Category Archives: memories

Signs, signs, everywhere a sign

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Our family has a tradition we have enjoyed for years. Whenever we find a business or a sign which has one of our names, we will stop whatever we are doing and take a picture in front of that sign.

I’m not sure when we started it but I’m always on the lookout.

sc0174ed77All across the fruited plain, if I spot one of our names, I grab the camera and capture the moment. Yes, it has annoyed “certain” family members but that doesn’t stop me.

Join me on a trip through Memory Lane…

We took these pictures during a camping trip through Maine and Pennsylvania. We will never forget the time spent in our pop-up in Freeport and Bar Harbor, Maine.

When the Hubs and I returned to Maine for our 20 wedding anniversary, I just had to stop by this street sign!p1000059

During A-Day weekend, I stretched the rules a bit and had Ike stand by this sign since it was made just for him. For your information, yes, Isaac was really excited to do this-NOT!r-dayandafter210

And then, despite a broken foot, I prodded the Hubs to make a weird turn on a busy street just so I could hop out of the car and get this picture of my mom and I in front of this restaurant in New York!

Of course, I also couldn’t pass up this sign near Philadelphia when we went to see Nate and the Army/Navy game.dec2008011

This summer in Raleigh, Ike paused for a photo-op at his hip-hop store in Raleigh. Who would have thought that a freckle-faced, orange haired 12 year white kid could be so enterprising and multi-cultural?

p1080927p1090438And wow, how cool to see that Isaac has branched out and now has a store in downtown Wilmington! You’ve got to check out Isaac’s hats and suit selection! Stop in and see for yourself!

As we were returning back to our condo, despite a threatening thunderstorm, complete with dramatic bolts of lightning, I made Aaron stand by this sign.p1090474

And I guess we got our oldest OS on a good day because after miniature golfing at Carolina Beach, I was able to successfully coax this pose in front of THIS sign!

For days I had been begging for a picture and when he finally said yes, I leapt in the Equinox for joy! You gotta love it!p1090529

What are some of your family traditions? I’m always looking for new things to make memories and create family identity.

Earth, wind and fire

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I don’t want to deceive anyone and make you think that we are just one big happy family all the time. We fuss and argue, we agitate and frustrate. Try as we might, there are times, far too often, when we even get disappointed in one another and yell. Even on vacation. Apparently I have a certain look, my children know too well where my jaw tightens, my eyes bulge out, it’s quite lovely I’m told. Luckily there are no pictures which have captured such a moment. If there are, I will delete such photos immediately. You will only see this look in person, never on film!

To prove my point, I wanted to share a very W-H moment we had during our trip to the coast. It was a cool summer night on Carolina Beach. There is a long stretch of beach at Carolina Beach where you can camp or make fires. Put this on your list of things to do before you die. It’s really awesome. And it might just be a guy thing but my men like to burn things. So on this crisp July night, Nate, Aaron and Isaac create a mighty bonfire and the hubs and I join them. We gather around the aluminum fire pit that was placed in a hole dug in the sand. (Remember this part).

Ike grabs a reed he had pulled from the sandbar and fashions a skewer for marshmallows. Quite resourceful. Apparently Isaac unwittingly adds extra fiber to the marshmallow which I note upon biting into my gritty summer treat. Then Nathan adds additional sand in my mouth when he kicks up his heels walking past me, not on purpose but whatev. (This might have been a eye-bulging moment.) Thanks, Soldier/Son!


The hubs and I depart and the boys continue their time by the roaring fire. (Remember this part.)

Legend goes that the boys were putting out the fire on the beach, ready to retire for the evening. It’s around 11pm and Aaron says smugly, “I’m just gonna enjoy the hot sand while you guys work.”Aaron holds the flashlight while Nate and Ike pick things up.

