Pie Portions

In my mind, I imagine "finishing off" some food is to take the small portion that has been left to linger, lonely and neglected on the serving plate. This is the picture that I envisioned when I heard Jubal say, "Well, I guess I'm forced to finish off the pie." as he opened up the container of Mom's pumpkin pie left over from yesterday. What I saw in reality was Jubal heaping the last quarter of the dessert onto a paper plate bent under its weight. Then came the whipped cream, piled as high as the pie. Today I learned that measuring pie portions is all about perspective.




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The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Nutcrackers

The Maine State Ballet hosts a shortened, behind the scenes version of The Nutcracker each year and last year, while attending that, Atira and I made plans to see the full version together for her 13th birthday. We initially asked Jim if he wanted to come with us. When he asked, "What is this Cracker Barrel ballet all about anyway?", Atira and I agreed that it would NOT be worth buying him a ticket. Well, wouldn't you know, almost as soon as the tickets were purchased, Atira came down with a terrible chest cold. We hoped that it would clear up before the evening of our event but it was not to be. December 5th found her sick and exhausted enough to be falling asleep in kitchen chairs.





I spent the day trying to find someone to fill Atira's empty seat to no avail. With only a half hour left before I needed to depart for Portland, Jim arrived home from work earlier than he thought and agreed to come with me as long as I took him out to eat afterward. He was able to appreciate the hard work put into the production but he was thinking, "I can't believe that I'm actually sitting here at a ballet. This will definitely be a once in a lifetime experience for me." Over his sizzling steak, later in the evening he voiced the thought that even those of us that enjoy ballet might ask: "So, how did ballet come about anyway? Who's the guy that said, 'Let's put on these tight pants and tutus and dance around on our toes.'".

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Those Who Can't Bake, Judge

Last week at church, after discovering that there were no women among the pie contest judges for tonight's WWBC Harvest Dinner, I lobbied Ed Davis for a spot on the panel. It would only be fair, after all, to have each gender represented. Either my sweet charm or logical arguments won out ( I leave it to the reader to decide) and a place among the judges was offered to me by Naomi on Sunday afternoon. I took my place among the other two elite pie tasters. Maybe elite is the wrong word. The other judges were Jim and Don.

We were careful not to overindulge in the wonderful array of homemade soups beforehand, saving room to sample each of the seventeen pie entries. There was a wondrous variety. Pumpkin, apple, chocolate, lemon, pecan, and blueberry to name a few. Some scrumptious, some good, all better than mine but one was a cut above the rest.






First place belonged to young Eban Keach, who does not normally sport a unibrow but the most recent photo I have of our blue-ribbon chef is from GNC moustache night. Eban thought he signed up for a pie-EATING contest last week when the sign-up sheet was passed around. You can imagine the disappointment of a ten year old boy after discovering that he had to MAKE a pie instead of EAT one. Setting that aside, he decided to make an attempt, and look what happened. There's a moral in there somewhere. Congratulations, Eban!

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Yes, It'a Recipe

Spicy Mexican Fudge
3 cups milk chocolate morsels
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

Heat the chocolate and the condensed milk over medium low heat until the chocolate is melted, stirring constantly.
Add the vanilla, cinnamon, and pepper. Combine thoroughly and immediately pour the fudge into an 8x8 pan. Allow it at least four hours to set in the fridge.





Regular readers of my blog have just double checked the blog title to verify that they are at the right place. Yes. I have posted a recipe that was mixed by my hand and emerged from my kitchen unscorched and tasty. It was VERY easy. Try it.

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A New Look

This evening, I had a friend's young daughter at my house and she asked if she could give me a beautiful hairstyle and make-up like a princess. She couldn't wait for me to show Tell and Atira and just KNEW they would love my new look. The look on Tell's face was priceless. I was very proud of him for keeping his horror to himself, however, and simply giving a hesitant "yeah" accompanied by a thumbs up when Kingsley asked, "Don't you just love it?" The budding young stylist is not yet available for weddings and proms but she could possibly carve out a niche for herself during this Halloween season.












