Royal Wedding Party

Good morning! Come on in!


Grab a tiara and a Royal Wedding Bingo card.


How about a spot of tea?


The food is ready.


Especially the yummy scones Kate made. (My Kate, not that Kate--she was a little busy this morning.)


We have cucumber sandwiches too.


I told you we'd be having a party, and party we did. At 4:30 this morning, 12 college girls descended on my house to watch "the wedding of the century" according to news reports.

Check out these girls' faces as Kate came walking down the aisle. I'll admit, she was a bit mesmerizing.


Here's Princess Abby. Isn't she cute?


All of these girls are adorable, and they had so much fun this morning dreaming of their own "weddings of the century." By the way, I told them they had to speak in a fake British accents and wear their tiaras all day today. I actually think a couple of them might just do that.


Finally the big moment arrived. Wills and Kate kiss on the balcony. How cute are they??!!


The girls swooned.


And then they fell asleep.

Your Royal Wedding Watchers Guide

Alright, Anglophiles. It’s game time.

This week is OUR Super Bowl week, and Friday is the Big Game.

Time to exercise your clicker finger. Time to bake scones. Time to pull out that old bridesmaid’s dress and wear it.

It’s Royal Wedding Week.

There’s just a bit of buzz about the Royal Wedding going on around here. Three girls live in our house. Are you kidding me?! We’re just a little bit excited.



We will be celebrating with a group of college girls (along with any high school or junior high students who might want to get up early) at 5:00 a.m. Tea, scones, and cucumber sandwiches are on the menu.

As a public courtesy, I thought I’d give you a few ideas to enhance your Royal Wedding week.



Websites
Of course, your RW stage central is the Official Website of the Royal Wedding. Here you’ll find pretty much everything you’ve ever wondered about the Royal family, its history, and their friends. You can even find a seating chart . . . just in case you’re wondering where to sit in Westminster Abbey.

Fox News also offers a Royal Wedding page on their website, complete with the guest list and plenty of videos.

And then there’s the BBC. The BBC website offers love stories, a map of the wedding route, and even a Middleton family tree (I guess that’s just to prove she really is a Commoner).

Just for Fun
Boden, THE place for adorable British fashion, is THE place for Bingo this week. Go to their website to download Royal Wedding Bingo cards that you can play during the ceremony.

And while we’re having fun, how about a movie? One of my personal Royal family favorites is “The Queen.” It’s particularly fitting right now since it’s rumored that Wills and Kate will be honeymooning in Balmoral, and much of the movie takes place there.

(As an aside, why anyone would want to honeymoon in Balmoral, where it’s cloudy and foggy and about 45 degrees all year long is beyond me. But, hey, who am I to talk? I went to Wisconsin on my honeymoon. But that’s another story for another time. Or never.)

Another favorite British movie that has nothing to do with the Royal family but is one of my favorites is “Notting Hill.” Because . . . why not?

Finally, for a HUGE laugh, you have to see the Man Hater’s Channel Lifetime movie “William and Kate” played by C-list British actors who have never been to St. Andrews let alone ever ridden in a Range Rover (not that I ever have either, but hey, one can dream). To properly watch this movie you have to gather a bunch of friends together, drink a couple of glasses of wine, and only use your fake British accent all night long.

This movie just has to be experienced to be believed, but thankfully Lifetime has given us a 30 second trailer for their stellar film. Watch this and get in the mood for Friday.



So tell me, how will you be celebrating the Royal Wedding this week? WILL you be celebrating the Royal Wedding?

Top 10 Lines from "It's a Wonderful Life"

Last Saturday our family took an excursion into the big city. I had been hearing for years about the Christmas Show at the Music Box Theater in Chicago—it’s a double feature of “White Christmas” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” which was right up our alley.



Plus, it’s interactive, which is also right up our alley. Asking our family to not talk during a movie—PARTICULARLY a movie named “It’s a Wonderful Life”—is like asking us to, oh, I don’t know, not breathe.

Which reminds me of the time when B took me to see “Sophie’s Choice” when we were in college. Never mind the fact that the movie was a complete downer, we were on something like our third date, so we had some catching up to do. What can I say? We chatted.

Until the guy behind us told us, about halfway through the movie, to pipe down in some not so friendly terms. Talk about embarrassing. On your third date.

I think it bound us together for life.

I guess that could be a life lesson: be careful about getting shushed with a guy. You just might end up marrying him.

But then again, I’ve also been shushed with a girl. My college roommate, Jennifer and I got shushed in church one time. Also embarrassing.

I’m seeing a pattern here. I’d better shut up about it.

ANYWAY. Back to last Saturday and seeing “It’s a Wonderful Life” at the Musicbox Theater. Let me just tell you that that was one of the most fun experiences I’ve had in a long time. Just walking into the theater was amazing—it’s old and grand and beautiful and dark. It really brought me back to my childhood and the old theater we had in our town where my mom would drop me off every Saturday afternoon while she ran her errands.

Even before the movie started, some carolers came out on the stage and started a singalong. And then, Santa came out and sang with us. I tell you, I felt like a kid again singing those old non-religious Christmas songs. (What do you expect? It was the city. There was nothing religious about this day at all.) It was pure childlike Christmasy fun.



Not only that, but the crowd—those who had been to the Christmas Show before—all came dressed in their Santa hats and jingle bells. I had no idea what that was all about until the movie started. Every time there was a reference to Clarence everybody jingled their jingle bells. And every time Mr. Potter came on, everybody went, “Ssssssssss.”

Oh, it was fun.

And since I’ve seen “It’s a Wonderful Life” a time or twenty, I thought this might be a good time to share with you MY top 10 favorite lines from the movie and why. These may not be the most famous lines from the movie, and they may not be your favorites, but they are some of my favorites. Believe me, it’s hard to narrow all the great ones down to just ten.

Top 10 Lines from “It’s a Wonderful Life”

1. “George Bailey, I’ll love you till the day I die.” I think this might be my favorite line in the entire movie because as young Mary Hatch whispers this sweet sentiment into George's deaf ear she knows, even at age 10, that she loves this boy. I like a woman who knows her mind.

2. “This old thing? Why, I only wear this when I don’t care how I look.” Now Violet, the flirt, flips her hair and kicks up her heel while she says this line. I wish I had about one tenth of her gumption.

3. “Could I have $17.50?” I’ve heard that when the woman in the movie says this line and George leans over the counter to give her a kiss it is completely impromptu. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I like to think it is.

4. “Wish I had a million dollars! Hot dog!” Traditions like this one in Gower’s Drug Store don’t come along that often. Plus, who doesn’t wish they had a million dollars?

5. “Mr. Martini, how about some wine?” Yep, that Mary Bailey is my kind of gal.

6. “That’s what you get for praying.” George, in his moment of desperation, prays for some help and instead gets a pop on the lip. Don’t you ever feel like saying that?

7. “George, why must you torment the children?” This line is spoken quite frequently in my house, substituting B’s name for George’s, of course.

8. “Happy family? You call this a happy family? Why’d we have to have all these kids?” Another line spoken even more frequently in our house.

9. “I’m shakin’ the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world!” That’s how I felt when I left my little farm town for college, and you know what? I have.

10. This year I noticed something that I had never noticed in the movie before (which is what makes this movie so great--you catch something new every time). There’s a sign on the wall in George’s office that says “All you can take with you is that which is given away.” I think that’s a pretty great life motto, don't you?

Now tell me, what's your favorite Christmas movie (and as an FYI, "It's a Wonderful Life" is NOT my favorite one--"Holiday Inn" is my true favorite)? What's your favorite line from it?

Top Ten Things about a Junior High Retreat

Call me crazy, but I love junior high kids.

I know, right?! Crazy.

Oh, I love other kinds of kids, too—those of the high school and college-aged-young-adult variety—but there’s something just so, well, funny about junior high kids.

All that angst. All that energy. All that hair.

So, you’d think I would have laughed my weekend away this past weekend. And I pretty much did. Those junior highers totally cracked me up.

Oh, I didn’t mention my weekend plans? Don’t be jealous, but I went on a retreat. With 80 junior high kids.

It was a party, my friends. A Party in the U.S.A. if there ever was one.

Top Ten Things About a Junior High Retreat

1. Earth ball Soccer. Hysterical! Bodies flying. Cheers erupting. And one leader-who-shall-remain-nameless with a black eye. The game is brutal, folks. Brutal, I’m telling you!

2. Shaving Cream Wars. Picture 90 people on a field, each with a can of shaving cream. And they just go for it. In the end the field looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon threw up everywhere, but at least the camp smelled clean.

3. Rope Bridge. A perennial favorite. And what could be better than rope burns, leeches, and a swamp?

4. Canoeing. For the more mellow among us who want to build up our upper bodies by rowing against the wind for four miles. Just a walk in the park. Or a row down the river.

5. Get-to-know-you games. Quick! Line up and put yourselves into alphabetical order by your mother’s maiden name! Now line up in order of your favorite teacher’s birthdate! And now get into alphabetical order by your pet’s name! Quick!

6. Pranking. Pretty much my favorite part of retreats. Just ask the girls in my group. I was all about the pranking, oh yeah. All about it. I think my favorite prank was the one where I got in my sleeping bag and pretended to go to sleep. The prank was that I wasn’t pretending, but don’t tell the girls.

7. Wet socks. These all-important camp accessories are not only comfortable, but they also make your room smell great. Especially when twelve girls all have wet socks—your room smells so sweet.

8. Ooga Booga. This is a game that one of our youth pastors made up about 15 years ago. It’s a rite of passage for the 7th graders new to the youth group and is truly one of the highlights of the weekend. I’d explain the game to you, but it’s a huge secret, so if I told you, I’d have to kill you.

9. Watching girls flirt with boys and boys flirt with girls. And they thought we wouldn’t notice. Bwahahaha.

10. Underground church. A super-cool game we always play that’s not only fun, but educational too. Because we all know junior high kids are looking for that educational piece in their games. But the best part? It’s played outside. In the dark. (See number 9.) Kids running away from the secret police as they try to smuggle Bibles to the persecuted church.

Just your regular Saturday night in the suburbs.

So there. A few glimpses into our weekend at camp.

Oh yeah. And there was a speaker too. Trust me, he was good. He taught about the Prodigal Son story. The kids liked him so much that they t.p.-ed his car. Like, completely. Not a single bit of the car could be seen.

Not that I’d notice a prank or anything.

All-in-all it was a good weekend. Tiring, of course, because I’m old, but good. And one of the best parts was that the kids got to see God in action this weekend. Big time. It was supposed to rain all weekend. No kidding. We were all talking about it on Friday before we left, wondering how we’d get to play Underground Church if it rained. But, aside from a few sprinkles on Saturday morning, not a drop of rain fell from the sky.

Until, that is, the drive home.

He’s good, you guys. All the time. Even in the small things.

He’s good.

I'm linking up with Top Ten Tuesday at Oh, Amanda! Head on over there for some more great top ten lists.

Top Ten Tuesday - Class Reunion Edition

O.K., guys, it's been a wild few days. But, hey, it's been an adventure! I'm working on a post about the reunion weekend, but today I thought I'd just give you a list.

The top 10 things I loved about my class reunion.

1. The Anticipation. Believe it or not, I actually LIKE getting my house ready to have guests. I like thinking about meals. And I had a great time "fallifying" my house.

And it sure didn't hurt when these showed up on the very day my friends arrived.



Thanks, Jen and E!

2. Hugs. Just a natural reaction to seeing someone you haven't seen in nearly 25 years.

3. The food. One banquet. One tailgate BBQ. Lots of breakfasts. What can I say? I'm all about the food!



4. Class photos. This takes time and patience, but it also means you never know who you'll run into. I saw people there that I didn't see for the rest of the weekend. And one friend who lives right here whom I never get to see!

5. Our Freshman Floor. It was amazing to see so many girls who were on my floor freshman year. I guess that just goes to show that 1 West truly is the Best!

6. Powder Puff Football. That's Kate, looking tough and playing in her first Powder Puff game EVER.



She had fun . . . until she got crushed underneath another girl and her hip popped out of its socket. We're working on that one.

7. Seeing old boyfriends. Eh, not so much.

8. Hearing stories. At our banquet on Saturday night, we had a time of sharing that was really special. It was wonderful to see how God has carried so many of our classmates through some really rough storms. That's what it's really all about.

9. The pictures. Oh my! Throughout the weekend we were treated to several video montages of old pictures from college days. The hair! And those fair isle sweaters! We were prepsters, what can I say?

Each of our nametags sported our senior picture, too. Despite the fuzzy quality of this photo, I thought you'd enjoy seeing the Dorothy Hamill haircut in all it's glory.



10. The Anticipation. Again. Now that we've gotten back in touch, many of us have decided that we can't wait another 25 years to get together. And now that most of our kids are older it's easier to get away. We had fun dreaming and scheming about how and when we could next see each other. Love that!

So that's my weekend in a nutshell. More to come tomorrow.

How was YOUR weekend? What do you miss about your college friends?

Today I'm linking up with Top Ten Tuesday at Oh Amanda!

Homecoming Weekend

Photo credit: Waymarking.com

Well, the cake is baked. Dinner is ready. The house is clean. Sheets have been changed.

Aside from a couple of last-minute errands (new coffepot to replace the one I banged against the counter last weekend, perhaps?), I am ready.

My friends are on the road by now. One will be in the air later today. And five more members will be added to our happy family this weekend.

My 25th class reunion officially starts tomorrow, but since everyone arrives today, I say the party starts NOW.

I don't know what the weekend will hold entirely, but I do know there will be lots of laughter and tons of reminiscing.

Like about the time Jen got convicted and broke her "Who" album right in front of me. (I think she regretted it later.)

And the many times that Jen, Sue, Bonnie, and I laughed the night away in our suite Sophomore year.

Or the times that Jen and I spied on people having campus dates. (Yes sir, we did that. More than once. Pathetic? I think not.)

Oh yeah, we had fun. Those four years were some of the best of my life, and I love that my daughter is there now, making memories of her own.

I remember one time when I was in college, my mom was talking to me about my friends and she said, "These people will be friends for the rest of your life." I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that at the time since she had gone to a very large public university and wasn't really friends with anyone from college.

Now, so many years later, I look back and think about my mom's words so often. She was right. These people have been friends for almost 30 years, and I know we'll be friends for another 30.

I'm so thankful.

So if the blogging is sparse over the next couple of days, don't worry. You can be quite sure that I am having the time of my life with my closest friends that I never get to see. And you can also be quite sure that I will have a full report on Monday for you.

Don't forget about Fabulous Friday Food, though! I may not have much of a post, but I WILL have a link. Come play along and get some amazing recipes in return!

And have a great weekend. I know I will!

Renegade Craft Fair

Take one crystal clear blue sky, one cloudless free Sunday afternoon, one of the most gorgeous cities in the country and combine these with five cute girls (well, four cute girls and one cute mom) and what do you have?

My Sunday last Sunday!

My daughter, Kate, got the crafty gene, unlike her mother. In fact, so did her sisters. Don't know where that came from, but they all are artistic in their own special ways. Kate, in particular, has done some amazing work with papers and photography. You can see some of it on the blog she started over two years ago here.

And she reads craft blogs. Can you imagine? Craft blogs! Who knew?

But she kept reading about this event called the Renegade Craft Fair.

Renegade: 1. a person who deserts a party or cause for another. Or 2. an apostate from a religious faith.

What either of these definitions has to do with arts and crafts, I have no idea. Are they renegades FROM crafts or, probably more like it, from normal everyday life TO crafting? Whatever.

Anyway, last December we went to the Christmas show in Chicago and had a GREAT time! (I guess I didn't blog about it because I tried the little "search" button over there on the right and couldn't find it. What was I thinking?) So many wonderful indie artisans. It was so much fun and such a slice of life that I usually don't get to see.

Well, last weekend was the fall showing of the Renegade Craft Fair and this was no small deal. They shut down Division Street which, if you know Chicago you would know is a fairly busy street, and lined the place with probably 300 artisan booths.



See? Wasn't it a pretty day?

And pretty days just put me in a good mood, so I played the good mommy and allowed my children to eat cupcakes, croissants, and scones for lunch, all purchased at this amazing little bakery right on Division Street.



Alliance Bakery, I'll be back.

Each booth was decorated as the artist wished--some were cute, others just so-so. But I liked the rooster on this flag. And the booth was cute too.



Even the little flags to draw you into the booth were cute. I bought two pairs of earrings at this booth--probably because I loved the little flags made of old library cards.



And then there were the crafts themselves. Each hand made. Each unique. Each beautiful.

If I had an extra $185 I probably would have bought this purse. It was so well-made and just plain cool.



Same booth, cute little dolls.



For me, though, the most fun was watching the people who attended the Renegade Craft Fair. Believe me, we saw all types.

From the lady in the snake skin leggings . . .



To the street performer . . .



To the band . . .



. . . which only knew one song and drove me completely insane by the time we left.



Personally, I always think it's fun to see another side of life every now and then. Makes me appreciate the quiet world I usually live in.

Quiet indeed.

After about two hours of bumping into every form of tattoo, piercing, and crazy hair imaginable, Maggie looked at me and said, "Mom, I think I'm ready to go home now. I mean, this has been fun and all, but it feels like all the freaks and weirdos of the world are here."

"They aren't freaks and weirdos, honey," I replied. "They're crafters."

Eventually we did make it home to our cozy, quiet, sweet suburban life . . . where the ink stays in the pen and the only thing pierced is an earlobe.

Hockey, Anyone?

I promise, this will be the last time I mention hockey for, oh, about three months.

But did you happen to hear who won the Stanley Cup last week?

I know, I know, it's kind of obnoxious to rub it in the face of my friends from Philly (of whom I may have one or two), but if you've ever lived in Chicago you would understand that we don't win much around here. I mean, the Cubs have been waiting for something like 100 years for a World Series win, so come on, you've got to let us have our day of celebration.

They just don't come around very often in these parts.

So, on Friday, celebrate we did. With two million of our closest friends.

We took the train into the city for the festivities, leaving home around 7 a.m. Hey, after investing all that time watching about 80 games this year, we felt we should be there.

This was what we saw as soon as we left the station.

Two of my favorite hockey fans.

Maggie is the one on the left. Have I mentioned that she's a HUGE Blackhawks fan? She is. She even got to sit in the Blackhawks management box on her birthday this year.

HUGE, I'm telling you!

Then there were these knuckleheads hanging off a balcony waaaaay up high.

Me and my favorite fan. Doesn't she look happy?

After about two hours of waiting in the hot, hot sun, the busses finally rolled by. The players were just a little excited.

(Yes, we were kind of far away, but that's because Maggie and I wanted to stand on the steps of Millennium Park so we could see the busses roll down Washington Street and make the turn up Michigan Avenue.)

There it is! Sorry about the blurry picture, but like I said, we were pretty far away.

After the busses came by, the crowds moved in. Check out this mass of humanity that filled the streets. Every inch of space was taken up--it was CRAZY!!

As I said, the day was hot. Really hot. And humid.

But I ask you, was this necessary? Really? Come on.

Bike the Drive

4:30 a.m. - We head downtown with five bikes and five helmets and five tired people for this event:



Basically, the city of Chicago closes Lake Shore Drive from 5:30 a.m. until 10:00 a.m. so people can ride their bikes on it. We had never done this before, but I've always, always, always wanted to ride downtown and never had. This was the year, and I think we picked a winner.


5:50 a.m. - Hello, Sunshine!



6:00 a.m. - Sunrise over Navy Pier



6:15 a.m. - Good morning, Lake Michigan!



6:35 a.m. - Belmont Harbor



Around 6:45 a.m. we made it to our turnaround point where they had snacks and water for us, so we rested for a few minutes before heading south again.

7:00 a.m. - Heading south on Lake Shore Drive. A couple of my girls were getting a little tired at this point, so I told them to just keep looking at the John Hancock building. That's it on the left. That tiny black bump over the trees.



7:08 a.m. - This scene reminded me of the biggest editorial blunder in the movie "When Harry Met Sally." Do you remember it? At the beginning of the movie, Harry and Sally are driving to Chicago from New York to attend the University of Chicago, which is on the south side. They arrive in the city and are driving south on this stretch of Lake Shore Drive to, supposedly, get to the U of C. Now, if they had really been driving from New York, there's no way they would have even been on this part of Lake Shore Drive--they would have been coming from the south and they would not have even gone into this part of town.

It bothers me every time I watch the movie.



7:20 a.m. - Almost there!



7:25 a.m. - Right underneath it. John Hancock, we love you!



7:27 a.m. - Riding past some of the most expensive property in the city.



7:35 a.m. - Had to stop for some gorgeous photos of Trump Tower. I hadn't seen it from that vantage point before (the building was just finished not too long ago) and thought it was stunning.



7:50 a.m. - Back to our starting point in Grant Park. At this point the girls and I hung out while B did the south loop (another 15 miles). What can I say? He's a stud. I'm not.



On our way back to the car we rode around Buckingham Fountain--isn't it pretty? See that red building in the background (the CNA building)? It's a little hard to tell, but there's a Chicago Blackhawk insignia put in the side of the building. We all thought that was pretty cool.



What a great day. We made memories I'm sure we won't forget for a long time, and that is what summer is all about.

Better Than Oprah

Helllllloooo, People!!!!!

Have you ever watched Oprah’s “Favorite Things” show? It’s the one just before Christmas when Oprah tells all of her favorite things from the year from CDs to computers to cars. And then she gives one of everything to every member of her audience that day.

That must be the hardest ticket to get your hands on in all of show business. In fact, I'm sure it is. I've tried.

I’ve only watched Oprah's "Favorite Things" show a couple of times, but for me those shows are the quickest way to bring out that green-eyed monster in me. I mean, it’s not like I don’t already have a washer and dryer that work just fine, but Oprah’s giving away a new set of front-loaders in Candy Apple Red, and it makes me feel like my little white top-loaders are completely inadequate.

Same with the sunglasses. Surely my cheap-o pair of sunglasses do not block the rays as well as the $300 pair she’s giving away. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong in my life that I have to wear cheap-o sunglasses. Know what I mean?

Of course, this year Oprah didn’t even do a “Favorite Things” show—I guess the economy has hit even O the Great. (Maybe her buddy Barack will give her a bailout.)

Anyway, a couple of years ago the girls in our small group decided to do a “Favorite Things” giveaway of our own. We don’t spend nearly as much as Oprah, but we sure have a good time.

We got together this week to have lunch at Julie’s house and to exchange gifts. The lunch was wonderful, but it was the gifts we were most curious to see—what would our friends choose as their favorite thing of 2009?

In past years we’ve given each other really fun things like jewelry, ornaments, and even cake mixes (that was me—my gift is usually food related. I wonder why.). Last year, Wendy gave us each a fleece blanket that everyone in my family fights over—it’s just so soft and warm.

This year was an abundance of great stuff. Here’s a picture of the loot I came home with. . .



Becky and Jymette loved the Slatkin & Co. Fresh Balsam candle from Bath and Body Works so much that they both gave it to us. That’s never happened before. But I’m glad it did because that is one great candle. I’ve been burning them pretty much constantly since Wednesday, and every time someone comes in my house they tell me it smells great in here.

Olfactory pleasure is important, you know.

Kim gave each of us a Mac Cosmetics lip set, complete with a lip pencil, lip stick, and lip gloss that all fits into that cute pink carrying case you see in the front of the picture. Adorable, huh? My lips will look amazing at the party we’re going to on Saturday.

This year Wendy gave the food gift—all of her favorites from Trader Joe’s. I love that because I love Joe the Trader, as he’s called around here. She also tucked in a beautiful red glass ornament as which looks great on my tree.

Beth always overdoes it, and this year was no exception. Some wonderful hand cream from Park City, UT—mmmmm. And a totally cool necklace from DeDe Jaderholm (it’s hanging around the water pitcher in the picture).

I haven’t talked about DeDe here, and maybe I will someday soon, but suffice it to say that she is a friend to all of us and an exceptionally talented jewelry designer. I have too many just a few of her pieces, and every one is unique and fun and special. Plus, she lives right around the corner which makes picking up a little gift (for yourself, maybe?) very easy.

Julie went the extra mile this year to give us each a hand blown water pitcher. You may have heard the squeals of delight as we each opened ours. See it toward the left in the picture? Isn’t that just the coolest thing? Plus, what makes it extra-special is that Julie scoured the countryside looking for them at estate sales and antique shops. I love that she did that.

So I think that’s everything. I love each gift. And I love that we all put some thought into why these are our favorite things.

Oh my gift? What did I choose to give to my friends? Well, my gift was a two-part gift which came from two of my favorite stores: Williams-Sonoma and Anthropologie. AND they are food-related, sort of, because I just can’t help myself.

Red measuring spoons from Williams-Sonoma because I love red and I love to bake and I think everyone else should too. (Of course, when one of my friends who does not cook took them out of the package she said, “Now what are we supposed to do with these?” I think that might have been the best line of the day.)



And this coffee cup that I bought earlier in the year. I just love the detail on it, especially the little flower inside the handle. Isn’t that just too cute?



Plus, I love Anthropologie for gifts because they always give you the cutest ribbons and doo-dads to put on your gift. See?



So, the “Favorite Things” gift exchange goes on, and Oprah’s got nothing on us. In fact, if she ever decides to reinstate her “Favorite Things” show, I know of six girls who would gladly serve as her personal shoppers.

Call me, Oprah!

Travel Tuesday - Acting Like a Tourist in Your Own Hometown

I feel like I know “my city” pretty well. I grew up in the Chicago area, lived within 60 miles of the city my entire life, and went to college in the suburbs, where I now live. I even spent two and a half years commuting to the city for grad school.

When B and I were in college, we spent many a Saturday evening in the city. We’d pack my car with friends and head downtown, park at Moody Bible Institute (what could be safer?), and basically just walk around with no particular destination. Poor college students that we were, we’d usually have about five bucks in our pockets. If we had a little more, we’d splurge on pizza, but if we were short on cash we’d head to a place on Rush Street called Bagel Nosh where we could get a “special” for 75 cents. The special Bagel Nosh was basically a bagel with butter and cinnamon sugar, but it tasted like the food of the gods to us.

Then we grew up, got married, had kids. Life got filled with kid activities and life-in-general. Nowadays we rarely go downtown, which is sad to me. I love the city so much.

A couple of weekends ago my sister came into town. Now, usually when she comes to visit (which isn’t that often . . . ahem) we do the usual Chicago thing—shopping.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to shop with my sister; we have a lot of fun together and we have similar tastes. And I can’t think of a better place to shop than Michigan Avenue—it’s probably one of the best shopping streets in the entire world.But the two days prior to our downtown day were pretty much spent shopping, so we decided to try something we hadn’t done before.

We decided to play tourist.

I’ve been a tourist in lots of cities around the world. I’ve taken bus trips and boat trips and walking tours and bike tours. And each one has been fun, memorable, and interesting.

I know, I know. Some people think taking touristy tours are the ultimate in cheesy. And they might be right. But I can’t think of a better way to cover a lot of ground and learn something along the way than to take a tour of some sort.

So my sister and I decided to take a tour. I had done a little research ahead of time, so I knew where to go, what time the tour would leave, and even which train to take. Believe me, it always pays to do your research.

That morning we threw on sweaters, jeans, and tennis shoes knowing that in doing so we would probably get laughed out of Nordstrom. That was O.K. We weren’t headed to Nordstrom this time.

On that particular Saturday, we were going to take a little ride.

But not on one of these.



Or on one of these.



Although those would have been fun too.

This time we were going to ride bikes. Our family had such a great time on our bike tour of Washington D.C. this summer that I thought it might be fun to do a similar thing right here in Chicago.



(Oh my goodness, look at those shoes! Could they be any more white?!)

The tour was amazing and so was our tour guide, Jarod. He won my heart from the moment we met when he told me he had just graduated from Loyola with a degree in English. My kind of guy.

Our tour was the Bike and Roll Neighborhoods Tour. We started out at the bike center in Millennium Park, right next to the beautiful Pritzker Pavillion.



Our first stop was Navy Pier. If you really want to feel like a tourist in Chicago, head straight to Navy Pier. Do not pass the Shedd Aquarium. Do not stop off at Wrigley Field. Just go straight to Navy Pier, the mecca of Chicago tourism. All we did there was pick up some more riders and then we were off.

Our tour rode straight up the beautiful lakefront, stopping for a second at North Avenue Beach for a photo op.



Then we headed inland through some neighborhoods—the Gold Coast where we saw an early Frank Lloyd Wright home.



Then through Old Town.



And into Lincoln Park, briefly stopping at the zoo, but not taking the time to walk around because it was getting much too cold.

After a couple of hours of riding, we headed back down the lakefront to Navy Pier and then to our original starting point at Millennium Park.

We really wanted to stop somewhere for dinner before we headed back to the suburbs, but did I mention that my sister and I were wearing tennis shoes? I mean, hello?! This is a sophisticated city and our bright, white shoes were really sticking out like sore thumbs.



Major fashion faux pas.

We ended up catching the next train home and eating out here where people don’t care quite as much about the color of your shoes. Still, we made sure we kept our feet hidden under the table.

I have issues, I know.

So, aside from the shoe thing, the day was great. I even learned a thing or two about the city I love so much. And even though it was cold and my poor southern sister was probably freezing her little patooty off, we had a lot of fun.

Next time you’re looking for something different to do when friends or family come to town, do a little research and act like a tourist in your own hometown.

Let Nothing Come Between Granny and Her Tiramisu

We live in a fairly type-A town. You’ll never catch me running for City Council or for the school board because those poor people get enough flack to last a lifetime in just one week around here. It’s a town filled with people who want the very best for their children at all times, no exceptions. People who will stop at nothing to make sure they get what they want.

Of course, half of the people want it one way and half want it another. Seriously, if the City Council decided to paint all of the street posts in our town green, there would be a group of “concerned citizens” who wanted them changed to red. And maybe a fringe group who would want some of them red, but some of them pink.

I admire those who choose to serve our city and our schools in this way, but you’ll probably never see me doing it. I just couldn’t deal with people being mad at me. I’m a middle child, remember?

Anyway, it stands to reason that all the type-A people in our town would make for churches that are also filled with type-A people. That would be our church. We love it, and we love the people there, but my observation after about 25 years is that there are a lot of type-A people in our church.

And, you know, sometimes that’s not a bad thing. We work hard. We get stuff done. We are committed, for the most part. And we send out a lot of missionaries.

When I say a lot, I mean, a LOT. Like over 150 missionary families. It’s a great heritage that I kind of like about our church.

Every year we host a huge missions conference which took place this past weekend. This year we had the largest gathering of missionaries ever—probably 30 families—came “home” to our church to get refreshed and to touch base with their supporters, friends, and family.

Yesterday’s church service was the culmination of the conference, and it was really different. For one thing, there was no sermon. All of the missionaries helped with the service by doing a type of reader’s theater. They even got the congregation involved in doing some of the reading.

And there was music. Wonderful world-music by a group of missionaries who are ethnomusicologists. No strumming guitar players for us. No way. We have to have ethnomusicologists. See what I mean about our type-A-ness?

Every year part of the missions festival is a fun evening with the missionaries. It’s usually a game of some sort and it usually involves food. Come on, you can’t have a missionary event without food. But the main purpose is to get the people in our congregation to interact with the missionaries who are in town.

So last night’s big event was just such a thing. We were greeted at the door and handed a card with instructions telling us that in order to win dessert we’d have to get three stars on our card. The only way to get a star was to talk to one of the missionaries about their work or where they lived.

It’s a great idea in theory, but in reality it played out a little differently.

Our family walked around together, each of us holding our little cards, hoping to fill them up with stars because the more stars you got the more dessert, or maybe even a cappuccino, you could get. We were hungry, so we tried to move quickly.

The problem was, all of the type-A people in our church were on a similar mission.

Pretty soon the room filled up, and it was getting tough to get near one of the missionaries we needed to talk to. Elbows were being thrown as we crowded around them, hoping to hear a little bit about their work, but mostly to get a star for our little dessert card.

At one point we spent about 10 minutes talking to an older gentleman, very politely I might add, only to have him doll out one star for the five of us rather than giving all of us a star. He was playing the game quite literally and would not break the rules for anything.

We were incredulous, to say the least.

But, not to be deterred because we’re a fairly type-A group ourselves, we moved on, hoping to find a friend who would be a little more free and easy with the stars. As the evening wore on, we started to realize what a difficult task this was going to be. We were really having to work for our tiramisu!

Finally, with two stars on each of our cards (three on mine because the older gentleman took a liking to me and gave the one star to me), we waited to talk to a woman about her work in South Africa. We inched closer and closer, already beginning to taste the gooey richness of our dessert, when all of a sudden an old lady scooted up close to her and pretty much pushed B out of the way.

She cut in line! The old lady hip-checked my husband to get ahead in line!

All five of us stared, open mouthed, at the woman and at each other. And then we decided we’d had enough.

We may be a little bit type-A, but we’re not type-A+.

After nearly an hour of making small talk and trying to get near a missionary in order to get a star, we gave up and left. We all decided that it might just be easier to go home and make our own tiramisu than to get three stars on our cards.

Later that night, B started having some back trouble. I’m pretty sure it was the hip-check he took from the little old lady.

The Great Pumpkin Giveaway

Last week's great pumpkin saga brought such an amazing response from all of you. I am still laughing about how many of you have commented about it or made comments to me in person.

Will you now agree that this is, indeed, a crisis and I wasn't just making it up?

Well, to show my appreciation for your comments/responses/sympathies, I have decided to share some of my pumpkin wealth with you. If you'll recall, I did get four whole cans of pumpkin from Whole Foods . . . at the very dear price of $2.99 per can, no less! They are sitting in my pantry even now.

But I just don't feel right hoarding the nation's pumpkin supply, so I've decided to do a little giveaway. I am willing to part with two cans of Whole Foods Organic Pumpkin--that's half my stash, people!--to the person who sends me the best pumpkin recipe.



What is a must-have in your house every fall? Is it Grandma's pumpkin bread? Pumpkin muffins? Do you have THE BEST pumpkin pie recipe? Or is it a coffee cake that you make every year?

Here's what you do . . . either write out the recipe in the comments section and post it here on my blog. Or, if you have your own blog, write a post about it and link up to it here in the comments section. Either way, I have to be able to read the full recipe. (I also have to have a way to get in touch with you, so be sure to leave your email address.)

I'd like to test them all before I make a decision, but since the pumpkin supply is so short, I'll just have to judge them based on reading the recipe. And, of course, the outcome will be completely subjective. I'll judge the recipes and let my family have the final say.

I will post the winner on Friday and then over the weekend I'll make the winning recipe and post a picture of it next Monday. Along with the Wildfam review of it.

So come on! Play along! This just might save your Thanksgiving.

"I'm a Patron"

So yesterday I mentioned that we took the girls to see Carrie Underwood on Sunday night. What I didn’t mention was that there is a story attached to it.

There’s always a story.

Before I get to the story, however, I have to backtrack and tell you that Maggie spent her Saturday afternoon looking through her dad’s old scrapbook. At one point, as I walked through the room, she said to me with all kinds of amazement in her voice, “Mom, one year Dad got all C’s.”

“Really?” I asked. I wanted living proof that my husband isn’t as perfect as he seems. “Show me that report card.”

Maggie flipped back a few pages and turned to B’s second grade report card. Yep, straight C’s alright. C for Commendable, that is. That’s like getting all plus marks today. Or, if you want to look at it this way, straight A’s.

We like to tease the only man in our house about being Mr. Perfect. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who is luckier than him. Not only did he win the lottery when he married me (sorry, but that previous sentence just walked me right into it!), he’s also won many a golf outing prize, raffle, or contest. The guy just exudes success. It’s weird.

So on the way to the concert we got into another of our teasing fits. Maggie even said, “I got kind of sick of looking at Dad’s scrapbook—it was so full of awards and straight A report cards.” We laughed at how everything he touches turns to gold.

But on Sunday night it was good to be in the same car with B because his Midas touch came through yet again. See, earlier in the week we had been sent a pink postcard in the mail with instructions about parking for Sunday night’s concert. It made very little sense to us, but it seemed like something we should hold onto and even take with us because it talked about “Patron parking.”

Now, B’s employer is a patron of the arts and a sponsor of this music festival, and since we had ordered our tickets through B's work we thought maybe the special pink parking postcard was somehow related. Since the instructions were very specific, and it was definitely delivered to B at our home address, we knew it wasn't a mistake.

We just couldn't figure out exactly why it was sent to us.

The concert was sold out, and even though we arrived near the concert venue three hours (yes, you read that right--three hours) before the concert, the line of cars to get into the regular parking lot was about 2 miles long and moving veerryy slowly. The line of cars crept down the center lane of traffic, and, if they were lucky, they might get a place to park in about an hour.

But our little pink postcard told us to head down the right lane where there was no traffic, basically bypassing all those poor people who were waiting in that 2 mile line. B and I kind of looked at each other for a second . . . but only for a second . . . and the decided to go for it. Let’s just see what happens when we get to the lot, was our thinking. It couldn't be any worse than waiting in this line.

Suddenly we were in Midas mode, cruising around a long line of cars toward the “patron” lot.

We were greeted by two security guards who couldn’t have been more than 18 years old. B handed them the pink postcard and innocently asked, “Is this where I’m supposed to be?”

These guys had no idea what the pink postcard was about, so they radioed ahead to their supervisor. “Ah, yeah, I’ve got a guy here who has a postcard that talks about patron parking. We don’t know what to do.”

After a brief conversation between the guards and the supervisor, the guard said, “Just head down there and talk to our supervisor.”

Great. Happy to oblige. We were a few yards closer to the lot than we were a few minutes ago, so we headed down to have a chat with the parking lot supervisor. B showed him the pink postcard.

“I’ve never seen one of these,” said Mr. Supervisor. “Are you a patron?”

“Yeah, I’m a patron,” said B. Sort of.

“Do you work for ____?” The supervisor mentioned the name of the sponsoring bank for that evening's concert.

“No, I work for ____,” replied B. His bank also sponsors some concerts, just not the one we happened to be attending.

He stared at the card, obviously unsure of how to handle the situation. “Well, just head on up there.”

We were in! Just like that, we were headed to the sweetest parking spot I’ve ever had, not twenty steps from the front gate. Oh, and did I mention that we didn't have to pay a thing? All because of Golden Boy.

Later that night we were laughing about how we got one of the best parking spots in the entire place and how we might not have been supposed to have that spot. Maybe. Probably. And we may have laughed just a little about the supervisor’s reaction to our pink postcard: “Hmmm, I’ve never seen one of these cards before.”

And then one of the girls let out this well-timed zinger: "Well, Mr. Parking Lot Supervisor, that’s probably because people don’t usually hand you their mail!"

That's when it hit me . . . Golden Boy might just be raising three Golden Girls. We'll just have to wait and see.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Vacation: a period of suspension of work, study, or other activity, usually used for rest, recreation, or travel; recess or holiday.

Well, we’re back from “vacation.” (Right now you’re supposed to picture me with both hands in the air, two fingers on each hand making the silly quotation sign.) But I wonder . . . was it really a vacation?

Recreation. Sure.

Travel? Definitely. (We’re talking almost 2,000 miles on our car.)

Rest? No way.

I’d have to say that over the past few years, our favorite family vacations have consisted of not much more than a pair of flip-flops, a towel, and a beach. We’ve spent many a peaceful, reflective hour on Kiawah Island in South Carolina where the toughest decision we make all day is what to have for dinner.

Not so last week. We were animals. Vacation animals we were. We ran around Washington D.C. like chickens with no heads, and we sweated like pigs. See? Animals.

But while we were sweating and clucking, one of my friends was lounging her week away on Kiawah. Resting. Relaxing. I sure hope she slept enough for both of us because on this “vacation” I didn’t get much sleep.

It could have had something to do with the full-size bed I had to share with B, which left me exactly 6 ½ inches of sleeping space when we normally share a king-size bed. But I don’t know. It could just have been that we went to bed late and got up early and kept going and going and going.

Oooh, I just thought of another animal analogy—the Energizer bunny. Yes. That was us last week. Little pink bunnies marching all over the nation’s capitol.

Anyway, we’re home now and so happy to be here. School starts in two days. My parents arrive today for a visit. And life is getting back to normal.

I’ll post a Travel Tuesday tomorrow about our vacation, but for now, I want to give you the good, the back, and the ugly about our, um, vacation.

The Good. I’d have to say that Williamsburg turned out to be a pleasant surprise for all of us. Who knew that you could have so much fun in a place where people put on “period costumes” (don’t even get me started on what our family thought THAT meant!) and act like colonists all day, never once breaking character? And who would have thought a town where every store, restaurant, and business name is preceded by the words “Colonial” or “Settlers” or “Village” would end up seeming charming to us? O.K., the “Colonial/Settler” thing got to be a joke with us, but a charming joke for sure.

Anyway, Williamsburg was fun and quaint and beautiful. I have a feeling we’ll be back someday.

The Bad. Imagine standing in line for 10 minutes, being herded into a movie theater to watch a 20 minute film you don’t want to see, then standing in another long line for 15 minutes. When your tour guide finally comes, he herds you, without a word, up an escalator and down a corridor. He takes a breath and begins: “WelcometotheCapitolbuildingmynameisTonyI’llbeyourtourguidetoday.” Slight pause. “We’restandingintheCapitolrotunda.Thepaintingsyouseeonthewallsbehindyou . . .” Two rooms, 15 minutes, and a dizzying lecture later we were back on the escalator to the Visitor’s Center, scratching our heads in disbelief. Could it really be over? Is that all we get to see?

The Capitol Tour was, without a doubt, the worst tour I’ve ever experienced. Don’t do it unless you’ve arranged a private tour with someone from your Congressman’s office. Just don’t.

The Ugly. My car right now. After 1,800 miles the windshield is covered with bugs and the inside smells like old socks. Later on today it will get a bath and will be as good as new. Oh yeah, it IS new.

All-in-all our vacation was great. Just being together was fun (well, except for those “low” moments, but I won’t mention those because I’m sure our family is the only family that snipes at each other about whose turn it is to sleep on the floor or who gets the last swig of Coke out of the one bottle we’re sharing. You know, the truly rare moments that nobody else has. Right?).

Be sure to come back tomorrow for more Wild family fun and my Travel Tuesday post.

In the meantime, leave me a comment telling me about your summer vacation. Where did you go? What was good? Bad? Ugly?

Weekend Update

I hate to even admit it. I mean, it’s summer, and summer is supposed to be fun and full of activity. Right? Well, shhhhh, don’t tell anyone, but last week was . . . boring. We didn’t have much to do. Friends were out of town. Nobody had camps to attend. The weather was too crummy to go to the pool. And, yep, by the end of the week we were all kind of glaring at each other in frustration.

Now, sure, I could have planned something for us to do, but I’m working on a project that is keeping me busy in the mornings, so I didn’t plan anything. Plus, I don’t think it’s all that bad for kids to be bored once in a while. In fact, it might be a good thing because starting next week things are really going to heat up around here. We’ll be sending all three girls off on different trips, people will be coming and going for the rest of the summer, and I’m heading to a conference that I’ll tell you about next week.

But in the meantime, boredom has set in.

Like I said, by Friday of last week we were just kind of sitting around looking at each other cross-eyed, so our weekend was a blessed relief. Turns out, all three girls had activities scheduled for Friday night. Maggie went to a pool party with some friends, and Kate and Abby spent the evening playing a game with the youth group. Well, “game” might be a bit of a stretch. It’s an activity (?) that involves cars and dropping people off in undisclosed locations and searching for people all over town. Basically, it’s high school craziness that I’m sure will land them all in jail someday, but, hey, I’m permissive that way.

I was just glad to have a night alone with my husband. We ended up walking downtown to a newer restaurant where the food and atmosphere were great, but we somehow managed to get seated at a table being served by the World’s Worst Waiter. Granted, we were sitting outside—it was a gorgeous evening—but did WWW really have to sweat in our food? Poor guy was dripping, his glasses practically hanging off the end of his nose. And he was distracted. He either didn’t feel well or was tripping on something or both because he did not have his head in the game. And on a Friday night at a lovely restaurant, with live music and an outdoor patio, you have to have your head in the game.

Trust me on this one. I’ve waited tables enough in my life to know that if you don’t feel well during your shift you might as well hang it up. And WWW should definitely hang it up—he’s really in the wrong line of work.

Thankfully we didn’t let WWW completely ruin our evening. Since he never offered us coffee or dessert, we hightailed it out of there and walked to one of the three ice cream places our downtown offers. (Just one of the many reasons I love our town!) We ate our dessert as we slowly walked home.

It was nice, and one of those summer evenings you just don’t want to end because you know that very soon you’ll have to go pick up your youngest daughter and two of her friends from the pool party and you’ll get to listen to them chatter all the way home and then you’ll have to wait up for the other two to come home and then you’ll end up talking and watching Conan with the teenagers until 11.

Yes, the boredom beast had disappeared by Friday night.

Earlier in the week, B had decided that Saturday would be family night, so he ordered tickets for our local minor league baseball team because, hey, not only could we have fun at the old ballpark for cheap, but there would also be fireworks. Who could pass it up?

Saturday night turned out to be another beautiful evening, so even if some of us don’t love baseball all that much (I’m not naming names), it was fun to just sit together eating hot dogs and watching the crowd. Plus, the between-innings shenanigans are always hilariously stupid. See?





And then there was the girl in front of us who WOULD NOT SHUT UP through the entire game. Yack yack yack yack yack. All four of the women in our family can talk, yes we can (just ask Mattwholivedwithus), but this girl beat us in the talking game entirely. Might have been the beer samples she was chasing.



That’s right. Beer samples. Goose Island Brewing Company was giving away free samples. And, no, I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. What’s next? Crack samples? Weird.

Anyway, the fireworks were great. Again. Because we all know how much I like fireworks.



But the best part of the evening, for me, was the view in front of us. Turns out, going to the ballpark can be a spiritual experience.



And a learning experience too. Because Maggie fiddled with my camera and figured out how to crop. Right there on the camera! So just in case you couldn’t read the guy’s neck who was sitting in front of us, here it is again, courtesy of Maggie who showed me how to crop on my camera.



Oh, you can’t beat fun at the old ballpark!

I Still Wanna Be Greek

When last I left you, B and I were headed to McDonald's to get a Coke after the wedding. My blood sugar had dropped significantly from all that standing up and from the the very little sitting down. I was parched and getting a headache.

Aren't I a fun date?

Besides, we had a little time, so we acted like our parents and drove around a little bit, stopping for that much-needed Coke. Diet for him; regular for me. Ahhhh, nothing like a cold McDonald's Coke over ice to make a girl feel better. And I did, by the time we got to . . .

The Reception

While standing in the receiving line, we overheard the groom telling someone to make sure we were at the reception right when it started because there would be a big surprise. Curious, we did just what he said. (Never mind the fact that we are always early to EVERYTHING.)

When the doors to the reception room were opened, this is what we saw.





Sorry about the blurry pictures--I'm not professional--but hopefully you can get a sense of the sweets table. This table was over 15 feet long and laden, LADEN I TELL YOU!, with Greek pastries of every possible kind. I have never in my life seen anything like it, and for a girl with a sweet tooth like I have, I was in hog heaven. (Is that a proper term for a wedding? I don't know.)

I was ready to skip the dinner portion altogether and just get to the sweets table.

But, of course, we didn't skip dinner. Who would? What with the Greek soup (oh my yum!) and the salad (I can always take or leave a salad--just not my thing) and the fillet Mignon with grilled prawns and the flaming cherries jubilee! Yes, they even had a separate dessert before we got to the sweets table.

Whew!! My head was spinning after all that food wonderfulness.



(This is just a random picture of our table, but I thought it was cool that each table was strewn with rose petals. Sweet, huh?)

It took about an hour and a half to get through dinner because between each course two people would stand up to give speeches. Let me tell you, these speeches were delightful. We learned all sorts of interesting things about the bride and groom, none of which shall be revealed here since I don't even know these people. At all.

But let's just say that the speeches were sweet. I think my favorite speeches were from the groom and the bride. Both of them started out by saying that they wanted to thank God first for bringing them together. Like I mentioned in yesterday's post, there was such a sense that this was, first and foremost, a spiritual union. A God-ordained marriage. And that sense carried through to the reception. I loved that.

Well, after much speech-giving, hugging, kissing (lots and lots of kissing--and I'm not talking about the bride and groom. Those Greeks just love to kiss!), eating, and drinking, we finally got to the sweets table. Let me just tell you that it did not disappoint. B and I loaded our plates because it all looked so good and we figured that we didn't know anybody there (well, at least I didn't) so who cared?! It was insanely decadent, but so, so good.

As I was standing there contemplating whether I should take a second plate, I saw an older gentleman walking around the table with a styrofoam "to-go" container. I nearly stabbed a woman to death with my fork as I ran to ask him where he got that. His Greek accent was so thick I could barely understand him, but I think he told me to ask the waiter.

I practically sprinted back to my table to ask our waiter for a "to-go" container. My girls just HAD to see some of these amazing sweets which, by the way, were all--each and every one of them--homemade. Yes, friends, all of the Greek thias and ya yas were busy the week of the wedding baking their particular specialty for the bride and groom. Each piece of baklava was baked to perfection. The little powdered sugar-covered cookies melted in my mouth. And the peanut butter balls were decorated to perfection.

It was an amazing sight. I SO wanted to be Greek when I saw that table.

I know, I know, enough about the sweets table. Next came, what else?, the dancing. This was not your Brittany Spears/Justin Timberlake/Michael Jackson dance mix spun by a Rock 'n Roll D.J. Oh no. This was GREEK MUSIC. And, oh, was it fun.

The only song that was what you might call "modern" song was the first dance of the bride and groom. They danced to "Lucky" by Jason Mraz and Cobie Caillat which is such a sweet song. It was a perfect first dance.

But other than that little contemporary interlude, we were livin' in Greek town. The music was fun, the dancing was lively. And nobody cared if we didn't know how to do whatever it was they were doing because everybody was just having fun.



At one point I saw someone throw a fistful of rose petals onto the bride, and I thought, "Oh, how sweet. They're throwing blessings on her." I knew what the rose petals meant by then. No pulling one over on me now.

But later, when things got going a little bit, I noticed that people were throwing something else.



Yes, I once again witnessed something I've never seen at a wedding before. Dollar bills. People were throwing wads of cash at the bride and groom! I'm guessing that signifies prosperity, but clear me up if I'm wrong about that. I never asked anyone what it meant for sure.

So all-in-all, I'd have to say that was the most fun I've ever had at a wedding. Hands down. Those Greeks not only know how to party, they know how to eat and how to kiss and how to make even us non-Greeks feel most welcome in their setting. It was a true celebration--the kind that every parent would want to send their child off with. This reception was full of fun, but also full of symbolism and most definitely full of love.

I so want to be Greek.




P.S. (O.K., just because I promised you yesterday . . . here you go!)

I Wanna Be Greek

Opa!

You know how one of the "themes" of my blog is that "Everyday is an adventure"? Well, B and I sure had one super-duper adventure on Sunday. We attended our very first big, fat, Greek wedding.

I sure hope it wasn't our last, 'cause boy, was that fun! I now officially want to be Greek.

It's hard to know where to begin with describing this event, so I guess I'll just start at the beginning.

The ceremony.

We were invited to this wedding by the groom who works with B. He was actually quite surprised when he learned that we were planning to attend the ceremony. I guess he thought we'd just show up for the party afterward.

But this was going to be the real-deal, and we wanted to experience it all. I'm so glad we did. We entered this beautiful Greek Orthodox church shortly before the ceremony and took in a deep breath at the elaborate mosaics (or were they painted?) all around the church from the front of the church to the ceiling. All of the apostles were represented--twice!--and a huge painting of Jesus adorned the top of the domed ceiling, like He was looking down on us.

The ceremony was performed mostly in Greek. Yep, that's right. We didn't understand a word of this ceremony (except for the couple of parts that were actually spoken in English, but even then the priest had such a thick Greek accent that I could barely tell he was speaking English). Thankfully there was a program with a description of each section of the ceremony.

Most people might think the ceremony was long--it was about an hour long--and especially grueling because we stood for most of it. (They did let us sit down three times for about five minutes each time, but otherwise we were standing.) I was so intrigued by the symbolism of each part of the ceremony, however, that I found the time went very quickly.

All I can say is that the Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony is beautiful. The symbolism is rich and meaningful. The sung/spoken liturgy was mesmerising. And even though I didn't understand much of it, I found I stayed with it the entire time.

Here are a couple of quotes from the program that I found especially interesting:

"Since this union of J and A is a special measure of grace granted by the Holy Spirit, they will not bestow spoken vows to each other." At first I thought this was kind of strange--I've never been to a wedding that didn't include vows. But as I sat through this ceremony, I got a real sense that this was a sacred event. That it was God who brought this couple together and only God who could separate them. And for some reason, it seemed like vows, human vows, didn't seem necessary.

One section of the service is called "The Joining of the Right Hands." During this rite, the right hands of the couple are joined together while the priest reads a prayer. Their hands are linked throughout the rest of the service "to symbolize the oneness of the couple." They took communion while still holding hands. And they walked around the main table three times, still holding hands. Their hands were only divided at the very end of the ceremony when the priest brought the Bible down between them, symbolizing that only God could break their bond.

I loved what the program said about the rite of the common cup. "The drinking of wine from the common cup serves to impress upon the couple that from that moment on they will share everything in life, joys as well as sorrows, and that they are to 'bear one another's burdens.' Their joys will be doubled and their sorrows halved because they will be shared." Isn't that beautiful? All that just from sharing a communion cup.

After the ceremony, we greeted the bride and groom and were handed a fistful of rose petals. B and I, being ignorant Xenos, just thought that was what they had chosen to throw, rather than rice or bird seed, but as we were waiting for the couple to come outside a woman came up to me, handed me her rose petals, and asked me if I would throw her blessings on the couple for her since she had to leave. I'm so glad she did that or otherwise we wouldn't have known the significance of the rose petals.

Everything about the ceremony had meaning, and I thought that was pretty special.

Since this post is getting about as long as the wedding ceremony I've just described, I think I'll hold off on describing the reception until tomorrow. You'll definitely want to come back because you just might get to see a picture of yours truly dancing Greek-like.

You wouldn't want to miss that now, would you?

Twenty Questions

See this shirt?

Wanna know why it's hanging over my shower?
Because it's soaking wet.

And why there is a number pinned on it?
Because this morning, for the very first time in my 40-something-year-old life, I ran in a race!

Can you tell I'm proud of myself?
*smile*

So, why is it wet?
Because it rained this morning. The entire time I was out there. Buckets and buckets of rain.

And how did you do in this very wet race?
Well, now, let's see. I ran a little bit. I walked most of it. But I came in under 40 minutes.

Is that a good time for someone of your age and stature?
I have no idea.

So who else ran?
Everyone in my family ran. Even Maggie--it was her first 5K too.

And how did they all do?
They all beat me.

Even Maggie?
Yes, even Maggie who did an amazing job of sticking with her dad. He said she didn't complain once.

Where was this race held?
This is one of the reasons I wanted to do this race, because it wove through my neighborhood, starting and ending at our church.

How many people ran?
I'm not sure, but over 400 people, since, as you can tell from the picture above, I was "runner" (and I use that term VEEERRYY loosely) 399.

Did you see anything interesting along the race route?
Just a lot of umbrellas. And my daughter's history teacher (which really kind of embarrassed me as I strolled past him since he's the high school cross country coach).

Was this some kind of fundraiser?
Yes, it was.

And what did the funds go to?
I'm so glad I asked! The money that was made off of this race goes to a wonderful ministry within our church called the STARS ministry.

What is the STARS ministry?
It's a ministry to disabled people. It's so great because they provide all kinds of programs for mentally and physically handicapped people and their families. They even provide a summer camp experience for many of the STARS participants.

That's cool. Why do you like supporting that particular ministry?
Because every time I see one of our STARS worshipping at church, singing songs, and clapping their hands with a huge smile on their face, I think that I get just a glimpse of Heaven. I just know that Heaven will be filled with all these beautiful people who know God, understand their own need for salvation, and believe in Jesus. It's a beautiful thing.

Really? You think they can know Jesus?
Absolutely. I've seen it. I've heard their testimony with my own ears. They know God's love and forgiveness just as much as I do.

What about church? Don't they ever interrupt the service?
Oh, sometimes it gets a little crazy or loud, but it's something we've all come to expect and to appreciate. You just never know what's going to happen. Wouldn't the world just be boring if everyone were "normal"?

Oops! I guess that was question number 20. A rhetorical one, but a good one, I think.

All I have to say about this morning is that even though it rained, even though I didn't run even half of the race, and even though I froze my sweet patooty off being drenched from head to toe, it was worth every minute to see the smiles on the faces of the STARS participants. They were so excited to hand out medals to the winners and to high five anyone who would high five them back.

The sun didn't shine outside this morning, but it sure shone in the faces of the STARS.

Buddies, Bears, and Big Lessons Learned

It occurred to me today that I haven't written about our little elementary school yet. It's been almost one whole year that I've been blogging, and yet not one mention of "The Little School With the Big Heart" (that's our motto--isn't it quaint?).

And there's so much to tell! I think I may have opened up a new section of blogging creativity in my brain--the Hawthorne room. Hmmm.

Let me just start by saying that one of the best decisions we ever made was to put our girls in Hawthorne School. It's a tiny little school--just two classes per grade--tucked into the middle of our neighborhood just two blocks from our house. I still meet people from across town who, when they hear that my kids go to Hawthorne say, "Oh yeah, Hawthorne. I've heard of it, but where is it?"

We kind of like it that way. Small, quaint, and not too easily accessible. It feels safe. We definitely like it that way.

Kate started at Hawthorne in first grade and everyone else progressed through its ranks from that point on. We've had some teachers three times, and all three girls had the same fourth grade teacher.

(I just realized that I could write several posts on that teacher alone! Of course, she could probably write VOLUMES about my three girls. I think she knows them better than I do, what with their Arnold Horshack "oooh, oooh, oooh! Call on me!" ways.)

One of the sweetest aspects of Hawthorne, even though there are so many, is how they pair up a 5th grader with a kindergartener as "buddies." All year long the buddies spend time together on special days, doing crafts, tye-dying shirts, playing games, learning how to t.p. the principal's house. You get the idea.

The kindergarteners have someone to look up to all year long, and the 5th graders get to feel like the big dogs of the school because some little kindergarten kid thinks they're cool. It's a win-win situation, really.

Plus, it gives the teachers a chance to run to Starbucks in the middle of the day when the kids are supposedly crafting together. Just kidding--the Starbucks is probably a little too far (although there is a drive thru!).

Anyway, today was the culmination of all the buddy-bonding activities that the kids had been through all year. It was the day most looked forward to since the first day of school. It was the Grand Puba of school days.

It was a field trip.

To the zoo, no less.

With 5th graders accompanying their kindergarten buddies.

Come to think of it, I'm not even sure whose field trip it was--5th grade or kindergarten--because they were all so excited about it.

Now that I have a 5th grader and she's the youngest in our family, it stands to reason that this is our last year at Hawthorne (more on that next week). And it also stands to reason that since this is Maggie's last field trip, I would be called upon to chaperone. Not by the teachers, mind you. The teachers could care less if I was there or not because they had about a 1:1 student:parent ratio of chaperones today. And, truth be told, I'm not that great of a chaperone. I tend to wander. I talk to the other adults too much. I don't pay great attention to the animals.

No, the person summoning my presence on the field trip was . . . no big surprise here . . . Maggie. A couple of weeks ago, in passing, she said something like, "Well, when we go on the zoo trip . . . blah, blah, blah." I don't even know what she said after that because my ears started ringing and I sort of lost my breath for a few minutes.

After I regained my composure, I subtly said, "Oh, Maggie, did you think I was going on your field trip to the zoo?"

"Well, sure, Mom," and then a long pause . . . "You were planning on going, weren't you?"

"Oh yeah, sure, Maggie. Let me just check the calendar to make sure I'm free that day."

"No, Mom, you don't have to go if you don't want to."

Ahhhh, there it was. The old you-don't-have-to-go-if-you-don't-want-to. Yeah, right.

"No, no, Maggie," I quickly recovered. "It's not that I don't want to go. I do want to go. I really do."

"No you don't, Mom. I can tell you don't want to go." How she could tell, other than my stuttering and stammering and my trying to get over the shock, I really don't know.

So the calendar was checked--completely empty--and arrangements were made for me to come along on the most-beloved year-end activity. The zoo field trip.

I only made one concession. I had to drive my own car. The bus would surely put me over the edge and I would never again be able to set foot on either school property or zoo property again. I would be scarred for life if I rode the bus, so I put my foot down on the driving arrangements.

Today was the day, and you know what? It was fun. I got to hang with Maggie and her little kindergarten buddy and a couple of other girls from Maggie's class and their buddies. It was so sweet to see the big kids act semi-responsibly . . . for the first half hour anyway.



And I learned some things at the zoo today.

(I guess you don't get disappointed that way.)

(I think a few of those 5th grade boys hang out in trees too.)

And remember kids:


But the best part happened toward the end of the day. For some reason Maggie's kindergarten buddy got revved up as the day went on. No, we didn't feed her Dippin' Dots or Gatorade or Fruit by the Foot. She just started movin' and groovin' as she got the hang of the zoo.

"Can we go see the zebras next?" And she'd run ahead.

"Hey! What's that over there?" More running ahead.

"Come on! Let's look at the aardvarks!"

Finally, Maggie just looked at me as her buddy ran on ahead, rolled her eyes and said, "Gee, Mom, now I know how you felt when we were little. It's tiring being a mom!"

To me, the day was a complete success.