The Magic Room by Jeffrey Zaslow

We're back to books here at At Home in the Bluegrass.  This time, I just finished reading The Magic Room by Jeffrey Zaslow -- another Blogher Book Club selection for January.  I don't think we have a magic room in Lexington -- a destination bridal store like Kleinfeldts in New York or Becker's Bridal, the subject of the The Magic Room, in Fowler Michigan.  You'd think I would know if we had one but I bought my wedding dress by driving to Louisville with my best friend Stacey and trying it on at Dillard's -- we had a good time but i wouldn't call it magical. And, I picked it up myself and had it fitted on my own. Based on the Magic Room, that was wrong. Apparently your mom is supposed to go with you unless she's dead...

While The Magic Room: A Story about the Love Wish for our Daughters seems to play off the popularity of the current reality TV obsession with bridezilla shows, The Magic Room is a tonic for the overkill of Say "Yes" to the Dress and our wedding day obsessed culture.  Zaslow, in an excellent narrative, follows a number of women's journeys to the altar and their stop at Becker's Bridal. Rather than focusing on the shallowness and vanity of the wedding machine, he writes about love in its varied forms--between husband and wives, parents and daughters, grandparents and grandchildren. It refreshingly reminds us of how much more does and should go into a marriage. I thought that The Magic Room was going to be a girlie book. It wasn't. I was a bit weepy on page two although that passed and I steeled myself for the remainder of the book. More than likely I'll be passing this little gem along to my husband. Why? Because he has a daughter. And, more than being a book about finding a perfect dress, The Magic Room chronicles the trials of running a family business and provides a fascinating look at how much our families and our attitudes toward marriage have changed in the last eighty years. Just so you know, I was compensated by Blogher for writing this review, however, the opinions expressed here are always my own!

Mom and lad night...

I don't have many nights home alone with just Will but tonight MR is off to New Year in the Spirit and Marc took a night at the lake. More surprisingly, Will didn't head off with a friend or have a sleepover here. So what are we doing? Zombie movies are a good guess but no, it's a double feature movie night with comic book action heroes: The Green Lantern and Captain America! Plus, some excellent Five Guys Burgers and fries and about six baskets of laundry to fold. Of the two movies, I'd have to recommend Captain America; I'm a fan of historical action movies. I'm a fan of a little Will time, too. Laundry I could do without but at least the company is great!

Merry Christmas!!

Hi all! I hope that if you are a Christmas celebrator that you had a wonderful day. We did at the Mathewsies. The best part of the day was staying home and having our dear friends join us for a fabulous dinner. Christmas eve was really special too. A beautiful service followed by our now traditional post-Christmas eve Donato's pizza dinner. Sorry not to have any pictures. I am now the proud owner of a iPad2 and I'm still trying to figure out why I can't upload photos to blogger when I'm blogging from it. Hmmmm....isabug? Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!!

Speak up...

A few years back, my brother Morgan was in town and staying at our house.  My mother hadn't been well and he'd been spending a few nights in our guest room.  I went into the room during the course of his stay and while fluffing his pillows noticed a slight spell of cat pee coming from them.  Yep, my beloved cat Maui who at that point was about 14 and had never had an accident in her life had peed on his pillow.  I'm pretty sure the pee wasn't fresh either.  While I may not always be the world's best hostess, I do try to give my visitors the luxury of a clean bed and fresh smelling room.  Mortified, I asked my brother why he hadn't said anything about the smell of the pillows.  His response was that he had just been staying at my sister's house recently and while he was there their cat had peed in his suitcase as well as on the bed.  He just assumed that if you had a cat, things were supposed to smell like that.  He had decided that's what cats do and probably therefore would forgo ever having his own cat (note:  I'm pretty sure he has a cat now).  Not being a complainer, he had just gone ahead and slept on the pee-scented pillow.  I explained to my brother that cats peeing on the bed wasn't a normal phenomenon and in future visits he could feel free to ask for a clean pillow. I'm happy to report that the rest of my brother's stay and on subsequent visits, we have provided him with a cat-pee-free bed.

Reflecting back on this later, I was both amused and horrified that my brother would sleep on a pillow that smelled of cat pee and think it totally normal.  It made me think about how many times we ignore something dreadfully wrong and just accept it as what's to be expected.  And while I love my brother's uncomplaining style, sometimes things need some attention and it really is okay to say, "hey, my pillow smells like cat pee.  Could I have a fresh one?" 

Not Maui.  This is Jewel, the replacement
cat.  A fine cat as cats go, but no Maui.

So, this morning, I ask you, is there anything you should be speaking up about? 

.

Happy Advent!

Do you ever find yourself on the edge of a conversation wanting to jump in but if you did you just know your timing would be off?  Recently, I've been on the edge of several Advent conversations.  Several of my acquaintances who haven't grown up in an Anglo-catholic or Roman-catholic community have recently discovered Advent and wished that their church did more to mark the season.  "Yes, yes!" I want to excitedly say I have always loved the season of Advent.  It's one of the best gifts the Church has given us.  In the hustle and bustle of marketing that Christmas has become we have an excuse and the call to be a little bit quiet and a little bit still remembering that if we are Christians, we are on the road together to Bethlehem and each Sunday during the Advent season offers a lesson on helping us find our way.

As a cradle Episcopalian, I have always had the church calendar of seasons as a part of my life.  The church colors change beautifully throughout the year from green to to blue to green to purple to white to red and back to green.  It's like a big clock of colors marking the year.  Now, I confess that when I was little I didn't think about it much and nobody ever really pointed out the importance of the colors but I always knew what season it was -- be it Advent, Christmas, Lent or Easter.  In more recent years, and not without the help of having been a regular Sunday School teacher for a couple of decades, I'm even more aware of  it.  The curriculum we use at the Cathedral, Godly Play, really emphasizes the colors and the time line of the church so my little minions and I are attuned to the gift of color. The colors don't just make the church more decorative they also symbolize that which we want to learn and remember.  The colors really do surround us.

