The Need for Jam

Did you ever find yourself with an intense desire for jam?  Sounds ridiculous but it happened to me.

We were in Hershey PA this weekend for a LAX tournament. With temperatures approaching 100 degrees  and the idea of high intensity thrill rides making me sick, my wonderful husband agreed to take the kids to the amusement park so a friend and I could explore PA.  Did you know Hershey is right in the heart of Amish country? I had never been and thought it would be a kitchy way to spend an afternoon.

We parked in a little town with the most adorable shops.  All I could think of was my mother mentioning that the Amish make great jam.  I must have jam.  Lots and lots of jam.  We rarely eat jam or jelly regularly but the desire was overwhelming.  The first stop was much like a market with quilts, hand sewn linens and much food stuff... especially jam.  Jam and jelly and preserves.  After about 10 minutes looking at each flavor, I settled on Sweet Cherry and Rhubarb.  Maybe spread on a turkey sandwich?

Next we went into an antique place.  Right outside we saw more jam options.  This time I had to get boysenberry AND blueberry.  I was feeling a purple.  Maybe on toast or waffles?

While walking to the quilt store, I bought fudge and my friend bought whoopie pies.  Yummy.  No jam, do I have enough.  Bought apple butter instead.  Now starting to think I may have a problem.  What do you put apple butter on?  I think my sister likes it so consider it a souvenir.

It's getting late and we have to go to the yarn store.  Right outside I see one more jam stand.  The amish girl is adorable and so sweet.  Of course I will buy just one more.  Zucchini Jam.  It is made with zucchini, sugar, crushed pineapple, jello, hello and lemon juice.  Can the Amish buy jello?  What do you do with zucchini jam?  I cannot even make up a recipe for this one.  Had to have it.  Now I know I am over the edge.

Go into the yarn store to distance myself from the sugary purchasing addiction.  Low and behold, this store is the mecca of hand dyed yarn.  New addiction?  Oh yes.  I need alpaca yarn and wool and specialty colors and patterns and and and....

Maybe I can eat all that jam while I am knitting.  I think I like Amish country!  Maybe I should consider retirement there...

Beach Day Leftovers

Decided I wanted to spend the day at the beach with my nieces and nephews.  Coordinated a date with my sister and sister-in-law, organized a list of who brings what and prayed for a sunny day.  That morning it all seemed to come together.  The weather was beautiful.    I packed everyone's specific favorite sandwich, a case of water and a case of GatorAide.  Made sure we had clean bathing suits and towels, plenty of sun screen and our ipods.  Off we go!

The kids had a wonderful time, playing in the sand and specifically just being with each other.  Plus I had an opportunity to talk to my sisters in peace while my son entertained the other kids.  Pure bliss with a tan.

The beach day was a great idea except for the next day.  I brought back half the sand that is now adorning my patio and driveway.  I had a cooler full of uneaten soggy sandwiches and grass (where did we pick up grass?).  I got off easy though.   My sister called to say her girls have rashes all over their stomaches, chests and arms.  The doctor's first question "Were the kids at the beach or in a hot tub?"  Not a fun thing to bring back from the beach.  A little cortizone cream and time, they will be fine.

At least we have photos!

You Gotta Regatta

My son rows at West Side Rowing over the month of July.  It is a summer camp program and he has been doing it for the past three years.  He loves it.  So mush so that we got him a ERG machine so that he could practice rowing at home...and he actually uses it.  He enjoyed the camp so much that he has decided to try out for the crew team at Nichols.  I think he has an awesome shot at making it.

Last Thursday he had his regatta and his boat came in first.  I have been praising this sport because I feel it is less dangerous.  Lacrosse players get beat up, football players get crunched, snowboarders break bones and my son has even come home from squash with some black and blue marks.  His only injury from rowing has been sore muscles.  This regatta however sowed that crew like all sports can still be dangerous. The first boat my son's boat raced was significantly behind them.  As my sons boat's crossed the finish line, one of the motor boats rammed into the opposed craft and knocked the bow rower into the canal.  She was quickly retrieved and ok.  The crowd was amazed as was I.  It just goes to show you that all sports have risks and all athletes need to be prepared.

Even with this accident, I am a fan.  If you have not been exposed to crew, let me recommend it.  It is a high endurance, high strength sport.  A team sport with no physical confrontation of the team members.  They must all work in synchronicity and it  is a beautiful thing to watch.

Weekend Essentials

Forgot to pack for the weekend - I know seems like something I would remember to do, right?  Well I had about 5 minutes to pack for three days and two nights.  Here are the essentials:

Toothbrush
deodorant
hair brush
2 pair shorts/2 shirts
undies
pjs
Book/glasses
camera

Was able to pack in record time.  I think I am becoming a pro at this.

