The hotel must have known I was coming. The coffee was strong, the room cards worked, and look at the illustration next to the room number.
It was a wonderful, personal welcome after a long, hot day.
We spent last week traveling, enjoying hotel beds, hotel breakfasts, and a variety of other meals cooked by someone else. We traveled by plane, train (light rail & Amtrak), buses, taxis, and hotel shuttles. We snacked on airplane peanuts and hotel lobby fresh fruit.
Hotel chains have their own mottoes and personalities. And (you probably guessed this was coming) some are more eco-conscious than others. A great example from the Daisy perspective is the ubiquitous hotel disposable coffee cup.
Holiday Inn Express was disappointing. They still use foam. So on we go —
The Hampton made me happier. Wax type cup, cardboard sleeve (recyclable). They made sure we knew they were approaching environmental friendliness by announcing it on the cups, too.
Anyway, I had the robust coffee from the hotel lobby instead of making it myself. I still appreciate the quest for quality and eco-sensitive choices. Next time I travel, I’ll keep this information in mind.
Folks, I’m updating my LinkedIn profile with descriptions of past positions. The challenge is this: I’m not seeking a teaching job. I want to stress different skills honed while teaching. I’d like to demonstrate a sense of humor, but that’s dangerous on a professional style web site. Here’s an example. Input, friends and colleagues?
Substitute Teacher:
Elementary teacher
Many of these are still too educational in nature. Other possibilities, terms and words that might fit:
In general, I prefer the Sub Teacher list. Ideas, readers? Please leave a comment or two. Or more.
I mentioned the City Council meeting two weeks ago, but I didn’t share the results yet. The Council voted in favor of the perceived majority, the emotional and noisy latecomers to the issues. In the elevator after the meeting, a neighbor turned to Chuck and asked his advice on what to do with the signs they’d made.
Good man that he is, he suggested compost.
Readers, they meant well. They made these lovely protest signs and attached them to a small branch, er, stick.
So what’s the problem, Daisy? Recycle the paper top, and compost the stick, right? Almost. I insist, though; I must have my moment. I have to get persnickety.
The sticks were stuck to the treetops with two industrial strength staples from a staple gun. After seeing the neighbors and their recruits waving the signs around, I know they made dozens. Will they really take the time to pull out and recycle the staples? Doubtful.
Masking tape would have been the biodegradable, environmental choice. Of course they didn’t ask me. Snicker. I’m only Daisy, the composter mom. What do I know? And the neighbors are too busy to read my blog.
They don’t know what they’re missing. Really.
You heard the news, folks. Wisconsin’s Paul Ryan is now Mitt Romney’s running mate. But who is this guy? What’s his vision? What is Paul Ryan really like?
Paul Ryan represents a district in southern Wisconsin in Congress. He is 42 years old, the fourth youngest candidate on a major party ticket. His relative youth may be a factor if it strengthens his appeal to Generation X, Generation Y, and even a few Millennials. Baby Boomers are not so sure; we’ll get to that another day.
Paul Ryan is an economist by trade. He graduated from college with a double major in economics and political science. On the surface, this could be a plus on his balance sheet. He is articulate and intelligent, and he can expound upon economic theories at length.
A CNN morning anchor (we’ll call her “Ash”), was gushing about Paul Ryan on Monday morning. Yes, gushing. Let’s see if I can remember. His eyes, his hairstyle, his smile, and then his past. She was excited that he’d been a bartender – she also worked her way through college tending bar and cocktail waitressing! She was thrilled to hear that he’d worked for Oscar Mayer because he’d driven (are you ready for this?) the Weinermobile. Just what she wanted to see in a Vice President: good looks, experience behind the bar, and a Weinermobile on his resume.
But let’s look more deeply than our giddy blonde anchor did, more deeply into this economist’s vision for the country. His budget plan, nicknamed the “Path to Prosperity,” didn’t really propose to increase prosperity for the average middle class American. His plan as introduced last fall included major changes in the programs known as entitlements, most notably replacing Medicare with a voucher program. His overall plan also relied on severe spending cuts. These cuts, and the austerity policies that would result, promised to be extreme and far-reaching.
The Ryan Budget bill did not become law. It passed the House, but the Senate voted it down.
What’s next, moving forward? Well, blog readers, that’s where the problem sits. Paul Ryan’s plans would move our country in reverse, back to the archaic values of the 1950s. His plans are extreme, severe, and austere in all the wrong places.
Ryan describes himself as being “…as pro-life as a person can be.” Unfortunately, that doesn’t include pro-women who need birth control, empathetic toward women who become pregnant by rape or incest, or supportive of women who have a legitimate need to terminate a pregnancy. He doesn’t value their lives at all.
