Family, Fourth, Food, and Farm

Brian's family has a reunion each year on the 4th of July, so we packed up the girls and headed for the farm. We grew the reunion this year with the addition of Jane, who amazed me with her good-natured attitude toward an outdoor event with bugs and humidity. She smiled at all the new faces and loved being held by new people. Three and a half months old is still an age that can be difficult to handle away from home. She was a real trooper.

Meanwhile, Helen and Alice ran themselves into the ground for 2 straight days. They play outside regularly at home, but they don't have access to dozens of acres or half a dozen cousins. I've got to remember to build up their stamina for next year.

Here's one picture of Helen I managed to get as she flew past with a very popular toy, a water pistol:

The first day, around 3:30 in the afternoon (4 hours past normal nap start time), Alice was walking around the tables while the family played Bingo, and she had a little bottle with a rock inside it that she was using as a homemade rattle. She was shaking it to her heart's content as she walked around and grinned at everyone. Eventually, she went to her Nana and asked to be held. And that is where, approximately 13 seconds later, she passed out cold.

Helen and Alice both slept like rocks that night. Neither of them made a peep about sleeping in a new spot - it just needed to be a horizontal spot, and they were soon snoring away. They also slept super late the next day.

The girls ran nonstop the entire second day. There wasn't even an accidental nap when either one of them sat down too long. Do the math on the tipping point, and you have kids who probably won't be in the best mood by the time the fireworks are ready to launch.

What I hadn't counted on was Jane's reaction to the fireworks. I should have remembered that Brian & his brother would make the fireworks show pretty loud. She had dozed off, and awoke with a start at the first mortar shell. From that point on, each firework that exploded made her squirm and cry. So I took her inside the house during all of the oohs and ahhs.

Once the girls hit the house for bedtime, they wanted to stay up. Heck no, says I. It's bedtime. Less than a minute later, there wasn't any protesting. And they slept even later the next morning.

I'm guessing when they're older and not needing naps, this reunion may be less exhausting for them. When we got home from the farm, they both took 4 hour naps. Mine was only 3 hours.

Two videos from the farm to share with you all!

1. Helen shows off a new skill while the family plays croquet. Be sure to listen for her to give her pre-judged and completely unsolicited opinion on the video at the end.

2. Alice says hello to all the cows. I'll go ahead and translate: "Hay-yo, Neigh!" Like Helen, she calls all animals by the sound they make, rather than their names. Unlike Helen, that's what she thinks a cow says, instead of "Moo" - they're all "Neighs." Yes, like a horse. Go ahead, mock away. I'm sure all of your parents suspected you were a little confused at some point during your childhood, too.

Alice is One

Alice's first birthday came with a little bit of excitement.

I was sick as a dog on her birthday.  I came home from work early the day before, with a horrible stomach bug, and spent the evening trying not to see, smell or even think about food.  The next day, I slept and tried to figure out how to make cupcakes without getting ill.

Somehow, that afternoon, Mom Adrenaline kicked in.  My girl had to have her birthday cupcakes, and I was not going to cave and buy those sickly-sweet store-bought versions.  So I mixed and stirred and baked and gagged over the aroma of freshly baked cupcakes, and frosted them with possibly the best frosting I've ever made.   I couldn't even taste it, but I'm pretty sure that frosting kicked butt.  (Tip:  Hershey's cocoa has a frosting recipe on the back.  Use it, people.  You'll never buy frosting in a can again.)

Coincidentally, we had spaghetti for dinner.  Alice wore hers, mostly.  So that meant we had the first giant cleanup of the evening, before I could take pictures of her eating her cake.  It meant cleaning spaghetti off the high chair, the floor, and her head.   Then I stripped her down to a diaper, and got her cupcake ready to go.  

Not exactly the reaction I expected after all the effort I put into making those gag monsters.

Eventually, she did appreciate it.  I think the frosting changed her mind.

And of course, then we had cleanup #2.  I carried her straight up to the tub to get frosting and cake out of every nook & cranny, and later cleaned her high chair.  Again.  But it was totally worth all the queasiness to see her that happy.

