A Little Civility, Please

Question: When a man and a woman approach a revolving door at the same time, who should go through the door first?

Question: When someone gives you a gift, what should you do in response?

Question: Do good manners even matter anymore?

I think it’s time to pull out my Miss Manners persona because, frankly, I think some people need a refresher course.

And I’m not talking about my kids.

Now, our girls might not be able to tell you which fork to use first at a formal dinner party (but then again, they just might), but they can certainly tell you what kind of behavior is appropriate in public. Or not.

In just the past week I have noticed so many forms of bad behavior in public that I really think some lessons are in order. Maybe instead of talking about Healthcare all the time, we could start a new public debate on appropriate behavior.

I first noticed this growing problem last week when Michael Jordan was inducted into the NBA Hall of Fame. Now, listen up, kids. When you’re being given an honor—most likely the highest honor of your life—you need to put on an air of humility, even if you have to fake it. And you need to receive your honor with grace. This is not the time to go bashing your former boss.

Michael, didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you don’t have something nice to say about someone, don’t say anything at all?

And then last weekend, Serena Williams totally lost her cool during a match in the U.S. Open. Serena, Serena, Serena. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Really now. Tennis used to be the sport of the civil, the mannerly. You’ve suddenly made it into the sport of the classless and disrespectful.

You know who I’m going to pick on next, right? Joe Wilson, the congressman from South Carolina, during President Obama’s speech last week shouted out, “You lie!” in front of the entire Congress. Whether or not you agree with Mr. Wilson’s sentiments, you have to agree that this was not the time nor the place for his feelings to be made known.

I was taught to respect the office of the President, whether or not I agree with him. I was also taught that the American Congress is different from the British Parliament in that we do not yell out to one another or call each other names. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to see a little more friendly banter between our Congresspeople, but that’s just not how it’s done here. We try to be civil.

Joe, your shout out to the President was not civil nor respectful.

O.K., last one. (Can you believe all of these happened within the past week?!) Kanye West. Completely dissed Taylor Swift in front of the entire nation. That poor girl didn’t know what happened to her. And neither did Beyonce. Both women were put on the spot, and not in a good way. I assure you, every person at the VMA awards was after publicity, but not the kind of publicity that Kanye West showered on Taylor Swift or Beyonce.

Kanye, embarrassing another person, especially on national television, is never considered polite. I guess Joe Wilson could take a lesson from that one too.

See, here’s the thing. My parents taught me, and it’s what I’m trying to teach my own daughters, that good manners have everything to do with the other person—-making the other guy look or feel good, even if it makes you look or feel bad. When you hurt someone’s reputation or when you make someone uncomfortable or when you put your own reputation ahead of someone else’s, it’s just plain rude.

Good manners puts the other guy first. Always.

One thing all of these people do have in common is this: they all apologized.

After the fact.

And, I gotta say, that’s disappointing too. Because if they had been taught better manners, none of this would have happened and no apologies would have been necessary.

Travel Tuesday - Washington DC, The Final Word

This is the last word on our trip to Washington this summer. If you want to read my previous posts, you can click here and here and here.

Day 3
Guess what. It was hot again. Really hot. Who ever thought going to Washington DC in August was a good idea?

Believe me, we figured out pretty quickly why Congress takes a recess in August. And it's not to give the tourists a break from all the long lines (although that was one of the side-benefits we liked). It's just too darn hot to be in that city in August! Nancy Pelosi's linen suits would get all wrinkled in that heat and humidity, and we can't have that now, can we?

Not to be deterred by the heat, we headed out early. We had scheduled an 11:30 Capitol tour, so we thought we'd check out the Library of Congress first. I remember visiting this building when I was in high school, but I had forgotten how spectacular it was.

Here's just one example of the beautiful mosaic work that surrounds most of the walls and ceiling:

"Shelley" . . . get it?!

As book lovers, we all fell in love with the Library of Congress--especially the special display of Thomas Jefferson's library. Talk about amazing! There we were with all of his books; I felt like we could almost touch history (but we didn't dare!). We didn't have time to take a tour, but we all agreed that next time we're in Washington that would be at the top of our list.

Know why we didn't have more time to spend at the Library of Congress? Because we had to zip across the street to the Capitol Building for our 11:30 tour.

I've already written a little bit about our Capitol tour here (go to the section labeled "Bad"). This was two hours of our lives that we'll never get back, and I'd really rather not rehash that experience, so I'll just leave it at that. Except to mention that once we finished with Tonythemonotonetourguide, we were starving, so we headed to the Capitol Building cafeteria where we spent $45 for a pretty mediocre lunch--B and I even shared a sandwich and we still almost had to leave our firstborn!

We all wished we had stayed back at the Library of Congress.

Anyway, fed and relatively happy, we headed down the street to the National Archives. I guess you could say we were taking the "National Treasure" tour that day since so many of the places we visited were in that movie. I wanted to see the Declaration of Independence because my family lore has it that one of the signers of the Declaration is my great-great-great-great-great (yes, five greats) grandfather--Charles Carroll of Carrollton, MD. Funny thing is, he's also highlighted in "National Treasure." (Of course, my husband would quibble with that family lore, but until it's proven otherwise, I'm sticking to my story.)

Because lines were short, we were able to zip in and out of the Archives pretty quickly. It's definitely worth it to take a look at the most famous documents in American history. Very cool (in more ways than one). And, once again, free. Plus, they have one of the best gift shops in DC.

After the Archives, we were at a bit of a loss as to what to do next, so we started walking toward the White House. But, have I mentioned it was hot? Just a few blocks down the street, we needed to get inside again, and since we were near the Old Post Office Pavilion, we ducked inside to get some relief from the heat.

In my research before the trip I had read that you could get a great view of Washington if you went to the top of the observation tower in the Old Post Office Pavilion. (And, yes, it's free!) So we braved the old, rickety elevator that wasn't air conditioned and made it to the top. Kind of a fun detour and definitely a great view. This picture was taken from up there--you can see the roofs of the Federal Triangle buildings in the foreground.


Our last stop for the day was the White House. We had seen the south side of the building on our bike tour, but I wanted the rest of the family to see the north side. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, everyone was SO hot and SO crabby, that they didn't exactly appreciate the view. Needless to say, the Christmas card picture didn't happen. 'Nuff said.

Day 4
On our last day in Washington DC, B looked at me and said, "I feel like how I felt on the last day at Disney World." That pretty much sums it up. Tired. Exhausted. Hot. And starting to get ready to go home.

But we had a plan and we were determined to execute the plan if it killed us. It very nearly did.

Before we left, we decided that each family member could choose one thing that they really wanted to see or do. Mine was the National Archives . . . and the bus tour . . . and the bike tour. It pays to be the trip planner.

Abby's choice was to see the American History Museum of the Smithsonian. Maggie wanted to see the International Spy Museum. So those were on our list for the last day.

The American History Museum is really fun. We found all of the wonderful treasures that we wanted to see like Dorothy's ruby red slippers from "The Wizzard of Oz," the original flag that "The Star Spangled Banner" was written about, and, best of all, Julia Child's kitchen. Abby was our tour guide that day, and I'd say we pretty much saw every square inch of that museum. Again, this was one of those days when August played to our advantage because the lines were minimal. I really wouldn't want to be there over Spring Break.

We started melting down on our way to the Spy Museum. Literally. Hunger and heat were taking their toll on us. I think we would have killed each other if we weren't actually in public. Thank goodness for the cafe where we got some lunch and a little respite from our day--it saved our lives.

Next, the International Spy Museum. We had heard about this from some friends who had been to Washington earlier in the summer, so Maggie decided this would be her pick. I had reserved tickets online before we left, but we showed up about an hour early. Thankfully, they let us in.

This is an interesting museum (and one of the very few places we actually had to pay for admission) based on the CIA and FBI and spying of all kinds. Kind of made me want to start a new career. Many of the displays are interactive--the kids seem to love it--but it's a little narrow in places, and crowded, so you can't get near all of the screens. Even so, it was fun. If there's a little James Bond in you, check out the Spy Museum--you'll enjoy it.

