Milestones or maybe mileage is a better title...

Dearest Blog friends (and Dad),

There has been much quietness on the blog since last week because there's been so much excitement in real life.  Mary Rollins turned 16, we went to New York to celebrate (saw Isabug and David -- on break from Rock Stardom for a night, had fabulous time, want to see some pictures?), returned home, and Mary Rollins got her driver's permit.

What I really want to write about is driving with a new driver.  It makes me twitch, as in, "Mom, could you please stop twitching?"  I can't help it.  It's not my leg sore from trying to phantom brake as I have been warned of; it's trying to control the impulse to grab the steering wheel.  All right, I'll admit, I have grabbed the steering wheel.  Trust me, there was good reason.  I don't think those walkers on Lakewood realized just how close to the grim reaper they were.  It's getting better each day though and yesterday we tackled Alumni Drive and two left turns across traffic.

On Friday, as she went for her very first drive after passing the learner's permit test, I said, "You know what?  I don't know that I put on enough deoderant this morning, Mary Rollins."

Her response, "Me either." 

CSA Radishes

Pretty, aren't they? We got our first CSA basket yesterday overflowing with Chinese cabbage, romaine lettuce, bok choy, green onions and these beautiful babies. I've never been a big radish fan but these were like vegetable candy. Will ate a slice of one with some ranch dressing and said it left the best taste in his mouth.

Hello Earth, it's good to eat close to you!

Afternoon with a rock star...

I know a rock star. To be more specific, my awesome nephew by marriage is a rock star. David Linaburg, guitarist for the college tour of J.Cole – Grammy nominated artist, played at UK last night for their spring concert. How awesome is that? And to make David feel completely at home during his three hour break between set-up and show, the Mathewsies showed him the best of Lexington life.

First, Mary Rollins and I picked him up from his hotel, drove him to Orange Leaf and we had frozen yogurt. In spite of living in New York, David had never experienced self-serve frozen yogurt. David pointed out that you probably have to live in a clean city to have something like self-serve frozen yogurt. Good point!

Why look, Will's had a tremendous growth spurt as
evidenced here with man in black, David.

We tracked down Will at home where he was busy burning his own microwave popcorn (he was full of self-sufficiency yesterday – see previous post) and let David see our old Kentucky home for 5 minutes, hug Will and be accosted by some Jack Russell Terriers. Then, Mary Rollins, David and I got back into the car to deliver her to the Opera House of a last minute blocking of Cinderella. He saw all the important landmarks of downtown Lexington: Transylvania University, Gratz Park, Christ Church Cathedral (twice).

Afterward, I took David, past my office (wow, you work above Starbucks) and stopped in to meet Marc at Charlie Brown’s on Euclid where we had a bottle of Kentucky Ale and everyone’s favorite Kentucky treat, beer cheese. Marc was meeting a CPA/attorney friend of ours at Charlie Brown’s that he’s trying to coerce into taking over as church treasurer when his term ends. Kenton was undoubtedly impressed with our rock star connections. I think we all enjoyed David’s stories about living on a bus with thirteen people and becoming fluent in hip-hop. He claims that he only understands it but can’t actually speak it.

David was a great sport shadowing me in my mom activities. He even offered to help me grocery shop! And, after his drinks and conversation at Charlie Brown’s, he indicated some interest in pursuing a future in public accounting if he ever makes a career change from music. He’d make an excellent accountant.

Next time David comes to town though, I want to take a turn shadowing him as the rock star.

We love you David Linaburg!! Thanks for spending your precious few hours of break with us!

Candy sandwiches

Lexington Ballet’s Cinderella began this morning with a first school show at 10 a.m. Mary Rollins had to be at the Opera House by 8:15 am so my normal morning routine was a bit off. I didn’t go to the gym so that I would be ready for the earlier than normal trip downtown but my schedule wouldn’t be so off that I couldn’t be home in time to resume my regular morning Will activities.


Will typically rises at some time between 8 and 8:15. His morning includes dressing and some laying about on the couch snuggling with Howie and then having a breakfast that I fix while I also make his lunch. MR fixed her own by the time she was Will’s age but I don’t mind fixing Will’s lunch as I have a bit more control of what he eats. In truth, I guess I don’t really think that Will’s capable of successfully making a healthy lunch for himself. And, another part of me figures he has the rest of his life to make his own lunches so I’m happy to pack his school-day meal.

