News Trend Protect Our Planet With Bar Soap|Actual

"What are you giving up for Lent?"

That's a common question in these forty days before Easter. And when I ask, nine times out of ten, the answer is chocolate, beer, or social media.

But what if we look at Lent as an opportunity not to just temporarily give up a bad habit but to start a good habit - a habit that makes a difference to people, to the world, to God.

This year for Lent, my goal is to protect our planet. I'm looking for ways to lessen my impact on our mother earth and bring me joy at the same time.

Here is the story of my progress.

* * * * *

Here's a true confession.

I've always been a fan of bar soap.

^ In my powder room, I keep several options of LUSH on hand. The green is an iteration of what is now called Sea Vegetable, and the gold is my fav LUSH bar soap of all time, Sexy Peel

I think, for a time, that made me out of vogue. Somewhere along the line, maybe in the eighties, body washes and facial cleansers became the new normal. And bar soaps, like my grandmother's fragrant Jergen's beauty bar or Grandpa's Irish Spring, slipped into distant memory.

^ My tried-and-true skin care favorite, Dove Sensitive Skin beauty bars have been front and center in my shower for decades. Though I love to dabble in other cleansers, like the bottleGlossier Milky Jelly to the left, I will always come back to Dove.

Over the decades, I have certainly dabbled in a variety of cleansing products. But nothing says fresh and clean to me like a pure white oval slab of Dove.  I've used the sensitive skin formula not only on my own relatively dry and sensitive skin, but also on my daughters from the very day they were born. Now all grown up and conducting plenty of skin care experiments of their own, they still use Dove.

I even convinced my husband to let go of his long-favored deodorant bars, which leave a nasty scum on my shower walls, and embrace the Dove. He's never looked back.

^ Another beautiful bar of handmade soap alongside my sink upstairs.

LUSH no longer makes this exact product but if I were trying to replicate the smooth,

 sensuous shape and layers of color, I would try this one.

And while Dove feels pure and safe and serene, I feed my wild side for bar soap with artisan soaps from LUSH. I know. They are fairly expensive. But they make a perfect gift, and my daughters keep me supplied in LUSH-ious soaps of all kinds of fabulous colors and scents.

LUSH soaps come wrapped in paper; Dove bars arrive in cardboard boxes. Sometimes multiple units of Dove boxes are held together in a wrapping of clear plastic, but they are still a far more environmentally sound option that the plastic pump bottles and tubs of other face and body cleansers.

In this post-recycling world, where plastic has become a real threat to our planet, choosing relatively plastic-free bar soap is an easy and beautiful choice to make.

* * * * *

Read on about my efforts to help protect our planet

Reusable Shopping Bags

Biodegradable Toothbrushes

Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging

Bar Soap

Glass Food Storage

Stainless Steel Straws

Supporting Innovation

News Trend Chicago: Italian Village|Actual

What started out asa week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

* * * * *

When the Major League Baseball playoffs began on October 4, 2018, I was introduced to a commercial that played dozens of times over the next few weeks. I can't even tell you what product it was attempting to sell, but the music hit me deep in my soul.

When a moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine

That's amore

Now, I am not particularly fond of that old Dean Martin ditty. It kind of annoys me, to be honest.

But every single time I heard those lyrics, I was transported back to the Italian Village restaurant in Chicago.

* * * * *

Way back in the day, when I lived the young professional life in Chicago, I often took swanky lunches. Sometimes we'd go as a client service team, either paying our own way or hoping our high-paid partner would pick up the bill. But more often than not, these were recruit lunches. During the late fall and on through winter, a steady stream of college applicants would flow through our offices, getting a first-hand look at the wonderful world of public accounting. One of the highlights of the day for the recruit was to relax at lunch with a couple of us who were just a few years into our careers, and ask us all the questions that they were not comfortable asking of the higher ups.

Just a half block up Monroe Street from our offices, west of Dearborn, Italian Village was one of my favorite swanky lunch destinations. The service was fast, the food was good. But the decor. The decor was just plain magic and I spent many a meal at this restaurant staring in wonderment around the room.

