Pharaoh, Bring Me Some Farro

The first time I ate farro was when I had to cook it in a “Chopped” like dinner where guest brought the ingredients for a dinner they bought at an auction. They wanted to stump me, but as I reminded them, they we eating what they brought so if they wanted to eat tarantulas I was happy to cook them.

Despite not even having heard of Farro, which they brought In a plain white bag so I had no hints on how to cook it, I loved it. That night I “risottoed” It, which turned out to be a fine way to cook it. Since then I have learned it is much simpler to cook than risotto and that it can be cooked in advance and used in many dishes, from cold salad, to hot sweet morning oatmeal like dishes.

This recipe is how to cook farro and a cold vegetable medley mixed with farro.

To make basic farro:

1 cup farro

3 cups of water

1 t. Salt

Rinse the farro before cooking. Place grain, water and salt in a pot with a lid. Bring to a boil and reduce to simmer covered for 30 minutes. Drain the farro when done. Now it is ready to be used when it is cooled, but it can be eaten at any temp.

1 eggplant diced in 1/2 inch cubes

3 zucchini diced in 1/2 inch cubes

1 red pepper diced

1 large sweet onion diced

1 pint of cherry tomatoes halved

6 big basil leaves- chiffonade

6 big mint leaves -chiffonade

Heat up a big fry pan to very hot and spray with Pam. Add the eggplant and salt and pepper and cook it stirring only a few times for five minutes. Put in a bowl.

Reheat the fry pan and do the same thing with the zucchini. When done add it to the eggplant

Reheat the fry pan and do the same thing with the onions and peppers. Add to other vets when done.

Let the veg cool. Add the cooled cooked farro, cherry tomatoes and herbs. Taste for seasoning.

I used this mixture with some mozzarella cubes and a splash of balsamic vinegar as my dinner. The farro is very satisfying. Tonight I will put a piece of grilled salmon on top and omit the cheese.

I’m In Trouble Homemade Cocktail Sauce

I have created a monster of my own making. I made homemade cocktail sauce with oven roasted tomatoes and now I can’t keep enough of it in the house for Russ. First you have to know that Russ comes from a serious cocktail sauce loving family. They put it on their thanksgiving turkey. I am not saying it is the answer to a dry turkey, but…

Russ is also a lover of the spiciest food you can make. You know when you go to a Chinese restaurant where they can make things as spicy as you want, Russ always has to convince the waiter that he wants things “Chinese hot,” not Caucasian hot. They usually don’t believe him.

So I made this cocktail sauce for the intern dinner and it was good, but the longer it sat in the fridge with the flavors marrying the better it got. Now Russ is asking that I have it as a staple in various stages of aging. What have I gone and done? Only make this if you are willing to commit to it for the long haul.

Roasted Tomato Cocktail Sauce

Eight nice sized ripe tomatoes

1/3 cup of grated horseradish

1 shallot minced

Juice and zest of one lemon

1/4 cup of V-8

Salt and Pepper

Preheat oven to 300°. Cover a cookie sheet with foil and spray with Pam. Cut the tomatoes into quarters and place then cut side up on the tray. Sprinkle with salt and Pepper. Roast in oven for 2 hours. Then flip the tomatoes over onto one of the cut sides and continue roasting for another 45 minuets. Take out of the oven and let cool.

Place the tomatoes in a bowl and break them up with a spoon. Add all the other ingredients and mix well. Taste for salt and pepper. Let chill for at least two hours, but more time the better it will get.

Great on seafood, or a very dry thanksgiving turkey.

My Black and White Phase

All through the cold of the winter I was quilting with bright and happy colors. Now that summer is here I seemed to have turned to black and white. I don’t understand this reversal of color palates to the seasons, but I am loving working in black and white.

I also needed to take a break from the large format quilting, having made three oversized king quilts as my last colorful projects. I have turned my attention to placemats. They give me lots of room for creativity and I can finish the whole project myself.

I need to work on some Christmas presents, but before I turn to that I am making a series of alphabet placemats. As I make letters for each person I got to thinking about what if there is a guest for dinner. I don’t think I can make a whole extra set of 26 letters to have just so the guest can have their initial. So I made a “?” so anyone can use it. I hope that the guest is not offended by a question mark. I hope they see it as cheeky because that is how it is meant.

I am not sure when I am going to move out of the black and white phase. I am fighting the color scheme for one of my Christmas gifts because I don’t want to work in brown, which is the color that would best fit the receiver. I know gifts are supposed to be about the person you are giving them too, but when you make a gift you have to spend a good amount of time looking at it. I don’t think I can spend two weeks looking at brown.

If I ever go through a brown phase, call the doctor, something is wrong with me. For now I am going to love my black and white phase.

Getting There or Back is Not the Thing

I love to go places, but I don’t always like the “traveling” part of getting there. There is nothing glamorous or exotic about it, not like when I was a kid. Going on a plane was the best part of any trip back in the go-go sixties, especially to a child. But now even kids hate planes.

Yesterday Russ and I had an 8:30 PM flight home. Around 6:30 we did get a notification that the flight was delayed an hour and fifteen minutes later it went to 9:45. Hey, at least we were notified while we were still at Suzanne’s so we could eat a little dinner and watch a little more Ozark.

We went to the airport and when we got to the Delta club the nice guy checking us in told us that they hadn’t updated us with the whole story. The plane was delayed coming from DC, and that was what our first message was about, but they hadn’t bother to let us know that the crew was coming from Chicago and they were delayed another hour and a half. In the end we didn’t take off until 11:45. That’s way past my bedtime.

Russ is good at sleeping anywhere so he was out on the plane. I didn’t want to take a nap at midnight because I might never have woken up to get off the plane. So I looked out the window at the lightening for two hours. I watched us circling waiting for a break in the weather to get our plane down and thankfully we got one, even though it was not optimal. That pilot tried his best to put down our sideways swaying bird, but it took a couple of hard bangs to get it to stay on the ground. It was not pretty, but I was thankful just to be in North Carolina even if it was close to two in the morning.

There just isn’t an answer I can afford to make travel easier. The traffic on the roads makes driving tough. Airlines are no fun. I don’t go enough places that are accessible by boat and I can’t afford a private jet. A tour bus with a driver, like rock stars have, seems ideal, too bad I can’t sing. I refuse to just stay home so I might have to take up drinking again to put up with the getting any place.

Not Enough Time With These People

My NYC art plan for today was to go to the Met, but then Suzanne texted me at 4:01 AM, because that’s when middle aged women wake up, “It’s the Puerto Rican day parade today. Check the route because it is going to make things difficult.” Thankfully I did not wake up at 4:01 to read that message, but when I did wake up and read it I knew I had to change my plans.

The Met was out since it was the ending point of the parade. Getting across town was also going to be difficult if we didn’t do it before 11:00. So all our plans changed and thankfully Suzanne, and the boys were up for the new plan.

Susanne’s, sons, Jack and Oliver are my honorary children and I am their aunt/crazy friend. They like to do a lot of the same things I do, especially play games and they are good players. Ever since they were little I would play at my normal competitive level with them so they consider quite a badge of honor to beat me. So given the chance to try they take it.

We started by going to brunch. Jack, at first thought he might not go and just chill since he has a serious internship at Bloomberg this summer and needs to rest for work, but then he decided more time with me and Russ the better. It was a sweet move.

After brunch we went back to the house and played four hours of bridge. Since Russ does not play he was a very good sport and he entertained himself, he couldn’t even walk that much since it was raining.

Jack got worn out from the brunch/bridge combo so Suzanne and I moved to watching one of her Netflix shows she is hooked on, Ozark. As our flight home kept getting pushed back we watched more and more. Sadly Russ and I left without finishing the episode we were watching only to be told at the Delta club that the flight has been pushed back even more.

Sometimes not knowing what might screw up your day in advance means you end up doing something so much more fun. There is nothing I like more than time with the Worden/Farley’s and they are so generous with their time, feeding us and supplying lifetime of stories and laughs.

The really good egg award goes to Russ for hanging out while I did things I love. Thankfully this is the absolute end of my birthday celebrations. Think, he only has ten and half months until he has to do it again.

Good Wood Saves the Day

Russ and I almost bombed out in the art department today, but Suzanne came to the rescue. We started our day sitting in the window of an Israeli restaurant having breakfast and watching the early morning dog walkers and faithful on their way to services. Of course those are two different groups, the dogs were not going to services.

My favorite thing I saw at breakfast was the couple at the table in the corner, he with his big ass headphones on watching something on his supersized iPad sitting on the table easel style and her, with her big ass iPad sitting on the table easel style watching something different. It is one thing to both be looking at your phones at the table, but watching whole shows is a new low in the lack of interaction. They weren’t eating and and they were there before we got there and we left before they did.

After our breakfast Russ and I took a good walk in Central Park. After many number of steps I took a break and sat on “Amy and Betty’s” bench, who apparently were very committed to each other according to the plaque. I watched what I thought was a father teaching his 8 year old son how to throw and catch a baseball. The “father” would really wind up and throw the ball hard for a few throws, then would lob up high balls, all of which the kid was able to catch, even if the hard ones smarted a little. Suddenly the throwing was over and the pair went over to a mother with a stroller and another child. She handed the “father “ something and he waved goodbye to the kid and walked off. Apparently he was a baseball tutor. Not something I see in Durham. So much for the tender father son moment.

