My fingernails are still orange

It was carrot harvesting time this weekend at Rebecca’s little garden. My friend Faye told me to wait until the first frost to dig them up but it was pretty dang cold Thursday night so I figured we were okay. Plus, our carrots were running all over each other and they had no room to grow, anyway. It was time to dig ‘em up.

Rebecca and I pulled them all Friday afternoon. We started around 2:30; by 5:30 I was still cleaning carrots. Apparently my mother thought planting 500 carrot seeds was a good idea…

I imagine we had at least 400 carrots of all shapes and sizes. We had some normal-shaped ones but some were quite freaks of nature. (No phallic comments, please. You can’t come up with any we haven’t already joked about. Well, Chef might…)

We peeled and cooked several for Friday night’s dinner and they were delicious. You really can taste the difference. Sweeter, maybe? They just tasted farm-fresh. Rebecca was so proud that she’d contributed to our meal.

Amy eats raw carrots like candy but even so I knew she couldn’t clear the number of carrots from our haul, so I set about learning how to freeze carrots. It’s not that hard – you just have to wash them, peel them, blanch them, plunge them into cold water, dry them, then stuff them in freezer bags and throw them in the freezer. Not hard. But incredibly labor intensive.

I must have peeled carrots for over an hour. And with all that peeling came lots of peels. I know someone’s going to say, “You really should compost that.” Don’t bother. Doing this little garden is enough for me right now.

Of course, if I had composted the peelings I wouldn’t have clogged up my disposal, which Sean had to unclog with the plunger. No, we do not have a dedicated sink plunger – this problem has never occurred before. Believe me when I say I have cleaned the sink repeatedly.

Even if the toilet plunger hadn’t been in my sink I would still have bleached it because all the peelings and clogged water left an orange ring on the sink. The first bleaching didn’t do the job so I soaked the sink with bleach water overnight; that finally did the trick.

The good news is I have several baggies of fresh-frozen carrots in the freezer. I know it will be fun to pull them out in a month or so and tell Rebecca, “Look! These are the carrots you grew!” And I’m sure by then I’ll have forgotten about the toilet plunger in the sink.

Maybe.

Parental involvement would have been nice

Sean has pipe organ lessons every other Saturday at a local Episcopal church where his teacher is the organist. Sometimes the kids go with him; the church elders are usually there getting the sanctuary ready for Sunday services which fascinates Rebecca. She’s become good friends with one of the elders who lets her put the cup and plate and water and communion things out. She’s intrigued by how different the stuff needed for an Episcopal service is from ours.

(The one Sunday we visited because Sean was filling in for his organ teacher Rebecca gasped out loud during Communion because everyone drank from the same cup. “I am never becoming Episcopalian!” she declared.)

This Saturday Michael and Rebecca accompanied Sean. The church was having a rummage sale, so while Sean attended to his lesson Rebecca and Michael perused the items up for sale. Of all the things available, Michael came home with this treasure:

I could not believe it. The boy who cannot part with a dollar spent one on this. And he thinks it adorable.

What was Sean thinking? "He bought it while I was having my lesson! I didn't know!" he claimed.

I made it very clear that donkey was to stay in his room. Always. Forever. Amen.

Of course, Saturday evening the donkey (whose name is now Don Key) was still in the family room. When I walked by and glanced in I scared myself to death – I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew it wasn’t supposed to be there.

It is now in his room. Where it will stay.

Or else Don Key gets it.

Friday Funnies

I am pleased as punch for Friday. Long week all around.

What is it about car chases? Just can't look away:



Nice to see I'm not the only one with the occasional computer problem:


see more Fail Blog

I try to keep my video posts to three minutes or less. This one, however is almost eight minutes. Honey, let me tell you it is worth the while. Jeanne Robertson is hysterical. Do yourself a favor and watch; you will laugh and laugh and laugh. If I close my eyes when I listen to her I feel like I'm home. FYI: Left Brain is her husband. (And I'm sure my husband will love the pipes for the ginormous pipe organ behind her.)



I hope you have a fabulous Saturday and a restful Sunday!

