I finished a 5K.

I thought it best not to lie by creating a title that said "I ran a 5K". 

But who knows, one day I might just be able to type that title as certain truth.

I did manage to complete a 5K on Friday. It was something on my little "life to do list". 

And I'd like to report that my time was a personal best.  40 minutes. I'd really also like to say it was more along the lines of 39 minutes and 52 seconds. Because really 39:52 sounds and looks so much better. But sadly, they had already removed the timer by the time I crossed the finish line.  Military folks. They are quick. And orderly. And they can run fast, without even breathing heavy, for a long time. 

Anyway, back to my personal best time. And we'll go with 39:52.  

Personal best because it is my only time on record.  As this was my first ever 5K.  First ever race.

Unless of course you count the 50 yard dash, on the playground back in 1979, when I totally smoked the other 2nd graders on that fateful day in May.

But I'm guessing that doesn't count.

At any rate, for this 5K,  I could only run in short little intervals, then walk in much longer intervals. In fact, I ran the first 1/2 mile and managed to stay with the "pack".....who later left me many blocks behind.  But I finished a darn 5K.....and I couldn't be happier. Except to report some other news about the 5K.

But that will be later.  After I can quit crying about how badly my upper thighs hurt. :)

Elder Son.

So, a few weeks ago, Elder Son came home with an application to enter the Campus King & Queen contest for the high school. The competition is based on the students academic qualities, their community involvement, school activities, sports, clubs, etc. etc. 

 As a 7th grader, he was ineligible to win the title of "King" as that spot was limited to a 10-12th grade guy. But we encouraged him to join the fun and turn his form back in as scheduled. He struggled with wanting to participate, as none of his friends were doing so, but his Dad and I both reminded him the interview with the judges would be good practice for him....now and later in life.  And the information for the application and interview, we will keep on the computer so that we just add to it each year, and by the time he reaches his senior year, we should have a great "resume" of sorts on our hands to get him started in the real world, hopefully for help with scholarships for college, programs for work, etc. etc.

Elder Son went to his interview on a Sunday afternoon at the school....and he rocked it.  They asked him what was his favorite subject, he replied, math and science.  They asked him what quality he looked for in a friend, he replied, loyalty. They asked him things like who he would like to trade places with, what he liked about living in Smalltown, USA, his favorite sport, etc.etc.  and what he would change about himself if he could....."I'd be tall". The judges thought he was so cute, they loved him. Of course I knew they would.  I ask "What's not to love"?

At any rate, a couple of weeks later it was time for the big event.  The scores had long been tallied and now the stage was waiting.  Elder Son was awarded Campus King 2nd Alternate.  See how cute he is in the photo below?

Yep.  That's my boy.  All grown up in a sport coat.  And from the looks of the photo, you can see why he wants to be "tall".  However, those boys have had about 5 extra years of growing than my man, who at present happens to be only 3 inches shorter than his mother. Sad, but true. I'm assuming he will pass me, possibly even before he become an actual teenager. Sob.

Now here's where I could end this story and you could all ooohh and aaahh about that sweet, good looking, 12 year old that took a place in the high school Campus King contest. I'll wait here for a minute while you ooohhh and aaahhh some more. He deserves it. 

But I would be remiss if I didn't finish the story.  This is kind of like back in the late 70's and early 80's, when I would come in the bank to see my mom at work, and I'd be wearing a stylish sweater or that coveted rabbit fur coat, and one of the tellers would say, "Oh, Kim, you look so cute, where'd you get that outfit?"  And my mom would reply, "oh, that's from the hand-me-down bags that her cousin Tiff sent."  And that same teller would have fume coming out of her ears and say, "Now Joan, when somebody asks that all you have to say is it came from Parisian, because it probably did, originally, and there's no need to say it came from the hand me down bag."

My mom never could bring herself to say that though.  We didn't really care if it came from the hand me down bag, we just liked the clothes, were proud to wear them and greatly appreciated the thoughtfulness of our family. That was the real story.

Now, back to Campus King.  That picture you see, of the 3 winners.....well that was the entire set of contestants for the Campus King portion.  3.

Sure, Campus King and Queen was open to all the students at the high school. Anyone in any grade could enter.  Only 3 boys choose to do so. And my sweet boy was up against 2 senior boys.  That's right, that little 7th grader was pitted against those 12th grade guys.  His application to submit for the interview with the judges had only 1 years worth of credentials at BHS....there's had 6.   And those are two wonderful senior guys, with many accomplishments.  

