Five Fab Faves for Friday!

Thanks to Kate from The Small Things Blog and Lauren, who writes From My Grey Desk, I've decided to accentuate the positive today. . .because the gray skies near Charlotte, NC, have not made it the most happy week. A transplanted Texan is used to this kind of cloudy day:

Lake Waco - raindrops do not fall on one's head - nor in one's lake that often. Today's high: 91 degrees.

(Photo courtesy: http://www.scenicreflections.com/ithumbs/Lake_waco_Wallpaper_wwpqx.JPG)

We are NOT used to this:

Lake Wylie, SC - I think I'll call it Lake WillIeverseesun? Today's high: 79 with isolated storms tonight (PTA Carnival Night with outdoor movie) 

Photo courtesy: http://www.dustinkryanphotography.com/

Right now, however, the sun is shining and all is right in the world - as long as I don't watch the news, read the paper - or talk to my in-laws. (I kid, I kid.)

In the spirit of being positive and putting my Pollyanna on, here's my version of the "glad game" this week:

1. I'm glad Kidlet did extraordinarily well on the MAP test administered at her school this week and extremely proud to be her mom.  I think MAP is an acronym for "Measure of Academic Progress" - but I'm not going to dwell on it because standardized tests are like designer clothing lines - changing and occasionally more absurd with every season.

Kidlet is eerily book smart, wise and intuitive. . .and we still tell her to look "on her other right" when she can't find something in the fridge, cabinet or closet. I LOVE HER.  Seriously.  She scored above her grade level in both Reading and Math, but her father and I are arguing over who will have to teach her how to drive:

Photo courtesy: www.zazzle.com

Did I mention she and I are both blonde?

2.  I was invited to a breakfast to thank school volunteers. Since we moved here in October, well into the school year, it was a challenge for all of us. Kidlet was used to my working at a school, but I became a SAHM again (with her school hours from 7:30 - 2:15).  I couldn't substitute teach - with 5 years' experience as a school office employee and classroom aide - until I attended a 3-hour workshop. While I was waiting for the life-changing training session, I offered to help in any way I could, which meant quality time with a cordless glue gun in the school hallways.  That was fun. No. Really. I got to know teachers and students, which is what all moms with only one child like to do. Snoop. . .with permission. 

3. I discovered how to make cake mix cookies. BEST. HOMEBAKER FAKE. EVER.  Kidlet and husband prefer them to cookies I make from scratch, because I like crunchy cookies (and since I'm the one making them, they tended to be, well, crunchy.) Nom, nom, nom.  Anyway, I discovered that by adding eggs and oil - or eggs, oil and water, you have happy people in a fraction of the time and your house doesn't smell like the garbage hubby forgot to take out. Again. 

Making these made me so happy! I had no idea! Some people get really creative by adding nuts, chocolate or candies to the mix, but they're just fine without them. Seriously. It's cake mix. It's all there, including all those preservatives and additives that coat our insides. Bon appetit! 

You can learn more here (I flatten the cookies with a glass dipped in sugar rather than flour, btw):

Cake Mix Cookies - Basics

Read the comments from other pastry chefs, er, home cooks, about how they make the batter better:

Duncan Hines Cake Mix Cookie Recipe

Even if you don't add anything extra, they do taste pretty darn good and you only mess up one bowl. Yay!

4. I'm not scheduled for a colonoscopy, nor being nagged by medical personnel to get one. . .nor by anyone else, actually.  Anyone who can say that should be happy, don't you think?

5. What always makes me smile: my favorite tee shirt, inspired by my favorite sitcom: 

"All hail, Sam Kass."

So here's the shirt, which I wore on vacation to visit my parents, who might have appreciated the shirt more - or stared quizzically at me less -  if they had seen the above-referenced clip of "The Big Bang Theory."  As it is, they finally broke down the second time I wore it (after laundry, naturally) and asked, "What does that mean?" - pointing to my chest. (I love my dad.) 

I realize now that a depiction of hand gestures on a your daughter's upper body could be cause for concern:  

Actual age: 42. Age when in the company of my parents: 12 (tall and big-boned, I think is what they call it.)

So, there you have it. I've laundered, loitered and listed - and it's not even noon yet! Hope you find or ferret out some favorite things this Friday - and we'll see if I can blog a bit better. . .later.

Honey, have you seen that box. . .?

"People are always saying that change is a good thing. But all they're really saying is that something you didn't want to happen at all... has happened." - You've Got Mail


This morning I asked friends for blog topic suggestions, since this is new to me and I'm trying to figure out what makes a blog entertaining  - I mean, besides resorting to bathroom humor. . .

Why does Paul Simon's "Mother & Child Reunion"  pop into my head as I look at this?

(Photo courtesy of Clark Sorenson, via Atlantic Monthly and Toilet (the book)

A good friend suggested I write about our move from Texas to the Carolinas, which began in late July and ended in late September.  

Would you like to know what's great about a cross-country move that takes 3 months to complete? So would I. Leave a comment below and we'll discuss it. 


