Anticipating College Move-In

I have loved having Carter home these last few weeks and now I am going to have to readjust to her being gone again. This time last year we were preparing her to go off to Germany for her first semester. I didn’t get the normal college drop off experience. It was just a quick wave goodbye as she went through security at RDU. It was fast and clean, and maybe easier, but then she was so far away.

This week she and I are flying up to Boston to move her in to her on campus apartment. Not only do I get the full move-in experience, but I have to outfit her kitchen with her. Not to have to be on the meal plan is a huge bonus for her, but she is used to cooking with my equipment and I am not leaning toward spending that for college cookware.

The one thing I am not prepared for is Boston moving day on September first when apparently 60,000 students move from one apartment to another in a 24 hour period. The flaw in the system is they have to be out of one apartment by noon on August 31 and can not get in the new one until noon, September 1. I have read that there are college students sleeping on the street with all their belongings. Thankfully this is not our situation, this year, but we are going to be trying to move in right in the middle of all this.

In the spring Carter did a great job of moving herself out of her dorm without me, so I am anticipating this might be my last move in. My parents never came to college for move in or out after my initial drop off Freshman year. That was also the quickest move-in in history because it was just my father with me and he had to drive to Dulles to catch a flight back to London. I remember walking around campus alone while everyone else still had their parents. I was wondering what their parents were still doing there.

Thankfully some things are better about moving Carter in than I ever had. She does not have a stereo system, with turn table, receiver, tape deck and two wood case speakers the size of large end tables. There are no milk crates full of record albums. She does not have a Refrigerator, since one is provided in her kitchen. No television, since she watches everything on her computer. No reference books like dictionaries, both English and one for your foreign language as well as thesaurus and Little Brown style guide. As far as I am concerned, College move-in has got to be a breeze compared to mine, except for that Boston thing.

Proof He’s Petty

This morning my friend Suzanne’s sister posted the White House phone number on Facebook, asking people to call about the flag not being at half mast over the White House to honor John McCain. I have not agreed with everything that McCain did in all his 60 years of selfless service to the country, mostly in picking Sarah Palin as his running mate, but I do think he deserved more than 36 hours of a flag at half mast. The norm is for the flag to only be raised after the internment of the body.

I feel like 45 was just being petty to rise it all the way up when every other flag in DC and probably the country were at half mast. So I called the White House. I had to dial 11 times before I got anything other than a busy signal. When the phone did pick up I got a recording and I waited 7 minutes for a live volunteer to answer my call. I politely said, “I am concerned about the flag over the White House not being at half mast.” A very nice women said, “I will let the president know of your concern.” I then asked if she was extra busy today, and she said, yes. It was a cordial and short call, but I felt better registering my concern.

I was happy to see that late this afternoon the White House lowered the flag. The office of the President is more than the man who sits behind the desk. It is small minded of him to use something like the flag to register his dislike of someone who deserves to be honored. The only thing the flag did was make the president look childish.

I took some heat from someone who is a supporter of 45 about my calling out people who I feel have lowered themselves to stick by someone who acts this way. She says that people voted for him because they are fed up. I understand the idea of not liking politicians and wishing things could change. What I don’t understand is sticking by someone who acts this way. There is something about not wanting to admit you might have voted for the wrong person. I voted for Bush the younger, but when he went south, I had no trouble saying I no longer felt like he was the right guy for the job.

45 not honoring a great republican is something I just don’t get. I am not sure how people in the party can jive with this.

When Friends Know You

In the last couple of days I have come home to surprise gifts from friends. One was from my friend Kelly. Her son Adam left his car and his college stuff at our house and when he came to pick it up before move in he left me this bag from Kelly. I didn’t notice it at first, but when Kelly asked me about it I searched around and found the perfect gift, a bag of “45” dog toys and paraphernalia. My favorite is the poop bag dispenser with bags.

Nothing makes me happier about scooping than if I can do it with someone’s face on the bag I feel poopie about. So thanks to Kelly for the very thoughtful gift. Although it is unnecessary since we are happy to help Adam out any time he needs it.

A much less controversial gift, but just as thoughtful, was the card game Christy left in my mail box. Christy knows me as the game master and apparently this was a game she and her family liked, so she knew I would too.

My response to a gift of a game is, “Will you play it with me?” That is a true grift to me. Of course Christy said, “Yes.” I can hardly wait to try this game out.

Usually I have to import game players since my immediate family is not hot on games. That was until yesterday when I knew Carter had to be totally bored. She challenged me to Monopoly. Praise be, you know I dropped everything else I was doing to play a game with her. We probably should have picked a shorter game because after all the properties were bought up and the houses were going up fast, Carter got bored and the game ended.

Now if anyone wants to give me a gift, and I am not suggesting anyone ever get me ANYTHING, but if you are looking to do something nice for me come play a game with me. You don’t have to buy me a game, or bring a game, I’ve got plenty. Just come and sit at the table and play. After we play, we can walk Shay and use the appropriate poop bags. That makes for the perfect day.

Sally Came to Town

I love college move in time of year. With so many good schools around here I am sure to have a friend of two come to visit when they drop their kid off. Today was an extra special visit from my great Ethel Walker’s friend Sally Peck. Sally’s youngest son is a sophomore at Elon so for the last two Augusts I have had a chance to catch up with her.

Since Sally lives in Silicon Valley I had not seen her for years, but thanks to the draw of a nice North Carolina school I am blessed with a visit. Today I invited Sally to meet me half way between Elon and my house since she came all the way here last year. We were meeting for breakfast so I could think of no better place that the best gas station restaurant in North Carolina, the Saxapawhaw General Store.

Thank goodness Sally is so down to earth that she did not mind meeting me at a gas station. We had a wonderful visit and a yummy breakfast. I got to hear about her wedding in March to Herb and their five grown children now blended into a new family.

The big thing we talked about is our 40th high school reunion next May. So, calling all Walker’s girls from ‘79. Sally and I talked about getting a big Air bnb so we can all be together. Frankly, one lunch back at EWS is enough, but a good night of friends together is really what we want.

So spread the word. I am going to start looking for a place to stay. Suggestions are welcome from anyone in or around Simsbury. It is not exactly the vacation capital so we hope we can find something big enough.

The nice thing about our 40th is no one cares what you look like, who you are married to or not, how successful you are or anything else that people use to measure themselves against. We just want to have a chance to laugh and tell stories and maybe laugh and eat, and laugh. Just like we did when we were at Walkers.

It was great to see Sally and I am happy that I know I will have a couple more years of visits.

Grown Up Permission Slip Needed

Remember when you were a kid and you needed a permission slip to do something out of the norm. Not like getting out of school early to go to the dentist. That was just a plain old note from your Mom. No, a permission slip was for something fun or dangerous, like going on a field trip to a zip line. Once you had that permission slip signed by your parent or guardian (which was a word I never really understood since everyone I knew had parents), you were free to do something without worry.

Sometimes I wish there was a permission slip for grown ups. Yes, one of the beauties of being a grown up is being able to do whatever you want. Like my friend Lane says, when you are an adult you can eat ice cream for dinner, not that she realized that until she was well over thirty.

But there is a modicum of guilt that comes with doing whatever I want.

Yesterday I cleaned the house, did four loads of laundry, picked up Russ’ prescriptions, did some office work, had a meeting, wrote a dozen necessary emails, and called three workmen. Today, I did a puzzle, finished a fifteen year old cross stitch, and binged watched the first season of West Wing. I had a lot of guilt about my day today. I did hand wash one shirt and machine wash one quilt, but other than that, well.

I might have felt better about things if I had a permission slip for the puzzle. I’m not sure who I should ask to sign it. I could fax it to my father since I usually had parents sign those things, even though my parents usually told me just to sign it for them. For the record, I highly objected to forging permissions slips on my parents’ orders so my mother usually signed with a dried up orange magic marker that she had to lick since the cap had been lost ages ago. Russ could have sent me a permission slip electronically, since he might actually be my guardian now. I would have even felt better if Carter had signed it for me, just as long as someone else knew I was goofing off.

Now, I never feel like I need permission for Mah Jongg, or bridge. Since I don’t go shopping that is a non-issue in my house. Somehow starting a puzzle that has taken over the living room game table feels decedent. I am not trying to hog it. Anyone who walks by is welcome to work on it. No one else in the family uses that table. We have plenty of other tables available, and they are all clean.

I know plenty of women who feel no guilt about reading a book all day and night. How is doing a puzzle different, especially since I was listening to a book on podcast while I did it?

Maybe I just need a little confession. Next time I work on the puzzle I will hang a little sign on my front door handle. Of course it will be tomorrow. I have to finish this puzzle before Wednesday when I have Mah Jongg here and we need the table.

Moral Flexibility is Not a Good Thing

After coming home from a five day news break I was bombarded with the latest news of Michael Cohen and Paul Manafort’s days in court. What followed was 45 on Fox talking about Cohen flipping, meaning he made a plea deal to turn in a bigger fish, namely 45. The most shocking thing to me is 45 saying, “I’ve known all about flipping- for 30 or 40 years…I’ve had many friends involved in this stuff…”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I know or have ever met someone who is a flipper, let alone have many friends who have been on one side or the the other of a flip. See, a flipper is a criminal. Only someone being charged with a crime needs to flip someone else on a bigger crime. In essence, the president has just said that for 30-40 years his friends have been criminals.

Before you jump all over me, it’s 45 who said right on TV… “Many friends.” I am not inferring any thing, just quoting. He didn’t say, “I know one guy, who might be my in-law, who flipped.” Just “many friends.”

I know politics is a dirty business. If we look closely at many politicians we are going to find stuff we don’t like, but what I can’t get over is the moral flexibility the Trump supporters seem to have to stick with him.

I remember when the far right used to be the self named “moral majority.” They weren’t just the run of the mill, good ‘ole republicans who believed in small government and states rights. No, these were people who used the Bible selectively to try and squash people’s personal rights, like marriage equality and the right to chose what to do with our own bodies, and equal rights. They claimed the moral high ground.

Well, you moral majority, why aren’t you using your bible to point out that robbers, thieves, and adulterers, who are in power now are doing anything wrong? How quickly you abandoned true morality and lay down for this person who as far as I can tell has confessed to many immoral acts for years. 45 is exactly who he always said he was. But you moral majority, you are the flippers now.

What I wish for is for all the republicans who want to save whatever morality and backbone they have to start a new party of centerists. And perhaps many of the center leaning democrats will join you. It can be a party of common sense. Conservative on spending, and liberal on rights. Sticking with a guy you wouldn’t leave alone in a room with your beautiful daughter is not a good idea.

Really Easing Back Into Reality

After five days of friend and vacation time, today could have been a shock to my system. I had to get up at 6:45 to go to the gym and as I was getting ready Russ asked me if I could get the plumbers to come fix the only original toilet left in our house. Just those two things alone could be considered a slap in the reality face.

