Happy Father's Day

Daddy, we love you. You are the best!

Whether you are picking apples:

Playing monkey:

Picking out my clothes:

Watching me while mom teaches:

Keeping me warm:

Sharing your favorite chocolate cake with me:

Not letting me get water up my nose:


Teaching me how to shave:

Or just being you:

Happy Father's Day to the Best Daddy in the world!

We love you.

Garden Lesson

We haven’t posted lately. . . .this little garden of ours has been consuming all of our free time (not to mention we misplaced our camera in our gardening wagon for about 10 days). Now granted we don’t have a ton of free time, but what we do have goes to the garden. The other day we had a particularly big gardening day! About every other day we go to Nana and Papa’s to water the garden. . . it gives us a chance to check in on them and take a look at what’s happening in the dirt. I have to say this garden thing has been a great idea. It has given everyone a chance to talk about something other than the same ole’. It gives me something to do while Thee runs their football-field-of-a-yard. And it is a great learning tool for my little investigator.

On this particular day, we discovered someone or something had been in our garden. The tops of our tomato plants had been eaten off, and our little detective immediately went into investigation mode. I showed him the tomatoes in question. He responded, “It must’ve been somethin’.”

I pointed out the tracks in the dried mud…He looked up to the right and put his finger on the corner of his mouth ( I kid you not) and said, “Some guy’s been in here.”

I said, “What about a deer?”

He answered back, “Me solved mystery!”

We then proceeded to weed our little plot and try to discern if the eggplant had sprouted. We clearly identified the carrot sproutlings, but we’ve given up on the eggplant …we’ll buy that at the farmer’s market.

We also recruited daddy (on his way home from work) to help us put up a fence. In general it was a great day, and there was very little t.v.

As Thee and I were sitting under the shade tree at the end of our day, I asked, “ So what have you learned about gardening?”

He said, “The corn growing. It really growing. The sun burns you. The shade is cold. Me sink in da’ mud. . .Mommy save me. And hawks.” (There are some hawks out there along with a ton of other birds.)

“Anything else?”

“Me a Jedi Knight!”

Every time I am feeling like I am some kind of mother, I am brought back to reality.

Reality lesson for today: Yeah, mom the gardening is good, but it will never compete with Star Wars.

*editor's note: these picture are from about two weeks ago. Our garden has progressed greatly since then. Watch for new posts.

There's dirt under our fingernails, and life is good!

Hello, All. I’m a little overdue in posting…sorry to all of my followers (I know you are out there Rhea Ann, my one and only)!

Well, first let me start with a little update on the “no t.v.” experiment. It lasted seven hours until “sugar lips” (that’s what I call my beloved when I would really like to call him something else) came home from work. His response was, “You’ve got to be kidding” He is always “in” when we are talking theory, but he just can’t seem to make it to the actual “in practice” phase. I must admit, I also had thirty-six on-line Composition II research papers to grade over the last week, so I was definitely weak and backsliding. However, that is not to say that our week was just one big, lazy veg-out session. Oh, no. We have been busy, and the television has gotten a big rest.

It seems that the gardening troll has arrived. We planted a big garden at Nana and Papas: tomatoes, cantaloupe, mini pumpkins, yellow squash, zucchini, corn, carrots, egg plant, green pepper, zinnias, snap dragons, and cosmos. Oh and cucumbers too…

We began to plan our front porch display:

I contributed to my crafting stash, with lots of fantastic ideas for darling tops:

I purchased a stove top espresso maker with the goal of creating the perfect home made latte. . .

Thee discovered “Hostess little white donuts”:

And I finished my first, of many, little pencil holders for all the special people in my life. Watch your mailboxes!

The Great Experiment

Okay, I admit it I'm not perfect. I let my child watch television, and not just educational television. He watches Looney Tunes, Johnny Quest, Scooby Doo and, and we already know -- Star Trek. Now, it is not that I advocate this t.v. watching. Oh no. I was the one counseling friends and family members on how bad television is for young minds. I was so proud of the fact that my little Thee didn't watch television for the first two years of life -- not much at least. And then as I started online teaching and Thee got more intersted in the mesmorizing moving pictures, the enticing music and the constant action, I realized that I could get more done with the television on. Its presence in our day has taken over like a noxious weed. We have it on constantly. Grades are due today, and after today...that's it. NO MORE T.V.!

We've got big things planned for the summer: a garden at Nana's and Papa's; weekly trips to the zoo; a vacation on the lake in Minnesota; walks to the library; nightime concerts in the park with a picnic basket; and lots of cooking and crafts.