Purpose of a Confirmation Number

Can someone tell me the purpose of a confirmation number?  I had always thought it was the consumer's security or proof that a reservation had been made.  While I am at it, maybe someone could also explain to me the purpose of a reservation.  I had assume a reservation meant you reserved an item, which meant it would be available to you at a certain time and price.  Based on this week's events and the TERRIBLE customer service of BUDGET Rental, I have been wrong in my assumptions and thoughts.

Let me start with our friends at Hilton Hotels last week Friday.  We had booked a room in April at a Hilton Hotel near Albany.  The hotel was recommended by the tournament we were attending.  We went online, left all our information including credit card, and received our confirmation number.  Since that booking we have received weekly marketing emails from the Hilton.  Our arrival date was confirmed as Friday, July 16th and we were informed that we could not check in prior to 3pm.  Also, if we cancelled prior to 24 hours, our credit card would be billed for the entire amount.  Thursday, July 15th we received an email confirming our room and stressing the cancellation policy.

We arrive at the Hilton at 5:30pm on Friday (our confirmed arrival date) and we are informed that they do not have a room for us.  Well there must be a mistake because we made reservations, have a confirmation number and even received a reminder confirmation less than 25 hours ago from your company.  The manager apologies, states she realizes we had a room booked but they do not have a room.  So she will be sending us to the Holiday Inn Express.  But we have the damn confirmation number!

After explaining to her, that my son's team is staying at this hotel and that we just drove 5 hours and that we have dinner reservations with friends in 1 hour, she said not to worry the Holiday Inn is fine.  We tried to be adult about it.  She said the HIlton would pick up the tab for our room at the Holiday Inn and sent us away with a form letter.  Apparently this happens all the time.

I can understand a mistake and at least the hotel tried to compensate us, but why were we the ones who were booted out to stay at an inferior hotel?  We chalked it up to poor hotel management and forgot about it.

This Friday we were once again struck with the irrelevance of the reservation and confirmation number.  We are driving with friends to Hershey PA for another lax tournament and felt out SRX was not big enough.  Tuesday we visited BUDGET car rental and discussed options with the manager there.  That afternoon we went home and reserved a Ford Explorer for Friday pick up by 11 am.  Once again we gave all information, including credit card and received our all holy confirmation number.  Thursday we received our reminder email with the cancelation policy reiterated.  If we did not pick up the car by 11, our card would be charged and we would lose the reservation.

Friday at 10 am we went to the beastly BUDGET and were told they did not have our vehicle AND four other people were waiting for one ahead of us.  But we have a reservation and a confirmation number.  The woman actually said "Well what do you want me to do?  We don't have the vehicle?"  Not  even an apology!  So what are we to do?  We need to leave in an hour and we have no vehicle.  My husband calls corporate bullshitters at Budget to find the exact same response.  No customer service what so ever and no compensation for our nightmare.  Not even a nice apology.  Simply cocky, arrogant sarcasm.

We are boycotting BUDGET and ask you to do the same.  I have no recourse as a customer, except to stop using them.  I plan on writing a poor review to EVERY online entity available to me as well as working on a letter to the editor.   It will be time consuming but it will at least be something I can do.

So someone please help me ... what is the purpose of the reservation and the confirmation number?

Inception

The boys and I went to see the movie Inception last night.  Although I am not a fan of Leonardo DiCaprio, I loved this movie.  The idea was innovative, the imagery was spectacular, and the story was thrilling.  Imagine being able to enter someone's dreams and architect the setting?

Stop reading and go see this cinematic jewel!

Cause of Insanity: Fly

Yesterday evening I was pretty sure that the title of this blog was what my medical records were going to say if I was unable to kill the persistent demon flying around my study.  For three days I have heard a constant buzzing around my head whenever I sat at my desk, adjusted the stereo, looked for a book or worked on my computer.  Frankly it was making me crazy.

The disgusting insect was channelling some Charles Manson energy, as was evident by his mind games.  He would not leave the study.  So I would forget about him when I left that room.  Forget until I sat down to work on the computer.  Then he would give me just enough time to really get into what I was doing before he started circling my head.   Or I would chase him around the windows for an hour only to have him disappear.  Where did he go?  I would leave the room only to enter after a couple hours and have the whole ordeal start again.

I am also pretty sure he had a cloaking device because I could hear him even though I could not see him.

It was man (woman) against beast (insect) and I was losing.  Of course he would not appear or make a sound when I brought my husband or son into the room.  No he was too smart for that.  The irritation was just for me.

