Strawberry Fields in Containers

Let it be known that no plants were meant to be harmed in this endeavor.

That being said, I am starting a container garden.

This week I planted some peppers, herbs, peas, and strawberries. I also have some corn that I am trying to figure out how I am going to grow it. I will be moving these guys from my room to the patio in the spring. I wanted to give them as good of a start as possible seeing as how the odds are stacked against them with me as their caretaker.

I'll keep you posted on how this goes. The only thing I can promise is that it will be interesting. I figure I managed to keep Petri the Palm Plant alive for 8 months, and now I have Charles the Evergreen the 2nd. They seem to be doing alright.  I got naming them from Allison. I only do it for the ones that I really don't want to die. Flowering plants don't get names. I kill those often and without mercy. Hence why there are lots of green plants in my room. So if you have any ideas for plant names so I don't kill the corn, peppers, herbs, peas and strawberries I am open for suggestions.

I've gotten a little confidence from the book Bountiful Container by Mcgee and Stuckey. It is a very easy read. Anyways...I guess wish the plants luck. They are going to need a lot of it.

Cheers to Art

 

I woke up at 8:30am last Saturday morning to my alarm going off. I was a little disoriented. I was sleeping on my cousin Allison's couch with her sister Ana sleeping at my feet. For a few brief moments I forgot why I had set the alarm. Then slowly not only did the memory of the night before trickle back into my brain, but also the fact we had a painting class we needed to get to.

With many groans and grumbles we all got up and made ourselves look presentable for the public. The night before was very fun, however we stayed up until about 4am. With our bottles of water and sunglasses at the ready we were on our way.

Our destination was a place called Cheers to Art. Think of it as painting for dummies. There you are given paint, brushes, canvas, and an instructor to follow that gives you dummy proof instructions. I had taken a class like this before with my sister Michelle and brother in-law Tom in Louisville.

We entered through a really neat boutique full of fun knicknack's and scarves. After we checked in at the counter they handed us our complimentary mimosas and showed us to our seats. One word of advice if you want to do this, book it at least two weeks in advance. Seats sell out often.

With brushes in hand and paint at the ready, the overly friendly lady began to walk us through what to do. There were about thirty people in the class. We were seated near the back so it was a bit difficult to see. Still, she was able to explain things well enough that I was able to muddle through.

The class isn't paint by numbers. It is more of a, "Hey if you want to do it like this you can." The greatest was when the instructor told us that we didn't have to do everything she said. You would think that was obvious. It isn't like you are being graded, and at the end of the day you are the one that has to live with the painting.

The class was refreshing and relaxing. I don't know what it is about swirling paint on canvas that gets all of your frustration out. Allison later told me that she was nervous due to her lack of painting experience. I think when I forced her to sign up for the class she thought I was crazy. She later admitted she was happy she did it. I had no doubt her sister Ana would enjoy it. With her I think if any event includes interactive art or music, she's in.

There is something to be said for finishing any kind of art project. Even though someone walked us through this one, there is that sense of accomplishment. That feeling of, "I made that!" The ability to tangibly touch something you did.

In today's world, especially at my work, I don't think we get that too often. Everything for me is done on a computer screen or has multiple hands in it. I feel most of us are missing that ability to actually look at our work at the end of the day and feel a sense of completion. We aren't building fences in a day or hunting. We are sending out emails and having meetings about meetings.

That is why I think the paint class was such a fulfilling experience. While we were instructed on what to do, we were still able let our personalities shine through. The greatest thing for me though again was the ability to hold my work in my hands at the end of the day.

I have to say, even with the lack of sleep it was fun. It was great getting to talk and connect with two people I love in a new way. It was great getting to actually work with my hands and also learning to do something new. I would recommend this for anyone. Even if you can only draw stick figures, this class will have you making pretty fun flowers in no time.

 

Pompilios and Circumstance

Drawing of Ellie

Last Wednesday I received a phone call from one of my cousins asking me if I would like to go to Pompilios. I had originally planned on going to a square dance class. Yes, square dancing. Don't make fun of me. It will eventually happen.

Anyways, I canceled the square dance lesson and headed on down to Newport after work to meet up with a couple of my cousins and my God Father. The food at Pompilios was okay. I would say a step up from Olive Garden. The company was way better.

It was nice getting to talk with everyone, including my God Father. It is always strange to me when people who were adults when I was growing up, speak to me like an adult. I do realize that I am one. Still, it makes me giggle when I think of how the term adult is really a facade. Personality wise I haven't changed much since high school. At least I don't think so. I still laugh whenever any ones says the word "boobies". Just typing that word now actually made me grin.

