Sesame Street

I'm a Sesame Street Kid. No, I wasn't on the show. I've never even been to New York, where I always assumed Sesame Street was. But I was raised in part by Sesame Street. I'll admit it. I watched it as a kid. And somehow it's the one show that no one denies. People might say they never watched Gilligans Island or the Brady Bunch, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, or the Shazam/Isis hour on Saturday morning. But nearly everyone I know that is my age cops to Sesame Street. We all saw it.

I really don't remember watching Sesame Street for myself. I DO remember watching with my younger sister. I remember "La, la, la, la Lemon." When on the way to the grocery store, sometimes I confuse my daughter by saying that we need a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter. I've wanted to attend a ladybugs picnic. I cried when Mr. Hooper died. I cried even harder when Jim Henson died. When he did, I knew I was a grown up. And I knew the world has lost one of its greatest magicians. One who could take a mundane object or concept, like a number, and make it fun. Who understood that in a child's world, magic happens every day, and animals talk, and not all monsters are scary.

So, I just wanted to say, Happy Birthday Sesame Street. And thank you for 40 years of magic.
And for all of you, one of my favorite Sesame Street moments:

Wednesday Night

And once again OrganicKid is cooking. Tonight it's rosemary and lemon roasted salmon with roasted asparagus with lemon butter. MMMMMMMM. I am SUCH a lucky mom to have such a talented kid.

And...she's also getting her musical chops. She's playing the double bass violin. Yes, the big thing. She's currently playing on a 1/2 size instrument, and it's STILL by far the hugest thing in our house! But she's definitely learning. Earlier tonight I was listening to Beethoven echoing through the house. I could recognize it. And it sounded good. There's a concert coming up in December, and I'm looking forward to it. I remember when I started playing the flute. I don't recall if I felt sympathy for my parents, but now I do. I KNOW when I first started, it was squeaky, and high pitched. It couldn't have sounded nice. But I practiced, and they put up with it. I feel so lucky that OrganicKid chose a nice mellow instrument. I don't think it can sound bad. Yeah, it can be a bit squeaky now an again. But the sound is so deep, and full, and, really, calming. I just hope all the other kids in the beginners orchestra is putting in the same practice time OrganicKid is, because I know she'd be disappointed if the concert doesn't sound that good because everyone else BUT her isn't as dedicated. I'm not too worried, though. One of OrganicKids pals is also in the orchestra, playing cello, and they're planning on getting together this weekend to practice, and perhaps enter a beginning strings competition. I'm certainly pulling for them! And I need to get a camera that does decent video before the concert. Because I know how my first concert probably sounded, and I want to be able to send the video to my mom, so she can compare it to the pain I put her through....

The New Chef of the House

Organic Kid has decided she wants to cook. She's made up her mind that one night a week, she will be the one to get dinner on the table. She decided this about a month ago, and for the last three weeks, Wednesday night is her night to cook. I'm there, helping if I'm asked to help, answering questions, lifting heavy things, being a second pair of hands. But I'm NOT planning menus, making grocery lists, or any of that. I'm somewhere below the sous chef. I'm the background noise. And I'm loving it.


Better yet, SHE'S loving it! And Organic Kid is really stretching; making dishes that I was afraid to even try until the past 5 or 10 years. She's making complex Indian dishes; Roghan Josh (with lamb no less, not even batting an eye and thinking of making it easier with a more familiar protein) and Chicken Korma. Last Wednesday, she went all out, and made not only the main course supplemented with an easy side like a salad, she made chicken stuffed with goat cheese and herbs, and asparagus with hollandaise. Yeah....Organic Kid made home made hollandaise. Emulsification at its most tricky, what with the raw egg and hot melted butter and all. And it did not curdle one bit. And it did not break one bit. It was a smooth, elegant sauce, with just the right vinegary tang meshed with the anise-y tarragon. Perfect hollandaise. Hells, I can't even do that consistently! And Organic Kid got it right the first time.