But let's be realistic, as nice as it is to be quiet and reflective for Advent there are still so many things that must be done:  Nutcracker performances, shopping, parties, decorating, cooking, Christmas card sending.  One year I decided that we would wait to put up our Christmas tree until closer to Christmas.  Last year we didn't send a Christmas card.  Another year we moved the week before Christmas which didn't have anything to do with trying to move during Advent but certainly required us to be well-oiled machines of efficiency and definitely delayed all Christmas decorating until the very last moment (ummm...let me NOT recommend moving over the holidays).  But each year, I'm trying to find something that I can give break company with to free myself up for a little more time to de-stress and enjoy the season.  This year, I'm enjoying (and sharing with the Writing Group) an Advent Poetry blog I found.  You might like it too.

Every year, I find myself experiencing Advent differently in spite of every Advent ending in the same event: Christmas.  The road is never quite the same and each year I come across different people and see something new on the side of the road to Bethlehem.  This year we began Advent by moving my mother-in-law to a nursing home for those with Alzheimer's and severe dementia.  She is in the latter category of severe dementia of which the onset was terribly sudden but seemingly lasting.   I miss her.  I miss our Sunday night dinner ritual where she always thinks that I'm the best cook in the world (who wouldn't miss someone who thinks that ESPECIALLY if it's your mother-in-law).  We have several friends, who too, are experiencing what are best called "tough times"  --  critically ill parents, a recurrence of a friend's cancer.  All of these things that remind us to take stock of what's important and where light is shining in our lives. 

So on that note, happy Advent.  Slow down and enjoy yourself.

Saint Myra

Obviously, it's the day before Thanksgiving.  Obviously, I'm counting my blessings.  Isn't that the standard course of things as Thanksgiving approaches?  I noticed alot of people have been posting on Facebook the things for which they are thankful on a regular basis.

I'm a regular thanks-giver though, so relegating it to just Thanksgiving seems a bit limited.  While I like to believe (although I'm not sure this is really true) that I don't have a lot of hard and fast life rules, I'm a firm believer in the half-full cup.  When I say firm believer, I mean it like exercise -- you have to really practice it to achieve optimal benefits.  Actually, it's one of the reasons I blog regularly and do my best to keep the tone upbeat.  It's not that life isn't always perfect but by golly, it's pretty darn good.  Sometimes, I even keep a list  of things I love.  My rule for the list is that it has to be specific things.  I can't write things like my husband or children* because that's too easy although I do have Jack Russell Terriers on the list which seems like cheating because how can you not love JRTs?  They're so cute and funny (I have one sitting on my lap right now as a matter of fact.  Did you know I read somewhere that Jack Russells aren't lap dogs?  HA.  hahahaha.  Clearly, that person didn't have a Jack Russell.  But I digress).  Mary Rollins has started doing this too.  It was a writing prompt -- write a list of 100 things you love -- and she will occasionally tell me something she added to the list.  We have both far exceeded the requisite one hundred.

Back to being thankful and living in gratitude.  I was thinking this morning in the quietness of my house that currently contains three sleeping thirteen year old boys how much I love my cleaning lady.  She came yesterday and did her magic.  Saint Myra, as I commonly refer to her, arrives every other week.  The night before her arrival is one of frantic straightening and I announce repeatedly to my children in a Touret's syndrome kind of litany, "Myra comes tomorrow," "The cleaning lady comes tomorrow," "Tomorrow's a Myra day" in the hopes that they (Will in particular) will straighten their rooms and bathrooms so that Myra's ministrations can have an even greater impact.  In their heads, I know what they are thinking, "Isn't it Myra's job to clean my room?"  But alas my darlings, Myra cleans and you must straighten so that Myra can do her job.  I was confused by that as a child myself in the brief periods that we had cleaning ladies. 

As difficult as the Monday night hurried, scurried decluttering for our Tuesday visit is, it's nice to put away the detritus that has gathered on the coffee table and counters over the last two week that no one has had the motivation to return to their rightful places.  And, it's lovely to come home to the slightly antiseptic Pine-sol smell that follows in her wake.  Saint Myra has a gift and I'm terribly grateful to her for she is far cheaper in the long run than marriage counseling, divorce or psychotherapy.   In addition to believing in the half-full cup, I also believe in the peace of a relatively clean home.  To note, I used to think that only boring, uncreative people had clean homes...

So on my ever-growing list of things I love, today I'm grateful for Saint Myra.  And, grateful for our very comfortable home at which we plan to stay, just our little family, on Thanksgiving day.



*it is perfectly acceptable to put children/husband-related things that they do you especially like.  For example, I love that Marc does my taxes...

When Zombies attack...

It's not often that I get to write about zombies in my blog but I marked a new milestone in my life last week: my very first zombie movie.  Technically, I watched my very first zombie TV show -- The Walking Dead -- but at the time I didn't realize it wasn't a movie.  Growing up, my big brother Morgan had a brief but exciting fascination with the Dawn of the Dead movie series that involved midnight watchings at Crossroads and the Kentucky Theater followed by frightening and dangerous tales of post-movie explorations while walking home and running into actual zombies.  Being a girl and younger, I was never allowed to go to midnight movies and so missed the opportunity to watch zombie movies.  His wild stories lent a glamorous hint to the zombie movie genre but never so glamorous that I felt compelled to watch one on my own. 

Last Saturday Will and Graff (who was staying over for the weekend) camped on the couch watching Netflix while Mary Rollins was at Nutcracker rehearsal.  I had some laundry to fold and suggested we watch some Doc Martin while I did it.  The boys looked at me like I was a zombie (Will did anyway, Graff was a bit more polite) and so I found myself watching my first zombie movie (okay TV series).  I had so many questions!  How do you get to be a zombie?  Is a zombie the same thing as an inferi (from Will, "Mom, do you really have to turn everything into a Harry Potter reference?")? How come not all dead bodies turn into zombies? If a zombie is already dead, are you really killing it? 

It was so exciting.  And, kind of gross but like a train wreck, I couldn't look away.  I had even more questions I wanted answered.  Like, why do all zombies drag one leg behind them?  Can't you just out run a zombie when they have that limp?

