All posts by Bonnie Anderson

Siena

There is more to Tuscany than its rolling hills and amazing food and wine. There is also gelato. I should mention that each town has a town square in which to enjoy food, drink, conversation, and shopping; and these are great places to find gelato. This was Bob’s and my second trip to the area, so I knew that gelato is everywhere – kind of like Starbucks or Wawa here in Florida. But you cannot get every flavor of gelato everywhere, and all gelato is not created equal. As we entered the spacious Piazza del Campo, Siena’s medieval town square, I took a moment to breathe it all in.

Piazza del Campo

Then I did my first scouting for gelato. There it was – mere steps away. I alerted our fellow travelers to the treasure, but it was Bob and I alone who made the short trek to the smooth, creamy, banana-flavored delight. I was ecstatic because it is not easy to find banana, the best flavored gelato, and here it was at our first gelato effort. Success.

I don’t remember who this statue depicted, but the gelato was delicious!

Our friends did not understand the significance of this gelato event and were more absorbed by the ancient architecture and overall cultural experience. I suppose they had full tummies from our lovely lunch at La Taverna di San Giuseppe, which we finished only minutes before entering the square. But as the old adage states, “There’s always room for gelato.”

Walking the streets of Siena reveals beauty at every turn. For instance, laundry hanging from windows above the streets in the states seems wrong, but in Italy, it’s artistic. I suppose not so much for the locals, but for us Americans it’s a photo op. I have to admire their commitment to clean clothes even if it does mean airing your laundry for tourists to capture for posterity. As I was taking this picture, a lady walked past me and looked quizzically at me. I assured her that I do not regularly take pictures of laundry, but somehow here, in Siena, it was beautiful. A slice of life, if you will.

When you think of the hill towns in Tuscany, you may get so caught up in the beauty of them that you don’t stop to think that half of your walking is going to be uphill. And the other half is harder on your knees, but thankfully there is a lot to distract you. The culmination of a trip to Siena occurs when you turn the corner and first behold the duomo (an Italian term for cathedral). It is magnificent, and it beckons you to keep walking up, up, up.

The back of the duomo – pretty impressive for a backdoor

We approached the duomo from the back, which is impressive enough, but instead of entering through the backdoor, which we could have, we walked up many more stairs to behold this magnificent cathedral from the front, which is worth the effort.

Up, up, up we go

This will get your heart rate going for sure, but while you get it back to a resting rate, there is a musician playing in the square and it’s a good time to reflect on the beauty of it all. It is magnificent and worth simply standing for a long while, putting your phone in your pocket, and being thankful you get to be there.

This gothic-style cathedral towers over the surrounding square. Inside of it you are treated to amazing architecture, stained glass windows, and the art of masters such as Donatello and Michealangelo. The construction took place roughly between 1215 and 1263. The gold on the top front of the façade shines differently throughout the day as the sun reflects off it. Inside and out are horizontal stripes prompting me think of Where’s Waldo and making me wish I had worn my black and white striped shirt for a little extra fun. The stripes are actually white and greenish-black marble. Black and white are the colors of Siena.

Words are difficult to find to describe the beautiful sanctuary, so here are some pictures.

This bronze statue of John the Baptist by Donatella was finished in 1457.

I mentioned in my previous post that the eight of us travelers are all of a “certain” age. That means that keeping sure footing is another thing near the top of the list of safety precautions for us. Steps are everywhere and they don’t believe in hand railings or uniformity of the stairs, so it is important to tread with care. This is one of my favorite pictures from the trip, which I took at great personal risk as then I had to walk down the stairs alone, holding the wall like those before me.

Cautious footing is the order of the day

At the end of our tour of the duomo and its surroundings, we were able to sit and have a glass of wine and some panforte, which was among the few offerings available at this cafe since the kitchen was not open – it was only 5:30, after all.

We followed the reverse path back to our cars, stopping briefly in the Piazza del Campo for one more look. Then we were off to the grocery store to make sure we had plenty of wine. Wine is cheap over there – even good wine! We did not buy this gigantic one, which I think is about 1.25 gallons, and was very heavy. After all, every day in Tuscany is legs day. I hadn’t lifted anything heavier than a piece of lasagne all day.

Note the cheap prices!

Our first full day in Siena ended as we photographed the beautiful sunset and headed back to the house for a glass of wine and an early bedtime.

6 Comments
by Bonnie Anderson on May 13, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Europe, Travel
Tagged , , , , , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on May 13, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/05/13/siena/

It’s Always a Good Time for Tuscany

Should one return to Tuscany on a regular basis and if so, how regular should that basis be? This is a question that I also ask myself about Hawaii. Both places are breathtakingly beautiful and are favorites of mine. To be in either place is to experience a great sense of peace and relaxation; but ironically, I get pretty doggone tired when visiting both places. Then again, Bob and I are fairly aggressive travelers, so I should clarify – tired and happy and strangely energized.

To answer the question from the beginning of this post – Yes, one should go to Tuscany on a regular basis or an irregular basis, or just once, if at all possible! That is if you’d like to experience old Italy, great food and wine, classic architecture, great food and wine, timeless art, great food and wine, beautiful rolling hills, great food and wine, spectacular sunrises and sunsets, and great food and wine.