But I was just proud of my little guy for entering.  For doing so well with the interview. For looking like a rock star on stage. For smiling that precious smile with those dimples showing.

Sure, if you just look at the number ratio, he came in third in a competition of 3 guys. He came in last. But I'm looking at a different number ratio.....I say he may have came in 3rd, but he beat out all the other guys at that high school, including those other seniors, juniors or sophomores, who didn't bother to enter, so that's not last.  That's far from last.  He stepped up to the plate when it mattered to us, when it mattered to him, when it was important to represent his school......and that's the real story.  

And the fact that he looks so cute in a navy sport coat, well that is just the icing on the Campus King cake. 

The difference between boys and girls....

...other than the obvious. 

I'm actually talking about in reference to getting ready for a Saturday night production.  And the production in question would be the Campus King and Queen event for the high school.  This was Elder Son just about an hour and half away from show time....

And this was him ready for the big stage....cleans up nice, eh?

February Family Party!!

So, last month we started our newest family tradition....monthly home parties.  Celebrations, just because.  Nothing attached, no birthday, holiday, life altering event.....but rather, just because.  And as February was winding down, I reminded Elder Son (whose turn it was to act as host) that he needed to be thinking about his party.  I told him I thought he should take advantage of the Olympic time and incorporate into his party.  We all love the Olympics, why not?  So, on Sunday afternoon we all received invitations to a "Milkshake and Fries Olympics 2010" party to be held after church.

We broke out some festive colorful party cups:

And some yummy ice cream:

And Elder Son and I went to town on blending up some milkshakes.

It appeared as though the party was going really well, just a relaxed evening all huddled together with:

Milkshakes

Fries

 (Elder Son even added cheese and bacon bits to kick them up to party level)

And the Olympics.

Then, as with all parties, some drama had to ensue.  Baby Girl asked where the dessert was, and why didn't we have to change into our party attire, and none of us were really even supposed to be there as Elder Son had announced that you couldn't get in without showing your invitation and clearly none of us had thought to bring our invitation.

Elder Son sat on the couch sipping his milkshake unphased by her feeble attempts to bring this party down.  He just ignored her and kept watching the ski slopes. He loves a good competition.  

However, Middle Boy decided it was time to explain a few things to the sibling beneath the food chain from him.  So he piped up in defense of his brother and stated that

A) not all parties have to be alike and

B) why are you complaining, we didn't even have to bring any food to this event and

C) if you remember correctly at your party we all had to bring the snacks and

D) I happen to like having the milkshakes and fries and

E) it doesn't matter what you wear it can still be a party and

F) if you are so concerned with dessert why don't you go get some for all of us.  

That piped her down for a little while, but she still couldn't stand the thoughts of no dessert.  A girl after my own heart. So she scurried into the kitchen to come back bearing a plate full of oreos. Double Stuff.  Is there any other? :)

However, Elder Son, having not said a word, slipped in the kitchen as well and returned with a real dessert. Granted it was the leftover from a few days back, but nonetheless, it is Chocolate Chip Cheese Ball with Animal Crackers....a real live homemade dessert.

And all was well at the party in House of Bowling again.

Look, we even dug around and found some oreos that represented the Olympics.....

The two younger party goers left shortly after their shakes went dry and the fries were gone. The Olympics couldn't hold their interest as Middle Boy has a fixation with Apolo Ohno and Shaun White, and neither would be appearing on the big screen, so they ventured off to find a taped episode of Cake Boss to watch instead.  Their loss was Elder Son's gain, as he bellied up to the Olympic coverage with the entire plate of chocolate chip cheese ball all to himself. Life is good when you're the oldest.

So, no party attire, no decorations, no fancy conversation.  Just a simple Olympic Viewing right in our living room, with Milkshakes and Fries.....GREAT JOB, Elder Son.  We enjoyed it immensely.

The well of my tecnological woe just gets deeper and deeper.

So, I'm entered in an upcoming 5K run.  Which is a misnomer, as I probably won't be doing a lot of actual running per se, mostly just walking as fast as I can to finish the race.  However, I have tried to start running a little for the last few weeks to prepare myself (walk a few minutes, then run a few minutes) just to try to build my stamina up a little.  I am no runner.  I have never been a runner.  Just not my thing, I wish it were, but it's not. Still, I'm trying. 

