Saturday, April 30, 2016

Every Day is Earth Day, Y'all....

Anyone who's known me for a while will pick up on the fact that I make a good faith effort to be Earth-friendly, environmentally-aware, blah blah blah--as much as possible. (Not claiming to be perfect in my low impact choices 100% of the time, by any means...and not so fanatical as to chuck organized society and go live in the woods, foraging for sustenance and leaving absolutely zero carbon footprint...but hopefully somewhere in the sane, middle ground of being sensitive to the issues, while living a normal life as a part of 21st-century civilization...)

So, one of the changes I implemented a few years ago--prompted by my increasing guilt about the ravaging of natural resources for our own fickle human comfort--is opting for recycled paper products. (Hug trees! Don't chop them down to wipe your counters! Yeah...the slogan needs work...but you get the picture, right?) Thus we started using washable napkins and biodegradable cleaning cloths for the kitchen, and I began buying paper towels and toilet paper made from at least partially recycled fibers. And honestly, this was easy to do; chain stores are beginning to get on the bandwagon and carry these items on the shelves, so there's no hardship for the consumer...besides a slightly higher price...which I was willing to pay, in order to uphold my principles...or whatever.

(It should be noted in the interest of full disclosure that the one place at which I must draw the line is: facial tissues. Because as often as I have to blow my nose, it would turn red, dry up, and FALL OFF if I didn't spring for the soft stuff. Confession over...I feel better...moving on...)

But then, just when I had identified my reliable go-to-brands, and was comfortable with my selections, and didn't have to ruminate on it too hard any more...the unthinkable happened. That's right, our local emporiums just suddenly stopped stocking the familiar packages...or any other recycled options, for that matter...leaving me standing in the aisles, staring at the unacceptable alternatives...and wondering what to do. (Such shopping angst! In retrospect, I probably looked like a crazy person, just frozen in the middle of the store wearing a bewildered and slightly panicked expression. Seriously, I'm lucky they didn't alert Security to escort me out...)

Okay, clearly it was time to regroup. Once I regained my wits, I did what any modern-day human--with a computer and Internet access--would do: I Googled that sucker. And let me tell ya, folks, the results were...kind of unexpected...and upsetting. I knew I'd get hits for companies that sold recycled paper products, and I did. But what also popped up in the search results was a plethora of articles detailing the DANGERS of such things. What. The. HECK?

Here's the scoop...you've most likely heard about the recent controversy over the chemical called BPA, and how it's suspected of a variety of health risks, such as disrupting the body's endocrine system...and causing cancer. Well, one of the things the experts who are concerned will tell you to avoid is: register receipts, which are coated in the compound because it keeps the ink from fading. Follow the logic, here: responsible people, who recycle all of their paper...toss receipts in with the rest of it. Therefore, according to the warnings I read, the BPA ends up being transferred to recycled items...which we then use to...um...let's say "rub on various parts of our bodies" and leave it at that, shall we?

Ay yi yi. Apparently, my attempts to be green have instead been endangering my family. Sooooo NOT COOL! Furthermore, now I need to find some other way to be kind to the planet, AND to my loved ones at the same time. But fear not, folks--it's out there, thanks to the gods of Amazon. I present to you: Emerald Brand Tree Free Bath Tissue! The description states that it contains "bagasse, bamboo, and eucalyptus". (I had to look up that first one, but it means residue from sugar cane, basically. Don't overthink it...) It sounded...okay, "weird and kind of nuts"...but worth a shot, so I placed an order.

Then, before the box arrives and I have to do a HUGE explanation for the very people I'm trying to protect...who, let's face it, are not likely to be listening, as they're laughing too loudly, or too busy mocking me for my...crunchy-granola-ness...I sprung it on Derek. Not surprisingly, he sort of stared at me, dumbfounded and shaking his head. Next an impish grin formed on his face, and he abruptly erupted into one of his patented faux-tirades, "This is the third time this week someone's told me one of my habits is gonna give me cancer. First the turf fields, then the asbestos in our school, now toilet paper?"

He paused for just a moment to catch his breath before concluding with a flourish, "What are you people doing to me, making me play soccer, go to school...and wipe my BUTT? (His smile grew in triumph, when I just sat there in silence, unable to quite formulate a response. Then as an afterthought he added, "This is going in the blog, isn't it?" Oh, you bet your...bamboo-cleaned bum, baby...thanks for the material. And you're welcome for the...notoriety?)

His next thought was entirely practical, as he continued to process the information I'd shared, "Wait...bamboo? That's gotta be...rough!" I assured him, based on the comments I had scrolled through, that people had reported--however they manufacture the stuff--it feels fine and works well. But this set him off again for a second, "Whaaaat? Who writes a review...of toilet paper?" (Oh, people have quite a lot to say--you'd be amazed...and also possibly amused...and yes, a wee bit horrified. Hmm, how shall I explain this...I know: you think I'm part hippie? Honey, you have NO IDEA who else is out there...)

So...yeah. The shipping email I received informed me that our little experiment should be here on Monday. At which point I'll be forced to bring Riley and Husband into the loop. And then we'll all experience the (hopefully) magic of skin-and-Earth-compatible toilet paper. I swear, does it seem like sometimes doing the right thing can be a real pain in the you-know-what? But what can I say? That's me: saving the world, one sh...eet at a time! (Ha! Sorry...)

