The Jacket

This has been in drafts a while and it's certainly longer than 55 words and maybe a little circuitous for Da Count, but it's what I am counting today...


I was about 13 and had been going through that awful growth spurt that leaves you all arms and legs and not knowing how to work this suddenly gangly body, in addition to the curves that in very early adolescence began to burst out all over the place. My mother worked in a horrid little garment factory for a man who regularly cheated her out of wages. She could barely afford to keep me in clothes because I was growing so fast. It was an unseasonably cold late October and I had no winter coat.

My paternal grandmother, Mom-mom, worked at a women's clothing store on the main street shopping district of the next town over from us. It was a small, family-owned shop that had been dying a slow death as its owner, his employees, and the customers aged and the new mall sucked new shoppers away from the downtown. The owner was Mr. Reuben, a short, smiling man who used to speak Hebrew blessings over my brother and me when we came to visit my grandmother at work.

We stopped by to see Mom-mom during some sort of errand one blustery day. Mr. Reuben welcomed us as always while my mother and grandmother exchanged pleasantries. I wandered around the store passing through the racks of rather matronly fashions and then spied a rack of coats. They were nice coats that looked like something a person my age would actually wear. The plaid wool coat with a thick fleecy lining and hood that zippered open to lay flat against your back was so pretty and warm looking. I was excited and quickly looked at the price tag. Fifty dollars! Oh my word! I knew darned well there was no way on God's green earth my mother could afford a fifty dollar coat. I dropped the sleeve of the coat and quickly turned away from it to see Mr. Reuben smiling.

He urged, "Try it on, honey. See how it fits."

"It's $50. It's too much, Mr. Reuben."

"Nonsense!" he retorted.

I looked at my mom who agreed she didn't have that kind of money. By now Mr. Reuben had pulled the coat off the hanger and was draping it over my shoulders. "Slide your arms down the sleeves, sweetheart. You can try it on and not buy it. Just see if it fits." My mother scowled. My grandmother seemed to exchange a knowing glance with Mr. Reuben as I felt the warm coat wrap around me. Mr. Reuben spun me to face the mirror and asked me what I thought. I really did like the coat and it fit nicely but I knew there was no use since we couldn't buy it so I stood there stammering non-commitally. He interjected, "It fits, the color looks good on you. Does it feel nice and warm?" I said it did. "The coat is yours, honey. You take it." Turning to my mother he said, "Don't you worry about paying for it. She needs a good coat and it is nice on her."

I was stunned by what I considered extravagant generosity and was excited to think this lovely coat could possibly be mine. My mother's face remained stony and she quietly thanked him for the offer but stated she did not care for charity. A lesser man than Mr. Reuben might have taken her response as a slap in the face. He just smiled warmly and said, "Well, I never gave her a gift when she was born and she just had a birthday. So I am giving it to her now. It's not charity. It's a gift. Take the coat."

So, my dear child, this is why I have such a low threshold of tolerance when you whine about being required to select a second coat that will do a better job of keeping you warm when the snow flies after I've already bought you the stylish froufrou coat for autumn.

I'm counting the kindness all those years ago, and that I can properly clothe my own kids today.

Weird Wednesday-Deer Season Edition

Some of you may know that Monday started deer hunting season here in Pennsylvania. This is a big deal at House of Lime since we fill our freezer with venison and I never buy beef. This hunting season has dropped a wonderful little nugget of weirdness into my lap and I just had to share it with you all.

Over the years Mr. Lime has accumulated a few handy gadgets to make staying warm, field dressing a deer, and dragging its carcass a little easier. This year he came home with his latest labor saving find. Care to guess what it is used for?

Here is a diagram demonstrating its use.

That's right folks, it's the Butt-Out Tool! As the product description at the website says,

One of the more unpleasant chores of field dressing now takes just seconds to accomplish using the innovative Butt-Out Tool. This tool is the fastest, easiest way to disconnect the anal alimentary canal from deer or similar-sized game. Immediately after harvesting game, insert the Butt-Out Tool into the anal canal and twist until it grabs the membrane. Continue twisting another half turn, then steadily pull the Butt-Out Tool out of the canal. Extract 10" of membrane, tie the membrane off and cut. Its time-saving ease of use makes this the tool every deer hunter needs in his pack.

Go ahead and click the link for some fabulous testimonials on this handy little gadget! Now, I know all you anti-hunting types are in horror that we hunt at all. All the rest of you are probably now gagging on your breakfast. Thus far none of the three hunters at House of Lime has brought home meat to feed us this year. Somehow I think the deer got wind of this new gadget. In spite of the instinctive behavior of whitetail deer to lift their tails in warning to the rest of the herd I imagine them all bounding away with tails tucked and hindquarters clenched tightly.

PA German Tuesday- Sum Dutchified Inklish

I know Susie has been anxiously awaiting some funny words and I aim to please. before we get to the brief listing of some of my favorite terms I want to make something very clear. There are those who would assert that PA German is not truly a dialect, that it is merely a local mangling of standard English. I beg to differ. The local vernacular would be considered Dutchified English. That's not a technical term used by linguists as far as I know, but I think most locals would agree on the usage. True Pennsylvania German is a dialect entirely separate from English. It has it's own vocabulary and grammar rules. My own stepfather spoke only this dialect until he went to school. Though it is nearly impossible to find anyone under the age of 50 outside the Amish and Mennonite communities who speaks the dialect anymore there has been an effort at cultural preservation. Kutztown University of PA now offers a minor in PA German studies which includes dialect classes as well as history.

Ok, onto the fun words. Today I will just start with some of my favorite terms that I grew up hearing or still use myself. I will be using mostly phonetic spellings to try to get across the way a PA German accent sounds. I'll take some from Gary Gates' books How to Speak Dutchified English, vol 1 & 2, some from A. Monroe Aurand, Jr's Quaint Idioms and Expressions of the Pennsylvania Germans, and some from my own head.

