We Interrupt the Italy Posts

Just a quick detour into Kansas City. I met Jay and our good friend JM there for the Scottish Highland Games. We had a blast, and I'm so glad we were able to go. Al was very, very jealous, as well he should've been because he missed out on a great time.

We got in Friday and had lunch at O'Dowd's Irish Pub, then walked around the Plaza. We didn't actually go into any of the shops, except the chocolate shop and the Better Cheddar, which is an amazing gourmet food shop. That night, we also ate at Lidia's, which is normally one of my favorite restaurants. But this night, although the salad and the dessert was great, the pasta was so salty I could barely eat it. I mentioned in to the server, but what else could they do?

Saturday was the games and we spent over 6 hours there, walking around, petting the border collies, petting the Highland Cows, watching the cute men in kilts throw heavy things, and looking at all the Celtic merchandize we could. We also ate meat pies and drank a lot of fresh squeezed lemonade. Also, my friend and her little boy came down and met us, so it was nice to see them.

After break and a shower to freshen up, we headed out for b-b-q at Smokehouse. It, too, was good, but not as good as Famous Dave's. I like a little spicier sauce.

Sunday, we were going to go to the Italian festival but it was a rainy day, so Jay and JM headed on out, and my friend and I headed to a very cool craft store called Urban Arts and Crafts. This store offers some beads for jewelry making, some yarn, some scrapbook stuff and stamps, some material, and books. It's not huge and overwhelming like Michael's, but it's not a one-hobby only store like a yarn shop or a quilt shop. And it was just so darn cool! The colors of the material, the kinds of paper, and the embellishments that they carry are different that I can find at other stores. They also have classes and rent out studio time, where you can use some of their tools to work on your projects. I would love to have a shop like this. I'm glad I made the time to go there.

So, here are some pictures of the trip. For a better wrap up and some more pictures, head on over to Jay's blog.

The Plaza


A man dressed for the occasion


Caber Toss


Sheath Toss


A carding machine for wool


Border Collie


Stalking the sheep




Leading the sheep to the ring for the demonstration


Highland Coo

St. Peter's and the Colosseum

To answer Jay's question, Al took a could of pictures of the food and here they are. He took pics of all of us at the restaurants, but he didn't think about taking pictures of the food until late into the trip. I wish we had taken more--next time we will.

Lunch at a Farmhouse during a Tuscany Tour



Pizza (garlic pizza--Al's idea) and Calzone




Thanks everyone for the kind words about the photos. I wish I could take credit for them, but it's all through Al's eyes. Yes, it is a great camera (we bought a new one before we left), but he really does have a good eye.

So, continuing our story . . .

I love breakfast and I really loved breakfast in Italy. I know that for the diet and for health I will keep eating my high fiber Kashi cereal now that I’m home, but I absolutely loved sitting at a small table eating a roll spread with jam or this looooovely chocolate spread (like Nutella but more chocolatey) and then maybe another roll, like a croissant stuffed with chocolate and sprinkled with powdered sugar, and drinking a milky, frothy cappuccino. It was always a great start to the day.

Breakfast delivered to our room in Venice. (That package on upper right is toast.)



This day, we were heading down to the Vatican and St. Peter’s by way of the metro. There was a time I would have gladly walked to all these places to really take in the city, and I miss those days. Actually, I still could, but it would take longer and I would have to take breaks, which come to think of it would have been really nice! Take a break at a café and have another roll and cappuccino. Why didn’t I think of that!?! Because I had a lot I wanted to see and I wanted as much time as possible, that’s why. Thus, taking the metro, which dropped us a block or two from where we wanted to go. Plus, there’s good people-watching on the subway.

Anyway, we made it to the Vatican (BTW, take the Ottaviano stop. The one after gets you a little closer, but you have a HUGE staircase to climb.). The line for the museum wrapped around and around the wall enclosing the museum, so we decided to save that for another afternoon and headed around to St. Peter’s Square. The street was lined with souvenir shops on the way to the basilica, and thousands of people were there to see St. Peter’s, too. So many people that at some point, someone slashed my bag. Luckily, the nice people at Eddie Bauer who made the bad put thick Styrofoam all around so they only got through the first layer of defense. I usually kept it in front of me, but sometimes it swung to the back and I’m guessing that’s when it happened. It’s kind of funny to me, though, because if they had gotten through, all they would have gotten was a book on how to speak Italian.

