I don’t have a dog. Don’t need one. I can eat my own homework. I went to three different events yesterday with the intent of including all three in this post. I’m still going to do that despite the sad fact that they will not be as well documented as I planned. However, before I can even start talking about the three planned activities, I have to tell of my arrival home at the end of the day.
I took quite a few pictures throughout the day and popped out the memory card containing most of them as soon as I reached home. One of the day’s events had been Taste of Cincinnati with 36 restaurants and 18 food trucks. There is no reason anyone would be even slightly hungry after attending such a gathering and I really wasn’t. Nonetheless, I grabbed a few snack crackers from an open box when I walked by it on the way to my laptop. I popped one into my mouth and munched it as I picked up the laptop and headed to the table. I popped in a second one but it didn’t munch so well. It failed to crumble on the first bite so I bit it again before realizing something was terribly wrong. As I juggled laptop, memory card, crackers, and some mail I’d retrieved from the mailbox, the memory card somehow ended up in the hand with the crackers and then in my mouth. Something in it had snapped on that second munch attempt. One bite equals 68,719,476,736 bytes.
My first thought after accepting that the pictures were gone was to post something canned this week. But I had taken some pictures with my phone and those survived. There were enough, I decided, to do a stripped-down version of the three-event post I had planned. Here goes.

Coffee With Tod got the day started at the American Sign Museum. This was the second Saturday morning that museum founder Tod Swormstedt spent sharing some of his knowledge with museum members. During the first one, he picked a few special signs and told about their history, owners, and acquisition. Today he spoke about how “Signs of the Times” magazine has been an inspiration for and something of a predecessor of the museum. “Signs of the Times” is a sign industry trade magazine that Tod’s family was involved with from its beginning and which they owned for most of its life. In the photo, Tod is holding a hardbound copy of the very first issue from 1906. The tenth anniversary of the museum’s move to this building will be celebrated next month with an open-to-all Signmaker’s Circus.
Next up was the Taste of Cincinnati which was first held in 1979 and is now the longest running culinary arts festival in the country. Like many festivals, this one did not happen in 2020 or 2021 due to the COVID pandemic. As mentioned, 36 restaurants and 18 food trucks are participating in this year’s event. I took pictures of many of them and made sure to snap a photo of each one where I made a purchase. Those are all gone and the picture at left is out of sequence. It was taken after I’d done my eating and was ready to leave.

Before the festival is opened to the public, first, second, and third place offerings are picked in four categories. I limited my purchases to the four number ones. In the Soup/Salad/Side category, that was Bulgogi French Fries from YouYu. The Waygu Meatball from Council Oak Steak and Seafood placed first in the Appetizer category. Both were served from the same booth as the two restaurants are part of the Hard Rock Casino.

The only picture on my phone of the Entree winner was my failed attempt to get it and the Procter & Gamble towers in the same picture. I got half of the towers and the side of the container holding Alfio’s Veal Short Rib Ravioli. Pompilio’s Chocolate and Peanut Butter Cannoli won the Desert category and fared much better than the ravioli in the picture department.


Once I’d finished my selective sampling, I walked about a block from the festival and hopped on the streetcar to reach Washington Park. There a number of sculptures made entirely of Duck brand duct tape are on display. Named “Knock It Out of the Park”, the exhibit is all about baseball. I believe I took at least one photo of every sculpture but very few were on my phone.















Missed it by that much. I had this really great idea for a book title, and even figured out the story that would fit it. I would drive one way across the country on the Yellowstone Trail and the other way on US 20. I would do this in the year 2020, and the resulting travelogue would be perfectly described by that catchy title: 20 in ’20 and the YT Too. But COVID-19 played havoc with 2020 travel plans and the wonderful title’s “best if used by” date came and went. I made the planned trip a year later and adjusted the title appropriately. It’s admittedly not quite the same but it’s not horrible. Is it? Well?























This post is a direct violation of one of the claims made on this blog’s “About” page. There the claim is made that “You will not be seeing a review of the latest novel…”. I suppose I could claim that, at the time of this review, The Lincoln Highway: A Novel is no longer the absolute latest novel, but the fact that it is a “#1 New York Times Best Seller” means it is precisely the sort of mainstream major publisher offering I had in mind when I made that claim. My primary defense is that I was tricked into reading it. Realizing that not everyone will see that as a legitimate justification, I will try to minimize the impact of the violation by not doing a very good job.








I got this book from Billy on May 7, 2015. I finished reading it on March 15, 2022. It is, as Billy himself admits and my elapsed reading time confirms, “a difficult read”. “Most people,” he says, “have understandably given up on it.” I was determined not to be like most people — no matter how long it took.
The book has been called a semi-autobiographical novel. According to Billy, it tells about his early life. “The best story I can tell in words is there if one really wants to know it”, he says. The writing style has been called stream of consciousness. In some manner, “stream of consciousness” and “semi-autobiographical” might also apply to the giant metal sculpture that is his life work. Its picture is on the book’s back cover. It is what initially made me and most others aware of Billy’s existence. When I first happened upon the sculpture in 2005, I thought its name, “Billy Tripp’s Mindfield”, might have been the title of a misplaced Beatles song, and learning that William Blevins Tripp is the artist’s real name has not entirely erased that image.
The first Easter post, in 










