Category Archives: Travel

Kottbullar

Yes, we had Swedish meatballs delivered yesterday, direct from Sweden. Our neighbor G also gave us dark chocolate-covered toffee called Dumle, and Bilar, tiny marshmallows shaped like cars. I’ll wait until my husband comes home to try those. The chocolates are great and the kottbullar are in the freezer.

Neighbor G made us the tenderest and most succulent meatballs a few weeks ago before leaving for Sweden with his dad. He promised to teach me how to make them and I think I’ll teach him true Texas chili in return.

As a host gift for dinner I ordered Lingonberry jam and brought flowers. I ordered a jar for us too, and have yet to open it. It is so exciting to learn of cuisines we are not familiar with, and the only place I can think of that serves Swedish food is a couple of hours drive and inside an IKEA.

Of course I’ve my American (?), Italian, French, Greek and Brit cuisines. Boeuf Bourguignon, Spaghetti alla Carbonara, Moussaka, Moules Mariniere (from Scotland’s shores). Also Mexican cuisine, of course, and Canadian. But we rarely go north or south of the usual suspects.

Every once in a while we get to travel overseas for work and are able to settle in for a month or three. Aside from missing our dog, this is my favorite kind of visit. Several days in Scotland and I was sought out by all the Japanese tourists as an expert – I was not and told them so but taught them to go to the local sporting goods store to buy postcard stamps thus saving a couple of hours at the post office. Sneaky, my husband calls me.

My idea of the worst vacation in the world is 22 countries in three days. I like to do my research in advance, purchase museum passes for the time we’ll be there, and see everything my husband hates (art, botanical gardens) while he’s at work. In Scotland I also had a girlfriend from home who moved there so we met and spent two days a week touring castles and museums. And eating mussels and salmon as my husband is deathly allergic to anything that swims. Having a friend there is definitely an added bonus.

It was unnecessary and very kind of G to bring us gifts from Sweden. He misses his dad already, and so do I. It was nice driving him around town to see, what else, art and botanical gardens!

When I’m in a particularly spectacular surrounding I like to keep a file of up-to-date brochures and calendars in the guest room so if they want to ski or see summer Olympic skiers land in oxygenated water, or learn about Greater Sandhill Cranes during nesting season, or take the Town Lift up to the top of the mountain and hike down, they have options.

Your town has its treasures. Go to your visitor center and pick up a few brochures for guests. If someone is coming in from another country, try to have a menu that showcases your part of the country: Buffalo wings; BBQ; planked salmon; or huevos rancheros. Happy cooking! Dee

Paying it Forward

Forget about early this morning. My husband dropped me a a local drycleaner/shop to mend a pocket and clean his trousers and I was to walk home. I stopped by the grocery store and picked up dinner and started the walk back.

On one block I was halfway across the street when this driver sped up and threatened to kill me. I yelled “STOP!” I am older than his mother and had a heavy bag of groceries and he was going well over the speed limit to come up upon me that way.

He turned the corner, put down all the windows and said every swear word I’ve heard in the past 20 years, all at once, while saying that I had no right to be in the street and that he had no f-ing stop sign. I sure hope he doesn’t talk to his mother in that tone of voice or with as many expletives.

It got better. I moved a lot as a kid. My husband and I know moving and have become experts at it every few years as he moves up in the world.

Perhaps someday someone will pay it forward to us. I’m not counting on it. I like to make dinner for a new neighbor who’s coming in, hopefully I’m already making a casserole like lasagne and they can just throw it in their oven and keep supervising the movers and unpacking.

Tonight I helped someone who was moving out of the neighborhood. He needed a set of Allen wrenches and I asked “standard or metric?” Well, when he returned them 1/2 hour later he brought a lovely bottle of French wine as a thank-you. Otherwise he would have been gone two hours to buy the tools that were probably already on the moving truck.

One thing I stick by, even though people remove it before new residents take their place is toilet paper. I always leave a roll in each bathroom because I know what it’s like to be sipping diet Coke and water for 8 hours and finally get to a new home.

I know how to expertly tape a box and the importance of uniformity of boxes on the truck, especially to keep dirt and dust out on an ABF truck which are now insulated so a tarp doesn’t have to go down first. Also, a well-used professional tape dispenser saves hours, especially if there’s enough embedded tape on  the cutter that it’s just a wrist snap away. Carpal tunnel, no but arthritis, yes.

