TeamReedBlog.2020

 We're back from our long and winding road trip to Maine, and the only regrets I have are that I didn't stay longer at the lake with Jen and Peter and that I didn't arrange for lawn care while we were gone. The yard was WILD upon our return. I missed the peak bloom of my Fire King and Day lilies and there was a small forest of volunteer Morning Glories in the back yard. I'm still trying to tame it all, and was super happy to see a Hydrangea I'd about given up on in the back struggling to shoot its blooms out among the emerging Brown Eyed Susans, which are threatening to take over the place. The Canna Lilies broke out, too, with more on the way, and the Dahlias are shooting up out front. I'll be out there for a while over the next several days. Send Aleve. I'll drop a bunch of links in my summer trip summarization if you're a mind to traipse about as well. The highlights : Indy to the Canadian side of Niagra Falls and Niagra on the Lake :  a pairing I hig...

The young raccoon gang remains in my neighborhood but they've gotten stealthier. We haven't seen them since I took photos/videos last week. I know they're still here because they're still dropping packages. Raccoon poop is rank, man.  Ali's boyfriend, Beau, upon seeing my videos of them, begged me to "forgive them their sins," and let them be, and I did plan to relent. But then the poop bombs began again and I'm about to go Dana Hamilton on them.  Dana and I grew  up together. She recently posted about victory over a mole that had been plaguing her. I'll spare you the photos, but man, don't mess with Dana.  Anyway, it's been a rainy late spring. We've been biting our nails watching the Pacers in the playoffs, and last night we finally saw Caitlin Clark play in the flesh. Didn't expect fights at a WNBA game, but there were two incidents that are still making the rounds on social media. The Fever game was more violent than the No King...

I don't know who needs to hear this, but I am not a pet owner. To paraphrase young Alison Reed, "I don't have a dog. I don't have a cat. I don't have a pet." She followed that up with no brother or sister either, none of which - including a pet unless you count a short-lived fish from the fair - we ever blessed her with. We're clear? We do not have a pet. Why, then, am I repeatedly finding what I suspect is dog poop in my yard? On my driveway. In both front and back yards. In two different window wells.  Now, I'm no expert on excrement. I rejoiced when we finally said goodbye to diapers and I will forever hold dear Miss Debbie and the rest of the Day Nursery team who helped Alison learn to deal with her own bodily creations. I didn't enjoy the diaper yeas. I don't even like dealing with poop when I'm the one producing it.  And I certainly don't spread it around the neighborhood.  This is not the rando pooper; just an illustration. I lik...

I’ve been toying with the idea of retiring from my professional PR career for a while now and have been cutting back for more than a year. It’s remarkably hard to step away when you have clients who you love, who you trust, who work to make the world a better place and who seem to hold you in the same high regard.  It was a different century when I made my first two hard work-related decisions. The first was to leave the newspaper that had welcomed me into journalism long before I had any right to be there to go to another. The second was to leave journalism for the “dark side” of the notebook and try my hand at public relations. Each transition led to many wonderful things and made me a believer that change is usually good. I was 15 when I officially joined the workforce, which meant I had to get some sort of waiver to avoid child labor laws. I don’t count babysitting or the three days I earned a paycheck detasseling corn (a rite of passage in rural Indiana but not good for shor...

Today's offering comes from the desk of Amy Tokash, who was spring cleaning and came across some photos that have been gathering dust there for more than 20 years. She shared them with the Captain and me. It elicited this gem:  " I was looking at those pictures Amer sent. Man. That one of you on the top of that car? I see what I saw in you." I totally remember the chicken limo and the fun we had with that. It started with us -  Amy, Lynda, Annmarie and I  - taking turns  driving around town in the Chicken Limo .  Back then, you drove the car. In the current iteration, they apparently have a driver, which to be fair is probably less of a liability risk. When we hired it, the car was already ancient with sagging seats that we had to put pillows in for some of us to see over the dash. We had the windows down, probably to overcome the stench of vomit that was surely deep in the seats and upholstery.   The car was unwieldy and the bushes between the our house an...

One short weekend in the Big Apple does not a real New Yorker make, but when Ali spied a rat in the subway, we decided we had earned our NYC bona fides. In what we hope is the first of many girl trips for the Reeds of Maine, Indiana and Florida, Ali, Jen and I met up in New York for part of the back end of Alison's Spring Break. It's a testament to Alison's thirst for good food, fun and travel that she gave us some of her time, but neither Jen nor I care about why she agreed to hang out with us. We're just glad she did. Me most of all because I've been plagued lately with leg pain that I'm hoping isn't another fake hip knocking on my door. The pain has found a friend in a nagging pain and numbness in a couple toes on my other foot and the pad of that foot. So between the leg and the foot, I can be bit of a mess. I learned this week that I have a neuroma in that foot, aka an inflamed nerve, which might have been exacerbated by the cute boots I wore to the air...