Travel thoughts, more than slightly late

 Otter sculpture, Garvan Woodland Gardens

We've been back from our brief visit to the Land of No Snow for two months now. It always feels a little weird to visit a different season and then return to the tundra with its depressing sloppy April mix of mud and slush. May usually isn't a whole lot better -- if I recall correctly, our last spring snow in 2021 fell on May 15. Heading south we perked up when we realized we'd passed the snow line; on the return trip we groaned when remnant snowbanks began to appear around Rhinelander. By the time we got home, our driveway was, of course, still snow covered and the picnic table was still buried. 

It did turn out to be a late spring. Lilacs did not bloom until well after Memorial Day, neither did the creeping phlox.

Anyway, I've always liked Hot Springs, Arkansas -- it was one of my favorite places to visit for work back in my days with the National Park Service -- so would naturally would have liked to stay down there longer. 

One of the things parents always get warned about is trying to live their lives through their kids.Well, the Younger Daughter got a promotion and a transfer and is now duty stationed in Hot Springs. She's working on the Ouachita National Forest and eventually will be in an office in the forest headquarters (supervisor's office) in downtown Hot Springs. At the moment she's still teleworking -- the official move back into actual offices may take place around the end of June, beginning of July. If memory serves me right, she'll be right across the street from the National Park headquarters. Or maybe a block away, but not more than that. Does that count as me living vicariously? Or is it just a lucky coincidence? I'll vote for coincidence. 

Nifty garden train at Garvan Woodland Gardens

 

 

I will take some credit for letting her know Hot Springs isn't a bad place to be -- we did a mother/daughter weekend trip there back in 2011 -- but I think the actual attraction for her (not counting the promotion) was the fact Arkansas is green. It's true the natural landscape can be hostile (briers and poison ivy [unofficial state flower of Arkansas], assorted snakes, wood ticks, chiggers) but it doesn't seem quite as determined to kill you in as painful a way as possible as the Arizona desert does. 

It was a quick trip, slightly over two weeks including the travel days down and back. Because The Kid has to work from home, we opted to stay at a hotel. She did take a week of vacation so we could play tourist (note photos from Garvan Woodland Gardens, a Hot Springs attraction), but we figured she'd be happier without us underfoot. Besides, we had Beelzebub with us and had no idea how he and Cupcake (Tammi's cat) would react to each other. If they never achieved an understanding, it would be a very tense two weeks, and if they became buddies then we'd get to feel guilty about splitting them up right away. So a hotel that was pet friendly seemed like the smart thing to do. 

I do not usually do hotel endorsements, but I've got to say the Hilton Home 2 Suites we patronized in Hot Springs was the type of hotel I would have killed for (figuratively speaking) when I had to travel for work. It had amazing work space (most of the time when I traveled for work I'd end up sitting on the floor with the laptop in order to have the phone cord reach an outlet -- we had to do a hardwire dial-up connection; no using public wifi), a full-size refrigerator (not one of those annoying dorm fridge things), a decent breakfast bar, and was clean and quiet. It also came equipped with basic kitchen supplies -- china, silverware, a couple microwavable casserole dishes, and a toaster. If I had to stay anywhere for more than a few days, I'd cheerfully stay at a Home 2 again. The rates were good, too. In fact, we paid a lot more for rooms that were not nearly as nice on our way to and from Hot Springs, with the most overpriced probably being the place we stayed in Poplar Bluff on the way down. Definitely more of a one-star type room with the added bonus of discovering during the night that the heat didn't work. We did get a partial refund when I mentioned the no heat problem during check out, but that's not going to get that particular Comfort Inn back on our list of places we're willing to stay. 

Not that we're likely to be staying in any motels any time soon. If everything goes as planned, the next time we're in Hot Springs it will be with the Bobber (the travel trailer) so we'll be thinking about campgrounds and not whether or not a hotel is worth whatever it might happen to cost.I really do not want to spend next winter in the U.P.

Local wildlife

Pine marten in an apple tree

I did not know martens were omnivores, but when I first spotted this guy, the wee beastie was digging windfall apples out of the snow under one of the other trees. Photo taken through the office window about 10 a.m. this morning.

