A few years ago, Leigh and I were on a trip together. She was working on a crossword puzzle, in ink, as I do. I thought it was just so interesting because she also crossed off each clue as she answered it. That’s what I like to do.
Her dad uses only a mechanical pencil. I’m not sure how her 3 older brothers do crosswords. I would guess by pencil.
I admire people who do crossword puzzles. Once, when I walked into a neighbor’s house on South 55th St., I thought its most decorative and homey feature was the newspaper’s unfinished crossword puzzle on the clean dining room table. A bright yellow-orange pencil was placed on top of it, ready for use.
Sometimes, I copy that style by setting the crossword puzzle on the table, along with a pencil. It can be an inviting look!
Generally, I don’t do word puzzles. Occasionally, I like to finish one started by Dan, or collaborate on a particularly hard one (like in Sunday’s newspapers), with a group while traveling. It is kind of fun to pass it around.
The Omaha World Herald has 2 daily crossword puzzles: one in the Living section, and one in the Sports pages. In our household, there were several fans of these puzzles.
When our children were growing up, during their young teen years especially, I barely got a chance to read the Living/Sports sections because they disappeared so quickly.
Dan enjoyed all of the puzzles in the paper so he also would take it prematurely (before me).
When Brandon, (then later on Leigh) became a paper carrier, it was a thrill to have an extra paper once in awhile.
We’ve recently stopped receiving the print edition, opting for a digital subscription. I reasoned that I could go to our neighborhood grocery, Wohlner’s, while on an early morning walk and pick one up. I do like to spread out a newspaper on the table and read it.
However, reading the online version is fun too, especially when we are away from home. And, it occurred to me, that I could print out the puzzles each day for Dan (and for me to finish).
It’s been said that solving puzzles increases and maintains your brain power. I don’t know about that. What I do know, is that it’s made Dan a consistent Scrabble winner, (much to my annoyance, ha ha). I just think it’s very important to do what you enjoy every day!
I found one sheet of this fabulous drawing paper (Rives?, Arches?) in my supplies from my days at the University of Nebraska Omaha, studying art. The Berol prismacolor pencils and drawing board were there also.
This drawing, “Clara in the Boat” was started in August 2018, while I was staying solo at the lakehouse. The composition of putting Clara in the lower part of the page was inspired by a portrait I saw at Joslyn Art Museum, where the figure was placed like this.
I like this stage of color in the water. The circles are an attempt to show the sun sparkles. My plan is to draw a simple outline of the boat, in black, and add detail to Clara.
Water too dark, I think! I left this drawing at the lake, to sit until the next summer, hoping I could lighten it up. Maybe if I did that, the dark spots would show the depth of the water.
Finished! That darkness in the water bothered me all winter (in my mind, because it was away from Omaha). I just didn’t like it, and I didn’t know how I was going to fix it.
After erasing a small section with a good art/pencil eraser, I used a tissue to rub off some color. It worked perfectly, taking off the pastel chalk that I had used on top of the colored pencil.
Then, I outlined the boat some more, and added color to the towel, which was an especially fun process!
Yesterday afternoon, if you were to look into my heart and soul as I sat on our balcony overlooking the now closed city park, you would have seen a mellow, sympathetic, confused COVID 19 world inhabitant.
I understand why the mayor closed our parks. Too many people were gathering, sometimes in the hundreds, even at night, which caused mischief and serious crimes, (besides violating the current order to keep groups to 10).
Here is what I observed:
The Frontline Security officer asked people to leave the greenspace, which they did.
He asked 2 kids on scooters to leave the concrete stage area, which they, and their father, did.
He asked a young couple sitting together on the edge of the stage to leave, which they did, moving to a bench along the sidewalk, which I thought was open. No, it was not, apparently, because the officer asked them to leave the bench, which they did.
This is not good, I thought. It’s 70 degrees and sunny. This park which was just mowed and maintained needs to be used!
Next, the guard moved toward a young man in plaid shorts and dark socks, who was sitting in the middle of the stage, casually, yet thoughtfully, soaking up the 5 PM sun.
I felt for him. He didn’t want to move. He’s isolated. All should be OK.
