Live and Let Di

Brown Sugar

No...not the Rolling Stones song that rocked our dorms and not the one that my son cranks on Rock Band. The kind you cook with!!!

Just when you thought something couldn't be improved upon, look what they come out with:

Is this brilliant or what???? Brown sugar prepackaged in one cup increments. Only need a half-cup? No problem. Just cut it down the middle. Or double the recipe so you don't have to bother with that.

I made this using the clever little package of light brown sugar:

Bourbon Pecan Tart with Chocolate Drizzle...from Cooking Light. Light? Ha. Molasses, brown sugar and corn syrup...I'm still trying to figure out how it's light.

Di

Tweet Sweet

The other day, I heard a "tweet tweet" outside my kitchen window. I glanced out and there, perched on my one of my Adirondack chairs (purchased almost two years ago to be painted in bold primary colors, so far only primed and the primer is now chipping off...but I bought the paint and the brushes!) was the first robin of Spring.

Spring comes unfashionably early here in the South. You know it's peeking its head in when the garage door of the Cantina is open, making it more readily apparent to passers-by that the Cantina is open and rocking. (Note to new readers: In my neighborhood, garages are bars that you can walk to or drive your golf cart to, thus eliminating any notion to drive while intoxicated. The Cantina is THE original garage bar, scene of great music, darts, impromptu Karaoke, font of many a private joke and revered for its "No Kids in the Cantina" rule.) The occasional brisk breeze may make Cantina-ites reach for their sweatshirts or salsa dance a little faster (thanks to our token Chilean, Pilar) but generally an open-air Cantina is a harbinger of Spring.

The same day I saw the robin, Kristin and Ashley knocked quietly at my door, bearing GIRL SCOUT COOKIES!!! My husband, on a business trip in Mexico, threatened grounding, beating with thrushes (we're in the South, corporal punishment is still a sign of good parenting) and (gasp!) loss of electronics, if there were any fewer than two boxes of Samoas when he got home.

I grabbed a box and flipped it furiously to look at the nutritional information. It has always astounded me that the serving size is listed as "2 cookies." Is there anyone in the free world who has ever had just TWO Girl Scout cookies? The fact must be faced that the REAL serving size is "1 Box"...half a box if you are dieting. And no one should bother starting a diet when it's Girl Scout cookie season.  Even if you manage to say "No" to these cherubic girls while their neighborhood hottie Dad sits in the car, you will find more angelic predators lying in wait outside Food Lion looking all earnest in their uniforms and badge-filled sashes while the bedraggled "Cookie Mom" looks on, rocking rhythmically while multiplying things by $3.00 in her head. (I wonder if Girl Scouts sell outside of Whole Foods? Have they come out with an Organic Girl Scout Cookie? Treehugger Trefoils, perhaps?

This morning the News & Observer explodes the 2007 Cookie Crisis on its front page. This year, in addition to the astronomical calories per cookie and the guilt/philanthropy compusion to consume, we have to deal with two major Cookie Catastrophes:

1. Pshortbread Pseudonyms - Is this something along the lines of our childhood beloved Sugar Smacks transforming to Sugar Smacks to Honey Smacks to simply Smacks...all the while maintaining the exact same sugar content??? Do-Si-Do's are now Peanut Butter Sandwiches. Tagalongs are now Peanut Butter Patties. Samoas are now Caramel Delites. Trefoils are now Shortbread.

2. They are Pstale!!!! - Southern Girl Scout troops used a new baker this year and apparently the tried-and-true recipes didn't translate into Southern. Perhaps they referred to Southern staple, lard, as something less fat-sounding. Maybe the recipe had no place for fatback, a Southern delicacy that enhances beans, greens and pralines. Or maybe it was the LEAKY WAREHOUSE ROOF (I kid you not) that defiled the Do-Si-Do's. I mean, polluted the Peanut Butter Sandwiches. Or perhaps tainted the Trefoils. It's REALLY hard to eat a whole box in one sitting when the morning news quotes one cookie-phile as likening the Peanut Butter Sandwiches (my personal fave) to "Milk Bone."

