While I'm Here, Doctor....

I am not posting my normal musings today, not a complaint about "manners" nor a bewildered posting about a successful recipe.

Today I am writing to request that you, my Dear Friends and Indulgent Readers: Please get yourself and your family tested for Diabetes!

Type One or Type Two, it doesn't matter, they're both bad. They can both result in kidney failure, blindness, heart disease/ attacks, high blood pressure, circulatory problems - including amputation.

I know that October is traditionally "Boob Month", but while you are at the Dr. getting your annual exam and the prescription for the mammogram, ask him to test you for Diabetes. He or she or the Phlebotomist should do a simple finger prick to measure your blood sugar. It will take a few seconds, and it could save your life.

If you do have diabetes, I would like you to know that it is not the end of the world. You will have to watch your intake of sugars as well as carbs. You will need to educate yourself about Diabetes and the treatment plan that is best for you.

You will need to find an endocrinologist.  Even though you love your regular physician, he or she is not necessarily educated in the cutting edge, up to date treatment you will want. In addition, your endocrinologist's office most likely employs a nutritionist who can help you establish a meal plan that will help you, and your family, to handle the change.

My family has lived a pretty normal life with Diabetes for forty years. You can, too.

Thank you for getting checked!

A Lesson in Gratitude

I'm sure that, just like I did, all of you greeted the new school year with joy, sorrow, relief and dread.

Joy for some quiet time and possibly relief from additional day care costs.

Sorrow for that youngest baby who started kindergarten or High School, or whom you last saw through your tears and the rear view mirror as you drove away from their college dorm.

Relief from the "craft days" that resulted in more glue on your velvet sofa in the living room (into which Absolutely No One went that day, cross our hearts!) than on the macaroni and paper for which it was meant. Or the extra food bills because ya gotta feed those kids and they have friends....big ones. And they know you have food....

Dread because of the upcoming birthday parties that they might not be invited to, the teams they won't get selected for, the prom dates, and the homework... oh my God the homework....

My MiniMe started High School the other day. Her first day of High School was her first day of public school, her first day in a grade that had more than 25 kids in it (380 kids in her Freshman class), first school day not wearing a uniform, her first ride on a school bus - ever.

She got a weird elective that is an introduction into the school's "career track", she didn't get the Latin class she wanted (gee, public school, thanks for the heads up on that one - not), she got an AP class for history (I didn't know they did that for Freshman - but thanks for the College Credit!).

She's adjusting... we're adjusting....

I know for sure that the DogMan is happy to be back to his morning Dog Park schedule with our regular posse! There have been a few changes there, too.... Dog Man doesn't get to see his friend, Mac, because his owner gets out later in the day than she has the last few years. Blonde Maggie has been "replaced" by Little Maggie because Blonde Maggie comes earlier, and Little Maggie comes with her owner after dropping her Boy at school.  Little Maggie's friend, Tula, has joined us as well, which is great. Her mom is totally cool... and Wiley is still as crazy as ever and with his super cool mom who is just as in awe of some of the stuff that goes on around here as I am...

Ofcourse the human Dog Park Posse pretty much echoes the Dog Pack.... we stand around and talk about our kids, parenting our parents, parenting our children, how are we going to pay for college, whose kid got what teacher and are they horrible or are they great....

So, as our school year has settled in, the Human Posse has started checking in with one another... "How was that parent coffee? How many of those damned things can one person go to?", "How is the new school/ teacher?"....

So far, everyone is up beat and off to a good start. One 5th grader is overwhelmed by the size of her class, but the school is being proactive. My MiniMe is busy getting back into the swing of things and relearning the meaning of time management (no, you do not have 6 hours of homework), as well as getting used to a new environment, a new school format and did I mention: NO UNIFORM!

Two of the Human Posse started to talk to each other about "IEP", "504" and "Whether it's time to get an advocate", or "Hey, first time ever! PPT went well! No one cried!".... and these parents - members of our human "pack - told the rest of us a little bit about their incredible children, who have challenges that none of the rest of us have ever had to deal with.

The learning and communication disabilities, the physical challenges, the arguing with the school, while trying to seem like you are on their side, just to get your kid a place at the desk.

And I realized that it was time to take a lesson in gratitude for just how lucky I am as a Mom (I really am, you should meet the MiniMe - Best. Kid. Ever.), how lucky she is as a kid.

So, I'm going to try to take a step back from being annoyed at the idea of MiniMe making cupcakes in Foods & Nutrition this semester, and the fact that she didn't get the Latin class that she wanted.

I'm going to dry the homework tears and not worry too much about the start of the year blues and confusion,
And I'm going to be thankful that MiniMe has the ability to do most things for herself, and the ability to communicate (whether or not I like what is being communicated!), and the ability to be successful at school and in life.

Fleece or Fleeced?

Someone! Please, tell me! What has happened to FLEECE!!!???

Remember way back when, in the late 80's or early '90's when either Land's End or L. L. Bean introduced us to the new and innovative fabric called fleece? Remember?!


Fleece started out light,warm and, well, it looked bulky but it really wasn't...

Fleece was fleece back then. Actually, back then, it was all Polartec. And it was all produced at Malden Mills in Lawrence, Massachusettes, by "The Mensch of Malden", Aaron Feuerstein.  You might remember that, in 1995, Mr. Feuerstein shot to fame for doing the right thing.  A fire gutted Malden Mills, ceasing production of Polartec and put 1500 people out of work.

At that point, Mr. Feurestein could have chosen to move production to Asia and shut down the local, now ruined, mill.  He didn't, though.... He repaired, rebuilt, and retooled - all the while paying his employees their regular salary and their medical insurance.  Mike Wallace featured Mr. Feuerstein on the TV Show "60 Minutes" because of this, and when he asked Mr. Feuerstein why he had continued to pay his  employees during the "hiatus", Mr. Feuerstein answered "Because it is the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do." Today, those words usually mean "The right thing to do for me" or "for my company" or "for the bottom line". How often these days do businesses - big businesses - do the right thing for their employees?

But I digress...

 In the beginning fleece was one weight. There were a few "bejeweled" shades of color, mostly trimmed in different a "bejeweled" accent color.  There was one fit.  It was warm, it was soft and comfy. It was like wearing your favorite childhood "woobie" (no relation to the Sahalie catalog's uber soft garment) out in the open.

Sure, there were some challenges at first.
Everyone looked like an oompah-loompah because the bottom was trimmed with some elastic-y trim to keep it at your waist, rather than being hemmed so it might fit in a more flattering fashion.

Fleece was static-y as all get out! If you had long hair, it was always sticking up or flying away or, if a hair fell out, it gathered like birds nests in your fleece-y armpits. Try to kiss a fleece wearing friend and the two of you could end up with 2nd degree burns and a black out in the neighborhood.

Fleece could go from soft and smooth as your favorite blanket to shag rug rag in one wash, it attracted lint like a pair of black velvet pants in a white cat household. Once you figured out that the best way to wash it is to turn it inside out, do up any zippers or snaps, and toss it in, that challenge was conquered and you were good to go.


People started to want more from their fleece. They wanted the garment to be windproof, weather resistant, less bulky, more colors, warmer, cooler.  Different manufacturers started using the fabric in different ways - lining jackets, outerwear "systems" (the multi layer garments where the fleece and other layers zip or button together, becoming more than one garment). Making it thinner, making it thicker... Making it out of recycled plastic soda bottles.

"Premium brands" like Helly Hansen, Marmot, and The North Face are other brands that offer fleece for "high performance" if you don't mind paying more and acting as a walking bill board. My hot pink Helly Hansen fleece is great, but it's made for the dog park - not the board room.

The stores have given us what we asked for - or have they?  The last several fleece garments that I have purchased have been almost weightless.  The fabric is so thin that it's nearly opaque.  I bought an "active wear" fleece that turned out to be what I call "1/2 fleece" - the fuzz is only on the exterior, it's uber thin, and offers almost no insulation whatsoever.

I've purchased several fleece quarter zips for my husband, who often gets cold, only to receive the exact same garment with a different label in it. The material is too light and thin, the weave too loose to provide the desired insulation. In other words - he's still cold!

So, where is it? Where is the fleece we all know and love? Why has fleece become difficult to figure out? At the end of the day, I'm looking for a warm, comfortable, not terribly unflattering fleece to wear. WHY CAN'T I FIND IT????

