Kinston Part Deux

Almost two years ago out friends Chuck and Karen asked us if we had heard of a little restaurant in Kinston, NC called the Chef and the Farmer. Heard of it? You bet we had been salivating over it watching the PBS series “A Chef’s Life” all about the hidden gem in the unlikely Eastern North Carolina tiny town. We made plans then to come to eat at the restaurant together.
Well, life gets in the way and Chuck and Karen could not make the first trip we took to visit Kinston in late winter a year ago. By all accounts our first visit was a big success. Russ got us a room at the most lovely Bentley, Bed and Breakfast where we met Linda and Ward, our hosts. We had a fantastic dinner at the Chef and the Farmer on Friday night followed by a huge four hour breakfast on Saturday morning because we talked so long to Linda and Ward. As we left to go see what there was to Kinston and visit the Boiler Room, the sister restaurant to the Chef and the Farmer we got the kind of phone call every parent dreads. Carter had fallen off her horse and was in the hospital. A terrible end to a great trip.
Fast forward more than a year. Chuck and Karen still had not made it to The Chef and the Farmer and were talking with is about it. Russ wasted no time searching for reservations and found that due to its extraordinary popularity only a Tuesday might be available even three months in advance. He contacted Linda and we were lucky that she was available to host guests this same night.  
The two year wait did not dampen the expectations. After taking a scenic route to get here because of a little too much talking in the car we finally got Chuck and Karen to Kinston. We checked into the Bentley which was a very pleasant surprise for Chuck who claims to not like to have to talk to people who stay at Bed and Breakfasts. It is no wonder that he and Russ are friends since Russ has the same affliction.  
We started our culinary tour at the Boiler Room for drinks and some oysters to prime us up before dinner. I heard that the watermelon Pimms Cup was a mighty fine libation. I probably would have been happy eating a burger at the boiler room, but knew it was not the reason for our trip.  
We walked across the street to the restaurant a few minutes before our reservation. Soon enough we were seated with the much anticipated menu before us. So many good choices and only one meal to eat, this was just not going to suit. Thank goodness we had Chuck and Karen. We started by ordering a pizza to share before we even could consider looking further at the menu. The perfectly thin crust was expertly covered I a layer of creamed corn, local bacon, pecorino cheese and fresh basil and hot honey. Who would have thought that creamed corn makes the best pizza? And I have no idea why hot honey is, but I want it on everything.
We continued the sharing with a tomato salad, fried collards and a blue cheese spoon bread that was a side for the ribeye that we ordered, hold the ribeye. Splitting all these yummies four ways was the perfect way to taste more things. But that is where the sharing ended when three of the four of us order the tomato pie for dinner and Russ had the lamb burger. So much good food. I will be paying for this for a week of walking, but really once every 18 months it is worth it. Oh, did I mention the coconut tres leches cake with peaches, caramel and smoked pecans? Add one more week of walking just for that.
back to the Bentley to sit in the parlor just to digest a little before trying to climb the grand staircase up to bed. It is not a special occasion, but just a really good Tuesday. Certainly to me worth a trip to Kinston with good friends.   

The Great Stuff Migration

Today I began the movement of everything we own from the front of our house having to move to the back of our house so the floors can be refinished. I am not a lover of wall-to-wall carpet but right about now I would give my non-needlepoint hand to just be ripping up carpeting and replacing it rather than refinishing floors.    
In preparation for the the complete emptying of every closet and room I cleaned out and reorganized all out closets. It was probably the biggest job in the series of things I have to do. The sad part is now I have to dismantle these perfectly organized closets and pile everything up in our playroom while still leaving room for the movers to put all our big furniture there on Friday. Our playroom is much bigger than a moving van so I figure I can fit three bedrooms, a living room and dining room worth of furniture in it with all the playroom stuff.
The worst part of the move is the clothes. I have borrowed four large clothing racks to add to the two I already have. Today I looked like a Seventh Avenue garment worker rolling the industrial size rack into the breakfast room full of winter clothes. I’m sure that I could have weeded out a few more items before the migration happened, but I just was too hot to try on any wool.
As I took down the family photographs from the bedroom hallway I relived many of the trips they were taken on. Carter awaiting a train in Ireland wearing the orange shirt we bought when her luggage was four days delayed, Russ and I as tiny figures against a huge Waterfall in the North Carolina Mountains, my parents in the Vermont woods when we went to my cousin Haidee’s Appalachian trail wedding. Although I pass by these pictures dozens of times each day I don’t really look at them closely enough to step back into the memories they represent.
There is something wonderful about putting you hands on your memories. I decided that if something does not take me back to a place, or make me happy I should consider parting with it. The problem is that my long term memory is very strong and most of the stuff I moved today had meaning for me. I guess I am lucky that we are not down sizing yet, just moving everything temporarily. Then in three weeks time when the dust has actually settled and our well worn floors are remade new again I can loving move all this S$&# back into their rightful homes, hopefully more organized than before. 
Today I am reveling in the completely empty closets and bare walls. The look is sad, but the promise that it holds is great. I just pray that everything will fit and not fall on us.

No Cook Tomato Juice

I won’t make you read through a long post to know which tomato juice, the cooked and food mill one or the no-cook Vitamix version won the taste test. Russ as the impartial expert declared the no-cook version the winner. He says they both are good and worked well as the base for his doctored up concoctions, but the no cook was slightly better from the taste stand.
From the ease to make the no-cook is a no-brainer so from now on I don’t see any reason to look further, as long as you have a high power blender.
1/2 yellow onion- chopped

1 stalk of celery – chopped

4 large ripe tomatoes- cored and quartered

1 t. Lime juice
Put everything in the Vitamixer and start on the lowest setting and turn it up slowly over 30 seconds.  
Put a small mesh strainer or chinoiserie over a bowl and pour the liquid in. Using the back of a spoon push as much through the strainer as you can. Throw away any big pulpy mess that is left in the strainer. You should get most of it through the strainer. Salt to taste.
You can add peppers, either hot or sweet, carrots, cabbage, kale any vegetable you like to the vitamix, but the onions, celery and tomatoes are a good base to start with. 

