We took a drive last week and I caught myself pointing out to the kids all the houses that their dad built. My husband bricked quite a few very nice homes in this valley over the past few decades, many that the younger kids had never seen.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that one house, a stately white brick, now had black vinyl shutters instead of the previous kelly green ones. I never did understand how anyone could choose that shade of green to put on such a beautiful home.

If I take Maggie and her friend to the mall this weekend, I think we may take a detour to see some of the homes that Brian did in Ohio in the early 90s. I know Maggie never saw them and I’d love to take a look again. It’s been a very long time.

• Posted in:
  • Construction,
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments Off

Today, March 19, is the feast of St. Joseph in the Catholic Church. St. Joseph is the patron saint of workers.

Since as far back as I can remember, we celebrated this day with specially made donuts that my dad or my Aunt Jo would make. Served drenched in honey or sprinkled with powdered sugar, they’d be waiting on the table for us when we got home from school. I still remember the year we returned home to find the donuts on the table, my dad looking very sad and my mother nowhere to be found. My grandfather, my mom’s father, had died that morning. In retrospect, it was an appropriate day for PapPap to meet his maker since he was a very hard working man, a coal miner before there was a Union, who had escaped from Communist controlled Croatia to find a better life. He’d raised 6 children during the Great Depression and ended up with Black Lung disease. I loved my PapPap.

The recipe for St. Joseph Day donuts comes from my dad’s family. I realize now that Italians, or at least the ones I call family, love to celebrate holidays. We tend to celebrate a few more holidays than most other people and always with special food. If anyone else celebrates this feast day (or any other, really) please comment and let me know. And if you try our family recipe for St. Joseph Day donuts, let me know that, too.

St. Joseph Day Donuts
March 19

• 4 eggs
• 1 cup water
• 2 Tbsp. sugar
• 2 cups all purpose flour, sifted
• 2 Tbsp. baking powder
• 1 tsp. salt
• 2 cups oil for frying

Beat eggs well in water. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir flour mixture into egg mixture. This should be the consistency of pancake batter. Cover and allow to rise in warm place for about 30 minutes. Heat oil. Drop by Tablespoon, 2 at a time, into oil. Fry until golden. Coat with honey or dust with powdered sugar.

Enjoy!

• Posted in:
  • Family,
  • Food,
  • Tradition
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (10)

Everyone keep your fingers (and toes and eyes and whatever else you can think of) crossed that when Jesse calls on Friday he’s ready to have me order his plane ticket home. I don’t want to bug him every time we talk but it’s killing me waiting for a definite date. I miss my boy so much!

I know that when he gets here the first thing he’ll do is hug his dog and then head to garage. He’ll throw the car cover off of the Honda S2000 and be off. That’s why I plan to stop on the way home from the airport for a meal. I want to hang out with my son a bit before he heads out to see all his friends.

But first things first. I need to encourage him to set a date for coming home and then get that ticket. I miss my son.

• Posted in:
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments Off

Can someone explain children to me? I know, I have six of these creatures and really ought to have it all figured out by now. But I don’t and I doubt I ever will.

About an hour ago, Levi moaned his way into my office to let me know that he is starving. He’s not hungry; he’s starving. Granted, Levi is a slender child but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t eat. He does. He’s eaten twice today. Yet, when he was told that it would be at least 30 minutes until the chicken is done, he just about fell apart before my eyes.

And then, somehow, he mustered the energy (in his starving state) to drag himself up to his bedroom to play his playstation 3. And we haven’t seen him since.

I’ve called to him several times. He answered once. I told him supper is ready. He said he’d be down “in a minute.” Naturally, my concern is that the poor child is so malnourished that he can’t lift his weight the distance from the PS3 to the stairs so he can propel himself to the bottom of the steps and have someone spoon his food into his lifeless body.

And now the real question: Do I march up the stairs and insist that he come down right this minute or do I simply divvy up his portion between those waiting to eat? Evil mom or stern mom? What do you think?

• Posted in:
  • Family,
  • Kids
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (9)

We’ve gotten into a wonderful habit of sitting down together as a family on the weekend and watching a movie. That may not seem like a big deal to some, or even most, people but it is to us. With children who range from age 29 to 11, a grandchild and the “opposite” nature of my husband and me, it’s always been easier for each of us to go to our own TV and watch alone. Making this effort has paid off, though.

Not only do we get to spend together watching the movie, but we also end up discussing our favorite or not so favorite parts the next day or later in the week. Interesting that we’re bonding over something as simple as a movie. Even more interesting is that we’ve all enjoyed the movies that we’ve chosen. Well, almost all. I did excuse myself from a scary one a few weeks ago. I can’t do horror films.