A little backstory for our most recent trip – we have traveled extensively with three other couples, all of whom we’ve enjoyed friendship with for over forty years. It has been over a decade since we have had the privilege of traveling together. When the last of our group retired at the end of 2023 and told us they were considering going to Italy, the door opened for another group trip. Actually, I’m not sure if the door opened or if we kicked it in, but either way, last month the eight of us set off for Italy and Switzerland on an adventure.

Traveling at our current “certain” age is vastly different than it was over a decade ago, even though we would have considered ourselves a “certain” age way back then. Silly us! We are now more “certain” than ever and a bit slower, too, but we managed our trip with friendships and body parts intact. That’s a win.

We chose not to check baggage as we were literally doing a planes, trains, and automobiles type of trip with four different destinations along the way. You may notice striking similarities in our luggage and backpacks as we texted each other with every detail of our trip planning. (Thanks, Amazon.) I’m not sure if it’s a thing, but it may be time to get the tires rotated on our luggage. We gave them a workout on those cobblestone streets.

Six of us began in Orlando on a Saturday morning. We connected with the other two in Charlotte, and from there we headed to Florence via Madrid. I don’t like math, but I’m guessing that it took us about a zillion hours to arrive at our VRBO in Siena. (a zillion = approximately 23, according to my engineer and numbers guy, Bob)

Siena – che bello! These sights eased our travel-weary souls!

These are the views from our VRBO in Siena. (Here is a link in case you’d like to book here yourself. I highly recommend it. https://www.vrbo.com/10788011ha)

There were a few things that were musts for us American certain-agers. First and foremost was our own bedroom with attached bathroom. The bed size must be queen or larger. They don’t designate bed sizes the same way as we do in the states, but we were able to figure it out. This VRBO in Siena checked all the boxes. It even had a washer and dryer, though one should note that a clothes dryer in Europe will likely be a rack on which to hang clothes, which was the case for us. Still, it was bene da noi (fine by us).

We started our visit with a catered dinner at our new Siena home. This was an extravagance suggested by the owner, and it paid off in spades as we were all tired and hungry. This pair of lovely Italian ladies invaded the kitchen and put out a spread worthy of a king. This included an appetizer which included home-made crackers. I didn’t know that was even a thing. Perhaps I’m easily impressed, but they were deliziosa! Home-made bread and charcuterie with fresh vegies and honey were just the beginning. Our main course was ravioli. It was the first time I had eaten it aside from Chef Boyardee. Chef Boyardee has been canned! For dessert – tiramisu. I didn’t even think I liked that, but I do!

The nighttime held a welcome of its own. The blue, blue sky framed our lovely home with warm lights emitting a special glow. The sound of a nightingale, which was a new one for me, was like a lullaby! And this lovely place to lay our weary heads and rest for the journey ahead – so special.

One of the challenges for us was adjusting to the eating times in Italy. We had coffee and breakfast in our Siena home, but for the rest of the meals, we had to wing it. Most restaurants closed around 2:30 and didn’t open again until 7:00. It seemed like we all got hungry sometime close to 2:00 and had to scramble to find someplace to eat or else wait until 7:00.

As we walked into Siena, we quickly came across an osteria, which translates – a place of serving wine and simple food. We asked if the eight of us could be seated but it was not possible. How about two tables of four? Again, no. As we turned to leave, the hostess came to us and asked if we could split into two tables and be finished eating in an hour and a half as she had reservations for that time. I told her, “No problem. We’re Americans. We excel at eating fast.”

So cozy!

The wine cellar

As we entered La Taverna di San Giuseppe, we didn’t feel like there was anything “simple” about the place. It was as inviting as a warm hug and a perfect reflection of everything Tuscan. There was a wine cellar downstairs which could be seen from our dining table. It was the perfect photo op. Bob and I ordered lasagna, something I don’t order at home. It was delicious and unlike anything I have tasted our side of the Atlantic. There was no red sauce, and the ricotta cheese was whipped as smooth as Barry White.

The outside of the restaurant was covered in Michelin plaques and the restaurant is featured in their guide, but I couldn’t figure out if it actually achieved star status, so I simply have awarded it 2 stars. After consulting with the other seven of our group and hearing rave reviews, it was the least I could do.

Leave a comment
by Bonnie Anderson on May 9, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Europe, Friendship, Travel
Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on May 9, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/05/09/its-always-a-good-time-for-tuscany/

Shootout in Ocklawaha!

Years ago, Bob and I took a day trip through the Ocala area to encounter a part of Florida which was unknown to us. During that time, we had lunch on the edge of beautiful Lake Weir in Ocklawaha, just down the shoreline from the house where the Justice Department (not yet the FBI, though under the leadership of J. Edgar Hoover) gunned down two members of the infamous Karpis-Barker gang in their famous raid of 1935. This is touted as the longest FBI shootout in history. The house where this occurred is now called the Bradford – Ma Barker house. The Bradford part is because Ma Barker had rented the Bradford home through a mutual acquaintance. It was to be their summer hideout, unbeknownst to Mr. Bradford who enjoyed it as a hunting retreat and get-away from his main home in the Miami area.