Believe me, after that busy, crazy, hot, go-go-go week we were ready to head home. After a fun night in Grove City, PA, visiting with some very dear college friends, we finally made it home. To our beloved doggie, our own comfy beds, and mountains of laundry.

Even though it was a great trip, I'm with Dorothy. . . . There's no place like home.

Choosing Public School - Part 2

If you were here on Friday, you read about how we came to the decision to put our kids in public school. Today I want to talk about some of the benefits we have experienced because of that decision.

Like I said on Friday, this is our experience, but if these posts help someone formulate a new perspective or understand our choice a little better, that’s great too. I’d love to know if that’s you, so please leave a comment.

I also said on Friday that we know we’re blessed to live where we live and have the schools we have at our disposal. But I guess that’s why we chose to live here. We knew early on—probably even before we had kids—that God would call us to be involved with public schooling, and so we knew we wanted to live where the schools were excellent.

After all, the point of school is the education, right? And, boy, have our kids had the educational opportunities. Not only have they had outstanding teachers, they have had opportunities for gifted learning that they might not have had in a smaller, private school. Since third grade, all three of our daughters have been in gifted programs for reading. Once they entered junior high school, they have all been in advanced math programs.

And high school. Don’t even get me started on high school—it’s so much harder than when I was in school! This year my sophomore is already taking one AP class, and my senior has five AP classes. My high school didn’t offer even one AP class, so they already have a huge advantage in that respect. They would probably say that they’re already smarter than their mom—and they’d be right!

But what if your kid needs help of a different sort? What if your child needs special help with reading, math, or speech? What if your first language isn’t English? Public schools have specialists who are ready to help with those kinds of issues too. And what I have found is that these specialists really care about students. It is a beautiful thing to watch dedicated teachers work to help all children excel.

Of course, private schools offer many of these same programs, so what’s the big deal? What’s the big difference? Well, this takes me back to the salt-and-light principle I talked about on Friday.

I asked each one of my girls this weekend if they were glad they had gone to public school. All three said yes (acknowledging, however, that they didn’t know what it would be like to be in a Christian school). But as they thought more about it, they all said something to the effect of “I get to see how other people live.” I think this is the key, and a great benefit of public school.

Of course, this is where a lot of parents get scared about public school. I talked about the fear factor on Friday, but here’s where I’ll borrow a line from “Julie and Julia”: “No fear, Julia (or, in this case, parents). No fear.” B and I determined early on that we wouldn’t live in fear of the unknown. We’d just move ahead with what we thought God wanted us to do.

You know, life is messy, and sometimes people live messy lives. Sometimes kids see that people who live lives that are different from theirs, maybe even messy lives, are not lives that they would want to live. My kids have seen first-hand that living a life without Jesus is one that lacks peace, joy, and fulfillment.

But also, they get exposed to different ideas—ideas that challenge them to take a stand for what they believe in. Ideas that make them explore more deeply what they do believe. I would say that nearly every day my girls are challenged in this way, either by a teacher or a classmate, and I see that as a positive thing, not as something to be feared. I want my girls to be able to take a stand for their faith or to be able to say why their life is different from a classmate who doesn’t have the same faith. We have had amazing conversations around the dinner table based on what they’ve experienced at school.

When I asked Kate what she saw as a benefit of public school she said, “I’ve met so many people at my school, and I get to see how they view things—I see how the world sees things. I feel like God might be calling me to minister in some way, so it’s important to have experiences with the people God wants me to reach.”

Another one of my girls pointed out that there are still lots of Christians at the public school which provides great support for them.

On Friday I mentioned that at first we put our kids in public schools so that we—B and I—could meet our neighbors and “do life” with them. What a blessing this has been for us personally. I think that having our kids in public school has opened up so many doors with our neighbors that we might never have walked through if our kids didn’t go to the same school.

Probably the biggest blessing came a few years ago when we met a wonderful couple through one of our daughter’s classes. We hit it off and became good friends right away. They knew where we stood in our faith, and we invited them to church. They came and were interested, but not consistent in coming. Finally, one day they asked us if we would do a Bible study with them—just two couples learning more about God together. We felt so humbled and privileged to do this with our friends, and we were happy to spend those weeks studying with them.

On the last night of our study together we had the best conversation about Jesus, faith, and heaven. It was a true blessing to be able to share openly with them how we came to have faith and to have them respond positively to God.

Would we have had this opportunity if we had not intentionally placed our kids—and ourselves—in a place where we could meet and really get to know our neighbors? I’ll never know. All I can know is that we have followed God’s call to be in public school and that He has used it to be an amazing blessing to our family.

Choosing Public School - Part 1

I feel like I need to take a deep breath before I write this post. I mean, this is a topic that could really be tricky to write about. But, a couple of weeks ago this came up and a few of you asked me to do this, so I will oblige.

First, let me just say that this is our experience. Nobody else’s. Deciding where and how your own children are educated will be your experience entirely. And I’m O.K. with that. I have enough on my plate with my own little brood that I don’t need to worry about yours.

Second, I’d also like to add that much of our decision has to do with where we live, and we know that. If we lived somewhere else that didn’t have excellent public schools with excellent teachers, we would have to explore other options. But for now, we have an abundance of riches, as they say, at our disposal, and we know we are blessed to have that.

So, how did it happen that our kids ended up in public school? Way back in 1997, as Kate was heading to kindergarten, B and I did a lot of praying about what to do. We knew our options. But it seemed like the doors to those options weren’t opening very far.

There was homeschooling. Um . . . no. My temperament just was not at a place back in ’97 (or even in ’09 for that matter) that would ensure success at homeschooling. Plus, God had opened a door for me to teach a college class, which I loved, and we felt like that was not something I should give up at that time. So, for those couple of reasons, plus the fact that we didn’t feel strongly about the homeschooling option, we closed that door. (I locked it securely while B wasn’t looking, and then I threw away the key.)

There was private Christian school. Again, neither one of us felt strongly enough for this option that it seemed that door wasn’t opening very widely either. We have lots of friends who have made this choice, and they seem happy with it. It just didn’t seem like the right decision for us.

But our public school choice wasn’t made by process of elimination. It was made with lots and lots of prayer, and public school was our first choice all along.

So what things did factor into the equation? Well, obviously, the education. I mean, really, why do we put our kids in school anyway? To get educated. Sometimes they get educated in things we’d rather they not know about, if you know what I mean, but that just comes with the kid territory no matter where they go to school. Really, though, the education in our school district is one of the best in the state, so we figured we should at least give it a try.

And, honestly? I’d prefer to leave the education of my children in the hands of the professionals—people who have gone to college for many years (lots of my kids’ teachers have master’s degrees) to learn how to do this well. Me? I would be a disaster with a bulletin board. There would be nothing on the walls. My classroom would be a sad place to be. I guess that’s why I taught college—no bulletin boards.

The other factor was what I’ll call the salt-and-light factor. This gets a little complicated in some people’s minds, so let me explain first that we never expected our children, especially in elementary school, to be “missionaries” at their schools. I really believe that a child’s job in school is to learn.

But it’s another thing for us adults. B and I thought long and hard about our community, our neighbors, and the teachers we might get to know in public school. We wondered how we would meet our neighbors—I mean to really get to know them—if we didn’t rub elbows with them on a regular basis. It’s one thing to see our neighbors at a Christmas party once a year, but when you’re serving on a school committee with them or sitting next to them at an all-school picnic, you start to get to know them. So we decided that we needed to put ourselves, not just our kids, in a place where we could “do life” with our neighbors. School seemed to be the obvious place to do that.

Both B and I had a very strong sense that we could not make this decision based on fear. Fear of the unknown, of the world, of other people—none of that could come into play. This decision needed to be based on more than that.