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Car Parts

What do a large industrial truck tire and a 15 amp tail light fuse have in common? Irregardless of size, when not functioning properly, both of those car parts impede the ability of a vehicle to be freely driven along Route 1 here in Maine.

Thankfully, our vehicle has only been suffering from the small malfunctioning part. I was very proud of myself today for identifying and fixing the problem. Alas, my mechanical victory was short-lived when the fuse blew again, only moments after replacing it. It must be an electrical short somewhere, which means the remedy is now above my pay grade.

I will take the inconvenience of daytime only driving, however, over driving with a missing wheel.

On our school commute north Friday, Nolan and I watched a larger industrial truck tire come bouncing across the wide portion of Route 1 just after the Dairy Queen, about 40 feet in front of us. It seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I turned to look at Nolan and his puzzled expression matched mine. With incredulity, one of us, I'm not even sure which, asked the other, "Did you see that?" Glancing into my side mirror allowed me to see the origin of the tire, a large truck headed South. The truck still maintained control but the sparks were flying!
Yeah. I'll take the absence of taillights, thanks.







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Saturday Traffic

Today's activities began with Nolan's second round of driving time. His instructor, Driver Ed (seriously), is very impressed with how well Nolan is doing. Jim met them going down our driveway and apparently, Nolan had two hands on the wheel and a big smile on his face.





The biggest influx of foot traffic today was brought in by way of Tell's Birthday party. Unfortunately I had the Salvador lens on my Hipstamatic app and didn't get any normal photos of Tell's many attempts at blowing out his candles before he laughingly put his head in his hand and accepted the help of friends.






Kingsley's arrival ended the afternoon and a date with the Fishers concluded this people-filled day.





The traffic of 21 people made for a good Saturday.

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Filling the Mailbox

Women's Retreat thank yous, care packages, notes of encouragement and, of course, boot camp letters, have created quite a bit of traffic in my mailbox this past month. More than I've had in a very long time. While Jubal is at Parris Island, I have been writing to him each day and have realized how very little "pen and paper" correspondence I participate in anymore. It has been difficult keeping my envelopes plain, so as not to attract the attention of Jubal's Drill Instructor. That strains against my artistic nature. This let to the pattern overload when I sent out a baby gift package to the Nkamwesigas in Uganda. Jim saw the package on the table and asked if they were the power bars that I was sending to Jubal. "Take a good look at that package, Jim. Do you really think that I would be sending it to boot camp?" I would NOT be a good mother.





I think back to my childhood and teenage years and all the letters I received from friends and family members. Many I still have, tucked away in a couple small boxes: An Easter postcard from my great grandparents in Nebraska, an old childhood Valentine poem, Birthday cards filled with sweet sentiments from my Grandparents, friend letters infused with camp and CYIA memories, pages of hilarious notes from my H.S. best friend, and of course, some bundled love letters. The emotions created by these items, varies. Some make me laugh, some make me wistful, some all warm and fuzzy. Some create the sadness of missing a loved one, others create the thankfulness of knowing a great friendship. All of them capture a little slice of my life that might otherwise have been forgotten years ago .
It's not always easy to get something out to Jubal everyday but I know he appreciates hearing his name at evening mail call and being temporarily transported back home through the written word. If he is anything like me, in 30 years, his appreciation for the bundles of memories will only have grown.

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No News is Good News

On Friday I received an introductory form letter from Jubal's Drill Instructor as well as a form letter from Jubal with his permanent address. Because of this, I was certainly not expecting anything from Jubal today in the mail. When I opened the mailbox and saw the already familiar Eagle, Globe and Anchor with Jubal's magnifying glass-worthy handwriting, I was surprised. Upon closer inspection, surprise morphed into amused bewilderment when I realized that the envelope was completely void of any correspondence. It's good to know that Jubal was listening well when, during our briefing, his recruiter told us that "no news is usually good news".