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

On the Road Again

I had myself a bona fide life-changing adventure over the weekend, my friends. That's right, for the very first time, I was a (wait for it...) passenger in the vehicle...driven by my 16-year old son. Now, I know what you're probably thinking: "Waaiiiit a minute...hasn't Derek been in possession of his Learner's Permit since last July? How in the world have you managed to avoid riding shotgun thus far?" Well, folks, let's just say...I'm Just. That. Good.

No, seriously--a combination of factors has conspired to limit Derek's time behind the wheel, in general. He'll be the first to tell you that between his year-round soccer commitment...and the amount of homework he's had to manage as a high school sophomore...he just doesn't have a whole lot of spare hours to fritter away on the roads. Add to that the fact that the only car he can use right now is Husband's (my Subaru being a manual transmission, which I'd be perfectly willing to teach him...AFTER he has some experience with all of the other...stuff...you need to master to be a safe and skilled operator), and you can see what we're up against.

He needs 60 hours of practice, total, and he has oh, about FIVE thus far, so our new Family Goal is to get him out there chauffeuring us around at every possible opportunity. Here it should be noted that I'm arbitrarily including Riley in this proclamation...even though his immediate reaction to the idea of Derek driving him anywhere was a vehement "Absolutely NOT!" accompanied by a vigorous head shake and a stern expression, lest there be any doubt as to his feelings on the subject. When asked to provide an explanation for his--clearly firm--opinion, he simply stated, "I don't trust him yet. Maybe when he has about...30 hours...then we'll see." (Even when we assured Riley that we weren't tossing Derek out onto the 8-lane highway anytime soon, he remained...skeptical...at best.)

His resistance, however, was about to meet an unceremonious end, as Team WestEnders had been invited to Husband's cousin's house--on the other side of Chapel Hill--for a belated cake-and-ice-cream celebration of Derek's birthday. And after all, what better way to commemorate turning 16...than by ferrying your beloved family to the festivities? Hold on, what am I saying? This means that I, too, would be joining the Trial Crew...was I ready for this? I took a few deep breaths and fortified myself with the thought that, as long as we arrived in one piece, there would (LITERALLY) be a sweet reward waiting for us at the conclusion of our journey. With that comforting notion planted in my mind, I buckled in...and started counting down the minutes it would take to cover the distance between our house and Cousin's. (Kidding! Sort of...)

So, we first headed down our super-steep driveway, and Husband gave the obligatory warning to take the turn onto the street verrrry slowly, lest he drag the Hyundai's low undercarriage. (If I were a gambling girl, I'd wager that he's given some variation of this advice EVERY SINGLE TIME he and Derek have gone gallivanting. Yep, I'd win money, almost 100% guaranteed...) Of course you can guess what comes next: clunk...scraaaape. (Siiiiighhhh...) However, after than somewhat inauspicious beginning, he did fine. Still a little wide on the turns, but he handled the speed, lane changes, stoplights...and whatnot...without incident. No one felt compelled to grab the Panic Handles, and Husband, who was acting as co-pilot for this jaunt, never once slammed his foot into the floorboards to activate the Imaginary Brake on his side of the cabin.

I suppose we can conclude that all those times recently that he's made Derek drive himself (under supervision) to his team workouts--1/2 hour away, on busy roads during what passes for Rush Hour around here--have paid off. He seems to be building two very critical things: confidence...and competence....that will help him as he moves toward...independent navigating. (GULP! Right...not even close yet...relax...) And obviously there are many, many more experiences that he will encounter that will continue to shape his abilities; for example, the other night Husband allowed Derek to bring them back from practice...in the DARK. (Yep, maiden-voyage-after-sunset...whoo hoo!)

Apparently that portion of the evening went perfectly smoothly....yet it was reported that on the way to the site--which was not their regular venue, so the directions weren't entirely familiar to either of them--Derek missed a turn. No big deal, right? It happens to even the most seasoned of drivers. But Derek didn't quite know what to do...so he just...kept going straight. Relaying the story later, Husband chuckled, "He kept blowing past driveways instead of pulling in--it's like he was expecting there to be a neon sign with a specially designated Teenager Turnaround, or something!" According to him, the road eventually dead-ended, forcing Derek to perform the necessary about-face and retrace his route. (Derek's only comment was a mild retort: "You must get lost all the time, since you know what to do so well!" Touche, my son...)

Anyway, this process is clearly an ongoing thing in which we will all be participating for some time to come. I survived my initial stint as the Back Seat Rider. Maybe now I'm ready for the role of Driver's Ed Instructor...using Husband's automobile...IF there are treats at the finish line, that is...

Saturday, April 23, 2016

I'll have the usual...

I began compiling this...chronicle of rambling nonsense (right, I mean "blog") in 2008. Somewhere along the way I fell into a rhythm of writing about 8 posts a month--which works out to about every 4 days or so. Being...hmm...let's say "somewhat a creature of habit" (rather than the more truthful but less kind "overly-organized-bordering-on-compulsive", okay?), I find myself hung up on the schedule at times. What I mean is, if the day is approaching that I "should" sit down and compose something, I feel a tangible sense of...pressure...to do so. Not that anyone is actually hounding me to get it done by a deadline...or that I'm getting graded on it...or that it counts as actual, you know, WORK. So there are literally no negative consequences whatsoever, whether I put something out there or not.

And yet....I get anxious if I don't feel like have a good story to tell...even though I know this is utterly ridiculous. I mean, let's face it...sometimes, life is just...well...mundane, yeah? Not everything is a vacation, or birthday festivities, or a momentous family event with implications beyond the immediate moment. So...today-- since the last time I actually had something I felt compelled to share was last weekend, and nothing of particular import happened during the Monday to Friday grind--I thought I'd just...celebrate the everyday routine...such as it is. Without any promises of excitement or intrigue...Welcome to WestEnders World: (And by the way, how's that for an excuse to "stop reading right now and go do something much more interesting or worthwhile"? But if you're still here, continue on, you precious glutton for punishment!)

