Eating the Refrigerator Clean

It’s is about to be spring break around here. Seems weird since we have had spring for the last two months. It has hardly been a harsh winter that needs escaping. Instead it has been a pleasant weather calendar year so far that is barely making up for the nightmare political year.

I need spring break to run away from news.
The only thing I hate in these pre-spring break days is the feeling that I need to eat the food in my fridge and not purchase anything new that might go to waste. This goes only for fresh, not frozen food, which can’t languish in the zero tundra of the freezer for months after I get home from break.  
So now I look in the fridge and lament the asparagus and Brussels sprouts I bought days ago and have not eaten yet, along with the leftover container of broccoli and multiple small chucks of various cheeses. Since I really don’t want a meal of these items it dawns on me that if I put some of them together with eggs I can make a frittata where the sum of the parts is better than they are alone.
I vote the Brussels sprouts out of the dish since those mini cabbages are uncooked and might survive an extra week in the veggie drawer. I blanch the asparagus, saute an onion and put it all in a baking dish with the leftover broccoli. A dozen eggs whipped up with some salt and pepper poured over the veggie and the many bits of leftover cheese on top finishes up the dish. Thirty minutes on 350 and I have a brand new main course from what was just sides and apps. I have decided the frittata is the pre-vacation best friend to cleaning out the fridge. The combinations of things that can be put together are endless, but almost all of them will benefit from addition of onion.
Now I am looking at the half full bottle of milk and am thinking that if I go very light on my morning cereal I can make it last just the right number of days, that is as long as it does not turn before hand. Sometimes I wish I was not so frugal, but I know I still won’t drink milk that might make my stomach unhappy, especially right before a trip. Thank goodness I don’t have any leftover fish.  

What’s in a Name?

Today at an emergency Mah Jongg gathering (yes, there are Mah Jongg emergencies, but that is a different story) I learned that two very long time friends had different birth names than the ones I call them now. This was interesting since I too was given a different first name at birth, that I never went by after day three. Eventually I legally changed my name to Dana after I got married, but there was a lot of confusion with driver’s licenses, passports, social security and other official forms.
Since I was given the name Jane at birth, which was also my mother’s name, my godmother declared, “there are too many god damned Janes around here, I am going to call her Dana.” Or at least that is story I was told, I was only three days old so I don’t remember. What I do know is I am no more a Jane and my God mother was right to declare me a Dana. One of my friends today told us her name had been Wanda and never in a million years would I see her as a Wanda. Eventually she started going by her middle name. But getting people to start calling you a different name, is hard even if it is one you legally own.
What I wonder is if you could chose your own name would it be something different than you were given? Names come and go in fashion and what if you have a very old fashioned name, or you happened to be named the most popular name of the year and by the time you get to third grade you are just one of six Taylors, and they re not all the same sex? Are you tempted to create a nick name for yourself that ends up sticking and if you do what do you do about your legal name? Is your new name more like a Grandmother name, one you just created for yourself?
I am very thankful that my godmother so quickly came up with my true self name. Maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to name children and instead let them hang out with us for a few days until we find the name that fits. Changing your name later is just a lot of work.

Pickled Pineapple

I cut open a pineapple I had bought last week. When I bought it I did not think it was ripe enough so I left it on the counter to ripen. That plan did not work. The fruit was not sweet, but flat and a little tasteless. I turned to the internet and found out that once a pineapple is picked it stops ripening. I have been under the illusion that letting a pineapple sit on the counter can help it improve. I am still unsure if the source I read on the internet is right.
No matter, I now had a container of what I thought was useless fruit. Since it was not sweet I could not make a cake so I decided to go the other direction and pickle it, enhancing the tartness with spice. It is going to be the perfect accompaniment to roast pork.
1 tasteless unripe pineapple (certainly a good pineapple will work too)

3 jalapeño’s thinly sliced

1 cup of white vinegar 

2 T. Salt

2 T. Sugar

Handful of cilantro 
Put the vinegar, salt and sugar in sauce pan and heat until the salt no sugar are dissolved. Let the liquid cool. Put the pineapple and jalapeño in a bowl and pour the liquid over it. Cover and put in the fridge for at least a day. Add the cilantro a few hours before serving.  
Not only would this be good on pork, but would be excellent on fish tacos or grilled salmon.

A Rare Family Meal 

In a rare moment these days I had Russ and Carter with me at the same meal. It was such a treat. Russ flew in late this afternoon from a week in Chicago, Minneapolis, New York, and Washington, DC. Tomorrow Carter is going to Charlotte and Russ is back out to Chicago.  
The times that Russ and Carter get to see each other are fleeting so I am doing my best to maximize these opportunities. Tonight I enticed Carter to have dinner with us before going to watch the DUKE UNC basketball game by taking her to JuJu an Asian restaurant she had never been to. My plan worked perfectly. Carter wondered, “Why have I never been here before?”   
When all my parent’s kids had moved out on their own my parents built a house at the beach. I asked my Dad why he was building such a big house with a pool and he told me, “I have to make it really nice so you and your sisters will want to come visit us.” I thought that made us sound very shallow, like what, are we not going to want to visit our parents anyway?  
Now I find myself in that same position. In order for us to get time with Carter we have to offer something better than her friends. It works out fine that we can go to an early dinner and then Russ and I get to come home and go to bed early and Carter can go out, but that is not always the case.
We are about to embark on our last spring break. I figure that Carter may want to do spring break with friends, at least that is what I did in college. But maybe I can learn from my Dad. Maybe I can create someplace so fun that Carter will still want to visit us. For now I am happy if we eat a meal or two a week together.

Congratulations Graduates

This was a fun week in my Mah Jongg world. I had a class or I played a game everyday this week. Sounds decadent. Monday was the first day of Durham beginners class with Lucy, Kathryn, Kay, Trena and Page. Tuesday was third class of Chapel Hill friends Alice, Kim, Lisa and Linda. Wednesday was my regular game where I got to play and not teach. Thursday was Durham’s second class and today was Durham’s third and final class. It also happened to be Kay’s birthday.
I am happy to report that there are many new Mah Jongg players in the area. Everyone caught on to the game and improved to the point of being able to figure out what to pass without help. If you do not know what that means it is time for you to learn to play Mah Jongg.
Teaching everyday but one was a fun way to spend the week. If I was not such a natural born salesman I probably would have liked being a teacher. When I was a kid playing “school” was a favorite game for me. I used to love to make worksheets up for my much younger sister who did not find math a fun game. It is too bad, because she might have gotten further along in math if she had stuck with the “school game” a little longer. She always wanted to quit playing school and play beauty parlor instead.
Now that my week of running Mah Jongg school is over I am going to miss it tomorrow. I know there are other people who have asked me to teach them and I am happy to start up a new class, I just need to know if you want a day or evening class. Now that basketball is over evening is easier.
In the past month I have had beginners, intermediate and advanced Mah Jongg classes and it is amazing to me to see how much more there is to teach people who have been playing a while. One of the friends in the beginners class today asked me what else I taught because we were having such a fun time at Mah Jongg. Now I am trying to think of what else I know that I can teach. I know it is not math.

Progress? 

Today a friend stopped by the house after her yoga class. She told me how yoga had solved her bulging neck disk that was caused by too much driving and hovering over a key board. She credited yoga with her ability to open up her shoulders and solve her own ailments. I told her the story of the massage therapist who told me I needed to work on opening up my shoulders because of too much keyboard time also. I asked him how my shoulders were for a seventy year old. “Oh, great,” he told me. “Good, since I am only fifty.” (I wa just trying to find out how bad I really was.)
After that conversation today I got to thinking about all the secretaries that worked at Avon, where my Dad worked when I was a kid. They were beautiful women who sat at their typewriters all day, except for the times they were going to the Xerox room or to get coffee.  
My Dad was a prolific writer, scribbling out page after page of his left handed scrawl across many yellow legal pads. Goldie, his secretary, had hours of typing daily just from the things he wrote on the three hours he spent on the train going to and from work. Then there was all the typing that she had to do from what he dictated, not just in person, but also on his dictaphone.  
I knew Goldie for years and never once did I ever her her complain about neck or shoulders pain despite the many hours spent at her IBM Selcetric. I also never ever saw Goldie hunch over her typewriter. She sat at her desk with the most perfect of posture.
I took typing back in junior high school. My teacher Mrs. Green and her army of typewriters were housed in a portable classroom out back of the gym. It was perfect because that kept the noise of us all banging away on the keys sequestered from where the real learning was going on inside the building. The first thing Mrs. Green taught us was how to sit at the typewriter and hold our hands in position. At the time it seemed like over kill, especially for someone like me who had terrible posture to begin with. Now I am understanding the importance of all that.
Along the way, with the advent of lap top computers and now IPads, we have detached ourselves from always having to work at a desk and sit in an appropriate chair. I am terribly guilty of writing my blog every night from my bed where I certainly do not have good posture. Those old school ways of sitting up straight with both feet on the floor, shoulders down, neck stretched long have disappeared.  
We have taken the convenience of being able to work anywhere and have ruined our bodies because of it. And now we have to go to trainers, classes and physical therapy to fix the damage we have done because of that convenience. Perhaps I need to look for an old IBM typewriter and a little typing desk and chair and go back to sitting properly when I write. I can just take a photo of the paper with all the cross outs and edits and post that on the blog. I might lose every reader, but at least I won’t be risking a bulging disk.

Past Life Feeder

My friend Lynn asked me the other day if I might be making some Jambalaya soon. Lynn is a very picky eater who consumes practically nothing but Starbucks green tea lattes and movie theatre popcorn so if she wants some real food I figure the least I can do is make it for her.
So after working out and playing Mah Jongg well into the afternoon I decided I should not continue to do fun things for me, but instead make that Jambalaya. Since I was making it for Lynn I might as well make some for others, I thought. So I went about chopping and cooking and before it knew it I had made 32 quarts of chicken and chicken andouille sausage jambalaya.  

