Just letting you know, I survived....

.........but only because there were too many other distractions on that dreaded first.ever.day.of.high.school.football. Such as: 1) Tyner Beth had been feeling sick for a couple of days, was staying with Mom and Dad, and I was running in checking on her. 2) Had to make a trip to get some photos printed for the science fair projects this week. 3) Walt had piano lessons. 4) After which he had baseball practice.

And what kept me the buisest, and my mind from being entirely consumed by the small little boy I put on a practice field with a bunch of large defensive linemen, was a half dozen phone calls from his father during the 2 hour span of football practice.

Seriously....and you thought I was nuts. My voice mail beeped at 3:58 to inform me I had a new message I needed to hear. Boy did I ever. "Kimberly, answer the phone. The suspense is killing me." (I'm counting that as phone call #1)

What suspense? He's been through football on his own before, back in the 80's.....it's not some foreign activity like it is to me, and surely it hasn't changed all that much in a couple decades. I return his call (which counts as phone call #2) and he immediately starts into a million questions...."well, how's it going? what's he doing? does he look like he's doing well?"

To which I replied...."I don't know. I dropped him off and left."

"You mean you aren't sitting there watching practice?"........apparently he forgot the other offspring in our family he helped create that also require my care....and taxi skills. So I remind him of such...."we're at piano right now."

"Okay well, did your drive past the school on your way there and see him?"

"No, we came the back way....."

"Well, when you leave for baseball practice, drive by and look. And be sure to have him call me as soon as he gets in the car with you."

So....Mozart and I leave piano and head to the park for baseball. And we drive by the practice field. And I see him. My little original bundle of joy. And he looks so little, like a newborn. And those other boys, the ones with all the helmets and pads and such look even bigger than I'd remembered.

About 8 minutes have passed......(phone call #3) "Well, did you see him yet? Is he finished? What's he doing?"

"No dear, they weren't finished. They were all still out at the practice field. But yes, we saw him. He was just standing there."

"Well, that's good news. At least he's still standing."

So.....Babe Ruth departs the vehicle for baseball practice and the taxi makes a run back up to the football practice. A few minutes have passed.....and you guessed it....(phone call #4)...."Why haven't you called me yet? I told you to have him call as soon as he finished."

"Umm....that would be because, he's not finished. But, the good news is I'm here. Watching. It's close to the end of practice. They are running right now."

And I proceed to take my nifty Nikon out, that just so happened to have my long lens still attached. See, the Lord, he knows what I need, even before I need it. So, I use it as a spy binocular of sorts. And I felt like those cheesy tabloid photographers that lurk in the bushes to get that next cover shot of Jennifer Anniston with no make-up.

But, it didn't phase me enough that I stopped spying. I could see that my boy child appeared to be alive, and was not throwing up at the moment. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying this thing called Spring Training. I called his Dad to inform him of the latest events. He confided in me that he just couldn't believe he was missing his first day of High School Football. I guess, because he was out of town, it made it even harder to believe this was actually happening......than say me, who was there to see it with my own two eyes. :)

He's a great father. He loves his boy. Almost as much as I do. :) You know how you remember all their firsts....and you might think those only involve baby, toddler, Kindergarten type things. First words, first steps, first tooth, first foods, first coloring sheet, first kiss, first smile, first day of school....the list goes on and on. Moments you hold on to forever......

Well, let me tell you.....the firsts never stop. They keep coming. And I love every stinking one of them.

And just to let you all know.....the Dad....he survived too. However, he just called to announce he would be picking our boy up from football practice today. He was already there. Watching. Without the lurking Nikon camera. I bet he marched right out onto the practice field.

And to think it seems like yesterday that I brought him home from the hosptial.....

• I have just returned from dropping my firstborn off at Spring Training for Football. High School Football.

I'm going to give you a second to re-read that last sentence. Slowly. Give it time to really sink in.

His father gave him this advice this morning....."listen to your coach. you will be running a lot today. in this heat. you're gonna want to throw up. i mean it's going to be a lot of running, and you will probably throw up. it will be hard, and you think you won't make it through. the simple fact is, you're going to be running so much and it will be so hot, and you definitely WILL throw up....but just keep running."

Boy, if that's a pep talk, I can assure you I want no part of Spring Training. Seriously. At any rate, I dropped off that little precious son of mine that came forth from my womb so many years ago.

Although the distance in metric measurement is very short from point A (where I picked him up from his school) to point B (where I dropped him off to be fed to the wolves), it felt like a hundred miles to me. I kept thinking in my head......surely, this can't be happening. Surely, someone will stop me and say, "hey, he's not old enough for that, he's just a mere child, a babe you swaddled......"

I also thought twice about circling the joint like a buzzard. You know, just to scope it out and make sure it seemed child-proof.....or mother-tolerant. But, I fought the urge to embarass the boy child. Instead, I pulled up and tried to smile, just as I did when I took him for his first day of school.

I smiled, then and now, not because I wanted to. Not at all because I wanted to. Nothing inside of me wanted to. Not then, or now. I did it because I love him.