Monday started with the usual--school, work...whatnot. Then I had to pick up Derek for his checkup at the doctor's--which might sound simple, but when dealing with a Teenage Boy Brain, involved a verbal reminder in the morning as he left the house...then a text message at dismissal time to ensure that he didn't get on the bus and come home while I waited at school. To add to the...fun...when we were finished getting him weighed and examined and all of that good stuff that happens once a year whether you need it or not, we had to make a stop at the place where he got his glasses, since the frames were bent out of shape and required adjusting. By the time we were done, Rush Hour (such as it is, around here) had commenced, leading me to grumble at a backed-up stoplight. "But Mom, think of this as extra bonding time in the car with meeee!" Derek advised. (Huh. You're not wrong, son. Alrighty, then...) My reward for managing all of this was that I got to take a nice run when the commuting was done...aaahhhhh....

Tuesday began the same way, but after my stint at the office I had to gather a few things from the grocery store, and then make sure I was home in time to shuttle Riley to practice, while Husband took care of Derek's soccer chauffeuring. I snuck in a bike ride while the boys were off doing their thing, and then somehow (don't ask me for details, it's all a bit fuzzy by now) people got fed. (I'm sure. Mostly. If not, they would have complained, so we'll assume it happened, and leave it at that...)

Wednesday brought the standard cycle of everyone scattering to their "job". Then my late-afternoon To Do List got a little...off the beaten track. Make a massage appointment: check. Buy Braves baseball tickets for our planned trip to Atlanta in July: check. Take Derek to his soccer game, stand around while the team warms up, then watch them play for 80 minutes: check. Oh yeah, then it came back around to normal, as there was a heaping load of laundry to do when we returned home. (Sigh..."An Endless Pile of Dirty Clothes" would be the most apropos subtitle for my life right now....tragically...)

Thursday opened with the aforementioned blah blah blah...then boasted a brief change of course when Husband went in one direction (um, that would be "Durham") with Derek for practice, and I went in another with Riley for...yeah, practice also. While the boys cavorted with their teammates on the field, Husband jogged several miles on the American Tobacco Trail, and I walked the neighborhoods surrounding the Rainbow complex to get my steps in for the day. (And by the way, doesn't it sound like...I don't know...unicorns should be frolicking at that place? I mean, c'mon..."Rainbow' is sooooo NOT a fierce, competitive name, am I right? But I digress...) And then to end the evening...yeah, you guessed it: laundry....

Fridays are my prime time to Get-Stuff-Done, and this week was no exception. But I find it's best to kick off these...errand-paloozas...with a fortifying jaunt to Dunkin' Donuts first. Then it was a whirlwind of: the mall (retrieve an order I'd placed online), Target (obtain household supplies), DSW (replace a worn-out pair of casual sneakers I wear on a daily basis), Lowe's (window latches, bolts....a weird collection of homeowner purchases). What else? Oh yeah, workout...laundry....yawn...

Which brings us to today. I joined my walking group in the morning, for our weekly stroll-and-coffee appointment. Aaaannd I revisited Lowe's, to return the items I'd purchased that didn't end up working in the manner I wished....oy. Meanwhile, Husband conveyed Derek to his last match of the regular season, in Asheboro (over an hour away). Upon my return, I announced the news to Riley--in the manner of one informing a lottery winner of his impending good fortune--that he was privileged to participate in that most epic and beloved of events: Monthly House Cleaning. (Well, his GROAN was pretty epic, anyway....) Derek touched base for only a very short time, to shower and prep for an outing--bowling and pizza with some friends. Afterwards, he showed back up with the guys in tow, and they're now goofing off in the Bonus Room...doing Guy Stuff. (You know, video games, Nerf basketball...and general goofiness...)

And...that's it. Nothing earth-shattering, just...The Week That Was. It took quite a bit of coordinating and running around, as these things naturally do--and frankly, looking at it in print makes me feel like I have very much earned my Adult Beverage for this Saturday evening. So that's what I'm going to do, as a matter of fact....sit back with a frosty drink, watch Pitch Perfect 2 (recorded while HBO is free for a couple of days) and R-E-L-A-X...before we get up and do it all over again...maybe I'd better go peek at and update the agenda first...peace out!

Sunday, April 17, 2016

16 on the 16th

As difficult as this was for me to wrap my head around, Derek's 16th birthday arrived, regardless of whether I was in any state to accept that my oldest "baby" had reached that milestone. For many of us, nostalgia for the big 1-6 is tied to an undeniable sense of freedom, as it meant potentially receiving one's Driver's License--and with it, a ticket to the Open Road. However, we don't have to be the slightest bit concerned about that around here yet, as Derek has already been in possession of his Learner's Permit for 9 months, and during that stretch has managed to log...oh, approximately 4 hours...of the 60 he needs to become fully independent behind the wheel.

And speaking of things "not on our radar": at least he's a boy, so we don't have to wonder how, exactly, one celebrates a Sweet 16, these days, yeah? But then I began to consider whether we should do anything different from our usual celebratory activities, to mark this particular birth-i-versary. What would a teenage guy like to do for his special day? In the end I suggested that he invite his group of closest buddies--the Bus Stop Gang--over for dinner and cake on Friday night. Now, I don't know how I expected this to be greeted...with enthusiasm, perhaps? Or gratitude? What I got instead was more like...conditional acceptance...tempered by a distinct sense of...caution.

