Ireland: September 2019- Part 1

Photo Temple Bar
Temple Bar

Make no mistake; it rains a lot here and now we understand why the locals tell us “…This is  why we drink so much!..‘’ There’s only one way to get rid of that damp, bone chilling feeling and it’s spelled P-U-B. Lucky for us all, that is also where many of the wonderful songs and stories that Ireland is famous for, originated. So, thank you, Guinness and Jameson for brewing and distilling us into a constant state of bliss. Rain, schmain; by the end of this trip, I’ll have a spring in my step, regardless of the weather, and will have to stop myself from saying “…Top of the morning!..” to everyone I pass on the street.

Day 1: Dublin
If Dublin were a shoe, it would be a toe tapping work boot tied with smiley face shoe laces. There’s nothing pretentious about this place; it’s not one of those stunning cities, but there’s a down-to-earth feeling that almost immediately makes you feel welcome. Dublin’s harsh history (think potato famine) prepared its people to be tough, proud and to find the joy in life and celebrate when you can.

We settle into the Maldron Hotel and we’re a bit underwhelmed; coming from Tigerlily in Edinburgh, which rocked our world, it’s a bit plain, but the great location and the young, eager- to-please staff seem to make up for it.

A lively discussion on where to have cocktails immediately follows, but the downpour outside results in a unanimous decision to stay put at the Maldron bar. It seems like a good night for a stick to the ribs dinner, so we head to The Chophouse and dine on sizzling steaks sourced from a local farm and served on wooden boards. If I lived here, I would be a lifetime member of the Beef Club, their foodie group.

Day 2: Dublin
The docent at St. Patrick’s Cathedral delights us with her anecdotes as we tour the imposing Gothic building founded in 1191. The largest church in Ireland, it is also the National Cathedral of the Church of Ireland. This year the church celebrates famous Irish author and one-time Dean of the Cathedral, Jonathan Swift’s 350th birthday.

The drizzle doesn’t dampen our spirits as we walk around the lively Temple Bar area. Even though it’s a tourist area of bars, restaurants and shops and known for being higher priced, it’s still a must see. We follow Big A* across the River Liffey Bridge to Oxmantown, get the last four stools in this small sandwich shop and chow down. This gives the guys a good base for their Jameson Distillery Tour, while JC* and I people watch over a pot of Irish tea at a nearby cafe. We can’t help but stop in to The Brazen Head, the oldest pub in Ireland dating back to 1198 and then stroll the grounds of Trinity College, the top ranked university in Ireland.

Is it five o’ clock already? It’s time for cocktails at The Bank on College Green, renovated back to its Victorian splendor. Having stopped in at each of the contenders earlier in the day, we choose Terra Madre for dinner. Heading down the stairs to a basement, the tiny restaurant that only seats 18 in mis-matched chairs, makes you feel as if you stopped in at an Italian home. With no time for small talk, the owner glides through the tables, stopping only to discuss the menu. We get lost in the descriptions (pasta made in the traditional way as the old ladies did, who lived in the village of Campofilone that overlooks the Adriatic coast), share so we get to taste more of everything and almost fall off our chairs; it’s that good.

Day 3: Waterford
We say goodbye to Big A*, who’s traveling to London to visit friends before going home. Mr. Wiz*, JC and I are heading out on a six day bus tour of Southern Ireland. Even though we have always preferred to plan our own itineraries, having to drive on the “wrong side” of the road convinced us that there’s a first time for everything.

After much research, we settle on Paddywagon Tours. With high ratings, moderate pricing and small groups, we like the fact that they attract a younger demographic. We’re on our own for dinner each night (breakfast is included), leaving us some freedom of choice. While accommodations are simple, staying at bed-and-breakfast inns gives us the chance to get acquainted with the locals.

The jolly group from all over the world starts to assemble and introductions are made; three groups of women celebrating their 40th birthdays, a young man in his late 20s who just moved to Ireland, two recent college graduates with their parents, couples in their 50s and small world; two women from Austin, Texas.

