Cover us. . .we're goin' in.

I am not an athlete. . .Tony is a competitor, but he's no athlete either. Thad has fallen off the couch twice tonight. He did it the same exact way both times--and not on purpose. Victoria slipped in her sock feet and splatted all over the kitchen floor as soon as she got home and got her shoes off today.



We are not a graceful crew.

So. . .we signed up for soccer. Go figure.

Thad is very excited. Victoria is not as excited but is warming up to the idea. She IS very happy about the whole accessorizing thing. . .shin guards, water bottle, etc. Hot and sweaty--not so much--but she's all about the stuff.

I am pretty confident that we will not take the little league soccer world by storm--more like by accident. But we're willing to help--to get out there and commit our Saturdays and our sanity through December 2nd (minus the one Saturday we will be camping). We will honk and drive in our crepe paper bedecked cars during the parade. We will bring our fold up lawn chairs to cheer on our team during the competitions. We will kiss bruises and chant positive chants and say "Great Job!" and "We'll get 'em next time."

And whether this is a yearly or merely one-time event, we're goin' in. . .

One of those blogger things

Sarah is always "wow-ing" me with her never ending stream of blogosphere surveys. . .so today, in keeping with my very narrow spontaneous, impulsive side, I am posting one here. And Sarah is exactly 3% more impulsive than I.

There was another time I got a little crazy with the blog identity thing. . .and if you are so inclined to read a back-blog, then go here. I'm not kiddin'. . .it is a veritable cornucopia. . .a buffet of little known facts about me. Come on. . .be impulsive!!! Then you can go and find out little known facts about your very own self. . . I've used up my 29% impulsivity and then some on this blog alone.

You Are 29% Impulsive

You're a pretty stable and serious person. You don't take things lightly. This doesn't mean you can't have fun - you just have fun responsibly. You definitely have a spontaneous side, but you only let loose when it's appropriate.

Are You Impulsive?

Unapologetic Cuteness

So no one's been commenting much lately. . .on my humble little blog or on many of the others that I read. Maybe everyone is too busy. I know I'm too busy, but I'm also excellent at procrastinating and that's why you keep on hearing from me. Maybe no one is blogging about anything worthy of commenting. . .but I don't really think that's true seeing as how I keep on commenting. Of course, if you know me, you know I could hold a conversation with absolutely anyone including just myself--which is pretty much what I'm doing right this second. . .so here are some cute pictures of my kids. They are not, by far, the CUTEST pictures, but they are all I have on our 6 year old grainy digital video camera with the photographic option.

The girl. . .in all of her dress-up glory. She's quite the looker. . .



And here is the boy pretending that he's going to run over you with his Big Wheel. He won't REALLY run over you with his Big Wheel, but he likes to pretend.




That's all I got. . .Friday was the end of the 1st 6 weeks in my school district. I am hoping beyond hopes that the second 6 weeks is a little more calm and sedate than the 1st. . .yeah--well--one can dream. Happy nearly October to ya. . .and comment at will.

Why is it. . .

Why is it that my children can play totally unattended and happily all alone by themselves until the phone rings or I sit down at the computer? Why is that? It's not a new happening in the land of motherhood--mothers all over have shared their experiences about trying to keep kids quiet while having a phone conversation--now it extends to the computer. It also extends to napping. My children have not napped in YEARS--but when I try to take one, I am treated as though I have sold out to the gods of sloth and negligence. . .

EGADS!!!!!

Okay. That's that. There are many, many things to do this weekend and the time goes all to quickly.

Which is why when the kids want my attention and I'm on the phone or the computer or napping I feel that twinge of guilt. Time goes all to quickly, you know.

"Pigs and Geese and Ducks better scurry. . .

"Pigs and geese and ducks better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey, when I take you out in my surrey with the fringe on top."

Not quite what they had in Oklahoma. . .but the song is ruined for me anyway, 'cause I can only hear the "When Harry Met Sally" version in my head.

There is a limited number of things one can do on an island since it is, after all, an island and has only so much room for activities. Victoria is keeping a list of the things we have yet to do lest we forget. Our favorite things to do on Galveston Island are free. We go to Tony's parents' house, the beach, ride the ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula and back. We also splurge and do one night of "costing" things when we are down there. Normally it's dinner out and a game of putt-putt golf at the PRETTIEST little putt-putt course you've ever seen.

