Scout Moves

While I was visiting No. 1 in Berkeley, we decided we didn't want to eat out every night and would enjoy a few evenings relaxing at home. We bought yarn (or in No. 1's case, fiber) at different yarn shops, and we wanted to be able to kick off our shoes, watch a movie and knit, and having dinner at home provided that opportunity. Cooking is one of the things I do—I like it, and I like planning, shopping and executing, and I especially like having an appreciative eater to enjoy the results. So, having dinner at home did not inflict damage on my second spring break. No. 1 is a vegetarian, so I had to choose recipes we would both like with that limitation. I suppose plenty of people would not consider a vegetarian diet a limitation, but if you're used to cooking with beef filets or salmon or chicken, having to exclude those things really is limiting, at first. One evening, I poked around the produce drawer of the fridge and found a sweet potato, and that gave me an idea. I did

Berkeley is hardly my second home, but I am so comfortable here and in No. 1's apartment that it's beginning to feel like it. We usually stay in a hotel when we visit, so we feel like visitors, but because I'm staying at "home" and cooking in the kitchen and playing with the resident cat, I don't feel so much like a visitor. Today, No. 1 and I knitted for a while, using yarn we bought at a great yarn shop yesterday, and then we walked to Shattuck, a street full of cafes and restaurants and shops. We had lunch at Cafe Gratitude, which is so completely Berkeley. If you're sitting in the Midwest and imagining what Berkeley might be like, it's this place. Cafe Gratitude serves organic vegan food, some raw and some cooked, and the place is decorated with inspirational signs and symbols. On the wall near our table, there was a huge poster of a girl looking at her reflection in a stream, and the caption read, "Can you surrender to how beautiful you are?&

In case you were wondering, I am in Berkeley, California having my second spring break of the season with No. 1. When I was a kid in school, or even when I was a college student, spring break was never something to look forward to. We never traveled except to see Alabama family in the summer, and when I had spring break, I had chores. That's not to say I was harnessed like an ox or was never allowed to rest, but I did have to do things like wash windows or clean the closets or some such mundane tasks that meant vacation was no vacation. But now as an adult, I seem to get several spring breaks, and I don't have to do chores during them. I go places with Eustacia, and I do things with No. 1, and Husband and I pick up and take off on lots of occasions. On this occasion, I am in Berkeley, and No. 1 and I have decided to do home-body type things. I arrived yesterday afternoon, and we bought groceries and made vegetable lasagna at home. We had dinner while watching American Idol and

You may have noticed a link in my sidebar for Father Dan's blog. Father Dan is my brother-in-law, Husband's eldest brother. He is an Episcopal priest and a very good writer—very good communicator on all fronts—as you can tell from his blog. Over the weekend, Father Dan was named the bishop of Springfield, Illinois in a consecration ceremony, and Husband and I took a quick road trip to watch it happen. My church experiences have been limited. I once attended a pentecostal church in a Chicago housing project and was very much out of my element with the screaming and the falling down and the nurses up front ready with smelling salts, and I once went to a service at a commune in Chicago—Jesus People USA, or JPUSA—where I sang hymns with big men with long hair and tattoos and women who wore jeans. But most of my church experiences have been in your run-of-the-mill, middle-America protestant churches where there is no room for ceremony, and pastors dress like the rest of the congrega

The other day when I told you all about our trip to Disney World, I neglected to mention our side trip to Universal Studios. Our purpose for going there was to see the new Wizarding World of Harry Potter , but you can't very well spend $85 to see one small section of an amusement park, so we bought tickets to see all of Universal—Islands of Adventure and the Studios park. I'm not a roller coaster rider, so we didn't want to spend all day at Islands. We went there first just to see Harry Potter, which is one section of the place, like Jurassic Park and Dr. Seuss land are sections. Harry Potter World is off in the corner, and either we took a wrong turn, or you literally have to walk through the weird world of Dr. Seuss to get there. It's basically Diagon Alley with a roller coaster, a small Hippogriff ride and Hogwarts at the end. Along the alley, there are some shops you can go into, like the wand shop and the candy shop. The candy shop is connected to the toy shop, and

