My photography group assignment for September was “Composition.” We were told to photograph a small object in at least 10 different ways, experimenting with angle, distance, etc., and then to choose the 2 to 4 we liked best, which would be presented to the group and critiqued at our next meeting.
We could define “small” in any way we wished. We had to keep the object in a consistent environment, but we could alter its appearance by doing things like spraying it with water, immersing it in water, or cutting it in half. I’m sure that last suggestion applied only to inanimate objects!
Aside from trying to decide how I’d alter the poor object, the hard part for me (and for many of the rest of us, I’ve heard) was settling on a subject to photograph. I wanted to choose something interesting or unique. But then it dawned on me that I was in the group to learn, not to try and impress anyone. And the best way for me to learn composition, I figured, was to keep it simple. I chose an apple as my model.
After selecting the prettiest apple in my fruit bin, I hauled out my camera, two lenses, a tripod, a shiny background, a scarf, a lamp, and a flashlight. I piled everything on my bed and proceeded to set up various scenes using the apple as the star of my production.
I set the apple on a white board. I placed a black box behind it. I nestled it in a colorful scarf. I experimented with various shutter speeds and apertures. I waved the scarf behind it. I sprayed the apple with water and coated it in olive oil. I spent at least 4 hours taking photos of the damned apple.
Then I spent another hour or so editing my photos. But after all of that, I was unsatisfied. I felt like I hadn’t done a very good job on the assignment, and I was embarrassed to show my photos to the group. Even worse, I hadn’t learned anything about composition.
Then yesterday I went for a walk, and what did I see? Hundreds of small, rain-splashed autumn leaves glittering in the sun. Some had landed on top of a sewer cover. There was a strange beauty in all of that. Unfortunately, all I had with me was my iPhone, and there was someone walking behind me. Nervous about stopping, squatting down, and taking pictures with someone watching, I kept walking.
But after they passed me, I turned around. Sure, traffic was zooming by, and I’d be noticed by everyone in their cars as I crouched down, held that position for far too long, and then struggled to get up again (that did happen!), but so what? If a good picture is worth 1,000 words, it’s also worth a little embarrassment and creaky knees. I got to work.
After about 5 minutes, I had 30 pictures of leaves! And my knees survived! I couldn’t wait to get home and edit the pictures. I hadn’t used any fancy equipment. I didn’t have special lighting or backgrounds to play with. But instead, I decided to do what our mentor had said … notice something, stop, walk around it, and take pictures from different angles.
What do you think of the results? Which photos do you like best?
Did I learn something? Yes. I learned that beautiful objects can be found anywhere, even at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected places … and that it pays to consider all the “angles.”
Note: The following post is a copy of what now appears on this site’s Welcome page. I’m posting it here as well, so you’ll be aware that I’ve recently merged my two author websites. From now on, this site is the only one you’ll need in order to access all of my past and present blog posts, etc. I hope that simplifies your life. I know it will simplify mine!
“Words, words, words.” —”Hamlet,” Act 2, Scene 2.
I’ve always been in love with words.
As a child, I was an avid reader, but it wasn’t until high school (many decades ago) that I wrote my first piece, a one-act play about Cinderella set in modern times. I still have a copy of it!
After a long hiatus involving college and parenthood, I started writing again, and now I can’t seem to stop.
In fact, I’ve been writing so much that I recently found myself with not one but TWO writing websites. This was confusing for my readers, as well as for myself, so I’ve just merged the two sites. Now, whether you use the old url (loristory.wordpress.com) or the newer one (loribonati.com), you’ll end up here.
In addition to still being able to read all of my old WordPress blog posts dating back to 2016 (lucky you, especially if you have insomnia!) you’ll now have access to a few I’ve never posted here before, as well as all of my future blog posts. For example, you’ll see:
A five-part series that’s guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat, or at least in your seat. It’s about my move from Arizona to New York, and it’s called (I’ve Got A) New Latitude.
A mini-series about a not-so-comfortable-but-I’d-do-it-again three-day cross-country train trip, Train Tracker. (P.S. Hyphens are my friends.)
Recently, I attended a protest rally and took pictures of some clever and inspiring signs. One of my favorites was:
SO MANY ISSUES
SO LITTLE CARDBOARD
The word “Cardboard” was squeezed tightly into a corner at the bottom of the sign, to emphasize the fact that there just wasn’t enough room on that small placard to list every important grievance against our government.
