We are having fun discovering restaurants in Provo, and so far we have been to more Italian places than any other kind. We are too late for Ottavio's. I read the reviews about how good they were – even included it, though not by name, in one of my novels – but before we got here they closed to focus on catering, so maybe some time we'll still get to sample their food. Gloria's Little Italy was our kind of place - cloth napkins and music on the PA system that we recognized, not to mention the marvelous food. It's right on the corner of Center and University in downtown Provo, and there are three or four other Italian restaurants on the same block.
Last week we went to Carrabba's and were totally charmed. This is a rung above the Olive Garden experience. They start with a little dish of herbs the waiter sprinkles some olive oil on, and then you dip bread in the mixture. The bread was crusty and dense and wonderful with the herbs. At Tuscany, the fabulous Italian restaurant we like so much in Decatur, they combine parmesan cheese with oil for dipping breadsticks. When I told the waiter that, he said next time we should request the cheese. Anyway our waiter was delightful, especially when we told him this was our first trip to Carrabba's. He was very knowledgeable about the menu. I asked him what herbs were in the mix and he could list them all. I commented that although there were red pepper flakes in it, it wasn't overly hot. He said he liked that, too – "I'm a sad excuse for an Indian," he said. "I don't like hot food and I'm not in medical school." Later someone else came by and talked to us, who we assumed was probably the manager. Nice touch.
Today for lunch we went to the Pizza Pie Cafe, an Italian buffet. For a very reasonable price we had a salad bar, variety of pizza, pasta, and sweet pizza desserts. A good subtitle for this place would be Carb City. It was quite tasty, although the music was too loud and not to our liking. They had at least ten kinds of pizza, including cheese sticks to have with your pasta, and eight kinds of pasta, although whole wheat pasta wasn't included, and six kinds of sauces. I had spinach fettuccine with a very delicious carbonara sauce. Their dessert pizza flavors were raspberry, apple and peach cobbler, oreo crunch, cookie dough, and cinnamon strips. The crust was chewy and substantial, although some of the toppings were skimpy, i.e. one piece of chicken on a whole slice of pizza. All in all, kids would really like this place.
Our fall-back option is often plain old ordinary IHOP. I love their design-your-own omelet, which for me is usually bacon, fresh spinach and fresh tomatoes, and which is great any time of day. My guilty pleasure on the menu is chocolate chip pancakes. I often order them with a meal and then take them home for breakfast the next day. Their whole grain pancakes are also great. Instead of using syrup, I get the waiter to put a spoonful of strawberry topping on the pancakes instead. When I'm in a hot chocolate mood, I like IHOP.
Our exploration of local restaurants meanders on. There are a couple more Italian places to discover, and we haven't started in on the Mexican or Chinese food places yet, so we will continue to enjoy the serendipity.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
And Now For Something Completely Different
Joy Behar and Whoopie Goldberg decided recently in a conversation on national television that it's been a traumatic year for white people in America because they haven't got used to the idea of having a black president.
Talk about a credibility gap. Having these two beans-for-brains women give political commentary is like having Betty Crocker and the Pillsbury Dough Boy analyze a Shakespeare play. You have to be as dumb as a box of rocks either to believe them or to listen to them in the first place. To chalk up the “trauma” to racism or skin color is worse than shallow; it’s political attention deficit disorder. “Deep thoughts” from Joy and Whoopi are about like “Deep Thoughts” on Saturday Night Live.
If you want to talk about trauma in America in the past year, acknowledge that during this period of time there has been a concerted effort by this administration to dismantle the Constitution and fundamentally transform the country; it’s only coincidental that the ideologue behind it is black. He told us that’s what he wanted to do; and now people are shocked that he's doing it. And he lies. That tends to destroy trust, too. Furthermore, he doesn’t believe militant Islamic terrorists hate us enough to want to kill us. You can’t solve that problem with the kind of head-in-the-sand denial of reality that our foreign policy has become in the hands of this administration. Charm and charisma don't constitute dynamic leadership. We are in trouble. We need informed vigilance in the population and in elected officials. And we need to pray for our country daily.
