Attempts at Family Pictures

I like to do group shots of us at least once a year. And every year I remember why we hardly ever took family portraits when I had all five kids at home. It's just fine when it's me and the girls. My girls are focused and ready for action when it comes to taking pictures!





Somehow when the boys enter the mix, it just isn't quite as easy though. I'm not quite sure what the problem is. I can't quite put my finger on it.



Notice the super model who stays spot on, regardless of the distractions!

She's a pro!



Can you guess the drama star of the family?



It doesn't help any when Dad is on the other side and I'm taking the pictures.







That's ok. Someday they will have kids and I can always teach them to do the same!



At least they are old enough to take pictures of us now. That is one sign they are growing up. As for the rest, I have to laugh because they are still such kids at heart at times. I hope they never lose that. Even if it does mean I can't get great family pictures of us all.



Ashleigh, we missed you today! It's just not the same without you. Although as you can see, they can act just as silly without you! Happy Holidays from the silly family!

Tombstone Tuesday :: William and maybe John and Susanna Phend

According to early family papers, John Phend (aka Johannes B'hend) passed away on December 22, 1859 and his wife Susanna (Kübli) Phend died on September 9, 1856. They were both reportedly buried in Hepton Union Cemetery, Kosciusko County, Indiana. However, I have not found any record of their deaths (way too early for "official" state death records) or even a record that they lived in northern Indiana. And the cemetery caretaker does not have record of their burial. Their son, Jacob Phend, moved from Greene County, in southern Indiana, to eastern Marshall County, in northern Indiana, in 1852 and it is possible that his parents were with him at that time. Hepton Union Cemetery is only about two miles from where Jacob's farm in Marshall County was located. In 1856, Jacob purchased a farm in Hepton while maintaining his farm in Marshall County.

The marker with the broken top on the left is that of William Phend, son of Jacob and Louisa. I suspect that the clump of flowers to the right marks the final resting place of John and Susanna Phend. This picture was taken on April 4, .. and you can see part of a broken marker on the left side of the clump of flowers. I've been to the cemetery several since the first time in 1986, in winter and in spring, but found only bits and pieces of a marker, none with any legible writing on them.

We'll probably never know for sure whether John and Susanna are really buried there or not, but it's comforting to some degree to think that they rest in peace beside their grandson.


William's gravemarker in Hepton Cemetery is broken off at the top so the first name is missing, but the remainder reads:
SON OF
J & L PHEND
DIED
Apr. 5, 1875
AGED 19 Y. 7 M. 29 D.
William also died before Indiana began keeping death records and I haven't found an obituary for him either so I don't know what caused his death.

Lessons Learned

Larwill, Indiana combined 3rd and 4th grades, 1936-37 class. Mom is the 4 child from the left in the top row, she was in the 3rd grade. Two of her classmates are still good friends and they attended the birthday open house for mom's 80th birthday last Saturday.

Larwill, Indiana was (and still is) a small rural community about six miles west of Columbia City. Mom's family had moved there in 1935 and she attended the Larwill School for the rest of her school years. Classes for all grades, 1st through 12th, were held in one building, which was only a few blocks from their home.

Of course, mom learned reading, writing and arithmetic in school, along with history, home economics and social studies, but she was an "average" student, and according to her she didn't excel in anything, except making friends! Mom was the middle of five children and since their home wasn't far from school, it was the natural gathering place for all of their friends.

Along with the book learning, she learned how to do housework and help take care of her younger sister and brother. Life lessons learned through firsthand experience that served her well when she had children of her own after graduating in 1946.

When the time came for her to go to work outside the home, she was more than ready! Her first paying job was working in a factory, Playtime Products, in Warsaw, where they made toy baby buggies. Then my grandmother opened a restaurant in North Webster and mom went to work there. Her social skills came in quite handy while working with the customers and the other employees. In 1964, the restaurant was sold and mom got a job in another factory, North Webster Products. They made electrical wiring harnesses for refrigerators, freezers and other appliances. It wasn't easy work, but she was good at it. The company went through many changes over the years, but mom made it through all the lay-offs and downsizings and retired in 1993 after 29 years of service.

One of the most important lessons I learned from mom and the secret to her success, she says, was flexibility and a willingness to learn. Whenever she was asked if she had ever done a certain task, which she hadn't ever done before, instead of just saying "no" she always said "no, but I can give it a try" and invariably she would do just fine, not always, but most of the time. Many of her co-workers were women and many of them refused to even try a new task but she was always willing. She wasn't a perfectionist, but she always did the best that she could. Another lesson learned.