 

Which brings me to this post.  This sad, sad post.  On Saturday, the weather was gorgeous, so I trekked out to the dirt road near our home and set out for a walk/run.  I often take my iphone and use the timer on the clock settings to gauge my walk/run intervals.  As I was descending towards home, after a 30 minute outing, the iphone slipped from my hand and went out with a thrust as I was swinging my arms forward while moving.  It landed upside down or face side up, onto the pebble strewn dirt road.  And when I reached down to retrieve it, I flipped it over and this is what I found:

 

 

No, that's not Spiderman's web, that's the glass of the iphone, shattered into a nice arachnid home design.  I thought about crying, but decided that wouldn't help, so I did what I always do in times of crisis.  I alerted my husband.  And prayed for an apple of a miracle in the meantime. No miracle would come. Apple or otherwise. 

 

So, I marched into the Apple store on Monday morning, and walked right up to the "Genius Bar" as they call it.  The Genius Bar is the counter at which you speak to the geeks and beg their mercy for help with your mac masterpiece. Or at least that's what I do at the Genius Bar.

 

But I wouldn't advise it.....as there was no mercy for the shattered screen scenario I presented.  I was really hoping for a miracle, a cheap miracle at least.  I mean really, they can fix a windshiled in a car pretty easily, and glass doesn't cost a whole lot, especially for that small of a piece that would fit the iphone.  But alas, my "genius" helper started talking to me about the sensor receptors that are enabled between my fingertips and the digitizer, and blah, blah, blah.......and so I knew, a cheap miracle does not include words like digitizer and sensor receptors.  I would have to pay the price to have it replaced.  And apparently, the small 4 inch size piece of glass that is made for the iphone is also made of diamond, or at least that's what I gathered from the price quote.  What's a girl to do?  So, I asked could it be fixed that day?  Sure, it can be fixed while you wait, m'am. Is that what you want us to do?  Yes, I nod.

 

Off goes my "genius", behind a shiny silver sleek doorway at the Apple Store.  He returns 4 minutes later. 

 

Four minutes later. With my new glass installed on my iphone. Do you hear me?  It took him 4 minutes.  And with the cost of that service, I could have bought a new windshiled for my car, and if it was a good deal at Glass Masters, I could have even had enough to buy a new windshield for your car. Seriously?  4 minutes. digitizer or no digitizer they are running one heck of a racket at the apple store....and I fell into their hands by my own stupidity.

 

I'm thinking it will be best if I go purchase myself one of those $10 sports watches at the Target store and use it as my "interval timer" from now on.  Or just give up on running altogether.....it seems to be quite an expensive sport for me.

 

Middle Child, the comedien.

This afternoon in the car, while stopping for a quick after school snack, Middle Boy really pulled one on us. A new joke he learned at school. Every single one of us in the car fell for it, hook, line and sinker.  He was so effective with his delivery, so believable throughout his questioning, so excited about a new movie to talk about (and we don't even go to the movies very often).....  I wrinkled my nose in digust when he asked the question, thinking to myself, that would not be a very appropriate movie title. Then he gave us the punchline and we busted with laughter....and it felt good to laugh that hard.  I've had a couple of days with stuff that was no laughing matter, nothing serious, just trivial bits of life that are absolutely not fun...post to come later.  But here's the joke of the century...try it on your friends and see if you can make them laugh too! 

Middle Boy:   Hey Mama, have you seen that new movie "Constipation"?

Mama(with wrinkled nose):  No and I have no idea what you are talking about.

Middle Boy:   That's because it hasn't come out yet.

I heart the Olympics.

Snowboarding. Figure Skating. Biathalon. Speed Skating. Ski Jumps. You name it.  I love it. Even Curling....although I have NO idea of it's rules, point system, or the theory behind sliding a stone down a lane of ice.

I even love all the olympic commercials that come on between the shows. I heart the Olympics. Do you?

I have no clue where the pictures went when they vanished.....

however, I am ever so thankful I  was able to get them back.  Okay, not me, exactly.  As we all know I am technologically challenged, digital camera challenged, card reader recovery stuff challenged.....and well, the list could continue but to cut it short, let's just skip ahead and say I'm basically just "life in general" challenged.  There, that should cover it.

Anyway, I promise, in fact I would even pinky swear, that I stood on that court Tuesday night, with all the other REAL press people, and pretended I knew what I was doing on that shiny parquet floor.....and in doing so, I took several hundred photos.  I know that because my photo count reader went from 693 to 274......in the course of less than 2 hours.  And I managed to even sneak a peek at a few of those photos during time-outs and half time, and I KNEW they were there. 

