Thursday, June 30, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 30, 2011
Seventy-five years ago today, on June 30, 1936, the novel Gone With The Wind was first published. Gone With The Wind is my favorite book of all time. It is also my favorite movie of all time. While the movie is a good adaptation of the book, there are parts of the book that are vastly different from the movie.
I was about 12 when I saw the movie for the first time. My friend Erin was already a huge Gone With The Wind fan, and after hearing her talk about it so much, Mom agreed I was old enough to see the movie. I fell in love instantly with the movie. I went to the town library the next day and checked out the book. I went home and started devouring the book. And I was shocked to learn that in the book, Scarlett has children with each of her three husbands. In the movie, she only has Bonnie Blue, and the baby that she miscarries when she falls down the stairs.
After that first time, I have read the book at least once a year, and I have watched the movie at least as frequently. I know it by heart now, but it is no less captivating than it was 23 years ago when I first heard of Mammy, Scarlett, Tara and Twelve Oaks. I like the development as Scarlett as a character- from this seemingly simple minded boy crazy girl to an independent, albeit cold-hearted, business woman. I never understood how she could prefer Ashley to Rhett, but then I've always gone a little weak in the knees for tall, dark, and handsome.
The best way to commemorate this great book is to of course, read it! Or maybe watch the movie. But if you don't have that kind of time today, perhaps you can do it tomorrow. "After all, tomorrow is another day!"
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 29, 2011
June 29 is 'Camera Day'. It seems like cameras have long been a part of my life. As a baby, I was posed in front of them. Mom had our pictures taken professionally every six months. The photographer had taken pictures of mom and her sister, and had done Mom & Dad's wedding pictures. Every week (or maybe it was every month) they had a 'Beautiful Baby' section in a local paper. The baby chosen had his or her picture in the paper, and in the front window of the studio. I was the Beautiful Baby several times, as was my sister.
When I was a precocious pre-schooler, my Aunt says I used to tell her 'go get your camera, I'm going to do something cute'. I was always hamming it up in pictures, until I was about ten. Then I went from being the photographee to the photographer.
My first camera was a 110. The film was a cartridge, which looked like a bar with a period on each end. The film started in one end, and each time you took a picture, you wound the film forward. At the end of the roll, the film would be in the other 'period'. Then you took it out and sent it off for processing. It was exciting when we went to the Corner Store and Lionel told us our pictures were in! Sometimes it took a couple of weeks or a month to get the film back, and many times you forgot what pictures you had taken. You could relive the wonderful things all over again. Of course, there were some times when you'd get your pictures back and find out the roll had been double exposed, or that picture of a lifetime of a famous person was too dark, or worse yet, the person was missing their head. Going through the pictures was like opening a gift- you weren't sure what you would get!
Sometime in my early teens, I decided I didn't want to wait the few weeks to get my pictures back, so I took some of my babysitting money and bought myself a Polaroid. I loved watching the picture develop in a matter of minutes. I could see almost instantly if the picture had turned out ok, and in most cases could recreate the picture if I needed to. But the Polaroid was kind of big to carry around, and the film was expensive.
In 1992, my sister and I went with our school on a trip to Spain and France. For the previous Christmas, mom bought us a very expensive, top of the line 35mm camera. In her motherly wisdom, knowing that she was buying the camera for two teenagers, she bought the extra warranty, which covered replacement if it was lost. She was so wise! We took the camera to Florida with us in February, to 'practice'. We had the camera when we left NY, and when we got to Florida it was gone. I know we had it by our feet in the car, in case we found anything neat on the way down. We stopped at a rest stop in the middle of the night in one of the Carolinas, and we handed Dad our trash (from snacks and drinks). I suspect the camera mistakenly got picked up with it, and since it was dark, we never realized it. Mom went back to the store, and the camera was replaced at no charge. We used it in Europe. When we got home we gave Dad the film to take to the store, so that we could get it back as soon as possible. When the pictures came back, Mom said she could tell which daughter had the camera at which time. There were rolls of film of cute European boys (my sister) and rolls of film of majestic mountains (me).
I upgraded to a digital camera about 3 years ago. I have to say, as exciting as it was to go through the developed pictures, I prefer the instant results I get with the digital camera. I like checking the screen and deciding whether or not the picture is a keeper. I find myself taking more pictures of ordinary things: my yard, weather scenes, things that interest me. The camera is no longer just for vacations. Vacations still provide a great opportunity to take pictures- but I get so caught up taking the pictures I often forget to put myself in the pictures!
I couldn't find a reason as to why today is camera day. Maybe we don't need a reason! Just grab your camera and see what you can find in the world around you.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 28, 2011
June 28 is 'Paul Bunyan Day'. Paul Bunyan is a mythical character. He is a lumberjack, who is also a giant. He roams around with his big blue ox, Babe. At least, that is according to the legend.
I heard stories about Paul Bunyan and Babe as a child. Paul Bunyan was not only a giant, but he was a terrific lumberjack. We heard stories how his ax cleared the forests in some states. He scooped out the Great Lakes trying to get water for Babe. And according to the legends, the 10,000 lakes in Minnesota were created when Paul and Babe stumbled around in a snowstorm. It has, however, been a while since I've heard the stories. So I did a little research today, and found that some people believe the myth of Paul Bunyan originated with French Canadians in Quebec in 1837. Others think he developed out of an advertising campaign in the twentieth century.
As with any myth, the details change based on the story teller. Paul is reported to be anywhere from 8 feet tall to 30 feet tall (earlier accounts have him at the smaller 8') . Babe, his faithful companion is equally proportioned. So stand next to an ox, and then imagine how big that ox would be if you were 30 feet tall. And how much smaller everything else would be!
I said it's been a while since I heard any of the stories, but I remember something about Paul Bunyan and Babe and the Northern Lights. I don't remember exactly what it was. I have always associated Paul Bunyan with the Northern Lights. I tried to find this part of the story today, and found reference to a Disney short film on Paul Bunyan. So it is possible that my vision of Paul Bunyan over the years was actually created by the Imagineers at Disney!
It is said Paul Bunyan loved pancakes, and could eat 50 pancakes in under a minute. So, if you don't feel like dressing in a red and black plaid shirt, or dragging around a blue ox, maybe the best way to celebrate Paul Bunyan day is by mixing up a big stack of pancakes.
Monday, June 27, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 27, 2011
June 27 is Sun Glasses Day. That makes sense, we are a week into summer, and sunglasses are one of the 'must haves' for summer. In my case, sunglasses are a must have all year round.
I wear sunglasses practically every day. The only days I don't wear sunglasses are the days that it's really dark and rainy. I mean really dark. The skies are black, you have to have your headlights on in the middle of the day. If it's a gray day, I still wear sunglasses.
Wearing sunglasses is something my father was very serious about. When he and Mom were first married, Dad worked for the county highway department. In the winter, he drove snow plow. Dad got snow-blindness from the snow. The sun's rays bouncing back off of the pure white snow are sometimes worse than a sunny day in the middle of July. From that point on, Dad has had to wear glasses. So he stressed that we needed to protect our eyes and wear sunglasses.
Thankfully, I do not have to wear glasses for driving, so right now I'm able to wear cheap sunglasses. I do buy ones that protect against UV rays and are polarized to reduce the glare off of other cars. Have you ever noticed that you can't lose a cheap pair of sunglasses? And how quickly you can lose an expensive pair?
When I was in college, and had some extra money one summer, I went to The Sunglass Hut. I bought a nice pair of Ray-Bans. I dropped a couple weeks' pay on the sunglasses, thinking it was justified because they would last for years. I lost the sunglasses by the end of the summer, and found myself at the rack in Walmart looking for a replacement pair. Now I just save myself the trouble and head straight to Target. The pair I currently wear I've had for four or five years. I've dropped them more times than I can count, they've been tossed around in the car and my purse, and they are still great.
I don't shop for sunglasses often, because I'm very particular about sunglasses. I think I spend more time buying a pair of sunglasses, even cheap ones, than I do picking out a purse or a pair of shoes. They need to be big enough to cover my eyes completely, and my peripheral vision. Yet I don't want to look like a fly! The lenses need to be dark enough so I'm not squinting on the sunniest days. As I already mentioned, they have to be polarized and protect against UV rays. Of course, if they look good, that's a bonus!
When you step out today, grab those sunglasses! And remember- they aren't just for bright sunny days!
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 26, 2011
June 26 is 'National Chocolate Pudding Day'. Another yummy day. Chocolate pudding is a favorite of mine. I love the Jello single serving cups. I have one almost every day at lunch. It gives me a nice creamy bit of chocolate, and allows me a little escape in the middle of a hectic day.
Sometimes I want more pudding, more of a dessert than a nibble. Then I make pudding. Not from scratch- who do you think I am? No, I make the pudding from the box. The kind that is ready in five minutes. Whisk the pudding mix in with cold milk- and in a few minutes you have a nice bowl of pudding. Top it with a dollop of Cool-Whip, and I'm transported to my childhood.
