The Cure for the Tryptophan Hangover

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 13

It is now December and while we are speeding our way toward Christmas, I have spent the past week missing Thanksgiving. It is my favorite holiday (with Easter as my other favorite). Why? There are two things you're expected to do at Thanksgiving--be with your family and eat great food. Honestly, what's not to like about that? This year, we went to Chicago for Thanksgiving to visit Aaron's family for the holiday.

We arrived on Monday and planned to share our time with Aaron's dad, sister and her family and his mother. The big family meal was planned for Tuesday evening at his sister Angela's home, and it was the first of our Thanksgiving meals.

This meal was followed by two other "Thanksgivings" both on Thursday. The highlight of Thanksgiving day for me was our turkey trot with our niece, Aubrey and nephew, Hunter. Hunter has been running cross-country in school and so the "boys" the trot as a run while we girls did the trot as a walk. It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm, sunny day. We made our race hats so that everyone would know that we were a family. The hats made many of the other "trotters" smile and I have to admit that this exactly my plan. (Thank you, Marc Cathey!)

Of course, the other commercial part of Thanksgiving is Black Friday. When we arrived at Aaron's father's after the race, I was greeted with three pounds of newspaper advertisements. You would have thought my Christmas came early! Since we moved to West Virginia, Aaron has driven each Sunday morning to the mini-mart to buy a sleeve of donettes and a Washington Post. While I get to read through the ads each week, I'm not near enough to most of the stores to ever take advantage of any of the deals. But this was different. I was surrounded by stores in the Chicago suburbs! I could feel my shopping juices rising and the next thing I know I was making a list and checking it twice.

And we spent all day Friday shopping and shopping and shopping. And while you might read that phrase as buying, buying, buying, that was not the case. I did buy a few things--when you fly United, carrying on saves you $25--honestly, I just enjoyed being able to see everything in person that I'd seen in a printed ad. Sad but true. I admit I am a capitalist. We arrived home on Saturday night and for most of the next week I moped about living in the middle of nowhere and with limited access to retail therapy. Boo-hoo.

The self-indulgent pity party ended during my tutoring session with one of my middle school boys. After we worked on some science homework, we each talked about our Thanksgiving vacation. He was excited because his older brother came home from college. It was obvious that he missed him and the highlight of the weekend was the family Thanksgiving day football game. Snap! Slap! My focus was readjusted and I was poignantly reminded of why I so love Thanksgiving in the first place. I love my husband's family but I realize more than ever how much I miss and love my family.

I hope you had a great Thanksgiving--whether you ate and slept or ate and shopped or ate and played football. More than what you did on the day, I hope you spent it with those you love.

Save me, PLEASE!!!

City Mouse Now Country Mouse

No. 12

When Aaron and I moved to the cabin in August, we made a pledge to be penny-wise. In downsizing our living space and our overall lifestyle, we committed to saving money and living economically. In one of my moments of frugality, I decided that we did not need to spend the additional $17/month on the HD-DVR to accompany our monthly cable service. Oh, you misguided fool!
      About three weeks ago, after I had missed new episodes of Rizzoli & Isles and Bones while watching other first run shows, I had a melt down. I have so little "real" interaction with people everyday that having the opportunity to follow my shows has become really important to me. "We HAVE to get the DVR," I remembered saying to Aaron, in a more than whiny tone. He listened patiently and smiled politely. "Whatever you want, honey," was his response. He wasn't the one who was the hold-up on the DVR. After a few more whines, I resigned myself to the DVR expense. 
     I arrived at my local Comcast office with the old cable box in hand and full of excitement about the new DVR. Jacqui, my customer service rep, made several dozen clicks on her computer keyboard and then handed me my new DVR box. "Now remind me," I said. "What is the monthly charge for the DVR?"
     "There's a special $9.95 monthly deal," she said with a smile. 
      "Oh, how do I get that deal?" I said, trying not to sound too excited or too eager.
      "You already did," Jacqui said with a smile. I thanked her profusely and signed all the paperwork. I was out of the Comcast office in less than 10 minutes. So, even though I succumbed  to this additional luxury, I ended up saving a few pennies. Yahoo!
     I tell this story as I think about the next one since it gives a significant contrast to my West Virginia experience between being wise and being educated. At the end of September, I completed all the requirements to become a PASS Volunteer. This means I had to get a TB test and to attend a 2-hour training session on how to mentor PK-12 students. PASS stands for "Providing Academic and Self-Esteem  Support." When filling out my form, I volunteered to work with Middle and High School students. "God bless you," the coordinator said. "No one likes Middle schoolers," she added. "Well, I do," I added without hesitation. 
     As a PASS volunteer, we meet weekly with students to help them with their academics and also give them moral support to keep working at school even though it might not be easy. I have three Middle Schoolers and two High School boys. After so many years of working to integrate technology into schools and to help make the learning environment engaging and dynamic, I realized in the last four weeks that this doesn't mean a thing if the students you're trying to educate haven't had breakfast (or dinner the night before) or know who's taking care of them. It is poverty and parenting that are hindering so many students in low economic areas. 
     All of my students are at least three grades behind in math, reading, or both. None of the boys know all of their times tables and they struggle once they get to multiplying any numbers beyond the 6's or 7's. My 8th grade girl, who excels in math, can only read at a 3rd grade level. "What kind of books do you like to read?" I asked. "I don't know," she replied. "I don't read." [sigh.] After a few more minutes of conversation, I found that she liked movies about cheerleaders (Bring it On!) and Mean Girls. Argh! I wasn't sure I was going to be able to find a book that would keep her interest and one that she would be able to actually read herself might be difficult. Thanks to the dyslexic salesman at Books-a-Million, he pointed me in the right direction and was very sympathetic to my cause. (People love to tell me their personal stories.)  Believe it or not, there is chapter book series about cheerleaders that is written for 4-6th graders. I figured we could read it together and once she got hooked, she'd read it on her own. Reading, even if it includes tips on make-up and cheer acrobatics, is better than no reading at all.