Everyone (especially the birthday girls) likes our driver, Barry, immediately. He is a tall, good looking guy in his late 30s and has a nice way about him, speaking just enough to enlighten us about his country, but also knowing when some quiet time is needed. As we drive out of Dublin, he mentions that the locals call the Obelisk near the River Liffey the “Stiffy on the Liffey.” Having warmed up the crowd, he asks if we know the difference between Scotts and the Irish; Scotts are Irish people that can’t swim and then mentions that he’s half Scottish and half Irish; he likes to drink, but doesn’t like to pay for it.

Photo Glendolough
So much to explore at Glendalough

We drive through the rolling countryside to the Wicklow Mountains and hike around the monastery ruins at Glendalough, Valley of the Two Lakes. It takes us a moment to realize that those are real reindeer just a few feet away and not animatronics. With only 34 of us on the bus, we are able to make quick on/off stops along the way and the first one is Hollywood (population 50). We learn that the iconic Hollywood sign actually originated here, when two brothers bought land in California and named it after their hometown. The medieval city of Kilkenny captivates us with its cobblestone streets and buildings that date back to the 12thcentury. We hang on every word, as our docent regales us with tales of the Butler family, proprietors of Kilkenny Castle.

Finally arriving in Waterford, Ireland’s oldest city, we dine at La Boheme. The husband and wife owners lovingly restored the arched ceilings, pewter bar and original flooring into a French restaurant full of old-world charm. We’re not sure if we preferred the duck breast with ginger and honey sauce or the rack of lamb, but we can agree that Day One on the bus with Barry and our new friends went quite well.

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Author’s Note:
I would greatly appreciate your input; if you enjoyed this post, please scroll down and like it!

 

Edinburgh, Scotland: September 2019

Photo Ediburgh

Edinburgh Castle looms over the city

It’s love at first sight! If Edinburgh were a shoe, it would be a Manolo Blahnik jeweled pump. This beautiful city, built on seven hills, looks like a movie set, with its cobblestone streets and its charming stone buildings, each vying for attention with flowering plants cascading from their window boxes.

There’s a certain feeling of comfort that English is the spoken language here, even though that Scottish brogue sometimes makes you need to pay a wee bit more attention. We’re told that it’s a short walk from the train station to the hotel and we take in all the sights and sounds, remembering to look right, left, up and down as we cross each street. It’s still unsettling to us that cars are driving on the opposite side of the road; each taxi encounter is more like a rollercoaster ride.

Stepping into our hotel, Tigerlily, takes our breath away. I’m here for only two minutes and I already know that we will add it to our list of all-time favorites. The small lobby gives way to two bar/sitting areas that have “Alice in Wonderland” written all over them.

Photo Edinburgh Tigerlilly 2

Photo Edinburgh Tigerlilly 1

The stylishly, large guest rooms, attention to detail (glitter balls hanging in the stairwells?!) and all-around trendiness is intoxicating; now I understand what the true definition of bling really is.

Day One
We hear bagpipes playing in the distance, so how can we not have a cocktail at a place called Angels with Bagpipes? We sit outside the 17th century building located on the Royal Mile, a main thorofare, and people watch (note: kilts on men are very sexy). Big A* and I compare research and settle on dinner at L’ Escargot Blanc. A winner of many awards, but unpretentious, it advertises itself as “the best of Scotland with a French twist.” Known for its casserole entrees, brightly colored casserole dishes of all shapes and sizes playfully adorn shelves as pieces of art. I am so impressed with the crockery canister of cornichons and wood tongs served with my terrine appetizer that I eat way too many, but save room for the luscious lamb entree. There’s no way we can bypass our jazzy hotel bars and not stop in one for a nightcap; a scenario that will play out each night of our stay.

Day Two
We’re not surprised that the Tigerlily breakfast is so exceptional. As I sip the best tea that I’ve ever tasted, I take note of how I can make sure to try as many of the offerings as possible. Fortified, we head to Edinburgh Castle for our tour (tickets purchased ahead online). A historic military fortress, royal residence and prison, it looms over the city. Our tour guide passes out his business card and introduces himself as “Australian David” (the better to identify him on TripAdvisor with). Dressed in a kilt, his acting background comes in handy as he regales us with countless tales of intrigue, warfare and romance.

We enjoy a quick lunch at Oink. A small space with a few seats, we line up to choose our size of pulled pork sandwich, type of bread, stuffing and sauce. Our next stop is Leith, a historic port town, and I will not let the rain dampen my excitement to visit the Royal Yacht Britannia. It is said that the day it was decommissioned, Queen Elizabeth II (not known for her emotions) actually shed a tear. As it turns out, it’s not all that difficult to be a Royal; all you need is a yacht and the handshake, which I practice on every level of the ship.

