chez pez

matt elliott

2011-11-01T13:34:00.006-04:00

Matt Elliott at my 50th birthday party, May 15, 2011

Matt was happy.

Matt was at a happy point in his life, doing what he loved in the neighborhood he loved.

I’m taking great comfort in that.

Matt Elliott died on October 27.

Matt was one of those people that I knew would always be part of my life. Who knows where our individual lives would have led, but I knew without a doubt that Matt would be around.

I first meet Matt when we were selling beer for a little craft beer distributor and I soon realized that Matt was everywhere. At various times over the last sixteen years we’ve played poker together, worked across the street from each other, sat next to each other at boxing matches, attended the same shows and tended for each other’s cats.

We took turns being across from each other at various counters and bars– sometimes me waiting on Matt, sometimes Matt waiting on me – sometimes both in the same day. Most fun were the times we were sitting on the same side of the bar. Those meetings typically weren’t planned, but you always knew that Matt was good for excellent conversation and that you were sure to have at least one belly laugh and leave with a bunch of random Indiana-centric facts. If the conversation involved meat or chocolate or newspapers or books or beer, all the more better.

Matt was delightfully curmudgeonly. He was well-versed in the things that caught his fancy and opinionated in almost everything. If he dug his heels in the ground, there was no budging him. I finally gave up in asking him to have decaf coffee brewed in the morning at the Newsstand Café. But he didn’t let differing opinions get in the way of a good conversation or friendship. In the middle of a debate, he’d throw in a charming wink.

Matt was one of those ‘all in’ guys. He didn’t do anything halfway. We swapped cat feeding duties at various times over the years. I would dutifully feed his cat, fetch the mail and turn on lights while he was out of town. Matt would camp out at my house while I was out of town; keeping my Felix company, enjoying sleeping on my ancient sofa, exploring my stacks of books, and the adventure of living a few blocks away for the week.

For years we worked across the street from each other and the Atlas Food Market was on the same corner. After the fixtures and contents of the Market were auctioned off, Matt realized that they hadn’t sold the wooden sign from the alley side of the building. Matt plotted rescuing the sign for months, but he felt the time was never quite right – which drove me nuts. Matt was deliberate and thoughtful about projects, a right–tool-for-the-right-job sort of guy. I’m a dive in and pound-nails-in-the-wall-with-the-heels-of-my-cowboy-boots sort of woman. One evening, after yet another conversation about the sign, I excused myself, drove around the corner, parked next to the building, hopped in the back of my truck, and crowbar’ed the sign down. Ten minutes later I returned to report that the sign was ready to deliver to his house. It is now on the wall of Twenty Tap, across the street from where Atlas used to sit.

Matt was a charming escort. And not just because he owned a tuxedo. I drug him to various fancy fundraisers over the years and he could always make me feel comfortable. I tend to wig out over those things – and convince myself that I don’t belong and I’m not wearing the right thing – you get the picture. By the time Matt and I figured out who’s vehicle could actually hold a passenger (we’re both notorious messy car folks), who’s car was mechanically sound enough to get us downtown, and if we had enough cash to park the car and tip the bartender, I was a mess.

My very favorite Matt memory comes from one of those nights. I was feeling especially tense. I’d already spent $300 on tickets, purchased a fancy dress, and was missing my Red Key shift. I was feeling particularly poor and out of place. There was wine on the tables, but I’m not a wine drinker – wine tends to make my face red and my mood morose – not something you want when you’re already feeling weird. Matt excused himself, found a bar across the street and walked back into the gala with a glass of my favorite whiskey. A man at the table remarked, “Wow, he must really love you.”

Matt really loved all of his friends and would go out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and had exactly what they needed. Except for decaf coffee, maybe.

I did love and admire Matt. After spending time with him my heart always felt full -- from gratitude of living in a community that allows you to meet folks like Matt, and the joy of making strong grown-up friendships.

Rest in peace, my friend. And I’m glad you were happy. Seriously.

Indiana State Fair Day 11 - 2011 edition

2011-08-15T23:27:00.000-04:00

Who knew that I'd find the chug of a steam engine tractor so comforting?

Read about the Remembrance Ceremony and my day at the Fair by clicking here.

Indiana State Fair - Day 10 - 2011 Edition

2011-08-14T13:45:00.000-04:00

Today is an incredibly sad day. The stage at the Indiana State Fair Grandstand collapsed last night, killing five, with scores of others hurt.

You all are familiar with my deep love of the State Fair and the fact that I've leaned against that very stage dozens of times with camera in hand waiting for the concert to start.

Thanks to all of my blogging friends that reached out last night through facebook and e-mails. I safely at my waitressing job when the tragedy occurred.

Please click here for my thoughts on the day.

Sending cyberhugs to you all. xoxxox

indiana state fair - day 9 2011 edition

2011-08-13T13:41:00.000-04:00

Another great day at the Fair.

Click here to read all about it!

indiana State Fair day 8 - 2011 edition

2011-08-12T19:02:00.001-04:00

Another fine day at the Indiana State Fairgrounds. Read all about it by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 7 - 2011 edition

2011-08-11T22:05:00.000-04:00

I can't tell you how nervous I was about the "Meet the Artists" reception. First of all, I couldn't believe that anyone would actually want to meet me, then I was afraid that I'd stumble over my words.

It was well attended and I think I did okay.

Read about it by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 6 - 2011 edition

2011-08-10T14:42:00.000-04:00

I was on the T.V. Read all about it and see the clip by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 5 - 2011 edition

2011-08-09T14:38:00.000-04:00

An epic day at the Indiana State Fair. Read all about it by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 4 - 2011 edition

2011-08-08T14:34:00.000-04:00

Finally, some rain!

Read all about my trip to the Indiana State Fair Day Four by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 3 - 2011 edition

2011-08-07T14:32:00.000-04:00

Read all about Day Three by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 2 - 2011 edition

2011-08-06T14:31:00.000-04:00

Indiana State Fair Day Two. Click here to read all about it.

Indiana State Fair day 1 - 2011 edition

2011-08-05T14:12:00.000-04:00

I almost broke my streak of going to the Indiana State Fair every day on the first day.

Read all about by clicking here.

where's nora?

2011-08-04T14:11:00.000-04:00

I always feel super guilty when I've neglected this blog.

I turned 50 in May. It's not so bad really.

I've been working on the Farm to Fair project that will be exhibited during the Indiana State Fair from August 4-21.

Work at Second Helpings is good and busy.

And I've been kind of, sort of hanging out with a guy. Too early to talk about, but I came home the other day and he'd mowed my grass in the 100 degree heat. How sexy is that?

nora at forty-six

2011-05-01T14:17:00.001-04:00

For the last ten years or so, I got my picture taken with Russel on my birthday. I continued to age and he always looked the same.

I missed that on my last birthday. As you may be able to tell, I'm big on the traditions. The quirkier the better. I used to smoke two cigarettes a year, but now I'm down to one. I love to take a couple puffs off of one of my cousins cigarettes on National Smoke Out Day -- just to be contrary.

The other cigarette was on Fat Tuesday and Russel would light it with his old silver Zippo lighter, I would take an awkward puff and Russ would just shake his head and we would both laugh.

I'm trying not to mourn the loss of old traditions, but I was really looking forward to getting by picture taken with Russ when I turned 50.

nora at thirty-nine

2011-04-30T12:59:00.042-04:00

Dad and Nora

I really loved this summer. I was working at the coffeehouse and had a great schedule. I'd work from 6:00 in the morning until 2:00-ish and actually had two days off a week.

Dad's cousin, Rosemary was moving to town from her childhood home and the farm was filled with generations of stuff. Dad and I would travel the hour or so to Cass County a couple of times a week to help sort.

I loved hearing the family stories as we sorted through balls of twine and wood and baby food jars of nails and screws. Dad and I rescued an old dresser that chickens had roosted in and was missing parts of wood -- it is now a beautiful piece in my bedroom.

Rosemary let me pour through old albums and several of the photos you've seen here are from her. I loved spending the afternoon with Dad and Rosemary during the day, meeting my boyfriend in the evening and working at the coffeehouse in the morning. Good days, good days - despite the photographic evidence that I wore white socks with black shoes and shorts (sorry Cliff). At least once, anyway.

nora at twenty-two

2011-04-29T14:20:00.003-04:00

Ann Herr and Nora

Ann's husband and my college boyfriend were boyhood friends and another one of their friends got married in Iowa. Got it?

The trip was fun and I really remember the feeling that washed over me that weekend -- that Ann and I were lifelong friends and always would be. It felt like a new grown-up phase -- a new level of best-friendness.

I loved that pink dress, but I remember people teasing me about it. It was appropriate for the late 80s, but not so much in our buttoned up preppy crowd. I've allowed myself one plastic tub of nostalgic clothes, and that dress is in there.

nora at nineteen

2011-04-28T22:18:00.076-04:00

In full Benihana garb.

I started working in a nursing home when I was 16 years old - Ann Herr and I were nurse's aides. I worked as an aide in various hospitals and nursing homes for the rest of high school and during summers in college.

After three semesters at Purdue it was painfully clear that I was a horrible student and just not ready for college. I moved back home and joined my friend Kassie in working at the Japanese steakhouse, Benihana. I was a hostess and Kassie was the bookkeeper.

Benihana was my first-ever hospitality job and it didn't take me long to realize that I was smitten with the industry and it felt natural and at home. You can tell two things by my giant smile - I'd just gotten my braces off and I loved my job.

I adored wearing the kimono, it was just beautiful. I learned a smattering of Japanese - mostly how to say, "I don't understand," and to count. Most of the chefs arrived straight from Japan so Kassie and I did everything from helping the guys find apartments to Kassie cutting hair by the dumpster.

If you've ever been to a Japanese steakhouse you know that the chefs are also big on showmanship. Twirling salt shakers and knives and flipping shrimp tales into shirt pockets. I still giggle when I think about Kassie teaching one of the new chefs that the proper way to greet new tables was: I want to feed your fingertips to the wolverines. Can you imagine the terrified customers if he would have delivered that line?

I worked at Behihana in various capacities for two and a half years. Those were fun and carefree days, even though I was taking classes at a community college and working part time in a nursing home. That was defiantly my feeling my oats era.

nora at thirty-two

2011-04-27T02:04:00.003-04:00

Mr. Herr got off the combine long enough to say hello.

If you want to visit with a farmer on a good weather day during harvest, your timing better be good. You can either wait at the end of a row and jump on the combine for a lap around the field or stand by the wagon where the farmer will eventually stop to empty the grain from the combine's hopper.

Option one is fun, mostly because you get to ride on a combine, but not very good for conversation. Harvesting takes concentration. And you're picking corn it's important to stay within the rows that were hopefully planted straight in the spring.

I like the wagon scenario. It is noisy - the auger is running and the grain hitting the wagon is loud. But generally the farmer is happy to be stretching their legs and once the grain is in the wagon it is that much closer to being money in the bank. It's hard to be in a bad mood when the equipment is working and the sweet sound of grain hitting the wagon is background to your conversation.