Labeling is key. Home, Car, Storage (like AWD tires in the winter and Snows in summer), et al in colors with a letter. Then I always label by room and have post-it’s for every door. MBR, LR, Den, et al. We always take dog food, picnic food and OTC drugs like Ibuprofen in a box in the car. Along with the dog on her 4″ orthopedic bed, of course; not that she’s spoiled.

We moved once with a museum curator taking care of the art, a lawyer with furniture coverings, and other experts. The curator told me to leave her alone so I only made lemonade and snacks for our captives. She would be pleased to know that I’ve had many things framed over the years and may even approve, even though none are 3-D.

As I see it, life is always an adventure. It is always a joy to meet new people from different places and expand our horizons. Cheers, Dee

Wake up Singing

I do most every morning. Luckily I don’t keep it in my head for days. Right now I’m singing Patsy Cline’s “Walking After Midnight.” I’ll let you know when I awaken with another. I’m thinking maybe Johnny Cash.

Perhaps it’ll be Robert Duvall’s eclectic selection on Crazy Heart, an a cappela treasure.

The snowplows are finally coming by, I just took the dog out as she wouldn’t awaken last night for a final pee. It’s still dark, no sign of sun. She’s back up on the bed with my husband to enhance her beauty sleep. Must be why she’s prettier than me even though she’s older now, 70 in dog years.

You Ain’t Woman Enough to Take My Man is what I sang yesterday morning, in my head. I’ll have to go back to sleep now to get another. Of late I’ve been thinking of the late, great genius Pete Seeger (rip) and To Everything There Is A Season.

Now I want to go NYC and see the new Carole King musical Beautiful. If we could get away for just a weekend that would be a treat. Add MOMA or the Cloisters, and the Met and I’d be happy, but my husband wants to see the Natural History Museum as well, plus we have to take my brother to dinner, my favorite Italian place closed in his neighborhood and we’re already over-booked. Such is NYC.

Let’s see what song today brings. No, it won’t be anything from “Annie.” Dee

Travel Experiences

Museo Villa Puccini on Torre del Lago in Tuscany is a wonderful place. Why? It tells me what gave Giacomo Puccini the inspiration to write my favorite operas.

The house isn’t fantastic, but when we went there I recognized a photo on the piano of a very young girl and her grandfather and knew this grand-daughter would be showing us around and telling stories.

As I saw the home, grounds and lake I liked to get a feeling for what inspired someone to write such great works as La Boheme and Madame Butterfly.

Today, I’m a top contributor to a major travel site and they’d rather know the entrance fee and whether they accept strollers. You know who you are because you won’t let me get in touch to write reviews of esoteric things like music, images, or experiences that don’t fit the common format.

I’ve an entirely new concept for you but you don’t have a phone and won’t answer email. So people worldwide will be bereft to never have seen Artemesia Gentilleschi’s self-portrait. She was the only female artist of the Renaissance known today and I saw it at the Queen’s Gallery on a brief viewing and it is now back at Buckingham Palace for no-one to see. The marvel is that I joined a group of women at the corner of the room with the painting and it was a remarkable experience to talk of art and women.

Travel sites don’t want to hear about that, only about whether you traveled couples, single or on business.

At the 1964 World’s Fair, I was five and my parents took me down an escalator to a blackened room. In the middle was a spotlight on the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Michelangelo’s Pieta. The escalator brought us right back up without an opportunity to exit to see the work. A few years later some jerk shot it so it is now under supreme security. I went back at age 25 to the Sistine Chapel to see it again. It still takes my breath away.

No travel site will let me write that, they want to know if it has restrooms.

I saw the legendary Scylla and Charybdis and took a yacht through the Strait of Corinth. There are stories around that.

All the travel site wants to know if I traveled within the past year or my review is invalid. How long has the Parthenon stood? Will it have changed but a few centimeters if I was there ten years ago?

Perhaps this story site will change a bit not just about travel but things of the heart wherever they may be, at home or abroad. I may still do hotel and restaurant reviews but am limited by that company’s small-mindedness. They say thanks for being a top contributor but don’t want ideas so I’ll plant some here to make travel better for all, and share stories that may stir your heart. Cheers, Dee

Canadaway Creek

This past year I had a photo framed. I bought it at a fund-raiser for an educational institution. It is by an esteemed writer, editor and photographer who is now gone, dated 1982.