Rep. Ryan’s budget proposals favor privatizing public education and using public funding in order to do it. His austerity measures and cuts will harm public schools – schools that are suffering financially already. A full generation of students are at risk. These students, unfortunately, are too young to vote.
Rep. Ryan likes the idea of for-profit colleges. He ignores the years of evidence that show for-profit colleges’ students’ poor payback record for federal student loans. Defaults on loans like this – well, where does the money come from to make up the missing dough? Ryan hasn’t answered that question. He has a history of voting against increasing amounts or availability of Pell Grants, grants that target low-income students pay for college. In general, his policies show that he views education as a privilege for the wealthy rather than an opportunity and a right for all.
Look beneath the surface, voters. How will a Ryan extreme budget affect you and your family? Make your judgment based on the real and detailed policies and philosophies, not on the thirty second sound bites on television.
And beware of gushing anchors. Bright eyes, a head full of hair that hasn’t grayed (yet), and a Weinermobile drivers’ license aren’t enough for this voter.
Best shuttle service: A clear gold medal to the Littleton, Colorado Hampton Inn. Shuttle took us anywhere within Littleton, including the school for the blind, restaurants, and location for boarding the light rail to get downtown.
Best beverage: Gold goes to Ted’s Montana Grill for their wild berry lemonade. I had two and a glass of wine. What a great drink to accompany a bison burger! Silver goes to Starbucks in the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport for their ice tea lemonade.
Best public transportation: Two gold medals go to light rail in both Minneapolis and the Denver area. In coordination with public transit buses, these light rail systems provided a great means for our family to get where we wanted to go.
Best breakfast: Hotel breakfasts had many options, including the waffle-maker (Colorado) and the pancake machine (Minneapolis). P.S. The coffee was strong and tasty everywhere.
Best lunch: Comfort food from a chain restaurant, Noodles & Company. Me, Daisy, choosing a national chain? This time, yes. We were exhausted, tense from figuring out the train and bus systems, and hot and sweaty in the 90+ degree weather to boot. Seeing “Wisconsin Mac and Cheese” advertised on Denver’s Noodles & Company drew us in. A taste of home away from home: priceless.
Best dinner side dish: Gold: NoNo’s Cajun Grill in LIttleton. We were inspired to look up a recipe for Corn Macque Choux. If we can come even close to this dish, it’ll be delicious.
Best dinner entree: Bison burgers at Ted’s Montana Grill, tied with the shrimp basket cooked to perfection at Ivan’s of East Troy, Wisconsin. Maybe this decision was tainted a little by the relief we felt at arriving safely almost-home and avoiding a complete meltdown, Amigo style.
Best view: This one isn’t really fair. Which would you rather see, the Mall of America or the Rocky Mountains? Colorado, of course.
Best value: public transportation from Denver International Airport to our hotel. It cost us less than half what a taxi or shared shuttle would have cost, and gave us a chance to see more of the town than we would have otherwise.
Best Save: Chuck, for finding a Best Buy kiosk in the Minneapolis – St. Paul airport when Amigo’s iPhone battery ran low. We’d mistakenly packed his charger in the checked luggage.
Now: the other side of the awards.
Worst access: Holiday Inn Express in MN. The key cards were inconsistent at best, and impossible at worst. Our “good” key card opened the door an average of one time in seven. Sorry, Holiday Inn, that’s not even close to being good enough.
Worst noise level: Union Station in Chicago. Between the heat and the noise, Amigo was beside himself. I can turn off my hearing aids; Amigo, with his super sensitive hearing, cannot.
Worst overall experience: Amtrak. Amtrak, we’ve had good trips and great trips, This one was a huge disappointment. In fact, it’ll take another full post to really make clear all that went wrong. Wait for it.
So far, you’ve seen the outside of the castle, er, mansion. Then I shared observations of the fireplaces, hidden doors, and lamp-holders. But wait – there’s more. We went into the dungeons, I mean the basement, not for Potions with Snape, but to see the wood shop classroom.
On the way to the stairs, we saw evidence of Mr. Weasley’s Muggle artifacts collection. Someone tell him it’s not plugged in.
On our way to the Owlery, we opened an ordinary-looking door only to find an old safe.
I did say Owlery. If there was any doubt earlier, this bathroom provided convincing evidence that we were visiting Harry’s alma mater.
Amigo, pack your wand. And look out for that Malfoy kid; he can’t be trusted.
We last left our heroes – no, strike that. Let’s try again.
You saw the outside and the entrance to Minnesota’s answer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now lets follow Amigo and his parents (Daisy and Chuck) as they scope out the fascinating place.