Graff and I took a break somewhere doing the second episode to go pick Mary Rollins up from rehearsal.  Not surprisingly, she wasn't interested in watching zombie movies when she got home.  She took a shower.  We watched more zombies while she did.

The best part of zombie watching has to be the conversation that surrounds it.  Will told me that in a zombie attack, I'd be the family member that he'd chose to have with him because I'm the most resourceful.  Needless to say I was flattered.  Mary Rollins would be the first to be eaten (to which she agreed) and he thought his dad would be pretty useless, too.  In addition, in the case of a zombie attack, Will said the Reverend Janey (aka Graff's mom) would bring him great comfort.  We all agreed, she's just the kind of a person you'd want on your side when zombies roam. 

Zombies are a great metaphor for life, too.  For example, once something is dead -- like a relationship -- can you really re-animate it? 

On Sunday, I got four tickets to Young Frankenstein at the Opera House..  I couldn't help but think it was more than a small coincidence that Saturday's TV zombie fest was going to be followed by Broadway's tribute to the zombie!  Is there something about zombies to which I need to pay attention?  See above reference to zombies as metaphors.

Regardless of the deeper meaning of zombie-ism, I had no idea what I'd been missing.  Zombies are fun!  Perhaps zombies could even be the new vampire.  Well...then again, maybe not.  None of the zombies looked like Cedric Diggory. 

Over the last week, Will and I watched a few more episodes without Graff from the first season of The Walking Dead.  We have one left.  I missed some important parts of the plot by virtue of having to leave the room to cook dinner and while Will tried to catch me up, I'm hoping that maybe Graff will come back and watch the episodes with me again (he doesn't have Netflix).  One thing's for sure, I won't be watching any zombie movies or TV shows by myself.  Or, after dark.  If I learned anything from my zombie weekend, it's that zombies, like most things, are much more terrifying when the sun goes down. 

Even if I could outrun one...

The scary stuff is over...

Thank goodness you're never too old to carve pumpkins

Finally...Halloween photos on the blog...
My sole goal for the afternoon of November 2 was to put away our Halloween decorations, however, it was raining and I didn't want a wet skeleton in the house. Instead, I spent a few minutes looking over all the goofy pictures we'd taken over the last few days.and then suddenly it was time to hop in the car and start driving people places. So, sadly these photos never found their way to the blog until mid-November.  You still want to see them though, right?








I thought I'd just skip posting about them but I liked them so much, I just had to finish it out.

Katie considered carving a pumpkin but then
decided unscrewing Will's head worked
just as well...

Pumpkin Mania on the Steps of Old Morrison

Christina's owl

MR's Mummy Cat

There has been some debate over
whether or not Christina has created a
self-pumpkin.  I say "yes."  What do you say?

March Madness Performance just before Lexington's 10th annual Thriller Parade

Art Car -- seen on the way home from the Thriller parade (this thing was amazing).  I talked to the driver
at a stoplight.  She was driving home to eastern Kentucky from a parade in Ohio.
She says she "won't spend any money ever in the unconstitutional republic of
Lexington because of the smoking ban inside public places."  Personally,
I really like our smoking ban...





Will's photo here really is the end of Halloween.
He didn't trick or treat instead he went "Candy Jacking"
whereby you just go to the houses with baskets
of candy left out and take some handfuls.  He claims he left
some for other people...

"Do not take my picture..."



This picture just makes me laugh and laugh.  MR
Christina were going to be Elpheba and Galinda
from Wicked for ballet class on Halloween night.
But Kroger was out of green face paint, so they both stood at
their closets ( I only saw MR do this) and talked through what
they could be.  The result:  Black Swan and White Swan. I'm going to save this picture for ever next to their Bellatrix and Hermione
impersonations.  Even now, two weeks later, I cannot stop laughing at it.  Everyone should have a best friend who is their alter-ego...(to note: Christina is really not at all like Bellatrix or the Black Swan but she sure captures the look!)

And this picture.  It was a prompt for The Cathedral Writing group last week. 
Go ahead, you write your own caption for it.

Theodora: Actress, Empress, Whore

Here at At Home in the Bluegrass, I like reading books. Lots of books. And sometimes, I like to let you know about books I’ve read!


I had the good fortune recently to have a new historical novel land in my lap -- Theodora: Actress, Empress, Whore by Stella Duffy. I have to confess I have a secret love of historical novels, especially those about women whose stories are merely outlines in recorded history and of whom we know little. Theodora of Constantinople (did you just say "who?") was the wife of Justinian I, 6th century Emperor of the Byzantine Empire. Quick synopsis: Theodora rose from being a young child actress/prostitute of the Hippodrome to marry the Roman Consul Justinian who a few years later become Emperor, she the Empress and one of the most important and influential women of the Roman Empire -- a real life rags to riches story but one so infinitely colored by politics, sexuality, religious discord, and clever marketing you might think you were in the midst of a medieval reality show.

I knew only a little about Theodora and 6th century Byzantine history before I read Stella Duffy’s new novel. What I did know came from a scattered remembrance of the Byzantine Empire acquired during a few history and religious studies courses. Having that knowledge was helpful although I still found myself looking up various terms. Even without a complete understanding of the historical backdrop, the story of Theodora is riveting. Fleshed out by the author from a framework of conflicting sources written in Theodora’s own lifetime, her life’s detail portrays a controversial woman ahead of her time – an early feminist? A woman concerned with the welfare of women and children? A religious convert? A consummate actress? In spite of having rights severely limited by law, Theodora was able to make many of her own choices and appears to have had far greater control over her destiny than women for centuries to come. She was both respected and revered, and like most powerful women of history -- accused of scandal, witchcraft and heresy. Theodora’s story, which would be factually scandalous in any era, is perhaps even more intriguing in context of the timeless questions it raises about politics, power and religion.

I have heard that Theodora is soon to be an HBO series. I suspect it will have all the pageantry, passion and style as the Tudors!