There were crayons on the table. Right away I picked them up and started making stars and squiggles and little stick figures. The same shapes I've been doodling since grade school. My cousins did the exact same thing, only ten times better. The above picture was drawn on a whim by one of them. It wasn't until we pushed her that she decided to take it with her. The girl definitely has talent.

Under different circumstances I might have paid more attention to the food and other details. But that evening all that really interested me were the cool people I was surrounded by.

Cincinnati Mall

I work in Fairfield. Exit 41 off of 275. Everyday I drive past exit 39 and a huge sign that advertises for Cincinnati Mall. I never stop. There isn't any point really. While it is a rather large space it isn't actually a mall anymore. Basically just four huge chain stores with a lot of causeway in between and a Danburry. The mall just never got it right.

I pulled up after work on Monday. It was snowing. As I walked in the place felt eerie and to top it all off I could hear a child's laugh. A recording that played a couple of times, that I suppose was meant to be welcoming but really just made me think I'd made a terrible mistake and Freddie was going to get me. The laugh came from a collection of children's rides. The kind that cost a quarter and you can't understand why kids like them but you remember loving them as a kid too.

Right next to this small island of rides was the entrance to Kohls. But further down there was nothing. This two story behemoth of a mall full of over 200+ store fronts is, for the most part, a retail wasteland. There were signs for Auntie Ann's and Claire's, two stores I think of as staples in any actual mall. They were boarded up, or in Auntie Anne's case, just a sign.

As I walked through the mall couldn't help but get the feeling I was trespassing. Simultaneously I couldn't help but think of how America's purchasing habits have changed. That this abandoned giant is someones trophy failure. It also made me think of how I would defend myself there in a zombie apocalypse. It could work out great since no one is really there and Bass Pro Shop has boat loads of weapons and boats.

Food supplies would be a problem. There was only a Japanese express restaurant, a Gold Star, and a questionable snack place. Still the awkwardly placed gymnastics place apparently serves beer and salads. Also there are an unusually high number of M&M and Coke vending machines per square foot.

It also might work out brilliantly because the Cincinnati Mall is actually head quarters to Lakota Robotics Thunderhawks. They are a part of a program called FIRST for high school kids. In January they were given the challenge to not only build a robot that can play Frisbee golf but also climb a jungle jim. I actually spoke with some of the high school kids on the team. From my first impression I could tell they are pretty gosh darn brilliant. The shop that they occupy is full of gads of interesting robots and trophies. Apparently the robot they had on the floor could shoot 3 pointers. I was intimidated.

After that I just sat for a while. The place in general is visually pleasing. How often in today's society can you find a big open indoor space that is mostly quiet? I found a comfortable chair on the second floor and looked down upon the empty dream. If you can't tell I do have a soft spot for things that haven't lived up to their full potential. I wonder what that says about me?

From my perch I thought of what a younger me would have done with so much room to play. Tag came to mind. How awesome would it be to play tag in such a ginormous space? Or what about a giant game of two story hide and seek? Also sitting there for a while, I noticed the mall wasn't as vacant as I thought. People kept running and speed walking past me. Other people have noticed this great empty space and repurposed it as a free indoor track. Again fast runners, smart kids, and weapons make me think great place to hide from zombies.

Ethiopia

My parents called me on Thursday and asked if I wanted to join them for dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant. I'm not going to lie. My first thought was, "What are we going to do? Just smell stuff?"

Honestly when you hear Ethiopian, is food the first thing you think of? If so you are definitely worldlier than I am. I don't know much about Ethiopia. However, the name calls to mind those sponsor a child commercials. More empty bellies and not a full one.

My dad was apparently the one that initiated the idea. Still unclear really how he came up with wanting to go, but that is where it stands. On my first week of challenging myself, my parents sort of challenged me. I don't know if they are reading this but it is sort of fitting. They were the ones that forced me to do Girl Scouts and that move, I can officially say after 20 years, was a good one.

The restaurant we went to is called Habesha on Crookshank. When we walked in the TV was blaring. I think we definitely caught them off guard, since no one else was in the restaurant.

The atmosphere was interesting. The seating was pretty standard. In the corner was a small stage with a stove burner and a tray of coffee mugs sitting close to the ground. The pictures on the wall seemed to be going for some sort of traditional look. The look and the feel of the restaurant really clashed though with the bar that was set up in the corner opposite to the stage. After a few moments of us sitting there the bartender turned on some lights behind the bar that kept changing colors, and music with a really prominent bass line. Think small village hut meets mid 2000s night club. You could tell that they were trying really hard. Still, they seemed to have missed their mark.