Homemade Tomato Juice – The Cooked Version

I don’t know why I got this crazy idea that I wanted to make homemade tomato juice. Perhaps it was the yummy virgin Mary’s we had in Denver, but I knew it could not be that hard. I stopped at the farmer’s market and bought a 25 pound box of canning tomatoes for $10. Given the high price of premium Bloody Mary Mix I knew I was on to something. Then I researched how to make tomato juice.  
Turns out there are many camps from those who use and electric juicer and just run the tomatoes straight through raw to the cooked tomatoes and food mill way. Since I don’t have a juicer per se I started tonight doing a cooked version and running it through the finest strainer of my food mill. If you don’t know what a food mill is it s like a strainer with a blade that pushes the food through a metal plate that has holes.  
I liked the end product of straight juice, but in the morning a I will doctor it with lemon juice, hot sauce, horseradish, Worcestershire sauce and some spices to see if it makes Russ a happy Virgin Mary.
Tomorrow I am going to try the uncooked version and do it in my vitamix. You will get the full taste comparison then with that recipe. But here is how I made the cooked style.
1 yellow onion chopped

3 stalks of celery- chopped

10 big garden tomatoes, cored and quartered and all blemishes cut out

1/2 t. Salt

3 Splenda packets
I sprayed a big stock pot with Pam and put the onions and celery in the pot on a medium high heat on the stove. Stirring often to prevent any blackening cook the onions and Cleary for five minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook on high for 25 minutes, stirring often. The tomatoes were not all perfectly ripe so I added the Splenda for sweetness. If you have very ripe tomatoes you won’t need more sweet. Add the salt to taste.
Put the food mill over a deep bowl and working in batches add the tomato mixture to the food mill, turning the handle to extract the liquid from the solids. Half way through you may have to dump out the solids left in the food mill. Transfer the juice to a pitcher and chill. Taste and add any spicy ingredients you want.

Vacation Recovery and Vacation Planning

Shay has been a sleeping puppy today trying to recover from her vacation from me. I too have been a little bit of a mess. I have only half unpacked, did no laundry, no grocery shopping, nothing serious except for throwing practically everything in the refrigerator away.
Instead I kind of eased back into real life. Christy and I went to lunch and then to Chapel Hill Needlepoint because we had to hear the story of our friend Elizabeth’s visit to the highland’s needlepoint store. Apparently it was just as much a jumble twelve years ago. I am practically sure that the computer belt was hanging on the wall in the same place then.
Sadly Ashley’s grandfather did pass away and she called me missing Carter. I was able to call camp and ask them to let Carter call her friend. Then after that Carter called me. All this sadness precipitated a request for us to come and take Carter home for one night during the session break next weekend. I thought about it, but then realized that our house will be uninhabitable because the floors are getting redone. So I decided we would drive out to camp and pick Carter up and go spend the night someplace out there.
Carter’s real request was to see Shay. This makes finding a place to stay particularly difficult. As it is the choices are very limited for just humans. When you add that I really like to sleep in clean places most of the “motel” choices are out of the question. Many of the nicer Bed and Breakfasts have a two night minimum on weekends and the air bnb’s that allow dogs are mostly built of cinder blocks. After hours searching the internet I might have found a place to stay in Mount Airy, only 50 minutes from Camp. I hope that Carter appreciates our visit and does not change her mind.
So before I could recover from one vacation I had to work on planning another. Although It is not so much a vacation as a chance to see our girl and give her some puppy time. Now in the time I have been writing this the place we were looking to stay got booked and now I have to go back to the drawing board to make this plan work. Vacation planning is a big pain in the ass.

The Ying and the Yang

All good things must come to an end and so the end of mother camp happened today with closing ceremonies over the final Mah Jongg table. Fours days away with my good pals, Mary Lloyd and Christy was the perfect mix of games, laughs and a break from the rigorous diet. It was not as much exercise as a I needed based on what I ate, but I came home ready to get back on both the healthy eating wagon and the treadmill for that last push.
Shay was exhausted when I went to pick her up from Camp Mary. She had spent the first two days going to work with Russ which meant she hardly napped at all so she could keep an eye on him and make sure he never left the office without her. Russ said she was a good work dog and even performed like a champ when they had a fire drill and she had to walk down four flights of stairs with the sirens blaring. Due to Russ’ company team meeting she had to go to her camp and play with the seven other camper dogs that were spending time there. Now she can hardly keep an eye open.
The only bad thing is that this morning before we left Highlands my phone rang and it was Carter’s great friend Ashley, who is my bonus daughter. She was sobbing and just needed to talk because her grand father on her mother’s side had fallen and is critical. With Carter unavailable by phone at camp, Ashley called me as the substitute. It broke my heart to hear the pain of losing her first loved one ripping her to pieces. I tried to be there as much as a I could talking and texting with her multiple times through the day. My heart goes out to her mother and whole family as the shock of this unexpected accident starts to sink in.
Being away from watching TV, hearing news, getting mail and dealing with day-to-day issues

was a wonderful break from reality, but listening to the gasping wails of a young girl in pain brought me back to the real world fast. It makes me cherish all the good things more, my family, puppy, friends and all that is good. I am reminded to be thankful, appreciative, humble and ever mindful that time is short.
I am holding Ashley, Ellie, Terry and Kayley in my prayers. I am hugging my husband and thanking him for the gift of time away with friends. I am rubbing Shay’s belly and snuggling her, appreciative for the calming effect a loving dog has on us. I am writing Carter at camp and telling her to contact her friend who needs her love and support. I am thinking of my good friends who bring sunshine to my world and appreciate the gift of friendship. Lastly I am thinking of my own wonderful family and be mindful of what they mean to me.