Slash in the Bag



St. Peter's Square



We entered St. Peter’s Cathedral and like everyone had to stop and take it all in. It’s massive and opulent. Marble and gold and statues and pillars and decorated domes, it was just awesome. The first thing we saw was Michelangelo’s Pieta, an inspired sculpture of Mary holding the crucified Christ. The statue is behind glass now because years ago a wacko attacked it with an ax. And while he did so, the other people there started grabbing pieces being chipped off instead of trying to stop the guy. So, you can only get so close, but there is a replica in another part of the cathedral.

St. Peter's Cathedral Entry



Michelangelo's Pieta



Everywhere you look in St. Peter’s there is something amazing to stare at. The statues of Popes and angels stare down at you as you try to walk while looking up. In the center is St. Peter’s tomb, with the 98-feet tall baldachin towering over it. Here are some pictures that can’t even begin to show how overwhelming it is.

Statues Over the Door



Maybe this can give you some idea of the scale of it's massiveness



Baldachin over St. Peter's Tomb



The Dome Over the Baldachin



We also participated in another tourist tradition—we bought Vatican stamps and mailed post cards from there. Apparently this is a popular thing to do as evidenced by all the people having their picture taken putting something in the post box. Who are we to fight tradition? So we bought the stamps, but didn’t do the picture thing.

We stopped for a light lunch of paninis. The guy serving us said things like “Yo Dude,” and every other American term he could think of. That brings me to one other Italian culture/tradition/thingee. Often there is a small charge for actually sitting at a table, so if you don’t want to pay that, then you can do like all other Italians and eat while standing at the counter. But remember that one of the rules about traveling is to sit when you can.

It was time for a break, so we headed back to the Nardizzi. While M took a nap, Al and I walked around the shops in the area and met up with K at a café for a Coke and a snack. Then it was on to the Colosseum.

We found out that it was a family day, so the tickets were free for many museums. We thought the line would be really long, but we went late enough in the day that the tour groups were gone. And that’s Lesson 3—Sometimes getting to an attraction in the morning is not a good idea because that’s when the tour groups go, so try to go to really popular attractions in the afternoon or reserve tickets ahead of time if you can.

The Colosseum is one of my favorite kinds of tourist attraction. Museums and cathedrals are wonderful and inspiring, but the Colosseum is real, it’s an ancient reminder of the history of humankind. You walk up the stairs out of the metro and there it is, this huge, historic creation that has survived as the city grew around it. Amazing. Here are some pictures:

The Colosseum



The Arch of Constantine outside the Colosseum



Inside the Colosseum



Inside the Colosseum



A model of how the underground of the Colosseum works--elevators raised the animals



By the time we were able to tear ourselves away from the Colosseum, it was getting pretty late and they had stopped letting people into the Forum, so we looked through the fence at it.

The Arch of Titan leading into the Forum



Then we did something stupid. In my and Al’s defense, we didn’t want to, but we gave in because K and M wanted so much to do it and for some reason they seemed to think that we all had to do everything together. We took a carriage ride. Oh yeah, it seems all romantic and cool, but a stressed out horse pulling a carriage on cobblestones is not comfortable nor enjoyable. Sure, we got to see a few things close up that we might not have gotten to see, but it wasn’t worth it. Plus, I didn’t realize it, but K hadn’t made it clear where he wanted to be dropped off, thinking that he was going to bring us to a metro stop, but K kept calling it the station, so we ended up no where near the metro and walked back to the hotel. It wasn’t too far, but it kind of put a damper on things for a while. It wasn’t the first time during this trip that I wouldn’t go with my first instinct, and it almost always came back to bite me on the butt. But here are a few pictures from that ride.

