Author: Dave

Five hundred posts would suggest I have something to say… This blog was born from a desire to elevate the English language, highlighting eloquent words from days gone by. The stories I share are snippets of life itself, and each comes with a bonus: a dusted-off word I hope you’ll go on to use more often. Read “Deutschland-ish Improvements” to learn about my backyard European wish list. Try “Slush Fun” for the throwback years of the 7-Eleven convenience store. Or drink in "Iced Coffee" to discover the plight of the rural French cafe. On the lighter side, read "Late Night Racquet Sports" for my adventures with our latest moth invasion. As Walt Whitman said, “That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” Here then, my verse. Welcome to Life In A Word.

Chugga Chugga Chew Chew

Technology isn’t always our friend. Recent studies show plastic water bottles shed as many as 24,000 “micro-bits” of plastic into the consumer’s body. These bits measure 1/1000th of a meter across. But more recent studies – studies we didn’t have the technology for even five years ago – reveal the same bottles sheds another 200,000 “nano-bits”. At 1/1,000th the width of a human hair, these infinitesimal particles are so small they pass through the membranes of the body’s organs, leading to heaven knows what kind of damage. “Gulp!”

Let’s leave this horror movie of science-you-didn’t-want-to-know behind and go with glass or metal containers instead. But it’s virtually impossible to avoid ingesting plastic particles anyway. And many people make a habit of it every day… with chewing gum. Gum contains the same microplastics as water bottles. No surprise there. You shouldn’t really ingest any of the ingredients in chewing gum.

When you’re a kid however, you don’t care about ingredients (let alone bits of plastic). Gum chewing is a habit I absolutely subscribed to in childhood. I still remember the barber who cut my hair when I was single-digits old. The reward for being a good boy in the chair was to help myself to one of those little wrapped chunks of Bazooka bubble gum. Bubble gum has a distinctive flavor I can still recall decades later. The pink stuff also has the built-in game of blowing big, sticky bubbles.

After Bazooka came Bubble Yum, a trendy alternative because it was a softer chew from the get-go and packaged in larger chunks. Bubble Yum came in several flavors. But for me, chewing gum evolved from “bubble” to “sugarless” in a heartbeat, thanks to one too many trips to the dentist. Choosing from the “prize shelf” after my fillings, I always went for the pack of Dentyne instead of the toys. Dentyne was the dentist’s way of encouraging less sugar (and more saliva). Dentyne was my way of thinking it was still okay to chew gum.

Somewhere between Bubble Yum and Dentyne came those slim packs of “stick gum”, including Doublemint, Juicy Fruit, Clove, and for this licorice aficionado, Black Jack. I also consumed my fair share of Chiclets. But my gum habit eventually evolved to more of a”breath mint” chew. The one I remember best was “Freshen Up”, the green chunk of gum encasing the small dose of mouthwash gel. You’d get this mind-blowing burst of mint the moment you bit into it. Pretty novel for chewing gum.

What I never saw coming – which ground my chewing gum habit to an abrupt halt – was TMJ, also known as (the more scary-sounding) “dysfunction of the temporomandibular joint”. In plain English, TMJ is sustained pain in the jaw muscles from overuse. It’s nasty, and if you’re not careful it can be chronic. For me it was relieved by backing off on the chewing gum… as well as breakfast bowls of Grape Nuts. If you’ve had TMJ yourself, you know it’s a little unnerving (pun intended) because there’s no guarantee you’re ever gonna get rid of it.

Every now and then someone offers me a piece of gum and I politely decline. I’m not interested in the return of jaw pain and besides, I’ve developed a preference for breath mints instead. As for you, whether you chugga chugga (your water) or chew chew (your gum), don’t forget about those nasty nano-plastics. Just like Mr. TMJ, they’re not your friend.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #11

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

Today we “leveled the praying field” 🙂 Bags 19, 20, and 21… of 34 bags of pieces, brought the height of the nave to virtually the same as the chancel. It’s safe to say the lion’s share of the remaining pieces will be (tiny and) focused on building the roof structure and west end bell towers.

Dropping a piece down, down, down into the sanctuary – which I managed to do twice today through the top square openings you see here – is no laughing matter. You might say, “Just flip the model over and shake them out, Dave” but I’m way too far along to risk it falling apart. Instead, I had to reach down with my giant fingers, gently pinch, and then pull back like a construction crane. I hope I didn’t scare the parishioners in the process.

We built framed windows today, (plastic) glass and all! These can be seen in the final photo, on the west end of the cathedral above the doors. We also built – in somewhat assembly-line fashion – another fourteen of the cathedral’s distinctive flying buttresses. But the most tedious, time-consuming task of all was the arched windows you see along the upper walls of the nave in the first photo. Each is assembled from a dozen finger-numbing pieces.

Finally, a word about weight. I picked up the cathedral the other day and went, “Holy cow!” (ha). Turns out this beast weighs a robust three pounds already. That’s a lot of plastic. And given today’s blog topic I’m thankful the model isn’t edible.

Running build time: 10 hrs. 28 min.

Total leftover pieces: 28 (no new ones!)

Some content sourced from the CNN Health article, “Chewing gum can shed microplastics into saliva…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Crop of the Cream

One of the essentials you’ll find in our refrigerator is a container of “half & half”. The 50/50 concoction of milk and light cream creates the perfect texture in our morning cup of coffee. Anything leaning more towards nonfat just doesn’t cut it for us. Earlier this week I noticed (with a wry smile) our half & half was parked right next to a tall, red can of Reddi Wip. Talk about your polar opposites. In the Jeopardy category of “Cream”, it doesn’t get much different.