I even checked the camera viewfinder again after the game, as I was standing in the media room (oh yes, I even got invited to the media room because of my press badge...and was told I could ask questions if I wanted....um, yeah,"life challenged" would also include this area as well.  I was happy to be in the media room, take a few pics of the Q & A session, but I would not be participating in it otherwise.  Basketball terminology is not my strong suit (are you surprised???)....as I once asked the coach why we didn't just play 1 on 1 in defense....and he laughed in my face.  I have later learned it's called man coverage, or man to man, or whatever....and that they also have zone coverages as well as box and 1, and crazy other stuff.  I personally still hold to the fact that if you'd just play 1 on 1 defense things would work out fine.  But, alas, no one has of yet asked me to begin my coaching career....so I'll just keep my playbook to myself and let the others suffer on their own will.

Back to the pictures.....they were THERE.  I packed up my camera bags, hubby loaded them in the car and we headed towards home, arriving to slumber city around midnight.  Too late for me to begin sorting through all those photos to begin the editing process.  However, first thing the next morning, I pulled that card out of the camera, stuck it in my laptop and waited to see if I had any pic that would be newspaper worthy........and the pics were not there.  They were not anywhere.  Not anywhere to be found. Vanished....and they did it like most of those with a criminal mind....in the middle of the night, under the cover of darkness.  It was the craziest thing I'd ever seen...there were pictures I had taken as late as 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday afternoon that were on the card, but absolutely none of the game just hours later.

But I outsmarted them this time.  I took my card to a photo shop in town, owned by a very smart man.  A very smart man who is not technologically or digital camera or card reader recovery stuff challenged.  And am happy to report that with his cunning skills, a software program, and lots of patience......he was able to recover all the files.  That's right....he found, retrieved,  rescued and restored all 645 pictures I had taken at the basketball game.  And I couldn't have been happier....breathing a huge sigh of relief. 

Sure, it's just our local, weekly, newspaper, and it's barely mediocre pics that I offer up, but it's important to me that I get something to represent these kids who work so hard at every game. 

So, I figured since I went to all the trouble to get these pictures back, I might as well show you a few.  Let me say right now, sadly, there was no Miracle on the Court for our boys on Tuesday night. As was evidenced live and in person, the team they played is ranked No. 1 for a reason.  They are that good.  Their record is 28-2.  Wow.  That's impressive, I don't care who you are.  But the point is, our guys made it to the Sweet 16....and as I said before, that's nothing to hang your head about! 

Yep, the other team won.  And so what if their boys could do this....often.

We still had the sweetest scorekeeper this side of the Mississippi.

And the best student section, with some fanatic fans.

Really fanatic fans.

Maybe those gals were an omen of sorts, a sign of things to come.....as I had one more hair raising day trying to find the vanishing pictures.  No need now of course to have your hair standing on it's end.....they were able to be recovered.  And I learned a hard lesson, a lesson that gave me a few dozen more grey hairs to add to the stash I'm collecting atop my noggin.  

Houston, we definitely have a problem.

I went, with press pass around my neck, and took over 400 photos last night at the Regional Semi-Final basketball game. 

Over 400 photos.

That now are NO WHERE to be found. 

Yes, they were all there last night.

Yes, I saw them on the viewfinder of my camera.  

I was so excited about some of them that I couldn't wait to get up this morning to start perusing through the hundreds of favorites I knew I'd have.  Favorites of lay-ups, the cheerleaders, the fans, the SUPER fans, the coach, the scorekeeper, the signs, the dribbling, the passes, the free throw close ups, the entrance of the team, the media room afterwards. 

Over 400 photos. 

NO WHERE TO BE FOUND. 

Not on the camera card, not on the camera, not on the computer when I insert the card to be read.

It's the strangest thing I've ever known. And one of the saddest, at the moment.   

Sweet 16...(in basketball world)

Because of recent events, I'll be getting to use a press pass for the state sporting playoffs, for the second time this school year.  The State sends out these handy dandy press passes for those media folks, even for those who don't know exactly what they are doing (ME), but work pro-bono in order to get the athletes a little press time in the small, weekly edition of the local paper(ME). 

Back in the fall, I had the honor of being on the sidelines, taking pictures of our high school football team as they made a run through to the 2nd round of state playoffs.  It is no secret, football is my favorite sport.  However, I still take pictures for all the other sports as well, but due to the MONO that invaded our home during basketball season, I was unable to attend all the games this year, and thus missed a lot of the action. 

So, it's been nice that these last few weeks I've found a surge of energy and time, and found myself back courtside, taking pictures yet again.  And what a time to be here.  To see these kids give up their hearts and lungs, running up and down the court for just a chance to play one more game.  Just one more game. 

