USDA Choice

Say what you will about meat and its health, ethics, and sustainability issues, but here in the plains states, you have a lot of options, and most of your choices are fresh and local, whether they are marketed that way, or not. Humanely raised? Organic? Those are separate concerns. Still, I confess to being a little bit thrilled to have my choice of prime rib or brisket burgers at the local grocery today.

I had to really think about it.

But I chose prime rib.

Whatever Works

We are staying in a rented condo in Rochester, MN. It is one of eight units in a new building that was constructed as temporary housing for patients at the Mayo Clinic and their caretakers and supporters. Our stay here has been convenient and pleasant: we can walk to the clinic, and there are bike paths, nature centers, and lakes (of course) nearby, not to mention plenty of restaurants, the usual big box stores, and a YMCA.

In the last two and a half weeks we have seen several other residents come and go, from a distance. Some have been here as long as we have and longer, but the circumstances and the crazy hours that we all keep, coming and going from this treatment, that appointment or test, and ultimately the hospital, has added to the natural distance that passing strangers keep.

Even so, it's curious to observe what and how other people carry on their daily lives in this unusual situation we share. Our window overlooks the street where dashers and delivery people park, and so we see mail orders and groceries and dinners on their way to our neighbors' doors.

The two young woman who are staying in the unit next door seem to order a lot of food. Amazon is a frequent caller at both of our doors, and I have heard the faintest of strains coming from a TV late into the night. But this morning? They provided a paradigm shift when at 8 AM I spotted a restaurant delivery guy making his way from the street to our common outdoor staircase.

Breakfast delivered? What a concept!

Another Day, Another Exotic Natural Phenomena

Coming in this morning from walking Lucy around our temporary Minnesota neighborhood, I noticed something curious. Where we had been seemed like a regular, grassy field, so how come my sneakers are orange?

A quick google revealed that the grasses growing there are probably suffering from "leaf rust" a condition caused by rust fungi. Wet conditions and a lack of nitrogen may make some grasses more susceptible, but evidently, it is easily treatable, and most lawns can fully recover on their own.

But what about my shoes?

Tornadic

Even though my mom lives out here, until this summer, I have not spent very much time in the midwest. In addition to the dog parks, I am loving the weather. Sure, there have been a few downpours, and even a couple of hot and muggy days, but generally the days have been a good 10-20 degrees cooler than ours at home.

There was one weather phenomena that slipped my mind, though. Despite being a big Wizard of Oz fan, the thought of any kind of tornado? Fuggeddaboutit! So you can imagine my interest when this afternoon's episode of Jeopardy was interrupted for live weather reporting about the big storms to our west.

Every update is rainbow colored and anchored by a very earnest bespectacled young meteorologist in shirtsleeves, counting down the minutes and specifics of the local warnings, including the height of the clouds, the size of the hail, and the communities that should be sheltering in their safe spots, far away from cars and mobile homes. Incidentally, every update also has the city of Rochester on its map. Oh, we're not in the target zone, but there are definitely some twisters out there!

Oh, and I also learned a new adjective.

Different Rubrics

And the dog park tour of Minnesota continues...

To date? We have been to 4 dog parks in the Twin Cities and 2 in Rochester. Each has had its own character, and Lucy's reactions were not always the same as mine. Out here in the midwest where land is not quite at the same premium as it is in the DMV, most dog parks are expansive and green, and it's fun to either watch Lucy run with abandon or explore field and wood and water all within a protective boundary.

So today when we had the chance to visit the Lyndale Farmstead Dog Park, I kind of expected more of the same. Not so... despite the name, this DP was a vacant lot with a chainlink fence and a crushed gravel surface. Shoehorned in between the Minneapolis Parks and Rec boat yard, a trash and recycling site, and some other industrial infrasructure, the only thing I liked was the canopy that protected us from the drizzle.

 Lucy, on the other hand looooooved it! Perhaps it was because it reminded her of the dog parks at home, or maybe it was just that spunky shepherd-lab mix, Cassius, who ran and wrestled with her just the way she likes, but whatever it was, she had a great time there.

Old Man River

We made a run to yet another nearby dog park this morning-- Just 10 minutes away, the reviews rated it 5! stars.

And
it
was!

Located in Minnehaha Park, a single chainlink gate led to a steady downhill forested trail. There must have been at least 10 dogs and their owners gleefully tramping along with us as we made our way down, down, down...

to the Mississippi River!

Yes! The park included a dog beach that ran along the shores of a lazy bend in that iconic river. Perhaps a hundred feet across from us boaters backed their trailers down a ramp before speeding off to fish, explore, and ski, but on . our side it was all dog! They dashed and splashed and swam and ran joyfully. Lucy loved it!

And when at last it was time for us to head back up the trail to our car, there was a spring in our step and satisfaction all around.