We continued our walk all the way down Central Park West to Columbus Circle. Both Suzanne and my sister Janet had suggested I would like the Museum of Art and Design. They have rotating exhibits and since this is an Art and Design kind of weekend I thought it would be a hit. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I am not sure I have ever been to a museum where I honestly did not like one thing I saw in four floors of exhibits. Talk about a dud.

Iced tea was my only remedy to this poor art situation so we stopped in at the bar of the Landmarc in the Time Warner building and chilled out with extra lemon. The bartender had to ask me if when I wanted extra lemon in my tea if that was code for vodka. Sadly it was not.

By this point in my walking day I needed a shower so we walked back and got clean before I took the subway downtown to meet Suzanne and her friend Chris at the Whitney to see the Grant Wood Exhibit. It made up for my need for good art today. Way beyond just American Gothic the exhibit had quite a huge gathering of Wood’s works. My favorite was the one of George Washington cutting down the Cherry tree and being admonished by his father. Wood used the face of Washington on the dollar bill but put him on a young boy’s body. The whole thing was very cheeky, especially the way George seems to be blaming the axe and not appearing to be remorseful.

While I was looking at good art Russ walked all the way downtown and met us at the Whitney where the four of us enjoyed a lovely dinner outside. No humidity and the perfect 75 degrees. It was so nice that we decided to walk the entire length of the high line to get us further uptown and home. My walking total for the day was 9.25 Miles so with American Gothic, Russ and good friends I count it a very good day.

Belated Birthday Celebration

When Russ can’t think of anything to give me for my birthday he makes a certificate for a trip. There is nothing I like better than a trip. Who needs more stuff? I want memories. So this birthday trip is a double duty, a birthday trip to NYC and one where I get to see my best college friend Suzanne and four fifths of her family. Good job Russ.

We got into the city and after some fine sushi for lunch Russ and I went to MoMA. Art and vacation are a favorite combination of mine, but the other art patrons are what really make going to MoMA fun. I could have spent all my time looking at the people looking at the art. Some of the outfits were high art themselves.

After a tea break and good use of the subway we cleaned up and went down to the lower East Side to meet Suzanne and Steve for dinner. There can almost never be a dinner long enough for all the topics we had to cover, after children and families we finally got to Trump and other idiots. Since that conversation is so much longer than a dinner we went back to Steve and Suzanne’s house.

The fur babies, Chance and Esme, greeted us at the door and I got to get real hugs from Jack and Oliver who make me feel like one of the lollipop boys in the wizard of Oz they are so tall now. If only Carter and Grace were with us we would be complete.

Since we had tired of All things Trump, and let’s face it, haven’t we all, we changed the subject to TV shows. We spent a good hour discussing our favorite binge worthy shows, and thankfully Steve took notes. Now I have a whole summer’s worth of quilting and needlepointing shows to keep me company while I work.

What a fun way to belated celebrate my birthday. Tomorrow, more art, walking and Suzanne.

Beep, Beep, Beep

For the last few days my house has been surrounded by men working at different houses using machines that beep when they go in reverse. Beep, Beep, Beep fills my head. It seems to get louder. It definitely gets more annoying.

I understand that the beeping was an added feature to help protect people from getting run over by a backing machine. My question is how is the backing more dangerous that going forward? Yes, it is the drivers responsibility not to run someone over, going forward of backward. Now we have sensors that can alert drivers if they are about to hit something. Can’t we require those and do away with the beeping?

See the beeping might bring on a worse problem. One where I purposely run into the beeping machine just to silence it. Or why don’t we do away with reverse on these vehicles all together. Just go in circles rather than going back and forth.

Based on the constant beeping I feel like these guys working near me are doing nothing but going in reverse. Are they deaf?

Strawberry Perfection

For our dinner party Monday I made a mixed berry cobbler. I used blueberries, blackberries and strawberries. I had bought the strawberries at the farmers market, so they couldn’t be more local.

Given how much rain we have gotten I was not sure the strawberries were going to be good. You never want berries that were picked after any rain. They need the sunshine to give them the sweetness and not let them be mushy.

As I washed and sliced the berries I noticed that they were red all the way through. Not like those supermarket berries that get shipped hundreds of miles, red on the outside, white on the inside. That is a recipe for no taste. The red is the flavor.

It is not going to be that rainy this week so it is the perfect time to buy local strawberries while they still last. Look for the reddest darkest berries you can find for strawberry perfection. It will make you swear off long distance berries forever.

Try eating your strawberries with balsamic vinegar and black pepper. Up next week, local tomatoes.

Miss America,10 Eagles and the Over Dresser

Oh, so many things got my attention today. Gretchen Carlson saying that the Miss America Pageant is doing away with swim suit and evening wear. I can hear pageant coaches and sequence sewers across the south wailing as they run to the unemployment office to file for benefits.

This certainly has to be the nail in the pageant coffin. I doubt that average, even slightly homely women who are bright enough to nail the interview portion of the contest are going to line up to be judged by the group of D list celebrities who chose the winner. It would be great if only women stand-up comics entered so at least it would be a good show.

As far as I know the president who once owned the pageant has not weighed in. I wonder where he is going to troll now for his next wife? Instead of crying over the loss of swim suit contests he was busy disinviting the Philadelphia Eagles to the White House. Apparently only about ten members were going to show up and that number is easy to count in a photo so there would be no way he could say it was the largest crowd of football players to come see a President.

Instead he had the ceremony of him and the military band while paid staffers made up the crowd of onlookers. Talk about the worst kind of government waste. Paying workers to be an audience for the President is the definition of a swamp.

And now in local news, I went to lunch with my friends Mary Lloyd and Christy to celebrate Christy’s birthday. It was a perfect day to sit on the terrace of the Wadu. The bonus was it is restaurant week so we had a three course meal for $15. We all could only eat half our lunch and we took the other half home.

That’s not the news, but what happened while we were at lunch was. For years my friend P. would ask me if I knew who the lady who always over dresses and eats all the samples at the grocery store is. I was never sure who she was talking about, but then this woman came out on the terrace with a lot of rhinestones on and I knew at once she was the one P. has inquired about. I don’t know who she is, but at least I can put a face with the mystery. I think the restaurant week special is practically like getting free samples.

Anyway, to tie this whole thing together, the overdresser is probably sad at the loss of the evening wear competition because she is hardly ever out in public in anything but evening wear. Sometimes the world moves on without you.

Surprising Daddy

Last night, while Russ was asleep next to me and I was watching Steph Curry rain down his record breaking threes, I got a text from Carter at camp.

“Is the intern dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Is there room at the table for me?”

“Always”

“I have 24 hours off and at didn’t really say good bye to you all. Can I come home for the night.”

“Of course. Do you want to surprise Daddy?”

“Yes. And can I bring my laundry.”

“Of course.”

He didn’t notice her car in the driveway when he pulled into the garage tonight. He is so used to it being there. But it was a nice surprise.

So I got a bonus visit from Carter today. Just three loads of laundry. Working in the barn is a smelly job. She had a little rest and joined us for the intern dinner. It was a nice group of young people, all from UNC, who were interesting and polite and I am sure exhausted from their first day at work. It is a lot of being on for them. Carter always enjoys meeting the interns and the ones who get hired on for real jobs and come back year after year to the intern dinner.

Sadly she has to get up early and drive back to Camp, but it was a nice surprise to have her home for a few hours. I’m not sure if we will get a proper goodbye tomorrow but this is all a bonus anyway.

Superior Guest

Tomorrow is Russ’ company annual intern dinner at our house. It is one of my favorite opportunities to entertain because I enjoy meeting the summer interns, who always impress me. It is my goal to make them feel welcomed, valued and important, because great interns often turn into superior team members.

Over the last week I have been designing a menu, shopping, cooking everything from scratch, including the cinnamon ice cream to top the berry crisp. I have pickled shrimp and roasted tomatoes to make homemade cocktail sauce. There are three tomatoes pies and two giant tenderloins. The watermelon is chilling for the watermelon and avocado salad. Everything is set.

Along with the interns, the rest of the team members who will be in Durham are invited. This year we have a special treat with one team member from San Francisco bringing her four year old daughter to dinner. I wish I had not thrown out all our old phone books for her to sit on at the table. I am sure a couple of big pillows will work.

As I was out shopping for food yesterday Russ texted me that a beautiful flower arrangement had been deliver to me. Such a big surprise from Mark Schweitzer, a senior member from DC. Included was a nice note thanking me for hosting the dinner and looking forward to being at our house on Monday.

It is one thing to bring a small hostess gift when you come for dinner, it is another thing to send flowers in advance and it is way over the top in the manners department to think about sending flowers three days in advance so that they will be at their peak on the day of the party. Also coming three days early means I don’t have to think about flowers on the day of the party.

Flowers of this magnitude are something you might do if someone were hosting a birthday party for you, but this is a work party. I am going to have to take lessons from Mark on how to be a superior guest. I hope that my dinner lives up to his flowers.

Put Herself to Bed

Shay turned seven two weeks ago. She has only ever lived here in our house, except for vacations when she lives with her friend Mary. For almost all these seven years Shay can be found right beside one of us. Her first choice is Russ, except if he is on that terrible treadmill, Carter and I are a distant runner up pair. If Russ is not home she certainly will snuggle with one of us and not complain, anything is better than being alone.