All: finished, all gone. Can I have another piece of butter bread? No, the bread's all.

Butter bread: You never have your evening meal that bread is not on the table and bread must be buttered.

Dippy Eck: eggs sunny side up, so you can dip your toast in the yolk.

Doppick: Gates says this means dumb but when I was growing up it was used as a reference to clumsiness. I never saw sooch a doppick chilt as you!

Ferhoodled: Confused, mixed up. Vell naw, did Pappy say to come ofer on Mondee or Tuesdee? I cain't remember, I'm all ferhoodled.

Filling: What most folks call stuffing, even though a proper potato filling doesn't get stuffed into a bird but baked in a casserole. I had a very difficult time with Isaac on Thanksgiving since he insisted on calling the potato filling 'stuffing.' It ain't right, I tell you. The boy is ferikked!

Ferikked: deranged, sick in the head.

For so: just for fun. Is that new dress for a special occasion? No, it's chust for so.

Hinnerdale: hindquarters, backside. He'll get a paddling on his hinnerdale if he doesn't behafe!

Get awt (out): an expression of surprise. The dress was on sale. I only paid $20 for it. Get awt!

Grex: complain, whine, moan. Grexy is also used to describe fussy babies. Naw sit dawn and do your lessons (homework) and don't grex so.

Nix Nootz: mischeivous person. That little boy is such a nix nootz!

Outten: turn off. Outten the lights. It's time for bed.

Rhett beat ex: no this is not about Scarlett O'Hara getting her due. It's a popular recipe for eggs pickled in vinegar with red beets.

Rutch (vowel sound rhymes with that of 'foot'): squirmy, unsettled. Would you stop rutching around so!

Shnoop-dook (again, rhymes with foot): handkerchief. More or less translates as nose wipe.

Schmutz (same rhyme as above two): can mean to gunk up or to kiss. Schmutz up the axle with some grease but go wash up before you try to give me a schmutz.

Stroobly: messy, unkempt hair but really no decent English equivalent becasue it goes beyond bedhead. Such a stoobly mess! Have you ever met a comb?

Vendue (more often pronounced with an initial F sound): public sale or auction, farmer's market. Will I see you at the vendue on friday?

Dutchmen may not always speak properly and as such the term 'dumb Dutchman' is commonly heard. Most folks who hear a thick accent unfairly assume a person is lacking in intellect and education. For this reason my parents were quite strict about the language my brother and I used. No child of theirs was going to be called a dumb Dutchman. That said, here's a little joke about the situation. It illustrates several PA German values actually.

A dutchman farmer scrimped and saved to send his only child, a daughter, to Kutztown College. So after graduating high school off she goes. During her first semester she enjoys the party life a bit too much and comes to make a decision she regrets. At Christmas break she comes home and tells her father,

"Daddy, I have bad news. I'm sorry. I ain't a wirgin (virgin) anymore. Please forgive me."

He hollers, "Vot (what) dit choo say?!"

"I ain't a wirgin anymore, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Vell, I cain't belief such a sing (thing)! This is crazy! I'm just feraikled (disgusted) by this whole sing!"

"Daddy, I know I brought shame on you since I ain't a wirgin and I'm sorry."

"I don't care you're not a wirgin, girl! I cain't belief I spend good money to send you to Kutztown and you STILL say 'ain't'!"

New and Improved Interview: Now with Fruit Flavor!

Boysenberry sent me some interview questions after he was interviewed and it just doesn't get much fruitier than a Boysenberry interviewing a Lime, unless maybe we throw a Kiwi into the mix. In any event, here are the questions and answers.


1. I know that you're a proud Trini, but is there anything about Trinidad that could stop you from going back there?

Well, actually I am only a Trini at heart, but my Trini friends tell me that is sufficient. Much as I love Trinidad and her people and culture I have to say the rising crime rate is a bit of a deterrent to my return. I understand things have gotten worse and worse since we have left. Being a white American increases my chances of being targeted for crime. There is definitely a dark side and it would be foolish of me to think I am not vulnerable. I've visited several times in the last 12 years but if anything would keep me from Trinidad, aside from the price of a plane ticket, it would be the crime.


2. If you had to sell Pennsylvania to an outsider, where would you start and why?

Well, for ages I have actually had a post in drafts titled "My 10 Favorite Things About my State." Before I get to that let me say I am going to be really selective about who I sell my state to. Where I live has seen a massive influx of city commuters. Many who have moved here have really gotten involved in the local community in a positive way and have been a true asset. They've gained an appreciation for what makes our area beautiful and special and they want everyone to enjoy that without destroying it in the process. Many more have merely brought all the urban blight they sought to escape riding in on their shoulders and dumped it in our backyard. Then they complain about the lack of infrastructure and amenities in their distinctively demanding 5 boroughs manner. I will welcome all the people who want to be a part of a community that has trees and open spaces and who want to work toward genuine solutions to honest problems (I do not believe the lack of a Starbucks on every corner is a genuine problem.) The demanding, carping set of malcontents in the second group can go right back where they came from.

Stepping off the soapbox. Ok, so if you want to be a Pennsylvanian in the best sense of the word I'm going to sell you on the natural beauty of the place for starters. We've got gently rising mountains that folks from Vermont and the West coast may laugh at but which I find comforting and peaceful. Our name means Penn's Woods, after the founder of our state and our thick forests. If you read my post on 'The Woods' you know what the forest does for me. I have really enjoyed sharing a hike in the woods with visitors from other places. I also think the rolling farmland all over the state is just about one of the most beautiful things. Old stone farmhouses and bank barns with hex signs affixed and silos rising next to them are part of what makes this state 'home' to me. I think I'd also be selling you on the history. From Philadelphia as a cradle of liberty to central PA's agriculture to Pittsburgh's place in industrial history we've contributed greatly enough to the founding and growth of our nation to be given the nickname 'the Keystone State.' (Gees, why does that sound like something straight out of a tourist board advertisement? Yeesh, they ought to pay me.)