As I was driving home from the Opera House ready to switch into Will gear, I was talking in depth to a client about Jessamine County property values. Will was calling in but I couldn’t get to his call. I didn’t worry as I was only a few minutes from home. Pulling into the driveway, there was Will putting down the garage door, climbing onto his bike and heading off to school, on his own. This, the boy I had left asleep in the bed twenty-five minutes before.

“Will, what about your lunch?” I called.

“I made it myself. See you!” and like that, he was off.

Good heavens, what did that boy make for lunch? I thought first that we had Peeps left from Easter and perhaps he made his own version of chicken salad out of them.

But, there on the counter was an open pack of cheddar cheese slices and an open bag of bread. There was a missing banana, and the drawer with baggies was open and my sack of used grocery bags was laying on the floor. There was also an open box of frosted mini-wheats on the counter so clearly he had even made his own breakfast! I’m so proud and only a little sad that Will doesn’t need me to get himself off to school.

He only needs me to clean up afterwards.

More real estate stories...

One day I'm going to write for you all the true story of how I became a Realtor. Seriously, I did not ever think, "when I grow up I want to be a Realtor." It happened in a more organic kind of way. However, my grandmother, along with being an attorney, was a real estate agent so perhaps it was there in my blood all along.

Although, I never aspired to be a Realtor until February 8, 2005, I haven't ever regretted the decision. Why? Because I'm never bored. I may have days that are frustrating but I never, ever have boring days. And, I never have the same day twice!

For example, it's not every job where you can have learning moments like this:

A buyer-client called me yesterday to tell me that she had seen a for-sale-by-owner home on line that interested her. I call the owner after finding the on-line listing myself to see if I can set up a time for a showing today. The owner says, "well...you see, that might not work. My soon-to-be ex-husband is still living in the house with a guy friend of his and he doesn't know that I'm trying to sell the house. So, I guess I'd better tell him that I think we should sell it. How about if I call you back?"

I don't know about you, but I think I can see one of the problems in their marriage.

Note to self for both best marriage practices and home-selling: Never try to sell your house without telling your spouse.

A Book Review: Born Wicked

Living with young people, I find myself often reading Young Adult literature. Truthfully, when it's well-written I really like the genre as a whole and read YA books just because they're fun. I read the Harry Potter books, for example, ages before my kids were ready for them. I suspect I'll be reading YA books when my children are grown-up (which feels like it might be next week at the rate time seems to fly by...but I digress).

Recently, the first installment of a new YA book series fell into my hands courtesy of the Blogher Bookclub. Born Wicked by Jessica Spotswood is a story of three young witches living in New England in the late 19th Century. The US, in which they live, is not that of our history but one run with religious fervor by a Taliban-style Brotherhood who fear the uprising of witches. Young women are forced to declare their intentions at age 16 either to marry or join The Sisterhood--a convent of seemingly pious women who serve and support the men of the Brotherhood. Women live in constant fear of being named witches and sentenced to an asylum or labor on a prison boat without the ceremony of a trial.

Cate Cahill and her two sisters Tess and Maura are motherless teenagers whose father, still grief-stricken over the death of his wife years before, has abandoned his children to the care of servants and their own devices. Cate, the eldest and our narrator, was charged on her mother's deathbed with the protection of her younger sisters. The three girls also happen to be witches. As Cate approaches the age of intention she worries what the future holds for her sisters who have difficulty restraining their magic if she marries and is forced to move from her family home.

Oh, what tangled webs! If I rated this book on my personal Twilight (1) to Harry Potter (10) scale of young adult fiction, I’ll give this book a 7. I passed it on to Mary Rollins who is reading away at it – it has lots of romance, a bit of mystery, a good-sized helping of magic and a pinch of The Scarlet Letter. It doesn’t have any vampires which I find wonderfully refreshing. And, now I’m waiting expectantly on the edge for Book 2.
Just so you know, I was compensated for writing this review for the Blogher Book Club. The opinions, though, are entirely my own. Always are, always will be.

Cooper River Bridge Run

Here we are making our 5th consecutive Cooper River Bridge. Some of us we're really happy with our times, some of us...not so much.

Three of us finished in the top 10,000.

Bus-riding granola eaters

Back in the seventies, my mom discovered granola.

