What’s your favorite part of the holiday season?Fudge?Greeting cards?Scotch tape?Personally, I’m a sucker for Christmas lights.Whether the light strings are dangling from the eaves, draped across the shrubs, and/or twisted around the trees – the colors, variety and wattage are just amazing.A few little twinkly lights thrown in are a nice touch, too.
My love of Christmas lights began way, way back when I was a kid.The whole famn damily would pile into the old Dodge station wagon for a drive around town to look at the lights.The snow would diffuse the colors and lights across the lawn while the icicles added big bright dramatic highlights.Combined with treacherously slick roads and no seat belt laws, those were rides to remember!
Dad was a sucker for Christmas lights, too, even though they almost killed him…
Again way, way back, on one fine January clearance sale day, Dad found the best price EVER on Christmas lights.He bought every single box and stashed them away in anticipation of the best EVER neighborhood light display.Months later, he unwrapped all those lights only to discover they were not the string-to-string variety.After considering the extension cord complications, Dad decided to splice all the lights together into one big long giant string.He worked along methodically, carefully splicing one string to another, holding the bare wire ends in his mouth as he went.It was at one such critical molar-clenching moment that my youngest brother decided to plug in the lights.
Snap!Crackle!Pop!Not in the good cereal kind of way, either.Dad, knocked off his feet, flew across the living room and landed right next to the outlet.Somehow, he was able to unplug the lights and himself.“Dad,” said the electrically guilty brother in a voice of stunned awe, “can you do that again?”
So nine extension cords and two root canals later, it was really was the best EVER neighborhood light display.
During this Christmas season, enjoy all of your favorites be it fudge, greeting cards, scotch tape or lights.Drive carefully and plug in even more carefully!
I have more than one extroverted friend who sees my lifestyle as their charity project. As if getting the introvert out of the house is somehow akin to saving the whales. They never tire of trying to assimilate me into their extended group of friends, but I am holding fast.
When an extroverted friend asks "what are you doing tomorrow?" I come by a deeper understanding of the 'fight or flight' response. While I was once a little slow on the uptake, I've become fairly adept at blurting plausible sounding activities I'll be very busy doing. It doesn't matter though - they'll then utter a sentence I can't begin to grasp the formation of... "oh, because my sister's neighbor is having a candle party, you should come". That my extroverted friend would think I'd be interested tells me she has never listened to a word I've said.
I have grown up enough to decline these invitations, but it never ends there. It's nearly always followed up with "come on, it'll be fun, there'll be prizes" (oh, goody, prizes mean games!) or worse yet, "it'll do you good to get out". Oh, and there It is. The you're broken, you need to be fixed angle. Honestly, I don't need any overpriced sugar cookie candles, and I surely don't feel compelled to join the clutch in their 'adult conversation' -- which I've discovered means little more than talking in psuedonegative tones about the family they supposedly couldn't wait to get away from.
I have let my guard down and shown up as the 'bring a friend' a time or two. I'm not sure if it was the number of times I heard "ooh, smell this one", or just my general disdain for being there in the first place, but I came way too close to throttling the cheery little 'independent consultant' for asking me to self-address a postcard and sign up to sell the same crap she's hocking as her 'sub-independent consultant'. It might have made the party a little uncomfortable for a moment, but the quiet girl across the room nodded in my direction, which I took as a subtle showing of solidarity.
I've vowed to never go to another, so when I politely decline your invitation, please don't make me do it twice. There must be more pressing social causes out there, so notice that I am perfectly happy and content and don't need to be fixed.
The word soft …is a warm and fuzzy feeling, it exalts visions of a large fluffy down bed that you get lost in, the smoothness of a baby’s bottom, a new kitten, puppy or bunny and yes even grandma or auntie’s full bosom pressed against your face in one of her wonderful warm hugs.
But there are times when you don’t want to be soft….in a dare, crying in front of your friends and when you husband tells you your body is getting soft.Yup…it happened a few weeks ago, we were discussing our goals in weight loss which has not been too effective, we are not obese just need to lose 15 lbs or so and our age is now a factor with hormones and lower metabolism and of course the not so good habits we have developed over the years contribute; we are to say the least losing the battle of the bulge. Notice I say WE, it is not I nor ME it is WE, but it seems Me get discussed more than WE.Ok, so maybe I am being soft but unbeknownst to him the arrow pierced none the less and maybe it was an unknown motivator in disguise.
Soft…yup it has its negative side and YUP I fess up, I am soft as mush inside, but hard as armor on the outside careful not to let the mush seep though.You see this weekend the armor had to work overtime!Let’s go back a year ago…it was Saturday …a very special day… It started out as a beautiful sunny crisp fall day, a day filled with excitement, love and family. Magic was in the air as the sun set over the water we said our vows and sealed them with a kiss, and the celebration began with family and friends, truly a magical day!
A year later…this year…this past Sunday…a very special day... It was a beautiful sunny crisp fall day that began with excitement and love….and morning turned into afternoon… and afternoon turned into an ordinary day…a very ordinary day. Washing clothes for the work week, working on the computer, and to get out of the house to enjoy the beautiful day…a trip to the dog park.
YUP…a very ordinary day….should have left him there…he’s in the Dog House!
So my “baby” girl graduated from high school two weeks ago.Cue the nostalgic mood music.It was just yesterday that she let me do her hair, pick out her clothes, and buckle her into a car seat.Stop the music.Today she does her own hair, picks out her clothes, and (hopefully) buckles up before peeling out.How did this happen overnight?After all, I just graduated…25 years ago.
High school graduation is an important milestone, whether it feels like that or not.It means you are educated, whether it feels like that or not.It means you met standards, whether it feels like it or not.It means you worked hard, whether it feels like that or not.It means you are ready for adulthood, whether it feels like that or not.
Graduation prompts an interesting behavior I call grudge evaporation.Grudge evaporation happens when all of your classmates are your friends because you’ll probably never see some of them again.Gone as if by magic are those petty leftover grudges from grades gone by.She didn’t share? Oh well.He didn’t call?Too bad.He spit in your hair in the 6th grade?So what.She told her other best friend who told her cousin who told her other best friend who told her mom who told your mom?Who cares.Bygones are bygones.Say goodbye and move on.
High school can be an all-consuming never-ending cycle of friends, homework, and activities.Graduation puts a screeching halt to the old familiar routines and flings wide open the door to the future.Yes, Virginia, there is life after high school.A lot of it.For me, at least 25 years’ worth so far.Colleges, careers, vacations, lazy days, new houses, new friends, new spouses, kids, pets, cars – the list of life goes on and on.And the best part of post-grad life?Who you have been is not necessarily who you become.
