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I’m sitting here petting my peeves today. The thunderstorm last night was pretty impressive. It woke me up about quarter to four in the morning. After finally falling asleep around 12:30, it was not enough to fuel my day. So I’ve been chugging along like a car with bad gas. This gives me plenty of time to think about what burns my buns.

Shopping center design heads the list every time. I want to know who dreamt up the bright idea to put a roadway between the parking lot and the store? Obviously not a mom with two small kids or an elderly person with a walker or a wheelchair user. Sure, the traffic is supposed to stop for pedestrians in the walkways, but the key word is “supposed”. The mood is that we want you to shop here but don’t park near us so that others can see our wonderful façade from the highway. Very welcoming indeed. I prefer to shop in a store that I can park near or at least have a half a chance of survival getting to and from my car.

While we are in the wonderful world of retail, let’s talk sale items that are out of stock in the first 30 seconds of the sale. Really?! I mean just confess to not getting the merchandise in and give me a rain check. You knew your flier in the paper was going to have this item. Be prepared.

And then there is customer service. While I have to admit some stores and service companies are falling over themselves making deliveries and loading pre-shopped groceries into my car, why is the post office completely faultless when it comes to a lost package? Why do I have part time internet when the provider sees no problem? Why is my wait time on hold 30 minutes?

I do have to admit the grocery services are right up my alley. Years of being dragged to the grocery store with my parents on Saturday morning has left me with a lifelong hatred of food shopping. Now any one of several companies will do that for you. Some will deliver, some will race them out to your car and load them in for you. I am in love! Now if they only put them away in the cabinets for you…

I don’t eat fast food much anymore but the condiment issue is over the top. I mean the stuff is fairly pricey for what you get (and I’m still not convinced my burger is cooked when I order it). It more than covers the cost of a few catsup packets or and spare barbecue sauce. OK, I get that you can’t give out a dozen hot mustards to a four piece nugget order, but two teeny cups for a ten piece meal especially if you have fries to dip?! Or a taco salad needs more than one packet of hot sauce. Just give me one extra if I ask and get over it.

The last issue that I will leave you with today before I get a juice box and a nap is instructions that were not well translated into English. Granted that manufacturing now takes place all over the globe, but hire someone who can translate into English correctly. There are tons of bilingual persons out there who have a great grasp of both languages. Please seek them out and use them. Pay attention to your printed directions. There is no reason why the directions for my light up holiday dog has the heading “Polar Bear Family”. Now I have to figure out if I have a polar bear or a basset hound.

Well there you have it. The biggies on the peeve-o-meter. Thanks for listening but it is nap time now for me and my polar bear.

Ok, it was new and I was prepared to be treated to the “new” restaurant stumbling experience. That was not to be. The Salty Mermaid in North Wildwood, NJ turned out to be an absolute delight. The oceanic colored, mermaid filled interior was light and airy. The small dining area was carefully laid out so that there were as many tables as possible but your dining neighbors were not intrusive. I am told that there will be outdoor dining by July 4th.
Hubby and I were greeted at the door and promptly shown to a table. Our waitress, Bridget, was quick to find us and and introduce herself with a million watt smile. I ordered a special drink called an “On The Beach” from the drink menu. My hubby ordered his go to beverage, Guinness.
Studying the menu, we found a good assortment of appetizers, salads and sandwiches. There were even selections to please the family vegan if you have one. Entrees are available after 5pm. Hubby chose the crab cake handheld. It came with fries or salad. He picked salad much to my surprise. I went for my favorite, salmon. They serve it with roasted cauliflower and red quinoa. Never having quinoa before I kind of wished I could pick my sides but I can be adventurous.
Settling back with our drinks (mine was a deliciously refreshing experience), we scoped the place out a bit more. Large screen TVs broadcast sporting events without sound. They were present but not obtrusive. The other diners were families, groups of friends, and all ages. Dress is casual but nice. Not necessarily your wet bathing suit bar. Looking at other tables the popular appetizer was the pretzel. The gigantic pretzel was presented hanging from a hook with 3 dipping sauces. It really looked like a fun thing to share.
Dinner came out quickly and Bridget placed our well presented dinners before us. My salmon was done without being over cooked. The cauliflower was combined in with the quinoa and served as a bed for the salmon. One bite of the delicious glazed fished and I was hooked! Now for the moment of truth…the quinoa. Yeah, it was delicious as well. The crowning glory was the grilled lemon. It only takes a minute of grilling to get a lemon to sweeten and release its juices…a small touch but one that will always win accolades from me. The hubby was pleased to find a large crab patty with tons of meat. It was served on a roll with lettuce, tomato and red onion. The salad was fresh and served in its own bowl with dressing on the side.
I was a skeptic with regard to this place. I admit this. But they won me over with attentive (not intrusive) service, good (brightly colored) drinks and great food. The prices are a bit high, but the food is worth it…honestly. The only disappointment was that they didn’t have t-shirts for sale with their clever logo. I would have bought one on the spot!
This establishment is a must for anyone looking a good food and a comfortable place to eat. A+++ to the Salty Mermaid, 2507 Delaware Ave, North Wildwood, NJ

