The Last Lobster Fest

Vince and I met our good friends Sue and Jeff for dinner last weekend at Brio. One of the soups featured at this restaurant is lobster bisque. Vince loves their lobster bisque!

Me? Not so much. I’m not a big fan of the seafood.

My parents, however, grew up in New England and if they could have had fish every night of the week, I think they would have.

Our summers were not complete without at least one “lobster fest.” And when my parents stayed at their cottage from spring until fall on Cape Cod they’d have “lobstah” at least once a month.

So in May of 2016 Vince and I drove around Columbus looking for a grocery store selling live lobsters. Our plan was to drive to Alliance to bring mom dinner for Mother’s Day. We had baked a cake in the heart-shaped pans that were Vince’s mom’s long ago. And we bought a card and some pretty flowers for her.

After calling around and not having any luck locating live lobsters, I told Vince that mom would be just as happy with a bucket of chicken from KFC and it would be so much easier. But he was determined.

Finally, we called a store that said they had four lobsters left, but another person had called about them. The seafood manager said that since no one had yet paid for them, they were up for grabs to the first person who came in to claim them.

Now I’m not going to say that Vince drove like a bat out of hell…but, well, let’s just say we made it to the store much sooner than we should have, what with speed limits and all. He practically shoved me out of the moving vehicle so I could get to the seafood counter first.  When I finally reached the back of the store, I gasped out that I wanted those lobsters.

And I got ‘em.

(By the way, I was just kidding about Vince shoving me out of a moving vehicle. But I can’t promise what would’ve happened if it had taken me much longer to collect my purse and unlatch my safety belt…!)

Anyway, the seafood manager carefully wrapped those lobsters, which took for-ev-er, but I finally had them in my hot little hands. As I was leaving carrying my prizes, a man hustled up to the counter and, a little out of breath himself, asked for lobster.

While I felt a little bad about it, I also turned tail and wheeled my grocery cart toward the checkout line as fast as I could. I didn’t want to get into any physical altercations over crustaceans. Especially since I’m not a big fan.

But our meal that day was wonderful – and I even ate some. Vince and my dad had carefully removed all the meat from the lobsters so that mom didn’t have to do any of the work, which actually made me a little sad. I can remember all those years, mom loved working the cracker and the little tool to get every last morsel of lobster meat.   

We took photos and enjoyed our day together. Little did I know that it was to be the last Mother’s Day we’d spend in Alliance. And we’d never get to celebrate Father’s Day in June with dad as he had his fall a little more than three weeks from that day.

Looking back, I’m so very glad we didn’t opt for the easy way out with a bucket of chicken that Mother's Day. And I’m so grateful to Vince that he insisted we go the extra mile to find live lobsters for my parents. 

I believe those moments illustrate how important it is to make the most out of every opportunity to show the people in our lives how much they mean to us. Because you never know when it will be the last time.

So last weekend when I saw lobster bisque on the menu, I ordered a bowl to go. And the next day I took it to my mom for her dinner.

Mom’s appetite isn’t what it used to be and she rarely finishes the small portion of food she has on her plate.

But she ate every drop of that lobster bisque. When she found a piece of lobster on her spoon, she smiled and savored it. If she could have licked the bowl, I think she would have.

It made her happy for a moment. And that brought me so much joy, I'm still smiling about it.

Something Good Comes from Something Evil

I was in Alliance last weekend visiting my parents and two of my three siblings and their spouses. It was nice to all be together, although we missed my sister and her family.  And Vince wasn't able to join us either since he was working.

But it’s sort of a good thing that there weren’t four additional people crammed into my parents’ family room.  Our collective body heat would have sent the temperature inside the house soaring to near triple digits. 

I know I recently wrote a blog complaining about the heat at my parents' house, but I’m telling you, my mother has the thermostat set so high I’m fearful one day one of us might spontaneously combust.

And with my luck, it would probably be me.

Fortunately, my brother Andrew and I decided to get away from the inferno by taking a little trip to the Carnation mall.  It’s not like we were trying to relive our youth by hanging out at the mall hoping to see some of our high school friends; we actually had a purpose for going there.  Besides, that mall wasn’t even around in our youth.

No, what we were doing was attending an event my good friend Diana created in honor of her late dog, Sampson.  It was the inaugural debut of the Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon. 

Sampson was an 11-year-old border collie/chow mix and a cherished member of Diana’s family, but when he wandered off their property a couple years ago, he was senselessly shot, killed and then buried by someone living nearby.  It was a horrific act that sent Diana and her husband and daughter into a tailspin. This individual was tried and fined and sentenced to jail for 30 days, which is a mere slap on the wrist for something so heinous.  But at least he didn’t get away with it without any repercussions whatsoever. 

Since that time, Diana has spent many hours volunteering at shelters, walking dogs and advocating for the rights of animals.  And Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon was her first effort at helping various shelters raise money and awareness of their adoption and foster programs – all in memory of her beloved pet.

So my brother and I first stopped at a pet store and picked up a gargantuan bag of dog food to donate to one of the shelters.  Fortunately, Andrew was there to haul the bag around as I probably would’ve needed surgery to repair my broken shoulder after trying to lift the bag.  Those suckers are heavy!

