Scout Moves

I watched Boston Legal last night—a great show, by the way. There was a momentary play on words when one of the characters used "surely" and "Shirley" interchangeably to get a laugh. He got one from me because I did that a lot when I was a kid. Here's how: When I was growing up, I traveled with the gang-like neighborhood kids in a pack from morning to night, but none of us really stepped out from behind our mothers to get to know each other until the age of six or so. Before that, all I can remember is being in the house with Mama or being babysat by the neighbor women. My mother got a job as a bookkeeper at a hardware store when I was in kindergarten, so I spent afternoons with people like Mrs. Hodsen, Mrs. Jeffrey, and Mrs. Mackey. I called them all Mrs. Whatever because in those days children did not address adults by their first names. But I knew their names. I knew they were also known as Rita and Louise and Jan and Shirley. It was during these same years t

Because I sometimes write about food, Country Bob's has asked me to review their All Purpose Sauce. They were kind enough to send two bottles to me with a few recipes. So here goes. Country Bob Edson started perfecting his sauce in the 60s and then began selling it in 1977. His corporation is based in Centralia, Illinois. I'm not sure if the sauce is available nation wide, but the brochure says its "distribution has magnified regionally in all directions." I started with Country Bob's Pickin' Food, which is a variation of Check Mix, the savory variety. I don't usually like that stuff because it can be excessively salty, so I was interested in this variation. It called for an assortment of Chex cereal, small pretzels, and chopped nuts. To that you add melted butter, 1/4 cup of Country Bob's All Purpose Sauce, and 2 teaspoons Country's Bob's Seasoned Salt. I didn't have the salt or any sort of seasoned salt, so I substituted a different spic

So many of you have posted tributes to Paul Newman, and I would just be repeating what you've said if I wrote my own. So here is a repeat of a movie review I wrote nearly two years ago. Cool Hand Luke (1967) is the story of Luke Jackson (Paul Newman), a man with no apparent direction in life and no apparent ambition. He's just settling an old score. After a stint in the US Army in which he was promoted and honored with various medals but then demoted so that he left with the same stripe he went in with, he got drunk, broke the heads off of parking meters, and was sent to a work prison in Florida. This prison is run by Captain, an overseer of sorts played by Strother Martin. More people than I can count have tried imitating Martin in delivering one of the greatest lines in American film history--" What we have here is a failure to communicate "--but they all fail. No one can deliver that line with the same thin Southern drawl--a hint of evil and a hint of feigned be

It begins tomorrow. I have written a piece for Small Town Paper. You can read it here.

Finally, after three weeks of talking about buckeyes and asking about buckeyes and looking for buckeyes, I have found them. And now I can move on to another subject. the tree I was getting my hair cut at a salon, and one of the stylists said she found a buckeye tree in the front yard of the local Salvation Army building. She makes wreaths out of them like some people use pine cones, and she had gathered a few just the other day. the nut So, yesterday morning I went to the Salvation Army, found the tree, and scoured the ground beneath. This is the time of year for these things to fall, so I was hit by several during the foraging. Buckeyes are encased in this spiky thing, which I suppose prevents animals from digging into them. the box I filled a bag with my jackpot load of buckeyes, and I'll ship them to the elderly man in California this morning. The family has offered to pay for the shipping, but I had an idea. Considering where I gathered these things, I'm going to suggest th

I'm still looking for buckeyes , but it has now moved from being a simple task to being a mission. I am determined. The other day, a friend told me about a buckeye tree she was sure was nestled in a cemetery in Small Town Next Door, and she drew a map on the back of a napkin so I would know just where to find it. She even sketched out the shape of the leaf so I wouldn't mistakenly bump into a maple tree. So, I drove to this cemetery on a quiet morning and set out with a plastic bag stuffed in my purse to hold all the nuts I would gather from the ground. I walked the entire length and width of this graveyard and didn't find a single nut. I'm not sure if I even found the right kind of tree, so it's possible the place had been cleaned up, and any nuts on the ground were swept away. With the hurricane winds we had here last week, that's probable. I didn't let the situation go to waste, though. Walking through a cemetery in the quiet of the morning with just the