I can't believe it's been a year since we brought her into the world.  What an amazing little girl she is.  Happy Birthday, sweet pea!

You All Have Been Warned

Hung by the chimney with care

Do you have a personalized Christmas stocking?  Have you used the same one since the year you were born?

My entire life, each and every Christmas, my parents, my sister and I have had the same red velvet stockings, topped with white satin cuffs with our names in felt letters.  My grandmother made all of the stockings for us.  After her children grew up and got married, she made stockings for the spouses, and then their kids.  It made Christmas feel pretty special, to have matching stockings like that.  But I never really thought about what went into them until I got married.  At that point, Brian would have looked like the odd man out without a matching stocking on Christmas morning.  

I should have known Grandma had it all in hand.  I married Brian in mid-December, and she made sure he had a personalized stocking for Christmas.  It even has an orange T for his Tennessee degree, which must have been difficult for anyone from Oklahoma to attach on purpose.  Orange Ts aren't very popular in that state!  But she made sure he had something he loved and made him feel welcome in our family.

My grandfather had several brothers and sisters, and she spent some time in the 1950's making stockings for all of them, as well as her own family.  Keeping up with her own kids was plenty of work, let alone all her nieces and nephews.  Then her grandkids got married, and eventually my aunt and cousin joined in to help with the baby boom of great-grandkids.  Although my grandmother didn't get to meet the 2nd round of great-grandkids, she had cut out a bunch of extra stockings and cuffs that my aunt used to prepare the latest additions to the family for Christmas morning.

Here's a picture I took of Helen when her stocking arrived in 2005:

and here's a picture I took this evening with Alice and her new stocking: 

Christmas Wishes

Last month Brian & I talked about our Christmas lists, and Brian asked Helen what she wanted for Christmas. I have to hand it to her, that girl was prepared for this question. To this day, someone will ask me what I want for Christmas, and everything I would love to have flies right out of my head. I end up asking for kitchen stuff, bless my heart. But kids? They are pageant contestants, in a 24/7 prep course for the interview portion of the evening. Lists for Santa are on the tip of their tongue. I bet they schedule rehearsals during recess.

Anyway, Helen pipes up, "I want a tree with eyeballs." Brian & I looked at each other, then he dutifully wrote it down. I was completely mystified. What in the heck? A tree? With eyeballs? I pictured some animated talking Christmas tree on television that she had seen, or maybe one of those singing Christmas trees that you see in stores. I couldn't for the life of me remember seeing that anywhere with her, but perhaps she had seen one at school.

Over the next few weeks, occasionally we'd ask about what she wanted for Christmas, and to her credit, she has remained steadfastly loyal to the original list. Always, she said, "a tree with eyeballs." So last week, we sat down at dinner and tried to figure out exactly what the heck she was asking us to buy.

I asked Helen if she could draw a picture of the Christmas tree with eyeballs, or if she could point one out to me the next time she saw one, because Santa didn't know what a Christmas tree with eyeballs looked like. She corrected me quickly. "No, Mommy, not a Christmas tree - a TREE with eyeballs." Okay, my mistake. It's Christmas time. Sue me for thinking a tree mentioned at this time of year - especially this time of year - would be a Christmas tree. I said, "Okay, a tree with eyeballs. Can you tell me where you saw one?" She thought for a minute, and replied, "You know, like at Uncle John and Auntie Tine's house?"

Suddenly, the ceiling opened up and the light shone in and angels sang "AH-HA!" in one voice, like that perfect harmony you always hope for in choir practice but only manage to achieve by yourself in the shower.

We had visited Uncle John and Auntie Tine right after Halloween, when they still had all of their decorations up. Uncle John is one of those people in your neighborhood who loves Halloween a little bit too much. You know - with the gravestones on the front lawn, and the house covered with cobwebs, and a fog machine. This year's decorations included a guy in the front window with a hockey mask & a chainsaw, and "KEEP OUT" written on the window in red paint. He also has a scary head on the front porch, which can "talk" courtesy of a speaker and a microphone. John stands at the mailbox, chatting up the parents. He learns the kids' names, then pulls out the microphone. When they approach the door, the scary head "talks" to them, using their names.