It seems to me, as I talk to parents, that there is a lot of fear out there—some justifiable, some not. I have seen it become a huge factor in some people’s schooling decision. But God clearly commands us throughout scripture “Do not fear.” Because along with that He also says, “I am with you.”

As we prayed, B and I both felt like the "fear factor" was one of the main reasons God was telling us to choose public school. We knew that for us, trusting God in our children’s education, as we have trusted in Him all along, would be a huge step of faith. As we placed our girls in public school, we were literally placing them in the care of our heavenly Father, telling Him that we knew He could protect them there.

About 10 years ago some dear friends left our church to plant a church in Chicago. I’ll never forget the time someone asked them, “What about your kids? Will they be safe?” Their response has stuck with me all these years. He said, “Our kids are less safe in the suburbs, if we are out of God’s will, than they will ever be in the city within God’s will.”

I believe that with all my heart. My kids are less safe in any other place than right where God wants them to be. And, for us . . . for now . . . that is public school.

The benefits have been amazing. God has blessed our entire family, not just our kids, through our decision to put them in public school, and I’ll tell you more about that on Monday.

So now, how about you? How do (or did) you educate your kids? How did you make that decision? I’d really love to know, so leave a comment.

It Breaks My Heart

I heard her before I saw her.

“No, Johnny! I said no!”

“Mom,” Johnny cried. And cried. And cried. “But why? I wa-a-a-a-nt it.”

Whatever “it” was, was NOT going to make it into their shopping cart, that much I knew.

“Johnny, just be quiet. I never should have brought you with me today. You’ve been naughty since the moment we walked in this store.”

Just then, the distraught mom and her equally distraught son walked past the end of the aisle I was standing in. I don’t even know what I was looking for because they were creating such a scene, yelling at the top of their lungs for the entire grocery store to hear.

I was embarrassed for her. The look on her face gave her away—this woman had HAD it. She was angry at her son, angry at herself for yelling at him, maybe even angry at having to be at the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon when she might have wanted or needed to be somewhere else. She was definitely at the end of her rope with this kid.

The scene in the grocery store reminded me of one time when I was probably a teenager. I was shopping with my mom and another distraught mother of a toddler was screaming at her child. I mean, really screaming. My mom couldn’t handle it—this always bothered her—so she asked me to finish the shopping while she left the store.

You know what? It bothers me too. It bothers me to hear a mother screaming at her very own precious gift, treating her child as if it were some throwaway rag doll or, worse yet, a dog. It bothers me to hear words exchanged in frustration or anger or desperation. It bothers me to think that that’s what’s going on at home.

Even more than that, it bothers me to hear a mother yelling at her child in a store because I wonder how many times I did that when my kids were little. I shudder to think that an older mom just looked at me, in my own moment of frustration, and shook her head at my inability to cope. It bothers me to think that I could have ever embarrassed myself like that in public.

But I’m sure I did--at least once. I know I had rough days. I know I had days when I actually said, out loud, “I have HAD it with you!” Oh, those early years of motherhood were hard.

And so, to the mom in the grocery store, I’d just like to say that I understand. I understand those bad days. I understand that you probably love your son with all of your heart, but you are JUST. SO. MAD. at him right now. And I understand that you want your day to get better.

It breaks my heart, but I do understand.

What's With the "With"?

My latest issue of Real Simple came last week. I love Real Simple for its beautiful photography, economical fashion advice, and its well-written stories.

I’ve even gotten a few good recipes.

So I was excited when this month’s issue promised “A Month of Easy Dinners.” Now that’s something I can really use. A month of easy dinners is right in my bailiwick.

But when I turned to the article, honestly, nothing sounded good to me. And then I noticed something—all of the recipes are written like “This with That.”

I’ve been noticing this trend for a while now, and I’d just like to ask the recipe writers out there—what’s with the “with”? I mean really. Do we have to stretch out the name of a recipe to infinity and beyond?

Let’s just use this month’s Real Simple article as an example of my little pet peeve.

The first recipe was called “Roasted Pork with Brussels Sprouts and Apricots.” There’s just so much wrong with this that I don’t know where to start. With Brussels sprouts? Seriously? *shudder* Who puts Brussels sprouts with anything at all?

And not only that, there’s a bonus—“and Apricots.” Maybe they should add some more ingredients to the title like “and salt . . . and pepper”? I mean, while they’re at it, why don’t they just include ALL of the ingredients in the title of the recipe? That way you could just read the title to find out if there is anything in the recipe that you’re deathly allergic to.

O.K. I flip the page and every single recipe is a “with” recipe. Five of them, lined up across the page.

“Seared Lamb Chops with Minted Spaghetti Squash”

“Shrimp Pot Pie with Fennel”

“Ravioli with Apples and Walnuts” (bonus!)

“Salmon with Lemon-Cilantro Vinaigrette”

“Chicken with Spinach and Mushrooms”

I think “with” is code for something-in-this-recipe-is-going-to-be-gross-but-we’re-making-it-sound-like-it’s-going-to-be-good. Like putting “with” in the title of the recipe is going to make it all fancy-schmancy.

Chicken’s just chicken, right? No matter how you grill it, slice it, or sauce it, it’s just chicken. But if you wrote a recipe that just said “Chicken” nobody would give it a second glance. Which is why those sneaky recipe writers have to add “with” something—to make plain old chicken sound more palatable. Oh, they are a sly bunch.

You know, I think I’m going to start doing this from now on. I’m going to tell my kids, “Tonight we’re having Spaghetti with Sauce.” I know they’ll be so impressed.

Or when I make lemonade it’s no longer going to be just lemonade. I’m going to call it “Water with Lemon and Sugar.”

And starting tomorrow in their lunches I’m going to give them “Peanut Butter with Jelly and Bread.” I just know this one is going to catch on. Big time.

Maybe the Today Show would even invite me to come do a segment demonstrating how to make this latest culinary trend.

I’m available.

Just as soon as I finish my Cereal with Milk.

Travel Tuesday - Washington DC

I was reminded last week (thanks, Kira!) that I promised you a report on our Washington DC trip.

I was also reminded that I failed to deliver. Not that I was busy or anything last week with the P's in town and kids starting school.


So, in honor of Kira, whom I love and who will probably be taking DC by storm next year, here's a bit of a recap of our trip to the nation's capitol.

Day 1
We arrived in DC in the afternoon and even though we had sketchy at best excellent directions from good old Mapquest, we found ourselves veering off course which, of course, led to the following interaction.

Me: I think we were supposed to go the other way on that street back there.

B: Why didn't you tell me?

Me: Well, the roundabout was confusing.

B: Just tell me where to go now.

Me: Turn left. Like, now. HERE!!!

B: I'm in the right lane, Shelly! How can I turn left here?!?!

Me: O.K., don't yell at me. Turn left at the next street.

B: Which one? This one?! DO YOU WANT ME TO TURN LEFT NOW?

Me: TURN LEFT! NOW!!!!

B: You're going to get us all killed!

Me: Don't yell at me!

And on it went until we finally reached our hotel where we pulled up to the valet and tried to look like a family that had it all together. Even though not two minutes earlier we wanted to rip each other's heads off. Kids included.

We spent four nights at The Melrose which, to me, is in a perfect location. Very close to Georgetown. Just a few blocks from a Metro station. Within walking distance to the White House. And right around the corner from Trader Joe's (so I felt right at home). The hotel is a little older and in need of some updates, but for the special price we got ($89 a night--thank you, Travel Zoo), I was willing to put up with, well, a lot. Besides, I had called earlier and asked for a double room with a pull-out sofa and they graciously obliged. Our room was the size of a small apartment! We were most comfortable.

I had made reservations to do a biking tour on Monday night, and let me tell you, this tour was one of the highlights of our trip. If you're going to DC with your family, definitely do this. I found Bike the Sites on the internet before we left (just proving, once again, that doing your research ahead of time is priceless). Our tour was a three hour tour (NOT of the Gilligan variety!) of the monuments, covering about 4 miles total so the ride was easy for all of us. We started out at 7:00, so it wasn't dark yet, but by the time we were about halfway through it got dark. By the time we finished it was about 9:45 and completely dark. Kind of fun to be riding the streets of DC in the dark, I thought.