I did it in Kindergarten because I wanted him to know it was all going to be alright. See?....momma is smiling, so things must be okay. It must be okay to go in this classroom and make new friends, and eat lunch in the cafeteria, and walk down that long hallway. I smiled back then. And waited until my back was turned, until I had retreated to the confined space of my 2 ton vehicle....and I cried like a baby.

He was fine. That first day and every day thereafter. He didn't need to retreat to a SUV for cover.

Today, I smiled again. But this time, it wasn't for his sake. Today it was for my own. I smiled to make myself believe that it would be alright. He would be alright. The world will be fine if I make it through this first day of release. And although I wanted to hug him up so tightly---just right there where he sat in that passenger seat--I opted to give him "knuckles" instead.

I may be a sappy momma, but I'm not stupid. He's going to Spring Training for Football. High School football. And big momma kisses in front of the football crew just didn't seem like it would benefit my young fellow in the long run. Because, the boys. The big boys. The ones that outweigh him by more than double. The shoulder pads, the helmets, the steel cleats........it's all making me a tad light-headed just writing it down now. So, I must stop.

I will try to offer an update.....if I'm not locked in the crazy ward by the time practice is over. I assume, he will be like all the other boys who have gone through it every Spring before, since the history of football........he will survive.

I, however, may not.

And just so you know.....I am not out running, in the heat. In fact, I'm sitting with my feet propped up in this nice 68 degree climate controlled room. But I still feel pretty sure---I'm about to throw up.

Another field trip to Camp McDowell....

So, I headed out for yet another adventure at Camp McDowell.....this time with my oldest son, on another three day field trip. And we had a blast....outdoors, with no tv, computer, x-box or such. But we did have, one toilet, two sinks, worn thin mattress cots, and the open air, which was filled with an abundance of chiggers and ticks. I just kept reminding myself that I didn't have to cook meals or wash a load of laundry for 3 days......and that's just music to my ears.....or maybe it was the hum of a chigger I was hearing.

At any rate, my boy had a grand time. Especially since he was often paired up with his best friend, J. They were great at canoeing.....and splashing water with a paddle, and pretending it was a big game of bumper boats on clear creek!! :)


Oh, and remember me "sharing the knowledge" with you last month about the poison ivy vine growing on a tree? See the feelers? Poisonous.....even in the winter months.


Well, no need to worry.....now that Spring has sprung, poison ivy can be clearly recognized with it's "leaves of three" (let them be).



Rivers was fortunate to have a class instructed by Big Dave while at camp. He taught a short survival skills class that we were glad to be assigned to. And because we should always "share our knowledge", I thought I'd pass along another little fact he told us one afternoon while out on a hike.

If you are ever stranded, and need to build a fire, and say it has been raining for days, everything is wet. All the trees, the ground cover, everything, soaked. What do you look for to find dry wood to start a fire? The answer is: Red Cedar and Oak Leaf Hydrangea (more commonly known to your grandmother as "seven-bark"). You can take off the very outer edge layer of either the cedar tree or the hydrangea bush, and find layers of excellent fire starter dryness. AWESOME. Because, knowledge is power.

We also were able to participate in physical challenges while at camp. And learned a lot about trust.....as in trusting the instructor not to drop you on your head at the climbing wall (a more physical challenge) or power pole (more of a mental challenge)!! :) Here's my little spiderman, showing his skills, making it to the top!

Here he is climbing the power pole. Sure, he's harnessed up, but watching your son climb a power pole and then jump for a trapeze (without a net underneath) is still a little heart stopping. Good thing I have the camera to distract me!

I'm telling you right now.....that boy has some serious pole climbing skills. He was one, of only a few in their class, who was able to climb to the top, leap for the trapeze, catch it, and hold on.

Awesome! And then he turned all weird on me, and wanted me to try it.

Me. to try it. Me? Really, I don't have any trust issues, but the thoughts of having a little Camp McDowell instructor holding onto Rivers on a rope is not quite the same as holding onto me with the same harness and rope. I'm just sayin'. Besides I would have dropped that camera in a heartbeat if he started falling.......at least I could cushion the fall a bit.

And now is when I should mention that they don't serve up a bottle of wine at the canteen, which could have proved helpful for this class......to me, a glass of chardonnay and a trapeze act go hand in hand. However, I'm glad to announce that I harnessed up, faced my fears, and all without the aide of a good year of Pinot Grigio.

How fortunate for you that my son decided it was all photo worthy......otherwise, I don't think his father would have believed us. I don't think I would have believed it either, had I not been there, in physical form anyway. Mentally, I was elsewhere. Because if you stop long enough to think about the fact that some young college kid that weighs less than you is 40 feet below, on the ground, holding the rope that saves you from life or death.........or at the very least several crushed bones, and a broken plastic helmet......well, all I can say is mentally, you just need to keep focused. Or bring your own bottle of wine. Or body armor. Or don't go.

