Pink Lady

Grease is the word. Except on October 31.

Happy Halloween, everyone.

Don't Look Ethel!

Did I mention I found The Book?

The Golden Poet stopped by over the weekend and I handed her the zippie of leftover sugar cookies for her boys. She and I speak a similiar language. "Ethel's?" she asked.

"Of course."

"They're the best," she answered.

I agreed.

Ethel's Sugar Cookies

3/4 c. shortening (part butter or margarine)
1 c. sugar
2 eggs
1/2 t. lemon flavoring or 1 tsp. vanilla
2 1/2 c. flour
1 t. baking powder
1 t. salt

Sift flour, baking powder and salt and set aside. Mix shortening (I usually make this 1 stick of butter and 1/4 c. of shortening), sugar, eggs, and flavoring thoroughly. Add flour mixture and blend well. Cover the dough and chill for at least one hour (overnight is better).

Heat oven to 400 degrees. Roll dough 1/4 inch thick on lightly sugared board (I like using sugar instead of flour when rolling out cookies). Cut with cookie cutters and place on ungreased cookie sheet or parchment papered tray. Bake 6 to 8 minutes or until cookies are a delicate golden color.

Just Follow The Happy Feet

Critter's school is having Spirit Week. Today is Wild Sock Day.

The Butterfly Strumpet

For those who don't know me, I work for a large non-profit that has ministries in a variety of areas. Suffice it to say, our campus computer users range from the misinformed to the tech savy. The latter does not usually apply to the residents of said organization who are, shall we say, a bit removed from the world due to the lifelong values they uphold. Yes, I think that's vague enough... :-)

Late last week we had a frantic e-mail from the lady who runs the Residence that her computer would not let her onto the Internet--it kept booting up to a pornographic website. I stopped by, changed her home page, and explained that somewhere along the way, she had probably clicked on something that had changed the page to that. No worries, though, it was an easy fix.

Over the weekend, however, there was another note from her that the Front Desk computer was infected. Suspecting it was the same issue as before, I made a point to swing by there first thing Monday morning. The receptionist had not yet arrived so I was greeted by Resident #1 who said the Internet was not working.

"Well, I think it is. I think someone just accidentally changed their home page to an innapropriate site. Do you know who it was that noticed the problem?" I logged in and pulled up the Internet; Google's website flashed into place. I nodded to myself--it was not computer-wide, it was just that one user.

"Well, I don't know. I'll page." She sent out two pages over the intercom and received no reply.

I began sifting through user accounts on the computer, looking for anything unusual. I logged into the computer as one common user and found that the home page took a long time to load--this was probably the user. I quickly closed the program as Resident #2 entered. "The computer has a virus," she informed me.

"No, no. Not really. Someone just clicked on something that changed their home page to a pornographic site." I clicked a few more times in Internet Explorer's tools, and changed the home page to something they were more likely to use.

"Well, can you check mine?" Resident #2 asked.

"Are you getting an inappropriate site? Do you see pornography?"

She adjusted her glasses, "What's pornography?"

I chuckled. "Well, um, you'd know it if you saw it." She gave me her credentials and I logged into the computer as her. A few mouse clicks and I had opened up Internet Explorer to a familiar blue website with a butterfly logo. "You've got MSN."

"Is that pornography?"

Pike's Pumpkin Paradise

Since being in Seattle last May, I've been craving pumpkin cookies like we found in Pike Street Market. Huge monster-sized treats of spicey goodness. This weekend, I found a recipe that comes close. Make them extra big so you don't have to go back for seconds so quickly!

Pike's Pumpkin Paradise

2 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
2 t. ground cinnamon *
1/2 t. ground nutmeg
1/2 t. ground cloves
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. butter, softened
1 1/2 c. white sugar
1 c. canned pumpkin
1 egg
1 t. vanilla

Icing (if you want, but in no way necessary!)
2 c. powdered sugar
3 T. milk
1 T. butter, melted
1 t. vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves and salt. Set aside.

In a medium bowl (or your stand mixer!), cream together the 1/2 cup of butter and white sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla to the butter mixture. Beat until creamy. Mix in the dry ingredients.

Drop onto a cookie sheet by large spoonfuls (the bigger the better, in my opinion!). I was able to get six to a parchment lined cookie sheet. Keep the mounds a bit thick--the dough will spread some but it will end up a cake-like cookie after baking. If you flaten it slightly (which I did), it will hold the icing a bit better.

Bake for 15-20 minutes (I baked it for 15 and they turned out yummy).

To make the glaze, combine the powdered sugar, milk, 1 Tablespoon of melted butter, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Add milk as needed to achieve drizzling consistency.

Our cookies didn't really last long enough to ice... I think next time I may have to do a double batch.


Edited 11-21-2006

* During our annual November Craft Party I inadvertently grabbed the Costco-sized container of nutmeg instead of cinnamon. Still delicious!

A Blog By Any Other Name

After work I trudged up to the attic to find The Book. I was certain it was up there somewhere and it was getting imperative I find it soon as I need to make cookies. Need. I've got a beautiful new kitchen and I can't recall how to make my famous maple cookies. Nor Ethel's Sugar Cookies. And I hadn't laughed at the recipe for Trix cereal balls in several months.

