For the past 32 years, I’ve had the delightful experience of having two men in my life, both of whom I adore.  The first is my husband, of course, and the second is the son we had a few years into our marriage.

               When we were first married, I made the comment that I would “love to have three boys just like my husband.”  Then we got the one boy, who is eerily just like my husband, and I realized that one might just be enough.

               They agree on so many things and are alike in so many ways that often I am able to predict what one will think when the other one shares an opinion.  They both love animals and nature, and have excellent senses of humor. They both go (or went, in my husband’s case) to work faithfully, even when they’d rather stay home.  They both love sitting outside next to a grill or smoker, enjoying the moment. Significantly, they both love Ohio State football (and basketball, volleyball, checkers…you get the idea).

Both guys have pretty strong opinions about things, and both of them will say they don’t.  They believe they are the most agreeable people on the planet. In fact, for the most part, they are. The things they don’t like – littering, for example – are things about which they can be vocal and formidable.

               Interestingly, one of the things they disagreed about came to light before our son turned 4 years old.  When we were first married, my husband and I shared the one bathroom in our house.  That meant he pretty much used the variety of soaps and shampoos that I purchased.  Because I had read somewhere that you shouldn’t use the same shampoo every day, I always had a variety of bottles in the shower. 

               One day, my husband emerged from the bathroom with a frown, saying, “I hate all our shampoos.”  I was puzzled.  I pointed the first one (Prell) and looked inquiringly at him.  “I hate that one,” he said.

               Then he picked up the second bottle (Breck), and said, “I abhor this.” My eyebrows raised.  Without prompting, he pointed the third bottle (Vidal Sassoon) and continued, “I detest this one.”

Finally, he picked up the last bottle (Finesse) and ended, “and this one stinks.”

               I was stunned.  I happily allowed him to purchase the next shampoo and I never heard another complaint from him.  Meanwhile, I kept my assortment to use for myself.

               Fast forward several years to our son in the bathtub at age 3 or so.  As I was washing his hair (with Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo, of course), he pointed to my bottle of Pantene and announced, “Pantene Pro-V.  That’s the best kind.”

               Then, without pause, he looked at the other bottle in the shower area and said, “Oh, Vidal Sassoon.  That’s very good, also.”

               Too much TV, I thought!

               But I also realized that it was going to be fun watching these two disagree from time to time. I’m still waiting for that, by the way.

There’s a gentleman in the Guinness Book of World Records for memorizing 232 unrelated objects in 12 minutes.  He also holds the record for the number of objects in one minute – over 130! It’s pretty impressive to me, since I have trouble remembering the one thing I said I was out of when standing at the open refrigerator in the three seconds it takes me to cross the room and pick up the grocery list.

                A study completed in the late 2000’s found that the majority of American adults could list all 7 ingredients of a Big Mac (I think it has to do with that catchy song that came out in the 70’s – “two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, onions, pickles, on a sesame seed bun”).  The same study said that that same majority could list all 6 Brady Bunch childrens’ names – and these were not included in the theme song.  Sadly, that majority could only name about 4 of the 10 Commandments. 
               Possibly that’s because some of those in the study weren’t Christians.  It’s also very likely that more would remember the 10 commandments if there was a catchy tune about them. (Let me digress to say that I’m working on one right now, to the tune of “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”)

               Memory is a tricky thing, though.  I find I can remember every character from the original Andy Griffith Show, but can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday.  I can recall advertising slogans from my childhood (“see the U-S-A in your Chevrolet”), but can’t come up with what I walked into the room to tell my husband.  And I can easily rattle off my childhood telephone number (which had letters in it, because I’m older than dirt), but don’t know how to delete a contact in my current phone – even though I’ve been shown this several times.

               Short term recall is more difficult than long-term for adults.  This is a fact, supported by research.  Another fact is that childhood memories start to fade while we’re in childhood.  That’s why  many of us don’t  remember the first day of school.  Things that we say out loud tend to stay with us, though, which may be why I can remember school lunches.  How many times must I have looked at the tray, sighed, and said, “Tator tots, again?”

               Most fascinating to me is the Mandela effect – it’s the whole concept of “false memories.”  These are things that we believe we remember, even though, in actual fact, they never happened.  It’s called the Mandela effect because of the high number of people who “remember” that Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980’s.  So many people recall this as a memory – and therefore a truth – that we named the concept after him.  In fact, Nelson Mandela died in 2013 – years after he had served as a President of South Africa!

               There are many common “memories” that are false.  Here’s a test for you:  What did the wicked stepmother say to the mirror in Snow White?  The majority of people will answer “mirror, mirror on the wall.”  We remember her saying that.  But she didn’t – she said “Magic mirror on the wall.”

               I have plenty of false memories.  Like, I clearly remember being skinny.  Of course, I was never skinny.  That’s a more comparative thing. 

               In any event, the latest research out of Britain says you’re more likely to remember things if you say them out loud.  That helps, I think, if you say “I’m locking the door” when you leave the house.  The same study says memory improves if you’re a bit chilly. 

So I’m headed outside this morning to say out loud, “What did I want to put on the grocery list?”

               I’ll let you know if it works.

               I have, I know, complained before about carrots and described in detail how much I detest them.  All other vegetables (save the lowly celery stalk) are good friends of mine.  I will happily dine on asparagus, Brussel sprouts, spinach, okra, eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, and pretty much any other vegetable you can name.  My love of vegetables started as a child.  On one notable birthday (we were permitted to ask for any dinner menu on that one day a year), I asked for creamed spinach, lima beans with bacon, grilled asparagus, and baked potato. 

