My Bizarre Return to Poetry

From a young age I’ve enjoyed various forms of writing. It’s an area of commonality between my mother and me. Growing up, Mama used to write letters to us three girls—addressed to Tammy, Angie, and Karen. I still have a couple of them. These were not letters outlining daily expectations or weekly chores. Rather, they were heartfelt accountings of where she stood as our mother, the pride she took in that role-- her love for us. Sometimes they even included statements acknowledging her personal shortcomings and/or why she had taken this action or that. Mama also wrote creatively from time to time—poetry and short stories. My older sister, Tammy, kept a journal from a young age. She, too, is a writer—in fact, the most gifted of us all. She had written volumes of work before we were grown, and since she never parts with anything, I would wager that she is sitting on enough excellent writing to constitute several books at this stage. As for my younger sister, she and I, to this very day fondly remember and, from time to time, recite one of her poems that she wrote to me in my autograph book when she was in the second or third grade.

I wasn’t much for keeping a journal growing up—mainly because, while my desire and ability to write comes from my mother, my strong desire for privacy which is prevalent throughout my dad’s family superseded any inclination to journal given that Mama was…well, nosey… when it came to her kids. It was more or less a fear-driven sort of nosiness. As a single mother working multiple jobs throughout my childhood, Mama was compelled to know everything about her kids for their protection.  This was easier to do with my sisters than with me because I value my privacy—particularly around my feelings, and to me, journaling is a way to release feelings as opposed to documenting the weather and such.  I gravitated toward creative writing from about age 14. I still have a good bit of the poetry, songs, and stories written during my teenage years.

During my sophomore year of high school I transferred from my county school to the city school where I could focus more on improving my writing through an extensive writing curriculum offered there. It was indeed a fantastic learning experience for me that boosted both my quantity and quality in various writing forms—everything from essays, technical, and journalistic writing to all creative genres, and, of course, research and theme papers.  Writing, like most skills, requires continued practice to maintain proficiency and to support growth. For over a decade, during my 20’s and into my early 30’s, I got away from all forms other than business letters, memos, marketing pieces, and college course-related themes, essays, and articles. Then during my pregnancy and throughout my daughter’s first 18 months I kept a journal of both my pregnancy and Abigail’s growth and development. Returning to the workplace, I reverted to strictly need-based writing for over a decade until May 31, 2011 when I returned to journaling.  I include many different thoughts in my journal. It’s where I note my goals, plans, feelings, and completed actions toward my intentions.  I read and re-read my journal entries often to assess my progress.  On July 28, 2011 I write, “I want to blog.” 

Blogging was and continues to be a means of my contemplating, reflecting, observing, gaining understanding, connecting my thoughts to my feelings, and honing my writing skills. In a twist of what can only be deemed ultra-bizarre, about eight months after I began to blog for my own personal benefit and without any thought of anyone reading the blog, I received a comment on a recipe from a person bearing the name of a man that I had not seen or heard from in 34 years. I knew the name, Curtis Dunlap, immediately.  I could not be sure this was the same person that I had known over 3 decades back—not without a word-association game that the Curtis Dunlap I knew would, undoubtedly, relate to immediately, thereby; solidifying that my blogging was, indeed, the source for this unexpected, improbable  reconnection. The words:  Camaro, machete, Friday nights, Rolling Stones, guitar. Yes, believe it or not, it was him, as verified on the comment thread of my blog entry on September 26, 2011, “Supper from a Sauce Packet.” Now, to add another layer of plain odd, this was the very first of my blog posts.

Turns out Curtis Dunlap went on to lead a productive life. He raised his two sons and is raising his daughter. While he has made his living in the field of information technology in academia he has never relinquished his arts interests and abilities. He is a writer who honed his skills to become a published poet. Curtis coauthors a weekly blog that I enjoy and recommend to anyone who is into the culinary arts. His partner, Susan Nelson-Myers, is functioning at an expert level in the area of growing, managing, and preparing foods. Curtis, as a single father, is appealing strongly to the vast population looking for ways to save time and money in the kitchen while keeping the benefits of sitting down with the family for a home-cooked meal at least once a day. Their multi-facetted blog incorporates cooking recipes and tips with poetry woven into their story-telling for high-yield entertainment. You can find Curtis and Susan’s blog, The Frugal Poet, at http://www.frugalpoet.com