Most of the graphics work I do is for book cover, but sometimes I do business cards (what you saw yesterday), and sometimes I do T-shirts. Here are few. This was for a local screen printing business that wanted to offer some inspirational shirts related to coffee. Honestly, I don't remember if they went for these. I'm thinking they chose the first one. These next two were for the local high school steel drum band. The orange one was the original a few years ago, and the green one was made using a photo Eustacia took of the top of a steel drum. This last one was done for the daughter of a friend. The girl is a champion stock car racer, and this panther was panted on the side of her car. And just for something different, here is one of my logos on the tail of an airplane.

At least one of you has, anyway. Lynn asked me to show some book covers I have designed. I did that yesterday, so today you can see some of the business cards I have designed for friends and family. Some of these businesses aren't operating anymore, so don't bother calling. We'll start with a local floral designer. This woman is still working but under a different business name and in a different location. This is a card I did for my sister's floral design business. I removed the phone number because I'm not sure she's looking for more business and might be surprised by out-of-state calls. Here are two options I gave my niece the music teacher. She chose the green one because the other one suggested she only teaches small children. She's right, but I still like the design. The green option is printed with black ink on a sage green cotton card stock. And this was for a woman I know who was hoping to launch a jewelry-making business. It never took off, and now

...the 1650s beauty. Honestly, this may not look much like clothing of the time period, but it's the closest I could get. Quite a few paintings from that era show massive sleeves that could shelter a ground hog for the winter, but some were more tailored. We'll go with tailored for our story. The dress is made of satin with lace, and a friend with a vintage goods shop will loan me a big broach to hold the lace collar in place. I'm not sure of the model's size, but if this doesn't fit, it will be too large and not too small. We'll just clamp it in the back and angle her in such a way that it shouldn't matter too much. As Lynn has requested, I'll display a few book covers this week. In the past, the covers I have created for romance books have not included models because the hook was the location, not the main character. Here is a cover for historical stories that all take place in Oklahoma. And here is a cover for contemporary stories that all take place

As I have mentioned, I design book covers. For the next few weeks I'll be focused on putting together covers for a series of romance books. These aren't your typical trash books with sultry images on the cover—bodice rippers, those are called. These are more wholesome and will only have an image of the main character, fully clothed, and a background general enough to let you know where the stories take place. Easy enough except that four of these books are historical, and the costumes have to be reasonably accurate. I wandered through a costume warehouse today with my teammate, the other designer working on this project, and we found a few suitable dresses, although it was tough going. This warehouse rents costumes to theaters, so all of their dresses relate to specific shows—Oklahoma, South Pacific, and Greek tragedies that require togas. We have a lot of fun in this shop and like to imagine wearing the dozens and dozens of hats and wigs with the hundreds of dresses and old un

I spoke to the writers' guild last night, and I believe it was a success. I didn't stutter or stammer or stare at the floor while I spoke. I'll get to what I said in a minute. First, I have to say that Ms. Snodgrass is a delight, and I wouldn't mind being like her when I am 80 years old. I saw a picture of her when she was a little girl, and she looked alarmingly like Scout—both me and Scout Finch—so it's possible I will be like her when I am 80. She was lovely and very gracious. I was a little concerned as I was driving to the meeting place, and I passed a slow driver on the highway. Of course it was my host, but she didn't seem to mind when we met and shook hands. I didn't really know anyone else at this gathering. There were twenty-one people there besides myself, and I just smiled at them all as they walked in. I recognized one man whose name I won't mention because I can see him googling his name, and I wouldn't want him to stumble on this blog

As I have mentioned before, I design book covers as a favor to a non-profit organization that sells books to stores in Africa, mainly Nigeria and Kenya from what I understand. The organization is based in Illinois but maintains a close relationship with the store owners and distributors in Africa, so I get plenty of input as to what kinds of imagery is popular there that might not be popular in the States and vice versa. I learned, for example, that a in good of bit of Africa, wedding rings are not a recognized symbol of marriage. They are seen as a white man's invention, so when I design book covers for books on marriage, I have to use something like hearts instead of rings. And big, hairy, ugly spiders are admired. It's been an educational experience. Several weeks ago, I asked my contact person in Illinois if she knew where I could get antique African trade beads similar to what my husband bought while in Nigeria a few years ago, and she set herself on the task. It turns out