The 2100 sq. ft. house has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is well-equipped for the day and the living area is spacious.

We tried to get an up-close look at the house that day but could only get as close as the edge of the property along the street. We dared not trespass as that was clearly forbidden by the signage on the property, but months later we saw a news report that the house, which was built in the 1930s, was being moved across the lake to its now permanent residence in the Carney Island Recreation and Conservation Area, a part of Marion County Parks and Rec Department. Mr. Bradford had maintained ownership of the house after the shoot-out and had gone back for visits frequently. At some point it was sold, and the new owner wanted to build a new house on the lot. He gave the house, bullet holes and all, along with its entire contents, to Marion County, Florida, who arranged for the moving of the house.

My husband alongside a splay of bullet holes in an upper bedroom.

Most people are familiar with Depression era gangsters and mobsters, even if just through movies or TV. John Dillinger, Al Capone, Ma Barker, and especially Bonnie and Clyde were well-known for their nefarious lifestyles. Throughout my life (even as recently as last year), when introduced to someone new, I have often been asked, “Where’s Clyde?” This is accompanied by laughter from the person asking, as if they were the only one to come up with that great line! It’s the cross that I bear as a woman named Bonnie.

The lifestyle of gangsters was somewhat glamorized by TV and movies. For sure there is good story involved in the lives of these people – lots of suspense and intrigue, but only at the cost of suffering and death of their victims – not to mention the terrorizing of communities across the country.

Where my movie and television viewing preferences definitely lie in the comedy genre, a quality comedic offering can be as hard to find as Ma Barker and her gang were back in the 1930s. So, I often find myself ensconced in one of the many action/drama stories, as that selection is huge. I like a good story that I am totally unable to relate to from the comfort of my cozy, safe living room.

There was a movie made in 1960 that told the story of Ma Barker and her killer brood. It’s aptly entitled Ma Barker’s Killer Brood. It’s black and white and doesn’t hold up well; that is if it ever was any good at all. Still, we watched it as a preliminary study before we went to do the tour. It is tremendously inaccurate, and let me save you some time, don’t bother watching it. Instead, come to Florida and take the tour. The tour guide who enlightened us to the Barker gang was the best docent I have ever had.

Our docent in the middle of a captive audience telling of Ma and her gang while standing in the living room. All the furnishings are original.

It was extremely difficult to get a tour date booked. The Carney Island Recreation and Conservation Area, which is part of the Marion County, Florida, Parks and Recreation Department, still takes reservations by phone. You call and get in line, so to speak. They call you back when there is an opening. In our case, it took almost nine months. I could have had a baby in that time! The system may be speeding up by now, so you could possibly get in before the year is out! The tour costs $10 and can be booked by calling 352-671-8560.

Our docent started his “career” by being on the first tour offered by the parks and rec department. He is a gangster junky. When his unfortunate tour guide realized that one of his tourists knew more about Ma Barker than he ever imagined could be known, our docent was hired.

Here’s my version of the tour through photos. Almost all of the furnishings are original. This house is a living museum. We sat on the furniture and put our fingers in the bullet holes. I believe it won’t be long before this place is put on the national historic register, so enjoy it in its relaxed form while you can.

Bob enjoying a rest on the same settee upon which Ma Barker would have sat.

All of the photos on the table (and more) are part of our docent’s personal collection. He told us his wife was happy to have them displayed here.

My friend and fellow blogger, Roxanne, who was my perfect partner in crime that day as she is a huge history buff.

1930s styling! Not bad after a deep cleaning.

original lamp and table

Justice Department picture after their raid, taken on the front porch. They were afraid to go inside the house in case members of the gang were lying in wait. They got the neighbor, Willie Woodberry, a local handyman who did work for Ma, to go in and check out the situation. They gave him a bullet-proof vest and a few bucks. There was nobody left alive inside. Ma and one of her sons were the only ones home and had died in the raid.

A lovely, Florida driveway from the house back to the main part of the park.

2 Comments
by Bonnie Anderson on May 6, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Florida Living
Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on May 6, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/05/06/shootout-in-ocklawaha/

When Things Don’t Stop

Sometimes when I’m having trouble shutting my brain down to go to sleep at the end of the day, I remind myself that it’s a good thing that my brain is working. I also question – if I shut it down, will I be able to start it back up? That, of course, sends my brain on rabbit trails of thought as it strives to stay awake and keep working. Does it not know that it continues to work while I sleep? Stupid brain.

The turning on and off of things (not including brains) is such a common-place event in our day-to-day life that we tend not to think much about it. Before the day has gotten into full swing, one has turned on and off several lights, coffee pots, toasters, computers, television sets, and truly I could go on and on.

Then when it’s time to leave the house, we get in the car and turn that on. Hopefully. Everyone has experienced the failure of a car to start now and again. Usually, a battery problem, which is easily remedied, but nonetheless an inconvenience to some degree.

