Brought to You by Banner & Balboa: Two Professional Nappers

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cat curled up napping after losing an hour to Daylight Saving Time

National Napping Day: The Holiday We Actually Need After the Time Change

If you’ve been following along here on Around Dusty Roads, you know I’ve spent the past week or so grumbling, musing, and generally side‑eyeing Daylight Saving Time. And now that we’ve all “sprung forward” and lost an hour of sleep we never agreed to give up, it’s only fair that today brings us a little mercy.

Enter National Napping Day — the unofficial, absolutely essential holiday that arrives the Monday after the time change. In 2026, that’s today, March 9.

Honestly? This might be the most sensible holiday on the calendar.

Why Today Exists (And Why We Deserve It)

National Napping Day was created back in 1999 by a Boston University professor and his wife — which feels very on‑brand for New England. Only here would someone look at a population of overtired, cranky, sleep‑deprived people and say, “You know what? Let’s make this official.”

The idea was simple:
We lose an hour.
We feel awful.
We should nap.

Science backs them up. Even a short 20‑minute nap can boost alertness, improve mood, and help counteract the grogginess that hits hard after the clocks jump ahead.

And here’s a little personal observation: since retiring, I nap almost every day. It’s become one of the unexpected perks of this new chapter. And no — it doesn’t mess with my nighttime sleep. My bladder and the cats take care of that all on their own. If anything, the nap is the most predictable part of my sleep schedule.

Honestly, if humans took their cues from cats, we’d all be better rested. Banner and Balboa nap with the confidence of creatures who know they’re right.

 

 

A Few Fun Napping Facts

  • A quick nap can improve reaction time and reduce fatigue‑related accidents.
  • Napping helps regulate emotions (which explains why I’m less likely to yell at the microwave afterward).
  • Some cultures have been napping for centuries — the siesta is practically an art form.
  • Even Charlemagne was a napper. If it’s good enough for an emperor…
  • And of course, cats nap up to 16 hours a day. Banner and Balboa would like it noted that they are professionals and we should follow their lead.

How to Celebrate (Spoiler: The Cats Already Know)

  • Find a quiet spot between 1–3 p.m.
  • Set a timer for 10–20 minutes so you don’t wake up wondering what century it is.
  • Dark room, cozy blanket, maybe a weighted eye mask if you’re feeling fancy.
  • If you can’t nap, even closing your eyes for a few minutes helps reset your brain.
  • Or — and hear me out — take a page from the cats. Banner warms his butt on the stove when the oven’s on, Balboa curls up in a glass bowl like he’s auditioning for “Cat Tetris,” and both of them nap anywhere, anytime, without apology. They give National Napping Day their full stamp of approval.

Bonus tip: Try a “coffee nap” — drink a little caffeine right before your nap. By the time you wake up, the caffeine kicks in. It’s like a cheat code for adulthood.

Banner’s got the mug. He’s just waiting for the nap to kick in.

Cat‑Approved Napping

I have plenty of photographic proof that naps are not only acceptable but strongly encouraged in this household. Banner and Balboa are champion nappers — bed, couch, sunny patch on the floor, glass bowl, you name it. If there’s a soft surface (or even a hard one), they’re on it, asleep, living their best lives.

So if you need permission to take a nap today, just look at these two. They’ve given National Napping Day their official stamp of approval — and they take their roles very seriously.

 

Bottom Line

If Daylight Saving Time took something from you, National Napping Day is here to give a little back. So whether you curl up with a cat, stretch out on the couch, or sneak a quick snooze in your favorite chair, consider it your civic duty.

Just ask Banner and Balboa — champions of the mid‑morning, mid‑afternoon, and “just because” nap. They’ve been training for this holiday their whole lives.

Endorsed by the Feline Nap Authority

 

The Iditarod: A Tale of Compassion and Heroism

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 How Long It Lasts, Why It Exists, and Why It Still Captures Our Imagination

Every March, as New England is deciding whether to roar like a lion or bleat like a lamb, Alaska is gearing up for something far more dramatic: the start of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. It’s one of those events that feels half‑myth, half‑modern sport, and if you’ve ever wondered how long it actually takes to cross Alaska by dog team, the answer is… longer than you think, but shorter than you’d expect.

Let’s dig in.

Denali🕰️ So How Long Does the Iditarod Last?

Most mushers complete the 1,000‑mile journey from Anchorage to Nome in 8–15 days.

  • The front‑runners often arrive in about 8–9 days.
  • The middle of the pack usually finishes around 10–12 days.
  • The Red Lantern — the final finisher — typically comes in around 13–15 days, sometimes a bit more depending on weather and trail conditions.

And weather is no small thing. This is Alaska in March. One day it’s clear and sparkling; the next it’s a whiteout where you can’t see your own dog team. The trail crosses mountains, frozen rivers, sea ice, and long stretches of nothing but wind and snow. It’s beautiful, brutal, and unforgettable.

🎉 Why There’s a Start… and Then a Restart

This is one of my favorite quirks of the race.