3. Looking back at your life, what would you say was a true turning point? How so, and in a good or bad way?

Hhhmm, hopefully this come across correctly and not as a pining away for something that has passed...Moving to Trinidad was, at the time, a major turning point because I figured we would be raising our family overseas. I never envisioned myself as being a middle class American housewife complete with minivan. I signed my name on the dotted line to go do something different and make a difference away from the bureaucracy of the American school system (Mr. Lime and I are both certified Special Education teachers). We sold off probably half of what we owned at the time, maybe more, shipped a bunch down, put a little bit in storage and off we went. I endured the mystified grief of my family for my eagerness to leave and take the first born grandchild away. Once in Trinidad, I became a student of the culture in every way I could. I threw myself enthusiastically into learning Trinidad and functioning well within that culture. I held back nothing because I figured I was going to be there for many years, and if not there, somewhere else that was not the USA.

It was a complete mind bender to go through all that and only a year later have no choice but to return to the USA due to severe administrative problems. Readjusting to my home culture was far more difficult than adjusting to a new culture in the first place. Dealing with the people who wanted us to fail and their glee that we had was spirit crushing. As hard as that was I was still certain I'd not be staying long in the USA...until Mr. Lime looked me in the eye and said he had no intention of ever leaving American soil again for more than tourist purposes. That was quite the shovel to the forehead. It meant reorienting my thinking about EVERYTHING and every goal I ever had for the sake of marital harmony and not living in bitterness. Yeah, that was a turning point. It doesn't keep me awake at night anymore, hasn't for many years, but now and again...I do wonder what life would have been. Good and bad comes of every turning point, that's all I'm gonna say on that.

4. Where do you see the Limes being in 2020?

Wow, that's a good question. It will be a little more than 12 years from now and that means, barring disaster, all three Limelets will have graduated from both high school and college. If Diana's goals are seen to fruition she will be in a Third World nation somewhere working as a nurse. Calypso and Isaac have made no real indication of what they want to do with their lives but hopefully by then they will have settled on that and will be doing something that contributes meaningfully to the world and gives them joy to do. Mr. Lime and I will both be in our 50s...gees, I am already unhappy at next year being the big 4-0 and you're rushing me to past 50! Hhhmm, what will the two of us be doing? Hopefully, we won't be those empty nesters who stare at each other wondering who the hell that stranger across the dinner table is.


5. What skill or talent would you like to master that you don't already have?

I truly wish I had some skill as a musician. I will never be a singer because my voice is about as melodious as a cat fight. I do wish I could actually play the guitar I own. Since I mangled my arm I can't play it in the proper position anymore. Yes, Keyser, I know I need to practice those other techniques we talked about. I more or less have to start from scratch because I had only taken lessons for about a year and a half before my accident and I forget most of what I learned. I've got some hang-ups about starting over. Yeah, I need to get over that.


I would also very much love to develop some other artistic skills, take a drawing, pottery, or photography class. I have a need to create. I do so in other ways but there are so many ways I still want to explore. I also have a real fascination with dying arts like spinning and weaving, and Pennsylvania Dutch arts and crafts. I'd love to brush up my Spanish and French and be much more conversant in those languages as well as learn Greek. Long enough list to keep my busy huh? And that's just the stuff off the top of my head.

That's all for this round folks. If anyone wants to be interviewed just say so in the comments and I'll generate some questions for you.

Happy Thanksgiving

We all have much to be thankful for. I wish you all happiness today and hope that amid the food fest and football we all can take time to reflect on how blessed we each are. The video below is food for thought..

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

As Requested

After Friday's post on family recipes I got several requests for some of them to be posted. One of them is a recipe for Graham Cracker Pie. Lemme tell ya, this stuff is goooooood. It's my 85 year old great aunt's recipe and I don't know where she got it from. When I asked her for the recipe she sent me a 3 page letter detailing the instructions, which I will now share with you because it certainly shows personality along with the recipe. My commentary is in parenthesis.

Dear Michelle,

Sometimes it takes me a little long to get things done. (Not because she is in frail or declining health mind you, but because she is so busy running circles around the rest of the world) So sorry I haven't gotten this off before.

When you make the pie you can buy the regular graham cracker pie shell. The filling will fit in it. I like to make my own. (So do I)

Making your own crust you need a 10"-2" deep pie plate. Butter your plate before putting in the crumbs & shape them into a crust. Save 1/2 cup for sprinkling on top of pie.

One time I gave the recipe to a lady and she took whole crackers & laid them in the pie plate. She wasn't too swift. (I would tend to agree)

Take 1 1/2 packs of graham crackers & crush them. About 13 crackers. Then go with the recipe.

Note.
When I make my filling I stir it all the while it is cooking. Make sure the pudding is not too runny thin. It should have a firm feeling. The filling can be quite tricky to make. If you have a double boiler use it. I don't have one the size I need. (Hey, if she can do without so can I.)

Have a bowl ready for your egg whites. Place in the frig until you are ready for them. Put your eggs & pudding mix right into the boiler you are going to use.

Make cook pudding, then put it in pie shell.

Make meringue. Put it on top of pie. Place leftover graham crackers (Crushed up into crumbs, not whole ones. You don't want my aunt thinking you aren't too swift.) on top of meringue.

Put back into oven 350F for 10 minutes. You are done.

