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Cincinnati, Or Close Enough: Sharonville

8/15/2014

...Continued from yesterday:

    My first impression while driving around Sharonville, Ohio, the Cincinnati suburb where my daughter Theresa and her husband Phill live, was that this area reminded me of the old historical suburbs of my hometown, Philadelphia.
    For those of you from the Philly area, think Blue Bell, Whitemarsh, those old Montgomery County townships that date back to colonial times.
    Even though I grew up in the city, in the Mayfair and Somerton neighborhoods of Northeast Philadelphia, my sister Romaine used to live out in Blue Bell before she moved to the West Coast, which is probably why visiting Sharonville, Ohio, gives me a wave of nostalgia for the times I used to drive out to lovely Blue Bell to visit Romaine ( who also happens to be lovely!) .
      But I think it's the topography of Sharonville more than anything else - the hills and narrow roads winding by genteel-looking properties - that reminds me of the old Philadelphia suburbs. I can't think of a suburb around Columbus that has the same look or feel. But then the Columbus suburbs are newer and generally flatter than Sharonville, which was settled in 1788 (I looked it up), though Sharonville is likewise about 100 years newer (I looked this up, too) than the Philadelphia suburbs it resembles.
     Sharonville is home to two not-in-Cincinnati Cincinnati attractions, the biggest one being Sharon Woods, the oldest park in Cincinnati (that is, not in Cincinnati) and, so I've heard, the most beautiful.
    Sadly, I can't yet comment on Sharon Woods as, though Theresa and Phill's apartment complex backs up to the park, I haven't yet been there. But it's on my list for next time. Or one of these times.
    But , happily, I can comment on The Root Beer Stand, an eatery famous for its root beer and floats and ranked by Cincinnati Magazine as #12 among the "Top 100 Places in Cincinnati." (We don't care that it's in Sharonville, right?)
    Anyway The Root Beer Stand is quite an awesome little place, though it is in essence just a small fast-food restaurant - but with beaucoup panache!
   The place has been around since 1957 - I guess its, shall we say, "vintage" exterior is considered part of its charm. ( I don't know whether that's real rust or whether they painted fake rust on the building to enhance the motif).

    But was it a fun little place inside?
    Definitely!
    The only seating is at a counter that runs the length of the restaurant and at which every seat was filled.

Though we were among the lucky seated:

For such a small place there's quite a decent menu, including hot dogs, hamburgers, BBQ, steak, chicken, and fish sandwiches, and several kinds of ice-cream desserts including their famous root-beer float. Fortunately, when we went there on Sunday afternoon I was finally in the mood for a real Cincinnati (or not Cincinnati) chili cheese dog smothered in onions:

which, for $2.50, was served up on a perfectly functional sheet of paper. My chips were $.50 and - yes , I fell off the soda wagon again, but it's only my second time since May, I swear - I also had a $.75 mug of diet coke.
Theresa went for a plain hot dog for $1.75 and one of their fabulous root beer floats for $2.50:

While Phill opted for the $4.00 foot-long chili cheese dog, which Theresa taste-tested for him:

    And declared most excellent.
    If you ever visit the Root Beer Stand be sure to bring cash - though you won't need a whole lot - as that's all they accept, but should you forget to, no worries, there's an ATM inside the store.
     And then my weekend of discovering the great things to do not-in-Cincinnati-but-close-enough came to and end and it was time to say good-bye to Theresa and Phill:

Who would now finally have time to catch up on their favorite reading material! ;)
Everyone have a beautiful weekend! 8)

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Cincinnati, Or Close Enough: Part 3, The Rest Of Saturday

8/14/2014

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Theresa and I fumed for a bit about the flash incident at the baby octopus tank, but we finally had to just chalk it up to human nature and move on.
After we'd finished seeing all the exhibits at the aquarium we headed for the exit, and I had to laugh (but only because I don't have kids) at the fact that in order to reach the exit one must first pass through the massive gift shop, which was a wonderland of high-priced irresistible toys, enchanted begging kids and their caving parents.