After several boxes of antiques and Christmas decorations I did find an old plastic tub with items from Eugene. One of them had old t-shirts, a music box with plastic hair ties, a collection of calligraphy pen nibs, and a paper-clipped bundle of papers from high school.

I climbed back down the ladder with the papers and joined CrafterKat and Critter at the dinner table. "Guess what? I had a Blog in the ninth grade!"

CrafterKat laughed. "That would be called a Log..."

I only vaguely remember writing in a journal in the ninth grade--we were given a topic each day and had to write for the first ten minutes of class. The more of a page you filled, the higher points you received. And somewhere in there we were to use the journal to craft a short story that took place on a river. Mine had an Indiana Jones feel to it and the only bit I recall vividly was the exotic Asian dinner I made up consisting of a large water snake from said river.

CrafterKat and I reviewed them after dinner, chuckling at my precise cursive scrawl and comments that were written in the margins. This one takes me back (the links are all 21st century--remember we couldn't do this on paper back then...):

September 12

Video Games

Video games seem to be the "in" thing right now.

I enjoy playing video games but probably not as much as most people my age.

I have an Atari at home and I have the cartridges Pitfall, Asteroids, Circus, Super Breakout, Space Invaders, and a couple others.

My favorite is Pitfall. You are the man named Pitfall Harry and you're looking for treasures, gold, silver, a diamond ring, or money bags. But you have to watch out for alligators, snakes, fire, lakes, scorpions, rolling logs, and of course pits. My highest score is around 75,000 points.

My favorite arcade games are Centipede, Galaxian, and Donkey Kong. The game I despise the most is Pac-Man.

What's the use of a little yellow sphere gobbling up tiny white specs? Ghosts are chasing you. So what? That is one game you really waste quarters on.

~ Jewel Geek

If memory serves, I really only liked Galaxian because it was a) like space invaders and b) Duran Duran played it when on tour. Pac-Man was stupid because 1) I didn't get it free with my Atari console like other people did which bummed me out and 2) I always got eaten by the little ghostie things. Circus was the cheap version of Super Breakout. Since my parents didn't want to shell out $45 for Breakout, I got this rather lame game where you had two circus clowns jump up from a see-saw and punch out colored blocks, er, balloons. I did eventually get Super Breakout but only after much gnashing of braced teeth.

12-9-83

Journal 4

My favorite television station is MTV!

I think its great to "see" songs by your favorite artists. Mine are Duran Duran, Men at Work, INXS, and others.

When you get too see your favorite groups move to words it can do wonders for you!

The VJ's (video jocks) all have there own personalities.

Alan Hunter--my favorite likes mooses (he has moose and mini moose to talk too), fruits (he is one), and the uncensored version of Girls on Film.

Martha Quinn--she looks like a mini mouse with make-up.

Nina Blackwood--considering she was a Playboy Centerfold at one point in her career, I don't really like. Simon LeBon does though!

Mark Goodman--he's okay. When he came back from Calif. he played two D.D. songs in one hour. I was happy.

(over)

J.J. Jackson--No he's not related to Michael but he was the first to premier "Thriller." My friends and I call him Whopper.

~Jewel Geek

Four Bucks of Hometown Goodness

I only ever recall going to one high school football game growing up. At that time, our high school didn't have a football field on the campus--all games were held at Autzen Stadium. And it was usually cold and wet. I don't really recall anything about the game except that Leech drove (she was a year older than I) and that we huddled under a too-thin blanket, trying to stay warm in the Eugene drizzle.

But this isn't Eugene. And the high school has it's own quaint football field with covered bleachers. Cars lined both sides of the street and a very full parking lot. CrafterKat and I were amazed at the turn out. I whispered, "Welcome to our future."

CrafterKat found a place to park, handed off a cell phone to Critter, and got in line to pay our football admission. Four dollars a person. I had to blink. That's it? Teens and pre-teens milled around the track oblivious to the game but extremely excited to be 1) away from their parents, 2) outside at night, and 3) socializing.

We found an empty bleacher and spread out blankets. The stands were filled with young families and proud fathers. Boys with saber-long Pixie Sticks poked their siblings. Young girls wore Gladiator shirts and smeared mascara under their eyes to imitate NFL players. Moms sold fresh corn on the cobb to raise money for the graduation party. It felt like the whole small town had turned out for this event--it was quite obvious that people who didn't have high school kids were attending the game just to have a family excursion.

Within two minutes our Gladiators had intercepted the ball and scored a touchdown. The crowd went wild and I admit I was a little misty-eyed. We bought a flashing football pin and a licorice rope, clapped for the thick-legged cheerleaders, and cheered on the team.

The night was warm for October and stunningly clear. There was a small hometown feel to this event that I've never experienced. Perhaps it was the high school band playing renditions of Ease on Down The Road and the Magnum P.I. theme. Or the announcer thanking the small businesses like Uncle Al's car mechanic shop, a family dentistry, and a concrete cutter for their financial donations. Or the local Harley motorcycle club dropping off the Senior Gladettes for the half-time dance.