Talk about a credibility gap. Having these two beans-for-brains women give political commentary is like having Betty Crocker and the Pillsbury Dough Boy analyze a Shakespeare play. You have to be as dumb as a box of rocks either to believe them or to listen to them in the first place. To chalk up the “trauma” to racism or skin color is worse than shallow; it’s political attention deficit disorder. “Deep thoughts” from Joy and Whoopi are about like “Deep Thoughts” on Saturday Night Live.
If you want to talk about trauma in America in the past year, acknowledge that during this period of time there has been a concerted effort by this administration to dismantle the Constitution and fundamentally transform the country; it’s only coincidental that the ideologue behind it is black. He told us that’s what he wanted to do; and now people are shocked that he's doing it. And he lies. That tends to destroy trust, too. Furthermore, he doesn’t believe militant Islamic terrorists hate us enough to want to kill us. You can’t solve that problem with the kind of head-in-the-sand denial of reality that our foreign policy has become in the hands of this administration. Charm and charisma don't constitute dynamic leadership. We are in trouble. We need informed vigilance in the population and in elected officials. And we need to pray for our country daily.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Coming Soon: Dancing in the Aisles
Yesterday was an anniversary of sorts. It's been one year since an orthopedic surgeon opened my left leg, removed the arthritis-damaged knee joint and put in a prosthetic. Now I can get around pretty well on my own, having advanced from walker to cane to independence. Walking is easier than standing, but Sunday I stood for half an hour to give a lesson. Shopping isn't that bad, and neither is walking through parking lots or the halls at church. On February 17 it's the first anniversary of the right knee, which turned out to be the more difficult of the two surgeries. I still haven't gotten used to being aware of the prosthetics. They are heavier than the bones they replaced, and I can still feel them. I still walk "older" than I am, but I'm so much better than I was a year ago. Continued exercise (all rehab all the time) will change that over time. I found out about a therapy pool near the hospital that's available to us for a slight membership fee, so we're going to check that out.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Oldie but Goodie #6 (holiday edition)
This essay from December 95 was years in the brewing. As a cautionary observation, it covers all holidays for which gifts are appropriate.
On Giving Gifts
Our discussion today, class, centers on the theory and practice of gift giving.
First, it’s important to recognize why you are giving a gift. Some gifts are given because the giver knows the recipient will allow the giver to use it - sweater, XBox, motorcycle. It’s multi-purpose, and therefore a great bargain. Giving something because you want your recipient to be delightfully surprised is another theory, but sometimes that can backfire on you, as was the case when my friend’s husband bought her a new house she neither needed nor wanted.
Yet another possible reason for gift giving is merely so the giver does not arrive empty-handed. That seems a harsh assessment perhaps, but I speak as a person who once received for my birthday, from a husband who shall remain nameless, two nail clippers, one for fingers, one for toes. It took my breath away. For some reason, Robert Burns’ observation from his poem To A Louse crossed my mind:
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us…
Later I marveled that it must have taken seconds of careful deliberation to make this decision, considering that one finds nail clippers displayed next to the checkout stand, along with flashlight batteries, tire gauges, breath mints, and Super Glue. With that in mind, I counted myself blessed, but you’ll understand why eight months later he received from me for his birthday a padded toilet seat – symbolic as well as useful. I also began to understand why the first Christmas gift he ever gave me was an apron. It was terry cloth, and domestic, which I was not, at the time, perceived as being. A new theory now emerges: gifts are sometimes hints, however broad or subtle the giver may want to be. It should be noted here, in the name of historical accuracy, that we were married a year later, five days after Christmas. Though I am now quite domestic, I still have the apron, but it’s rarely used.
Still another theory of gift giving, one I tend to embrace in most situations, is that the perfect gift is something the person needs and can or will use, but something they wouldn’t necessarily buy for themselves for whatever rational or irrational reason. I remember going Christmas shopping as a little girl with my grandmother, a skilled homemaker, to find something just right for my mother, a woman who didn’t have expensive possessions but appreciated beautiful things. With my limited spending potential, I looked for something pretty as well as useful. I found a miniature ceramic vase with purple pansies painted on the side. It cost 50 cents, right in my price range. Mother loved it for all the reasons I knew she would, and it fit nicely on the knickknack shelf in the kitchen where I often dusted it. It broke eventually, and we were both sad.