This worked in Andrew’s favor, however, as he is the one who brought it to the donation table and then filled out his name and address as an entry for one of the door prizes (even though we split the cost of the bag of dog food).

But I suppose if you do the heavy lifting, you should be the one to reap the benefits.  (This is me trying to be all adult-like and mature - right?)

Diana’s husband, daughter and siblings were all there in support of her event as were a couple high school friends – so it was fun to talk and catch up and take some photos.

There were tables set up and manned by various local rescue and shelter organizations and lots of gift baskets that were being raffled off with the donations to benefit the shelters. 

And there were dogs and cats on-site hoping to be adopted into good homes. 

It was a fantastic effort and I was even more impressed when I learned that Diana put together this entire event in only three short weeks. 

When it was over, all of the animals on-site had completed adoption applications and I am hopeful that they have all since gone to live in happy homes.

And that’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?  Animals have an incredible capacity to love their humans – even if some humans don’t deserve such love. 

But for the majority of us (I’m thinking positively here), we cherish our pets – so much so that they truly become part of our families. 

I have never understood how someone could adopt a pet – and then leave them out in the cold or give them up or not take care of them properly.  Because those animals almost certainly love their humans unconditionally.

It’s so easy to love a pet.  Sure, there are messes sometimes.  Take our cat Twinklebelle, for instance. She regularly yaks up hairballs that require heavy-duty cleaning, particularly when she decides the white carpet in the living room is the perfect place for her hairball donation.  And she tends to take flying leaps off our laps whenever she gets startled, which can leave vicious claw-marks on our legs. 

And I can't imagine there is anyone out there who really likes cleaning the litter box.  Or who loves following their dog around with a pooper scooper. 

But our Twinks is the most lovable kitty, and purrs like a race car when you give her even a tiny bit of attention. 

And, in my book, that makes every hairball clean-up worth it.  Besides, I never did like that white carpet all that much anyway.

So I just wanted to give a Jane’s Domain “shout-out” (do people even say that anymore?!) to Diana for her successful event – and cheer her on for next year’s Second Annual Sampson’s Salvation Adopt-a-thon. I’ve already promised to give her a hand – and I know she’ll take me up on it.  When it comes to our furry friends, they have no greater champion than Diana.

Go Di!!

Oh, and PS, my brother ended up winning the prize for the dog food donation. But, I, too, was lucky and I won the Ohio State Gift Basket.  I'd say that's a win-win all around - for our furry friends and for us!

Life has Been Busy in Jane's Domain

Life has been hectic in recent weeks and I’ve spent very little time in front of the computer. 

Well, okay, that’s not exactly true.  I have spent time on the computer handling things like bill paying and junk e-mail deleting. 

But by the time I’ve balanced our accounts, deleted my way through my inbox and spent a moment or two perusing Facebook, I’m tired of sitting in front of the computer and I move on to something else. 

Needless to say, I’ve been lagging on the blog-writing lately.  I’ve thought about it, sure, but have I done it?  Noooo.

So I’m tryin to dash off a quick blog today – just to get back in the habit, you know.

My alternative is to clear cat hair off the second floor stairs landing where Jinx has taken up residence lately.  Or I could continue trying to clean up the coffee stain on the carpet where I knocked over an entire cup of coffee yesterday morning.

But just thinking about handling those chores makes me weary. 

First of all, I suspect I could build another cat with all the fur that is on the carpet because it’s normally white.  The carpet, that is.  Jinx-the-cat is mostly black.  And now the carpet is more greyish/blackish than it is white.  That, my friends, is a LOT of cat hair.

And I’ve already spent a lot of time on my knees in front of that big, ugly coffee stain.  Scrubbing, mostly, but I may have even thrown in a prayer or two while I was at it.  But I’m not sure anyone is listening as there is still a big Hazelnut coffee stain on the carpet that is simply not coming out.  And we just had the carpets professionally cleaned a little while ago.  Guess it’s time to move the loveseat a little to the left, eh?! 

Either that, or I’ll just have to blog on.

So, let’s see. What can I tell you about?  Hmmm.

Well, in recent weeks Vince and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary and I celebrated turning yet another year older.

And we just returned from our one and only vacation this year in Carolina Beach, North Carolina.  We had a great time visiting friends and spending time with Vince’s son, who is stationed at Camp LeJeune.

No sooner did we return from that trip then I hopped back in the car for a little five hour jaunt to get my parents’ signatures on some official documents that needed to be notarized. So we spent some time in a local bank in Alliance, Ohio. 

I’m telling you, I wasn’t sure I could stand all the excitement.

But I was able to help out my parents – and we recently had the closing on the little cottage in Parkwood Beach.  Yes, we sold it.  And, yes, it sometimes still makes me a little sad.  But, on the whole, I’ve come to terms with letting the family cottage go.  I mean, we just knew that we wouldn’t make use of it like my grandparents did or my parents did.  So it was time.

And the new owner is thrilled to have the place.  Our realtor said he’s already taken up the carpeting and is waxing poetic about the hardwood floors underneath. 