The Aracoeli Staircase leading up to Santa Maria in Aracoeli



Circus Maximus and the back of the Palace



Home of the Vestal Virgins



The Victor Emmanuel Monument, also called the Typewriter and the Wedding Cake



Later, we had another fabulous meal with another bottle of wine. Al and I split melon and prosciutto then each had a pasta dish. K ordered tiramisu for dessert and we spent some time trying to figure out why when we make tiramisu it didn’t turn out as firm as there’s did. My tiramisu turns into a spoonable dessert, unlike what we ate, which was a perfect square on the plate and could be eaten with a fork. Maybe the marscapone is thicker in Italy.

Then we went back and passed out from the exhaustion of a busy day and from eating ourselves into a food coma.

The Eternal City

Landscapes in Rome--St. Peter's




First things first, I have to confess that I didn’t buy a lot of shoes and purses. I know, I’m disappointed in myself, too. I had every intention on spending money on those things, but I didn’t count on all the beautiful pottery and glassware or how much wine we would drink or how much I would want to buy things for other people or how the gold jewelry sparkles just a little bit more brightly in Florence or how I’d fall in love with leather-bound journals of handmade paper, which I bought first.

But what I didn’t achieve in shopping goals, I achieved in just old fashioned “I can’t believe I’m here” giddiness.

And I still have a hard time believing that I was there because now that I’m back, sitting on my couch, surrounded by Kleenexes and cough drops, it just feels like a dream. A sun-filled, ancient landscaped, pasta-ridden dream.

We arrived in Rome on the 13th and took the train to the city’s main train station (Roma Termini) and walked to the hotel. That sounds like it was easy, doesn’t it? Well, it was and it wasn’t. It was because we stuck to our plan of going “light”—one backpack-style suitcase each. It wasn’t because 17 years of marriage has taught us nothing about communication and we each had our own idea of how to get to the hotel but didn’t tell the other. So, there was a little jostling of the map and grumbling while we dodged traffic and looked for street signs, which are carved onto the sides of the buildings by the way.

Piazza della Republica near the hotel


We found the Hotel Nardizzi, walked into the building, and no hotel. There was an elevator and rooms, but no reception desk. So, I thought, “Hey, maybe we should read the sign again.” Sure enough, it says, Hotel Nardizzi, 4th floor. Thus, Lesson #2 (Lesson #1 being always communicate with your travel partner) is always read the entire sign.

The elevator was one of those old-timey warehouse ones with a cage around it. And it was tiny, I mean tiny. At one point, we put 4 people in it, but I was holding my breath all the way, first to be as thin as possible against the wall so that we all had room in that rectangle and second because that’s what you do when you’re silently praying that you don’t drop to your death.



The Nardizzi was a lovely hotel with the best breakfast of all the hotels we stayed at. I now crave blood red orange juice, cappuccino and a roll for breakfast. Our room had large French doors that opened to a lovely view and just completed the whole experience.

View from hotel window


Our friends, the Cs, hadn’t arrived yet, so we went out exploring, starting with the Santa Maria degli Angeli. It was deceptively huge inside and there was a service going on despite the tourists wandering around. It had a huge pipe organ that we got to hear as part of the service. It’s amazing to be in a seemingly little church that is filled with marble and art work and has a Michelangelo pedigree. The first 2 pictures are outside the church, the other 2 are inside.









Once our friends got there, we continued walking around and looked for a place to eat lunch. This brings me to Lesson #3. Those shoes that you love and walk all over your hometown in might not be worth a damn on the cobblestones of an ancient city. Yes, the shoes that I bought in Italy were Nikes. Best purchase I made the whole trip.

We had our first pizza (a thin-crust margarita with tomato sauce, cheese, and basil) and continued our sight-seeing. We saw the Fontana del Tritone at the Piazza Barberini, then walked over to the Trinita del Monti, at the top of the Spanish Steps. Then we continued to the Piazza del Popolo (which was my favorite word for a while) where they were finishing up a celebration for the anniversary of the police.

Pizza del Popolo


By this time, I was really worn out. It was very hot and humid, and I had been up for 2 days now. All I could think about was that the more we kept walking, the further away from the hotel we were getting. So, M (who has some health issues of her own) and I headed back to the hotel while Al and K walked on.

It was a long, hot walk back. I was pretty miserable by this point and couldn’t even get excited about walking through the high-end shopping district or making a quick detour to see the Trevi Fountain. All I could think about was a cool washcloth over my face, my shoes kicked off, and lying down with the windows open so that a cool breeze could blow across my toes.