So to my own graduate and by extension to recent graduates everywhere, enjoy becoming you.To us older and wiser graduates, let’s just keep on becoming ourselves – we’re not done yet!
I’m notoriously cheap.Pinching pennies and stretching dollars are my modus operandi.Once in a while I go a little crazy, though.Every now and then I come across a BOGO sale.Buy One Get One – the only way to spend money.I love BOGO deals because free is a very good price.Buy one frozen pizza, get one free.Buy one flower pot, get one free.Buy one college education, get one free.
Okay, okay, college isn’t really like that – but it can be.My husband is one of those perpetual college students.We met in college when he went for the first time.The second time he went to college we had two little girls and two cats.The third time he went to college we had not-so-little girls and four cats.The fourth time he went to college we had gray hair, a herd of cats and a puppy.I shudder to think of the aging or wildlife that more college might bring.Anyway, when it’s all added up he’s been in college for 12 years, half of our 24-year marriage.We have paid a lot of money for his education and mine has been free.BOGO.
Over the course (and courses!) of all those college years, I’ve acquired a heap of knowledge through a process I call Wife Typist Osmosis or WTO.Actually it is a BOGO side-effect and this is how it happens: when the wife types assignments or papers, the wife asks questions.In response and maybe in defense, the husband shares his textbooks and lecture notes.Now the wife knows what the husband knows.It’s as simple as that.So, some of this wife’s most favorite BOGO classes have been world history, children’s literature, classroom management, and educational philosophy.The assorted “ologies” (geology, sociology, and biology) were pretty good, too.Math and more math were not favorites.Just think about it – all of this education and I’ve never had to take a quiz, pass a test, or sweat a final.BOGO WTO.
Now that the kids are in college, I have the chance to expand my educational horizons by the BOGO.2 and BOGO.3 versions.Those editions don’t come with WTO attached because the girls know how to type.However, the recently developed and stringently tested MEO, Mama Editor Osmosis, module is included!
There is a downside to BOGO WTO and BOGO MEO learning, though.The free education is undocumented.No advanced degrees decorated with curlicue flourishes.No fashionably medieval academic hood.But oddly enough, that’s okay because undocumented certainly doesn’t mean unrecognized.My typing and editing efforts are frequently rewarded with non-BOGO roomy tote bags, sparkly earrings, or sweet chocolate.Roomy, sparkly, and sweet – just like the wife/mama/typist/editor herself!
Considering that it’s Thanksgiving, I’ve decided it’s time to count my blessings.Financially, it's tight all over so should I count my spare change instead?Nope.There’s not enough of it to bother with.But blessings…. There are plenty of those.
Here are my Top 10 Blessings so far today…
Blessing #1:baby carrots.They are already peeled.Being left-handed with a right-handed peeler is a cursing, so I love the safety of baby carrots.
Blessing #2:band-aids.See above.
Blessing #3:the grocery store.Everything I want in one convenient location, neatly displayed with clear plastic wrapping or pull-top lids.Mrs. Pilgrim would be jealous.
Blessing #4:a grocery list.I don’t leave home without it or I’ll have to go back home to get it.
Blessing #7:coupons.The savings give me some spare change to count.
Blessing #8:nice paper plates.Really, there are some – sturdy, gravy-proof, and recyclable.Mrs. Pilgrim would be doubly jealous.
Blessing #9:a car.I can get over the river and through the wood to Grandma’s house before the green bean casserole gets cold.
Blessing #10:football.I’m not really a fan, but it keeps the guys out of the kitchen.
So, may I leave you some holiday advice?Count your blessings, beware of peelers, shop strategically, and enjoy your feast.Happy Thanksgiving!
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a commercial break.No, not the kind where you book it to the fridge for a cold diet soda before your favorite show is back on.I’m talking about a political commercial break.This election season has prompted some of the most negative commercials and dirty dog politics I’ve ever seen on the small screen. Every vote, every decision, every trip, and every purchase has been called into question.Every thing from frozen peas to office furniture has been flung before the voters in the hope of victory on election night.Candidates and committees have been flinging it as us for months now and it’s almost over.Tomorrow I can stop ducking.
I never thought I’d say it, but all of these commercials have made me realize how much I’ve missed all the other awful commercials I used to see.Like the pipe people who advertise bladder control medicine.Or the do-it-yourself DNA kit “conveniently located right next to the pregnancy tests.”Or the low-budget used car salesman superhero who can get you “the car of your dreams regardless of your past credit history.”Or toilet cleaning tools called “wands.”Political advertising has made even these clunkers look like the best thing on T.V., ranking right up there with foreclosure infomercials.
It’s important to be an informed voter, but after all of these political commercials… I’m a stressed and irritated voter.I’m a cranky and cantankerous voter.I’m a voter who just can’t wait until the voting is over.I’m a voter who’s ready for a commercial break.
I love Halloween, really I do.It’s the time of year when piles of crispy, crunchy leaves are just asking to be jumped in, and for a couple of weeks, no one yells at me for shooing away the neighbors black cat.Plus, there is CANDY.Candy is everywhere.I can sneak pieces all day long and no one is the wiser.Sometimes I even stash a few in my super secret hiding spot, but my mom usually finds those (I guess it’s not so super secret anymore).But this part.THIS is ridiculous.Completely unacceptable.
I told my mom that I don’t like dressing up.When she brought home that stupid chicken costume and showed it to me, I cringed and started my ‘I don’t wanna!’ whining routine.Then, when she wanted me to try it on, I hid under the bed.
“Oh, quit complaining, you’ll look adorable!” she said.
“I promise no one will make fun of you.” she said.
I knew then and I know now that both of those statements are completely false. Time and time again, she says the same thing and makes me the same promises, and it always turns out badly.
It will be just like last year, and the year before that.Mom throws a Halloween party, and the house is filled with people laughing and giggling at me, giving me pitying looks and stuffing me back into my costume whenever I manage to wriggle out of part of it.The worst part is, every time I pick up something tasty, someone takes it away, saying “I don’t think your mom wants you to have all that sugar.” Every time!It’s torture.It’s not just regular torture, either.It’s humiliating torture.
It’s not gonna happen this year.No way, no how.I’m busting out of this joint and having one night of freedom to celebrate Halloween my way.You see, I have a plan.
As the party approaches, everything falls into place perfectly.I take a bath and my mom puts the loathsome chicken costume on me with much less difficulty than usual.That should have been her first clue that something was up.
