This post inspired by Cee’s B&W Photo Challenge. The topic this week: Looks Like a Face
A grill with a sense of humor?
Back in the days of home ownership, we left our gas grill out on the side deck all year. Covered up. It was too big and cumbersome to lug down 4 stairs en route to storage in the garage.
So, why not use it year round?
Winter arrived. Every year…bringing snow and more snow. Burying the deck. Including the grill.
Just needed to shovel a path. Clear away the snow. Bundle up. Grab a flashlight. Move fast. Hope the gas hadn’t run out. Grilling hamburgers one New Year’s eve comes to mind. Much to the surprise of our visiting guests.
Only steps from the kitchen door, the grill was also my route to avoid using the broiler pan. And the resulting greasy, crusty mess. Including scrubbing out all those slats. Never a popular chore…especially for my teenage son who was often recruited for the task.
One snowy January day, this is what greeted me when I opened the side door…
…either mocking me…or offering a friendly greeting.
Nancy Merrill is hosting a photo challenge. The theme this week – Shimmer
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO OR TWO (OR MORE) THAT SHIMMER.
Once again I am able to share a photo from my favorite beach. Taken during a solo vacation many years ago. Where I enjoyed warm weather, sunshine and long walks along the water’s edge. No schedule except for one of my choosing…including photo opportunities I couldn’t resist.
Sparkly sand. Sun. Water. Waves.
Coronado Beach, CA
A more recent walk…not so warm. Early Spring in New England.
A local pond still holding a partial sheet of ice.
The late afternoon sun still doing its amazing thing…
Irene Waters’ “Times Past” prompt challenge topic for March is: School Uniforms
For this months times past I thought we would look at school uniforms or lack of them. Do you see a value in wearing a uniform. For those in countries that don’t have uniforms would your prefer to have one. Tell us your memories of what you did with your uniform to make it a little more attractive. Any memories at all.
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As a baby boomer growing up in the USA, I went to public schools. No uniforms. But there were rules about what to wear. Would it have been easier to have worn a uniform? I’m not sure, except perhaps as an equalizer between the haves and the have nots. Or the fashionable and the not so fashionable.
Gym day for girls in grammar school meant I could wear pants (and sneakers!) to school. My favorite day for both reasons: pants plus gym.
High school rules governed skirt length until I was in the 10th grade…and girls were allowed to wear pants. Hallelujah. I will just barely mention the ugly one piece green jumpsuit type “uniforms” we had to wear in high school PE class. I had to sew my last name on the back. I always felt sorry for the girl in my class whose last name was Zitts.
Girl Scouts.
Now that required a uniform.
I started out as a Brownie and worked my way up to Cadette, excelling at cookie sales…not so much at sewing.
I lasted through the 7th grade, at which point all the rules and requirements didn’t appeal to me anymore. I was a questioner. That did not jive with many Girl Scout Laws.
I also pushed the envelope that year during the troop trip to DC. I spotted boys in a hotel room window across the alley from our hotel room. I was 13. Called them, giggled and hung up. A few times with my roommates. I managed to talk my way out of being sent home.
Brownie salute – age 8
When I was 10 and 11 years old, I went to a Girl Scout overnight camp.
What did I love about it?
Being outside. Hiking. Campfires.
Making Campfire Stew. New friends.
Arts and Crafts.
What did I not like?
Mosquitoes. Latrines.
Eating cold canned Spam on hikes.
Uniforms.
The required uniform: white (yes, white) short sleeved blouse, green belted shorts, green knee socks and a rope lanyard. Not comfortable. And even at that young age, the regimentation of it bothered me. It made no logical sense. Who wears knee socks in the summer? (although I think I skipped those on occasion).
This photo was taken on the first day…while the uniforms were still clean! The 3 counselors are in the middle front row. I am standing, 6th from the left.
Girl Scout Camp Group Photo
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When I was 13, I went to a YWCA overnight camp.
No uniforms and no canned Spam!
I stayed for a month.
How about the wonders of the food we eat? The colorful & crunchy vegetables that grow from the ground – if carefully tended and nurtured and harvested.
From the earth we need to take better care of…but that’s another blog post topic all together.
A huge light bulb moment in the 7th grade changed my life. I asked my science teacher Mr. Jackson about potassium. My mother needed to increase her intake and I thought he might know the answer. It was a chemical after all.
His answer? Broccoli. Bananas. He then gave me a list of high potassium foods. It was that simple.
I had no idea until that moment in time that natural foods were that important. And what “healthy” as an adjective in front of “food” could really mean. Eat. Chemical reactions in the body. Feel better.
I went on to study nutrition and dietetics in college. My career resulted. Thanks to Mr. Jackson. Teachers: another wonder.
A true wonder of the world? I believe it starts with vegetables. Broccoli…peppers…carrots….