Part A—Sunday, 6:00ish p.m. Parts of Ohio are feeling the remnant winds of Hurricane Ike. While the actual storm went north and dumped record rain in other states, we've got a bit of wind. The national weather service is predicting gusts up to 70 miles per hour. I am sitting on the enclosed porch with the doors open so I can hear it all even though it’s humid and feels like somewhere in the upper 80s outside. That’s hardly the efficient way to keep a house cool, but it certainly is the more interesting way to listen to a wind storm. It sounds a little like the waves of Lake Michigan. I grew up on it and loved sitting on the beach and watching the water crash into the sand. On an average day, the waves were close to two feet high, and on a blustery or stormy day, they could reach six feet and higher. Those were the days you didn’t go to the beach, but you sure wanted to. I remember being a college student in Chicago, and on a particularly stormy night, news reporters were warning ev

I just assumed everyone knew who Andy Hardy was and loved his movies, but it seems not everyone does, and introductions are in order. Andy Hardy was the fictional subject of a series of movies made between 1937 and 1946, plus one extra film in 1958. Andy was played by Mickey Rooney as a trouble-finding teenage boy who first looks to his surroundings for answers and then finally checks in with his father, the always wise and kind-hearted Judge Hardy. Andy's mother is sometimes clueless and sometimes insightful, and his older sister is just sort of present in the films. The main relationship is between Andy and his father, and together they work through the struggles of life—figuring out girls, the importance of personal integrity, growing up, leaving for college, becoming a man. Here is a trailer from one of the films that covers the summer between high school and college: Judy Garland played Patsy, the adorable neighbor girl who was a little younger than Andy but who loved him with

I'm reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and here is why—I have been working on an article about Banned Books Week which will begin at the end of September, and in my research, I was surprised to see Huckleberry Finn on the list of the ten most challenged books in the U.S. in 2007. A challenged book, by the way, is one that someone or some group has tried to have removed from a public or school library for whatever reason. These days, the problem with Huck Finn is racial, but in the beginning when this book was published in 1884, it was the general tone and the behavior of the main characters that ruffled the feathers of the prudish. The committee members of the library in Concord, Massachusetts said these things right before banning it: It was "couched in the language of a rough, ignorant dialect" "All through its pages there is a systematic use of bad grammar and an employment of inelegant expressions." "It deals with a series of experiences tha

A friend sent an email to me yesterday showing the contrast between the daily diary of a dog and one of a cat. The dog is happy with everything and eager to please. The cat, on the other hand...well, you'll see. And here is big fat Mike to demonstrate how the cute meow is not so cute when you know what it really means. Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending co

While I'm on the subject of movies... I was flipping through this month's issue of Bon Appétit last night (my new favorite magazine, by the way) and found an ad for Triscuit crackers/Turner Classic Movies. I don't care about the crackers so much, but Turner Classic Movies makes life lovely. The ad suggested a specific film scheduled to air this month on TCM as the backdrop for a special evening. For example, you can create a bohemian evening by watching Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire and snacking on Triscuits dipped in cheese fondue. I'm not sure how bohemian that set-up situation would actually be, but the ad got it right by suggesting The Parent Trap with a camping theme for a family fun evening complete with s'mores using Triscuits instead of graham crackers. I'd like to suggest you skip the cheesy Haley Mills version and watch the cheesy Lindsey Lohan version instead. When our girls were younger, we had a motorhome we called the Big Ass M

I watch a lot of movies, and I don't apologize for it. I won't qualify my movie watching with a sentence like "I watch a lot of movies but I try to exercise to balance out all the sitting with my feet up." That would certainly not be true. I also won't say something like "I watch a lot of movies but I try to choose things that are intellectually stimulating or morally sound." That's not really true either. I did walk out after the first fifteen minutes of Tropic Thunder but not because it was offensive. I have as much tolerance for Ben Stiller as I have for Will Farrell and the Three Stooges. Very little. And I also won't say "I watch a lot of movies but I read a lot to counteract the slow-down my brain experiences when I sit motionless in front of a flashing screen." I'm ashamed to say I don't read nearly as much as I should. I won't apologize for it, though. I used to do movie reviews here to keep some of my favorites aliv