There are kids who avoid their house like the plague every year. Even the bravest ones (and some approaching their teenage years) won't go on the porch. Those who screw up the courage to ring the doorbell are then greeted by this scary talking head WHO KNOWS THEIR NAME.

Yeah, John is that guy. What he spends on decorations, he saves on candy. He also gets a good workout, what with all the doubled over laughing he does at these kids, running in terror from his front porch.

The next day, I emailed them to find out if they could shed a little bit of light on the mysterious "tree with eyeballs" for me. And after they picked themselves up off the floor from laughing so hard, I learned exactly what Helen was talking about.

We had arrived at their house in the afternoon, and Helen was a little bit cautious approaching the front door. Nothing was turned on yet, since it was still daylight. But the head was a little scary, and she told me so. I kept saying, "Oh, that's silly!" until we got inside. She was wearing her own Halloween costume, so we focused on "trick or treat!" and made it in the door with no problems. I was playing with the baby and visiting with friends, so I didn't know that later that evening, she went outside with Auntie Tine and her cousin to see the whole show at night. At first, she was a little frightened of the tree with eyeballs, but her cousin loved it so much, she realized there was no way that it could be scary. So folks, I present to you Helen's #1 Christmas wish: a Halloween decoration. By the way, it's not a tree - it's the bush behind the tree.

God bless us, every one.

Update:

Today, when I picked up Helen from daycare, I found this picture in her folder. I'm sure her teachers would love to know the story, too!

That's Spooky

So we had a little holiday this past weekend that most kids tend to enjoy.  Helen is no exception.  Her daycare teacher is the biggest fan of Halloween so Helen has come home every day with one spooky art project after another.  Or a Halloween song.  Fortunately, nothing from Rocky Horror Picture Show.

So, here are the obligatory costume pics.  Helen was a beautiful Snow White.  Her costume has little sparkly red gems on it.  She loves to wear it, like, ALL THE TIME.  I found a good hiding place for it the week before Halloween, just so she wouldn't sleep in it.

Alice recycled a costume from Helen's first Halloween, what I like to call the Pink Bunny Costume from "A Christmas Story."

This looks says, "No! No! I want an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!"

And what do we say, folks?  All together now:  "You'll shoot your eye out, kid."

We Have a Winner

Brian's company provides rewards for meeting certain sales goals, and this fall they were offering a long weekend for both of us at an all-inclusive resort in the Dominican Republic.  In June, Brian had done the math after having an exceptional couple of weeks, and he was already halfway there.  He really wanted to go on this trip, and he vowed to make it happen for us.

At the time, I was pregnant.  I thought, hey, we'll have a very little baby then!  Won't that be a problem?  Brian assured me that the company would let us take a baby if I was nursing.  I knew Brian would work very hard to get there, but my thought was, let's worry about that when he meets the goal.

Brian kept selling all summer.  He was racking up the deals.  I was thrilled for him but waited to make any plans.

And then I went through labor and delivery and maternity leave, which was sort of distracting.  Just as I headed back to work, Brian hit the last week of the program and learned he had qualified.  We had a trip to the Dominican to book on the 4th weekend of October.

So, now it was time to worry about what to do.  I knew Helen would have a ball with her grandparents, but I went back and forth on what to do with Alice.  Four whole days away from an 11-week old baby is rough on both mom and baby.  I could take my breast pump with me, and Alice is used to getting bottles at daycare, but the connection is not the same.  She recognizes my voice now, and god, that smile!  She really is a happy baby, and I would just miss her.  I didn't want to ruin the progress we were making together, and I couldn't imagine leaving her behind.

And then I thought, Dominican Republic.  I don't know if you are catching the news on this place lately, but it's in a bit of political unrest right now, and that's putting it mildly.  Also, the middle of the Carribbean at the end of hurricane season could be dangerous.  On top of that, they tell you not to drink the water.  And it's hot and humid and there's sand everywhere.  So maybe not the best place to bring a new infant.  

So, in the end, I told Brian to book it for just the two of us, and we made plans for Helen and Alice to stay with her grandparents.  I spent weeks pumping and freezing extra milk for the baby.  And then the day finally came - we got up at the crack of dawn last Friday, drove to the airport in the pouring rain, boarded a plane and headed due south.