When I was a kid we had one television in the living room, and it was never on during the day. When we came home from school we turned it on to watch cartoons, but then it went off after snack. We had more important things to do. Television was something you turned on when there was nothing else to do. It was an inferior activity as compared to being outside, playing with friends, making brownies. Of course, the programming and technology was a bit different. We had three channels, one of which didn't come in very well, and we were always "fussin" with the antenna to get Channel 3 to come in. We even tried balls of tin foil.

Today, if the television is off, everybody around here thinks it's broken. Why would you have the television off?

Publishing this on the blog will help us with this little experiment. We will do weekly updates on our Great Experiment and track our results. I think that Thee and I might do just fine...I'm a little worried about Daddy. Yep, Daddy has to participate too. Thee thinks it should apply to the computer as well. I agree, but I thought we better keep it simple and I was afraid, Daddy might leave us if I took away all electronic media. So here we go.

The Real Meaning of Mother's Day

I am an internal optimist. Every holiday I think, maybe it will be different this year. Maybe I will get a thoughtful present that wasn’t purchased from what they call the “impulse buy” section of the convenience store on the day of the holiday.

Thank God for my mother...


She took my little buddy out earlier in the week and let him pick out a charm for my bracelet and made sure I had a card to open. They wrapped it up in polka-dot paper and even added a little purple flower on top. It was darling. They hid it in the armoire, and little Thee spent all week checking on it to make sure it was still there. He wouldn’t let me get within three feet of its hiding place in fear that the surprise would be ruined. God, I love my mother – and isn’t that what this whole day is about—loving and appreciating your mother? She always comes through. She always makes it all better – every time—no matter what. I love you mom, you are the best!

Today is May Day!

We celebrated the big day with little baskets of goodies on doorsteps and an ole' fashioned round of ding-dong ditch -- Some lucky few got hoppy new friends. We followed the lead of the saltandchocolate.blogspot.com who directed us to http://www.purlbee.com/purl-frog/2007/6/14/the-purl-frog.html. Enjoy your day and stay hoppy!

Where have all the good donuts gone?

I am a self proclaimed donut connoisseur. I remember when donut shops were everywhere, and eating them for breakfast wasn't considered a mortal sin. There was Mr. Donut with the best chocolate cake donuts that had just a tad of a coffee taste -- they were "mocha" before we even knew "mocha"-- and they were dipped in glaze.

These shops were teeny tiny and people sat at a counter on stools and ate the freshly coiffed delicacies while they drank coffee, kept warm in glass pots on a burner. They didn't serve anything else: donuts, coffee, milk in mini cartons and orange juice -- that was it.

I remember a local shop, Dippy Donut. They had a great sign on the wall in the shape of a donut with a mirror where the hole should be. Around the donut was painted, "The object of a life should be to keep your eye upon the donut and not upon the hole." Their donuts were bigger than Mr. Donut, and they had a cherry cake donut, like no other -- that's cherry dough, mind you, not just a white cake donut with cherry frosting.

And then, of course, there were bakeries, actual bakeries that made their own baked goods (and fried goods in the case of donuts). You could walk in and order a "home-cut", and they knew what you were talking about. That's the kind my dad would always get: homecut. I used to think, "That must be a grown up thing to do. When I am grown up I'll understand the logic of ordering a completely plain donut, but for right now I'm going to go ahead and do the childish thing and order mine complete with frosting and sprinkles." I love the fact that my dad ordered homecut donuts and would drink coffee from a thermos when we went on weekend drives in our Volkswagen camper. I love the fact that we had a Volkswagen camper, but that is another post entirely.

Now, as I have "matured", I've never had a hankering for a homecut, but I have craved a maple frosted with peanuts -- a variety reserved for the much older generation a bakery employee once told me: "We only make a few of those these days. Most of the people that like that kind are dying off."

Dying off like the penchant for donuts in general, I would suppose. Well, I am happy to say that I have passed on the donut gene to my son. He loves his donuts! Sometimes even before his mommy can get him fully dressed in the morning. . .

Fried Dough Live On!

Keats was right. . .