The pot in the picture holds just half of the total amount made. The crazy thing about this is that Lynn will eat about half a cup and be full.
I am wondering exactly what syndrome I have that makes me unable to cook small amounts? There must be a name for this. I can not blame this from my years catering. When I was a young child and cooked for my family I over cooked even then. My parents gave me a biblical/American Indian name of “Feeds the five thousands.”
I must have run a major food business in a past life. Perhaps I was a chef to a royal court, feeding not just the royal family, but the staff and hangers on. Or maybe I ran a school food service, or a prison kitchen. Somewhere there has to be a past life feeding experience.
I know there are all these little libraries popping up around the country where people can just pick up a book on a corner. Maybe I can have a little soup kitchen out front of my house. Seems like my need to feed people is deeply bred in me.

Not the TEEN Mom

“She’s the teen mom.” That’s what I thought I heard Carter’s basketball coach say as she was presenting the third and final award at the awards ceremony tonight. The first thing that went through my head is, “Who is the teen mom?”  
Then I realized she said, “Team Mom,” and she was talking about Carter for the Captain’s Award. It was a cherry on top of a fun basketball career. Carter was not the best player, but she was the coaches right hand.  
“She was the team Mom and organizer as well as a great listener and motivator. She always wanted to sit directly on my left shoulder on the bench in order to best communicate my thoughtsto the team and I also think she liked that seat in order to better communicate her opinion to the refs.” No one knows a player better than their coach. But Carter also studied what her coaches wanted and tried to help make that happen any way she could.
Being a TEAM Mom has been a highlight of her high school career. Thanks to Krista and Robert for being tough loving coaches. Thanks to the team for being a family. Good luck next season. Now who is going to be the new Mom?

How to Really Drive 45 Crazy

The news has been rife with polls showing that people who voted for Trump think he is doing a great a job and people who didn’t think he is doing the worst job ever. There is no middle ground. No “he’s our new President so I’ll cut him a break” bump that almost all previous presidents have gotten. Everyone is standing their ground, or at least the Trump lovers see nothing wrong in what he is doing.
High on my list of concerns for this POTUS is his slamming of all the press, save CBN or other far far right media outlets. An uneducated populous is his best friend. Yet, Trump is a guy who always wants to be in the media, the center of the universe, the most talked about. Given that no one is changing their minds about him I think the thing that would make him the most crazy is if all the news stopped talking about him.  
Imagine if Trump opened the newspaper, wait, not sure he reads, OK turned on the TV news and there was not one mention of him. Late night comics stopped referring to him ever. I know that Trump jokes are the low hanging fruit of comedy, but try it, just for a month. I can’t think of anything that would make him madder than to be ignored.  
I am not suggesting that the opposition stop working to improve the country, but just never mention the president by name, number or title. You can talk about the “administration” but not the man. It would drive him crazy. What if all the White House reporters just stopped going to the White House? They are already locked out of meetings, already ignored during question time, already told to sit down and be quiet. Rather than chase the man and give him the spot light, which he loves, go out and do investigative journalism on the issues, not the President.  
Now to Twitter… What if everyone just gave up Tweeting and retweeting and looking at twitter and reporting on what he puts on twitter for a month. He could be sitting on the throne in the White House screaming out in all caps on Twitter,”WHY AREN’T YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ME?” and no one would respond.
We can’t let him go unchecked. We have to find other ways to fight him, but we don’t need to feed the ego that fuels him. Neither the news, nor comedians are going to change anyone’s minds, so let’s just drive him crazy with lack of coverage. This means we have to cover everyone else who works for him so that none of the stuff they are trying to do, like spend 23 billions dollars to build a wall, goes on without us trying to stop it, but just credit everything to an underling and not the POTUS. Soon enough the spotlight on the underlings will rub him the wrong way and he will turn on them.  
The only sad part about this plan is that if 45 called a press conference and no cameras or reporters were there we would not get to see him implode because no one was paying attention to him. Just an idea.

Surprise Baby Shower

Today we had the basketball team for lunch. Traditionally we this has been a farewell to the seniors, but today it was a surprise baby shower for their coaches, Krista and Robert.  
Carter did the inviting over group text which had me completely out of the loop, except that I had to be the shopper, cook and setter upper. Thankfully freshman center Claire Middleton generously offered to bring dessert. That meant I only had to make the main meal.  
As Carter was going off to Philly with Russ she told me that one girl was now a vegan and one a vegetarian. I decided to make pasta carbonara, one traditional with bacon, one veggie with peas and I had plain pasta for the vegan. I also had a deconstructed salad so the vegan could leave off the cheese and make a meal with the nuts and pears in her salad. She also had plain peas without butter or cheese. I am not sure if I could be a vegan. Thank goodness carbonara is easy to make for a crowd and the basketball girls are very appreciative and polite.
After lunch Carter invited the team to come up to the “gathering room,” the pretentious name for our family room. If this party was not at our house it might have been the time when the seniors were celebrated, but instead there were presents and a welcome baby balloon. Krista said she was surprised, but Robert said he thought this was what was going on.
Since the sex of the baby is a surprise the girls gave a great group of unisex presents. The most important one was a kid sized Duke Basketball signed by the whole team. Toys, books, a sleep sound machine and a boppy pillow were all things the new baby will use.
Krista and Robert have had lots of practice with many high school girls. It will be a change for them to have a baby. I hope that this baby likes basketball because it would be a terrible waste to have two parents with so much basketball experience not get to pass it on. Tuesday night is the winter sports awards and that will officially end Carter’s high school basketball career. The shower was a fun way for it to end.

Dogs Don’t Understand Weather Delays

Russ and Carter went to Philly for the last two days to visit the Lange side of the family. This meant that Shay Shay was getting two solid days of bonding time with me. OK, not her first choice. I know that Shay would prefer to be with Russ.
Every time a noise happens outside my bedroom window Shay thinks it is the garage door going up returning Russ home to her. So many times in the last two days I have had to tell her that sound was not Russ, which I know she fully understood by the way she would settle back down with a big sigh and look of disappointment.
Yesterday I had to be in Raleigh all day at a Food Bank retreat and Christy came by with her dog Lucy and generously took Shay on a walk with Lucy. That bought me a little bit of love when I got home rather than a huge guilt trip of “you left me all day.” Last night Shay slept on Russ’ side of the bed so she at least could smell like him.
This morning she gave me the “when, when, for god’s sake, tell me when he is coming back look.” I told her straight up. “He will be home at five thirty tonight.” She was happier knowing this and went about her day with less remorse than before.  
Russ and Carter got to the airport and were happily on the plane when they texted that weather was delaying them. Carter was unhappy since she wants to get home to go to a school dance. I did not tell Shay about the weather delay.
Five-thirty came and Shay started pacing in front of the front door, looking out the glass. I thought she wanted to go out and when I opened the door she just stood there. No going out, but instead looking down the road for Russ’ little car. She lay back down, nose to the glass. I decided I should try and tell her. “The plane is delayed, I don’t know when he is getting home.”
Shay howled at me. Honest to goodness, a sound like a wounded bear I have never heard her make before. I hugged her and told her he would be home. I went to get her some chicken to cheer her up, she just looked at it and went back to staring out the door leaving the chicken untouched. Such a broken heart for a two day trip. Don’t tell me dogs don’t understand everything, except weather delays. Next time I am going to tell her he is coming I later than his actual time just so I won’t have to live with such disappointment.

Arugula Salad Addiction

Since Russ and Carter went to Buck’s County to visit Russ’ family I have had the luxury of not cooking for myself. For the last two days I have eaten nothing but arugula salad and cereal, save the vegetarian lunch I had at the Food Bank today. I wonder if I were to live alone if I would even bother to buy anything other than chicken, pears, blue cheese, arugula, raspberries and special K? Oh yeah, I would need milk, ice tea and limes.
Despite my love of cooking I am perfectly happy to eat the same thing day in and day out. Especially when I am being extra good on my diet. When Carter goes to college and Russ is on a long business trip I am going to see how many days I can go eating just these things before I get bored. I predict it will be more than five days.
One reason I am happy to eat this arugula salad for two meals everyday is that I almost always have all the ingredients prepared and waiting in the fridge. I caramelize a couple of thinly sliced pears every few days. I cook 10 boneless skinless chicken thighs and keep them in the fridge. Thighs warm up beautifully in the microwave because they have more fat than breasts so they don’t get dried out. With those things prepped it takes less than minute to put the arugula in a bowl, crumble a little blue cheese on top, add the pears and the warmed chicken and douse with balsamic vinegar. It is a taste I hope I never tire of.
I remember when my Grandmother, Mima moved to a retirement home and I was in my early twenties. She had a little apartment with a small kitchen. She ate her breakfast and lunch in her rooms, but went to the dining room every night for a nice dinner. When I went to visit her at lunch time she always offered me the same thing, a small bowl of couscous with Parmesan cheese. She ate it everyday. I knew she had never been much of a cook, but I thought this lack of variety in her diet was not good.
I realize that I have turned into my grandmother. Perfectly happy to eat the same thing day in and day out, despite my well studied talent for cooking. I worry for Russ what life will be like in our house when it is just the two of us. He will have avocado toast with eggs and spicy sauce every morning and if he is given his druthers a kale salad and pizza bread for dinner.
I guess that you might say we will have variety in our house because we will have two different salad greens. I am going to have to give a lot of dinner parties to ensure I am cooking other things. Russ will be happy with any party leftovers and I can still have arugula.

