travel – Life In A Word

A Tale of Two Women

There’s a well-known saying in the South: The intolerable heat of July and August is God’s reminder you don’t want to go to the bad place some day. The coping strategies include lots of time indoors or traveling to more temperate places. Thus did my wife & I find ourselves on the California coast for a couple of weeks. Giving up the sweat and bugs for the sun, surf, and sand was an easy trade. But true to form Cali delivered an experience worth sharing (or at least blogging about).

We all have choices when it comes to shipping our stuff. Maybe it’s the post office in a small town but for the rest of us it’s a franchise like The UPS Store or PostNet. My option during this trip was PostalAnnex, conveniently adjacent to a market where my wife could disappear. So I entered the shipping store alone, phone in hand, fully prepared to get lost in my newsfeed while waiting in a long line. Only there wasn’t any line – just one woman being helped by another behind the counter. My lucky day! I’d be back to the sun and surf in no time.

I’d hardly glanced at PostalAnnex’s impulse buys when I began to pick up on the conversation at the counter. The woman was sending a vase. It was fragile. She wasn’t convinced it would get to its destination intact. But credit the clerk for her calm, soothing voice, assuring the woman she’d packed countless fragile objects before, and this one would be no exception. To which the woman literally shouted, “Well, I hope so! Otherwise my vase will be as broken as my marriage!”

As broken as my marriage? Okay, that got my attention.

Look, I’m not one to eavesdrop but I was kind of a captive audience here, okay? And I had no idea this woman was just getting started with her personal soap opera. “Last name?”, the clerk asked, intending to search the PostalAnnex database. “Jones… Lisa Jones”, declared the woman, who promptly corrected herself by saying, “No… WAIT!!! Not Jones!!! That’s who I used to be!!! Clark!!! It’s Clark now! And you gotta update my first name too because I changed that as well! Ari Clark! Yes I’m… I’m Ari Clark now, thank you very much. New first name and new last name!!! This is me severing every last connection with that no-good loser ex-husband of mine!!!”

Oh my. And here I thought she was just mailing a vase.

Since I was the only male in the store you can understand why I considered bolting for the door at that very moment. But since the woman didn’t turn around and say something to the effect of “ALL of you men are scum of the earth“, I maintained my quiet presence. Quiet, that is, until the clerk looked over at me somewhat helplessly and said, “Sir, are you just dropping off or do you need to set up a shipment?” Which prompted the woman to look back at me and – thankfully – give nothing more threatening than a what are you looking at? glance.

“I look good, don’t I?”, she continued, clearly posing for the clerk. “I mean, I’ve made the changes, if you know what I mean. I’m ready to get out there and start living again. My ex – man – he totally blew it with that affair of his. 35 years of marriage and he goes and cheats on me? Over and done with, baby – your loss.”

“Um, your address please?”, the PostalAnnex clerk pleaded.

“58 Charles St., Apartment B. That’s right, a new address to put into your system because I’m done with that old address. Like I said, I’m done with everything about the last thirty-five years.”

The clerk then assured this woman she looked great and was doing the right thing by moving on, and in fact, should move on right now so the next customer (me) could be helped. And bless her heart, that’s exactly what the woman did… that is, after paying with a credit card she assured us had her new first and last name.

When it was my turn at the counter (twenty minutes after walking through the door) the clerk joked with me. “Well, I guess I offer free marital advice along with shipping services. So let’s chat first; how long have you been married?”

“Thirty-nine years”, I said, a little too proudly.

“Thirty-nine years?“, she exclaimed. “Goodness – no one in California lasts that long! Tell you what, just for you: the thirty-nine-years-of-marriage shipping discount!”

Did I really get a discount? Who knows. I’m just glad I didn’t run into the other woman in the parking lot. I’d put up with enough blistering heat already this summer.

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LEGO Neuschwanstein Castle – Update #3 (read about the start of this project in Fit for a (Fairy Tale) King)

No surprise, we continued to move mountains (er, Bavarian Alps) this week instead of anything brick or stone. The colors and shapes of the LEGO pieces in Bags 5 and 6 (of 23 bags of pieces) were decidedly “earthy”. What we have in the photo above looks like some sort of ocean trawler instead of a castle foundation. But the good news is, we’ve just about reached the far end of the model (on the right), so a little more earth-moving will shift gears into castle construction.