No one could possibly have predicted the bizarre twist of events that led me back to poetry.  In July of 2011 I re-engaged in journaling that prompted me to start blogging in September. Eight months later in May, 2012 my very first blog post pops up in Curtis Dunlap’s Google search for “shrimp recipes” compelling him to leave the comment that resulted in our becoming reacquainted after 34 years. Reconnecting with Curtis reminded me of a time when writing creatively was a passion that I routinely acted upon.  Having re-engaged in the writing process, I have found that there remains a plethora of emotions derived from my life experiences that flow effortlessly from my pen—sometimes like a still, easy lake on a hot summer day, and other times like a gushing waterfall in a hail storm. Last month I decided to submit some recently-crafted pieces to various journals. The first of my own published work can be found in the current issue of Contemporary Haibun Online at http://contemporaryhaibunonline.com/index83.html

Grab the Good Stuff

Abi chose a nice, firm, multigrain baguette for the bruschetta I made yesterday. We enjoyed it immensely as an evening snack since I drug my feet a little getting to it. I figure it this way—bruschetta is good just after it’s made and better with a little time after the savory flavors have blended. That brings me to today’s culinary adventure.

I decided I was in the mood for Coquilles St. Jacques. This is a delightful French dish featuring scallops which I hadn’t had for a while before today.  Now, the roux for this recipe is half dry, white wine and half cream. I don’t bother using cooking wine because I’d just as soon take advantage of the opportunity to have a glass while preparing the dish.

Now, let me barely scratch the surface of a funny story about how I came to know of this absolutely splendid dish. When I was about eight months pregnant my husband's ex-wife invited us to her home for dinner. This was a bit questionable to me because it was a well-known fact that the woman loathed my very existence. Still, I went, hoping, once again and against nothing other than hope itself, that she was sincerely extending the olive branch of friendship. She wasn't. She was simply taking advantage of the fact that I was big and pregnant; somehow surmising that my husband would find his way back to her through his favorite dish, her Coquilles St. Jacques. Not a terrible plan, I suppose. While I was, indeed wrong again about her motives, the meal was, as clearly... remarkable. I always say, grab the good stuff and throw the insanity back, so that’s what I did when I hung onto my awesome coquilles St. Jacques experience. Of course, as is usual, I made it my own, and, in this case, I quite intentionally improved it which surely one might expect. ;) 

The flavors work really well together as you'll note when you read the recipes.

  

I'm careful with the delicate subtly of scallops. If they are to be the star we mustn't get too bold with other flavor so you'll see I pair it up with a non-competing side dish.

One of the best things about this meal is that all components bake at 400 degrees which is wonderful for bringing the meal together at one time. All I have to do is put the asparagus in first, wait 10 minutes then add the bread, wait another 10 minutes and add the scallops to the oven. Ten minutes later everything is ready all at once. Gosh, I love it when that happens!

    

I’ll share the recipes for all components today. Naturally, the bruschetta was a leftover from yesterday. A nice addition of color to the plate, although; normally, I would hesitate to add basil to the palette. It worked today because I used the bruschetta as more of an appetizer, although; it isn't pictured above as such. 

Baked Asparagus

1 lb fresh asparagus

1 tbs extra virgin olive oil

1  garlic clove (minced)

½ tsp thyme leaves

½ tsp lemon juice

Salt and Pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400. Wash asparagus and snap the ends off.  Lightly coat a baking dish with olive oil and minced garlic. Lay asparagus in the dish in a single layer. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and thyme leaves. Drizzle with olive oil. Bake for 15 minutes. Turn asparagus and bake for another 15 minutes.

Coquilles St. Jacques

1.5 lbs scallops

1 shallot (finely chopped)

2 c. white mushrooms (thinly sliced.)

1 c. dry white wine

1 c. half-n-half cream

½ c. gruyere cheese (shredded)

3/4 c. bread crumbs

1 lemon

5 tbsp butter

1 bay leaf

¼ tsp thyme

¼ tsp white pepper

½ tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 400. Saute mushrooms and shallots in 3 tbs of butter and lemon juice until golden brown. Remove from heat.  Bring wine, bay leaf, thyme, salt and pepper to a boil in a sauce pan for 4 minutes.  Add scallops and reduce heat to simmer for 3 minutes.  Remove scallops to mushroom pan. Reserve 1 cup of the liquid from scallop broth. Melt remaining 2 tbs of butter in sauce pan, add 4 tbs flour whisking constantly. Slowly add broth from scallops and half-n-half, stirring constantly until roux thickens. Add mushrooms, shallots, and scallops to roux. Spoon onto baking shells. Sprinkle with bread crumbs. Drizzle lightly with melted butter. Top with gruyere cheese. Bake for 10 minutes.