The Iditarod actually begins twice:

The Ceremonial Start — Anchorage

Held on the first Saturday in March, this is the fun, festive kickoff. Crowds line the streets, kids get autographs, and the dogs are practically vibrating with excitement. It’s a short, slow run — more parade than race — and it gives spectators a chance to see the mushers up close.

The Official Restart — Willow

On Sunday, the teams head north to Willow, where the real race begins. This is where the clock starts ticking and the wilderness takes over. Anchorage is a city; Willow is the gateway to the interior. It’s the difference between a celebration and a thousand‑mile test of endurance.

🩺 The History: A Race Born From a Medical Emergency

The Iditarod may be a modern sporting event, but its roots go back to one of the most dramatic rescue missions in American history.

In the winter of 1925, a diphtheria outbreak threatened the remote town of Nome. The only way to get life‑saving serum there was by dog team — over hundreds of miles of frozen wilderness. More than 20 mushers and around 150 dogs relayed the medicine across Alaska in what became known as the Great Serum Run.

Balto

Two dogs became legends:

  • Balto, who led the final team into Nome
  • Togo, who led the longest and most dangerous leg of the journey

Togo

Both were heroes. Both saved lives. And their courage is the spiritual backbone of today’s Iditarod.

The race we watch now isn’t a reenactment, but it honors that history — the grit, the teamwork, and the bond between musher and dog.

❄️ A Personal Note: My Own Dog‑Sledding Adventure

When I visited Alaska in 2013, I had the chance to go dog sledding myself. Let me tell you — those dogs live for it. The moment the musher picked up the brake, the team practically levitated. They weren’t just ready to run; they were begging for it.

It gave me a whole new appreciation for the Iditarod. You can read about it, you can watch it, but until you feel that sled glide over the snow behind a team of eager dogs, you don’t quite understand the magic.

🐕 What Kind of Dogs Run the Iditarod?

Forget the movie‑poster Siberian huskies. Most Iditarod dogs are Alaskan huskies — a mixed breed developed specifically for endurance, intelligence, and love of running.

A few things people are often surprised to learn:

  • These dogs are born to run. It’s not just instinct — it’s joy.
  • They sleep curled up in the snow because it’s comfortable for them.
  • Their coats are so insulating that snow often doesn’t melt on their fur.
  • They eat like Olympic athletes because… they are.

If you’ve ever worried that sled dogs are pushed too hard, watching them at the start line will cure you of that. The challenge isn’t getting them to run — it’s getting them to wait.

🌌 Why the Iditarod Still Matters

It’s more than a race.
It’s history, wilderness, teamwork, and tradition.
It’s a reminder that even in a world of satellites and smartphones, there are still places where nature sets the rules.

And for a few weeks every March, we get to watch humans and dogs take on one of the last great adventures.

 

Cast Iron Pan–Roasted Chicken Breasts

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Another Cast Iron Skillet Recipe

I can’t believe I have another cast iron skillet recipe to share—and this one is so simple it’s almost laughable. Honestly, I don’t know why I never thought of it before.

Chicken is a staple in my house. It’s usually cheaper than beef and always easy to find. I keep chicken breasts or tenders wrapped and frozen so I can thaw them for a quick meal. Roast chicken, schnitzel, chicken and broccoli… the list goes on.

Recently I read a cooking article claiming that roasting chicken breasts in a cast iron pan gives you juicier, more tender results than using a baking dish. I’ll admit, I raised an eyebrow. But I do love my cast iron pans, so of course I had to try it. And I bet you know where this is going—the expert was right. Cleanup was a breeze, too.

They offered all kinds of variations, but for my test run I kept it simple. No cheese, no breadcrumbs—just a naked chicken breast with a little salt and pepper.

Cast Iron Pan–Roasted Chicken Breasts

Ingredients

  • 2 bone‑in chicken breasts (I only had boneless and they worked perfectly)
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon oil

Instructions

  1. Preheat oven to 425°.
  2. Preheat your cast iron pan on the stovetop for a few minutes (a 10‑inch pan fits two breasts).
  3. Generously salt and pepper the skin side of the chicken breasts.
  4. Add butter and oil to the pan at the same time.
  5. When the butter and oil are melted and hot, place the chicken in the pan, skin side down.
  6. Let it sear for a few minutes.
  7. Season the other side with salt and pepper.
  8. Flip the chicken and let the second side sear for a minute or two.
  9. Transfer the pan to the oven and roast for 20–30 minutes, or until the chicken reaches an internal temperature of 165° (use an instant‑read thermometer).
  10. Let the chicken rest for 5 minutes before slicing.

I served mine over boil‑in‑bag rice cooked in water flavored with chicken broth. Add the sliced chicken, a squeeze of lemon juice, and voilà—a meal to remember. The chicken was juicy and flavorful, the salt and pepper formed a beautiful crust, and my well‑seasoned cast iron pan wiped clean without a fuss.

This one is definitely joining my dinner rotation.

 

Daylight Saving Time: The Time Change We Just Can’t Shake

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It’s early March, which means two things in New England:

  1. We’re all pretending it’s spring even though the wind still bites.
  2. The annual Daylight Saving Time debate is warming up faster than the weather.