One fine, sunny Saturday, my mother and I got in my car and turned it on without much of a thought that it would not respond to the pushing of the ignition button. I’ve had my little white (90 percent of all SUVs seem to be white) Ford Escape for nine years now, and it’s been very faithful save an inconvenient time when there were four of us with suitcases loaded into it and the battery failed. But I do not hold that against it.

This particular Saturday we ventured out to do some clothing shopping for Mom. Everything was as normal as normal can be. Until we got back into the car. I pressed the ignition button and the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. So many warnings that one would think the car could possibly just blow up. Surely, I couldn’t drive it.

Parking assist failure. See dealer. Antilock brake light was displayed. The brake light was on even though no emergency brake was in place. Then there was the light that indicated that either the tires would fail to grip the pavement and slide all over the road, or perhaps those two marks were the letter “z” indicating that the car had gone into a sort of automotive coma. There was also an indicator that the airbag might fail. My GPS system, too, was down.

I decided to test the car in the parking lot, so I drove around pumping the brakes to make sure they responded, which they did. It was a straight shot down SR 436 to my home, so we headed there. Mom could go in and I would figure out what to do – or better still, Bob would when he got home.

The trip home was uneventful except the power steering was tight and all the idiot lights were still on alert. I was relieved when I pulled into our garage. I stopped the car and pushed the ignition button to turn it off. Nothing. The car was happy running. I tried several times but to no avail. I had never heard of this sort of problem. I tried to pop my hatch to get Mom’s walker out, but that would not respond either. I opened the side doors, lowered the seats and dragged her walker out the door. Once Mom was inside, I called Bob.

It is my first impulse to call Bob when something breaks down. He is very mechanically inclined and can fix just about anything, but in this case, he was 45 minutes away playing golf. I did not expect him to come home or have a solution. Nevertheless, I interrupted his round with this strange report.

Obviously, he was unable to help. He asked the expected questions, for instance, did I have my foot on the brake? And, am I sure I pushed the ignition button all the way? I can’t fault him for asking the obvious; this was an unusual situation. That was all he had. That was all I had, too.

I called the dealer, and they told me to bring it down. I figured I might as well since it was running and all. On arrival a very tall service technician met me and sat inside my running car sideways. This guy had to be 6’6” and must not have wanted to bother moving my seat. He leaned down to the brake pedal and pushed it with one hand. His other hand he used to turn the car off. It worked. Just like it’s supposed to.

I looked at him and said, “Do you have any idea how annoying this is?”

He chuckled and went on to turn the car on and off several times with no issues. I said he must have some kind of magic touch or maybe the weird way he used his hand instead of his foot must have triggered a “control, alt, delete” situation and rebooted the whole system. Still, I made an appointment to have her looked at. Thankfully, the next appointment was five weeks out because my car has behaved perfectly ever since.

I, on the other hand, was a tad bit nervous to drive it for the first week or so. I definitely didn’t want to be stranded with my mom or take it far from home, so we used Bob’s car for those circumstances. One morning, I figured the car was fine. I wouldn’t allow it to get in my head, so I decided to use it to take Mom to an appointment.

Thoughtlessly, I walked into our garage with the key fob in my hand and simultaneously pressed the garage door opener and the button to open the car’s hatch to put her walker in. I knew right away that was a bad idea as somehow, I got the hatch jammed into the partially opened garage door and neither would move. This was perhaps the dumbest thing I have done in quite a while, so I brought Bob out to see my accomplishment.

I had already tried to force the hatch closed or open, but it was really jammed. The garage door would not respond either. At this rate, there was a good chance I would never leave the house again.

The redeeming moment came while Bob was looking at the mess I’d made. Suddenly, I figured out how to fix it. I got in the car, started it up (thankfully it started), and pulled forward, leaving the garage door free to move up and down. The hatch had only a small ding in the paint, which really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

It’s been almost two months now and no issues. My take-away: When weird stuff happens, and things don’t stop when you want them to, don’t continue doing the same unsuccessful thing. Try a different braking method. Stand on your head. Try using your left hand. Drive to see a professional. Or keep on keeping on until you run out of gas.

Leave a comment
by Bonnie Anderson on November 2, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Stuff I Go Through
Tagged ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on November 2, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/11/02/when-things-dont-stop/

Halloween Hypocrisy

One of the many ways that I’ve probably damaged my kids has to do with Halloween. When I was a kid growing up in Maryland, I liked it quite a lot, unless it was cold, and my mom made me wear a jacket over my costume. I would have rather frozen to death than wear a coat. What was she thinking?

In those days, Halloween involved going through our own neighborhood and knocking on the doors of people we knew. Mrs. Harrington was my favorite as she would give out home-made, hand-decorated cookies. You could not get away with that kind of love in today’s climate. One time as I went through my bounty, I discovered that, like Charlie Brown, I had received a rock – and not the kind of rock that I enjoy today. Unlike him, though, I had plenty of candy. Sometimes it even lasted until Christmas!

Fast forward to having children of my own. By this time, I had become a Christian and was increasingly sensitive to the darkness of Halloween. It seemed the days of mostly cute and fun costumes had shifted to an abundance of costumes and billboards that emphasized evil and scariness. I hated taking our kids out to restaurants and stores where the decorations were scary. I didn’t like subjecting them to that.