Oops, is that a tomato seed I see? Oh well, it tastes great!

Garlic & Chive Bread

1 multigrain baguette (sliced.)

½ stick butter

1 tbs fresh chives

1 clove garlic (minced)

Preheat oven to 400. Soften butter in microwave maybe 20 seconds. Stir in garlic and chives. Spread over bread and back for 18 minutes.

Bruschetta

7 Roma tomatoes

1 small Vidalia onion (chopped)

1 c. fresh basil chopped

2 cloves garlic (minced)

1 tbs extra virgin olive oil

1 tsp balsamic vinegar

Salt and Pepper to taste

Parboil tomatoes. Peel, seed and chop eliminating most juice. Add all other ingredients and chill.

Out-Quiched!

Today I got off from work at about 1pm so I had a good opportunity to drop by the produce market for some fresh goods on my way home. My daughter, Abi, is good about assisting with foods management. She was particularly interested in seeing what fruits and veggies will be on-hand over the next week as she begins her senior year of high school Tuesday morning and packs her lunch daily. As I passed apples, peaches, and plums she told me about a pumpkin latte she wanted to make using almond milk, so we began to make a list of items we wanted to pick up from the grocery store.

Putting away the last of the produce, I quickly checked the freezer, both for available space and for inventory. I, once again, found myself repositioning two frozen pie crusts that have been occupying premium freezer space since last year’s holiday season when Abi had gotten into a pumpkin pie-baking mood. In an instant I decided that today was the day when these two freezer anomalies would be utilized. Tossing the crusts onto the countertop, I added half-n-half and eggs to my mental list asking Abi to start brainstorming  a couple of quiche creations for dinner. Together, we headed for the grocery store discussing the pros and cons of universal healthcare en route.

As is usual we split up upon entering Super Fresh. She’s getting her latte ingredients while I shop the seafood counter. We meet at the bakery because Abi always wants some decision-making power when it comes to fresh bread. I told her I’m making bruschetta this weekend, so she chose a good, multigrain baguette to accommodate the topping. Proceeding through dairy we begin to share our quiche ideas. We decide that she will create one and the other using a basic recipe of 6 eggs, 1.5 cups half-n-half, 1.5 cups cheese, and 2-3 cups of meat and/or veggies. We figure we’ll decide when we get home because we know we have plenty from which to choose to fill in the gaps in our recipes.

We finished up our trip grabbing a variety of cheeses, eggs and milk, and discussed our quiche ideas during the trip back home.  We both were stuck on using fresh spinach so while I made spinach the feature ingredient in my spinach & mushroom dish, Abi chose to make smoked salmon the star of her recipe with the spinach playing second fiddle. While it is usually not the case, Abi kicked my butt in the kitchen this evening. She totally out-quiched me! Her salmon, spinach, and goat cheese quiche is outstanding which is why I’m sharing her quiche recipe with my salad creation of the day.

Fresh Greens & Fruit Salad

Mixed greens

cucumbers

strawberries

mandarin oranges

sliced almonds

sweet onion & poppy seed dressing

I love salad and create a variety of both side and entree salads all year long!

  

Smoked Salmon & Spinach Quiche

6 eggs

1.5 cups half-n-half

1.5 cups goat cheese (crumbled)

1.5 cups smoked salmon (slices cut to ½ wide pieces)

1 cup fresh spinach leaves

1 9-inch pie crust

Pre-heat the oven to 400 and bake the crust for 10 minutes. Remove and lower oven temperature to 375. Lightly beat the eggs and whisk in the half-n-half. Add salt and pepper.  Layer spinach, salmon, and goat cheese in the pie crust. Pour the egg mixture over the ingredients. Bake for 45 minutes.  Let cool for 5 to 10 minutes before slicing.

Abi's Smoked Salmon & Spinach Quiche is delicious! The goat cheese was an excellent choice for the dish.

A Mother's Love

I’ve been engaged in the preliminary aspects of my daughter’s college applications process. I am so blessed to have such a wonderful daughter, and  I’ll elaborate upon a mother’s love as I know it, but not before noting my present emotional state around my motherhood which is that I am struggling; struggling with this milestone in my daughter’s life that leads her further away from me. She has been the primary focus of my existence since her conception; about 18 years now. It is difficult for me to fathom my life redirected—much more difficult than it is for her to imagine her next step. It is an exciting time for her. It is a time when being her mother means embracing her exuberant leap toward independence while trying desperately to conceal my sorrow for the loss of my life’s purpose over nearly two decades. I suppose I should see it as just another completed project, and break out the balloons and whistles, but it is…just different, and while I know what my role and responsibility to her at this time are, it is a time peppered with bittersweet emotion that can move me from laughter to tears with no warning whatsoever as trailers of our lives flash through my mind.