Of course, it was an incredible trip.  We never left the resort to do any sightseeing around town, but instead spent the entire time relaxing, sleeping, and enjoying the beautiful beach.  Oh, and eating and drinking.  The food was fantastic, and the drinks were amazing.  

Coming back home, we discovered the temperatures hit freezing.  Helen had so much fun with her grandparents, now she actually cries at night and tells me how much she misses them.  And the baby didn't seem any worse for the absence.   Alice spent her time hitting them up for more bottles, and when I took her to daycare, they mentioned she suddenly wanted to be held all the time.

Hmm.  I wonder why.

Below are some pictures of the resort.   Just plain awesome doesn't begin to describe it.

Our rooms were surrounded by gorgeous lush Carribbean landscaping - lots of flowers and palm trees everywhere.

Of course, the beach was a big favorite.  The sun was a bit strong, so I stayed under those huts all weekend.  It was either that or look for SPF 480.  
They had these beds by the pool area for lounging and snoozing. 
And here's the pool area.  Not too shabby.
Wait, how'd that get in there?!  That is a Mai Tai of extraordinary goodness.  In fact, they were so delicious, I ordered two at a time.

And there is Brian's favorite, the Bloody Mary.  Secret ingredient:  soy sauce. 

All in all, it was a fantastic four days.  Very relaxing to get a bunch of hours of sleep in a row and have a little bit of peaceful quiet and ocean waves to enjoy.  I'd recommend the place to anyone looking for a nice vacation spot, and I wouldn't mind going back there again.  

But it sure was nice to hug the girls when we got home.

You know, I am Wonder Woman

Some of you may know that I started working at a new company last summer.  Among the many perks of working here is an annual theme party held each Halloween.  They encourage everyone to dress in costume for an afternoon parade, and there's a panel of judges, and prizes for the winners.

Essentially I've died and woken up with a job in heaven. 

After we got the memo with all the details about the parade, I spent about 30 seconds trying to figure out what I could be for Halloween.  It hit me like a bolt of lightning - I could finally dress up as the one character that I have wanted to be since I was 4 years old and severely addicted to Lynda Carter's lousy acting skills on what passed for action shows on television in the 1970's.  I could finally spin around in a circle 5 or 6 times, and I could BE Wonder Woman.

The thought was just too delicious.

There's a great costume shop in town that I stopped by to ask about a rental, but they said they don't have any for rent.  Something about licensing?  They did have one for sale by Marvel, and it was not the best thing I'd seen.  So I spent the next week searching the internet for a suitable costume to buy.  There are people on eBay who will make one for you for several hundred dollars.  Some of them are even pretty good.  There are a few knock-offs costumes that I immediately dismissed.  I also could have cobbled some things together with a few key props, and it might have passed for decent.

As I searched, I could feel myself settling for the easy way out, but the lure of the fame and the prize money was just too strong.   So I kept searching.  And that's when I found The Wonder Woman Museum.

There is a man somewhere who loves Wonder Woman too, possibly a bit more than me, and you can make whatever you want of that.  But this man spent a couple of years creating an exact replica of Lynda Carter's costume from Season 1, and meticulously pictured each step along the way.  All of his research, all of the fabric and stitching and stars and gold leather - it's all there in stunning detail.

As I scrolled down the page in awe of this man and what kind of life he must have to spend it on such a fun project, I saw a picture of a pattern he had made for the cape.  It was all sectioned out in red, white and blue, and taken from a few angles to show the pattern and the finished project.   And that's when it hit me.

I could totally make this costume myself.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I don't have any skills in the sewing arena.  I've never made anything more complicated than a hem in my whole life.  And when I have hemmed something, you can really tell I did it.  Know what I'm sayin'?

But with that pattern, and all those close-up pictures of the outfit - well, I knew exactly who could help me.  And within about 3 minutes, I was dialing her to spill out the whole crazy thing.

I was 35 years old.  And I was calling my mom to help me make my Halloween costume.  