Today’s topic is brought to you by the makers of Häagen-Dazs. My wife brought home a couple of containers of their ice cream the other night, and right after dinner I was eager to dig in. The little tubs were smaller than what I was used to but I figured it was a good way to curb consumption. After the first bite however, I realized something wasn’t quite right. Or maybe it was very right. Turns out, I was enjoying the coffee flavor of Häagen-Dazs’ “cultured crème”. In other words, yogurt instead of ice cream.

Häagen-Dazs describes its new product as “a unique blend of dairy cultures that offer a smoother taste experience unlike the slightly sour flavor of traditional yogurt.” Okay, that’s a mouthful (ha). It’s a tasty mouthful but it’s also just another spin on food products with creamy consistencies. We foodies are all about “mouth feel” aren’t we?

You probably have more cream-based products in your refrigerator/freezer than you realize. Go take a look. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn you also have a can of Reddi Wip (at least you Americans), as well as a tub of sour cream, several sticks of butter, several flavors of ice cream, and whatever version of “creamer” you prefer in your coffee.

Cream itself is, of course, the higher fat layer skimmed from the top of raw milk. It’s sold in several grades depending on the butterfat content. IMHO the Canadians have the most straightforward set of descriptors, as follows:

40% milk fat: manufacturing cream (not available as retail)
33-36%: whipped cream (for topping)
15-18%: table cream (for coffee)
10%: half and half (for cereal, sauces, and soups)
3-10%: light cream (lower-fat alternative to any of the above)

Other countries complicate the matter, but often for the better. The French have their crème fraîche, which belongs in the 40% category above and makes for a nice unsweetened topping on a very sweet dessert. The Swiss produce a “double cream” that hits closer to 45% and is probably as thick as yogurt. And the Brits are famous for their “clotted cream”, which tops the milk fat charts at 45% and spreads on a scone like butter.

Whether “cream” or “crème” (or even “crema”), the word enhances the appeal of a food product. Consider cream pie versus just “pie”. Cream puff instead of just “puff”. Want a cookie, or how about a cookie with cream filling? And anything with buttercream frosting – versus just “frosting” – is more decadent. Heck, I’d even try “plant cream” if you asked me to (the vegan spin on dairy).

For my money, any product with “Häagen-Dazs” printed on the label is worth a try. Their ice cream products are the cream of their crop but it’s safe to say I’ll be buying more of their cultured crème cups. Not a bad substitute for less healthy dessert options. And just the latest entry in the crop of the cream.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #10

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

Roses are red, violets are… hang on, hang on; back up the truck. In Notre-Dame de Paris, roses are stained-glass windows. Bags 17 and 18… of 34 bags of pieces, focused almost entirely on the construction of the cathedral’s spectacular wheel-like windows. Today we worked away from the model to completely build two of the three roses, then installed them above the north and south walls of the cathedral’s transept. The LEGO versions aren’t nearly as intricate as the real windows but each one is still made up of thirty tiny pieces.

LEGO’s rose windows are necessarily simplified, but that’s not to take away from the craftsmanship of the windows in Notre-Dame de Paris. The transept roses are forty-two feet in diameter (about the width of a basketball court). The artwork of their dozens of panes of stained glass contains scenes from the life of Christ, the twelve apostles, as well as martyrs, virgins, angels, saints, and more. It’s a wonder these windows were created way back in the year 1250. It’s also a wonder they’ve lasted through wars and such, undamaged, for almost 800 years now.

Besides the rose windows, we added more structure to the rising walls of the nave today, the area on the left side of the photo covered in gray. I point this out because the sanctuary is getting more and more closed in as we anticipate more of the roof structure above. Lest I’m fooled into thinking we’re almost complete, the fact is we have another sixteen bags of pieces to go!

Running build time: 8 hrs. 58 min.

Total leftover pieces: 28

Some content sourced from the Häagen-Dazs Cultured Crème website, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Fruit of the Bloom

On Monday I noticed a lot of the wearing o’ the green because, of course, Americans celebrate St. Patrick’s Day as if we are somehow Irish. It’s a fitting burst of color as winter slowly but inevitably surrenders the seasonal baton. Soon you’ll find a full-on rainbow of blooms in every garden you pass. For now however, let’s drink and dance in honor of another bright color this week: pink. More to today’s topic, cherry pink.

If you’re tuning in from Washington D.C. you already know where I’m going with this one. Today is the first day of spring, and the beginning of the Cherry Blossom Festival in our nation’s capital: four weeks of seemingly countless opportunities to celebrate the flowering of the graceful trees on the banks of the Potomac. If you’d asked me a week ago what the bloomin’ fuss is all about, I’d have said the festival’s significance is as shallow as the water in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. But now I’m properly informed. There’s more to this story than just pretty in pink.

In the early 1900s, America and Japan were unconditionally friendly countries (years before that little dust-up in the 1940s). To acknowledge the friendship, Tokyo’s mayor shipped 3,000 Japanese cherry trees to Washington D. C. There’s a longer, more convoluted history behind this gesture, including players from both countries making repeated efforts to populate the city with trees, but the details are about as interesting as pushing a bill through Congress. Suffice it to say cherry trees were planted along the river, up and down the avenues, and in numbers worthy of an annual festival starting in the 1930s.

I love cherries; always have. I think the flavor itself appealed to me before the fruit, in the popular junk food of the 1970s. Hostess Fruit Pies. Life Savers. Slurpees from 7-11. Or the proverbial maraschino on top of an ice cream sundae. As much as I got my fill of those, I could never get my fill of my mother’s homemade cherry pie, and I mean homemade. The cherries were passed down from her mother each year, picked, jarred, and ready to go. The crust was made from scratch, including the signature latticework on top. It’s a wonder the butter wasn’t churned from the milk of a family cow.

