to take my foot-protected self right into the cave. Our turn came soon enough, and after picking our way across a beach of loose salt and settling ourselves into zero gravity lawn chairs, we
listened to the story of how Polish salt miners and their super health revealed the benefits of time spent in such a chamber and learned how we would soon be enveloped in an invisible blizzard of micro salt particles.

In perhaps the most stunning turn of events, we were informed that no talking or even whispering was allowed during the 45 minute session. And then the door clicked closed and the relaxing music seemed to grow louder, so we pushed back our reclining chairs, grabbed the fleece blankets, and stared dreamily at the aura lights twinkling from the ceiling.

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

The Fourth of July

We spent our day surrounded by family at a holiday picnic with dogs and toddlers splashing in the pool and tumbling across the shady lawn.

What a privilege!

Happy Birthday, America.


Tuesday, July 3, 2018

What Daddy Likes

Heidi and I both have Upstate New York roots: she grew up in Buffalo and my dad was a Little Falls boy, born and bred just a couple hours east. It makes for a compelling cultural confluence; there are just so many vaguely familiar elements to the time we spend up here that something almost always seems to conjure up my dad.

For example last night we were talking about food we ate as children and lost family recipes. "My mother made a goulash that Gary loved," Louise told us, "but we've never been able to recreate it. He's always excited when he sees it on the menu, but he's always disappointed."

This conversation came at the end of a story about how the family was so poor when she was growing up that Louise's mother made spaghetti sauce first with ketchup, and then with tomato soup. "The first time I had real spaghetti I couldn't stop eating it," she told us."It was so much better than anything we ever had!"

"My dad used to love goulash when I was little," I said, "and it was made with, guess what? Tomato soup! I wonder..."

"Oh my gosh!" Louise interrupted. "Maybe tomato soup was the secret ingredient!"

"It makes sense," I replied. "I do know how to make it. It was one of the first things I learned to cook, along with creamed chipped beef, because they were my dad’s favorites."

Guess what's on the menu for Thursday?

Monday, July 2, 2018

Tucking In

We were roadtripping to Buffalo today, and as excited as I was to hit the highway, listen to some podcasts, eat car snacks, and sing really loud to the radio, and, of course, see my in-laws, I was concerned about my garden.

After
all
that
rain,

the last week has been
really hot
and really dry,

and my little plants were showing some signs of stress. With no rain in the forecast until Friday at the earliest, I rose early this morning to water for at least an hour and add some mulch to keep those guys as green as possible.

It was kind of a magical way to start the day.

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Futures Market

We are leaving town tomorrow, so our trip to the farmer's market was meant to be brief: a couple of tomatoes for dinner and some peaches for breakfast before we hit the road. We had quite a few more items on our to-do list.

BUT, those tiny little pickling cucumbers were irresistibly cute.

I did a quick calculation in my head: brine them today...
pickles in a week?
Just in time for our homecoming!

Sold to the lady with more vision than sense.