    This is the first time I've ever worked with students who have poor math and reading skills. It is frustrating to think that they spend time in class trying to figure out what's going on and that they lack the basic skills necessary to keep up. I now understand why there are students that drop out. My one 9th grader is 16 and the other just turned 15. Most of their worksheets require regurgitation of facts and/or figures rather than doing anything that makes them think. I don't know if this is the typical work that mainstream students get but this is my impression so far. I quickly learned that this 30 minute time slot could be spend shooting the breeze, especially with my high school boys who like to act like they don’t have any class work or homework to do. That’s when I started bringing my “This is your Life” word problems to our sessions.

    One significant takeaway I learned at the STEM conference in Dallas this summer was that students do not know how to apply the math/science/tech skills they learn in school to real life problems. Well, Marcy's "This is your Life" word problems are designed to change all that. So far, we have investigated three different part-time jobs, one as a cashier at Burger King, one as a clerical worker in a dentist office and one as an after-school babysitter. Not only did we determine how much s/he would make at each job but we also talked about working conditions and personal preferences. The best job is the one that has the right salary AND working conditions for you. We also talked about buying and owning a car. While the vintage Mustang might be appealing, it’s MPG and annual insurance made it 50% more expensive than the slightly dinged up Cavalier. This week we are decorating the house and learning to determine the costs  of home improvements. One problem helps the students calculate how much paint one must buy if you want to cover all the walls with two coats of paint. It’s all practical stuff and it’s all applied mathematics. After the holidays I am hoping we are going to start doing some applied engineering by building a bird house or doll house as well as I will have them write their own resumes.

     I realize I've been procrastinating about my blog over the past month, and I think it has a lot to do with my concern about my kids. I want to fix things--to fix them--so that they can be successful but it isn't that simple or that easy to do. While I know that working with them 30 minutes once a week isn't going to change their reading and math skills overnight, I do know that during those 30 minutes they have my undivided attention and they are beginning to trust me as someone who is invested in their success. After all, that's why I started working in schools all those years ago--to make a difference in children's lives. What I'm learning is that they are making the difference in my life and helping me reconsider what is and isn't important about education.

Handicraft, Hand-Dipped and Hand in Hand

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 11

My endless quest to be a "Master Craftswoman" has taken me to many an interesting place. Here's a brief history of my crafting:
* I've traveled to rural Pennsylvania with my friend Josephine to learn wood carving from a Pittsburgh sculpture artist. I also returned there two additional years to learn silver jewelry making and how to add color to silver pieces using tinted resin.
* I've traveled to Abiquiu, NM to three times--one for more jewelry making, once for pewtersmithing, and once for blacksmithing.
* I've traveled to Gatlinburg, TN to learn how to crochet silver, copper and fashion wire to make jewelry.
* I've traveled to Arlington, TX, several times to learn woodturning and how to make everything from a pen to a bowl to a goblet. So, what this means is I will got to great lengths to learn a new craft.
Here is a picture of me learning to bend wood for a Shaker box. Aaron and I went to a crafts festival in Boonsboro, MD, in early September and that's where we met Sam & Bob. Interestingly enough, they are brothers who together has a thriving business making Shaker boxes. After 10 or more minutes of conversation, I was ready to risk our jovial exchange with a risky question: would you be willing to teach me how to bend wood? My question was followed by a nervous laugh from the two but after a few more minutes of conversation, we figured out how I might learn their craft in a "non-threatening" and "no commitment" kind of way.