This was quickly explained by his next words, "What would we be serving?" Ohhhh, right--I forgot for a second that your friends don't eat much, and have extraordinarily limited palates. Inwardly sighing, I presented a choice: frozen pizzas, or chicken nuggets with mac and cheese. He nodded gravely and said he'd check with the posse at school lunchtime and let me know. The final verdict was in favor of the latter option, although one delightful child registered his preference for...I'm not making this up...Chik-Fil-A nuggets and Kraft mac and cheese. And then...even though I worked soooooo hard to bite my tongue, I could not help responding "What are these people, TODDLERS? I swear, it's like trying to feed a bunch of preschoolers all over again!" (Okay, okay, I didn't try that hard...or, you know, "at all", to hold that in. And I ask you, was I wrong? I didn't think so...)

Believe it or not, there was further negotiation on the stupid pasta dish. You see, the recipe I usually make--which our family LOVES, by the way--includes a whole bunch spinach, broccoli, and pimientos added to the pot. Even though I knew the answer ahead of time, I asked whether I was allowed to incorporate the healthy ingredients. This was met with the expected, resounding "NO!" Not to be completely deterred, I countered with, "Well then, can I use the pasta that's made with veggies, so they can't tell when it's covered with cheese? He agreed--albeit with an expression of obvious reservation--that this was acceptable. And then, in a mildly exasperated tone, he muttered, "You see why people don't come over here to eat, Mom?" Well, excuse me, darling--it's not my fault you hang out with a bunch of....vegetable shunners!

On the night of the actual meal, I'll have you know that everyone scarfed their cheese-smothered veggie noodles without comment or complaint. But Husband--and I seriously don't even know what he was thinking, because for crying out loud, he's MET these kids before--cracked me up by going to all the trouble to prepare them each a SALAD. Let's see...those who are vehemently opposed to sneaky green stuff hiding in their carb-laden side dish....and you're placing a bowl full of unadulterated raw rabbit food in front of them? How do ya think that's gonna go, dear? The answer is: there were some dramatic faces, along with a few minor grumbles...but the salads were consumed ...mostly. (Hey, they are nothing if not POLITE...produce haters...)

The next morning, on Derek's actual birthday, we squeezed in a few minutes before Riley and I had to head out to his soccer game for the newly 16-year old to open his presents. It was a bit more comical this year than in the past, beginning with the fact that Riley had gotten his brother a gift--something Derek had specifically asked for--but not bothered to wrap it, as it wasn't a surprise, anyway. However, Riley managed to create his own suspense when he handed Derek...the empty plastic shipping bag. After a chuckle...and perhaps a half-hearted punch...Riley forked over the Under Armour Captain America shirt he'd ordered at Derek's request.

Then there was the parcel from Mom and Dad, which was packaged in a telltale Amazon box (darn you, marketing!). Since Derek had wanted only one thing (due to its price tag) he knew what it had to be. But when he brought it in from the porch on the day it showed up (darn you, Prime delivery!) I told him with a perfectly straight face that it was simply "a large shipment of...my protein smoothie mix! Yeah, that's it!" His impish grin assured me that he didn't buy a word of it, but I stuck to my story....right up until he broke open the tape and revealed the PlayStation 4 he'd been anticipating. Finally there was the present from his grandparents in South Carolina....which they'd chosen to mail in a reused Mary Kay cosmetics box. "Okay, sweetie, you can open your makeup now!" was the perfect ending to the silliness of the a.m. (It was a couple of video games to go with his new console, by the way! NOT eye shadow, thank goodness....)

Then--after a crazy Saturday of all going in different directions--it was time to reconvene for the annual tradition of Pick-Your-Birthday-Restaurant. Team WestEnders had discussed this at length a few weeks ago, as it can be...challenging...to come to a consensus on a dining establishment that satisfies our somewhat stringent criteria. (For example: reasonably budget-friendly...but not fast food...interesting array of both  meat and veggie entrees...you get the picture...) Oddly enough, we agreed on....Al's Burger Shack. (How we got there is a whole other saga for a different day...)

So we set off in search of, I don't know...happiness on a bun....or some such nonsense. But sadly, it was not to be, as we had forgotten the cardinal rule of living in a college town: Thou Shalt Not Attempt to Patronize Franklin Street on a Weekend While the University Remains in Session. (Amen...) We drove up and down the main road, gazing longingly at the many, many tantalizing eateries...that we couldn't get anywhere near, until we found a parking spot. (Hey, this sounds familiar...didn't we just do this last Saturday night? Apparently, we're not such quick studies, sometimes...DUH!)

We had to regroup anyway, since when we cruised slowly by Al's, the line at the counter stretched out the door and down the block. So we scored a space in the free garage in Carrboro (Win!) and walked, while we adjusted the agenda. Fortunately, it was a lovely Spring evening, and Breadmen's, the Plan B diner-type-joint I proposed, was practically empty, so the dinner dilemma was pretty easily solved. But one more essential step remained to complete Derek's birthday: a trip to Ben & Jerry's for dessert. It was only one more block on foot, and again we got lucky, as we strolled right up to the display case to ogle the gallons of goodness and choose our treats. Then we got the heck out of Dodge, since a crowd of squealing little kids--and their parents--filled up every available inch of the place just as we were paying for our cups and cones.