To her credit, she didn't even hesitate to say yes.  I sent her the link to the website I was pouring over obsessively, and we exchanged a few suggestions about how to make this happen.  Then, the first sewing weekend trip was set.

Okay, so if you're thinking to yourself, "Self, there's no way that Jennie is going to show up at work in that Lynda Carter bathing suit," - well, you're right.  I found several pictures during my research of a few episodes with her in a skirt version of her outfit, and I also decided some kind of tank top would be an appropriate substitute for the bustier she normally wore.  

Brian had a client who did embroidery - bowling team shirts, monogrammed girls' dresses, you name it.  He & I talked about how to make that top, and he talked to his client about how to make that top, and to sum up, there was far too much discussion about how to make that top.  And one evening, I came home from work, and lo, my husband had been to the fabric store.  

He spent hours looking for pictures of the eagle (it changed over the course of the show, so he was looking for a good one to copy) and finally made an eagle pattern out of this gold lame' fabric, and laying it out across a red tank top, I could see it all coming together.  

He had also bought some fake white leather on sale, and figured out a way to wrap that gold fabric around it to make the bracelets and tiara and belt.

You can make of that whatever you want, but at that moment, I could not have possibly loved my husband any more.

He claimed it was not a particularly rough job, looking at hundreds of pictures of Lynda Carter on the internet.  I'll have to take him at his word.

I was over the moon with excitement as I headed home for a sewing weekend.  Mom & I dragged the sewing machine out from its hidey hole in the upstairs closet, and tallied up a short list of the things we'd need.  Mom, god love her, had already found the stars to put on the cape.  We went to Wal-Mart and spent about 45 minutes trying the patience of 2 toddlers while deciding on fabric and notions.   Red, white and blue costume satin, gold trim and rope, thread, and some other stuff.  I think I spent about $40.

In getting the sewing machine, I dug out an old pattern for a short wraparound skirt that Mom had made for us about 10 different times as kids.  It was billed as one of those "make it in a hour" patterns that convinced me to try it.  So as the kids went down for naps, Mom & I put together the first piece of the costume.

The skirt didn't take long, and soon I could see the whole thing coming together.

We found some paper and put together our pattern for the cape.  Essentially it was a half circle sectioned off into one large half of blue, and the other half alternating red and white.  We didn't have a protractor, so we spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out how to make even sections for the red & white.  Considering how proud we were of ourselves for getting it right, I'll tell you now:  neither of us majored in math.  But we did it.

We measured the long edge with a ruler, and it was 54 inches.  We divided by 6.  With a string tied to a pencil, and holding the pencil up near the neck, we drew a straight line down the string every 9 inches.  We wrote the color name on each section, and cut the pattern to begin laying it out on the fabric.  

Piecing it together later on, we realized we probably should have added a seam allowance.  After putting together a few more sections, we realized we also cut out the fabric on the pattern with the wrong side up.  Essentially, every section we added kept getting shorter and shorter.  What started out looking like the one in the WW Museum came out more like a short one to match the length of the skirt.  I didn't mind a bit, actually.  It was pretty impressive for the first try.  Mom added a red satin trim to tie the cape around my neck, and it matched perfectly.

Mom & my sister helped with sewing stars on the cape and skirt.  We tried ironing them on, but the sticky side wasn't working too well on costume satin.

We used some stitch witchery to adhere the gold lame' to the fake leather to make the bracelets and tiara and belt.  Mom stitched gold trim on the edges and after adding red stars, we were set.

At home, I added velcro for the leather pieces, and fitted them.  I had bought a black wig for a Snow White costume ($6) to serve as the gorgeous tresses of Lynda Carter.  I found some boots on a website called Trashy.com ($38, and no, I didn't buy anything else there), and with some nude pantyhose and bright red lipstick, the outfit was complete.

Parading around at work as Wonder Woman, I got plenty of smiles and laughs.  It was well worth it, especially when I got to tell people that I didn't buy that costume - we made just about every single bit of it.  People were stunned.  Mom & I were pretty proud of each other for how great it turned out, and Brian & I were wondering how to make some extra bucks at Halloween, possibly by selling the accessories kit.  