As the name not so subtly suggests, the dining room was fashioned as an Italian village. But here's the twist; the main part of the floor was set up as though it was the courtyard of an Italian village. Around the perimeter of the room were a series of smaller rooms, with just a table or two inside, that were decorated to look like buildings and balconies around the courtyard. Twinkle lights and street lamps lit up the dark room and its deep blue ceiling; artificial greenery hung here and there, and the effect was purely enchanting.

* * * * *

As I listened to that commercial play over and over again, night after night of the baseball playoffs, I thought about that fantastical restaurant. I hadn't been there for over thirty years. And I wondered, over and over again, when will I ever get a chance to go back to Italian Village?

Little did I know how soon my dream would come true.

On October 25, the third night of the 2018 World Series, I ate dinner at Italian Village

^ On many a cold winter morning as I hiked from the train station to my office, this sign brought me great joy as an indication that I had almost finished my trek and was about to finally get warm again.  And on many a hot summer morning, I was just as excited to get to the air conditioning.

[source]

^ The interior was exactly, perfectly, precisely the same. I was overjoyed.

^I went with the eggplant parmigiana which was always one of my favorites and as far as I can remember, it tasted exactly the same. My daughter's mushroom risotto was also delicious, though we could barely eat even half of these massive portions.

^ This is me with all my Italian Village dreams come true. Everything was perfect.

Just as I'd remembered.

Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling

And you'll sing "Vita belladanquot;

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay

Like a gay tarantella

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Chicago: Wells Street Bridge|Actual

What started out asa week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

Fueled by doughnuts and ready to take on a busy day of exploring, my daughter and I headed back toward the Loop. We paused, as sightseers and photography enthusiasts often do, on the Franklin Street Bridge to look east.

Perfectly framed by the Chicogo River and two long rows of towers, the double decker bridge charms the eye with a delightful look back into history. The Wells Street Bridge was built in 1922 and now, almost a hundred years later, still dutifully carries a never-ending stream of car traffic on its lower deck, and elevated trains up top.

We stood in the middle of the bridge, whipped by autumn winds, and drank in the scene. As the trains clickety-clacked back and forth over the water, we lifted our various cameras and snapped breathlessly away, hoping against hope that we could somehow capture the magic of this particular moment in time.

A yellow water taxi zoomed downstream. At first, I found the intrusion irritating, a wrinkle in time, disturbing the century-old vibe I was trying to capture. Then I broadened my gaze and laughed at my self. Surely the water taxi couldn't do anything worse than the hulking skyscrapers to remind me of the twenty-first century.

A man stood on the bridge near us, to our right. He smiled at us as he adjusted his tripod, checked his settings and waited for the next L train to shuffle by. My daughter and I traded her DSLR back and forth, pulled Instax cameras out of one pocket as we pushed our cell phones into another, and exchanged small talk with him. Kindred spirits.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, our fingers had iced over and surely we had captured at least a few decent shots out of the dozens we had taken. So we stowed our gear, tucked our hands deep into our pockets, and walked on.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

Italian Village

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Chicago: Wabash Arts Corridor|Actual

What started out asa week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

* * * * *

After a surprisingly quick deliberation at lunch, my daughter and I agreed on a plan for our one and only afternoon in Chicago. We crossed a few quick blocks south of the Loop and turned onto Wabash Avenue. And there an outrageous journey began to unfold.

This is the Wabash Arts Corridor. Murals fill the sides of buildings in what was just a few years ago a rundown end of town but now pulses with art and culture. We loaded a map on our phones to help locate the artworks, but we quickly realized this was unnecessary. To find the next mind-blowing exhibit, all we had to do was look. The neighborhood is literally exploding with street art.

My daughter and I spent the afternoon staring in awe at several dozen extravagant murals, admiring not only the artworks themselves but the way that the artists used the shapes and colors of the buildings themselves to maximize the impact of their work.

We took hundreds of pictures, that's for sure. These are some of my very favorites.

^These two murals sat next to each other above a parking lot, the white symbols on the left and the bubble-blowing moose on the right. At first glance, they seem quite different - one all monochromatic symbols and the other a portrait of whimsical wildlife. But as I look on and on, the pattern of the grey linear fencing behind the moose starts to vibe with the rows of abstracted characters, and the big pink bubble repeats itself over and over in the white round shapes. Far from opposites, these two murals echo each other's strengths and I find them a delightful pairing.

