Friday 55 & Da Count-Thick Chicks

FRIDAY 55

Not since ancient Egypt has such a large gold statue been made.
He was inspired by today's standard of ideal beauty...
Sorry, I think she looks like a famine victim.
The ancients knew a real woman when they saw her...
someone with soft, inviting curves
to comfort the one who enjoyed them.
Thick chicks rule.



DA COUNT

If you check the link in the 55 above you'll find an article about a sculptor who created the largest gold statue since ancient Egypt. It is modeled after Kate Moss.

I started to get curvy when I was pretty young. It was a pain being a teenager with a curvy body when every thing in style was tailored for skinny and straight bodies. I was thin but curvy. Add a couple decades, three kids and a noticeable amount of weight gain and I ain't exactly thin anymore. My curves are even more padded now and is it just me or are the styles requiring even more skinniness and fewer curves? Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes I get down on myself. Could I stand to loose some weight for the sake of health? Yes. But even if I do I'm not going to look like Kate Moss, who seems to be some sculptor's idea of perfect beauty. I am more than ok with not looking like that.

Slice of Lime-Colors

Another Amos Lee song I really like....and, well, it works with tweaking some pictures I already have since I didn't really have time to shoot anything else this week.



COLORS
Yesterday I got lost in the circus
Feeling like such a mess
Now I'm down I'm just hanging on the corner
I can't help but reminisce

When you're gone
All the colors fade
When you're gone
No New Year's Day parade
When you're gone
Colors seem to fade


Your mama called, she said
That you're downstairs crying
Feeling like such a mess
And yeah I hear ya
You're in the background bawling
What happened to your sweet summer time dress

I know we all
We all got our faults
We get locked in our vaults
And we stay

When you're gone
All the colors fade
When you're gone
No New Year's Day parade
When you're gone
Colors seem to fade

~Amos Lee~

Weird Politics

First of all, credit where it is due. This is inspired by some of Sudiegirl's early posts on the election. This is the sort of thing that may keep me sane through election day. I'll be adding my own captions. And yes, I am a bipartisan mocker so you can expect me to do the same to the Republicans later.

Look, Hillary. I'm sorry how things worked out for you. Even though I said yes to Obama I still think your hooters are great!




In a display of his famous bridge building behavior Obama says, "Neener, neener, neener!"





Away from the festivities Kucinich sings, "Happy convention to you, happy convention to you. I look like a monkey, but you smell like one too."





Back at the convention Jesse Jackson, Jr. dazzles the crowd with his own singing. "O give me a home where the Obamas roam, where the Bidens and Kennedys play. Where seldom is heard a trustworthy word and the Clintons just shut up all day...Come on now, join me on the chorus...."

The Kid Has My Vote.

So the Olympics are finished and now we have the Democratic convention. So I guess the bloodsport will kick into high gear. Ugh. I ignored the Democratic convention. I plan to ignore the Republican one as well. I don't really care what Michelle Obama said about her husband. I won't care what Cindy McCain has to say about hers. And I REALLY don't want to listen to Hillary another second.

Here's a political speech that makes as much sense as any of the others.

Meme

I give you money and send you into the grocery store to pick up 5 items. You can only pick one thing from the following departments, what is it?
Produce: Rotten tomatoes to throw at people
Frozen: Pizza so I can practice for the discus in the 2012 Olympics
Meat: I'll stand at the counter and shout, "Where's the beef?!"
Dairy: Curdled mare's milk
Canned goods: Anchovy paste


Let's say we're heading out for a weekend getaway. You're only allowed to bring 3 articles of clothing with you. So, what's in your bag?
Top hat
Hiking boots
Body stocking



If I was to listen in on one of your conversations throughout the day, what 4 phrases or words would I be most likely to hear?
"Bring me the head of (fill in the blank) on a platter!"
"I have no specific recollection of that event."
"Ask not what your mother can do for you. Ask what you can do for your mother."
"Not now, I'm watching reality TV."