Today the stars were aligned and the better man won.  He stopped on the window and I grabbed my son's wallet from the desk.   The rest is Darwinian history.  Fly: 0 Bonnie: 1.

Congratulations on Your Horrible Day

I have been thinking about celebrations.  How whenever something good happens, your friends and family ask how you plan on celebrating or everyone gets together to celebrate.  That is all well and good however, I think that is when you least need a party.  We should change the norm to have a get together or party when you are feeling low.

For example, you just lost your job.  Now would be a good time for your friends to get together and take you out.  First you are probably worrying about money so it would be nice if someone else paid.  Plus they can cheer you up.  Or when you lost the game, failed the test, missed the opportunity.  Isn;t this when you need a couple cocktails and laughs?

When good things happen I am already pretty happy and the win is the best celebration of all.

I'll work on this and let you know if it is successful.  If not, I will need a party :-)

New OnLine Obsession

As is evident by the mere existence of this blog, I have delusions of writing grandeur.  Some people fantasize about being a movie star or living like a king; I fantasize about book interviews.  Hey, it could happen!

I recently found a toy to add to my dream state.  It is called "I WRITE LIKE".  You submit some text, click the analyze button and viola you now know whose writing style you follow.  Could not be easier.  I pick out a few pieces and cross my fingers that my work will resemble the greatest, significant writers the world has ever known.  I don't want a David Sedaris (sorry sir) but I would love a David Eggers.  Dare I dream of real classics - Mary Shelly, John Updike, Jack London, Ernest Hemingway, Shakespeare.  Hey again it could happen!

I submitted two flash fiction stories to be analyzed.  These are the writing samples I am most proud of and encouraged by.  One fiction claimed I write like Raymond Chandler.  Really? He is one of the greatest detective novelist but I can't really see it. Next...Douglas Adams.  Who the hell is that?  Fortunately the marketing geniuses at Amazon allow me to immediately click to all of my fellow writer's books for ease of purchase.  Dougie boy is the author of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  I thought this book was ridiculous and the movie competes with Lord of the Rings for my longest and most painful cinematic experience.  I am in trouble.

New approach, I will submit some blog entries.   Now we have something and I am feeling a little better as David Foster Wallace pops up. Granted I have never read one of his books but coincidentally Infinite Jest is on my TO READ NEXT list. All three blog samples resulted in David Foster Wallace. So this must really work right?  It is consistent.  Now I have to read him.

I should have stopped there, but now I had to press my luck.  One more blog entry.  Just when I was starting to buy it, I was analyzed with Margaret Atwood.  I read many of her books and love her.  The problem is the blog I submitted is NOTHING like her, I am sorry to say.

Either way, I am loving this.  This little exercise took about 2 hours of my time and will be a regular game for me.  What a brilliant concept.  It grabs you, so return visits to the site are guaranteed.  The site is  getting a targeted audience so advertisers should be thrilled.  Amazon immediately allows you to purchase a book by your alter ego writer.  Try it - you will be hooked.

The Most Annoying Fan

I really enjoy going to my son's lacrosse games. Granted there is a level of anxiety; worrying about how he will perform, praying that he won't get hurt, hoping that he has fun.  But even with that anxiety it is always wonderful to be involved in your baby's activities and to see him "performing".  It is also a nice time to interact with some of the other player's parents.  Usually.

That was not the case at a recent game where I met one of the most obnoxious men.  To be fair, I really don't know him outside of this particular situation, that of father of a lacrosse parent, so maybe he is a wonderful professional and human being off the field.  I had just met him so of course I was pleasant and full of small talk:  how many kids do you  have?  what other sports are they into? do your boys like playing lacrosse, blah blah blah.  Then the game starts.

Initially he is yelling plays at the team.  Not so crazy we all yell words of encouragement.  But it doesn't stop there.  He then yells at the parents yelling at the team.  Letting these parents know that the encouragement they are offering is wrong.  He moves to individual critiques of the players.  That one doesn't pass enough, that one is slow, that one couldn't make the net if he was on top of it.  My son was not playing his best.  This guy is lucky that he said nothing, or he would have had a full cup of Tim Horton's black poured over his arrogant head.

I wanted to say something.  As I am thinking of a witty remark or put down, he yells to one of the players and proceeds to explain what that particular kid is doing wrong.  I thought for sure this teenager would throw a ball at his head.  Instead, the player said "Thank you sir".  How PERFECT!  I wanted to hug that kid.  You knew he was irritated, I mean really how could you not be?  But he showed this strange dad respect and frankly shut him up.  I could not have possibly been more adult or eloquent than those simple words.  Particularly because mine comments would have included various objects and his anatomy.

