culture – Life In A Word

When I’m Sixty-Four

We’ve reached the time of year when we abide by an unwritten rule: It’s no longer appropriate to say Happy New Year! We’re well past the first week of 2026 so quit thinking the year is still “new” already. On the other hand, it’s entirely appropriate to say Happy Birthday! Today happens to be the birthday of yours truly, as it has been for the past sixty-four years. I now find myself squarely between “Early Sixties” and “Medicare Eligible”, which sparks a wide variety of thoughts. Including a song by The Beatles.

Here’s a contradiction I wrestle with every birthday. I am celebrating 64 years but it’s actually my 65th birthday. If you don’t count the very first one (when you turn “0”) you’re effectively removing the first year of your life from the equation. 64 equals sixty-four years of my existence. But 64 also means my sixty-fifth birthday. Get it? I didn’t think so.

Birthday are traditionally celebrated with presents and cake, and both made their appearance yet again this year. I keep telling my wife and kids no presents, because in our sixties we finally learn we have almost everything we need (and need almost nothing we have). On the other hand, I will never turn down birthday cake, especially when the choice of flavor is mine to make. German chocolate – heavy on the coconut if you please.

My birthday is also the perfect reason to recall my late father. He was born the very next day (well, the very next day thirty-three years before). If my mother could’ve held on for another couple of hours Dad and I would’ve shared the same birthday. Not that I ever blamed her for choosing January 22nd. I’m sure the last thing she cared about back then was the clock. But at least she got a kind of two-fer in that Dad and I celebrated our birthdays together every year.

Our financial advisor makes a nice birthday gesture every year with the colorful assortment you see here. These beautiful chocolates – handcrafted by Florida-based Norman Love Confections – are too pretty to eat. Having said that I can assure you the entire box will be empty by early February. Yes I realize this “gift” is really just me buying myself a birthday present, since it comes out of the profits of my own investments. But at least there are profits…

My birthday is also a reminder I fall under the sign of Aquarius (barely). An Aquarius is described as intellectual, independent, and humanitarian. I happily embrace all three even if I regularly fall short in all three as well. On the other hand, Aquarius is the water-bearer. In the thirty-odd years my wife and I have been homeowners we’ve been plagued with every form of water disaster imaginable. Drips, leaks, mold, flooded basements, overflowing retention ponds – you name it. Would it surprise you to know an ice storm is headed our way in the next few days?

Finally we have The Beatles; or at least, Paul McCartney. McCartney, who turned 83 last June, wrote the merry tune When I’m Sixty Four when he was only fourteen. The lyrics include musings about his life fifty years on, but really the song’s just a silly rant about a time he couldn’t possibly foretell. (At least he thought to include “Dave” in the lyrics.) If I could meet McCartney in person I’d love to ask him, Hey, was it really like the song suggested nineteen years ago? Even if it wasn’t I’ll bet he’d take age sixty-four back in a heartbeat.

We make wishes when we blow out birthday candles (even at my post-middle-pre-senior age). Such was the case again this year on top of my German chocolate cake. What did I wish for? I’ll never tell, at least not unless the wish comes true. But I will admit to one distraction while I was huffing and snuffing those candles. There were only sixty-four on my cake. I’m thinking there should’ve been sixty-five.

Worthless Wardrobe Boxes

I’ve always liked the play on words of Men’s Wearhouse. If you’re familiar with MW you know they cover more ground than just formal wear. They’ve set aside an area for tuxedos and such, but they have other sections for dress shirts, accessories, and even shoes. It’s like walking through a miniature department store… which is probably why MW is destined for the dust bin sometime in the coming year.

Just eighteen months after Saks Fifth Avenue acquired bankrupt Neiman-Marcus (for the “bargain” price of $2.65 billion) Saks itself filed for bankruptcy; just yesterday. The 2024 merger of these big-box luxury retailers (which included Bergdorf Goodman) never really came to fruition. Chalk it up to biting off more than they could chew, or more likely to the impact of the changing habits of consumers. Today’s shoppers want smaller, more specific brick-and-mortar options; that is, whenever they can drag themselves away from online purchasing.

The shuttering of department stores is not limited to the high-end verions, of course. Macy’s is in the process of closing 150 “underperforming locations”. JC Penny, Kohl’s, and Marshall’s are closing outlets here and there. Even Carter’s, the popular option for children’s clothing, is calling it quits on 150 locations. And Sears, which had almost 3,000 locations just fifteen years ago, is down to a mere five. Frankly, I didn’t know Sears had any locations anymore.

