Comfort Me With Apples

Jeff and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary in August.  Our kids put together a slide show and they honored us at church and gave us a beautiful gift.  Then we went out for dinner at Oregon's only 5-star restaurant, The Painted Lady, which happens to be right in Newberg!  It was fabulous...more than just a meal...a culinary experience for all 5 senses.  We loved it.   Then, this weekend we went back to the Columbia Gorge Hotel, where we got engaged, spent our wedding night, and our 5th anniversary.  We plan to celebrate in some way each season of the year...thoroughly enjoying our anniversary and making it memorable.

Since we enjoy going to the Hood River Apple Festival, we thought we'd plan our fall celebration around that, since our engagement and wedding night hotel just so happens to be in Hood River.  The weather forecast wasn't in our favor, but somehow we danced around the rain the whole weekend!  The clouds parted for us as soon as we entered the gorge, and by the time we had checked into the hotel the sun was shining.  We took advantage of that and went for a walk through the beautiful and extensive gardens surrounding the hotel...and down to the waterfall where Jeff proposed more than 25 years ago.  It's still beautiful.  I think Jeff did an amazing job picking that spot...especially considering that "back in our day," big, spectacular proposals weren't the trend they are now.  (I actually feel sorry for young couples who have to bear the pressure of coming up with a bigger, better bang of a proposal because it has to be shared with 1000 of their Facebook friends and a million strangers on You Tube!  I was so not like that when I was 21.  In fact, after Jeff asked me to marry him but before he could kiss me, I made him walk with me away from the waterfall, which was the focal point for the diners in the hotel restaurant above us, because I didn't want my first kiss to be viewed by an audience of strangers!  But I guess things are different now!

After walking, we went for a delicious dinner and then the rain began to fall.  But that was actually quite nice, because our room had a fireplace.  So Jeff worked on his sermon and I read (I always bring a pile of projects to work on whenever I travel, but this time I caught up on pleasure reading!).  Then we ate popcorn and watched a movie in bed (which is something we can't and would never do at home because we don't and never will have a TV in our bedroom), and then we did what we always do before going to sleep...

We read our Bibles together.  Yep.  I'm totally serious.  How do you think you stay happily married for 25 years? 






I woke at 6:30 as usual.  I contemplated the luxury of sleeping in, but then I thought of all I wanted to do before check-out, so I slipped quietly out of bed, got dressed, grabbed my camera, and headed outside into the barely-dawn, fresh-washed morning...and was instantly glad I didn't sleep in.  By the time the sun had fully risen I was ready for breakfast.  So I went back to my room and made a pot of french-pressed coffee and ate yogurt, berries and granola.  Then, while Jeff headed out for his coffee (home-brewed is never good enough for him), I took a bubble bath in the big, deep, old-fashioned tub!  That is also something I never do.  And I set my laptop on the little marble side table and played soothing music, and I read!  I honestly can't remember the last time I did that...10 years?  After that long, luxurious bath there was still time to sit by the fire and read some more, although Jeff made me turn off my music when he returned.  He hates my soft, girlie, romantic music...almost as bad as Christmas music!  (See why we read our Bibles every night?  We just might argue over turning off the Christmas music if we don't!)

We checked out at 11 and took the beautiful scenic highway up the mountain and into the Hood River Valley.  We decided we should pick apples first, because the clouds were banking towards the south.  It was easy picking, but the fruit was cold and wet after a night of rain and my gloves were soon soaked.  But I ate one of those rain-washed, night-chilled apples right off the tree, and I honestly think it might have been the best apple I've ever eaten!  From there we drove over to the Apple Valley Country Store for some cherry-wood smoked ribs, truly fall-apart tender!  By this time a brisk breeze had started up.  Although it definitely made the air chilly, it also stirred up all the bright leaves and whirled them around us like colorful ticker-tape.  It was so quintessially fall!  We browsed the store to warm up and bought a marionberry hand-pie because we hadn't eaten enough lunch, and then drove all the way back into town and down to the river to the apple festival grounds where we searched to no avail for apple-cider donuts.  Disappointed, we got a coffee for the road and headed home as the first rain drops fell.  By the time we hit the highway, it was pouring.  We were pretty pleased with our timing!  As we were nearing home, I remembered a pumpkin patch I had visited once with my mom that served both apple-cider donuts and pumpkin-spice donuts, so we made a side-stop there and found sweet success!  And the rain let up just at that moment!  When we got home, it started pouring again...then hailing!  But now it felt great to be cozy in the house with a cup of tea and a box full of apples waiting to be sliced into pie.  We ate the warm donuts with the kids and settled comfortably back into routine.  Perfect fall day...perfect fall anniversary celebration!

The Changing Seasons

We had a very long and lovely summer...pretty much 3-1/2 months without any measurable rain and day after day after day of warm sunshine and clear blue skies.  (I imagine that's what it must be like year-round in San Diego!)

Summer is my favorite season.  I am a sun-worshipper (and now have hyperpigmentation all over my face to prove it!).  I love weather in the 80s.  I love jogging very early on already bright, sunny mornings.  I love the continual fruit harvest of strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, peaches and blackberries.  I love eating my lunch on the patio.  I love making sun-tea.  I still love a good tan.  I love barbequeing (well, I love it when Jeff or the boys barbeque for us!).  I go crazy at the farmer's market.  I love the long hot days that slide like silk into warm, balmy evenings.  I love the sound of crickets chirping by moonlight.  And I love my air conditioning that makes the heat so bearable!!