Merchandising Hell

Day three of the great girls get away and we have settled into the perfect balance of Mah Jongg playing, needlepointing, shopping, spaing, eating and lounging by the pool. This morning we ventured out of the hotel to have breakfast looking for something less formal and different. Although there are many restaurants in Highlands very few of them are open for breakfast. After searching the internet we found two choices, one in the back of a pharmacy “where the locals eat” and the other in a grocery store.  
We were not sure about eating at the grocery store so we walked up and down the sidewalk in search of the elusive “local’s spot.” Interestingly very few of the stores had street numbers on them and we were stumped. We stumbled into an alley thinking it might be on the back of the Main Street and still we could not find it. Instead we found a needlepoint store. For you non-stitchers you need to understand the sacristy of actual local needlepoint stores. This one might be the only one in Western North Carolina. Excitedly we peered in the windows of the very tiny shop. It was slightly untidy, but we were still excited nonetheless. Rounding the corner to find the front door we saw the sign “open at noon.”
Since it was still breakfast time we knew we needed to kill some time before the store would open so we settled on eating breakfast at the grocery store. It was absolutely the best thing we could have done. The food was delicious and the tables were comfortable so we had a long a leisurely gab filled meal. Since it turned out to be such a good store we bought some items to take home so we went back to the hotel to drop them off.
The mid-morning was still a little cool so we finished off visiting all the shops on the end of the street that we had not already gone in. Their merchandising was similar to the shops at the other end of the street. My favorite example was a kitchenware a store that had Crabtree and Evelyn nail polish, next to wrought iron cookbook stands, next to ceramic owls, next to fancy dish washer soap. You get the idea that it is a bit of a dog’s breakfast.
At last the hour that the needlepoint store should open approached. We wandered back through the alley and sat outside a beauty salon that was neighbor to the needlepoint shop. Noon came, no needlepoint opening. Mary Lloyd went and asked a neighboring shop owner if she knew the needlepoint lady. We came to find the hour sign on the door was merely a suggestion. As we loitered in front of the store we noticed three older ladies sitting in their car in front of the shop. They called out to us to ask if we were waiting for the needlepoint owner too?  
We struck up a conversation and they told us they were friends who all live in Florida and one of them had a house in Waynesville where she summers. They were like an older version of us, one even had a double name like Mary Lloyd. They said they came to this shop every year and had called the owner Monday to make sure she would open for them. Waynesville is an hour from Highlands and we were hopeful then that the owner would show up since now she had six customers waiting outside her shop. We were doubly hopeful she had better canvases than the ones we saw through the slightly dirty windows since these ladies came so far.
Eventually the owner came teetering down the path only twenty minutes late. She fumbled with the keys and we waited to be let I as if we might find some hidden treasure. The store was small and very well loved. Canvases were stacked on tables and in baskets and hung on the wall. Clearly many of them had been there quite a long time as evidenced by the “computer” themed belt with floppy disks and CD roms on it.
Mary Lloyd, Christy and I flipped through every Christmas ornament canvas in the place, desperately looking for something to buy after waiting so long to get in. Christy tried to get me to buy a mini stocking with a theme of cans of tuna fish, but I just couldn’t do it. Eventually I found a Peter Rabbit and Christy reached in a paper bag and found a heart that had very old yellow tape on the edges and a receipt from 1991. When she inquired about it the owner said, “you can buy it if you don’t mind that it belonged to a dead person.” Mary Lloyd had to leave the store at that point.  
Overall Highlands is a beautiful place, but it is clearly the land of misfit merchandising. I think that the whole town could be a case study for a retail merchandising class. I love to support local stores, and the ones in this town are not short on wares to sell, but clearly many of them need help to learn how to display things so customers can see what they have to sell. Except maybe the needlepoint lady, she just needs a lot more old customers who still have floppy disks.

The Dove Bar Room! 

I am person who likes to take full advantage of all amenities offered by a hotel. What’s the use of staying some place nice and not enjoying what you are paying for? The place Christy, Mary Lloyd are I are staying is nice with a capital N. Not only do we have a cute cottage with some big ass rooms, but we have set up our Mah Jongg table right in front of the fireplace and it makes a cozy place to play while we are dressed in out “soft clothes.”
After “hiking” this morning to look at a number of beautiful waterfalls with very short trails we headed back to town to do a little retail therapy. It was probably a good thing that most of the stores have very bad merchandising. You know, too much stuff crammed into to small a space and not in any order that makes any sense — bras on hangers, next to red rubber boots, next to lime green crinkle blouses, next to “the world’s best leggings.”
The rain started coming and we took that as our cue to get to the spa where we made an afternoon of lunching, whirlpooling, steaming, chaise lounge lying, needlepointing, being massaged, detox drinking, more lounging and then… Shopping. We did everything in the spa we could and are going to do it again tomorrow.
After all that hard work we had to brake down and visit the best free hotel amenity I have ever seen, “the free dove bar room.” I am not talking about birds, but rather the incredibly sinful and rich vanilla ice cream bars double dipped in the richest chocolate. Who has ever seen a whole room with a freezer full of ice cream decadence right there for the taking. Granted it is worked into the cost of the room, so you would just be a fool not to enjoy it.  
Being as exhausted as we were from all that spaing we decided we could not possibly go on to play Mah Jongg without some nourishment. So off to the dove bar room we went. I am going to be paying the piper for this break in healthy eating, but it was already paid for and quite frankly worth every last bite.  
Who knows what amenities we are going to stumble upon tomorrow. I am very hopeful that there is not a secret free cake cave. The dove bar room is bad enough.  