 

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I like a lot of things. I like to cook for instance. Cooking lets me try different flavors and expand my horizons in a culinary way. Of course, there are those recipes that I look at and read the list of 400 exotic ingredients with 45 steps to completion. Not gonna happen…ever. I have always confessed that if you are what you eat, I’m cheap, fast and easy. I love a simple list of ingredients, easy cooking method (preferably crockpot), and five star results. Not too much to ask, is it?

Cooking presents certain challenges to me though. For instance, my husband is picky. And not only the easy kind of picky where he just won’t eat certain things. His picky goes on a rotation so that you never know the forbidden foods until it is too late. When I was working full time, we just went out to dinner or ordered in to accommodate his cyclical appetite. But now retirement has fueled the creative drive to put me behind the pots and pans once more. So our meal pow wows involve a whole lot of “will you eat…?”. But we make it through. It just adds to the game of designing decent meals with some nutritional content.

Another problem is coming up with ideas. I used to go to a convention called “The Cook and The Book”. It was held at a convention center that is about 30 minutes from home. You could pay your dues and walk through a maze of booths with people offering samples of their wares. Be it food, wine, candy or culinary expertise, you could find it here. So many people were so inventive. I wonder where they are now. But anyway, you could eat your way from one end to another easily taking care of lunch and dinner in little white soufflé cups of happiness. Only one trip left me sad and bitter. I got to sit in on a cooking demonstration by a rather famous chef who had her own tv show on a non network channel. It was about how to make risotto. I love risotto. It is a pain to make. This show was supposed to show me how to make it easily and so it wasn’t so scary. I was in the front row. The show progressed with the chef discussing how to make this dish from choosing the rice to technique. Claiming that it was so simple to pull this creamy, rice-y delight together in no time. While she was narrating, a team of two chefs were cooking and stirring their hearts out at the improvised kitchen behind her. It looked like they were working their butts off to make this dish. Stirring constantly and adding liquid at just the right time, the chefs created the “easy” recipe from her cookbook. Yeah, it is easy if I have two chefs making it for me! I was so disillusioned, we didn’t even get to see let alone try the finished product! At the end of the show, a herd of people popped up and began cleaning up the several pieces of cookware that the chefs had used. So now all I need is a team of chefs and bus people/dishwashers and I can create a delicious rice dish. For the record, I did NOT buy her cook book. I couldn’t afford the salaries for the team of food professionals to help make the “easy” recipes.

Another problem that clouds my cooking moments, is that every time I whip up one of my amazing meals…the weather turns awful. You know how in the cartoons a character would open the grill and clouds would come streaming in, when they close the grill…the clouds vanish. Same concept here. I have people who beg me not to cook before an event so that the weather will be good. Go figure. It may be my spices but I seem to open up this portal that exudes storm clouds when I cook. It’s an issue that I am trying to resolve.

So the chef in me will continue to evolve. Blazing new trails into a world d of foodie delights. Trying new things and accepting (not too difficult) challenges to bring flavor and fun to the table. But tonight we are having leftover pizza and Chinese. It’s all good.

Most folks dread the vacation to visit family. Many think it’s not fun or exotic or…whatever. Not me!

I just got back from a great vacation with my hubby. We went to visit my daughter and son in law as well as my sister in law and her hubby. It was pretty awesome. Proving that vacations are really what you make them.

