Can't even Pull off Angsty...

Well, as seems to be my M.O. - I had high hopes of sticking to a writing schedule with the Sunday Picture Challenge being a fiction installment and a post later in the week on something more 'coast-y'.

One post in and I lost all ideas.

And interest.

I wish I could pinpoint a cause.

Life is good around here.

Maybe that's the problem.

I have no angsty, dysfunctional complaints.

I mean, take a look – even the first 10 random songs on my ipod are happy...

American Kids

Kenny Chesney

First off, let it be known that I have exactly ONE Kenny Chesney song on my ipod. I hate to admit that there are a handful more of his that I like, as long as they are the more Trop-Rock and less of the whiney country ones.

Second, note that this song is about people who have everything and are enjoying it.

Hello, I Love You

The Doors

A love song in its most bare element...and Jim Morrison...come on, long haired hippy with a smokey voice....

Hot Fun in the Summer-Time

Sly and the Family Stone

Its right there in the title. Hot fun. In the Summer....

Whenever I Call You Friend

Kenny Loggins

Of note, this was the FIRST Kenny on my playlist. He will always evoke good 'feels' for those early adult days when nothing was complicated.

And, its a song about friends no matter what...

The Way

Fastball

So, this one I had to look up.

I was ready to blame this one on the kids and their one time joint use of our i-tunes account until I listened to it.

On the surface it is a song about two people chucking everything and taking off together. Living the dream. Oh sure, it is probably, in that 90's manner, a superbly depressing take on excess but on the surface...well...its right there in the refrain:

"anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold

and it's always summer, they'll never grow old"

This is the most accurate description of my current situation there ever was.

Chasing Hemingway's Ghost

Scott Kirby

The story of an artist following his dream.

Or, how I like to see myself...

Hungry Heart

Bruce Springstein

This may actually be the saddest song on the list. Guy deserts wife, meets some tramp in Kingston, leaves her too...

But Bruce is notoriously hard to understand and there is just something exciting and energizing about the music...

The Tiki Bar is Open

Jimmy Buffett

(written by John Hyatt)

Alcoholic on the wagon falls off because the Tiki Bar is open...

Again, maybe if you scratch the surface not the most inspirational.

But, its summer.

This is a bouncy, happy song.

And we just got back from an awesome Tiki Bar in Chicago...

Three Dots and a Dash - the wall of skulls as you wander down the stairs from the alley...
Three Dots and a Dash is morse code for V as in Victory

note the 3 dotes, and 1 dash garnish

the signature drink and glass

Lucky

Jason Mraz

The song's title is LUCKY.

Come on people.

Brown Eyed Girl

Van Morrison

This actually had me laughing out loud.

For starters, who doesn't love a good Van Morrison tune. And this one is such an iconic song.

A friend of ours, who played drums in a weekend band, once lamented the fact that all they every do is play Brown Eyed Girl, left our table when the break was over to return to the first request of the second set from the table full of bridesmaids – you guessed it – Brown Eyed Girl.

Also, I am a Brown Eyed Girl.

And, if you haven't noticed, every RomCom this side of 2005 is required by law to have at least three Van Morrison songs in it.

I was a little sad to see my new favorite song – Havana by Camila Cabello – didn't make the random cut. But hey, its my blog and I can add her in just like this...

Here's wishing each of you a non-angsty, happy-go-lucky playlist and summer.

I'll be back, eventually.

Hope you will be too!

the result of Three Dots and a Dash...
exotic flower and skull pics sold separately 

Mmmmmoist

It is 6am here on the Coast of Illinois and the temperature is already near 80, humidity in the triple digits. (Yes, triple digits. That's when it is so humid you can actually watch the moisture squeeze onto plants...)

look closely. you can actually see the droplets forming. even in a still picture...

Just two months ago we were complaining about the cold and lamenting the fact that summer would never arrive.

We were fools in that earlier time.

never thought we would see these again...

Now, older and sweatier, we understand.

Summer is here. If not calenderly, then at least in a temperate manner.

can't you hear them singing...Hot Hot Hot.....

I, for one, am thrilled.

