Saturday, October 29, 2016

More Fall Wanderings....

Aaahhh, Fridays...I realize that I just took a field trip last week, so I wasn't exactly feeling an irrepressible yearning to go exploring again, yet...but the weather we've been graced with in the waning days of October has been soooo stunning that I couldn't pass up the chance to get out and take advantage of it...rather than spending my free time in a less entertaining, indoor way (such as...Costco--ugh).

Therefore I set my sights on Bentonville, a Civil War battlefield I've been thinking of visiting for a while (I know, you're shocked by this, right? Or...not...), about 75 miles to the southeast of Chapel Hill. Armed with snacks, songs, and shades, I hit the highway (that would be Route 40) for an easy journey--or so I believed. And actually, it WAS smooth and simple....riiiight up until I got off the interstate and approached the actual park. Suddenly the GPS instructed me to turn...directly into an orange barrier that firmly proclaimed: Road Closed.

Huh. Since I happened to be in the Middle of Nowhere, I was able to sit there at the stop sign for a minute and contemplate what to do. Peering beyond the sign, I could see that the passage looked clear--no noticeable, immediately apparent reason for the blockage. And, annoyingly, there was also a distinct lack of a handy Detour arrow or information to help out a sister who was just trying to go soak up some history...and stuff...dang it! Now, the rebellious portion of my brain piped up encouragingly, "It seems fine! Go ahead and try it...what's the worst that could happen?" Especially when, while I was involved with my internal discussion, several vehicles came toward me from the other side of the pavement, in no evident distress whatsoever.

But the Voice of Reason won out and I reversed my course, trusting the navigation app to find an alternate way in and re-route me. Which she did...about 6 more times, as Every. Single. Street. we tried was also barricaded. What the WHAT is happening here? Ohhhhhh....it finally dawned on me that I had neglected to consider the recent passage of Hurricane Matthew...because, while the storm dumped a couple inches of rain on us in the Triangle region, which was no big deal and quickly forgotten...it reportedly devastated areas south and east...which described EXACTLY where I currently was. Oops...

So, after driving around in circles--literally--for about a half-hour, and coming back to the precise spot where I'd begun this charming little misadventure, I was faced with a choice: give up and go home...or give in to the verrry tiny defiant whisper in my head that had begun to pick up some steam, egging me on: "Just do it! No one's looking! You can always turn around if, you know, the road is flooded...or washed out...or whatever..." And then, the moment that sealed the deal for me came when a pickup truck nonchalantly swerved around the sign, right in front of me. Well, that settles it--if HE'S going, then so am I! (Ha!)
And would you believe...the freakin' Visitor's Center lay just out of sight, maybe 100 yards BEYOND THE INTERSECTION. Seriously, you were practically on top of it, but unfortunately it wasn't visible, to let you know you'd almost arrived. Sheesh. It turned out that what they actually meant was that the road was closed  just PAST the park. Well, thanks a lot, Highway Department--that's super-helpful.

When I mentioned it to the first friendly staff member I encountered, he nodded sympathetically...because obviously he's heard this from absolutely everyone who manages to stumble onto the place, despite the...challenges. However...he also mentioned that all of their walking trails...are still off-limits, due to the damage that hasn't been fully cleaned up yet. BUMMER. (And, as an aside, it would have been nice to find ANY of this information on your website. I recognize that you're a historical location, but you're operating in the Digital Information Age, y'all. I'm just sayin'...)

Anyway, at least I had made it at last--and my recent lucky streak held, as the same employee was about to kick off a guided interpretation of the buildings preserved on-site. With his supervision, we were allowed inside the Harper house, which was commandeered as a makeshift hospital during the Battle of Bentonville in March of 1865, toward the end of the War Between the States. This skirmish was "the only significant attempt" to defeat General Sherman's large Union forces as they made their way through the Carolinas.

During the action, army physicians took over the downstairs rooms to perform surgeries..usually amputations, as the ammunition used at this time did so much damage that it left them few options for treatment. The Harper family-- husband, wife, and 9 (!) children--who were subsistence farmers, retreated to the upstairs rooms for the duration...and even afterwards, when some of the wounded men who couldn't yet be moved were left in their care.

Our narrator also opened the separate kitchen structure for us to have a peek, as well as the slave quarters (the Harpers owned 3, who all would have been freed when Sherman marched through). Besides that, there was really only the family's small cemetery plot and a few stone monuments that were open to the public. Oh--there was a driving portion that you could do on your own, pausing at each marker and reading the material...but since I'd basically spent most of the day in the car already, I opted to skip that. Perhaps I'll give it a while, and return when I can stroll the grounds a bit more...or maybe I'll just decree that I got enough satisfaction out of Bentonville, and move on to the next historical point on my list.

My excursion might not have gone entirely as planned, but I got to fully appreciate a warm, sunny, delightful Fall afternoon, I learned a few interesting things...and I was 100% successful in avoiding all things related to grocery shopping...I call that a big old W-I-N!

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Tales from the Kitchen (whaaat? yeah, you heard that right...)