Anyway, this is THE BEST way to see all the monuments. I had no idea they were all so far away from each other--as we were riding we kept saying that there was no way we'd see everything if we had to walk it. Plus, it was FUN! Our tour guide, Emily, was as sweet as she could be and gave us lots of great information about each of the monuments we stopped to see. All in all we saw 8 monuments/memorials: the White House (I know, not really a monument, but we stopped there anyway), the Washington Monument, the WW II memorial, the Vietnam memorial, the Lincoln memorial, the Korean War memorial, the FDR memorial, and the Thomas Jefferson memorial.



A crazy-fun way to spend an evening!

Day 2
I only have one word for you: Grayline.

Or is it two words? Gray. Line.

Whatever.

Our second day got off to a slow and frustrating start because we wanted to do a double-decker bus tour, but when I asked the front desk people at our hotel if they could sell us tickets (I had bought them there a year earlier when I was there with my sister, so I thought this was a possibility), they said they weren't selling them anymore.

Then the strangest thing happened. The bellman, who had overheard our conversation, asked me if I needed bus tour tickets.

Him: Were you looking for bus tour tickets? I can help you with that.

Me: Really? The guys over there (pointing to the front desk only 10 feet away) said you didn't sell them anymore.

Him: I can sell them to you.

Me: (with a confused shrug of my shoulders) O.K.

Him: You pay me half now, in cash, and you pay the other half when you get on the bus.

Me: Hmmmm. O.K. (I'm so stupid, I know.)

So I buy five tickets and head to where he said was the bus stop. One hour and a little stressful family time later, we were all back in the hotel lobby.

Him: What happened? Did you find the bus?

Me: I need my $64 back. The bus never came. Two Grayline busses came and picked people up, but your bus company never showed up.

Him: Really? (Looking all confused and nonchalant now.)

Me: Really. May I have my $64 back, please? We're going to do something else.

Him: Sure. O.K. (Opens his wallet and hands me back my money. Did you catch that? His wallet!)

I know, write "gullible" across my forehead.

Anyway, we decided that we'd take the Metro to Arlington National Cemetery and after we were finished there we'd try to find a Grayline bus.

Our plan worked. Arlington was great, but it was HOT that morning and our girls really weren't that interested in a bunch of gravesites. Not even if they held JFK himself.



It was just too hot to really appreciate Arlington the way we should have. Thankfully, we had the foresight to purchase Tourmobile tickets, so we rode most of the way around. That seems to be the way to do it.

After Arlington we did indeed find the Grayline bus just outside the gate. As we got on the bus, I handed my Visa card to the driver who said, "I just don't have time to do that right now. Go get a seat and pay on your way out."

Okie dokie.

We headed upstairs to get a seat in the sun because we just weren't hot enough after our morning at Arlington. But, actually, when the bus was moving it wasn't so bad--kind of like riding through a sauna at 30 miles per hour.

We rode about half of the route and decided to get off the bus at Union Station to have a little look around and to get cooled off in the air conditioned building. As we were leaving the bus, I handed my Visa card to the driver again to try to pay for our tickets. She then said, "You know, I can't do that right now. Why don't you just pay on the next bus? Consider this a free ride."

O.K. A free ride. Cool.

Union Station was cool--in many ways. The architecture was beautiful. The train station part was fun. But the McDonalds had sweet tea, and that was just about all I needed at that moment.

After a nice respite, it was time to continue on the bus tour, so we headed outside and got on the next Grayline bus. Once again, I handed my Visa card to the driver to buy our tickets. At least this time she told everyone else in my family to go get seats while she dealt with me.

I'll give her this: she tried. She really tried. But after about 5 minutes of her Visa machine not working she said to me, "We need to get going, so why don't you just go sit down? I'll get you later."

Alrighty then. I'll just go sit down now.

We finished most of the loop, but this time took considerably longer than the first half did because traffic in that city was, in a word, HORRENDOUS!!!! I nearly went batty sitting in that traffic on top of a bus in 100 degree weather. But still, it was a good way to get a feel for the city. I do love a double decker bus tour.

But here's the funny thing . . . nobody came to make us pay. I kept my Visa card handy, hoping that the assistant on the bus would figure us out and come get my payment, but nope. Nobody did. So we finished the tour and got off the bus near our hotel. It was a long, hot afternoon, but at least it was FREEEEEE!

Should I feel guilty?

O.K., this is getting long, so I'm going to call it a day. Next Tuesday you'll get the last two days of our trip, so come on back then.

It's Coming!!

I just have to show you these pictures. As my mom and I were out walking on Thursday of last week, I looked up at one of my neighbor's trees and saw this.



Do you know how startling it is to look up at a yard full of green trees and see a big burst of red?

To top it off, these were scattered all around the ground.



Fall is definitely on it's way.

Tell me, what do you love about Fall?

Goat Cheese and Sun Dried Tomato Spread

Here's something you probably don't know about me: I love football. And I actually know quite a lot about the game (just ask my husband). No, I can't name all the positions of all the players out on the field, but I know enough to enjoy the sport.

Which is why I'm so happy it's fall. Football season is just about my favorite season of the year. Go Bears! Oh, and go Falcons too! And go Thunder while I'm at it.

So yesterday, when Boo Mama announced that she was hosting a blog carnival that involved dip (which I also happen to love) that you can use at your next football party, I was all over it. (Except that this morning got away from me what with all the glorious weather we're having and so I felt like I should walk the dog and ride my bike and work out and cut the grass. And now here we are, it's after lunch, and I'm just sitting down to give you my yummy recipe, and don't you just know I'll be, like, number 600 on her list and nobody will get over here to read about goat cheese and sun dried tomatoes.)

Oh well. Those of you who actually do make it over here should really give this a try. It only takes five ingredients and it is SO GOOD ifIdosaysomyself.

Goat Cheese and Sun Dried Tomato Spread

1 package goat cheese

1/2 jar sun dried tomatoes

1 clove garlic

1/4 C. pine nuts, toasted

1-2 T. olive oil

Leave goat cheese on the counter for about 30 minutes, just to soften a bit. Spread cheese in the bottom of a small baking dish.

Place sun dried tomatoes, garlic, and pine nuts in a food processor and blend just a few pulses (you don't want it too smooth). Add enough olive oil to make it spreadable, then pulse a couple more times.

Spread tomato mixture on top of goat cheese. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 20-30 minutes, until bubbly.

Serve with crackers. Devour.

Note: to toast pine nuts, simply place them in a dry frying pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally. When you can start to smell them and you see they are turning just a little bit brown, remove to waxed paper placed on the counter and allow to cool. Be careful! These little babies burn very easily, and then they taste bitter. You don't want that.

Now, hop on over to Boo Mama's and check out some more wonderful dip recipes.

3:00 A.M.

I have no idea why this normally sound sleeper awoke at 3:00 A.M. with my blog and this verse on my mind. But just in case, I thought I'd share.

This summer I read the book of Daniel. I had read it before, but for some reason it touched me in a new way this summer. The first half of the book contains many familiar stories like Shadrack, Meshack, and Abednego and Daniel in the lion's den. But the second half is mostly prophecy that Daniel receives from a "messenger of the Lord."

I was struck by these verses from chapter 10, after Daniel sees this messenger and is blown away by his appearance.

"And the man said to me, 'Daniel, you are very precious to God, so listen carefully to what I have to say to you. . . .'" (v. 11, NLT)

"'Don't be afraid,' he said, 'for you are very precious to God. Peace! Be encouraged! Be strong!'" (v. 19, NLT)

These verses have stayed with me all summer, and I just thought I should share them with you today.

You are very precious to God.

"I'm a Patron"

So yesterday I mentioned that we took the girls to see Carrie Underwood on Sunday night. What I didn’t mention was that there is a story attached to it.