Our rain hoods affect our peripheral vision, but not enough that we don’t see into the bar at The Kitchin and decide that cocktails are in order. Contemporary and sleek, we dry off to the sound of Ella Fitzgerald. Then, it’s back to Edinburgh and on to Michael Neave Kitchen for dinner. The décor is a contemporary mix of metal and wood and, Neave, one of Scotland’s top young chefs, introduces us to cod with chorizo risotto and venison and lamb, both with a slightly gamey flavor, alluding to the fact that it’s been sourced from local farms.

Day Three
The rain is relentless, so JC* and I decide to explore the art at the National Gallery of Scotland (free!), rather than accompany Mr. Wiz* and Big A* on their day trip to St. Andrews, known as “the home of golf.” Bypassing the bar where Prince William and Duchess Kate met (they both attended St. Andrew’s University), they head straight for St. Andrew’s Links. They find out that it is a public golf course and on non event days, anyone can stroll around it. As luck would have it, they spend the afternoon watching Rory Mcllroy and his dad play golf together. They are told that tomorrow will start a championship open, so entry will be restricted and ticket prices will be high.

JC, Google Maps and I make it to our meeting place, The Royal Oak. As we’re all sharing our day’s adventures, we notice three people from very different walks of life enter, pull out their instruments and just start playing. The bar is so small that our knees are almost touching the band members’ knees, so we try to not make any sudden movements and realize we can’t leave until their set is finished. We then head down a narrow alley way and multiple stone steps to The Devil’s Advocate for dinner. It’s housed in an old Victorian pump house and is lit by candlelight. We’re very adventurous and find that even animal innards (haggis and black pudding) and lamb neck filets pair well with pinot noir.

I’m sorry to say goodbye to Edinburgh and my dream of living at Tigerlilly, but there’s still one more nightcap and one more breakfast to look forward to before heading on to Dublin.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Author’s Note:
I would greatly appreciate your input; if you enjoyed this post, please scroll down and like it!

 

Glasgow, Scotland: September 2019

Photo Glasgow 1

Glasgow University

Glasgow is Gaelic for dear, green place. I open the plane shade as we are about to land and gasp. The craggy mountains are a splendid backdrop for the verdant patches that sparkle. JC* and I take one look at each other, smile, break into song with a quiet rendition of “Loch Lomond,” that old Scottish ballad, and receive a thumbs-up from Mr. Wiz*, while the family across the aisle claps softly:

“…You take the high road
And I’ll take the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland before you
For me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond…”

We head to our hotel, excited to meet up with Big A*. The Fodors review was so complimentary that before booking the Carlton George, I checked to make sure that the reviewer’s last name wasn’t Carlton or George. All in all, it was a nice hotel in a great location, nothing exceptional. Due to the recent liquor issues in hotels, the complimentary decanters of gin, sherry and whiskey in our rooms go unopened, but the rooftop bar is a nice touch.

If Glasgow were a shoe, it would be a practical oxford in a daring color. What the city lacks in beauty, it makes up for with its edgy vibe. And then, there’s that sense of humor: someone has placed traffic cones on the heads of the elegant statues all around the city, a sign reads “…There are two seasons in Scotland: June and Winter…” and a Kentucky Fried Chicken ad asks “…What the cluck?..” I’m still giggling when we walk through a tunnel and painted on the wall it says “… Are ye dancing?..” and we pass Sweaty Betty, a women’s fitness apparel shop.

We explore Argyll Street, City Center, the West End and Glasgow Cathedral. Glasgow University enchants us; it’s very Hogwarts-like and we search for Harry Potter around every corner. We arrive just in time for an organ recital at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum and then learn about some of Scotland’s famous artists in a special exhibit.

We’re treated to a lovely view of the city at Citation, as we enjoy cocktails on its outdoor balcony. Even though we’re lucky to get the last table in the cobblestone courtyard at Sloan’s, a bar dating back to 1799, I make sure to check out its acid etched windows and mahogany staircase inside. We were so glad the hotel staff told us to check out the bar next door. We’d never seen anything like Waxy O’ Connors Pub. The waiter tells us that its design was the creation of the owner. We can’t imagine how he thought to combine six bars, multiple landings and nook and crannies over three floors in a gothic style that resembles a church and how the wait staff finds their way back to their customers.