Thus we found ourselves meandering back toward our car--savoring our ice cream, appreciating the strains of live music emanating from some kind of outdoor event on campus to our left, sharing the sidewalk with many, many people sporting Carolina blue (evidently the UNC Spring Football Game was held at 3 p.m.) and formal wear (we still have no earthly idea why). And suddenly I was reminded of the just-as-important corollary to the aforementioned edict: With Proper Planning, and the Favor of the Parking Gods, Thou Shalt Enjoy the Bounty of the College Town (Hallelujah!) Successful commemoration of Derek birthday: check. Now from this experience, I know I'd better start figuring out what to do for MINE in two weeks!

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Living like a Tourist is Pretty Cool...

Okay, where were we? Right: Saturday. After everyone finished their various activities...athletic and spiritual and what have you...we reconvened at Casa WestEnders to discuss that most relevant and important of topics. That's right, folks, I'm talking about DINNER. Now, there's a veritable plethora of eateries in the Chapel Hill/Carrboro environs--some of which we've tried and approved, and a whole bunch of which we haven't gotten to yet. So it never fails to raise the philosophical debate in my family: go to an already-scouted restaurant, one that we are certain will pass muster? Or check out someplace new, fresh, and exciting?

Then there's the other factor we must keep firmly in mind...weekend...during the semester...equals town(s) overrun by students. Since we're not big on the whole "standing in a long line" or (heaven forbid) "waiting for a table", we have to choose carefully when deciding on a dinner venue. (Fortunately, around here the vegetarian/carnivore conundrum isn't an issue, as most of the establishments cater equally to both. Whew! One thing checked off the list!)

So we got in the car to drive the two short miles into Carrboro and park, theoretically giving us the perfect vantage point from which to then walk up and down the main drag and select something appealing. However....our little 'burb was HOPPIN' for some reason, and parking options were noticeably scarce-to-non-existent. We did a mini-tour of all the free lots and garages I know offhand, only to find them all jam-packed. (Whaaat? Who are all these people, and why are they making my life difficult? Harrumph!) It looked like a totally festive, fun atmosphere--if only we could get out of the dang vehicle and join in the revelry...

Besides, no one had cooperated in giving me a firm idea of what they were in the mood for, so we were kind of flying blind, here. Finally, when I had just about reached my Driving Frustration Tolerance, Husband pointed out an empty space along the edge of a side street...that appeared...at least semi-legal-ish...so we pulled over and seized the day--um "spot". From there, we headed over to Carrburritos--a famous local joint, one that we'd been hearing about since we moved here, but hadn't yet gotten around to visiting. It's gotten awards, good press, blah blah blah--at this point we were just famished, and wanted to be fed.

As we should have expected from the evening's other prominent clues, however, the queue of diners standing around waiting to place their order was...substantial. I was THIS CLOSE to turning around and heading back out into the fray, but the tribe was more inclined to just stay put and be patient, so we toughed it out. Happily, the staff seemed experienced and efficient in handling the ravenous hordes, as the line moved briskly and we had our food in a reasonably short time. And I'm delighted to report that it lived up to the advance hype--yummy and completely satisfying. As it turns out, we were luckier than we knew, arriving when we did; as we were leaving I noticed a hand-written sign someone had placed on the entrance door that proclaimed they were "Out of Cheese"! Well, then...I have no idea if this is a regular occurrence for them, but nevertheless, Memo to Us: in case of burrito craving, show up on the early side on a Saturday night!

Okay, on to the next order of business: Girl Time with Mother Nature. When my friend was planning her trip to NC, she mentioned that someone else had told her the Duke Gardens were worth an excursion. My response was an unqualified, "You betcha, sister!" I'd only ever been once, in the Fall, and even then the displays were absolutely spectacular. It was actually on my To Do List to scope it out at this time of year anyway, to see how it differs in what they've planted from one season to the next. So Amiga and I braved the chilly morning--fortified by our first stop at Looking Glass Cafe, one of my favorite coffeehouses--to do a walking meditation through the substantial array of flora.

And as anticipated, it was an enormously impressive and varied collection of flowers, bushes, and trees....but you'll have to pardon me if my distinct lack of specificity doesn't do it justice. It's just that, without the helpful signs posted everywhere, I have no idea what anything actually IS. (Hold on--tulips! Roses! And daffodils! I know I recognized those...yeeeaaah, after that, I'm out...) It's all quite a peaceful and rewarding show for the senses--with rainbow hues enticing the eyes, sweet aromas tickling the nose, and splashing streams beckoning the ears. Now, all of this stimulation--along with the 6,000+ steps we recorded while soaking it all in, of course--contributed to thoughts of...lunch.

I had the brilliant idea of going to another of my favorite spots to pick up a quick and easy meal: Weaver Street Market, a co-op grocery store with a built-in cafe. We discovered an unexpected bonus when we perused the neighborhood--a small town fair, of sorts, with the road blocked off to automobiles, booths lining several blocks, and pedestrians...dogs...and bikers...meandering up and down, taking in the sights. Let's see, there was a demonstration of how to make pizza dough, with a whole crowd of interested bystanders each tossing their own circular piece into the air with what appeared to be barely-controlled enthusiasm. A martial arts school inviting small children to learn how to break boards with their hands. A Zumba dance-along for anyone having the urge to shake it in public on a Sunday afternoon. A climbing wall for intrepid adventurers to scale the heights...of Carrboro. (And a whole bunch of other amusing stuff...)