Recipes - To Share or Not to Share????

I just finished reading the book "Angelina's Bachelors" by Brian O'Reilly.  It was a quick read/ chick lit/ mind candy book that I didn't love, but didn't dislike. It took me all of overnight to read.. I'll review it more in depth another time though, because this post isn't really about the book. It's about the question.

Normally, I don't go to the back of a book and read the "Book Club Discussion Points" because I don't belong to a book club and if I like a book enough, I don't need the publisher telling me how to discuss it. I will already have plenty to say.

In this case, I just happened to flip to the back and one question caught my eye: "Angelina is furious when Amy passes off a store bought cake as her own. Why does this anger [Angelina] so much? How would you have reacted?"

Now, this is no spoiler, so you won't mind my posting it here.  The scene is set pretty clearly and it's a minor scene in the book.

But the question - as well as the passage in the book - reminded me of something that happened many years ago and  I wonder why I still remember it. And why it still bothers me.

When we were first married, Big Daddy and I became friendly with another couple in our neighborhood. We'll call them Martha and Jack.

Young couples just starting out were a rarity in the 'hood, so it was nice to have someone else to hang with.  Martha and I did small decorating projects together (small as in re upholstering a tag sale sofa using 1/2 price fabric, a glue gun and a staple gun), and Jack and Big Daddy would figure out how to patch our stucco houses, change exterior porch lights, caulk bath tubs, or assemble grills.

We thanked each other for the free labor and creative input by cooking for one another at the end of the project or the day.  On "Grill Assembly Day" we were promised ribs, but due to technical issues (not reading the directions) we got pizza. That's one day that I was truly disappointed.

When I have people to dinner, I frequently serve a dessert that we call "Wedding Pie" as that was the desert at Big Daddy's and my wedding.  It's tasty, easy and refreshing. I'm waffling on giving out that recipe... you'll see why....

So, I cooked for Martha and Jack a few times and they - like everyone - loved this dessert.  Martha asked me for the recipe, which I happily gave to her without a second thought. Our friendship and co-opting of talents continued, and we all made more and more friends and acquaintances around the neighborhood.

About a year or so after befriending Martha and Jack, another couple that we'd gotten to know invited us to a lovely cookout.  I offered to bring something and the hostess asked if I would bring a salad.  Sure! No problem! Happy to help!

I went to the store, bought a couple of bags of salad, some tomatoes, a can of artichokes, a can of hearts of palm, a bag of croutons and some dressing. It was unremarkable but easy and it was what the hostess had asked for. I threw it in a bowl and bopped on over to my friends' soiree.

I went to put my unremarkable salad on the buffet as directed by the hostess, and.... my oh my, encountered what looked like 3 wedding pies! huh. To be honest, I was a little stunned. I was seeing Wedding Pies but they weren't Wedding Pies because I did not make them. Who made them? Who made Wedding Pie?

Yes, you probably guessed it several paragraphs ago; Martha had gladly volunteered to make the pies.

Now, Martha wasn't bad at making those pies.  They were just as good as mine... after all, it was my recipe. The one I got from my Mother, who is the person that made all of those Wedding Pies for my Wedding Day and many other occasions.

To be honest, Wedding Pie is a fruit tart for which I'll bet the recipe was found in a magazine many many years ago. However, the fact that I had never, ever encountered anyone outside my family who actually makes that exact pie..... sniff... that couldn't mean anything, could it???

 I do feel the need to point out that Martha used a frozen topping, not the fresh whipped cream that I always make to go with Wedding Pie.

20+ years later, though,what I think about is the fact that while the pies were praised high and low and around the world by the rest of the guests, Martha never let on that it wasn't her recipe, but did admit it was the first time she'd used it.  She was very coy while accepting praise and compliments. I heard her once claim that it was "a family recipe". She just didn't say whose family.

I stood there and watched. She saw me watching. She didn't acknowledge a thing to me and I didn't say a word about it to her. I felt a wall go up between us.  I suppose that I could have "outed" her, but I chose not to. I'm not sure what that would have accomplished.

After that, I started to notice a trend of similar inconsistencies in Martha's manner. Small non disclosures, half truths, dishonestys and omissions that just hinted at a much larger hole in the moral fiber of this supposed friend, than passing off a friend's simple recipe as her own.

Several weeks after that party, I was invited to another pot luck dinner and (cross my heart) without thinking, I volunteered to bring my "Wedding Pie".  I arrived with the pie and the fresh whipped cream - none of that frozen stuff.

When the dish appeared at the end of the meal another guest exclaimed "Oh, you made Martha's Pie!".  I felt a sensation in my scalp that made me think my hair had spontaneously combusted.  I felt my face freeze, I saw an unattractive shade of crimson and my neck hurt from the way my head whipped around to address the speaker.

I responded "Oh, I hope you like it! We had it at our wedding instead of cake... I guess Martha liked it, too!".  I said nothing more about it, just hoped that the message was clear.

Time moves on and here I am, 20 years later. Though I haven't been in contact with Martha and Jack for at least 15 of those years, I still remember this incident and I have to say that, when the memory is tickled up from the back of my brain, I wonder why. Why do I remember it? Why does it still annoy me? And mostly..... what is Martha doing with my recipe????

Stuffed Clams a la Gaga - and my First Ever Giveaway!!!

I'm giving complete credit for this recipe to my Gaga, who cooked everything for us that was ever worth eating. She made these stuffed clams every 4th of July.

The stuffed clams, fresh out of the oven, fragrant with sage and butter and clams, each contained in it's own real clam shell, were the highlight of our annual family 4th of July at my Grandparents' house on the lake.  These clams are one of those foods of summer. The kind of food that got the kids out of the water, the Moms out of the kitchen, and the Dads away from the explosive devices. Serious 4th of July food.

Every summer, Big Daddy, MiniMe and I spend 2 weeks by the sea. Usually, we are there in June, after school lets out and before the tourists descend.  This year, end of school was delayed because the beginning of school was delayed, so we had 4th of July in the middle of our vacation.


Fourth of July 2012 was Big Daddy's and my 20th Wedding Anniversary.  Where, did the time go?  We don't look all that different from the day we pledged our troth (ok, I admit, different glasses and color from a bottle). It feels like it was just last week.... 

Because we were going to be on vacation, because it was our anniversary, and because we felt like it, we decided to have a 4th of July party. A real party. We still did the cooking and decorating and cleaning up, but we had invites printed with a "RSVP" which we sent to most of our friends, old and new.

Though I had never made Gaga's stuffed clams before, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to try them. They were a hit! I didn't have the quahog shells, like Gaga had, but I made do with some scallop shells I found on the docks where the local scallop fishermen dump them on a regular basis.

Here's the recipe. I hope you have a summer party for which you can make them, too!  Or, if you are feeling beachy this Christmas, maybe they'd make a good appetizer for your holiday feast.

Please don't ever admit that there are no fresh clams in this recipe. I never have and I never will!

Oh, and warning - this recipe's got some Paula Deen amount of butter in it so beware!

You will need:
1 15oz Can Clam Chowder not "Ready to Eat"(Gaga used Campbell's which I couldn't find. I used 1/2 can Chunky brand)

1 Can Progresso White Clam Sauce

1 16oz box Ritz Crackers

1/2 C Parsley finely chopped

1 egg

1tsp ground Sage

Pepper

Paprika

1 Stick Butter

1) Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F and place the rack just above the middle position -NOT at the broil position!

2) Remove sleeves of crackers from the box and roll and crush them to bits before opening packages and dumping into a medium bowl with the Clam Chowder. Using an electric mixer, mix cracker crumbs and chowder until they come together

3) Add the White Clam Sauce, the Pepper, the Parsley, and the Sage and mix thoroughly. The mixture will have the consistency and appearance of oatmeal. Don't hold it against me. I promise you, it will taste better than it looks at this point. PROMISE!!!

4) Spoon the mixture into individual clam shells or scallop shells, if you can find them. The amount of stuffing per shell depends on the size of the shell. I used an ice cream scoop to fill the scallop shells.  Put about 1/4 Tbsp of butter on each clam (1/2 Tbsp for scallops), then sprinkle with Paprika. Place them all on a baking sheet - it's ok if they are crowded.