It appears that it is not too early to claim a victory in that my daughter is a well-adjusted, thriving 17.3 year-old, rising high school senior with high ambitions scheduled for 5 out of 8 Advanced Placement courses in her senior year and with a primary goal of nothing other than learning. What is to question? What is not to love? To boot, she is a gifted technical vocalist (according to the state of Delaware) with not only a beautiful face, but a sensational sense of humor, and a keen knowledge that these are subjective to the opinion of the observer, with whom; she is not particularly concerned. Abigail, my daughter, is quite an amazing and intriguing individual.

I’ve heard many a pregnant mother talk about the innate love they have for their unborn child. I can’t speak to that. I only know that while I felt keenly responsible for the well-being of my unborn child, I definitely did not have the same love for her in the womb that I have for her now.  I did take great care of her even relinquishing caffeine as she was in utero and throughout her nursing year. I ate well. I was physically careful with myself as I carried and nursed her. Her well-being became my primary focus, and that has not changed to date, while my love for her has developed, grown, and deepened immeasurably with each passing year.

I’ve also known mothers who lived vicariously through their children. I’ve not done that. It has been of much greater interest to me to know who my daughter really is and to nurture all the she is intended to be. I’m comfortable that I’ve done that. I spent a great deal of time and energy exposing her to every sport including swimming, soccer, gymnastics, snow-skiing, tee-ball, baseball, field hockey, lacrosse, horseback riding, and tennis.

 I exposed her to the arts. Her first music class was at 12 months. She completed every level of Kindermusic  followed by choir from grade two to present.  Abigail is a placing state-wide competitive soprano I vocalist. She also has practiced karate, dance, piano, steel drums, musical theater, drama not to mention bass guitar and, most recently, ukulele-- both purely self-imposed.  Abi has auditioned and won community theater roles as well as professional voice-over and film work. She has done various forms of fine arts including drawing, painting, and sculpting, clay and pottery making.  She’s knitted, crocheted, sewn, and made quilts. She’s been exposed to all genres of writing, and won district-wide writing awards as early as third grade.  Most of all, Abigail has been an avid reader with an affinity for fantasy, and she has excelled at languages with an emphasis on English and French from age three. Yet, Abigail mostly loves science, and her love of science drove her to math.

Not only has Abigail been exposed to an array of sports, arts, and academics, but she also was exposed to a rigid schedule of Christian education from birth through grade 8, and Girl Scouting from Kindergarten through grade 6. She knows the Bible stories (both Testaments,) and she can survive in the woods over the weekend in about any weather orienting herself along the way and navigating back to civilization. She has traveled enough of the U.S. and Europe to know that landscapes, time zones, seasons, climates, languages, and cultures vary, and that people are really just people anywhere she goes, and she has a great deal of respect and reverence for diversity.

As my daughter completes her summer AP work, pursues her college applications process, and anticipates the rigors of her senior year that she has planned, I have no doubts about her preparedness for this next phase of her life, yet I don’t even know how I feel about my own. I do know that to date I’ve upheld my definition of motherhood, and I do know that it includes a love that is different from all other forms of love. There is nothing quite like it, and I’m not so sure that there is enough of me to have done multiples so it is probably a wise decision that I limited myself to just one daughter for she is most certainly sufficient.

Bend with the Wind

I’ve mentioned before the importance of flexibility; not only where travel is concerned, and, particularly with travel. Reflecting upon the last several days I  have a splendid opportunity to share with you a classic example of what I mean when I say it is best to begin with a plan infused with a spirit of flexibility when the goal is to be nothing less than fully, and I really do mean, fully satisfied with an overall travel experience.  