There’s always a story.

Before I get to the story, however, I have to backtrack and tell you that Maggie spent her Saturday afternoon looking through her dad’s old scrapbook. At one point, as I walked through the room, she said to me with all kinds of amazement in her voice, “Mom, one year Dad got all C’s.”

“Really?” I asked. I wanted living proof that my husband isn’t as perfect as he seems. “Show me that report card.”

Maggie flipped back a few pages and turned to B’s second grade report card. Yep, straight C’s alright. C for Commendable, that is. That’s like getting all plus marks today. Or, if you want to look at it this way, straight A’s.

We like to tease the only man in our house about being Mr. Perfect. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who is luckier than him. Not only did he win the lottery when he married me (sorry, but that previous sentence just walked me right into it!), he’s also won many a golf outing prize, raffle, or contest. The guy just exudes success. It’s weird.

So on the way to the concert we got into another of our teasing fits. Maggie even said, “I got kind of sick of looking at Dad’s scrapbook—it was so full of awards and straight A report cards.” We laughed at how everything he touches turns to gold.

But on Sunday night it was good to be in the same car with B because his Midas touch came through yet again. See, earlier in the week we had been sent a pink postcard in the mail with instructions about parking for Sunday night’s concert. It made very little sense to us, but it seemed like something we should hold onto and even take with us because it talked about “Patron parking.”

Now, B’s employer is a patron of the arts and a sponsor of this music festival, and since we had ordered our tickets through B's work we thought maybe the special pink parking postcard was somehow related. Since the instructions were very specific, and it was definitely delivered to B at our home address, we knew it wasn't a mistake.

We just couldn't figure out exactly why it was sent to us.

The concert was sold out, and even though we arrived near the concert venue three hours (yes, you read that right--three hours) before the concert, the line of cars to get into the regular parking lot was about 2 miles long and moving veerryy slowly. The line of cars crept down the center lane of traffic, and, if they were lucky, they might get a place to park in about an hour.

But our little pink postcard told us to head down the right lane where there was no traffic, basically bypassing all those poor people who were waiting in that 2 mile line. B and I kind of looked at each other for a second . . . but only for a second . . . and the decided to go for it. Let’s just see what happens when we get to the lot, was our thinking. It couldn't be any worse than waiting in this line.

Suddenly we were in Midas mode, cruising around a long line of cars toward the “patron” lot.

We were greeted by two security guards who couldn’t have been more than 18 years old. B handed them the pink postcard and innocently asked, “Is this where I’m supposed to be?”

These guys had no idea what the pink postcard was about, so they radioed ahead to their supervisor. “Ah, yeah, I’ve got a guy here who has a postcard that talks about patron parking. We don’t know what to do.”

After a brief conversation between the guards and the supervisor, the guard said, “Just head down there and talk to our supervisor.”

Great. Happy to oblige. We were a few yards closer to the lot than we were a few minutes ago, so we headed down to have a chat with the parking lot supervisor. B showed him the pink postcard.

“I’ve never seen one of these,” said Mr. Supervisor. “Are you a patron?”

“Yeah, I’m a patron,” said B. Sort of.

“Do you work for ____?” The supervisor mentioned the name of the sponsoring bank for that evening's concert.

“No, I work for ____,” replied B. His bank also sponsors some concerts, just not the one we happened to be attending.

He stared at the card, obviously unsure of how to handle the situation. “Well, just head on up there.”

We were in! Just like that, we were headed to the sweetest parking spot I’ve ever had, not twenty steps from the front gate. Oh, and did I mention that we didn't have to pay a thing? All because of Golden Boy.

Later that night we were laughing about how we got one of the best parking spots in the entire place and how we might not have been supposed to have that spot. Maybe. Probably. And we may have laughed just a little about the supervisor’s reaction to our pink postcard: “Hmmm, I’ve never seen one of these cards before.”

And then one of the girls let out this well-timed zinger: "Well, Mr. Parking Lot Supervisor, that’s probably because people don’t usually hand you their mail!"

That's when it hit me . . . Golden Boy might just be raising three Golden Girls. We'll just have to wait and see.

Monday Morning Mania

It's Monday morning, and, after a very full weekend, there are all sorts of little snippets of things going through my head right now that I thought I'd just make a list and share. Enjoy. Comment. Come back tomorrow.

1. My Facebook status on Saturday was this: "Summer, Summer, wherefore art thou, Summer?" It was chilly on Friday night when we went to the first high school football game of the season. It was chilly on Saturday when I ran around with my mom. It was chilly on Sunday when B and Abby ran in a 10K together. And chilly again last night as we went to an outdoor concert.

But the worst was this morning when I woke up, cranked up the computer and found that my weather button said it was 44 degrees! I have to say, I feel completely cheated out of summer--a season I look forward to all year. I'm trying not to be resentful, but come on! This is crazy!

2. As I mentioned, B and Abby ran in a 10K yesterday. B had run in races before, and so had Abby, but she had never run in a 10K before. All summer long, the two trained, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and I was amazed at their discipline. Even on days when I thought it wasn't going to happen, late into the evening Abby would hop on her bike and head to the gym to train. She had set a goal to finish the race in 1:05, and she was determined to meet that goal. B wanted to finish in about an hour.

Yesterday was, as I said, chilly, but clear and beautiful. A perfect day for a race. Kate, Maggie, and I were there to show our support and to record the finish for posterity. We were so happy when B came around the turn toward the finish line in just about an hour. But you can imagine our surprise and sheer delight when, about 30 seconds later, Abby's ponytail came bobbing down the final stretch. She finished the race about 1 minute after her dad and well under her goal! And, even more fun, she finished second in her age category, for which she received a medal.

I am still so proud of both of them!

3. Last night we went to see Carrie Underwood at Ravinia, which is a beautiful outdoor concert venue about an hour or so away from here. This was to be kind of a culmination of summer for our family, so when we ordered the tickets several months ago we didn't imagine that we'd be bundled up in blankets and fleece, teeth chattering through the entire evening. Still, it was a great concert and a really fun night for our family.

Now, I guess it's on to Fall.

4. The girls, my mom, and I went to see "Julie and Julia" on Saturday. I had seen it before and loved it--what's not to love in a movie about blogging and cooking?--but I wanted to see it again, and I have to say that I enjoyed it even more the second time around.

One of the things that impressed me the first time, but even moreso the second time, was the love that both of these women had for their husbands. It was so touching to see how happy both couples seemed--and not just because the wife cooked for her husband. No, it was more than that. It seemed like both husbands and wives were willing to sacrifice for their partner, and that each, in return, appreciated their spouse more for it. The movie portrayed a realistic view of marriages that worked. Not perfect marriages, but two people who were willing to participate fully in the give and take that is daily life.

Have you seen the movie? What are your thoughts?

5. I read a post last week that has stayed with me. I've thought about it so much, mulled it over and over, and wanted to share it with you. It's from one of my favorite blogs, Stuff Christians Like, and the post talks about how sometimes we Christians forget to be faithful in the little things, creating, in our minds, a "doesn't count list." Read it by clicking here and tell me what you think.

Whew! Now I feel like I can get on with my day. Hope you're warmer than I am!

Happy Back to School Week!

This is the first week of school for us. And, from what I’ve been reading, it’s the first week of school for lots of people around the country.

Unless you start next week. Or even after Labor Day. In which case I don’t know whether to be happy for you or to cry for you. Let me know how you feel about that.

Anyway, earlier this week I read Melanie’s touching and hilarious post about her daughter going to first grade.

And then yesterday I got the sweetest picture of my nephew’s first day of first grade from my sister-in-law, Julie. I have to admit, it made me a little teary-eyed because he looks so grown up. And I know that from now on time will begin to spin faster and faster and faster until he’s in high school and things move at warp speed until he will be suddenly flung out the door and out into the world.