This was the first game this team lost all season, so maybe the Mr. KnowItAll was accurate in his suggestions.  But it doesn't matter.  The delivery sucked.

If you really want to coach join the coaching staff otherwise try to control yourself.  Team sports are supposed to teach more than just competition and the art of winning.  They should teach sportsmanship and life lessons.  Plus shouldn't it be fun for players and fans?

Twins with Singular Perspectives

I am a twin.  My sister and I are complimentary but very different in so many ways including our political views, physical appearances, families and vacations. She has always been the nice one; the sweet one; the one who befriended the down trodden and odd.  I have always been the bitchy one.

Today is our birthday and another area where we differ.  You see Annie loves her birthday, whereas I hate any reminder that I am speeding toward my death.  I will not go gently into that dark night.  We always try to talk on our birthdays.  She lives in Chicago and it is difficult for us to get together to celebrate so at least we chat on our day.  Last year was no different.  I can't remember who called whom but I can clearly remember her voice.

She was elated.  Apparently her staff decorated her office and there were flowers, balloons and a cake.  The planned evening celebration included a pleasantly coiffed family and an expensive restaurant.  She reminisced about past celebrations and how fun it is to have everyone thinking of you.

My response was a little different.  I mentioned the aches and pains, the cynicism, the bleak future dotted with doctor visits, loss of senses and of course complete removal from participation in any marketing demographic outside of adult diapers and gravestones.  I explained my boys try to cheer me up but I prefer to wallow in self pity.

How can two people who shared a womb have such different outlooks.  All I can think is that I was first and therefore had to pave the path.  Maybe my view has always been more frightening.

Happy Birthday my optimistic twin.  Your excitement and enthusiasm for the day pokes a little sunshine into my dark mood.

A Customer Service Lesson

My home phone has been down for three days.  We have not had any issues with the phone until, surprisingly enough, the phone company came to repair the neighbor's problem.  Do you see a potential connection?

The first day I just dealt with it.  The second day I called Verizon.  You should know I am switching my phone service so this is not a feel good customer service story.  After traversing the automated voice commands, which included gathering all of my "essential" information, I waited on hold for 15 minutes to talk to a customer service rep.  The first question was for my name and phone number.  I just provided all that information to your automated response system.  The csr's comment was that she did not have any of my information on her screen.  Good thing I had to talk to the automated voice for the past 10 minutes.  Moving right along, I proceed to answer about 100 more questions and finally am allowed to explain the problem. I have no dial tone and have not for two days.  "Oh I cannot help you with that, I will need to transfer you to repairs, but first I would like to tell you about a special offer we are conducting to switch your  internet and cable service".

Are you kidding me?  The csr felt that I was primed for a sales pitch.  Let's see why wouldn't I want to buy more services from you?  I have been on the phone for 1/2 hour and have gotten nowhere.  I have repeated the same information to an automated service as well as a person and will have to repeat it again most likely to the repair department.  Most importantly, I have no phone service so one of your products does not work.  How does this make me a prime sales prospect?

Kindly, I explain the error in her judgement and make it clear that now is not the time to sell me.

Off to repairs.  Once again I answer the same questions and explain the problem. This lovely woman apologizes for my inconvenience and informs me she is checking the line now.  After I few seconds, she tells me that the line is fine.  Is there anything else she can do for me?  WHAT? You haven't done anything for me. The line is not fine or I wouldn't be calling you!  So she gives me the technical catch all and tells me to turn off all the phones, unplug them and let it rest for awhile.

It's been an  hour on my cell phone and I am late for another appointment, so I say fine and hang up.  Unplug everything and leave the house.  Guess what?  That did not fix the problem.

Now the third day, I call again.  In speaking with the automated voice I find they have my record of my problem call and would be happy to schedule an appointment for me automatically.  Twenty minutes with the automated voice, I think I am moving forward and then I am transferred to a csr who asks me the SAME DAMN questions I started with.

By now my cell phone is losing power and my head is ready to explode.  No one can come out to fix the problem for 4 days and by the way it will cost $91 for the tech visit. (Why $91, they couldn't round up?) What are my options?  I make the appointment.

Oh I know my options.  Dump Verizon.  I immediately call Time Warner Cable.  Speak with one very bright and articulate sales guy, who will have my new service installed within the week and this will bring my monthly bill down by almost $60.

We have choices.  Sure Verizon will not go out of business because I cancel my phone service (although I secretly hope they crumbling like a house of cards).  But I feel better .