After all these seven years we think Shay has finally gotten comfortable enough at home that she can chose to be alone. Tonight she was given her dinner before Russ and I sat down at the counter to eat ours. Half way through our meal Russ asked if Shay was on her bed in the kitchen. Since he can’t see her bed from his seat at the bar I looked down and announced she was not there. Russ looked behind him to see if she were waiting patiently for a treat from his plate and she was not there.

“I guess she put herself to bed,” he announced.

Sure enough, I went upstairs after dinner and found her passed out In the middle of our bed, with no idea if either of us was going to come up and join her. I don’t think she was so exhausted that she needed to fall over asleep at seven PM. Perhaps she has finally settled in and realized this is her house and she is safe and sound here. Seven years, that’s a long time to feel at home. I guess we can’t ever move, she won’t live long enough to get comfortable.

Got My Sewing Room Back

Don’t get me wrong, I loved having Carter home for a few weeks, but I did miss my sewing room. I felt like since I took over the larger of the two rooms she came to think of as hers when she went to college I would kind of let her use it when she was home. That meant no sewing for me and only a little bit of ironing. Not that I missed the ironing, just meant it all backed up.

Carter left last Sunday morning so by Sunday afternoon I could’ve get back in “my” sewing room fast enough. I started binge watching the last season of Billions, did all my baskets of ironing and of course made a quilted product.

My last giant quilt required me to pay my long arm quilter a small fortune so I vowed to work on some projects/gifts that I quilted myself. I am interested in improving the “quilting” portion of being a quilter, but I don’t want to buy a new machine to do it.

So I decided to make a table runner because it would be a workable size to quilt. Since it is a gift I wanted it to be as perfect as possible. I was making up the design as I went along and it wasn’t until I had connected the three large squares I made that I came up with a plan for quilting that seemed to be something I could handle.

In the end I was very happy with the finished product, but I only quilted straight lines. Now I need to move on to making some placemats and try some more adventurous quilting. So much to learn.

I Spent The Day in The 1950’s

In a huge attempt to try and ignore the bad in the world that I can not change I have retreated to an era I never lived in, the 1950’s. Back before television ran ugly news 24 hours a day, when movie stars had morality clauses, before you could watch the stock market plunge moments after some idiot government employee made a stupid decision.

Today I watched no news, read no Facebook, I listened only to music I chose, it made for the perfect head in the sand day. In perfect 1950’s style I worked at my sewing machine. I roasted tomatoes to make homemade cocktail sauce. I made the base for a homemade ice cream I will be serving at a dinner party. I made four dozen ham and cheese rolls for a funeral tomorrow. I

I dusted and ironed and then I did the ultimate 1950’s activity for a house wife, I met my friend Hannah for lunch.

We had salads, trade stories of our children. We did not talk about current events. We did not talk about our husbands. It was perfectly lovely.

The only problem with this 1950’s day is that like the fifties you can only live in denial so long. While you are not paying attention wars could break out, politicians can rob you blind, and most people will be marginalized.

So I have to come back to the real world. I have to ensure that I am contributing to not just my family, but my community. I have to hold people accountable. I have to manage my world. I still have to make food for funerals. Some things don’t change.

Review of the Reviewers

Today at Mah jongg my friend Morgan showed up at my house with a grocery bag full of fruit she had leftover. Raspberries, blueberries, strawberries and cherries now fill my fridge. What a wonderful surprise gift.

Monday we are having Russ’ company teammates for our annual intern dinner as a way of welcoming the class of summer interns to the company. I had already made my menu because I have a lot of cooking to do. I am not sure if any of the teammates eat at all before they come to our house, but they usually eat everything I prepare and I always prepare too much.

My original menu included a buttermilk pie for dessert, but with all these beautiful berries I am going to make a change. I went online to do some recipe research. Nowadays I like to read reviews of recipes before I get invested in them. My only problem is I would like a review of the reviewers.

When someone comments that a recipe did not work for them how am I to know if the reviewer is a novice or expert cook. I wish that there was some rating system for the people who comment.

Back in the old day, when I just used real cookbooks I first would judge a recipe by the reputation of the author. Julia Child almost never has let me down, and Julie Rosso and Shelia Lukins of the Silver Palate are equally reliable, but their books are old now and don’t always include ingredients or dishes that are in fashion today. Don’t get me wrong, I still use their books, but sometimes I want something they don’t have.

So I turn to the Internet. When I input search words I often come up with something from All Recipes, although it might be perfect fine, I usually don’t even bother to look at that site because there is no quality control, unlike a site like Smitten Kitchen or Bon Appetite, where at least the recipe is tested.

Writing recipes is hard. I know that from experience. I cook, then write from memory. I don’t measure when I cook so my recipes are approximations. This is fine for cooking, but not for baking.

All this reading of recipes and the reviews, and the reading between the lines of the reviews to determine if the reviewer is an idiot is a lot of work. No wonder I just make things up as I go along. I wish I could do that in baking and have anything turn out.

Maybe rather than looking for berry cakes I should just make ice cream. I can do that without a recipe and with my eyes closed. I don’t want to make a pie since I am making tomato pies as part of the dinner and no one needs a two pie dinner. What a wonderful problem to have.

Roseanne Is Exactly Who She Always Has Been

When ABC announced they were doing a reboot of Roseanne I thought they had really sold out to bring back that woman. Her twitter history of slurring anyone who is not white, straight, American and republican was clear before today. I am happy that despite high ratings and thus good revenue ABC took swift action when Barr tweeted out her slur of Valerie Jarrett.

Just because the guy in the White House tweets out all sorts of unsavory slurs does not mean that the rest of the country has to sink that low. If we all would stand up to that kind of bullying we would be a better country.

Now Roseanne is claiming that we didn’t get her “joke.” I am all for comedy, satire and wittiness, but there was no fine line between those things and Barr comparing Ms. Jarrett an ape. But no one should be surprised by this, least of all ABC.

Did they do no due diligence on her by reading just a year’s worth of her twitter feed. She has acted this way forever so I sure she is wondering why this crossed the line. Well it did, and thank goodness for decisive response.

I feel sorry for the people who work on her show, like camera and lighting people, who are now out of work. The best thing that could happen is for ABC to find other work for them right away.

We do have freedom of speech in this country and Roseanne has the right to spew whatever kind of hate her black heart comes up with, but we don’t have to reward her with money and a platform on a network TV show to spread her kind of evil. Standing up to bullies is the right thing to do and ABC did that today. But hey, do your homework before you give another hater a show so you don’t have to go through this again.

Don’t Say “Happy” Memorial Day

It’s Memorial Day. Yes, it is the unofficial start of summer, which brings about a lot of joy and celebration, but the reason for the day is a most somber one. Remembering soldiers lost in battle is worthy of a day, but is the end of May the right time of year?

In the commonwealth countries they call this kind of day Remembrance Day. Citizens wear red paper poppies to remind everyone to remember the lost. Remembrance Day is held on November 11, the day of the end of the hostilities of World War I. Being held in November means that it is not a day for picnics, or swimming or barbecues so there is no confusion about the reason for the day.

I notice that around here lots of people say, Happy Memorial Day. I am guilty of this too, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. If I had been a soldier who was killed in battle I would just want to be remembered.

I am lucky that I don’t have any close relatives who were lost in war. The veterans in my family made it home and have Veterans Day to celebrate them. Nonetheless, even though I didn’t have any singular person to remember, I did take a few moments to think about the sacrifices made by families who did lose a loved one serving in our military. To them I could not imagine saying, “Happy Memorial Day.” What is happy about losing your family?

So maybe we should move Memorial Day to a time of year when we aren’t tempted to celebrate summer at the same time. We could switch President’s Day in February with Memorial Day in May. All those dead President’s won’t care since we already combined George and Abraham’s birthdays into one day.

If you are someone who lost a solider in war, thank you for your sacrifice. This day is in many ways for you too. Not really a happy day.

Back to Camp

And like that she is gone again. Home less than a month, the longest stretch of time we will see her all year, Carter has now gone off to her true home, Camp Cheerio. She will be there three months, in her happy place. Finally she is a Senior Counselor, the job she has wanted for ten years. It certainly was the long play to get it.

She went today, two weeks before camp officially opens, to get the horses ready for the campers. She will spend girls session as assistant riding riding director. Good thing she has the big ‘ole land cruiser because she packed that thing full of not just her camp stuff, but her riding and grooming equipment. Her car was more full than what she brought to college. Of course she doesn’t have a horse at college.

So grooming and riding the horses this week. Staff training next week and then the campers come. Girls camp is four weeks this year. Then Carter moves from staff to Senior Counselor with a cabin. She won’t know which cabin until closer to co-ed Camp, but she hopes for the older girls.

It was a lovely few weeks with her home, even though she was back and forth three times to Cheerio working the weekends. No real drama. None of the trouble adapting to being home that I remember from college. That is what makes this departure today even harder.

I guess that long ago I came to accept that she likes camp better than home. I can’t really blame her. So good luck Bug. I hope it is the best summer yet. I know the work will be hard, the sleep will be little, but the friends are the best.

