Any Last Words? (Of 2014, anyway...)

Today's mission in Asheville (should we choose to accept it) started out as a bit more of an...odyssey...than we envisioned. The idea was to drive a portion of the Blue Ridge Parkway and stop at a trailhead, for a hike Husband had selected based on its scenic vistas and...whatnot. (I confess I wasn't totally listening to the description--I was perfectly content to be the chauffeur, and let him act as the Cruise Director on this one...) The road itself was gorgeous--rising into the mountains, winding through forestland, dropping off steeply on one side with a breathtaking valley view. We happily twisted and turned for miles, admiring the grand displays of nature...right up until the moment we arrived at the locked gate that prevented us from proceeding further. "Road Closed" the sign firmly declared; we can only assume for icy conditions, as it rained quite a bit yesterday in the lower elevations.

Oh-kay...Plan B, anyone? We turned around and headed in the opposite direction, toward another option Husband had earmarked as a possibility. For this one we had to meander quite a ways along a narrow, snaky-curved, hilly, highway (I use the term extremely loosely)...which was actually pretty darn fun in the Forester. ("Look at me, I feel like one of those commercials about all the daring locations you can take your Subaru"...I might have been heard to gleefully exclaim...) One of the highlights might have been when we passed through a town called Bat Cave, North Carolina, making us all giggle. (I can only assume they're referring to the flying mammal... not the Caped Crusader...but who knows?) Fortunately, we found Chimney Rock open for business, so we climbed out of the car...craned our necks upward...and prepared to scale the namesake formation via many, m-a-n-y steps. And I've gotta say--burning calves and shaking quads notwithstanding--the landscape was absolutely worth it.

And--because, you know, we hadn't had enough walking for one day--we also traveled a trail leading to Hickory Nut Falls, one of the "tallest waterfalls on the East Coast". While no Niagara, it was lovely. Afterwards, although we were famished campers--um, make that "hikers"--we had one more destination to try and squeeze in: the WNC Nature Center. Here, we got to touch a large corn snake held by a keeper...and mostly stand and stare at tightly-curled animals snoozing away the chilly afternoon. It wasn't a complete loss--the cougars were at least posed majestically on the huge rocks in their enclosure, and the wolves were prowling restlessly (probably waiting for us to jump in and provide them lunch, now that I think about it...). But the black bears were being allowed to follow their natural patterns, and hibernate during the Winter (which makes them very smart creatures, as far as I'm concerned) so we'll have to visit them when they wake up in a couple of months.

By this time hunger had shifted to top-priority, so we traipsed back to Asheville in search of grub. It was about 3:00...and New Year's Eve...a fact that hadn't occurred to me when considering the whole "finding a relatively quick meal" thing. The first place we tried, which Husband had thought sounded inviting due to its philosophy of using fresh, local, "farm to table" ingredients, had devised a special, limited, exceedingly chi-chi bill of fare for the holiday. Um...no, thank you. Our second attempt informed us that the wait time would be 40-50 minutes. Sorry, we'll have passed out by then for sure. Finally we settled on a brewpub called Jack of the Wood that I'd actually researched online the night before--the menu seemed yummy without being either too "lowbrow bar eats" or "overly sophisticated haute cuisine". (Oh, and the beers were appealing, too, of course.) It was what you'd expect from such an establishment: low lighting, wooden tables and chairs, simple decorations. But our meal was AWESOME (and not just because we were starving, either). And after all, it would have been an egregious oversight to spend time in a town known for its independent beer production...and NOT sample the wares, right?

As for the remainder of our Big Celebration...I believe the boys fully intend to watch more of that silly sport where men throw an oblong ball and run into each other alot...Derek has announced that he will, in fact, need to be fed again tonight...and maybe, if we're feeling reeeeally crazy...we'll tune in to some Ryan Seacrest and friends. We need to make sure we get a good night of sleep so we can kick off the new year with (drum roll) another day of trekking. (Whew, are we wild and crazy, or what?) So, rah rah and all that jazz--So Long, 2014!

Funkytown, NC

As promised, after a grand total of approximately 36 hours at home, a still-fatigued-but-willing-to-push-through-the-fog Team WestEnders stowed their freshly refilled suitcases in the car for one more trip to close out 2014. This time we pointed ourselves west for just over 200 miles, to a little town called Asheville, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains. We'd heard a ton of recommendations about it already--and everyone who mentioned it included in the same breath, "Have you gone yet? You should really check it out!" So we caved to the...tourist pressure...and planned our very first excursion to WNC. (That would be "Western North Carolina", which I finally figured out after seeing it multiple times on signs and such along the way. Apparently, it's an official regional title kind of...thingie...)

And while I have to admit I found it a bit...wearing...to be back in a vehicle again so soon after surviving the Escape from Northern Virginia, (if that makes it sound like a battle...it absolutely IS...every damn time...) this trip was waaaaaay easier. First of all, it was only about 3 1/2 hours, which comparatively feels like a quick hop to us. Also: very little traffic to speak of...and totally uncomplicated highway navigation. At the outset, when he heard that we'd be taking the Subaru this time, Derek had declared in a totally dramatic, extra-loud complaining voice, "Mom's car? Oh nooo--that means no stopping to pee, no road drinks...NO FUN!" So before I get a completely undeserved reputation as a...Driving Dictator...let me state that we did, in fact, take a break to use the facilities...and (perhaps even more importantly) caffeinate the yawning person behind the wheel with a gallon or so of Diet Pepsi.

Upon entering the outskirts of the city, we stopped for lunch at an unassuming little delicatessen, where we all got tasty and satisfying sandwiches. Thus fortified, we felt ready for our...assault on Asheville (in a friendly, sightseeing sort of way, of course). Today's agenda was really just to park the car and traverse the town on foot, as the entire area encompasses no more than 10 blocks. Our only obstacle was the weather, which was colder and windier than we've come to expect from our Central North Carolina Wintertime norms. Even though Derek and Riley had (naturally) worn shorts, and I was the only one sensible enough to have donned my warm (ish) coat, we braved the conditions anyway--by walking briskly and popping into many, many shops during our self-guided exploration.

Fortunately, there was quite a lot to catch our attention--from the interesting architecture (lots of brick buildings, cool details worked into the stone, sculptures all over the place, murals on many walls) to the myriad of quirky boutiques and galleries to the diverse array of eateries and brewpubs dotting the landscape. For example, we stopped in at one store that sold nothing but crystals and gems. And--treasure trove for browsers--a used bookshop!Then...we accidentally wandered into a place that sounded potentially entertaining, called Octopus Garden...which Husband and I quickly ascertained was a...um..."smoke shop". Whoops! Cue our very hasty retreat! But our favorite had to be Mast General Store, stocked with everything from warm outdoor clothing to camping gear to cookware--and boasting an old-fashioned candy shop setup with barrels of loose sweets you could mix into bags and take home. The best of both worlds: useful...and F-U-N!

At this point the sun was setting, which we knew would only bring the temperature down further. And we were pretty much window-shopped out for the day. So we opted to locate our hotel, forage for food at a nearby grocery store, and do some well-deserved chillaxing for the evening. (Here I would like to state for the record that we did NOT partake of the offerings at Rocky's Hot Chicken Shack (soooo not making that up) where the neon sign outside proclaimed "Show some skin...it's Tatoosday!" I did mention it was a spirited little 'burb, yeah?)

So, as I've been sternly informed, "important Bowl Games are being televised"; therefore you can guess where the Male Posse is parked right about now. And that's fine--we'd better rest up, because today was only the introduction to our Asheville mini-vacation. Tomorrow--after partaking of the obligatory free breakfast, of course--we plan to hit the ground...well, not "running", but at least "hiking". That's right, watch out...mountains...we're coming for you! Okay, how about AFTER some sleep...and coffee...

A Strong Finish...

As if we hadn't already experienced heaps o' fun activities on our Maryland expedition...and weren't a tad loopy and tired because of it...Team WestEnders pushed through the entertainment overload to cram in just a few more social events before skedaddling southward. First we met some friends for lunch at a Greene Turtle location. (You know the restaurant I'm talking about, right? The ones with TV sets All. Over. The. Place. I'm not kidding--in our small alcove alone, we had THREE of them all to ourselves, each showing a different sports program. So the boys in attendance were utterly delighted and enthralled...and the grown ups could converse to their hearts' content...wait a minute...it's actually quite a brilliant and effective concept, now that I think about it...)

After approximately 3 hours of chatting (Yes, we do know how to run our mouths...) my crew took our leave to head over to my dad's house for one more evening of family bonding. On the schedule: a spirited football contest for the kiddos (which actually resembled more..."semi-organized running amok outside", but whatever...), a pizza dinner, and finally, a private screening of Guardians of the Galaxy. When the movie ended and it was time to go, the cousins all hugged one another with a cheerful, "See you in 6 months!" Whoa! That was...weird. I guess I haven't fully gotten used to the fact that we're really, truly...living several states away. But it's all good, because with this visit I called the inarguable "Tag, You're 'It'!"--so everyone is now charged with coming down to stay with us next time...ha! (Uh-oh...that also means I'd better get home and set up the guest bedroom...I'm on it!)

