We talked last week about traveling companions that are suited to our own style. But we didn’t venture into the dynamics of visiting other folks. Having spent several days with a good friend at her Tucson (technically Green Valley) home in February, I have been thinking about this dynamic quite a bit.
This is the first visit we’ve had together since her husband passed last summer and my first time to their winter home. When he was alive we had a lot of our meals at home. He and I had loving to cook in common so it was an easy part of the visiting routine. My friend doesn’t love cooking so on this trip we ended up eating out most of the time. In fact, prior to my arriving we had talked about having Mexican food every meal.
So I was surprised when she suggested pizza for dinner the first night. Then I found out that she meant a food truck/pizza oven run by two brothers that was almost always parked a few miles from her place – the Family Joint Pizzeria – apparently they have quite a following. You order your pizza then wait in your car (or at some adjoining picnic tables) and they bring it to you when it’s finished. They offer a few bakery items as well and we ate this huge (and delicious) concha while we waited.
I couldn’t pass up the Elote pizza, made with corn and cheese (the top one in the photo)
The other was a more traditional margarita. Both were unbelievably yummy.
Except for two breakfasts that we whipped up at home, we did indeed eat Mexican food for every other meal – and all at smaller, out of the way places that many of my friends might pass up. Lunch south of Tucson near the Tabac community (about 15 miles from the border) that served baby margaritas in jelly jars. We ate hot fry bread from a stand outside the San Xavier de Bac mission, unbelievably scrumptious cauliflower enchiladas at a place called Guadalajara’s and even breakfast at The Little One. We both had Huevos Divorciados – one egg with red sauce, one egg with green sauce (on tortillas) but separated on the plate by rice and beans. It was delightful but the most fun was having chips and salsa for breakfast!
It was a delightful surprise to have all these culinary adventures when previous visits hadn’t been as… exotic shall we say.
Tell me about a hole-in-the-wall place you’ve enjoyed>
I made a mistake over the weekend. I accidentally clicked on a YouTube of a couple building a tiny house from the ground up. I didn’t watch the whole thing but it was enough for cyberspace to jump on it. This morning my YouTube feed is filled with tiny house videos. They have not completely supplanted my usual card-making, dogs, Harry/Meghan (proverbial train wreck) videos, but there are A LOT of tiny house stuff. Sigh. I know that if I don’t open any more, they will eventually fade away but it’s a little irritating that cyberspace is so completely curating my online experience.
Then yesterday I opened up YouTube on my work laptop to look for a band for a client. The feed was nothing like my home feed and had a preponderant amount of “relaxing music” videos. This didn’t surprise me at first because my main use of YouTube at work has always been background soothing, relaxing music. When I started to think about it, I wondered how YouTube knew this… after all, this laptop is not the laptop I had before I retired. And I haven’t logged onto YouTube using a work address since August. So how did YouTube know, without my even asking, that relaxing music is likely to be what I want? This is just a hypothetical question – I’m sure I wouldn’t understand a real answer about the algorithms used by YT, FB, etc. But it is a little eerie and does make me wonder what my feed would look like if I searched for other random items every few days?
Do you care enough about anything to follow it in cyberspace?
On Saturday I went to the Celebration of Life for my oldest friend, Deana. She wasn’t my oldest friend in terms of age but in terms of longevity; there are folks that I have known longer but they fall into the acquaintance category. I met Deana in 1977 and we were fast friends from the beginning.
When she met my then-boyfriend, she used to refer to him as “the Greg Person” which eventually became “the GP”. Once we got married, if Greg picked up the phone receiver and then after a few seconds of silence, he would hand the phone to me saying “it’s Deana”. She always said she was so surprised when a man answered the phone that she was temporarily speechless.
At one point I took a cake decorating class from a visiting artist and one of the things we made were pink elephants sitting in champagne glasses. Deana adored these elephants and when her youngest got married, she had me make a groom’s cake covered with pink elephants and tipped over champagne glasses. It was hysterical.
Deana loved to travel – all her traveling involved throwing her bags and various children/grandchildren/great grandchildren into her big van and heading off down the road. She even included YA once when YA was about 10. That trip went to South Carolina and Florida.
She never wanted to retire – she always said she would work until the last minute. After leaving the food industry, she ended up at a support and housing organization for the intellectually disabled, a place where she worked for close to 40 years. She also worked at the local grocery store, managing the floral station.
Once when I visited I discovered all my Ukrainian eggs along with some shiny holiday ornaments hanging from the ceiling in the front room. She said it was too dangerous to have a tree up that year with her youngest having just learned to stand and walk but she didn’t want to entirely forego her ornaments.
I wouldn’t call her a hippy but she did love bright colors, especially tie-dye. She actually told folks before her death that she wanted people to come to her service in vibrant colors – no black or gray or, heaven forbid, navy blue.
Deana was a collector of people. If you wandered into her orbit, her gravity would grab you and never let go. She was very close to all of her family as well as those she considered family. The house was always full of kids and grandkids. If you needed a hand, Deana would be there to offer help.
At the service we sang one of her favorite songs, Puff the Magic Dragon. Normally a tear jerker for me but considering that Deana is gone, it was particularly poignant. And as always, I did not come prepared with enough tissues.