I sit calmly on the couch while she finishes with the decorations and prepares the refreshments.ME, calm before a party? No begging to sample the food, no following her around trying to get her attention? That should set the warning bells off.
To top it off, as the guests arrive, I greet them happily, politely and affectionately.Hey, I like my mom’s friends, but being happy and polite while in a chicken costume?Really?
It’s time for me to make my move.The party is in full swing, and I dart out the front door when it is opened for a group of trick or treaters.I hear people yelling at me to come back, but within a minute, I am blocks away, joyfully joining the crowds of costumed kids. Phase Two: The Adventure Begins
I slip in with different groups as they knock on doors and ring doorbells.We run from house to house, and while others drop their treats into their sacks or buckets, every goodie I get, I eat immediately.It’s all more wonderful than I ever imagined.
My favorite houses are the ones that have left a bowl full of treats on their front porch, trusting kids to respect the honor system.I’m sorry, but there is no respect in my game plan for the evening.This is my one, and I fear my only, Halloween to do exactly what I want.I gorge myself on these bowls of candy then and there, as there is no chance I can take any home with me.I eat until the parents of the younger trick or treaters scold me and I run away.
With my belly is full of sweet gooey goodness, I feel like I have successfully accomplished the ‘treat’ part of the evening.It’s time to bring on the tricks.
Listen, I’m not usually bad.In fact, I’m a good boy most of the time.I just want to have the complete Halloween experience.As I’m wandering away from a bowl of candy I just cleaned out, I come across a group of teenagers who seem to be as into the whole ‘trick’ thing as much as I am, and the mischief begins.
I help them unroll toilet paper to decorate a front yard, I pull down a few decorations, and we hide in bushes then jump out to scare little kids.I do think I crossed the line when I peed on a neighbor’s doormat, though.The teenagers seemed to love it but the owner of the house was none too pleased.
As the streets begin to clear, I turn towards home.I have heard my mom and her friends calling to me for the past couple of hours, and I’m starting to feel guilty for running away.Besides, I’m getting tired, my tummy doesn’t feel so good, and I have one more trick to play.
When I get to my house, the front door flies open and I am grabbed up in a big hug.I though my mom would be angry, but she just keeps hugging me, kissing me, and telling me how worried she was.I must look frightful, as I am covered with smears of candy and my costume is dirty and torn from the bushes.I’m beginning to feel a little bad about what’s to come, but I’ve already passed the point of no return.
The party is still in full swing, as planned.I walk to the center of the living room with people fawning over me with every step.I stand there for a moment and then start heaving.That’s right.I puke right smack in the middle of the party.I usually feel terrible when I throw up on the rug, but not this time.It’s my moms turn to be embarrassed on Halloween, and nothing is more humbling than being on your hands and knees in the middle of your own party dealing with that disgusting mess.
I really hope my mom got the message, and next Halloween will be different.Now, with my mission is accomplished, I look up at my mom and her friends, wag my tail, grab my favorite squeaky toy and trot off to lay on my bed and have a good chew.
We were recently given a cat. I have sworn forever that I would never have a cat. It's been over a month now and I can say without reservation that he's cute, but he's no dog.
He doesn't fetch and his cat food smells bad. He doesn't "sit" or "shake" and he doesn't come when he's called or respond when I whistle. He sits on my head at night in bed... what's that about? You can't teach him tricks... as a matter of fact, he's a very slow learner. My wife tells him he's cute and he purrs. I tell him to do anything and he seems to not hear my voice. Doesn't even turn his head.
He doesn't like to go for a ride and when I put him on a leash to go for a run, he looked at me like I must be kidding!
It's embarassing to go out in public with a cat. He doesn't get excited when I say "Wanna go for a ride?" He doesn't know what a park is. He doesn't know how to play with other cats much less with kids. He's not interested in frisbees or tennis balls.
He doesn't meet me at the door at the end of the day panting and excited to see me.
I loved my dog. I miss having a dog. I need a dog.
After two weeks of couch-potato Olympic coverage, I can definitely say I’m not moving swifter, higher or stronger. But I am in awe of the athletes who can! It’s amazing what the human body can be trained and prepared to do.
I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m not much of an athlete and have never been good at sports. Kickball was the bane of my elementary existence. Dressing down was the misery of my high school life. I’ve tried Jazzercise and believe you me, jumping around in front of a mirror while wearing a leotard is not a jazzy thing. Treadmills are ok, but I don’t like that distinct hamster-on-a-wheel feeling and I have a terrible time sticking the dismount. Oh sure, the dog and I go for walks, but they are more of the sniff-and-stroll variety. So in the meantime, I’m trying to crochet my way to fitness. Aerobically, it leaves something to be desired, but the doilies are great!
Maybe I can petition the International Olympic Committee to add crochet as a sanctioned event. Just imagine the commentary: “Simple, elegant, neat and tidy. That’s the best triple crochet stitch I’ve seen in the competition so far. If she manages to stick the tie-off, she’ll be in contention for a medal…”
So to athletes, non-athletes, and crocheters everywhere, best of luck in your efforts to be citius, altius, and fortius!
Are you a shopper? I'm not. I hate shopping -- especially for Christmas gifts and groceries because no one likes what I buy. I have to grit my teeth every time the mall is mentioned. However, there is just one enjoyable annual shopping trip that's worth every penny -- school supplies!
This weekend I spent a lovely hour browsing the school supplies at a local store. My kids are big now (college and almost-college), so no more watercolors or blunt-end scissors. It's amazing how fast kids grow up, isn't it? Anyway... as I ambled up and down the aisles, I found myself bedazzled by notebooks, composition books, planners, portfolios, binders, journals, crayons, markers, pens, pencils, erasers, rulers... Let me not forget to mention the book bags, back packs, and lunch boxes. I almost fainted from the overwhelming variety.
What was your most favorite new school supply? Clean big pink erasers? Pens before the caps and ends are all chewed? It's so hard to choose just one, but my all-around grand-champion favorite new school supply is the college-ruled composition book.
In the 5th grade, my list of school supplies included a college-rule comp book. It languished in the bottom of my desk, buried under the usual elementary school detritus. One day the teacher asked us to pull them out for a "journaling activity." What the heck was that? The teacher explained this was like a diary, but instead of being super deluxe private with a heavy-duty heart-shaped lock, it would be turned in. The teacher would read our entries and write back to us. Then we could continue the conversation by writing back or start over with a new entry. Ancient I.M.-ing. Prehistoric blogging.