So, to appease my 12 year old, I climb to the top, at a fast pace, don't look down, count to 3 and leap like there's no tomorrow....because if this harness doesn't hold me, there may not be.

Look, I survived to tell about it. And what form. I think I hear Barnum & Bailey calling my name right now........thanks Camp McDowell for launching my circus career to new heights, Ringling Bros. may never be the same. Look for me at a show of Zing Zang Zoom in a city near you.

Someone remind me how many more kids, I have to travel with, to chaperone at Camp McDowell. And also, I believe on my next evaluation sheet I'm going to suggest they do a wine-tasting for the adults prior to afternoon classes. And morning class, and as evening snack.

Cooking Camp......Strawberry Ooey-Gooey Cake

This cake was so ooey-gooey delicious. Again, I only had one little helper in the kitchen. Lucky for her....as she was able to crack the eggs without the usual sibling battle. And pat down the entire 9x13 pan without having to fight the guys for her spot at the counter.

She even was able to spread the ooey-gooey stuff on top......all by herself. However, the boys must have smelled the strawberry mixture, because they arrived just in time to lick the spatula and beater and mixing bowl.

Again, this recipe was on an index card in my recipe box. I have no idea where it came from....I'm guessing on-line, but not sure at what site. I have a few recipe books with other ooey-gooey cakes in them, so it may have been an adaptation of sorts that I tried somewhere down the line when strawberries were in season.

• As a side note...... I have also used this recipe for German Chocolate Ooey-Gooey Butter Cake at Kelly's Korner recipes. Temple loves German Chocolate Cake, but I don't like to fuss with making it, the cake, the icing, spreading it on the layers and such.....so I found this and LOVED it for the simplicity and taste. Temple did too. And that my friend, is what I like to call a "Win-Win" situation. But back to the ooey-gooey goodness of the strawberry cake.........
  

Tyner Beth even packed a couple of pieces to take to school for snack. One for her, and one for her teacher. You know you can get "strawberry ooey-gooey points" just like brownie points. As it turns out, a few other teachers (some of which were of the 3rd grade position) were able to try out a bite of her masterpiece and they all had RAVE reviews. Several even asked for the recipe. And she tried to oblige.....at which point the school secretary tried her hardest to merely smile, instead of laughing out loud at TB, when she began describing the recipe.

• "You get a strawberry cake mix and crack an egg and then pat it down in a pan. And then you mix up the gooey stuff and you need some of that white stuff but it's not sugar, and it comes in a blue and white box (Domino Powdered Sugar), an then you bake it."

So, she won't be writing recipes for Martha Stewart anytime soon.......but she's only seven. Was Martha doing so well when she was in 2nd grade? I think not.

After being asked for the recipe....a grand compliment to cooks everywhere.....she was beaming with pride. Realizing she had a potential gold mine on her hands, she ventured back out the next day with two slabs of ooey-gooey for the 4th grade teachers. And then the next day, why not hit up a 5th grade teacher you really like, and a few other faculty while you're at it? There is no law, stating a limit, on how many brownie points you can achieve with one 9x13 cake pan.

If you can't decipher her recipe with the information she gave.....then click here or go on over to our House of Bowling recipe blog.

The point is.....you need to try it. You may learn real quick, as did Tyner Beth, the road to success may very well be paved with Strawberry Ooey-Gooey goodness.

Hey Batter, Batter, Batter....

Yep, we're in full "swing", so to speak, here at the House of Bowling. Baseball. It's time consuming, with two boys, on two different teams, usually playing at two different parks, at two different times.........but I love it. And they have so much fun. And they look so good in their uniforms.

I had to include the photo below....it was Rivers first out as a third baseman. Or at least I don't think he's ever played 3rd. But I could be wrong.....not that it happens frequently. Anyway, see that little white dot above the first baseman's head in the photo? Yea, that's the ball.....and my sweet boy fielded the line drive and then threw the socks off of it, on a straight line shot, to get the out at first.


What about the Walt man in this extremely large, break-down stance at short-stop? Seriously, that's too cute. If I were to get down like that, forget about me catching a ball, they'd have to send someone out to help get me back up. He's just precious, even if he is mine.

And hey, what about the white uniform? Who in their right mind orders little boys, white uniforms? They just scream---"please show me where the red dirt is, right now.....I can't help myself". I'll tell you who orders that get-up.......a man that never does the laundry, that's who.

Last week, my friend came over to use the iron....

and thank goodness she called ahead.......it gave me time to remember where I keep it. It's behind the laundry room door with that big contraption that goes with it....I think they call it an ironing board. However, if you take it's legs off, my boys could use it at the beach to learn how to surf this summer.

I'm just saying, one day in the ocean with my boys and that ironing board would see more use than ever in it's entire lifetime. Oh what a sad day, when it came to my house. I don't remember when, exactly. I think it was a hand-me-down. Bless it's heart. But, my iron...well, that's another story, I know exactly when and where it came into my existence.

• It was a wedding gift. That means it has reached it's pimply-faced teenage years.