    I did consider it just a wee bit iniquitous on the part of the aquarium to highjack parents in this fashion after they'd already spent all that money on the entrance tickets. An adult ticket to the Newport Aquarium costs $23 (though Theresa and I got a discount through her work) and a kid's ticket is $15, so you get a couple of parents and a couple of kids and you're talking some bucks. Maybe that's why that old f*rt who flashed the baby octopus felt so entitled. Not, of course, that there was any excuse for what he did.
    Aw, well, I guess all the money the aquarium brings in does go to keeping the aquarium critters afloat. Still, I'm glad I didn't have to try to make it through that gift shop with kids in tow.
    After the aquarium we decided to seek out some lunch on the levee, where we came upon what
Theresa swore was one of the best eateries in Cincy (but not in Cincy, of course, as we were still in Kentucky), Tom + Chee, a fast-foodesque (you order up front then they make it and bring it too you) restaurant that specializes in grilled cheese sandwiches.

Aw, but,what grilled cheese sandwiches they are!
There are probably a dozen different kinds of grilled cheese options on the menu, though Theresa and I opted to split a tom+chee, the store's $4.95 signature sandwich which is cheddar, mozzarella,
tomatoes, and a really tasty garlic seasoning on sourdough bread.

My half of the tom+chee.

Was it good? Ohhhhh yeah! In fact, that tom+chee has knocked out of first place the unforgettable three-cheese grilled cheese sandwich I once had at a bar called Floyd's in Chicago. (Though that three-cheeser is still a close second).
We also split a large Caprese Salad (I think it was $8.95), which was a beautiful-looking (and tasting!) salad of tomatoes layered between slices of mozzarella on a bed of greens and generously garnished with basil leaves with balsamic vinaigrette served on the side.

It really was a picturesque salad before we went and messed it all up.

However besides fancy but structurally normal cheese sandwiches, Tom+Chee also has a substantial menu of these grilled-cheese doughnut concoctions:

Is it just me or does a grilled cheese donut rank in the realm of cullinary abomination right up there with the Ohio State Fair donut burger?

In truth, I didn't notice if the grilled cheese donuts were selling last Saturday or if people were sticking to the sort of thing people normally put in their mouths, but the almost-out-the-door (but fast-moving) line last Saturday attests to the popularity of Tom+Chee.

    After lunch our plan was to drive back across the river to Cincinnati and see some of the actual city. We were planning on checking out a street art show in the Mt. Adams neighborhood, but while sitting in Tom+Chee at the bar that ran along the restaurant window and watching the world go by we realized that we'd lost our mojo for an afternoon of more walking around. Having noticed that there was an AMC on the the levee walking mall I suggested that we skip the art show and catch a movie instead. Theresa was all for blowing off the art and doing a movie.
    So we caught the matinee of "Lucy" a science fiction film starring Scarlett Johansson and Morgan Freeman. "Lucy" had gotten pretty good reviews, but I gave it a zero, as in not positive, not negative, just, well, zero. Theresa liked it, though, so I guess I was missing whatever it was that made people like this movie. I'm often missing whatever it is that makes people like some movies.
    After the movie we headed towards home but stopped first at a half-price book store near Theresa's neighborhood since Theresa needed some reading material and I wanted to look for an Italian grammar book and dictionary as I'd decided to start learning Italian from CD's while driving around in my car. So far I can say "Hello", "Good-bye," "My name is Patti" and "There's an exhibit on Leonardo da Vinci at the museum". (C'e una mostra su Leonardo da Vinci al museo"). Which will come in handy just in case anyone wants to know where there's exhibit on Leonardo da Vinci. All I have to do now is figure out where the museum is.
    Anyway, I did find a dictionary.

    By the time we got home and had sat around for a while it was time to think about eating again.
     Theresa suggested that for dinner we go to an authentic Cincinnati chili joint called Blue Ash Chili that had recently brought Cincinnati more acclaim by appearing on the TV show "Diners, Drive-ins and Dives". Of course, this place wasn't actually in Cincinnati, either, it was in the suburb of Mason.
   It was a cute place, though, with a kind of retro motif:

Only problem was that after Theresa and I sat down we realized that neither of us was in the mood for Cincinnati chili.
So Theresa had a pulled pork sandwich, which she said was really good, and I ordered a gyro salad which was, eh, okay:

But then, who goes to a famous Cincinnati chili restaurant that's not in Cincinnati to order a gyro salad?

To be continued....