5) Pop clams into the preheated oven and Bake 5-6 minutes for clam shells, I baked the scallops for 10 - 12 minutes. The tops will be nicely golden brown when ready. If you aren't sure, poke a fork into the biggest, fattest one and make sure the fork comes out hot. 


Eat 'em up with a fork and a smile!!


ENJOY!!!


Disclaimer:  I have no commercial, personal or impersonal relationship with any of the above referenced brand names. They don't know me from Adam!


I used about 10-12  large scallop shells (6 ins across) or maybe 20-24 large clam shells for the above recipe. Be prepared to replace the shells every so often. They get thrown out by mistake, taken home as a souvenir of a great day, or sometimes (ew) used as an ashtray.  The edges of the shells can be fragile, so they break easily as well.

When you get them home, scrub the shells with whatever you use to scrub a pot, then run them through the dishwasher. You can put them in the silverware basket if they won't stay in the racks.
If you get scallop shells, they should be about the size of a cocktail plate - put them in the top rack.

I know you are going to want to know - "WHERE DO I GET SHELLS????" If you aren't by the sea or near a fishing port, find a raw bar or a sea food market and ask if you can have a bunch of their cast off shells.  

Giveaway: Because my collection of shells is readily replenished, because it's Tuesday, and because I've never done it before, I will give 8 of my Scallop Shells to a randomly selected entrant.

Or, if there's only one entrant, they get it. US shipping addresses only, please!


Just leave a creative comment below by next 11:59 PM Tuesday, July 31, 2012! I will announce the winner on Wednesday, August 1st.


May the odds be forever in your favor!

I'm Back!

Wow, I can not believe I last posted on May 31! How can I make it up to you? I'd invite you over for tea but it's like Hell outside, so we should all stay in our airconditioned pods for the time being!

All I can tell you is that Memorial Day hit and all Heck broke loose in the GruvE World.  Not in a bad way, just in an end of the school year/ summer's here/ let's renovate the house way... Yikes... I'll post more individually but here are some of the highlights of the last 2ish months

Father's Day - This entails not one but 2 weekends of Father related events as I invite my Dad to have a special day the week before FD, so Big Daddy can have a special day with just his girls

End of School - Field Day which was postponed twice then cancelled due to weather.

Eighth Grade Class Night - MiniMe's class served and cleared at this annual celebration it was one night  so why did it seem to take up so much of my time???

Final Exams - I didn't take them but again, where did my time go?

Splash into Summer - FINALLY the last day of school came - 10 days later than originally scheduled, what with unusual August hurricanes and October blizzards - On the last day of school, I loaded up the Subaru "Animal House" style with MiniMe's classmates and we headed home for a day of splashing. She has a tiny class - 19 kids so I wasn't over whelmed. I hired a lifeguard to guard their lives and they played a wild game of ... you won't believe it ... Duck, Duck, Goose. I kid you not.

2 days later, we left for our family vacation - 2 weeks of living by the sea. Fortunately, we have amazing, happy and wonderful new neighbors. Unfortunately, they celebrated the purchase of their new home with a complete renovation - just like the amazing, happy and wonderful new neighbors we have at home.  My vacation was filled with the same construction sounds as my life has been full of for a year.

We took 2 of MiniMe's friends with us.... wow.... teenage dynamics and spending time with other people's children.

4th of July - my favorite Holiday! Celebration of all that is good and wonderful - our country!  Also my 20th wedding anniversary. Where did the time go? WHERE??? We had a fun get together with friends old and new. It was a PERFECT DAY!

Home from vacation and MiniMe and I packed up (again) and took off for an Alaskan cruise with GrandMa for her annual "Grandma's Great Adventure". This is usually a trip for just GrandMa and MiniMe but this year, Auntie and GruvEmom decided we needed to be there! Our motto for the trip: "Social Selectivity is not an Anti Social behavior!"

Remind me to tell you about the Alaskan activities and shopping that I liked!

Why does Harry Styles wear a beanie?

Home from the cruise and 1 meeting with Project Manager for our Siding/windows/ insulation - more on that later, 1 appointment at the Orthodontist (yeesh - 2 more in August) 1 meetup with my Aunt to send GrandMa onto the next leg of her trip.

Monday the Contractors show up - It has come to my attention that I signed a contract with them that allows them to be at my house from 7 am to 7 pm 7 days a week - to replace the windows/ siding and insulation in My Old House. What was I thinking? Next time I'm buying a condo.

Books Read:"Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children", "The Icing on the Cupcake", and "The Flight of Gemma Hardy".  Reviews on those eventually!

Ok, so I have to get to work, take the kid who has a cough to the Pediatrician because ofcourse we were in the North West for all of 10 seconds and now we find out that there is a huge outbreak of Whooping Cough up there.

Pray for me. Or light a candle. Or just give me an extra 6 hours in every day. I need a nap!

My Day in "The Preppy Handbook"

(Updated 4/12/2013)

Have you ever had an experience that was sort of like an out of body experience but not really?
An experience that, at one point or another, left you thinking or saying: "Wow. This stuff really does happen!"?  Like a scene from a movie or a play, or maybe you meet someone who reminds you of a character from a book, or someone whom your grandparents knew when you were growing up.... "Whoa, that guy was Charlie Chesley reborn!".


Every once in a while, MiniMe will get a many labeled package that was sent from some far corner of the known or unknown universe.  Puppets and theaters from Czechoslovakia, dirndles and skirts from Bavaria or a "rare" Webkin from Ebay - it can be like a scene out of "Mame". Sometimes I get a little worried when I see the boxes arrive.... remember when "Auntie Mame" sent her nephew, Patrick a GIANT hindu statue at his college fraternity?

I know my sister. You'd worry, too!

MiniMe is a member of a kids' philanthropic organization. I'm so proud of her!  When asked, I took on a "Senior" roll with MiniMe's branch of the organization.  I don't get to stand in the rain at 8am on a Saturday like a Soccer Mom, but I do have to smile and look pretty for formal dances that start at 12:30AM.

This is not easy after a full day of driving to the event, several hours of business meetings and a marathon banquet, but I try to do it in style... I really do!

But I digress....

Who remembers "The Preppy Handbook" by Lisa Birnbach? 1982?

Anyone? Anyone? (and who gets THAT reference???)

As you may recall, I live in the Ground Zero, Preppicenter of the universe. Yes, Muffy, I see you over there in the corner! Where DID you get those whale pants?!

I was asked to make a presentation about MiniMe's group, in hopes of increasing membership at a newer branch of the group in a nearby community.

Today, I went to do my best at a lunch meeting that was held at a local Country Club.

Let's review the major talking points:  Preppicenter, Lunch Meeting, Country Club.

I think you are with me. Are you with me?

I sat between 2 lovely women. Bitsy and Winkie.

It IS 2012, isn't it? Because I'm telling you, I am pretty sure I stepped back into 1984.

No, I"m not kidding.

I'm not. Seriously!

Don't ever doubt me. I'm too busy to lie to you, I swear!

I wore my patch madras dress (from L.L. Bean) with a pink cashmere cardigan tied around my neck and carried my Vineyard Vines bag. I have never missed my Bermuda Bag so much! You remember those - wood handles, color/outfit coordinating changeable covers that buttoned on? Don't worry, my shoes were black and close-toed. It is before Memorial Day, after all!

The ladies could not have been nicer or more open to hearing about MiniMe's group, the activities, the opportunities available to the kids and how their children (or grandchildren) might get involved.

All in all, it was a lovely day, but as I drove away from the club house, I swear I saw a woodchuck on the golf course and heard the theme song to "Caddy Shack"!

And was that Bill Murray, watering the plants at the end of the driveway?

On this day, April 12, 2013, let it be known that the "new ish" Purveyor of Preppy Paraphinalia, "Vineyard Vines Has resurrected that Bermuda Bag!!!  Let the Preppy Sun Shine! Let the Bells Ring! Let Angels Sing!
And PLeasePLEASE let Vineyard Vines make more covers!!!

New Department - What are You Reading?

I'm going to post another post about reading, later. The actual act of reading, I mean, not about books. Well, it will be about books, too, since that's what we're reading. That post was going to be this post, then I got into a riff and onto the music and let's just say it outgrew the purpose for which I am writing this post.