Annie and Ben (Ann and Jerry's son, and my Godson) and I waited for Mr. Herr to unload. It was a fun sun-shiny day October day in Indiana and good to be home.

I can't believe that it has been three years this month since Mr. Herr died -- click here to read all about him.

The proof is in the photo, but I would have sworn that I never owned, let alone wore a long sleeved pocket tee shirt and pleated pants, let alone khaki ones. And tennis shoes. Yikkes.

I wrote on the back of the photograph:
October 1993
Sam Herr/Nora Spitznogle
Boone County, Indiana
from Ann Herr Mitchell
Christmas 1993

nora at eleven

2011-04-26T08:43:00.002-04:00

Betcha didn't know I was a cheerleader? Yes, sir. Fifth grade.

Here's the proof. I'm in the bottom right corner and Annie Herr is in the top left. Do you like our fancy uniforms (culled from the racks of J.C. Penney's at Lafayette Square Mall)?

GO Perry Worth whatever-the-heck-our-mascot was!

In looking through old photographs I found a packet of old report cards. Decent grades in first, second and third grade. And, shockingly enough, to me at least, I was a horrible student in fourth and fifth! All Cs and Ds.

When I asked Mom about it she said that they just cared if I was nice. That explains the A in Citizenship. And why a D was acceptable in spelling.

When cheerleading tryouts came around I decided to try, even though I couldn't do a cartwheel to save my life. All of the other girls tried out in groups or at least pairs. I couldn't find anyone to tryout with, but Mom convinced me to give it a shot anyway.

Dad taught me a cheer from his stint as a high school cheerleader.

B.E.A.T. Beat 'em.
B.U.S.T. Bust 'em.
Beat 'em, bust 'em
That's our custom.
GOOOOO TEAM!!!!

I delivered this 1950s cheer on one shaky knee, in a squeaky voice.

I was terrified, but the only thing that scared me more than a multi-purpose room full of my peers was telling Mom and Dad that I didn't go through with the tryouts.

Pity votes carried me to victory.

I don't remember much about the actual cheerleading stint, except that my usual duty was to kneel in front of the group on one knee with my arm straight up and my index finger pointing out a number one.

Very appropriately, my parents wouldn't let me wear makeup or shave my legs. Mom did buy me some shiny lip gloss. Ann didn't get to wear makeup either.

And that was the end of my cheerleading career.

B.E.A.T. Beat 'em.

B.U.S.T. Bust 'em.

Beat 'em, bust 'em

That's our custom.

GOOOOO TEAM!!!!

nora at thirty

2011-04-25T06:50:00.001-04:00

While we're on the subject of ice skating, this was taken at Rockefeller Center in New York Center in 1991. Dad skated too, and took this photo.

I was working in Philadelphia at the time. Dad and his sister, Lucille came for a visit. We had fun touring Philadelphia and checking out the fancy department store displays and historic sites. One morning we took the train to NYC and jammed in a whole bunch of fun. My friend Marty, joined us and treated us to lunch at the brand new Planet Hollywood.

As restaurant people we tend to order a bunch of stuff to try. I think we ordered every appetizer on the menu, including calamari and passed it around the table. On the train ride on the way home, Aunt Lucille commented that the "onion rings" were the best she'd ever had. I didn't have the heart to tell her that she'd just eaten squid.

nora at fourteen

2011-04-24T12:07:00.005-04:00

Even though this photo is in bad shape I have it framed and love passing by it each day.

It was taken through the window at Grandma Leona's house, December 26, 1975. I'd gotten ice skates for Christmas that year and the sidewalks at Grandma's were icy enough for me to clomp along.

The living room was full of the people that I loved the most - Mom, Grandma, Aunt Rita and my siblings. I was feeling stylish in my fancy embroidered coat, I'd just learned to knot the scarf I'd also gotten for Christmas and Grandma had tied her chiffon scarf around my head.

When I was outside I pretended like I was on stage performing for the audience inside. I remember been happy as can be and feeling loved and smart and beautiful.

Aunt Rita wrote on the back of the photo:
Christmas, 1975
Nora Spitznogle
outside the window
at Grandma Leona's

nora at six months

2011-04-23T11:58:00.001-04:00

I'm just guessing about my age here - and to be honest, I'm just assuming it's me. There is nothing written on the back. It's another one from Great-Aunt Mamie's collection.

I love this photo because it is in Grandma Leona's kitchen. I can't remember ever having a bad time in that kitchen. I loved the smell of coffee and bacon and the sound of the local station coming through the radio. And best of all, standing as close to Grandma and telling her every little thought that popped into my head, knowing that I was loved unconditionally.

Grandpa Don's rocker was not far from the bouncy street. I'm sitting on it now as I type on my laptop. Who could have imagined such a thing in 1961?

nora at eight

2011-04-23T11:29:00.001-04:00

This snapshot has been well-circulated. Mom enclosed it in Christmas cards that year. This one came from one of Great-Aunt Mamie's albums.

It was taken in 1969, our first year in the new house - which is now what us kids consider home. The mantle is cut from the walnut tree that had to be cut down for the house. I think that at least two of the things on the mantle are still there.

I've always adored Beth's stripped dress. J.R. is sporting some serious boots. I'm wearing the classic white shirt, jumper and knee socks that was popular among the eight year-old set in the late 60s. Sailor suit Annie is sitting her little chair that now belongs to the twins.

Mom wrote on the back of the photograph:
Beth (7 - December 31) roasting hot dogs
J.R. (5)
Nora (8)
Ann (2)

nora at thirty-one

2011-04-21T21:44:00.003-04:00

I remember this night clearly. That is the old Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia in the background. The Phillies played the Chicago Cubs - you can read the box score and game rundown by clicking here. Sister Beth and her then-boyfriend and now-husband Ron were in town for the series. Ron is a life-long Cubs fan - in fact he's named after Cub's great Ron Santo.

The game was awesome - not only did the Phillies win - which was sayin' something, they were worst in their division that year, but the game was chockfull of interesting players.

The Cubs had Ryne Sandberg, Luis Salazar and Heathcliff Slocumb. The Phillies had Terry Mulholland, Micky Morandini, Darren Dalton and my favorite, John Kruk.

I've had several closer-to God moments in baseball parks. That night was one of them. Baseball and family. That beer in my hand had nothing to do with the feeling. Swear.

[on a side note, that was one of my favorite dresses. ever. I wonder what happened to it...]

I wrote on the back of the photograph:
Nora Spitznogle
31 y.o.
9.23.92
Vet Stadium
Philadelphia PA

nora at five

2011-04-20T16:42:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure where this photograph was taken. And yes, I'm eating a sandwich. I wish I could tell what J.R. was holding. I rocked a pixie hair cut for most of my childhood, so it is fun to see my little self with longer hair.

I found this in a photograph album that Dad's cousin, Rosemary let me take photos from. The album belonged to my Great-Aunt Mamie (Grandma Nora's sister). Aunt Mamie was lovely. She was a tiny woman -- I have a couple of her great coats from the 1920's. I assume they must have been long on her, or maybe she was taller as a young woman.

She kept albums full of photographs - one was filled with each cousin's graduation photo. Another of baby pictures and others with pictures like this.

Mom's writing on the back: Nora -5, Beth - 4 on New Years Eve, John - 3 in February.

I forgot there was ever a time that J.R. was called John.

nora at four

2011-04-19T16:23:00.003-04:00

Since I will be 50 years old in exactly one month, I thought I'd drag out some old photographs. My baby book got soaked in a basement flood at the Farm several years ago, but a few photos survived.

I love this picture from 1965. I wish I still had this dress - in a bigger version, of course. I wonder what I was eating - it looks like at must have been a treat that we didn't get very often.

This birthday is one of my earliest memories. I think this is the year that I got a swing set for my birthday. We lived in a sweet little house on a hill near Zionsville. I don't remember much about the house, but I do remember spending time in that kitchen. I remember the yard the best - plenty of room to run around and play. You felt like king of the world on the top of that hill.

I can't imagine how Mom was keeping it all together - Beth would have been almost two and a half and J.R. just fifteen months. The fact that I'm in a pretty dress and there are fancy paper party cups is more than I could have pulled off.

My favorite part of the photo is Grandma Leona's writing on the back: Nora's birthday 1965. Isn't she precious?

i can see clearly now....for a whole year

2011-04-13T23:45:00.002-04:00

I've worn glasses for exactly a year now.

I was afraid that I'd never adjust to them. I thought it was going to be a big crazy deal and that I'd either lose them with alarming regularity or run them through the washing machine or smash them.

And I really like being about to see.

I only misplaced them once and they were on the top of my head.

Of course, I just jinxed myself.

Better order the replacement pair now.

radioactive spider bite

2011-03-17T00:37:00.001-04:00

These way-cute rain boots were a Christmas gift from a friend.

They were parked on my porch for two months waiting for a rainy day that didn't also include ice.

I was pretty excited to wear them for the first time a few Mondays ago, they made the rainy day a little brighter. I snapped this photograph right after I put them on for the first time.

About five minutes from work, I felt something bite one of my left toes.

I drive a standard transmission which means that in order to stop I need to use both feet. One on the clutch and the other on the brake pedal.

I had to wait until I could pull into the parking lot to peel off the boot and claw at my foot.

My toe had a little hole in it, itched like hell and was turning red. I downed two Benedryl - incidentally I had a very productive day.

I sort of thought it was all over, but by Thursday I was sitting in the doctor's office.

Nothing ten days of antibiotics can't fix.

Stupid spiders.

I still love the boots.

grrrrrr

2011-03-14T15:57:00.002-04:00

I’m wrestling an 81 year-old house in to the digital age.

And we’re both dragging our feet.

Even though it’s called ‘wireless,’ it requires wires. And drilling through brick and plaster – and woodwork, unfortunately.

I’ve been paying for internet access for years, but the wiring and controls were on the other side of the house (I own a double and live on one side and rent the other) and I wanted to move them for a couple of reasons. I hated that if something was wrong I had to ask my tenant to deal with it or go to her house to fix it. Of course, it also felt a little shady to have to bill go to one address and the access go to the other.

Last Saturday was a crappy weather day. It is waffling between big fat raindrops and big fat sleet. The technician and I walked around the house discussing our options. They both involved drilling. His idea was to drill through the floor of the other side of the house, run the wire under the floor, drill through the cinder block wall dividing the basements and then drill through my floor. My idea was to run the wire around the outside of the house and drill into my wall. One drill hole, verses three. And I figured that plaster is easier to patch then replacing the wood trim.

He promised that he would drill through the plaster and not the wood trim. I even offered to take the storm window out so that I could hold a yardstick out to show him the spot. Nope, he had it.

His first attempt hit the edge of the wood and cracked it! I was yelling, “STOP!” through the window. He came in to check it and went back out and drilled LOWER – through the woodwork. I thought I was going to punch him.

But I’m a wuss.

