Category Archives: Random Thoughts

>Best and Worst Awards

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>Compiled with help from the “Review Academy,” a.k.a. Husband and Amigo

Best rest stops: New York (with one exception, see below) and Maine. Lots of choices for eating, food court style. Clean tables and rest rooms.
Worst rest stops: Ohio. Grungy buildings, high prices, few choices. I didn’t even buy postcards.

Best bumper sticker: “What would Scooby Do?”
Best personalized license plate: BA HA BA (hint: think of a location in Maine)
Most confusing roadside sign: “Balloon parking next right.” Huh?
Most random roadside sign: Programmable flashing sign on Massachusetts Turnpike: “Test 1,2,3. Blah. Test 1,2,3. Blah.”

Worst surprise: flat tire outside of Yarmouth.
Best moment within worst surprise: Strangers stopped to help; service staff gave us a ride to McD’s while they worked on tire.

Highest gas prices: Canada. It took me a while to figure out the price per gallon, since Canadian stations measure in liters (Yes, it’s we in the U.S. who are backwards and insist on using the old-fashioned system). But all in all, filling the minivan tank in Canada definitely induced sticker shock.
Lowest gas prices: Back home in Wisconsin! $3.86 when we arrived home. The low cost of living is one great reason to live here.

Best hotel wi-fi: Portland, Maine, at the Eastland Park Hotel. Easy password, reliable service.
Worst hotel wi-fi: La Quinta. First night, we spent twenty minutes on the phone with the tech line. They rebooted the entire system, then we had to wait another half hour to get service. Next night? No wi-fi at all. Tech folks blamed the problem on my brand new laptop computer.

Best breakfast: toss-up between tea biscuits at Tim Horton’s and the breakfast on board the Cat ferry. Both had good coffee. Dunkin’ Donuts and their munchkins made a pretty good opening to the day, too. No, I didn’t eat (and drink) all of those on the same day!

Worst tollway: New Hampshire — the only state that couldn’t get our I-Pass online. Our tolls cleared later, but it was a bit nervewracking going through the booth and see it not function.
Worst highway conditions: Michigan I-69. The highway in Ontario was so much smoother; I-69 was like a collection of poorly-made patches.
Prettiest stretch of highway: It’s a toss-up between New York State and Massachusetts. My inner science geek kept saying, “Look at those rock layers!” The drive along the coast from Lockeport to Lunenberg was very picturesque, too. The farms reminded me of home, but with more hills.

Best meal: Grilled salmon in Portland, Maine. Or was it the seafood chowder at the Stone Soup Cafe in Ipswich, Mass.? Then there was that fish cake in Shelburne, Nova Scotia…and their chowder was delicious, too.

Worst meal: Ohio rest stop. See above. Overpriced, poor quality, and I’ll stop there. We skipped Ohio on the trip home in favor of going through Ontario.

Best seafood? Come on, we were on the Atlantic coast. Every bit of fish we had was delicious.

Best customer service: Pontiac dealer in Yarmouth. Those people were wonderful. I wish we lived there so we could give them more business.
Worst customer service: Rest stop restaurant in New York where the teenage staff were so busy on the phone talking about their lottery tickets that they made customers wait and then realized they were out of wings and had to make more before they could serve the aforementioned customers.

Best coffee: Sorry, that’s another whole post.

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>coffee du jour — a vacation diary in caffeine doses

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>Day One:
Hit the road, Jack. Made a big serving of instant cappuccino for my travel mug and installed it in the cup-holder. Double-checked that the coffee filters were packed in the foodstuffs box. Drove and rode many, many miles over four states.

Day Two:
On the road again! Small cup of hotel-made coffee at breakfast, not bad. Filled travel mug with Maxwell House brewed in the in-room coffeemaker. Again, not bad. Satisfying.
Refilled at the first gas stop. Weather too hot to enjoy hot coffee. Photographed Amigo in front of two football stadiums, one baseball field, and one arena. Three states today.