It was of the creek I grew up on, climbed down a cliff to get to, caught crawdads and didn’t even think of cooking them, had black snakes thrown at me by neighbors and cherry bombs tossed in the back of my shirt. We also made hay forts (boys vs. girls), swam, played in the sand and learned a bit about horses.

And I read. At age eight I read Death Be Not Proud by John Gunther and The Diary of Anne Frank. I learned a lot in those years.

My favorite time was going down the 100′ rope my grandfather made, by myself and exploring what I called the “enchanted forest.” There were colored leaves on the ground, it was silent and I could gather my thoughts before being called up to dinner.

Celebrated singer and friend Juni Fisher wrote a song about the Mockingbird call which is what her mother used when she was lost in the woods. My mom’s was a car horn beeped three times but when Juni sang it for Nanny a few years ago there was a resonance of being called home.

I’ve told my husband to scatter my ashes in the enchanted forest. It is where I learned to live so framing this photo and making it a focus in our home is important to me. I took a picture of the framed photo and sent it to her daughter.

I believe that when you do good and others do evil, what comes around goes around. Maybe not in this lifetime. Learn something every day, do good things like adopting from your local animal shelter, and be happy. Dee

Travels and Travails for Zoe

Dear Reader,

I am Zoe, a herding dog, breed unknown but probably between Aussie and Border Collie. My folks got out a suitcase last night and finished packing it before I was done with my beauty sleep this morning and it was like planning for the invasion of Normandy.

Mom told Dad he had to pack his own bag with help so he could hang up his belongings and bring them all home. She says Dad hasn’t packed a suitcase in 12 years. I’ve only been around for nine so no judgment there.

He stole my pillow I’ve had for five years to use on the plane and in the hotel. I’ve been looking for him all day, not just for the pillow. Mom is calm and into our routine. I have been badgered by a man whose friend says he is afraid of dogs and I got nowhere near him and he and Mom argued for a few moments. I’m only sorry he’s afraid of us dogs because he’s missing out on a good thing.

Then there were fireworks. I’m not really scared of them but they are loud and bother my ears. I was still looking for Dad to come home even though Mom is taking good care of me. She did eat the rest of my meat loaf for dinner, though. In order to make her feel guilty for me missing a pack member I did jump on the sofa three times tonight, and that’s not allowed. She did not make me jump down.

Then there have already been two late night Coast Guard exercises with helicopters and now she’s gone to her desk to write this and I had to come see her. Now when she goes back to bed she’ll have to lift me up again. I have no hips and am getting old.

I look forward to our pack being together again tomorrow as right now I think Mom has to go to sleep and I’ll protect her. Canine friends, keep rescuing Timmy from the well. I’m learning the Lassie salute. Zoe

Instruments

I had a revelation today. As the lightning, thunder, wind, rain, snow and sleet came down around me I realize I have a voice.

When I was young, it was channeled into violin, piano and ballet. Then my parents got me a cheap guitar and I started up a mainly tone-deaf band at age 12.

I gave it all up. Singing a solo and being second then first chair violin was stressful. I was very shy and one parent told me I could do anything or be anything, and the other said I was worthless. That guitar was stolen.

A few years ago after I filed our taxes (which I’ve yet to do this year) I went in and bought a starter guitar and signed up for lessons. I took private lessons from  a gospel singer, then a drummer. I bought a fancy guitar and the only thing I do for it now is keep it hydrated.

I wondered why I couldn’t keep up the music, then just figured it out in this storm. I’ve found a voice. Some folks around me don’t like it, but for the past 15 years I have a voice. I called both my US Senators today. My voice and my pen (keyboard now) are my instruments for now.

Yes, every once in a while I lay back, close my eyes, tune my guitar and play Bye Bye Miss American Pie, or Teach Your Children, or even 500 Miles. Perhaps I’ll do that now.

My voice needs to be my voice and words until they are no longer needed, then I can play another instrument. I am a multi-tasker but with everything else… Think about it, Dee

Travels With Ghirlandaio

I was first introduced to Domenico Ghirlandaio by Fr. Murphy. Art history in college. This Franciscan priest (R.I.P. Fr. John) made me want to learn, as have others, don’t be jealous Fr. Cap.

