A Collecrtion of Stuff

Readers may wonder why there hasn't been a post in the last 30 days.  Well I haven't posted because it is now getting into crunch time.  My job has many things to do before I can walk out the door and never return and the house is in a state of mess.  My husband and I are still trying to go through everything and reduce stuff!  You know that stuff you think you might need again and keep in a box somewhere in the house. 

When Amy and her sister and brother were all in college I had them go through their childhood toys and select the toys they wanted to keep until they had children.  They kept a variety of toys and we have been lugging those toys around for the last 15 years.  I recently pulled out the 7 boxes of childhood toys and books.  I wanted to see if I should move them to Heir Head Manor or put them in the trash.  When I opened the boxes, I knew they should go in the trash.  The toys they had they loved and played with a lot were broken and the white plastic had yellowed.  The books smelled musty and as I looked at the toys and books I thought about our grandchildren.  Would they want to play with the Barbie stuff or Strawberry Shortcake?

Amy called during one of my breaks from the basement cleaning.  I told her I was throwing out the toys and books.  She couldn't believe I would put them in the trash.  I explained that the toys were old and yellowed or broken but her childhood memories were filled with fun times playing with the toys.  I told her that her nieces and nephew would not want to play with the toys today.  Amy wanted to know if any of the toys would be good enough to take on the PBS "Antique Road Show".  I had to inform her that while they had saved some of the toys in boxes they were not old enough to be antiques so no we couldn't be on the show.  Amy reluctantly let go of the toys and books everything but her doll that she slept with each might.  I will bring the doll to Heir Head Manor but the doll was loved and now is in bad shape.  I know Amy will be surprised to see her doll because her memory doesn't match the reality.

It took me many weeks to go through the stuff and most of the stuff went into the trash so in the future I will try to not accumulate the stuff in the first place.  Heir Head Manor will not have room for a collection of stuff to accumulate so I hope I can always throw the stuff in the trash rather than waiting for 3 years and then during a cleaning frenzy throw it in the trash.  No wonder our landfills are full.  We all have too much stuff!

The Great Outdoors

Living in the Northeast is like living in the great outdoors.  There are many opportunities to hike, fish, water ski, snow ski, swim and many other outdoorsy sports.  I like to be outside, enjoying nature like everyone.  I grew up snow and water skiing with my family.  What drew my husband and I to the Northeast was the ability to still participate in these sporting events.  Living in the Midwest there is not as much opportunity and what is consider a mountain for snow skiing can only really be a very tiny hill but snow ski on this tiny hill they do. 

 Amy and her Sunshine recently went on an all day hike where they hiked to a lake with small cabins.  Amy was telling me about the hike and the cute cabins.  "It is a first come, first serve type of cabin", she said.  I was a little perplexed by this so I began to ask a few question.  "Do the cabins have someone who cleans them?"  "Clean them, oh no!"Amy stated.  I began to think: cabins in the woods, people can stay at the cabins for free and they are not cleaned.   Hm mm I asked more questions "Is there running water?"  Then it came "Mother, these are not luxury condos.  There is no running water or cleaning lady way out in the woods.  There is an outhouse for bathroom facilities and a lake for bathing but wouldn't it be great for all of us to go on the hike and stay in the cabins?"

Hm mm, no it wouldn't be great for me I told her.  We took you camping when you were little.  We slept in an uncomfortable tent, used crummy bathrooms but had lots of fun camping with our children.  I would love to go on the hike for the day but I do not want to stay in the cabins that are never cleaned, have an outhouse and no running water.  I like a few amenities and I have no desire to do without those amenities anymore.  I guess that is what age does to a person---makes you want to have running water.  Now it's not that I am fussy but I am not even sure my 8 year old granddaughter would want to stay in the cabins. 

Amy and her Sunshine are planning on taking her nieces, one is eight and one is eleven, on the hike and staying in the cabin.  I am sure the girls will love the hike but I can almost hear the nightly conversation.  "The mosquitoes are bothering me.  I can't use the bathroom because it stinks.  We can't watch T.V."  Maybe I'll be wrong and the girls will love the hike and the overnight stay in the cabins without running water and a cleaning lady.  As for myself, I will be at home enjoying the lake from my backyard and going into my house with running water and a cleaning lady--myself.  That is my idea of a great summer evening in the great outdoors.

Hot time in the Old Barn Tonight

In previous posts I have discussed the quaint weekend activities that take place here on the islands, Christmas tree bonfires, golf tournaments on ice skates, and barn dances.   When I first read about the barn dances in the newspaper it conjured up images of western wear including plaid shirts, wrangler jeans, and of course cowboy boots.  All worn by amiable folks boot scooting the night away in a bright red barn hung with twinkling lights and hay bales for seating.

My mother was so enamored at the thought of a charming night line dancing in a down home environment she pestered my Sunshine and I endlessly about attending one of the barn dances.  "Come on Aim, just go it will be fun and then you can blog about."  I heard time after time, that is until on a recent visit we drove her past the barn where the dances are held and then her reaction turned to "ewww".

That's right this is not some quaint plaid shirt wearing barn dance straight out of the set of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers this is a rough and tumble camouflage wearing ride up on your ATV shoo the animals out of the barn so we can get to drinkin kind of dance.  This is a crush beer cans on your head grab the little woman who is covered in tattoos and sporting a mullet  (I am not lying about this there are tons of mullets here.  "I see mullets they don't know their mullets") kind of dance.

As we cruised through the country side my mom pointed out cute barn after cute barn that would have been an ideal setting for a barn dance complete with checked table clothes and homemade pies, but that is not the reality of barn dancin round here.  So if you want a night of some rough and tumble entertainment grab your siscors shear yourself a mullet and ride off on your ATV to the biggest baddest barn dancin jamboree you've seen this side of the Mason Dixon.

Ball Drops

As I have stated over and over our cake pop business seems like a winner but I am beginning to have my doubts.  Amy has stated in her previous blogs that the beautiful cake pops atop a stick will suddenly slide down the stick for no apparent reason.  How true!!  I was making another birthday bouquet of cake pops for my granddaughter when I looked over at the three pops that I had made and this was the picture of loveliness that I saw.  Ugh!  What happened and why didn't they stay on top of the stick? 