If the biggest fundraiser of the year for Girl Scouts was designed to teach business sense and bookkeeping to its troops, they are getting a dose of fiscal reality this Spring. The prices remain the same. The cookies get smaller. The repackaging and renaming doesn't catch on (New Coke anyone?) Sales drop. Fewer camp-outs next year. Generic chocolate in the S'mores.

Will Hillbama (sorry, my husband held me down and made me watch Kudlow on MSNBC last night) be able to make an impact on the economy fast enough to improve sales next year?

Di

Not-so-Grand-mother

***Names changed to protect the daughter...we never outgrow our desire to not piss off our Moms***

***This is NOT about my Mom...she is not 75, doesn't have twins and has never been to Arizona***

 

Louise is turning 75. She is a widow. She has four children, including identical twin girls. She has lots and lots of grandchildren. She has all of her faculties intact. Since I'm 45 and my faculties call in sick all the time leaving unqualified subs in their place, this is quite an accomplishment. She handles her own finances (oops, sorry, that reminded me to click over and pay my Visa bill...I'm back now.) She travels the world and has residences in several locations. She currently resides in Arizona.

A few months prior to her birthday Louise e-mailed the twins, Sarah and Holly, to let them know that to celebrate her 75th and their 50th birthdays she wanted to take them to The Golden Door spa. Holly called her mom to respond:

"Mom. Um...there's one little problem."

"What's that, dear?"

"We aren't turning 50 this year."

"Oh."

The twins will be 48, still two years away from the half-century mark. Last year Louise sent them 50th birthday cards.

Di

The South's Gonna Do It Again

Here in the Raleigh area, schools are organized (if you can call it that) by county. I suppose that has some advantages. If you live in one of the more disadvantaged areas in the county, you benefit from the taxes paid by the people in the zero lot line McMansions. My kids would say it's awesome that school gets canceled here due to road conditions 20 miles away...some Moms might not describe their feelings on this as "awesome."

However you feel about schools and public education (of which we are huge supporters), you have to admire the old-fashioned, all-American pluck of the parents in Cary (not coincidentally the home of lots of McMansions) as they ponder SECESSION!

It brings to mind the hootin' and hollerin' on the lawn of Twelve Oaks as the Southern gentlemen celebrate the war. Southern belles in hoop skirts with impossibly small waists swoon as the excitement saps their lungs of air (or it could be the too-tight corsets). Rhett Butler smiles knowingly at the futility of their folly.

I applaud the Cary (locally known as the "Containment Area for Relocated Yankees"...but then again, the Civil War is referred to as "The War of Northern Aggression") parents for uniting and rising up against an entrenched bureaucracy. Whether they succeed or fail, their attempt is a valiant effort to practice DEMOCRACY!!!

Di

Thursday Thirteen (Vol. 68)

Last year, I suppressed the urge to join in the Valentine's sap-fest by posting a snarky TT about things that I had to explain to my children that week. This year, having undergone the incredible transformation in my mood and attitude in the past couple of months, I am going to succumb and post. (Don't be dismayed, I promise snarkiness and irreverence sprinkled in with the sap.):

Thirteen Things I Love

1. My dog, Toby
Even though he has transformed from the sweet puppy with the big feet on the left to the protective 91 pound lap dog on the right, he is a daily reminder that there IS something called unconditional love. Yesterday I was sitting at my desk in a chair on wheels when Toby poked his nose between my arm and my side to try to get my attention. I was involved in something like doing taxes, so I made the mistake of ignoring him. He proceeded to go under the desk, place his nose on the chair and PUSH ME AWAY FROM THE DESK ON THE CHAIR WITH WHEELS!!!! If you come to my house, be prepared to be nuzzled and laid on, but you will never be barked at or bitten.

2. My children

Sometimes my children can make me crazy, But then my daughter takes my breath away with her tenderness and sensitivity. My son knocks me over with his inquisitiveness and sports savvy. The older they get, the more reasons they give me to love them. Oh, and All My Children. I tuned in this week and Angie is back!!! And Jessie. I'm fairly certain I watched Jessie die on screen 20 years ago, but such is the soap world.