It’s also a wonder I’ve never been to D.C.’s Blossom Festival, considering my unabashed affection for the fruit. I’m sure I’d find a couple dozen new ways to enjoy cherries besides the usuals. I’d happily scarf down a serving of flambéed Cherries Jubilee over ice cream, or the cherry-filled sponge cake of a Black Forest gateau. For the more adventurous there’s a savory Hungarian soup made with sour cherries.

Of course, there’s a lot more to the Blossom Festival than just food. You’ll find parades, concerts, and kite-flying, with every shade of pink you can imagine. Tour the historic Anderson House, filled with art and floral displays (featuring the cherry blossom, of course). Compete in a “Petals and Paddles” boat race across the tidal basin surrounded by the trees. Or get wet in “Pink in the Pool”, a family-friendly swim party replete with colorful beach balls. There’s even an “Opening Ceremony” event on the first Saturday, (already sold out by the time I checked the website). The weeks-long agenda proudly declares “events are primarily free” but I beg to differ. Tickets to the first several on the list were decidedly pricey.

For all I’ve just written, it’s a wonder the word “cherry” appears less than ten times in the hundreds of posts I’ve published on Life In A Word. One time I referred to the children’s game “Hi Ho! Cherry-O”. Another I talked about Cherry Coke. The rest were the same things I mention here – ice cream sundaes, Slurpees, and so on. So let’s add the Blossom Festival to the list, shall we? With four weeks of celebrating, it’s safe to say life is a lot more than just a bowl of cherries.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #9

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

What was once a giant box of LEGO pieces is finally starting to resemble a cathedral! Bags 15 and 16… of 34 bags of pieces, focused entirely on the body (nave) of the structure. We’re now building in the years 1220-1225, when the walls of the nave rise to the same height as the semicircular chancel at the east end.

The parishioners look rather tiny, now that we’re working so far above them. And notice all those free-standing columns from last week aren’t so free-standing anymore. We’ve capped them with structural elements to support what is still to be built up above. Also notice we’ve closed in the west end of the cathedral, which patiently awaits the addition of the soaring bell towers.

Okay, it’s time to address the elephant in the room; an elephant that gets bigger with every update. A few of you have sounded the alarm on my running count of leftover pieces. It’s a fair concern, considering the LEGO Grand Piano also started as thousands of pieces but only amounted to a handful of extras.

Here’s the truth of it: the twenty-six leftovers shown here amount to just a handful as well. Every one of them is among the tiniest pieces in the entire cathedral. It probably cost LEGO pennies to add in these “bench players”. And given the tendency of pieces to run away I’m grateful to have them. Heck, by the time the cathedral is finished maybe I’ll have enough leftovers to build a small elephant.

Running build time: 7 hrs. 57 min.

Total leftover pieces: 26

Some content sourced from the National Cherry Blossom Festival website, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Dead-Letter Danes

Denmark strikes me as a charming little country. It’s only half the size of South Carolina. The central town of Billund (pop. 7,300) is the birthplace of LEGO. The Little Mermaid – the famous waterfront bronze statue – honors the fairy tales of Danish author Hans Christian Andersen. And the Viking warriors of Denmark’s past seem like cartoon characters compared to today’s warmongers. Now let’s add another reason to admire the Danes. By the end of 2025 their postal service will no longer deliver the mail.

Imagine walking out to your mailbox, dropping down the little door, and finding… nothing. Do you really have to imagine it? I can’t remember the last time my mailbox contained anything worth putting my hands on. It’s a daily pity-party pile in there: postcard ads, clothing catalogs, and random solicitations addressed to “Resident”. Christmas, birthday, and occasional thank-you cards are about the only personal touch we’re giving USPS anymore, and I speak as a baby boomer. The younger generations click keys instead of lick stamps.

Denmark discovered the obvious. Since Y2K their personal mail volume has dropped 90%. It’s pretty much the same as removing eleven eggs from the box of twelve. You used to deliver a dozen but now you deliver just one. Denmark’s Postal Service has been around for over 400 years so understandably a few of its citizens – seniors in particular – are upset about the quit. But are they really happy to pay 29 Danish krone (about $4.20) to mail a letter somewhere within their tiny country? That cost would have me turning to email as well.

Denmark is already beginning to remove its 1,500 public mailboxes, which got me to thinking. What will the U.S. do with all of our own mailboxes when our time comes? We have tons of the free-standing blue ones, where you pull open the door and drop in a letter. By my (questionable) math, since Denmark is half the size of South Carolina, and South Carolina is only 1% of the U.S. geography, we could have over 300,000 of these dead-weights just taking up space.

And what about the mailbox in front of your house? Remove it from its stand and then what? Oversized breadbox for the kitchen? Storage for a stack of small tombstones? Garage for Mini Cooper? The odd shape of traditional mailboxes just makes you want to melt them down for scrap.

It’s time for the U.S. to get on board with mighty Denmark and stop delivering the mail. UPS, FedEx, Amazon and a host of others now command package delivery. Any bill worth paying can be settled online. And for every twenty “circulars” my wife likes to leaf through, maybe one catches her eye with something she’d want to buy.

I can’t reconcile the fact that a letter to my niece way out in Hawaii or one to my neighbor right next door costs the same to mail: $0.73 for the first-class stamp. Maybe it’s why USPS reported a loss of ten billion dollars in 2024 alone. With that much red, the cost could be 29 krone (or $4.20, remember?) and it still wouldn’t make a profit. If you ask me, removing that particular debt from the federal budget sounds as sweet as… well… a cinnamon Danish.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #8

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

Christian hymns sometimes refer to “tearing down the walls”. We were doing anything but tearing down at Notre-Dame de Paris today. Bags 12, 13, and 14… of 34 bags of pieces, had us beginning to surround the nave (the main space) with walls of stone, glass, and columns galore. The vertical construction progressed so quickly I swear I heard a parishioner cry, “Let us out! Let us out!”