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Little Octopus

8/13/2014

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...Continued from yesterday
    In a darkened area of the Newport Aquarium is a large free-standing tank on which each of the glass walls is posted a bright yellow sign forbidding the use of flash cameras in this area.
    In the dark tank are a number of colorful fish, starfish, and a fifty-five pound baby octopus which, when we saw it last Saturday, was curled up and sleeping in an upper corner of the tank.
    The friendly young aquarium volunteer stationed at the octopus tank was more than happy to tell us all about the interesting little (relatively speaking) critter in the tank.
    She told us that the baby octopus sleeps during the day, but at night he's up and is full of mischief. He would knock around the tank equipment, mess with the star fish, and try to escape. So they started giving him legos to play with at night. He loves his legos and now plays with them all night long instead of getting into octopus mischief.
    When he grows up he'll have a tentacle length of about 14 feet.
    Theresa asked the volunteer where they'd keep the octopus when he grew up. Did they have a special big tank for him?
    The volunteer told us that they probably wouldn't keep him that long. She said they used to have a grown-up octopus at the aquarium but it died, so they probably wouldn't get to keep this one.
    I asked he how the octopus died.
        She pointed to the "no flash" sign and said that people ignored the sign and flashed their cameras anyway and so the octopus was flashed to death. Octopi are terrified of the sudden flash of a camera and the sporadic flashing all day long, day after day, was enough to scare the octopus to death. It was part of her job to make sure that nobody flashed this baby octopus.
    Which makes one wonder what's wrong with some people. I mean, the tank being in a dark place and clearly posted with "no flash" signs must make it obvious that camera flashes are harmful to the octopus. Yet people will do it anyway.
    As the volunteer, Theresa, and I watched the peacefully sleeping octopus we saw a bright flash reflected in the tank glass. The baby octopus's eye blinked open.
    We turned around and directly behind us was a well-dressed guy about my age with two probable grandchildren in tow and a big honking camera hanging from his neck.
    "NO FLASHES!" I cried, "You'll hurt the baby octopus!"
    The guy looked at me blankly then walked off.
    "I can't believe that guy!" I cried.
    The little octopus keeper looked crestfallen. She glanced up at the sign. "Maybe we need bigger signs?" she said.
    Nah, I thought , don't bother.
    People like that who don't care wouldn't obey a sign if you smacked 'em with it, which I sorely wanted to do.
    To be continued...

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Cincinnati, Or Close Enough: Part 2, Saturday Morning

8/12/2014

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I'd heard there was a wonderful aquarium in Cincinnati and so I suggested to Theresa (Phill, battling a cold, decided to stay home) that we make that our first stop on our tour of the city's downtown attractions.
    Turned out that there is a wonderful aquarium. But it's not in Cincinnati. It's across the Ohio River from Cincinnati in Newport, Kentucky.
    In fact I was to learn that day that along with the aquarium, the whole tourist section of downtown Cincinnati is located across the bridge in Newport, Kentucky in an area called Newport on the Levee, which is none the less considered a Cincinnati attraction. Go figure.
    Go figure as well that, not only are Cincinnati's aquarium and tourist attractions not in Cincinnati, the Ohio River isn't in Ohio. Ohio begins on the shore of Cincinnati, so Kentucky owns the Ohio River as well as all Cincinnati's good stuff.
    But anyway, if all this is all right with everybody else than I guess it's all right with me, too.
    So while in Cincinnati we did what Cincinnatians do and crossed the bridge into lovely Newport on the Levee:

...and admired the Cincinnati skyline from the other side:

We also crossed the walking bridge between Newport and Cincinnati called the Purple People Bridge:

See, It's painted purple, and it's for people, hence, The Purple People Bridge! 8)
Intriguingly, along the fence of the bridge many locks have been fastened, many of them engraved with the names of persons or couples and a date:

There was also a planter contest going on along the bridge, one of the requirements being that the planters contain edibles as well as ornamentals:

After kicking around for a while on the Levee and the bridge we headed for the Newport Aquarium.

Which was so crowded that we almost felt like we were in a human fish tank:

I think I would hesitate to recommend a visit to the Newport Aquarium on a Saturday in summer to anyone who is the least bit claustrophobic.
That being said, if you're a claustrophobic who likes aquariums it just might be worth it, because this was one awesome aquarium:

The above is a rare shark ray, part sting ray, part shark. This aquarium has the most shark rays in captivity in the world.
But along with the beautiful displays of fish, sharks, jelly fish, snakes, turtles, crabs, alligators, penguins, and every kind of aquatic animal imaginable, there were wonderful, enthusiatic young volunteers stationed throughout the aquarium brimming with seemingly encyclopedic knowledge of the critters in their respective sections:

This young lady supervised the petting of the starfish,

...while this biology student was a storehouse of interesting information on creatures of the Amazon as well as alligators and crocodiles:

And then there was the dedicated girl who was stationed at the tank of the aquarium's only baby octopus,

...and whose mission at the aquarium merits a post of its own, so tune in tomorrow and I'll tell you what we learned from the octopus girl and also about a very thoughtless and inauspicious event that happened at the baby octopus tank before our eyes.
To be continued...