Cake pops are a fun confectionery treat that gives the baker a difficult time.  You must shape and melt the candy so that all will stay on top the the tiny little stick when all the while gravity is fighting to bring it down.  It is a wonder that any cake pops stay up at all but indeed many cake pops do.  However, the frustration of making 20 cake pops for a bouquet and throwing away at least 6 of them to the ball drop is a nightmare.  As the reader can see once they fall the next step is the trash since there is no amount of work that will fix the fallen, misshapen dropped ball.  The stick is also gooey and sticky so the whole thing must do directly to the trash.

It is a wonder that you can actually make enough good pops to go into the box for mailing.  I am not sure what we would do with an order of 20 birthday bouquets to ship.  That would be a total of 400 cake pops to make and I can only picture Amy and I totally frustrated by the sound that comes when a pop drops to the bottom of the stick.  At least 50 pops out of the 400 would fall and have to be thrown out.  Amy and I would never get to leave the kitchen.  It would be an endless day of making the round little misshapen balls atop a stick and then the ball drops like a rock.  And the adventure would not be complete without packaging for shipping!  Oh, the packaging!!  The packaging requires careful handling so that the pops are perfect upon arrival.  Oh, I think our little business is in jeopardy of failing before it has started.

People are Strange................

Since I have started my job at the local school I have come to learn many unique colloquialisms that describe the various people who inhabit this area.  In most places people are just that people they may have different features or beliefs, but they are united through the bonds of their community,that is not the case here.  The following is a list I have compiled of the various terms I have heard to describe the groups of people living here, and yes there are many, many groups.

Donut people.  Don't let the name fool you there is nothing fried, rolly polly, or glazed about these people the donut people are people like my parents.  Outsiders who with all their high fluting ways have come in to buy up all the nice spots on the water while the locals have to inhabit the inside of the donut which as we all know is just an empty hole.  My question is what if the donut is jelly filled does the analogy still work?

Next there are Summer people.  Now summer people can also be donut people in which case they would be called summer donut people.  The summer people flock to the islands in well yeah you guessed it the summer but leave the harsh winters to the locals.  Summer people go in for all the fancy cafes and restaurants that the locals avoid.  "I mean who ever heard of paying four dollars for a cup of coffee and just what is Starbucks?" Darn those summer people.

And don't forget the Down Islanders.  The down islanders are people who were all born and bred here but live on the islands that are down from us and everybody knows that in this town we don't associate with the down island crowd.  Those down islanders with their big city ways and fancy school that has two hundred students to our fifty students.  I don't know how the donut summer down island people can even look themselves in the mirror?  At first meeting do you have to introduce yourself that way.  "Hi my name is Bob I am a down island summer donut person." Fun!

So you might ask who are we.  Well not me of course I am the offspring of summer up island donut flatlanders.  I might as well banish myself from town right now.  The people who I currently reside around are the up islanders people who have lived on this land for generations and know everything about everyone and their grandma literally.  They are a clan who fish from the lake winter and summer, love their camouflage, could single handedly bring back the mullet for men and women, (judging by many hair cuts), and take pride in their roots. 

They are not bad people just people well versed in their ways.  So for all you flatlanders (this is the term for anyone not from Vermont, yes people from Colorado, Montana, Idaho etc. with huge glorious mountains that includes you.  You haven't seen anything till you've seen these bumps we call mountains.)  You can come and visit, you can even stay awhile, but don't be surprised if you are introduced to a seventh generation member of the Vermont royalty who let's you know in so many terms that you are just a summer donut up island down island flatlander and offers to give you a mullet.

Tofurky Anyone?

My husband and I have decided it is much healthier to eat from the plant family only.  That is easier said than done especially when you have eaten meat and dairy for the last 50 plus years.  However, we have begun this journey and I have created several meals that we both enjoy.  I was feeling as though I needed more knowledge about the Vegan subject so I went to the bookstore to find a new Vegan cookbook.  I purchased a cookbook that not only had recipes but also had good information about this lifestyle.  I learned that I am not a Vegan since I love to have my pumpkin pie made with eggs and topped with real whip cream.  I have seen Amy make her pumpkin pie without using eggs and I must say I didn’t eat any.  There are just some foods that must have the good old butter, eggs and cream.  Oh and every now and then I do love to have a good steak!  Could Thanksgiving day be a good dinner with tofurky?  I have my doubts.  Tofurky at Thanksgiving brings back the memory of the episode on "Everybody Loves Raymond" where Marie makes a jelled tofurky and nobody likes the taste.  Now, tofurky is not that bad but I do think on that holiday turkey is in order.

I couldn’t decide how I was going to be a Vegan with my desires to have dairy and meat every once in a while.  As I was reading my new cookbook the author was listing the different types of vegetarians, and Vegan was one type but wait there was another type that was not so extreme---Flexitarian!!!  That is me—I am a Flexitarian!  I eat mostly vegetables but once in a while I will eat meat and dairy.  My husband was the one who found this section of the cookbook and pointed out that we were Flexitarians.  He loves to eat a giant bowl of ice cream for dinner almost every week night.  That is why he was searching for an alternative to being a Vegan.  He refuses to part with the ice cream made from milk and he will not even taste ice cream made from coconut milk. 

We can now continue our new diet with the knowledge that we are eating healthier without the extreme of never eating meat again.  We are Flexitarians who will once in a while eat meat and dairy.  Thanksgiving and Christmas would not be Thanksgiving or Christmas without meat and dairy!  Now we can continue with the holiday traditions that have been established and on those regular week days we will be Vegans.  What a wonderful way to be healthy, yet now we can still have those favorite foods that we only eat once in a while!  Tofu scrambler anyone?

When I retire?