Sears (or the Sears, Roebuck and Co I remember as a child) was my family’s go-to-department store for just about anything. My brothers and I were outfitted in Sears-brand clothing. My mother purchased all kinds of items for her kitchen. My father built up his workshop with dozens of Craftsman tools. And of course, the Sears catalog was not only a kid’s dream-book of Christmas wishes, but its arrival in the mailbox was a sign Santa was on his way… not to your house but to the toy department at Sears.

Like many other things in the States, department stores were based on the originals in Europe. Harrods of London has been around since 1849 and boasts of 1,100,000 square feet of selling space, making it the largest department store on the continent. Paris hosts several stores I’ve never heard of yet many have been around as long as Harrods. And Australia’s David Jones is considered the world’s longest continuously operating department store (since 1838!)

As you read this post – and if you’re Millennial or older – I’m sure a department store of your own experience comes to mind. Towards the East Coast: Gimbels, Hudson’s, or Wanamaker’s. Towards the West: May Company, Bullock’s, or Robinson’s. In Chicago alone: Marshall Field’s, Carson Pirie Scott, or Wieboldt’s. In Canada: Eaton’s. The list is endless, even as most of them are downsizing or closing altogether.

In deference to my former department store habits, I also prefer more specific retail these days. My shoes come from shoe stores. My shirts come from stores of particular name brands. But with shopping malls closing along with their aforementioned “anchors”, my stores of choice are now stand-alones or in outlet malls. Now that I think about it, outlet malls are kind of like outdoor department stores, aren’t they?

I may be nostalgic for the department stores of my past, but I certainly understand why the concept has come and is about to be gone. We have more convenient, more tailored options these days. Which has me wondering about supermarkets. Supermarkets are also under the threat of the changing habits of consumers. No, I don’t expect a return to those wonderful merchant-driven street markets you find all over Europe. But we are getting more comfortable with placing orders ahead of time and having groceries delivered to our car or front door. In other words, enjoy shopping in “food warehouses” while you still can, because department stores are about to become nothing more than worthless wardrobe boxes.

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Saks Global files for bankruptcy protection…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Fill ‘er Up

Several years ago at a banquet, I stood at the podium to introduce the evening’s guest speaker. After sharing some of her background and accomplishments, I went with the expected, “So without further ado, please welcome”…, and then I paused. And paused some more. I’d forgotten the speaker’s name. The silence, as the saying goes, was deafening. Eventually I found her name in my notes, but not without an uncomfortable gap in my speech. Perhaps a filler word would’ve smoothed things over.

Do you use filler words? Actually, let’s make that question a statement. You use filler words. Every now and then in conversation you’ll throw in the occasional “uh”, “like”, or “so”. Filler words do exactly what their label implies: they fill up the awkward gap of silence created by a pause. Every one of us can recall an experience where we’ve left out filler words in a vain attempt to keep the polish on our speech, but it’s a no-win situation. If you go with the pause your audience looks at each other with one of those Is he okay? glances. If you go with a filler word you’re hinting you’re not completely on top of your material.

The parade of filler words is much longer than the commoners I mentioned above. The filler “uh” comes from its own family, including “um”, “oh”, “er”, and “ah”; tiny signs of reluctance to say whatever comes next. And speaking of next, how about “very”, “really”, and “highly”? These three are fillers disguised as words of emphasis but are usually superfluous. Then we have “You know…” and “You see…”, which seem to politely draw the listener into the conversation. But sorry, they’re also fillers, allowing a pause at the start of a thought. Finally (as if there’s an end to this parade), let’s add “I guess” and “I suppose”, both designed to soften a response when what you should go with instead is a confident “yes” or “no”.

I deliberately skipped one filler here because it deserves it’s own parade. “Like” sprinted to the front and center of casual English in the last couple of generations, taking up a lot of the spaces “uh” and his pals used to fill. Some people use “like” so often it starts to feel like every other word they’re saying. But make no mistake – every “like” is simply a mini-pause to allow the speaker to reboot their thoughts.

Watch out, because filler words can be contagious. I used to work for a company where it seemed every one of my teammates couldn’t start a sentence without the word “So”. Somehow “so” sounds a little smoother than “uh” but it’s basically the same filler. Before I knew it I caught myself also using “so”, as if it was the only way to start a sentence. At least “so” has a built-in bonus: you can drag it out for drama. So-o-o-o-o…

Filler words somehow sound better with a foreign accent. The Irish “um” sounds like the more pleasing ehm. Even throwing in a bunch of “you knows” in the Irish accent seems to work. And speaking of accents, Hollywood (or maybe just Los Angeles) brought us Valley Girl talk, which includes a weird form of attitude along with its own set of meaningless filler words like “totally”, “whatever”, and “as if” (think Cher from Clueless). Valley Girl talk has had a remarkable run considering its roots were in the 1980s. You still hear the words today.