This morning, before school, she already started combing through cookbooks. She pulled out three different vegetarian ones (including the classic Moosewood Cookbook...Organic Guy came into our marriage bringing the first printing of that, to match with my classic 60's version of Joy of Cooking). Organic Kid isn't completely sure what the plan is yet for Wednesday. But she's planning something. And I for one can't wait!

It's All Good

Okay, I found a new festival. Organic Guy and I decided to forgo Bonnaroo this year. Ticket prices increased significantly, and yeah, like everyone else, we are trying to cut spending. But we couldn't fathom a music-less summer (especially Organic Guy who has attended at least one big festival concert every year since 2000 (maybe 1999, but he doesn't remember for sure). So we checked out All Good, in Masontown, West Virginia.

We all know the old joke about West Virginia, don't we? It's the only state where their motto is a question..."Almost Heaven? West Virginia?!?!???" And then I got to the camp site. And I saw this:

And I saw this:

And this little guy came to our screen room to visit:

We also saw That 1 Guy, and Yonder Mountain String Band, and moe. and Robert Randolph, and Ben Harper and the Relentless 7 and Umphrey's McGee.

I don't know about the rest of West Virginia, but for 4 days....yeah, almost heaven sounds about right.

Insurance Fools

Okay. Just last night, we finished cataloging the personal items lost in the fire. When an 800+ square foot building is primarily used for storage, it's AMAZING how much stuff is in there. We talked to the insurance guy about just a flat amount of money for rebuilding and replacing. We really didn't want to go into the personal items too much because it would take forever. We would have to sort through piles of rubble that had been pushed out of the Rec Room down the hill by the firefighters. We would have to photograph everything, showing the level of damage. We would have to look up many many things. The insurance guy said ITEMIZE! Okay. So we did it.

For the last 6 weeks (with one break for going to Allgood, and it was SO WELL WORTH IT! More on that later), Organic Guy (with the help of Organic Kid, 'til she went to visit her dad for the summer) dug through piles. Had clipboards and many notebooks. Wrote down many many things. Tried to find serial numbers. Looked for model information. Washed things that would just be thrown away, trying to determine what it was. For the past week, I've looked things up as Organic Guy read them off. Looked up replacement cost. Looked up auction prices for things that can't be replaced. Contacted an antique dealer we know and sent before-and-after pictures. Learned more about reloading equipment than I ever thought I'd need to know. Learned more about Organic Guy's mom's life before retirement, and decided I wanted to spend hours talking to her about her life (that woman is AMAZING!!), and getting it all written down, because she's been such an adventurous spirit her whole life. And then, I've been creating a huge spreadsheet.

Last night, at about midnight, while watching South Park re-runs (I LOVE South Park!!), we finished the list. And totaled it. And gasped. Every dollar figure can be backed up, we can look it up somehow (and I am SO GLAD I have family that works at Cabela's, because I thought of them while looking up stuff, so that became the source of dollar figures for all camping, hunting, reloading, fishing, pet gear, which comprises about a third to a half of the whole list). And we found out something important.

Insurance agents are fools. The agent that told us to itemize...yeah, okay, we did. And now that flat figure we suggested...umm...it's doubled. That's right. We WAAAYYYY underestimated the value of the stuff that was in the Rec Room. We underestimated HUGELY. They've already determined the construction cost. So this huge spreadsheet that we're sending today, it's all above and beyond that. Actually, the total of items exceeds the construction cost. We're anticipating getting challenged on some items. We now have BINDERS of information for any dollar figure found on the web. We have a Cabela's catalog to hand them. We will walk through Lowes and Home Depot with them. Like I said, every single number has something backing it. I think they're going to be very, very, very sorry they told a stubborn, detail-oriented, person who likes knowing ALL the rules because it's easier to figure out how to get around them to itemize.

The Fire

Okay, I mentioned it briefly, so here it goes. The Fire. With pictures. And background. This won't make any sense without the background.