When our oldest two were little, we took them trick or treating (one time, as far as I can remember). They donned store-bought costumes and those horrible plastic masks that make your face sweat, and we hit a few houses. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but every year I grew more uncomfortable with it. I didn’t like frightening creatures coming to our front door either. How does one protect their children from all of this darkness? That was our dilemma, and let me tell you, we didn’t handle it particularly well.

Who are those masked children?

We couldn’t take the kids out of the house to avoid the unknown quantities arriving at our front door, because there were so many everywhere. In my head, it was like a zombie apocalypse married Freddy Krueger – a regular nightmare for me. Of course, I may have been a tad over dramatic. I knew that the Bible taught to abstain from all forms of evil, but parts of Halloween were cute – though those parts weren’t as prevalent anymore, plus I wasn’t sure that should matter. So, every year we wrestled in our minds with what to do. One year we even turned on the sprinklers thinking that would keep things quiet, but our neighbor called and told us they were on. She thought it was by accident instead of by design. Sigh.

My best-ever Halloween involved our small group from our church gathering at our house for an evangelistic outreach for our neighborhood. We shoved all our furniture to one side of the house and invited the neighborhood in for a magic show. My dad, who was a magician, came and performed for the kids (and their parents). He had a unique way of weaving the gospel story into his show. Also, that night it rained, so we were packed to the gills.

So, sorry kids. I hope this is the worst way we’ve messed you up. Some of you have pointed out that it was okay for us to take grandchildren around, but you were denied the pleasure. Yep, you are not wrong; that’s inconsistent, too. Though, that’s really on the parents, not the grandparents. We were simply serving while remaining wishy-washy on our Halloween stance.

This was the year that our daughter and her family were briefly living with us while getting ready to move out-of-state. Bob and I had purchased a Hashtag the Bear costume for a church program and Bob put it to use to hang out with the grandkids as they wandered our neighborhood on what may have been the hottest October 31st ever.

I know that most, if not all our kids and their families, like to participate in Halloween trick-or-treating. Even though I have no credibility in this area, I’ll still offer advice to try to keep the kids more focused on Jesus every day and less influenced by the things of this world, including Halloween. And do what your conscience allows. No guilt.

To sum things up: I don’t like Halloween. I was sometimes an inconsistent though well-meaning parent who in a lot of ways was growing right alongside our children. Grandparenting is easier. Now I can buy all the candy we want and get it 70 percent off the day after Halloween. The prices are much less scary.

1 Comment
by Bonnie Anderson on October 26, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith, Family, grandchildren, Holidays
Tagged , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on October 26, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/10/26/halloween-hypocrisy/

Retirement is all Well and Good until…

When I was young, I wanted my doctors to be older and wiser. For sure I did not want a young, good-looking male gynecologist. That would have been weird for me in those days of my youth. Now, I want my medical professionals to be young enough to see me through without retiring but a few years removed from medical school. The same goes for my hairdresser except for the med school part.

As a young married woman of 19, I did not know of a female ob/gyn in the field. Now, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a female doctor. See how things have changed! Plus, if you did swing a dead cat, you’d probably be in trouble with PETA, so I think I need a new saying.

As you may have gathered by now, I have recently had two people who have treated me with kindness and professionalism in their respective fields retire. The first was my gyn who has seen me through that lovely time of life which women go through and who was going through it at the same time. I tell you what – that was a match. At least it was until she went the way of so many people our age and retired. This field of medicine is not at the top of my needs list anymore, but nevertheless I am searching for a new practitioner. Sigh. At least this time there are plenty of women doctors from whom to choose.

Finding a new hairdresser after nearly 30 years with the same talented woman is a bit more daunting. No one other than Teya has cut my hair in all that time. Once during COVID I was forced to get my color touch-up from another when Teya had COVID. Bob and I were going to his 50th high school reunion. You don’t want your roots showing at that event – that’s for sure. You either want to be full-on gray or colored – none of that awkward in-between stuff. Having a stranger’s hands in my hair was weird for me. I felt a bit like I was cheating on Teya, but I had no choice (other than go with my roots showing or covering them up with a temporary fix or not going – other than those three things, I had no choice).

I sent this picture to Teya to show her the weird day I was having without her.

So, when it was time to find a new hairdresser, I was more than a little nervous. I asked myself if perhaps now was the time to go gray (now referred to as natural) and let my locks just keep on growing – maybe embrace my inner hippy who seemed to disappear somewhere after having my fourth child. But, alas, vanity said, “No!” I like my “natural” look and will likely continue it as long as it’s in the budget.

Before I found Teya, I had some bad experiences such as a person who was getting ready to cut my hair asking the stylist next to her, “What would you do with this?” I should have run out of there, but I was young. Also, I had often asked myself the same question about my curly hair. I was taken back but too timid to stand up for myself at that point.

I also had been overprocessed from highlights to the point that when I look back at those pictures, I wonder what I was thinking, but I digress. Teya had rescued my abused hair and introduced me to the wonderful, though expensive, world of “products.” She was experienced and not intimidated at all by my thick, curly hair. I think she was happy to perform her magic on me. The before and after can be quite satisfying.

