Is it over yet?

According to the Pew Research organization, 50% of Americans have a negative view of the last decade. Well, DUH! Of course we're ready for it to end, especially those of us here in B'town. This blog's too small to recap all the weird things from the last 10 years so I'll just mention some that come immediately to mind. First and foremost were the fighter planes intercepting an Amish farmer's plane over Bloomington the week of 9/11/01. My poor parents, remembering Pearl Harbor, thought we were under attack. For some reason, the pilot just didn't get the message that the airports were closed to everyone--even Amish farmers from southern Indiana.

Then who would have imagined that Miles Brand would have the balls to fire Bobby Knight or hire those athletic directors McNaulty and Greenspan? Could hizzoner, the President, have dug any further down in the barrel of green slime? Then not to be outdone, his successor supported the hiring of Kelvin Sampson who must have been lurking at its very bottom. Thank goodness for Fred Glass.

This also seemed to be the decade of "traffic calming." That's the Liberalville synonym for building hazardous obstacles in the middle of the street. It's a wonder that complete neighborhoods have not been destroyed due to a fire truck's inability to maneuver the roadway or round the round- abouts...especially on 7th Street. This must have been the reason so many Bloomingtonians converted to "Smart" cars. They were the only ones intelligent enough to traverse our dangerous but "calm" streets.

Another marker of the decade was the invasion of the "Coasties," a form of locust. They arrive en masse each August and leave every May in 4-year cycles. The females are easily identified by their UGGs, black leggings, huge sun glasses, Longchamp tote bags and North Face jackets...The male species are seen in pajama bottoms, flip flops, stubbly beards and bed heads. Both sexes swarm through downtown in Beamers, Escalades, Porshes and the like all bearing license plates from New York and New Jersey.

Oh, I could go on and on and rant and rant. But in the interest of starting the next decade on a high, up-beat note, I'll just say au revoir and adieu to the aughts. Good riddance. Bring on the teens.

Where' Are the Christmas Cards

Remember those? Before the days of social media and email, cards were a regular part of Christmas. Back in the day when I was a politician's wife, we'd make our pilgrimage to Keystone at the Crossing to buy more than a 100 cards with our type-set signature line and stamped return address. I could address more than 25 an hour--stopping only to change pens and wet my mouth after all the licking and sealing.

But not only were their McDaniel cards to send there were political candidate cards to to as well. We, no, I mean my husband was in charge of stuffing, hand addressing and stamping cards to a candidate's 10,000+ friends and family. That process started way before Halloween. Fortunately, I complained and wined enough that I was only forced to engage in the candidate card brigade earlier in the marriage. But that was then.

This is now. According to USA Today, Christmas mail has dropped 11 percent this year. Postage is 44 cents a card (last I looked) so maybe that's the reason I've only received three cards and it's already December 18. Or maybe it's because my friends' children are grown and there's no need to send family pictures. Maybe folks have just lost interest and think YouTube, Flickr and Facebook surfice. Or, sadly, some have died.

Frankly, I miss the cards...even the ones stuffed with the three-page, single-spaced Christmas "note" archiving a family 's every move the past 365 days. A Hallmark card with a family picture and a Christmas note was always a highlight of my holiday. I couldn't wait to get home and find mail that came sans postage paid envelope for a payment or donation. I loved catching up with everyone's comings and goings

Now the only way I get to do that is to settle down with the stack my parents still receive, probably because their friends aren't on Facebook, don't tweet or email and still believe, as I do, that cards are an integral part of the Christmas tradition. So I'll stop lamenting and start addressing. Merry Christmas and a healthy and happy new decade to everyone.

Bloomington's Local Weekend

It's the Bloomingtonians last weekend before our small summer community explodes into a metropolis filled with people going the wrong way on our streets, crowding the bike lanes and making the wait time at our "watering holes" unbearable. So over the last two weeks, I've dined at most of my favorites. Let's start with Finch's Brasserie on Kirkwood. Lunch on the patio with a view of the Sample Gates at the entrance to campus is perfect. The food is always wonderful--particularly the pizzattas. Just to be different, I tried the smoked brisket on ciabatta bread. It was certainy smokey and flavorful. The homemade pommes frites were also super. Finch's needs to go on every person's short list of Bloomington favorites.

Then there's the new "Scenic View" on Hwy 446 on the way to Lake Monroe. The restaurant's gone through a number of reincarnations over the years but this one has to be the best. As the name implys, there's a spectacular view of Lake Monroe from either the patio or the indoor seating which should only get better as the trees begin to turn. Go for the burgers (either beef or lamb) or the baked-on-site pizza. I've also heard good reviews on the barbeque sandwich as well.
There are also some other changes on the restaurant scene since the students left. One is the new menu and chef at Chapmans. Evidently, a former chef from Truffles has returned to town and hopes to breath new life and business into this far east side, recently remodeled eatery. Loads of dough had to have been spent on the refurbishing of the interior. Evidently, now the owners are doing same with the menu.