There is nothing better than sitting on the deck in those early morning moments, eating breakfast, sipping coffee – which still manages to get cold despite the thermonuclear power of the rising sun – watching the cat melt into the deck as the squirrels desicrate the bird feeder.

I long to absorb every once of humidity, every bit, until my hair is so frizzy I can barely fit through the door. I delight in the dampness on my skin from the sheer effort of turning the page of the book I am reading. I consider it a free cleaning when my glasses fog to opacity when I exit the air-conditioned space of home to get to the car and then, in reverse from car to house.

Because in just a few short months it will be winter again and that person who lamented the slowness of summer only to immediately bitch about the heat and humidity, will return to their giant puffy coat and whine about heating bills.

Enjoy the moment!

to me, nothing simultaneously says cool shade and pourable humidity like these leaves.

(this brief, slightly griping post brought to you by a little too much sun exposure while reading in the sun...)

Scenes From a Holiday Morning...

 ...in the style of a Vogue feature interview. My Apologies to Ms Wintour and her staff. Also Annie Lebovitz; I love your work. Should I ever get a book published I really want you to do my cover shoot....

It is early morning, the nearly pristine quiet interrupted only by the calling of birds, the rustle of leaves and the incessant meowing of a cat whose verbal demands have brought us here. Here being a garden, curated as though by a mental patient. The author is posed in a careful stance as the aforementioned cat, now in halter and on leash, pokes through the ornamental grasses on the gentle slope of the slowly eroding side yard.

"I try to tell myself I am a morning person. Which I am, if morning would only start about three hours later." The author pauses and takes a sip of pour-over coffee from the hand thrown mug, echoing the many green shades of the yard.

It is 6:32 AM. 

An eclectic mix of geegaws and foliage. Isn't the word 'eclectic' great?

We meander slowly, a drunkards path around gardens bursting with pink astilbe and blue spiderwort, the slowly ripening buds of the daylilies promising bursts of tiger orange in a couple of weeks. It is on, into the front past the heroically leafed split leaf sumac. "I found it on clearance, between a hibiscus with three leaves and a yuca the size of Arizona. The fact that it's still here speaks well of its constitution. A real survivor."
 

Never mind the poisonous name...

We pause dramatically and contemplate our place in the universe compared to this bargain-bin topiary before continuing our feline ambulation down a set of crumbling steps until we finally arrive at our destination, both the beginning and the end of this journey.

The deck.

With cat safely at rest in dappled sun, we sit on the custom Adirondack chairs and survey the landscape. 

Cat, as scene in 'transfer' filter.

The author sips a second, third, fourth cup of coffee while snacking on succulent berries and pausing now and again to take in the delicate thump of a squirrel as it misses its mark on the bird feeder and lands belly first on the ground below.

Accidental holiday colors. tastes like Americana. berries and marscapone courtesy of purchase at Fresh Thyme. Plate by Old Time Pottery

Can't get enough of this 'transfer' filter. Or that fantastic hand-thrown mug.

"Truthfully, I have always found this time, this place a little magical." She nods to the corner of the deck where a day-glow yellow finch has alighted to take a sip from the bird bath before returning to decimate the thistle feeder. 

 

Bird behind deck chairs. Chairs, family heirloom (read hand-me-down), tablecloth from Target, bird by God. He makes the best stuff.

"The first summer we were here, I found these miniature orchid like blooms all over the yard. I was certain there was an orchid tree hidden above me somewhere, sprinkling these blossoms down. As it turns out, it was only the catalpa tree. But just think of the possibility! A tree of orchid blossoms." She smiles to herself and you can begin to imagine the mystery...

Tulip? Sycamore? Nope, Catalpa. Aka Cigar tree, Lady Cigar tree, that freakingly tall tree that's going to get struck by lightening and crash through our roof someday in a tornado. The wood is sometimes used as 'tonewood' in acoustic guitars. So when the day comes...

"Now the yard is spotted with a multitude of wild strawberries. The remnants of my first attempt at growing things. A sort of herbaceous testament to my gardening schizophrenia." And the birds highly effective method of spreading seeds.

