Lighting Up the Night

After a particularly grueling day of work this past week, I took a moment to gaze out at the darkening sky from my second story window.

photo attribution below

It was a beautiful summer evening, and the sun had just dipped below the horizon. A soft breeze was wafting my way, and I breathed it in, sighed, and let go of some of the tension that had built up. That's when I began to notice little glimmers, sailing across my back yard, like pixie dust. They were fireflies.

Some people call them lightening bugs, but I've landed on fireflies because I'm a writer and susceptible to pretty words. The name "fireflies" sounds light and beautiful, and I think of faeries and magic when I hear the word.

But I digress.

Apparently, I'm not the only one smitten by these flying luminaires. There's an attraction in Johor Bahru, Malaysia, called Kota Tinggi Firefly Park. For a nominal fee, you can take a nighttime cruise down the river and see thousands of fireflies. 

Sometimes you have to stop and acknowledge that the smallest beauties in this world are just as awe-inspiring as the biggest displays in nature. 

And short blogs can be just as good as long, bombastic ones. Plus, they're a quicker read. 

You're welcome!

Photo attribution: Nicky Case, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

Lights Out

photo attribution below

I was finishing up some work Thursday evening when the lights flickered and failed. 

Damn, there goes the wifi.

So, I turned on my phone and set up the hotspot. Oh, the joy of modern technology. I was able to complete my last task of the day. By the time I'd finished, power had been restored. Huzzah!

Outside, a storm continued to rage, hurling hail and rain at the windows, making a click, click, click noise. I sent up a quick request to the powers that be to spare our house and automobile from major damage. Things got pretty intense, with trees bending into unnatural poses and debris swirling about. 

The tempest went through pretty quickly, and I was relieved to see that everything seemed to be okay. Settling down to watch my latest binge-worthy episode of Doc Martin, I was lulled into a sense of all-is-right-with-the-world.

As the show hit the climactic final scene, however, the image on the screen disappeared. The lights came on. Then off. 

I waited. Only darkness. Damn.

Unplugging everything that could be harmed by a surge, I went to join Mr. Ginley, who was in the process of unplugging his laptop. He'd already fetched a flashlight and was in default crisis mode, a la, "I can't open the refrigerator, and we're all going to die, etc."

I do jest. Just a bit. Mr. is calm in a crisis, although this certainly wasn't life-threatening or anything. "What does Facebook say?" he inquired. 

I had already alerted the electric company, although I was pretty sure it was a widespread outage. As I predicted, someone had started a thread on the neighborhood FB page, with folks reporting from different neighborhoods on the status of their power. The outages were not confined to our neighborhood, and the consensus seemed to be that the lights would not be coming on anytime soon.

We sat around the glow of a flashlight for a bit, then I fetched our little battery-powered lamp and started working on a jigsaw puzzle. It was getting close to bedtime, but I knew sleep would be elusive because the humidity was stifling. So I continued to work until I felt I could lapse into unconsciousness.

As I lay in the darkness waiting for sleep, I was fascinated by the total silence. Aside from an occasional car, there was a vast nothingness that was lovely and scary at the same time. It was a reminder that we depend too much on modern conveniences, that they distance us from ourselves. 

Enveloped in silence, I drifted off to sleep. 

At around 3:30 am, my brain kicked in, and I started to plan where I was going to go to work that day. Should I just go to the office? Or maybe the local library? Should I take Mr. with me or just bring him provisions?

After ten minutes of these ruminations, the lights came back on. The refrigerator kicked in. Normalcy was restored. I turned off the lamp and went back to sleep. Later I learned that few streets over, a tree had been struck by lightning, caught on fire and fallen on the electric wires, causing the power to fail.

The next morning, I reset the TV, plugged in the computers and returned to my regularly scheduled programming. 

But a niggling feeling remained – that we're so dependent on technology for both necessities and comforts in life that a few hours without it felt like an eternity. What would my ancestors have thought about me? 

"Big wuss," probably.

Not that I'm willing to cut the power anytime soon, mind you...

Photo attribution: See page for author, CC BY 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Old News

Mr. Ginley was scrolling through YouTube the other night when he came across an old TV news broadcast from 1970.  

not the actual newscaster. photo attribution below.

It was WTOP's "The Big News," at 6pm, broadcast from Washington, DC on October 23rd. I listened in as I did my jigsaw puzzle and was fascinated by both the similarities and differences in the newscast compared to today's reporting.

What struck us immediately was the no-nonsense approach the newscasters had. There was no happy talk about how Bob's weekend went or what Carolyn's kids were up to or what Jack thought about last night's Dean Martin Variety Show. It was all news and only news.

"Hey, check this out," Mr. Ginley said, pointing to the screen. The sports reporter was holding up a handwritten sign showing his predictions of the next day's football game scores. Later on, the weatherman proudly displayed a primitive weather map and a Doppler-esque "Radar Weather Watch."  Pretty groovy.