Have a good pie. (Mmmmm, thanks, I will!)

It seems like it is a big deal but it really isn't. I am trying to give you all the tips that I can.

I hope I haven't confused you but these tips are important.

Love,
Aunt B

Crush graham crackers
add
1/2 cup melted butter
1/2 cup G. sugar
mix together and place in pie plate.
bake at 350F-10 mins



Filling
4 egg yolks
5 Tablespoon sugar
3 heaping Tb cornstarch
1/4 tsp. salt
1 qt. sweet milk (this just means fresh milk, as opposed to sour milk)
1 ts. vanilla, after cooked
cook & when done fill pie shell



Make Meringue
4 egg whites
1/2 tsp. baking powder
4 tbs sugar
place on pie
add remaining crumbs & bake at 350F-10 mins
all done, enjoy






Go ahead, be brave. Give it a try. I'm telling ya, it's good stuff.

Not exactly what I meant...

I planned to post a recipe today but yesterday we got 8 inches of snow and had a snow day. We also still had a parent teacher conference in the evening that led to a rather 'interesting' conversation.

Isaac has been having a rather frustrating year because he is basically a well-behaved and respectful kid but he has 2 extremely strict teachers who penalize students for extremely minor infractions.

During parent teacher conferences the one teacher mentioned she can't stand having disorderly lines of students (Isaac tells me they have to line up in height order and stay in perfectly straight alignment) and she gets annoyed because Isaac fiddles with his football too much on the way to and from recess (and yes, he and the football can become irritating). He finds her need for perfect lines aggravating (Who wouldn't?).

During the car ride home with Isaac and Diana, I was trying to let him know that everyone has their pet peeves in life that tend to get blown out of proportion and said,



"You each have issues that drive each other insane. Her lines make YOU crazy. Your balls make HER crazy."



A momentary silence fell over the car, followed by a snort from Diana in the backseat. Then all hell broke loose as Isaac nearly hyperventilated while laughing and I almost veered into a tree trying to regain composure.

Where No Man Has Gone Before! (at least not the smart ones)

Theresa has been blogging for a while but apparently has only recently lost her meme-virginity and in the process tagged me. Now I have done more memes than I can even remember, some of them multiple times, so I don't know if that makes me some kind of meme-whore or what but I figure ya gotta be sweet to the recently deflowered so I am going for the gusto and doing her Purse Meme.

Now, Flash is a smart fellow who says he would not dream of going into a woman's purse (hence that title up there). Smart fellow, that Flash is but I'll let the faint of heart know there is nothing really to fear here. But I darn well better not ever catch any of you gents rummaging around in my bag. I get fairly ornery about that. Even meme-whores want to be treated with respect.

So here is the current bag. I needed a new one recently and this fit the bill. I actually hate carrying a purse and now that cold weather is here and I can wear my winter coat with a millions pockets soon, I will be loading up the pockets and ditching the purse. Calypso was impressed when I picked this one. Apparently it is some trendy brand name. All I know is it was on sale for $10, not too big, and a neutral, dirt hiding color. It also didn't look like something my grandmother would carry.

Here we see the first level of purse contents. Notice the tie dyed key-ring. I didn't buy this for myself. Mr. Lime got it for me to replace the teeny leather sandal I had from Trinidad. I was very sad when it broke, boo-hoo, but the tie dyed key chain made me smile. The cellphone is very tiny because I usually have it shoved in my pocket. I like the way it vibrates It's much handier in my pocket than having to rummage around in my purse, and remember I hate carrying a purse. The wallet is also very tiny as wallets for women go...because I hate carrying a purse..so it needs to be small enough to go in a pocket on occasion. I got this one for Diana but she decided she hated it so when my old one fell apart I took it back from her.

See? Here's the falling apart wallet that needed replacing. Would I lie to you? Of course not. I do still have it to carry a myriad of other things I have not put in the new wallet. There's crap like social security cards, membership cards for 100 different savings clubs, frequent flyer punch cards, oh and these things....

Bolivian currency, ticket stubs to a soccer game in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and a federal reserve note from 1950. Doesn't everyone carry this kind of crap around with them?

Oh, and the old wallet had this old fortune from a fortune cookie in it. I got that fortune cookie when I came home from the hospital after the hand surgeon told my I might not regain full use of my left hand. In case you can't read it it says, 'Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do.' It made me smile and seemed quite appropriate so I kept it. But ok, none of this crap is actually in my purse so I have digressed quite far. I know you all are dying to get back to the actual purse contents so let us not waste another moment.

Here is the pharmacy which includes my inhaler (don't leave home without it), some leftover throat lozenges from when I was sick in October, and a travel pill bottle with Tylenol, Benadryl, and Mucinex. I didn't even know I had anything other than the inhaler until I looked. Stupid me needed my migraine meds while I was away this weekend. Was I smart enough to have those in my purse? Of course not.

Here are some truly medicinal contents. Although I admit to forgetting the Hershey bar was in there. Someone gave it to me and although Hershey's is ok it's not my favorite. that teeny square is some super dark Chocolate which is truly yummy. There is also the old dinner mint in the wrapper and the leftover 3 pieces of Orbit gum. One must have fresh breath.

These I knew I had because I can't stand to be without my sunglasses or lip balm. and since the weather is getting cold I recently tossed in the little thingy of moisturizer. I had having dry, flaky hands too. I am the moisturizer queen. No make-up for this girl but don't deprive me of moisturizer.