That activity unlocked the writer in me faster than my brother could pick a heart-shaped lock with a bent paper clip. Since then, I've filled heaven-knows how many composition books. I buy as many as I can find every fall and gleefully use 'em all up. And this year, in order to feel less old, I'm going to buy watercolors and blunt-end scissors!
Columbia County Fair was a great success! Check out the videos and pictures, add your comments and tell us about your experiences at the fair and what was YOUR favorite, the animals, the rodeo, 4H or the food. What would you like to see at next years fair.
Twenty two individuals and dance teams performed at the 2008 Columbia County Fair today. Video has been posted and photos are coming soon. The audience was very attentive and gracious for all the dances.
Saturday was a terriffic day at the fair. A huge crowd, all kinds of demonstrations by CEPA (tasers, fires and attack dogs!), more 4H activities and horses. And it was another beautiful day of sunshine! The evening brought the NPRA rodeo and Dancin' in the Dirt with the Concrete Cowboys. What a day. We posted more videos and photos including the Mutton Busting (sheep riding for 4 to 8 year olds), the Bucaneer Babay Gala, the Buccaneer Pre-School Party and Fair Talent Show Finals for all three levels. If you like kids and animals, the videos are for you.
Today is the last day. The weather is gonna be perfect again, the ATV/MX rodeo begins at 11:00 and the carniaval rides open at noon. See you there, Matey.
I am forming a support group for parents that have children with special needs that live in Columbia County. There are so many of you out there that feel alone in your challenges. Many have difficulty finding a babysitter just to go out for dinner with their spouse.
My goal is for all interested to contact me. We could meet once a month (or more if you all wanted) at my office. Each month I would present material on certain disabilities, how to advocate for your child with the school district, and connecting you all together with support groups and folks you may not be aware of. You're not alone.
We will offer support, friendship, education, compassion and understanding. Please join us.
CRhighway's Motorcycle Group is for people who love the thrill of the road on 2 wheels. (Or 3) Whether you ride a road bike, an off-road bike or a chopper, post photos or even video, blog about your adventures and connect with other Group members.
Invite your friends. Post notices of rides, shows, meetings, etc. Spread the word.
This week I had the chance to attend a reading by one of my favorite authors.Of course it was great and so was the Q & A afterwards.But I had a question and didn’t ask it – I was overcome by celebrity cowardice.My question is, I think, something any writer of fiction has grappled with and must, at some point, find an answer.So here’s the burning question – how are characters’ names chosen?
Names are fascinating and so is the process of choosing a name.Volumes of baby names have been published and every year the media shares the Top Ten most popular boy and girl names.Where I work, I run across new names on a daily basis.Some are great, some are not so great, and some…well…I just hope those poor kids will change them when they grow up.I’ve met babies named after seasons, colors, movie stars, foods, constellations, plants, cars, historical figures, and geographical locations.I’ve met babies whose names are in the II, III, and even IV recycling.After more than 20 years of meeting babies, I have come to learn that names don’t reflect their ‘owners’ so much as they reflect the parents.What were some of those parents thinking at that oh-so-crucial naming moment?It’s practically cruel and unusual punishment to tag a sweet innocent baby with an awful moniker in the hopes of being unique or distinctive.
That’s what I worry about when I name my characters.I want them to be memorable, but not because of a ridiculous name.I’ve had a female villain in mind for a while now and I just can’t find the right name for her.I must have been subconsciously stewing about it the other night because I dreamed about her and she was named Saffron.No kidding.So where exactly did that name come from?Too much Food Network before bed?Too many yellow paint swatches taped to the kitchen wall?It’s truly a name dilemma – but I just can’t have my evil villain sounding like a Spice Aisle Girl.
“What’s for dinner?” If only I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that. Between the picky-eater kids and the suspicious-eater husband, I’d be rich! Now don’t get me wrong, I like cooking dinner. It’s just the decision-making before I get behind the stove that drives me crazy.
My mom took dinnertime seriously. Experts have long said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Well, those experts didn’t consult my mom who believed dinner was the overlord of all meals. Mom planned menus, kept track of recipes, and rotated leftovers. Almost every night our family gathered around the table for something hot and homemade. We never asked what was for dinner. Mom fixed it and we ate it. Pot roast, spaghetti, sweet ‘n sour meatballs and tacos were her signature dishes. Mom really was an outstandingly good cook.
I don’t know that I could claim to be an outstanding cook or even a good cook, but I can say that I’m a bored cook. Same pans, same process, night after night can be a real drag. How can such dinner drudgery be livened up? I like to use a dinner theme. There’s nothing like a theme to change mundane dinner into something special.So it could be Ethnic Dinner night, or Breakfast Dinner night, or Fend for Yourself Dinner night, or even Drive-Thru Dinner night.Dinner themes are limited only by my imagination and my paycheck. When my family asks the dreaded dinner question, I respond with my theme du jour. Here are my two all-time very most favorites…
Adventure Dinner! This is the most feared theme in my arsenal.Oh yeah. When it’s Adventure Dinner, every food is a new food – or at least new recipes. If your family’s like mine they will be afraid. Very afraid.This dinner can be time consuming to prepare what with intensive recipe researching and more-specific-than-usual grocery shopping. Crock-pot Adventure Dinners usually turn out pretty good.Curried Adventure Dinners, not so much.Please let me assure you that Adventure Dinner isn’t too bizarre or far-fetched, but it is always an adventure.
Monochromatic Dinner!Just picture this – poached chicken, mashed potatoes, and canned pears.Or how about this – fish sticks, mac ‘n cheese, and canned peaches.Yep, Monochromatic Dinner means all of the food is the same (or very nearly the same) color.The first time this dinner happened it was just dumb culinary luck.But now, it has evolved into a genuine theme.To do it justice, this dinner requires some serious planning and a fairly sophisticated color wheel.Using plates the same color as the food adds to the ambience and introduces an unexpected camouflage factor.
Hey, hold on there just a second…Camouflage?Another whole new dinner theme!
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String Me Along
What’s your favorite part of the holiday season? Fudge? Greeting cards? Scotch tape? Personally, I’m a sucker for Christmas lights. Whether the light strings are dangling from the eaves, draped across the shrubs, and/or twisted around the trees – the colors, variety and wattage are just amazing. A few little twinkly lights thrown in are a nice touch, too.
My love of Christmas lights began way, way back when I was a kid. The whole famn damily would pile into the old Dodge station wagon for a drive around town to look at the lights. The snow would diffuse the colors and lights across the lawn while the icicles added big bright dramatic highlights. Combined with treacherously slick roads and no seat belt laws, those were rides to remember!