Organic Guy's parents own about 10 acres of land in Wake County in NC. One of the borders is a creek that leads to a local lake that has great fishing. We can launch a canoe or kayak directly from the house, and paddle up to the lake. It's a beautiful spot, and one I spend a great deal of time at. The folks house has a carport that's about 3 cars wide; at the far side of the carport is essentially, a small apartment, built above 2 single-car garages that are sort of dug into the hillside below the house. That apartment has long been called the Rec Room, due to Organic Guy's dad's plan to put in a pool table and have poker nights back in the 70's. Never happened, but Organic Guy turned it into his own little place some time along when he was in high school. I've also mentioned that Organic Guy's folks are getting older, and we had been planning on moving to the 10 acres to make sure we're close by in case they need us. Recently, Organic Guy was retrofitting the place so that we could move in there for a short time until we built a new house for us. One or both of the single garages below would be turned into rooms (not something I was thrilled about, but workable), we'd be a bit tight for room, but it was only for about a year until the new place was built. One of the current uses for the place was to start our tomatoes and peppers for planting in the garden.

Organic Guy came home one night after working over there. Had dinner, played cards or something with Dani, went to bed. About 1 AM the phone rings. He grabs it, sits bolt upright, and jumps out of bed. All he says is "there's a fire" and he's out the door. When he gets home, smelling of smoke, looking exhausted, all he says is "The Rec Room is gone. It's gone. Everything is gone." I ask about the folks, and their house; all is fine there. No injuries, the fire never crossed the carport, so their house was not touched at all. That was the good news.

The bad news is that Organic Guy was not kidding. The Rec Room is gone. It now looks looks like this:

There was something wrong with the wiring on the light being used to grow the tomato transplants. Something sparked. Something caught. And it started burning. Organic Guy had many, many things stored in the Rec Room. Some of them were family antiques.

This was a family parlor organ, a pump organ from the Nineteen Teens. We think maybe 1913. It still had the original leather bellows on it. Still played. All the writing on the valves was still legible. I'm not entirely sure anyone every played it. It had belonged to Organic Guy's grandmother or great-grandmother.

This one is a glass-front hutch. We're not sure how old it is. The lower piece is all wood, pegs instead of nails, and the cabinet latch is simply a piece of wood that you turn. We think it's maybe from the 1850's or early 1860's. Fairly certain it belonged to Organic Guy's great-grandfather from before the War.

A few things that don't really hold an sentimental value, but where things that were used, things that we just had, for whatever reason. Organic Guy's Thorens turntable from college (and still played great!). These were a pair of hunting bows, and Organic Guy's creeper he used for changing oil and whatever other car stuff he did.

We lost camping gear (a family sized tent and a screen room, in addition to spikes, lanterns, camp stove...I still have my little dome tent, but that's it), a full Encyclopedia Britannica from 1925, of course all the tomato transplants, but worse, all the seed for summer direct seeding, and all my seed for fall crops (no broccoli, zucchini, butternut squash, or Brussels sprouts this year....). We found out weird things don't burn:

This is somewhat tough to see. But yes, those are cellophane wrapped starlight mints. The cellophane didn't melt, the mints still look pristine. And, in the bottom left corner of this picture, what so you see? Yes! Charcoal briquettes! They don't burn! The bag that had been holding them, the paper bag, GONE. No trace of it, but Organic Guy had just purchased two bags, one was stored on the patio by the grill, the other stored in the Rec Room.

