Tempo and Speed

Everybody Loves Chocolate

2012-02-14T08:47:00.000-05:00

And here's proof.

Helios' Pinewood Derby Car 2012

Sunday Schooled - Grammy Edition

2012-02-12T20:30:00.000-05:00

If you were a teen in the 80s, you know what I mean when I say, "Word up!" or at least you know from where that phrase came. As grammatically incorrect as it is, Word Up is embedded in my mind forever. Thank you Cameo. It's the 80s version of today's ubiquitous "I know, right?" with the lilting inflection that every tweenager and beyond seems to have perfected. Can anyone tell me where that came from? Not from Cameo. Either way, I think they both are meant to show approval or comprehension. Word up? I know, right?

None of this has anything to do with the Grammy Awards other than that was a catchy title to get you reading on Grammy Sunday. I don't think Cameo evey won a Grammy. Or did they?

Back in the 80s, I never envisioned that thirty years later my Word Up would be in the form of kitchen decor. I had a blank bulkhead in the kitchen that needed something.

That red area above the sink looked naked.

We decided to paint a catchy phrase on the bulkhead. La Cucina had already been done. Instead we opted for something that meant something to us and settled on our phrase (I can't tell you what it is yet.)

But then we remembered that painting letters would require some skills that we do not possess.

So we got a problem. Yeah, who'll solve it? Not Vanilla Ice, silly. The answer is always online.

We found wordsanywhere.com and our bulkhead will never be the same.Wordsanywhere allows you to order custom lettering in font, color and size of your choice in easy to apply (and later remove if you so choose) vinyl that looks like the painted work of an artiste or at least someone really good with graphics.

Your custom phrase comes sandwiched between two sheets of wax-like, grid paper with simple directions for application. You position your phrase and peel off the backing. Then, with a credit card style applicator, gently rub the letters on to the wall and off the front sheet of paper.

Easy and quick to apply! Inexpensive too.

And doesn't our bulkhead look happy?

Now, about the mysterious phrase. It's not in English and I'm not going to tell you what it says. Does that make you mad? I had you wait all this time, missing part of the Grammy Awards and I just leave with unanswered questions. But I know someone out there can figure it out. If you can, post a comment with the translation, the language and for bonus points, the source (think 90s). For those of you who have been to my house recently (or if you are my mom), please don't answer and spoil everyone else's fun. That wouldn't be fair. I know, right?

Word up!

Let Them Eat Cake Balls!

2012-02-09T23:39:00.000-05:00

In the category of yum, I'd like to enter cake balls.

Cake balls are likely old news to you. They have been the topic of blogs for a few years now, I think. I've seen cake balls go like hot cakes at parties recently. They are middle-aged news to me. A trendy friend told me about them some time ago. She had been making them for a while. But rather than jump on the cake ball wagon immediately, I waited. But let me say now...I wonder why I waited so long.

We have a little event coming up where there will be many guests and the need for lots of food. I thought to make cake balls to serve since the recipe makes several dozen. So I read through a number of recipes on the web, talked to a few trendier friends about their cake ball escapades and set aside a day for making cake balls.

I must interject here that all I can think about when I say "cake balls" is Alec Baldwin in SNL's Schweddy Balls skit. If you don't know that one, Google it. Unless you are my mother, in which case, don't Google it and just keep reading here.

Back to my cake balls. Like I do with most recipes I find, I made these recipes my own by adding a few personal tweaks. The basic cake ball recipe is this:

Bake a box cake mix according to package directions. It doesn't matter what pan size or shape you choose because you will deface the cake once it is baked.
When completely cooled, remove cake from pan and thoroughly crumble it in a large bowl until it resembles, well, crumbs.
Completely mix cake crumbs with a tub of frosting. It should be a thick, moist consistency. You could stop right now and eat the entire bowl if no one is watching you.
If you are being watched and therefore must continue with the recipe, form spoonfuls of cake mix into balls and place on a waxed paper covered cookie sheet. Stick the balls, except for the three to five that you jam in your mouth, into the freezer for at least one hour.
Nap off sugar buzz.
After ~~your nap~~ balls are frozen, melt chocolate or other flavor for dipping. Dip balls with a toothpick into coating. Return dipped balls to wax paper to set and cleverly cover toothpick hole with a sassy garnish.
Depending on the size of the balls and how many you eat during the production, you might end up with as many as 4 dozen cake balls. I suspect you will have fewer than that.

Those are the basics. I made two different flavors and used two different dipping methods. I needed a lot of balls so I used the opportunity to try both ways. They both turned out great and neither one was easier than the other. But good to know.

First I made these cuties.

I used lemon cake mix and lemon cream frosting. The coating is vanilla flavored almond bark with 2 teaspoons of lemon extract stirred in. I used the microwave melting method and thinned it for dipping with about 1 tablespoon Crisco shortening (yes! I've been looking for a reason to use that old tin of it.) The sassy garnish is yellow candy "melts" melted and squeezed from a bottle in a cute little flower design then topped with chocolate sprinkles. They sort of look like the Maryland state flower, the Black-eyed Susan, don't you think? And they taste like a slice, or, ball of lemon heaven.

Next I made these little devils.

These handsome things are made with german chocolate cake mix and coconut pecan frosting. The coating is Baker's German's Sweet Chocolate Bar. That is not a typo. It's really called Baker's German's. Click here to see what I'm talking about. That chocolate is so good. My brothers and I used to sneak it from my Oma's kitchen cupboard. I gave my boys a square to eat while I melted the rest. Now they know the secret of Baker's German's too. I melted this in a double boiler and didn't have to add anything for thinning.

And by now you know that those aren't just crushed pecans on top of those chocolate balls, but serve double duty in beauty and function as they cover the toothpick holes and warn those with peanut and treenut allergies that these balls may be lethal. Thus, they are beautiful, ingenious and delicious to the allergy-free.

So went my cake ball adventure. My cake balls are delicious. They were well worth the wait. They are addictive. But I will tell you, they are not Schweddy.

The Good News Show

2012-01-26T11:50:00.000-05:00

We call CBS Sunday Morning the "Good News Show." It is the one and only news magazine type show I have found that focuses on all positive, uplifting news stories. Good news actually does exist out there even if it's hard to find on most news shows.

We DVR the show each Sunday morning and watch it sometime later, usually with the kids. They love it too and were the ones who gave it its nickname. In addition to the positive stories, each episode ends with footage of some beautiful, nature scene accompanied by nature's soundtrack: chirping birds, whispering wind, babbling brooks. It's a 30-second, peaceful reminder of the simple beauty that abounds in our country and a pleasing offset to the chirping and babbling that occurs on most other news-type shows.

The Good News Show had a very interesting and amazing story this past Sunday. Seems a 17-year-old high school student has potentially found a cure for cancer in her spare time. Angela Zhang wrote a research paper which she shared with her chemistry teacher. The paper contained a recipe for curing cancer. Quoting from the CBS news interview,

Angela's idea was to mix cancer medicine in a polymer that would attach to nanoparticles -- nanoparticles that would then attach to cancer cells and show up on an MRI. so doctors could see exactly where the tumors are. Then she thought that if you aimed an infrared light at the tumors to melt the polymer and release the medicine, thus killing the cancer cells while leaving healthy cells completely unharmed.

Since her initial research paper, Angela's idea has been tested in Stanford University labs where the tumors in mice have almost completely disappeared when exposed to Angela's recipe. Maybe by the time Angela finishes her future doctorate, we'll know if her recipe works on human cells.

Now if that's not good news, I don't know what is.

See the whole story at the CBS Sunday Morning site.

Text Messaging with My Kids

2012-01-25T14:04:00.000-05:00

Our kids are too young to be into texting the way some tweens and all teens are. But one (or both) of them found a way to text me old school.

I was surprised to find that message on my apparently not so secret chocolate stash.

Bet the culprit or two will be surprised to find this message I left for him...or them.

I could have left one of these messages:

U R Ded!

or

C U in the wood shed!

or

Not 4 U!

I'll save those messages for their next visit to my stash. I've counted the remaining pieces. Is that bad?

Sunday Schooled - Myth Busters

2012-01-22T09:46:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the first installment of Sunday Schooled 2012. This is where I share newly found information gained through my parenting adventures. Sunday Schooled is where I expose my pure ignorance and the accompanying bliss that is ruined by my newfound knowledge.

Today is a health lesson courtesy of my youngest son.

Helios,being full of limitless boy energy, unsuccessfully took a leap from atop our backyard picnic table. The jump was unsuccessful in that he landed a bit wonkily on his ankle. It immediately swelled. We immediately iced, elevated it and started Motrin. He was able to walk on the bum leg and by the next day was running. So no worries, right? My husband and I assumed it was just a sprain. From our medical experience, if you can walk on it, it's a sprain. If you can't walk on it, it's broken.

The pesky swelling held fast so we bought ourselves a visit to the pediatrian, a visit to the orthopedist, an x-ray, and two co-pays. And a walking cast and a stylish velcro boot.

Apparently, the human body has changed a lot since back in the days when my husband and I were spraining ankles left and right. Or left and right ankles as it were. Seems these days the "walk equals sprain/no walk equals broken" has been labeled a myth. Seems that kids have things called growth plates at the ends of certain long bones. Seems these cartilaginous growth plates can break and the kid can still walk, run and play kickball...for a day or five.

Yes, for five days we let our child, with his unknown cracked growth plate, walk, run, play kickball and do all the other things eight year-olds do with their intact growth plates. And he seemed fine; which only supports another myth I like to perpetuate which is that kids are made of rubber. Our orthopedist shot that one down too.

Just so we don't appear completely neglectful, the pediatrician visit was on day 2 and they apparently still follow the "walk equals sprain" theory. Hmmmm.

The end of the story is that Helios gets to wear a walking cast for four weeks. His biggest concern is that he can't play kickball at recess during that time. I personally find that a benefit given this new information regarding growth plates and kids not being made of rubber.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but what about my growth plates???

Sunday Schooled - Myth Busters

2012-01-22T08:00:00.005-05:00

Sticks and stones may break my bones but what about my growth plates???

What Evil Lurks?

2012-01-20T07:46:00.000-05:00

I am sure you are wondering what beast could have done such damage in our home. Remember this from just yesterday?

What creature could have shredded that very important white thing beyond all recognition? What evil did we willingly bring into our home only to be rewarded with destruction of property? It's not what, it's who...

It was Delta the MicroHound.

Delta only stands a mere seven inches tall. Really, just look at how she fits perfectly on her tennis ball.

It's hard to believe such tiny dog with such a sweet face could have caused such damage.

I'm not sure I buy it. I think it was the cat.

Did I Mention...

2012-01-19T08:00:00.002-05:00

.... we got a dog?

Roots Run Deep

2012-01-18T17:24:00.001-05:00

Most people don't like going to the dentist. I however don't mind it and don't have the fears or apprehensions that many people have about dental procedures. I find a visit to the dentist relaxing. Maybe I am chronically tired but I actually fall asleep during certain dental procedures. Cleanings rank with spa visits on the relaxation scale for me. Truly, I was in a meditative state when my braces were installed and removed. I think it all revolves around the comfy reclining chair and finally sitting still for more than a few seconds. The same thing happens to me in movie theatres just after the previews and on our couch after 8pm.

But yesterday, I was on the observation side of a dental procedure, the less relaxing side. My oldest son, Leonardo, had two teeth pulled in preparation for braces. Watching all the poking with needles and tugging with tools that looked better suited for an auto shop than a dental office didn't allow for my usual dental office nap. Plus I had to sit in a hard, straight-backed chair. Who can rest under those conditions?

Leonardo handled the situation like a champ. Of course, who doesn't feel awash with Zen and over confidence under the grasp of nitrous oxide? He was calm throughout, even when they had to give him two extra shots of novocaine. Even when the dentist asked for the forceps by name and out loud instead of in double secret pediatric dental jargon (i.e. Mr. Gentle Tugs), Leonardo kept his cool. I, on the other hand, was on the edge of my hard, straight-backed wooden seat, wishing it were me in the chair instead of my son. At least then I could sleep through it.

The two teeth to be pulled were baby molars and their absence will provide some necessary extra room in his very narrow mouth. While these teeth would have come out in their own time, we, by that I mean the orthodontist, wanted them out on another time schedule. When left to their own devices, the roots of baby teeth generally dissolve inside the gums, the teeth get loose and then come out. Since these teeth were being asked to leave on our time schedule rather than their own, the roots had not fully dissolved. By that I mean, these teeth were securely clamped into Leondardo's gums similar to the way my white-knuckled hands were gripping the edge of my very uncomfortable chair during the extraction, as it is called in the dental world.

A half inch doesn't sound like much, does it? It's not if we're talking hair length or hemlines. But put a half inch in the context of dentristy and it becomes a big amount. This is what Leonardo and his dentist were dealing with yesterday: a half inch of tooth and root.

I always wanted my sons' roots to run deep but this isn't what I had in mind. After much work by Mr. Gentle Tugs, out came Mr. Death Grip and his side kick Lil' Stubborn Roots. They were laid to rest in this cute little treasure box.

Thankfully, using logic as only watermelon scented Happy Air can provide, Leonardo thinks he actually blew the teeth out himself with his own breath. I will not ask him, but I wonder what he thinks the forceps were for?

And just so you know, in response to an absurd display of extortion, the Tooth Fairy pays five times the regular rate for pulled teeth with roots barbed like fish hooks.

Hatching a Plan for Twenty-Twelve

2012-01-08T14:56:00.004-05:00

A new year is a time for optimism. Looking forward. A fresh start. In the past, I have not been one to be resolute in setting or achieving resolutions. But this year, I feel a bit inspired...

...in dozens of ways.

There are always dozens of items on my list of wants and wishes, shoulds and ought tos, need tos and betters. So what better time to tackle those than now when there are a dozen fresh months ahead?

Twelve months is easier to commit to than a year.

It's a mental game for me. Planning to achieve things when I have a whole year to get them done allows me not only a whole year to get them done but a whole year in which to procrastinate and put them off. If I mentally approach them in terms of months rather than a whole loooong year, my goals seems more achievable. I've created my own mental shell game.

So here is what's waiting to hatch in 2012 -

Maintain a healthy, balanced fitness regimen.

I have been on again off again (really mostly off) with exercise for over two years now, my mind being a big obstacle with my body holding a close second. This year I will get back on a maintenance plan.

Visit or be visited by each member of my family.

I didn't clear this with any of them, but I think they will be on board. 2011 was a challenging year for our family and many plans were laid aside to deal with immediate demands. Thus, what visits we did have were in the name of crises. For 2012, I look forward to spending time with each every one of my peeps at some time and reseal our familial bonds...and have a really good time. I already have plans to see one niece and a sister-in-law next week. Then there is spring break in Tennessee where two grandparents and another sister-in-law reside. And there are other visits in the works. So get my room ready! Or if you prefer, your room is ready here, family!

Break the chicken nugget habit.

Not mine, my kids'. Once upon a time I was a vegetarian who did raw food cleanses and eshewed convenience foods. If an item wasn't hard to acquire, cook or chew, it wasn't in my kitchen. Then I had children. I didn't completely fall into bad nutrition habits at the expense of my kids' health, but there are a few things that snuck onto our menu that would have been forbidden in my vegetarian days. 2012 will be end of days for those foods that bear no resemblance to their natural source or have names that end in "-os", or have an animated character as a spokesman.

Create a personal salsa recipe with my husband.

We love salsa! And we love to complain about bad salsa almost as much as we love to complain about bad iced tea! So this year, we'll create our own concoction and no longer have to subject ourselves to lesser salsas. If you are good, you might get your own jar for Christmas 2012.

Use my powers for good.

I haven't been using them necessarily for evil lately but I would like to find an outlet for my photographic powers that benefits someone or something else. I don't know what it will be, but in 2012 I'll be looking through the lens with a view for helping others.

Clear out the clutter.

I'm gonna blame this one on the kids too. We have accumulated so much stuff over the years and most of it belongs to them. We have about a dozens room in our house and about that many closets and storage areas. All of these are full. I bet there is a bag or dozen in those spaces that could be donated. My goal is to be as clutter free as my one sister-in-law who still has empty closet space after twenty-five years of marriage and countless home moves. She is the inspiration of a new reality show in the works called "Anti-hoarders". Really.

Sh*# or get off the blog.

This is the start of my blog's fourth year. It has morphed over time and has always been an outlet for me. I haven't worked it like many bloggers do with blog hopping, weekly memes, and following countless other blogs. From that respect, I am a lame blogger. I put my stuff out here and in return read a small handful of other blogs. I like the personal nature of my blog and really don't want to commit any more time to my computer life. But I do want to add some regularity and structure to my blog. This will require some more thought. Or I'll just start keeping a journal instead.

