Souvenirs, Part 1

My photography critique group’s assignment last month was to submit three photos inspired by song or book titles. I’ve already shared one of those photos in my post, “Secrets Revealed” — the one called “Chelsea Morning,” which was inspired by a song by Joni Mitchell. Today I’ll show you my photo titled “Souvenirs,” inspired by the song and cd by John Prine.

If you’ve never heard of John Prine, I highly suggest you listen to him singing “Hello in There,” and then listen to Brandi Carlile sing it, too (with an amazing introduction by Stephen Colbert). Don’t be put off by Prine’s voice, which I’ll admit isn’t the best. It’s his honest, down-to-earth persona and absolutely devastating lyrics that get me.

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about him:

 John Edward Prine … was an American singer-songwriter of country-folk music. He was active as a composer, recording artist, live performer, and occasional actor from the early 1970s until his death. He was known for an often humorous style of original music that has elements of protest and social commentary.

… Widely cited as one of the most influential songwriters of his generation, Prine was known for humorous lyrics about love, life, and current events, as well as serious songs with social commentary and songs that recollect sometimes melancholy tales from his life.”

Wikipedia, Nov. 9, 2022

Sadly, I never got to see him perform live. He passed away from COVID-19 on April 7, 2020. But before he died, I’d listened to his “Souvenirs” cd many times. I’d sung along to it in the car so often that I’d memorized all of the lyrics and most of the little inflections in his voice.

I decided to use the song, “Souvenirs,” for my photo assignment. I knew I had a stash of memorabilia in my guest room closet (I’d recently been in there looking for something), so I went back in and retrieved a handful of ticket stubs. Here are just a few of them:

These ticket stubs really brought back some good memories. For example:

The Kinks at Melody Fair, 1995

I remember Ray Davies entering the stage wrapped in a British flag, and the excitement of hearing him and, I believe, his brother Dave, performing all their greatest hits from the 60s. I particularly remember his energy. And now, every time I listen to “The Kinks Choral Collection,” an album of Kinks songs Ray sings with a symphonic orchestra and full chorus of backup singers, I feel that energy.

No, not that kind of chorus.

It’s this kind of chorus:

And, believe it or not, they blow the roof off of “All Day and All of the Night” and “You Really Got Me.”

Rent, Nederlander Theatre, NYC Theater District, May 27, 2001

In 2001, my daughters (ages 17 and 21 at the time) and I took an all-girls vacation to New York City. I’m not from the BIG city, so it’s always a thrill for me to go there. We had fun and saw lots of Big Yellow Taxis, the kind Joni Mitchell wrote about.

It was my 17-year-old who suggested we see the musical “Rent,” and we managed to nab cheap tickets that very day. The production was great. My favorite song was “Seasons of Love” (“525,600 Minutes”). Seeing “Rent” had a major impact on my daughter’s decision to become a social worker, which she still is to this day.

In the next installment of “Souvenirs,” I’ll share more memories jarred loose by seeing these ticket stubs. Which ones do you want to hear about next?

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This is post #9 of the month-long challenge known as #NaBloPoMo or #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, please click below where it says “Follow loristory.”

And, to read more of the NanoPoblano posts written by the supportive blogging group “Cheer Peppers,” click the image below.

Lucky to Live in the ROC (Part 5)

Welcome back for the fifth and final installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC.” After Part 4‘s mad-dash adventures in pizza tasting, coffee drinking, and mural gazing, I’ll bet you’re ready for a nice relaxing drive through the autumn hills of upstate New York.

But first, a note: November is National Blog Post Month (#NaBloPoMo), when dedicated bloggers everywhere try to post a little something every day. Throughout the month, I’ll be writing daily posts until I run out of ideas – which could be tomorrow. 🙂 Luckily, I’m part of a Facebook group (NanoPoblano) that cheers each other on by reading and commenting on each others’ posts. To read NanoPoblano posts, just join the NanoPoblano Facebook group or type NanoPoblano in the WordPress search field.

