Geography is not a gift I have.  It’s not even strength.  In fact, I am so bad at geography that I would probably qualify for some kind of assistance.  Thankfully, I have a husband who is quite talented at all things geographical.  It comes in handy when someone wants to know where a particular mountain range or river is located.

               My husband discovered this surprising lack of knowledge in my brain early on in our relationship. He asked me to draw a map of the 48 contiguous states.  I managed to get most of them on the map. I was left with a rather large area, unnamed, and I titled it “Louisiana.”  It rivaled Alaska in size, and was bigger than Texas (although I knew it wasn’t correct, I was unable to make it any better).

               Hence, when we play word games  – which we do a lot – he has a lot of trouble getting me to give clues that make sense, or guessing any locale with any accuracy based on good clues.  The good news is that he has gotten quite skilled at figuring out what I am actually trying to describe.

               For example, I was giving him clues to a country and said, “It’s an island nation.”  He began to enumerate many islands, and none were what I was seeing on the little card.  So I said, “Pacific shoreline.”  He replied “coast!”  When I nodded, excitedly, he looked puzzled for a moment and said, questioningly, “Costa Rica?”
               “Yes!” I replied.  “We got it.” 

               “That’s not an island,” he said, without rancor.  “It’s a country in Central America.”

               Huh.

               A couple of days later, I gave him another clue.  “Des Moines, state.”

               He responded (I’m sure correctly), “Iowa.”

               Oh, nuts.  “Potato,” I said, quickly.

               That got the idea to him immediately – Idaho!  He figured out that I wanted a state that started with I, but clearly not Iowa.

               See?  He’s already adapting to my lack of information.

               It’s just as bad when he’s trying to get me to guess somewhere.  The other day he said, “Alabama.”

               I immediately leapt to a football analogy and said, “Michigan.”

               That amused him, but he kept trying.  “Louisiana,” was his next clue.

               My guess was, “South?”

               He then said, “River!”

               Ah, finally!  I know this.  “Ohio!” I replied confidently.       

               His face was a study in bewilderment.  “No, big river,” he repeated.

               I never did guess “Mississippi.”  When he told me what it was, I said, “Why didn’t you say Mark Twain?”

               “Because that’s Missouri,” he told me.  Seriously?  Missouri?  First of all, that’s not a river.  And secondly Mark Twain always wrote about the Mississippi River.  Didn’t he?

               Well, anyway, I’m not a mapmaker so it doesn’t really matter that I don’t know where anything is. 

               But I am grateful that he’s adapting to my brain rather than expecting me to learn which lakes go with which countries.  I mean, if Kentucky owns the Ohio River, and Canada owns Lake Michigan, then how can I be blamed for not understanding geography?

      

               It all started with a simple conversation about candy dishes.  When my mother-in-law passed away, we (her three children and I) divided up her considerable stash of jewelry, knick-knacks, dishes, purses and papers.  It took months, and in the end, among many other treasures, we inherited about 6 candy dishes.  (Why anyone needed 18 candy dishes is a question only my mother-in-law can answer…though I suspect she inherited many herself).      

               At any rate, we had this one candy dish that concerned me.  It has rested peacefully in our kitchen cabinet for nearly 15 years, unused and unusable because it has no sides.  How in the heck do you keep candy in it?  Or is it for a lone bar or two? 
               It looks like this:

So it’s basically flat, with a slight curve

               My friend suggested I look it up on Google search and guess what?  It’s not a candy dish, at all!  It’s (wait for it) a BANANA BOAT!  You’re supposed to keep your bananas in/on it!

               That made such sense, though in truth I never saw Mom put bananas on it.  It’s possible that she didn’t know it wasn’t a candy dish, either.  This exciting development made me look up other oddities that have been sequestered in our cabinets for years. 

               For example, I never did know what in the world to do with this tiny dish:

As you can see in the picture, it’s about 2 inches long and 1 inch wide.  Too little for candy, jewelry, or, I thought, flowers.  But it turns out, yes, it’s a tiny little vase to put one or two blooms in for a decorative table setting.

               Well, it’s pretty, I’ll say that.  But I’m not cutting flowers from my garden to put in the vase. Not when I’ve got nice, big vases to use.  At least I know what the intended purpose is!

               The next treasure in our cabinet was a little divided stand.  I thought it must be for tacos, seriously, but I don’t think that taco holders are typically handpainted.  So I looked it up, as well. 

It’s a letter holder, or so I’m told.  I tried putting letters in it, and they didn’t really stand up.  So maybe it’s a cigar holder! Your guess is as good as mine.  Here’s the pic:

       The final treasure was a divided plate. I’ve seen those “luncheon” plates before, in fact I’ve had a set that belonged to my own mom.  But this one is interesting because it’s all by itself and it has no distinct place for a glass or mug.  It’s strange:

It seems like the glass or cup would slide to the front.  And it’s really pretty small.  Not sure when this was manufactured, but I guess it’s lunch for one!

               Perhaps a banana from my banana boat.  While I look at two tiny flowers in a tiny vase and sort my letters.  We’ll see.