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Frenemy

By the very nature of his designation, my favorite frenemy, Don, excels at cloaking his soft-hearted side in sarcasm and verbal ribbing. I was only fooled for about the first six months of our friendship. (During that time I did wonder how in the world he snagged someone as compassionate and kind as Deb.) That was about twenty years ago, however. Now I know the real Don, the Don of dual personalities. The Don that doesn't really care about football but stays up late watching my beloved Patriots get creamed just so he can irritate me with his happy texts about it but then shows up at the house the next day with Dunkin' Donuts coffee to cheer me up after their wretched defeat. Frenemies only come around once in a blue moon. I'm thankful for mine and the coffee he brings.



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The Quick and the Loud

It's been about 24 hours since his arrival and I'm guessing by now, that the culture shock of life on Parris Island has set in for Jubal.

Quick and loud is the way to blend in and bring as little attention to yourself as possible during training. This applies even to phone calls apparently.

Upon arrival, the new recruits process through many stations. such as hair cut, gear issue and of course, the "safe arrival" phone call. I was prepared for the scripted words and the short 10 second duration but I hadn't realized that Jubal would be YELLING all his information into the phone. "This is Recruit Gilbert! I have arrived safely at Parris Island..." rang quite loudly in my ear at 3:10 AM. It was a little unusual and I think I was still chuckling as my head hit the pillow once again.

Now the only means of communication will be letters for the next 12 weeks.

I think some personalized stationery is in order.




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Phases

A new phase of life began for Jim and I today as we watched Jubal being sworn in as a Recruit in the Marine Corp.








Jubal's training on Parris Island will consist of three Phases over the course of 13 very tough weeks. The most brutal weeks are the first ones.
He will be arriving very soon as I write this, and at some point in the middle of the night, I will receive the " I am here" call, read from a script on a 3x5 card above the phone. His head recruiter, who did an extremely thorough job of briefing us on the 13 weeks yesterday, told me to talk right over Jubal as he reads the script or there will be no time for him to hear what I say. So, Jubal has his script and I have mine ready to go.

There were no tears from me today. I'm actually doing very well and excited for what he will accomplish in the next 3 months. My general crying schedule is an annual one and I suspect the tears will arrive in time for the Graduation on December 19 when Jubal earns the title of Marine.

I have always said that because of my easy-going, go with the flow nature, I would have made a good military wife. I'll just apply those qualities to being a great Marine Mom.


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Mansfield Park

I finished reading Jane Austen's Mansfield Park recently and wrote a couple of my favorite quotes from the book on the chalkboard in the kitchen. One was a humorous observation from a character about a less than adequate suitor. "What a difference a vowel makes! If his rents were but equal to his rants!"
The other was simply what I thought to be a bit of wisdom and ended up being quite relevant this week as our Pastor buried one of his sons on Sunday and our Woolwich-Wiscasset church family participated in a service for Pat Dighton on Friday. "There is nothing like employment, active indispensable employment, for relieving sorrow."


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Sand Painting

School has begun and our first art project of the year was sand painting. Atira and I are always up for any art and we enjoyed taking the basic rose in two different directions. We are still not quite sure what Tell's painting actually IS...(maybe people driving in a car with the sun shining and a clouds in the sky?)...but he enjoyed creating it and that was the main purpose.