^ From where I stand to take the moose's photo, I turn ninety degrees right to see the L rattling by and another mural peeping through under the tracks. The rumbling immediacy of city life is a constant presence in this outdoor museum.

^ Down a side street, I pop into an alley and find this. The black outlines of the art echo in the rigid structure of the brick wall and again in the vent up above. But the wild looping lines of the tribal image projects a carefree energy that creates quite a buzz in this tiny space.

^ Are they jalapeno peppers, high-heeled shoes, or simply giant red amoebas splashed across this parking structure? I don't know but when offset by the cool blues of the mosaic tower behind them, I am intrigued.

^ The gleaming native face and glossy headless stallion would be gorgeous in any space. But captured between the strip of old brick above and the worn grass below, these images fill me with a  poignant sense of lost freedom.

^ Icy blue tones and weird abstracted shapes. Are there letters in there? Maybe a hidden message? I don't know because I am totally distracted by the grids in the windows above the mural and the fire escapes to the right. They add a geometric stability to the wild abstraction, and I am totally digging the balance.

^ The lower section of the wall captures a painting that weirdly reminds me of old-school Soviet communist propaganda, and the top implies classic capitalism still going strong. Though I'm not sure the comparison is intended, I like how these two pieces speak to one together.

^ Well. The second I laid eyes on this one, I channeled Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam hard core. As seen on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, God's hand is shown in the moment of human creation, and the blasting angles and dazzling colors here make it pretty clear to me that this piece is capturing the same instant. In this scene, my daughter plays the role of Adam.

^ The brilliant colors of the hand artwork wrap around the building: I follow along to the end of painting, turn around, and this is what I see. I do not exaggerate when I say the neighborhood is bursting with art.

^ Mystical and magical mountains set the backdrop for two animals that look like they just stepped off the forests of Pandora. Surrounded by stardust, they nuzzle noses and glow with unearthly light. Watching them, I feel endless groovy vibes and I can only imagine that the people who live in this apartment building must have very sweet dreams.

^ There's some serious sweet talk pouring out of this receiver, and my mind is filled with memories of my teenage talk time on our old black phone that looked just like this one.

^ Small, intricately painted tiles piece together to make a peacock. And while at first, I find the scale of this piece to be a big let down from the enormous murals I've seen on most other buildings, I come to appreciate the restraint of this artist and intimacy of this piece. I also like the green paint on the boarded window, and somehow my brain incorporates that into the image.

* * * * *

These photos capture roughly half the murals I saw in the Wabash Arts Corridor. Though all have merit, they are my favorites.

But if you push me to pick my single most favorite of all, I have to choose the moose.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Protect Our Planet With Glass Food Storage|Actual

"What are you giving up for Lent?"

That's a common question in these forty days before Easter. And when I ask, nine times out of ten, the answer is chocolate, beer, or social media.

But what if we look at Lent as an opportunity not to just temporarily give up a bad habit but to start a good habit - a habit that makes a difference to people, to the world, to God.

This year for Lent, my goal is to protect our planet. I'm looking for ways to lessen my impact on our mother earth and bring me joy at the same time.

Here is the story of my progress.

* * * * *

Here's a common sight at my house: the fridge is stocked with (clockwise starting at the left end of the top shelf)

water,milk and orange juice

a basket full of apples

eggs, jam, and milk in a frothing pitcher

a head of boston lettuce and a dish towel full of herbs

cheese

and my favorite

an assortment of leftovers.

Eggplant curry and lots of rice.

A turkey tomato sauce (originally served over cauliflower gnocchi but that was quickly devoured.)

Whole wheat pizza dough.

For my money, home cooking only gets better with age and I am only too happy to plan my breakfast and lunch sajian around leftovers from dinner. Back in the old days, my daughters used to help me polish off these delicious tidbits but now, for the most part, they are mine, all mine.

But here's whats new.

Glass storage containers.

Gone are the plastic Glad food storage containers I used by the dozens, and even the old school Rubbermaid from back in the twentieth century.