Years later, remembering that little purple pansy vase, I bought another vase for my mother, this time without pansies, but purple, and very tall, which I thought would be perfect for displaying a sample of the irises she grew in her yard. More years later, as she was cleaning the house in some hopeless attempt to sift out her packrat excess, she found the purple vase in the back of a cupboard, and since she hadn’t used it for a while, she gave it back to me. A big purple vase in my bland beige family room was hard to explain, but I didn’t really try. It was just there, and it made me smile. Corollary One of this theory now emerges: What goes around comes around, but the value increases with the miles and the years.
We’ve never had extravagant Christmases, either as children or in our marriage. In my husband’s family disappointment became an issue because expectations were too high, resulting in a knee-jerk bah-humbug attitude when the children became adults, at least the one I married. Maybe that’s because they always gave their gifts in the shopping bag in which they had carried them home from the store, perhaps the easier to return them should the need arise. This super-practical Scandanavian thrift, modest though it is intended to be, can admittedly take the starch out of special occasions.
In my family, Christmas was for surprises, thrills and heart-fluttering delights. Deep down I knew the chances were slim that I’d get anything from the list I made after hours spent poring over the Montgomery Ward Wishbook that arrived in October, full of tantalizing possibilities. I desperately wanted that bride doll, but other traditions usually took precedence, and my attention was diverted. Mother was busy making pfeffernusse and Mexican Orange Candy, and meticulously planning the Christmas dinner menu to include something we would all love, like raspberry punch. For our part, my sister and I usually made and decorated dozens of sugar cookies in endlessly dazzling ways. Our four younger brothers would hang around the kitchen door, saying they wanted to help, but we knew they really just wanted to snitch a cookie when we weren’t looking. We also tried to wrap gifts creatively and attractively, even the candy bars we put in our brothers’ stockings.
Dad would take us out to choose the Christmas tree on the afternoon of the 23rd or 24th, and Mother would decorate it after all the children went to bed so the first time we saw it was on Christmas morning. It was the kind of thrill so many of today’s jaded children have never known.
All that was in stark contrast to what many other families did. I’ll never forget, as a teen in the 1950’s, the day my mother came home from church shaking her head in disbelief at one of her friends bemoaning the fact that her husband’s business hadn’t done very well that year, and he was only giving her $5,000 to spend for Christmas on their four children. We rolled our eyes and wondered if we should notify the Salvation Army of this needy family.
Speaking as a person who does most gift shopping online from catalogs, or with gift cards, I sometimes think those wise men weren’t very wise to bring such expensive gifts; but on the other hand, we aren’t very smart when we don’t recognize the tradition as a symbolic gesture with deeper meaning. Too often we choose instead to race in a panic through a mall and land on whatever can be packaged suitably and will qualify as a gift – something, anything, even toenail clippers.
Happy gift giving this year. Keep it in perspective. Remember the padded toilet seat.
On Giving Gifts
Our discussion today, class, centers on the theory and practice of gift giving.
First, it’s important to recognize why you are giving a gift. Some gifts are given because the giver knows the recipient will allow the giver to use it - sweater, XBox, motorcycle. It’s multi-purpose, and therefore a great bargain. Giving something because you want your recipient to be delightfully surprised is another theory, but sometimes that can backfire on you, as was the case when my friend’s husband bought her a new house she neither needed nor wanted.