Over Mothers Day weekend, I got to show Mom the results of her hard work.  The company films the parade every year, and I borrowed the DVD to show her my short moment in the sun.  Letting her hear the laughter and applause of other folks as I hammed it up for the crowd - I can only hope that felt like some kind of payment for the project.

Mom, you went above and beyond for what has to be the umpteenth time in my life, and all for a little of your daughter's own personal glory.  You unselfishly spent two weekends on a sewing machine and working over a hot iron to make my little crazy fantasy come true.   I can't say thank you enough, and I just hope the great big grin on my face was worth it.  

Happy New Year, a little late

This year we decided to put up our first Christmas tree together. I had always done a tree in my single days, but once I started dating Brian, we spent so much time traveling to see each other, it didn't make a lot of sense to have a tree in either of our places. When we combined homes, we didn't have room for a tree. And then in the new house - well, Helen would have field-stripped a tree in about 20 seconds. So this year was the first time we both looked at each other and said, "Yeah, we ought to do this."

I dragged out two big boxes of decorations that I'd kept for this moment, and Brian came home with a bargain tree & stand from Home Depot. (Folks, that place has giant, fresh trees for a steal compared to the average tree lot. Check it out next year if you get a chance.) Once Brian made it through the traditional light cursing ceremony, we started with the ornaments, and I soon learned how hard it would be to get Helen to stay on track with this project. I'd put up an ornament, and she'd take it down to look at it. She didn't quite have the hang of putting them back, so as soon as I could decorate, the tree was getting undecorated.

Finally I made some headway, and we spent a couple of weeks letting Helen plug in the lights at night. She really enjoyed having it and talked about it all the time. Brian & I both patted each other on the back for making the holiday so special for her this year.

But there's something about the day after Christmas makes a tree instantly obsolete. We came home from our nice holiday with family to see this rapidly drying tree in our living room, and the only thing I could think of was the work involved in taking it down. Let's leave it up a little longer, I pleaded, hoping to get to a weekend where I could take care of that giant chore. Thinking of the path of needles everywhere in the house as we dragged it out to the car and then cleaning out the car - it was just too exhausting to consider tackling on a weeknight.

Of course, the weekend arrived, and we just played lazy the whole time, so then it's another week with a tree in the house that just reminds me it's not Christmas anymore, and there's work ahead of us to make it all disappear.

So imagine my surprise when I got home the other night, and the living room was spotless. No tree, no needles, and the whole place looked like a million bucks. I was overjoyed to learn Brian had taken the afternoon to get it done. It was literally breathtaking to have all of that work mentally checked off as we moved into the New Year, and at that moment, I was so proud to be married to him.

Helen turned, looked at me, and said, "Santa take tree away?"

What a Treat

Halloween night was a lot of fun this year, mainly because I'm able to explain things to Helen ahead of time and she'll remember it later. I had taken some time last weekend to mention how Halloween worked, so Helen had been expecting to go trick or treating for a few days. She woke up that morning, very sleepy as I got her dressed, and mumbled, "wanna go twicker tweat."

That night I raced home from work and we got ready to have a little bit of company - the Amazing Babysitter and her Still-Smells-Like-New-Car-Husband were coming over to check out the festivities. They brought their two giant German shepherds, who were both wearing skunk costumes. ADORABLE.



I put Helen in her outfit - previously mentioned here as the Hello Kitty Butterfly costume - and then proceeded to get into my costume for the annual photo shoot.



Some of you may have caught the brief Wonder Woman rant last month. So it shouldn't come as too much of a shock to see me in the costume. What might be a little shocking is learning that costume is homemade. Everything except the boots and the lasso were put together with the assistance of my mother, a sewing machine, needle, thread, and serious ironing skills. Even my little sister got in a few stitches on the skirt. I found a lot of tips online from people who had made their own Wonder Woman costume, and was inspired to do it myself. Fortunately I was able to set aside some time on a couple of weekends to get supplies and had a very willing mother help to put it all together.

I am so proud of how the outfit turned out. I have pictures of the process, and I'll compose a post about later this month. But in the meantime, let's think about this: how many people my age can honestly say, "My mom helped me make my Halloween costume this year"? Raise your hands. Higher, folks. I need to get a good count here. Anyone?

