My Children are my Heart

Children:  The best people on earth.  Innocent and full of adventure. Free spirited and accepting.

Sentence: My Children are my heart walking around outside my body. – Urban Dictionary

There are several boxes of family videos sitting in my computer room – mostly unlabeled.  They’ve been sitting there for years taking up space and gathering dust.  They taunted and teased us.  “You really should take a look at us before we detoriate.” Mostly, we ignored them, leaving them to collect dust bunnies.

Last weekend, I decided to tackle the task of reviewing those home movies.  For three days, the kids and I laughed, cried (okay I was the one that cried,) and shared some wonderful memories as we talked about the stories behind each video.  I watched my kids grow up all over again. I discovered videos of loved ones who are no longer with us.

Most of the videos chronicled the kids at various stages in their lives.  Time is sometimes a thief for my family as memories fade into the hectic pace of daily living.  Videos capture those memories so at some point we take the time to watch them so we don’t forget.  During those three days last weekend I watched two small miracles smile, dance and sing their way through early childhood with unbridled joy and energy (emphasis on the word energy!)  They took off in rocket ships and walked in space, and rescued each other from sinking sand.  They conjured stories and songs about their adventures.  Becky was a tiny, singing, moving machine with an imagination as big as the outdoors.  Michael was a big, busy toddler with huge smile, eager to make his own mark in the world, but doing it safely behind his adventurous sister.  Nobody was a stranger to Becky and no one could resist her smile and energy.  Michael loved his hugs – but only from people he knew. Becky liked to build relationships; Michael liked to build Duplo structures! Things haven’t changed all that much.  Becky still goes through life singing – although age and experience has tempered that some.  Michael is still cautious about who he lets in his life and still likes to build things.  Only now he likes to detonate them too!

While I was reviewing the videos I found one that captured my kids perfectly.  Becky was singing the song “Part of Your World” from the “Little Mermaid.”  Michael did his best to get in on the action; she was eight, he was two.   I have wanted to play around with adding a video to a blog, so I thought I would try it.  It was definitely a labor of love converting the old video to a digital format, but an experience I thoroughly enjoyed.  Watching ALL those home movies made me realize that I live a rich life, and am truly blessed to have so many wonderful people in my life.

TDY stands for Hagen Daz, Hot Dogs and Hippie Music

One of Mark’s first assignments after we got married was to Wiesbaden, Germany.  At that time it was just Mark and I, two big kids having the time of our lives sightseeing and eating our way through Europe and England.   We both worked, which allowed us to purchase many treasures to take back to the US. I was a writer for a community newspaper and Mark worked on a test and evaluation team that traveled a lot.

Once in a while, the editor encouraged the staff (all two of us) to take advantage of our creativity and write personal features so we would be more than just a byline to our readers.   After a series of particularly long assignments, where Mark was traveling stateside and throughout Europe, I was inspired to write the feature below.  It is, to this day, one of Mark’s favorite pieces.

The article contains a few acronyms, which may be unfamiliar to a reader with little or no exposure to military life.  I have defined them below.  The military is very good with acronyms. The state agency where I work almost beats them!

TDY –  Temporary Duty

MOS  – Military Occupation Specialties – Army uses the term to classify jobs

AFSC – Air Force Specialty Code – Air Force term used to classify jobs

Commissary – Grocery store run by the military

“Honey, guess what, I’m going on TDY again.”  Temporary duty, better known by the dreaded acronym, TDY, causes even the most experienced spouses to cringe when they hear those three letters. And depending on the AFSC (MOS for Army types,) A TDY can last a few days or a few months.  Mark is my husband.  His TDYs tend to last for months, not days.

TDYs can be a lonely, frustrating time for the person who’s left behind to take care of the home and family.  I manage to keep myself busy by working, taking classes, sightseeing and spending Mark’s and my hard-earned money. For those times that I do feel sorry for myself I have a dog and cat that are great listeners.

However, I do find there are some advantages to Mark’s TDYs.