One Way

"That's a stop sign!" my mom warned me as I sped toward an intersection on our way to Target.

I slowed in time, and then shrugged. "It was four-way," I laughed, but I was also problem-solving the near miss.

We had just passed the YMCA near her home, and Mom had asked me where ours was at home. As I eased through the stop sign, I realized that I was 1000 miles away in the navigation part of my brain, visualizing the directions to get to the Y in Arlington. When I almost missed the next turn, I ended the conversation and focused on the route ahead.

Turns out? I can't be in two places at once and follow the rules of the road!

Urban Legend

We were walking Lucy down a nice, middle class neighborhood street yesterday when a beat up van with tinted windows pulled up beside us. Inside were a sketchy-looking couple in their thirties. She was driving; he rolled down the window; she leaned over and called to us. "Have you seen our puppies? They got out, and they're missing!"

"That's terrible!" Heidi replied. "But no, we haven't seen them. Sorry."

The van rolled slowly away.

"Oh my gosh!" I said. "They need another approach! I totally thought they were going to offer us candy and ask us to get in and help them look!" 

Intersection

Worlds collide here at the Mayo.

I stood at a 7th floor window looking down on the weekly summer festival that they have every Thursday here in Rochester. An hour before, Heidi, my mom, and I been down there, sitting at a cafe table in the shade of a high rise enjoying lobster rolls, rotisserie chicken and fish tacos. The main stage was below me, and the canopies and carts stretched beyond my sight, but I knew the arts and crafts and henna and CBD and dog fashion and popcorn and giant cookies and fine food and beverages were offered along three blocks, ending in a whole other stage.

Two women in colorful head scarfs chatted on a bench. Five folks on scooters (Lyme just rolled them out here last week) rolled up to a raised garden and parked along the circle right outside the Gonda Building 2nd street entrance. A young couple, both colorfully tattooed, pushed a patient in a wheel chair toward the elevator. To my right, I caught the strains of a conversation I couldn't ignore: Ashley has the championship pig! a woman told the man in the ball cap sitting next to her in a plush leather chair.

The diversity was staggering. And yet? I knew we were are all drawn there by human need.

Just then, Heidi and my mom returned from the ladies room and we headed to the elevator.

Change of Venue

We spent the afternoon cleaning-- and I kind of liked it. There's something very manageable about maintaining a new and relatively empty space, such as the condo we are renting here in Rochester. Heidi and my mom did the bathrooms while I vacuumed, then they dusted and wiped the counters while I shook out the small area rugs and mopped the floors. In no time we were relaxing in our tidy tree-top apartment, and I, personally, was wondering why the same jobs seem just so onerous at home.

Mayo on the Side

If you have to spend your day at the doctors, the Mayo Clinic is certainly the place to be. In addition to being US News's number one health care facility in the nation, it is beautiful, comfortable, and full of kind and helpful people. In addition to upscale office furnishings, spacious waiting rooms are also outfitted with leather arm chairs, recliners, and tables and chairs. The views from many of the spaces are expansive; the city of Rochester spreads grandly below the high rise windows. Oh, and the art? World class-- my mom and I just happened to pass a series of five floor to ceiling lithographs by Joan Miro on our way to a lab appointment this afternoon.

Even so, a day there is still a day floating like a leaf down the unpredictable river of health care. After waiting for 2 hours in the most comfortable chairs with a most amazing view, we were finally led back to an exam room, where we waited at least 45 minutes longer. So long in fact that my mom had to use the restroom. Returning through the stark white maze behind the curtain, she lost her way and had to ask for direction at the desk. "We're in room 222 in case you need to know," she reported upon her return.

"Room 222?" I exclaimed. "Like the show!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Heidi said.

"What?" I replied. "Mr. Dixon? Karen Valentine?"

She shook her head.

Since I had already completed the sudoku, cryptogram, jumble, and crossword puzzle, and no medical personnel were beating down our door, I googled the show and found a full episode. As the theme music played, I automatically hummed along. "Here comes Mr. Dixon in his convertible!" I said as Lloyd Haines parked his cool orange car in the Whitman High lot.

Over the next few minutes I was wowed by how progressive the show was for 50 years ago. Created by James L. Brooks (his next gig would be The Mary Tyler Moore Show), it was idealized to be sure, but it presented a diverse high school with a diverse staff, and the protagonist was an African American man who I remember loving when I was a kid. It was humorous, but not laugh out loud funny.

How did we even watch this show? I wondered, and the answer was right on Wikipedia-- it aired on Friday night, right after The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family.

And yet, no endless reruns in syndication? But before I could ponder that mystery of popular culture, the doctor appeared at last.

Mama Bear

We were on our way home from the dog park when all heck broke out the car. "Something's wrong with Lucy!" Heidi cried. "She won't settle! I think it's a... BUG!"