Gratitude Tour Four – Sandhills Edition

I know I sound like a broken record, but I spent my day going to visit the Sandhills branch of the food bank and I was blown away by the people who work there. This gratitude tour started as a way for me to go and visit every Food Bank employee to thank them for the job they do, but it has turned into a much more inspirational tour for me.
One of the things the Food Bank does is called Back Pack Buddies where volunteers pack a bag of food for children who have very little food at home over the weekends. A wonderful woman in Southern Pines, named Joanne runs the program. She told me about the 1,100 children they provide a bag of food for every Friday in just Moore County alone. Nine hundred of them are homeless. This number broke my heart.  
Joanne said she had a dedicated group of volunteers who come in on Thursdays and pack the bags with food which always includes an apple for the children. On Fridays more volunteers come and drive the bags to the 28 school these children attend week after week. The Food Bank is great at gathering the right foods for these back packs and always making sure they have the right amount so no child goes hungry, but it takes these dedicated volunteers to pack 1,100 bags and deliver them.
I wish that my gratitude tour could include every volunteer who are helping feed children, seniors and those who need help. I was lucky enough to meet Austin, who is the Sandhills number one volunteer. He has been coming to the Food Bank every morning for twenty years. He told me today he can’t play golf that much of the Food Bank is the best place to spend his time. What a love.

Volunteering to help any worthy organization makes for a more fulfilling life. For my birthday this year I am going to invite my friends to come and do a volunteer morning at the Raliegh branch and have a lunch. Before I retire from the board (not from volunteering for the Food Bank) I want to show everyone the beautiful branch we spent the last five years making happen. Save May 4 to come and have some fun helping others at the Food Bank.

Arrested at the Post Office?

Today I had the fun errand of getting something notarized and then taking it to the post office to send it certified mail. Seemed like an easy enough job. What did I know?
After waiting fifteen minutes at my bank for the guy who is the official notary I was off to the post office. Since it was three in the afternoon I thought the lines would be short. I should have known that the lines are never short at the post office. I counted eleven people in front of me. I can survive that, until I noticed just one Postal guy working.
Seems like today no one was doing anything easy at the Post office. One woman was trying to mail two bras to her mother in France. Why you would send American bras to the country that invented beautiful lingerie? The number of forms she had to fill out about those bras made no sense to any of the people who had to listen to the whole embarrassing conversation.  
“Is there any liquid in this package?”
“No, as we have already discussed they are bras.”
“Are you sure there is no liquid?”
“Yes, they are not padded.”
This questioning went on for many minutes. You would think that the current administration had instructed the Post Office to start keeping tabs on all Americans to determine who is next for deportation, whether you are American or not.
I bonded with my fellow linemates as we took bets about how long we would all be there. I lost when I guessed twenty minutes and I was off by fifty percent. At minute twenty five a second postal worker appeared giving us false hope of a second line opening. It did not. I took a selfie while standing in line and this superfluous “worker” practically took my head off.
“No, photos in the Post Office,” he screamed at me.  
“Sorry, I don’t see any signs saying that.” I responded. He did not go so far as to ask me to delete it.  
I have not studied the law about taking pictures at the post office, nor about posting them. This may be my farewell blog post as I am certain to be dragged off to jail. It can’t be any worse than being at the actual post office.

Sick Child Diet

Poor Carter has been home the last two days with the crud. Apparently half her school has been out too. One of her good friends said it was terrible today because all the friends she eats lunch with were out, leaving her at school all alone.
With spring break coming I have been trying my best to get back on the healthy eating wagon with little will power. Today, with Carter not able to eat much I found it was easier for me to withhold. Since it is not the stomach bug, but an achy flu, she can still eat, but doesn’t have much appetite. I made artichokes for dinner. I know, not a normal sick food, but she was already tired of soup. Poor Carter ate part of one and was done with that.
Normally I would have finished her artichoke, but I certainly did not want to even touch anything she did. I had my artichoke and put the plates in the dishwasher and washed my hands well. Shay thought she wanted what Carter was not eating, but once Carter gave her a green leaf Shay thought better of her begging for it.
Now if I can eat the little amount Carter does while she is sick I may be able to shrink my stomach. I’m hoping for enough to ensure that a I am only eating enough to burn some of my stored fat and not take on more than I burn. I envision needing to exercise every waking minute to make my plan work, but realistically that is not going to happen. I certainly don’t have time to get the flu, but I wold like to get the flu non-eating desire. I pray that everyone in your house is well, but based on the school report that is not going to be the case for half of you.  

President’s Day — Not for Everyone

It’s President’s Day, formally celebrated on two days as Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays. When Martin Luther King got his own birthday holiday we rolled President’s into one. For the record I want to say it is not a holiday to celebrate all President’s. Many don’t deserve a holiday every year. I thought that we should have one holiday called Great Leaders Day and then we could celebrate everyone who actually was great. Washington, Lincoln and King would all be included, but you did not have to win an election to make the list.
Unless a stoke or some other dramatic brain transformation happens, I do not see 45 making the list of great leaders day. I got to thinking about fictional presidents I wish he would emulate since he loves T.V. ratings so much. Michael Douglas in “The American President” might be one 45 would like to copy. He is attractive and has a beautiful wife, things 45 admires.
Harrison Ford in “Air Force One” is another President that 45 might be attracted to. I am worried 45 is going to be more like Leslie Nielsen in “Scary Movie 3 & 4,” or Randy Quaid in the forgettable “Mail to the Chief.” The thing that scares me the most is that no movie, no matter how absurd would ever write a script even close to the craziness of the last four weeks.
On this President’s day I morn the loss of the really great Presidents we have had. I hope that the future holds more people who might make the Great Leaders list. We certainly still need them.

It’s Supposed to Be Hermitting Season

February should be snowy and cold and a time to hunker down inside your house with a fire and your loved ones. This weekend of beautiful 72 degree sunny days is ruining my hibernation. Actually, it is just making me feel guilty for hibernating.
Russ and I basically stayed home all weekend except for venturing out this afternoon for a movie, which is a form of hibernation. In our defense we had yesterday blocked off in case Carter’s basketball team made it to states and we’d have to go to Charlotte. When that didn’t happen I did not fill the time with other activities. Russ, who spent last week in New York, Boston and Washington was thrilled to have a down time weekend. I felt a little anti-social as we so enjoyed our alone time so much. Carter was here, but she was off with friends or studying. Russ and I decided this was what our future held, snuggling time with Shay.  
If this were regular February I would have no guilt about my utter joy in being in my house. Not that we never left the house. We had a glorious walk this morning in this beautiful weather, but I feel like we need some weather suffering so we can fully embrace the good weather months.  
Don’t get me wrong. I am not looking for winter. I certainly don’t want snow to come and kill everything that is in blossom. The daffodils are abundant, the forsythia has popped and the tulip trees look like Holland on a branch. I just want the excuse to be a hermit, this coming from an uber extrovert.
Perhaps my introverted husband has rubbed off on me. Or more likely I have some bear DNA and actually need a little hibernation. I wish that my hibernation came with an extended nap, but that sounds incredibly too decadent.

Aging In Unison

Yesterday Carter was talking to me and she suddenly stopped and said, “Oh look, you have a Stacey London stripe.” For those of you who are not “What not to wear ” fans Stacey has a stripe of silver hair in her dark black hair. Since I don’t color my hair I told Carter that this must have been the first time she had really looked at me since I have had a greying temple for a while. “No, Mom, it must be the way the sunlight is hitting your hair. I like it.”
This morning Russ went downtown to try and get a haircut from his very popular barber Tony. He had tried earlier in the week but the wait to see Tony is always long. Today was no different except that since it is Saturday Russ had time to sit their with the brothers and the fathers and sons.
Tony is a friendly guy and Russ asked him if he had a good Valentine’s Day since Russ knew he had a new girlfriend. When Tony asked Russ about his Valentine’s Day he said that he had been in NYC so we had to celebrate it early.  
“It was our 25th Valentine’s and it will be our 25th anniversary this year,” Russ said.
“Wow, your silver anniversary, like your hair!”  
Russ can handle this banter from his favorite barber, but he made sure to tell me about it.

I guess that it is perfectly expected that the two of us will both have some silver hair for our silver anniversary. I don’t see either of us doing anything about it. I can’t think of anything better than aging in unison.

Professional Audience Member

My job as loud laugher and professional audience member for Durham Academy plays is done as a parent. Tonight I went to the winter musical, “She Love Me” where most of the actors were seniors who I have literally seen grow up. As a person with no musical talent myself I make a very appreciative audience. I am especially useful at comedy’s since I laugh loud and quickly, often starting the ripple effect of laughter throughout the theatre. Tonight at intermission I saw Thomas Benson in the lobby on crutches. He would have been on stage it it were not for his knee operation and I told him I missed him up there. He said he knew I was in the house because he could hear me in the thousand seat room. A dubious distinction.
Some of the actors have only been around since upper school but in the case of star, Lily Tendler I have watched her in productions from Kindergarten on up. I knew she was someone to keep an eye on when I created books for the school auction from the kindergarteners. I asked each child to draw a picture of what they wanted to be when they grew up and dictate a sentence about their dreams. Lily wrote that she “wanted to be on TV and in the movies because they made a lot of money.” She was the only five year old who even knew what money was then.
My favorite part of the show was when Lily and other female lead senior Ellie Dusek sang duets together. Ellie has the perfect musical voice that is able to blend with others. The show had many strong parts for boys and as always I loved Chris Villani. The ensemble cast was fun, but I wish we had more opportunities to have them on stage. I loved Liza Aldridge sitting on that boy’s lap and Libby Beirsach played the perfect December 24th shopper.
My job is done. Carter suggests that I could become a paid audience sitter, but plays in the future will not be the same when they are not cast with kids I have watched grow up and know so well.
Great job to the whole cast and crew on a very long and complicated production. The sets were beautiful, the music great and the show a success. Lily Tendler, I still like you best as a red head, although the brown wig was perfect.

