C Cleveland

I live in Cleveland, Ohio.

The Ohio that I know is rich with culture. We have The Cleveland Orchestra, The Cleveland Museum of Art and The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

 

The Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall

 

The Cleveland Museum of Art

 

 

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum

 

 

Cleveland has The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo, professional sports teams and world renowned health care institutions.

 

 

 

The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo and Rainforest

 

Cleveland Indians Progressive Field

 

The Cleveland Clinic

 





The homes in Cleveland suburbs range from small bungalows to stately mansions and the neighborhoods have distinct flavors.

 

Bay Village bungalow

 

1928 Shaker Heights Colonial

 

This is the Ohio that I live and breathe every day. But once a month, when I receive Our Ohio magazine, published by the Ohio Farm Bureau, I realize that this is my Ohio, too.

 

 

 

Farming has always been a major component of Ohio's economy. The fertile soil of Ohio produces soybeans, oats, corn, greenhouse and nursery products, wheat, hay, and fruit, including apples, peaches, strawberries, and grapes. More than half of Ohio's farm receipts come from dairy farming and sheep and hog raising.

 

I'm sure you're wondering why I'm a member of the Ohio Farm Bureau and, quite honestly, I probably would have never known that it even existed if it weren't for my insurance company. I carry my homeowners and auto insurance policies through Nationwide Insurance, who has partnered with The Ohio Farm Bureau to offer a discount to its members.

 

Each month, I'm fascinated to read about this industry that I knew existed but that I never really paid much attention to. The Farm Bureau is a grassroots organization that works closely with state and national policymakers on important issues like personal property rights, renewable energy, crime, education, taxes, and more. Most farms are family operated and passed down through generations. I love seeing that tradition and "roll up your sleeves" hard work still exists and I'm proud that it's virtually in my own back yard.

 

 

 

 

 

Ohio Fun Facts

 

State Flower: Scarlet Carnation

 

State Bird: Cardinal

 

State Tree: Buckeye

 

State Insect: Ladybug

 

State Animal: White Tailed Deer

 

Origin of the name: Iroquoian word meaning "great river".

 

State Nickname: The Buckeye State

 

 

Aerial view of the Niederman Family Farm corn maze.

 

 They do a different theme every year. Here are some more:

 

 

 

 

 

Color me impressed

Hey Ladies (and Guys)!

I'm not big on endorsing products unless I really love them. Or someone is paying me to do it. I can be reached at 555-xxxx.

Seriously, though, I've had gray hair since I was 13 years old so when people my age are lamenting about finding their first gray hair, I just yawn. I've been coloring my hair for years but I only started having it professionally done about 2 years ago. I was tired of having black hair color splattered all over the bathroom and I wanted to try highlights, which help to conceal the regrowth of the gray.

The last time I tried highlights was around 1980 when I sprayed Sun-In on my hair while lying on a silver mat in the backyard after slathering myself with baby oil.

 I figured it was time to leave it to the professionals.

The highlighting method my hairdresser uses on me is called Balayage, where the highlights are painted onto the hair. It lasts a super long time and you don't get an obvious line of demarcation like with foils so it grows in really well. I only need to highlight about twice a year but each month, I need to cover the gray. Even with just doing that, with the amount of hair that I have, it's pretty costly.

My hairdresser went on maternity leave and since I was too afraid to let anyone else touch my hair, I decided to try something that I read about online. It's a website called ESalon. The site was started by a former hairdresser and sells custom, salon quality haircolor for WAY less than salon prices. I took advantage of the introductory offer and paid $9.95 + shipping.

I created a profile, took a brief questionnaire and chose my haircolor. I also opted to upload a recent photo so that one of their colorists could evaluate my choice based on the photo. I'm glad I did because the colorist told me that the color I chose was too dark for my needs. I would have ended up looking like Elvira. Okay, that's not what she said, but I'm sure it's what she meant. I can read between the lines.

ESalon created my custom color and I received it in the mail about 5 days later.

 



 

It came with two sets of plastic gloves, a brush to apply the haircolor (which, by the way, is WAY easier than trying to squirt it on from a bottle), a color blocking cream (for your skin so it doesn't stain), a color removing cream (for the areas you forgot to block) and a post coloring conditioner.

 

Can I just tell you how much I love it!

 

 

 

The color is perfect, the coverage is perfect and the price is perfect. If I opt to auto-order every month, the cost is $19.95 or any subsequent individual orders for $24.95. Either choice is still a significant savings from what I normally pay to be beautiful.

 

 Go try this. Now!

 

 

Monday Morning Maddie

 

 

 

 

Nom....nom...nom.... 

What?? I told you I was hungry.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.



"My left foot"

Original Post Date, January 10, 2010


No...no...not the Daniel Day-Lewis movie. This is actually about my left foot.

