Statue of Liberty

I blew into NYC last week.  And then I blew right back out.

I think that sounds really cool, the blowing in and out of NYC.  Makes me sound like I do it all the time.

But I don’t.  I barely go to New York.  Last time I was there was ten years ago.  This is practically a sin.  New York City is NEW YORK CITY, right?  An iconic place.  An American iconic place.  I should be ... Continue reading »

La Grange, IL train station

I get away from the beach madness of Southern California in the summer to the quiet countryside of Western Illinois.   But it takes me longer to get from Newport Beach to Macomb than it takes me to get from LA to Paris.  This normally isn’t a problem.  The trip happens once at the beginning of the summer.  Then weeks later, at the end of the summer.

But this summer I had to leave Macomb right ... Continue reading »

The Snowman Who Could

It’s the oldest wish in the world.  Wanting snow in July.  Not just any July, but a July that is breaking all time heat records.

I love to visit snow.  In SoCal snow is but an hour away, so yes, that’s what we do.  We take day trips on Saturday up into the mountains and pretend we’re living back East.

I love snow at Christmas.  I positively adore snow on a ski trip, as I’m sure ... Continue reading »

My Summer Car

I have a new car back at home.  I love my car almost as much as I love my pets because I’m a Southern Californian and we love our cars inordinately.

But I’m on vacation now.  For six weeks I get to idle my time in the soft and green humidity of America’s heartland, far away from the sharp frenzy of the CA’s summer beach life.  And while I’m here, the buggy in the picture is my ... Continue reading »

Beach Red

Reading about winter clothes in Vogue, in the depths of a Midwest summer, has presented me with a challenge.  It turns out I’m supposed to wear red this winter and love it.   Oh, and by winter, Vogue means this fall.  Just so I’m clear.

This fall I’ll be in Paris.  In Paris, as all us American tourists have emblazoned on our brains like permanent dye, one wears black.  Not red.   Just ask me about the time I got ... Continue reading »

Orange Red Farm Door

I’m in this tiny town in Western Illinois and yesterday their monthly air raid siren went off.  It wailed long and strong.  Went on longer than the tsunami siren they’ve just installed at the end of the Balboa Peninsula.  And at the end, the sound even got creative.  Short and long and short again.

This morning a one- propeller plane flew over.  I haven’t heard an airplane in two weeks, let alone a propeller airplane.   I ... Continue reading »

Queen Anne's Lace

I just read the name of a recipe.  Pear Tart with Stilton Cheese and Cranberry Rash.  Cranberry Rash?  Ghastly.  Maybe they mean rasher, as in rasher of bacon.  Anything’s possible, just off the plane, train and automobile, getting from California to Illinois.

My head clears.  I look again.  Cranberry Relish.  The recipe is for Cranberry relish.

I hope the rest of my stay here goes like that.  My world upside down, but upside right if I read ... Continue reading »

Airports R not me, see.  That isn’t to say I think airports are you.  I’m just saying that, try as I might, try as I am zen-like in my approach to the airport experience, even during the disrobing section of the enterprise, try as I might remain cool and calm by doing my crossword puzzles, taking those strolls down the long, crowded corridors, pulling my laptop laden carry-on along with me, using the angry rest rooms which flush the toilet ... Continue reading »

Kitty and the Guest Bed

So, does your cat ditch you at night for the visitor?  Do your visitors appear in the morning with a triumphant grin and announce “Gosh, the cat slept with ME last night.”  Does your cat eschew loyalty and even good manners for the guest bed only when it is occupied by the guest?

Unfaithful little trollops, who do cats think they are? And furthermore, who does the guest think he is?  I know he feels ... Continue reading »

Chess Players

My father was chess champion of Pittsfield, Massachusetts when I was nine years old.  This was a defining event in my childhood.  Because I was the only kid in the house (and there were five others) who wouldn’t play chess with Dad.

Oh, he tried to teach me, but beyond the bait of the pieces being called fairy tale things like queen and  knight, the overriding issue was the fact that at the end, there would be a ... Continue reading »