My good friend came over, with a couple of her daughters, because due to recent storms, they had been without power for two days. They needed a long hot shower, and without the aid of electricity and a heat pump, it wasn't going to happen at their home. Don't ask me about the husband and other two siblings.....I can only assume they don't mind being dirty.

No, wait, that's not true. They just didn't mind a cold shower. Anyway, while they were here, soaking up the lights, sights and sounds of a house that foots the bill for Alabama Power's Christmas Social, I set up the ironing board and iron for her family's daily wardrobe.

She ironed. I sat down in a chair and watched. Fascinating stuff, this ironing phenomenon. So much so, that I strike up a rousing conversation about it with my very good friend :

"So, do you iron , like, every day?"

"Yea, just about. Every night I iron all of our clothes for the next day."

"Oh. Wow, that's a lot of ironing. I don't iron. "

A small laugh bursts from my friend...just like a shot of steam from the iron...."Kimberly, what do you mean you DON'T iron.....I know you iron. What do you do about the clothes?"

"I burn my hand repeatedly trying to snatch them from the dryer and get them to a hanger as soon as it buzzes . That + a hope and a prayer will usually get us through. And on the off chance that I don't hear the buzzer, am away from home when the buzzer goes off, or am too busy with other things and ignore the buzzer, well then, I just push the de-wrinkle button on my dryer. And wait the 15 minutes for the wrinkles to fall back out. "

( I am in love with the de-wrinkle button. It is very liberating. I use it on stuff that I normally wouldn't care if it were wrinkled or not. Because with that power, with just a slight press of the forefinger, I can have wrinkle free pajamas, socks and dust rags, if I want them. )

"I don't think I have a de-wrinkle button. But even so, I know you have to iron dress shirts and the like....what do you do?"

"Umm....well, fortunately, Temple has a wonderful sister that has always been so good to buy him casual dress shirts and slacks from L.L. Bean. They have a tag in back that states = WRINKLE RESISTANT. I don't know if it's because, at the time, she loved that particular plaid or stripe, or if it's due to the fact, she knows he has a wife that hates to iron. Whatever the reason, she has excellent taste and I do, in fact, hate to iron. As I have never been one to argue with the great minds behind L.L.Bean clothing, I believe whole-heartedly that they are, indeed, wrinkle resistant. And therefore, need no help from me to achieve such state of mind.

As for all the other clothes, if the de-wrinkle button doesn't work then, yes, I do resort to pulling the iron out. Eventually. As a final choice. And I may have been known to give them another round with the de-wrinkle button, just to see if the problem can't be fixed without coming out full force with the ironing board and all."

She laughs. And shakes her head a little in pure disbelief.

I sigh, looking at her ironing with my iron, and say..... "that iron is so old, I really need to throw it away and get a new one....or at least clean it up a little."

"How old is it?"

"Well, we got it when we were married."

She laughs really big again.......(I am so glad I am here for her comedic ironing pleasure)......"Kimberly, do you know how many irons I've been through since being married?---Around 10-15."

I sat there in complete shock and awe. And made a mental note. I'm going out this week and buying me a brand new, shiny, General Electric or Black & Decker, or whoever it is that makes irons in today's world. And it will have that automatic shut-off option, and a steam option, and I hope I can get it in a cool color, like orange or purple or something. And you know what else......I may just bring it home and use it. But don't hold your breath, and certainly don't look too closely at our clothing the next time you see us. Because if it's wrinkled....I'm blaming it on L.L. Bean.


Besides, I found this little tidbit on Wikipedia concerning ironing:

• Many modern fabrics (developed in or after the mid-twentieth century) are advertised as needing little or no ironing.

Now, I don't know about you....but I think all my clothes have been developed in or after the mid-20th century......and with the whole new-age DE-WRINKLE button.......who really needs an iron, anyway?

But, if I were to need one, and since I'm already planning to get me a brand spanking new shiny one......maybe you could suggest what the best one to buy would be....kind of like my own personal Consumers Report group........:)

Saturday Showcase......Tyner Beth and her "big" words.

• A couple of weeks ago, Tyner Beth brought home her papers......and they all had 100's on them. She also had a reading test in the pack that had a high score of 105!!

• She used a WOW word in her answer....."obedient". Way to ago, TB. (What a smart little girl....she must take after her mother in striving to achieve academic excellence, instead of her Dad's theory of "skating by")

please hear me singing it, in my best Sinatra voice..."Regrets,...I've had a few".

However, he continues in the song "My Way"......... "but too few to mention". Unlike dear Frank, I am about to mention a couple of them. Oh, don't worry, I'm not going all the way back to 1989. Nah, I'm staying with those that just so happened to occur on Thursday of this week.