3. My husband

He has been through the wringer with me. He is the man you want on your team if you are ever in a crisis. And he just called and asked me to be his "Valentime!"

Oh...and he makes me laugh!

4. The rest of my family

Too numerous to mention...my Mom & Dad, my sister, my Aunt Mary...and even an aunt that is no longer technically part of the family since she divorced from my uncle. My parents had their share of worries when I was a teen, although they seem minor when compared with the horrors that we imagine as parents. But I am extra special, providing them with ongoing reminders of their earlier parenting years by continuing to have the occasional crisis! My sister is there for me...and always ready to pipe in with, "Oh my God! I remember that too!"  when I say something about growing up.

5. Tapas Restaurants

We've gotten through the things I LOVE  and now we are into things I love.  Choosing is so hard at a restaurant when you are staring at a menu full of ambrosial choices with lyrical descriptions that require a thesaurus. Tapas restaurants are the socially acceptable way to say, "I'll have one of everything!" Favorites are the Falcon House in Delray Beach and Humble Pie in Raleigh.

6. My son again

Because when I just read this to him he said, "Why? Because you like looking at girls?" Tapas, my dear, not TOPLESS.

7. Wine

Although I'm pretty much a two-glass maximum girl these days, there is still nothing like a glass of wine. It makes me think of friendship, comfort and satisfaction. I still savor the process of opening a bottle of wine while preparing dinner. I love that my house is a destination for my hard-working friends if they need to unwind after work before facing the husband and kids. I love that we all have favorite wines that cost $6.99 on special at Harris Teeter. No pretension here...just glasses raised in camaraderie.

8. Crab Cakes

About 10 years ago my husband and I were asked to be test diners for the soft opening of Legal Seafoods at Sawgrass Mills in Florida. Since that evening, I have been on the hunt for the perfect crab cake. I see a menu, squinch my eyes up and say, "Do you think the crab cakes HERE will be good?" My husband gives his best advice based on the location and the quality of the restaurant. And I try...and try...and try. Brunch at The Shore restaurant in Delray was our favorite brunch destination because they had to-die-for Crab Cakes Benedict! Perfection!

9. Sports Night

Sports Night was the most well-crafted sitcom to ever grace prime time. The characters had the perfect balance of quirkiness and intensity. Its creator, Aaron Sorkin who wrote A Few Good Men, The American President and The West Wing, refused to pander to the masses, infusing his scripts with dialogue that left the actors breathless and the viewers trying to figure out how to turn the closed-captioning on. We got the DVD set of the full series. So now when I climb under the covers and say, "Want to?" My husband croons, "Yeah." And I put the next DVD in.

10. My Neighborhood

Here in the South, the neighborhood association exists to put on the annual pumpkin-carving, give awards for Yard-of-the-Month and have a cul-de-sac party with a band once in a while. They don't tell you what trees to plant or what kind of truck you can park in your driveway or where your guests can park or even how much noise you make. Neighbor cranking his music too loud on a Friday night? Drop over and tell him...and end up having a beer, staying for hours and cranking up the music even more. Someone sick? There will be a casserole at your door before you can fill the prescription. When they say "it takes a village," this is the village!

11. Goat Cheese

Tonight I artistically arranged my salad, added some Paul Newman's Balsamic Vinaigrette and something just felt wrong. As I added some goat cheese crumbles, I think I heard my salad sigh, "You complete me!"

12. House

I love the show House. I love the man House. I love the writers for resolving their strike. I love the house we're getting ready to build. "House" is kind of my theme for the next several months.

13. Books and Blogging

The two are intertwined now. I read with more of a purpose now because I blog. I expand my reading repertoire because I am challenged by other blogs that inspire me to read. I read blogs. Going to a bookstore is never an errand....it's an indulgence. Love it!

And I love my readers...wish you would comment more...but love you just the same!