My list is not filled with over-the-top achievements; just wholesome, hearty staple items.

Like a good fresh dozen.

Fresh Dozen

2012-01-01T09:05:00.000-05:00

Hello 2012!

Let's get crackin'!

Christmas Wrap-Up Randomized

2011-12-31T13:49:00.000-05:00

Our Christmas holiday at home has been wonderful. What we lost by not being with our relatives, we gained in extra time and freedom in our own home. This has been a true vacation for us all. There is nothing quite like having the time to do whatever you want at home with no schedule and no stressful demands on your time.

However, there were demands like staying up late and eating homemade treats at any hour of the day or night. It was demanded that we watch extra movies and play board games. We were required to have parties with friends. And some of us insisted on napping at least once a day. We all agree that we have made the most of our quiet Christmas at home.

But there is a downside to all this unstructured free time. Some of us have become a little lazy. Which is why I am doing my Christmas wrap-up on New Year's Eve and why the following is so randomized. Just some snippets that I want to preserve. Like this shot taken with my new wide angle lens.

And this one, because I like how the reindeer are silhouetted.

And this one taken Christmas morning before the kids awoke and the mayhem began.

And this one of my favorite Christmas ornament given to me by an old Atlanta friend who was a real peach herself.

And this one because they look so cute digging into their stockings.

And this one because who doesn't love algebraic humor???

I love that the boys asked for these shirts instead of ones with Angry Birds on them.

And the last snippet, where we wish you a Happy New Year!
May 2012 hold joy, health and prosperity of spirit for us all!

Ghosts of Christmas Past, Promises of Christmas Future

2011-12-24T09:31:00.001-05:00

Today is Christmas Eve. It's an "off year" for our family gathering meaning that my family, the one I was born into, gets together to celebrate Christmas only every other year. The opposite years are generally committed to my husband's family. We travel during Christmas, no matter which family's year it is. However, this year is off for both families. We are not travelling and we'll be waking up on Christmas in our own home. Santa will be coming down our Chimney this year. I honestly can't remember the last time we were home for the holidays. It was odd to wake up today, on Christmas Eve, in our own home and not start the day by stuffing suitcases into the car for a nine hour drive.

While both sides of my family will be missed this year, I am enjoying being home so far and know it will be a Christmas to remember. They all are in their own way. This one is particularly memorable due to my niece. She started her Christmas two days ago by receiving a gift of life in the form of a stranger's stem cells. This gift will unfold for her and all who love her over the next several weeks as her body accepts this gift and makes it her own. A truer gift we can not imagine and none of us need to unwrap anything else this year. Thank you selfless stranger and Merry Christmas to you and yours.

All of our Christmases are memorable, maybe not remembered by exact year but memorable by event. While our Christmases are steeped in tradition, something unique usually happens each year to keep it fresh.

Traditionally, leading up to Christmas, we count down the days by the daily ceremonial cutting off of a button from the homemade Advent calendar. The calendar is a strip of festive red felt dotted with fancy buttons for each day of December. Each evening in December, an anxious child lops off another button to signify the occasion of surviving one more day of anticipation. For a child, the thrill of being the button-cutter is the highlight of many a cold December day.

I don't know the true history of this tradition in my family. My grandmother Oma may have started it as she had an impressive fancy button collection and was skilled in the domestic art of button sewing. My own mother continued this tradition for my siblings and me. I started the tradition for my own children as you can see from this vintage photo.

Sadly I have killed the tradition with my ineptitude for sewing buttons and my complete refusal to even to try. Bah Humbutton, I say. But the tradition lives on in our memories and is an homage to the days when women did crap like sewing buttons. Embracing women's freedom everywhere, we have this guy instead. He only requires that we move a tethered button from numbered slot to numbered slot each evening. And no sewing.

Another holiday family favorite is the traditional holiday nudity.

Don we now our gay apparel has a whole different meaning in our house.

Decorating this way is fun but it adds another reason for my husband to dislike hanging the outdoor lights.

Every year the children write a note for Santa which they leave by the chimney on Christmas Eve.

This is followed promptly by the traditional reading of select chapters from the Harbrace Handbook and Elements of Style.

This really gets the children's attention and readies them for the long winter's nap that is Christmas Eve night.

But before bedding down on the Eve, each child opens one Christmas present. Traditionally, it is their Christmas pajamas. If Santa's going to see you sleeping, you have to be wearing new pjs, right? This is one of those traditions that works about twice and then after that everyone feigns their excitement. Grandma tried to liven it up one year with the addition of a wool thong she had crocheted.

As you can imagine, this holiday tradition did not stick.

When we all are together on Christmas, fun and spontaneity are the rules. Wacky holiday activities abound like karaoke without the lyric prompts...

...the Biennial Ugliest Foot Competition which is strangely won by the same person every time...

...and last year's extemporaneous tribute to lederhosen.

Yes, my family knows how to have holiday fun!

So on this Christmas Eve morning, even as I miss my large family holiday gathering, I appreciate the ghosts of Christmas Past. I will cherish this Christmas Present with my little family

and anticipate many Christmas Futures with my larger family once again.

All Shall Be Well

2011-12-21T05:41:00.001-05:00

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

Julian of Norwich

I was asked recently why my blogging has reduced to dribs and drabs over the past few months. I gave an evasive answer because I hadn't formed the real one even for myself yet. The evasive answer danced around busy-ness and focus on other things. Admittedly, there is some truth to that. But after thinking about it more, I came up with the rest of the answer.

While I have been focused on other things and I have been busy, I also have felt the need to be quiet. From the start, my blog has been a place for me to be funny, sarcastic, even poignant at times. It's a forum where I talk about my family, show off some photographs and paint the everyday things in life with a bright brush.

It hasn't felt appropriate to be funny or sarcastic these last few months. And being poignant is a vulnerable position to be in these days. Poignance quickly becomes tearful if I'm not careful. So to keep it all in check, I've gone quiet.

In place of my blogging banter, I've been listening, thinking, praying, hoping and believing...all quiet, productive activities.

Prayer is not overcoming God's reluctance. It is laying hold of his willingness. - Julian of Norwich

I will continue to do these quiet activities in honor of someone dear. One day from now, my niece will have a bone marrow transplant. All of us, she, her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, friends of friends, friends of family, her doctors, her nurses, her donor will all be listening, thinking, praying, hoping and believing.

And soon joyful noises will be made by all of us when all manner of things are well.

'Twas the Week Before Christmas...

2011-12-18T13:12:00.000-05:00

...when all through the house not a creature was believing, not even my spouse.

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, but nobody's buying St. Nicholas' wares.

The children are nestled all smug in their beds

While visions of irreverence danced in there heads.

What is going on here? There will be no visit to see Santa this year. I asked the boys, like I do every year, if they want to go see Santa and they said, "No." Neither boy wants to make our annual trip to see Santa. I guess now our annual trip is no longer annual but now nostagically past tense as in 'Twas.

2003

The obvious question is 'Twhy don't they want to see Santa? You would think the only proper answer from my middler-schooler, 'twould be the answer that I have been expecting from him the past few years. You know the answer that starts with, "I don't belie...." But I didn't get that answer. The answer I got 'twas unexpected.

"Santa's a creeper," they said.

2006

"Twhat did you say?" I said.

2006

In our house, "creeper" is a general term for a suspicious character, a weirdo. My niece coined the phase and even the facial expression we use to notify other family members of a creeper in the vicinity. So, when they said, "Santa's a creeper," they gave the creeper face to match.

2007 - Note no picture of little brother this year. Assumed beginnings of creeper theory.

The boys went on to explain why dear Santa is now a creeper. Their arguments are compelling. Top on the list was he knows when you are sleeping. Yes, I guess that is a bit odd.

2008

Next was the idea of young children sitting on a strange old man's lap. It's good to know the concepts in the Cub Scouts Parent's Guide on Child Abuse that we have religiously covered with the boys every year have really made an impact.

2008

And lastly, there were some ramblings about Santa coming into houses under the cloak of darkness, another inarguable concern.

2009

I however believe that all of this creeper talk is merely a parent-friendly way for the boys to communicate the real answer that starts with "I don't belie..." The boys know these are words are hard for parents to hear. These words hold so much more than an end to a fun, decade-long caper.

2009

I don't belie...means Mom and Dad, I'm growing up.

2010

It means the teenage years and driving and moving off to college and having a family of their own are right around the corner. It means that you have to drop the magic for a little while before you can start it again and share with the next batch of believers.

2010

But it doesn't mean that joy of Christmas is over. It just means we can all start to appreciate a deeper reason for the season.

Laurel Valley, Townsend, TN November 2011

Making Music Right

2011-12-17T17:39:00.000-05:00

I am a huge fan of a particular musician. This particular musician isn't widely known. His songs aren't played on the radio. He writes great songs and plays any instrument. He has several CDs which are available on CDBaby.com, iTunes and Rhapsody. This musician has been playing guitar since he was fourteen...too many years to number...and has been songwriting, playing and performing since 1991...twenty years and counting. He has a day job but continues to gig around our local area. And lucky for me, he performs nightly in my living room.

Bo Weevil (a.k.a. my husband) has a new CD just released this week.

Make It Right is full of Bo's signature-style tunes, all written and performed by him along with some fantastic accompanying musicians. Consistent with his previous releases, many of Bo's songs are tributes, both in name and in style, to musicians of the past who have influenced him. Avalon John is a direct nod to Mississippi John Hurt while My Cup of Tea and Going, Going, Gone pay homage to the jazz greats of the '30s. Bo works in a little contemporary country heartbreak as well with his lamenting Whiskey Won't and Feeling Blue.

The title track Make It Right holds special importance for both Bo and me. This song is the most heartfelt one he has written to date. It is a love letter to me and our relationship. As with all long standing loves, ours has ebbed and flowed, been tried and tested, grown while we've changed. With each challenge, we have returned to the truth and clarity of what we hold dear for our lives now and in the future. Bo says it all in Make It Right. Baby, I love you too.

Speaking of love letters, there a few more on the album. They are all written for one special person, but I'll let you pretend they are for you and yours if you like. To begin, I'm sure you can all identify with the relaxed swing of We've Just Begun. Makes you want to drink up all the good in life and love.

I must confess that I may have taken Bo for granted a time or two. Haven't you gotten caught up in the busy-ness of it all and forgotten to let your honey know how you feel about them? Bo reminds us to keep our feelings front and center in Baby, Can't You See 'cuz love is what makes it all worthwhile.

There is some darkness to be worked through and Bo does so in A Million Miles Away. We've all lost someone dear and this song tells the tale of a man's crushing loss of his wife. The song is a stepped-back way for Bo to express some of his feelings of losing his mother earlier this year.

The album has several upbeat numbers to balance the ballads. Bone to Pick and Untry-Kay Ooz-Blay display Bo's musical sense of humor.

My personal favorite has to be My Cup of Tea. It's a stripped down ensemble of guitar, brushed drums and clarinet playing a sultry jazz shuffle. The lyrics are poetic, unexpected and vintage. A combination of lyrical and musical perfection.

I may be biased, but this is my favorite Bo Weevil album of all time. And I really do think it's his best. Another thing that makes this album special to us is that we collaborated a bit. In addition to listening to all the early versions of the songs, I also did all the photography for the CD layout. It's the first time we have "worked together".

Songwriting and recording your own music are a bit like blogging...you put your life, your thoughts, your feelings out there for all to hear, read and of course, critique. But I don't think you can find a bad thing to say about this post or this album.

Make It Right and all other Bo Weevil releases are available on CDBaby, iTunes and Rhapsody. Check them out!

Going to the Dogs

2011-11-28T13:23:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, we further cemented our status as typical, suburban, middle-class Americans. We already had the two kids, the minivan, PTA memberships, and the fenced backyard in the burbs. So what else did we need to lock in our status? A dog.

We had been cat people up until two weeks ago. Not cat people in the socially awkward, cat-lady sense of the term, but we had only had cats as our pets for all these twenty years together. The boys have had gerbils and fish, but I don't count those as pets. They are more like science experiments. There is a lot of scientific research to be had with these types of "pets". How long will a fish live under such unclean aquarium conditions? What will a gerbil do if the only attention it receives is during its biweekly bedding change which is done by a disgruntled mother? You don't really want to know the answers to these scientific queries. But just know that these are not real pets.

Cats are pets and they are easy. Cats like to be fed and have their fur stroked upon command. Then they sleep for upwards of 16 hours a day. Our cats have always had dog-like personalities; they like to be around people. They greet you at the door. But then, unlike the dog, they leave you alone when they've had enough of you.

With dog-like cats, why did we get an actual dog? I can blame it on several friends who have gotten dogs within the past year. Jan, Kelly and Becky - you are all on notice as accomplices in this matter. Your dogs have won my children's hearts or at least created their new liking of the idea of a dog. Up until they were around your dogs, my sons only tolerated dogs. Now they like them (some of them anyway).

I can also blame it on Smokey IX, the University of Tennessee mascot. Every time Smokey is shown during the televised football games, I just melt. I love the idea of a blue tick hound like Smokey, one that is clean, well-behaved, fully trained and unfazed by 100,000+ screaming fans. I could own a dog like that.

And then there's the notion that a boy just needs a dog. I think there was an Andy Griffith episode on that theme. Maybe even a Brady Bunch episode too (remember Tiger?) The boy-needs-a-dog idea was planted in my head during my formative years in thirty-minute, sit-com increments. So actually now, my two real life boys need a dog no matter what my logic might say otherwise.

So, we adopted a pound puppy. She's a mix, though of what we're not entirely sure. She's smallish but not so small that she can't be considered a real dog. We believe there is some sort of Corgi in her lineage due to the squat-length legs. We know she has some hound (maybe just a smidge of blue tick way back in there somewhere) in her because she's got a hound face. She came house-broken (yay!) and she only gets up once in the night to be let outside. She's six-months-old and about twenty-five pounds. We love her already. And so does our cat.

And now both our boys are complete.

Thanksgiving Thoughts Redux

2011-11-25T08:32:00.000-05:00

Happy Black Friday! This is the greatest day EVER!

No really. I don't care about Black Friday. It is the most confounding day ever. I have never understood the allure of spending a day shopping amidst a crazed crowd all hopped up on caffiene and the I-wants and the That's-Mine! I know this is one way some folks spend their holiday family time with shared shopping goals or a divide-and-conquer strategy. But that doesn't qualify as family time for me. The whole idea of the day is a personal affront to what the day before was really meant to be. Thank you, Retail Industry, for always being ready to direct our focus for us. We seriously can't think for ourselves without you.

I have been doing some thinking for myself lately which is one reason my blog has been so sparse this month. I've been thinking too much to post anything. I'm ready to break my posting silence. In the spirit of November, Black Friday aside, this post is about all there is for which to be thankful. Even in the face of a heartbreaking reality, I am still thankful.

I looked back at what I was thankful for this time last year. I go back and read past posts from time to time to see how I've changed or in this case, not changed. Interestingly, my 2010 and 2011 thankful thoughts are so similar in fact that I can just repost my thankful post from last year. It can't be improved upon this year.

Thanksgiving Short List circa November 2010 and still applicable today

We are on the downside of November, sliding quickly into the Thanksgiving holiday and I have not said one thankful thing on my blog this month. Last November, I participated in a bloggers game of listing things I was thankful for. I spent a little time each day thinking of things for which I was thankful.

I didn't participate this year because frankly I have been too busy to commit to anything else. It was the daily posting that I couldn't commit to, not the thinking about my many blessings. I think about those everyday even in the midst of my busy-ness.

Since I only have a few days of November left, I'll have to make a short list of thankful things. In contemplating my short list, I went over my 2009 list. It included some fluff, I must admit. Mocha lattes and wooly socks for example. While they are nice, do they really belong on a list of thankful things? I guess when you live in 2010 middle class America and pretty much have access to most things, they do. Spoiled children rarely appreciate the important things they have.

Since I only have time and space for a short list, I need to get real for 2010. So, here's what I have been thinking about but not posting these past 20 November days:

My family. All of them. From the ones I wake up with in the morning to the ones I rarely see or talk to.

I got nothing else on my short list. Sure there are many things that I could mention, many things that are important to me and make my life better, more fun, easy. But my family, all of them, are the most most important aspect of my life, of anyone's life. Have you ever known someone without something they considered a family? They probably didn't have a whole lot of positive stuff going on in their life.

Family, no matter how you define yours, is a web of support and a safe haven from the worries of the world. I've got that. I am thankful for that. I hope you have that too.