And indeed, if you look closely there are über-tiny berries, deep red against the verdant green of creeping charlie, dandelion and wild violet leaves which constitute the back lawn.

Mysterious 'orchid' blossoms. Actually the flower from the Catalpa tree near a rogue wild strawberry.

"Some would grab the Hüsqvarna and till up the entire area, replacing the nubby growth with a carpet of Kentucky Blue Grass." She chuckles under her breath. Takes another swig of coffee and returns to the latest edition of Vogue. 

Some.
But not here.

Because this is the Coast of Illinois.

And that's not how magic works.

Especially when you have been up since 6am, drank an entire pot of coffee and read three back issues of Anna Wintour's finest...

The author, sans shower or makeup but with double chin. Pajamas - Victoria by Victoria Secrets. Linen shirt by LizWear, a gift from a friend on a random trip to Mexico. and again with that hand blown coffee mug. Seriously Chris, start selling these.

 (It is Memorial Day. May it be a meaningful day to all.)

Flip FLop

Ah, the Flip Flop.

A fun sound to make. 

A fun name to say.

A successful home show on HGTV.

And once, a sort of insulting political campaign...

The Flip Flop.

The quintessential summer shoe.

A little research revealed a history dating back to ancient Egypt. The current incarnation dates from the 50's, post WWII when service men discovered the convenience and comfort of a similar sandal worn by the Japanese.

I think I got my first pair of Flip Flops when I was around 8 or 9. There was concern over my inability to walk in a full coverage shoe, let alone one that only covered the bottom of my feet. As I recall, there were weeks of blisters from the tab between my Big Toe and the little piggy which always stayed home. And just about the time the blisters were healed and I could walk without tripping, the plug, which held the tab in place would flip out of the rubber sole. It was replaceable, to a point, at which the entire rubber sole would rip in two.

Wasn't there a Beatles song called Rubber Sole?

It is beginning to make sense.....

Those first Flip Flops cost about a buck.

Fast forward about 50 years.

There are the old school Flip Flips.

You know, for public showers...

not my original pair, but very very close

There are Flip Flops which promise to firm your thighs and butt.

I can't really testify to this, but I will say these were a life saver when the dreaded plantar fasciitis hit.

These had the potential to be the most expensive pair of flip flops I have ever seen. I purchased them on sale with a coupon and a rewards card.

And the Fancy Flip Flop.

Real gemstones? Only my bank account knows for sure. 

This is just a small cross-section of what's available. No matter what the style, a good pair of Flip Flops can get you just about anywhere.

Just don't call them 'Thongs'.

Especially in front of your children, or hipsters, or men...

Coast of Illinois's SECRETS to a Landlocked Beach Life***

F- Flip Flops. Love them, wear them, don't call them Thongs.
E - Extravagance, everyday should be so

D - Drinks, may all your responsibly enjoyed drinks be boat/beach drinks*

C - Coppertone,or any other sunscreen. Use IT!

B - Books. Read Them!

 A - Attitude is everything!

 

This post is part of the A to Z Challenge. Click on the link, page down to the comments and check out some of the other posts from participants!  (So, I was a little late this time, Friday became my day off, rather than this coming Sunday. It took awhile to dig the Flip flops out of the closet...)

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/ 

Random Thoughts, A Food Truck and Meet Monty

A word of warning for all you guys who read this blog: This post begins with many lady-words. Grab a beer, put your hand down your pants and skim down to the photos if you wish. However, the photos DO NOT have anything to do with lady-words.

So just settle down.

I have been wanting to update the Coast for quite some time. I have numerous ideas and photos but as it turns out, the link between my brain and the actual words has been disconnected.

My brain has turned to mush.

You see, I stopped my hormone replacement therapy (HRT) about 10 weeks ago. I was having headaches and discovered the one constant was the medication I was taking at bedtime. Stopped the med and the headaches stopped. Instantly!

DISCLAIMER: HRT is a personal choice and starting as well as stopping should be down after discussion with your MD. Which I have done extensively for my own personal issues.

Anyway, once I had no more headaches I felt great.

For about six weeks.