By the time Al got back, I was sleeping, and he enjoyed me in a much-needed nap.

After getting cleaned up in the marble bathroom with a bidet, which I never did use or quite get, actually, we went to dinner. We ate at Restarante Target and it was delicious. Our fist day in Italy and we were already eating really, really well. The pasta is freshly made and a perfect consistency. The sauce (mine was tomato-based) is light and doesn’t swallow up the pasta.

The Italians love their meals. They love them so much that they take a few hours, and they expect you to take the time to enjoy your meal, too. I love this. No rushing, no bringing out your second course while you’re still eating your first, no trying to hurry you out of your table so that they can get the next one in for another tip. But that also means you sit for a long time waiting for your server to come by and take your order or bring you water or bring you your bill.

The meals are many courses. There’s the Antipasti, where I ordered the cheeses, pears and honey and our friends ordered the prosciutto and melon. Then comes the Primi, or first course, or pasta course. All kinds of different pastas and sauces, and enough to be a meal on it’s own. The servings are smaller compared to American servings, but they are still filling. Then comes the Secundo, or second course or the entrée. Side dishes are also offered, which come with the second course, so if you want a salad or veggies, you order them separately and get them after your pasta. Then, if you can actually still breathe, you can order cheese or dessert, each a course of its own. For most of our meals, Al and I ordered an antipasto to share and a pasta dish. We just couldn’t do 3 or more courses. However, unlike American restaurants, the Italians don’t care if you share your meal, so it’s also a good option to order an antipasto, share a pasta, then each order an entrée. Or even share the entrée—they don’t care or charge you extra.

And don’t forget the wine! You won’t go wrong with the house wine; it’s always wonderful.

And this was just the first day. It set a pattern for the trip: breakfast, sightseeing in the morning, lunch, sightseeing in afternoon, short break and/or nap, and a dinner that lasts all night. It was heaven.

Sorry

I'm sorry I haven't been around with more tales and photos. I'm working on it, it's just very slow going. I'm having a rough time getting over an allergy attack or maybe it was a cold, I don't know. I just know that it has knocked me on my butt and even though I'm finally feeling better, everything I do exhausts me.

Al's answer is that I should go to the gym, that will help. Well, it probably would, if I could complete any exertion without coughing up a lung and then sleeping for an hour.

I also have been lax in my reading. Sorry about that, too. It's pretty frustrating when even reading wears you out.

I think part of it is also that "post-trip depression" that I always seem to get. You know how it is, 10 days of nothing but fun and excitement, then back to grocery shopping and bill paying. Although, with how busy this year has been, I'm ready for a little more normal and routine.

Plus, Al is going out of town again for about a week and half, so we've been busy getting things ready for his trip. I'm always a little sad when he leaves, but honestly, I'm also a little relieved to have the house to myself for a few days. Going on vacation is wonderful but I don't get any time to myself, so I'll make up for that this coming week by watching chick movies and reading and eating popcorn for dinner. And, the Scottish Highland Games are next weekend in Kansas City. Even though Al isn't here, I'm thinking about going anyway. I just can't resist sheep dog demonstrations.

So, that's what's going on here. Hopefully I'll have more interesting stuff later.

Buon Giorgno!

Yes, we're finally home! We got home late Wednesday, despite train strikes, air traffic control strikes, and airline strikes. We had a wonderful time, but I'm exhausted. I'll write more after I get some rest and do something about these bags under my eyes.

Here are some pictures to keep ya busy until I get back (Al took all the photos). Ciao!

Colosseum

St. Peter's at Vatican in Rome

Hall in the Vatican Museum

Trevi Fountain

Bridge of Sighs, Venice

Morano Glass

Duomo, Florence

Florence

View out the Florence hotel window

Light Lunch

San Gimignano

Pottery

Pisa Tower and Cathedral

Ciao

(map from enchantedlearning.com)


'Tis Herself will be closed while she travels the beautiful cities of Rome, Venice and Florence.

Split

I've spent the last few days vacillating between being excited and having anxiety attacks.