Whether they were causing me harm or not, I let them all go and ushered in a new era with a set of glass storage containers.

I love them...

Now if we could only find an alternative to the plastic lids.

Shop this Pyrex 18-piece set here.

* * * * *

Read on about my efforts to help protect our planet

Reusable Shopping Bags

Biodegradable Toothbrushes

Eliminating Plastic Food Packaging

Bar Soap

Glass Food Storage

Stainless Steel Straws

Supporting Innovation

News Trend Chicago: Flamingo Again|Actual

What started out harapan week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

* * * * *

What had started as a day full of possibilities had become, by midday, a morning of super-charged sightseeing and powerful memory generation. With most of our one and only full day in Chicago still before us, my daughter and I decided to cool down with a meandering walk out to Michigan Avenue for lunch and a chance to rest and consider the options for our afternoon.

But look who we ran into along the way.

^ Yep. Another blast of adrenaline shot through me as we turned the corner and met with my electric friend. The lure of the orange foliage drew us closer, and involuntarily, my hand found my camera and I was off to the races again.

^ I can't resist Flamingo

^ As we walked in, under and around the giant bird, we came across the artist's signature, welded into the form:

Alexander Caldwell. 1973

Our quiet interlude was over. Suddenly we were fiercely hungry, and after sating our desire for photographs, we rushed off for lunch.

^ Over our Shake Shack burgers, we laid in our plans for the afternoon.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Chicago: Glossier Pop-Up|Actual

What started out asa week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

* * * * *

So it's Friday night, and we are sitting in our hotel room, full of German food and feeling immensely satisfied with our quick trip to Chicago. We are scheduled to leave in the morning, but manage to squeeze in a last-minute visit with my niece, my daughter's cousin, who has dropped by from her home in a Chicago neighborhood not far from the Loop.

As the three of us are chatting, my daughter is also messaging with my third-born, my daughter's younger sister, who lives in Seoul, South Korea.

"Oh my gosh!!" my second-born suddenly explodes. "I'm so annoyed!"

My niece and I stare at her, utterly perplexed.

"The Glossier pop-up!" my daughter carried on. "There was a Glossier pop-up store in Chicago all summer and I really wanted to go but I thought it was already closed. But Jane just told me it's still open and if I had known, it would have been my top priority to go there. But now we have to leave in the morning so it's too late. We can't go!"

Ha. These are the moments I absolutely live for. Plans and schedules are great but in my world, they are made to be broken. I love nothing more than a spontaneous change of plans.

A bit of Googling later, we find the address of the store and my niece confirms that it is a mere fifteen-minute drive from our hotel. Quite close to her apartment too, so she decides to join us on our adventure.

* * * * *

[Glossier, if you don't know, is a skin care and beauty brand that focuses on casual, uncomplicated products for effortless beauty and glowing skin.

Though Glossier started as a online brand, they now hold down permanent stores in New York and LA, and experiment with pop-up stores around the US and Canada. ]

* * * * *

And so, on our last morning in Chicago, my daughter and I check out of our hotel, grab a quick breakfast, and head off to the Glossier pop-up store. After sorting out a major GPS snafu and dealing with a dearth of parking places, this is what we found.

^ The Glossier pop-up is beautiful eye candy and Insta-worthy gorgeousness in every direction. The architectural details make me swoon and I feel as if I have stepped into a cosmetics fairyland. Which is exactly what a good pop-up is intended to do.

^ The merchandising is similarly on trend. Products are styled to great effect, and only one of each item is out on the floor. When shoppers are ready to buy, we track down a sales associate with an iPad who takes our order and manages our payment while another employee in back pulls our products and presents them to us in a trademark pink bubble wrap pouch. Glossier employs Apple's retail contoh to great effect, with a generous dose of their own whimsy and style.

^Speaking of whimsy and style, every inch of the store bursts with personality. I quickly pick out a few products to purchase and then spend my time admiring every precious lebih jelasnya of this space while my daughter and niece shop on.

^ I make my selections from the skin care side of the business - Milky Jelly Cleanser and Body Hero Daily Perfecting Cream. But the tiny tubs and tubes of skin, cheek, and lip color fascinate me and I find myself picking up each one, turning it over in my hands, and then sliding it back into its perfect little white display space.

