Life In A Word

Mighty Fine Print

Whenever a season of sports comes down to the last couple of teams, I pay extra attention whether it’s the Super Bowl, the World Series, or college basketball’s March Madness. A championship is the culmination of an entire season, so the final game puts the stakes at their highest. Just last week I made it to the finals of a competition myself. The thing is, I didn’t even know I was playing.

We’ve all received one of these flyers at one time or another, haven’t we? A bold, colorful announcement suggesting we’ve won something big. In this case, a Viking River Cruise (red capital letters, top left) suggests a tapped mailing list because I’ve cruised with Viking twice. Regardless, this flyer almost went into the trash before I read ~~some~~ all of the fine print. And I must say, whoever came up with the nuts/bolts of this particular contest deserves the Academy Award for Best Producer.

To begin with, notice the element labeled “Combination Box”. This little device is ingenious for two reasons. First, it stretches the envelope the flyer came in beyond a flat piece of paper, tempting the recipient to wonder what’s in there? And second, the device is “activated” by pulling a tab to reveal the “5-digit VIN number” you see here. Then you scratch off the gold circle further down the page to reveal another 5-digit number and – “how about that?” – they’re the same number, which makes me a “Grand Prize Winner”.

The flyer also contains utterly random stuff that has no bearing whatsoever on the contest. I am “cordially invited to ‘The Great America Cruising Expo'” (a fictitious event). Just below the black box is a “VIP Winning Number 5508738” (also useless). Finally, when I call the toll-free number at the bottom (which, to be clear, I will never call), I’m supposed to mention “Code AKSC”. Pretty sure anyone could call the toll-free number, mention the code, and discover they’re also a “Grand Prize Winner”.

Now for the good stuff. Here’s the lower right corner of the flyer. Call Within 48 Hours…? Within 48 hours of what, exactly? How do they know I’m calling within 48 hours of anything? More importantly, look at the four “gifts” below; one of which is apparently mine. Take a guess – which trip do you think I won?

Credit to the contest producers; I guessed wrong. I would’ve thought the 7-Night Resort Stay at Worldwide Destinations was my prize. After all, how much vaguer can a trip description be? If I called the toll-free number they’d probably go, “Yes you won but you can only take the trip on these 7 nights”. And “worldwide destination” technically means anywhere in the world so maybe I’ve won seven nights in the middle of Iowa.

In fact, the prize I “won” is the Caribbean Cruise for Two for Up to 7 Nights. The more I think about it, that one makes more sense. Any ship in Caribbean waters could be considered a “cruise” (even a foreign freighter with an empty cargo hold). “Up to 7 nights” could mean just two nights or even an overnight. And however I actually get to this cruise ship is on my own dime.

The pièce de résistance is on the back of the flyer: the fine print. The five hundred words you see above include the odds of winning (which is how I know I won the Caribbean cruise). Out of every 2,000,000 mailed flyers, 1,999,997 will win the Caribbean cruise, while just three people will win the three trips of any real value. In other words, one person wins a free Viking River Cruise. Okay, enough already; now this flyer goes into the trash, where it should’ve gone in the first place.

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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #2 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)

We continued to move mountains this week (as expected) but I was delighted to see bits of the castle starting to rise up already. Apparently I need to bring in cranes in addition to my earth-moving equipment. Bags 3 and 4 (of 23 bags of pieces) contained a lot of tiny, interesting, colorful bits. I had to be careful those little guys didn’t run down the mountains and try to escape.

For the first time in a half-dozen models I’m here to tell you… LEGO left out a piece. They really did. If you look at this step in the process (and yes, I’m already through 50+ steps), that little two-dot middle-row-right was AWOL. I checked the bags a dozen times thinking he was still in there. I scanned the piles of parts another dozen times. No two-dot. Maybe he’ll show up in another bag further into the build but by then it’ll be too late. The good news is, his location is buried inside the mountains and is not structural. You will never see the small cavity created by his absence.

What you see in the first photo is only about half the size of the completed model. It will be a full rectangle of Bavarian Alps when it’s done. Of course, by then you won’t even notice all the earthmoving I’ve accomplished, because Neuschwanstein Castle will utterly lord over the (LEGO) land.

Running build time: 1:52.

Total leftover pieces: 17.

Accompanying movie soundtrack: Leap Year (2010). I could use the excuse of the lovely Amy Adams to justify this favorite, but this so-so rom-com came out when she was hardly a name. However, Randy Edelman’s score is wonderful. It’s so much larger than the movie itself. “Anna’s Theme” – which the score returns to again and again – is a calming tune using a lot of piano and clarinet. Elsewhere traditional Irish instruments make their inevitable appearance. Maybe the movie is forgettable but the music most definitely is not. Have a listen here.

Note: Life In A Word will be taking a vacation break for the next few weeks. Join me for the next chapter of the castle construction on August 20th!

What’s the Score?

