WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, the weather folks had been predicting all along that we’d have a windy Wednesday, and, sure enough … they were right. In fact, as I write this blog post, the wicked winds are still raging, with the occasional gust up to 38 mph.

But, the weather folks also mentioned that the high wind advisory would not begin until 10:00 a.m.; they were a tad off on that prediction.

I figured I had the perfect window of opportunity to go for a stroll and return before Mother Nature turned on the industrial-sized fans.

I was happy to escape for a walk, having been held hostage by sprinkles and spritzes which wreaked havoc with my morning walk two days in a row. That rainy weather got me thinking that we had flipped the calendar from the month of March and were having April showers.  But, March eventually resurfaced, complete with its infamous high winds.

When I left the house, the winds were already humming along at about 20 mph. As I shut the door, it caught in the wind momentarily, so I  jiggled the screen door handle to ensure it shut properly, simultaneously patting my hat in place, firmly down over my ears, just in case the wind sent it airborne.  You might recall that a few years ago, while walking at Council Point Park, a gust of wind sent my beret airborne, just like a Frisbee, and, it flew over the Ecorse Creek, hooking onto an old branch.

Just like today, it was a hold-onto-your-hat kind of day.

I headed over to Emmons Boulevard, as the Park would have been way too windy with all its open spaces. As I crossed the footbridge, there were about twenty Canada Geese milling about, some in the water, and a few had climbed up onto the homeowner’s lawn that is adjacent to the Creek.  They were strutting around, not giving one whit if it was crazy windy out there or not.

I got a few blocks past the footbridge and a terrific gust of wind pummeled me and I had to stop and actually stand in place to keep my balance. Yikes!  Time to turn around and head home.  The wind siege apparently had begun already, and, all the way home, those occasional gusts were so strong, they threatened to knock me right off my feet.  I was happy to get to my street, and hurried up the driveway and into the house.

The extraordinarily high winds got me thinking about an incident with a black felt fedora many years ago, and that hat is pictured above.

I had a below-the-knee, gray dress coat, with a fox-trimmed collar and lapels. Since it was a dressy coat, I got a pair of black leather boots, black scarf and black kid gloves to accessorize it.  But, that ensemble needed a hat, and not just a beret, or wool cap like I usually wore in the Winter elements – no, that coat needed something with a little pizzazz and flair.  So, I bought this black fedora with the bright feather in the band.  It had sash straps as well, which enabled you to convert the hat to tie it under your chin.

To wear this hat stylishly, one had to adjust it on their head just so. For me, that was a little hard since I had long hair, and, tucking all that hair, plus the sash straps inside the hat and out of sight, made it difficult to keep the hat sitting right on my head and not rocking back and forth.  In fact, I soon discovered, I couldn’t talk much, or even chew gum, or the hat would slowly start rising off the top of my head.  Not a good look.

It sure wasn’t practical for taking the bus, so I only wore the coat and its accessories on special occasions.

And, yup – when I wore it, I thought I was “all that”, like when my grandmother and I went to Midnight Mass one year. It was a cold and frosty December 24^th, and, there we were, walking arm-in-arm, alongside all the neighbors from St. Clarens Avenue, as we headed en masse up that steep climb to Dundas Street and St. Helen’s Church.  My grandmother never missed Sunday mass, and everyone on the street attended St. Helen’s, so there would be visiting, catching up and gossiping about the past week as we ascended the hill.

Just before we were ready to leave, we put on our heavy coats, then our hats. My grandmother was wearing a black pillbox hat.  She wagged a finger at me and warned that my exposed ears were going to freeze since my long hair was all tucked up out of sight, and handed me a big woolen scarf to wear instead.  But vain me, of course, would not hear of it.  Instead, I plopped the fedora on my head defiantly, to which Nanny said “not only will you freeze your ears off, that silly hat is going to fly off your head when we walk up the street.”  She marched over to her bureau, opened a drawer and pulled out a worn burgundy velveteen box and slowly pulled out a long pin with an ornate rhinestone rosette on the pinhead.  “Here” she said.  “This hatpin will do the trick and keep your hat on your head where it belongs, so you can concentrate on the service, and, besides, it will be handy if anyone gets smart with you!”

She carefully wove that hatpin through the hat, and my hair, as I tried not to grimace when she jabbed my scalp more than once.

Then we set off to join the procession up the street to Midnight Mass.

Well, no one got smart with me, and my hat stayed intact, even though I lost that hatpin somewhere on the way home. I retraced our steps on Christmas Day when it was light, and, it was nowhere to be found.

I have never worn that black felt fedora since that night. It has languished on the top of the cedar closet, sealed in a clear plastic bag, some thirty odd years, until I took it down to take this picture.