We're leaving for Italy on Saturday. We've only been planning this trip for over a year, so you'd think I'd be totally prepped and anxious to go. Oh, I'm anxious alright. Unfortunately, it's not a good kind of anxious.

I know we'll have a good time. I know I'll love Italy and wonder what took me so long to go there. But I'm still going to a country that I know very little about and speak very little of the language. I've been practicing "No copisco l'italiano" (I don't understand Italian). We'll mostly be in the large cities, so most people will probably speak English, but I want to know somethings to say to be polite. Buon giorno, gratzie, prego, due cauppacino per favore. Now if I can just figure out how to say, "Do you take Visa?" in the shoe store.

The main reason I'm on edge is that it seems the more I read and try to figure out what to do and where to go and how to get there, I just get more confused. My brain doesn't seem to be able to differentiate the names of places and everything seems to be a variation of Piazza. Plus, there are 3 other people going on this trip, but I seem to be the only one who knows how to read a travel guide. Granted, I'm the most anal of all of us, but you'd think they'd want to know something about where we're going. I can see it now: we'll meet downstairs at the hotel and all 3 of them will say, "What are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go? How do we get there?" Actually, it may not be that bad since I went through the guidebooks and emailed everyone about what days the museums are closed and suggested when we should do what. At least there will be 4 of us to figure out the public transportation and that's good because I'm really stressed about figuring out the public transportation.

I've already had a friend talk me down and tell me to get a grip. She lived there for 6 months, so she was a big help in making me feel more excited than anxious.

So, I'm just gonna roll with it. I figure that since I haven't seen anything in Italy, that anything I see will be amazing. I'm not taking a list of things that I have to see and do. And you know how hard it is for me to not have a list, but this will be very good for me.

So, arrivederci amici. I'm off to sort through all my little toiletry bottles and to practice pack. I have to make sure I leave room for the shoes and purses that will be coming home with me.

That's Entertainment

I’ve watched many of those real estate shows, and I’ve noticed an annoying similarity, besides the women saying, “’kay,” when asked if she wants to see the next room. They all “like to entertain.” That is the popular catch phrase. Oh, a walk-in closet is good and a two-sink vanity in the master bath is a real plus, but the kitchen has to be big enough because “we like to entertain.” It’s the latest status-seeking necessity for wanna-be sophisticates.

I don’t think handing out paper towels and paper plates with the Domino’s pizza that was just delivered is the latest definition of “entertaining.” I’m not sure why not though. What could be more fun than sitting on the floor with your best buddies, eating pizza, drinking a beer, and watching a movie? But I don’t think that’s what the couples are talking about on these shows.

They want Martha Stewart-style entertaining. Not that Martha doesn’t have her good points, but she has made a career out of stressing the importance of perfectly pressed napkins and how only stock made from chicken bones should be used in your homemade soup. Fresh flower centerpieces, colorfully matched with the napkins with 5-piece place settings and the proper glasses for tea, water, and red or white wine all became the standard. Oh, and don’t forget the cute name place signs for the ultimate in hostess control.

I admit, that I’m guilty of this attitude, too. Or at least, I used to be. There was a time not so long ago that I would spend weeks planning a party, creating lists and timelines and gathering the perfect serving pieces. Those were huge grocery bills in those days because of course I had to make everything fresh and from scratch—no frozen pizza rolls for my parties. I even breaded and fried my own cheese sticks instead of lowering myself to the ease of frozen.

But sweets, that was where I really went all out: a dense chocolate cake covered in genache, home-made pies (using Martha Stewart’s pie dough recipe, of course), and cookies galore. I would spend at least 3 days mixing, baking, roasting and frying food for a party that would last 3 hours. However, as they say, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t get something out of it. And I did get lots of satisfaction from the compliments and the pride of presentation.

I wasn’t the only one. All of us spouses were around the same age and just coming into our “entertaining years.” We would take turns having parties and trying out new recipes and trying to outdo each other. Martha Stewart was our guru and Food Network our TV Bible.