Perhaps it was the newly-arrived Autumn weather that inspired such unusual behavior from me last weekend. Or maybe there was something...infectious...floating around in the air...like a virus...or an overabundance of Fall pollen. Then there's the (much more realistic and likely) possibility that I was finally just Fed. The Heck. Up. with my restrictive...boring...no-fun-whatsoever Elimination Food Plan that's now been going on for, oh, more than 4 months. Whatever the reason, I got a strange (for me) hankering to (wait for it...) COOK. (Feel free to go ahead and gasp--I completely understand...) And I'm not talking about just throwing together a dinner...I mean the real deal...using recipes I pulled from recent magazines....buying special ingredients that I didn't already have on hand...and, you know, "concocting...food products".

I KNOW, right? Totally bizarre and kind of disturbing, maybe even something to keep an eye on, in case it becomes habitual. (Ha! Yeah...not to worry...) Anyway, it began with an innocent apple crisp, which I decided to make for the office, to mark my one-year anniversary of working there. I mean, c'mon...apples, gluten-free oats, honey, brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon--doesn't that sound amazing? Well, I'm here to tell you that is absolutely WAS...so delicious, in fact, that I whipped up a second batch for the family (partially due to guilt over the fact that they'd had to bask in the enticing aroma while it baked...and then watch me take it away without sharing any! Oh, and also...I wanted to eat it again. Hey, is that so wrong? Fruit, whole grains--it's practically healthy anyway, for crying out loud!)

That little experiment turned out so well that I continued my wild and crazy...culinary creation...by tackling a recipe for roasted butternut squash soup. Now, this was one item that I knew would belong entirely to ME, because--while I'm just a wee bit obsessed with it--the male portion of Team WestEnders doesn't particularly care for...edible entrees made from gourds. I won't belabor the details, but suffice it to say that it was mouth-wateringly yummy...and made enough for me to enjoy it for 3 meals. (And that's what I consider a fabulous return for my grudging efforts in the kitchen, y'all...)

Finally, given my previous successes, I confidently prepared one more dish: an alternative to tomato-based pasta sauce, utilizing sweet potatoes and carrots instead. Since the red fruit...vegetable...whatever...is one of the things off-limits to me, it sounded like this option was worth trying. And it was...well...let's call it "a lesson learned". I ended up with a very weird, thick, sweet...paste?...that didn't taste quite right with noodles, and whose texture was somewhat off-putting, to be honest. Oh well, I gave it a shot, yeah? And after the first go-round, I just resorted to adding some ground hemp and walnuts for protein, and eating it like mashed potatoes. Eh, you win some, you lose some--I'll take 2 out of 3, any day!

Meanwhile, on an only-slightly-related note, since we're speaking of eating (as we do often do), Riley has been kind of...how shall I put this?..."even more food-oriented than usual" these days. For example, he confided one night, "I'm having one of those days, where I'm not necessarily super-hungry, but I could eat...like, every couple of hours. Like, if there was food in front of me, or if you offered me some, I'd definitely take it." I was processing this alarming bit of news when he added the part that was even more terrifying: "This happens about 5 days a week, lately..." Oh. Dear. I do realize that the boy's not finished growing yet, and I fear that we may very well wake up soon to find him several inches taller. Also, this may help explain why I've been feeling like I run to the grocery store every couple of days...sooo...at least now I understand? Somehow, that's not as comforting as I might hope...

However, at least I know that he's still following the...dietary education with which he's been indoctrinated by both school Health class and his fitness-conscious parents...since he also shared how, even though he wants to scarf down everything in sight, he's consciously trying to make good choices...an example of which he described thusly, "After school, I'll have pretzels...and a cereal bar....and a pear...and yogurt...and then I'm good!" (Wait...that was supposed to reassure me? Jeez Louise! All I can think of is that I'd better add all of those to my next shopping list...)

Then, in case I had any lingering worries about his....self-monitoring skills (which I didn't, but he was being so marvelously forthcoming that I encouraged him to forge ahead anyway) he added, "You know those pumpkin candies you bought for Halloween? I read the label (pause for a moment while your mother sniffles and wipes away a proud tear...okay, carry on...) and saw the serving size, and how many grams of sugar they have...so I probably won't eat them every day." (Yes sirree, that's my child: peruses the nutrition information and weighs the consequences before deciding whether to put something in his body--that is...at least in the days leading up to a major...sweets-consumption... holiday, like any rational human being! Eh, I'll take it...)

So...that's the latest random roundup of our food-related adventures. With trick or treating looming on the horizon, maybe I'd better look up a couple more wholesome recipes to counteract the upcoming influx of junk. And, of course, I need to re-stock the pantry...fridge...and freezer...before the younger teenager's next snacking frenzy! Food Lion, here I come...AGAIN...siiiiighhhhh...

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Catching up with the calendar

Well, folks, the weather recently took a sudden turn--fortunately toward the dee-lightful--and swept Fall right in along with it. I swear, it seems like we went from 1,000 degrees and 250% humidity (this is meant to be an educated estimate, of course...I'm only an amateur meteorologist, ya know...mostly I base my forecast on "how disgusting the outside air feels" coupled with "the amount that my clothing is sticking uncomfortably to my body") to donning multiple layers and turning the heat on in the house to keep warm. Needless to say, it's a very welcome change after our somewhat sweltering Summer, and we here on Team WestEnders enjoy this time of year to the hilt

Speaking of which, with the newly arrived Autumn-like conditions, it finally felt as though it was an auspicious time to procure pumpkins to adorn our porch. Now, in bygone days, this constituted a carefully planned outing to a local farm. There we would tromp around the fields and consider the vast array of available gourds, by examining them thoroughly for such important qualities as: potential carveability, pleasing shape, adequate size, and sufficient weight to indicate an abundance of seeds inside, for later roasting. Inevitably on such a sojourn there were also hayrides, corn mazes, apple cider, and other amusements to keep the kiddies happy. Ahhhh...good times.