THIS time, it was taking a bike ride. What a lovely idea. Pedaling along the seawall with the breeze blowing and gently ruffling the fringe on what was touted (in painted banner) as "The Cadillac of Surreys." The kids honking the horn at seagulls--waving to passers-by.

There are lots of interesting facts about Galveston Island. It was home to the aggressive and cannibalistic Karankawa Indians. They would smear their bodies with rancid alligator fat to keep the mosquitoes away. (There you have the extent of my remaining knowledge of native Americans of Texas from the ONE year I taught 4th grade.) It was also reportedly the "secret hideout" of famed pirate Jean Lafitte. The hurricane of 1900 was the worst in the United States in recorded history sweeping away almost every building on the island and inspiring the construction of the Galveston seawall and jetty system. Galveston was also home to the first newspaper AND the first electric lights in the state.

Of all of the Galveston trivia I have read or heard, however, I have never been privy to the most interesting fact of all.

Galveston Island does, in fact, run uphill both ways.

I'm not quite sure why this is not a more widely known item of interest. Maybe it's because you only notice this odd geological malformation while pedaling a surrey that holds up to 6 people when only 2 people's legs are long enough to actually reach the pedals and pedal it. . .at 4:30 in the afternoon. . .on Labor Day weekend. I am sure it's not nearly as noticeable if, say, it's February and a two person surrey is occupied AND being pedaled by two people.

Alas, I don't plan to find out. It was fun while it lasted. Victoria was able to attend to her list. Riding the bike has been officially (thank all that is good and holy) marked off--at least until the children are a little taller.

Next item on the agenda. . .duck boats.

Happy Birthday, Dear Sarah

Today is Sarah's birthday. Don't know who Sarah is or why I would refer to her as though you should? Well, go here and here.

I have a little bloggy routine when I get on line. I go through all of my favs, then post whatever I intend on posting for that day. Sarah's is my last stop, because my list is alphabetical, and her's begins with a "T." And you know what. . .Sarah has already wished herself a happy birthday before I even got to it. It's not her fault. After church we had to run errands. . .then we ate lunch. . .then I celebrated Sarah's birthday by taking an hour nap for her since she's got company AND a speaking engagement this week, and probably didn't get to indulge in that particular pleasure on her day. I feel badly that I'm a little tardy with my wishes. . .but it's still the 17th, so at least I'm not out and out late.

Happy Birthday, Sarah!!!!!!!! I am thinking of you this week, and can't wait to hear all about this next Grand adventure of yours. Play your favorite Karen Henley birthday song, and get Ashley to pat you for me. :) I love you!

Reality Blogging: Welcome to our home

Welcome to the reality of our home.

The girl is wearing a very sparkly, pink hand-me-down ballet outfit, a tiara, and winter gloves. The boy is just glad I made sausage and eggs for breakfast.


This is what happens when you and your husband sleep until 8:00 on a Saturday, but the children get up at 6:45. . .

Sesame Street, a buttery soft rabbit and Curious George in a neat row in the middle of the mess. . .along with shoes and the trays the kids ate their lunches on.


Wide angle view of the chaos. . .this was right after school started. . .it doesn't look much different right now except for the clean laundry that is folded and stacked in piles in front of the fire place.

Kitchen. . .if it's gonna be a mess, it might as well be a colorful mess. . .we like pink and lime green a lot. . .well, Victoria and I like it. Tony and Thad tolerate it.

Yes. . .for some of you this will fall into the TMI category, but for the rest of you, you will recognize the reality and know that there are very few "perfect" house keepers out there.

I could write a very long explanation of why our home looks like the place for barnyard animals to live, but I won't. I will say, here is my effort to be transparent and encourage anyone who thinks they are the world's worst housekeeper.

You lose.

I am the world's worst housekeeper. . .despite my status as a flybaby and my love for FlyLady and all she represents. I keep on trying, but this is basically the current state of my home. . .so take heart. If yours looks like this. . .if you can't eat dinner because there is no clean flat wear. ..if you have resorted to smelling the clothing to see if it's clean or dirty, it's nice to meet ya, sister-friend!!! Off to set that timer for several rounds of 15 minutes and dig out from under what I can.

Addendum

By the way. . .there was no orange moon pie in Tony's birthday "cake." They proved more elusive than the lemon and strawberry, so neither Momma nor I could find one. . .and Tony has NOT gone looking.

Part 3: Happy Birthday to you. . .