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Cincinnati, Or Close Enough: Part 1, Friday Night

8/11/2014

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     My daughter Theresa and her husband Phill live in Sharonville, Ohio, a pretty, woodsy northern suburb of Cincinnati.
    It recently occurred to me that every time I visit them we always end up hanging around Sharonville or the nearby pastoral 'burbs without ever venturing into the city.
    So I decided to drive down for a visit this past weekend and I proposed that this time we actually do Cincinnati...whatever there might be to do, of which I knew nada when I made the proposal.
     I was, however, assured by Theresa and Phill that that there was in fact stuff to see and do in Cincy and that seeing and doing some of it over a weekend would be a splendid plan.
     I arrived at Theresa and Phill's place on Friday evening.

Theresa in their backyard,

...with their kitty, Dory.

     Soon after our Cincinnatarama weekend began.
    The first activity they had planned was a visit to Jungle Jim's, a massive supermarket that carries grocery products from all over the world.
    Though the Jungle Jim's we visited is located at the suburban Eastgate Mall and therefore not technically within the city limits of Cincinnati, it still is considered a must-see Cincinnati attraction.
    And so we did go to see it, but first we stopped for dinner at another suburban location of a Cincinnati tradition, La Rosa's Pizzeria, also at the Eastgate Mall:

...where we shared an awesomely delicious Florentine Focaccia pizza, which is described in the menu as: "4-cheese blend, Italian spices, red sauce and buttery garlic sauce, mushrooms, spinach, roma tomatoes and green olives", though Phill had them toss some cappacola ham on his half of the pizza.

It was a four-star pizza. A work of art. If you ever make it to La Rosa's at the Eastgate Mall outside Cincinnati I highly recommend the Florentine Foccacia pizza.
Basking in the warm inner glow that follows a supremely satisfying meal, we headed down the mall where we easily located Jungle Jim's with its distinctive marquee and entrance:

And equally distinctive interior:

And restrooms:

Which are optically deceptive: the "port-a-potty" doors actually lead into very nice, spacious restrooms.
Jungle Jim's bills itself first and foremost as an international market, and that it is:

The durian is the fruit from Asia that supposedly smells like rank garbage when you cut into it but it has a big following anyway. No accounting for tastes, huh?

But there are also all the other standard American supermarket departments, some on a grand scale:

The candy department. This is just part of the Pez dispenser department.

The fresh seafood section. (Okay, I am aware that these critters are alive before we eat them, still I'd prefer not to be reminded of it. I much prefer buying them already packaged and wrapped in plastic).

The pastry section and the cooking supplies department, to name a few.
And then there are the fanciful touches to be found throughout the store:

Like the fun-house mirror in the candy department,

...the little movie theater,

...the tasting bar in the alcohol section where folks come to hang out on a Friday night,

...and first-class airplane seats for tired folks like Phill and Theresa to take a little break before heading to the checkout.

    Amazingly, with all there was to purchase at Jungle Jim's we managed to leave the store without buying anything. I guess there was nothing from any part of the world that any of us actually needed.
    And so went the first leg of our Cincinnati - or, surburban Cincinnati, so far - tour.
    Tune in tomorrow for our foray into the city.
    But which city? ;)

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An Evening Of Music. And Food

8/8/2014

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    Phew! It's over. Another recital pulled off, and now all our nerves can go back in their corners for a while.
    I can tell you how the recital went, or, how I think it went, or if you'd like you can watch it, some of it, all of it - or none of it- if you'd like. Our videographer puts our recital on youtube for us, (which is why I'm so late with this post - sorry - I was waiting for the link to be set up), so here's the link, if you're interested in seeing how it went:

                                                             http://youtu.be/HWqefY-UJB4

    (Sadly, the boy who was to perform "The Entertainer" was sick, so no "Entertainer" on the video).