Win the Area Tournament? Check.  They were given that chance to play in one more game, at home even, in the Sub-Regional game. 

Win the Sub-Regional game? Check. They were given that chance to play in one more game, in the Regional Semi-final. 

And so it brings us to where the guys are for now.....mere hours away from playing their hardest, giving it their all, yet again, for the chance to play in just one more game.

They have made it to the Sweet 16 for our classification.  Only 16 teams are left.  It is the first time for our current coach to make it to the Sweet 16.  It is the first time in a long time, over a decade I believe for our school to make it to the Sweet 16.  It must be a great feeling. I think it is, and heck, I don't even know that much about basketball.  But I sure love the emotion captured in the above photo after that Sub-Regional win.  That emotion and exhiliration of .....wow, we just won, I can't believe it, we're going to the next level.....we get to play in one more game!

Sure, there's comes a pinnacle at some point.....we are a mere 3 games away from that view.  Do I think we'll get there?  I can't say for certain, it's probably doubtful.  As tonight, they play the current seeded number 1 team in the state.....tough break for our guys.  As one of the senior players told his mom...."to beat them would be like the biggest miracle in the history of high school ball. " 

I've read about miracles happening. Have you?  As the Olympics have arrived, especially since it's the winter games, you hear a lot of reference to the Miracle on Ice quite often.  I'm sure all of you have as well.....you may have watched it unfold on your 3 channel, rabbit eared, television back in that very moment, or maybe you have watched the not one but two movies that have been made about that game in the history of our nation's great Olympic moments.  

During the Olympic games in 1980, USA's hockey team defeated the Soviet Union's team. A team that was far more than heavily favored. In fact, the Russians were known as the best team in the world.

Not just the best team in their classification. 

Not just the best team in their state. 

Not just the best team in their country. 

But rather, the best team in the world. 

And, as evidenced in 1980, even the best team in the world can be beaten.....it just takes one game. 

No, Al Michaels won't be calling the game tonight for our boys.  No, even if they were to win, they wouldn't have their photos plastered all over Sports Illustrated.  No, you won't find a snippet of the game on an ESPN highlight reel. 

But those boys have one more game to play in.....they have made it to the sweet 16.....and for all of that and more, there's plenty of reasons to hold their heads high.

What's in a name???

Often times during church service, Baby Girl breaks out her inner artist.  We bring out a bucket of crayons or markers from Sunday School and she gets carried away.  She doodles and draws. Usually everyone in the family has a creative "name" design by noon on Sunday.  And our church pew is filled with paper giblets.

A few weeks back, she made me this sweet picture.  With my name.  I smiled sweetly at her and silently mouthed... thank you.  She smiled sweetly and silently mouthed back to me....flip it over....except she wasn't quite as silent and she used some boisterous hand gestures to assimilate the action.  So I quickly did as she asked just to get her settled back down.  And this is what I found on the back:

Am I ever so glad I followed her hand signals...and turned it over.   What's in a name?  A lot.  Especially when your Baby Girl describes you as a pretty faced, very special, Queen.  A name can mean so much....you can evoke lots of memories just with a name.

I love the name Kimberly, my given name.   And I love that if you have met me after the year 1993, late fall to be exact, you know me as Kimberly, because that is what my main squeeze calls me.  My Valentine.  He met me during that time period of fall '93 and of course there's a nice story behind it.  Stop yourself now if you don't want to hear the beginnings of a sappy love story. 

I won't bore you with all the details during the very early stages of our courtship, but I will share with you why he doesn't call me "Kim"....especially when so many others in my life do. 

I take you back to October of '93....we were at college in Auburn, and believe it or not, we were at a party.  I know, I know.  A party?  In college?  Really?  I bet you thought college was all about getting an education and such.....and yes, it is.  And for the most part, I was always busy doing the educational sections of college.....the classes, the tests, the papers, the projects, etc...  but on a rare occasion, like say, maybe Wednesday-Saturday you could find me/us/all other college undergrads, at a sporting event, party, karaoke night, or a gathering of some sort...that pretty much didn't involve any educational qualities.  Unless of course you were majoring in Quantum Physics....those folks rarely made an apperance outside the labratory.  But for the rest of us....fun times, great memories.  And just FYI---I graduated with a 3.4 I believe, even with only buckling down Sunday-Tuesday.

I assume, and according to my father, had I applied myself the rest of every week I could have majored and graduated with a 4.0 in Quantum Physics....but show me the fun in that???  Exactly my point. But back to the story at hand....