We had chocolate pudding for dessert often. Our family loves chocolate pudding. My sister especially. My sister does not like green beans, which I love. We ate green beans at least once a week. Mom used to let us choose the vegetable for dinner. I always wanted green beans. My sister always wanted peas. Corn was the compromise that eliminated all arguments. But Mom knew we needed a balance, so some nights we had to eat green beans, much to my sister's dismay. And some nights we had to eat peas, much to my dismay. Mom always served mashed potatoes, so that we could hide the icky vegetables in our potatoes. I was better about eating peas than my sister was about eating beans. She would sit at the table, stoically refusing to eat the green beans. My parents tried the 'you aren't leaving the table until you finish them'. My sister exhibited a rare burst of patience, and managed to wait out my parents. They gave up long before she did. Mom and Dad said 'no dessert until you finish your beans'. My sister inquired what was for dessert. If the dessert wasn't something she was crazy about, then it wasn't incentive to eat her beans. If the dessert was chocolate pudding, she quickly ate her beans, then asked for extra cool whip on her pudding.
So Mom and Dad found the trick to getting my sister to eat her beans. If we had green beans for dinner, we had chocolate pudding for dessert. We were all much happier!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 25, 2011
June 25 is LEON day. Do you know why? No, it's not a day to celebrate those named Leon. Leon is NOEL spelled backwards. Noel?? On June 25??
That's right, friends! We are just six months away from Christmas!!! While most people will greet this news with groans of 'don't remind me' or see it as a stressful thing, I think it's wonderful. Christmas is my favorite time of year, and I love all of the preparation. The air feels like it's electrified. It is, for me, the most wonderful time of the year.
Of course, thinking that I have only six months, I realize I have at least two afghans to make. I need to get started on those. I'm not sure what I will buy Drew or Syd, but I know a trip to the outlet mall is in order. I have already come up with ideas for my parents, and in fact, have one of Dad's gifts already purchased and put up. Then there is the person who is the worst one on my list- Erich. I never know what to get him. I tried to give him an IOU for an afghan last year, and he refuses to pick out the yarn for it. Oh well, at least I have a few months to think about it.
I think the best way to celebrate Leon Day would be to put on a cd of Christmas music. It's discreet. After all, if you start putting up the Christmas tree today, your family might call the guys with the straight jackets to come get you. But you could listen to the music and enjoy the spirit. It might even make you feel a little cooler, since we are now into summer. For those who find the thought of Christmas stressful, just think- six months from tomorrow it will all be over!
Happy LEON day!
A Year of Blogging: June 24, 2011
June 24 was 'Swim a Lap Day'. Well I can tell you, that won't happen with me! Even if I had a pool, I wouldn't be swimming laps.
A friend commented on my post about summer, and my remark about bathing suits with 'don't you swim?'. As a matter of fact, I don't. It's not that I don't know how. Technically, I do know how to swim. Although it's been so long since I've done it, that perhaps I've forgotten.
My father is an incredible swimmer. He took lifeguard training as a teenager. My mother cannot swim. She never learned to swim. Her father never learned to swim, which I find odd because he was a Boy Scout for years. I can't remember if Grandma Wager could swim, but I think she could. When we went to the beach, Grandpa sat in a chair by the car, and Grandma was the one who went with us to the water.
Mom decided her girls were going to know how to swim. She signed us up for swimming lessons. We went to Troy every Sunday after church, and took swimming lessons at the Community Center. My sister took to the swimming lessons like she was part fish. I hated it. Have you ever been to a community center, and watched kids taking swimming lessons? Have you seen the child standing on the side of the pool, arms wrapped around themselves, screaming their head off and refusing to get into the pool? That was me! The community center was indoors, so my screams bounced off the metal bleachers surrounding the pool. Other parents looked at me thinking 'thank god she's not mine!' My parents kept encouraging me "Come on, honey, get in the pool." I finally made my way into the shallow end, but when we had to jump off the diving board into the deep end, all bets were off. There was no getting me into the pool. My sister told the instructor she'd dive for me. The instructor said I wouldn't pass if I didn't do it myself. I didn't care if I passed or not, I wasn't going in.
I have never liked getting my face wet. Mom said I was like that as a kid, when she would give me a bath. I had to tip my head back to her so she could wash my hair. I still do not like getting my face wet. I stand in the shower with my back to the water and wash my hair, and then turn around to face the shower, my face turned away from the water, to wash my body. Of course, I wash my face. In the sink, with a washcloth before my shower.
So diving into the deep end meant getting my face wet. I also didn't swim the breast stroke, because you have to put your face into the water. Eww. I could do the back float just fine. I also get claustrophobic when the water came up to my chest. My throat starts closing up. I can't watch movies with underwater scenes, I get that same feeling. I have never seen Titanic, for this very reason.
Mom and Dad thought perhaps the swim school, where everyone was a stranger to me, was too stressful. So they also signed me up for swimming lessons offered by our youth commission at the local park during the summer. Swimming lessons lasted three weeks. We went for a couple of hours each afternoon. For my sister, it was the best part of summer. For me, it felt like Hell.
The Youth Commission swimming lessons were done by age group. Beginners wore red-caps (oh those stiff rubber caps! They were always too tight and it felt like your brain was being sucked out of them). You were supposed to progress up through different colors. I think yellow and white caps were at the top of the food chain. Those were the ones who were eligible for life guard testing. The higher up your group was, the further away from shore you could swim. Red-caps stayed on the shoreline, practicing kicking in water that barely covered your stomach. My sister and I started out in the same group. She excelled, and each year she was moved up. After a few years of being a red cap, they finally promoted me out of pity. Laura was well beyond me, swimming circles around me. Finally, I was about 12 or 13 when Mom and Dad decided I didn't have to endure this torture any longer. Mom decided I knew the basics, and Dad said I didn't enjoy it, I wasn't going to learn any more. It was the happiest summer!
Whenever our family traveled, we always looked for a hotel with a pool. We barely got settled in the room before Dad & Laura changed into their suits and took off for the pool. Mom and I followed reluctantly, covering our suits with cover-ups and towels. Then we sat at the edge of the pool, dangling our feet into the water, watching the fish members of our family swim. We still do this. Mom and I are perfectly content to dip our toes in the water, while Dad and Laura swim for hours. I do enjoy hot tubs, but you don't have to swim in those- you can just relax.
A Year of Blogging: June 23, 2011
June 23 is National Pink Day. There's no reason why June 23 is National Pink Day. Apparently, someone somewhere just decided to name it National Pink Day. Sure, summer just started, but pink isn't a color I associate with summer. I associate pink with spring. Summer is full of orange, red, and yellow. At least in my world.
National Pink Day is probably a day that little girls love. Nothing says little girls like pink. We all know a small girl who tells you her favorite color is pink. Sydney says her favorite color is pink, but then tells you she likes all the colors expect gray and white. Yet, walking into her room, you get the feeling a pink crayon exploded in there! Pink walls, a pink shag rug (not the shag from 1970, but the cool shag currently sold at Target- it's actually a bunch of loose loops, but from a distance, it looks like shag), a pink beanbag chair. Her closet, stuffed to the edges (much like the closets of the women in her life), has a variety of colors, but you notice a lot of pink. Pink dresses. Pink shoes. Pink swimsuits and pink coats. She has a pink battery powered mustang at Mom's. She wears pink sunglasses to drive her pink mustang. Her sandbox is filled with pink sand. You get the idea!
It's funny that she loves pink. We tried to keep her from liking pink. When you look at baby clothes, there are pink clothes for girls and blue clothes for boys. There is also a lot of yellow and green. Sure, there are reds and browns and oranges, but for small babies, most of it can clearly be divided: pink, blue, or neutral (yellow/green). My sister's favorite color is purple, and she did not want pink or blue for her baby. We didn't know whether she was having a boy or girl until her shower, so Mom and I decorated in lavender and sage instead of pink and blue. When we found out the baby was a girl, we bought every purple outfit we could find in NY, MA, VT, and Ohio. We bought only a little pink. When Sydney came home from the hospital, she came home to a closet full of purple. And yet, in just a couple of short years, she has made the transformation and is a pink girl.
I never cared for pink. My sister liked pink when she was younger, but she moved to purple as a teenager. When I was in elementary school, my girlfriends' said their favorite color was pink. Mine was purple. I don't know what it was about pink- maybe it was what girls were supposed to like, so therefore, because I'm sometimes stubborn and obstinate, I didn't like it. I don't know. It was just never one of my favorites. Even now, I have a few tops with pink in them, and even fewer tops that are pink. I think there is a dress or two that is more pink than other colors. But most of my closet is blues, purples, and greens.
If you like pink, then June 23 is your day! Wear pink, paint your nails pink, hey, even paint your house pink if you want (a bit drastic, then again- who am I to talk? I live in a purple house). Paint the town pink and enjoy the day!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 22, 2011
June 22 is Chocolate Eclair Day. Now that's a shame, because an eclair would taste so great right now. For those who aren't familiar with eclairs, they are a light, crisp pastry. Inside the pastry is a rich cream. Eclairs are covered with a smooth chocolate icing.
As you eat an eclair, your taste buds first hit the sweet chocolate icing. Then you reach the flaky, crisp dough. Finally, you get a taste of the cool cream hidden inside the pastry. It's a wonderful sweet pastry that also satisfies the chocolate cravings.
The question is, is an eclair a breakfast pastry or a dessert pastry? In my mind, they can be either. It would be a sugary way to start your day, but a delicious one. And an eclair is also equally satisfying after dinner.
If you don't have access to fresh eclairs today, there are a couple of substitutions that will give you a similar taste sensation. One is a Boston Cream donut, the other is a Boston Cream pie. When it comes to pastry, chocolate, and cream- it's all good!