No drizzle. No wind. CrafterKat and I huddled under the blanket and soaked in small town warmth.

Car Names

I don't know about you, but I like to name my cars. My first car was a little white, 2-door Toyota Corolla. I called it the "Washing Machine" because it was always dirty. My next car was a 4-door, white Mazda 323. It was my grandmother's car (don't ask...) with intermittent wipers and air conditioning. After 20 years, the air conditioning has gone out... I just call it the 323 or Maz.

So while putting the cute Tinker Bell stickers on my new Sienna, and the fancy new Tinker Bell mats under my feet, I was thinking about nicknames for this car. Tigger. Green Machine. (Nah - that's Mr. GoGoGo's truck.) Tinker. Tink.

Tink Tank.

Hee hee hee.

A Flashback Weekend

My mother, the Social Butterfly, called early Friday morning and rasped, "I don tink I'm cummin' ub tis weekend. I'm all stubbed ub." We shared a brief exchange of sniffles and I wished her well. I was finally coming off of my week-long cold stint and was hoping that CrafterKat wasn't coming down with it.

Saturday morning CrafterKat woke especially early and painted the final two walls from our remodel. We had the archway by the stairs and the little half wall that needed to be painted creamy beige, also known as peach. It was a bit of deja vu--we had painted part of the wall by Critter's bathroom and done touch-ups down the stairway a few weeks earlier. Her measurements from February are now gone. In fact, she actually shrunk a bit, as the floor was higher in the kitchen last winter when we began the remodel.

That afternoon we enjoyed fabulous pot stickers and hot and sour soup at Hong Kong 97 before heading out to see Sweet Charity, starring Molly Ringwald. I sort of knew the story--I had seen a few clips of the movie with Shirley MacLaine--but hadn't ever watched it all the way through. We had several good laughs, especially with Charity and her beau in the elevator. At one point, a man dressed as Andy Warhol strolled across the 1966 stage to the delight of the audience.

"Why is everyone laughing?" Critter asked.

"That man with the white hair? He's supposed to be Andy Warhol, a famous artist from the sixties. Do you know him?" She shook her head. "He painted a huge Campbells soup can?" Another blank look. "Um, Marilyn Monroe? He painted her in blues and greens and such?"

"Who's Marilyn Monroe?"

For the rest of intermission CrafterKat and I tried to explain, pulling out current comparisons (Madonna's Material Girl video) and movies Critter might have seen. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes? No. Some Like It Hot? Nuh-uh. How to Marry a Millionaire? Negatory.

We are the generation bridge, we determined, as familiar with our parent's era as our own.

Sunday we visited Bridgeport Village, a new shopping mall in Tualatin. It's an outdoor mall and instantly reminded us of Downtown Disney--wide pedestrian areas with elite shops and a variety of restaurants.

We passed a gelato restaurant and a candy kiosk with a variety of sugary delights. Critter pointed to one giant glob of sugar the size of a tennis ball. "I once had a jawbreaker that big. I had to pound it into pieces with a sledgehammer."

CrafterKat laughed. "Are you old enough to remember Farrell's?" Critter shook her head. "Well, it was an ice cream parlour in Eugene and when you left the restaurant, you passed this huge selection of candy like that." She chuckled a moment and continued. "Renaissance Man bought a jawbreaker like that and worked on it for several weeks and then decided that he'd take a sledge hammer to it. I didn't know it at the time, mind you, I just heard the loud whack from the garage. He came inside and admitted that he had missed the candy and left a huge dent in the concrete. 'I'll give you half if you promise not to tell.' And I never did..."

We picked up Critter's copy of the Black Stallion and Satan (not Satine, as she insisted) and then perused the shopping directory for a place to eat. Pastini's won. I laughed as we opened the door and whispered to CrafterKat, "I always think Pastini is something the Sand People would say... 'Pasteeeneeee!' as they go charging down a sand dune..."

She shook her head at me. "You're weird."

After lunch we took a leisurely stroll through Crate and Barrell and tried out various couches and chairs that might fit in our living room...until we glanced at the price tags. Most every chair that might fit cost more than two car payments. We'd take turns saying, "How good is my taste?" and flip over the price tag. I think CrafterKat won with a deliciously soft, coffee leather chair (ottoman not included) for $2000.

For that price, the chair had better come with a built-in sound system and brew its own coffee!

A Little Brain Dead

And now, a few words from Critter:

So yesterday on the 7th JewelGeek and I were out getting a book to replace the one that I had misplaced for school. She had not been feeling very well the past few days so she was a bit brain dead. It was about 7:30 pm and we were trying to get into our new van, JewelGeek pushed the button like three times and we finally got into the car. As she sat down she said, "Did you see what was happening???"

And I said, "No what???"

"Well every time I hit our button to get in the car the other guy’s car lights go off," she said.

Then I was like, "Whoa!!! Do it again." And she did. "Jewelgeek those are our lights. They go off when you push the lock and unlock button."

"Oh!!! Sorry I’m a little tired...."

Banana Splits and Strawberry Shortcake

Evil PXE (pronounced Pixie) and I made a Costco run at lunch today. I treated him to a hotdog and soda (CrafterKat and I call this a Cheap Date after the many hotdogs we ate there one summer) and discussed the Intel lay-offs, car mat accessories, and our kids.