Moms’ Camp

Earlier in the year my friend Christy and I decided that we wanted to go to an advanced needlepoint class while our children were away at camp together. We have gotten fairly good at teaching ourselves new stitches and techniques, but knew that there things that one of the experts could teach us. We found the perfect class in Austin, Texas and in January we called the store that was hosting the class. The woman who answered the phone practically laughed me off the line when I inquired if she had two places for the July class. Apparently that class was filled two years ago and we could put our names on the list for the February in 2016!  
Christy and I certainly have no idea if we are available in 2016 and our children will not be a summer camp in February. Scratch that plan. Then we got to thinking about what we wanted to do with our time away from home and decided we could create our own needlepoint camp and throw in Mah Jongg and some spa treatment. Once we hit on the idea of adding Mah Jongg we asked our friend Mary Lloyd to join us since she liked all the same things we did.
Well, this Mommy camp idea is way better than going to a needlepoint class any day. We picked a place to stay in Highlands, NC which was a leisurely five hour drive from home. It would have taken five hours if we hadn’t had such a good time yakking in the car and driven 13 miles past our exit. No harm, we just turned around and eventually arrived at our Inn.
Jackpot! We have a not just two lovely rooms, but a huge living room where the Mah Jongg table is set up but two porches for outdoor playing in the day time. We wasted no time going to one of the pools and relaxing in the hot tub before a really yummy dinner.
Now we are back at our stone cottage readying ourselves for a good night of games and stitching. Why in the world did we think we needed to go to a class when now we can get a massage, play some games and needlepoint. I have already voted for Mom Camp every year. This is probably the best idea we have ever had. 

Breakfast Is Da Bomb in Denver

I wonder how big a city needs to be to support not just one, but a chain of a few nothing but breakfast restaurants? This morning Russ and I walked from our hotel to the Snooze at Union Station at eight in the morning and still had to wait forty-five minutes for a table. Snooze is a breakfast only place open from 6:30 ’til 2:30 that is none too small, inside with a nice patio of many tables outside too.  
This thing about waiting for breakfast is perfectly normal there as evidenced by the many, like hundreds of people willing to wait to eat. Snooze does it right by taking your phone and texting you first as a test, that you are waiting for a table and then when it actually comes up. They also have a big free coffee station with really cute bright orange mugs for all the waiting patrons. That was really smart because it kept people happy and put no work on the staff whatsoever.
Russ and I went out into the beautiful Station waiting area and sat with our coffee. Yesterday I wore the wrong pair of shoes for our walk to dinner and got a huge blister on my little toe. I thought I had it under control when we walked to breakfast, but I was very wrong. Thank goodness I found a pair of flip flops to buy after breakfast, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Back to Snooze –The menu was extensive. It was broken down into the art of Hollandaise, from the hen, the lighter side and then the sweet stuff. One thing they do to make deciding what to get easier is they give you lots of options to mix and match. Russ was then able to get two different Benedict dishes, one a Spanish style with pulled pork and the other a more Mexican one with Chilaquiles that has beef. I had a lighter smoked salmon with arugula, but was totally eyeing my neighbors three pancake mix and match that had a strawberry basil pancake, a lemon blueberry one and a sweet potato. If she had ordered the peanut butter cup pancake I would have reached my fork over to her plate and taken a bite.
We also had virgin versions of some great bloody Mary’s. Russ hit the jackpot with the Bangkok, which had sriracha, lime, basil, fish sauce and house spicy bloody mix. We will be recreating this at home, but it means I have to buy a case of tomatoes at the farmers market and make some homemade tomato juice, more to come on that.
All in all I would go back to Snooze in a second and even wait an hour again. What I want to know is Durham big enough to support a breakfast only, ok breakfast for lunch too place? I’m not just talking a weekend brunch type thing, but weekdays too. It just seems like we don’t have many options for real breakfasts, other than the big rise of donut shops. Maybe only workout crazed Coloradans have the metabolism to consume these kinds of calories so early in the morning. The place is full of young people. But Durham has its fair share of college students and the like. We need a Snooze.    

20,000 Steps in Denver and a Cold Shower

Russ has a meeting in a Denver suburb today so I came with him to make it a two day fun trip. just because I am here does not mean Russ is taking any time off, but we were lucky enough to be upgraded to a suite so when Russ woke up at three in the morning to start working he did not wake me because he went out and sat at the desk in the living room. Instead I was awoken at 5 by the sound of someone running on a treadmill in the gym above our suite. Since Russ was out of the bed I was able to go back to sleep by using his pillows to muffle the “shoowoosh, shoowoosh, shoowoosh of what had to be a two hundred pound marathon runner.
After a lovely breakfast of food I have not eaten in two months I was ready to take on the city while Russ was out in the burbs working. I had studied the local city magazine and spotted a number of places I was interested in visiting. On my way out the lobby I stopped at the front desk to see what the situation was with the “shoowooshing” and was told that yes, the gym above was the cause. There are American Idol tryouts today in Denver as well as a few other conventions so the hotel was booked. The manager on duty offered to comp our breakfast as an apology. I took it.
I headed out for a mile and a half walk to the Molly Brown House, you know Kathy Bates character in Titanic. It was not that early, but the streets were full of what looked like homeless people. Now this is Colorado, so I could have been mistaking some fully employed homeowners as homeless, but if I only counted the people with signs that read things like, “I really just want to buy some pot,” there were still many of them. These homeless people have obviously had too much pot because they had no idea how to ask for money. I almost felt like I should teach them, but their attention span’s could not handle a class from me.
The Molly Brown House was fine as these things go. I liked Phil our tour guide, who was probably ten years older than me and kept forgetting his place in telling the group the story of Margaret Brown, as she really was called before they made the movie “The unsinkable Molly Brown.” Maybe Phil had had too much pot too.
After the tour I walked up Pearl street looking for a gallery I had read about in 5280 Magazine (that’s a mile high). When I got to the street number for what I thought was going to be Art and Soul gallery I found a pot shop. I did not go in to ask where the gallery was, but looked it up on my phone. Turns out it is on Pearl St. in Boulder. That bit of info would have been helpful Ina magazine article, but maybe the editor had smoked too much that day.
I continued my walk around the Capital and back to the newly refurbished Union Station where I was hoping to have lunch at a place called the Mercantile I had read about. No luck it was closed for a week so the employees could have a vacation. Wonder what they are doing this week?
I continued walking and grabbed a bite while I did, looking for local stores. Those don’t really exist anymore. Denver has more hotels and restaurants downtown than I can imagine they can fill. The next greatest concentration of store front businesses are health club and gyms. If you aren’t homeless you work out a lot. People on the street are either dressed in yoga pants or tattered dirty shorts with heavy jackets, or are almost naked. This one guy was playing soccer by himself in front of a fancy hotel. I think he might have been the valet, but without a shirt I’m not sure I would give him my car.