And at this point the damage was done. What good would being angry do? He was a subcontractor for the giant cable company, so I knew that my chance of any reparation was slim. And it was my idea...and I got to pay $49 for the pleasure of having two holes in the brick and the woodwork.

I wonder -- at what point do I stop putting up with things being ‘good enough?’ I don’t let myself off the hook that easily, why do I let others slide?

In the meantime, I’ll drown my sorrows in a rousing game of on-line Scrabble.

feet frequency fail

2011-03-13T23:21:00.012-04:00

It tried, I really tried.

I had a grand and ambitious plan for 2011. I blame this guy - Doug W. ran every single day in 2011. And if that's not crazy enough, he blogged about it too. Every single day. Jerk.

I thought I could do the same thing in 2011. Not the running part - don't be ridiculous, the writing. Couldn't be that hard, right?

I had the idea that I would take a photograph of my feet that day and blog about something that happened along the way.

The photo above, of Doug and I was snapped on December 31st, after his last run of the year. I had a head full of good intentions and a belly full of stew and Guinness that afternoon.

I did pretty well the first two weeks. My parameters were that I had to take the photo that day and at least start the blog post.

That part was easy. Finishing the posts in a timely manner was not. Some days were just to frantic and busy. Or boring. Or sad. Or in some cases all four. I was missing out on some good stuff for lack of time and throwing up some junk just to check it off. I can't tell you the number of times in the last twelve weeks that I've fallen asleep with the open computer on my lap and jerked awake with the idea that I was failing.

I'm throwing in the towel on the blogging every day scheme. I just can't do it, and the myriad of other things in my life. There are several blog posts that were waiting for me to fill in the days between. I'll post them now, gap days be damned.

Starting now, I'll blog when I can, most likely with a foot photo.

Thanks for swinging by....

xoxox,
N.

baking

2011-02-08T23:19:00.001-05:00

I baked tonight -- shortbread cookies for the Saint Valentine's Day party next week. I have a fancy mixer, but my kitchen is so small that it's a major production to even get the darn thing out. And then there is not enough space between the cabinets and counter top for the mixer to fit between, so I have to either hold the edge of it up prop it up with a complicated system of cutting boards and upside down bowls and pulleys, or haul it to the living room and use it on the coffee table.

Instead, I love pulling out the Pyrex bowls I've collected over the years from family members and cracking open my well-worn Joy of Cooking cookbook and baking in my ancient oven. This evening I didn't play a DVD in my laptop or turn on the radio or spin a record. I soaked in the sounds of the wooden spoon on the side of the bowl, the eggs cracking and the cookie cutter slicing though the dough and the old timer ticking.

I don't have many periods of quiet like that. It drove me slightly crazy. But I made myself do it. And it turned out well. As did the cookies. I've been buying Indiana produced butter and eggs, the results were delicious.

I typically give myself permission to eat the broken cookies, but that is not a Weight Watchers sanctioned activity.

What the heck, one won't hurt, right?

mail

2011-02-07T23:55:00.000-05:00

I got a package in the mail today. It was properly wrapped in brown paper and lots of tape.

The box inside was pretty swell too — a vintage clothing box, with a tag ostensibly signed by a friend's cat, that I watched this summer.

The box was chockful of vintage Saint Valentine's Day decorations.

Thoughtful, amazing and perfect.

icepolocypse 2011 day 6 - the super bowl edition

2011-02-06T23:47:00.004-05:00

These sensible boots are on some stylish woman at a swanky hotel opening. I couldn't stand the snow boots one more day, so I broke out my brown 1970s Frye boots.

The JW Marriott is Indianapolis' newest upscale hotel. It has changed Indianapolis' skyline — it is now the seventh tallest building in Indianapolis.

It has been fun to watch the construction from our seats at Victory Field during the baseballs games the last two seasons.

I'm not someone who likes building for the sake of building, but the new hotel fits into the skyline. The building has a gentle curve that mirrors the center of the town, Monument Circle.

I was invited by the opening by Risa, who was on the Bahamas trip last Super Bowl Sunday. It was almost like being in the Bahamas. With an ice storm and winter coats at a potato fork, which I still need to navigate walking up and down my driveway. The valet parking guys were kind enough to not point it out, although they had to wonder what the heck it was doing in the front seat.

You can see a photo of me and some swanky folks at the party by clicking here — we made the Talk of our Town section of the Indianapolis Star. Society folks at our finest!

I loved seeing everyone and drinking a fancy $10 pomegranate Cosmopolitan and pretending I was one of the swells.

I feel like the article calls for a Paul Harvey, 'rest of the story' explanation.

First of all, I worked at the Red Key last night and it was 4:30 in the morning before I was showered and in bed. Up at 9:00 for a meeting at church, then 10:30 Mass, followed by working at Marigold all day. Not to mention that the ice made everything from walking to driving difficult.

At half time of the game I started to head to the washroom but decided to go to the lobby to call Dad instead. I knew that he would enjoy hearing about the new hotel, all of the televisions, who I was hanging out with and the fancy drink.

Dad sounded a little odd and swore that he had not dipped into his homemade wine. I asked if he wanted me to drive out, and he did. Which he never does.

I thanked my hostess and joined my friends in the valet queue. I was concerned enough that I didn't take time to go to the restroom.

The drive to the farm from downtown took about 25 anxious minutes.

I drove straight back to the chicken house, now repurposed to his workshop. Dad was fine and working on restoring an old cider press that he remembers using as a child.

I was relieved that he was okay and slid back out the door to make the trek to the house and bathroom.

I crashed through layers of ice and snow in my beautiful boots on the way to the house, falling twice. Trust me, falling in the freezing cold and struggling to stand up while having to pee is torture. Why did I leave the potato fork in the car?

I finally made it to the house. The laundry room door was iced shut — three inched of ice kept the door from moving. I skated cross-legged and fell up the step to the kitchen door. Same deal, iced shut.

Back to the work shop, more falling, more crashing through the ice-crusted snow, to burst into through the door.

N: [hopping from foot to foot] Dad! How do you get into the house?

D: [looking at me like I was nuts] What do you mean?

N: [exasperated] How are you getting into the house?

D: I use the ski pole.

N: [shouting] What?

D: The ski pole I found in the ditch.

N: [with tears of frustration] How. Are. You. Opening. The. Door. To. Get. In. The. House?

D: I wonder how a ski pole got in the ditch. It's amazing what I find out there.

N: [screaming] Dad! I NEED to get in the house.

D: The doors are frozen.

N: Yes! Have you been living in the workshop this week?

D: [looking at me like I'd said the most ridiculous thing ever] I go through the garage.

N: [so relieved I almost wet my pants] How do you get in?

D: Through the garage.

N: How. Do. You. Open. The. Garage. Door?

D: I push the button.

N: What button.

D: I think it says 'enter.'

I crashed back out the door, this time following the path of the driveway, and using by best ice-skating techniques made it to the garage door. I flipped open the key pad (things are getting modern at the farm) and jabbed 'enter' with my mittened finger as hard as I could.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Arrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhh.

Remember that bad word that Ralphie said in A Christmas Story, when he was helping his dad change the tire?

That was my mantra all the way back to the work shop.

N: Dad! I couldn't get the garage door open!

D: Did I tell you there was a code?

N. Nooooooo....what is it?

D: I haven't told you the code before?

N: I don't know....can I have it now?

D: It's ****. Do you want the ski pole?

N: I'll be back.

This time I took a different route. To the back of the cow barn.

All of the practice of going to the bathroom outdoors in my farm-girl childhood paid off. The added layers of clothes and coat and sub-zero weather added to the fun. I did it. And didn't get any on my boots.

And that is the rest of the story: from the society page to peeing behind a barn.

Ain't life glamorous?

Dad and the damn ski pole.

icepolocypse 2011 day 5

2011-02-05T11:23:00.004-05:00

It was very important that I get the car unstuck today. Because it was very important that I be sitting in this chair, reading a magazine and getting my hair cut (and let's be honest, some color too).

At first I thought I could walk to the appointment. It was only a mile away, a mere ten blocks. Ha! Not on this ice. Not even with the potato fork.

Friends to the rescue! As much as I like to think I can do everything myself, pushing the car out is a team effort.

Don used a pick axe around my tires. I tried not to micro-manage, but an axe, near my tires. Really? Trust, it's all about trust.

Scott shoveled and pushed.

I might have given this helpful message the finger.

In the end, we freed the car. Don drove and I joined Scott pushing and it popped right out. I was able to guide the car down the icy hill without hitting the vehicle parked on the street across from the driveway.

And I got a kick-ass new haircut.

icepolocypse 2011 day 4

2011-02-04T09:11:00.001-05:00

Christos and Nora

Are you getting tired of seeing the snow boots? I know that I am tired of wearing them.

Another day, another precarious trip down the driveway with the help of the potato fork and hitching another ride to work (thanks Kipp!).

Work was a little more 'normal' — maybe 'typical,' is a better word. School is still canceled. The three inches of ice on the sidewalks and parking lots makes it too dangerous to send the kids out. Although at this point I think I could come up with thousands of parents to hack away at the school entrances.

Today is the first Friday of the month, and there is a city-wide First Friday initiative to celebrate the arts. Most galleries are open and new work is unveiled. My friend, Christos Koutsouras, is in town for his show at the Indianapolis Museum of Contemporary Art. I had been looking forward to it for weeks and intended to go - ice be damned.

My friend Jake fetched me, and the potato fork from work to go to the show. It was Jake's first visit-ever to an art gallery and I was happy to share it with him.

Christos and Jake

Christos work was on two floors of the building and included an installation piece (which basically means that you build something on site, just for the show).

I wish I would have leaned the potato fork against the piece - it already reminded me of a corn crib. If you looked though the slats you could peep at some amazing drawings and studies Christos' has created.

It was also the first art opening for the twins. The girl is the perfect height to see the art.

inside the piece

The boy twin.

The show was great - on the second floor was some of his earlier work. I also enjoyed seeing Christos in his element. Although I suspect that everywhere is his element.

When he lived in town there was a period that we spent some time together. As you might guess, I tend to be pretty jumpy as a rule- always worried if I am doing the right thing. Christos really worked on teaching me to be present in the moment - and not worry what everyone else is doing.

He's also very confident and I admire that, but is happy to laugh at himself too. He's one of those guys that in the course of saying hello winds up with his hand on your ass, and somehow you don't care - and moreover, it doesn't seem offensive. I'm not sure I can explain it.

The show - and his painting of the sea was a nice respite from the ice.

icepolocypse 2011 day 3

2011-02-03T18:51:00.000-05:00

Back to work today.

Folks need to eat.

My car is still stuck as stuck can be.

Thankfully neighbor Kipp gave me a ride to work. He picked me up at 7:30 after chipping the ice off of his truck. On the way in I commented that I couldn't believe that school was called off again, which he hadn't heard. And it meant that his office was closed too. Whoops!

