Perhaps it’s because I’m not a native of St. Louis, but whenever I’m on the grounds of the Gateway Arch Monument, I have the urge to act like a tourist and take a picture. Especially when it’s gleaming on a bright, sunny day, it makes me proud of my adopted city. These were taken a few years ago, from the approximate spot where my husband proposed.
Not only does it give me an “ooh shiny!” kind of distraction, but it is also, indeed a giant, shiny, hunk of steel.
For yet another day (I’ve forgot how many so far) the temperature here in my part of the Midwest U.S. will be near 100 degrees. This is just one reason why I am so thrilled to be heading out on vacation in a few days. Mr. Maid and I are packing up to spend a week in Maine where the high temperatures promise to be in the low 70s. Sounds like absolute heaven!
Our plan isn’t complicated: explore the coast between Portland and Bar Harbor, Maine, hike in Acadia National Park, sample local beer and wine, and eat our weight in lobster.
As a lifelong resident of Illinois, it will be a particular treat to spend time by the ocean. The sea is so foreign to a landlubber like me. I am jealous of those who live near it and wonder if they take it for granted.
The bodies of water that I grew up with were limited to lakes and backyard pools.
The pools in our middle-class neighborhood were not snazzy “c-ment ponds” like on The Beverly Hillbillies, but the above Continue reading →
When I relocated from Chicago to an Illinois suburb of your fine city 16 years ago, I found something that was so foreign, so disturbing, that I can no longer stay silent. I fear you have all been brainwashed. I’m not sure who is responsible, and I don’t know that there is any hope to reverse it. I’m talking about what you have been told is “pizza.” Or, more specifically, what you refer to as the “cheese” on this “pizza.” People of St. Louis, your pizza makes me sad. Continue reading →