The sentiment struck me as true not only politically, but “writerly,” too. You see, besides feeling swamped by political issues (and I’ll get to that later), I also seem to have too many ideas for writing projects swirling around in my head. Some are already written, some are nearing completion, and one I started yesterday. This morning, I even wrote two haikus before I got out of bed. Each one of these projects is clamoring for its moment in the spotlight (or at least a “like” by an agent).
But I feel like I’m running out of cardboard.
Cardboard: That space in my brain where I churn out half-baked writing ideas that sometimes bear fruit, and other times fade into obscurity. That flimsy container that can feel sharp and in focus one day, and waterlogged or empty the next. That hourglass that seems to be flowing in a downward direction, faster and faster every day.
It would be wonderful if my cardboard would suddenly turn into a bright, flashing neon sign, like the kind on Broadway, one that speaks boldly and proudly that “we have a winner!” “a smash hit!” “a must-read!”
It would be great if that cardboard would become a billboard that agents would notice as they speed by on the literary highway, taking note of the contact information, and later that night, sending an email asking for a full manuscript.
It would be reassuring if that cardboard were to be waved like a flag by a reader who was moved by it.
It sure would be nice to have an unlimited supply of cardboard, but my brain matter is finite. My cardboard will never stretch. In fact, it can only shrink. So now I know what I need to do:
I need to write smaller!
Yes, I need to choose just one, or possibly two, of my books, and focus on getting them published.
And also, does anyone know where I can find MORE CARDBOARD?
Note: See my PHOTOS link in the Menu for signs – cardboard and otherwise – from the 50501 (50 protests, 50 states, 1 day) rally in Rochester, NY, 4/19/25.
P.S. Speaking of politics, I’ve found it helpful in this political climate to keep a second piece of cardboard in my brain just for politics, and to put only one issue on it for now: the environment. That way maybe I can focus my energy and hopefully be effective. The job I’ve assigned myself is to read up on the science behind climate change, and to report out to my group (a subcommittee of Indivisible) on local environmental actions. Reading and writing … I can’t seem to get away from either one.
Thanks to Rick Steves for his thoughtful and honest post about authoritarianism yesterday, which inspired me to veer into the political realm today. I urge you all to read it.
That’s a question I recently asked some 5th grade boys, right before launching into my school presentation about poetry, which included a reading of my book, “Iguana in the Road.”
As a member of a local writer’s group, I’d been invited to participate in a literacy program for city youth. I was excited to be around students again, after having been retired from school psychology for 4 years.
I arrived early, hoping to set up my presentation before the students arrived. Unfortunately, I soon learned that there would be a substitute teacher that day.
Then I was informed by the Literacy Specialist that it was a “tough class.”
I knew I could handle that, but what ruffled me a bit was when my PowerPoint presentation wasn’t immediately recognized by the smart board in the classroom.
It was 8:00 a.m. on a Friday before a long weekend, and I’d been hoping my bright, colorful PowerPoint slides would wake the kids (and me) up, and keep us awake throughout the presentation.
I had a Plan B: I’d brought notes. But luckily, I didn’t have to use them! After about 5 minutes, a helpful staff member got the technology working, and my PowerPoint was up on the big screen. Yay! Now all I had to do was inspire a bunch of young boys to write poetry.
I began by holding up a cute stuffed iguana and asking, “What does an iguana have to do with poetry?” Admittedly, it wasn’t a fair question. They couldn’t possibly have known what I was leading up to. But one brave soul raised his hand.
“Eat,” he said.
“Eat?” I asked. He nodded.
“Okay … they both eat?” He nodded again. What could he have meant?
Maybe I misheard him, and what he really said was “neat” (as in “I like both”) or “feet” (as in the rhythmic pattern of poetry). In either case, maybe he should have been teaching the class instead of me.
I decided to move on quickly – and to keep the presentation lively. (A teacher friend of mine once told me that teaching is something like acting.) I believe my strategy worked, because the boys paid attention and were respectful and engaged throughout the entire hour.
I think having props like my cuddly stuffed iguana helped. I also had brought lots of books. I began by showing them a picture book about Gwendolyn Brooks, the first Black person to ever win a Pulitzer Prize. She won the prize for poetry, I informed them, and she wrote her first poem when she was seven years old. They seemed surprised by that.