This September was the driest on record.  And the first two weeks of October were also amazing.  I greedily soaked up every nice day, truly enjoying and savoring the seemingly endless summer.

Then the forecast gave us a 4-day warning that rain was coming in a 1-2-3 punch...storm #1 on Friday, storm #2 on Sunday and storm #3 on Monday.

Sometimes wishful thinking keeps us in denial, or sometimes we just procrastinate because we don't enjoy what's to come.  But I took the weatherman at his word and heeded the warning by putting away summer and taking out fall.  For the next three days after the storm was announced, I was in the yard as soon as my work shift ended.  I dug up the weeds, pruned the shrubs, pressure-washed the patio, packed up the cushions to the lawn furniture, cleaned the garage, covered the fire-pit, scrubbed down the grill, washed the sliding glass door, cleaned the leaves out of the vents, hosed down the garbage cans and put away the summer sports equipment.  Then, on the day the storm was to hit, I got up early to get in my run before the rain arrived.

I stepped outside ready to run but stopped, awed for a moment by what I saw...the sky was a swirl of colorful clouds, the rosy pink of sunrise colliding with the dark gray of the gathering storm.  I turned right around and ran inside to grab my camera and then ran quickly out of my neighborhood to the open field and trails where the view was better.  This is what surrounded me:

Fall was falling!  I was witnessing the very moment that summer ended.  Instead of the wistful feeling I expected, I felt privileged to watch the changing of the seasons.  Every season is beautiful and has its place...even the seasons of life.  Although our leaves are still mostly green, that definitive moment of the battle of Gray vs. Blue made summer's retreat and autumn's victory quite obvious. The first drops of rain hit my face as I finished my run and jogged up to my doorstep.  I showered and changed clothes and met a friend for some Stumptown at one of my favorite coffee shops.  As we walked outside, latte in hand, and breathed in that sweet, fresh, damp air, I remarked on the fall fragrance of rain and woodsmoke...and out of my own mouth came these words:  "I love it."

And then suddenly it was okay to bid summer goodbye and welcome autumn, with all it's own delicious, fragrant, and lovely gifts...the apples, cranberries and hazelnuts, yummy meals that simmer slowly, vibrantly colored leaves that sprinkle the sky with confetti and crunch so satisfyingly underfoot, a tart breeze that makes cozy clothes feel wonderful, fires and candles, rain on the rooftop, and something warm in my cup.

Welcome, Fall!  I've been waiting for you!

To Blog or Not To Blog

That is the question.

Since my last post almost 2 months ago, my schedule has spun into high gear and I just haven't had the time to sit down, think, and write.

Today I felt like I was starting to catch up on life, so I thought I might blog something short and sweet.  But when I logged on and looked at my blog, I saw what they call "stats."  After almost  a year of blogging I only have 20 followers.  My last entry had only 30 readers.  So either I have to step it up and put in a whole lot more effort to be relevant, interesting and follower-worthy, or I have to give it up and say bye to the blog.  I certainly have more than enough projects to fill my days, so letting go wouldn't leave me lacking fulfilment in any way.  But I have to say that many times I really enjoyed blogging.  Sometimes my head would be filled with stories and anecdotes that I couldn't wait to share.  It was fun to see my life through the eyes of my readers...and insightful too.  I learned a bit about myself, and I learned a bit about others who chose to comment, compliment or commiserate when they could relate.

And thus the dilemma.

Maybe it's just called writer's blog (I mean, block!). Or maybe I need a blog with a better interface...you know, buttons to click, links to follow, gorgeous graphics, give-aways, video clips, music and reader interaction.  Or maybe I should forget the blog and write a book...no technology needed there!

So what is the answer to my multiple-choice question?  Maybe I'll sleep on it...

Toy Story Too

I am not a "cryer." If I get a little teary, that's pretty emotional for me. But there are two movies that make my throat get tight and my eyes tear up, and they are "Up" and "Toy Story 3." Actually, I refuse to even watch the beginning of "Up" anymore. And it's the end of Toy Story 3 that caught my emotions by surprise. Who would ever think that it would be kid-movies that touch me the most? I guess there's something very relateable about the big transitions of life, which is the common theme in those two movies, especially when you're experiencing them yourself!

On the very same day this week, one of my kids left for two weeks working in Portland (that's minor, really), another one moved back to campus after the summer off (I'll still see him on weekends, so that's pretty minor too), and my youngest boarded a plane for Bosnia...for the whole school YEAR! (that's major).

Kate is part of a foreign exchange program called YES Abroad, sponsored by the U.S. Department of State. She applied as one of over a thousand students and was selected as one of the 100 semi-finalists, based on good grades, extracurricular activities, community involvement, and interest. She flew to Denver for a weekend of interviews (one in English, one in French) and group activities where she was observed for things like initiative, adaptability, confidence, positive attitude, problem-solving, leadership, friendliness, etc. Then 52 semi-finalists were selected into the program, and Kate was among them.