Heidi hates bugs.

"What kind of bug?" I asked.

"I don't know! I can't see it! It's there though! I think it bit her!" Panic was rising in Heidi's voice.

"Should I pull over?" I asked, scanning the road for turn-offs and seeing none.

"It's some kind of fly!" Heidi reported.

"A deerfly?" There was one on our windshield when we left the park, and I had felt lucky we hadn't seen any before that. "Is it small and arrow-shaped?"

"That's it!" Heidi said. "It's trying to get her!"

"Swat at it so it doesn't land on her until I can find a place to stop," I advised.

"Oh my god!" Heidi gasped. "I GOT IT!"

Yes! With one mighty smack, Heidi had rescued Lucy from the evil deerfly.

"When it comes to saving my baby," she continued, "I don't play!"

Proper Introduction

If you had asked me two years ago what I thought of self-driving cars, I would have scoffed loudly and likely proclaimed both my distrust and lack of need for such technology. Certainly, my age and driving experience combined to influence my opinion that there was something wrong with trusting a machine to do a human's job.

But about 18 months ago we replaced our 2010 car with a 2018 touring model with all the bells and whistles. Among the safety features? Lane guides and smart cruise control which actually steer the car and hit the brakes whenever the car wavers or gets too close to an obstacle in the front or the rear. All of those things, along with the automatic lights and high beams, are adjustable and voluntary for the driver to use, but...

...after a year and a half and several long road trips, I've discovered that using them makes driving not only easier, but way more consistent and therefore more efficient. (And, this is just a hunch, safer.)

Oh, I'm aware that these features are also probably meant to be a gateway to self-driving cars, but if they are? Consider me hooked!

Mother Knows

"We met your neighbor in the workout room!" I told my mom this afternoon. "He lives right down the hall, and he's on your board."

"Richard," my mother confirmed, and then she cocked her head. "But he must have spoken to you first, right?"

"Yeah!" I shrugged.

What? She couldn't imagine me striking up a conversation with a total stranger?

How well she knows me!

Until Next Week

On our way out of Rochester heading home to the the Twin Cities for the weekend, we stopped at my favorite dog park to give Lucy a chance to run before our mini-roadtrip. At 11:30 AM, the place was deserted, but another car pulled in right behind us, and a chocolate poodle puppy named Tillie and her person joined. Tillie was energetic and respectful-- overjoyed to run at top speed with Lucy and just as happy to follow Lucy's idiosyncratic canine edicts.

All told? Those gals must have run a couple of miles, and it was with a long tongue and some heavy panting that we bid Tillie and the park good-bye.

Senior Tour

Today, when I stepped onto a court for the first time in 36 years, I finally got a chance to use the racquetball racket my nephews thoughtfully gave me for Christmas. I first played back when I was in college, and I loved the game because it was so easy to be a beginner-- I felt like I could play pretty well from the first time I dropped a blue ball onto the wood floor and ricocheted it off a few walls before slamming it again.

My roommate and I used to play 2 or 3 times a week, and my entire PE requirement was fulfilled with a combination of racquetball, bowling, and golf. When I graduated, perhaps the rudest awakening of the "real" world was that I could no longer wave my student ID and do all those things for free anytime I wanted to.

But today, at last, I found myself again smashing blue balls against the walls in an echo-y bright white room with a scuffed up wooden floor. It was a lot of fun! But... not quite as easy as I remember... maybe since I'm not in my late teens anymore, my worries about twisting this or straining that detracted a bit from the game.

Even so, I'm looking forward to reacquainting myself with this fair sport, and I know if it doesn't work out? Pickle ball is always an option!

The Runs

Target Run
Grocery Run
Dollar Store Run
Costco Run
TJ Maxx Run
Drugstore Run

Air B&B?

All set!

But, boy, are my legs tired!

It's Fun to Go to the YMCA

We thought it would be a good idea to join the Y here in Rochester so that we would have a go to place to exercise while we here. It was super easy to sign up online, so today we went down to pick up our ID cards, see the facility, and get in a quick workout.

It was gigantic, and we knew there were locker rooms, 2 gyms, several studios, 4 racquetball courts, a weight and machine room, massage, personal training, 2 pools, and a hot tub. It also turned out to be a place run by children, and at this time of year-- summer camp season-- its focus was also children.

Being teachers came in handy, though: being surrounded by kids felt normal, and we prompted the young employees to give us an overview, if not a tour, of the building. All in all? The place had everything we need, and the price was right. 

To the Dogs

What! Yet another acres-wide, field-of-dreams dog park surrounded by woods and cornfields and community gardens and then? A shopping spree at the pet supply store! Later on, it was a walk on Silver Lake and then along the Cascade Creek.

I'd say Lucy is having a pretty fine vacation here in Rochester, MN.