Like father like daughter

When Michael was three he could name almost all current cars, make and model. Sean would take him into a dealership and Michael would amaze the salesmen; Michael would run up to a car, call out to Sean, “Daddy, Pontiac Sunfire!” The sales guys didn’t believe that Michael really knew his cars so they’d try to stump him. No one ever did.

I thought it was a fun daddy/son thing then and Michael’s interest in all things motorized has not waned. The two of them read car magazines, leave articles out for each other, talk about cars as they pass by, tap on the window to signal a cool something driving past. It’s a wonderful common ground for my two guys.

I didn’t bargain on Rebecca getting into the act.

But she can hold her own as they name the cars or talk about which wheels they like. And she truly enjoys hitting the car shows with the guys; she’s intrigued by the artistry of the molding and the shape of the sheet metal. And I think she really likes hanging out with Dad and big brother.

Her favorite car has always been the Volkswagen Beetle. The old ones. Sean had several in high school, late ‘60’s models, and he has a soft spot in his heart for those Bugs. If he were to work for any other car company I think it would be Volkswagen… He passed on his love for the Beetle to Rebecca.

Yesterday she and I ran to the post office and in the parking lot sat a Bug. It was newer than Sean’s but still old enough for Rebecca to love. She asked if she could take a few pictures and as she was snapping away the owner of the car came out of the post office. He was in his mid-60’s and thoroughly enjoyed someone taking an interest in his car. She smiled at him and said, “I like your car.” He said, “Boys and their toys!”

We went about our business but Rebecca was totally taken by the car. She said, “Mom, I’m so glad we came to the post office when we did. Otherwise we would have missed the Bug.”

This is definitely beyond the point of liking something because dad or big brother does. She really likes cars because she likes them.

I know her dad, brother and grandfather will be pleased.

Be careful what you pray for ...

Atlanta's experienced drought conditions for several years now. Two Novembers ago Georgia’s governor, Sonny Perdue invited people to pray for rain.

Pretty sure he’s stopped by now.*

After receiving several days of heavy downpours Atlanta is one big puddle. I’ve heard from several friends with flooded basements. Thankfully that’s all that was flooded for my peeps on the northeast side of the city; Georgians west of Atlanta haven’t fared as well.

Homes in Carrolton, west of Atlanta

Six Flag's Scream Machine partially underwater. (By the way, that pavilion is where I saw Amy Grant in June, 1983. Just in case you wanted to know.)

A Chevy Avalanche underwater. Michael was not pleased by this picture.

A flooded Toyota Prius. Michael wasn't too upset by this one. Of course, he's sorry for the owner but hopes this will give the guy a chance to buy a real car.

As bad as Atlanta’s traffic is normally I can’t even imagine what it was like when the highway flooded. The intersection of 285 and 85, lovingly termed Spaghetti Junction, was overcome by water, leaving motorists stranded for miles. The pictures are simply astonishing.

The one good bit of news to come from the flood conditions: Lake Lanier is almost full. It will be nice to drive by it and not see red Georgia clay where water should be.

Lake Lanier

News of the rain is very good news for Rebecca who joined Governor Purdue and prayed regularly for the drought to end. She was very concerned that Nanny and Grandma couldn’t water their flowers or grass.

She doesn’t have to worry about that any more.

________________________________

*Thanks to Tina for a great FB post that prompted me to write about this!

Just a few years ago

Saturday was our 17th wedding anniversary. We’re pretty pumped because we’re able to count more good years than bad! Years 1– 5 were good, mainly because we were young, stupid and too tired to argue thanks to having two babies while Sean finished grad school. Years 6 – 12 were bad. Way, way, bad. Got older but not wiser, love got harder and we were still tired from babies one and two; baby three added to the sleep deprivation. Years 13 – 17 saw improvements. Got more sleep thanks to the kids getting more sleep. We got older and thankfully a wee bit wiser.

Our wedding was spectacular. We get comments all the time from folks who had a blast that night. The ceremony was full of magnificent music and excellent words. The reception was full of good food, great music and visiting with wonderful friends and family. It was a remarkable night.