Yet another possible reason for gift giving is merely so the giver does not arrive empty-handed. That seems a harsh assessment perhaps, but I speak as a person who once received for my birthday, from a husband who shall remain nameless, two nail clippers, one for fingers, one for toes. It took my breath away. For some reason, Robert Burns’ observation from his poem To A Louse crossed my mind:
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us…
Later I marveled that it must have taken seconds of careful deliberation to make this decision, considering that one finds nail clippers displayed next to the checkout stand, along with flashlight batteries, tire gauges, breath mints, and Super Glue. With that in mind, I counted myself blessed, but you’ll understand why eight months later he received from me for his birthday a padded toilet seat – symbolic as well as useful. I also began to understand why the first Christmas gift he ever gave me was an apron. It was terry cloth, and domestic, which I was not, at the time, perceived as being. A new theory now emerges: gifts are sometimes hints, however broad or subtle the giver may want to be. It should be noted here, in the name of historical accuracy, that we were married a year later, five days after Christmas. Though I am now quite domestic, I still have the apron, but it’s rarely used.
Still another theory of gift giving, one I tend to embrace in most situations, is that the perfect gift is something the person needs and can or will use, but something they wouldn’t necessarily buy for themselves for whatever rational or irrational reason. I remember going Christmas shopping as a little girl with my grandmother, a skilled homemaker, to find something just right for my mother, a woman who didn’t have expensive possessions but appreciated beautiful things. With my limited spending potential, I looked for something pretty as well as useful. I found a miniature ceramic vase with purple pansies painted on the side. It cost 50 cents, right in my price range. Mother loved it for all the reasons I knew she would, and it fit nicely on the knickknack shelf in the kitchen where I often dusted it. It broke eventually, and we were both sad.
Years later, remembering that little purple pansy vase, I bought another vase for my mother, this time without pansies, but purple, and very tall, which I thought would be perfect for displaying a sample of the irises she grew in her yard. More years later, as she was cleaning the house in some hopeless attempt to sift out her packrat excess, she found the purple vase in the back of a cupboard, and since she hadn’t used it for a while, she gave it back to me. A big purple vase in my bland beige family room was hard to explain, but I didn’t really try. It was just there, and it made me smile. Corollary One of this theory now emerges: What goes around comes around, but the value increases with the miles and the years.
We’ve never had extravagant Christmases, either as children or in our marriage. In my husband’s family disappointment became an issue because expectations were too high, resulting in a knee-jerk bah-humbug attitude when the children became adults, at least the one I married. Maybe that’s because they always gave their gifts in the shopping bag in which they had carried them home from the store, perhaps the easier to return them should the need arise. This super-practical Scandanavian thrift, modest though it is intended to be, can admittedly take the starch out of special occasions.
In my family, Christmas was for surprises, thrills and heart-fluttering delights. Deep down I knew the chances were slim that I’d get anything from the list I made after hours spent poring over the Montgomery Ward Wishbook that arrived in October, full of tantalizing possibilities. I desperately wanted that bride doll, but other traditions usually took precedence, and my attention was diverted. Mother was busy making pfeffernusse and Mexican Orange Candy, and meticulously planning the Christmas dinner menu to include something we would all love, like raspberry punch. For our part, my sister and I usually made and decorated dozens of sugar cookies in endlessly dazzling ways. Our four younger brothers would hang around the kitchen door, saying they wanted to help, but we knew they really just wanted to snitch a cookie when we weren’t looking. We also tried to wrap gifts creatively and attractively, even the candy bars we put in our brothers’ stockings.
Dad would take us out to choose the Christmas tree on the afternoon of the 23rd or 24th, and Mother would decorate it after all the children went to bed so the first time we saw it was on Christmas morning. It was the kind of thrill so many of today’s jaded children have never known.
All that was in stark contrast to what many other families did. I’ll never forget, as a teen in the 1950’s, the day my mother came home from church shaking her head in disbelief at one of her friends bemoaning the fact that her husband’s business hadn’t done very well that year, and he was only giving her $5,000 to spend for Christmas on their four children. We rolled our eyes and wondered if we should notify the Salvation Army of this needy family.
Speaking as a person who does most gift shopping online from catalogs, or with gift cards, I sometimes think those wise men weren’t very wise to bring such expensive gifts; but on the other hand, we aren’t very smart when we don’t recognize the tradition as a symbolic gesture with deeper meaning. Too often we choose instead to race in a panic through a mall and land on whatever can be packaged suitably and will qualify as a gift – something, anything, even toenail clippers.