Yes, writing about reading. This post is about the books you are reading right now.

Right now I am reading: *note that I usually do have more than one book going at a time!
"Scorpion Betrayal" by Andrew Kaplan. It's a spy novel that Big Daddy picked up on his travels.  It's fairly compelling, and if you, like Big Daddy, like a good spy/ murder/ terror plot mystery, then I can recommend it.

"The Right to Write" by Julia Cameron. It's a lovely guide on how to write more and better by bringing more writing into your life. My good friend, cheerleader and proofreader, Lisa, sent it to me along with one of Julia's other books. They're fabulous!






 A good read that I recommend is:
"Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen - Fitzwilliam Darcy is THE MAN! As is Collin Firth. They are one.
"The Help" by Kathrine Stockwell - amazing
"Hunger Games" by Emily Siefe - If you haven't read it, you should.
"East of Eden" by Ernest Hemingway - Holy Moly - I read it twice, loaned it to a friend who read it twice, then I read it again.

Best
M

Cooking - Lazy Side Dishes

Hi All! My grocery store had Oven Stuffer Roasters on wicked sale this week, and with the early Spring like temps, I decided a roasted chicken was just what my family needs - the smell of the roasting chicken wafting through my house, the warm, buttery taste of a fresh from the oven chicken (as opposed to fresh from the grocery store roaster) with some some starchy, tummy filling sides. You know it. That's the stuff, isn't it?

So, I've had a bag of Prince Edward Island potatoes sitting on the counter for some time and I figured it was about time I cooked some of them before they sprout. Though I am a lover of potatoes in any form, MiniMe and Big Daddy are not fans of "mashers" and I really didn't feel like doing anything creative.

Here is what I do when I've got a hunk - o something roasting in the oven:

Prep time - 3 mins
Cook time - final 30 mins of whatever is roasting

Raw potatoes - enough for your crowd, depending on the size of the potatoes. and crows
Olive oil - Couple Tablespoons - Xtra Virgin, Never been a Virgin, Expensive, Store brand, Rachel Ray Brand, Italian, Spanish, Greek. I don't care. Whatever you've got
Seasoning of some kind - Tony Chachere's is my "go to", Salt & Pepper with some Herbs de Provence, Italian Seasoning. To your taste.

Wash the raw potatoes and leaving the skin on, cut each potato in half, then quarters then 16ths you should have chunks that are about 1 inch.

Put the chunks in a bowl and drizzle with the olive oil - swirl it all around so potatoes are coated.

Sprinkle with your seasoning of choice (I suggest at least Salt and Pepper). If you are using Tony Chachere's, sprinkle it on, then give it a couple more shakes of the stuff in honor of my Bestie Charlotte.

Swirl the potatoes around in the stuff till they seem coated.

Open oven and carefully so you don't go burning yourself, pour the potatoes into the bottom of the roasting pan. Shake the pan so the potatoes all get down to the bottom of the pan.  If you are a bad, bad, naughty person and don't care about the grease, feel free to put a few potatoes in the cavity of the chicken. Don't stuff it though!

Close the oven. Whew! put the bowl in the sink.
Sit down and go online and look at Charlotte's website. Use the link at the bottom of my blog.
You are welcome!

Potatoes are done when they are tender to a fork. Hopefully, this will be at the same time as the chicken!

Come back and post your version/ recipe

Gruve on!

Product Review - Oxyclean - It's the Stuff!

You know all those crazy commercials for stuff you've never seen in stores? "But wait! There's more!". Yeah, those commercials. The ones that made the late Billy Mays famous. They spawned "As Seen on TV" stores in shopping malls in the '90's, which morphed into large sections of Walgreen's and Walmart (or Wally Whirled as we call it) Stores today.  Some of that stuff is great! Just ask my sister about her Pajama Jean addiction.

The first of these adds that I paid attention to were for Oxyclean. It was Pre MiniMe and the ads for this magic powder seemed to air non-stop and always at a much louder volume than the program we were actually watching.  I mean, do you remember how the blood, grass stains, mustard and dirt just disappeared from the shirts and jeans? What about the red wine stains on the carpet? Not to mention how "Grandma's" yellowed old lace curtains turned white again? Could this stuff really work?

A couple of years after Oxyclean became a part of our evening viewing fodder, Big Daddy and I renovated our Master Bathroom. Renovated is a relative term, as what really happened is that I woke up in the middle of the night to find that the dining room ceiling (located directly below the Master Bath) was on the dining room floor, and water was pouring out of the gaping hole.

As part of the renovation, we had the lower part of the  bathroom walls and the shower area tiled in beautiful, hand glazed, Portuguese tile. I know. We didn't know any better. I'm not sure we were even 30 at the time. The tile performed well. It looked nice, but it didn't look the kind of nice that makes the bather think: "Wow, that white tile is BEAUTIFUL! Extravagant! So luxurious!".  It was more the kind of nice that looked like "I wonder where they bought the tile?.". feh!

A couple of years later, Big Daddy was complaining about the grout being stained. He went on and on about the staining of the grout. Then he started complaining that I might not be cleaning the tile correctly.

"Really?", I"m thinking. "Are ya sure you want to go there, Bucko? Cuz I got some Clorox spray anna toothbrush with your name on it.   That it's actually your toothbrush is something else all together!", but I digress....

So, one day, I'm at the grocery store, looking for some magical cleaning agent that will get the grout and tile the way Big Daddy thinks they should look, and I spy this blue canister on the shelf. Yes, you know it! It was a canister of Oxyclean!  And it was cheap!

I bought that powder, I took it home, I set it on the counter for Big Daddy to see when he got home. You know what his reaction was?! He picked it up, read the canister, said "huh". Put it down, and while walking away says "Hope it works out.".

Really. Big Daddy. He lives dangerously. On the edge, you might say.  Some day I'll tell you the OTHER part of our "Going Home" story. The one where he left for his new job 2 weeks before the movers came. Sorry, I know. "Focus"!

So the Oxyclean went beneath the kitchen sink.

Meanwhile - you're going to love this - the next time I cleaned the shower tile... I really looked at it.  It just didn't seem like a stain. We didn't have a mold issue. It looked more... red... beneath the glaze of the tile. So, I go down to the garage, where we put the extra 3 boxes of the stuff because we were so afraid we wouldn't have enough. Actually the contractor was more concerned that we wouldn't have enough.... hmmm... Anyway, I open the box and I realize that our gorgeous, hand glazed Portuguese tile was a white glaze, over... are ya ready? Hand over your mouth?

TERRACOTTA!!! It wasn't a red stain or an algae or a mold IT WAS CLAY!!! There was no actual stain in the very clean. Ok, occasionally clean, shower. sigh.

The Gruve was feeling a mite out of sorts after that, so she indulged in a bit of chocolate. Which got on her shirt, which GruvEmom then threw in the wash, and then dried. And now she had a D-A-M-N-E-D chocolate stain on her white shirt! Ooohhhh!!! Somehow this was all Big Daddy's fault!

Then, a little bell went off... Oxyclean... could it be as good as it says? Is it really the magic laundry elixir that Billy Mays promised it would be? I decided to check it out.  I read the directions on the canister. I opened the canister. I gave the white and blue powder the side eye. I read the directions again. I heated up a couple of cups of water in the microwave. I added the prescribed amount of Oxyclean to the hot water. I mixed it. Then I poured it on the stain, right there on the counter top. I gave it the side eye then I walked away.

Ten minutes later, as I breezed through the kitchen to get a Diet Coke from the fridge, I passed by my little experiment and couldn't resist a look at the progress. Well my, my, MY! The stain was GONE!  It works!

Since then, there is a little bit of Oxyclean in every load of laundry and a "Club Size" canister of the stuff lives on top of my dryer with the lingerie bags and the Tide. I have a clean bucket that I soak the biggest, baddest of stains in - somtimes for days.  I almost never need, use or buy bleach anymore so no crazy bleach stains on any of my laundry and I understand that's a good thing, as I now have a septic system.

Now Oxyclean doesn't know about me, and I don't work for them, but it puts the Groove in this GruvEmom's laundry day, so I just wanted to tell ya all about it!  Try it! You'll love it!

One Important Question

Peeps or Cadbury Eggs or Snicker Eggs or Deviled Eggs or Egg Salad?