Yesterday was Critter's first volleyball game, I told him. I dragged myself out of bed--I've been sick on and off (mostly 'on' CrafterKat would say) with sniffles, sneezes and coughs--and went to her first Intramural game. I found the gaggle of yellow t-shirt clad kids and cheered her on. She was the first to serve for her team and scored early on. Despite early successes, The Banana Splits lost both of their games. It didn't seem to phase Critter much--she encouraged her teammates with a hearty "Way to go!" and "Go Splits!"

Evil PXE shared stories of playing whiffle ball with his four-year old daughter and the challenges facing them as she approaches Kindergarten. "My kids are so different!" he repeated several times and recounted how when his daughter was his son's age (he is two), she was already figuring out the whole potty training routine.

"He just doesn't get it. Doesn't even know it's happening, you know?" He sighed and ate another bite of his hot dog. "I think I'm going to have to buy some cool panties or something."

I laughed. "You might be careful how you say that! You mean underwear for him, right? Girls wear panties, boys wear underwear."

He nodded and laughed good-naturedly.

"Underoos, right?" I asked.

He nodded again and pretended to hold up a pair of small undergarments, raising his voice an octave. "Yes! I need to buy cool panties! Maybe with Strawberry Shortcake on them..?"

Wheels Part 2

She’s beautiful! So clean. So soft. So pure.

Yes, after an afternoon tip-toeing around the subject, I finally made moon-eyes at my sweetie over dinner and told her the car was the color of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, and I really wanted it. I had already prepared for the down payment. She had already put her foot down on the monthly payment and been confirmed by the car dealership. All we had to do was go back to the dealership, fill out some forms, pay the down payment, and drive away.


Two hours later… My goodness, these guys wheel & deal! It took me an unusual amount of time to realize that the finance guy (a new one – although the slimy one was still there), was trying to “sell” us a long-term maintenance agreement and add the costs to our monthly payments. I think I listened intently for 45 minutes before realizing what was going on. And then I had the wherewithal to say “Look, we can only afford to pay what we negotiated on the floor.”

He finally gave up and we signed the forms, signed over the down payment, and were rewarded with waiting around for the car to be “detailed.” Um... it’s 2 days old…

By now it was pitch black outside. I fiddled with the headlights, adjusted the power seat (hee), and tried to figure out where to put the gearshift so we could drive. No lights on the gearshift. You’re supposed to read the dashboard lights to know which gear you’re in. As I’ve not had that feature before, it stumped me.

We pulled out slowly into traffic, my dad behind us in his Camry. “Let’s take the freeway,” I offer. We live less than 5 minutes away on the surface streets. The freeway gains me maybe 3 more minutes in the minivan.

“Ok,” JewelGeek grins.

My dad follows suit. JewelGeek and I don’t really say much. We play with the radio a bit. We squeeze each other’s hands, and suddenly realize we’re really far apart.

The minivan stinks. “New car smell” is stinky and no one will convince me otherwise. I begin formulating a plan to convert its stinkiness to Green Apple as soon as I can get my hands on a Yankee Candle car freshener. The blue dashboard light is bright and futuristic. It’s so cool.

We park in the gravel beside the house. Tomorrow (Sunday), my dad and I will clean out a side of the garage so we can park it inside. [We later figure out that I have to fold in the driver’s side mirror in order to fit inside the garage…]


I love it. Today (Friday), I took a nap in the back during lunch. The carpet was soft and warm against my face. My toes (freed from the slip-on sandals I’m wearing today) played gleefully with the fuzziness and cold metal pieces under the middle row of seats. I could hardly hear the roar of buses 8 floors below me, or the police siren. And although I can pretty much nap anywhere, the fact that I actually fell asleep hard in the back of my new minivan just further confirms for me that this was meant to be a part of my life.

Wheels Part 1

Friday, I took my 1987 Mazda 323 to the garage for oil/lube change. I also asked them to check on the rough idle and the "hiccup" when accelerating from a stop. A new hose, new spark plug wires, new filter for something, and $350 later... I seriously began thinking "I've got to get a new car." My mechanic told me there was nothing seriously wrong with my Mazda, except that it was old. And I could look for a new car now, while I could still drive my Mazda. Or I could look for one later, when my Mazda finally gave up.

That was right before lunch. Lunch was a staff meeting, and I went in sulking and wondering aloud if I should start researching cars. I got all kinds of comments/help/advice from my coworkers. Some of it was actually helpful. After the meeting, I starting doing my homework.

Some time ago, I saw a Beetle and commented that a sparkly blue Beetle with black accents would be cool. And the license plate could be "Scarab". So of course, JewelGeek immediately wanted to know if I wanted a Beetle. Um... no, not really. It was a fantasy, not a serious musing.

I want a Toyota - reliable, good maintenance records, good gas mileage, comfortable, etc. I looked at the Prius a LOOOOOOOOOONG time, before finding out it costs 3 times as much to repair because of all the specialty hybrid parts. I looked at Camrys. They look exactly like JewelGeek's Camry. And my parents' Camry. Another stable, ho-hum sedan with nothing particularly interesting about it. And for the same amount of money, we could get a minivan.