As we strolled along on a dazzlingly sunny, mild April afternoon, glancing around at the laughing children, frolicking pooches, and relaxed families, Amiga turned to me and asked, in a tone of part wonder, part disbelief, "Is this....Pleasantville?" Hahahahahaha! I mean, "Why yes, yes it is...minus the 50s frocks, perhaps." I must say, it was a fitting end to a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining weekend. And now, all I need is a NAP, and I'll be ready for the next volunteer who wants to come down and take the Grand Tour. Step right up, the Guest Bedroom is vacant!

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Something old, something new....

This weekend--besides the usual pandemonium revolving around athletic activities, of course--brought with it something new, fresh, and exciting: an out-of-town visitor! Since we moved to NC a little less than 2 years ago, the rampaging hordes of family and friends have not exactly been, say, beating a path to our door. In fact, we've entertained exactly ONE overnight guest, who stopped by on the way back from his parents' new retirement community in the other Carolina to our south. But he was only here for a short time--not even really enough to show him around or do any fun stuff together, unfortunately.

This time, though, it was a friend of mine from ye olde interpreting days, who was coming to our area to attend a presentation by an author/motivational speaker she follows. When she messaged me that she was going to be in Durham--also known as "the next city over from us"-- for a couple of days, I invited her to make use of our deluxe, luxury accommodations...um...make that "spare bedroom". (How special is the WestEnders Inn? She'd be sharing the hall bathroom with 2 adolescent boys. So really, it's more of a "stay at your own risk" situation--ha! Although Husband--without even being asked, so mad props to him for that one--informed me when I came home from running errands yesterday that he'd performed a "spot clean" on the facilities, to spruce things up for company. Potential embarrassment for hosts/gross-out for guest happily averted.)

After she survived the Interstate 95/85 Gauntlet and arrived safe and sound on Friday evening, the first order of business was a signing event that the aforementioned author was doing at Flyleaf, a local independent bookstore. I agreed to tag along, to navigate and keep my pal company--and let's face it, have some "adult/girl-bonding-time" as a bonus. (If you're thinking that sounds vaguely...I don't know...illicit?...I agree. But you know what I mean, so let's just go with it, 'kay?) As it turned out, though, rather than what we expected, which was kind of "stand in line, get your autograph and maybe a photo", the guy spoke for almost 2 hours--telling stories about his work, his personal journey, and his family...interacting with the crowd...answering questions. And I've gotta say, I found him absolutely fascinating and riveting.

Nothing like a little Food for Thought on a Friday night, yeah? But afterwards, we were sorely in need of some...Food for Tummies...as we hadn't eaten dinner before showing up at the function. So I ran through a long list of possibilities in my head as we drove through Chapel Hill and Carrboro, finally settling on a restaurant that Team WestEnders had not yet tried, but whose menu I'd already vetted and deemed worth a shot. (As with many eateries in our little corner of the world, the Bill of Fare accommodates and pleases both carnivores and vegetarians alike--yay!) Venable was loud, it was packed....but since we were only a party of 2, they were able to get us a table in about 5 minutes. (Again: yaaaaay!)

And the food did not disappoint--one salmon, one banh mi sandwich--and each of us was giving the yummy thumbs-up to our plates (which was the socially acceptable thing to do, as our mouths were quite busy with the chewing for a while). And of course, we got to continue chatting and catching up...albeit over the roar of the crowd...which was like the icing on the cake (only metaphorical, though, as we were much too full to actually consider dessert...which I realize sounds bizarre coming from me, but there you have it...) Then it was off to bed, as 3/4 of the home squad was signed up to run a 5K in the morning.

Whew....daylight seemed to burst on the scene faaaar too quickly, let me tell ya. A groggy threesome lethargically...monosyllabically...munched on bananas, slurped juice boxes, and eyed both the temperature and the gusting wind with...great reluctance. In my mind, today's pre-race pep talk consisted of: "It takes a half-hour or less...just get through it...then you can come home, get warm...and chug a gallon of coffee if you want." (In other words, "acknowledge and accept that this might very well suck....but do it for the java, anyway." Yep, that's a powerful message right there, folks...)

Pretty much the worst part was: standing (or, you know, hopping up and down like a manic bunny in a vain attempt to raise body heat and counteract the damn gale) at the Starting Line waiting for the horn. Somehow I failed to notice the marker for Mile 1, which actually worked out nicely, since the first indication I had of how far I'd gone was when 2 miles were already OVER. At that point you feel like, "Whoo hoo! I've totally got this!" It didn't hurt that the route they chose, through campus and town, included tree-lined streets in full Spring greenery, and a ritzy neighborhood of stunning houses with rainbow-hued gardens full of April blooms. So there was adequate distraction...which was helpful, because man, that last mile was the hilliest one of the run. (Memo to Organizers: maybe next year consider reversing the path? Just sayin'. Oh, and thanks, from one of the people sucking wind and slogging at the end...)

However, perhaps the conditions gave us extra incentive, because both boys finished with PRs, and even feeling like the proverbial tortoise, I logged the fastest time I've seen in quite a while (not setting any blazing speed records, mind you...but good enough for me...) And now, the payoff is a restful afternoon (well, except for Riley, who has a soccer game...poor baby....) and another dinner choice when our wandering warrior returns from her day of...learning...and introspection...and growth...and whatnot.  Or, if this ridiculous...cyclone-like nonsense...keeps up, we can always order pizza and stay inside where it's cozy. Either way, we'll go ahead and call it a W-I-N!