And then the hot flashes restarted. But this time they are accompanied by insomnia and freeze flashes.

SERIOUSLY?

It seems my hypothalamus has decided to play thermo-roulette.

Add to that the ten thousand degree humidity here on the Coast of Illinois and I can go from zero to five thousand degrees in 2.2 seconds then just as quickly spiral downward to negative thirty-two. This sudden freeze is new to me. I have always been a pretty thermo-neutral person.

It does me no good to put on a sweater – the freeze doesn't last that long. And as to rolling up my shirt to air out...well, that is STILL socially unacceptable in most situations.

Consequently, I have been on the AttentionDeficit Express.

My sweet husband, in an attempt to settle me down, surprised me with an overnight stay in Grafton, Illinois-(more on that in an upcoming post)- and while it was wonderful and relaxing and delicious, all I could think of as I sat on the hotel deck on Sunday morning, sipping my coffee and watching the barge boats, was this: Just how many people have used this hotel coffee maker to wash their underwear?

You know what? I don't care! Underwear coffee is delish. Especially when sitting outside watching the actual working Coast of Illinois.

A thought put in my head by a discussion with my so-called friends regarding just how clean hotel rooms really are.

Why? Why do you people do this to me?

Back to reality, and work, I found that taking melatonin does help me feel sleepy. However feeling sleepy and actually sleeping are two different things. On night six of barely sleeping I was so tired I honestly couldn't open my eyes yet I couldn't fall asleep. (I highly suggest this torture as a way to truly weed out our presidential candidates.)

I spoke with the nurse at my doctor's office, and after she finished laughing at my discovery that stopping HRT causes a return of hot flashes and insomnia, she offered to send me out a sleep aid.

I am terrified of these pills.

I feel I would be entirely too susceptible to sleep eating, sleep driving and sleep gambling – which I can only assume I would be just as bad at as awake gambling.

Being the health-care professional that I am, I did what most people do. I ignored the doctor's advice and after working three 10-hour shifts in a major trauma center when the 1000 beds available were all full yet people continue to shoot, run-over and fail to take actual care of themselves, I returned home, changed the sheets, bathed in a lavender 'sleep' bath, sprayed the new sheets with lavender 'sleep' spray. I ignored the news, Facebook and all other social media, opened the window – as our AC was out due to a Wizard of Oz worthy storm – and passed out.

It is amazing what an actual good night sleep will do.

I am still not quite back to normal.

There are some who would argue that I have never been there.

But I am beginning to feel a little more like myself.

I have continued to limit my exposure to the hyper-insane news.

I am hiding everyone who posts ridiculous, poorly researched news items on Facebook.

I have started exercising again.

And I am making myself sit down and write.

I apologize if this post is not quite up to my usual silliness.

Let me make it up to you with this pictorial.

I call it:

My 70-Something Parents Meet Their First Food Truck!

This is the General Sherman Hot Dog Truck. It stopped at our local grocery store.

This is Dad. He is ordering two hot dogs. And a water. And a root beer. He is fuzzy because it is ONE MILLION DEGREES OUTSIDE.

This is Mom. This outing was part of her birthday celebration. She and I decided to split a dog.  Nothing but the best for Mom!

It seems the mustard was a little more difficult than anticipated. You can do it Mom!

While the folks wanted to take their hot dogs home to dine in the comfort of air conditioning, I made them eat outside, standing up like proper food truck hipsters. The dogs were delish.

And then we went in to grocery shop and LOOK! An ice cream sundae bar set up just for us! Don't you love when the world works in your favor!

Stay cool everyone! This is the time of year when we must remember – Come January temps in the zeros we will be praying for July again!!

 

Say hello to Monty! He has finally made his way to his station outside our front door. 

 Welcome to the Coast of Illinois!