So as to not be overly sentimental and schmaltzy about the family thing, let me point out that my family is also a source of belly-laughs. We all have a great sense of humor. I know everybody thinks themselves funny, but my family really is. Just ask any of us.

I guess having a funny family would be second on the short list. I'm looking forward to spending some time with my funny family this holiday season.

Halloween of Epic Fail Proportions

2011-11-04T07:32:00.000-04:00

While the department, grocery and big box stores are already stocked, ready and have you thinking ahead to Christmas, I am going to bring you back in time. We'll only go back a few days. But I'm not ready to zip past Thanksgiving and embrace the big winter holiday just yet. How could I? I haven't told you about our Halloween celebration yet.

After last year's Harry Potter masquerade, I felt we had a challenge ahead of us this year if we wanted to better our costume showing. How could we improve on this?

We even hired extras to go along with us as Mr. & Mrs. Weasley.

Let me preface this whole thing by telling you up front - we did not exceed last year's high level of clever costumery. We failed. Lack of cohesion was our downfall. I had some grand ideas for our family costumes, the best being to dress as the partial cast of "Gilligan's Island."

Then the fight ensued..."I'm Gilligan!" "No, I'm Gilligan!"

My suggestion that there be two Gilligan's was promptly shot down as a terrible idea. That's not possible, they said. Being so young, inexperienced and unfamiliar with Gilliganology, they didn't know that there were in fact two Gilligans at one point. They didn't recall the episode "Gilligan vs. Gilligan" in season 3. You know the one with the Soviet agent sent to discover the castaway's true mission? It happened.

The Gilligan costume argument was so heated, the kids revolted and decided to go out on there own. By "revolted" I mean, they decided not to dress up as a group with their parents. Lack of cohesion killed the groupthink.

Hubby and I were voted off the island so to speak. Which gave me another great idea: my husband could dress as an IT executive who was dressed as a Survivor contestant. So we raided his closet for a threadbare dress shirt and slacks, ripped and shredded them a bit, then rubbed them on the garage floor to emulate the dirtiness of tribal living. We made a buff. He wore a fake immunity idol and he carried a backyard tiki torch. Perfect. Sadly, there are no pictures to record this fabulous costume. Photographer, how did that happen?!

Now that the husband's costume was taken care of, I had to come up with something for myself. I wasn't about to go as a female Survivor contestant. I am not a twenty-something that could strategically wear a buff to cover all the important parts. And while I am a forty-something, most people don't enjoy looking at the forty-something female Survivors, no matter where they wear their buffs.

But I wanted to be clever and the pressure of last year was looming heavy. So I searched the internet for "great costume ideas" and chose one. I laughed out loud when I read it. I thought it was super-clever and easy to do. I have everything I needed in my own home already. Here it is:

Isn't that great?! You know what I am, don't you? I knew you would get it. Strangely, every person who actually saw me at the two Halloween parties to which I wore my costume did NOT get it. What? You actually don't get it either? You were just being polite?

Okay. Let me help you. Maybe it would help if you could read my sash better, although the folks at the parties had no trouble reading my sash. It says, " Blessings."

Now you get it, right?

No? Really?

Yeah, I didn't think so. I'll just tell you, like I did all those party folks. I'm a "blessing in disguise." Apparently, dressing as an idiom is not as clever of an idea as I thought. It sounded so much better when I read it on the internet really late that night, the night before the party when I was running out of time. Maybe it was the idiom itself that made it an epic fail. Maybe the "bird in the hand is worth two in the..." idiom would have gone over better. I don't know.

Anyway, back to kids and their revolt. By "on their own" I mean, they told me what costumes I had to make for them. Looking back, I am not sure which part of me making their costumes equates to being on their own but that's what a mother does. Maybe I should have dressed as an indentured servant? So I, the indentured servant, got busy and here were my tools. Orange t-shirts and a hot hot iron.

Velour iron-on letters and a bag of candy corn.

The candy corn has nothing to do with the costumes and everything to do with keeping me happy and vertical in the wee hours of the night while I ironed on FORTY-FOUR individual letters on the TWO t-shirts.

But I'm not complaining. I was happy to see my two Percy Jackson clones, happy in their costumes. Happy because they really were dressed like themselves...t-shirts, jeans, the hoodies that they donned for Trick-or-Treating. Perfect costumes for my boys who don't like to draw too much attention to themselves.

The Lightning Bolt was an extra touch.

You can tell which one was into the role a bit more than the other.

Even with the lost Survivor photos, the failed ~~idiot~~ idiom costume and boys dressed like...boys, we still got copious amounts of candy and tons of fun with our neighborhood friends.

House Witch Gets A Day Off

2011-10-31T12:52:00.000-04:00

Kudos to my husband and boys for creating these ghoulish guys yesterday while I was out. They did a great job on the designs and carving...and they cleaned up everything! That was a good thing they did so the House Witch didn't have show up and make a scary scene.

Happy Halloween!

An Introduction to OT, As I Know It Now

2011-10-22T11:37:00.001-04:00

The term "Occupational Therapy" used to bring to mind images of accident victims relearning the basic skills of caring for themselves and maneuvering in their post-accident world. How to hold a toothbrush. How to grasp a pen. That's what I always thought OT was.

That was my concept until I had a child who is extremely intelligent but oddly struggled with executing simple tasks; until I had a child who can envision a very complex point B, but getting from Point A and through all the simple interim steps along the journey to B reduced him to tears of frustration and failure; until I had a child whose sensitivies were far beyond my understanding, reducing me to tears of frustration and failure.

Until I met Kelly.

Kelly is first a dear friend. Our children have grown up together since the days when our oldest children shared preschool classes. As my friend, Kelly listened to my stories of concern about my child, his struggles and my confusion. As an OT, Kelly had answers for us. Kelly the OT introduced us to proprioceptive and vestibular information. Kelly the OT identified visual challenges that the basic eye exams administered in school and the pediatrician's office had missed. Kelly the OT gave us tools for navigating our Point A to Point B journey.

Recently someone pointed out to me that in some life challenges, there are no ways around the situation, only ways through. You must approach the challenge head on with a direct sight line on pending hazards and strife. OT gave us tools to go through our challenges, armed and dangerous.

So now when I think of OT, I think of parents and kids with answers and tools and power.

Kelly recently went out on her own with a private OT consulting business.

You can get more information about occupational therapy in general and Occupational Therapy Consulting's services in particular by going to their website at http://www.otc-frederick.com/ or clicking on this really neat logo below.

You can also check out OTC-Frederick's Facebook page by clicking on the other logo below. Be sure to "Like" it. I know our family does.

Good luck Kelly!

Confessions of a Pool Mom

2011-10-07T14:00:00.000-04:00

I wrote the following for our homeowner's association end of summer newsletter. The theme is somewhat all-American, even universal and could be appreciated by many a mother out there.

My name is Courtney and I am a self-proclaimed Pool Mom. To be specific, I am a Mid- to Late- Elementary Pool Mom. Not that long ago, I was a Baby Pool Mom and I know in my future lies the role of Beyond Elementary Pool Mom. In my tenure at the pool, I have learned the Lore of the Pool Mom.

To the casual observer, a Pool Mom is just a woman at a pool with a large bag full of snacks and spare goggles. But the position is much more complex than just providing snacks and locating mislaid swim accessories. There is a full undercurrent of drama in the role a Pool Mom.

The Baby Pool Moms are the hardest working ladies at the pool. Pool Moms of babies, toddlers and preschoolers work tirelessly, protecting their children from the dangers of the Baby Pool ranging from leaky swim diapers to drinking of pool water. These Moms are forever confined to the square boundaries of the Baby Pool fence. They look longing over the fence at the Big Pool, dreaming of the day they too will walk freely amongst the masses, unrestrained by swim diaper accidents and hygiene policies. I know their thoughts because I was one of them not so very long ago.

Baby Pool Moms typically graduate to the Big Pool when their child reaches the Early Elementary school age. These ladies work nearly as hard as the Baby Pool Moms, exhaustedly shadowing their child as he enters and exits the pool ad nauseam. Due to the precarious level of the child’s swim skills, these Moms are actually in the water much of time, not this Pool Mom’s favorite place to be.

The work of a Pool Mom diminishes as her child ages. Less time is spent in the water in the Mid-Elementary stage. This stage is more pyschological than physical as the Mom must respond to nearly constant shouts from the pool of, “Mom, look at me! Mom, watch this! Mom, I can touch the bottom! Mom, watch my flip! Mom! Mom! Mom! Maaaaaawwwm!!!!!” These calls cause confusion among Pool Moms as all the calls tend to sound alike, making it difficult to distinguish one’s child from another, forcing the Mid-Elementary Pool Mom into an addled state of constant agitation. I’ve heard a similar technique was effectively used at Guantanamo.

The bright light in the Pool Mom’s future is the coveted Late Elementary school years when her work will be limited to 15 minute segments spaced nicely apart on an hourly basis. This 15-minute period is ironically known as “Adult Swim”, a complete misnomer. Few adults enter the pool during Adult Swim. This time is spent by the Late Elementary Pool Mom doling out snacks and reapplying sunscreen to her sundry children.

The remaining 45-minute period is spent by the Late-Elementary Pool Mom talking with friends, reading, texting, doing crosswords and, don’t tell, the occasional unintended power nap. I have known some Pool Moms to swim laps. All of these activities are made possible by the Late Elementary child’s maturity, swim skills, abundance of friends and complete lack of interest in their mother – the proverbial cutting of the bikini strings. Life is easier, albeit bittersweet, for the Pool Mom at this stage.

Lastly, there is the Pool Mom of Middle Schoolers and Beyond. These Pool Moms are an elusive set, infrequently seen at the Pool. This is the Pool Mom’s retirement as she is no longer needed or wanted by her children at the pool. I know this stage is in my future and I’m already sad at the thought.

Of course, it must be said that it is the Moms of only children who float through these stages without overlap. Moms of multiple children are at any given time in two or more of these stages. The overlap can cause great consternation and mental and physical exhaustion. But with the help of Pool Moms in other stages, the overstretched Pool Mom survives to live another summer.

Through all the stages, I love our neighborhood pool not just for what it is but for what it is not. Our pool is a great neighborhood treasure. No, it is not the newest pool in the area. Sure, it doesn’t have all the bells and whistles of a water park style pool. No dumping buckets. No beach-style entry. No fountains. It’s just a big hole filled with water. I love that it still has a diving board, throwing over-reaching liability threats to the wind. In this day of overstimulation and information overload, the lack of other add-ons requires the kids to unplug, be imaginative, play games with other humans, and just swim. They play Marco Polo and Sharks and Minnows. During Adult Swim, they chase each other back the tree line to play Ground and Run-Down. Our neighborhood Pool provides good old-fashioned summer fun and memories that kids and their Pool Moms will cherish forever.

Traditionally Speaking

2011-10-05T20:35:00.002-04:00

We just got back from our now traditional fall trip to Assateague Island State Park, Maryland. Can you consider something you've done twice and have every intention of doing again and again a tradition? If yes, then it's a tradition.

Traditionally, we go with another couple whose children are nearly exactly the same ages as our children. By "nearly exactly" I mean within days. My children are five days older than their children. I have two children; so how can my two children of different ages be five days older than two other children of different ages? Well, my boys are 3 years and four days apart in age. And the other couple's children are 3 years and four days apart in age. My oldest and their oldest were born five days apart. My youngest and their youngest were born five days apart. This may be a bit confusing and I probably didn't explain it very well. But I find it interesting that she and I had our babies within five days of each other...twice.

Meanwhile, back on Assateague...we were with our friends and were also joined by two other families. So it was fun for the kids and the parents to have lots of friends around at the beach. Maybe the tradition will catch on with these other families too.

In my two vast experiences at Assateague, I have learned that you pack for all eventualities.

You pack for sun.

You pack for sand.

You pack for surf.

You pack for hard manual labor.

You pack for cool nights by a roaring campfire.

You pack for rain (which translates into packing the Complete Gilligan's Island series on DVD).

You pack for cold blustery days.

You pack for hanging with your homies.

And on the last day, you pack up again knowing that, in keeping with tradition, you'll be back again next year.

Happy Birthday Anna!

2011-09-28T00:09:00.001-04:00

Today is my niece Anna's birthday. I honor of her seventeen years, I offer this list of...

The 17 Things That You Might Not Know About Anna

1. Anna has a sixth sense but I only know of one time she used it. She knew I was pregnant with my oldest son before anyone else. She knew before I officially knew. The morning I was in my home taking a pregnancy test, she was on the other side of metro Atlanta in her own home telling her mom that I was going to have a baby. She was five years old and that morning knew I was having a boy. We went to lunch with them later that same day and they told us that Anna said "the craziest thing this morning." I love that story.

2. When she was about one year old, Anna initiated my husband and I into the true secrets of parenthood. Childless and naive, we watched her parents give her liquid antibiotics by means of a combination bear hug/half Nelson. The scene was one part wild cat fight, one part Linda Blair, one part WWF. Don't misunderstand me; her parents were supremely gentle with her. Their movements were like a ballet. Anna was the wild cat. My husband and I have never forgotten that scene and we successfully used the same holds on our own boys years later.

3. The worst picture that has ever been taken of me was taken the very first time I held Anna. I had come to visit the new baby and my brother, her dad, thought to capture the touching moment when aunt meets niece. The picture is known in the family as "The Jimmy Durante." In my defense, the lighting was harsh. I didn't know my angles. I wasn't wearing any makeup. I could go on with reasons why The Jimmy Durante has been destroyed. But given what Anna is going through in her life right now, I would have posted it here and now in tribute to her if I hadn't shredded the only copy of it I had. If anyone has that picture, I'll post it. Just send it to me. There were other, better pictures taken of us that day, but I can't get my hands on those either. Darn old film technology!

4. Anna can pose for a picture. She knows her angles. She learned it from her mom.

5. Anna stayed with us for about a week in June 2003. It was a few weeks after my second son was born. Her parents left her with us while they explored their first international relocation. I can admit now that I don't have many clear memories of Anna's stay. Post-partum hormones were raging and sleep was scarce. But I do remember her playing with her own Bitty Baby.

6. She took my boys to their first pub. They'd go anywhere with her.

7. No matter how old she gets, she always waits at the top (or bottom) of the stairs with the younger kids on Christmas morning ~~while the adults to get their coffee~~ until we know Santa has visited and everything is ready.

8. Even with all the worldly experiences she has had in her young life, she still enjoys simple fun like tubing and horseback riding with her family in East Tennessee.

9. Anna has a thing for East Tennessee black bears.

10. She likes a "lil snack a' brownie" every now and then.

11. Anna has a quiet way of making others feel special. She lets you wear the crown.

12. She's really the one responsible for starting Sticky Chicken. No matter what anybody else tells you.

13. Anna named me Aunt Cocky. It has nothing to do with my demeanor but rather the difficulty of my name for her 2-year-old mouth to master. I take the name proudly.

14. She has the best, full-body laugh...from the time she was a tiny baby until now...she laughs with her whole soul.

15. She's looking for a match. Maybe you could help her or someone like her. Click below to find out how.

16. She's always been a strong person but until recently no one knew just how strong she really is.

17. She's competitive. She likes to win. I believe she will.

Happy Birthday Anna!!! Aunt Cocky Loves You!

We Are Not Alone

2011-09-23T10:45:00.000-04:00

When I talked about my holey t-shirt dilemma, I was not expecting the responses I got. I received several blog comments, FB comments, phone calls, and texts from people with the same t-shirt mystery of their own. No one had identified the Dang Nub as the culprit. After reading my post, each of these folks checked their own vehicle seat belts and all but one have the Nub. Some drive Toyotas, some drive Hondas, both vans and sedans, one drives a Jeep. The one without the Nub drives a Volvo. So maybe the Dang Nub is not solely responsible for causing the holes but the friction of the seat belt alone can weaken t-shirt fabric. Before the lawsuit is filed, a full study would have to be performed to singularly implicate the Nub or determine if it has accomplices.

I did find the explanations that the other people had for their t-shirts problems interesting. Several had no explanation, just a sense of frustration. One male victim logically assumed the holes were a result of his belt buckle that he wears daily. One female attributed the holes in her shirts to all the time she spends standing in front of her kitchen sink. Apparently, she leans against the countertop edge at the sink frequently.

I even received a picture of someone else's holey t-shirt as proof of solidarity in this situation.

This is the Kitchen Sink Lady. She must have some really dirty dishes or a very vigorous method of scrubbing pots and pans if she's actually ripping and snagging her clothing like this.

Another thing I realized was that the holes of all the victims are in generally the same spot on our shirts - just a few inches above the bottom seam, right around waist level. All these victims are different heights so their waists are at different heights too. The Dang Nub, and its alleged accomplices Seat Belt and Belt Buckle, are the only reasonable explanations for the waist-high damage. Pretty clear cut if you ask me.