A Year of Blogging: June 21, 2011
June 21 was the first day of summer. It is the summer solstice, which is also the longest day of the year. And so we start my least favorite season of the year.
I am, without a doubt, a winter person. Give me a cold snowy day over a hot sunny day any time! I don't like to be hot, and you can always add on more clothes. I don't like having to slather myself with sunscreen before going outside for any length of time (which in my pale world, is more than 10 minutes). Ok, I know you are supposed to wear sunscreen all year long, but I don't. I wear it in the summer.
I don't like the bugs that come with summer. Bees, mosquitoes, black flies (it's a Northeast thing). I don't like the thunderstorms that pop up after a hot day. I hate that feeling when you walk outside into a humid day and you feel like you can't breathe. And let's not forget my least favorite part of summer: bathing suits. UGH! I own one. And I haven't worn it in a couple of years. Fortunately, there aren't a lot of bathing suit opportunities in my day to day life. But when you think about summer vacations and going to the beach, you've got to have a bathing suit.
I don't completely hate summer. I just strongly dislike it. There are some parts that I like. I like that here in Ohio it stays late until almost 10pm. I like sitting out by the fire in the evening. I like cooking on the charcoal grill, and I love the smell that fills the neighborhood when someone else is cooking out. I love the fresh fruits and vegetables. They almost make the heat and humidity bearable.
On the plus side, since I usually become more of a homebody than normal in the summer, I get more reading done. I get more crafts done. Well, unless I'm playing on Facebook all night!
Enjoy your summer! After all, Christmas is just a little over six months away!
A Year of Blogging: June 20, 2011
June 20 was 'Ice Cream Soda' Day. Ice cream sodas are also known as 'floats', depending what part of the country you are in. It is soda or a mixture of flavored syrup and carbonated water, with a couple of scoops of ice cream added to the glass.
The thought of an ice cream soda brings ideas of soda jerks- the young men who operated the soda fountains. According to Wikipedia, the first ice cream soda was served in 1874 in Philadelphia, PA. When I think of ice cream sodas, I think of a simpler time. I think of the neat white and black shoes that laced up like boots. A time when a nickel was worth so much more than it is today.
I'm sure we've all seen soda fountains in movies, or maybe on Food Network shows. I don't remember ever seeing one in person though. They are a relic, and I always kind of thought of ice cream sodas as a relic as well.
Interestingly, Wikipedia says that ice cream sodas became so popular among teens that some states banned them. Some states only banned them on Holy Days, others flat out banned ice cream sodas. This seems a little odd, until you think of the original 'purpose' of soda. Soda was marketed as a cure-all, and was considered a controlled substance that needed regulation, similar to alcohol. So ice cream sodas were the substance abuse problem of the early 20th century.
I've never cared for ice cream sodas. But I like ice cream sundaes, which actually got their start from ice cream sodas. Soda fountains had to figure out a way to earn a profit on Sundays, when they could not sell the soda. The soda fountains started selling ice cream as a food product, and called the new concoction 'sundaes' in honor of the day they were sold.
So whether you kick back with a root beer float, an ice cream sundae, or for our friends in Australia, a spider; remember- moderation is best!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 19, 2011
The third Sunday in June is Father's Day. This year, Father's Day falls on June 19. I wrote on Mother's Day that I was incredibly blessed with a super-hero Mom. I was doubly blessed because both of my parents are wonderful.
The first word I said was 'Daddy'. My father was my first hero. As a child, I thought he was a giant. Dad is 6'3", which I know is not the tallest person, but as a small child, he sure seemed like he was the tallest. When he put us up on his shoulders, we could see over any crowd. He could push us higher on the swing than Mom could. And he was always easy to spot in a crowd, because he's taller than most of the people around. I still find him by looking to the tallest person in a crowd.
Dad was a mechanic. He worked on heavy equipment- like bulldozers and trucks. His job was a very physically demanding job, and he did it for over 32 years. He put in long tiring hours. He worked a lot of overtime. Some nights he would come home and strip down in the yard before coming into the house, because he had gotten as he put it, 'an oil bath'. Sometimes it was a diesel bath. If he was working underneath a machine and something sprung a leak, Dad usually got covered in the liquid. We always ran to his truck once he parked it in the driveway, eager to take his cooler and thermos and paper. We waited on the porch until he had the truck parked, and he opened the door. That was our cue that it was ok to approach the truck. See, Dad didn't drive a pickup. He drove service vehicles. The smaller ones looked like power trucks. The largest one he drove was the size of a tractor-trailer, and had a boom on the flat bed to pick an engine out of the machine. We ran across the driveway, eager to start telling him about our day. I have no doubt that Dad was exhausted, and probably the last thing he wanted to do was listen to two teenage girls carry on, but he did. The nights that he had gotten an oil bath or a diesel bath, he wouldn't even let us touch his cooler and thermos. He said 'go in the house and tell Mom to come out'. So we went into the living room (which is on the backside of the house, away from the driveway) and waited while Mom went out and helped dad hose off in the yard, then he came in and went straight into the shower.
Whenever I walk into a Napa store, I think of my Dad. The smell of diesel and oil and car parts brings it all back. Dad's hands seemed permanently stained with grease and oil. When we took a week's vacation, his hands would almost look clean by the end of the week, just in time for him to go back to work. Dad always told my sister and I that we needed to study and go to college, so that we could do a job that used our brains instead of our backs.
Even though Dad worked long hours, he made it to all of our events. Even the smallest thing, like the annual Christmas concert, he was there. Some nights he came home as we were leaving, so Mom took us to school while he ate dinner, and then ran home and got him. There were concerts that we told him 'Dad, it's ok. This is no big deal, you don't have to come.' Yet, he came. He may have come in his work uniform, but he was there. The year my sister and I both ran track, he came to every single meet. He not only came, he and Mom brought coolers full of food. One cooler had drinks, another sandwiches and fruit. Mom and Dad became the official track parents. They took in all the athletes, from the Seniors to the 7th graders (I was in 9th grade, Laura in 7th). Dad came when parents who worked closer and more flexible hours did not. People in the school don't remember it now, but my father helped build the cross country course at our school. He did it because my sister wanted to run cross country. He went into the woods with the coach and a chainsaw, and blazed the path. And he beamed with pride when schools who were powerhouses in Cross Country came to our little podunk school and said it was the hardest course they'd ever run.
Dad was an imposing figure. He was 6'3", had dark hair and a dark moustache. Due to his truck driving and his job, his arms were thick and muscular. Dad said his arms were 'like oak trees'. He has a deep voice, and is a man of few words. He has a very clear sense of right and wrong, and there's very little gray area with him (someone told me last week that I share that same trait. I don't think it's a bad thing.). And Dad was protective of his daughters. As teenagers, it was not uncommon for Dad to see a boy at school looking at us, and wrap his arm around us to scare the boy off. I've honestly seen guys who were half a foot taller than Dad shudder in his presence. Yet, if you truly knew him, you knew that was just his exterior. A couple of my male friends were talking in high school. One had known me for a couple years, the other practically all my life. The one who hadn't known me long said something about my father being scary. The other friend said 'No, it's her Mom you have to watch out for'. That is so true!
Underneath this tough exterior, my father can be a teddy bear. He never minded that he had only daughters. Dad bought us Tonka toys, steel Caterpillar tractors, and each year he had a dirt pile trucked in. The dirt was actually to re-level the driveway after the winter, but it quickly became the play spot in the neighborhood. The neighborhood boys had sand boxes, but the Primeau girls had their own dirt pile (it had filled a dump truck!). My father is the biggest sports fan I know, and he passed that to us at a young age. We went to the local minor league baseball team. We went to RPI to see hockey games at the Fieldhouse. As we got older, he took us to football games and NASCAR races. He took my sister to Shea Stadium to see the Mets play (she has since converted from the dark side), and he took me to Montreal to see the Canadiens play at the Forum. Dad said he would take us to any event we wanted to see. When I was about 17, we saw that the Monster Trucks were going to be at the nearby speedway. Dad said 'I don't know how to get tickets'. The commercial said that tickets were available at the speedway, so my sister and I drove down the next day and bought three tickets (Mom was adamant that she was not going). So Dad took us to the Monster Truck rally! My sister and I today like different sports, but we are passionate about those. That passion, which borders on fanaticism, was planted by Dad.
Dad didn't try to make us tomboys. He acknowledged that we were girls. My father was the person who picked out both of our First Communion outfits. He found one for me which was all ruffles and pleats and just as feminine as could be. For my sister, who hated wearing dresses, he found one that had just the bare minimum of ruffles. He has always done a good job picking out dresses for us. He does a good job choosing dresses for Syd too. He picked out my comforter set when I was 10. We were in the store looking, and Dad found one that was perfect. It was white with pink and blue roses- it wasn't childish, but it wasn't too grown up. Of course, Dad has always done better with our outfits than he has with his own. We don't let him dress himself. Well, every day things like t-shirts and jeans, he can handle. But if we are going out to dinner, or to church, or something special, one of the women (either mom or one of us girls) tells him what to wear. He lost the right to choose his own outfits the day about 20 years ago when he came downstairs and announced he was ready to go. He had on a Kyle Petty Mellow Yellow race t-shirt (which had neon green on it), a pair of mint-green plaid golf shorts, and a pair of Green Bay packers socks. His argument was 'there's green in each thing!' We still tease him about that outfit.