And, just so you know, I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but the opinions expressed here are completely my own!  Always are, always will be...

Whoohoo! Go Pioneers

It's a big night tonight in Lexington!
 
Transylvania University is playing the University of Kentucky in basketball.  The Battle on Broadway, it's being called as these two hometown teams face each other. 

Important Facts:  Transylvania has played UK before.  In fact, the record is tied between the two schools, 7-7. 

This is the first game in 100 years. 

Are the Mathews going to be there?  You betcha! Although poor Marc had to go to New Orleans for a conference.  He was really bummed but he's working through his grief by hosting a "watch" party at a bar down there.  I'm taking my dad and both of the kids are taking friends. I suspect that Transy will have more fans in Rupp Arena than any other visiting team has ever had playing UK!

I'm so excited right now, I just went home and put on my Transy T-shirt in the middle of writing this blogpost!

Go Pioneers!!!

xoxoxo--Gwen, Transy Class of '88

Skipping school...

I'm not saying that the Mathews' children are truant regularly, but there have been occasions when I let my children be "home schooled" for the day.  Sometimes, the opportunity to do something special, like taking a trip to Cincinnati or Charleston or going hiking in the Red River Gorge will be more meaningful than what they might have done at school.  Every now and then, you just have to be a rebel.  We always make certain it's not a day when there's a test or something really important happening.  And usually, I make them write a paper about what they learned that day. 

Mary Rollins is reading "Knit your own Dog." 
I know you'll want to comment on that.

Mary Rollins had one of those days last Friday.   She'd had a lot of late night rehearsals for Firebird and was signed out of school for a school show performance anyway.  After her morning show at the Lyric Theater, instead of going back to school for the last few hours of the day, we decided to relax with lunch downtown at Doodles, some Third Street shopping, and a stop at Calypso and Black Market.  

We also found our way to the new Chevy Chase location of The Morris Book Shop.  As we perused the aisles and drooled over books like "Knit Your Own Dog," contemporary literature and Kentucky poets, it suddenly occured to us that Williamson girls really are geeks. 

What did you do when you skipped school on Friday afternoon?  We went to the bookstore... 

My backyard...an update

I swear this is true.  We have a Squunk.  That's right, a squirrel with a skunk tail.  And no, I don't have a picture of it yet but Will, Marc and I have all seen it.  It's a mutant squirrel with an extra bonus add-on white skunk tail.  Will told me about it and I sort of paid attention but didn't realize the incredible awesomeness of what he was talking about until I saw it myself on Saturday night.  We were having Marc's 96-year old mother over for dinner when it caught my eye through the window.  I was trying to explain its presence to Grandma but since she won't wear hearing aids all she got was that we had a squirrel in the backyard. 

She just smiled and said, "Oh, I used to have squirrels sometimes, do you have a lot of squirrels?"

"NO GRANDMA THIS IS NOT JUST ANY SQUIRREL.  IT HAS A SKUNK TAIL!!!"

"Oh, that's nice..."

She smiled some more.  We gave up.  I think she thinks we might be kind of squirrelly ourselves.

I love my backyard!

Speedy News of the Day

Sassy came in 4th place which is, in fact, "in the money".  Pretty exciting as she was coming off of a lovely summer vacation so in all, a terrific showing.  Connie thinks she'll be running again at Keeneland before the meet is over.

And in other racing news, my friend and old neighbor Lisbeth Kenyon won her 3rd consecutive world championship Iron Man title in Hawaii last Saturday.  There's so much I could write about this but I just sit in awe of her.   She's an amazing athlete plus she's a wonderful person and a great mom.  Her marathon time (after having just swum 2.4 miles and biked 112 miles) is still faster than my 5K time.  Okay, now that I say that, I'm wondering if she's actually human!

So, who wants to go running with me? The Iron Horse Half Marathon in Midway is next weekend -- let's do it!

Sassy's Dream....

Doesn't she look fast?  And pretty?

Sassy's Dream, our dear friends' partnership horse is running on Sunday at Keeneland.

So far in 2011 she's had eight starts and finished in the money four times.  She's got one of the best trainers and a great jockey.

Plus, she's super pretty and it'll make C & K really really happy if she wins as it helps pay for her oats and hay.

Speaking of hay, I was driving Will and his buddy Sam out to golf last week.  We were headed out a beautiful country road in Jessamine County when we saw some big round hay bales grouped together on the side of the road.  Sam says, "don't hit those big barrels over there Mrs. Mathews!" to which Will responds, "those aren't barrels Sam, they're big balls of yarn." 

I think I need to get these boys out in the country a little more. 

Pizza!

A Mathews Pizza -- there's that basil again!

 When I was little my mom used to pronounce pizza just like it's spelled with a short "i" and two "z"s.  It drove my brother Charles crazy.  We usually only had pizza on Sunday nights and it was the bad Totino's frozen kind which I'm pretty sure was the ONLY kind back in the seventies.  The pepperoni was cut into teeny-tiny little cubes and the crust could easily be confused with the box the pizza came in.  We loved it and thought it was delicious.  Usually, my brother Morgan and I ate our scrumptious frozen pizza in the dining room while watching The Wonderful World of Disney on a small black and white TV while my parents ate in the kitchen watching 60 minutes.  Back in those long ago days before Netflix or cable and any television reception came thanks to the wonders of the very large antenna on our roof, Sunday was the only night that we didn't all eat sitting together at the long kitchen bar with the nightly news on in the background.  Sunday nights were fun.

I still love pizza.  It's probably my desert island food but I am a little more particular about the pizza that I eat.  Well particular in that I like qualifying pizza as either "good" pizza or "bad" pizza.  I'll still eat "bad" pizza though if it's available.

I have a lot of favorite pizzas.  Pizzas are like friends.  I have lots of friends, they're all different and I love them all for different reasons.  If I had to choose a BPF (that's Best Pizza Forever is you couldn't figure it out), I'd probably pick Joe Bologna's.  We've been going to Joe B's my whole life -- decades before they moved to the old synagogue on Maxwell.  In fact, my brothers took me to Joe B's for pizza before I had my wisdom teeth taken out in 9th grade.  It was really sweet of them -- kind of a last supper. 