************************

~~~My youngest child was scheduled to attend a field trip, not with her grade, but with the after-school program. They would be leaving at 2:30 and not arriving home until after 9:00 p.m. Both of the boys had baseball games. I cannot be in two places at one time.....I have tried, it doesn't work, and if they don't figure out how to clone me soon, it never will.

This is the first field trip of any of my kids that I have not been on, or have not sent my Mom on, in order for them to "have somebody". You know "just in case". Because you never know when someone is going to need money for a souvenir, or a slushy, or a jacket for inclement weather, or ...you get the idea. And by the way, just who the heck is going to take pictures of this event??? I worried myself silly over these facts. She is my baby, you know.

And let it be known to all that she survived. She arrived home very sleepy, very tired, and informed me she had bruises on her bottom from falling down so much at Super Skate. (And all I can think is how picture worthy those moments would have been, and I missed them.) I realize her skating ability did not increase by leaps and bounds, so therefore, I will have the opportunity to get that shot at a later date. I'm sure of it.

• I regret worrying about her being "okay" without me. She was just fine.

*************************

~~~I arrived at school yesterday to bring the baby child an extra pair of socks for the skating rink. I neglected to check myself in a mirror before leaving home. I threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt because the sun decided to stay out longer than 2 minutes yesterday afternoon and it seemed like a novel idea for spring. My light khaki shorts apparently did not have enough dye in their fabric to hide the turquoise paisley print on my under garment. (and right now, I bet you're glad this isn't a picture post.)

I would like to state for the record a couple of things: 1) I do not usually choose to look in the mirror at my backside....because well, it's disturbing. I know what it looks like, and who would want to remind theirself. So, I didn't check the mirror from behind on my way out the door so quickly. I'll count that one as my fault. 2) I had conversations with so many folks at the school, of which included, each of the children's teachers, who all saw me turn and leave. And also spoke to or chatted briefly with various other faculty, staff, and parents waiting to go on the aforementioned field trip, and even helped answer the phone in the front office for a few minutes, so the office staff, saw me too.

I would have assumed before this post, that most, if not all of them, were my "friends". That is not the case today. All of them had to see the turquoise paisley print glaring them down from my fanny. No one said a word.

• I regret not buying solid flesh colored under garments (also known as granny panties) to wear everyday so that this never happens. Scracth that.....it is a lie. I just regret not turning around soon enough......as in, BEFORE I left for the school instead of noticing it upon returning home.

***********************

~~~The boys are dressed in uniform, bat bags loaded and ready to roll. I hop in the driver's seat, and turn the ignition. Click, click, click, click. The battery is dead. That is obvious. But, I have no idea why. I just returned from school. The car has only been off for maybe 30 mintues, and it was fine before that.....how is the battery dead? I try again. Because clearly if I turn the key harder, the battery will know that I mean business, and will get in line and act right, and crank this sucker up because we have ballgames to attend.

The battery is not intimidated by me at all. It responds with another round of .....click click click. I call Temple. Because of his distance in proximity to the SUV in question, I know he can't really help me. But I call anyway, because this is what I do in a crisis. He says there's no point in trying to go in the other, older SUV, because it too, has a dead battery. Lovely.

I bet you are wondering why we have 3 vehicles when we only have 2 drivers (of legal age). It's a genetic disorder I inherited from my father. And you will understand when I tell you how we fixed this day's dead battery dilema. I call down to mom and dad's house. "Hey mom, the battery is dead in the car, and the other one has the same problem. Can you come pick us all up in Dad's truck because we have chairs and bat bags and all that stuff?". Sure. And so mom comes up to get us.

Dad is not feeling well so he can't go to the games, nor does he get on the phone to give me a lecture about not eating in the vehicle, not tracking dirt all in the floor, etc, etc,. See, I didn't stress too long about the problem, because Dad has the equivalent of a small car lot on his property. He has 5 vehicles and only 2 drivers. Sure there's the off chance that one or more of those may have a dead battery at times as well, but out of the 5, we'll find something that can get us from point A to point B.

• I regret this all happened on the day that Dad wasn't feeling well enough to pretend to argue with me, in person or over the phone, concerning me "running the roads" in his truck and thus "wasting all the fuel" in his vehicles. :) I love those moments.

************************

~~~ For breakfast yesterday, the kids wanted toaster strudel, strawberry. I heated them up, and decorated them with the lovely packet of icing. On the boys, in icing, I wrote 3 for 3. As best I could with gooey icing that melts on hot toaster strudel. They looked at it and I asked could they figure it out, because to me, it was obvious. They shout all sorts of things, like it was some guessing game, never hitting on the right answer.

Of course, to their credit, the word "for" was sloppily oozing into the 3's on either side. And you had to turn the strudel to a different angle to read it anyway because I had made the 3's to big to begin with. Finally, I had to explain to them that it was my way of boosting their confidence for the big games tonight......hoping they would go 3 for 3.

Oooohhh......good one, Mom. Both of their teams lost their games tonight. Rivers had a walk, and a hit, but was thrown out at first, and never had an opportunity to have a third at bat. Walt had two strike-outs and a walk. No one went 3 for 3. The toaster strudel trick didn't work.