Dad was a sucker for Christmas lights, too, even though they almost killed him…
Again way, way back, on one fine January clearance sale day, Dad found the best price EVER on Christmas lights. He bought every single box and stashed them away in anticipation of the best EVER neighborhood light display. Months later, he unwrapped all those lights only to discover they were not the string-to-string variety. After considering the extension cord complications, Dad decided to splice all the lights together into one big long giant string. He worked along methodically, carefully splicing one string to another, holding the bare wire ends in his mouth as he went. It was at one such critical molar-clenching moment that my youngest brother decided to plug in the lights.
Snap! Crackle! Pop! Not in the good cereal kind of way, either. Dad, knocked off his feet, flew across the living room and landed right next to the outlet. Somehow, he was able to unplug the lights and himself. “Dad,” said the electrically guilty brother in a voice of stunned awe, “can you do that again?”
So nine extension cords and two root canals later, it was really was the best EVER neighborhood light display.
During this Christmas season, enjoy all of your favorites be it fudge, greeting cards, scotch tape or lights. Drive carefully and plug in even more carefully!
Quit trying to fix me, I'm not
When an extroverted friend asks "what are you doing tomorrow?" I come by a deeper understanding of the 'fight or flight' response. While I was once a little slow on the uptake, I've become fairly adept at blurting plausible sounding activities I'll be very busy doing. It doesn't matter though - they'll then utter a sentence I can't begin to grasp the formation of... "oh, because my sister's neighbor is having a candle party, you should come". That my extroverted friend would think I'd be interested tells me she has never listened to a word I've said.
I have grown up enough to decline these invitations, but it never ends there. It's nearly always followed up with "come on, it'll be fun, there'll be prizes" (oh, goody, prizes mean games!) or worse yet, "it'll do you good to get out". Oh, and there It is. The you're broken, you need to be fixed angle. Honestly, I don't need any overpriced sugar cookie candles, and I surely don't feel compelled to join the clutch in their 'adult conversation' -- which I've discovered means little more than talking in psuedonegative tones about the family they supposedly couldn't wait to get away from.
I have let my guard down and shown up as the 'bring a friend' a time or two. I'm not sure if it was the number of times I heard "ooh, smell this one", or just my general disdain for being there in the first place, but I came way too close to throttling the cheery little 'independent consultant' for asking me to self-address a postcard and sign up to sell the same crap she's hocking as her 'sub-independent consultant'. It might have made the party a little uncomfortable for a moment, but the quiet girl across the room nodded in my direction, which I took as a subtle showing of solidarity.
I've vowed to never go to another, so when I politely decline your invitation, please don't make me do it twice. There must be more pressing social causes out there, so notice that I am perfectly happy and content and don't need to be fixed.
I'm soft...He's in the Dog hou
The word soft …is a warm and fuzzy feeling, it exalts visions of a large fluffy down bed that you get lost in, the smoothness of a baby’s bottom, a new kitten, puppy or bunny and yes even grandma or auntie’s full bosom pressed against your face in one of her wonderful warm hugs.
But there are times when you don’t want to be soft….in a dare, crying in front of your friends and when you husband tells you your body is getting soft. Yup…it happened a few weeks ago, we were discussing our goals in weight loss which has not been too effective, we are not obese just need to lose 15 lbs or so and our age is now a factor with hormones and lower metabolism and of course the not so good habits we have developed over the years contribute; we are to say the least losing the battle of the bulge. Notice I say WE, it is not I nor ME it is WE, but it seems Me get discussed more than WE. Ok, so maybe I am being soft but unbeknownst to him the arrow pierced none the less and maybe it was an unknown motivator in disguise.
Soft…yup it has its negative side and YUP I fess up, I am soft as mush inside, but hard as armor on the outside careful not to let the mush seep though. You see this weekend the armor had to work overtime! Let’s go back a year ago…it was Saturday …a very special day… It started out as a beautiful sunny crisp fall day, a day filled with excitement, love and family. Magic was in the air as the sun set over the water we said our vows and sealed them with a kiss, and the celebration began with family and friends, truly a magical day!
A year later…this year…this past Sunday…a very special day... It was a beautiful sunny crisp fall day that began with excitement and love….and morning turned into afternoon… and afternoon turned into an ordinary day…a very ordinary day. Washing clothes for the work week, working on the computer, and to get out of the house to enjoy the beautiful day…a trip to the dog park.
YUP…a very ordinary day….should have left him there…he’s in the Dog House!
Graduation
So my “baby” girl graduated from high school two weeks ago. Cue the nostalgic mood music. It was just yesterday that she let me do her hair, pick out her clothes, and buckle her into a car seat. Stop the music. Today she does her own hair, picks out her clothes, and (hopefully) buckles up before peeling out. How did this happen overnight? After all, I just graduated…25 years ago.
High school graduation is an important milestone, whether it feels like that or not. It means you are educated, whether it feels like that or not. It means you met standards, whether it feels like it or not. It means you worked hard, whether it feels like that or not. It means you are ready for adulthood, whether it feels like that or not.
Graduation prompts an interesting behavior I call grudge evaporation. Grudge evaporation happens when all of your classmates are your friends because you’ll probably never see some of them again. Gone as if by magic are those petty leftover grudges from grades gone by. She didn’t share? Oh well. He didn’t call? Too bad. He spit in your hair in the 6th grade? So what. She told her other best friend who told her cousin who told her other best friend who told her mom who told your mom? Who cares. Bygones are bygones. Say goodbye and move on.
High school can be an all-consuming never-ending cycle of friends, homework, and activities. Graduation puts a screeching halt to the old familiar routines and flings wide open the door to the future. Yes, Virginia, there is life after high school. A lot of it. For me, at least 25 years’ worth so far. Colleges, careers, vacations, lazy days, new houses, new friends, new spouses, kids, pets, cars – the list of life goes on and on. And the best part of post-grad life? Who you have been is not necessarily who you become.
So to my own graduate and by extension to recent graduates everywhere, enjoy becoming you. To us older and wiser graduates, let’s just keep on becoming ourselves – we’re not done yet!
BOGO
I’m notoriously cheap. Pinching pennies and stretching dollars are my modus operandi. Once in a while I go a little crazy, though. Every now and then I come across a BOGO sale. Buy One Get One – the only way to spend money. I love BOGO deals because free is a very good price. Buy one frozen pizza, get one free. Buy one flower pot, get one free. Buy one college education, get one free.