Among the televised game shows I remember watching as a kid was one called Name That Tune. The version I watched wasn’t the original but it was the most successful, running from 1974-1981. Contestants competed for cash prizes by guessing the name of a song from a sound bite performed by the live band. The appeal of Name That Tune was the ability to play the game yourself while you watched (like you can with Jeopardy). But there was one genre of music Name That Tune didn’t tap into very often: film scores.

Here’s my question of the day. Name the last movie you saw where you also remember the music that accompanied the film. Titanic? Okay, but I’m not talking about soundtracks made up of popular songs you’d hear on Spotify (sorry, Celine) but rather instrumental scores where the music is tied to particular scenes of the story. Here, listen to the following sound bite and see if you can name the movie. Bonus points if you can picture the scene where the music was played. (scroll to the bottom for the answer)

Maybe your brain doesn’t associate movies with music the way mine does, but to demonstrate this acuity it took me no time at all to come up with a dozen of my favorite film scores; instrumentals so memorable I instantly recall the movie. Some, like the one I teased above, won Academy Awards (for “Best Original Score”). Others on my list weren’t even nominated… but maybe should have been.

Speaking of Academy Award winners, perhaps examples will help you “hear that tune”. The Best Original Score in 1965 was for The Sound of Music, primarily original songs with lyrics but several instrumental turns as well. The winner in 1973 was for The Sting, in which Scott Joplin’s ragtime piano tunes played the major role. The winner in 1975 was for Jaws, and I wonder who can’t hear that threatening theme whenever they picture a man-eating shark. The 1977 winner? Star Wars, scored by John Williams, who created the music for dozens of blockbuster films. 1990? Dances With Wolves by John Barry, another giant of the world of film scores. The list goes on and on.

As for my own list of favorites you’ll have to be a little more patient. I’ll include them – one at a time – as I give updates on the construction of my LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle over the next several months. If you’re wondering what movie soundtracks and a German castle have in common, I refer back to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang of course, with scenes filmed at Neuschwanstein. The story is a vivid childhood memory start to finish but so is the music. Trust me, for the number of times I’ve seen the film I can “name that scene” for just about every piece of the score.

LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #1 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)

You’d think the construction of a castle would begin with the cornerstone. With the LEGO model you’d be wrong. We’re moving mountains instead. King Ludwig already had the Bavarian Alps at his disposal but we have build them from scratch before they’re crowned with his creation. Good thing this structure isn’t full-size or I’d be renting some serious earthmoving equipment!

With Bags 1 and 2 (of 23 bags of pieces) we got our hands dirty piling up dirt, rock, and other rather undefined landscape to create a mountaintop. Well, one-third of a mountaintop or so. If the next few bags represent the other two-thirds I’m not gonna an exciting update for you next week. At least the pieces snapped together smoothly. As with all LEGO models I’ve built, there were moments where I thought LEGO left out a piece, and other moments where I backed up a step or two to correct the construction. One change I’ve noticed from previous models: LEGO puts the tiniest pieces into paper “baglets”, which I’m not a fan of. Those little bags aren’t transparent, so you don’t always know when a piece gets stuck way down in the corner.

The model’s instruction manual – which henceforth shall be called the “tome of construction” – includes a few teasers about the real castle. Neuschwanstein has secret passageways! It also has “ingenious” inventions of its time, like modern toilets, central heating, and an electric call system for all of the servants who never spent a moment inside the walls. If any of these details are worth seeing before I “close in” the castle, you can bet I’ll be snapping a few photos for your viewing pleasure. Until next week!

Accompanying soundtrack: Mary Poppins . Did the magical nanny really make my list of favorite film scores? No she didn’t (not even for a spoonful of sugar), but I couldn’t find Chitty Chitty Bang Bang isn’t on Spotify and had Dick Van Dyke songs on the brain so… I went with Bert the chimney sweep instead.

Running build time: 44 minutes. Leftover pieces: 4.

“Name the movie” audio answer: Chariots of Fire (during the scene where several runners clad in white jog barefoot on the beach).

Some content sourced from, IMDb.com, “the Internet Movie Database”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

A Builder’s Half-Dozen

Considering the decimal system we Americans use for counting, it’s a little curious how many of our purchases come in sets of six. Soda cans and soda bottles comes in sixes. So do paper towels and toilet paper. Cube-like things have six sides. So do hexagons. Strum a guitar and six strings sing. Finally, let’s acknowledge sets of twelve where you only need half of them. A half-dozen eggs. A half-dozen doughnuts. Or for purposes of this post, a half-dozen LEGO models.