On this one occasion, I walked into a party where I really knew only a handful of the several dozen folks in attendance.  The party was celebrating a BIG birthday of a great friend of mine....who was in a sorority.  I wasn't a sorority girl.  I came to Auburn late in the game, junior year.  Besides that fact, I also couldn't have dared ask for more money than my parents were already shelling out just to join a sorority.  And thirdly I was at AU...it didn't matter...everyone is family on the plains....sorority or not.  Alas, it was still hard for me to go to it, I was nervous, anxious and all of that....but free beverages were involved, plus I loved my friend and wanted to celebrate her birthday with her, so I faced my fears and busted on in.   I was thrilled to see a familiar face in the crowd.  Leaning against the living room wall was that boy I had met a couple of weeks earlier in Section 19 at the football game.  He was so captivatingly charming that I had been hoping to run into him again, but had dismissed those thoughts when I realized I didn't even know his last name.  

He recognized me as well and smiled brightly when I came inside. Score. He remembers me...and he's still smiling.  We hit it off that night, I immediately felt at ease, even amidst all the sorority gals.  Later in the night, another good friend who had driven me to the party left early, so that left me to find a ride with someone else. 

That sweet, charming, cute guy with the sparkling eyes that remembered me, seemed like a good idea.  However, I'm from Smalltown, USA....where they always tell you to be real careful out in the "big world" because there are bad people out there.  And we were no longer in Mayberry, anymore.  Or Kansas, Dorothy.  I had no red shoes to click together to get me back to my apartment.  I was left to his mercy to drive me home and all I could do was pray he wasn't a psycho.

I knew in my heart this guy wasn't one of those "bad people".....but just to play it safe, when he asked me my name, I decided to change it up a bit.  Instead of just saying "Kim"....which is what almost everyone had referred to me as for the first 20 years of my life, everyone except my PawPaw anyway....I told him my name was "Kimberly".  Which it is, that part wasn't a lie.  However, when he asked my last name, to throw him off, just in case he was a serial killer on a college campus....I told him it was "Abracadabra".  

That's right.  Meet me....Kimberly Abracadabra.  Sister to Charlie Houdini, Sally Alakazam, and little Johnny Hocus Pocus.

I realized almost immediately it wasn't a good cover name. Duh. Now who sounds like the psycho??  He didn't buy it.  Not for one presto chango/open sesame second. I don't know what came over me.....why didn't I just chunk myself in a common last name category, like Smith or Jones?  Or why not go big and drop a name like Rockefeller, Washington or Einstein?   Oh, yeah, now I remember why...it may have had something to do with those free beverages.  So I blurted out Abracadabra...with a flashy smile on the side. Ta Da!

Abracadabra.  Honest, that's what I said.  Ask him.  He'll tell you the story just the same.  We both remember that night.  The night I tried to fake myself out about what I was really feeling for a guy I had only laid eyes on twice in my entire life.  The night we had our first kiss.  The night I smiled so big after that kiss I thought my cheeks would explode.  The night my heart was taken, but I didn't know it yet, because my mind would not stand for such nonsense reasoning.  

It was the night he said my name....Kimberly.  Just Kimberly.  

I love to hear him say it.  Even this many years later.  I don't mind being called Kim....I'll answer to either.  But from him, he only calls me Kimberly....and I would have it no other way. 

Yep. Enough with the mushy mushy whatever from the early 90's.  That was way back in the day. 

Now, flash forward back to present day.  In light of this clever name explanation, complete with picture, that Baby Girl created for me during Sunday worship, I think I'll ask the husband if he'll just start calling me Queen for short.

Or maybe even this:

Queen Abracadabra---now that has a nice ring to it. Don't you think?  ;)

Cooking Camp at House of Bowling---Blueberry Snack Cake

So, we've been doing  a lot of cooking over here at House of Bowling, we (and I mean I) have just neglected to post it on the blog.....but no more. These photos can't just hang out in a cooking camp folder on my laptop and expect to feel loved.  So, here they are, and expect some more posts like this to come soon.

This particular day we made Blueberry Snack Cake......a yummy recipe I found through another sweet gal's blog who also has fun in the kitchen cooking with her precious girls...Life's Surprises.  She describes this snack cake to be like a big blueberry biscuit....and that's exactly what I'd say it was like as well. Thanks for the recipe!!

My kids enjoyed making it, loved poking the plump blueberries sticking out of the top when it was fresh from the oven, and they also liked the flavor. Elder Son woke up on Saturday morning....right before lunch....eh, teens....therefore, he didn't particpate in the cooking camp portion....just the taste tester portion.