My answer: Peeps

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter to One and All!

On occasion, I check "the stats" for my Blog and I see that people have checked in from Guam, Russia, The USA of course, Germany, the UK, and I think we had one from New Zealand one time. I hope you are all having a beautiful day.

Big Daddy and I spent last evening at a show in The Big City. It was a slightly belated celebration of my B-day and pneumonia or not, I was going to go! The only down side was that we had a very enthusiastic "Woo Boy" sitting behind us. And he was really getting into it. I gave him the side eye and I think he understood that "it was on". He tamed right down, fortunately for him.

On the up side, I overheard him asking his companion if he could "tag" her on his Facebook.  With the number of FB friends I have who tag me, tag MiniMe, post the name of my town, or - worst of all - add me to secret societies and groups, I thought that his request was Basic Good Manners.

MiniMe spent the evening at home, coloring eggs and making pretty Easter cards for Big Daddy and me. I'm sure she spent some time surfing the web and hanging out on WebKinz. Now, Sugared up on her post Lenten Easter Bounty, she's running around singing a song from a TV ad. I don't know what the ad is for but it apparently consists of only the lyrics; "SUNSHINE AND LOLLIPOPS!!" MiniMe is quite enthusiastic.

Feeling much better this morning, I went out and showed another part of the garden my 'special kind of love'. Fortunately, the area I chose to harass wasn't a wide avenue like the Peonies so it took about 1/3 of the time.

Some of my friends may recall that, last Fall, I attacked the Roses. I cut first and asked questions later, so I was not convinced that they were coming back this year. After the beating I took from the thorns, I kind of hoped they wouldn't. Then, the other night, I looked outside, expecting to see the moonlight shining brightly on the yard and the stone wall at the back of the lower garden.

What I saw was some large, dark shapes, blocking the light of the moon reflecting off of the stones. I couldn't figure out quite what it was. I went back to bed and when I got up in the morning, I looked out again, to find in the light of day, that the Roses had burst back into life. Crud. Part of me was hoping that wouldn't happen. sigh. I cut away  A LOT more than what I'd taken last year, and, except for some hair pulling by a particularly resistant plant, all went well. I would like to say I've tasted victory, but we both know the truth of that.

Meanwhile, Big Daddy moved about 40 Hostas from on part of the yard to the base of the stone wall. Fingers crossed that it's shady enough for them! He's succeeded in eradicating  most of the Pachysandra from the back yard. Now he'll have to face the front yard where there must be a quarter acre of the stuff. I wish him luck with that!

The Value of a Great Garden Center

When we bought our home last May, many people familiar with the place kept telling us "You have no idea what you've got there.", and "Just wait until you see what you have, you just have no idea". We heard this to the point that we got just a little nervous.  Was there a subterranean, 50's era bomb shelter under the stepped lawn? Were there Doomsday Prepper propane tanks underground? Was the septic system a beard for a missile silo? What lurked beneath the pool?

It turned out that there are amazing, mature gardens, that bloom in waves of color all year long from the first of the Forsythia to the last of the Mums. The Forsythia are in full bloom now, despite Big Daddy's attempts to eradicate it along with his personal war on Pachysandra. There are many Daffodils and Tulips (which we didn't know were here) as well as the bulbs that MiniMe, Big Daddy and I planted last year.  Fortunately, they survived The Dog helping us.

In running about our usual life, and going to the Home Depot, we kept passing a small sign that attempted to direct the reader to "Reynolds Farms" just off the beaten path. We didn't give it much thought as we had just bought a house and it needed a lot of stuff, the 2 carts of stuff per Home Depot trip kind of needed.  If you are going to "The Depot" might as well pick up everything, instead of stopping at 2 places, right? Not so much!

We were thrilled to find Reynolds Family Farms last Fall.When we had our chimney lined , the Chimney Dudes had a lot to say about what kind of wood to burn. They had no confidence in me, whatsoever, since I'd lived in SoFlo for so long and had only ever bought either, a couple of those neatly wrapped "one evening" packages of wood or a Duraflame, from the grocery store. I got a lot of lectures: never burn pine, cardboard or wrapping paper, and by the way, get your wood at Reynolds Farms.

It was Autumn, and Big Daddy and I wanted to plant some new trees and shrubs, so we moseyed on down to check the farm out and see what bargains we might find during the upcoming clearance sale. Well, I can tell you, it's a great place. Family owned, family run, family staffed. And they all know what they're doing. And they're not afraid to tell you what to do if you don't know what you are doing, including telling you that you are doing it wrong!

I walked in one day, and explained to the very nice lady behind the counter that 1)we'd lived in the tropics for the last 20 years, 2) we bought a house with mature gardens and we weren't sure we knew everything that was there, 3) We were pretty sure that nothing had been fertilized in ages, 4) we wanted to add certain trees, which I knew the names of , but had no idea what they looked like or what they should look like, and 5) that I needed to "register" for firewood, as per the direction of the Chimney Dudes. 6) Oh, and I need some dirt, 4 yards? Delivered? 7)Oh, and we need to know how to prep our soil for the Blueberry bushes that Big Daddy had on order. The Blueberry bushes which he has dreamed about and tried to grow for 22 years.

She stared at me for a minute. I was a little afraid that her eyes were going to turn into cartoon dollar signs because, really, I'd laid all of my cards on the table. She heaved a big sigh, blinked her eyes and told the others behind the desk "Hold my calls, I'm going to be a while."  Other people might have been insulted but I had realized that I was going to need a complete "re assignment education" due to my change from Gardening Zone 11 to Zone 3 (I think we're a 3, anyway).

Nope just googled "What gardening Zone is my zip code". Turns out we're Zone 6b.

So, she and I set out for a tour of the trees that Big Daddy had written down. There were 3 of the Dwarf Cherries. None of them in great shape - not that I would have known - but my new friend said "I'm not selling you these. Go to another nursery or come back very early next Spring.". Now in my opinion, there is the sign of a good business. They have what you say you want, but because they wouldn't put it in their own garden, they don't want to sell it to you.  Right then, I felt a little more at home in my new community.

The kind lady walked me through the different kinds of  - I think it's sphagnum moss - that we needed to mix into the soil for the blueberry bushes. 2 bales, please! She also told me exactly how Big Daddy should mix it in and how deep he was going to need to go with it.  It sounded to me like a lot more work than Big Daddy was planning on, but these were his Blueberries and he'd waited 22 years for them.

She showed me where the fire wood was kept and explained the program - did I want to prepay 100 pieces then pick it up a few at a time or have it all delivered? Yes please, on account!

We reviewed the fertilizer that we should buy and use right then versus what we should add in the Spring. 2 bags, one of acid loving and one of nitrogen rich, went on the list, as did the 4 yards of dirt, to be delivered.

That was our big purchase, for last year anyway. I returned throughout the winter for firewood, and at Christmas time for some some decorations and small wreaths for the upstairs dormer windows.

Big Daddy and MiniMe spent the winter combing through seed catalogs for their long dreamed of vegetable garden. I understand that there are going to be Soy Beans (edemame), Onions (for pest control), Tomatoes (for me), Cucumbers, Jalapenos, Brussels Sprouts (yum), Corn, Honey Dew Melons, and I think more. Oh, don't forget the Cotton. Yes. Yes, really. I know.  No, I don't know.

The seeds have arrived, and many of them have been planted in small, reconstituted peat pellets, which are then placed in plastic trays with clear plastic tops for a green house effect. Some of them have even sprouted, the Brussels Sprouts and Cotton being in the lead.

I told Big Daddy that he could have 1/2 of the enclosed flower garden for his veggies. He advised me that the enclosed garden is the future site of his dreamed about Green House. The catalogs have begun to arrive.

Big Daddy spent a couple of days "relocating" the plants that I wanted to keep (Any bulbs, all of the Iris, and please move the Lavender), while getting rid of the rest (Oregano, Chives, Sage). Loosening and turning the soil as he went.

Yesterday, Big Daddy presented me with the first of what I'm quite sure will be many lists for Reynolds Farms this year.  Down I went, to gather the rest of the fire wood on our account, 5 bags (to start) of  compost/ peat moss mix, a large bag of fertilizer for the garden (along with directions on how and when to use it), a container of fertilizer for acid loving plants (not sure which ones those are - maybe the Snow Flower Hydrangea we planted last year?), and there was something else... oh, more hay for keeping weeds at bay. I hope. And a bag of fertilizer for my Peonies, whom I can hear screaming for food when I venture closely enough to their bed.