Monday, April 4, 2016

Another Walk in the Woods

Team WestEnders was moving a wee big sloooowly this morning, following yesterday's 6-mile hike-a-palooza...as well as the spiritually draining task of cheering on UNC in their Final Four appearance vs. Syracuse. So we took our time shuffling down to the free breakfast bar--okay, let's be totally honest, here: I got up, threw on my clothes, and made a beeline for the urns filled with rich, precious nectar...um..."coffee"...and the rest of the gang eventually joined me when they got themselves together.

Today's agenda involved a slightly shorter meander, 5 miles around Lake Badin, located in a different section of the same Uwharrie National Forest we visited on Saturday. So, once again we set off through the countryside, marveling at the...rural...ness...of the area we were passing through, and--being the city slickers that we are (ha!)--wondering aloud about such burning questions as: "How cheap do you think land is, way out here?" (Husband) "Where do these people get their groceries?" (the ever-hungry adolescent boys) And finally, "How far do the kids have to travel to go to school?" (Me)

Although our route took us on roads that at times were so small and insignificant that they bore only numbers designated by the State Highway Administration, rather than actual names, at least in contrast to yesterday's GPS snafus, we ended up at the right spot relatively easily. We only really encountered one issue; this occurred when Husband attempted to balance his phone, which was tracking our progress via Google Maps, on the edge of the center console where I'd stashed a banana for my mid-morning nosh. As I went around a turn at one point, the device slid out, and as Husband fumbled to catch it before it hit the floor he exclaimed, "Your banana is interfering with our navigation!" (Adding to the growing list of "words that really don't make sense together and should probably never be uttered in that order"...yeah, he's kind of the King of that, have you noticed?)

Anyway, when we arrived, we saw quite a few other nature lovers in the vicinity as well, which is always reassuring. Badin Lake apparently is quite the hotbed of activity for folks who enjoy boating, jet-skiing, fishing, and camping, as we saw evidence of all of these during our stay. However, we were the only ones who seemed to be actually, you know, walking the trail that skirted the water. Whatever--more room on the path for us, I always say. (Yeah, yeah, I've never said that, but I might just make it my Life Motto from now on...so there!)

I believe the tone for the day was set by Riley (who else?) as he plodded heavily along the dirt track, hunched over in a posture of utter weariness, and lamented, in a tone filled with anguish, "I'm physically and emotionally exhausted..." Then his head whipped up and he brightly pointed out, "Ooh look, a butterfly!" before he finished his initial thought, "And I Just. Can't. Go. Onnnnnnn!" (I swear, where did I get this Drama Dude? Oh, right....pot/kettle...never mind...) It was hilarious, and it pretty much summed up our experience: we were tired, but the lake was gorgeous, the exercise was pleasant, and we spied lots of creatures to distract us along the journey. (Today's sightings included lizards, a turtle, and ducks, along with the aforementioned winged insects.)

The other "advertised features" of the scenery, according to the guidebook from which Husband had chosen the location, promised "Vistas! There will be vistas!" as Riley enthusiastically proclaimed. Um...about that, honey...those "vistas" refer to the views all around you, so be sure to pay attention and enjoy them, okay? Oh, and "an outcropping"--which we assumed would mean an overlook of some sort from which one could presumably admire the....vistas. Aaaand, it turned out to be nothing more than a couple of gigantic rocks where you could plop down for a minute while continuing to contemplate the same water you'd been contemplating all along as you wandered around. Eh, it provided the bottomless pits--er, "sons"--yet another opportunity to break into the snack provisions, so it certainly wasn't a waste, by any means.

Speaking of which, this was honestly the only thing that impeded our progress at all on our trek--the fact that every time there was a "campsite", which seemed to be marked by little more than a stone circle with ashes where a fire had been, Riley declared it to be a good time to rest and refuel yet again. With all this eating...and silliness...it's a wonder we made it through the entire circuit, but we did. About 5 miles, in 3 hours, to add to our total for the weekend, bringing us up to a combined 11 miles and more than 6 hours of hiking. (And over 20,000 steps each day for me...but as for the calories gobbled up by the Male Minors--I don't even want to think about it...) All in all, not a bad way to spend the first weekend of April...now, bring on the Sunday Evening SOFA TIME!

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Uwharrie means...actually, I have no idea..

Let's face it, it's usually me who gets all "Must. Get. Out. Of. Town...NOW!" and plans field trips for Team WestEnders. But this time, Husband apparently got the travel itch, and proposed a hiking excursion to finish up the boys' Spring Break strong. He found the Uwharrie Forest in a guidebook that we own, and pinpointed two treks that sounded about the right length and difficulty. With the location being just under 2 hours of driving distance from us, he figured we could do one on Saturday, stay overnight in a nearby hotel, and tackle the second before returning home on Sunday.

My portion of the preparation lay in securing the all-important "place to crash". Now, back in my younger wandering days, this was no more complicated than looking up a hostel in which to snooze. (Yes, I'm sure you noticed how I refrained from using the verb "Google", as this was in the Dark Ages...pre-Internet. I know, right: GASP! And not one word from the Peanut Gallery about how old that makes me, 'kay? Thankyouverymuch...) And for some intrepid individuals, the c-word is an easy and fun option. I'm talking about camping, of course--what did you think I meant? However, I've said it before and I'll say it again: while I absolutely L-O-V-E the Great Outdoors, and I'll happily spend a loooong day in it--walking, sweating, getting dirty, whatever--when the sun sets, there had better be a bathroom...inside....with a shower...a meal that I, personally, did NOT have to build a fire for, or cook...and a real bed. (If this makes me a High-Maintenance Nature Girl, so be it.)