After awhile, the competition aspect worked it’s way into the planning, and that’s when it stopped being fun. Constantly trying to top the last culinary creation became tiring and ultimately that satisfaction began to wane. I began to get irritated at “having” to make things or have a party. So, like someone having to quit being an addict, I quit cold turkey. No more parties, no more baking cookies for my hubby to take in to work, no Christmas goodies being sent in the mail, and no more buying exotic ingredients that I didn’t know what to do with anyway. Thus, the ending of my “entertaining.”

Until recently, that is. With this new assignment and new job, all of a sudden my anti-social, withdrawn husband has become the host-with-the-most. While I’m thinking of selling a lot of my serving pieces at a garage sale, Al is planning parties. Well, actually, he’s not planning, he’s telling me we should have a party, then I do the planning. But he has opinions about how he wants them to happen now. He has food requests and he’s the one making lists. The lists usually consist of alcohol, but hey, it’s a needed list.

There’s one big difference in our parties now, though. Behold the wonders of the oven! Frozen cheese sticks, frozen quiches, frozen stuffed phyllo thingies, all from oven to table with no fuss and little mess. I even committed the ultimate in making my life easier, instead of cooking burgers and brats on the grill, I went to Famous Dave’s and bought BBQ. They make such good BBQ, why struggle through trying to do it myself when all I have to do is buy a couple of pounds of beef and chicken and put them in crockpots. I even had time to make a couple of my usual goodies—spinach balls and some desserts, plus I had time to get cleaned up and sit around having a beer before everyone started arriving.

And here’s the kicker—I still got compliments on how wonderful everything was. I even gave props to the makers of frozen cheese sticks and Famous Dave, but I got credit for it being such a great idea. And the simplest dessert I make garnered the most praise of anything I’ve done—it was just a trifle dish with layers of angel food cake, smashed strawberries, and Cool Whip. Ah, the easy life.

I wonder, would Martha be proud? Would the fact that I put the already prepared food in pretty Longerberger baskets get me extra presentation points to compensate for my lack of from-scratch cooking? Would the happy kids getting fudge bars from the freezer make up for the Cracker Barrel cheese instead of Brie? Would the laughter and free-flowing single malt compensate for the mix-matched paper plates and plastic utensils? I’d say so.

And despite the fact that I bought this house for resale value, it did turn out to be perfect for entertaining.

Goodnight Sweetheart

I’m so cranky the morning after a sleepless night. I’m kind of cranky in the morning anyway, but even more so when I stay up all night with stream of consciousness never letting up. One night Al told me that I was thinking too loud and it was keeping him awake. Poor dear. Not this night though, he was so tired a train going through the room wouldn't have woken him.

Well, I do have a lot going through my mind. My thoughts kind of went like this:

I’ll be glad when this inspection is over so that Al will relax some and then he can take over some of the worrying I’m doing about the trip to Italy in Oh my God less than 2 weeks. I wish I could figure out what to wear for that trip. The weather is going to be pretty nice, I think, but still warm enough for short-sleeved shirts. I know I have to cover my shoulders in some cathedrals and museums and I think that goes for knees, too. So does that mean I can’t wear the short skirt? Probably. Maybe I should just take a long skirt. Should I wear a skirt at the party Saturday night? The last party we threw, one of the women said she didn’t know she should dress up because I looked dressed up. But I wasn’t. Oh well. Maybe I’d be more comfortable in capris anyway. But that sundress fits better now, but then I really would be over dressed. But Al wants this to be a cookout, which means I’ll be outside most of the time with the food. Usually Al would do that but scotch trumps burgers, so he’ll want to be downstairs educating people on the wonders of the single malt. Except for the kids. The kids. Last time we had a party for Al’s office we had over 40 people come. And that was without kids. It’s not that I mind kids coming, it’s just that they get bored so quickly. Since we don’t have kids, there’s nothing for them to do besides watch movies. How many movies can they watch before they’re bored out of their skulls? Will they even get through one? The last time we had kids around they had more fun throwing things down the laundry chute, then screeching and running down the stairs to the laundry room. Oh shit, if they’re going to be up there again, I really should make sure the sex toys are hidden. That would be embarrassing. Probably shock some people, too. Might even change Al’s call sign, even though he really likes “Single Malt.” I guess the kids could hang out in my craftroom. I could get out stamps and markers and paper and scrapbook stuff. I should probably remove those books on witchcraft. No one would actually ask about them and then wonder about my dark side instead of reading the story I’ve been writing about a family of witches. Not that I’ve done any work on it in a long time. *Sigh*

And on and on and on. Usually at times like that I just get up and watch tv or read. But then there are nights like last night that I just toss and turn and listen to the shades twack against the window frame because the fan is aimed at it. Al slept through it, though. I envy that type of sleep. I usually hit that type around 4 to 6 in the morning.