Helen had a ball with the tour of the neighborhood this year. But it took 4 houses for her to actually speak up and say "Trick or Treat." Usually when I prompted her with, "Helen, what do you say?" she would respond with "Thank you!" And really, when an adult hands you a giant bowl of candy and lets you pick whatever you want, sometimes as many as FOUR pieces, you can't go wrong with a "Thank you."

Now, if she could just remember to grab the chocolate instead of the Root Beer Dum-Dums, her parents would be thrilled. Girlfriend LOADED UP on the lollipops this year. I don't know what it is about her and lollipops, but it's a little disturbing. Given a choice of anything on a stick and everything else with sugar in it, she goes for the stick every time. Here we have the post-Halloween wrap-up picture, where Helen has one lollipop in her mouth, and is trying to unwrap a second one. Life is tough.



She finally passed out around 9 pm, about an hour later than usual, after bouncing off every single wall in the house from all the sugar. Hope everyone had a great holiday, and that each of you got all the Dum-Dums you wanted, too.

Halloween Preview

I picked a famous person to imitate for Halloween. I think you can tell which one is me.

Flapping those butterfly wings

Saturday Helen & I checked out possible Halloween costumes. I was leaning toward Cinderella, because Nana bought the movie for her and she watched it twice last week. She LOVED it. I haven't seen her sit still for that long, like EVER. But she was totally enthralled with the whole movie. And the scene where the evil stepmother sweeps grandly out of the house after her evil daughters have destroyed Cinderella's gorgeous dress, and the poor girl runs weeping into the garden - well, Helen turned to me with her first words since the movie had started, and asked, "Cinderella crying?" When the movie ended, she had a big smile on her face.

So naturally, when we got to the store, I pointed out a Cinderella costume, and she was interested in all the accessories, like the shoes that were too big and the tiara that I pictured her losing after 2 houses on Halloween night. I started adding it up, and decided to let her roam the aisle for a short time, to see if anything else caught her fancy.

And indeed, it did. We narrowed it down at long last to the Hello Kitty butterfly costume. It came with wings and a headband, for much, much cheaper than the Disney princess package. I knew I liked that girl.

We brought it home, and of course she wanted to crack it open right away. Take note of the pile of clothes on the floor next to her:



Later, she stripped off the dress and ran through the living room with just the wings. She was so thrilled to be "flying."





I don't think this outfit will hold up until Halloween. But this smile was worth every penny.

Where the sky is not cloudy all day

Labor Day weekend was inappropriately named. You get paid *not* to Labor, plus it's a Day, but everyone calls it a Weekend. So it really should be renamed "Labor-Free Three-Day Weekend." People, let's get on this. Write a letter to someone in Congress. I don't think they're busy right now. Certainly not with anything this important. We could have this wrapped up before next year rolls around. Really.

But I digress. After a busy summer, Labor-Free Three-Day Weekend was a chance for the Wyatt family to truly enjoy No Agenda Whatsoever. Unless you count cooking a mess o' ribs for the first Football Saturday, we really didn't do much of anything.

So, when I asked Brian if he wouldn't mind being a tourist in his own town on the holiday, he was pretty easy to please. We traveled down the road a ways to visit a former President's homesite. The 9th President of the US, Andrew Jackson, once lived nearby, and we got a chance to see his place up close.

I've always enjoyed finding new things to do like this, and it turns out this little place was much more than we expected. There's quite a large home that was rebuilt a few times (once due to a fire) and grew into a large stately manor over a period of a few decades. Much of the hardwood floor and even some of the hand-painted wallpaper in the house dates back to 1830's, which was the period of the last major renovation. In addition, several original log cabins on the property have been well-maintained and kept as part of the general tour of the property. There's a tomb with the President and his wife in a beautiful garden next to the home. It was really lovely to see it all and hear stories about General Jackson and his wife Rachel.