P.S. – Since writing this 2017 post, I have digitized all my photo albums and updated this post to include a photo of the aforementioned hat and coat. The coat is long gone, but the hat remains sitting on a shelf in the cedar closet in a plastic bag.

When looking at the title of this blog post, you’ll probably assume it is related to the Spaghetti Western by the same name; or, perhaps …

It is a tale of a trio of squirrels at Council Point Park that came running for the peanuts that I spread out around my feet on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

But, alas … it is neither of the above. It is, however, a saga of doing what you believe is good, but it is really bad, and turns into an ugly situation.

If you’ve followed this blog for some time, you probably know that I am a poster child for healthy eating. I’m not much of a cook, and, my meals border on blah as I have attempted to follow a healthy diet for the last five or so years.

I have given up eating sweets and treats, salty snacks, fried food, fast food, and, two years ago for American Heart Month, I gave up eating red meat.

Well, hooray for me … or so I thought.

Ten days ago, I went on a long walk to Council Point Park. My boss was out and I had a leisurely stroll on a beautiful Spring-like day.  But, by mid-afternoon, I had the strangest tingling in my right foot.  Now, I’ve had this tingling feeling in that foot off-and-on for about a year, and, more than once, I’ve taken off my moccasin, or even my walking shoe, to peer into that dark crevice to see if there was a rough seam, or the tongue padding was rumpled up, but nothing was amiss.  So, I just dismissed it.

That tingling sensation on February 23^rd persisted through the night, and, by the next morning, my instep and base of my big toe were downright sore.  I thought maybe I had strained something on my foot.  The weather was not so great anyway, so I didn’t walk.  By Sunday, it felt a little better, so I decided a walk was in order.  I did, however, take the car for a drive and drove to Council Point Park … just in case I had an issue walking.

I even put on my padded walking socks and broke out a brand-new pair of walking shoes. Well, the walk was fine, but my foot not so much.

Finally, I sat down at the computer Monday night to see if I could self-diagnose this problem. There’s nothing like Google where I could plug in the key words “why is the base of my big toe swollen and red?”  Google responded quickly, giving me a half-dozen or more sites to read all about “gout” … no, they must be wrong!  But, though I was dubious, next I Googled “images for gout” … lo and behold, there was the mirror image of my foot staring at me from the computer screen.

I have spent an inordinate amount of time since Monday evening perusing the net’s medical sites to research gout, its causes and how to remedy it, and, no one could be more shocked than me to find out the healthy diet that I followed, was not so healthy after all!

For example, one of the major causes of gout, which is a build-up of uric acid in your body, is the consumption of certain foods containing chemical compounds called purines. While it was a smart move giving up white bread in favor of whole grain, making that sandwich with turkey and/or tuna was not.  Turkey and tuna are both high in purines.  I could have chosen chicken and salmon, much better choices, but who knew?

Wait, there is more.

That can of organic vegetable, lentil or split pea soup I so enjoyed, and believed was filling my body with extra vegetables and nutrients, was also contributing to the high uric acid level because beans, spinach, tomatoes, lentils and peas are all bad for gout.

I also discovered that sugar was one of the culprits … how can this apply to me, who eats no sweets?

To begin with, I found out I was eating too much high fructose sugar. I have never been a pop drinker, downing only coffee, milk or water.  (Okay, that one quart of eggnog at the holidays.)

For years I used only sugar-free syrup on my oatmeal, but warnings about the dangers of aspartame caused me to switch to regular syrup. At that time, by studying the labels at the grocery store, I found Log Cabin contained the least amount of sugar in its product, so that has been my brand of choice for years.  But it has an abundance of sugar in each serving.

Not only was the sugar counter-acting the good benefit of the oatmeal, but, those raisins I sprinkled so liberally through it are full of sugar as well. Sometimes I use Craisins, those delightful dried cranberries – sugary and bad, bad, bad!

I thought those “Cutie Clementines” were beneficial, especially in the Winter months, as they not only taste good, but help ward off colds and flu. Sure, but four of them daily added another 25 or so grams of sugar to my total for the day.  Ideally, your total daily sugar consumption to prevent gout should be 25 grams.  I blew the entire daily amount on dribbles of syrup on my big bowl of oatmeal or four Clementines.  I was devastated to read this.

Likewise, I often eat a banana, or other fruit, or even canned fruit – more sugar consumption. Heck, I might as well have eaten a candy bar.

Compounding all the “bad foods” that I’ve eating, I was ecstatic when the National Dairy Council announced a few years ago that it was acceptable and healthier to consume milk with fats, rather than drinking only skim milk and eating no-fat or low-fat dairy products. I immediately began buying tasty dairy products again.  I have now discovered that high-fat dairy products were also a contributing factor to gout.