While I was in Green Valley, I hit my 1,000-day streak with my Italian lessons on Duolingo. I can’t think of anything I’ve ever done 1,000 days in a row, except for being a parent and breathing in/out all day!
I spend more time on my Italian these days than when I started. You’d think that 1,000 days would make me fluent but when it’s only 15-20 minutes a day, that won’t quite do it. I can read a fair amount of Italian at this point and if an Italian person spoke to me VERY slowly and didn’t get too complicated, I could understand. My accent is OK but speaking is my least proficient area – I’m still a bit slow on the uptake when trying to put sentences together.
The chance that I’ll ever actually get to use my Italian proficiency is pretty slim; not sure I’ll be getting to Italy again in my lifetime, but I figure I’ll keep it up as long as I’m still enjoying it.
What would you be willing to do for 1,000 days straight?
Population of 22,000 but at least five large golf courses.
Titan Missile Museum (also known as Air Force Facility Missile Site 8 – Arizona Aerospace) – deactivated in 1984.
Arid Garden – flora that is local to Arizona and states with similar geological features. Open 24/7.
Casa Grande Ruins National Monument — dating back to the early 14th century, the monument showcases the ruins of a walled compound, remnants of a village and the irrigation system used by early farmers.
Fred Lawrence Whipple Observatory — once called the Mount Hopkins Observatory, but it was renamed to honor American astronomer Fred Lawrence Whipple.
Mission San Xavier del Bac — Completed in 1797 as part of a Catholic mission, the church is the oldest example of European baroque architecture in the area and features incredible original statues and mural paintings.
Since I can’t stay away from anything sherlockian, you all know that I would eventually end up at the Sherlock Holmes Exhibition at the Minnesota Historical Society.
There are four parts of the exhibit. The first section is more or less straight up museum. Photos, documents and memorabilia. The doctor that inspired Doyle to write his stories, medical instruments from the time, London – even handwritten pages of Doyle’s work (there were several hundred of these initially offered for sale during his lifetime).
The second section was several kiosks discussing different areas of interest of the time: botany, printing, telegraphy and a few others. Most of the kiosks had an interactive feature – my friend Sara sent me a telegraph saying she was enjoying the afternoon with me. I enjoyed doing a rubbing of a newspaper article and finding the hidden message.
The third section was a re-creation of 221B Baker Street. You had to walk through and then there was a list of items that hopefully you had noticed. I had noticed 12 out of 16… took a bit to find to find the last four. Sara and I “helped” each other finish here.
The last section was a crime scene that we needed to solve. This was the hard part of the exhibit – ballistics trajectory, chemistry on a seed pod found at the scene, blood splatter evidence, drag marks in the sand… it was fun but even if you figured out every part of the crime scene correctly, there was no way you were going to solve it as it was presented at the end.
The exit of the exhibit was filled with photos and memorabilia from television and movies – I had to admit to Sara how many of the various films I had actually seen – including the 1922 John Barrymore version.
So I’m highly recommending the exhibit if you’re in the Twin Cities. (Although there is a lot of interactive pieces, if you’re taking a kid, you won’t be able to step back and leave them alone – it’s more on the level of a locked room mystery game if you’ve ever been in one of those.)
It was nice to see the Sun on Monday for a while. Feels like that was a month ago. Then Thursday it was sunny for a while. Maybe some sun coming…along with the cold. Man, February, I’m telling ya. It was nice to see the Sun on Monday for a while. Feels like that was a month ago. Then Thursday it was sunny for a while. Maybe some sun coming…along with the cold. Man, February, I’m telling ya.
I signed a contract for concrete this summer. I’m excited about that and looking forward to it. It’s going to be really nice. I also plan to get new electrical service run to the shed instead of the rube Goldberg way it gets there now. (Thank you Dad) And then next year will be insulation and walls. But it’s gonna be nice.
I meant to start writing this well before I did. I went to get something, and I got distracted vacuuming the entry way and mudroom. That area is always dirty. Between the dogs’ wet feet and me and my boots bringing in bits of straw and chicken manure, plus dirt, and gravel (That’s why it’s the mudroom). Doesn’t help that our 15-year-old dog Allie is suffering incontinence and often pees down there. Good thing it’s tile and in floor heat. We’ve tried the doggy diapers; can anyone make them stay on?? We can’t. Put it on, turn around, it’s off. Maybe it’s the shape of the dog.
Anyway, after vacuuming the entryway, I realized I should vacuum the basement steps. I know I’ve vacuumed them once or twice before, but it’s been a while. Plugged it up with a big chunk of something and pulled out a LOT of dog hair. And that led me to vacuum the bathroom downstairs. I don’t ever recall vacuuming in there although someone must have at some point, and then it was full and I had to dump it out again after I was done. Then I had to mix up the next step of the Amish Friendship bread batter, and in a round-about way I finally got around to writing this.