I have been very busy with work.  Many people at work think I am not doing much since I am a "short timer".  Being a "short timer" actually causes more work and then there are the after school events.  On the weekends I have been trying to clean out closets and clothes to pare things down.  I still have the basement and garage to clean out so I am not finished yet.  In my haste to work and clean out stuff at home, I have been putting many items off until I actually do retire.  I am beginning to feel overwhelmed by the long list that awaits me when I do retire.  I will need to:

·         Look for a new job--jobs may be difficult to find but surely someone would want to hire a very old educator!

·         Do something with all the pictures of the family that are piled in a box--make wallpaper out of them.

·         Write a book--life behind the doors of the school could be entertaining.

·         Plant a garden---will need to grow our organic food.

·         Remodel the kitchen--want to go to the auction to find cabinets at a reduced price or maybe Amy and I should make the cabinets since we are making everything else.

·         Paint the screened in porch--must get the house in the Midwest ready for sale, oh joy.

·         Go to my son’s house to be his accountant--no I am not an accountant but how hard can it be?

·         Decide what I am doing with my investments--again I am not an investment banker but really there only so much that can be done with a small amount.

·         Research the family history--that should be interesting since our family is from so many states, road trip Amy?

·         Work with Amy on our new business--cake pops here we come, maybe??

And the list goes on.  It is easy to put off projects until retirement but how is it retirement when the list of projects is so long?  I have seen those commercial on television that show a retired person doing only what they want to do.  Wow that is an accomplishment!  I won’t be able to do what I want to do for at least three years or until all the projects are complete.  I will let the reader know when I get to the point that life is project free, if I ever get to that point.

On Thin Ice

With the winter chill in the air and the lake completely frozen it is no wonder that so many people love to drive across it's slick shiny surface.  Having seen trucks, cars, and atvs sail across the ice I finally had enough of watching and decided it was time for some doing of my own.

As we loaded the dogs into the car and I got behind the wheel to drive us to the spot we like to hike around inspiration struck and instead of turning the wheel and heading down the driveway into the road I banked a hard right hitting the gas pedal as I sailed through the yard.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw my Sunshine reach up and the grab the oh s$#t handle, but I studiosly ingnored him as I increased the speed and our car jumped up and over the embankment and onto the ice.  The adreniline was pumping as I skidded along twisting, turning, and breaking.

"You don't know how thick the ice is here" my Sunshine cautioned.  "Don't forget we have dogs in the car."  I let out a manic laugh and did a serious of figure eights before I throttled the gas once more and powered back up over the embankment to plow through the yard and Dukes of Hazard it onto the driveway.

Glancing back at the ice I could see the tracks the crazy ride we had taken had produced.  I can see why people love to go ice fishing.  Well not for the fishing, the sitting and waiting, or the catching but for the thrill of speeding across the ice full throttle never knowing if the next few feet will plunge you into the icy depths of the frozen lake.

Ice driving will not become my new hobby.  My Sunshine returned from work the next day after our thrill ride and reported that he had heard about two men who were driving across the ice and broke through.  The two men had managed to escape unharmed, but the truck had been abandoned to rust in it's icy tomb.

Despite the danger I still vow that every year at least once I will plow through the yard jump the embankment and fly free across the ice pedal to the metal blood pumping.  Next year I think I'll take my Mom for the ride of her life.  I'll just lure her into the car by telling her we're going shopping now that will be a ride to remember.

To Market, To Market

A year ago our daughter and her two year old child came to live with us in the Midwest since her husband was stationed in Afghanistan.  Oh, did I mention that she was pregnant with twins.  She lived with us while she had the twins.  Tina is a firm believer in only buying organic groceries.  I can’t tell the reader how many times she would say “Oh My God if you can only buy one organic item it must be potatoes.”  “OMG if you can only buy one organic item it must be ketchup.”  “OMG if you can only buy one organic item it must be apples.”

Last weekend I went to the grocery store.  A simple thing to do that should not have taken much time; however, it took me forever!  I wanted to buy apples but the organic apples were now mushy.  The apples laden with chemicals were hard and crisp as the fall day they were picked.  Why is that?  I had the same experience with cucumbers.  The organic cucumbers were now soft and wimpy while the others were firm and nice.  Why is that?  I do know that last summer I had a cucumber in my refrigerator about 4 days old and one that had just been picked from my tiny garden and mine rotted must faster.  So how old is the non organic produce in the store?  What have they done to make it last so long and seem so fresh?  I left the store with half the items on my list not purchased.

I am very excited to plant our first fruits and vegetables with Amy and her Sunshine this summer.  It will be great to have all organic produce at our finger tips since the reader can see that I too have gone the way of Tina with only organic food.  I only hope that Amy is as excited as I am.  If she does not think this is a great way to get organic produce I will just have Tina come for a visit.  After a few hours with Tina’s organic mantra Amy will see the light, I hope.

A Sticky Situation

It is maple season here in Vermont and operations big and small all over the state are harvesting their maple syrup.  Spigots are attached to trees and long tubular lines slash through the landscape ready to send the fresh sap to the sugar house where it will boil down to syrup. 

Since moving here my Sunshine and I have become conisours of everything maple.  Pancakes are a regular Saturday morning staple in our house and we love nothing more but to adorn them with the sweet brown goodness of true maple syrup.

There is only one hitch in our maple syrup worship and that is the price.  A nice bottle of real maple syrup can run upwards of twenty dollars.  The syrup is well worth the money but for those of us on a budget it can seem like a needless luxury to purchase a twenty dollar bottle of this liquid gold.

So in keeping with our new pioneer spirit and embracing the culture around us we have decided to tap the maple trees on our property and begin our own maple syrup operation.  We aren't planning on anything big time just a few spigots draining into some metal buckets and a lot of boiling.

We figure if it worked for people back in Laura Ingells times it can work for us; although we will be using modern conveniences like a stove to boil the syrup and I absolutely refuse to wear my hair in two braids.  How hard can this whole maple thing really be just tap sap and boil?  What could possibly go wrong?