As I think back on it one of my favorite memories is talking with a table full of friends from college. I wanted to pull up a chair and stay with them for the evening but I had to make the rounds. I don’t have many regrets about that day but not spending more time with my college friends who drove a really, really long way to see me get hitched is one of them.

Music was a huge part of the day. The music for the ceremony was a perfect blend of our tastes. My elementary school piano teacher played a medley of Amy Grant songs, Sean’s church organist played nearly 30 minutes before the actual ceremony began, and the best music minister ever directed a flautist, French horn player, pianist, vocalists and guitarist to make some of the sweetest music I’d ever heard. Bonus – all musicians were our good friends from church.

The music at the reception was flat-out fun. I had a very specific list of songs for the DJ, including The Pina Colada song which Sean and I loved. Apparently we didn’t listen to the words very closely. It’s not exactly the best song to play at a wedding but we liked it and danced to it and ignored the part about the husband getting tired of his lady who had already placed a personal ad for a secret rendezvous with someone not her husband.

I question the inclusion of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me as well.

Our first dance was to Harry Connick Jr.’s Recipe for Making Love, chosen solely for its time: 2:38. Sean didn’t want to dance any longer than he had to. It was a good decision. The man can play piano like a pro but cannot make his feet move to the beat.

That night I would not have believed anyone who told me marriage would be a struggle. We were in love and I thought that feeling would never end. (Did I mention I was young? And stupid?) Seventeen years later I know good marriages don’t just happen; they’re fought for, sometimes daily, sometimes hourly. But the fight is good, the struggle sanctifying.

And the making up is pretty darn sweet, too.

Happy anniversary to us!

Wedding Funnies

Our 17th wedding anniversary is tomorrow. Thankfully, none of the clips from this video was taken on our special day (although my dad did step on my cathedral-length veil after giving me away, pulling it totally off – I was blissfully unaware until I watched the wedding three weeks later!).

Tim Hawkins on having a happy marriage:



I saw this a few months ago and thought it was a fun way to start a wedding!




Happy weekend, everyone!

Chore Chart Update!

A week ago Sean introduced his new chore chart for the kids. He envisioned they would fill in the circles on the chart after they finished their chore. He wanted a nice, dark circle. I think the personalities of our children shine through by simply looking at how they filled in the circles:

First line: Michael. The first day he thought all Sean cared about was the circle was marked. Sean said he wanted it filled in. First born dutifully filled it in until Sunday when he his true feelings about the chart surfaced and he resorted to the X.

Second line: Amy. She was not about to simply darken her circle. She had to editorialize portions and draw pictures. She did conform for two days but with green and red ink but all that conformity was too much for her so she completely ignored the chart the following day even though she did her chore.

Third line: Rebecca. Tuesday’s drawing is the Volkswagen symbol. Wednesday’s an on/off switch. Thursday she picked a star. Friday she drew a container of Clorox wipes which she used to do her chore. Saturday a simple line did the trick. And Sunday, the last was first! Look at that smiley face.

I know Sean just wants them to color in the circle but the race is on now for the most creative circles.

All I can say is he asked for it!

Pants in the light and other pictures from the weekend

I don’t know what it is about the entryway light but there’s some strange, magnetic pull that causes my little people to want to hurl stuff up there. This time, pajama bottoms. (Before it was a rubber duckie and Pooh Bear.)

I’m beginning to think I should just stay out of the kitchen. First I drop a cheesecake, then I get my hand stuck in a vase I was cleaning. As I stuck my gloved hand into the vase I said, “This is a bad move.” For a moment I thought I’d have to break the glass to get free but Sean helped get me unstuck.

I saw this at Home Depot on Friday. I am not ready for this. Of course, this week the most beautiful summer days we’ve had appeared and we spent our days inside doing school.

Did I mention I am not ready for snow throwers to be on sale? Basically I'm not ready to live in a state where such a heavy duty snow thrower is even available. Should be special-order only. This will be our fifth winter up here. Wonder if we'll ever get a snow blower or if Sean will continue to consider Michael all the snow moving machine we'll ever need...

Patrick Swayze, 1952 - 2009

Patrick Swyaze was quite the leading man - think Dirty Dancing and Ghost. But when I think of him I can't help but think of him dancing with Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live:

I loved the fact that he and his first wife were still married; they were quite the anomaly in Hollywood.