He threw his arms up, a couple of times, in gestures that said, “Really?”
The security guard threw his arms up in the air also, as if to say, “it’s my job to remove all people from the park.”
The kid won for now. He stayed put. What was he contemplating? Is it a world problem, or a personal problem? Or, maybe he was just choosing to sit in the sunshine and enjoy it.
Then, the boy (defiantly, I think) got down and walked right through the green space (which is most definitely off limits) to the west side of the park, along the sidewalk. He walked toward a bench where the guard had just sent 2 people away who were sitting on that bench.
Benches and playgrounds are not open for use because the city can not possibly disinfect them.
I think it’s ridiculous. It’s all gotten so crazy. The kid (of high school, or maybe college age) sat on a bench, looking east.
I watched him for 20 minutes or so, as walkers moved around him (the sidewalk is open). He didn’t move, as if deep in thought, or observation.
I went inside for a minute and when I got back, he was gone. Which way did he go? Oh, there he was, walking on the sidewalk. Then, he got in his little white car, and drove away.
I really hope the parks (and cities) open up soon!
”Embrace your imperfections” is a quote that I’ve had on my bulletin board for years. I like to think of it as a way to be/stay humble, or, as a way to be more human, acknowledging our flaws, be they physical, mental, or emotional.
Today, I’m thinking about teeth and dental work. We go to a team of fabulous dentists and staff, who I’ve been told, treat famous people (must get more detail on that!). Dan and I are both patients there. When they asked him if he’d like to get his teeth bleached, he told them, “No, I don’t plan on smiling that much.”, which made me laugh out loud!
On March 5th, I went in for the replacement of my front tooth. I’ve had that porcelain crown for 20 years or so, and the gum had receded enough to make them worry about food getting trapped under it. Besides, the materials in use now are far superior, more natural looking, than what was used back then.
I dreaded this work. 2 hours in the chair, and a temporary to wear for 4 weeks, while the new tooth was being manufactured. They told me that doing one front tooth is the most difficult procedure for dentists. I think it’s because of the matching that must be done.
Well, it wasn’t that bad! I thought I’d be wanting to go home and cry. Instead, I felt so good, I went to Williams Sonoma and bought a LeCruset dutch oven! It was such a mood lifter, thinking about the breads and meals we could use that for.
They sent me home with instructions on how to floss it (only pull the floss through, not down, or the tooth would pop right off), and how to re”glue” it in place if I had to, with vaseline or toothpaste as a bonding agent.
The next appointment was set for April 2nd. I patiently counted the days. Then, Dan heard on the news that dental offices were closing for 2 weeks, along with everything else, because of the corona virus and social distancing guidelines. “You might not get your 2nd appt.” he told me. “Oh, they for sure will do this appointment for me!” I said confidently, thinking of it as almost emergency work.
I was wrong! The office called me twice to re-schedule, going for April 7, then April 14, and then, to tell me they’re closing until June! They won’t even schedule an appointment at this time. I am assured that people can live with a temporary for weeks (now months) at a time.
All is good, not to worry. I can live with this minor setback.
Here is something I wrote on October 21, 2014, about the reason for my front tooth repair:
In the 3rd grade, while fighting with my cousin over a comic book, I slipped on his home’s beautifully polished , super slick hardwood floor, and chipped my front tooth diagonally in half.
We lived in rural Iowa, and had a wonderful dentist in Wall Lake who treated me with a form making (chocolate pie, he told me) substance that I bit into, and it tasted terrible. A few weeks later, I had a new front tooth, and it was silver!
It didn’t bother me to have that silver tooth that I remember. As a matter of fact, my best playmate at the time, Nancy, had to get one also, after chipping her tooth on the school playground. Everyone said that whatever Shirley did, Nancy had to do also. I’m a year older than Nancy.
Soon after, our family moved to Carroll, Iowa, where I was the new kid in the Catholic grade school. The boys teased me a little.
The one incident I remember the most happened in 4th grade. I was seated up front. One of the boys, who I will call Dan (wink, wink) was sitting in the back. He would whisper, “Oh Shirley”. I would turn around and he would pretend to be combing his hair, along with some of his buddies who he had enticed to do the same thing, while looking at “the mirror in my mouth”, as he called it.