We ordered some very good coffee and then asked the waitress what she thought was best to eat. I sat with my parents and discussed day to day things, when a boy with a box caught my eye. He couldn't have been more than 6 and he was lugging a box his size behind him from the kitchen. "The only thing better than a toy is the box it came in," my dad said.

Truer words were never spoken. I have yet to meet a kid that doesn't love to climb into a box. To a kid, boxes have endless possibilities. They can be a car, a space ship, a boat, a house, or anything. I have a very vivid memory of hiding in a box my dollhouse came in while Mola Ram was ripping out hearts in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The best Indiana Jones in my opinion, but that is neither here nor there.

The boy was shooed back into the kitchen as the waitress brought out our food. It reminded me of a painter's pallet. It was full of an assortment of different things to try. Half the names of which I am sure I would butcher if I tried to pronounce them. The bread that came with the dish reminded me of a sour dough crepe. Dad and I dug in using the bread as our utensil. Again this ironically calls to mind Temple of Doom and the scene of them eating in the village. The movie took place in India, I know. The thought just made me happy. There is something to be said about not using a fork.

While my father and I were well prepared to just dig in with our hands, my mother surprised me. Barbie, the woman who will push me to do things like climbing up the Statue of Liberty to the crown, refused to eat with her hands. She used a fork and her own separate plate. In traditional Schwendenmann fashion my father and I made fun of her for it. Even then she refused to bend.

The food was an amazing assortment of flavors and textures. The portion we got was a little much for three people. We ordered three entrees but could have easily gotten by with two. I still would have ordered all three of the ones we got if I had to do it over. It was nice being able to try so many different things.

Well after my belly was full I couldn't help but tell myself, "Oh, one more bite won't hurt." The whole dish is served on top of the same bread we were using to dip. The bread underneath soaked up all of the liquid from each of the courses. It was amazing.

In conclusion I would definitely go back there again. It isn't an everyday meal. I would only bring people there that I trust would not double dip. Even with the interesting atmosphere I had a good time.



Not the greatest picture of the outside. The camera on my phone kinda sucks.

William Henry Harrison's Tomb

William Henry Harrison was the 9th President of the United States. A member of the Whig party. Abraham Lincoln actually campaigned for him. During his campaign people came to believe that he lived in a log cabin and drank hard cider. The truth is that he grew up on a plantation in the south and really didn't like drinking that much.

Harrison is mostly remembered for being the first president to die in office and also had the shortest term (30 days). People back then blamed his death on the fact he gave the longest inaugural address (2 hours) in a snow storm without a coat. He died of pneumonia. Now people are starting to blame overly excited doctors for his death. They tried to cure him by giving him opium and putting leeches on him. Yay Leeches!

I could go on about good ole William, but I will stop. I don't want this to become a history report. William Henry Harrison was a rather interesting character. I am not going to say that he held a lot of promise. During that time frame the president really couldn't do much. I mean honestly after the first five presidents how many can you name before Lincoln?

But then again, who am I to say he wouldn't have changed the course of the U.S. history? I can't help but think "What if?" when I think of William Henry Harrison.

And it is with that in mind that I visited his tomb. The location of his memorial is actually very strange to me. It is in North Bend, Ohio. Most of you may have visited it before. Apparently I did when I was in grade school, but I don't remember.

You can kind of see it off of Route 50. Just a tall pillar. I was thinking my visit to the place would be about 20 minutes. However, after I got there I felt compelled to stay. First off, for not being president for very long the walk up to it is rather intimidating. Case in point, the picture to the right.

Also there are a good number of placards full of information about the area. Apparently Harrison's father in-law had planned for there to be a huge city there. His dream never came to fruition. Again a huge "What if?" pops up in my mind. What if that area became larger than Cincinnati? What if instead of the surrounding area being a highway and some rather interesting houses it was a metropolis? How different would things be? I think of Butterfly Effect and A Sound of Thunder. I can't help but ask, "Would there be a flying car now had that happened?" Probably not. Still, a girl can dream.

I was truly surprised. As I was walking up I felt the same kind of calm and resonance I felt when visiting many of the memorials in D.C. The landscape is very clean, though there was some evidence of vandalism.

Inside the tomb is Harrison, his wife and one of his 10 children. Apparently one of his sons got placed inside the tomb after grave robbers kidnapped his body and took it to a local medical university.