I never used to get all that poetry stuff...I was an English major with a dirty little secret: I hated poetry. I hadn't read one since college. It was only recently when I had to teach poetry in one of my classes, that I actually read a poem again. I was feeling like a total hypocrite up there trying to convince a classroom of Comp I students that poetry was a worthy pursuit. They were whining, "Why do we have to learn this stuff? I'm not going to have to use it when I am an auto mechanic." (Remember these are not English majors, and I am not at an Ivy league school.) I was frantically searching for an answer beyond, "It's good for you." As I desperately wroung the depths of my soul for justification of its worthiness, I was silently, whole heartedly-agreeing with every word they were saying--- I literally had never used any of my grand knowedge of poetry until that very moment -- and I was an English major. Our time was probably much more practically spent learning the difference between a run-on and a complete sentence, or better yet, that capital letters have a purpose in written communication and that "you" is not spelled "u" for a good reason. But we trudged on, and I prayed they wouldn't discover my charade. . . and then. . .

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill,

The air was cooling, and so very still,

That the sweet buds which with a modest pride

Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside,

Their scantly leav’d, and finely tapering stems,

Had not yet lost those starry diadems . . .

. . .So I straightaway began to pluck a posey . . .

. . . Was a poet born?

Oh and by the way . . . It's done!

Before the Easter parade started, I, of course, had to finish the Superman cape. It isn’t perfect. The flaws can be seen with the naked eye, but it is done.

However, I must let you know, my gentle readers, my climactic last snip of the scissors was not met with the accolades, and best-mom-in the-world status as I had hoped.

As soon as I pulled its majestic, velvety, super heroedness from beneath the presser foot, I rushed upstairs to show off my finished product. The intended of the “handmade with love” garment ran to the other end of the room and yelled, “NO!”.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“It will make me look funny, like a duck.”

“Like a duck? What are you talking about?”

“Daddy said it would make me look like a duck.”

“Oh, Daddy? What is this about a duck in a cape?, “ I call with all the patience I can muster.

According to Daddy, he told Thee that the Superman Cape mommy was making was just like the one Duck Dodgers was wearing. He went on to say that when Thee wore his he would look just like Duck Dodgers.

Thee is smart enough to know that Duck Dodgers is not the hero of that cartoon, but rather the buffoon.

After promising an ice cream cone and a viewing of the Star Trek movie, Thee put the cape on long enough for me to take a picture of it.

Oh...that man of mine, I love him so.....

We're still here . . . just busy as rabbits in the spring . . .

Well, it has been a while since I posted. A lot has been going on around here. I’ve been gradin’, and cookin’, and craftin’ and cleanin’ getting ready for the big celebration that was last Sunday. We made it through. The house was clean, the baskets were filled, the ham was moist, and the cheesy potatoes were a hit. We even made it to church. I pulled it off once again, but only by the whiskers of my bunny-rabbit chinny, chin, chin.

First we dyed the eggs:


And then we baked a cake:

Then we danced gracefully and rode the bike around the dining room table while Herb Albert played on the record player:

Then we got all gussied up:

We looked for eggs:

Then we fell into the bramble bush in pursuit of the second to the last egg, and ended up with a basket full of chocolately goodness and a double bandaided knee, -- Nothin’ better than that.



What a day!

Montessori for Thee....Sewing Class and Psychotherapy for Mom

Well, Thee is all signed up for preschool in the fall. I waited in line for four hours to make sure he got his space in the one and only Montessori school in our community. So regardless of the comments of my brother, "Oh I remember the Montessori kids; they were always a little wierd!", Theo will be attending school two days a week for a couple of hours.

The key to success in Montessori is a sense of independence. If that is all it takes, Thee has that mastered. Our new mantra around here is, "I can do it myself" This includes choosing the outfit for the day, baking cupcakes, using the microwave to heat chicken nuggets, washing hands, opening the car door and getting in the seat, building intricate Geo Track configurations, and running the DVD player (he mastered that one about a year ago).

The other day I said, "Gee Thee, don't you need mommy for anything anymore?"

He looked up at me with those big eyes and said, "I need you to get nice and cozy." It helped a little bit, but I am definitely beginning to get the idea that I am now entering the stage of "Nice- to- have-around, but-really-not-necessary-for-survival."

With my most-important-person-in-the-world status a little threatened, I have been advertising some of my other qualities that will surely secure me an indespensible role in the coming years, one of those being costume designer. I am beginning to get a few requests to show off my sewing prowess. A couple of weeks ago we were at Menards, of all places, and they were selling cheap sweatshirts in odd colors. Thee immediately recognized one of the colors as the color of Captain Kirk's shirt in Star Trek. Feeling a need to showcase my unique talents, I quickly blurted out without thinking, "Oh, would you like mommy to make you a shirt just like Captain Kirk?" I'll let you guess the answer.