If you've not gotten it yet, my husband has some pretty strong opinions. Actually opinion isn't really a strong enough word for what he has. They are more like credos that apply to any and everything. He has food credos. . .brand credos. . .behavioral credos. . .clothing credos. . .the list could go on and on. He has CONCRETE CREDOS regarding most things in his life. He doesn't really care if YOU follow his credos personally. . .but I, being his wife, am very aware of each and every one. For example, he will NOT under ANY circumstances eat margarine, or watch a movie with Jimmy Stewart in it, or wear a dress shirt that is not starched within an inch of it's life, or eat 7-Up jello salad. Of course, he won't lie to you, or cheat, or stab you in the back either, so his insistence on certain standards of decorum, quirky though they may be, pays off. Evidently this bent extends to ginger as well. And so the madness continues. . .

Tony wrote:

The thought of ginger (which I have never fully-embraced as an edible food, although I realize it is a necessary evil in some Asian meals) being used to cleanse the palate causes me to cringe. I strongly recommend raspberry sorbet, although the only place you can get it is in fancy dining establishments where they make it in-house. I think ginger is more suitable for cleansing clogged sewer pipes. As far as Bryan's statement of "try it you must," I stand by my instinct that the offending orange should not enter the mouth. HOWEVER, if you are going to gamble with your life, then I agree with Bryan that, by all means, you should videotape the event. I wonder if, in doing so, you might be tempted to over-react and ham it up for the camera, thus presenting a less-than-honest evaluation. Do you feel capable of being candid?

--Pappy

And so we waited. . .and waited. . .and waited. . .and we went on our own vacation. . .to a different state. . .and then the moment of truth arrived. . .

Richard wrote on July 10:

It is done.

I have attempted to gather my thoughts to create a meaningful and elaborate account of the events that took place when the Orange Moon Pie was consumed. However eloquent descriptive thoughts came and went through my mind like whispers one might hear when one is only in a half-sleep.

Did it really happen? It must have, the Moon Pie is gone, though no video exists that I am aware of. Sorry Tony and Bryan. Memories of the event only remain in a blur like an older actor that requires cheese-cloth over the camera lens to hide the ravages of age on his face, or like an overripe peach in a blender.

I remember, the texture was sound. The confection was assembled by good hands. However the taste eluded me. "What do you mean 'eluded you?' It was orange wasn't it?" I hear you say. Yes... eluded transitive verb.1 : to avoid adroitly : EVADE 2 : to escape the perception, understanding, or grasp of 3 : DEFY I simply could not identify what kind of orange flavor it was. It wasn't as simple as navel, mandarin, blood, clementine... It was an artificial flavor of course, but WHICH ONE?! My orange experiences were stretched to the limit. It wasn't Jolly Rancher, Tic-Tac, Dyna Mint, Tang, Fanta, Crush, Star-Burst, Life Saver, cough syrup/drop, Sunkist (soda), Push-Up, sherbet, Pop-Ice, Julius, Snow Cone, Slurpee, or Popsicle. Although I think it came closest to Popsicle. Close though it may have been, it still wasn't that option.

I don't know if it was the confusion factor but I was not dissatisfied by the overall experience. Loathe though it may be for Tony to hear, I will not put on airs to elicit a desired reaction from my audience. Despite this opinion I cannot envision myself buying one again as the experience was just too surreal. I know not where it would be placed on the CB(L)V Scale. It is the wind.

the horror... the horror...

-Arthur of Darkness

Tony's birthday is July 9. He does NOT like to be elsewhere on his birthday (see "Credo" section above) than the town and state of his birth--unless it's in Galveston which is pretty close and has a beach and is therefore tolerated. Each year for as long as he can remember, he has had a strawberry birthday cake. Given his penchant for particulars regarding foods, this is no ordinary mix-up-a-box-buy-a-tub-of-frosting cake. The first time I attempted to make the cake for him, I gathered three recipes and set to work. I had NO IDEA that homemade strawberry frosting--with real butter of course--WILL NOT HARDEN unless the strawberries are THOROUGHLY drained and the house is chilled to something WAY cooler than you can get in ANY southern house during the first week of July--and my parent's house doesn't have central air, so the project was doomed from the start. I think I used TWO WHOLE BAGS of powdered sugar trying to get the icing to thicken. The layers of cake slid around like socks on the kitchen floor. I have gotten good at the strawberry cake over the years, but I've never attempted another one at Momma and Daddy's house.

