Out For A Walk: Honestly Just A Nice Stroll To See Where A Bridge Used To Be

November 7, 2023July 1, 2025 / Ally Bean / 199 Comments

PLEASE NOTE: Yesterday Elisabeth at The Optimistic Musings Of A Pessimist interviewed me for her ongoing series featuring bloggers. I was happy to participate. Go HERE to read the interview.

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I like November.

In my part of the midwest it’s the calm before the storm, the pause before the whirlwind of the holidays. It’s a delightful time to just BE.

Grateful for cool nights and sunny days.

Peaceful and introspective, even.

Consequently while many bloggers worldwide are participating in NaBloPoMo [National Blog Post Month] or NaNoWriMo [National Novel Writing Month], I’m feeling pleasantly detached from writing, inclined to relax into each moment without wordiness.

To wit, as a few of you may recall I used to do posts on this blog in which I shared photos of where I/we went for a walk. Recently I realized that I got away from doing that during the pandemic, shifting into writing more, photographing less.

However today in light of my mellow mood and my lack of verboseness, I’ll post the following photos I took last Friday afternoon when the sun was shining brightly.

We decided to see what was going on with a state project to replace a pedestrian bridge, on a former railroad bridge, that is part of a popular bike path. We wanted to see where the bridge used to be.

And who doesn’t like a post that includes a photo of what isn’t there anymore? 🤔

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This photo was taken while walking through Loveland OH on a beautiful autumn afternoon.

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Locally referred to as the Loveland Bike Trail, the official name of this path is the Little Miami State Park.

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On the bike trail, which is used by runners and walkers as often as cyclists, you can find this building, the Little Miami Conservancy.

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As you get closer to the closed portion of the path you now see this sign.

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And this sign, a free parking sign, that has been tossed casually onto the ground until it is needed again.

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The pedestrian bridge that you do not see here is being replaced by The Ohio Department of Natural Resources.

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This is a photo of the Little Miami River, part of the National Wild and Scenic Rivers System. It is the river over which the bridge that used to be was, and the river that will again have a pedestrian bridge over it once the new one is built.

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A Potpourri Of Pipsqueaks & Problems & Poems, Oh My

October 17, 2023 / Ally Bean / 225 Comments

The Pipsqueak Part – So Much Energy, I Had To Laugh

In the mornings after I wake up my ritual is to brew a pot of coffee, pour myself a mug of the stuff, and [when possible] go outside to drink it whilst gazing upon nature, absorbing the stillness of morning.

Being at one with the universe, dagnabbit.

However the other morning at about 7:20 am, as I’m communing with nature sitting on the deck at the back of our house, I hear noise. It’s a loud unfamiliar sound coming from the front of the house.

What am I hearing?

It’s the kids, the little twerps, kindergartners mostly, in front of our house waiting for the school bus to pick them up. And they are all howling like wolf pups, loudly, with gusto.

Which has prompted neighborhood dogs in backyards, like Irene [Great Dane], and Cookie [Dalmatian], and Rocco [Beagle-ish pound puppy] to join in with the little human wolf puppies, howling louder than the kids.

Creating a glorious cacophony, that while unexpected, got me laughing so hard I almost spilled the coffee in my mug.

And that would never do.

The Problem Part – In Which We Mourn A Loss

After 12 years of service our furnace died. We knew the end was coming but buying a new one isn’t exactly the most exciting use of money. Nonetheless with a loud *sigh* we got a new one.

The new furnace, like its predecessor, is in our unfinished basement. The installation took most of a day and went smoothly under the auspices of a guy I shall call Jake. He was quiet, knowledge, and seemed to have endless energy.

Welp, once the furnace was hooked up Jake had us follow him into the basement so he could explain the new furnace, as in parts and filters, and to show us the new sticker with his name on it saying that he’d installed the furnace.

Every time a maintenance tech comes to service the furnace they leave their initials on the official permanent sticker that starts with the name of the guy who installed it.

Very organized.

But here’s the thing, the unexpected turn in what we assumed would be a standard conversation with Jake, he got choked up when talking about putting his sticker on our furnace.

Come to find out 12 years ago Jake’s beloved mentor, Tom, had installed our old furnace placing his sticker on it. And, as Jake explained, seeing Tom’s writing on the old sticker reminded Jake that Tom had recently died.

Jake was visibly bereft about Tom’s passing, on the verge of tears. Thus while Zen-Den and I politely said things like “my condolences” and “I’m sorry for your loss” Jake stopped talking entirely. Then we three stood in front of our new furnace having an impromptu minute of silence in honor of Tom.

May he rest in peace.

The Poem Part – I Gave It A Try And Here Is What I Wrote

A couple of weeks ago Kari at a grace full life wrote a poem based on an “I Am From” template [HERE]. Then after sharing her poem she politely challenged us to write our own poems.

Challenge accepted!