So, what 4 things do you find yourself doing every single day, and if you didn't get to do, you probably wouldn't be in the best mood?
Plotting my overthrow of Lichtenstein

Ordering around my minions

Being attended to by my staff of male servants

Eating chocolate

You're driving down the road, and suddenly you're hit with this sense of road rage. What 3 factors probably contributed to it?
The moon came out and I turned into a werewolf

The suggestion the hypnotist planted in my head was triggered

The top secret memory chip the government put in my brain was activated

Sweet, you just scored a whole afternoon to yourself. We're talking a 3 hour block with nobody around. What 5 activities might we find you doing?
Successfully negotiating peace in the Middle East

Curing cancer

Eliminating world hunger

Capturing Osama bin Laden

Learning to program my VCR now that we almost never use it

We're going to the zoo. But, it looks like it could start storming, so it'll have to be a quick visit. What 3 exhibits do we have to get to?
Naked pygmy mole rats

Platypus

Aardvark

You just scored tickets to the taping of any show that comes on t.v. of your choice. You can pick 4, so what are you going to see?
Jerry Springer

The local cable tv program with a couple 70 year olds speaking in Pennsylvania German

The All About Me Show (Wait, I guess it's called The Tyra Banks Show....seriously she has a unique interviewing skill where she can turn any question around to talk about herself. It's amazing.)

Ultraman reruns

You're hungry for ice cream. I'll give you a triple dipper ice cream cone. What 3 flavors can I pile on for ya?
Sardine

Sauerkraut

Liver

Somebody stole your purse/wallet…in order to get it back, you have to name 5 things you know are inside to claim it. So, what's in there?
A 2 Boliviano coin

Ticket stubs to a soccer game in Cochabamba, Bolivia

A Trinidadian 10 cent piece

A note from Calypso when she was 5

The winning Powerball ticket

You are at a job fair, and asked in what areas you are interested in pursuing a career. Let's pretend you have every talent and ability to be whatever you wanted, so what 4 careers would be fun for you?
Laundress for a nursing home (I really miss the days of sorting out dozens of urine soaked and feces-stained bedsheets)

Performing rectumectomies on cattle after they've been slaughtered

Leader of Lichtenstein

Self Appointed Dictator for Life

If you could go back and talk to the old you, when you were in high school, and inform yourself of 4 things, what would you say?

Avoid the pudding in the cafeteria

Give up on trig now. You'll never need it when you are running Lichtenstein

Wear your hair down for senior pictures so you don't have to listen to your mother complain.

Wear the gigantic sunglasses ON stage to collect your diploma not just as you proceed into the stadium

Friday 55 & Da Count-A Good Book

FRIDAY 55


The smell of the sea filled her nose as she inhaled deeply.
She could feel the ship pitch and roll as it rocked on the waves.
The sun warmed her skin, its brightness made her squint.
Suddenly she heard her teacher chastising her.
She snapped the book shut and returned from the sea to arithmetic.




DA COUNT

A lot of my 55s aren't exactly fictional. The above scene took place in 4th grade. For 15 minutes each day we were supposed to read for pleasure, even the teacher. We were allowed to read anything we wanted. I became more than slightly engrossed in my book and never heard the teacher say reading time was over. He was more than a bit of a jerk and figured the best way to get me back to reality was to call the entire class's attention to me as I sat in my own little world found in the pages of that book.

In the intervening years I have more than once been told I have an irritating tendency to become so wrapped up in what I am reading that I loose track of everything else. I don't really feel the need to apologize for that unless it leads to a dangerous situation.

Truth be told, books were my refuge as a child. They were one of the ways I soothed myself. I found peace in the solitude and strength in the characters I read about (I've always had a fondness for biographies and memoirs). I still love to get lost in the pages of a good book.

Tell me about the books that have swept you away.

Say Cheese!

I ran out time to execute a particular idea for a blog post so today you get some critter pictures from the last couple of weeks or so.

This fellow looks like he is smiling at the camera. Or is it just me? Naw, he's smiling. Must be he likes tie dye (the sheet he's perched on) as much as I do.

This guy is definitely not smiling though. In fact, he looks more than a bit put out by the whole experience. Isaac and I have a long standing tradition from when he was 2 and started catching crickets. When he catches some very cool little critter he brings it to me and I take a picture of him with it before he releases it. It makes me smile that even though he is almost 13 Isaac still rushes in the house to show me what he finds.


I can't tell if this grasshopper is smiling or not. Maybe if I had a good macro lens we could see. Well, that and maybe if the darned hopper would face me instead of mooning me.