Then it was back to our borrowed beds for one more night, to spend a bit more time with our hosts (I know, that makes it sound like we're some sort of...Exchange Family...from the distant province of North Carolina. "Rare and exotic visitors from the southlands", that just about describes us, yeah? Or some such nonsense...) Anyway, after breakfast the next day we bid them farewell...in order to drive all of a half-hour for a coffee date with some of my interpreter friends from my former job. There was java (mmmm), there were stories, there was catching up on...stuff. At last, it was time to get on the road in earnest. (After all, the dreaded beast known as "Northern Virginia" had yet to be conquered, in order for us to safely arrive home...you understand now why the extra caffeine was absolutely necessary?)

I'd have to say that all in all this was a jam-packed, super-fun and wildly successful foray into our previous homeland. We got to meet up with a lotta friends, do a whole bunch of socializing, and enjoy ourselves immensely. (Heck, I didn't even freeze my patootie off this time--BONUS!) And now, we're just going to kick back, sit around on the couch, and commence relaxing for the next week of vacation.....hahahahahaha! Just kidding! We're breezing into the house, resting up as much as possible for 24-hours. tackling the mounds of laundry, reloading the suitcases, and rolling out on Tuesday morning for our next adventure. Speaking of which, if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure my toothbrush got tucked back into my luggage...stay tuned for Tales from Asheville!

Maryland...did you miss us?

So, here we are...almost exactly one year after Team WestEnders traveled south for their scouting trip to Chapel Hill, to determine whether it seemed like a good spot to replant ourselves...and also almost exactly 6 months since we went ahead and made the major relocation. It was now time to storm the Maryland border--um "make our first pilgrimage back as a family"--for an extended holiday visit. I had returned alone in November for Thanksgiving, but this would be the Male Posse's initial foray into the north as...tourists...if you will.

Being home-base-less, we arranged to stay with some friends who were kind enough to provide the 4 of us room and board for a few days. After surviving the Interstate 85/95 "commute", we were rewarded with a lovely Christmas Eve dinner when we arrived...after all, food and fellowship are certainly implied in the whole "peace on Earth, goodwill to man "spirit of the season", right? Then it was time for the proverbial long Winter's nap...to rest up for a full day of...festive mayhem...at my dad's house. (Mostly fueled by the phenomenon that shall be known as "Cousin Craziness"...) There was brunch...there was lots of playing-outside-time (taking advantage of the mild day)...in general, there was much merriment all around.

But did the celebrating stop there? Oh nooooo, there was still plenty more to come. Today's agenda was "cruise the old hometown". As we drove to the place where my kids were born and spent their entire lives up until the move, we took in the scenery, noting the changes that had occurred in our absence. Nearing the actual neighborhood where our former house stands, Derek suddenly exclaimed, "It's so weird, coming back but not living here!" (I hear ya, son--I felt the same way just a month ago...)

There was no time to sit around and reminisce, however, as we were set to meet the boys' soccer coach and his family for lunch...at our previously-favorite restaurant in town. After a delightful couple of hours catching up with them, we had a somewhat cobbled-together plan for Derek to reunite with several of his school buddies in a nearby park to hang out for a while. The rest of us took a stroll down our old street for a nostalgic glimpse of the previous homestead...and since it was such pleasant weather again, some of Riley's pals were enjoying the outdoors...and were veeerrrry surprised to see him jogging up the road. Finally, we made one more stop, to check in with yet another soccer teammate and his family.

And then...We. Were. Toast. A couple of late nights in a row, and a tornado of socializing--all of it super-fun and absolutely not-to-be-missed, of course--have left us a wee bit...exhausted. (For an indication of our energy level: on the first car jaunt today, everyone except the driver snatched a little snooze...on the way back, Riley nodded off AGAIN!) So we made the unanimous decision to return to our borrowed HQ...and just commence relaxing for the rest of the evening. Because tomorrow, there's a whole 'nother day of hoopla on the calendar, and we want to be back up to fighting speed...I mean "rested and ready to make the most of the next event". For now, showers and pjs sound just about perfect...peace out and sweet dreams....zzzzzz

I've found myself! (At least for now...)

Just a couple hundred yards or so from our house lies one unspectacular--in fact practically unmarked and invisible--entrance to the Carolina North Forest. This piece of land, owned by UNC, is open for public use by walkers, runners, and bikers. From a great deal of personal experience over the past 6 months of exploring, it seems absolutely vast. There are so many dirt tracks winding, crossing, and overlapping among the trees--some with signs, while others...not so much--and a myriad of choices you can make along the way...that it reminds me of one of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books I used to read as a kid. Except in this case, picture it more as "turn left here, and you'll end up at Derek's high school" (Yes, this actually happened) or "go straight up the hill, cross the creek, take several more little trails that look inviting...end up lost until almost dark...and tiptoe your way through someone's back yard (waving politely, "Don't mind me, I'm not here to steal anything, ta ta!") to finally escape the damn trees". (Oh yeah, this has been the Story of my Walk...more than once...)

Really, though, it's a somewhat magical place for several reasons: 1) the serenity and silence that prevail and 2) the perverse thrill of never knowing whether you'll actually see your home again, or if they'll have to send out a search party for you as you wander, utterly and completely directionless, through the @$%&amp landscape where all the plant life looks the same. (I mean, it's lovely, really...and would be even more appealing with some adorable arrows...gently, humanely attached to the precious greenery, pointing travelers the right way. I'm just saying...)

In truth, I should know better than to just plow off willy-nilly into...nature...given my rather dubious history of...failed orienteering, if you will. You see, when I was in Middle School I experienced that wonderful entity called Outdoor Education--one week out of the school year in which they shipped the entire 6th grade class off to a camp, to live in rustic cabins, learn about our environment, work cooperatively to complete chores...and stuff. One of the first exercises involved being split into teams, given a compass, (Ha! like I knew what the heck to do with THAT?) dropped off at a "starting point" and instructed to (Are you ready for this?) find our way back by dinnertime. What the WHAT? (Note: how likely is this to happen in today's world? Not. A. Freaking. Chance. I seem to recall having a Counselor with us...that would be what you'd also refer to as a "High School Student". But no "teacher-type person". It was all kinds of nuts...)

Anyway, all I really remember clearly about this (my brain having obviously suppressed the most traumatic bits) is that my little gang of misfits wandered about...for hours...and never managed to find the elusive "path back to camp". Eventually we stumbled upon a road--the kind that cars use, not hikers--and plopped ourselves down to await our rescue....which arrived via a pickup truck sent to retrieve us for the evening meal. We were informed later that our inept navigation had unwittingly steered us quite close to the border of Camp David...uh huh, the Presidential Retreat. (Now, I don't know if this is strictly true, or an embellishment on the part of the speaker to lend an air of intrigue to our otherwise ordinary misadventure...but I like it, so it stays in the tale...)

So, you can see why I developed a belief early on that I lack a certain...personally-wired GPS, let's say. Like my mother, I'm much more tuned to landmarks ("Turn right after the 7-11"..."It's the house with the huge rosebushes out front"--these make perfect sense to me...) but couldn't tell you...EVER...which way is north. ("Head west on Main Street?" You might as well say it in Swahili for all the good it'll do me...) Therefore, you can appreciate the fact that every instance of what should be a pleasant, simple stroll in the forest...could very well be fraught with all kinds of peril.

At times, I've chosen to stick to the beaten path, following a straight line, then turning around and retracing my steps exactly in reverse to where I started...thereby severely limiting the chance for a major screwup, of course. On other days I've impulsively decided to take this fork or that one, hoping that eventually I'll blunder my way back to--ahem...."skillfully locate"--the road near my house. Over many excursions, some regular routes have become familiar, and I can repeat them whenever I want. I'm also beginning to build a basic visual memory of some areas, so at least I recognize whether I'm sort of where I want to be, or...hopelessly misplaced.

Then, my latest trek gave me hope, that I may not be irredeemably directionally-challenged after all. With only about an hour until dark, I set off down a trail I've taken before. Although I knew it may not be wise, I had the urge to go off on a tangent after a while...so I chose a...left-ish option...and continued on my merry way (Literally, as I was listening to a holiday playlist at the time). Since I'd gone and jumped the track anyway, I made several more selections that I believed would lead me in a circular manner back towards the primary path. Unlike in previous trials, however, this time when I turned, my brain immediately noted "The road is now behind you" or "You're moving parallel to the street where your house is". (And, occasionally the annoying but useful "Recalculating" when I was forced to choose a less-than-ideal trajectory...sigh...)

I was noticing the deepening dusk, but steadfastly refusing to worry about it just yet...when I emerged from the treeline...at the very well-known juncture of: Chapel Hill High School. So not only did I know precisely where I was, but I had looped around exactly as planned, to rejoin the main trail. (Picture me doing the Happy Hiker Dance while crowing "Halllllleluuuuujah!!" to the heavens...'cuz that totally happened....) I can't even tell you how pleased I was with myself right about then. Call off the team of tracking dogs; I don't need them today, thank you very much! In fact, if this was a test, I think I aced it...just promise you won't ask me if my house is south, or east, or whatever, from here, because I still haven't the foggiest idea!

