What IS chili?

 Tonight was the Civil Air Patrol Christmas party.

Nathan graduated his first group of newbies

out of Tango flight.

 

Including Cadet Airman James

The cadets made 10 different types of chili

and the Sr. members (including my husband)

were privileged to be the judges,

giving points for taste, smell and chili name.

 AJ dug out the recipe from long ago

that came from a generous soul

who gave up any claim to fame should

this chili become famous.



We didn't know she would need to present a name

so our chili was simply #7.

Looking back, the lack of name could have led to our demise

in the chili cook off.

Consider this:

3rd place: Roadkill Chili

2nd Place: Fire and Ice

1st place: Hot Costa Rica Chili

Frankly, I thing that for most people,

"chili" must have certain ingredients to qualify,

those being

A. Ground meat (even possum)

B. Kidney beans (light or dark)

C. tomatoes or tomato product

 

Ours had none of the above,

is called White Bean Chicken Chili,

has cumin and sage in it,

and tonight it was even vegetarian

(for the few of us who don't eat meat. Or roadkill)

 

The condition of the Sr. member judges

shall remain confidential

after sampling 10 different chili recipes including condiments

and Cherry Coke.



Jesus Wept

The kids are learning various stylistic techniques

to use in their writing.

One is the vss (very short sentence).

 

I love to read.

 I adore words. 

I read a ton.

Words, like music, can stir me in places that are difficult to reach.

 

I've made sure that the kids have been exposed to lots and lots
of good books, beginning early in life.
Living books are such a vibrant alternative to dry textbooks.
I'm so hoping that the love of books stays with them.

 ********

Friday night I was online reading the headlines

and within all of the horrendous details,

I was most touched by a vss.

This sentence describes the actions of one of the courageous

teachers in the latest tragedy,
 how she protected and  loved on her kids.

 

I'll paraphrase here to save time citing.
 

 

..."There, (she) read to the children."


Oh. That I would be that brave.

 

 



Addition to Blog

I'm starting a new dynamic to this digital journal.

The Guest Blogger who will occasionally

share something on their heart.

 

I have one brave soul working on a draft

so I thought I would retell a scene from yesterday which involves someone

who refuses to have anything to do with story telling on paper (or word processor).

We're working on it though.

Thus, the guest blog idea.

(photo from months ago
this is not the hair culprit)
 

 Several days ago set against the backdrop of loud footsteps marching to my bathroom:

 

"Mama, I am so sick of finding hair in my food.

 

Remember those scrambled eggs a long time ago?

 

And now this hot chocolate. I just swallowed a piece of hair.

 

And last night when I was baking cookies

and pulled them out of the oven,

they had a LONG piece of hair on them

straight from the oven.

 

This is gross"

 (pouring out entire cup of freshly made hot cocoa in my sink).

The Boat

A friend emailed these 2 photos to me awhile ago.

 

I so enjoy looking a photos that I haven't seen a very long time.

 

I remember buying that little green bathing suit at Old Navy.

I remember how Nathan luved to drive anything at that age.

I remember the squishy floating Nautica keyring for the boat

and the feel of the teak on my feet, the smell of the seats,

the feel of hair on my back in the heat.

 

 

 I love the ability to go back.

Selectively.

He Knows If You've Been Bad or Good

 The kids and I froze

while waiting for and watching the Holiday parade.

Correction: the girls and I froze.

 Kids do not understand how ridiculous

a mom feels when they under dress.

Any child under the age of 8 was fully prepared

to spend the day in Alaska, carefully

dressed from head to toe in winter gear,

drinking hot chocolate from their parents

thoughtfully packed thermos.



 

Even the (many) dogs in attendance

had more layers on than my girls.

 

As for me, no amount of downy feathers from any bird

will keep me warm at 8:15 a.m. in November.

It's a mental thing.

 

Nathan's squadron marched in short sleeves.

They were hot by the end of the route.

Of course.



Chivalry

 A few weeks ago I dropped the kids

at their classes

and watched as a cute boy
(who was dressed for fake injury day)
 held the door open from the inside
for a grown up who tried to tell him she could get it.
He refused, getting squished as she came
through the door with all of her belongings.

This is that cute boy.



He wore full camo that day,

having acquired a severe looking gash (from lipstick)

on his face

and a blood (paint) filled strip of tee shirt

wrapped around his leg.

I felt right proud of him.



Paint

Most of the rooms in our house are ready for a new paint job.

Even if the paint condition is in good shape,

most of the people are ready for a change.

Before Doug took the brush and the Hershey brown color to

Franchesca's walls,

she asked for a few days to do some doodling.



She had guests signing her wall
like a highschool yearbook.

It's just paint.

Running Just to Catch Myself

It's okay.

Everything is fine.

Just living the life that I will someday post about.

 

I'm thankful for the extra warm days this fall.

 Nathan just promoted to Chief Master Sergeant

in Civil Air Patrol.

And is in charge of the Tango flight for new cadets.

More on new cadets soon.

Franchesca just promoted to D2 in Pony Club.

What a long, cold day that was.

 

AJ and Solomon are taking their first classes outside the home.

 

Some things are seemingly always in a constant

state of change.

 

Some things feel like they will eternally be the same,

like the heavy, warm, penetrating,

soul soothing feel of the sunshine on my skin.

 

 We're coming back summertime.



What to wear?

 

My friend and I have been discussing

attire options for given events.

 

When I worked outside the home

and "dressed" everyday

in either pants with a percentage of polyester, coordinating jacket

and shoes to match

or a conservative dress with lots of jewelry,

I longed to stay home with kids

and wear cutoffs and t-shirts.

Now that I've been doing just that for 16+ years,

I appreciate any chance to buy and wear

something a bit "more"

not warmer but just "more".

Since weddings and funerals are part of life,

I've acquired some real clothes (and shoes) again and don't feel bad admitting

it feels good to wear them occasionally.

 

History shows this has been the case for some time

though societal and cultural standards have changed

something fierce, even in the last century

here in the Home of the Free.

(not for the better I might add)

Our grandparents were scorned when caught smiling for the camera

and while I can understand a need, a time and place for casualness

I sure love me some dress-up.

So, while my friend has date night each Thursday,
attends conferences with her husband,
was born Barbie Doll tall so doesn't need heels
and has several annual family photos taken
to hang above the mantel,
I.live.under.a.rock.

So I like to take advantage of any chance I get.
Sometimes I arrange them.
Last weekend with the beautiful weather and long afternoon,
I suggested that the girls put something cute on and get some fall pics
with the horses.
I gave them full access to anything in my closet. That fit.
Also the makeup drawer.
Then I continued cutting back lilies.

Several hours later I looked up to see these gorgeous creatures.
The horses cleaned up well too.

They braided their crowns out of my Artic Willow branches
and inserted flowers from the garden all unnoticed to me.
No wonder it took so long.

* Please note the following are not
Pony Club or 4H sanctioned moves.
*Also, Franchescas modesty would
insist that I disclose that she did have
jean shorts on under my dress.

So, while my girls really enjoyed this fun photo shoot,
(and lets face it: Adrianna actually smiles now!)
I'm certain that my friend will be the belle of the ball
even if she shows up in her jammies and robe
to rebel against all those times of needing to wear "more".