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!
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Tuesday, December 30, 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...
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...
Monday, December 29, 2014
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!
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!
Friday, December 26, 2014
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
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
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
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 @$%& 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!
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 @$%& 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!
Sunday, December 21, 2014
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...
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...
Saturday, December 20, 2014
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!)
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!)
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
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!
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.
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.
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!
Saturday, December 13, 2014
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.....
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.....
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
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!
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!
Sunday, December 7, 2014
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!
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!
Thursday, December 4, 2014
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....)
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....)
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