It is about this time that Isaac pours sand over his brother’s foot. The sand near the fire was warm and good but the sand Ike dumped on Aaron’s foot had been directly on the coals. It was poker-hot. In Aaron’s vernacular, “insanely hot.” Ike wasn’t trying to hurt his brother but indeed he did, giving him a second degree burn on the top of his foot! While the hubs and I are chilling in the condo, Aaron is screaming on the beach, Nate is getting angry both at Isaac for doing it and Aaron for shrieking, and our 12 year-old, orange-haired, freckle-face Ike is numb. A precious moment? Hardly.

In the middle of the night, Aaron had trouble sleeping because of the pain. We helped him the best we could and in the morning, it was feeling somewhat better. If you ask nicely, Aaron will show you the singed foot hair.

Thankfully, though we were laughing about it by the evening. Aaron might have another scar to add to his collection. Ask him about the scar he obtained while running into a urinal, or hopping up a brick step to our house. He’s quite the conversation piece.

When all is said and done though, it is well with my soul. I still have three OS who when together, still say “I love you” to each other before bedtime. This includes if they are on the phone with friends. How many teenage boys do you know who interrupt a conversation with a buddy just to shout, “I love you” to their annoying kid brother? Yes, I am blessed beyond measure.

Woefully imperfect, etched memories are sometimes burned into our lives forever, pun intended. (This is a picture of our family on a ferry to Southport, days before the charming burning incident.)


I’d love to hear your vacation stories! Got a scar story? Tell me!

Sea glass is so lovely

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Taking a leisurely walk on the beach in the morning with the hubs, the ocean’s frothy waves roll onto my feet and I spot a little treasure. You don’t find too many intact seashells these days but you can still find wonders. Yesterday I began collecting something new…I now collect sea glass.

Sea glass is created when a piece of glass falls into the ocean. Stupid knuckleheads chuck beer and soda bottles into the ocean and the water and sand tumble and smooth the sharp edges. The result is pretty pieces of smooth, frosted glass in a variety of colors.
The more I searched for sea glass, the more I found!

Sometimes I’d find sea glass in a mass of shells and sand. I’d see slivers of shells made of tans and soft oranges and suddenly, a piece of sea glass in a minty green or a gentle turquoise would emerge. Or a beautiful piece of amber sea glass would peek in sand, the result of a wave. My heart skipped a beat when that would happen.


Later in the day, two of my OS joined me and soon we began a new collection…of shark’s teeth. And then I began another new collection, I began searching for shells to spell my name. I thought it would be impossible to find a “Y” and no sooner had I said that, when I gazed at a shell in my hand and realized that a “Y” was carved right on the shell! Talk about fun!


But sea glass and I have a few things in common. I confess that there are some jagged places in my past and plenty of broken pieces. Life has tumbled me about and I have been tossed by the waves of the world. As I reflect on my life, the good and the bad, the things I did to myself and others and the things that have happened to me, I have seen how the Lord has used those pieces formerly tossed aside to ultimately make something of worth. He has smoothed out the rough places, (ok, some of the rough places as I’m an ongoing project!) and the things I assumed were junk and created a person of greater value. Like sea glass, I have experienced a transformation. I am a new creation. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17


We have one more day to go before going home. I can’t wait to comb the sand for more sea glass to serve as a memory of what God can do for even a wretch like me.

The Sound of Music

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I have gotten used to the additional laundry and grocery expenses which result when my oldest OS is home from West Point. We will enjoy his company for three weeks and then he’ll be back to join the Long Gray Line.


In addition to Nate being home, my 89 year old grandma came for a visit. She wanted to see our family and my sister is going to have her third child (a long awaited GIRL!) in September. Grandma is a real kick in the pants and doesn’t let much get in her way. Not a bum knee, breast cancer, the loss of a child (my dad) or two husbands, she’s truly one of my besties. Naturally, I wanted to do something special with her but couldn’t figure out what would be fun and budget conscious. A tricky combination.