Each morning at breakfast, we settle on our lunch choices. Catch wins us over with its luscious fish and chips and its navy and white nautical décor. Paesano impresses us by elevating pizza into an art form, its menu detailing how each imported ingredient was chosen and enlightening us about its wood fire oven, perfected over four generations.

Our culinary priorities set, by lunch time, we secure our dinner reservations, not wanting to miss out on any of the choices we’ve spent time researching. After dining at the Mussel Inn, we agree that, though delicious, we may have reached our mussel quota for the balance of the trip. Rogano’s elegant art deco décor sets the stage for their smoked fish chowder and lemon sole drenched in a brown butter sauce that I could have bathed in. The waiter tells us that we’re in good company (Henry Kissinger, Bob Dylan and Rod Stewart have also dined at table 16) and he will be sure to add the Thornton family to the list.

Now it’s on to Edinburgh! We head to the train, secure in the knowledge that we’ve successfully made the best of our short stay.

Photo Glasgow 2

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Author’s Note:
I would greatly appreciate your input; if you enjoyed this post, please scroll down and like it!

 

The Tale of the Sales Pitch

Photo Tale of a Sales Pitch


House rule: we always open every piece of mail. Remembering Mr. Wiz’s* astonishment, a while back, in receiving a $300 rebate from his old insurance company, I recently ripped open both sides of an envelope that urged me to open it immediately.

We’ve all seen these invitations before; listen to a presentation in exchange for a gift of some sort. This one caught my eye, only because of the gift: two- round trip tickets to anywhere in the continental United States, a two-night stay at a top hotel and a $50 restaurant gift card.

Curious, I called the 800 number and was told that this travel agency promoted themselves via one-on-one presentations, rather than utilizing other forms of advertising.

With a background in sales, I was intrigued to see how these experts might elevate their craft to an art form. The two airline tickets and the fact that the presentation was in a classy downtown hotel made me decide to reserve a space.

We arrived early and greeted the woman sitting outside the conference room. Wondering how she could possibly be so irritated at such an early hour, she looked up, handed us a clip board and told us to fill out the information without acknowledging us at all. I named her Ms. Morose (aka Ms. M).

The doors opened and we were ushered in, along with two elderly couples. The body language of the two gentlemen accompanying their wives conveyed immediately that they were coerced into attending. Personally, I would have removed the two tables that sat in the back empty.

Before we had a chance to chat with our neighbors, the master of ceremonies leaped into the room and introduced himself. Because of his Hawaiian shirt, perpetual smile and game show host voice, I gave him the title Mr. Carnival Barker (aka Mr. CB). In between photos of exotic destinations, we were told that joining this members-only travel agency (brokers that cut out the middlemen) would discount our travel by at least 50%.

We were then introduced to our personal consultant (Ms. M and Mr. CB turned out to be the other consultants). A large black man with a sweet face, he shook our hands and joked that, by his accent, we could probably guess that he was from Alabama. He later mentioned that he was actually was from Senegal. Having to repeat his introduction three times before we understood him, we settled in at the edge of our seats and politely tried to focus intently on every word that Mr. Senegal, my name for him (aka Mr. S) had to say.

It seemed that Mr. S. was also the closer. With a broad smile, he assured us that the $3995 we would spend, along with the $199 per year was a small price to pay for the deep discounts offered us.

By the time we looked up, the two grouchy husbands and their spouses were nowhere to be seen. It was time for Mr. S. to throw in the discounts and specials that he had been hiding in his back pocket. Though he mentioned more than once that the offer expired once we exited the room, we were unsure why he wrote his name and cell number down for us.

We declined the offer and said our goodbyes, still wondering, if this was their one shot at a sale, why the staff was not as professional as expected and not dressed for success. Exiting the room and walking down the hall, I heard Ms. M. call me back to her desk. As I returned, she said in her monotone voice “…I’ll need that pad back…” Mini paper hoarder that I am, I had put the white lined 8 x 11 inch pad under my arm.