Perhaps I should just talk to MYSELF....

Sometimes, in my house, we have lovely conversations where we discuss things that are important to us, share our thoughts, and interact in a meaningful and personal way. And then....there are ridiculous exchanges such as the following, which have all taken place recently among me and the boys:

Riley (out of absolutely NOWHERE): "Mom, why'd you marry Dad?" (thoughtful pause) "Was it because of looks...or was that not a consideration at all?"
Woooooow! Congratulations, honey--you simultaneously managed to embarrass your mother with an awkward inquiry...and I think you unintentionally insulted your father, as well. After floundering mentally for a second or two, I thankfully did rally enough to cobble together what I thought was a reasonable PG reply, about how when you meet someone, you can be attracted to them initially...so you want to spend more time with them...and along the way you get to know each other better...which eventually may lead to falling in love, blah blah blah. He seemed okay with all of this, and fortunately moved right along to the next potential whirlwind brewing in that 11-year old brain of his...whew, safe...for now...

Next we have the teenage mischief of Derek. As he gets older, he's exercising his talent for sarcasm more and more often. (I know, right? Where in the world does he get THAT? It's a total mystery, I tell ya...) For example, when we were trimming our tree a few weeks ago, he came across our collection of annually-released ornaments from the White House Historical Society. Selecting one specific decoration and holding it aloft with great ceremony he proclaimed, "I'm going to put this one right in the exact center of the tree, so everyone will see it! Do you think that will be appreciated?"

I leaned around the evergreen to see which one he was referring to...the replica of a book...with Abraham Lincoln...you know, "The Great Emancipator"...on the cover. His eyes took on a devilish gleam as he mused, "Well, we ARE technically in the south, right? I wonder how they feel about him down here?" (Slapping forehead...sighing...) First of all, sweetie, we're not really in the...ahem..."Heart of Dixie"...here in Chapel Hill. Secondly, whattya say you use your considerable powers for good....rather than...rabble rousing, hmm? (In other words, let's not deliberately attempt to stir up trouble with the neighbors...the ones with whom we're just getting acquainted. After all, we're planning to be here for a while...and we'd rather not start out as "Those Damn Yankees"!)

Finally, there was tonight's dinner chat. I served the quinoa and spinach dish I'd prepared, prompting Riley to briefly, half-jokingly complain that it wasn't his favorite--he really prefers the other quinoa meal with corn and black beans. I responded as you'd expect--that he was perfectly welcome to leave the table at any time and thereby miss out on the food. This of course had the desired effect, causing him to sit down and dig in...and also randomly start singing some sort of...quinoa...ditty that he was evidently inspired to compose on the spot. This is what ensued:

Me: "Oh dear, Riley's getting his second wind."
Dead. Silence. I was turned away, busy with something else, but Husband had the vantage point to catch the boys' perplexed expressions, which led him to ask, "Do you know what that means?"
Riley (tentatively): "Um...you fart...twice?"
Derek (exploding with enthusiasm): "That's what I thought, too! But I couldn't figure out why Mom would say it!?"
Husband was laughing too hard to be remotely helpful at this point, naturally. So even though it was...unwise...at best, I tried to clarify, "No, no, no, it's like...renewed energy, after you've been really tired."
And NOW Husband chose to chime in with, "Whaaaaat? Nude energy?"
Derek (practically bouncing with excitement): "That's what I heard, also!" He then added, with a wicked grin, "Mom, you really have to enunciate better!"
Oh. Good. Grief. Tell me again, why do I bother? At this point there was nothing else to do but assume my haughtiest air, turn on my heel, and march from the kitchen with as much dignity as possible. And retreat to the non-male-infested sanctuary of my bedroom...to chronicle the silliness.

Perhaps I'll try to resume speaking to the Testosterone Trio...tomorrow...

Oh, the weather outside is...eh, not so bad...

So, it's the first day of the kids' loooong Winter Break. (2 full weeks, this year...is it just me, or does that seem kind of, I don't know...crazy-excessive? I mean, I know they work hard at school, blah blah, blah, but do their brains really require that much of a rest? Ohhhh...maybe it's the teachers that need a well-deserved breather from our little darlings...never mind, that makes perfect sense...) And would you believe, it actually FLURRIED here this morning, to mark the occasion? Mind you, not even long enough for me to photograph the situation to prove that I'm not making this up, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

Just 24-hours from the solstice, it feels authentically cold, damp, and raw outside...fortunately, this seems to be the exception, rather than the rule. So far the extensive climate intel I gathered prior to making the big move has held up. Specifically, the temperatures drop overnight to within a few degrees (plus or minus) of the freezing point. (Thus I throw on a light coat when leaving the house for my first round of errands...and whatnot.)

Then by about 10 a.m. it has warmed up to 50* or more, (meaning my jacket takes its place on my passenger seat, where it remains until I hang it back up at home again...) where it remains fairly steady until the sun starts to set. There was even a day last week when I drove someplace, parked my car in a sunny lot for a couple of hours while I walked around and took care of what I needed to, then had to roll down the windows when I returned, because it was too warm inside. (This is NOT a complaint....it was a rather delightful surprise for mid-December...)

Some people might scoff at this mild version of the traditionally frosty season...and as far as I'm concerned, they're perfectly welcome to all the snowy, icy, blustery...stuff...they can handle. Call me a Weather Wimp (sure, go ahead, I won't be offended...because it's totally TRUE...see how I even capitalized it, like an honorary title...or some such nonsense?) but I'm much happier consorting with Old Man Winter's kinder, gentler persona. The great outdoors has definitely assumed the visual characteristics of December--barren trees, shriveled lawns, remnants of shredded leaves still scattered over the ground. It's just...not so frigid as we're used to from our experiences in Maryland.

And I'm not the only one appreciating all the non-arctic...ness, let me tell you. Husband took a hiatus from his late-morning meetings a couple of days ago to go running...in shorts. When he came back, he was both sweaty...and gleeful. Even Derek (you know, the one who was most opposed to being dug up and transplanted) admitted that it's nice being able to play outside while not only forgoing outerwear and gloves, but wearing shorts and tee shirts...with the added bonus of NOT having his hands flake and peel like they used to when constantly exposed to cold, dry air.

So I suppose we're about to officially enter into our third season, and first Winter, as North Carolina residents. People who have lived here longer than us claim that some years, the weather begins a warming trend as early as February. Furthermore, they tell us that sometimes the Spring-like pattern just...decides to stick around...once it shows up. Now, that's the kind of meteorological miracle I could firmly get behind. Forget the shortest-day-of-the-year, let's start the Countdown to Spring, right now! (Okay, right, maybe AFTER Christmas and the New Year...but definitely then! Whoo hoo!)

A Rare Monday Field Trip

Yesterday was another one of those spectacular-December-weather, "Dude, I could soooo get used to this" days, so I felt the undeniable itch to take my camera and go enjoy the great outdoors somewhere. High on my "Touristy To-Do List" was a little town not too far from here called Hillsborough. (I know, right--doesn't it just sound quaint and cute?) We had recently traveled near, but not precisely into, the vicinity of it when going hiking one weekend. I already knew that it served as the county seat, but further research revealed that it was founded in 1754 and adopted its current name in 1766. It boasts a historic district, an original Federal-era plantation house one can visit, and a greenway known as Riverwalk that winds through the forest along the Eno River. Yep, sounds like my kinda place!

It takes no more than 20 minutes to drive from our house to the parking garage at the very head of the Riverwalk trail...and by that time I already was able to shed the light coat I'd brought along "just in case". With the sun shining in a cloudless sky and no breeze to speak of, it felt even warmer than the 57* registered by my car's thermometer. (And I'm sorry if it seems like I keep repeating this, but I can't emphasize enough how much lighter and happier I feel when I'm not freezing all the time. Being able to frolic outside in December without a parka and gloves...it simply makes me a much more cheerful person, I'm tellin' ya...) So I set off on foot into the woods, on a nice paved path adjacent to the body of water for which it's named. At this particular point, the Eno seems more like a stream...but a merrily flowing, at times energetically bubbling one nonetheless.

I passed many intersections while navigating the central route--alternate trails that forked off into the trees in various directions. Although I didn't have time to investigate immediately, I strongly suspect future exploratory visits will occur...with the male posse in tow. Also, if you travel along it far enough, the Riverwalk supposedly joins a nearby State Park, with even more opportunities for outdoor play. While I admit it may not have been the most exciting stroll--as Derek seems to want these days--it was lovely and peaceful and pleasant, and I personally had all of my nature needs met.

Then I moved on to walking the main street through the center of town...all 4 or 5 blocks of it. Adorable brick-front shops and restaurants, several impressive Colonial-looking churches with soaring spires...and of course the requisite centuries-old cemetery. (And don't ask ME why I have such a strange fascination with gravestones....'cuz I have no idea...) In this one--I shouldn't have been surprised, but I didn't think to expect it--there were many references to the inhabitants having ties to the "CSA". Incidentally, there were many small banners placed next to headstones, bearing a design I didn't recognize as either the American flag or the familiar Confederate version.