Not that I’m feeling any of that or anything. Ahem.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about those early days of putting my kids in school. How big my kids suddenly seemed. How innocent they were. How, as a parent, I felt like a new student as well as I learned to navigate the waters of “School” . . . just from a different perspective this time.

Oh, the mistakes I have made. Like the day of kindergarten orientation when I asked the kindergarten teacher if she used a phonics-based curriculum because I had heard about the horrors of whole language. And how the teacher looked at me blankly and said, “Ma’am, this is kindergarten. We don’t teach reading.”

Oh. . . . Yeah.

And how, when Kate was in first grade and I could still pick out her clothes in the morning, I sent her to Field Day in a dress. Hey, in my defense, I didn’t know what Field Day was, but she still won’t let me live that one down.

Like I said, I’ve made many a mistake in my day.

So I got to thinking about moms who are new to this school thing, and I thought of a few bits of advice. Take it for what it’s worth.

1. These years go fast; enjoy them. When “older” moms used to tell me this when my children were small, I used to roll my eyes and think Yeah, right. That’s easy for YOU to say. You're not living the hell that is my life right now. And I’d get kind of mad about that statement, to be honest. I wasn’t enjoying much of anything when my kids were younger, and I couldn’t get through the days fast enough.

Today, with two in high school and one in middle school, the days absolutely fly by.

But they didn’t always. When my girls were younger, all at home all day long, the days dragged for me. Don’t worry about that if that’s the stage you’re in. Things will change overnight once your child goes to first grade. Suddenly you’re bound by calendars and schedules and sports and recitals. And before you know it your child will be a senior in high school and time will be whizzing by and in less than a year they will be out your door forever.

Not that I’m experiencing any of that. Ahem.

2. Be your child’s advocate, but also support the teacher. Sure, there will be disagreements about stuff that happens in the classroom, but remember that the teacher is the authority (and, I might add, the expert in her field). If your child has a complaint about her teacher, check into it and be proactive, but also remind your child that you support the teacher too. It’s really important in the early years to teach your children, by example, that you respect their teacher’s authority and that you expect your child to respect authority too.

3. Get involved. Sign up to be a room parent. Volunteer with the PTA. Offer to assemble the school newsletter. Even if you don’t have a lot of time, try to do something.

There are so many good reasons to be involved in your child’s school, but here are just a couple of reasons I’ve been a very active parent, especially at the elementary school level. First, you get to know the teacher so much better if you serve in the classroom, plus you can keep an eye on what’s being taught. Those little “disputes” I talked about earlier probably won’t seem like such a big deal if you know what’s going on in the classroom.

Second, you also get to know other parents through serving at the school, and it’s always a good idea to know your child’s friends’ parents. It usually explains a lot. Enough said.

4. Pray for your kids and their teachers. I can think of no better way to support your child or her teacher than by taking time to pray for them. For many years I was involved with a group called Moms In Touch where we would meet for an hour each week to pray for our children, the school, the staff, and the teachers. You may be thinking, An hour? How on earth did you pray for a whole hour? Believe me, that hour flew by each week, and I still consider some of the women from that group some of my closest friends.

If you have a Moms in Touch group at your school, join it. If you don’t have one at your school, start one. And if you don’t have other moms to pray with, find just one and get on your knees. There is nothing—NOTHING—better you can do for your child.

And, you know, on those really bad mornings when Susie runs out the door in tears yelling that you're just about the worst mom in the entire world, you can throw up a prayer or two for yourself as well. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything . . .

5. Recognize that teachers have lives outside the classroom. You know how kids kind of freak out when they see their teacher in a public place like a library or in a restaurant? Maybe you even remember that happening when you were a kid. I think kids kind of imagine their teachers saying goodbye to them at the door at the end of the day, then going back to the classroom and unrolling a sleeping bag. Sometimes we just can’t imagine that teachers have anything to do other than sit at their desk thinking about school all day.

Believe me, they are thinking about other things. They may be worried about a loved one who’s sick or a wayward teenager. Heck, they may just be wondering what’s for dinner, just like you are. In the 10 years that we were at our elementary school, I knew teachers who dealt with the death of a child, rebellious teens, infertility, marital problems, and health issues.

Teachers have a life just like we do, and sometimes that life creeps into their thoughts while they are teaching our kids. Give them a little slack if they have an “off” day and certainly don’t expect them to be perfect.

We chose public school on purpose (I’d be happy to talk about that in another post if you’re interested), but when we did, we also knew that our level of involvement would have to be very high. From my experience, these are just a few simple things you can do to help your child—and you—have the most positive school experience possible.

What would you add to this list? What would you change? I’d love to hear your thoughts on school, teachers, kids.

Holy Guacamole or Onion Dip or Pimento Cheese!!!

Oh, the bloggy world. It is a treasure trove of helpful information and money-saving tips. Like the one I am about to pass along to you.

But first, a story. You're surprised, I know.

A couple of years ago, my sister, Jenn, called me. (Yes, she's called me since then. Just stay with me here.)

"Hey, Shell, what do you think about Southern Living lately?"

"You know," I replied, "They've changed it, and it's bugging me. My subscription is just about to come due, and I don't think I'm going to renew it."

"Me too!" my sister practically lept through the phone to agree with me. "I just let my subscription lapse."

We had both been Southern Living faithfuls for many, many years. We loved the recipes and the home decorating tips. We loved the beautiful photographs and stories about the South. I read each issue from cover to cover. Because, if you didn't know it already, I'm a Northern girl who longs to be Southern. I think it's all those years of reading Southern Living.

Lo and behold, we weren't the only ones feeling this way. Boo Mama had had it too--I read it on her blog. And on this post that she wrote about Southern Living, she got an amazing response from her readers who felt the same way.

I guess Jenn and I weren't the only ones.

Recently though, Boo Mama has dipped her toe back into the Southern Living springs and has come back unharmed. In fact, she says that, except for the binding which used to be stapled and is now glued, our old Southern Living is back. She's happy. And I totally trust her Southern judgement because she is a true Southern belle.

Well, thanks to the bloggy world, Robin, who heard it from Kristen, who heard it from Sophie, let me in on an amazing deal of the century. If you, like me, had given up on Southern Living, you can dip your toe back into the Southern Living springs for . . . get this . . . only $5. Yep. Five bucks.

Five bucks. Five bucks. Five bucks.

For an entire year of Southern Living.

I signed up. You might want to too. You can click right here to be directed to the Amazon link that will give you this deal. But hurry. Offer ends on Saturday.

Travel Tuesday - Late Edition

I know I promised you a Travel Tuesday post about our trip, and you’ll get it. In installments.

See, today was the first day of school and my little Maggie didn’t get her schedule because we were on vacation last week. Then yesterday, after I had been told that, “sure, she can come into the building on Monday. No problem!” she couldn’t get into the building. So this morning I had to put on my Mom hat and take her to school early, find the office where we could pick up her schedule, and help her maneuver a brand new building (for her) to find her classes.

Funny little side story here . . . So we’re in the 6th grade hallway fiddling with her locker before school. About 10 minutes before the bell was supposed to ring, kids start flooding down the hall. I observed to Maggie that they must have let the 6th graders in early so they could get to their lockers and find their first class. Isn’t that nice of them? Dear Maggie took a quick glance around to see what was happening, straightened up her shoulders, and gave me a big grin. Then, just as quickly, she said, “Bye, Mom!”

I obviously wasn’t needed there anymore.

Anyway, it’s kind of been one thing after another today, thus the late edition of Travel Tuesday. Next week I’ll get into more nitty gritty of our trip, but for today I want to leave you with a few pictures. (And only a couple because I haven't had time to go through them all yet.)

I also want to tell you that not every trip has to be an expensive one. I spend a bit of time doing research before each trip we take. I look around for deals, keeping my eye out on forum boards for people who have also found great deals and report on them. Our week in Williamsburg and Washington DC came about on the spur of the moment. We hadn’t planned on taking a summer vacation, but when Kate decided she wanted to go college hunting on the East coast and her parents both wanted to go with her, we decided to load up the truck, so to speak, and head out. Since we hadn’t budgeted for this trip, I knew we needed to do it as economically as possible.

