Who Needs Those Elves Anyway

There are days when no matter how hard you try, acting like an adult is really hard. Today was one of those rare days that with the exception of taking Erin to school this morning and to rehearsal this evening, I had nothing specific that had to be done. There was plenty that could be done - mowing four acres of grass that is nearly up to my knees, vacuum the fur balls that are about to take on life, tackle a growing pile of laundry, grade some papers, finish reading the script for the show I am working props, write the center essay for the next issue of Spirit of Knitting, finish knitting the sweater I am teaching a class on in a few weeks. This is depressing! I was wrong. There were many things I should have been doing. There is always tomorrow . . .

I did manage to clean the kitchen, do a load of laundry, and pay a few bills. Then it was time for lunch. I was hungry, but nothing sounded good except . . .a peanut butter and jelly, or maybe banana, sandwich. How first grade is that? I am happy to be in first grade today. I had my PB&J, some pretzels, and a glass of tea. I must say that this hit the spot - with the exception of one little thing. I needed a cookie! Every good sandwich and chips lunch should come with a cookie. We did not have any. I had two choices; I could throw a first grader's tantrum over no cookies or, lacking a personal relationship with the Keebler elves, I could do the adult thing and make some. I did not have enough energy for a respectable tantrum, so my decision was to make the cookies.

What kind of cookies to make? I decided to make my all-time favorite cookies, No Bake Oatmeal Chocolate Cookies. Craving these cookies is definitely a sign that today was a first grade day because they have been my favorite since I was in the first grade. If you are counting, that is forty years.

I was five years old and we lived in Newport, Rhode Island. When mom would go out on Friday nights to play bridge with the other Navy wives whose husbands were deployed, Kathy the babysitter was given the dubious honor of entertaining me. She took this 25 cent an hour job quite seriously. After feeding me the regulation babysitter dinner that mom left (Salisbury steak TV dinner with tater tots) we would make cookies - No Bake Oatmeal Chocolate Cookies. I loved Friday nights! I am sure that Kathy;s memories of me are not nearly as positive as mine are of her and her cookies.

As I got older and no longer needed a babysitter, mom still went to play bridge on Friday nights. I thought that was my sign that it was time to make cookies. I did have quite a philosophical debate with myself over this issue, however. My mom's rule was that I was not allowed to "cook" while she was away from home. The TV dinners, which required cooking in the oven because this was before microwaves, were out and sandwiches were in. This was fine with me as long as there were cookies. These cookies said they were "no-bake". Is that close enough to "no cooking"? This is only a little misleading. They do require just a little melting of sugar, butter, and chocolate and bringing this to the soft ball stage, but they are called "no-bake". I figured that was close enough so I went with that. And with no babysitter, I did not have to share the cookies. I still loved Friday nights.

And I still love these cookies. Even though it was Thursday afternoon and not Friday night, I made some. I also ate too many. I did, however, share with BK and Erin. Sharing was today's conceit to being grown-up.

I am not sure what it is about these cookies that makes them so awesome. I guess it is that they contain the three ingredients that rock my world - chocolate, peanut butter, and oatmeal. Any one of these things makes me blissfully happy; when you put them all together life is perfect! Though the taste is out of this world, these are not the most attractive cookies. We all know, however, that you should not judge a book by its cover. if you decide that don't look good, I'll be glad to take care of your share.

It is nearly midnight and there are still some left. Assuming I go to bed soon, Erin will get a couple in her lunch tomorrow.

Don't they look good! Because I am in a sharing mood, here is the recipe.

No Bake Oatmeal Chocolate Cookies

• 2 C sugar
• 1/4 C butter
• 2 T cocoa
• 1/2 C milk
• 3/4 C peanut butter
• 2 1/2 C quick oats
• 1/4 t salt
• 1/2 t vanilla

Heat sugar, butter, cocoa, and milk in sauce pan. Once all is melted, add peanut butter. Boil for 3 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in oatmeal, vanilla, and salt. Drop by teaspoon onto wax paper.

Tomorrow is Friday. If you find yourself home alone tomorrow night, try these cookies. If you have date, cancel and stay home and make these cookies. You won't regret it!

Thick Head, Thin Ice

I am skeptical of any occasion than requires me to think about what I am going to say in advance. I like spontaneity, creativity, and freedom. Who wants to live a scripted life? However, I did think a little bit about what I would say to Brooke as we parted ways in Chicago.

I could have burdened her with the "You are being given such a wonderful opportunity here. I hope you understand the sacrifices that are being made on your behalf. I expect you to take this seriously and study hard." You get the drift. Had I said this to her, she would have rolled her eyes at me and given me that look that means nothing other than stop with the bullshit. She would never respond positively to such a plea on my part.