Here we have the artistic/MacGyver items. The pen is teeny weeny because...I hate carrying a purse....but I need one frequently like when inspiration for a Friday 55 hits me and I scribble one down one a scrap of paper and then let it sit in my purse for the next couple of months. Hence I also need to keep a couple of receipts so I have something to scribble on when the muse speaks. The coins must have fallen out of the old wallet or maybe I was too lazy to put them where they belong. With the Orbit gum and the bobby pin I could probably jerry rig a bomb or something if I had MacGyver skills. Maybe I should just try to convince you I am James Bond instead with that teeny weeny pen, which is really a camera, computer, and laser gun all in one.

Finally, (yes, I hear those of you who have not already clicked on to the next blog breathing a sigh of relief) we find the bottom of the purse remnants of garbage. candy wrappers and beads from the doohickey hanging off my purse. Or I could tell you the beads are really some more James Bond type tracking devices.

Friday 55 & Da Count-What time do we eat?

A barely decipherable scrawl skipping important information.

A yellowed and splattered index card from eons ago.

A printed, titled card with careful lists and instruction in nearly perfect handwriting.

A bundled set of painstakingly typed notes to fit in a 3x5 inch space.

A 3 page handwritten letter with explicit secrets.

Generations of family recipes.

*image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/brighterworlds/301705464/

My old recipe box was stuffed to overflowing. Although I know exactly where to find the recipes I need it was difficult for Diana and Calypso to wade through the mess. Given that they are actually showing interest in being in the kitchen now I thought perhaps I should make the recipe box more user friendly. I got a nice new keeper, which necessitated going through the old box and reorganizing things as they moved to their new home.


It was an interesting process since I discovered a few recipes I forgot I had...so ok, maybe the old box was not as workable for me as I thought. I also have a small, neatly bundled set of recipe cards from my maternal grandmother that has always been kept by itself. I have been looking through it trying to decide whether or not to integrate it with my own new file or just maintain its integrity alone.

In any event, looking through some of the old recipes that I don't even really need to reference anymore since I have made the items so many times was a walk down Memory Lane. When both sets of my grandparents had passed I inherited all the photo albums from both sides and I cherish them. I realized in sorting through recipes how much of the culinary history I had also inherited, and also how many of those recipes have never been written down but exist only in our minds. I can think of a few recipes I remember from my childhood but never learned to make that are now lost to history. I also think of certain dishes and desserts I have picked up from outside my own family but that my own kids enjoy so much now, recipes that maybe one day they or their children will refer to as a family favorite.

As Thanksgiving approaches it is time for a lot of family favorites and traditional foods. I'm counting so many yummy ones from my family.

What family recipes are you glad to have?

Guilty Pleasures

A long time ago I did this brief post where I admitted to once owning Barry Manilow records, loving a soggy bowl of Count Chocula and Frankenberry mixed, and a few other embarassing facts. I encouraged readers to share their own cringe-worthy tastes. I have recently had to admit that I have developed a taste for another activity which makes me want to hang my head in shame.

We only got cable TV last December. Prior to that we never had it, thus the limelets, and by default their parents, were spared some of the more mind-numbing things avaialable on TV. Our darling progeny were weaned on the uplifting and educational shows found on PBS.

I must admit since we've gotten cable I have become a great fan of Mythbusters and Mike Rowe's Dirty Jobs. I don't feel any shame in admitting I watch either of those shows. Mythbusters is educational as it either confirms or denies various urban myths and old wives tales. Dirty Jobs is a bit gross at times but you always learn something, sometimes you wish you hadn't but it's part of the charm. And let's face it, Mike Rowe is pretty darned funny as he verbalizes what we are all thinking about whatever vile slop he is wading through, not to mention he's not entirely unpleasant to look at even when he is covered in muck.

So what is my new guilty pleasure since acquiring cable TV? What do I watch and inwardly wince at my own bad taste? I can assure you it is none of the Disney Channel sitcoms aimed at the 8-13 year old set. Here and now I will ask to be kidnapped and reprogrammed for my own good if I EVER state a preference for one of those shows! So what is it?

Yep, I admit it. I like Spongebob Squarepants.

Now it's your turn to admit a guilty pleasure. Is it a mind rotting TV show? Kitschy decorations? Pseudo-food like Velveeta? Music by Air Supply? Out with it. Tell me your guilty pleasure.

Pennsylvania Dutch Tuesday-Historical Roots

Many people who hear the term Pennsylvania Dutch immediately jump to a few conclusions. One is that they are actually Dutch who came from the Netherlands. Another is that they are all Amish and Mennonites living without modern conveniences such as electricity. Neither assumption is true. All along there has been a distinction between the 'Plain Dutch' (Old Order Mennonites and Amish) and the 'Fancy Dutch' (Brethren, Moravians, Lutherans, Schwenkfelders, Reform Church). PA Dutch are also more accurately referred to as PA Germans since they actually migrated from the Palatine Region of Germany. The immigrants included German speaking Swiss and German speaking French Huguenots.

There are several theories as to why they were called Dutchmen. Some are related to the German term 'deutsch' being misunderstood by the local English settlers, others are related to links between the Dutch reformed and German reformed churches, others still to the patterns of migration. During the 1930s and 1940s, however, the misnomer was actively perpetuated because of the desire among those of German heritage to not be seen as Nazi sympathizers. In recent years, PA German has become the more preferred term among scholars and those seeking cultural preservation.


The Plain Dutch

Among the Plain Dutch there are 2 main religious sects, the Mennonites and the Amish, although each of those can be further broken down into a myriad of smaller sub-sects. They all share a rejection of formal liturgy and the priesthood. They are all pacifist. They also are all Anabaptists, meaning they reject infant baptism, since infants and children lack the ability to cognizantly participate, and require those being baptized to be adults who have repented of sin and made a confession of faith. They were required to be separated from evil influences. This led to a withdrawing from government and civic affairs, which were seen as having a corrupting influence due to the close ties between state churches and government. Shunning arose as a method of church discipline in obedience to biblical passages exhorting believers to have nothing to do with immoral people within the fellowship. It was also in accord to their non-violent views which were in direct contrast to the violent persecution they faced both from the Roman Catholic Church and the other Lutheran and Calvinist Protestant reformers.