Outpost Established

Our station wagon was stuffed full when we headed south from the Twin Cities on the last leg of our journey to Rochester, MN. Here, we have rented a comfortable two bedroom loft-style condo which will be our home base for the next three and a half weeks. Like every other vacation rental I have ever stayed in, the place easily absorbed what seemed like way too much when it was jammed into a car, and we already have a list of essentials to buy tomorrow.

After a rainy day of organizing, packing, traveling, unloading,  and unpacking, almost any dinner might have been good enough, but even so, I was able to use some of the provisions we packed and the barebones equipment that was provided to cook a pretty satisfying meal for me, Heidi, and my mom.

We're off to a good start!

Perfect Pit Stop

The hotel we stayed in last night may not have been the best, but we agreed that it was sufficient (although barely) for the 8 hours of our lives we spent there, especially since we slept through most of them.

The dog park we found about 10 minutes away was a whole nother story: situated on the site of a historic homestead and farm, the huge, grassy fenced enclosure was surrounded on three sides by reestablished prairie. At the far end there were a couple of sandy paths that led into a stand of dark hardwoods. Upon further exploration, we found that the park was actually triple the size it seemed-- these woods were also fenced and the several little trails through them designed for dogs and their people to ramble.

The morning was warm and breezy and there were a few friendly dogs for Lucy to run with. After a pleasant thirty minute, the three of us piled back into the Subaru, ready for the next leg of our most epic road trip yet.

Barrington Road

How surprised were we when we pulled into our hotel just outside Chicago at a little after 11:30 to find the reception area packed and a line out the door to check in? Upon further investigation, we found that all the other guests were of Indian descent, many of them dressed in traditional clothing. A quick internet search revealed that we were in a suburb known for its Indian community.

The clerk, too, was a gray-haired Indian guy. “Sorry about the wait,” he apologized when it was finally my turn to check in.

“I had no idea you would be so busy this late!” I said.

“There’s a big wedding and—” he shrugged and swept his arm around the lobby and to the door where 8 more guests were pulling suitcases in. I saw a tall stack of numbered envelopes behind the desk just like the one he handed me with our key cards. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Mismanagement

Heidi had several medical appointments today, and round one was blood work in the lab. It’s a take-a-number system: a little bell rings when the number changes and you show yourself back through the heavy wooden door. As such, the reception window is vacant, but it still offers a portal into the collection sites.

Shortly after we sat down, a high pitched scream pierced the waiting room. What followed was ten excruciating minutes where everyone in the chairs squirmed as a little child hysterically resisted a blood draw. The numbers stopped changing completely as all the lab techs and her grandmother tried to manage the meltdown, and it was heartbreaking to hear her panic rise as well as frustrating to listen to the adults’ misguided approaches to the situation.

At long last we heard the sing-songy voice of a man croon, "You're all finished!" followed by a loud sniff and then silence punctuated quickly by the return of the bell signaling another patient to go back. But all eyes were on the door when it slowly opened from the inside and a little girl in pink trudged out trailed by a stooped woman with gray hair.

"Now I'm afraid to go back there!" one woman told the child in an attempt to leaven the room, but the little girl just wiped a tear and ran down the hallway toward the exit.

No Worry No Cry

We were the only ones at the pool this evening when a quick little cloud burst rolled through. It was obvious that the storm wouldn't last: patches of blue sky and sunshine were visible just over the treetops to the west. Still, the downpour was heavy for a minute or two, and when I looked up to check the sky, the raindrops were individually catching the sun and creating a swirling cloud of sparkling confetti. Mesmerized, I called to Heidi, and then magically, as we swam through the glitter, a double rainbow appeared in the eastern sky.

That's my kind of rain!

All Part of the Game

We bought new soft-sided pet carriers to transport Milo and Tibby to the vet, or where ever else they might like to go that is not accessible by stroller. Their appointment was this morning, so yesterday I put the carriers out to make them a bit more familiar.

Oh my! Tibby was in and out of those cases several time in the first 10 minutes or so. She claimed them as her personal space immediately. Milo? Was not so sure. He sniffed them and observed Tibby's antics from across the room. But when I threw a few morsels of food in there, that guy was in! In fact the carriers were like a little playground last night as the cats dashed in and out and Lucy got her big nose into them, too.

The cats weren't so sure about leaving the house today, but I put them in the backseat so that they could see each other, and when all was said and done, the trip to the vet was a big adventure, and the carriers are just fun little contraptions to hide in.

It Only Seems Fair

It didn’t really seem fair that Heidi was literally having a stress test as I enjoyed my relaxing spa facial that my mom gave me for my birthday, so on my way out, I scheduled a treatment for Heidi to enjoy before we head out on our next road trip.

She’s a darn good wife, after all. 