She was ecstatic.

Actually, I was too. Mixed with a feeling of, "Oh, no, what have I done?"

I wanted her to go. It was a deep desire of mine when I was her age, but alas, my mother would not let me. I begged my mom to at least take a foreign exchange student, but she didn't want to do that either. Four years later my younger cousin took off for a year in Chile, and the experienced changed her life. She went on to travel in Europe where she met her future her husband. Her first child was born in Austria. She translated for refugees. Then she moved back to the States and now works as a foreign exchange student coordinator, placing hundreds of students every year into homes, hosting a new student herself every year, and travelling all over the world with her organization to connect with the countries they work with. My mom, who was such a chicken when I was young, has actually taken in quite a few foreign students since I left home and keeps in contact with many of them to this day. And we have also hosted many students in our own home from all over the world. So when Kate expressed the desire to go, it didn't surprise me and I supported her wholeheartedly.

Last year she was a Rotary short-term exchange student to France. I loved that program...she spent 6 weeks of the summer in France and then brought her host sister home with her to spend the next 6 weeks of the summer with us. It went by quickly, and all through her absence we were looking forward and getting ready for her return with her French sister. We had a wonderful time with the girls, touring all over the western U.S., seeing and experiencing new things, as well as old things made new through the eyes of someone who had never seen or done those things before. Food was more fun! Scenery was more beautiful! Even grocery shopping was exciting! And cooking together was a riot! I tried roasting rabbit via Skype with our host daughter's mother in France, an excellent cook who coached us through preparing the carcass and braising it to perfection. And then when the 6 weeks were done, we "bisous"ed goodbye and went back to routine life as school started the very next day.

But this time, there is no school. No senior year to enjoy. No awards and activities. No school lunches to make. No after-school chats. Just a clean, quiet house and my job and the cat. I feel just a little cheated of our last year together before she was to leave for college. Oh, well. Such is the lot of a mother.

As I watched Kate sort through 17 years of her life and place things in bins labeled, "Throw Away," "Give Away," "Dorm," "Keep" and "Pack," I felt an odd churning of emotion within me. Excitement, anticipation, dread, uncertainty, pride, sorrow, happiness, loneliness, nervousness, confidence...mixing all that with funny dreams and a flurry of activity produced within me---I'm not sure what to call it. Perhaps it doesn't even have a name. Every mother experiences it at some time...it's an inevitable and expected season of parenting. It's "Letting Go." They want to go. We have to let them. And I'm not talking about letting them as in giving them permission, but letting them as in taking our hands off, dropping our expectations, erasing our agenda, ending our plans, silencing our commands and thrusting them forward into their own expectations, agenda and plans...with a smile and a blessing.

So back to Toy Story. As she stood over the 5 bins of her life, she dropped in item after item:  This part of her childhood could be thrown away. This part of her childhood could be shared with another. This part of her childhood would transition to her new life. This part of her childhood would be reserved for future use as an adult. And this part of her childhood had no use except to give her pleasant memories of happy times, special people and proud accomplishments of the past. Some of the things that she lightly tossed aside into the "Give Away" or "Throw Away" box made me long to reach out and grab them back..."Kate, you don't want this anymore?" I was the one with the sentimental attachment! Other things she longingly held as she debated where to place it and I would say, "Oh, Kate, you'll never use that again," and she would reluctantly set it aside. Some things we both agreed were precious and needed to be tucked safely away. Other things we laughed over, hardly able to believe that she had once used it or loved it or made it. And as boxes were filled, I had the Toy Story feeling of her toys crying out, "Don't put us in the box! Take us with you!" Or maybe it was just me whispering, "Don't put me in a box! Take me with you!" And maybe that's why the movie gets me every time. It's not the toys, it's the mother that is neatly boxed up and labeled...not "Give Away," not "Throw Away," not "Future," not "Dorm," and certainly not "Pack," but "Save."

Save for what? Well, the day we put Kate on the plane she had a visa problem. I'm the one who pulled out my cell phone and found the number of the person who had authority to put her on the plane. Then that made us late and the security line was long and she was at risk of missing her flight. I was the one who ran back to the counter and grabbed an airline rep to escort her through security ahead of the line and get her to her gate. Then when we chatted online after she arrived, she told me her stomach had been acting up, full of butterflies. Half an hour later, surprised, she told me they were gone and said how calming it was to talk to her mom. So mothers go into the "Save" box...saved for advice, comfort, prayer, counsel, support, encouragement and approval in times of uncertainty, discouragement, sorrow or confusion as our children navigate their way into adulthood.

So I'm not the nurturer, the cuddler, the playmate, the discipliner, the nourisher, the authority, the decision-maker or the mommy any more. I'm saved for other needs.

Your children are always your children, no matter their age. They will always need you--- maybe not as often as you like or in the way that you are used to, but you are needed...and loved...

and even

a tiny

bit

missed...

One of Kate's many piles left behind

Not the greatest picture because of the
light behind her and our great rush
to get her on the plane, but
there she goes!!