I pondered the possibilities and had an idea. It started when about a year and a half ago, my DH spent $250 on a Christmas gift for me. He was taking me to the theatre to see a play, The Spelling Bee. I
had been looking forward to this event as I am a word aficionado.

Only there was a big problem. The Spelling Bee was HORRIBLE! It was offensive, vulgar and shocking, an indulgent production completely wrong for family enjoyment. We were so appalled by the production, we left before intermission and raised Caine about it so much so that we were promised free tickets to a future show.

It’s hard to find a theatre production that is appropriate for a discerning family. I have perused the upcoming shows and not been impressed. We have outgrown Thomas the Tank Engine or the Sesame Street/Diego stuff and procrastinated about when we were going to redeem these tickets. I was determined to not waste $250. Every time I thought about The Spelling Bee, I became angry.

With our window of time dwindling, I contacted the Box Office and was offered tickets to The Sound of Music. We got the tickets and I wondered how in the world I was ever going to get my three OS, especially my Soldier/West Point cadet to actually want to see this production.

This is when God did something. First my husband accidentally booked my grandma to leave a day early. I was so disappointed because it meant that Grandma wouldn’t be able to go to the show and I had promised her. It was something she was really looking forward to but we couldn’t afford to change her plane ticket. POO!

Mark called the Box Office, told them they had an opportunity to save a marriage and to our delight, they agreed to allow us to trade the Sunday tickets for the Saturday night show instead. My sweetie dashed to pick up the tickets and y’all, they didn’t give him five tickets to the show…they gave him SIX! Mark was prepared to pay for the sixth ticket but they gave it to him FREE! Oh happy day!

We went out for dinner on Saturday night and arrived at the theatre. Grandma beamed as a passerby offered to take a family picture and when we entered the building, we discovered that our seats were perfect. Not on the front row where our necks would have been straining or too far for my VERY hearing impaired grandma to hear. We couldn’t have picked better seats if we had done it ourselves.


I can’t say Nathan loved the performance, nor can I say Isaac was enthralled but Aaron, our OS who’s been involved in drama for years now, appreciated the talent he observed on stage. It was really a wonderful show! For me, the highlight was hearing my grandma softly singing “Edelweiss” beside me. I had to hold back the tears. When will I ever get another chance for a moment like that? The Lord blessed me!

Who would have thought something so nasty could turn into something so lovely? The time we wasted at the first performance on a Sunday was more than compensated for on a treasured Saturday night.

Milestones and recognition

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pubertyWe usually think of milestones in our children when they are little.

They start to roll over and drink from a cup, say their first words.

Big whoop. (Said as a mom of kids that are over that!).

Those things are a big deal but our OS have experienced milestones of their own recently that I just have to share.

How ironic (that is, if I believed in irony) that each of my OS would cross a major threshold in their lives at practically the same time.

May I have your attention, please?

Ike became a seventh grader. Woo hoo!

Aaron became a sophomore.

Take that you annoying upper classmen!

And…cue the snare drums…

Nate became a recognized plebe. Crowd goes wild!

No longer are my boys at the bottom of their respective proverbial social heaps of life. (Was that an awkward sentence?) After all the travail and toil, when it seemed as if the day would never arrive, my OS are happy to be movin’ on up, just like the Jefferson’s, remember those guys???

This means that Ike is eager to try out for basketball and not have annoying eighth graders hogging up the good spots. As long as he keeps his grades up and his tongue in control, my orange-haired fella will be just fine.

For Aaron, being a sophomore means the leadership skills he has honed this past year that will serve him well and he is positioned to forge ahead in whatever way the Lord directs.

But neither of them went through the valley like Nate. Sure, it’s tough being a sixth grader. And no one would dispute that a 9th grader is pretty low on the high school totem pool.

But try being a plebe. Just a few days ago, Nate successfully completed his plebe year. To a large extent, I feel like I also completed my own plebe year as a mom. I need my own badge or pin for surviving! I was counting down the days when Nate would make this transition, he’s been more than ready!