This post was written for the 48th Carnival of Genealogy whose topic is "Mom, how'd you get so smart?"

Hotel Tales and the Statue of Liberty in Colmar

Trivia: Did you know that the sculptor of the Statue of Liberty in New York City is a native of Colmar, France? His name is Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi. The statue was a gift from the people of France to the United States of America.



Statue of Liberty in Colmar









This goes naturally that when you arrive in Colmar, you will also see the Statue of Liberty, but a smaller version and the statue is placed in the middle of a roundabout instead of an island. I learned that there is a replica as well somewhere in Paris, and it was rumoured that the face of the Statue of Liberty is modelled from Bartholdi’s mother.



There is a museum dedicated to Bartholdi and to his works in the city. I was tempted to go but I am not really the museum type. I actually go to museums on very rare occasions. Nevertheless, some ofBartholdi’s works are found on the city streets as he designed several fountains in Colmar.



Hotel where I stayed in Colmar



In Colmar I stayed at the All Season’s Hotel Colmar Centre, a hotel that is part of the Accor & Ibis Group of Hotels. They have a slogan that says—Budget Hotel with Design Interiors for Family which I find misleading because the rooms start at 109 Euros. Is that budget? And what is design? At least this so-called budget hotel came with a free breakfast and use of the wifi.









The business-like room and the view. Remnants of what was once a brewery.







Pictures of the hotel taken from their website.









The colourful breakfast room and my breakfasts. I am not a breakfast person and when I am travelling and a free breakfast is included in the room, I always felt forced to eat them. I loved the juicer that they have. I pressed that orange juice myself.



The reason why I booked this hotel is because it is the cheapest hotel available in the centre with an 8 review score at booking.com. Yes cheapest in the centre at 109 Euros for single pax. There was another one that I really liked but I’m not happy forking out double the price. I’d rather spend the extra money on my dinners. They also advertised that the hotel is a former brewery, and that somehow piqued my interest. That actually closed the deal for me, although I found out later that there was really not much to see of what was once a malt production house.



Nevertheless, I find the hotel a bit like the business hotels I stayed at except that a) the breakfast room is too colourful and b) I am seeing a lot of retirees in groups



My Hotel Tales



On the first night I was in the lobby drinking tea and reading a few magazines. I just had my starred dinner at Le Rendez-vous de Chasse Restaurant and didn’t want to have coffee there as I was already stuffed. When you order coffee at fine dining or Michelin-starred restaurants, they usually bring you an array of sweets with it. I cannot handle that. So I declined coffee and settled for tea at the hotel lobby.







What I quickly noticed in the lobby are the group of retired women playing cards. The old dames were from Germany and they were very friendly to me, flashing smiles at my direction as they played and while I sipped my tea. I saw a few of the dames elegantly dressed. I wondered if I could emulate these elegantly dressed women when I reach their age? Interestingly, they were not the only retired women group that checked-in at the hotel. During breakfast I saw 3 groups, all German retired women and the groups did not know each other.



Hmm, must be the season for pensioned off ladies to go tripping around Europe.



On the second night I sat at the bar and ordered a gewürztraminer. I just came from dinner in Basel, Switzerland and in the mood to have a light nightcap before going to bed.









I overheard another group of retirees talking. 3 Belgian men and an American couple.



Belgian man 1: ‘We are from Brussels.’

Belgian man 2: ‘Brussels you know is the capital of Europe!’

American woman (in shrilly voice): ‘Oh really!!! So, um... do you guys feel French?’



*Belgian guys looking at each other, confused, with eyes wide and about to explode*



Belgian man 3: ‘Uh, what did you say again?’



Me listening at the bar: *palm on my face*



UGH. Total fail. You never ask a Belgian if they felt French (or Dutch). It’s like saying to Americans that they are Canadians, or an Irish that they are English. The cue was already there when the Belgian guys proudly said that Brussels is the capital of Europe! *rolls eyes* (sorry, cannot help it!)



Oh well, when you are travelling you really learn a lot, about people =)

Nick and Tonyia Visit The Villages

Nick and Tonyia came to visit Rich and Donna this weekend. We made plans to get together at our place Friday night, but ended up moving it to Saturday. Ava had fun catching up with Rich and Donna and Nick and Tonyia. Donna brought a mix, and Nathan got to work making us some yummy frozen drinks.



We visited on the lanai for a bit, until it started to rain. Nathan also made us some very yummy fajitas. Donna brought two different kinds of chips and salsa to add to the dinner. We had plenty to eat and it was nice to have a table that we all fit around.



