Once in a blue moon

Once in a blue moon, Nancy and I get a taste for some good old fashioned tangy, smoky barbeque. Luckily, we did get a recommendation from someone, but because we’re old, we can’t remember who it was from or the name of the restaurant. We knew it was “Moon” something.

Googly eyes and hotdog fingers

Agreed, that title is very weird. You, dear readers, may be scratching your head in confusion and bafflement. Honey, you don’t even know the half of it. Trust me, this was my first feeling when I saw the trailer for Everything, Everywhere, All At Once. The latest from distributor A24 in theaters, we should know a bit of what we are in for if you saw my reviews for The Lighthouse or The Green Knight. Arthouse and avant-garde are the best descriptions for their output. And this release is no exception.

A pencil-thin line between stranger and friend

In the summer of 1992, I was packing up for my first semester of college. I was 17, about to move to another state, to live in a dorm where I knew no one.

That’s when my Dad gave me a gift, wrapped in the comics from the Sunday paper. The Sunday funnies were always the first choice for wrapping paper in my house, and Dad would take extra care to wrap it so that his favorite comic strip — featuring Charlie Brown and Snoopy — were prominently displayed on top. You would never fold the flap over Snoopy, or place tape over Charlie Brown. No, the Peanuts gang always got top billing as gift wrap.

Ask an Angel: April 21, 2022

‘m writing about my father who is approaching his 90th birthday. He is my mother’s primary caregiver, who’s in her mid-eighties and has early-stage dementia. They live in a single-family home. I’m fortunate to live nearby and pop in often to visit. They also come to our home for dinner regularly. While he’s in relatively good health, I’m growing concerned about his driving ability. He doesn’t drive too far and seems to have set his own limits (such as not driving at night). However, I’m not sure how long he should continue driving, even locally.

There’s no entrance exam for parenthood

Before we had children, my husband and I decided to adopt a cat.

We were in our early 20s, starting our jobs that we hoped would turn into careers, living in a sunny one-bedroom apartment. We had to download forms off the internet, fill them out, and take them to an office where a woman looked at us sternly from across her desk. She asked us if we had a vet.

A vet? No, we don’t have a vet. We don’t even have a pet. Yet.

Florida Man tales are hilarious – until they aren’t

If you’re looking for a chuckle some time, Google “Florida Man.” The laughable parade of ridiculous clowns is endless:

The Florida man who told police he couldn’t be arrested for drinking and driving because he only gulped his bourbon at stop signs.

The Florida man who stole a Walmart mobility scooter so he could drive his date to a sports bar.

The Florida man who fast-tracked an effective vaccine against Covid, but then told America to inject bleach into their veins instead.

When my friend Carol and I met him in early March, he told us he had just celebrated the 36th anniversary “of the day that put me in this chair.”

Out of hibernation

Spring has sprung, tra-la, tra-la!!! The daffodils are poking their heads out of the ground, and we are all poking our heads out from behind our masks (hopefully for good this time). We felt like Mamma and Papa Bear coming out of hibernation as we left our cave one sunny day with bear sized appetites. First thing on our list, go to the bank to get a loan so we can fill up the gas tank of the Mini-Mobile. Second is getting Mamma Bear, who has been cooking all winter long, out of the kitchen, and last but not least, to satisfy my Papa Bear appetite.

Growing Pains

A change is in the air as Spring kicks into high gear. Mother Nature’s tempestuous mood swings have us in its throughs, much like those growing into adulthood. Some readers may not remember what it is like to be in those formative years. Or, at least, they recollect those halcyon days through more rose-tinted glasses.

As spring break is upon us, some younger relatives may be visiting. If so, these films will make for a good way to pass the time. Maybe even help to start a conversation.

Ask an Angel: March 24, 2022

The older I get, the more and more trouble I have falling asleep. I can be exhausted, only to find myself wide awake by the time my head hits the pillow. I wake up in the morning feeling groggy and often find myself nodding off while I’m reading a book or watching television. To make matters even worse, I wake up at least four nights a week to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. I’m tired of feeling tired all the time.

Pandemnesia

It could be argued that, between the fact that my husband is a band director at a large high school and that all four of our children have either gone through or are going through the music department at the same high school, I have attended dozens —-maybe hundreds? —- of concerts.

I enjoy the concerts, but you could say that over the course of a couple decades, the novelty of attending these live performances has worn a bit thin.

Debating the merits of angel-sparrow wrecking balls

My friend Carol has been spending a lot of time lately thinking of her childhood as a good Irish Catholic girl on Chicago’s South Side. It’s not that she’s questioning her faith or anything, or worrying if her soul’s ledger will end up in the debit or credit column. She’ll be fine in that regard.

No, it’s that when she talks to her 16-year-old granddaughter, she’s astounded at how Ella’s modern-day Catholic upbringing is so different from her own old-school Catholic upbringing.

Spring-cleanup gardening tips

Pre-covid, my husband and I regularly hosted parties celebrating holidays, birthdays, and graduations. Friends and family gathered for lively conversation, good food, and lots of laughter. After everyone would head home, my husband and I began the process of cleaning up. Although now I regularly go to sleep with a few dishes in the sink, the idea of waking up and spending several hours cleaning motivated me to just get it done. Sleeping in the next day was the reward.

Fire! Fire! Fire!

There is not a woman in the world who will tolerate her husband sitting around the house with nothing to do. Whenever I turn on the TV to see how Arnold (the pig) Ziffel is fairing on Green Acres, Nancy starts cleaning something. Because I am tall, I am immediately drafted to help her Spring clean the unreachable places. After two days of this activity, I pulled out the husband trump card and said, “let’s go to a casino.” She immediately put down her Swiffer, grabbed her Diamond Jo’s reward card, and counted her money as she ran for the car.

A little murder among friends

Thaw is on, and the buds are giving way to spring. For most, restrictions are alleviating. Wanderlust gives way to a sense of adventure. A vacation is in order after all we have been through. Only problem is where to go? What is better than somewhere more exotic. International voyages can be an option. Just make sure that the accommodations are safer than those conjured by a certain mystery writer.

Agatha Christie has long been the grand-dame of the genre ever since she put word to paper. Solving clues with each turn of the page, filmmakers never fail to resist adaptation of her most famous investigator: Hercule Poirot.

Ask an Angel: March 10, 2022

My elderly parents prefer that I order their groceries online and have them delivered to their home. They’ve always eaten rather healthy. Recently, I’ve noticed that their grocery lists have been filled with more processed foods than usual. My mom is in the early stages of dementia, and I know my dad has assumed the role of chef. His repertoire is not very deep, although he can follow recipes. I’m concerned about their overall diet.

Confessions of a library lover

My childhood library stood directly across the street from the church where my father was a minister. When I wasn’t helping Dad in the church folding bulletins, or sharpening the pencils in the pews, I was across the street, exploring our local library. I spent hours there. Each time I entered the front doors and heard the soft trickle of water coming from the fountain in the lobby, I felt as though I’d walked into a space just as sacred as the sanctuary across the street.

Drowning under a zero-tolerance wave

It started with an innocent question from a high school student: Why did the Washington Football Team have to change its name? The answer, it turns out — at least in the judgment of some— w as less than innocent.

Mary DeVoto, a Mother McAuley High School teacher of 41 years, was fired for violating a zero-tolerance rule of ever speaking a word that I assume I can’t print here for the same reason. (I won’t test that theory and put my editor in the uncomfortable position of deleting the word — or its writer — from this publication.)