Jesus, Mary and Joseph

I took the Boy to his first CCD class tonight.  For those non-Catholics not in the know, CCD is the Confraternity of Christine Doctrine.  No they don't have rush week, no one gets hazed and the kegs are strictly for the priests.  It's a different kind of "fraternity" - initiation into the rites of passage for all children raised in the "one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church."  That would be the Roman Catholic Church for all you heathen Protestants out there.

This is a first for my son.  This is a first for me.  You see, I wasn't raised Catholic.  Hardly anyone reared in the Deep South is.  I was born and raised Protestant.  Not just Protestant.... Southern Baptist.  As in hell-and-brimstone-let's-go-to-a-tent-revival-and-get-baptized-in-the-creek Southern Baptist.  Not quite speaking-in-tongues-pass-the-snake Baptist, but not far off.  I spent most of my childhood scared of spending all eternity in the fiery pits of Hell.  I was born again and washed clean of my sins by the ripe old age of 8.  Don't get me wrong.  There's a lot to be said for growing up Souther Baptist.  Dinner on the grounds.  Soulful hymns sung with enthusiasm and hands raised high to heaven.  Passion.  Community.  Conviction.

But something just wasn't right.  By the time I went off to college, I was searching for something more.  I sought the solemnity and history of a more universal faith.  I read books about other religions.  I questioned others about the faiths they in which they were raised.  I dated a Jewish boy.  I even invited the local Mormon missionaries in for a chat when they knocked at my door.  Nothing felt quite right.  Then, one summer, as part of my graduate fellowship, I went to Washington D.C.  It was there, one Sunday, that one of my fellow "fellows" invited me to attend mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.  Thus, began my conversion.

I won't bore you with anymore details.  Suffice it to say, by Easter of the next year, I was a fully-fledged initiate of the Holy Roman Catholic Church.  My father chose not to tell my Methodist grandmother. He didn't want it to be the cause of her untimely demise.  Besides, it was a phase.  Or so he thought.

Fast forward one decade later.  I met my future husband.... on a blind date.  Another story altogether.  So, imagine my delight when I discovered he was from New Jersey.  Finally, a suitable suitor.  Catholic, of course.  Right?  Wrong.  I managed to find the only Protestant man in the whole of New Jersey.  And Southern Baptist at that!  Still, he was suitable in every other way, so I agreed to marry him.  As long as he agreed that the children would be raised Catholics.  And he did.  In our shortened, non-communion marital mass, it was a 50-50 congregation.  50% Catholic including myself, all of the groomsmen (go figure), and my fellow teachers at the private Catholic school where I was working.  The other 50% consisted of the groom and the families of the bride and groom.  

A couple of years later, along came the Boy.  And true to my word, at 3 months old, he was dressed in a beautiful white gown - oiled, blessed and christened.  And so, too,  for my daughter who followed 2 1/2 years later.

Which brings us to tonight.  Yes, he has been raised in the Catholic Church.  Yes, he has gone up to the altar every week to receive his blessing.  Yes, he kneels beside me during Mass.  But the questions have begun.  "Why do I have to kneel?  Daddy doesn't."  "Why can't I stay with Daddy instead of having to go see the Priest and be blessed?"  "Why can't I have some bread?"  "Why do you keep putting that water on my forehead when we leave church?"  I should warn his teacher.  He's big on questions.  Lots and lots and lots of questions.  

Sounds familiar.

Hotlanta

Just spent 4 days in Atlanta.  A little weekend vaca with my sister, niece, mom and the kids.  Remember when vacations used to be relaxing?  Yeah, me neither.  Everybody has their own agenda, things they would like to do, and compromise just isn't part of a kid's vocabulary.

Still, we had ambitious plans ... and reservations ... and CityPasses, so off we went.  


So, you'd like to know, how was it?  
HOT!!!
And crowded.


Note to self:  Never go to Atlanta during a heat wave.  Or take Marta.  Remember, Atlanta is not a pedestrian friendly town.  And parking is cheap in comparison.


But we did love the Aquarium (although, personally, I could have done without the Broadway imitation of the Little Mermaid that is the Dolphin Tales).  And the World of Coke is always a favorite, especially Taste It!  where you get to try all the disgusting sodas that they for some God-forsaken reason love in Asia. 
Blah!


So, if you're planning a trip to Atlanta remember these trip-friendly tips:  


-Stay in a hotel outside the downtown area and drive everywhere.  It's worth it and traffic isn't that bad.