Trini Tuesday-Run Like the Wind

It's been a long time since I did a Trini Tuesday post. My long-time readers will recall it as a regular feature here for the first year and a half of the blog. To introduce newer readers I will just say I lived there for about a year (and Calypso was born there) and fell in love with the people and culture.

Sunday morning (Beijing time) Richard Thompson (center) took the silver medal in the men's 100m final.

*Image from Getty Images

He was joined in the final by fellow Trini Marc Burns who finished 7th in the race.

*Image from Getty images

One of NBCs commentators for men's track is none other that Trinidad & Tobago's own Ato Bolden, who took home the bronze medal in the men's 100m and 200m finals during the 1996 Summer Olympics.*Image taken from http://news.bbc.co.uk

In 2004 this was written:
These are special times for sprinters from the small Caribbean nation of Trinidad and Tobago. No country, big or small, has produced 100 metres times faster this year than the marks of young Trinidadians Richard Thompson and Kelly-Ann Baptiste. Students at Louisiana State University (LSU), the pair have sprinted to the top of the 2008 world-leader list with sparkling early-season times. ( source: http://www.daylife.com/photo/0fWe87X53ldRH)*Image from http://www.guardian.co.tt

Not too shabby for a nation of just over 1 million, huh?

How Pathetic Am I?

I painted my bedroom this weekend. I did the ceiling on Friday and two coats of paint on the walls on Saturday. After I finished I watched the Olympics. I saw the 38 year old winner of the women's marathon do extra laps in victory AFTER running 26.2 miles. Then I watched the women's swimming where 41 year old Danna Torres won a silver medal. On Sunday my legs ached ridiculously....because I alternated between getting up and down off a chair and squatting down to the floor to cut in the ceiling and walls before rolling paint on the walls, Oh, and I shoved some furniture around so I could get at the walls. I was sore from painting and these women didn't even look like they broke a sweat after their massive expenditures of energy.

Last week I was offended because when I went to the grocery store on Tuesday I was offered the senior citizen's discount (for age 55 and older) even though I won't be 40 until October (Mind you when I am 55 I will be perfectly content to look like I am 55 but at my current age I am less than thrilled to be told I look 16 years older than I am. When I am 55 I will be unhappy if someone assumes I am 71.). I'm thinking if painting makes me sore while other women my age are winning Olympic medals seemingly effortlessly maybe I should go back for the discount this week.

Either that or I should lobby the IOC to make house painting an Olympic Sport.

Friday 55 & Da Count-Six Days

FRIDAY 55

Six days

with no running around,
when everyone was in the same house,
when we could relax,

to debrief from six weeks of separation that followed hard on the heels of a horrid school year,

before practices for sports at three different schools begin,
before juggling the schedules,
before being scattered to the wind again.

DA COUNT

I'm trying to be thankful for six days. I'm counting that there were six, instead of none. (Especially since Da Count is about counting what you have instead of what you lack.) But six days is not enough time to reconnect as a family and recharge for the onslaught. Forgive me for wanting more.

Slice of Lime-Short Skirt, Long Jacket

So having a houseful and starting the crazy schedule that is summer sports practice isn't terribly conducive to creativity. This week's song is one I like to dance around to in the kitchen. It's one the kids used to like to dance around to as well. It's a fun song that required absolutely no creativity on my part in terms of coming up with images...although if I had time I could have come up with better than this (Especially that line about the machete, I used to have one big ass machete.). Ladies and gentleman, Cake's Short Skirt, Long Jacket.

I want a girl with a mind like a diamond
I want a girl who knows what's best
I want a girl with shoes that cut
And eyes that burn like cigarettes

I want a girl with the right allocations
Who's fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's playing with her jewelry
She's putting up her hair
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack

I want a girl with a short skirt
and a long jacket..

I want a girl who gets up early
I want a girl who stays up late
I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass

She is fast and thorough
And sharp as a tack
She's touring the facility
And picking up slack

I want a girl with a short skirt and a
long, long jacket..

I want a girl with a smooth liquidation
I want a girl with good dividends
At city bank we will meet accidentally
We'll start to talk when she borrows my pen

She wants a car with a cupholder arm rest
She wants a car that will get her there
She's changing her name from Kitty to Karen
She's trading her MG for a white Chrysler LeBaron

I want a girl with a short skirt and
a long jacket..