Next, I read short quotes about poetry from three famous poets: Amanda Gorman, William Shakespeare, and Kwame Alexander. They’d never heard of Amanda or Kwame, but one boy not only recognized the Bard, but knew his name.
William Shakespeare
I animatedly read a page from Kwame Alexander’s novel-in-verse, “The Crossover.” When I mentioned that the book is about twin brothers who play basketball, one boy raised his hand. “I’m a twin!” he said. When I said that the main character in the book is named Josh, he grinned. “I’m Josh!” he exclaimed. I was glad I’d chosen “The Crossover” to include in my talk. (P.S. I love that book!)
Kwame Alexander
I then listed the main ingredients in a poem (rhyme, rhythm, and repetition), read a poem as an example of rhyme, showed a photo of my dog (because kids like dogs, right?), and read a poem I’d written about my dog that used repetition.
I added other ingredients, such as comparison (simile and metaphor), and I read a poem my own daughter had written in 4th grade – one that used a metaphor. I wanted them to know as much about poetry as I could squeeze into an hour, without boring them to death.
I also stressed that a poem does not need to be long. As an example, I put Muhammad Ali’s famous poem (“Me. Whee!”) up on the board.
Then I dramatically announced that there were NO RULES! in poetry. I wanted them to relax and feel free to write whatever was in their hearts.
After that, I invited them to think of a topic and brainstorm a few words that could eventually become a poem. Classroom helpers passed out paper and pencils that had been provided by a grant from a local organization.
Several students asked for help with spelling. As I spelled out a word for one boy, he wrote it from right to left, each letter reversed. Some kids didn’t write at all. One child kept his head down on his desk most of the time. I knew from experience that could mean he hadn’t slept the night before, was hungry, or maybe was just trying to keep his emotions together. Whether they wrote or not wasn’t important to me. I was just glad they were listening, because I was hoping to plant some poetry seeds that day.
In the 5 minutes they had to think of topics and write, the majority of kids did write. I’m not sure I could have done that! Their rough drafts ranged from just a few words to whole paragraphs. Several volunteered to stand and read their works-in-progress to the class.
They wrote about football (one poem was a play-by-play description of a game), and about their pets. One of my favorite creations was this one:
“Chocolate, dog, no, no, no.”
Good use of repetition! And it says so much in just five words. After reading his poem aloud, the author explained what he meant (that dogs shouldn’t eat chocolate). This is a clear, concise, rhythmic poem, written in just a few minutes by someone who might never have written a poem before in his life. Bravo!
I concluded my presentation with a reading of “Iguana in the Road,” and moved on to my next assignment, a bilingual 5th grade class down the hall. (The school I visited is the largest bilingual elementary school in my city.)
Right away, I noticed a difference. The students seemed older, taller, quieter. They didn’t raise their hands or respond to my questions … not right away, at least.
But by the end of the presentation? Wow. Not only were they participating, but they were actively encouraging each other to participate, chanting their friends’ names to get them to stand on the “stage” (the front of the room) and to share their poems.
While they wrote, I offered assistance. As with the former class, many asked for help with spelling. One girl asked if it was okay to write in Spanish, or if she had to write in English. I told her it was fine to write in Spanish, and then I mentioned that to the rest of the class. As a result, several kids wrote poems in Spanish.
Since many were reluctant to read aloud, I offered to read their poems for them, including the ones in Spanish. At least ten children handed me poems to read, about half of them in Spanish. I think they were pleasantly surprised that I could read and understand them!
Thanks to the community grant, each child in the participating elementary schools received a free book that day! I was so grateful for the privilege of being part of this program and being among so many creative, talented, and helpful people.
I think there must be something in the air. Maybe it’s autumn. Or aliens. Or the fact that I haven’t had to mow my lawn in three weeks. Whatever it is, it’s causing me to throw myself into certain indoor projects with a vengeance. And while that means I’m getting things done, and enjoying all this work, it also means I’m staying up late and not getting enough sleep.
Maya has no trouble sleeping.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be blogging about what’s been keeping me so busy (for example, reading, writing, cooking, and packing for a trip to California where I’ll attend a writing workshop), but today I’m excited to tell you about my newest music project, the YouTube song video IF TIME CAN BEND.