Di

 

Recycle your Crocs

I am not a fan of Crocs myself and I humbly recall telling my husband when he bought the stock that, "Crocs are the next Earth Shoes." That didn't turn out to be true, thus underlining the need for me to stick to my day job (although I don't HAVE a day job) and stay out of the stock selection business. Crocs are ubiquitous, trans-gender and still going strong. I've seen them on doctors, kindergarteners, soccer moms, guys who golf and nurses. And anything that keeps those nurses going at the pace they go definitely has something going for it.

And now, Crocs have crossed into higher fashion (well, in Fuquay Varina anyway) with the addition of "embellishments." Anyone who has ever had a child between the ages of 5 and 10 knows that if it's cute and collectible, it's going to catch on with the "and-a-half" generation.

But where does a Croc go when it has served out its useful life or lost its mate?

a) to the local landfill

b) to a friend who really doesn't want the receptacle of your child's sweaty feet for her kid but is too nice to tell you

c) to a place where they will be recycled to provide shoes for people who are without in Armenia, Cambodia, Chad, Darfur, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, Malawi, Mali, Moldova, Philippines, Romania, Swaziland, Tanzania, Thailand, Vietnam, and Zimbabwe.

OK, that was kind of a loaded question. Click here for more info.

Di

***This just in***

In case you don't read comments, Karen of verbatim just told me that you can run Crocs through the dishwasher!!! How fab is that? And you MUST click on the link to her post today (above)...chocolate and Scrabble! Two of my favorite things!

Forgive Me

***This just in...contest below***

No, forgive ME. I apologize to any readers who saw the title and expected a juicy confession here. But I did promise to be more diligent and timely with my book reviews. I finished this just yesterday, so I am proud to post the review today.

When the publisher sent me this gem, I was delighted because I had read Sleep Toward Heaven in February, 2004 upon the recommendation of my Mom and loved it.

Forgive Me tells the story of Nadine, a fearless, jaded reporter who is always chasing the next world tragedy and is able to look the sociopolitical horrors in the face without flinching. Naturally, she is drawn to post-Apartheid South Africa where both races are still struggling to bring justice to the perpetrators and make sense of their actions.

The story opens as Nadine is pursuing a story in Mexico where she suffers a brutal assault. As she recovers, she is torn between a life in the sedate town of Woods Hole, Massachusetts and the pursuit of a story in South Africa. The story takes on a personal meaning when she meets the parents of the victim, a Nantucket native, and reads his journal.

The backdrop of the torn fabric of South Africa's culture gives Forgive Me a depth that transcends Nadine's individual experience. The author uses language and details that immerse the reader in the prose:

"Still, Nadine loved talking to her subjects for hours, drinking tea and picking the locks of their minds."

"Nadine had to listen carefully for the narrative beneath the facades they constructed for themselves."

Forgive Me is about kindness and fear, the white lies that make the difference in our memories and the fierce loyalty that connects friends and families in the face of unspeakable experience.

Di

***P.S. I just visited Amanda Eyre Ward's website and invited her to read my review. As much as I hate adding to my competition, I feel compelled to let you know that she is running a great contest on her site. You can win a gift basket full of things that are relevant to the book or you can win a copy of the book itself!***

Click here to enter

From Mommy to Mother

That shiver that passed through me the day the stick turned pink sparked visions of being a Mommy. I anxiously awaited the day when we could hold that little bundle. We looked forward to all those firsts...first tooth, first step, first word, first day of school.

I didn't give a great deal of thought to being a Mother. Being a  Mother is what happens when you encounter the firsts that are not joyous. This week that first was the death of a recent graduate of my daughter's high school. His brother is in my daughter's grade. He had many friends who were still seniors. He was a soccer player. He was a friend. He deserved to become the gaming programmer he aspired to be. He didn't deserve to become a cautionary tale for worried parents.

Driving by his memorial, which is just a mile from my house and visible from the golf course, is chilling. A week ago, his speeding car flipped, ejecting him onto the vacant field that until that moment was the future location of someone's dream home. In the days since that world-changing night, you can see high school kids milling around the tribute, sitting and crying or standing and staring in utter disbelief. Some are alone. Some are standing in clusters supporting each other with their hugs and finding comfort in the arms and tears of others.

