The glorious 4th!!!

 Happy Independance Day everyone.  When my west coast brother texted me earlier today, he posed this question. "If, when Yankee Doodle went to town, a-ridin' on a pony, he did indeed stick a feather in his cap and call it macaroni, was he calling the cap, the feather or his pony macaroni? And why would he call any of those things macaroni?"

Of course this made me curious so I did a little research and here's what I found. 

Macaroni archaic definition:

Definition: (noun) a man whose principal interest in life is to be fashionable (archaic)

Example: Sir Edward Malfreney was a perfect macaroni, with sparkling shoe buckles and a powdered wig so high he could hardly walk upright through doorways.

Quote:

“Yankee Doodle went to town,
Riding on a pony,
He stuck a feather in his cap,
And called it macaroni.”

- Revolutionary War era song

As the definition states, a macaroni was a dandy. Rich, young, eighteenth-century Englishmen traveled to Europe and brought back continental fashions, often extreme ones. And they formed their own society, called the Macaroni Club, whose existence was first recorded in 1764. The Oxford English Dictionary suggests that the name of the people came from the name of the club, not the other way around. (And yes, they also brought back continental food, so the name of the club was related to the then “exotic” Italian pasta.)

So back to the holiday, the reference in Yankee Doodle is ironic. Such decadent clothing was both impractical and hard to come by during the War of Independence, and the British were ridiculing colonials for their provincial fashion sense. 

So now you know.  And now that the melody is no doubt firmly set in your mind, feel free to sing, whistle or hum it all day long.  

It's puzzling???

 I may have mentioned in a previous blog that my wonder spouse and I really enjoy putting together jigsaw puzzles.  We have completed two 2,000 piece puzzles but we really prefer the 1,000 and 500 piece ones.

Our puzzle table is in our finished basement under a bright light. A really good work space.  Since it's lovely and cool in the basement on a hot summer day it's a perfect place to spend time when our "must do" jobs are finished.

What makes me think that we may be reaching "obession" level with this hobby is the fact that we have started preserving and framing our masterpieces.  At this time we have seven completed puzzles preserved and hanging on our basement walls. It's very easy with thin sticky backed sheets of plastic that you can spread on the backs of puzzles to hold all the pieces permanently together.  Then we frame them in inexpensive poster frames from Michael's and hang them up.

This is our most recently finished puzzle.  (Sorry about the reflection in the picture.) Only partly because we are running out of wall space in the basement, we have decide to hang this one on our bedroom wall.  It is a very bright and cheerful picture.

But I recently got to thinking - what on earth are our children going to do with all these puzzles when we die.  We're not getting any younger you know.  I suppose we could will them to our kids and grandkids (one each).  That would take care of 14 puzzles.

Or we can just leave them hanging on the walls and let someone else worry about it.  Enough musing.  My spouse is waiting for me to join him in the basement.

Half time...

This will be a very short blog.  My wonder spouse and I are too busy watching FIFA World Cup soccer to think about our regular routine. I really do enjoy watching soccer, it goes so much faster that American football. 

It does bring back a funny memory though.  When my grandson was five years old and his little sister was three, they were playing beginning soccer for very young players.  The scene firmly fixed in my mind is my grandson racing up and down the field (not sure if he ever actually kicked the ball) while my granddaughter quietly sat in the middle of it all picking dandelions.  

What can I say? Not all of us are meant to be athletes.

What to wear???

 My ever helpful west coast brother has informed me that today is National OOTD day.  Outfit Of The Day - I had to look it up.  I find this an interesting day because I am one of those people who like to plan ahead and know what they are going to wear tomorrow, depending on what the plans are for the day.  I also like to plan ahead as much as possible when I'm packing for a trip.

I start sometimes weeks ahead of an upcoming trip gathering clothes into a nice empty guestroom closet.  Our last trip was a real challenge because we would be traveling for a month and in places that ranged from 80 degree highs (Tokyo) to 55 degree highs (Alaska).  The key of course is layers and my spouse and I find vests very convenient - lots of pockets - no need for me to carry a purse.  

For most of our excursions off the ship I wore jeans and the same layers on top, a tee-shirt, my faithful Scotts vest, my burgundy hooded sweatshirt and my waterproof rain jacket (also a Scotts product with lots of pockets).   

When we got off the ship in Alaska for land excursions we were required to carry our key card for our stateroom, which was used to record when we got off and back on the ship, thus assuring that no one would be left behind, and a legal ID like a driver's license or passport. 