Dad taught me to tie my shoes. He tied them so tightly it hurt, and I quickly learned how to re-tie them so they were comfortable. He taught me how to ride a bike without training wheels, running along beside me in the driveway. He did not teach me how to drive- he didn't have the patience for that. But once I had my driver's license, he taught me how to change the oil and to change a tire. He taught me the tree in the back yard did not grow dollar bills. And he taught me no matter how old I am, or how far away I move, he's always there for me.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 18, 2011
June 18 is 'Go Fishing Day'. This is a day I've never celebrated, but I'm sure my brother in law would love it. I have never been big on fishing. You might say that's understandable, since I'm female. Fishing is more of a guy's thing. But I know women who enjoy fishing. I'm just not one of them.
Dad tried to teach us to fish when we were little. So did my Uncle Sid. Uncle Sid & Aunt Hazel owned a gun & fishing shop which they ran out of their garage. Dad ordered fishing poles for each of us from Uncle Sid. When they came in, we were so excited! We ran over to Uncle Sid's, picked up our poles, and selected the perfect rubber worm. Uncle Sid sold brightly colored rubber worms, and it was always neat to see what colors had come in with the latest shipment. Then we went to the bridge and tried to fish. The problem was, the brook runs past Mom & Dad's house, but it is a very steep slope down to it. It's easily an eight foot drop to the water. The slopes on either side by Mom's house are so steep that it's difficult to walk down them. We weren't allowed to go down the slopes by ourselves.
Dad decided to solve this problem by taking us to Cherry Plain State Park. We rented a rowboat, put on our life vests, and Dad rowed us out into the lake. He showed us how to cast our line, and we waited. And waited. And waited. Then we decided we would much rather be on the beach with Mom, playing in the water. We didn't catch anything that day. That was I think, the last time I tried fishing. I thought it was boring. My sister kept trying. I remember watching her stand next to the brook with Dad or Uncle Sid, trying to fish. I think her interest lasted most of the summer- far longer than mine did. After that summer, our poles were hung in the garage. They might still be there! Dad doesn't often clean out the garage.
We still went to Uncle Sid's each year to see the colored worms. I don't know what the attraction was, but we loved it. Every time he got in a new shipment, Uncle Sid called our house. They lived next door, so we ran across the bridge and skipped through the shop door. Uncle Sid was usually standing behind the raised counter, and he handed over the jar of rubber worms for us to go through. I think the worms were 10 cents each, but maybe they were less than that. I don't remember what we used the worms for, but I know each year we bought a handful.
Sydney loves fishing. Andy took her last year for the first time. She told me she caught seven fish. I was thinking minnows. No- the fish she caught were huge! They were about a foot long! She's quite the little fisherwoman. She's very serious fishing with her Barbie pole.
It seems fitting that this year 'Go Fishing Day' falls on Father's Day weekend. If you & your dad like to fish- it's the perfect opportunity!
Friday, June 17, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 17, 2011
After pigging out on fudge yesterday for Fudge Day, today we have a balance. It is 'Eat Your Veggies Day'. June 17 is also 'Fresh Veggies Day'. The two are separate days that occur on the same day. I guess someone really wanted to drive the point home! (Probably after eating too much fudge.)
One of the things I love about summer is going to the farm stands and getting fresh fruits and vegetables. I like knowing the food is fresh from the garden. I don't like gardening, but I enjoy the fruits of the labor. Plus, it's nice to know where your food came from. I like to support the local families still making a living off the land. I buy cucumbers and make cucumber salad. I buy fresh green beans. Snapping the ends off brings back memories of sitting on the porch as a child, snapping the ends with Mom or Grandma. I also like to buy the new potatoes and cook them on the grill. They are so tender and cook up easily.
I eat a lot of salads in the summer. It's easier when you can get fresh vegetables. I also don't like to eat heavy meals when it's very hot out, so many nights I will just make a salad for dinner. I'm not very adventurous when it comes to vegetables- I like what I like. I don't like tomatoes or peas (except snap peas) or eggplant. Of course, I love corn but can no longer eat it. Nothing said summer as a child like fresh corn on the cob. Mom stopped at a farm stand and brought some home, then my sister and I stood by the brook husking it. When we got to the silk, we'd pull it off and toss it over the bank, and on breezy days it would blow back and cling to our legs. Many evenings were spent standing on the side of the brook in the late afternoon sun, husking corn.
But I try to make up for the variety by eating what I do like in quantity. Once our cucumbers start coming on in the garden, I'll be eating fresh cucumbers with lunch and dinner, every day. And yes, I'll probably get sick of them. Then come January, when I can't find a decent cucumber in the store, I will long for the days when they are coming out of the garden by the dozen.
A Year of Blogging: June 16, 2011
June 16 was Fudge Day. What a delicious celebration! And it's not just a day for chocoholics. Fudge comes in all kinds of flavors.
Of course, when you think of fudge, you think of chocolate. Chocolate is the most popular flavor of fudge. Chocolate fudge is sold with and without nuts (usually walnuts). Does anything taste more wonderful than sinking your teeth into a cool creamy piece of chocolate fudge? It's so sinful and yet so wonderful. You know you shouldn't, but you can't resist.
Actually, my favorite flavor of fudge is maple nut. Sweet maple syrup made into creamy fudge. It is rich and so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt. While I don't like nuts in chocolate fudge, I do like nuts in maple fudge, because it breaks up the sweetness a little. A little goes a long way!
I also love peanut butter fudge. I have found fudge very hard to make, but I have a recipe for a microwave peanut butter fudge that is incredible. I usually make it at Christmas and add a few pieces to each cookie plate. Usually, I'm able to eat one piece of fudge and then put the rest away. With the peanut butter fudge I make, I want to eat it all at once.
You can get fudge in practically any flavor- pistachio, watermelon, vanilla, cookies and cream, there's even a store nearby that sells pumpkin fudge in the fall. I love walking into a store and seeing a counter full of different colored fudge. Of course, it's always expensive, at something like $7 a pound. You purchase a couple of small chunks, and savor it over a couple of days. That way it eases the guilt- both at the cost and at the calories.
I think Fudge Day is a great day to indulge a little! Even if it's just with a hot fudge sundae!
A Year of Blogging: June 15, 2011
June 15 was Smile Power Day. It was a day to wear a smile, and see what a difference you made to others.
There are all types of smiles. There are sinister smiles, mischievous smiles, guilty smiles, smirks, and radiant smiles, to name a few. Sometimes, all it takes is a smile to make someones day. It seems so trivial- but it is true. You never know what the people you meet are dealing with, and maybe, one kind gesture from a stranger made a difference in their day.
One of the nicest things ever written in one of my high school yearbooks was written by a friend who said "Your smile lights up a room". I had never really thought about it. For three years, I didn't smile. I had braces, and I was really self-conscious of them. So I smiled, but with my lips closed. When the braces came off, my teeth seemed huge. Once I adjusted to the naked teeth, I found my smile again.
I love to see Sydney's smile. When she doesn't think about the gap in her teeth, she has this sweet toothy little kid smile that warms you straight to your soul. Drew still has his baby smile, that cute smile of recognition or happiness. He claps and laughs when you smile back at him. Both are so sweet, and both can make a less than wonderful day so much better.
Smiles are a gift you can give to anyone. They don't cost anything, and are better for your face than frowning. But a smile should not be forced or phony. If you are going to offer someone a smile, make it genuine. So wear your smile today, just make sure it's not the only thing you wear!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 14, 2011
In the US, June 14 is Flag Day. On June 14, 1777, the Second Continental Congress passed a resolution adopting the American flag. June 14 is also celebrated as the birthday of the US Army. It's a very patriotic day!
Flag Day has always been a day I enjoyed. We used to have a celebration in elementary school. Yes, we were still in school on June 14. It was a sign that the school year was almost over. It was a pleasant sign, unlike field day- a day where you had to do a lot of outdoor athletic activities. I always hated that day. But Flag Day was wonderful.
We had a ceremony in front of the school. Usually a few of the Cub Scouts would lead the ceremony. They would unfold the flag and hoist it onto the pole in the school yard. We learned about the meaning of the different parts of the flag. The 50 stars represented the 50 states. 13 stripes, one for each of the thirteen colonies. Sometimes we saw pictures of older versions of the flag. I am pretty sure we stood in the driveway of the school, grades K-5 first reciting the Pledge of Allegiance and then singing 'The Star Spangled Banner'. If it was raining, the ceremony was held in the gym. It was an energetic precursor to the Fourth of July.
The largest Flag Day parade is held each year in Troy, NY. Troy is the county seat of Rensselaer County (where I grew up). Troy sits across the Hudson River from Albany. The Troy Flag Day parade draws approximately 50,000 people each year. It's no wonder I remember Flag Day as being a big deal. Our newspapers came from Troy and Albany, and the TV Stations were in Albany, so we had a lot of coverage of the Flag Day parade. Yet I've never been to it. One year I'll have to make sure to go!
I wonder, if I weren't American, if I would still love the red, white, and blue color scheme. To me, nothing says summer more than red, white, and blue. Of course, I'm a bicentennial baby (as is every other person who celebrates their 35 birthday this year), so maybe it's in my blood!
Show your pride today and display your flag!