The potato fork is coming in handy. I'm not sure I could walk down the hill of my icy driveway without it. Lots of salt and chipping and an hours work cleared one of the doors to Second Helpings.

We told the volunteers to stay home, but some came anyway — which was great, the staff worked in the kitchen and helped deliver the meals.

I sorted bread and desserts. I love thinking about the folks we're serving — cupcakes to the kiddos and pies to the seniors.

Being hands-on today reminded me of the generosity of our donors and volunteers.

Life ain't bad.

Except for this damn ice.

icepolocypse 2011 day 2

2011-02-02T16:36:00.014-05:00

Uncle Cletus's potato fork came in handy today. It's pretty darn good at chipping off the ice.

And there is plenty of ice.

Another day of no work.

I spent hours clearing the ice off the car. And the damn thing won't budge.

Stuck as stuck can be.

icepolocypse 2011 day 1

2011-02-01T16:23:00.002-05:00

All of the dire weather predictions were right. The ice storm hit. Schools closed and almost every thing shut down.

I managed to fall down three times in my driveway - one of them hard enough to knock my hat and glasses off.

Once I pretended that I was ice skating, it was much easier.

Through the wonders of facebook, I read that Zest! was opening for lunch. I met up with neighbors Jamie and Sidney for a slide two blocks down the Monon Trail for a delightful lunch and fun.

Snow days aren't so bad!

storm warnings

2011-01-31T23:53:00.003-05:00

I'm not a panic - er.

Sometimes even when I should.

This morning's weather forecast made me jump out of bed and drive to Second Helpings with a head full of plans.

Ice, ice, baby.

I ain't afraid of any stinkin' snow, but ice scares the hell out of me. And there was a lot of it headed our way. I got a team of people together, we planned, scrambled and sent out two extra days of food to the shelters and agencies where people live. That's an extra 1610 meals that we prepared and delivered - in addition to the 2600 that we'd already delivered earlier today.

Click here to read a letter from the chairman of our board about our efforts.

These are the days that recharge my batteries. Get me juiced up.

I also needed to prepare for the possibility of power loss at home, so I prepared for the worst - I made sure my flashlights were charged, put new batteries in my head lamp.

And most importantly, I popped two days worth of popcorn.

You can't be too prepared.

lazy sunday

2011-01-30T18:52:00.019-05:00

There is still plenty of snow, if anyone wants any.

Today was a lazy day. No work, no deadlines.

Church, than back to bed.

I managed to rally long enough to go hear music and visit a new brewery downtown, Flat 12 Bierworks.

The very talented Tad Armstrong and Brian Deer were playing.

And I got a brewery tour.

It's nice to see how the other half spends Sunday.

bleck

2011-01-29T23:55:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of the snow.

I worked at the Red Key tonight. Which I always enjoy.

And I usually like taking out the trash.

Seriously.

But now the dumpster is halfway across the icy parking lot.

And locked.

With a big iron bar across the lid. When unlocked the bar only moves a few inches.

There are two choices. One is to hold the lid up with your head as you swing the heavy bag five feet up to get it in the dumpster. The second is to talk a hapless customer into going with you to help. Then you get to hold the lip up with your arms as the trash and bottles are hurled just inches from your face.

I'm not bitter.

Seriously.

hot rollers

2011-01-28T20:37:00.027-05:00

I joined an all-woman jug band and purchased hot rollers. Yep, that was pretty much the path from not owning a brush to buying rollers. And you know that this will lead to other purchases, like hairspray and sparkly eye stuff.

It's been fun to hang out with girly-girls who dress up and take the time to apply makeup and wear red lipstick.

Next thing you know, I'll be wearing a flower in my hair.

desk

2011-01-27T17:29:00.037-05:00

While I'm a charter member of the clean plate club, my work desk does not get the same distinction.

It's a combination of things. Most of my days tend to be one long interruption. I don't have the opportunity to file things or even stack them in to a neat pile before I get called away.

My desk also becomes a dumping spot of things that no one knows what to do with - toss it Nora's desk, she'll take care of it. I also have coworkers that are fond of printing out the e-mails that I sent them and giving them to me.

I've come to terms with the fact that I can't keep a clean desk, yet I'm very methodical with projects. It might look like hell in production, but the finished product is always stellar.

While I don't fancy myself as an Albert Einstein, I love what he had to say about desks:

If a cluttered desk signs a cluttered mind, Of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?

So there!

When I'm done with a project, I tend to put it on the floor so when I get up I can take it to the proper place.

Today I've gotten a ton of paperwork done.

You can tell by the floor.

super!

2011-01-26T20:43:00.000-05:00

There is a big old football game coming to Indianapolis next year. And it will take an army of volunteers to run it. I'm excited to be one of the volunteers and tonight was the first meeting of the environmental committee. Hopefully I'll get assigned to the sub-committee that work on rescuing food from the official events.

Super Bowl XLVI - Indianapolis.

Fingers crossed that the labor dispute gets resolved.

how is it possible....

2011-01-25T22:38:00.003-05:00

...that I'm qualified to speak to a senior level college class?

And maybe I'm not - but I spent an hour and a half tonight with a class focusing on nonprofits. I've learned over the course of hundreds of speeches that I do better without too many notes. I have a five minute talk about Second Helpings that I can give at the drop of a hat. It's easy to expand on all of our great programs for a more in-depth view of our agency. And it gives me a chance to throw out my best food rescue jokes.

I was encouraged by the preparation and research the students had done and all of their great questions and the challenges to the way nonprofits are run. Before I started working for a nonprofit agency I had the thought in the back of my mind that nonprofits needed to be managed more like businesses. I've flipped that around, especially in this business climate - businesses could use the transparency of nonprofits. I am mindful that every decision I make and every dime I spend for Second Helpings needs to further our mission of feeding hungry people, training adults and rescuing food. I can't tell you how easy that makes the hard decisions.

On a side note, I was slightly distracted knowing that there were guys right outside the door playing Dungeons and Dragons - to further the stereotype, we were in the engineering building on campus. The Purdue (my alma mater) is the icing on the nerdiness cake.

surprise!

2011-01-24T22:33:00.058-05:00

My friend Kevin turns 30 this week and I was invited to his surprise party tonight.

I can't decide which freaks me out more - the fact that I'll be 50 this year or that I have such young friends. I always joke that I'm either terribly hip and cool or horribly immature. In my friendship with Kevin, it floats to the hip and cool side.

I wish I had it together at 30 as much as Kevin does. He's co-founder of Standard Recording Company, he serves a mean Jameson and water at Locals Only, is supportive of the music community and is a healthy relationship with a beautiful and smart-as-a-whip woman. What I find most compelling about Kevin is that he's genuinely kind.

I'm not sure that I ever shared this story with Kevin, but the first time I met him he called me "Ma'am," from the stage! I'd won a CD at the Standard Recording Party and when I went to collect he called me that dreaded word. I've let that go....almost.

I have about seven words that make me want to punch someone in the nose and that is one of them. Since I know you'll ask, the dreaded word list also includes: lady, puke, busted (in place of broken), butt* and others I can't mention in a PG13 blog.

Anyway, back to Kevin - he makes me proud to live in this town and know that a whole 'nother generation is concerned about making our community a better place to be. The fact that they include us old folks is a bonus.

*I think that 'ass' is a delightfully hilarious word.

fancy brunch

2011-01-23T13:23:00.000-05:00

Brother J.R. treated us to brunch at their club to celebrate Mom's birthday. I didn't know that I liked waffles so much. And sausage and birthday cake. Off the charts Weight Watchers points, I'm sure.

It was delightful to have a chance sit with family members and laugh and listen to my sweet niece tell silly jokes -- she's a girl after my own heart.

Mom's birthday was much fancier last year -- you can read the re-cap here.

Nap time!

work tamped down with more work

2011-01-22T23:53:00.003-05:00

Waitress station, Red Key
Pipe [bottom right] is a chute where returnable beer bottles used to travel to basement.
Trash can [top right] is my nemesis.*

Today was a busy day of work followed by work. I've been spoiled the last few weeks and have only worked one job on Saturdays. I've tried to be protective of my Saturday afternoons, but was happy to work at Second Helpings today.

We had some great volunteers come in and paint our training kitchen today. I couldn't paint my way out of a paper bag. I've lived in my house for over a dozen years and it has never once occurred to me to paint my walls.

Luckily, there were lots of people who did know what they were doing. I'm a damn good wet towel fetcher and spill wiper-upper. Everyone has a talent.

I raced home to clean the house. And by clean, I mean finally taking the wrapping paper to the basement and scooping the towels off of the bathroom floor. I didn't have time to ditch the vases of pine boughs or sweep or dust or put away the piles of Christmas gifts or cards. I'm ashamed to admit that I shoved some junk under the table - and it's not like you can't see under the table, but it made me feel better. Sort of like a play pen for piles of stuff.

I was doing the panic cleaning because NYC John was flying in at midnight and spending the night at my house before making the trek to his hometown. It's not like I haven't known it for days, I just thought the cleaning fairy might think it was a good time to show up.

No luck.

The Red Key was a little nuts, I got busy later in the evening, cooking right up until 10:00. Then the joint filled up with youngsters. The Red Key is doesn't serve pitchers or fancy shots so we don't get many people in their mid-twenties and early-thirties.

One of the youngsters wanted to fix me up with his dad. Who was there. That got awkward quick.

NYC John's timing was perfect. He walked in the door just as the dad was demanding my phone number. I'd admit that I didn't explain the big hug I gave John and handing him the key to my house to the group. I let everyone drawn their own conclusions.

Between youngsters, the late night, the lack of nap, the trash dumpster being across the icy parking lot and locked, I was good and grumpy by the time I got home.

A hot shower and catching up with an old friend was exactly what I needed to erase the furrow in my brow.

Life ain't so bad after all.

*that trash can is my nemesis because it has a swinging lid top and people love to stuff it to the gills. It's hard to get the bag out of and I typically have to wrestle it to the floor at 2:00 in the morning to empty it. It is bleached out the night before and there is usually bleach water at the bottom. I've ruined more skirts and pants and tee shirts because of that damn can than anything else in my 30 year restaurant career.
Sounds petty, but I'm allowed to hate one thing about my job, right?

tgif, sort of

2011-01-21T22:56:00.004-05:00

unexplained water on the woman's room floor

I think the winter doldrums have arrived. It's cold. It's gloomy. It's late January. I go to work in the dark and come home in the dark. Bleck.

That said, work is going really well -- all three of the jobs. I'm especially re-energized at the main gig.

But I really enjoyed mopping today. First of all the problem was not as dramatic as advertised; Nora, the bathroom is flooding and covered with six inches of water! That got me up from the lunch table in a hurry.

No flooding, I couldn't find the source of water, it was just one of those one-time mysterious crop circle-like dealies . The water was clear, instead of, well, you know. All and all, not bad. I've dealt with way worse.

And I enjoyed the process of mopping. I could see results — less water on the floor, more water in the bucket.

Mop, wring the mop, mop, wring the mop, mop.