So, for now, we're cleaning up. We're cataloging what's lost. We're working with the insurance guy. We're talking with some friends who are builders like Organic Guy, some he's known since high school, who want to help rebuild. We're finding the silver lining. Like we don't have to cram into a too-small space and build a bigger one. We can just find something to incorporate a new structures with the existing house, and not having 2 kitchens, and 2 washers and dryers, and 2 of all kinds of stuff no one needs two of. We're jettisoning lots of stuff. Losing things really made us realize how much things can hold a person down. Heck, why do I still have some college textbooks? We actually found out that between the two of us, we had (mostly in storage) three espresso makers, and 2 coffee grinders. And we're learning about the important stuff. The main part of the house is fine. Organic Guy's parents are fine. A little sad, like us, but fine. And the motorcycle. The one that's normally parked right outside the sliding door leading into the Rec Room...it was at our house that night. It had been a beautiful evening, and Organic Guy just happened to ride it home. We think it's a sign. So, stay posted...I'll be writing soon about the impending NC-NE-SD-ND-MN-IL-IN back to NC motorcycle trip we're planning for August. Seriously. We may be asking to flop on your couch.

Quick Update

I haven't typed anything recently. For anyone who tries to keep up with me here, I'm really sorry. In any event, big things going on.

I'm working on a post about a farm-to-fork conference I attended, a good event, with some sobering news.

Also, the little, temporary house that Organic Guy, Organic Kid and I were moving into, over on the 10 acres Organic Guy's parents own...that's not happening right now. For those that weren't aware, we were moving for a year or two to a 2-br apartment type place while Organic Guy built us a house on the land. He was remodeling the structure to make sure we all had some room. Earlier this week, it burned. We still aren't 100% sure what caused the fire, but the structure is a total loss. So, we're re-thinking plans, figuring out what was lost, and going from there. But for now, will be staying at the house we're renting now. I'll be typing about this, too.

Hopefully something real will be posted soon!

Love my Job

I really love my job. There are many many reasons for this. I enjoy working in the organic foods industry; it makes me feel like I'm doing something to preserve the Earth for OrganicKid and any of her potential children. I really care about many of the farmers that I come into contact with. I respect what they do. They're warm, funny, generous, dedicated folks.

I also really appreciate all my co-workers. They're a great bunch of people, who work hard, like to laugh, and know how to say thank you. They give me energy to keep going when I'm having a bad day, and understand when I'm in a good, goofy mood. I am so lucky to be working with this bunch.

But, I have to admit, one of the things I most appreciate is that I can do my job from my home in North Carolina. The head office for my company is in North Dakota. Somewhere between Fargo and Bismarck. Somewhere in a town with 7 churches and 3 bars. And... as of this winter, snow. They have snow. They have lots and lots and lots of snow. They have approximately 400% more snow than an average year. Yes. You read that right. 400%. Close to (if not above, by now) 100 inches of snow. Again, yes, you read that right. 100 inches of snow. I can't even imagine this. They're in the process of requesting to have fewer than the mandated 180 days of school. Because if they don't get this request, they may not have more than a week or two of summer. They've had to close school so often this year. So, what does 100 inches of snow look like? It looks sorta like this:

That's looking out my boss's front door. I'm not sure when they started avoiding using the front door. My guess is December. That's part of the problem. It started snowing in early November. And it really hasn't stopped. It hasn't gotten warm. Generally, North Dakotans can count on a warm snap some time in January, and another in February. One that starts the melting process. Oh, it'll snow again after those warm ups. And it'll get cold again. But it starts melting, so some of that snow goes away. This year it hasn't really happened. It hasn't warmed up. I was in California for a week in January with one of my North Dakota co-worker gals, Janine. It was 40 below zero the night before she left. That's air temp, not wind chill. The wind chill made it colder. Like 100 inches of snow, I can't even imagine this. I can't imagine what 40 degrees below zero would be like. Except damned cold. Colder than any human should have to even try to survive.

In March, finally things started warming up. But, when it gets warm, where does 100 inches of unmelted snow go? In North Dakota, it goes here:


That's right. It goes camping!

Here's the fun part...a few days after this photo was taken, guess what happened? Yeah. It snowed again. Happy days, man. I tell you, these North Dakotans are tougher than me. I couldn't hack it. So, what did I do when these poor folks I work with were dealing with snow, and floods, and more snow? I did this:

I went to an organic growers school in western North Carolina. Where a coat wasn't necessary. Where the sun was shining. Where the classes ended early enough each day to get some hiking in. Like I said, I love my job. But I think a good part of that is due to the fact that they don't make me live in North Dakota....