Over the course of the next three evenings, I went to only the legitimate sites to find out information on gout, then started methodically ticking off all the items in my daily meals, not to mention all the food still in the fridge and pantry, that are now forbidden foods. I planned a Saturday morning grocery shopping trip with a list that was not committed to memory, but I had to keep consulting, as I went down each aisle.  Before I wrote out that list, I had studied nutrition labels online, but, at the store I also compared products, to load up my shopping cart with low-fat dairy, lots more vegetables, and multiple bottles of refrigerated tart cherry concentrate.  Downing that cherry drink or munching on those cherries once they are available might just be the highlight of my day.  I seem to remember my friend Cathy, who follows this blog, telling me a long time ago, her brother was on a cherry-eating/drinking regimen to help tame his arthritis.

So, what is the takeaway of this tale?

I cannot really blame myself for this malady. I thought my monotonous eating regimen was helping me to have a good cholesterol level and thwart any potential heart issues, because heart disease runs in my family.  I believed my lackluster, sodium-free diet would help prevent a stroke, and, that healthy eating, combined with the walking was making me fit as a fiddle, as that expression goes.

My mother, who had a host of medical conditions her entire life, woke up one morning about ten years ago, and the second joint of her right index finger was inflamed. She suffered horribly from arthritis most of her life, and this bump, that was warm to the touch and somewhat painful, prohibited her from holding a pen to write.  She asked her GP about it.  He told her it was gout.  I accompanied her to the visit, and can still hear her saying “I thought gout was only in your big toe – in a finger?”  The doctor said that it could occur at any joint in your body, and, then he questioned her diet, remarked that her eating habits were healthy and gave her a list of food restrictions.  The only one that pertained to her was liverwurst, which she ate occasionally on toast.  So no more liverwurst and the painful bump eventually went away.

I refuse to see a doctor and I will beat this on my own, unless there are complications, because I don’t like taking medicine, and I don’t like the side effects of the meds they suggest. One recommendation is drinking a lot of liquid.  I am drinking so much water (a dozen cups of water at a minimum) that I feel like I am sloshing when I walk.

And, I won’t stop walking … because exercise was recommended, especially low-impact exercise like walking.

So, life goes on, and, I am mindful that medically, things could be a whole lot worse.

I will toe the line with my food going forward, and, head down to Council Point Park every chance I get, where, like today, I will ensure I hand out every last peanut from those two big bags I bought yesterday at Meijer. (Of course those peanuts for the squirrels are salt-free … um, some habits are just too hard to break.)

[Image from Three-shots from Pixabay]

For years and years, the arrival of March 1^st not only signaled turning the calendar page to a new month, but, everyone was chattering about whether March came in like a lion or a lamb.  Folklore has it that if the month of March arrives boisterously like a lion, then it likely would exit gently like a lamb.

Last week my neighbor Marge mentioned March 1^st and what it would bring when we were discussing this ever-present wacky Winter weather.

Today, on this first day of March, I heard and saw nothing about March coming in like a lion or a lamb. Not a peep on the radio, not a tweet or a post on social media.  What’s up with that?

Those raucous storms in the early a.m. woke me up, so I would think March arrived like a lion, but, when I stepped outside, it was nearly 60 degrees, and mild, as if it was April 1^st, not March 1^st.

So, I am a little flummoxed.

Yesterday, I stayed indoors due to the rain, so I was surprised to see buds galore on Marge’s magnolia tree, and the tulips in the garden bed across the street are already about six inches high … all this happened in a mere 48 hours? Well, buds and sprouts are always a sure sign of Spring, only it is not Spring for another three weeks.

And, much to my surprise, I opened the garage to run the car, and what did I see, but three worms crawling around on the garage floor? I have never seen worms in the garage before – ever.  Ugh!  While they were not the long and juicy worms like you see on the sidewalk in the Summertime, a hungry robin would have enjoyed any one of them, or, an angler would have plucked one up in a heartbeat and jabbed it onto his hook.  While I certainly don’t mind worms, (they are slower than me, unlike spiders or centipedes), I was still a little dismayed to see them.  I can only guess that we had so much rain that it saturated the ground and so they crawled under the sweep and into the garage seeking refuge.

Sometimes nature versus mankind is way over the top ….

When a determination is made as to March’s arrival, i.e. lion versus lamb, be sure to let me know, okay?

[Images from Pixabay]

The rain might have stopped me in my tracks, but, the diehard paczki lovers didn’t let a drizzly and murky morning deter them from getting their favorite Polish pastry for Fat Tuesday.

Social media was all abuzz yesterday with their annual tales about how many folks would be queuing up in long lines around the blocks at bakeries in Hamtramck, or, even your favorite local bakery specializing in the “real deal”, i.e. those fat-laden paczki donuts, guaranteed to spurt fruit or cream filling across your face if you don’t bite into them a certain way.