My husband has had a few things to say during this mysterious case. Before I identified the Dang Nub, he offered the notion that I might have an egg tooth in my stomach that I was unaware of and it was trying to release something al a Alien style. Nice Honey. Thanks.

He then suggested that we all just pull our t-shirts out from under the confines of the Nub after we buckle up. But that would require breaking a near 30-year habit of how we settle in to drive and establishing a new habit. You can imagine how hard that would be. But I've been doing it. One drive at a time.

This is not the end of the t-shirt caper. I am sure others with feel strongly enough about this injustice to come forward especially now that they too know that they are not alone.

What To Wear to a Tractor Pull

2011-09-21T23:09:00.000-04:00

It's Fair time again in Frederick. I didn't grow up around agriculture or animal husbandry or bake-offs, so the Fair experience is still novel to me. Here the Fair is hugely popular. There is even a sanctioned day off from school locally known as "Fair Day" where every kid in the county is out of school. I have an issue with that. I support the ag and 4-H kids involved in the fair having the day or even the entire week excused from school. But not every kid needs Fair Day off. I guess the rationale is that if the kids have the day off from school, they will go to the Fair and learn about the animals and farming. Not so much. Have you seen the midway? That's where they want to go. So it's really about commerce. And that's fine; my kids go to the midway. But not when they should be in school. We've always avoided going to the Fair on Fair Day. Most of the people I know avoid the Fair on Fair Day. I'm not alone in this but still only part of a minority. They tried to take Fair Day off the school calendar at one point and many folks got really upset. So this Friday is Fair Day...and when in Rome...

But I didn't come here to talk about my opinion of Fair Day. I came here to talk about how every year we go to the Great Frederick Fair and learn something new. As I said, I didn't grow up with a vast fair experience so there are many fair related things to be learned. Last year we learned about pigs, sheep and goats and how it's nice to have someone you trust riding a rollercoaster with you for the first time. We also took Sticky Chicken with us to the fair last year and learned all about poultry.

This year we decided to go to one of the entertainment events. Unfortunately, Darius Rucker was sold out and our schedule wouldn't allow for any of the other musical options. Our choices then were the Tractor Pull or the Demolition Derby. Our hectic schedule chose the Tractor Pull so off to the Pull we went.

The first thing anyone says to you when you say you are going to a tractor pull is that you better have ear plugs. And they are right. They are so right in fact that the Fair officials have smartly arranged for an army of fair employees to dole out ear plugs as you enter the grandstand. You must have them. It is so loud. Oddly, there were many people in the grandstands without them. I assume those folks had already lost their hearing at a previous tractor pull. Or they were teenagers trying to prove their invincibility to members of the opposite sex. Either way, I found them curious and crazy to be sitting there without ear plugs. We, being new to the tractor pull setting and being ones who enjoy having our hearing intact, used the complimentary ear plugs and our fingers for added protection.

The second thing you must know about a tractor pull is that the only machines you will see that resemble tractors are the actual tractors that freshen up the track after each "run". These are the Zambonis of the tractor pull. They are regular looking tractors driven by regular looking farmer type guys who smooth out the track between pulls. Also there was one tractor that would return the sled back to the starting line after each pull. Aside from that, I didn't see any other tractors.

What I did see were souped up dragsters that had REAALLY BIG rear tires and teeny tiny front tires. Here's a "tractor" (on the left) attached to the sled (in the middle) with the regular tractor (on the right).

The gist of a tractor pull competition is to see which "tractor" can pull the weighted sled the furthest. There are different weight classes and horsepowers and yadayadayada. It all boils down to big boys with big toys. Or does it? I was surprised that several of the drivers were WOMEN. It seems women's lib and equal rights are alive and well on the tractor pull circuit. Good to know.

I was also surprised to hear the amount of money that people pump into these vehicles. The engine alone in some of them can cost $50,000.

And some of them have two engines.

And that doesn't even include the cost of all the other parts that are needed to actually make them the exaggerated vehicles they are. Someone told us these can cost up to $250,000. All that makes me think is that some people have more money than sense. Or at least they have much more money than I have.

I must admit that I had been to a tractor pull before. It was decades ago in high school. I had forgotten about it until this recent tractor pull experience. The main thing I remember about that tractor pull was what I was wearing. I was clearly out of my element then and proved it by wearing white capri pants. I saw no white capri pants this time, mine or anyone else's. I was savvy enough from my previous experience to wear jeans...and ear plugs.

Mystery Solved

2011-09-13T09:32:00.001-04:00

There is a mystery that I have been trying to solve for quite some time now. I have finally cracked the case. And in cracking this case, I think I have a pretty good grounds for a lawsuit.

Here's the backstory. I have an extensive t-shirt wardrobe. My line of work requires it. Some of my t-shirts are cheap and some are not so cheap. Some are very casual and some are actually nice and dress up a pair of jeans or khakis. I probably have at least a couple hundred dollars tied up in t-shirts.

Over time I have noticed a pattern of damage in many of my t-shirts. Tiny holes have been appearing in the shirts at about waist level on the front. I have a number of shirts with these mysterious little holes.

At first I attributed the holes to the quality of the t-shirt.

Then a few of my nicer shirts from Loft developed holes.

Then I thought it might be a problem with my washer or dryer.

But then I realized no one else in the house was having this type of problem with their t-shirts.

And then one day I looked down and saw this.

This is now what we call "The Dang Nub," because that's what I exclaimed when I realized what was happening...

The Dang Nub is that little button that keeps the metal clip of your seatbelt from slipping all the way down to the floor when you unbuckle.

But The Dang Nub is also the culprit in this clothing damage dilemma. When you are buckled up, The Dang Nub sits right in the spot where these tiny holes are forming.

The Dang Nub is ruining my t-shirt wardrobe. I feel certain that I am not the only one experiencing these damages. I have seen all the Toyota Siennas out of the road and I know how many people where shirts on a routine basis. So this looks like a prime situation for a class action lawsuit against a large minivan manufacturer. Anyone with me on this? What about you Honda Odyssey drivers? Does the Odyssey have a Dang Nub? If I had known about this where we were weighing our options between Honda and Toyota, the Dang Nub would have been a deal breaker.

Looking Back 10 Years - September 11th

2011-09-11T11:26:00.000-04:00

I have never written my personal reflections about September 11, 2001. Today is the 10th anniversary of that day. Since this blog is all about passing down my lore to my boys, I am writing my thoughts down now for them.

Ten years ago today, we lived in Decatur, Georgia. We were in our eleventh year of living in the Atlanta area. My husband's office was only a mile away from our house. Our first son was 16 months old. I had a great network of friends with babies around the same age. My husband's work, in comparative hindsight, was very low stress. Life was enchanted for us, experiencing things for the first time through our young son's eyes.

That Tuesday morning was typical. My husband left for work and my son and I got down to the business of our day. I can't really recall what that business was but it likely involved planning at which park to play or which friends to invite over for a playdate. Shortly before 9:00 the phone rang. It was a good friend Megan on the line. I don't remember the words she said. We talked so briefly I suspect she only told me to turn on the television, that something bad was happening.

I turned on the TV and heard Matt Lauer's voice. I saw an image of the first Twin Tower with its now famous plume of black smoke billowing from the upper floors. I called my husband. I told him something was happening in New York, a jet had crashed into the World Trade Center. We talked only long enough for him to say that he would go check it out. There was a TV in the break room at the office.

Back to the TV, I watched, wondering how a plane could have crashed into the middle of New York City. And then the second plane hit the other tower. I know I saw it live because Matt lost his anchorman's composure ever so briefly. "It's another one! A second plane has hit the South Tower!" I talked to my husband again. I don't know if he called or I called. This was no accident in New York.

I remembering the feeling of horror and shock I felt that morning. I also remember being afraid. I called my parents. When Dad answered the phone, all I could manage was, "Are you watching tv?!" I remember those words vividly because I had to repeat them several times. Dad didn't recognize my voice because I was crying so hard. I finally told him who I was, why I was crying and to please turn on the television. He didn't know about the attacks until that point.

Once the next plane hit the Pentagon, my husband decided to come home from the office. The rest of that morning is a blur of phone calls, watching news footage, and hugging my husband all the while trying keep things normal for my son. That is what the last ten years have felt like too. I have been trying to keep things normal for all of us since that day.

I didn't lose anyone personally that day, but I feel I lost my innocence. Ten years ago, I lived in a bubble where bad things didn't happen in my life. Apparently, I was really lucky up to that point, or at least I was enough of a Pollyanna to think so. September 11th changed all that. It didn't "happen to me" but it happened and it took something away. From me. From all of us.

That September 11th became my World War II, my day that JFK was shot, my day MLK was shot, my Vietnam, my LA riots. It is the day that took away my sense of enchantment. It took away the peaceful easy feeling I had as I walked through life before that day.

I do not walk through life today in fear of terrorists. I do have quite an impressive emergency kit that I never had before. I do hate when anyone I know travels on or around this date. I do recognize that my bubble has been burst.

If September 11th had not happened, something else would have been the pin to burst that bubble. In the intervening years since 9/11, many things, enchanted, bad and otherwise, have happened to me and those I love. That is life and Pollyanna is gone. And in her place is a woman who knows that normal does not mean that harm won't be hurled your way. How you respond to that hurtling harm dictates how you emerge from the rubble.

My Family Wish

2011-09-10T09:27:00.001-04:00

I've been thinking a lot about family lately. My family is spread all over the Eastern United States. Little groups and single members are randomly strewn across the map. There are hundreds of miles between most of us. Over the years, some of us have lived close enough to each other to allow for day visits or even close enough to meet for dinner. But that has been many years and many moves ago. Now we look to even-yeared holidays when the whole lot of us can be together. In between, there are random visits, travel plans converging in Tennessee, business trips that bring some within a rental car's driving distance of another.

I know of families whose members all live in the same community. They share the day to day. My family does not know what that is like. Being all together has its appeal to a family spread out like mine. But I am sure there would be drawbacks of such togetherness. There would be a few wrinkles to iron out. But I think we could make things lay nicely.

One thing about my family is that behind all our history, underneath all the idiosyncracies lies the desire for the best for each other. There is a common wish, may be at times masked by our individual quirks and opinions, but shared nonetheless.

The miles still divide us today, but with the help of pictures, music and internet wonder, I feel a little closer to my family this morning. This is my wish for you...

This photo slideshow personalized with Smilebox

The Word is Hodgepodge

2011-09-07T12:15:00.000-04:00

I am participating today in Joyce's Wednesday Hodgepodge. Joyce posts thought provoking questions on her blog and we all answer on our own blog.

I am participating today because of the first question in particular...

1. What is one piece of advice you would give a 'just turning' 21- year old adult?

If this were a hypothetical question and I was giving advice to any 21-year-old, I might not put too much thought into my answer and say something like, "This is the time of your life; enjoy every moment to the fullest," or "You'll never feel this free at any other point in your life, so relish it before real life sets in." But this isn't really a hypothetical question and I am not answering just any 21-year-old. There might actually be an almost 21-year-old in my family whose industrious mother might just be collecting nuggets of wisdom through a blog, perhaps, to pass along to this particularly important 21-year-old. If that's the case, then my advice is more of a thought to share with this particularly special girl approaching this milestone in her life. As full and free and as alive as she may feel right now, there are many years ahead of great fulfilment and freedom and life that she can't yet imagine. Happy Birthday Hypothetical 21-year-old! Now that that's been said, you can live it up...right after you check in with your mother.

2. Besides cooler weather (or warmer weather, depending on your hemisphere) what is one thing you are looking forward to this fall?

Shorter days which actually translates into longer snuggle and reading time on the couch with my boys in the evenings.

3. What sound lulls you to sleep?

Complete silence. Even a constant restful sound like the whirring of a fan or the peaceful babbling of a mountain stream can keep me awake.

4. September is National Preparedness Month...does your family have an emergency 'kit' and/or disaster plan in place?

Yes and yes. And in honor of National Preparedness Month, I think I need to review our kit contents and our plan. Thanks for the reminder.

5. How has your blog changed since you started blogging? Or has it?

I feel like my blog must have changed since I started it because I really had no plan or theme for it at the start. Now I have broad themes that all swirl around my family. I don't know if anyone else can recognize that, but I do. I think I have changed since I started blogging. I am definitely more appreciative of my family (immediate and otherwise) since blogging began. Blogging may not be the reason for my new appreciation; circumstances may have dictated that and blogging is just my latest way of expresssing it.

6. What's something you've recently learned to do on the computer?

I have recently been pulled back into my former career as an accountant. I am bartering services with a friend: I'll set up the bookkeeping for her new OT business if she'll be my photographer's assistant at an upcoming shoot. So recently, I have learned the ins and out of QuickBooks Pro 2011, version 8.0. It's actually not so bad, doing a little bookkeeping. It feeds my organizational beast.

7. Is a picture worth a thousand words? Elaborate.

As a photographer, I would like to go out on a limb and say that a GREAT picture is worth ONE word. A great image captures a thought, a feeling, idea and shouts that one word out to any and all who see it. I don't know if I've ever captured an image that great myself but I strive to. In the meantime, a really good image is worth as many words as can be conjured in the minds of those who take time to ponder the image.

8. Insert your own random here.

How about a random image...

Words like precious come to mind...

Home Sweet Home To Me

2011-09-03T20:19:00.001-04:00

It's football time in Tennessee! Actually, the game is currently under a weather delay. But as soon as the storm passes, it will be football time in Tennessee. Technically it's football time everywhere in America. But let's talk about what's important - UT football. This importance comes not from high pre-season rankings or from a previous successful bowl season. I don't think anyone is anticipating a great season for UT. We've got a young team and are in a rebuilding period, so my husband says. Regardless, I am NOT a fair weather fan. I love to watch Tennessee football no matter what.

I love all the orange. As garish as it would be on any other day, all that orange is fun and festive on game day.

My hubby and I have been spontaneously singing Rocky Top all week long. We have burst into song at the most unexpected times. We don't actually sing it though; we only know the words to the chorus. So it's more of a vocal rendering of a trumpet sound....dadada da da da da dada da da da daa da dada da daaa....followed by "Rocky Top you'll always be home sweet home to me!"

My mouth was getting tired of faking the trumpet and it occurred to me that it was high time I learned all the words to Rocky Top. I did know a few choice words from the song: moonshine, corn from a jar, sodie pop. I won't reprint all the song lyrics here. If you're interested, go here. It's a fun song about missing the simple life in the hills of Tennessee. I can relate.

What I found most interesting about Rocky Top was that it was written by a husband and wife songwriting team in 1967. I love their names: Boudleaux and Felice Bryant. In case you have to ask, Boudleax is the man. Even more interesting to me is that Boudleaux and his lovely wife Felice are responsible for such other great songs as "Love Hurts" and "All I Have to Do is Dream". Any Everly Brothers fans out there? No? You prefer Nazareth's version? Either way, you can thank Boudleaux and Felice for easing your teenage broken heart with their poignant words.

Oh...but I was talking about football, right? I'd like to thank Boudleaux and Felice for making UT football a sing-along event since 1972. The University of Tennessee Pride of the Southland Band has a perpetual license to play Rocky Top as often as its success on the field allows. If you've ever been to a UT game, you know the band takes full advantage of this legal arrangement.

Each time the band plays the song, the crowd joins in only on the chorus of course. Because like me, most UT fans only know the chorus. It is quite a sing-along.

I can't take credit for this video but this is a good sample of the Rocky Top experience. I especially like the guy singing the loudest. There are lots of these guys in the crowd on game day.

Good ole Rocky Top! Rocky Top Tennessee!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2011-08-29T09:42:00.001-04:00

Today is the first day of a new school year for my boys. It is a monumental first day of school for one of them. Today is the first day of middle school for Leonardo. I guess that makes it a monumental day for hubby and me too. He is a middle schooler now. We are the parents of a middle schooler now. These are the years that many parents approach with dread.

There may be lots to dread about the middle school years: the anxieties of the developing social pressures, the exposure to more mature things than either the child or the parent is ready for, the body changes, the attitudes, the awkwardness, and on and on. These are the things that make parents cringe. The kids probably don't like these things much either, although I don't think the kids are putting such labels on their angst. A mumbled, "I dunno," is about all most can muster if asked what's up.

But I am choosing today to not focus on the middle school ick that is potentially about to invade our house. I am remembering an anxious little boy starting kindergarten...

...and I recognize the same trace of nervousness in his eyes six years later.

I also remember another little boy who started kindergarten only a few years ago with enough pure excitement to carry him and his big brother through a first day of school...