When I arrived at the nursery, I had expected Spring to be in full force. I thought the rows would be bursting with new trees and bushes and that there would be giant flats of plants, ready to go into the ground.  I was mighty surprised to see that the only thing on display was the Pansies!  It was quiet, as I guess garden centers are just before the end of the hard frost and the beginning of the real planting season, and I went into the shop in search of someone to help me.  There was a warm fire burning in the wood stove, and a buzz of activity at the counter with deliveries of dirt and turf being divvied up and assigned to different trucks and drivers.  A young lady offered to help me as I was wondering aimlessly, looking at all of the pretty stuff on display.

I could have gotten lost in all of that pretty stuff.

I asked about the fertilizer and the compost/ peat stuff and the wood and my Peonies who are starving for food (I'm sure they've suffered enough of my love and attention for this year), as well as the hay.

My friend from last year popped up from behind the counter, squinted at me a little, and turned to my garden center guide - "oh," she said "this lady lived in Florida and just moved here. You need to tell her everything and figure out what she's doing before you decide which stuff to give her. She's got Blueberries in one spot and Peonies in another."  She then turned to me and said "Do you want us to put the hay and wood in your car while you get the rest of this stuff?"

Yes, please!!!

So, while I may pay an extra $3 for a container of fertilizer, than I would pay at a "Big Box", the return is priceless. People who value my business, my time and my willingness to learn how to grow again. In every way.

I'm really happy to be home!

Just so Ya know

I just want to let you know that Big Daddy, MiniMe and I have returned from a no holds barred shopping trip to my favorite ever store - Job Lot - I just love Job Lot! If you spend $200 at the Job Lot, you better have a truck to take you home cuz sister (or brother), you cleaned that place out!

I even - hold yourselves, bargain afficianados - am on their e-mailing list of coupons, what's on special and "coming attractions".  They take manufacturer's coupons on top of that! Be still my parsimonious heart!

I got Peony rings for $2 ea, grass seed (URI #2) $5, laundry detergent $3.50, I could go on but I don't want you all to storm the place!

I discovered Job Lot when I was a college student. Christmas shopping was a dream! Tools for Dad, Books for Mom, make up for younger sister, reading glasses for the Grandparents.

I was just so excited by my bargains I just had to share. I hope you have a Job Lot near you!
Gruve

Oh What a Beautiful Day!

I love the changes in the seasons that come with living in New England, and Spring is bursting out all over. Maybe our mild winter was more like a prolonged, cold Spring, but the lawn is turning green again and the flowers are popping up. The sun is out the birds are singing and the dog can spend time out side, which makes everyone very, very happy. Particularly the dog.

In SoFlo, where the yard grows year round, gardening is WORK, and it's hot and sweatty, and I thanked God every week when the lawn service came and did the lawn, and the hedges before moving onto the rest of the neighborhood. Here, in New England, the chores vary with the season. By the way, I hate raking. I have never used so much effort and so much time to get so little done.  Shoveling snow is a little better, but not that much.

With the appearance of sunny skies and warming soil, there are a few outdoorsy type things that have been calling to me, so I've been a little more pro active in my out door activities.

Last weekend, as you may know, I decided to clean out my Peony bed which took about 2 hours longer than I thought it would. The Peonies are coming up and I have my fingers crossed for everything else that received a bit of my TLC. Please pray for the non weeds in my Peony bed.

Today temperatures are in the 60's, the sun is out, MiniMe's Spring Break starts, and we are looking forward to a weekend by the sea - during which I am going to try to figure out how to add pictures to this blog! Our friends, Mike and Colleen, will be dropping by for lunch on Saturday and I believe we are going to Paul's Pasta for lunch on Sunday, it being my Bday and all....but I digress...

The pool, which we originally thought was a large pond, will be open in a couple of weeks, so I took the opportunity to dump a couple of pounds of shock into its murky depths. The darn pool was crystal clear all winter. After a couple of days of warm weather; BANG, I've got thousands of gallons of pea soup. ick.

There are beautiful plantings in a big ring around the pool (hence the thought that it was a pond) and the Iris are coming up first, poking their pointed leaves out of the ground. The Hostas won't be far behind them. I'll let you know if anything else (other than the onion grass) comes to life, but the Hostas and the Iris are all that I recall... oh, there maybe some Tiger Lillies.... but I dont' remember.

In order to keep the weeds and grass at bay around the pool and its plants, the previous owners had put white marble chips down as ground cover. The marble chips hadn't been raked or cleaned or whatever one does to marble chips, so we bought many bags of marble chips at the season clearance sale at a local nursery last Fall (see Pound Ridge Nurseries) so I heeded the call of the 20 bags of stone that Big Daddy had placed out there a couple of weekends ago, and released them onto the plants. I hope the Iris recover!

I called the siding people to get some estimates to reside my shingle house. (Hold me! I'm scared!) And I look forward to replacing some of the old windows, as well as putting in some insulation.Yes, we're on the far side of winter and NOW I'm thinking about insulation. sigh. Thank goodness for the mild winter.

I'm also looking forward to redoing my Kitchen and Master Bathroom (both Circa 1948). I'm sure I'll be happy when it's all done!

Have a happy weekend!

Why I Can Not Stand Going to Church

First off, I have to say, I like my church. We have a beautiful church building, a nice parish, plentiful parking, convenient mass schedule, wonderful priests and a full house for just about every service. I have never attended a single church service or mass at our church and felt like the Priests were just "dialing it in". I find them to be present, timely, considerate with their homilies, and informed in their topics. Outside of mass, they are personable, warm, approachable, intelligent, humorous and generous with their time and counsel.

When I was growing up, I went to church mainly with my Grandparents, or with my Catechism group. We dressed appropriately and were expected to behave well, sit quietly, and read the hymnal or the weekly Church flyer if we were bored. Brothers and sisters fought or teased or taunted each other, but always at the risk of receiving "The Eye", or "The Pinch" or, worst of all ... to have to sit between the grownups.

Things have gotten very casual and contemporary in the... ahem... decade or two since then.  When we attended Services in our SoFlo community, we usually did so for the Service titled the "Family Mass".  It was a Saturday evening Service and families frequently came to Mass on their way home from a day at the beach, or on their way out for the evening. Outfits varied wildly, but for the most part everyone was on time and well behaved.

When we moved to New England, we expected a return to traditional Sunday values and behavior. Unfortunately, we find that our fellow communicants, can leave a lot to be desired.

And this is why I can NOT stand going to church! I've tried several different times for Mass, but at each Service, people will arrive for mass up to 15 minutes late and inappropriately attired. Everyone has a day where they can't get themselves together, but really. If you don't have time to brush your hair, please go to the following mass.

Short shorts and Yoga shorts are not appropriate church attire. Not for children, not for parents, not for teen aged girls. no. Neither are tight jeans, spiked field shoes or tops (I hesitate to refer to them as shirts) that bare more of your shoulders/ chest/ back/ midriff than should be exposed in a church, unless worn under a cardigan. Hats off in church, fellas. If your T-shirt correctly advises one and all that Rugby Players eat dead babies for breakfast, please wear a polo for mass and change at the field.

I know, I know...."let he who is without sin cast the first stone", and yes, I have attended Mass wearing jeans. I wore clean jeans, with clean clothes and my teeth and hair brushed. I wore jeans because after mass, there was a picnic on the church grounds. Jeans were the suggested attire. I have never attended church looking like I pulled last night's clothes off of the floor (unlike the family who sat in front of us today, who were actually asked to present the offertory gifts).