^ Empty frames painted white.

Murals of soft pink foamy bubbles.

Random black and white photographs.

Every corner holds another surprise.

^ As it turns out, we are visiting on the very last day of the pop-up's run. The crowds are insane; even after waiting in line outside the store for a half-hour, the room is packed and the energy is buzzing.

* * * * *

We spend at least an hour wandering around this beautiful space. Our original plan to leave Chicago by noon and get to a family birthday party in Cleveland later that day goes flying out the window. But everything works out in the end, and our visit to the Glossier pop-up is a perfect capper to our impromptu trip to Chicago.

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

* * * * *

And then Glossier opened a pop-up in Seattle! Read all about it:

Birthday Adventures

News Trend Chicago: The Berghoff|Actual

What started out harapan week's visit to my second-born in Columbus, Ohio,

somehow turned into a road trip to Chicago.

Not only did we squeeze an amazing amount of sightseeing into forty-eight hours,

but we stayed a mere block away from my former office and retraced

the streets and sights of my life in Chicago

all those many years ago.

* * * * *

Located on Adams between Dearborn and State. Just look for the neon lights.

On the second night of our stay, I paid a long overdue visit to another favorite swanky restaurant from my ancient history in Chicago: The Berghoff.

Now, to be fair, 'swanky' might be a relative term. The Berghoff is not particularly luxurious or expensive by restaurant standards, but as a young professional trying to make ends meet on my own in the big city, this rollicking German hofbrauhaus was a stretch for my pay grade.

Compared to the burger joints and simple bistros that I frequented for most workday lunches, the Berghoff was something special. From the moment I stepped through the front doors to the stained glass windows, I felt transported from my urban daily grind to an altogether different place and time.

German food and drink were always the order of the day at the Berghoff. Stroganoff and schnitzel, sausages and strudel, the fare was authentically no-nonsense.

Also no-nonsense to the point of rude was the wait staff. Using an antiquated system where the waiters purchased the customers' food from the kitchen and then sold it to the patrons on their own behalf, the service culture was abrupt and cold.

But the wood-paneled dining room and delicious fare more than made up for the abrasive servers, and I spent many a happy lunch hour chatting with a girlfriend over steak and cantaloupe salads, or squeezed into a long row of tables with our audit team, keeping the colleagues entertained with a stream of never-ending patter. Perhaps my most cherished Berghoff memory of all was the dinner plates, which were decorated with the restaurant's name.

So while I was excited, all these years later, to revisit the Berghoff, I held my breath to learn just how much the restaurant had changed.

Usually I visited the Berghoff for lunch when natural light shone in through huge windows and lit up the room with a different kind of glow.

Much to my delight, the dining room looked exactly the same. Gleaming wood reflected chandeliers' light, sturdy wooden tables filled the room with just the right balance of space and communal togetherness.

Even better, the waiters were nice! I chatted with mine, told him of the old days when I was a little bit afraid of the servers' brusque behavior, and he smiled to hear my story. "Not much has changed around here in the last thirty years," he explained, "but the wait staff  is definitely different."

He was right. Every waiter in the room was absolutely charming and our dinner was served with prompt and courteous attention.

And best of all, the plates were exactly the same.

Sauerbraten

* * * * *

Read more stories about my long overdue reunion with the city with big shoulders:

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

News Trend Bookcase Bonanza|Actual

So here's the way my week-long visit with my second-born was supposed to play out:

Adventures around Columbus all week long.

Run up to Cleveland on Saturday for my two-year-old great-niece's afternoon birthday party

Spend the night in Cleveland, drive back on Sunday morning.

Fly home to Seattle Monday night.

Here is what actually happened:

Adventures around for a day and a half

Spontaneous road trip to Chicago

Overstayed our Windy City visit

Drove to Cleveland way late.

Missed the birthday party

Showed up at my sis- and bro-in-law's house for a fantastic after party.

Left their house around midnight for the two-hour drive back to Columbus.

Spent Sunday recovering.

Flew home to Seattle Monday night.

Oh, And along the way, I scored a fabulous mid century bookcase.