Three years later, he is a bit more poised and doesn't wear his excitment quite so boldly. But it is still there.

I remember a mom who cried after dropping these boys off each first day of school for many years. Thankfully, no pictures of her in those moments exist. Oddly, there were no tears shed this morning by anyone, but not for lack of emotion or from happiness about a quiet house today. My eyes remained dry from a peacefulness I have in knowing my two young sons' abilities to meet challenges and changes with grace.

We're all growing up.

Sticks and Stones and Speeding Tickets

2011-08-22T09:46:00.001-04:00

My little town has an answer we have been looking for to solve our nation's budget crisis. They have the answer but they are not sharing it. They aren't even hinting at the fact that what they have could be a viable solution to the projected 2012 Federal budget deficit of $1.1 trillion. I am not a student of politics or an economist so forgive any mistakes in these areas. But I think I figured it out and am happy to share my thoughts.

Our little town has installed speed trap cameras in various points across the land. They gave local drivers fair warning that these cameras would be installed, so I guess trap is a strong word. I take that word back. Anyway, the camera will snap a picture of your vehicle's tail end if you pass by its lens traveling faster than the posted speed limit. Citations are then issued to drivers going at least 12 mph over the posted limit. Each citation costs the driver $40. The city retains $31.25 while the remaining $8.75 goes to the outfit who operates the cameras under contract for the city.

The projected annual revenue is $450,000. The city is well on the way to meeting its projection as evidenced by the fact that in the first four weeks of camera operations the city netted $216,000 in ticket revenue. A great start, wouldn't you say? They do estimate that the revenue stream will slow down over time just like the cars as drivers change their driving behaviors. I got all this information from this little article.

My household has contributed to the city speeding revenue. We arrived home from an extended vacation to find three citations in our mailbox. That's $120 out of our family budget. There are two drivers in our household. I won't say who got the tickets, but let's just say I didn't get all three of them. I just got most of them. And unfortunately, we suspect there may be more citations for us in transit since two of the cameras are conveniently placed on two of the major roads exiting our neighborhood.

Just as an aside, so you don't think my husband and I to be unusual in our driving habits. I know specifically four other households in my small circle of friends who also have received mulitple citiations. And there are probably others of my friends who have received citations that I don't know about. So we are normal.

Speeding is not a good thing but most of us do it from time to time. These speed cameras have had their intended impact on us at least. We are trying to drive slower...especially on the segments of roads where the cameras reside. I am even using cruise control on these in-town roads to maintain proper speed . I had never set my cruise control as low as 25mph until recently. And I am also traveling these camera-equipped roads less if I can avoid them. So the intended outcome of changing drivers' behaviors has worked, at least in my case.

So what does all this have to do with the finanical pickle that our country keeps finding itself in? The nation could do the same thing that my town has done and in a relatively short period of time reduce the budget gap. Of course, we already have speed limits on our roads but this new national program would be an additional plan and the resulting funds would go directly to our national coffers. The numbers are too interesting to ignore.

Let's assume President Obama started a similar speed citation system nationwide. Assume a similar 4-week period, use our local revenue facts above, extrapolate them to national levels and assume that each U.S. household receives two citations, the national figures look something like this:

Number of U.S. households - 112,611,029
Number of citations per household - 2
Net $ revenue per citation - $31.25
Net Total Citation Revenue in 4 weeks- $7,038,189,312

Annualized that is over $91 billion. At that annual rate, our $1.1 trillion deficit could be recouped over about 12 years. That's a similar time frame to what has been tossed around in Congress for certain deficit reductions. We'd also have to assume also that in those intervening 12 years our government would be operating at a zero budget deficit. Ahem.

I know I am simplying things quite a bit here. I haven't considered things like changes in driving habits and their impact on revenue streams. I haven't considered the need to relocate cameras on occasion to capitalize on the element of surprise. These numbers are getting really large and I am certainly out of my league in even discussing these matters. But couldn't we use a little simplification in solving these problems instead of complicating an already very complicated matter with more complications? (Which, now that I type that sentence, reads like a nice definition of what our government tends to do with most everything it touches.)

I would be happy to pay my share of a national speeding citation program if I knew it would contribute to solving our country's financial woes. I've already exhibited my exuberance for our local level plan by writing three $40 checks recently.

A national plan like this would have its drawbacks. Some would not like this idea of a national speeding citation program, finding it in violation of the basic human need for speed or some other such human right. And most of this dissension would fall squarely on the President's shoulders. As the police officer administering our local program stated he is "the most hated man" in our area, likely the President would feel a similar negative response if he implemented a national program. But with his recent approval ratings, I would think now would be the perfect time to set up such a program.

Friday Flashback - Don't Let This Summer End

2011-08-19T07:48:00.000-04:00

Today is the first day of the last weekend before the last weekend before school starts. So I'm feeling a little bit blue. You probably think that I am jumping the gun a bit on my melancholy given that we have more than a week of summer before the school doors swing wide. But I'm not. This is that day that everyone should lament. This is the last real Friday when we have an expanse of free time ahead of us, even if it is only ten days. No worries about going to bed early this Sunday night. No planning for that early alarm on this Monday morning. Today still feels like a summer day when you can forget what day it actually is and you can fool yourself into thinking that summer can actually last forever.

We should lament this day because it is the beginning of the end. Summer can't last forever and sadly this summer ends this weekend. This weekend, we'll play like we have all summer. This weekend, we'll stay up late and sleep past eight. But when the end of this weekend arrives, all things will change. We won't be able to ignore what will then be only a week away.

In that week, while I'll be focused on dialing sleep schedules earlier on the clock, purchasing last minute school supplies, and figuring out what size jeans we all need this year, it won't be the end of summer that will be the cause of my melancholy. I can blame it on the end of summer, but that's just a piece of it. The truth is that I'll be sad because it's the end of this summer. The summer before my oldest goes to middle school. The summer when my youngest lost most of his true little boy traits. The summer when the boys' growing independence slapped me in the face. The summer my boys had to face some really hard life experiences for the first time and handled them with amazing grace. The summer that college and everything after seemed to loom too closely in the not so distant future. The summer that was a blur.

So to ease my pain, I am looking back today. Flashing back to July 2010 and my thoughts on the end of summers. I give you again, "Summer Just Isn't Long Enough":

Life is interfering with my blogging. I've been so busy lately that I haven't been able to blog often enough for my taste. It's the summer schedule that's keeping me from it. I know once school starts back, I'll have more than enough time to blog. Only problem is that then I likely won't have as much interesting blog fodder with which to work. The boys provide me with much of my material. And my fun.

Like for instance, who's going to do "The Little People" for me come September?

I suspect none of my friends will be up for that.

And I don't know who will make Produce People for me in the fall.

I guess I could make them by myself. That will be fun...maybe.

But on the bright side I'm sure by the time school rolls around, I'll be really sick of watermelon.

But I doubt I'll be sick of this face.

Or this one.

By September, I won't miss slathering on the sunscreen everyday.

But I'll really miss this.

I think the boys are preparing me for my alone time this fall.

I keep seeing more of their backs.

And the distances they keep are getting farther.

At least for one of them, anyway.

I wish there was a Groundhog's Day in late August. Could we please have six more weeks of summer? That sounds much better than that rigged deal they try to sneak by us in February. I think I'll get to work lobbying for that holiday right away. Anyone with me?

I've got the poster boys ready.

Fun With Numbers

2011-08-15T22:49:00.000-04:00

I am not a numbers person. That might surprise you if you know that in another life I may have majored in accounting and spent over ten years working in the field of taxation. That life seems so long ago; I am starting to doubt it actually happened. If I did do all that, I must have faked my way through the numbers aspect of it all and skated by on my good looks and smashing personality.

Looks and personality aside, I am not a numbers person in the sense of being good at or enjoying math or its relatives. But I do like coincidences and puzzles and interesting situations that arise involving numbers. I am not sure where I am going with this. And at the end you may likely agree that I am not a numbers person and that I should never have done this in the first place. But let's just see if I can explain what I am talking about.

This year is 2011.
This year I am 44 years old.
I have a son who is 11.
My father is 77 years old.
The difference in my age and my dad's is 33.
The difference in my dad's age and my son's is 66.
This occurrence of repeated double digits intrigues me.

There is more.

This year, I am exactly 4 times older than my 11 year old.
Based on my new found knowledge of algebra (thank you 11 year old son), I can say that ratio will never happen again with regard to our ages.

And there is still more.
My sons are 3 years apart in age.
(That may be like one of those unrelated facts included in word problems merely to confuse you; I'm really not sure.)
In 4 years, I will be exactly 4 times older than my now 8 year old son.
That ratio will never happen again with regard to our ages.

So, what does all this mean and does anybody really care? First of all, I have no idea what it means but I suspect it means nothing. These are just the trivial thoughts that came to mind as we made the 9-hour trip back from Tennessee a few weeks ago. I was contemplating who and where I was in the grand scheme of life and this is what I came up with. Math tricks. Uugh.

Second of all, I don't know if anyone really cares. But I do know at least 2 math majors who read my blog and they might actually think this all a little bit interesting. They might even leave some sensible answers in my comments (if they can stop laughing at me long enough to type).

As for the rest of you, I suspect you either:

a) are trying this with your own age,
b) stopped reading a few paragraphs ago and have already swallowed two Advil caplets, or
c) are sure now that the stress has become too much for me and are wondering if it is too late to call and check on me.

If you chose c), I am fine. Really.

Our Beautiful Girl

2011-08-14T11:19:00.001-04:00

I have been at a loss for words this week. Someone I dearly love has been set on a new, life-challenging path. My sixteen year old niece, Anna, was diagnosed this week with AML Leukemia. There are no words to describe what she, her parents and the rest of our family has been through this week. There are no words to adequately prepare Anna or the rest of us for what lies ahead.

When I have no words, I turn to my photos and let them do the talking for me. Usually the images start a conversation and then I can join. The conversation today is about a girl. She's not just any girl. She is our special girl.

She is a girl of profound thought and great strength.

She is a girl of deep Faith and her Light shines.

She is a darling daughter, the one a mom with only sons would hand pick as her own if she could.

She is a girl who values family.

She has been a great cousin to my boys from the start.

She loves all her cousins.

On both sides of her family.

She cares deeply for others and brings Love to every situation.

She is a fun girl.

She is a fantastic golfer, on the links...

...and the mini variety.

She is worldly and smart.

She has maturity beyond her years. We forget that she is only sixteen.

She is a typical teenager...

...with a pleasantly atypical teenaged personality.

Anna has determination, strength, passion, focus, belief, humor, all of which will carry her through this. All of which will set the example for our family to follow.

If you pray, however you pray, please add Anna, her parents, her family, her friends, her doctors and her nurses to your list.

We love you, Beautiful Girl!

Sunday Schooled - Framing Your Organizational Beast

2011-08-07T09:34:00.001-04:00

What do you get when you have two boys who are/were both Cub Scouts, who both either have made or will make a Pinewood Derby car for every year of the five years in a Cub Scout career? The answer: no good way to store and display ten Pinewood Derby cars.

If you search, online or hoofing it around town, you won't find a way to store and display all five Derby cars for a Scout. You can find individual display boxes for a single car, but they are plastic and bulky and who really wants five, bulky plastic display cases? You have to have a fairly large shelf area for all those and that then creates another storage and display nightmare.

So what's a Cub Scout parent with a slightly compulsive organizational bent to do? Make your own custom shadow box.

That's what we did this weekend. It was fairly easy and I'll show you how we did it. I didn't take pictures from start to finish. I remembered after about three steps in to take pictures but you haven't missed much. We (Hubby and I) started with two purchased 12"x12" shadow box from Jo-ann, Etc., 3 feet of shoe molding from Home Depot, a few wooden cubes, wood glue, and black spray paint.

Each 12"x12" box needed to be configured to display five cars which each measures 7 inches in length and 2-1/2 inches in width. I won't force you to do the math because we've already done it. You'll see how that configuration works out but you'll have to wait until later. After we measured, cut and painted, this is what the project looked like.

We cut the shoe molding into sixteen 1-1/2 inch segments. The long flat pieces came with the purchased shadow box frames as spacers. We cut those into six 8 inch segments and left two uncut at 12 inches. Next we started gluing the pieces together to form our custom shadow box shelves.

You probably haven't been able to fully concentrate on the previous steps due to that math problem swirling around in your head. So I'll end your distraction by showing you the configuration.

Each horizontal shelf is eight inches long and they are spaced vertically, three inches apart. The single vertical segment is four inches wide. The shoe molding segments serve as shelf brackets and a lone wooden cube makes a pedestal for a single car.

And here are the finished products.

I bet I could sell these.

Or at least the idea.

I know the Cub Scout parental market in a small niche, but how much do you think they'd be willing to pay for a custom shadow box to display their child's handiwork?

Thaar's a Baar Over Thaar!

2011-08-02T19:26:00.002-04:00

No trip to The Peaceful Side of the Smokies would be complete without a drive through Cades Cove. And no drive through Cades Cove would be complete without some wildlife sightings. The Cove is full of deer, wild turkey and sometimes black bears. In the almost forty years that my family has been visiting the Cove, we've seen countless deer and turkey. As for the bears we have seen in those forty years, we can probably count all of them on a few hands. We can definitely recount the stories surrounding those bear sightings.

Like the time we were driving through at dusk, late dusk and were almost at the end of the loop. We were just about to write off that trip through the Cove as a disappointment (read no bears) when we looked up in the trees overhanging the road to spy a few bear cubs clinging in the branches. They were likely waiting on Mama Bear to return. We were happy not to see her and more than thrilled to see the cubs high above us in the branches.

And then there was the time in the Cades Cove picnic area when a big black bear decided that our lunch smelled good enough to investigate. So she ambled over to our table as we quickly jumped in the car. We watched from the safety of our car as she sliced open a box of Teddy Grahams (honey flavored I think) with her foreclaw and munched away. A bit ironic, don't you think?

And we can't forget the black bear who walked right up on the cabin porch and interrupted my brother and sister-in-law enjoying their morning coffee. They were between the bear and what at one time had been the location of his favorite breakfast trash can. The bear waited patiently while my brother and SIL arose from their rockers in a nonthreathening manner and slipped inside the cabin. We all watched from the windows as the bear surveyed the porch, found no breakfast and made his way to the cabin next door. That was a close one.

Another equally terrifying bear sighting for us was one last summer. On Wednesday and Saturday mornings, the Cove road is open for bikers and pedestrians only. Hubby and I had taken the boys and all of our bikes for a ride around the loop. Hubby and Leonardo had ridden ahead while Helios and I rode behind at a slower pace. As Helios and I rounded a curve, we saw Hubby and Leonardo pointing to the right into the woods and making excited, insistent, slightly panicky faces. They were making no noise but motioned to us to hurry. And then they quickly turned and rode away from us. As we approached the spot where they had been pointing, we saw a Mama Bear and three cubs sitting just a few feet off the road and literally ten feet away from us. Oh my goodness! I said in the harshest whisper I could muster, "PEDAL!" I never want to be that close to a bear and her babies ever again. Nor do I want a bear that close to my babies again.

That same week the Hubby had ridden through the Cove alone and passed a black bear sitting just off the roadway. He said the bear was close enough to have knocked him off his bike. Do you think the bears are sitting by the road watching for someone stupid enough to stop? I am sure there are more than a few someones passing through that would stop.

Our family has a healthy respect for the black bears and will keep our distance from them. Sadly, many visitors to The Smokies are not so respectful (read are a bit dense) of the bears' home and will attempt to get within swiping distance of a bear. These folks even bring their little toddlers (read morsels) up close and personal to these bears. We have witnessed many bear sightings when the tourists get very excited, forgetting that these are wild animals and approach them....in droves. We usually just drive on by shaking our heads and hoping not to read about any of the tourists in the paper the next day. One such occasion was too much for our own Mama Bear to handle. She couldn't just drive on by without letting the throngs of bear paparazzi know what she thought of their actions. As we drove by, my mom screamed from the car window, "Leave the bears alone! Leave the bears alone! Leave the bears alone!" I don't have enough room in this blog post to list the number of times she chanted that phrase but just know that phrase was ringing in many ears that night, both human and bear alike. I suspect there are families all over the nation that retell their own version of this story about the crazy, screaming bear lady hanging out of the back of the station wagon.

And now we have another bear story to add to our repertoire. This one is safe and not too exciting. But it still goes into the Bear Count. Yesterday we took another spin through the Cove and spotted four bears. First, we saw this guy ambling through the pasture.

Yes, that is a bear. He was about 50 yards away from us and our large vehicle. Just the way I like my bears.

He looks cute from this distance.

Then we went around the loop and saw these bears.