And then, of course, fruits.
As I used to show my patients, drawing a line down the center of a paper plate (way before the publicized “My Plate” visual), vegetables should take up half your plate.
Not always a popular suggestion.
Vegetables may not be exciting.
But they are still a wonder…
Are we here to eat or play cards? You haven’t got a ghost of a chance. Throw one away you won’t have so many. Don’t bend the tickets!
Punt! Discharge!!
Card games: May I…Pinochle…Hearts…
Always accompanied by my grandfather’s litany of patter. To keep squirmy card players at attention. Snack crumbs to a minimum. Playing cards unbent. Always with a smile; however small, tugging at the corner of his mouth. The corner not clamped tight on a lit Pall Mall. The smile winning out at the last directive – discharge in lieu of discard – to get a rise out of my mother who was predictably horrified every time. Snickering ensued amongst the rest of us. Every time.
My grandfather – Opa – was a talker. A rabid card player. And so was I.
He did not offer endless pieces of advice…but a few come to mind:
The Ticket
I was 21 and had just started seriously dating the man I eventually married 3 years later. I was home that March on my college spring break…and spent a weekend visiting Opa and Oma. As we shared a booth waiting for pizzas at a local restaurant, he sat directly across from me. Oma was on my right. The conversation shifted from his questions about my nutrition classes…to questions about my romantic boyfriend. Who had sent a dozen yellow roses. To me. At their house…FTD!
What does he do? He’s a musician…
Uh, huh…? He’s going to be a music teacher when he graduates this year.
Okay that’s good. Opa’s expression at this point relaxed somewhat, but remained neutral. I suspected he was hoping I was in love with someone who would earn lots of money. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Never mind what my career would bring…but I was a year away from graduation at that point.
And then he got to it…
Shifting in his seat, he leaned forward. Looked straight at me, his glasses sliding down his nose.
His blue eyes bored into mine.
Honey.
Remember This.
Wait For The Ticket.
Immediately Oma kicked him under the table. Muttered his name in a warning.
Waiting for my reply, he repeated:
Wait For The Ticket.
Never breaking his gaze. Uncharacteristically serious.
I nodded. Not really embarrassed, I kept my reaction as noncommittal as possible.
He didn’t want me to repeat his history.
Breastfeeding Is Best
Opa was beyond excited at the prospect of becoming a great grandfather. When I was expecting my first child, he would check in with me every so often to ask about my health. And plans for the baby. Including what the baby’s diet would be. I told him I was planning to exclusively breastfeed. He was thrilled. Your Oma breastfed your mother for a year!
He was one of the first people I called when my daughter was born. His first words…after congratulating me…were:
If You Breastfeed Her For The First Year Everything Will Be Fine!
Nancy Merrill is hosting a photo challenge. The theme this week – Cityscape/Townscape
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO OR TWO (OR MORE) FEATURING CITIES OR TOWNS.
I had the good fortune this past weekend to visit with my son, his girlfriend and their sweet pup. They live in the Boston area in a 4th floor walkup apartment. Lots of walking ensued…over 12,000 steps worth.
I also didn’t miss the opportunity to run into the middle of the street for photo ops along the way.
Boston and its suburbs – which often have the same look and feel of Boston proper – offer the usual old city buildings packed in amongst newer, more trendy coffee shops and ice cream stores. Apartments. Duplex homes and condos. A blend of the historical and present day.
Fortunately the snow had melted off the sidewalks and the sun was shining when we arrived at the Coolidge Corner subway stop in Brookline on Saturday.
Coolidge Corner Brookline, Massachusetts
On the way to my son’s apartment…a canopy of trees caught my eye.
However, when we turned the corner heading out of Brookline…I noticed a strange parade approaching.
One I did not expect to see in the middle of a suburb of a major city.
Waiting for no one to stop or move over, they just marched on from one corner to the next…hurrying on their way.
I am not the morning person in the family. Never have been. Prying my eyes open before coffee for any useful purpose…not advisable. Focusing on anything that early in the day would not lead to my best work….
In search of a suitable photo for this challenge, I knew just where to look. My husband – definitely a morning person – even a cheerful morning person at that – had just what I was looking for. And graciously agreed to contribute the following photos, taken on his morning walks before work.
My grandfather Opa left behind a large box of photographic slides. Hundreds of them encased in shiny metal slide mounts. Fitted into 1940’s and 1950’s era slide magazine cases. For viewing in a slide projector.
I inherited this box of treasured memories of the many travels he and my Oma embarked on…before advancing age and illness ended their adventures.
After unearthing the box in our basement during the let’s-get-ready-to-downsize years, I removed all the slides from the magazines…and mounts. Viewed them on a lighted slide sorter. And kept a sampling of my favorites (eventually inspiring one of my first blog posts…slides!)
one letter UP ~ diary 2.0 