Check out all those columns in the first photo. It’s like an army of soldiers took up residence in the cathedral, bracing themselves like Atlas for the weight of what is soon to be built above them. It’s a wonder the congregation can move about in the sanctuary without banging into a soldier here or there.

Today’s math lesson: multiples of seven. We built seven of this or fourteen of that, or in the case of those soldier columns, twenty-eight. And you know those Lazy Susan spinners the cake decorators use for frosting and such? I could’ve used one today since I built a little on the north wall, then switched to the south wall, then back to the north, and so on.

It’s a good thing I’m showing you the sanctuary looking down from above (feeling divine?) As you can see from the west end here – where the bell towers will soon rise – we’re already pretty well buttoned up. Settle in, all ye faithful; get comfortable. Those walls will continue to rise up around you.

Running build time: 6 hrs. 50 min.

Total leftover pieces: 26

Some content sourced from the BBC.com article, “Denmark postal service to stop delivering letters”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Eggs-asperating Prep

Every now and then I get a hankering to bake something, which nine of ten times means chocolate-chip cookies. That tenth time I’ll venture into breads or cakes but they’re usually too time-consuming for my “taste”. Thus I’ll buy a perfectly prepared croissant before I ever labor to make one on my own. Maybe the same should be said for so-called perfectly prepared eggs.

We’re all talking about eggs these days, the same way we talked about gas during the “Energy Crisis” of the late 1970s. Eggs are scarce and evermore expensive, which translates to being more choosy about how we use them at home. I like eggs for breakfast every other day and I’m not likely to change that habit on account of rising prices. My dog may have to forego the occasional scrambled egg on top of his kibble, but until I pay as much for a dozen eggs as I do to fill my gas tank, I’ll still be buying them.

What I won’t be doing is cooking my eggs any differently than I did last week or last month, even if scientists now claim the “perfect method” (their words) to do so. I prefer my eggs soft-boiled, which means a pot, some water, a $2.99 submersible egg timer from Wal*Mart, and less than ten minutes of prep after the water is boiled. It’s a quick, mindless process I can pull off even before my morning coffee.

Would you prefer a more time-consuming method instead, with only slightly better results? Okay. Take two pots of water and heat one to boiling (212 F for us Americans, 100 C for most of the rest of you) and the other pot to “lukewarm” (86 F, 30 C). Drop your eggs into the boiling water for two minutes, then transfer them to the lukewarm water for two minutes. Repeat seven more times. That’s right, seven more times. On your calculator as well as mine, that’s 32 minutes until breakfast is ready, and you’re too busy to do other stuff while you’re waiting.

If I dedicate 32 minutes to egg-making, I’m expecting something much more grand and decadent. An omelette at the least. A scramble with a load of cut-up veggies. “Benedict”, including the hollandaise sauce. Heck, I’d even don my French chef’s hat and try sous vide eggs, which are…. oh, never mind – those take an hour or more.

The second is soft-boiled; the fourth is supposedly “perfect”

The thought of “perfect” eggs in 32 minutes instead of soft-boiled in less than 10 is exasperating. If I wanted to go all science on you, I’d explain why 32-minute eggs allow the albumen and yolk to cook perfectly together, even though each has a different composition. I’d also explain why this method retains the maximum nutritional benefit of eating eggs (protein and so on). But c’mon, do you really care about those details when you’re just looking for grub to get your day started? Heck, the prep of my 10-minute eggs even allows me to feed the dog and clean up last night’s dishes while I wait.

The “perfect eggs” news article is interesting enough but I had to laugh when the writer inserted the standard “… be forewarned that consuming raw or undercooked eggs may increase your risk of foodborn illness”…” Wait, I thought these eggs were perfectly cooked. Now you’re hinting the process may cause food poisoning? Sorry Mr. Scientist, I’ll stick to my $2.99 Wal*Mart egg timer method instead.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #7

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

Maybe LEGO’s engineers got impatient with the construction of the east-end chancel of Notre-Dame de Paris, because Bags 10 and 11… of 34 bags of pieces, laid out the rest of the foundation of the entire cathedral. Indeed, when we finished today’s rather brisk build (24 minutes!) we put down enough marble to allow the capacity 1,500 parishioners to “take a pew”.

24 minutes was barely a French coffee break back in the day when Notre-Dame was actually built. In fact, we’re now twenty years into the construction: AD 1182. With the chancel complete enough to host church services, we’ll spend the next twenty years (or rather, the builders did) rising the transcept (the “cross” bar, remember?) and first bays of the nave (the cross “long” bar).

Speaking of “bars”, note that I added LEGO’s signature “title bar” to the near edge of the model today (photo below). LEGO wants you to know what cathedral you’re looking at, even though I’m teaching you enough detail so you won’t need a title bar. But don’t be fooled; you won’t find a title bar in the foundation of the real Notre-Dame de Paris.

Today’s build was quick but not without the usual antics. Once again I installed a piece incorrectly – a tiny bit of marble. Once again I reached for the LEGO lever but it couldn’t lever out this kind of piece. So I resorted to my paper clip “crowbar” instead and ZING!!! – the piece went flying across the room and ricocheted (another word with French roots – nice, no?) off the wall. Good thing I managed to find it or several of Notre-Dame’s parishioners would trip on their way out.

Running build time: 5 hrs. 56 min.

Total leftover pieces: 24

Some content sourced from the CNN Science article, “Scientists developed a new method for the perfect boiled egg…”.

Tucked-Away Place to Pray

In trying economic times like these, it wouldn’t surprise me to hear about people using credit cards to pay their bills. After all, when you have more month at the end of the money you do what you must to stay above water. But it’s a bit of a fool’s game isn’t it, creating one debt to eliminate another? Its what we call robbing Peter to pay Paul. And speaking of the Christian apostles, let’s talk about robbing John to pay Peter.