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Missing a Friend

Jim and I watched a couple episodes of the '70's British sitcom, "Some Mothers Do Ave Em" last night and it made me miss my friend, Cindy. My introduction to the show took place at her home in Yerrinbool, Australia during a school holiday. Cindy had the most generous hearted parents, Peter and Maureen Kruss, who offered to host a whole crew of temporarily homeless students for nearly a week. Chris, Amy, Alison, Cindy, Russ, myself. College kids sprawled all over and laughter echoing into every corner of the small Kruss home. I can't even remember everyone that was there...what a crazy, fun crew we were. That week remains one of my all-time favorite memories. Why, 20 years later, can I still vividly recall Cindy and the rest of us crowded into her living room, watching Michael Crawford's antics on TV? I don't know why some seemingly insignificant events stick in our memories, but I'm thankful for the reminders of a kind friend who lived her short life well. Cindy passed away a few years ago but I remember her often....Sometimes when I see a sheep....when I hear a certain song or watch a particular British comedy....sometimes when I see a bowling ball and ALWAYS when I have some Twining's Earl Grey. I'm glad God gave me such a friend and I look forward to our reunion some day, when I will once again see her roll her eyes at me and say, "oh, Chelle."




(1993-Me, Cindy Kruss and Amy Shields)
Amy's Bridal shower, Australia
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Location:Bath,United States

Happy Birthday, Mom

I waited until this evening to pop in on Mom and wish her a happy birthday and I was not the only procrastinator. In the 20 minutes I was at the house she had five phone calls. One of them was from my little niece, Ally, who lovingly sang a sweet rendition of "Happy Birthday" to her Mimi. At the other end of the "love my Mimi" spectrum is 8 year old Tell Gilbert, who called my phone while Ally was finishing her birthday wishes. Our conversation concluded with this:

Me: I'm at Mimi's house visiting because it's her birthday.

Tell: It is? You didn't tell me that.

Me: No, I'm sorry. I should have told you but she's coming to the house tomorrow so you'll be able to see her. She's talking to Ally right now. Ally sang "Happy Birthday" to her.

Tell: Well, I was just wondering if you were going to the store because we don't have any juice.

Me: I'm not going tonight but the next time I am at the store, I will get some. Mimi just got off the phone. Do you want to say "Happy Birthday?"

Tell: Well....I will think about that.
(Click. The phone goes dead.)

Mom laughed and made note of how very different her grandchildren were from each other. I'm glad she has a sense of humor about these things.




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Burnt Brownie Points

According to an after-church conversation today, I apparently would be much better off singing for my supper, rather than making it myself.

Jim shared with Dwane Sukeforth that he thought my song this morning was one of the nicest that I have ever sung. Dwane, of course, implied that such high praise was an effort on Jim's part to gain some brownie points with me. Jubal neither agreed or disagreed but simply told me, "Well, Mom, whatever you do, don't make the brownies. Just buy them."

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In Port(land) For the Day

Meghan Gillespie and I brought a young but hearty crew aboard the Niña and Pinta this afternoon on their last day docked in South Portland













The ships are replicas of Columbus' two smaller ships that made the voyage to the New World in 1492. I always knew they were fairly small but actually walking around on deck, I couldn't imagine spending 5 weeks confined on the deck, surrounded by the sea and headed to an unknown destination.

The size of the ships meant that the self-guided tour was not a long one but Meghan made the trip stretch a bit by suggesting we find the splash pool in Deering Oaks Park that a friend had told her about. I couldn't count how many times my car has passed that park with its fountain-centered pond. I never realized that nestled near the pond is a small grassy gulley with a large, natural-looking, shallow pool area for wading and splashing.












There are several places in the pool where random small geysers will shoot into the air accompanied by the delightful squeals of any child nearby.





It really is a hidden gem in the middle of Portland and we will definitely be back.

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Off-trail Experience

(AT Hike Catch-up)
Thursday, April 24

While getting her pack back on immediately following our thunderstorm on Wednesday, Liz lost a battle with the uneven ground and a Pennsylvania rock leaving her shin bruised and body sore. Add in the fact of an already iffy knee and a full water bottle dropping from the shelter loft onto her neck and you have the recipe for getting off the trail. So, Thursday, Liz and I stayed back with Sam C., Cody and Sam M.'s dad Aaron at the River Front Campground while Greg shuttled everyone to a drop off point for a shortened hike into Clarks Ferry Shelter from the north. Sam and Cody were quite excited to learn that Greg had given them permission to take a dip in the Susquehanna River once the other kids left. I took a seat on a rock near the edge and stuck my foot in. I pulled it out just as quickly. The water was about as warm as the Maine ocean in late August.