• I regret trying to sway the baseball gods with sugar icing. However, because I am a rebel.....on this morning's toaster strudels I wrote " F R I ", in large letters, all capitalized, taking up the entire length and width of the strudel. I laid them on the table and asked them if they knew what that was.......they smile and say -- FRIDAY!! Ha......I win. Thursday may not have been my day......but Friday, well, I'm ready for you.....I even have on black shorts today!

I am like Frank afterall......sometimes it may be a bad day, but I did it my way....anyway.

Cooking Camp........."Unfried Chicken"

Now, look....I know y'all have all seen this recipe before. In some form or another. And you've probably even made it in your own kitchen on several occasions......but I must include it because you may have forgotten about it, like me. Also, it was a cooking camp session, and even though I only had one camper....her efforts are still worthy of praise!!

The fact is, I have seen this recipe countless number of times, but seriously, I always forget about it. Then a few months ago, I ran across it again on another blog and decided I would try to remember to fix it. My brain shuts down 2 seconds after I remember what I forgot to remember though, so the evil cycle continued. Then, when I looked in my recipe box for corn pudding for Easter, I found a card with the title "Unfried Chicken" ....... so I pulled it out and decided to let the kids help out. It's just a little healthier version of battered and deep fried chicken fingers.

What's not to love about getting to play with your hands in a big plate of crushed corn flakes? The boys had no idea the fun they were missing!!

Look at that cutie in the kitchen........

Here's our secret ingredient for the seasoning flavors.....yum. And of course, the kids find great humor in the brand name of one bottle. Great humor. It's like comedy club central around here folks.

Seriously.....healthy and tasty....what a combination. Don't they look like they came straight out of the KFC bucket? And they were baked. And they tasted so good. And hello?.....I don't even eat corn flakes......frosted flakes=yes, corn flake=no. But those darn things make the best crust you've ever seen.

So, once again.....go to the sidebar and click on the link to House of Bowling Recipes to view this recipe along with all the others we've posted......or just be lazy and click right HERE to view only the "Unfried Chicken" recipe.

Our VERY traditional, Easter Sunday celebration....also known as an activity the American Academy of Pediatrics would frown upon.

Sure, we're just like all the other "normal" families around the world, who celebrate Easter with brightly colored hard-boiled eggs. And like so many others......we, again, in an attempt to seem "normal", even gather all the brightly colored eggs and hide them for the children. Which is commonly known as an "Easter Egg Hunt". Maybe you've participated in one before.

• See, here's a little cutie, new to the family this year, finding an egg on his first ever Easter Sunday egg hunt.

It all seems harmless enough. And it is, essentially, right up until all 228 hard-boiled, brightly colored Easter eggs have been found by all the lovely children. Which by the way, just a little FYI, it takes substantially longer to hide 228 eggs than it does to find them.



Back to the issue at hand......the egg hunt is normal. It's our other family tradition that comes so heavily scrutinized by outsiders. Oh, who am I kidding, it's been condemned by even straight up family members. Nonetheless, traditions stand. And our VERY traditional, albeit non-traditional amongst the rest of Easter goers on Resurrection Sunday, is the Easter Egg Battle. You know, where you throw the Easter eggs at all your cousins, and Uncles, and great Aunts twice removed, and any friends that may happen to have been dragged along for the family luncheon. What? This is not something you do on Easter? Hmmm. Imagine that. So common to us, and so foreign to others. Maybe you are the weird ones? Ever thought of it that way? Me, either.




We do have rules, you know, concerning the egg fight. Pregnant women, those over 80, people with heart conditons and small babies (if the mother chooses) really need to remove themselves from the battle arena. And any others that may not want to particpate. (Who wouldn't want to participate?---oh, there's a bunch of them.) Well, if that's the case, then you must get out of the yard area and sit yourself up on the porch, or go inside altogether, if you don't trust others to obey the rules.




Here's another new little man this Easter. He's already found his basket full of eggs, and heard the announcement that it was almost time for the Egg Battle to begin. Well, he heard the ruckus and didn't want to miss out on all the fun, so he's chasing after his basket of eggs as fast as he can. But to no avail.....his momma took him up to the porch to the safety zone.

• I think this is some sort of a pre egg fight warm up that Scot is exhibiting for us. It's similar to the chicken dance that Elmo does. Although, unlike Scot, we will never know if Elmo wears Hanes or not.

• Look, there's a seasoned veteran of the egg battle. Do you know how I can tell? No, you can't possibly know, because you are still in pure disbelief over this whole post. Doubting that such a tradition really exists. Well, I know because of his clever postioning, in the ditch, near the road. The children are absolutely not permitted to get close to the road. See, we have rules and boundaries. I'm not saying all the adults always follow them, but they have been established.

• Oh, look, the egg fight is in full force. People are running all over the place and the egg yolk is flying! Oh, my. Do you know who that is that's getting picked on? Recognize her? She's a doctor. Yep, been to med-school and everything. Even has a fancy diploma hanging in her office that says she's the real deal. I think they even let her teach other kids to be doctors. That's a scary thought. She's the ring leader in this whole egg-fight battle. Well, her and my mother. What a pair. She's our cousin.....and my children's PEDIATRICIAN. I'm thinking the AAP has no idea how she celebrates the day the tomb was found empty. I'm also thinking we shouldn't tell them either.