So for the last couple of weeks I have been questioned on the date of completion of said Captain Kirk shirt. I was able to secure a much coveted Star Trek communicator badge after a rather rigurous bidding war on e-bay -- who knew Mama had it in her. I delivered the prize at only $15.00. (I am afraid to look at how much it would have cost me to just get a brand new one). I have not however, managed to pull out the sewing machine and lower that little presser foot. Perfomance anxiety perhaps? Quite frankly, yes. I do know how to sew -- the kind of sewing you do in Jr. High Home Ec class. I worked with 100 percent cotton broad cloth. Today's fabrics are overloaded with stretchy fabrications that move and bunch and create havoc for a little seamstress like me. Somehow in the swell of all the attention I was getting as I was promising an authentic Captain's tunic, I made pronouncements of tailoring the sleeves, inserting a black collar and re-fashioning the bottom of the garmet. I can't do all of that. I can make simple valances for the bathroom, and a half set of napkins for some fancy Christmas dinner I dreamed up. What have I done? I know better than this. I was in marketing for God's sake. "Never over promise, unless you are prepared to figure out a way to pull it off -- you can't underdeliver -- your reputation will be destroyed as a supplier for ever. You have to make the customer happy and deliver on time, no matter what the cost!"

I tried rolling up the sleeves and pinning on the badge and calling it good. Thee didn't go for it. His response, "Mom this is too big" Even after he put on his black snow boots, it just didn't look like Captain Kirk.
In an attempt to divert his obsession, I promised a different costume -- a much simpler Superman cape. I have it all cut out, but the "authentic Superman insignia" requires that you use the zig-zag foot. The zig-zag foot was covered in 9th grade sewing. I didn't take 9th grade sewing. I wouldn't have been caught dead in a elective home-ec class -- I was strictly in the college prep trek by then-- A.P. all the way -- who will need to know how to sew when you have an advanced degree from a prestigous university.

I gotta go...I've got to finish this these things by Easter...my brother and his family are coming and I jacked up the ante to homemade superman capes for all children in attendance.

The mess of all of it: cooking, raining, and crafting

First, I must say take a minute and enjoy my "daffies". Thee bought them for me. He always thinks of me at the grocery store and must find a bouquet of something for mommy before we can begin our weekly shopping. I never disagree.

Now back to the blog. In my blog naivete, I thought Monday would be a good day to post. I thought there would be a lot to say after a busy weekend. I've changed my mind Monday will be a difficult day to post. I realize I spend the majority of Monday cleaning up the weekend mess, and we are a messy lot. I am the queen of mess. My son is a quick second, and my husband is a mess of his own. We subscribe to three newspapers, and on the weekend, the newspapers seem to mulitply like Tribbles (Star Trek reference). Then there are books: new books, old books, antique books, children's books, coloring books, and cookbooks. You name it there is a book about it in this house. There are bookshelves or piles of books in every room of our three story home, including each bathroom. It seems that on the weekend they all come off the shelves to play. I spend a good part of Monday sorting through all of the weekend's newspapers and salvaging all of the treasures to save, and then reshelving all of the books we have referenced during our weekend of reading.

And then of course there is the craft mess. I'm the crafty one, and now I've gotten my son into the sport. We are always making something. Our next project is to reconstruct the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. We just finished our Doomsday Machine -- this is a intergalactical machine from the Season Two of S.T. that eats starships. We studied pictures of it on the internet and decided that a long rectangular box covered in duct tape, aluminum foil, and a bit of scotch tape with red tissue paper stuffed inside would do the trick -- Knowing what I know about the special effects from the show, our homemade version is probably not far off from the original model. Thee was very happy with our creation, and Daddy thought it was worthy of an email to the William Shatner fan club.

Next, there is the cooking mess. My goal is to cook three meals a day around here, and I always have a helper -- who "helps" with the mess. Sunday's creation was Ratatouille, which involves a medley of: eggplant, red peppers, green peppers, mushrooms, onions, zuchinni, and yellow squash. Up above there is a picture of Thee cutting up the medley on our makeshift washing machine counters from my state-of-the-art kitchen. ***( I have to add here that I am currently typing this with one finger while I hold the doomsday macine with my left arm as an asteroid storm is pelting the entire scene. The odd thing about all of this was I didn't realize I was doing this until the phone rang.)

Anyway, needless to say my life is a mess, but I love it that way. I would much rather be drowning in newspapers, spaceships, coffee cups, crayons, and juiceboxes, than sitting all alone in a perfectly, clean, organized and orderly existence. Well, I guess, we gotta go! Thee is dressed in his new rain boots and ready to get outside and make a mess in the rain puddles!