Monday, June 13, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 13, 2011
June 13 is Sewing Machine Day. I have to say, this is a day that is not celebrated in our family! I do not own a sewing machine. My mother does not own a sewing machine. Mom at least used to have a sewing basket- it was a basket that had legs, it stood maybe knee high. It was covered in that beautiful gold velvet fabric from the 1970's. She had spools of thread of all colors in that basket, and a few needles were stuck inside the underside of the top. She had so much thread because if we needed to sew a button on a shirt and she didn't have the right color, we went to the Corner Store in town and bought the right color.
Somewhere in this house, I have a spool of white thread and a spool of black thread. I figure that is all I need. I can tell you where my needles are, they are with my knitting stuff because I use a sewing needle to weave in the ends on my knitting projects. I don't sew. I have no desire to sew.
I am a little envious of people who do sew. I know they have an incredible talent. I'd love to be able to make heirloom quilts for family members. I will have to be content making them heirloom afghans!
My Grandma had a beautiful sewing machine. It folded into a nice cabinet and became a table. I always thought it was so neat, and must have cost a fortune. Turns out she won it at the county fair one year. That same year her brother won a headstone at the fair. Well, I suppose both were useful.
For my friends who do sew, enjoy a few minutes with your sewing machine today!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 12, 2011
June 12 is Red Rose Day. Apparently, red roses are America's favorite flower. Since June is Rose Month, as well as a popular month for weddings, it makes sense to have a day to celebrate roses. But I think it should be pink roses, not red.
Every rose color has a different meaning. I think everyone knows red roses mean love. They are a traditional flower for first dates, weddings, and anniversaries. Did you also know red roses mean beauty, courage, and respect? 
I personally have never liked red roses. They are just too common. I have always preferred pink roses. I don't know why, because I do not like pink. But pink roses have always been my favorite flowers. Pink roses mean appreciation, thank you, grace (ha! and yet they are my favorite?!), perfect happiness, and admiration. And if you bring me pink roses, you've made me very happy!
My mother has always loved yellow roses. Yellow roses mean joy, gladness, friendship and delight. This is really quite perfect for my Mom. She is a person who loves bringing joy to other people's lives.
My sister's favorite roses are lavender roses. She is the queen of purple, so it's no surprise that her favorite roses are also in the purple family. Purple or lavender roses mean enchantment, royalty, and mystery.
Whatever your favorite color of roses are, I think today's the perfect day to receive a nice bouquet of roses! Or pick some off the rosebush in your yard.
I personally have never liked red roses. They are just too common. I have always preferred pink roses. I don't know why, because I do not like pink. But pink roses have always been my favorite flowers. Pink roses mean appreciation, thank you, grace (ha! and yet they are my favorite?!), perfect happiness, and admiration. And if you bring me pink roses, you've made me very happy!
My mother has always loved yellow roses. Yellow roses mean joy, gladness, friendship and delight. This is really quite perfect for my Mom. She is a person who loves bringing joy to other people's lives.
My sister's favorite roses are lavender roses. She is the queen of purple, so it's no surprise that her favorite roses are also in the purple family. Purple or lavender roses mean enchantment, royalty, and mystery.
Whatever your favorite color of roses are, I think today's the perfect day to receive a nice bouquet of roses! Or pick some off the rosebush in your yard.
A Year of Blogging: June 11, 2011
June 11 was King Kamehameha Day. It is a public holiday in Hawaii. I have to admit, I know nothing about this day. So I started doing some research (ok, a Google search) to find out more about it.
King Kamehameha Day was first established in 1871 by King Kamehameha V to honor his grandfather, King Kamehameha I. King Kamehameha I was the first to establish the unified kingdom of Hawai'i in 1810. He was the first King of Hawaii. The first King Kamehameha Day was held on June 11, 1872. It was also one of the first days to be proclaimed a holiday once Hawaii gained statehood in 1959.
According to Wikipedia, King Kamehameha's full name was Kalani Paiʻea Wohi o Kaleikini Kealiʻikui Kamehameha o ʻIolani i Kaiwikapu kaui Ka Liholiho Kūnuiākea . And I was having a hard enough time typing Kamehameha!
King Kamehameha I is known for uniting the islands, and for keeping them independent from colonial rule. He did not allow non-Hawaiians to own land. His Kingdom of Hawai'i mostly retained its' independence (except for a brief five month British Occupation in 1843) until it was annexed by the United States in 1898.
When King Kamehameha I died in 1819, his body was hidden by close friends according to Hawaiian custom. Even to this date, nearly 200 years later, his exact burial spot remains unknown.
Parades are held all over Hawaii for King Kamehameha Day. The celebration lasts two days, and is a time of ancient rituals and traditions. I've never really had a desire to go to Hawaii, but I think it would be beautiful to visit for King Kamehameha Day.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 10, 2011
June 10 was "National Iced Tea Day". What a delicious and refreshing day! I used to associate iced tea with summer. My dad wanted us to drink milk every night for dinner. Dad's family farmed, so he was used to drinking milk. Mom didn't grow up drinking milk. The only time Grandma Wager had milk in the frig was if we were visiting. Mom and Dad compromised- we didn't have to drink milk with dinner when it was hot. We usually had iced tea. Mom bought the Nestea powdered mix, and we made iced tea by the pitcher.
I grew up drinking sweetened tea with lemon. There is a difference between sweetened tea and sweet tea. Sweet Tea is served in the south. It is so sweet, it makes your teeth hurt. Sweetened tea doesn't have the bite that unsweetened tea does, but it's not the syrupy sweet tea so favored in the South.
Grandpa used to make Sun Tea. He put tea bags in a big glass jar with water, and left it out in the sun. It was more of an unsweetened tea, and was different than what I was used to drinking. It took a while to get used to it.
When I was fitted with braces at the age of 13, one of the things I was told to avoid was sweetened tea. The orthodontist said I could drink unsweetened tea. I don't know why, perhaps the extra sugar was bad for all the metal. So I switched, and started drinking unsweetened tea. Once the braces came off, I wasn't able to switch back. In the three years I had braces, I found I actually liked unsweetened tea.
When I became an adult, I realized that Iced Tea is on restaurant menus all year long. You can drink it any time, it doesn't have to be in summer. A few years ago, I tried a raspberry iced tea at Bob Evans, and I was hooked. It's a good balance between the sweetened tea and unsweetened. The raspberry provides just enough sweetness. Then I discovered that Nestea makes a raspberry iced tea powder. That is now my drink of choice! I drink it all year long. Some days I go through a whole pitcher. It is one of the items that is almost always on the grocery list. Erich gets annoyed because he said 'I'm always buying raspberry iced tea!" To me, there's no better way to kick back and relax than with a nice glass of raspberry iced tea.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 9, 2011
June 9 is Donald Duck Day! Donald Duck made his debut on June 9, 1934. His first appearance was in 'The Wise Hen'.
Donald Duck is my favorite Disney character. I have never cared for that mouse. I like Donald. He is moody, just like me. I love to watch the cartoons where Donald gets spitting mad and stomps around. He's a little bit o
dd, and I identified with that. I like that you can't understand him half the time. And lets face it, a duck is much cuter than a mouse!
Even though I'm a huge Donald Duck fan, somehow there are no pictures of me with Donald Duck. I can't believe this! I've searched all my photo albums, and only came up with this picture of Sydney meeting Donald Duck. I will have to remedy this next year when we go to Disney, and make sure to get my picture taken with the Duck!
I have some Donald Duck memorabilia throughout the house. I have Donald Duck ornaments on my Christmas tree. Perhaps the item that means the most to me is my Donald Duck cookie jar. It's a ceramic cookie jar. JC Penney carried it when I was registering for wedding gifts with my ex-husband. It was perfect! I added it to the registry, even though he didn't like it. A dear family friend bought it for me for my bridal shower. She said she'd been looking for something unique to buy me, and when she saw the cookie jar she knew that was it. She remembered how much I love Donald Duck. I treasure the cookie jar. It currently sits in my dining room on top of the buffet. I will never get rid of it.
The best way to celebrate Donald Duck Day is to watch some Donald Duck cartoons. I know the Disney channel had special Donald Duck cartoons on earlier this afternoon. And remember- Respect the Duck! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
dd, and I identified with that. I like that you can't understand him half the time. And lets face it, a duck is much cuter than a mouse!
Even though I'm a huge Donald Duck fan, somehow there are no pictures of me with Donald Duck. I can't believe this! I've searched all my photo albums, and only came up with this picture of Sydney meeting Donald Duck. I will have to remedy this next year when we go to Disney, and make sure to get my picture taken with the Duck!
I have some Donald Duck memorabilia throughout the house. I have Donald Duck ornaments on my Christmas tree. Perhaps the item that means the most to me is my Donald Duck cookie jar. It's a ceramic cookie jar. JC Penney carried it when I was registering for wedding gifts with my ex-husband. It was perfect! I added it to the registry, even though he didn't like it. A dear family friend bought it for me for my bridal shower. She said she'd been looking for something unique to buy me, and when she saw the cookie jar she knew that was it. She remembered how much I love Donald Duck. I treasure the cookie jar. It currently sits in my dining room on top of the buffet. I will never get rid of it.
The best way to celebrate Donald Duck Day is to watch some Donald Duck cartoons. I know the Disney channel had special Donald Duck cartoons on earlier this afternoon. And remember- Respect the Duck! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!