Kind of weird when the folks you grew up watching start dying. Just another reminder to hold things loosely and remember where true hope lies.

My Personal Wardrobe Malfunction

I brought my computer into the family room to write something but I can’t remember what – I’m distracted by Tom Cruise in Top Gun… oh, honey, it’s such a shame he went all crazy Scientologisty on us.

Anyway, it was a wild week. The kids auditioned for a musical (Suessical the Musical – say that five times fast). They have to wait until Friday to find out if they made the cut – what they don’t understand is the waiting is just as hard on the mommy.

I helped at the auditions – filing paperwork, cleaning up. Mundane stuff but stuff that needed to be done and it helped me forget that the kids were nervous and that I was nervous for them.

This drama group is the most organized home school organization I’ve ever witnessed. They have policies and procedures that help it run like a well-oiled machine. One policy I’m thankful for is the dress code. No exposed midriffs, no low-cut blouses, no skin tight anything. And before we left for auditions I checked the girls’ shirts to make sure they fit the dress code.

Too bad I didn’t check mine.

I’d been helping for a few hours when the production manager, a good friend, took me aside to let me know my blouse didn’t meet the dress code. It was a bit too low-cut and if I wanted to wear it again I needed to put a tank top under it.

My first reaction: mortification. I could not believe I had on an offending top. I have never broken a dress code rule in all my life. But after I got over the shock of being told my shirt was showing too much décolletage I cracked up! I’ve wondered what it was like to be scandalous – now I know! (Of course, in a room full of home school moms it doesn’t take much to be scandalous but I’m not letting that take away my moment in the sun.)

The reason the shirt was a bit loose is I lost 15 pounds this summer. Great news, right? Not exactly. The entire 15 pounds came from boobs. No joke. I’ve got lots of places I need to drop 15 pounds; the girls were not one (or two) of them. I barely filled out a B cup as it was thanks to nursing for three big babies for three solid years. (Of course, what I mean by that is I’m so thankful I was able to provide my beautiful children with essential nutrients from my very own body…) I finally lost some weight that had been hanging on since Rebecca’s birth and my body decided it should shed the pounds from my chest? I guess it figured the girls were almost gone, might as well wipe ‘em out completely.

I told my friend I would most certainly correct my wardrobe malfunction, then let her in on why I was laughing about it. She’s also a mother of three and I could tell she totally understood.

I think I should start a club – Big Only Once, Baby or something like that...

Friday Funnies

Looks like I'm not the only one upset about the end of McDonald's $1 Cokes - our very own Chef Cookaloni took this picture in Flint yesterday (there's no spell check on handwritten notes which is why I type everything!):

New from Kathleen Madigan (there's a bad word, so consider yourself warned):

This just made me laugh:

After two weeks of homeschooling I can see the logic in this:

Just because I've continued with Friday Funnies doesn't mean I've forgotten what happened to our country eight years ago today - I'm thankful for laughter and the way it can help heal.

Hope you have a great weekend!

Why, Ronald? Why?!

All summer McDonald’s sold their Coke products for a buck. One dollar bought any size Coke – Sprite, diet Coke, Minute Maid, Fruit Punch – you get the idea. I quite enjoyed this little summer gift Ronald McDonald lavished upon me and my wallet.

But Tuesday, as I was at the all too familiar drive-thru, waiting to give my $1.06 to the friendly lady with the brightest pink colored nails I’ve ever seen, I heard the voice from behind the screen say, “That will be $1.62, first window please.”

Wait just a dadgum minute. What happened to my special summer drink price? A dollar and sixty two cents? For a drink?

“That price was only through Labor Day. Which was yesterday. A dollar sixty two, drive around, please.”

A tear slid down my cheek. Okay, not really but I could have cried because I cannot fathom paying $1.62 for a drink when I could get a two liter at that price.

At $1.06 I could rationalize the purchase: It’s only once a day (except when it’s twice). It’s just a dollar and a few pennies. At that price I can be the fun mom and get drinks for the kids, too. But the extra $.56 just hurts a little too much. That’s an extra $1.68 a day, another 2 liter.