Slides were not enough. When I walked up the mountain from Sta. Croce to San Miniato al Monte I saw the chapel. I can’t really see it right now because the glare is bad even through shades but just google Ghirlandiao.

Please do take the time to see Sta. Croce and the Pazzi Chapel, then cross the bridge behind it and make the walk. Stop at the church halfway up and give some money to the lady who takes care of the feral cats there. Make sure she knows the money is for the gatti, or cats, otherwise she’ll be insulted as if you called her a beggar. She used to bring them great trays of pasta from a local restaurant.

Then I went to cooking school in Tuscany for my birthday one year and went to San Gimignano for an afternoon. 18 of us were on a custom bus and we had one hour to see the town. Two of us ran 20 minutes to Sta. Fina, with earlier Ghirlandiao fresci. Spent 20 minutes there then ran back and made it just in time.

If you don’t have the resources for an art tour of Italy right now (I don’t) please check out Tea With Mussolini, a film with Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, Joan Plowright, and Cher. If you’ve been to Florence or San Gimignano you may even recognize the streets as it was filmed beautifully. Yes, Cher, and brilliant as a newly rich American with a heart of gold.

Take care and think about how art changes lives. Then remember that art was all people had before Guttenberg and reading. Think of your reading skills and your children’s and have them appreciate art as well. There is a reason for all those religious stories in painting and sculpture, no matter what religion you follow of if you follow none at all.

I started with my nephew at age nine and tried two different lessons: Medieval vs Renaissance and the lesson was perspective and realism; and ancient vs modern, Renaissance as opposed to Liechtenstein or Tara Donovan clouds with drinking straws.

All he said to his dad later that evening, after seeing a Gaston Lachaise nude with huge breasts. was that it “was not entirely age-appropriate.” And I kept him out of the room with French nude paintings. Oh, well. I tried. Please do so! Dee

 

 

Blackbird, Bye Bye

Pack up all your cares and woes,

Here I go, singing low, bye bye blackbird

…… blackbird, bye bye.

Last post, they’re selling my posts. I never wanted or got a nickel from them, I will be removing them from WordPress.

I don’t know how to do this as I’m a writer and not a techie, that’s probably why they allow people to steal my words and sell them.

To my readers, I salute you and will be back on other than WordPress. Thank you for being with me and inspiring me these few years. The grandmother who died before I was a year old sang that song to me, to get me to go to sleep. It’s that time. Dee

 

The Room Picnic

It’s funny that as I write about cooking and quilts and such, that my families (mine and my husband’s) have at least one thing in common, a passion for fabric, linen, tea towels, serviettes.

Here I am showcasing their works and am proud to do so. A few weeks ago I found my great-grandmother’s linen-embroidered scalloped tablecloth that had yellowed. I washed it and hung it to dry and it looks great, just needs ironing.

Jim’s mother has gifted us with quilts and other linens over the years, that are treasured.

But more about room picnics. As a kid, we had four maternal cousins and three aunts and Papa. When 14 of us met every summer (we lived about 8 hours away) we always had one meal in the room.

My aunts would cook for days and bring coolers with food and beverages and we always had “serviettes,” cloth napkins, even though we might be at the local Holiday Inn or some variety thereof with a pool so we could swim ourselves silly.

My father hated room picnics. He’d rather have waitress service downstairs. I have fond memories of them. We were usually in our swimsuits, toweled dry and came to eat a few morsels before going back to the pool.

Sorry, Dad, you once said that all we talked about was food. What was for lunch, where are we eating dinner? Now you cook. You know your favorite restaurants in every city and you eat well. Your eldest daughter (moi) trained as a chef.

What is life if one doesn’t look forward to eating the next meal? And what else is there to talk about with 14 for dinner, on vacation?

It’s a joy to talk about recipes et al with family and friends, and to prepare meals that delight guests. It’s wonderful to have an arsenal of serviettes and torchons and tea towels and tablecloths. And quilts as conversation pieces and prized art.

When we look for hotels, depends with/without dog, but we like a place with a safe for our laptops, a real 1/2 frig for breakfast items, and choosing a pillow is a good thing. Thanks, Martha, for your birdcage curtain/quilt rods. Cheers, Dee