Some Things I Learned in Texas

1. It is practically a crime against humanity that I have not: learned how to two-step, Texas or otherwise; eaten crab; or seen the musical Oklahoma!

2. I REALLY like fish tacos.

3. Some of the craziest people around hang out at hospitals at 10:30 at night. It’s best to avoid eye contact with them. Especially if they’re yelling.

4. The further south you go, the warmer the water is. At least for a little while. I’m sure that people on the northern tip of Antarctica would beg to differ.

5. I really should live in Texas. The benefits to doing so are practically endless, and include: more money, and no driving in the snow.

6. Some clubs in Shreveport, Louisiana are open till 6. In. The. Morning. The drive back to Gladewater, Texas SUCKS at 6. In. The. Morning.

7. I’m slightly afraid of roller coasters. So is my red-haired girl.

8. A backyard swimming pool is practically a must. If you live in a climate where 100+ degrees is normal.

9. I should: learn how to two-step, Texas or otherwise; eat crab; see the musical Oklahoma!

 

Thankful for…#4,5,6

My kids. Of course. They’re not cookie cutter kids, thank God, by ANY stretch of the imagination. But, they’re my kids, and they’re good kids, and they’re going to rock the world.

 

Thankful for…#3

Having enough. And by enough, meaning enough that I can share with others. Maybe not a lot, and maybe at the expense of my kids’ college/therapy funds, but enough just the same.

 

Thankful for…#2

Friends. In all the shapes, and sizes, and ways that they come to us.

 

Thankful for…#1

Last night, we got horrible news from my parents: their dog, Snoopy, who they’ve had for at least 10 years, has cancer and will be put down today. In the sadness that comes from such news, I am thankful for this: my kids, if nothing else, are really deep feelers. They cried. And they cried some more. And they laughed. And, somehow, in the midst of all the sadness, there was this: Snoopy was a great dog. A great friend. And we’ll miss him.

 

Facebook

Deep in the woods there was a clear fountain with water that reflected like silver. One day Narcissus stumbled upon that fountain, leaned over to take a drink, saw his own image in the mirror of clear water, mistook it for a beautiful water spirit in the fountain, and immediately fell in love – with himself. He was so completely taken by this image in the mirror that he lost all concept of time or rest or hunger. Enraptured by himself, he eventually withered away and died.

Narcissus would have loved Facebook.

Facebook lets anyone with Internet access construct a little army of pseudo friends (531 friends on Facebook? I don’t even know that many people in real life!), pull wall posts from Status Shuffle so as to appear both smarter and funnier than one may be in real life, and post only those pictures which show that we are, indeed, highly photogenic. Narcissus’ silver lake, measured in pixels. Facebook is designed more as an outlet to showcase every detail of one’s life than to stay in touch, as the social networking moniker implies.

Where things truly fall apart is the very wide open status question: What’s on your mind?

When, in the history of all mankind, have we had the opportunity, nay the very platform, to share all the minutiae of our very existence, as though everybody cares?

Guess what? Some of us don’t.

I do care, deeply, that your son just made it home safely from Iraq. For the third time. I do care that you just brought your first (or third!) child into the world, and all is well. I do care that your husband finally got the promotion we all knew he deserved years ago, and that the two of you are now making your way back home – all the way across the country. Good luck to you both; let me know you get there safely.

However, when So-and-So just finished a load of laundry, cleaned her bathroom, and fed her kids, I can’t help but think: Congratulations, honey, you lived your life! But, Naricissus would be proud. Because, really, are you so self-involved that you think all 531 of your friends want to read about that?

Very likely, most of them just finished a load of laundry, too, but felt no overwhelming desire to post as much for the whole world to see.

Not surprisingly, a study published in September 2008 by researchers at the University of Georgia found Facebook could be used as a means of gauging narcissism. In the first analysis of its kind, researchers observed that the quantity of friends and wall posts people amassed on their profiles was indicative of how narcissistic they were in daily life. I’m not condemning all 400 million + users of being narcissists; I am a user, too, after all. But when the line is blurred between what is public, and what should remain private, slightly self-absorbed doesn’t begin to cover it.

And I can’t help but wonder, how would Narcissus have responded to: What’s on your mind?

 

Make Two

OK, Memorial Day is done, and can be called a total success. Thanks, in large part to this pie. It really, truly is yummy, and I made two, but on two different days, and I beg of you not to make the same mistake. If you make this pie for a crowd, even if you have another dessert, make two. It’s the easiest thing in the world to make, and you won’t have to beat people off with a stick if you do.

Lemonade Pie

Starting Line-Up (this is for one pie, not two, so double it!)

Graham cracker crust

8 oz. cream cheese, softened

14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

3/4 cup undiluted lemonade concentrate

8 oz. tub Cool whip, defrosted

Yellow food coloring, completely optional

Play-by-Play

1. In a large mixing bowl, beat the cream cheese until smooth.

2. Gradually add condensed milk, beating until well blended.

3. Beat in lemonade concentrate.

4. Gently and completely fold in Cool Whip and food coloring.

5. Pour into pie crust, and refrigerate until set, about two hours.

6. Enjoy!

 

It’s Official

Summer has begun. Officially now, for most of you, since Memorial Day is tomorrow. For me and my family, though, the official start of summer is what brought this blog to fruition. Our misadventures. Those times we try to have fun, and any normal family could carry off with nary a hiccup.