When he takes off to one of his many distant and exotic locations like the Azores, I can revert back to my lazy, carefree bachelorette days when phrases like “nutritionally-balanced meals” and “honey, you’re snoring again,” were nonexistent in my vocabulary.

One of the first things I do to celebrate my temporary liberation from responsibility is to go to the commissary and buy enough macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, Hagen Daz chocolate-chip ice cream and Cheese Nips to last for the duration of Mark’s assignment.  For a little variety I call Domino’s Pizza and order a small pizza with mushrooms, pepperoni and green pepper (yes, Domino’s delivers, even in European resort towns!)

Another advantage to his TDY is I can listen to my music without constant commentary (usually negative) from Mark.  You see, I went to a liberal Midwest college, which still had one foot in the 60’s, (I started in 1980) and my taste in music reflects that.  My husband on the other hand was born, raised and educated in West Virginia. He doesn’t know the difference between the Grateful Dead and the Monkees, but he would be great on Jeopardy if they every produced a show about country musicians.  It’s a real treat for me to sit and listen to the Who sing “Boris the Spider” without comments regarding the speed at which the song was recorded.

Perhaps the biggest advantage to his temporary absence from our humble household is I don’t have to worry about keeping the house straight all the time!! As a single woman the least of my concerns was a neat home as was evident by the piles of books, newspapers or clothes strewn about my room or apartment. Mark is quite neat with a place for everything and everything in its place. In fact, Mark had the phrase “to keep the house clean while I’m on TDY” inserted in our wedding vows. So, while he’s gone I kick back and let the newspapers, magazines and clothes pile up around me while I enjoy several weeks worth of taped episodes of “LA Law.”  Over time I have discovered this is actually a very efficient way of keeping the house clean because my clutter covers the tables and rugs so dust and crumbs fall on the clutter. When I ready to clean I simply pick everything up and, TA-DA, a clean house! The animals love it because they find lots of little places between the papers and books to play hide and seek.

However, there is one disadvantage to this type of housekeeping; sometimes Mark surprises me and comes home early.  When this happens he just looks around, smiles and shakes his head. After staying in cheap motels and eating greasy food for eight weeks his home, no matter how clean or messy, looks awfully good.

My times as temporary bachelorette are fun, but it’s always nice to have Mark home.  At least when I tell him to stop snoring or roll over he doesn’t growl or scratch!

Fast forward 22 years:

1. For spouses who think (or hope,) that the traveling will stop once you enter civilian life, think again.  Mark continued to travel extensively for almost a 10 years after he retired from the Air Force.  The big adjustment for our family was when he STOPPED traveling.
2. Mark and I have reversed roles about housecleaning.  He’s a little more relaxed and I am now called the cleaning dictator.  I proudly raise my Swiffer duster and embrace my title!

Spamalot: A Knight to Remember – Twice

Tuesday was one of those rare evenings when the family chilled together enjoying one our favorite pastimes –watching a musical.  Mark and I love musicals and have happily passed this gene to our children.  I am proud to say that my children are very familiar with many of the old Roger and Hammerstein classics, and are eagerly absorbing as many of the “new classics” that our budget can afford. Tuesday’s selection was a repeat performance for us – Spamalot.  Our first encounter with Spamalot was a Broadway production during a visit to New York.  It was funny, irreverent and politically incorrect; Monty Python at its best.  We laughed so hard, we cried, bought the CD before we left the building, and memorized most of the songs on the car trip home back to North Carolina.  Five years later my kids and husband still belt out their favorite songs from the play (usually different songs at the same time!) So in the fall when I read that Spamalot was coming to Durham this spring, I knew that our family had a date with destiny!

Michael and I resurrected the old scratched CD and sang our favorite songs.  It skipped and jumped through some songs, but it didn’t matter, because we knew all the words anyway.  We laughed and reminisced about our trip to New York and threatened to be silly in a way that truly honors the humor of Monty Python. As the performance date approached Becky and Mark regularly threatened to break out in spontaneous singing during the musical.  John Cleese would be so proud of us!