But nowadays...my sons are teenagers...and here's how it goes:
Me: (enthusiastically) "We don't have any pumpkins yet!"
Riley: (gravely) "Where are we gonna get them?"
Me: "Um...I...don't know..."
Derek: (unexpectedly taking on the role of Mr. Practical) "We could always just pick them up at Harris Teeter, right?"
Me: (sighing) "Sure...but what fun is THAT?!"

In the end, we compromised by patronizing Southern States (right next door to H.T., but with their emphasis on gardening and landscaping supplies...somehow feeling more...authentic....or something...), where they presented an impressively attractive and varied display of pumpkins outside the store for you to wander through and peruse. I was prepared to compare the merits of many specimens with the boys, and discuss the subject at length--as long as was necessary, in fact, to find just the right ones for our Halloween needs. Aaaannnd...they each had selected theirs in oh, approximately 5 minutes. (Honestly, while I believe Derek might have grabbed the first acceptable one he encountered, Riley actually apologized for taking a little extra time, saying, "You know I'm a little OCD, so I want to make sure I make a good decision." Not a problem, dude--you are once again proving to be your mother's child...)

The other harbinger of the season...at least for the Male Posse around here...is their annual obsession with all things college-football related. I'm not kidding you, Derek actually tries very diligently to arrange his weekend schedule based on what key Top 25 match-ups are happening, and in what televised time-slot. (Yes, it IS a little disturbing, to this staunchly anti-football person, I'm not gonna lie...but what can ya do? Oh yeah: studiously IGNORE it, and wait for it to eventually go away. Also, for a brief, glorious stretch, I intend to focus on the World Series, which may not involve my Orioles (boo), but also doesn't include the Yankees (YAAAAAYY!), and even better, pits two teams that haven't won the Big Finale in a combined...one hundred seventy six years (BONUS!!).

Anyway, to take their love of the game even further--and outside in the fresh air--they often grab a ball and run pass routes in the front yard. But lately for some reason they've gotten into kicking the ball as well...which in order to be performed in the most realistic manner, necessitates...a goalpost of some kind to be used as a target. Therefore, they were motivated to attempt to construct one, using scraps they scrounged up from the garage (a broken street hockey stick, some random plastic pipe)...and copious amounts of duct tape (naturally. Because is there any project conceptualized by a guy that doesn't require this all-purpose item? Yeah, I didn't think so...)

So, how's it going, you ask? Well...let's just say that the prototype...wasn't...um...terribly durable. However, we made an excursion to Lowe's today to pick up some additional pipe in a lighter, smaller diameter size, and they have high hopes that this will fix the balance and adhesion issues they've been dealing with thus far. (And by the way, despite my aversion to football itself, I fully support this endeavor--it seems to foster cooperation, stimulate creativity and problem solving, inspire engineering skills...and, when things go awry, offer opportunities for practicing positive anger management techniques--ha!)

And that, my friends, is how we're getting ourselves into the proper seasonal mindset to appreciate the bounty of Fall. Hey, we have the materials to make jack o'lanterns happen...the trick or treating supplies are already safely stashed away in the pantry for the 31st...I think we're well-prepared...have I earned a pumpkin spice latte? (Aren't you proud of me? I made it to the Very. Last. Sentence before working that in--extra whipped cream for me...whoo hoo!)

Friday, October 21, 2016

A Bit of History in Durham

It had been a while since my pal...Nikon...and I had been on an outing together, so I was tremendously pleased when I woke up today to find, not the gloomy, shower-y weather that had been forecasted, but rather a gloriously sunny, pleasantly cool Fall tableau on display outside the window. Even with a laundry list of "To Do" chores (which, oddly enough, did NOT include...actual laundry...for once) I couldn't pass up the golden opportunity to take an overdue Friday Field Trip.

One historical location that I'd been hemming and hawing about visiting since we moved to North Carolina over two years ago was the Duke Homestead. And I know what you're probably thinking...but no, not necessarily because of the association with that rival school up the road that we shun whenever possible. More so due to the fact that the Duke family made its money growing, and later processing, tobacco--which the well-preserved farm proudly showcases--and anyone who knows me even a little bit is aware of how I feel about that particular crop...and what it's used to make. (Relax, I'm not going to go off on a rant...I think you get the picture...)

But the site is close by and easy to get to, and I had a LOT of other stuff to take care of today, so I decided to give it a shot. By incredible good fortune, I arrived only shortly after the 10:15 guided tour had begun, so I was able to join the presentation already in progress. Now, normally I opt to forego these talks and just walk around on my own, but in this case I'm glad I didn't, since the lady leading the program was a veritable fountain of useful and interesting information. (She told us later that she's a graduate student at NC State in a new-ish field called Public History, which--rather than the more traditional academic side of the discipline--focuses on teaching you things like how to interpret history for the masses, how to run museums, and how to curate collections of artifacts. See what I mean? Super cool! Or was that just my nerdiness coming out? Yeah, it does that...)