Now for those autumn hills:

Letchworth State Park

A beautiful upstate New York destination – especially in the fall – is Letchworth State Park, 40 miles south of Rochester. Due to its scenic gorge carved out by the Genesee River, the park is known as the “Grand Canyon of the East.” The photo below was taken at Inspiration Point, where you can take in the view of both Upper Falls in the distance and Middle Falls. (Lower Falls can’t be seen in this photo.) It’s just a short drive (or fairly easy round-trip hike) from one waterfall to the next, with plenty of parking areas, and even a snack bar close by. I visited the park on a Sunday, and even though it was a weekend, it wasn’t crowded at all.

After admiring the view, I turned around and looked up at the trees. They seemed to be communicating with each other (which, according to Peter Wohlleben in “The Hidden Life of Trees,” they actually do). These trees literally inspired me to go home and write a song about them. I call it “Listen to the Trees.”

Trees at Inspiration Point

Here’s a closer look at Upper Falls:

Upper Falls

The photo at the top of this post (above the title) is Middle Falls.

Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area

About 35 miles south of Rochester, you can hike through Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area and get a lovely view of Honeoye Lake, one of the eleven Finger Lakes.

Honeoye Lake

Look around and you’ll see even more to admire there: leaves, park buildings, a hornet nest (yikes!), and even a gray squirrel or two. Full disclosure: the squirrel was perched on a fence in nearby Dansville, which I visited later in the day, but somehow he jumped into this scene. I’ll forgive him for acting so squirrely.

Harriet Hollister Spencer State Recreation Area

This sure was a good year for fall colors. The hills seemed to be alive with brilliant reds, oranges, and golds, especially when the sun hit them just right. I’m glad I got outside with my camera in October, because the leaves are dropping quickly now.

Speaking of which, I have a new camera! Although the above photos were taken with my older one (a Nikon D3200, considered “entry level” among DSLR cameras), future posts will show my attempts at learning to use my new Nikon Z5 in “manual” mode. Stay tuned!

If you’d like to follow me to see how long I last in the #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”

Thanks, and happy November!

Lucky to Live in the ROC (Part 4)

Welcome back for another installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC,” the ongoing series in which I write about upstate New York attractions in and around Rochester. In the last episode, I promised you an epic road trip in search of the perfect pizza, and some unexpected artwork, so here goes:

The Pizza

On a recent road trip through upstate New York, I stopped in Geneseo, a quaint college town thirty miles south of Rochester, and discovered “Mama Mia’s Pizza.” The pizza was so amazing – thin and crispy, with great-tasting sauce – that I returned a few weeks later with a friend for another slice. This time, I didn’t just get great pizza, I got a great cup of coffee, too.

When I ordered my coffee, the woman behind the counter said they’d make a fresh pot. “Okay,” I replied, wondering if I was causing them too much trouble as I began to eat my pizza at a table outside. Pretty soon, a young man came out. “I’m going to make you a cup of Costa Rican coffee.” “That’s fine,” I said.” About ten minutes later, I’d finished my pizza and was wondering if I’d ever get my coffee. Suddenly, the coffee man came out with a steaming cup.

“I ran home and got some beans,” he explained. “I bought them at the Rochester Public Market, they’re great.” And he’d come back to the shop and ground them just for me. Wow. It was the BEST cup of coffee I’ve had in a long time.

I didn’t take a picture of my pizza because it disappeared too quickly, but it looked something like this:

This is NOT Mama Mia’s pizza. This image is from neciodesalida @ Pixabay.com.

And here’s a sign I saw in a Geneseo shop window.

Store owners were encouraged to put inspirational signs up during a mural festival.
Keep reading to learn more about that.

The Unexpected Artwork

In 1914, Robert Frost wrote “Mending Wall,” a poem about a wall that divided his orchard from his neighbor’s forest. “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” he wrote. But in Livingston County, New York, the residents love their walls so much that, last July, they commissioned some artists to paint murals on them, and then they held the Livingston County Mural Festival to show them off.

The colorful walls are actually the sides of buildings, one for each of the nine villages in Livingston County. I hadn’t heard about the murals, but on our way home from Mama Mia’s Pizza, my friend pointed out of his window.

“Cool,” he said. “I’d like to photograph that.” We parked on Main Street and gaped at the mural for a while.

Geneseo, NY. Artist: Key Detail (Andrei Krautsou & Julia Yu-Baba)

Soon, a woman approached us. I thought she might have been the mural’s artist, eager to talk about her work. But she was just a helpful citizen who wanted to tell us all about the festival.