I went back to the podiatrist on Friday for the results of my MRI. Curiously enough, I haven’t been experiencing as much pain in the last few weeks but it’s probably because I bought these cool new workout shoes.

I was all set to shell out at least a hundred bucks but as luck would have it, Dick’s Sporting Goods was a having a big clearance sale.

Reduced shoe + extra % off - gift card = 43 cents! That's right. Cents.

The doc said that the MRI findings show that I have a condition called Norton’s Neuroma, which I know, sounds awful and “oma” like. It turns out that a neuroma is an injury to the nerves between the toes. He went through the whole spiel about what a neuroma is and then told that he thinks it’s something else. Um...okay.

He says it’s capsulitis, which is similar but it affects a different toe. The ligaments surrounding the joint at the base of the second toe form a “capsule,” which helps the joint to function properly. Capsulitis is a condition in which these ligaments have become inflamed.

It's also known as predislocation syndrome. The brochure that the doc gave me states "the ball of the foot beneath the toe joint takes an excessive amount of weight-bearing pressure."

Shut it! I know there's an excessive amount of weight on it right now.

Capsulitis is a progressive disorder and usually worsens if left untreated so it's best to act on it now before the toe drifts over and lies on top of the big toe. I was going to post a picture but it's far too disturbing.

I'm wearing a splint and this little rubbery thing between my big toe and second toe. Of course, they always look at your shoes and tell you not to wear the "fancy kind". I think the shoes I wear now are pretty stylish and practical. Why, just the other day, a nun was complimenting me on them.

I'm supposed to stay off the foot as much as possible but that's not going to happen. I finally got into a workout routine so I can't stop now.

He did suggest having a custom orthotic made but I just can't do it. That's like resigning yourself to wearing grandma shoes for the rest of your life.

I'm too young.

What if I want to wear f@#! me pumps again?

Oh, wait. This will probably work as long as I never actually stand on them.

C Cleveland

I've always been an avid reader. When I was a little girl, I would keep my book bag in my lap all through dinner every 14 days, knowing that once we ate, my father and I would venture to my favorite home away from home, the South Euclid-Lyndhurst Library.

The South Euclid-Lyndhurst Library was one of 28 in the Cuyahoga County Library System. Lucky for me, it was also the one closest to my house because the South Euclid-Lyndhurst Library wasn't like the other libraries which were housed in the backs of schools or in fancy new buildings.

This is the South Euclid-Lyndhurst Library.

 

 

 

As you can see, it's not like your ordinary library. It's housed in the former Telling Mansion and has a total of 26 rooms and 20,000 square feet.

 

Young William Telling started selling strawberries and milk from his father's farm before he got a job at the local quarries. Money he earned there was used to buy a milk wagon to start a milk route. One thing led to another and William Telling found himself sitting at the helm of the largest dairy operation in Cleveland and surrounding northern Ohio communities.

 

Telling also became the director of Standard Trust Company, formed as a merger of smaller banks. The financial crash of 1929 caused the demise of Standard Trust and Telling's net worth of $16 million plunged to just $16,000 in less than 10 years.

 

The mansion was liquidated and sold, becoming housing for war brides, apartments and eventually, home to the South Euclid Library, which later merged with the Lyndhurst library. I spent many hours sneaking into the upstairs and basement "off limits" areas, pretending that this grand home was mine.

 

 

 

Even it's place on the National Register of Historic Places can't save it from it's current struggle. The Cuyahoga County Public Library has decided to close this branch and sell the property. I'm glad my father isn't alive to witness this, because it would break his heart.

They site that the mansion has three floors and no elevators, making it inaccessible to the handicapped but surely they could find a way to put in elevators that would cost less than the $12 million they are spending to build a new library just a stone's throw down the road. The debate has a community rallied to save its prized possession.

I belong to the Save the SE-L Mansion Library Facebook page and I commend the efforts of the organizers to try to save this gem. Each weekend, they protest in front of the library but I fear that their protests are falling on deaf ears.

 

 At least the one thing the library Board can't take away from me are my memories.

If you're so inclined, here's a history of William Telling and the library. It's about 20 minutes long but views of the library start at 5:00

mms://LIBRARYTV.cuyahogalibrary.org/TellingMansion

 

 

 

You don't look a day over 59

Please join me in congratulating that sugar laden mush of a confection called a Peep. The Peep turns 60 this week and is going stronger than ever. They're a personal favorite of mine (next to my beloved Cadbury eggs) and I'll even buy them after the season when they get a little hard. No, no sexual connotation here, I'm just saying I kinda like 'em when they get stiff. That didn't sound right, either. Moving on..