Pressure Regarding the Pressure Cooker

My family recently bought me a pressure cooker.  Knowing that I enjoy cooking but am constantly complaining about not having enough time, they ever so thoughtfully found and purchased this incredible machine.

I had no idea what it was or how it worked.  Apparently I am the only one still cooking in the middle ages, because everyone else I tell about this gift raves about how their mom used one, or how they love their cooker or how they heard the model I just received is incredible.  Who knew?

Super excited about my new gift, I opened the box.  Of course it is from Williams-Sonoma (the cult continues) and I follow the directions to the letter.  The whole time I am doing this I am arguing with my husband about the differences between a crock pot and a pressure cooker.  He is not a fan of either; it's his fear of fire, specifically me burning down the house.  He has reason for this fear, but that's another story.

Every page in the book has some sort of warning.  Do not touch!  Removing with cause serious burning! Pressure may create explosion!  All i can picture is my photo in the Buffalo News with a pressure cooker lid lodged in my burnt profile while my family sits at ECMC eating the delicious veal shank with white beans I made JUST prior to the explosion.  Also starting to think maybe my thoughtful family is trying to kill me.   These warnings are pretty scary.  Do I really need to risk my life for that quick pot roast?

After the initial fears and death fantasies subside, I plan my first meal.  The easiest thing looked like potatoes, carrots and broccoli with a ham steak.  Note I don't like ham.  I never make, except for slicing it for sandwiches around Easter time.  I don't think the boys like it either.  But it looks easy and I really really want to try my new toy.

It only took 5 minutes to cook.  Keep in mind it takes about 15 minutes to build up pressure, but still it is amazing.  The cooker also moves to a warm setting automatically in case your hard working spouse is not home when he is expected. No idea if the ham was good because as I said I do not like ham.  In hindsight, I should have tried something I liked.  Talk about no confidence.

Now I want to make more.  The next dish I tried is red beans and rice.  This came out terrific and only took 30 minutes. I am cooking up a storm.  Will plan on boeuf bouruignonne, north beach cioppino and maybe even a ginger creme brulee as the week continues.

I no longer think my family was trying to kill me.  Actually they are pretty brilliant because the boys and I will never eat all this food and they know I will drop off leftovers.  Bon Appetit!

Glutes

I am waiting to check out at Wegman's yesterday and couldn't help noticing a magazine called "Glutes".  An entire magazine devoted to "your best butt ever".  How could I refrain from dropping $5.99 on this gem?

Unpack the car, pour myself some diet ice tea and open the magazine.  The table of Contents is encouraging.  Articles on how to eat to lift your bottom, what to wear to make it round and tons of exercises that only take a few minutes a day to give you the perfectly sculpted tush.  I can zap butt fat and look sexy from behind with only 16 minute workouts and in only 7 weeks time frame.  I can do this.  Already I feel my ass tightening.

Problem one. These models are ripped.  I mean like body builders.  The first few ads could not possibly be real women.  And by the way the ads are not for low fat cheese they are for things like Myofusion and Hydroxycut Max - nutritional supplements to build muscle.  Uh oh.

Problem two.   I page to the first set of 5 exercises.  A new (at least new to me) technique called plyometrics.  This will increase my caloric burn and keep my metabolism revving all day.  Cannot be easy.  The point is to jump - yes I said jump - from one position to the next.  Let me explain.  Start in a lunge position, jump and land with the opposite leg in front.  Does this sound complicated to you?  Try it, I knocked down a lamp and just about broke my knee cap.  That was the first and what appeared to be the easiest exercise.

Now I am thinking maybe I could just get this hot ass by eating right.  Upon further reading, I found problem three.  This eating plan is to build muscle not to lose weight.  Apparently it doesn't matter how tight you backside is if it is carrying an extra 10 pounds it will still look flabby.

Three strikes you're out.  The Glute magazine is now adorning my magazine rack and my "sexy" ass is sitting on the coach with a bag of chips.

Salsa Sunday

Looking for something different to do Sunday, I dragged my son to the opening concert on the steps of the Albright Knox Art Gallery.   It took a little coercion to pull him from C.O.D. on the XBOX, but the allure of an Elmwood Taco & Sub (ETS) lunch and the promise to leave him to his video games for the rest of the night seemed to do the trick.

We grabbed our backpacks, jumped on our bikes and headed out.  It's a short ride to the gallery lawn and even with the stop at ETS we arrived about 10 minutes before the band started.  The shady areas of the lawn were already crowded but we found a nice spot near the cube sculpture and settled in.  Some people had their lawn chairs and newspapers while other more romantic couples sipped wine lounging on their blankets.  It was sunny and hot but the crowd didn't seem to mind.