This morning, just as predicted, the lines were long and stretched many city blocks. People had already been waiting in the rain as long as three or four hours.  No complaints – just the anticipation of the joy of that jelly or cream-filled indulgence.

Paczki are not your regular old jelly donuts. And, paczki purists probably find the concept of American Coney Island’s newly created “coney paczki”, a hybrid of pączek and coney dog, just a little unsettling.  But, hey … if you enjoy both treats, it might be the best of both worlds!

Likewise, another pączek 2017 creation is the pairing of peanut butter and chocolate, instead of the traditional fruit or cream fillings. Well, some things are left well enough alone, in my humble opinion.

As for me, I have not had a pączek since giving up sweets permanently in 2011 – how boring is that? But, I also don’t have one staring me in the face, and I’m not smelling a boxful of them at close range either, so it is easy not to yield to temptation.

Friends of our family once serenaded my mom on her Valentine’s Day/Fat Tuesday birthday, by showing up with a dozen paczki. Mary even put a candle on each pączek and then lit them all and sang happy birthday to her.  What a fun surprise!  But Mary didn’t stay to have one since she and her husband had already downed a half-dozen of their own before visiting my mom.  Mary and Frank lined up for these treats at the crack of dawn, along with a large crowd of paczki lovers, at the now-shuttered Oak Leaf Bakery in Wyandotte.  We couldn’t finish off that dozen in one day, so the remaining ones went into the freezer, to be enjoyed in dribs and drabs after Easter had passed.

Last night I watched the highlights of the Oscars online … a bit ho hum, except, of course, for the faux pas at the finale. When I was younger, I stayed up late to watch all the awards shows.  Back then, I knew about all the pop culture nominees – now, I haven’t a clue who most of them are, or the music or movies they are associated with.  Granted, I’ve not been inside a movie theatre in nearly 25 years, when I went to see “Sommersby” in 1993. After that, it was just so convenient to grab a videotape from a nearby Blockbuster, and kick back in the easy chair, with a bag of Better Maid cheddar-cheese popcorn propped up next to me within easy reach. Microwave popcorn, hot and smelling so wonderful, also made staying home an easy decision. No long line to buy tickets or treats, and no one talking or kicking behind your seat.  Now, there is Netflix and movies on demand to catch up on all those blockbuster films.

I used to love looking at the clothes the stars wore to the Oscars. There were the handsome male movie stars in their tuxes and the women with lots of hairspray, glittery jewelry and teetering on high heels.  Most of them had their bodies squeezed, stuffed and pushed-up to the extreme to fit into those skin-tight, er … formfitting dresses.

One thing is for sure – those seasoned stars and starlets weren’t stopping for any paczki today – one bite of that tantalizing treat and they’d bust their seams wide open, and that, my friends, would be a bigger disaster than “Oscargate” was.

[Image of Coney Paczi from American Coney Island]

Living here in Michigan, you have to have multiple wardrobes at the ready, though admittedly, this has been a rather wild week of weather, certainly not like a normal February in southeast Michigan.

I can tell you that Thursday I escaped for a walk in just a light jacket which I left undone most of the time. The temps escalated soon after the sun was high and bright in the sky, making it a delightful Spring-like day.  Friday morning was foggy and soggy with humidity that made it feel sticky, and then the temps soared, fueling two rounds of severe weather just like we have in Summer.  Yesterday, it was beginning to feel Fallish, and today … Winter returneth.  I was back in my down coat, and halfway through the first loop of the perimeter path, I wished I had worn my hooded scarf to keep me warmer, as that wind had a real bite to it.  It was a beautiful and clear day, if you didn’t mind the polar-like temps and a biting breeze that made a “real feel” of 20 degrees, even though I departed at mid-day.  Yikes!!!  Talk about a reality check, yet, I can’t help but wonder, how long Winter will grace us with its presence this time?

Since no trees or bushes have leafed out yet, the winds are harsh at Council Point Park. The stiff breeze caused ripples in the Ecorse Creek, and maybe this was why the mallards were a bit fractious, or, perhaps it was too chilly for a “dip” in that murky water so they were voicing their displeasure.

The walkers were few, but the squirrels were plentiful, and I came prepared to tender peanuts to my pals. I vowed I would leave no furry friends going without treats like the other day.

As usual, the squirrels were quick to greet me, shortly after I stepped on that asphalt path. One chubby fellow scrambled down the tall tree lickety–split, and soon announced his presence at my feet.  I tossed some peanuts and a pair of squirrels immediately went diving for them, the wind raising the silky fur in their bushy tails, as their paws grasped the treat and their sharp teeth cracked it open.