Happy gift giving this year. Keep it in perspective. Remember the padded toilet seat.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A Hearty Laugh
This morning I went for an EKG to see if the heart murmur my doctor heard is indicative of anything more serious. Roger did some errands, and when he picked me up, the conversation went like this:
ME: Well, the technician says I have the heart of an 18-year-old.
ROGER: Is that good or bad?
ME: I think it's good.
Roger: As long as it doesn't mean you're fickle...
ME: Well, the technician says I have the heart of an 18-year-old.
ROGER: Is that good or bad?
ME: I think it's good.
Roger: As long as it doesn't mean you're fickle...
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
My Two Favorite New Recipes
Just in time for the holidays. Both are great with turkey.
CRANBERRY CHUTNEY makes 3 C
In lge kettle bring to boil stirring constantly 16 oz. cranberries, 3/4 C packed bn sugar, 3/4 C raisins, 1/2 C chopped celery, 1 C chopped apple, 3/4 C water or OJ, 1/4 C coarse-chop walnuts, 2 T lemon juice, 1 T grated orange peel, 1/4 t cloves, 1/4 t cinnamon, 1/4 t allspice, 1/4 t ginger. Simmer uncovered 15 min, stirring occasionally. Store in fridge. Keeps several weeks.
CRANBERRY MUSTARD
Combine 12-oz pkg cranberries, 1-1/3 C sugar in saucepan, stir over med heat till sugar dissolves. Cook, stir till cranberries pop, about 5 min. Cool completely. Stir in 4-1/2 T Dijon mustard, 2-1/2 T whole-grain Dijon mustard, pinch of salt. Can make up to a week ahead. Cover and chill.
CRANBERRY CHUTNEY makes 3 C
In lge kettle bring to boil stirring constantly 16 oz. cranberries, 3/4 C packed bn sugar, 3/4 C raisins, 1/2 C chopped celery, 1 C chopped apple, 3/4 C water or OJ, 1/4 C coarse-chop walnuts, 2 T lemon juice, 1 T grated orange peel, 1/4 t cloves, 1/4 t cinnamon, 1/4 t allspice, 1/4 t ginger. Simmer uncovered 15 min, stirring occasionally. Store in fridge. Keeps several weeks.
CRANBERRY MUSTARD
Combine 12-oz pkg cranberries, 1-1/3 C sugar in saucepan, stir over med heat till sugar dissolves. Cook, stir till cranberries pop, about 5 min. Cool completely. Stir in 4-1/2 T Dijon mustard, 2-1/2 T whole-grain Dijon mustard, pinch of salt. Can make up to a week ahead. Cover and chill.
Friday, December 18, 2009
And now for a long winter's nap...
(Dec. 8) We are finished trippin'! It was fun while it lasted, but we're home and burrowed in while the snow piles up in the yard. It was so nice to get home in one hour instead of the usual three it takes to drive to Richfield. All the boxes were waiting for us, as promised, so we have tackled a few today. New furniture comes Thursday and Friday.
Our luggage got through seven trips to six airports in a month, but didn't get off the plane with us in Salt Lake. We reported it
missing and they tracked it down in Portland. I guess it just got used to going there. But Southwest rerouted it and delivered it
this afternoon. Oh, great. Now I've got something else to unpack. Actually, I might just toss it out. It's fairly traveled this year
and might like to be released with a vote of thanks.