Since I was too tired to eat breakfast I just went to workout without eating and did just fine. I called the plumbers on the way there and left a message. This made me feel like I was having an uber productive day in re-entry.

Since it is Mah Jongg day, and most people are away on vacation I asked my three friends who were coming if we could go out to lunch after playing instead of my cooking them lunch. They all agreed so my Mah Jongg was all playing and no working.

During the game the best plumbers in Durham, the Whaley Brothers showed up. They not only fixed the toilet, but they showed me where a water cut off valve was that neither Russ, ever knew about for 25 years of owning this house and they diagnosed a problem with our tankless water heater that has been plaguing us. The last two things were free!

After the brothers left I joined my friends for lunch at the newly renamed Bull and Bean, formally Bull Street. This game playing and lunching out was reminding me of being on vacation. That being the case I felt like I needed to go home and take a nap. Just as I was getting my feet up Carter came home and asked me if I wanted to go to the movies and see Crazy Rich Asians with her. Sure! This is kind of like a vacation day. So off we went.

The movie is fun and definitely worth seeing. It was Carter’s second time to see it in four days so I knew it was going to be good.

After the movies, Carter and I made dinner with me teaching her how to make risotto as one of her college cooking lessons. Now I am back to putting my feet up. The day might have started out on a taxing note, but it quickly slid back into semi vacation mode. I wonder how long I can ignore reality? It is so much nicer this way.

Friendship Slam

When you are a guest at someone’s house it is always best to leave early and have them pine for your return than late and have them wish you had gone earlier. It also works that as a guest it is best to leave while you are having a great time before you discover you over stayed your welcome and never get asked back.

So sadly I left Bald Head today, leaving my friends to continue their family vacation without me, but not before we packed in all the fun we could. Since I was the fourth, or in lots of cases, the third for bridge, Suzanne, Jack and I decided that we should waste no time doing anything else this morning, not breakfast, not walking on the beach, not swimming, but just get as much bridge in as we could.

Since we were playing three handed we were fairly lenient on each other and so we had lots of good learning moments. Even though I had to pack and Suzanne had to get dressed since she was playing in her pajamas we kept playing “one last hand.” We ended our five days of bridge playing between my house and Bald Head with the best hand ever. Suzanne opened 3 clubs and the bid ended up as a slam at 6 spades, which she played beautifully. It was the perfect ending to our time together and an excellent metaphor for our friendship. All things good and always fun.

Since now it was lunch time and we hadn’t eaten anything all day we loaded my suit case, and two coolers and Scout box I was bringing home, on to the two golf carts and the five of us went to the harbor to grab lunch. I had no time to get sappy about how sad I was about leaving them because just as we finished lunch I realized I could make the next ferry that was leaving in four minutes.

Racing the golf carts over to the ferry the boat guy generously took all my stuff and put them on the boat, I hugged the Farleys goodbye and the boat guy let me get on with one second to spare. It had been a fabulous little get away for me and I was leaving while everyone still liked me.

Driving off alone in my car was a little shock to my system because I didn’t have anyone to tell stories to. I stoped at the fish market in Southport and got a bunch of seafood right off the boat so I utilized my coolers. As I was driving the boring part of I-40, listening to the radio reality was coming back to me. I had avoided all news while I was away and that made for a lovely Trump-free few days.

The good news was I was coming home to Carter, Russ and Shay who make everything in life better. When I got home I told Carter that Suzanne and I thought our whole families should have a vacation together and she said that sounded like a great idea, especially since we had not had time with Suzanne’s oldest child Grace on this vacation.

So thanks to the Worden/Farley clan for including me on their vacation. It was absolutely perfect. I hope the rest of your time on Bald Head is schmired!

Great Day on Bald Head

Things I love about being on vacation with the Worden/Farley Family:

Being treated like a queen, with coffee brought to me in bed.

Great morning walk with Suzanne and the dogs where everyone on the beach is happy to greet the Labrador’s.

Being one of the family.

Playing bridge after breakfast.

Playing banana grams after lunch.

Never being without someone who wants to play a game with me.

Spending ocean time with my bonus boys, Jack and Oliver, jumping in the waves.

Driving the golf cart with Suzanne and the boys listening to Oliver’s curated music of Sting, the Grateful Dead and others from Suzanne and my era.

Sharing the friendliness of North Carolinians with the Farley’s.

Sitting on the porch with Suzanne and Steve, listening to ocean and loving the waining afternoon light, telling stories.

Laughing, Laughing, Laughing.

Napping Please

When on vacation it is often necessary to take a nap. OK, maybe not necessary. How about preferred? Preferred is not quite right either. Perhaps, shit, I never get to take a nap at home and between walking on the beach, being in the sun and staying up too late the night before I need a nap. Add to that, I am much nicer with more sleep than less sleep and I am a guest so am have to be nice. Also, everyone else was napping.

All this being said, I went outside on the porch and lay down in the hammock to nap. It was in the shade. A lovely breeze was blowing. The ocean was off in the distance just enough to make that white noise sound. I had pillows and a cover and it was a Pawleys Island rope hammock, my preferred brand.

I closed my eyes. No sleep. I had some random thoughts. “Where did Suzanne live in college? I couldn’t remember her room. I tried to sleep. Then the banging started. What was that banging? Every thirty to forty five seconds. I tried to ignore it. After about half an hour I got up to see what it was so I could stop it. It was a door that opened on the porch, but the casing had come undone and was blocking the door from closing. It was too tall for me to fix. I gave up on my nap.

Then the air conditioning in the house was not working. Well, it was working, but the door that kept banging open was letting so much hot air in it overwhelmed the system. Then the gas grill wasn’t working.

Since I am Suzanne’s handy friend I went to work to fix everything. None of it was hard, but at least now the doors close, the house has cooled down and the grill is fired up to cook dinner. Sadly I did not have my nap, but I did have a fun day on the beach and in town at lunch and at the game table. I just pray I don’t get grouchy before dinner and the next round of games. I live my life without naps, I think I can do it.

Moving the Game East

Today was my Sherpa day. Suzanne, Jack and Oliver put their two big dogs in their car and drove east to Deep River to catch the ferry to Bald Head. Steve, Suzanne’s husband, was supposed to fly in from NYC, but his flight got canceled. Thankfully he was put on a later flight. My job was to pick Steve up at the airport on my way to Deep River with two of their coffin sized suitcases, a cooler, my suit case and whatever Steve brought. The plan was that Steve and I would take a later ferry and catch up with Suzanne and the boys on the island.

Somehow all the stars aligned. I sent Suzanne to the farmer’s market on their way to the coast an hour before I left home. Steve’s flight got in 45 minutes early and he got his bag and stepped out on the curb just as I was pulling up. We decided not to stop the car for any stops and just book it to Deep River to try and meet up with everyone else. It was a great time for me to catch up with Steve.

We pulled up to the ferry dock and five minutes later Suzanne pulled in behind us. Somehow we had gotten ahead of them. All our bags, boxes and coolers made the ferry crossing and the transport got us to the beautiful house they are renting for two weeks.

My job as way station master and Sherpa was done successfully and now I am being rewarded with a few days at the beach and lots of laughs and many games to be played.

Before dinner Jack and I busted out the Banana grams and it was a true match where we both finished at exactly the same time. The game was decided on one non-word that disqualified that board. It was practically as exciting as the finish of the Indianapolis 500.

After a yummy dinner out we came back to the house to play bridge. We had about 30% Slam hands which made it a big night at bridge. Exhaustion finally ended the game, or rather just put it on pause until tomorrow.

So much fun was had and it’s just the beginning. I will gladly volunteer as Sherpa anytime.

A Bag Full of Tricks

Russ is the master of picking up the check. He had to learn to be quick and devious when he married into my family. Tonight we went out to dinner with our house guests, Suzanne and her two sons, Jack and Oliver. We had a big day here and I knew I was going to be too exhausted to cook so we had a reservation at Vin Rouge.

Being the mother of one girl I was not actually prepared to feed boys the quantities of food necessary to keep them upright. I got up early this morning after all the dogs in our house barked at any movement. I made two big trays of candy bacon and some scrambled eggs for Suzanne and I before the boys emerged from the newly created man cave.

When they did arise they mowed through some breakfast, it was their first encounter tee with my candy bacon. Oliver and Suzanne were going off to tour Duke so I drove them over so they didn’t have to worry about parking. On the way out the door Jack asked if he could cook some salmon for his mid morning snack.

After I dropped them off I stopped by the grocery to stock up on some lunch and snack food. Jack was happy to enjoy the tortilla chips with the limes he was eating. It was practically noon before Jack, Carter and I got to sit down and play Catan for the first time today. Half way through the game it was time for me to go back and pick up the Duke tour group.

This also meant it was time for people to eat again. The best thing about having such close friends visit is I told them all to make their own lunches and everyone found something they wanted. Full and tired from barking dogs at night naps were in order for a few.

I lay on my bed for half an hour just to recharge before Suzanne and I went out to Whole Foods for her to stock up on food for Bald Head. She was just going to get some meat and wine and two carts later we were rolling our way back to her car with a dozen bags.

Suddenly it was time for us to eat again. When we sat down Russ whispered something to the waitress that I recognized as the heads up to give him the bill when dinner was over. Suzanne said dinner was their treat and she and Russ had a small tug of war, but I knew Russ was already on it.

Oliver had already decided on the mac and cheese for dinner before we got to the restaurant, but once there thought a second entree of steak tartare would hit the spot. Carter and Jack had matching dinners of oysters and steaks, but Carter took half of hers home. As we hardly thought we could eat another bite Jack got up from the table and disappeared.

Apparently he texted Suzanne during dinner that if she gave him her credit card, he would go pay the bill in advance. When Russ learned of this slight of hand, Oliver gleefully, with hands in the air shaking, announced, “We are a bag full of tricks.” It really does take a bag full of tricks for someone to get one over on Russ Lange. Thanks to the Farley Magicians for dinner.

One Mom, Two Sons, Two Dogs

It took some doing, but I spent the better part of today rearranging Russ’ home office to fit an additional queen sized inflatable bed in it. Tonight my best college friend Suzanne arrived with her two very tall sons, Jack and Oliver and their two labradors, Chance and Esme to spend two days with us on their way to Bald Head.

So many times the Lange’s, one, two or all three of us have crashed at the Farley/Worden home in NYC. And when I say crashed, I mean we are feted, fed and entertained in luxury. If I ever call Suzanne and say I am driving through New York, she always says, “How long can you stay?” It is about time I returned the favor.

When Suzanne planned this family vacation she knew that the logistics of moving everyone to Bald Head were going to be complicated. Suit cases had to be fed ex’d, golf clubs had to be shipped. Dog crates had to go on roof racks. Her daughter had to fly in from San Francisco, her husband had to fly in from NYC. And since the dogs are an important part of the vacation they had to be driven.

I was thrilled when our house became a vital stop. This meant that I was going to have some quality time playing games with the Farley’s. Oliver and Suzanne are going to look at Duke tomorrow, but other than that, I bet we will get in more than one round of Catan. Even Carter, who normally won’t play a game with me, was happy to join in the first game of Catan tonight with Jack and Oliver and me.