~Cake~

Werid Wednesday-Coping Skills

My kids have a few very minor chores to do around the house. They rotate who does what each week. This week it was Isaac's assignment to mop a couple of floors. There was a certain amount of complaining over this particular chore and how stupid it is and why can't I do it myself. He did get to it though. Somehow he managed to endure the indignity of being a 12 year old boy doing "housewifey work."

I can't wait to see him scrub out the tub next week when it's his turn to clean the bathroom.

Pennsylvania German Tuesday-Sticky Buns

Last week I shared how Diana wanted homemade Chicken & Waffles for dinner after her return from the south. Several of you thought it sounded strange but yummy. There was, however, a vocal minority who were of the opinion that few things could be more vile. How sad.

Well, this week I will share with you the next recipe Diana was craving. I believe this will have much wider appeal. Now many of you may think the name "Sticky Buns" is either a bit off putting or may snicker at the double entendre. Some of you may mistakenly assume I mean Cinnamon Buns, those things smeared with white icing. You may even think I mean those things you can get out of a tube at the grocery store. Perish the thought! (Though I will confess to making my share of those over the course of a lifetime.)

Sticky Buns are a Pennsylvania German bit of heaven. As a child we used to go to the farmer's market every weekend to get our produce, potato chips, pretzels, and deli meats for the week. Some times we'd stop by the Mennonite stands selling deliciously roasted chickens or homemade ice cream. As far as I was concerned the big treat was when we got sticky buns. And no, that did not occur when we sat on a bench where someone stuck an old wad of gum. Sticky buns are just that...buns that are very sticky. You can have them with nuts or raisins or just plain, but they are all a sticky gooey mess because of the sugar and molasses all over the top of them.

Now to the recipe, which I took from Boyertown Area Cookery or The Boyertown Housewife & Kitchen Efficiency Guide & Companion. (Doesn't that title smack of vapid women in pumps and pearls and frilly little aprons? Well, ok, in the case of PA German country it smacks of women with unflattering haircuts, no make-up, and frumpy calico aprons and I say that with genuine fondness for the less glamorous look and the women who wear it.) Actually I halved the recipe since I only had 5 people to feed rather than twice that number. I will add some clarification in with the directions from the book.

STICKY BUNS
1 package yeast dissolved in
1/4 C. lukewarm water
1/4 C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 egg
3 Tbsp butter
3 1/2 C. all purpose flour
3/4 C. lukewarm milk


The recipe says to let rise twice.

What it doesn't say is this...Obviously you have to mix it all up first. I softened the butter and rubbed it into the flour before beating the egg and adding all the liquid. Then just knead it until it's nice and smooth. I like kneading. It's a zen thing. The Pennsylvania Germans don't call it zen. they call it taking pride in doing a job well, but they are happy in attending to those minute details some people like to rush through. Just knead it around and breeeeeathe. Enjoy the kneading. Be the dough.

I covered the bowl with a wet towel while the dough was rising. How long does it take to rise? I dunno, how warm is your kitchen? Just let it double in size then punch it down. That's a good opportunity for visualizing deflating some arrogant jerk you know. Between the zen of kneading and the punching down I bet you never knew how therapeutic all this could be did you? Just wait until you wrap your mouth around these things. Your healing will be complete.

Ok, so now it rises the second time then you punch it down a little and plop it on the table to roll it out into an oblong shape. Also a little zenlike. Roll it till it's maybe a half inch thick. Take your time. Be nice to the dough. Roll, roll, roll your dough, gently on the counter...Now spread it with soft butter. Don't skimp and, good heavens, do NOT use margarine, you heretic! Slather it up good and then sprinkle it with cinnamon and brown sugar. If you want nuts now is a good time. I grew up with walnuts in my sticky buns but I didn't have any walnuts so I used pecans. It was still good. Now you want to roll it up and then slice it into one inch thick rolls. Like below. Sorry I didn't take pictures of the earlier steps. I was very into the zen of dough.

See, slices. Groovy, no?