So, when she told me she was retiring and moving away (she is so good that I’m sure several of us clients would have shown up on her doorstep if she hadn’t), I cried. Not only was I losing an amazing hairdresser, but I was losing a friend and a way of life that I enjoyed and in which I found myself quite comfortable.

Comfort. What a beautiful word! One can comfort another in times of difficulties and loss. And one receives comfort in like manner from those in our family and communities, and at times even from the perfect stranger. If there is such a thing as a perfect anything, a stranger who offers you comfort would fill that bill. But once again, I digress.

My roots were beginning to make an appearance and I knew it was time to jump into the pool of hairdressers and find a new one. You might not think it was a struggle, but it was. I like the familiar and I’m not a fan of the unknown. Even though it can bring new joys and friendships, it also might bring a bad haircut.

One morning before church, I spotted my friend’s granddaughter, Kate, who is a hairdresser. I’ve known her since she was born and she has been working for a few years, so she fits two of my qualifications – she would not likely retire before I die, and she has been working for a few years.

I approached her and began my lament. I used so many words; it was ridiculous. I told her my story and I told her my fears. I told her I was concerned that if I went to someone I know and was not happy with my results, I would feel awful not returning. I would probably have to move or something just to spare her the rejection. I could feel myself beginning to tear up. I fought back the tears – I think successfully. I acquired her phone number and said I’d call for an appointment. I’m pretty sure I also scared her to death. I’m surprised she didn’t change her phone number, but she was gracious.

Two weeks later I was sitting in her studio – a trendy, comfortable studio for one. It was so cute and inviting – just like Kate. I had given Kate my “formula” and she went above and beyond by ordering the exact color products that Teya had used. That scored major points with me. Plus, she is ten minutes from my house in Altamonte Springs, Florida.

As I sat down, with my hair literally in a new stylist’s hands, I was nervous, but I think Kate was more. She didn’t really show it, but later as I talked with my friend/her grandmother, she let it slip. I haven’t let her cut my hair yet, so the jury is still out, but if her ability with color and her sweet personality are indicators, I think she may be stuck with me unless she retires and moves away. Poor Kate!

2 Comments
by Bonnie Anderson on October 19, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in aging, Stuff I Go Through
Tagged , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on October 19, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/10/19/retirement-is-all-well-and-good-until/

The Letter Tray

You never know what you’ll bring home from traveling. I’m not talking about the occasional cold or COVID, which we have brought home on a few occasions. I’m talking about memories, which tend to inevitably fade or morph a bit over time. It helps to recount those stories to keep from losing them altogether. We also bring home journals, photographs, and souvenirs, all in an effort to remember. It has been our practice to collect small items which we can display in a printers letter tray which has hung on our wall for longer than I can remember. At least it did until two years ago when we turned our home office into a guest room. At that point the letter tray was stuffed into a closet and all its contents wrapped and placed into a box.

You might not think it from my prior statement, but this letter tray is special to us. It was part of my father-in-law’s printing business, which was housed in their basement in Maryland. It’s probably an antique – maybe not when he bought it though. When he stopped using the trays, he gave a few of them to us. We kept one and gave a couple of them to friends. That brings me to our Scandinavian cruise which we took in July with two of those friends, Mike and Moggie.

As Moggie and I perused the Scandinavian shops, she pointed out a few things that would fit in the letter tray. Apparently, I had stuffed the memory of it in the closet with the tray itself; but Moggie awakened the idea of filling it anew with things from this trip. We had a great time together searching out small items. By the time we got home, I had quite the collection.

As we went through our stash of stuff, I showed Bob all the treasures which would go in the letter tray. He was very (read – moderately) excited and asked me where I would like to hang the tray and did I even know where it was. Of course, I knew, I told him. I was pretty sure anyway.

I would not put it in the guest room because some of our guests are young and it would be too tempting for them to completely rearrange things and/or break them in the process. The hallway seemed to be the right place. Yes, the hall. Only thing, I’ve been wanting to repaint the hall. We have been in our house for eight years now and down that hall we had hung a decent number of pictures of our kids growing up. I was ready to make the change from these 30- to 40-year-old pictures, which was kind of a big deal for me.

To be clear, I don’t paint. I have tried that in the past and I am stunningly bad at it. So bad that it is far easier for Bob to paint than it would be for him to fix the mess that I would make with a paint brush and live with me while I attempted the job. He was happy to paint the hall, but the rest was on me. I was fine with that arrangement.

I took down the pictures – over 20 of them. Most of them were 8×10. I didn’t want to rehang them, but I didn’t want to pitch them either. A trip to Hobby Lobby yielded a photo album with pages I could slip my 8x10s into without having to agonize over them. One larger picture I simply photographed with my phone and then threw it away. I was on a roll!

I chose my favorite paint color – Universal Khaki, aka taupe. By now the paint job had grown into our foyer area, but in a couple of days, Bob had it looking great. It took me two weeks to finish my part. We had company coming in and I couldn’t have my dining room looking like this when they arrived. That gave me a helpful deadline.