As I reflect on this last year, oh, my soul, there were so many days when I just wanted to scoop my baby up and take him home.

R-Day+and+after+244How could he endure such treatment?
Why did they have to be so sassy and mean to MY child? He doesn’t have to put up with that! (insert the “that” of your choice, especially if you have a cadet at WP or are a USMA grad!)

And while I’m at it, why couldn’t the professors understand that my boy was overworked and needed a break? Or had a nasty cold?

Despite my numerous offers to contact the higher-ups and plead his case, Nate never budged. He could handle it.

(For the record, if any WP folks are reading this, I would honestly have never done that but I thought about it. Nate would have KILLED me! I would have been disowned as a mama!)

And my OS finished really well. Since I will get in trouble if I say too much, let me say Nate should be very proud of himself. Thanks be to God!

A Spirit Week Day we won't soon forget.

A Spirit Week Day we won’t soon forget.

P1070031On Thursday, Nate got recognized.

It was a day he has been talking about for weeks.

What does getting recognized mean?

Well, at West Point, when you have completed your plebe year, there is a special moment, almost divine in nature, when the upper class cadets, acknowledge your existence.

Instead of calling you “Cadet Last Name,” the cadets extend a hand of fellowship your way. They shake your hand and learn something very wonderful about you. They learn you have a FIRST name! That is a MAJOR event in the life of a plebe!

Imagine living in a confined place for nearly a year and not having someone call you by your first name. Or having to wear a uniform every.single.time.you.go.out.of.your.room.

And consider for a moment, not being able to talk once you leave the confines of your room.

But Nathan did and the transition from lowly plebe class to becoming a Private First Class is something so sweet. He strutted outside his room in cadet casual (khaki pants and shirt) and acknowledged people by their first name. He didn’t have to cup his hands or do any of those things that have been the bane of his existence for the last 11 months.

Plebes are people too!

Plebes are people too!

Liberation,

exhilaration,

jubilation sum up how he felt stepping out as a PFC.

Lest my awesome OS become too content, reality will come crashing down on him. Tomorrow he begins Air Assault School and rumor has it, it’s not a picnic.

If you are reading this, please pray for the cadets as they begin a grueling 11 day training school. Nate must pass this in order to come home June 6th.

If he doesn’t pass, (and apparently many will not), he will automatically be re-enrolled and spend another 11 days there until he passes.

The VCR project

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On the Honey-Do list I placed a humdinger of a project for my husband. Convert all of our old VCR tapes to DVDs. Sounds easy, right? HA! I get these crazy ideas and lately I’ve been on a mission. As I am cleaning out closets and purging the unnecessary, I have uncovered boxes and boxes and boxes of VCRs. They have littered our drawers and now it’s time to do something about it. “NOW!” she cheerfully bellows to her doting DH.  Double HA!

We ordered a VCR/DVD converter and after many attempts, my good man has figured it out. In order to preserve our marriage, I told him I wanted nothing to do with this project and have deferred to his good judgment, (most of the time). He has risen to the task and will hopefully be finished sometime before the DVD becomes extinct and I’ve given him yet another gargantuan chore. 

Completing this job, is not easy to do partially because we made it more complicated thanks to our very stupid video techniques.

I shall now confess… 

I mistook the on and off button and captured hours and hours of nothing. Example – when my brother got married, I lugged the clunky camera to the reception wanting to capture special moments of the happy occasion. Apparently I forgot to turn off the camera. I set the camera down on a chair still in “record” mode and now we have about 45 minutes of compelling close up footage of the upholstery. In addition to hearing all the background sounds of the wedding reception, you can hear the whirl of the video camera as it attempts to try to figure out what in the world it’s supposed to be taping! 
In addition, we didn’t label most of the VCR tapes. If you like a bit of mystery, this is the way to go. You will never, ever know what you’re looking at and that keeps things really exciting! 