    Anyway, we all played on, through the right notes and the rogue notes, the mini-tangles and stellar recoveries, which are sometimes more amazing than the flawless performances.

   And for me it was wonderful to watch these pianists, ranging in age from preschool to middle school, and also a few fearless adults, who work day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year, slowly but steadily building their skill at their instrument and making music a part of what defines them. Now each of them is someone who can play the piano. And at the recitals they share their music with others.
    And even though I believe, as I'm always telling my students, that part of the reason we learn an instrument is so that we can play for others, for most of us performing isn't that easy.
    But last night, once again, we all pulled it off.
    And afterwards came the celebratory pool-party cook-out, where the weather favored us:

...and the hot dogs, hamburgers, mac and cheese, baked beans, green salads, potato salads, cole slaws, chips, dips, veggie trays, fruit salads, watermelon and dozens of desserts tasted all the better being served up with congratulations all around.

The famous mini-cupcakes without which there could be no recital. One of my boy students remarked that "the recital mini-cupcakes are getting girlier and girlier", which makes me think that maybe I should go back to white, non-swirly frosting. I don't want to serve gender-bias mini-cupcakes.

The festivites continued until 10:00, then everybody went home except for the clean-up crew: Tom, me, my nephew Randy (in the foreground) and Tommy (behind Randy).

And we pulled that off, too! 8)

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Tonight's the Night

8/7/2014

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    Tonight is my piano students' summer recital, also known as the pool-party recital, after the pool party and cook-out we'll have afterwards at Foxboro pool in Gahanna.
    I have three recitals a year, the pizza recital in spring, the pool party recital in summer, and the sub sandwich recital in December. The recitals have been categorized by my students according to what we have to eat at our post-performance reception.
     As each recital approaches they start asking me, "Which recital is this?" Meaning, are we having pizza afterwards or subs afterwards? (I supply the main course while the student's families bring the sides and desserts).
    There's generally no confusion in the summer, though, as everybody knows that summer means the pool party recital, where the main course is burgers and dogs.
    The summer, or pool party recital, however, has a special set of logistical issues to deal with.
    We have our winter and spring recital receptions in the ConneXions Center hall of Peace Lutheran Church where we perform. It's a fantastic venue.
For performing:

And for feasting afterwards:

     But after the summer recital we all have to haul tush two blocks up the street from the ConneXions Center to the Foxboro Pool where Tom, Tommy, Randy, and whatever other cheap labor I can enlist have the burgers and dogs cooking on the grill and the tables set up and ready to receive the sides and desserts that the students' families will bring.
    But it all works out. Unless it rains. Then it's kind of a disaster. I went through a spell of about 3 or 4 years when it poured rain on every summer recital night.
    But for tomorrow the weather forecast is chance of rain: 0%.
    That's a four smiley-face forecast! 8) 8) 8) 8)
    But all that is just the challenge of the post-recital pool party/cook-out. I haven't even touched on the challenge of trying to pull together student performances over the summer, when between vacations, camps, sports, and all the summer activites that kids are immersed in, everybody's gone half the time, and when they're home they'd rather be out at the pool than sitting at the piano bench practicing.
    So why do I even attempt to hustle together a recital every summer?
    Because if I didn't I don't think any of us would stay on task from June to September. We'd all slack off then it would take until December to catch up again.
    Anyway, that is my theory. Maybe in my secret heart I believe that my students wouldn't want to give up their lessons or their recital over the summer.   And the pool party is my show of gratitude to them for spending all summer polishing up their pieces.
    And because they faithfully stuck to their practicing all summer long, however they perform tonight they'll all shine.

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Aquaphobia

8/6/2014

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I glanced at the calendar and realized that tomorrow I'll have been soda-free for 3 months. (See the 6/11/14 and 6/12/14 posts on my caffeine-free diet cola addiction).
Okay, almost soda-free. Since I published the photographic evidence in Monday's blog, there's no use trying to deny that I did have a diet Pepsi with my pulled pork platter at the State Fair over the weekend.