Hmmm. A minivan. So, I looked at the Sienna. And I liked what I saw. Ok - mediocre in-town gas mileage. But this wouldn't be the primary commute car. This would be for road trips, and hauling stuff to the dump, and carrying our bikes to a flat park so we can ride for hours, and driving out to the Gorge on a Sunday afternoon to watch the windsurfers.

By Friday night, I was pretty sure I wanted a Sienna. We got pre-approved for a loan through our credit union. And we called my parents to see if they could come up on Saturday (a day early) so Mr. GoGoGo could go with us to look at cars.

Saturday morning, we did what we could around the house and tried not to stare out the window to watch for my parents to arrive. Had lunch. Looked online (again) at local dealerships for good inventory so we could test drive, and took off with Mr.GoGoGo.

We went to our local Toyota dealership. Met a nice young sales guy who had only been working at the lot for a week. He had to ask a coworker where the Siennas were. And then had to walk back across the lot for the key for the one we were to test drive.

We walked up to a beautiful mint-chocolate-chip-ice cream green, 2006 Sienna, with power windows, power mirrors, power side door, programmable garage door openers, multiple "lighter" plugs, separate air controls for the middle/back passengers, 7 seater, easy-fold-down back bench seats, more cup holders than you can possibly use, new-car-smell, grey stone cloth interior, tinted back windows, automatic, 2 wheel drive, and 12-miles on the odometer. We put 5 miles on it during the test drive.

We forgot to try the radio, but we played with everything else. I had a whispered conversation with JewelGeek while the salesguy chatted up Mr.GoGoGo. I could hear everything they said, everything JewelGeek whispered back to me, and hardly anything of the road. I wasn't even sure my turn signal was on at one point.

The finance guy (different from the sales guy and 4 times slimier), pushed hard for us to walk away with a finance plan and the Sienna. JewelGeek, bless her heart, is one harda** negotiator.

The finance guy made the fatal error - "What can I do to get you in this car today?"

And JewelGeek let him have it: "Lower the price to $20,000."

Long pause. "Um, seriously, what can I do?"

My reply -- "We cannot afford the finance plans you've offered."

FinanceGuy: What can you afford?

JewelGeek: $350 a month.

Me: And $2500 down, maximum.

FinanceGuy: Give me a moment...

Sure enough, a few moments later, he was back with another offer. Which JewelGeek folded up and buried in her hand. "I have to sleep on it." He started to protest, and she held firm. "You're not going to convince me to buy a car at this moment. I'm going home." And we left.

JewelGeek wasn't quite shaking with anger, but she was definitely giving off waves of annoyance and impatience. So, at home I was careful not to talk about "The Minivan" unless JewelGeek brought it up. And then I danced around lightly, asking broad, open-ended questions, and offering simple replies to her musings.

Buy it now. Buy it later. Do nothing. Those were the options. She just had to pick. I just hoped she would pick the option I wanted...

Cash For Cash

Our Little Man is a big stinker. On purpose. He is notorious for letting us know when the kitty litter box is not clean enough, according to his high standards, by leaving us little presents. Sometimes in the downstairs hall, sometimes in the laundry room, but mostly in the little shower bathroom.

If only he were a little more curious about the toilet, we've often thought, we could maybe do away with the litter box once and for all.

And then I found the website for Citikitty. For about $30 you can train your cat to use the toilet. Sounds pretty good to us, if we can find the spare change.

Spare change...

I e-mailed CrafterKat and told her to have Critter start counting up the coins I set aside each day. When I came home there was a huge pile of quarters and pennies on the computer desk. We filled a zippie and drove to the nearest CoinStar machine that makes gift certificates payable to Amazon.com.

Critter jiggled the zippie in her lap and sighed. "I wish we could get cash for cash."

I laughed. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know, like when you turn in cans and get money? I wish you could do that with coins. Turn in like twenty dollars and get a thousand dollars back. That'd be awesome!"

I whole heartedly agreed.

Nitty Gritter, Grabbers, and Clinchers

Critter raced out of her room. "Come see! Quick! We've got peacocks!" CrafterKat and I glanced up from dinner preparations with what must have been an incredulous look. "Well, okay, pea hens!" she ammended.

Peacocks? Here? I tried to picture these large, proud birds strutting down our paved drive. "Are you sure they aren't pheasants?"

I wiped my hands and followed her back to the room. No sign of any large colored bird outside her window. "You're too late. They went up the street," she informed me.

"Well, take the camera and see if you can get a picture."

A nice diversion from the homework routine into which she is slowly settling. The last diversion was having a Sleepover with Annie May last weekend. I was greeted with a "It's very nice to meet thee," from Critter and a "Yo" from her friend. The fishing hat with LaLa's wedding gown is a nice touch, I admit.

Critter is learning that eighth grade is vastly different from seventh grade. I attended the Open House last week and discovered that she'll be getting lots of homework.