The MC kicked it off with a thank you to the sponsoring Buffalo News and the music began.  The latin sounds came from the band La Krema highlighted by an energetic and melodic singer equipped with plaid fedora and sunglasses.  The 4 piece horn section and  fast-as-lightening percussionist made the gallery rock.

A few couples ventured to the "dance floor" to show their latin rhythms.  The band leader started a salsa and called out his dancers.  Two couples in red and white whose hips kept up with their feet to a non-stop beat.  They were fantastic and I worked p a sweat just watching them.  I asked my son if he wanted to try a salsa with me.  I got that look.  Although he was adamant about leaving about an hour, he did spend some time translating the spanish lyrics for me.  I started questioning his language skills when one song seemed to focus on thirst and an uncle.  Ah that tuition is so worth it.

I kept my promise and we left after an hour or so.  Too soon for me.  This was a delightful way to spend a Sunday afternoon and a real gem for the Elmwood Village.  I highly recommend it!

The Salsa Dancers.

Kid is ready to go.

Zombie Walk

Living near Elmwood, you learn quickly that the cast of characters walking the street at any time of the day or night can be quite eclectic as well as scary.  This Saturday it was a little more obvious.

Minding my own business driving near West Ferry when I see a young man with blood dripping from the back of his head and down his shirt and pants.  He looked like he was staggering and the other pedestrians didn't seem to care.  Before I had time to pull off to see if I could help him, about 2 dozen more with a much more gruesome appearance, strolled past Cleveland.  No placards or signs so it couldn't be a protest, way to early for Halloween and the kids dressed and accompanying their parents meant this was not a drunken mob.  When I asked someone on the street, I was informed it it was the Fourth Annual Zombie Walk.

Talk about creativity.  What an idea.  Not really sure why but it seemed that the crowds were up for a party.  The event included costume contests, music videos creation, even food bank donations and an evening pub crawl.  People were really into it and I have to say I was pretty entertained.

Later that night I was fortunate enough to sit next to the Winner in Crowd Pleaser Category and his trophy.  His fellow zombie is a make up artist by trade. The photos do not do them  justice.

The Cult of WIlliams-Sonoma

It started simply enough, a quick peek at a catalogue or a browse through the store.  I didn't think I had a problem.  But I now realize I have drunk the Kool-Aid and am a full fledged member of the cult of Williams-Sonoma.

How it happened I do not know.  Sure I needed that dutch oven and let's face it the table lines matched perfectly with my dinnerware.  That one of a kind platter I received as a gift needed a matching bowl. I quickly moved from cooking accessories that seemed essential to keep my family fed, to tableware that could not be found anywhere else to the train heading for crazy town.

I realized I had a problem when the need to create ebelskivers became overwhelming.  No kidding I was obsessed.  In case you don't realize (obviously not a member of this cult) ebelskivers are stuffed pancakes.  How did I survive without these? How could I have raised a child without ever making him ebelskivers?  Where did I go wrong?

So I had to buy the pan, which would be useless without the turning sticks (chopsticks but  400% more $).  Well the mix would make them perfect and of course I need a variety so I might as well get the original and chocolate.  That will get boring, so throw in the cookbook.  Looks like there is a recipe for a lemon filled pancake so I better also order the lemon curd and powder sugar shaking utensil. On and on it went.  I am pretty sure I could have made an extra mortgage payment for the amount I spent on the cult that day.  Note that I did have a pretty solid excuse....I was going to throw a party to celebrate my new found ebelskivers, thrilling my deprived family.

I tried to kick it.  Throwing out the magazine as soon as it came in the mail.  Walking upstairs at the Galleria to ensure I never passed the store.  But I couldn't escape the call.  I recently had a bad relapse which included a vanilla bundt cake mix, a $20 spatula and ice cream toppings which will of course necessitate the purchase of an ice cream maker next week (couldn't carry it that day).

This is call for help.  A need for deprogramming.  Stop me before I can no longer move in my cult created kitchen.

Happy Birthday Daddy

I am fortunate enough to say I had a great childhood and still participate in a very loving family.  That statement could not be made were it not for the efforts, love and unyielding support of my father.  There is no way I could convey the love and respect I feel for my dad in a few paragraphs.  From the time I can remember he has always been there - I mean really there - for me.

As a little girl, he would play ridiculous games with me and my siblings in the pool, creating nicknames and reason after reason for laughing.  He was the one who told me how beautiful I looked in a dress and insisted we buy it without ever mentioning the price tag.  It was my dad, who interrogated my boyfriends to ensure they showed me the respect I deserved.  And it was my dad who made me know that I could go out and try anything without fear of failure because I was always welcome back home.