Such juveniles! And to think I married this leader of the pack, ha ha.
When I was in 7th or 8th grade, I must have been embarrassed by it, because all of my class pictures have a closed mouth smile.
Some time in high school, it was replaced with a nice white tooth, that held up until I foolishly bit into a Slo-Poke sucker that pulled it right off at the swimming pool. It was the day before an out of town cheerleading camp.
An emergency temporary cap was put on by our dentist, and I was able to carry on and go to the camp, at Simpson College, Indianola, IA, where I had a very good time!
Today, as I look out over the windy city of Omaha, NE, I’m reminded of how I felt in the early days of living in Midtown Crossing, loving the views. We’ve now been here for 9 years.
Here is something I wrote on February 25, 2011, about those beginnings:
Actually, this moving day should be posted as 2 days (24th and 25th) or even many more days. It’s been months in the making. But, yesterday was a red letter day.
I found myself at 2 PM with a car loaded with Leigh’s closet, my art things, some clothes and hangers, and various cupcake business things. Should I wait until the actual moving day (Feb. 25) to bring these things? I still had to stop at Cupcake Island and pick up mail and payroll, AND an ice storm was due at any minute.
I decided to go to the condo/new home after Cupcake, saying to myself I would be home by 3 for a short nap (having gotten up at 4 AM, so excited, can’t sleep). After the nap, I would prepare the house for a 6:30 showing, then do Cupcake books, before everything (desktop computer, printer, modem) got disconnected and boxed up for the move, short as it is to Midtown.
We were also entertaining the FAB 5!, (friends and fellow United Way volunteers), at 6:30 at Crave restaurant.
Anyhow, I found myself pulling into our underground parking garage alone for the first time. It took about 5 elevator trips to empty the car, not a big deal.
I was enjoying every step through the condo/new home as I puttered about organizing what I had brought, imagining Dan’s surprise to find family pics set out, and his shirts hanging in the closet.
But what I really liked was the view toward the park and the city!!! The huge flag cheered me as the clouds got darker and something like snow came down—I wasn’t sure—was it ice?—I seemed so high up, on this 8th floor. That snow looked different from there, I think.
Moving from a home of 13 years that you’ve made your own is a huge transition. And so is enjoying, savoring the first few steps of moving into a completely new space, with completely new views.
As you can see, our parents took really good care of us modern mid-century kids! They made sure we were warm by tormenting us with these turn of the century winter outfits. We do look happy!
A few years later, we moved to town so that Dad could take a job with Farner and Bocken. He became a beloved beer salesman, serving the area’s needs, and giving his family a comfortable life. Here is a card that he sent out that first year in his job, 1961:
Now that we lived in Carroll, the winter wear styling was pushed up a notch. No babushka scarf for Karen! She gets a really cute furry hat. It even looks like she was allowed to go without mittens and boots!
However, it took a few years for Mom and Dad to get that cool. For their oldest child, in 1961, I was forced to wear flannel or wool pants under my uniform, and heavy boots, for the 7 block walk to St. Lawrence School, when we lived at 1114 N. Main St.
“But, Mom!”, I still remember protesting. “I’ll be OK. The other girls wear tights and little shoes”. Whining did no good. I just had to bear it.
Years later, in Omaha, imagine my surprise as I saw the high schoolers wear pajama pants under their uniforms, willingly. They probably begged their mothers to let them do that, Ha!
When our oldest son was 6 and in first grade, I was responsible for his worst fashion day in winter. Mom and I found the most perfect tan trench coat, lined in fur (when I say fur, it always means imitation of course). She worked at Penney’s and received the employee discount, which made this on sale coat such a bargain! I could just see Bryan in it.
The problem was, he refused to wear it. There were tears. The ONE day he did wear it was when his dad was driving the car pool and authoritatively insisted, “Get in the car now, with that coat on and buttoned up!”. Sorry Bryan.