Her math teacher and her science teacher won a grant to have a Smart Board installed in their classrooms. It's a way for them to project websites or pre-written documents (done on their computer) up on a screen. The kids or the teacher can then write on the Smart Board with special pens or manipulate the website by just touching the screen with the fingers. The kids love it and try to be the first to finish in class so they can "write" on the board. Very impressive!

Her block teacher will be covering the beginnings of our government (the jury system, the Constitution, etc.) and the history of America through the Civil War and Industrial Revolution. He is also strengthening their writing skills--encouraging them to backup their position on a topic and pull the reader in.

Science class will be studying genetics this year as well as review of the scientific process. Critter informed us she'd be bringing home worms later this week. "Um, why?"

She grinned. "To see what they do. I'm gonna let them go in the Compost bin outside." I relaxed a bit when 'outside' was mentioned.

They have a new choir teacher this year, a young woman from the high school who will be here exactly one class period each day. Her hope is to build the choir program at the high school by strengthening their skills before they get there. She's playing different music each morning--country to opera to punk--and having the kids discuss it afterwards. Should be interesting...

Her math teacher is teaching pre-algebra plus reviewing basic math skills or The Nitty Gritty. Fortunately, her teacher has a good sense of humor and seems to be a patient man. I've already been informed that I'm the parent that deals with Language Arts stuff, not math... Sigh.

PE isn't too different than last year. The only new routine is that Critter is going to participate in intramural volleyball after school. A sports physical is required now for this type of activity, vastly different from my memories of team sports. Show up, run around the court and then, if you're still breathing, begin training.

I picked her up early, double-checking that she had everything for tonight's homework crusade. She rolled her pre-14 year old eyes. "Yes, I've got everything from my locker except for a pen and some pictures."

"What do you have for tonight?"

"Ten math problems and Grabbers and Clinchers."

My mind raced. Grabbers and Clinchers? What is this, some fly-fishing reference? "Um, what's that mean?"

"Clinchers are really good endings. And Grabbers are really good openings when you're writing. I gotta write a paragraph with a Grabber. You wanna hear it?" She proceeded to read me her Grabber story opening on the ride up the elevator. I agreed, it was pretty good.

And this story's Clincher? Her snapped photo.

"See? They're white pea hens!"

Well, maybe albino pea hens, I conceded mentally. Certainly not pheasants.

CrafterKat laughed. "They're egrets!"

We called LaLa (our bird officianado) and found out that they ARE, in fact, peacocks. White peacocks. Wandering around our neighborhood. How cool is that?!

Cinnamon Autumn With a Pinch of Molasses Drama

Last weekend, in my mind, was the beginning of Autumn. Mostly because I was able to do this.

Well, maybe not gingerbread cookies, but it was the first opportunity to bake in the new kitchen. Notice how tiny the old kitchen looked... I can't believe that I ever survived nine years with so little counter space. And my head is extremely happy, too. I can't tell you how often I've bumped my noggin on those old cabinets above that penisula.

Now when we bake or cook, it resembles this:

Last weekend was action packed--and baking cookies was the perfect way to begin. Friday night I had decided what cookies to make (chocolate chip, peanut butter, and some sort of molasses cookie). I made sure that I had unsalted butter (the only ingredient I wasn't sure was in the freezer) and went to bed.

Saturday morning I retrieved said butter and pulled out the stand mixer [insert sounds of angels singing here] only to find that it needed to be thoroughly washed. It had been stored under the computer desk in the living room for three months and had accumulated several ickies inside the bowl. Sigh. I methodically washed the bowl, the stand, and any other little bit that connected to the mixer.

With the butter melting on the stove, I began pulling out all of the flours and sugars needed for Alton's recipe. And then went looking for the flour sifter... Not where it used to be, snuggled down with the measuring cups. Found it one drawer down from there. Sifted the flour and went to add baking soda. No measuring spoons with the measuring cups. Found them somewhere else. Are you beginning to see just how much bigger our kitchen is?

The first batch of cookie dough went into the fridge while I pondered which kind of molasses cookie I wanted to make. Time to get The Book. Which was not on the new bookshelf we purchased for the living room. Nor was it in the cookie cutter drawer (yes--we have a drawer for cookie cutters!). Nor was it nestled among the DVDs and computer games on the large oak shelf from Mr. GoGoGo's old law office.

I believe at this point I suffered a minor heart attack.

After several deep breaths I was able to locate a hand-written molasses cookie recipe. That called for shortening. Which we hardly ever buy. Sigh. I had just enough for the recipe and was able to store that in the fridge.

Then a quick shower, lunch of mac and fromage, and we were off to see Wicked at the Keller Auditorium. Wicked is the story of Oz happenings before Dorothy was blown in from Kansas, centering on two girls who become the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch. The women had incredible storylines, fantastic songs, snappy lines, and great costumes. I'd highly recommend seeing it if you have the chance. Critter enjoyed it, too, saying it was "almost better than Hairspray" which she attended with the Social Butterfly and myself.

After the show, we went to New Seasons Market and bought flavored brauts and garlic chicken for dinner. Once home, the baking began. If only I could find the parchment paper to line the cookie sheets.

I foraged up in the attic and found two rolls of it. Unfortunately, they were in two more boxes that were destined for the kitchen. Sigh. We thought we had unboxed everything when I brought the eight other boxes down in August.