The only issue we really have right now is that every movie we watch ends up with the closed captioning running on it. That doesn’t happen on regular TV shows so we figure it has to do with the DVD player. But then, it doesn’t happen on Kendyll’s Dora DVDs, just the full feature films we rent or buy. How odd is that?

Tonight, after Kendyll goes to sleep, we’ll be watching another movie. I sure hope I figure out how to turn off the darn closed captioning by then!

• Posted in:
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments Off

Now before you click away, thinking this is going to be a sappy, emotional post, stick around a minute to read a paragraph or two. Seriously, this is good. I’m about to make fun of myself and expose one of my major flaws so if nothing else, you can laugh at me.

Recently, I confessed in a rather public forum that I have big ears. No, seriously, I have really big ears. Of course, my ears would be fine on someone who stands about 6’5″ or so. According to my kids, I look funny because I also have a big nose, a big mouth, and big eyes all on my little 4’11″ body. Children are excellent at keeping you humble. And insecure.

I’ll also mention that for years I blamed myself for my children’s ears. I thought I was the reason they all had these huge ears that stuck out. It wasn’t until I saw picture of my husband’s grandfather that I realized that while my kids got the size of their ears from me, the “sticking out” part came from their dear old dad. And I have not hesitated to point out that fact every time the opportunity arises.

But back to me. And my ears. Now, I’m one of those people who believe that all babies are just adorable. At least I used to believe that until I saw a picture of myself, at the ripe old age of 5 months, with my ears exposed. Oh.my.goodness.

I give you my word that those ears are not photoshopped. They are real. I was born with ears as large as many adults. Maybe larger.

But wait. I mentioned a mother’s blind love, didn’t I? Ah, yes. My mother….

When my kids discovered that photo in the bottom of one of my dresser drawers, they had quite a good time laughing about it. I admit, I chuckled, too. When I spoke to my mom later that day, I mentioned the picture to her. She was so confused! She insisted that I had perfect, tiny, baby ears. She refused to believe that my ears were exceptionally large. Only a mother could look at those ears and see tiny.

Yes, a mother’s love is truly blind.

• Posted in:
  • Family,
  • Kids
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (12)

Before this leap day is over, I want to wish my godfather, Uncle Mel, a happy birthday. He’s the only person I know born on February 29.

When I was a kid, for as long as I can remember, Uncle Mel sent me a wonderful gift for my birthdays. By wonderful, I mean that so much thought went into them. (I imagine that his wife, Aunt Flo, had a hand in that.) There was always a card that had little slots for coins. Every card had 10 dimes stuck in the little slots. It was so much fun to count those dimes! And the gifts were always from one of the pricier stores in town, wrapped perfectly with a big bow. My favorite gift was a pink skirt and sweater; I can remember wearing it when the Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan and standing in front of the TV and doing the twist. I must have been about 4.

Uncle Mel always remembered my birthday. Since I’ve been grown, I’ve remembered his with a phone call. Granted, that’s every 4 years instead of every year. It was nice speaking to him tonight, though. He’s moved south so he isn’t nearby but he sounds the same as always.

So, Happy Birthday, Uncle Mel. I love you.

• Posted in:
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (2)

My mom and I have a special relationship. We’re very different in so many ways and yet, we have these really annoying similarities. Take today, for instance.

My mother called to ask me to remember back a few days, to when she stopped by my house. She asked me if i remembered where she stopped before she got here and where she stopped on her way home. Most people would think that’s very odd. I didn’t.

My mom and I tell each other where we’re going, reciting the things we need to do as if we’re recording our to-do list for the day. We each politely listen to the other, knowing we’ll remember only half of what we hear and hoping it’s the right half.

In this case, I remembered the right half. I recalled one of my mom’s stops that day and she was instantly relieved. Why, you may wonder? Well, it’s because she’d written at check at that stop but hadn’t written it in her register. At lest once a week, either my mom or I go through this little exercise, trying to recall where we’ve been so that we can be sure not to end up with a checking account overdraft.

I don’t have this problem as often these days since I try ot use my debit card most of the time. Still, it happens now and then for me and almost weekly for her. What a strange trait for my mom to pass on to me. Gee, thanks mom!

• Posted in:
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments Off

Anyone who has followed my blog for any length of time knows that I have a son currently living in Hawaii. Specifically, he’s on the north shore of the island of Kauai, in Kilauea. To say that it’s a beautiful place would be an understatement. I fell in love with Kauai in 2001 on my first visit and I love it still.

