by Sarah | Nov 15, 2013 | All About Me, All of Us, Crap, NaBloPoMo, Random, Story of Me
Back at the start of NaBlo I spoke of a coon tale with a happy ending. I also foretold of a second story minus such an ending. Today I give you that story.
I was young, probably 6 or 7 when this happened.
Back in New York we had a place we called “The Farm”. It was my dad’s hunting lodge, acres of trees and a small plot of land with a two story run-down old farm house.
Often my dad and uncle would take us kids out and we’d climb trees, play in the woods, ignore the scurrying of mice when we slept in the attic.
My dad and uncle would make repairs as they went. The stairs one year, the roof another. We had a fancy outhouse (not designed for girls, modifications were necessary for me). No electricity, a wood stove. We played outdoors 95% of the time we were there. There was a beehive in the walls that buzzed, and everything was old and drafty and I loved every visit.
The year the roof was redone my dad was up working hard peeling off tiles and taking off rotting decking.
He peeled back a panel of decking and happened upon a coon’s nest. A momma and her five babies.
Keeping in mind at this time Rabid Racoons were a major issue at the time – and the momma was PISSED, my dad did what was necessary to defend himself.
He grabbed the nearest weapon, his hammer, and took care of momma. He would have moved the babies, but they were way too young to fend for themselves, and so he also took care of them.
For years we tormented my poor dad with this tale of bopping the baby coons on the head…
But it was necessary (unlike in the earlier story I told).
A sad tale, true…but also a fitting descriptor of survival of the fittest.
Because if dad hadn’t taken action…that momma coon sure would have.
by Sarah | Nov 9, 2013 | All About Me, Story of Me
My mom taught me to cook and bake as I grew up. I would help her tear bread for the stuffing at holidays. Cut apples for applesauce or pie. I’d stir the batter for the most delicious brownies.
All along the way I’d glean tips and tricks to what makes my Mom’s meals delicious. Little nuggets of information that have stuck with me into my marriage.
One of my favorite secrets happens to tie in with my favorite fall treat.
Apple Crisp.
My Mom’s secret lay in the citrus that you add. Instead of a tart lemon, she used orange. Now, before you go crying that the citrus isn’t necessary because you expect the apples to brown in this delicious dessert…of course you do. But, if you add a touch of orange as your citrus – it’s a sweet little kick that punches up the flavor. The way you put in that citrus is up to you. I favor orange juice concentrate (a couple of tablespoons), you could use orange juice – heck, my mom has been known to use Tang. Yes, TANG.
Try it – along with my other secret (vary the apples, I use up to 4-5 different kinds). I bet you won’t regret it.
Recipe: Apple Crisp
Summary: Recipe is for one pie sized dessert. Increase as needed for larger desserts (as I did in my example pictures)
Ingredients
- Filling:
- 6 apples – at least 1 granny smith
- 2Tbs White Sugar
- 2Tbs Brown Sugar
- 2Tbs Flour
- 1Tbs Orange Juice concentrate
- Topping:
- 1/2 Stick Butter
- 1/8 C Brown Sugar
- 1/4 C Flour
Instructions
- Peel & Core apples
- Slice – granny’s hold up better so slice them thinner, the other varieties slice thicker
- Mix with rest of filling ingredients and put into pie plate
- Using pastry cutter or fork, cut together topping ingredients
- Sprinkle topping over pie
- Bake 50-60 minutes at 350*
- Turn on broiler for 3-5 minutes until topping is crisp to your liking.
Preparation time: 20 minute(s)
Cooking time: 1 hour(s)
Number of servings (yield): 6
by Sarah | Nov 2, 2013 | All About Me, Story of Me
I honestly don’t know what got me started on it.
I wasn’t one of those little girls that grew up dreaming of being Miss America.
I wanted to be Wonder Woman.
Or Princess Leia (minus the kissing my brother part).
Or on Broadway would suit me fine.