I could have given her the "We love you and we are proud of you. Anything that you want to do is fine with me; just be happy." This is a nice thought on the surface, but it is way to mushy for Brooke, and for me too.

So, we began our walk behind the bagpipes with me resorting to the tried and true spontaneous moment. As I gave her a hug, the words that came out of my mouth were, "Try to learn to be a team player." This sounds a little stupid since this kid has been a part of many sports TEAMS since she was four. She was the soccer team captain last year, a position that she did not want but that the coaches wanted her to have. She was perfectly happy taking her place in the goal box and waiting for someone to either slam a ball into her face or body slam her into the ground. Enduring the physical abuse that a goalie takes was much more appealing to Brooke than having to be caught up in the drama of the field players.

In class, she always does her best, but she is not one to engage in dialogue or discussion. She believes that everyone is entitled to their opinion. If she disagrees with you it really doesn't matter and she will not put forth any energy to discuss it. She thinks what she thinks and that is all that really matters.

Although, maybe my advice wasn't so bad after all. She is in an environment where there is much to be gained by joining the team, a team that will allow you to push your personal limits and the limits of academia. Perhaps she will realize that. There are places where nonconformity is beneficial, but there are also many places where it is not.

After we left her and I was pondering my last minute advice, we passed this sign while walking through campus. On a campus that has been home to 78 Nobel Prize winners, the need for such a warning made me laugh. On the literal level, it may be good advice for the girl from Texas who thinks that she does not need a heavy coat (though the coat she finally ordered has arrived). On the metaphorical level, however, thin ice may be the best place for her - testing the strength of her ideas and her potential to save herself if she should fall through and find herself floundering in the icy cold water.

One Flew Out Of The Cuckoo Nest!

Offspring No. 1 is now in Chicago. She has officially begun her college career. U Chicago has it together in terms of making the incoming first year's feel comfortable. From the moment she was accepted to the university, they have done all in their power to make these kids feel like they are part of a community. It was no different when we arrived on campus Saturday morning. The day began with the students getting their schedules for orientation week. The week is divided between taking placement tests and getting to know the campus and the city of Chicago. In addition to calculus tests and physical fitness tests, they also have the opportunity to partake in a coffee shop crawl, service projects in the city, movies with their class and the other members of their house, and a trip to Target for those items that did not make it into the suitcases.

After receiving a schedule, the next thing on the agenda was to get a UChicago ID. This was done in the library. Smart move on the university's part - teach them where the library is early in the process! In the quad outside the library was a gathering of student organizations and technology information. I was amazed at the level of organization evidenced by it all. I was also pleased to learn that the university has in place a program called UCalert. This is a program that requires all students to register an email and a cell phone number capable of receiving text messages in the event that there is an incident such as that which happened at Virginia Tech last spring.

Here are the girls as we entered the quad. In several insatnces, people were not sure which one of them was the enrolling student.

Next we helped Brooke unpack her stuff in her dorm room. She has a single room - good for her her and better for the person who might have been unfortunate enough to be her roommate! Every room in her house is a single room. She is lucky to be right around the corner from an awesome community kitchen. I was not worried about her missing any of us, but the kitchen is a whole different story! The four ovens, four sinks, and personal kitchen lockers for all who want them is a great feature of this particular residence hall. SHe won't miss home at all.

Brooke took a few of the comforts of home - her Care Bears, some posters, a Justice League jigsaw puzzle, enough tea to prepare high tea for the masses every afternoon throughout the year, and her Batman blanket.

What more could a girl want?

"This place is pretty cool, especially if they keep giving me toys!"
She got a free yo-yo at the earlier activities.

The process of leaving the kids is quite an ordeal. At 3 pm there was a Convocation for the class of 2011 that lasted about an hour. At its conclusion, the students and their families formed a procession led by bagpipes. The procession worked its way from Rockefeller Chapel to this gate.

If you notice the small print on the sign, at this point the students continue through the gate where they are met by other students from their respective houses. Once all the students have said their good-byes, the entire class makes their way to the football stadium for a class picture. The families took a right turn and headed for a wonderful reception complete with a large amount of food, beer and wine - a little something to ease the pain.

Before we left Brooke, her sister bullied her into promising to stay in touch. Brooke is not the best at communication

She promised to give us a call every now and then. I hope for the price of tuition that they will teach her how to use a phone!

All of the day's activities were staffed exclusively by students and they all took their jobs seriously. This guy may have had the most important job of all - making Kleenex available as parents and kids went their separate ways.