After dinner, we got out the Phase 10 game and played that until quite late. Only half of us had played before so we played a practice hand to teach the others and then we were off and running. We were neck and neck at the end with Nick being the final winner.



This morning we met at Golden Coral and then Nick and Tonyia had to head back out. It was a great weekend that went by much too fast!

Celeste e Bianca: Nice Day for a Ride!

Having finally nursed my celestial beauty back to health, I was ready to take her on a proper test ride... And the snow decided to pick this day of all days to arrive? It felt like the final act of an Italian tragicomic operetta. But since the forecast did not predict snow until late morning, I set off early in hopes of beating the odds. After all the drama with this bicycle, I was not willing to forgo a test ride!



For the past few monthsI had beenpatiently hunting forone of these, but having no luck finding anything in my size and budget. Finally, an online bike-friend found something that seemed perfect and I pounced on it immediately. When the bicycle arrived, it initially seemed that my worst fears about sight-unseen deals were realised and the purchase was a disaster: Not only did every single component seem to require work, but the frame was a larger size than advertised - possiblytoo large for me. I considered just re-selling the bike as-is to save myself the heartbreak. But after much debate and some outside mechanical help, things began to look up and I decided to keep it. Once the wheels were in ridable condition and we put the tires on, the moment of truth came: I did clear the top-tube sufficiently, and so continuing the renovations was deemed worth the risk.



And now here she is: a 54cm Bianchi"Nuovo Racing", circa 1983. Made in Italy,Columbus tubing, some Campagnolo components. When I got the bicycle, everything was original - right down to the water bottle, which I promptly removed.



We replaced the handlebars and brake levers with modern Nitto Noodle bars and Tektro short reach levers. (The original bars and levers were damaged. But even if they hadn't been, I have trouble using vintage ones and am only really comfortable with the Noodle + Tektro combination.)



The original Ofmega stem was 11.5cm long - which felt scary, since the bicycle was already larger than what I was used to. We replaced it with a 7mm stem.



The original 23mm tires were torn to shreds and we replaced them with 28mm gumwall Panaracer Pasela Tourguards. I might eventually switch them with the cream tires on one of my other bikes, but maybe not. The original Modolo Flash brakes on the bike were damaged, and for now we've fitted it with a set of modern Tektro brakes - but they are not an ideal fit, and I am waiting to get a set of vintage Campagnolo brakes from a bike friend which I hope to replace the modern ones with. That should look much better, so I am hoping they work out.



Otherwise, the bicycle is original, including - for now - the foam racing saddle, the shape of which feels surprisingly comfortable. The handlebars are wrapped with white cloth tape and covered in two layers of clear (not amber) shellac - which gives them a nice vintage-cream appearance. The end result is not "period-correct" by any means, but I don't think the modern parts look offensive either. It is subdued and evokes a sense of the early '80s, at least to me.



When you romanticise a particular bicycle and look forward to it too much, there is bound to be disappointment. For me, the disappointment was with the aesthetic aspects. I don't know what I was expecting, because I had poured over catalog pictures of this model before, so nothing should have been a surprise. But I guess, appearance-wise, the bike was more bland than I had anticipated.



I think that I hoped to see "Italian flare", and there simply isn't any. It's a very ordinary-looking early 80s lugged bike, painted turquoise, with a bunch of blue Bianchi decals. Well, that's okay, I thought: Now I know that there is nothing magical about these bicycles. I will either enjoy riding it, or not; either way, it will be a learning experience.



It was not until I rode the bicycle that I began to get attached to it. And make no mistake, get attached to it I did! - How could I have taken these snowy, romantic photos otherwise? I first tried the bike a couple of days ago - with the long stem and faulty original brakes - for just long enough to determine that the stem was too long and the brakes were too faulty, but the ride quality was lovely. After having replaced the stem and brakes, I finally test rode the bicycle properly, just hours before the snow storm arrived. The Co-Habitant was worried about the bike's performance and about the weather, and so he extracted a promise from me to stay close to our neighborhood. And I did - riding for 45 minutes in loops until my hands went numb from the cold (winter glove recommendations for a road bike, please?) and the snowflakes started to fall.



First impressions: The ride quality is nicer than I had expected. There was no harshness at all, and the bicycle was surprisingly stable at low speeds for a racing-style roadbike. The 54cm frame feels large, but I like it - I hope that I will be able to go back to 52cm bikes after this! The lean, even with the shorter stem, is more extreme than what I am used to. But I think I am okay with expanding my comfort zone in this respect. I was able to use the drops and the downtube shifters without feeling too unstable. And most importantly, this bicycle has the same "smooth and comfy" feel that I love so much about myMoser.