The next time you call out a friend with Hello? Is anybody home? for not paying attention, consider they’re trying to avoid filler words by simply not saying anything. That’s harder to do than it sounds. Try speaking for a few minutes without filler words. It’s so difficult it’s birthed a string of funny videos on TikTok. As for me, I’ll keep using my fillers wherever I need them. Especially when I forget the name of a guest speaker.

Some content sourced from the CNN Health article, “Should you stop saying ‘um’? Here’s what the experts said”.

A Triumph in Travertine

LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #8

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

A little over two months ago we set out to do the impossible: construct one of the world’s great fountains in time for Christmas. Today, a day before our self-imposed deadline we put the very last piece of travertine in place. Okay, so this Trevi Fountain is made of LEGO and we’re nowhere near Rome but still, we’ve had a nice little adventure from start to finish.

As is the case with many of LEGO’s models, the final pieces are meant for flourishes and ornamentation. Bag 14 – of 15 bags of pieces – focused entirely on the top center structure you see here. Everything was completed in a cool 23 minutes, finished off by the careful placement of those four tiny statues.

Today’s musical accompaniment was fitting. I chose Gabriel’s Oboe, a short but beautiful instrumental some of you may recognize from Amy Grant’s “A Christmas to Remember” album. It was actually written by Ennio Morricone for the movie The Mission. I listened to it twice. Then I went with Luigi Boccherini’s Minuet from his String Quintet in E Major, which some of you may also recognize from movie scores. I listened to it thrice. Finally, I concluded with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons (though of course, only with the “Winter” movement).

Bag 15 – the final bag of Trevi LEGO pieces – was an adventure from the get-go. Thirty seconds after spilling the pieces onto the counter I heard a tiny “tap tap tap” on the kitchen floor, the exact sound of a LEGO piece skittering away. Sure enough, way over by the frig, the little guy was standing there looking up at me with a devilish grin. He’d rolled way, way across my kitchen counter and dropped to the floor before attempting his escape. Again with the runaway pieces, sigh…

The statuary of the Trevi is impressive and the LEGO equivalent is kind of fun. If you look carefully in the piles of pieces above you can see hairpieces, torsos, and horse heads. Fully assembled and installed, it’s quite the collection of humans and animals in and among the rushing waters.

Finally, here’s an interesting coincidence of timing. In just over a month – for the first time in its history – you’ll have to pay $2 to see the Trevi up close. The fee is designed to reduce the overwhelming flow of tourists in front of the fountain. A fee just to see a fountain may sound nit-picky but a trial run showed it works well to reduce the chaos. Trust me: pay the $2, spend as much time front and center as they’ll allow you, and gaze upon one of the sculptured marvels of Ancient Rome. I think you’ll agree; the Trevi Fountain is a triumph in travertine.

Running build time: 7 hr. 48 min.

Total leftover pieces: 44

Caffè Companions

My wife made a batch of rolled sugar cookies last week, cut into traditional Christmas shapes like bells, wreaths, and stockings. It’s the first time in a long time for these cookies, inspired by the assistance of our young and attentive granddaughters. Though the cookies never donned their frosted/decorated costumes, they sure tasted great all by themselves. Kind of like the biscotti I’m giving up in 2026.

Are you a fan of biscotti? They’re the small, oblong cookies that resemble tiny slices of sourdough bread. They’re hard and dry, with just a smattering of almonds or almond extract for extra flavor. Biscotti are meant to accompany a drink, just as two of them do every morning with my coffee. Biscotti ward off the nausea I feel when I down my vitamins on nothing but a cup of joe. Nice excuse for daily cookies, eh?

When the calculator (which doesn’t lie) reveals you ate over seven hundred biscotti over the course of 2025, you quickly come to your senses and declare a resolution for the coming New Year: Shift biscotti from “habit” to “occasional treat”. Yep, it’s time to cut down on carbs.

Before we seal the lid on the cookie jar however, biscotti deserve a little more attention to set the record straight. First and foremost, the pint-sized pastries I consume with my morning caffè are not technically biscotti; they’re cantucci. Cantucci contain ingredients like milk, butter, and flavorings, none of which are found in an authentic Italian recipe for biscotti.

Here’s another distinction. Biscotti were never meant to be partnered with coffee. They were (and still are) served alongside a glass of sweet wine as a light Italian dessert. Americans pair cantucci with cappuccino at upper-crust hotels and coffeehouses. You’re supposed to dunk to make them softer (and take the edge off the coffee) but I prefer to eat them just the way they are.