My daughter was nominated and selected to attend the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine held in the DC area over the ten-day period encompassing the weekend preceding Independence Day, 2012. In fact, I was to pick her up in Northern Virginia at 10AM on July 3rd. Given that DC/Northern Virginia is on the direct path to my relatives in southwestern Virginia, and given the fact that the week would be a slower one at work, I decided to take Friday off as a travel day to head all the way down to Mayodan, NC to visit lifelong friends for a couple of days before making my way back to hit my mom and sister in Martinsville, my other sister in Lynchburg, and then make my way further north to pick up Abigail on the way home to Wilmington, Delaware. Now, this would be plain leisurely over five days. See, how I’m planning?  Got my big, 7 to 8-hour driving day on the front end and making my way back 2 to 3 hours at a time. I know they are expecting a 100+ degree heat wave,  and my air conditioning is working so all is well.

I’m going to highlight a couple of things that occurred at each stop that made my experience remarkable. I wish I had photos for everything, but I’m really ineffective at remembering that I have everything I need to document  “a moment” on my cell phone. One thing is for sure, I wish I had a picture of the flounder sandwich that I had in Madison, NC with my friend at a diner. It looked amazing, and I could not help but devour every single morsel because it was by far the very best fish sandwich I have encountered and served by the very best diner waitress I have ever encountered. Now, understand how significant that is. I’m from the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I will guarantee you I’ve been in some killer diners including the one where my dad took my mom on their first date. This woman, at Airport Drive-In Restaurant in Madison, with her bleached blonde hair, pink lipstick, extraordinary, greenish-grey eyes, and beaming personality…well, because of her and her recommendation for the flounder sandwich, the super cool diner experience gets an honorable mention on my recent trip south.

Then, back in Mayodan, NC, I had the utter privilege of learning to make pizza dough while enjoying a wine tasting, and conversing about everything from soup to hay with a friend I’ve known for over three decades. After that, I had the pleasure of dining on some of the best pizza I’ve ever had, and I cannot wait to make some myself! It doesn’t stop there, I got to leave with a jar of 14-day Icicle Pickles grown and canned by the Mayodan folks.

I head into Martinsville, just 30 minutes north to find that my mom is displaced from her home due to an extended power outage. I track her down. You can do that sort of thing in small towns like where I grew up. By now her power is back on, and she is both surprised and delighted to know that I’m in town. You may wonder how she didn’t know I was coming into town. Well, I’ve taken to surprising her with visits over the past couple of years. First, it’s fun for her, and then,  I love the giddiness it evokes in her when I make my regular call and a few minutes into the conversation ask her, “Well, are ya’ gonna let me in, or just leave me standing on the porch?” Good times, I tell you, to see her bright smile as she flings open the door, phone still to her ear.

Things didn't go down quite that way this time, and it was no less fun. This time I tracked her down at a friend’s home and said, “Boy, you sure do have a lot of dishes stacked up in your dish drainer, and there’s no food whatsoever in your refrigerator.” She was taken aback and responded, “Yeah, I had to bring all my food here because we lost power, but how do you know?” So, then I tell her I am standing in her kitchen. Mama's kept a key outside her house since we started locking the doors at night or when we left the house. I guess I was maybe 10 years old when we started locking up, and hiding a key in most obvious place imaginable. She says it's because otherwise she'll forget where it is. Naturally, she rushed home as happy as I've ever seen her.

From Martinsville, I was to begin my trip back north through Lynchburg where my sister lives. As I’m about to leave for her home I am notified that the storms have taken out not only power to most of the Lynchburg area, but one report states that there is no access into or out of Lynchburg due to fallen trees and closed roads. My sister, luckily, had gone to her vacation home in Tennessee, and while she had intended to return over the weekend, the weather coupled with a bit of car trouble disrupted her timing and plans. Now, at this point I suppose I could have called the whole trip a failure, and maybe I would have except that I knew it was not. I had already had nothing less than wonderful experiences, and while so many were at this very same time suffering with no electricity in dangerous heat, I hadn't broken a sweat. I certainly had nothing to complain about.

Considering that I had also received a notification from the leadership of the forum my daughter was attending that the program had moved to the center of DC on Pennsylvania Avenue-- also due to these far reaching power outages, I decided I might want to bend with the wind and head north as it now seemed that the better part of the state of Virginia was suffering power outages in 100+ degree heat with no fix in sight for days. 

I made it into DC where my daughter was staying within about five hours. I found reasonably-priced accommodations just five blocks from the ridiculously expensive hotel where my daughter was spending her time. My overnight stay at the Marriott Courtyard located at 9th and F Streets was the perfect locaton for walking which is exactly what you want to do in DC. The folks at the forum had offered a $20. parking credit due to the location change mid-stream. I figured with that I could justify using the valet service which was really the same cost as me fooling around with hunting down a garage for the night. Either way, it would be about $40. so I just got real grateful for being reimbursed for half of my parking costs.