-Definitely buy City Passes.  You'll save money on tickets to the Aquarium, the World of Coke, the CNN tour, the Museum of Natural History and a few others.  Plus, you'll get expedited entry which is great when it's 100+ outside and everybody and their second cousin's wife decides to come on the same day as you.


-Don't eat in malls... or at any attractions.  It's the same bad food as at home. Except it costs more.  Pack snacks instead and go to the Cheescake Factory when you're through playing tourist for the day.


-Rent an oversized vehicle if you plan on going with at least 2 other women who like to shop.  Otherwise, you'll spend the entire trip back in the only 1 X 4 foot cranny not occupied by bags from Neiman Marcus, the Container Store, IKEA and every other store that doesn't exist back where you're from.


-And lastly, regardless of how hot it is, how long the lines are, and how cranky the kids become, HAVE FUN!  You know, National Lampoon Vacation fun.  Clark W. Griswald kind of fun.  The "I'm-gonna-have-fun,-and-you're-gonna-have-fun!-We're-all-gonna-have-so-much-fu**ing-fun-we'll-need-plastic-surgery-to-remove-our-Goddamn-smiles!-You'll-be-whistlin- Zip-a-dee-doo-da-out-of-your-a**holes!" kind of fun!!!


So, don't forget your sense of humor.


And some extra underwear ..... just in case.

Hey... What's for Dinner??

I love summer time.  Not so much the heat (although being a Southerner, I'm much more tolerant of the heat than bitter cold).  What I really enjoy about summer is the massive variety of fresh vegetables.  When I was a kid, I spent my summers in the insufferable heat picking every kind of vegetable my grandfather could fit in his garden, which was a lot.  So, as you can imagine, I had an extra reason back then to hate vegetables.  But now that I'm grown, there's nothing like a table crowded with plates and bowls full of tomatoes, corn, peas, beans, okra, potatoes, zucchini, and squash all straight from the garden. My husband, a Yankee,  says it's a great perk being married to me because every time my mother visits, she always brings him Slocomb tomatoes.

There are, however, some vegetables that we never grew on my childhood farm.  These I only became acquainted with in my adult life.  Among my favorites is eggplant.  So, you can imagine how excited I was when the hubby went to the grocery store last night and found a couple of big, beautiful eggplant.  It gave me the perfect excuse to make one of my all-time favorite dishes ... Khoresh-e bademjan (Persian eggplant and beef stew).  It takes a bit of effort but is so worth it.  


Want the recipe?  Click here.

(btw, my kids hate vegetables as much as I did as a kid .... guess it's a rite of passage)

Well, Hello There.  It's Been A While....

Like many endeavors I undertake, I started this blog with good intentions.  I wanted a way for my in-laws  to be able to get weekly stories and pictures of the kids since they refuse to Facebook, forget to open their emails for weeks at a time, and for some reason, the few times we've tried Skyping, they couldn't get the sound on their end to work.  As you can imagine that didn't last long.  The kids would quickly loose interest in a one-way conversation and wander off, leaving me to try and lipread what their grandparents were saying.  Fun, fun.  Thus, the creation of my blog.  But, it soon became evident, they didn't lacked the technological savy necessary to visit here, either.  So, my blog became an extension of my Facebook page.  Which was redundant ..... and time-consuming.  And other things came along (a new business, for one ....... and The Big Bang television series, for another.  There are a lot of episodes to catch up on when you've missed the first 5 years of a series.).  But now that summer is upon us, leaving me with endless hours to wile away, I'm back.  That's the long and the short of it.  Aren't you glad to know?  No??  Well, there it is, regardless ........


So, even if no one ever visits me, here I will be.  I will try to be more diligent.  Maybe some people will read my musings, most will not.  It doesn't matter.  The true intention of a blog is stroke one's ego, to make them feel as if their life is meaningful and interesting.  In the digital age, we're all writers now.  I'm no different........ 

The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia

I know that I usually blog about my own family, but this one is about someone else's.  I watched a documentary the other night about this family (clan would be more accurate) from Boone County, West Virginia.  The most notoriously rough and rowdy family in this area of Appalachia...........  And that's saying a lot considering this is the same area that spawned the Hatfields and McCoys.


This family is a bunch of hard-drinking, hard-livin' hillbillies.  They do drugs, sell drugs, drink copiously, fight regularly, kill occasionally, and spend a great deal of time in and out of courtrooms, hospitals and prisons.  Let's put it this way, even the law doesn't f@#k with the Whites in Boone County. They stay the hell outta the way.


I really don't know what fascinated me the most about these people.  Maybe the sight of the most famous member, Jesco White, dancing in his daddy's "horseshoe clogs" on a picnic table in front of the old homestead while Hank Williams III strums his guitar and sings a song he wrote about the White clan.  Or maybe it's the scene where daughter, Kirk, (Apparently, all the girls have boy's moninkers.  To, I suppose, give them a tougher appearance. Completely unnecessary, as these girls can hold their own in a bar fight) snorts Oxycotin in her hospital room only hours after giving birth.......  On second thought, it would have to be when Sue Bob, Mamie, Bo (that's another girl, btw), and Derek White smoke pot at Bertie Mae's 85th birthday party while the long-suffering clan matriarch sits under a portrait of Jesus Christ muttering, "Git that sh!t outta my house!" .................. No, no, wait! .............. The cherry on top of this nightmare of a cake would have to be ....... <drumroll> ........ hearing Kirk's (the daughter who was doing drugs in front of her newborn ... remember?) 5- year old son, Tylor, cussing like a sailor and telling his aunt to take him to find his dad so he could "kill that f*@king son of a b#tch!" ...... while in the family mini-van driving his mother to rehab........... 


I couldn't make this shit up.


I'd laugh if it weren't so tragic............. No, I take that back............. I was laughing despite my disbelief and horror................. I couldn't help myself.


What else can you do when the family mantra is (according to Maime) "Coming into this world is nothing, going out is nothing... but at least the world knows who the f&@k we are!"


And now you do too.


Check them out at: http://www.wildandwonderfulwhites.com/



"Add this remarkable movie to your must-see list."  - Variety


"[it is] the story of the Whites, the most badass family in West Virginia. They’re the Hatfields and McCoys all rolled into one, fired up on every pill in the medicine chest."  - New York Magazine


"The Appalachian clan is notorious for criminal activity and reckless, larger-than-life characters. They tap-dance, shoot and stab people (including each other), and sell (and do) a lot of drugs. Think Soprano smeets Coal Miner's Daughter." -  boingboing


"It’s a vividly nihilistic counterpoint to the reality-TV era..."  - Movieline

Jarrett Turns 6

Sorry I'm so late posting these.  My life feels like a scene from Alice in Wonderland lately ... topsy-turvy and chaotic.

Still, here are some photos of all the fun that was to be had.

He wanted a Ninjago themed party complete with decorations and costume attire, but he settled for a Lego party with a Ninjago cake (decorated by yours truly).

Party favors were a collection of some of the Boy's favorite things:  SweetTarts, Captain America and Star Wars stickers, Ninja miniatures, traditional party blowouts, and, last but not least, ......... whoopie cushions.

Here's hoping the kids' parents forgive me for that last one.

Spaghetti Carbonara

Forget Match.com or Cosmo quizzes.  

If you want to know if you are compatible with someone, cook with them.  

My husband and I have been married almost 8 years now, and we are like an old married couple already.  

No, we don't finish each other's sentences.  Nor have we begun to look alike.  We've discovered that we make a decent spaghetti carbonara together.  

Those who have attempted this dish discover very quickly that in order to avoid disaster, you must have two cooks in the kitchen.    

It's a culinary tango.

Spaghetti Carbonara

1/4 lb. of bacon,chopped (if you want to be truly authentic, substitute prosciutto)

1/2 TBSP chopped garlic

freshly ground black pepper

1/2 lb. of spaghetti, cooked al dente

2 large eggs, beaten

salt

1/2 C grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

1/2 TBSP parsley

In a large saute pan over medium heat, cook the bacon until crispy. Remove the bacon and drain on paper towels. Pour off all the bacon grease except for about 1 1/2 TBSP. Add the garlic. Season with black pepper.  Saute for 30 seconds.  Add the crispy bacon and the pasta.  Saute for 1 minute. Season the eggs with salt.  Remove the pan from the heat.

Now, the fun begins.

While one person tosses and stirs constantly, the other should slowly drizzle the egg over the pasta.  You must do this quickly in order to prevent the egg from scrambling.  Then while you continue tossing the pasta, have your culinary partner sprinkle the grated cheese a little at a time until thoroughly coated.  Re-season with salt and pepper to taste.  Garnish with parsley. 

Enjoy, Lady-and-the-Tramp style.