Over the past several years, I have become fascinated by an HBO/MAX television show entitled “The Gilded Age.” Part of the fascination is that two of my favorite actors (Christine Baranski and Cynthia Nixon) are main characters. The other is the opulent setting – fashion, architecture, furnishings, and manners of the 1890’s are depicted in eloquent detail. It’s so amazing that I’ve taken to researching the period to see just how accurate the writers and set designers are – and they are amazing.
Contrastingly, I have become discouraged by the erosion of common courtesy and customer service in my own time period. Clerks that don’t say “thank you,” tellers who don’t make eye contact, and the never-ending series of automated responses one gets just to report something to a company. Usually this involves a company I spend lots of money with (television, internet, electric, for example) and I spend hours – literally hours – on the phone just trying to get a real person on the line.
I dove into this topic on the internet and I found the following helpful “tips” as to proper etiquette for the 21st century. Note that these are “tips” and “suggestions.” These include:
1. At the workplace, respect others’ time, be punctual and communicate professionally.
2. For social gatherings, bring a small gift when invited to someone’s home, be mindful of noise levels, and offer assistance with cleanup.
3. In online interactions, avoid offensive language, respect privacy and be mindful that your digital footprint is important (whatever that is).
4. In everyday interactions, use “please” and “thank you,” hold open door for others and be mindful of personal space.
The 1890’s were incredibly different. Not only were rules of etiquette followed, they were viewed as stringently as laws. To deviate from the standards could mean expulsion from society – at least in terms of invitations and attending events. These rules covered a lot of ground, including:
1. Introductions and Courting: Formal introductions were crucial, with etiquette guides outlining proper procedures. (No online meetings or “hook ups” then!) Courting rituals were elaborate and included carefully planned interactions as well as chaperones.
2. Social Gatherings: Invitations to social events were sent out well in advance. Guests were expected to arrive and depart at specific times and both men and women were expected to follow specific rules of dress and behavior (can you imagine?).
a. Conversations were expected to be polite and restrained, with a focus on maintaining social harmony.
b. Seating arrangement were crucial, with the goal of promoting social mixing.
3. Everyday Etiquette: Walking in public required adherence to specific rules, such as keeping to the right and avoiding jostling.
a. Smoking was generally discouraged in the presence of ladies and men were expected to be mindful of their cigar etiquette.
b. It was considered rude to stare at others, use a toothpick in public, or engage in loud or boisterous behavior.
c. Women were to be impeccably groomed, avoid fighting, and maintain a level of modesty (oh, my!).
d. There were also specific rules for visiting , including how to sit, how to greet the host, and how to behave in the presence of an invalid.
4. Breaches of Etiquette: Breaches of etiquette included such things as staring, fidgeting, or failing to acknowledge someone. Failing to acknowledge a greeting, or stepping on someone’s foot, were also considered faux pas.
The actual list was quite lengthy and quite specific. In fact, there are books about this topic – from 1890. These days, we can’t even get a paragraph about how to behave nicely. Maybe they were too strict, but maybe, just maybe they were on the right track! What do you think? Please? Thank you!

My golden years have brought some interesting changes in my life. Many of these changes, I’ve discovered, have occurred in my freezer.
Let me explain.
For decades, I froze selected vegetables from my garden, soup, stews, and other delights and carefully noted the contents and date on each item. This is a fairly accepted practice, and exceedingly useful.
Of late, however, I have discovered the joy and adventure in items that have been frozen at some unspecified time, and without a label. Is it soup? Salsa? Perhaps just sauce? This has led to some interesting dinner menus, let me just say. One of the most memorable was the time I made an entire pot of chili, only to discover that what had looked like tomato sauce was strawberry jam.
Then I decided to make a lasagna casserole for friends who were having a rough time. I selected a large container that I was confident contained spaghetti sauce. I allowed it to sit on the counter to thaw while I cooked noodles, browned meat, and chopped onion. Soon, I was ready to make my layers and bake the casserole.
I popped the lid off the freezer container and found it was completely thawed. It was also NOT spaghetti sauce. It was some kind of beef stew.
Hmm…that really didn’t seem like the right thing to layer the noodles and ground beef with. But, I prevailed. I found some sauce in a jar and my lucky friends received both lasagna and beef stew. Or whatever that dish was. I really wasn’t sure, though, it may have been jambalaya or some sort of soup. Hopefully, whatever it was, it was edible. If not, I’m sure I’ll hear about it. (Though perhaps not. You know how friends are…they often don’t tell you home truths like “that beef dish was horrible” or “that haircut is awful.” But that’s why they are friends!)
I also discovered enough popsicle sticks to last about fifteen years. They were out of the handy bag in which they are packaged and loose around every shelf and drawer of all three of my freezers. There seemed to be enough that I realized I must have, at some point, purchased a second bag of 40 popsicles and opened it, as well. I think in all, there were 63 popsicles. They have now all been relegated to one drawer, and if luck holds out, they will stay there until all have been consumed.
But popsicles are like Tupperware lids. They turn up in strange places, don’t they? And often without anyone really moving them.
If all that wasn’t strange enough, the behavior has escalated. I decided to clean out my little freezer and plan meals to empty it out. I found a large bag which had once been opened and now sported a clip on it, protecting the contents. I had helpfully taped the cooking instructions onto the bag. It said, “Heat in 375 degree oven for 20 minutes, turning once.” Excellent.
What I had not taped to the bag (nor could I recall) was the actual name of the product. The bag contained a number of little golden nuggets. Bigger than tater tots, but not as big as breaded cauliflower. Were they cheese bites? Sausage crumbles? Jalapeno poppers?
No idea. But we’re going to find out tomorrow night, as they are the side dish to whatever meat was in that closed Tupperware.