Next you need to have your pan prepared. Well ok, maybe you should have done that earlier. The recipe tells me to melt 2 Tbsp of butter in this 9x13 pan. I used more. Butter.not.margarine. Listen margarine is all fat too. Either way it's fat. If you're going to eat fat it may as well be all natural tasty fat, not grody chemical fat. Ok, so melt the butter then generously sprinkle in brown sugar and on top of that pour molasses. Here is where I will cut you some slack. My family is not overly fond of the strong taste of molasses, though I am. You can use dark corn syrup, or honey too. Just use a bunch of it so the buns live up to their name.

Next, arrange the cut rolls in the pan and let them rise until they are doubled. I forgot to cover them this time but it was ok. Once they are big and fluffy stick them in a 375F degree oven for about 30 minutes.

When they are done let them cool a bit then flip them out onto a cookie sheet or platter. Abscond with the baking pan so you can scrape out all the gooey bits left in it after they cool (extra treat for the baker).

Try to wait until they cool before eating them. It will help if you remember the boiling, syrupy mess will take 4 or 5 layers of skin off the roof of your mouth if you eat them immediately. But dear me, doesn't that look good?

Can I eat one yet?
Not yet.

Can I now? Oh please, oh please, oh please?

Now is when you may lie and tell the kids they are still too hot while you sneak off with one so you can have a private moment. Oooohhhhh.....

Themthems

What's a Themthem you may ask? Well, according to the link at VE's place you turn the meme around as a way to tell on others. Since you know I almost never do a meme straight I thought this would be a fun twist for the next tag in particular.

So Maddy has tagged me with the following. Since I've done some variant of this at least 8 times it's the perfect time to turn it into a Themthem.

Rules:

1) Link to the person who tagged me.
2) Mention the rules.
3) Tell six quirky yet boring, unspectacular details about myself.*
4) Tag six other blogger´s by linking to them.
5) Go to each person’s blog and leave a comment that lets them know they’ve been tagged.

And away we go...

1. Lecram had the script of the first skit he wrote back in grade school tattooed on his back...in Chinese. He Photoshopped it out for the sake of his header.

2. Logo is a world thumbwrestling champ. She defeated the former champion during a bout that lasted for 15 rounds. A single arch of her eyebrow caused her opponent to loose concentration at a key moment. The resulting thumb cramp as he tried to recover lost him the match.

3. James once considered becoming a manicurist because Madge, the Palmolive spokeswoman, was his childhood hero. We can all be glad he later discovered motorcycles, vampires, and writing.

4. For the last 20 years, Susie has been collecting all the lint she finds in the dryers at her local laundramat. She claims she set up a second yurt at her house for extra living space, but it's just because the first yurt houses the world's biggest ball of lint. Now she just needs to find the guy with the world's biggest belly button so she can stuff the lint in there.

5. Among the myriad retro keepsakes Gman has held onto are the movie stub, popcorn bucket with remaining unpopped kernels, and the soda cup (with straw) from the first movie his mother took him to see when he was 4.

6. In a past life, Mona was Mort Snively, an accountant for a small appliance business in Otisville, Michigan in the late 1950s. He met his untimely death when an Electrolux vacuum malfunctioned as he tried to suck up a giant ball of lint from under the seats of the movie theater where the annual manicurist convention had enjoyed the theatrical production of a Malaysian school boy prior to engaging in a rousing evening of thumb wrestling competition.

Who could have imagined?

*Clearly, none of these details are about myself. Nor are they based in any actual fact. They are, of course the delusional imaginings of a blogger who was tagged when she was bereft of any blog-worthy topic. Please feel free to click along to the next blog in the hopes that it may cover something of genuine importance or relevance to anything.

Friday 55& Da Count- Appreciation

FRIDAY 55


Diana HATES washing dishes.
She cheerfully volunteered to clean the kitchen.
Mr. Lime would rather die than paint a wall.
He wants to paint today.
I have received a couple of kisses.
Siblings are getting along nicely with each other.
I'm not sure what happened.
If aliens abducted my family
I'm ok with that.





DA COUNT

Well, everyone is home and generally behaving. There have been a couple incidents but generally attitudes have been fairly cooperative and considerate of each other. That's a refreshing change. So I am counting both the reunion and that those who have been gone longest are seeming to appreciate that they actually do have it pretty good around here.