Below is my poem, titled in the way that Kari did hers, created by following the prompts on the template, but written using my own punctuation because, really, the punctuation on the template makes no sense.

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My “Where I’m From” Poem

I am from legal pads of yellow paper

From office supply stores and college book stores.

I am from the small house on a brick street

Comfy, well-tended, scented with bayberry candles.

I am from hickory nuts,

Purchased whole, shelled, and baked into a birthday cake.

I’m from artificial Christmas trees and frugality

From Daisy Alice and JW.

I’m from helpers and bookworms

From relatives who preached the gospel and taught school.

I’m from Methodists and Presbyterians, a family that went to church but didn’t take it too seriously.

I’m from Ohio and can look to Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Germany to find my ancestors.

I’m from Garibaldi biscuits and strong black loose tea measured in metal tea balls,

From childhood afternoons with my stay-at-home dad who eschewed coffee for tea, always.

The people who came to the USA to farm, and to fight in wars, and to get an education,

Leaving but a few photos of themselves behind,

While handing down antique furniture, most unique.

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The One About Multitasking, Machine Beeps, And Marital Bliss

April 12, 2023 / Ally Bean / 190 Comments

“Monica, you’re all chaotic and twirly, but not in a good way.”

That’s a line from the TV show Friends. Zen-Den said it to me as he walked into the kitchen.

I was in the kitchen doing important things.

I’d just put some cornbread into the oven, chili was in the slow cooker, and on the counter was a new Lands’ End catalogue that I was leafing through looking for some spring-y clothes.

I had a Minwax color chart [36″ x 10″] spread across the kitchen table near the window waiting for the late afternoon sunshine to get over there so I could clearly see the three gazillion and two color choices. And the washer & dryer were doing their things in the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. Also I was keeping an eye on the dishwash that was almost finished with a load.

I WAS MULTI-TASKING, people.

Well before I could say a word back to Mr. Hilarmoose, the dishwasher started beeping: “I’m ready for you to unload me now.” The dryer started beeping: “Hurry, hurry, don’t let these clothes get wrinkled.” And the washing machine finished its dramatic last spin beeping its end of cycle announcment: “now. Now. NOW.”

Plus for good measure the slow cooker, a bit of a hussy, chimed in with a slow seductive beep to tell me: “I’m finished cooking now and will be over here keeping dinner warm.”

“You look busy,” said Mr. Obvious.

“Yes. You could help,” said I as I opened the dishwasher door to let the steam out while dashing past him stopping momentarily to reposition the color chart into the sunshine on my way to rescue the clothes from the dryer.

“Pretty please with sugar on top,” I added because I’m a polite woman* who by then was struggling with the wet towels in the washing machine that didn’t want to go into the dryer without a fight.

SO WHAT DID HE DO? In what way did he help?

With a devilish smile and an ornery gleam in his eye he picked up the catalogue on the counter, moseyed over to the kitchen table where the light was better and said, “you’d look good in the light blue t-shirt.”

Which is true, but really? That’s helping?

And with that commentary, my friends, I’ll leave this tale of marital bliss– or what passes for it around here.

HONESTLY…

Any of this sound familiar to you?!! 🤨

* I’m baffled by something. If you’re on a Keto diet and have given up on sugar do you say: pretty please with bacon on top? Or butter on top? Or suet on top? How do you rework that polite phrase so it has meaning for you?

No Grimness Allowed Here: 1 Wonderful Quote + 3 Wacky Quandaries

September 27, 2022December 8, 2022 / Ally Bean / 224 Comments

David Oglivy is a businessman who is known as the Father of Advertising. More about him here.

ONE

YOU’RE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOUR REFRIGERATOR getting some ice from the freezer compartment. An ice cube falls out and lands on the floor at your feet. Do you:

pick it up and use it;
pick it up and put it in the kitchen sink to melt; or
kick it under the refrigerator to melt there?

TWO

SHOPPING IN MACY’S WOMEN’S LINGERIE DEPARTMENT I overheard a woman telling her friend that she had to buy bras and undies that match because her husband insists that she wear matching ones. This baffled me in MANY ways:

why is this woman in a relationship with such a domineering man– OR is she making this up so she can rationalize spending more money on unmentionables? [my guess is the latter not the former]
if she wears black pants and a white blouse, does she go with all dark undergarments knowing that you’ll see her bra through the white fabric OR does she wear all light undergarments hoping there’s no indication of light undies under her black pants? [a decision tree for this would be helpful]
asking Z-D if he knew what color bra and undies I wore each day, his reply was that he didn’t know, adding that he preferred to see me out of them rather than in them [ain’t he a pip?]

THREE

YOU HAVE ALEXA IN YOUR HOUSE AND every morning you ask her for the day’s local weather forecast. For months she tells you the forecast, then adds “have a good day, Ally.” She is your friend, until one day after telling you the forecast she unexpectedly stops referring to you by name, not even bothering to wish you a good day. Do you: