Farr Away Thoughts

A Candy Bar, a Coke, and a Legacy

2012-02-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

So many teachers are burdened at this time of year. For most of us, the burden stems from uncertainty. Teachers like control. The fear of the unknown scares us. Nightmares plague most teachers concerning the ability to maintain a controlled classroom, perform to expectations, and to set a good example for students.

My fellow teachers and I work in a profession that becomes more undervalued and unappreciated with each daunting year. As the stakes raise higher, our salaries sink lower. The word of a teacher was once appreciated and taken as gospel truth - today's teachers battle against embittered parents, face the burden of "the system," and wade through the murky waters of bureaucracy. And, unfortunately, members of our profession have taken advantage of their authority and made a bad name for the rest of us.

Sometimes it is important for those in "the trenches" with me to remember why we got into this profession in the first place.

Sometimes it is important to remember a Wayne.

Wayne Bradshaw was a football coach - not just an assistant coach or some rinky-dink coach who gets into the game for a few years - but a football legend. His name permeates stat books and win columns.

I didn't know Wayne during his coaching years. I would have loved to see him in action, calling plays and making boys run, but I didn't know that side of him. I knew him from East Hall Middle School as the in-school suspension (or ISS) teacher. ISS deals with the children who are being disciplined, and it isn't an easy position to fill.

In some schools, ISS is where some teachers are sent to meet their professional death.

Wayne, however, took his position seriously. He was at work before I was. He left after I did. His ISS room was full of rules - structure, organization, writing. A trip to his room was not supposed to entail a pleasant experience, but rather an experience that would make the student ponder getting into repeated trouble.

Wayne always had a joke on his lips, a sarcastic remark under his breath, and a helping hand to offer. His stories were long, varied, and heartfelt. He came to my room during so many pre-planning days with bottles of cleaner and rags, ready to help me out, to offer any assistance needed. He was genuinely and thoroughly loved by many at my school.

Sadly, a cold February morning brought with it a harsh reality.

Almost a year ago to this very day, Wayne Bradshaw lost his life to a heart attack while hiking - while doing something he loved.

I lost a beloved co-worker and friend.

I also became aware of an unforgettable legacy.

At Wayne's funeral, people spoke about his accolades. About his wonderful spirit. About his ability to coach football and motivate people.

A young sixth grade girl, however, was the speaker who was able to sum up Wayne's post-coaching accomplishments in her eulogy.

After the floor was open for people to share their memories about Wayne, the young girl boldly approached the stage. She was still dressed in her school uniform. She looked out at the expectant crowd and told her story.

As long as I live, her story - her words - will forever resonate with me.

This girl was in ISS with Wayne for a few days and was distraught - downright dismayed - about being in trouble. I don't know what she did to get in trouble - she did not reveal (nor did she want to reveal) what she did. She did reveal, however, that she was a sixth-grade girl, she was in ISS, and she was upset about being in ISS.

Wayne was burdened for this young girl. He often dealt with the hard-edged students, and he knew full well how to administer tough love, but this girl cried her whole first day of ISS. Wayne watched her that day, troubled. He had students do all sorts of depraved things in ISS (and I can attest to those stories), but the girl who cried spoke to him.

The next morning, the Friday morning of the girl's second day of ISS, Wayne met with his pals at Longstreet Cafe. It was an early Friday-morning breakfast and "man talk." Guess what Wayne mentioned to his pastor?

The girl in ISS.

Anyone who knew Wayne knew that he always had a plan, and this day was no different. Strategy was at the core of Wayne's DNA. Coach had a plan for the second day to make the girl think, and even though his plan didn't consist of Xs and Os, he knew what he had to do.

Wayne didn't tell me this story - I only know it through the eulogized thoughts of the little girl - the girl Wayne moved enough to stand in front of countless strangers to speak at his funeral.

The girl was his only ISS student that day.

After his break, Wayne came in with a treat for the girl - a candy bar and a coke.

Wayne sat down beside her and offered up his little peace offering. The girl's words betrayed her emotion as she spoke - one could tell she was happy to see those treats.

Wayne told her that if she agreed to sit with him and talk and agree to never be in ISS again, that he would share this special treat with her. The girl - the girl in trouble - was getting an olive branch the size of Texas.

She readily agreed.

"You're too good for ISS," he told her.

Wayne's words broke her. I don't know if anyone told this child before that moment that she was good, worthy, or deserving. I don't know if a male ever bought her a present in her life.

What I do know is that she needed to hear those words on that Friday. She needed that candy bar and that coke.

As time would have it, the young girl saw Wayne on Friday. On Saturday, Wayne climbed a mountain and lost his life. On Monday, the girl who thought she had found someone to believe in her came to school to find that the teacher who made an impact on her life - that special man - was gone.

The heartbroken girl fled the funeral podium in tears that day, but what she did not realize was the profound impact she had on every educator in that room.

What she didn't realize was that the legacy of Wayne touched her life.

Wayne had a life so full of love. Sports, accolades, achievement and family weaved through the tapestry of his amazing life.

In Wayne's last twenty-four hours, he could have relaxed in the ease of retirement and luxury - he could have basked in the glow of his football glory. Yet, he spent it giving love to a little girl who desperately needed it.

Wayne's trophy room is full of trophies. Yet, his little symbols of love, those testaments of grace, will forever resonate with the students and athletes he touched. The glow of love in the eyes of his family when they tell his stories and speak of him will always be his crowning achievement. The depth and impact of his legacy may never be fully realized, but it is there, it is real, and it has and continues to make a difference.

A candy bar and a coke. Two symbols of compassion.

What is better way to spend the last twenty-four hours of your life than to give it in love and sacrifice to others? What is better than to live a life full of compassion? Live a life like Wayne - so that when the parallel meets the perpendicular you hear, "well done, my good and faithful servant. Well done."

Well done, Coach.

"I want to leave a legacy/
how will they remember me/
did I choose to love?"
- Nichole Nordeman

Tale as Old as Time...

2012-01-07T13:11:00.000-08:00

By now, you probably know my child's deep and yearning love for "Beauty and the Beast," especially Belle.

We used to watch "Belle" about once a week. That number has grown exponentially. Sometimes, Amelia will point to the tv and say, "Belle?" in the middle of a Lakers game. Sometimes, Amelia will ask to watch "Belle" on our smartphones. Sometimes, she'll ask where Belle is. Sometimes, I think I hear her call for Belle in the middle of the night. She tucks a big, soft Belle doll under her arm at bedtime, and Belle is almost right up there with Silky in terms of utmost importance.

This is a serious infatuation, you see.

Amelia is starting to learn the ins and outs of the movie quite well. When a good part is about to come on, she'll yell, "here it comes!" She still tries to talk to the characters on the screen. She still whines in apprehension when the Beast makes his first appearance.

The other night, she started a new new habit, which is to begin dancing when Belle and the Beast dance to Mrs. Potts singing "Beauty and the Beast." I say "dancing," but she's really spinning in a circle, slowly, with her arms extended. However, to a two year-old, the waltz probably looks very similar to this action.

The first time she did this, Jeremy and I could do little but giggle. Amelia looked so cute spinning around like a top about to fall over. She must have also looked irresistible, because during her first little dance, Jeremy picked her up and began to dance with her.

In that moment, I watched the two loves of my life take a little spin around our small, blue-carpeted "ballroom." I couldn't help but feel a familiar twinge of happiness and love.

Jeremy's beard, workout clothes and old shoes made him look rather beastly at that moment. Amelia smiled at her Daddy and laughed at him as he swung her around, held out her little arm, and gave her a big hug at the end of the song. I couldn't get over how fitting the song was for the two of them. It undeniably was "Beauty and the Beast."

I fully acknowledge the fact that I can rag my husband, that he can drive me crazy, and that sometimes we get irritated with one another. I don't get on facebook and extoll his praises...mostly because he wouldn't like me to do that. He would find it trite and silly. But moments like these remind me of the person he is...and the person he is becoming. Despite that rough exterior my husband often portrays, he really does have the heart of a prince...of a Daddy.

And I'm thankful for that.

Christmas

2012-01-02T17:14:00.000-08:00

Christmas was a little chaotic this year, due to the fact that we had to juggle family obligations with church, but I think we pulled it off beautifully. Despite the chaos of the actual day, Amelia was very excited about "Tanta," Christmas presents, and all of the lights. She did great all day and we had a fantastic service at church.

I think Amelia loved the Christmas tree more than anything. When I took it down (pretty much the day after Christmas), she said, "Where Kiss-mas Tree go?" She is still asking me. It makes me happy to know she enjoyed the tree so much...and it totally made up for all of the drama that went into the Farr Family Christmas Tree (seven strings of lights blown, screaming, wailing, trips to the Christmas Tree therapist..ahem).

She got all kinds of presents. Most of them centered on her new obsession, Belle. She got other Disney princesses, too, and she's starting to learn their names, but none of them hold a French-accented candle to Belle. She's growing into a very fun phase and I so enjoyed watching her open presents and actually play with them.

I think this picture represents her Christmas more than anything. You can just see her happiness. You can also see how incredibly big she is getting...which is another post altogether...

Her big gift this year was a dollhouse. Her motor skills are somewhat lacking, so her hands haven't really figured out how to maneuver the big people inside the dollhouse, but she's learning little by little.

I wish someone would have told me how fun it is to be a parent at Christmas. When you're a kid, you feel sorry for your parents, because they don't get a whole bunch of presents. I never realized that a parent's gift comes in the form of watching your child enjoy Christmas so much.

I didn't get a ton of "stuff" accomplished this Christmas, but I did get to enjoy my baby girl, and really - that's about all I could ask for or want out of a Christmas break.

Gifts in Small Packages

2011-12-23T11:50:00.000-08:00

My whole life, I was told that toddlers were/are difficult. I've heard stories about the "terrible twos" as long as I've lived.

To be honest, I knew this was true. I was twelve years old when my sister was two years old. She got into unimaginable little dilemmas quite often. Most of these dilemmas involved the destruction of something beloved.

When Amelia was a baby, she was cute and cuddly. Part of me dreaded her growing up, because I knew (and because I had been told) that toddlers are/were difficult. I didn't want her to become a smelly, messy, crazy toddler. I wanted her to stay little, compact - sweet.

Today, my toddler girl is wide open. She's into everything. She's crazy, she's hyperactive, and she's gloriously messy. Nothing is safe from her reach. And yet, despite the whirlwind that is toddler hood, I feel like some people (including myself at times) often miss the point.

Because despite all I was told, I wasn't told was how a toddler loves. Amelia has a heart as big as the sun breaking open on a winter morning sky. She loves unconditionally. There are few things more extraordinary than her constant kisses, her sweet little "I luh loos" and her hugs filled with "mmm-MMM!" Yesterday, my friend Kathi told the sweetest story about her little 2 year-old telling her that she was his "BEST FRIEND!" My heart melted. Toddlers totally get it. They love their parents with a passion that I rarely see in...well, anyone.

Despite what I was told, I also wasn't told what a joy it is to watch a toddler experience. Everything is wonderful and new to a toddler. Watching Amelia this Christmas, I feel like I'm re-living Christmas again for the first time. Everything is enchanting, fun, delightful. I can't help but to buy her extra treats or take her on special little trips because she loves everything! She oohs and ahhs over lights, she yells "Tanta!" when she sees the man in the big red suit, and she dances around Christmas Trees filled with presents. A few nights ago, Kathi, Kim, and I took our crazy babies to Dahlonega to look at the lights. It was insane and exhausting! Yet, when we got in the car, Asher told his mama that it was "mac-ig-cal!" All of my regrets about bringing the kids subsided. That night, they had an experience.

There are so many little wonderful things about Amelia that no one ever told me about children before I became a mother. I hear so often about the bad, the tough, the mundane. I rarely hear about the precious, the "mac-ig-cal," or the memorable. I want to change this mentality within myself - I don't want to sugarcoat my life by any stretch of the imagination, but I want to make sure I enjoy my sweet girl in every stage of her life.

Children are such a blessing from God. This Christmas, I wish for all of my friends with "tough toddlers" the ability to sit back and take in the love our children give us - and to experience Christmas with them.

They won't be little forever.

St. Nik(ki).

2011-12-20T13:02:00.000-08:00

St. Nick came to visit my school this year.

However, this St. Nick wears eyeliner and has a perfectly cropped and highlighted head of hair. She's petite and gorgeous, and doesn't have a bowl full of jelly (even when it has a baby in it).

Our St. Nick at school is otherwise known as Nikki, who works in the Language Arts department in 8th grade. Nikki is so fun-spirited and cute that it is very hard to ignore her pleas for fun and excitement.

Our dear little Nikki Claus decided she was going to spread some holiday cheer to the 8th grade wing this year, and she planned theme days and a Secret Santa gift exchange. The gift exchange called for very small, inexpensive gifts (one dollar each day and five-dollar gift on Friday) and asked everyone who was interested to meet up to exchange names.

When I showed up for the name exchange, I was taken aback - almost every single member of my grade level was there! They were all laughing, smiling and talking about the fun to be had in the next week. I knew, deep down in my heart, that Nikki Claus performed a Christmas Miracle.

Each day was so much fun. Amy, our grade level chair, decorated a cute little Christmas tree in our workroom. I played Mission:Impossible with my gifts by hiding them in my lunchbox and I and tried to be as nonchalant as possible. I attached little poems to my gifts (which, I'm sure, revealed my identity right away...). My poor secret pal obtained amazing necessities like chapstick, a dollar planner, and a lint roller (yes, a lint roller -you wouldn't believe how linty it gets around EHall!).

Our very small and cute Christmas Tree!

Each day, Nikki called everyone in the workroom around the little tree and distributed presents. We all opened them and oohed and ahhed in excitement. Some presents were very exciting (Snickers bars do that to some people) and some left people rolling in laughter (like the sleeve of faux tattoos that Wes got from his Secret Santa).

Reindeer Day

The "theme days" were loads of fun, too. We had Reindeer Day, Christmas Sock Day, Snuggie Day, Crazy Christmas Scarf Day (I couldn't find a crazy scarf to save my life - what's up with that!?) and "Vintage" Sweater Day. Vintage Sweater Day was mostly sponsored by Susan, our instructional coach, loaded us up on her lovely assortment of Christmas sweaters. The only thing that would have made these days a little better would have been a slight chill in the air. It's difficult to wear a Snuggie/scarf/sweater when it is seventy degrees outside. I was surprised, yet again, at how many people decided to contribute to the fun. Nikki Claus really worked her magic.

Snuggie Day, Part II: Revenge of the Blanket with Sleeves

Vintage Sweater Day - that's Nikki Claus holding the Starbucks swag!

I'm thankful for a friend like Nikki. Her infectious spirit helps me through the rough days and helps me make memories out of the best days. She reminds me that sometimes 8th grade teachers are truly just 8th graders at heart.

Christmas melts even the most Grinchy hearts...teehee.

The Weary World Rejoices

2011-12-05T14:25:00.001-08:00

Earlier this year, my church discussed giving money to a program. It offers former female prisoners rehabilitation, counseling, and stability. I have heard about this program for months, but yesterday, I was able to view a tangible expression of what this program entailed.

The women - perhaps fifty or more - took up the first several rows of our worship center. Before the offering, a couple of them told their stories and shared their experiences with the ministry. Their lives were compressed into brief segments of time - a mere glimmer of the addiction, abuse and depravity each faced.

The pain resonated in their words and their faces betrayed their emotions as they spoke of the life they once lived. These women told of the hope they found through our church, through the program created - and through the life of Jesus Christ. How He changed their lives forever.

After the clapping and the little awards given to these women, our worship leader and one of our musicians came back on stage for a haunting rendition of "Silent Night."

In my seat, I just melted into a puddle of emotion and tears. It hit me like a ton of bricks -

This is a part of the beauty of Christmas.

The fact that God Himself stepped into flesh to offer hope and redemption. It is a splendor I cannot describe with enough words, a love I can never fully explain. The fact that despite our dirtiness and depravity, He loved enough to restore.

We speak of gifts, we search for gifts, we make lists of gifts. But no gift will ever be greater than the Gift of Jesus Christ. Nothing will ever undo like the depth of his love.

And, though those women never mentioned Christmas, I found such comfort in their simple, easy stories - I remembered the beauty of Christmas. This is the Christ who I serve. This is the Jesus I love. He loves enough to redeem, to give himself in the form of humanity - so that in this world full of darkness we could turn to face it with His light. When we fall, when we fail, when we are distressed, when we feel defeated, "He gives more grace."

Amen.

"Hail the heaven born Prince of Peace, Hail the Son of Righteousness!/Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings/Mild He lays His glory by, born that man no more may die/Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth/Hark! The herald angels sing, 'glory to the newborn King!'"

Belle in a Box

2011-12-03T06:32:00.001-08:00

Amelia decided a few weeks ago that she is obsessed with Princesses.

This is a recent turn of events. Before that, she was perfectly content with a truck and a slide.

We watched "Beauty and the Beast" for the first time a few weeks ago. Parts of the movie definitely scared her, but she absolutely loved the movie. At Target, I got her a small, plastic Belle doll (she calls her "Beh-ewl"), and she's just become enamored with all things Belle. This is fine with me, since I find Belle to be the most intelligent and pragmatic of Disney Princesses. To be honest, I don't know if that is saying much for Belle. Aurora has the personality of a doorknob and Snow White kind of creeps me out.

We watch "Beauty and the Beast" at least once a week now. Amelia is starting to understand the concept of the television a little better. However, Dora has corrupted her concept of the "third wall," so she doesn't really understand why Belle won't talk to her.

This was her conversation with Belle the other day:

Belle: Little town, it's a quiet village....

Amelia: Hewo, Beh-ewl! What doing?

Belle: Every day, like the one befooooooooooree....

Amelia: Beh-ewl! Heeeeeeeeeey! (Waving hysterically at the television)

Belle: Little town, full of little people.......

Amelia: Beh-ewl! I luh loo!

Belle: Waking up to saaaaaaaay....

Amelia: (Turning to me) Mama, what Beh-ewl doing?

Me: She's singing, Baby. She's a little busy.

Despite the fact that Belle may be a little uncommunicative, I feel like Amelia has made a friend for life.

Recipes

2011-11-20T11:28:00.001-08:00

I've taken my old food blog, "Food Farr Thought," and merged the postings with this site. I'm going to go through the monotonous process of labeling my blogs so that you can find the recipes on here.

I'll still post recipes on here from time to time. Honestly, I'm just not a proficient enough cook or writer to maintain two blogs. I hope you understand. :)

Kroger Confessional

2011-11-19T06:59:00.000-08:00

About ten years ago, my little hometown got a Kroger close to my house.

I worked at Ingles around that time period. Actually, one of my major memories of September 11th involves me standing in Ingles the night President Bush gave his famous speech. No one was in the store. We just stood around the small television in the front as the fear and panic crept into us.

To this day, I can't go into Ingles. I did not enjoy my foray into cashierhood. I didn't enjoy the way Ingles made their cashiers pick up all the items - including forty pound bags of dog food - to put them on the conveyor belt. Yuck.

My Ingles-Phobia leaves me with only once choice: Kroger.

Boy, my Kroger is terrible.

Want the reasons? I like lists. Here they are:

1. Kroger was okay a few years ago, but then they added a huge expansion to the store. The expansion created a section of rows RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE that just contain random crap. Yeah, I said it. It's true. I don't want to have to walk through an aisle of beach chairs to get to the butter. I don't need seventeen different brands of Snuggies in my grocery store. I don't want the latest, greatest, thing found on an informercial.

2. The produce. It's terrible. I'm sorry if you know the produce manager at the Kroger, I really am. But I should be able to keep a package of salad two days, find strawberries fresh in the store, and keep an apple for a week. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a package of tangerines to look cute in my wooden bowl at my book club party. About four days later, they were literally rotting in the bowl. I've never heard of tangerines going bad after a couple of days. It was quite depressing. I can go to Publix across town and have my produce last twice or even three times as long.

3. You can't always get what you want, but sometimes I need some dang yogurt. I love the new Stoneyfield Oikos Greek Yogurt with honey. It's the best and some of the healthiest yogurt out there. I'm willing to pay extra for the health benefits and protein I get from it. Stoneyfield adds just the right of sweetness to it - it kicks Chiobani's tail (I could do a whole post on yogurt, by the way...haha). Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. Kroger never ever has this yogurt. NEVER. EVER. Usually, if I need something or want something, this Kroger will be out of it. Things that are pretty basic - like bananas. Cereal. Milk. It's annoying.

4. Stuff doesn't make sense. I don't want to shop for cookies next to hand sanitizer (it's not that bad, but it doesn't make sense). I don't want beans next to bread. By the time I had finally figured out the convoluted arrangement of this store, Kroger just recently moved everything around again. So now, I have to figure out why the potato chips are by the vinegar, why the butter is near the coke, and why Kroger chose this arrangement. I should have it figured out in six months or so.

5. The lines. Kroger will have approximately 3.5 million people within its massive monstrosity of a store, and will maintain two cashiers. Sometimes, the manager (again, sorry if you know one - I'm just being honest) will leave his post of standing directly in front of the Capri Suns to open up a register to help out. Three lines does not an efficient store make. Many people opt to do the self-checkout. I'm still relatively quick at this, thanks to my aforementioned Ingles experience, but when it comes to produce, I've forgotten the numbers (besides bananas - 4011!) and it takes me a little time. Of course, this makes the anxious Kroger shoppers behind me in line a tad bit irritated ....which leads me to...

6. The people. Sometimes, I have to park at the Mexican restaurant at the end of the shopping center complex just to get to Kroger. When I get into the store, there are people, people everywhere. Some of them have crawled out from under a rock in Murrayville. They come with the sheer intention of flaunting their redneck ways at their big ol' trip to Kroger. They yell, act insane, butt you out of the way to get to the Easy Mac on sale, and get in front of you in the Starbucks line to order stupid things like seventeen mocha frappuccinos. One time in the self check-out line (when I seriously had no other option), a fellow behind me yelled, "hey, I'm not in a hurry - you just take your time, sweetheart! You just taaake your time!" I gave him one of my Anne Cain looks. He got the point. But seriously, who says stuff like that to people in a grocery store?!

I realize that not all Kroger stores are like this. I know people who thoroughly enjoy their Kroger. I know people who work at other Krogers and they are wonderful, nice people.

I'm just telling you that my Kroger stinks.

There are redeeming qualities. The pharmacy usually has good deals. There is a Starbucks inside with a nice barista who can make me a caramel macchiato as well as any barista at a "regular Starbucks." There's a redbox there. They're the only store around that sells Amelia's diapers, so I have to go there whether I like it or not (and this is usually the reason I go ahead and get groceries while I'm there).

But the Hour of the Kroger is upon me. I know I'm going to have to suck it up, go there, pick up my thanksgiving groceries, and deal with the madness. I seriously might try out some Publix diapers and drive across town to Publix.

I just wish I had a better, closer option.

Dear Mrs. Westmoreland

2011-10-29T12:35:00.000-07:00

I cried the day I left you.

Summers were normally welcomed with an impolite yell, an excited dance down the halls of elementary school, and plans full of sleepovers and video games.

On the day I left you, the melancholy slammed into my ten year-old heart. As I sat on the bus to my friend's house, unable to control my tears, I thought about how I was leaving something I couldn't explain, something very real.

Something very indescribable.

I had teachers before - many wonderful ones. But none of those teachers made me want to spend time in a classroom more than you.

To this day, I think about you. I think about the day you cried when you heard about the student in class being abused. I think about the day you told us that the father of one my classmates died - and the way you told us in your still, gentle voice. Your eyes filled with tears. I remember thinking, "she really cares about us. She really does love us."

I think about how you chocked up the day we watched Charlotte's Web. I think about the time you couldn't finish the end of the "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" without tears sliding down your face.

I remember all the books - tales of Fudge, a ghost named Helen, and a hurt, abused girl named Laurie.

No one could draw an image in my mind like you did.

I think about how you acted flat-out crazy, made me laugh hysterically, and encouraged me to be myself. You embraced my quirkiness. You gave me the "Best Actress" award in your class, and I felt like I won an Oscar.

The last day of school, when I handed you my bowl of homemade ice cream, you smiled and said you loved it, despite the fact that rock salt had somehow manuvered its way into the turbine.

I thought about this - all of this - as I sat in a heap of tears and misery on what should have been a happy, wonderful last day of school.

Though my childhood heart could not determine what it was about you that was so special, my adult heart grows more and more understanding each day.

You gave me the gift of a compassionate teacher.

I spent one of the best years of my life with you as my guide.

Each day, as I walk into a classroom filled with young teenage children, I think about my role in their lives. I think about how one teacher, despite the cliches, really can make a difference.

I think about you when my students stress me out, when they talk back to me, and when they come to me for comfort. I think about you when I sense an intangible moment - one where I know I can make my students think and learn. You are, undoubtedly, one of the reasons I am the person I am today.

See, Mrs. Westmoreland, I didn't get to be an actress. But I do get to stand in front of an audience every day. Those two-hundred eyes look to me for a different show. And despite my loud mouth, my impatience, my quirkiness, and my sassy side - I know how to be a good teacher because of your example.

I pray I give my students a Mrs. Westmoreland - a teacher who loves despite deficiencies, inspires beyond circumstances, and moves the hearts of students years beyond the reach of school.

Thank you.

Want to see my real life? Get on Pinterest.

2011-10-18T07:13:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Dana, and I'm addicted to Pinterest.

If you haven't gotten on Pinterest yet, be glad that you haven't gotten drawn into its time-sucking vortex of crafts, recipes, and all sorts of other ideas.

It's a way to feel crafty without actually having to be crafty. To feel useful without really being useful. To categorize ideas without ever using them.

Unfortunately, if there's one thing in this life that I am decidedly NOT, it is crafty. I cannot cut in straight lines, draw anything, or make even the most basic crafts. I got a frowny face on my papers in Kindergarten when I couldn't trace the curved lines. When I "model" projects for the kids at school, my artwork is usually lampooned by my students in articulate fashion ("Dang, Miss! You cain't draw!"). I am not one of those people who can look at a blank room and put together a furniture arrangement. Honestly, the only things I like to arrange are words. In sentences.

I'm basically on Pinterest to look at food, clothes, ideas, and to pin the things that look "pretty." If it's a craft, I usually tag one of my other friends in it with the thought, "Kathi or Jennifer could make that." It is really a glamorous representation of my not-so-glamorous life.

Apparently, I'm a very good at representing my Pinterest interests. I must click on the right pictures.

I'm a Pinterest celebrity, yo!

I started a board to post cookies on for my annual cookie swap this Christmas. What turned out to be a cute little board for my friends has turned into a pretty popular board. It gains ten or more people a day.

Let's be honest: I couldn't count 278 people who actually like me, so seeing this board always startles me.

I also realized that it brings up other issues, namely: 1) who are these people? and 2) do they expect an invitation? I don't think I could make enough food to feed that many people. I mean, I've got a big yard, but not quite that big.

Despite these odd little instances with Pinterest, I've actually used a couple of the things I've found on there. I made sweet potato biscuits. I did one of the "home help hints" and was able to unclog Jeremy's bathroom sink with baking soda and boiling water. It was my greatest Pinterest success to date.

I haven't decided if Pinterest is a Martha Stewart-decried "good thing" yet. I'm on the fence. It is either the best or the worst thing ever.

I'd let you know more, but I really need to go start a Christmas board.

It's important.

Lil' Pumpkin

2011-10-16T14:33:00.000-07:00

Fall 2009:

Fall 2010:

Fall 2011:

What a big girl. Sigh.

Earthquakes and Aftershocks

2011-10-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

I've had a lot of responses to my "risky post."

It was a little overwhelming.

I don't like to be "the bad guy." I don't like to cause drama/trouble.

But I don't regret the post. I don't regret questioning something, even if I wrong. I want to be a thinking believer. I don't want to simply follow everything Christian Culture tells me to follow...and I won't. I guess that's one of those skills that I learned as a historian and a teacher: it's okay to question.. It's okay to investigate. It's okay to search for a better understanding.

I'll give my thoughts on the movie when it comes to Netflix. Until then, know that my prayer for believers is for us to be sustained by the person of Jesus Christ, to be sustained by grace and not works, and to be sustained by the word of God.

This youtube clip says what I pretty much wanted to say:

What is the Gospel?

Poor Nelly Baby

2011-10-01T16:06:00.000-07:00

Amelia has learned a lot of things in the past two weeks.

In the midst of my teeth-induced pain, she's learned 1) how to turn on light switches (and, conversely, how to turn them off) 2) how to climb onto our island in our kitchen 3) how to find every candle in the house and 4) how to crawl onto our bed and jump on it.

This has not made my recovery easy.

Through all this, I've learned that while two year-olds are very skilled, they trip often. Well, maybe just my kid trips often. Maybe this has something to do with her size seven (no, I'm not kidding - true story) feet.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Amelia fell on the playground at the school near our house, and ended up with an unfortunate boo-boo.

While she's learning stuff, I'm learning things, too.

I learned I can't keep a two-year old from tripping, no matter how hard I try.

Today, I learned that Amelia has allergies. The allergies have brought on a miserable cough. Sorry for that little genetic gift, Amelia.

And, I've learned that I never feel good enough as a parent...is that normal?

(FYI - Just in case you were wondering, Amelia did not fall on purpose to make a mark so she could protest a relative in jail. Thank you.)

A Risky Post

2011-09-30T21:16:00.000-07:00

I'm going to step on some toes here.

I find it highly unwise for Christians to obtain theological foundation from popular Christian culture.

There is a new "Christian" movie out called "Courageous." I know bits and pieces of its plot - a story of police officers who do not pay enough attention to their families.

The theme of the movie is, in fact, inherently good. I know several churches are going to see this movie. Men indeed should make their families a priority over their jobs.

What Christians need to do, however, is to take cultural aspects of movies like this one with a grain of proverbial salt.

I read a quote from the movie that said, "your job or your hobbies have no eternal value, but the souls of your children do."

The quote angered me.

Not because the soul of my child isn't important....naturally, it is. I pray for my child, love my child, and have a deep and passionate longing for her to be a loving Christian.

No, the quote bothered me for different reasons. See, as a believer in Jesus Christ, I believe in scripture. The words of Christ should be the most potent and stirring words of my life - and no amount of "Jesus Culture" should ever sate me.

Scripture tells me that, "Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31). If I'm cleaning toilets, God can still be honored through that. If I'm cooking food for my friends, God can still be honored through that.

Therefore, I know in my heart of hearts that when I show love to my students at my job, God is honored, and it does have eternal weight and merit. It may not be a tangible weight and merit, it may not be something I will ever see. It may be a faded memory, like the ones of my beloved fourth grade teacher. Eternal weight and merit may come years later, at a homecoming game, when the PA tells the football fans that I am an important influence in the life of one of the girls on homecoming court. It may be the kid who remembers the person who showed them a little love and compassion - and then it may be an epiphany that brings them to the place from which that love stems.

Legacy matters. Love matters. Day-to-day matters. And love should reverberate through every single aspect of my life as a Christ-follower.

So, I may not be the first one to line up at "Courageous." I'm probably not going to do the "Fireproof" Bible study. I get angry when Christian music gives me lines like, "help me believe I'm someone worth dying for." (That's another post entirely, what makes Jesus so awesome is the fact that we aren't worth dying for, and He did it anyway.) Christian Culture is an ocean of factoids to wade to determine spiritual truth. I'll stick to getting the bulk of my theology from those who know better than me, like Jesus. Paul. Moses. And maybe some John Piper.

This article on "How to Glorify God at Work" says more than I ever could, and is scripture-based:

How To Glorify God at Work

"If we cannot be faithful to do our statistics homework or collaborate with our coworkers, then we may lack the strength of character required for dealing with the meticulous annoyances of a more radical life beyond the romanticized horizon." - Andrew Byers (He uses scripture too - check out We Need Boring Christians).

Bebop the Tooth Fairy

2011-09-22T20:51:00.000-07:00

I went today to get my lovely wisdom teeth pulled.

(Hold up. I would like to take a Zack Morris "Time out!" here and mention that I am breaking away from a very riveting episode of House Hunters: International to write this. The couple on the show is in Kent, England. I know that House Hunters is fake and all, but it is very hard not to watch people in Kent. I mean, that's where Lady Catherine's hizzle was in Pride and Prejudice, you know. Oooh...tea and scones...)

Ahem. The teeth.

I went today to get my teeth pulled. Teenage Mutant Ninja Tooth was pulled almost exactly a year ago. That left Shredder , Rocksteady, and Bebop.

Yes, I named my teeth. I still remember the names from Ninja Turtles. If you are just now realizing that I'm weird, you obviously do not know me.

Shredder came in sideways and is lodged against my other teeth. Despite his accommodations in my mouth, he's actually not been too painful. Rocksteady is huge. Recently, he's become quite a nuisance, cramming my teeth together tightly and making my veneered teeth super achy. Then, there's Bebop.

Oh, Bebop.

Doesn't my artistry astound you?

Bebop is a little tooth, and I gave him the name because Bebop sounds like a name one would give a little, harmless tooth. Bebop never even broke through my gums.

Despite his small stature, Bebop has hurt on and off for the past couple of years. Last night, Bebop woke me up due to the pain.

When I went to my dentist today, he informed me that Bebop was a little sketchy. In fact, Bebop is somehow partially in my sinus cavity.

The dentist (La Dentista? El Dentisto? I hope my dentist doesn't know I blog about him.) decided he didn't really want to take Bebop out under his watch. He wanted to leave him in my head, lodged against my top molar. "I can go ahead and pull the other two," he said.

I thought about this.

I thought about the yuck, the nausea, the dry socket. I thought about little Bebop, still stuck in my head, causing ache and pain.

I thought about my rambling blog post about my first tooth removal. I wrote it to be funny, so I would laugh at it later, so my kids would say, "hey, Mom's kinda weird." I also wrote that blog to remember the sheer mess of it all. I didn't want to go through that mess three times.

Most importantly, I thought about the time. Time is precious for me as a mother...not to be forsaken.

"I want 'em all out at the same time," I said. "That little tooth hurts, and I want it out."

After a very brief discussion (and after making the dentist realize that teachers are not like dentists and can't just show up for work at anytime and tell the sub to go home) with my dentist and my aunt, who works with my dentist, we decided what was best. I was ushered next door to an oral surgeon.

I became very antsy.

Surgery makes me shudder. I had surgery at fourteen and it did not go well. I reacted to the anesthesia. Of course, thinking back, what ever went well at age fourteen? (It was the worst year of my LIFE. But that's another blog entry.)

Sitting in the midst of the 80s decor - away from my aunt and the familiarity of my dentist's office- I started to kind of freak out a little. I appreciated the surgeon's willingness to help me, but the nerves began creeping into my stomach, making me wretched. I watched the video where some Dr. Oz-ish looking fellow told me about wisdom tooth extraction. It didn't help.

Then, I started to freak out a little about the cost. I remembered that life was so much easier when my parents gave me money for my teeth. Even though I didn't believe in the whole "Tooth Fairy" thing (which is okay, the Tooth Fairy is dumb), I got money under my pillow. And that money bought me a sweet Little Mermaid doll back in the day.

After my consultation, the oral surgeon (El Dentisto Grande?) calmed my nervousness, my hesitance about anesthesia, and my general stupidity. I felt better. Not great, but better.

Then, I was told the good news: my health care was covering everything but a co-pay. I was so excited. It turns out Bebop, the little impacted tooth, probably served as my tooth fairy.

I'm not looking forward to tomorrow, but I'm ready to end this dilemma that's been going on in my mouth for ten years.

Tomorrow night, my pillow will probably have some blood on it. Probably some of my tears will rest there, too. My flair for dramatic tendencies, I'm sure, will overwhelm me.

Eventually, however, maybe I'll rest easy, knowing my pain will finally, FINALLY be over within a week.

There won't be a five-dollar bill under my pillow, but hopefully I'll take comfort in the fact that these teeth didn't bankrupt me before my property tax bill is due.

Perspective is vital to one silly enough to name teeth.

Moment for Memory

2011-09-08T20:30:00.000-07:00

As a history teacher, I'm prone to remembering the past.

It's what I do for a living.

On the tenth anniversary of September 11th, I can't help but think about George Santanya's haunting words that grace the front of my classroom: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

I think I can speak for many of us when I say September 11th was and is a painful reminder of a country long gone. For me, the reminders of that day are put aside, like an old waffle iron placed into storage, a blanket in a far away closet, pictures in the attic...

What Santanya never told me is that it is much more difficult to tackle an event that lives in my memories. The past is easier...distant. I cannot fathom how the Greatest Generation managed to distance themselves from the Great Depression and the terrors of World War II - and yet their reflections on life and war have often seemed so graceful, so fitting. They remembered because they knew it was important. There is still so much to learn from them, and they are slipping away from us.

Santanya understood. If I am smart, I'll heed his words.

So, bear with me as I'm taking a moment for memory. I'm going to push past the desire to leave the past in and remember September 11th as someone who experienced it.

The computer lab was full of students that fateful day. I remember the instant message I received from a friend - "the towers are crumbling - everyone is crying." I remember the student center crammed with students - wordless, terrified students.

I remember standing in a grocery store void of customers. I was working there, waiting on the president to speak and subdue the untenable fear I felt. I feared for my country, the people within it, and my own life. I shuddered as I watched image after image - horror after horror - unfold on my television set. I gasped at explosions that took the lives of hundreds in seconds and the desolate collapses that took the lives of thousands.

I didn't lose a family member. I didn't lose an acquaintance. I only saw what most others saw. I only experienced the experience of an average American. But despite my youth, I was able to understand that something died that day. In addition to the lives lost, America lost something heartbreaking, nameless - precious. I can't identify what it was, but I'll tell you that the world hasn't been the same since September 11th.

I processed the event like so many others did. I scribbled down stanzas for poems that seemed never-ending. I discussed, analyzed, and processed the event in my political science classes. I made conjecture about the future and pushed past the pain of the past. I listened to Caedmon's Call sing, "my faith is like shifting sand/so I stand on grace," and clung to the fact that my stability did not rely on the strength of man.

While my memories are obviously and rightfully eclipsed by those who experienced true pain and loss, I hope this message speaks for so many of us.

Us. The survivors who stared at the television set, the simple American wondering, "why?" Us. The ones who cried when Bono raised his American flag at the Superbowl to say, "I'm sorry. I care." Us. The ones who realize we've kept things too quiet for a generation of ipod/ipad/facebook loving children who have no idea of how richly they've been blessed....of how quickly the world can change in an instant.

Us. The 9/11 Generation. It's up to us to never forget.

Because those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

My Girl Learns About Jesus

2011-08-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

Amelia looked super cute before church this evening. She wore her little Georgia Bulldog shirt (that was a dress two years ago), jean shorts, and her gold sandals. Her hair was put in a ponytail with a matching bow, because I do want her to look presentable in the house of God.

All of this effort was to no avail, however. Amelia came home from church tonight looking like this:

She was a big pile of marker marks, snot, hair, and mess.

She got to color her "I Love Missionaries!" poster to her heart's content. She did a great job. She just happened to color herself along with her portrait.

"We cleaned her three times!" the nice ladies who kept her said.

I felt bad for them. I hope they understood that I sympathized with their plight. Amelia with markers is like Pandora with a box.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed with the idea of Amelia at church because she's such a handful (remember the lady who told me that keeping her was like keeping multiple babies?), but then I remember the bigger picture.

I'm not sure Amelia understands missionaries, or church, or the fact that I leave her in the Duck Room when I go to sing in choir or attend the big service. I'm fairly certain she doesn't understand the allusion to C.S. Lewis when Brooke Fraser croons, "Walking, stumbling, on these shadowfeet..." on my radio, but her face lights up and she claps her little hands.

What I do know is that Amelia gives me hugs. She says "dank do!" when you offer her something. I know that when I give her a hug, she says "ohhh, sweet!" She dances to almost any song. I know she points at her baby Bible and says "Jee-dus!" and sings, "Jee-dus ove me dis I nooooooooo!"

It's a small brush of paint onto a big picture, this little trip we're taking to church every week. But between the markers and the chaos, my girl learns about Jesus.

And, because of Him, she learns about love.

Yeah-Yeah's Second Birthday Party

2011-08-23T18:06:00.000-07:00

Yeah-Yeah (that's Amelia's name for herself) turned two a few weeks ago.

We had a huge party last year, filled with candy buckets and craziness. I loved it, but it was just too much for me to pull off this year. Big parties are en vogue right now, but there's something simple about a family party that I like and that keeps my sanity intact. We decided to forgo the bigness this year for a simple family pizza party and it turned out great.

Our family really enjoyed the party, too. Well, okay. They enjoyed the pizza. And the cupcakes. Well, Mama didn't like the cupcakes. But everyone else thought they were good. :)

My Dad got Amelia a cute little outfit to wear, and she looked precious in it. She got all sorts of toys that she didn't need (I'm about ready for our first clean-out and trip to Goodwill).

Amelia did pretty well. She didn't smile a whole lot (she's starting to understand crowds and confusion) but she loved it when people sang to her.

Kathi and Asher invited us over for a little party for Amelia, too! We swam, had cupcakes, and had a little bath at the end! It was perfect, and Amelia had so much fun.

She's two. She's really two.

Wow.

So big.

2011-08-05T10:44:00.000-07:00

From six pounds to twenty-six pounds...

From one day, one week, one month, one year - to two years...

From twenty-one inches to thirty-six inches...

From saying nothing to saying hundreds of words...

From barely being able to hold a head up to being able to run, jump, and leap tall buildings in a single bound...

My girl is so big.

Happy 2nd Birthday to the best baby girl in the whole world.

Oceans and Mountains

2011-07-26T08:57:00.000-07:00

Our little family went to St. George Island last week to get away and relax.

I was worried about how Amelia would do traveling and how she would like the beach. She did really well in the car, however, and she really enjoyed the beach!

I love St. George. It's a part of what is called the "forgotten coast," and it isn't as crowded or noisy as other beaches. It's for people who just want to enjoy the sun, sand, and the ocean. St. George is the perfect place to curl up with a book (or two...or three). The state park is especially nice - you can enjoy a whole chunk of the beach to yourself.

The beach situation worked out really well for me. Jeremy and I would play with Amelia for a few hours and then she would go inside for lunch and a nap. While Amelia napped, Jeremy stayed inside with her. That meant that I had the beach and a book to myself. The few hours of solitude and waves were just what I needed. Heaven.

And, due in part to my Native American ancestry (if you don't believe me you should see my grandmother), I got a little darker. I'm not really interested in getting tan anymore - I'm too concerned with the plight of wrinkles and skin cancer - but I got a little sun to abate my pastiness. Poor Jeremy, however, spent a couple of hours in the sun to find himself miserably burned and red beyond imagination, even though we put sunblock on him. The worst part of the trip was probably his sunburn (well, that or our dirty beach house..ugh).

He's wearing the long-sleeved t-shirt here for a reason.

We had fun building sandcastles (that Amelia destroyed), playing in the waves, and walking down the beach. At nighttime, Amelia and I would walk into "downtown" St. George, which consists of a few restaurants and shops. We got ice cream one night at the famous Aunt Ebby's, did a little shopping, and enjoyed the sun setting gloriously over the bay behind the island. I honestly enjoyed our nighttime walks just as much as I enjoyed our daytime beach activities.

Like all good things, our trip came to an end before we knew it. I do enjoy the beach, but I'm definitely a Georgia girl at heart. The night of our return, we headed to Dahlonega to grab a bite to eat. After we crossed over the big bend with the "Welcome to Dahlonega" sign, I saw the amazing Blue Ridge Mountains. Their beauty just called to me. It spoke of home. There's just something so earthy and almost mystical about where I live...I enjoy the beach, but I belong near the mountains.

I'm thankful for our trip, glad to be home, and enjoying the last few days of my summer. Time is running quickly through this sieve of life, and my summer will soon be over. In the midst of oceans and mountains, however, I've been able to get some wonderful rest, and I'm grateful for it.

Falling Action

2011-07-12T13:22:00.000-07:00

Summer, very quietly, will come to a close soon. The heat may not go away for some time, but the work will slowly maneuver its way back into my life, filling my hands with papers, my time with the newness of school, and my mind with all the preoccupation that comes with my...well, my occupation.

Very soon, I will go back to being a working mother.

And it is this time, this upcoming dusk that is approaching, when I start to ache, when I start to see the full scope of what I miss when I don't have this precious gift of time.

People told me when I was pregnant that I would not get any sleep, they told me that I would have a hard time, and my own mother told me that my child would probably be as crazy as I am (she's right), but no one ever really and fully explained the ache.

It's the ache of missing your child - even if she's just gone for a few hours. It's the ache of seeing her bloom and grow. There's such conflict and bittersweet feelings attached to watching her grow - I feel so proud to see her progress, but so sad to know she's moving, inch by inch, away from being little. It's the ache of hearing her say, "byyyye," and "nigh-nigh!" at the end of each summer night, knowing that I'm one day closer to summer's close.

And oddly, I'm taking on the philosophy a biscuit at this stage of life. I'm determined to sop up all the goodness that I can while I still have it with me. I want to enjoy this summer with my baby girl while I still have the time. Because soon, I'll be back at work, and our long, lazy summer days will be gone before both of us know it.

I've got a special girl. I might tell you she's destructive (true) and crazy (yup), but she's beautiful, outgoing, silly, funny, sweet and absolutely wonderful. I'm so blessed to have her.

"And somewhere past the quiet/
I think I heard you growing up/
And I, well I don’t think I’ll ever be the same" - Bebo Norman

Chicken Fried Rice

2011-07-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

I do not profess to be a Japanese steakhouse chef. Those chefs make some awfully mean and pretty incredible fried rice. But, this is one recipe I've been making for years and I feel like I've gotten close to a yummy fried rice that comes close to the stuff you'd find in a restaurant. I feel like restaurant rice is "slicker" than homemade, and that mine is definitely more "sticky," but I attribute that to the GOBS AND GOBS OF BUTTER in restaurant rice.

That being said, this is my version of chicken fried rice. Jeremy loves it. It is probably his favorite thing that I cook. Amelia loves it, too - although it can get pretty messy for a toddler. Amelia had to run through the sprinkler after her encounter with the fried rice...heh.

This fried rice isn't difficult to make, but it does require a bunch of ingredients. I will say that once you have some of these specialty items (rice wine vinegar, etc), they'll last you for a long time and that you can make relatively inexpensive chicken fried rice after you've gotten the stuff to make it.

I make the chicken separately from the rice because I want to actually taste the chicken I'm making. I think that's important. For what it's worth, you could take the chicken recipe, make up some extra "sauce" on the side, add some corn starch to it, and serve it with some broccoli on top of some steamed rice. It'd be pretty close to the Ginger Chicken with Broccoli I've seen at some restaurants.

Fresh ginger makes this. If you omit anything, please don't omit the fresh ginger. It's cheap, easy to grate, and adds so much flavor. I also add more soy sauce, because I eat an unhealthy amount of it. It is soooo good.

I keep my rice pretty basic, because I live with my hubby, who is a Mr. Picky Pants. I like veggies and would include lots of them (snap peas, carrots, broccoli) if I was making this for veggie eaters...but, alas...

Chicken Fried Rice
Serves 4

For the "ginger" chicken marinade:
3-4 chicken breasts, sliced thin
2 tablespoons, fresh ginger, grated
1 tablespoon honey
3 tablespoons (or more, if desired), brown sugar
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 teaspoon, rice wine vinegar
1 teaspoon, sesame oil
Dash of garlic powder

Place all ingredients into a bowl and marinate for at least one hour.

For the fried rice:
4 servings, "al denti" rice (you can make instant, regular..white, brown - whatever)
2 tablespoons, sesame oil
2 eggs
3 cloves, garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
1 tablespoon, fresh ginger, grated
1 teaspoon, crushed red pepper flakes
3 tablespoons, butter
1 teaspoon, toasted sesame seeds
two or three dashes of rice wine vinegar (about a teaspoon)

several dashes of soy sauce (to taste - two or three tablespoons)
pepper, to taste (No salt! You will regret it!)

Heat up a wok or a large pan. Drizzle a little sesame oil in the pan (you will know the pan is hot because the oil will literally "move" in the pan). Saute the chicken pieces in the pan until brown on both sides. Remove the chicken from the pan.

Add another drizzle of sesame oil to your pan. Scramble the eggs and cook them in your pan. While the eggs are still soft, add in the rice, shallot, ginger, and garlic. Add the soy sauce to the mixture and toss the fried rice around gently (as to not break up the rice too much). Once your shallots and garlic are translucent and cook through, add in the red pepper flakes and the butter. Once the butter has melted, add the chicken back in to the mixture and toss lightly. Garnish with sesame seeds and serve immediately.

This picture makes me hungry.

Peaches 'N Cream Oatmeal - the Real Stuff

2011-07-05T07:54:00.000-07:00

A lot of people don't really like oatmeal. I blame this on those little packages.

Remember those little packets of oatmeal called "peaches 'n cream?"

I do. I still eat them when I'm at school. There, I'm forced to succumb to (mostly) quick and convenient eating habits.

Those little artificially-flavored boogers don't really taste like peaches. Or cream.

But this does!

I had a small portion of rolled oats leftover from making strudel bars and granola, and I had some fresh peaches, so I thought I would give the old Quaker a run for his money with some real stuff.

I cooked my oats separately from my peaches. I sauteed my peaches in a mixture of brown sugar and honey. Then, I added my peach mixture to my oatmeal, added in some cinnamon...and topped it with some whipped cream.

Yes, I did it. Beto, my Zumba Master, will not be happy with me.

Because, honestly - what is peaches 'n cream oatmeal without cream?

Amelia and I loved this. I made the "one serving" portion on the back of the oatmeal package, but it'll easily make two servings (it'll make even more servings if you're serving it as a part of a big breakfast) or more. Amelia and I will probably have enough left tomorrow for one of us. I've found this with grits, too - the serving for grits and oatmeal is huge - I can make a whole casserole with two cups of grits.

This is real oatmeal - and I think you'll find the texture and taste much better than that of the little packages. The little packages will do when you're in a hurry or working a job, but this is great for a Saturday morning or a happy holiday.

Here's the recipe. I hope you enjoy it!

Real Peaches 'N Cream Oatmeal

Ingredients:
1 cup, rolled oats (not instant)
1 3/4 cups, milk
2 peaches, pitted and sliced into small cubes
1/3 cup, brown sugar
2 tablespoons, honey (or agave nectar)
1 teaspoon, cinnamon
1 teaspoon, vanilla extract
whipped cream (optional, yet necessary)

Directions:

Cook one serving of oatmeal according to the package directions (usually one cup of oats and 1 3/4 cup of milk). Add a splash of milk or more while it is cooking if the mixture tastes underdone and you are running out of liquid.

As oats are cooking, saute your peaches with the brown sugar on medium heat in a small saucepan. Once the brown sugar melts down, add in one tablespoon of honey. Cook the peaches until they start to brown a little on the edges and "puff up" and absorb the sugar mixture, about five minutes. Once the peaches are done, lower the heat on the peaches to and allow them to simmer while the oatmeal finishes. Add in your teaspoon of vanilla extract.

Once the oatmeal has finished cooking (it will take 6-10 minutes), add the peach mixture. Add in the cinnamon. Top with a large dollop of whipped cream, and stir the mixture in.

Serve and top with a drizzle of honey if desired.

The final product...with the cream added.

"Wat id dat?"

2011-07-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

See this book?

About two years ago, when I was nine months pregnant and insanely hormonal, a sweet college-aged kid came to my door selling these books to help him with his tuition.

"These books are, like, really cool," he said. "And they hold up really well. I mean, I think they're awesome." He gave a nervous, semi-surfer dude laugh while showing them off.

I took a few books from him and started scanning. What struck me about them was that I had the same books when I was a child. As I flipped through the books, I remembered the words and pictures. These books didn't have a lot of frills. They had basic, yet memorable pictures. For some reason, I just thought it would be "awesome" to have Amelia read the books from my childhood. I loved them.

I bought the whole set. The college kid was so excited. When Jeremy came home, his eyes popped out of his head when he saw the bill.

"These are educational books," I told Jeremy. "They'll help Amelia." I also thought to myself that they'd help that nice college kid earn a little money for his tuition. It takes guts to sell stuff to complete strangers.

Since Amelia was born, she and I have been reading through our little collection of these books. We mostly read the number, shape, and color books. (I'm holding off on the child dictionary until she gets a little older.)

And, as many of you know, Amelia's saying of choice has always been, "Wat id dat?" when asking questions.

Our reading of the books usually went like this:

She'd point to a lime. "Wat id dat?"

"It's a lime. Limes are green," I would reply.

She'd point to a heart. "Wat id dat?"

"It's a heart. Hearts are red," I would reply.

I'd work with her on the little page that introduces all the colors. She'd point to all the little swatches of color and say, "Watiddatwatiddatwatiddatwatiddat?" Then, I calmly told her the colors.

If you can't tell, the "wat id dat?" process went on for a long time. And this process was frustrating.

For the past few weeks, I was discouraged. I felt like I wasn't getting anywhere with Amelia. I'm a teacher, for goodness sake. I just felt like I needed to have Amelia actually point to something and say what it was instead of "wat id dat?" I knew (and know) she's young, but I just felt like we weren't making the kind of progress we needed to make.

Last Sunday before church, Amelia brought in her color book to the bathroom while Jeremy and I were getting ready. She opened it up to some of the pages she hasn't destroyed (she loooooooves her books - but she still retains the title of Baby Destructo, regardless of her desire to read them).

She turned the book to the "blue" page and pointed to the blue splash of paint.

"Wat id dat? Booo!" she said.

She turned the next page to the "green" page.

"Wat id dat? Geeeen!" she said.

She turned the page to the "yellow" page (well, what's left of it).

"Wat id dat? Yeh-ohhh!"

Yes, people. My child was answering herself. It was as if a light switch turned on...as if someone told her she could answer her own questions.

Breakthrough. We had a breakthrough.

I got so excited. I stopped in mid-primp, carried her to my bed, and sat down with her, anxious to see what she knew. She got excited seeing me excited. She flipped back through the book, laughing and smiling at me as I rejoiced over her correct answers.

Amelia knows most of her colors, a few of her letters, a few numbers, and she names all sorts of animals (she even attempts the noises). Turns out, her daddy has been working with her, too. When they go upstairs to play, he's taken the time to teach her all the animals. Her favorite thing right now is to say, "Cow! Mooooo!"

All of this to say, I'm thankful that college kid knocked on my door. I'm thankful for these simple, yet uber-helpful books. I'm thankful that Amelia had her first big "learning" moment. Of course, I'm also thankful for Amelia's Daddy, who wants her to learn as much as I do.

There are still goals to accomplish and things I want Amelia to learn (of course - I guess that's a given), but I feel better knowing that we're making progress.

PS Think this company has books for fractions? I'm going to need some help in a few years.

So Thankful

2011-07-02T07:30:00.000-07:00

I'm so thankful that I have friends. I mean, aren't we all thankful for that?

In turn, I'm thankful that that my friends have kids who are friends with Amelia.

Amelia has a great little group of friends. I hope they'll all be lifelong pals.

(Picture stolen from Kathi.)

Groovy Granola

2011-06-28T08:54:00.000-07:00

I love granola.

This stems back to my college years, where I went through a granola phase. I didn't wear make-up (I didn't wear make-up on a daily basis until I started teaching), I wore Chacos with everything, and I wore Bohemian clothing. I ate lots of Nature's Valley granola bars.

Granola is a fun and yummy snack.

I thought about making some granola yesterday, and started skimming through my cabinets to see what I had to make it. This granola is "fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants" kind of granola. Just throw what you have in your pantry into the mix, and it should be fine! You can't go wrong with nuts, dried fruit, and rolled oats.

Here's my simple recipe for homemade granola. I don't know if it's healthier than the stuff you buy in the grocery store, but it's yummy and a little is filling and goes a long way. It tastes yummy on top of some good Greek yogurt, or it'd be great on top of some fresh fruit.

Like I said before, this is just a template - add what you'd like to your granola and take away what you wouldn't like. (Read my post below if you'd like my further feelings on making recipes your own.)

Groovy Granola

Ingredients:
2 cups, old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)
1/2 cup, dried cranberries
1/3 cup, vegetable oil
1/3 cup, honey
1/3 cup, brown sugar
1 tablespoon, vanilla extract
1 teaspoon, cinnamon
1/2 cup, almonds
1/2 cup, pecans

Instructions:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Line a sheet pan with parchment paper.

Mix together vegetable oil, honey, brown sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon together in a mixing bowl. Add in cranberries and rolled oats and fully coat the oats and cranberries with the mixture. Spread the mixture in a very thin layer on top of the parchment paper.

Bake the granola for ten minutes, then remove it from the oven and gently toss the mixture with a spatula and re-spread it. Place the granola back in the oven and bake it for fifteen minutes, and then remove it. Add your chopped nuts to the mixture, and coat them fully with the honey/oil/sugar mixture. Bake this mixture for fifteen more minutes (this makes your baking total forty minutes). Remove from oven, and gently toss the mixture with a spatula. Leave on a baking sheet to cool.

Once the granola has cooled, break it into pieces. It will make around eight servings. You can put it into little plastic bags...

or you can serve it immediately on top of yogurt or fruit (or both)!

Moment

2011-06-25T08:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I need a moment.

A time when I can see beauty. Artistry. A collage of clouds that cascade across the sky.

I need a little glimmer of time where I can be reminded that there's beauty in storms, no matter how fierce they may seem.

I love how nature reminds me of the promises of God.

Mission: Kind of Accomplished...

2011-06-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

Well, my anniversary was last Sunday.

I did Zumba every single day until my anniversary. I met that part of the goal.

Here is the photographic evidence. Woo. Hoo.

I didn't lose a single pound.

In fact, I might have gained a pound or two. I'm trying to convince myself that I was building muscle, but I'm pretty sure that the mantra "muscle weighs more than fat" might be an urban legend of sorts. Maybe it was started to help people start working out. I do know from working out and dieting that it is a process that takes a while to start seeing results.

To be honest, however, I'm much more likely to blame the lack of weight loss on the fact that I'm actually eating a full lunch at home (as opposed to school, where I'd eat a salad or a bowl of cereal) during the summertime. What can I say? I like Turnstile.

I guess on a positive note, Jeremy did tell me that my arms look more toned. I mean, I could honestly care less about my arms (I want leg results), but I guess it's something. Something is better than nothing. I'm pretty sure C.S. Lewis said that.

We went to Mellow Mushroom on our anniversary. We planned to go out somewhere nice. I actually ironed "the dress" and put it on. But I just didn't feel up to it. I had a killer sinus infection that I had been fighting for over a week. It was a Sunday night, Amelia couldn't spend the night with my mom, and we needed to be back before it got too late. I changed clothes, put on something less pretentious, and settled for a piece of pepperoni.

We're going to try Anniversary 2.0 tonight. I'm still not feeling fabulous (thanks to the antibiotics - antibiotics are a double-edged sword) but I'm hoping to be able to enjoy myself and have a little fun.

I'm starting to think that anniversaries and goals are overrated.

Answer: Everything

2011-06-25T06:52:00.000-07:00

Question: What does Amelia get into?

Seriously. Seriously. She's into everything. She doesn't stop unless she's asleep.

"What, Mama?"

In the past month, Amelia has ascertained all sorts of mischievous knowledge. She's learned how to pull things down from the cabinets (for example, the box of Dunkin' Donuts pictured above). She's learned how to open and unbolt all the doors, even the doors with child-proof knobs. She's learned that if she lifts the lid off of the toilet, that it has a nice bowl of water for her to play in. She's learned how further destroy books and dvds to the point where they become useless.

She's a regular Dora the Explorer, my child.

Well, except for the fact that her map leads her on a path of destruction...

Takes a Lickin' and Keeps on Tickin'

2011-06-13T06:23:00.000-07:00

Amelia had her first big "boo-boo" last week.

She fell out of Mom's swing at her pool. Face first.

She screamed. She cried (she doesn't cry in pain much). She bled. Goodness, did she bleed.

I did what I could to stop the bleeding and keep the cuts clean. I slathered her entire face with Neosporin. I wanted to cry.

At least she's smiling, I guess...?

When I took her to nursery yesterday, the workers noticed her boo-boo. I mentioned to them that it was her first big accident, and they said, "Wow, that's amazing considering how active she is." (On a side note, one of the ladies also pointed to Amelia a few weeks ago and said, "This baby? This baby is like FIVE babies. Girl, are you tired? I bet you are TIRED!") For some reason, that really did make me feel a little better.

Amelia had a rough week, so of course, Mama had a rough week. We took away the paci a few days before her accident, so sleeping was/is/will continue to be been an issue. The accident, along with teething (and runny nose) made her a pretty whiny baby. Anyone who knows me knows that my capacity for tolerating whiny-ness is almost nonexistent (hence I do not teach children younger than 13), so it's been tough. This too shall pass, however. I'd rather deal with the paci issue now in the summer while I can...I may live to regret it.

For now, however, Amelia looks much, much better. A combination of Neosporin and youth have greatly helped her face. This morning, she smiled, asked for "Woah Bubba Bubba!" and scarfed down a banana like it was no one's business. Here's hoping for a better week...

Our Semi-Famous White Pizza

2011-06-12T20:37:00.000-07:00

I say "Our" Semi-Famous White Pizza because 1) it is only famous in our family and 2)I have a partner in crime for this recipe:

I know you are mesmerized by his shirt/skills/arms of steel.

Jerm.

He used to work at a pizza place, so he can toss pizza dough and stretch it out really well. If he was gone, I'm sure I could roll out the dough with a rolling pin all by my lonesome. Since he's usually around, however, I use him.

White pizzas, obviously, do not have red sauce. Jerm and I began making white pizzas when we had a request from Jeremy's father, who despises red sauce. Some white pizzas have Alfredo sauce on them and some white pizzas have a garlic/olive oil base. Jeremy and I make our pizza with the garlic/olive oil base, but we saute the garlic in the olive oil and then strain the cooked garlic out out of the oil. What's left is a heavenly concoction. Not to brag too much, but I think the "sauce" is what makes our pizza different. The sauteed garlic sauce complements the pizza and doesn't overwhelm it like I've found in many white pizzas, which are full of chucks of crunchy, stinky garlic.

And then, of course, there's the cheese. Never forget the cheese. High-quality cheese is the secret to good pizza. Use fresh mozzarella, good Parmesan (not from a green can), and a little cheddar and you're guaranteed success (p.s. Aldi has really cheap and pretty decent fresh mozzarella).

We normally top our white pizzas with ground beef (ground sirloin, actually -those two jive really well), but before we made these pizzas, my Dad sent us a lovely chicken that he grilled on his Big Green Egg. We topped one of our pizzas with it, and the results were really good - the chicken had a smoky taste that was really yummy.

Mmm....chicken...

Here's the recipe for Our Semi-Famous White Pizza. It is very, very simple. It does not have a recipe for dough. (We usually go buy our dough at Publix...there's a foodie confession for ya right there.)

Our Semi-Famous White Pizza

Ingredients:
1 dough ball (homemade or store-bought)
1 8-oz package, fresh mozzarella, sliced
2-3 oz, Parmesan cheese, grated
1-2 oz, sharp cheddar cheese, grated
4-5 garlic cloves, minced
2/3 cup olive oil (preferably extra virgin)
salt and pepper
1 pound ground sirloin (optional) OR
2 breasts of rotisserie chicken, shredded (also optional)

Directions:
Preheat to 450 degrees

If you are using ground sirloin, cook it first, sauteing it in olive oil, salt, and pepper. Drain and set aside. (Likewise, if you are using rotisserie chicken, shred it and set it to the side.)

In a skillet, heat up the olive oil on medium heat. Once the olive oil is hot, throw in your minced garlic (Throw in a few pieces to make sure the oil is ready. The oil is ready when garlic pieces will bubble up and float to the top.) Cook your garlic for a couple of minutes until it turns golden brown. Watch your mixture carefully, as burned garlic ruins the oil. Strain the cooked garlic away from the oil and throw the garlic out. Set your container of oil to the side.

If you do not have a husband to throw your pizza for you, roll out your pizza dough (turning the dough ball as you roll it out) and place it on a study pizza pan (preferably one with raised sides to catch any oil that may drip).

Brush the entire pizza crust with your oil base. Be careful not to let the oil fall under the pizza crust, or your crust will stick to the pan and could burn. Make sure there are no pieces of cooked garlic on your pizza - they can make the pizza bitter.

If you are using meat, place the meat on the pizza next (if you are using pulled chicken, brush some of the chicken with the olive oil mixture to keep the chicken from drying out).

Top the meat and crust with the cheese. Start with the mozzarella, then fill in the gaps with plenty of Parmesan and a little bit of cheddar. Top the entire mixture with salt and pepper. Make sure you leave room for the crust at the edges.

Bake the pizza for about 12-15 minutes, or until the sides are golden brown and the center is bubbly.

Here is the pizza topped with the ground sirloin:

I left too much room for crust, but I wanted the mixture to stay in the middle.

This is our classic white pizza.

And here's the chicken pizza:

Now, being the artsy pseudo-foodie I am, I would probably add a little thyme or basil to these pizzas if I was eating it by myself. I might even add some Southern Girl Pesto to the chicken pizza. However, since Jeremy is kind of picky, we kept these two pizzas pretty basic.

It's Over

2011-06-06T18:46:00.000-07:00

There was really no internal decision for Jeremy - no battle, really.

I think he made his decision a long, long time ago.

But, if there was ever any clarity needed - any proof that his baby girl has him completely snowed - I found it today.

Yup, it's over.

I'm gonna have to be the mean one, aren't I?

Beto, My Sparkly Angel

2011-05-31T19:20:00.000-07:00

I set a goal for myself today.

It really isn't one of lofty proportions.

I have a black dress that I bought from the White House|Black Market (or is it White Market, Black House? I always forget.) outlet. I bought said dress for my friend Jenny's wedding, but I ended up buying a more Christmas-sy, cupcakey dress because I thought I fit the occasion more appropriately (Jenny got married around Christmas). Even though I kind of looked like a Christmas Cupcake in dress 2, I stand by the decision I made to wear it.

Which leads me back to dress #1. This dress is a little more, well...va-va-voom...than a dress I would normally buy. I tried it on at Black Mar...er...that stupid store...and showed it to my mother-in-law.

"You need to buy this dress," she said. "It looks good on you."

And I was sold.

When I thought about taking it back (after I purchased the Cupcake Dress), my mother made me try it on.

"I like that dress better. You need to keep that dress."

And I was sold again.

Now, however, I have a dress nice dress that is sitting in my closet with the tags still on it. It isn't a church dress.

It's a "hey I wanna look nice for a date out with my husband" dress.

It's a "hey, I might be in my 30s, but I can still wear this dress!" kind of dress.

It's a "hey, I'd better not eat too much, or my food baby might show!" kind of dress.

Here is a picture (I can't believe I found it...how on earth do you Google "White House Black Market Black Dress...?):

After I thought about where I could wear this dress, I had an epiphany.

My ANNIVERSARY is coming up.

Then, I had another epiphany.

"Um, what am I gonna look like in that dress? I ate a whole box of Cheese Nips last week!"

Then, I happened to remember my friend Beto. Beto is the creator of Zumba. My friend Beto is colorful and sparkly.

Okay, he isn't the real Beto. He's the Beto for the Wii.

I'm pretty sure that the Wii Beto (or any Beto, for that matter) doesn't speak English.

This Beto is a lot clearer than my Beto. I cry foul!

I'm pretty sure that Wii Beto is wearing a pretty spiffy wife-beater.

I'm also pretty sure that Wii Beto doesn't have eyes.

This has not deterred our friendship, however. I've been taking Zumba classes with him (via a translator) for the past few months. We've become friends. Sometimes he tells me that I can do it. Sometimes I have trouble understand what he's doing. Sometimes when he gives me the "come on, come on" gesture, I start pondering other gestures to return in his direction (all in fun...Beto knows I love him).

I need Beto. I consumed 3.4 million calories last week (I have no defense. Teachers get excited when we don't have kiddies and get to leave the school to eat lunch). Beto needs to get me into dress-ready shape.

So, I've set a summertime goal for myself.

1) I'm going to do a Zumba workout every day until my anniversary.

2) THEN, my sweet, darling, wonderful husband (you reading this, tur...Jerm?) is going to take me somewhere fabulous for our anniversary in this dress. Then, I'll eat an unhealthy amount of ...probably steak. We're going to take a picture. I'm going to make him smile.

3) And then, I will thank Beto - my sparkly, baggy-panted, neon-shimmery angel from above. He will smile over me in all of his Zumba glory.

I'll bet you're about to cry knowing you've wasted five minutes of your time reading this pointless dribble. I'm putting it on the bloggy blog to keep me accountable.

Here I go, yo!

Perspective

2011-05-30T07:13:00.000-07:00

Girls' nights are normally pretty...well...normal. Relaxing. Fun. Non-eventful.

Then, you have times when plain ol' strange stuff happens.

This past girls' night, my friends and had a quite atypical experience at Starbucks.

As we were about to leave, April and Kathi heard a strange noise.

They hopped into my car. I was already in the driver's seat and didn't know that anything was amiss.

"Roll down the windows!" one of them said.

I rolled down the windows to hear a girl having a true, honest-to-goodness meltdown.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

The sound radiated across the parking lot. Everyone sitting outside of the Starbucks heard it. We heard it perfectly in my car. People at their tables even turned from their steaming cups of coffee to see what was happening.

"Do you think someone died?" one of my friends asked.

"Something's going on..." the other one said. "Is she getting into a fight with the other girls around her?"

I paused for a moment. I knew. Maybe it was because I work with dramatic 14 year-old girls. Maybe it was because I often hear that cry coming from the girls' restroom at school (it shares a wall with my classroom). I don't know how I knew, but I did.

"She broke up with her boyfriend," I said.

A few moments later, the truth was revealed.

"I'm TWENTY-SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIX!" the sobbing girl cried (still in a voice that was unimaginably loud - and for me to say someone's voice is unimaginably loud is quite a statement). "I CAN'T BELIEVE HE DID THIIIIIS!!!! I can't go THROOOOOOOOUGH THIS AGAAAAAAAAIN!"

We listened to her for a few moments more. We couldn't take our eyes off of the chaos. In our defense, everyone else at Starbucks was alarmed, too. This girl was a black hole that sucked all energy into her web of weirdness.

Finally, I looked at Kathi.

"You wanna tell her about life?" I asked.

She gave me a knowing look.

"Seriously," she said.

Maybe my friends and I are old and cranky at this juncture in our lives. But I think all of us pondered the same thought.

Really?

Maybe we're all just smart enough to know that losing a boyfriend - a simple boyfriend - doesn't require such a dramatic meltdown in public. I'm not going to repeat someone's story (or stories), but I've seen precious friends incur real drama.

Sad events. Life-altering changes. My blog roll is filled with story after story of heartbreak and true crises.

If anyone should be allowed to have a meltdown in public, it should be some of my friends. Yet, they radiate an unshakable strength.

This girl wasn't having real drama. No, what made this girl so...eye-catching...was the way she was acting. This twenty-six year-old was behaving like she was fourteen, and that comment may actually be insulting to some of my eighth graders.

Meltdown Mama was definitely lacking a good point of view. Maybe someone needs to tell her that life only gets more difficult as you age. My pastor frequently says, "it's not if bad things happen, but when."

I hope she enjoys her naivete while it lasts.

I also hope that one day she shakes off her immaturity to gain a little perspective.

Because those of us with a little smidgen of of a life view found her meltdown simply bewildering and sad.

Chocolate Cream Pie - My Variation

2011-05-27T19:18:00.000-07:00

My awesome friend Kim gave me a recipe for Chocolate Cream Pie that I believe she found in an old cookbook.

Kim and I adore the Chocolate Cream Pie at 2 Dog, a local restaurant that makes a simply divine Chocolate Cream Pie.

"This isn't like 2 Dog's," she said. "But it's pretty close. It's missing...something...but it'll do when you can't have 2 Dog. 2 Dog doesn't use Hershey's Cocoa."

So, I looked at her recipe, thought it over, and made it "my own."

Here's what I came up with. This makes two pies!

An Attempt at Chocolate Cream Pie

For the pie:
1 cup chocolate chips or chocolate bits, melted (preferably a good dark chocolate)
1/4 cup cocoa powder
4 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 stick butter
1/3 cup, all-purpose flour
1 12-oz can, evaporated milk
Vanilla extract
2 deep-dish pie shells (yes, I feel sinful writing that - you can make your own if you'd like)

For the topping:
12-oz container, whipping cream
1/3 cup, powdered sugar
2 tablespoons vanilla extract, or one vanilla bean

For the pie:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Melt the chocolate over a double boiler or in the microwave in ten second intervals. Make sure the chocolate is glossy and melted, but do not overcook it (as it will become lumpy and taste funny). Add the cocoa powder to the melted chocolate and set aside.

Cream the butter and sugar together until the mixture becomes fluffy. Add eggs one at a time until combined. Add vanilla, flour, and cooled chocolate, and evaporated milk. The mixture will be pretty runny.

Poor the batter into both pie shells. Bake for fifty minutes. The mixture will be light brown on top and dark and chocolatey in the middle.

It'll crack a little. That's why God made whipped cream.

See? Dark in the middle. I checked. Just for you. :)

You can serve the pie warm if you wish, but I prefer to chill it overnight, top it with fresh whipped cream, and serve it nice and cold.

(By the way, most people know how to make whipped cream, but if you don't, put your cream, sugar, and vanilla in a bowl. Beat the mixture until it is nice, stiff, and fluffy. Yummy, simple, and heavenly.)

Foodie Confessions

2011-05-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

I'm not a real foodie. I'm a pretend foodie. A psuedo-foodie, if you will.

I'm just a country girl who comes from healthy stock - ancestors who tended to animals and spent days working in deep, red earth. My appetite is as big as my Papa's plowing fields.

Basically, I'm not a foodie. I just like to eat.

But, for the sake of this blog, I like to pretend that I know something about food. Surely, years and years of watching Food Network and my experiences in the kitchen have taught me ...well, something. And as I eat more and write more, I learn more from my experiences...it's a simple process, really. But even simple processes can be thwarted by a hungry appetite. Sometimes, my appetite desires downright unsophisticated stuff, and sometimes, I make very un-foodie decisions.

So, here are some confessions from my dabbling into food. I'll confess my foodie sins to you, my priesthood of fellow foodies (okay, I'll just confess to the one other person who reads this blog - hi, Mom!).

1. Cheese Nips. They aren't really made of cheese...for the most part. Um, I'm pretty sure they're not nips, either (whatever a nip is...). They're not even really that great. So why can't I stay away from Cheese Nips? Anyone who knows me knows that I am a major cheese snob who likes cheese plates filled with cheese from Europe. I don't know what my fixation is on those little bitty crackers, but they make my hips grow at an exponential rate.

2. If I didn't think about what was actually in Chicken McNuggets from McDonalds, I would probably eat them on a regular basis. If I didn't feel like I was going to die after eating them, I would also probably eat Chicken Planks from Long John Silvers, too. Both McDonalds and Long John Silvers actually have good Sweet n' Sour sauce...dare I admit it?

3. I make bad food. All of the time. I know through teaching that trial and error makes good teachers, so why can't it make a good cook? I just made a batch of fried rice that I felt like was "recipe-worthy." I've been making fried rice for years and I finally liked the final product. It took me six years to really like it, folks. Six years (I kept making it because Jerm loves my fried rice - stay tuned for the recipe).

4. Taco Bell. I don't care what's in it. It's good.

5. I don't cook nearly as much as I should. My friend Aubrey posts her weekly meals on her blog, and it just makes me feel insanely guilty. I really would like to cook more this summer when I'm not working, but it gets so hot in the summer that cooking becomes difficult.

6. My Granny makes the best biscuits in the world. She showed me how to make them when I was a little girl, but I can't remember how to make them. This summer, I am determined to learn while she is still able to show me "the ropes."

7. You know I don't like fennel and cilantro. Here's another factoid: I don't think I will ever enjoy a banana. Amelia loves them, but the smell/taste/texture makes my gag reflex go wild. I can eat them if they're cooked into muffins or covered in caramel flambe, but other than that...(p.s. Pioneer Woman doesn't like them, either).

8. I miss pot roast. Jeremy hates it so much that I never get to make it. There are some days..ya know...when a girl just wants a simple pot roast from the Crock Pot.

9. Lucky Charms marshmallows are one of my all-time favorite things. My mother would not buy me Lucky Charms as a child. Seriously, Lucky Charms marshmallows taste like forbidden fruit.

I could add more, like I have never tried "real" sushi, or the fact that I really enjoy Cool Ranch Doritos, but I think this enough for now...

Why I Love My Job

2011-05-21T07:42:00.000-07:00

Sure, the kids can whine.

Sure, the kids can cuss you out.

Sure, the kids can throw paper, pencils, and general miscellany in your direction.

But who else has a job where you get to do this?

The 8th Grade Dance had an 80s theme this year. The 8th Grade teachers dressed the part, reveling in 80s goodness and being perfectly rad. We danced with the kids, attempted the Thriller Dance, and drank lots of sherbet punch.

I adore my co-workers. I love the kids (I really do), but my co-workers make my job tolerable on the bad days and they make it just entirely fun and hilarious on the good ones. We eat, we laugh, we share, and we wear Snuggies. And even when the going gets tough and we gripe, we're still a team. I couldn't ask for better co-workers.

(And, as an addendum, I would like to add that I've worked with some fabulous people who've left, too...I will always consider you a part of my "team" and I love you, too!)

Spring's Whirlwind

2011-05-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

Spring really sucked me into a vortex of business and crazy over the past few weeks. I've been so overwhelmed with the regular "end of the year" things that I haven't been able to do much else. This post will be disjointed because my Springtime life was pretty scattered.

The end of school was insane this year - possibly the busiest end of school ever. I went from the "long days," (Don't laugh - those long days were tough on teachers. There's a big difference between working an extra hour at a desk and an extra hour wrangling 27 14 year-olds.) to the CRCT (which usually, for me, means a day with no break at all), to all of the "end of the year" stuff. It was fun, crazy, insane, and exhausting. I really do love Spring at school. Kids start to grow up in such a sweet, subtle way. Things blur by and then...it's just over. I love that.

We went to two Easter egg hunts this year. One was at a friend's home, the other was at my Granny's house. Unfortunately, because I'm an ADD-ridden spaz, I forgot my camera and didn't take pictures. Jeremy, however, did take some pictures of Amelia hunting eggs with my mother, "Nana Flower." We really enjoyed Easter as a family.

We celebrated sisterly achievement. My sister-in-law Heather had her first concert as a big-time singer (She's truly fabulous. Go to her website and check her out!) and my baby sister D'Anna GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE. Yes, you read that right. Try not to cry and think about how old you are. She graduated with her Associate's Degree in Nursing and is now an official RN. She worked so proud to accomplish her goal and I'm so proud of her little over-achieving self.

Jeremy and I have been able to sneak away from the busyness and spend some good time with Amelia. We went to the Dahlonega Vegetable Farm and picked our own strawberries (I highly recommend this - so much fun), we went to the new Varsity in Dawsonville, and we also went to the park several times. I can't wait to spend time with my little family this summer. After her ear surgery, Amelia has been so much better. She's so pleasant and full of life (for the most part). I can't wait to enjoy my healthy and happy baby girl.

I know that it has been a long time since I blogged. For the past few weeks, I simply had to devote my free time at night to school. Now that the rush is over, I hope to get back into writing/blogging/blathering. It's a passion I simply cannot abandon.

From the Dead

2011-04-14T19:34:00.000-07:00

It's Easter time.

In choir practice Wednesday, we practiced for our upcoming Easter services. I've been singing songs all day. Of course, that made me scour the Internet to look for some of my favorite songs to listen to around this time of year.

I listened to two songs tonight. One is a new one, Matt Maher's "Christ is Risen." It has a beautiful chorus:

"Christ is risen from the dead/
we are one with Him again/
Come awake, come awake/
come and rise up from the dead!"

The other is by Kristian Stanfill. We've sang it in church for years, and it still gets me EVERY time. It's his version of "Jesus Paid It All." I love it when we sing old hymns and mix them with some modern lyrics. The bridge...oh, the bridge...there's something so simple yet substantial about that bridge...

"Oh, praise the One who paid my debt/
and raised this life up from the dead!"

The 15th chapter of Corinthians always comes to mind when I hear this. It was spoken at my Grandpaw's funeral - "Where oh, death is your victory? Where is your sting?"

There is no sting.

Christ conquered fear, death - the GRAVE.

He conquered my life filled with iniquity. My life - my pitiful life - my crazy life - my odd life - is raised from the dead.

No matter what, I live. Because He lives. Because He gave.

Did I mention that I don't deserve any of it?

That, my friends, is a beauty of Easter.

May I live a life worthy of His sacrifice. May I live a life that exemplifies being raised from the dead.

Christ, my redeemer
raised my life from putrid stain
I will live again

Amen.

With a Little Help from My Friends

2011-04-10T18:03:00.000-07:00

The weeks before Spring Break were overwhelming.

Amelia had surgery on the 18th of March to have tubes put in her ears. She had four ear infections in six months, and the last ear infection never completely healed up with antibiotics. When Jeremy took Amelia to the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor (by the way, that term is passe - those doctors are called something like Otolayrnologists or something else with way too many syllables), he told us that Amelia had pus backed up behind her ears.

It sure did explain a whole lot.

My happy, sleeping baby had turned into a cranky insomniac. She was constantly griping - and even the simplest things would set her off into a tantrum.

All of this took place around the time of my birthday. So, to be honest, it really put me into a mood. One of those narcissistic, Molly-Ringwald-esque "it's my birthday and I'll pout if I want to" kind of moods.

My poor mother noticed it. She notices all of my moods. She and my sister sent me flowers.

My sweet friends noticed it. I started getting messages saying, "wanna have a play date?" When I got three of those in the same day, I realized I needed to get out of my grouchy, self-absorbed state.

So, with a little help from my friends, I arranged two play dates. One was with Kathi and Kim, and the other was with Alisha.

Alisha teamed up with us the next week at Chick-fil-a, and we all had a good (albeit germy) time in the play area.

After that, we had a play date at my house - filled with nuggets, tater tots, and very infamous cupcakes.

I love having play dates with my friends and Amelia's friends. Amelia gets so much out of the experience. She loves to see her friends and play with them! And, in turn, I get to see my sweet and wonderful friends.

It's a win-win situation.

Here's to many, many more play dates in the future.

I'm so thankful for friends - my friends, and Amelia's.

Simple Iced Coffee, a la Dana

2011-04-10T13:49:00.000-07:00

It's hot out today.

It's only April 10th, but the sun is boiling down on folks in Georgia today.

I love it.

It is a little sad, however. We don't really get a spring in Georgia. Spring is weak-kneed and falls too easily to Summer's mighty, humid grasp.

Days like today make me want iced coffee. I've developed quite a coffee habit in the past year or so (babies do that to people). Around this time of year, I usually trade in my hot mug of joe for an iced coffee.

I experienced problems with my iced coffees over the past few years. It's pretty difficult to thoroughly dissolve sugars and mixtures into iced coffee. I could hot brew all of my ingredients together in my coffee pot, but my iced coffee wouldn't be so icy when I want it cold. Plus, I have a Keurig, which brews iced coffee and then cools it down for me.

My solution in the past has been to go to Starbucks and purchase bottles of their vanilla syrup, but it has been difficult to obtain one this past year. Plus, if you haven't heard, Starbucks is kinda expensive.

So, I made a simple syrup this morning with 1 cup of sugar, 1 1/2 cups of water, and two tablespoons of vanilla bean paste (you could use extract or a whole vanilla bean). It worked really well - you just have to wait until it cools.

When the simple syrup is cooled, find a nifty container to put it in, like the one below. Keep it in your cabinet for future use.

Now, you're ready to make some yummy iced coffee.

Take your cup, and add some simple syrup to it, like so (a couple of tablespoons - or more, depending on how sweet you like your coffee). I used this fabulous cup that I bought at Wal-Mart:

Next, add in the ice...

Then, the coffee. If you have a Keurig with an iced coffee K-Cup (like me), you can use that, or you can just chill some regular coffee.

This picture makes me drool.

Then, add in some milk. I like to use skim milk, because it is lower in calories and you can't really tell the difference between it and 2% milk.

Next, you stir, stir, stir!

Then, add in your favorite things. Caramel syrup for a caramel kick, chocolate sauce for a mocha kick, whipped cream for an extra frothy iced coffee (I actually don't like whipped cream on my cold coffee..I think it creates a weird filmy taste and dilutes the taste of the coffee).

Gloriousness in a cup right here:

Notice that I added caramel to the straw on accid...I mean, as a decorative touch.

Save the simple syrup and use it whenever you want to make iced coffee, lemonade, limeade, or anything else that needs a sweet kick! (To make lemonade or limeade, get the juice of one lemon or lime in a cup, and then add in some simple syrup. Top with ice and water, and stir the mixture vigorously. A mint leaf would be yummy in there, too!)

Here's the recipe:

Simple Iced Coffee

Ingredients:
3 tablespoons (give or take), simple syrup (see recipe below)
Ice
8 ounces cold coffee
3 or four ounces of cold milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (optional)
caramel syrup (optional)

Pour simple syrup into bottom of a cup. Place ice in cup (as much or as little as desired). Top with cold coffee, or iced coffee K-Cup brewed in Keurig. Top with milk and vanilla and mix the coffee thoroughly. Top with caramel syrup for a caramel macchiato, or with chocolate syrup for a mocha.

Simple syrup recipe: on a stove top, heat up 1 cup of sugar and 1 1/2 cup of water on low heat. Bring the mixture to the boiling point, and whisk the mixture together with a wire whisk. The mixture should be clear. When it reaches this point, turn off the heat and add 2 tablespoons of vanilla bean paste (vanilla extract or a vanilla bean could also be used). Let the mixture sit until cool, and then place into a separate container for keeping.

A Few Things

2011-03-30T18:24:00.000-07:00

1) I wrote a blog entry a couple of days ago. It was depressing. Slightly weird. Reflective of my current state of mind/mood/being. I deleted it. Sometimes, too much is just too much.

2) Blogger has a new little option on it. It's called "stats." It tells you how a) how many people view your blog b) which posts people favor and c) where said people live. Someone in China has looked at this blog. Other than that, there aren't many interesting things. Most of my blog traffic comes from Facebook. Most people favor my inept attempts at humor as opposed to my blathering, narcissistic blog entries. Honestly - truly - no surprises.

3) I've had a food blog going for a couple of months. The stats on it are downright depressing. I'm thinking of shutting it down and just merging it with Farr Away Thoughts.

4) I was going to write "FAT" instead of Farr Away Thoughts in number three...you know...to shorten it. Man. The short version of Farr Away Thoughts spells FAT! That makes my inner third grader giggle.

5) Jeremy got me a Nook Color for my birthday. I wasn't very happy with it at the time. I love books made of paper, you see. I love the smell of books. I love the feel of books. There is something comfortable about holding a book.

But then, I realized that there are nice things about the Nook. I can look on Facebook without getting out of bed (I don't have a smart phone). I can purchase scads and scads of Mr. Darcy fanfiction without having to be humiliated by the cashier at Barnes and Noble/Books-A-Million/Target. Mr. Darcy fanfiction makes me happy.

6) Spring Break is a necessity for teachers. If it ever gets taken away, we all might revolt and throw our apples out the window in protest. Seriously - we might drive our mid-sized sedans off into the sunset and never, ever return.

(Number six was a joke. I love my job. I don't want to get fired. I would never really drive off into the sunset...I need to afford my mid-sized sedan. If you're a member of the Georgia Professional Standards Commission, please know that number six was a joke. NUMBER SIX WAS A JOOOOKE!)

7) Starbucks makes cake pops now. I am very afraid of what might happen to my waistline.

8) My birthday was a couple of weekends ago. This was the same weekend as Amelia's ear tube surgery. If you didn't know, Amelia had ear tube surgery. Oh, and my birthday kind of sucked. I'm determined to make up for this fact before I turn 35.

9) I have the most ah-maze-ing friends. Alisha, Kathi, and Kim all jumped in to come and "save me" the week after my birthday by arranging play dates and general fun. Amelia and I got a much-needed break with some sweet, sweet friends. I'm so thankful for my friends. My mom and sister saved me, too - with some retail therapy.

10) "Dancing With the Stars" is a plague that invades my brain and never leaves, and yet I can't turn away from the sheer trainwreck-iness of it. (For what it's worth, I also can't get away from making up words like trainwreck-iness.) Seriously...why can't I stop watching the stupidity? And why can't I stop making up stupid words?

11) Jeremy's face is swollen into a rather large ball on one side. He has some sort of weird tooth abscess. He looks like Quasimodo. It's very odd. I don't know if he'll let me take his picture...

12) Did I really openly admit to reading Mr. Darcy fanfiction? Man, once this is out in cyberspace I can't take it back....

13) Amelia is ca-rah-zy lately. She's cute as a button, but she's crazy. She's into everything in ways I never imagined. Sometimes I think she's taken a baby flux capacitor and brought back Baby D'Anna - because she acts just like Baby D'Anna. I'm telling you people...I knew what was in store for me. But, on the other hand, she's saying so many cute things, like "see you later!" and, "A..C...C...D!" (We're getting there, people. Getting there.)

14) Elvira. The best song ever. I'm just sayin'.

Southern Girl Pesto

2011-03-30T17:41:00.000-07:00

Spring is in the air - so I wanted to celebrate all things green and vibrant.

Pesto? That's pretty green and vibrant.

Pesto always sounds good to me.

I love pesto, which is an Italian sauce typically made with basil, pine nuts, garlic, Parmesan, and olive oil. It is typically a pasta sauce, but it can be used in all sorts of concoctions.

While whipping of a batch of traditional basil pesto last night, I decided to come up with a pesto sauce using stuff that a Southern girl might have in her fridge.

Hence, Southern Girl Pesto was born. It's surprisingly bright, healthy, and deceptive - most people won't guess that you used spinach!

Or goat cheese. I'm on a goat cheese kick...can you tell? :)

Here's the recipe:

Southern Girl Pesto

Ingredients:
Four handfuls of fresh baby spinach
2 garlic cloves
1/4 cup toasted pecans (this is the "Southern" part!)
3 ounces Parmesan
1 tablespoon goat cheese (because, you know...people in the South have goats, yo.)
Salt and pepper, to taste
3 to 4 tablespoons, olive oil (or to taste)

With the exception of the oil, place all of the ingredients into a food processor and thoroughly combine. While processing the ingredients, drizzle in the olive oil. Add more or less olive oil depending on the consistency you desire (for super think pesto, add less - for a thinner pesto, add more).

Traditionally, pesto is served over piping hot al dente pasta. This warms the ingredients through and adds a new dimension to the sauce. However, pesto can be used on sandwiches, on grilled food, and in wonderful and various ways.

Oh, and no matter what, be sure to top your pesto with more Parmesan. It's the American way. Orrrrr...maybe the Italian one.

Here's the aerial view:

Easy Brie-sy.

2011-03-16T18:34:00.000-07:00

I love cheese.

I could probably devote an entire blog to it.

That being said, I'll include a bunch of recipes that feature cheese on this blog (not cilantro or fennel - just reminding you).

Brie is a fun cheese to eat, and it makes a simple little appetizer to serve at a party.

While at a friend's wedding a few months ago, I ate some delightful Brie with brown sugar and dried cranberries on top of it.

Inspired by that example, I created my own version of this Brie topping.

It's yummy.

To start, get a small wheel of Brie. You can buy baby Brie or regular Brie, but I prefer the small wheels as opposed to the large wedges. The kind of Brie you purchase all depends on your palate. I wouldn't tell just anyone this (okay...I realize this is on a public blog...whatever), but I've even had success with the store brand version of Brie. I like it just as well as that fancy-pants name brand stuff.

To make the topping for the Brie, get a bowl and combine 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup dried, sweetened cranberries, 1/4 cup chopped pecans (toasted tastes better), and 2 tablespoons of honey. Mix the ingredients thoroughly, and then top the Brie with the mixture.

If you're feeling adventurous, you can pop the Brie in the oven for a couple of minutes, or you could drizzle a some extra honey on top.

This is a really difficult thing to mess up - trust me!

Serve your Easy Brie-sy with some crackers. For a fancy party, I'll buy fancy crackers. But I'm not going to lie - Wheat Thins work pretty darn well.

Here you go. I took this picture with Jerm's iphone, so if the quality looks bad you can blame Apple!

A Contender for the Best Song Ever

2011-03-12T19:18:00.000-08:00

I can't shake Brooke Fraser's song "Flags."

I just can't.

It might be one of the best songs ever. A song that addresses injustice. A song that invades the "WHY?" that is so prevalent in my soul. It's a haunting, stirring anthem of a peace that transcends fear with perfect clarity.

I'm in love with it. Tears fill my eyes every time I hear that beautiful bridge - "you who mourn will be comforted..." It gets me every time.

I've shared parts of the lyrics on here before, and I know I've talked about how much I love Brooke Fraser, but the lyrics are just too wonderful not to share in their entirety.

I just think it's a relevant day to share these words.

Come, tell me your trouble
I'm not your answer
But I'm a listening ear

Reality has left you reeling
All facts and no feeling
No faith and all fear

I don't know why a good man will fall
While a wicked one stands
And our lives blow about
Like flags on the land

Who's at fault is not important
Good intentions lie dormant
And we're all to blame

While apathy acts like an ally
My enemy and I are one and the same

I don't know why the innocents fall
While the monsters still stand
And our lives blow about
Like flags on the land

I don't know why our words are so proud
Yet their promise so thin
And our lives blow about
Like flags in the wind

You who mourn will be comforted
You who hunger will hunger no more
Oh, the last shall be first
Of this I am sure

You who weep now will laugh again
All you lonely, be lonely no more
Yes, the last will be first
Of this I'm sure

I don't know why the innocents fall
While the monsters stand

I don't know why the little ones thirst
But I know the last shall be first
I know the last shall be first
I know the last shall be first

If you'd like to hear the song, click here. Flags is the last song on the digital record bearing the same name.

The Biggest Loser

2011-03-12T08:02:00.000-08:00

Last Thanksgiving, I entered a "Teacher's Recipe Contest" sponsored by Taste of Home and Books Are Fun. My friend Susan thought it would be a good idea.

I like to cook. I'm a teacher. It made sense.

I entered two of my cheesecakes. My Nutella Cheescake:

And my Dulce De Leche Apple Cheesecake:

Since my recipes were submitted to Taste of Home, I kind of assume that they own my creations. You can find the recipes here and here.

When I entered the contest, I was informed that the winners would be announced on February 2nd. I didn't get an e-mail from anyone on February 2nd (well, not from anyone important - maybe from Gap). To be honest, I kind of forgot about it. A few days after the anticipated announcement date, I realized that I didn't win and I scoured the Internet to find out who, exactly, won the contest.

No winner.

A week or two later, I found that Books Are Fun, in an attempt to be technologically relevant, has a Facebook page. Apparently, according to Books Are Fun, there was a debate over first and second place winners. The judges couldn't decide. They were going to announce the winners - and, in a serendipitous fashion, surprise them at their schools during the first week of March. They said something to the effect of, "out of the 200+ recipes, 175 have been selected for the cookbook."

That sounded odd. They only had a little over 200 recipes submitted? Granted, the contest was only for teachers - but 200?

I looked up from my computer (a rare occurance these days). "Jeremy," I said. "Only 200 recipes were submitted to this teacher recipe contest - and 175 are going to be in the cookbook. Isn't that odd? I mean, if I don't make that cookbook, I'll feel really dumb."

Jeremy replied, "If you don't make that cookbook, we're turning our kitchen into our new home gym."

He was teasing, but I started to feel pretty bad. I hadn't received any kind of notification saying I was one of the 175 who were in the cookbook. Granted, I don't know if Books Are Fun/Taste of Home would notify folks...but still. I felt like a culinary loser. A big, fat, culinary loser. I felt like Anne Burrell and Robert Irvine needed to take me in on their "Worst Cooks in America" show and teach me their chef-y ways.

I looked on the Books Are Fun Facebook page the day after the 3rd place winner won, and then I looked at the second place winner a few days later. Under the second place winner, I saw the caption (and I'm paraphrasing here), "this person placed second out of over 14,000 recipes! Congratulations!"

"Hold up," I thought.

14,000?

Hey, people - there's a BIG difference between "over 200" and 14,000.

Big. Substantial. Huge. Ginormous.

After I read that, I picked my phone and text messaged Susan. I'm sure she felt relieved by such news.

But seriously, what kind of wonky math were these people using? Were they trying to make the rest of us rejects feel bad?

I still don't know if I made the cookbook. My guess is that I didn't. It would be a neat surprise if I did, but I don't have my hopes up.

At least I don't have to worry about renovating the kitchen space...

Tired. Just Tired.

2011-03-12T06:34:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to lie.

I'm tired.

My child has been going through a series of earaches and sickness that seemed (and still seems) never-ending. This past month has been the worst. Amelia can't shake the ear pain, the congestion, and the cough. This week, she coughed so hard she threw up several times. I would clean her up, wash everything - and then she would puke all over again.

She went from being a great sleeper to a baby who would wake up screaming hysterically in the middle of the night. Not crying, mind you - screaming. I often put her to sleep with ear drops, which helped some. But there have been several nights where nothing would help and we'd just have to hear her scream in the middle of the night for extended periods of time.

Jeremy's started back coaching, so I'm on my own a lot. I give a lot of props to single mothers. They're amazing.

Amelia has also been bad when I take her out in public. She always used to be really good, but she's gotten much worse. She used to gripe a little bit, but she's actually pitched a few fits. Maybe the "terrible twos" are coming early. I see my friend's kids in public - and yeah. I just feel like Amelia will never be like that good, no matter how hard I work with her.

Yesterday, she cried for twenty minutes when I handed her a sippy cup. I. Am. Not. Kidding.

School has also been stressful. It's "crunch time" around here for the CRCT. Some of the kids choose to react to "crunch time" by making poor decisions. It hasn't helped my situation. I had weird school dreams all night and I'll probably spend a chunk of this weekend making plans on how to get my kids to pass the CRCT. Some may call me obsessive, but I don't care. Good teachers want their kids to do well, grow up, and move on. That's what I want for my kids.

There's some light at the end of the tunnel. Amelia is getting tubes in her ears next Friday. Next Saturday is my birthday. I'm not going to lie - I was kind of disappointed when I found out that she was going to have surgery on Mom's birthday and that her recovery would carry over to mine. I wanted to do something fun for my birthday this year, but to no avail. To be honest, I'm in my 30s (I just shuddered) and it's time to put other priorities over having fun. And, to also be honest, Amelia's tubes might just be the best birthday present ever. I'm ready for a healthy baby.

School is going to give me a break, too - spring break. Thank goodness we're still having it. I'll take that "extra hour" any day over a forsaken spring break!

Of course, I realize that this is a whiny post. Sometimes I just need to gripe out to cyber-space, even if no one wants or cares to read my whining. This is just one of those days where I could sleep for hours on end and never wake up.

Exhaustion has set in.

I've got to fight it.

Amelia's Hair

2011-02-27T13:22:00.000-08:00

Amelia's hair has grown a lot in one year. From this...

One year ago.

To this..

Amelia in all of her follicle-induced glory.

Now, granted - babies do a lot of growin' in a year. But Amelia's hair has already started to fall past her shoulders. Her hair has started to take on a personality of its own - filled with cowlicks, loose curls, and drama.

She has more hair than I do, and she's eighteen months old.

And, unfortunately for her, I have no idea what to do with so much hair. She ends up having the sad, quirky Pebbles ponytail on top of her head, or she gets a clip put into her hair. At this point, she refuses to wear a headband.

I can barely fix my own hair - and I've never had to deal with so much hair before. This morning, I tried to put her hair in pigtails for church. It's a feat I was able to accomplish when she was younger and had less hair. Now, her hair is starting to overwhelm me. There's just tons of it. I put her hair in the Pebbles 'do and we went to church.

Don't get me wrong - I'm thankful Amelia has so much hair. It's not fun being thin-headed like me. I hope that she'll have hair like her Aunt D'Anna or her Aunt Heather when she gets older.

I'm just worried that I won't ever be able to fix it.

Even her little "Pebbles" look is getting more difficult to accomplish now that her hair is getting longer.

Yup, I fixed this. Sad.

I think I need help...?

A + A on Valentine's Day

2011-02-19T15:17:00.000-08:00

Amelia and her BFF Asher had a special play date on Valentine's Day.

Kathi and I decided that our kids needed to have a sweet little Valentine's dinner together.

So, Kathi and Asher picked up dinner and brought it over to me and Amelia. Amelia made Asher a (really ghetto) Valentine, and Asher brought Amelia a little plate with flowers on it. Amelia dressed in her purple corduroy dress with hearts on it, and Asher wore his (oh-so-adorable) bow tie.

Honestly, we did it for kicks.

And boy, did we laugh!

I don't really think the kids understood what was going on.

In ten years or so, they'll probably yell at us for embarrassing them in this fashion.

In two years, it will be hard to convince them to do this kind of thing on Valentine's Day.

I'm glad they're still little and naive.

The Adventures of Baby Destructo

2011-02-19T14:53:00.000-08:00

She climbs on top of tables...

She destroys books...

Plex had arms in his past life.

She pours water on top of cell phones...

She is BABY DESTRUCTO!

Baby Destructo can make mere mortal mothers weep in corners. Baby Destructo can make you question your sanity.

The force is strong with Baby Destructo!

Watch out for your cell phones! Watch out for your grilled cheeses! Baby Destructo fears no one or no thing!

Back before Baby Destructo's powers were fully developed...

A haunting quote.

2011-02-15T14:29:00.000-08:00

“How many interviews did I give and say, ‘You know what’s important between me and Miley is I try to be a friend to my kids’? I said it a lot. And sometimes I would even read other parents might say, ‘You don’t need to be a friend, you need to be a parent.’ Well, I’m the first guy to say to them right now: You were right. I should have been a better parent. I should have said, ‘Enough is enough — it’s getting dangerous and somebody’s going to get hurt.’ I should have, but I didn’t." - Billy Ray Cyrus

Right now, I'm thankful my Mama wasn't my BFF.

Right now, I'm thankful that she (hopefully) passed on some wisdom about parenting to her daughter.

Right now, I'm kind of scared of the "me, me, me!" generation that's going to one day lead this world.

(Amelia, if you read this one day, I hope you know that I am not your friend. When you graduate from college, we'll talk. Until then, I'm your MAMA. And I'm not saying this because I don't want to get to know you, or because I don't love you. I'm saying this because you need a parent and not a party planner for your life.)

Vanilla Bean Paste and Oreo Cheesecake

2011-02-12T06:07:00.000-08:00

I'm not a perfect cook.

I'm real, and I'd like to share my real experiences on here.

So, I'm going to be honest.

The first thing I thought about this morning was, "I am out of vanilla bean paste."

Not, "yay - is my child still asleep at 8:07?"

Not, "why am I awake when my child is still asleep at 8:07?"

No. I thought about vanilla bean paste.

Because, quite frankly, vanilla bean paste is heaven in a little glass jar, and one of my new culinary necessities.

I made an Oreo cheesecake for a friend last night. I haven't made an Oreo cheesecake in a few years. I used to make them all the time, but people started asking for other flavors - dulce de leche, Nutella (okay, I'm the only one who asked for that), plain, etc. An Oreo is an acquired taste, and not everyone likes them.

Last night, my attempt to make this cheesecake was quite humorous. I was talking with my friend Kim while I made the cheesecake, and the whole Oreos I nestled into the bottom of the cheesecake batter were bobbing up to the top. I felt like it was a weird culinary version of that game at Chuck-E-Cheese where you hit beavers with a mallet.

"Did you flour your Oreos?" Kim asked after hearing me struggle.

Oops.

I forgot to flour my Oreos so they'd sink. I worked with the Oreos for a a little while longer and tried to batter the top evenly, but it didn't work. After a little time in the oven, two of the Oreos still managed to crown the top of the batter like the teeth of a six-month old.

I knew my cheesecake was going to crack.

Overall, I've had more cheesecake successes than failures. My gas oven has done a world of good in protecting my cheesecakes. If you ever get a chance to purchase a gas stove over an electric one, I highly recommend it because of its even cooking quality.

But even my nice gas oven couldn't protect my cheesecake from my disastrous Oreo oversight.

So, when I woke up this morning, I knew it would be cracked. (And I was right - it had two small cracks in the center. Nothing major, but it didn't look stellar, either.) And, at the same time, I knew I needed the vanilla bean paste.

I hate giving people cracked cheesecakes. Usually, my solution to this problem is to cover the cheesecake with some sort of topping. The most natural topping in this case would be homemade whipped cream.

Guess what I make my whipped cream out of? Cream, sugar...and VANILLA BEAN PASTE.

So, I'm lamenting the fact that I'm out of this magical concoction of vanilla beans, extract, and ...well, who knows what else. I'm sad that I was too dumb to flour my Oreos. I'm sad that my cheesecake cracked and that I'll have to top my cheesecake with whipped cream that doesn't contain vanilla.

Lessons for today:

1) vanilla bean paste (or at least vanilla extract) needs to be in the house at all times.

2) flour the Oreos.

By the way, you can order Nielson-Massey Vanilla Bean Paste at Williams-Sonoma. You get four ounces for eleven bucks. Two ounces of Publix brand's vanilla extract is eight or nine dollars, and Nielson-Massey is a top-notch brand, so I consider this a good deal. The paste is a lot cheaper than whole vanilla beans, too.

I'm ordering some today, along with a tortilla press that I've had my eye on for quite some time. I'll let you know how my next adventure in my kitchen turns out.

Here's a link to help you out:

Vanilla Bean Paste

Roasted Vegetable and Goat Cheese Pizza

2011-02-07T15:31:00.000-08:00

I ate a roasted vegetable and goat cheese pizza at Cheesecake Factory a few weeks ago.

"I can make this," I thought as I was munching on it.

I'm not a stranger to making pizza. Jeremy, actually, helps me make pizzas often. He used to work for Buck's Pizza back in his younger and cooler days (those were the glory days for him and his buddies - just ask them).

Over the years, we've thrown lots of things on top of a pizza. We've even made pizza on top of the Big Green Egg. It was insanely good.

My attempt to make this pizza yielded a different result - but I think a few tweaks will help me out.

And here's a big plus - you can save the leftovers for pasta primavera!

First, I started off with some pre-made dough from Publix. I could make my own dough, but I like Publix and have no problem with their dough. I would, however, like to say that I cannot throw dough in the air. It's just something that Jeremy can do that I am not able to do. He acts like it is a simple thing, but it isn't. I'm not much of a baker or dough-worker unless it concerns cheesecake. Trust me on this. My scones from last Christmas looked like the faces of little old men.

After Jeremy kneaded and tossed the pre-made pizza in the air, I topped it with what we call our "garlic base." Basically, it's several cloves of garlic chopped and sauteed in extra virgin olive oil. After that, I strained off the cooked garlic (I think it leaves a bitter taste if I include it) and brushed the garlic-infused olive oil on top of the pizza crust.

The night before, I roasted some veggies in a 350 degree oven for an hour. I included: 2 pint containers of grape tomatoes, one eggplant, one bell pepper, artichoke hearts, a zucchini, and one onion. I sliced them and covered them with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Today, I took some of the cooked tomatoes and onions and sauteed them in another pan with some garlic, tomato paste, olive oil (sensing a theme here?) and some chicken broth. I added in some fresh rosemary and basil. I took the mixture and blended it together with my hand-held immersion blender. Voila! Red sauce.

I topped the pizza dough with the "white sauce" and some of the red sauce. I topped the the the whole pizza with half of the of the roasted veggies, fresh mozzarella, Parmesan, salt, pepper...and, of course, goat cheese. I've really taken a liking to goat cheese. Tasting it makes me think of fried green tomatoes, since most restaurants pair the two together. (Goat cheese + tomatoes = perfect, by the way.) Goat cheese is tangy, crumbly and creamy all at the same time. Tasty.

I saved half of the veggies, most of the red sauce, and some of the cheese for some future pasta primavera. After I was done assembling the pizza, I popped it in my very hot oven (I prefer the gas side of my oven for pizzas...and everything else) and let it cook away.

The result? It was good. I think I should maybe do a better job adding a little definition to the veggies by not cooking them as long as I did - they all sort of became a little ambiguous in the concoction. I would also like to add a little bit of vinegar to the mix, too. I think I'll purchase canned artichokes to add a little vinegary taste to the pizza.

Here's the recipe in true "recipe form" if you would like to have it:

Roasted Vegetable and Goat Cheese Pizza
Serves 4 for a dinner-serving size, or 8 or more if you're turning it into an appetizer pizza

Crust:
1 pre-bought dough ball from your local grocery store or pizzeria

Veggie Topping:
1 red bell pepper
1 eggplant
1 sweet onion
1 can of artichoke hearts, drained
1 zucchini
2 pint containers of grape tomatoes
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste

Pizza Sauce:
1/2 cup roasted tomatoes
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1/2 cup chicken broth
2 cloves garlic
2 fresh basil leaves (or one teaspoon dried basil)
salt and pepper, to taste

To top the pizza:
1 8-oz ball of fresh mozzarella (in the specialty cheeses section)
4 ounces of goat cheese
Parmesan
1 tablespoon of thyme leaves (fresh is preferred)
2 fresh basil leaves
salt and pepper

Olive Oil Base
5 or 6 garlic cloves
1/2 cup olive oil

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

For the Vegetables:
Slice all of your vegetables in small, bite sized chunks (cut the grape tomatoes in half). Place the tomatoes, onions, and eggplant on one side of the baking sheet, and place the artichoke hearts and the red bell pepper on the other side. Cover the vegetables liberally with salt, pepper, and olive oil. Roast the red bell pepper, zucchini, and artichokes for around 35-40 minutes (so they still retain their texture), and the onion, eggplant, and tomatoes for one hour. When the vegetables are roasted, set them aside.

After you take out the veggies, preheat your oven to 450 degrees.

For the red sauce:

Dice the garlic cloves. In a skillet, heat up the olive oil - throw in a piece of the garlic and add both garlic cloves when the small piece of garlic begins to sizzle. To the mixture, add chicken broth (slowly so it doesn't burn you), tomato paste, roasted tomatoes, salt and pepper, and herbs. If you would like a smooth consistency to the sauce, use an immersion blender to mix the ingredients together.

For the "white" sauce:

Dice the garlic cloves. Place the olive oil in skillet. Heat the mixture until the garlic sizzles and becomes golden brown - but do not burn the mixture.

To assemble the pizza:

Using a floured surface, roll out the pizza dough. If you know how to toss pizza, do so accordingly. Place the rolled out pizza crust onto a large, round pizza pan (or a square pan if you don't have a round pizza pan).

Coat the pizza with the "white sauce" (excluding the garlic - it can taste bitter if you leave it on the pizza). Then, coat the pizza with a small amount of the red sauce. Save the rest of your red sauce for your pasta primavera.

Top the pizza with your roasted vegetables, mozzarella, and Parmesan. Dot the top of the pizza with small chunks of the goat cheese. Save some of your cheese and veggies for the pasta primavera - trust me, there will be plenty of much cheese and veggies left.

Top the pizza with the fresh thyme, salt and pepper, and place into the hot oven. It will cook in approximately 12-15 minutes, or until the sides of the crust are golden brown.

That's it! For the pasta primavera, cook half a box of your favorite pasta. In a separate pan, add your leftover red sauce and your leftover veggies until they heat back up. Add your cooked pasta to your veggie and red sauce mixture, and then top with your leftover cheese (the goat cheese makes this dish extra creamy and wonderful). Voila! Simple and easy!

Let me know if you plan on using this recipe! I hope you enjoy it!

Here's a picture of the finished product:

"Dank Do!"

2011-01-26T17:14:00.000-08:00

Amelia seems to think that the saying, "thank you" cures all of her rambunctious (and sometimes evil) activity.

She doesn't really say "thank you." She says, "dank do!"

She likes to pick up the house phone, dial an assortment of random numbers, and then speed off as soon as I see/hear her. When I finally do catch up to her, she hands me the phone (with some random Australian on the other line going, "Allo? Allo? Mate?") and then says, "dank do!" like she's done me some sort of favor.

She eats bananas, grilled cheese, muffins, and all sorts of things in her high chair. When she's done with her food, she throws the remainder on the ground. Then, she looks at me, smiles, and says, "dank do!"

After I've fixed her hair, she likes to take out her little ponytail I've created on top of her head. She yanks out the rubber band, hands it to me, and says, "daaaaaaaaank do!" in a little sing-song voice.

She loves coasters. She loves to find and pick up the ceramic or tile ones, run around the room with them, and then throw them on the ground. When I bend down to pick them up, she looks at me and, of course, says, "dank do!"

For some reason, she's equated "dank do!" with "See how cute I am, Mama? Please don't kill me."

She's a-makin' me crazy. Being snowed in for almost a week nearly drove me to the madhouse.

But she's a cutie, my baby girl. Just when I think I've made it to my limit, she does something exceptionally cute to redeem herself.

For example, Amelia loves to act like a celebrity in the grocery store. The other day thought she was a supermodel and the aisles were her runway. She rode down the aisles in her buggy, clapped, screamed, and sang, "We Did It!" She oohed and ahhed over the banana aisle like it was the most glorious thing known to man. The produce man looked at me oddly when Amelia started yelling, "Heeeeeeeey! Nanas!! NANAS!! Ooook! Oook!!! NANAS!"

Yes, that's MY child. Heh.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaank Do!

John Mayer Got This One Right...

2011-01-13T18:40:00.000-08:00

"You'd better know that in the end/it's better to say too much/than never to say what you need to say again..."

Beautiful lyric. Beautiful.

Ice and Loathing in Georgia

2011-01-12T19:12:00.000-08:00

It snowed Sunday night.

It wasn't a true Snopocalypse, mind you. But, things around here have been quite snowpocalyptic. Seven inches came down in Georgia, a normally mild-mannered state.

Before the snow, folks went nuts. Kroger was ransacked of bread and other essentials. I waited for an eternity to pick up my prescription (one that I would have normally picked up in thirty seconds) at the local pharmacy.

After the snow hit, people realized a cold (hehe), harsh truth: the panic was warranted. Almost all of northern Georgia was completely shut down as the snow blanketed the ground and roads. Temperatures were low enough to make any slush freeze in its terrible, tire-ridden tracks. Georgia's seventeen snow plows never encountered such a travesty before. Major interstates were (and are) shut down, the news went nutso with "Winter Storm 2011!" and I watched lots and lots of riveting, quality daytime television.

My little family has not left the house since Sunday. (Going across the street to the in-laws doesn't count. Okay, maybe it does a little. But not really.) The roads are still pretty wretched.

Luckily, we spent the time being somewhat productive. I chased Amelia around the house. I cooked a little. I chased Amelia around the upstairs. Jeremy ate lots of Hershey's Kisses. I did the laundry, straightened up the house (it's a never-ending process), and sorted clothes for Goodwill. I chased Amelia as she grabbed the phone and attempted to call our Asian friends in Mongolia. Jeremy made snowballs and threw his Hershey Kisses wrappers in odd places. I watched lots of Yo Gabba Gabba - I'm pretty sure that much is not even legal in Hawaii.

Did I mention that I've been chasing Amelia around the house?

The first day that I got out in the snow with Amelia, she hated it. She cried and cried at the snow on her hands and on her coat. We stayed out for about 10 minutes. Amelia cried for 30 minutes after we went inside. Despite this, the snow was a really pretty novelty that I enjoyed. At the end of the day, the freezing rain that fell created a glossy sheen over the snow that made it such a translucent wonder. I really enjoyed the snow on this day.

The second day Amelia and I got out in the snow, she enjoyed it a little more. She let Jeremy and I take her on the sled. She even said, "wheee!" a couple of times. We stayed out for about 30 minutes. The snow was pretty enjoyable on this day.

Today, it was just too darn cold. With temperatures hovering in the 20s, I just didn't think it was worth it. I heard someone say that the mail ran today, so I thought I'd give Amelia and I some fresh air. I bundled us up and walked to the mailbox to pick up the mail. The driveway looked somewhat dry from the house, but as I was walking I noticed a few spots with black ice. I slipped a couple of times, but I completely busted out and fell when I got to the mailbox. Some kind of miracle (mother's intuition?) allowed me to turn on my side so that Amelia wasn't hurt. I'm pretty sure Amelia thought it was some kind of fun, but I cried out in pain. After a few seconds, I was able to lift both of us up from the ice. When I looked down, it had two small dents - I barely made a mark in the ice. My hand is scratched and my side is bruised.

This is some serious crap, this ice. And I'm over it.

I'm ready to walk to my mailbox again. I'm ready to go buy groceries at the grocery store without incurring mass panic. I'm ready to drive to a Starbucks - to a Chickfila - to anything. I'm ready to go back to school (yes, I said it) so that I can get through the school year and actually enjoy my summer.

I've got a fever. Cabin fever. And I wish I had a prescription for it (more cowbell!).

I realize how whiny that sounds. But summertime works out so much better for Amelia and me - we can go to the park, play, hang out with Asher, go grab lunch together, shop, etc.

January is simply a repulsive month.

And I realize it could be worse. The power is on. The heat works. I have Netflix. I'm blessed.

But for now, I just want temperatures to hover above the 40 degree mark. I want to pick daffodils with my baby girl. I want the warmth of spring to flood back into my cheeks and skin, where winter has left me sallow-eyed, dry, and pale.

I'm tired of freezing. Period.

Food, Glorious Food

2011-01-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

Guess what I did over the break?

I didn't wrap presents. I don't do that (I coerce/bribe/beg someone to do that for me).

I didn't write pages and pages of my book ...something I should have worked on (there's more written than I've posted, but I just don't want to post it).

I didn't make lesson plans (ha!).

I cooked. I cooked and cooked and cooked some more. I put my trusty Le Creuset pot to good use and went on a culinary journey in my own kitchen.

It was fun, frustrating, and ...well...educational.

The Cookie Swap

My culinary journey started off with a cookie swap held at my house the Saturday after break. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly Donna Reed. I'm not known for my party-throwing abilities. But there's something about the words cookie swap that got a ton of my friends riled up and excited. I had friends asking me, "are you going to have that cookie swap?" months before I sent invitations or even set a date. So, with that much hype, I felt like I needed to "up the ante" a little.

I made two soups - potato and chicken noodle (Rachael Ray has a wonderful recipe for poached chicken and couscous that I transform into soup). I got all the fixings for little sandwiches. I arranged a cheese plate with Gouda, Vincent (from Spain, I think), and Brie topped with brown sugar, honey, pecans, and dried cranberries. Heaven! I'm glad I made so much food - there wasn't much left! The cookie swap took place after eating the "snacks," and boy - did people go to town!

There were so many cookies to choose from. I made a malt-chocolate chip combo that Jennifer really liked. Kim's pumpkin cookies went over very well. I can't even begin to name all of the cookies we had. This year's cookie swap was super-fun event filled with more refined sugar than one needs in a lifetime. I'll be honest, I spent the next day eating all the leftover cheese as opposed to cookies. I'm a cheese fiend!

Christmas Cooking

A few days before Christmas, I attempted Julia Child's very famous Boeuf Bourguignon. It took a lot of beef, paper towels, wine, and effort. I made the trip to Green's, my local grocery store, to purchase hand-cut roast and a good bottle of wine (since I wouldn't know one if it me in the head). I sauteed, chopped, and simmered for hours. Was it worth it? Well, you know, I don't think it was. It was tasty, mind you - but at the end of the whole process, all I could think was, "this is a really good...roast." I like roast as much as the next person, but it's not on my top ten list of most amazing dinners ever (that would actually go to the Rachael Ray chicken recipe above). If I'm craving beef, I'd rather have a good steak. It takes a lot less effort and time.

After the beouf, I threw myself into my obligatory cooking for Christmas. Some of my creations turned out like they normally do (like Ms. Cindy's mac and cheese and the Pioneer Woman's sweet soul 'taters), some of my creations turned out to be really good (the Dulce De Leche Apple Cheesecake), and some of my creations bordered on the plain-out gross (the petite vanilla bean scones I made were a disaster - they looked like big lumps of yuck - not at all like the little pillows of heaven my friend Amy makes). On Christmas Eve, I discovered I left my tube of sausage in the car. I was supposed to make the Cream Cheese Sausage Thingys (actual name -where you stuff refrigerated crescent rolls with a mixture of sausage, cream cheese, and cheddar cheese) for the Christmas breakfast at the Farrs' house.

The incident left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I swore off cooking for several days after Christmas.

That didn't last long.

Culinary Excursions

A few days after Christmas, Jeremy's friend Seth came over. Seth is in physician's assistant school in New Mexico, where they eat green chiles on their Chick-fil-a. Seth brought me over some famous New Mexico chiles, along with a recipe book for authentic New Mexican dishes.

I was hooked.

After 24 hours of pondering, I put the green chiles into a white bean chicken chili recipe by Paula Deen. Paula, despite what anyone might say about her, knows a southern palate well. I've never a recipe of hers go wrong or be bad, so I decided to try this one out. The chili turned out to be very spicy, but perfect for a cold day! I decided that I might as well make some chicken soup while I was making chili, so I cooked both recipes at the same time and let them simmer, and then cool. I then wrapped them in little containers (after giving a portion to Seth, of course) and popped them in the freezer. I can't wait for that crappy school day in February when I can whip out some chicken chili and be happy!

I spent a few days reading the recipes, and then decided to invite my family over to try and attempt homemade enchiladas. I really wanted to make homemade corn tortillas with masa and a tortilla press, but Bed, Bath, and Beyond didn't have a tortilla press. I'm telling you, this New Mexico cookbook inspired me.

D'Anna and I worked together and made enchiladas with homemade sauce (I put the chiles to good use) and fajitas (an old Cain family standby). Cooking with D'Anna is great. I could say it's because we get to spend time together (true), or that she and I get to share a connection over food (true), but I'll be honest. I really love that she cleans up after me. She's seriously the best sous chef ever!

We thought the enchiladas turned out well. D'Anna and I are both excited about the idea of the tortilla press! I'll have to find one soon.

Sweet Endings

I'm obsessed with finding the perfect cup of coffee. I've found this elixir called vanilla bean paste that Williams-Sonoma sells. Sometimes I'll make a homemade whipped cream and include the vanilla bean paste - the concoction goes really well on top of a super strong cup of coffee. My friend from school, Jill, taught me her way of making a mocha (pour a packet of hot cocoa into it), and I recently found this awesomeness from Ghiradelli. I put one heaping tablespoon on top of a strong cup of coffee to make a fancy mocha with it.

This ground chocolate is thebomb.com!

I also discovered the beauty of malted milk powder over this Christmas break. I put it in my chocolate chip cookies, and I also made a version of malted hot chocolate with it. This hot chocolate recipe is more like a sipping chocolate - very potent and full of chocolatey goodness. Don't do like I did and make more than the recipe calls for - it will overwhelm you! Trust me! It was wonderful, but very rich. I think I'm going to start putting a little malt in some things (like pancakes - I swear that's what IHOP puts in theirs) here and there to see what I can develop.

Back to Life - Back to Reality

Now that I'm going back to work soon, my foray into cooking will mostly cease. I've really enjoyed my culinary journey. I'm somewhat depressed about the fact that I'll soon be back in a lunchroom full of screaming children eating All Bran when I could be in my own kitchen (or at Turnstile), but that's life. I guess the good news is that I can take off the holiday weight gain!

Cooking is truly an educational experience full of trial and error. I love that feeling I get when I cook something and nail it. Conversely, I always take away a lesson when I cook something sub par or downright disgusting. Instant results, which naturally arise from cooking, appeal to my true ADD-ridden nature.

If you're still reading this, maybe you should get some kind of reward. I hope, like me, you learned something from my holiday cookin' experience!

I don't know if I'll ever cook this much again - it was exhausting!

Here's hoping 2011 will be a year full of yummy food, full bellies, and happy tables!

(Note: There are links to many of the recipes I used on this page. If you find a recipe in bold, click on it and you should link to it. My HTML is acting funny and I couldn't get the links to underline!)

New

2010-12-29T12:55:00.000-08:00

The cold that arrived in Georgia on Christmas totally whitewashed my little town with its snowy presence.

I loved it. Granted, I only enjoyed it for about an hour or two (I'm a summer girl, you see), but I loved it nonetheless.

I love that the snow somehow represents newness. And at the juncture of a new year, there's something becoming about the end of old things in fall and winter, and the birth of new things that seep into winter's cold, harsh months. The snow seemed to wash everything clean - and I think anyone can identify with a need to sate, renew, and clean parts of one's life.

I guess that's what makes New Year's Day so interesting and bittersweet.

I have a few New Year's resolutions. They're pretty basic - echoed by many - and not really worth mentioning. It's the same old stuff - be nicer, be more active, be this --- do that.

But more than good intentions, I always cling to spring's promise in the midst of bitter cold. I'm so thankful I serve a God who chose to recycle and renew me - and that He continues to do so in spite of my failures. I'm failure on my own.

I'm so thankful for new. So thankful for its presence, its promise, and its hope.

Here's to 2011, my friends...

White Christmas in Georgia

2010-12-26T17:54:00.000-08:00

We had a great Christmas.

Amelia's favorite gift was from God. She loved the snow.

Our house in the snow.

My new favorite picture of Jerm and Amelia.

Amelia got way too much for Christmas - most of it was from her grandparents. I think she enjoyed being around her family, getting her toys, and eating lots of unhealthy food. She's having trouble with her top molars and hasn't slept well lately, but this Christmas night she slept for 12 straight hours without a peep. She was exhausted!

She was a lot of fun this Christmas. She's such a little blessing.

Worst Christmas Songs....EVER

2010-12-23T06:59:00.000-08:00

Over the holiday season, Americans are bombarded by an endless barrage of Christmas music.

Some of the Christmas music is good. Some of it is great. Some of it...well, some of it is terrible.

Here is my personal list of the worst Christmas songs (ever), as well as my reasoning for why they belong on this list.

1) "Merry Christmas, Darling." The Carpenters sing this little ditty. The previous sentence alone should warrant the sheer atrociousness of this song, but it's the lyrics, simply oozing with smut and sappiness, that make this one a stinker. The line, "logs on the fire/fill me with desire" is enough to make me want to go to the Macy's Great Tree...and jump off of the top of it. It's a horrific song. Simply appalling. Here's the YouTube link ...listen if you dare....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSHevB1QZOM

2) "The Christmas Shoes" has got to be one of the most depressing Christmas songs ever. For some reason, middle-school age children love "The Christmas Shoes." I wish they didn't - I hate listening to this song. The story of a little boy too poor to buy shoes for his dying mother is sad, but more than that, it's cloyingly sad, like the writers of the song want to make you cry. It's almost an artificial sad - I know there is no boy who went through this. I know this isn't real. I know this was made up to make the world cry. And yet, I find myself listening to this song and tearing up - they get to me, dang it! They get to me!

3) "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Yes, you read that correctly. Have you ever listened to the words to this song? I used to think it was just about a man who persuaded his date to stay in because it was so cold. But ohhhhh, no. Listen a little closer. There's a lyric in there where he offers his date a drink, and the date accepts the drink. A few stanzas later, she says, "Say, what's in this drink?" I mean, maybe I've just been through Rape Response too many times, but this song sure does sound like it's about date rape. I think he slipped her a Rufie. Okay, maybe not. But it's still a creepy song about a man getting his date drunk so she'll stay with him. And that, my friends, has nothing to do with Christmas.

4) "Dominic the Donkey." Have you ever heard this little gem? No? Be glad. XM Radio's Christmas stations this year have been absolutely terrible. The "Holiday Traditions" station constantly plays this song. Apparently, someone paid XM to play this song every thirty minutes. The song is about Dominic, the Italian Christmas donkey. Throughout the song, you hear Dominic go "hee-haw, hee-haw!" I mean, it's bad. It might be the worst Christmas song ever. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ok5rOO2v2dU.

5) Madonna's version of "Santa Baby" is simply evil. Have you heard this? Is she trying to sound like Betty Boop? I like how Madonna constantly turns herself into other people. Right now, she's British (snicker), but for this song, she sounds like a Jersey Girl gone horribly wrong. It doesn't even sound like her. Terrible. Just terrible. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ycWObpi73Y&feature=player_embedded#!

6) Nothing says "Christmas" quite like Run-DMC. Right? Ugh. Their "Christmas in Hollis" is another song that XM Radio plays all of the time. I always change the channel every time this song comes on. I don't have a problem with Run-DMC necessarily, and I don't have a problem with hip-hop, but this song is just all sorts of wrong, filled with bad rhymes (It's Christmas time in Hollis, Queens/Mom's cookin' chicken and collard greens") and an odd, not-so-catchy beat.

7) I loathe "Where Are You, Christmas?" from the Grinch soundtrack. The Jim Carrey version of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas just doesn't hold its weight next to the old, animated classic. Not only that, but Faith Hill delivers us a stink-bomb of a song about Christmas - talking about it like it's a person. I have no value for a song that equates Christmas to a persona and a feeling - and not to any kind of religious celebration. This song literally makes me angry. It's a song that just takes the over-commercialization and sappiness of Christmas way, way too far.

There we go, there's my list. If you notice, "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" isn't on it. That's because it is Grammy-worthy next to this list of truly cringe-worthy songs. And that, quite frankly, should tell you a whole lot about how I feel about the songs on this list.

Letter from a Cynic

2010-12-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa,

I don't particularly like you.

It's really not your fault. My mother equated you with evil when I was a child. She told me Christmas wasn't about you (and let's be honest, she had a point), that it was about Jesus.

I never sat on your lap, had my picture made with you, or left you cookies. So, I realize that you and I don't really have the kind of relationship that warrants a letter like this. A friend at school, however, is giving letters to Santa for the Make-A-Wish Foundation (through Macy's), and I would like to help her out.

An 8th grade teacher like me could ask for a lot for Christmas. I could ask for quieter children, students who are more apt to learn, for immaturity to vanish when students return in January. This list could be quite long.

Instead, I'd like to ask for something else.

I'd like to ask for people to open their eyes.

I've heard of a blue (blue, blue, blue) Christmas. But what I'm having is a Green Christmas. I'm feeling totally jaded this year.

See, Santa, as I get older, I realize that Christmas isn't all cocoa and tinsel - lights and stardust. Christmas isn't about what you receive. This Christmas, more than ever, I realize that people are hurting. People around me lost loved ones, went through the terrible pain of divorce, lost their home and everything they had. Children at my school made Christmas lists with "mechanical pencils" and "toothbrushes" scrawled on them in their tiny, handwritten letters.

My heart aches for them.

Christmas is so much more than that sweater my grandmother won't wear (that I spent forty dollars on). Christmas is so much more than that box of useless sausage and cheese. Christmas is more than the Xboxes, iPads and iPods we desire. Christmas is supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus. And whether you are a Christian or not, Santa, I think you should know that Jesus lived a life focused on helping others.

Helping the sick. Helping the poor. Helping the needy.

The over -commercialization and the vapid consumerism of Christmas gets to me. I watched a video on YouTube called Advent Conspiracy. Ever heard of it? Americans spend so much money on Christmas - over 400 billion - that we could pay for the world's water crisis ten times over. People want to change a picture on Facebook, but they don't want to give money to kids who have been abused. People feel somewhat empathetic for the poor people, but just walk on by the Salvation Army kettle because they have to save up for their child's iPad. So many children wake up on Christmas morning to an explosion of gifts, while other children around the planet just want to wake up to clean water.

See what I mean? This parallel giving isn't the kind of stuff that Christmas is supposed to be made of. We've gotta be intentional and perpendicular in our giving.

And I'm guilty of it, too. Did you see my blog post on the camera? Yeah, put me on your naughty list.

So, my prayer this Christmas is that people will start to open their eyes a little bit to the world around them and give intentionally and relationally to those who need a true gift of compassion.

Santa, I'm thinking maybe you could help spread the word.

Sincerely,

Dana Cain Farr

Dear Snuggie, I love You

2010-12-08T19:12:00.000-08:00

The Snuggie is, quite possibly, the dumbest invention ever.

Until you put one on.

Then, you realize what a true gift the Snuggie is. It's more than a blanket with sleeves. It keeps you warm.

The recent cold snap in Georgia has been and is insane. Highs in the 30s and lows in the 20s and teens is not the kind of weather that makes a southern girl like me happy. Monday, the high is supposed to be 27. Can you believe that forecast?! TWENTY-SEVEN DEGREES. In GEOR-GUH. I'm personally used to a 60-degree Christmas...and that's perfectly fine with me.

Cold weather + dumb, cold Georgia girl = a need for a Snuggie.

Snuggies have their disadvantages. Sure, they need belts. Sure, they attract pet hair. Sure, they are waaaaaaay too long for the vertically challenged. Sure, they create enough static to set one's house on fire. Sure, they make you look like a really dumb Jedi-esque reject from DragonCon.

But, other than that, Snuggies are awesome. You can turn the tv without getting your arm cold. You can read a book without getting your arm cold (and read a book with that nifty book light that came with the first sets of Snuggies). You can put a small box of Cheerios in the huge pocket in the front of your Snuggie and snack while on Facebook. You can walk around the house - all without getting cold! The Snuggie is a revelation, I tell you! A revelation!

Not only that, but you can make aesthetically-pleasing choices regarding your Snuggie. Does red wash you out? Then try a blue, cloud-filled, designer Snuggie. Want to talk a walk on the wild side? Buy a leopard Snuggie. Want to support your favorite college team? Buy a Snuggie with your favorite team's logo emblazoned on it! If you just want to keep things simple, Snuggies are available in solid colors as well. How can you honestly go wrong with a Snuggie?

I think the Fashion Police needs to issue a statement that assures all southerners that it is okay to wear Snuggies in public - just until the cold snap passes. I mean, this is a temporary Snuggie-induced emergency, people! I need my Snuggie!

Maybe I can wear one to work and scare all of the kids...?

Oh, wait. I did that...

(By the way, Snuggies are on sale at Kroger with your Kroger Plus Card right now - five dollars off! It's the gift worth giving, I tell ya!)

Things I'm Thankful For Right Now...

2010-11-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

It's Thanksgiving.

It's more than just some holiday pie-eatin', football watchin' throwdown.

It's more than a meal that signifies that the Christmas season is here.

It's a time to be thankful.

I've really been touched by the Thanksgiving posts my friends have put on Facebook. So, in the same kind of spirit, I'm adding a list of things I am thankful for. Some of these things may sound superficial (see the previous post on the camera if you're looking for more of that), but this list comes genuinely from my heart.

1) I'm thankful for my sweet family. I'm thankful for my gorgeous, crazy, into-everything-imaginable daughter. I'm thankful for her energy, her questions ("Uuk! Whatisthat!?"), and her ability to find happiness in so many facets of life. I'm thankful that I have a husband who offers to help me out (most of the time - hehe), and puts up with my crankiness. I'm thankful that he shaved his neck and doesn't look like Scary Joaquin Phoenix (as opposed to Normal Joaquin Phoenix, the one from "Walk the Line") anymore. I love my parents, sister, and in-laws so much, too. I am truly blessed with a wonderful family.

2) I'm thankful for my friends. I'm thankful that my best friends would do anything for me and that we have a friendship that surpasses conversation - we don't have to talk to "get" each other...it's a rare gift. I'm thankful for work friends that don't mind hearing me gripe. I'm also thankful that all of my friends (in general) laugh at my jokes. It's important to have people validate the fact that you are funny if you are attempting to be funny...heh.

3) I'm thankful that Dancing With the Stars is over and that I can put 2-3 hours a week back to good use.

4) I'm thankful for my kitchen. Especially at Thanksgiving. While I'm at it, I'm thankful for heavy cream and the fact that it just makes Thanksgiving awesome. I think I put it in every single thing I made this year.

5) I'm thankful for my job. Teaching children is an amazing responsibility. It doesn't pay what it should, but, dang it, I go to work feeling like I do something valuable. Oh, and I really do have the best boss in the world. I'm not just saying that...it's true.

6) I'm thankful in advance for those Zumba DVDs that I'm purchasing to combat the evils of the heavy cream (see #4).

7) I'm thankful for Starbucks. 'Nuff said. Caffeine is important when you're a full-time mama and a full-time professional.

8) I'm thankful that I'm able to be a part of the choir at my church. I'm thankful for the other sopranos who sing the part loudly so that I can mimic them. I'm thankful that I don't have to sing by myself at church. I'm thankful that I can go online and practice my part...even if I can't remember my part once I get online. I'm thankful that Amelia finally adjusted to church and Wee Keepers and loves going to see "the big tree" at church.

9) I'm thankful for books, warm cups of coffee on cold nights, and blankets to cuddle under on my couch. Those help make the winter more livable.

10) I'm thankful for faith, hope, and love. I'm thankful that the greatest of these is love - love embodied by a Savior who gave it all. My thankfulness is nothing in comparison to His goodness.

My Grown-Up Christmas List

2010-11-24T19:37:00.000-08:00

My grown-up Christmas list is a little more selfish than the one Vanessa Williams sang about.

I want a camera. A good one. One that doesn't take blurry pictures of my child.

My current camera is okay. It takes decent pictures if the desired object being photographed is 100% still.

Amelia, as we all know, is never 100% still.

So, this camera is on my Christmas list:

It's a Nikon D3000. I asked my mother and my father to go in on it - Dad found a good deal and got it on sale. This camera is really all I've asked for (because, let's be honest - isn't this enough)? It is supposed to be a good camera for a camera-illiterate amateur like me.

At the end of my life, all I will have to remember my life by will be the memories I make, the pictures I take, and the words I write.

I want my pictures to be good ones.

Life is too short for blurry pictures.

http://www.nikonusa.com/Nikon-Products/Product/Digital-SLR-Cameras/25462/D3000.html

Just A Regular Saturday

2010-11-24T19:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, on Saturday mornings, I'll make Amelia and me some yummy homemade banana nut muffins, courtesy of a Tyler Florence recipe.

A few weeks ago, we were having our regular banana nut muffin Saturday...

Until I heard the noise.

Yup, it was THAT NOISE.

I groaned, and looked outside.

I saw this:

Yup, the buzzards. THOSE STUPID BUZZARDS made their return.

I called my mother-in-law.

"Hey, will you look outside and tell me how many buzzards you see on our roof?"

I heard her sigh in disgust. This is a little tradition that the Farr Families endured since the buzzards decided to come and hang out on the Farr roofs over a year ago. My mother-in-law and I call each other to do a "buzzard count."

"Oh, my Lord, those stupid buzzards! I thought they were gone! Why can't Tommy be here to take care of them!? Let me see...um...well, you've got twelve buzzards."

Yes, we had 12 buzzards. That isn't even close to the record number. We've had over 20 on our roof before.

"You should tell Jeremy to deal with the buzzards," my mother-in-law says. We both knew she was joking. Jeremy doesn't do guns. She lamented (once again) the fact that my father-in-law wasn't around. He is usually the Buzzard Remover around these parts.

Soon, however, the reinforcement came in. A reinforcement just as capable as my father-in-law.

His name?


Jerm is pretending to be manly and help out.

Poppa.

That's right. All sorts of Poppas out there have the ability to remove buzzards from roofs. It's an ability given to anyone who lived through the World War II era. Poppas kill snakes, fix engines, solve plumbing problems, plant gardens, wear cute hats that are bigger than their heads, and, dang it, they TAKE CARE OF BUZZARDS LIKE REAL MEN!

Ahem...

Poppa stepped out of his little pickup truck (with a gun bigger than he is) to handle our situation.

Within a few minutes, our buzzards were gone.

Yup, that's the power of a Poppa.

And they can do all of these things while still being as cute as a button.

(No buzzards were harmed in the removal of buzzards from the Farr Home. No laws were broken. Thank you.)

By the way, while all of this buzzard ruckus was going on with Poppa, Amelia and I enjoyed our muffins. I mean, what else can a lady, a baby, and six banana nut muffins do to prevent an onslaught of buzzards? We stayed in the house!

Singing in Skinny Jeans

2010-10-31T13:29:00.000-07:00

I am a new member of my choir at church. I haven't been a choir since the 10th grade, and it shows in my singing. I don't remember the first thing about reading music (I wasn't so great at that, anyway). I'm pretty terrible.

I am aware that I'm not really a singer. I can carry a tune, but I'm a mimicker - a repeater, if you will. That has always been more of a talent of mine than singing. I can hear a sound and repeat it back...hence my random impressions of people (characters from cartoons, Roma Downey from Touched by an Angel, my high school principal, etc).

My mockingbird skills aren't getting me very far. Anyone can sing in the shower, in the car, or to their little ones. But singing on a stage while someone else sings the "other" part in your ear presents a challenge for the musically illiterate (like myself).

Most choirs usually involve people who can read a scant bit of music. Unfortunately, I've been able to find more grammatical errors in my music than musical notes that I recognize. Maybe this is why I like to write...writing doesn't involve appearances or ambiguity. Sentences are either correct or incorrect. Words are what they are...and I find comfort in their intrinsic collaborations.

And, while I'm at it - do you know what isn't comfortable? Skinny jeans.

I really want a new pair of cute boots. Unfortunately, wearing a cute pair of boots would also require me to wear them with skinny jeans.

I loathe skinny jeans. Why? Because I have hips. Hips and skinny jeans don't really go together - hips cancel out the whole "skinny" aspect of a skinny jean. I've tried on a couple of pair of skinny jeans, and I just look like a top that's about to start spinning.

Yet, I see all of these girls wearing skinny jeans and boots - and they look really cute. I just really don't think I can pull that look off. I would say that I'm too old, but the Pioneer Woman (who is older than I am) tucks her jeans in her boots all of the time and she looks downright adorable.

Maybe there will be a day when I'll be able to sing my soprano part confidently in my skinny jeans and uber-cool Steve Madden boots (because I heart Steve Madden).

Until then, I'll wear my boot-cut jeans and try to listen a little better to music around me.

The Book Club

2010-10-30T12:30:00.000-07:00

I started a Jane Austen Book Club a few months ago. I started it for many reasons.

1) I really am that dorky. 2) I haven't read all of Jane's books, and I felt like I needed to read them. 3) I wanted people to come to my house and hang out. (I felt like one of the "callings" on my life when God blessed me with my house was to SHARE my house. When I lived in my condo it was very difficult to have people over, so I feel blessed to have the space to share with others.) 4) Have I mentioned how I really LOVE Jane Austen? This was a way to share her books, the movies based on her books, and gain insight from other people. 5) I. Like. Food.

Surprisingly, 18 people signed up to read Jane's six novels - something that may be considered torture to some!

Our first meeting was over Sense and Sensibility. Some people had other obligations and couldn't show up, but I think everyone who came had a lot of fun. We ate some really yummy food (the theme for this meeting was "breakfast"), had a discussion over the book (among other things), and watched the 2008 BBC version of the movie.

Oh, Colonel Brandon. Sigh.

I thought Sense and Sensibility was an easier read than some of the others...but I think I was wrong according to the feedback I received. Oh well, I guess I know ~~for next time~~.

My REAL best friend Kathi (who is cooler than my celebrity BFF...because...you know...she's real...) donated her book wreath to the festivities, giggled a little bit when she surrendered it, and told us to have fun. The book wreath totally set the scene for the evening.

Our next reading is over Northanger Abbey, and our next meeting will be in January. Northanger Abbey is already proving to be an easier read than Sense and Sensibility...now I feel bad. You are more than welcome to pick up a copy (or browse through some SparkNotes) and come and join us! :)

My Pretend BFF.

2010-10-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

She's not really my bestie. But if she was, we'd have some Starbucks together, talk about theology, and I'd ask her if I could afford any of her clothing choices.

I heart her. I mean, I know this fact has already been established on this blog, but I thought I would say it again.

I just downloaded her new album, and it totally made me cry. What kind of singer writes lyrics like,

"Who's at fault is not important/
Good intentions lie dormant/
And we're all to blame"

I mean, who writes stuff like that anymore!? Who writes with a conscience -- a soul?

Definitely not John Mayer...just sayin'.

I totally dig music with a soul, and I'm so glad I stumbled upon the music of Brooke Fraser.

I'm going to be my pretend BFF's PR person give her a plug on my blog ...that three people read....hmmm.

Anyway, you might be surprised at all the songs she has written (that you sing at church...she also writes and sings for Hillsong United). You should totally check my pretend BFF out. :)

The Moon

2010-10-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

Amelia is obsessed with the moon.

The moon has been exceptionally bright lately - you can even see it in the afternoon, a glowing orb of wonderfulness in the sky.

Amelia recognizes it every single time. She points at it, and says, "Uuuhk! Uuuhk! Whatisit?" (That, translated, is, "Look! Look! What is that?")

I've been reading "Goodnight Moon" to her since she was a teeny tiny baby, so this may be why she gets so excited about it. She loves it when I talk like the little bunny and tell all of the things in the room good night (like mush...which is what I assume that little bunny is doing -- "Goodnight Moon" is a little odd).

The other day, I got a video of her looking look at the moon. She was so excited. She literally pushed Jeremy out of the way to get to the door.

She's growing up so much. She's picking up new words and phrases all of the time, and they usually incorporate little hand gestures. She loves to tell people, "HI!" when she sees them and she holds her hand up high.

She's starting to understand boundaries a little bit better - she's starting to understand what "no" means, which does help a lot when I'm trying to keep her from falling off the bed, jumping in a drawer full of razors, or diving head first into a bathtub of water.

She made it through the nursery last Wednesday night without crying the whole time. I felt like that was a true breakthrough. She needs to go, even if she hates it. Social interaction is important.

I let her run around barefoot in a onesie last summer. So now, of course, shoes, socks, and pants are a battle. I'll have to keep working at it.

The whole world stops when "Yo Gabba Gabba" comes on. I totally ate my words. She watches it and LOVES it. I'm pretty sure she would trade me and Jeremy for that scrawny DJ Lance any day of the week.

I'm amazed at how fast she's growing up, and how amazing (crazy, wild, loud, wonderful) she is.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Tooth

2010-10-05T20:04:00.000-07:00

"Grr!"

"Would you like me to to ahead and pull this tooth for you?"

It sounded so simple.

My dentist presented this option to me like the cafeteria ladies present options in the lunchroom. (Life is so much easier when one has to decide between chicken nuggets or pizza.)

Unfortunately, this wasn't about chocolate or strawberry milk.

This was about THE TOOTH. My icky, humongous, wisdom tooth on my bottom left side.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Tooth.

I named said tooth several years ago, when it was coming in and causing chaos and disorder in my mouth. I said I would take it out then.

I didn't.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Tooth kept on a-comin'. It made a little pup tent inside my mouth - it leaned against my other molar for dear life. Flossing between my molar (2nd molar...? Do they have names?) and TMNT was pure torture.

Finally, I called the dentist.

This was a big step for me. I have a mouth full of veneers, you see. Veneers are no fun. Think of that time you puked on the school bus...wait....that wasn't you...think of that time you danced to Paula Abdul in front of your whole elementary....crap...still not you...

Think about something REALLY BAD. Then, compare that experience to getting veneers. I got veneers when I was fourteen. I remember the sheer misery of the occasion. I remember that it snowed outside the day I got them, that I got to be out of school, and that I didn't care. I just wanted to die. I decided then and there: dentist = pain.

Again, for me to call the dentist - well, it's a big deal. I called to have the tooth looked at (because, foolishly, I believed that I would need some type of anesthesia and oral surgery...yesterday I also believed that the Fraternal Order of Police called me to get my debit card number...but that's another story entirely). I just planned on a consultation.

So, when the dentist asked me if I wanted TMNT removed, I thought that sounded grand. I thought, "right now? No more tooth? Sounds good!"

I succumbed with little persuasion.

Within a few minutes, a barrage of shots headed toward my mouth like a bunch of Patriot Missiles that had finally found Osama Bin Laden. It was that fast.

After being numb for a few minutes, the dentist (who is a very nice fellow, I will concede) yanked out my tooth. I think he used some sort of plier-esque contraption.

I felt okay. TNMT was gone, at least. I was pretty happy about the cost - sixty-six dollars!

The dentist called me the evening of the tooth removal to check on me. I was doped up like a geek, watching "Dancing With the Stars" and laughing at the stupidity while he spoke.

"That's the drugs talkin'," he said.

(He obviously doesn't encounter me on a regular basis.)

The foolishness of my decision didn't affect me until the next day. I woke up the morning after the tooth removal feeling a little groggy, but okay. I got into my car and thought, "I can do this."

By the time I got to school, I felt like I was going to die.

By the time my Dad got to school to pick me up, I was almost certain of my upcoming death.

By the time I puked near my alma mater (hearkening memories of the aforementioned school bus incident) I knew it for sure. Yup, I was going to die.

I spent the next several days in a blur of medication, torture, and yuck. Apparently, pain medicine and I do not jee-ha. (How in the world does House do it?) I got a dry socket. I felt dizzy and nauseous often. Sickness, medicine, and a liquid diet will kill a healthy appetite like mine. I dropped weight (don't worry, I'll gain it back...give me a few lattes) and became quiet puny. I'm pretty sure my students thought I was insane.

It's been over a week, and I'm just now starting to feel normal creeping back into my bones.

All because of a tooth.

Just one stupid, pesky tooth.

What makes this even more depressing is that my wisdom tooth on the other side is coming in sideways. TMNT's brother, Shredder, will haunt me later. I'll have to have Shredder pulled...probably sooner than later.

The moral of the story? Whenever the dentist asks you something, just remember it isn't as easy as you may think. We all do this in our various professions/life situations ("Kids, it's just a test, it's not that bad..." or "Amelia, carrots are yummy!") Things are different on the "other side."

Think with clarity. Be the Nancy Reagan of your mouth. Just say no. NO! No, I say!,

But seriously...if a decision deals with tooth removal, you may want to think about being laid up in bed cryin' for a week. I may be a wimp, but wimps still have to go to work and take care of their babies, and that can get tricky in the midst of wimpiness.

Decisions are important, yo. Make them carefully.

(Oh, and if someone calls saying they're from the Fraternal Order of Police, don't believe them. And don't give them your debit card number. It's a hassle to cancel that booger.)

A Tribute

2010-09-22T17:41:00.000-07:00

This year, I teamed up with a friend of mine at school to be the Relay for Life/American Cancer Society cheerleader/beggar/money taker-upper.

Today, I began to think about those I loved who have been and are affected by cancer. I jotted down a few lines in my head (yes, I write in my head before I write on paper), wrote my thoughts down in an e-mail, and sent it to the faculty at school.

My friend Kati has really been challenging her friends to blog concerning childhood cancer - I don't have the depth of experience to blog in the way I probably should, and some of the details were and are hazy, but this is what I wrote. It's a tribute to her, as well as to a dear friend of mine who lost her battle with cancer over ten years ago.

I couldn't help but write about the polarities and parallels that tie these two incredible women together.

Why I give…

It was just a hurt ankle.

I was told that the day she sat in the stands, cheering us on during our performances.

We laughed at her crutches, we wished her well, and we hoped to see her out with us again, twirling her flag and smiling.

She always smiled.

Her senior year, she was the co-captain of the colorguard. Our song set that year was from the band Chicago, and the song “Make Me Smile” always got her going. She bounced her flag during the movements, laughing and smiling.

Soon after the incident with her ankle, it was discovered that my friend, Tiffany Black, had a rare form of bone cancer called Ewing’s Sarcoma.

Tiffany missed a lot of school due to her treatments. Her hair fell out, and she got a wig. When most seniors worried about drama, college, athletics, and the rigors of high school, my friend fought for her very survival. Her peers voted her the prom queen in May, but she was on crutches at that point because of the cancer attacking her body. She went to New York City with the band – but in a wheelchair.

Around her birthday in August, she was given a jet ski by a charitable organization. She only got to ride it for a short amount of time.

With the change of the seasons that year, life slowly faded from my beloved friend. In December, my friend lost her fight with cancer. I put a picture from our competition (with her smiling face, holding a trophy) in her casket.

She was 18 years old.

She is why I give.

She has one leg, and she makes jokes about it.

When people told her that she couldn’t, she did.

She’s my hero.

Her name is Kati, and I loved her the moment I met her.

She joined my sorority, and became my “Little Sister,” but I was the younger one – the one who could learn from this old soul.

She was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma at the age of eight. She went to Camp Sunshine and made friends. Those friendships supplied her heart with vigor and gave lifeblood to her soul.

But some of her friends didn’t make it. She experienced a childhood fraught with many heartaches .

The chemo was rough on her. Her heart was forever damaged. The doctors told her that she wouldn’t have children.

Today, she holds her daughter Kennedy in her arms every night, a living example of defied odds.

Kati isn’t ashamed of her condition. It means she made it – it means she survived. When children point and ask, she explains her condition in ways they can understand. She straps her baby in her carrier, grabs her crutches, and plows through life with a determination that I can only envy.

She is why I give.

Earth's Tilt

2010-09-09T18:19:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be honest here.

I'm a summer girl. I always have been.

I love the heat. I love the freedom. I love the quiet days. I love going to the beach.

But now that I'm a mother, things are becoming a little more complicated.

The heat is oppressive to a baby.

I don't really have a lot of freedom anymore. Okay, I have no freedom.

My summer days really weren't quiet. They were noisy, filled with the sounds of little feet, Yo Gabba Gabba, and the cries (good and bad) from my little one.

The last time I saw a beach was before I was pregnant.

Summer is starting to take on a whole new meaning, and I'm very ready for fall. I'm longing for cooler weather, a warm cup of coffee, pleasant time outside, and the upcoming holidays. And while I dread the time change, the super cold, and closed-toed shoes and socks (some things cannot be changed, you see), I'm still ready.

Sometimes a happy baby is a freedom of its own, and Amelia will be a much happier baby when she can enjoy the nice weather outside.

Yes. Yes, it's time.

The Earth's tilt is beginning to change. I wake up each morning and notice that my outside looks a little different, and the sun has moved from its summer position. Fall is creeping in, whether I want it or not.

To wake up and see the world a little differently is often a neglected opportunity - one I hope I do not forsake.

"I close my eyes to surrender to sleep - knowing deep within, my soul's leaves are changing colors."
- Feeling Autumn, written in September 2001.

She's One. No, Really.

2010-08-23T19:05:00.000-07:00

Amelia is one.

You know? One? Not a baby anymore, but a toddler?

Where did my time go?

She's one. As in, "I'm going to get into everything humanly imaginable as soon as I possibly can" kind of one.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am exhausted. The beginning of school + Amelia's first birthday = really, really drained.

Despite my exhaustion, it paid off. Jeremy and I pulled off two great birthday parties to celebrate Amelia's birthday this year. One was on her actual birthday. Jeremy and I cooked pizza for our immediate family and they came over to enjoy the birthday girl. We had a blast that evening - and Amelia had more fun than anyone. I've never seen a baby so happy to have a birthday. She laughed, clapped, and ate her little cake like a champ. She loved it when all of her family stood around and sang to her. She thought that was just fabulous.

Then, she had a party with all of her friends (and family members, too). It was a fun day! Amelia had a remarkable time blowing bubbles, playing with chalk, and seeing all of her friends. She loves attention (naturally), so it made her day again when everyone sang to her. The party was so much fun, but very, very crazy!

I only have myself to blame for the craziness. I'm the one who thought it would be a good idea to have the kids make their own goody baskets using big buckets of candy. Yeah, that was me. Poor Emery and Graham probably ate more candy in that one day than they had ever eaten before.


The infamous buckets!

I'm so blessed with such a precious baby girl. She's adventurous, rambunctious, and full of life - and I wouldn't have my girl any other way. We've come a long way from our NICU days a year ago. God is good.

Happy Girl!

Farr Family News

2010-08-23T18:57:00.000-07:00

There's been a lot going on in the Farr Family that I really haven't got to chat much about. The past month or so has really been quite a busy blur.

First of all, I finally have a wonderful new sister-in-law, Heather. She and Jeremy's brother, Lija, dated for years and tied the knot on a beautiful day in July. It was a great wedding and a happy day for everyone.

I love sisters. I have one, so --- ya know, they're awesome. Everyone should have a sister.

Jeremy and I also have new little nephew, Cooper! Jeremy's sister Heather (do not get confused - this is another Heather) welcomed him about 16 days after the wedding. Cooper is such a little doll and a sweet blessing. I know Amelia will really grow up very close to him - I can't wait until they are old enough to play together and love one another.

July was really a busy month for the Farrs! I really can't wait for this fall. Football season, cooler weather, and a little bit of relaxation will be a nice change for all of us. :)

What's My Age Again?

2010-07-26T11:31:00.000-07:00

(On an off note, I really like using song titles as blog titles...I don't have to think as much...heh.)

I've always called Amelia my "Intrepid Girl."

Her name, accurately enough, means "industrious."

It suits her.

She's always been, well, industrious. In the NICU, I saw her eyes light up at the glimpses she gleaned from her little window. I could just tell that my baby girl was going to love the outside.

When she was three weeks old, she was sitting in her Bumbo seat. She couldn't sit for long periods of time, but the fact that she sat up told me what I knew from the beginning: this girl wants to MOVE.

Amelia started crawling at around the six-month mark, and at nine months, she took her first steps.

Now, before her first birthday, she's started to RUN. She loves to be outside. She throws her hands up, says "aaaaaaayyyyy!" (like the Fonz...heh heh) and literally runs. She's into absolutely everything now. Yesterday when "Pammy" kept Amelia, Pammy turned around to discover that Amelia scaled a chair and completely conquered the coffee table. Colton was never this much trouble.

Honestly, none of this surprises me. I've heard stories about me as a baby. I remember D'Anna as a baby. We were rambunctious. I think my mother used to go into corners in cry when we took naps. I mean, why do you people think I waited so long to have a baby? I knew!

So, she's gone from this...

(So little!)

To this...

And...here we go!

Old School

2010-07-21T18:30:00.000-07:00

I had to take a long drive the other day that involved me, my car, and some mountain views.

Naturally, that car ride took me back to my college days, when I was younger (obviously), wilder (okay, not really), and free (yes, yes I was). I did a lot of driving around in the mountains back in those days. It was required for some of my former, illustrious professions that paid fifty bucks a week.

I'll be honest. I can't drive worth a lick. I'm terrible - absolutely terrible - at it.

But I love it, especially when it involves spectacular views and time to think.

Sometimes, a Mama needs a moment that renews her, and this was my moment.

While driving, I listened to two of my old school Caedmon's Call albums, their independent "My Calm//Your Storm," and their pinnacle (sorry, Caedmon's Call, but it's true) album "40 Acres," which may be my favorite record...ever.

And as I listened to those songs, I thought about those days at Brenau in the ZTA House. I thought about Kathi and I as two scared freshmen. I thought about Kristi, and how I was in awe of her for being her own person. Of course, I also thought about how she used to rant and rave about marrying the dreamy-eyed, lyrically-savvy Bebo Norman. Sigh. I miss Bebo...ahem...

I thought about my friend Tracy and how much I missed confiding in her...and how much I missed her in general. I thought about crazy days with Kathi in the ZTA House when we danced on couches, spoke our own language, and acted foolish. I thought about Michele and how we walked around the streets of Athens, dreaming dreams and avoiding homework. I thought about summers away, a near-perfect childhood, and how much I learned during my coming-of-age years.

During that ride, I reminded myself that, "as I get older, life is getting harder." So many of my friends (not necessarily those mentioned) had to endure and are still enduring the tragedies that life often brings.

So, for the brief span of a few Caedmon's Call songs, I remembered when life was a little bit easier...a little more simple...a little more carefree...for all of us. Complications are a part of life, and no one would change them, but I think it is also okay to remember the past with love and appreciation.

Sometimes we have to "walk the rocks to see the mountain view," and my prayer is that I'll try to walk with "grace my feet, and faith my eyes."

I've always thought...

2010-07-13T06:34:00.000-07:00

I've always thought that out of all of Jane Austen's characters, I most resembled Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice (by the way MLA people, there isn't an underline option on this blog, or I would underline the titles of my books...but I'm a Chicago Manual Style kind of girl).

Elizabeth is a somewhat-sarcastic, borderline impertinent, thoroughly stubborn woman who loves to make snap judgments, read books, laugh at life situations, and observe the world around her. That describes me well.

Lately, however, I'm thinking I might be more like Emma Woodhouse from Austen's Emma.

Emma and Elizabeth share many qualities. They are both stubborn, unwilling to settle for marriage unless it involves love, and full of pride (in their own ways). Emma has a penchant for matchmaking, though...something she and I share.

I don't set people up often, but I've had two very successful cases. One couple I set up got married several years ago, and the other...well, they got engaged last weekend! (I'm not going to name names because I'm not sure if they want their names called out on this blog that three people read.)

Needless to say, when I heard the news, I was pretty excited for my dear friend. And, then, I had an Emma Woodhouse thought: "who will be next to benefit from my help?"

That was a dangerous thought to think. For anyone who has ever read Emma or watched the story (the BBC just came out with a fabulous version of it) knows that Emma's "help" is often unwarranted and disastrous.

Yup, that does sound like me.

I'd better stop while I'm ahead...but I have ever really stopped? Really?

And she says, "Baby, it's 3 a.m., I must be lonely."

2010-07-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

Amelia woke up at 2:30ish this morning.

Like, wide awake. Chatty. Talkative. Ready to go.

Did she not notice the dark outside?

I tried to tell her, "Go to sleep! It's dark! Little girls have to go seep seep (my term for sleep) when it's dark!"

She just looked back and said, "Aroo?"

I don't know what "aroo" means. I assume that it's some sort of version of "who, me?" Maybe it's something way meaner...something I cannot repeat on this blog.

I find it funny that she already talks back to me, even as a baby.

I finally got her to sleep around 4:00.

I'm not used to this. Amelia has slept through the night since she was about nine weeks old. She's had a few issues here and there, but never like this. She has spoiled me rotten, this formerly-sleeping child of mine.

I think I finally crashed at 5:30.

I made her wake up early this morning, just to make sure she doesn't become a little nocturnal baby. She wasn't even grouchy.

Sleep is starting to become a non-issue for her. Who needs sleep when you can PLAY??

I'm starting to think Amelia might be an only child.

A Poem

2010-07-04T20:10:00.000-07:00

Thumbnail

Tonight, while I looked at
The velvet overlay of stars,
I spied the sliver of a crescent moon.
It was like the thumbnail of God
Pressed against the pulse of this world

And while that thought brought comfort,
The next brought on my pragmatism:

"Nah, He's probably bigger than that."

- DCF '10

Time and Space

2010-06-23T12:57:00.000-07:00

"When time and space are through/I'll be found in You..."
- Brooke Fraser

I had to read an article in one of my master's degree history classes that dealt with the issue of time, space, and how the Industrial Revolution changed these concepts. It's a really thought-provoking concept, and one I try to share with my students when we discuss the Industrial Revolution (some of them kind of get it, but I basically want to expose them to some higher-level thinking).

It is fairly obvious that time and space have changed over time. The invention of the car undoubtedly made it easier to travel and get to places. The invention of the airplane made international travel more available and made foreign places more tangible. The invention of the computer (coupled with the internet) and telephone made communication all over the world possible.

Communication, publication, and travel were a totally different concept 200 years ago, when ten miles away seemed far, and Asia might has well have been on another planet. Read a Jane Austen novel, and you'll understand that it took days upon days to travel miles, that simple things like indoor plumbing did not exist, and that letters took time to reach people. (Bear with me, I'm getting to my point.)

The time it took to get to places in the past - well, it was a long time. Gainesville seems like a blink away from me now, but it must have seemed far away to Jeremy's ancestors who lived in the house next door to us. Space changes, too. Atlanta isn't that far away from me -and really, not many places are that far away from me in the continental United States when using a plane. Jeremy and I got to Italy in nine hours. Years ago, Gainesville was at least an hour away, Atlanta was a day away, and Italy probably seemed a lifetime away. With technology, time and space changed.

Because of the advantages of technology, I have a lot more time. I don't have to spend my time scrubbing clothes, washing dishes by hand, penning hand-written updates to family members. I don't have to worry about my garden, where my next meal is going to come from, or where to get the supplies to take care of my child.

I also have the advantage of space. I could hop on a plane and be just about anywhere in a 24-hour time span. The world is more interconnected and accessible now.

I have time. I have the advantage of space.

So, here's my point: what am I doing about it?

I don't have to endure the rigorous chores of the past, so what am I doing to compensate for my extra time? Am I using my time in an honorable way? Am I taking advantage of the fact that I could help others in faraway lands via the click of my computer mouse or through the purchase of a plane ticket?

I have the ability to use time and space to further goodness and God's greater purpose.

My prayer is that I'll be able to remember this and not be wasteful.

Six

2010-06-21T06:58:00.000-07:00

Jeremy and I have been married for six years!

That's a long time.

I mean, it's not fifty years long, but it's a long time for someone who has only lived for 30 years.

Let me be clear: I am very, very blessed to have Jeremy in my life. I joke about him, I whine to him, I pick on him, and I am not nearly the wife I should be, and yet he endures all of my faults with such forbearance. When I told him I was writing "Da Beard," he laughed and helped give me lines to write. THAT'S my husband. He's funny, smart, patient, and kind. He isn't perfect, but neither am I.

Personally, I think we're getting better with age.

Da Beard

2010-06-15T11:17:00.000-07:00

"Is it back?"

Jeremy asks me this question all of the time.

I know what he is talking about. I choose to ignore him.

Okay, I don't ignore him. Ignoring Jeremy is like ignoring a) sirens b) that incessant buzzing from vuvuzelas that goes on during World Cup games or c) that big zit that just WON'T GO AWAY. Jeremy loves to push buttons. Ignoring him only makes him worse.

(Yeah, I said "zit." I'm pretty sure that just dropped the maturity level of this blog down a few notches.)

Anyway, Jeremy asks me "is it back?" all of the time.

"Is what back?" I eventually answer back, playing along.

"DA BEAAARD!" He says, and then he rubs his scratchy face/neck/whole head.

Jeremy always grows a beard during the summer. I would like to tell you that it is his way of rebelling against those stringent teacher dress codes, but any dress code that allows Nike Shox is probably not as ferocious as one thinks.

I guess he grows a beard because he can. It's summer. Jeremy's thinking is a little catawampus. For Jeremy, long-sleeved t-shirts and beards in the summer make sense.

This year, the beard is a little chaotic. The beard has taken on a life of its own. It is much, much longer than any beard I've ever seen on him, and we've been together for almost eight years. It's starting to curl on the ends. Seriously, this beard is out of control.

I found it ordering Domino's one day and had to stop it before another stinky pepperoni pizza entered our home (nothing against Domino's - their pizzas are just garlicky). Amelia cried the other day when the beard tried to give her a kiss. The beard even told me the other day that it's a little redundant to have Netflix AND the movie channels - we needed to choose one to save a little money.

All joking aside...this beard is fierce. And I don't mean "fierce" in a good way.

This beard, in addition to Jeremy's legendary bandana/do-rag, and his newly cracked tooth make him look a little like Willie Nelson. He looks like Jeremiah Johnson if Jeremiah Johnson decided to do P90X. He looks like...well, you get the picture. If not, here's a real picture for proof:

So, I'm asking for your help. If you're one of the three people reading this blog, will you support my cause? Please tell Jeremy he needs to shave. Puh-lease.

He's scaring innocent children. Do it for them.

Scary.

Random Thoughts, Part III

2010-06-05T06:09:00.000-07:00

...or is it part IV? (Is this blog really prestigious enough to use Roman numerals? Hmmm.)

1. Do you ever feel bad buying clothes from Forever 21? I mean, you know that cute top should probably cost more than $13.80. Do you ever feel like there's some ulterior-motive sketchiness involved with Forever 21? I mean, I like their stuff, I just hope some kid in Pakistan isn't getting paid 4 cents an hour to make it...
2. Do you know what I liked to eat as a child? Raw spaghetti. Isn't that gross? I also liked raw potatoes.

3. I am seriously considering voting for some dead old guy from Georgia's history to be governor in this next election...just because I can. Honestly, can either candidate can fulfill his promises? It would be seriously funny to type in "Eugene Talmadge," or "Zell Miller," or some other crap candidate on the ballot.

4. My friend and co-worker Jenny (who I'm pretty sure won't read this) is the only one who might giggle at #4. Sigh. All of that typing for naught...

5. Why is it that only older people can kill snakes? Jerm's mom found one in her garage today, and she called her dad (Jerm's Poppa) to come and kill it. He came over with his hoe killed it - no problem. When my sister found a snake in her room, she jumped on the bed and screamed. Then, Mom thought she could kill the snake, but she couldn't do it. Mom, D'Anna and I just stood on top of D'Anna's bed and screamed like scared little girls. Mom called Granny. Granny came over with her hoe, looked at the tiny snake, and said, "really? Is this it?" Compared to the Great Depression, maybe snakes aren't so bad. I wish I had the unabashed fearlessness of snakes that the older folks have. The only thing funny about snakes is that they were once on a plane with Samuel L. Jackson.

6. Something about an evening like this one makes me think about VBS. And cookies and Kool-Aid. Felt pictures of Moses. I love it.

7. Amelia can blow kisses now and say "bottle." She blows her kisses backward, with the front of her hand to her mouth. When she says, "bottle," it is really more like, "bahh-uhhhl." It sounds like she's a Cockney Brit. I know that this is not technically a random thought --- but I had to mention how stinkin' cute my kid is.

8. I would rather go flying head first into a whole pile of McRibs than to hear Dennis Miller utter anything. He has, quite possibly, the most annoying voice on earth. McRibs...ugh. They make me shudder. But Dennis Miller...well, he makes me shudder more. (And I mention his name because Jeremy has been watching countless hours of his stand-up...ugh...shoot me now!)

9. What's so American about American cheese? Is this really the cheese we have chosen to represent our country? I mean...aren't there some excellent other decent American cheeses out there that could have the name "American?" What about good ol' cheddar? I'm saddened that the orange-ish, individually wrapped substance is the best America has to offer. No wonder the French sniff at us. (And I eat American cheese, by the way. I eat all cheese. But it is by far my least favorite...I guess I'm a cheese snob?)

10. Did anyone else out there read the Sweet Pickles books? Yeah. Those were awesome. Mentioning those also makes me think of that show Today's Special on Nickelodeon, where the mannequin-guy in a store turns into a person and dances around the store. Don't ask me why those correlate in my head.

11. Whoever invented the fly flap should be awarded a special crown in heaven. Is it just me, or are the flies insane this year?

12. I would like to ride in a DeLorean - at least once. Imagine what kind of flux-capacitating fun I could have! There's something about the DeLorean - the "80s" and "the future" all in one car. Ahhh.

This is Just Wrong

2010-05-27T06:23:00.000-07:00

I like Michael Buble. Jeremy bought me his new cd at Christmas (he thought it was his Christmas cd, but oh, well) and I've been listening to it lately.

While I like most of the cd, I've decided that there's something that a man from Canada should never do.

He sings a version of Georgia on My Mind that is criminal. And I don't mean that in a good way.

Do you hear that??! Michael Buble can't say "Georgia" right! It isn't Ge-yah-guh. It's GEYOUR-GUH. Why didn't get get a dialect coach to help him with the pronunciation of our state? Has he even been to Georgia? Has he even talked to someone from the South?

Maybe he's talking about the former Soviet Republic of Georgia? I've never been there, but I would think that version of "Georgia" might involve a reference to borscht.

I digress...

When Ray Charles sang the song (which, yes, I own that it was originally written for a girl named "Georgia"), he was able to evoke memories of my home.

Maybe next year, the Georgia General Assembly could (take a break from axing education dollars and) write a bill that proclaims, "only people from the South should be allowed to sing our state song." I think that would help matters.

Don't ya think?

When in Gainesville...

2010-05-12T18:20:00.000-07:00

Every town has rules.

You know, the rules you need to follow to get around? There are definitely a few rules you need to abide by to get around in my hometown of Gainesville (G-Funk, Gainesvegas, etc).

I think a few Gainesvillians have forgotten these rules. In the past week, I've had to honk my horn and say a few not-so-nice things to people.

So, I'm going to remind the three people that read my blog of a few basic, simple rules - a little Gainesville etiquette, if you will. If you've never been to Gainesville, keep this Code of Gainesville on hand if you ever come and visit us.

1. Don't turn left on Green Street. Ever. I don't care if it's 4:28 on April 15th and you have to get your taxes to the post office - you don't turn left on Green Street!

2. Speaking of Green Street, you do not harass the hundreds of runners who come barreling down the sidewalk as you pass them in your cars. Hey, who cares if runners choose the most polluted street in American History? It's their smog inhalation, not yours.

3. Don't try to open a Mexican restaurant in Gainesville. It's not going to work. El Sombrero has a choke-hold on this town. While I'm at it, your barbeque better be fabulous if you want the locals to choose it over Johnny's and Smokehouse.

4. When you get to the end of Green Street heading south towards town, make sure you are in the correct lane. Don't let that big tree/bush with all the Christmas lights distract you. If you are in the wrong lane when that little green arrow lights up, and you are planning to go left instead of right - well, the locals are going to kill you.

5. Longstreet is good. It does not, however, require you to IMPEDE TRAFFIC to get a BISCUIT. If you sit in the right lane trying to turn in to Longstreet between 7-8 am for more than ten seconds, you are going to have the wrath of Gainesville come down upon you! Your need from a biscuit cannot make people late for work! (This may drive me crazier than anything else!)

6. If you want to start up your own restaurant, it would probably not be a good idea to not start it in the old Rio Bravo/Up the Creek/Smoky Bones/Sweetfire Grill location. It's jinxed.

7. Don't go to Wal-Mart. Ever. Go to Dawsonville, Oakwood, Dahlonega, Cumming - anywhere but the Gainesville Wal-Mart. Only go to the Gainesville Wally World in the case of an extreme emergency.

8. There is a shortcut to get to anywhere in Gainesville. You just have to learn how to work the roads.

9. If you see a funeral procession, stop. It's still important to us.

(The opinions in this article represent the author alone and do not represent the official opinion of the city of Gainesville, GA.)

It's Important

2010-05-05T03:19:00.001-07:00

This week is teacher appreciation week.

Tell a teacher you care. It matters.

Hidden Gem

2010-04-28T18:15:00.000-07:00

I have XM/Sirius satellite radio, and I am totally in love with it.

Where else could you hear the top hits of the 40s? You can listen to almost anything on satellite, with very few interruptions.

I have many favorite stations, but one of them that I've recently found is called "Praise." It's description says, "urban contemporary gospel music."

Think the end of Diary of a Mad Black Woman, when they sing, "Father, Can You Hear Me?"

Oh yeah - I went "movie scene" on ya!

"Praise" is such a little treasure. I've always wanted to go to a church like the one in Diary. Hearing the songs on this station make me totally blissful.

Man, how could I have forgotten this scene when I made my list? What a scene of healing, forgiveness, and redemption. Wow.

Weird.

2010-04-27T18:09:00.000-07:00

Weird. It's just weird. Period.

I just don't think I can let Amelia watch it.

Who comes up with this cracked-out crud?

A Letter to My State Representatives....

2010-04-27T18:05:00.001-07:00

Dear Senate Representative Hawkins and House Representative Collins:

The last time I wrote a letter to an official in government was in 1991. In 5th grade, I asked Zell Miller to attend my elementary school’s chicken pie supper. Therefore, you should ascertain that for me to write you this letter shows that I am a fairly concerned person.

I am a teacher who is very concerned about education in the state of Georgia.

Recently, teachers received many morale-crushing blows. We dealt and continue to deal with furloughs and pay cuts. We have faced and continue to face reductions in our staffs at our schools as well as the reduction of our resources. Our class sizes will increase (yet again) next year.

We used to live in a society where teachers were respected for their profession and given respect in the classroom. Society has changed. There are stories that flood the ears of the public concerning cheating allegations, improper conduct, and many other negative things concerning teachers. These, naturally, add to the public perspective. It seems to be a harsh reality that teachers in Georgia are no longer as respected as they once were.

Despite all of these things, most teachers still go to work with good attitudes. Despite all of these things, many teachers still spend hundreds of their own dollars to offer their children snacks during testing and rewards for good behavior. Despite all of these things, most teachers still stay after school and work, go to student athletic events, and write notes of encouragement to students who are undergoing the rigors of testing. Despite all of these things, most of us will do more with less.

However, the bill on merit pay that the Georgia General Assembly has “snuck in” at the last minute might be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back for many teachers.

In theory, merit pay is a good idea. Teachers should be rewarded on their performance. It is in the schematics where one can get confused.

I teach 8th grade Georgia Studies. How, pray tell, does one objectively measure “progress” in this subject area? Does one compare students from 7th grade to 8th grade? That would be like comparing apples to oranges, because students in 7th grade social studies learn about Africa and Asia. Would one compare Georgia Studies students from last year to Georgia Studies students ones from this year? Again, this seems unfair. The instrument for progress is at the crux of this argument. How would the state measure progress in subject areas like physical education, health, family and consumer science, and technology?

There are other problems with the merit pay measure. My husband teaches 7th grade social studies. His students didn’t even receive scores last year, and the state is still tweaking his Georgia Performance Standards. Social studies CRCT tests in Georgia are akin to playing Trivial Pursuit. The Georgia Performance Standards in social studies are written in a way that simply “lists” people, places, and events – they are not based on the “big ideas” in social studies. If students are not taught the correct fact about a certain person, place, event – well, they are sunk. Should my students and I be punished because we did not know where Eugene Talmadge liked to eat barbeque (and I’m being factitious here)?

Not only are there curriculum problems, but No Child Left Behind has made students believe that science and social studies “do not matter.” A science teacher at my school was even told, “Miss, I’m not going to even try on the social studies test. It doesn’t count.” NCLB has given our children the false assumption that science and social studies are unimportant, and abating apathy has become a burden in many schools. In grades where there is no accountability or consequences for students who fail, teachers will struggle with the general apathy. As long as there is little to no accountability placed on students to perform, teachers will struggle beyond comprehension to deal with the apathy that has plagued schools.

And yet, while I type this, I know that accountability for students can go too far. I saw a prayer request going around for a 3rd grade boy who wanted to do well on his CRCT. He had terrible test anxiety. I saw a girl in my homeroom break down crying during the math test because she was so overwhelmed. Too much accountability can foster negative results. There has to be a balance in this state for students – enough accountability to dissuade students that the test “doesn’t matter” and yet enough to prevent scaring the life out of them. The same can be said for merit pay – scaring teachers will not foster the greatest results.

Again, in theory, merit pay is a good idea. In a perfect world, good teachers should be rewarded and bad teachers should be punished. It makes sense. All teachers could agree that there are terrible teachers out there. However, there are terrible doctors, lawyers, workers at Burger King, gas station attendants, etc. There are members of the General Assembly who chose to take a 40,000 per diem (the salary for many teachers in the state) this year. I’d say they might need a new profession.

Sneaking in a merit pay bill at the last minute is a slap in the face to many teachers. It is, quite simply, not what teachers need right now. Teachers have been put through enough this year – a year full of furloughs, slander, and pay cuts. Our morale has had about as much as it can tolerate. Most teachers have just finished several exhausting days of testing (and if you have never tried to keep a room full of 8th graders quiet for four hours, you should try it sometime – you would instantly approve our pay raises). Honestly, we are tired. Because, like you, most of us come to work every day with the objective of doing our best to help the state of Georgia.

As our advocate for our district, I’m asking you for help. Please allow the merit pay bill to die until it is discussed further. This is not the kind of measure that should be thrown in at the last minute, but should be discussed and debated to determine schematics and to determine if it is truly the best measurable objective to determine the quality and worth of a teacher.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Dana Cain Farr

I forgot a scene...

2010-04-11T06:37:00.000-07:00

I noticed that no one commented on my post about the movies.

Not surprised. I mean, I ain't the Pioneer Woman.

Oh, well. I don't mind talking to myself in cyberspace.

This movie scene is one I meant to include, and it's worth mentioning:

Last of the Mohicans has recently become a favorite of mine, ever since I started reading Sara Donati's Wilderness series. This ending of the movie is just completely stolen by Jodhi May, who plays Alice Munro (around the 4:30 point of the video clip).

Her father is dead, her love is dead, and she is taken by the evil Magua to be his new "wife." Throughout the movie, Alice is much weaker than Cora, her sister. She is still a child (Jodhi May was just a teenager when she portrayed Alice in this movie, by the way) in so many ways.

After Magua kills her love, Uncas, Alice starts teetering toward the edge of the cliff. Magua, his eyes softening for the only part of the movie, motions her back to him - but he has the blood of Uncas on his hands as he does so. When Alice looks at the camera, you no longer see the face of a girl, but a woman. Words just can't describe this scene. It's mesmerizing, gorgeous, and somewhat disturbing. I'm not an advocate of suicide, but I understand why Alice jumps (she actually just kind of falls off...). She feels trapped and knows that she can jump, or face a future of sexual torture, heartache, and possibly death. Cora's cry of grief just further marks the moment. Ugh. Seriously. The ending of this movie is just epic.

By the way, I used to think my mom and other ladies who thought Daniel Day-Lewis was so hot in this movie were crazy. But I get it now. I really do.

Salary

2010-04-09T19:30:00.000-07:00

Despite all of her teeth issues...

Despite her refusal to nap at times...

Despite her temper tantrums, her big ol' poopy diapers, and her setting her angel monitor off ten times at night...

I get this.

Snuggle time truly is priceless.

Scenes that Resonate

2010-04-05T13:04:00.000-07:00

Almost anyone who knows me knows that I have some definite favorite movies.

I'm the kind of person who can always read a book over and over again...or watch a movie over and over again. I watch reruns of the U.S. version of The Office almost every time they come on TBS (I heart The Office...I really should devote a whole blog to it). I like to catch the subtle stuff in the background the second (third...fourth...four thousandth) time around.

And while some movies may not be in my "favorite" list, they have scenes that I'll never forget..scenes that make me cringe...scenes that I adore. Those little slivers of film - those glimpses into life, real or imagined - make me simply think. These are the scenes that keep me up past my bedtime, because I would rather wait up than avoid seeing them.

So here, in no particular order (and because you care), are some of my all-time favorite movie scenes:

(Be aware - there are some "spoilers" in this list!)

1. The end of A League of Their Own, where the older female ballplayers are playing baseball on the field, has always stuck with me. It is so nostalgic...it makes me sad for reasons I can't explain, and makes me wish I was part of a time period that has long passed. It makes me think of youth, of a generation dying out, and of how life gets more difficult with age.

2. Solaris is weird, cerebral, and uncommonly slow. But, apart from this, it is haunting - it's the kind of movie that sucks my breath out and won't me go. I can't get it out of my head. It makes such a profound statement about relationships with others. The scene that grips me is the one where George Clooney's character Chris is discussing his dead wife, Rheya, at the end of the film. He is at a loss over the thought that he remembered her in the wrong way, and that the true Rheya may not be the one constructed in his memories. It's such a thought-provoking scene...to wonder if people are who I think they are. Ugh. This movie gets me every time. I think this is a movie everyone needs to see at least once...not because it's a "must-see," but because I'm selfish and want you to come over to my house and discuss what you think of the ending. It's that vague.

3. While I'm on Clooney, I have to say that his scene with J-Lo in Out of Sight where they're hanging out in the back trunk of her car is a killer scene. Who knew that the two of them would have so much chemistry? Who knew Jennifer Lopez could act?

4. I love the end of My Fair Lady. Something about the way Rex Harrison softens his face when he sings "I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face" turns me in to a big pile of mush. I love how Rex Harrison talks through the song and never really sings. I love the words to the song - the song was played at my wedding. The final scene is such a quirky end to such an epic movie, and yet it somehow works. While Henry Higgins may be saying, "Eliza, where the devil are my slippers?" what he really means is, "I love you...I'm so glad you came back to me." I love Rex Harrison in the movie...and in general. Love, love, love him.

5. Gene Kelly's dance while he's Singin' in the Rain is so jubilant and perfect. It's one of those scenes that transcends time. It actually makes me thankful that I was privileged enough to see it. The choreography is flawless. A love that makes one dance in the rain is a true love, indeed.

6. Tom Hanks's speech to Matt Damon in Saving Private Ryan is such a simple, tragic statement: "earn this." I cry buckets of tears every time I see that scene. I think of those who lost their lives fighting for our country. I think of my grandfather and his sacrifices. I think (again) of a generation that is slowly fading -- and what a great generation it is.

7. I won't go into the schematics of the end of Schindler's List, but the scene at the end that involves Liam Neeson's character, Oskar Schindler, as he is preparing to flee the Allies is amazing. The speech that he gives ("I could have done more!") is so poignant. Oh, what a scene...

8. I don't think this would be a Dana Blog without some Jane Austen thrown in there... so I will go ahead and say that while I do enjoy all of the Pride and Prejudice scenes that involve the handsome (sexy, drool-worthy) Mr. Darcy, the scene that sticks with me in the 2005 version is the one where Lizzy tells her father she is in love. Donald Sutherland should have gotten an Oscar nod for that scene alone. I get moved to tears every single time I watch Mr. Bennet tear up at the thought of his Lizzy, his prize, being truly in love.

I have some others ...I may post them later...feel free to comment and post some of your favorite movie scenes!

Evidence

2010-04-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

I've got one of the cutest little girls ever.

Don't believe me?

Well, look at this:

And this:

And...then...there's this:

Yup...it's hard to argue now, isn't it? :)

Last Week

2010-03-29T19:01:00.000-07:00

Last week was a big week for Amelia.

She learned to go from lying down to sitting. She learned to crawl. She learned to pull up to a standing position.

She cut one tooth and is cutting another. She got a cold last week (maybe as a result of the teeth - who knows?).

She woke up about seven or eight times a night for three or four nights in a row. Two nights last week, she woke up at three a.m - I mean, she was wide awake, sitting up, with a smile on her face. She's never done that before.

Yup, my normal, restful days are numbered. I was exhausted. I am exhausted.

I'm starting to think my sweet little Amelia is going to be an only child.

But then...then she'll smile, or laugh hysterically at the silliest thing, or give the cutest little wave, or clap (just one of her many new little talents), and I'm just smitten all over again.

Is it normal to have such a complicated relationship with one's child?

Mean Mama

2010-03-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

I tried to persuade Amelia to crawl.

It didn't work.

At some point, she just put her head down and screamed.

Poor little bit. :(