Once a month, she went to her favorite group meeting, "Homemakers."  Homemakers were a group of women that as far as I can determine, were grown-up 4-H.  They met once a month at someone's home and there was always a lesson taught by either the Agriculture extension office agent or by one of the group members.  It was a very crafty group devoted to improving the lives of their families.  I remember one lesson must have focused on sewing "knitwear" and my mom got really excited about stretch fabric and was going to sew some swimsuits for me.  There was a really great neon green fabric we picked out and the pattern she was going to sew was a one-piece with cute draw strings up the sides.  I'm still excited about that suit and I can't wait to wear it!! I wonder if she's going to finish it anytime soon.

In the health food category, they must have learned about the nutritional value of granola one month. In California, they were probably eating granola in the sixties.  But not in Kentucky, we didn't get granola until the seventies so learning about the hip foods people ate on the west coast was really exciting!   The day after the meeting, Mom had a nice box of Nature Valley granola for us. Always eager to try something new, I poured myself a big bowl. It was good!  I think those Californians knew where it was at. 

There was a downside to granola though which was that I was a bus rider.   Not only were the Williamson kids bus riders but our bus stop back in the Delong Road days was at the end of our half-mile long driveway.  If we missed the bus we had to walk back up the half-mile hill to the house and our mom charged us a dollar to drive us to school.  Naturally, when your allowance for the week was about 50 cents missing the bus was a bad thing.

So, no one mentioned to my mother at the Homemaker's granola lesson about how long it takes to chew granola or that a little bit of granola goes a long way.  If one lives in a house with a clean plate rule at every meal AND rides the school bus, a big bowl of granola is not, I repeat, NOT, a good choice.  Let's just say, that my first experience with granola did not have a happy ending and actually cost me two week's worth of allowance.

In spite of that bad first experience, I still liked granola.  I use it more as a topping for yogurt though or as a quick snack than eating large bowls of it.  Mary Rollins is hooked on it too.  I've also discovered recently that making your own granola is easy, delicious and possibly cheaper than buying it in the box.   I created my own recipe which follows and it achieves high ratings from Mary Rollins and Marc.  It must be pretty good because it's disappearing in the kind of quantity that might make one miss the bus!  Wouldn't those Homemakers be proud of me?

Granola recipe
6 cups oats
1 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 sweetened coconut
1/2 sunflower seeds
1/2 cup slivered almonds
1/2 cup wheat germ
1 cup of dried fruit (I use craisins and golden raisins)


2/3 cup canola oil
1/4 cup amber maple syrup
1/4 honey
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1.5 teaspoon vanilla
1 tab water

Preheat oven to 275

Heat oil, syrup, honey, brown sugar, vanilla and water over medium heat until melted together and a bit bubbly.

Mix dry ingredients together in large bowl and pour liquid mixture over it and stir until well mixed.  Divide the mixture between two baking sheets covered with parchment paper.  Bake for 30 minutes,  stir about and bake another 20 minutes and stir in dried fruit of choice (or perhaps chocolate chips???).  Let cool out of the oven for about an hour and store in an airtight container. 

Goldilocks and the Realtor

I was criticized last Friday by my dad (hi Dad!) for not blogging more often. I have been really busy lately though with my real job. Incidentally, I was also chastised for having to make a phone call while at lunch. Sorry Dad, that's the downside of working for yourself and not having a secretary. At least, I could go to lunch, right?

Speaking of real jobs and real estate, I've been having lots of interesting showings lately. One afternoon last week, I showed a house that was supposedly vacant. My client and I went in and discovered a bowl of porridge on the table (actually it was Taco Bell). We went up stairs and I found Goldilocks (actually it was a man) sleeping in the master bedroom. We were naturally a bit surprised although my client was far more startled than I. It's not the first time I've walked in on a sleeper and have even walked into homes where people were taking showers. It's getting harder and harder to surprise me after seven years in real estate.

Upon finding the sleeper, we decided to leave and I intended to tell the agent when she called me for feedback about our little surprise. We were a little late for our scheduled showing time but the agent had told me the house wasn't occupied so I hadn't worried about our timing. When I found the man in the bed I just assumed he was the owner or a friend of the owner and had come home after the time we were supposed to be there. Two days after my showing, the agent called to ask me if there had been Taco Bell trash in the kitchen and if it looked like somebody had been sleeping in the bed upstairs. Well, as a matter of fact... She made a kind of gurgled screaming sound when I told her that not only did it look like somebody had been sleeping in the bed but they were still there.