Biscotti translates to… not “biscuits”, but “twice-baked”, which is exactly how they’re made. First baked as a full loaf; then baked again as individual cookies. Now then, another Italian translation for you: Nonni means “grandmother”. Nonni’s also means a brand of biscotti (whoops, make that cantucci) you’ll find in your grocery store… and in my pantry. The Nonni’s version is an unashamed dessert cookie, with a layer of chocolate, caramel, or lemon frosting to add to the appeal. My advice: Nonni’s need to be put on a hard-to-reach shelf else they’ll become a habit just like the ones with my morning coffee.

In some Western European cultures biscotti are thrown into savory dishes, which I’m not going to get into because I find the idea unappealing. Biscotti are classy little sweet treats in my book – one of the two items in my “grown-up milk and cookies”. Alas, in 2026 it’ll just be “grown-up milk” for me… that is, as long as I stay away from my wife’s sugar cookies.

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #7

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

Today we took a mini road trip, as I chose to build the fountain’s Bags 12 and 13 – of 15 bags of pieces – on the kitchen counter (instead of upstairs in the home office). Kind of fitting considering the counter is topped with white marble. Kind of annoying considering the laundry machine and dishwasher were running nearby the whole time, interrupting Arcangelo Corelli’s moving “Christmas Concerto” in G Minor.

Maybe it was the change of venue but some strange stuff happened today. To begin with, I couldn’t find the very first piece in the build at all, until I looked closer at the instruction manual drawing and realized I was after a tiny statue. Once I found him I was off and running, though I found it sad that one of his companion statues ended up being a leftover piece.

Thought you should know: the back side of the LEGO Trevi is a sheer wall of white.

Now for the strange stuff. I assembled a flat L-shaped piece on top of another flat L-shaped piece, only to discover they weren’t supposed to go together that way. No amount of fingernail dexterity could pry those two apart. Fortunately I found myself in the kitchen. Sharp knives everywhere! It took a careful pry without cutting myself but I finally got those two unmarried. Never let it be said building LEGO models isn’t a dangerous sport.

That little brown round one (nestled top left) was missing from Bag 13!

More strange stuff. LEGO left a piece out of Bag 13. Okay, technically they left it out. “Technically” because in my growing pile of leftover pieces I found its twin. But considering LEGO never leaves out pieces, I had to wonder: Did the little guy just wander over to my leftover pile when I wasn’t looking? Or is he somewhere in the trash right now, along with the cellophane bag of Bag 13? Maybe he’s resting quietly on the kitchen floor just waiting to stub my toe? Who knows. I’m just thankful I had a “replacement” from my leftovers. And I don’t think I’ll be building LEGO models in the kitchen anymore.

Next week: The Trevi is completed!

Running build time: 6 hrs. 52 min.

Total leftover pieces: 35 (including a lonely little statue)

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

Priceless Hatches

I’m enjoying a couple of soft-boiled eggs right now, my every-other-day breakfast entrée. The timer I use to prepare them sits right in the pot of water, indicating when the eggs are cooked to perfection. I pay a little more than average for my eggs, to producer Vital who advertises “pasture-raised – tended by hand by farmers who care”. On the other hand, if I wanted to pay a lot more than average I’d simply go to a rare goods auction and buy one from Fabergé.

You wouldn’t have a Fabergé egg for breakfast, of course. No one would ever sink their teeth into a priceless work of art (well, maybe a banana), let alone one of only fifty that were ever created. One of the Fabergés – the “Winter Egg” – went under the auction block last week, with the winning bid confirmed in a mere three minutes. The buyer’s purchase of a single Fabergé for $30.2 million dollars is a new record; noteworthy considering how many times the eggs have changed hands in the last 140 years.

I can’t say why we Westerners even know about Fabergé eggs. Most hide in private collections or in museums you’ve never been to. The eggs were created in St. Petersburg, Russia in the late 1800s by jeweler House of Fabergé for the reigning tsars of the time. One or two eggs were produced every year as exquisite Easter gifts, from 1885 through 1917. Most are jeweled with diamonds and other precious gems, and hinge open to reveal delicate animals or scenes within.

The Winter Egg (1913) is described as “the most spectacular, artistically inventive and unusual” of all fifty Fabergés, which is quite a statement when any one of the eggs deserves the same praise. The Winter Egg took almost a year to design and create, and the value is evident in the details. 4,500 tiny rose-cut diamonds are married to a platinum snowflake motif to create the impression of a block of ice dusted with frost.