Guess where Tony had to spend his birthday this year?

With the strawberry cake fiasco of '92 and his birthday away from home issues. . .I decided to pull out all the stops and go for broke. . .it was a Moon Pie cake or bust! I envisioned several favorites and some of the new flavors all stacked together with one, lone banana double-decker atop the pile and a candle all lit and sparkling. What a surprise it would be!!!! Then, without the time to go looking for the elusive banana pie--much less the new ones--I hopped on the trusty internet. Moon Pie central can be found there. . .and I was all ready to order them up. . .then I happened to talk to my mother. I mentioned my idea and she was off like a shot scouring the Fred's and Dollar Generals and family-owned grocery stores of the town where she lives. She would call with a daily update of her "finds." I lost track after awhile. . .but when the final count was tallied, Tony ended up with 72 Moon Pies of various shapes, deckers, and flavors. See the wackiness below.

Tony wrote:

ORANGE MOON-PIE BE DARNED!!! Attached you will see my Louisiana-style birthday "pie" (presented by the Watts family) and my presents stacked behind it.There's plenty to share, so we need to get together soon! I just bought "Best in Show" today. Maybe we can watch it. Bryan, get on a plane and join us. Bring some barbecue, too.

--Pappy

Richard wrote:

Great Jumpin’ Jehosephat Man!

Guard that bounty with your life. I noticed you yourself have some of the "new fruit flavored" Moon Pies. We can call it a longitudinal study and you can make your own tests. Jes' b'ware the strawberry, me lad. Why don't you start suggesting some Fridays and Saturdays between now and the end of August and we'll see what we can do to get together. As a bonus, I believe Sam’s has a case of RC for $5.98 or so. This or Dr. Pepper will do (as per the Junk Food Junkie song of the 1970s, "Dr. Pepper and an 'ol Moon Pie!")

Report your own Moon Pie findings here.

-Dr. Slappy

Thus ends the tale of the Moon Pie. . .e-mails ceased as school and Moon Pie consumption began. It's taken awhile to knock a dent in the stash, but the children are now allowed chocolate only--though they prefer other treats. Tony shared the abundance with his buddies last weekend while crabbing the Texas Gulf Coast. A good time was had by all.

How can the attention given a pastry such as the Moon Pie take up three nights and three blog entries worth of time and space? Well, devotion, I suppose. . .devotion to one's preferences. . .devotion to the happiness of loved ones. . .devotion to the simple things like snacks and humor and conversation. A snack food with a decidedly southern twist now elevated to the stuff of legend by three Urban and one mid-western Eagle Scouts and the woman who most decidedly loves (at least one if not all 0f) them. Silly, really. But it's made me laugh. . .and I hope it's done the same for you.

Part 2: To boldly go

I realize that some of you may not have had opportunity to partake of or even be introduced to the humble Moon Pie. Allow me to give you some background information.

Moon Pies come in three standard flavors: chocolate, vanilla, and banana. You already know Tony’s particular preference, and as far as he is concerned, vanilla is right out. The standard anatomy of a Moon Pie is two soft graham cracker type cookies that house a layer of marshmallow fluff which is then enrobed in a wax-like coating bearing one of the standard flavors along with appropriate coloring for said flavor. That is the single-decker Moon Pie. If you are brave enough—and hungry enough—and have both a circulatory and digestive system strong enough to tackle the double-decker Moon Pie, your taste buds are in for a culinary treat. You get THREE soft cookies and an additional layer of marshmallow fluff. The Moon Pie is round.


There ya go.


So, early in June Tony received the following emergency dispatch from his friend, Richard:

Richard wrote on June 14, 2006:

Dateline: Wimberly, Texas

Re: Discovery

Three "new" moon pie flavors were spotted at the local Brookshire Bros. *STOP*

Strawberry, Lemon, and Orange were the specific flavors *STOP*

Initial revulsion was overcome by curiosity and one (1) of each was purchased *STOP*

Granted these are not the traditional stoic chocolate, the exotic banana, or the even the acceptable vanilla, but new ground must be broken on occasion *STOP*

Taste tests have not yet begun but once I commence to the task, results will be reported here. *STOP*

Wish me luck, I'm goin' in. *STOP*

Regards,
-Slappy

*(editorial comment: His name is really Richard. The fellas have some odd monikers that they use when referencing each other while discussing things of an important nature such as camping, crabbing, or the consumption of a Moon Pie. Richard is Slappy.)