Slice of Lime-Summertime

Life has been consumed by laundry and cooking much missed dishes this week. I didn't have time to really think about Slice of Lime so you are getting some of Calypso's photographic handiwork from the beach last week. The song this week is The Sundays' Summertime. The boppy tune masks the more pensive lyrics, but that works just fine for me as I think about it. Give it a listen after you leave a comment.

Summertime

Do some people wind up with the one that they adore
in a heart-shaped hotel room, it's what a heart is for?
The bubble floats so madly, will it stay sky-high?
Hello partner, kiss your name bye-bye.
Ooh, sometimes.

Romantic Piscean seeks angel in disguise,
Chinese-speaking girlfriend, big brown eyes.
Liverpudlian lady, sophisticated male,
hello partner, tell me love can't fail.
And it's you and me in the summertime,
we'll be hand in hand down in the park.
With a squeeze and a sigh and that twinkle in your eye
and all the sunshine banishes the dark.


Do some people wind up with the one that they abhor
in a distant hell-hole room, the third world war?
But all I see is films where colorless despair
meant angry young men with immaculate hair.
Ooh sometimes.

Get up, a voice inside says there's no time for looking down.
Only a pound a word and you're talking to the town.
But how do you coin the phrase though that will set your soul apart
just to touch a lonely heart.

And it's you and me in the summertime,
we'll be hand in hand down in the park.
With a squeeze and a sigh and that twinkle in your eye
and all the sunshine banishes the dark.

And it's you I need in the summertime
as I turn my white skin red.
two peas from the same pod, yes we are,
or have I read too much fiction?
Is this how it happens?
How does it happen?
Is this how it happens?
Now, right now.

P-U!

Have I got a new scent for those Mandles I mentioned last week!

Mr. Lime has returned from Louisiana bearing his laundry and Diana's (he drove and brought her bags so she didn't have to check them when she flew since the blood sucking airlines now charge for checking even the first bag).

Isaac also had all his camp laundry which had the distinct stench of sweaty 12 year old boy. Any of you who have lived with boys of this age KNOW what I am talking about.

May I say there is a unique and pungent bouquet to BO infused laundry which had previously been washed in what Mr. Lime and Diana describe as "slimy, egg-smelling swamp water." When said laundry has had a few days to ferment inside a suitcase it acquires great power.

When one has roughly 15 loads of sweaty 12 year old boy clothes and BO infused swamp water smelling clothes and linens it begins to permeate one's nasal passages to a great depth.

I just need a name for this new scent.

Suggestions? Anyone? No?

Ok, how about a repost of my expedition to the summit of Mount Laundry then? This is from the very early days of another blog I contributed to long ago.

Scaling Mount Laundry

6:43 am
Dawn breaks over the summit as the expedition party wakes at the base of the mountain. There is an excited sorting throughout camp. After a gathering of resources and careful inventory, one intrepid laundress and her Sherpa guide will attempt to reach the peak today. Other members of the party will remain at the base camp.

7:00am
The path for ascent has been carefully mapped. Failure to follow it exactly could result in failure to reach the summit. The climbers face a myriad of perils even under optimal conditions. Avalanche under a stench of fermented clothes is a very real possibility. Rumblings from the septic system provide an ominous reminder of past attempts that left failed climbing parties to descend in disgrace.

7:15am
Base camp is established at sheets and towels. Ascent begins. The climb is easy. There is an air of electric thrill......wait, it's just static cling.

8:15am
The laundress and the Sherpa quickly pass the first tier and easily transition from linens to denims. The terrain becomes more rugged but holds are still easy to find. A patch here or a belt loop there provide the necessary anchors.

9:24am
The first challenge comes when the climbing team must decide where to cleave the darks. During the planning and prior expeditions it was expected there would be a single tier to scale. The darks are deceptive though. From the ground the climb looks simple and clear cut. Once arriving at this level, the difficulties become more apparent. Prior attempts have been stymied by the arrogant assumption that this level could be taken quickly. The laundress and Sherpa will first ascend the greens, blacks and blues. Upon successful completion and a short break, they will carefully work over reds and tie-dyes.

11:45am
Elation washes over the 2 climbers as they fold the last tie-dye t-shirt! They press on boldly through the wilds of lights and perma-press. The air begins to clear and they take a moment to regather strength before they require bottled air at the next level.