I promised my friend Ann Marie, a fellow walker and a follower of this blog, that I’d get some pictures of the squirrels encircling me to get their treats. But the angle of the sun, probably since I left later than usual, would have my own shadow photobombing every shot … there will be lots more peanuts, squirrels and photo ops down the road, so in the meantime, I’m attaching a blog post entitled “Sole Mate” from a few years ago.  It shows a furry fellow up close and personal.  This little guy had an affinity for climbing up on my shoe in his quest for peanuts.  https://lindaschaubblog.net/2014/06/23/sole-mate/

I didn’t pause too long in one spot and moved on, wanting to get my four miles in today. Dead leaves and spent peanut shells littered the path and skittered along with the wind, which I discovered, when I returned home, had been blowing at about 20 mph.

In the second loop, I passed a copse of trees and bushes across from the inline skating rink. They have been dead as a doornail as long as I’ve been going to Council Point Park, their pale-looking trunks long stripped of bark and bleached by the hot sun or weathered by the wind and wintry conditions.  They sure don’t enhance the landscape or lend to the ambiance of the Park.  As I walked by this area, I heard a loud, creaking noise.  Timidly, I looked up and noticed two large branches were evidently rubbing together, making that eerie noise, like a door with hinges that needed oiling.  I had two thoughts as I hurried past on the perimeter path:  #1 – I hope those pieces of wood rubbing together don’t start a fire (my Brownie and Girl Guide training instincts kicking in all these decades later); and #2 – I think the noise felt like my bones when I got up this morning.  That’s because I spent the better part of yesterday stooping, kneeling and crawling around or behind furniture and under the bed in search of dust bunnies.  This morning, when the alarm rang and my feet hit the ground, albeit reluctantly, I felt pretty creaky myself, and sure felt my age.

[Image from OpenClipArt from Pixabay]

… in the merry month of May (er … February),

I was taken by surprise,

By a pair of roguish eyes,

In a moment my poor heart was stole away.

[Excerpt from “The Fountain in the Park” by Ed Haley]

*******************************************

I remember this ditty from my childhood, as well as many Friday nights when my college newspaper cronies and I hung out at Bimbo’s in Dearborn, eating pizza and enjoying the crowd singalongs to the tunes by the Red Garter Band.

This was one such song, and, it was an earworm for me on this February 23^rd, which felt more like a May morn.

Of course, those roguish eyes that would melt my heart did not belong to a tall, dark stranger, but instead, a squirrel who appeared after I was done handing out peanuts to everyone, except him. The bleeding heart that I am, soon noticed his eyes were more sorrowful than roguish, his demeanor beaten down from my slight.  Sure, we were both disappointed – me, as I had no treats for him, and, him, because he realized “you snooze – you lose” as that saying goes.

What a sensational week of weather we are having! I will be so sorry to see it come to an abrupt halt after Friday’s severe weather and Saturday’s potential snow flurries.  That is really kind of an insult after what we’ve been accustomed to this past week.

It was 60 degrees when I departed this morning, which is certainly more like May weather. This Spring-y weather is making those Groundhog Day predictions issued four weeks ago today, look a little lame … but, I still think we will get slammed with another snowstorm before Spring is here to stay.

My boss was out at meetings this morning, so I could take a long and leisurely stroll at Council Point Park.

But first things first. I took the car for a spin, and went down Southfield Road, and along River Drive by the Park and then home.  It always amazes me when I travel the route that runs parallel to Council Point Park, on four wheels, as opposed to two feet, and how long a journey that really is, not to mention the path that winds through the Park, the parking lot and getting to and from my house to there, which is 3/4s of a mile each way.  Whew!  I wore myself out just looking at it.  It never seems like that many miles when I am just hoofin’ it.

Just as soon as the car was tucked back into the garage after its four-mile run, I began my own four-mile journey down to the Park and around the perimeter path.

It was very humid, and the sidewalks were still wet, and, I half expected to see a worm or two inching across the cement, but none were to be found. But, along with the songbirds who were tweeting their sweet songs this morning, I found four robins gathered on one lawn, apparently without much success as to a food source, since they were just stalking around the property.

I heard an interesting story on the radio this morning that the weather is so warm in northern Michigan, that some of the black bears are no longer hibernating. Imagine, being out on a snowmobile trail, or snowshoeing along, and coming face-to-face with a bleary-eyed bear having just stumbled out its den.  The bears are not out for good though, just during this warmish hiatus until the expected cold returns next week, which will send them scurrying back to their cozy dens once again.

Just like the bears, after the “real Winter” returns and this “imposter Spring” departs, we will be opting to hunker down indoors, rather than cavorting around in shorts and tee-shirts and throwing open the windows on the third week of February.

As I neared the grounds, I knew there would be a lot of people at Council Point Park since there were many vehicles in the parking lot. I was correct, since there were several bikers and at least a dozen walkers besides myself.