And because I can’t resist a good trivia rabbit hole, I stumbled across a Jeopardy clue that sums up our relationship with DST better than anything else:

Clue: To combat fuel shortages, Congress enacted this for almost 10 months in 1974, from January to October.
Category: “D” in American History
Value: $600

Yes — the answer is Daylight Saving Time.
We didn’t just “spring forward” that year. We practically launched ourselves into permanent daylight.

We Tried a Long-Term Relationship… It Didn’t Go Well

The idea wasn’t new. Allegedly, Benjamin Franklin pitched something similar to save candles. Germany used it during World War I to conserve fuel. And in 1974, during the energy crisis, Congress said, “Let’s try this full-time.”

Ten months later, after dark winter mornings and a nation full of cranky schoolkids, the experiment quietly ended. But the twice‑a‑year clock shuffle? That stuck around like a houseguest who never got the hint.

Every Year We Swear We’re Done With It

By now, the pattern is predictable.
Early March rolls in, and suddenly:

  • Congress floats a bill
  • Someone suggests permanent DST
  • Someone else suggests permanent Standard Time
  • Committees form
  • Studies are commissioned
  • We all complain
  • And nothing changes

It’s the legislative equivalent of “We should really get together sometime” — said with no intention of actually scheduling anything.

And Yet… Here We Are Again

Daylight Saving Time officially ends on the first Sunday in November, but the real cycle ends when we stop grumbling about it — which, let’s be honest, is never.

We tell ourselves it saves energy.
We tell ourselves it gives us more daylight.
We tell ourselves it’s tradition.

Mostly, we tell ourselves whatever gets us through that groggy Monday morning after the switch.

Countdown to the Clock Shuffle

So here we are, early March, inching toward the big weekend.
Coffee makers are bracing themselves.
Humans are sighing.
And the cats? Well…

Banner and Balboa are thrilled.

In their world, Daylight Saving Time is the greatest invention since the treat bag.

Breakfast arrives a whole hour earlier — a development they fully support and believe should be made permanent immediately.

If Congress ever needs motivation to finally pick a time and stick with it, they

should consult the feline lobby. Banner and Balboa have notes.

What About You?

Do you love the extra evening light, dread the clock change, or simply follow your pets’ lead and accept breakfast whenever it arrives?

 

My Brain Saw a Dance Troupe. What do you see?

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The Water Lily Harvest of the Mekong Delta

When I first looked at this picture, my brain took a hard left turn. I thought I was seeing dancers in swirling grass skirts, caught mid‑spin in some kind of joyful festival. I wasn’t even close. Now that I know what’s actually happening, I can kind of see it — but if you’d left me to guess, I’d still be insisting it was a troupe of performers twirling in unison. I did manage to get two things right: they are dancers of a sort, and it is an aerial view. Everything else? Not so much.

What you’re really looking at is the annual water lily harvest in Vietnam’s Mekong Delta — a tradition as beautiful as it is practical.

A Seasonal Ritual in the Delta

Each year, when the southern Vietnamese rice fields flood between August and November, the waterways transform into vast gardens of long‑stemmed water lilies. These blooms — usually pink or white — rise to the surface in spectacular numbers, turning the flooded landscape into something that looks almost otherworldly. For generations, families in the region have relied on this seasonal abundance. The harvest isn’t just a job; it’s a cultural rhythm woven into the life of the Delta.

How the Harvest Works

At first glance, the workers look like they’re performing a choreographed dance, and honestly, the comparison isn’t far off. Wearing traditional conical hats, they wade waist‑deep through the water, gently pulling lilies from the shallows. The long stems are gathered into spiraling bundles — the “skirts” you see in the photo — and floated beside small wooden boats. The process is slow, careful, and surprisingly graceful. Every movement is deliberate, shaped by generations of practice and an intimate understanding of the waterways.

More Than Just a Pretty Flower

Water lilies hold a special place in Vietnamese culture. They’re used for decoration, of course, but they also show up in the kitchen. The stems add a crisp, slightly tangy note to local dishes, especially the region’s beloved sour soup. Nothing goes to waste. The harvest season also brings communities together. It’s a time when traditions are passed down, families work side by side, and the Delta’s way of life is celebrated. In recent years, the sight of the harvest — with its vivid colors and mesmerizing patterns — has drawn photographers and travelers from around the world.

Supporting Local Livelihoods

Beyond the beauty, the water lily harvest is an important source of income. The flowers and stems are sold in markets throughout the region, helping sustain families who depend on seasonal work. Tourism has added another layer of economic support, as visitors come to witness the harvest and explore the Delta’s unique landscape.

A Living Portrait of the Mekong Delta

The water lily harvest is one of those rare traditions that blends necessity, artistry, and cultural heritage. It’s a reminder of how closely the people of the Mekong Delta live with the rhythms of nature — and how something as simple as a flower can shape a community’s identity. If you ever find yourself in southern Vietnam during the early morning hours of harvest season, you’ll see the lilies at their most vibrant. And who knows — you might even catch yourself mistaking the workers for dancers too.