The newscast ran for an hour, but there were considerably fewer commercials, which we enjoyed watching. Included were ads for VO5 Hairspray, Dristan and Kate Smith shilling for Chase & Sanborn coffee. 

As to the similarities between the news content of yesteryear vs. present day, Mr. and I both took note of how people are asshats and nothing really changes. The news topics included the usual mayhem surrounding drug use, disappointing diplomatic relations with Russia, civil protests, gun violence and infighting among politicians. Swap out the names, and the stories were pretty much the same as they are today. 

I imagine my Dad disseminating the news, grumbling about the world going to hell in a handbasket and wondering how his kids would fare in the years to come.

Some things never change.

P.S. Max Robinson, who was one of the reporters in this broadcast, became the first African-American broadcast network news anchor in the U.S.

Photo attribution: Scott Vincent (copyright holder), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

See the full newscast on YouTube.

Sunrise, Sunset

Looking back, my childhood was shaped by man-made patterns. Or rather, "mom-made" patterns.

when all else fails, show a cat pic

Each day of the week, Mom established set tasks. Monday was laundry day, Tuesday was ironing, Wednesday was grocery shopping, Thursday and Friday were cleaning days. On Saturday, my Dad pottered around the house, fixing anything that needed fixing. Saturday night was bath night. Sunday was church day, we had a big mid-day meal, then Mom checked out. 

Week after week, year after year, the routine seldom varied. There was a rhythm to having your life scheduled, a certain comfort. A way to somehow control that which cannot, in the end, be controlled at all.

I recognize that as grownups, Mr. and I have developed our own patterns. Sort of.

As a work-from-home employee, my weekdays are pretty much all alike. I rise, feed the cat, exercise, eat breakfast and start working. I take a break to shower or make lunches or clear my head between tasks. 

Meanwhile, Mr. holds down the home front with his weekly routine chores. 

On the weekends, we do the libraries. I write my blog on Saturday morning. I have breakfast with my kid on Sunday, and that's the day I go grocery shopping.

While routine is just how we roll, it's really not the "living" part of life. I pause here and look out the window. It's lovely out. Maggie cat is stretched out, lazing in a few rays of sunshine. Birds are calling to one another. There's the sound of a distant train. And in my head, I hear Connie Schultz instructing me to "breathe." 

So I do. 

Having a routine is all well and good, but it's the bubbles of light in between that make everything worthwhile.

How Sweet it Is

Well, maybe we can't afford to travel the globe, but we can certainly hit the high spots in our little town.

Welcome to Candyland

This week's adventure took us to the movie theatre and an oversized sweet shop.

First off, we went to see Asteroid City at the multiplex. We hadn't seen a movie since before COVID. (Funny how everything these days is referred to as "pre-COVID" vs. "post-COVID.") 

But I digress.

We purchased our tickets, grabbed the requisite popcorn and Raisinets, and plopped down in the last row of seats in the theatre. Note to self: Next time, choose a seat in the row ahead of the last row so I can see the whole screen when I recline. 

I don't really know how to describe the movie. It was a visual feast, but there really wasn't a plot. Much like real life, it just sort of happened. If you can go to a movie and just be in the moment without expecting anything, this is the show for you. We both enjoyed it very much, and it was definitely something to see on the big screen. Best of all, the crowd was sparse, so we didn't have to deal with rude noises or disruptions.

Next, we headed to Bob Evans for lunch. I had my usual skillet breakfast, while Mr. Ginley enjoyed the French toast. Once sated, we got into the Ginleymobile and headed to Candyland (aka "b.a. Sweetie.")

For the uninitiated (and I do feel sorry for you), b.a. Sweetie is a combination candy warehouse/ice cream parlor/miniature golf facility. 

We took full advantage of all that was offered.

First off, I kicked a little butt playing mini golf. Well, not exactly kicked butt, more like squeaked by with one less stroke. Also, we played the easier of the two courses. We were behind a mom with three little boys, so we did a lot of waiting while they knocked the ball around. Still, except for the Canadian smoke that lingered in the air, it was a nice way to spend time outdoors.

Next, we wandered through the candy warehouse among chocolate bars, suckers and all manner of candy and soda pop. Admittedly, I got carried away, and we ended up with more goodies than was good for us. (I say "us" but mostly it was "me.") It was fun to toodle down the aisles and remember fondly all the candy of our childhood – stuff like Bonomo Turkish Taffy, wax lips and Beemans gum. Plus all the Pez you could ever possibly want. And oversized bags full of sugary goodness. Honestly, we were lucky to get out of there without experiencing a sugar-induced coma.

Speaking of which...our next stop was the ice cream parlor. There we partook of malteds, while I sat on a large wooden swing that reminded me of the one my Dad hung in the garage for me when I was little.