During the past month I spent quite a bit of time pulling all the family photos, slides and negatives that we had taken through the years of our vacations at the cottage and put together a big Shutterfly book.  My parents and siblings and I all got copies of it so that when we get nostalgic or want to relieve old memories, we’ll have something to remember the place by.

So that’s what I’ve spent my time doing in recent weeks.  Well, that – plus the mountain of dirty laundry I’ve done and the mountain of dishes I’ve cleaned and the mountain of cat hair…

…Oops.  I guess I haven’t quite finished that last mountainous chore.

Guess I’d better go scrape up some black kitty fur.  Clearly, that chore is not going to handle itself.

Meanwhile, I hope you’ve all had a happy summer.  And are looking forward to a happier fall. 

I’ll write again soon.  (Hopefully!)

Remembering Alliance...

There is this group on Facebook called “You Know You’re From Alliance…” and people have been blowing up the site with memories from their childhoods. It’s been so much fun reading their memories and everyone’s comments after each one.

But…I have to say…: “Did I grow up in the same town??”

Either that, or I’ve just forgotten every memory I ever had of the place.

No, that’s not really true. I have wonderful memories of Alliance. But the specific details that people are recalling with names and businesses and locations, well, that’s a little murkier for me. Of course, I can’t tell you all the streets I drive to get myself home every day now – and I’ve been traveling those same streets for nearly nine years. AND I’m an adult.

Besides, as a kid, my tether wasn’t all that long.

I would add some of my own memories to the site itself, but I wouldn’t want everyone coming back at me with corrections. I’d say, “I remember ice skating somewhere near Mt. Union College.” And people would respond with the exact location, the names of the people who monitored the skaters, and the specific thickness the ice needed to be before skating was allowed.

I don’t remember any of that. All I remember is getting new ice skates. I don’t remember where we got them, but it surely was somewhere in town as we didn’t go to the “big city” of Canton for much. It was apparently too far away.

I remember King’s department store and Woolworth’s. I remember taking sewing lessons somewhere down on Main Street. And I remember going to Sugar & Spice bakery after church on Sundays where my dad bought chocolate frosted cream stix every week, which were the best cream stix I ever had. We never ever had maple or vanilla frosted cream stix, by the way. Only chocolate.

But do I remember where Sugar & Spice bakery was located? Nope. I didn’t know then and certainly don’t know now!

When I was a kid, we were allowed to walk or ride our bikes to Buckeye Village Market, which felt like freedom to us since that meant we could cross State Street. I’m not even sure what we bought at Buckeye, unless it was the odd can of corn or loaf of bread that mom needed for dinner that night.

I do remember buying my own birthday cake at Buckeye when I turned 16. My mom was out of town taking care of my sick grandmother and my dad, of course, was working. So I was responsible for making my birthday dinner for the five of us. Dad even gave me money and told me to buy a birthday cake.

Normally, I was the baker in the family, so all our birthday cakes were homemade. (Read: not as good as store bought birthday cakes.) So, even though I was mortally embarrassed to go to the bakery and order a cake for myself, I did it because a store-bought birthday cake was a real treat. And my brothers and sister would’ve killed me for passing up the opportunity. So off I went. Except that I knew the girl taking the order. It was the owner’s daughter – and I had been in the same class as her younger brother. I first told her that it didn’t need any writing on it – but she insisted. “Who’s it for, Jane? Your brother John – or is it for Andrew? Or maybe your little sister?”

“Um, nooo…,” I finally stammered. “It’s for me.”

The look she gave me was filled with pity. “Aw, Jane,” She said. “You have to order your own birthday cake?”

She probably thought my family was horrible.

Interestingly, I have absolutely no memory of getting that cake home. I can’t imagine schlepping a store-bought birthday cake across State Street and down…uh…y’know…that one street...before getting to…um…that other street before turning down Crestview.

Yikes. I need a remedial memory course. Either that, or a map.

But, let’s see – what else can I remember? Oh, I remember some other little store named…um…maybe, Meadowbrook? We’d ride our bikes there to get something cold to drink in the summers. I don’t remember what we got to drink. Other people have remembered the exact old-fashioned drinks they drank and where they drank them. Sheesh. Maybe I should have recorded more about the town in my diary and less about, say, “The Partridge Family” or “The Monkees.”

Wow. So many of my childhood memories are of food stores. Apparently they were the only ones close enough. The stores with the “good stuff” – like clothes and jewelry and shoes – were too far away. Probably why I don’t much care for grocery shopping today, but never pass up an opportunity to hit Macy’s or DSW.

As a kid, we played more in my neighborhood than around town. But I remember having a blast running and pogo-stick jumping and hoola-hooping and tree climbing. And we didn’t come home until we heard Mom ring the bell for dinner. (Yes, sadly, we were summoned by a ringing bell.)

Of course, once we were of driving age, my world opened up a little bit and I have lots of great memories of fun times with my friends. Maybe I’ll try to recall some of those memories next time. Hopefully, it won’t be, “I remember that one time when we were driving around that one place – you know – and we had fun.”

But don’t expect me to remember the name of the street we had fun on. Not gonna happen. After all, I haven’t taken that remedial memory course yet.

And I still don’t have a map.