If Time Can Bend began its life as a poem several years ago. It’s about astrophysics, and therefore it touches on relativity, planets, time travel, and string theory. Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about? If so, my effort to pull the wool over your eyes has been a complete success!
Seriously, though, I know just enough about these topics to be dangerous, so I recklessly decided to turn my pseudoscientific poem into a song. Then, even more recklessly, I boldly asked keyboardist Chuck Phillips to help me record it, and the rest is history. Or is it? Maybe it hasn’t been recorded yet? Aha! Now you’re starting to see what the song is about.
Here’s how I describe it on YouTube:
“This lush song based on Lori’s original poem about time will have your head spinning and your heart swooning. Physics never sounded so good! Original music & lyrics by Lori Bonati, with Lori on vocals & midi instruments, and Chuck Phillips on piano and bass.”
I’m not going to apologize for tooting my own horn in that description. First of all, there are absolutely NO HORNS in this song. And also, I’m kind of proud of it, to tell you the truth!
Okay, enough talking. Maybe you should just go check it out here: IF TIME CAN BEND. A big thank you to those of you who do.
By the way, you can like and comment on the video directly on YouTube, or you can just leave a comment below.
So, that’s one song video down, a few more to go, and then I might just sit back and relax for a while. Or not! I’ve got all those books to finish writing … oh well, as Governor Tim Walz says, “We’ll sleep when we’re dead!”
Recap: In Episodes 1 and 2, I told you how a turtle made me think reptiles were cute, how an endangered iguana made me write a song about reptile conservation, and how that song became a video and a book.
And now, in Episode 3, you’ll learn about how a lizard made me write another song, video, and book … and all about my upcoming visit to IguanaLand!
I’m a desert spiny lizard, but you can call me “DSL,”
Oh, I’m a desert spiny lizard, but you can call me “DSL,”
My life is hot and dusty … all this crawlin’ in the desert ain’t swell!
That’s how my song, “Desert Spiny Lizard Blues,” begins, and it just gets more blue after that. You can check it out for yourself here.
I really can’t remember what inspired me to write a song about a lizard, so, once again, I’m going to pin the blame on a reptile – probably the one whose photo graces the cover of my latest children’s book, “I’m a Desert Spiny Lizard.”
Yes, that’s right. I wrote a book about a lizard – because once “Desert Spiny Lizard Blues” was written, recorded, and uploaded to YouTube, I felt compelled to create a children’s book to go with it, much as I’d done with my song, “I’m an Iguana.”
Unexpectedly, I now have two reptile books for kids under my belt, and they’re packed with factual information that I learned from reptile experts. I’m proud to announce that I’ll be offering both of these cute, fun, and educational reptile books for sale at the 3rd annual IguanaFest in Punta Gorda, Florida this weekend!
Not only that, but I’ll be selling my own handmade reptile-themed holiday ornaments to go with the books.
It’s true. I’ve gone reptile-crazy. When I first laid eyes on this adorable reptile-themed fabric, I couldn’t resist buying the whole two yards that were left on the bolt, even though I had no idea what I would do with it. Eventually, the idea of making felt holiday ornaments came to me.
So you see, not only have reptiles managed to coerce me into writing songs and books about them, posed for photographs, and demanded to appear in videos, but now they’re even sending me out of state to a reptile FESTIVAL, at the largest reptile zoo in the world (a.k.a. “IguanaLand”).
What’s next? Will a reptile make me write another episode for this blog series? Probably. I’m sure they’ll want you to find out what IguanaFest was like.
Stay tuned for the exciting final episode of A Reptile Made Me Do It!
Today, I’d like to share my experiences setting up my new website, loribonati.com.
The site is hosted by a company whose name rhymes with WhoaDaddy. I’ll refer to them as WhoaDaddy for the remainder of this post, because it seems appropriate. It’s been a wild ride. In fact, I could have used some reins.
After choosing a photo and writing a blurb for my home page, my next task was to select a layout design known as a “theme.”The choices were slim, but I quickly found one I liked. It had plenty of white space, something website designers recommend.
I then went about choosing colors for my theme. Or actually, color, singular. After selecting my first color (green), I couldn’t figure out how to choose another one.
Since I really would have preferred some accent colors, I contacted WhoaDaddy last night. That’s when things got a bit rough.