Terrified of Dirt

Okay, I'm not really scared of dirt. However, my mother is coming to visit. And I'm not a great housekeeper. I'm not the world's worst housekeeper, not by any stretch of the imagination. But I just don't like cleaning (granted, who does?), and I find things to do to avoid it. Like type up blog posts, or something.

However, like I said, my mother is coming to visit. So, of course, I have to clean. I spent this evening in the kitchen, doing dishes and trying to figure out where to put all the stuff that accumulates on the counter. Organic Guy was a great help, and organized the liquor and wine bottles. What a guy. Of course, he also brought home daffodils for me tonight, so he's really completely off the hook. Organic Kid cleaned her bedroom (whatta gal), and helped a bit in the kitchen too. And she got all her homework done early, and cleaned out her snake's aquarium, so she's definitely in my "great kid" column right now.

Ya know, the funny thing is, I'm struggling with how much cleaning I should do. I have a difficult relationship with my mom. I'm hoping this visit will mend some fences, will open up lines of communication. But at the same time, I don't know how much I want to disrupt my normal routine. I mean, I do laundry so that we have clean clothes, and get those put away. I do the dishes and wipe down counters and sweep and vacuum. But if books or papers get piled on the counter, I don't worry about it too much, and put them away when I get a chance. If those little pan thingies under the burners aren't sparkling, I don't worry about it. I clean them when I clean the oven. I pile newspaper on the corner of the fireplace, and take out whole bunches of recycling at once. I don't stress over dusting. Actually, I consider dust a historical reference point. If I dusted, how would I know where things go? Not dusting leaves a good reference! I keep the food put away, but the counter may have a toaster and a cutting board and a blender on it. Right now, I'm thinking I should clean it all. Everything should sparkle. But I also want my mom to accept my life as it is.

So. I think I'll just keep doing what I'm doing....avoid it all while creating a new blog post. Elegant answer to a unsolvable situation, n'est-ce pas?

Grey and Good

I woke up this morning, and it was dark. It shouldn't have been, there should have been the first morning light peeping through the window. I thought, maybe I just woke up extra early. Jumped in the shower, and figured it would be light when I got out. Nope, still dark.

Figuring I just wasn't awake, I wandered into the kitchen, and thought of making coffee. That's when I heard it. That plink, plink, plink sound. Stared out the window (into the darkness). Realized the darkness was just clouds. The plinking was rain. Slow, soaking, ground-drinking rain. So very beautiful!

I finished getting the coffee going, walked slowly in the rain to get the paper, came back in, got steaming coffee, sat down and closed my eyes. Savored that plinking sound, that feeling of rain water seeping through my hair to my scalp. Licked my lips, tasting the raindrops there. Listened and listened to that plinking sound.

I love the rain. And now that the spring garden is all planted, I love it all that much more. It's so perfect, such a long soaking rain after planting so many good veggies. And perfect for a quiet Friday at home, just me and my coffee.

And the sound of the falling rain.

Not So Long Ago

Saint Patrick's Day. I've always loved that holiday. Its always been about spending good times with good friends. And I vividly remember the anticipation leading up to Saint Patrick's in 1998. The day was circled in green (of course) on the calendar. I had a doctor's appointment on a Friday shortly before St. Patricks. I remember how he told me to take it easy. There was a big winter storm blowing up, and I didn't need to be out and about. Of course, I believed that he meant it was perfectly fine for me to go shoot pool with my husband (the one at that time, not OrganicGuy), and my buddy Mark. I'd known Mark since I'd been a wee snot-nosed brat in 9th grade. He's still a good friend, and one great guy.