The first official sect of Anabaptists were the Swiss Brethren who agreed on 7 principles known as the Schleitheim Articles in 1527. Various subgroups arose and in 1536 Menno Simmons left the Catholic priesthood in the Netherlands to become an Anabaptist. He was able to unify diverse groups of Anabaptist believers as he preached adult baptism, pacifism, separation of church and state, religious tolerance, refusal to take oaths (one's word is sufficient), and refusal to hold public office. The Netherlands granted religious freedom to all in 1577 and Anabaptists were afforded protection from persecution. In 1632 the followers of Menno Simmons met in Dordrecht and set down their beliefs in a formal confession, thus the formal beginning of the Mennonites.

In 1693 a group of Swiss Mennonites broke away from the main body believing the rest of the group had become too liberal. they were led by Jackob Amman who gave his name to the Amish. the main points of contention were over the frequency of communion, re-instituting foot-washing (which had been introduced as a formal practice by Simmons but had fallen into infrequent use), and the practice of church discipline and shunning, which Amman also felt was being applied in too lax a fashion if at all.


The Fancy Dutch

The Lutherans, Reformed church members, Moravians, Schwenkfelders, the modern Church of the Brethren, and modern Mennonite congregations all make up the rest of the PA Dutch. Some of these groups are Anabaptists, others are not. Some are pacifists, others are not. Aside from the obvious difference of using modern conveniences and dressing in modern clothes these groups were distinguished by a willingness to participate in civil life and a more evangelical and thus less isolating view of faith practices. The Moravians, in particular, established a number of missions to Native Americans in the early years of Pennsylvania. Among the Moravians and Brethren the outreach to other groups was also to be rooted in practical, merciful assistance to those in need rather than solely concerning themselves with conversions.


Why Pennsylvania?

Although New England had been an early destination for settlers seeking religious freedom it was dominated by Puritan thought which had little tolerance for dissenting religious views. William Penn, who had become a Quaker in his native England and suffered imprisonment for his beliefs, petitioned King Charles II for a charter to establish a colony in the New World. His request was granted. Penn's guarantees of religious tolerance and no military conscriptions not only gave his own Quakers the peace they sought but was a welcome haven for a wide variety of persecuted groups, among them the Amish, Mennonites, and other German settlers we know today as the PA Dutch.

I commend anyone who made it to the end of my social studies report and I promise next week will be more lighthearted, mostly likely some fun PA Dutch words. So fear not, my exploration of heritage will not always be so dry. It's just my nerdy side coming out today as I give you all some important background.


Sources:
http://www.religioustolerance.org/amish1.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pennsylvania_German_language
http://www.quaker.org/wmpenn.html

Night of the Band Geeks 2007

Two years ago I posted about the USSBA Championships that takes place at Giants Stadium and our little band's experience there. Last year we didn't go but this past weekend we performed again. Once again we only went as an exhibition band that marches at the end of a group of bands during the final tabulation of results. Fortunately, this time around we marched at the more sensible dinner hour as opposed to the wee hours of the morning.

It was funny to listen to the kids on the buses as we neared the stadium. Several of the new band members who haven't done this before were beginning to have the nerves hit and the 'old-timers' were trying to play it cool. I'm not sure it the cases of jitters were helped or exacerbated by us driving around and around Giants Stadium trying to find the entrance. It was not unlike the Griswold's visit to Big Ben in National Lampoon's European Vacation. "Look kids! There's Giants Stadium! Look! There it is again! Hey wow! Here comes Giants Stadium once more!"

We finally found our way in and got parked. The competition goes on for 2 full days. Hundreds of bands come over the course of the competition. It's quite interesting to see the differences as some of them pull into the parking lot in the most ramshackle looking vehicles and others roll in on sleek, personalized buses and equipment trucks. I think we leaned a bit more toward the ramshackle end of things but we looked sharp enough when we lined up.

I also have to say some of the uniforms, band fronts in particular, are seriously weird. One band marched in all wearing identical sunglasses, trench coats, and bobbed black wigs. The band front carried briefcases and the performance was a very strange homage to the Matrix films. Other band fronts looked like they had run through a spandex factory and grabbed whatever remnants they could to safety pin together for makeshift costumes. Those poor girls also looked like they were going to freeze their butts too because it was COLD!

As I said, our band doesn't compete. We are more or less like the rodeo clowns who come out after the really tough cowboys take their beatings. We whip the crowd up into a frenzy of fun and have a ball doing it. After the other bands do 'serious music,' we come in and do 70s rock and roll and get the crowd dancing and singing. We covered Van Halen, Steppenwolf, Chicago, Jimi Hendrix, and the Knack. Here's part of the band stirring up the crowd during 'Wild Thing.'

Ok, we also play Kenny Loggins and I don't know why they added him with the other groups we covered, but in case you're interested here is about 3 minutes of the performance. The cool thing about only being an exhibition band is the judges don't have to pretend to be impartial. The judge in the black trench coat high fived a couple of our members after the performance and said , "You guys were GREAT!" the kids floated out of the stadium after that.

Friday 55 & Da Count-The Woods

Haunted by the beaches of Normandy,

he seeks solace in the familiar woods.

The currents in his life flow unchangeably

as the footpath beckons another way.

The breeze whispers through the treetops

like a mother soothing her child after a nightmare.

Away from the world's wickedness,

no evil molests him.

Peace descends

with falling leaves.