The Winter Egg hinges opens to reveal a hanging basket of wood anemones, made from white quartz and rare green “Tsavorite” garnets. I can’t imagine working with these expensive materials on such a small scale but maybe that’s because I don’t have the delicate fingers of a woman. The Winter Egg was designed and created by Alma Pihl, the only female jeweler in the House of Fabergé.

On a cruise around the Baltic Sea several years ago, my wife and I were fortunate to spend a couple of days in St. Petersburg, touring Catherine Palace and Peterhof among the city’s other sights. When we returned to the ship we were greeted by a local jeweler, who offered replicas of the Fabergés (for less than $32M, thank goodness). We chose the Imperial Coronation Egg (1897), inspired by the color of Tsar Alexander III’s robe. The Coronation Egg houses a replica of the imperial carriage, made with gold and platinum and detailed with rubies and diamonds (the original egg that is, not ours).

After learning a single egg can set you back $32M, I now look at my breakfast eggs a little differently. $10.99 a dozen? That used to be top of the heap. Now it’s just pocket change.

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #6

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

There’s a moment in every LEGO build where you look at what you’ve constructed and think, Hey, I’m almost done! That moment was today. Bags 10 and 11 – of 15 bags of pieces – brought the structure of the Trevi Fountain to new, practically finished heights. The tiny, tiny pieces I worked through (so many of them I was afraid to count) resulted in the uppermost level of the backdrop you see in the final photo.

From my magic hat of Italian composers I somehow chose Claudio Monteverdi for my musical accompaniment today. You don’t know Monteverdi and apparently I don’t either. Had I realized his contribution to classical music was mostly opera (hard pass) I would’ve reached into the hat again. Alas, I was subjected to Monteverdi’s L’Arianna “lament” – equal parts sorrow, anger, fear, and so on. Those singers sure didn’t sound happy as I snapped together LEGO pieces, but honestly who knows? I don’t speak “sung” Italian.

Here’s an expectation with a symmetrical LEGO build. If you construct an element that goes on one side of the model you’ll be mirroring it on the other side before you know it. A hundred or more pieces went into the windowed wall you see here, and a hundred more went into its twin soon after. It’s repetitive yes, but at least you go faster the second time around since you just had practice.

A word about the little devils in this photo. Because they’re cylindrical they can roll. Because they roll they can hide under something. Something like a LEGO instruction manual. Once again I was fooled into thinking I was missing pieces… until I thought to look under the manual. Sure enough, there they sat just smirking at me. So I promptly arrested and cuffed them, hauled them away, and now they’re jailed in the backdrop you see here, without possibility of parole.

We’re just four bags of LEGO pieces from “turning on the water” of the magnificent Trevi. I’ll admit to peeking into the box at those upcoming bags. They are small, all four of them. Perhaps I’ll wrap the fountain construction in a single go next week. Even if not, conveniently, the final block of travertine would be laid the following week, just in time for Christmas. Now that’s what I call a gift!

Running build time: 5 hrs. 42 min.

Total leftover pieces: 32 (tiny, tiny pieces)

Some content sourced from the CNN Style article, “Faberge egg fetches record $30.2 million at rare auction”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Cold Brew

Seemingly overnight, a new drive-thru named 7 Brew showed up next door to our local supermarket. A quick glance as I drove by suggested their slogan: “Come for the coffee, come again for the people” is on the mark, with more employees dancing around the drive-thru lanes than making drinks in the petite building itself. 7 Brew advertises an “experience” as much as it does a menu of coffee and energy drinks. It’s just the latest concept to steal market share from Starbucks.

Did you know today is “Red Cup Day” at Starbucks? Red Cup Day is the coffeemaker’s nod to the beginning of the holiday season. Buy a Starbucks “holiday” drink and you’ll also receive a festive reusable cup – more distinctive than the usual white ones. The red cups suggest Christmas comes early this year, and encourage the purchase of peppermint mochas, eggnnog lattes, and iced gingerbread chais. Somewhere in all that there might even be coffee.

I admit, the Starbucks Chestnut Praline Latte really is Christmas in a cup. The drink tastes of the same spices you’ll use with Grandma’s cookie recipes this season. And on a recent trip through Chicago O’Hare, my wife and I caved to a couple of Starbucks’ ever-popular Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But here’s my point. Starbucks is no longer my go-to for coffee drinks. It never was my go-to either, but there were plenty of morning commutes when I couldn’t pass up a Flat White and a couple of egg bites. Now I drive by without pause, the same way I’ve done so with McDonald’s for decades. It begs the question: has Starbucks become passé?