Like the friendly coffee man, she momentarily ran off and returned bearing a gift: a small booklet detailing everything you ever wanted to know about the festival, including maps and the painters’ names. That day, we made it our mission to visit each and every one of the Murals of Livingston County.

I know that sounds like “The Bridges of Madison County,” but please do NOT mistake this essay for that book. If you’ve ever been forced to read “The Bridges of Madison County,” or if, like me, you were just curious to see how bad it was, I’m sorry to bring it up.

But hey, who am I to judge? I just binge-watched eleven episodes of “Virgin River,” where almost every scene ends with a warm embrace and this stunning dialogue:

“I love you.” “I love you, too.”

I can’t wait for Season Five! And no, I’m not being sarcastic!

But I digress. Here are two more murals of Livingston County. I’ve actually been to four others to date (Avon, Caledonia, Leicester, and Lima), but I lost the photos! It’s the first time a memory chip has failed on me (besides the one in my brain, that is). It’s disheartening, but I can always go back and take more photos. I think the murals will be there for a while.

Dansville, NY, my birthplace! Artist: Arlin Graff

Nunda, NY. Artist: Matthew Mederer

Next time, I’ll post recent photos of Mother Nature’s artwork: the colorful autumn leaves I’m seeing everywhere. Stay tuned!

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Featured image by Wilfried Pohnke @ Pixabay.com.

Lucky to Live in the ROC (Part 2)

I’m back with another exciting installment of “Lucky to Live in the ROC,” an ongoing series in which I extoll the virtues of my hometown, Rochester, New York.

(Bonus tip: Scroll to the bottom to see the CUTEST PICTURE EVER TAKEN OF MY DAUGHTERS, and then return here to continue reading.)

Part 2: HIGHLAND PARK

Highland Park

When I first moved to Rochester as a child, I immediately noticed the abundance of trees.

Maybe my impression was colored by the fact that my former street was a busy four-lane highway, and my new address was on a quiet road covered by an arc of leafy elms. But to my twelve-year-old mind, Rochester was a green oasis compared to the drab Buffalo suburb I’d come from.

I soon discovered many lovely parks in and around Rochester that supported my first impression. And, of all the parks in the area, Highland Park turned out to be my favorite.

Highland Park was designed in the late 1800s by Frederick Law Olmsted (the designer of New York’s Central Park). Its 150 acres are located within the city limits. It’s an arboretum that showcases more than 1,200 lilac shrubs (over 500 varieties), as well as magnolias, rhododendron, azaleas, and many other beautiful plants, while maintaining a natural, flowing vibe. It also features an amphitheater, Highland Bowl, that is used for outdoor movies, theater productions, and music concerts.

Highland Park is a great place to visit in the spring, when many flowering plants are at their peak. For a guide to what’s blooming when, click here.

A Lilac Festival is held in Highland Park each May, with music, art, food, and – of course – lilacs.

Winter in Highland Park can be a good time for photos, too, until your fingers get numb from the cold.

Here are my top three memories from past visits to Highland Park:

#1: Attending a Sarah Vaughan concert in the 1980s at the Highland Bowl amphitheater. Fun fact: My daughter Erica (age 1 at the time) came along with me. About 30 years later, we learned that her husband, Richard, had been there, too. Coincidentally, they tied the knot at Warner Castle, located IN HIGHLAND PARK! Could their fate have been written in the stars that night?

photo credit: stux (Pixabay)

#2: Seeing Herman’s Hermits there during the 1990s. Somewhere in my archives, I have a blurry snapshot of Peter Noone (taken by me) singing “I’m Henery the Eighth, I Am.”

Peter Noone, then …

… and more recently

#3: Taking my daughters there to see the flowers. One year, on Mother’s Day, a reporter noticed Katie and interviewed her. She was on the news that night!

Erica, age 8; Katie, age 4

Well, I guess you can see why Highland Park is special to me. I think I’ll go there today and take more photos.

Tip: Follow me so you won’t miss the next fascinating episode of “Lucky to Live in the ROC,” in which I’ll discuss the FOURTH-OLDEST ROLLER COASTER IN THE WORLD!