Fuacamole

Every Sunday night my Sunshine and I enjoy a nice meal together.  Since we enjoy a meal together well every night of the week and I am the main cook there are times when I struggle to create new and exciting dishes.  Tonight as I leafed through a cookbook trying to find something that would add pizazz to our Sunday night routine, inspiration struck.

I would make Mexican food and since we did not have any avocados for traditional guacamole I would invent fuacamole.  Now I am sure this is not a new invention and there are others who have dared to walk the path of fuacamole creation.  I only hope their results were better than mine.

As I grabbed a pack of frozen peas from the freezer I dreamed of the low fat creation I was embarking on imagining leagues of hungry eaters munching down my fuacamole with chips unaware that the whipped green dip they indulged in was actually peas.

The hum of my food processor whirled as I blended peas, spices, jalapenos, and garlic trying to add just the right touch to my culinary masterpiece.  The consistency seemed good even if the radioactive  green color betrayed a bright contrast to your average guacamole, but this was not average guacamole this was fuacamole.

The time for dinner came and as my Sunshine and I dished up steaming plates of fajitas with all the fixings I urged him to try my fuacamole.  With a slight grimace he dropped a large dollop on his plate.  Being brave and sure that culinary delights beyond compare just waited to dazzle my tongue in the form of fuacamole I heaped a large helping onto my fajita.

The first bite told me that fuacamole does not even compare to guacamole.  It is not even the black sheep of the guacamole family.  Fuacamole is far from a party in your mouth.  There is nothing even remotely fole about fuacamole it just tastes like whirled up peas with all the spices the diced tomato,onion, and jalapeno swallowed up inside it's ultra green depths.

I think my Sunshine said it best.  After dinner as I lamented on the total fail of my fuacamole he remarked.  "Fuacamole has it's place if your ship wrecked on a dessert island with a fierce craving for guacamole and all your taste buds have been burned off then fuacamole would be great." 

Well perhaps instead of selling cake pops my mom and I can stand on the docks this summer selling bags of fuacamole to departing boats.  Who knows maybe fuacamole will be a trend that sweeps the nation after all!

American Made

I have been working to get ready for my big move.  One of things I have been doing is looking at my clothes and trying to determine if I need any items for New England.  I had decided that I will be wearing coats for 3 of the 4 seasons.  Since I do not have many coats and the ones I do have are old and need to be discarded, I thought I would purchase some new coats.  Easy enough to do since this is the time of year for great sales.  Not so fast, that last time I talked to Amy she discussed the importance of not purchasing items made in China due to labor practices and chemicals used in production.  Our family is a firm believer of boycotting items or stores that do not maintain ethical practices.  Amy had read about the many unethical practices used by China to produce goods sold in America.  I agreed with her decision to not purchase any items made in China.

One of the big box stores was having a sale on all women's coats.  All coats were being sold for 20 dollars.  Now I, like Amy, love a bargain so my husband and I set out for the store so we could partake in the great deals.  When I got to the women's section, I first looked for a stylish coat.  I found a cute and stylish coat but Amy's words rang out "We are not buying items made in China"!  I began to read the label on my perfect coat selection.   "Made in China" was on the label.  I put the coat back on the rack and began reading all the labels.  When my husband found me in the women's section he was shocked to see me holding a lime green puffer coat.  "You're not buying that coat are you?"  No, I stated I am reading the label to determine where it was made.  I was amazed he would think I would purchase lime green puffer coat.  I could just envision myself coming down the ski mountain in lime green.  Everyone would know when I was at the bottom of the mountain.

After reading the label of every coat in the women's section, I discovered that not one coat was made in America.  When I told my husband that we were not purchasing items made in China, he began is long lecture about a global world and that we are forever connected yada yada yada.  I grabbed the stylish coat, purchased it and left the store with my husband still lecturing about the state of our economy and our global connection.  My husband has his Ph.D. in  business so I have learned not engage in his lectures or they will go on for hours.

When we returned home, I began reading all the labels on all my coats.  All were made in China or Vietnam.  How do we buy American if all or most of our clothes are made in China?  I began to picture myself a year from now in a wool sweater that Amy knitted.  Oh, that is a scary mind movie especially since Amy has no idea how to knit!  I can't knit, sew or doing anything that requires creativity.  It could be a very granola year at Heir Head Manor with everyone wearing homemade clothing and none us knowing how to do anything.  Maybe I should start the boycott after I have purchased all the needed items.  That sounds like a wise plan.  I am going shopping tomorrow.

I Wonder.......

As the time draws near for my mother's move into Heir Head Manor I ponder several things.  Through the years as our lives grow and change how will my mom and I's relationship form.  When we are both in the more senior times of our lives and still living at Heir Head Manor what kind of existence will we share?

One theory I have is that we are going to be very similar to Dorothy and Sophia from the Golden Girls.  Even though I do not tower above my mother in stature we have certain other distinctions which make us an unlikely mother daughter pair.  Also I can just imagine my mother blurting out all kinds of random sassy things to people once she is old.

She already plans to ride the ski bus that comes around and rounds up the oldsters to drop them off at the mountain.  Somehow I imagine my mother becoming part of the rowdy crowd of older folks who start their cocktail hour early and end late.

I know I won't have any problems with my father he will just crank up the heat to ninety degrees and hang out on the couch draped in an afghan watching the military channel.  I know it will be a blessing that my mom will stay active in her older years, but as I imagine the car revving out of the driveway for a hot roding trip to town in which she can barely see over the wheel I can't help but wonder..........? 

Hanging with the Crowd

This week marks the annual winter carnival festivities for the small town in which Heir Head Manor is located.  Last Friday I was zooming home late from work eager to get dinner started when a huge glow out on the lake caught my eye.  It was a roaring bonfire made from stack upon stack of Christmas trees that people had dried out and saved to pile up and burn to cinders while they consumed huge bowls of chili under a cold starry night sky.

The next day's festivities kicked off with ice hockey in a space they had cleared out on the lake and a golf tournament.  My Sunshine and I really wanted to pay the entrance fee and join the golfers zooming around the lake on skates trying to hit their balls into the holes marked with flags, but alas to enter the tournament you needed your own set of golf clubs something we do not possess.