There's No Doubt about It

When, as a type 1 diabetic, Heidi has a low blood sugar, her remedy of choice is lemonade, preferably? Minute Maid. During the day, at home, cans work nicely; at night juice boxes make the most sense since they are single-serve and can be stored under the bed. And when traveling, bottles are best since they can be opened and closed as many times as necessary without worrying about spills.

Today we were running errands, and it just so happened that we needed all of those. Oh, and did I mention that Heidi's beverage of choice these days is a very potent version of lemon water? So lemons were on the grocery list as well.

As we wheeled our cart toward the checkout, I looked at its contents with an objective eye. "We. have. all. the. lemons!" I laughed diabolically.

Heidi was more philosophical. "Think of all the weird stuff people must buy here," she mused. "You know they have to train the cashiers not to react!"

Sure enough, our lemonade bonanza was scanned and paid for without comment

He's Still Standing

We saw Rocketman today. The fanciful musical biopic of Elton John made me look at his music so differently. It seems impossible that all those songs could have been so autobiographical, especially since the lyrics were written by Bernie Taupin, but... there it was.

After the closing credits we stood in the lobby and chatted with our friends about the movie. "Wow! You really seem to know a lot about Elton John!" someone told me as I was able to plug a few of the gaps she saw in the narrative.

I shrugged. I guess it's true, and it's probably because not only was I alive at the time and recall many of the events, but also because like Bohemian Rhapsody, this film told the story of a person not that much older than I am who nearly ruined himself because his sexuality was considered unacceptable by a society I remember well.

Watching John's struggle was painful, but the underlying anachronism of those times was meant to show how far we have come in the last 50 years. I suppose there is consolation in that.

Home Run

There was no convenient show time any movie we wanted to see at our local theater, but since the temperature was pushing 100,  I searched a little farther afield and found a showing of Spiderman not too far away. "But will they have cheese popcorn?" Heidi wanted to know, because ever since our neighborhood theater added that to the menu, we haven't gone anywhere else, which is not a coincidence.

I searched the chain's website, but a full menu was not available.

"How about Garrett's?" I suggested, since we would be close to the mall, but a stop there was too much time and trouble. "That grocery store with the super cheesy corn is right over there," I said next.

Heidi shrugged unconvinced, "I guess so, if we have time," she sighed.

"Why don't we just see what they have there?" I asked, and in the end, that is what we decided to do.

Despite the heat and the opening of the live action version of The Lion King, the theater was dead, and we bought our tickets and went directly to the concession stand without delay. There on the menu was an item called "Cheetos Popcorn", which was basically a very cheesy popcorn tossed with actual Cheetos.

Good enough!

Reunited!

I was out of the house before 8:30 this morning, off to pick up our CSA share, get my hair cut, and have the car washed all before meeting our friend Mary for a quick stop at school and then lunch in the new food hall now known as Ballston Quarter Market.

The biggest surprise of the day was waiting for me when I hopped back in the car after it was clean. There, on the back seat, was my mitten!

A New Thing

We had some shrimp and scallops in the freezer, so I promised Heidi risotto, one of her favorites. At the garden I picked corn and okra and peppers and tomatoes, so I was feeling a bit of a southern vibe.

The solution? Fusion!

I made a risotto that started with onions, peppers, and celery and was finished with shaved okra, corn, and tomatoes. The dish came out like a silky dirty rice with gumbo overtones and the seafood with lemon, garlic, and basil was very complimentary.

Verdict?

Success! Would totally make again.

Summer Chores

By 9 AM the 4 happy birthday texts of the day were sent, the coffee was made, the dog was walked, the garden was weeded, the tomatoes, okra, corn, and peppers were picked, the flowers on the deck and out front were watered, the robin's nest was removed from the eaves, and I was ready to shower.

It's good to be home! 

My Navigator

In general? I couldn't be more satisfied with the navigation app on my phone. Offering three routes, indicating congestion whether slow traffic or stop-and-go, suggesting time-saving changes enroute, and always giving me my trip mileage and estimated arrival time, I couldn't ask for more. So, when today the app recommended getting off a clear interstate in favor of some local roads, not only did I not hesitate, I gleefully steered toward the opportunity to explore a new and quicker way home.

Uhhh... that was until it directed me into a gas station parking lot, around a fast food drive thru, back the way we had just come, into a U turn at an outlet mall and right back onto the interstate. And our ETA never changed.

Laughing about it later with my brother and sister and mom, we all agreed that my destiny had changed when I took that exit. What actually happened was not what would have happened had we continued forward-- the time, the vehicles, the drivers were all reshuffled, and we drove on with a new deck, arriving safely at home.

Nailed It

The nail salon was full when the four of us walked in a little after noon today, and the young man who did my mani-pedi seemed a little put out to be doing any hands-on work. I had seen him there before, and his role was usually cashier, clean up, and general schmoozer. Unlike most of the nail technicians I have had in the past, who wanted to turn the chair as quickly as possible, this guy took several breaks, ostensibly to allow my feet to soak or my legs to moisturize. When he was at my feet however, he was relatively charming.