Two Bridges and More

Inspired by a recent post by my friend Mary (“A Bridge Too … High!”), I’ve decided to post something about bridges, too.

While Mary’s article is about a bridge in Ireland; mine is about two bridges in Italy.

And, while hers is witty and thoroughly entertaining, mine is more along the lines of “here are some photos of bridges, and here is all I can think of to say about them at the moment.” Oh well. One can’t always be witty and entertaining!

I hope you enjoy the photos, and that you’ll check out Mary’s blog as well.

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, Italy, 2017:

Ponte Vecchio (“Old Bridge”) is aptly named; it’s over 1,000 years old! (The first written record of it is from the year 996.) These days, it’s lined with shops, and tons of tourists. I just noticed that there are at least six bridges in this photo!

Gazing at this picture brings me back to the moment when I captured it. I’d just toured the nearby Uffizi Gallery. In fact, I was standing inside the gallery when I took the photo, looking down at the Arno River. It was my first trip to Italy (first time in Europe, too). I’d flown there from Tucson, Arizona with a small travel group (only eight of us). Together, in just one week, we visited several interesting and beautiful sites around Tuscany, including Florence, Pisa, San Gimignano, Lucca, and Siena.

On my last day of the trip, I took a 20-minute bus ride from the outskirts of Florence, where we were staying, into the city, all by myself, just so I could absorb some of the local culture and language on my own time. It was an amazing experience. I could barely speak a full sentence in Italian, yet the people on the bus (who barely spoke English) helped me out when I wasn’t sure which was my stop.

My day of solo museum-hopping (which included a delicious three-course lunch – meat, pasta, tiramisu, and of course vino) went by much too quickly. At about 5 p.m., after standing at the wrong bus stop for ten minutes, I discovered my error just in time to catch the last bus back to the hotel. I wasn’t the least bit nervous. It was a friendly, warm, and welcoming place, and gorgeous, too.

Ponte Sisto, Rome, Italy, 2019:

Two years after my first trip to Italy, I had the chance to go again with the same tour group. This time there were only four of us, and we were going to study Italian in Sicily for a week! After the week was up, rather than flying home directly from Sicily, two of us opted to spend two extra days in Rome. I mean, how could I possibly skip seeing Rome when I had the chance? (I LOVED Rome and hope to return some day.)

Ponte Sisto (the bridge pictured above) has a long history. From what I can gather from my online search, there was a bridge on this site in the 4th century known as Pons Aurelius. It was partially destroyed in 772 when Rome was attacked and taken over by a Lombard king, Desiderius. In 1473, Pope Sixtus IV commissioned the rebuilding of the bridge. It is now only for pedestrians and spans the Tiber River in Rome’s historic district. I didn’t realize it when I took this photo, but that’s the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica (in Vatican City) in the background!

* * * * * * * *

This isn’t the first time I’ve written about bridges. My post, “Bridges in Literature,” will bring you up to speed on the many appearances of bridges (or lack thereof?) in books, songs, and movies. Here’s a sneak peek at the photo I used in that article. It’s a bridge somewhere in southern Arizona:

* * * * * * * *

One last thought: The “featured image” at the top of this post is a blue and yellow banner in honor of Ukraine. These days, I’ve been thinking a lot about the bridges there, and about how so many thousands of innocent victims of the Russian invasion are trying to cross them to safety.

This post is dedicated to the brave people of Ukraine.

* * * * * * * *

If you haven’t already done so, please check out my brand new book, “Wordle Poems: A Poem a Day for Wordle Nerds,” on Amazon. It contains 30 original poems inspired by the daily act of Wordling. No spoilers! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

For more of my writing, visit my author page over at Bardsy, as well as my book, “Standing in the Surf,” on Amazon. It’s a photo journal about the Pacific Northwest area known as the Salish Sea, which includes Whidbey Island, Vancouver Island, Stanley Park, Butchart Gardens, and more.

New Latitude, Episode 4: Tossin’ and Turnin’ in Tucson

If you’ve been following my current blog series, New Latitude, you’ll know I’m moving 2,000 miles northeast, and that my offer on a house I’ve seen only via the internet was accepted. I don’t usually toss and turn, but buying a house like this, and moving across the country in the middle of a pandemic, can change a person. And I have no one to blame for my recent sleepless nights but myself.