Gratitude Tour Three

Today was my third visit to one of the Food Bank branches that are my gratitude tour to meet and personally thank every staff member. I had the pleasure of going to New Bern with Peter Werbicki, the CEO. I drove over to Raliegh early this morning to meet up with Peter. It was great that he still went even though he should have not come to work today as he is an immigrant. Peter hales from the U.K. and is the hardest working Food Bank CEO in America.  

If anyone want to know someone who is making America great, it is Peter, an immigrant.
New Bern is the newest of the Food Bank’s six locations. I have visited that branch about four or five years ago when it was first started because it has a big beautiful garden where they grow lots of produce to give to feeding agencies. It was nice to see how much the branch has grown in that time. They have increased their output over 900%.
Of course I went to see the important part of the operation, the people. They are the key to the success of the branch. Their commitment and dedication was evident. It made me very proud to get to spend time with them. A bonus of my visit was getting to present them with the plaque commemorating six years of no work place accidents.
The real highlight is getting the chance to talk to each individual and find out what they like about their job and to impress upon them how important they are to helping feed their neighbors. Looking someone in the eye, thanking them and telling them that you appreciate them is fun. I wish I had done this gratitude tour years ago. Next week I go to the Sand hills. After this tour is over I might have to stand on a street corner and give out hugs because I am going to need something to replace this gratitude tour.

Three Day Glasses 

I am not an extreme sport enthusiast. I don’t do crazy things like jump out of planes wearing my reading glasses. I like to sit and needlepoint and play Mah Jongg. You would think that a new pair of glasses would last on a person of my sedentary nature for years. Not so my new Eyebobs readers. Three days was all the lasted before the fishing line holding the lens in place broke.
Now these are not readers from the Dollar store. They are expensive for readers. I called up the company and spoke with the person who answered the phone. “My three day old glasses have already broken.” This news was not unusual to her. In fact the indifference I met on the phone was shocking. No apology, no sorry for your trouble, no offer to send a new pair before they got mine back.  
It will be another week, at the least, before I will get the replacements and I hope they come with an apology. I also hope the new ones hold up longer than this pair did.  
I understand why a business does not want to send out a new free pair until they get the old one back, but a little sympathy for the trouble I have to go through would have been nice. Not so from Eyebobs, based in the nice state of Minneapolis. I thought they would be better being in the Midwest. Not so much.
Three days. Really.

The Mama of the Mama Bear is Sad

The game ended in a hard fought loss. The end of the high school career in basketball was over. Carter came to find me in the stands and sobbed in our hug. Her job as team Mama Bear was over. The sadness was overwhelming for her. She loves this team, she loves her job as captain, psychologist, and ad hoc coach. She is not the best player on the team, but she will miss this team profoundly. It was the best place for her to belong all these years.
As the Mama of this Mama Bear I am equally sad. I will miss this team of parents who sat vigilantly in the bleachers together for the many months of the longest sports season. I made promises to come back and watch the girls next year when Carter is off in Berlin.  
I just barley got to know the freshman parents. I am thrilled that the team has such promise for the years to come with these young girls. I know Carter will want me to report to her the progress the Young’s ones make and the success of the juniors, then seniors who will anchor the team next year.
Congratulations to Grace and Carter who are graduating. To Izzy and Erin who made all conference. To Imani and Claire who started. To Nicole whose threes were key. To Audrey, Morgan, Jenny, Brooke, and Christina who were always there in support of the team. You are a special group of girls. As the Mama of your Mama Bear I will always be looking out for you.
Thanks to Krista and Robert, the best coaches. You gave Carter a chance to blossom and I know the lessons she learned from you will be carried into all she does in the future. The world needs more Mama Bears.

Strength Needed 

I consider myself a fairly strong person. I can fairly easily lift 50 pound bags of mulch and put them in my car. Not that fifty pounds is so much, but as a large unwieldy bag it is more difficult than its weight suggests. If a lid is stuck on a jar I am usually able to open it without resorting to the husband handoff. All that being said I might have met my match in a squash.
I have been having a little craving for some red sauce of the Italian sort. My issue is I am also having a hard time eating healthy in the post holiday diet season. So in my need to avoid pasta I was searching for something to satisfy my red sauce habit. I spotted the perfect answer to my dilemma at Trader Joe’s. A nice spaghetti squash for $3.29.  
I bought two last Thursday and brought them home in the hope of convincing the rest of the family that they thought squash was an acceptable substitution for pasta. Then one thing led to another and we ate out or enjoyed other things that were found in the fridge and the squash sat idly by on the counter. All this time my Italian craving was multiplying.
Tonight is the night I am going to satisfy my need for tomato sauce. Russ is on a business trip and when I suggested to Carter my plan she gave me the “what are my other choices?” look. Off she went to basketball with the promise she could eat any leftover in the fridge, but I am holding out the hope she will choose the “Italian.”
One of the beauties of pasta is you boil water, dump in the contents of a box and ten minutes later you have a blank palette ready to accept the artistry of any sauce you concoct. The squash route seemed like it was equally easy, just more time consuming because you have to cut it in half, scoop out the seeds and bake it in the oven for at least 45 minutes.

Ok, not too much trouble.  
I went to work on my sauce, using up some mushrooms I had in the fridge and pulling out the homemade turkey meatballs I had in the freezer. Fairly healthy if I say so myself. This is going to be a low guilt and easy to manufacture satisfaction. That was until I went to try and cut the squash.
I took out my heaviest cleaver hoping I could cut the yellow orb in two with one whack. Not a chance. I hardly scored the tough outer hull. I got out my wooden rolling pin to use as a hammer against the cleaver. I only dented the wood of the pin. I tried another thinner blade knife, no piercing at all. I rummaged around in the rare utensil drawer and came up with the meat pounding mallet. I used that heavy hammer to bang on the back side of the cleaver and was able to get the knife stuck into the squash just the littlest bit. I then was able to pick the squash up with the cleaver and slam it on the cutting board. Many hits later I eventually broke the vegetable on two unequal parts.
I am not envisioning using spaghetti squash as a substitute for pasta into my old age, that is unless I get a kitchen band saw. No wonder boxed pasta has got such a hold on America. It is far easier to cook that a squash.

Let’s Start With Agreement

I’m tired of all the disagreement in America. As we become more and more insular with our own beliefs I fear that we are not listening to any other point of view. I know that I am not going to change anyone’s mind by just spouting what I believe so I want to change the whole conversation. Let start with a ground work of what we all agree we want in America. Beginning with the positive might get us to where we can all be happy.
I’ll start the list, but welcome you to add to it.
In America we all want or need:
Opportunities for good and fair paying jobs and a chance for improvement.

Education systems for all our children to learn and blossom.

Clean air and water in abundance.

Healthy food available for everyone.

Solid infrastructure to move us around.

Freedom to practice our beliefs.

Right to speak our minds without fear.

Control of our own bodies.

Available good healthcare nearby.

Peace in our country and our world.

Fair tax system.

Affordable housing.

Love.
Now what these things mean to you and how to get there are your point of view, but if we can start with principles we agree on we may see that we are more alike as Americans than different. If we consider us one America first and not that our neighbor is our enemy we can move forward.  

British Morris Makes America Happy 

It is a gorgeous, global warming is a real thing, day here in North Carolina. Sunny and 72 degrees. Sorry to my friends up north. Russ and I ate lunch on the terrace and with nothing else important to do we pulled the Morris Minor out of the garage to run the most mundane of errands.  
A dry and warm day is the perfect time to drive a car with little heat, no air, no radio, electrical outlet or retractable seat belts. Down Hope Valley road we went first to get gas for the baby blue car. Four gallons is practically filling the tank. As Russ pumped the gas I nodded to the other customers who came by with thumbs up or big smiles when they see the clown of the car.
We headed down to Southpoint to the Sur la Table store to recycle our coffee capsules. While stopped at a light an old guy with long hey hair in a beat up Trans Am pulled up beside us. I looked over at him and he gave me the “what up?” head nod, while checking out my car, and thankfully not me. When the light turned green he raced ahead. I laughed that he had an antique car license plate on the early eighties machine, while we sport just a regular ‘ole NC plate.
Once at the mall I just pulled up to a loading bay and stayed in the car while Russ ran the recycling in. No less than a dozen people stopped to say they loved the car in the five minutes he was gone. One lady said, “That makes my day.”
Two more errands for wiper blades for Carter and new house keys to be cut and dozens more happy people waving at us. I have decided that I need to drive the Morris everyday to make “America Happy Again.” Since I don’t have a radio I can block all the news of what is going on in the rest of the country and just concentrate on the few square miles the Morris travels.
If you are local and are having a particularly rotten day, give me a call and I will come take you for a ride. Nothing makes you happier than seeing the smiling faces of the people you pass. 