Once again, God bless Google, who informed me that this rendition was the original emblem of the Confederacy, with the stars representing seceded states. The one that we typically associate with the south was actually the battle flag. (See, I'm not just goofing off...these little jaunts are educational! And I do so loooove learning stuff!) Anyway, the most notable dignitaries buried there were a former senator (last name of Graham) and William Hopper, a signer of the Declaration of Independence.

After I had finished treading lightly on people's final resting spots, I made my way to the last site on my list: Ayr Mount. This mansion, built in 1815, is reportedly restored to authentic period-era glory both inside and out. Alas, you can't tour it on Mondays. Oh well....you are, however, welcome to meander the grounds, including a 1-mile Poet's Walk that loops around the property, offering scenic views along the way. More pounding the pavement...er "dirt"...sure, why not? As a bonus, I got to indulge my OTHER photographical obsession, which happens to involve capturing reflections in water. (Yes, I'm fairly easily amused, so what?)

So...I got to appreciate and fully take advantage of a gorgeous day...I logged about a bazillion steps (just a rough estimate, of course)...and I soaked in some historical knowledge...and whatnot. Altogether a very fulfilling day...of ducking my responsibilities!

Cheers!

Many...many years ago, when I was a young, carefree, wild (well...not reeeeally...maybe more like "somewhat rowdier than I am in the present") Single Woman, I started a yearly tradition--one that lives on to this day. Way back when, I hosted my first Holiday Party, inviting all of my friends to my teeny apartment for some yuletide fun. In its inception, this shindig involved freely-flowing adult beverages, copious amounts of snacks, and everyone helping me to decorate my Christmas tree. It quickly became apparent, however, that perhaps the aforementioned...ahem...."spirits of the season" did not exactly facilitate decking the halls in the classy, stylish manner I desired. In fact, for several years in a row, I spent post-party day rearranging all of the ornaments into what I considered to be a more aesthetically pleasing design. (But that could just by my Type A personality overriding the festive...chaos...of the finished tree....whatever, it had to be done...)

So then--I honestly can't remember whose brilliant idea this was--it was decided that the group's...artistic energy...should be channeled into a more productive avenue: baking and icing Noel-inspired sugar cookies. In theory, this was a truly inspired plan, to keep people busy and achieve yummy treats at the same time. But...hmm...wait a minute...now we have revelers who are fueled by libations...while riding a sky-high sugar rush at the very same time...yep, can anyone say "recipe for disaster"? To be fair, some of the creations turned out to be extraordinarily inventive and colorful...and others just fell into the "not for viewing without signed permission slip" category. (Oh, yeah...GOOD times...)

Then (alas) we grew up a little, and began to acquire spouses--which, come to think of it, didn't really calm the annual fiesta down even one little bit. We just...stopped indulging our inner Betty Crocker, and instead switched to a nice potluck format. (Yes, I know that makes it sound so...mature and decorous...trust me, it wasn't...) Finally, though, little people arrived to join in the frolicking. (Actually, we can be blamed for this trend, if you will, as Derek was the first munchkin born to our merry band.) And for a period of time in those years, the focus of adorning the tree became "how far up to safely place the breakable ones"...and precious social time was punctuated by such necessities as feeding hungry kids, or chasing those who were getting into something they shouldn't, or figuring out where one had could possibly have vanished within the house...

Fortunately, we weathered these early storms, and eventually the offspring got to the point that they would arrive, say hello, then disappear together to play as their own group. It was almost as if there were two separate events occurring--one for the grownups, another for the minors...although all of the attendees would occasionally meet in the kitchen to refill a cup or grab some sustenance. These recent get-togethers were actually the ones I found most relaxing; after the flurry of preparing and setting up, all I really had to do was welcome old friends into my home...and mingle.

And then the lovely routine, which had just become so easy and enjoyable, got thrown on its head when we uprooted ourselves and moved. Obviously, 5 hours would be a smidge too far for even our most ambitious Maryland buddies to travel...even for a time-honored WestEnders gala. But sometime in the Fall, after we'd been here a few months, Husband suddenly asked, "Are we going to throw an Open House in December this year?" I was...startled, as the notion honestly hadn't crossed my mind. I couldn't immediately come up with a valid reason not to, though, so I answered with a tentative "Um....I guess so?"

After I agreed...and had a bit of time to think about it...the stress hit. Aaargh! We haven't met that many people--what if no one wants to come? And...I don't have anyone's phone number or email address, how will I invite them? And...and...what should I serve to eat? Plus, what if everyone here hates the kind of food I've always bought for these things in the past? Also...what if I make too much, or too little, and they get the immediate impression that I'm a terrible hostess? Speaking of which, what if there are some unspoken, very serious and critically important North Carolina rules pertaining to parties, and I break one of them, and the whole neighborhood shuns me...forever? (You see what happens when I have idle hours to ponder...stuff? I can work myself into quite an impressive...and ridiculous...tizzy, I tell ya...)

Once I finished the requisite freak-out, took a deep breath, and formulated a plan of action, I felt much better. First I printed out flyers and put them in the mailboxes of a few neighbors that we do know. Next I settled on a menu and raided Costco for supplies. Finally, I made lists (as I am wont to do) of exactly what needed to be accomplished and when, to help ensure that everything went smoothly. And you know what? It all worked out just fine. Most of the invitees did manage to stop by for at least a while. Guests seemed to enjoy the edibles. There was an abundance of lively, friendly conversation. I didn't get any kind of vibe that I'd violated a secret holiday-gathering-taboo (Whew! What a relief...) Husband and I got to meet the parents of some of Derek's and Riley's friends they've been talking about since the beginning of the school year, which was a bonus. To top it off, it was a delightful 60* day--which meant not only that I didn't have to corral coats, but also that the kids could take advantage of the weather and play outside for a good portion of the afternoon.

So, I think it's safe to conclude that we're keeping the tradition alive...just a few hundred miles to the south. Having successfully concluded our first Chapel Hill Holiday Open House, I can kick back, chill...and chow down on some of the mounds of cookies left by our new friends. After all, nothing quite says "celebrate the season" like a nice, post-festivity sugar coma...zzzzz.....

Maybe I'll Meet a McDreamy? (One Can Hope...)

The hunt for gainful employment continues unabated--in fact, this week I even applied for a couple of open positions that sounded reasonably interesting at that other...4-letter...School That Must Not Be Named. While I wait (although definitely NOT holding my breath, as I have learned from recent experience that one can only expect to be contacted if there is a firm interview offer...and I imagine prospective bosses prefer to meet with LIVE candidates...but I digress....) I sometimes stumble upon offbeat possibilities that warrant a closer look. Case in point: UNC posted an entry on its website in search of...Standardized Patients.

I had actually heard of this gig from a friend who has been doing it for several years, with schools in the D.C./Baltimore area such as Georgetown and Johns Hopkins. She described it as usually interesting, sometimes entertaining, and pretty easy money, pretending to be a sick person for med students to practice their exam and diagnostic skills. So when the university 3 miles from my house advertised that they needed guinea pigs--um, "paid, amateur actors"--for their program, I figured "Why not? It could be a hoot!" Besides, filling out an application costs nothing but time, so I went ahead with it. A few weeks later, I got an email informing me that they would be holding an informational seminar for prospective-fake-patients. If I still wished to be considered, I'd need to attend the meeting...and be ready to demonstrate the attached Test Case for an evaluator.

"Oh, sure, I can do that," I thought. So I memorized the details of the scenario and--not really knowing what to expect--steeled myself mentally for the intake process. As for that: first there was the presentation of facts about how the department works. (Yes, it's an actual, permanent fixture of the school.) As a teaching university, UNC obviously has a LOT of call for their future physicians to work on their craft...you know, before they have to actually deduce what's wrong with a person who's in front of them writhing in agony...or bleeding profusely...or suffering a seizure...or what have you...oh yeah, and then decide how to best treat them. During our session (which incidentally is completely non-invasive, and also fully-clothed, unless you explicitly agree beforehand to participate in a gown-wearing situation) we pseudo-patients would be responsible for accurately and completely relaying all of the relevant points for our specific ailment. But here's the trick: without embellishing, or adding our own "spin"...and all the while providing responses only when asked the right questions by the doctors-in-training.

Then when it's over, we're supposed to complete a feedback form, rating the student on various aspects of their exam--including such concrete factors as their thoroughness and perceived competence, as well as the less-tangible but ever-so-important "bedside manner". Each time we accept an assignment, we'll need to undergo a targeted training group related to whatever particular complaint we'll be portraying. Then on the actual day of the students' assessments, we sign up for a block of time, and may end up running through the same script 5 or 6 times with different people.

Once this was all made clear by our assigned interviewer, one other girl and I each had a chance to role play our prescribed vignette one-on-one with him. Besides being extremely relieved when the interrogation was over, I felt fairly confident afterwards that I hadn't omitted anything crucial...but I was even more pleased when Mr. Doc-for-a-Day told both of us that he rarely encountered anyone who recalled as many of the details as we had. (That's right, giving each other thumbs up and patting ourselves on the back...) Furthermore, he felt secure in recommending us for hire, and we should be hearing from the Department Head in January about getting scheduled for some upcoming cases.