As promised when I began construction of the LEGO model of Notre-Dame de Paris last month (read about how I started this project in Highest Chair), I’d like to pay homage to a few of the world’s prominent cathedrals along the way. These magnificent structures are places of worship at heart but oh-so-much more besides. Each can be completely different in look and location. My goal here is to not have you walk away from Notre-Dame thinking “seen one, seen them all”.

What better place to start than at the most significant cathedral in the world? I’ll give you three hints. It’s located in the middle of Rome. It serves as the seat of Rome’s bishop (who just happens to be Pope Francis). And it’s named for one of the most influential figures in the Bible. Okay, time’s up, let’s have it. Did you guess St. Peter’s?

If St. Peter’s was your guess, you’d be… incorrect, and in fact, incorrect three times over. The St. Peter’s you’re thinking of – the “largest and greatest” church in the world – is not even a cathedral (but merely a basilica). St. Peter’s is not even in Rome, since the Vatican is technically its own country. Finally, St. Peter’s is not the seat of the pope (or any other bishop), even though Francis does live close by. Instead, the award for most significant cathedral goes to Saint John Lateran.

The Lateran cathedral is about a 5K jog from St. Peter’s Square. In fact, if you were to make the walk from one church to the other you’d pass by several of Rome’s highlights. The Pantheon. The Trevi Fountain. Piazza Venezia. The Forum. The Colosseum. Eventually you’d be standing in front of the imposing facade you see above.

Click the photo to see the tiny tourists!

Saint John Lateran is old – even by Rome’s standards – first established in the mid-300s. It sits on the site of the former Lateran family palace. The cathedral survived several fires, earthquakes, and periods of deterioration, eventually retreating into the shadow of the grander St. Peter’s. In the 1700s the Lateran received a complete overhaul, including the facade you see today. But it has always served as the cathedral of Rome. In fact, a plaque near its ancient bronze doors deems (in Latin): “… mother and head of all churches in the city and the world.”

Like Notre-Dame de Paris, the Lateran boasts a lot more than just the structure itself. Giant statues of the twelve apostles line the interior of the sanctuary. Six popes are buried here. The ancient Egyptian obelisk in front of the church is the world’s tallest. Finally, the Lateran claims to have hosted significant relics of Christianity over its many years, including the Ark of the Covenant, the wooden table where Jesus hosted the Last Supper, and (for the less faint of heart) the skulls of St. Peter and St. Paul.

It goes without saying; a trip to Rome isn’t complete without a visit to St. Peter’s and its surrounds. The sheer size and elegance of the basilica is unparalleled and worth several hours (if not days) of your time. But now you know; Saint John Lateran also deserves your attention. It’d be a shame to travel all the way to Italy and back without claiminng a visit to the most significant cathedral in the world.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #6

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

The model-building word of the day, boys and girls, is structure. Bag 9… of 34 bags of pieces, brought us face-to-face with the finished look of Notre-Dame de Paris’s iconic flying buttresses, installed carefully around the walls of the cathedral’s east end. Most of those “pasta bits” I showed you in our last visit amounted to fourteen (or about half) of the cathedral’s buttresses. They look like tiny cannons, don’t they?

Remember, the structural support of this cathedral is on the exterior, allowing for tall, thin walls, and more uninterrupted open space inside. Someone could come up with the ten coolest structural elements for buildings and I’d have buttresses “fly” to the top of the list.

If Notre-Dame’s parishioners felt a sudden sense of security and stability, it’s because the giant hand of Dave was buttressing the very walls around them as they worshiped. And if these structural elements aren’t elegant enough, they also house horizontal pipes to drain the water from the cathedral roof.

I keep referring to the cathedral’s “east end”, but now that we’re starting to see the finished product we should use proper terms for church architecture. We’ve effectively completed the chancel, which is the altar and surrounds to the east of the transept. Picture a giant Christian cross laying on the ground. The top of the cross is the chancel and the crossbar is the transept. The lower length of the cross, where most of the parishioners sit, is the nave. At the very bottom of the nave will be the bell towers.

Today’s build was not without its adventures. A small black piece escaped to my home office floor early on, prompting a prolonged hands-and-knees search. I swear I heard the piece clatter to the floor yet neither hands nor knees made the encounter. I was perplexed. Finally, with the aid of my handy-dandy iPhone flashlight, I found the crafty little devil way, way back in the dark central recess of my desk. This little guy was clearly making a move to freedom. Sorry, bud; it’s time to come home.

Finally, I thought the adjacent photo was worth including. Pretty much every single LEGO piece of Notre-Dame de Paris is unique in size and shape. Except this one. How does a singular “trademark” LEGO block end up amongst thousands of irregular pieces? Sadly, this piece was installed one level below the dark gray roof line of the chancel, which means you’ll never see it in the finished product. So I figured it deserved its moment of glory here instead.

Running build time: 5 hrs. 32 min.

Total leftover pieces: 23

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

(Not) Making Cents

The other day when I drove into town I felt a sneeze coming on, so I reached into my car’s pull-out coin drawer and grabbed a handkerchief. If I’d wanted a breath mint for my mouth or an eye drop for my contacts I’d reach into the same place. But I wouldn’t find quarters, dimes, nickels, or pennies anywhere in there. Come to think of it, someday soon I won’t find pennies anywhere at all.

You probably caught the headline in your news feed. The population growth of U.S. pennies is about to come to a grinding halt. Our country will no longer mint shiny new “Lincolns” for the first time since their debut in 1787. Two hundred years and change (ha) is a darned good run for a coin but the penny appears to have been done in by compelling arguments. One, the production cost is three times the face value. And two – and perhaps most humiliating – the penny’s face value has descended into, well, obsolescence.