The young people worked as a team against me to give Oliver, the youngest the victory. Oliver reminded me that I made him cry when he was little and we played Monopoly, so he lives to beat me. What a horrible human I was to make a little boy cry over a game. It made him a much better competitor today.

Shay is the only one who is slightly traumatized by having two big new friends in the house. They came in an drank all her water, then out came their big stainless bowls to be filled with more water and that is when the splashing really got started. It is clear that Shay is much more “Oodle” than “Lab” for she is nothing like a Chance or Esme. But by the time dinner was over she was happy to hang with them, even crying a little when they went in their room to sleep.

I hope that everyone sleeps well. We have a lot of dog and game fun planned for tomorrow.

Shrub Suggestions

Earlier this summer we had to have five large pines removed from the back out our house. In order to reach them our entire side yard of wild hedges had to be removed. Well, they didn’t all have to be removed, but once they started disturbing one section the leftover just looked messy. It was a better plan to have the men with big machines go ahead and remove them than wait and have me do it.

We have a scorched earth area in our yard now that is at least 100 feet long and thirty five feet wide. My Dad saw pictures of it and volunteered to bring a number of his tractors and implements along with Bill, his best guy, to help me fix up the side yard. Of course the best time to do this is in the fall so I have lived with the mess all summer.

Last weekend while I was at the farm my Dad and I went to look at bushes at his good nursery. We estimate that I am going to need at least 16 good sized, fast growing bushes to recreate the screen we need between us and out neighbors. As luck would have it our neighbors have been doing a major lawn overhaul for the last six weeks so they pulled out all their screening shrubs on their side so right now none of us can go in either of our kitchens without being fully dressed.

I am looking for shrub advice from all you fabulous southern gardeners. I m considering a combination of holly and laurel bushes, but don’t have exact varieties worked out. I am not wed to this plan, so I am open to suggestions.

Also I am looking for a reliable vendor who delivers. I want to start with specimens that are between 3-4 feet tall, but can get up to ten. I don’t need to say that I am looking for a good price.

Right now the inventory is low since it is a terrible time to plant, but by mid September I need to get moving on this. Please message me with any and all suggestions. The best suggestion will win a pie of your choice.

Hated Six Months and a Day Rule

For most of our marriage we did not have dental insurance. We just went to the dentist and paid for it. Life was easy. Then, right after I finished paying for Carter’s braces we got dental insurance. It’s good. They pay a good amount. But there is one rule I hate. You are entitled to two teeth cleanings a year, but they must be at least six months and one day apart.

Technically you won’t get two teeth cleanings in every year based on that math. As example let’s say you got your teeth cleaned on January 2, since the dentist is closed on January 1. The next day you are eligible to get your teeth cleaned is July 3, six months and one day later. The next time you re eligible after that is January 4, then July 5. OK if you start at the first of the year it works out you get two. What if your first cleaning is June 30 so the next day you can go is Dec. 31, but the dentist is closed. So you have to wait until January 2, a new year. You only got one in the first year.

This issue really didn’t bother me until I had a child who goes to college far from home. First it is next to impossible to get her an appointment on a day I know for certain she is going to be home and then what are the chances she is going to be home even close to six months and a day when she is allowed to get her teeth cleaned again. It would be so nice if the dental insurance plan would just let us get our teeth cleaned twice a year and when those times are was up to us. Sometimes it might be five months apart and other seven. Not a big issue in the scheme of things, but is it?

See in their current rules they are banking on the fact that you are going to not always get two cleanings in every calendar year as long as you have to wait at least six months and a day. Most people can’t get an appointment on that exact day, it might be a weekend or a holiday or your birthday and you don’t want to go to the dentist that day. So you push it back a few weeks. But every time you do that it means you are pushing back the next appointment.

I used to make a year’s worth of appointments at a time and always knew which months I would go to the dentist. Not now. I hate this rule! Damn those smart dental insurance people.

Don’t Walk Abreast at Costco

Today was errand day. Since Shay was out of chicken I had to make a Costco run because we spoil our dog more than our baby. It was only once I had parked my car did I realize that the start of college move in had started. I was the lone North Carolina plate amongst cars from a New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. I thought there was a higher number of Range Rovers than is normal for our Costco.

There are lots of benefits to living in a college town flanked by two other college towns, but this time of year is not it. Once inside the giant box I was accosted by parents and their college aged child walking abreast with not just one cart, but also a flat bed cart. I know that it is not official move in day so I am assuming these were either athletes, or upper classmen outfitting off campus apartments. From the number of flat screen TVs I saw being purchased I might have thought they were people building sports bars.

One family had three different TV’s. I saddled up beside them pretending to be interested in a smart TV just so I could figure out why they were buying three.

Daughter: I think that 55 inch is good for the living room and the two 32 inches can go in my bedroom and on the porch.

Father: Do you need one for the kitchen?

Daughter: No, I can see the the living room from the kitchen.

Porch TV? I didn’t see any weather proof TV’s. With all these TV’s how does she have any time left over to study. I wonder if she is majoring in television production?

The worst Costco college shoppers are the international students because they don’t have parents with them and they appear to have unlimited funds. I watched two young men from an Asian country argue in their native tongue as they tried to load a leather sectional onto one of those flat bed carts. I was dying to know if they Ubered to the Costco.

I tried my best to maneuver past these large groups of students as they loaded up on paper products. As I was on the back stretch of the store, with a long clear aisle all the way to the pharmacy area I thought I could make some good time to the cash registers since the students we not there buying number ten cans of tomatoes. Just as I was nearing the pharmacy a lone very elderly woman pulled out of the detergent aisle right in front of me. I thankful I was not pushing a flat bed full of TV’s because I would have run her over.

She slowly weaved back and forth down the aisle making it difficult for me to pass her. God, where are the New Jersey families when I need them to push her out of the way. The old woman paused at the pharmacy and I was able to make a quick curve around her by the vitamins and make the 100 foot slide on into the checkout just behind three other people.

By the time my cart reached the belt I turned to start putting my chicken and salmon up I noticed the old woman was coming up behind me, “You passed me and got my spot in the line.” I looked at her with a puzzled look since that was at least three minutes before. “I’m sorry,” I said “I didn’t realize the line started at the pharmacy.” I wasn’t trying to be cheeky, but really, I did not know there was a no passing zone. “Well, I would have gotten here before you, but I had to come down another aisle because all these kids were blocking the detergent aisle, so I should have been in line in front of you.”

She had to be kidding me, but I looked at her with sympathy and said, “I know, all those back to college shoppers.” I took my chicken and salmon off the belt, even though they we all the way at the cashier at this point. “Please go in front of me.” Shit, not just the college shoppers annoyed me at Costco, but so did the old lady locals.

Life Among Quilters

My fabulous quilting friend Frances convinced me to join the Triangle Modern Quilting Guild which she has been a member of for a while. In the spring when I went to my first quilt show in Raliegh her guild was there so I signed up to join. They meet on Sunday afternoons once a month so I have not attended any meetings because that is not the most convenient time.

This month Frances was going to be giving a talk about the evolution of Modern Quilting so I really wanted to go. Frances helped me out by saying I could go with her because the meetings are held in the pool house of some subdivision in a no man’s land area kind of between Durham and Raliegh. Despite the awkward location, the meeting was exciting, and inspiring.

Other than Frances, and my friend Julie in Maine, I don’t know any other quilters. Apparently, quilting attracts many more introverts than extroverts so I might know some other quilters, but they are keeping that skill to themselves. I have taught myself how to quilt with the help of You Tube so I haven’t had the chance to talk about quilting with live humans.

I went to this quilt show in Raliegh in the hopes of meeting live quilters so I could maybe pick up some useful information. That didn’t happen. I walked around and looked at the quilts, most of which I did not like. The only people who talked with me were sewing machine salesmen. No help.

So today’s meeting was a fist for me. A room full of people who actually quilt. Thee was some business discussed and then Frances gave her talk which sparked a lively discussion about how people learned to quilt and inspiration. After a snack break it was time for show and tell. Frances told me to bring a quilt to show.

The head of the meeting started with the people in the back and asked anyone with something to show to come up. It was fantastic. About a dozen women had something to show. Each one was different, but I was thrilled because unlike the show, I liked all the pieces that everyone showed. It was also a little intimidating because clearly there were hundreds of collective years of experience in the room. But the quilters were friendly and encouraging and treated me so nicely when I showed my quilt.

I am inspired to keep working at this art, even though it is a lonely existence. At least now I have found some kindred spirits thanks to Frances.

Summer Saturday

As a family we believe strongly in gun control. We can’t imagine why automatic guns are needed for anything other than the military. The only thing we like is sporting clays. Russ and Carter are good shots. And Carter really got into shooting at Camp this summer. When she got home she asked if we could go to the farm and do some shooting.

My father, as the provider of all fun outdoor toys, happily obliged. Sadly most of our sporting guns were stolen and the only one left is my grandfather’s old 20 gauge. It was good enough for Russ and Carter to break some clays over the pond.

While they were shooting my Dad and I went to scout out new shrubs for our side yard. I am in the market for some holly and laurel bushes to create a screen along an 80 foot section of our yard. My Dad has generously volunteered to bring his tractors down and help me with this project.

Between providing toys and tools I am very lucky that my Dad is around and so spry and willing to help. To thank him we invited our friends Lynn and Logan to come up to the farm and take my Mom and Dad to lunch with us.

After lunch we spent the afternoon swimming while my Dad told Logan stories. It was a practically perfect way to spend a summer Saturday afternoon with two 80 year olds. The best part was none us of shot anyone.

Summer Corn Salad

What do you do when you discover once beautiful farmer’s market corn in the back of the fridge that you should have made two weeks ago? You make corn salad of course.

My hate of wasting food is well known. I am an expert at repurposing and reconfiguring food that I have previously made. I don’t ever cook anything that might be questionable, but I do find ways to improve ingredients that might be just past their prime.

I had four ears of what once were juicy, plump sweet corn on the cob. Rather than serving it in its natural state I cut the kernels off the cob to cook so I could improve them. I heated a fly pan on high until it was very hot, sprayed it with a little Pam and dumped the kernels in. I let them start to turn slightly brown before I stirred them once. Then after one good stir left them again. After about five minutes in the pan I sprinkled them with a little sugar and salt and cooked them another minute. Once cooled I tasted the corn and it was yummy. The perfect start to a summer corn salad.

Cooked corn kernels

Cherry tomatoes- halved

Cubes of soft ripe avocado

Balsamic vinegar – just a splash

Fresh basil leaves- chiffonade

Mix everything together and season with salt and pepper. Good with everything summery!

Exercise or Friends?

Just as I was finishing up getting my steps today an article came up on my IPad from WebMD about exercise. Now I know that WebMD can be likened to Entertainment Tonight or People Magazine, superficially informative, but not really an authority. Nonetheless I still read the article.