So...whoo hoo! I'm gonna be a Standardized Patient, doing my part to help improve the world's future healthcare providers....for fun and profit. Bring on the (simulated) unexplained abdominal discomfort, the (totally fictional) breathing difficulties, the deep gashes (on attachable prosthetic pieces of skin) requiring sutures. Here's a long-awaited opportunity to nurture my extraordinarily under-utilized dramatic side...all for the advancement of science...and some pocket change...of course!

Walking in the Woods

After a cyclone of household chores yesterday--including both the fun and rewarding (setting up and decorating the Christmas tree) and the tedious and unlikable (cleaning) we had a blessedly free Sunday to get into trouble...um "do something enjoyable as a family". It was also another delightful 50-ish, sunny day in December, too good to waste sitting around inside watching football on TV (says the one person on Team WestEnders who despises that particular sport).

So I took it upon myself to find us a decent hike for an alfresco afternoon. I believed I'd hit upon a likely candidate--not too far away, attractive-sounding environs, with a lovely lake serving as the centerpiece. I ran it by Husband, got his thumbs-up, and we were all set...until I shared the proposal with the boys. (Yeah, my mistake. It momentarily slipped my mind that dictators don't ask their subjects for approval...duh!) I got no further than, "So, we're thinking about going hiking..." That's when Derek broke in with, "Okay, fine...as long as it involves something other than walking around another stupid body of water. Forests, lakes...bor-ing! I'm tired of that; I want to...climb up a mountain...or something different.

Oops. Alrighty, then, back to the proverbial drawing board...or "Google" as it shall be known. It actually didn't take long at all to hit upon another option, slightly further afield, but with an abundance of trails of various lengths, and the big selling point: an enormous rock formation, upon which the boys could presumably clamber about like the part-mountain-goats they are. When I went into Derek's room at about 8:45 this morning to apprise him of the revised agenda, this is how the conversation went:

Me: "You win, Mr. I-Don't-Wanna-Look-At-Another-Lake, we're dragging you to Raven Rock today."
D: (sleepily, still lying in bed) "Oh? What's there?"
Me: (slightly stumped, but willing to make stuff up...I mean "improvise") "Well...rocks, of course! And, um...some sort of...scenic overlook that you can climb to, so you can see...pretty landscapes...and whatnot."
D: (stretching lazily) "Okay, sounds good. Is it in Durham?"
Me: "No, it's about an hour south of here."
D: "An HOUR!" (Barely a pause to take his next breath...) "Will we be getting lunch?" (Now recall, if you will, that this is before he has even seen fit to remove his adolescent butt from the warm confines of his blankets...)
Me: (dropping forehead into hands, shaking head resignedly...too exasperated to try and formulate a response...)
Derek: (enthusiastically, quite proud of himself) "Wait, I haven't even had breakfast yet, and I'm already thinking about my next meal...that's the kind of planner I am!"
Me: (siiiiiiighhhhh....)

On that note, I exited his room to go prepare for the excursion--which mostly encompassed figuring out the appropriate number of layers and types of items to wear...and packing copious amounts of snacks for the ravenous explorers, of course. Then we set off to discover the wilds...of central North Carolina, anyway. Through "historic Pittsboro" (don't blink, it's that tiny), "not much to speak of Sanford", and a great deal of...absolutely nothing at all...the 55-mile drive was peaceful and pleasant.

The park itself, as promised, offers multiple options for wandering. For this, our first visit, we chose the namesake trail, and strode into the woods in search of...a big-ass pile of some undetermined type of stone. As always, we enjoyed traipsing through the Great Outdoors, stopping along the way for some nice views of the Cape Fear River before we reached our destination, the aforementioned geological entity named for the black birds that used to nest on its pinnacle. In the end, it did not disappoint--a hulking, solid mass that hung forbiddingly overhead, dwarfing all of us with its presence. And, naturally, the male posse felt the undeniable compulsion to scale whatever portion of it they could reach without breaking their necks. So everyone's needs were met.

Altogether, a satisfactory Sunday hiking experience was had by all. And with all of the available paths in this particular location, I suspect we'll be returning sooner rather than later. Fingers crossed for some more 50* days in the coming months...after another Costco run to replenish field trip eats for the teenager, of course!

Do you wanna build a...oops, never mind....

There's nothing like spending time in the wintry north to make you appreciate coming back to a warmer climate. Yes, I do realize that's phrased a bit...dramatically...since my family does NOT live in, say, the North Pole...or, um...Buffalo...or the like. It's only Maryland, for crying out loud, but I shivered my way through my 4-day visit anyway. (Says the person who dons a sweater until the thermometer reads about 80 balmy degrees...hey, I'm just practicing for when I'm a little old lady, and I'll be rocking the fleece jackets in July...)

Fortunately, I haven't forgotten how to pile on the clothes, so I brought toasty warm undergarments and sweatshirts and a coat and gloves. (I don't do scarves, since it bugs me to have something around my neck...and hats are just right out, with the double issue of "flat hair" and "bangs in my eyes". Oh, and I have a habit of delaying the wearing of ANY items on the short list of Johna-approved-cold-weather-gear for as long as comfortably possible, preferring to live in the happy-but-chilly state of...Seasonal Denial...until the last minute. So yeah, my concession to Winter is pretty limited, as a whole. And by the way: wow, do I know how to digress, or what?) But all of the...sartorial complications...notwithstanding, I have to admit that I did enjoy the picturesque quality of a light dusting of  snow on the ground--probably all the more because I knew I'd be getting the heck away from it very shortly.

Then I returned to North Carolina--where we've only lived for about 5 months now, thus we have not yet experienced firsthand what the frosty months are like around here. Longer-term residents assure me that while the temperature does drop overnight, it creeps back up to a reasonable level during the day (that ever-so-magical 5-0). More importantly, the cold snaps that do occur don't tend to linger endlessly...and I'm promised that occasionally, random 70* days just pop up, which keeps the frigidity from becoming too monotonous. And what do you know: I was welcomed back (yes, ME, personally) by a pretty nice Sunday, followed by a spectacular 72* Monday, December 1st. I'm talking about driving with the car windows cracked, opening the house for a few hours to allow some fresh air to waft in, wearing shorts and tee-shirts (well, you know, for the male creatures in our family...I went with "lighter pants and a long-sleeved running top"....I'm not gonna get all crazy and whatnot...but at least I ditched the second layer, right?)

The boys jumped at the opportunity to shoot some hoops and run football routes in the front yard--and I think Riley even rode his bike for a while--all things they do year-round anyway, but this time without worrying about the tingling hands and potentially-frostbitten ears they normally have to manage. Husband and I both took the opportunity to go running...and here's where it got a bit...strange...for me. I waited until late afternoon for my training session (as is my custom, since my body seems to prefer that point in the day, at least when it comes to pounding the pavement). So, then I queued up a festive, boppy holiday playlist on my phone...and took off through the neighborhood...not quaking with the cold, but rather, working up a pleasant sweat in the evening air. The final element in the surreal scenario was that--because darkness crashes down so early in these last few weeks before the solstice--I got to be entertained by the sparkly, twinkly December decorations turning on all around me, activated by their sensors picking up the fading light of dusk.

Yeah, it was definitely not what I'm used to, given the fact that almost every Winter prior to this, I chose to take a hiatus from running when the mercury dropped below my comfort level (and yes, I readily accept that "Anything less than 50* is too cold" makes me a super-wimp...and I'm totally okay with that...). But that's one reason we moved here, for the milder Winters, so I can absolutely get into this groove. (And...run with it....hahahaha! Sorry...) For now, I've relegated my coat and gloves right back into the hall closet....with glee...and plan to ignore them until my fingers are numb and my teeth are chattering. (Of course, knowing me, this could be tomorrow, but we'll see...) As long as this weather sticks around, I plan to make merry in the extended Fall conditions, and do all my fa-la-la-ing...parka-less! (Well...maybe just a light jacket....)

Food, family, friends, fun

Friday morning, after sleeping off the Thanksgiving festival o' carbs, I was refreshed and ready for a whirlwind social tour. (Well, you know, after a trip to the nearest Quickie-Mart for a nice tall cup of the blessed nectar of life....um, "coffee".) The first stop involved a lunch-slash-gab-session with two college friends. In a nutshell: there was lots of catching up, much laughter, and tons of good stories--it's always such fun to let your hair down with people who've known you for...let's just say "decades" and leave it at that, shall we?

After bidding them "adieu for now" I made my way to a nearby park to squeeze in a stroll before the sun set. It was...brisk...but I had a festive holiday playlist queued up on my phone for my listening enjoyment as I ambled through the woods, so it was all good. (That is, until I could no longer feel my legs because they were numbed by the cold wind, but that's just the signal that you're done, right?) From there, I set off on the familiar roads toward my former hometown...a scenario that suddenly struck me as extremely...weird. I mean, here I was, driving along my old familiar byways, yet I was a visitor, without a home base to which I could return. I felt like some kind of, I don't know...modern-day nomad, maybe...having packed everything I thought I'd need for the day that morning before leaving my dad's house.