While playing pool, we started talking about plans for St. Patrick's. I demurred, saying I would likely be busy. Mark and the husband started talking about another friend, Jason, and his idea for trick-or-treating for St. Patricks. You know...go door to door, and ask for treats. Yeah, I know what you're all thinking...didn't you say St. Patricks, not Halloween? Saint Paddys with the green beer and leprechauns and all that? Yes, I did say that. And you would generally be right.

But you may not know Jason. He's a 6'6" redhead, who has a killer Irish accent. He wanted to go door to door claiming to be a leprechaun, and that the house we were at was hiding his pot 'o' gold. He went on like this for a while, making all of us laugh. "Where's me pot o gold?" he'd cry. He'd answer himself too..."Hey buddy (spoken in a flat Nebraskan accent), ain't'cha kinda tall to be a leprechaun?" "Oh-Hoo," (Jason again, Irish again) "And ain't'cha a bit of a thief and all, stealin' me gold, to be claimin' to know about leprechauns." On and on it went. Until, finally, he did it...he knocked lightly on my stomach, and said "You in there, you haven't seen a pot o gold, have ye? Is there a pot o gold in your mummy's belly???" Yes, he was talking to my soon-to-be-born child. The one that was due on Saint Patrick's Day. I laughed. I gasped for air. I begged him to stop. I laughed some more. I bitched about how pregnant women are incontinent, with pea-sized bladders, and raced to the bathroom. Okay, I waddled. Not much racing at 9 months pregnant.

Anyhow, it did snow that weekend. And snow and snow. The previous October, we'd had one of the most damaging snowstorms Lincoln Nebraska had ever seen. 24+ inches of wet snow, on trees that hadn't lost leaves yet. Massive power outages, schools closed for a full week. This storm, the March storm, the one to create a perfect bookend for the October storm, wasn't quite as bad. Only about 15 inches of snow. Started on Saturday, kept going for about half of Sunday. I spent the weekend on the couch stroking the belly and saying "If you just wait until Daddy has the drive cleared, I promise I will take you out to eat anywhere you want for your 16th birthday present." She listened; Dad got the drive cleared Sunday night. Went to work Monday AM. Went home Monday PM. Had supper. Got up from the couch to put some dishes in the sink, and woosh. Uh...honey...that moment can seem such a cliche, but that's exactly what I felt. Honey, the water broke. No, not the sink...yeah, get the keys. I've got my bag.

And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Monday night turned into Tuesday morning. And Tuesday afternoon. With the help of a great hospital staff, and good drugs, the then-husband and I wiled away the hours debating the various strengths and weaknesses of each bracket of the NCAA tourney (hey, don't be like that...it WAS right after Selection Sunday, and I've always been a sports geek!). And then, at 6:15 the Tuesday night (and yes, I'm leaving out the details, believe me you don't want any more details), OrganicKid made her presence known to the world. All red, and screaming, and irritated at being bugged by all these people she didn't know. And just beautiful. Perfect little fingers and fingernails. The perfect size, the perfect shape. And I was immediately in love.

It's now 11 years later. OrganicKid is now pretty much as tall as me (she loves this fact), wears my shoes and shirts to school as often as she thinks she can get away with. She's blond and blue-eyed, tall and slender, funny, bright, creative, and I'm in awe of her every day. I couldn't imagine life without her in in. And I firmly believe the world is a better place, because OrganicKid is a part of it.

She's goofy, she's getting to be a great cook, and I'm so proud of her. And I was right. I was kinda busy that Saint Patrick's Day. I was learning how to be a mom worthy of such a great kid.

Happy birthday OrganicKid. And just remember, all your life long, your mom loves you.

Once a Month

Okay, now it's time for my monthly blog update. Let's see...what has happend since last post? The garden's been started (planted peas, asparagus crowns, and potatoes, need to get lettuce and radishes in). Work has been busy, been to Canada, to California, to Rocky Mount (okay, that's in NC), going to Boone, Asheville and North Dakota soon. OrganicKid turns 11 (tomorrow!! eek!), can wear my shoes, and is nearly as tall as me.