The boys took the plunge. Sam was in first and out mighty fast. Cody went next and I'm pretty sure he was on his way back out before he was all the way in. Being guys, they had to go in for a second round, of course and never wanting to be outdone, Sam had a third round.






The quick, cold dip refreshed them to hike up the longer path to Clarks Ferry Shelter with Aaron and Greg while Liz and I headed into Duncannon.
















Though we missed hiking with the group, we made our own off-trail experience by visiting one of the AT's most famous stopping places, the Doyle Hotel, which caters to its hikers. It's a quaint, old building in some disrepair on the main street of Duncannon. The atmosphere is completely relaxed, as you would expect. The decor is a combination of trail memorabilia and green aliens lining the shelves behind the bar. Liz and I had THE BEST cheeseburger and spent a bit of time "talking trail" with the older couple who own the place. Great day!

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Irony

Deb, Jim and I went with Nate and Jubal to a Family Night for Marine recruits from Maine and N.H. Part of the evening contained a taste of Boot Camp, complete with a Drill Instructor from Parris Island. She was loud and in their face. I wouldn't want to spend 3 months in her company but it was fun to watch. She engaged in a question and answer time at the end. Ironically, it was very difficult to hear her once she dropped her D.I. persona.

Completely unrelated to the Marines but entirely relevant to irony, was a float in last year's Independence Day Parade. That would be independence from the British....





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"Gene"ius Response

As Tell and I are walking through WalMart this is our conversation:

"So, Tell. Mother's Day is in one week, you know. What are you planning to do for your mother?"

A shrug of the shoulders. "I don't know."

"You should start thinking about it now so you're prepared. You don't want to be like your dad in that way."

Puts his fingers to his chin and tips his head slightly. "We-ell. There is such a thing as genes."



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If I Couldn't Wear a Necklace...,

Jubal hopefully enjoyed his night out with friends at the Junior-Senior Banquet last Saturday. I say hopefully because he really wasn't feeling well at all as he went last minute shopping for his tie and got ready. When he left, he looked much better than he felt. Part of that was due to an elegant Eldridge knot gracing the top of his shirt.





I never realized until recently that here are so many artistic ways to tie kneckties. If I were a man, without access to all of my necklaces (gasp!) then, cool ties and knots would have to suffice.



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The Rock Slide

Picking your way through a massive slide of rocks on the steep side of a mountain is no easy feat. Sometimes coming downhill takes longer than going up. There are times when steps are provided but I find that most of them were not built for the short of leg. At the bottom of the descent into Duncannon there was one particularly long drop and I designated that a James (Pray) sized step. Needless to say, Liz and I found a way around instead of down.






















































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Hawk Rock

Hawk Rock gives you the kind of view that justifies the hard hiking and true to its name, a hawk circled the skies in front of us as we took in the scenery.





















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Yogi

Wednesday, April 23

As the trio of two turtles and an armadillo, also known as myself, Liz and the significantly longer legged Nicole, walked along the Cove Mountain ridgeline we were greeted by several friendly messages written with chalk. By the third scrawl, it became clear who was leaving them. Colin has made sure that Yogi has gotten the full AT experience, including photo-bombing and waving to the good citizens of Duncannon as our group hiked through the town.












I love that I unknowingly caught a classic Jen Keach face in the background of this last photo.