Even though I was leaving Brooke in Chicago and won't see her until Thanksgiving, it was a nice day. It is obvious from her demeanor that she feels comfortable there; that is no simple thing. I trust that she will have an amazing experience while at UC.

Though Brooke has not actually picked up the phone and called, she did text message Erin after having been away from us only an hour and a half to say that she had met a friend. That too is no small feat. At 10:30 last night she was helping her new friend, a drag queen (his description) decorate his dorm room. That's my girl!

You're Blowing Hot Air

Tonight is Brooke's last night at home. Tomorrow we leave to take her to Chicago to begin her a college career, a time that should be both challenging and fun. This is the moment that on one hand every parent looks forward to and on the other, dreads. At the moment of conception, and sometimes even before, parents start to wonder what their children will grow up to be. In what will they be interested? Will they be athletic? Will they do well in school? Where will they go to college? In less time than you think, the answers to these questions are answered. So, here I sit proud of Brooke for being successful in life thus far, being accepted to the eighth ranked university in the world and realizing that, except for paying her bills, my work with her is essentially done. No longer will I be the primary adult influence in her life. (I know there are those of you reading this that are thinking, "Thank God! Maybe there is hope for that kid after all!") She is ready to move on and I am ready to let her.

For a brief moment, I said to myself that if I had not allowed her to skip a grade in school, I would have her home for another year. In all honesty, that would not have been good for her. In fact, it probably would have been disastrous. She needs to make her way in a challenging academic world. Another year of high school would have bored her to tears. I am sure that the teachers are also glad to see her move on.

For the last month or so, she has been halfheartedly gathering the things she wants to take with her. It is amazing how different the presumed needs of a college freshman and the presumed needs of a college freshman;s mother are.

The biggest point of contention is over cold weather clothing. This child, born and raised entirely in Texas, has NO IDEA how cold it will be during a Chicago winter. She refused to buy a winter coat because "They are all ugly." I'm thinking that when you are freezing your butt off at 7:30 some morning when the temperature us -10, ugly is the least of your problems.

And then there are socks. Being the mother, I felt that it was my duty to say that she needed warm socks. "But I hate long socks!" I then think, how do you feel about frozen feet, and ankles and and legs? You may learn that socks are your friends.

What about boots? "Boots are dumb! I am not going skiing or hiking." Let's see if that -10 morning with a few inches of snow and her 15 minute walk to campus doesn't feel like a hike.

She did actually purchase yarn while we were in Taos to make herself a hat and a scarf. If she makes it, at least there is a good chance that she will actually wear it. (No cold ears to go with cold feet, ankles and legs.)

I did finally convince her to order a heavy coat, which should be delivered to her next week, and buy some long socks that she says that she will wear. But, no boots or winter shoes. She does, however, have two pairs of soccer shoes - cleats for outdoors and turf shoes for indoors. She said her cleats kept her feet warm during the 32 degree soccer games. We'll see how they do in snow. Then there are the knee high combat boots. Considering how heavy they are, she should be warm. A possibility . . .

All I can hope for is that when she gets cold, she will hear my nagging voice saying, "You need a heavy coat and some boots. Maybe you should also add an extra layer. Do you think maybe you should wear your hat and your hood? Mittens are actually warmer than gloves. I love you." Perhaps all of the perceived hot air that I have wasted on this subject will relieve some of the cold air that she is sure to encounter.

We leave tomorrow with whatever she has packed. In the age of Internet ordering, shopping in the city and mommy mailing things from home, I am sure she will have all that she needs.

Maternal ranting aside, I hope most that she learns during these next four years who she is what ignites a true passion in her.

September 11, 2007

By the time any of us has reached adulthood, there has been at least one historical event for which there will be a lifelong discussion of "Do you remember where you were when . . " In my lifetime such events have included:

• the assassination of John F. Kennedy- I was not even two years old and I have no idea what I was doing
• the end of the Vietnam War - I was about ten and lived in Hawaii. Each of the planes carrying returning POW's landed in Honolulu, the first U.S. soil that these men stepped on. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to meet every one of these planes. Though at the time I was too young to understand all of the ramifications of this war, it did touch me on a personal level because my dad had been to Vietnam. Fortunately, he returned home safely. For several years during that time, I wore a POW bracelet bearing the name of a U.S. prisoner of war. On the second night of meeting these planes, the man whose name I had carried with me walked off the plane and I was able to give to him that bracelet.
• the release of the hostages in Iran - I was in college. We were supposed to be having a wind ensemble rehearsal. The director felt that watching this moment in history was more important to our education than rehearsing Sousa marches so he rolled a TV cart into the band hall and we all sat and watched.
• the Challenger explosion - I, like most involved in education, watched the launch of the shuttle carrying the first civilian teacher at school. I was in graduate school at the time.
• September 11, 2001