After my many hours of walking, grimy and dirty and feeling like I should hold up a sign, I headed back to the hotel to take a shower and get ready for our one night here dinner with Russ. I was greeted with this letter on our bed — due to some emergency the hotel will be without hot water until 6AM. I guess they really want to make me feel like a Deverite. Well I don’t think I want to.

Made It To Denver

  
It’s summer and the fact that it is hot outside is no surprise. I have gotten more sensitive to air conditioning being too cold since I lost weight so today as I was packing to go to Denver with Russ I was surprised by how hot and sweaty I was feeling in my house.
I also was anxious to hear from Carter at camp since I had not gotten that first letter yet and was very interested in how she was doing as a CIT. The camp director had set the expectation that not all kids who love camp love being counselors. That unselfish move from being the one entertained to being the one doing the entertaining is a big transition.  
So in the sweltering heat I walked Shay Shay back and forth to the mailbox awaiting any possible letter. At last around one when I opened the box I was cautiously optimistic when I found four envelopes in the box. Junk, bill, plea for donation… It was not looking good that I would hear from Carter, then at last stuck to the Duke Energy power usage report was a letter from my bug.  
“I love being a CIT! I have the youngest girls and I am having a blast with this age group…. Gush, gush, gush. All good news. Then came the traditional request section. “Please send money, two of my three dresses require me to wear a cardigan, (for modesty purposes) and I want to buy one on Saturday when the CIT’s get to go shopping at Walmart.”
This being Thursday the only way I could get her money was to send it overnight. I gathered up some of the items I had collected to send in a care package and ran to the fed-ex.  
I rushed home because I still had not packed for my trip and when I got to my bedroom I felt like I was unusually hot and sweaty. Yes, I had been running around a lot, but not this much. I went to check the thermostat and discovered the temperature was 77 degrees inside. Oh no, two hours before our flight and I discover the air conditioning unit is broken.
I called the HVAC people and asked if there was any chance they could come right now and look at it. “We’ll do our best, Ma’m, but don’t expect it.” I called around looking for a teenager who could stay at my house until it was fixed. No luck, teenagers have very busy lives. I took Shay to Mary’s and she said she would be happy to stay.
When I got home the HVAC guy was working on our unit, just a clogged drain pipe. It was fixed well before we had to go. Between getting a letter from Carter that camp is going great and getting the air conditioner fixed in record time I would say this is a good day. Now we just pray the weather in Denver does not prevent us from landing.

I Measured Three Times

This morning while I was cooking dinner for an friend who had been in the hospital I turned on the kitchen TV to Rachael Ray. Normally I don’t really like to watch her show because her, “what’s for dinner tonight” segment is hardly ever anything I can or should eat for dinner and I don’t need some pasta imagery floating through my head. But today’s Rachel started with a segment called, “are you wearing the right bra size.”  
I know all the statistics about 85% of American women wearing the wrong bra size, and I even actually already knew how to measure for the perfect fit already, but I watched the show anyway. It was something to do while I made green peppercorn chicken. The “bra expert” said something that was news to me. Women need to get measured every six months because things change due to hormones, and weight changing and gravity.  
As I stood by the stove, stirring the sauce I thought, “well, I have lost 24 pounds, maybe I should remeasure.” Right there in the kitchen I pulled out the tape measure from the junk drawer and ran the tape around me at the smaller band part. “What?” That number can’t be right? I moved the tape up to the bigger part and measured that. “Yeah, five inches difference, that seems right.” Being unsure that the first number was right I got out my seamstress tape measure that must be more accurate than a kitchen tape measure, as if the inch markings could possibly vary on the two devices.
Yes, the first reading was correct. I thought my mind must be playing games on me so I went to the bedroom, abandoning the dinner cooking on the stove to look at the size tag in my bra. Sure enough i was wearing the wrong size bra. The one I wore was six inches bigger in the band than I measured and the cup size was one too small. NOOOO! I need new bras. This is not a happy day since I love the bras I have and boy are they comfortable. I guess so if they are six inches too big around. No tight squeezing, take your breath away band for me.
Now this means a I have to go and spend money on the most important item of clothing I will wear that no one will see. I liken it to waterproofing your basement. Costs a lot of money, no one will notice and you have to do it. Well, maybe wearing the right size bra is better than waterproofing. Not that I want anyone to notice.  
I’m within a pound of being at the weight I like the most, one I can maintain, I have a wardrobe for, with the exception of bras, and is healthy. I guess it is the right time to go buy new bras. Poop, the worst shopping there is. Damn that Rachel Ray, why could’ she have started her show with some giant burger so I would have been forced to turn the TV off?

Quinoa Salad

Since tomorrow is the fourth of July you might be heading out to a picnic or BBQ. Not us, we are taking Carter to camp for her summer as a CIT. Since I won’t be cooking anything tomorrow I thought I would share a good side dish with you to take to your event if not tomorrow for some other summer party.

I know that potato or macaroni salad are traditional summer sides, but they are bad ideas to take to outdoor parties. Hey, I know you might love them, but they are full of mayonnaise and even if you can afford the calories you might not want to risk the poisoning you can get if you eat mayonnaise that has turned. The rule of thumb is mayonnaise should go unrefrigerated for less than two hours and then be thrown away. That does not mean you can leave it out for an hour and put it back in the fridge and revive it. The spoiling has already started.

Since I hate to waste food, and face it a giant bowl of potato salad almost never gets eaten at one party. My suggestion is that you make this Quinoa salad that contains no mayo and is high in protein so not only will it not go bad as quickly, it is healthier the whole time

1 c. of uncooked Quinoa

2 cups of chicken or vegetable broth- or water

1/3 of an English Cucumber diced

½ red pepper diced

1/3 cup of diced red onion

30 mint leaves chopped

Giant handful of parsley minced

1T. Olive oil

2 T. red wine vinegar

3 T. lemon juice

Salt and Pepper

In a saucepan on high heat put the Quinoa and the broth and cover and bring to a boil. Reduce to simmer for about 20 minutes until all the water is absorbed. Let the quinoa cool a little and then transfer to a bowl. Add the oil, vinegar and lemon juice and stir and out it in the refrigerator.