Happiness Is…

Blowing out the last regular season basketball game against Not Really Christian Academy
Every girl playing the fundamentals to the best of her ability
Making their coaches smile bigger than they have all year
Enjoying a fun family tapas dinner in celebration afterwards
Listening to Spotify “songs to sing in the shower” and singing all the way home
Loving that my daughter loves songs from my childhood as much as I do
Coming home to a sweet dog so happy to see us all
All of us spending quality time together while we are all in the same place 

Poor Nordstrom

Some business leaders have made the news for saying how great it is to have a President that is so pro-business. They envision a governance that takes away their taxes, regulations and brings us back to the wild west days of anything goes for a dollar.
Then there are the businesses who made the “Grab Your Wallet list” outing them for supporting any Trump related business. Nordstrom’s was the top of the list, why I am not sure because they certainly could not have been the biggest seller of Trump goods, nor was the list alphabetical. Many anti-Trump people let Nordstrom know they were not happy that they sold Ivanka’s clothes and shoes.
So without saying they were bowing to that pressure Nordstrom’s announced they were dropping Ivanka due to poor sales. That action unleashed the dragon that is the oh so powerful daddy. Not that he who shall not be named likes when anyone says anything harsh about his family, but harm one hair on the obvious favorite daughter and you are playing with fire.
So last night the twitter war against Nordstrom started. First from the personal account, the the POTUS, then Instagram and finally Facebook. Nordstrom’s stock dropped at the opening bell.  
So where is that pro-business president? All those CEO’s who think they have an ally running the show need to realize he is not pro-business for the good of their businesses, but only for his own. If your business crosses him or worse, his off spring, he is going to be more anti your business than any previous President ever was.
Then there was poor cross-eyed Kellyanne. Blindly trotted out to be the spokesperson for Ivanka. Did Kellyanne not read the conflict of interest memo when she took the job or perhaps she really does not give a damn about her own integrity. I love that the White House gets to do it’s own reprimanding of KellyAnne for breaking the ethics rules. I imagine she is getting a spanking in the Oval Office right now and likes it a little too much.  
But poor Nordstrom, damned if they kept Ivanka, damned if they didn’t. No one is safe. Be careful Macy’s, LL Bean and Bloomingdales. The last thing you want is to do anything that gets Kellyanne involved in your story.
Note to readers with little sense of humor.  Don’t bother me with with rebuttals,  this is satire.  Get your own blog.

Mah Jongg Tournament Report

Yesterday I went with my friend Deanna to my first ever Mah Jongg Tournament. It was a fundraiser for the Cary Area Hadassah so I was certain to be playing with some people that had Mah Jongg in their bloodlines.  
We arrived and found our assigned seats for the first round. The woman who was in charge of my table told me this was her 13th tournament and she was yet to win. With eighty people playing I did not want to tell her that the odds were against her. I would have thought that as a Mah Jongg player she would understand that probability. Wearing her Mah Jongg tiara she told me all about the weekly games she runs and how much she wins. I was not about to be intimidated.
For the most part it was a very nice group of people. My play was fairly good, but not good enough to be in the top 10% at the lunch break. My score was just under the scores they read out before we were sent to the buffet.
A kosher lunch of bagels, lox and kugel was exactly what I would have expected from a Hadassah event and it was fabulous. During lunch I was invited by some of my table mates to come and play Mah Jongg at their homes. It was a very cordial and inclusive group.
We played five rounds of four games during the whole day. The only disappointment was that they never let us know who won the whole tournament. Not that it mattered, there were no prizes. 
Although it was fun to compete with the sisterhood of Mah Jongg players I like playing for money so much better. I can tell right way if I have had a good day or not by the pile of quarters.  
For the tournament they scored somewhat differently than we do in regular play. There were serious penalties for being the person who gave Mah Jongg to the winner. This changed the game from an offensive game to more defensive. I watched woman give up their chance at winning a game, just to make sure they did not give Mah Jongg to someone else. If I were to run a tournament I would have to think twice about this scoring. If you always play defense you never win. I guess my life philosophy is like my Mah Jongg, always play to win and you will come out ahead, even if that means you help someone else along the way.

Senior Basketball Night

I wish I knew how many hours I sat in the bleachers, drove to far off games, cheered for every shot attempt, bought gatorades and bagels, all in support of the Varsity Basketball team. I would do it all again double. Watching Carter play, or just be the loud one calling plays in from the bench has been a fun way to spend her high school career with her.  
Tonight was senior night as it was the last home game of the regular season. Carter and her teammate Grace Drewry were the two senior captains graduating from the team this year. Carter’s coach Krista wrote that Carter is “considered the ‘team mom’ her maturity and leadership have been truly exceptional for the program.”
Basketball has been a fabulous place to learn for Carter. Hard work, team dynamics, psychology, perseverance, selflessness are lessons best learned young. Thanks to her coaches Krista and Robert who have believed in Carter, pushed her and developed her. Not that she will go on to any career is basketball, but she will use the tools she cultivated everyday as she goes forward to bigger things.
Belonging to a team has been the best benefit. Not just for Carter as a player, but for me and Russ as parents. We have an exceptional group of supportive parents who cheer each girl on as if they were their own. When Russ and I arrived at the gym we were met by Liz & Bennet Roberts and Liz’s grandmother who came to celebrate senior night even though Liz is now a Freshman playing basketball at UNC. We have missed them at every game this year and it was so generous of them to show up for senior night tonight despite having graduated from DA. That is the kind of family that this basketball team has been.
For her “senior night” game Carter made two perfect free throws. Well, I’m not sure they were perfect, but they went in and added points to the winning score. She played with heart and happiness. What more can a parent ask for?

47,628 Stitches

Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight stitches.

Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-twenty moments so dear.

Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight stitches.

How do you measure, measure a year?
In needles, in canvas

In colors of yarns

In birds, in hats

In never ending brown
Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight stitches.

How do you measure a year in the life
How about love?

How about love?

How about love?

Measures in love

Seasons of stitching

Stitching the love
Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight stitches.

Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight threads to be pulled

Forty-seven thousand, six hundred, twenty-eight stitches.

How do you measure the life

Of a stitching nut?

Super Bowl Rainbow Ads

Growing up in the sixties and seventies I rarely saw an ad that had anyone that looked like me. Although I am white, I was brunette girl and I was not the ideal that Madison Avenue used to represent their products. Most people in ads were men first, then beautiful blonde women and they all were white. They had perfect teeth and were always thin. It seemed that ad guys picked actors in the aspirational mold rather than the representational type.
After cooking all day I finished right in the nick of time to watch the coin toss of the Super Bowl. I know I missed a lot of ads that happened during the pre-game show, but I came to the TV right as the Coke ad was running showing the biggest rainbow of people of all looks. It made me feel good about America despite the current administration.
This Coke ad reminded me of the “I’d like to teach the world to sing” Coke ad. In 1971 when that ad came out it was ground breaking in the rainbow of people it featured. It was a changing moment for Madison Avenue. Finally regular people were staring in ads and we liked them and it made us feel good about ourselves.
Now beautiful people are not out of the business of selling us stuff, but I feel like the ads showing the many faces of America remind us that we are one country. A few minutes after the Coke ad, Ford had a really good one with faces of many colors. Then so did Air BnB.
Thanks Madison Avenue. Don’t let what is currently happening in Washington take us backwards in representing all kinds of people in ads. There is nothing wrong with being a beautiful skinny blonde white young woman, just that is not the majority of who we are.  
If I drank soda I would go buy a Coke just to support their ad campaign. I guess I will have to drive my Ford to the store and buy a Dasani water. Nothing supports policy better than voting with your dollars. I am going to take note of all the advertisers who are promoting kindness, diversity and inclusion and buy their products first.

Bad Calendar Management

I’m not always good at looking ahead on my calendar. I generally know what is upcoming if I put it on the calendar, but something’s get populated automatically. If you don’t use an electronic calendar you might not understand how this works. I use my Apple calendar and subscribe to things like Carter’s school info. This means that all the details for basketball games are automatically put my calendar.  
Today I realized for the first time that Carter does not have school on Monday. If I had looked ahead I would have known that it is a teacher workday. The day after the Super Bowl is becoming more and more a day that people don’t show up for work, so this might have been well planned.  
As soon as I realized it was a day off I decided it might be a good day to provide food for my cooking challenged friends. I also had a big bag of carrots and garlic that I needed to cook so I decided that chicken and veggie phyllo pie would be a good thing to make this weekend. So off to Costco I went. In the back of my head I knew that the Super Bowl is tomorrow, but it was not on my calendar.
As I waited many minutes just to turn into the Costco parking lot I kicked myself for bad calendar management. I generally don’t like to go to Costco on weekends or before big holidays but on a big holiday weekend, what was I thinking? I circled the parking lot looking for a parking spot. It was a little bit of a shock to my system was I was not able to get my regular, first row-right next to the cart corral spot. Eventually I got one after waiting for a man to unload a big screen TV into his Honda Accord, along with seven cases of beer.
Once in the store I dodged many groups of amateur shoppers who were lazily browsing the stretchy pants section. That is good planning on the day before Super Bowl. I squeezed my way past them skillfully using my cart as if it had a cow catcher on the front to part the oblivious shoppers. I made it back to the vegetable cooler, which much to my surprise of empty of other shoppers. Apparently people don’t eat vegetables on Super Bowl Sunday.  
Like a running back who just caught the ball on the way to the end zone I swiftly made my way to the fresh chicken cooler where I tossed in pounds and pounds of chicken. Gliding my cart to the milk cooler, which was also empty of all shoppers, I was on the home stretch to get to the checkout. Where were all the people who had filled the parking lot? The stretchy pant section was not that full.
As I rounded the aisle where the chips are I found them. A sea of humanity packed so tight they looked like passengers trying to board the life boats on the Titanic. I stopped and backed myself out of there since I was in no need of chips. I made a mad sprint down the middle of the store to get to the check out lanes that are often the shortest, but only seasoned Costco shopper know how to get there without having to squeeze around all the other lines.
Miraculously, I got behind one man buying nothing but water. “You must be from Chapel Hill,” I commented. He was. I was in and out of Costco in less time than it took me find a parking place. Buying real food that needs to be cooked is unpopular this weekend.
I can’t think of anything better to do on a Super Bowl Sunday than make chicken pies for my friends. Keeping busy cooking takes my mind off eating traditional cheesy, gooey, spicy, fattening Super Bowl snacks. I just need to remember to look further ahead in my calendar and plan accordingly.