Day Three:
On the road again, just can’t wait to get…okay, enough already. Filled travel mug (again) from in-room machine after a small cup of basic brew from the hotel breakfast.
Took morning break at Dunkin’ Donuts, picked up mid-morning snack of Munchkins and iced hazelnut coffee. Mmm, now this is good. Staff were friendly, too, welcoming these obvious out-of towners to their little corner store.

Day Four:
One cup in-room brew before leaving for ferry.
On ferry: They serve Starbucks! W00T! Had some with breakfast and another small cup later on with popcorn. Don’t laugh — I can’t be the only person who likes popcorn and coffee together, can I? No, don’t answer that. I managed not to spill either while watching a whale breech not far from the ship. Wow!

Day five:
Made a pot of my own in cottage kitchen. The sound and smell of brewing coffee; ah, how relaxing. Note to self: a souvenir coffee mug would be appropriate. Must keep eyes (and wallet) open for the perfect item.

Day six:
Played tourist. Tim Hortons’ house blend for breakfast: hit the spot. Later on in Shelburne, picked up a cuppa from a cute little cafe called BeanDocks. Chose the blend “Jamaican Me Crazy” because Amigo was at his stubborn-teen worst. I felt much better after only half a cup. The barrista/ gift shop owner was really nice, too. Maybe the fact that I also bought a couple of souvenirs helped. But mmm, the power of a good cup of coffee. Can’t underestimate it.

Day seven:
Made a pot of my own again in cottage kitchen. Foggy outside, everything’s damp; there’s something comforting about the home-away-from-home feeling of brewing coffee warming up the place. Still haven’t found just the right souvenir mug.

Day eight:
Bought a cup of a fair trade blend at the Lunenberg Farmers’ Market; liked it enough to buy a small bag of the beans. This is a souvenir that will keep on giving long after I get home. And speaking of souvenirs: Husband ducked into a gift shop on Bluenose Lane and found a white mug decorated with a lobster. It’s a keeper!

Day nine:
Cup plus refills over breakfast at the local diner, flavored with wonderful local tales from the man at the booth beside ours. We learned when the lobster season runs, how large a swordfish can be, how the town’s population is shrinking, and why three-story houses on the coast often have staircases in their attics. No, it’s not because of flooding. What a delightful encounter!

Day ten:
Cuppa in the cottage kitchen: the last. Starbucks on the ferry. Foggy day — if there are whales around no one would know it. Hot coffee helps cut through the damp feeling.

Day eleven:
Dunkin’ Donuts, down the street from the hotel in downtown Portland. Got Amigo a coolatta, and a box of munchkins for the family. On the road again, just can’t wait to get on the road again….

Day twelve:
Hit the road, Jack…no coffee in hotel room? What kind of establishment is this? Oh, yeah, they have some in the lobby. No wonder their rates are so low.

Day thirteen:
Show me the way to go home! Home to my own coffeemaker, my own grinder (can’t wait to make the Lunenberg coffee), my own mugs. Aaah.

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>There are addictions, and there are addictions.

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Created by OnePlusYou

72%. Not bad, all things considered. Blogging is fulfilling, fun, and cheaper than therapy. Now that school is out, I’ll spend more time decompressing online. If I took this quiz in a few weeks, my addiction percentage might be higher. Meanwhile, I need to refill my coffee cup.

How does your blogging addiction measure up? Leave your score in the comments!

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>Blogging means expanding my (recipe) repertoire

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Margalit’s Oatmeal Whole Wheat Bread with a Daisy spin

I found this recipe on Margalit’s site and I’ve made it several times. Any mistakes below are mine, not hers. I did make a few small changes to make it work for my everloving and starving family.

Add the ingredients as they are printed into the bread machine pan.

1 cup old-fashioned oats
1-1/2 cups water (add more if dough is too dry in 1 tbs increments)
3 Tablespoons canola oil
1/3 cup honey
2 teaspoons salt
2 cups white bread flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
2-1/2 Teaspoons active dry yeast

Place all the ingredients in the pan, using the least amount of liquid and adding more if needed, as seen below. Select Medium or Light Crust, Wheat course, and press start. Daisy tip: Stay home and enjoy inhaling the lovely aroma of baking bread.