 Anyway, she talked about Washington Duke and his wives, children, service during the Civil War (for the Confederacy, of course), blah blah blah, which I did find relatively entertaining. Then when she moved on to explain the tobacco growing/curing/manufacturing business, I just stood there with what I hoped was a polite expression on my face, twitching in discomfort, waiting for it to be over.

If there was one thing that I took away from her narrative, however, it was this shocking story: in the late 1800s, Trinity College had been asking the wealthy Duke clan for a monetary contribution, to support and improve their institution. Eventually, Washington Duke agreed to donate what amounted to, in the equivalent of today's currency, about 40 million dollars...enough to get it renamed...you got it....Duke University. So...Duke was essentially endowed by one of the biggest tobacco companies in the U.S. at the time...just one more reason (for me, anyway) to give it the cold shoulder! Ha!

However, to be fair, the locally-famous patriarch also acted as an advocate for African Americans (establishing Durham's first hospital devoted to serving them--still segregated, yes, but it was a start), the Methodist church, and women (one of his large monetary gifts to the university came with the stipulation that they begin to admit female residential students--yay, W.D!). Our little history class finally ended up in the house, which was filled with furniture and household items that were either true to the historical period, or original to the family.


My absolute favorite piece had to be the "pie safe" (also, you have to imagine that spoken in the sweetest, most delicate Southern accent by our guide...I'll wait...can you hear it? Lovely...)--a handsome cabinet with punctured tin on its doors, to allow air to circulate and cool food, while keeping bugs and critters out. Or, as I dubbed it, "a pre-refrigerator"...) It was all utterly fascinating, to be sure...but after seeing the cast iron oven...contraption....and the corn husk mop, I'm convinced that, had I lived in the 19th century, I would have detested cleaning and cooking EVEN MORE than I do in my own time! Don't get me wrong, it's all very charming to look at and learn about...but give me a microwave and an electric floor cleaning device (if I must) any day thankyouverymuch.

So, that concludes my report on my brief, engaging foray into America's byegone days. It was a delightful way to spend a Friday morning, before commencing the mad rush of necessary errands. And, since all this...history....ing...left me ravenous, I made a slight detour to obtain some nachos, which I'd been craving, for reasons unknown. Which kind of sums up my final thought: exploring the past is undoubtedly rewarding, but it inevitably reminds me to give thanks for our blessed modern amenities...like fast food...am I right?

Friday, October 14, 2016

The Latest Goofiness...

So, Husband had to go visit his parents in the wake of the recent hurricane, to help them get re-organized...clean up the inevitable debris in their yard...and deal with the anticipated pandemonium of the grocery stores that are likely to be swarmed by people needing to restock their refrigerators after losing all their food due to power outages. The bottom line for the rest of us left behind? All of the household silliness--rather than being shared and managed between two parental units--comes MY way while he's gone. Um...yaaayyy? What follows is representative of the conversational sample from this week so far:

D: "Where would I find soap?" (Then, helpfully clarifying) "Like, for the shower?"
Me: (Hesitating, wondering if this is a trick question, since I know that I JUST bought more, and placed it in the exact same spot where it's ALWAYS been kept) "Um...in the hall closet..."
D: (Looking mildly perplexed) "Really? 'Cuz I already looked there, and I didn't see it."
Me: (Unspoken response: Gasp! SHOCKER! Imagine...you...staring right at something and yet still missing it? Gee, that never happens!). But what actually came out was,"Go look again." Then the implication of his question hit me and I felt compelled to add, "Wait...so you showered with no soap?"
D: (Reassuringly) "No, I made do with the tiny bit that was left." (Well, that's a relief, anyway...)

I didn't hear anything further, and moved on to other matters, forgetting about this little issue. Then later, when I needed something from the linen closet, I noticed that the bars of soap had been opened, so I figured Derek had successfully managed to find them at last. I just couldn't help but ask, "So, was the soap close enough to where you were searching that it bit you on the toe?"
D: (With a sly grin, knowing he was about to say something ridiculous...which would most likely cause me to have a conniption) "It was WRAPPED. I don't know what it looks like in the wrapper."
Me: AAARRRRGHHHHH!

At this point Riley passed by, on his way to take his turn in the shower, and wondered about all the commotion, "What's the conversation about?" I proceeded to relate the tale of his brother's...ineptitude? Helplessness? Whatever... Riley nodded sagely during the telling, interrupting once to confirm, "You mean, on the floor of the linen closet?" (YESSSS! Finally, someone with a Y-Chromosome who doesn't suffer from Male Pattern...Visual...Obliviousness Disease! Yeah, yeah, I just made that up...but can I get an 'amen' from all my virtual sisters out there? It's totally a thing, right?)

Then he entered the bathroom, reached in to turn on the water...and loudly proclaimed that Derek STILL had failed to replace the soap. Sure, he stored some extras in the vanity cabinet...but did he place any in the actual soap dish? Not so much. When confronted, did he apologize for his inconsideration, and jump up rectify the situation? Pfft...he shrugged and flippantly retorted, "I already showered, so it wasn't my problem!" While I was glaring at him...and whacking him with a towel (admittedly completely ineffective as a consequence for his behavior, but extremely satisfying, nonetheless) Riley was standing by, in the throes of hysterical laughter. Before heading off to get clean, he sobered up enough to throw a parting shot over his shoulder, "Well...you wanted kids!" To which I shot back, "Yeah, but I'm not sure I wanted THAT one!" (Siiiighhhhh.....)