Need Water?

Carter and I got home from her basketball game in Raleigh tonight and I went to the fridge and got myself a glass of ice water. It was easy. I put the glass up to the dispenser on the fridge and after the glass half filled with yummy crushed ice I switched it over to cold refreshing water and took a big gulp. That’s when it hit me. My friends in Chapel Hill don’t have any water tonight.
I was at Chapel Hill Needlepoint around noon today when the guy who runs my favorite lunch spot, Lucha Tigre next door popped in to say they were closing as were every restaurant in the whole town due to a water emergency. He followed that up by tell Nancy that all homes and businesses were ordered not to use any water, including flushing toilets. What!?!?!
The hope was they could fix whatever was wrong in four or five hours, but even that long is too long to go without water. I stayed at needlepoint a while and by one thirty felt like I should get home to Durham, land of running water. I told my needlepoint friend Nancy she was welcome to come to my house if she needed water.
Apparently I waited in Chapel Hill too long because the University let everyone go and the public schools were closing so everyone could go home and not have water at their own houses. As I sat in a big traffic jam trying to get home I called one friend to invite her to come stay at my house. “Thanks, but we have a well and septic and for once I am happy not to be on city water'” she told me. What good news.  
By the time I got home it was time to leave to go to Raliegh. On my way there I heard on the radio the water ban had extended for another 24 hours. Since I was walking into a game I did not stop and call other Chapel Hill friends to extend water to them. I got home late and now I feel a little guilty drinking this yummy glass of water. I want to throw it out there that any of my Chapel Hill friends who need water, the facilities or a shower are welcome to come to our house. I heard that all the bottled water was sold out in Orange and Durham Counties by two in the afternoon. 
I hope that they can get this problem fixed faster than that. Life without water is just plain hard, especially for a plumbing loving society like ours.  

The Groundhog Needed a Better Agent

Today is that festive day known as Groundhog Day. Not a holiday, nor a real celebration, yet everyone knows when and what it is. I bet if I asked you the actual date of Veterans Day you would not be able to tell it to me. It is quite a miracle that Groundhog Day is so well known.
Groundhog Day was started in the 1880’s by Pennsylvania Germans following some pagan folk lore about predicting weather. Scholars of such thing say it was more likely a badger or a bear who emerged from some hibernating place in the old country to predict spring. I think it is more likely they came out to go to the bathroom, get a snack and go back to sleep.
Regardless, the Groundhog part of the equation is a pure PR stunt made up by the people of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania as a way to get people to come to their “not much going on” town. They probably cold not find a badger and certainly did not want to wake a sleeping bear so they drafted the unsuspecting Groundhog, a rodent they could pick up and photograph.
The poor Groundhog of 1887 had no idea the reputation he was tying his wagon to by becoming the spokes animal for weather predictions. The idea that if a Groundhog sees or does not see his shadow is absurd. For all we know the Groundhog might not see shadows at all. They are not animals know for spectacular eyesight. Best we can do is tell if we see his shadow or not.
The worst thing you can be is a weather predictor prior to modern day climate science. One hundred and fifty years ago until really recently the Groundhog had a fifty-fifty chance of getting the prediction wrong. So the Groundhog was being set up to fail.  
The third thing against the success of this day is that the groundhog is not a cute cuddly furry animal like a rabbit. It is a prickly, pointy nosed rodent. Hard to be a good salesman for anything with those beady eyes. And don’t get me started on the need for a manicure.
The Groundhog needed better representation when he hooked his wagon to the non holiday day. The least the Groundhog could have done was demand some fabulous food also be associated with this day. Cupid got chocolate, the Easter bunny got candy and eggs, the turkey got, oh turkey, not a good example, but no food for the Groundhog.
We might like the Groundhog better if on this second day of February we were all given an excuse to break our boring winter diet because in celebration of the Groundhog we ate some yummy German coffee cake. I am shocked the enterprising Germans in Pennsylvania did not promote Groundhog soft pretzels or something else they could sell. Perhaps this is why they were the Germans who were run out of the country. They were obviously not the smart ones.  
They did not pick a cute enough animal, they had no food and they made it a ceremony that happens at sunrise, not a good party time of day.  
As far as I am concerned Groundhog Day is an example of a failed PR campaign. Yes we know what it is, but we don’t care what the outcome is and we can certainly live without it. “You are as slow as Groundhog Day,” said no one ever.
 

Power Lunch

Yesterday I met one of my fellow basketball mothers in the lobby of the opponent’s gym before our girl’s game. “I made a big pot of quinoa on Sunday and sent it in with her for lunch.” She told me. We have a running joke that her daughter plays her best basketball when she has quinoa. If her daughter has a less than stellar game her mother confesses there was no quinoa. Yesterday, was a big win. Tied in the first quarter, up a few points at the half and a blow out of a win by more than twenty points in the final. As my friend was crossing over me in the bleachers after the game I said, “Keep feeding that quinoa.”  
It may have started as a joke, but there might be something to that power lunch. The quinoa provides protein that is satisfying from a hunger point of view as well as supplying power in a more steady manner than just a plain old carb might.  
If I were smarter I would plan all my meals around what my up coming tasks were and not what I was craving. I always eat breakfast before I go work out. I know that I don’t get the most out of my training time if I go on an empty stomach. I usually eat high protein cereal, fruit and milk which provides a balance. That is the only time I think about what I am eating in relationship to what I need to get done.
If I eat carbs in the late afternoon, when I am already having a sinking spell, they will just make me more tired in the long run. Yes, I might get a small spike in energy if I have sugar or caffeine, but the subsequent crash is inevitable. Perhaps what I need is a little cup of quinoa to just take the edge off, and give me a lower fat protein boost. Of course I am not running up and down the basketball court. Hell, I am not running anywhere, but I still could use the boost.  
So I am going to try and keep a little journal of what I eat, when I eat it and how I feel and preform afterwards. Perhaps this will be the incentive I need to eat the right foods at the right time. If I can prove to myself that sugar is ultimately slowing me down perhaps I can steer clear of it. Oh the things I try and tell myself so I do the right thing. If only I had a mother making my lunch with just the right fuel! Oh yeah, I am the mother.

Party Suggestions Needed

Carter’s senior year is speeding by. This morning we had the first meeting of the senior mother’s to plan the graduation party. It was an excellent turn out and many who could not make it made sure to email a response of support for the party. One friend got to my house and teared up a little saying, “I still remember the first coffee I came to for this class, how can it be over.” Well, it ain’t over yet. We have a party to plan.  
Of course there will be food, a Dj, dancing, a photo booth, a slide show but we want this to be such a fun party they won’t want it to end. So I am reaching out to all you blog readers for ideas for the most fun activities you know of for parties. It might be something that you encountered at a fabulous Bar Mitzvah, or a great wedding shower where you played a game. Give me your ideas, we can adapt them to this age and time.  
This will after all be the last time these kids will all be together. As ready as they all are for graduation it starts to hit you that you will not be together as a group ever again. Yes, kids will stay in touch with their very good friends and some will even go to college together, but they won’t be sitting in the same class with a person they have known since they were four, or one who played on the lacrosse team for four years. They will not have that short hand of being able to just look at a friend when someone says something that makes them mad. That takes some time to develop in the new friends they make.
Sometimes at these endings people become friends with someone they hardly knew all through school and they say, “Why weren’t we better friends earlier? Now the time is gone.” We want this party to be the one that they will look back at and say, “it was the perfect ending.”
So what makes a party memorable if you are eighteen? Throw out ideas. Tell me what you think has failed at other parties. Those things are just as important to know. Thanks in advance for any ideas.  
I have to send a communication out to the parent body to let them know how the first meeting went. I would love to give them a few ideas in that letter that will make them excited about working on it. So suggest away. No idea is too crazy, well that’s not true, no sky diving, bungee jumping or luge runs. We are limited to an indoor party.

Driving Lessons

Due to a heavy foot in a rural community I am getting to spend five hours tonight in a driving class to avoid a penalty. You know I would do almost anything not to pay a penalty, but this class at night is scary. I am writing this during one of my ten minute breaks because I don’t want to stay up a minute more than I have to when I get home, because fatigue is something that should be avoided at all costs if you plan on operating a motor vehicle in the next day.
From what I have learned already, most of which I knew, you should not text, phone, put a Cd in, change the radio, adjust the temperature, take off a sweater, look at your self in the mirror, eat or drink anything, talk to a person in the car, out on chap stick, think about who the president is, listen to the news which might make you mad, think about the slow driver in front of you, think about the fast driver behind you, drink alcohol, take cold medicine, swallow cold medicine with a swig of bourbon, smoke a joint, snort cocaine, try and find your dealer while the car is moving, wave at your friend, beep your horn, flash you lights, take your clothes off and flash something else, raise your finger or any other body part in anger and we are only two hours into the class.
Basically driving is dangerous. It takes every brain cell you have to be hyper focused on driving. Watch all the other crazy drivers. They are probably at the very least mad about something the government is doing and that alone makes they a hazardous driver. I must stop now and pay attention in class or I might not pass and then I will really be a hazard on the road on the way home.

Shay as Restaurant Hostess

 
Days that I cook food for my friends are Shay Shay’s favorite days of all time. Not because she gets to eat any of the food I cook. She is not interested in red wine vinegar chicken, well maybe just the chicken. No, she likes the coming and going of friends at our house.
 