When the grain is completely cool add the vegetables and the herbs. You can change up what I suggested and add chopped tomatoes, zucchini, fennel, basil, cilantro – the possibilities are endless. It is a great way to use up small amounts of veggies.

Have a Happy July 4^th and don’t eat any warm mayonnaise side dishes.

Vacation Non-Weight Loss

Despite staying on my diet vigilantly during my boat vacation I did not lose a pound, which made me furious. I brought my vita mix, made my protein drinks everyday, ate only protein and green veggies with one tiny bit of fruit a day and nothing! My counselor is imploring me to stick with this program and I am, but I am not going to be so strict during my vacations because there is no reason to not enjoy my trips and not lose weight at the same time.
There is all the time in the world to lose weight, but only some time to have a good holiday. I am not planning on going hog wild on my summer vacations. That plan did not work in Italy, but I am certainly not going to go to the same feats I went to in Beaufort.  
Being good and not losing weight is by far more frustrating than just eating a healthy diet and if I gain one pound so be it. I am so close to my goal weight that there is no sense of urgency. I lose weight for myself so if I want to take a break from someone else’s program that is my choice, especially if their program is not doing what I want.
I have a couple weeks until my next vacation. Let’s see what happens being strict at home, maybe I can reach my goal before then and this will all be a moot point. Oh, weight control is a life’s work.   

Great Week, Great Boat, Great Vacation

   
   As the sun sets over Taylor’s Creek I lie down on the cushions of the top deck to write my last blog from the Everest. We have had an adventure filled week here in Beaufort. Kelly and Dan who run and own this fabulous boat could not have been nicer. Our only freak hiccup of a clamp breaking allowing water into the boat was resolved quickly and Kelly more than made up for something no one could predict.  
As part of her heartfelt apology she and Dan took us out on a cruise today which normally would have been a charge, but was free for us. Carter and Ashley rode most of the time on “the bunny” the aptly named sun bathing beds on the bow of the boat reserved for the girls to ride on.  
While we have been docked we have enjoyed the calmness of the creek, the wild ponies grazing just across the way on Carrot Island, swimming off the back of the boat, Carter and I floating in the water on our backs hand-in-hand “like otters,” shopping in the cute Beaufort stores that have different things than mall stores, eating yummy dinners at restaurants which meant no cooking for Mom, our best meal was at Beaufort Grocery Co. followed by the Cedars Inn, sun bathing on the comfortable cushioned decks, reading great books, waving at passing boaters, sleeping late in our comfy state rooms, and laughing, laughing, laughing.
Our one adventure away from Beaufort to the Aquarium in Pine Knoll Shores, only made us more certain that staying on the Everest in Beaufort was the best place we saw. It was peaceful and not crowded with children kicking sand near us, no sharks were spotted, all our limbs stayed intact, there were no drunk, fat, heavily tattooed men talking loudly anywhere near us, we did not have a house party of college bound kids across the street from us playing music into the middle of the night and getting in raucous fights, and we never smelled a paper mill or fish cannery.
It made for fun for us all to have Ashley with us. I am hoping she is available for future vacations. The only sad part is that Russ only got 36 hours of vacation, but I have to say they were pretty idyllic.
So goodbye to the Everest and to Beaufort. I hope we can come back. But there are new adventures yet to be had this summer. I hope they are all as good as this one.

Small World Benefits

   
     I have written in the past about the chance small world meetings that usually take place when we are on vacation and this one is no different. When we checked in with the owner of our boat, Kelly, the first day we got here she got to talking to Carter and Ashley, my bonus vacation daughter about school. Kelly teaches chemistry at a local college and she remarked to Ashley that the best student she ever had was a Korean girl the first year she was a professor.
Last night when we went to dinner in tiny Beaufort Ashley, ran into a woman she knew. Her name is Joanne and her brother is Ashley’s father’s best friend. Joanne works at the NC aquarium in Pine Knolls Shores and told us to come see her at the aquarium. She asked where we were staying and we told her the name of the boat and she said, “Oh, Dan and Kelly’s boat. They are some of my best friends.”
Today, Dan and Kelly stopped by the boat and we told them about Ashley running into Joanne and what a small world it was. Kelly made it even smaller when she said, “Joanne is my best student I was telling you about on Monday.” Well with all these connections the girls and I decided we absolutely had to go to the aquarium today. So after a fun morning with Russ kayaking, when he left for the airport off we went.
Joanne greeted us at the entrance and took us first to the ray tank where she had to feed them by hand and then behind the scenes where we got to see all the inner workings of the aquarium. We got to hold a baby alligator, and feed the shark, grouper and big fish tank chopped up sardines and shrimp. We met baby sea turtles and learned how they went from tiny hatchlings to year old turtles about to be released back into the sea. It was a fantastic experience that happened by chance.
Now after dinner I sit atop the roof deck of our beautiful boat and enjoy the sunset and wonder what exciting things and chance meetings will happen tomorrow. I love vacation.

Listing is Not Good, Right?