But, we are not a normal family. Not really. Oh, sure, we have 2 parents, 3 kids, 3 cats, 2 hamsters, and a fish. We live in a house on a corner lot. We drive our SUV’s and trucks to work, some of us daily. We watch too much TV, and we try to eat dinner together every night. But there, it seems, is where the normalcy stops.

And the misadventures begin.

Today should have gone well enough. After all, it was just a hike in Black Canyon National Park. A place we’ve been at least 10 times. But honestly, the last time we went was about 5 years ago.

And that’s where the trouble began. How was I, who pays to get into some National Park every year, supposed to know that, this year, park fees went up? In some cases, doubled? So instead of the seven bucks I was used to paying to get in BCNP, I had to ante up 15. No problem. I only had 11 dollars in my pocket, but surely one of my kids had five bucks on them, right? Right? Hello? Is this thing on? OK, well maybe the park will take a check, right? Of course, said the nice ranger who was clearly having her patience tested with us.

Except that I couldn’t find my checkbook. COULD NOT find it. My purse is only so big. My Jeep, too. So maybe a younger, fresher set of eyes? Of course. Jacob found the checkbook in about 4 seconds flat. Show-off. Sadly, finding the checkbook was not the Holy Grail, as the checkbook was completely devoid of checks. Ahem. OK. No problem, we’ll just run into town, find an ATM, and get cash.

30 minutes later, 60 dollars right-now richer, and we’re set. Except that I see, as we’re driving back into the park, that an annual pass would only be eighty. Eighty bucks to get into any National Park or Monument for a year. Weeeeeeeeeelllll, I had the sixty, plus the eleven that I had to begin with. Hey, guys, are you sure you don’t have any money???

Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? With no response to the money question, I did what no other mother on God’s green earth would do: I had Brittany grab Megan’s purse, and I went through it AND lifted ten bucks. Off my daughter. Who was asleep. I know, I know.

Anyway, eighty bucks and one annual parks pass later, we were on our way. Except that right about this time, the Taco Bell we had for lunch, instead of the lunch I spent about an hour this morning packing, hit Brittany like a ton of bricks. Taco Bell’ll do that, you know. Word to the wise? Don’t have Taco Bell when you’re planning on doing a 2-mile loop hike. Or ever.

Brittany’s a trouper, though, and so decided that the 2-mile loop was going to be done, gastrointestinal distress be damned. She’s like that, my girl, and it’ll be the death of her, I swear.

We  set off on our merry way, and the Oak Flat Loop was gorgeous. I’d never done the whole thing. Last time I tried, I saw a bear about 1/2 mile in, and turned around. Misadventures may define my very existence, but I still value my life, you see. Back to the hike, though. Gorgeous. Wildflowers just in bloom, very cool shadows on the wall of the canyon, my kids not tripping and tumbling down the mountain. Brittany only had to be carried for about the last half-mile of the hike, and I gotta tell you, I wasn’t the one with her on my back.

But, we made it back. Finally. And some of you ushered in summer with a camping trip. Or a movie. Or a barbeque with your friends.

For us, it’s all about the misadventures. Happy summer!

 

Cornbread…Of the Sweet-Goes-Great-with-BBQ Chicken Variety

Everybody’s got their own idea of cornbread, I guess. I grew up not really caring for it, actually. It always seemed so…gritty. Corn-mealy, if you can imagine such a thing. And then, I had the cornbread at Frontier Pies. Smooth-ish. More like cake than cornbread, really. Yummy. Delicious. Like pick up my chin and wipe the drool off my face kind of good. And for years, I was perfectly content to just eat the cornbread (and little else!) at Frontier Pies.

Then, alas, they closed.

And I searched for YEARS for a recipe that would even come close to FP’s. I even asked for theirs before they closed their doors. And I never got it, but I found one that’s close, and tweaked it till it became the goodness that it is now.

Starting Line-Up:

3/4 cup cornmeal

2 1/4 cup flour

1 cup sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup oil

5 tablespoons melted butter

1 1/2 tablespoons honey

3 eggs, beaten

1 7/8 cup milk

Play-by-Play

1. Preheat oven to 350. Lightly grease 9×13 pan.

2. Combine cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in medium bowl.

3. Combine oil, butter, honey, eggs, and milk. Stir into cornmeal mixture until just blended.

4. Pour into greased pan. Bake for 35 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve warm with honey butter (1/2 cup butter, whipped, mixed with 2 tablespoons honey).

5. Enjoy!

 

Neatness

Once upon a time, I was a neat person. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m still a neat person, and lots of people really like me. Or kind of do, anyway. But, once, I was neat, and clean.

And then, I had three children. And those children grew up. And started making messes. Some were small, like Starburst wrappers left between the cushions of a couch, or socks that almost made it into the laundry basket, but not quite. Others are much, much bigger. Like the mess at the top of the stairs that is their living space, and is starting to invade the downstairs, which is everybody’s living space. And while it would be nice if Rubbermaid made giant-size jewelry boxes, with nice little cubbies and slots for all the “stuff” that makes up a childhood, alas, they don’t. There also isn’t, to my knowledge anyway, a little fairy that’s going to come along, wave her little wand, and take care of the mess for us.

So, I come to you all as one who likes to think I can be organized, but know, in my heart of hearts that I’m not, with a simple plea: what is your best idea for organizing all the stuff that is a childhood?