1:00pm
The pace has slowed. The septic field belches noxious fumes. The division of darks, though necessary, taxes the leeching ability. It is a cost that had to be paid. The septic fumes along with the thin air at the new level require the climbers to begin using bottled air. Here at whites, where sweat socks and underwear abound, the oxygen is as thin as the filth is thick. Climbers who have failed to use air masks have often been overcome. Delirium and even death have hampered the successful ascent of other explorers. Our climbers shall not be so unwise.

2:30pm
The final sock is matched. The summit is in view! Two small sections of delicates remain. At this altitude extreme care is necessary. A misstep could unravel the expedition like a cashmere sweater or a stocking with a snag.

3:35pm
The laundress and her fearless Sherpa guide stand atop the summit. They hoist a flag of bras, staking it firmly to dry in the fresh air that swirls around them. A sense of exhilaration and victory brings tears to their eyes as they survey the neatly folded piles of clean clothes. Not one sock has been lost, no stain remains.

4:00pm
Descent is rapid. Contact with base camp is re-established. Stacks of fresh clothes are distributed to team members. One voice from among the throng is raised and reaches the ears of the laundress.........."You didn't wash my favorite shirt!"

Home Again

Isaac was gone all last week at camp. He arrived back on Saturday chattering excitedly about all the fun he had. He had a good time and can't wait for next year. It seems he found a pair of Steve Urkel looking glasses in an old pick up truck that each week's winning team of campers gets to spray paint in any design they want. He was on the Pink Team, which came in dead last for the week's competitions but apparently at his leading was at least the most amusing. Urkel impersonations, a "pinkie" dance he invented, the great TP night when they spent countless rolls decorating the camp trees and buildings, and mooning contests all figured prominently in his stories. It seems the assistant director thinks in a few years Isaac and his partner in crime will be good counselors because of their antics. Be afraid.

On Sunday Diana flew home after her 6 weeks in Louisiana. To Calypso's credit she arranged for one of Diana's dear friends to come with us to the airport as a surprise. It was a real delight to see the 3 girls and Isaac having a happy reunion in the back of the van during the drive home. I asked what meal Diana wanted for dinner and jokingly offered gumbo or jambalaya (two things I've never made). She rolled her eyes and said she'd had her fill of those two dishes. After a moment of thought she came back and asked for Chicken and Waffles. I was so proud that she hungered for proper Pennsylvania food.

Now, lest any of you southern types get confused and think we eat it the way you do (waffles with a side of fried chicken and gravy) allow me to correct you. We make our waffles like normal but we add the chicken leftover from the carcass of a roasted bird to the gravy which is then poured over the waffles (this is a dish that is all about stretching leftovers and limited resources into a rib sticking meal). Now, I know some of you are thinking this sounds gross and weird. Trust me on this, ok? Diana's friend, who is a self-described picky eater, expressed great reluctance at dinner but when she tried it she thought it was terrific. That she had seconds lends credence to her statement. That she declared she was going to tell her mom about it and ask her to make it too should make all of you willing to try this.

Ok, so you may want the recipe. I will tell you I have recently been converted to Alton Brown's waffle recipe so you can go grab that right off the link. Since I didn't have leftovers from a roasted chicken and it was late and I needed to get milk anyway I just picked up a small rotisserized bird (Is that a word? It is now) at the store. I pulled off some of the meat and shredded it for the gravy which I also kind of cheated on since I didn't have any actual pan drippings or time to make stock.

1/4 C butter
1/4 C flour
1 C milk
1 c water
2 tsp chicken bouillon, mixed into the liquids

-Melt the butter in a saucepan, stir in the flour.
-Add liquids slowly and stir over medium low heat until it thickens.
-Add pepper to taste

After the gravy thickened up I tossed in the shredded chicken. Ladle that all over the waffles on your plate and schleck it all up like a good dutchie. This fed the 4 of us who are omnivores. It would not have been enough if my vegetarian Calypso came back to the dark side.

Just Roll With It

No, I did not fall off the face of the earth. When I went to the beach last week we decided to camp overnight and we got back late Thursday. Friday's lack of post I will chalk up to having "beach brain." I was so grateful for the invitation. Calypso has been asking to take a trip to the ocean for a couple of months. I have to be honest, although I grew up visiting the New Jersey Shore, the last couple of visits many years ago were so unpleasant due to dirty and crowded beaches I had no desire to go back. When our hostess specifically promised clean, uncrowded beaches (without me inquiring) I took her up on the invitation knowing how excited Calypso would be. We descended upon Sandy Hook, NJ and the description was accurate. The weather was perfect too. Our hostess also brought her two young grandsons.