Twenty-something, well-muscled, heavily tattooed, and quite deferential to his granny, the elderly Vietnamese woman who ran the salon, he was especially curious about the relationship between Louise, Gary, Heidi, and I. "Well," I explained, "we're married," I gestured to Heidi and me, "and these are her parents."

"Cool!" he said. "How long have you been married?"

"We've been together 21 years," I told him, "and married 5."

"Did you wait until it was, like, legal, to get married?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," I answered.

"But did you, like, get married right away, as soon as you could?"

"Pretty much," I nodded.

"Well, that is awesome!" he said, and then went off to do something else.

Somehow? It didn't bother me at all.

One Woman's Treasure

I love a good junk, er antique, shop. There's something very satisfying about poking around dusty displays hunting for treasure. Oh, the bounty I find is rarely a valuable item priced well below its worth; my reward is usually in spotting something I remember from my childhood that I haven't seen or thought of for decades.

Over the years I have been reunited, briefly, record albums, collectable glasses, Christmas plates, toys, and lunch boxes. Usually those items are priced a little too high for me to reacquire them, or at least high enough to make me consider why we parted in the first place. I do actually own a few things that are replicas of stuff we had when I was a kid.

The set of pyrex mixing bowls in turquoise and white with the farmer design is a prominent example. The largest bowl of that set is what my dad always used for popcorn when he made it on nights he was babysitting us. I can still remember dragging my finger through the salt and butter pooled at the bottom of the bowl when all that was left were the unpopped kernels.

Several years ago, my mom found sets of those bowls and gave them to the three of us for Christmas. You can bet I always put my popcorn in the popcorn bowl. And today, wasn't I surprised to find not something that I used to have, but rather something that I actually have now for sale in a junk, er, antique store.

Now that's a sign of age!

Par for the Course

One of the minor motifs of this summer so far has turned out to be miniature golf. A couple weeks ago we were flipping channels one evening after dinner and we happened on Holey Moley, a tongue in cheek reality show where contestants compete for 25,000 bucks and an ugly green plaid jacket on an extreme mini golf course.

If they had me at mini-golf, they kept me when the first player got knocked off the green not once but three times as she tried to run through giant windmill to take her second shot. I couldn't stop laughing, and we have giggled through several episodes of the silly show since then.

There was a time back when I was in my twenties and lived at the beach that I played miniature golf all the time. I wasn't great, but I was pretty good; my best score ever was a 33 on a par 36 Putt Putt course. I still enjoy the game, and I would play more often if there was a convenient course and some willing competitors in my life.

Today, those conditions were met. Heidi, her mom ,and brother, and I set out for a local mini-golf course. Oh, the competition was tough, but I hooked my pinkies together the way my golf instructor showed me in college, lined up the heels of my flip flops, and used the siting feature on my club to sink most of my putts. In the end? I know I was the winner in both rounds we played, even though the other players claimed we "weren't really keeping score."

Too bad there weren't any giant windmills.

Only So Much

We spent the afternoon on the Roycroft Campus in East Aurora, NY.  Founded in 1895, it was a community of artists and craftsmen and part of the American Arts and Crafts movement. Today it remains an artist cooperative and is a National Historic Landmark. We ate lunch on the shady porch of the Roycroft Inn, a beautiful setting with unfortunately mediocre food.

There were many lovely things to admire in both the Inn and the shops, though, and among them were several versions of a William Morris quote that I heard long ago, but had forgotten. Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful. 

Considering his words, I did a quick inventory of just a few of the many, many possessions we have in our home, and while most of them fit well in one category or the other, we left East Aurora with no more than what we owned when we arrived.

Go Go Go!

For the past few days I have been gleefully posting screen shots on social media of the perfect weather we have been having up here in Western New York. Well... today brings the first 90+ degree heat of the year for this area and all its attendant issues. It's too hot to play outside and there's nothing to do inside.

What's that you say? Vacations are meant for relaxing?

Don't be silly!

Cornhole anyone?

Souvenirs

Sometimes it's not enough for me to simply walk through a beautiful place. On beaches I search for shells, shark teeth, and sea glass. On hikes in Maine, it's a hunt for blueberries or the smoothest rock. In corn mazes I have been known to gather husks and fashion dolls as I navigate my way through.


And today it was wildflowers. There were so many different blooms and blossoms in the fields and meadows on the farm where we took Lucy to run and swim, that I picked a sweet little bouquet as we walked in the sunshine serenaded by larks and red wing blackbirds.

International Sensation

On our visit to the falls last Christmas, we spotted a small sign that we had never noticed before. Pedestrian Walkway to Canada, it read, and the die was cast. Heidi's brother Mark and I agreed to bring our passports this summer so that we could WALK! to Canada.