I tried to look into the window to see if I could find his coffin. But I only did so briefly, and all I saw was a podium with a very modern binder on it. I honestly couldn't stay close to the fence long because I was afraid zombie/mummy Harrison would jump up and scare me. Had someone been with me I probably would have manned up and looked longer. Without a person there to prove I am tough to, I chickened out.

Like I said before, I was expecting this to be a quick trip. I never really felt compelled to visit there before. Harrison at this point is more used as a joke. His campaign was silly, and his military and political career is pretty full of taking advantage of Native Americans. This was suppose to be an easy first new thing to do. But still I can't help think, "What if?" I want to go back. I feel like I have to.


When you walk up to the memorial it states that it is the burial place of the first president to have resided in Ohio. He is the president of many firsts per days in office. This memorial was erected to commemorate his life and accomplishments. I feel though that it really is a memorial for his dream that could have been.

I will probably go back there soon. Not just to visit Harrison's tomb. There is also a cemetery just up the way that has a train car in it. How could I pass that up?

A new dea

No I didn't spell that wrong. Magically I have adopted the speech of my niece and nephew.
They always seem to have what they like to call new deas. New deas on how to play games. New deas on what to do, and so forth. A lot of the time I have noticed that their new deas are cooler than my ideas. So deas it is.

I have a new dea. It is simple. Try something new.

The reason I say this is I seem to have gotten caught in a rut. For one, I am not really all that happy. I could blab about the unfairness of life and the economy. However, I think that makes me sound like a teenager and in all fairness my life up to this point hasn't been that hard. I mean yeah my ideal job kind of went out the window. I went to college for no apparent reason, and the economy sucks but everyone, for the most part, in my generation is going through that.

My happiness quota seems to be going unfilled mostly because of lack of purpose. I have no idea what to do or really what I want out of life. For the longest time purpose and reasoning were tied to school. Get through school and get to the next stage. After two years of being graduated, and carrying around a paper that says "Hey, I am kind of smart," I still have no idea what that next stage is. I'd hate to tie my anchor of who I am to my job, but then again why did I define myself by going to school in the first place? This is a question that I need answered.

Secondly, I tend to do the same thing all the time. Which isn't always a bad thing. If a place is nice, why shouldn't it earn my patronage? Still I feel by constantly subscribing to this very westside of Cincinnati mentality I am missing out on a boat load of interesting opportunities. Maybe not always great experiences, but stories all the same.

Thirdly, I really don't know myself which for the longest time I've held as a reason not to get to know other people. I always thought that if I didn't know who I was why should I lug other people with me. Grant it, some really cool people stuck by my side through all these years. I think it is because of my cooking ;-) I am going to confess, I purposely close people out. That sounds mean, it is really more of a subconscious thing. Still, I do it.

So for these three reasons I've decided to have a new dea. I'm going to try at least three new things a week. The reason I am documenting it is because I want to be held accountable. I know myself well enough to know that if no one else knows that I trying to do it, I won't. Case in point the only reason I quit smoking was because Allison knew I was trying. One of the reasons I have never finished writing a novel is because I usually never tell anyone about them. So accountability is huge for me.

I've also decided that ground rules should probably be put down.

First off the definition of a New Thing is as follows: Some thing I have never done, tried, ate, scene, **insert action word** ever or within the last ten years. I am putting in the ten years rule because 16 year old me is loads different from now me and a lot can change in ten years with places. Example Six Flags Louisville. The thought of which always makes me sad.

Rule one: Only one new thing per day. This will keep me from being overly ambitious and burning out.

Rule two: The number of food related new things can never be less than or exceed the number 1.
  (If this rule didn't exist I know I would cheat and just make a new dish 3 nights a week. That defeats the purpose of this challenge.)

Rule three: One new thing every week must take me a little out of my comfort zone. This might be a little harder to gage but it is worth listing.

Rule four: Only two new things can be done Friday- Sunday.

Rule five: Talk to at least one new person per week during a new thing (waiters and service people do not count).

So I am declaring the next 52 weeks my New Dea Challenge. By this time next year I will have written about 156 stories about what I have done. I may die of embarassement, shame, or fear. At this point though., if I don't accomplish this goal I will just be disappointed. My disappoint I hope will outway the previously listed three and keep me motivated. So that will be my punishment I guess if I don't succeed. Serious disapppoint and one less story to share.

So, I guess wish me luck. I will be keeping a regular chronical of all of my new things here. If you have any thoughts on items I should try let me know. I am open for suggestions.