She sits at the front door, or on her bed in the kitchen looking out the glass door awaiting the arrival of a new friend. The doorbell rings and she bounds up on the storm door opening it slightly, greeting each visitor with the air of, “Where have you been all day.” Shay thinks anyone coming to our house is doing it just to see her and she loves it.
 
She leads each person to the kitchen, the place she is sure they want to go. She knows that is where she would want to go if she were a visitor. Shay likes it best when they stay and visit a while so she can get some snuggles. 
 
Shay would make the perfect restaurant hostess. She would greet each guest with the happiest smile and nods of her head indicating you are the most important human on earth. She is happy to lead you to a table where she knows you will be well fed. Shay would come back by your table throughout the meal to ensure you were happy. After you were done she would give you a kiss and say, “Please come back soon.”
 
Dogs as hostesses would make a place very popular with most of my friends based on how sweet they are to Shay. If only dogs were allowed to even go to restaurants, let alone get jobs. Until that time she will have to remain the greeter at our house. Come on over, she is waiting to see you.

Mah Jongg Class Offering

Last week I picked up teaching a new group who wanted to improve their Mah Jongg. Then after they had started I got a call that some other friends want to learn. So I am going to be offering a class for beginners. The class is three-three hour sessions. It will be held at my house during the day, but which day is yet to be determined. It is $50 for the class and you will walk away knowing the basics of the game and probably some new friends. You may also become obsessed, but the good news is that once you learn it is not expensive and it is calorie free. If you are interested please email me at dana@onelangegroup.com, or PM me on Facebook or call me or stop me in the grocery store.  
Mah Jongg is much easier to learn than bridge. You can play with three or four, or five no have one person sitting out each round. It is excellent for your brain and with each passing day I find the more things I do to exercise my brain the better off I am. And Mah Jongg is so much more fun than doing long division in my head. I am not sure they even call it long division anymore.

This is the perfect Mah Jongg weather too.  So take advantage of this indoor time of year.  It is always a good ide to ask your friends if they want to learn with you so you can play together, but you can certainly come alone.  I will do everythin gpossible to help you facilitate a game.

There is nothing political about Mah Jongg so you can play with people you might otherwise disagree with and you will never argue, because you will be too busy trying to win. I feel like in the world we are in right now the more things we can do that are fun and not confrontational the better off we will be. Rather than putting your head in the sand, put it in your new Mah Jongg card and learn to play something you can do for the rest of your life.  

Global Warming – Hard to Ignore

It’s the end of January and two months early the daffodils are about to bloom in my front yard. If I lived in Miami I might not be surprised, but here in the triangle of North Carolina those bulbs should not sprout so soon. It made me consider why the current President does not believe in global warming, which to my eyes is evident in my front yard. The man has always lived in New York City or in Miami. What could he possibly know about gardening? Well, he also has a house in New Jersey, the garden state, but I seriously doubt he has ever done any actual gardening.
When you live in a climate-controlled high rise of course it would be easy to scoff at “global warming” especially if any action to do anything about it might hurt you economically. But hurt us it all will. Daffodils coming up in January, perhaps to only be killed by fluctuating winter temps that are sure to come, are not a huge knock on the economy, unless you are a bulb importer. I am not sure it is worth my time or money to plant any more bulbs, which may or may not make it in a year. But most of our food comes from farmers who grow it and these wide swinging temperatures hurt the growing season.
Imagine you are a peach grower. If we have a long warm spell in January it causes your peach trees to bud. Then a cold snap comes, as it should in February and all the buds on your trees are killed. There is not enough time for that tree to recover and produce a full trees amount of buds, the necessary flowers to make fruit.
It might pay us to require all Presidents to do a stint as a farmer for one whole year so they can understand the connection between weather and livelihood. Being a farmer can be heart breaking because there are so many variables you cannot control. But having global warming deniers in power is a slap in the face.
Perhaps the President’s New York view of agriculture are the tulip beds on Park Ave. that are carefully replanted each fall with new and big tulip bulbs, carefully watered, fertilized and tended to ensure perfection and paid for by The Fund For Park Ave. Sorry Mr. President, that million dollars spent every year on 32 blocks of park strip is not the way most of America grows things. Most of us are dependent on the real weather, that means temperature and rain. Maybe if the sea levels rise up high enough to engulf Mar-a-lago you will believe that we should listen to actual scientists.

Thanks to Good Neighbors 

There is nothing better living in a small community where people know you and help you at the very moment you need them. Without giving the particulars I want to give a big shout out to Debbie Rand who was a calming voice at the right time. Rayner England who helped and showed up at my house with a treat and a balloon. My ministers Betty and Chris who showed up out of no where. Liz Yancy, Marjorie Pearson and Marla Wald who stopped to see if they could help.
Neighbors are wonderful things. But being neighborly is sometimes hard. I feel blessed to have such great neighbors who truly understand what being neighborly means. Everything is fine now thanks to the kindness of these people. I hope that I can be that kind of neighbor if the situation calls for it. 

Not Mary Tyler Moore!!!!

Mary Tyler Moore was my role model women when I was young. I never missed an episode of the Mary Tyler Moore show on Saturday nights, although I sometimes was relegated to watch it on the secondary tv because my sisters would want to watch Emergency.  
As a girl growing up during the women’s revolution of the late sixties and early seventies Mary was a great role model. She was a successful working woman. She had her own cool apartment and her life did not revolve around trying to get a man. Yes, she dated on the show, but it always seemed to be on her terms. She had strong female friends, Rhoda and Phylis. And she was even friends with men who she was not sleeping with, Murray and Ted.  
“Mare” was everything I wanted to be. She drove a cool mustang and spoke truth to power in her relationship with Mr. Grant, yet still had respect. She was beautiful and as a girl with brown hair it was great to have a brunette star in the days of Jeannie, Bewitched and Carol Brady.  
Betty White as Sue Ann Nivens, the nymph at the TV Station was the perfect frienemy to Mary. I can only imagine how Betty is feeling with losing a much younger co-star. I hope that Valerie Harper and Betty White stay well. I know Valerie has had cancer, but I can’t bear the thought of losing all these women.  
I know that it is crazy to miss a TV star, but it is the end of an era I loved. I’m going out in my front yard and throw a hat up in the air in tribute to Mary.

Janie at 79

Can you believe that my beautiful mother is going to be 79 tomorrow. She hardly looks a day over 50! Since I have to take Carter to get her passport renewed tomorrow I went up to the farm today to take my mother out to lunch today. There is nothing my mother likes better than someone else buying her lunch.  
It was a bonus day for her because she cut her crab cake in half to take as her lunch tomorrow at bridge. I wish that someone else was taking her to lunch on her actual birthday, but that would interfere with bridge. So a left over half a crab cake that someone else bought her will make the perfect birthday lunch.
Every birthday is important, but I feel like when you are going to be 79 they should be even more celebrated. But my mom does great for someone half her age. She wins at bridge multiple times a week. Teaches art and paints her own paintings everyday. Reads multiple books a week. And the most amazing thing is free hand needlepoints, which means she does not have anything already painted on the canvas. To top it off she can discuss both college and professional football as if she has a show on ESPN.
If you know my Mom, send her a shout out today. She might not hear it, that is the one thing that is going at her age, but she will eventually read it. Don’t expect a response you will understand. She has never quite mastered key boarding. She does not capitalize or use punctuation, with the exception of using a comma as an apostrophe. All typed communication is one run-on sentence you think is written by e.e.cummings. That’s just my very artistic mother who says, “Well, you understood what I was saying.”  
Understand this Mom, “I love you!!!” I meant to use those three exclamation points. I really like punctuation, but not as much as I like you. Happy Birthday! 

New Year, Same Me

The New Year inspirational statement normally is, ” New Year, New You.” For me it is more like, “New Year, Same Me.” Actually, what is the same is that I am always going up or going down, but never staying the same.  
I have spent the last six months going up. No amount of will power, self talk, artificial incentives have changed that. Today I got up this morning with the resolution of getting back to “better me.” It worked for half the day. I went to the gym, came home, got on the tread mill got my steps, ate a healthy lunch, then I fell apart, by eating too much popcorn. The way I look at it is I was half better. That is better than I was yesterday. Maybe tomorrow I can be three quarters better.
I am not looking for a “New Me.” I am too old to try out a new anything. I would just like to be slightly better most days.
Not just with my eating and my exercise, but in my parenting, partnering, daughtering, sistering, friending, working, pet caring, organizing, needlepointing and gaming. I would like to be slightly nicer, not so much that I am unrecognizable. A tiny bit more soft spoken, but not lose the ability to stop a trash truck half way down the street with my voice. A better listener, but not at the expense of telling a good story. 
I am not looking for any magic bullet, miracles or Devine intervention. I just want to recognize when something is as good as it gets or that I still have a chance to make an impact for improvement. I’m not interested in perfection, just most things getting a tiny bit better more of the time than not.
So let’s be real. It’s a new year, but it is still the same old me. I’m good with that.