Okay, okay, college isn’t really like that – but it can be. My husband is one of those perpetual college students. We met in college when he went for the first time. The second time he went to college we had two little girls and two cats. The third time he went to college we had not-so-little girls and four cats. The fourth time he went to college we had gray hair, a herd of cats and a puppy. I shudder to think of the aging or wildlife that more college might bring. Anyway, when it’s all added up he’s been in college for 12 years, half of our 24-year marriage. We have paid a lot of money for his education and mine has been free. BOGO.
Over the course (and courses!) of all those college years, I’ve acquired a heap of knowledge through a process I call Wife Typist Osmosis or WTO. Actually it is a BOGO side-effect and this is how it happens: when the wife types assignments or papers, the wife asks questions. In response and maybe in defense, the husband shares his textbooks and lecture notes. Now the wife knows what the husband knows. It’s as simple as that. So, some of this wife’s most favorite BOGO classes have been world history, children’s literature, classroom management, and educational philosophy. The assorted “ologies” (geology, sociology, and biology) were pretty good, too. Math and more math were not favorites. Just think about it – all of this education and I’ve never had to take a quiz, pass a test, or sweat a final. BOGO WTO.
Now that the kids are in college, I have the chance to expand my educational horizons by the BOGO.2 and BOGO.3 versions. Those editions don’t come with WTO attached because the girls know how to type. However, the recently developed and stringently tested MEO, Mama Editor Osmosis, module is included!
There is a downside to BOGO WTO and BOGO MEO learning, though. The free education is undocumented. No advanced degrees decorated with curlicue flourishes. No fashionably medieval academic hood. But oddly enough, that’s okay because undocumented certainly doesn’t mean unrecognized. My typing and editing efforts are frequently rewarded with non-BOGO roomy tote bags, sparkly earrings, or sweet chocolate. Roomy, sparkly, and sweet – just like the wife/mama/typist/editor herself!
Blessings
Considering that it’s Thanksgiving, I’ve decided it’s time to count my blessings. Financially, it's tight all over so should I count my spare change instead? Nope. There’s not enough of it to bother with. But blessings…. There are plenty of those.
Here are my Top 10 Blessings so far today…
Blessing #1: baby carrots. They are already peeled. Being left-handed with a right-handed peeler is a cursing, so I love the safety of baby carrots.
Blessing #2: band-aids. See above.
Blessing #3: the grocery store. Everything I want in one convenient location, neatly displayed with clear plastic wrapping or pull-top lids. Mrs. Pilgrim would be jealous.
Blessing #4: a grocery list. I don’t leave home without it or I’ll have to go back home to get it.
Blessing #7: coupons. The savings give me some spare change to count.
Blessing #8: nice paper plates. Really, there are some – sturdy, gravy-proof, and recyclable. Mrs. Pilgrim would be doubly jealous.
Blessing #9: a car. I can get over the river and through the wood to Grandma’s house before the green bean casserole gets cold.
Blessing #10: football. I’m not really a fan, but it keeps the guys out of the kitchen.
So, may I leave you some holiday advice? Count your blessings, beware of peelers, shop strategically, and enjoy your feast. Happy Thanksgiving!
Commercial Break
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a commercial break. No, not the kind where you book it to the fridge for a cold diet soda before your favorite show is back on. I’m talking about a political commercial break. This election season has prompted some of the most negative commercials and dirty dog politics I’ve ever seen on the small screen. Every vote, every decision, every trip, and every purchase has been called into question. Every thing from frozen peas to office furniture has been flung before the voters in the hope of victory on election night. Candidates and committees have been flinging it as us for months now and it’s almost over. Tomorrow I can stop ducking.
I never thought I’d say it, but all of these commercials have made me realize how much I’ve missed all the other awful commercials I used to see. Like the pipe people who advertise bladder control medicine. Or the do-it-yourself DNA kit “conveniently located right next to the pregnancy tests.” Or the low-budget used car salesman superhero who can get you “the car of your dreams regardless of your past credit history.” Or toilet cleaning tools called “wands.” Political advertising has made even these clunkers look like the best thing on T.V., ranking right up there with foreclosure infomercials.
It’s important to be an informed voter, but after all of these political commercials… I’m a stressed and irritated voter. I’m a cranky and cantankerous voter. I’m a voter who just can’t wait until the voting is over. I’m a voter who’s ready for a commercial break.
Costumes Aren't For Everyone
I love Halloween, really I do. It’s the time of year when piles of crispy, crunchy leaves are just asking to be jumped in, and for a couple of weeks, no one yells at me for shooing away the neighbors black cat. Plus, there is CANDY. Candy is everywhere. I can sneak pieces all day long and no one is the wiser. Sometimes I even stash a few in my super secret hiding spot, but my mom usually finds those (I guess it’s not so super secret anymore). But this part. THIS is ridiculous. Completely unacceptable.
I told my mom that I don’t like dressing up. When she brought home that stupid chicken costume and showed it to me, I cringed and started my ‘I don’t wanna!’ whining routine. Then, when she wanted me to try it on, I hid under the bed.
“Oh, quit complaining, you’ll look adorable!” she said.
“I promise no one will make fun of you.” she said.
I knew then and I know now that both of those statements are completely false. Time and time again, she says the same thing and makes me the same promises, and it always turns out badly.
It will be just like last year, and the year before that. Mom throws a Halloween party, and the house is filled with people laughing and giggling at me, giving me pitying looks and stuffing me back into my costume whenever I manage to wriggle out of part of it. The worst part is, every time I pick up something tasty, someone takes it away, saying “I don’t think your mom wants you to have all that sugar.” Every time! It’s torture. It’s not just regular torture, either. It’s humiliating torture.
It’s not gonna happen this year. No way, no how. I’m busting out of this joint and having one night of freedom to celebrate Halloween my way. You see, I have a plan.
As the party approaches, everything falls into place perfectly. I take a bath and my mom puts the loathsome chicken costume on me with much less difficulty than usual. That should have been her first clue that something was up.
I sit calmly on the couch while she finishes with the decorations and prepares the refreshments. ME, calm before a party? No begging to sample the food, no following her around trying to get her attention? That should set the warning bells off.
To top it off, as the guests arrive, I greet them happily, politely and affectionately. Hey, I like my mom’s friends, but being happy and polite while in a chicken costume? Really?