Stylish and sweet, the new bookcase lives at my daughter's home.

During the waning years of my mother-in-law's sweet life, she moved from her grand family home to an apartment to a small assisted-living space. With each change of address came another round of downsizing, and my husband's younger sister and her patient husband gathered all of these beloved belongings into their basement.

Over the years, the siblings have gone over this tremendous stash time and time again, selecting favorite pieces, carting some off to the east coast and others to our home on the west. But no matter how many car- and truck- and shipping-pod-loads disappear, there always seem to be new gems uncovered, too precious to be tossed.

During our Saturday evening visit, my sister-in-law invited me to take yet another tour of the basement and see if there was anything I'd like to claim. As I headed toward the familiar stairs, she called after me, "Hey, there's a nice bookcase down there. Check it out."

For all my trips to the basement over the years, I hadn't seen this particular bookcase before. And my sis-in-law was right - this baby was solid birch construction with clean mid century lines, in immaculate condition.

And most tantalizing of all, we had already taken the matching dresser - my eldest daughter uses it in her apartment. I'm not a fan of matchy-matchy furniture but I do love to keep furniture siblings together.

Full of art books, I can only assume it is loving its new lease on life.

No question about it; I loved the bookcase.

But ugh. Over the years, we had already shipped two moving pods of belongings across the United States. My husband would surely curl up and die if I proposed moving something more.

Suddenly my brain threw off a few tiny sparks of inspiration.

My daughter lives just two hours away! If only I could get the bookcase to her place, we could figure the rest out later.

But how was I to transport this beauty to Columbus?

I laughed at myself. My rental car was parked in the driveway, literally ready and waiting to do my bookcase bidding.

Five minutes later, my brother-in-law and nephew had wrestled the bookcase into my car. The sturdy frame grazed the interior on both sides, the legs just cleared the ceiling. It was a perfect fit.

In other words, this bookcase and I were a match made in heaven.

My daughter's dining table decked out with fall flair.

We rolled into my daughter's apartment in the wee hours of the night.

The bookcase spent the night in the car.

Earlier in the week, we had searched high and low for the perfect white pumpkins. Things had fallen into place in that endeavor too.

The next morning, we lugged it up the stairs to my daughter's bedroom, where it sits to this very day.

John Glenn International Airport at night. Bye, Columbus!

And shortly thereafter, I said goodbye to my daughter and her new bookcase, and flew away home.

* * * * *

I spent an eventful week in Columbus with my second-born - here are all the details:

Suitcase Signals

Fox In The Snow

Picking Pumpkins

The Bean

The Gorilla And The Flamingo

Doughnut Vault

Wells Street Bridge

The Rookery

Flamingo Again

Wabash Arts Corridor

The Berghoff

Glossier Pop-Up

Bookcase Bonanza

News Trend Three Landmarks And A Pass On The Oregon Trail|Actual

In June of 2017, my husband and I flew to Ohio, loaded up a U-Haul van full of

family treasures, and drove it 2500 miles back across the country.

These are our adventures along the way.

* * * * *

As we rolled ever west, we followed U.S. Highway 20 across the border into Wyoming.

Through Guernsey where we spent the night.

Through Casper where we picked up Highway 220.

And thus we met up with the iconic Oregon Trail and followed that route up into the mountains to the Continental Divide.

The kisi-kisi as it once was - a rut of worn soil and rock, ranging in width from a passage as narrow as a wagon to almost a mile wide - weaves back and forth across today's two-lane highway as both work their way toward the defining barrier between east and west, South Pass.

For the terkini traveler, finding the route is as easy as reading the signs along the way, or clicking around on our phones. In desperate times, we can always rely on an old-school paper map.

But imagine you are a weary traveler in the 1840s or 1850s, walking your way across the wilderness. You're about to face the defining ridge on the continent - the place where waters part to run either to the east or the west - and you would certainly like to face that arduous challenge at the most accessible spot. South Pass, they say, is the easiest place to cross and so to find it, you must rely on three key landmarks:

Independence Rock

This big ol' mound of granite lies smack dab along the Oregon Trail, just off the Sweetwater River, and serves a welcome sight for you and the travelers of that day. Those who reach the rock by Independence Day - July 4 - consider themselves on pace with the journey, and as you roll in to its shadow, you take this as a harbinger that you will be out of the mountains before the first snows fall in autumn.