Dixie Land Delight

I was very surprised to see that the last time I blogged was almost a month ago!  I've thought about blogging but just haven't been able to actually sit down and pound out some words on the keyboard.  After the 4th of July, my summer (usually the epitome of relaxation) became very busy.  My sister went to the hospital one night in excruciating pain with severe nausea and vomiting...medically speaking, it is called "intractable nausea and vomiting," which means it just doesn't stop.  She was there 8 days before they decided to discharge her without a definitive diagnosis.  In the meantime, her kids, ages 6 and 7, were being farmed out to various neighbors and church friends, passed back and forth based on the availability of the kind and helpful people who reached out to them.  After some discussion and prayer, we felt it would be good for me to fly to Virginia to stay with the kids and hopefully help my sister through her convalescence stage.  We booked my trip---a red-eye flight---for just two days later.  I worked hard the next day getting my life in order and my family ready for my abscence.  The next day after that I packed, and then we headed into Portland to attend a wedding rehearsal, which ended just in time for me to catch the 10 p.m. flight to Virginia.

It was just a few months ago that I flew on an all-night trip to Brazil, so I had my gear and knew the routine.  I selected a window seat so I could have something to lean my pillow against (rather than my neighbor's shoulder!).  I pulled out my special travel blanket with wings (ha ha!) and snuggled into it, then blew up my special curved pillow, and waited for the lights in the cabin to be lowered.  Well, they were lowered but only during take-off.  As soon as we reached cruising altitude, lights began popping on all over the plane.  Laptops came out and iPads started playing movies.  What?  Why wasn't everyone going to sleep?


"This is an all-night flight, people!" I felt like saying out loud.


I had neglected to bring my mask and ear plugs because I really didn't think I would need them, since I remembered how dark and quiet the flight to Brazil was.  I certainly needed them on this flight.  It seemed no one was interested in sleeping but me!

Needless to say, I arrived in Charlotte at 3 a.m. my time (6 a.m. east coast time) feeling like I was in a dream as I walked the brightly lit airport corridors to catch my next flight.  All I remember about Charlotte is the white wooden rocking chairs scattered throughout the airport.  Charming, really.  It made me wish I could see the city.  Maybe I'll go back one day!  I found my gate and then ducked into the restroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and reapply my make-up so I'd look and smell okay when I landed in Richmond.

Richmond was expectedly humid, but even when expected somehow it still surprises me.  My brother-in-law was there to meet me and we loaded my carry-on and work bag into the car (I was so proud of myself for packing carry-on only for this trip; I've never managed to accomplish it before!).  We wound through the Virginia roads lined with thick trees on either side.  There are no hills, just long stretches of trees, trees, trees.  It's very pretty and lush, but kind of claustrophobic as you can never see a vista.  It always feels to me as if we are driving through a corn maze, only instead of corn stalks it is tall trees.  We arrived at my sister's house with two very excited kids waiting for me.  I haven't seen my niece and nephew since they were very small, so I was just as excited as they were.  My sister met us at the door looking pale but happy, and we settled in for a visit as well as a time of show-and-tell with the kids, who couldn't wait to share with me their favorite toys, drawings, books and games.  Then I had my own show-and-tell, bringing my suitcase into the family room to pull out the presents I had brought from home and from Grammy.

Our days went smoothly.  I cooked and cleaned for my sister and played with the kids.  Then one evening the pain and nausea returned, so off to emergency she went again.  Now I was on my own.  The kids were hilarious, telling me where to find things and how to do it.  Everything I did seemed to be punctuated with, "Mommy doesn't do it like that."  "Mommy puts that here."  "Mommy says we can do this."  "Mommy says..."  I forgot about the days when your kids actually cared about what you thought and how you liked things done!  I told them that Mommy would have to go on a treasure hunt after I left because I was going to put things in the wrong place many times while I was there!

The days were long, and I wanted to keep the kids busy.  My inclination was to head outside and go to the playground or on a walk through the beautiful trail system surrounding my sister's subdivision.  But it was so darn hot and humid!  We started each day early...breakfast and then out the door, trying to beat the heat, but the heat always won.  It just never seemed to cool down there, not even at night.  And the humidity made it almost unbearable.  But we had fun tromping through the woods down to the reservoir, catching frogs and climbing over logs and taking lots of pictures (after spraying ourselves against the ticks and mosquitoes that were thick in that subtropical climate).  We always arrived home exhausted and very sweaty.  So a long drink of a water and splashing in the kiddie pool were next on the agenda.  Then lunch, then a project to work on for the afternoon or an excursion, like the library, Wal-Mart, and frozen yogurt.  Then it was dinner and some TV time, and finally my favorite part of the day...reading before bed.  I did this with all of my kids for years and enjoyed it just as much as they did.  I was sad when those days were over, but here I was years later with two kids tucked cozily into bed while I sat in the comfy chair beside them and read out loud by the soft evening light.

One night as I read, I just kept sweating.  I wondered why it seemed as though I had never cooled down after our long walk that morning.  Then my nephew complained, "Auntie Karyn, I am so hot!"  "Really?" I said.  "So am I.  We'd better check the air conditioning."  Sure enough, it was 79 degrees in the house.  We figured out how to "re-boot" the air conditioning system and that was good enough to cool us to sleep, but I woke around 5 a.m. sweating in my bed and I knew we were in trouble.  My brother-in-law came home later that day and worked on it for over an hour to no avail.  By now the house was really cooking after another full day without air conditioning in 100-degree weather.  So my brother-in-law told us to pack up because we were going to a hotel.  We stopped at the hospital on our way to visit my sister, and she was looking so much better!  It was good to see her with color in her cheeks.  Then the kids and I got settled in our beautiful hotel room while my brother-in-law returned to the hospital to sleep in the recliner in my sister's room.  He promised me he found it quite comfortable, but I felt a little twinge of guilt in our spacious hotel room with all the amenities!