Before I lay the cornerstone of the LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle I thought I should revisit the five LEGO models that preceded it; the ones that perch quietly in various places in my home office. Like Neuschwanstein, these models have sentimental value, which speaks to the primary reason I chose them out of all of the other LEGO possibilities. I mean, I could’ve built the 10,000-piece Eiffel Tower (for example) but would I have been inspired to do so? Hardly, since I’ve only seen it from a distance. Here then, my builder’s half-dozen:

U.S. Capitol Building – I can’t remember what year I purchased this one, my first LEGO build, but it was sometime before this blog even existed. At over 1,000 pieces, it was one of the more sophisticated models of the budding LEGO Architecture Series back then. The LEGO U.S. Capitol does have sentimental value. As a California kid my parents recognized the need to get my brothers and me to the East Coast for a dose of “real” U.S. history. That month-long driving trip through Colonial America is one of my fondest childhood memories.

Grand Piano – You can read about this build starting with Let’s Make Music. It’s my one LEGO model outside of the Architecture Series but also my very favorite. Snapping together 3,662 LEGO pieces over several months allowed me to blog about my favorite pieces of classical music. The piano also brought back countless childhood memories of practice, lessons, and recitals at the keyboard. I may not play as much as I used to, but the LEGO Grand Piano reminds me that classical music will always be a part of my DNA.

Fallingwater – Frank Lloyd Wright’s signature design is undoubtedly my favorite residential structure, especially the way the house blends seamlessly with the natural surrounds of Western Pennsylvania. Fallingwater speaks to my college degree in architecture as well. I built the spartan LEGO Fallingwater model in early 2023 (read about its construction – and my favorite works of architecture – in Perfect Harmony) and then made the long-overdue pilgrimage to Fallingwater itself in the summer of 2024. The experience was every bit as serene and dramatic as I had hoped. If you find yourself anywhere near Pittsburgh, take a little time to visit Fallingwater.

Notre Dame de Paris – The cathedral on the banks of the Seine River in Paris is the first of two LEGO models that harken back to my junior college year in Italy. During spring break I met my parents in Paris and took a whirlwind tour of the city. I didn’t climb the Eiffel Tower and I didn’t even visit the Louvre, but at least I spent a few moments inside the glorious sanctuary of Notre Dame. Forty years later I completed the LEGO version; my biggest build at 4,383 pieces (read about this adventure in Highest Chair). I still need to add the sophisticated lighting kit, which will give the church the dramatic illumination it deserves.

Trevi Fountain – LEGO offers several options to build a structure located in Rome, but the Trevi Fountain spoke loudest to me. I walked through its piazza many times during that college year, throwing coins over my shoulder with hopes of returning to the Eternal City one day (which still hasn’t happened). The Trevi is one of the smaller models of my LEGO half-dozen – less than 2,000 pieces – but it’s high on sentimental value. Read about the build in Brick Wall Waterfall.

Neuschwanstein Castle – I shared a few details about King Ludwig II’s creation in last week’s Fit For a (Fairy Tale) King. The castle’s LEGO model is 3,455 pieces of stone, brick, turrets, towers, and trees, perched above LEGO’s version of the Bavarian Alps. I’ve often thought I should be building this one on top of a ladder to simulate the dramatic location. But the twenty-three bags of pieces and the hefty instruction manual will be challenge enough. I’ll be sharing the ups (and no doubt the downs) of its construction over the next few months.

If you liken a builder’s half-dozen to that of a baker, we’re actually talking seven LEGO models instead of six. And that, my friends, is the convenient caveat for claiming Neuschwanstein Castle will be my final construct (convenient, caveat, claiming, Castle, construct… NICE Dave!). After all, LEGO will keep adding new models to its Architecture Series. I only have room to display six of them but I’m sure that won’t deter me when the seventh comes a-calling.

Fit For a (Fairy Tale) King

I was sorry to see the Germans bow out of the World Cup early, because I’ve had Deutschland on the brain lately. This month (seven years ago) my wife and I cruised down the Rhine River from the Netherlands to Switzerland, but it was pretty much all Germany in between. This month also signals full-on summer and more time in front of the barbeque. On our grill you’ll find German bratwurst as often as American burgers. But more than river cruises and brats, I’m thinking about castles. Not the kind made of sand on beaches, but the real ones made of bricks and stone on mountaintops. Like Germany’s Neuschwanstein Castle.

You’re already familiar with Neuschwanstein; I’m sure you are. When 1.5 million people tour the castle every year – one of the most popular attractions in Europe – it translates to a lot of photos on Facebook. Also, Neuschwanstein includes all of the castle elements you remember from childhood fairy tales: towers, turrets, balconies, gatehouses, courtyards, dungeons, and (the intention of) more than 200 lavishly decorated rooms, built up to the highest of heights. There’s no surrounding moat, but Neuschwanstein gets along fine without one, perched on a hilltop in the middle of the Bavarian Alps.

Frankly, all this castle needs to complete its picture is a king and his court. Alas, Neuschwanstein never had a king – never – not even after its completion in 1892. Yes, the castle was designed by King Ludwig II of Bavaria, but here’s where the fairy tale falls to pieces. To begin with, Ludwig built the castle to escape the stresses of his primary palace life in Munich, so more than anything else it was meant to be a vacation home. Then, Ludwig copied most of Neuschwanstein’s architectural elements from nearby castles, so the design is pretty much a mashup of structures that came beforehand. Finally, and perhaps the saddest statement of all, Neuschwanstein was never completed – not even close. With only a throne room, a “Minstrels’ Hall” (a sort of tribute to the entertainment of the time), a drawing room, and a dozen other spaces, Neuschwanstein’s construction fell well short of its intended 200+ rooms.