I wanted fresh pictures on display. The section of the foyer wall with our grandchildren’s pictures was also pitifully dated, so that had to change. My idea was to hang a variety of pictures which would warm my heart when I looked at them. They didn’t have to be professional quality. They just had to make me smile and there had to be a representation of all of our kids and grands.

On one of my many trips to Hobby Lobby, I took the original artwork for the cover of my book, Always Look for the Magic. They were very helpful in picking out a mat and the perfect frame to display this prize that had been in my drawer for five years.

(If you’d like to order my book, here is a link)

In addition to trips to Home Goods to buy new frames, I also pulled out several frames which I had purchased over the years with the good intentions of filling them with pictures. Some of these frames had made the move from our old house and I decided it was use them or lose them. So, while I was at it, I made collages of Bob and me in our travels for our bedroom walls.

In another closet were shelves that a few years ago Bob and our friend, Al, had fixed up for me to display some of the painted rocks from the Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive. Somehow, I remembered them and now they are part of my hallway display. After all was said and done, I had redone pictures in seven rooms in our house.

When the grandkids came to visit, they all liked finding themselves on display down the hallways, even if they didn’t necessarily love the photo choices I made. I asked them which ones they didn’t like and assured them with a smile that I would not be making any changes for another eight years at least. They really didn’t mind. They are the best.

One of the toughest parts of this project was getting the letter tray, which started the entire process, hung in the proper place. Funny thing, after all the painting, shopping, agonizing, and framing, it seemed the hall was not the best place for it. I ended up hanging it in the living room. Bob didn’t say a word.

7 Comments
by Bonnie Anderson on October 12, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Family, grandchildren, Travel
Tagged , , , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on October 12, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/10/12/the-letter-tray/

The Land of Fire and Ice and Embarrassing Questions

When you are in Iceland and your husband asks the tour guide what he thinks of Jaja Ding Dong, you hope it’s a short tour. You wonder if he will be misunderstood, or even worse if the question is too self-disclosing about our taste in modern film (which for me leans toward funny, silly, and witty). This movie was recommended to us because we were traveling to Iceland and because I like Will Ferrell, at least most of the time.

Well, our lovely twenty-something guide responded with, “I loved it.”

Whew! And in case you are unaware, Jaja Ding Dong is the catchy song from the movie Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga, which was set in Iceland. While the song itself is not featured heavily, it is often referred to and it has a catchy tune. FYI, it is also laced with sexual innuendos. Where we may fail to remember the title of the movie, it was easily identified by our tour guide by the mention of this song.

She was excited that Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga brought some attention to the continent-wide competition, which began in 1956. It is still going strong today. You may have heard of the winner from 1974 – a group called Abba singing Waterloo.

Here’s a clip: https://youtu.be/Xe40P8qzQh4

The interesting thing about our conversation with our guide and the reason why this deserved a mention is that it was this very movie which inspired her to move to Iceland. Ah, to be young again! She watched the movie and fell in love with Húsavík, the little-acclaimed Icelandic town in which our singing competition hopefuls, Lars and Sigrit, reside. She had previously lived on an island in Germany. Yes, there are islands in Germany – that was new to me. I guess she really likes the island life. She confessed to the same and told us she can’t handle hot weather. She hates it. I should clarify that the weather that day was what I called chilly, and she called hot. So, clearly, we had to define terms.

This conversation took place during our Jewels of the North excursion out of Akureyri, Iceland. The tour is aptly named. This region is stunningly beautiful and diverse. It included geothermal features, waterfalls, and rock formations.

I felt like a kid again as we searched for trolls disguised as rock formations during our hikes in the region of Skutustadahreppur. That’s how they trick you, you know.

Can you see the faces?

I couldn’t help but think about Yellowstone National Park as we toured the geothermic area in this region. Fascinating!

Mud Pots

The waterfalls were breathtaking.

Godafoss – foss means waterfall

During the first few days in Iceland, I thought I’d never get warm. It’s a far cry from Florida.

I especially loved the Icelandic horses, which pepper the landscape. You might be tempted to call them ponies because of their smaller size, but the locals are adamant about it. They are horses and the only breed allowed on the island. They are hearty and sure-footed, which is important in a terrain of volcanic soil.

A side note, there are no food crops produced in Iceland. Farms are only for livestock. The only crops grown are grass and hay to feed the animals. This explains why we were hard-pressed to find a decent salad during our short stay there. There would be plenty of time to eat our vegetables once we were home.

This is a geothermal power plant. They pump the heated water from the springs into town and heat the houses through radiators. The hot water when we took a shower in Ryjkjavik smelled less than delightful – like sulpher. We are told you get used to it. We didn’t.

We also experienced a few earthquakes while there. This is nothing new to the locals and didn’t freak us out either, but they had increased in number and intensity indicating that a volcano eruption was imminent. On July 10, just after we left that side of the island, Litli-Hrutur erupted. It is part of the Fagradalsfjall Volcano system, which I am only sharing with you so you can try to pronounce the names. Icelandic is a Germanic language, like English, though I was unable to pronounce 95 percent of the words I read. They use a lot of letters! English speaking persons are at a great advantage as they travel. I am thankful for that.