“Can I add more colors to my theme?” I asked via their chat line.
Hello, Lori. You are augustanahouston.org, right?
“No. I’ve never even heard of them. Is that a website?” (I then looked it up … it’s a church in Houston, Texas!)
Oh, my apologies. Are you loribonati.com?
“Yes.”
How can I make your day even better?
Suffice it to say that my day didn’t get better.
I needed to ask my question a number of times before I got a clear answer. First, I was told that I could add more colors by moving a simple slider across my screen toward a word that said “Colorful.” I’d already tried that, with no success, but I tried again. All that did was change light green to dark green.
The technician took control of my screen remotely. I was hopeful.
How’s that?
The background was now pitch black. There was absolutely no white space on the screen.
“I said I wanted a variety of colors,” I said, and then, feeling the need to be really obvious, I added, “like a rainbow of colors.”
Oh, for more colors, you will need to upgrade to a different plan.
“What do these plans cost?” I wanted to know.
And I had to ask that question more than once before I was directed to another screen that showed four different plan options. They were not unlike those data plans that seem designed to confuse. There was even some sales pressure. Maybe I was just tired. But not too tired to notice that there was a two-year agreement.
Do I have to sign up for two years? I asked.
Oh, no! We do allow you to sign up for just one year if you like.
Well, why didn’t you say so, I wanted to ask. But I kept my cool.
“No thanks, I’ll just keep my current plan for now,” I said.
“That’s fine. The decision is up to you, and we respect that.” Hmm. That wasn’t really necessary. Of course it’s my decision!
Later that night, I took another look at my site. My one and only blog post, “Shameless Wordling,” had disappeared from the site.
It was still there when I hit the “edit” button, but I couldn’t re-publish it because it said it was already published. I quickly dialed up WhoaDaddy on the chat line again.
“What happened to my blog post?” I asked.
An hours-long scenario followed, in which my blog post was located by a technician who then replaced it with one from The Food Network.
And I didn’t even like the recipes.
Please delete those food pictures asap,” I implored. At least that was taken care of quickly … or so I thought.
After that, the person on the line said she couldn’t help me further. She referred the problem to an advanced team and said it would be corrected within 24 hours.
The next morning:
I checked my site. My blog post was still in limbo, but at least I didn’t see the Food Network pictures anymore. I contacted WhoaDaddy again and was immediately transferred and placed on hold for 30 minutes, while music that I’d opted out of kept playing anyway. Someone finally came on the line, and I asked if he could locate my blog post and republish it.
Yes, I see it. It’s making me hungry!!
He was looking at the Food Network pictures.
I wondered if my post was showing up on the Food Network’s website. Maybe I’d be famous. I anticipated getting hundreds of emails inquiring about the cookbook I’m writing.
I checked my email. I’d gotten only one. It was from WhoaDaddy, and it asked me to rate the experience I’d had with the person who’d put me on hold.
I actually felt sorry for the hungry technician when I had to break it to him that those recipes weren’t mine. He sounded surprised and maybe a bit panicky, so I quickly reassured him that I still had a backup of my blog post. I could sense his palpable relief.
Perhaps because I’d put him in a good mood, he quickly and efficiently managed to locate my missing post by checking my history, and he then restored it to my site.
So, the bottom line is that all is well – for now, anyway.
I just hope I’m not mistaken for a church lady again. That could be a problem … or maybe a miracle, if my cookbook gets picked up by the Food Network.
I’ve been wearing eyeglasses since I was six years old. My first frames were red. Red PLAID, that is.
Not my actual glasses, but close!
Adult Me:
As an adult, I’ve been careful when purchasing eyewear, in the hopes of not looking as dorky as I did in first grade. My last pair was trendy, a Warby Parker style in a dark blue color called “Beach Glass.” I paid $325 for them in 2019. Here’s an actual, unretouched photo of me in my glasses:
I see I’m still wearing plaid. Oh well.
By 2021, I realized my vision had changed, and so had my taste in frames. Maybe the pandemic changed me. All that dreary news, all those drab and dreary masks. I no longer want such dark frames. It was time to go shopping for glasses. Things went downhill from there.