The whole idea of Neuschwanstein feels like a bit of a charade. Did Ludwig really intend to decorate and staff hundreds of rooms in a castle from which he didn’t care to lord over the surrounding land? Was he really just frittering away Mom and Dad’s money because he was bored in Munich and had nothing better to spend it on? And shouldn’t he have been focusing his time and energy on his royal responsibilities instead? No wonder he was often referred to as “The Mad King”.

Let’s forget about Ludwig. After all, this post is about a castle, not the king who never occupied it. For all of its lack of completion, originality, and use, Neuschwanstein is still a model castle. Most of you should recognize it from the castle designs it inspired: Disneyland’s Sleeping Beauty Castle and Walt Disney World’s Cinderella Castle. But I prefer another one of its inspirations.

If Neuschwanstein is the ultimate castle, then Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (which I wrote about five years ago in Delicious Clicks) is the ultimate fairy tale. The story of the magical flying car, its inventor Caractacus Potts, the evil Baron Bomburst, the lovely Truly Scrumptious, and on and on, comes back to me like it was yesterday. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was the first Ian Fleming book I ever read, well before anything James Bond. Yet it never occurred to me until this post that Neuschwanstein served as the story’s castle. The movie version includes several aerial shots (from the driver’s seat of a flying car, of course), and sweeping views of the surrounding countryside. Neuschwanstein has always had a familiarity about it. Now I know why.

Someday I’ll make the journey to see King Ludwig II’s creation in person… but not before I build it myself here at home. Just when I thought I’d tackled my last LEGO project, along comes another one I simply can’t pass up. The LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle is 3,455 bricks of towers, turrets, and Bavarian Alps, boxed and bagged along with the usual paperweight instruction manual. I’m ready to don my crown and get started and as usual I’ll include small updates alongside my usual posts. When all’s said and built maybe I’ll even suspend a flying car overhead, so the castle looks more like a fairy tale than a mere vacation home for a mad king.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Hitting the Sweets Spot

My brother owns a vintage Ferrari – not as pricey as it might sound. One of his neighbors sold him the 1960s-era car for cheap, in far less than mint condition, and he spent years bringing it back to life. I’ve never had an interest in a Ferrari myself. However, if I change up just two vowels in the word (the “a” and the “i”), I come up with Ferrero. Okay, now you have my attention.

Ferrero is a remarkable success story for a family business, especially considering its start as a modest pastry shop in a small town in northern Italy. Two brothers: Pietro with a love of creating new products and Giovanni a natural at networking, grew the business across the region over the years, but it wasn’t until they handed the reins to son Michele that Ferrero became a household name. Today, the “sweets-packaged food company” is one of the world’s largest, boasting an entire supermarket aisle worth of products.

Let’s start with Nutella (just like Ferrero did when they moved beyond pastries). Nutella was created as a spin on chocolate with the intent of making it more affordable. Add hazelnuts plentiful in local orchards and Ferrero came up with the butter-like confection the world knows so well today. That product all by itself would’ve been considered a success story, but since then Ferrero grew their sweets umbrella to a gigantic list… and one from which I’ve sampled way too many times.

Begin anywhere you want by adding sugar and you’re probably talking Ferrero. How about Tic Tac? It’s a Ferrero product. I’d love to know how many (hundreds? thousands?) of boxes of Tic Tac I’ve consumed over the years, with the excuse I always had a breath mint nearby when I needed one. My choice was the standard white “Freshmint”, but there’s a flavor for everyone now, including the orange “Citrus”, pink and white “Strawberries and Cream”, and even brown “Dr. Pepper”.

Ferrero also commands a good share of the candy bars you’d find at your nearby 7-Eleven. Take your pick from 100 Grand, Baby Ruth, Butterfinger, Chunky, Oh Henry, or Crunch – they’re all Ferrero now. If you don’t recognize that last one, it’s because Ferrero (or actually Ferrara – one of their subsidiaries) reduced the word “Nestlé” to a really small font on the label. It’s true; a Nestlé Crunch bar may still be produced by Nestlé but it’s now licensed by Ferrero.

Maybe you’re a fan of movie candy. You’ll also find Ferrero at the theater, whether you choose a box of Goobers, Raisinets, or Sno-Caps. Cookies instead? How about the Mother’s Cookies brand? Their pink/white “Circus Animals” and frosted “Taffy Sandwich” cookies still tug at my taste buds. Or maybe you go for those bite-sized Famous Amos chocolate-chip cookies. Amos may not sound Italian but he’s in the Ferrero family now.