So, we agreed that I would attend their next craft show at the Mountain Heritage Arts & Crafts Festival near Harper's Ferry last weekend. The picture above is step one in the process. This is when you take the wet wood and bend it around the oval box form. Next, as you can see in the photo to the right, you add the copper tacks to keep the "fingers" and band in place. The last step (in bending) is to make the band for the lid. That picture is below. I bent wood for nearly three hours and by the end of it, I was starving; I guess all the bending and marking and nailing (repeat, repeat, repeat) helped me work up quite an appetite.

I thanked Bob and his wife for a great afternoon of crafting and we talked about when I could come to their workshop to learn to finish the boxes. We waved our good-byes and I wandered through the festival looking for the food tents.

After glancing at the festival program, I realized that I had very few healthy eating choices. Almost everything offered was fried with the exception of the pit roasted beef and the hand-dipped ice cream. I opted for the beef over the ice cream--probably a first for me--and sat down at a nearby picnic table. The beef as quite tasty, although messy, and I was content to eat and watch people go by. I was nearly half way through my sandwich when an older couple asked if they could join me. "Please--I'm happy to have company. Especially if you'll let me taste your ice cream."

They were carrying Styrofoam bowls heaping with ice cream. After they sat down, the gentleman leaned forward, extending his spoon to me. "Here you go," he said. "It's raspberry. I hope you like it."

"Oh," I said startled and embarrassed. "I was just kidding. It looks delicious."
"It's hand-dipped," the woman said. "I love hand-dipped ice cream." I agreed and we chatted about the weather for a few minutes.
"This is quite a crafts festival. The range and quality of work is exceptional," I said. "It's the first time I'm attended this show."
"Oh," the woman said, "I love this show. Gerry and I came last year but this is the first time that we are attending as husband and wife."
"So, you're newly weds," I said with a question in my voice. "Congratulations! That's great. How did you meet?"
"I met Annabelle in the seventh grade," Gerry said in between a large spoonful of ice cream.
"Seventh grade!" I said. "Wow!"
In my head, I was hearing: "Yikes! 7th grade!!" I did a quick flip through my memory rolodex of boys I knew in 7th grade. Double Yikes!

"That's right. It was our first year of high school," Annabelle said. "We both got married to other people and started dating after we lost our spouses . We were both married for almost 60 years. My husband died in 2004 and his wife in 2007."
"I am a lucky man," Gerry said proudly between mouthfuls of raspberry ice cream. I took a quick look at Annabelle; she was blushing. By this point, I was starting to question my food choice as he seemed to really be enjoying his afternoon treat.
"You must have married really young," I said to Annabelle.
"Yes, I did," said with a far away look in her eye. "And I never regretted it."
The three of us continued to chat about how they had courted for most of year before getting married in their Methodist church. The Gerry sold his two story house in Harper's Ferry and moved into Annabelle's rancher near Charles Town. "It's easier on the knees," he remarked.
"You finished your ice cream," Annabelle said smiling and poking Gerry in the arm. "You must have been hungry."
"We don't get hand-dipped ice cream everyday," he said, returning the smile to her. He then slid his hand into hers. She squeezed his hand and smiled again. Clearly, it was time for me to go; I had obviously already disappeared from their view.

Breaking and Entering . . .

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 10

I have been looking forward to today for more than a week. As I have remarked, we are living in the boonies. While I am getting to know people every day (I had a great story I was going to tell for this installment), getting together with old friends and family trumps everything and anything new.

I had made arrangements to have brunch with Martha, long time and dear family friend of my parents who has been more like an Aunt to me. She offered to meet me in Shepherdstown, a mere 45 minutes from the cabin, and I had developed a schedule for the morning so that I could meet her on time. Well, as with so much of life, Plan A rapidly turned into Plan B.

My alarm went off at 8 am as set and I promptly got up, even though the house was chilly after the overnight cooling. I put on my "dog walking" clothes, got my Antarctica vest loaded with poop bags and my phone and I headed out the door. The dogs were excited and they took advantage of my eagerness to "get the business done." The morning air was fresh and the sun was twinkling through the leaves. I was excited and pleased with myself that everything was progressing as planned. That was until I got to the front door again, at the end of the walk, and realized that I did not have my keys in my pocket.

Bolix! I yelled out loud. Honestly, I could have cursed a blue streak but no one would hear me so I kept it simple. How was I going to get into the house--without my keys, without the spare keys that are supposed to stay at the association office but were on the microwave, and without Aaron's keys since he was in Michigan this weekend. Argh! I realized that I was going to have to break into my own house.