A Year of Blogging: June 8, 2011
June 8 was Best Friend Day. My idea of a Best Friend has changed as I've gotten older. It used to seem so important to identify another person as my best friend. The whole world (or at least the entire school) had to know who my best friend was. There were times my best friends were girls, and at other points in my life my best friends have been male. It was very different having a female best friend versus a male best friend. Females were very petty and catty. At least all through elementary school and high school. Sure, we gave each other friendship bracelets, had sleepovers, and knew who our secret crushes were. But it seems almost every one of the female best friends I had at some point in school stabbed me in the back or betrayed me. The friendships didn't end well. I found myself trusting females less and less. Yet, I was friends with my male best friends for years. Our friendships had closer moments and some times when we were a little distant, but the friendship endured. Of course, I didn't have sleepovers with my male friends, but I felt closer to them. The relationships seemed more meaningful. Male friends were not as catty or as petty as the female friends were. The friendships with my male friends slowly dissolved, as we went different directions in life. There were no major blowouts, no drama. We just drifted apart.
There are some of my former best friends whom I miss terribly. Like the boy who moved in next door when I was four. We were in the yard playing, and I noticed the movers carrying a red tricycle just like mine off the moving truck. I was so excited because the new neighbors had a child my age! My excitement wasn't dampened when I learned the child my age was a boy. We were friends all through high school, and drifted apart when I was in college. His life had taken a very different turn at the end of his senior year, and his college dreams disappeared. He was embarrassed and couldn't face me. I wish he realized I would have still been his friend.
I miss the boy I went to school with from Pre-school through 12th grade. He was just before me alphabetically- in all those years no one came between our two names in the list. We grew really close my last two years of high school. He accepted me as I was. We kept in touch while I was in college, but the communication became more sparse, until it just stopped altogether.
I miss the woman I shared college with. We roomed together for three years, and she was like a sister to me. Most of my college memories involve either her or my ex-husband, or both. When it seemed she was rushing into marriage, I expressed the concerns all of our friends had, and I paid the price.
These friendships left holes in my heart. Sometimes I miss these people so much. I've looked them up, and thought about contacting them. And then I stop. If I could find them, they could have found me. I remind myself not to worry about those who are not part of my life anymore. There is a reason they are not in my life. I think of the friends who are in my life, and I know I am truly blessed.
I have the women I met through my bear collecting. These women are among my best friends. We have so many things in common, not just the bears. We encourage each other and are there for each other. My life is enriched by their friendship. Every day I thank God for bringing them into my life. There are friends I've made at different jobs, or in different parts of my life. There are the college and high school friends I've reconnected with.
I don't know that I have an actual best friend. Erich is one of my best friends because he knows things about me that no one else knows. My sister is one of my best friends because she knows my story, and understands the person I am. My mom is one of my best friends because she loves me anyway. I am surrounded by great friends, and I think that is more important than choosing one as your 'best' friend.
A Year of Blogging: June 7, 2011
June 7 was "National Chocolate Ice Cream Day". I'm all in favor of eating ice cream, and I love chocolate. I just don't like chocolate ice cream. The texture of chocolate ice cream seems different to me than any other flavor of ice cream.
There is one chocolate ice cream I love- Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie. It's chocolate ice cream with bits of chocolate fudge brownies mixed in. It is decadent. I don't eat it often, because it's so rich and it's hard to keep from eating the entire pint. But it is so good!
Oh wait! There are two chocolate ice creams I like. The other is Edy's, and it is Thin Mint ice cream. It's a special edition only available in the winter. It's chocolate ice cream with pieces of Thin Mint cookies (from the Girl Scouts) mixed in. So I guess I like chocolate ice cream if it has other chocolate desserts in it.
If you missed National Chocolate Ice Cream day, you can still enjoy a scoop (or two) of chocolate ice cream tonight!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 6, 2011
Anyone of a certain age knows June 6 as D-Day. On June 6, 1944, the Allied troops landed on the beaches of Normandy, France. It began the liberation of France. It is one of the biggest battles of WWII. I have always known June 6 was D-Day. And it has always made me a little sad because June 6 is also my birthday.
This year was number 35. For some reason, the thought of turning 35 bothered me for months. I can't explain it. I haven't been bothered by the traditional big numbers: 20, 30. No. Those were nothing! But 27 and 35? Big freak outs! Twenty-seven was the first time I tried to buy alcohol (which I do very rarely) and was not carded. In Ohio, they are supposed to card you if you look like you are under 30. When I wasn't carded at 27, I thought I must look old! I had given the sales clerk my license, and she laughed and said 'oh, I don't need that!' I colored my hair the next day, just in case I looked 30! So this year, 35 seemed so old. I know, my friends who are in their 50s, 60s, and 70s are laughing at me. And now that I am 35, I'm ok.
I did the same thing I've done for the past few years- I went home to NY to spend the weekend with my family. When Monday rolled around, everyone went to work. I was fine with that, it gave me a day to myself. I slept until 8am, which at Mom's is incredibly late. I woke up, did my laundry, and got my bag packed for my departing flight on Tuesday. Dad came home around 9:30 from his first bus run, and we chatted until he left at 10:20 for the next run. After Dad left, I took off for my day.
Mom had left her new Rav4 for me. I always feel odd driving my parents' cars. They've had SUVs that are bigger than what I'm used to driving, or cars that I'm not used to. I get really nervous driving their cars. No more! I have a Rav4, so driving Mom's was just like being at home. Especially since it's the same color. I wanted to visit a couple of cemeteries and work more on my genealogy. I drove over the mountain, and took roads I don't normally take. I used to drive these roads all the time, it was nice to drive them again. There were no other cars on these rural mountain roads. I felt like I had the whole world to myself. The country station my parents listen to plays a good mix of 'old' country (ie- the music I grew up listening to), and I found myself singing along quite a bit. I slipped into my own world, and was scared out of my mind when an eagle rose from the side of the road and flew over the hood of the car. It's a good thing there were no other cars around- I stopped in the middle of the road and watched the eagle soar overhead. It was breathtaking!
I was on high alert looking for a moose. The moose population in Rensselaer county has been increasing steadily over the past few years. When I was a child, each spring there would be a news story about a young bull moose wandering around the Troy area. They came out of the Adirondacks, searching for food and mates. If there is too much competition in one area, the male moose wanders until there is less competition. We never saw moose in our area (my parents live about 30 minutes from Troy). In the past five years, moose sightings in my hometown have increased. Now it seems everyone has seen at least one moose. Dad saw one last year while mowing for the county. Last year, there were 5 moose (I think that's the number, it may have been more) killed by car/moose collisions in the county! Over the weekend, Dad talked to one of their neighbors, who had a female moose and her calf in his backyard. The moose walked off the mountain into his yard. Friends on Facebook reported seeing a moose on the top of 'The Mountain' (the road that goes over the mountain on the west side of Berlin is referred to as 'The Mountain'). I was excited. Where Mom and Dad live is very rural, but the roads I was traveling were even more rural. I was in the same area that several people have spotted a moose. And, I had my camera next to me on the seat. So of course, I did not see a moose. It wasn't a total loss- I heard one later in the day!
My first stop was visiting the Taborton church cemetery. Taborton church was my Grandma's church (it's official name is Zion United Church of Christ, but we always called it Taborton church, or Gram's church). The church was built by my great-great grandfather. It has been the family church for generations. I think everyone who currently goes there is related to us somehow! The church sits on a hill on top of a mountain. Behind the church, on another hill, is the cemetery. As with the church, I think everyone buried there is a relative in some way. I've been to the cemetery before, but wanted to see what relatives I had missed the first time through. I parked the car and walked across the gently rising and sharply falling land. I instantly wished I had brought bug spray, but I hadn't so I tried to ignore the bugs. I read the stones, mentally piecing together the relationship between myself and the person buried there.
Monday was a beautiful day. The sky was a brilliant clear blue. There were fluffy cotton ball clouds in the sky. It was warm, but there was a nice breeze. As I wandered through this sacred plot, I had time to reflect on the day, on the gift God had presented to me. I was grateful that I had the day to walk around outside, to enjoy the beauty that surrounded me. I have often thought that I was so fortunate to grow up in one of the prettiest places on earth. It is truly God's country. Yet I get caught up in my own thing, I don't always take a moment to step back and enjoy the wonder. On my 35th birthday, I did just that.
I drove out of the cemetery driveway, and parked the car at the end. I walked the few yards to the driveway of the church. The last time I was in the church was for Grandma's funeral in February. I thought I would be sad, but instead, I felt th
is incredible combination of extreme peace and a strong connection to the place. There are some places in my life that are my roots. I can feel them grounding me, and providing a steady foundation. Taborton is one of those places. I feel the arms of previous generations holding me. It is not a smothering feeling, but rather a very comforting one. As I stood there looking at the church, I noticed the sign out front advertising the Turkey Dinner that was held June 4. For the first time in many years (as long as I can remember), the number to call for reservations was unfamiliar. Grandma always handled the reservations. The peacefulness that overcame me caused me to take a picture of the sign. I thought better of sharing it on Facebook, because I didn't know how my cousins would react. It didn't upset me. I turned to the lake across the road. It is a beautiful clear lake surrounded by woods. Unlike many lakes, the shore is not dominated by houses. I've always considered it a hidden jewel in the wilderness. It's like a wonderful piece of the Adirondacks without the tourists!
