BARACK THE VOTE

The sign in our yard during the primary season.

I feel like I've been waiting for this day my whole life...and in some ways, I have. I've been inspired by stories from our history of phenomenal leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and John Kennedy. I've often found myself wishing I had been alive to witness such leadership. I truly believe that today we have the opportunity to elect such a pivotal and inspirational leader in Barack Obama. I feel so nervous and excited about the election today...but mostly I feel grateful to live in a country where we all have a say in our government. Is it perfect? No. Do I care about who wins? Very much so. But today when I sat at a busy calling center making "get out the vote calls" with men and women of various races and religions that were anywhere from way younger than me to way older than me, I felt full of gratitude to be a part of a process where we all matter, none more or less than the other. I truly feel that no matter who you vote for, it's absolutely critical that we all make our voices heard. Democracy at its best depends on us all taking part and speaking our voice. To quote a cheesy poem I heard yesterday that I can't site because, I imagine, the author of it was too embarassed by its cheesyness to take responsibility for it (but I'm a sucker for cute little rhyme):

Vote for Obama,

or Vote for McCain,

but vote for someone,

or you can't complain.

It's a JUNGLE out there!

Our kids seem to have slept off their sugar intoxication from last night's Halloween celebration and are all snuggled up on the couch together getting their weekly dose cartoons.

I didn't like Halloween much as a kid. I have memories of a plastic Bugs Bunny mask jabbing me in the eyeballs, or my mom pulling a flowery blue dress out of my closet tieing a ratty stuffed dog to my wrist and saying, "This will make you look like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz" (It didn't...at all..as evidenced by every greeter at the doors I knocked on saying "who are you supposed to be?), or worst of all, when I wore a ballerina costume from a ballet recital of mine only to have some sweet old lady say to me as I thanked her for her treats and turned to hit the next house, "Oh, honey, is your tooshie cold?" in front of all my cool 5th grade friends--not cool.

After I was too old to trick-or-treat, the holiday seemed especially absurd to me. Who dedicates an entire day to the spooky and the scary?

But, now that I have kids of my own, I love the celebration. I love their excitement over the costumes and decorations. I love how they take such delight in the costumes of others. Most of all, I love how it's a night when the community pours out onto the streets and kids can knock on any porch-lit door and receive the goodness of strangers...in the form of yummy treats.

This year our three went as jungle animals.

Meagan was a giraffe. Jeff refabbed a size 5 costume into a a size 9 by building up the neck with an oatmeal box and adding extra giraffe material. She towered over all the other trick-or-treaters and was very easy to spot in the crowds of kids last night.

But, her neck would get sore and she'd have to rest for a bit here and there. What's a giraffe to do?:

James was a lion...a most adorable lion. The costume was lovingly created by his Grammy, my mom.

Sidebar: My mom, the same mom who told me the blue-flowered dress and ratty stuffed dog would do just fine for Dorothy, is, as it turns out, an amazing costume designer. It makes me hopeful that I too have some unhidden talents that will reveal themselves when I'm no longer raising children 24/7. Every fall, my mom has made anywhere from 1-5 costumes for her grandchildren starting from when Meagan, her first grandchild, celebrated her first Halloween as a caterpillar at just 10 days old. And the costumes are all amazing! Case in point: Last year, my niece won a community-wide costume contest in a Grammy created costume as...get this...Dorothy!

So, James was a lion all day. As he headed off to school in his costume, he said, with lion-like pride, "Grammy was sure nice to make his so warm and cozy for me."

As part of the photo shoot, I asked him to growl like a lion for the picture. James, who might be the sweetest boy in the universe, could only muster up this much of a growl:

Charlie was a monkey. A friend lent him this costume many weeks ago and he has worn it for a portion of almost every day since. He was excited to take his monkey act on the road last night:

(I love the banana in the back pocket).

Right after the kids got out of school, we went trick-or-or treating on our tiny cul-de-sac delivering pumpkin cookies to our 4 neighbors like we do every year:

The JUNGLE was well received by Bill and Kylie down the street who always buy extra special full-size treats for the kids every year.

Then we headed over to a Halloween gathering at our good friends' home. The kids all had such a fun time together:

Charlie monkeying around with his favorite matte, Gabe.

Meagan gives the party a long thumbs-up!

We parents stood back and enjoyed the splendor of seeing our crowd of a giraffe, a lion, a monkey, a pirate, 2 cowgirls, a tooth fairy, Superman, and a witch run from door to door yelling "Trick-Or-Treat".

When we returned to the house, we insisted that the kids let an adult check their candy to make sure it was safe to eat.

The LION apparently didn't get the memo that the candy had to be inspected before eating it. When he dumped his bag out for inspection, it was mostly wrappers. He had apparently been snacking on his treats all along the trick-or-treat route!

The MONKEY took great pride in counting all of his treats and shooed anyone away who looked like they might want to sample his stash--even his own mother.

The GIRAFFE made some sneaky trades with her brothers to bulk up her stash with her favorite treats.

No matter the disguise, their true colors always shine.