A new research project

No, it's not the rhubarb pie. It, or more accurately she, is the person who provided the pie recipe: Ingrid Bartelli, an  MSU Extension Consumer Information Marketing Agent and, if I recall correctly, my mother's Home Ec teacher many, many years ago at L'Anse High School. I became intrigued by Mrs. Bartelli when I began doing some background research for an exhibit the local historical society plans to set up at the Baraga County Historical Museum this coming summer: Finns and Finnish Americans in Baraga County. I had a vague memory that Mrs. Bartelli was born a Mattson, which suggests a Finnish background; I also vaguely remembered that she hosted a cooking show on With-Luck-You-See TV in Marquette. It seemed like she'd be a good candidate to include in the exhibit as a notable successful Finnish-American.

Well, despite the wonders of the Internet, it turns out that quite a bit of Mrs. Bartelli's life is still a blank. I know when she was born (April 12, 1912) and when she died (December 29, 2002) but not much about what happened in between those dates. I've found sources for her obituary, but not a copy of the obit itself -- I'm going to have to do old-fashioned library research for that. Turns out there are quite a few newspapers that have not gotten around to digitizing their older records. I've found references to the program she hosted on WLUC TV6 -- "Cooking with Ingrid" -- but no solid information on the show itself, e.g., when did it begin airing and how long did it run? I've learned she was the author of a guide to edible mushrooms that's still being used. It must have been a really good guide because in 1983 the North American Mycological Association presented her with an award for her extraordinary contributions to amateur mycology.

So what am I missing? At this point, just about everything. Until I actually read the obit, I don't have much to go on for her personal life in either direction -- no info on ancestors, nothing on descendants. What did she look like? Are there any photos available? How did she go from teaching school in L'Anse to working for MSU Extension? How many of her former students are still around (other than my 90-year-old mother) and would any of them be willing to be interviewed about her? Ditto children and grandchildren? And just how much time am I willing to invest in researching one small part of what is planned as a much larger exhibit?

No answers yet, but here's the rhubarb pie recipe taken straight from one of Mrs. Bartelli's newsletters for consumers:

My Favorite Rhubarb Pie

Line pie pan with unbaked pie crust

Fill generously with rhubarb which has been cut into 1/2 inch pieces

For a 9 inch pie, mix together:

1 heaping cup of sugar

3 eggs

dash of salt

For 8 inch pie, mix together:

1 scant cup of sugar

2 eggs

dash of salt

Pour egg and sugar mixture over rhubarb, spreading evenly over top.

Cover with strips of pie crust woven in a lattice top.

Bake in hot oven 425 degrees for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 325 degrees for additional 30 minutes, or until rhubarb is completely cooked. 

A minor disappointment

A few years ago I thinned out my personal library. I'm not sure just how many books I owned, but it was a lot. I'd spent  several decades accumulating them and rarely discarded any. When the time came for the move from Omaha to Atlanta, though, the herd needed culling. I decided to get rid of any book that didn't pass the "I know I want to re-read this some day." This is a test the S.O. doesn't understand -- once he's read something, that's it. Doesn't matter how good the book was, once he's read it, he's never opening it again. I, on the other hand, enjoy going back occasionally and re-reading favorites. There are books on the shelves that are falling apart because I've worn them out through multiple readings.

Which brings me to my current reading material, A Game of Thrones. I am a huge George R. R. Martin fan. I started reading his short stories back in the '70s. Not surprisingly, I loved A Game of Thrones when I first read it back in 1996, and I've liked every other book in the series. I also like the HBO series. I've been meaning to go back and read the entire series (or what there is of it so far; Martin plans a total of seven volumes but has completed only five to date) ever since reading A Dance  with Dragons last year. Well, this week I finished everything I had checked out from the library, discovered said library is closed until December 26, so decided this would be a good time to re-read A Game of Thrones.

That's when I discovered a horrible thing has happened since 1996. Back then, once I started reading I had a hard time putting the book down. It was one of those novels where I'd start reading in early evening, get sucked into it,  and then discover the clock said 4 a.m. Now I'm having the opposite problem. The book has turned into a hard slog. Is it because seeing the series reminded me that Catelyn Stark is a stupid bitch, and I really don't care much about what happens to her or her self-centered, whining older daughter? Is it because I know Eddard Stark is going to die, and he's one of the few characters I actually like even if he is pigheadedly stupid? Who knows. The bottom line is that suddenly I'm looking at the other four volumes and wondering if hanging on to them was a mistake.