Anything For Shay

I heard whimpering from Shay before I heard the thunder. She stood at the top of the steps begging me to follow her. Being skittish about storms is a relatively new thing for our six year old baby. Since I had been doing nothing except cleaning all day I thought I could take a break and give Shay the comfort she needed as the storm approached.

As I came up the steps Shay headed for my bedroom. I came through the door and discovered her snuggled down on my new white quilt on the bed. Our bed is her home base safe space. This is what I get for making a mostly white quilt.

Of course quilts are made to be used and loved so the fact that Shay loves to snuggle on it is fine with me. It’s funny that even though the thunder was still clapping Shay stopped crying and shivering once she was at her home base. Oh well, dogs are more important and things.

I Miss Old Refrigerators

I had my day all planed this morning. My friend Jeanne was coming from DC and we were meeting at needlepoint. Our visit was going to be short because I was needed to be at home by one to have my refrigerator finally repaired from my May 9th original call.

I got to needlepoint and got to see Jeanne and Nancy and some bonus friends, Lane, Jane and Amy who all came in while I was there. My visit with Jeanne was much too short and I hardly got any time with Nancy. So sad for me since this was the fun part of my day. I was not planning on seeing any other friends in person since I look like a prize fighter with my eye. (And thanks for the messages of concern. It is an infection and I saw the doctor yesterday.)

I was home at my appointed four hour window for the repair man to come. I thought it was my lucky day when he showed up at hour three. So much better than two hours late like last time.

He took apart my refrigerator, something he did not do at the diagnoses call two weeks ago, and discovered that the back was full of frost and ice.

After thawing it out he said he might not have to replace the motor he had ordered. I was a little perturbed by this since it was something he could have done at my original visit. It turned out that the broken motor was actually broken so he went to replace it. Guess what, they had sent the wrong part. Three to ten days to get the right one and the automatic scheduling program set up his next visit to put the second and hopefully correct motor in on June 20! See Sears is very short on Techs because some other company came in and poached them all for better pay.

Children around Hope Valley might have learned some new words from me I was so mad. So here are the take always for today. Don’t trust that the diagnostic tool that tells the tech what is broken is the only thing that is broken. Make sure they actually order the right part. And don’t buy any products made or sold by Sears and especially don’t buy the extended warranty.

I miss the days when you bought a refrigerator and it was still working thirty years later in the garage.

Primland We Loved Ya

A few years ago our friends the Toms came home from this resort in the mountains of Virginia that we had never heard of raving about what a fun time they had. Then our friends the Prebles did the same. More and more friends had visited this place, yet in all the years we never saw one bit of marketing, not an ad, or an email, or a pop up on travel sites.

Apparently being a best kept secret is how Primland wants it.

When we realized that we had only a few days all summer to take a break with Carter before she goes off to Cheerio for the whole summer we decided that the resort that is only two and a half hours away was the perfect answer.

We arrived at the 12,000 acre resort along the south side of the blue ridge parkway. The gate was very unassuming, but once the voice on the other side of the speaker verified we were guests the doors swung open. We were instructed to follow the signs to the lodge. Thank goodness the signage was good because as we drove the winding roads climbing higher and higher up the mountain we did not see another car or person for the seven mile drive to the lodge.

As we rounded the final switch back the lodge came into view. It was a large, not huge shingle building where four men were waiting out front to greet us. We were staying in one of the pinnacle cottage which were another small drive from the lodge. Our suite was a huge two rooms with two big porches over looking the most astounding view across a valley to another mountain.

Primland was originally a hunting lodge and property of 3,000 acres bought in the seventies by a French family who, over the years amassed the current property four times its original size. They lumbered the property at first, but in 2006 changed the focus to a resort.

We we fascinated with the economics of such a huge property can work with a gorgeous golf course, big hunting operation, fishing and many other outdoor activities and only 26 rooms in the main lodge, five cottage of about 4-6 suites in each and a handful of fairway houses. So of course all three of us asked every worker we encountered all about the operations.

What we found out is that the family who owns it is not concerned with making a profit, “just don’t lose money.” What a model. It certainly pays off for the guests. To that nothing is inexpensive, but it is anything but crowded. While we we there there were only about fifty guests spending each night. The staff was all a twitter about the 150 guests that we’re coming for the holiday weekend. Seems like it is not what they are used to.

There were a few things that made us realize that there were not many of us there. Like one morning it appeared they were short staffed in the kitchen. Our exasperated server was furious that it took them so long to poach me two eggs so she comped our whole breakfast. Carter and I had scheduled some spa treatments and when one of the staff showed up sick so Carter’s massage was canceled. The spa director, who was also a massage therapist, gave Carter a free half hour massage when they couldn’t get another therapist to come in.

Those things were minor in the enjoyment of our vacation. Carter announced it was her favorite vacation we have taken. That is a high bar. We will definitely go back. I think we will stick to the non-holiday visits so we don’t stress the staff.

La Luna

While I was holding a hot compress to my eye most of the morning Russ and Carter were shooting skeet. Turns out, like golf, Carter is a fairly good shot. That makes two new expensive hobbies she has taken up in three days.

Russ, being the frugal one in the group went out for the most difficult hike while Carter and I went to the spa. His phone registered that he did 84 flights of stairs in an hour and fifteen minutes. Even though it looks like I was punched in the eye, no one at the spa said a thing to me.

Being our last night on vacation (the name of the place will be revealed tomorrow when I am at home) we made the most of it. Our resort has an observatory and after dinner we went up and had a star gazing time with Lauren, the resident astronomer. It was the only clear night since we have been here so we felt lucky to see Saturn, Venus and a number of different galaxies. We also saw the international space station fly by. Carter got this fantastic photo of the moon through one of the smaller telescopes.

After star gazing up high we went down low and sat by the fire pit where s’mores are always available. Other than the glow of the fire there were very few lights on so we could see the stars we just learned about.

As we walked back to our cottage with only the light of our phones and the moon we saw the shape of some big animal pass in front of us. This type of nature is not the kind Carter likes. It didn’t like us anymore either and kept moving away from our cottage so we got in safely.

Back to hot compresses for me and the hope that tomorrow I will start to be on the downside of this stye. Carter has already announced she is going to the driving range before we go home. What have we done?

What’s Scary

It never fails, just as we go away for a small family getaway I get a stye in my eye. I woke up yesterday feeling like I had been punched in the eye in my sleep, but other than pain bellow my eye and in my lid I was fine. Russ thought I might have been bitten by something while gardening. I did not think much about it yesterday, it then I woke up this morning with a much more swollen eye. UGH!

Hot compresses are the thing to do, but that is just not convenient or easy. So I tried to wear my big sunglasses all day to hide my unattractive eye. Thankfully thee were very few people on the hiking trial Russ and I walked today. It was considered moderate, which I should realize means hard for me.

We saw two deer, a giant spider and soon after that a tiny mouse ran right by me and under a rock. I was more afraid of the mouse than anything.

While Russ and I hiked Carter was taking a golf lesson. The pro said this morning that she was incredibly coachable. Must have been true because after her lesson she came to get me to show me her driving. I was astonished at how consistently straight and far she hit it. Hard to believe that she never played all those years at Hope Valley and now she likes golf.

As we were walking to the pool we saw a big black snake which made Carter run faster than she ever did in any basketball game. The mouse was still more scary to me than the snake. Of course the scariest thing of all is me without my sunglasses on.

When Did I Get So Short?

I used to be accused of being much taller than I am. When compared to my truly tall friend Lynn, I was considered equal or taller than her. It had nothing to do with my actual height. “I’m not tall, I’m just loud,” was my response. Well, it was not absolutely true, yes I am loud, but I was above average in height, which makes me on the tall side, just not as tall as Lynn.

I am able to reach high shelves in the kitchen without a step stool. I know that all the dried chilies are on the top shelf and I can grab them without aid. I can’t reach the canister of chicken broth powder without the help of the kitchen tongs, but I am tall enough to put it back on the shelf without the tongs.

Since Carter has been home I have noticed that I am on a different level from her and Russ. They could be having a totally different conversation without me up there is the stratosphere. I feel somewhat inferior.

Now with my new found shortness I wonder if I had left any of my short friends out of things inadvertently? Had I ever talked over someone’s head with no notice of their facial expressions because they were not on my eye level? Had I hung things too high for a vertically challenged friend to see?

Being around Russ and Carter gives me a new appreciation for people with all kind of handicaps that I might not have appreciated before. Now that I have the worse eyes in the family I am feeling very feeble.

Yes, I am sure I am shrinking. Gravity has that affect on all of us if we are lucky enough to live long enough for it to take effect. But I don’t think I have shrunk that measurably much. It is just the perception that I am so far the shortest now. It is all relative, and when your relatives are giants you feel even shorter.

What Are You Wearing?

When I was a kid in grade school it was common practice for girls to call each other and say, “What are you wearing to school tomorrow?” It was code for, “Are you wearing a skirt?” For some reason girls didn’t want to show up at school and be the only girl in a dress. Why, it hardly mattered since if we were wearing a dress or a skirt we were also wearing shorts underneath. Mostly it was that we never wanted to stand out so if you matched with your friend you had an automatic ally.