All in all, I learned a lot that day: first impressions are important, never make a big decision before sleeping on it, if it seems too good to be true it probably is and the secret to success for multimillion dollar companies is keeping an eye on those 25 cent pads.

Postscript: The coupon for the airline tickets, hotel stay and dining did arrive along with a request for credit card information to cover taxes and fees totaling $450. I figure I still came out ahead; I made scrap paper out of the coupon, still have the Sheraton Hotel pen and got the idea for this post.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

Welcome to Randyland!

Photo Randyland 1

The real Randy or a cardboard cutout? I’m still not sure.

Randy Gilson prides himself on celebrating the insignificant. Little did he know that when he purchased a dilapidated house in Pittsburgh for $10,000 at an auction back in 1995, it would become known as one of America’s most colorful public landmarks and among the most photographed places on Instagram.

Growing up in a broken home, poor and sometimes homeless, he ignored the taunting of others and focused on working to create something out of nothing, both with his life and with his surroundings. Randy says that his struggles became his strengths; “…I taught myself to repurpose, reuse and recycle…” As a young boy, he would rummage through the trash and recondition toys he found, to the delight of his five siblings at Christmas.

He’d love to sneak over to the yards of his elderly neighbors and mow their overgrown lawns. Distressed by the garbage and abandoned homes in his neighborhood, he later started the Old Allegheny Garden Society. He purchased whiskey barrels, filled them with flowers and placed them along the streets. Neighbors started volunteering to assist him and his dream of creating a peoplehood (his term for connecting people together for a common goal) took shape. Over time, 800 barrels, 50 vegetable gardens and eight parks spruced up the area.

He gave his newly purchased, ramshackle house the “Randy touch,” gathering bricks from homes in the area being torn down and believing in their energy, each with a story of the lives they housed. He lovingly positioned his collections of recycled objects around the yard and invited passersby to come in, chat and peruse at no charge.

Today, Randyland is a whimsical expression of pure joy. Colorful murals line the walls of the outdoor art space. The psychedelic staircase leads to nowhere and is decorated with bright colored metal chairs seemingly suspended in air. Mannequin heads sit on a table next to a pile of sand and toys. The worry box provides pen and paper and invites you to write down your concerns, then drop them in the box. Souvenirs are displayed on the honor system, requesting the purchaser to place the money in a nearby lock box. Seating areas welcome all to stay awhile, take in the assemblage of oddities that encircle them and read the uplifting visitor comments left on the bulletin board from all over the world.

Photo Randyland 4

I’m guessing the telephone is for emergency situations?

On a lovely Saturday afternoon, my visit to Randyland was an eye-opening experience of wonder and delight. My love of anything quirky and my awe and reverence for anyone a bit eccentric merged into a feeling of pure bliss. As I left that haven of happiness, I had a big smile on my face and a spring in my step, hoping never to forget how one man had the ability to turn waste into wonder.

Photo Randyland 5

 

 

 

Say What You Mean and Mean What You Say

 

Photo Say What You Mean

All she said was to make it a big anniversary celebration. All he heard was pig anniversary celebration. Hence, a suite at the Pig Palace, famous for Swine and Wine Night.

It only takes one gift of a toaster on your birthday or anniversary to get your attention. Why do we always assume that people know what we want, think or feel? Why do we shy away from saying exactly what we mean?

According to Psychology Today, most people tend to shrink from conflict and tolerate its consequences. Assertiveness need not be confused with aggressiveness. Addressing a situation sooner, rather than later, clears the air while it is still fresh in our minds. Letting someone know how their behavior impacted us can be accomplished openly and honestly without harboring any animosity. Saying something as simple as “…You hurt my feelings…” can begin a dialogue that hopefully leads to shared insights.

Think of how many misunderstandings could have been sorted out with a bit of discussion and how much ill will could have been prevented. Wouldn’t you rather have family and friends be aware of your honest feelings, rather than have you silently stewing over something that happened years ago?

Assumption is the cause of many a frustrating circumstance. Take the case of the innocent shopping list. Grateful that her husband agreed to do the grocery shopping, the methodical wife made a detailed list for him. Numbering each item, she realized on his return that he thought those numbers referred to the number of items he was to purchase. As they unloaded one bag of sugar, two bags of potatoes all the way up to 20 bags of dog food from their trunk, the conversation escalated into an argument, later the humorous anecdote shared at cocktail parties.