Chadder Cheese

My little brother is 34 today. Happy Birthday, Chadder Cheese! "Chadder Cheese" is a nick-name that this kid made up for Chad when we were kids, and I haven't let go of it. He may be my little brother, but I couldn't look up to him more. I admire the way he seeks knowledge (in high school he read the dictionary in his spare time). I admire the way he can be funny when you least expect it. I admire how he solves problems. I admire the way he looks out for our mom. I admire how he knows things you never thought he'd know. I admire how he adores kids--all kids--and delights in stories about them. I admire his sense of what is right and wrong. I admire his cool. I admire how he challenges himself physically, mentally, and spiritually. I admire his grit. I admire his persistence. I admire his dedication. I admire the man he is to his family (just look at him in this picture taken exactly two months ago when his son was born). I admire how he shares all this with his family, his friends, and his country...in his own quiet way, never for the sake recognition. Not just my world, but the whole world, is a better place with Chadder Cheese in it.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.

This is my Grandma with me on my birthday almost 10 years ago. She was at the tail end of one of her annual winter stays with my mom in Tucson. They came to visit for my birthday. She had asked my mom for suggestions of what she could get me for my birthday. My mom, knowing me so well, said, "I bet Angie would like nothing better than one of your lemon meringue pies." So, my grandma spent an afternoon making me this pie. I was in the first weeks of my first pregnancy and there was nothing that could have made me happier than to share my birthday pie with my grandma, my mom, my husband, and my unborn baby Meagan :).

This past Tuesday, September 16, was my Grandma's birthday. She would have been 96 years old. We lost her three years ago this past July. When the word went out that she was very ill after a heart attack, her four children, their spouses, all of their children, and many of their spouses and children were at her side within 24 hours. For me, I got the call just as we were about to head out for the 4th of July weekend for a camping trip in Colorado. I pulled my things and 11-month-old Charlie's things out of the car, threw Charlie on my hip and waved good-bye to our other three family members. Then, I booked a flight to Nebraska and was on the plane with Charlie the very next morning. We had decided that Jeff and the older two kids should continue on to meet up with our friends for the holiday weekend and that I would take Charlie and go be with grandma "just in case...".

We were all so blessed, really. Before she passed away, we each had time alone with her. I'll never forget, how when I walked into her hospital room with Charlie on my hip, she opened her bright blue eyes and looked at us and said, "Well, Angie and Charlie, you are here." She patted the space next to her on the bed, and said, "Sit down here." We did. Then, we chatted for a bit. That was the last time I talked to her. Within 24 hours, she slipped out of consciousness and then she passed away with her four children at her side.

The minute I got to Nebraska, I really couldn't bring myself to eat much. My stomach was too full of sadness at the prospect of not having my grandma anymore.

Nearly all of us-- children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren--stayed at her home while we traveled back and forth to the hospital where she was. As you might expect, the house was very grey and solemn after she died. In our sadness, most of us didn't know what to do with ourselves. We had quiet conversations and flipped through Grandma's mountains of books. We looked at old pictures and read the paper.

Then, my cousin Tracy, in stark contrast, got very busy pulling out our grandma's baking sheets and baking ingredients. She started baking up a storm. I remember several of us gathered around the kitchen and just kind of stared at Tracy in disbelief. Tracy seemed to take note of our confused and staring faces and matter-of-factly stated, "I bake when I grieve." And bake she did. Soon the counters were full of cookies and all kinds of other wonderful treats all made in Grandma's kitchen by one of her granddaughters, the one who bakes when she grieves.

I, for one, started eating again.

This idea of baking through grief has stayed with me. Every Christmas, I make Grandma's toffee candy and every year on her birthday, I try to make her lemon meringue pie. Neither are nearly as good as hers, but I'm continually drawn to following the recipes written in her hand as a way of re-connecting with Grandma at times when I miss her most.

This year, September 16th, fell on a lovely early fall kind of day. I spent a good part of the afternoon baking this pie :

With some "help" from one of Grandma's great grandchildren:

It wasn't nearly as beautiful or delicious as hers. But with some tips and advice from my mom and aunt (my grandma's two daughters), it's getting better every year. This pie is a huge improvement from the first one I made. That pie was so runny, I had to pour the pie into a glass and drink it. Which I did because, like my grandmother, I NEVER waste food.

I had a meeting at my house that night, so I reserved this pie for the meeting. With some more "help" from Charlie, I made some mini pies for the kids to have for dessert that evening.

The kids got very excited about the idea of putting a candle in their pies and singing "Happy Birthday" to "Grandma Great":

Happy Birthday Grandma, we miss you so.

Love, Angie

If You Want the Best Jam in the Land, You Gotta Make Your Own

"If you want the best jam in the land, you gotta make your own." This is the chorus to a song I first heard in my living room when our friend, Kylee, sang it to our kids as she played the guitar. Later I learned that Michelle Shocked sings it and if I can ever figure out how to add music to this blog of mine, I'll add the song to this post some day.

At the tail end of July, I got a call from my good friend Tiffany. Here's how the call went:

Tiffany (in her always enthusiastic tone): Angie! They have 25 lb. boxes of apricots at Farmer's Market for THREE dollars!!