And if we labeled a tape, one of us knuckleheads advanced the tape about 30 minutes and then taped new material from oh, say, 5-7 years later. In other words, everything jumps around. You are in a very funky time warp.

As crazy as this process has been, I am relieved to be retrieving old memories.  I’m laughing one minute watching my babies and tingle inside at the sight of their soft faces. Then I hear their squeaky voices and I want to cry. Although I desperately love my big boys now, I could burst into tears at this very minute as I wistfully recall those times. 

The little boy who was  is almost finished with his plebe year at West Point was a toe-headed leader almost from the start. Last weekend, this same child successfully completed an 18 mile ruck and earned a German Armed Forces Badge for Military Proficiency to don on his uniform.


The chunky toddler with a husky voice, is a tender-hearted musician /thespian/athlete. We have footage of him fake karate-chopping his baby brother as he swings innocently in the baby chair. Aaron remains my expressive boy but there’s muscle, arm pit hair, a young man is emerging.

And then there’s my Orange Love (Ike). In one movie, my youngest OS is sucking on his paci and I’m lugging him around on my hip. He can’t say a word but you still knew that Ike needed/demanded/expected something. Oh my, if I could just reach right into the television screen and squeeze him again – 

Dozens and dozens of tapes and memories await. I’m going forward but looking behind, it’s a bittersweet journey. 

Floods

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Like all good daughters, I have subscribed a number of MY personal issues onto my mother. Because of my mom, I (fill in the blank)______________. Many of you probably can relate and would admit that the mother/daughter relationship thing can be hard and complicated. Maybe that’s why the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, choose to bless me with three sons! To demonstrate, here is but a small list of the things I have blamed my mother for in the past:


I lack athletic prowess because my mom didn’t stress the value of sports.
I don’t know how to swim because my mom never took me for swimming lessons as a small child.
I am bad with money because my mom didn’t teach me the value of a dollar.

And the list goes on and on…I will stop there as to not further embarrass myself. 

But yesterday, I found myself humbled and blessed. Something that has long been on my “list” needs to be removed.

For decades now I have told people that there are not a lot of photos of me when I was a child. If you and I were in a random conversation and you happened to mention something about pictures of yourself as a kid, I would probably have sighed heavily and told you of my picture woes. (Strum sappy violin music). When I was a girl growing up in Wheaton, Illinois, we had a flood in our basement and it destroyed, among other things, boxes and boxes of pictures. I recall the soggy, blobby paper mess and the dismay I felt in my young girl’s heart as I saw my memories destroyed. Who was to blame for the flood? Well, it honestly didn’t matter, I knew the culprit. I suspect you can guess my prime suspect. Yes, it was my mom. 

This week, following a meeting with my favorite organization consultant, I began the necessary and tedious task of de-cluttering my home. In various closets, possibly in every room there is a box or basket full of pictures. This week I have begun to weed through them, tossing out the bad photos, hanging on to the good ones. Geralin has a theory about pictures which I now claim as my own. She says, “if I don’t look good in the picture, then it goes.” Geralin’s my girl, one of my fab five, as my youngest OS would jest.

I am amazed at the scads of pictures we have EVERYWHERE! The stockpiles of pictures blurred my head as I tossed one photo after another into the trash. It has been freeing to re-claim lost closet space and re-discover sweet pictures of days gone by.

And last night, I believe the Lord healed a part of me because in the frenzied mass of photos, I am finding a lot of pictures of myself. There are many of me as a little girl on random Picture Days, a couple of me walking up the sidewalk for my first day of kindergarten, a few particularly unflattering pics of me blowing out candles on a birthday cake as a pimply teen, you get the idea. 

Oh, dear friends, I have found me. 


My past was not completely destroyed in that basement. There were salvages of my life still preserved, in greater proportion than I ever realized.