This is not a practice that continues for me into adulthood. Sometimes I will call a friend and inquire what the dress code might be. Once in a blue moon I end up buying the same dress as a friend, so I might ask her if she is wearing “our” dress to an event to prevent showing up wearing the same thing. I never want to be included in a “who wore it better” spread because I will be certain to loose that.

Tonight we went to a party at the Teer farm. As Russ was getting dressed I told him that we were going to be outside and to change his leather loafers to boat shoes since the ground was saturated. I wish I hadn’t done that because it meant that he did not totally match his very close friend Logan.

I know they did not call each other and ask, “What are you wearing?” It is just the psychic thing that happens between Russ and his close friends. More days than not when Russ and his business partner Rich go to a meeting together they show up wearing matching outfits and I am not just talking white shirts and khaki pants. At some point I think Russ might need to adopt calling his guy friends and finding out what they are wearing, just to make sure they aren’t matching.

Nothing Like A Royal Wedding

Like so many people I woke up this morning to see our American Princess marry her prince. I figured it was my last chance to watch a British Royal wedding of any consequence for at least another quarter century and no one does weddings better than the Royals.

To me the highlight was Bishop Curry, who until recently was the North Carolina Episcopal Bishop. His homily really rocked the stiff upper lip crowd, who looked nervously at their programs. I was waiting for Oprah to give him a big, “Amen.”

It was such fun that the whole thing was held at Windsor where they have the best chapel. As the newly married Duke and Duchess were parading in the landau carriage right after the ceremony all I could think of was how in the world did all those people get to Windsor? It’s not such a big town, with very little parking and the train service from London is not direct.

Russ and I took Carter there one March Day a few years back and I remember we had to change trains.

As Harry and Meghan were driving in the carriage surrounded by the queen’s horse guards, I thought I recognized a few. That same day we went to Windsor he happened upon the horse guards having their annual photo taken in Hyde Park. Of course they do all look alike in their very fine uniforms.

There is nothing like a good Royal wedding to take the world’s attention off Brexit. I think that Meghan is the right person at the right time for Britain. She appears to have the queen’s blessing based on the story that the queen gave Meghan’s dog a ride out to Windsor. The best way to the queen’s heart is either through a dog or a horse.

The saddest part for me now that the wedding has come and gone is this means the news is going to turn back to our “I am the king” guy in the White House. It was so nice for a little while to pretend he wasn’t there.

The Beauty Of Collaborations

Today was a really fun day thanks to two people I collaborate with in totally different areas of my life. The first was my long arm quilter, Tina Schwager and the second is my bridge mentor and great friend Deanna Larus.

Over a month ago I dropped off my most recent pieced quilt top and back at Tina’s house. It was my largest and most favorite quilt I have designed and sewn so far. It was a complicated design where I used a lot of negative space so the quilting was going to be paramount in the design.

Tina is a true artist and I love collaborating with her on what the possibilities are to turn my flat work into an even better 3-d piece. I had envisioned a very complicated quilting design, but Tina took it even two or three steps beyond anything I could have imagined.

I have on illusions that I will ever be able to do this level of quilting myself. I don’t have the space for the right equipment and it is not the way I want to spend my time. But I do create the quilt pieced designs with the quilting design in mind and I love that Tina is able to translate my vision onto the finished quilt.

I can hardly wait to get to work hand sewing the binding edge this weekend and putting this quilt on my bed.

My second great collaboration is at the bridge table. Twenty years go I learned to play with my friend Deanna. She went on to be a life master and this year has pulled me back into bridge by being my mentor. She has her choice of practically any partner and could be much more successful in the point count if she wasn’t playing with me. I so appreciate her generosity to teaching me. It is thanks to her that I get master points every time we play together. I know that I can never catch up to her, but I look forward to the day I am not her handicap.

National Ed Carter Day

Sorry if today happened to be your birthday too, but today is reserved for my Dad who turns 80 today. It is shocking to think he is 80 because he hardly seems any different that when he was 30. Maybe because he hasn’t changed one bit.

It helps when you lose your hair young, because then you don’t age. You don’t get grey hair when you don’t have any. It helps that your vocabulary is still as colorful as ever. I never worried about Carter learning “bad” words from my Dad because they were said just like regular words and with the same frequency.

If you look up the definition of generosity in the dictionary there is a full color photo of my Dad. He always has advice for everyone and usually it is correct.

If you ask him to write something it will be long, even if you were just looking for a summary. He wants to know you are really paying attention to him when he talks and you know he is serious about it when it starts with, “Follow with me now…” And it always starts with “Follow with me now…”

He might make you mad, but he is often right. Maybe you are mad about the way he tells you, because he will always tell you when you are going the wrong way.

If he likes what you are telling him you will know it because he says, “yeah, yeah.”

There has never been a better story teller, but you probably should cover young children’s ears.

He never thought he would be 80 because he started many conversation with me as a young child with, “I have to tell you this before I die.” At first I was worried that he was going to die that or the next day, but then I realized he has a lot to tell me before he dies so it is not going to happen anytime soon.

If he likes you, you are the best person on earth and if he doesn’t you are a dumb ass and no one is in between.

So on this National Ed Cater day I just want to tell this before I die, now follow me, he is one funny son of a bitch, yeah, yeah.

My Favorite Grade School Teacher, Dale Stoelting

Today, many schools around North Carolina were closed because teachers went to Raleigh to protest how schools are funded and they are treated. When I was a kid my parents moved to Connecticut because the public schools there were so highly rated. Back in the sixties teachers were at least respected, but still not always well paid.

I think that as working conditions went the teachers in Wilton were on the high end of the scale. That being said, I am not sure they were paid enough to live in Wilton. I say this because my very favorite teacher, Dale Stoelting, who was both my fourth and sixth grade teacher rented a room to live in at someone’s house in Wilton.

I was very fortunate to have her as a teacher. My fourth grade class was extraordinary and when we moved on to fifth grade we kept in touch with Miss Stoelting even though we were in a different building. She missed our class so much she made the unusual move to change from teaching fourth to sixth grade and somehow got most of our original fourth grade back.

Having her as my teacher for two years meant that I really got to know her well. We had her over to our house for dinner, which was the most exciting thing to me. That was how I learned that she didn’t live in an apartment or a house. It seemed so wrong to me, as a child, that such an important person in my life did not earn enough to live independently in the town where she worked.

Now Wilton did not have any high density housing due to strict zoning laws. That seemed very short sighted even to me way back then. How could we attract good teachers if we don’t have any place for them to live?

The current state of the public schools in North Carolina is not a map for success. Most of the problems we have in the whole country could be solved with better education. If we want to have people to take care of us in old age, we need to do a good job educating young people today.

I would love to know what happened to Miss Stoelting. She was the kind of teacher that inspired her students to be their best. She was the first teacher who encouraged me to use my voice and stand up for what I believe in. That is priceless.

Growing Old Together

In the ever stretching out of all things Birthday my dear friend Sara took me to lunch. Since she is fighting unknown food allergies we went to Happy and Hale so she could have a salad of limited choices. I was perfectly happy to go along with this plan, but felt guilty eating somethings on my salad, which she could not. It seems that no matter how old we get new allergies can pop up. This hardly is fair that she has to cut out most all foods and then slowly add them back to see how they make her feel.

As we enjoyed our salads we discussed a group we are both part of. We wanted to talk about new officers we had received word of in an email, but neither of us could remember who always on the list.

“Who sent the email?” I asked so I could look it up on my phone.

“I don’t remember,” Sara replied.

I scrolled through back emails, wondering why I had not deleted messages from the Boston Globe, Talbots and the American Cancer Society. Eventually I found it. I read the names allowed one by one.

“I don’t think I know her,” I said after one name.

“I think she is tall and skinny.” Sara told me. Not enough information for me to figure it out.

“Who is that one?” Sara asks.

“I think I met her once, but I can’t recall what she looks like or where she lives.”

And so it went on like that. Of the group of a dozen names we thought we knew maybe half, but of that we still could not be sure. Some of them I might know by sight, but could not put a name to.

When we finished that fruitless exercise we decided it was a good thing we have known each other as long as we have because we might be all we have as we get older and less and less reliable in our recall of people we have met.

I used to be able to tell you where everyone I ever met grew up, went to school and worked. If I were pushed I could describe them to a T so that a police sketch artist could reproduce such a likeness that they would be instantly recognizable. Those skills are completely gone for new people I meet these days, but I can still recite all that information for all my high school and college friends perfectly.

At church we have these little “friendship pads” in each pew where we write our names each Sunday and pass the pad along so we can learn the names of the people in our pew. When we first joined our church I thought it was a silly exercise because of course I knew everyone’s name, even when I was a fairly new congregant. Now I wait for that friendship pad to be passed to me so I can refresh my memory of who that young couple is sitting at the end of the pew, where they have sat three weeks in a row.

I don’t think I am losing my memory any faster than anyone else or that I have a memory issue, I just think my younger recall was extraordinary and now I am less than average. At least that is the way I measure myself compared to Sara. I wish we both were better at remembering, but I feel like I am in good company. Thankfully she has been a friend for so long I’ve got her in lockdown in my mind.

Playing Hooky

The best kinds of days are ones where I get to play an unscheduled Mah Jongg. My friend Carol had lots of family in town over the weekend for Duke’s graduation. In true form she had so much leftover yummy food that she had to have an emergency Mah Jongg game so we could eat up her leftovers.