I found no pictures of this coat which was immediately donated away after causing so much unhappiness. It looked something like this:
Unfortunately, Bryan had one more (at least) episode of Mom choosing winter wear for him. This was when he was a senior in high school. It was a dark turquoise puffy (very puffy) ski style jacket and another Penney’s bargain, I’m sure. He rarely wore it, and purposely left it at home when he went to the University of Nebraska in Lincoln.
The feisty winds on campus proved to be too cold between classes, (now that walking was the only way to get around), so that first weekend home, he found the puffy coat to bring back. Fashion was not as important as warmth.
Here’s a great coat for a little girl, and our daughter’s request at Christmas:
I was asked to sew a fur coat for our oldest granddaughter, Clara, by her very fashionable mother, Amy. Here’s how it turned out:
One of the coldest days I’ve ever been out in occurred on the eastern most part of Long Island, NY. We were on a road trip with friends, and wanted to get to Montauk to see the historic landmark lighthouse.
First, we stopped at the Parrish Art Museum (YAY!) near Southhampton to see the Fairfield Porter works. Then, it was off to a deli for pastrami sandwiches to eat at the lighthouse.
As we drove on and on, it seemed, the pastrami sandwiches were getting more and more enticing, until we just couldn’t wait any longer. We pulled off the road and enjoyed our lunch. Now, on to the lighthouse, which turned out to be right around the next bend! We laughed and laughed.
The wind was intense. We were frozen just being in it for a few minutes; we could not have had a picnic here!
Our weather in Omaha turned very cold this last weekend, with minus degree windchills. Before that, it was mid -fifties and sunny. Last week, I breezily walked to a neighborhood coffee shop (Myrtle and Cypress) for a meet up with a friend who founded and runs a nonprofit (Whispering Roots-an aquaponics, STEM program for school kids, and other communities, raising fish and food). He was updating me on their work as we sipped our drinks served in vintage looking, soft green china cups (a juniper berry organic whole milk latte for me, and a cashew/date nondairy one for him).
I chose this coffeeshop for its location, and its innovating small business vibe. They made over a house, so you sit on couches and chairs. Also, I like their Instagram posts. The one that influenced me had the juniper latte photo, and a link to an article, entitled “The Norwegian Secret to Enjoying a Long Winter”, which was inspirational, I thought. In Norway, there are very few depressed people, affected with seasonal disorders. Apparently, it’s all about attitude.
Right now, they’re in the season, a few months long, when Norway’s sun doesn’t get above the horizon. So, they enjoy long views of sunrises and sunsets.
Norwegian residents have a saying, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.” Ha ha! To survive the harsh winters in the midwest, where I live, and around the world, you need good clothing choices.
Even our pets have very caring owners. On Sunday, I quickly photographed (from my balcony) one of my favorite dogs of Midtown Crossing at Turner Park on a walk with its owner.
Our winter is just beginning, so take very good care of yourself, and loved ones!
Traditionally, the most important time for family gatherings in the Neary household is on Christmas Eve, not on Christmas Day. This was begun by Dan’s father, Ray, while Dan was growing up.
In our house, family arrives anytime after noon, and we have a casual lunch buffet, with Dan doing most of the preparation. The menu is this: cheese spread with crackers, meatballs, little smokies in “Tony’s sauce” (secret recipe, ha), deviled eggs, a veggie tray, and shrimp from Absolutely Fresh Seafood. A platter of homemade cookies and fudge is set out also.
Then, we play games, rest a little, and maybe open one gift.
Around 5 or so, we go to a children’s Mass, and come back for a formal dinner. Many grand entrees have been prepared over the years, such as beef tenderloin, lobster, or Duck a l’orange, followed by gift unwrapping. This was somewhat exhausting!
Usually, we had places to go the next day, some that were hours away and out of state (to Iowa), for other family celebrations.
In the past few years, we’ve significantly reduced the elegance and work, by choosing to do only the very wonderful buffet, in mid afternoon. We still light candles, and use nice dishes and linens. Clean up is easier, for sure, and we still celebrate the joy.