I made a quick walk around the house to size up which of the windows would be my best option. Given that I had both dogs on their leashes, I found a toppled tree that I could tie them to with the hope that they would be "good" while I figured out what to do. I had hoped that I could pry open the front window that would lead to the bathroom. No dice; this window as square and while I could get the screen off, I could not get the sliding glass window to budge.

This meant that my next option was the window by the fireplace. The catch with this option was that the window is 10 feet off the ground. Our ladder was on the deck, but I didn't realize that until 10 minutes after it was too late. But I"m getting ahead of myself. So, I wheeled the wheelbarrow underneath the window, steadying it so that it would not tip, and climbed in. It was way too short for me to reach the window. I was going to need something else taller to stand on.

There were chairs on the deck and the screen porch, neither of which would be easy to climb up to get and then I spied the deer feeder at the edge of the yard. The previous owners bought it and we had never used it. Until now--and I wasn't even using it properly! In sizing up my options, the feeder was 3 ft or so tall and my best, easiest option.. So, I dragged the canister across the yard and positioned it under the window.

At this point, I noticed that Zinc, our grey American Terrier/Pit Bull mix, was somehow running around the yard. Crap! I realized that he had chewed through his leash. Gwyn, our Lab/Boxer mix, was patiently waiting on her leash by the tree stump and wondering how Zinc was roaming free when she was not. Crap! I yelled again. I went over to check on Gwyn as she is the more likely of the two to actually run away. I found Zinc trying to chew her leash. Crap! I yelled even louder and I swatted him away. That was all I needed--two dogs running crazy while I was attempting to climb a precariously adapted ladder.

I needed to focus. I  placed the wheelbarrow in front of it so I could step up a foot or so before trying to climb on top of feeder. I did it but I was still considerably below my target. I managed to pry the screen off the window using tree branch and then was able to jerk the window open ( it has never latched well).

The moment of truth had come. I was going to have to hoist myself up and through the window. I imagined Gabby Douglas on the uneven bars, I took a deep breath and I leapt. OK, so I am no Olympic gymnast and I would score my attempt at 6.5--but I was hanging off the window at my waist. Partial success. I tried not to panic or chastise myself for not doing more weightlifting with my running/washing/drying routine. I just had to keep focused on getting into the house. So, I pulled myself forward and managed slither and flop onto the carpet. I made it! Success; I broke into my own house.

The rest of my morning went as planned: shower, makeup, dressing, walking the dogs (leaving the front door UNlocked) and heading off for brunch. Here's a picture of Martha and me at the Press Room in Shepherdstown. When I asked the waitress to take the photo, the woman at the table next to us asked if we were mother and daughter. "I wish," Martha quickly replied. I blushed, pleased. "She's my Aunt," I said. The woman persisted--a blood Aunt or just a friend? "Oh, she's my Aunt in Love," I replied. "And I am so lucky to have her." After all, I broke into my own house so I could get properly dressed.and get to brunch on time. It was TOTALLY worth it!

Fro-Yo: A Gateway Treat to Volunteering

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 9

My brother Henry and his family moved to Chincoteague, VA, in February 1995. Over the past 17 years, the family has had to make a number of significant decisions. While we were raised Presbyterian, the island offered only three churches: Methodist, Baptist and Catholic. They joined the Methodist congregation. My sister-in-law Jodi taught elementary ed in the Fairfax County School system before she left the DC area; now she's teaching in Accomack County, and she has taught ESL (k-12) and PreKindergarten. When we visit them, everywhere we go, people greet Henry and Jodi by name. In fact, Henry is the unofficial Mayor of Chincoteague,,and Jodi regularly organizes funerals and other get-togethers. My brother instructs his annual interns about how to survive a small town: "If you get involved, you'll love living here; if you don't, you'll hate it here."

As I now find myself an even smaller community than Chincoteague, I have taken Henry's advice to hear. I recognized that now that the furniture is set and the everything things are set, it was time to reach out to my community. I did a quick Google search and discovered that the Middle School has a mentor/tutoring program that was desperate for adult help. "I can do that," I thought, and followed through with all the testing/training requirements. During our meeting, the Middle School coordinator Jen also told me briefly  about the Berkeley County Backpack Program.

Since we were both out most of the day, we decided to go out for dinner to catch up. As is our pattern, I like ice cream or fro-yo as a treat. So, after our dinner we strolled down to the local Sweet Frog to build our own frozen yogurt sundae. YUM! Who was there? The Backpack program ladies and they invited me to the weekly "bagging" that was slated for 9:30 am the following morning. How could I say No?! I now had an appointment on my rather empty calendar.