The point is, with a couple of full-size-boy-men (aka "sons") in tow, our family now has certain requirements that need to be met in our temporary home. Such as: free breakfast must be included--immediate morning access to coffee and sustenance is non-negotiable. Also important is the fact that, since the kids are no longer small and we're sharing sleeping arrangements, we just don't fit into less-than-Queen beds any more. Finally, for me it's essential that the entire property be smoke-free, so I don't have to even think about dealing with the heinous smell or fumes from cigarettes. So yeah, there's a bit more...research...involved when we travel nowadays. (Jeez, how I ever went anywhere before computers is a complete mystery to me, I tell ya...)

Anyway, after I procured the reservation, we were all set. There was the usual obsessive checking of weather (Husband), providing unsolicited packing advice about each and every item of the wardrobe that one should bring, in order to be ultimately prepared for the vagaries of the aforementioned meteorology (Husband), and...subtle rolling of eyes (the rest of us). Then I awoke this morning to the pitter patter--nope, make that splish splash plop--of raindrops. Hey! It's sooo not supposed to be doing that, today! (So much for forecasts, right?) We took off anyway, grumbling about the continued "showers", which Husband cheerfully assured us were supposed to end "about 10:00".

In all fairness, the drizzle did cease, and the clouds began to clear before we arrived at our destination....ahem...which almost didn't happen due to Husband's faulty GPS function. (No, not his phone, the man himself...perhaps that was the problem...) It was one of those: "Oh, that's our road! Back there...oops, my bad!" Several barely-legal U-turns later, we found ourselves on a muddy, sloshy track heading off the highway...which also appeared to be somewhat..."unauthorized", shall we say? But lo and behold, it dead-ended at the trailhead, as promised, and we got out of the car to survey our surroundings. We were admiring the greenery, stretching our legs, and chatting when suddenly Riley bent over to pick something up off the ground and interrupted the proceedings to yell, "Ooh, a rubber band!" Sigh....so it's gonna be one of THOSE hikes, is it?

Actually, though, it was lovely...albeit a bit...goopy in spots. It was the kind of adventure where you had to keep your eyes on the ground so you could avoid the worst of the puddles, and plan your route as to whether you went around, leaped over, or just tiptoed through the muck. There were lots of things we liked: stream crossings, small wildlife (lizards, frogs, one turtle that was sitting in the center of the path and that I darn near stepped on before noticing it) abundant flora to admire. And, because we're...well...US...there was no shortage of goofy conversation. Here's but a small representative sampling of the nearly continuous nonsense:

Riley (from behind a rock, where he'd gone to, you know, "utilize the facilities", such as they were): "Hey, I was 'boutta pee, when I looked down and saw a lizard right there!" The rest of us weren't sure how to respond to this--Uh, good job noticing the amphibian?--when he followed up with a firm, "Never pee on a lizard, I always say." (By the way, my beloved child, you've NEVER said that...and please don't start now! Love, Your Mother)

Husband (standing up after having relaxed for a few minutes on a fallen tree while eating a snack): "Is there lichen on my butt?" (At least he had the reasonableness to admit right afterwards, "I'm pretty sure those words have never come out of my mouth before." Uh-huh...and like I said previously, let's keep it that way. Love, Your Wife)

Oh, and Derek...he had a few doozies all to himself: Also during the food break, in which he'd elected to perch himself on a boulder, "Hey, this rock is perfectly butt-shaped!" (Meaning that it was a nice fit for his tushie...never mind...) About a second later, after he was presumably settled onto his throne, he let out a startled shout. When I turned to inquire as to what the HECK was disturbing the peaceful beauty of our outing now, for crying out loud, he sheepishly grinned and admitted, "A bug flew in my ear." Ay yi yi. Finally, as we stowed our supplies and got underway once more, I heard him say from behind me in an entirely unfazed tone, "I may or may not have just fallen into that tree..." (Heeeyyy, thanks for keeping us in the loop...gooberhead...)

Somehow, we managed to keep on trucking for about a 6-mile loop (Note to self: make appropriate sacrifices to the Tree Gods before trying this again....) It was clear that we'd reached just about the end of our stamina--and perhaps critically-low-blood sugar--when we paused for our final respite (and for the boys to consume calories, AGAIN) and Husband noted that we hadn't seen the promised "bluff views". Riley's witty rejoinder, delivered with a sly smirk? "Oh, yeah? What about the BUFF views?" Without even a conscious thought, I snapped, "Hey! No naked people in the woods!"

Whaaaat? Clearly I'd suffered more than the rest of the crew on our journey, and here's why: I hadn't realized, and maybe our Event Planner ("Husband") didn't know either, that this wasn't the kind of park that provided you a swanky Visitor's Center with such amenities as water fountains and....potties. Heck, there wasn't even a Porta-John at the entrance to the trail--or anywhere else, for that matter. Remember when I was detailing my love of creature comforts? Yeaaahhh, no matter how much time I spend tromping around in the wilderness--or what have you--I've never totally gotten adept or comfortable with the whole concept of "relieving oneself behind a bush". Therefore I declined to nosh during our 3+ hour jaunt, and can be excused for any lightheadedness and/or ridiculousness I was exhibiting by that point.

So, having successfully marched around the forest, we dedicated the remainder of our day to several pursuits: cleaning up a bit, obtaining dinner (because, you know, the boys' metabolisms had burned off their trail provisions by now), and watching Final Four basketball. Oh, and resting the legs for tomorrow's scenic stroll, of course! All in the luxury of our Hampton Inn--while simultaneously enjoying and appreciating the indoor plumbing and soft mattresses...aaaahhhhhh.....