Late 2021:
I found an eye doctor in my new town and went to see him. When I arrived, there were no cars in the parking lot. That should have been my first clue. Inside, the office looked run-down, there were no other patients waiting, and there was loud classic rock music playing somewhere down the hall. I considered leaving, but then out he came to greet me. He was an older gentleman who seemed a bit forgetful, but he was very nice. I went ahead with the exam and got a new prescription.
Early 2022:
I found frames I liked at Zenni.com (a company I’ve bought glasses from before) and ordered them online. They were really cute: pink, cranberry, and black in a tortoiseshell pattern. Best of all, they only cost $126, including progressive (no-line bifocal) lenses and non-glare coating!
Pink and black … uh-oh. Maybe I’m stuck in the 50s.
Mid-2022:
I received my Zenni glasses. The prescription seemed off, so I returned them. Zenni inspected them and discovered a manufacturing error. They remade them for me free of charge and sent me another pair … but those were even worse. I couldn’t read the TV screen; I couldn’t even read street signs while driving. I returned this second pair of Zennis. They were inspected as well, and Zenni commendably admitted they’d made another error, just a slight one this time, but enough to earn me a full store credit. I haven’t used it yet. Don’t know if I ever will.
Summer 2022:
I had another eye exam, and my vision had by now changed again. With my new prescription in hand, I decided to take a chance on the optician playing the loud classic rock music in the other half of the office. Boy, I don’t know how to take a hint, do I. When I picked up my new Kate Spades, a right-wing talk show spouting conspiracy theories, instead of classic rock music, was booming out of the guy’s radio. I paid for the glasses ($450) and vowed never to return again.
I had to return again, though, because although I could read street signs off in the distance, I couldn’t read anything else .
Fall, 2022:
It was second opinion time. I saw a new eye doctor, who really seemed on the ball. She said she’d corrected my vision to 20/15 (the best it’s ever been), and I could tell when I looked through her equipment that it was true. The new prescription was a far cry from the one I’d gotten only a few months earlier. Finally, I was getting somewhere! At least, that’s what I thought.
Because now, I needed to find a pair of well-made, affordable glasses. I decided to visit the optician who was part of her practice. Almost immediately, I fell in love with a pair of stylish rose/mauve frames that looked great on me.
The friendly, talkative optician couldn’t have agreed more as she cheerfully worked up my price quote: with lenses, $832, plus tax.
I. Don’t. Think. So.
I went home without ordering, wondering how a pair of glasses could cost that much. When I started looking into it, I learned that, according to Forbes, The Guardian, the L.A. Times, and other news outlets, there’s been something close to a monopoly in the eyeglass industry for years, and it’s run by a company called Luxottica. And Luxottica actually seems proud of their “vertically integrated business model” that allows them to market their brands through LensCrafters, Pearle Vision, Target, etc. Not quite a pyramid scheme, but almost.
Here’s an excerpt from their website:
“Luxottica is a leader in the design, manufacture and distribution of fashion, luxury and sports eyewear. Its portfolio includes proprietary brands such as Ray-Ban, Oakley, Vogue Eyewear, Persol, Oliver Peoples, Arnette, Costa del Mar and Alain Mikli, as well as licensed brands including Giorgio Armani, Burberry, Bulgari, Chanel, Coach, Dolce&Gabbana, Ferrari, Michael Kors, Prada, Ralph Lauren, Tiffany & Co., Valentino and Versace. … One of the Group’s competitive advantages is the vertically integrated business model built over the years, covering the entire value chain: design, product development, manufacturing, logistics and distribution.”
Yep. The eyeglass industry seems to have gone the way of Big Pharma. Since they control distribution, they’re free to charge the consumer whatever they can get away with.
November, 2022:
I’ve been trying to find out if I have insurance coverage for glasses. (I don’t, but after NINE phone calls between various optical companies, my insurance benefits office, and a company called Eye-Med, I’ve discovered that I’m eligible for a discount program with Eye-Med that I have to pay for in order to get the discount. And the information on their website is so confusing that I still don’t know how much that discount is.
I’ve gone back to wearing my three-year old glasses for now. I’ll probably try to find a pair on Warby Parker that I like. I just can’t see spending over $800 on a pair of glasses when my prescription changes about once a year.
How much are YOU willing to pay for a pair of good quality eyeglasses?
This is post #3 in this year’s #NaBloPoMo challenge, a.k.a. #NanoPoblano. To follow my blog, just click below where it says “Follow loristory.”