No dinner for us that night (if you don't count the sugary treats we dug into when we got home).

Were we done yet? Not quite. On the way out, we noticed there was a thrift store next to b.a. Sweetie. Time to hunt for treasure! We didn't go too crazy, but I did find three jigsaw puzzles (just what I needed, right?), and Mr. Ginley found some books (just what he needed), plus a few household goods. 

Time to go home and feed the cat before she gets really pissed!

So, no, unless we win the lottery, we won't be cruising the Caribbean or visiting the Taj Mahal anytime soon. But we will be taking advantage of all the good stuff our little town has to offer.

Pass me the Pez, please!

What a Rube

At the intersection of innovation and hilarity you'll find Rube Goldberg.

Goldberg was the master of creating complicated solutions for simple tasks. Want to wipe your face with a napkin? All you need are a couple of spoons, a cracker, parrot, cup, bucket, yardarm, lighter, rocket, sickle and a clock. 

Easy peasy.

In reality, Rube Goldberg was a cartoonist, author, engineer, sculptor and inventor who created over 50,000 cartoons. In 1948, he won the Pulitzer Prize for political cartooning.

So, why the sudden fascination with Rube Goldberg?

Mr. Ginley and I went to the Maltz Museum yesterday. They're currently hosting an exhibit celebrating Goldberg's work. Much of it was geared toward kids, with interactive Goldberg-like setups. They showed videos of others who had set up Rube Goldberg contraptions. There's even an annual Rube Goldberg Machine Contest for kids 8-18 to encourage STEAM education. 

We toodled through and enjoyed the show, but it left me wanting to know more. I was most intrigued by Goldberg's cartoons that explained the step-by-step antics. There were several hilarious asides that are easy to miss of you're not paying attention. Suffice to say, I'll be looking for a book at the library. 

After we finished with the Rube Goldberg portion, we turned our attention to An American Story, the core exhibit at the Maltz. As it turned out, we spent way more time there. Mr. Ginley and I parted ways. I tend to breeze through museum exhibits, reading things that catch my eye. He reads every single thing, which means we didn't see nearly all there was to see. We'll be going back again. 

As we headed for the exit, I paused in front of one display. I'm not sure what made me stop and read. It was a plaque that talked about my friend, Rachelle's, Mom, Silvia Malcmacher. She and Rachelle's Dad were both holocaust survivors. They showed Silvia's postwar ID card and told a little about her. There was so much story in that one little photo. I know from Rachelle that she was an amazing, loving woman, a mother and grandmother who's missed every day. 

After a quick stop at the museum store where I bought a coffee cup I didn't need, we headed for lunch at Corky and Lenny's, a Jewish deli that's a Cleveland institution. It was our first experience, and they did not disappoint. Mr. had a barbecue brisket sandwich, and I had latkes. Yum!

It was definitely worthwhile schlepping to the east side of town!

Oy gevalt! Another coffee cup.

Cutting Back

Five words I never thought I'd hear Mr. Ginley utter: "You gave me too much."

my kind of recipe book

For the past several months, I've been taking my recipes and shimmying them down, and the results speak for themselves: Mr. has taken off 20+ pounds. 

I wish I could say the same for myself. The trouble is, even reducing the quantity of food I prepare, there are still leftovers. Which I consume the next day for lunch. Which means I'm having two big meals a day instead of one.

This is simply not working.

So...I must go back to the drawing board and look for new recipes. They must meet the following requirements:

• Make enough for two servings: Yes, I have managed to cut down existing recipes, but it's not always straightforward. (e.g. 1/16 cup)
• Use common ingredients: Mr. Ginley found a recipe from Gordon Ramsey the other day for kale salad that sounded good to him. However, I was stymied at the supermarket when I tried to find something called "Little Gem Lettuce." Also, if it uses little bits of lots of stuff, that's problematic. (Example: I buy a whole bunch of parsley for a recipe that calls for 2 tablespoons.) 
• Be easy to make: Yes, I'm working from home, but by the time I'm done for the day, I'm not up for fussy prep work.
• Be quick: I'm all about crock pot meals. Otherwise, it's gotta be done toot sweet. If I'm chopping ingredients for more than 15 minutes or simmering for more than 30, you can fuhgettaboutit.
• Pass the Food Approval Committee: Honestly, I should have started with this one. If my better half doesn't approve, the recipe is dead in the water. I can usually tell by looking at it if it's something he'll eat or not. (Anything with tofu, funky cheese or gravy is a non-starter.) But he sometimes surprises me (a la the aforementioned kale salad.)

Given that it's grilling season, many of our meals can be cooked outdoors, so that helps. It's easy enough to choose a smaller cut of meat. 

In the meantime, if anyone has any favorite recipes for two, please feel free to share with the class. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one cooking for two who would appreciate some new stuff to tickle the tastebuds.

Photo attribution: National Archives and Records Administration, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons