October 2006 Archives

I have a new favorite apple. I like it better than the apples in my orchard. It is a Virginia Stayman. The stayman is the perfect all purpose apple I have ever cooked with. Virginia Stayman The photo just cannot show you the detail in the color. This apple is not one grown commercially for grocery stores and the like. The skin it not perfect and has a bit of texture. The skin is also prone to splitting. Gorgeous yellowish white flesh The flesh is beautiful. I picked these up yesterday from a grower down in Nelson County. These are so very juicey. I can't begin to even relate the beauty of the yellowish white flesh. Nor can I even begin to describe the perfect tartness when you bite into it. I have never been much of an apple lover. I like apples and do cook with them but I am not much of a pick an apple to eat kind of person. These have made me change my ways. They are an awesome vintage apple developed from an 1866 winesap from Kansas (I think). Simply delicious. I am thinking about making a batch of applesauce for the baby and maybe some applebutter to have at Christmas. Yummy! Last night I cooked pork chops for supper. As a side dish I sauteed a few apples in butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. It was a perfect addition to the meal. Time to mash the pumpkin I went yesterday and purchased two more cushaw pumpkins like Steve asked. The guy was so very nice and gave me a third one at no charge. I baked one last night and one this morning. Mini bread loaves and a quart of soup I made a batch of pumpkin bread and pumpkin soup. I took him down a quart of soup and a few loaves as a thank you. The cushaw pumpkin soup recipe is very similar to thePumpkin and Potato Soup I made last fall. The cushaw pumpkin bread recipe is also posted over on the recipe journal. Now you know what has taken me so long to get this post published this morning ... errr.. afternoon. Look! A sweet baby pumpkin. Well, that and trying to type with a baby banging on my keyboard. Or pulling my mouse cord. Or wanting to nurse. Or learning how to open the cabinet doors and pulling out a gazzion things. I do mean sweet. But he was so darn cute while doing it I couldn't resist smothering him with kisses and making him giggle. I have to go get ready for the trick or treating tonight. I'll have plenty of photos tomorrow. Happy Hallowe'en to you all.

Saturday afternoon we took the kids to get a pumpkin for the front porch. I was not at all pleased at the pumkin farm we have been going to. This year they charged $2.50 just to walk in their gate to buy a pumpkin. Every thing there had an additional charge. WTH? Believe me this tiny farm is not a carnival and does not have anything to draw much of a crowd. The pumpkins this year were not good either. We left quickly and saught out other means of pumpkin goodness. The pumpkin is bigger than the baby and he weighs in at 21 1/2 pounds! We drove a few miles into the tiny town that is our county seat, turned right and just as we passed under the railroad trussel we made a left into a little garden patch. We eagerly made purchase of green tomatoes, old fashion tan cheese pumpkins, sugar pumpkins, a cushaw pumpkin and the kids chose a huge pumpkin for their jack o'latern for Tuesday night. Cushaw pumpkin The cushaw pumpkin is an odd looking thing making one mistake it for a gourd or squash but it is a pumpkin. It is also a variety prized in the Appalachian mountains. It makes a better pie than any other pumpkin I am told. The neck is solid meat.The dar area is the juice welling up. So, I brought it home and scrubbed it up. It was a beautiful pumpkin. Heavy and firm. The fat end is slightly hollow and not filled with nearly as much goop and seed as the standard field pumpkin for jack o'lanterns. When I sliced into it to scrape out the seeds immediately the juice began to weep from the yellow flesh. It was just gorgeous. I baked it at 375 degrees for about an hour. Being large as it was (about 5 pound maybe) it took two pans and two roasting sessions. It is cooked when it is fork tender, about an hour, maybe a little longer for the thick neck pieces. Allowing it to cool I then scraped the meat out of the skin and mashed it with a potato masher. The meat flaked apart easily with a fork. I ended up with almost four quarts of mashed pumpkin meat. With a little butter, salt and pepper this is perfect for a supper side dish as is. (Maybe served it with chicken or pork chops. Yummy.) Sunday morning, I went into the kitchen peeked at my pumpkin meat and wondered what to do with so much pumpkin. We can't eat that much pie even if I am giving one to the neighbors. The light bulb went on and I thought "Pumpkin Pancakes!" We heat our kitchen with an old cast iron wood stove. I use my cast iron griddle pan on it. So this morning as the griddle heated on the fire I pulled out an old recipe for pancakes and got busy with breakfast. Pancakes (and other things) cook better on cast iron with wood heat. We had bacon and sausage and piles of pumpkin pancakes. Not one was left over. The baby ate an entire pancake himself also with a cup of milk. You know they had to be good! You can find the recipe over on my recipe journal listed under cushaw pumpkin pancakes. Tomorrow I will show and tell all about pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread and pumpkin soup. Steve liked the cushaw pumpkin so much he asked me to go get another 1 or 2 to put in freezer so we can have the pie and bread at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Believe me, if Steve wants more, it is damn good because he doesn't have any food preference much at all. If I didn't make him eat meals he would go days without eating. Find yourself a cushaw pumpkin and be prepared for a bread recipe that is delicious and good enough to give as a gift.

Me: Gracie, what will you have for dessert? Gracie: Hmmm, what can I choose from? She shifts Steven from one hip to the other. Me: Chocolate cake or ice cream. Gracie: I think I am going to have sweet baby sugar. She begins to kiss Steven all over his face and around his neck making him giggle. Gracie: It's the rarest form of sugar in all the lands. She grins at me while trying to balance a baby half as big is she is in her arms. Me: Silently weeping watching my baby girl love my baby boy. Raising children who love and care about one another is one of the most beautiful things in all the lands.

My very most favorite television series of all time is The Waltons. I can identify with the Walton family as it is very similar to my own. You can't even begin to understand how similar it was growing up. My love for the Waltons has followed me from childhood to adulthood. It is probably one of those things about me I have never really let you all in on. I don't even really know where this rambling is going other than to tell you what I did this past weekend. I had remembered reading that the anniversary of the Walton's Museum was coming up. I took a minute to check the website. Yes! It was and so with a word to Steve we found ourselves dressed and headed down highway 29 going south. The Waltons is a television series that I have been trying to get my children to watch with me. Colby loves it and always has. Gracie not so much right now. The series was written by Earl Hamner and the characters are based somewhat on his own family members. The real Waltons Mountain is in a tiny little cross in the road in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, about an hour south of my house. The real Waltons Mountain is the village of Schuyler in Nelson County. Charlottesville, Covesville, Rockfish and the river, is all real. So saturday we went to the museum. We stopped here and took in what there was too see. This happened to be one of the more interesting exhibits. We even got a copy of the Balwin Sister's recipe. It is made with apricots, don't you know. Not the standard apples. As happy as I was to visit and see everything there was to see I was also a bit disappointed. The museum is the old elementary school turned community center/museum that houses memorabilia and stage sets and props from the series. We saw John-boy's room, the family room, the kitchen and the real radio on loan from the Smithsonian. But something was missing. Amidst all the celebrating and bluegrass/gospel singers it just didn't feel right. We made our way through all the rooms and the exhibits. We read everything and looked at it all. Perhaps the very most entertaining was the room dedicated to the Balwin ladies and The Recipe. There was plenty to see and read in that room. My photos do not do it justice. We took a walk down the road and stopped at the Walton's Mountain Country Store which really wasn't much of a store. It was a small building that supposedly is a country inn with rooms for rent and the store part was a tiny room not much bigger than a closet filled with a few postcards, Earl's books, a few tapes and cd's and some overpriced t-shirts for sale. Not a country store at all. Down below the store the church is beautiful. The Hamner home is in need of some TLC. The little store that is like Ike Godsey's is further down the road. I tried to take a photo of the Rockfish road sign but it came out blurry. The house across the way, in a village that thrives on the tourism that it can draw, was big and yellow and sat on the corner. As you turned the corner the back of the house and yard was visible. In the back, up against the house, was rotten furniture, the stuffing of which was laid out in a pile and left the main intersection looking like a slummy junk yard. Maybe my expectations were too high. I really don't know. I felt so lost and let down with the exhibition. I could still now almost cry over it. I walked into that museum and felt like I had walked into a room full of elementary bulletin boards put together by children. There were so many displays and the walls covered with things but it wasn't presented very well in my opinion. Knowing what I know now, should I ever return (which I will) I will not be going to the museum (I use the term loosley). The normal admission is $6 per person and children under 6 are free. It is over priced. In good faith I cannot send you and let you spend your money to walk into that building. It is not a $6 per person show. From what I understand the cast of the tv show and Mr. Hamner himself have very little to do with the place. They have made appearances in the past but now not so much. Perhaps they too are a bit shamed by it all. I am nearly in tears now. I was heart broken by the experience. On a brighter note the trip down our mountain and up to their mountain was breathtaking. I wanted to show you the amazing blaze of color from the mountains from where I live but the camera and my skill just could not capture the sheer magnificance of it all. Instead here is a rose in my orchard. October and roses are blooming. How lucky I am to live here where I do. And this tree in my front yard out shines all of the mountain views for miles and miles around. It is the first one to deck itself in glorious color. It is often said you can never go home. This I know to be true. Georgia for me no longer is home. Virginia and the Blue Ridge Mountains is now home. The ideals I learned growing up and shared by watching a television show with the rest of the nation are the same ones I teach my own children. The innocence of that time in America is long past and nearly forgotten by many. At my house it is still living and thriving.

I was going to tell you about my trip to Walton's Mountain. Instead I have to tell you about my chimney. I scheduled an appointment with a local chimney sweep for our annual cleaning of the chimneys so that we can safely heat and enjoy our winter evenings by the fireside. Wednesday the sweep was scheduled to be here at 4pm. He showed up at nearly 6:30pm. I plainly asked him if he could properly clean our chimney at night. He answered that it was no problem whatsoever. His assistant got out the ladders and brushes and climbed his way up 27 feet to the top of my chimney. The sweep, a retired fireman, came inside and set up his vacuum and dropclothes and other things he needed. The pair spent the better part of an hour brushing and vacumming. They cleaned up the mess, loaded the van and wrote out an invoice. I paid them $109 for about 45 minutes work. Not a bad hourly wage, huh? Saturday evening we laid a fire. Two things happened. One, the chimney would not draw. Two, the fire would smother out when we closed the stove door. What could be the problem?! The chimney sweep just cleaned the chimney so there couldn't be an obstruction. With smoke backing up into the house and with burning eyes we smothered the fire and gave up on it. Sunday morning, early before the sun came up, I set about to see if I could get a fire built. I opened a window just in case there was a negative draw in the chimney. Once the fire started it would burn clean and bright as long as the door was open. Close the door and it smothered out and set about smoking. We checked outside and smoke was rising from the chimney. Exasperated I closed up the fireplace and let it smother out. I planned to call the chimney sweep, you know the ex-fireman, and have him come out here and show me how to start a damn fire because for the first time in my life I can't start a damn fire! Grrrr! We heard a sudden wooomfff from the fireplace and thought well, that had to be the change in draw. Sure enough the smoke was now rising at it should up the chimney and not back into my livingroom. Defeated and pissed off I closed it back up and gave up on it until this week when I could clean it out and call the manufacturer to find out what they had to say about their noncatalytic combustion and lifetime warranty. Steve went outside to check his work on the roof. I went to the kitchen and began making the kids a late lunch. About 20 minutes later Steve came in and says, "What did you do? Smoke is pouring out of the chimney. Is the fireplace overburning?" I looked him and told him to open it up but first open the windows in case smoke started backing up. Holy Smokes!! He opens the stove door and up in the very top where the chimney pipe is was a blazing fire. We had a chimney fire in a chimney that was supposed to be clean as a whistle. A chimney fire has a roar to it that sounds like a train traveling down the tracks at a fast speed. I have heard many things describe as a sound of a train, including a chimeny fire, but this is the first time I have expereinced it and I can say that indeed it does sound like a train. Steve began raking out the burning coals. I got on the phone and called the chimney sweep and had to leave a message that I had an emergency. The sweep called me back immediately. I told him Steven was raking buckets of burning material out of the stove that was falling from the chimney. He seemed to not believe me. He promised he would have someone come out here and check the chimney about this week. Tuesday was as early as he could fit me in. I was angry but held my tongue and explained I paid him for a clean chimney and did not get a clean chimney and I want what I paid for. He agreed and was apologetic to the max. Steven kept sweeping out burning bits and pieces and eventually the fire up the stove pipe was out. We closed the fireplace and let everything die out. The chimney will be cleaned again tomorrow but I imagine after the burn it is clean as a whistle now. Again today I will clean out the firebox, vaccuum the brick liners and clean the smoked door and windows. Maybe tomorrow we will manage a warming fire in our fireplace to put all of this behind us. We are fortunate that we did not sustain any damage. We had our chimney lined last year with a stainless steel liner and the stove vent pipe. The fire did not cause any harm. I urge you that if you have a fireplace and use it at any time have it cleaned and inspected every year by a licensed chimney sweep IN THE DAYTIME when they can look down it and see the inside more clearly. A chimney fire in a normally constructed chimney can burn your house down. Don't wait. Call a sweep today and take care of your chimney. Give your family a safe warm winter. I am still a bit nervous about it all. And my house still smells of lingering wood smoke.

Updated to say: Today is not my birthday. My birthday was back in August exactly 1 month before Badger turned 40, too. (I had to add that part about Badger because I don't think any of the rest of you are 40 yet and a few of you are beyond that so ... This cheese didn't want to stand alone.) I had been planning to do this list and have only now gotten around to it. New things about me I don't think I have told you all. 1. I love to sew. When my girls were small I made everything they wore. I often dressed Colby and Gracie as if they were part of Little House on the Prairie. I told you so. 2. I love to cross stitch. Most everything I have ever made I have given away as a gift. 3. I love to crochet. While most people on the net seem to be knitters I am a crochet -er. 4. When Colby was a baby I did not have a sewing machine and sewed everything by hand. Think dresses and french seams. 5. It is far to expensive to sew for other people. They do nt seem to appreciate the time and talent to produce good work. So I do not sew for profit. 6. My most favorite Christmas movie is A Christmas Story (you know the one with Ralphie and the BB gun.) 7. My second most favorite movie is The Homecoming. 8. I identify more closely with the Walton's than with the Ingall's. 9. I fall in love more every day with this part of Virginia. I can't imagine living anywhere else. 10. I hate shaving my legs. 11. I need to do so almost every day. 12. Somedays I don't. 13. On those days you would think I had not shaved in a week. 14. I hate being a hairy girl. 15. I have to wax my upper lip. 16. Right now, I feel very old and very tired. 17. I probably will never get another pedicure in my life. The summer I was pg with Steven a nail tech broke the nail bed and my big toe nail is just now healed and growing out. 18. I like warm coke. 19. I prefer crushed ice. 20. I love turn of the century photographs. 21. I have four sets of sheets for our bed. 22. Three of those sets are red. The other is white. 23. Red flannel sheets are delicious. 24. It makes decorating our bedroom for Christmas very easy. 25. Each bed upstairs has at least 2 changing of sheets specific to each bed. There are 5 beds up there: 1 queen, 2 full, 2 twin. 26. I iron the sheets and pillow cases on my girls beds. 27. I like sleeping in a beautiful bed. 28. I get more pleasure knowing my children are sleeping just as beautifully. 29. We have become a co-sleeping family. 30. Steven sleeps with us. 31. We like it just fine. 32. Steve rarely hears the baby wake up therefore I provide 99% of his care day and night. 33. Now you know why I am really tired right now. 34. I have made 30 faux headstones for my front yard for Halloween. 35. I need to order my Christmas Cards this week. I am already 3 weeks behind on these things. 36. I tend to be very happy about there being 600+ miles between me and the rest of my family. 37. I will not be as generous in my gift giving this year as I have been in the past. Some people never thanked us for the lovely gifts they recieved, neither written nor verbal. 38. I won't be going overboard with the girls either. They get too much all year long. This year less is best. 39. I have no idea what I will be doing for Steve for Christmas this year. 40. The coming season is my most favorite time of the year. It takes alot of planning and preparation. Usually I am near the end of my to-do list by this time of the year. This year I have not even started.

Michael - not mature, sexy wasn't sexy. Tattoo Neck Jeffery - hated every single thing he presented the entire season. He should have been auf 3 weeks ago. I will never believe with the set up he has in his own business and studio that he sewed all the garments that he presented.The producers might believe him but I never will. He is a pig and has no manners. Uli - too hippy, peace and love for my tastes. Laura - Beautiful formal wear. Every piece is classic, elegant, simply beautiful. Her clothes will make you feel gorgeous. Her clothes are the kind you buy and keep forever. I hope her much success. I love her red hair and redder lipstick. I love that she did this while pregnant. I love that she is a mom of soon to be 6 children. I want to be friends with Laura. We would have a great time I think sewing together. I believe she will get her own clothing line. The company who hires her will make a fortune.

Yesterday was a busy day. Gracie saw the doctor and did some pulmonary testing. At this point in time she does not have asthma. The tests show her lungs and lung capacity to be well above normal. She is extremely healthy. Should she have another episode like she had last month in Georgia when we ended up in the hospital the doctor will begin testing her for allergies. Steven had his well baby check-up, too. He is 28 3/4 inches tall. He weighs 21 lbs 9 oz. The doctor was very impressed with his growth and developement. She says, "I what can I tell you? He is a perfect baby. He can't get much better than he already is." This we already knew. :-) I took Gracie to school, filled out all of the forms and left an emergency inhaler with school nurse. Just in case. Since it was a cool rainy morning it felt like a perfect day for chicken and dumplings. I add a few peas and carrots for color. After making the dumplings I baked it in a pie just like my kids love. The flakey crust on top is the best part. Brush with a little beaten egg for a beautiful crust. Colby had to leave for school and I served her up a helping with extra crust before I remembered to take a photo of the dumpling pie when it came out of the oven. Mmmmm ... delicious buttery crust. Then I baked pumpkin pie. Steve had requested it. Served with whipped cream and a touch of grated nutmeg. Because I like to please everyone I also baked a carrot cake. Yummy cream cheese frosting! They were all good! Tonight - leftovers. **Update The recipe for the chicken and dumplings can be found on my recipe journal.

I am member of the second wive's club. (I have been married this time 2 years and 3 months. That number shocks me because it feels like 20 years.) (I have been a married woman half of my life and the majority of my adult life.) I was a member of the first wive's club. (If I had not divorced, in a few months I would have been married 20 years. That number shocks me. My divorce became final on the very day of my 14th wedding anniversary. It has always seemed like perfect closure to a bad situation.) I am a mother to 3: 2 daughters, 19 and 8, 1 son 8 months. (At age 40 I have been a mother for half of my life.) I am a stepmother to 1: 1 daughter, 11. I am a daughter. I am a stepdaughter. I am a daughter-in-law. I am a sister. (I have been a sister for 37 years.) I am a step-sister. (I have a stepbrother and a stepsister, both much older thanI.) I am a sister-in-law. I am a cousin. I am an aunt. There are so many things I am. There are so many things we all are. So many roles to fill. So many facets to polish. Who are you?

When Steven was born we were blessed with so many gifts. At the age of 6 months we were still recieving gifts. People were very kind to us. Hi, Auntie Hope! So many of the clothes were just the cutest things. So many of the clothes were purchased out of season I feared we would not get use them. I love my schoolbus sleeper! Stevens growth is right on track. At 8+ months age he is wearing 9 months sized clothing. Which is most excellent because fall has come with blustery temperatures of winter. Frost has been on the pumpkins two mornings in a row. Living in a 98 year old farm house you can see how long sleeved, footed, one piece pajamas are very important with a baby who kicks off the covers all night long. How cute am I? The sleeper in these photos is one Hope sent when Steven was born. I kept it folded in the drawer by my bed hoping that he wouldn't outgrow it before he even got to wear it. This is one of my favorites because of the school bus motif and the plush little red car that came with it. The End Thank you again, Hope. We love this sleeper. It is soft and comfy and keeps a baby with sweaty toes the perfect temperature to sleep well. BTW, notice anything wrong with these photos? Steven hates playing inside the play yard. He wants to be outside of it. What a major waste of $65. The only reason we bought it was to be able to keep him away from the fireplace. Which we have had no problems doing. I am beginning to think we are looking at the most expensive Christmas tree barrier to keep small hands away from delicate ornaments. Other than corralling his toys I can think of no other use for it. :-/

As I sat late with the baby finally drifting off to sleep in my lap I flipped open the laptop left on by one of the girls. I randomly opened a blog saved in my bookmarks and furthered my random survey by clicking on a link in that personas blogroll and so on until I found myself on a blog with someone completing a meme. One of the questions answered was along the lines of "If there was anyone you could return from the dead who would you choose?" and the writer answered, "My Dad." It is this that I know planted a seed that manifested itself in a dream. My father is deceased. He passed away when I was 13. I went to the funeral (with my stepfather who was both gracious and a complete ass at the same time.) In the dream I was living in a community, old, with the look of photos from the 1960's. You know that yellow aged looked and slight cracking of those perfectly square black and white just getting into color film era? I was in a house were I could look out from my front porch and see the neighbors but they couldn't as easily see me. So any way ... There was this man over there. I knew him but I knew it couldn't be HIM because he is and was deceased. I was speaking to someone and I could only refer to him as "HIM" for several reasons. Eventually this person at my house that I was talking to convinced me to go over and find out if it was indeed him. It was him! Up close he looked like his brother that I had seen in photos of me as a toddler. We talked and talked. He hugged me. He answered all the questions I ever had. I woke up feeling as if an emotional weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I cannot remember any of the questions I asked but one. I cannot remember any of the answers he gave. I had asked him about other siblings and he first refused to answer than said there was another girl and a boy. But this I know in reality is not true. I am the oldest. My sister is the youngest. We are the only two. To say that I have a lot of baggage where my father is concerned would be mild. There are things I think I have dealt with and have them behind me and without warning they creep up in front of me again. There is really nothing I can do to create closure in this part of my life. There is no one who can speak for him and the decisions he made. At times I feel a huge sense of loss for things I will never know. I can't even put into words the things I want to know. I want to know what it is to be a daughter of a father. I am a daughter of a mother. I have never at any point in my life been a daughter to a father. My stepfather made no secret of the fact he was not my father and didn't want to be and had no intentions of being. I was 9 years old when my mother married him. It took less than a month to figure out he was never going to be the father I longed for. So, here I am again, trying to put old dogs to rest. They will sleep awhile and someday, soon or far, they will wake again, rise up and fill me with questions only one can answer and that one is gone. Maybe after 40 years this is the part where I put away childish things, grow up and accept the fact there will be no answers and to keep asking them is just beating a dead horse. Then again maybe not. The satisfaction and relief of the dream that lingered for days after have now passed. For those short few days a sense of peace filled me as I had never known. It sure was good while it lasted. *Name that movie.

In elementary school my very best friend through thick and thin was a girl named Kim. She had the life I wanted to have if I had to have divorced parents and a stepfather. Kim lived with her mother and stepfather. She and her little brother visited her father in Florida every summer. Her stepfather was so kind and good and her mother hadn't been too long had a baby when she started school with us. She had the stepfather I wished I had been lucky enough to get but some of it was a little icky too, almost too nice and eventually I found to be too close for comfort. (For example when she turned 13 and was able to shave her legs the entire family gathered in the bathroom and her stepfather taught her how to shave her legs and did the entire job for her the first time. That always squicked me out big time.) (Umm, Kim, if you ever find this and realize it is you well, uh, sorry, but it was/is icky to my mindset.) Other than that her stepfather was great. He took her places. He did cool things with her, for her, with their family. He was nice and you just knew he didn't drink or cuss and would never hit, slap, or punch anyone, especially not his family, wife and kids. She and I grew apart. It was mostly because her mother got a job with the school board and suddenly she was different. She began to act highfalutin. Over time we parted ways. We were still in all of the same classes throughout high school we just never did more than a passing "hi" and "see you tomorrow" kind of thing. She never seemed to act as if my friendship was important to her either. In 7th grade a new girl started school. She was sent to the wrong class, my class. As we looked over her schedule we discovered she was not only in the wrong class but the wrong grade level. I was the one chosen to escort her to the proper class. Later we pleasantly discovered that we were on the same school bus and then even more excitedly she got off the bus within a mile of my house. A new best friendship was born and lasted all through high school. Around the end of high school I got tired of her having to have her way all of the time. I stopped excusing her bitch behavior and spoiled attitude. The friendship fell apart after that. While we had been best friends, she was a tedious girl and made me tired. Once I cut the strings she never tried to contact me. So, again, I presume that the friendship never meant much to her. Just after my 17th birthday I was introduced to a young woman who was married, had a baby and was the manager of a self-service gas station. While I waited to turn 18 so I could legally be employed by the corporation we became friends. It was a relationship that never had a middle or an end. Wherever we left off today we could pick right back up tomorrow, next week or 2 years down the road. Time meant nothing to us. We saw each other through so many ups and downs. As I look back some of the things we survived together makes me almost speechless. It was some tough sh*t on both sides that we helped one another through. For 20 years she was my best friend. She was my only friend in many ways. I loved her like I have never loved another friend. She passed away in 2002. My best friend was gone. It never hit me until when I was asked not long ago who was my oldest and very best friend. My oldest best friend is ... I no longer have one... She is deceased. Steve, of course, is my best friend, lover, husband, father of my children, but it is not the same thing (and you women know this) as a best girl friend. I have spent the last couple of weeks sort of in a funk because you know what? How sad is it not to have that person who has known you forever and a day? Since moving to Virginia, from a rural farm life, to a townhouse community that would rival the United Nations, where people kept to themselves and were not in the least interested in a middle aged (yikes) white woman as a friend. There were even a black and a hispanic neighbor who were ugly about having a white friend and a bi-racial jewish neighbor that shunned the idea of being friends with a christain. They all were polite but ugly in a way that left it clear that you are an outsider, uninvited, and tolerated in their presence. It was a very odd position to be in because the racial tension was clear. And, yes, it was racial tension. To the extreme in those cases mentioned. Moving to where we live now I have made aquaintences but not friends. There is a 74 year old neighbor lady who I love dearly. She however is not best friend material. She and her husband keep to themselves pretty much. There are a couple of women in our village but because I will not attend the village church (for reasons I won't discuss, it is just bad manners) I get the feeling of being an outsider. Steve is not very social. He is very uncomfortable in crowds. He doesn't try to meet new people nor does he care about having friends. He interacts with many people at work and gets all the socialization he needs during his day. He doesn't seem to understand my want of couples type friends. Once he even asked why I would need any other friends if I have him. It was a comment/question I tried to respond to but could never make him understand. He still doesn’t. I have joined and volunteered in some historical venues with the hopes of meeting people, women, my age, who live locally and hopefully will find a kindred spirit, a friend, someone who shares my interests and hobbies. I wonder if my idea of a best friend, one who has known me through the good and the bad since my teen years, is a thing of the past and something I will never find again. Does this sound depressing? It is not meant to be. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I guess what I am trying to say is that I want someone to go have a cup of coffee with, or go shopping with, or sit on my back deck with and drink a whole bottle of red wine and giggle like school girls with. I want someone around who isn't only nice to me because of something I can do that they want me to do for them. I need a real life, in the flesh, look me in the eye, female friend. I feel horrid for saying so when I have the most dearest online friend in the world. I am blessed to have met so many wonderful people online. I am blessed to have developed incredibly close friendships and relationships that would have otherwise been impossible without the internet. Those friendships are very hard to explain to those who don't understand this world we have created in cyberspace. You have no idea how much knowing you all are out there means to me. Who is your dearest and best friend in the world?

I like looking at my site stats. Not because I am interested in the numbers. Not in any way. No indeed. I love seeing where all the people come from who observe the view into my window of my world. You know who are. I know where you are (sort of, stats are never exact). These are who have dropped in this morning since 5am until now that I am posting. So many of you already! :-) Alaska, Anchorage, United States California, Lancaster, United States California, Los Angeles, United States California, San Jose, United States California, San Mateo, United States Colorado, Denver, United States Georgia, Hinesville, United States Illinois, Chicago, United States Iowa, Breda, United States Kansas, Lenexa, United States Kansas, Wichita, United States Maryland, Baltimore, United States Maryland, Bethesda, United States Maryland, Germantown, United States Massachusetts, Middleboro, United States Michigan, Ann Arbor, United States Michigan, Bay City, United States Michigan, Grand Haven, United States Michigan, Mt. Pleasant, United States Missouri, Kirksville, United States New Jersey, Livingston, United States New York, Brooklyn, United States New York, New York, United States New York, Scarsdale, United States North Carolina, Mooresville, United States Ohio, Cleveland, United States Ohio, Toledo, United States Oregon, Beaverton, United States Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, United States Tennessee, Dickson, United States Tennessee, Hixson, United States Texas, Houston, United States Tennessee, Memphis, United States Tennessee, Nashville, United States Texas, Crosby, United States Texas, Humble, United States Texas, Wylie, United States Virginia, Alexandria, United States Virginia, Ashburn, United States Virginia, Galax, United States Virginia, Herndon, United States Virginia, Lynchburg, United States Virginia, Reston, United States Virginia, Virginia Beach, United States Washington, Issaquah, United States Wisconsin, Clintonville, United States Wisconsin, Kenosha, United States Australian Capital Territory, Canberra, Australia Queensland, Brisbane, Australia Tasmania, Hobart, Australia Ontario, Uxbridge, Canada Ontario, Toronto, Canada I get excited seeing all the countries you represent. And there are so very many more of you who come back day after day. I like to think of you all as potential friends. Not online personalities but potential real life friends who care about me and my family. From as far away as Australia. From as close to home as Alexandria, Virginia. To all of you and those inbetween - Won't you come in and sit a spell? Coffee or tea? I'd love to meet you all. Thank you for stopping by. Welcome to my world. **Update** It was never my intention to leave anyone out. I was just noting the visitors of the morning on which I posted. The following graphic is the complete list of countries from whence you all come. (I hope.) Or rather it is more correct to say from where the server says your IP originates from. By no means was the first list everyone who drops in. I am sorry if anyone's feelings got hurt or you felt left out.

Those rains we had last month? Did more damage than we thought. This is what my dining room ceiling looks like this morning. This is part of the original house. Lathe and plaster ceiling. Very cool. This baby has been doing this since we came back from Georgia. He turned 8 months over the weekend. I suspect he may be walking before the month is out. He is very brave and lets go without having his balance. He is very cool, also. I am not so sure I am ready for him to grow up so fast but I am excited to be in his presence and able to witness every single one of his success to date. I pray I am always blessed to do so.