I had an article printed in this past Monday's newspaper about the importance of volunteering in the community. You can read it here . The online version of the paper is read by people all over the country who like to keep tabs on their home town, and yesterday I got an email from one of those people who now lives in California. Actually, I'm not sure where the man is from, but he has a 92-year-old father-in-law who has moved to California after living here for 87 years, and the man longs for something from home. The elderly man has a hankering for buckeyes, a local nut. People in Ohio call themselves Buckeyes, like people from Indiana are Hoosiers. I'm not sure what a hoosier is, but this is what a buckeye looks like: You can find them on ground around the buckeye trees they fall from. There is also a candy version made with peanut butter coated with chocolate that is pretty popular, but the guy wants the real thing. He lives in an assisted living situation, and he likes t

So, I was sitting there minding my own business when the phone rang, but this time it wasn't the manager of the grocery store. This time it was a woman representing the county writers' guild. I love that we have one, but I have never given a thought to joining. I don't know why. This woman, Ms. Snodgrass, which is the greatest name I have ever heard, has been reading my editorials in Small Town's newspaper and has been impressed. She asked if I would consider being the guest speaker at the guild's September meeting. humina humina humina Let me tell you about me and public speaking. I was a shy child and did not like having to stand up in front of people and speak. That did not change by the time I was a student in high school. I was forced to give speeches in my language classes, and I did whatever I could to escape the torment. I remember in my freshman year when our huge class of about 300 students was divided by possible grade—if you put off your assignments a ce

I have been reading about an occupation, that of personal chef. Personal chefs take on clients and cook meals for them, usually a week's worth at a time. Typically, they cook in the client's home and prepare five meals in several hours and then store the food in the fridge or freezer, leaving instructions for reheating. I thought I'd give it a shot in my own kitchen to see what it feels like to cook for a week in one day. It's a short week because of the holiday, so I chose a menu for four days using recipes from a favorite cookbook. I bought groceries based on the recipes, and spent about $140. I began cooking at 10:30 in the morning, and I finished sometime around 2:30, allowing time to eat a quick sandwich and take a ten-minute break for a glass of water and a small piece of a Scharffen Berger nibby bar. I just had to mention that because they are so irresistible, and Small Town's grocery store has just started selling them. Here is what I cooked: Meal 1: Grilled

We went to an Indians game in Cleveland last night because Eustacia's marching band performed the national anthem. We had decent seats, so while we couldn't see her playing, we did see her marching in. We used to go to games quite often, especially the year when we had season tickets. I think this was our first game of the year and probably the last, so it was nice of the Indians to win for the occasion. We have been at this stadium during horrendous lightning storms (when husband was on metal crutches) and during insect attacks from some kind of bug that swarms around Lake Erie in September and during blazing heat. Last night was just lovely and cool with the perfect sort of breeze. Here is the crowd singing during the seventh-inning stretch. My camera filled up before the song ended, but you know how it goes.

Our orchestra performed our Labor Day concert at the park last night, and I didn't humiliate myself. In fact, I think I played fairly well. I had small solos in three or four numbers and the horn section in general had quite a few prominent parts. I'm not sure I led the others very well, but I at least played my own part correctly, most of the time. I screwed up Mendelssohn's Wedding March pretty well, but I'm sure the audience didn't notice. When I play with this orchestra, my goal is to at least not miss a major entrance or hit the wrong note coming in, and I succeeded this time around. Of course it's important to watch the conductor for tempos, and sometimes he'll ask you to play softer or louder, but I watch him to get his reaction as well. When a soloist plays poorly, he'll scowl a bit or smile sympathetically. But if a soloist plays well, he'll beam and direct with such gusto you can't help but play with even more heart. Well, that's th