The next day we had breakfast in the lobby and then walked next door to Starbucks for two kids' hot chocolates and a latte for me, then went to the pool where we hung out for the next few hours, splashing away the hot day and having a wonderful time.  I honestly don't remember the last time I "played" in the pool!  How fun to dive for items on the bottom and do handstands in the water.  I even tried a backflip underwater, which I accomplished, but felt incredibly dizzy and disoriented doing it!  Too old!

When we returned from the hotel, my sister arrived home shortly after.  She was so much better!  They'd had found the cause of her pain, which was what they called "a rare and severe allergic reaction" to a new medication she had just started.  They took her off the offending drug and started her on a different one, and she quickly returned to near normal by the time I left. 

We squeezed in some quality time in our last 24 hours together before I was to leave.  We drove out to the country to Jimer's frozen custard stand, a little red-and-white striped stand that served up sweet and delicious Georgia Peach frozen custard, the perfect southern treat!  Then we went to this fun district called Carytown and shopped and had treats and ate lunch and toured beautiful Monument Street and had a wonderful time laughing and enjoying each other.

And then it was airport time.  The best part about leaving was that I could say, "See you next month!" because they had already planned a trip to see us in Oregon before all this had taken place.

Once the good-bye hugs and kisses were over and I was through security, all I wanted then was just to be home.  The first part of the trip to Dallas was uneventful, but when we landed my whole weekend changed.  Apparently, we had just missed some very violent storms that had caused the airport to close for a few hours.  You'd never guess it by looking outside...the sun was shining fiercely and it was 105 degrees!  But there were 70 planes sitting on the tarmac waiting to unload their passengers, and we were one of them.  We waited for an hour in the plane that grew increasingly hot and stuffy, until finally we were able to get off...and then I found out that my connecting flight to Portland had been cancelled.  Thus began the l-o-n-g night.

Dallas is a huge airport, so I boarded the sky train and rode to the other side of the terminal.  There I stood in line until 11 p.m. waiting to get a new flight home.  Well, that one didn't leave until the next day and wouldn't arrive in Portland until 11 the next night, after a 6-hour lay-over in Houston!  I took it only because I had to, then wearily pulled my luggage behind me as I headed back to the sky train, because my new gate was on the other side of the airport where I had first arrived.  By the time I arrived at my gate it was close to midnight.  They were handing out red blankets and cots because there were literally thousands of people stranded there for the night.  Later my mom told me the news said 200 flights were cancelled and 140,000 people were stranded or delayed.  That is the population of a good-size city!  I spent the next hour trying to nab myself a cot.  First they were over at that gate, then over at that gate...no, that gate!  I ended up back at the original gate and saw a stack of them loaded onto an airport motorized cart with people swarming it.  I was just about to lift one off when someone called, "Don't take those! They are going to another part of the terminal."  I wanted to shout, "But I need one here!!"  But I kept my cool and asked, "Well, could you bring me one because I have been looking everywhere for one."  Others weren't so cool.  People were hot, tired and frustrated...and desperate for those cots!  I felt like I was at a refugee camp!  Everywhere you looked were bodies....in chairs, on the floor, on cots, wrapped in red blankets, trying to sleep in that very bright and noisy airport.  I picked the least-lit corner I could find and set up my cot.  Then I wrapped myself in my travel blanket, blew up my travel pillow, tucked my luggage between my cot and the window, put my blanket over my eyes and tried to fall asleep.  I couldn't.  That cot was nothing more than a piece of mesh stretched tightly across a metal frame that kept me off the dirty floor but did nothing for comfort.  It was hard and unyielding and the bars pressed into my knees.  Then the air conditioning finally kicked in as darkness helped cool the building, and I froze as the the chilly air circulated through the mesh, surrounding me on all sides.  All I could hear was the TV to my right blaring on and on and on through the night the grim news of the Colorado massacre.  I curled up in the fetal position and wrapped my whole head in my blanket and tried to get warm enough to fall asleep, but it never happened.  Finally, dawn came.  I was never so glad to see a pink sky before.  I folded up my cot and stumbled to the bathroom to make myself presentable.  I was so thankful that I had packed in a carry-on, otherwise I'd have no access to my luggage and therefore no clean clothes or toiletries.  Looking brighter and better (other than red eyes), I walked down to Starbucks and ordered a Perfect Oatmeal and a latte, and then plunked myself down in the chair nearest the counter at my gate, plugged in my laptop, and ate my breakfast while reading the news, waiting for the first sign of an attendant at my gate so I could check out my chances of flying stand-by on a direct flight to Portland at 10.  Every attendant I talked to had no hope to offer me, but I kept my seat and asked over and over.  Well, that plane was also delayed.  We waited and waited and waited, getting to know each other as everyone had a story to tell and wanted to share it (or vent it!).  Finally at noon they boarded the plane.  I was way down the stand-by list...of course.  There were only 200 of us displaced and all wanting on that flight!  I texted my family and told them to pray.  Texts came flying back..."Praying!"  My name bumped up to 7.  I texted "7" to everyone and they texted back, "Praying!"  My name jumped to 4.  I texted, "4!" and they texted, "Praying!"  My name jumped to #1!  But then they stopped calling names.  Instead they finished the long boarding process.  I kept saying, "Please let me on that plane, Lord.  Please!"  The flight was done boarding.  The group of stand-bys stood there forlornly, attempting to cheer each other up.  Then, "Karyn Wells" was called from the desk!  I was on!!  I almost ran onto that plane!  How exciting to text everyone that I had made it!  Then I settled in for a wonderful 3-1/2-hour flight...wonderful because I was flying and not stuck for another 11 hours in the airport.  I arrived home exhausted but giddy with relief at being in beautiful Oregon where the air is sweet and the breeze is fresh and fruit grows freely right in my neighborhood.  My shower never felt so luxurious...and my bed, well, you know how incredible it is to sleep in your own bed when you have been gone a long time!  I had texted Jeff to put clean sheets on before I arrived, and he had, so I snuggled deep into crisp, cool sheets and pulled my fluffy duvet right up under my chin and drifted into a sweet and restful sleep...