Tony shot back this reply toot-sweet:

Tony wrote:
If someone knows of a retailer that sells banana Moon Pies in my locale, please let me know. I favor that flavor, but Wal-Mart sells only the chocolate ones.

As far as you tasting your newly-discovered flavors, I have this to say:

Strawberry: Child's play.

Lemon: A bit adventurous.

Orange: Are you out of your mind?!!! It's an insult to your colon! Just say "NO!"

--Julia "Pappy" Child

*(editorial comment: Tony is Pappy.)

Well, Richard rapidly set to and laid out his review. . .as soon as he got back from vacation. (Did I mention that “speedy” is not one of the points of the Scout Law? Neither is “honest.”)


Richard wrote on June 26, 2006:
Partial results of Moon Pie tests:

The Lemon was first. I was sure to have a clean palate upon which to work. The fragrance was strong as was the flavor. It was firm yet yielding. The flavor reminded me of lemon sugar cookies once obtained at Hamner's Country Cupboard some years prior. The overall experience was good. In the Chocolate, Banana, Vanilla (CBV) Scale, I put it slightly above vanilla. High praise I know but I was pleasantly surprised.

The Strawberry was next. Emboldened by my Lemon experience I rushed in with gusto normally reserved for the first taste of Bob's Jalapeno chips on a camp out. Nonplussed by my first taste I repeated the process only to find myself wanting. Its aroma was strong but the flavor was... lacking. This angered me, the petulance of this
snack treat was masked only by it's insolence! This Moon Pie mocked me and I would have none of it. My $.47 be-[jiggered] this Pie was not going to get the best of me! I finished the remains of this impostor and gave the wrapper what for, I can tell you. It knew the sting of my boot and no mistake.

This left the Orange Moon Pie. Tony's warning about said Pie has taken on new meaning since the "Strawberry Incident". It traveled home with me and sits in my refrigerator still. A showdown of sorts has commenced. Have no doubt my friends, I fear no Moon Pie but
yet... it lingers.

I have told myself it's because I've been too busy. Days are full keeping up with the young'uns and Vacation Bible School has occupied my nights. It's late when I get home. Even tonight, as I walked through the house turning off lights, locking doors and the like, I found myself wanting a snack but... no. Before this week is through, the Orange Moon Pie and I will have it out. But I don't want to enter this angry or with my hopes at unrealistic levels.

I hear you: "You're overreacting, it's nothing" and you may be right, you teachers, money managers, and accountants for what you're worth. And yet... "The Strawberry Incident" haunts me.

-e.e. slappy

Tony’s reply was close to immediate. (Did I mention the thing about speedy? Well, he’s normally not, but this whole Moon Pie thing really lit a fire under him. He doesn’t cotton to those new-fangled ideas—or flavors.)


Tony wrote on June 27:

Richard,

The lemon sounds to be just what I would expect, and I'm glad that you placed it above vanilla (the Shemp of Moon-Pies). *(editorial comment: If you don't know the lowliness of the 4th Stooge--Shemp--then you are probably not married to an Eagle Scout--or even a real man. You might need to check your spouse's pulse. I have yet to meet a male who does not like the Three Stooges. Shemp's name is used only ever to show derision and loathing for anything substandard and only to be tolerated as the last possible option.) I believe, based on your evaluation, that I shall rank my Moon-Pie preferences thusly: B, C, L. On your word alone, I will accept it as worthy
of bearing the pseudo-cellophane packaging imprinted with the words "Moon-Pie."

Your reflections of the strawberry flavor are a bit disappointing to me. As strawberry is my favorite flavor -- I've had a strawberry cake for my birthday for as long as I can remember -- I was hoping that it would be a contender for second place, thus creating a
ranking of B, S, C, L. I do not doubt your results, but feel compelled to try the flavor myself -- not out of a desire to validate your findings through scientific method, but rather out of morbid curiosity.