Oh, Ronald, you changed! You made me love you and your little drive-thru with the perky lady with pink daggers for nails. I loved it all, especially my $1.06 diet Coke, cold and fizzy, handed to me as I sat on the throne of my mobile transportation unit shuttling people here and there. One sip of that liquid gold and for a brief but beautiful moment I was taken away to diet Coke heaven.

But no more!

As I drove away from McDonald’s I noticed the Speedway across the street advertised its drinks on big banners all over the station. And the price was less than McDonald’s summer special. Significantly less. The convenience of the drive-thru is gone but for $1.13 savings I think I can manage to actually walk into the store for my liquid fix.

So long, Ronald.

Until next summer.

My empty drink carrier. So, so sad.

New year, new look

Welcome to School Year 2009-2010! In honor of our sixth year homeschooling I’ve updated my little slice of heaven on the ‘puter with pretty colors and graphics. I wish I could say I wrote the html code; I got it from a blogging template site. Funny thing was the code was written correctly but all the text was in Spanish. So where you see the word, “Pictures” now was “Fotos” before Amy showed me how to change the code. Glad we paid for her web design class last spring.

Not everything works like I want it to yet. For instance, the link for “Pictures” does absolutely nothing right now. I hope to have that up and running later this week. And now that Amy knows some code basics I’m hoping she’ll help me with some other goodies like a “Contact Me” button and a few additional things.

We’ve been doing school for two weeks. The first week doesn’t count because that was when Sean and I were in Ann Arbor for his bone marrow donation. My Mom was the kids’ substitute teacher and upon our return from the hospital she was fired for dereliction of duty. Those grandmas don’t know how to say the “N” word –No. The kids wanted to go to the park - yes! The kids wanted to go shopping - yes! The kids wanted to go to McDonald's for a drink - yes! Schoolwork? What schoolwork?! (She has since begged for a second chance, vowing to make the kids do their work; I just want to know how soon she can be here.)

The second week was last week and we did pretty well, but we knew we had two weeks to complete our work since our go-to-school-day is Monday and that meant no school meeting this week due to Labor Day. So we’ve been thinking, “I’ve got another week to complete this! Woo hoo!” Boy is that going to bite us in the backside next week.

The kids have done fairly well; Latin is proving a challenge, as is logic (no comments from the peanut gallery, please). Amy and I have been working defining terms by genus and difference using six specific rules (not feeling so smart now are you, peanut gallery?). It’s challenging our way of defining everything, including the sign on Target that states, “Only seeing eye dogs permitted.” That fails based on rule #3: A definition should not be too broad or too narrow.

Ah, those homeschooled families are just barrels of fun!

Amy plays in her first volleyball game of the season tonight and all three are gearing up for Friday’s auditions for the musical Seusical. Sean’s also going to be a part of the production; he’s one of the rehearsal accompanists. I think he’s secretly hoping that transfers into show week pit director just like he was for his high school’s production of Grease. That was only 20-something years ago.

Year Six of Homeschooling is off to a good start. Check back in a few weeks from now; hope I can say we’re still going strong.

Now I need to figure out how soon that sub can get up here...

Bon appétit!

I’ve been looking forward to seeing Julie & Julia for a while now. It’s based on the book by Julie Powell who set out to cook each recipe in Julia Childs’ Mastering the Art of French Cooking cookbook in 365 days. I heard about Powell’s book when it first came out and knew it had come from her blog; as a novice blogger I was more than a little excited to see how she went from anonymously typing away in her apartment to having the oh-so-adorable Amy Adams portray her on the big screen.

(I loved the scene when she and a co-worker high-fived when Powell had her first non-friend/non-relative comment on her blog. I totally get that!)