Leave a comment
by Bonnie Anderson on July 31, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Europe, Travel
Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on July 31, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/07/31/the-land-of-fire-and-ice-and-embarrassing-questions/

Why Can’t I Whistle?

Oh, the hours that I have spent contemplating my lack of whistling ability! Oh, the lamenting!

I have literally spent no time grieving over this. Why bother? I have resolved that I missed the whistle gene, and that’s okay. Except for birding…

I would love to whistle like the songbirds that visit my feeder, but long ago I ditched that thought. I can do a decent barred owl, but that doesn’t involve whistling. My red-shouldered hawk is not too shabby, but that’s only because it’s more like a shriek – that I can do.

That is the backstory to help you understand the challenges a recent gift has afforded me. For my birthday last month, my son, Joe, gave me a book and asked if I would like to read it together. Joe likes birds like I do, so he thought of me when he discovered Conversations with Birds – The Metaphysics of Bird and Human Communication by Alan Powers.

It may be helpful for you to know that Joe is a philosophy professor. I told Joe that I loved the idea. The title had something for me – conversations with birds, and something for him – metaphysics.

It is a running joke with me, myself, and I that I cannot understand the true meaning of the word metaphysics. I asked Joe if, after finishing this book, would that change. He was confident that it would not. He gets me.

We plunged in. Our first goal was to go through chapters one and two. Chapter One is Basic Bird, with a minor emphasis on the mourning dove. Chapter Two gets down to business – The Year of the Oriole. That is ironic since the baseball team of the same name, which is my team, is having their best year in recent history, a fact that I mentioned to Joe and one of the ways that I seem to stray off topic.

Joe is good at stretching me, so I was prepared to look up words as I read. I was not prepared for the number of musical terms the author uses. And I was taken aback on Page One when he stated, “Now we advance to whistling. Start with the minor third, usually descending, like the first two notes of our national anthem…”

I texted Joe with a reminder that I can’t whistle. This is something that hasn’t held me back in life and I wondered if it would hold me back as we read this book. As I said, I’m reconciled to the fact that I’m a non-whistler. He assured me that I would be fine.

Just in case, I googled “why can’t I whistle?”

Google excels at responding to simplicity in their searches. I was immediately linked to vox.com where on 8/13/15, Joseph Stromberg wrote an in-depth article including techniques to practice. In no time flat, I began to whistle. I won’t be entering any competitions. But, there is hope for this 67-year-old. Evidently you can teach an old older person a new trick.

You might be expecting me to share a video of me whistling. Well, don’t hold your breath. I’m pretty transparent with my writing, but at this point, I’m just a baby whistler!

I will share this video of a high-achieving whistler instead. Enjoy!

Leave a comment
by Bonnie Anderson on June 29, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Birding, Family, Stuff I Go Through
Tagged , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on June 29, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/06/29/why-cant-i-whistle/

Life on the Lighter Side: Swimsuit Edition

Once again, and in a mind-boggling way, I can truly say, “I’m no Martha Stewart!”

I just watched her remarking about her Sports Illustrated photo shoot. She’s on the cover of the swimsuit edition, for crying out loud. She’s 81 years old, or young, or mature, however you want to put it.  She is amazing and articulate and brave. I love that she wants to make women feel better about themselves at whatever age.

Even though I personally have qualms with these SI issues, I do share her sentiment of wanting to make women feel good about themselves, but my platform is a tiny bit smaller than Martha’s. The only thing that Martha and I really have in common are X chromosomes.

But along that vein and pushing all vanity aside, I am posting a recent photo of my husband and me in our swimsuits as we walked along a secluded beach in Fort Pierce, Florida. It is a good reminder that the paparazzi are everywhere, and my sister acted as one of them when she took this from our oceanfront balcony. This is the only picture of us from that trip. I don’t sit for a lot of swimsuit pictures. Actually, standing is always a more favorable pose, and the further away the better, but I digress.

To sum up: I’ll never keep a house or calendar that looks anything like Martha’s. I’ll never have a dinner party that could hold a candle to hers. I’ll never be on the cover of SI or any magazine, especially in a swimsuit. I’m okay with that.

The flip side: I’m very satisfied with my abilities as a housekeeper and my calendar works for me, too. I will host the occasional game night or dinner party, and sometimes I may use paper plates. It only took me five or six decades, but I’ve reconciled myself with my feelings about my body. It suits me just fine. I still will decline any and all offers from Sports Illustrated – in case anyone asks.

In conclusion and to make this truly a swimsuit edition, I offer two pictures of some bathing suit clad relatives of mine hamming it up in front of the camera. The close-up is my mom and her mother with her cousin Dotty in the background offering a serious pose at the now defunct Oakwood Inn in St. Michael’s, Maryland – Maryland’s Eastern Shore. The sliding board picture was likely taken in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Both pics are circa 1945.

Have a happy summer!

Leave a comment
by Bonnie Anderson on May 23, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in aging, Celebrities
Tagged , , ,

Posted by Bonnie Anderson on May 23, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/05/23/life-on-the-lighter-side-swimsuit-edition/

« Older Posts