This weekend is the pancake breakfast and bicycle race across the ice.  My mother keeps insisting that I enter the race.  Since the temperature is likely to be similar this weekend to what it was last weekend I do not relish the thought of trying to race across the ice wearing my snow pants and riding an old fashioned cruiser bicycle in baby blue with a scarf burka style across my face.

Nothing spells crash, burn, and permanent brain damage to me like taking a bike out on the ice.  Leave it to my mother to push and cajole the idea despite the risk of serious injury.  "You just have to do that" she begged "just go it will be fun."

Next year I will make sure to enter my mother in the race and as she flies across the ice on an old fashioned cruiser Jessica Fletcher style basket and all I can just hear her screams.   For now I am content to just watch and work towards getting to know a few of the locals. 

Who knows maybe by next year I will have made it on to the planning committee for the festival and I can add my own event.  Something like ice skating yoga with steaming mugs of Starbucks at the end, or cake pop races try and make it to the end of the course and back before your cake pop slides down the stick.

This weekend I'll just be happy to get a few hello's from some friendly faces as I watch the daredevils brave enough to speed across the ice on two wheels and a prayer.  Knowing that next year I'll be right in the thick of it joining the local tradition of hundreds of people eating large quantities of beans around a roaring fire, but at least the firemen are standing by.

Memories

With the news that Whitney Houston had died came a flood of memories.  Our children were young when I began listening to Whitney's music.  Her music was fun and upbeat.  Great music for a mother of 3 who is trying to make sure all three children attended each of their extra curricular events.

Amy was a ballerina.  She had to go to classes twice a week and it was too far to drive so I would wait for her at the studio.  Ben was into every sport they allowed him to play and Tina was a gymnast.  The days were so hectic that when I came home from teaching second grade I didn't even get out of the car.  I would honk the horn and one of the chidren would come out with their bag ready to go.  Some days two children came out ready to go and that was a challenge to get both children to their different events at the same time.  Since I spent many hours waiting for children to be finished with their lessons I often sat in the car grading papers and listening to the radio.  Of course Whitney Houston was always on since she was very popular.  Her death brought back memories of her songs and me waiting for children.  Motherhood is all about waiting. 
As I move into this new adventure of my life, I wonder what music will mark this stage?  Since we will be living together, will the music that Amy likes influence the music I listen to?  Possibly but not necessarily.  Amy loves the old style like Dean Martin, Billie Holiday and I am more of the Mary J. style.  Our music choice may be different but Heir Head Manor will be filled with music that will create memories.

The Fat of the Land

One of my goals while living here at Heir Head Manor is to become more Eco conscious and build a network that is self sustaining.  As I have already discussed in previous blogs one of the ways we intend to do this is by starting a large garden where we will be able to harvest our own fruits and vegetables.

Since moving here and becoming part of a culture where people live off the land, raising their own animals to butcher and eat I have come to a new mind set.  It is not enough for me to bring my reusable bags to the grocery store or have my own garden.  I have decided to go completely local in what I eat, wear, and do.

As I told my mother tonight.  I have decided to learn to knit as part of my contribution to becoming more Eco friendly so that I can make my own clothes.  My mother seemed unimpressed and skeptical of my proclamations.  (Especially since in other recent blogs she has painted me as the Imelda Marcos of Vermont I really don't own nearly as many shoes as she claims.)

In between her laughter and a garbled story about some childhood trauma of being forced to wear a home knitted ski jacket; which I personally think sounds charming, she wished me luck on my knitting scheme.  Now this is not some hair brained idea I have pulled out of thin air research and thought has gone into this new pursuit.

I have located a group that hosts several knitting jamborees per year with all the yarn hand spun and dyed on site.  Granted the group does look a little older and greyer than the crowd I would normally hang with but I am sure that after doing a few online knitting tutorials I will fit right in.

Who knows perhaps with a little practice and a few knitting jamborees with my new medicare gal pals I too can be skiing down the mountain this time next year in my own hand fangled knit wear ski suit.  It might not be an exact fit or have the right stitch, but at least I will be doing my part to cut down on the carbon footprint of shipping, sweatshops, and planetary destruction that so many of our consumeristic ways produce.

I am sure that after watching the Eco path I intend to tread my mother will be all to eager to help compost our way to a better world.  After six months here she will be sporting a home hair cut, with an all natural dye job at the local squash festival wearing my knit creations and then she will truly know she has arrived.

The Rest of the Story

Paul Harvey had a radio show where he would give his listeners a behind the scenes look into a short story.  Mr. Harvey titled this program "The Rest of the Story:.  Amy's blog of All Work and No Way needs to have the rest of the story told.  While it is true that Amy's Sunshine and I were frantically working to build the closet there was a good reason to be frantic.
Amy has not disclosed the amount or extent of her wardrobe or shoes.  Oh yes, it is huge.  Her Sunshine had to build three rows of shoe racks that each measured 12 feet in length.  That is 36 feet of shoe racks!  When I saw all the shoes on the racks I was like a kid in a candy story because Amy and I wear the same size.  I spent hours trying on all kinds of different shoes.  How fun it was to have so many shoes to wear.

 Now Amy dresses very stylish so of course she has many different outfits.  She even has a market purse.  What is a market purse you ask?  I asked her the same question.  It is a purse that you only use when you go to the farmer's market.  I know the reader is thinking well sure a purse big enough to hold fruits and vegetables, how clever!  No that is not a market purse.  The market purse is only big enought for a small wallet.  Fruits and vegetables go into a bag!  The market purse is not used when going to the grocery store that requires yet another purse.  Oh, so that is why there are so many purses.


As you can see if her shoes and purses are extensive, then you can only imagine the amount of clothes she possesses.  In her defense, she only purchases clothes that are discounted.  However, if one goes to the discount stores everyday, clothes and shoes will add up not to mention purses.  Amy's Sunshine only wanted to create a closet that would hold her extensive wardrobe in a tidy manner so I was only lending a helping hand to this project.  What is a mother to do if it is not to help build a gigantic closet that will hold an exteme amout of ever so cute ensembles.  It may be true that hyper activity is no stranger to me yet I know my lively personality will make living at Heir Head Manor oh so project filled.