I left Taborton and drove to the cemetery where Grandma is buried. When I stepped out of the car, I grabbed a pack of Kleenex and put it in my pocket. The same calmness and serenity that had found me in Taborton stayed with me. I was prepared for a meltdown, and surprised when none came. The people who mowed the cemetery had carelessly tossed our flower arrangements on top of Grandma's grave. I knew which arrangement was supposed to go on my sister's grave, and which ones went on dad's sisters' graves. I rearranged the flowers and brushed the dead grass off the stones. I really wish I had taken a pair of hand trimmers, because the grass was growing around the base of the stones making it hard to read the family headstone. Once I had cleaned up the family plot as best I could without any kind of tools, I wandered through other parts of the cemetery. I found more relatives that I've missed on my previous rounds. I know some people get creeped out at the thought of walking through a cemetery, but it doesn't bother me. I love reading the headstones and piecing together the family tree.
My Aunt wanted to meet me for lunch, so I chose the diner near her house. I knew she could find her way there, and I knew I could find my way there. We had a nice lunch, then I went to her apartment for a while. She lives in senior housing, and is one of the youngest people there. There are always old ladies for her to introduce me to. Walking to her apartment quickly turns into a social event. She has been helping my sister by picking Syd up from school every day, so when she left to get Sydney, I went to visit Mom at work because I hadn't seen her all day. Then I met Aunt Arlene & Sydney at the park. Sydney was so excited! She could hardly stand still while I pulled into the parking lot.
Once I was out of the car, she told Aunt Arlene (whom she calls Duckie) "Aunt Amy and I are going to play. You can go home, Duckie." Sydney felt she had to clean the park before she could play. I was told to watch Ruby, her doll, because "sometimes she crawls away". Syd played for about half an hour on the swings and slides. There were a lot of children there, but none of them were her little friends. It was so hot on Monday, and there is no shade by the playground. I had a tiny bottle of water I kept sharing with her. Around 3pm, I asked her if she was hot, and she said 'Yes, let's go home and turn the air conditioners on.' That sounded like a great idea to me! We went home and each had a nice cold drink. Then we played in her room. We had an hour at home before my Mom arrived with Drew. I had to give Drew a bottle, and Mom left to pick up Dad so we could all go out to dinner. I played with Sydney and Drew for another hour. At one point, I had Drew on one side of my lap, Sydney draped on the other side of my lap, and Patterson and Chesney (my sister's dogs) hanging over my shoulders from the back of the couch. Everyone wanted a piece of Aunt Amy. I didn't mind. I enjoyed every second.
When my brother in law (and birthday twin) came home, we piled into the Rav and went to Kay's for pizza. We met the rest of the family there. We had a yummy dinner, and lots of fun. Then it was time for the goodbyes. It wasn't as sad this time. Maybe because I'll be back there in about 9 weeks.
I had the perfect birthday. I had time for myself, time as Aunt Amy, and time with the family. All of my favorite things-stuffed into one beautiful day. And the best part? It didn't rain a drop!
is incredible combination of extreme peace and a strong connection to the place. There are some places in my life that are my roots. I can feel them grounding me, and providing a steady foundation. Taborton is one of those places. I feel the arms of previous generations holding me. It is not a smothering feeling, but rather a very comforting one. As I stood there looking at the church, I noticed the sign out front advertising the Turkey Dinner that was held June 4. For the first time in many years (as long as I can remember), the number to call for reservations was unfamiliar. Grandma always handled the reservations. The peacefulness that overcame me caused me to take a picture of the sign. I thought better of sharing it on Facebook, because I didn't know how my cousins would react. It didn't upset me. I turned to the lake across the road. It is a beautiful clear lake surrounded by woods. Unlike many lakes, the shore is not dominated by houses. I've always considered it a hidden jewel in the wilderness. It's like a wonderful piece of the Adirondacks without the tourists!
I left Taborton and drove to the cemetery where Grandma is buried. When I stepped out of the car, I grabbed a pack of Kleenex and put it in my pocket. The same calmness and serenity that had found me in Taborton stayed with me. I was prepared for a meltdown, and surprised when none came. The people who mowed the cemetery had carelessly tossed our flower arrangements on top of Grandma's grave. I knew which arrangement was supposed to go on my sister's grave, and which ones went on dad's sisters' graves. I rearranged the flowers and brushed the dead grass off the stones. I really wish I had taken a pair of hand trimmers, because the grass was growing around the base of the stones making it hard to read the family headstone. Once I had cleaned up the family plot as best I could without any kind of tools, I wandered through other parts of the cemetery. I found more relatives that I've missed on my previous rounds. I know some people get creeped out at the thought of walking through a cemetery, but it doesn't bother me. I love reading the headstones and piecing together the family tree.
My Aunt wanted to meet me for lunch, so I chose the diner near her house. I knew she could find her way there, and I knew I could find my way there. We had a nice lunch, then I went to her apartment for a while. She lives in senior housing, and is one of the youngest people there. There are always old ladies for her to introduce me to. Walking to her apartment quickly turns into a social event. She has been helping my sister by picking Syd up from school every day, so when she left to get Sydney, I went to visit Mom at work because I hadn't seen her all day. Then I met Aunt Arlene & Sydney at the park. Sydney was so excited! She could hardly stand still while I pulled into the parking lot.
Once I was out of the car, she told Aunt Arlene (whom she calls Duckie) "Aunt Amy and I are going to play. You can go home, Duckie." Sydney felt she had to clean the park before she could play. I was told to watch Ruby, her doll, because "sometimes she crawls away". Syd played for about half an hour on the swings and slides. There were a lot of children there, but none of them were her little friends. It was so hot on Monday, and there is no shade by the playground. I had a tiny bottle of water I kept sharing with her. Around 3pm, I asked her if she was hot, and she said 'Yes, let's go home and turn the air conditioners on.' That sounded like a great idea to me! We went home and each had a nice cold drink. Then we played in her room. We had an hour at home before my Mom arrived with Drew. I had to give Drew a bottle, and Mom left to pick up Dad so we could all go out to dinner. I played with Sydney and Drew for another hour. At one point, I had Drew on one side of my lap, Sydney draped on the other side of my lap, and Patterson and Chesney (my sister's dogs) hanging over my shoulders from the back of the couch. Everyone wanted a piece of Aunt Amy. I didn't mind. I enjoyed every second.
When my brother in law (and birthday twin) came home, we piled into the Rav and went to Kay's for pizza. We met the rest of the family there. We had a yummy dinner, and lots of fun. Then it was time for the goodbyes. It wasn't as sad this time. Maybe because I'll be back there in about 9 weeks.
I had the perfect birthday. I had time for myself, time as Aunt Amy, and time with the family. All of my favorite things-stuffed into one beautiful day. And the best part? It didn't rain a drop!
A Year of Blogging: June 5, 2011
June 5 was 'World Environment Day'. Each year, the United Nations sets a theme, and chooses a different part of the world to host the celebration. This year's theme was 'Forests: Nature at Your Service". India played host to this year's events. It's a day to focus on important environmental issues, and this year, that focus is on our forests.
I'm not the greenest person. I try to help Mother Earth. I recycle. I use reusable bags at the grocery store. We have planted trees in the yard. But that's about as far as I go. So I really don't have a lot to say on this topic.
I spent Monday afternoon playing with Sydney. We were at the park, and her focus was picking up litter. Not the most exciting way to spend a day. She frowned and said 'People are so dirty! They've made a big mess and I have to pick it up!' Thankfully, Aunt Amy had hand sanitizer in her purse! I was proud of her though, for knowing that littering is wrong, and wanting to make her corner of the world a better place. Maybe that's all any of us can hope for- make a small change here, and if everyone does it, we'll leave the world better than we found it!
A Year of Blogging: June 4, 2011
June 4 was 'Old Maid's Day'. This struck me as funny. The origin of Old Maid's Day, according to www.holidayinsights.com came after WWII ended. Many relationships were put on hold during the War, and many men didn't return. There were a lot of eligible women waiting at home, so socials and dances were held to introduce returning GI's to potential wives. Well, that's how my dad's parents met. Grandpa was back from the service, and attended a dance in Grandma's town. I don't know if it was a dance specifically arranged as a matchmaker though.
Old Maid's Day makes me think of my Mom. Yes, my Mom. Mom's sister tells the story that when they were little, they played the card game 'Old Maid'. Supposedly, if you are left with the Old Maid card, then you will be an Old Maid. So my mother hid the Old Maid cards because she was afraid of being an Old Maid. Ironically, it's my Aunt who is the Old Maid. Sydney has the same card game, and she wanted to play with Mom while I was home on one of my many trips. Mom told her they had to remove the Old Maid cards first, because you weren't supposed to play with those. My sister and I laughed. 36 years of marriage and she still won't play with the Old Maid cards!
For my feline loving readers, June 4 was 'Hug Your Cat Day'. June is also 'Adopt a Cat Month'. So, if you like cats, and don't have one to hug, visit your local shelter!
A Year of Blogging: June 3, 2011
I was away for a long weekend, and didn't have time to get to the computer. I had access, just not the time. Sometimes, it's good to unplug. I hardly ever watched the news, I wasn't checking my email or Facebook, and I survived! I did log on a couple of times, when I had a few minutes to myself, but it was very peaceful. Perhaps I need to be better about just walking away from the computer at home.
June 3 was 'National Doughnut Day'. I prefer that to the alternative, 'Egg Day'. I don't eat eggs. I was in NY for the weekend, and Sydney wanted eggs for breakfast on Saturday. She told my mom to make some for Aunt Amy, and Mom said 'Aunt Amy doesn't like eggs'. This was very odd for Sydney, and when she asked why, Mom told her 'because Aunt Amy is weird'. Now, I admit, it's not the first time I've been called weird, but there are many other things that I would think make me weird than not liking eggs.