Believe me, there is a Mama Bear and her two cubs back there. They were about 100 yards away from us. Just the way I like them, even better. Let me zoom in for you.

I promise you, they are there. They're black, you know, so they blend in with the shadows. And wouldn't you know, there was a crowd gathering just loping distance away from Mama and her babies. They were armed with cameras and little children. Luckily, there were several rangers providing crowd control. After I snapped these fantastic shots from the truck window, we drove on by as we always do. You won't be reading about us in the paper.

Where There is Smoke, There are Mountains

2011-07-31T08:59:00.001-04:00

If you've ever wondered why the Great Smoky Mountains are called "Smoky", here is the reason.

This isn't a botched photo. This is the view from our deck this morning and has been the view from our deck every morning for the past week. How about a few trees for some perspective?

When we're not socked in by the "smoke", this view looks like this.

Don't feel sorry for us with our clouded views. The smoke burns off mid-morning and we do get this view frequently and all day long.

Bowling Angels

2011-07-25T20:43:00.001-04:00

My grandfathers were bowlers. This was back in bowling's heyday in the late 1950s and 1960s. They bowled like dads today mow the yard and watch ESPN, frequently and avidly. They both passed away before I had the chance to meet or really know them.

As a child, thunderstorms were scary for me. My mother told us, as she wrung her own hands in fear of storms, that the rolling claps of thunder were nothing more than our grandfathers bowling. How can you be afraid when conjuring images of angels bowling in heaven?

I hadn't thought of the bowling angels in many, many years. I have quite a different view of heaven now than I did when I was seven. But last night there was a major thunderstorm, a bowling tournament in heaven, and the bowling angels came to mind. We were perched atop our favorite ridge in East Tennessee, lying in bed, listening to celestial strike after celestial strike.

There was a new member joining the league last night. I never knew her to bowl but I guess in heaven you can pick up a new sport pretty easily. Unencumbered, anyone can bowl. Bowling angels is a silly metaphor but I do like to think of my mother-in-law being free and easy and as happy as a bowling angel.

Fresh, Free and Flavorful

2011-07-17T20:11:00.000-04:00

One of the best things about summer is the abundance of fresh veggies. We didn't plant our garden this year but we have been fortunate that a few of our neighbors have extra produce from their gardens. And they like to share. This bowl is fresh from two of our neighbors' gardens and is only a small selection of what we were given.

So what do you do with all that zucchini? This morning we had this for breakfast.

It's a heavenly combination of eggs, cheese, flour, onion and zucchini. Yummmmmm. Want the recipe?

And then for a mid-morning snack, we had one of these muffins.

Who knew white chocolate chips went so well with zucchini?

And then for dessert tonight, we had some zucchini bread.

I'd say we got our recommended allowance of veggies today. Thank you neighbors! I will be dropping some of these treats off to the neighbors. Got to make sure to keep those veggies coming our way.

Thank You For Not Biting Me

2011-07-13T20:28:00.000-04:00

I can admit when I am wrong. I submit that I do not know everything. I concur that my knowledge has limits. But I was really sure I knew what I was talking about this morning. I was confident in the answer I was giving my children. I thought their question was an easy one and answered it without any labored thought. My answer came out automatically, from the deep recall section of my brain. I don't know when I learned the answer I was giving. I have just always known the meaning of the idiom "don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

My boys wanted to know what that means. So I told them, from the deep recall section of my brain I remind you, it means to be wary of someone bearing gifts as they might have ulterior motives behind their gift giving and thus acceptance of said gift may come to "bite you" later (hence the mouth reference.)

When I was finished answering, my husband said almost mockingly, as you are probably saying right now, "No, it doesn't."

Huh?

This is the meaning I have been carrying around with me since before I can remember. And now at the age of 43, I am learning that I am mistaken? Appears so.

My husband explained, from the deep recall section of his brain too, the real meaning of the saying. Apparently, it means to not criticize or refuse something given to you. A gift is a gift and should be accepted as such.

After the peals of laughter subsided, my husband Googled it to prove it to me. Okay, I concede my error. But I am left wondering who gave me this misinformation? Or did I make this up long ago as a child, embarassed to ask the meaning myself and then letting my imagination run wild? Regardless of its origin, thankfully now I can stop worrying about mean people bearing gifts and being bitten by rabid horses. It happens, you know.

Precarious Balance

2011-07-06T10:08:00.000-04:00

This world is a wonderful place. Amazing things abound. Even in a place that you have visited countless times before, you can be surprised. My family and I were surprised this weekend. We were back in the Smokies, hiking a trail we have hiked many times before. On the Middle Prong trail, we found this rock scuplture left by some other hiker.

We thought it was a neat find on the trail. And we even tried our own balanced scuplture.

We did pretty well for amateurs on our first attempt.

The drive to and from this particular hiking trail follows the Middle Prong river. As we drove along the river after our hike, my oldest son spotted something unusual in the river.

Someone had balanced a variety of river rocks atop other river rocks.

We stopped for a closer look...

...and found a modern mountain Stonehenge.

It was all very surreal.

All known laws of gravity and physics appeared to be broken, but still the rocks stood unaided. The scene had a mystical feel.

I researched a bit and found that rock balancing is an art form and hobby. At the river, all of us tried to balance rocks with various amounts of success. None of our sculptures were as impressive as the ones we found. But here is Helios' example of balanced stacking style.

I wonder how long all these stones will remain standing? We'll be back in the Smokies again in a few weeks and we plan to check.

Cubpthskout Camp

2011-07-02T10:34:00.000-04:00

We went to Cubpthskout Camp last week. That's the phonetic spelling of Cub Scout Camp and the way many of the attending campers pronounced the name of the weeklong event. In addition to hordes of tween boys, there were lots of tongue thrusts present at camp. Speech therapists would have had a field day at camp. I personally thought it all very cute. What's not cute about an eight year old having a grand old time at...where are you again?...

Cubpthskout camp!

The theme of camp week was Medieval Adventures and it was a perfect theme for the eight year olds I was assigned to. They got right into the spirit of dragons, King Arthur and Camelot. The boys got to test their skills in archery, BB gun shooting, fishing and various sports. There were plenty of arts and crafts, woodworking and nature lessons just like a good summer camp should offer.

On the last day of camp there was a jousting demonstration. This jousting was one-sided in that the jousters were not jousting others but rather attempting to hit targets. This jouster speared a ring the size of a Life Saver candy.

Apparently jousting is a big deal in Maryland. The state boasts the oldest jousting society in America and jousting has been the official state sport since 1962. Who knew?

Anyway, back to those cute Cupthskouts. After the jousting demo, they each got to try their own jousting skills.

Sticking your tongue out really helps your aim.

Straight to the heart!

After jousting came a Castle Storm raid in the form of a wet sponge battle, just the thing to cool off overheated, overstimulated knights.

The cool sponges only served to ignite the fires of fierce competition and old-fashioned medieval rage in some.

Good thing they weren't armed with maces or lances.

Or were they? They next moved to sword fighting which thankfully utilized inflatable swords. No worries. It's just a flesh wound.

To counterbalance the primal killer instincts spawned by the water and sword battles, the boys were offered an opportunity to display their humane traits of teamwork. The agility training required good communication, patience, listening skills...things that all eight year old boys have mastered.

Back in the medieval day, they would have made good oarsmen.

Camp ended with King Arthur's feast complete with roasted turkey legs (really) and the traditional camp skit performances by all camp units. The tradition of such camp performances requires that the audience not be able to hear the performers' dialogue and the skits typically don't make sense even if the dialogue could be heard.

Not sure what was going on here but my son is the one who just performed a face plant. I assure you it was all very Shakespearean.

In the end, Cubpthskout Camp was a huge hit with my little knight. He can't wait to go again next summer.

Beach Book

2011-07-01T09:17:00.000-04:00

Every year for the last ten, I have read the same beach book. I have not been to the beach every year in those ten. In fact, I can only remember two or three beach trips in those years. And as I read my recurring beach book this year, I sit in the mountains.

I think of a beach book as a mindless, escapism read. One that will pull you out of your own life as a strong tide pulls you further from the shore. A good beach book then plops you back to awareness when reading time is done as the rollers randomly spit shells on to the sand. The next beach day, you can walk right back into a beach read as easily as walking into the surf. A good beach read leaves nothing heavy in your head and can be brushed off like dry sand with only a slight lingering grit to remind you where you've been.

My annual beach read is all the above with some exceptions. It pulls me in like the tide, but I don't float out of its grasp as easily as a shell coughed up by a wave. The coughed up shell is empty, its contents long forgotten in deep waters, but I am full of deep thoughts and reflections.

My annual beach read is never the same. Each year, it brings me something new. Even though I've read the words many times before, their meanings change each year. A new message is floated to me from far off shores every time I read the book. The messages are gifts for me to ponder, cherish and gaze upon all year long.

My annual beach read is Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

Lindbergh's book was originally intended as a private, personal essay written on a solitary vacation at the beach. But after sharing her essay with a few and discussing its contents with others, the universal and timeless concepts it holds became evident. Lindbergh turns a shell-collecting walk on the beach into an analogy for life, equating beach finds to life stages and the treasures those stages hold.

The book speaks to me differently each year as I find myself floating in, out and through life stages. I find certain chapters resonate stronger with me than in previous years. I still relate to the streamlined simplicity offered by the channelled whelk and his compact home with all he needs on his back. But in reality, I am in the oyster bed stage where the outside shell is marred by other small clinging shells and sea debris and the shape is random and bulky. Such is the quality of marriage with children. But the untidy appearance of the oyster shell is complemented by its strength and solidity and the possibility of special treasures within.

As with the different meanings I gain each year from my beach read so are the outward views I have as I read it. This year as I look up from my beach book, I gaze upon the waves and rolls of the Smoky Mountains. The view is inspiring. Maybe when I am wise, I will write the companion book to Lindbergh's. I'll call it Meaning in the Mountains.

How To Count to Eleven

2011-06-30T07:54:00.000-04:00

Leonardo is now eleven. I'm a bit late in commemorating his birthday here, but late or not, it must be done. For his birthday party, he requested to take friends to a movie and then back to our house for dinner, cake and a sleepover. We've done it before, so why not again? He celebrated his birthday with five of his closest friends. Counting his brother and him, that makes seven. Here's how the party tallied up.

Seven boys.

Two vehicles for chauffeuring.

Nine movie tickets (did you think hubby and I would send them alone?)

Seven different movie snacks.

Ninety minutes with Jack Black and Kung Fu Panda 2.

Two trips to the ATM.

Seven pairs of shoes by the front door.

Three large pizzas.

One gallon of Tang. (yes, you can still buy it and we do.)

One chocolate-on-chocolate frozen custard cake.

Two "1" candles.

Three hours of Wii and various handheld video gaming.

Seven assorted Nerf guns and requisite ammo.

Seven shrieking boys.

One hundred and ten decibels. (enough for hearing damage)

Seven sleeping bags.

One basement.

Two warnings for all-quiet.

Two post-warning trips down basement stairs

One snare drum roll after second all-quiet warning.

One more trip down basement stairs.

No more Mrs. Nice Guy.

One final trip up basement stairs.

Five hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Two boxes of donuts.

Four cups of coffee (per adult)

Five goodie bags to include Twizzlers, two-foot long Slim Jim, and super squirt water blaster.

Five Thank Yous and Good-byes.

One quiet Sunday.

Happy 11th, Big Man!

Sharks and Crafts

2011-06-24T12:26:00.000-04:00

Remember our recent excursion to Purse State Park in Southern Maryland? I told you all about it. This was the trip when we found all these prehistoric shark teeth in the shallows of the Potomac River.

We also found all these prehistoric stingray teeth.

I didn't know rays had teeth until that day on the banks of the Potomac. I didn't believe the boys when they claimed to have found ray teeth. So I Googled it right there and found out they were right. If you still don't believe that rays have teeth, I know an eleven- and eight-year old who would be willing to convince you.

Anyway, I got crafty with the teeth and made two shadowbox displays for them.

I used 60-weight sandpaper as a background and, with much finger-cramping and eye-squinting, glued the individual teeth to the background.

There is one display for each boy but of course the ongoing argument has started about who gets which display, "cuz this one has the biggest shark tooth...." Maybe by the time they have walls of their own to hang them on, they will not care about the size of the teeth. I can hope.

What color is your tube?

2011-06-20T12:05:00.000-04:00

I talk a lot about Tennessee. While I don't live in Tennessee and haven't for decades (!), we visit frequently. In fact, we were just there visiting this past weekend and I have a new story to tell.

This story takes place on the Peaceful Side of the Smokies. The little town of Townsend, Tennessee is where many of our Tennessee stories take place these days. Townsend is just a short drive from where I grew up. I have countless memories of driving the winding road to and from Townsend. Many of my teenage formative days were spent in the mountains and on the river in Townsend. Not much has changed in Townsend since my teenage years. There may be a few more tourists and a better grocery store, but much of it feels just the same.

There is one thing that has changed quite a bit though and that is tubin'. Back in the day, if you tubed on the Little River, you tubed on a black inner tube. You know the type from a big truck tire. The tubes had a big metal air-intake valve that would stab you frequently if you weren't situated just so on your tube. And as I said, the tube was black so the top side of the tube (the part not in the water) would absorb the hot summer East Tennessee sun rays making it prime for burning your armpits and tender underbellies as you repositioned yourself to avoid the air valve.

Where would a tuber get such a tube? From a guy in a van parked along Highway 321. For maybe $3. For all day. You just had to figure out how to get you and your tube from his van up the river to start. And then you had to figure how to get you and your tube back up the river to his van when you were done. That alone could take all day. And we thought it was such fun.

Tubin' now is very different. Tubin' is an industry. There are no fewer than three legitimate tubin' businesses in Townsend. Not that the guy in the van wasn't legitimate, he just didn't have a building on which to hang his shingle. I'm sure everything else he did was legit.

Each of today's tubin' companies have there own trademark item that sets them apart from the others. Usually this trademark comes in the form of the color of the tube. On any given sunny day, the river will be peppered with yellow, neon green and orange tubes. And instead of sharp pointy metal intake valves, these tubes have handles for carrying and for the younger ones to hold onto while floating down river.

The tubin' operations provide there own "put in" point on the river and a pick up point as well. They all have their territories so to speak on the river. Don't even try to put you green tube in at the yellow put in spot. At the pick up point, they actually pick up you and your tube and drive you back to your car which is parked at their put in location. So no more long walks back up river with your burning hot black inner tube and no more risky hitching for rides back to the guy in the van. That alone is worth the three- to four-fold price increase for a day of tubin'.

Yes, tubin' now costs anywhere from $9 - $13. Why would you pay $13 when you could pay $9 for the same river? That's actually one of the tubin' company's tag line. I pay $13 and I'll tell you why: Quantity. Less Quantity. I don't get more river for my money. I get less people for my money. That four extra dollars thwarts hundreds of people and sends them over to the two other tubin' businesses. So that makes my tubin' experience that much better.

I don't like crowds and I especially don't like sweaty, bathing suit clad crowds. When you have to stand in line to sign a waiver and get a tube, the last thing you want is to be skin to skin with strangers and all their cousins. We tried one of the cheaper tubin' operations once and it was way too cozy for our comfort. So we gladly pay our $4 premium for the same river. There are long lines at the River Rat at times but they are a little more tolerable for some reason. Call me a tubin' snob if you will. I guess I am. The difference in experience is sort of like being in a corporate skybox suite versus the infield at a NASCAR race.

Now that you have all the background, this brings us to our most recent tubin' experience. We tubed on Saturday on our yellow tubes ("Nothing says high class like a yellow tube!" Maybe River Rat will pick that up as their slogan). The "we" would be my two sons, their Cousin A (yes, we brought a cousin of our own) and I (or is that me?). It was a bit cloudy and rain was forecast for later in the day. We should have had plenty of time to make the 60 to 90 minute trip down the river. But right when we put in the river, there was an omen (only later recognized) that should have told us to turn back. A dead bat lay on the first large rock we passed. We had never seen that before. Actually, then my youngest son did say something about not wanting to tube as he looked at the darkening sky. But I had just paid $13+ tax (which is 9% in Tennessee!!!!) for each of four tubes so we were going down the river come dead bat or high water. And we got both.

The float was relaxing and uneventful after the bat until about one hour into the trip. The river is mostly tree-lined and shaded. So you're not real sure what's going on in the sky as far as cloud and storm activity. We rounded a bend where there were fewer trees and finally could see that the sky had darkened quite a bit to that scary, angry grey color. And the wind was picking up. Oh and we did hear some thunder. Five rounds of it according to my youngest son. I looked at Cousin A, who is 16 and who my youngest son was tethered to (literally, with a black strap provided by River Rat) and said, "let's get out here." Here was not the pick up point but rather someone's backyard. We got out of the river just in time for the clouds to burst, the wind to howl and the lightning to strike. Thankfully, the family who's backyard we were trespassing in on Riverview Drive saw us coming and gave us shelter from the storm.