But I have a new theory. It was the full moon. I’m serious! I’m going to start tracking these nights that I can’t sleep, and I bet they correspond with the phases of the moon. Maybe I could blame my mood swings on it, too.

Well, whatever the reason, I’m tired today and have a very long list of things to do, so I should probably get busy. Although, this couch is awfully comfortable. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a couple of minutessssssssszzzzzzzzzzzz.

Bits and Pieces

We have a wonderful thing here in Omaha called the Intergenerational Orchestra of Omaha. It was started in 1985 by the Office on Aging and brings together musicians of different generations. You can be in the orchestra if you are 50 and older or are 25 and younger. Both learning from each other and playing music—what’s better than that? Their conductor is Chuck Penington, who in addition to all the stars and orchestras he’s worked with, is best known around here as the keyboard artist for “Music of Manheim” and conductor for the Manheim Steamroller Christmas tour.

My friend’s 13-year-old daughter plays violin with this group, and we went to see them a couple of weeks ago. It was called “Pops and Pie,” and was their last concert of the season. They were wonderful, and I got a slice of home-made peach pie. They played Henry Mancini music, so everyone was bobbing their heads to the Peter Gun theme and the Baby Elephant Walk.

It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m really a little jealous. What a great opportunity for the kids and what fun for the older people. I’m too young and too old at the same time! Of course, I also don’t play an instrument but that’s beside the point. I can still listen.

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We went to a log home show this weekend. We’re not interested in a log home, but we would like to build a timber frame some day. A timber frame still has the warmth of the wood from the frame of the house, which can be exposed as much as you’d like, but it’s not as clunky or chunky or rustic as some log homes can be. Timberpeg was one of the companies there who do a type of “turn key” house, but there were many local companies who were custom builders. One in Missouri still uses the antique hand tools he’s been using for years.

Here’s a picture of a Timberpeg home. Of course, this is pretty elaborate, but you get the idea of the exposed frame.



One of the things we like about this design is that it’s really easy to have an open floor plan. Space! I need my space! Plus, we’re ready for a smaller footprint, which means I want a smaller house so I can get rid of a lot of stuff and can keep it clean easier. Also, when we finally build or buy “the” house that will be our last or at least close to our last house, I want one level.

We need to set a goal for those investments and stuff, and this seems like a pretty darn good one.

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We watched Casino Royale this week. I knew Daniel Craig was going to be wonderful, at least IMHO. I know people are very territorial about their Bonds, but I’m not a Bond-fanatic, so I can like him all I want.

And after the scene where the bad guy was trying to get information out of a naked Bond sitting in the chair, Al said, “Well, that’s an interesting torture technique.” I think he was a little pale.

But we both liked it.

Well, that’s enough for today.

Open Letter to Christopher Nolan

Dear Mr. Nolan,

I love your movies. I don’t hesitate seeing them because I know I’ll be in for an intense and wonderful experience. I’m not an expert at film-making and am not really interested in how everything is done—that just takes away from the magic. So, this letter isn’t a dissertation of your skill as a writer, director, film-maker, skillful as you are. No, just an old fashioned, “Gosh Mr. Nolan, I really liked your movie” letter.

What brought all this on is that I finally saw The Prestige. I love being challenged and surprised in a movie. I sat enthralled as I watched Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale reading each other’s journals, intermingling real time with flashbacks. I admit to a little confusion at times, but I caught on. I have a problem with always trying to figure out where a movie is going instead of just enjoying where it’s taking me. Once I gave up that control, I enjoyed myself a lot more.