When I first met my wife she introduced to me to Fanny May “premium gourmet” chocolates. It was the first time my allegiance to See’s Candies was tested. Trust me, it’s hard to beat a Fanny May milk chocolate vanilla buttercream. For that matter, raise your game with a cherry-filled Mon Chéri or a gold-foiled Ferrero Rocher . Each of these indulgences – except See’s – are now Ferrero.

Which brings me to the ultimate get. The list I’ve covered is not even half of the name brands you’ll find at Ferrero but last year they might’ve reeled in their biggest fish yet… Kellogg’s. Seriously, who among us hasn’t had a bowl (or a hundred bowls) of Kellogg’s breakfast cereal? When I was a kid there always seemed to be a box of Corn Flakes, Special K, or Raisin Bran in the pantry (none of which I was crazy about) and better yet Apple Jacks, Froot Loops, or Honey (Sugar) Smacks. You’ll find a lot more choices than those on the cereal shelves, and in every case you’re talking Ferrero as much as Kellogg’s.

As much as I’ve enjoy Ferrero’s products, virtually all of them are past memories. I’ve moved on to more “adult” choices (translation: way less processed sugar). So I made myself a wager before I checked: There are no Ferrero products in my pantry. And then I promptly lost the bet – twice. I found a box of Raisin Bran (how’d that get in there?) destined to hit its expiration date sooner than the cereal bowl. And I found a box of Nonni’s, which are pretty darned tasty for an off-the-shelf brand of biscotti. I’m starting to think I took the wrong approach with today’s topic. Maybe my lead question was meant to be: what products aren’t under Ferrero’s umbrella?

Don’t Fence Me In!

Early on in the Christmas classic It’s A Wonderful Life, there’s a scene where George Bailey absentmindedly strolls back and forth on the sidewalk in front of Mary Hatch’s house, dragging a stick along her fence. Mary sees him from an upstairs window, leans out and yells, “What are you doing… picketing? It’s a great line, wordplay on her front yard fence.

For generations, picket fences have stood hand-in-hand with the American houses immediately behind them. These quaint-looking property markers are considered symbols of middle class prosperity and an idyllic family life. Even the “American Dream” includes a white picket fence. But maybe no longer. The dream seems to have been updated. Americans no longer want pickets… they want walls.

As much as I want to believe a high, solid fence is merely the mark of an eccentric neighbor, facts don’t lie. Suburbia is abandoning the picket fence in favor of taller, more robust barriers. A Connecticut fencing company used to fill 40% of its orders with pickets. How many orders have they had for the low white fences in 2026? Zero. Instead they’re filling a demand for panels of plastic (PVC) seven feet on a side, mounted between even higher columns. The welcoming American cottage is turning into the locked-down American fortress.

One could blame the abandonment of pickets on cost and maintenance. After all, wood needs to be kept dry and repainted to avoid rot, while PVC is less expensive and lasts a whole lot longer. Fencing companies tried switching out wooden pickets for plastic ones but apparently the open look isn’t “closed off” enough for today’s preference. There’s a concerning motive at work here. People no longer want to know what’s going on beyond their fences (or even more concerning, they don’t want you to know what’s going on behind them.)

To each their own but I’m still a fan of pickets. They define a property yet don’t remove the “welcome” because they’re short and have gaps. You can easily chat up your neighbor whether you’re twenty feet removed or right up against the fence. As for the look, pickets don’t have to be boring, pointy stakes. They can be crowned with spades, spears, balls, crosses, fleur di lis (for you French-Americans) or whatever else your circular saw can come up with.

A high, imposing fence is the last thing I’d want surrounding my property. Having said that, the first house my wife and I bought had one on three sides. We lived on a California postage-stamp, with both neighboring houses on minimum setbacks. Without the “privacy fence” we’d be looking from our windows right into theirs. It takes awhile to forget what you’ve seen when a neighbor doesn’t draw down the bathroom shade.

Our next couple of houses had no fences at all. The properties were bigger so privacy was solved by distance instead of by division. As for the house we live in now, we’re surrounded by “three-board” fence consistent with the other properties in our community. Three-board is designed to keep horses in the pastures where they belong, but doesn’t wall you off from your neighbors. A three-board is anything but a privacy fence and that’s fine with me. I just wish it was made out of pickets instead.

The math on a picket fence to replace my three-board is not what I’d hoped. Surrounding our five acres would take upwards of 1,000 pickets. Oof. There’s a lot “at stake” there, not to mention our horses would happily step over in pursuit of greener pastures. I’ll just stick with what I’ve got. There’s a wonderful life on the other side of my fence and I can still see it.

Some content sourced from the Pocono Record article, “Picket fence adds privacy, security with classic style”, and the U.S. Sun article, “Is the white picket fence completely dead?”