All Work and No Way

Last night as my mother and I were talking she related how thrilled she was that in only a few short months we would be sharing each day together.  "We have so many projects to do" she thrilled.  "I just can't wait till I move up there and we can get started."

My voice said "uh huh uh huh" but inwardly I groaned.  You see my mother and my Sunshine are of the same mindset.  There are some days I look at him as he dithers to and fro straightening this doing that saying "come on, come on let's go" that I think dear God I am dating my mother.  The two of them have way to much in common in the work ethic area for comfort. 

They love to wake up early on the weekends and get straight to work on whatever project or task has been set for the day.  I can't tell you how many times after a night of sleep I have trudged downstairs to find them both awake and arguing some point about a home remodeling project when all I want is a steaming mug of coffee.

My mother was here right after my Sunshine and I moved to Heir Head Manor and after driving for ten hours carting boxes, bins, and furniture out of the U-haul and up the stairs to our room I was spent.  Moving had been an ongoing project that had occupied my whole life the entire month before the U-haul even arrived.

I tried to hide my irritation as my mother and my Sunshine buzzed around moving this, unpacking that, measuring, and hammering to get things in just the right spots.  Loud conversations ensued between the two of them on just the right way to build the shelves for the closet and where to hang the bars for the hanging clothes.

Typical of my mother she had a lot of opinions despite little experience in carpentry and after many harried talks and trips up the stairs and down the stairs she and my Sunshine finally agreed on well whatever the heck they were discussing.  You see I tend to tune them out when they have these talks, it's a valuable skill I learned in church.

So last night when my mother was gushing about her excitement for all our future projects; visions of loud conversations, unlimited ideas, and endless hours of we could do this or we should do that danced in my head.  Looks like while she and my Sunshine hash out just where and how to construct those deck railings I'll be hiding in the shed with a flashlight, a box of cookies, and a good book. 

Let them Eat Pops!

One of the many joys of having grandchildren is getting to spoil them on their birthdays.  In my family two of my granddaughters share the same January date for their birthday.  This year I decided to do something special and send them each an order of hand made cake pops for their birthdays.

My daughter was thrilled with the idea of receiving cake pops to celebrate her own daughters birthday.  She just had a few requests all organic products, no store bought ingredients, and a variety of flavors to suit any palate.

Sounds simple enough, right?  Since my daughter had made all the initial requests I decided that I would send my son the exact same kind of cake pop bouquet for his daughter's birthday as well.  Having gathered all the ingredients over the weekend I rushed home one day after work to make the pops.

Amy had complained incessantly about the time consuming quality of making cake pops, but I had previously blown her off, because she tends to complain about everything.  (i.e. her complaints about blogging)  Needless to say before I knew it I was up to my elbows in batter, frosting, and candy melts, mushing and smushing and rolling to get just the right shape before I shoved in the sticks.

With my husband manning the packaging and mummifying each box with tape until they could survive a world war we finished the cake pops in just under four hours.  At this rate we would have to charge five hundred dollars per bouquet of cake pops just to justify all the time and effort, but since these were for my two special granddaughters I didn't mind the work.

After the birthdays were done and the all organic, homemade, plethora of flavor cake pops were consumed I got a call from my son.  He has successfully built his own business and has watched the crafting of my and Amy's business venture with interest.  

"The cake pops were great Mom" he said.  "I just have a few suggestions, the chocolate ones were a little doughy and when you bit them well they tended to slide right of the stick.  The maple ones were good but the candy melts were really glopped on them.  Now I am not criticizing just trying to give constructive comments to help."

"Uh huh" I muttered.  "Well thanks for the input I will fill out a suggestion sheet with your comments right away."  Great I thought once we had gotten off the phone critiques from my own son.  I can only imagine the flood of complaints that would follow the advent of paying customers. 

I think maybe Amy and I should just cater our business to kids.  I like the words of my three year old granddaughter best.  Upon receiving her cake pops she screamed "yeah pop cakes I love them", and to the rest I say let them eat cake, pops that is!

Your Wish Is My Command

I must admit I have been having a little bit of a blog block in these past few days.  In short my life has just been so low key and boring I couldn't dredge up the simplest of things to write about, until today.  After a nice hike through a local natural conservation area with my Sunshine I arrived home, relaxed and realigned with the world and all of nature to see a missed call on the home phone.

Scrolling through the log I saw that the missed call was my mother and immediately called her back.  The phone call started off normal although I did notice an unusually loud din in the background, but I figured she must be out doing errands at a noisy shopping center.  After telling me that one of my relatives who was going through treatment for cancer is now cancer free, she informed me that she was at the lake with her girlfriends.

My mother and her friends at the lake for a husband free weekend always spells trouble, before I knew it my mother was relating how they had all read the blog and had found it extremely humorous.  Boisterous voices chimed in from the background and I began to wonder just what these ladies had been up to all afternoon. 

Suddenly my mother handed the phone off to one of her friends who informed me that they had read through all the posts and thought I had captured the essence of my mother to perfection.  Having lived with her for the past well I decline to state how many years I know the ins and outs of her personality. 

"Your mom says you should do all the posts on the blog since you're so good at it" her friend laughed into the phone.
"She would say that" I blustered "and once I finished she would call and say, that was a nice post I just have a few suggestions about your grammar and well it could be a little funnier" I countered.
"That was hysterical" screeched my mom's friend you even sound like her.

The phone clicked and suddenly the group en mass was on the line.  "Do the impression of her come on" my mom's friend urged.  I froze it's one thing to do the impression of my mom behind her back complete with the right eye fluttering roll that she does when she's really mad.  The kind of mad where the veins bulge out on her neck, her face turns red, and her right eye turns in its socket like a Ferris wheel at the fair. 