And no sign of The Book, either.

At the end of the evening the whole house smelled of molasses. And a bit of peanut butter (which used up the last of the shortening!).

Sunday morning we baked the last of the cookies and headed off to the Scrap Maven's house for a day of scrap booking. I brought cookies and a borrowed laptop. CrafterKat had the remainder of our Disneyland photos to paste. Huggy Girl brought her daughter and many cute "nekked baby" photos. The day was spent in scrapbooking and cookie bliss. With a few dashes of garlic and rosemary brauts on the side.

And after a week I still have not found The Book...

A Klamath Anniversary

Editor's Note: Part 4 of Wrapping Up Summer.

I asked Critter if she had any homework last week. She shook her head. "Not even a Summer Vacation story you had to write?"

"Well, I had to make a Vacation Web..." For those who don't have kids in school, this is the introduction kids have to making an outline. Think of a spiderweb, with the subject in the middle and everything else spiraling off of it.

"What did you include?"

"I just put me in the big circle and then Horse Camp 1, Horse Camp 2, Horse Camp 3..."

"You didn't include Seattle? Kahneeta? Klamath Falls?" She shook her head again. I guess a weekend with extended family doesn't compare with horses. It would have been in my Web.

In my mind, the best part of extended family gatherings are the stories that are told. Many stories we have heard time and again. Others are new and find their way into our daily vernacular. In July, over CrafterKat’s birthday weekend, the four of us (including Critter's friend) trekked down to Klamath Falls to celebrate the sixtieth wedding anniversary of her aunt and uncle. Their sons flew in from Arizona and Vermont; other relatives and friends drove in from Vancouver, Gold Beach, and Eugene.

Most family gatherings of this magnitude involve at least one game of Hearts around the dining room table. And food. Lots of food. And really good seafood from The Captain. Smoked salmon. Smoked tuna. Smoked cod…

And as you move between card games or the food or the outside croquet game, you hear stories. Lots of them.

Upon seeing cousin Desert Engineer for the first time, CrafterKat remarked: My goodness, you got old!
Desert Engineer’s brother walks up: You look…alive.

At the first game of Hearts played, I wrote down the names of each family member at the table on the score sheet: Chef Flip Flop, The Captain, Mr. GoGoGo…
Pig Dog: Write down ‘Pig Dog’ for me.
JewelGeek: What?
Pig Dog: Pig Dog. All men are pigs. All men are dogs. ‘Pig Dog.’
JewelGeek: Alriiiiight.

RenaissanceMan talking about his two boys: They’re always… “I’m bored (punch). I’m bored (punch). I’m bored (punch).”
Pig Dog: This is how I used to goad Desert Engineer. (gives a straight face and then grins). I used to be able to twitch just the bottom of my eyebrow which would send him into hysterics. I’m out of practice now.
RenaissanceMan: Jedi Racoon does this (raises both eyebrows up and down several times).

PigDog: The difference between New Yorkers and Vermontans is that New Yorkers have teeth.
CraftKat: You mean Vermontans have claws?
PigDog: No, I mean real teeth. Vermontans don’t have any. You’ll see them in the store or walking down the street, and their teeth will pop down, and they have to stop and put them back in…


Mama Doc: PigDog says Vermont is full of “Ag’in’ems.” That means they don’t know what’s happening with anything, but if you tell them about something you’re passionate about, they’re against it. Education? Too much money. Government? Corrupt.
PigDog: Dental care? Pass.
Mama Doc: That too!

Younger than DD (to DD): I may be old, but you’ll still be 10 years older than me!
The Captain: Yes, but there’s not a grey hair on her head. (pause) I make sure of that.
Younger Than DD : You?
DD: Oh yes, as soon as The Captain found out how expensive it was to have hair professionally colored…
The Captain: I decided that $8 box of color in the store didn’t look so bad anymore!
DD: And of course, I can’t reach it all, so he has to do it.
The Captain (nodding): Yup. Except, those gloves that they give you in the box are WAY too small…
Younger Than DD : I can’t believe you do DD’s hair…
Phoenix Photographer: Oh, yeah, Desert Engeineer was Chez Desert Engineer. He used to color my hair for years. (pause) He could wear those gloves, though.
Younger Than DD : Vancouver Railroader would never color my hair.
The Captain: So make an appointment at a hair salon, let him know how much it will cost, and let him decide.
Phoenix Photographer: Or we could go buy a box right now and Desert Engineer could do your hair.
Younger Than DD : I don’t know if I’m ready to part with the grey yet. My kids are still teenagers.

Chef Flip Flop: (sitting next to Mr. GoGoGo) Sigh.
Mr. GoGoGo: And what’s your story?
Chef Flip Flop: Oh, just taking a break from the Cousins.
Mr. GoGoGo: And what are they doing?
Chef Flip Flop: Talking. (pause) I don’t know what to say. They’re talking about the Mall and shopping. And I say, “Oh, uh, that sounds… fun…”
Mr. GoGoGo: You’re beginning to think you’re part of a different generation, aren’t you?
Chef Flip Flop: Yeah – certainly not with that younger crowd.
GoldenPoet: You’re not a city boy, either.
Chef Flip Flop: THAT’s for sure.

