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My husband and I recently visited an art museum in a museum in a museum…a triple whammy. We had no idea what we were getting into.

This wondrous adventure began when I read about an art exhibit entitled Hector Guimard: Art Nouveau to Modernism. Being lovers of the sensuous, sinewy Art Nouveau style, we headed to downtown Chicago for the sole reason of seeing the show.

The exhibit was housed in the Nickerson Mansion, an elegant building that dates to 1883, shortly before the Art Nouveau movement took over Europe. “But,” I thought as we were driving down, “I’ve seen Robber Baron mansions before, I’m focused on the exhibit.” How wrong I was; the mansion was a fantastic destination in itself. The library room alone would have been worth the trip.

The next surprise was the Richard H. Driehaus Museum which is housed in the Nickerson Mansion. Driehaus bought the mansion in 2003, restored it and filled it with selected objects from his personal art collection which contains over 1,500 decorative objects from the Gilded Age. His acquisitions include one of “America’s most significant collections of Louis Comfort Tiffany.” Again, worthy of a journey to see.

And, finally, we arrived at the exhibit on Hector Guimard which was displayed on the second and third floors of the mansion. It was not an anticlimax.

Guimard (1867-1942) was the leading architect of the Art Nouveau Movement in France. One of his best known works are the iconic entrances to the Paris metro stations.

No aspect of design was left untouched by Guimard. He designed his wife’s engagement ring, the invitation to their wedding and her wedding dress. Then he designed a four-story townhouse, his dream home for his bride, and filled it with furniture, carpets and decorative objects of his design. The house still stands at 22 Mozart Avenue in Paris.

His fortune was made designing homes for the wealthy, but in his later years, Guimard focused on creating modest homes from modular blocks for ordinary people. Unfortunately, his idea never caught on. It still hasn’t, and how ironic it was to be standing surrounded by the epitome of luxurious living and reading about affordable housing. All in all, a mind-blowing, serendipitous day.

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I recently turned on the car radio and braced myself for the usual tsunami of grim news. Instead, a cheerful vignette about Bobi, a dog, was airing on NPR. Cat-lover that I am, Bobi’s story is too good not to share.

Leonel Costa, who lives in the countryside near Conqueiros, Portugal, was eight years old when Bobi’s litter was born in the family’s woodshed. The year was 1992, and his father could not afford to feed the litter so he “got rid of them”. Bobi was hidden in a woodpile and survived. Costa and his siblings kept Bobi a secret, but puppies are hard to hide. Costa’s parents relented and let Bobi join the family.

On February 1, 2023, at the age of 30 years and 266 days, Bobi was confirmed to be the world’s oldest dog in the Guinness Book of World Records. He dethroned an Australian cattle dog named Bluey who was born in 1910 and lived 29 years.

Bobi celebrated his 31st birthday on May 11, 2023. Over 100 people attended his party, some traveling from other countries. Bobi died five months later, living about 217 dog years. His entire life was spent with Leonel Costa’s family, cats and farm animals.

Whenever anyone lives an exceptionally long time, this question is always asked, “What is the secret to your long life?” Bobi’s owner answers for Bobi with these reasons:

• Bobi lived on a farm with fresh air and nearby forests. 
• Bobi was never leashed or caged. He was free to roam.
• Bobi ate what we ate, food we grew or raised. I simply washed off the seasonings we put on our food.
• Bobi was very loved.

Nature, freedom, a Mediterranean diet and love…a good formula for every creature, including us.

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In the past 16 years, I have written 874 (almost always on Tuesday) weekly blogs. But this week my pen is silent as I want to share a piece of writing my wonderful and witty cousin sent out after her Thanksgiving dinner last year. It is a cautionary tale.

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So, here’s the story of our “interesting” Thanksgiving meal.

Since it was going to be just the five of us, I bought a 4 Ib pre-roasted turkey breast, which just needed to be heated for an hour or so in the oven. I made dressing, mashed and sweet potatoes the day before, and bought pre-made gravy. Our guests made green bean casserole and I had some candied carrots as well. The turkey directions said to put it on a shallow pan, and I decided to use a Pyrex 9×13 pan for it. I basted it with herbed butter and put it in a 350 oven, with the sweet and mashed potatoes in casserole pans above it. After the appointed hour, the turkey was barely breaking a sweat, so I turned the oven up to 400 and gave everything another 30 minutes. The other dishes were also taking their sweet time so I uncovered them to see if we could have dinner before we fainted from hunger. Finally, the turkey had heated up to 170, and the sides were ready as well. We took the turkey out of the oven and put it on top of the glass-topped stove. No big deal, eh? Done similar moves a million times. So imagine our surprise when at the very moment the dish hit the stovetop, the Pyrex baking dish shattered and lethal shards flew everywhere, into the oven, over the countertops, all over the floor. It was incredible that none of the three of us around the stove were hurt, thankfully. These splinters were razor-sharp and could easily have damaged our eyes, face or rest of the body. To say we were stunned was an understatement. It’s Pyrex, for Pete’s sake, that stuff never shatters, until it does. Don’t know why, don’t know how, but it did. So, to assess the damage to the dinner. Obviously, the turkey was a goner. Then the sides, which looked fine but had been in the line of fire. Off the menu! Rolls were cancelled too. Thankfully I had put the dressing into a slow cooker, as well as pre-made gravy and the green bean casserole was outside the combat zone, with the carrots. We were left with dressing, gravy, carrots and the ubiquitous green bean casserole. No turkey? No problem! We didn’t really miss it. But next year, I hope someone invites me to their house for Thanksgiving.