Spamalot is one of my all-time favorite musicals not because of its theatrical “wow” factor, but because it makes all of us smile and sing.  Whenever I feel a little down I’ll pop in the old CD and my mood lifts immediately! The music and the plot are so over the top, I can’t help but laugh.  Truly, where else would you see flying cows, killer rabbits and a medieval king dancing with cheerleaders! Generally, my family doesn’t share the same tastes in music or comedy, but we all like Monty Python and we all love Spamalot. It unifies my family for a short time so we are all laughing and singing together – a rare treat because we are usually moving in different directions.

Coordinating logistics on a workday to make an evening performance 45 minutes across town was a herculean effort, but having everyone together for two hours of uninterrupted time was worth it.

My 50^th birthday is coming up in January.  I think that milestone deserves another road trip to the Big Apple and at least two more Broadway plays. Besides, I have to pick up another Spamalot CD.  It’s for the children you know.

While I usually like to include a dessert recipe at the end of my blog.  This time I had to include a Spam recipe.  I’m not a fan of Spam – at all – but I can tolerate this hot Spam sandwich.  I add mayonnaise to my sandwich.

Hot Spam Sandwich

Ingredients:
2 slices sandwich-size French or Italian bread
2 slices Spam, 1/2 inch thick
1 thick slice or two thin slices of American cheese
Sandwich spread optional

Directions:
Lightly butter the bread on one side, and grill in a hot skillet until golden. Put the bread on a plate toasted side up. Fry the Spam in butter, and place two slices, side by side on one slice of the bread. Top the Spam with the cheese and cover with the other piece of bread. Return the sandwich to the skillet and grill until both sides are golden. Serve warm.

A Sweet Tribute to Granny

I love desserts! I’m a firm believer that feeding the soul is just as important as feeding the mind and body. A sweet treat at the end of a meal, definitely feeds my soul. In fact, I may not always wait until the end of a meal to indulge. My devotion to desserts is not acquired; it is genetic.  I credit my Granny Egner for passing this sweet gene through my family tree.

Granny was a short Irish woman who liked to call herself “pleasingly plump. “  She loved to laugh, especially at herself. Her favorite part of any meal was dessert, and she made sure her tiny kitchen had enough cookies, pies and cakes to feed any army that would drop by her house at teatime.  My grandparents lived in downtown Toronto, Canada in a neighborhood filled with interesting restaurants decades before ethnic became chic.  Granny and Grandpa were dead ringers for Edith and Archie Bunker so they didn’t patronize exotic restaurants.   However, granny scoped out dining establishments with desserts, and she made sure they went to those as often as their modest budget would allow. Some of my fondest memories were accompanying her to tea in the majestic old-fashioned dining rooms at Simpson-Sears and Eaton’s. My sister and I always dressed in our best clothes. We felt very grown up and sophisticated sipping tea and eating deliciously decadent deserts.

The old dining rooms were eventually replaced with food courts and cafeterias.  Granny did not mourn their loss for long, and found other establishments that would satisfy her sweet tooth. After all, she couldn’t disappoint the grandchildren she would say with a wink and a smile. Her favorite eatery was an ice cream parlor called Farrell’s.  The restaurant was colorful, boisterous and over the top in their ice cream creations. Granny always ordered The Trough – a miniature pig trough filled with a zillion, bazillion ice creams flavors.  The staff would ring bells and run through the restaurant with great fanfare carrying the trough on a tray so large it required two waiters. They would set the monstrous creation in front of her, make a comment about how Winnie Egner was once again making a pig of herself at Farrell’s, then leave her to devour the ice cream.  My granny would beam from all the attention and ALWAYS say how she couldn’t eat it.  Somehow she managed to finish it every time.