Other transgressions of church behavior that I have witnessed lately:
-Screaming babies whose parents don't remove them from the service because "it is a noise unto the Lord".
No. You are a lazy, inconsiderate person and I'd like to see you pull that stuff in your board room! We have 2 cry rooms. Use them.
-Diaper changes in the pew (or lack there of) - giving new meaning to the word "pew". See above.
-Loud, jabbering children - Am I the only person who was raised to be quiet and listen to the priest? To be respectful of the Celebrant and the Congregation?  That mass is over when it's over? Feed them SOMETHING at home so they don't scream through Mass.
-Allowing the children to use goldfish crackers in a pretend Eucharistic manner is disrespectful and ignorant.
-iPads - Really? Why bother? If you or your family aren't going to pay attention. If you aren't going to be present, why bother to get out of bed? The Little Mermaid isn't in the bible. Neither are the Veggie Tales, but nice try.
-Recharging the cell phone. Yep. Mr. Man came into the Sanctuary, positioned himself next to a plug and proceeded to plug his phone in, the busy vibrate function serving as a noisy indication of Mr. Man's self importance. Thankfully, he just let it shake, rattle and roll, rather than answer it during the service.
-Lastly, on one baffling occasion - a remote control car. I kid you not.

I've rarely heard the priests complain, though once, (at the end of a service to which people were still arriving 20 minutes late, and leaving directly after communion) the Pastor did note that "the Sunday Masses begin on the hour and end with the completion of the recessional hymn".  Considering the amount of chaos at that particular Mass, I thought his restraint was highly commendable.

When I attend church, I want to hear what the Priest has to say, not you reading Clifford the Big Red Dog.  Do not try to force your nose picking, crumb licking, thumb sucking offspring to shake my hand during the expression of peace. And should I accidentally shake the Tot's moist and grimy hand, don't glare at me when I douse myself in Purell as a reaction.

If your child sticks his lollipop in my hair or wipes his hands on my cashmere sweater, I expect, at the very least, a sincere apology, if not an offer to pay to have my sweater cleaned. I'm not the one who brought the PBJ that your child proceeded to smear all over the seat with little regard for other parishioners comfort or allergies.

There are times where children will "act up". Sometimes our tiniest children pick the vastly quiet, echoing chamber of a church in which to discover their voices. An hour is a long time to ask a 3 year old to sit quietly and behave. But, what happened to the days where our parents shushed us, or reminded us of just Whose House we were in?  What is funny or endearing about children slithering along the church floor, under the pews? Or bouncing the kneelers on your fellow attendants' feet or belongings - or standing on them?

It is very frustrating to spend the time with my family, only to have someone else's ill behaved and undisciplined children infringe on our time and space.

I have to admit that I've been thinking of writing this for some time but I was afraid of backlash - I know even in my unfamous state, I'm convinced that I'm going to say something so controversial I'm going to end up as a "Pinhead" on Bill O'Reilly's show. And with my luck, the other topics will be so hot that it will be an episode that will be repeated constantly. Then I started to notice something - a lot of online articles and blogs about the same topic... now it might be alright for me, because I will have other articles to site in my defense - should I ever have to defend myself!

A Poll

What do we think of the new background? I changed it because I was tired of looking at the Dandelions on the old background.  I was afraid they'd blow off the screen and take root in the Peony bed.
By the light of day, this one is "groovier", I think...

The Truth is... My Garden Scares Me.

Last May, Big Daddy, MiniMe and I moved into the very, very old house of my dreams. With it came the beautiful yard and garden of Big Daddy's dreams - sans greenhouse, but I understand that's in the plans. Then we got the puppy of MiniMe's dreams.

We went to contract just around mid March. There was snow on the ground - about seven feet of it - and the fish pond was frozen over. After the thaw, the pond turned out to be a fabulous pool, surrounded by its own beautiful and ever changing gardens.

During the process of buying the home, several people who knew the home had said to me, "Wait until you see the yard, you have no idea what you have there. You just don't know!".

I smiled and said things like "Looking forward to it!", "So excited!", "Can't wait!". Meanwhile, I started thinking..."Well, I went to the yard, I walked around the yard, I know where the septic is. I realize that the pool is not a fish pond... what the heck don't I know?... is there something I should know?" I started to get a little nervous.

We hadn't closed on the house yet, so my access was limited but, I was still able to see the yard burst into life after it's winter slumber.

I grew up in New England but, this Spring renewal was new to me as a homeowner. I'd spent most of my adult life in South Florida where the yard is a year round project. Except for the ability to raise orchids effortlessly, I really had no interest in what went on in the yard. I had had enough of the mowing, hedge trimming, frond gathering. bleah. I've mentioned it before - I'm glad to be home!

The Spring sun eventually came out, the ten feet of snow melted, the birds began to sing and the Forsythia burst into bloom. Great yellow clouds of color blasting out of sticks growing in the back yard, the front yard, the side yard...all of a sudden, there was a whole lot of yellow!

A couple of weeks later, I was surprised that clouds of pink had joined the yellow in the back yard. Two gnarled and overgrown trees in the back yard turned out to be cherry trees that just seemed to burst into bloom, while the many daffodil and tulip bulbs that had been hidden by the soil began to poke their heads out of the newly thawed ground.

The grass began to turn green, and some pointy, dark pink tips grew up from the ground in a thirty foot long oval depression. I realized that the entire area was a bed of peonies - my favorite flower. Yay!

Things were poking up all over the yard and I began to realize that, when people had said "You have no idea....", they were referring to the gardens, which were coming up in wave after wave of color.

I toured the yard with the seller, who pointed at various areas of dirt and greenery and told me what was there and when it would bloom. The problem is, I didn't know the difference between a New England plant that was growing on purpose, and a weed. So I did nothing. Oh, sure, I pulled up some grass that grew in the wrong place. But,  when that turned out to be some Japanese Iris....I became afraid to cut anything back.

So I stopped weeding and trimming and cutting until I could stand it no more. Late in the summer, when the Peonies stopped blooming I decided to trim some tall weeds that had started to take over, and I started pulling and cutting.  These weeds were just about ready to bloom and I did NOT want them to go to seed and spread over my Peonies!

My plumber was working in the house at the time and saw me out the window. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He yelled out the window.

I looked up at him. "Cutting weeds back? I don't want them to choke out the Peonies. I really love Peonies."

He looked at me like I had 3 heads "Stop cutting! Stay there. DO NOT cut anything else til I get down there!"

Uh oh. I hoped it wasn't endangered. With my luck though, it probably was some kind of crazy subtropical protected plant species. I dropped the clippers and my gloves and backed away. I started to bite my nails. I squeezed my legs together and hopped on one foot like I had to go to the bathroom.

My plumber burst through the back door with a purposeful stride, stomped across the yard and up to where I had been working. He looked at the trug full of weeds I'd cut. He slapped a hand to his forehead like one of the three stooges.

"What. are. you. doing? What?!" he said

I looked at him. "Weeding? Just ... cleaning up ... " I laughed nervously, still hopping and biting my nails.

He looked at the sky in a fit of frustration.  "Phlox. Those are Phlox. You have Phlox throughout your entire yard. I have tried to grow Phlox in my yard for years. Decades! TRIED! And I can't get it to grow more than 6" tall and die. And here YOU are (he points at me with one index finger, the other hand gesticulating wildly) cut-ting-it-down! It's Phlox. It will bloom for the whole summer."

"Oh. huh" I said, stopped jumping... put the other foot down.. looked around and tried to block his view of the 14" stalks I'd just cut. "So, do you think I killed it?"

By this time, Mr. Plumber was much calmer, realizing that I was not actually killing my Phlox, but ignorantly trying to make things better. He told me that if I left it alone, he thought I'd still be able to enjoy some of it.  I had Phlox blooming until October, so I'm willing to bet that it was ok to cut down the stalks that I did!

The plumber still works for us when we need him. He's a great guy but slow to forgive. He always greets me by asking what I've killed lately.

Now this winter, being the polar opposite of last winter, we had very little snow in New England (less than a foot) and temperatures were extremely mild.  As Winter turned to Spring, the bulbs that we planted last Fall blasted out of the ground, practically in full bloom. I've never seen a Tulip with a 2 inch stem! I'd really been looking forward to bouquets of Spring flowers... maybe next Spring!

The other day, I decided that I did know a few weeds from "the good stuff" by  now, so I spent 3 hours with the  Peonies.  I'm hoping that the Moss and the Ground Cabbage will recover quickly. I hope I didn't kneel on too many stalks that hadn't had a chance to grow above the ground yet....

Next week, I might go for the Roses. I'm going to need new gloves. And maybe a face mask.

I Know, I Know!