Because I have now shown a preference for several bicycles with Columbus tubing, while not being as crazy about my Reynolds 531 vintage Trek, it has been suggested that I might be a "Columbus person and not a Reynolds person". I don't know about that - or at least, I don't think that I have enough experience yet to determine such a thing. But I do know that I will be keeping this Bianchi and that I will be selling the Trek in the Spring. I won't make sweeping generalisations, such as that "I like Italian bikes" - but I do very much like the ride on theBianchi, so far. And as beautiful as the snow is, I do hope it clears up and gives us a chance to ride together again this winter.

Photo Studio - Light Tent

Earlier this week Nikki-Ann purchased a mini photo studio for taking pictures of some of her collectibles. She has a couple of nice examples of the results. The "studio" she mentions sells for about $80 here in the states.

We all have things we'd like to photograph but maybe the cost doesn't quite fit into your budget, can't be justified or perhaps you only have a few things to photograph. The alternative to buying a mini studio is to make one yourself!

Sure. Well, I found two versions of a photo studio/light box you can build yourself and both seem do-able. One is of a temporary nature and is created from a cardboard box while the other is more permanent and uses a frame constructed with PVC pipe. Both sites provide excellent directions. With a little ingenuity, I think these could even be used for taking pictures of photographs that can't be scanned, such as those pasted in albums that would be destroyed if scanned or those too large for the scanner. The light boxes should help eliminate hot spots usually caused by harsh, direct lighting.

I think I might give the cardboard box a try next week. A box, a little tape, and some tissue paper. What could be easier? We'll see.



The photos above show the studio that can be purchased, one that is made from a cardboard box, and one made with PVC pipe. The pictures were obtained from the following sites:

commercial site: http://www.sportsmansguide.com/net/cb/cb.aspx?a=312182
from a box: http://strobist.blogspot.com/../07/how-to-diy-10-macro-photo-studio.html
from PVC pipe: http://www.pbase.com/wlhuber/light_box_light_tent

Hill Training: My Epic Semi-Fail

Over the summer, one of our local bicycle clubs runs what's officially known as the (In)famous Wednesday Night Hill Ride: a loop "encompassing the gnarliest hills in the Boston Metro area." Of course the route does not belong to them and lots of local cyclists who want to cram some serious hills into a relatively short ride use it to train on their own time, particularly racers and randonneurs. Back in July Somervillain began riding this route with a small group as practice for the D2R2 and invited me to join. At the time the very notion was laughable. Me, on the Infamous Hill Route? The women's paceline rides were hilly enough for me, and those were described by the same bicycle club as "mostly flat" (ha!).



But definitions of "hills" are subjective. Fast forward a few months, and mine too had changed. Having gone on a handful of rides with some strong local cyclists, I even developed a new fondness for hills and no longer outright hated them. So when Somervillain suggested the two of us try the Hill Route before the snow arrived, it suddenly seemed like a great idea.What can I say? I am human, I got cocky.



Things started off innocently enough. My level of excitement was almost festive. Finally, I was going to do "real" hills, like the "real" roadies. I managed to get organised and dragged myself out of the house to meet Somervillain at an ungodly morning hour. The temperature was blessedly mild in the high 30s. The sun arose picturesquely over the local Dunkin Donuts parking lot as we convened in front of it on our trusty steeds: he on his '80s Trek racing bike, I on my Moser. It was going to be a great ride! A nice 30 mile ride with some hills in the middle. As we took off, I had a smile on my face (hint: it did not last).



Let me tell you about the Hill Training Route. The part with the proper hills is a 12 mile loop and the elevation profile looks like this. But no technical description or chart can communicate the subjective experience of this ride. The build-up was uninspiring, as we cycled along some ugly main roads with fast suburban traffic. After about 10 miles of that, we turned onto a narrow residential street and began the first climb up a small mountain. The climb began suddenly, and, being out of sight from the main road, there were no visual cues that allowed me to psychologically prepare for it. We turned the corner, and bang! - the very turn itself was already the beginning of a steep, twisty hill. The narrow road wound around the mountain instead of going directly up it, so there was no way to see what was around the bend. Would it get steeper or let up a bit? And how much longer to the top? Not knowing this drained my self-confidence and increased my anxiety tenfold. In addition, there were potholes the size of craters, and I had to zig-zag gingerly around them as I climbed.