And so in the tv room, after everyone was in bed, I held picture after picture of myself in my hands and drifted back to those moments. They are not gone. They are preserved both in these pictures but also within me. Sorting through all the clutter and getting rid of the unnecessary, buried among it all, was Cindy. She hadn’t dissolved away into nothingness. As I make room in my home, I am finding new places in my spirit as well.

I’m learning that I can no longer blame my mom for a lot of things I have done in the past. Honestly, I have been aware of that for about 12 years now since asking Jesus into my heart and looking squarely at my own contrition and culpability. But how immature I have been to blame an act of God like a flood on my poor mother. I mean really. For goodness sake, she had no control over it no matter how much power I think a mama can wield. 

I hesitate for a moment and wonder to myself. Actually, a jab of anxiety wafts over me…what will my OS blame me for? What will be something that they say I should have done differently? Will we just laugh about it or will I carry around grief and guilt. Ew. What salvages of their own shortcomings will they try and attribute to me, their mom who, like my own, is trying the very best she can to make a sweet and wonderful life for them?


That is not something that I can answer. Today I’d rather focus on what I can claim victory over. I found me. I, or rather, remnants of me, weren’t swept away in an unpredictable flood.  And if all the pictures were gone, I now admit it wouldn’t have been my mom’s fault in the first place. 

When we went out for a late-night run to the grocery store to buy dish washing detergent, (doesn’t that sound like a fun outing!?), I decided to release this guilt from her once and for all. She has been staying at my house recovering from surgery on her wrist and a bout of pneumonia. The healing process has been painful and discouraging but last night, I believe both of us got healed in a way we weren’t expecting. We got in the car and I couldn’t wait to tell her my revelation. It wasn’t a gushy moment but I felt a weight off my heart and I noticed she had a look of contentment on her face and it wasn’t because we were going to buy dish washing detergent at 10pm! 
 

Guilt and blame, in all of its forms, are as destructive as a flood. Forgiveness and grace, on the other hand, fellow imperfect mamas of the world, well that can wash over a multitude of sins. 

Hallelujah, grace like rain, washing down on me…


Hmmm…

Angels Unaware

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p1040172When my OS began his exploration into attending West Point, so did I.

We were about to embark on an exciting journey and I had no clue what he was getting himself and the entire family into!

I was so clueless about West Point, the United States Military Academy, I had to google search west+point.

Where is West Point anyway?

That’s when I found it is far away. Far away as in New York. Far away as in a 10 hour drive, but about 15 hour of driving time if I’m in the car accounting for potty breaks and not including an overnight stay at a nice hotel. Yes, I am ever so slightly high maintenance.

It just so happened the Lord had placed in our lives a great couple, Gigi and Eric. Eric is a professor at West Point and we met here when he was in our state completing his doctorate degree and attending our church and Sunday School class. When the family left for a two year class assignment to Korea, we thought we would never see them ever again, this side of heaven.

But that was not the Lord’s will and soon, they will return to West Point. We will re-connect with them! When our son was accepted at West Point, Eric called us all the way from Korea and lovingly, honestly explained what R-Day was going to be like for us as parents.

In a word – HARD!

After speaking with him on the phone, I literally collapsed on my carpet, unsure of how I was going to handle parting with my treasured boy. And not only saying goodbye but doing it in under two minutes.

99068-photo250Enjoy this picture I took thanks to my Mac Photo Booth aptly conveying my sentiments last year.Very attractive, huh?

Since then we have pressed on. And we have been blessed. We have met amazing people who have extended themselves in ways I never expected. I see how the Lord’s hand has linked us up with caring families who have been there for us and our OS.