And now for the meat of this letter: the orange "moon-pie." (Note the lower-case letters, signifying my wariness of this [illegitimate member] of the Moon-Pie family.) Richard, you most certainly are not over-reacting. I fully understand your current situation, and can not say
that I would be doing differently were I in your shoes. Here is what I would do if I were you, but feel free to make your own choices:

1. View the orange concoction as a worthy opponent. As you open the refrigerator door, keep one eye on it as you search for whatever item caused you to go there. Perhaps it would not be out of the question to equate your relationship with this demon-pastry as to that of the U. S. A. to the former U. S. S. R. during the decades of the Cold War, and let's hope the tension you experience does not go on for that long. Admit to it that you see its strengths, but that you are more than capable of annihilating it, should the need arise. Yes, you can take care of yourself, and the two of you will come to a fragile truce.
Or,
2. Declare your arrogant superiority over the wafer, and refuse to waste your time with taste-testing horse [poo]. Throw it out, with flare and style if you so wish, and tell it that you are the victor, so says you! Or perhaps you could [this line removed due to gross-out factor] set it on fire, and then toss it under the foot of one of the elephants that you see whilst visiting the zoo with your kids. DO NOT allow the remnants to enter the Galveston Bay watershed, as I do not want any crabs feasting on the vile matter.

Best of luck to you and yours.

At this point Mike and Bryan decide to wade into the fray and weigh in with entries of their own which read as follows :

Mike wrote:

You know? I like muffins

Bryan wrote:

After a long day's work – it's always an hour later out here – I could barely get my brain to follow this story, except for maybe the "it was firm yet yielding" bit. Let me think about this and get back to you on the weekend when my brain will be able to digest information. Meanwhile, you must get some ginger and cleanse your palate before
you tackle the orange moon-pie. Taste it you must...and why don't you videotape the experience and stick it on Youtube.com for us to view.

Tony took umbrage to Bryan suggesting ginger as the palate cleanser of choice. But that, my friends, is a story for another day. . .like tomorrow maybe?

*Editorial Disclaimer: Permission was neither asked nor received to change actual wording, but girlie colors WERE added, and verbage was changed [signified by these brackets] to keep this a family friendly blog. (Even though no real subversive language was used, most of us ARE ladies here). No Moon Pies were consumed by the editor during the writing of this blog. But my husband had one banana and one chocolate with a glass of milk. (And allow me to mention right here and now that the man has lost 33 pounds since June. . .don't you HATE him??? Let's hear it for the Moon Pie diet.)

And now for something completely different. . .

Okay. . .I'm not normally one to go throwin' around my husband's "credentials". . .and you may take that however you choose. . .but he is a funny guy. This is hidden to much of the free and/or captive world by his quiet, shy, introverted, I'm-not-interested-in-you-because-we-do-not-share-a-blood-or-name-tie demeanor. We are the most unlikely of pairings. . .and we were told so. . .by a therapist. HOWEVER,that does not change the fact that he amuses me on many more occasions than I can recount. Much like me being amused at myself more than anyone else is, it might hold true to me being amused at my husband more than anyone else is.

That being said, and by way of explanation, allow me to tell you that Tony has exactly, precisely, FOUR (4,IV, one less than 5, one more than 3--add your own Monty Python reference here) friends. I guess he sort of really has five, but one of them married his sister (that was almost a deal breaker right there) so he doesn't count anymore--having the whole related thing going on. His three BEST friends are Eagle Scouts.

I had NO IDEA about Eagle Scouts before I dated and married one. It's the hoitiest-toitiest-snobbiest club of men you can imagine. It's jocularity, [WELL-DESERVED] hubris, and a job well done all heartily mixed together, run amok, and dosed with liberal amounts of testosterone, wood smoke, and dirt.

As a newcomer to the state, my running joke was that I'd never met anyone more conceited than a Texan until I actually MOVED to Texas and met Aggies. Now imagine the rip in the space time continuum (can you tell I'm married to an Eagle Scout yet?) were the three COMBINED. Thankfully, all of the Eagle Scouts I know graduated from the University of Houston except for one. . .and he graduated from a school IN Houston before graduating from another school too.

Anywho. . .my husband and his cronies have gadded about on more than one campout/cookout/tube down the river (where he lost our LAST $20 for that month)/push a broken down vehicle/invent new games/fish for crustaceans/play poker for chips/drink gallons of Kool-aid and smoke cigars the wives don't know about trips than one can imagine. They don't get together as much anymore due to a total of 4 wives, 8 children, and the price of gas, so they must resort to e-mail. Most of the time, I am none-the-wiser. But, on occasion, I am allowed to peer into the great chasm of Eagle Scoutedness and comraderie to take a look at what I'm missing.