Going in closer, you see the most important things in a young man's life. The present was a box of Goldfish, some Camel smokes, a high school soccer t-shirt, a can of Miller Lite and inexplicably, a can of Intense deoderant. Nostalgia was a picture of his winning soccer team, a picture with his best friend at graduation, wearing the mortarboard that signified the promise of the future and a bottle of sand from last year's beach trip. The future was...extinguished.

Parents play bartering games with God...anything to please, let this not happen to my kid. Maybe this immunizes us from future tragedy. Please let me not refrain from giving the admonishment that brings eye-rolls from my kid, but becomes the one thing that pops into his head when he is about to make that split-second bad decision.

I became a mother as my daughter and I walked away from the church still hearing the quiet sniffles and the occasional gut-wrenching moan of grief. Somewhere along the line, we have instilled some empathy in my age-appropriately self-absorbed daughter. She looked at me and said, "You must identify with his mother. But I identify with his brother because I can't imagine something like that happening." She made a brave little smile when I reminded her of how much she detests her brother. They DO know the difference between momentary sibling annoyances and the lifetime bond of a sibling.

For one moment we understood each other. And I felt like I graduated from Mommy to Mother.

Things that Never Cross a Man's Mind

Whoever says boys aren't innately different than girls didn't have two kids in double digits. The other day I took my son and his friend to the mall. My son needed jeans. He found a pair that he liked at American Eagle. Once he tried them on and they fit, I asked him if he wanted to get another couple of pairs in a different color denim. He replied, "No, these are fine." My daughter would have demanded every pair they had plus three camis and a sweatshirt and whined mournfully if she didn't get them.

Later on, in abercrombie, I asked my son's friend if he wanted a pair of flip flops. I had told each boy he could spend $20 and the flip flops were miraculously $20 (probably the only thing in the store that cheap!) My son's friend said, "No, I already have flip flops."

I was immediately reminded of Kellie Pickler's new song:

"Things That Never Cross A Man's Mind"

I need to go shopping
These shoes are all wrong
Just look in my closet
Not a thing to put on
I wonder how these jeans make me look from behind
Things that never cross a man's mind

Such truth from a former American Idol finalist!!!

Di

The Blind Side: Evolution of a Game

I am somewhat of a rarity amongst book-loving, middle-aged Moms. I happen to love sports. I like to play golf. I like to watch baseball and basketball with my husband and son. I like to go to games. But most of all, I love football! I am passionate about the Miami Dolphins, especially since Dan Marino and I migrated to South Florida at just about the same time. I waited on Dan and many of the other Dolphins when I was a cocktail waitress.

My son and I met and were photographed with Joe Theissman, an NFL QB turned broadcaster who is most remembered for his horrific compound leg fracture inflicted by Lawrence Taylor in a Monday Night Football game in 1985.

My husband will tell you that I am most interested in the statistics and strategy of the game. I love when the announcer comes on and says, "32% of all quarterbacks from USC who left after their junior year are now playing on East Coast Teams." The Blind Side by Michael Lewis is full of this type of information. He used the same types of information about baseball to support his thesis in Moneyball: The Art of Winning an Unfair Game.

In The Blind Side, Lewis posits that football experienced a seismic shift when Lawrence Taylor changed the role of left tackle, previously a faceless entity on the offensive line, to the second or third most highly paid player on a team. Why is he so important? Because he protects a right-handed quarterback's blind side. How ironic that the tackle who landed the career-ending blow to Joe Theissman is known for his talent in protecting the quarterback.

In order to illustrate his point, Lewis follows the high school career of a young man who came from very humble beginnings who will soon be one of the most sought-after college grads in the country because of his talent protecting the blind side.

Lewis writes beautifully and seamlessly blends the history and statistics of football with the poignant story of a young man bound for greatness thanks to the help of the family who "adopts" him. If you aren't a sports-lover, buy this book for the favorite football fan in your life. It's a keeper.

Di

***Click on the image or book links in this post to be taken to the BookSense web site to purchase it from your local independent bookstore***