All I know is that I ended up signing up for the Junior Miss Pageant (the ONE year they tried to ‘dignify’ it by calling it ‘Young Woman of the Year’). And in the same year I signed up for the Miss Indianapolis Teen pageant.
Two pageants, one year.
I didn’t win either of them.
I won secondary awards. Fitness, presence and composure, finalist talent, non-finalist talent. I made it to the finals of one, 4th place over all.
I have to say…
I had a crap-ton of fun doing them. I knew I’d never do another one, I didn’t care to. I’m so glad I had that experience.
From the pressure of performing at the top of my game and being quick on my feet to the answers. To the endless rehearsals for the silly little dances they had us do.
The camaraderie of the pageant brought me friends during my senior year I didn’t have the rest of school.
The general stand-offishness of everyone in the other pageant that led to me just glad it was over.
I learned a lot, and I gained a lot, and I look back on it with immense fondness.
And yes, I kept my plaques.
by Sarah | Sep 11, 2013 | All About Me, Story of Me
I posted this last year and the year before at this time. I’m re-posting it. I will always repost it every year at this time…
I know what today is. I know what it means to our country. I remember every detail of 2001 in vivid detail…but since before 2001, this date has been difficult for me, for my family…in 1996 my family’s core was lost, the heart of us…my grandfather…so my post on 9/11 is for him. Oh, and at surface glance I hate this picture of me, but then I see the pure joy on my face dancing with my grandfather and aesthetics be damned, it’s my favorite picture.
It was his birthday. I was young and a very short kid…and he was TALL. I remember watching him put our coats in the closet and staring up, up, up at him and asking, “How tall are you?” With his sparkling eyes and laugh he informed me that he was over 6′. My eyes grew wide, and all I could say was, “But you’re so close to the ceiling! If you have ANY more birthdays you’ll go right through!”
His chair sat by the front door and the minute he sat the race was on – who would get the privilege of sitting on his lap, carrying on as deep a conversation as a child was capable of? Who would get to play with his round pot belly, and listen to his laughter?
He worked for GM and he was proud of it, and so were we.
When I close my eyes I can still smell his pipe and see the pipe carousel on his dresser. I can smell the cigarettes that he and grandma smoked.
I remember that after he retired he would watch soap operas during lunch.
And I remember the weddings – when my cousin and I would trade off and share him for the dance. “Grampa” by the Judds.
I remember his smile.
I remember his belly.
I remember the strength that he always carried in his soul and body.
I remember the pain that shot through my heart at the word…”cancer”. Once it was uttered it was less than a year. 10 months.
I remember the first time I saw him in the hospital-and how I had to run from the room because it made me physically ill to see my big strong grandfather lying in a bed weak and hooked up to tubes.
I remember his fight.
I remember when it was acknowledged in our hearts that the time to fight was over.
I remember how he held on – hours past when we thought we would lose him – because he would not let go until he’d gotten to hear the good-bye of all of his grandchildren, and my brother had been in surgery for his shattered wrist. Half an hour after the final phone call, he was gone.
I remember the sound of the tennis balls scattering across the hallway when my professor’s assistant walked up asking if she knew where I was…and all I could do was run to my car to get home as soon as I could.
From there it’s a blur…a long car ride from NC to NY. The arrangements. The funeral home. The droves of people I didn’t know, but who all knew him, overflowing the room.
The pain has lessened, resorted to a memory. For the most part I remember the love, the good things, the joy. But on this day every year the pain comes back to the forefront.
The pain seems so much stronger now that Grandma has gone to join him. Refreshed and renewed. Now they are together forever, but they will always be here in our hearts.
We love you still, and will always love you, Grampa.
by Sarah | Aug 30, 2013 | All About Kennedy, All About Learning, All About Me, All About Molly, All of Us, Blogging Life, Special Needs, Sponsored, Story of Me
When I was really young, I loved school for all of its aspects. I loved to learn, I enjoyed going every day, I even looked forward to the end of summer. My brother thought I was insane, but I didn’t care. I loved the new year, the new books, the new teachers and new students. The only subject I dreaded was PE, because I hated sports, etc.