Previously, on Lucky to Live in the ROC (Part 1) and Lucky to Live in the ROC (Part 2), I shared two great places to visit in Rochester, New York: the Little Theatre and Highland Park. In Part 3, I reveal more attractions, including THE FOURTH-OLDEST ROLLER COASTER IN THE WORLD!
SEABREEZE AMUSEMENT PARK
Seabreeze is a historic amusement park situated in a breezy part of town where Irondequoit Bay meets Lake Ontario. It’s been a summer destination for young and old since 1879. I used to go there in the 1960s.
My favorite ride then was Over the Falls, which in those days meant a slow, creaky ride through dank, cobwebby tunnels, and a 40-foot plunge into a pool. Over the Falls eventually got to be over the hill, though (what does that say about me?), and was replaced in 1984 by the Log Flume.
Although I was daring enough to go Over the Falls, I never had the intestinal fortitude to brave the Jack Rabbit, built in 1920. It’s the fourth-oldest roller coaster in the world, but at 102, it’s also the oldest continuously operating roller coaster in America.
Jack Rabbit
Yes, the Jack Rabbit isn’t just old, it’s an antique – entirely constructed of WOOD. And if that isn’t enough to send you screaming from the park, consider this: you’ll be strapping yourself in for a wild ride full of sharp twists and turns on track that clickety-clacks like a rattlesnake (over 2,000 feet of it) , a 75-foot drop, and a dark tunnel signaling the merciful end.
But hold on a minute. If that type of cheap thrill isn’t your cup of tea, there are plenty of other rides here at Seabreeze (including swirling teacups, which caused me to have to sit perfectly still for an hour after being swirled in one of them).
Although Seabreeze Amusement Park happens to be the fourth-oldest operating amusement park in the United States, not all of its rides are old. Here are some of the other rides you’ll see there. Pictured below are the Time Machine, Tilt, Screamin’ Eagle, Revolution 360, Log Flume, Carousel, and Bobsled:
Speaking of old, seniors get in free every Tuesday. They can enjoy all rides for free that day, too. And yes, if you must know, I was there on a Tuesday.
In my next installment of Lucky to Live in the ROC, an epic road trip in search of the perfect pizza leads to some unexpected paintings in the strangest of places.
Be sure to follow my blog so you don’t miss a thing! Just click below, and then look for the small blue button that says “Follow loristory.” Thanks!
If you follow “New Latitude,” my ongoing saga about moving, you were left with a cliffhanger last week. Would my mortgage application be approved? Well, the short answer is: Yes! It was!
But the long answer is: Yes … but I want to wait until I can get the COVID-19 vaccine before driving cross-country (or flying, if that’s what I decide to do) … which might be March or even later … so I don’t know yet when I can move … and I can’t even start packing yet!
I feel a little like a very small mouse in a fragile paper boat, about to set out on a wild journey without a compass, a paddle, or a companion (other than a slice of cheese). Actually, I don’t feel that way entirely, but the picture was so cute I decided to build my entire blog post around it! And in case you missed it the first time, here it is again!
Artist: Victoria Borodinova via Pixabay
In order to deal with the stormy seas of moving, I’ve discovered a few ways to stay afloat:
– music
– cooking
– TV-watching
– daily walks, and
– writing.
If you happen to be moving, remember to take a step back from all the planning and immerse yourself in something relaxing instead.
As far as writing goes, I’ve recently discovered a new Facebook group, “The Isolation Journals.” If you’re interested in writing prompts, or just want some interesting topics to ponder, you may want to join the group. It’s described as “an artist-led journaling community founded by Suleika Jaouad.” (Ms. Jaouad is a writer associated with musician Jon Batiste. I only know of her because I Googled Jon Batiste one night after watching him on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. That’s another way I maintain my sanity. Watching The Late Show, that is. Not Googling. Although that helps, too.)
I dipped my toe in The Isolation Journals a bit late (not until prompt #123, actually). Here’s that prompt:
How can your presence enhance the growth of your community?
I hastily scribbled a response and posted it to the group. I’ve already received two likes. Hey, maybe Jon Batiste will read my post!
Do you keep a journal? Have you moved or are you moving? I’d love to hear about your journey.
Happy winter solstice, everyone! And be sure to follow my blog so you won’t miss the next exciting episode of “New Latitude”!