It’s time for me to make my move. The party is in full swing, and I dart out the front door when it is opened for a group of trick or treaters. I hear people yelling at me to come back, but within a minute, I am blocks away, joyfully joining the crowds of costumed kids. Phase Two: The Adventure Begins
I slip in with different groups as they knock on doors and ring doorbells. We run from house to house, and while others drop their treats into their sacks or buckets, every goodie I get, I eat immediately. It’s all more wonderful than I ever imagined.
My favorite houses are the ones that have left a bowl full of treats on their front porch, trusting kids to respect the honor system. I’m sorry, but there is no respect in my game plan for the evening. This is my one, and I fear my only, Halloween to do exactly what I want. I gorge myself on these bowls of candy then and there, as there is no chance I can take any home with me. I eat until the parents of the younger trick or treaters scold me and I run away.
With my belly is full of sweet gooey goodness, I feel like I have successfully accomplished the ‘treat’ part of the evening. It’s time to bring on the tricks.
Listen, I’m not usually bad. In fact, I’m a good boy most of the time. I just want to have the complete Halloween experience. As I’m wandering away from a bowl of candy I just cleaned out, I come across a group of teenagers who seem to be as into the whole ‘trick’ thing as much as I am, and the mischief begins.
I help them unroll toilet paper to decorate a front yard, I pull down a few decorations, and we hide in bushes then jump out to scare little kids. I do think I crossed the line when I peed on a neighbor’s doormat, though. The teenagers seemed to love it but the owner of the house was none too pleased.
As the streets begin to clear, I turn towards home. I have heard my mom and her friends calling to me for the past couple of hours, and I’m starting to feel guilty for running away. Besides, I’m getting tired, my tummy doesn’t feel so good, and I have one more trick to play.
When I get to my house, the front door flies open and I am grabbed up in a big hug. I though my mom would be angry, but she just keeps hugging me, kissing me, and telling me how worried she was. I must look frightful, as I am covered with smears of candy and my costume is dirty and torn from the bushes. I’m beginning to feel a little bad about what’s to come, but I’ve already passed the point of no return.
The party is still in full swing, as planned. I walk to the center of the living room with people fawning over me with every step. I stand there for a moment and then start heaving. That’s right. I puke right smack in the middle of the party. I usually feel terrible when I throw up on the rug, but not this time. It’s my moms turn to be embarrassed on Halloween, and nothing is more humbling than being on your hands and knees in the middle of your own party dealing with that disgusting mess.
I really hope my mom got the message, and next Halloween will be different. Now, with my mission is accomplished, I look up at my mom and her friends, wag my tail, grab my favorite squeaky toy and trot off to lay on my bed and have a good chew.
The cat's cute, but he's no do
We were recently given a cat. I have sworn forever that I would never have a cat. It's been over a month now and I can say without reservation that he's cute, but he's no dog.
He doesn't fetch and his cat food smells bad. He doesn't "sit" or "shake" and he doesn't come when he's called or respond when I whistle. He sits on my head at night in bed... what's that about? You can't teach him tricks... as a matter of fact, he's a very slow learner. My wife tells him he's cute and he purrs. I tell him to do anything and he seems to not hear my voice. Doesn't even turn his head.
He doesn't like to go for a ride and when I put him on a leash to go for a run, he looked at me like I must be kidding!
It's embarassing to go out in public with a cat. He doesn't get excited when I say "Wanna go for a ride?" He doesn't know what a park is. He doesn't know how to play with other cats much less with kids. He's not interested in frisbees or tennis balls.
He doesn't meet me at the door at the end of the day panting and excited to see me.
I loved my dog. I miss having a dog. I need a dog.
Cat? Why bother!
Citius, Altius, Fortius = Swif
After two weeks of couch-potato Olympic coverage, I can definitely say I’m not moving swifter, higher or stronger. But I am in awe of the athletes who can! It’s amazing what the human body can be trained and prepared to do.
I’ll be the first one to admit that I’m not much of an athlete and have never been good at sports. Kickball was the bane of my elementary existence. Dressing down was the misery of my high school life. I’ve tried Jazzercise and believe you me, jumping around in front of a mirror while wearing a leotard is not a jazzy thing. Treadmills are ok, but I don’t like that distinct hamster-on-a-wheel feeling and I have a terrible time sticking the dismount. Oh sure, the dog and I go for walks, but they are more of the sniff-and-stroll variety. So in the meantime, I’m trying to crochet my way to fitness. Aerobically, it leaves something to be desired, but the doilies are great!
Maybe I can petition the International Olympic Committee to add crochet as a sanctioned event. Just imagine the commentary: “Simple, elegant, neat and tidy. That’s the best triple crochet stitch I’ve seen in the competition so far. If she manages to stick the tie-off, she’ll be in contention for a medal…”
So to athletes, non-athletes, and crocheters everywhere, best of luck in your efforts to be citius, altius, and fortius!
School Supplies -- My Favorite
Are you a shopper? I'm not. I hate shopping -- especially for Christmas gifts and groceries because no one likes what I buy. I have to grit my teeth every time the mall is mentioned. However, there is just one enjoyable annual shopping trip that's worth every penny -- school supplies!
This weekend I spent a lovely hour browsing the school supplies at a local store. My kids are big now (college and almost-college), so no more watercolors or blunt-end scissors. It's amazing how fast kids grow up, isn't it? Anyway... as I ambled up and down the aisles, I found myself bedazzled by notebooks, composition books, planners, portfolios, binders, journals, crayons, markers, pens, pencils, erasers, rulers... Let me not forget to mention the book bags, back packs, and lunch boxes. I almost fainted from the overwhelming variety.
What was your most favorite new school supply? Clean big pink erasers? Pens before the caps and ends are all chewed? It's so hard to choose just one, but my all-around grand-champion favorite new school supply is the college-ruled composition book.
In the 5th grade, my list of school supplies included a college-rule comp book. It languished in the bottom of my desk, buried under the usual elementary school detritus. One day the teacher asked us to pull them out for a "journaling activity." What the heck was that? The teacher explained this was like a diary, but instead of being super deluxe private with a heavy-duty heart-shaped lock, it would be turned in. The teacher would read our entries and write back to us. Then we could continue the conversation by writing back or start over with a new entry. Ancient I.M.-ing. Prehistoric blogging.
That activity unlocked the writer in me faster than my brother could pick a heart-shaped lock with a bent paper clip. Since then, I've filled heaven-knows how many composition books. I buy as many as I can find every fall and gleefully use 'em all up. And this year, in order to feel less old, I'm going to buy watercolors and blunt-end scissors!
"Cruise to the Moose"
August 23, 2008 ...... "Cruise to the Moose" (3pm to Dusk)
57317 Old Portland Road, Warren Oregon 97053
503-397-5354 for more information.