I do, however, like doughnuts. My favorite are the chocolate cake doughnuts, covered in glaze. I also like Boston Cream doughnuts and maple frosted doughnuts. I love Dunkin Donuts, but we don't have too many Dunkin Donuts in Ohio. The two that are nearby are on busy streets and hard to get to. So Dunkin Donuts are a treat I enjoy when I go to NY. My Mom is the best, she stops at the nearest one the morning that I'm coming in, and buys a dozen. So I actually did have doughnuts during the weekend.
Of course, my favorite doughnuts are the homemade buttermilk ones my Grandma used to make. It is one of the few recipes of hers that have been passed on to other generations. I have the recipe, but I never make them. It is a lot of work to make the doughnuts. You have to make the dough, knead it, roll it out, and cut out the doughnuts. Then you have to fry them in a deep fryer, and then pull them out of the fryer and let them cool (we use brown paper bags, which absorbs some of the oil). Mom makes the doughnuts, and when she comes to visit, she usually makes some for me and I freeze them. Grandma's doughnuts are unlike anything you find in a store. They taste of buttermilk and nutmeg, and are wonderful if you coat them in powdered sugar. Every time I taste one, I see Grandma standing in her kitchen, kneading the dough and rolling it out. We could hardly wait for the first batch to cool enough so that we could dive right in. It didn't matter how often she made doughnuts (and she made them regularly), it was still a delicious treat.
Here's something you probably didn't know about me: I used to be the person making the doughnuts. No, not at Dunkin Donuts (anyone remember the commercials from the 80's of the guy who gets up and says 'time to make the donuts'?) . I worked at a local grocery store in high school, and on Sunday mornings they had fresh doughnuts. The doughnuts arrived frozen from the supplier, and they had to be left out to proof (rise), then baked, and covered with frosting, glaze, or sugar (for jelly doughnuts). In my senior year, they asked me to come in and do the doughnuts. I had to be at the store at 7am, but it was a lot of fun!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 2, 2011
Two days into one of my favorite months, and we've hit a couple of duds! June 2 is "Bubba Day". It's a day to honor those named Bubba. Whether your given name is Bubba, or you've earned the nickname at some point in your life. Suggestions for celebrating the day are to 'act like a Bubba'. I don't know how to act like a Bubba. I admit, I'm a bit of a hillbilly, but I don't know anyone named Bubba. I guess if you know how to act like a Bubba- go for it!
June 2 is also Rocky Road Day. The day to celebrate Rocky Road ice cream-although apparently, eating any kind of ice cream is acceptable. That's good! I don't care for Rocky Road, but could definitely go for some ice cream tonight. The past couple of nights, I had a mix of coffee ice cream and cookies & cream. But Erich ate the last of the cookies & cream last night and didn't buy more. How rude! :)
Since I often annoy my non-sports readers with posts about sports, I feel a duty to point out that on this day in 1935, Babe Ruth retired from baseball. It is also the day the American Civil War ended, in 1865. In 1989, 'Dead Poet's Society' was released in limited theaters. That is one of my favorite movies! I know, I have a lot of favorites. I have liked Dead Poet's Society since I was in high school. Boys liking English- it was wonderful! My favorite character of course is Neil, the tormented soul who ends up taking his life. I haven't seen that movie in a while, wonder if I have time to watch it tonight? I just might!
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A Year of Blogging: June 1, 2011
We've made it to June. We are almost halfway through this experiment. And we have made it to one of my favorite months.
I think June is one of my favorites because I'm a June baby. When June 1 rolls around, my birthday is just around the corner. What's not to love about your birthday?
June is a month of many celebrations. It is Aquarium Month, Candy Month, Dairy Month, Gay Pride Month, and National Fresh Fruits and Vegetables Month. There are celebrations that make you scratch your head such as 'National Fight the Filthy Fly Month', 'Accordion Awareness Month', and 'Turkey Lover's Month' (which I certainly would have thought would be November. When I think of Turkey, I think of Thanksgiving which is in November- unless you're Canadian). June is also Rose Month, which seems appropriate- as Rose is the flower for those born in June.
I feel very lucky to have a June birthday. It's between spring and summer. Mud season is past, but it's nice enough to wear shorts and sandals. You can have birthday parties outside (well, unless you are Little Rain Cloud and it rains on your parties). In New York, school lets out near the end of June. I could still have birthday celebrations in school. Flag Day falls in June (another of my favorites). It seems to be the best time!
June's birthstone is the Pearl. You can substitute Moonstone or Alexandrite for the Pearl. The substitutes are a pinky-purple, although Alexandrite can come in many colors, and can change colors. I like that it's dynamic: like me. But I love pearls. Pearls are very fragile, so you have to be careful with them. I wasn't allowed to have them as a child. I think I was 12 or 13 before I had my first set of pearls (other than my baby pearls, which were put up). I asked my grandparents for pearls for my birthday. I received a necklace and bracelet set that was a double strand of freshwater pearls with gold braided between the pearls. I also received a 'real' set of pearls. I felt so sophisticated and grown up!
The birth flower for June is the Rose. My favorite flowers! I wonder- if my favorite flowers are roses because I was born in June, or if it's just a coincidence. For years, my parents gave me pink roses for my birthday. Even as young as 10, I was getting roses for my birthday. Sometimes it was an arrangement with pink roses added to it, and sometimes it was a bouquet of just roses. My mother has continued it, if I'm not in NY for my birthday, I get flowers delivered to my house or work. If I'm in NY, she has flowers in my bedroom. I love the little things that turn into traditions!
Yes, it was good to be a June baby. Roses and pearls. Some of my favorite things. Of course, I don't know if the males born in June think it's as wonderful!
Today, June 1 is Dare Day. It's a day to dare yourself or someone else. It's also Flip a Coin Day. If you have a decision to make, just flip a coin!
I'm looking forward to seeing the wonderful things we will celebrate in June (my birthday not excluded!).
A Year of Blogging: May 31, 2011
May 31 was 'World No Tobacco Day'. The day was created by the World Health Organization in 1987, and first celebrated on April 7, 1988. In 1988, a resolution was passed to have World No Tobacco Day always fall on May 31.
The idea is that this day will be used to tell people of the dangers of tobacco. Of course, it is also hoped that this increased awareness would cause people to quit.
I think, everyone should have to watch the commercials that New York State puts out. I get to see them when I watch the baseball games on YES, or when I'm at my mom's. The commercials are graphic and disturbing. There's one where someone is squeezing the stuff out of an artery, and telling you this is what builds up while you are smoking. There's also one of open heart surgery. They hit the target for shock value. There are also sad commercials. One that has been playing recently is a young boy, playing catch in the driveway. When the camera pans back, you see he has a glove taped to the garage door, and the voice-over talks about what are you missing by smoking. You're led to believe the boys father died because of his smoking. It is sad.
I personally, have never used tobacco, so I don't know how hard it is to quit. This is one time that allergies made me lucky. I am allergic to cigarette smoke, so there was never a chance I was going to try it. And luckily for my parents- I went to one college party, and just the smell of pot made me so sick I went running for the comfort of my dorm.
If you do use tobacco, maybe now is a good time to consider quitting. The whole world is pulling for you today!
A Year of Blogging: May 30, 2011
May 30 was Memorial Day. For my non-US readers, Memorial Day is the day set aside to honor those who have died serving our country. I really feel so many people have lost the meaning of Memorial Day.
It is often referred to as the 'unofficial start of summer'. It's a rare three day weekend, and people make plans to go to the lake, have a family reunion, cook food on the grill, and relax. While I enjoy my three day weekend, I also remember why I have a three day weekend.
My hometown has a Memorial Day parade every year. The Memorial Day parade is shorter than the 4th of July parade. There are no floats. There were a couple of antique cars (all owned by the same guy- I loved his car collection!), the school band, some horses, and marching groups. The firemen marched. The American Legion marched. The parade started at one of the churches near our house, and went down Main Street, stopping at the monument to honor the soldiers of the community. A prayer is said at the monument while the Color Guard places a wreath. Then the parade continues through town, ending at the cemetery. Taps is played and guns are fired in salute. The Memorial Day parade always had a more somber feel than the 4th of July parade. We all knew why we were there.
There were two parts of the parade I loved. The American Legion always sold the red poppies, and Dad bought each of us one every year. Once I was old enough to carry a purse, I wound the wire of the poppy around the strap of my purse, and carried it until the poppy disintegrated. It served as a reminder to me of the cost of freedom.
The other part of the parade that I enjoyed was the Color Guard. Here were friends and neighbors, people we went to church with, saw every day in town, or babysat their children. Yet they were also veterans. To see them dressed in their military dress uniforms was breathtaking. Sure, in our small town, the Color Guard members were always the same five men. But it still made an impression; hit home for me.
In February, when I was home for Grandma's funeral, I heard Grandpa telling some of my younger cousins about his time in the Navy. They seemed surprised to hear Grandpa had been in the Navy. I wondered how they could not have known this. No person's service should be viewed as so insignificant that their family doesn't know about it.
Thank you to all of my friends and family who have protected the USA. Your time and sacrifice are appreciated, and may we never forget how lucky we are.
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