His words, while warming up his second helping in the microwave, "this is good, Mama, I just wish it had sugar inside it like it does on top."

Clearly, had he been slaving away in the kitchen all morning with the rest of us, instead of sleeping his young life away, he would have known it DID have sugar on the inside as well.  We just may, or may not, have went a little over the top with the sprinkling of sugar on the outside before putting it in the oven. :)

Here you'll find the cast of ingredients:

The big lesson for this session....learning to scrape down the edge of the spoon to get an accurate measurement. 

Any fallen blueberry that didn't make it to the bowl, was fair game to be popped into the mouth of whoever caught it.  And in the end, Middle Child and I just ate whatever was left in the carton ourselves. We love fresh blueberries.

The "sprinkling" of sugar on the top of the snack cake begins.  This took a little longer than should be expected, due to the fact that everyone had to practice their own signature Emeril imitations with different variations of his BAM!! 

See what I mean....we practiced sprinkling with A LOT of sugar.  No wonder Elder Son couldn't taste the sugar on the inside. It would appear that it was all on the outside!!! :)

Now I'd like to ask you to go back to the top of this post.  Look again at the photo of the "cast of ingredients".  See anything odd?  Sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, salt, milk, sugar, blueberries, eggs, etc. etc.......it's all there.  Plus one little extra character.  The kids set up the ingredients while I went to retrieve our camera.  They were so proud of their set-up when I returned to the kitchen.  Proud and giggly.  I didn't realize what the joke was until after I had taken the first photo.  Apparently, we have folks from all over who want to participate in House of Bowling cooking camps.  :)

Slinky Dog (from the movie Toy Story) 

Please take the time to spread this message....

A good friend of mine is a volunteer photographer with the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep foundation.  She recently had to do a maternity photo shoot for a couple who will have a very tough, I dare say one of the toughest, trials to face in future days with their sweet angel who has been growing inside her mother's womb.  That sweet angel won't be here for this earth very long after delivery. 

My friend wrote the following on her blog this evening:

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Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

Please help me spread the word about the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep foundation. Even though both local hospitals know about this organization, there are many parents that don't. I've found that blogs and word of mouth are some of the greatest information tools! I greatly appreciate your help!

Go to my photography blog for more info: http://kimlawsonphotography.blogspot.com/2010/02/maternity-session-like-no-other.html 

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And so, sharing it is what I am choosing to do tonight.  This touched my heart, a mother's heart, and I can't imagine what this couple must be feeling....or what they will feel when delivery day arrives.  So I ask that you do indeed spread the message of this wonderful foundation that reaches out to parents, during such a difficult, tragic time in their lives.  Making something good, where at times, all we see is bad.  And while you click over to look at their photo on my friend's photography blog, say a prayer for them.....and for all the other couples who we don't know, who we won't hear about, but who are suffering through this same type of hurting...a hurt I wish they never had to know.  And while you're praying, give a little praise of thanks for the hearts of my friend, and all those other volunteer photographers, who are helping try to ease this pain....capturing moments for the families.

Thanks.

Love hurts.

Mother Teresa said,

 "Love, to be real must cost! It must hurt! It must empty us of self!"

How true.  Have you ever experienced hurt from love? I have. Have you ever had a friend, co-worker, husband, or child betray you? Have you ever experienced loss, in a loved one's death, in financial security, in trust of a spouse?  What about those who are child barren, who are divorced, who are alone, who have had to sit and see their child experience a hurt? 

It hurts. Assuming we really have love for them in our hearts or for the situation being experienced, it hurts a lot. 

God's love for us is certainly real and God's love for us "hurts" sometimes too.

However, God's love didn't "cost" us anything.....unless we choose not to accept it.

Then it will cost us our eternity.

I don't know about you, but that's a price I am not willing to pay....I choose love.  Despite it's hurts.  I choose HIS love.   

The pie they will serve in Heaven, if you want my opinion. :)

The "it" I talked about in the post below is this -- Banana Split Pie.  And in the last 10 days, we've made this recipe 3 times.  And I still don't have any pie left. First we made it for fellowship lunch at Church, a few days later we made it because folks were coming over for dinner, then about a week had passed so we made it because, well, frankly because we didn't get our fill of it to begin with since everyone else kept eating the whole pie!! :)

As it turns out, Elder Boy has a big slab in the afternoons as his after school snack.  And by big slab, I mean he takes about 1/4th of the pie.  Or if only say a 1/3rd is left in the pie plate itself, he has been known to hunker down at the bar with just a fork and not bother with dirtying a new plate. :) Boys....once they reach a certain age they really do eat like a horse. I'm not sure exactly how much a horse eats...but I am assuming it's alot. :) 

Banana Split Pie....I'm telling you right now you should fix yourself one....and soon.  I'll try to get our recipe posted on our recipe blog today as well. 