Road Trip Success

Carter got home tonight after her exciting weekend at the Women’s march. She gave me the whole download on getting from my sister’s by the Cathedral to the Mall. Talking about the great camaraderie of the women on the city bus and the metro.  
She loved a group of sixty five year old women she and Campbell met at the March who were college friends and came from all over to March together. They had a wall they were able to sit on and they rotated among their group getting to sit down. They put Carter and Campbell into their sitting rotation which was very generous of them. At one point one of them was trying to open a bag of trail mix and Carter helped her do that, so she gave Carter a handful of mix. Carter said it was that way all day. People were generally so nice and supportive. She said the speakers were good, but the actual March was the best. She showed me pictures of all the signs people left by the metro stops. It was a sea of clever and touching posters.
I am most appreciative of my sister Margaret who was so nice to have the girls stay with her. She texted me this morning saying that Carter and any of her friends are welcome anytime to visit. I think now that Carter has mastered the road trip she is going to be going again.
After leaving Margaret’s, Carter and Campbell went to meet up for coffee with Carter’s Godfather, David, my oldest Washington friend. Afterwards David sent me a picture of he and Carter together saying, “I realized she is just a few years younger than you were when we first met.” I told him she is just five years younger. How can this be?
When Carter got home she wanted to look at old pictures of my Washington days. Since both David and I were usually the photographer, most of the pictures have either, but not both of us in the shot. I did find this one picture of us from an Easter visit to the Cathedral. That has to be the explanation for my hat. It also was the early eighties so there is no accounting for the outfits.

I am just so thankful for my Washington crowd for taking such good care of my baby as she gets her first taste of activism. I’m glad she is back home safe and sound with me, but know she can handle going out into the big world alone.

Carter and Campbell Go to Washington

Last week while Russ was away Carter texted me early in the morning before school, “I have something to talk to you about.” That’s how parent/child communication is these days, through text. It sounded ominous, I was a little worried. A few minutes before she had to leave for school she came up and sat on my bed. What was she was going to tell me, she was so serious.
“Campbell and I want to go to the Women’s March.” What a relief. “OK.” I took a breath. “How are you going to get there?”  
“We can drive my car and ask Aunt Margaret if we can stay with her.”  
“If it is OK with Campbell’s mom and OK with Margaret you can go.”
I was so relieved that my daughter wanted to do something civically minded, not something teenagerish that I was thrilled she wanted to go to D.C. It is up to the young people in this country to speak out for what they want from government. Lobbies like AARP have been powerful because they get their constituents out to vote. It is time for the young to band together and set some priorities. 
My sister Margaret enthusiastically invited Cater and her friend to stay at her apartment. Since she does not live near a metro they got up early to catch the bus to get to the March. I got a text from them at the bus stop at 8:30 this morning saying they were making friends already. They must have gotten to the March in a timely manner because the report was they were up at the front.

It was a long day. Carter said the speakers were amazing. The only bad part was a day without food which made for some hangry marchers, but they did march. By five in the afternoon they were making their way back to the Margaret’s. I have no idea how long that took them, but Chinese delivery food solved the no eating problem.  

They are visiting with Carter’s godfather David tomorrow before heading home. I can’t wait to hear all about the day from her in person. It will be something she and Campbell remember the rest of their lives. There are issues they are concerned about and they took the first step to help create the world they want to live in. If you don’t like something you can’t just complain. Marching in of itself won’t solve it, but it is a first step towards being the change you want to see in the world. Well done Carter and Campbell. I am proud of you.

Kindness Response

Thanks to the brilliance of my friend Andrea Cash I went out of my way to do a few random acts of kindness today in response to her Kindness Blitz to “make America Kind again.” As Carter went off to school I told her what I was planning. She said, “Yes, please do that, but not just for the blog.” It might have been kinder of her to think that I do things to actual be good and not to just blog about them. Nonetheless the whole point of the Kindness Blitz was to not only be kinder, but to share your kindness in the hopes that it inspires others to be kinder.
I had to stay home most of the day so I could be kind to the people who I was feeding today. I don’t feel like being kind to people I already know and love is moving the kindness needle. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do in a limited amount of time. I decided that I wanted to show love to those people for whom today might be the scariest. So I went up to La Superior, the Mexican grocery store where they make fresh tortillas.  
My plan was to pay for people’s tortillas and baked goods that they had on their trays to purchase. Since I don’t speak Spanish it was interesting to see how I was going to handle this. I shop every so often at la Superior, but am still considered an outsider there.  
I went to the tortilla line and ordered a pound of tortilla’s which they wrapped for me. Then I waited for two other people behind me to do the same. I went to the cash register just in front of them and paid for mine and said to the clerk I want to pay for the people behind me. She rang the first person up and I handed over the money to the clerk. It totally confused the woman. I looked at her and said, “it’s on me.” Not a phrase she understood. The clerk said something in Spanish and the woman fanned herself and bowed her head in thanks.
We repeated this with the family behind her, but the young boy of the family spoke English and asked me why I was doing this. I did not want to make a big fuss, but just said it was a day to be nice to people. He smiled a big smile.  
By this time there was another person waiting so I went ahead and treated her to her baked goods. She did something that I think was a blessing on me. I just wanted people to have something happen to them that made them happy and know that the country is not going to hell.
I did a few other minor kindnesses on my way home, like stopping the line of cars so two young men could cross the road and letting a mother with two kids go in front of me at the gas station. Nothing big, but kinder than I usually am. I am going to try and keep this going and do at least two random acts of kindness everyday. I can’t be buying everyone’s tortillas everyday, but I can easily hold doors, or leave notes thanking someone.  

Mah Jongg Life Master

Today I was invited to give a class of what I would call intermediate Mah Jongg to a group in Chapel Hill. It was one of my favorite things to do and they were a lovely group of ladies.
I started teaching Mah Jongg when Durham Academy started Academy Nights, a fundraiser of enrichment classes. It was well before Carter even went to DA. I estimate that I have taught many hundreds of people to play Mah Jongg. It is not really a hard game to learn to play, but mastering it is another thing.
The group I was with today were celebrating their one year anniversary of playing together. It was the perfect time to have a lesson. They understood the basics, and were ready to conquer some of the nuances of the game.  
I had not made a lesson plan because I wanted to see what level they were at, but it did not take long for me to find many themes in their playing where they could step up to the next stage. I realized that some of my ideas about teaching them strategy and probability would have to wait for another lesson. It occurred to me that I probably could find things to teach people about Mah Jongg for four or five lessons. Not that there are that many people looking to become Mah Jongg life masters, a designation that does not exist. Or should it?
Bridge has tournaments and people collecting points and trying to move further and further up the bridge ladder. Maybe Mah Jongg needs the same thing. Currently Mah Jongg is a dynasty run by a family in New York City. They also have a Mah Jongg cruise, but outside of that there is no formal ranking of Mah Jongg players. It seems like it is an opportunity to encourage people to improve their play. If they are competitive enough to play they might want to document how good they are with points or rankings.
I see creating regular Mah Jongg tournaments around the country. Just another one of my crazy ideas to make money. For now I am happy to teach people the game. A number of people have asked me when my next beginners class is and I did not keep track of who you were. So if you or someone you knows wants to learn please contact me.  
If your Mah Jongg group wants an advanced lesson I am also available to come to you. What I realized today is that I like teaching Mah Jongg almost as much as playing it. Now, how can I get these tournaments started?

The Children Are Watching

Carter was seven years old when then Senator Obama was running in his first presidential primary. She was watching a debate with Russ listening to Hillary, John Edwards, Joe Biden, Barack Obama and a few others. She turned to Russ and said, “I like Obama, he has sparkle.” 

We were more familiar with the others, but Russ agreed with that wisdom from a young Carter, that he did have something about him that drew us in.  
Now, eight years later he is the only President Carter really has any memory of. I am so thankful that he and his family have been the best role models for my daughter. I don’t want to praise his accomplishments or call him out for things he was unable to get done, but I just thank to thank him for his lack of personal scandals. Not just Barack, but Michelle and the girls and their extended family. 
We had no Watergate, no “happy birthday Mr. President,” no Billy beer, on white water, no VP’s leaving office, no “e” on potato, no reading my lips, no psychics in the White House. All in all Obama was boring from the tabloid’s point of view. I am really going to miss that steady, no drama family.
The Obamas are classy and relatable and children across America saw a strong African American family being successful and not just at sports or in entertainment. This has made an impact on young people who, like my daughter only remember a President of color.  
In a few hours we will have the calm transition of power. Trump and his family have their work cut out for them to be as fine a role model for young people as the Obamas have been. I am not talking about legislation, just decency. I hope that for the good of all small children in our country they can have a President who inspires them, is kind and honest. Children don’t understand laws, but they can’t tell who has a true heart. Mr. President, the children are watching.

For the Record

I may need to start every blog with “allegedly” out of fear of being sued for something tongue in cheek I might have written. Since the “news” is no longer balanced and fair and all principals of journalism seem to have been thrown out the window, all forms of writing are being scrutinized. The first amendment is under attack and “fake news” is now a real thing.
For the record, this blog is opinion, satire, story telling, and food porn in that order. Sometimes it is diet advice, confessional, and tips and tricks. What it is not is news, fake or other wise. That does not mean that I might discuss things in the news, but then it becomes opinion.
Blogs were not created to become the news. We should have professionals do that. The loss of reporting on two sides of a story is something I mourn. The idea that Americans take “stuff” and I would like to use a stronger word, they read on the internet as gospel is idiotic. But that is how we got into this insular, protectionism situation.
If I write something bad about someone you like it is usually done with a comical tone. Take it that way. We need to encourage more comics to continue to poke fun at those who take ridiculous stands on issues if only to shine a strong light on them. I worry that the thin skinned who govern want to stamp down dissenting opinions rather than listening.  
Listening is the skill most needed in this country today. Then add empathy, kindness, and generosity in that order.  
I agree we need to be vigilant about stopping “fake news,” but not at the cost of different points of view. Journalism is the only industry specifically protected in the constitution. We need to keep it that way. But please let’s do a better job at separating journalism from entertainment.  
For the record…this blog is entertainment. Read it that way, laugh, cry, disagree, applaud, but don’t think it is news. If this blog brings up a serious issue for you, go to a serious and credible news site to research it. Don’t take my word for it, but please support “real” news because if we lose it we are screwed.