Oh, and I also blame my upstairs neighbor, a young guy who plays loud music, has squeaky floors (and a squeaky bed), and owns a shrill alarm clock that wakes me up at five a.m., five days a week. I’m really looking forward to getting out of here, and into my own home, where I can sleep as late as I want to and play my own loud music!

Last week I closed on the house, and I’m now the proud owner of … well … we’ll find out just what it is that I’m the proud owner of in about four weeks, when I finally get to set actual eyes on the place.

I realize I’m one of the lucky ones, seeing as I’m retired, I’m healthy, and I’ve managed to secure an appointment for my first COVID vaccine. But meanwhile (or quarantinewhile), here are some of the challenges I’ve been dealing with regarding my upcoming move:

• New date! The mortgage company changed the closing date and gave me about a week’s notice to get my banking act together. Inconveniently, that week included a federal holiday (MLK Jr. Day) and the U.S. Presidential inauguration (which I also thought might be a bank holiday). I needed an in-person appointment to withdraw my funds, and appointments that week were scarce! On top of that, my lawyer didn’t know the exact amount I needed to send him yet. I managed to secure an appointment on a Tuesday, learned the final amount on Wednesday, and the wire transfer went through on Thursday. That part had to be requested by me using an online form. The confusing instructions I was given referred to a “title company” but, being just a regular human being, I did not know what that was. I took a guess that it was the bank holding my mortgage, and pressed “send.”
• Not signed? After I electronically signed one of the necessary forms, the person at the other end said it wasn’t signed, although it was … I checked … and I wasn’t able to sign it again. It all got sorted out eventually.
• Am I insured? My homeowner’s insurance account listed two different effective dates. When I called it to their attention, they said it was just a glitch and not to worry. Right! Tell that to my pillow when I’m crying into it at night!

• Misspelling! My realtor’s name was spelled wrong on one of the forms (the bank’s error) and needed to be retyped during the closing.
• Whew! The wire went through, the forms got corrected, the closing was conducted on Friday via FaceTime … and after an hour of signing papers, I was congratulated on being a new homeowner! At least I think I was … it’s all a blur.
• Vaccination Plans! I’d been hoping to get both COVID vaccines here in Arizona before I moved (I’m in group 1b) … then because of the delays in vaccine distribution, I thought I’d get the first one here, then get the second in New York. Luckily, I checked this plan with the hotline in New York and they said no, I’d have to get both in the same state. I was able to get an appointment for the first one in New York, even though I’ll have to drive 300 miles from my new home to the vaccination site.
• Managing the Move: I then spent countless hours determining how and when to leave Arizona (and who would move me). I needed a spreadsheet and flow chart to time my arrival in New York early enough to factor in a 10-day quarantine (required by the state), settle into my new home, and then drive to my vaccine appointment.
• Moving Supplies: Normally I would just go to grocery stores, ask for empty boxes, and drive to U-Haul for other supplies. But as we know, things are not normal. I ordered boxes, tape, and bubble wrap online and got to work packing, taping, and labeling. I ran out and had to re-order. May have to do it again!
• Anti-COVID Supplies: I bought a good supply of masks (I’m planning to double-mask), sanitizer, gloves, wipes, etc. I also made a list of food and supplies to bring in the car, in order to minimize stops along the way.
• AAA SNAFUs: I called AAA for route suggestions and a list of COVID-safe, pet-friendly hotels, and they were glad to oblige. Unfortunately, they snail-mailed the info to one of my old addresses. They also said they’d email me a copy. I never received either. When I contacted them again, they said they’d re-send the email with my correct address (but didn’t). When I called a third time, they finally got it right.
• Snow Patrol: I’d probably be driving through snow, so I bought a snow brush and ice scraper on Amazon, ordered more warm socks, and checked to make sure I knew where my gloves and hat were hidden. We don’t use them too often here in Tucson, but we do on days like this:

• Car Headaches: My car dealership had recently recommended that I buy two new tires and change my differential fluid (they wanted to charge me $700). I decided to go to my trusted mechanics down the road instead. When they saw my car, they informed me that I do not need two new tires and that they could not in good conscience sell me any. Further, my differential fluid was very clean and did not need to be changed. I then purchased a tire tread gauge (curbside pickup!) and double-checked the tire tread depth myself — and triple-checked by taking the car to a second tire store (again, curbside service!) — and everyone agreed that the dealership was trying to rip me off. I paid $50 for some new windshield wipers and an air filter and felt just fine about never returning to my car dealership again.