    But I don't actually consider that in drinking that one solitary diet Pepsi I fell of the wagon; I prefer to say that I climbed off the wagon. I climbed off, then I immediately climbed back on.
    It was a conscious decision to drink that Pepsi, in that I'd already decided a few weeks ago that one of these days I was going to have a diet soda, just one, to see if it tasted as good as it used to back when I was chain-sipping the stuff all day, every day.
    So when the nice lady who was slinging the pulled pork asked me, "Somethin' to drink with that, darlin'?" I spontaneously decided to have my experimental diet cola right then.
    Still, I wouldn't have chosen that moment to have my diet cola if there had been the available option of some unsweetened ice tea or sparkling water.
    But it was the State Fair. All there was to drink was soda and a few other varieties of hyper-sweetened drink.
    And, of course, bottled water. There's always bottled water.
    But alas, I'm sorry to say that after three months of trying I still haven't learned to like the taste of water. Or rather, the lack of taste of it. For me the blandness of water still seems, when I drink it with food, to drain the food of its taste.
    I don't know how many aquaphobes there are kicking around out there, but I feel like my continuing dislike of water is probably strange enough.
    But here's what makes it even more strange: when I was growing up all we ever drank at home was water. All we ever drank anywhere was water.
    We drank only water because my father, an endocrinologist and researcher who was much ahead of his time, considered whole milk to be too full of fat and calories to be consumed as a drink to wash down a meal that already contained a sufficient caloric content. He said water was better for us with meals, so we drank water. Which was fine by me because I hated milk, unless there was a bowl of cereal under it and a teaspoon of sugar on top of it. (Though since I've discovered almond milk I now no longer have to use milk even to keep my cereal company).
    Anyway, I remember the time when I was about 12 that I went with my friend Michelle (see February 12, 2014 post) to visit her grandparents and stay for dinner. It turned out that there wasn't enough milk to go around for all the children so I, of course, said that I didn't care for any milk anyway, that I'd rather have water. In fact, we'd been outside playing and I was hot and thirsty and really wanted a glass of water. But Michelle's family wouldn't hear of it. They insisted that, since I was the guest, Michelle give me her glass of milk and she drink the water. Which she graciously did. So I forced down the milk and longed for the water while Michelle forced down the water and longed for the milk. So goes life sometimes, right?
    In any case I grew up drinking water with my meals and subsequently my own children drank water with their meals. We all drank water in my household until the day I got a taste of caffeine-free diet cola. Then it was water for everyone else, soda for Mom. All day long.
     But now, except for my little foray at the State Fair, I've been soda-free for three months.
    I've resisted all summer, even last month at my niece's wedding , even back in June at all the high school graduation parties where there were long tables of party food and cake and coolers full of diet soda the way I love it best, ice-cold from being buried in ice.
    And I intend to stay soda-free for as long as I can, getting by on sparkling water, weak iced tea, and, when backed into the corner, plain old healthy H2O. Preferably from the sink. With ice cubes.
    So after three months of abstinence how did my experimental diet Pepsi taste with that pulled pork sandwich, french fries and corn on the cob?
    It tasted so good I could've cried. 8)

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A Tale Of Two 'Crats

8/5/2014

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    I learned a new word from page 11 of the July 27th New York Times Magazine:
    "Oughtocrat".
    According to Lizzie Skurnick, the word's inventor, an oughtocrat is:
    "A person who tells people what he or she thinks they should do."
    That word hit me right between the brain lobes. Yes! thought I, what a great word!
    Who among us doesn't know an oughtocrat or two?
    But the question, I guess, is this: is oughtocracy a good thing or a bad thing?
    I think it can cut both ways or be a mixed bag.
    The main problem with your standard issue oughtocrat is that they have a propensity to dish out advice on issues of which they know nada.
    Like when you're trying to deal with a situation, one that you may have been dealing with and working on for some time and have given a lot of thought to, maybe done research on or sought professional help for, but your situation is not yet resolved. Then along comes an oughtocrat and, hearing of your situation, a situation he or she has never had to deal with themselves, maybe never even heard of before, but in any case, has never given a minute's thought to, jumps right on in and starts giving advice, often even lecturing you on what you ought to be doing. That's oughtocracy at its annoying worst.
    Your true oughtocrat knows little of the art of supportive listening.
    But...On the other hand, some oughtocrats, annoying as they are when they're shelling out the advice, can be good resource people when you actually want some advice, as they may be well-springs of information. And when asked, oughtocrats are usually willing to share whatever they know and will do so with your best interests at heart. Some oughtoctrats are even very helpful human beings as well as advice-givers. If you could just get them to keep their help and advice to themselves until you ask for it. Which you'll never get them to do. They're just too convinced that they know it all. Or at least more than you do.
    I should know. I'm afraid I've been guilty of practicing oughtocracy myself in times gone by.
    But I try hard not to anymore, though I suppose I do slip off the "Keep thy mouth shut" wagon from time to time. Keeping your mouth shut is hard to do, particularly when you're a parent. I think all parents, especially mothers, are guilty of oughtocracy from time to time. We shell out when we'd do better by our kids to just listen. We'd do better by everybody to just listen.
   But worse than the oughtocrat is the I'dofcrat. "I'dofcrat" is the word I made up to describe this particular corollary of the oughtocrat.
   An I'dofcrat is someone who tells you what they'd have done had they been in your situation.
    Unlike the oughtocrat, who sometimes has socially redeeming value, the I'dofcrat just wants to let you know (or make you think) that, in the same situation, they could have done better than you, hence are better than you. As in, "Boy, if my kid pulled something like that I'd of never let him get away with it."
    Thus they are letting you know that they are a better parent than you.
    I'dofcrats are generally full of hoggy.
   That being said, I must confess I've also dabbled in I'dofocracy. But these days I'm likewise trying not to be an I'dofcrat even more than I'm trying not to be an oughtocrat.
    Lord, help me to keep it zipped.