...and awoke the next morning just in time for church, a 6-mile hike to waterfalls, and company arriving from Canada!

A Change of Culture

I love traveling to different countries because I thoroughly enjoy experiencing different cultures...the food, the language, the music, the architecture, the clothing, the people...the whole atmosphere.
But sometimes you don't have to go very far to experience a culture change...sometimes driving just 10 miles from home can take you to a whole new world.

Last night Jeff and I and all four kids (which was culture shock in itself---that all four kids would actually be home and want to go somewhere with us!!) celebrated the 4th of July in a whole new way...at a rodeo.

We live just a few miles away from the bustling town of St. Paul, Oregon, population 425.  But this tiny town is host to one of the largest rodeos in America, which takes place every 4th of July.  And even though it's practically in my backyard, I've never attended.

This year we thought we'd do something different to celebrate the holiday...we'd try out the rodeo!  What I didn't realize is that the rodeo wouldn't be just a change of activity but a change in culture.  There was a whole new world just down the road that I never knew existed!

We all wore some form of red, white or blue.  The boys were very subtle...they never want to stand out.  We girls were a little more unabashed...Anna wore a t-shirt that was the American flag, Kate wore a white top, blue jeans, and a big red bow in her hair, and I wore a red sweater with the American flag knitted on the front and my stars and stripes flip-flops and painted my toenails red, white and blue.

Okay, so we stuck out a little.

We had been wearing shorts earlier in the day when we barbequed at my mom's place, but we changed into jeans before leaving, anticipating a change to cooler temperatures by the time the fireworks started later that night.  I didn't realize until about halfway there that Anna had also changed her shirt and shoes...to a denim shirt and cowboy boots.  Out of our whole family, she was the only one who had ever attended the rodeo, and obviously she was "in the know."

I knew there would be cowboy boots, cowboy hats, bandanas, plaid shirts and Wrangler jeans, I just didn't think they'd be on everybody.  Even the teenage girls, who were definitely out to lassoo themselves a cowboy, had "westernized" their skimpy attire from short-shorts, spaghetti-strap tops and flip-flops to denim cut-off shorts, plaid spaghetti strap tops and cowboy boots.  Toddlers wore pint-sized cowboy hats, and all the men had big belt buckles to hold up their jeans under their beer bellies.  Jeff's plaid bermuda shorts and sandals looked a little odd (but at least he wasn't as bright as me in my fireworks-red sweater!).

We arrived just in time for the singing of the American anthem, complete with horse and rider carrying the American flag, running around the corral.  We paid our respects and then climbed the bleachers to our seats.

Then a very enthusiastic announcer started chattering, the music started blasting, and "BANG" the gate opened and a bronco burst into the arena.  Wow!  That was more exciting than we thought!  We looked at each other in pleasant surprise, picking up the excitement of those around us.  BANG!  Another gate swung open and dust flew as the next horse and rider kicked their way into view.  But after about three riders, we started to notice there was a lull in the action.  It took quite awhile for each rider to mount the wild-eyed bronco squeezed between the walls of the stall, get situated in the special saddle, get the reins wrapped around his hand just so, and then give the signal to go.  In between each ride, the announcer would cheerily make random comments and natter to the crowd or the silly clown running around the arena.  The music played and the people seemed entranced, but our interest was quickly waning.  Jeff leaned over and told me he was having trouble breathing.  I asked Tyler how he was doing and he said he too was tightening up.  Both of them have allergies, and this arena was the mother of all allergens!  Hay, dust, animals, clover, old covered wooden bandstand built in the early 1900s, cigarette smoke...all swirling around us like an invisible tornado.  But we held our seats and our tongues and kept watching.