One of the funniest stories, though, was about a slave named Alfred. Alfred was born to Betty, the cook. He grew up with his family on Jackson's farm, working his way up to a high position in the household. When the property was sold in the 1880's to the current owners (an historical society), Alfred offered to work for them as a tour guide, if they would agree to give him "a nice funeral" and bury him in the garden near the General. The society quickly agreed to the deal, and Alfred continued to live in his cabin behind the house, giving tours to the public. The story goes that if you showed up at the front door, asked for a tour, and gave Alfred a little tip, he'd show you around the parlors and the library and the upstairs bedrooms, as well as the kitchen and smokehouse. If you didn't tip him, he'd take you in the front door, straight through the front hall to the back door, and let you right back outside.

And in the early 1900's, when Alfred died, he got his "nice funeral" - they held the service in the large front hall of the manor. There's a great picture of the assembled group at the service displayed in Alfred's old cabin. He's buried in the garden near Jackson's tomb.

Now, for the pictures!

Here's Helen under what had to be the biggest magnolia tree I've ever seen. I didn't even attempt to take a picture of the tree, or else you wouldn't have noticed My Doodlebug underneath one of the branches! And most of the leaves are on the ground because of the heat wave.





Here's Helen in the garden, with the flowers (I don't think they worried about the water restrictions!):



Here's the tomb of the President and his wife:



Here's the back porch of the house, where Helen is enjoying running up & down, while Alfred is probably spinning in his grave:

You call it WHAT?

Longtime friends of mine who have been to the beach with us will not be surprised to learn we are now the proud owners of a Deluxe Cornhole Set.

Essentially, a Cornhole set requires two large slabs of wood, propped up at a slight angle, with a hole cut out of each board. It also requires a set of 8 beanbags - four per team. You set the boards several yards apart from each other, and each team of two people takes turns throwing the bags at the board, attempting to land them in the hole, or at least on the board.





Like croquet, you're allowed to knock someone's bag off the board. This kind of move is not looked upon with kindness by your opposing teammates, but is sure to garner appreciative noises from the crowd assembled to watch. Plus, it improves your score. So if you can manage a throw that takes out your opponent, you definitely go for it.

By the way, the name of the game comes from the small bags tossed during the game, which are usually filled with corn kernels. If you're uncomfortable with the name, just replace it with the word "beanbag,' and you've got the gist of it.

My father, who was very uncomfortable with the name, is the creator of our set. I call it Deluxe because he takes his time cranking out even a simple wood project like this one. He is not your average carpenter, but instead excels at providing his daughters with beautiful (and free) furniture they'll treasure for a lifetime. He made the set for us as a way to break back into his woodworking habit. He has spent several years working out of state, coming home on a few spare weekends. But since April, he's finally back at home, and he used some of his newfound free time in his shop, crafting a game which is sturdy enough to survive the roughest blast of the corn-filled bags.

So, I also call this the Heirloom Cornhole Set. One day, Helen's kids will be taking a hammer to it, I tell you. "But I don't WANT that old game! No one plays cornhole anymore," they'll whine. And Helen will say, "Your great-grandpa wanted you to have it. That's why he put eight coats of varnish on it."

My father customized it with special signs from Brian's dear old alma mater. We played in our backyard at a recent cookout with friends. It was such a hit, we were asked to drag it over to Brian's brother's house for their 4th of July party. When we arrived, they had set up a bracket for couples to play each other, tournament-style. We got through the second round, and the championship game was called on account of darkness, but I expect a rematch just as soon as Brian's brother can install an extra spotlight in the backyard. At his wife's request, of course.

Helen's favorite part of the game is running back & forth to whoever is throwing the bags. Naturally, this means she's in the way of the game during at least every other throw. At the 4th of July party, there were 10 kids, and some of them caught on to Helen's trick. Others thought it was their job to pick up the bags that were thrown toward the board - even ones that had scored by landing on the board. So we had a very tough time keeping the kids corraled throughout the evening's games. Nevertheless, everybody had a great time.







By the way, Brian's brother isn't the only one with extra housework looming ahead next weekend. Dad, I've got several orders you need to fill soon:

Two Tennessee sets
One Oklahoma State set
One kid-sized set (maybe Lightning McQueen vs. Towmater?) to keep the kids busy