Best Feet Forward

Remember the scene at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where Indy chooses from a dozen or more chalices in hopes of finding the Holy Grail? The correct cup turned out to be the most modest of them all. Starting this month, forty-eight soccer teams vie for their own Holy Grail (an entirely immodest cup), across sixteen venues jam-packed with thousands of delirious fans. This month, North America welcomes the madness that is the World Cup.

Let me admit right up front, I am a sports fan but not a soccer fan. I’ve enjoyed the American version of football as long as I can remember but not so much the other version made popular by the World Cup. By the standards of a lot of sports, soccer can be described as slow, boring, and low scoring. But of course, any soccer aficionado will tell you there’s more to enjoying the game than meets the eye; much more. Maybe the 104 matches over the next six weeks will get me to agree.

I won’t waste this space on a primer on soccer; not even the complicated format of the World Cup competition itself. Your favorite browser or AI will be happy to fill in those fútbol blanks. Instead, I want to focus on what lies just outside of the Cup. You’ll find headlines and curiosities that wouldn’t have happened without this event, but are perhaps more interesting than the kicks on the field…

for instance…

Trivia question: How many teams sought qualification to become one of the forty-eight participating in this year’s World Cup? I’ll give you a hint: We have 195 recognized countries in the world. Would you guess 150 teams? 125? 100? Sorry, you’re heading in the wrong direction (and it’s a trick question). There were over two hundred soccer teams when the qualifying rounds began almost three years ago. How that number was whittled to forty-five (plus one each for host countries Canada, U.S., and Mexico) would take way more words than I am allotted today.

Here’s something less trivial. One of six teams is destined to hoist the Golden Ball trophy (worth about $10M all by itself): England, France, Spain, Portugal, Brazil, or Argentina. Maybe your sentiments lie with one of the host teams but the facts and the resumes don’t lie: Europe and South America have dominated professional soccer for decades. Baseball may be as American as apple pie, but we’re talking about a sport for the legs, not the arms. Having said that, you won’t have to wait long to get your first look at the Americans. We “kick off” against Paraguay tomorrow night.

If you’re looking for a longshot to win this thing (and I mean l-o-n-g-g-g-g-g-g shot), choose one of the teams from Curacao, Jordan, Uzbekistan, or Cape Verde. These countries are playing in the World Cup for the first time (and the World Cup’s been going on for a hundred years). To me, curacao is a liquor that tastes like Triple Sec. Jordan is a man’s name. Uzbekistan is somewhere in Asia surrounded by countries whose names I also can’t pronounce. And (Cape) verde means green in Spanish. Notice nowhere here am I saying anything about the talents of their World Cup soccer teams.

Speaking of alcohol, it’ll be interesting to see how the fortunes of the beer, wine, and liquor producers are swayed by the World Cup. With sixteen stadiums and 104 matches, you’d expect a boost in drink sales big enough to create Niagara Falls. Unfortunately for them, the World Cup is hosted by a continent where drinking is descending to record low levels, with the younger generations promoting the idea alcohol “is bad for your health”. Maybe fans will raise a glass of milk to the winner like they do at the Indianapolis 500.

The final match will be held in New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium

Like the receiving line at a wedding, I’d love to meet every one of the World Cup fans who make it to the final match in New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium. Why? These people must do some pretty remarkable things for a living. Even with the likelihood the host countries will not be represented, a ticket is projected to set you back between $15K and $20K. Fifteen thousand American dollars for three hours of sport. Throw in peripheral expenses and a family of five could easily spend six figures. It’s kind of nuts. No, it’s a whole bowl of nuts. And mark my words, every last seat in MetLife will be filled.

There’s a lot more to be said about the World Cup, and I’ll be tempted to keep you updated over the next six weeks. In the meantime I need to get back to my regular routine. Game #1 and #2 take place today and I have no intention of sitting down to watch. I may kick myself for my lack of attention but hey, now there’s a great way to describe my ability to play soccer.

Some content sourced from the CNN Sports article, “World Cup beginner’s guide…”, the CNN Sports article, “Who are the World Cup favorites?, the CNN Sports article, “The World Cup debutants…”, the CNN Sports article, “Why sky-high ticket prices have sent fans searching…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Beachy Keen

South Carolina’s heat and humidity are quickly moving the dial to “broil” – as they always do this time of year – so my wife and I will go with our most dependable coping mechanism: travel to places other than South Carolina. Technically that’s not quite true because one of those destinations is still South Carolina. Doesn’t matter. The goal is to find temperatures closer to the “bake” setting, where the air movement qualifies as a breeze. Both conditions can be found, of course, at the beach.

I consider myself fortunate to have grown up near a beach. Others may counter by saying the mountains are more desirable, or the desert, or the shores of a pristine lake. To each their own. For me, an upbringing of Pacific Ocean sand and surf turned the calm of the coast into a part of my DNA. I thirst for the beach several times a year. And in the United States alone, I have 650 choices.