It was a month full of activity. We saw hilly Morgantown, West Virginia (six miles from the Pennsylvania border - Roger's
brother lives there; there's one mile of road that's straight)... ate lunch at an Amish restaurant in Maryland near a stone bridge
built in the 1700's as part of the first national highway (discovered in the restaurant gift shop an Amish romance novel and
couldn't resist buying one)… flew out of Pittsburgh on a commuter plane, climbing up five steps from the tarmac to get in,
sitting on row seven of nine rows… interesting (bumpy) experience… waited in Cleveland longer than we were in the air both
legs of the trip, took another plane (a little larger) to Rochester, where Jen met us… went to the Sacred Grove, the Smith
family home, saw the Palmyra Temple, drove to the (almost) top of the Hill Cumorah, had lunch at a local restaurant next to
the Erie Canal, and then visited the EB Grandin building in Palmyra – completely fascinating…in Jen's ward, introduced
ourselves for the first time as being from Provo – it's beginning to sink in… went to the George Eastman house to see a display
of gingerbread creations… fabulous place… went to Wegman's, a huge grocery store where the deli has about 100 kinds of
cheeses… saw Lake Ontario, Seneca Lake, the Elizabeth Cady Stanton home in Seneca Falls where the women's movement
began (Bedford Falls, the town in "It's a Wonderful Life," is said to be patterned after Seneca Falls – totally charming)…went to the Whitmer farm in Fayette...shopped at an Amish store, ate dinner at an Amish restaurant… fed ducks on the Erie Canal and found a pizza joint loaded with local color and great food… drove to Buffalo in torrential rain… sat in the airport an extra 45 minutes due to the computer glitch in Salt Lake that messed up the whole flight schedule across the country… met Randy and Elin in the Chicago airport; they went to school board meetings while we drove their car back to Decatur, stopping along the way to meet Roger's brother Loren and his wife for lunch… did what I have not done since 1961 - got up for early morning Seminary; I drove Kayla there and waited for her, then took her to school while Roger got Courtney up and out the door for the school bus… I drove to Bloomington to pick up Randy and Elin at the train, which was an hour late because it hit some debris on the tracks and couldn't go fast… got a perm… helped Elin get ready for Thanksgiving… Jen and Kevin and kids arrived Wednesday… Jen and Elin went to O'Hare to pick up Jordan and Heather on Thursday while the rest of us (well, some) fixed dinner… had a fabulous meal… laughed ourselves silly… the kids all got along well… had "Christmas" on Saturday, which means listening to Christmas music while decorating the house, then eating Danish rice pudding and opening the resulting pudding prizes… Jen and Kevin left Sunday morning… wandered through furniture stores in a little Amish town about 40 miles from Decatur, marveling at the craftsmanship, bought some pumpkin bars and cheese at a local bakery and cheese shop, found the sequel to the Amish romance novel, went to the Amish bulk foods store where Elin gets so many of our unusual Christmas presents – ever had peach flavor Danish Dessert, or apricot or blackberry Jello?…got up early to go with Elin to take Jordan and Heather back to Chicago, dropping them off at the el station in the heart of the South Side, a pretty scary place, but they were together, and it was daylight, and it was quicker than fighting traffic to drive all the way to O'Hare on the north side… bought a new coat… attended the Millikin College Christmas Vespers on Sunday night… got out of Midway Airport ahead of the blizzard, but got into some serious weather at the Denver stopover… de-iced, got to Salt Lake an hour late, got the shuttle and were delivered on our doorstep (covered with 5 or 6 inches of snow) at 9 too keyed up to sleep.
We didn't get to do everything we wanted to do – Jen planned to take us to Niagara Falls but the kids were sick so we changed
the itinerary – but now we have an agenda for our next visit. I love upstate New York so I expect to be going back a lot. Jen is
in the Palmyra Stake and lives 40 minutes from the Cumorah Pageant locale. We want to go back in good weather, but we
would also like to do a fall color tour in West Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York. Falling Water, the famous home designed by
Frank Lloyd Wright, is in the Pennsylvania hills a couple of hours from Morgantown. It was Monday when we visited, and the
place is closed on Mondays. Next time for sure.
Our luggage got through seven trips to six airports in a month, but didn't get off the plane with us in Salt Lake. We reported it
missing and they tracked it down in Portland. I guess it just got used to going there. But Southwest rerouted it and delivered it
this afternoon. Oh, great. Now I've got something else to unpack. Actually, I might just toss it out. It's fairly traveled this year
and might like to be released with a vote of thanks.