It's another thing to do an impression of her when she is on the line.  "Come on Aim I thought you were an actress my mom" chirped.  Tension crackled down the line and only one word can describe how I felt, AWKWARD!  I felt like a five year old at a party trotted out to entertain the crowd.  "I just can't do an impression of you to your face" I stammered "it only works behind your back."

"Great you just keep doing it behind my back" my mom said and with relief gushing through my body we got off the phone so that they could start what I suspect will be a very long journey to Margaritaville.  Now I am no prude, well OK so I kind of am, but I loosen up and have some fun now and then.  However the ruckus my mom and her friends cause is like Golden Girls Gone Wild.

It seems like when she moves to Heir Head Manor in June a few ground rules might have to be laid before this wild girl bunch travels up for one of their husband free melanges.  Like lights out by midnight, one alcoholic beverage per person per day, and most of all when the curtain to my room is closed that means stay out.  Yes mom especially you.

Back In High School

While eating lunch in the faculty lounge, one teacher asked me if I was moving to New England when I retired.  I told that I was.  She paused and politely told me that I must work on my pronounciation of words if I wanted to be accepted.  I was a little surprised by her words of wisdom but since she was born in the New England I knew she had a good understanding of the region.  "How do I change my pronounciation?'  She began to list all the words that must be pronounced differently before I move.  Feeling a little overwhelmed I began to laugh.

Moving seems to be hard enough without worrying about how I speak.  I decided I was too old to worry about being accepted, after all I am not in high school anymore.  When I started to laugh she looked a little surprised so I told her that everyone will know instantly I am not from the region.  I talk to loundly,  I laugh to loudly.  I speak my mind always.  I am not a person who worries about being accepted. 

When I called Amy to talk to her about being accepted, she told me to forget trying.  She has been trying for several months to make friends but to no avail.  I then decided that Amy and I will have to be friends!  There is no other way!  Oh well, Amy and I will be far to busy with our cake pop business to worry about friends.  Well maybe we won't even be able to have a business since everyone will know we are outsiders!  Snowy days, stuck in a house and no friends.  Ugh, high school all over again!

Sweatin with the Oldie

Since moving in to Heir Head Manor I have started a new fitness routine.  OK, I admit more like I got galled into action to actually get up and move when my mother on her many visits here spoke incessantly about her after work routine with her co-workers that involves them huffing and puffing their way through the Insanity workout routines.

"I noticed the gym teacher and another teacher in her thirties both had to stop and get drinks of water" she boasted "but I just kept on going.  As soon as I move to Vermont you and I can start doing Insanity together" she smiled at me as she spoke these last words.

Now I have always been more in the fitness realm of my father.  Every year he vows to get in shape talks about it for um, maybe ten minutes, drops down and does some stretching a few sit ups says he is going to  exercise and then mulls around until the next year when he repeats the same conversation sit ups and all.

With the thought of my mother and middle age looming close on the horizon I have decided to change my ways, and I have kind of sort of.  I am no where close to Insanity ready but at this point I can get through a twenty minute workout, provided it is not to strenuous and I don't have to move around too much.

Admittedly there has been no change to my form, no toning, or shifting, or wobble free muscles in sight, but it has only been two days so I figure I have to give it time.  If all else fails there is always my fathers method I can drop to the floor and give them twenty once a year.  It seems to have worked all right for him as he is still rocking his slender shape.

Of course he lives on ice cream can consume an entire bag of chips in an afternoon and thinks that cutting down to only one packet of blue cheese dressing on his huge lunch salad from the local grocery store is dieting.  Obviously he is blessed with an extremely high metabolism, so for now I guess I'll go the way of my mom and keep on huffing and puffing my way until I become Insanity ready. 

I can just hear her now as I stop for that drink of water.  "I do Insanity with my daughter everyday of course she has to take little breaks and drinks of water."  Then she'll smile that knowing smile.  What better motivation to keep on sweatin before I'm getting the pants beat off me by the oldie.

Drills and Frills

This morning we were blasted out of bed by the sound of extreme drilling. That's right extreme drilling at 6:30 in the morning right outside our very own door. Living on a lake obviously has it's many, many, upsides and a few downsides one being the sport of ice fishing which unfortunately is taking place right outside our door.

Peeping out the window I groaned as I noted hole after hole that had been drilled through the ice. No walking across the lake now unless you want a wet pant leg when your foot crashes through the thinly scabbed over ice.

Well if worse comes to worse and our cake pop business doesn't make it I have a business idea for my dad that involves him wearing camouflage Carharts and tooling across the ice on an ATV towing a barbecue grill loaded with meats that he sells to hungry ice fishermen. Perhaps his business could also include selling a cake pop or two.

Maybe all the ice and the fishermen are the keys to cake pop success and I should load up a sleigh with cake pops and pull it around on the ice selling our cakey confections. I can just imagine those rugged fishermen chomping on my colorfully swirled treats.

Who knows maybe it will become all the rage and catch on with ice fishermen everywhere. For now I'll just settle for a good nights sleep and wake up to my alarm which is far less annoying than a drill.

New Beginnings

This week I turned in all my paper work to retire in June!!  I am so excited.  It is so liberating to be able to start another career yet it is also very scary.  I have spent 30 years in education; teaching Marines to second grade students.  When your husband is in the Army, you have to move all over the country and internationally and that means you have many different kinds of educational jobs.  I have had many educational jobs.  I have a been a school principal for the last 14 years.  The job has been rewarding and challenging but now I am ready to embark on a new carreer with my daughter. 

Since our family has not been afraid to move our children all left home at 18 to go to college anywhere in the U.S.  We have been so proud of them but we have also been apart from them since high school graduation.  I am excited to be able to live very close to Amy, very close.  I know we will have a great time making our new business a big hit!!  Even though Amy says she not all that excited I know the momemteum will catch her spirit.  If it is not obvious to the reader that I have the energy in the family it will be obvious in time.  Cake pops here we come!