**PROCEEDS TO BENEFIT THE COLUMBIA COUNTY FOOD BANK!! OPEN TO THE PUBLIC!
3pm - 5pm Registration $10.00/car entry
5:30pm - 7:30pm BBQ
7:00pm Awards Presentation
8pm - 12am Music/Dance
Your day at the CC Fair & Rode
Columbia County Fair was a great success! Check out the videos and pictures, add your comments and tell us about your experiences at the fair and what was YOUR favorite, the animals, the rodeo, 4H or the food. What would you like to see at next years fair.
Opus Performs at the Fair
Twenty two individuals and dance teams performed at the 2008 Columbia County Fair today. Video has been posted and photos are coming soon. The audience was very attentive and gracious for all the dances.
Pirates of the County: Last Da
Saturday was a terriffic day at the fair. A huge crowd, all kinds of demonstrations by CEPA (tasers, fires and attack dogs!), more 4H activities and horses. And it was another beautiful day of sunshine! The evening brought the NPRA rodeo and Dancin' in the Dirt with the Concrete Cowboys. What a day. We posted more videos and photos including the Mutton Busting (sheep riding for 4 to 8 year olds), the Bucaneer Babay Gala, the Buccaneer Pre-School Party and Fair Talent Show Finals for all three levels. If you like kids and animals, the videos are for you.
Today is the last day. The weather is gonna be perfect again, the ATV/MX rodeo begins at 11:00 and the carniaval rides open at noon. See you there, Matey.
Parent Support Group Forming
I am forming a support group for parents that have children with special needs that live in Columbia County. There are so many of you out there that feel alone in your challenges. Many have difficulty finding a babysitter just to go out for dinner with their spouse.
My goal is for all interested to contact me. We could meet once a month (or more if you all wanted) at my office. Each month I would present material on certain disabilities, how to advocate for your child with the school district, and connecting you all together with support groups and folks you may not be aware of. You're not alone.
We will offer support, friendship, education, compassion and understanding. Please join us.
Karen
Motorcycle Group Forming
CRhighway's Motorcycle Group is for people who love the thrill of the road on 2 wheels. (Or 3) Whether you ride a road bike, an off-road bike or a chopper, post photos or even video, blog about your adventures and connect with other Group members.
Invite your friends. Post notices of rides, shows, meetings, etc. Spread the word.
CC Idol Videos From 6/5
Hey, everyone, the videos from the Thursday night auditions are finally posted! Sorry for the delay.
Be sure to come in person tot he first round of the competition next Thursday night at the 13 Nights on the River. Tell all your friends.
Name Game
This week I had the chance to attend a reading by one of my favorite authors. Of course it was great and so was the Q & A afterwards. But I had a question and didn’t ask it – I was overcome by celebrity cowardice. My question is, I think, something any writer of fiction has grappled with and must, at some point, find an answer. So here’s the burning question – how are characters’ names chosen?
Names are fascinating and so is the process of choosing a name. Volumes of baby names have been published and every year the media shares the Top Ten most popular boy and girl names. Where I work, I run across new names on a daily basis. Some are great, some are not so great, and some…well…I just hope those poor kids will change them when they grow up. I’ve met babies named after seasons, colors, movie stars, foods, constellations, plants, cars, historical figures, and geographical locations. I’ve met babies whose names are in the II, III, and even IV recycling. After more than 20 years of meeting babies, I have come to learn that names don’t reflect their ‘owners’ so much as they reflect the parents. What were some of those parents thinking at that oh-so-crucial naming moment? It’s practically cruel and unusual punishment to tag a sweet innocent baby with an awful moniker in the hopes of being unique or distinctive.
That’s what I worry about when I name my characters. I want them to be memorable, but not because of a ridiculous name. I’ve had a female villain in mind for a while now and I just can’t find the right name for her. I must have been subconsciously stewing about it the other night because I dreamed about her and she was named Saffron. No kidding. So where exactly did that name come from? Too much Food Network before bed? Too many yellow paint swatches taped to the kitchen wall? It’s truly a name dilemma – but I just can’t have my evil villain sounding like a Spice Aisle Girl.
And so the burning question continues to burn.
Dinner
“What’s for dinner?” If only I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that. Between the picky-eater kids and the suspicious-eater husband, I’d be rich! Now don’t get me wrong, I like cooking dinner. It’s just the decision-making before I get behind the stove that drives me crazy.
My mom took dinnertime seriously. Experts have long said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Well, those experts didn’t consult my mom who believed dinner was the overlord of all meals. Mom planned menus, kept track of recipes, and rotated leftovers. Almost every night our family gathered around the table for something hot and homemade. We never asked what was for dinner. Mom fixed it and we ate it. Pot roast, spaghetti, sweet ‘n sour meatballs and tacos were her signature dishes. Mom really was an outstandingly good cook.
I don’t know that I could claim to be an outstanding cook or even a good cook, but I can say that I’m a bored cook. Same pans, same process, night after night can be a real drag. How can such dinner drudgery be livened up? I like to use a dinner theme. There’s nothing like a theme to change mundane dinner into something special. So it could be Ethnic Dinner night, or Breakfast Dinner night, or Fend for Yourself Dinner night, or even Drive-Thru Dinner night. Dinner themes are limited only by my imagination and my paycheck. When my family asks the dreaded dinner question, I respond with my theme du jour. Here are my two all-time very most favorites…
Adventure Dinner! This is the most feared theme in my arsenal. Oh yeah. When it’s Adventure Dinner, every food is a new food – or at least new recipes. If your family’s like mine they will be afraid. Very afraid. This dinner can be time consuming to prepare what with intensive recipe researching and more-specific-than-usual grocery shopping. Crock-pot Adventure Dinners usually turn out pretty good. Curried Adventure Dinners, not so much. Please let me assure you that Adventure Dinner isn’t too bizarre or far-fetched, but it is always an adventure.
Monochromatic Dinner! Just picture this – poached chicken, mashed potatoes, and canned pears. Or how about this – fish sticks, mac ‘n cheese, and canned peaches. Yep, Monochromatic Dinner means all of the food is the same (or very nearly the same) color. The first time this dinner happened it was just dumb culinary luck. But now, it has evolved into a genuine theme. To do it justice, this dinner requires some serious planning and a fairly sophisticated color wheel. Using plates the same color as the food adds to the ambience and introduces an unexpected camouflage factor.
Hey, hold on there just a second… Camouflage? Another whole new dinner theme!