One afternoon, as my wonder spouse and I were ready to get back on the ship I discovered, after a frantic search through all the pockets in my jeans, vest and jacket, that I had not brought my ID with me.  What to do?  My spouse volunteered to go to the ship, get my license and bring it back while I waited.  It wasn't raining or anything so I was willing to wait, but after a little discussion one of the young men there to assist pasengers back on to the ship (about a 10 minute walk away) simply escorted us back to the ship, and made sure I could go aboard without my driver's license.  

All of this was done with the cheerfulness that every Viking crew member demonstrates.  Another reason that I will always travel with Viking. 

a story from my youth...

 Our ride on the canal boat yesterday reminded me of a memory from my youth that I would like to share.  After my sophmore year in high school I had a summer job as a house keeper/cook for an elderly lady (she was probably the age I am now).  I would stay with her all week and go home (only a few miles away) on weekends when one of her grandchildren would stay with her.

It was not a hard job.  Mrs. F was not a demanding person except for her unfortunate liking of breakfast at 6:00am.  When we were not busy we would talk and I really enjoyed her stories of what life was like when she and her husband (long since passed) had first moved to their 80 acre farm.  This would have been in the late 1800s.  I'm not sure what the price of farm land in north east Indiana was at that time but I'm pretty sure it wasn't very much. 

A side note here, when I worked for her, Mrs. F had just sold 75 of her 80 acres to BF Goodrich for a very handsome price (or so I was told).  Goodrich built their plant on what had been her land and a couple of years later many of my classmates got their first jobs after high school graduation there.  A few went on to spend their entire working life with BF Goodrich. 

But back to Mrs. F's story.  When she and her husband first moved to their farm the Wabash and Erie Canal ran along one side of their property.  Years later we could still see the remnants of the canal in the deep ditch on the north side of Highway 24.  

She told me that all of their furniture and farm equipment was delivered by canal boat.  The boat would stop at their landing and unload everything they had ordered.  I found it so fascinating that she had lived through an era in history that we had learned about while studying Indiana History in school.  

Born about 1880, died about 1964, imagine all the changes she had seen in her life.  

One more note about the canal.  When my west coast brother, who is 10 years younger than I am, was about five years old our family was driving along Highway 24 and my dad commented that the deep ditch along the road was the site of part of the old canal and that it had all been dug out by hand.  "Weren't they allowed to use shovels?" asked my brother.  

Sweet Breeze

 I know I said that, after our recent three week North Pacific Viking cruise, my wonder spouse and I would not be cruising again any time soon.  In fact I may have implied that that was our last cruise ever.  

Yet here we are, home only a week from our trip, and we went cruising again today.  Granted it was only a 90-minute cruise on a replica of a canal boat from the late 1800s, but still we were on a vessel moving over water.  The Saint Joe and Saint Mary's rivers to be specific. 

By the way, do you know the difference between a ship and a boat? The captain of our ship on our recent cruise made very sure that we understood that we were on a ship not a boat.  A ship carries boats (life boats, tenders etc.), a boat does not.  

But getting back to today's cruise, we were definitely on a boat, not a ship. The docent was very informative and we learned a lot about Fort Wayne history from the 1600s on.  

An inside view of the boat.  It's a flat bottom boat, very stable.

I couldn't get a good picture of the full length of the boat but these pictures give you an idea of what it looked like.

I highly recommend a ride on the Sweet Breeze.  I also recommend, if you're going on the 90 minute cruise, that you take along a cushion.  Those wooden chairs are hard. 

old enough...

 I should have known better.  I am old enough and experienced enough to know better, but some lessons seem to need to be learned over and over again.

Here's the lesson I should have learned long ago.  Don't try to chew a Milk Dud.  It is far better to simply let them dissolve in your mouth, and they last longer. 

I just relearned this lesson by biting into a Milk Dud.  If you're not familiar with Milk Duds, they are nickle-sized mounds of caramel coated in chocolate.  Quite delicious actually, but made to eat cautiously because caramel is sticky stuff.

It's late Saturday afternoon now, and I'm not in any pain, but Monday (hopefully) I will be seeing my dentist.  He will be pleased to know that I saved the crown, and, after cleaning off any lingering bits of caramel, he will reattach the crown to the appropriate molar.  

Lesson learned, hopefully for the last time.  Of course I should never eat Milk Duds again, or caramels of any sort, but I am making no promises.