"Can Lucy come?" was Heidi's only question, and a quick internet search revealed that yes, indeed, dogs can walk to enter Canada along with their human travelers.

Today, our plan became reality. Under perfect, 80 degree blue skies, the four of us trotted gleefully across the Rainbow Bridge, passed the international border marker halfway,  and breezed through immigration to Canada. There we strolled through well-manicured parks and along stone walls lining the river gorge up to Horseshoe Falls where the wind blowing from the US sprayed us with a steady mist.

Along the way, fellow tourists speaking Cantonese, French, Italian, Spanish, and English asked if they could pet Lucy, who was smiling and prancing her way through her first International visit. Two hours later we returned to our native land, a little tired, a little sun burnt, but joyful, too.

Sunday Drive

We wanted to spend some time outside with the dog, so I Googled a few hikes and found one that seemed promising about 20 minuted from Heidi's folks. The way was fair-- along country roads with open fields, farms, woods, and water. The weather was perfect, too, low 70s and all sunshine and blue skies, so we rolled the windows down and blasted the radio.

The park was an abandoned farm with wooded trails, a rushing creek, and a waterfall, and we followed winding paths up and down little hills, past old stone walls and granite ledges. Back at the car, I checked the map to see exactly where we were, and it turned out to be just 8 miles from Lake Ontario.

Well, a great lake waits for no one, and so we turned our car north toward Olcott Beach, a postcard perfect town with a lakefront park, a jazz band playing in the bandstand, and a tiny amusement park crowned with a vintage carousel. Another lovely hour later, we turned toward home, just as happy as we could be.

Beating the Heat

It took 394 miles north and two carwash-worthy rain storms for the temperature to drop from 93 to 77. Here in Buffalo, it's still pretty muggy, and as we walked the dog through the 9 PM twilight of Heidi's childhood neighborhood for her last outing of the evening, I couldn't help but notice all the wide-open windows.

The houses here were built back in the 1960s when air conditioning was a luxury not many of the working families here needed. That's still pretty much the case, despite climate change. For the few hot days and nights, people here resort to window units that are hauled out in June and put away in September, some propped up by homemade braces made of 2 x 4s, or good old-fashioned box fans leaning against the screens and turned all the way up to number three.

A quick dip in the above-ground pool in the back yard right and an orange popsicle before bedtime might help you sleep, too.

Bonanza!

We were buying a new car, so I reviewed our insurance.

Josh is moving to California tomorrow (!), so I removed him from the policy.

We traded the 18 year old Jeep (awww....) for a brand new Honda HR-V (yay!), so I made that change.

I noticed that Heidi was listed as "friend" (throwback to when Virginia didn't recognize same sex marriage, and so we weren't married), so I sent an email (on principle, since now we are married) to have that corrected.

The insurance company replied with a heartfelt Congratulations! and a request that I update Heidi's education and employment info.

Bottom line?

Our insurance went DOWN more than $800 a year!

The End of an Era

"I'm not ready," Josh told us at his farewell dinner last night. He wasn't talking about his move to California on Saturday, though, he was reacting to the news that after 15 years we were going to trade the Jeep Wrangler in for something newer and more reliable.

As over the Jeep as I am, I knew what he meant. I could still picture the 9 year-old him sound asleep in the backseat even though the top was down, swaying against the seat belt, head bouncing with the bumps in the road, and the wind whipping his fine curls into a tempest. I could still hear the radio blaring as Heidi banged out of our complex on her way to swimming lessons and lifeguarding. And in another blink, there was Annabelle and Heidi repainting the faded magnetic flowers with nail polish.

At the dealership today we were a little nervous presenting it for its trade-in. "We sure have loved it!" Heidi told the salesman.

"I'll get our trade finance guy to take a look at it," he shrugged. "I think he drives a Jeep."

And when the guy came in to talk numbers he had a big smile on his face."I want that Jeep!" he said. "I still have my '98 TJ," he continued, "and my 2011 and my 2016. Let me see what I can put together for you."

In the end? They offered us a fair deal, and we drove off the lot with a shiny new Honda HR-V, but it was definitely bittersweet.

Swimmin' in the Rain

When the overcast skies opened to deliver an afternoon downpour, we were in the pool. Once we took our stuff to cover, we jumped back in, because there was no thunder or lightning, and wet is wet.
How magical it was to be surrounded by tiny plops and drops, expanding into colliding concentric circles all around me! And the rain water was so much cooler than the pool water and the humid air around us that the sensation of all three at once was textural and refreshing. We swam and paddled and trod until storm clouds subsided to blue skies and sunshine.

I hope it rains again tomorrow!

Decorum Est

“When you get home, do you have any plans for the 4th?” A friend of my mom’s asked us this afternoon on the way to the airport. 