While I joke about granny’s sweet treat gene, her influence on my life was profound.  She taught me it’s okay to laugh at myself, and to keep pity parties short because I might miss out on a lot of living otherwise.  She was a devoted mother, housewife and grandmother.  Granny was a firecracker who wasn’t afraid to cross a picket line or force a six-foot man to bend down so she could speak to him at HER eye level.  She finally admitted she was old at 93 and died at 104. I love desserts because, in part, those sugary treats remind of a woman I love and respect so much.

This week’s recipe is from one of granny’s cookbooks.  It’s yellow, tattered and stained, so I know it was one of her favorites. Granny, I raise my fork (holding a sweet treat of course,) and salute you for teaching me it’s okay to eat dessert before dinner.

Shortbread Cookies
The key to a really good shortbread cookie is timing the baking so the cookie is a light golden color (not light brown).  My granny’s cookies had a melt-in-your mouth quality.  Be prepared to ruin a batch or two until you get the timing just right.  This recipe makes a lot of cookies.

• 1 lb butter
• 1 cup sugar
• 5 cups All Purpose Flour

1. Cream the butter and gradually add the sugar.
2. Blend in the flour gradually (you may or may not use all of the flour depending on the humidity levels.)
3. Turn the dough out on a lightly floured board and knead slightly.  Roll out to ¼ thickness.
4. Use a 2-3-inch cookie cutter to cut cookies.
5. Bake at 300 F for 20-25 minutes.  Start checking the cookies at around 17 minutes.  Remove them from the oven when they are a light golden color.

Life’s Small Pleasures

Sometimes I feel like my life moves at the speed of light.  I hit the ground running at 5 a.m. and collapse in bed sometime around 10:30 AFTER I have threatened my two boys with bodily harm if they don’t stop acting like….well….boys. When I talk about my two boys I am referring to my son and my husband who is a kid in a grown up’s body.  My daughter used to be part of the trio of trouble, but she is away at college, so my two boys act up even more to make up for her absence.

While most days in my life feel like one of those teacup rides at amusement parks, once in a while God hands me  a wonderful gift where the day is so beautiful that I actually stop to enjoy it.  This last weekend was one of those gifts too beautiful to ignore. What started off as an attempt to discard the drab and dreary feeling of winter turned into two days of playing in the dirt, an adventure with my son and memories that I will treasure forever. What was the most interesting thing we found this weekend? A German gas mask from World War II.  What was the best part of the weekend?  Baking banana bread with my son on Saturday evening while we danced to Glen Miller!

Playing in the dirt is one of my favorite pastimes – one that I don’t get to do very often; this weekend I did.  For two days I dug holes, pulled roots and unearthed stones to plant three new rose bushes and give my older roses some much needed TLC.

I’m sure I’ll be hitting the Advil tonight, but this weekend has left me refreshed and ready to tackle a new week.  Who knows, if next weekend is warm and sunny I may start an herb garden and teach my guys to appreciate Bruce Springsteen.

In honor of my son who made this weekend so much fun, I’m including a recipe for a Three Musketeers Bar pie. This is one of his favorite recipes. In each blog I will try to dedicate a recipe to someone I mention in my blog because I love to share recipes.  Especially recipes that are tried and true.  There are several versions of this pie, but my favorite comes from Food.com.  Enjoy!

Three Musketeers Bar Pie

Ingredients

• 1 prepared 9-inch Oreo cookie pie crust
• 4 Three Musketeers candy bars or 16 Musketeers miniatures candy bars
• 2 envelopes unflavored gelatin
• 3/4 cup cold water
• 1 quart vanilla ice cream

Directions

1. Cut bars into small pieces.
2. Combine gelatin and cold water in a large saucepan; let soften for 5 minutes.
3. Add 3 Musketeers.
4. Heat slowly over very low heat, stirring constantly, until candy melts and gelatin dissolves.
5. Remove from heat.
6. Stir in ice cream until it is melted.
7. Place mixture over bowl partly filled with ice and water; stir occasionally until mixture is thickened.
8. Pour into prepared pieshell.
9. Chill 3 hours or until firm.