The director has a huge working fireplace in her office. Many other rooms have fireplaces, but none are this big.
Speaking of rooms, when I asked to use the rest room, they showed me to the hidden door in the wall.
To get to the second floor, we had to go up the ancient wooden steps. Luckily, these stayed in place; none of that bad habit of changing directions every other Tuesday. Or was it Thursday?
On the second floor we were certain that this was a division of Hogwarts, U.S.A. Could these lampholders exist anywhere else?
There’s more to behold – later. For now, the answer to the above question. How many staircases are in the Hogwarts castle? Well?
142, of course. “…wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday…”
Oh, the white thing in the top picture? I honestly don’t remember. Maybe it’s the mansion’s ghost, Mrs. Pillsbury. She’s supposed to be friendly.
We called a cab to take us from our hotel near all the modern travel amenities (like the airport and the Mall of America) to the NFB Training Center in Minneapolis. Amigo is planning to attend one of the centers, and this one is high on the list. The taxi driver, however, wasn’t so enlightened. He fiddled with his GPS, asked us if we were sure of the address, and called his central office before he could get us on the road. When we got to the destination, I realized why he couldn’t figure it out on his own.
We walked along the stone (concrete?) fence and saw —
…these creatures guarding the gates. Then up the steps to the front entrance:
I’m not sure what’s guarding the main door, but it’s big and ornate. Looking more closely, we saw this.
Oops, wrong British novelist. Anyway, the mood was set.
The cabbie must have been a Muggle. The mansion was obviously Minnesota’s answer to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, bewitched such that ordinary non-magical folk would never know it was there. If he could have seen the mansion, he might have seen this.
There are too many details to share in just one post. Stay tuned: you’ll enjoy more of the Midwest’s answer to Hogwarts. Just wait. I need another butterbeer to quench my thirst before I continue.
Saturday was a comedy of errors – almost. There were too many errors to call it a true. Maybe with a little distance, we’ll laugh.
On our way to La Petite’s, we were caught in a traffic jam near a construction zone. Amigo: “How do you know it’s a construction zone?” Chuck: “It’s riddled with Schneider eggs.” Amigo: “Oh, Wisconsin’s state flower.” After inching along the highway for what felt like an hour, we saw the problem: a dump truck with a full load of rocks waiting to be towed. How does a dump truck filled with rock get towed? What kind of tow truck can handle that kind of load? We mused on it as we headed for lunch.
You know those little blue signs by the exits, right? Readers, I’ll bet you’ve used those to find a gas station or a quick bite to eat while on the road. We saw a Culver’s listed on the sign and said “Yea! Let’s go!” Not so fast, family. We drove on and on and on with no blue roofed restaurant in sight. We recalibrated, turned around, and peered down the side streets. Still no blue roof with big Culver’s sign. We gave up and dragged our rumbling tummies to Taco Bell instead. La Petite, by the way, thinks the sign is wrong and the Culver’s in East Troy doesn’t exist. She has searched for it as extensively as a one week stay in town would allow.
A fast food lunch on a hot, hot day created a new dilemma. We couldn’t leave the bunnies (en route to La Petite’s) in the hot, hot minivan. We couldn’t take the bunnies into the Taco Bell. We felt it was too hot to eat at the outdoor picnic tables, which was our only option for getting the bunnies out while we ate. We did the very un-ecofriendly thing – eco-unfriendly? – one of us sat in the car with the A/C on while the other two ate. Then we took turns bunny-sitting as all family members used the rest rooms. Deep breath: two challenges met and conquered. Onward!
Next (although it felt like “finally” would do here), we arrived at the apartment complex. Time to get busy and help La Petite move in! We spotted Surfer Dude, the apartment manager, and he asked for the cashier’s check for the deposit. Oops. We had the money, that wasn’t a problem. We didn’t have a cashier’s check, though, and it was Saturday afternoon. No banks would be open. Our darling daughter couldn’t move in until this was paid, so we offered the credit card. Surfer Dude (nice guy, long blonde hair, sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt) got the go-ahead from his boss to accept our credit card, and away we went.
Then we had a more major emergency: Amigo needed to use the restroom, and La Petite’s apartment had no TP. The cleaning staff had mistakenly emptied the refrigerator of food that she’d brought earlier and tossed anything else they thought had been left behind by former tenants. Amigo used the office restrooms and Surfer Dude donated a roll of the important paper product. Relief – on both counts!
Did I mention that it was a hot day? Oh, yes, I did. We were sweating like Olympians, and the U-Haul seemed to empty oh so slowly. We took many breaks, to stand in front of the A/C unit and drink many fluids. Eventually, what started as this —
— became an empty truck.
And so began our travels.