I also love Andolini's in Mt. Pleasant, SC.  I don't know that it's actually the pizza that I like so much there or if it's just how fun it is to go there without fail after the Cooper River Bridge Run every year to eat pizza and drink pitcher beer with abandon -- something I never do in my real life! 

Mary Rollins, of course, loves Goodfellas downtown.  It's part of her "urban artsy girl" style.  She and the ballet girls adore the whole idea of downtown life and pizza by the slice.  

I think Marc likes Miguel's in the Gorge the best.   Sometimes I question if he only likes to go hiking because hiking always includes lunch at Miguel's.  You can get anything on your Miguel's pizza.  Seriously, think of something, I bet they have it as a topping.

Lately, we've been having pizza at home more.  And no, not the Totino's frozen kind.  We've been making our own pizza.  I'll buy the Pillsbury refrigerated thin crust pizza dough and dress it up with whatever we've got on hand.  I rarely use a tomato sauce base (learned that at Miguel's) as typically I have leftover homemade Alfredo sauce, or ranch dressing, or pesto in on hand that I top with lots of veggies -- onions, fresh peppers, roasted peppers from the jar,  Kalmata olives, sundried tomatoes, a sprinkle of garlic and bacon or Italian sausage (I seem to always have Italian sausage links in my refrigerator, does everyone?).  fresh basil and now I throw on pine nuts, too, because what doesn't taste better with pine nuts?!  Will, who likes Little Caesar's Pizza (probably the only pizza I really dislike--bad, very bad) requires that one corner of the pizza be left veggie-free.  Actually, Will prefers his whole dinner plate to be veggie-free.  Then our masterpiece is topped off with lots and lots of CHEESE!  I hear we have a reputation for being a cheese loving people at the Mathews' house.

Maybe the best part of pizza (along with the cheese) is that I never seem to eat it alone.  It's such a celebratory food and food always seems to taste better when shared with someone else. 

What's your favorite pizza?

How the Hounds of Hell got a blessing...

Could you hear them barking on Saturday? This is the true story of how Cleo and Howie made a spectacle of themselves at Christ Church Cathedral's annual Blessing of the Animals for St. Francis Day.


I know that you probably think I'm exaggerating. I'm not.

It was slightly overcast this past Saturday morning in Lexington. Everyone at the Mathews house had something important to do -- MR to ballet, Marc for a haircut and and an errand with his mom, Will sleeping in, and me? I decided
those darn dogs needed a blessing. It's been a while for Howie and frankly, I've never taken Cleo to celebrate St. Francis Day. I typically regret taking them both anywhere at the same time because they're so horrible.  It's all that
Terrier-osterone or maybe they're allergic to other dogs.

Mary Rollins helped me leash up the dogs and I dropped her downtown at ballet and went round the block to park at the church. The dogs were so excited (you can tell because my passenger window has all kinds of nose prints on it). We parked, got out of the car, and from there things went downhill. I had about 30 minutes before the service started which was taking place at the farmer's market at the old courthouse steps. From here, I'll turn the story over to Cleo for a moment:


Cleo: "We saw some other dogs, did some barking, did some more barking, Hey, look at us! We're dogs. Let's wrap the leash around mom's legs and see if we can trip her. Hey, she just tied the leashes in a knot, now we can't get away from each other! Hey, let's cross the street here. This is exciting. This is SO exciting. Look another dog! Bark Bark Bark Bark. Hey, why is mom taking us around the block again? Bark Bark Bark bark bark bark.

Back to Gwen:

Yes, the Mathews' dogs were even more horrible than I could have imagined.  People stared.  Children pointed.  People laughed.  Dogs stared.  Dogs barked at them.  People shook their heads.  The service was lovely.  There were acolytes with beautiful banners and our girl choristers singing a hymn which was probably beautiful but I couldn't really hear it over the barking.  The Reverend Janey said lovely prayers of thanksgiving for all of God's creation and creatures.  She read very loudly so that she could be heard over the barking of Cleo and Howie who, too, are God's creatures and were probably just trying to say "Amen".  Janey, always the kind-hearted optimist, suggested that perhaps they were just confused about why she was on the steps and not down there with them.   She said they were calling to her and claims she was glad to know it was Cleo and Howie making all the ruckus.



That's Elizabeth -- she works at the Vet's office.  Her dog was very nicely behaved.

 

Here's Howie meeting the Garner's dog.  About two minutes after this picture, the Garner dog tried to bite Howie.  I'm pretty sure it was something Howie said.  It wouldn't be the first time that Howie's inflamed the anger of a yellow lab.

Here's Mother Janey with some of my Sunday School children blessing their cat.  I'm sure the cat was really excited.  Most of the cats looked really happy about being there.

And then there was Lilly the chicken.  Cleo and Howie weren't too interested in Lilly.  They were, however, VERY interested in Cadbury the bunny. 

Cleo, post-blessing was lovely.  I was holding her while Janey blessed her and she seemed to really understand what was happening.  She was also eyeing the basin with holy water thinking that she was really thirsty from all the barking.   Howie, also got his blessing and then made friends with a 19-year old Fox Terrier. 

Like little children after a big day, I had two pooped puppies on the car ride home.  They even curled up together for a few minutes.  Of course, they weren't good enough for me to get a decent picture of that.

So, how do I know I had the worst dogs there?  Even in church yesterday, people were talking about them.  People who didn't even know that they were my dogs were talking about the two Jack Russell Terriers.  Yep, those were our dogs.  I think most people thought they could have used an exorcism more than a blessing.  But, at least it made other people feel good about how well-behaved their own pets were.  (I think there's a corollary to parenting here).

It was a wonderful morning full of community, joy, laughter and barking. And, funny thing, as bad as the dogs were, I found myself thinking about what wonderful little dogs they were.  Even though Sunday's sermon featured a key lesson from the Gospel of Bob, a big black Lab with a more laid back approach to life than my little terriers, I'm confident that there's something spiritual to be learned from the persistent, tenacious, exuberant and joyful way in which Terriers conduct themselves, too.  But, maybe they don't need to make quite so much noise about it when out in public.