I inherited this painting by my grandfather after my grandmother died 9 years ago. It was done on thick paperboard and just thumb tacked into the back of a rickety frame. At my old house I had no suitable wall space. I've been in my new house for 4 years and didn't want to bother hanging things until I painted. It took me until last December to paint the living room.

My grandfather's painting needed some care in the form of a proper frame, mat, and glass to protect it. This week I finally got it framed. It may not be great art but I have loved it since I was a child. My grandparents owned a little vacation place "in the mountains" about an hour north of where I live now. That place was Grampop's refuge. He and Nana often took my brother and me there on weekends, giving my single mother some time to herself.

On the hikes we took together, my shattered little girl heart found happiness as Grampop pointed out wildlife, geographical features, and spun tales of the Lenni Lenapes who once lived in the area. Nana and I often giggled along the paths lined by wild berry bushes as we filled our caps full of the ripe fruit. When Grampop's health deteriorated to the point that he could not walk more than a short distance he sat still as a statue on the back deck, hands extended and palms up in zenlike repose, as songbirds came to take seeds from his hand. He had taught me very young how to get a chipmunk to eat from my hand but only he could coax the wild birds.

I know he was broken by the things he experienced after being drafted for WW2. I know he searched for healing in a whiskey bottle and I know people he loved suffered as a result. I know he had a need to create and dream and he suffered when he was derided for spending time on pursuits no one saw as gainful. I know he found peace in the woods and he led me to it when he took me by the hand on long walks. I know he fed my soul when he encouraged me to create and dream whether it was gainful or not.

I see all of that in this painting of his and I count it every time I see it.

HNT-Easy to Ignore

Easy to Ignore

You and the moon are a beautiful sight to me.

The stars in your eyes make it really hard to see you.

A night in the sun is all I really want,

You and me with the best of both for once.

Night breaks.

My heart could not ache any more.

Am I that easy to ignore?

You let your song blow right through me.

Your mighty intellect makes you mighty hard to see.

Will there come a time for me to be more to you more to me?

Night breaks.

My heart could not ache any more.

Am I that easy to ignore?

~Leigh Nash~

Is it Just Me?

Yesterday evening Mr. Lime came home and popped a DVD into the machine to watch while he graded papers. He got 5 minutes into the movie 'Parenthood' and turned it off in disgust after Steve Martin caressed his wife's breast through clothing and in the next scene a teenage girl's boyfriend popped out from under her bed wearing only his undies. He exclaimed, 'What is this crap?' He then proceeded to turn the channel to watch CSI reruns over the dinner hour. I asked him how a man touching his wife's fully clothed breast in the context of a happy marriage, and a teenage boy in underwear was more offensive than the rotting corpses and some of the violent perversions shown in CSI. Mr. Lime looked at me like I had three heads.

So, dear readers, what sorts of 'entertainment' would you turn off in disgust? And no, I am not just looking for you to take my side so I can win an argument. It's just food for thought.

Lecram gave the opportunity for readers to submit a question for him to answer in a post. My question and his answer were...

What do you wish the average American, who has very little clue of life outside these United States, understood about migrating to this country and life in other places?
Lime… of course you would ask the esoteric question. The short answer is… Americans, get over yourself! lol! The more diplomatic (and longer) answer is to first become aware of how and from where your own family got here. We all have a “root” homeland rich with history, culture and tradition. I think exposing oneself to one’s root culture is paramount and a wonderful first step to appreciating the world outside our comfort zone. For instance, you may be an Irish decedent and celebrate St.Paddy’s Day… but the hamlet in County Desmond will still be a foreign experience. I guess what I’m trying to say is… understanding begins at home… and where home once was is a great place to start.


Like I said in this Friday 55, I've always been fascinated by all the novelty that exists out in the wide world. the blogosphere has been an amazing way to get little tastes of places I might have missed otherwise and I have always wanted to be a part of the cultural sharing that goes on (Hence the year and a half of Trini Tuesday posts, which will still occur, just not every week.)

At the same time I think Lecram has a good point about learning one's own heritage. Mine is a bit confused since I am Greek by birth but Pennsylvania Dutch, which is really German, by upbringing. I was adopted at birth but I was always rather aware that I didn't look like the people around me. I can remember having to do some project at school about my heritage when I was young. I asked my mom what our family ethnicity was and what my personal ethnicity was. I don't know if there is something that the millennia of history imprints upon Greeks regardless of whether or not we grow up in the culture, but even without knowing much of anything about it I felt a little swell of pride about being half Greek, hehehe, maybe it was just the excitement about finally knowing. As a child the only way I knew to embrace that was digging into the mythology. I read every Greek myth I could find. I have found out, however, that unless you are Orthodox, speak the language, and have some relative back in Greece, a lot of the 'real' ones consider you rather suspect and not worthy of identifying yourself as such. I had one Greek exchange student tell me I probably didn't really have any Greek blood at all but was more likely Turkish. Erm...I may not have grown up in the culture but I do know enough to recognize that shy of being extremely vulgar that is about the worst insult a Greek can think of. Regardless of what the 'authentic Greeks' think it's a part of my heritage and a part I'd like to explore to a much greater degree than I have had opportunity.

The Pennsylvania Dutch part of my heritage is the part I identify with most strongly. I was soaked in it like bread and butter pickles or chow chow in brine. There was no escaping the German sensibilities along with the farming culture I was surrounded by. Most people think of the Amish and Mennonites when they think of the PA Dutch but that is only one small subgroup of the larger culture that encompasses modern people as well. There was also the spoken dialect that I heard while growing up and if not the dialect, the thick accent that almost always elicited the comment about being 'a dumb dutchie.'