But wait, there's more...(isn't there always?)
Since Riley has soccer practice three nights a week this season, and I don't particularly enjoy the whole "preparing food" thing (which Husband finds incredibly ironic, given my well-known penchant for watching other people do it on the Cooking Channel) Derek has been experiencing...let's call it an invaluable opportunity to expand and refine his...Fending for Oneself skill-set. This tends to involve me either supervising or instructing, while he concocts his own dinner. (Sometimes I'm soooo tempted to start the process by handing him a basket with four mystery ingredients, informing him that he "also has use of our pantry", and setting a clock for 30 minutes...after which I would evaluate him on the taste, presentation, and creativity of his offering...before telling him he'd been "chopped" anyway--hahahahahaha!)

Now, keep in mind that so far (except for grilled cheese, which he's mastered) we haven't actually moved beyond rudimentary steps...such as microwaving, or heating up frozen items in the toaster oven...not exactly what you might call "gourmet cuisine", but he's gotta start somewhere, right? So anyway, one night when Riley had left, we made our way to the kitchen for the nightly ritual. Unlike most evenings, however, I was actually going to be following a new recipe I'd found, for a Brussels sprouts side dish. Therefore we were forced to kind of dance around each other as we moved from one appliance to the other, or jockeyed for available counter space.

(Side note: I was mostly to blame for this, since my directions called for me to employ the food processor to shred the sprouts...and I swear, when I was finished it looked like we'd suffered some kind of...vicious vegetable attack...with green, leafy shrapnel spread across most surfaces. How come the professional kitchens on TV never look like that? Oh yeah...support staff tidying up when the cameras aren't  rolling. Think I can hire myself a crew...who would work for free? Wait...that's what children are for, right? Hot-diggity! Best. Idea. EVER...)

As I was saying: after dodging me yet again, Derek huffed in (mock) exasperation and announced, "We need a chef's kitchen!" (Let me pause for just a moment and acknowledge the fact that he knows this term...either warms the proverbial cockles....or makes me vow to ban him from binge-watching HGTV during the Summer...it's about 50/50...)
Me: "What are you talking about?"

D: (Working up a nice head of melodramatic steam...while completely faking the actual indignation)"When two people are trying to cook in here, there's not enough room! And with me needing to do more cooking for myself these day...with you people not providing for my every need anymore...we need a chef's kitchen." (My favorite part about it had to be the little dig about us super-mean parents, making him get his own dinner together. Nice one, dear! Oh, and by the way, "Too Bad"! Love, Mom and Dad...)

Me: No response really seemed necessary, so I just laughed at his little tirade and carried on with what I was doing. Then as we--without any difficulty whatsoever, mind you--skirted each other on the way to unload the dishwasher and put away the bread in the refrigerator, he vehemently concluded, "See? It's chaos in here, I tell ya!" (It was like...a surprise dinner theater performance...so I guess I should be...appreciative? And not forget to tip my waiter? Oy...)

Ay yi yi...eventually Riley--or, as I like to call him, Preferred Son (for right now, at least...the title is reassigned on a regular basis, as warranted) returned home from his team workout, famished as usual, and sat down to a bowl of the Brussels sprouts while his other course (Asian noodles, in case you were wondering) was nuking. While I was busy with my back turned toward him, I heard him abruptly exclaim, "This is so GOOD!" Wow...that's quite a reaction to Brussels sprouts, buddy. (I feel obligated to mention, here, that in our house, this particular item is considered something of a delicacy--such that when Husband saw them in the fridge, he expressed jealousy that we would be eating them without him while he was away. I know, I know...we're a weird bunch...)

So I regaled him with the tale of how messy they had been to prepare, likening the amount of effort and disarray to a "Thanksgiving-level recipe". His face fell slightly and he replied, "That's a shame ...because I'd eat these EVERY DAY." Needless to say, when I offered him seconds, he delightedly accepted, and powered through that serving as well. Yep,definitely the Preferred Son of the Moment...

Aaaannnd, that's the wrap-up for (3/4 of) Team WestEnders' week thus far. With the weekend coming, let's keep our fingers crossed for a quiet...nonsense-free...couple of days. Too much to ask? Maybe I'll just hide in my room and let them fend for themselves...I mean, what could possibly go wrong? (Don't answer that!)

Monday, October 10, 2016

Growing Pains...and a Hurricane (ish)

This past week provided some of what you might call...Valuable Learning Experiences for Team WestEnders, whether by choice...or by having them thrust upon us. First off, there was the optional Junior Parent Meeting at Chapel Hill High School (which of course we didn't need to attend, since we've been at this "parenting thing" for quite a while now, so there's no WAY we can be considered "junior"...oh wait...I get it...never mind...).

Now, I'm the one who normally--okay, "always"-- shows up at these shindigs, collects the handouts, listens attentively to the presentations, takes copious notes, and returns home to give an oral summary on what I absorbed. However, this particular timeslot interfered with my new passion, PopUp Chorus, so I deputized...or, you know, "assigned"...Husband to go in my stead. (I can't say he was overly thrilled to be appointed, but since that turned out to be the night I was very ill, I couldn't have done any singing OR seminar...izing...anyway.)