For the record, I’m not holding any of these SNAFUs against anyone, because I know times are tough and people are overworked, underpaid, and doing the best they can.

And even though I’ve been tossing and turning, I’ve recently discovered a way to cope! And I owe my new attitude to three excellent documentaries. Which ones, you ask?

Well, I hate to leave you hanging, but this blog post has gone on long enough. Please stay tuned, because very soon I’ll be blogging about those three documentaries, and how they improved my attitude. See you during the next exciting installment of New Latitude!

New Latitude, Episode 2: Do’s and Don’ts

Previously, on New Latitude:

After having moved from upstate New York to Tucson, Arizona seventeen years ago in search of a decent climate and better job, I’d come to a realization. I’d had my fill of blue skies. I was sick of sunsets that bathed the mountains in rosy hues each night. I hated wearing sandals in January. Authentic tacos were the worst. And all those darned hummingbirds! I longed for upstate New York, where the winters are brutal, the summers are humid and mosquito-filled, and there’s only one hummingbird – the ruby-throated – to identify, if it ever shows up at all.

Ruby-throated hummingbird. Image by Susan Killian @ Pixabay

No wait … none of that’s true, except for the first sentence. Rewind!

What I really meant to say was this: I’ve loved living in Tucson, but the pandemic had called a sudden halt to my regular flights back home to New York State to see my family. Who knew when I could travel there again? Call me loco, but I decided to relocate – to Rochester, where I’d be within a day’s drive of my entire immediate family. Sure, winters would be less than wonderful, but I could at least gaze upon my family’s frozen faces in person, instead of on a computer screen. Besides, the lease on my apartment was coming up for renewal. It was time for a new direction, so I took my first baby step: “Zillow-surfing.” 

And now for Episode 2: Do’s and Don’ts (of buying a house)

Zillow-surfing brought me up close and personal with hundreds of houses, without ever having to set foot in them. I got to see the good, the bad, the ugly, and in some cases, the dirty laundry. Through Zillow-surfing, I made some major decisions, like:

— rent vs. buy

— 1 bath vs. 2

— ¼ acre vs. 10 acres and a barn

— fenced yard backing up to private woods vs. unrestricted view of the auto body shop next door.

Image by Harald Dona @ Pixabay.

Once I’d narrowed my choices down, I started to get excited. But the more excited I became, the more impulsively I acted. I guess I got carried away and ignored common sense.

If you, too, are considering buying a home, here’s some unsolicited advice:

1. DON’T rule out renting an apartment before buying a house you’ve seen only on the internet. Photoshop can give houses an instant makeover that’s even more amazing than the ones you’ve seen on Fixer Upper.
2. DON’T cancel your Disney Channel and Hulu Plus subscriptions in the hopes these sacrifices will enable you to afford a house above your means. You’ll soon come to regret your decision, especially if you haven’t seen enough of “Cuomo Prime Time” or “Hamilton” yet.
3. DON’T fool yourself into believing you’re a skilled negotiator. You’ll just be disappointed in yourself.
4. DON’T buy a house in a “hot market” city, especially if it happens to be during a “seller’s market.”
5. DON’T waive an engineering inspection.
6. DON’T commit to making up the difference between the purchase price and the bank appraisal.
7. DON’T mail a sizable deposit to the seller without confirming you’ve written the check on the correct bank account — the one with sufficient funds — and not the other one, the one with only $33 in it.
8. DON’T buy a house in the winter and plan on leaving the house vacant until spring. Pipes in vacant homes have been known to freeze and burst.
9. DON’T buy a house during a pandemic without knowing when a vaccine will be available. You’ll want protection while driving cross-country, and I’m not talking about a bodyguard (although that would be nice).
10. DON’T buy an 8-foot couch and two recliners immediately before deciding to move.