Enter two of my new favorite travel websites: Priceline and Travel Zoo.

If, like us, you know you’re not going to be spending a ton of time in your room, and if you don’t care that much about amenities, then Priceline might be just the thing for you. I had used Priceline once or twice before and was really happy with the deals I got, so for the two nights we’d be spending in Williamsburg I figured it was worth a shot.

I’m here to tell you, it was definitely worth a shot. We got a room that would normally cost about $150 a night for $60 a night. Definitely worth a shot, since we saved over $180.

Then, when I was digging around on TripAdvisor one day, I read a note from someone who said that they saw a deal on Travel Zoo for $89 in Washington DC. So I headed over there and, sure enough, got the same deal. So, a room that would have cost us $900 for four nights in Washington cost us around $500. For those of your mathematically challenged, like me, that’s a savings of around $400.

Making it a grand total of $580 saved on hotel rooms alone. Can I get a woot woot?

And that’s before the Big Red Bus debacle which ended up costing us a total of . . . nothing. A savings of about $125.

Oh yes, I’m full of savings tips. But the Big Red Bus debacle wouldn’t be one of them. Because that’s another story for another day.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Vacation: a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday.

Well, we’re back from “vacation.” (Right now you’re supposed to picture me with both hands in the air, two fingers on each hand making the silly quotation sign.) But I wonder . . . was it really a vacation?

Recreation. Sure.

Travel? Definitely. (We’re talking almost 2,000 miles on our car.)

Rest? No way.

I’d have to say that over the past few years, our favorite family vacations have consisted of not much more than a pair of flip-flops, a towel, and a beach. We’ve spent many a peaceful, reflective hour on Kiawah Island in South Carolina where the toughest decision we make all day is what to have for dinner.

Not so last week. We were animals. Vacation animals we were. We ran around Washington D.C. like chickens with no heads, and we sweated like pigs. See? Animals.

But while we were sweating and clucking, one of my friends was lounging her week away on Kiawah. Resting. Relaxing. I sure hope she slept enough for both of us because on this “vacation” I didn’t get much sleep.

It could have had something to do with the full-size bed I had to share with B, which left me exactly 6 ½ inches of sleeping space when we normally share a king-size bed. But I don’t know. It could just have been that we went to bed late and got up early and kept going and going and going.

Oooh, I just thought of another animal analogy—the Energizer bunny. Yes. That was us last week. Little pink bunnies marching all over the nation’s capitol.

Anyway, we’re home now and so happy to be here. School starts in two days. My parents arrive today for a visit. And life is getting back to normal.

I’ll post a Travel Tuesday tomorrow about our vacation, but for now, I want to give you the good, the back, and the ugly about our, um, vacation.

The Good. I’d have to say that Williamsburg turned out to be a pleasant surprise for all of us. Who knew that you could have so much fun in a place where people put on “period costumes” (don’t even get me started on what our family thought THAT meant!) and act like colonists all day, never once breaking character? And who would have thought a town where every store, restaurant, and business name is preceded by the words “Colonial” or “Settlers” or “Village” would end up seeming charming to us? O.K., the “Colonial/Settler” thing got to be a joke with us, but a charming joke for sure.

Anyway, Williamsburg was fun and quaint and beautiful. I have a feeling we’ll be back someday.

The Bad. Imagine standing in line for 10 minutes, being herded into a movie theater to watch a 20 minute film you don’t want to see, then standing in another long line for 15 minutes. When your tour guide finally comes, he herds you, without a word, up an escalator and down a corridor. He takes a breath and begins: “WelcometotheCapitolbuildingmynameisTonyI’llbeyourtourguidetoday.” Slight pause. “We’restandingintheCapitolrotunda.Thepaintingsyouseeonthewallsbehindyou . . .” Two rooms, 15 minutes, and a dizzying lecture later we were back on the escalator to the Visitor’s Center, scratching our heads in disbelief. Could it really be over? Is that all we get to see?

The Capitol Tour was, without a doubt, the worst tour I’ve ever experienced. Don’t do it unless you’ve arranged a private tour with someone from your Congressman’s office. Just don’t.

The Ugly. My car right now. After 1,800 miles the windshield is covered with bugs and the inside smells like old socks. Later on today it will get a bath and will be as good as new. Oh yeah, it IS new.

All-in-all our vacation was great. Just being together was fun (well, except for those “low” moments, but I won’t mention those because I’m sure our family is the only family that snipes at each other about whose turn it is to sleep on the floor or who gets the last swig of Coke out of the one bottle we’re sharing. You know, the truly rare moments that nobody else has. Right?).

Be sure to come back tomorrow for more Wild family fun and my Travel Tuesday post.

In the meantime, leave me a comment telling me about your summer vacation. Where did you go? What was good? Bad? Ugly?

Because I Just Can't Seem to Stop Myself

First I just have to say Happy Birthday to my sister, Jenn, today. Have a great one!


And now, on to the rerun of this post, originally published June 1, 2009

Since all two of you decided to vote on which story you'd like me to tell (I can see that my readers are an opinionated lot), here it is. I aim to please.

But first, I have to preface the story by saying that this is just a typical mother-of-teenage-daughters story. It's nothing too out of the ordinary for us because my big mouth regularly gets me in trouble with my kids.

Kind of like the day someone stole my parking place at the mall. Never one to let things go, I rolled down my window and yelled at the young lady in the snazzy sports car who stole the spot. "Hey, I was waiting for that spot!"

She just stared at me like "Yeah lady-in-a-mini-van, whatever."

So I added this great zinger, "I have an old lady in the car!"

Yes, it's true, that day I not only embarrassed my children, but I also embarrassed my mother.

Or another example from just this past weekend. While working in the front yard, I saw that the "kids" two doors down were gearing up for another of their famous parties. So I politely stopped the young man carrying a case of beer under his arm.

"Excuse me."

"Yeah?"

"Hi. I just wanted to make sure you know about the city ordinance that says that quiet hours start at 11:00."

"Uh, yeah. The owner does."

"Well, good. Just be sure to reminder her that QUIET HOURS START AT 11:00!"

Yeah lady-wearing-gardening-gloves. Whatever.

Then I heard him say to his buddy hiding behind the house next door, "Some lady wants us to know about quiet hours. Whatever."

Seriously, I should have earned a Ph.D. in embarrassment by now.

The girls think there's something I can actually do about my behavior. Just yesterday one of them said, "Mom, maybe if you knew how we felt, you'd try a little harder."

Like I can stop myself.

So those examples make my telling of the secret nickname story kind of tame. But here you go anyway. . . .

Kate has a friend in her class at school. I'll just call him Ernie Tiddlywinks to protect the innocent. Kate says he's a funny guy who makes her laugh all the time in English.

Abby also knows Ernie because he is the section leader for her section of the orchestra. Ernie also makes Abby laugh.

So Kate and Abby talk about Ernie sometimes at home and have given him the nickname "Uncle Tiddlywinks." Funny, huh? Not. But whatever.

I, being the embarrassing mother, just assumed that that's what everyone at school calls Ernie.

So last February, when I chaperoned that orchestra trip to the University of Illinois, I finally got to meet the infamous "Uncle Tiddlywinks." I figured out who he was, walked up to him and said, "Hi! Are you Ernie?"

"Uh, yes," he says, looking at me like the lady with two heads instead of the lady with the mini-van or the lady wearing gardening gloves.

You know, really, the strange look I get from people should be my first clue that something stupid is going to come flying out of my mouth any minute.

But, unaware of the who-are-you? look in his eyes, I press on.

"Uncle Tiddlywinks, right?!" I exclaim, as if I've hit the jackpot on coolness.

"What?" Confusion reigns in his eyes.

Abby, standing right next to me, suddenly has taken on a horrified expression.