The movie was sweet. You could sense how much Powell adored Childs, and I thoroughly enjoyed learning about Julia Childs, played masterfully by Meryl Streep. She certainly seemed like a spitfire. I loved the relationship between Julia and her husband, Paul. They dearly loved each other. Hope that was true…

The movie inspired me to read the Julie/Julia blog, which began in August, 2002 and wrapped up two years later – Powell’s last post was the day after Childs’ death in 2004. I was also curious to find out what, exactly, Childs thought about Powell’s blog. (Spoiler alert) There’s a scene where Powell gets a call from a reporter who’s looking for a response to the news that Childs didn’t appreciate the blog. How in the world could Childs not have liked it? The movie made Powell out to be such a lovely person who respected Julia Childs and looked on her as a mother of sorts. I had to figure that out.

A few moments after my search located the blog I had my answer: Powell is nothing at all like the Amy Adams portrayal on the big screen. She is foul-mouthed, coarse and crude and if I were a famous cooking icon I wouldn’t want my name associated with that kind of talk, either.

Or her whining: “Why is it that I am such a **** nuisance? It’s like wherever I go, this magnetic field of cosmic inconvenience follows me, infecting anyone I come near." "I’m just so **** tired all the time."

Or her infantile political rants. I can barely bring myself to quote one, but I will so you’ll see what I mean: “…(Tom) Delay is the antichrist au currant. I don’t know what we can do, really, short of…assassinating the little bastard. Write the **** and give him a piece of your mind, I guess.”

Childs is portrayed in the movie as left of center; even so I can’t imagine she wanted her carefully crafted professional image to be associated with such drivel.

I tell my kids that books are always better than the movies made from them; in this case, the opposite is true. I’m going to remember the movie and try to forget anything I’ve read on that blog.

And Meryl Streep deserves an Oscar.

Friday Funnies

Never hurts to start with the pale white guy:



Gotta leave the to-do list making to the pros (seriously, how do people miss this kind of stuff?!):




Watching this made me want to try again... but not today!



Have a great holiday weekend!

Cooking with fire (on accident)

So week two of our sixth year homeschooling has been, shall we say, challenging. Our new curriculum is very intense and my two big kids are still unhappy we made the change. Rebecca, however, loves everything about school and cannot wait to start all her subjects and she’s really been ticking off her siblings with her school enthusiasm. To be fair, Michael’s trying to have a good attitude. Amy, well... As we say in the South, bless her heart!

Since I knew the week was a bit rough for the kids and for Sean I thought I’d make a cheesecake. All four were gone Wednesday evening so I planned to have it ready when they returned.

My cheesecake recipe calls for an oven temp of 325◦. You bake it for an hour then turn off the oven and let it sit in the hot oven for another hour. There were no problems as I baked the cake. I pulled it out of the oven and set it on a cooling rack to, well, cool. I then set the oven to 400◦ to cook my dinner.

Apparently 400◦ is just the right temperature to catch oven drippings on fire.

When the oven dinged to tell me it had reached 400◦ I pulled open the door and smoke billowed out. I don’t mean just a little. I mean a lot. A whole lot.

I turned on the exhaust fan, opened the windows and doors and waited for the smoke alarm to go off. As I fanned frantically, practically willing the smoke to go out the kitchen door I began to wonder why the alarms weren’t sounding. Honey, there was a lot of smoke in my kitchen. I could see it floating in the air around our kitchen table and on into the family room, so why wasn’t the smoke detector detecting anything?

So in addition to worrying I was burning the house down (again) I was now concerned that if this happened when I wasn’t around I’d never know we had a fire because the four smoke detectors we have on our first level apparently only alarm if flames the size of California’s wild fires take hold.

Needless to say I did not get my dinner so I had two handfuls of Milk Duds. Okay, three. Fine, four. And a diet Coke. But at least my cheesecake, baked with so much love for my hard-working family turned out well.

Until I dropped it.

It didn’t fall on the floor and I managed to catch most of it. Michael and Amy both said it was still good, if a little discombobulated.

Even though it’s only day nine of our school year I told everyone to sleep in because Mrs. Teacher here intends to. And she most certainly does not intend to use the oven for a while.

I was taking it out of the springform pan and it springed a little more quickly than I anticipated. Half the cake got shaved off by the handle on the oven.

Here's the cake with half of it on top of the other half.

And here's the masterpiece after I tried to smush the broken half back into place. Appetizing, don't you think?

No more metal mouth

Before:

After:

Priceless before the braces, priceless plus five grand after.