Even more than a beautiful day at the beach there was the pleasure of seeing Calypso's joy at visiting the ocean. Better yet was the openness she extended to me. We had some really sweet mom/daughter time. As excited as she was she also was a bit nervous about the strength of the waves and asked me to come out with her when she went farther than knee-deep. In turn she provided the security needed by the little grandsons who didn't want to wade up to their own waists without someone's hand to hold. It felt good to be needed and it was lovely to see her needed too. Later, when we all went to bed in the single tent she wanted me to tell her stories like when she was little.




Now you must know that any sort of getaway I am involved in will have its share of outrageousness too. So thought there were some wonderfully tender times to be shared there was some absurdity too. One thing Calypso was less than thrilled by was the presence of jellyfish. At one point both she and the 7 year old grandson wanted me to take them out deep so we could bob waves. They also each insisted I hold their hands as we waded out. As we reached the first little cresting wave, Calypso noticed a few jellyfish and became unnerved. She would not let go of my hand and I was trying to calm her down while maintaining a grip on the 7 year old. At this point I became distracted, which is never a good thing when facing oncoming waves of increasing size. Finally Calypso released my hand and made a dash for shore....just as I looked up and saw a fairly enormous wave ready to crash into the 7 year old and me. It knocked me backwards and I thought, "Oh s***!" just as my head went under and I tried to keep a grip on the little hand still in mine. Then my head slammed into the seafloor and I felt my neck roll as I thought, "Oh d***! Where's the 7 year old?" Next I felt my ass and legs continue rolling with the wave over my head, which was still planted in sand, and I thought, "Oh f***! My neck will break, the kid will drown." Finally, I popped out of the water, looked around and saw the 7 year old coming up with me.

I grabbed the boy and headed back to shore where I found his grandmother holding her sides laughing as she described the scene from her point of view. It seems that the two sets of legs flying out the top of the wave in unison and ending in the two of us popping up to standing without so much as a single splutter or cough made for some sort of deranged though graceful synchronized drowning performance. She tells me is would have won money if she'd been filming it. Sadly for you, fortunately for me, no such YouTube moment was captured for the sake of posterity. Calypso did however, snap a shot of me discovering the roll in the wave had deposited roughly 78 pounds of sand in my suit.

The next day we visited the two local lighthouses, Twin Lights and Sandy Hook Lighthouse. The light at Sandy Hook is the nation's oldest and is still in operation though it is now automated. At Twin Lights there is a nice little museum and a very large example of a Fresnel lens on display. The lens is actually a double-sided series of concentric glass prisms. The prisms allow for the light to be focused into the single beam that is visible for great distances. It's so simple and yet so effective that it's a design still in use. At Sandy Hook we were too early to be able to go up into the lighthouse or tour the keeper's house but we did get to stroll around and see a brief film about the history of the light. Interestingly, it came under the fire of American troops during the Revolution because if the British captured it they'd control New York Harbor since Sandy Hook is at the narrow and treacherous entry to the harbor.



Unfortunately, the lighthouse exploration was curtailed when the 4 year old was suddenly gripped by the need to empty his stomach as we drove to the next stop. Bless Calypso, she showed great compassion, tolerance, and helpfulness when she helped clean up the boy's blankie and the car while his grandmother and I cleaned him up. She exhibited no small amount of prudence by keeping a baggie under his face during the rest of the car ride. It proved wise when he filled two more of them. Being wedged between two car seats for a very long ride with a vomiting preschooler has to be one of life's truly unpleasant things but Calypso was uncomplaining. I commended her highly for not only keeping in check her own urge to spew or to break out into tears but for being a comfort to the boy and a help to all of us. Sorry to horrify you all with tales of chunder. Let's think happier thoughts now. Such pretty flowers, so lovely to see and nice to smell. Such a relaxing beach, so nice to sit in the sun....Ahhhh, to the happy place...

Rolling with a relaxed pace, a crashing wave, a spasm of rapid reverse peristalsis...it's all good if you come out of it better than you went in.