Sometimes going against your regular grain is good and you just don’t know why until later. Yesterday before we arrived at the boat we are renting for the week the owner asked us which staterooms to make up for Carter and Ashley. Having never seen the choices they chose two rooms, but when we got here and they saw all the choices they wanted to switch. I felt badly that the clean, pressed sheets where already on different beds and my first reaction was to say no,but the owner said she had other sheets. As a compromise I told the girls they could sleep in the big aft stateroom they liked best if they made the bed themselves. This turned out to be a fortuitous move.
Last night I settled into the master stateroom in the fore, closing the porthole covers in hopes of getting to sleep in a little since Russ was not arriving until after 9:30 this morning. I was awoken by a loud knocking on my door so early that I was still in that part of sleep where you don’t know if you are dreaming or are awake.  
“Mom, mom there is a lot of water in our room,” Carter was telling me.  
“What? What time is it?” Why I needed to know the time, I will not understand, except it was just a stall tactic until I could get my bearings.
“It’s 5:30.”
I jumped out of bed and realized the boat was badly listing to the stern, you know boat lingo for to the right. I am not really a fan of leaning to the right especially when it means we are taking on water.
I ran up my stairs and back down to Carter’s stairs and before I even got down two steps I could see inches of water.  
“Pack up all your stuff and bring it upstairs, I’m calling the owner.”
It’s never good news to have to wake someone at 5:30, but the one thing I know, there is no reason to be polite and wait until a decent hour when their boat is sinking.
It took only moments for her to arrive and soon followed experts who first were able to get the water pumped out and find the broken clamp that had allowed the water to come in in the first place. Carter, Ashley and I sat on the aft deck enjoying the sunrise and early morning hours in a way we would have never done had we slept the morning away.
While I was in the galley getting myself some iced tea I thankfully had made the day before, since our water was now turned off, the owner said to Carter that we might need to go to a hotel. This caused tears and sadness for the vacation she had looked so forward too. When I came back out and heard this I said we were not making any decisions at 7:30 in the morning. I was also not going to call Russ who was on the road from Durham for his one day vacation because I was holding out faith that all would be fine.
Russ arrived around 10 just as the issue was getting fixed. Our day of sun on the water was salvaged. If it weren’t for Carter and Ashley sleeping in that aft stateroom and Carter waking up at 5:30 to use the head it could have been a much different story. Four more hours going unnoticed would have made a big difference. Thank goodness I was not my normal harass self yesterday and indulged my girls, it saved us.

Destination Everest

A few months ago Russ was pursuing AirBnB just to see what all the hubbub was about. There is no person on earth who would dislike staying in someone’s house while they were home more than Russ Lange, so I thought it was an interesting exercise. As he flipped through listings I paid little attention to him since I’m sure I was busy stitching some untimely Christmas ornament. That was until he came upon an 80 foot yacht mored in Beaufort, NC.
“Boats, you can stay on a boat?” I asked. Russ showed me the picture. Hmmm… “Is it renting a sofa on someone’s boat to sleep on?” Apparently you can rent whole boats by the night. So we decided what the hell, let’s try it.
Russ did all the planning, the contacting, the paying, the communications, instruction getting, everything. I was just going to be the girl on the boat. Carter invited her friend Ashley to come and be one of the girls on the boat. We were set. As the weeks passed we all got more and more excited. Carter studied the website, planning her jump from the aft deck into the river in the videos.
Then this week Russ came home from work with the bad news that he had two work conflicts and was not going to be able to spend the whole week on the boat. OH NO! This was his plan, his trip. So today Carter, Ashley and I set off without him. We arrived too early so we were forced to shop in the very cute Beaufort shops while we waited for the appointed time to be given our yacht. At last it came.
It was bigger than I imagined. Soon us three girls were in our bathing suits jumping off the back of the boat and floating in the salty river as much smaller vessels putted by us. The serenity of Carrot Island, an island inhabitant only by a heard of wild horses, is our view across the river. We were in heaven as Ashley thanked us over and over again for bringing her.  
I was just sad that Russ was missing the trip he had planned so meticulously. As I sit on the upper deck writing this in the dark night with a cool breeze blowing slowly by me I pray that tomorrow brings good weather and Russ to get a chance to spend his 24 hours in paradise.  

Deered Off

I am not running a drive thru for deer in search of a happy meal. So if you happen to be driving, walking or biking by my house and see any Bambie family members hanging around looking for the squawk box to place their orders for tomato plants, green bean bushes or sweet potato vines you make sure to let them know that I have been closed down by the hoofed animal fast food council. Not that anyone can prove I have poisonous plants waiting to be scarfed down by those poor unassuming animals, but I would like the deer to think that.
Now if you are planning a visit to my house please text me when you get to the driveway. I will be happy to open the garage door and let you in that way. If you venture to my front door you might pass out from the aroma of Deer Off that is wafting about what is left of my summer flowering pots.
I know that the lack of rain has left few thirst quenching plants for the deer to eat, but how in the world are they finding the only things I am watering. I came out of the garage on Monday and noticed that my tomato plants that just the night before had held hundreds of green tomatoes on healthy vines had been striped to a third their size with many bits of green fruit let on the ground with one small bite in each. Dumb ass animals don’t even learn that if they don’t like the first green tomato they are not going to like the 55th. 
I know I need a twelve foot high fence to really protect my vegetable garden, but I just don’t like the fortress look. I complain every year about the deer, but somehow they are still here. I’m shocked the famous Hope Valley coyote has not taken down a doe or two. What do I have to do to encourage that to happen.  
If you are a major deer fan I am happy for you to contribute new plants, fully grown and ready to bear fruit to me so I can keep feeding the deer. For the time being I am going to have to keep offending the UPS, FedEx and Mailmen bearing packages with the offending smell of deer retardant. I’m sure that when I come back from vacation I won’t have a plant left between the drought and the deer I guess it’s time to put in a Japanese rock garden.    

Tragic Loss

At nine last night Carter comes into the kitchen from her room with a glazed look in her eyes and says, “A girl died at Camp today.” Camp for Carter is the place in the mountains of North Carolina that she affectionate calls “home.” It is her favorite place on earth, where she pines to be all years, waiting for summer like a three-year-old waits for Santa.
Carter is going to be a CIT at camp during the coed session that starts in July, but she spent many years going to the girls session and has lots of friends there now. That’s how she heard. A tragic zip line accident and a poor family who entrusted their sweet angel to a wonderful camp lost her. For the poor staff and counsellors it is the worst thing that can happen.  
There are risks in everything in life. I read a posting on Facebook yesterday from a friend whose son almost drown in a pool with life guards as she turned for just a second to get something. Thank goodness she turned around just in time to notice his lips below the water and the look of panic in his face. That story ended happily, but not without perhaps taking some days off that mother’s life.
I am so sad for Carter, who has lost two other friends this year. It seems like more than a teenager should have to deal with. I pray this tragic loss does not color the magic that happens at camp. There is an innocence about summer at camp with the games, songs, and friends. The real world did not exist in an electronic free environment.  
Please pray for the family who will not feel the same way about camp. Pray for the people who were there and will forever have that picture with them. Pray for the staff and counsellors who take the responsibility of caring for our children very seriously. Pray for the cabin and camp mates of the girl who was lost. Pray for all the campers to come that they will have the same wonderful life changing experiences at camp that Carter has had.