As mentioned above, I took a Ziploc bag of peanuts along, and there were plenty of takers. Even without my salmon-colored down coat, my furry friends came right over, sniffing at my shoes first, then getting right up on their haunches begging for handouts, which I was glad to provide.  I emptied the bag by the end of the first loop at the Park, since on the second loop, there are far less trees, and it is more open, so there are rarely any squirrels around.

Until today.

I was moseying along and suddenly became aware of a presence behind me and I could see his shadow. He was at my heels, then soon walking along companionably, keeping pace with me.  Regrettably, I had nothing left to give this little cutie.  I stopped and said “no more” which fell on deaf ears, and, as soon as I resumed walking, there he was again … my little pal alongside me.

An older gentleman, approached me and said “looks like you have a tagalong there” and smiled. I told him “I always bring enough peanuts to dole out at least four or five to each squirrel, but finished them off on the first loop, so had none to give to him.”  That squirrel tagged alongside me the balance of the time at the Park, even trailing after me to the parking lot.  Guess I now have to have a reserve bag in my pocket at all times.

On the way home, I unsnapped my coat to cool off a bit and took off my gloves as well. While doing so, I stopped to admire the first crocuses of the season, a trio of bright-yellow blooms, stuck in the still-brown grass at a corner house.  They were already about two inches tall.

I was not the only one enjoying the warm and sunny day. I walked by Memorial Park, and a group of youngsters, no doubt from the nearby Head Start on Electric Avenue, were walking together, talking a mile a moment to one another and obviously happy to be outside instead of cooped up in the classroom.  I stepped aside into the street to give them plenty of room.  We chatted a bit about what the kids had seen today – robins and crocuses, all sure signs of the real Spring, even though they are part of this magical fake Spring that we enjoying so much.

On this sunny, feel-good February day … just walking, talking and taking in Mother Nature’s treasures.

[Image by alegria2014 from Pixabay]

It was another spectacular weather day. At this rate, when the real first day of Spring arrives, we will treat it as nothing special after this slew of quasi-Spring days we’ve enjoyed.

We all have Spring fever on top of it – I mean, who doesn’t want to be out in this fine weather? I’ve heard the roar of motorcycles every evening the past week and the bikers are in Hog heaven.

I hated to return from this morning’s walk, and lingered just a little longer visiting with Jenny, our mail carrier, who finally returned to work this past Tuesday, after she took a nasty slip-and-fall on an icy porch step at the beginning of the year.

Usually on George Washington’s birthday, we would be slogging through slush and snow, our faces bent toward the ground, not only to thwart the stinging winds, but, also because we are dejected about the seemingly endless Winter.

George Washington, he being of sound character and cherry tree and wooden teeth fame, also, as you know, added to his credentials, being the father of our country. And, just like that young future President who proclaimed “I cannot tell a lie” … I, too, am not lying when I tell you that I crossed that 100-miles-walked threshold today.   So, that is a cause for celebration – for me anyway.

My walk was to the tracks and back, and, on the return trip, I saw the mailman who delivers on Emmons Boulevard. We always exchange pleasantries whenever our paths cross, and, I have often kidded him about his shorts, which he wears long past the time the rest of have retired our shorts, (usually until the following Memorial Day).  He tells me “I like to have air on my legs and I can move faster when I’m wearing shorts!”  When I saw him this morning, I pointed at his legs and said “and why did I know you would be sporting shorts today?”  He laughed, and I said “as usual, I am overdressed.”   Then, when I arrived home, there was Jenny, similarly dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.  I told her about my encounter and she knew right away whom I meant – “oh yeah, that’s Dave” she said.  Maybe it is a mail carrier thing with the shorts?

I have to start living dangerously too – I think I am getting too old and staid.

Back in the day, my mom always baked mini cherry pies on Washington’s birthday. We’d have them hot out of the oven for dessert, with a generous scoop of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream plopped on top.  Oh, that was such a tasty treat.  Sometimes, we substituted B&J’s Cherry Garcia frozen yogurt, which was pretty special too, and that, by George, is no lie.

Speaking of George Washington, I’m sure a passel of dollar bills were exchanged for lottery tickets by people anxious to win the big prize of $403 million in tonight’s Powerball drawing. I actually broke down and spent $2.00 for one ticket when I bought gas the other day.  That jackpot is an obscene amount of money for one person to win.  For me, I’d be content to get a four-number prize, or a mere million.  I told the gas station owner I’d stay my sweet and simple self and still come in to top off my tank every two months, like I do now.  I needn’t worry, and neither should you if you got some tickets, because the odds are 1 in 292,200,000+ chance of being the big winner.

You sure could make, buy and/or eat a lot of cherry pies with that kind of dough!

[Image by Tumisu from Pixabay]

The weather folks predicted possible rain for the morning, so I was pleased when I peered outside and discovered it was dismal and gray, but not drizzling.