I'm On Vacation. Don't Hate Me

Welcome to my summer vacation.
I fully intend to do some new writing over the next eleven days off...okay, more like eight days now. I have pictures from a local small boat messabout. I have thoughts swimming in my head regarding my upcoming birthday. I am notes for a short story.
I promise you, there will be new and original posts upcoming. 
But today, I must make a traditional family snack to take to a swim party, and when my daughter found out I was making this particular treat she asked in her tiny four year old girl voice, "can I get some of those....?" 
This particular snack is not one handed down from my German forefathers. But it is my contribution to my family's handful of iconic foods. Right up there with my Mom's fried chicken and French Cookies, German Grandma's Springerlies and French Grandma's pies. I found the recipe in Seventeen Magazine when I was around 14 years old. Which means I have been making them for forty years. 
Wow. I could have gone a long time without doing that math. 
But, I digress.
So, without further ado...

It's Scroodle Time!

What follows is the original post I wrote in 2012 on Scroodles. 
Enjoy!

 Suck It Dr. Atkins!

So, not only am I devoted to getting people to see the weird and interesting in their everyday life. I am also dedicated to getting people to eat the weird and interesting as well. Food, that is, not people. Calm down, that's not what I meant either, this is not THAT sort of site...

Anyway... I have always been an adventurous eater and have happily raised a family of the same. We were enjoying hummus WAY before it was hip. Which leads me to the introduction of one of our favorite snacks: Scroodles.

These are boiled then fried corkscrew macaroni. That's right. Boiled. Then fried. And then liberally doused with garlic salt. The trifecta of dietary no-no's. Totally white flour CARBS – fried in CRISCO – the covered with SALT.

Yum. 

its like my arteries on a really hot day...

Oh, and Sorry about the Suck It, Dr. Atkins. That was really just an attention getting ploy. I am sure Dr. Atkins was a wonderfully delightful person, who before he became all Anti-Carb would have enjoyed Scroodles. God Rest His Soul.

 

Scroodles. Or, the crap they pull of out or your arteries.

PS - didn't Dr. Atkins actually die of a heart attack? Perhaps if he had re-examined the joy of deep fat fried noodles... 

As a note - I recently made these with Brown Rice Noodles, because that's what I happened to have in the house. Not only were they even better than the plain noodles, they have the added benefit of being GLUTEN FREE! 
Ha! Take that diet!!

Respite

It has suddenly become summer here on the Coast. My yard is dried up green. My flowers are faded. The squirrels have built a raft and refuse to get out of the birdbath. My hair is so frizzy I must turn sideways to get through the door.

And my brain has shriveled to prune size. Not 'dried plum'. I am talking withered and wrinkly prune.

I have no hope of seeing a beach. But my swimsuit hangs at the ready. 

It is so lonely and not salty here by the door...

See you again, soon!

Oh! PS- you can now check the Coast of Illinois out on Instagram!! @coastofillinois

Helloooo Summer!

It is 8:15 on Sunday. Memorial Day weekend 2015.

The neighbor, whose house I can not see because our yards were mapped by a drunk mathematician with a love of rhombussy parallelograms, has cranked up the radio. (Yes, radio. Not satellite, not iPod, not Pandora.) He has cranked up the good old fashioned radio. How do I know it is a radio? Because the DJ just shouted the call letters KSHE-95! And now what started as the end of an Allman Brother's tune has ramped up to 'Rough Boys' and The Who. And while I prefer the soundtrack of my life to be a tiny bit mellower on a Sunday morning, I can appreciate the sentiment.

We, my neighbor and I , both grew up in the 1970's when Memorial Day Weekend meant the swimming pools were open, school was over and for three glorious months we had absolutely no responsibilities. (Except for those two weeks when it was corn de-tasselling season; an activity unique to Cornfield USA. This is a time when teenagers are loaded into a truck, dropped at the entrance to a cornfield and slowly, meticulously walk the rows, pulling off the silky corn tassels to aid in hybridization leading to bigger yields. This was back when genetic engineering was spoken of in hushed tones in the back rooms of men's clubs.)

I never got to be part of the de-tasselling crowd. My Dad, knowing me all too well, informed me that the last thing I wanted to do was walk around in hot scratchy cornfields with a bunch of cute high school guys who would probably, eventually need to remove their shirts.

But, I digress.