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No more shattered Pyrex for my cousin this year. She has been invited out!

Wishing everyone a Pyrex-free Thanksgiving.

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Quick, what do Mumbai, Tokyo, Champ-Elysees, Paris, Ipanema Beach, Brazil, and Manitowoc, Wisconsin^* all have in common?

The answer is they all have identical billboards urging people to VOTE… for New Zealand’s Bird of the Century. The contest began in 2005 and has been chirping along ever since. Coordinated by the Royal Forest and Bird Society, its purpose is to support threatened fauna.

When comedian John Oliver heard of the contest, he contacted the sponsors to see if he could campaign for one of the over 70 birds on the ballot. His eye was on the Pūteketeke, also known as the Australasian Crested Grebe.

The sponsors said, “Go for it!.” John does admit they probably had no idea what was about to be let fly. When asked about his motives by Jimmy Fallon on The Tonight Show, Oliver quipped, “American money undermining a foreign election, what is more to be proud about than that?”

There is no need to think Oliver has rigged the election any more than the New Zealanders have been doing for years. Foul play and voter fraud are widespread as voters are passionate about their choices. Several years ago, two teenagers hacked into the voting system to promote their favorite candidate, and other tomfoolery is common.

When asked why he chose this particular bird, Oliver described it as magnificent and charming. He also mentioned the birds’ unusual mating dance. They dive underwater, grab a bunch of grass, pop up to the surface and chest bump each other. Then they go to the shore and “try to figure out what to do next.”

The voting ended on November 12, and we are eagerly awaiting the results which have been delayed because of a “massive influx of votes.” Whatever the outcome, John Oliver has made the world a happier place with his zany humor.

^*Manitowoc was the only American city to get a billboard. Lucky us.

NEWS FLASH! The results have just come in. The Pūteketeke is New Zealand’s Bird of the Century. Over 350,000 people from 195 countries voted for the Pūteketeke which got 290,374 votes, about 83% of the vote. Second place went to the North Island Brown Kiwi, which received 12,904 votes. And there were shenanigans. One person was disqualified for casting 40,000 votes for the Eastern Rockhopper Penguin.

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I never turn down a chance to go to our local hardware store. Even if my husband only needs a few nuts and bolts, I tag along.

In 1850, August Trilling, a German immigrant, opened a general store on Pennsylvania Avenue in Sheboygan. He sold hardware, turpentine and whiskey among other “staples”. By 1911, Trilling moved to 9th and Michigan Avenue where the business remains to this day, 173 years later.

Stepping into Trillings is like walking into the past. Narrow aisles are piled high with merchandise. Hardware reigns, bins and bins of it. You can count on getting what you are looking for. The store is happy to sell you one screw or a carload.

I enjoy browsing all the aisles but am especially attracted to their paint section. A vast rainbow of paint colors and types guarantees that I can find any weird thing I’m looking for…like the exact color match for my chainsaw bear’s paint job.

Also high on my happiness list is their key service. They can duplicate almost any key. And when the finished key is handed over, the employee always gives a reminder to check it out right away and bring it back if it’s not a perfect fit.

So here is the key reason for the store’s amazing longevity…personal service. Trillings hires lots of people, and they are in the aisles ready to help. Plus, they understand plumbing, electrical wiring, home repairs and even gardening problems. My husband recently had a long conversation about the right way to seal up our leaky front door. We went home with a long piece of weatherstripping that fit like a charm.

When we were checking out that day, I noticed a 5-inch flat rock next to the cash register. On it was painted two funny crabs and the words, “Don’t be Crabby”.

I looked at our cheerful cashier and said, “I hope people haven’t been nasty to you.” To which she replied, “Most of our customers are great, but we do get some mean ones, so one of our employees painted the rock.” And then she added, “I think some people changed during Covid. They were locked in their homes and only thought of themselves for a year and a half…and they still can’t think of anyone else.”

In my opinion, anyone being crabby to these hard working, helpful employees should be told they cannot have the free bag of popcorn from the popcorn machine at the end of the checkout aisle.

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