What's a short sale?

Warning:  The following post is actually real estate related (gasp):

Because sometimes people actually expect me to blog about real estate I thought I would take a moment to answer one of the questions that nearly every home buyer (and person thinking of being a home buyer) asks.  No, not the question, "how's the market?"  which is the questions EVERYBODY asks whether they are a buyer or not, but...What's a short sale?  Usually, buyers ask this question after about 30 minutes of being in the market for a home when they inevitably come across an advertisement that says "possible short-sale" or "short sale -- may require lender approval."  So in answer to that burning question...

A short sale basically means that the seller of a home is in a position that they have to sell their house but they cannot sell the home for what they owe on the mortgage (sometimes people call this underwater on their mortgage). Either they've refinanced during the times when lenders were doing questionable loan practices or the home has lost value since they purchased it.  After the loan pay-off and and any selling costs are factored in, the owner does not have the funds to pay off the mortgage. In lieu of a foreclosure, a the mortgage holder will agree to a short sale and the lender eats the difference between the mortgage amount and the actual proceeds from the sale. In a short sale, both the seller and the lender have to agree to a sales contract. Because the lender is involved in negotiating the sale (i.e. they have to agree to take the loss), the sale typically takes longer than a normal human-seller agreeing to sell a home.  Often there are committees that have to meet, financial data that the seller has to provide to the lender, approvals from various agencies, et cetera -- all things that require lots of time and lots of red tape.

The real pluses to a short sale are that you often get a home below market value and it's generally, but not always, in better condition than a foreclosure home as the seller has some motivation for keeping the house in shape.

The down-sides of a short sale are that:

• it takes longer to buy
•  it's generally a sale is as-is because the seller doesn't have the money to repair anything
• the home may not be in the very best condition because the seller is probably having a cash-flow problem which led to the short sale in the first place,
• a number of factors can cause a sale to fall-through.  For example, the home may start as a short sale but the lender can change their minds half-way through and decide to foreclose on the owner. 

My general advice with a short sale is to try not to get emotional and fall madly in love with a short-sale property. Sometimes that's hard. Almost every client I've ever had who purchased a short sale has said afterward that it was a lot harder than they thought it was going to be when we went into the transaction. Some say they would do it again but others said they wouldn't. They just require a good attitude, some flexibility in the closing schedule (know what the lock-in period is for your mortgage rate and choose a longer lock-in period rather than shorter), and flexibility on when you actually want to take possession of the home. A typical thing to keep in mind is that if you have to be out of your current residence on x-day and were expecting to move into your new home the same day, have a back-up plan.

Some real estate agents don't want to deal with short sales at all and I'll admit that it's not my favorite kind of house to sell.  Last May I had clients who made an offer on a short sale (actually one of the nastiest houses I'd ever been in but they were really attracted to the price and the opportunity to fix it up) and it's now almost October and we're still waiting on a response from the seller.

So there you have it, everything you really wanted to know about a short sale, right?  If you are looking for more information, ask away!  Also, if you want a testimonial about the experience, one of my sweet clients volunteered that she would talk to anyone who wants to know what buying a short sale is really like.
She has a really good story that involves a two month period of homelessness* with a husband, a toddler,  a new-born baby and two very cute dogs.  I think she'd probably tell that story in a way that would bring tears to your eyes. 

*they weren't actually "homeless" but they did live in a very very small house with hardly any furniture for almost two months.

A thought for the day

Some people have nice things.

Some people have dogs and children.

Shoes Glorious Shoes...

I like my house.  There's not much it lacks.  Sure, it could be fancier and I'd love a new kitchen with a big gas range and double ovens and a french door refrigerator with granite counters and gorgeous alder cabinets (not that I've been thinking about that or anything) but for the most part, even when I come home from showing really upscale high-end houses, I don't like mine any less.  Kind of like watching Darren Criss in Glee but still liking my husband even though he can't sing...

But what I always envy...ALWAYS ENVY...are people's mudrooms when you come in from their garages. Some lucky people have this sweet transition space lined with beadboard lockers for all of their children's stuff and shoes. That's what I really covet. I usually figure that a mom had some input on that floor plan.


What happens in my house is that nearly every Mathews (and friend of Will's) who walks in my house leaves their shoes, backpack, jacket, shirt they wore to cotillion in the middle of the kitchen.  Most of it lands somewhere on or around the desk and chair in the kitchen but sometimes, as demonstrated in the picture below, they can also be left darn smack in the middle of the kitchen floor by the refrigerator door where you fall over them, repeatedly.   The day I took these pictures there were 7 pairs of boy shoes within 18 inches of the desk.  There's a pair around to the right, plus there was another pair by the front door.

Marc tried to tell me that one day I'm going to miss those shoes but I'm pretty sure I'm only going to miss the people to whom those shoes belong.





Those white shoes belong to Will's best friend who has really big feet,
like a labrador retriever puppy that he still needs to grow into. And speaking of puppies,
Cleo says "hello". 




Let's see I have here, Marc's shoes, Will's dirty cleats (better left
here than worn upstairs I suppose), Will's new Clarks, someone's Rainbows,
Will's backpack, and at least two more pair of shoes out of the line
of the picture. 



Summer's farewell...

First day of fall yesterday.  I couldn't quite say good-bye to summer though.  The grocery still has lots of peaches that are remarkably delicious in spite of a hard as a baseball feel and my bumper crop of basil is begging to be used!  What's a cook to do but pretend it's still summer.

If YOU still have good peaches and fresh basil (bet you do or want some of mine), give this recipe a whirl.  It's a favorite that originally came from Real Simple but The Reverend Janey turned me on to it.


4 - 3/4 inch cut pork chops (I cut my own*  The original recipe called for bone-in but I've never been particularly good at following directions. Or recipes)
2 tbs Olive Oil
2 fresh peaches cut in wedges
1 small red onion cut in wedges.
3 tbs white wine vinegar
salt and pepper
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves (I have plenty if you need some).