We're on stage three of the renovation—or is stage seven. I've lost count. And the floor installers have begun today by hammering and sawing and generally making so much noise in the room above me that I'm sure they are pounding directly on my skull. This very bad cold I have is in stage three as well, or whatever, and has moved into my head so that my ears are stopped up, and everything sounds like I'm hearing it through a tunnel. So, a giant hammer is pounding its way through a giant tunnel and landing on my head. I have arranged to board poor Tiger beginning Friday because we'll be out of town for several days, and he can't be here once they start all the sanding and staining and finishing, but given the trauma of today, which will continue straight through until the end of tomorrow, I'm thinking about crating the little guy and dropping him off as soon as possible. Since I can't be boarded, I guess I'll go camp out at a coffee shop for a couple o

Happy Pi Day and happy birthday to Albert Einstein. My column in Small Town Newspaper addresses these occasions, but the article isn't posted online, so please go read it at Open Salon . I'd be honored.

Yep, Eustacia and I had another successful vacation at Disney World, not unlike the one we had two years ago. I describe a trip as successful when it's mostly enjoyable—you're glad you've planned the trip you've planned, you're excited for each new day, and even though you're happy to arrive back home when it's over, you have great memories and wouldn't mind another evening at the Magic Kingdom. Like we did the last time, we spent five nights at the Wilderness Lodge and bought the basic dining plan. Our package, which we bought through AAA, also included a four-day park hopper pass so we could go to different Disney parks as we pleased. We didn't get passes for five days because we spent one day at Universal parks and knew we wouldn't feel like going to a Disney park later that evening. Good choice because we were exhausted when we got back to the hotel that evening. Walking and standing on cement for hours and hours and hours wracks your bones.

I'm going to Disney World, as I've mentioned, where the sky is blue, and the birds are singing and all the "cast members" say "have a magical day" instead of "Thank you. Come again." While I'm immersed in this sugar-coated world—and loving every minute of it, so shut up all you sour-souled cynics—the state of Ohio will be executing the criminal of the month. The state will be executing one death-row inmate every month between now and November, with two more scheduled to die early in 2012, and this month's winner is Johnnie Baston who will die Thursday, March 10. In 1994 when Baston was 21, he shot and killed a store owner in his home town of Toledo. He was arrested a few days later and confessed and was sentenced to death. Baston did a despicable thing, but in sentencing hearings, judges will often consider other circumstances. Baston had no criminal history and was supported by his youth group leaders. Also, the victim's family is oppo

No, we aren't getting a motor home. Let me repeat with all the umph I can muster—we are not getting a motor home. But, I discovered a new website called On-Airstreaming , Music's Shiny New Pet. A Facebook friend posted a song from the site, and I have been exploring the maze of the place ever since. Independent artists record their songs—seemingly in an Airstream—and post their videos on line. There is an on-line "radio," artist interviews, lots of videos and news updates. On top of it all, the graphics are cool. I notice those things. So far, my favorite artist is young Matt Hires. He's just a nice looking kid who writes and sings and plays—he doesn't spend a few days in an egg or dress like a condom for a Good Morning America interview or announce his new hair cut to his awaiting fans. In fact, GMA might not even bother with him, and I doubt his fans care how he wears his hair. The man even tries his songs out on his wife before he introduces them to the pub

For Husband's 50th birthday, I gave him four ballroom dance lessons. By that, I mean I signed us up for four lessons at the Fred Astaire Dance Studio. Neither one of us knows a thing about dancing, and he has suggested several times that he'd like to learn. We go to wedding receptions and sit quietly at the table, fiddling with our plastic wine glasses and watching other people out on the dance floor. We go on cruises and see other people cutting it up in the lounge after dinner, while we slump down into an overstuffed couch and order another gin and tonic. We'd love to dance, but it has never been part of our experience, and our inhibitions are paralyzing. I was raised by strict Baptists who took me to an even stricter church where dancing was strongly preached against, along with just about anything else most people think is fun. That kind of beginning stunted me, I think, and made feeling free on a dance floor akin to sky diving. Yikes. But, here we are taking lessons, j