So there I was, with several hours to kill before my next engagement, needing somewhere to hang out, and activities to while away the free time. Hmmm...what's a place can one go, that actually encourages loitering...and sampling the wares...for free? Ding ding, ding: the Public Library, of course! (aka Readers' Heaven...) Since I'd planned ahead, I'd brought my laptop along, and therefore was able to settle down in a comfy chair--and goof off--to my heart's content. Well...for approximately 40 minutes, until they announced that they were closing. (Sigh. Didn't see that coming...) Okay, fine, moving on...I'm a little bit hungry, so maybe I'll grab a snack. Hey...there just happens to be a restaurant right down the street that all of Team WestEnders used to L-O-V-E...that we miss, since they don't exist in NC...conveniently located right across the street from where I'm scheduled to make my upcoming rendezvous. Yeah, it seems like fate, doesn't it?

Even though I knew I'd get into such a huge amount of hot water if it ever got back to my family--particularly Derek--that I went there without them...I did it anyway (So please do me a big favor and shhhhhhhh! I'm counting on you to keep a secret! Until my son reads this for himself and gives me heck, anyway...) I boldly walked up to the counter, and ordered chips, salsa, and guacamole (with only a slight amount of guilt...but a whole lot more anticipation), The cashier asked for my loyalty card--which I'd naturally left in the car--so he entered my phone number instead. "You have $5 in Burrito Bucks on here; would you like to use it?" he asked cheerfully. Uh...darn right I would appreciate paying 74-cents for my dinner! So you see, it truly was destiny that I ended up in California Tortilla...I was clearly following the Will of the Universe...and therefore I can't be blamed at all! (Think that'll fly with the kids? Yeah, me neither...but that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it, as they say...)

After that, I still had a few minutes before I was due at Starbucks, so I wandered around Homegoods in the same shopping center...which explains how I ended up with new spatulas...and coasters...to bring home from my trip. The boys were understandably confused as to why I went to Maryland...and brought back kitchen supplies (but the explanation doesn't really clarify anything, so they're just going to have to accept it as a sort of...mystic happening...or some such nonsense...). Finally, a date for Coffee Talk with some Playgroup Pals--we met when our oldest children were less than a year old, and although our offspring don't necessarily keep in touch anymore, we still get together whenever we can for some much-needed grownup bonding....caffeine and chatting, what could be better? (Oh, except it was 7 p.m., so it was definitely decaf for all of us--but you know what I mean...)

But wait, as if that weren't enough gallivanting, I still had one more item on the agenda. The next morning I prepared to say "hasta la proxima mes" ("see you next month") to my sister and father (the rest of the clan not having surfaced yet, at the ungodly hour of my departure...you might know it as "9:30") and travel to yet another java reunion, with an interpreter-buddy from my previous job. Several cups of joe and hours of stimulating conversation later, it was time to bid Maryland farewell, at least for this excursion. The weather was unnecessarily chilly (in my humble opinion) but with an abundance of special time shared with family and friends, the hospitality left absolutely nothing to be desired. In fact, I have an idea! It was sooooo delightful, let's do it all again in December, okay? Aaannnd, let the calendar syncing begin!

Over the River and Through the Woods (ish)

Team WestEnders deviated from custom for the Thanksgiving holiday this year, deciding to follow a Split Squad format and travel in opposite directions. The Male Posse thus headed south, to spend the weekend with Husband's parents. And I set off northbound, to visit my family in Maryland for the first time since we moved away in June.

My original plan was to eat breakfast at home on Wednesday, then get in the car immediately afterwards, so I could entertain even a hopeful prayer of getting through Northern Virginia before the extra-special-rush-hour-day-before-Thanksgiving traffic mayhem commenced. Then...I started hearing whispers of a 4-letter word--that would be "snow"--in the forecast for the greater D.C. metro area. Well, that just throws a big old monkey wrench in the carefully crafted agenda, now doesn't it? (And can I just say: it's FAR too early for this nonsense! Ooh, I'm so happy we're going to have a White Thanksgiving....said NO ONE...EVER! Or, yeah, maybe that's just me...)

When the impending doom--um, "meteorological situation"--got so dire that people began posting weather updates on Facebook, I knew it was time for an Emergency Plan B. This hastily-conceived idea involved the extremely unusual scenario of me getting up at 6 a.m., tossing on clothes, and hitting the road ASAP...all in an attempt to outrun the storm. In reality, by the time I got ready (which took longer than anticipated...must have been the Curse of the Early Hour), and picked up coffee (absolutely necessary for this endeavor) and money, it was about 6:40 before I managed to put rubber on the road. To further complicate matters, in North Carolina it was raining buckets...as in "reduced visibility" and, oh yeah, the ever-so-pleasant twin threats of "standing water" and "danger of hydroplaning".

Suffice it to say, the conditions were soooo very not-pleasant--and this continued...for about 4 hours. That's right, it pretty much poured all the way to Tyson's Corner, Virginia...where it switched over to the dreaded white stuff. By this point, I had made awesome time, since I hadn't stopped for anything. No convenience store snack, no pee break, no Diet Pepsi infusion--just driving like the proverbial "bat out of hell". So I was actually in really good shape when the flakes started to fall....and I just wanted to keep moving and get this sucker over with. When all was said and done, I pulled into my dad's driveway at about 5 hours and 28 minutes (you know "approximately", 'cuz only a Type A person would have been writing down the times...oops...), safe and sound, even if also...exhausted and famished.

And believe me, the irony was not lost on me: one of the major reasons I left this area was because I was so very, very much O-V-E-R Winter, with its frigid temperatures...and its frozen precipitation...and whatnot. So of course, on my first return visit my former hometown rolls out a blanket of snow in lieu of the (much more appreciated) welcome mat? (Gee...thaaaaanks....) While the new timeline and the state of the roadways forced me to abandon my original dinner plans with a friend, I did get to take a Winter Wonderland walk to stretch my legs after my non-stop travel day, and of course spend some bonus quality time with my family. And boy, did it feel good to settle down for that "long Winter's nap" at the end of the evening!

Because the next day was all about gearing up for the Grand Meal, naturally. You know the drill--wake up at the crack of dawn to get the turkey in the oven, start chopping...stuff...and, um...make 6 hours worth of side dishes...etc. Okay, I'm totally fabricating, here. You see, my brother was going to deep fry the poultry, which requires a relatively short amount of time, and the accompanying casseroles could be assembled a few hours before dinner, so we had...some leisure hours! (Whoo hoo!) So, I was able to fit in another (chilly) stroll, and we took a girl's-only jaunt (Me, Sis, Niece) to the grocery store for some last-minute supplies...and then we bonded over the prepping of stuffing and mashed potatoes. (No, really, it was really cool "peeling and sauteeing and stirring and chatting" time!)

I have to say, dinner turned out pretty darn great (although I'll have to take everyone else's word for it on the turkey, obviously). Then it was time to revive yet another bygone family tradition, from back in the days when I was in college and coming home for Thanksgiving break, I think: no, not pre-Black Friday shopping (which we might have done once or twice, but we're older...wiser...and not as crazy anymore...), but Thanksgiving Night Sister Movie. (Yeah, we really need to work on that title, don't we?) This time we included the niece as well, sticking with the all-female theme, and took ourselves to see Mockingjay Part 1. It's a lovely way to relax and let the carbs settle...while watching an action-packed, emotionally stressful, thrilling, ultimately satisfying film, right? (I might have had a wee bit of trouble getting to sleep right afterwards, but otherwise, it works for us!)

So that just about sums up the first 2 days of my Inaugural Maryland Excursion--as a tourist, that is. I have to admit that it felt a bit weird, staying at a parent's house for the first time as an adult (displacing my nephews from their room in the process--and a huge thank you for the bed, guys!). But you can't beat the togetherness, and we've definitely made some wonderful memories. Now it's time to enjoy the last full day in the Northland before making my way back to Chapel Hill tomorrow. So...gloves: check. Coat: check. Wool socks: check. Sweater: check. Warm shoes: check. Okay, I'm ready for some more fun!

New Zoo Review

While spending many years in the D.C. metro area, Team WestEnders had the good fortune to be able to take advantage of the National Zoo. Yes, it was kind of a trek for us, involving either A) the time and turmoil of navigating into our nation's capital...of traffic hell...or B) driving to a subway station (15 minutes), shelling out for parking and farecards ($5.10 for the car, and $14.40 for the 4 of us humans, during off-peak hours), waiting for a train, riding for 40-minutes or so, then walking the last half-mile to the entrance. Still, the park itself is free, and we enjoyed the opportunity to spend quality hours with some of nature's more exotic creatures.

So, when we discussed relocating, one thing Husband mentioned--only partly jokingly--was that there had to be a zoo somewhere in the travel-able vicinity for him to consider moving. Well, it just so happens that there is a North Carolina Zoo...and now that our weekends (temporarily) aren't being dominated by soccer, we had a free Saturday to go check it out. The first thing I can say is that it's a good thing we had a big chunk of time to devote to our excursion, because this place is located in Asheboro, 58 miles away...which translates to over an hour of driving...into the approximate middle of N-O-W-H-E-R-E, as it turns out. Luckily it was a cool, sunny, all-around-beautiful Fall day--very pleasant for a car trip. (In case you're wondering just how far out in the sticks we ended up: we started spying gas for sale at $2.53 per gallon. Holy...Boondocks Bargain, Batman!)