As I learned this morning, the Backpack Program feeds children who have "unreliable" food resources over the weekend days each week. In plain English, these are children who rely on the free and reduced breakfast/lunch program in the public schools as their primary means for food. So, I showed up at the Hedgesville Community Church at 9:30 am to meet a dozen other women who were staunch supporters of the program. By 11:45 am, we packed 257 bags of weekend meals for students (PreK through 12) that attend 16 different schools county-wide. What I also learned is that is that only a fraction of those that really need help are getting it. For example, of the 1,800 students that attend Hedgesville High School, nearly 600 of them are part of the free and reduced meal program. Of that number, only 55 are participating in the Backpack program. This means that there are a lot of hungry kids out there on non-school days.

Even as I packed bag after bag of Chef Boryardee and mac & cheese--knowing that these processed foods contain too much sodium and little to no fiber--I felt like we were doing a good thing for our local children. One of the main stipulations for the food contributions is that the child can prepare the meal on his/her own. That's a low bar when you're feeding 4 and 5 year olds. One positive: one of the local orchards donated fresh apples to go in the bags this week. Given that we are entering apple season in Berkeley County, I am glad to know that the student will have something fresh in their weekly bag.

So, I am now "in it," as Henry would say. Even if it pushes some of my ideas about healthy eating, I have to tell you it feels good. It feels like I am part of a community and for that, I am grateful.

Memory Lane . . .

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 8

I have visited Memory Lane--both figuratively and literally--over the past couple of days. This is the easier of the two stories so I'll start there.

Aaron and I drove to Chambersburg, PA, today to buy a baker's rack for our kitchen. As I have mentioned to some, we are now living in a 950 sq. ft. house; by contrast, our home in Dallas was nearly 3,400 sq. ft. So, the move has meant that a real downsize in living space. At any rate, the key to living in a small space is organization. "A place for everything and everything in its place" as the old adage goes. So we agreed that we needed what I call "a holding thing" to manage some of our stuff (dog leashes, mail, cell phones, keys, etc.). I looked on Craig's list to see if I could find something that would work and I found the holding thing I was looking for at the top of the list. And it was only $35! (Cheap, Cheap, Emily!) Aaron made the arrangements and he gave me the address to plug into the map app on the iPhone. I laughed out loud when he told me we were headed to Memory Lane, and it prompted me to remember our weekend, which leads me to our second story.

On Saturday, we attended the memorial service for Joanne Ezzard Barksdale. The Barksdales were long time family friends of our and I must have been 8 years old when we first met. My father had gone to Cornell with Tom Barksdale--Daddy studied floriculture and Tom studied tomatoes--and then both earned their doctorates there in 1955. Interestingly enough, Daddy and Tom both found their way to the Agriculture Research Service in Beltsville, Maryland doing research in their specialties. Their friendship led to our families getting to know each other.

His wife, Joanne, was the Chair of Home Economics at Hood College in Frederick Maryland. As a result of her field of study, Joanne knew everything there was to know about managing a home and cooking. She taught me how to make jam and how to seal the jars using a boiling water bath, the proper temperature for cooking and storing meats, and how to get the stain out of anything. Tom and Joanne had two girls, Kathy and Ruth, and I remember having great fun with them whenever I was asked to babysit for them. Joanne was diagnosed with MS in 1975 and had to retire from Hood. She attacked MS with the same methodical approach she had in her professional life and learned that food was an important trigger in the progression of MS. She battled the disease for 37 years and died on July 12, 2012.

The funeral was peppered with stories of Joanne and her pecadilloes. Joanne was a tall southern woman, a straight-shooter and a planner. She was opinionated--since she knew she was right--and she had a heart of gold. My brother Henry was one of the speakers and he rolled out the stories from years gone by in a way that had many laughing and crying at the same time. Paul, Henry's best friend from childhood, had married Ruth, the younger of the two Barksdale girls, and he also told some head-shakin' stories. Joanne was a rabid sports fan and she particularly loved the Orioles. As I sat there in the church, I looked at Henry and Paul,  and thought about the days long gone, and suddenly I was 17 again and driving them around to one thing or another. Those days were simple. Our biggest concern was homework and the big games at Paint Branch. Now, as grown-ups, our days are much more complicated. We all have children of our own, jobs, and mortgages; we left the carefree days of high school behind. It was great to see everyone--even under the circumstances--and to take that trip down Memory Lane. As with everything, memories are a mixture of many emotions. For me, it was both the sadness of loss and the sweetness of reconnecting with loved ones from another part of my life.

P. S. RWRD Update: Thanks to our regular need for clean clothes, I am now running a 11:30 mile which is down from a 13:30 mile. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Paper Nuptials

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 7

Here they are: Cinderella and Prince Charming. They are the picture of Disney romance and wedded bliss. Many new brides have tried and tried over the years to recreate this "perfection" but honestly, anyone who has been married knows that there are always complications.