In my haste to move mountains I knocked that single white turret off its footing, which forced me to leaf back several pages in the instruction manual to remember where it was based. Strange how LEGO chose to tease me with a lone turret (and castle wall) this early in the build. That little assembly will be utterly dwarfed by the castle once it rises above it.

A footpath outside of the castle walls, perhaps?

Speaking of the LEGO instruction manual (better known as the “Tome of Construction”) this is a good time to dismiss LEGO “Builder”. For those of you in the know, Builder is a smartphone app that replaces the instruction manual, so you just tap your phone every time you move to a new step. Nope, not gonna do it. The Tome of Construction is much bigger than a phone screen, with easy-to-turn, easy-to-read pages. There’s really no good reason to go electronic with the steps. After all, Neuschwanstein didn’t have electricity when it was built so why should its construction?

Running build time: 2:37.

Total leftover pieces: 21.

Accompanying movie soundtrack: The Natural (1984). Here’s an appropriate choice from my favorite soundtracks list, since we’re in the middle of the major league baseball season. The Natural is a mystical, beautifully filmed story of an aging baseball player. Robert Redford plays the lead role (with Glenn Close supporting, and looking a lot lovelier than she did in Fatal Attraction). The movie score is both haunting and majestic. It taps generously from Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man”. It also echoes Rudy, a soundtrack I’ll spend a little time with a couple of weeks from now. Have a listen to The Natural here.

Mighty Fine Print

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running build time: 1:52.

Total leftover pieces: 17.

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

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

What’s the Score?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Builder’s Half-Dozen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fit For a (Fairy Tale) King

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hitting the Sweets Spot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best Feet Forward

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

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

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

for instance…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beachy Keen

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

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

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

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

Caladesi Island State Park in Clearwater FL

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

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

Cape Cod gets busy in the summer months…

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

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

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

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

A Relentless Rising Tide

Every year in mid-October, my mailbox gets noticeably fuller with holiday catalogs. The adverts are bold and glossy with all sorts of gifting ideas. I enjoy leafing through their colorful pages. But then they keep coming to my mailbox. And coming. And coming some more. If I saved every one of them I’d probably have a stack as high as my house by mid-December. By my calculations that’s almost as high as the stack I’d have for luxury cruises.

Maybe you’re familiar with the term First-World problem. It refers to “issues that are trivial, experienced by people in affluent, developed nations.” It puts minor annoyances in perspective compared to the more legitimate problems of this world. Good examples of First-World problems: 1) You can’t find the TV remote, 2) You have bad cell phone reception, or 3) Your favorite store only accepts cash. Today’s example of a First-World problem: 4) Too much junk mail from cruise lines.

Yes, I’ve taken a cruise. In fact I’ve taken four: one on the (Pacific) ocean with Carnival, one on the (Baltic) sea with Oceania, and two on the (Rhine, Danube) rivers with Viking. So it’s fair to say I’m a worthy target when it comes to cruise lines pushing their upcoming adventures. For some reason Carnival doesn’t pursue me (maybe I’m too old for their party boats?) but Oceania and Viking have gone – take your pick – full steam ahead or totally overboard. They send countless postcards advertising their cruises, and thick catalogs advertising their entire season’s worth. They love to push you to consider their “off-season, deeply discounted” options. And they love to NOT leave you alone.

It’s safe to say I receive a promotion for a cruise two out of every three days. Most days these adverts seem to give birth to a family. Just yesterday I received six, and two of them – go figure – were identical twins. I guess Viking really wants me to take that cruise. One of those six came from Regent (kind of an orphan), which makes me think Viking and Oceania share their mailing lists. Thanks a lot, guys.

Would I take a luxury cruise right now? Sounds nice, as long as it’s not through the Strait of Hormuz. Sounds nice, as long as I don’t pick up a pandemic-potential virus onboard. Sounds nice, as long as my ship doesn’t get torpedoed the way Cunard’s cruise ship Lusitania did in the early 1900s (read the remarkable story in Erik Larson’s Dead Wake). Maybe I should reconsider my “sounds good”. I sense the gods of cruising are trying to tell me something.

Admittedly, it surprised me to learn the demand for luxury cruises is not down but markedly up right now. You could point to the cost of fuel, the unrest in several parts of the world, or the thought of picking up a virus as reasons people wouldn’t want to cruise. Doesn’t seem to matter. Bookings are at record levels, especially those for “mega-ships” that look like floating water parks and the ones that take you to private islands. When one of my postcards advertises “up to 45% Spring savings!” and another “up to 30% off with free international airfare!”, you just know their profit margins are more than healthy.