There was a time when I loathed the taste of coffee. Seriously. I did. I loved the smell of brewing coffee but I hated the bitter heavy taste and hated that aftertaste even more. But now I love coffee and drink at least a pot every day. The End. No. Not the end. I learned to drink coffee over a period of about 6 months. And I do mean that I literally LEARNED to drink coffee. It was back those dark days of D-I-V-O-R-C-E (say it like Tammy Wynette) when you try to find yourself, reinvent yourself or just plain want (need) to change yourself. Having tried many diets in my day to drop the weight I listened to people (women) (skinny women) tell me how they once where big fatties and when they started drinking coffee they began to be less hungry and therefore ate less during the day and then one day the magic skinny fairy came along and sprinkled them with skinny powder and voile! they were no longer big fatties but coffee drinking skinnies. Short version of this story - It did not happen for me. Sure I drank more coffee, ate less, but did not drop any weight. So much for the coffee diet. Since that time in my life I have developed an appreciation for coffee. A good hot cup of coffee first thing in the morning is a neccesity. And also a treat! Having a cup of coffee during the day is like having dessert for me. And it is not the caffiene. I can sleep after drinking an entire pot of high test as easily as having the decaf. I have this ideal of what coffee is or should be. It is the days when this country was being settled. The coffee pot was brewed full and strong. Women brewed up a pot of coffee for their hard working men every morning and night. Hot coffee and sandwiches served in times of crisis. Hot coffee at every meal. We southerners like our sweet (and unsweetened) iced tea but we like our coffee as well. I can't even put into words this feeling or picture I have in my mind of what coffee represents. Cowboys drink it by the evening fire on the open range. Rescue workers drink it by the gallons to get through greuling hours of labor. Every factory worker, farmer, fisherman, miner, truck driver, waitress, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, pretty much starts, gets through and ends their day with a simple cup of black coffee. When it comes to coffee I can be a bit of a pureist. When I want coffee I want coffee and not one of those strangely named creations from places like $t@rBucks and whatnot. Coffee from those places makes my mouth turn over giving me a full body shiver. The taste is not to my pleasure. I prefer a columbian coffee with a good roast. I don't care for french roast. I don't care for beans from other parts of the world. Columbian is my coffee of choice. Nothing is more perfect that a steaming cup of black with a splash of cream. Steven drinks his just black. No cream splash. Colby drinks her's black with 1 packet of equal (sometimes splenda). See? We are the non-fussy just give it to me kind of coffee drinkers. When I recieved an email asking me if I would participate in sampling Folger's new Gourmet Selections coffee I was a bit hesitant because I don't really do coffee flavors but I do like Folger's. (I just bought one of those handy dandy new containers from folgers that keeps your coffee fresher longer. It does work. There is indeed a longer period of freshness. Before one of you coffee fanatics gets after me, yes, I do know that fresh ground is a more perfect way to make every pot of coffee but I am too lazy to grind the beans everytime. I am also too cheap to buy one of those grind/makers that magically grinds and brews and delivers steaming milk on the side. BUT if someone out there wants to send me one of those machines to try and review I would not turn you down. Nope. I sure wouldn't. A coffee center in my kitchen would be bitch'n.) When I said I would try the new Folger's I didn't know if I would get one tiny package of each flavor that makes one pot of coffee to try or if I would be given a chance to taste and then taste again and really have an informed taste bud opinion of the Folger's product. I was told I would recieve the coffee samples in 6-8 weeks and would I please inform the sender of the posting of my review. Imagine my surprise when 1 week later I recieved a box with the gourmet selections coffee from Folger's. I recieved the Vanilla Biscotti, Morning Cafe and Lively Columbian. Had I known the Chocolate Truffle was available I would have begged for it. I mean seriously, everyone knows that if there is a chocolate anything available it should go out the door first. First I tried the Vanilla Biscotti. I love vanilla. I love biscotti. The coffee is a wonderful flavor combination. If you just so happen to have chocolate dipped biscotti on hand to have with the coffee you will want to make sure everyone is at work and/or school and the baby is down for the long afternoon nap so you can indulge alone savoring the coffee and the biscotti. I liked this coffee. I can see myself serving it to guests as well as having an occassional pot alone for myself. It is not a coffee that I could wake up too every morning. The flavor is just too full on to start the day with. I probably would not drink everyday. The flavor is such that it is for me an occassional thing. Next I moved on to the Morning Cafe. O'kay. People. I could start every morning of the year with this blend. This is a smooth, wake me gently flavor. It smells wonderful while brewing. The first cup is like the first fingers of sunlight that break the eastern sky. Delicious. Then I had the Lively Columbian. Columbian. My favorite. Just perfect. Thank you very much. This is a fine coffee. Just fine. This one I brewed in the afternoon. Because lively is what I need to be after Steven has had his nap. Now I have tried other flavor blend coffee (you know that one that will also send you a free coffee maker or stainless stell thermal carafe and starts with a 'G'?)and I didn't like it at all. Folger's has produced a superior product that suits my tastes. And I think it might suit yours as well. Give it try. There is only one thing I would change if I were making the Folger's Gourmey Selections coffee. Amaretto flavor. I love Amaretto coffee after a nice dinner. It would be a wonderful flavor to have during the holidays, too. Folger's? What do you think? Amaretto maybe in the future? Please?

You know those Geico commercials with the celebrity to help speak for/with the real life Geico customers? Peter Graves ROCKS! "I put on some tangerine lip gloss and answered the door." "I was one lucky woman." Deadpan Comedic Gold!! I LOVE this one. The others? Not so much. That is all. P.S. Did you know Peter Graves is James Arness' (Gunsmoke) baby brother? P.P.S. Did you know Peter Graves is the original Mission Impossible TV star? P.P.P.S. 80 years old and still smokin' hot. I am having trouble commenting on blogger. Is it because many of you have switched over to beta? Anyone else having troubles?

With so much to read and with more and more being published every minute of the day, do you ever wonder about the books written in the distant past? Do you ever revisit the books that were once required reading in high schools (and college)? Do you constantly seek out the new and wait for the next volume a writer may be working on? As much as I want to be a great American writer I do not believe I have the talent to be so. And that is okay. It is something I accept. It has freed me to write for myself and not worry about what a reader would think -of my talent, my skills, my word choice and even of myself. Perhaps I will one day finish a novel and maybe it will be next month during NaNoWriMo. And maybe it won't. But the desire is there. Saturday Steve and I stopped in a used book store run by Friends of the Library. Many of the books were old from the 1930's and 40's. Some were more modern. Much of the fiction was the likes of V.C. Andrews and John Grisham, etc. There wasn't near as many paperback books as you would expect to find in a used book store. As I worked my way around the walls of the narrow little building I delighted myself with a few cookbooks from the 1930's. (50 cents!!) I choose a couple of first edition books from the turn of the century with such mundane (hahaha!) topics as Napolean and Queen Victoria which will be excellent gifts for Colby for Christmas. She will just scream with delight. Steve was much more methodical and studied sections of books like a scientist. He chose several books that dealt with the history of the world and such having been written by H.G. Wells and whatnot. Not really my cup of tea but the cookbooks weren't his so we were even. In a box on the floor I thumbed through old hardbacks of ladies fiction and was pleased to read the dust jackets. For some reason it just made me smile. I did choose one of these books and brought it home with me for $1. I like the title and lovely red binding. If it turned out to be boring and a struggle to get through I hadn't really lost anything because for the moment the books had given me at least a dollars worth of pleasure and delight in its discovery. Last night as I soaked in a hot bath I broke open the red book and instantly fell in love with the charming lead character and the voice and tone in which the author wrote. So pleased am I that I formulated a plan to hurry back down to the store today ASAP to see if the sister novel to the one I chose might be in that old box or somewhere on the dusty shelves. What did I find? I am so glad you asked! The Man Miss Susie Loved by Augusta Tucker. The sister novel Miss Susie Slagle was adapted to a screen play in the 40's and featured Lillian Gish. I was so charmed by the style of writing that I did a little research and found this on rootsweb:

Tucker, Augusta. Second Interview. Hazel B. Greene Journalist February 9, 1938 Interview with Augusta Tucker Fort Towson, Oklahoma I was born in 1867, at Indianapolis, Indiana. My father, Dr. O. N. Tucker, was born in South Carolina, but my mother, Sara Ann Apple Tucker, was born in Indiana. My father, Dr. O.N. Tucker, was selected by the Choctaw council as a white physician to administer to the sick, wounded, etc., of Doaksville and the surrounding community. There were plenty of Indian Medicine Men, but some of the most progressive citizens thought that a man who had graduated from a Medical College should be more competent to care for the sick, so they held a meeting and decided to "import" a white doctor. My father applied for the honor of being selected by the Council of the Choctaw Nation, and won the place, over the applications of several more, so he and his family of children some of us grown, moved over into the Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory, in January, I believe of 1884.Before coming to the Territory we had been living at Paris, Texas, to which state we had come from Indiana. I, being one of the grown children, and being qualified to teach school, began doing that all over the country. I taught up north of Doaksville, I taught at Doaksville, and I taught a school on Scott Hill, which is now called Terry Hill at the west edge of the present town of Hugo. I also taught out at the Long Creek School, in the Turnbull neighborhood: that was about 3 miles northwest of the present town of Hugo. Then of course, there was no Hugo and Goodland was the railroad station. In those days, "the teacher" was considered pretty smart, simply because she knew enough to teach school, and she automatically became a leader in all social and religious activities. She was suppose to lead the singing at the funerals; she was supposed to be always introducing new games at the parties of the neighborhood. She was called upon to write deeds and mortgages, and pioneer teachers in the Indian Territory frequently held Notary Public commissions. Being "the teacher" was, I suppose, one of the reasons that Thomas E. Sanguine selected me to make notes for him at a meeting that was held at Goodland, and I believe that meeting was one of the first meetings of the Dawes commission to be held in the Choctaw Nation. Few who were there that day are living today. The party got off of the train at Goodland and walked about an eighth of a mile to a grove of trees, where benches and a speakers stand had been placed for the comfort and convenience of the people who would speak and listen to the speakers. I am not sure of the date of that meeting, but of course, it is a mater of history. I simply am calling attention to the fact that I was one of the many in attendance that day, and am one of the few who are living today. I am past seventy now. Among those present whom I recall were: Bailey Spring, Thomas E. Sanguine, Green McCurtain, Willie W. Wilson, V. M. Locke Sr., Frank Ledbetter and I believe George Scott of Stigler was there. He is the son-in-law of Green McCurtain. The object of the speeches was to persuade the Choctaw Indians of the advisability of individual allotment of the Indian Lands. I made notes of all of the speeches that were made that day, but unfortunately I never kept them. I imagine that they are on record somewhere. I remember, especially one old "Snake" Indian, Ben. He had ridden his little pony all the way from away up in the sand hills in Cedar County, to be at that meeting and represent his community. But he was never convinced that individual allotments were the best thing for the Indians. Poor old fellow, he was so old then that he looked pitiful after his long ride. He lived to be nearly a hundred years old and dropped dead after a ride of about twenty miles on his little pony to attend a funeral of a granddaughter.

As I searched a little more I found this in the New York Times:

Paid Notice: Deaths TOWNSEND, AUGUSTA TUCKER Published: March 9, 1999 TOWNSEND-Augusta Tucker. 94. On March 5, 1999. Survived by many nieces and nephews. Funeral service on Thursday, March 11, 11 AM, at the Episcopal Cathedral of the Incarnation, Baltimore, MD. Graveside service Thursday, March 11, 2:30 PM, at St. Anne's Cemetery, Annapolis, MD. John M. Taylor Funeral Home Inc.

I can't help but wonder what she was like in person as charmed as I am by her words. I have decided to try and read more of those dusty old books at the used book store and not try to seek out the newer popular fiction. For some reason new fiction doesn't impress me these days. I find I am easily bored with the popular writers of our day. I find that a lot of the subject matter doesn't suit me. Heaven forbid I should get offended by some of the subject matters. Maybe I am tired of the attempts to be titillated with less than savory characters or stations in life. Whatever the reason I am now charmed with the past and will be seeking out more of these old books to be my companions through the long cold winter. I have also decided that I should try to find my voice in my writing style and will give much attention to an attempt at writing and being charming next month for the NaNoWriMo -unless real life gets in the way -which it does tend to do at the most inoportune time. Is anyone out there considering giving NaNo a try this year? I need a buddy to kick me in the rear encourage me when I start slipping this time. Raehan? Are you writing this time? Badger? You can add me as a Buddy through the profile section. Here's mine. Anyone? Please?!? ... Steve did some maintenance on his Deere saturday. It needed a good lubing and an oil change. Steven helped. Content to just sit with his Daddy and play.
Inspecting dirt -one grain of sand at a time.
Dirty Fingers = Hard Days Work.