No East Tennessee dramedy such as this would be complete without a colorful mix of sundry family members. So, meanwhile, Cousin A's parents and my parents were in their separate cars driving up and down Riverview Drive and Old Hwy 73 looking for us because that's what worried parents will do when their young are on a waterway during an electrical storm. I called my parents from our rescuer's house and gave them the address. I ran out in the rain (dressed only in river shoes and my bathing suit) to stand on the road (in the raging storm) to wait for them while the kids wait safely under cover by the house. In the distance I saw a car coming, thinking it was my parents, I began wildly waving my arms to flag then down.

Meanwhile again, Cousin A's parents (my brother and sister-in-law) are driving down Riverview Drive and they see some poor desperate woman, dressed only in river shoes and a bathing suit, wildly waving her arms by the roadside. "Let's help this poor woman first, then we'll find the kids," says my brother. They stop their car to help me, the poor desperate woman. At times like these, it's good to have a big family who doesn't mind driving around in dangerous weather.

We all piled in the car and headed back to River Rat to wait out the storm and meet up with my parents. Now this story would not be complete without pictures. I didn't have my camera but luckily my brother had his iphone. These don't completely do the scene justice but believe me it was a scene.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-06-08T07:05:00.000-04:00

I've been waiting for a chance to use this and Wordless Wednesday is the time. I stumbled upon this. A stranger left this word for me and anyone else who happened by. It was atop a rock on the edge of the Little River at the Y in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park on Easter weekend this year.

I find it a most powerful word. I've forgiven and been forgiven. Both are a great relief and release. The hardest part may be to forgive yourself sometimes. But that's just as important.

This post is linked up with a variety of Wordless Wednesdays...

Happy Toesday

2011-06-07T10:12:00.000-04:00

No that's not a typo. I do mean Toesday. But the message isn't coming from me. It's coming from these guys.

Here's a little end of the school year version of an old favorite:

This little piggie went to Field Day.

This little piggie went to the Family/Staff Picnic.

This little piggie went to the 5th Grade Bowling Party.

This little piggie ate pizza, ice cream, lots of candy and chips.

And this little went Wow, Wow, Wow! The school year's over!

Notice, nobody stayed home.

But this is what they all wanted to do when it was all done.

Sunday Schooled - Thank You Savings Sensei!

2011-06-05T21:15:00.001-04:00

I have never been a coupon user. My reasons have been all the common reasons that people don't use them: it takes too much time, the products I use don't offer coupons, it doesn't make that much of a difference, where you save in one place you spend in another, I cut them but forget to bring them to the store and on and on.

But since the beginning of April, I have been conducting an experiment. For the past two months, I have been cutting coupons and using them every time I shop. I wanted to see if I could actually save money on my groceries.

It all started in March when I overheard two ladies discussing their recent saving successes. I have known these women for several years but didn't know they were into the world of deep discounts. I listened discreetly for a few minutes but once they started throwing around savings amounts and deals like I had never heard before, my discretion was gone. I interrupted their conversation and asked how they saved 50% on groceries each week. I asked how they spent less than $100/week to feed their families of 3-5.

It turns out that one of these ladies is a savings genius like the kind you see on the new couponers reality shows. She, The Savings Sensei, has been coupon saving for years, maybe even decades. The Savings Sensei was more than happy to share Her knowledge. In fact, Sensei was grooming the other lady and helping her organize her savings life. And She took me under Her wing too. I had stumble upon a mentor.

Sensei's initial instruction was a bit like Mr. Miyagi's advice, seemingly unrelated to the topic at hand. She told me the first thing to do was to get a lunch box. Huh? Is there a hidden meaning here? Is lunch box couponers' speak? No, She really meant a lunch box. That is what Sensei carries her coupons around in, organized and categorized by labeled tabs, with a latch so the coupons are tucked in safe from drops and spills. Her next advice was to "just start cutting," Grasshopper.

My grocery bill has always been significantly more than $100/week. Each week, I would make a menu plan, buy the items I needed for the menu, usually all at the same store. My goal was to do all my grocery shopping in under an hour. In and out, no matter the cost. I would have to change that approach if I were to really make a go at this savings thing. Sensei told me which stores had the best deals on certain items, what stores had special double coupon days, even where to buy the newspaper at the lowest price so that even my coupons were discounted. Being that I don't bring in any money into our household, I felt it was my duty now that I had a mentor to be a good student and attempt to save. I'm not one to follow directions to the letter so I didn't a get a lunch box but I got this 10" x 5" accordion file. It fits in my purse so I can keep it with me at all times. I didn't think I would carry a lunch box that reliably. (Sorry Sensei).

And I organized it by category.

And then I started cutting.

The first day of April I set out to my local Bloom store with my coupon wallet organized and stuffed. Bloom graciously hosts a Super-Double Coupon day on the first day of the month where they double all coupons up to $1.99. Many stores double coupons but not over $1.00. So this Double Day is a sweet deal. For example, we use Rice Dream

which costs around $2.69. On Super Double Day, I used my $1.00 off coupon (which was doubled to $2.00) and I got Rice Dream for $.69! So I bought as many as I had coupons which, thanks to my new-non-Rice-Dream-using-coupon-cutting-friends, was 8 (for about the price of 2 at regular cost).

Bloom also has great BOGO offers on that day too. Sensei told me to pair my $1.00+ coupons with the BOGO offers and things can come out nearly free or just really super inexpensive. Sensei also recommends buying in quantity on sale, with a coupon not just al a Big Box Store. This is something I never did before. I would always buy as I needed rather than stocking up. Sensei told me to take advantage of deals when they are available.

Most of this stuff may seem obvious and you might be asking why one wouldn't be shopping in this manner anyway. It would be irresponsible to shop any other way, right? I refer you to the first paragraph of this post for the list of reasons. Plainly stated, it's easier, and yes irresponsible maybe, to just go buy things without working the math and the logistics of getting a discount. Ignorance is bliss and usually costs a bit more.

But at the end of my first Super Double Day, I was thrilled to see my savings of 57% off of full retail price. Oh Yeah! And I was hooked. Maybe Sensei can, but I can't save like that every time I shop (only on Super Double Days). But my total April grocery bill was 35% less than the average monthly amount for the past several months. My May bill was also down 30% from prior average. The point is I am spending less.

We have eaten just as well as we did previously. I have continued to buy the brands my family likes. I buy organic. I now have a back stock of certain items. I still make a weekly menu but I try to use what I have on hand and supplement with items that I can either get on sale or with a coupon. I print coupons off the web. I buy two Sunday papers (at a discount) and get two of each coupon so I can stock up. I routinely shop at more than one store now.

All of this change is paying off. And to prove it, here is my last grocery receipt.

The amount circled in blue is what I spent. The amount circled in red is what I saved. 51% off.

I think Sensei would be proud.

You Might Be A Redneck Woman If...

2011-06-02T22:40:00.000-04:00

To shamelessly borrow from a well-known comedian, you might be a redneck woman if you spent early Friday afternoon in the fishing department at Wal-Mart and followed that up with a stop at the liquor store to replenish your supply of Bud Light Lime. Or you might just be me getting ready for our weekend camping trip. I had to pick up bait for the boys. The BL was for the hubby and me.

We spent Memorial Day weekend camping in Southern Maryland at Cedarville State Park. We fished. We mountain biked. We ate well and a lot. We checked each other for ticks and found several. I even had the new experience of removing a leech from my son's arm. I was surprised to find that he knew what a leech was. When he said, "Mom, I've got a leech on my wrist," I didn't believe him. When was the last time you saw a leech? But he was right. And they don't come off that easily. And you bleed a bit when they do come off. Camping is not for the meek.

The highlight of the weekend, aside from the bloodletting, was a day trip to Purse State Park. It is really taking some license to call it a State Park because it is actually just a wide spot in the road surrounded by a nice forest. What you can't see from the wide spot is a majestic view of the Potomac river hidden 3/4 mile due east through the trees. The trail is not marked. You just have to trust that you will come to a good end by following the trail. And you do. This is what we saw upon exiting the forest.

The Potomac is about 3 miles wide at this location. At low tide there is a nice beach area where you can sit for a few hours and enjoy the view. Did you know rivers have tides? The Potomac does and the boys played in it for hours.

Even the big boy got in for a bit.

We were all hunting for some treasures unique to the area.

During low tide, you can sift or pan for shells

and shark teeth.

We found a few of each.

About 60 million years ago, this area was covered in shallow water populated by various sharks and rays.

Their teeth are still washing up on the beaches for little boys to collect. I find it hard to believe that those teeth are that old. But that's what the Maryland DNR website says.

After our day at Purse, the boys worked on their knot tying back at camp. This one is working on his Tenderfoot badge.

This one is working on being like his big brother.

They both have to know how to tie a taut line knot

and a two half-hitch, which to me just sounds like a whole hitch but I was a Girl Scout so what do I know?

I do know that when I was a Girl Scout I thought Boy Scouts did things that were much more fun than what the Girl Scouts did. I still think that.

Does that add to my potential redneck woman status?

I don't care if it does.

But it makes it easier to be a mom of two boys.

From One Cook to Another

2011-05-24T23:41:00.000-04:00

Earlier this year, I started a series of posts on family heirlooms that I have in my home. I'll take up the series again here with a visit to my little antique cookbook collection. It is a small collection of five but all the important elder ladies in my life, present and past, are represented by this collection.

Starting from the left, is the Culinary Arts Institute (Chicago) Encyclopedic Cookbook. This cookbook belonged to my maternal grandmother, Oma. It's a hefty volume that begins with this inner cover page:

Interestingly, the first copyright date in this book is 1940, just shortly after the 1939 release of The Wizard of Oz. I wonder where they got their idea for this page?

I think the publishers may have borrowed another idea from The Gales of Kansas: the cellar. This cookbook goes beyond cooking to food storage and actually has blueprints for building an underground root cellar.

I think someone's gingham dress might get a wee bit dirty digging a cellar. For the record, Oma never built a root cellar as far as I know.

The next cookbook also belonged to Oma and was given to her by her mother. It is the Household Search Light Recipe Book published by The Household Magazine in 1941.

The book's foreword states that the

"Household Searchlight is a service station conducted for the readers of The Household Magazine. In this seven room house lives a family of specialists whose entire time is spent in working out the problems of homemaking common to every woman who finds herself responsible for the management of a home and the care of children."

Sort of a think-tank for homemakers. That's what I envision work life at Real Simple or in the Martha Stewart empire is like.

The best thing I found in this book was the answer to "What is hassenpfeffer?" And further, how to serve it.

I always thought hassenpfeffer was an insulting euphemism that Yosemite Sam used on Bugs Bunny to keep the cartoons clean. But I was wrong; it's rabbit stew. Now, I can't decide if I should serve hassenpfeffer or fried squirrel for Memorial Day dinner. What do you think?

The center book in the collection belongs to my mother-in-law. She gave it to me recently and I was so happy to put it with my others. The Better Homes and Gardens New CookBook is probably the most recognized cookbook cover ever. Most women doing any sort of cooking in the '50s and '60s had a copy. This copy shows original copyright dates of 1953 and again in 1962. I also got a bonus in this book in the form of several old notes and recipes handwritten by my MIL.

The BHaG CookBook has tons of color pictures and everything looks delicious. My favorite picture is this one in the "Special Helps" chapter showing the "efficient kitchen." I love the rotisserie right there in the kitchen.

The next cookbook is my mother's "The Spice Cook Book". It's the youngest being copyrighted in 1964. My mother must have been going through a phase when she purchase this book. I equate it to my own phase when I purchased my "Glorious One-Pot Meals" cookbook. Both of us must have been searching for something that was missing at those points in our lives. (Am I reading too much into this?)

Anyway, the book did give me further insight into my mother. This totally explains her dill pickle phase.

I would just like to know whose evil eyes she was averting...

And finally, the must have "Joy of Cooking" belonged also to my mother. She got her copy in 1956. It is a nice comprehensive cookbook but the thing that makes this one valuable is not its age or the book itself. The value of this book lies in what is taped inside. The original copy and only know written form of a valued family recipe was carefully taped to the inside cover of this cookbook.

The recipe is my paternal grandmother's recipe for Lentil Soup. The copy seen here was from a typed letter sent from GranMaggie in Belleville, Illinois to my mother in Frankfurt, Germany sometime around 1957. I love the conversational tone of this recipe.

You must know that I am taking quite the risk by divulging the whereabouts of this recipe as certain members of my family may feel that they would be the better custodian of this family jewel. But alas, I have it. And I can cook the authentic family Lentil Soup anytime I want.

Bon Appetit!

Eight is Great!

2011-05-24T11:40:00.000-04:00

A few weeks back my baby turned eight. It can't be. But it is. Worse yet, his brother is eleven. But that's another post. I've talked before about the sunshine that is my baby. He's gained a few pounds since that original post but his force is still the same. And there is a bit of eight year old mischevious boy mixed in too.

His birthday celebration was a small affair with only a few friends and his brother attending. We went to a local theater and got celebrity treatment. First, the birthday boy got to start the film by pushing THE button in the projectionist's booth.

Then, we watched the movie from a private lofty room high above the rest of the theatre seating. The private box is soundproof making the movie experience for the commoners down below what it should be: one where the group of prepubescent boys are seen but not heard.

As celebrities (otherwise known as the people who paid extra to see the movie), we brought in our own food - pizza, juice and our candy of choice. There was even a waitress who kept the boys' plates full of pizza and the candy and juice flowing freely. We didn't have to pay extra for the waitress because I was the waitress. So really, it was just like being at home for all of us. Ahem.

The after-the-movie-party was back at our house where the boys did what boys do. Made noise, played video games, wrestled, made more noise.

And of course there was cake.

The next day my baby said to me, "You throw the best parties Mom. Thanks!"

To which, I melted.

Eight is great!

Friday Fragments - Spring Edition

2011-05-20T20:08:00.000-04:00

Thankfully Spring is finally here. Unfortunately, it has brought lots of rain.

This baseball season we've had more rained out practices and games than ones that have actually occurred. But there have been enough sunny days for me to get a few pictures. Check the focus on the ball as the runner on first advances.

Have you ever seen a cuter baseball player?

I didn't think so.

Spring is also time for band concerts.

So serious. And handsome too.

Spring is also time for my azaleas to show off.

Reminds me of Atlanta.

Yay Spring!

Down By the Lazy River

2011-05-14T22:57:00.001-04:00

I haven't been able to blog consistently in the recent weeks. There has been so much real live stuff going on that I can't really find the time to b-log it all down. I am tempted to do one big post that has little bits of this, pictures of that and a complete summary of all events of late. I would then be fully caught up and hopefully wouldn't let such a backblog occur again. But one combined post wouldn't do any of the fun stuff justice. So I'll just live with my backblog and hope to chip away at it before the upcoming weeks (which look just as busy as the past weeks) overtake me. At which point, I will give up and you will likely see a compilation post.

One of the fun things that happened recently was that Bo Weevil performed at the Shenandoah River Songfest.

As you can see, the festival literally is on the river for which it is named. You probably haven't heard of the SRSF but it has been around for eight years. One of the main reasons you may not have heard of it is because it is a private, by invitation only event. Both the performers and the guests are invited. You have to know the lovely hosts or at least have a recommendation from someone within the circle of trust to come to the festival. That may sound a bit highfalutin for an outdoor concert, but it's not; it makes sense. The festival is hosted by some gracious folks on their private riverfront property near Luray, Virginia. They invite their friends and friends of their friends and keep it manageable in size and respect for the property. By my quick visual estimate, there were around 70 people at the event this year. A good sized group for a party in your backyard.

But the SRSF is not just a backyard party. It is a well-run outdoor concert with a most appreciative audience. Everyone is there to hear the music. They bring their comfy camp chairs, upscale picnic fare and beverages of choice to listen to 6 hours of scheduled music starting around noon. And then many stick around for the unscheduled music jam that begins after dinner.

This was Bo's first appearance at the SRSF via an invitation from Pops Walker who we had met at a house concert last fall. All the other performers were returning acts to the festival. Here's a visual listing of the performers' roster. Pops Walker and Kipyn Martin performed both separately and together. Pops is a seasoned bluesman. Kipyn is a songbird. She was also at the house concert we went to last fall. And she blew me away with her voice again at the SRFS.

Also on the roster was Chuck E. Costa, the current Connecticut State Troubadour.