Moving cross-country creates complications. One of the complications for us has been with official documents. Over the 1300 miles and 200 boxes, we seemed to have misplaced a few things. In an effort to restore our file of important papers, I contacted the City of Alexandria for a copy of our marriage license. With different last names in a rural place, I felt it was important to have all of our "legal papers" in order. Today, Aaron and I received this latest complication via U.S. mail:

Dear Mrs. Cathey,
      I received your letter of request for a certified copy of your marriage license. Unfortunately, the marriage license between you and your husband Aaron David Frank has never been returned from your minister. Please contact the minister, who married you both, to find out why he has not returned it. The marriage license is valid 60 days from the date of issue and it must be returned within 5 days from the date of marriage. I am enclosing information from our office regarding your marriage license number . . .

REALLY?! Our first reactions were quite different.
    Aaron: "So, I guess this is your chance to get out if you want, Marcy."
    Me: "This is stupid." This was shortly followed by, "OK, we've been married for more than 7 years, so we're common law married." Even as I was saying it I felt stupid.

Initially, Aaron didn't seem as perturbed about the whole thing as I did. I think the upset for me was two-fold: first, the angst of not having the paperwork in a place that doesn't know us and we don't know well either; and second, Daddy & Mom had hosted our wedding and it just reminded me again that Daddy's gone. I think about him and miss him every day. So, while I know that paperwork can be lost and found or misplaced and replaced, people can't be. There was just one H. Marc Cathey, my Daddy.

As our 10th anniversary is coming up in June, Aaron and I did agree that we depending on what we find in our investigations, we will remain "common law" married--yes, in West Virginia--until then and renew our vows then. I'll keep you posted on our progress--otherwise expect to attend a party the second weekend in June, 2013.   

P.S. Aaron's become increasingly perturbed over the evening--ah, just one more thing to do!

Coming Clean . . .

City Mouse Now Country MouseNo. 6

Laundry has never been "my thing." I honestly believe that the first time I did my own laundry was at the end of my first week at college. Yes, college. Mom wanted me to do "my stuff" throughout high school so while I helped with cooking and other household chores, I never did laundry. So, that meant that I learned to "do" laundry from the lid of the washer in the Trent basement coin-operated laundry room. Just one more skill that Duke gave me!

At any rate, now that we are at the Woods, we do not have our own washer and dryer. Our little cabin was designed for three season getaways--which means retreating, not daily living. Therefore, we have to do our laundry at the spa/sports complex. Here is the laundry room--$1.75 to wash and $1.25 to dry. I have no idea how these prices compare those those elsewhere but as I recollect from my college days, it always takes too many quarters.

So, yes, you can do your laundry and workout at the same time. This is precisely my routine. My workout is now one wash and dry cycle which translates into about 60-65 minute sessions, three times a week. At first, I chaffed against this routine--I was used to doing my 5K run/walk and watching "NCIS" or "Bones" or "CSI: Miami" to motivate me along. The wash cycle takes 30-38 minutes (depending on the type of cycle), which means that I am at the point in the 5K when I am doing more running that walking. ARGH! I have to pause the Cybex, run to the laundry room, and switch the load to the dryer. The dryer cycle is 25 minutes--regardless of the setting. Most of the time, the laundry isn't really dry-dry when the cycle finishes and depending on the load, I decide if we have to go for another 25 minutes. I figure that I am going to be really fit by the end of the winter at this rate!

Honestly, I would like to tell you that this is a grand adventure--something fantastic like the Swiss Family Robinson or funny like the sit-com Gillian's Island but the truth is it's neither of these things. It's tedious and time-consuming. But it has made me appreciate the washer & dryer I had for so many years--even if I rarely used them. It is the conveniences that one misses when things change. In the immortal words of "Hard Habit to Break" by Chicago:

I guess I thought you'd be here forever 

Another illusion I chose to create

You don't know what you've got

Until it's gone

And I found out a little too late

Source: http://lyrics-a-plenty.com/h/hard_habit_to_break.lyrics.php

I think the lesson for me is in learning to appreciate the little things--the every day things. As a result, it is in this appreciative state that I am experiencing growth. I'm not just learning to run but I'm also coming clean in the process.

Who, Who loves rainy days?!

City Mouse Now Country Mouse

No. 5

One of the biggest changes between living in Dallas, Texas, and Hedgesville, West Virginia is the weather. It rarely rains in Dallas, which means that one almost never has to change one's outdoor plans due to rain. In West Virginia, however, it rains a lot. On average, in the past two weeks, it has rained almost every other day. BUT the best part of rainy days for me is it means rainy day projects. That's right--Crafty Marcy strikes again! 

It all started at the Goodwill store in Martinsburg. I had just visited my new favorite shopping spot, Big Lots, and decided to pop in the GW to see what treasures were inside. Goodwill's in general have one of two specialties--either furniture or clothing. It was obvious that this was primarily a clothing store but I decided to wander around the store to see what I could see. 