Way more satisfying than that spreadsheet I'm working on.

morning radio

2011-01-20T22:30:00.004-05:00

My fancy new radio. And yes, those are Scrabble pajamas. What of it?

I struggle with routines. I worry that I will get too set in my almost-fifty years old ways. Then I worry that I don't have enough structure in my life. Clearly, I worry about worrying.

I have the structure of work and deadlines and putting gas in the car and paying bills and putting trash on the curb on the right day. But that's about it. Once I hit the door of my house there is not much I have to do. I can let the laundry pile up, have an empty refrigerator, let the water glasses collect next to my bed and watch episodes of Californication until 1:00 am.

Conversely, I can put my nose to the grindstone and write for hours or get involved in a book or binge clean and not worry about feeding anyone but the cat.

I do have a bit of a morning routine, besides brushing my teeth and taking my vitamins.

I listen to the radio.

As I putter around the house and get ready I carry it with me from shower to kitchen to getting dressed. I have two dear friends who are part of this morning show -- one as on-air talent and the other is the producer. Another friend books the guests and keeps the machine going. I love listening to the show, I feel like I'm getting to spend time with Kristi - and will occasionally talk back to the radio. Yes, I know she can't hear me.

The show is full of innuendo and sophomoric jokes and skits that make you groan or laugh so loud that you snort and scare the cat. I love every second of it. Sometimes I'll shoot Kristi a quick e-mail about something they are discussing. And sometimes she'll quote me on air, "my friend says blah blah," and I'll get so excited that I don't care that they guys invariably make fun of me.

Listening to the radio in the morning also reminds me of mornings at Grandma Leona's house. The radio was always on in the farm kitchen. The local station would report the weather, commodity prices and obituaries. I hung on every word, even though I was young and none of the information pertained to me. I just thought it was the coolest thing ever.

I didn't have a portable radio, well, ever, now that I think back. I missed the whole Walkman phase and never had a transistor radio.

When I really became friends with Kristi I bought a plastic shower radio. It had a giant plastic hook and I would carry around as I got ready, exchanging it for my keys as I walked out the door. Monday, as I was juggling bags of Tater Tots and coats to take to the farm I dropped it. And it flew into several non-duct tape-able pieces.

I can't believe how much I missed it Tuesday morning.

Do you know how hard it is to find a radio that is just a radio? It took me four stores to find one - I think I scared the kid behind the counter at Walgreens by my giggling at the cheapo radio. Now I have two things with an antenna, the radio and my television. It's like 1964 at my house.

All was right in my world this morning. I had another radio.

instinct stink

2011-01-19T21:44:00.000-05:00

"Style is primarily a matter of instinct." - Bill Blass, 1922-2002, designer.

Ironically that was the quote of the day on my page-a-day fashion calendar.

I usually feel pretty good about my outfits, even though most of you might consider my clothes a little quirky.

I wear a lot of black and vintage [fancy word for thrift store] boots and do things like layer necklaces and rings.

I have some clothes in my wardrobe that I don't often wear or especially like. I feel bad that I don't wear them so occasionally I'll try again.

Today was one of those days. Black corduroy, long jumper paired with over-the-knee socks and my patient leather Dansko shoes. I felt silly and awkward all day. And I had to keep hiking up those damn socks.

Add a vintage coat and my brief case and the ensemble had crazy written all over it.

Back to the clothes I know and love.

tuckered out

2011-01-18T22:59:00.004-05:00

Getting home at 1:30 in the morning from the MLK party, followed by an 8:00 finance meeting, followed by a long work day catching up from being off the day before led to this.

I can't tell you how delightful that hot bath was.

Mostly because I slept through it.

top ten day of the year

2011-01-17T23:07:00.000-05:00

Before the sled ride actually started.

Our dad has a big Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Fish Fry at the farm. You can read about the party in 2008 here and 2009's party here. We all know about my lack of blogging in 2010, so there is no post, but it was fun, trust me.

One of the things I like is the predictability of the day. Ann and I meet at the farm and roll out dough balls in the kitchen while Dad cuts fish. We all know what to do and where everything goes. We laugh at the same things and tell old stories. And Ann and I invariably have forgotten a Christmas gift that we've purchased throughout the year, so there is some unwrapping.

It was cold as could be this year - which I don't mind. My little food safety heart loves nature's freezer. And you just have to drink the beer quicker so it doesn't get too cold and explode. Common sense, really.

This year there was just the right amount of snow for a sleigh ride. We pulled Dad's refurbished 1840s sleigh the old fashioned way. With a John Deere B tractor.

For one trip I waved for my brother to stop so I could jump on to the sled behind the sleigh.

I learned a few things on the sled ride:
J.R. won't stop the tractor to let me on, but he will pull over for a dropped iPhone.

Brothers never outgrow the urge to get their sister to 'eat snow.' He was doing his best to dump me, much to the kids on the sleigh's delight.

I'm a heck of a lot tougher than I was in my younger days. In fact I'm not sure that little girl Nora would have been brave enough to even jump on the sled.

After

The most important lesson? Sledding in a dress is not the best idea.

This year was another great mix of family, friends, priests, neighbors and fried food. I think I ate my weight in Tater Tots.

My guess is that there were over 100 people that popped in over the course of the day. I know that I was in a hot Euchre game at midnight. And I was by far the youngest one at the table.

house concert - chad mills

2011-01-16T23:53:00.004-05:00

View from the best seat in the house - Chad Mills concert

Have you ever been to a house concert? It's just that - a concert in someone's house. I love them - everyone is there to listen - no bar chatter or blenders whirling drinks or freakishly tall people standing in front of the stage. And the musicians have time to tell stories and talk about their songs. I took Mom to see one of my favorite musicians, Chad Mills, play the Redbud House Concert Series tonight.

I'm a big fan of Chad's - not only do I think that he's a great songwriter and I've enjoyed seeing him grow and stretch his wings in the last five years, but Chad is an outstanding member of our music community. He plays early morning farmer's markets*, charity events and is generous with his time. But most importantly, he's committed to his beautiful wife and cute-as-a-button daughters. He seems to manage the balance of home, work and family.

Click here to hear "Meant To Be."

I've heard musicians say that they feel naked playing a house concert. There is no microphone or equipment or smoky haze to hide behind. As an audience member, I felt stripped down also - no notepad or camera or speaker to shield me from the music. And that is what makes house concerts so great, you really have a chance to connect with the words and music.

I encourage you to attend or host a concert. It's as easy as pie (ummm, pie). I wrote a cover article for NUVO about house concerts - you can read it here. If you're interested in hosting a house concert read my how-to guide here.

I'm mad at myself that I didn't think to shoot a video of one of Chad's other songs, but I didn't think of it until his final song of the night. .I'll leave you with the video I took of his last song, the title track and bar band anthem from his latest CD, Make the Door. You'll have to excuse my late start and my giggling at hearing his mom shout, "DRINK LIKE FISH!"

See you tomorrow!

* I asked Chad to fill in at the Broad Ripple Farmer's Market for last minute cancellation. Not only was the weather cold and rainy, but the Broad Ripple High School marching band was practicing just a few yards away.

saturday night

2011-01-15T23:59:00.065-05:00

view from the stage

I don't often go out after my Red Key shift any more. For one thing it's usually after 3:00 by the time we're done cleaning up and restocking. And I'm older and creakier.

My typical after work routine is to shower and start a load of laundry (you can still smoke in bars in Indianapolis). If I'm feeling spunky I might play a round or two of facebook Scrabble.

My co-worker Robin and I venture out every six months or so -- this was one of those nights. The Pawn Shop Pub was celebrating their fourth anniversary. Robin used to work there and the owners are friends of the Red Key.

We made it just in time for 'last call,' and met up with friends from yet another neighboring bar. We had great laughs and talked about music, Sanibel and being in 'the business.'

It seemed like a great idea at the time (the time being 3:00) to go check out the ring toss game at a friend's venue. I impressed the crowd by getting the ring to hook on my third toss.

That grand achievement sparked some buried bit of responsibility in my brain and I remembered that my column was due in just a few hours. I grabbed my laptop from the car, took advantage of the Wifi and sat on stage and wrote while the others continued the fun.

It's amazing how I got more written in that half an hour than I did the whole day. There is something to be said about the lack of distractions...

flummoxed fridays

2011-01-14T19:19:00.007-05:00

Casual Fridays confuse me.

Partly because my everyday work dress is not formal. My days are pretty unpredictable. Just this week I've done everything from shoveling snow to conducting job interviews....wait, that was all just yesterday!

Luckily, most Fridays we have guests or graduation or something that requires me to not "dress down."

Today is one of the days that I could have dressed more casually. And that confuses the Hell out of me. I usually even wear a skirt to waitress/cook in most Saturday nights.

My casual dress for today? Boots, scarf and black dress. Suspiciously close to what I wore yesterday - boots, scarf and black dress. Except that it took me three time as long to get dressed. I left a heap of jeans and sweaters and shoes on the floor.

Maybe I should add wearing jeans to my goals for 2011 list.

[meet the artist behind the Farm to Fair project: Douglas David]

band practice

2011-01-13T11:24:00.064-05:00

My typewriter case is starting to look more rock and roll.

Yay! We had band practice tonight, for real.

I sure do love hanging out with the Alice Chalmers woman (and their kiddos)!

It was another whirlwind Thursday. I worked late, followed by committee meeting for the neighborhood board and blowing in to rehearsal an hour after everyone else.

I kept time on the typewriter....and even Barley joined in:

The sweetest part of the night was watching Jude explain parts of her 1850s claw hammer banjo to the girl twin. Now the girl knows more than me about banjos.

Band practice nights are good for the soul.

farm to fair

2011-01-12T18:54:00.002-05:00

Nora and Doug

With all of the snow and freezing weather it is hard to imagine that it will ever be warm again, let alone August-hot.

I'm really looking forward to this summer because I get to work on a dream project. I get to write about Indiana agriculture and the Indiana State Fair for an exhibit that will run all seventeen days of the Fair!

I will be blogging about it here: Farm to Fair.

The wonderful artist, Douglas David and I were kicking around the Indiana State Fair last summer and I was struck by the different things we appreciated about the Fair. As an artist, Doug was drawn to the color and pageantry. As a writer and farm girl, I was interested in the people and the history.

I am very proud of my agricultural roots, but realize that we are almost 100 years past the time that most Hoosiers lived on farms. I don't want us to be so far removed from our food supply that we cannot connect the dots from a soybean to a corn dog.

The goal of the exhibit is to draw that line with paintings and words.

We were able to apply for a grant (more about that in a future post) and with the generous help of some State Fair folks we got the green light last month.

The whole thing still feels surreal to me: I get to write about the Indiana State Fair and food and farms? And get paid?

It's going to be a good year.

snow fun

2011-01-11T22:39:00.002-05:00

It's been a good day, in spite of all of the shoveling.

I promised myself that I would make a snow angel before the day was done.