My bicycle is geared fairly high (52x39t in the front and 12-26t in the rear), but still I did not expect to max out my gears quite so early on. Click-click-click! Click! And I was done. From that point onward there was no spinning, only pushing, and I still had most of the hill ahead of me. So I pushed on the pedals and heaved myself forward in jolts.



Promptly, my body began to rebel. A pain shot up straight to my right temple, so intense that it clouded my vision. I had a strong urge to throw up. My leg muscles felt as if someone was injecting them with acid. Somervillain was way up ahead of me and around the next bend. I felt intense shame at being so hopelessly terrible at this, even after all the rides I've done to build up to it. I did not see how I could possibly keep going at this rate, and only a stupid, primitive sense of pride kept me pushing. Thoughts such as "Do not stop the bike!" and "Like hell you're going to walk!" were the only things circulating in my otherwise empty mind.



At the top I felt nothing. No elation, no sense of accomplishment. Maybe some anger at my naivite ("You needed to do this, did you? Racers describe this ride as "infamous" and you decided this meant it was suitable for you?"), but otherwise nothing. I drank water and looked around blankly for Somervillain. Somehow I'd managed to lose him. Could he have taken a different side street to descend? I cycled around the maze of streets along the side of the mountain, climbing some smaller hills for no reason other than to keep warm. I was now shaking violently. Then it occurred to me that we both had phones. I phoned, he picked up immediately, we realised what had happened to separate us and agreed to meet back at the base of the hill. It was pretty apparent to me that I could not continue the ride, and he could hear it in my voice as well. I cycled down to meet him with my head hung low and my face a deep crimson.



I am not entirely sure how we ended up repeating the climb (yes, you read that correctly). I think it may have started out as a suggestion in jest. But long story short, we climbed the same hill again. Oddly it went easier the second time around, despite my utter sense of depletion. Maybe knowing what to expect made it easier. Once again I maxed out my gears and pushed myself up in jolts the whole way, but with a clearer sense of when to expect an end to the hellish ordeal. In the last stretch, my breaths were coming out in audible heaves: Hee! Haw! Not unlike the sound of a tortured donkey. And then again it was over. At the top we stopped in a parking lot behind a small, shabby water tower. I tried to eat a piece of an energy bar, but nearly threw it up. I did drink more water and kept that down. My hands were trembling. We agreed that we were done for now: descend carefully, then back to Somerville. Two difficult climbs was not so bad given my lack of experience.



Cycling home, we transitioned to the Minuteman Trail and enjoyed the glorious sunshine. We chatted casually about this and that and began to contemplate where would be the best place to stop for coffee.



And then I opened my mouth and said: "You know what? I am not tired anymore. This always happens, I begin to feel more energetic at the end of a ride."



And he said: "Oh yeah? Do you feel like going back and doing the last climb of the route then? We have time before I need to be at work."



And I said... Well, what could I say. I couldn't exactly back out of it at that point! So we rode to Arlington Heights for the last climb.



This climb was very different and I am so glad I did it. It was a big, open road that went straight up instead of winding, and I could see exactly how far it was to the top. It was a steep climb of about a mile and again I maxed out my gears fairly early on, but somehow it was just a more rewarding experience. This road had nice scenery and a more pleasant atmosphere; I just felt better riding there despite the same horrible pain in my legs and the same shortness of breath. Seeing that I had about a mile of this ahead of me, I somehow "settled into" the climb and relaxed. The entire time I was thinking "Oh my God, am I actually... enjoying this?" Somervillain was way ahead of me of course, so I had no illusions about my speed. When he stopped at the top and turned around to check how I was doing, I gave a thumbs up and smiled.



Upon reaching the top, I was delighted by the sight of a beautiful stone water tower surrounded by a small park. I had never been here before, and it's always nice to discover a new scenic spot. Suddenly, everything began to seem okay, even funny. It wasn't so bad. I really should have done the middle two climbs of the route instead of bailing so early on. To make me feel better, Somervillain pointed out that we'd really done more like 3 out of 4 climbs, since we did the first one twice. Plus we'd cycled 30 miles over all. Let's call it a modified route. After taking some pictures, we descended down a monstrous hill with a view of the Boston skyline, climbed another short but steep hill, and then cycled home for real with a quick coffee before parting ways.



On my way home I stopped by the Co-Habitant's office to say hello. He laughed and said I was incoherent, clearly still coming down from a post-cycling high ("and then... and then... there was a TOWER! And I almost gave up, but... tower!")



Sigh. I guess I should be grateful that even in my 30s I can enjoy the little things. I am pretty terrible at this roadcycling stuff, especially hills. But God, I love it anyway. We'll be doing this ride again. And thank you, Somervillain!