There was a time not so long ago when I wouldn’t pass up a lost penny lying in the street. In addition to “free money” there was the old adage find a penny pick it up, and all day long you’ll have good luck. Today you’d better settle for just the luck because you can’t buy anything for pennies anymore. You’d be better off using them for more practical purposes like checking your tire tread depth or turning screws. My brother and his wife turned thousands of their pennies into a beautiful, copper-colored floor for their kitchen.

Speaking of copper (I’m easily distracted today) I had no idea pennies are no longer made of copper. They’re primarily zinc because of the rising cost of metals (yet they still cost three cents apiece?) You’d assume quarters, dimes, and nickels were made from an alloy of silver, lead, or aluminum, but – go figure – those coins are primarily copper.

Enough with the facts. I’m bummed to see the penny put out to pasture. Along with it goes a ton of childhood memories. You could roll pennies into coin wrappers and enjoy the thrill of exchanging the whole lot for paper bills at the bank. You could drop them into handheld banks for untold savings (and my banks were delightfully mechanical). Finally, you could walk into any 7-Eleven or drug store, hit the candy aisle, and find several “penny candy” choices. A chunk of Bazooka bubble gum, hard candies, or licorice whips could be purchased for just a few cents back then.

Practically speaking I’m on board with the penny’s retirement, because I can’t recall the last time I involved a cent in a financial transaction. If something costs $9.99, are you telling me you’d reach into your pocket and pay the $9.99 in cash and coin? Nope, you’d more likely hand over a ten-dollar bill and then what happens? You get a penny in return. What are you supposed to do with that?

Certain sayings will have to head out to pasture as well. An expensive item can no longer be described as “a pretty penny”. “A penny saved is a penny earned” literally has no value. A frugal person should now be described as a “quarter-pincher” (in case the nickel and dime are also on life support). And “pennies from heaven” certainly don’t describe good fortune anymore, even if the song of the same name will continue to be sung.

For my money, I hope car manufacturers continue to include coin drawers in their dashboards. I keep important things in there and I’d prefer not to change my ways. Then again maybe I should keep a few pennies in the drawer, if only for my childhood memories. Those will always have value.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #5

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

I decided to have my lunch today while working through Bag 8… of 34 bags of pieces. That was a mistake. I reached for a LEGO piece, grabbed a little block of cheese instead, and Notre-Dame de Paris almost had cheddar in its walls. I immediately vowed food would go nowhere near the assembly ever again. It’s unnerving enough putting in the real pieces.

As I worked on the uppermost level you see here I used a little too much force, and a piece in the level below loosened and scampered down into the sanctuary. I shook, rattled, and rolled the entire cathedral trying to get it out but to now avail. Just before admitting defeat, the little devil finally emerged (he must’ve gone to confession). And here’s where I learned an unnerving truth: re-assembling pieces long after you’re supposed to can be near impossible. I had to tear down an entire wall to get the piece back in place. We’re working in close quarters here, people.

Today is also a good chapter to point out the tool to the right. It’s a “LEGO lever” (my words), designed to easily remove a piece from a place it wasn’t meant to go. I didn’t need my lever through the first seven bags, but today? Half a dozen times. My mind’s eye was off just a hair and I kept assembling pieces a quarter or half-inch off from where they were supposed to go. LEGO lever = life saver.

Bag 8 started slow and repetitious but finished grand and confident. In fact, I was so full of myself after the mere forty-five minutes of construction, I boldly plunged into Bag 9. Mistake. I mean, look at the pieces in this photo! Are these LEGOs or the little bits of pasta you find in your chicken soup? Seriously, we may be almost a quarter of the way through the bag count but the pieces are shrinking. Some Sunday soon the parishioners will look to the heavens and be burned by the giant magnifying glass above them.

Running build time: 4 hrs. 22 min.

Total leftover pieces: 17

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Trump instructs Treasury to halt penny production”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Adventures in Library-ing

Early each calendar year I look back on the previous year’s expenses to discover areas in the family budget where I can trim. The price of food, gasoline, and other “have-to-have’s” always seems to go up, so I search for items that are not so “have-to-have” to balance things out. A good example is books. I read two or three a month on my Kindle e-Reader. At say, $14.99 a pop that’d be over $500 I could carve out of annual expenses… if I could only get those same books at no cost. But where-oh-where could I possibly find books for free?

You bibliophiles out there (and the rest of you, for that matter) are laughing as I’m about to describe going to the library as an adventure, but here’s the thing. I’ve been e-reading on my Amazon Kindle for so long that the idea of holding a book and turning its pages – let alone checking one out of a library – has become, well, novel again.

I wouldn’t have reached this crossroads were it not for a particular book. Amazon described Frank Delaney’s The Matchmaker of Kenmare just the way I’d hope: an intriguing WWII-era work of fiction. So I went to “try a sample”(where Amazon allows you the first several pages of the book for free) and – horror of horrors – it’s not available in digital format. WHAT? No e-Version? You’re saying, Amazon, I have to shell out $24.99 for the hard copy if I want to read it?

A book for $10 doesn’t make me pause but one for $25 sure does. Hence began my library adventure. The last time I spent meaningful time in one was in college (and I don’t want to tell you how long ago that was). The library experience is probably different in every way now, starting online. When I “checked out” my library’s website (ha) I discovered I could get a digital library card almost immediately. With the digital card I could reserve and check out books from the comfort of my home computer. Hurrah, free books here I come!

Oh how I wish it were that easy. Turns out, my library’s software is not compatible with an Amazon Kindle. No digital books for me, sigh. And besides, physical books – like the one I wanted – require a physical library card. So with no other excuse to avoid it, I got in my car and headed off to my local branch. Guess what? Parking at the library is free. Entering the building itself is free (no cover charge!). Getting a library card is free. Even the library bathrooms can be used without having to check out a book first.