Over the next day or two, I will take a break from the estrogen heavy blogging that goes on here and regale you with a brief example of their humor as it relates to a confection called the Moon Pie.

If you are not southern, nor have you ever been to the south, there are many things you might not know actually exist on the planet. Ever seen Spanish peanuts suspended in hard-as-a-rock, pinkish-red candy and shaped like a puck? Well, I can tell you where to find 'em. Did you see "Dances with Wolves?" Remember the guy eating eggs out of a jar? They stuck in his beard and he spewed them forth with every word he said. I've seen those eggs. They probably came from the same batch. . .and they are PICKLED, for heaven's sakes. I've also seen post-mortem pig's feet in the same condition. . .on a counter. . .in a gas station. . .owned by a relative.

Not far from those humblest of southern delicacies will one find the actual, name brand Moon Pie. Now growing up, I was often allowed to choose treats from establishments that boasted a full array of southern cuisine including the aforementioned dairy, animal, and nut products. It was normally 150 degrees outside--my feet were normally bare (the soles of which are still permanently hardened by walking atop boiling hot asphalt to get to said establishment)--and the array they had was always cheap. I was normally not a fan of the Moon Pie. I had the occasional chocolate, but I preferred Push-Ups or Jack's Lemon cookies, or a Baby Ruth for my quarter. Yes, I said a QUARTER!!!

My husband still cringes to think of the RUR-AL-NESS of the girl who gave birth to his Texan offspring. . .but he cannot deny his hidden link to my upbringing, because he dearly loves a banana Moon Pie--with or without an RC (which he also enjoys from time to time.)

We have searched in vain, in Houston, for many years to find a banana Moon Pie. We have looked high. We have looked low. One time my unsuspecting mother suggested I just buy a box of Little Debbie banana moon pie type pastry. Katie, bar the door!!!! I dared not even mention it to the man. His blood pressure would have sky-rocketed and he could have gotten his own pie from the actual Moon itself.

The hunt continued. On trips home in lesser known parts of Texas and Louisiana, I'd sometimes happen across a double-decker banana Moon Pie. You will find those in the same place you find a Cotton ICED (NOT GLAZED) honey bun. I'd buy two and surprise him. But nothing prepared my unsuspecting husband for the treat that lay in store during summer '06. . .

My Kids

Well, I have had lots to ponder on this day five years hence from one of the greatest tragedies our country has ever seen. Part of that pondering is explaining pieces of it to my girl. She was just over three years old on September 11, 2001--Thad one day shy of three months. Victoria doesn't remember a whole lot. . .not even how upset she was that she didn't get to watch her videos like normal that day. So as the kiddos are brushing teeth and getting ready to bed down, Tony and I are preparing to watch part of a movie. . .on a school night no less. . .and I thought I might just tack on these totally inappropriate yet totally appropriate images of my kids. There is no trace of fear in them. Their world was affected without their knowledge. They will not know the world I lived in. But we are doing what parents all over this world are doing--trying to keep the daily round of our lives as stable and safe and happy as possible.

So on that note. . .

Here is a picture of Victoria's 8th birthday cake. She requested flip-flops and I obliged.



And the boy lost a tooth one week ago tomorrow. He was thrilled beyond measure to actually be "first" for once--'cause even though Victoria lost her first tooth about 2 1/2 years ago. . .she was almost 6 when hers came out and he is barely 5.



Enjoy your night. Hug your kids. Kiss your husband. Drink a real Coke. Thank God for the grace and small wonders and happinesses he grants us every single day we draw breath.

A Very Special Gift

Sandy in Canada has sent me one of "those" kinds of gifts. . .you know, the kind that when you open it you sort of take in a quick breath and say, "Oh!," as if you'd just walked around a corner and found a million roses all in bloom. It looks like a very humble, unassuming blue ceramic plaque with a childlike drawing of an upside down house. But not only was it chosen with love. . .it also had a very special link to my family history about which Sandy knew nothing.

What Sandy does not know is that my great aunt, Georgia Beatrice, whom we called simply, Aunt Bea, owned a cafe in Shreveport, Louisiana during the later years of the Great Depression. She was the next oldest girl after my Granny, Rubye Mae.

Anyway--she owned a cafe (pronounced by EVERYONE on that side of the family as "kuh-fay"), and it was near the railroad tracks in Shreveport. Her cafe was one of the ones "tagged" by hobos as being a place they could work for food. She would have them wash dishes, or chop wood, or carry groceries, or sweep up in exchange for a hot meal. It may have even been dished up with some free advice knowing her. But the name of her "kuh-fay" was found on rail cars along with the town in which it was located.