There are signs suggesting we’ve already put Starbucks in the rear-view mirror, even if 38,000 locations still dot the globe. Like 7 Brew, Starbucks has always tried to deliver an experience as much a drink. Come on in. Hang out for awhile. Even if you don’t, peruse all the “merch” while you’re standing in line. Chances are pretty good you’ll spend more on logo items and baked goods than coffee.

This year, Starbucks features a 20-oz. “Bearista” cup. It’s a refillable glass ontainer with a straw and it’s being marketed as a collectible. You’ll find these bears at your nearest Starbucks for $29.95. Or maybe you won’t, because they seem to be disappearing as fast as they’re put on the shelves. If you’re a little desperate, find one on eBay for $500 or more (coffee not included).

To me that’s a good way to describe Starbucks these days… a little desperate. They’re closing stores without drive-thru lanes, which suggests they’re trying to reduce the money they spend on leases. They’re laying off retail and non-retail employees, the typical corporate strategy to try to do more with less. And they’re coming up with bear-shaped cups the size of a Starbucks “Venti”, so you’ll purchase their largest coffee when you wouldn’t have done so with a regular cup.

If you think the “bearista” is cute – and would pay $29.95 for it – how about “Hello Kitty” products? Coming soon, you can buy a “plush” wearing a Starbucks green apron, and any one of five Hello Kitty containers, from water bottles to ceramic mugs. Each of these runs you $30 or more (again, without the coffee). Cats and coffee? It’s a ~~desperate~~ strange marketing strategy, perhaps aimed at a generation of consumer that seeks something more trendy than coffee in a red cup.

This year, the Pumpkin Spice Latte showed up on the Starbucks menu on August 26th; hardly what I’d call “fall”. Their Christmas-y drinks debut today, fully two weeks before Thanksgiving. That’s stretching the seasons a little. But let’s say I still splurge for a Grande Flat White, a couple of Egg Bites, and a slice of Iced Lemon Loaf. I’ll pay $20 before I even consider the purchase of a “bearista” or a kitty. It may be time to move on from the red cups. Maybe I’ll give 7 Brew a try instead. $7 gets you their smallest size… even pricier than Starbucks. No guarantee you’ll find any coffee in that cup either.

(Coming next week: more updates on the LEGO Trevi Fountain!)

Swimming Upstream

I can think of a dozen name brands I gotten hooked on for years, only to see them suddenly disappear from the shelves, never to return. Breakfast cereals. Hair spray. Cars. And what do we do when this happens? Simply find another brand and get used to it – easy-peasy. But when your streaming television service drops an essential channel, you can’t just jump to the next provider. Try that and you’ll hit your head on the cage they have you securely locked into.

Even if you’re not a sports fan, you’re probably tuned into my topic today. YouTube TV – which provides me the five channels of streaming television I care about (and 95 forgettable others), dropped ESPN from its lineup. It wasn’t like they warned us months ago they were renegotiating with Disney (ESPN’s parent), and that these talks weren’t going so well. Instead they alerted us last Thursday just before midnight – with an email coyly titled “An update on our partnership with Disney”. Then, the following morning, ESPN was gone. On Halloween. How fitting.

Without going into the weeds on why ESPN was dropped, let’s just call it the proverbial contract dispute. Disney wants one number. YouTube TV wants another. A stalemate akin to what we’re seeing in Washington right now. Yes, what D.C. is blocking is so much more important than a television sports channel. But when you’re a die-hard college football fan you can relate to losing an “essential service”.

Getting my ESPN back is not like choosing another breakfast cereal. If only it were that easy. Instead, we have to shift to an entirely different grocery aisle. Make that an entirely different supermarket. As soon as YouTube TV dropped ESPN, Disney was only too happy to promote its own streaming service. Sign up for Disney+, including ESPN and Hulu!!! Only $29.95 per month – a savings of $5/month!!! Only twelve months of subscription required!!!

All those exclamation points are a ruse, as if this is a service I can’t live without. Disney Channel? Not my thing. Hulu? I’m already getting enough entertainment on Netflix. I just want ESPN please. And apparently I should be happy to pay a minimum of $360 for it, in addition to my monthly $80 for YouTube TV.

Bless our tech-savvy children. We turn to them for all things electronic. I checked in with one of my sons – who is every bit the college football fanatic I am – and he came to my rescue. Fubo – a streaming service looking like a twin to YouTube TV – offers a free one-week trial that includes ESPN. It’s kind of like Congress signing a stopgap spending bill to keep the government open. Now I have another seven days to figure out what to do.