               That’s one of the reasons my parents’ insistence that I eat cooked carrots once a week astonishes me to this day.  I would have happily eaten parsnips, turnips, or peas, but every Wednesday night we had the orange crud battle.  I typically lost.  And while cooked carrots made me gag (and still do), cold, congealed cooked carrots are another level of pain and agony.  That’s typically when I forced myself to down them, after a couple of hours squirming on the dining room chair and pushing them around the plate.

               My loathing of carrots continues to this day.  Strangely, I was never forced to eat celery, even though my mom stuffed stalks with cream cheese and/or peanut butter several nights a week for my dad as an appetizer.  Apparently, eating veggies as an appetizer was optional in my house.  It was a blessing, because celery never appealed much to me.  It’s stringy and has very little taste (unless you pour a half a teaspoon of salt on each bite).

               This is one reason why I get aggravated at soup makers. I expect it in vegetable soup, but try buying a can of chicken noodle soup that hasn’t been tainted with a few carrots.  Some brands even include celery.  But chicken and dumplings – which sounds amazing – has both critters in it.  So does split pea with bacon, and let me just say that there are far more bits of carrot in that one than bits of bacon.  They should just call it what it is – carrots in pureed pea with a bacon bit waved over it.

               I get annoyed primarily because when you pluck out all the nasty pieces of carrot and celery, you have about half of a can left.  A secondary reason I get annoyed is that if you leave them in, the whole soup tastes awful.

               Now some folks have told me that “carrots and celery absorb the flavors of the other ingredients.”  This is a bald-faced lie.  Carrots and celery absorb nothing but moisture and become large, mushy bits of bitterness.

               Some other folks have told me they use these items to create “that crunchy texture.” First of all, they won’t be crunchy if you cook them.  If you don’t cook them, they will taste awful.  Secondly, soup, by definition, is not supposed to be crunchy.  If you want to add crunch, do what normal people do and use oyster crackers or saltines.  But for heaven’s sake, leave the carrots where God put them – underground!

               Can you tell I made some canned soup this weekend? 

I’ve been on many vacations in my life – some fabulous ones, in fact.  When I go on vacation, I always have a grand time.  Spending days with my hubby is a joy for me, so that’s a plus.  Typically we see people we love and enjoy new experiences, so again, more positives.        

               That said, I’m not a fan, in general, of traveling.  While I’m mostly a homebody, our trips have always involved memorable times – some good, some bad, and some hilarious. Recently, we returned from a week-long sprint across four states to share time with good friends and to visit special places.

               This trip is why I haven’t posted in a while, but it also provides a lot of fodder for this blog.  Highlights – and lowlights – of our trip made for some amazing memories.  For example:

               On the first day, we stopped at a reputable hotel chain after 8 hours in the car.  We were both exhausted and my arthritis was not pleased with my marathon of sitting.  The first clue we had that the hotel might be a “lemon,” was the clerk asking us if we wanted the second or fourth floor.  When we asked for the second floor, she handed us keys to room 414.

               Room 414 was sparse.  And by “sparse” I mean that there was no bolt lock for the door.  One had been there, but had been snapped off.  There were also no drapes on the window.  We called down to tell the clerk, but the phone had no dial tone.

               We finally got a room on the second floor with drapes and a lock and day 1 was considered a success. I won’t describe the elevator, though.  That’s a story for another day!

                The second day found us in the car for another four hours, finally reaching our destination at an Atlantic beach.  The beach is beautiful this time of year, and the ocean astounding.  We were a bit distracted from the view by news that my husband’s sister was in the hospital and that the water line to our cistern had a leak.  But hey, what a vacation without a little stress from home?

               The third day was just about perfect. We walked on the beach, shopped for groceries, played games, ate and drank, and enjoyed good friends.  We had lunch at a wonderful little bistro that gave me my only “twinge” of the day.  It was the sign on the porch outside that said, “don’t feed the alligator.” And that wasn’t a joke!

               Day #4 was our annual Friendsgiving celebration which was, as always, both delightful and delicious.  A moment of hilarity ensued in the hot tub, when the jets gave us an unexpected shower!

               The fifth day found us back in the car, trekking 8 hours toward home.  It was another pain-filled day, with some breaks for fun and food.  In a small southern town, I approached a couple at the gas station for advice on where to get a meal. They directed us to a local spot that turned out to have amazing food, great service, and huge portions. 

               On the sixth day, we drove through southern Ohio to get to Cincinnati.  Of all the scenery we had enjoyed, this was by far the most amazing -gorgeous Midwestern hills and foliage.  It made the driving totally worthwhile.  In Cincinnati, we enjoyed more good times with friends, dining, drinking, and watching Hocus Pocus 2.

               Day 7 should have been a day of rest, but not for vacationers!  We ate some more, went shopping, watched football, and wandered around Blink in Cincinnati for a while.  While doing so, I was introduced to Buzz Bull  – a place that will mix the liquor of your choice into the ice cream of your choice and blend it.  The Angel’s Envy Butter Pecan was a highlight of my week!

               We were supposed to stay one more night, but in realizing that we were only 90 minutes from home and very homesick, we left, saying goodbye to the trip of many memories and hello to our own bed.

               Vacations.  I’m always glad I went and even happier when we get home.