It was making the point that exercise if good for you. So far not news, but it went on to say that it is only good for you to a point and then it is bad. To say it more succinctly, 45 minutes 3-5 times a week is good, over three hours a day is bad. Thank god! What would I have done if the numbers were switched?

According to WebMD and some more reputable medical journal they were quoting, exercise can reduce the number of poor mental health days you have on average from 3.4 to 1.9 a month. I don’t tend to measure things in mental health measurements, because I have other measurements to worry about, but even so I like the outcome.

The article went on to say that team sports and activities with other people were the most beneficial — just because being with other people is good for you. Not that being with other people on the subway is good for you, but interacting with real humans out like is good.

I think that sitting around the stitchers table and visiting with friends, or playing Mah Jongg does the same thing for you. We just aren’t getting any exercise, but the health benefits of friends are better than exercise.

When I was a kid in the sixties no women exercised. Oh, they might have played tennis, but mostly doubles. No one was out walking, not like people do now. The only exercise machine that existed then was that strap that shook the fat around your bottom, which certainly did not work. But they all had friends.

My mother talked on the phone every morning to her best friend Shelly regardless if she was going to see her in the next hour or not. Back then friends got together all the time. My parents never ate a meal at home on a Friday or Saturday night, unless they were the ones throwing the party. Everyone was thin and no one exercised. I can’t tell you a thing about their mental health, but everybody drank like fish so who could tell.

I think exercise has replaced friends and that is not a good thing. People need to exercise because they don’t have anyone to talk to. I like friends better than exercise, but I think I need both. Maybe I should start a study to show that friends reduce the number of poor mental health days. I do know one thing, if I exercised more than three hours a day I wouldn’t have time for any friends and that would cause me poor mental health.

Happy Birthday Mary Lloyd

Yesterday was my darling friend Mary Lloyd’s birthday. To celebrate it Christy and I took Mary Lloyd for afternoon tea, all our favorite meal. Christy and Mary Lloyd are my very young friends. When Carter was little she used to ask me why my friends were the grandmothers. I would tell her I liked people of many ages.

There is nothing better than having an older friend to tell you what you can be expecting and a younger friend to explain what all the new fangled stuff is. I am thankful for friends of many stages. I especially cherish Mary Lloyd on her special day and am ever grateful to have such a kind an compassionate person who likes to do many of the same things I do like needlepoint and Mah Jongg.

So happy birthday Mary Lloyd. Thank you for keeping me young. I hope you got to put your soft clothes on early.

Cauliflower Quinoa Yumminess

A couple weeks ago I went to the very delicious Elements in Chapel Hill with some friends. We all decided the cauliflower quinoa dish was divine. So today my friend Nancy asked me if I had recreated it yet, because she was waiting. So I made my version for dinner tonight. Even Russ, not a cauliflower eater, said it was good. To top it off it is also vegan.

I changed a couple aspects of the original recipe. I roasted my cauliflower in the oven for ease, rather than grilled. I also used regular quinoa and not red, because that was the kind I found in my cabinet first. I did not make crispy quinoa because I did not want to add the calories or time. It was all just as good.

The key was the Trader Joe’s Marcona almonds because they have a touch of rosemary in them. I made a soy reduction sauce from sugar, rice wine vinegar and soy sauce and it was the bomb. Thankfully Carter wanted Greek salad for dinner so I have a whole leftover meal I can have another day.

1 Head of cauliflower broken into florets

1/2 cup of quinoa

1/3 cup of Marcona almonds

1/4 cup of dried cranberries

Soy reduction sauce

2 T. Sugar

2 T. Soy sauce

2 T. Rice wine vinegar

Preheat oven to 400°. Cover a cookie sheet with foil and spray with Pam. Put the cauliflower florets in a single layer on the foil and spray them with Pam. Put in hot oven and roast for about 20 minutes or until the edges start to brown.

Put one cup of water and a little salt in a sauce pan on high heat. Add the quinoa and stir. Bring to a boil, reduce to simmer and cover the pot. Cook the quinoa for 16-20 minutes, until all the water is cooked out. Just be careful not to over cook it so it sticks to the pot.

Put the cranberries in a small ramekin with 2 T. of water and microwave for 30 seconds to reconstitute them. Drain of any remaining liquid.

In a very small sauce pan put the soy reduction ingredients. Heat on medium and swirl the pot around until the sugar melts.

Assemble the dish by putting the cauliflower in a shallow bowl, sprinkle with as much quinoa as you want. Add almonds and cranberries and drizzle the sauce over the top.

Make three servings.

Unfinished Treasurers

As the great clean out continues I feel lighter and lighter. Even though I only do one or two cabinets a day it still stakes me quite a long time to deal with what I find. Today’s treasures unearthed include the invitation and gift list for our wedding. It was tucked neatly inside a stationary box that held the last few envelopes from our first formal Mr. & Mrs. stationary. It was such fun to read through the list and recollect who gave us what.

Less fun, but interestingly in the same cabinet was every checkbook, both personal and many businesses and all their deposit slip pads. I am not sure what some banks think, but for one account I came across five hundred deposit slips for one account. I have no problem disposing of checks from accounts long closed, but held on to the deposit slips for the active accounts even though I make all deposits on my phone.

The one bit of anxiety all this cleaning out does is it creates many new chores. One item I found today is a large 98% completed counted cross stitch sampler. I can’t remember when I started it, but Carter commented that she remembered me working on it when she was in Pre-school. It definitely was a multi-year project. What I want to know is why I did not finish it back then especially since I was almost done?

So after the days organization was done I sat down to work on this sampler. I realized that all the cross stitching was done and all I was left with the back stitching. Granted it is my least favorite part, but it is not so horrible to just give up on the whole project. I am glad that since I started needlepointing I have never started and abandoned a project. I have bought canvases I have never started, but once a stitch goes in I keep working at it until it is done.

It won’t take me more than a week to finish this cross stitch sampler and when I do I will feel like that is a big check off my 15 year list. Of course I could have done it long ago if I hadn’t lost it in the disorganization.

I am ever hopeful that once these areas are organized they will stay that way. Once when Megan Ketch was still our full time baby sitter, like fifteen years ago, I paid her to reorganize our linen closet. She thought it was a horrible job but she was an expert organizer and needed the money. The linen closet was also the storage area for all extra health and beauty items, so she had to go though years of first aid kits and tiny shampoo bottles from hotels around the world. I have to say that Megan would be happy to know that the linen closet has remained organized since her first big purge.

This is my goal. Get my office done and keep it done for the rest of my life in this house. Once it is complete and the weather gets cooler I promise to tackle the attic. I think it will be about January.

The First Sort is Easy

With Russ off in DC for the day and Carter staying quiet in recovery at home I continued the great clean out of my office after Church. My office has built in book shelves with cabinets and a huge stand alone bookshelf also with cabinets beneath. I have four filing Cabinets and six drawers. Then there are the endless decorative boxes and baskets all filled with random you know what. The goal of this great organization has not been speed, but thoroughness and thus it is moving very slowly.

If you were to come in my office you might not notice how much work has been done at first glance. Yes, you would be hard pressed to look at it today and say, where did the nine garbage bags of stuff already removed hide? It still looks full. It is amazing how much stuff a cabinet can hold. From one I removed two dozen software boxes containing, user manuals, CDs and other documentation for programs I used five or six computers ago. Why did we still have them? Russ thought they were needed for the computers we still had that used them. Why do we still have those computers? Since they are not in my office that is a question for another month’s clean out project.

As I sort and dispose of the unneeded and unwanted I often come across something I keep, like many random photos. I put those aside in another place in my office awaiting the “second sort” where I will put all photos and memorabilia in chronological order and then into scrap books. This is where the real work will begin. I think I stopped printing photos about 2006 so all these photos I am coming across now are pre that date. Sorting them is going to be a brain taxing event.

I do feel better than now I have all three of my glue guns and their associated glue still housed together in one clear plastic shoe box so I can find it when Christmas decoration making comes around. Also sending ten boxes of giant paper lips and an unopened box of industrial sized binder clips to Russ’ office is a better place than at my house. Not much paper is getting clipped here these days.

I hope that I don’t give up on this clean out and reorganization project until it is all done, but I fear even getting to the second sort. Along with photos I have not done my files. This is not as daunting as the photos, but still requires an attention to detail I can’t do while walking on the tread mill. Filing has always been my least favorite task and I can see that my life time of ignoring it is going to catch up with me here. The one thing I know is I don’t want to leave this mess to my child so I figure if I start now I can get it all done before I leave this world. Pray I live a very long time.

The Only Thing About Jersey

There was a very short period of my life when I lived in South Jersey. It was early in our marriage and I moved from DC to Russ’ small house in Palmyra. It was a cute four square house that Russ and I renovated so we could sell it and move to North Carolina. We lived between Jim the lineman for the electric company and Jim the lineman for the telephone company. Needless to say I was madly in love, but ready to move because I was just a little bit of a fish out of water in South Jersey.

There were no good grocery stores, no farmers markets, no one without big hair. The best restaurant in town was the Red Lobster so if you wanted to see a marriage proposal all you had to do was be there on Friday night. The staff was great at hiding the ring inside a lobster tail or a cheddar by biscuit.

There was hardly anything about South Jersey that I thought I was going to miss when we thankfully moved to Durham. I was wrong. I miss the Commerce Bank. Don’t get me wrong, I am perfectly happy with my bank here, mostly because my Banker is my friend, but no bank here had what Commerce Bank had, a coin sorting and counting machine in every lobby of every branch. And it was free to use, even by non-bank customers.

This was long before Coinstar moved into grocery stores and started charging a ridiculous percentage to count and sort your coins. On Saturday morning at Commerce the machine was busy with kids and their coin jars. It was a brilliant marketing tool. Once a kid poured his jar of coins into the machine and got to watch the works as it sorted and counted their money, with a small slip of paper produced at the end with their total which they took to the teller, they were hooked on this bank. I was hooked too. I would carry in a big sack of the coins Russ and I collected and loved turning that annoying change into twenties.

It was a free service. Girl Scout troops would bring their cookie money in, as would people who had yard sales. If I had played Mah Jongg back then I could have brought in my Mah Jongg winnings. Now that we live in a North Carolina I have to sort and roll my own Mah Jongg winnings. I refuse to pay CoinStar a percentage of my hard won gains.

So today, as I rolled my coins I pined away for Commerce Bank and South Jersey. I wonder if the two Jims still live on either side of Russ’ little house. It wasn’t a place that people moved away from, but that was just because they didn’t know they could and they too loved Commerce Bank.

The Only Thing About Jersey

There was a very short period of my life when I lived in South Jersey. It was early in our marriage and I moved from DC to Russ’ small house in Palmyra. It was a cute four square house that Russ and I renovated so we could sell it and move to North Carolina. We lived between Jim the lineman for the electric company and Jim the lineman for the telephone company. Needless to say I was madly in love, but ready to move because I was just a little bit of a fish out of water in South Jersey.