You're gonna wish someone had invented scratch and sniff computer monitors by now.

I wish you had a piece of this pie. It is scrumptious.  If you hurry on over, there may be one small sliver left....or not, I may declare it "Pie for Breakfast" day around here soon and you'll be all out of luck, cause we'll be all out of pie.

Pie that is scrumptious.  And almost healthy, seeing as it as some fruit in it....along with cream cheese and sugar and cool whip and stuff.  :)

Sometimes a mama will forget things and the world keeps spinning regardless.

Yes, even when a mother has forgotten to iron those khaki pants and button down, who are we kidding here, even if a mother has forgotten to throw those items in the dryer and hit the dewrinkle button (a time or two).....or even if the mother forgot altogether about it being Honor Society day to begin with, and thus never even reached the point of getting the clothes from the closet to the dryer for dewrinkling....you know what that mother found out...the world did not stop rotating on it's axis. Not even for a millisecond.

That was the lesson I learned just a few days ago.  When in fact, Middle Boy was scheduled to be honored for the 2nd year as a member of the Honor Society at his school, and I had recieved the note earlier to confirm the date, time, and Sunday attire that was suggested for the ceremony. Luckily, I remembered the date.  Luckily, I have a good friend who is the school secretary and doesn't mind when I called the school that morning to be certain of the correct time. But I had yet to remember the proper clothing. 

And then upon my arrival to the ceremony, with camera in tow, I looked over to find Middle Boy sitting in the crowd, awaiting his time on stage, and realized to my horror that we had forgotten to dress appropriately for the occassion. 

A pair of jeans, his tennis shoes, and a long sleeve T-shirt.  Oh well. There was no turning back now.   Normally, in years past, I have lovingly picked a "just right" outfit, one where they could walk across the stage to have their ribbon pinned proudly to their chest, and walk off straight to a board room as a little business man ready to take on the world.  Not this time. 

And mind you, it was not just any long sleeve shirt either.  In fact, it was a shirt that I have actually made Middle Boy take off before.  Inevitably, at least once a week, he'll arrive downstairs ready to eat breakfast, brush hair and gather backpacks, and he'll be wearing this shirt.  And at least once a week, I'll look at him and say, "You need to go change your shirt. You know that shirt has stains on the side, and the sleeves are really too short for you, and it's fine to wear here at home to play around in, but find something else to wear for school.  Now scoot, time's a wastin'. "  

However, he LOVES this shirt. Must be the feel of it, I don't really know for sure what the big draw is, but it's something.  So, knowing how much he loves it,  this was in fact the very shirt I carefully chose to take with us last month when he was scheduled for surgery.  I let him wear it with a pair of his favorite warm, snuggie, pajama pants for his hospital visit.  Because you see, I didn't care what the nurses and doctors thought of his clothes, I just wanted him to feel safe, secure, comfortable and at his best for the events of that day. 

But this day, this day where he goes before the school, his peers, the teachers, the parents and grandparents and family members of all the other Honor Society members who've come to see their children march across the stage in their Sunday dress to receive this honor of achieving excellence in their academic acheivements.....this day, he was not supposed to wear that comfy, stained, too short of a long sleeve t-shirt. 

But he did.  And do you know what happened?  He marched proudly across that stage and his honor ribbon of excellence was pinned to his comfy, stained, too short of a long sleeve t-shirt.  He was a part of that ceremony just like everyone else. I took his picture.  And looking through my lens I had a dozen memories of him in that shirt flash before me.  Each one so precious. So very precious.  Time is passing us by whether we partake in the memories or not. 

There was a time in my life (in fact it wasn't very long ago) that I would have almost broken my neck to drive the few miles back home, very quickly, breaking speed limits and various other road laws I'm sure, just to get him a proper change of clothes. But instead, this time around, I sat there and pointed it out to my good friend sitting beside me.  I laughed at myself.  Reminded her more times than she probably cared to hear that... I just couldn't believe I had forgotten about his clothes, I just can't believe of all shirts, he's wearing the one shirt I tell him not to even wear to school.

And I realized, right there in that moment.....

it's not a shirt that makes a man....it's the man that makes the shirt.

And I couldn't be prouder of that little man in that little shirt.