Even worse, I'm viewing the other books on the shelves, the non-Martin works, with suspicion, too. How bad was my judgement 10, 20, or 30 years ago? How disappointed am I going to be in a novel I thought was a keeper back in the '80s but turns out to be dreck now? How many books do I own that I've wasted time and energy toting around the country that could have just as easily gone to Goodwill? I'm going to try not to think about it. . .

Why I haven't had much to say lately

The move has begun.

Where has all the peanut brittle gone?

You'd think that in a state famous for peanuts, it would be easy to find some peanut brittle.  Apparently not.  I wanted some to send to a friend who lives in Finland, but have been failing to find any in stores I've checked.  I'm beginning to think I'll have to resort to making it myself. 

A distraction

Today's the election, it will be in the back of my mind most of the day -- will the Rethuglicans manage to steal another one? How successful will they be with their vote suppression efforts? -- but for now I'm focusing on other issues. Like sizing vintage dresses.

I inherited about a dozen "Lucy" dresses from an aunt. They were stashed in the attic when we cleaned her house out about 12 years -- she put it up for sale after moving into an assisted living place. Most of the clothes and other attic odds and ends went to the Salvation Army, but I took about a dozen dresses that looked to be circa 1955-1960 because I thought they looked kind of neat and they might come in handy for Halloween costumes. Plus, of course, the dresses with full skirts had zillions of yards of material (this striped sleeveless number being a classic example; that skirt has about four yards of material in it) -- and I quilt.

The dresses are great -- I'm willing swear I saw Lucille Ball in one just like a blue linen number that's part of the stash, and, if not Lucy, then for sure it's been in a Doris Day movie. There's a pink polka dot sun dress that would be ideal for anyone who wants to channel her inner Marilyn Monroe (and it's even the same size Marilyn supposedly wore, a 14), and several nice cotton house dresses that just beg for a string of pearls to complete a June Cleaver outfit. Some are brand new, still have the store tags on them -- which is a minor mystery (why buy a new dress at Gimbels and then never wear it?), but not something I'm going to worry about much.

At one point I almost donated the lot to a small museum in the U.P. that has a "fashion through the years" focus. I also thought about donating them to the theater department at a university for use in costuming. Then I started thinking about selling them -- and did, in fact, try one time on E-bay. The E-bay experience was sufficiently horrific (who would have thought an auction for a vintage dress would bring lunatics out of the woodwork?) that I vowed to never go near E-bay again, either as a buyer or a seller.

Then I discovered etsy.com, "your place for all things handmade." Turns out it's also your place for things vintage, both clothing and supplies, so I'm contemplating opening an etsy store. The big question, though, is what size do I call these dresses. Thanks to vanity sizing, a dress that was a size 14 or 16 back in 1959 might be only a 10 now. A 16 is supposedly a size Extra Large in 2008, but looking at these size 14, 15, and 16 dresses I'm guessing they're Mediums at best. Research is called for -- hence, a distraction. Instead of thinking about stolen votes and/or voter intimidation, I can focus on doing web searches for information on converting 1950s sizes to 2008 sizes.

All I have to do is figure out how to describe them in a way that gives an honest approximation of what body type they might fit now. So I'll spend my day worrying about defunct fashion instead of thinking about the many ways ballot boxes can be metaphorically stuffed (or emptied), and maybe one of these days I will actually set up the etsy store.

Update: It appears vanity sizing is worse than I thought. Several sites have informed me that what was a size 14 for my mother's generation is a size 8 for my daughters. One site had a photo of a model wearing a vintage garment (circa early 1950s) that was a size 12 when originally sold -- the dress appeared to fit quite well, and the model wears a size 2/4 in 21st century clothing. This trend keeps up, who knows? Maybe we'll all be size Zero in the not too distant future.

I guess I'd know this stuff if I ever wore anything other than jeans and souvenir tee-shirts.