There were no good grocery stores, no farmers markets, no one without big hair. The best restaurant in town was the Red Lobster so if you wanted to see a marriage proposal all you had to do was be there on Friday night. The staff was great at hiding the ring inside a lobster tail or a cheddar by biscuit.

There was hardly anything about South Jersey that I thought I was going to miss when we thankfully moved to Durham. I was wrong. I miss the Commerce Bank. Don’t get me wrong, I am perfectly happy with my bank here, mostly because my Banker is my friend, but no bank here had what Commerce Bank had, a coin sorting and counting machine in every lobby of every branch. And it was free to use, even by non-bank customers.

This was long before Coinstar moved into grocery stores and started charging a ridiculous percentage to count and sort your coins. On Saturday morning at Commerce the machine was busy with kids and their coin jars. It was a brilliant marketing tool. Once a kid poured his jar of coins into the machine and got to watch the works as it sorted and counted their money, with a small slip of paper produced at the end with their total which they took to the teller, they were hooked on this bank. I was hooked too. I would carry in a big sack of the coins Russ and I collected and loved turning that annoying change into twenties.

It was a free service. Girl Scout troops would bring their cookie money in, as would people who had yard sales. If I had played Mah Jongg back then I could have brought in my Mah Jongg winnings. Now that we live in a North Carolina I have to sort and roll my own Mah Jongg winnings. I refuse to pay CoinStar a percentage of my hard won gains.

So today, as I rolled my coins I pined away for Commerce Bank and South Jersey. I wonder if the two Jims still live on either side of Russ’ little house. It wasn’t a place that people moved away from, but that was just because they didn’t know they could and they too loved Commerce Bank.

Premature Ending

Yesterday while I was at lunch with my friend Francis I got a FaceTime audio call from Carter. I excused myself to take the very bad connection call. Between cutting out and my saying,”I can’t hear you,” I learned that Carter’s knee was acting up, even in her giant brace. It has been an exceptionally wet and muddy week at Camp so that does not help my crippled daughter climb up and down the mountain.

Eventually we resorted to texting and she told me the Camp doctor would look at it last night. So when I got a call from the Camp nurse at 6:30 I was sure it was about her knee. “She is all right, but you need to come get Carter,” the conversation started. It was not about her knee, but another wack on her head. Carter’s summer as a camp counselor was over.

Since it was storming terribly and late to drive to and from the mountains we decided to wait until morning to go get our poor girl. She had to stay in the health hut, which was no way to say goodbye to her life long friends. She was so sad. One text to me said, “I’m not done being a counselor.” This was a job she loved, even when she was only working on half her cylinders.

I too was sad for her. I couldn’t eat dinner last night as I was texting with Carter. Sleep was not something that was successful last night as I worried about her. Russ and I were in the car before six this morning to drive out to Camp. We needed both of us so I could drive Carter’s car back home.

It was the rainiest foggy morning on the mountain as we pulled up as the campers were heading into the dining hall for breakfast. Carter’s campers were saying goodbye to her. They went into eat and Carter was left hugging her wonderful co-counselor Morgan. Morgan was a new Junior Counselor this year Carter lucked out to be paired with her. Morgan had packed all of Carter’s belonging and put them in her car so there was nothing left for us to do except stop by the barn and get her riding equipment.

I was thrilled to get my hands on Carter and spend the hours driving home with her to see exactly how hurt she is. Having a month at home will do wonders for her recuperation. Hopefully after her MRI we will know what the plan is for her knee. I think her head is not bad in the scheme of things. It is time for Carter to take care of herself and it is hard for her to end early. She hated leaving the people, but she just couldn’t handle the mountain anymore. Tonight I will sleep well with all my peeps under one roof.

Not Lost, Just Misplaced

In my deep dive cleaning out of my office, which I swear is going to take the rest of the year to really do properly, I have unearthed some treasures. The best thing I have found so far is our christmas elf. Stop reading this now if you are under ten years old. For the rest of you, our Christmas elf came to us via Barbara Collie. Carter was about three the Christmas that he came. She loved that elf. He visited us every December until one year, about four or five years ago he didn’t show up.

Carter was distraught. Where was our elf? He was a good elf, who moved every night in December, never missing a move. How could such a fabulous elf leave and not say goodbye? A new elf came to our house the next year, but he was not “our” elf and Carter never took to him. He was not as creative about the places he moved to, never hanging from the chandelier like our first elf. Some nights he even was too lazy to move.

I racked my brain to try and figure out where our elf had hidden himself. I knew he could not have escaped the house and I was right. In an “organizing” box in the cookbook corner of my office, under a package of decorative file folders I found our original elf. He was just as good as new. No worse of the wear, having lived in that organizer box for half a decade or more.

I rejoiced in a huge way. Since I don’t want that elf to hide until December, where he might get lost again, I asked him to hang out in my office until December. He agreed, if I promised never to misplace him again. I promised.

Shay’s New Groomer

We have reached a new level of pampered pooch at our house today. A few weeks ago I got a call from Shay’s groomer telling me she was closing her store. It was bad news, especially since it was two days before Shay was due her hair cut. I called a friend’s daughter who had opened up a mobile grooming service, but did not hear back from her because she was on vacation. At last we connected and set today as her first visit.

Mobile pet grooming is fantastic because there is no stress on Shay to be somewhere in public while she has all her work done. Shay has never much liked going to the groomer because there are other dogs there and she thinks she is a person. She would much prefer to go to my salon and sit in the chair for her hair cut.

Georgiana, showed up right on time. She set up her table in the garage and we discussed Shay’s limited options since her hair was out of control. Shay didn’t mind at all to stand on the little table with the collar to hold her in place. After an initial cut with the clippers she got a bath in the bathtub and then went back to the table for the finishing work.

In two hours she was practically perfect. No ride in the car shivering out of fear. No long Day at the groomer. No work for me. The grooming at home is the bomb. Georgiana is coming back! If you are interested is using her here is her card. Just say Shay sent you.

Is It Chauvinism or Laziness?

This evening Shay and I took a little drive over to the Mercedes dealership in Cary. Russ was bringing his Smart Car in for service and I was picking him up. True to form, I was early. So I parked my Ford C-Max and got out with Shay on a leash and walked around all the lots holding many, many unsold Mercedes.

The show room was still open as it said on the door, Sales until 8pm. I could see no less than half a dozen men in logo polo shirts, some sitting inside the showroom and a few walking around the lot. I looked at the stickers on sedans, SUV’s, station wagons and sport cars. I peered inside blacked out back windows to see how much legroom there was. I practically kicked the tires on all the cars. I was the only non-employee on the whole lot and the only woman.

As I was deciding between light tan or dark tan leather interior I looked at my watch and made a mental note about how wrong I was looking. I stood back from a row of varying sized SUV’s and studied how many different models there were. I looked at my watch again. I waited. I looked at the men sitting in the all glass box of a show room. I stared their way. I even raised my hand.

I looked at my watch again. Fifteen minutes. I had been walking around looking at cars a whole fifteen minutes and not one man spoke to me, looked at me or even thought that I might want to buy a car. You would have thought they were overwhelmed with customers and work. Didn’t appear that way.

Russ drove his car into service and filled out the form and dropped his keys in the box. Service closed two hours before sales. Ha, sales was closed as far as I could tell. I walked back to my car to pick Russ up. Only then did I cross paths with one of the men in a Mercedes logo polo. He spoke to me. All he said was, “Cute dog.”

What a foolish group of men. They had no idea if I could write a check for any of those cars. I made no contact with Russ, they didn’t know I was there for him. Was it chauvinism or laziness? Doesn’t matter, it was just stupidity.

Welcome Cucciolo

The person in our family who really should work at Durham Magazine is Russ Lange because he is always first to alert me about news going on about town. He was the one who told me the sad new that Phoebe Lawless was closing both Mini Scratch and the Lakewood, both of which we loved, but maybe not often enough. He told me about his beloved Basan closing before it was even announced publicly. That is a real blow to his office mates since it was across the street from CMG.

Russ is not just the deliverer of closings, but opening too. A week or so ago he altered me that a new Italian restaurant, Cucciolo, was opening up next to the West End Wine bar and that he already found out they were going to be making carbonara. That is big new in the Russ Lange world.

So I broke my cardinal rule of not visiting a new restaurant in the first week of their opening because Russ went ahead and made a reservation for tonight, the first night they were taking reservations. Apparently the place is owned by a Korean chef and he is not making Korean Italian fusion, just Italian. According to my source of all knowledge, Russ says the guy’s cousin owns the number one Italian Restaurant in Seoul, that has a Michelin Star, so this is the Durham outpost.

The space is not large, but has good lighting. We were waited on by a very friendly guy, Antoine and he was very enthusiastic about the offerings. Russ had already decided on the carbonara, but was overwhelmed with other choices in that starter category. We finally narrowed it down to a fig and goat cheese bruschetta with prosciutto and honey and a 3 mushroom dish. Both were outstanding. I was trying to be good so I had the green salad which I would go back for and Russ had a double of carbonara so he had leftovers for breakfast.

There was much on the menu we wanted to try and Russ was asking me when I was going out of town next so he can come back without any pasta guilt. I am sorry to see restaurants we love go, but happy the new one is worth multiple visits.

How’s the Weather?

When the Weather Channel first came on the air it quickly became my father’s favorite channel. He loved to know what was going on, not just where he was at that moment, but where he might be going and where he had recently been. I used to tease him about his devotion to the weather.

When we were working in London and he was building his new house at the farm he often called Alvin, the farm caretaker to discuss the weather. Since my Dad always talked on the speaker phone I usually could hear these conversations in my office, three doors down.

Alvin was a skilled builder and tinkerer, but was not a formally educated guy. This made for the most entertaining conversations. One day when my Dad called him after seeing some big Atlantic weather systems on the news this is how the conversation went.

Dad: Alvin, how’s the weather there?

Alvin: It’s fine now, but I ‘spec we will be getting something soon. See there is a big tycoon (not a typo) down in Costa Rica.

There was a pause, as my father suppressed a laugh.

Alvin: No, No, that wrong. It’s in Puerto Rico.

Ever since I have always referred to typhoons as tycoons.

In the twenty plus years since that conversation I have come not to make as much fun of my father as I used to about his devotion to following the weather. Now I too pay close attention, although mainly to where I live. My reason is for water management. I am anti-grass watering, but I do water flowers and vegetables. I am constantly making judgement calls about my need to carry buckets of water to thirsty flowers, or if rain is actually coming to do it for me.

I have never watched the weather channel, but I do count five different weather apps on my phone, two of which transmit to my watch. I guess you can say, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Puppy on the Payroll

Once in a while Russ calls me out of the barn for some strategy discussion for something he is working on. Russ is the professor of Agile Marketing, which is all new to me, but I am still useful in the sales department.