Not only did we have delicious lunch but she had so many bouquets of flowers that she gave me two to bring home. Lunch, Mah Jongg, lots of games won and flowers, cha-ching a great way to spend the afternoon.

This feels like a bonus to Mother’s Day. Thanks to Carol. The only reason I don’t feel guilty is that I got lots of done at home this morning. Of course, even if I did feel guilty I still would have played. Never pass up a chance to play with your friends. Your work will always be there.

Happy Mother’s Day and Dad’s Birthday Brunch

After a successful surprise birthday dinner last night we had the not-a-surprise birthday brunch for my Dad this morning as well as celebrating Mother’s Day for my mother and me.

All our out of town guests had stayed at my friend Shelayne’s Courtyard Marriott in Danville, which they all said was wonderful. Thanks to Shelayne for making that happen. They took a walk along the river before arriving at the farm to have a big brunch, which my sisters, aunt and mom had made with me. It was almost more fun than the party the night before.

After everyone ate strata, fruit, salmon, bagels, and ham biscuits we gathered in one room where I read a tribute to my father from my best childhood friend, Tom Hurdman. It was written in old English so I passed out the copies of it for everyone to follow along as I read it. Thankfully Tom had given me a translation. My father loved it and it was a hit with the gathered friends.

We had such a good time reminiscing about all our old times together and vacations taken together. It meant so much to my father than these friends made the trip all the way to the farm to honor him as he turns 80. It sounds like such a big number for such a young guy.

Sometime after noon the last guest departed and our nuclear family was left to celebrate Mother’s Day. I gave my mother her needlepoint pillow which I had finished for her. Carter game me a tea towel that said, “OMG, my mother was right about everything,” and a darling wooden box filled with notes about what she loves about me. Let’s just say those are about the best gifts I ever could have gotten. Plus she is cooking dinner for us all tonight.

In true Carter fashion she came to Russ’ rescue with the best Mother’s Day present he could give me, a trip for the weekend to visit Carter in Boston in the fall. How she worked out a gift for herself in the process is brilliant and much appreciated by me. I think she has offered Russ a gift consultant contract and he may be signing it.

This was a very successful weekend. We surprised my father and he was not unhappy about it. We got quality time with dear old friends, and we were all together for Mother’s day. I hope your weekend was at least half as good because then I know you were happy.

Dad’s Surprise Birthday Party

My dad is turning 80 next week. It is not really something he seems to be very excited about, but it’s a pretty good thing. Our friends Anne and Mark offered to give him a birthday party up in Annopolis. My dad declined. So my mother decided that if he didn’t want a party in Annopolis she would throw him a surprise party. Oh lord, this plan was fraught with lots of potential pitfalls.

First my mother had to find a place to hold it that was acceptable. Then she had to save up the money to pay for it. Then a very small guest list of only the closest of friends had to be drawn up, most of which were coming from Washington, all the while keeping this all a secret from my father. The hardest part of the whole plan was how we were going to get him to go to this restaurant at the right time.

My mother asked me to invite him. I asked Carter to ask him, thinking that he would never say No to his only grandchild. She did and he said No. So my sister Janet had to get involved. Eventually he gave in and said he would go to dinner with my mom, sisters and my family, but he wasn’t happy about it.

The out of town friends were staying at the nicest hotel in Danville and they all dutifully arrived at the restaurant on time. It was decided that we would not say “surprise,” because we didn’t want to scare my Dad. He walked in the room and when he saw all the friends gathered there he said exactly what I predicted, “Shit!” He may not have been happy at first, but he quickly warmed up.

There were many of the friends we had worked with in London, Washington or Kansas City together. It was so fun for me to see them. I think my Dad had a good time and my Mom pulled it all off.

Mark Schweitzer, who has known my dad since Mark was nine years old, just a mere 51 years ago gave a lovely toast, as did Cousin Harry. My sister Margaret said many sweet things about my Dad and I gave him the bad news, that we were having all these people to the farm tomorrow for brunch. Surprise! A second party. There is nothing he hates more than having a surprise party, except when it is with people he really loves.

I hope he remembers this as a very fun night because it really was and my Mom did a fabulous job to make it happen.

Waffle House Nightmares

I was driving in my car today with NPR playing as is my custom and I heard a news story about Dr. Martin Luther King’s daughter asking people to boycott Waffle House. I had missed the news the last few days and knew nothing of the two incidents of police arresting people at two different Waffle Houses, but I could have guessed it. See nothing good ever happens at a Waffle House after midnight.

My nightmares of Waffle House started my first year out of college when I sold Mail Opening machines. I had a five state territory, which included North Carolina, home of Waffle House. My s.o.b. boss would always pick Charlotte as the place he wanted to work with me because he loved Waffle House. Before I worked with him I had never even heard of a Waffle House.

Selling mail opening machines also meant training the customers how to use them when we installed new machines. Charlotte was a hub of banking, so I had plenty of good customers who ran our machines three shifts. That meant that I often had to go train people in the middle of the night. It was the second least glamorous part of my job.

The first least glamorous part was having to go to Waffle House with my boss at four in the morning after being up all night at a bank. Going to a Waffle House at that hour sober was an eye opening experience. You really get to see the under belly of America. Truck drivers, shift workers, people who shouldn’t be out driving, and cops, lots of cops.

I saw newlyweds, who just got married after one of them was released from prison that day, I think it was her, and people who were missing their important teeth. If I had a crystal ball when I was in boarding school and could have told my History teacher Rita Shay that I would one day be sitting in a Waffle House with my boss, who barely graduated from an unaccredited Christian college, but was my boss since his Dad owned the business, she would have told me to leave her class and not waste her fine education on anyone who one day would darken the door of a Waffle House.

I am happy to say that once I left that company I never had any reason to even drive by the parking lot of a Waffle House. I knew that nothing good could ever come from such a place, and not because they would scrape all the shit off the grill and it would land in the waffle irons. I knew that somehow you had to really hit rock bottom to consider eating at a Waffle House.

So that fact that they are making the national news for bad things happening there just isn’t news to me. I don’t know the details of these incidents, but Dr. King’s daughter might really be doing God’s work to save people by asking them to stop going to Waffle House.

Harvard 100 Reaches 100

Seven years ago I was in the first class of seven non-profit board chairs to be sent to Harvard by Chuck ReCorr. It was an evolutionary four days for me. He called it an experiment in training non-profit leadership. Then he sent our CEO’s six months later. He liked what happened to our organizations so he sent another class of seven the next year. Then he decided he was going to send 100 people in total, seven at a time, both spring and fall.

This year the 100 has been realized. For each of us individually it was empowering, but as a group we are formidable. So tonight at one of our regular gatherings one of our best professors from the Harvard program, Dutch Leonard, came to speak, as well as to honor Chuck.

According to Dutch, no other community in the country has invested in their non-profit leadership the way the triangle has and it’s all thanks to one man, Chuck ReCorr. He has spent a half a million of his own dollars to do this.

Now it is time for the community to pick up the reigns and continue funding this kind of investment ourselves. The idea Chuck had that if non-profits learned to collaborate and work together we could move the needle to improve our community faster. Having so many organizations all attend the same courses so we speak the same language and get to know each other has been a big help. It takes a while to break down silos but it is beginning to happen. Of course this is a long term project, one I believe in.

If you are part of a non-profit and would like to learn about how you can improve your leadership and join the collaborative let me know. You can not only improve your own organization, but you can improve our whole community.

Here is a link to a nice article about Chuck from Walter Magazine

http://www.waltermagazine.com/featured/harvard-100

Carter’s Double Civic Duty

Yesterday while everything was breaking at my house Carter was doing her civic duty double time. Her day started early with her reporting for jury duty down at the new Durahm Court House. Before she went she was excited about jury duty, then reality that perhaps she would be seated on a long trial got her worried.

She peppered me with questions about how the whole thing worked and was frustrated when I told her that jurors sitting in the Jurors’ lounge were just pawns in the “let’s make a deal” real life of lawyers. Sure enough the clerk of courts told them that she originally had three cases that needed jurors at the start of the day and that quickly became one.

Carter sat and read her book all morning until she was released for a two and a half hour lunch break. She texted me she was going over to have lunch with Russ. I told her that she might get excused as soon as she gets back since she got such a long lunch. Sure enough that is what happened. At least she got her certificate showing she has served, in case she gets called in Boston, which I hear lots of college students do.

The good news about her getting out early is she was able to get home and pick me up to do her second civic duty and vote for the very first time. It was only a primary, but she was still mad bout missing the chance to vote in the presidential election last year because she was a month and a day too young.

She drove us to St. Stephens and when we checked in all the poll workers were so excited that a young person was coming to vote. They congratulated her on being a first time voter. There were only three races, but Carter had researched the candidates and knew exactly who she wanted to vote for. It was a proud moment for me and quite frankly the highlight of my day. I hope she never misses a chance to do her civic duty.

No Peace Of Mind

After the first three dinners I hosted with my friend Sara for our Church capital campaign it became obvious that the people who came to dinner were good pledgers. Since not everyone we invited could come to one of the first dinners, I volunteered that we needed a fourth one to try and capture some more pledges. Sadly the best day to do it was one where Sara was away on a much deserved delayed vacation. No problem, I can certainly handle a dinner for 18 by myself.