As an adult we discussed current topics, although his social security views were not as progressive as mine, he taught me how to stand up for myself and present my opinions intelligently and respectfully.  When it was time for me to marry, he completely accepted my husband as his son and became the father-in-law any man would dream of.   His love for my mother and commitment to his marriage is a beautiful example for my husband and me.  As a grandfather, he is jaja to my son.  Recreating the laughter of my childhood for my son and his cousins.

On this day, he doesn't have the energy he had when he was my age and unfortunately I found out he is not an all knowing god.  But he is perfect to me and I love him very much.  I look forward to spending many more years with him.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Is this a Sign

I am not sure if I believe in signs or random events that are sent from some higher power to motivate you to some course of action.  But sometimes it seems like nature is trying to tell me something.

As I was stuck at a light on Elmwood near the Art Gallery, I saw something in the opposite lane outside my window.  On focusing, I noticed a small sparrow in the middle of the road.  It's mouth was open and it looked as if it could not move.  His little leg seemed wrong. As I am trying to figure it out, a bus came and ran directly over it.  Shocked, it was not touched by a tire.  Until of course a pick up came and completely smashed the bird.  At that point the light had turned and I was being ever so gently encouraged to move by a symphony of car horns.

I am not an animal person, but this was horrific.  How was I in just the right place and time to experience it?  Shouldn't I have done something?  If I threw the car in park and walked into opposing traffic to pick up a bird, would I have caused an even worse accident?  How would I have picked it up and what would I have done to help it?  Maybe I should just let Darwin's laws operate as they will.

Somehow I think this is a sign, but I am not sure the meaning.  It could be nature telling me to act - to do something - or be killed.  Hmmm ...  or maybe it's just a sign like the bumps and scratches on my car telling me to pay attention to traffic while I am driving, instead of contemplating nature.

Not Just Cool, Spectacular

My son thinks I am "uncool".  He thinks my husband is "cool" but I am apparently the old mom who just doesn't get it.  It shouldn't bother me at all except that I have been forgetting what I used to be like.  With an upcoming birthday and a complete confusion on the future, I have been feeling old and uncool.  Until this weekend.

We had a visit from a friend we have not seen in about 14 years.  Back when my husband was a resident in Detroit, our closest friends were T and D.  We dealt with the the trials of the hospital, the ugliness of Detroit, as well as laughed at the characters, enjoyed the concerts and even vacationed in San Francisco together.  After 5 years we all went our separate ways and unfortunately just didn't keep in touch.

It was terrific seeing T.  We spent the entire day, night and early morning drinking, laughing, reminiscing.  He helped me remember that I used to be full of energy, busy, fun.  At one point he told our son that we were totally cool, back then and now (ah that was without a prompt).  My son rebuked.  But no T. persisted.  Not only is your mom cool, she is spectacular.  Did you hear that blog-o-sphere?  I am SPECTACULAR.

Most likely that comment did not change my son's way of thinking, and T. did have several cocktails by then,  but it renewed and revitalized me.   Why can't I be just as entertaining and energetic and interesting as I was?  Why not refrain from the nervousness, the fear and the complaining?  It's a new day and I am feeling good.

I miss our old friends and look forward to seeing them again soon.

Salvage Mission

Early in the spring I decided to get prescription sunglasses.  My eyes are certainly not what they used to be and the ability to actually see while wearing sunglasses was thrilling.  Found great Ray Ban frames, waited 2 weeks and have been wearing them ever since.

This weekend we were on the boat and as I leaned over to tie the rope while we were docking, I knocked the sunglasses off my face.  I dove to get them, which left  the boat sailing directly into the dock.  I could not get them in time and down they sank.  We spent the next 45 minutes trying poking the water, staring into the darkness and getting depressed.  Even had the help of a neighboring boater and his net.  But the water was not cooperative.  Maybe it would be clearer in the morning.

So the next morning at 6:30 am we drive out to the dock to start our salvage mission.  Not sure if I should say "our mission" as it was just him.  I was disheartened when we get to the boat and see that the water is not much clearer.  It is about 4 feet high, with 3 1/2 foot seaweed and a hideous oil smell. I am already afraid that he will catch something simply by entering the water.

But my wonderful husband suits up in his scuba suit, shoes, gloves, mask and snorkel and enters the water.  As his feet hit the sinking ground, he is obviously grossed out.  But he persists.  Diving down and pulling up zebra muscles and rocks.  It seems hopeless as he circles the dock posts.  He vows one more underwater try.  Low and behold he returns with my sunglasses!  They were under the muck and absolutely filthy.