Preheat over to 400 degrees.

Heat oil in large oven-safe skillet.  Pepper (and salt, if desired) porchops.  Add to pan and cook on both sides for 3-5 minutes until browned on each side.  Transfer chops to plate and set aside.  Add peaches and onion to skillet with 3 tablespoons of vinegar and a bit more pepper.  Toss for about 1 minute over heat.  return the pork chops and any juices to the skillet.  Pop the skillet in the oven and roast until the porkchops are cooked through and the peaches are tender -- about ten minutes.  
 
Sprinkle everything with basil leaves and serve either on couscous or rice.  I prefer couscous (quicker to cook and yummy).



*tip for the day: big whole pork loins are often on sale.  I learned long ago to buy them on sale and cut them into normal family-sized portions (cut in half for the four Mathewsies) and freeze the portions in ziplock bags. I move them to the refrigerator the night before I'm going to use them.  You can do great pork roasts and carnitas with them in a crockpot, too.  I used to go ahead and cut them into chops and chunks before freezing but I find they're a lot easier to cut into whatever shape I want for a meal when they are still partially frozen.

A yummy day...

Masala (not my picture...just thought
you should know).

Sometimes I think I just have the best job ever -- even when I don't sell a house.   Last Friday, I had a typically atypical day being a Realtor.  That's one of the perks of working in real estate, you rarely have the same day twice. She was in Lexington interviewing for a position and I was asked to give her a tour of town and show her some housing options. We had spoken on the phone on Tuesday and made our plans to meet. She really wanted to just rent and honestly there's not much I can do as a Realtor for people who want to rent. Lexington is different from other cities as far renting something happens. I wasn't overly optimistic about how our day would go but I figured I'd do the very best I could for her!


Padma turned out to be lovely, smiling extrovert! She talked immediately about her job interview while we drove off to one of the schools she wanted to visit and a nearby apartment complex.

And that was it. We found the perfect apartment if she takes the job.

Then, we went to lunch! We went to Masala, one of Lexington's best Indian buffets. I felt a little odd taking the Indian woman to the Indian restaurant. I hope it wasn't inappropriate but we had smelled Masala from the apartment complex, she said she was open to anything for lunch, we were running out of time and Masala does have a buffet!

Delicious! That's what lunch was. Padma thought lunch was great too. She struck up a big conversation with the owner which was all in Indian but I'm sure she was telling her what a great Realtor I am. (Then, he brought her some cute little green peppers that probably would have burned a hole in my tongue.) Actually, he told her that we were good luck as the health department was inspecting them right then and the inspector thought we were very happy patrons. Which, of course, we were because lunch was so delicious. I was even happier because Padma thought our little Indian place was really good. I'm so proud.

Over two huge plates of food, we talked a lot about parenting, the importance of family dinner time, exercising, our mothers and then she treated me to lunch which was so very nice!

I'd say the odds are good that Padma won't be moving to Lexington so subsequently she probably won't be buying a house with me. While those three hours might not be profitable in an immediate financial sense, they were sure fun! I'm delighted to have spent an afternoon with her and have the good fortune that I get to call it work!

Hunter Boots - the new Mom appliance

Oh but I loved the comments from my last post about coffee!  I love hearing what the nice nieces are doing (real nieces and faux nieces as well as sisters :-)).  This blog is awfully girly most of the time, isn't it?  Sorry male readers.  Are there any male readers?  Speak up and we can be more boy-ish sometimes!

Anyway, in the spirit of girly-ness, I just wanted to share that I took the plunge and ordered my boots as an early Christmas present!  My logic:  I stood out at Will's lacrosse scrimmage yesterday for 2+ hours. The weather was glorious as it was on Sunday afternoon at Will's baseball game.  But, imagine if it hadn't been!  I would have been so much happier in my waterproof Hunter Boots.  They're a mom-investment. Plus, showing property? They'll be swell and I'll feel like a New Yorker!  We're getting to the fall and winter season -- dry feet are happy feet! 

Like a minivan, Hunter boots may be the perfect Mom/Realtor appliance.  Have I ever pointed out that my van is white to match my washer and dryer?  I ended up getting the black boots because it will match my range & dishwasher.  

Maybe they should make stainless steel colored boots or perhaps Aubergine appliances. 

Coffee, anyone?

I know it’s not Monday but it feels like it. Maybe it’s the rain and the early autumn chill in the air that I hope shall pass. Plus, I’ve been longing for New York lately. Again, is it the Fall change of seasons and not knowing what to wear post-Labor Day? Can I still wear my white jeans if I pair them with something from the orange/brown family? Is it too early to wear boots? I’m sure there’s something at H & M, Uniqlo or that lovely Anthropologie at Rockefeller Center that would ease my morning suffering as I stare into my closet at a total loss for what to wear in an unseasonably cool early September.


To counteract my Thursday-feels like-Monday-pining-for-New York-morning doldrums, I decided that I needed a coffee treat so I stopped in downstairs at Starbucks before heading upstairs to the office.. Don’t spread this around but I’ve been at Starbucks more than usual lately (perhaps the influence of Isabug’s morning coffee blogposts). But enjoying Starbucks is part of my effort to take advantage of my prime office location and to feel better about the suffering my back bumper is experiencing at the mercy of the worst parking lot in town. Obviously, horrible parking is the price one pays for cool working space. Anyway, I did get my favorite parking space both yesterday and today. It’s the end space where your car can only get hit on one side. Then, I decided to try something new (and cheaper), I cautiously ordered a Caffee Misto surprising the barista by asking what one was! He was really excited to tell me about it. I guess no one asks for help ordering at Starbucks anymore. It’s only $2.10 for a tall Caffee Misto versus $3.70-something for my usual latte (except that I usually get a grande which is even more expensive). It isn’t quite the taste treat of a Cinnamon Dolce latte or pumpkin spice (which is back! Yeah!) but it’s pretty darn good, plus if I get a cheaper coffee treat I can have them more often, right?