I figured I’d just do my Emmons Boulevard route this morning, as I can get more mileage under my belt if I’m not chatting with other walkers on the path, or stopping to toss peanuts to the squirrels. That way I’d avoid getting soaked, just in case that rain did arrive.

And … being the glass half-full gal that I usually try to be, I didn’t take an umbrella.

Off I trekked, down to the tracks, giving me another four miles to add to my total, which is nearing the century mark …yes, if the snow-free weather holds up a little longer, I’ll get to that goal in short order.

The weather was still pleasant – not too cold, and, I noted that the chalk artists had been out since the last time I walked here. The sidewalks at several homes were covered in pastel flowers and flourishes.

A runner streaked past me – clearly we were at odds in how we had dressed before leaving our respective homes. Her head was uncovered, a long blond ponytail streaming behind her, and she had bare arms and legs.  Me, the long-time bus rider/former Girl Scout, abiding by the motto “always be prepared” had a hat, scarf, gloves and heavy coat on.  Perhaps we needed our moms to dress us?

Luckily, I made that round trip in record time … not a thimbleful, or even a single raindrop, ruined this walker’s parade.

Speaking of thimbles, I was surprised to learn that it was the lowly thimble game token that was voted out by Monopoly fans. It will be missing amongst the new fan-picked tokens that will be found in all Monopoly games created after World Monopoly Day on March 19^th.

Who knew there was even a “World Monopoly Day” anyway? I didn’t.

I’ve not played Monopoly in decades, and that board game sits inside a cupboard shelf in the basement, along with another favorite, Scrabble. Growing up, Monopoly was best played on a snowy weekend afternoon, whiling away the hours, when you used your business skills, while your  favorite token piece  went ‘round and ‘round the board, picking up valuable property, passing “Go” and trying your darndest not to end up in jail.

I heard that fans decided that the thimble was just a “sew-sew” game piece, so the replacement token will be something more modern. Apparently, many people had never used a thimble, and few people do hand sewing anymore, so it was deemed obsolete.  All the young ladies in Mrs. Baldwin’s Home Ec class used thimbles, circa 1968.  She did not want us pricking our sensitive fingers while learning how to baste and hem.  In fact, I’ve got a pink wicker sewing basket sitting on a shelf alongside those board games with that first thimble used in Mrs. Baldwin’s class.

When Hasbro, the maker of the Monopoly game, bids adieu to the thimble, it will go the way of the iron, a token that bit the dust a few years ago, as it was deemed a boring and unimaginative game piece as well.  I’ll concede there is nothing glamorous, exciting or upbeat about an iron.  Ironing is drudgery, and that is why we park ourselves at the dryer to pull out the tops or pants that are tumbling inside it, before they languish too long and those dreaded wrinkles set in, making your duds/you look unkempt and uncool.  Personally,  I have enough wrinkles of my own, let alone creating them in my clothes too.  Do you  even remember when you last ironed your clothes?  Ahem – I’ll take the Fifth Amendment for my answer.  In fact, I’ve eyed the ironing board in the broom closet more than a few times in my zeal to contain clutter, my #1 New Year’s resolution for 2017.  Does that ironing board stay, or does it go?  There it is, propped up against the closet wall, with its multiple layers of metallic gray covers, taking up valuable space in the closet, never-ever used by me, and probably never will be.  Of course, my mother would be aghast to think her ironing board should be cast out in the garbage … likewise the iron and the water shaker also take up space in that cupboard.  So, should I liberate myself from this hum- drum household duty forever and simply toss those items?  Hmmmm.

Hat’s off to Hasbro, since the top hat and the token I always chose, the Scottie dog, have remained intact and not been axed as old-fashioned or obsolete-looking game tokens.

As to the game of Monopoly, were I to play after all these years, I sure would need to look over the instructions again. As a kid, I thought I was pretty smart, gathering up all that real estate or the big bucks, and my parents egging me on to become an enterprising entrepreneur as I gathered property and wealth, though, in retrospect, perhaps my parents let me win some of the time.

I’ll bet Dan Gilbert was an awesome Monopoly player when he was growing up – I wonder what he chose for his token?

It was another beautiful day, and, we broke a longstanding weather record from 1884, after we hit 66 degrees this afternoon.

I wonder what we did to deserve all this love from Mother Nature?

I got hung up doing some domestic chores and left a little later than usual, but not before I stopped to gather some goodies for the feathered and furry critters at the Park.

There was some old bread I had defrosted, so I broke it up for the ducks and geese, and, when I reached into the cupboard to get a Ziploc bag of peanuts for the squirrels, those peanuts smelled so fresh and good, that I stopped and treated myself to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just for kicks, I made a smaller sandwich and cut it into “fingers” to share with the squirrels.

I made my way down to Council Point Park, and there were many walkers there already. There were also a few teens chasing the elusive Pokémon characters, and, a couple of boys bumped into each other as their heads were bent, studying their phone screens.