Oh, yeah. I joined facebook. because I'm an idiot. because janda convinced me. because i have an overwhelming need to feel like I'm in junior high, and not one of the cool kids. because i've heard that it's a great way to reconnect with people. Okay, that last one is true. I've reconnected with some amazing folks from my past, and been happy to have done so. So, if you actually read this, and if I have facebook-ed you down already, and you want to friend me (and I still believe that friend should NEVER EVER be a verb), feel free!

Super Sunday

I love the Super Bowl. Seriously. I love the over-the-top-ness of it all. I love the hype, the maniacal fans, the pedantic announcers, the crazy anticipation of the commercials. Love it all.

Used to love it more in the 80's and 90's of course, back when my team won more often. They've been "rebuilding" for so long, they damned will better have the Taj Mahal when the decide they're done "rebuilding" and actually try, I don't know, try playing, maybe!?

But yesterday, boy, what a game. Actually a competitive, edge-of-your-seat game! Okay, maybe that edge-of-seat part was only the fourth quarter. But it WAS great. And I was pulling for the Steelers (don't like the Cards, have never liked the Cards. No reason why, just don't.). So, all in all, a great day for me.

But, really, being able to cook munchies and call them dinner, man, that's part of the greatness of it all. I mean, take a look at this:



Steak bites, with a red wine and rosemary sauce. All you need is a toothpick, and grab these bite-sized babies. OH MY. So much meaty goodness.

Or this:



Bacon-wrapped jalapeno thingies. Hot, bacon-y, spicy, creamy. These equal love. Okay, more than 5 of these equal love and a need for ANOTHER ice-cold beer. But, boy, love should be this hot and spicy, shouldn't it??!!

Also, my OrganicGuy made these:



Okay, so the picture is pre-cooking. But yep, home made buffalo wings. 'Cuz what's a football game without 'em? And throw in some home made guacamole, and some sort of dip that OrganicGuy makes with chili and cheese and some mole sauce, and chipotles, and I don't know what all else (but it's really tasty). That's what we called supper. Nice, eh? Bar food at home!

And some great football. Super, indeed.

The Newness of it All

I LOVE New Year's Day. Maybe even more than I like New Year's Eve. Before moving to NC, I spent every adult New Year's Eve with my best buddies. Always with Lori and Matt, Maralee and Jeff. Sometimes Mark would be there. Sometimes Joe. Sometimes they would have dates. Jess came into the mix a bit later. Sara (home from Iraq, and girl, SO glad you're back in NE safe!!) I think right before I moved.

We always did the same thing...let the dads have quality time with their daughters (after they were born), while the gals would go shopping for a sparkly, shiny, New Year's Eve-y perfect outfit. We'd go to dozens of stores, try on hundreds of things, and then go home, nap, and then make ourselves beautiful. Then dinner out somewhere, and then, for many years, to Libations for martinis and cigars until the New Year rang in. So much fun. So much dancing. So many drinks.

This year, not so much. Organic Kid is getting over a cold. Organic Guy is experiencing the same stress EVERY general contractor is in the current economy, so he has terrible insomnia. We stayed home. Organic Guy went to bed about 8:30. Organic Kid and I played many, many games. Pente. Stratego. National Geographic Geo Bee. Rummy. Yahtzee. At 11-ish, we turned on the TV to make sure we didn't miss the big event. At about 11:45, Organic Guy came out to the living room. We all piled into the big purple chair, and snuggled each other for a happy New Year.

Then, today. This has been great. Relaxed. More games to be played. A big breakfast of waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon. Coffee and/or hot chocolate. Organic Guy put on a pork loin to roast, and is currently making the collards and black eyed peas for a traditional southern New Year's dinner. And, best of all, this:



I still love my Huskers. And the whole first half of the Gator Bowl, they made me sweat. But they pulled it off, and my house was ringing with "Go Big Red!!" and "HENERY!!" (we love the kicker 'round here, for some reason)

Happy New Year, y'all. Health and happiness and wishes coming true for all of you.