YouTube TV promises a credit if the lack of negotiations with Disney continues long enough (sorry, the same does not apply to our government). But I can’t necessarily wait for that credit. In one week I’ve got to decide if I’m a YouTube TV guy or a Fubo one. Can’t have both (at least, according to my budget).

Of course, it feels almost inevitable that Fubo will run into a contract dispute with Disney as well. So even if I go that route I could lose ESPN again. Maybe I’m getting forced into a Disney+ subscription after all? But another $360/year? No way. I’d sooner get on a plane and go watch my college football games in person. Er, assuming the FAA doesn’t cancel my flights. Swimming upstream indeed. Sigh…

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #3

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

We resumed our fountain build this week with more confidence than the last, accompanied by the merriment of Paganini’s Violin Concerto No. 1. Bags 6 and 7 – of 15 bags of pieces – were filled with tiny, tiny finger-numbing LEGOs, and at times I wondered just what the heck I was putting together. Didn’t look like the makings of a fountain to me.

According to LEGO, water is white and blue. I suppose the white is meant to be rushing water (as in “waterfall”) while the blue is calm water (as in “pool”). We shall see. But check out the look of the fountain in the final photo. Anyone else see a monster’s mouth with white teeth?

Since this is my fifth LEGO model, it’s high time I make the following proclamation: LEGO never leaves out a piece. Never. I still have moments where I’m searching through a pile of pieces in vain for the one I need. I almost get to the feeling of “it’s not here”. But suddenly there the little guy is, staring up at me as if to say, “What took you so long?” Some day I’d love to see how LEGO pulls this off. Thousands of pieces in every box, not a single one of them left out. That’s some logistical magic going on there.

I’m proud to say I made zero mistakes on the build this time around, a dramatic improvement from a week ago. Okay, that’s not entirely accurate. I left a piece off the back of the fountain, but immediately discovered my error when I added a section and realized there was nothing to support it. Fixed in a jiffy, but the merry instruments on Paganini’s violin concerto sounded even more gleeful as they saw my confidence take a hit.

Running build time: 2 hrs. 27 min.

Total leftover pieces: 13

Chain (Saw) Reaction

When your kids celebrate you on Mother’s Day, you get flowers and chocolates; maybe even a homemade breakfast. When your kids celebrate you on Father’s Day, you get a gift card to Home Depot or Lowe’s, which is awesome. My kids are perceptive enough to know there’s always something I need for the workshop, so that little plastic rectangle of credit always brings a smile. But what I need is always trumped by what I want. Like power tools.

A polesaw is one of the cooler power tools out there (especially if you have a use for it). A polesaw is essentially a chain saw mounted on top of twelve feet of plastic pipe. At the bottom is the trigger. It’s like the world’s longest rifle, only you’re spinning chain saw blades instead of firing bullets. Picture the head and neck of a very thin giraffe. Or something out of a horror movie you’d watch this Halloween.

Polesaws are perfect for cutting down those overhead tree branches you cannot reach. You avoid the whole fall-off-the-ladder thing, which is fine with me since I’ve done it before. And with today’s super-batteries, you’re not tethered to a cord or a gas tank. Which brings me to my real story.

After purchasing my brand new Craftsman polesaw at Lowe’s – and barely fitting it into the back of my SUV – I headed on home eager to try it out. Charge up the battery, unsheathe the chain saw blade, and get to chopping down branches. When I did get home however, I realized my most basic of blunders: I had no battery. Right there on the box in plain English: TOOL ONLY. BATTERY AND CHARGER SOLD SEPARATELY. Talk about “buzz kill”.

A few days later I made it back to Lowe’s. Found the battery (the last one!), as well as an employee to escort me to check-out to make sure I paid. I get it – those batteries are expensive – more than the pole saw itself in fact. Okay, so now I have my pole saw and my battery. When I got home again however, I discovered my next blunder. It’s just a battery. It’s not a battery and a charger. Without a charger, a battery is just a bunch of chemicals housed in a case. Good grief, Charlie Brown! (with a whack on the forehead)

The next time I went to Lowe’s – where they now know me on a first-name basis – I found the charger. But here’s the problem. The charger comes with a battery, versus being sold all on its own. In other words, I have to buy a battery I don’t need. Okay, so I’ll return the first one. But after another employee escort to check-out and a little thought, I realized my biggest blunder of them all. I’d already unpacked and installed the first battery on the polesaw. Now I have a polesaw, a battery, a charger… and another battery I can no longer return. Needless to say, I’m well past the amount of my Father’s Day gift card by now.

I like to end every story with good news. The polesaw advertises “325 cuts per battery charge”. In other words, I’m never gonna need that second battery. Sure looks lonely sitting there on the workbench. Guess I just found me an excuse to buy another Craftsman power tool!