On that Tuesday morning six years ago, BK and I took the girls to school and stopped at Cracker Barrel for breakfast on the way home. While were doing the New York Times crossword puzzle over coffee, BK got a frantic call from her sister asking where John, BK's husband, was. BK said that he was in Chicago. MH starting telling us all of the sketchy details of the first attacks on the World Trade Center. In the first moments of the morning's events, there was talk of possible attacks in several big cities. Like I said, John was on the ground at a conference in Chicago and Mike was supposed to be in the air on his way to New York. Thankfully as it turned out, he was on a plane that was grounded in Atlanta. We left our unfinished puzzle on the table at Cracker Barrel and headed home to watch the news. It was several hours before I was able to reach Mike and know that he was safely on the ground. We reached John almost immediately. Throughout the day, several friends called to talk about how upset they were. Like people all over this country, we did our best to console one another.

It was interesting to me that though BK and I both had husbands traveling, few people asked how we were and if they were OK. We were to be the consolers, not the consolees. And, we were. During the four days following 9/11, we served forty dinners to various people. This community was what made these days bearable. I sometimes wonder, looking back, how I managed to be so hospitable at that time. I now know that that was all I could do. Somehow, I believe it was an extension of my faith.

Both John and Mike arrived home on Friday of that week - John after renting a car and driving and Mike on one of the first planes back in the air. At the point he flew home, the TSA had not even decided what could be carried on by passengers. Mike may have been one of the first people to test whether or not we can fly with knitting needles. Security pulled his metal sock needles from his bag. The officers had a discussion about whether or not they should be permitted on board. Mike, not being the patient type, offered to take them to the Admirals Club and have them mailed home. They too arrived home safely a few days later. I am amazed at how vivid the details of this day and those following still are to me.

I turned on CNN this morning to hear a debate over whether or not we should continue to have public commemorations of 9/11. In a viewer call in poll, the two sides were tied at 50/50. Those against continuing to hold these public "spectacles", as one person called them, said that we need to let the families who lost loved ones and this country move on. Those in favor argue that the events of that day will be forever ingrained in us and we need these ceremonies to acknowledge that which we all carry deep within.

No matter how many more years the names of those lost are read in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania, commemorations will continue to happen. If you are old enough to remember September 11, 2001, I don't think that it is possible to meet this day each year and not stop for a moment and remember where you were then . . .and be thankful for where you are now.

Goats and Dreams

A couple of weeks ago I was strolling through our local Barnes and Noble bookstore. As I recall, I was not looking for anything in particular. For some reason, I found myself in the nature section. Though I enjoy reading on this topic, it is not one that I frequent when wandering aimlessly through the bookstore.. Not shelved such that only the spine was visible, but facing full front like it was placed there just for me, was a book titled The Year of the Goat by Margaret Hathaway and Karl Schatz. It caught my attention because I have this not so secret fantasy of having a goat or two. I picked it up, read the jacket notes, and was immediately drawn in.

The book chronicles the year-long travels of the authors as they sought to escape the hectic lifestyle of New York City and find meaning in a simpler place where they could live closer to the land. In New York, Margaret worked in an upscale bakery in the city and Karl was a photographer for a major publisher. Both enjoyed fine food, especially cheeses, in particular goat cheese. After serious but not abundant research, they came to the notion that maybe they could find the life that they yearned for by raising goats for cheese making.

They set out to traverse the country visiting goat and cheese conventions, farms across the country, and anyone else who would talk to them about their dream to become goat farmers. Margaret and Karl left New York with a few personal belongings, their dog, Godfrey, and a dream - not a real plan, just a dream. Their travels took them across the country from coast to coast and south to north from Texas to Minnesota. The purpose of this year on the road was to gain practical insight into the life of goat farmers. Margaret and Karl did indeed find these insights, but they also found so much more. It is the "much more" that made this book a great read for me.

I was most struck by the fact that these two people had a dream and set out to make it come true. Though they had some basic ideas of what they would do during their year on the road, Margaret and Karl trusted that they would be lead in the right direction. And, they were. I wish I had this kind of courage - the courage to dream this big and then go for it. For someone who is not a risk taker, it is almost impossible to comprehend such a decision. This book is affirmation that all of us can make our dreams come true if we allow the magic to happen.

Dreams often come true in fiction; it is nice to see them realized also in non-fiction.

Bite Me!

Nothing else need be said.