We planned it for tonight because I was going to be stuck at home all day with the treemen taking down nine trees and an unknown number of shrubs and volunteer trees on our property. Carter had her first jury duty so it seemed like a good day to cook.

I was awoken by a Russ telling me that the refrigerator had failed at some point during the night. This was not the news I needed. We emptied it and by the time that was over the repair line was open. The woman I first spoke with asked me to turn the fridge off at the breaker to see if it might come back on. It did! Hurrah! I wish I had known that before I moved all the food into coolers.

I went about prepping my food. About two hours later the fridge went out again. Not a good sign. I called back to the repair service. We had bought a 5 year extended warranty on this product when we purchased it two years go. I had the original sales receipt and the warranty contract. The next woman I spoke with verified my warranty, but asked if I lived in a rural area. No, we have about a million people here. “I don’t understand then,” she went on, “because our first available appointment is May 29.”

You can imagine what choice words I had for that. She gave me the number of the benefits coordinator for my contract and told me they might be able to help me. I called the next woman. Her help went like this:

1. An offer to give me a credit to buy a mini fridge to hold us over until the repair May 29. NO.

2. An offer for me to find and call a third party repair service myself and they would pay for it. NO.

I made it clear that I had my contract and a lawyer. Amazingly she put me on hold and came back with a repairman who can come tomorrow. Now that does not mean it will be fixed tomorrow, since they don’t have parts, but at least it is a start.

She did tell me that after the repair man comes I can make a claim for lost food. I wonder how much they pay for that?

I went back to cooking, but realized I needed to make a phone call and discovered that our landline was dead. Now I had to call the phone company and ask for a repair. That went a little more smoothly, but the jury is still out until it actually gets fixed, which did not happen today.

I was very busy cooking all day and only when the treemen came to the door to say they were done did I look at the wasteland of my yard that was created by taking all these tree down. Now I need a major landscaping job. This is going to take a while. Hopefully I will have a working refrigerator before I get that project done.

Pageant Month For Me

My friend Lee calls birthday’s pageants, because celebrating them goes on for a whole month. I guess that when you get to be our age it is a pageant. So in that spirit today I went to lunch with my friends Lynn and Shelayne in celebration of still being alive.

One of the beauties of having a May birthday is being able to eat lunch outside because it is warm enough and not too warm. That is why we chose to go to the Washington Duke, because it has an excellent chopped salad and a nice patio to eat it on.

Sadly, despite being the perfect temperature and amount of sun the patio was closed so the gutters and awnings could be cleaned. We had a fabulous lunch, inspire of not getting our usual out door table.

This just means that some other pageant activity will have to take place on the Wadu terrace, but not until after Duke Graduation. In case you don’t know this come Wednesday or Thursday before graduation, the Wadu, reduces it’s normal menu down to just a few things they can make quickly because demand is so high. I feel sorry for those parents who come to stay for graduation expecting something grand and they are confronted with the mini menu. I wonder if the Wadu lets people know that when they make reservations.

“Sir, since you are booking a room during our busiest weekend of the year I just want you to know we will be reducing our offerings in all restaurants and we want you to hurry along because other people will want to eat too.”

Seems like they could have scheduled the cleaning of the gutters and awnings for the time after lunch today so we could have enjoyed the terrace as we had planned. Power washing right during the height of lunch was not really a good idea.

But lunch with my friends was so fun just the same, we forgot to take a picture. We normally have a no gift rule, but Shelayne never follows rules, with the excuse “I have this and thought you should have it too.” She gave me pair of fabulous waterproof kitchen gloves. I am anti gifts, but her timing was perfect since my oven mitts and getting thin right where my fingers grab the handles on hot pans.

I do love pageant month.

Birthday Mystery

For my birthday this year, my old friend Warren, who I don’t usually exchange gifts with, sent me a package. As I opened the box, I saw the “EBay” logo tape. Warren is an avid scavenger of all things EBay and I wondered what odd treasure he had discovered.

Inside the well bubble wrapped package was a small salad or cake plate with the Ethel Walker School motto, “Nullas Horas Nisi Aureas” and the school symbol, a sundial. The border of the plate had an intricate design in blue and gold, not our purple and gold colors. Never in my years at EWS had I seen any such plate or pattern. In the seventies we used that white heavy ironstone which was so popular at institutions of all kinds.

I showed it to Russ and translated the Latin for him “no hours unless golden” as I remembered it. I was the poorest possible Latin student when I was a sophomore at EWS so I memorized the motto in case I was ever asked what it was. Never once in my years there did we ever discuss what the hell the motto meant. I have come to learn that basically it is a charge not to waste time. Ethel Walker girls were experts at wasting time, we were teenagers after all.

I called Warren to ask him the details of exactly how he had found this rare plate. He told me it was advertised on Ebay as an Ethel Walker School plate. Since there are no makings indicting the connection to the school we surmised it must have been stolen from the dining hall by a student, because how else would someone know it’s connection.

What neither of us could figure out was when were these plates used. So all my Walkers friends with mothers or grandmothers who went to Walkers can you show them this picture and ask if they used these plates. I would love to know why era it was from.

As for the motto, I have obviously never lived up to it because I have spent countless hours in my life wasting time. The only other Latin I can recall from class with Mrs. Dumbrow was, “Semper Ubi Sub Ubi” translated literally means “Always where under where.” Not the right where, but a motto I actually have lived by.

Winter Right Into Summer

In any normal year I am chomping at the bit to plant my garden in March. I know perfectly well the rule for North Carolina is not to plant until after April 15 for fear of frost, so I hold myself back. Not this year. I had no desire to do any work in the frigid garden until well into May. What is this Maine?

These lack of warm days tempting me to prep the soil or start seeds did not happen the same way it usually does. The was no soil improvement program as a precursor to planting. It was just too cold. Then it warmed up and fast.

Last weekend Russ tilled my garden. Even that didn’t excite me about planting. Then the summer day came. So I spent the better part of today laying down zinnia seeds in neat rows and scattering arugula seeds. Five zucchini plants and three cucumber are the only veggies so far. I am so sick of feeding deer they are the only ones I am going to attempt.

Then I turned to herbs. I had started thyme seeds indoors and I transplanted 30 tender little brown pelts of seedlings. They are so fragile that I am unsure if they will make it. The three hardy basil plants I put in should be fine.

After planting, watering and cleaning up weeds I turned to my peonies and decided to cut a bunch of flowers before the rain comes tomorrow and ruins them.

I may be late in my planting, but I hope come June I will be glad I did it. Maybe cutting my own salad from my arugula patch will make me forget the long cold winter we endured.

A Perfect Send Off

When I wrote my blog last Sunday night about Russ and I learning to play Pétanque from our friend Francois Deprez I certainly had no inkling that we would get a chance to play with him again. Francois had a freak tree accident Monday and his sweet wife let him go in the wee hours Wednesday.

Today we went to his funeral at University Methodist where his favorite Grateful Dead song was performed and the preacher told tales of Francois love of a good negotiation as well as the superior game of Pétanque. My friend Christina and their two sons held up as the gathering of their many friends went out to their home/Inn to continue the celebration of Francois much too short a life.

I was hugging Christina while she discussed how she is going to win every Mah Jongg game this year, thanks to sympathy, Russ wandered by the open shed where he caught sight of the Pétanque sign. It raided us both to not waste anytime doing the mundane, but to spend time enjoying friends.

I hope that any disagreements I am in with loved ones can be forgotten. We just don’t know how much time we have to bother arguing over small stuff.

One of the best things was Francois obituary. It ended with, “In lieu of flowers, please buy someone a Dos Equis.” I plan on doing that.

What A Nice Day

I don’t care what anyone says about Facebook, it makes birthdays so much better. Before it existed only your very closest s friends might remember your birthday on the actual day, and even then, they had a hard time acknowledging it in a timely manor. With Facebook you get hundreds of birthday wishes from people near and far. Thank you to all of you who sent me some sentiment. It made my day.

Between getting those Facebook recognitions, emails and phone calls I had just a nice day. It started with a morning drive to Raliegh where I had to be interviewed and video taped for a surprise film for someone I can’t name here. Since I was in Raleigh, I stopped by the farmers market and got some plants for my vegetable garden.

I came home in time to go to lunch with Carter at Parker and Otis. We spent a good amount of time discussing her favorite childhood toys and random early memories. She got mad t me that I asked if we could go home after a couple of hours. “We are having so much fun talking,” she said, as if we couldn’t talk at home. Which we didn’t.

I had some quality needlepoint time this afternoon. Since Carter is home I am trying to stay out of the sweat shop next to her room. I wanted to watch something on demand on TV but discovered that the ON DEMAND feature was OFF DEMAND on my cable box. That led to a twenty minute call with the cable guy only to determine I have to exchange the box at the cable company tomorrow. If that was the only low point of my day, it was still a good birthday.

While I was needlepointing the doorbell rang and my friend Stacey w standing at the door with this beautiful arrangement she had made. Stacey recently opened Figtree design florists and has filled the void that the closing of Family Garden left in Russ Lange’s life.

The photograph of these flowers does not do them justice.

Russ came home and I opened presents, the best one being a book Carter made about me, or more exactly about a person born on May, 3 1961. It is very cool.