But I digress. I need to address my First-World problem. Rather, let’s let Catalog Choice (CC) address it. With a quick online sign-up and a little info from one of my postcards, CC claims they’ll remove the cruise clutter from my mailbox, in the name of “fighting waste, preventing fraud, and simplifying life”. Will they? Time will tell. Maybe I’ll get back to you a few months from now since it’s a matter of global concern. Assuming I’m not on a luxury cruise at the time.

Some content sourced from the Travel and Tour World article, “U.S. Cruise Industry Faces Fuel Shock, Health Fears, and Mega Ship Boom…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Wheels of Fortune

Late last year, Belgium found itself at the center of a culinary controversy. A local company was producing and selling a bottled version of “carbonara sauce”, much to the dismay of Italy. The Italians are fiercely protective of the recipe for spaghetti carbonara they invented a hundred years ago. Anyone familiar with the dish understands there is no such thing as carbonara sauce, because the food is the result of a slow, methodical process using fresh ingredients (including eggs and cheese), where everything melds together perfectly. You can’t just bottle it and call it the same thing.

Carbonara is a good example of a product invented in Italy and dumbed down for mass consumption. Imagine how the Italians feel about Starbucks. Somewhere on the menu you can order a shot of pure espresso but it’s the drinks with the added flavors, sugar, and milk that generate the profits. Similarly, you’ll find a dozen packages of biscotti on America’s cookie aisles, but most aren’t twice-baked like the originals nor infused with real almond liquor.

Maybe you’ve already added pizza to this list of imposters. The transformation of pizza from the Italian original to the endless varieties offered in today’s restaurants could be the subject of its own blog post (and a long one at that). Suffice it to say, the Italians are justified in turning up their noses to any product we Americans call “pizza”. Unless you’ve had a pie made with authentic Italian ingredients and prepared the same way they made it centuries ago, you really don’t know pizza.

But let’s talk about cheese, because it’s the real subject of today’s post. Parmesan cheese is another Italian original, dating back to the Middle Ages. It’s made with just three ingredients: milk, salt, and rennet (enzymes). Today you can choose from a variety of parmesan cheeses in your supermarket deli or just cheat with the big green Kraft can from the pasta aisle (which includes several added ingredients you wouldn’t be happy about). But whether from the deli or from a can, you’re not purchasing the Italian original… unless, the package includes the official logo of Parmigiano Reggiano. That, my friends, indicates the real deal. Or, if you prefer, the “big cheese”.

Parmigiano Reggiano (shall we call it “PR” from here on out? Yes, let’s do that.) is one of the most tightly regulated foods in the world. Maybe the Italians got tired of losing control of their original recipes and declared, “Uh-uh, not this one”. PR is made from milk, salt, and rennet just like the other wannabes, but with two important differences. The cows that provide two of those three ingredients graze on the pristine grass of pastures in a single tiny region of central Italy. The cows, the grass, and the milk they produce are regulated in a way that would make Fort Knox proud. It’s a small, tight supply chain of cheese production with the same quality of centuries ago.

Here’s the other important distinction between PR and the others. It must be aged at least a year (and it’s typically more like two or three) before it can be sold. That requirement gets the cheese to stand alone even more than its carefully-produced ingredients. Why? Because most companies can’t sit around for a year or more waiting for cheese to generate profits while suppliers are demanding payment on the spot. So how do the makers of PR do it? They bank their cheese. Literally.

You know you have a really good cheese when your bank is willing to take it as collateral. Here are the staggering numbers. Italy produces four million wheels of PR a year, distributed throughout the country and the world for sale. (Fact: America is the largest consumer of Parmigiano Reggiano outside of Italy.) But 500,000 of those wheels are held back and “deposited” into a local bank to age, in exchange for the cash necessary to pay the suppliers. PR is of such high quality and so carefully regulated that the banks have agreed to this unique arrangement for generations. Of course, the combined value of those wheels probably helps (well north of $300 million).

If you’d care to know more about this whole cheese-for-money thing, read the article I reference below. More importantly, if you ever come across Italy’s “Cheese Bank”, you’ll probably find the usual ATM’s, tellers, and offices, but at least you’ll know what that big warehouse next door is all about.

Some content sourced from the CNN Business article, “Inside Italy’s secret ‘Cheese Bank’…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.