I’m so happy that Jesse’s been able to stay in Hawaii and work. He really does love it there. It’s just that I really miss him. Yes, I have five other children. Still, with one so far away, there’s just always a little ache in my heart. It wouldn’t be quite so bad if we had a way to talk to each other more often. but all we have are our cell phones and reception on the north shore of Kauai is worse than it is here in the hills of West Virginia – and that’s saying a lot!

Granted, the lush greenery, the majestic mountain in the center of the island, the valley where Jesse’s house is located, all make for a paradise setting. And they also make cell phone reception unbearable! Every conversation takes about 5 or 6 redials – yes, we get cut off that often.

What’s the answer? Well, after some research it seems that the best way to stabilize our cell phone reception is to invest in a portable cell phone booster. This device not only boosts signal strength but it also reduces disconnects and extends battery life. Can you imagine how much better Jesse’s signal will be with one of these? We’ll be able to talk anytime we want! Just look at these test results:

Not only does it operate on AC at home, but it can also switch to DC power for use in the car with a cigarette lighter. That makes it an excellent bargain since there are a number of beaches that we enjoy there with an even weaker signal than Jesse gets at his house. It’s really kind of frightening to be near the water with no way to call for emergency services; the portable cell phone booster isn’t simply convenient, it’s a potential life saver, too.

The more I read about this signal booster, the more I know it would be perfect for Jesse in Hawaii. It comes with a protective case and according to the directions on the website, it looks like it would be snap to set up.

Jesse has been in Hawaii since 2005. We’ve spent three of his birthdays and one Christmas apart. I’ve been fortunate to have visited him a few times each year, even bringing his baby niece with us last March, but it just isn’t the same. As much as I love having a reason to travel to Hawaii, I would much rather have my son home. That probably won’t happen this year, but I think I’ve found a way to bring him a little closer. Well, to bring his voice closer, at least.

It’s kind of odd to view an electronics product in such an emotional way. I guess you’d have to be a mom with a child almost 5000 miles from home to understand. All I know is that Jesse’s phone calls are usually one of the best parts of my day. This signal booster can make those calls even better.

• Posted in:
  • Electronics,
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (1)

After Levi’s basketball game today, we stopped by my mom’s for a few a hours. Levi wanted to stay for the next game but I didn’t think Kendyll would sit still for another hour. So my mom stayed at the game with Levi – she’s a real basketball fan – and I took Maggie, Boomer and Kendyll to her house to spend time with my dad.

My dad was still sleeping when we got there. He’s 84 so I guess it’s normal that he sleeps till noon. I went in to his room to give him a kiss and I think I scared him a little bit. He can’t hear so I woke him with a kiss.

It’s odd seeing my dad looking old. I remember when his brother slept in that bed as my parents nursed him through his last days with cancer. I remember my grandmother and my Aunt Jo in that room, so old and frail. In fact, you’d think my parents would have adjustable beds set up in every bedroom, so they could care for elderly relatives. There have been four in all, as recently as a year ago. My parents are amazing.

We’re all growing older but it just doesn’t feel right seeing my dad aging like this. He’s supposed to stay young. In my mind, my dad is 40, handsome. He’s got a spring in his step. He stands up straight, goes to Elby’s with his friends or takes us downtown to visit his old hangouts. Like this:

Or I remember my dad as a grandfather, just recently retired and enjoying the kids. He’d drive down to my house to pick up one of the kids, take them out to McDonalds or something. He’d let the boys hang out with him when he cut the grass or did some chore that my mom assigned him but my dad’s best side was when he was just being his own loving self. And that was always most evident with his granddaughters. My dad was the best father a daughter could ever have. He loved us unconditionally. He loves his granddaughters the same way. Maggie always loved her Pap Pap, too.

But my dad is 84 and looking aged. He doesn’t leave the house much these days. He hasn’t driven for several years because he had too many accidents in a short time. He’s forgetful. He sleep late, and naps often. There’s more gray in his hair, but he’s still not totally white. He walks with a cane, although he still shuffles around the kitchen without it.

After we left my mom’s, she talked my dad into coming to my house for a little birthday party for Kendyll. My dad loves Kendyll and really comes alive when she’s around. He plays hide and seek with her and doesn’t seem to get tired of looking for her over and over again. And Kendyll loves my dad. The two of them talk to each other and somehow, my dad understands what Kendyll is saying. That’s funny because my dad can’t even hear the rest of us. My dad has always loved his girls.

• Posted in:
  • Family
• • Send to a friend,
  • your printer or
  • your friend's printer
• • Comments (4)