I thought about it a minute. Despite living a few miles from our nation’s capital, it’s rare that we are home for that most patriotic of holidays. It might seem that we had a number of exciting options.  “Well,” I told her, “considering the president is bringing in tanks, I think we’ll probably stick pretty close to home.”

Bday Recap

Every birthday is an opportunity to remember the joy in my life. Some years I am in places I love; some years I do things I love; every year I spend the day with people I love.

This year was no exception: Yesterday I woke first and spent the earliest hours of the day watching an amazing shelf cloud swirl down from the north and out to the east. I opened thoughtfully chosen gifts and enjoyed a delicious breakfast with Heidi and my mom. We went to the movies and were immersed in Yesterday, a sweet confection of a film. We enjoyed a delicious meal at a restaurant conceived of by one of the most innovative chefs in the Twin Cities, and when we were satisfied and full, we emerged into a clear evening, neither too hot nor too cool, and walked down to the historic Stone Arch Bridge spanning the Mississippi and St. Anthony's Falls.

Twenty-first Century technology allowed me to see and talk to Bill and Emily, Courtney, Jordan, Richard and Annabelle, and the day ended with a board game and a final chorus of Happy Birthday at my actual birth hour.

I know. Wow! Right?

Best. Wife. Ever

The first week after school is out is usually when I take the time to catch up in my garden. I often say that I love the garden in the summer, but not so much in the spring. That's because in the summer I go every other morning or so, pull weeds, prune and fertilize plants, and harvest the bounty of our springtime labor. But that's only if we actually get the garden in. The spring is full of must-do tasks both at school and in the garden, and it is really hard to find the time to get everything done.

That was especially true this year-- a combination of teaching so many more kids and bad weather kept me behind, and even though we got some stuff in, a busy June made it impossible to keep the garden weeded. My plans were also to leave town for a visit with my mom a couple of days after school got out. So I asked Heidi to go with me to the garden on the morning before my flight left. "Don't worry about it being such a mess," I told her. "Just water it if it doesn't rain. Try not to hate the garden while I'm gone, and I'll clean it up when I get back."

Heidi doesn't love the garden, but she loves me, and so she agreed. Even so, I was a little worried about it, especially since we are heading out of town to visit Heidi's parents a few days after we get back, and "How's the garden?" was one of the first questions I asked when I picked her up at the airport yesterday. She was vague but positive, and I thought I appreciated everything she had done.

That was until this morning when I was opening my birthday gifts. After I was showered with an awesome t-shirt, sweatshirt, 2 pairs of shorts, a camp shirt, Bombas socks and t-shirts,  and a gift certificate for a facial, Heidi told me there was one more thing. She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. "Do you know what that is?" she asked.

It was the garden, but not the way I left it last Sunday. In the week that I was gone, Heidi enlisted the help of family (thank you Treat and Emily!) and friends (Lauren, Lauren, and Traci) to completely weed it out, put down landscape fabric, and mulch over everything. They put hours and hours in to get my garden into the condition where I really can do some projects I never seem to have time for, and actually enjoy it.

I literally wiped tears of gratitude and joy as I scrolled through the pictures, and it felt as if a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I honestly didn't realize how worried I was about the garden.

But Heidi did.

PDA

I thought I'd spare Heidi the anxiety of looking for my mom's car on the crowded curbside outside of baggage claim, so I parked in the massive garage and found my way along a meandering route down and around and back up to the 14 carrousels in the arrival hall.

The  roundabout path from parking to passenger underscored how rare it has become to actually enter an airport these days unless you are  traveling.  Long gone are the times when friends and family greeted flyers at the gate, waving cheerfully at the end of the jetway, but it is also increasingly uncommon for anyone to stand outside of the security exit to welcome their wandering kin.

But today as I stood at the baggage claim scanning the moving crowd right and left, looking for the one who I was there to meet, I did witness a couple of reunions. Two little girls bounced eagerly in a collapsible wagon waving a hand-lettered Welcome Home Daddy sign. "Ya'll stay seated!" the smiling man the waited for commanded them as their mom rolled them toward him. "Safety first!"

And across the carpet two bearded young men with huge backpacks held out their arms in glee and crab-walked toward each other before engaging in an elaborate hand-slapping ritual that dissolved into a big bro hug. Chattering in Italian, they thumped each other's backs all the way to the escalator.

It was right then that I finally caught sight of Heidi, and although our reunion was just as happy as either of the other two, it's safe to say that it probably went unnoticed.

Humbling

I thought it might be fun to watch the Women's World Cup quarterfinals as I completed a workout this afternoon. What would be more motivating than jogging along on the treadmill as 22 elite athletes dominated the soccer pitch?

Uhhhhh...

Perhaps "motivating" isn't quite the right word.