Observe the dough as it kneads. After 5 to 1- minutes, if it appears dry or stiff, or if the machine sounds like it’s straining to knead it, add more liquid 1 Tablespoon at a time until dough forms a smooth, soft, pliable ball that is slightly tacky to the touch. Daisy tip: put a little hot water in the honey-coated measuring cup and use this for the additional water, as needed.

After the baking cycle ends, remove bread from pan, place on cooling rack, and allow to cool 1 hour before slicing. Daisy tip: good luck waiting. It smells so good you might have to hire a guard or set an alarm to let it cool for an entire hour.

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>Ten Things I Never Seem to Learn

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>(Inspired by the incredible Kelly at Mocha Momma)

10. How to dress fashionably. Not going to happen. Don’t even think about it.
9. Remember to scrub my nose in the morning. Since I’ve developed a snoring problem (quiet up there in the peanut gallery!), I’ve used the funny nose strips that football players wear. They seem to help me breathe better at night, but the adhesive is a mess. I am constantly waking up in the morning, tossing the strip in the wastebasket, blowing my nose, and ending up with a schnozz covered with sticky tissue remnants.
8. Master all the features of my cell phone. I can call out, receive calls, text message, and even take pictures with the camera setting. But there are all kinds of shortcuts, like a text message dictionary, that I’ve discovered and I haven’t used. Yet.

7. Housekeeping. Carol Brady had Alice; I pay a cleaning service to come in once a month and do the basics. Maybe I have learned this one; I learned to pay someone else to do what I can’t.
6. Keep on track with appointments and regular checkups. My hearing aids need service, I’m behind by one dental cleaning, and if I think about it, I’ll realize there’s more. I’ll choose not to think about it, instead.
5. How to eat spaghetti without spilling sauce on myself. I’m getting older, but I’m not Old. Dinner shouldn’t be all over my shirt — yet.
4. Going to bed early means wake up early. If I’m extra tired and go to bed half and hour early, it’s inevitable that I’ll wake up an hour before my alarm.
3. Going back to bed means bad dreams. Always. I’m better off getting up and (if possible) taking a nap later.
2. A little goes a long way. Especially when it’s chocolate, even more when it’s dark chocolate. But if that small piece tastes fabulous, more would be heavenly, right? Uh-huh.
1. Get to know and cheer for a new Green Bay Packer quarterback. Well, give me time, okay? I can do this. Heck, I recovered after Bart Starr left. But I was a lot younger and more resilient back then.

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>grad school, again?

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>We arrived on our own, our graduate program’s own fab five, each in our own vehicles, usually the family minivan. The five of us, friends and coworkers, were taking yet another graduate class together on a large, sprawling, confusing campus. When the class day was over, four of us couldn’t find our vans in the parking garage, so we all piled into one. As we worked our way out of the maze of parking ramps, constantly on the lookout for any of our missing vans, we ran into construction. One of us got out of the van and ran ahead to see if we could make it out through the wreckage. She came back and said yes, we could get through, so we inched our way through the mess.

At that point, I woke up.

When I told Husband about this, he said it was obvious; I was just trying to survive the last week of school and get out in one piece!

I emailed this to the friends involved for their take on it. One liked Husband’s interpretation but added that maybe it was about the fact that we all stick together through thick and thin, one or all of us are there when we need it, and we all look out for each other no matter what! Another reminded me that even though we may arrive at our destinations separately, we are always together in our hearts – and vans! It wasn’t snowing in the dream like it was the last time we got together, but we had difficulty getting home. And finally, we all agreed that it meant we were way overdue for a girls’ night out.

Any other thoughts, folks? Have I missed any symbolism?

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>Not a dream, but a meam…er, meme

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Patricia at Communication Exchange tagged for a meme: 6 Unspectacular Quirks. The rules are as follows:
1. Link the person(s) who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about six unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag six following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged bloggers’ blogs, letting them know they’ve been tagged.

I followed rules 1 and 2 above, so here goes #3.