It's good to have goals!

trophy

2011-01-10T23:56:00.004-05:00

I've been bowling in the Chatterbox league for a couple of years now. No one is more surprised than me.

Like most things, the idea to bowl started with a beer and conversation with new friends. It seemed like a really good idea at the time. And so far it has been. I've meet some great people and turned acquaintances in to friends.

I'm subbing again this round, which fits better in to my crazy schedule. I don't feel so guilty about the times that I can't be there.

This morning, in preparation for the new season I retrieved my bowling bag from where it had been shoved between the sofa and the bookcase for the last month. I unzipped the bag to discover a big wad of white socks. I took the time to toss the socks in the washer and grab a fresh pair. Which I left in the kitchen. I blame the cat.

I giggled as I purchased yet another $8.00 bag of socks this evening...I was wearing a beautiful $4.00 thrift store coat, but I wouldn't dream buying of second-hand socks.

I was thrilled to find that I'd won a trophy last round. I had to miss the bowling banquet last month, so I missed the official presentation.

The team I subbed for was brand new and they thought they were bowling with a bad-ass competitor - after all I traveled with a trophy.

It took just one roll to shatter that notion.

Here's to getting back into the Monday routine of hunting socks, laughing. high-fiving and blowing the day's Weight Watcher points on a slice of pizza and a beer.

bye colts, see you next year....

2011-01-09T20:15:00.003-05:00

I like sports but don't care so much for the fashions. Team jerseys don't look good on anyone but the actual players.

I do have a nice selection of foam fingers, they work with any outfit.

I've also learned that I get a lot of crap from the customers if I'm not wearing at least wearing the team colors when I waitress during a big game.

Since the Colts were playing in a must-win game I dressed as Peyton Manning.

Quarter on my back, quarterback, get it?

No one else did, either.

I tried.

nest

2011-01-08T16:40:00.002-05:00

A boyfriend once commented that I build a nest wherever I land. No argument from me. I've spend the day lounging and writing and napping and I've collected the cat, a popcorn bowl and a book in my wake.

I've made a conscious effort to keep Saturday afternoons to myself.

It is good for everyone - most of all the Red Key customers - if I can get a nap in before my shift. Saturdays are long nights - if I'm lucky I'll be showered and tucked into bed by 4:00 am.

I'm also practicing not being so accessible, just because the phone rings doesn't mean I need to answer it.

Or if someone is pounding on my door I don't need to jump up. Not if I'm still in my jammies and haven't brushed my hair. Hopefully I didn't miss Mr. Right or a sweepstakes notification.

Most likely it was the dude who mows my lawn looking for a 'loan.'

the best laid plans....

2011-01-07T10:18:00.005-05:00

typewriter, 49th and Broadway

I'd been looking forward to Thursday - I'd spent three nights in a row at home (gasp!) and had a full evening planned - in fact I was joking earlier that 'Thursdays were the new Saturdays. Everything seems to fall on Thursday...

6:30 - band practice
8:30 - Danny Flanigan and John Byrne playing at the Corner Wine Bar
10:00 - Hotfox playing at the Melody Inn.

And since I'd planned no wiggle room things started to fall apart before they even started.

I didn't leave work until 6:15 and the roads were slick and I've driven like an old lady since I was 12 so I didn't get home until almost 7:00. I tossed some food toward the cat, grabbed my typewriter and some pastries and ran out the door, forgoing changing into something cute.

I drove to practice and juggled the typewriter, baked goods, my camera and a diet Pepsi as I walked toward the house - as Dad would say, this was a classic lazy man's load. I was thinking that I should set something down and come back.

I kept walking.

And the inevitable happened.

The case popped open and the typewriter bounced off of my foot and into the intersection.

I scooped everything back up - thank goodness the pastries survived - and burst through Cara's front door - arms loaded, red faced and full of apologies.

Which shocked the heck out of Cara, since it was not band practice night.

I left the baked goods as a peace offering and went to Plan B - joining up with the Girls Night Out dinner that I thought I couldn't attend. I missed the dinner part, but it was good to join the conversation and laugh and talk about boys and the future.

The party moved to the bar to finish our drinks. I like most music and even if I don't, I appreciate that folks have enough guts to get up and play. I do have a few musical prejudices - I take an immediate dislike to any guitar player wearing a tie-dye shirt. And the duo was was playing to a prerecorded sound track, which is just weird and wrong. I had a headache and furrowed brow by the time I got out of there.

And I was late for seeing Danny and John. I got there just as they were done. Boo.

Since I was 0 - 2 for my plans, I sent a text to a member of the next band before I drove to the venue. Sure enough, they'd canceled their set. I had a slight freak-out when I realized that I was texting with a 19 year-old college freshman. The fact that I'm older than his mom didn't help.

I ended the evening by wandering through yet another grocery store looking for cranberries. I forgot to do my annual stock up. No luck on finding those either.

Boy is my timing off...

wrap up the wrappings

2011-01-06T16:42:00.001-05:00

It's probably time to get the wrapping paper off of the dining room floor. I've gotten more organized. Really. Note the plastic tub with lid that the paper is stored in. And it's holiday stuff only - there is a separate tub for other wrapping - as I learned from Kim, "like things with like things!"

But it's still in the middle of the dining room floor, with a straight shot to the front door. Even though all guests were told: don't mind that pile, just pretend like the dining room doesn't exist or LOOK! A BABY WOLF! ! - they still looked. How could you not? Even the prettily wrapped gifts had no where to go besides the floor.

Wouldn't it be great to have a dedicated wrapping area in the house? On second thought, maybe I should wish for more counter space or another closet. Or a room that I could shut the door to other than my bedroom.

Or maybe I could get a well-timed baby wolf to run thought the house...

nyc

2011-01-05T06:21:00.003-05:00

My feet: ice skating at Rockefeller Center, December 9, 2010

I got to spend a whole day in New York City last month!

Beth took this great photograph

The short story is that we have a family friend who is a pilot and had use of his company plane for the day. Dad gathered a group that included a priest, his sister and niece and my sister, Beth and my friend, Novella.

Beth got to ride in the co-pilots seat on the way there.

Here is the route...it only took us a little over two hours to get there.

Flying on a private plane rocks - no security check or scanning. I could have taken gallons of liquids if I liked...I didn't, there is not a potty aboard. We did have homemade cookies and other goodies.

Russ helping Dad exit the plane.

We landed at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey and took a shuttle van to Rockefeller Center. Beth, Novella and I opted to walk and window shop (and shop shop) while the others had lunch.

Saint Patrick's Cathedral

Like good little children of God, we wound up at Mass at Saint Patrick's Cathedra l. As Beth pointed out, they were saying Mass on a continuous loop - one ended and another started. Like a not-so good child of God I took advantage of the electrical outlet by the font of Holy Water to charge my iPhone.

We browsed museum shops and actually visited one. The American Folk Art Museum was lovely. We saw quilts and an exhibition of work by Eugene Von Bruenchenhein. Eugene was a quirky guy - Outsider Artist is probably the proper art term. The collection highlighted his poetry, pinup style photographs of his wife, ceramics and miniatures build of guided turkey bones. I'm sorry that I didn't take more photographs but I was too busy clutching the walls trying to not freak-out by the layout of the museum - my fear of heights was kicking in big time.

The museum had a wonderful cafe - it was fun to have a fancy lunch - chicken salad and diet Pepsi in a wine glass in the beautiful space without worrying about rushing back to work or anything. The exhibitions were great, but it was worth the price of admission for a warm restroom and the coat check.

We bundled back out into the cold and headed back to Rockefeller Center. Ice skating was at the tops of my list for the day.

Nora and Novella on the ice

I'm proud to report that we skated for half an hour and did not fall once. Click on the video at the top of his post for some exciting skating action.

We followed the skating with cocktails in a swanky bar and dinner at a lovely Italian bistro and window shopping.

Through the wonders of facebook, I knew that there was a fundraiser for soup kitchen/homeless services at NYC John's church on the Lower East Side that evening. I sent him a text that morning saying that we were in town and planning on attending the event. I asked if I could help with any errands and was delighted that he had a project for us.

We met him in the lobby of the NBC Studios, where he had just finished his work with Jimmy Fallon. That was the day Paul McCartney was on the show. I got to shake the hand of the hand that shook Sir Paul's hand. Click here for a clip of Paul from that day.

John loaded us down with raffle prizes for the fundraiser and shepherded us on to the subway. He kindly bought our tickets and led the way through the tunnels.

John getting us through the turnstile.

Dad reaction to entering the subway for the first time: This is where it all ends! I'm sure a few commuters thought the same about us when we burst into the subway car with hats with flaps and boots and armloads of raffle prizes.

The fundraiser was in a bar not far from the church. Dad was making friends and I was meeting folks - the minister of the church is from Indiana as was another guy that I met. I was grabbing a card from my bag in the coat check when I noticed that Dad had his coat on and was heading out the door. I grabbed him and asked where he was headed...."taking a taxi to Times Square."

Whoa! Hold up papa!

I plucked the drinks from Beth and Novella's hands, bid a quick good-bye to John and we piled out the door.

It was fun to kick around Times Square pop in to shops and walk under the bright lights.

We had a slight panic when we got separated for a bit back at the meeting place, but Dad was finally able to convince someone to use their cell phone to call us.

Now who wouldn't let that charming man use their phone?

Since we weren't on a commercial flight, it didn't matter what time we left - it was after midnight by the time we were "wheels up."

I sat in the co-pilots seat on the way home. I tried my darnedest to stay awake, but I just couldn't do it. In fact I got a good elbow to the ribs at one point. My guess is that I was either snoring in to the pilots headphones or ready to fall into the steering mechanism.

All and all it was an amazing day. If I've need a boost in the last few weeks, I just play the video of my feet ice skating - guaranteed to make me giggle!

celebrity santa

2011-01-04T07:26:00.006-05:00

Santa Nora, December 22, 2010

I don't consider that I'm a celebrity in any way shape or form. But I was for Birdy's annual Christmas party.

I found out when I walked in the door and was handed a shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey and the suit.

I suspect that I was chosen because this guy didn't show up....

2009

I wasn't prepared for the task. In retrospect, I should have done the shot - you need a little courage to get your photo taken with with a bunch of folks that have possibly had a cocktail or two.....

Can you believe that someone asked if Santa wanted to hang out by the dumpster and get high? I guess that explains why Santa eats so many cookies when he makes his rounds...

cousins

2011-01-03T07:05:00.006-05:00

I'm related to all of these beautiful feet

I jokingly asked on facebook yesterday if watching CBS Morning Show counted as going to church. I knew that my closer-to-God moment was not far away - it was Spitznogle Christmas party day!

I just love my cousins to pieces, but back in my younger days I was a little scared of them.

Keep in mind that I was a wussy kid. And that we have 39 first-cousins on the Spitznogle side and I was in the younger end of the group - our dad is the youngest of his nine siblings, so I have cousins closer to Dad's age than mine. A good chunk of those cousins lived in the same county, attended the same schools and church so they all knew each other and were close. And I as I said, I was a wuss.