Oh, and why else am I missing New York? Did I mention that I am listening for the umpteenth time to Seth Rudetsky’s Broadway Nights? I finally finished listening to Jon Krakauer’s Under the Banner of Heaven and needed a little literary candy after that. Good suggestion from the nieces that I would definitely need some post-religious fundamentalism palate cleansing. I tried starting Ann Patchett’s new book State of Wonder and as much as I love her writing, the nieces were right --after Under the Banner of Heaven you really need some fun!

So what’s new with you? Anybody want to get a coffee with me later?

Milestones...

Vanderbilt gets the prize for being the first
college to recruit Mary Rollins...
!

Parenting continually presents an array of milestones that when they occur make you realize that a particular moment is an important first in the forward movement of your child's life.  There are the obvious things, of course, like a first smile, a first step, a first haircut and first days of school.

And then, there's the complete curve balls like the first college brochure that arrives in the mail.  Eeek!!! 

I mean I knew she'd go to college one day but dang, I feel old...

Also seen in my backyard...

As previously posted, I've been spending way more time than usual in my backyard.  There's been a lot going on back there with the flora and the fauna.  There's my bumper crop of poison ivy, the frog who seems happy to have new fishy friends, a really big, really brave bunny rabbit who has been coming to graze in the middle of the back yard every afternoon and my lovely hummingbird, Snitch.  I've spent a lot of time staring out the kitchen window into the backyard at my hummingbird feeder lately. 

For most of August, my hummingbird feeder has only had the one customer.  An adorable, miniscule ruby-throated hummie who calmly sits on the feeder and greedily slurps away.  Then, last week all hummingbird hell broke loose and we had a turf war at the feeder.  Snitch zoomed in and chased away an itinerant hummingbird that had discovered my feeder.  It was very dramatic and buzzy -- like Snoopy and the Red Baron!  The new hummingbird must really like my recipe for food though because he won't be deterred by the angry Snitch.  He keeps sneaking back and hovers over the nectar holes with one eye on eating and one eye looking out for Snitch.  I can tell he's really nervous because he won't sit and eat.  

Yep, it's exciting times at my house.  I should probably get back to work...

Full Circle

You know your life has come full circle when you lose your parents at the grocery store AND your parents bicker at the grocery like you and your brothers used to do.

I've heard that grandchildren are a parent's revenge but I'm pretty certain the parents themselves are the parent's revenge. 

The Arabesque...

Planking may be hot these days but not with MR.  She believes in the Arabesque.  And, the Arabesque challenge continues...

And I quote, "Mom, you take bad pictures." 
Right, because I'm sure it wasn't your arabesquing skills...

The Honeysuckle Wars

We're having a cocktail party Saturday night.  And, in honor of the people coming to my house for what I hope will be a moderately elegant affair (where undoubtedly everyone will stand around in my kitchen as usual), I decided that I needed to face the jungle which is my backyard.  Marc and I sort of have this unspoken pact -- he mows the lawn and edges while responsibility/blame for the state of the flower beds, herb garden, pond, et cetera falls to me.  I've decided he definitely gets the better end of the deal.  I mean all he has to do is go out and push the mower around.  It involves absolutely no thought whatsoever.  He walks blithely around with not a thought in his head about whether or not he's doing it the "right" way.  When the mower cooperates, the grass obligingly submits to his ministrations and voila! he achieves perfection.  His only challenge is that sometimes the mower doesn't work.  We have two mowers now but that's a different story.

I, on the other hand, am waging a war with crabgrass, honeysuckle (of multiple varieties), Virginia creeper, volunteer saplings, thistles, sapling trees and poison ivy.  It seems that every flower bed I have is infested with a different species of invasive plant.  In some places the "good" things have even turned bad...the sweet lamb's ear and variegated leaf ground cover have taken over the pebble walkway to the composters and raised beds at the side of the house.  And someone must be giving the trumpet vine growing outside my bedroom window steroids.  It was looking lovely and then I return from Alaska and I can't walk through the arbor it's growing on.  And, even my little fish pond has a bad case of string algae.

Anyone care to kiss him to see if he's a prince?



Swimmy, Zipper and Max named in tribute to former Mathews family pets (Zipper and Max were both gerbils that Howie killed during his verminating reign of terror.  Here they are in the van on the car ride home.  I held them just like that and drove one-handed.  I did not text and drive while holding the fish.  Even at the stoplights.

 Speaking of the fish pond, sometimes known as the Pond of Doom in memory of the many fishy and amphibious souls that have met untimely deaths there (as well as one small rabbit and yesterday a bird -- seriously,  how does this happen!), it has some new inhabitants.  Three goldfish, the cheapest ones I could find at the pond store, were introduced to our heroic frog who was the pond's sole survivor of last year's dreadful winter. I'd like to say they successfully were introduced but I'm not sure I should use the word "successful."  I carefully transitioned them from the safety of the plastic bag to the pond.  Then, they promptly disappeared beneath the aforementioned string algae into the murky depths.  I'm taking it as a positive sign that I haven't seen them doing the dreaded backstroke.  The bird I found yesterday floating dead in the pond really puzzles me.  I suspect Jewel of playing some role in its demise.

Anyway, I have spent a multitude of hours out there in the last week.  I have discovered that there are still some verifiable herbs in my herb garden notably lavender and chives and I have almost defeated the crabgrass invasion -- one more rain and the ground will be soft enough for me to show it who's boss.  But then there's the poison ivy.  Guess which of us won that battle...scratch scratch. 

A little about Alaska...

I'm going to post some more pictures from Alaska later but I was just thinking tonight after looking at a few pictures from the trip that this is how I would sum it all up:

If you want to be warm, dry and clean, do NOT go to Alaska for vacation. However, if you don't mind being wet, chilly and a bit muddy, Alaska might be the most beautiful place in the world.  I love Alaska...

Mt. McKinley

Glacier Hiking - Kenai Fjords NP - Exit Glacier

Mendenhall Glacier, Juneau

Hiking in Denali