Lastly, Nicks Old English Hut, a Bloomington landmark since the late 1920s has expanded its seating for families on the mezzanine. The tall tables have been replaced with regular tables and MORE OF them to accommodate the grandparents, parents, teenagers, children, toddlers and even babies. (I'm leaving it at that and not going any further for fear I'll go too far.)

So, now that locals' weekend is nearly over and the 30,000+ folks are on their way. Bloomington is ready...as we are this time every year. Target is stocked to the ceiling. The mattress salesmen are back on the street corners and we've eaten at our faves, I say, Bring 'em on. Go Hoosiers.

New Digs for IU's Rock

As the lazy, crazy days of summer morph into "back to school", IU students and football fans hav a real surprise when they return to Bloomington. Finally, IU has a "Big 10" class football stadium. The newly built north end joins the east and west stands so for the first time, the stadium is nearly enclosed.

Maybe the rehabed stadium will magically draw the fans into the stadium away from the acre after acre of tailgate parties that start at dawn, hours before the gates open and the first notes of the Marching Hundred can be heard. If nothing more, the new stadium certainly offers two huge benefits over the grass fields--brand new flushing toilets and running water. Hopefully the stadium will be a respected point of pride with the fans of the Hurrying Hoosiers and they'll want to come on in--not just party on the outside. Go Hoosiers!

JFK and Cell Phones

Forgive me for showing my age, but the more I learn about the power of cell and smart phones, video sharing, Web 2.0, Twitter, Facebook and the like, I've been pondering a "what if," that might have changed the last 48 years of history. Thinking about the speed that news travels the globe and ever-growing army of citizen journalists, think what the assasination of President John Kennedy might have been if all the social media we have today was available then.

For me, that day in November has been forever etched in my brain. After all, Mrs. Grace, my 7th grade English teacher charged me to go to the principal's office to see what was being said on the only television in my school and report back to my classmates. As a result, I remember every detail.

Sadly for many of us, we had to wait to see Walter Cronkite or Chet Huntly and David Brinkley spell out the details of that awful day. I shall never forget seeing Mr. Cronkite remove his black rimmed glasses and sadly report that our president had died while trying to ignore the monsterous lump in his throut. News that day and the ones that followed chronicled the funeral of our president as fast as possible given the state of broadcasting technology. After all, most people only had black and white televisions with only four channels.

But what if the spectators along the President's Dallas parade route had the tools we have today? Every second would have be captured--from every angle and every perspective--even from the "grassy knoll." Conspiracy theorists would have thousands and thousands of video and images to review to arrive at a definitive answer if "he acted alone." Images of the tragedy would have been flashed around the world on Twitter within seconds much like the first image of the USAirways flight landing in the Hudson River. The course of history might have completely changed. So if you've got any ideas of how social media might have altered the historical recording of that day add a comment below.

Oliver Daffi

Today dawned as a gorgeous, warm spring Saturday in Bloomington--the perfect day to visit Oliver Winery. While Oliver's has a broad and tasteful selection of wines for tasting, that's not the reason Mom and I went. It was the flower display! Thousands of daffodils, hyacinths and early tulips were on grand display. The daffis, in all sizes and colors of white, cream, gold and peach were showing off like bonnets in a Easter parade.

I love gardening to see perennial beds in pristine shape without a a single dandelion to spoil to spoil the view makes me turn spring green with envy. Even with my foot still in its protective walking boot, I hobbled my way through gardens admiring the evenly spread mulch, the crystal clear water features and kaleidescope of colors and textures. I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to Oliver Winery and look forward to returning in the sunny days ahead. Maybe next time I'll even have a taste of the grape.

Frozen peas are my new best friends.

I confess, I grew up moving the peas around my plate so it appeared like they had disappeared--likely by magic. And there were times I fed them under the table to Kinky, my cocker spaniel. Even my father's coaxing with "Eat your peas, they'll make you smell good," had absolutely no affect on my dislike for those little round green things that wouldn't sit nicely on the fork as it moved toward my mouth. There was the Thanksgiving dinner that my Grandpa made me sit through desert until I ate those little stinkers. It was me versus the pea. Oh ick.

But now at the age of 56, frozen peas have found their way back to my heart --or should I say foot--in the form of ice packs. I have two large bags of generic peas in the freezer at the ready --anytime I need a cold pack for an injury--like right this very minute. Tuesday I broke my ankle while taking my daily exercise on the new sidewalk at the corner of Third Street and Daniels Way in front of Ivy Tech. (I've always heard exercise will kill you, but that's a discussion for another day.)

I couldn't wait to get back from the doc to grab those bags of instant pain killer. No muss. No fuss. No drippy bags and towels or having to make numerous hops to the freezer. My pea friends conform nicely to my foot and last for what seems like hours. Best of all, they numb the ouchy.

While one bag's on the foot, the other's in the freezer waiting for its turn. The swap can go on for days, weeks or months and and those little things can reinvent themselves for new injured body parts. These actual bags of peas were originally purchased in 2006 for my friend's nose job and then his oral surgery. Noses. Gums. Ankles. Are these multi tasking peas, or what? No freezer or first aid kit's complete without them.