Since it's kind of the "off-season" now, there weren't hordes of other people out visiting the animals. On the flip side, the chilly start to the day had some of the critters lying around, seemingly in semi-hibernation mode. (Or maybe they were merely spending a relaxing weekend morning, saving up their energy for the...Saturday Night Wild Kingdom Blowout Bash...hard to tell...) We kicked off our tour in the North America section, where we saw lazy black bears, entertaining otters, scary snakes...and a bunch of other cool stuff. But what really took our breath away was the Prairie Exhibit, populated by herds of elk and bison. You see, in Washington, space was understandably limited. The zoo's residents had nice enclosures, to be sure, but they weren't what you'd call...expansive. But gazing out upon the rolling grasslands where the buffalo literally roamed, (and yes,, the deer and the antelope played...) I suddenly understood quite clearly why they chose to plop the zoo on this huge piece of God's green earth. So. Much. SPACE.

It was the same as we continued into the African portion of our journey. The elephants, rhinoceroses, zebras and giraffes occupied such an enormous hunk of real estate that never had to run into each other, unless they actually wanted to--you know, for a...Savannah Tea Party...or something. (Yeah, the critters are apparently very social in my imagination for some reason...) There were also chimps of all ages, from mamas with babes-in-arms, to several old-timers born in the '70s. All together, the zoo has about 17 of them (!) who rotate being on display...to allow for some much needed Primate Downtime, I suppose. Then came the highlight of the entire day, as far as I was concerned: the lions' den. One shaggy-maned male, one regal female...and four indescribably adorable, cuddly, fluffy, playful, precious CUBS. Oh. My. Gosh...Sooooooo Stinkin' Cute! They scurried, they stalked, they pounced, they wrestled...and I coulda totally stood right there and watched them ALL DAY, I tell ya. (Well, at least until they settled down for one of their frequent snoozes--after all, they are just great big kitty cats, right?)

After that, we found ourselves tired and footsore, and ready to wrap up a successful first zoo expedition. We do already know that we have to come back, since we missed several species' this time. (Oh, baboons, polar bear, and grizzlies, where were you? Better things to do than amuse the general public, eh? No worries, we'll catch ya in the Spring...) And I had read when checking out the online information that there's even a hiking trail you can do (sure, as if you haven't had enough walking...) with the intriguing name of..."Purgatory". Sounds like something we must conquer...on the other side of our first North Carolina Winter. Hopefully everyone--the two-and-four-legged beasts alike--will be feeling sprightly for the next go-around...

From the Mind...and Mouth...of Riley

You know how people say they'd like to be a "fly on the wall", to be able to eavesdrop on certain private conversations, or observe something happening behind closed doors? Well, there are times when I'd think it'd be fascinating to be able to see firsthand exactly what goes on inside the complicated mechanism of Riley's brain.. (Let me think, what would work in this scenario? Hmm...any kind of insect would be too invasive, and potentially harmful. And some sort of...advanced alien life form, visiting for research purposes, sounds too...creepy. Ooh, I know--I could use a microscopic submarine like in the movie Fantastic Voyage! Yeah, that's totally doable...)

Anyway, last night, for example, we were pulling into the garage fairly late in the evening, after a lovely time spent with a friend and her family, eating and chatting and congregating around their backyard fire pit. Husband's car stereo was set to the local classic rock station, as it often is, and Eddie Money's tune Two Tickets to Paradise began to play. I don't know if it was the fact that it had been a long day and he was tired...or he's just an innate gooberhead...but Riley piped up from the back seat, "Here's what I don't get about this song." ("Uh-oh, here we go," I thought, as alarm bells started shrieking in my head. ") "What's that, buddy?" Husband innocently asked. (Meanwhile, "Are you crazy? Do you even KNOW your son? You're only going to encourage the madness!" I said...silently...I tell ya, it was a very effective exchange...in my imagination...)

But it was far too late to turn back, as Riley launched into the following: "Well, he says he's got two tickets to paradise, pack your bags, we'll leave tonight." (Yeaaahhh, we're all--cautiously--with you so far...) "But he doesn't say what time they're leaving! Or...or where they're actually going! I mean, you don't know what to pack, or when to show up. And the flight could be delayed, so that would be another problem..." Oh. Good. Grief. I just wordlessly shook my head, as Derek turned to his brother, mouth gaping and expression incredulous. Finally the teenager managed to sputter, "WHY are you so concerned with Eddie Money's vacation plans?" And Husband? He sat with his head resting on the steering wheel, shaking with uncontrollable muted laughter, completely unable to speak or move. So congratulations, son; you succeeded in incapacitating your entire family...with one well-delivered '70s pop rant...

Less than 12 hours later, he was up and at it again. (Memo To Me: in future,  if at all possible, avoid youngest son until AFTER ingestion of coffee...) I had instigated a food-related discussion with Derek the previous morning--while watching him toast 2 full-sized bagels for his breakfast. I opined that perhaps that was more carbs than any human being truly NEEDED to consume in one meal, and suggested that he at least put something on them that contained protein and healthy fat, to provide more balanced nutrition. (And--bonus--keep him full for a longer period...you know, if that's even feasible...) So instead of his usual oleo, I offered cream cheese or peanut butter. "Is it creamy or crunchy?" he inquired of the latter choice. When I informed him it was the smooth variety, he turned up his nose, but condescended to use it anyway, given the lack of his preferred type. (A peanut butter snob--who knew?) I promised I'd get him the other kind on my next excursion to the grocery store...

Which led me to pose the same question to Riley the next day. He immediately, emphatically responded, "Oh, I don't really like bits of peanuts in there." That was clear enough for me, and I was just about to write that down on my shopping list and move on with my day when he continued, thoughtfully, "It reminds me too much of...a colloid....with solid pieces suspended in a liquid...and that just seems...wrong." Siiiiiighhhh. All I can say is: thank goodness he had a Science test a few days ago that included this very vocabulary word, and I had helped him study. So at least I had an inkling of what he was talking about...even if he is one big honkin' nerdling.

And there you have it...Riley's stream-of-consciousness can be a Class 5 Rapids experience at times...but you can't deny it's also usually a fun trip...

The Beautiful Game...Revised

Well, folks, it seems that we here at Team WestEnders have gotten ourselves into a novel (for us, anyway) Soccer Situation. First, some necessary background: both Derek and Riley spent their entire..."careers"...in Maryland playing for one local club. It was purely recreational--competition being entirely "in-house" and all games being held at the home field...about a mile from where we lived--and we all enjoyed years and years of awesome family fun. To be honest, occasionally it occurred to us that perhaps the boys should try out for the higher level...but the added practices and, well, the driving all over creation for Travel League kept us from encouraging the kids to go in that direction.

Now, in our new hometown, the sporting picture is very different. There's "recreation", which promotes itself as being purely for pleasure--and in fact is soooo casual and laid-back that they don't even KEEP SCORE. Then there's Triangle United Challenge, which requires you to "try out"...but this really just means showing up for a scrimmage and demonstrating your skills for the Director, so he can determine if this level is appropriate for you. Finally, there's TU Classic: loads more expensive; year-round training multiple times a week; and be-bopping all over the state for matches and tournaments.

Okay, after I researched all that and presented it to Husband, we agreed to dismiss the lowest and highest options as being, respectively, too little competition, and too much commitment. HOWEVER...when Derek didn't make his high school team, it turned out his only choice was the Rainbow rec-league, since Challenge isn't available to his age group in the Fall, due to (ironically)... too many players being tied up with their school teams. Meanwhile, we got Riley signed up for Challenge with no difficulty, and so got the opportunity to learn about what that entailed. Basically the most surprising aspect for us was that it involved...more commuting than we expected, with almost all of his matches happening at complexes located 20-30 minutes away.

They both had perfectly good experiences with their Fall teams, though. But one thing that the high school coach had recommended for Derek to work on improving was...aggressiveness. At the time, this made both of us laugh uproariously, because in the last few years, having grown quite a bit taller--and also having become a very solidly-built kid--he found himself getting constantly called for fouls when he attempted to use his body to block (legally...most of the time...) thereby causing smaller kids to literally bounce off him (and often hit the ground). Then this past season, playing COED, he obviously tried very hard to keep himself in check so as not to plow over either shorter kids...or girls...during games. All of this adds up to: another season of NOT being able to focus on the kind of aggressive play that seems to be required from players his age in the NC soccer system.

I believe that catches us up to the present. Riley will fortunately be able to continue with his current team in the Spring, so no worries there...but we needed to figure out what to do with Derek. I believed it would be as simple as bringing him to the same kind of informal tryout that Riley had done, to be placed on a Challenge team. With this in mind, I emailed the Director of the U15-18 Division of TU, to make arrangements. He promptly responded with a date, time, and location for Derek to attend a practice with his peers. "Great", I though, "So we're all set, yeah?"