Russ has a few big things he is working on and asked if I would come to the office with him today and white board a plan. We could have done this all at home, but I think that Russ figured if he got me in the office I would be less distracted by some fun thing to do at home.

After dropping our friend Adam off at the airport, we were off to a Saturday at the office. Shay loves to go to the office. I think it is because she knows that is it Russ’ domain and we all know she would rather be with Russ.

When we pulled into the parking lot Shay practically dragged us from the car to the lobby door. She knows exactly where the elevator is and heads in first just so she can turn around and stand right in front of the door to be the first one out. When Carter was a little girl we used to call the elevator the magic room because you walked in one door and in a few minutes walked out the same door in a totally different place. I would love to know how Shay sees the magic room.

Once in Russ’ ballroom sized office Shay likes to run down the wood floor from one end to the other and slide on into the conference room. For the record Russ likes to do the same thing with her. Although she loves to come to the office, Shay is much less interested in actually working.

Russ and I took our seats in the all white board walled conference room and got to work. This bored Shay completely. She looked around to see if any of her other work team mates might be there for her to beg a snuggle from, but sadly, since it is Saturday we were all alone.

It did not take us long to work out a plan for Russ to follow on the projects he was working on. Perhaps he was right about doing the work at the office, but I also did have needlepoint with me since I think better while my hands are busy. As for Shay, as happy as she was to get in the office, she was just already to go back to the magic room to go home. I think she would like to be a puppy on the payroll, but only as the receptionist. Shay is just not that Agile.

Consumer Tipping Point

Yesterday my friend Christy and I went on a little trip to Fearrington Village for lunch and a little walk around the shops. Since the majority of her kids are at Cheerio just until Saturday she wanted to take advantage of her last few mother vacation days. We started out at one of my favorite stores, Dovecote. You know that kind of store where all the clothes are beautiful, classic and expensive and in between the clothes are really cute things you don’t need, but might buy for someone else, like books about how to live like a Parisian. I did buy a number of Christmas presents because I have five women in my immediate family to shop for.

As I was pursuing the “you really should buy this for someone else” section I was drawn to a cute blue and white note pad. It was all of eight dollars, but despite loving the original design and unique shape of the paper I walked away from it.

We went to lunch at the Belted Goat which was too yummy and followed it up with a look around McIntyre’s Books, one of the last great independent book stores. I love to read the handwritten reviews of books by the staff of the store. There were at least eight or nine reviews that made me want to buy the book. Then I thought about all the books I have sitting on or under my bedside table waiting for me to put down the needlepoint. So I just enjoyed the reviews.

After my vacation day yesterday I decided that today needed to be a work day. My original sweat shop, my office, has been greatly neglected by me since I moved most of my crafting hours to my new sweat shop sewing room. Having two rooms in my house dedicated to my hobbies seems excessive. My only defense is we thought we were going to have more children to fill those rooms.

Once I stopped consulting I really didn’t need my office for work. At first it became scrap book central and the storing place for all family files. Eventually I put a walking desk in that room so at least both Russ and I use the treadmill in there. I have taken a long pause on scrapbooking, despite still having boxes of photos that need to be cared for. But the office still has been the repository of all important family paperwork. That means that mail also goes in there to be sorted, responded to and filed. It has been a while since I had done any filing and thus the pressing need to work in my office.

As I was cleaning up the piles of paper, putting things in their rightful places, mostly the trash and recycling I came upon not one, or two or even three, but dozens of cute pads of paper, some still wrapped in cellophane with bows on them. I thought about how often I use a cute pad these days…not often since I make most notes in my phone so I can find it later. Still I do love a beautiful note pad.

I was thankful that I did not succumb to that blue and white pad at Dovecote yesterday. I decided that long go I reached the consumer tipping point. I probably have enough of everything in the non-consumable world that I will need for the rest of my life. Yes I still need to buy tooth paste and peaches, but dishes and certainly note pads, I have enough to last me for life.

It would be so great if I had been better at not buying something new until I had used up its predecessor. Perhaps then I wouldn’t have so much to clean up and care for now. So now add no new note pads to the list of things I don’t want people to give me. Just don’t give me anything, if I need it I’ve already got it.

Glamorous Life

I’m not one who ever was looking for a glamorous life. No hanging with the jet set, no designer everything. That being said I feel like my major buying decision today is polar opposite of glamorous.

I mopped the floor today with my old string mop that I have had for a number of years. When someone else helped me clean she liked this string mop, so that is what I use now that she is gone. Since my kitchen floor is black and white tile it shows every speck of dirt. I like it to be sparkling clean so that means I have to mop multiple times a week.

Mopping does not only involve the string mop, but what I call the dish towel shuffle. After the mopping with simple green and hot water I lay down four dish towels, two stacked one on top of the other under each foot. I skate around the kitchen drying water left after the string mop. It leaves the floor streak free. It also means that I wash at least a dozen dish towels every week.

Today my trusty mop broke. The metal handle just snapped right off the head that held the strings. I knew I had to buy a new mop pronto, but what kind to buy? I looked on line and it turns out there are hundreds of kinds of mops. I already own a swifter and it is not good on the kitchen floor. Then I looked at micro fiber, string, sponge, oh so many.

So I studied reviews of mops. Just as confusing. Granted this is not a major purchase, but I wish there were test mops. Russ suggested I go to our local hardware store since they usually have just the right thing. As I stood in front of the dozen or so choices for a good five minutes it hit me, this is the opposite of a glamorous life.

I chose one that was most like my old one since it worked well and took it home. Sadly, I am practically giddy with anticipation to get to try out this pristine, perfectly white and clean new mop. I am not cut out for high society in anyway.

Sharing Four Ways

Tonight I went to dinner with three of my needlepoint friends. Besides all being avid stitchers we all enjoy good food and most of us love to cook. We went to Elements in Chapel Hill, which has fantastic Asian fusion food. As I was looking at the menu one thing jumped out at me as something I had to have. It was a grilled cauliflower appetizer.

I should have gone with my gut and just eaten that for dinner, instead I offered up splitting it as an appetizer. Well, everyone jumped right on that. I should have ordered a second one as my meal, but instead I went with the walnut prawns, which are always delicious, but too much.

The cauliflower came and the four of us wasted no time enjoying it. Sadly I dropped one of my two pieces of cauliflower on the floor. One friend asked if it would be OK if she licked the bowl. No one thought it was out of the question.

After declaring it the best thing ever I decided I needed to see the menu again so I could read the list of ingredients in the hopes that I can recreate it at home. This plan was met great enthusiasm. The potential bowl licker want me to get right on that and share it with her the second I had perfected it and not make her wait for a blog entry.

It may not be cauliflower season, but I know what I will be doing this weekend as I try and perfect a soy reduction. I hope that my one bite of cauliflower will be enough to help me remember the taste to judge if my recreation is close.

Next time I go there I am going with my gut and ordering a double appetizer for my dinner and not offering to share. It’s not sharing that I mind, it’s just that I really wanted more cauliflower. Once I figure out how to make it I won’t be so selfish about it.

Tonight I went to dinner with three of my needlepoint friends. Besides all being avid stitchers we all enjoy good food and most of us love to cook. We went to Elements in Chapel Hill, which has fantastic Asian fusion food. As I was looking at the menu one thing jumped out at me as something I had to have. It was a grilled cauliflower appetizer.

I should have gone with my gut and just eaten that for dinner, instead I offered up splitting it as an appetizer. Well, everyone jumped right on that. I should have ordered a second one as my meal, but instead I went with the walnut prawns, which are always delicious, but too much.

The cauliflower came and the four of us wasted no time enjoying it. Sadly I dropped one of my two pieces of cauliflower on the floor. One friend asked if it would be OK if she licked the bowl. No one thought it was out of the question.

After declaring it the best thing ever I decided I needed to see the menu again so I could read the list of ingredients in the hopes that I can recreate it at home. This plan was met great enthusiasm. The potential bowl licker want me to get right on that and share it with her the second I had perfected it and not make her wait for a blog entry.

It may not be cauliflower season, but I know what I will be doing this weekend as I try and perfect a soy reduction. I hope that my one bite of cauliflower will be enough to help me remember the taste to judge if my recreation is close.

Next time I go there I am going with my gut and ordering a double appetizer for my dinner and not offering to share. It’s not sharing that I mind, it’s just that I really wanted more cauliflower. Once I figure out how to make it I won’t be so selfish about it.

I Want 12 Billion Answers

I am a social liberal and a fiscal conservative. Some people consider that an oxymoron. It makes me an independent since there is no party that is that. One thing I used to agree with republicans on was free trade. I felt like the market place was the best governor, not government. Back in the old days republicans used to work for the government stayed out of the way. What happened to those republicans?

When Trump imposed tariffs on steel and aluminum it appeared no republicans took him out back of the wood shed and explained that this just was not the republican way. No one explained the laws of unintended consequences. Trump seemed to care little for American companies that canned soup whose metal can costs were going up.

Then the countries who had tariffs imposed on them reacted with their own tariffs. Suddenly American farmers were getting hit with loss of markets for their hogs and soy beans. Those farmers mostly likely voted for Trump. Laws of unintended consequences.

So what did that tariffs loving president do today? Promised the farmers $12 BILLION in aid from tax payer money for the problem he caused them with his tariffs in the first place. Whoa, whoa, this was not something republicans did, that was a democrats thing.

So what I want to know is how a president has access to $12 billion dollars for something that is not a war or a natural disaster without having to get budget approval from someone? Is he giving them $12 BILLION of his own money. No, wait, he didn’t sleep with all those farmers so he it probably won’t be his money. We don’t have any idea how much money he has anyway since he never disclosed his tax returns. That is still something we should demand of candidates. We have no idea if he has investments that benefit from all this tariff stuff, or Russian stuff.

What I do know is this is not fiscally conservative. He claims that tariffs are “great” and that everyone should just be patient for them to work. Hey republicans, he’s your guy, take him out behind the wood shed and do something! If you need suggestions…

Sad Happiness

A few weeks ago I got a letter from my beloved friend and youth pastor at our church, Taylor, letting me know of the exciting news she had been called to be head pastor at a new church in Georgia. I had long been dreading this day, knowing that she was way over qualified to stay as an assistant pastor any longer. Since I consider her my friend first, I only could be thrilled for her, but I was also sad. Sad that I would be losing the opportunity to see her smiling face often, sad for our church that we no longer would no longer get to hear her extraordinary preaching and sad for the youth of Durham we won’t benefit from her wisdom.

Since my own child is not much of a church goer, my church life with Taylor was not centered around youth. I did get to spend time with her helping to raise money, but our relationship was built on our shard love of fabric craft, especially Marimekko, and other less churchy subjects.

As quick as I read her letter, I was texting her congratulations, but with tears. I am thrilled that she will head her own church since she is more than ready to steer a ship and spread the good news. I invited her to one last farewell lunch, since lunch was how she did spiritual counseling with me. We decided to invite Lynn and Sara to join us, but sadly Sara was at the beach.

