Back to Back Ws

I was full of bowling news as I settled into the dentist's chair. My cleaning and checkup had been scheduled months ago, before the bowling league changed our start time from 10 to 11, and I'd had to rush to make the appointment on time. 

I had also told my team and our opponents I was on a deadline, so everyone picked up the usual leisurely pace. Whether because of or in spite of my focused game, I ended up bowling pretty well —winning two of the three games myself with scores of 145 and 139. 

My hygienist has been cleaning my teeth for about five years now, and he is wonderful: fast, gentle, unscolding, and a good conversationalist, too. When I was working, he always asked about school, my classes, and students, and now that I'm retired, we talk about my other activities. He was really into the bowling conversation, too, or at least he convincingly pretended to be fascinated by the minutiae of the game, the weighted balls, oil patterns, and arcane league rules. He was also interested in the fact that even though they are senior leagues, some of the bowlers still crush it.

"Oh yeah," I told him during a spit break, "they regularly call out the people who have bowled over 200, and there are at least five every week."

"That's going to be you someday soon!" he said as he finished polishing and flossing. "We are just about all done here," he added. "And you definitely get the prize for the easiest mouth to clean today!"

"Thanks!" I replied. "I'll report back in 6 months."

Traces of Change

There was just the slightest hint of a cool breeze when I took Lucy out around 6 this evening. And the shadows were on the verge of getting long in the faintly golden hue of sunlight. All the pools were closed, and there were no signs of any cook outs or picnics. 

Then, as we rounded a corner we met a neighbor and former colleague who is now a high school principal. She, too, had her dog on leash, but they were not on a walk, far from it. She was wearing her pajamas, and seemed about ready to turn in for the night.

So long, summer.

Mad Money

"Would you have any interest in walking Berto a couple of times a week?" a neighbor texted this morning and offered me a nominal payment.

"As long as you're flexible about time and days," I replied. 

"Very flexible!" she answered.

And since I usually walk Lucy every afternoon, unless it's really hot or raining, why not? I can help out a neighbor, and bonus! It's yet another addition to my retirement resume.

Never Too Many

Every year, I remind myself not to plant too many Sungold cherry tomatoes, but it seems like no matter how many or how few plants I start with, I end up with a hell of a lot of cherry tomatoes. This year, my response has been to dehydrate them and then grind the desiccated little fruit into powder. It's an elegant solution, for the result is jewel-toned, golden, and intensely flavored, both beautiful and delicious. 

I guess there's no such thing as too many tomatoes.

Pumpkin Power

As I carried my big pumpkin home yesterday, I remembered the last time I'd had a tiny bit of success with pumpkin growing. The year was 2019, and despite the garden being a bit neglected because we had spent the entire month of August in Minnesota with my mom as she battled cancer, by early October I had a pretty little softball-sized pumpkin, which I proudly posted a picture of on our family photo blog.

Coincidentally, some good friends of my mom's shared a picture of the huge pumpkin they had grown with her the same day. When she showed the photo to my sister, who was out there with her, Courtney said, "Don't show Tracey!" I saw it anyway, and I've always thought it was funny and sweet how they wanted to shelter me from pumpkin envy. 

Next, my thoughts turned to Anne and Lowell, the pumpkin growers themselves, and I wondered how they were, because we had fallen out of touch in the seven years since my mom died. You can imagine my amazement then when my phone buzzed a few minutes later with a text message from Anne! 

It turned out that she had inadvertently texted me instead of another Tracey she knew, so we exchanged a few messages catching up, and she ended our conversation warmly: Guess I was meant to say hello and connect with you today, too!

The Great One

Welp, it's taken me sixteen years of gardening, but I FINALLY did it.

 I grew a big pumpkin!

Sneex Peak

My friend Mary and I usually take a walk whenever we get together, but it's been a few weeks since I've seen her, and it's been so hot that I suggested doing something else today. What that might be, I had no idea, but fortunately, Mary was more resourceful than I. How about the Inventors Hall of Fame? she texted, with a link. 

Once I clicked? I was in! 

The IHF is in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office complex located just west of Old Town Alexandria. Street parking was easy to find, and once we turned onto Dulaney Street, we followed the colorful trademark seals on the sidewalk to the Madison Building. Security guards checked our IDs on the front steps and ushered us through the huge revolving door into an atrium lined with banners showing trademarked items such as Haas avocados and Honeycrisp apples, and small display cases with miniature prototypes of familiar, patented items from history, like a horse-drawn fire truck and a railroad light. 

We were a little confused as to where the actual museum was, but as Mary pushed through the door to the gift shop, we were greeted by a friendly docent. "You actually have the museum to yourselves," she told us. "Let me give you an overview and show you around a little."

She led us into the gallery space and explained how the exhibits were arranged. "On this wall you'll see information about the most recent inductees," she pointed. "Like Sara Blakely. She's the billionaire who invented Spanx!" 

"And they are actually installing the newest exhibit down there," she said, waving to the far end of the room. "It's the dress she wore to the gala when she was inducted."

We nodded appreciatively, and she left us to explore the museum. It was very fun! We started by watching a movie about Esther Takeuchi, who invented a compact lithium battery that can last for up to 10 years in implantable defibrillators. Then we sat in the vintage Mustang on display and tried to guess six trademarked products from clues on the walls. Next, we took a quiz on trademarked mascots in advertising, which we aced, followed by another on the color palette of familiar logos, which we did not ace. 

We were good at spotting the knockoffs in a display with authentic items and their counterfeit counterparts, and had just come back into the main gallery when the same docent hailed us again. "They just finished the display," she said. "You will literally be the first visitors to ever see it!"

We hurried down to where a couple of women were dusting off their hands with satisfaction. "Tell them about the dress," the docent asked one of them. "It has the designs of some of her patented items on it," she told us.

"This was her first patent," the young woman explained, pointing to where the mannequin's right hand rested near the hip. "Sara wanted it in a prominent place. And the shoes are down here near the hem. She knew what she wanted when we talked about the design."

"Wait, you're the designer?" I asked in surprise.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered, nodding humbly.

"What!" I laughed. "We get to be the first ones to see the exhibit AND meet the designer! How are we so lucky? And where is the press? This should be a VIP experience!"