I think the fact that your movies challenge me is what I like best about them. They don’t take the easy way out by telling a straight-forward story. They have layers and elaborate twists of logic and are thought-provoking. The movie may end, but that doesn’t mean my thinking ends. I need time to recover before I can move onto something else. It’s the same when I read a good book; I can’t just pick up another one immediately. I have to contemplate it for a while, and if someone is around, I’ll talk about it. I really should watch your films with someone so that I can have a conversation afterwards.

Memento was mind-bending and brilliant, Insomnia was disturbing, and Batman Begins was fantastic. I can’t wait for The Dark Knight and I still need to see Following; I know I won’t be disappointed.

So, thank you. I’ve enjoyed your movies and look forward to what’s to come.

A Day Like Any Other Day?

Quick Update: Thank you all of you for your happy birthday wishes. New post coming this weekend sometime.


My close friend sent me the perfect birthday card; it expresses exactly how I feel about this birthday.

The outside of the card is a large cat with one of those stares. You know the one—“I’m looking at you but I’m not acknowledging your existence.” It says “It’s your birthday?” And the inside says

Whoop-de-freakin’-doo.

I didn’t always feel this way, just the opposite, actually. I was one of those annoying people who treated birthdays as such a special day that it had to be celebrated. Some people don’t like to acknowledge their birthdays, which I thought was just silly. Why wouldn’t you want a day where it’s all about you? And why wouldn’t others want to celebrate such a special day as my birthday with me?

I was the one beaming while the restaurant employees sang Happy Birthday to me. No feigning embarrassment for me—I wanted to be the center of attention.

So, I’ve always kind of insisted on birthdays being celebrated. Not just my birthday! I wanted everyone to celebrate their birthdays extravagantly. Of course, that way I could justify celebrating my own that way, too.

But I’ve decided to give everyone a break and stop my attention-seeking ways. Last year was a wonderful birthday; Al did a fantastic job making it feel like a special day for me. It’s holding over, and I don’t feel the need to be the center of attention any more. Besides, with our trips this year, my birthday kind of pales in comparison.

And it absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that with this birthday I’m officially in my f-f-f-f-f-forties. Not at all. I have no problem with being in my f-f-f-f-f-forties. OK, I have a little problem with it, but really, what’s so bad about being in your f-f-f, oh hell, never mind.

I think this year I’ll treat it as just another day. Except for the fact that I’m posting about it here for everyone with access to the Internet to possibly see it, thereby practically forcing “happy birthday” comments. Plus, Mom has no doubt written a sweet and slightly embarrassing post about me growing up. Jay has probably mentioned it, too, because that’s just the kind of guy he is. So, I guess there will be a wee bit of celebrating.

Al will take me out to dinner where ever I want to go, so I’m trying to find a place that has the best dessert. Funny how I used to try to find the most exciting and popular place to go, and now I just want a really good slice of cheesecake. My how things change as you get older. Although I did read that women in their forties have some kind of sexual surge, so at least I have that to look forward to.

So, maybe a little celebrating wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe I can find a place with a good dessert and someone to sing happy birthday.

Aww Shucks

I’m so ashamed.

I haven’t been keeping up with my blog reading lately. I go through spurts where I just check in on my brother and my mom, then in whatever time I have, I read other blogs. I get caught up eventually, but I’m usually a couple of posts behind on some of my usual stops.

And that’s how I missed something very kind and flattering. JD at Global Wandering handed out his favorite “thinking” blogs and I was one of them! I’ve come to expect thought-provoking posts on JD’s site, so I was very flattered that he would mention me. If you haven’t been over to JD’s blog, check it out. In addition to commentary on current events, social issues, and travel, you’ll see pictures of the cutest Shih-tzu puppy the family recently got. I’ve learned a lot reading his blog.

And while I’m on a roll, go over and check out Lisa at A Clear View to a New Life. She’s introspective and a fantastic photographer. She comments on everything from her travels to politics to her beloved Chicago Cubs. She even makes baseball interesting to me.

Please don’t think I’ve forgotten the rest of you! I’m not very good at this emotional talk. I’m more in the “you know how I feel about you, right? I don’t have to say, right?” category. I may not keep up, but I always catch up. I’m usually lurking out there somewhere.

So, you know that, right?