How did our adventure in cardboard, bubble wrap and tape begin? So glad you asked. My husband left Texas after our daughter's 9th birthday celebration, traveling 1100 miles two weeks after a job offer was made and saying goodbye to the charming wife and only child. In May, he had been laid off after 13 years when the employer was bought out by a competitor.  Luckily, he had been offered a job with the new company - but in Phoenix, which we agreed had a view that could less than pleasant:

An asthmatic's dream, no?

We lived in "tornado alley" for most of our lives, Texas was in the middle of one of the worst droughts in history, which meant we'd be packing enough dust in the moving boxes, thank you very much. 

We took a pass. 

So, hubby packed up a few things, drove for 2 days to the Charlotte area, found a one-bedroom apartment (?!) in South Carolina and settled in, going to work at 10 pm, walking to the lake every day, feeding fish, hanging out by the pool, eating baked beans whenever he wanted. . .adjusting to the new normal, I guess you could say. In the meantime, what did I do? A little bit of this and that - and EVERYTHING ELSE. Good times.

In a later post, I'll talk about how we are adjusting as a family to this new state (which they refer to as "The Carolinas" - like the north and south are conjoined twins), but it's hard to appreciate what makes the Deep South special. . .when you look at the map and see that your home state is, well, deeper south, geographically speaking. 

What was the move from Texas like? If I don't dig too deeply, I can say it was one of the most challenging things I've ever done. I'm proud of handling a lot of responsibility on my own: downsizing the contents of our home of 10 years, coordinating its rental, packing things up and working with the movers who showed up one day early, then 6 hours late the next day - and giving them something to eat and drink (Thanks, Aunt Judy, for the tip!) It was also empowering to drive over a thousand miles with a nine year old daughter and a cat (and the litter box. . .who needs rest areas and gas station rest rooms?). I'm the same woman, who, at age 16,  drove into a maize field because she was trying to roll down the passenger window at the same time. 

What?! No power windows? What am I supposed to do with this? 

Ohhhh, that's MUCH better.  

Before the move, my husband and I tried to focus on the good things about the situation with our daughter - who was brought home to that big house with the big yard on the corner in town over 9 years ago, who met her best friends when she was 18 months old at the Baptist Church, and who loved their moms like family.  What did we do? We turned her into the girl who left after the first six weeks of school - a new school where she was settling in, singing every Friday during Mass and learning Spanish. Those classmates all sent her handmade Christmas cards last month, which brought tears to my eyes  - and a huge smile to her face. I'm sniffling as I type about it now. (Talk amongst yourselves. I'll be right back.)

SEGUE! (Let's move on, shall we?)

Was our move a big deal to our families? Here's a little imagery to paint in your mind. :) 

My husband and I are in our 40s, parents to one and siblings to none. We are a family of 3 "only" children. (The family tree has a few more branches, but I'm not talented enough to figure out where they belong.)  Our parents still live in Texas, in the same county we did. They are in their 60s and 70s - still married - to each other.  If we're not there for a family celebration, it's safe to say there really isn't one. In 1994, my husband and I married the Saturday before Mother's Day. Self-centered? Us?! 

The morning our kidlet and I left for Texas, my mother-in-law asked to be taken to the ER because of a migraine.  When I was hospitalized last month with an infection and pneumonia, she flew out the same day to "look after things" while I was sick.  Whenever she and my father-in-law pick us up in their car, she moves to the back seat (with her granddaughter) "to give me more leg room" up front.  

(Sure am glad my husband is the reason we had to move. . .ahem.)

My parents? They were excited for us, saying it would be a great adventure - just like it was when I was a child and my dad was in the Air Force. The difference? You had shared experiences as a military family relocating every few years - and my grandma usually came and stayed with us. Often. For months at a time.  Lucky dad.

The reality? We are the kids who moved away when most children are coming back to spend time with their parents and help when needed. My parents are older, and they'll need my help sooner - and I'm not there. Before we left for the Carolinas,  Mom & Dad told me I didn't need to come back if "something happened." These are the same people who have been helpful enough to joke about going down to the funeral home to make sure their cremations are paid for so I don't have to do it myself - and to remind me that Mom's ashes go in a Windex bottle to be displayed on the mantel.  


The reality, however, is that Dad can't travel due to COPD - which basically means that because he smoked for most of his life, he has the lung capacity of a 110-year-old. (Don't ask me how a machine can calculate it, but it did - and TriCare paid for it.) My parents won't be coming here to visit. Ever. 


My in-laws will come, but they'll need us, too. It's not a matter of if they'll need us, but when.  How do I know this? In the past two weeks, my father-in-law has driven his Mercedes convertible over a parking spot curb (tearing off the front bumper when he backed out), broken the mechanism that controls the convertible top - and, yesterday, backed into a pickup. (The pickup won.) 


I know it's not the worst thing in the world to be far away from family and friends, but it's not a reality check you want to write very often.  Keep that in mind. Relocation wasn't optional. In this economy, we went where the work could be found, but my husband, daughter, parents and I are all paying a price for it - in time. 

I think, as I spent six weeks sorting, packing, cleaning, clearing, and compartmentalizing everything in sight, I tried to do the same with my thoughts and feelings and the conflict I faced. I've kept some of them in storage until I find the time and the space to open them up again. That's not written on any moving checklist, but it should be.