When we returned home even Critter's friend Annie May added her voice to our family storybook.

CrafterKat: PigDog was so funny with his Vermontisms.
JewelGeek: I loved it when he was talking about the dental care there.
CrafterKat: Yeah, counting teeth would have been like (pokes her tongue to one side of her mouth) ...One... (pokes her tongue to the other side)...Two... Wait, wait... (moves tongue back to the first spot)...One...
The girls spent the next five minutes counting their own teeth until conversation turned to our monthly cycles.
Critter: Can you imagine a guy having their period?
Annie May (in a small voice, imitating the poor opposite sex):...But what about my needs?

And so, we've adopted Counting Vermont Style and But what about my needs? into our family vernacular.

Postcards from Camp

Editors note: Part 3 of Wrapping Up Summer.

Last Spring CrafterKat researched several different overnight camps for Critter to attend. We had signed her up for a variety of day camps last year through the College of Arts and Crafts, the Zoo, and even a Harry Potter acting class. This year she told us she really wanted an overnight experience—it was easier to make friends if you were with them all day and all night. “So what kind of camp experience do you want to try?”

“Anything with horses,” she replied.

And so off she went to three different horse camps. Camp Westwind, located on Oregon’s coast, was a hit and rated a 4 out of 5 in one letter to Grandma. Camp Silver Creek—-which took place at Oregon’s 4H Center outside of Salem and not at all near Silver Creek Falls like we had originally thought—-was spent with horses. All day.

Admittedly I was a bit nervous dropping her off at this very secluded meadow with a dilapidated barn at one end. And the little cabins looked like they had seen more mosquitos than campers.



When we returned to pick up Critter, I handed her the camera so she could take photos of her last week. She snapped a memory of every horse but no campers. “We can go now.”

Critter rating: 3 out of 5

“But did you have fun?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. We went on lots of trail rides. And the last night we got to paint our horses.”

“Paint horses? Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

Camp Collins was her last camp of the summer, more of a let’s-turn-you-into-a-young-leader-with-strong-moral-values camp than a strict horse camp. We drove past several farms in Clackamas County up to a tree-loving sanctuary where we were met by dozens of eager high school students, all determined to make this the most fabulous camp imaginable for metro city kids. They’d all ask Critter if she was enrolled in the Quester camp; Critter would shrug her shoulders and give an unenthusiastic “dunno” or “yeah” answer.

“You are going to have an Awesome Time,” each would answer with trademark enthusiasm.

After the, shall we say, rustic buildings appointed at Camp Not Silver Creek, we were amazed at the well-developed eating halls, first aid cottage, swimming pool, and camp housing.

Including Hobbit Houses.

Critter’s bunk was located in Treetop Village, part of three girl cabins that were built on stilts and surrounded by evergreens.

When we returned a week later (at our appointed pick up time for campers R through Z!--we said this place was incredible), she stood waiting for us wearing a t-shirt signed by every camper around her. If you squint you can see her standing there in the photo for the Treetop Village above.

With a bit of prompting, she led us away from the other campers and showed us her bunk and some of the sights of the campground. We made our way down a few dirt trails to a suspension bridge with a small fort on the far side. "On the first day we did a Challenge Course and we had to cross through the trees on these little boards on the other side of the bridge. It was so scary--I didn't do it. And there's a rock wall you can climb to reach the fort. I didn't do that either--I'm not stupid!"

We hugged her, gathered her luggage, and asked, “Did you have a good time?”

“I cried last night. I sooo have to come back here next year.”

At this point a blonde in similarly signatured t-shirt piped in, “Now remember, you have to come back next year to Week 8! Promise!” And hugged Critter hard.

Cricket Cricket

We interupt the Wrapping Up Summer series with this funny exchange from Critter...

"So, yeah, at school today my friend comes up and says Ashton is looking all over for me. 'He says he wants to give you a hug. Should I tell him I found you?'" Critter pauses, hand on one hip, giving a bored, yet incredulous stare. "Cricket cricket. Cricket cricket."

CrafterKat and I burst into laughter at the universal sound of awkard silence suddenly voiced.

She continued, "Well, duh!"

My Favorite Summer Photo

Editor's Note: This is Part 2 of Wrapping Up Summer. To read Part 1, click here.

Early July we took a short vacation, past a glorious Mt. Hood, to Kahneeta in Eastern Oregon. It was an absolutely gorgeous weekend--blue skies for miles and famous Indian fry bread to eat. If you ever want to tempt a gall bladder attack, just eat more than three-quarters of an Indian fry bread. And don't forget the huckleberry jam over the top. Sooooo gooood...

Most of Saturday was spent hanging out in the Warm Springs heated swimming pool--along with two thousand strangers. CrafterKat's scrapbooking friend brought her two kids that weekend so Critter had some playmates. I was even able to squeeze in a massage. Heaven.

Saturday night we signed up for the traditional Salmon Bake. So much good food and lots of dancing. Everyone in the family participates, especially the youngsters.




















And then we were invited to participate and join the family dancers.

But this was my favorite dancer. And my favorite photo of the whole summer.