I was interested to find out that the company that makes Peeps, Just Born, has been privately held since its inception as a Brooklyn storefront 90 years ago. The store was named after the owner, Sam Born. As the candy business grew, it moved to Bethehem, PA and acquired the Peeps brand. I always thought that the Peeps/Just Born connection was a carefully plotted marketing ploy and I was amused to see that it was, instead, a happy coincidence.

When Peeps were first made, they were hand-squeezed out of pastry bags by dozens of women. Can you imagine? The business was automated in the 50's and can now pump out millions of Peeps a day. A day!

They also manufacture Hot Tamales, Mike & Ike's and Peanut Chews but they aren't cute so I don't care about them. In recent years, the family brought in a hip marketing team to expand their Peep brand line and consequently their market share.

Not sure that these are my cup of tea. Marshmallow centers surrounded by dark chocolate.

 

Chocolate mousse flavored Peeps

 

 

To capture the Valentine market. Well played, Just Born.

 

 

Rockin' the Peeps hat

 

 

 

So to celebrate the Peeps anniversary, I stopped at the drugstore on the way home to buy some. I always find it hard to keep newly discovered knowledge to myself, so when I got to the register, I announced to the cashier that it was the Peeps anniversary. She humored me and sounded excited so as I was swiping my credit card, I turned and smiled at the man behind me who was glaring at me and my excitement over Peeps.

 

Never one to miss an opportunity, I picked up a package, held it up toward him and said, "Peep! Peep!"

 

He had a look on his face like,  If I had a knife right now, I would slit your throat.

 

I think someone needs a Peep. "Peep! Peep!"

 





I did it. Again.

If you've been following me for a while you know there's a whole list of things that I say "I will NEVER do again." They include:

• Joining a dating site
• Having a garage sale
• Adopting another dog
• Sleeping with an ex
• Eating the entire ________ (fill in the blank: cake, half gallon of ice cream, pound of M&M's)
• Joining a gym

And, if you know me, you know that inevitably once a year,  I will...

• Join a dating site
• Have a garage sale
• Adopt another dog
• Sleep with an ex
• Eat the entire_______(fill in the blank: cake, half gallon of ice cream, pound of M&M's)
• Join a gym

Which one did I do THIS time??

I joined a gym.

Again.

Mostly because I've been eating the entire_______ but I would like to sleep with an ex but I'm too embarassed by how fat I am.

The gym is called Planet Fitness and it's located at the local mall in a former Barnes & Noble space. They had a truck stationed in the parking lot for months with a banner on it touting their "$10/month, no commitment" membership. It was so bizarre to walk through the mall, eating an ice cream cone while people were running on treadmills in a storefront.

My curiosity got the best of me and one day I wandered in for a tour. Twenty-something Jay piggy- backed me on a tour of the facilities with a middle aged woman who said nothing the entire time while I asked questions about everything from the machines to the locker rooms.

They have two levels of membership: the Basic which is $10/month and only gives you access to the gym and the "Black Card" membership which is $20/month. The Black Card membership gives you access to the gym along with the tanning beds, massage beds and chairs, red light therapy and unlimited guest privileges. So I could bring one of you with me every time I worked out!

At the end of the tour, they close with "So that's it." No pressure to close the sale or sign away your first born. The woman on the tour with me had to "Talk to her husband. God forbid she join a no contract, $10/month gym that she could quit at any time. I decided to join with the Basic membership to start but after a month I was intrigued by what I had read about the red light therapy and decided to upgrade.

NASA developed LED lights to cultivate plant growth in space and when in use, stumbled upon the fact that the astronauts were experiencing the same cell rejuvenation with the red light therapy as the plants. Since then, red light therapy has taken the anti-aging and skin care markets by storm. It's non-invasive unlike other like surgical treatments and red light therapy users experience virtually no side effects.

Red light therapy, also known as photo rejuvenation, is characterized by infrared light which has a stronger wavelengh than other types of light. This enables it to penetrate more deeply into the skin to improve not only the appearance of the skin but the structure as well. And the best part is that the red light therapy doesn't emit any UV light.

As the red light passes deep into the the layers of the skin, it stimulates the growth of collagen and elastin. Yep, the stuff that plumps us up and makes us look younger.

Salons are charging upwards of $100 for a package of sessions but I get it for FREE with my membership.

I feel younger and plumper already!

Monday Morning Dino

 

Cat trees

 

 

 

 

They're not just for cats anymore.

Secondhand Sunday

Sundays are my Secondhand day. I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I re-post a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.



"What's in a name?"

Original Post Date, April 19, 2009




My given name is Christine Jean. You can't help but say it with a little twaaang. You have to remember it was 1966 and right around the Petticoat Junction era so lots of us have middle names like Jean and Jo.

Anyone with a name that can be shortened into a nickname knows that there are usually lots of variations given to you by friends and family.

I grew up being called Chrissy by my friends.