Then Derek came home from school and said, "Um...Mom? My friend told me he's going to the same tryout...and it's for a...Bronze Classic team." "Well, that can't be right, I started to reply." But then I paused for a moment to consider: I never actually stated that Derek was interested in Challenge rather than Classic, and the Director with whom I had communicated covers both levels. Oops, my bad. So we showed up anyway (might as well, right?) and talked to the man in charge, who happened to be the coach of the team running around on the field. I explained our error, and he immediately asked, "Why do you want Challenge rather than Classic?" Without hesitation I answered, "Because of the traveling!" He informed us that for Derek's age group...the distances would be pretty much the same, because they have to go further to find teams of older kids. Ohhhhhhh, I see...well, that's certainly interesting news.

Since we were already there, and Derek was geared up and ready to go, we decided to let him stay and play...and see how it went. The coach assured me he'd evaluate Derek to determine if he would be offered one of the open spots on his own team--or if not, he would tell the Director that Derek needed to be placed with a Challenge group. And I've gotta say, standing there watching the practice...that's a whole other level of soccer than we're used to, right there. The amount of talent and skill on that patch of grass was pretty astonishing...even to someone who's been spectating from the soccer sidelines since Derek was 6 years old. When they were winding down, Coach came over and updated me, "I have 3 vacancies, 4 kids trying out, and everyone looked really good tonight, Can you come to another practice and I'll make my selections then?" Um...you betcha! His parting advice was: "One thing I want to see is...more aggressive play." Oh. Good. Grief. Derek and I exchanged a look and tried not to snicker. He added, "You're a big kid; use your body!" Noted, Coach.

As luck would have it, Husband was out of town AGAIN during all these shenanigans...so he got a real earful when he returned. Iin the end, we agreed that we'd let the results of the tryout determine which way we headed. If Derek made it, it meant that we should allow him to compete at this level, because it would only give him the opportunity to continue to grow as a player. As for the expense and the excursion...ing...we'd suck it up and make it work. And if he wasn't chosen, there'd be no issues with him joining a Challenge squad, anyway. So, Husband took Derek to the second practice. When they arrived home I couldn't tell from their expressions (Derek appeared exhausted, Husband...super-chilled) what had transpired, so I was a little nervous about inquiring. But Husband told me that 30 minutes into the hour-and-a-half session, the coach had approached him and offered Derek a spot. (Pause: YAAAYYY! Way to go, sweetie! Mom's proud of you!) Apparently Coach R was pleased by the difference in what Derek showed him since the previous meeting...including--you guessed it--a marked increase in his physical play. (Derek grinned, "Yeah, I knocked someone over this time during the scrimmage; I guess he liked that!")

Thus begins a new era in the life of our teenaged Defender. For starters, unlike the off-season he's accustomed to, he'll continue to practice twice weekly...in December. (Can anyone say...Holy Frozen Footballers, Batman? That's gonna be a cooooold prospect...) Then in January (yeah, the even frostier month) they bump it up to 3 times per week to prepare for games that begin...in February. Ay yi yi...this would be totally terrific if we were in, say, the Mexican League...but Derek's loving, supportive Parental Units might be enthusiastically cheering him on...from the warmth of the car...for some of those early contests. Oh, and no information is available as yet in terms of where we'll be scurrying off to this Spring for those matches. I suppose we can look at it this way: we'll get more acquainted with our adopted state as we navigate our way to possibly far-flung fields. Heck, as much as we enjoy exploring and adventuring, I don't see this being much of a hardship...except of course if Derek's and Riley's games overlap...in which case Team WestEnders will be forced to use a Split Squad format...sigh...stay tuned for the potential craziness!

Cold Runnings

In 2013, Team WestEnders decided to try running a 5K race together, sort of on a trial basis. Primarily, we wanted to see if A) each of us--but especially the youngest member of our family--could handle that distance and B) we all would find the experience enjoyable (rather than, you know, "torturous"). The answers to both of those queries turned out to be a resounding "yes", so we promptly registered for another one a month later. However, since none of us is particularly fond of getting up too early, or driving too far first thing in the morning for an exercise-related event, we stuck to those two local races, then considered ourselves done for the season.

This year, we managed to repeat the June Alex's Run, a couple of weeks before moving. (Actually, I did the 3.1 miles at 8 a.m. on a Sunday, then immediately got cleaned up and drove to NC, so I'd be ready to sign papers at the closing for our new house the next day...just to add to the excitement and all...) Then, after getting relocated and settled in, we found out about a 5K happening in our new neighborhood in September and signed up for it. So, having equalled our total from the previous year, we figured we were finished for 2014. But...nooooo. I saw advertisements for another nearby race...in November.

At first I thought, "November? Are they crazy? It'll be frigid!" But then I remembered...we're further south than we used to be...and the temperatures tend to hover around the "balmy" level for longer into the Fall than we're accustomed to...so it would probably be quite pleasant. Also, unlike the Summer runs, which take place early to beat the climbing mercury, this one would be held at the extremely civilized hour of: 10 a.m. We wouldn't even have to set an alarm! We could...eat breakfast! As a final positive, it was scheduled for the weekend after the soccer seasons wrapped up for both boys--so I couldn't honestly think of a reason NOT to go ahead with it.

And then came the unexpected, unusual cold snap. (Stupid...fallout from some monumentally fierce Alaskan snowstorm...or whatever...) Anxiously keeping an watchful eye on the forecast in the week leading up to the race, I was...downright alarmed...by the overnight lows. (It didn't do anything for my peace of mind that our helpful weather station in the kitchen blinks a green warning light when it measures outside conditions around the 32* mark...thus it flashed threateningly at us all week long as we sat at the breakfast tablel and attempted--pretty unsuccessfully, I'd say--to ignore it...) Suddenly, 10:00 didn't sound so peachy after all; a couple more hours would be nice, to squeak out even a few more degrees of warmth before putting our feet on the pavement.

But truth be told, I'm pretty much speaking for myself, here. You see, I gave myself permission, right around the time Riley was born, if memory serves, to cease running activities during the Winter. I realized...I just don't LIKE to do it. The stiff muscles, the frosty air seeping into my lungs, the sweat chilling on my body, the icy breeze cutting right through to my skin--yeah, I basically detest all of that. (Hard-core, year-round runners will argue that if you wear the right gear, with wicking and insulating and blah blah blah, it's fine...but whatever, nothing can change the fact that you're still surrounded by...COLD. No, thank you...) Anyway, it was a life-changing moment when I had the following conversation with myself: "Hey, I'm an adult..no one can force me to run if I don't want to...so I'm just gonna hold out for Spring, boo yah!" (Or...something like that...)

From that transformative moment, my ground rule became "I'll run only on days when it's above 50*." And for many years, I stuck faithfully to that mantra...except now I'd paid for a race that happened to fall on a morning when the heartless numbers on the thermometer read 33*. So, dread it though I may, I mentally prepared to suck it up and get this thing done. Mostly, I kept reminding myself that at my normal pace, I finish 5Ks in about 29 minutes. So my perky inner cheerleader encouraged me along with the thought, "Less than a half-hour, and it'll be over! Easy peasy!" (Besides, I'm absolutely sure that no one has ever turned into a popsicle in that amount of time...) Then there was the minor matter of how to dress for this, since I don't have a lot of practice...or special outdoor Winter clothing, for that matter.

As I debated about what--and how many--layers to pile onto my person, Derek and Riley appeared, declaring themselves ready to go...in shorts...and light jackets. (Sigh. The scary thing is, I can't even debate this with them, as they are both exceptionally warm-blooded creatures. No idea where they got that particular trait from...) Thus outfitted, we made our way to the Starting Line. And you know what? It didn't feel nearly as bad as I'd feared it would. Sure, it was...brisk...but I think we were lucky that there was no wind whatsoever, so it actually felt pretty darn bearable. Waiting for the gun to signal the beginning of the race, I gave the boys my usual pep talk...which consists entirely of "See you at the Finish Line." Yeah, they're much faster than I am, so I generally wish them Godspeed and fortify myself for yet another solo jaunt.

As for the course itself, it was pleasantly scenic...if a bit HILLY...winding along nice neighborhood sidewalks and a paved wooded path. Once they took off in front of me, I never saw my sons again, as expected. So I chugged along on my own...surprised and glad that it actually felt...pretty okay. (Which, based on my low expectations before beginning, translates to "Wow! This is awesone!") At the blessed end, I reunited with Derek and Riley, who had come in a full 5 minutes before me, almost to the second. Yep, those two speed demons completed the 3.1 miles in...24 minutes. Good. Grief. This earned them 25th and 26th in the overall standings--which of course left them inordinately pleased with themselves. (I ended up 59th in the total field...obviously not winning any medals with that one, but still a perfectly respectable result, as far as I'm concerned.)

Well, there you have it. 3/4 of Team WestEnders conquered their first...Polar 5K. And now, we can close the book on another race season...hunker down indoors for the cold months to come...and look forward to getting back out there again in the (hopefully WARM) Spring of 2015!