Yes, this is my tax dollars at work of course, but the illusion of all this free stuff is fun while it lasts. And boy howdy, libraries aren’t what they used to be. Ours has all these rooms and services and people, as if the surrounding shelves of books are merely a carry-over from past generations. You can sit down to public-access computers, attend a lecture, host a meeting, rent DVDs, buy coffee, and even spend time in a room of books dedicated to the history of the surrounding county. Maybe this is all review for you, but it’s a little overwhelming for an e-reader who’s navigating libraries of the new world.

Our secondary (and ancient) library branch

There’s more to this adventure in library-ing than I have time for today (including the over-the-river and through-the woods visit to a different and decidedly ancient branch in my library’s network), but let’s close the book on this topic with a “laugh’s on me” conclusion. As I was researching for this blog post I went to the Amazon page for my Matchmaker… novel again. Go figure; it’s available in digital format after all, and even in paperback. How did I miss these options the first time around? Must be the library gods telling me to go old-school and get a physical copy for free.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #4

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

Click the photo for a more detailed view

As Notre-Dame de Paris rises slowly from its foundations, I often picture a congregation of parishioners down there at ground level, sitting quietly in the pews. Startled by the snap of a LEGO block above them, they gaze skyward, see my giant fingers, and wonder, “OMG is that the hand of God?” No, no, little ones, it’s just Dave, working through Bag 7… of 34 bags of pieces.

Today almost included the long-awaited moment where I realize with mock horror that LEGO left a piece out of one of their model sets. I churned through my piles of pieces, endlessly stirring and turning them over and over, but to no avail. A piece was missing, and that sick-to-your-stomach feeling settled in deep, the way you reach the end of a jigsaw puzzle minus one piece. Then, to my utter amazement, I spied it out of the corner of my eye. The tiny traitor was still in Bag 7. Wow. Good thing that plastic bag wasn’t already relegated to the trash, huh?

On the other hand, with more excitement than it probably deserved, today we began construction of Notre-Dame’s signature flying buttresses. At first I was disappointed in the LEGO pieces, because I thought they looked a little, well, “underfed”. Then I remembered; we’re only beginning the structure of the buttresses. The finished look you see on the outside of Notre-Dame is supported by a complex of arches and columns well below it. Here I thought my “God’s hand” was already working at roof level but in fact, we’re only about halfway up the structure.

Running build time: 3 hrs. 32 min.

Total leftover pieces: 16

Mind Your Mannerisms!

My late father had a habit I always admired. He’d send personal notes of thanks to those he felt deserved his gratitude. His notes were not smartphone texts, emails, or Word documents. They were handwritten sentiments on heavy card stock, his name elegantly embossed across the top. Why did these notes capture my admiration? Because I’ve forgotten how to write them myself. Or more to the point, I’ve forgotten how to write.

America’s Common Core Standards – the guidelines by which most states create curriculums for school grades 1-12 – no longer include cursive writing. Students still learn to write block letters, but the flowing, looping mannerism of cursive has pretty much been left behind. Instead, typing is more Common Core, and probably taught in a grade much sooner than my own middle school years. Frankly, the only remaining argument in favor of cursive writing might be for the signature of one’s name.

Even handwritten signatures have fallen by the wayside. Ever heard of an Autopen? It’s a mechanical hand, designed to hold a pen and duplicate one’s signature over and over. The Autopen is popular with politicians who want their handwritten signature on countless memos and letters, but without the added task of actually signing them.

I have a sort of Autopen myself but it’s more of a stamp. I sent my handwritten signature to a company and a few weeks later I received a stamp in return. When used with just the right amount of pressure it’s the spittin’ image of the one I’d sign with my own hand. It’s something of a writing “crutch”.

The hard truth is, over the years my cursive has devolved from “Dave, you have beautiful handwriting” to “Uh, what is that supposed to say?” I can’t even read my own writing anymore. To add to this misery my hands shake a little, which means my formerly elegant loops and curls are now jiggly, scribbly lines. Filling out the tip, the total, and the signature on a restaurant receipt is now a legitimate challenge in legibility.

It didn’t occur to me until recently that my illegible handwriting is simply the product of no longer writing by hand. I’ve always believed this degradation was the result of aging fingers, hands, and the associated muscles required for cursive writing. To a certain extent this is true. But more importantly, my writing muscles just don’t remember what to do anymore.

The first day I walked into typing class was likely the first day my cursive writing went downhill. The manual typewriter, followed by the electric typewriter, followed years later by the computer keyboard ensured I could create quick and perfectly legible documents in myriad fonts. Cursive writers average only 13 words a minute. Typists? 40, 60, sometimes as many as 80 words a minute.

But the pursuit of writing efficiency comes at a somewhat alarming cost. You lose the connection between mind and matter. Cursive writing is slow-w-w, which translates to more focus on what you are writing about as you form the letters. Typing feels more like a sprint to the finish, to get your thoughts through the keyboard as quickly as possible. Think of cursive as “in your own words”, while typing is “verbatim”.

Here’s an interesting experiment for you bloggers to consider. Write your next post in cursive before you take to the keyboard. See if your “voice” doesn’t sound a little more thoughtful than the one from the keyboard. Now here’s an experiment for me. What if I were to spend ten minutes a day trying to restore my handwriting? Would it eventually be described as “beautiful” once again?

Side note: I’ve somehow retained the dexterity of playing the piano, even though I don’t sit down to the keyboard very often. I’ve noticed my fingers hover over the piano the same way they do over the computer keyboard. Maybe this is muscle memory at work, no matter what the fingers are doing?