*Due to the excessive rain and heat lately, my compost bin stinks. It’s rotting at a record pace, which is good, I guess, but Phew, it’s aromatic!
*I snore. I’ve taken to wearing a breathing strip on my nose at night, and it seems to help. Some. *I buy too many books. I read them all, none go to waste, but it’s a weakness of mine.
*I speak a fair amount of Spanish, which is a handy skill for a teacher in my neighborhood where one third of the surnames on my class list are Mexican. Wonderful kids and families, by the way! *If I hadn’t become a teacher, I would have become a nurse.
*When school is out for the summer, it takes me at least a week to adjust to sleeping a little later in the morning.

Trust me, it’s painless. I tag:
Margalit, the creator of MidCentury Modern Moms at What was I Thinking?
Suburban Correspondent at The More, the Messier
Nina (my colleague at MCMM) at Voted off the Island
Ilona (another MCMM writer) at It’s Not All Mary Poppins
Janice (yet another MCMM-er!) at Chasing Myself

Okay, that’s five. Any other volunteers to make six? Leave a comment!

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>anonymity

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>I confess: I didn’t name my children Amigo and la Petite at birth. Husband has a name, and he complains that he wants to be called something more exciting on the blog.

I confess as well: I don’t blog about everything. Sometimes, despite blogging under creative names, I don’t want to vent about certain topics. Some things, no matter how entertaining they might be, need to remain private.

But anonymity on the blogosphere is dangerous in a way. Anonymous comments can be rude, spiteful, or worse. Many bloggers use comment moderation, personally approving all comments before they’re posted. Most blogs utilize codes to eliminate robot comments or program their comment boxes to reject anonymous comments.

That’s why when MomBlogs opened their new site, anonymousmom.com, I had mixed feelings. Anonymity can promote a false sense of safety or security. Ability to post without identity can lead to flaming, negativity, nastiness, and cyber-bullying.

I’ve enjoyed the MomBlogs, their blogrolls, and their new message boards. Their new site is billed as “No judgements, no advice, no husbands, children or even your own mother finding you. Simply your own place to let it all hang out!”

I’ll check this out, but with caution. How will they deal with the potential negative results of an anonymous message board? If it turns out to be a safe venue, it could be enjoyable.

If you’d like to check them out, the MomBlogs’ new Anonymousmom.com is here.

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One Child a year

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Beginning teachers want to change the world, put their hearts into their work, matter to someone, somehow. I’ve realized that there are limits, big limits, to the good I do through my teaching. And when it comes down to changing a life, having an impact on a child’s future, a wise co-worker told me to expect to make a difference once a year. One child a year.
At first it sounds callous, minimizing. Realize, however, that we’re not talking about everyday teaching. I teach the entire class to read, to write, to handle long division. But a life-changing impact? A difference that changes the route students will take, puts them on a path to success — or not — doesn’t happen nearly as often as idealists think.
Now, in my thirteenth year of teaching, I wonder who those children are and were. I may never know. A few may touch base with me again. Most won’t or can’t. Many don’t even realize that a teacher, any teacher, turned them around and set them in the right direction.
The victim of bullying who learned to take control might join the list. Then there’s the slacker with a high IQ who earned his first D or F and finally learned study skills. The late bloomer who discovered her favorite book ever on my shelves and realized she loved to read may feel that link as well. But those are the easy ones.
The child whose family was evicted from their apartment, the family I helped find services for the homeless, won’t ever know that I made a difference. Her parents are too busy keeping a roof over their heads and feeding the kids to think about teachers, and that’s exactly where their priorities belong. The depressed adolescents that I referred for help? The counselor made a bigger difference than I did, and again that’s just as it should be. The student who struggled with math and finally, finally “got” fractions under my watch, may be the one child for that year. Or not. It might have been the quiet student, the one who sat in the back and listened intently, absorbing everything he heard, but never saying a word.
So I keep on plugging, planning for the class, differentiating for those who need it, and hoping. I hope as well that maybe, just maybe, I made a difference for someone, somehow, each year that I’ve taught.

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