Reportedly there were representatives from two of the three local universities (that would be the Friendly College Up the Street--UNC...and that other one...with 4-letters...that we decline to name...kinda like the Voldemort of our area--ha!) who shared information about the application process. The Counseling department also lectured on what 3rd year students should be doing--and when--in the whole upcoming season of "preparing for Life After Graduation".

One of their topics, naturally, centered around those dreaded exams-from-hell...you know what I'm talking about: diabolical SAT, and his evil cousin ACT. This was quite timely, since I'd signed Derek up to take a practice SAT on Saturday. (Yes, this would be one of those...ahem..."involuntary" events to which I was referring...) He accepted the fact that he would be getting up early and spending his entire weekend morning on a fairly unpleasant activity with good grace...mostly. His one, vehement comment when I told him about it was, "There had better not be any good college football games that I'm missing that day!" (Um...since even I know that they don't play at 10 a.m., you should be fine...but consider it "noted"...)

And Saturday, as it happened, was the day that we here in North Carolina received our portion of Hurricane Matthew...so it didn't really matter as much that he was spending a couple of hours inside while it poured...and gusted...and flooded...in the Great Outdoors. (Right...except for the whole "very long test" issue....but whatever...) One nice feature of this particular mock exam was that you got your scores right away when you finished--apparently the students themselves entered their responses online at the end, so they basically graded their own work! Therefore you left with some idea of your strengths, as well as the areas you might want to focus on when you prep for the actual one that gets reported to your preferred institutions of higher learning. All in the category of "very good to know".

With that out of the way, it was time to figure out how to spend an exceedingly rainy afternoon. Let's see...stuck indoors...time to kill...I know: might as well bake something...preferably under the heading of "decadent, gooey and cocoa-licios", yeah? This of course was not a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, given my current dietary guidelines. Nope, it took thought, and research, and a trip to the grocery store for provisions--but by the time the storm hit, everything was ready to go, for the creation of (drumroll) a Vegan...Flourless...Chocolate Cake.

C'mon, before you roll you eyes or dismiss it as sounding weird and unappetizing, keep in mind that I was super-excited about this; not only did the total lack of flour mean I didn't have to deal with purchasing and substituting almond or rice or some other kind for the usual (non-gluten-free) wheat, but this recipe didn't call for any eggs (or, as I like to call them: My Arch-Nemesis). Total WIN, y'all! To my surprise, when I asked Riley if he'd like to get in on this creative cooking session, he readily agreed. (Thanks to the Middle School elective he chose last year...Family and Consumer Science...what we used to call good old Home Ec back in the olden days...he's seems much more enthused about...culinary concocting. Yay!)

So we measured, and mixed, and melted...and then when I finally got to the bottom of the page and read the last instruction...it said to allow the finished product to chill...OVERNIGHT...before serving. Dude! Clearly, you (shadowy Internet chef person) haven't met us--we don't possess anywhere NEAR the kind of patience...or self-restraint...for that kind of...nonsense. So we decided to give it a couple of hours--until after dinner--and then take our chances. (I mean, it's chocolate cake, not brain surgery...what could possibly go wrong?) And you know what? It was utterly DIVINE. Okay, so it was kind of a cross between a thick pudding and a cake, but you could not ask for more over-the-top chocolateness. (Now if I only had a blast chiller, like they always show in the Chopped kitchen on the Food Network...hey, Christmas is coming, right? Hmmm...)

Okay, now we arrive at: Derek. He had asked me--maybe the week before--if it was okay for him to go to the UNC football game with friends who had tickets. At the time I'd given permission, but obviously that was looking reeeaaally...ill-advised...in the current conditions. Even the night before, when we'd revisited the topic, he'd stubbornly insisted that they were still going. I'm not honestly sure if he didn't believe me about the forecast, or if he was just consciously choosing that blissful state known as Denial, but I finally dropped the subject in exasperation, since we were butting heads and getting nowhere.

In the morning when I brought it up again, however, in the indisputable face of the driving rain and howling wind outside the house, he laughed and said, "Oh, I'm not going!" (I resisted the urge to throw something (soft) at him...although it wasn't easy...can I get an Attagirl from my fellow moms out there, for not punishing the ridiculous behavior of my adolescent son ? Thankyouverymuch...)

But after he returned from his testing adventure, he relayed that some of his buddies were, in fact, planning to show up at the game. I'm sorry, WHAT? Have your formerly rational, intelligent pals suddenly lost their ever-loving minds? Which part of "hazardous driving conditions", "meteorological warnings from the National Weather Service" or...SOAKING WET UNDIES sounds appealing to you people? And can I just tell you the boatload of grief he gave me for even suggesting that he might be forbidden to go?

I'm not kidding, he actually pulled out this line as a fundamental part of his argument, "Mom...you're preventing me from having stories that I can tell my grandkids one day!" (Sheesh! How uncharacteristically melodramatic...) Let me be the first to share something with you, my child: just because something is dangerous and stupid does not necessarily make it a stellar memory. (Weeeeellll....sometimes, yes, but that doesn't support my side of the disagreement, so SHHHHH!)