The sad thing is how prevalent this notion is not only among those who come in contact with Dutchies but among the Dutchies themselves. My parents both came from families with a strong PA Dutch background, in fact my grandfather spoke the dialect. However, the older generation often did not want the younger generation to learn the language so as to avoid being called 'dumb dutchies' and so they could speak secrets amongst themselves. These days it is extremely rare to find a person outside the Amish and Mennonite community and under the age of 50 who can speak the dialect at all. My parents were extremely strict about our language usage and if my brother or I dared use local slang, pronounced something with an obvious accent, or lapsed into the ferhoodled (Yes, that's a PA Dutch word for confused and I love it.) syntax of a dutchman we were immediately corrected in no uncertain terms.

Now I agree that it is important to be able to function in standard English, but there are certain times when poetic license and cultural expression just beg for expression. When my young daughter came in from playing and her uncombed hair stood out from her head in all directions and gleamed with a sheen that could only come from having protested during regular hair washings such that their effectiveness was negligible it was much shorter to exclaim, 'What a stroobly mess!' than to go through the extended description I just provided. Stroobly is more than merely being uncombed but it doesn't cross over quite to complete filth and total negligence. There is no English equivalent for it. It is a very good word. Feel free to adopt it for your own usage. Honestly, I think it took going to Trinidad and learning to function in their slang to be able to get past a lot of the negativity about my own linguistic culture that had been beaten into my head as a child.

So, all this rambling just to say in the coming weeks there will still be some Trini Tuesday posts. You can also expect some Pennsylvania Dutch posts now and again because I do think there are a lot of misconceptions about the culture if there is knowledge at all. It will be a little way for me to get back to some of my roots.

Now feel free to ask about things you'd like to learn about or tell me something interesting about your own heritage.

The Enigmatic Mr. Lime

1. Who is your man?
Define 'your man.' I don't exactly own anyone. Slavery was abolished in the 19th century. Oh, you mean who is the guy I live with? That would be Mr. Lime.


2. How long have you been together?
Define 'together.' We got engaged in 1987. Yesterday, we spent most of the day in the same house.


3. How long dated?
Um, well that's sort of complicated. We didn't really date in a traditional sense. We were best buds for a year and did everything together, sometimes in a group, sometimes just us. Then we went on the bike trip where the entire group agreed everyone would stay platonic, if you recall. He proposed to me a couple weeks after we got back and a month after his first proposal I said yes. You figure it out. I can't and I lived it.


4. How old is your man?
Chronologically or attitudinally? Dog years or human?


5. Who eats more?
Hhhmmm, when he was still an avid distance runner he did definitely. Since he doesn't run anymore he eats like a bird, so now I do.


6. Who said "I love you" first?
Him definitely, but I say it more often.


7. Who is taller?
If he were shorter than me he'd be a ridiculously short man. He's got 8 inches on me...wait, oh nevermind....


8. Who sings better?
He has a very nice singing voice. I could peel paint with mine.


9. Who is smarter?
According to Wechsler, Stanford-Binet, GPA, and Mr. Lime's own testimony that would be me.


10. Whose temper is worse?
Hhmmm, I tend to be more vocal about it when I am angry but I think he gets irritated more frequently.


11. Who does the laundry?
Yours truly.


12. Who does the dishes?
Me again, aren't I so lucky?


13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
Is there really a right or wrong side of the bed?


14. Who pays the bills?
They have to be paid???


15. Who has bigger feet?
Uh, given that he is so much taller than me, I certainly hope he does so he doesn't get knocked over in a strong wind.


16. Who has longer hair?
He shaves his head, what do you think?


17. Who is better with the computer?
The computer likes me better. It told me so.


18. Who mows the lawn?
He does. Once a month whether it needs it or not. Ok, in his defense, we have more moss than grass.


19. Who cooks dinner?
Can he even find the kitchen without GPS?


20. Who drives when you are together?
I drive him crazy with my messy desk. He drives me crazy leaving dirty dishes all over the house.


21. Who pays when you go out?
Married couples are supposed to go out?


22. Who is most stubborn?
Just call us the irresistible force and the immovable mass.


23. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
Me


24. Whose parents do you see the most?
Mine by virtue of being in closer proximity.


25. Who kissed who first?
He leaned in first.


26. Who asked who out?
Remember? We didn't date, but I guess even just as friends he invited me first.


27. Who proposed?
He did, three times.


28. Who is more sensitive?
Tough call


29. Who has more friends?
Probably me, mainly because he doesn't have a need for people the way I do. He'd be fairly content as a hermit.


30. Who has more siblings?
He had 2 brothers to my one. He has 2 step siblings. I have one. I have at least 3 half-siblings out in the world somewhere. You figure it out.


31. Who wears the pants in the family?
Well, gee we both wear pants most days but he has been known to occasionally don a lovely little frock.

Friday 55 & Da Count-Three Little Words

They are

not baubles to bestow

only to be revoked when I fail to perform,

not a drug with a dosage

to be carefully controlled to avoid addiction,

not some scrap of food

to be carefully rationed in such portions

that hunger pangs grow worse for having tasted.

Speak them, live them.

'I love you.'

*image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/gomi/3385367/

There are those people who may feel love but will never say the words or demonstrate it meaningfully. There are those who don't love you but who will say they do for the sake of manipulation. There are those who will say it because you've served some purpose in their life and they may mean it in their own limited way. I'm not counting any of them. I'm counting the few and unfettered souls who truly love enough to be there when it's hard to do so and when it costs something. I'm counting the ones who truly mean the words and who freely express them in utmost sincerity knowing what a gift and healing balm it is to do so. You know who you are. I want you to know how much you mean, that I do not take those words for granted, and that I love you as well.

HNT-Who is That Masked Blogger?

You mean you guessed it was me? Did the dress give it away?

Good job, you clever thing. Now how about some treats for me?

Happy Halloween

&

HHNT