Inevitably, 10 of those 650 beaches are rated as “top”. The so-called authority on the subject is a guy nicknamed Dr. Beach. At first I scoffed at the notion that one person could choose the ten best from hundreds, but this doctor takes his medicine seriously. Dr. Beach has identified fifty criteria (fifty!) to evaluate beaches, including water warm enough to swim in, sand clarity, presence of pests (like mosquitos and seagulls), and the size of the ocean waves. He even rates the surrounding noise level generated by humans.

To further solidify his credentials, Dr. Beach disqualifies locales threatened by pollution, erosion, or out-of-control seaweed. He “retires” beaches that have reached the top ten too many times since he started his lists (in 1991). Finally, Dr. Beach has visited every… single… one… of those 650 beaches. He may be obsessed with his subject but I’d say he’s a bona fide authority, wouldn’t you?

Caladesi Island State Park in Clearwater FL

On his list for 2026, Dr. Beach prescribed four in Hawaii, three in Florida, one in Cape Cod, and one in the Hamptons. His tenth selection, coming in at #7, is right here in South Carolina. Whew, that was close. After all, he could’ve picked MY beach and then me and the good doctor would be having a serious conversation.

As you know, the problem with top-ten lists is exposure. Something or somewhere great suddenly becomes headline news and everyone wants a piece of it. Next thing you know that thing or that place becomes too popular, and no longer resembles its former wonderful self. With all due respect to Dr. Beach’s “retirement” strategy, once something becomes “top-ten” we’re not quick to forget about it.

Cape Cod gets busy in the summer months…

I’ve been to a few of Dr. Beach’s top choices for 2026. Maybe not Coast Guard Beach in Cape Cod, but just about every beach on Cape Cod is bucolic. Maybe not Caladesi State Park in Clearwater, Florida but I’ve dipped my toes in the sugar sand and warm waters of a beach in Clearwater. I’ve been to Poipu Beach on the island of Kauai, Hawaii twice, for my honeymoon and for a family reunion. I’m happy to see Poipu ranked as the #1 beach in the United States this year.

I’m even happier to see my two favorite beaches not ranked in the top ten (or anywhere near it) this year. One is on the West Coast and one is right here in South Carolina. One is big and one is small. Both have easy access to the quaint shopping of a nearby village. And both have the kind of views where walking, riding bikes, or simply staring out at the sea never gets old. The names of these beaches are…

Nope. Sorry, no big reveal. Not even the tease of a photo. There aren’t a ton of you readers out there but it only takes one to make my beaches go viral, and then what am I going to do? Find another couple of beaches? Uh-uh, no way. Go find your own beaches. You have 650 to choose from. And God forbid Dr. Beach ever ranks mine in his top ten. If that happens I’ll report him to the “surf board” and demand they pull his license.

Some content sourced from the CNN Travel article, “Hawaii and Florida top list of best U.S. beaches…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Make My Moon a Double

May’s flowers blooming from April’s showers have been a little hard to find this year. Maybe that’s because we haven’t had any showers. South Carolina just endured its fourth driest April in well over a century. We’re finally getting some moisture but it’s going to take a whole lot more to move us from “severe” to “moderate” on the drought scale. On the other hand May’s full moon was right on time… and it’s going to be right on time again.

A bookend is “one or two things occurring or located at either end of something else”. It’s not the sexiest of words but it’s entirely fitting for today’s topic. A full moon rose on May 1st and it’ll rise again on May 31st, like a pair of shiny silver dollar bookends. I think it’s mesmerizing to look at the full moon on a pitch-black night. And two full moons? Well that’s just double the pleasure.

May’s first full moon came with the label Flower Moon, to acknowledge “landscapes erupting into bloom”. No sir, not even close. If you ask me this year’s May 1 moon should’ve been named Weed Moon because weeds were about the only thing erupting around here. No matter what grows or doesn’t grow the rest of the month, May’s other full moon will be Blue Moon because that’s what we call the second one in a calendar month. You only get a Blue Moon ever two or three years.

I get a Blue Moon every two or three weeks, but now I’m talking about beer instead of Earth’s solo satellite. I’m not a big beer drinker but a Blue Moon adorned with its signature orange slice sure hits the spot after hot and sweaty yardwork. Molson-Coors has been brewing Blue Moon since 1995 and they’ve put several taste spins on it, like Honey Moon, Harvest Moon, and Full Moon. This time of year you can purchase a six of Rising Moon, which amps up the citrus flavors in anticipation of summer, but I’m still inclined to go with the original Blue.

Speaking of full moons, we should be happy ours is a perfect sphere (save for a few craters). The technology of the James Webb Space Telescope is teaching us a lot more about the other planets in our solar system. Neptune, the most distant of the eight (with apologies to little Pluto, kicked out of the club in 2006) has sixteen moons, but most of them look like orbiting shards instead of spheres. Triton, Neptune’s largest moon, made like a bowling ball back when it entered the planet’s gravitational pull, busting up a beautiful array of perfectly round orbs. Imagine if our moon looked like a shard instead of a ball. We wouldn’t be talking about full moons at all, let alone blue ones.