So. . .when I turned over my humble, little blue ceramic plaque with the simple upside down house on it and read the story and the meaning of the symbol painted on the front, well, it took my breath away.



Not only was it a lovely compliment, but it bound me even tighter to a history that is mine and that is shared with the Williamson side of the family. Aunt Bea never had any children, and she died at a ripe old age very much alone in the world except for her remaining sisters and my mother. But she helped those who needed it in a time when lots of people needed it. And this plaque has traveled all the way from Western Canada to remind me to do the same.

I've been tagged by a book thing

Okay. . .don't really know about all this tagging business, but I'm willing to play along before bed. I was tagged by Jessica, and here is my entry from p.123, after line5, the next three sentences from gods in Alabama. If you missed my review, go here.

"The homecoming crown. And yes, in this fantasy, I inherited Jim Beverly. He mainly stood by me at school events where I was being feted and whispered things in my ear like 'Rose-Pop, you are so different now, so sweet and fine!' "

That's that.

Three of Three

Well, I was going to put Victoria's b-day pics here--seeing as how they are a month late, but they aren't on here yet. . .and then I was going to put something Tony wrote on here. . .but he's not done with it yet. . .so I'm gonna leave you hanging. . .there are two other posts for tonight that ought to keep you busy for awile.

Two of Three

Below is a quote that has passed in and out of education circles for the past few years. It is a powerful, strong, true quote. It is on the wall in my classroom by my desk so that when I think to look at it, I am reminded of the intensity of my job. It was "dressed up" for the classroom by the addition of a couple of key words.

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in my classroom. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make a child's life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a child humanized or de-humanized." Haim Ginott

I thought I had put it on my blog before. . .I did a search and didn't find it, so I will put it on for the first or second time with the following changes.

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element in my home. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make my family's life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and my family humanized or de-humanized." Haim Ginott

Very overwhelming, very intense, very scary words. And very true.

One of Three

Well, not quite sure what to name this post, so I'm just divin' on in.

I read gods in Alabama this weekend. . .twice. It was written by the gal who DID change her name on her social security card but the DMV lost her paperwork and arrested her and humiliated her and made her be near an unsanitary toilet. If you read my post the other day, then you know the story. Her name is Joshilyn Jackson, and she is a very, very good writer. The book is a very, very good book.

I tend to inhale books whole. . .like a first piece of pizza when you're really hungry. *Snap*--gone.

I read the book jacket first, then the foreward/aknowledgements/prologue/dedication/whatever they've got goin' on. THEN I read the first chapter. . .then I read the last chapter. . .then I read what's in between. Now, this drives my very linear husband absolutely slap up the wall. It comforts me.

I tend to get really, really, really wrapped up in a book, so I need to know a little bit of what is going to happen first. I have even, in my old age, taken to going to a website that tells you the end of a movie to see if I want to watch it or not. I don't care who says what. . .if the ending is not "happy" then I'm not watchin' it. That being said, I watched The Notebook with Tony last weekend. . .it has a very happy ending. *SPOILER* WARNING* DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING OF THE MOVIE THE NOTEBOOK. Even though they both die in the end. . .they are old and have altzheimers and a bad heart and get to die simultaneously in the same bed holding hands. . .I only hope mine and Tony's passing is so painless and coordinated.

Movies, books, they affect me. . .I spend the next several days pondering plot points, details, twists and turns. I get very clear images of characters and settings in my mind. The first book I ever did this with was The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder. . .the next was Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt. . .I can pretty much name the books that have made a lasting impression on me, but I'll stop there.

Anyway--Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe was a movie that did that to me. . .and so was the book. And this book is a lot like that book. . .very southern, very dysfunctional family, very clear cut reasons for what happened to what and whom in a very murky way. I recommend it. Rated "R" for very colorful language, adult situations, and some descriptive violence. . .but if you need a good read--this is it.

Her acknowledgments cracked me up. . .and you know that's a good start. She says in them, "It's almost a given that a Southern writer needs a savage and spectacularly dysfunctional family, but I am afraid mine has failed me. Every one of them is disappointingly mentally stable and supportive. . ."

Go. Read. Enjoy.

Gone to Galveston

See ya'll on Monday.