It was then when I spied my next craft project. I found something charming about this silly bird's face and decided it would be a prefect container to store the puppy treats. I decided to send a iPhone picture of my treasure to Aaron and Ellen--who, who, happened to be having lunch together in Blacksburg as Aaron was in on his trip north from Dallas. There was a split decision between the two texts, and in the end, I decided it was worth risking the $4.57 investment.

Next was the fun part. I spent some time looking at pictures of owls to determine what direction my muse would go. Here are two images I found that inspired me:

After a trip to Lowe's for spray paint and to Michael's for specialty paints, my crafting began. It became my "go-to" rainy day project and given the frequency of rain that I described earlier, my owl was transformed from a dated vintage piece to a fabulously reinvented, au courant owl. We've named him Berkeley, for the county we live in and if you scroll down, you'll see our new treasure.  So, now for the big reveal . . .

keep scrolling . . . 

a little more . . . 

just a little more . . .

ta-dah!

There is something rejuvenating about reinventing something old into something new. I guess that's why I've always enjoyed making things so much--there is the beginning, the middle and the end for each project and when it's complete, you have something great and uniquely made by you. I wish you all the best in your trash to treasure adventures . . . and send my your photos when you have them!

Peerless!

City Mouse Now Country Mouse

No. 4

Can you guess what this end cap is attached to? OK--so unless you are a farmer or a devotee of antique farm equipment, it's a tough question. On the last day of August, Aaron and I went to the 54th annual Williams Grove Historical Steam Engine Association Fall Show. I am guessing you might wonder how we ended up at this show; here's the story. 

Aaron grew up going to the steam show Sycamore, IL. This was an annual family event and it was such a favorite that Aaron and his father bought a 1936 A John Deere row crop tractor to work on in between shows. I am sitting on a similar, somewhat newer, one here. There were over 750 steam engines, tractors (steam and gas powered), and lawn mowers. The shows obviously featured the equipment but it also featured food, fun and fellowship.

We arrived about 3 pm so we would have time to see the entire show before the main evening event: the tractor parade. As we drove through the fairground gates, I noticed that there were rows and rows of tractors lined up and that there were several large fields full of equipment. I looked down at my zebra stripped flats--cute but not exactly field shelping wear--and was thankful that the ground was dry. 

We started our afternoon by watching the steam engine powered sawmill demonstration. It was fascinating to watch them position, cut and reposition the wood until the entire log was cut into board planks ready for construction. This was particularly timely for me as I had just heard new stories from my Mom about my grandfather's work in the lumber industry in the late '20's and '30's. I'll tell those stories later.

Whoopie Pie!

Aaron always talked about the food at the steam show and we planned to eat dinner at the fairgrounds. His childhood favorites were the custom pork chops and the butter-dipped corn. The PA fair featured BBQ, burgers, dogs and picnic fixings. We opted for the pork BBQ and snagged a cone of fries from the Boardwalk vendor on the other side of food pavilion. The sweet ending to our dinner was the Whoopie pie for dessert. I had heard about these delicious cakes but neither of us had ever eaten one. I think Aaron's face says it all: DE-LISH!

The fairgrounds began to swell with visitors the closer it got to 6 pm and the start of the tractor parade. We settled for a spot near the old steam engines and at the intersection between the old and new equipment. As we waited for the parade to begin, it was obvious to me that many of the attendees at the show knew each other. They swapped handshakes, back slaps (for the men) and air kisses (for the women), and lots and lots of laughs. In the way that we were visitors, they were family. 

I've included a few more pictures here of the steamers that we saw. It was amazing to see people of all ages driving these large pieces of equipment. And some were even holding babies or dogs! The parade lasted about 75 minutes and they started with the oldest equipment first. These steam engines were farm machines that were built between 1885 and 1925. I found it interesting that most of the old engines were built within short (200 miles) distance from the fairgrounds but after some thought realized that there few national brands then. The parade included lawnmowers, which I found hysterical as I don't really consider that in the same class as the rest of the equipment (as if that matters!). In the end, there were over 320 'vehicles' that participated. 

Blue Moon Tractor Pull

The event ended with the tractor pull. The picture features the Blue Moon, so second moon this month and the last blue moon we'll have until 2015. It was a perfect end to an adventure filled day.

Run, Marcy, Run!

City Mouse Now Country Mouse
No. 3

Anyone who knows me, knows that I don't run. I will gladly dance, skip, jump, saunter, swagger, and of course, walk but running has never been in my repertoire of movement. That was until I met the Cybex.