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Rocky Ground

Tuesday, April 22-
Wednesday, April 23

The area surrounding Cove Mountain Shelter was not exactly flat and extremely rocky so with limited tent space, eleven of us shared the shelter with a thru hiker who had started his trek in Georgia just after Christmas. Notable events at the shelter included:
• poor Jen's migraine
•Nolan's food bag getting stuck in a tree, with my hiking pole broken and Nolan nearly dropping onto Greg in the process of getting it down
•Josh denying the use of his sleeping mat for Grandpa Mike
•Caleb's sleep taking episode, looking straight at Peg, saying, "I'm not going to do it, Josh." and plopping his head back down again with not another word.
•A water bottle dropping onto Liz's neck from the loft after she was already sore from falling onto a rock just after the thunderstorm
•Valet in-bunk water service for Greg
•A very early morning treacherously rocky moonlight walk with Peg to the luxuriously large privy.
•My attempt to keep my neck from stiffening up by sleeping upright, encased in my mummy sleeping bag, against the shelter post.
•And of no small significance, Nicole's stolen roll of toilet paper.

Morning came with its aching muscles and a new set of miles.





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God's Storehouses

Psalms 135:5-7
For I know that the Lord is great,
and that our Lord is above all gods.
Whatever the Lord pleases, he does,
in heaven and on earth,
in the seas and all deeps. He, it is, who makes the clouds rise at the end of the earth,
who makes lightnings for the rain
and brings forth the wind from his storehouses.
••••••••••
Tuesday, April 22
The second half of our first hiking day was less pleasant. As always, the stubby, out of shape, legs of Liz and I made sure that we were the last group of our pack of hikers. As we hiked along the ridge of Cove Mountain we could hear distant rumblings and see storm clouds roll up from the valley as we anxiously watched for the blue blaze that would tell us we were about a mile from Cove Mountain Shelter. Providentially, we met up with Peg, Brooke and Jaleine, who were also wondering if they had also missed the blue blazes. We figured BOTH groups would not have missed BOTH blazes so we pressed on. We hoped the storm would change direction, knowing that it was moving much faster than us, but it quickly hit full force with driving rain and gusting winds howling up and over the ridge. When a couple flashes of lightning followed and a branch crashed to the ground near us, our packs came off and Peg found an already fallen tree for the girls to crawl under. Nichole and Liz grabbed the ground cover for our tent and I quickly chucked the metal hiking poles away from our "shelter". We prayed, stayed mostly dry and kept our sense of humor for the duration of the thankfully short-lived storm. I can't say that I was unafraid but it was definitely reassuring to know the Owner of the storm's storehouses.





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God's Garden

Tuesday April 22nd

The first half of our first hiking day was pleasant. With fresh legs we encountered green growth that hasn't hit Maine yet. Our path was interwoven with wild flowers, wild chives for the taste buds, and blooming daffodils near the remains of an old farm homestead. Light rain for a short time kept us pleasantly cool.




















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Travel Time

Tuesday April 22nd:
We're heading to the Trail Head near Darlington Shelter to begin our first day of hiking. We traveled down yesterday, attempting to order coffee and muffins from some of the toll takers. We camped at Little Buffalo State Park last night.

Yesterday's quote of the day was from Colin Viele:

"There is nothing wrong with hiking with a teddy bear."

Yogi will be accompanying us on the trail today.







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A Bit of a Brag

This post is unapologetically a chance to share how proud I am of Nolan's accomplishments in karate. Jim, Tell and I attended his belt testing today.



















It was an opportunity to see the results of Nolan's hard work. The students are tested on their form and then do some sparring.






































When the belt advancements were given, Nolan's sensei had some comments. Nolan's turn came with two of the other students and David mentioned that each of these particular students were at the dojo consistently and showed a lot of promise. Each one of them had recently competed at the Battle of Maine Martial Arts Championship. Nolan had decided the day of the competition to fight in the full contact match. He has a 3rd degree yellow belt in karate and only a white belt with one stripe in jiu jitsu. His sensei said that his opponent had a brown belt in both of those martial arts and yet, Nolan almost defeated him. How could a parent not feel a little bit of pride after hearing that?




















Even more so when Nolan's new belt was given to him and he had skipped three belt levels to receive his blue one. His sensei had only seen one other person accomplish that. Nolan quietly asked, "Who was that?" and David laughed as he said, "That was me."



















Well done, Nolan!

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