So like other emigrants before you, when you arrive here, after seeing the rock from afar for many miles. You celebrate. Many before you have carved their names in the rock, and like many more you take advantage of the rock's gentle slope and firm footholds to scramble up and take in the views

^ Today, Independence Rock is just as easy to find and explore. Broad walkways lead in from the parking lot, and warning signs for rattlesnakes remind me of just how accustomed we are to having dangers mapped out ahead of us.

^ The walkways continue around the base of the granite behemoth, and we followed them, appreciating its considerable girth and height.

^ An unintended shot captures my outfit of the day, sandals of the summer, and the pink pom-poms on my favorite summer purse. I love a happy accident.

^ It's easy to appreciate how the emigrants were tempted to scale the mighty monolith. I watched a dad with three young boys test their mettle against the rock and was delighted to see how they scrambled up like a herd of nimble goats.

^ In some places, visitors today are allowed to climb but fences protect areas of the rock where old signatures still remain. Fences or not, my husband does not look particularly interested in a vertical adventure, and so we move along.

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Devil's Gate

Following the Sweetwater upstream, your eyes strain for the second key landmark along the Oregon Trail. Just five miles up ahead,  Devil's Gate is a natural rock formation, a gorge along the Sweetwater where the currents have worn a distinctive slot in the surrounding granite ridge. Although the trail does not pass directly through Devil's Gate - which would have been a wet, wild ride - you take confidence that you are still on course to South Pass.

^ We made several stops along the quiet highway to find just the right angle for capturing the steep sides of Devil's Gate. The countryside was quiet and lush, the gap was an arresting sight in the wilderness, and other than the fence in the foreground, this scene must look just as it did when the emigrants spied it almost two hundred years ago.

^ As I framed my photos of Devil's gate by looking to the right, I then glanced toward my left and saw this marker: Oregon California Trails. This dry, desiccated patch of ground lay under the wagon wheels and weary feet of the 19th century travelers. I imagined their joy as they realize their climb to the rooftop of the continent is almost done, and I hopped in the car to follow on.

Split Rock

With Independence Rock and Devil's Gate in your dust, you spy one last landmark that lights the way to South Pass. Split Rock is a mountain with a deep V-shaped cleft in its peak, visible for miles around. You gaze at the Sweetwater River that runs along the kisi-kisi as both sweep around the mountain's base, and you take one last deep breath as you prepare to climb to South Pass

^ I didn't get a chance to capture Split Rock, but here's a shot of pioneer photographer Henry William Jackson camping on the banks of the Sweetwater at the base of the mountain with members of a survey team in 1870.

Source

South Pass

You've been preparing for this summit, the most extraordinary mountain crossing you will make on the Trail, since the day you set off. The three landmarks have shown you the way, and now you follow surprisingly gentle green meadows up toward the sky. Sure, the hike is strenuous but compared to the snow-covered rocky peaks around you, this scenery is absolutely tame.

^ I've traveled through South Pass quite a few times and yet, every time I'm struck again at the incredible cleverness of the scouts who found this pastoral route. It reminds me of the scene at the beginning of The Sound Of Music where Fraulein Maria is twirling in a flower-strewn meadow in the mountains. This looks like a place for a picnic, not a rigorous mountain crossing.

^ But this is it. The continental divide that the emigrants found by following the landmarks across the miles. I thought of them as I stopped here for a picnic, and hope that they enjoyed their time here too. I hope they felt a special joy and a huge relief as they met this major milestone on their journey across the continent.

So I raise my salami and cheese sandwich to you, Oregon Trail travelers, and celebrate your amazing accomplishments.

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Here are all of our adventures from this summer road trip across America:

Off Again

A Journey Through The Sky In Three Stages

Cute Cat Photos

Smiling Faces

An Afternoon In Iowa In Three Stages

A Letter To The Children At The Pool

Say Hello To The Byway

Three Landmarks And A Pass On The Oregon Trail

Road Trip Realities