Someday it wouldn’t surprise me to see a famous quote, penned in beautiful flowing cursive, framed and displayed as artwork in a museum. The piece would bring us back to simpler days, back to the times when a physical hand put deep thoughts on physical paper. Of course, the question then would be, will anybody still be able to read cursive?

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #3

(Read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

There were moments in the build today where I would’ve preferred to be laboring on the real cathedral. Bags 4, 5, and 6 – of 34 bags of pieces – were loaded with some of the tiniest pieces I’ve ever seen in a LEGO set. As I spilled out one of the bags a determined little square tile dashed away to the deep, dark recesses underneath my desk. If it weren’t for my phone’s flashlight I might never have rescued him.

The east end of the sanctuary (and altar beyond)

We built a lot of round, structural columns today. I’ve never seen a step in a LEGO instruction manual asking for 48 identical pieces, but there I was, stacking them in my hand as I counted, “33, 34, 35…”. Those 48 pieces assembled to the 24 columns you kind-of sort-of see here.

The altar from above (before this is all covered up!)

We also reinforced, filled in, and rose to new heights the curving east end of the cathedral. This assembly brought new levels of frustration, in that the installation of some pieces caused others to promptly dislodge. Indeed, at one point a very tiny piece skittered onto the floor of the cathedral (hidden within those 24 columns) and the only way to get him out was to rock the whole assembly back and forth in my hands the way you would a marble maze.

I need to do a better job of taking photos as I build, because the fruits of my labor are already being covered up by the higher structure of the cathedral. Maybe it was no different with the artisans of the real Notre-Dame de Paris, who crafted in very small spaces knowing almost no one would ever see the detail of their work. At least I have a camera. Back then they’d have to make a painting of what they created just to show off their accomplishments!

Running build time: 2 hrs. 50 min.

Total leftover pieces: 11 (!)

Some content sourced from The Guardian article, “Signature moves: are we losing the ability to write by hand?”

Pride, Pomp, and Circumstance

I managed to get through high school literature class without having to wrestle with Shakespeare, not even once. To me, Romeo and Juliet are simply characters from a movie I’ve never seen. Hamlet is another name for a small village. Othello is a board game I played as a teenager. But hey, maybe I should be a fan of Shakespeare. After all, he gets the credit for penning the phrase “pomp and circumstance”.

It’s true – “Pride, pomp, and circumstance (of glorious war!)” is a line from Shakespeare’s play Othello, written way back in 1603. Somewhere in the hundreds of years since, “Pomp and circumstance” became the name of the musical march we all associate with graduation ceremonies. But for today’s purposes, pomp and circumstance (or “P&C” if you will) means “formal and impressive ceremonies or activities”. And Monday’s presidential inauguration ceremony was the perfect example of that.

I am a big fan of American P&C. Without it the inauguration ceremony would’ve been nothing but mundane repeat-after-me oaths. With it you get your heart fill-er-upped with pride. Monday’s ceremony was replete with red, white, and blue decor. American flags were everywhere. The guests of honor were escorted to their seats by men and women in splendid uniforms. The cannons nearby boomed over and over when the oaths were completed. And for my American dollars, nothing says pomp and circumstance like those patriotic anthems.

Having spent most of my years in Colorado Springs, “America the Beautiful” is close to my heart because its lyrics were born from the top of nearby Pikes Peak. All credit to Carrie Underwood for her performance of its first verse on Monday, enduring technical difficulties to sing a cappella. Then there was the charismatic Rev. Lorenzo Sewell, embellishing his prayer of gratitude with the opening lines of “My Country Tis of Thee”. And you’d be forgiven for shedding a tear during the soaring “Battle Hymn of the Republic”, belted out by the men and women of the U.S. Naval Academy Glee Club (and earning a standing ovation).

But I’m forgetting one more anthem. Or should I say, I can’t forget the one more. Yes, Christopher Dean Macchio (“America’s tenor”) sang “The Star Spangled Banner” to close out the inauguration ceremony, but he also performed another anthem to kick things off and I’m still humming it today. Why, I ask myself, have I never heard “O, America” before?

“O, America” – go figure – was written by an Irishman. Brendan Graham penned the lyrics into a big hit for the group “Celtic Woman”. You’d think the words would be from the perspective of someone overseas but “O, America” is clearly about someone here… and someone now. Have a listen and I think you’ll agree. In the words of Othello, “O, America” is all about “pride, pomp, and circumstance”. This week I am filled with all three.

LEGO Notre-Dame de Paris – Update #2

(read about the start of this “church service” in Highest Chair)

I’m glad I remembered my antiperspirant today. Bags 2 and 3 – of 34 bags of pieces – encouraged sweat, tested patience, and made me realize my fingers are anything but nimble. My hands are still shaking after the hour and change it took to build this section.

We started by tiling the cathedral floor. Look closely – those black and white pieces aren’t all the same shape or orientation. I installed one wrong and almost needed pliers to get it back out. Imagine if you made the same mistake on the floor of the real Notre-Dame. You’d get fired for wasting priceless marble!

Having said that, the floor was just a warm up for the colonnade that now rises up around the altar. It is made from tiny, tiny pieces! I think LEGO should invent special gloves that a) allow you to easily grasp these little guys while b) protecting your fingers from their sharp edges. Pressing them into place again and again can be painful! Those beige column supports you see on the tile floor left little round dents in my fingertips.

Finally, notice the repetitive structure of the colonnade, like a circle of rocket ships ready to launch. LEGO shows you how to build one of these vertical elements (each one is about twenty pieces) and then goes, “Okay Dave, do that fourteen more times”. The Grand Piano was also tough but I wouldn’t say it was repetitive. Notre-Dame de Paris has found a new way to test my patience.

Running build time: 1 hour 37 min.

Total leftover pieces: 5

Some content sourced from the Irish Central article, “Irishman’s song ‘O America’ performed at Trump’s inauguration”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.