With a little information from Psychology Today, we could try honing our listening skills. As an active listener, we would seek to understand by questioning until we have that “ah-hah” moment. A reflective listener strives to clarify what they’ve heard. Either way, wouldn’t it be nice to know exactly what your spouse’s expectations are on a special occasion, what a pal’s meaning of friendship really is and what your boss’s comment about reaching your potential meant?

Following my own advice on behavioral styles, I decided to immediately confront Mr. Wiz* and Big A* on that fateful birthday I received the toaster. As they sat across from me, with expressions that mimicked a deer in headlights, I explained my disappointment. Waiting for a reply, they both suggested that I first look inside the toaster slots. Feeling particularly crumby, I had no choice, at that point, but to hug them dearly, the spa gift certificate still in my hand.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

 

 

 

Language Lost

Photo Lost Language

My hairdresser looked at me quizzically. She didn’t know what dungarees were. When I pointed out they were the pants she was wearing, she nodded and said “…Oh, you mean jeans…” It made me wonder how many perfectly good words in our vocabulary have been left to languish and finally vanish over time.

As jeans stylishly faded, so did dungarees. Dungarees were named after the thick, cotton cloth exported from India to England during British colonial times. Jeans borrowed its name from Genoa, Italy a more recent source of cloth. Wearing jeans evokes sipping a cappuccino at a café in high heels with legs crossed. Dungarees conjures up sweating while shoveling manure in the barn.

The dicky (also spelled dickie or dickey) began as a shirt front worn with a tux in the early 1900s and by the late 1900s transformed into a turtleneck sweater without the sweater. The over the head addition to any wardrobe created less bulk, both on the wearer and in his closet. Thought to be a classic fashion trend, you would be hard pressed to find even one Dicky of the Month club nowadays.

No one is sure how calf length trousers got their start or their name back in the 1950s. Rumor has it that no designer wanted their name associated with these pants that all of a sudden stopped midstream down your leg. Whether you called them pedal pushers or clam diggers, the short pants or long shorts just didn’t make the cut.

Culinary terms can also evaporate. The Jell-O salad jiggled its way onto everyone’s table until sneaky cooks started hiding yesterday’s leftovers in it. Fondue warmed our hearts until double dippers gave us concern for germs.

The biggest disappointment to me, personally, is the disappearance of Pig Latin. An easy to understand, made up language, it served its rightful purpose whenever speaking in code became necessary. No apps, language classes or tutors necessary; just transfer the first letter of a word to the end and add the suffix “ay.” Any boar can say “…Let’s meet at seven…,” but state it as “…Etslay eetmay taay evensay..” and you will really hog the conversation.

There’s no one stopping us from adopting a few of our favorite extinct words and casually dropping them into a sentence or two during the course of the day. Who knows? This could start a new trend of vintage vocabulary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Consistency Repeats Itself      

Photo Consistency

When I think back to when Big A* was a child, I remember that our daily routines had as much of a positive effect on me as they did him. Swimming classes in a hotel pool meant snacking on the free samples from its restaurant afterward. Naptime and bedtime each had their own protocols complete with talking stuffed animals. After making homemade pasta and cleaning up together, we would play the “Puccini and Pasta” CD, just in time for Mr. Wiz’s* arrival home. At an early age, Big A reasoned that if he remembered his manners, he would be invited along with us, rather than stay at home with a baby sitter. As he matured, he understood the consequences of unacceptable behavior.

Children thrive in a structured existence. They are happier and confident when they know what’s expected. According to verywellfamily.com, it provides limits, helps them organize and integrate information into their brains and gives them an understanding as to how the world works. Consistency provides a clear set of boundaries, helps them make better choices, understand responsibility and empowers them to respond positively.

If this makes a child a better person, why wouldn’t it make an adult a better person too? Actually, a routine is anything but mundane. Sometimes you just revel in the repetitiveness that makes you feel warm and cozy.

Once my alarm sounds each morning, it’s time for the weather report. I announce the temperatures in the cities where our families live to Mr. Wiz as a way of starting the day thinking about them all. Then, it’s time for a cup of tea, some quiet time and soon I’m locked away, writing. Dentist and doctor appointments are always rewarded by treating myself to something special. Music choreographs my chores.