It was a month full of activity. We saw hilly Morgantown, West Virginia (six miles from the Pennsylvania border - Roger's
brother lives there; there's one mile of road that's straight)... ate lunch at an Amish restaurant in Maryland near a stone bridge
built in the 1700's as part of the first national highway (discovered in the restaurant gift shop an Amish romance novel and
couldn't resist buying one)… flew out of Pittsburgh on a commuter plane, climbing up five steps from the tarmac to get in,
sitting on row seven of nine rows… interesting (bumpy) experience… waited in Cleveland longer than we were in the air both
legs of the trip, took another plane (a little larger) to Rochester, where Jen met us… went to the Sacred Grove, the Smith
family home, saw the Palmyra Temple, drove to the (almost) top of the Hill Cumorah, had lunch at a local restaurant next to
the Erie Canal, and then visited the EB Grandin building in Palmyra – completely fascinating…in Jen's ward, introduced
ourselves for the first time as being from Provo – it's beginning to sink in… went to the George Eastman house to see a display
of gingerbread creations… fabulous place… went to Wegman's, a huge grocery store where the deli has about 100 kinds of
cheeses… saw Lake Ontario, Seneca Lake, the Elizabeth Cady Stanton home in Seneca Falls where the women's movement
began (Bedford Falls, the town in "It's a Wonderful Life," is said to be patterned after Seneca Falls – totally charming)…went to the Whitmer farm in Fayette...shopped at an Amish store, ate dinner at an Amish restaurant… fed ducks on the Erie Canal and found a pizza joint loaded with local color and great food… drove to Buffalo in torrential rain… sat in the airport an extra 45 minutes due to the computer glitch in Salt Lake that messed up the whole flight schedule across the country… met Randy and Elin in the Chicago airport; they went to school board meetings while we drove their car back to Decatur, stopping along the way to meet Roger's brother Loren and his wife for lunch… did what I have not done since 1961 - got up for early morning Seminary; I drove Kayla there and waited for her, then took her to school while Roger got Courtney up and out the door for the school bus… I drove to Bloomington to pick up Randy and Elin at the train, which was an hour late because it hit some debris on the tracks and couldn't go fast… got a perm… helped Elin get ready for Thanksgiving… Jen and Kevin and kids arrived Wednesday… Jen and Elin went to O'Hare to pick up Jordan and Heather on Thursday while the rest of us (well, some) fixed dinner… had a fabulous meal… laughed ourselves silly… the kids all got along well… had "Christmas" on Saturday, which means listening to Christmas music while decorating the house, then eating Danish rice pudding and opening the resulting pudding prizes… Jen and Kevin left Sunday morning… wandered through furniture stores in a little Amish town about 40 miles from Decatur, marveling at the craftsmanship, bought some pumpkin bars and cheese at a local bakery and cheese shop, found the sequel to the Amish romance novel, went to the Amish bulk foods store where Elin gets so many of our unusual Christmas presents – ever had peach flavor Danish Dessert, or apricot or blackberry Jello?…got up early to go with Elin to take Jordan and Heather back to Chicago, dropping them off at the el station in the heart of the South Side, a pretty scary place, but they were together, and it was daylight, and it was quicker than fighting traffic to drive all the way to O'Hare on the north side… bought a new coat… attended the Millikin College Christmas Vespers on Sunday night… got out of Midway Airport ahead of the blizzard, but got into some serious weather at the Denver stopover… de-iced, got to Salt Lake an hour late, got the shuttle and were delivered on our doorstep (covered with 5 or 6 inches of snow) at 9 too keyed up to sleep.
We didn't get to do everything we wanted to do – Jen planned to take us to Niagara Falls but the kids were sick so we changed
the itinerary – but now we have an agenda for our next visit. I love upstate New York so I expect to be going back a lot. Jen is
in the Palmyra Stake and lives 40 minutes from the Cumorah Pageant locale. We want to go back in good weather, but we
would also like to do a fall color tour in West Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York. Falling Water, the famous home designed by
Frank Lloyd Wright, is in the Pennsylvania hills a couple of hours from Morgantown. It was Monday when we visited, and the
place is closed on Mondays. Next time for sure.
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