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scenes from the Ohio State fair and a couple from Nicaragua

8/4/2014

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I'm a city girl at heart but once a year when the time rolls around I do love me some Ohio State Fair.

   So does Tom.

    What do we love about the fair?
    Well, actually not the above midway rides. I just liked the backdrop.

    Though we do like the tractor-pulled shuttle ride from the parking lot to the fairgrounds:

It's kind of like a big hay ride but with wooden benches instead of hay.

Also, the State Fair shuttle kind of reminds me of the buses in Leon, Nicaragua which I rode in while visiting Claire when she worked there:

Except that this bus had a roof. That's me in the white hat smiling. ( I eventually gave up my seat to a bent-over old lady who said, "Gracias, chela." ["Thank you, white woman."])

Anyway, I guess that's where the resemblance ends, since the bus in Leon took us to the marketplace (that's Claire in the photo) where they sold this kind of food:

And this kind of stuff:

Whereas the fair shuttle took us to where they sell this kind of food:

And this kind of stuff:

This is a tee-shirt. They had them in lots of colors.

I ended up buying this from a country crafts stand:

    We ate lunch at the Fair.
    However, just as one must be careful about eating street food in Nicaragua to avoid getting hepatitis, one must likewise be careful about eating State Fair food to avoid coming home with type-2 diabetes.

We opted for the "State Fair Healthy Option", pulled pork sandwich platters.

My roasted corn on the cob was so good that I just had to share it with Tom

Who shared my opinion that it was one awesome cob of corn.

    Our appetites well-satiated, we walked around the grounds and saw the sights.
    We visited the Laushe Building and looked at the exhitibits by The Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, and 4-H members.

We saw some interesting & yummy Girl Scout entries and chatted with a sweet, friendly member of the Future Farmers of America.

We visited the crafts exhibitions at the Di Salle Building:

A Brillo pad dolphin and a duck tape purse.

A beautiful table setting with a "Frozen" theme.

And my favorite of all the exhibits, the cakes:

Believe it or not, this life-size wedding dress is a cake.

As is this pick-up truck

We visited the animals:

Strange alien rabbit.

Mama and her 2-day-old baby I passed on this one

   No, these are not the Ku Klux Lambs.
    The sheep are dressed in these outfits to keep their wool clean just before they're entered to before the judges.

Two brothers, children of a sheep farmer, cleaning up the area.
Unfortunately we missed the pigs and horses this year. But it wouldn't be the Ohio State Fair without stopping by the dairy building to see the butter cow sculpture:

Along with the other butter critters:

We also visited the Cox building, which houses the art exhibits, but it was prohibited to photograph the art pieces inside the building.

However I was rather captivated by this piece out on the fairground.

Lastly we visited the Ohio military history exhibition and Civil War encampment (these are all real guys):

Where we met General Sherman:

And we got to see Abraham Lincoln:

And Tom won a water bottle for knowing the answer to 2 out of 3 Ohio trivia questions:

As we spent only six hours at the fair this year we missed, along with the pigs and horses, some other good exhibits, such as those of the Department of Natural Resources and the Department of Transportation.
But it was a well-spent six hours, anyway. And there's always next year, right?

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