"Uncle Tiddlywinks! You know, your nickname?" I desperately try to gain control of a situation that seems to be running in the opposite direction.

Abby grabs me by the arm, gives me the pleading "stop it, Mom" look, and says something like, "Oh, she's just kidding."

Too late, I realize that I have just totally messed up. I've done it again. I've embarrassed my daughter. Once we got away from Ernie, I asked Abby, "What just happened there?"

"Mom, he doesn't know we call him Uncle Tiddlywinks!" Gulp.

"Well, I didn't know that! Why didn't you tell me?!" I suddenly felt like being swallowed up by the cement floor I'm standing on wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Dear Ernie could not have been sweeter or more gracious about my sudden faux pas. He just laughed it off and we went on with our conversation. But the following week in class, he must have said something to Kate because she came home saying the same thing Abby had said. "Mom, why did you DO that?!"

I have no explanation.

Apparently all's well that ends well, though, because just a couple of weeks ago the girls told me that Ernie has asked both of them--just them, mind you, nobody else--if they would please just call him Uncle Tiddlywinks. He thinks it's cool.

What Rhymes With Garlic?

I got so many in-person comments about this post, I thought I'd give it to you again. For those of you who haven't tried this recipe, try it. Tonight.

It's summer. Which means that I'm watching an inordinate amount of Food Network lately. I know, I shouldn't be, and the guilt is killing me, but I figure since my family benefits from some additional Food Network viewing, I shouldn't feel too guilty about it. Right?

Like tonight. Boy, did they benefit. See, I watched Tyler Florence make Shrimp Scampi the other day and I thought to myself, "Gee, that looks easy. And boy does my family love shrimp. I'm going to try that one!"

So tonight I tried it, and my family loved it. You should try it too because it really is so easy.

First, assemble your ingredients. (Normally I don't assemble ahead of time, but this recipe comes together so quickly you'll want to do this.)

Cook about a pound of linguini (I don't have to spell that one out for you, do I?).



Melt two tablespoons of butter with two tablespoons of olive oil.

Add shallots, garlic, and a pinch of red pepper flakes (unless you're Kate and you add several pinches because good golly nothing could be hot enough for that girl).

Now, I have to just stop here and say this is the one and only time I modified Tyler's recipe. He puts five . . . yes, FIVE . . . cloves of garlic in his recipe. I know, I know, it is shrimp scampi after all, but seriously . . . five?? I love my family, so I cut back on the garlic just a bit.



After a couple of minutes, add the shrimp and cook it for about three minutes until it's pink.



Remove the shrimp from the pan, but return the pan to the heat. Add some wine and lemon juice and bring that to a boil.



Add some more butter and olive oil (I told you it was good, right?!).



Return the shrimp to the pan and cook for another minute or so, just to let all that deliciousness come together.



Add to the linguini, sprinkle with parsley, and voila! Instant yummy supper!



And just because I had some leftover tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, and just because I happen to grow basil on my patio every summer, I threw together a nice caprese salad to go with it. Oh my it was good!



Tyler Florence's Shrimp Scampi with Linguini

1 pound linguini
4 T. butter
4 T extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
1 large shallot, finely dices
5 (?) cloves garlic, sliced
pinch red pepper flakes, optional
20 large shrimp, about 1 pound, peeled and deveined, tail on
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 C. dry white wine
1 lemon, juiced
1/4 C. finely chopped parsley leaves

For the pasta, put a large pot of water on the stove to boil. When it has come to the boil, add a couple of tablespoons of salt and the linguini. After the water returns to a boil, cook for about 6-8 minutes or until the pasta is not quite done. Drain the pasta, reserving 1 C. of water.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet, melt 2 T. butter in 2 T olive oil over medium-high heat. Saute the shallots, garlic, and red pepper flakes until the shallots are translucent, about 3 to 4 minutes. Season the shrimp with salt and pepper; add them to the pan and cook until they have turned pink, about 2-3 minutes. Remove the shrimp from the pan; set aside and keep warm. Add wine and lemon juice and bring to a boil. Add 2 T. butter and 2 T. oil. When the butter has melted, return the shrimp to the pan along with the parsley and cooked pasta and reserved pasta water. Stir well and season with salt and pepper. Drizzle over a bit more olive oil and serve immediately.

As It Should Be

Originally published June 13, 2008.

I had coffee with a friend two days ago. It was a delicious time of iced coffee and great conversation. We got caught up with each other's year since we hadn't seen much of one another during the past few months, difficult for both of us in different ways.

We got to talking about how people can let us down--spouses, children, friends--and my friend told me about a 90 year old woman in her church who, before my friend got married, sat her down and told her this: "Your spouse will let you down. He will never be able to fulfill all your needs, and that's as it should be."

Confused, my friend asked her why. Why wouldn't her spouse fulfill all of the hopes and dreams she had held for twenty-some-odd years? She had certainly been looking forward to nightly foot massages and deep conversations long past midnight.

"Because, my dear," the senior saint went on, "when people let us down it makes us realize that no human being can do what God can do for us. It just reminds us that only God can fulfill our need for closeness."

And that's as it should be.

Owner of a Lonely Heart

Originally published January 20, 2009



There are so many things in my life that could potentially make me feel like a loser. My tendency to drive a little too fast. My inability to get the laundry done in one day. Heck, I'm a parent of teenagers--the way I pour my cereal could qualify me for loser status on any given day.

And don’t even get me started on the many times I’ve embarrassed myself, usually because I have two body parts that should never be brought together—a foot and a mouth. Thankfully, now that I’m a parent to teenagers, I’m over embarrassing myself and have moved on to embarrassing them.

But I digress.

I’m usually pretty good at shaking off that down-on-me feeling, but there is one aspect of stay-at-home-motherhood that really gets to me that I have never admitted. Out loud, anyway.

Which is why I was so glad my friend put words to it last week as we sat down over coffee.

We had just arrived at our favorite little French coffeehouse, where the tables are tiny and close together and the coffee is strong and served in little china tea cups. (So not like us, but we like to pretend were “ladies” every now and then.)

“I’m feeling kind of lonely lately,” my friend started out our conversation.

I could have reached over the table and hugged her. Tightly. And it wasn’t because I was feeling sorry for her either. I was just so happy that I’m not the only one who feels this way.

“Really?” I asked. “Because I feel lonely a lot, but I’ve never told anyone.”

We got to talking about our “profession”—motherhood—and the feelings of loneliness that go along with it. It’s hard to think of a lonelier profession than motherhood, especially if you have young children. You spend hours on end at home, hardly ever encountering another human being except for the ones you are caring for. And they aren’t exactly fodder for interesting conversation.

But there's something else to this lonely feeling, and my friend confirmed it. It’s a feeling that everyone else is out there doing something and I’m missing out. Or that all of my friends are getting together and having fun behind my back (I think that’s called paranoia). Or that I’m not doing enough—if I were busier I wouldn’t be lonely. But I know that’s not true; even women who work outside the home feel lonely.

In my heart I know it’s none of these things. I’m probably not missing out on anything. My friends are loyal. I’m busy enough.

As we talked about the reasons for our loneliness, my friend and I realized that it’s a heart longing. A longing to connect—with friends, with our spouse, with God—that we can’t seem to meet. A longing that will never be met while we’re on earth.

So why don’t we women admit our feelings of loneliness?

My friend and I decided that to admit to someone that we’re lonely sounds desperate. Like saying “Will you be my friend?” like we did in kindergarten. And we decided that admitting we’re lonely is kind of like admitting we have leprosy—nobody wants to be around that.

I’ve been thinking about that conversation a lot over the past week, and I’ve decided a couple of things. First, everyone is lonely every now and then. No matter what you do or what stage of life you’re in, everyone experiences these feelings. And realizing that should make me a lot less lonely.

But the other thing I’ve realized is that loneliness is false. When I’m going through a lonely phase, all I have to do is look around at all the people God has put in my life—my husband, my kids, my friends, my family—and realize that I may feel lonely sometimes, but I’m never alone.