Here is something I wrote a few years ago, on Dec. 27, 2015, when we served both meals:
As the dishes, pots and pans, cups and glasses and utensils pile up on the counter, I think for one second that this is crazy! More pans on the stovetop, a full dishwasher going through its cleaning cycle, and dessert is yet to be—are there enough clean forks?
The food is creative and delicious, the company divine, in fun and conversation! And help also!
So, when I go to bed at 11:00 on Christmas Eve with cleanup halfway done, I am not looking forward to the rest of the dish duties.
However, on Christmas morning, I get up so early, and can quietly clean a few items (while others sleep), looking out over the park, and at the Woodmen Tower with its green and red lights.
What I’m remembering is that time when Dan’s sister, Linda, taught me about messy kitchens and cleaning them up. In the mid 1970’s, she came to Omaha to visit, and cooked a Mexican dinner in our tiny Benson apartment kitchen, using every wedding gift and piece of equipment we owned. I was somewhat appalled at the state of our kitchen!
Then, we ate, and enjoyed, and after that, we methodically cleaned up dish by dish, washing, drying, and putting everything away.
And then, our kitchen was ready for many more cooking and cleaning up episodes. I hope everyone is enjoying time around a family table often!
This marvelous storefront photo is just the kind of thing I was thinking about, back on May 22, 2011, when I wrote this:
There is a phenomonon of warmth and comfort that arises whenever I see lit up interiors viewed from the outside.
The effect is even more inviting on a rainy, foggy, or snowy day. During Cupcake Island’s first year, in 2006, I remember the pleasure of driving up to the shop on a dark and dreary day, and seeing the shop’s bustling interior all lit up!
At home, I would often choose to walk around the block at dusk, just to see a glimpse of a stairwell, or a desk lamp lit up within a window.
”Lit From Within” is the title of a painting I viewed (somewhere? by who?). I thought the title was so poetic. I barely remember the painting; was it a scene in a window? No, I think it was a nature scene, a tree or a shrub, very leafy, with touches of light coming through. Beautiful!!
Now, today, on December 18, 2019, I’m adding some favorite scenes to illustrate further the emotive value of light inside, viewed from outside.
This past summer, it was very exciting to witness a neighbor’s backyard wedding on the lake (West Lake Okoboji, Iowa).Here is a picture of the tent:
I also think that looking into a lighted courtyard from a darkened path is lovely.
And here’s a spectacularly famous painting, at The Art Institute of Chicago. I didn’t know it was so large! I must go see it.
However, my very favorite artwork expressing this theme comes from Paulette Peters, an Elkhorn, Nebraska friend. She created this “wall hanging” as she calls it (I call it a studio art quilt) in 1989. I saw it a few years later, when I was active in quilt guilds, and never forgot it, or the idea behind it. So original!
Thanks, Paulette, for sending me the photo a few days ago!
I hope all of you enjoy the Lit Up Interiors in your own lives.
Because I’ve recently enjoyed a slice of pecan pie, with whipped cream, I thought I would post this musing from November 22, 2014.
Dan’s mother, Betty, would always whip the cream on the holidays when we visited, in a medium sized yellowware bowl. It was sturdy and nicely shaped. I loved how the whipped cream looked in there!
I knew where cream came from because I have a vague memory of Grandma Schelle (or Mom?) pouring off a layer of cream on fresh milk. Our neighbors were dairy farmers.
However, for most of my childhood, we used the powdered “Dream Whip” boxed product that you added milk to, and then whipped it up.
After that, it was Cool Whip for many years. Or, the whipped cream in a can that my Grandma Thelen used. I really loved that!
Then, I got married, and noticed my mother-in-law, Betty’s real whipped cream.WOW! How fantastic! I still used Cool Whip a lot, while our 4 kids were growing up. Crazy to think about it now, all of those plastic containers and chemicals in the fake whipped cream!
But somewhere in those years, I started whipping fresh cream. I remember putting some in my coffee in the afternoon, if I was watching kids from our babysitting co-op, and I’d sit on the couch for a bit, and enjoy that.