Today was our lunch. Lynn and I got to hear all the news of her new position and the small southern town, just north of Savanah, that she and her family will move to. I know that church is so lucky to be getting this Harvard educated brilliant woman. I also know that somehow I will keep up with her as Lynn and I decided that trips to Savanah are in order.

I am so sad for my church and especially our head pastor Chris who is losing Taylor at a time when we have some other retirements. But we are not a selfish place. It is time that Taylor spreads her wings and takes this next step. I think her new church sounds perfect for her. I’m just a little jealous of them, they are getting a true gem.

Marriage of Nectarine Crisp and Bread Pudding

Yesterday I made some crostini for my friend’s birthday. I had lightly toasted the french bread without any oil or butter so that what I had leftover was repurposable. I also did not toast all the bread so I had some I plain bread in the freezer. As I was discussing with Russ my options for using the toasted bead we ruled out meatloaf. I noticed that I had more ripe nectarines than Russ and I could eat so I decided to make a bread pudding topped with nectarines and fresh bread crumbs on top.

It is the best of all worlds, pudding soft bread pudding as the base with juicy warm nectarines in the middle topped with buttered bread cubes sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. Not figure friendly, so thank goodness Russ is home to eat it.

1 loaf of french bread sliced

3 eggs

2/3 cup of milk

1/3 cup of cream

1/3 cup of sugar plus 3 T. Divided

1 T. Cinnamon, divided in half

1t. Vanilla extract

2 nectarines or peach’s sliced

1 T. Butter melted

Lay 3/4 of the bread on a cookie sheet and put in a 400° oven for four minutes. Let cool. Mix the eggs, milk cream 1/3 cup of sugar, half the cinnamon and vanilla in a bowl.

Cut up the toasted bread into small cubes and add to the bowl of egg mixture and stir until bread is covered with liquid. Place the bowl in the fridge and let it soak for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350°. Spray a small baking dish with Pam and add the bread pudding to it. Cover that layer with a layer of nectarine slices. Cube the remaining bread into small cubes and cover the fruit with them. Brush with melted butter. Mix the remaining cinnamon and sugar together and sprinkle it over the buttered cubes.

Place in oven and bake for 40 minutes.

Guild the Lilly by serving it with ice cream.

Memorable Days

Some days are more memorable than others. I remember exactly where I was on this day ten years ago. Russ, Carter and I were on a beautiful sail boat on Lake Charlevoix, Michigan to celebrate our friend Mick Hannan’s 40th birthday. His wife Hannah had arranged the whole trip and invited us to come alone.

Carter and I made quite an adventure out of that trip. We drove the Land Cruiser from Durham, first to Kentucky so we could visit the Kentucky World Horse Park. After two days there we drove on to Michigan where we stayed our first night with Hannah’s parents in St. Clair. Then we went on up to Harbor Springs which is the Nantucket of the Midwest. It was a lot of driving and it was then that I realized how much gas the Land Cruiser ate since it was the height of gas prices.

Russ flew in to join us in Harbor Springs in time for us to celebrate Mick’s big birthday. The remembrance of this trip and this day came back to me because today we went to Mick and Hannah’s to celebrate Mick’s fiftieth birthday. This one was a surprise and involved a lot less driving, but so many years of friendship and many good memories.

I look at the pictures from the big Michigan trip and am so happy I had so many good trips with Carter. After our time with the Hannan’s Russ flew off to go back to working, but Carter and I continued our driving adventure. We went to Mackinaw Island and stayed at the Grand Hotel. It was very Grand! And then we started our long trek home. Making a big stop in Frankenmuth, MI at the biggest christmas store in the world.

We drove as far as we could and then just spent the night some place in Ohio. It was such a fun time and we have Mick and his big birthday to thank for that. I wonder what we will do for Mick’s 60th birthday? I know I will always remember is 40th as one of my favorite trips. Since he is so much younger than me I hope I remember it until at least his 80th!

Friendship Album 1933

Since I had run two loads of laundry while the robot vacuum took care of the floors in the upper old bedroom section of the house I decided that I could spare a couple of hours at needlepoint today. The Christmas deadline is looming large and my needlepoint ornament count is woefully low this year thanks to my quilt manufacturing. One way or the other I am sure my stitching hours are way up for the year in total, but I had set a goal to add more red and white ornaments to my garland when I noticed that I had too many blue ones last Christmas.

I have not had as much time at the stitcher’s table and I miss seeing the regulars. It has been an especially hard year since Nancy, my friend the owner of Chapel Hill Needlepoint, lost both her parents. This is not the year to spend less time around the table.

While I was frantically working on finishing a little Noah’s Ark mini stocking my friend Francis sauntered into the store. Francis had been around the corner at Fly Leaf Books teaching a young writers class. “I turned the corner and saw the Needlepoint shop and said to myself, I wonder if Dana knows about this store and here you are.” Besides being a famous author, Francis is a divine quilter. I introduced Francis to the friends at the stitching table and we caught up on what she was doing.

I asked Francis about the next meeting of the Modern Quilt Guild and that is when she told me she was giving the presentation at the next meeting. I joined the guild a few months ago, but have been unable to attend any meetings so far. Francis offered me a ride to the next meeting and I took her up on it so I won’t be so awkward as a novice quilter showing up at a meeting of a group of people who all know each other who are probably professional.

Francis reminded me about her latest book, Friendship Album 1933 which is serialized on a podcast, a historical novel where quilting plays a major role. The Podcast is aptly named the QuiltFiction Podcast. When the podcast first came out I read about it on Facebook, but like so many things, probably did it at the grocery store while I was searching my phone for my shopping list, so it just went by me.

Tonight I subscribed to her podcast and started listening to it. Francis is a writer who puts wonderful color in her writing, but not so much so as to slow the story down. The beauty of the podcast is Francis is the reader, and although I know her voice so well I find myself forgetting it is her reading as she changes voices depending on which character is speaking.

Turns out listening to Francis reading is the perfect accompaniment to needlepointing. Unlike watching TV, I can keep my eye on the canvas and be totally engrossed in the woman Milton Falls. Oh I love having such a talented friend. I can hardly wait to get to know Eula and Florence better.

Tip Top Bread Discovered

Ask the internet and you will be answered. Yesterday I wondered if anyone had the recipe for Tip Top Inn Bread. This morning, before I had even had breakfast my Aunt Janie had texted me a photo of the recipe. Seems like some people from Connecticut gathered up Miss Dingle’s recipes while Tip Top was still standing in its glory and out together a small cook book. My Aunt Janie has one signed by Miss Dingle so I know it is authentic.

It makes perfect sense that some Yankees would ask for the recipes because Tip Top cooking was pure southern. Most southerners knew how to make the standards they served at the Inn, although I’m sure few made them as well, but few self respecting southern cook would dare ask for the recipes admitting that their versions were not as good.

Since I have been binge watching the second season of Anne with an “E” of life of Anne of Green Gables I was inspired to bake the bread like they did at the turn of the century. So with Tip Top Recipe in hand I baked up two perfect loaves. When I tasted the final product it was just as I remembered Miss Dingle serving in 1968.

No wonder I liked it, it is a very rich bread, with milk and Crisco, certainly not an everyday thing, but perfect for summer special occasions. I wish I had a smell blog so you could enjoy how fabulous my kitchen smalls. You will just have to bake some up to smell it your self.

Tip Top Inn Bread

When I was a kid we went to Pawleys island every summer. We left cool Connecticut in August to go to hot South Carolina, but we loved it nonetheless. My cousins lived two doors down from Tip Top Inn. Usually only guests of Miss Dingle at the Inn would get to eat there, but my father always talked Miss Dingle into letting us come for a meal or two every summer.

Since we were not Inn guests we rarely got to eat in the second floor dinning room where the ocean breezes would come through the open windows. We usually had to eat in the little room on the first floor. It was fine with us since it was the best food on the island. Guests were expected to dress for “dinner” which was the big mid day meal. In the little room we could get away with not being quite as dressed up, although covered up bathing suits were never allowed.

I liked the deviled crab served in the little crab shaped foil pans and the homemade bread. It was easy for me to recreate the deviled crab, but I have never had bread like that Tip Top bread. It was a moist dense bread that I think was made with milk. I would love to find a recipe for it. If any of you readers have any connection to Tip Top or remember the bread send me any info you have.

I think Sis Kelly also worked there and used to give recipes, but I fear that the women who worked in the kitchen did not use recipes and I may never be able to recreate that bread again. I am not much of a baker so I definitely need a recipe. If I taste something close I might be able to tweak it.

Never Ending Ortho

I cut my trip to Nashville short when my friend Mary Jo got sick and had to cancel our Nashville tour and breakfast. It turned out to be fortuitous because Carter called and said the camp nurse suggested she she an ortho doc for her knee. Turns out Carter already had a knee ortho doc in her stable of orthos on retainer.

So she drove into Durham as I flew in and together we went to get her knee checked out. As we pulled into what used to be Triangle Ortho Carter wondered what was up with their new name Emerge, and why she had not personally been alerted. Thankfully her regular suite of exam rooms had not changed and she and I caught up while she lay on the table under a couple of Mack Aldridge diplomas.

Dr. Silver came in and checked Carter out. He told her his daughter was at her camp and asked if Carter had met her yet. Since he was well aware of the mountain terrain at camp he put Carter is a giant foam knee brace. Thankfully no surgery or anything else worse is required.

I wonder if there will ever be a year we don’t make a major visit to the ortho doc?

So much for my travels. I like spending time with Carter more and this very short visit is a bonus. Back to camp in the early afternoon for her.

Blue In a Sea of Red

This morning I met up with the wonderful Sheppy Vann for breakfast. Between seeing her in Maine and now Nashville I have been lucky to keep up with her quite a bit since she and Dick moved away from Durham. We talked about her life in Nashville. She described it as a blueberry in a red state. I got that from their political ads for the August primary. Red candidates are proudly announcing they are Trump Republicans. From what I can tell the visitors don’t know that Nashville is blue because the ones I have encountered have been of the reddest kind.

After my time with Sheppy I went to the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. When in Rome… Russ was working and I had time to kill. Don’t get me wrong, there is country music I like, but I am no fanatic and I am blue. In my Talbot whites I stuck out as I refused to be a lemming and wait in the long line of the Loretta Lynn movie. The woman in the wheel chair in front of me was still waiting in line by the time I had seen the entire Loretta Lynn exhibit and had moved on the the Taylor Swift education center.

It is very hard to have a music museum without making it a bunch of small rooms with different music playing. Looking at stage costumes and handwritten lyrics on Holiday Inn stationary and old guitars is not what I was interested in. I wish it was more music.

Surprisingly my very favorite part was a movie about the Armadillo music venue in Austin, Texas. It talked about how they got Willie Nelson there and in doing so it attracted both “Red necks and Hippies” at the same place. Something about pot and beer played a big role.