I know. I told you I'd be doing 90 blogs in 90 days. I know I started our lives together with a lie.
I did it for a week. Everyday.
Please forgive me. I'm bored of myself. I'm sure you must be bored of myself, too.

Really, the most interesting thing I've done this week is ... don't laugh at me.... Doggy Playdate.

Total doggy sucker, aren't I?

I'm fortunate that we have a great dog park in my town. Dog and I found our Dog Park Posse fairly quickly. We go to the park at the same time every day, and it just works out well. Everyone seems to play well with others... mostly... and the Posse is always a good source for used sporting equipment and reasonable and gifted workmen to fix stuff. It's always good to have the number for a workman who can fix stuff in your phone. Especially if you have a husband who thinks he can fix stuff.

There was a day that one of the DPP was sick and her husband brought their dog and he brought up politics. We didn't know what to do with that. So we ignored it and instead of reply to what he said, would just change the subject. I understand politics is your first love, sir, but we don't discuss those things in public and certainly not in front of the dogs. They don't need to be exposed to that, this early in their lives. Now, tell us about your recipe for Chicken Cordon Bleu! Well, you'll have us wrapped around your little finger!

Anyway, back to the Doggy Playdate... sometimes things can get a little rambunctious at the Dog Park, and someone will decide to leave or to take some time off. Then we loose a member of the DPP. This is not fun. We love our Posse.  That's what happened to Dog's girlfriend. She's very attractive and all of the dogs love her. They all want to play with her at the same time.  She likes being popular but sometimes her dance card just gets full and she feels overwhelmed so she snaps a little. Then her Mother gets mad at her and they take some time off and we don't see them.

Having a fenced yard, I invited them over for a doggy playdate. They showed up right on time, we stood around my yard, letting the dogs run and play - just like at the dog park - then she left. With her dog, don't worry. I'm not a Dog Napper. One Dog is enough.

Fun was had by all. But, truth be told, I thought that by the time I lived with a Teen Ager, I'd be done with playdates!

Going Home

When people ask me what living in Florida was like, I speak my true experience. It was 18 years of culture shock.  There were great things – my fabulous friends, Cuban food, Coconut Grove Art Festival, my orchids.  As a kid, I had visited Florida many times with my parents, so visiting certain tourist attractions was fun, but it was never home.

I grew up in a quintessential New England town: As a teenager, I once ran a red light down town, and by the time I got home, my parents knew about it.  The traffic light is located in front of the police station and one of the constables had been looking out the window as I ran the light. He didn’t chase me down and give me a ticket, he called my Mom. I got into so much trouble! That was home for me.

After 18 years in South Florida, and due to the effect of the economy, Big Daddy was “made redundant”.  I wasn’t all that upset when he told me the news. In fact I was horribly conflicted because all I felt was joy and relief.  We’d really missed our New England way of life and now we would likely be going Home.  The SoFlo style just isn’t us. It’s not that there isn’t a lot to like, or that I don’t miss, but it just isn’t us.  Plus, I didn’t doubt for a minute that Big Daddy was going to get a great new job.

While BD looked for a job – there were some great options as soon as word got out that he was no longer with his previous employer – we talked about where we would live.  After 18 years of culture shock I wanted to go HOME.  Very few of my SoFlo neighbors interacted in my part of the ‘hood. the neighbor's kids were pyromaniacs when they weren't trying to kill each other. I rarely saw anyone I knew on the sidewalk (though my good friend KimO still mentally waves to me as she jogs past my former home), and I never felt comfortable enough to even let MiniMe play in our yard by herself. Play dates were hard to come by because MiniMe had to go to private school and it was such a drive between our home and the homes of her friends. So she was lonely, too.

There were some job opportunities in and around The Big City. Big Daddy needs access to major airports for his job related travel, and I wanted access to museums, shopping and cultural opportunities, so we knew we didn’t want to be more than a 1 hour train ride away.

We thought about moving to the town in which I grew up. I still have family living there, the schools are blue ribbon, and there are only 3 stoplights (up one from when I was a kid). Sometimes it’s a little like that country music video –Craig Morgan, I think – where the farmer is driving his combine down the state road on the way to his next field with a pretentious, cell phone talking moron in a drop top beemer hard on his tail.(no offense to any drop top beemer drivers is meant)

I could imagine MiniMe stopping at the same Western Auto for help with a flat tire on her bike – no money in her pocket – and the owner helping her fix it then saying “just tell your Mom she can drop the money by when she gets a chance.”. That’s the kind of town I grew up in. The constable who turned me in to my parents for running that red light? His son is a constable now. Unfortunately, my Mayberry was just a little too far from the beaten path for Big Daddy who didn’t relish a 30 minute drive to the closest train station, then a 1 hour train ride to The City.

Big Daddy, on the other hand, grew up in a commuter town with a stop on the Metro North Hudson Line and, if he was going to work in The City, he wanted to be in a town with a train station.  I though I saw my New England fantasy life slipping away.

Smack between the two towns in which BD and I grew up is the quintessential Snow globe town in which my Mother in Law grew up. BD had many fond memories of the town where he had spent a lot of time with his grandparents. I fired up the laptop, entered my favorite Real Estate Search Engine (www.williamraveis.com) and entered the name of the town.  I swooned with joy at the pictures of the antique center hall colonials with their wide board floors and their 12 over 12 pane windows.

I delighted in the Chamber of Commerce pictures of down town that appeared to have plenty of parking (which it still does at 7AM, the time the photo was taken), the train station, and the recreation department’s vast menu of activities for MiniMes of every age.

I looked up the public school system and nearly cried with relief – public school would be a reality!! And there were no metal detectors at the doors of the schools! Spanish is taught as an elective – not as a first language! Be still my heart parsimonious heart.

With a little more sleuthing, it turned out that one of my childhood neighbors lived in the town, and another was a pastor at a church in the next town over.  Is there anything better than moving to a new place and having people who already like you because they liked you “back then”? Or someone whose name you can enter on the “in case of emergency please call…” line on school forms? Is there anything more lonely than an empty “in case of emergency please call…” line on a school form?

Big Daddy had a couple of job interviews lined up, and we realized that the move was going to need to be made sooner rather than later.  We made a reservation at a big, old inn and my Mom stayed with MiniMe. I made plans to look at rental homes with a real estate agent who was an associate of a friend of my hair stylist in Florida.  She’s now one of my besties.  I miss my stylist.

My Agent/ Bestie pulled a great rental out of thin air for us (or so it seemed), we plunked down a heart stopping amount of money for a deposit, and six weeks later we moved in.

Within a few days of our arrival, I was being teased by the regulars at the local coffee shop for wearing winter clothes (it was 80 the morning that MiniMe and I flew out of the Fort Lauderdale Airport and 50 when we landed that afternoon), the size of our moving truck (colossal), neighbors were stopping us on Main Street to invite us to stop by for coffee.  People knocked on our door to welcome us to town.

Remember my childhood neighbor that was living in the same town?  She arrived 10 minutes behind the moving truck with a bag of goodies that included all kinds of local information, take out menus complete with recommendations, sweets from the locally owned businesses, the phone number of her pediatrician, hugs and loads of good cheer.  

MiniMe (who, mind you, had just gone trick or treating in SoFlo and brought her 5lb load with her), got a bag of candy from a neighbor who was glad to see a kid in the community, plus a Christmas stocking loaded down with treats from our Agent/Bestie who stopped by to make sure we were settling in. I’m sure there was more, but I might have blocked it from my memory but  I filled her Christmas stocking with dental floss, toothbrushes and toothpaste.

I started referring to our address as “123 Fairy Tale Lane”.

MiniMe was kindly welcomed into the 5^th grade of her new Catholic school upon her mid year appearance.  A couple of weeks later, she was already getting invited to skating parties, birthday parties, slumber parties and after school playdates.

There was a constant bustle of friends old and new and family stopping by, saying hello, coming for dinners. Getting reacquainted. One night my daughter said to us at dinner “Mom, Dad, I want to ask you something.”… BD and I looked at each other for a clue, but neither of us had anything… “WHERE have you been hiding all of these people? WHY don’t I know them?”. I really had no answer for this. I was stumped. MiniMe went back to her plate and said, “I just want you to know that I think it’s great!”.

I needed a moment just then, and I still do just writing this. 

 Though I miss my long time SoFlo friends, I am so glad to be home.