My sister called me Kickie because I had a propensity to kick people as a child. Really hard.

My grandfather called me Christy, in his broken English accent.

My father called me Kissy and my mother affectionately called me, you Little Bitch.

When I got my first job at 15, I decided it was time to use my grown up name of Christine, since Chrissy sounded too babyish to be entering the workforce. I worked at Woolworth's and I proudly bore my 'Christine' name tag on my mint green smock. I'm certain that my decision to forego my childhood nickname was the reason why Old Lady Evelyn, the crotchety keeper of the toy, pets and notions departments, chose me to tend to her fiefdom when she was away.

Most of my friends who have met me past the age of 25, call me Christine. Anyone who has known me since school or before or has met me through that group of friends calls me Chrissy.

I remember when I was 19, I worked with a girl whose mother's name was Susie and I thought to myself, What grown woman calls themselves by such a silly name? Well, I guess I do now.

I've had to endure the Chrissy Snow references from Three's Company. Is your real name Christmas? Nope.

Then, in 1983, the movie Christine came out about a possessed car named Christine. Christine? You mean like the car? Good one. Haven't heard that before.

I'm always surprised and annoyed when I meet people as Christine and they assume a nickname for me. Nice meeting you, Chris. You'll notice no one calls me Chris and there's a reason for that.

I had a 6th grade teacher named Mr. Kidd who was 6'4, skinny as a rail and ignorant as could be. Our classroom was at the rear of a hallway of about 8 rooms and the school office was at the opposite end. Back then, there weren't strategically placed copiers outside of classrooms for convenient mid-day copying. There was one mimeograph machine that the school secretary used to crank out duplicates in blue ink.

One spring morning, Mr. Dick, oops, I mean Mr. Kidd, needed someone to go to the office and have some copies made. I was 5'9 and chubby and tried to remain inconspicuous as my tiny people pleasing classmates raised their hands to volunteer. I was sure he was going to pick pretty petite Jennifer when I heard him say, Thank you for volunteering, Jennifer, but why don't we let Chris go? She needs the exercise.

To this day, I hear those words in my head every time someone makes the mistake of calling me Chris.

My professional name was going to be Blair Brennan when I became a supermodel but that didn't really pan out. My friend Debbie and I used to make up names and professions when we were in our early 20's and out at a bar. They were usually classy sounding like Bambi or Amber but then we never remembered them when someone would call out our names later in the night.

"Is he talking to you?"

"No, aren't you Bambi?"

"No, I'm Mitzy."

"Mitzy? Weren't you Mitzy last week?"

For now, I guess I'm just wannabe stripper chick, Chrissy Starr.

Did someone suck the air out of the room?

 

 

I think I'm having a midlife crisis. I'm going to be 47 in July and though my life isn't awful, I'm not really where I want to be. It reminds me of this classic Far Side cartoon.  

 

I have the pearls, wine (vodka, actually) and a warm, dry house but I still feel like a Mrs. Wendell.

 

I'm just not content.

 

My job is sucking the life out of me and that's no secret. I work for a large healthcare institution and I manage the support staff for one of the specialty institutes. Twenty seven grown women who never learned to play nice in the sandbox when they were kids and have no desire to learn now. Last week, I had an employee come into my office to complain about her co-worker telling her that she was "lazy and doesn't do anything."

 

I called the other employee into my office and said, "Anne said that you told her she was lazy and doesn't do anything."

 

Her response? "I never said that! I told her she was a stupid bitch."

 

I think to myself,  This is my life? Being the referee in juvenile disputes between grown adults?

 

I'm finding it harder and harder to diplomatically "coach" people. I should say, "I know you're feeling frustrated but how do you think you can approach this the next time?" Instead, I hear myself saying, "What the hell is wrong with you??"

 

I jokingly offer my job to everyone within earshot only to be told, "I would never do your job. How are you not an alcoholic?"

 

If I could drink at work, I probably would be but the best (worst) I can do is eat. Every time something frustrates me, I find myself wanting to shove food in my mouth. I used to eat like a thin person, only when I was hungry and in moderation. Now I just shove things down my gullet.

 

I told you guys a while back about this website that I started called My Weight Makeover. I started it because of my mild obsession with seeing how people lost weight and got in shape. It's expanded to a place where I can share the information that I've gathered regarding dieting, nutrition and exercise. I did a complete redesign in the last month and I'm still in the process of reformatting all the pages to the new layout. Next step is figuring out the whole "social media thing" to market it. Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Pinterest. I'll have to hire a 15 year old to guide me. 

 

THIS is what I want to do with my life. I want to sit in front of my computer and write about what interests me and then I want to come here and spew my stream of consciousness to anyone who cares to take the time to listen.

 

Oh. And I want to make a living doing it.

 

Is that too much to ask?