The Cybex is the treadmill pictured here. It's the newer of the two types of treadmills that are in the exercise room at the Woods. While I often describe myself as a technologist, I have discovered that when I stand in front of a piece of modern exercise equipment I become totally useless. The user interface is not familiar to me and often you are prompted to answer questions without knowing how to change the options. There in lies the crux of my issue that prompted me to run.

During the summer in Dallas I spent three to four days a week walking 5K on a treadmill at the local YMCA. I timed my visits so that I could watch NCIS or Bones during my walk and I was perfectly happy to walk at 4.0 or 4.1 mph. I wanted over 100 miles between June 1 and August 10 when we left Dallas. I have not been doing my walking over the past two weeks with the move so it was time to get back on track.

So, I met the Cybex on Monday. I selected the 5K option and ffter entering my weight and age, I started walking. The program had me going slow over the first three or four minutes so I ambled along, content to watch the news on the TV. Suddenly, at the five minute mark, the Cybex kicked up to 6.0 miles per hour. Fortunately, I could feel the immediate shift in speed and I picked up my pace to match it. I must admit that I laughed out loud when I first started running; me, running?! The first few times this happened, I immediately dialed the speed back to an easy 4.1 or 4.2. After another half a dozen times, I started running for as long as I could at the 6.0 speed--first for 30 seconds, then 45 and finally up to 1 minute at a time. I also found that after running for even a short time, I could also walk at a much faster speed, 4.5. So, by the end of my workout on Monday, not only had I gotten to the end of my 5K a full 5minutes faster than I ever had in Dallas, I also was personally proud of my new accomplishment.

The Cybex and I had another go today and I shaved another 3 minutes off my time. There is nothing better than when you surprise yourself. I heartily recommend it!

I'm Ginger Peachy!

City Mouse Now Country Mouse, No. 2

Yes, I'm Ginger Peachy! After eating locally grown peaches for several days in a row, I decided to make peach preserves. Growing up in Burtonsville in the 70's, there was still lots of farming in that part of Montgomery County. We regularly drove down Peach Orchard Road, and yes, there was a peach orchard at the north end of the road. They had yellow peaches, white peaches, cling peaches and free-stones. It was a language and a season all its own and I got to relive a few memories.

      In making peach preserves, it is much easier to use free-stones to cling peaches. The terms refer to the way that the peach flesh adheres, or clings, to the peach pit. Cling peaches mature earlier in the peach season and it takes more effort to get the sweet fruit off the pit. Typically, we would buy the clings but they were only to accompany one's breakfast or for a peach cobbler. It was not until mid-July that we would enjoy the free-stones.

At this point, I can't remember my favorite variety of free-stone peaches but I do know that when that peach was in season, we made plenty of preserves. The peeling, chopping and cooking was then followed by the washing, sterilizing, and labeling. At the time, Mom and I choose the wax seal to boiling water bath as a method of sealing the sweet contents. The wax seal was as fun (although not always effective) but it was a great way to use old candles that were too small for the dinner table. Given that we have not lived at the cabin long enough to have short candles, I opted for sterilizing water bath this time. I must admit, after all the work it took to get the preserves to the jarring point, I was most worried that an inch of boiling water over the closed jam jars was going to ruin all my work. Much to my delight, it was not. What I discovered is that there are times when  following the directions actually work. 

    And isn't that what we learn in life? We try to preserve the sweet things that we enjoy now so that we can preserve them, and enjoy them later. We also learn that the wax seal method, while fun, is not as long lasting as the boiling water bath. So, I'm learning and growing and Ginger Peachy in WV!

Welcome to City Mouse Now Country Mouse!

I have been a city girl all my life and now I find myself living in rural West Virginia. It's a time for me to learn about the simpler life, focus on what's really important, and prepare for the next adventure. I thought you might enjoy reading about some of my adventure and some of the lessons I learn.

So, how did I choose the name for my blog? My Daddy used to call me "Miss Mouse" sometimes and  I have always loved the Aesop's fable of the City Mouse and the Country Mouse. In the story, the two mice are cousins. The Country Mouse invites the City Mouse for a visit in the country--to enjoy the bucolic, simple life. The City Mouse finds his visit dull and promptly invites his cousin to go back to the city with him where he promises that they will dine like kings and enjoy the high life. The Country Mouse agreed and traveled back to town with his cousin. As promised, the cousins were enjoying an extravagant feast when their dinner was interrupted by the homeowners hungry  dogs; the cousins had to run for their lives and narrowly escaped the canine intruders. The Country Cousin thanked him City Cousin for his hospitality and happily returned to his simple, quiet life.

So as for me, now I am a Country Mouse. I already know there will be lots of adventures and I hope you will enjoy traveling through the rural countryside with me--

Sending you sunflowers and cool breezes--
Marcy