Now I can sort out all of our generation and most of the next - facebook has been great for keeping in touch and sharing photographs.

There was a table full of family photographs for the taking. I got some great ones - Grandma Nora and Grandpa Paul's wedding, photos of Dad as a child and of my siblings.

AVS, Uncle Cletus, Nora (late 1999-ish, I'm guessin')

Although I would have sworn that I'd never brought a date to a family party, there was plenty of photographic evidence that I had. And who let me have that hair cut?

Seeing everyone was good for my soul, if not for my diet (lots of yummy food!) and a great way to start the new year.

See you tomorrow -
N.

cranberries

2011-01-02T08:53:00.005-05:00

I love this time of year - cranberries are readily available. I have an unnatural affection for them. I've been to cranberry country several times and was intrigued by the idea of flooding the fields for harvest. That must save a lot of weather-related angst for cranberry farmers!

One of the best Valentine's Day cards I ever received was a giant heart covered with cranberries. How sweet is that? I can't imagine how long it took him to glue the cranberries.

Yesterday was another day off (three in a row this week!) I took the chance do some cooking.

My go-to dish for parties is Grandma Leona's cranberry salad. I imagine the great nutritional value of the cranberries is smothered in the sugar, tapioca, marshmallows and pecans. Over the years I've reduced the sugar and marshmallows and added more celery - it's still delicious. I whipped up a batch for the Spitznogle Christmas party this afternoon.

I also made cranberry syrup! My cousin LuAnn grew and milled buckwheat flour and I wanted to make something special with it. Buckwheat pancakes and seemed like a great way to start the new year - if not my weight loss program.

The only hitch was that I've never made pancakes. How is that possible? I researched recipes and shopped for the stuff that I didn't have on hand - basically everything, since the ingredient list didn't include diet Pepsi, cat food or popcorn.

Before I started cooking, I dutifully entered the ingredients into the Weight Watchers recipe builder and almost fainted when it calculated 15 points per serving (I'm allowed 29 per day), but that didn't stop me - the cat wasn't going to dine on baking soda and lemons, although he might be intrigued by the buttermilk.

They were delicious! And by making the pancakes small, I was able whittle it down to 5 points a serving, including the syrup.

I also learned some valuable pancake making lessons: Multi-tasking is not possible. The smoke alarm is sensitive. Rubber spatulas melt. Skillet handles are hot. I have an exceptional talent for swearing.

When I first started the project, I had the notion that making pancakes would be a fun to do with someone else. Unless I find a guy that thinks batter all over the kitchen and scorched fingers are sexy, that's probably not a great idea.

In the meantime, I have ten pancakes in the freezer....

happy new year

2011-01-01T02:10:00.001-05:00

Feet happily pointed to 2011

I’m not a New Year’s resolution sort of chick. Hell, who am I kidding – I’m not an any-time resolution girl.

I do have several goals for this year.

In 2011 I’ll have one of those significant birthdays. The one that ends with a zero and starts with a five. It feels like this might be my last chance to shape up. And changing my shape is tops on my list. I’d like to lose 10 more pounds by my birthday.

I also need to get fiscally fit. Two years ago I had $10,000 in the bank and no credit card debt. Today I have $5.61 in savings, a car and a house. Credit card debt hovering between not-so-scary and holy-crap! Nothing that can’t be whipped in a year, with a lot of belt tightening and barring any disasters.

Write, write, write. I was in too much of a funk last year to finish a series that I started for our weekly paper and I hope I didn’t blow the relationship.

And I miss you all.

Seriously.

See you tomorrow.

N.

where did the year go?

2010-12-28T16:27:00.001-05:00

My cowboy boot socks. Thanks Santa!

I've been feeling bad about this blog for quite some time.

I don't know if this is a first-born trait or an astrological thing or borderline laziness, but if I can't do something perfectly, I don't do it at all. My house is either really messy or pretty clean. My desk is either spotless or loaded with towering piles. My column is either written or not - no outlines or jotted down ideas.

If I can't write a great blog post with the perfect photograph, it never gets written - or finished. I have dozens of drafts floating around here.

I have really embraced facebook - I joke that if I could have invented a way for me to communicate, it would have been facebook. The short updates seem to be suited to my writing style and humor. The fact that I have over 2200 'friends' keeps me on my toes and the conversation rolling. Click here if you'd like to be facebook friends.

I was kicking myself a minute ago when I logged on to Chez Pez for the first time in months - only 47 posts this year - including this one. 2009 wasn't much better - only 63. In 2008, I wrote 171 times and in 2007, 204.

A couple of things happened - I'm much busier at work and I'm have more writing outlets. The last two years were pretty rough on me work-wise, which manifested itself in to a walloping case of 'poor-me'

But things have changed - I'm still busy at work and part-time jobs and volunteer activities. I'm still poor as a church mouse (I love the new car, but the car payment is stretching me thin!).

The good news? My attitude has shifted.

My life seems more sensible.

I'm ready to stretch again. Write again.

See you in 2011.

austin city limits 2010 - day three

2010-10-10T18:51:00.001-04:00

Another wonderful day in Austin!

Click here to all about it!

austin city limits festival, day two - 2010

2010-10-09T23:11:00.000-04:00

Read all about my Saturday adventures at the Austin City Limits by clicking here.

austin city limits festival, day one 2010

2010-10-09T20:38:00.000-04:00

I've had a few wonderful days of lounging in my pajamas, reading in the sunshine and drinking whiskey.

I was a little less-lazy today. Click here for my recap of the first day of the Austin City Limits Festival.

austin city limits festival, eve

2010-10-07T20:54:00.003-04:00

Hey! I'm in Austin.

The weather is perfect, wish you were here.
Read all about it by clicking here.

indiana state fair day 15 - 2010 edition

2010-08-20T13:42:00.002-04:00

Not every day at the State Fair can be a, well, day at the fair.
Read about my misadventures by clicking here .

indiana state fair day 14 - 2010 edition

2010-08-19T13:38:00.000-04:00

Read all about how I was kicked off of this tractor and other adventures at the Indiana State Fair by clicking here.

indiana state fair day 13 - 2010 edition

2010-08-18T13:33:00.000-04:00

I went to the Indiana State Fair with my friend Doug - read all about it by clicking here.

indiana state fair day 12 - 2010 edition

2010-08-17T13:26:00.000-04:00

I joined the stroller brigade at the Indiana State Fair today.

To read about navigating the State Fair with twins and other adventures, click here.

indiana state fair day 11 - 2010 edition

2010-08-16T15:05:00.001-04:00

I was looking for a cowboy and caught the attention of the clown. Sums up the last few years of my dating life.

To read about today's adventures at the Indiana State Fair click here.

indiana state fair day 10 - 2010 edition

2010-08-15T23:54:00.000-04:00

Today's adventures included two trips to the Indiana State Fair with a shift at Marigold tossed in the middle.

Read all about what I did at the Fair by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 9 - 2010 edition

2010-08-14T22:37:00.000-04:00

It was a short visit to the State Fair - read all about by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 8 - 2010 edition

2010-08-13T23:06:00.000-04:00

Rain and cousins - Read all about it by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 7 - 2010 edition

2010-08-12T23:00:00.001-04:00

Rick Springfield....RICK SPRINGFIELD!!!

Rick played at the Indiana State Fair and I had a photo pass. I was so close I could have reached out at touched his black Chuck Taylor tennis shoes, but he and I were wearing the same shoe and I didn't want to embarrass him by pointing it out. Or get hauled off by those nice beefy security dudes.

I can't quit talking about this, but the dude will be 61 next week! He looks and sounds great.

Read about the show and the rest of my adventures by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 6 - 2010 edition

2010-08-11T23:12:00.000-04:00

Read all about it by clicking here.

indiana State Fair day 5 - 2010 edition

2010-08-10T23:26:00.000-04:00

Big fun day!

I got to play in a band!

At the State Fair!

Read all about it here.

indiana State Fair day 4 - 2010 edition

2010-08-09T23:36:00.000-04:00

How did I spend my Monday evening?

Read all about it here!

indiana state fair day 3 - 2010 edition

2010-08-08T23:27:00.000-04:00

Hot buttered, jumbo smoked Shriner

For more Shriner photos and witty copy, click here.

indiana State Fair day 2 - 2010 edition

2010-08-07T23:26:00.000-04:00

Day Two!

Click here to read my NUVO blog post with photos

Indiana State Fair day 1 - 2010 edition

2010-08-06T23:15:00.000-04:00

I am attempting to reprise my 2009 streak of attending the Indiana State Fair for all seventeen days - and write about it.

Here we go.

Click here for link to Day One

on a roll - sort of

2010-08-05T23:07:00.000-04:00

I was on a roll with posting. Then I did lots of interesting things that I should have blogged about then didn't.

I'm going to try to attend and write about all seventeen days of the Indiana State Fair.

Wheeeee!

school

2010-07-19T16:36:00.002-04:00

I took a course Friday and Saturday -- Program Evaluation of Mission Impact and Organizational Improvement (Bad Influence Girl suggested that I raise my hand and ask why is was not called: Do your programs work for your organization?).

It was a nice change of pace to sharpen my pencils and spend two days on a college campus and stretch my brain. Math included.

The class was through the I.U. School of Public and Environmental Affairs (SPEA). There was pre-class homework of reading a book's worth of stuff about outcomes and inputs and evaluation and things I didn't even know about five years ago. I classified myself as a beginner in program evaluation when we introduced ourselves. The only other person who fessed up to the beginner stage was a woman who coached Division Three womens sports. Her outcomes were easy on the surface - wins/losses, GPA of student athletes --but how to do measure the impact against someone who didn't get a scholarship or make the team?

My measures seem pretty simple too - how many meals did we prepare, how many students did we graduate. But what about the impact on the folks that don't get our meals or are not accepted into the class. It's enough to make your head explode....and work a little harder.

The IUPUI campus is just a few miles from my house, but participants came from all over the country and Canada. I enjoyed bragging on my hometown and suggesting activities and sites to see to my classmates. I assured everyone it was perfectly safe to walk around downtown at night. When a text alert about this popped up I felt guilty. But that is a whole 'nother blog post.

birthdays

2010-07-18T23:38:00.003-04:00

I love birthdays. Everyone has one and they’re fun to celebrate.

I can remember almost all of my birthdays. Mom always made sure they were special, even though I never got a pony.

The zero birthdays always get celebrated extra special. Sweet niece Molly turned 10 this year. I wish I felt as grown up now as I did at 10.

I have friends that are parents of 20 year-olds, and hang out with a few kids who recently turned 30. Another friend turned 40 last week.

My crowd is turning 50. Seriously. I hear 50 is the new 30. I sure hope so.

The really cool part is that my 50-ish friends seem really, really happy. And they look darn good too!

Which means that I have ten months to get it together.