As I got older and my social life took a huge nose dive, I still loved learning, but the individual teachers began to make a much larger impact on me. I began to appreciate them for what they did, and how they treated me, they were the beacon in the chaos of teenage drama. Teachers became the biggest imact on my school life.
One teacher that inspired my writing life (and subsequent career as an author), was an English teacher I had in high school.
Mrs. K.
I’m pretty sure the day I approached her with a question on our writing assignment she wasn’t sure what to make of it. The assignment was to write on our name, the origin of it, the meaning, etc. You know the assignment, I think we all get it. I asked if it had to be in third person and follow the usual strict guideline for a non-fiction assignment because I had “an idea.”
When she gave me that ok to take the chance, I’m sure she didn’t know how much it would impact my entire future writing life. I ended up turning the assignment, which had become a creative assignment written as a newspaper article by my great-granddaughter (who shared my name).
I got an A.
And never looked at “standards” the same way again. I approach everything from a sideways slant now. I ignore genres and write crazy stories and plots and don’t ever look back. All thanks to Mrs. K’s simple “yes” and encouragement.
*~*
These days I look at teachers differently. With my kids and their own unique personalities, I’m always looking for the one that’s going to have the most impact. How they’re going to turn around a difficulty or face a challenge. I’m mostly looking for one that, despite their insane schedule, take the time to know what my children are about. We’ve had some amazing years, and some rough ones, and I’m so happy for each step forward my kids take thank to a teachers impact.
*
Kennedy wants to be a teacher.
I couldn’t be prouder of this dream and I encourage it EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. Teachers impact the lives of so many children, they make the difference between a love of learning and the desire to avoid school.
I know that the pool of teachers for schools to use is dwindling as people choose different careers and even fewer go to college. I see first hand that within the next 10 years 65% of America’s current teachers will retire – because every year in my kids school several teachers leave or retire.
I think Kennedy’s dream of being a teacher is the best dream there is. I want her to achieve it and hope she does.
*~*
On September 6th 8PM EST, TEACH will air on CBS. Brought to us by Academy Award-winning director Davis Guggenheim, it explores education in America today and asks what it takes to be a good teacher today. I know I’ll be watching, and have my future teacher at my side.
What about you? Did you have a teacher that impacted your life? Share your story. Visit the TEACH website to learn about the four awesome teachers highlighted in the documentary and
*~*
*DISCLOSURE: This post was sponsored by Participant Media. However, the stories told are uniquely my own, and all opinions are most certainly 100% my own.
by Sarah | Apr 15, 2013 | A to Z Challenge, All About Me, Story of Me
*For the record that’s me WAY over on the left.
The mind is a crazy place some times.
It plays tricks on you.
The things you remember versus the things you don’t.
Like I remember those shirts.
I only vaguely remember that fence.
And the names of our friends at the magical land we called the cottage (Where this was taken, near our cottage in Canada)? I remember only one, because I’m friends with her on facebook, and she’s the one that took this picture.
Yet I cling to that place.
To the neighbor that kept pepperoni sticks in her fridge (snack sized that we swiped all the time), and games in the loft of her cottage. We’d sled down the hill of her cottage in winter, and roll down ours with our giant innertube in the summer.
The boat lifts that littered the water.
The day my aunt shoved my head underwater and made it so I was no longer afraid to swim under the water.
Hours out on our boat.
Playing Star Wars with our friends.
Croquet on the lawn.
Watching Sesame Street in French.
Hovering under blankets and umbrellas while dad and my uncle set off fireworks in a rainstorm.
I remember great joy.
Times of laughter.
Times of youth.
Youth that passed by too fast.
The memories have holes.
But the spirit of joy does not.
*~*~*
The A-Z Challenge has over 1900 participants, all blogging from A to Z this month. Check them out and see if you can’t find a few new favorites!!
Back at the start of NaBlo I spoke of a coon tale with a happy ending. I also foretold of a second story minus such an ending. Today I give you that story.