And Lara Herscovitch, the former Connecticut State Troubadour.

I didn't know there was such a thing as a state troubadour in Connecticut or elsewhere for that matter. But after hearing Chuck & Lara, I can understand why they would be named as such.

The SRSF is a family-friendly event and just to prove it, one of the acts was the highly entertaining father and son duo,

Beaucoup Blue.

Zippy Jones added a retro feel to the event with her vocal and guitar stylings that conjured the female singers of the 1930s.I wish Zippy had a website I could direct you to.

And of course, Bo Weevil was there burning up the frets with his finger-picking style.

And his twist on ragtime.

He was well-received as the newcomer to the festival. Maybe we'll all be back next year.

Funny footnote: The title of this post popped in to my head and I knew it was a song lyric from my past. But I couldn't place it. So I Googled it and was very surprised at the source of this lyric. Funny what we carry around in our long-term memory.

Smoky Mountain Rain

2011-04-28T14:11:00.000-04:00

Our spring break was spent in the Great Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee. Each time I go back to the Smokies, I find that I love it even more than the last. This time was no exception.

We camped right on the banks of the Little River and were lulled to sleep every night by its rushing flow. And by rushing, I really mean rushing. The water in the Smokies is very high right now. All of you living in the Tennessee area are saying, "Yes, we know. It won't stop raining." But all that rain you've been having worked for me. In all the years I lived in Tennessee and all the years I have been visiting Tennessee, I have not seen the rivers this high. And they are beautiful. These pictures don't do justice to the beauty but I tried.

This is just one amazing view of the Middle Prong of the Little River situated near the former logging town of Tremont. We hiked far and away into the hills, following the Middle Prong and saw nothing but this...

And this...

There were waterfalls everywhere not so sneakily sliding down the moutainside to join up with Middle Prong.

We were alone on the trail for most of our hike but did come upon one nice couple who took our picture.

Notice our custom whittled hiking sticks. They are works of art, each one proportionally sized to match our height. We receive many comments from passing hikers about our sticks. Hubby and sons whittled them on one of our camping trips last summer. Whittling is not something I bet you do very often. If you camped, you would.

Another thing you would do if you camped or hiked would be to relax more. As with all vacations, it takes a few days in the woods to get fully relaxed and let go of all the things going on at home. Here's an example. On one of the early days in the week, we visited the Great Smoky Mountain Heritage Center in Townsend, a museum focused on preserving and presenting the history of the East Tennessee mountain communities.

While passing through the Pioneer and Mountain Culture exhibit, my youngest said, "Mom, there are too many irons in the fire." Or at least that's what I heard him say as visions of the ongoing home remodeling project, pending doctor visits and school commitments swirled in my not-yet-relaxed brain.

What he really said was, "Mom, there are two mini irons in the fire," as he pointed to this exhibit.

It may have been my unrelaxed state of mind that made me misinterpret what my son said. Or it could have been that my ears had re-acclimated to the East Tennessee twang where "many" sounds like "mini" as in "How mini mini muffins will you eat for breakfast, hon?"

I just love East Tennessee. How mini days til we can go back agin?

Take a Hike...

2011-04-22T09:03:00.000-04:00

...in the woods...nowhere in particular to go...at no particular speed.

Behind the Music

2011-04-20T21:40:00.000-04:00

Bo Weevil (a.k.a. my husband) performed yesterday on a live webcast. Eleven O'Clock Rock, an internet video show based in Knoxville, Tennessee, graciously hosted Bo during their Tuesday spot this week.

This was a first for Bo Weevil, performing live streaming on the web. You can watch the whole hour show on Knoxivi.com (say Nox-Ivy).

Look for the 4/19/2011 performance of Bo Weevil. Eleven O'Clock Rock show airs live on the web weekdays at 11:00 a.m. and they archive past shows for your future viewing pleasure. So you can watch Bo as many times as you want. And I know you will.

The boys and I tagged along and watched the production. I, of course, had my camera and got some cool, behind the scenes shots. The webcast hosts are Brent Thompson and Lauren Lazarus. They are funny, entertaining and have a nice banter. And look how cute they are.

As guests of the talent, we got to see the show as it was being made. Well, really anybody can see the show being made. The studio is located in the busy Market Square downtown district in Knoxville surrounded by a thriving lunch crowd. Anyone can walk in and peek inside the studio windows and see the magic unfold.

You won't see this on the actual show. But from my behind the scenes view, I caught the cameraman counting down the start of the show...5, 4, (then silently 3, 2, 1)...just like they do on TV!

The show format is music, local interest news, music, interview, music.

There is a monitor for onlookers to watch the show as it is recorded. On the monitor you can see the hosts bantering with the guest...

...and two views of the interview.

And of course there was some more music.

Notice the "seasoned" couple standing by the studio window. They were dancing arm in arm to the music. I overheard the gentleman say to his lady, "We sure are lucky," and they continued their singular sway. Just proves that Bo Weevil music makes you feel good.

No matter how old you are.

Boys to Men

2011-04-12T11:04:00.000-04:00

My boys aged years before my eyes on Sunday. I took a step back at their annual Cub Scout Blue & Gold Banquet and saw that they had grown up without me noticing. I know they are still young boys but I could see the men forming inside. I could see it...

...as Colors were presented.

...as pledges were made.

...as anthems were sung.

...as words of gratitude were spoken.

...as symbols of courage and focus were eaten.

...as new ranks were attained.

...as parents beamed.

...as milestones were reached.

...as final salutes were given and bridges were crossed.

...as new colors were donned.

...as new oaths were taken.

...and as my mother cried.

No wait, that's me. She and I just share the same crying face.

...Also as little brother's made a video for posterity and time with the ladies simultaneously.

...and as brothers shared in each other's success.

Congratulations ~~boys~~ men!

Education Is...

2011-04-05T21:13:00.000-04:00

Education is empowering. That was the message imparted today by Greg Mortenson of Three Cups of Tea fame. He was here speaking as the Frederick Reads author of 2011. I heard him speak this morning at his Frederick Community College engagement.

It has been some time since I read Three Cups, so many of the details were fuzzy to me. But I do recall the book painting the picture of Mortenson as a large but unassuming character, driven but not pushy, focused but not single-minded. He lived up to that image in person today. He has accomplished great things but with an air of humility credits the people he has helped and those around him for the success of his vision.

He has committed his life over the past many years to establishing schools in Afganistan and Pakistan. While there are complex issues surrounding those geographical, religious and political areas, the underlying truth is that education does empower those needing empowerment, controversial issues aside.

Mortenson started off his talk with a call to those in the audience who in their family are a first-generation high school or college graduate. Several people stood up. Mortenson and the rest of us through applause congratulated those standing on their achievements. Mortenson commented on the difficulty to overcome obstacles for those standing to get where they are without family role models.

I don't know how hard that is and I won't pretend to. I am a third-generation (or possibly fourth-) college graduate. It was engrained in me from birth that I was going to college. It was a given, not optional. But don't misunderstand, I am not a silver-spoon girl. My parents did not have all the money to send me to college. They contributed what they could. But I, and my three brothers before me, made it through college with a mix of scholarships, loans, minimum wage pay and the kindness of strangers and friends.

The most important thing my parents did was to place value on education. I thank them for that. Some aren't so lucky. Some don't have the luxury of placing value on education; they are concerned about things like feeding their families. Things many of us really don't know about. Really.

Mortenson's work focuses on Central Asia. I am thankful there are people like Mortenson in the world who can wrap their heads around issues like he does. I must honestly say I can't get my head around issues that far from home right now. My world is here. And I am concerned about making sure that my kids continue our generational streak of college graduation. And like it wasn't for me, college won't be optional for them. But not because my husband and I say so. It will be because just graduating high school and college won't be enough when their time comes. Heck, it isn't enough now to guarantee a secure future. My kids will likely need to be first generation PhDs and still that's a gamble with security.

But who's gonna pay for all that? Have you checked a college tuition calculator lately? Shocking. So while education is empowering another truth exists: Education is expensive.

Mushy Bananas & Prunes - Not Just For Babies Anymore

2011-04-03T11:30:00.000-04:00

I like to feed my family well. I try to avoid overly processed foods with long ingredient lists. We do live in this world so we can't completely avoid the bad stuff. But I can make good choices and with a little extra effort make some very healthy and tasty dishes. What I give up in convenience, we all gain in better food.

My latest concoction is this yummy oatmeal. I take old-fashioned oatmeal (not the quick cook kind) and cook as directed. Then I add a couple of spoonfuls of light brown sugar.

Next I mash a banana. I thought when my last son sprouted a few teeth I would never be mashing bananas again. I was wrong. They make a great addition to my oatmeal.

I mix in the mushy banana and then top it all with something a bit surprising even to me. Dried plums.

We all know that they are really prunes but the SunSweet people think dried plums sound more appetizing. This is apparently a food that somehow makes it into your grocery cart after a certain age. They actually are good and don't make me gag like something called a prune might. And look how good this looks.

And no partially hydrogenated anything, no high fructose corn syrup. I have a thing about those items showing up in almost every grocery item and like to control it when I can.

Do You Accept Cash or Check?

2011-03-28T13:20:00.000-04:00

When we moved here in the last hours of 2001, I was very aware of what I was leaving behind in Atlanta: the place where I began and ended my first career, the town where we were DINKS, the restaurants and bars we loved, our first house where our first son was born, a multitude of friends, familiarity. When I awoke on the first day of 2002, I was very conscious of what we had come to in this new town. And it was all unknown.

We knew a few, really two, people and would quickly meet a few more through my hubby's job. But those first long days for me at home with a toddler were lonely without my network of friends. I had been very fortunate in Atlanta to move almost seamlessly from my professional life to my life as a mom. I had left work on Friday, unexpectedly had the baby Monday morning and by a week later had a group of friends all with brand new babies. We met at the hospital through a breastfeeding group. It was the quickest formation of a group of friends I had seen since my sorority days. We were old friends immediately and for my next 20 months we occupied each other's days with conversation and good old-fashioned female camaraderie.

It was during that period was when I first heard of the MOMS Club International. MOMS Club is a network of local chapters of support groups for stay-at-home moms. The club provides activities for SAHMs and their kids. It costs about $20 per year to join. My initial thought on the MOMS Club way back then was, "who needs that?" I had my own little support group in my circle of mom friends and as one of them put it when we discussed the MOMS Club, "You have to pay $20 to make friends??"

Then I moved away from my circle. Then I didn't know anybody in my new town. Then I would have paid good money for a friend. And I did. I saw an ad in our local paper that a new MOMS Club chapter was starting in my new area and was seeking board members. I couldn't dial the phone fast enough to volunteer to be the Vice President of the new chapter. And I wrote my check for $20 to seal the deal.

I had no idea what I was signing up for, having never been part of a MOMS Club. But I was willing to try anything. And for the next several years I spent my time at play dates and activities sponsored by our chapter. Each month I had a full calendar of events from which to choose. I knew there would be a trip to the local zoo or a visit to a park day to occupy my toddler and me almost any day of the week. And there would be friendly faces to share those activities with.

I paid $20 each year to keep those activities coming. It was well worth my money and not for the activities alone but for the friendships that were built standing around playground equipment or while sitting in a soon-to-no-longer-be-a-stranger's kitchen.

I am no longer part of the MOMS Club as PTA and Cub Scouts have taken precedence over our time now. But the friendships remain. We don't see each other as frequently as back in our pre-elementary school days. But the bonds are strong and we catch up over coffee or at after school pick up like things have never changed. To shamelessly steal from some marketing genius, MOMS Club membership: $20; the friendships that come along with it: priceless.

I recently said goodbye to a MOMS Club friend who moved away. Her move prompted these thoughts. She is moving to a new town where they know no one. Sounds familiar. We've all been in similar situations where we feel alone. There are some doors we must walk through alone. But usually when you make those initial hard solitary steps through the door there is someone, a old friend who can make you laugh, a new neighbor with a cup of coffee, your spouse who knows you best, or in some cases someone willing to accept cash or check, to close the door behind you and welcome you to your new home.

Want To Come Over and See Our Vacation Slides?

2011-03-25T21:14:00.000-04:00

Even though it has been a few weeks and many other exciting life events have occurred since our trip to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, I must post another batch of photos and commentary about our trip. It was such a fantastic time for us all and I'm all about saving memories here on this blog. This may be a bit like inviting you over to view our vacation slides minus the actual slideshow. And I'm not serving you dessert. But bear with me while I show a few highlights. Really, it will only be a few.

Where else to begin but where the adventure begins? Here is handsome hubby with the two extremely excited Potter fans at the park entrance.

It was a perfect day to visit Harry's world. By perfect I mean it was rainy, dreary and cold. Very appropos weather for visiting England. But the weather did not dampen any spirits as is clear in these happy faces as they had their first view of Hogwarts in the distance.

You would have thought the boys were really about to board the Hogwarts Express by their level of excitement. I know it's hard to tell from the pictures, but they were beside themselves. And don't worry. They regained the use of their arms in some of the later images. And their hands showed back up in the afternoon.

The people at Universal did a great job of replicating the village of Hogsmeade complete with cobbled streets and wonky chimneys. The only things out of place were the shorts and flip flops. Even though it was cold and dreary, some of the tourists insisted on standard Florida attire.

The non-wizard dress was allowed but there was at least one rule that was clearly stated and enforced.

We really felt like we were in the middle of J.K. Rowlings' imagination when we approached this.

And this.

I think we should take a break from the slideshow for a bit. I'm going to have some dessert now. Maybe you could go have some too and come back later for the rest of the vacation pictures. Really, there are more.

Sunday Schooled - Biscuits

2011-03-20T10:08:00.001-04:00

"Reckon you make me some biscuits" -

Karl portrayed by Billie Bob Thornton in Slingblade

We love biscuits in our house. And there's nothing better than Sunday morning biscuits. Pillsbury makes Sunday morning biscuits easy with these:

But just like many convenience foods, they have their drawbacks. The ease, taste and lack of mess of these biscuits can't make up for their unfortunate content of partially hydrogenated oils. At least they don't contain high fructose corn syrup but I still feel guilty knowingly serving them to my family when I know there is a reasonable substitute.

And that reasonable substitute is actually making the biscuits homemade. So once the last of the partially hydrogentated biscuits were gone from our freezer, I decided to try the homemade approach. It's really not that hard or messy. Here's the recipe I used for eight biscuits.

1 cup all-purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup plus 2 TBS milk

flour for surface

1/4 cup butter, melted

In a small bowl, mix flour, baking powder and salt. Cut in butter until dough forms coarse crumbs. Add milk and stir with a fork until dough forms a ball. Place ball on floured surface and knead 4-5 times.

Roll dough to 1/2 inch thickness and cut with biscuit cutter. I don't have a biscuit cutter so I used the floured rim of a glass like my grandmother taught me.

Place cut biscuits on lightly greased baking sheet. Remember that melted butter? Brush about 1 TBS on the top of each biscuit before baking at 450 for 9-11 minutes.

or until golden brown.

Reckon you'll enjoy these preservative-free, homemade Sunday morning biscuits.

Expanding Heads

2011-03-16T17:40:00.000-04:00

Good prevailed over evil and we were able to make our trip to Florida and The Wizarding World of Harry Potter last week. There were many highlights of our trip and it may take a few posts to cover them all. Today I am focusing on a new treat that we love and a new spell that we learned.

For you Potter fans, you know that Butterbeer is the drink of choice in Hogsmeade, a wizardy concoction that is served up in wizard pubs. I had a hunch that I would love Butterbeer. What wouldn't I love about the combination of two of my favorite food groups? The combination of butter and beer sounds as divine as dark chocolate olive oil or Starbucks pizza. You just wait; I am sure those combos are undergoing consumer research studies as we speak.

But back to the Butterbeer. We have had Butterbeer now and we know why the wizards love it so much. It is rich and creamy and sweet.

~~Sadly~~ Luckily, it's non-alcoholic. So no worries about the boy enjoying a pint.

It tastes like a cross between cream soda and homemade root beer. It is topped off with a frothy buttery, whipped creamy head that gets bigger as you drink. Literally, the inch high head expanded to fill the cup as you emptied it of the drink. Wizardy stuff. Must have been some sort of expansion spell. Expecto Expanso!

Got Butterbeer?

The creamy top of the Butterbeer wasn't the only thing that expanded that day. Did you notice my hair in the Got Butterbeer image above? Scroll up and look again. It's pretty big, right?

Well, this is the way my hair started the day.

Normal size.

I'm not sure who conjured the expansion spell but if it was only intended for the Butterbeer, it landed on another head as well. Now I know, when in Florida - Expecto Humidify!