Kristi celebrated her birthday yesterday. She’s one of my pulled-together, hip, beautiful friends and I was thrilled to celebrate with her. I am continually amazed by her generosity, humor, parenting skills and and all-around kick-ass self.

Cheers, friend!

band practice

2010-07-16T23:16:00.004-04:00

I had band practice Monday.

You read that right. Band practice.

I’m in a band – Alice Chalmers and the Stick a Cork in Your Jug Band.

An all-woman jug band. [insert your jug jokes here]

We need Cliff to pull us around with Spooky Old Allis.

There are seven of us. Five are actual musicians, one is quickly picking up the washtub bass and then there is me - playing percussion on an old typewriter – with a wooden spoon.

I’ve dated musicians and band practice always seemed like a mysterious event, and often-unhappy one.

Would you like a breakdown of our band practice?
I’m sure they’re all like this one.

We started out with root-beer floats, cherry pie and complimenting each other’s makeup and instruments.

The moment practice started you could tell it was going to be a wonderful experience.

Beautiful four-part harmonies and gorgeous music.

Cara Jean Wahlers put the group together – she has an amazing voice and plays guitar, bass, accordion and whatever else she puts her mind to.

Stasia Demos Mills also has a marvelous voice and plays just about any instrument she lays her hands on.

Joni Back-Bubenzer plays ukulele like a rock star. And writes like one too.

Holly Jae Smith plays violin and sings like an angel.

Jude O’Dell is a marvelous singer, plays banjo and guitar and has a wealth of musical knowledge and a brain for old-timey songs. See her amazing clay work here.

Tammy Lieber plays washtub bass. I was not familiar with the instrument; it is an upside down washtub, a stick and a long string. The string makes a delightfully deep sound when plucked.

It took me a while to find the sound in the typewriter, but with coaching from Jude and wooden spoons from Cara we discovered some fun sounds.

I am partial to G.

I mostly just giggled about how remarkable the evening was.

Our first gig is at the Indiana State Fair, Tuesday, August 10, noon - 2:00, Pioneer Village. Check it out on facebook here.

yard sale

2010-07-11T19:56:00.002-04:00

Jennifer and I had our annual yard sale this week.

We’ve been doing it for a dozen years. We couldn’t start until noon on Friday due to work concerns and the threat of rain and I think it cut in to our sales.

It was hotter than Hades. With the heat index is was over 100 degrees.

I didn’t sell much, got a sunburn and achy feet.

Yet, I had a wonderful time.

We love marketing and merchandizing our sale – and get compliments on our organization. We have a book nook – organized by age and subject, a kitchen korner, holiday table – Christmas and other, CDs and a toy table. We make outfits out of the clothes and hang them on the fence. The kids clothes are separated by size and season.

Jennifer’s brother helped us pack up and asked why we did it each year. I told him that I loved having two straight days to catch up with Jennifer. He pointed out that we could go to a spa instead.

Good point, dude. Good point.

exploring

2010-07-07T23:57:00.001-04:00

The news today of the barge hitting the tour boat on the Delaware River between Philadelphia and south Jersey combined with my reminiscing about the Riverton Independence Day celebrations reminded me of the exploring I used to along the river.

And makes me wonder how in heck I survived.

I lived on the top floor of a wonderful Victorian House just a few blocks from the Delaware River. The whole town is on the National Historic Register and there were very few rentals in the town. Somehow, I soon had half of the Houlihan's management staff moving to the town whenever something opened up.

A couple of us went in on a used fiberglass canoe, the thing was as heavy as could be. That wouldn't stop us from dragging it to the river to go exploring. We'd row across the river and walk though the abandoned factories.

Occasionally I'd go by myself. One day I spent hours walking through the fallen down buildings and climbing stairs and poking around where I'm sure I wasn't supposed to be.

I found the giant wooden tongs (pictured above) on that trip. I think they are for changing fuses and electrical stuff. The name Schweitzer and Conrad is on the metal label. It looks like the company is going strong, although they call themselves S&C now. There is also a patent number and guidelines as to what amperes and volts it can handle.

I shudder when I think of all of the not-so-smart stuff I used to do there. I thought nothing of rowing across the river, hanging on tightly to the sides of the canoe when the trash barges would go by, without telling anyone where I was going. I took a walk almost every night after work, be it in my town or in Philadelphia.

Middle of the night rollerblading with friends and a twelve-pack of beer, iced down in a pickle bucket were a regular occurrence. We're lucky we didn't crack our heads or get arrested.

On my days off, I'd go to NYC or down the shore or wander Philly by myself. Pre-cell phone, of course.

Those were the days before three jobs and obligations. I bet I could have been missing for a few days before anyone would notice. Of course, I was in my late 20s, early 30s then and as invincible as could be.

Man, I used to be a lot more fun.

writing....

2010-07-06T18:10:00.001-04:00

....for fun.

I've been wondering if I should take a hiatus from my column and other writing gigs. The last six months have been a whirly-gig of deadlines and panic writing and dread.

I'm working hard to get caught up and turning in assignments on time. This week has been a joy - column writing done, nothing due for NUVO or Ghettoblaster.

And lookie here - I blogged. And wrote for fun.

Now if I could just think of a way to make laundry and cleaning fun.

lazy

2010-07-05T22:36:00.001-04:00

[too damn lazy to take a photograph]

Sometimes I think I’m the laziest person I around.

I know what you’re going to say. I have three paying jobs and write for three publications and am in charge of upkeep on two houses and all of the paperwork and keeping track of stuff that comes with all of those obligations. And parents.

But sometimes I just stop in my tracks.

Today is one of those days.

I mostly just sat on my bum and watched episodes of Nip/Tuck. I finally garnered enough energy to put on my swimsuit and go to the pool. First order of business – grilled cheese with ham and fries, tamped down with an ice-cream cone.

I did swim/walk in the lap lanes, chatting with friends, for over an hour.

Today was good for the soul, if not for housekeeping or deadlines.

favorite day of the year

2010-07-04T23:05:00.002-04:00

Watching the fireworks with my siblings - J.R., Beth, me, Ann

I can’t remember ever having a bad Fourth of July.

Our whole family is usually together. Sort of like Christmas, without all of the pressure.

1976 was fun – we had a party at the farm. Mom made sure that each of us had our picture taken waving a hand-held flag. I’m sure the picture is in a box of photographs somewhere. And I’ll find it someday.

I’m sure I had a year or two of eye-rolling teenage angst, but they’re long forgotten.

My adult appreciation of Independence Day formed in my Riverton, NJ years. Riverton throws a good party. The Riverton Yacht Club is one of the oldest yacht clubs in the country. Lest you think it’s too fancy, it’s a dock with a building. It was in Riverton that I discovered the power of water. Almost every night I would walk the two blocks to the Yacht Club and stick my toes in the river.

One year the Riverton celebration featured a fundraising auction. I realized that the most interesting man there was also the donor of an airplane ride over Philadelphia. I boldly bid and won. He seemed pleased about it too.

We took the ride a few weeks later and had a lovely day. Flying over Philadelphia and down the Delaware River was thrilling and sitting next to the pilot in the two-seater plane was delightful too. I can’t remember the extent of the relationship that summer, but we did hang out a few times after that and I remember a slightly tipsy make-out session on my balcony. I can’t remember his name but I do remember that he was real involved in the community. Ironically, I remember being a little turned off by his community work. In retrospect he seems like my ideal date. It’s amazing what a few decades did for my maturity.

When I moved back to Indiana I wormed my way into the Herr family party. The routine didn’t vary much over the years. Parade in Lebanon, stop for a treat at Ice Cream Paradise, Herr’s for a cookout and an amazing fireworks show launched off of a flatbed wagon.

Occasionally I’d bring friend or boyfriend along. Kids were born –Molly’s first year, she was two weeks old. The next July 4th she was crawling – and some fireworks fall-out fell a little too close for comfort. Ann Herr Mitchell and I brushed off the live embers and didn’t complain. We didn’t want to draw attention to how close they’d come to sweet Molly.

I reconnected with Jerry at the Herr’s one year and he explained blogging to me. Almost 500 posts later, here we are. Speaking of blogging, I spent 2008 at Blogstock. A memorable and fun year – we were in the Tekema, NE parade and I got to connect with wonderful people.

Then Mr. Herr died. And then Larry and Kathy died. And the party at the Herr home farm faded away. It was time for a new tradition.

Brother J.R. and his lovely family started hosting us on the terrace of Victory Field for the Indianapolis Indians game and the best view in town for the fireworks.

The traditions change – but it is still my favorite day of the year.

i'm back

2010-07-03T15:35:00.001-04:00

I’ve been struggling with this blog. I slowed down on writing for a variety of reasons.

At some point I started writing with the thought that both my mom and my boss might be reading it. Not that I’m writing about anything untoward or that can’t be read by anyone, but it was a different mindset.

I lost my voice. When I read back though the blog the best things I wrote were about being single and my day-to-day life and the delight I see in quirky things. The writing got stifled when I tried to make it too formal – sanitized.

So. Here I am. Again.

I’m 49 now. How in the Hell did that happen? Seriously – how did that happen?

My birthday as always seems like the time to make resolutions, changes. I decided to take a hard look at my lifestyle and myself.

Buying a new car was first on the list. I know the HHR is not the car of a typical mid-life crisis, but it is for chick trying to live within her means. Everyone else seems to morn the loss of the truck more than I do. To a good chunk of my friends and acquaintances my identity is tied to the truck.

I’m working on paying off debts -- yes, buying a new car seems counter-intuitive to that. It’s amazing how much you can save if you put your mind to it.

I’ve made great strides in organizing my house. Last year was all about necessary repairs – new garage roof, water-heater and plumbing. This year I hope it get the house painted and new gravel for the driveway. Again, not the sexiest of projects, but things that would make my house my own.

I’m also working on some intangibles.

Being a more thoughtful and generous friend, for one. In the old days I was on top of birthday cards and thank you notes. I used to leave jars of flowers and sidewalk chalk notes outside of friends doors. At some point I got too busy or too lazy for that.

Although I have a very active social life, I tend to do things by myself. I’m working on making plans with people. Planning to meet people at the pool vs. hoping to run into them. Carpooling to a show instead of going by myself. Dinner with friends instead of a bag of popcorn by myself.

I can't wait to see what happens!

bocce

2010-07-02T14:22:00.000-04:00

[this is a horrible photo of me, but I'm using it anyway]

Sister Ann and brother-in-law Tim are visiting from Phoenix, which means our world gets a little more fun. Brother J.R. has a manufacturing factory just a few blocks from Second Helpings. All which lead to an impromptu lunch in my work neighborhood.

The Milano Inn opened in 1934 and survived the a blip in the 1990s of a generational change in management. Last year they added outdoor seating and a bocce court.

One of the great perks of Second Helpings is that we eat lunch prepared by the students every day. The flip side of that is that it's always a working lunch and no break in the day.

It was fun and good for the soul to get out of the building for an hour. The icing on the tiramisu was that Ann and I kicked ass in bocce.