"What, why didn't you call me?" she asked.

Because, I thought you'd call me for feedback that afternoon and I'd tell you then?!?

Apparently, no one knows who that was eating Taco Bell at the kitchen table or sleeping in the bed. No one really knows how he got in either. Apparently, we walked in on a sleeping trespasser.

I told my buyer-client the story when we were looking at houses a few days later. She was a bit freaked out. Me, I figure if he had gotten out of bed, I would have politely introduced myself, apologized for waking him up and asked if he minded if we went ahead and looked at the master bath while we were there. Maybe it's good he stayed asleep or at least played possum.

Next week, maybe I'll tell you the story about the apartment building, the music professor and the junkie.

What girls eat...

Here in the Bluegrass this week, we have just girls.  What?  Yes, the boys, Marc and Will, have left in my Odyssey to go to New Orleans.  They left at noon yesterday for a much anticipated trip to the SEC Tournament.  For those readers, not familiar with what an SEC Tournament is that stands for the SouthEastern Conference Tournament in which it is highly likely that the University of Kentucky Wildcats basketball team will be the champions.  The boys should have a great time and they have already sent me pictures of Will in Jackson Square and Will standing in front of Cafe du Monde, pictures of the Superdome and pictures of their hotel room.  I am so proud of them.  They not only sent pictures but they remembered to TAKE pictures.  A first, I believe.

Tofu with Sesame Ginger Noodles

Meanwhile, the girls are home having girlie times.  In actuality at this very moment of 8:04 p.m. I am at the office working (and blogging) and MR is at ballet rehearsal.  But last night, we had girlie food. I made Tofu with Sesame Ginger Noodles.  They were delicious thanks very much to my BFF Rachel Ray.  And, cheese-less. 

I sent the photo to the right to Will as a text message.  His response was "Nasty."

That said, I'm off now to drive girls home from ballet and then Mary Rollins and I are going to have a big night of leftovers and Vampire Diaries. 

Life is good (and a little weird without the boys). 

Diary of a Mad Fat Girl: A Book Review

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you picked up Bridget Jones from England, took away her accent and plopped her into Bugtussle, Mississippi?  You can find out if you meet Graciela “Ace” Jones from the newest Blogher Book Club selection Diary of a Mad Fat Girl.  In fact, it might be fun if  Ace Jones met Bridget Jones, although possibly they already met studying abroad in Italy.  They'd have had a good time smoking and drinking their way through Florence and Rome.

Stephanie MacAfee, the author of Diary of a Mad Fat Girl, must have laughed outloud while writing this novel and peppering it with characters that resonate with all the fun and oddity that come from living in a small Southern town.  Ace and her two best friends, Chloe - a good Southern junior leaguer and Lilly, a man-eating former-lingerie model, have no ordinary days playing local school board politics, saving their teaching jobs from the vicious principal of Bugtussle High School, and navigating roller coaster love lives with hunky motorcycle riders, old boyfriends, cheating husbands and the good-looking men of the local police force.  Ace’s strongly Southern voice is hilarious and her observations are a riot.  In a favorite passage, Ace wonders why gyms don’t take a hint from department stores and have plus-sized section so that more generously proportioned women don’t have to exercise with the skinny people. 

While Diary of a Mad, Fat Girl wasn't my favorite book, I had several hours of fun reading it and getting great visuals in my head.  I could hear the characters' voices and by golly, I found myself looking forward to seeing this book as a movie with its funny dialogue, fast-paced plot and charming characters.  In fact, I started casting the movie in my head and finally came up with Brooke Elliott (assuming she can do a good Southern accent) as Ace.  And, maybe whatever dog plays Buster Loo will be as big a star as Uggie.  

I was compensated for this book review by BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are all my own.  

http://www.blogher.com/bookclub/now-reading-diary-mad-fat-girl

March weather

70 degrees and tornadoes Friday. 5 inches of snow on Monday. High of 57 on Tuesday. Oh you fickle Kentucky weather, how you always surprise us.

And, let me say that in every instance I prefer dire snow storm warnings to tornadoes.

Shriner's Hill.  That's Will with the red sled who jumped out of my car like
Snow Ninja to meet his possee on the hill and then off to lunch at Wheelers.

Pancakes a la Mary Rollins.