For example, Peggie, a West Point mom whom I never met when I called her because we have a mutual acquaintance. Peggie allowed me to cry on her proverbial shoulder. I barely got one sentence out of my mouth, before the Lacrimal Glands got activated. She was such an encouragement and she listened like a mama who’s been there, done that. And she still spoke in full sentences which gave me hope that I could actually live through this experience with some semblance of sanity.

aa0c5-p1070259Then there have been the Hoffman’s who take Nate out regularly when they visit their plebe at West Point. Patti gives our OS an obligatory hug from me and has loved my boy as if he were her own. This family knows no bounds of kindness. Such a beautiful lady who even did an eyebrow trim for my husband when we were all together at Plebe Parent Weekend! I love these people! How many of your girlfriends can you ask to trim your husband’s eyebrows??? Those friends are few and far between!

p1070333Merrily is a gem too. Although recently faced with the loss of her husband, she is a resilient mama of a very fine plebe. That lady is someone that from the minute she called me on the phone one day after communicating via her husband’s blog, I felt an instant connection to and we ended our first conversation saying, “I love you” and meaning it. 

 

And then there’s Kim. Kim works at West Point and she’s a grad. Very huah but in no way obnoxious. Kim understands what it’s like to be a cadet and she’s a mother which is a perfect combination. 

When Nate’s birthday rolled around on April 12th, Kim dropped off in our son’s room, a bouquet of balloons, a big birthday card and an ice cream party certificate. She has offered to take my OS out for pizza, invited him to an Easter dinner, truly extended herself in ways I could have never imagined. And we have only met once when she recognized me at A-Day. I had a broken foot and a scooter, so I was an easy target and she has been reading my blog for a while. I felt so fancy when she came up and introduced herself! Since then, we have kept in touch and when I have offered to reimburse Kim for her generosity, she quickly rebuffs my offer, saying she does these things gladly and free of charge. Oh, how I am blessed!

 
I am reminded of the Scripture found in Hebrews 13:2 “Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.” 
 
I reflect on this journey thus far and sometimes can’t believe how fast my son’s plebe year has passed! I praise the Lord because we have survived, occasionally even thrived. We have all learned things about ourselves, our strength, the importance of faith and prayer and developing an extended sense of family. 

 
Y’all, I am meeting angels. Not the fluttering kind with halos and wings but still divine messengers of God who have lighted this path with compassion. I hope you have been meeting some along your way as well, wherever it may be…

My son’s new girlfriend – March 2009 NOT May 2013

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For those of you who know my son, I’m sure this blog post will elicit a lot of interest. Nathan has a girlfriend? Who is this lucky lady??? Inquiring minds want to know!

Well before I introduce her to you, let me tell you how we first met. We had a tour of the barracks during PPW and Nate showed us his room.

He and his two roommates takw pride in the cleanliness of their room. Sparsely decorated unlike a traditional college dorm room, there are no empty beer bottles, posters and personal items filling the cramped quarters.

Nate has a picture frame collage we gave him during Beast that has an assortment of pictures of family and friends and that’s the only way you’d know it was his space.

So comfy, cozy, NOT

Overlooking Nate’s desk is a scenic view of Legion Square.

While doing homework, he sees others cadets walking to and from class and other daily activities.

He also witnesses crazy cadet antics which adds levity to the pressure-packed environment.

Water bottles jettison between the barracks. Milk cartons become white, liquid missiles catapulting in the late winter night. Fruit-flavored yogurts are hurled with wild abandon.

Sounds like fun!

But in the midst of all this bravado and hi jinks, Nate can sometimes be seen snuggling with his special girl.

What??

How can a cadet, let alone a lowly plebe hang out and snuggle with a girlfriend?

Well, it’s easy when your girlfriend is a blanket.

Nate’s gf is a Green Girl which is a West Point term for the green blanket covering every cadet’s bed.

She is the best girlfriend my OS can have right now.

She is always there when he needs her.

She’s affectionate but not overbearing.

She is low-maintenance and never jealous.

Based on this picture, I think it’s a long-term relationship.

When I met Green Girl, I liked her right away and that’s saying a lot as a mom of three sons.