By the way, I’m guilty of all of the above.

Image by Gerd Altmann @ Pixabay.

Oh, and DON’T hire a moving van without shopping around. Luckily, I HAVE been shopping around, and the estimates differ wildly — as in a low of $2,800, and a high of — don’t laugh — $14,000. That’s not a typo! “Two Men and a Truck” wanted to charge $12,000 to $14,000 to move a two-bedroom apartment. That must be some classy moving truck they have. And speaking of trucks, did they think I just fell off a turnip truck?

Yeah, those are pumpkins, not turnips. Good eye!
Image by Sweethearts82 @ Pixabay.

On the plus side, interest rates are low right now, so I took the plunge. I bid on a house, and my offer was accepted. And don’t worry, I think I got a sweet deal, an engineer looked at the house before I bid on it, the bank waived their appraisal, the check eventually cleared, and I’m hoping the vaccine will become available soon … for everyone’s sake.

Yes, moving is going to be a pain, and yet I feel good about my decision. Sometimes you just have to take a chance and DO some of the DON’Ts.

Tune in again next time for the next exciting episode of New Latitude, in which I’ll reveal the outcome of my mortgage application! (It’s still a mystery to me.)

Oh My Gluten (Free)

My sister is flying across the country tomorrow to visit me. She’ll be staying with me for five whole days. YAY! I love family visits. I don’t get them very often, so I hope to make the most of it, with the usual food, fun, and frivolity.

She’s gluten-free (and I’m not), so that just adds to the fun of preparing for her stay. I’m not being sarcastic. I actually enjoyed my gluten-free scavenger hunt at Trader Joe’s tonight. I googled “Trader Joe’s gluten free” and found a list that included these yummy items. (I can’t wait to try that almond cashew macadamia drink.)

For dessert, we can snack on Lara Bars. I love the cashew/date ones. I hope she leaves those for me. Actually, they’re the only ones I’ve tried. That lemon bar looks good right now. Hope I can wait till she gets here.

I also bought some fruits and veggies, and made a centerpiece to welcome her into my home. Luckily, my sister gets my sense of humor.

Is wine gluten-free? Oops. I just might have to consume these all by myself.

I KNOW these aren’t gluten free. Impulse purchase!

Tucson is an International City of Gastronomy, which means we’ll definitely be going out to sample some gluten-free tacos, tamales, burritos, salads, baked goods, and Margaritas while she’s in town. I’ve got my Best of Tucson issue on the coffee table so we can find all the best places.

Needless to say, I might not be posting anything for the next five days. But after that, I just might have some food photos to share!

This is post #5 (but who’s counting?) of NanoPoblano2019. Don’t know what NanoPoblano2019 is? Just click the link! It’s gluten-free, too!

 

Dona Nobis Pacem

The Roman Colosseum, built between 72 A.D. and 80 A.D., is a symbol of brutality.

It is widely believed to have been built by tens of thousands of slaves. During some of the spectacles, it is said that 10,000 animals were slaughtered in a single day. Gladiators fought to their deaths and criminals were executed, all for the sheer entertainment of crowds of 50,000 or more. It is not my favorite place.

In fact, I never was very interested in Roman history, or in seeing the Colosseum. But when I was in Rome for two days in September with someone who did want to visit the Colosseum, I said, “sure, why not,” and went along.

It’s big. It’s old. And it’s kind of shocking to be strolling along on an ordinary cobblestone street, turn a corner, and there it is, looming over everything. Kind of spooky, actually.

But for me, the most compelling part about the Colosseum was the fence around it — a fence that was covered with children’s colorful drawings calling for peace. I loved the contrast.

Maybe there’s hope for this world yet.

This is post #3 for NanoPoblano2019. Click the link to read some other posts from a wonderful bunch of dedicated bloggers known as “cheer peppers.”

 

 

 

Grandma’s Friendly Village

My grandmother Angeline was born in central Sicily, in a small village with the beautiful name “Villarosa.”

In 1910, at age 8, she emigrated from Sicily to America with her own grandmother, got married at age 16, quickly had five bambinos, and was widowed at 30. She later remarried and had a good life, but she never got to see Villarosa again.

Here she is at about age 30 (I’m guessing).