The child in me is feeling more encouraged to flourish in the lovely repetitiveness of life that is anything but monotonous. Next, I’ll work on some new disciplinary tactics, giving myself a timeout and no second and third chances when I misbehave.

 

*Who’s who? See “Cast of Characters” on the “About” page.

 

Too Close for Comfort?

Photo Too Close Comfort

I settled into my seat, excitedly anticipating the start of the show. Munchkins and flying monkeys aside, “Wicked,” the back story to “The Wizard of Oz” would, hopefully, answer the questions I had about the good and wicked witches since I was a little girl. It wasn’t until the end of the performance that I realized that, had I sat back further, I would have appreciated the sets and costumes even more. Sometimes taking a step back is the smartest thing we can do.

Must we always be in the moment? Just as babies become overstimulated from too many sensations and experiences, we too get overwhelmed. Moving away from the issue at hand, taking a deep breath and giving ourselves time for contemplation can make all the difference in resetting our thoughts and feelings and rocking ourselves back to tranquility.

Whether we’re observing a still life in an art gallery or pondering if our life is still on track that one little backward movement gives us a bigger picture and a clearer view.

As it relates to our loved ones, seeing them up on an actual stage, experiencing an important stage of their lives with them or just watching them from afar, gives us a new perspective of who they really are.

Backing up, taking a look around us and appreciating how fortunate we are could do well to reverse those weighty thoughts into lighter feelings of gratitude.

So, let’s all remember that when things get a bit too close, all we need to do is give them a gentle nudge back to where they belong and realize that one step back is really one step forward in disguise.

Though no one can make a brand new start,
anyone can start from now
and make a brand new ending.

Carl Bard

 

Author’s note: Start watching for blog posts every other week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copycats; Imitating Nature

Photo Biomimicry

The answers have been there all along. According to its definition, biomimicry is an approach to innovation that utilizes proven strategies and designs that have already been adapted by nature. In other words, we are now learning from nature, rather than about nature.

The bumps on the flippers of the humpback whale help them to “grip” the water. This aerodynamic characteristic has been used in the design of wind turbines and is working to enhance the safety and performance of airplanes.

Modeling the front of a European hi-speed train after the beak of a kingfisher created a quieter ride and the use of 15 percent less electricity while the train traveled 10 percent faster.

Emulating a dolphin’s unique frequency capabilities, a high-performance underwater system has been developed as a tsunami warning system.

I happen to dabble in Biomimetics on the side. It doesn’t take long to discover that the natural world is chock full of concepts that are just begging to be adapted. In the course of my research, some stood out more than others. Calls to the Biomimicry Institute have gone unanswered, but I continue to persevere.

Make room, $2.5 billion dating market; here’s a new concept that will revolutionize the dating world. No more wondering if you should wait three days to call or if you talked too much at dinner; imitating the sage grouse mating rituals eliminates the stress and cuts to the chase. The male struts, fans his tail much like that of a peacock and makes a strange popping sound in order to attract a female mate; done! Call it the “Magic Mike” of the bird world, but I think there might be something to this.

The next time you shoo away ants, take the time to actually view a colony at work. Jobs are defined and assigned. Teamwork and organization are key. Persistence counteracts any obstacles and goals are met. No fancy business consultants are required to run this operation like a well-oiled machine. Instead of those expensive employee team building activities, I envision Ant 101; groups of employees out in a park, laying on the ground on their stomachs with iPads and laptops, documenting their tiny compadres’ remarkable achievements.

The bad news: a female polar bear gains 400 pounds during pregnancy. The good news: during delivery, she digs a maternity den in a snowdrift, hibernates for two months and actually sleeps through her pregnancy. Baby shower, dig, hibernate, baby, SlimFast for a year or two; call me crazy, but this just might beat out the new luxury birthing experiences being touted lately. I’m sure there are women out there that would trade a mani pedi for hibernation. Oh, and after two years, baby polar bears have been completely acclimated to their surroundings and are sent out on their own; no college bills and the longest empty nesting in history!

I now have a newfound respect for the environment. Each time I visit a zoo, hear a bird singing in a tree or watch a flower bloom, I’ll remember to slow down and wonder if we’ll all be mirroring them someday soon.