The announcer became more enthusiastic the longer the delays in between riders and events.  He made all kinds of red-neck jokes...not about red-necks, for red-necks!  In other words, he was making fun of people like us...city slickers, democrats (even though I'm not one, I sure felt like one!), and people who don't know how to ride a horse or wear a hat.  Then he moved on to jokes about the president, Indians and gays...and everyone cheered.  I have never been to a public event that large where someone openly and publically bashed politically-protected groups in a very non politically-correct manner.  We looked at each other uneasily, feeling like we must have "Portland People" stamped across our foreheads.  That was when I realized I had entered a totally foreign culture.  Some of the things the announcer said I might have even agreed with, but not in that openly mocking manner.  I wished I had a cowboy hat to pull down over my city-girl hair and red lipstick.

I do have to confess that I laughed at one point...it was a spoof, a little skit to divert everyone while they prepared for the next event.  When the punch line of the 10-minute skit was delivered, I was surprised at how a seemingly silly and meaningless little play came together with a 1-2 punch that left everyone over the age of 40 bustin' a gut.  Now my kids looked at me like I had been looking at everyone else:  "Are you kidding, Mom?  You actually think this is funny?  Where are you from?"  I tried three times to explain it to them, but they just didn't get it.  All I could say in my defense was, "That was really funny."

When the show was almost over, we left to beat the crowd to the fireworks.  We walked into the fresh night air and the guys tried to breathe deep enough to clear away the dust and dander tickling their throats and tormenting their lungs.  We hit the midway.  The smell was intoxicating...I stopped between three booths, which happened to be all my fair favorites---curly fries, kettle corn and elephant ears---and just sniffed.  If it wasn't so late at night and I hadn't pigged out on a big 4th of July barbeque earlier that evening, I would have splurged.  But then Kate, the only one in the family with money, bought a huge sugar-cinnamon elephant ear, and we all tore that thing apart with our greedy little hands and devoured it just standing there in the middle of the lane.  When we were done, we licked our sticky fingers and wiped them on our jeans, cowboy style!  Then we waded into the stream of people flowing towards the fireworks and headed back to the clover field where we had parked the car.  We would have just watched the show from there, but we had to get the boys out of the dirt and weeds and onto some city pavement, so we drove across the street to the high school parking lot and parked there.  We huddled together in the cooling night air, which felt cooler than it should have because we had started out so hot and sticky in the trapped heat of the bandstand on a warm July day.  Then the fireworks started and it finally felt like the 4th of July...sort of.  They only shot one firework at a time, and then not even very big ones.  We stood there longer than we should have, waiting for it to get better, but it didn't.  Finally, the boys managed to pull us into the car and we hit the highway and headed home, under a very full and brilliant yellow moon...more stunning than any of the fireworks.  We laughed, talked and reminisced all the way back to the big city of Newberg, population 25,000, which for the first time ever, felt quite civilized and modern!

So we ate the food, spoke the language, listened to the music, laughed at the inside jokes, and tried for a night to assimilate into another culture.  We may have rolled our eyes a few times (and had a few eyes rolled at us!), but I think when we look back on various 4th of Julys through the years, we will always remember this one!

Time to Get Cookin'!

I am going to be super efficient today...

I need to create some make-ahead meals for summer company, I haven't blogged since last week, and I haven't blogged about cooking or included a recipe for a very long time, sooooo

I am going to blog about whipping up some make-ahead meals while I'm whipping up the make-ahead meals!

We always have TONS of company every summer...I mean, we are almost a regular Bed & Breakfast!

The first two summers we moved here we had non-stop company for the entire months of July and August, with only 4 days without guests the first summer and only 3 days without guests the second summer, and some of those visitors' stays actually overlapped!  It was a frenzied time of changing sheets, making beds, filling guest baskets, planning meals, shopping for meals, cooking meals, driving to the falls and the beach and downtown Portland and then doing that over and over and over again!  There were times our guests arrived before the sheets were even finished washing from the last guests!  There were nights when we threw a bunch of guys in a tent in our backyard so we could free up more bedroom space for adults.  There were times I had to borrow towels from my mother because we had 30 teenagers on every inch of floor in our house and I just didn't have enough to go around.  I'm sure we must have spent a couple thousand dollars on food, entertainment, gas, and the water bill and lost a lot of wages taking time off work!  But through it all, we had a blast and made some really great memories (and I've got a ton of pictures at Silver Creek Falls to prove it!).  I also gained a lot of experience and picked up some tricks along the way, and one thing I learned was how to cook smart.

So, to get ready for the summer guests of 2012, I thought I'd make a couple favorites and share one of my tried-and-true dishes with you (but I have to admit that I'm a little afraid one of my regular blog readers is going to recognize the Italian strata when she comes to visit me!)

Today I made strata two ways....one a savory dish, Italian Strata, and the other a sweet dish, Baked French Toast.  Both freeze beautifully and both taste great.  Both are worthy of company when served with fresh local fruit and excellent coffee.

If you don't know it, a strata is an egg-milk-and-bread dish with endless variations.  It is served hot, usually for breakfast/brunch but when combined with a salad it can be lunch, a light supper, or even dessert!

The Base
a great loaf of bread, 8 eggs and 3 cups of milk

The Seasonings
for savory add Italian seasoning, a dash of tobasco sauce, dry mustard, red pepper flakes...
for sweet, add vanilla, cinnamon, orange zest, nutmeg...