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LEGO Trevi Fountain – Update #1

(Read about the start of this build in Brick Wall Waterfall)

Our LEGO Trevi Fountain already feels like it’s flowing after just 3 bags – of 15 bags of pieces. You know this is going to be quick construction when I’m showing evidence of “brick wall” and “waterfall” just twenty percent into the build.

The rust on my LEGO skills was apparent from the first bag. I assembled the first two pieces incorrectly, thought I was missing a piece (which you always find later), and questioned why I ended up with an extra piece (which is LEGO’s way of saying, “in case you lose one”). Bag 2 had similar challenges. And Bag 3 was a little more difficult because you get lost in all those dreamy shades of blue. There was a moment when I placed an entire section of the fountain too far forward, corrected it, and thought, “Wow, Travertine is hard to move!”

For my fountain-building accompaniment, I thought it would be appropriate to listen the to the works of classical Italian composers. For today’s portion, I went with Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons”. Bag 1 took me through “Spring” while Bag 2 took me through “Summer”. Bag 3 required the other two seasons. But as you can see, I already have a four-seasons pool I could throw coins into!

Running build time: 1 hr. 5 min.

Total leftover pieces: 2

Brick Wall Waterfall

If you were to spend an entire year in Rome, you could visit five churches every day and still miss out on some of the more than 1,600 within the city limits. You could also visit five piazzas (public squares) and never see all 2,000. If monuments are your thing, Rome has so many that instead of an actual count they simply say “more than any other city in the world”. And then we have Rome’s fountains. You could dip your hand in five a day and never see them all in a year. So here’s a better idea. Just spend a few hours at the Trevi and assume all of the others are second best.

I wouldn’t decree “best fountain in all of Rome” if I hadn’t been there and seen it for myself. I spent a college year in the Eternal City studying architecture, and you can’t help noticing the other elements of the city while you’re at it. Like fountains on every street corner. The Trevi Fountain was walking distance from the hotel/dorm we Americans lived in, so you can bet I stood before the Trevi’s gushing waterfalls many a day. Even a few nights.

Most people assume “Trevi” is an Italian word. It’s actually two words mashed into one. Tre = three, vie = ways. The Trevi is located at the intersection of three streets. It’s also the terminus for an aqueduct from ancient times. Water is picked up from a source outside of the city, carried over fourteen miles through the aqueduct, and deposited “with a splash” at the Trevi, to be further dispersed to the city underground.

Here’s a little more trivia on the Trevi. It was designed and built in the 1700s, on the back wall of a palace. It’s primary material is travertine stone (pricey!) quarried from nearby Tivoli. Besides the columns, arches, and niches along the wall, you have quite the trove of imagery going on over the water, with mythological creatures like tritons and hippocamps. I have no idea who the sculpted figures gazing down from either side are, but the big guy front and center is Oceanus, a pre-Olympian god.

If you’re a top-five tourist attraction in Rome, you must be pretty darned attractive for a city with countless places to visit. Maybe it’s the coin thing. Why do tourists stand with their backs to the fountain and toss three coins over their shoulder into the water (right hand, left shoulder)? Because legend says they’ll return to Rome some day if they do. “Legend” is really just Hollywood, from the movie Three Coins in the Fountain. But if you really know your Trevi trivia, you say the tossed coins follow the ancient tradition of honoring the gods of the waters, granting you safe passage home.

I’ve talked about the Trevi before, in Too Many Roads Lead to Rome. The fountain has become so popular you now need a ticket and a specific time to stand in front of it. But what I haven’t done before is build the Trevi. Last spring, the “architects” at LEGO immortalized the fountain in a 731-piece model, which I will construct over the next several blog posts. I haven’t put my hands on a piece of LEGO since Notre-Dame du Paris last January (which still beckons me to add its lighting kit). I might be a little rusty at this. The fountain might leak a little. But I’m up for a dip in this brick wall waterfall if you are.

Author’s Note: The title of this post was inspired by the strange-but-sweet Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star. The movie included a little ditty my thirty-one year old daughter can still recite to this day: “Brick wall, waterfall, Dickie thinks he got it all but he don’t, and I do, so BOOM with that attitude. Peace punch, Cap’n Crunch, I’ve got something you can’t touch. Bang-bang choo-choo train, wind me up I do my thing. No Reese’s Pieces, 7-Up, you mess with me, I’ll mess you up.”

Some content sourced from the TripAdvisor.com article, “Everything you need to know about the Trevi Fountain coins”; IMDB, “the Internet Movie Database”; and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.