He got a little persnickety with me about the fact that I was squashing his inalienable right...to go out and be an idiot...or whatever...but meanwhile I was wondering: what's up with these other parents that are evidently just blithely permitting their kids to go sit in the stands during hurricane-fallout...to watch a silly football game? Seriously? (So, I guess I'm the hard-ass on the block. Eh, I'm totally comfortable with that.) Anyway, one of the other guys finally regained his senses and came to the conclusion that he didn't want to go, either, so in the end Derek got together with 2 other friends to do some sports viewing in front of a big TV...with snacks....and need I mention: completely warm, dry clothing.

So there you have it. another week of boys being boys...and their loving Mom and Dad trying their best to keep them on the straight and narrow...and out of the storm (yes, sometimes literally). Today I'm happy to tell you that in the After-Matthew (ha!) we're being treated to blue skies, Fall temperatures, and bright sunshine. And whatever the coming week brings, I know I can whip up an awesome vegan, gluten-free treat to help me get through it...and even send Derek out (safely!) for some whipped cream, if necessary! Mmmmm......it's all good!

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

When good medicine goes bad....

Sooo…I’m recovering today from a rather…interesting…night. (And no, I don’t mean in the same outrageously wild and fun way I experienced in my 20s…tragically….) My best guess at this point is that I suffered a reaction—or in layman’s terms “grossly unpleasant and fairly painful episode”—related to the flu vaccine I got earlier this week. (I know, right—how weird is THAT? Only me, folks…)

You see, for the past…oh, more than a decade, I’d say…I’ve opted for FluMist over an injection. While I’m not needle-phobic by any stretch of the imagination, my rationale has always been that I’d much rather have a quick, easy squirt in the nose over an equally fast…but ouch-y…shot in the arm. However, when I asked about it this year, the boys’ pediatrician informed us that the CDC was not allowing distribution of the nasal version, due to its being found “ineffective”. Well…dang it! And thanks in advance for the sore arm, you…heartless government agency… (Yeah, yeah, "whose job is to protect the public with the best and most current medical information" and all that...whatever, don'tcha know this is all about MEEEEEE?)

Therefore Derek, Riley and I went to CVS to bravely suck it up and get it over with on Monday afternoon. Now, you know the standard list of questions they always give you before they consent to jab you with a sharp object--are you pregnant/sick/blah blah blah? I usually skim right over those, barely registering them, ticking off the “No” box without giving it much thought. This time, though, one of the queries gave me pause: are you allergic to eggs? Hmmm…the short answer is no…not technically, anyway…but thanks to the naturopath, we’ve figured out that I’m at least sensitive to them. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided it would…probably…be fine, and completed the form.

And afterwards, all seemed well--there were no immediate discernible effects, outside of the usual tenderness in my upper arm. The next day, however, rather than dissipating, the discomfort seemed to be spreading. And then, around lunchtime, I developed a headache that I can only describe as vice-like….while somehow throbbing at the same time. Oh, and then my stomach got into the act as well, becoming alarmingly queasy. It was altogether freakin’ delightful, I tell ya. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’m rarely ill—and even when I do catch something, my digestive system is NEVER involved, so this was very disconcerting…on top of being disagreeable. Or, if you’d prefer a picture: it quickly degenerated into a “curl up in a ball under a blanket and whimper” kind of situation.

Before succumbing to the misery, I took a quick minute to consult Dr. Internet by Googling “reaction to the flu vaccine”. Besides the universal “achiness”,  headache (check) and nausea (oh, yeah) were also mentioned. Furthermore, as if I needed additional proof, that…um…”intestinal  symptom”…that shows up so clearly when I eat eggs? Yeah, it made an unwelcome appearance as well. All of this led to a sleepless, extremely unhappy night…right up until about 3:30 a.m., when I finally felt my stomach had calmed down enough to be trusted with some Ibuprofen—which helped to  knock out the monster headache, allowing me to fall asleep at long last….for a couple of hours at least.


Today, the worst of the storm seems to have passed. I feel relatively back to normal--albeit exhausted, a little weak and woozy from lack of food and rest…and my appetite hasn’t rebounded yet, either. I suppose…if I had to choose… 12 hours of adverse consequences outweighs the week-long disaster that the actual influenza virus brings if you contract it. BUT…I already looked it up, and they’ve just recently developed an egg-free alternative vaccine. If I can find that anywhere near me, I might have to make that happen next year. Fingers crossed…for now, please excuse me while  I go make some hot tea and (gluten-free) toast!

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

A Soccer Saga

Derek first started playing organized soccer when he was about 6 years old. When we signed him up, the local league placed him on a team comprised mostly of other kids from the elementary school he attended, as they were wont to do. His assigned coach happened to be the father of a boy Derek already knew from class…and the rest is history. From that point forward, we registered him in the Spring and Fall and requested the exact same coach. As for the kids, there was a core group of soccer enthusiasts who stuck with it, like Derek, and they literally grew up on the field together. It was a fun-loving, tight-knit bunch--who learned a whole lot about the Beautiful game, of course, but also about sportsmanship, fair play, being a good teammate, and other intangible, invaluable Life Lessons.

It just so happened that our move to North Carolina coincided with Derek and his friends aging out of that particular organization anyway, so his Maryland recreational soccer career would have ended one way or the other. We then had to figure out how to navigate the complex Wide World of Sports in Chapel Hill…which involves multiple tiers of competition and a befuddling array of options.  Almost by trial and error, we ended up getting Derek a tryout with a team that was short a few players and looking to fill up their roster.  The coach offered him a spot, and so we entered the unfamiliar new realm of Triangle United.