Lots of Opinions but Little Work

Tonight was supposed to be the first night that my mother added a post.  Having waited until ten pm I finally called her to see what had happened to the great gusto to blog she had harped about yesterday.  After two rings of the phone she answered; the first words out her mouth being "well I don't think I can blog tonight" as the television blared in the background.

Now I know that her and my father's work days are long and challenging and they both arrive home exhausted, but it seems to me that those who call everybody under the sun with news of their great blog and make huge announcements about their intentions to start a million dollar blog should put their money where their mouth is.

Unfortunately I know the score over there in parental figure land.  My mother an adamant clean freak has finished work, scoured the house, and now lays in bed exhausted watching reruns of the Golden Girls.  While my father who is lactose intolerant except when eating huge bowls of ice cream with peanuts and chocolate sauce is indulging in his dinner the previous mentioned huge bowl of ice cream.
;
You know that old saying the family that blogs together stays together.  Since we are the family that blogs together, makes cake pops together, and soon will be growing vegetables together we should be joined at the hip.  So for now I guess my parents can enjoy their pre-retirement bliss cleaning, eating ice cream, and watching really loud TVs, because once we all live here in Heir Head Manor it's all about blogging, cake popping, and gardening.  I am sure they can hardly wait.   

Million Dollar Fantasies

True to form I already hate blogging.  As usual my mother has taken the whole idea of starting a blog and turned it into million dollar fantasies and an entirely irritating experience.  Everyone has an opinion my mother, my sister, my brother everyone has chimed in their very annoying two cents. 

The blogging must commence everyday, I should write articles, and comment on other peoples blogs.  I must become a highly visible blogger so that this site can take off and earn one million dollars a year.  To that I say good luck and let me know how it all turns out.

Not to sound like a brat, but the constant input that comes with living in a family home can become overwhelming.  I've gained ten pounds just thinking about making the cake pops, blogging everyday, oh yeah and the vegetable garden we are starting this spring.  Yahoo I can't wait to get the input on just exactly where to plant the carrots.

 My mother has now officially filed her retirement papers and will be here in six months or less.  Oh happy days.  Since the culture here is somewhat closed to outsiders she has proclaimed that we can become best friends.  I can hardly contain my joy. 

I know that I am blessed to have the family I have and be surrounded by smart, loving, and caring people.  It just seemed so much easier to be in the midst of all this family togetherness when I lived three thousand miles away.  Oh well life is definitely a journey and this one is proving to be an interesting and bumpy ride. 

Stress and Mess

    Though it has been a rocky last few months settling into living in a communal setting having my mother hover over my shoulder at different times noting things from the way I do laundry, the cleanliness of my refrigerator, to the tightness of my pants things are starting to improve.  I started a part time job with an after school program working with local students.  The students have warmed right up to me even if the stiff culture of this New England area has stopped the parents from having a similar response.
    Now that everything is on a smoother path the endless stream of questions about our business has begun.  Oh did I forget to mention that charming nugget of information at the beginning of this blog.  Well here it is, my mom and I are starting a business together.  That's right, not only will we live together, blog together, but now we will work together to build a business.  Sounds like a dream come true, right?  Don't get me wrong I appreciate all the experiences I am having right now and the relationship this is helping to forge with my mom.  It's just that starting a business with anyone is rough so when it's you and your mother hurtling along on the path to entrepreneurial success well things can get a little sticky metaphorically and literally.
    The business we are starting is none other than the great art of making cake pops.  You know those lovely little balls of cakey goo that have been mashed and rolled and shoved on a stick.  Yum!  Sounds easy right.  Let me assure it is not.  Trying to scrounge up clients to let you sell these little nuggets of bliss on a stick in  their store is harder than it sounds.  So is the decorating that thousands of pictures flooded on the Internet make look so easy and on top of it all is my mother who though not yet retired from her current job wants to get the business in full swing and has many, many, many, helpful suggestions.
    This Christmas we debuted a new flavor of our cake pops our families traditional Christmas caramel cookies.  I can't tell you what's in the cookies my family has held on to the recipe tighter than a mafia secret, but they are gooey and chewy and delicious.  After much debate about any adjustments that were needed to the recipe so they would be able to adhere to the stick we dove right in.  As we worked I made various suggestions that we let the batter cool before we shaped and speared them, but in her absolute assurance my mom brushed my chatter aside.  Before I knew it we had rows of misshapen bobble headed caramels slowly sliding down their sticks while my father reluctant to involve himself in the may lay of the cake pop making merely muttered that they looked great.
    Let's just hope that deformed cake pops become all the rage, maybe we can call them frankenpops and start a new trend.  No matter with a little work and a few tweaks I am sure we will get it right.  Let's just hope we still have our sanity at the end of this journey and that one of us isn't living in a tent at the end of the driveway with my sister having to come up and mediate while my father vacantly strolls around saying that's great and looks delicious I'll try it later.  Never a dull moment here at Heir Head Manor.
    Curious about our cake pops check them out at http://www.vermontpops.com/.  We promise to make yours an experience you will never forget!
   

New Year Revolution

    Part of trying something new is the inevitable feeling of insecurity it can bring.  Just last night I dreamt that my parents told me that living with them was too easy and I needed to move out, but that's just the thing it isn't easy.  Not because we fight all the time or because I secretly despise them and blame them for my every failing, but because of my own attitude towards multi generational living.
    Being an American is all about being bigger and better than the previous generation.  We move out, move on, and move up.  We fly the coop putting as much distance between us and them as possible; only coming back to flaunt our success and buy them a big expensive gift that says "hey look at me I made it".  Moving back in and planning a life that involves living with my parents just makes me feel like legions of people are shouting "loser". 
    It's this attitude that I am going to try to defeat in the new year.  I don't need to have a big fancy house of my own, or live miles away from my parents performing some high rolling job to prove my success.  In the end my life will only be measured by the love I have given and received and though quarters can be tight and chaos can reign at Heir Head Manor there is no shortage of love.
     So thanks Mom and Dad for building a house that can be home to us all and having hearts big enough to make anytime without your presence seem empty.  Hey even my sunshine gets depressed when they leave.  Now that says a lot for his future in laws.