• Here's Scot again....after he got all loosened up from the chicken dance, he's showing us some of his Keanu Reeves, Matrix skills. Basically, if you ask me, it's just another adult picking on a little kid.

• See, look. The proof is in the pictures. The children look harmless to me.

• Or, maybe not. Kids, they can be deceiving at times. But really, what's a little yolk in the face, between family?

• Another "adult" picking on a kid.....and she's even a little girl. What a shame. It is Jack. Now, everybody knows your name.

• Now, this, this right here, it looks to me like there's going to be a little trouble.

• I hate to say I told you so, but, I told you so.

• Wait just a cotton-picking minute. All the eggs have been thrown, all the egg pieces leftover after the first few passes, have also been thrown. No more solid yolks have been found.....all is beginning to settle. And what is that "doctor" doing over there with those young 'uns?

• Aha. Water balloons......oh. what. fun. Now, the eggs, well, unless someone actually just rubs it in real good, up close and personal, you can shake most of the yolk and such off. Because it's still kind of dry and crumbly. But she had to go and involve a liquid, as usual. Last year it was a 2-liter coke. At least this time it was only water. However, now we can have hard-boiled egg yolk mixed with water, on our clothes and in our hair. Divine. Her knowledge....it knows no bounds. I'd like to see who tutored her through med-school. They earned every penny, I guarantee you that.
• Now, here's a fine lesson, kids. Always remember, no matter how smart you think you are.....there's always someone still a clever step ahead. Uncle George had saved some snow (it only snowed once here in Alabama, but he managed to salvage a small bucket full in the freezer for several weeks, waiting for just an occasion like this.) He informed his sister (my mother) of it's whereabouts. And she promptly marched down the steps, off the porch and into the battle arena.....with two fists full of 2 month old, slushy snow. How's that for a little Easter Blessing?

• The good doctor again. From afar, and I mean really afar, people might have mistaken this for REALLY LARGE DANDER. But eventually they will be close enough to get a whiff. For all I know, she could have went into the clinic or made hospital rounds this morning looking like this. I mean, unless she took a bath when she returned home, yesterday. Which I'm sure she did. Remember, she has a degree from medical school. Even so, I bet she still stinks. Anybody for egg salad?

• Just to prove a point that we are your average American family......the kids played ball right out in the egg graveyard. See, we are normal. Most of the time.

• I had to include this. We had a feast spread on the tables on the porch. Everything from Uncle George's fried fish and hushpuppies, Karisa's grape salad, my corn pudding, Mom's potato salad and black-eyed peas, ham, mac and cheese, etc.etc.etc.......nothing much suited this little guy. Which is fine. Picky eaters are welcome in the family all the same. However, the problem arose when, 2 hours later, (after egg hunting, egg fighting, water balloning and baseball playing) --he was hungry and still asking the lady who brought him to please unlock the car so he could get his sandwich. Guess who the lady was? Yep, the doctor. The AAP probably wouldn't look so highly on that either. But again, mums the word from me.

I do think this picture is too cute of him having his "dinner on the grounds". Do y'all remember those? Oh, I loved having them at my PawPaw's church. This brings back memories. Just like old times. Except of course, when I was a kid, nobody kept my sandwich locked in a car for hours on end.

• Look, I think this picture pretty much sums it all up. She's hitting herself in the head with an egg. No one is throwing anything at her. It's a self-induced egg battle of her own. And again, I have entrusted her to care for my children. What was I thinking? :) Oh, now I remember......she's a great gal, and I love her so much. And really, when you get past all this dysfunctional stuff, she's highly intelligent. Sort of.

• Well, that's it for Easter Egg Battle '09. I know you are sad....but there's always next year. And you can always come join us, if you're brave enough. And if you want to go home smelling like rotten eggs. Hope you don't live too far. Could be a long ride.

This last photo I include only for nostalgia. Because someday, I hope it doesn't come soon, this porch might not be around. My grandkids may never get to sit a spell on that swing and listen to all the stories that it could tell. But, rest assured, they will know the rules of the egg fight.

Don't you just love what happened on the 3rd day?...I sure do.

"For to those who are perishing the message of the cross is foolishness, but to us who are being saved it is God's power." ~ 1 Corinthians 1:18.

What a wonderful day the Lord has made!! We've certainly had a blessed Easter weekend......and how fortunate that we actually get to serve a Risen Savior, not just today, but EVERY day. He is amazing. That's all I can say.

• Tomorrow I'll be making an attempt to sort through the 214 photos I took during the annual family egg fight. And maybe I'll even get a post up. Because I just bet, all day long, it was hard for you to concentrate on the prize plastic eggs, and the stone being rolled away, and chocolate/hollow bunnies with beady candy eyes, and the (leftover) egg salad sandwiches you'd be eating tonight for supper, and the scrumptious lunch you had with the family, all because you could hardly contain yourself from the excitement about the pics of the egg fight with our dysfunctional family.