It turned out to be an extraordinary stroke of luck that Derek landed with this gang—another personable group of boys who enjoyed laughing and goofing around together as much as they did kicking a ball and running.  And their fearless leader—a massage therapist by day, if you can believe it—turned out to be someone who worked them hard, and certainly would not hesitate to yell when he thought it necessary…but also let them have FUN. Derek would routinely come home from practice sweaty, exhausted, and famished…but also grinning broadly about the time he’d spent on the pitch with his buddies, and with amusing stories to share about their exploits. In short, he not only improved as a player during his time on that team, but enjoyed the heck out of that year, as well.

The following season, however, was not so charmed. Yes, he was selected for the same squad…but many of his former teammates had either been chosen by other coaches to fill holes in their lineups, or had decided not to play for whatever reason. Also, his former coach wasn’t available (we think he was getting married—a very good excuse!) so they were assigned a different one. Therefore, not only was the team chemistry non-existent…the new coach proved to be a sternhumorless…hmmm, how should I phrase this…pretty downright negative person.

Fairly early on, I got an unfavorable impression of him just from the tone of his emails, but even more evidence came from Derek, who reported that this guy’s “teaching style” (if you can call it that) tended toward reprimands, insults, and punishment as his way of…I’m really not sure…maybe motivating them? Anyway, it didn’t fly with Derek—or probably with any of the other young men, either.  As you can guess, the result was that Derek did NOT have what you might call a “good experience” in his second season at Triangle—which is truly a shame when you’re putting in as much time, effort, and commitment as they require.

But, even coming off a less-than-stellar campaign, Derek didn’t hesitate to attend tryouts for the next year, which Triangle always holds immediately after the Spring season ends. Once again he was notified that the recommendation was for him to continue with the same team…although he figured out that he knew only one other person from the previous year…and there would be yet another new coach. Nevertheless, we sent in the registration check to secure his roster spot--and that’s about it, as nothing else happens for this age group until closer to November. However…noticing that I’d placed a sticky note on the calendar to remind me that another installment payment was due on October 1st, Derek approached me on Friday and uttered the dreaded words: “I need to talk to you about something.” (Uh-oh…bracing self for something bad/scary/infuriating…expensive? Gulp…)

Apparently, he’d been doing some thinking (always somewhat of a dicey proposition from a teenage boy…am I right?), and had come to the conclusion that…he didn’t want to play for Triangle anymore. (Pause to allow time for mouth falling open, brain reeling, heart pounding, hyperventilating—yes, of course I’m referring to myself! Okay, continue…) He went on to explain that, with the school term having begun, he didn’t think he was going to be able to manage 3, 90-minute practices a week (each one an hour round-trip commute), plus all the travel to games on weekends (at stadiums at least an hour distant)…on top of all the demands of his Junior year courseload (which he was just realizing was going to be quite rigorous). 

Clearly, he’d been planning his attack—um “approach”, because he even threw in how much money Husband and I would save by not having to pay for the Triangle fees, mandatory uniform items, team charges, tournaments…etc. Finally, with all that being said, he also admitted that he just didn’t think it was worth it, given how much drudgery…and little entertainment…had been involved in the previous season.

And you know, I get it, I really do. There’s no point in working your butt off to participate in a sport…if it’s not rewarding as well. All of his points were absolutely valid—the finances (considerable); the travel burden (major); the time commitment (extensive); the desire to focus on academics. (admirable. And by the way: Yay! You certainly know how to appeal to your mother…well played, son!) I didn’t disagree with any of them…yet I still wanted to burst into tears when he was relaying all this information to me. (Yeah, yeah, I don’t do that. But trust me, I was crying on the inside…) I mean, I’ve been watching this kid sprint around a field for a decade, playing a game that brought him great joy, with talent and skill…and while I had already started to at least try to steel myself for the Team WestEnders Soccer Era coming to an end…I thought I still had a few years left before I actually had to go through the painful withdrawal.

So…is this what it’s like when your children grow up a little bit, and want to take some matters into their own hands, rather than being content to allow Mom and Dad to control every aspect of their lives? What’s that you say? It’s a normal, healthy, and positive part of their development and their eventual growth into independent, successful adult human beings? Well, that’s all very well and good…but let me just say: it SUCKS…and I HATE it. (Obviously this is only my initial reaction…it’s gonna take me a minute—or, you know, a looong while--to adjust…I’ll get back to ya…)


And I do realize that at 16, Derek is plenty old enough to consider his alternatives and make some choices that affect him…especially when he’s taken the time to think things through, and present his argument in a rational way. And I also recognize that I need to give him kudos for that, and--after talking it over with him so we make sure we’ve covered all the bases--accept his final decision gracefully. Siiiggghhh.  At least I can take comfort in the fact that Riley is happily involved with his new team, so I won’t be entirely soccer-deprived this year. I’ll just have to bond with Derek over other topics…such as how, with all of his newfound free time, he can accompany me on the twice-monthly Costco runs. (Hey…that might even push him back toward wanting to take up a sport, just to avoid the Warehouse Chaos…mwah hah hah!)