Are Airlines Crazy?

Today at Mah Jongg my friend Katina asked if we had heard about the new airline carry on regulations? What? When I got in the car NPR was playing a story about the airline fiasco. Apparently European airlines are reducing the size of carry on bags that are allowed to a size that does not actually exist in the luggage universe. Half an inch length , half and inch less in width and like five inches less in depth to a seven inch high bag.
The airlines are trying to maximize revenues by forcing everyone, but Barbies to have to check their bags or go naked when they are on vacation. It seems to me that the European airlines that are in collision to all do this at the same time as well as with the luggage manufactures who are going to be able to sell us all new luggage and the nude vacation sights.
So far the American Airlines have not answered if they area going to follow suit,but you know the worst amount our carriers are thinking about. Actually I bet Spirit Airlines already charges for carry-ons as well as toilet paper.
I am putting out a plea to all good U.S. airlines to set themselves apart and not screw over the flying population and reduce the size of carry-ons. I can’t imagine going back to handing over my bag to people who can’t possibly care enough about my stuff as I do. The airlines who do not reduce the carry-on size will be the ones I will try and patronize forever and ever.
Maybe this is a new diet incentive that the only way you can fit your clothes into tiny carry on bags is to become a size zero. Since that is never happening for me I might have to start wearing all my clothes on my body when I get on a plane and just use my miniature carry-on bag for my tiny travel size tooth paste and lotion.  
Please just raise the prices of tickets a few Euros and just let us carry our stuff on. I know they are justifying this move by saying this way there will be more overhead room for everyone, but if they just enforced the rules they already have their would be enough room. I have literally been on flight from Miami to Puerto Rico where one person brought a kitchen sink on and put it in the overhead bin, taking up the whole bin.
I guess it’s time to learn to fly. Who wants to go in on a plane with me?

Use Your Spices

The other day at lunch a friend of mine asked me how long her spices would last. Nobody at the table liked my answer which got me thinking that even some of the best cooks I know are using old spices. Here are the guidelines for how long spices are really best; 4 years for whole spices, like whole cloves or fennel seeds, 2-3 years for ground spices, like cinnamon and cayenne pepper and only 1-3 years for dried spices like basil and oregano.  
Now before you go throwing away your whole spice drawer open a bottle and take a whiff, not too big if it is red pepper. If it has a strong defined smell it is probably ok, but as the spices age you may have to add more to get the taste and it still won’t be as good as fresh spices.
My friend Stephanie, who grew up in Baltimore where McCormack spice company started, said they ran a campaign a few years ago saying, “If your spice bottle has a Baltimore address on the back and not Hunt Valley, Maryland, throw it out, it is over 20 years old.” Despite have a corporate headquarters in Baltimore, Hunt Valley has been the packaging location for over 20 years.
Rather than thinking of your spices as some precious exotic item to be used sparingly start using the ones you have until you use them up. I dry pan seared some okra tonight and dosed it heavily in coriander, which gave it a bright citrus flavor. Add some spices to you bottled salad dressing, if you use that, or make a fresh salad dressing by throwing in a bunch of different spices, like basil, garlic and ginger with your oil and vinegar.  
Just be careful not to add too much at first. To this day I hate dill because someone in my house used to add much too much of it to potato or chicken salads. A little dill goes a long way.
If you are an infrequent cook and don’t have any idea how old your spices are start writing the date on the bottle the next time you open something new. In two years any bottle of a dried or ground spice without a date can get thrown away and you will only replace them as a recipe calls for them.
One great way to use up things like nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice and cloves is to make a spice cake. Just don’t share it with me, because it is a favorite of mine and can’t only eat one bite!
This message was not brought to you by the spice manufactures of the world, but for full disclosure my Grandfather used to own a spice company called Try Me Spices, so encouraging you to use your spices might be in my blood.

Half Way Through Upper School

Summer officially started for Carter today since she had her last exam as a sophomore yesterday. As a parent it is almost as exciting to not to have to think about school as it is for the child. Being half way through high school is hard for me to comprehend especially since I feel like I was just half way through yesterday.

As I think back to myself at Carter’s age I realize that I did not really begin to find my voice until well into my junior year. There is so much pressure on kids today to invent fabulous new technology or be a world-class athlete or save an endangered species all before they get to Upper school, but in reality most people are just not fully developed yet.

Learning what you like in the world and how you might fit in is a long process that should involve some stumbles along the way. I certainly was no star at anything at the end of my sophomore year at Ethel Walkers. I was just trying to keep my head above water while not falling into some hole at the same time. One of the hardest parts was learning to deal with people who were equally as undeveloped.

For Carter I look forward to her having a successful summer as a CIT at Camp Cheerio. It is a great chance to try out new leadership skills while being at her favorite place on earth, after London and Rome, oh and Paris. But Cheerio is the place her heart is happy and the stress level is low, low, low and friends are supportive.

Discovering all that you are takes time so, Carter, keep exploring and being curious and trying new things, especially if they are hard. It’s Ok not to know exactly all that you are going to be at just 16. How boring life would be if you did. At sixteen no one would have bet that I could write a lick, I had never left the country, I did not know that my true passion was to help hungry people, I don’t think I knew any hungry people, I also was probably not even that funny. What I did know is that good friends are worth investing in and that cooking was a useful skill.

So cheers to a good summer. Rejuvenate, rest and relax. Mostly explore and expand your understanding of your true self. It is a self that has lots of time to unfold.