I'm not expecting you will admit it, but you've been on pins and needles all day, I know it. :)

The White T-shirt....for her, it's the only proper bedtime attire.

Tyner Beth has always, always requested a white T-shirt when bedtime nears. Oh, sure, she has sleek princess pajamas, in fact, multiple sets. In varying hues of pink, purple or blue. And we've had Barbie gowns, red flannel Christmas plaid numbers, even classic rudolph longjohns, only with pink backgrounds......yep, we've had it all. And from time to time, she will even wear those, but her favorite clothing for the slumbers of night.....is a white T-shirt.

I should probably go ahead and clarify one item of interest right now. The white T-shirt, it doesn't come from her pajama drawer. Heck, it doesn't even come in her size, but it still happens to have, just the right fit. You see, the shirt has to come from her Daddy. And usually, it comes straight off his back. That's right. You read it correctly, it is the one he has worn as an undershirt all day.

Now, just to be fair, it is the new millenium, and Temple has a climate controlled office and car.....so, the undershirt is still clean from his hard day at work. And obviously, if it is ever a day where some form of manual labor, (i.e., he had to walk too far, in the hot sun, from the parking lot at Brio or Superior Grill, to his waiting table for lunch), well, we give her a clean shirt from his freshly laundered pile that the laundry fairy did while he was enjoying his lunch at Brio. Thankyouverymuch.

(Oh, no, really, I didn't want to eat lunch at Brio, why, the laundry fairy doesn't have time for lunch anyway. :)

The point is, the white T-shirt is what gives her comfort. Earlier last weekend, before sitting down to write this post, she wasn't feeling well. In fact, she had been sick all day, low-grade fever, complaining that her stomach, head, arm, here, there, everywhere, hurts. I assume it was what some call a "fever virus" as she was better within 24 hours and really just slept all day and night. She had a small spell with vomitting some sweet tea, so we went into the bathroom to get a shower and change her pajamas. We replaced them with none other than......one of her Daddy's white T-shirts. And she was able to settle back down to rest...almost instantly. It's the white shirt, it's her comfort.


Which is what reminded me to make this post. You see, I love for you all to read the blog. I enjoy writing from time to time and making you laugh out loud or think silently. Plus, who doesn't get excited to see a post from cooking camp?.....we all do, but I guess that's because we are the ones getting to eat it!! And certainly, I get a big kick out of your comments. But in reality, it's all here for our family, specifically for my brain that keeps losing itself, daily. Because, these memories, this journey of life.....it's awesome, and I don't want to forget a minute (or a blog post) of it!

I think it is just precious that for years now, Tyner Beth has asked to sleep in her Daddy's shirt. The shirt that he has been wearing all day. She likes that it has a faint scent of his deoderant still lingering around.

I think it's even sweeter that she has a father, who never hesitates to "give her the shirt, right off his back". He's that kind of Daddy. I hope she keeps asking for his shirt, for many, many years to come, even after she's too big for it to cover from her head to her toes.

Cooking Camp......red velvet cookies!!!

• Rivers' birthday always seems to fall during our Spring Break Road Trips. Which means, he doesn't get to pick what he wants me to cook for his "birthday meal", he gets to choose where we eat on the road. However, the birthday menu of choice is a tradition we stick to, whenever we get back home. So, we're a couple weeks late, but tonight he ate his birthday meal of London Broil on buttered rolls, salad, corn on the cob, and baked beans. And for dessert, he ordered.....Red Velvet Cookies!!

Part of their birthday dessert treat is getting to help me make it. Alone. Unhindered by other siblings who always want to be the one to crack all the eggs. Because, egg-cracking is an activity they will fight for around this house. I'm thinking of blowing all caution to the wind one day and not having a care for government bail-outs and economic woes......you know what I'm gonna do......I'm planning on buying them each their own dozen eggs to crack, at will. Because I'm a big spender like that.

Back to baking.....so, we whipped up some red velvet cookies and Rivers made a batch of red velvet icing....yum-o.

Then he spread it on real nice....making a terrific cookie sandwich. I do have a plan with all this cooking camp non-sense.....I'm trying to relinquish my duties little by little. Now, I almost have it where they can bake their own birthday treats, heck they can even serve up an entire meal from scratch if needed.......sometime soon, I'm going to try their hand at sewing their own clothes. What? Mary and Laura did it all the time on Little House on the Prairie.


Walt said this masterpiece reminded him of those new Oreo cakesters....except better. I agree. Except you know what's better than one little red velvet sandwich cookie?

A whole bunch of them. Waiting for you. Calling your name.

Click HERE to be taken to the House of Bowling blog for the Red Velvet Cookie recipe. Because if you plan on staying up late sewing a new calico dress for Ma Ingalls, you're gonna need a batch of these cookies.