We took the Auto Train to Florida. It was our first challenge to just get to the station. After spending a few hours caught in traffic on the BWI because…well…basically it was on fire (Yes, a brush fire closed the road. We had to drive a sports car across the grassy median and go the other way, then local roads to come out on the other side.), we made to the station with an hour to spare. The lady that gives directions on our Google Maps knows her stuff!

The train and I have a strained relationship. I can deal with everything but the bathroom. I am genetically unable to cope with the Auto Train bathroom. It all started when we had a room with the private bathroom. The bathrooms make broom closets look spacious, but they serve the purpose well. I was pretty content until it turned on me at 3am. Train rides can be pretty wiggly affairs so they provide grab bars in the head to help you get up while the train in doing 70 down the track and 35 side to side. When I went to grab the bar to get up, I accidentally got the silver handle next to the grab bar and rained cold shower water down upon myself, my jammies and my ego. The towels are conveniently placed out of reach so I had to slog out of the bathroom into the room and dry off. Kinda funny now, but “wet hen” was a pretty accurate description of the moment.

Rethinking the bathroom strategy, we opted for a roomette this time. A small block of space with fold out cots but a shared bathroom with no shower! You think the problem would be solved. However, the sink turned enemy when the forceful gush of cold water hit the bowl shaped sink. With the same effect as turning the faucet full force into a spoon. Instead of washing my hands and face as was the original intent, I ended up wiping down the door, walls, mirror and counter in the bathroom. Future trips to the toilet included a towel to drape over the ticking time bomb of a sink while I washed up under the protective cover.

Arriving early in Florida (Thank you, Amtrak), we embarked on our Floridian adventure. The weather was really humid and warm. A great change from the never ending winter that PA had been suffering from this year. Not a big fan or hot and humid or alligators or bugs the size of your head, I already know that Florida is not the place for me to live. My thoughts were further pushed in that direction when I saw a sign on bridge crossing a lake warning of insect swarms. But my mission was to spend time with my family.

Luckily, I was able to make the most of my time by visiting my sister in law and hubby at their beach house on the Gulf coast. A lovely little cottage with a great proximity to the beautiful waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Sitting in the breeze, at the shoreline was wonderful. That part I could live with for a long while.

After two nights of maritime beauty, we moved on to my daughter’s house. It is located between Tampa and Orlando amid a bevy of lakes. The lakes worry me a bit. Isn’t that where gators hang out and stalk people? Luckily, no gators were seen during my stay. I don’t mind that at all.

Her pets were overjoyed to see us. The daughter and son in law were glad too have us as well. They had gone out of their way to assure us a great stay. I am not the person who likes things like tourist attractions or even Disney (there I said it…I mean it…I’m sorry). Hanging out with my daughter was the best event ever! Girl time, binge watching tv, and lots of talk is what I wanted, needed and got. Their friends were so welcoming and prepared a Puerto Rican feast for us one night. We found some great Barbecue and a good restaurant on the lake with excellent sunset views from a breezy patio.

Reconnecting with family transcends all issues with train bathrooms, humidity and insect swarms. There is nothing like sitting around a table talking about our lives that are and were. Sharing stories and hopes, dreams and laughter with the people who color our lives in so many brilliant ways. We’ve laid aside our issues and focused on the precious time we have together. THAT is what a family focused vacation is about.

Heading back to the Auto Train for our journey home, I wondered if I could live in Florida. It’s a huge change from PA and the richness of our history, location and seasons. I wondered “what if…”, then I saw the insect swarm sign and…nope! I’m going home.

I went to a Designer Bag Bingo.  I came out alive!  For those of you who have not yet been a part of the adventure to win classy pocketbooks, let me enlighten you.

First of all, a designer bag is a purse with someone else’s name on it. Everybody wants one.  Some names are better than others. Michael Kors, Coach, Kate Spade, etc are the names ladies crave.

We also love a challenge. Hence the bingo part. Bingo is the classic game of seniors but in this women of all ages gather bringing snacks and wine.  Snacks and wine make this game even better. Wine just kind of makes anything better.

Instead of cash and gift cards, the winners get a name brand purse. At least thats the premise.  I have never won a designer bag.  Nor have I won them in the raffles or as door prizes.  My only fancy bags have come directly from the outlet, on sale with a coupon.