I was expecting to have mixed feelings when I met my son’s special lady but I didn’t. I think this is a sign of my maturation. I knew the day was coming when Nate would have a girlfriend and I must say, I’m doing quite well.

Don’t you think they make a cute couple! We love you Green Girl, welcome to the family!

Next blog post…Smiles…learn an exciting folding technique that will surely revolutionize your life!

Angel food cake fun (recipe included)

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p1060931Thanks to a pregnant sister who has some pretty serious food cravings these days, I made two killer birthday cakes, one for my husband, one for my mom. I have a reputation in my family for cheesecake. I don’t know what I do but my mom says that nobody can do cheesecake like me.

But for these March birthdays, Denise suggested angel food cake.

Last year I made an angel food cake and she didn’t forget how good it was. I learned a valuable lesson during my first angel food cake experience that I thought I’d share.

When you take the angel food cake out of the oven to cool, don’t, I repeat, don’t, suspend the angel food cake from a soda bottle. Trust me on this. If you do not heed my staunch warning, oh you’ll see that your beautiful angel food cake will fall in fluffy, white clumps onto your marble kitchen island. And that, my friends, is not pretty and quite shameful.

p1060928Last year, I scooped up the pieces of my destroyed dessert, placed them in a glass bowl and redeemed the whole thing with homemade whipping cream and strawberries.

I then sprinkled powdered sugar over each serving and the entire crowd was utterly silent devouring every last morsel of the crest-fallen creation.

You could have heard a pin drop last year. When no one is talking during a meal or a dessert, that’s when you know you done good.

p1060939This time, I wanted to achieve the same delicious flavor minus the flop.

Isaac was my trusty sous-chef and we made two, count em, two angel food cakes.

At first, it seemed we were going to have another problem. As Ike whipped the egg whites and such together on the first cake, nothing poofed up.

I ran upstairs and began googling “angel food cake problems” and that tasty guy kept at it. I was certain we were going to have to start all over again but to my amazement, Ike’s perseverance paid off.

My sweet OS had faithfully swirled the mixer around for almost 10 minutes, I’m not kidding, until the egg whites, cream of tartar, etc., decided to do their thing. I was thrilled!

p1060960Ike and I beheld our desserts and beamed with pride. They were purty, y’all.

As our family streamed into our house for dinner, I couldn’t wait to show them our angel food cakes.

My mom was definitely impressed to learn that 12 year old Ike was instrumental in the success of these tasty delights. Ike is going to be one fine catch some day! Ladies, watch out!

I placed the cakes on the table along with the beautiful roses I had purchased at Sam’s Club. We sang “Happy Birthday” and cut into the sticky, spongy white cake. Then I decorated each piece with fresh strawberries, blackberries and blueberries, a dollop of whipped cream and my signature dusting of powdered sugar.  I recall moments of silence and requests for another helping and Ike and I were satisfied in every way.

p1060976So you want the recipe? Here it is…

ANGEL FOOD CAKE

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1 cup cake flour (make sure it’s cake flour)
1 1/2 cups large egg whites (about 12) best if the eggs are room temperature
1 1/2 t. cream of tartar
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 t. vanilla
1 1/2 t. almond extract
1/4 t. salt

Move oven rack to lowest position. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Mix sugar and flour, set aside.

Beat egg whites and cream of tartar in large bowl with electric mixer on medium speed until foamy.

Beat in granulated sugar, two tablespoons at a time, on high speed, adding vanilla, almond extract and salt with the last addition of sugar.

Continue beating until stiff and glossy meringue forms. Do not underbeat.

Sprinkle sugar-flour mixture, 1/4 cup at a time, over meringue, folding in just until sugar-flour disappears. Push batter into angel food cake pan. Cut gentle through the batter with metal spatula.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until cracks feel dry and top springs back when touched lightly.

Immediately turn pan upside down onto a baking rack. Let hang about two hours or until cake is completely cool. Loosen side of cake with knife or long, metal spatula, remove from pan.

Enjoy!