Wednesday, I needed chicken layer ration and I drove to Stewartville to pick up it up. Stewartville is about 10 miles south of Rochester. Back when I was milking cows, it was almost a weekly thing to pick up bags of something for the cows. Protein supplements, soybean meal, trace minerals, salt, mineral barrels, something; and it was all in 50-pound bags and I loaded and unloaded many many tons of bags by hand over the years. So, when I called Elgin Elevator to order the layer ration and they told me they don’t carry bagged feed anymore, well, I was filled with dysphoria. When I was a kid, I’d go there with Dad to pick up feed. It probably had a few other names, and I recall picking up feed in Viola MN, and Zumbro Falls MN, but usually it was Elgin. There was a merger last year and I can only assume that’s why they’re not carrying bagged feed anymore. Or perhaps it’s so many people moving to bulk products instead of bags. And that’s how I ended up in Stewartville getting a ton of layer ration.
It’s so easy these days- they put it in the truck with a folk lift, and I use the tractor and forks to take it off the truck and put it in the shed. ‘Work smarter not harder’ they say. But it’s hard to build muscles that way, the weaklings.
I did get to drive some nice roads that I don’t often get on. Drove past Fugles Mill, over the Root River, and past the Root River Park. But getting around or through Rochester is such a hassle. (I know, try Minneapolis you say).
It was fun to meet Krista and Pippin and move some eggs. 36 dozen so far in January!
With the cold weather coming in I’ll have the wellhouse heater on for the next week and will be trying to collect eggs before they freeze and crack.
Doing chores the other day and I had a bit of a traffic jam.
Didn’t get a chance to watch any movies this week. Kelly and I are trying to watch an episode or two of ‘Orange is the New Black’ every night.
Music has been a random assortment of my phone playlist, Radio Heartland, the XM 1940’s station, or ModernBigBand on the Jazz channel. Although on the drive to Stewartville my playlist was various songs by the band YES. Roundabout, South Side of the Sky, Yours is No Disgrace, I’ve Seen All Good People. It was nice. Course I had the dogs with me. Humphrey just lays in the back seat. Bailey spent the first half of the trip with her nose in my ear, and the second half in the front seat staring at me.
One thing I forgot when using the snow blower last week; I forgot about how blown snow lands and packs harder than falling snow. Here’s me digging out one door with a garden trowel I had in the gator –
There was another door I was going to leave for Kelly, but I found a shovel and dug that one out and got it open. Yep; forgot that part.
Bundle up for a while now and be careful out there.
MnDot announced the finalists yesterday for the Minnesota Name A Snowplow contest. If you haven’t heard of this before you may not be alone, although the contest has been held annually for a few years now. Last year’s winners were:
Betty Whiteout
Ctrl Salt Delete
The Big Leplowski
Plowasaurus Rex
Scoop Dogg
Blizzard of Oz
No More Mr. Ice Guy
Edward Blizzardhands
This is one winner per MnDot district. I haven’t been able to find out what happens after the winners are announced? Is there a plaque somewhere? Little signs on the snowplows? Patches for the snowplow drivers? Banquet?
There are 60 finalists so I am not going to name them all but will give you some of my favorites:
Bladezilla
It’s a Squall World After All
Taylor Drift
Hippoplowtomus
If you’d like to see all the finalists and vote for your top eight favs, here is the link:
In 2018 I retired after 39 years of life in Taiwan. I moved to Holland, MI, and bought a hundred year old house in the city.
The town was platted out sometime in the 1960s, and included alleys in the middle of blocks. One by one, the city “vacated” many of those alleys, but some remain. Near our house there’s one that a community association “neatened up” within the last 10 years. It’s an “art alley”. One back yard installation included a few racks of colored bottles on poles. They attracted me. I figured I could do that, myself, in my own yard.
After examining the installation, I decided that I could do it cheaper too. I sent out a request for empty bottles on a neighborhood bulletin board, and got “not few” responses, sometimes linked to statements that “we didn’t drink all that wine” or “the bottles accumulated over a long time.” (That’s Holland, MI piety speaking). My own installation, because I did it on the cheap side, blew apart in the wind more than once. Lots of bottles and red vases smashed before I finally figured out how to make it secure.
As I live and drink, I accumulate bottles regularly. Three windows in the garage were “bottled up” in 2022. More racks and installations have taken places in the yard. As I write, there are 50 bottles and vases, drilled and washed, waiting in the basement for another inspiration to strike.
With the kitchen project, electricians, plumbers, dishwasher installers, etc. all calling me the last three to four weeks, I’ve been answering unknown numbers more than usual. Some of the time it’s been someone I want to talk to, some of it’s folks looking for my money.
Yesterday morning I was still expecting a couple more calls about the dishwasher so I picked up an area code “952” when it rang. I knew straight away it probably wasn’t the dishwasher but I usually wait to hear what my unknowns want before I give them the brush off. She jumped right in an identified herself as calling from a colonoscopy center and asking when my last one was. I was able to truthfully tell her I had done the mail-in a couple of months ago and then we ended the call. Who would have thought you’d ever get a call like this?
I spent all afternoon thinking about it and imagining what she tells people at parties when they ask what she does. “I make cold calls to talk people into colonoscopies” aren’t words that I’d be willing to say to strangers.
What is a current trend that you just don’t understand?