But back to the event. Women gather by the hundreds to win a designer bag. Extra cards can be bought to increase your chances, and a dabber is the tool of choice. Specials require further investment, but the prizes are the super coveted names of the super coveted purses.

As the night flows on and the estrogen ramps up, the crowd gets more rowdy with audible groans as those waiting for one number, wait a little longer. The winner sometime actually gets the word “BINGO” out. Most times you hear a loud squeal or indecipherable yell. It means someone else won the purse that you would give your right arm for.

Just to give you an idea of the desire, there are raffles to win…more purse!  And there is a 50/50 so you can win a lucrative cash prizes and buy your own designer purse!

But most of all, a designer bag bingo is a night out with friends and family members. Something to bond over or to reacquaint. It is a time to have fun and enjoy the rush of maybe coming home with a prize or money or a smile.

I’m planning a trip as we speak.  It is a trip South to see my youngest offspring, who has decided that living among alligators and in the path of hurricanes is preferable to Pennsylvania weather. Ok, Philadelphia humidity and our annual real snow storm aside, it isn’t too bad here. I mean look at California. If its not fires or mudslides, its earthquakes that are a billion times worse than ours.  Our wimpy 4 point something’s wouldn’t even make the news in LA.  But I digress.

Now most normal humans would hop on a south bound plane for an hour and a half and arrive in Orlando all ready for the day…not.  To catch a plane anymore involves more planning than the Normandy Invasion.  You have to get to the airport earlier enough to check in and, if you can’t pack more than one pair of underwear and a travel sized toothbrush, put your luggage into the luggage roulette game.  You pay extra to see if you get your luggage at them end of trip. Great game!  Anyway, next comes security.  Your stuff gets xrayed. You get xrayed.  Oops! Forgot those tweezers in your purse? “Over here, please.” I think if you can hijack a plane with a pair of tweezers, you have mad skills and they should hire you on the spot!  Then you climb on to any plane headed for Central Florida and you will have your very own 50 inch high by 19 inch wide space in a plane carrying 300 adults and 4 billion children.  At the other end, the good part of the luggage game starts. There is a 50-50 chance that you may never see your clothes again. But as a consolation prize, your locks fail on your bag and everyone gets to share the joy of seeing reunited with your clothing…one piece at a time. Then there is car rental, etc. Day one…shot recovering.

You could drive. Seventeen hours of grueling highway, roadside diners and arrive exhausted.  Even if you stop half way, it still is time consuming and nerve wracking.

Me…I take the train.  It still takes 17 hours but someone else is doing the driving. Meals are included in the room. And since we take the auto train, no car rental needed. I can read, play games on my phone, drink wine if I want. All of these activities are frowned on when driving. I can even doze off and catch some shut eye. (Really frowned on if your driving).  Not that there are not some interesting moments on the voyage. But I’ll get into them later.

 

Recent weather event brought a particularly evil nor’easter to the area last week.  I wasn’t too worried. There was no place I had to be, had food in the house and was reasonably warm and comfortable.

The storm began in a fairly wimpy style. Some rain, a bit of wind and this let many people wonder about the ferocious weather forecasted.  But that was all a ploy. Once people had gotten to their workplaces, lulled by the temperate start of the storm, all hell broke loose and snow fell at an amazing rate. The heavy, wet snow clung to branches and wires. It was very pretty actually until the wires and branches started coming down!

Folks were now stuck at work. Many socially conscious places closed early, but the ride was still treacherous. It turned a 15 minute trip into a 45 minute nail biter. The snow kept coming.

By 3:45pm, the lights flickered their last flicker, and hubby and I sat in stunned darkness. Stupid ideas kicked in. You know the ones where you know the power is out but you still hit the light switch when you go into a room?  The thought that if you can’t watch tv, I’ll just read (but without a light source the book is just a blur to these old eyes ).  The candles in the jars and hurricane lamps look sort of pretty as the mesmerize you for a bit.

Sandwiches became dinner as the planned meal died slowly in the crockpot. The whole time, I am optimistic that the lights will pop on at any second.