Also, we had a cylindrical Tupperware container, with a little mixer inside, to whip cream in. One time, I shook it so long that the air pressure built up and the lid flew off! It had become butter, flying all over the dining room, and my new navy cotton sweater I was wearing. It also hit Leigh, about 4 months old, in her baby swing, and Mom at the table. It was a huge mess, and even worse, there was no whipped cream for dessert!
Then, our oldest son, Bryan, became interested in good, delicious food as a young adult, and married husband and father. He makes the very best whipped cream! It has just the right amount of sugar, and a consistency that holds up well. He brings a generous supply of it to our holiday dinners. We have lots left over to enjoy and maybe freeze, remembering Bryan’s gift later.
Now, our grandson, Gus, knows the method. He offered me some that he had made, to take home last Thanksgiving, and this year too. Such a treat, and once in awhile, it’s worth it!
This summer, it all began with a trip to the Maritime Museum in Arnold’s Park, Iowa. I saw this arched structure made from rocks. The sign said it was on loan from Clark Museum in Milford, Iowa. It did not say who made it, or when.
It made me think of my Great Grandpa Goecke who made stone sculptures. The one I specifically remember was a big stone basket in front of Grandma and Grandpa Schelle’s farmhouse. Grandma, Mary Ann (Mamie) Goecke Schelle, was his daughter.
I wondered if he was inspired by the rocky shorelines of Spirit Lake, Iowa’s largest natural lake, where he spent many years, or if it was a popular craft of the time.
Mom (Jean Schelle Thelen) talked often of her Grandpa Goecke’s cottage on Spirit Lake. She gave me a photo from 1981 of her and our 2 older sons, Bryan and Brandon, on a rock bench at that cottage (now with a new owner). She told me that her Grandpa Goecke tied his boat to it.
I LOVE that picture and the idea of an ancestor making the bench. I wanted to see it, but I had no idea where it was located. I guess Mom had never taken me there, that I remember! And now, I couldn’t ask her, because she went on to her heavenly reward in 2014.
So, I asked around. I asked my brother Ed first. He’s a long time resident of Spirit Lake, and Mom and Dad visited him often, renting a cabin each spring and fall (the unbusy times), near him.
No, he had no idea either.
Next, I asked my Kennebeck cousins. They come to The Iowa Great Lakes (Okoboji) every summer for a week of pure fun, and their Mom was my mom’s sister, so she must have talked about it also.
No, they didn’t know where it was!
My Uncle Ron (Mom’s brother) had done a detailed family history for our files. That’s where I found information on William Goecke. He was married and lived in Carroll, Iowa. A few years after his wife died (in 1930), he moved to Spirit Lake (in 1934), and lived there until 1956, when he returned to Carroll. In Spirit Lake, he owned a house in town for the winter, and a lakehouse for the summer.
I went to the courthouse with that information, sleuthing my way to the cottage with the stone bench. The helpful workers led me to the basement, through a dark corridor into a large bright room, and left me there.
It was quite fun! Searching through a massive, tabletop sized index of handwritten deed transfers (today, they’re all digital), sorted by year, and alphabetized, I found one address really fast—the one in town.
The lake cottage was pretty easy too. He bought it in 1941.
Then, I went upstairs to the offices to get the actual address, after finding the division name and year of the sale. I got both addresses, and the current owners’ names. The lake cottage has an Omaha owner, and I knew the name!
After contacting my Omaha friend, I learned that her husband’s brother had purchased the property 3 years ago. They weren’t staying there until the weekend, and encouraged me to go have a looksee, although they couldn’t recall a bench.
I went the next day, very excited and hopeful. My imagination saw it along the shore, and I thought we could maybe take a new family photo there, with grandkids and myself, to hang on the wall, alongside the other.
Well, it had been 38 years since the stone bench photo was taken. I really thought it would be there, but it was not. A sea wall, several feet wide has been built, taking over the original shoreline.
However, I’ll always appreciate hand crafted stone sculptures, and think of my Great Grandpa Goecke, who gave me joy long ago, when I gazed at the basket on my Grandparent Schelle’s farmhouse steps, near Breda, Iowa.
Just for fun, here are a few stone photos from my walks, along West Lake Okoboji.
I hope you enjoyed this little story, and can go sit on a favorite bench somewhere in your world!