Upon unloading the vehicle on the valet attendants, I got a relaxing shower, prayed for all of the people who were without power and displaced from their homes, and went for a walk dropping in at the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the International Spy Museum before having a light dinner and returning to my room for a good night’s rest. I decided to have breakfast at a beautiful French bistro/bakery I had seen on my evening walk about town. I just couldn’t get that place out of my mind. The little French bistro gets an honorable mention for the trip. I do have some photos of it because I had my camera with me. Of course, I nearly always have a sufficiently good camera with me, but I forget because I call it my cell phone.  Anyhow, look at this place, and then I’ll tell you about the absolutely delicious breakfast I had at Le Pain Quotidien while listening to the best of classical piano by composers of the 18th century.

Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Pastries, Breads

The Communal Table

I had this beautiful omelette with wild mushrooms and goat cheese topped with olive oil and basil.  I loved the fresh  mixed greens  to start the day, and the bread was, of course, outstanding.

This is the great little story card they delivered with my check. This is an $11.95 breakfast. Below is the story that appears inside the card.

In the beginning

It seems fitting that the story of Le Pain Quotidien begins in a kitchen.  Standing tiptoe on a stool, a small boy reaches up to the counter to help his aunt make her pastries. Many years later, and several feet taller, the same boy is at work in a fine Brussels restaurant, preparing food for his guests.

But one morning, he decides that the bread being served could be much better.  Perhaps he recalls the afternoon spent in his aunt's kitchen, or the recipes his grandmother had taught him. In any case, he perfects his own bread recipe of only flour, water and salt, and opens a bakery on Rue Dansaert in the fashionable heart of Brussels.

The boy's name? Alain Coumont.

The next challenge was to find a name for the bakery. During an ordinary conversation, Alain's father exclaimed "ce n'est pas mon pain quotidien!" meaning literally "it's not my daily bread." Alain remembered the phrase a few weeks later and used this expression for the name of his new business.


After breakfast I walked down the street to meet and sign out Abigail from the custody of the National Youth Leadership Forum on Medicine. She, wheeling her luggage along behind her, talked non-stop all the way back to our vehicle about her extraordinary learning experience, and I listened with great interest as she injected her stories with her intelligent humor as she tends to do. We called for the car, loaded it up with our bags, and she pulled up the GPS guide on her phone. She hopped in the driver's seat, and as we headed out of the city, she began to talk incessantly about her college and career plans, the friendships she had made, and the details of her educational experience, never once giving any thought to the fact that she was navigating Washington, DC traffic and the significance of that as a fairly new driver.

At one point she mentioned that several of the youth called their parents and left the program as they endured the power outage prior to relocating to metro DC. I was surprised that parents would cater to their kid's retreating so quickly when faced with unforeseen/unplanned adversity that requires nothing but a little flexibility. I told Abi as much. She agreed, and expressed her gratitude that she is able to go with the flow and roll with Plan B, bend with the wind when things aren't going exactly as planned. She noted that all those who "weathered the storm" couldn't help snickering when they walked into the JW Marriott there at 13th and Pennsylvania Avenue (down the street from the White House) where I didn't stay because the lowest price there is $399.00 plus tax per night! I gathered their new accommodations were quite a few steps up from where they began their program. Kudos to the NYLF team and the youth who completed the program, for knowing how to travel with a plan infused with a spirit of flexibility.

Thank God for $20. Hotdogs

Back in year 2000, after having worked 6 to 7 days a week (mostly 7) for an 18-month period, I decided to take my family on a vacation.  I had earned it.  My new construction job site was cranking with good systems in place, and I had adequate full-time support to justify the time away.  I was tired, needed a break from the grind, and my daughter, Abigail, at age 4.5 was ready to experience none other than “the wonderful world of magic,” Walt Disney World!  I had never been to Disney myself, so I, too, was bound to enjoy it having read all of the stories and watched all of the movies with Abi.

I began planning the trip around Thanksgiving of 1999. I like to research and even interview folks before I travel. I figured that gathering good information and tips for a Disney vacation should be pretty easy to do since I knew so many families who had been-- some, repetitively, and others annually. Now, I make no pretenses in my perception that the world is big place, and until I’ve seen it all, I’d, for the most part, just as soon refrain from going back to the same place year-after-year (unless it’s free, of course.) Disney World is nothing close to free in my experience. Let’s just say that while I was dumbfounded by the $20 hotdogs we had while racing to catch the Electric Parade our first night at Disney, by the time we left, just 3 days later, I was thanking God for those $20. hotdogs we had since that was the cheapest of all the food we had during our stay.

The exorbitant cost for food was revealed during my interviewing process, so I was somewhat prepared to overspend for mediocre meals.  I had also heard that waiting in lines for 60 to 90 minutes in the sweltering, Florida heat isn’t much fun.  I was pretty sure that long wait times would not work for Abi. I imagined the misery of creeping along in the line with a cranky, hot, tired, sweaty 4.5-year-old latched around me as I fiddle around with water bottles, crackers, sunscreen, hand sanitizer, and anything else I can find in my “bag of tricks” to fritter away the 90-minute wait for a 60-second ride before joining the next 90-minute line. Fortunately, I had a friend who had the skinny on the “best times to travel” to Disney. The two weeks when the crowds are reportedly most scarce are the third week of January and the fourth week of August.  I concluded the 4 days at Disney World would be during the third week of January, 2000, so we could both flee the January chill of the northeast, and avoid the heat and humidity of August in Florida.

The more I read up on Disney, and considered Abigail’s age, my fatigue, and the fact that we wouldn’t be doing Disney World repetitively, the more I became convinced that on-site accommodations were the way to do this thing. I decided we’ll go once and become fully immersed in the Disney experience—luxury accommodations and all!  This would give me tram access so I could get Abi back for a nap easily when needed. I chose our accommodations based upon the location of the park that I thought we would be spending most of our time exploring which, given Abi’s age,  gender, and clearly-stated desire was the fairytale land of Magic Kingdom. Location dictated that The Polynesian would be in great proximity to Magic Kingdom so I booked the 4-night stay.

Now, a funny thing happened.   The more I read about and anticipated what 4 nights in Disney World might look and feel like, the more fatigued I became. It is a very stimulating environment, and I was already tired. That’s when I figured I probably ought to just go ahead and schedule a vacation to accommodate the vacation so I began to look at other Florida destinations—those more relaxed in nature.  I figured a week further south where we could lounge around and read by some body of water under some sunshine and palm trees would probably be a fairly relaxing precursor to Disney World. Of course, I’d hope to see some art, do some cooking, and drink a little wine on a deck somewhere overlooking some water, and observe some wildlife. I wanted something relatively inexpensive considering the way I had planned to do Disney World. I found such a place called ‘Tween Waters Inn. It’s an absolutely delightful, little spot nestled between the Gulf of Mexico and Pine Island Sound on Captiva Island.

View from the deck.

Comfortable, modest, with a full kitchen.

Beautiful setting!

My precious little girl with me.

Logistically, here’s the way the travel went down. We flew into Orlando, rented a car, and drove about four hours down to Captiva Island where we relaxed, read, hung out on a quiet beach across the street from ‘Tween Waters, cooked some meals in, had some wine on the deck watching the sailboats, wildlife, and sun sets, tooled around town and found some fun art galleries, and picked up a couple of cool pieces from my favorite gallery down there, Jungle Drums. After 6 nights of rest and relaxation, we drove back up to Orlando and stayed at the Polynesian for 4-nights before flying back to Philly. Here's some of the wildlife we got to observe.

Pelican

Gator

White Herron

Feeling like we needed to learn something, we day-tripped up to Fort Myers which is about a 45 minute drive. There, we toured the summer estates of Thomas Edison and Henry Ford where we took a look into Thomas Edison’s life as an inventor and his friendships with both Henry Ford and Harvey Firestone. The gardens and landscape include hundreds of unique species including many huge Ficus trees that were planted by the three men who wintered there. They referred to the gardens as their “botanical laboratory.” My favorite is a Banyan tree. Planted in the mid-1920’s it is one of the largest Banyans in the country, truly a magnificent sight to behold.  We brought back some pencils for Abi’s classmates, and, of course, my coffee mug bearing a favorite quote of Edison, “There’s always a better way. Find it!”

"I've not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." ~Thomas A. Edison

87 year old Banyan Tree. Roots begin above ground, grow, then  connect and root into the earth. They look like small  trunks. What you see in the photo are roots of the Banyan.