Me (wondering why this is such exciting news): Sounds like a good deal for you...

Tiffany: NO! You don't understand! It's a GREAT deal! Go over and buy a box and we'll make jam!

Me: Tiff, I don't know how to make JAM!

Tiffany: That's okay! I'll show you. Go buy a box if you're in. (Click. She hangs up.)

The next thing I know, I'm forking out my 3 bucks for a very heavy box of apricots. I had committed myself to a day of jam making.

Early the next Friday morning, Tiffany shows up at my front door wearing the frilliest apron you've ever seen. It had ruffles like that of a can-can girl and this can-can girl had more canning supplies with her than she had ruffles in her apron. Our six kids got all kinds of busy playing and I put on my apron (not nearly as fancy as Tiffany's) so that Tiffany and I could get all kinds of busy with this project of ours:

First, we sterilized all our jars:


Then we made some tactical errors that cost us nothing but time until we consulted the directions in the boxes of pectin. Then, we got busy cooking down the apricots with pectin and more sugar than I feel comfortable admitting to in print:

We stirred and stirred the dreamy concoction until it was time to can it up with help from some of our six kids. Meagan was especially fond of jarring up the jam:

We experimented a bit trying reduce the rediculous amount of sugar and blending the mixture for a different texture. So, every batch of jam was a little different from the next. We joked that we should wait and label the jars after all was said and done. Some were best labeled "syrup", others "chutney", others "sauce" and still others the "jam" it was intended to be. Call it what you want, but we were pretty darn proud of all these jars:

This project, with the "help" of the six kids took all day long. And we never did get to the second box of apricots. That box would spend the day with Tiffany alone in her kitchen where she would try some new experiments like adding pineapple to the concoction, yum! As we spent the day together, we sustained ourselves on laughter and stories of our grandmothers who were champion canners.

Tiffany told me stories of her memories of canning with her mom and grandma and how they'd tap quickly on all the jars insuring that they were all safely sealed. I told Tiffany about how my grandma traveled with jars of pickles in her suitcase because she never wanted to disappoint my dad, her son-in-law, who anxiously awaited her signature pickles when she and my grandpa would come visit us.

We took another look at all our jars and decided we should be photographed with the result of a day's labor:

How could we have not gotten Tiffany's can-can apron in the picture?!

We really were quite proud. Then Tiffany brought us back down to earth when she said, "You know what, Angie, I was reading my grandma's journal once about how she made 4 bushels of fruit into jam. That's like 4 times what we just made and she did it all by 10 a.m., I'm sure of it! We're not really as cool as we think we are."

Still, we decided we were cool enough to enter our jam in the county fair. On Friday night, we went to the fair to take part in some good county fair fun and to view all the entries, and guess what??!

It turns out we made the best jam in the land.

Here are some other ribbon winners at the county fair:

Meagan's Sunflower Photograph-White Ribbon


James' Horse Painting-Red Ribbon


Charlie's finger painting - white ribbon

Out with the Old, In with the New

Out With the OLD...

In With The NEW...

It is time for new pair of shoes. Actually, it is way past time. I bought those old sneakers in 2005 to train for and do the Susan G. Komen 3-Day Walk to fight against breast cancer. The walk was 60 miles and the training was more than that, so right off the bat those shoes have some serious mileage on them. I paid a pretty penny for them and made some good memories in those shoes, so I held on to them much longer than I should have. So, I finally got some new shoes and am breaking them in with new memories. I did a short walk to a friend's house and back to get them in shape for the Climb to Conquer Cancer last weekend. Here they are on mile 6 of the 7-mile hike up the mountain road to our local ski resort.

Through the end of this month, you can learn more about this CLIMB and even contribute to the cause of eradicating cancer by clicking http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/CommunityFundraisingPages/CTCGreatWestDivision?px=5753050&pg=personal&fr_id=10197

You are my Sunshine

You are my Sunshine...my only Sunshine. You make me Happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how MUCH I LOVE you, please don't take my sunshine away.

These are my three little sunshines in the sunflowers that blanket our mountain city after a string of monsoon storms, of which we've been thrilled to have many this summer.

I love when I see the first of these sunflowers pop up....and then I get just giddy when they start blanketing the land. I've even seen them growing out of rocks!

After picking up the kids from school on Friday, we did our annual photo shoot in the flowers. As is often the case with these three, things got a little silly.....and then things got even more silly...

Meagan is much more fond of taking pictures than having pictures taken of her, so I handed her the camera. Here is a slice of life from her perspective. The next six shots are hers. She plans to enter one of them in teh county fair in a couple of weeks:

James
picking a boquet
for his Momma.

PRETTY, PRETTY FLOWERS...

Charlie loves them all.

It only seemed appropriate, to continue relishing in these last days of summer with...

ICE
CREAM

CONES!!

Ice Cream always punctuates the perfect summer day with a smile, especially with prices like these:

Four ice cream cones (of course I had to have one too) for 2$, you gotta love it!