Then we went to dinner at the St.James and had a rollicking time. All in all it was quite a nice birthday. The best part is my friends drag birthdays out over the month, since none of us ever get it together to celebrate on the actual day. So I have some fun lunches to look forward to and a trip to NYC with Russ to see Suzanne and Steve. Hooray for me!

Happiness and Heartbreak

Twenty six years ago today Russ went against his mother’s suggestion that he could still get out of this and married me anyway. It has been one wonderful quarter century plus one. I can’t imagine having a more supportive husband than Russ. No matter what crazy scheme I come up with he is down for it. And he never complains able it the baggage I brought along in this deal.

I am even more appreciative of him today because my friend Christina lost her husband in the wee hours of this morning to a freak tree accident. You just don’t know how long you have together so it’s best to let the small stuff slide and enjoy your partner for being the one who sticks with you.

My heart is breaking for a Christina and her two sons. I feel a little guilty to be celebrating my anniversary. But we all have to go on with whatever life gives us. I am just thankful that life gave me Russ Lange and along with him Carter Lange.

So I pray today for those who have lost a love and those who have a love to hold tight to. Make the most of everyday, always say “I love you,” when you part and appreciate each other.

The Worst Words

I woke up this morning to a message from a friend, “call me when you wake up.” Those were not the kind of words that make you think it is going to be good news. And it wasn’t, but it’s not my story to tell. But I am asking you for prayers, or good vibes, or anything you believe in for a friend of mine. You don’t need to know the name to pray for someone. Just wish the best to keep a family in the light.

Do You Need Help In May?

May is almost a busier month than December if you have children. There are recitals, closing exercises, end of year performances, sports awards, graduations and end of year parties. How are you supposed to get everything done?

Well if you need help with driving little ones, picking up groceries, walking your dog or babysitting in the month of May, Carter is home on the weekdays and is ready to work. She is working the weekends at Camp Cheerio until she goes at the end of the month to get the horses at camp ready and stays for the rest of the summer.

She said to me LI need things to do on the weekdays until I go to the mountain for the whole summer.” So what better way to put the word out of her availability than through the blog. Just send me a message and I will give you her text.

Sorry if you read this and want her to work in some place other than Durham or Chapel Hill. I would like to keep her home a couple days this summer since I won’t see her from May 25- the end of August, except for our July 4th visit to Camp for one meal.

So if you want dinner made for the kiddos, or just want to go for a walk without the kids, give Carter a call

The Old Folks At Home

Years ago we were introduced to the French version of Bocce called Pétanque by our friends the Deprez. Russ and I were instantly hooked on this ball throwing game. I purchased a Pétanque set of heavy metal balls in San Francisco and brought them home in my carry on later that year. Then Russ told his father we liked this game and he gave us another set of balls for Christmas or a birthday, I can’t remember because it was like six years ago.

The Deprez have a fancy Pétanque court made out of stone dust and metal edging on their beautiful bed and breakfast property. We thought we needed to build something similar in order to play at our house. And so the sets of ball languished in the garage, pristine and untouched.

The list of outdoor improvements at our house far exceeds our budget, our time or our energy. Yesterday, after Russ leveled my garden beside the driveway he came in and announced that if we completed one outdoor project every weekend we might get through our list in three years. That was a very generous timeline.

Last weekend while cleaning out the garage Russ found both Pétanque sets. He thought about building that court and went online to read about it. To his surprise the only requirement for a court was flatness. “It can be grass, gravel or sand.” he told me. We had the perfect driveway Pétanque court all this time.

Today, while Carter was still away working at Camp Cheerio for the weekend we started playing. I was ahead by two points as Carter pulled in the driveway. “Are you all playing Bocce?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

We explained it was French and she still thought it was something for old people who lived in queens. We pointed out that the very regal Shay who was sitting on her bed at the edge of the garage watching made it fancier than a Carter thought. Carter didn’t buy that. Nevertheless Russ and I didn’t let her disdain stop us from finishing our game, where Russ won.

I see some good driveway parties in our future. Get out the folding lawn chairs and the styrofoam beer cozies, we are going to embrace being old farts.

Amba, Never Heard of Her

In the continuation of my Israeli Street Food study, something I know nothing about in person yet still want to master, I made this mango sauce called Amba. It is a sweet and sour sauce to put on Chicken shawarma or falafel. Tonight I served it with both lamb meatballs, falafel and chicken. It is spicy, but not so over whelming that you burn your mouth. It takes a little time to make, and now I wish I had made more, but it is not difficult.

2 underripe mango- peeled and diced into small cubes

2 T. Sea salt

1T. Mustard seeds

1 T. Fenugreek -ground

1T. Cumin

Dash of cayenne pepper

Juice of a lemon

1 T. Red wine vinegar

3T. Brown sugar

Water

Toss the diced mango and the salt and put in a plastic container covered, in The fridge overnight.

The next day toast the mustard seeds in a dry fry pan for 15 seconds. Add the other spices and the mangos. Stir on medium heat. Add the other ingredients and stir

Until the sugar melts.

Keep cooking until the mangos go soft. Add a little water as needed to keep the mixture moist. It may require about 15 minutes of cooking. As the mangos soften they will get a little darker and the sauce will thicken up.

Remove from heat and cool. Place the sauce in a jar and let the flavors marry another day before eating.

It is similar to a mango chutney, but hotter.

The photo is of th elite leaders spoonful I had left after serving this for dinner. I should have photographed it before dinner.

Israeli Street Food- Lamb Meat balls

When it comes to cooking I like to learn cuisines of different cultures in what might be considered blocks. Not semesters, quarters, months, or weeks, but blocks. Blocks can be different sizes, but once I delve into studying the food of a country, region, or people I stick with it until I feel like I have mastered basics and have a good understanding of the flavor profiles. This is not always my families first choice, but Russ is a good sport.

My most recent block has been Israeli Street Food. It is a relatively specific area. Not so big, but distinct. It started with my falafel craze last month. Then I learned to make Laffa bread with homemade hummus, Israeli salad, eggplant and Tahini. Today I am trying out amba, a mango vinegar sauce and lamb meatballs.

The Amba takes a couple days so it is not ready for publication, but the lamb meatballs are done. In street food they might be cooked on a stick, but I don’t like to carry my food around so I just made balls.

2 cloves of garlic

1 large sweet onion

2 lbs. ground lamb

2 T. Coriander

2 T. Cumin

1 T. Salt

Big handful of fresh mint chopped

Big handful of flat leaf parsley chopped

Black pepper

3 T. soy sauce

Mince the garlic and finely chop the onion (I just ran in through the Cuisineart)

Mix everything else together. Form into balls and in batches so you don’t crowd the balls, brown them all over in a hot fry pan. They won’t be cooked through, but once browned remove from pan and place in an oven proof dish. Once all the balls are done cover the dish with foil and place in a 350° oven and back for 20-30 minutes depending on how big your balls are.

Stayed tuned for the amba sauce.

Freshman Year Is In The Books

At the moment of this writing Carter is in the air, heading home, having finished her exams yesterday. It is hard for me to believe that her freshman year of college is complete. So many years we spent working up to college, how did that her go so quickly?

Of course, some parts were long and slow, like her first semester in Berlin when I did not see her four months. And the weeks waiting for her and her roommate’s housing lottery number to come up so they could figure out where they were living next year. Then picking their housing and having the site crash and have to wait another four days to do it all over again. All part of growing up.

I am incredibly proud of how Carter has managed herself. Russ and I did our best to just be sounding boards and not fixers. The years of training seemed to work out. I think that if you can get through freshman year and get all your credits, not have to hire a lawyer for any reason and still be on speaking terms with your roommate is successful.

Carter did not have everything go her way. She discovered she is not as interested in how the brain works on a molecular level than she thought, but was surprised how much she enjoyed world religions. One positive from taking that class was the required visit to a zen Buddhist center where Carter learned she is actually quite good at meditating. That alone might be worth a year’s tuition.

In the real world lessons of life, she did not get every job she applied for, but in the end got a job that probably fits her best as an Explore Major (read undecided) Mentor. I appreciate the rigor in application and interviewing she had to go through. Those skills are what is most important. Even the not hearing on the Friday when she thought decisions were being announced and having to wait until Monday was good training for what it is like the rest of your life. No, if you don’t hear that day it does not mean you did not get the job, just that other things take precedent for the deciders.

Learning to manage money, time, relationships, work, all the life practicing skills that college provides have happened. Now I get to have her home. As luck would have it Russ had business in Boston and they are flying home on the same plane. But Carter did pack her own room up, meet the Storage Squad guy who took her boxes for the summer, cleaned her room and packed just the summer clothes she needs to fly home with.

Hopefully, when she returns in September she will get to enjoy some beautiful Boston weather, because she certainly hasn’t had ANY this semester. I will be happy she is going back to a familiar campus, some friends, clubs she is part of and classes she is interested in. Also going back to a university apartment with bath and kitchen for tow will be great. No more meal plan. Doing two different campuses in two countries was a lot this year. It stretched her.

So welcome home to my bug. We don’t have many days together before you leave for your true heart’s home of Camp Cheerio, for the summer. Hard work is not something you have ever shied away from. That trait serves you well. Your Dad and I are proud of you.