Reality sets in. I need to keep warm and my fridge needs to keep cold. A couple of hours into the darkness, the hubby sets about to fire up the generator ( grumbling and using interesting words as the generator makes its maiden voyage) As it kicks on, we are once again illuminated. The refrigerator is humming happily. And the fan for the hot air is pushing warmth around like a bully on the playground.

I guess I’m not so much of a old time-y type of person.  I like the amenities that that modern life provides. At some point, I got over camping and now “roughing it” involves a hotel with less than three stars.

For five hours, our neighborhood sat in the quiet of storm. You could hear the trees crack, some brave soul’s shovel scooping the snow from the walkway and the rest was…well…quiet. Suddenly, the lights came on. Some poor lineman had successfully come to the rescue of 2,000 some people. Generator off and life returns to normal. For us. Some folks dealt with the cold and dark for days as the electric company scrambled to restore their grid.

Angels came out of hiding. Senior Centers opened to provide warm havens with recharging stations to anyone who needed to come. Neighbors helped neighbors shovel the first layers of the storm from driveways, sidewalks and in some cases rooftops. Stuck cars were pushed by strangers lending a hand.

Sometimes, it takes the darkness to see the angels.

 

I confess.  I am addicted to the literary genre of cozy mysteries.  Seriously addicted.  For those of you who haven’t found themselves in the cozy world, these mysteries are as Wikipedia states: “Cozy mysteries, also referred to as “cozies”, are a subgenre of crime fiction in which sex and violence are downplayed or treated humorously, and the crime and detection take place in a small, socially intimate community.”  I love them. I can not lie.

They are quick and easy reads. Sometimes if I find an author I like, I will buy the series and binge on them.  Like the crash after a sugar high, when the series ends, I feel like I have lost good friends.

Now cozies are not the only books that I partake in.  My library and archive in Nook boosts biographies, tell-alls, thrillers, how tos and even some history and science tomes. But in between every ounce of heavy reading, you will find a cozy.

My favorite gifts are to the Dog and Bull (of course), Charming Charlie (to feed my bling thing) and Barnes & Noble to keep my Nook library filled with readables for me to grab and lose myself in.

I used to buy paperbacks back in the day.  The piles of literary cadavers grew and grew, as did the stacks waiting to be read.  I would get uncomfortable when the stacks began to shrink. Luckily, e-books came to be and I adapted immediately. I no longer have to search for someone to take the piles of novels. They are all just “out there” somewhere.

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I love a place that has good food, good drinks and friendly people.  Our area was blessed with that sort of place.  It is on Route 13 and it’s name is The Dog and Bull.

I go there often not only for the delicious meals, generous drinks and epic burgers, but for the friendship.  It is my Cheers.  It is eclectic, tiny and so near the railroad that you know when every train passes. Cozy fireplaces in the winter warm the dining areas both indoors and out.

Parking is tight but if you plan ahead you can find something. I like to go when they are least busy.   It is a better experience.

The place used to be a bit scary and sort of your small town dive bar.  The new owners came in and cleaned it up added tables and food, a patio in the back, and tables out front where you can enjoy dinner with your dog. The head chef is a warm and wonderful guy with a knack for cooking food right. When I win the lottery, Max will be the chef on my yacht…I am warning you.  Lou, the cook, charms me by not over cooking the seafood.  I love that in a man.

The managers work hard to be sure things are going right and never fail to say hi when I come in. They talk to most people and are very welcoming when they see you haven’t been there before.

It is how it is supposed to be,

I am listening to some 70s music tonight.  It brings back so many memories of some great times that were so taken granted back in the day.  The dances, parties and the hanging out that we did.  Enjoying some adult beverages, conversations and relationships that would be put on a back burner as our lives changed.

There were clubs that we went to the no longer exist where all the current dance trends (like the very classic and classy “Bump”) were performed to music styles that would endure for decades.  Even the drinks outdated themselves, I wonder what would happen if I ordered a Harvey Wallbanger from a 20 something bartender today?

We scattered far and wide as circumstances threw us in different situations.  And now all that’s  left is the nostalgia. Now and then, I run into a friend from long ago and we catch up in double time, swearing to keep in touch without ever exchanging contact information.  But the memories remain.  Awesome touchpoints in the fabric of live.

As long as I as breathing, I hope to keep the memories forming.  I love having a wonderful scrap book in my mind. I will never grow older. I will just have more pages!