The “calendrical” Blue Moon from December 2009

The upcoming Blue Moon gets its name from an utter lack of imagination. I was hoping the word would refer to the moon itself, perhaps the result of some lunar bioluminescent algae like you see with an ocean red tide. Or maybe the blue would represent the tears of Luna, the Roman goddess of the moon, crying over some mythological misfortune. Instead, a “blue moon” is actually caused by Earth, in the rare occurrence where our forest fires or volcanoes generate atmospheric emissions which really do shade the moon blue. I’ve never seen this phenomenon before but even if I did, it probably wouldn’t come with a full moon. C’mon, we need a better name for “second full moon in a calendar month”. I propose “Déjà vu Moon”.

Speaking of déjà vu, you might have read about full moons in this blog before, in my post Sphere Elegance. It’s a little nostalgic to read something you wrote ten years ago. The focus back then was more on the science and less on the entertainment value (I’ve learned to flip-flop the two over the years since), but at least I was consistent with the definitions and my affection for the like-named beer. Hey, maybe I should address this topic every ten years. Then I could say I was writing about it, you know… once in a blue moon.

Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Whenever She Asks, Bake the Cake

I just did the quick math and realized my wife and I have been empty nesters for almost ten years now. When our youngest headed off to college in 2017 we pivoted and embraced the milestone of less clutter and chaos. But just as suddenly we have grandchildren now, and with them comes the reminders of those formerly frenetic chapters of our lives.

The moment that inspired this post was the one I never saw coming. We hosted our granddaughters earlier this week, in the first of what we hope will be countless “sleepovers”. At ages 3 and “almost 2” they’re a sight for sore eyes (and also a sight you should never take your eyes off of). My wife and I were in the kitchen doing a something-or-other task when suddenly the three-year old beckoned to me from the nearby screened-in porch. It’s pretty adorable when a little one uses “come here” gestures to get your attention because she still doesn’t quite have the words.

Now let me admit to a little annoyance. After all, I was in the middle of something and I was being interrupted by my granddaughter. In typical adult fashion I said, “Hang on honey, let me finish what I’m doing”, but she persisted. Apparently what needed to be seen couldn’t wait one more minute. So I let out a sigh, put down what I was doing, and wandered over to the porch.

Here was my granddaughter, holding her hands out wide to proudly display what was sitting on the table…. an empty wooden bowl. I looked at the bowl and then I looked at her, then back to the bowl, then back to her with obvious question marks in my eyes. And all she said to me was, “cake!”. Cake? What was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to pronounce some other word but somehow it came out “cake”?

It was then she gave me a glimpse into her wonderfully imaginative little world. I had no idea our screened-in porch was actually a world-class chef’s kitchen. There was some serious baking going on in there! And the cake’s ingredients – of which there were many – came from the most unexpected places.

To begin with my granddaughter produced a small rock (not sure where that came from), which served as the cake “starter”. Then she picked up the largest throw pillow from the couch and shook it vigorously into the bowl. Who knew we had a “bag of flour” right there on the porch? Immediately adjacent to the flour, a smaller throw pillow became a “bag of sugar”. More vigorous shaking. Finally she seized the third throw pillow, which she didn’t have an answer for (so we told her it was baking powder).

Other ingredients followed. When she asked for butter we emptied the box of butter sticks from our refrigerator so she could help herself to “the rest of them”. When she needed a little water she sprinkled some (literally) from the nearby wall fountain. An empty watering can was suddenly “full of milk”. And in a creative spin I could never come up with myself, she decided the four ornate corners of our patio table were dispensers for cake toppings like whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and rainbow sprinkles. She’d press press her hand down on them and make a “sh-sh-sh” dispensing sound that sounded just like the real deal.

At this point I’d completely forgotten whatever mundane task I’d been doing in the real kitchen because I was focused on the make-believe one instead. I contributed several (real) implements so the cake could be thoroughly prepared. Wooden spoons for stirring. Spatulas for turning. Tongs to pick up and put down the mysterious rock (a repetitive step in the recipe she clearly understood but I did not). An (empty) shaker of cinnamon. Impatiently I asked her if the cake was done but she just shook her head side-to-side and said, “No (Gran) Da, this cake will take hours”. And that was perfectly fine with me.

By the time our granddaughters were strapped into their car seats and on their way home I think we’d baked another four cakes on the ~~porch~~ kitchen. Little Miss Almost-2 occasionally pitched in as sous chef, although her older sister was only too happy to point out who was in charge. Today as I sit at my laptop I’m looking at a clean and organized screened-in porch. It suddenly seems a little boring.

As for the inside of the house, the dishes are washed, the toys are back in the cabinets, and everything’s pleasantly back in order. It’s an empty nest around here again. Except for some little handprints that need to be scrubbed from the living room windows. On second thought maybe I’ll leave those where they are, if only to remind me – whenever she asks – to drop everything I’m doing and go bake the cake.