As I felt like I was really a fish out of water in this oh so red place with men wearing their “Make America Great again” hats, and 70 year old women wearing black “Alabama” t shirts and denmin cut off jeansI had some hope that maybe by some miracle we could bring hippies and rednecks together again. We can’t do it by calling each other names, but maybe pot and beer could play a role, not that I am interested in either, but I am interested in a purple place, where both red and blue feel they belong.

Bachelorettes Take Over Nashville

Everywhere Russ and I have gone in Nashville this weekend we have encountered something we have never seen before, groups of young women, like six to ten of them, all dressed alike with either matching shirts or hats or something else that ties them together as a “team.” Yet they are not athletes, instead they are bridesmaids with brides to be. Apparently Nashville is a big place to come on a “hens” weekend, as the British would say.

It started at Biscuit Love this morning where we went for breakfast. In front of us in line was a grip of twenty something women in matching baseball hats. While we enjoyed our breakfast these girls did the sorority squat for a photo in front of the Nashville sign on the wall. It wasn’t annoying enough to impact our love of the breakfast, but Russ did wish he had gotten the hot chicken like I did.

After breakfast Russ and I went to Belle Meade Plantation for a tour. It was one of the few things we could do during the church hour in Nashville that did not involve a pew. On our way there we drove through the Forest Hills and Belle Meade neighborhoods and looked at the houses. Big does not describe them, Russ was most interested in what the average number of cars are per household since so many seemed to have fleets parked outside their garages. I assumed that not everyone was having a party during the church hour.

We enjoyed the tour with our historian/docent dressed in period clothing. While we were there we met a group of women all wearing matching pastel tied dyed tank tops with bridesmaid written across the chest and one in a white tank with bride. Russ congratulated her and she thanked him. I didn’t tell him you don’t say “congratulations” to a bride, but “best wishes,” because perhaps he was congratulating her on not having to wear the same ugly shirt as her friends. Based on these bridesmaids shirts the prospects for their dresses in the wedding are not good.

We followed the plantation up with a trip to the Frist Art Museum. On the way there we saw a group of girls all dressed in black tanks and short shorts with one with a white bride sash. Although the Frist had come recommended by a number of people we were incredibly disappointed in it. The one main show that we paid $24 to see was very strange. The other exhibit, which was free, was of civil rights era photos from local Nashville newspapers. That was interesting, but as far as art museums go it has a way to go. The Art Deco post office building which it is housed in was the best part of the whole thing.

It was early afternoon at that point ad since we were still full from Biscuit Love, but were a little tired of Bachelorette parties we decided to take a break from tourist things and went to the movies. We had a early dinner reservation at City House in Germantown so e went directly there from the movies.

We had a hard time finding the building because they did not have any sign on the building near the street. We circled the block three times before we deduced where it was because it was not the other buildings that had signs. The sign that we did see was 100 feet in from the street under a tree and not lit when we got there. We parked in a paid lot run by the only company in Nashville I have come to hate, Park Happy. Yesterday we got a ticket in Franklin when our parking ran over by fifteen minutes.

Today when Russ came back to the car with the parking receipt I asked him why he had paid for six hours. He said the choice was one hour or six hours, nothing in between and the change for running over time was $75. We decided that Uber might own Park Happy to encourage people to leave their cars at home.

One last sighting of a girls weekend bridal group was peddling the bar bike, which is a giant bike with many seats all with peddles and a bartender standing in the middle giving them drinks.

Weddings are expensive if you are a bridesmaid, so the addition of this weekend party seems to have taken the whole thing to a ridiculous level. Thank goodness I never have to do that.

No photos of Bridesmaids groups were taken by us so that no Bride will ever be embarrassed by this blog, but trust me I wish I could have.

Talkin’ Tennessee

My mother is from Knoxville Tennessee and Eastern Tennessee is all I have ever known about her state. In April I flew into Nashville to get to Paducah, KY, but didn’t spend a moment in Nashville. Then Russ got invited to speak at a conference in Music City so I opted to come along.

We flew in at seven-thirty in the morning with the time change so it was just too early to get in our hotel room or do anything really. So we drove down to Franklin, TN to have breakfast and look around. We opted to go to the Frothy Monkey because we just liked the name. The breakfast was only OK, but the town was cute.

Franklin was the site of one of the worst losses for the confederates in the civil war. A one day battle caused over 10,000 casualties. We learned all about this at the Lotz House Museum, a home of a German master carpenter and his family whose house was practically destroyed in the battle. Thankfully the family survived because they hid in the basement of their neighbor’s the Carter’s brick house. I had visions of the three little pigs.

After our enthusiastic docent pointed out the many blood stains on the wood floors and places where cannon balls came through the roof and fell all the way to the basement we felt that we had attained enough knowledge about the battle.

After a few more stops we headed back to Nashville. A visit to music city could not be complete without a visit to a honey tonk. Since that is not really either Russ’ nor my scene we decided to go and get it over with first thing. We stumbled upon the new Patsy Cline Museum on the second floor of the Johnny Cash Museum. It was small and very over priced, but Patsy is my favorite country singer so I enjoyed it. We walked past the honky tonk which even in the middle of the afternoon were just too peopley for Russ and two chickeny for me.

Thanks to recommendations from Sheppard Vann we had dinner at the fabulous Adele’s, no relation to the singer. It was a terribly hot and sticky day, but nothing I didn’t expect from Nashville. Tomorrow we will probably do the even more obscure. No boot shopping for us.

The Beauty Of Bags

As the amount of stuff you can take on planes gets tighter my packing organization gets more amped up. Back in the day when I was a consultant flying around the world I brought big bags with lots of stuff. I needed coats and shoes for different weather and if I was going to be working with one client for two weeks in a row I brought 14 different outfits.

Boy have I changed when it comes to packing and traveling. I could care less if I wear the same thing multiple times, even if I am with the same people. If you mix up the tops from the bottoms, no one really knows they are the same. As an woman on the upper end of middle aged no one even cares or notices what you are wearing anyway.

The real prime space is that of the “personal item” which used to be my purse. Back in the olden days your purse did not count as one of your carry on items as long as it was not the size of a small duffel bag. I could take a roll-a-board suitcase, a brief case and a purse. Long gone are those days, or supposedly. Every once in a while I see a woman carrying on five or six small bags which she should put in one bag, but she does not called out for it.

I am not that woman. I fear they will make me check something I absolutely do not want to put in the bottom of a plane. So I have perfected the packing of my personal item. It is a Scout bag with a zipper that I put a small purse in, and three bags each dedicated to a different subject; a needlepoint bag, an electronics bag and an art/journal bag. Inside my purse are also even smaller specialized bags. Nothing is lose, not even a pen.

This bag system means I can put my hands on any item I am carrying in a snap. I never have to dig around the bottom to find a small item and the best part is if, I mean when, my bag turns upside down in the airport, or falls off the seat in a cab nothing is dislodged, or lost. I love my bag system.

I just wish I were this organized in all the other parts of my life. The idea of only taking exactly what will fit in a small bag is a very freeing experience.

You Gotta Pay The Help

Today was the last day of Mah Jongg at the beach lessons, it it was the most jam packed. It started early with the advanced class. Thankfully Christy came up from Beaufort to help at all classes today. Before class started I discovered my car battery was dead, so I called AAA who I knew would show up in the middle of my teaching class. With Christy here I was able to run out and give the guy my keys while he jumped my battery.

I love teaching advanced classes. How advanced is always the question before I start with a new group, but it never fails there is plenty to share with players that helps improve their game. This group was fun and interactive in their learning. They want to continue with more “advanced” lessons. This adds to my need to return to the beach to give lessons.

Everyone here has been so nice and has made teaching them a pleasure. Joan, who is in my beginner class, knowing that Christy and I would only have a few minutes break between the advanced and beginner classes made lunch for us. The advanced class went over by a half an hour so we ran up to Reba’s Condo and Joan had our lunch set on the table all ready to go.

We ate a quick bite and went back to the pool house where many of the beginners already were there, raring to go. The third day of Mah Jongg is the most fun because they are “getting it.” Christy and Reba helped out with helping students figure out which hand to play. The time flew by. Happily, everyone graduated.

Now that the classes were over I want to properly thank Reba for hosting me and setting everything up and feeding me and Christy for aiding me in teaching. I took them to Beaufort Grocery for dinner. We has delicious squash blossoms, which were a first for Reba and then fabulous seafood. Mostly we had a good time together.

Christy and I decided we could teach 19 different levels of Mah Jongg. I am yet to get people to the strategy level which would be levels 17, 18 & 19. I am just happy that I am helping people stave off Alzheimer’s and exercise their minds while having a lot of fun.

I am looking forward to my next Mah Jongg at the beach class sessions. Thanks to my trusty helpers.

Reba’s A Good Agent

Day two of teaching Mah Jongg in Morehead and I am feeling very pampered. My friend Reba who is hosting me, has lavished wonderful meals on me. She did admit this morning that some Durham friends were worried that she was cooking for me and wondered if she was intimidated by doing that. P’shaw! Reba has made the most delicious things, especially her crab cakes and shrimp salad.

This morning since we did not have class until one, Reba toured me and her friend Joan Teer around Morehead. We visited Garner farms where they have the most beautiful produce. Russ Lange, I will be bringing some perfect tiny okra home on a Friday. We went to Friendly Market where they make prepared foods and pantry goods. Russ you are getting hot chow chow and Vidalia onion mustard. Then she took us to a very cute cooking store. Russ, you will be happy to know I did not see one cooking utensil I really needed.

While in that store a college aged boy who was with his mother held up a cannoli form and TOLD her she needed to buy that so she could learn to make him cannoli. Before I could stop myself I said out loud, “You could learn to make them for yourself.” His mother agreed with me. I think at that moment I was either not southern enough, or Uber southern.

After our shopping was over Reba drove us through “the Promise Land” section of Morehead where houses from Shakleford Banks had been floated over to Morehead after the hurricanes of 1897-99 made the island uninhabitable. Imagine floating your entire house and it’s contents intact across the waterway to a new location in the early 1900’s.

After lunch my best Mah Jongg assistant teacher Christy arrived before our dozen students. We started class by my asking who felt like they understood this game? No one raised their hands. I told them that was perfectly normal and today would be the day it would start to click.

I was thrilled as different people at each table won a game and the ones who did not win were close to winning. I know that tomorrow will be an even more successful day for these novice players.

After class Reba took me and Joan to the Coral Bay club where we heard a talk from a darling young southern writer named Kristy Woodson Harvey. After the talk we ate dinner on the terrace and then got some steps on the beach. While at a Coral Bay many woman came up to Reba and asked her when her next Mah Jongg Class was going to be because they “had to learn this game.” Reba has her work set out for her as my Morehead Mah Jongg agent.

It has been a very full day, and I need to get my rest because tomorrow I am teaching an advanced Mah Jongg Class in the morning and the last beginner class in the afternoon. Now that I have a waiting list for my next class here I need to make sure these people feel like they really learned a lot or else my beach Mah Jongg career is over.