After 6 nights of restful, low-key, low-cost bliss, we headed for Disney World with the happiest child on earth in tow. The photos tell the rest of the story. With ear-to-ear smiles, we never waited in a single line, and Abi rode every ride she wanted to ride as many times as she wanted. We saw every show we wanted to see. The weather was beautiful hovering between 65 and 75 degrees.  We dined with every Disney character known to man, and then some. We got photos and/or video with most of them. We paraded with them. We shopped for Disney stuff like Abi’s Minnie Mouse costume, and her Luau get-up (both of which she nearly wore out over the following year,) and for my coffee mug which I had to retire for a few years after chipping it.

Eeyore & Abi

Piglet & Abi

Pooh & Abi

Tigger, Abi, and me

Daisy, Abi, me, and Donald

White Rabbit & Abi

Abi, Mickey, & me

Minnie & Abi

101 Dalmations

Abi in her Luau attire at The Polynesian

Here’s how I know that place really is magical. Most folks know that I do not enjoy overspending.  Yet, I hemorrhaged money at Walt Disney World, and, to this day, when I look through the pictures and recall my child’s utter delight with everything there-- when I reflect upon holding her clammy, little hands for hours on end as we traipsed through Magic Kingdom from open to close, I can’t help but smile, and thank God for those $20. hotdogs.

Get Plenty of Rest, and Eat Your Veggies

I’m a morning person—always have been. I turn in early and I awaken early. This is another thing I share in common with both of my parents, and especially with my dad. This habit of sleeping overnight has been with me for so long that I never had a curfew growing up.  My mother joked that it didn’t much matter because, regardless of where I was, she was pretty sure that I was asleep by about 10PM. Neither of my sisters have a preference for rising early, but I know I can call either of my parents before 8AM, and if I wait much past 8AM, I’ll miss Daddy because he’s out running his errands by then.

I find the early morning hours between 5AM and 7AM are the most peaceful time of the day. I like to read, write, set my goals, review my action plans, and ponder all that the future holds for me at the start of my day.  Not only do I routinely rise bright and early, I have never used an alarm in my life. I can think of few things more irritating than being jerked from peaceful rest by the blaring noise of bells, buzzers, or even music. I prefer to just accept and work with my natural clock which dictates when I go to sleep and when I awaken, and for me, that natural clock includes eight to nine hours of sleep nightly (depending upon whether or not I’m getting enough exercise.) With greater physical activity, I’m good to go with eight hours. Six to seven will mean that I’m in bed an hour or two earlier the next day, and four to five will mean I’m nauseous  and sleepy until I, well, finish sleeping. I just go with what works for me which is going to bed when I’m sleepy and wakening eight or nine hours later refreshed. I have always wished that I could be highly productive with just six hours of sleep. It isn’t the case. I’ve tried it. Eventually I fall into about a 17-hour slumber and awaken at some unknown hour in a state of confusion, not knowing what day it is, and somewhat alarmed that I may have missed something of critical importance. This is the second worst way to awaken-- with the first being by a blaring noise.

I’m also more energetic in the mornings. I prefer to exercise early to mid-morning and then do some food preparations, cleaning, or gardening mid to late morning.  On days when I’m not working that’s sometimes exactly what I do. This morning I put together this delicious broccoli-cauliflower salad. Now, I’ve done many versions of this, and the one I concocted this morning may be the best one yet.

Broccoli-Cauliflower Salad

The Veggies (this time):    

Great "take-along" dish to share.

                            

1 bunch fresh broccoli

1 head cauliflower

1 red bell pepper

1 small red onion

The Sauce:

½ c. Ranch Dressing

½ c. Mayonnaise

2 tsp Buffalo Wing Sauce

The Simplicity of Putting It Together:

Chop (small) the broccoli with stems, cauliflower, pepper and onion.

Put the vegetables in a large mixing bowl.

Add salt to the vegetables and mix together.

In a measuring cup mix the dressing and mayo. Stir in the wing sauce, and blend well.

Pour the sauce over the vegetables. Mix well. Cover and chill. Serve cold.

I make some variation of this dish during the warmer months. The primary ingredients-- broccoli and cauliflower are consistent, and I do vary the others from time to time using what I have on hand that might fit like cucumbers and tomatoes. This is a great side dish to grilled chicken. It is also an easy “take-along” dish for a neighborhood gathering or cookout.  Whenever I’m attending a function where bringing a dish to share is suggested I like to take a vegetable dish because I think most folks aren’t getting their daily recommended 5 to 9 veggie servings. I’ve found that people will try a recipe at a gathering that they may not have ever even thought about at home. Then when they see how tasty it is and obviously simple to prepare, next thing you know I’m getting an e-mail asking,"What was in that broccoli salad you made for the picnic last week"?