I liked going to Grandma’s house. She always seemed cheerful, and she served us plenty of macaroni, ice cream, and raspberries, saying the word “mangia” practically as soon as we’d walked through her door. Her house was decorated with colorful starched doilies that she’d crocheted herself. I wonder if she crocheted the collar in the above photo. I have a special memory of the two of us sitting in a summer garden next to some pansies while she taught me to crochet.

Although Grandma never talked about her childhood (probably because I never asked), I’d always wondered what Villarosa was like. About a month ago, I finally got to see it for myself.

I’d signed up for a 5-day Italian language immersion program in Taormina, Sicily, mainly so I could learn about my Sicilian roots and visit Villarosa. Luckily, our group leader and two other students also were interested in seeing more of Sicily, so we rented a car on day 6 and headed for my grandmother’s home town.

Villarosa (pop. 4,824) is on the outskirts of Enna. The two cities couldn’t appear more different. Enna (left), seen from a distance, was a glittering city on a hill, while Villarosa (right) was its poor, dusty cousin. But Villarosa, as it turned out, was AMAZING.

I’d Googled “Villarosa” the day before we set out and learned a surprising fact: It’s kind of well known for its man-made lake, a popular fishing destination. And the man-made lake was the result of the building of Ferrara Dam. OMG, I thought. Grandma’s maiden name is Ferrara!

Here’s the dam, the lake, and me:

After parking in town, we looked around, hoping to find a place for lunch. Directly across from our car there was a restaurant, complete with group of Italian men deep in conversation. It looked like something out of a movie. Then I noticed the sign above the doors: F.lli Ferrara (Ferrara Bros.). And on the doors, the initials “LB.” Grandma’s maiden name, and my initials!

We didn’t want to interrupt the men (OK, maybe we did feel a little intimidated) so we walked on down the block. Seeing a small, elderly man nearby, one of our group asked (in her newly-learned basic Italian) where we could eat. The man pointed down the street and rattled off directions in Italian. Then, probably realizing we didn’t capice, he escorted us all the way to tiny “Casa Mia.” It wasn’t open yet, but they welcomed us in. No one who worked in the restaurant spoke English. I ordered bruschetta and risotto (in Italian).

Suddenly, a family of about 20 people entered. It was an 80th birthday party! We smiled and nodded at them. A woman (angel?) from their group approached our table and asked (in English!) what had brought us to Villarosa.

“My grandma’s from Villarosa,” I said. “I was hoping I might find some family here.”

“I’m an interpreter!” she said, handing me her business card. “I can help you.”

After I provided my Grandma’s name, and what I was pretty sure were Grandma’s parents’ names, she made a few phone calls, and within an hour I was sitting across the table from Gaetano Ferrara, owner of the Ferrara Bros. restaurant that we’d seen before lunch. His grandfather and my great-grandfather shared the same first and last names. It’s possible we’re cousins.

Gaetano spoke no English, but, with the help of the interpreter, I was able to ascertain that his brother, Pietro, owned a gelato/cannoli shop in town, and would be there at his shop to meet us! Mamma mia! It doesn’t get much better than that. But then it did. On our way out of the restaurant, the owner treated us all to shots of grappa and limoncello, on the house.

When I learned that the limoncello was homemade, I asked if they’d be willing to share the recipe … and they did. And yes, that alcohol is 90-proof.

The hospitality didn’t end there. When we got to Pietro’s store, we were all treated to free gelato and cannoli. Here I am with Pietro Ferrara, another possible member of my family tree.

After returning home, I discovered that Ferrara is a common name in that part of the world, so I’m not sure if Gaetano and Pietro are my cousins, but it doesn’t matter. It was an amazing trip, one I’ll never forget. I’m so happy to know that my roots include such a warm and welcoming town. And I’m still in touch with that lovely interpreter, who has offered to translate a letter for me so I can get in touch with the folks at the Villarosa town hall to learn more about my relatives.

For now, ciao until next time!

P.S. This is my first post for the 30-day November blogging challenge known as NanoPoblano2019. Our challenge is to write for 10 days, read others’ posts for 10 days, and share our posts on other blog sites for 10 days.

Please click this NanoPoblano2019 link and read some of the wonderful posts from other members of our little writing group.