By the time I reached the perimeter path, I had unzipped my jacket and stuffed my gloves in my pocket. I even took out the camera just in case I could get a close-up of a squirrel noshing on a PB&J sandwich, with peanut butter smeared all over his furry face.

First, a pair of squirrels scrambled down from a tree, and, I lured them over to me with some peanuts, which were quickly grabbed and positioned between their front paws. Chomp, chomp – gone in a minute, with the shells cast aside on the path.  Next, I laid out a couple of sections of  the sandwich – that got their attention, and each sniffed a piece, scooped it up with a paw, shoved it into their mouth, then took off running.  Bad manners!  No photo op either!  But, I looked over in the bushes, and, yes, they were enjoying their treat, so I left the rest of the fingers there so they could come and get them at their leisure.

So, yes – the entire world loves PB&J sandwiches, not just you and me – the squirrels love ‘em too.

At the cement precipice, I took out my bag of bread, and, once again I had my camera at the ready. I had a few takers for those yeasty tidbits, long discolored by freezer burn, and those mallards delicately nibbled that bread, then quickly moved on.

I put the camera away again, figuring I was done dispensing goodies for today, though I still had some peanuts left for any other squirrels who happened along.

Soon thereafter, a big robin, the first I’ve seen this year, flew down beside me. He looked just like the one pictured above, wearing a perpetual scowl that  most robins seem to have.  He probably saw me feeding the rest of the crowd and thought I might have a worm or grub for him, since I doubt he found any in the frozen ground in mid-February, despite these balmy temps.

That appearance of Robin Redbreast made me think … do I have to get my robin contraption in place over the coach light at home already? I need to search in my blog to find my first whine about the robins settling in to raise their family last year – they were at least a month earlier than usual, probably due to the mild Winter of 2015-2016.  Though I am a bird lover, the robin’s messy nest over my front door light, is just not acceptable to me, and, I fear this warm weather will have them looking for a mate, nesting materials, then a place to build.  Each year they favor me with their presence, and believe me, I’ve never put out the welcome mat, nor a sign that reads “Mi Casa es Su Casa!”

I heard the vroom and low rumble of motorcycles while walking home and throughout the day. I half-expected that the next sound I would hear would be a lawn mower starting up.

Too bad the President’s Day holiday was not extended to all workers – tomorrow is supposed to be another stellar weather day.

[Image by Kaz from Pixabay]

This headline deserves an asterisk, because, my friends, we all know that Spring doesn’t officially arrive until March 20^th.

So, I guess I am circulating “fake news” … that’s okay, because it sure feels like Spring has arrived here in Southeast Michigan.

It turned out to be a day to ditch the hat and gloves and unzip or unbutton your coat and breathe in deeply.

However, while it may be 68 degrees right now as I am typing this post, this morning when I left on my walk, a stiff breeze was blowing and there was a chill in the air – it was only 45 degrees then.

I headed down to Council Point Park where I joined many fellow walkers and joggers who wanted to spend their morning enjoying that venue, just like me. Though I took the camera, intending to get some current Park photos, I never took it out of the case since the landscape is still drab and dowdy looking.  Even the squirrels seemed to blend right into the scenery, except, of course, when they spied me along the trail, or, I shook a bag of peanuts in their direction.  They soon came running over.  Yes, I’m a quick study, and noticed early on that shaking the clear bag filled with peanuts had a similar effect to Hop Sing, the Ponderosa’s Chinese cook, ringing the dinner triangle to announce to the Cartwrights that the meal was ready.  (Of course, if you never watched the T.V. series “Bonanza” you might wonder about this analogy.)

The Ecorse Creek had a light skim of ice in places and its banks and shoreline were full of dried-up reeds. The ducks and geese did not seem to mind their surroundings, however, and the waterfowl were plentiful as I walked parallel to the Creek.

I stood out on the ledge, what I used to refer to as “Duck Landing”, and watched the mallards and geese gracefully paddling along. Every so often, the camaraderie would end abruptly, when one of them would rile up his brethren and a lot of quacking or honking ensued, then soon it was quiet and peaceful again.

As I walked along in silence, I was aware of the wind as it swooshed through the trees causing the brittle leaves that still remained on the bare branches to make a crackling sound. Likewise, a few dozen lightweight plastic bags were slung from bushes and branches and the wind rustled through them as I walked by.

I look forward to that first day when the Park seems to comes alive … the grass suddenly will be a brilliant green color and dotted with dandelions, and the goslings will toddle after their parents. That is when the camera will get some serious action.

In the meantime, I think that just a few more days of this mild weather will have the trees and perennials very confused. Buds will suddenly appear and green sprouts will surface in still-frozen garden beds.

We humans can simply don another layer to protect us, but they will be susceptible to the wiles of Mother Nature.