While many things have changed, Memorial Day will forever mark the beginning of summer. (Yes, astrophysicists, I am aware that the true beginning of summer is June 21, when the stars align and Aquarius buys the world a coke.) To me, it seems that so many traditions are falling by the wayside. We no longer go on day long pilgrimages to decorate graves.

Gone are the seasonal availability of fruits and vegetables – thanks to those amazing people in Chile and New Zealand we can eat apples and strawberries all year round.Although I have to take issue with the so called 'January tomatoes'.

Television programs are now on-demand, TIVOed, and available for binge-watching. There was a time, back when we had to turn the channel by hand, that nearly everything in the summer was a re-run and we counted down the days until September and Saturday Cartoon Preview Friday happened!  I hate to admit it, but there are several new shows, which I am looking forward to, starting this SUMMER!
Simply unheard of in the days of manual genetic modification and wearing white only after the end of May.

I no longer have kids in school, or anxiously looking forward to that 'last day' and later the 'first day'. I no longer belong to a swimming pool. I now have to plan vacations around four adult work schedules. My husband grills year round and due to my inability to keep food off my person, I rarely wear white.

So I am here to say THANK YOU to my neighbor with the hearing impairment. Without you and your awesome sound system I would have nothing but a date on the calendar to mark the unofficial beginning of summer. 

 

This is my Summer home! Please note Robert Palm Tree to the left, who managed to survive winter in the basement and Carmen Miranda on the right who enjoyed a warm winter off my kitchen. Also - that leaning StoneHenge in the background, in my other neighbor's yard? Use to be the frame for a swing but is now a condo for tiny birds. I wonder if I should call FEMA when it finally falls over...

Now, before anyone gets all "Memorial Day is about more than YOU having a three day weekend" - I have written much more serious posts about remembrance. Please check out these links for the story of my family's Memorial Day celebrations and service. 

Memorial Day 2013

Memorial Day 2014

(and if you are super bored, check out a previous post regarding my neighborhood and music: 

Summer Sounds. But at least be sitting outside when you do so, unless you are under severe storm watch, then enjoy from the confines of your bathtub.)
 

Happy Memorial Day everyone!

And please, I am on call this holiday so for Pete's Sake:

WEAR YOUR SEAT BELTS!

DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE!

CONSUME FOOD IN MODERATE AMOUNTS AND ALWAYS COOKED TO AN APPROPRIATE INTERNAL TEMPERATURE!

*And thank you Mad Men, for allowing Don Draper to reintroduce that awesome Coca-Cola advertisement.

A Grant Proposal

BREAKING NEWS! We have joined forces with the Eastern SeaBoard FiberglassVessel    Propulsion Committee. See the report here:

 http://www.frogma.blogspot.com/2015/06/in-staten-island-they-have-rainbows-in.html

 
Grant Proposal:

The Ehlers 'Buffet' Hypothesis

with

Nuxoll Co-efficient

Comprehensive, real-time analysis seeking a direct correlation between morbid lethargy proportional to repetitive tasks and its resolution when treated with random, pleasure directed activities. A quantitative analysis of qualitative increase in subject's psychological disposition as affected by solar-heated atmospheric conditions combined with saline hydrotherapy will be measured using the following criteria:

Dietary restrictions including by not limited to crustacean consumption- Raw vs cooked.

Glucose variances in the form of distilled, oak-aged and cold processed liquids.

Semi-fowlers and full supine position as related to UV ray exposure.

Audio stimulation utilizing live vs prerecorded instrumentation of the 6-string and steel drum varieties as well as its subsequent kinetic musculo-skeletal reactions.

An increase in overall sparkling in subject's ocular region, as well as an increase in melanin resulting in unique skin patterns is expected after the conduction of the granular terrain between subject's meta-tarsals.

Travel will be provided by adjustable roofed automobile, manually propelled two-wheeled vehicles and floating wooden structure with large fabric attachments.

Pending approval, temporary research facilities will be as follows: 

Citations:  

Brent Burns and his story of my life: 

My friend and fellow land-locked beach bum, Angie

Jimmy Buffet

The Guy who parked a sailboat in my garage

Jimmy Cliff

The Maker of all crustaceans

Rum