The Add-In's
for savory try pre-cooked sausage, bacon or ham, sauteed onions and peppers, spinach, sundried tomato, pre-cooked broccoli or asparagus tips, crab or shrimp, 2 cups of cheese (cheddar, swiss, jack, feta, mozza)
for sweet try diced apple, raisins, berries, cream cheese

The Toppings
for savory toss on some fresh tomato, a sprinkle of parmesan, fresh herbs, guacamole
for sweet drizzle on some warm maple syrup, add a dollop of vanilla yogurt, scatter some toasted nuts, sprinkle on some granola...if dessert, try caramel sauce and ice cream!

Now watch how easy this is:

1.  Grab a 9 x 13 baking dish.  Either butter it for flavor or spritz it with olive oil for health.



Use the wrapper from the cube of butter!
Works great and no waste

I love my oil spritzer!

2.  Slice or tear your bread.  Be sure to buy excellent quality, artisan bread.  Day-old is actually better, so often you can get it for a good price.  For my baked french toast I used challah bread.  This is a wonderful bread, very soft and slightly sweet.  Also delicious is a loaf of cinnamon-raisin bread.  I sliced the bread and arranged the slices in the baking dish "shingle" style.  For the Italian strata, I used a loaf of artisan French bread and tore it by hand into rough, bite-sized chunks.  An Italian loaf or pugliese or even cheese bread is also a yummy choice.  Don't use ciabatta, as it's pretty chewy.  Don't use the crusts if they are tough.  And only use sourdough if you really, really like the taste.

3.  Mix the batter.  So simple, just beat 8 eggs and add 3 cups of milk.  If you're making the baked French toast or a dessert strata (very much like bread pudding), you can swap the milk out and use half-n-half, if you prefer a richer taste and texture.

Brown eggs or white?  Just a matter of what kind of
feed the chicken eats!

4.  Add the seasonings.  For my Italian strata I added a couple dashes of tobasco sauce, a teaspoon of dry mustard, and a tablespoon of Italian seasoning.  For the French toast I added a tablespoon of vanilla, real cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg.  Give the batter another beating to incorporate the seasonings.

5.  Sprinkle on the add-ins.  For the Italian strata I sauteed onions, peppers, garlic scapes and sweet Italian sausage (I used chicken, a little bit healthier than pork!).  Then I added shredded colby-jack cheese.  For the French toast, I simply scattered some golden raisins across the bread.

This I love...it's olive oil infused with garlic,
great for lightly sauteeing veggies (and I
have a friend who likes to pop popcorn with it
and then sprinkle on butter and parmesan cheese)

Betcha don't know what this is!
Garlic scapes...my new discovery.  They are the tops of garlic
cloves (sort of like the green of a green onion).  They have a
mild garlic flavor that is perfect when you want just a hint of flavor.

6.  Pour on the batter and soak.  Pour slowly so the bread can absorb the batter, otherwise you might end up with a spill-over!  Once all the batter is poured, cover the dish with foil and refrigerate 8 hours (all day if you make it in the morning or overnight if you make it at night).  Then transfer it to the freezer.  Tip:  Take a Sharpie and write on top of the foil what the dish is and baking instructions, so when you go to the freezer when you're company comes you'll know what you're taking out and what to do with it!

7.  Top It!  When it's time to serve the dish, take it out of the freezer the night before and let it thaw in the oven.  Set your oven for timed bake, so it will come on automatically and you can sleep an extra half an hour!  It takes an hour and a half to bake and another 15 minutes to "set," so you'll have plenty of time to slice some fruit, make coffee, and set the table nicely.  When it comes out of the oven, you can add toppings, if you like.  To my Italian strata, I will top it with a sprinkle of grated parmesan, fresh tomato slices and fresh-cracked pepper.  For my baked French toast, I will sprinkle on some toasted pecans and a little homemade granola and then I'll drizzle it with warm maple syrup.  Tip:  For amazing syrup, use grade B real maple syrup.  It's darker and richer and more flavorful.  Then add 4 tablespoons of butter and heat it up.  Pour it all over the French toast.

And that's it!  Two great dishes ready to go.  And now here are some delicious variations for you to try, and hopefully these ideas will stimulate your imagination to create your own yummy combinations!

Classic - diced ham, broccoli and cheddar
Greek - sundried tomato, artichoke hearts, black olives, spinach, feta cheese
Lorraine - crumbled bacon, sauteed onion, swiss cheese
Country - diced baby reds (pre-cooked), colby cheese, crumbled breakfast sausage
BLT - bacon, leek and fresh tomato, mozza cheese
Mexican - ground beef w/taco seasoning, cheddar or cotija cheese, onion and top with pico de gallo and avocado
Seafood - shrimp or crab, swiss cheese, green onion
Veggie - sauteed zucchini, asparagus, peppers, onion, spinach and pepper-jack cheese, top with fresh tomato
Berries and Cream - fresh berries and little cubes of cream cheese, serve with berry syrup
Apple-Cinnamon - dice tart apples and sautee in butter.  Add cinnamon and brown sugar and then mix with bread cubes.
Decadent Dessert - Try using apple fritters or cinnamon rolls in place of plain bread, then top with warm caramel sauce and ice cream

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