The resolute determination, the persistence and the non-stop effort by my hubby made it happen.  Sounds like a little thing to be so excited about.  They are just sunglasses after all.  But its more.  It's his effort and our little adventure to salvage the Grand Island seas.

Next day , he bought me croakies to prevent future slippage.

4th of July Bunting

I am not a big fan of holiday decorations.  Excluding that weekend in November when I deluge my rooms with green and red trinkets, I do not embellish the house to celebrate any other calendar day. It's not that I can't understand the purpose.  When my son was small every real and make believe event was greeted with some obnoxious paper cutout for the window, or figurine for the tables.  Halloween was his favorite which meant spider webs, fake blood, monsters and mind numbing eerie music.

Lately, I am becoming more annoyed by the tacky decorations than ever before.  The big holidays I can almost deal with, mocking the giant snow globes and easter bunnies.  But the others are just too offensive to my sense of sight.  For some reason the Fourth of July decorations annoy me most.  Exactly how does a string of boating flags in stars and strips help you celebrate independence?  What is it about red, white and blue bunting that makes us feel patriotic?

I consider myself somewhat patriotic.  Grateful and happy to be living in the USA although not always thrilled with our political decisions internationally or domestically.  Does that mean that I have to line up miniature flags on my lawn or purchase one of those giant Uncle Sam blow ups?

Instead of the damn bunting, why not show our patriotism by using a little less gas this weekend?  Or maybe by reading a book on an historical event to help understand the toils experienced here.  Consider a visit to a landmark or location that would evoke an appreciation for our land. 

Yes its easier to fire up the grill and bite into some flag inspired dessert. And yes I will probably be doing much of the same.  But can we at least refrain from hanging the hideous bunting?

Spies Among Us

You have seen a ton of movies, sit coms and TV miniseries with the undercover spy plot.  But how often do you see that drama played out in the NY TIMES?  Apparently there is a ring of Russian spies living as parents in New York.

Frankly I am not all that surprised about spies.  Seems a little antiquated but I am sure this type of thing  happens between governments.  What shocks me is that these parents have been able to keep up a double life, secret from there children, for more than a decade.  Hiding birthday presents i can handle.  I can even manage the afternoon nap for mommy and daddy.  But that's as undercover as it gets.

How do you manage the schedule? I would assume spies have to monitor suspect activities and write status reports on a regular basis.  When does that happen?  Unless these "parents" have some specialized technology to add hours to the days, I do not see it possible.

With all the "hats' we were, spy would throw me over the edge.  You have to be the disciplinarian mom, the martha stewart baking mom, the encouraging mom, the cool mom, the adoring mom, the worried about college mom, the don't drink mom...the list goes on and on.  How do you manage the secret agent mom?

Instead of putting these parents in prison, I say we expose them to intense interviews with PhD's and self help authors.  Maybe we can learn something, creating the New Dr. Spock book.

Reading the Classics

I have always been a fairly avid reader and take my choice of books somewhat seriously.  The need to finish any book I start is obsessive and I have been working through a kind of 12 step program to eliminate this obsession.  It's not working very well, so it's kind of important that I choose good books.  Otherwise they pile up on my night stand half read, waiting to be finished or tossed.

Recently, I have had the desire to read classics I missed in my high school and college years. I have no interest in rereading books, although I am sure I would have a very different perspective than I did when I read say "The Fountainhead".  I picked up "Sea Wolf" by Jack London.  Truth be told, my son is reading it and liking it so I thought I would give it a try.

How did I miss this book?  It is fantastic.  The pace, the vocabulary, and especially the dialogue is compelling and probably why it is a classic. I would never have picked it by reading the back cover or knowing the author.  Seems the interaction between a sea captain and his rescued gentleman, would not interest me.  I was wrong.  Not only is this book a thought provoking mechanism, it is leading me to pick up philosophy reviews.

I think all book genres have their purposes; to entertain, educate, or enlighten.  I enjoy the mind candy once in a awhile but completely understand why we all, including our kids, should also be reading certain books.  They can change your thought process and lead you to search out new ideas.  Frankly to allow you to just think.  It's a shame this realization is just hitting me midlife.   

 

Blooming

Just took a quick walk through my garden.  Not bad, eh?

First pink flower on the lily pads in the Koi Pond (by the way all four fish survived the winter)

Geraniums and ferns in the window boxes

    Deep red day lilies in the front yard

                                                  Pink Calla lilies in the front yard

Passion flowers growing up the hot tub