Nutty or Nice?

I am fighting the symptoms of Dunlop Disease - my stomach has dun lopped over my pants. In the true spirit of Christmas, I'm giving...giving myself a break and enjoying the muffin top for a few weeks.

Who needs to be more wound up than usual right now with all the purchasing, festivities, deadlines, and errands? I call it Stressmas. It seems that as soon as December hits, people pull nutters, the freak-out moments beyond their normal behavior. I was in a store looking for some holiday glitz, reached to grab a BCBG mini-dress with sequin accents, and was aggressively challenged for "try-on status" by a snooty fancy-pants lady. Nutter! I smacked her down and bought the dress which turned out to be fortuitous. There it is at my birthday dinner where I met my fav Top Chef Bryan Voltaggio at Volt. >>>>>>

The best way to beat the holiday nutties is to invite joy. We asked an elf to visit our home. The Elf on the Shelf is on the bestseller list and at $30 for a stuffed elf and a book, I thought, "give me a break." http://www.elfontheshelf.com/#/home However, our elf Ziggy is worth EVERY penny. Each night Ziggy hides in a new place and the kiddies wake up to discover if he is in a plant or riding on a reindeer. It is like the surprise of Christmas morning all month. I'm ready for Ziggy to do naughty things like put undies on the Christmas tree or TP someone's bedroom. The storybook says the elf can not be touched but you can talk to him, and Gigi is constantly telling Ziggy about her day. His job is to watch the behavior in the house and report back to Santa. While Ziggy is watching their behavior, I am also trying to watch mine so that I don't end up on the Nutty list.

P.S. By the way, I've never had so many birthday wishes (thank you!) and my 35th birthday was simply perfect - breakfast and cards with DD & G, Facial at Red Door, Sombrero lunch at Guapos with Deb, flowers from Dan my man, and the amazing dinner with Brooks & Pete.

Mother Pluckers

Sarah Josepha Hale in 1837 created a letter writing campaign that caught the attention of Abraham Lincoln who endorsed the idea of Thanksgiving in 1863. Do you think that way back then people had family fatigue? Imagine Uncle Henry to his brother Samuel, "Do we always have to hunt for the bird on your farm?" Sister Sarah to sister Mary, "I just wish mother wasn't so picky about how to pluck this damn turkey!"

No one can handle being around someone for more than a few days without feeling cooped up. The best way to overcome that woozy feeling you get when you spent too much quality time with relatives is to get out and do something. We went to a nature preserve where I learned that a Watusi is a type of cattle, not a dance from the 60's. We met a zebra who was rescued after being found in a car crash on an Atlanta highway. Sounds like a movie, huh?! Then, a turkey got all huffy with me while taking his picture and went on the attack! Those birds hate the paparazzi right now and we watusied out of there.

It is important to dance around family issues during these "special times." Wait until everyone is apart and you can talk behind each others back again. I'm just kidding but one sure way to end a party is to blurt out, "You always seem to be busy when I come to town." Rather, do what the best of the best Southerners do - put on a nice smile and be grateful for what you get. The people in the South are more gracious than anywhere else in the country. It must have something to do with the fact that they are super grateful that hoop skirts left with the fires of the civil war.

If you still feel hassled by the holiday, here's something that you can do to make a difference. Like Sarah Josepha Hale in 1837, let's start our own letter writing campaign to those mother pluckers who are telling people not to get mammograms. I live in DC and would love to personally hand-deliver a mini-van load of letters to The Senate HELP Committee. http://help.senate.gov/ Pass this note around to your friends and family. Write a letter and send an email to cyndy@goodjobproductions.com with the result to catch some attention.

P.S. I am thankful for my family! Here I come mom to help you prepare the feast. XOXOXO!

Making Whoopie

Enjoy your pumpkin pie while you can. Mother Nature is ruining pumpkin patches in the Midwest. Because of heavy rains, Nestle, which controls 85% of the pumpkin crop for canning, issued an apology for not shipping the holiday staple. They are chunkin' pumpkins to use as fertilizer for next year's harvest.

On a positive note, there is a whole new crop of nail polish colors, just in time to get lacquered up for the holidays. I am intrigued by the festively named, "It's Coal Outside" and the Rockettes "Legs Celebrate." There should be colors to represent Thanksgiving. How about Burnt Autumn Red, Plymouth Rock, May Flower, Going Native?

After your manicure, go out and get a can of pumpkin puree while supplies last. Be thankful that long ago the Native Americans gave Plymouth settlers these gourds that they thought tasted so nasty, they covered them with molasses. The first American recipe for our traditional style pie was published in 1796...American Cookery, by Amelia Simmons. If you are feeling racy and want to try something different, make whoopie, pumpkin pie style. Click on the arrow below to see Gigi workin' her kitchen skirt.

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies - click on arrow

If you want the recipe, let me know and I'll email it to you.

The Suburban Suck

That thing really sucks, I thought as we watched the leaf vacuum getting rid of Autumn's presents. Only in the burbs would you see those trucks. They are loud and I feel like I'm back in New York City at garbage pickup time.

Suburban sucky experiences also happen at the big chain stores. I've already covered Target (see blog entry "Get Your Head Examined). Costco is another one on the list and we have renamed it "Fiasco." One of our first outings after moving to this community was to join the club. We waited for an hour to get our membership card with crying, feisty children, and left to never return. Ok, ok, I get the advantages - the good prices, quantity of food, and carrot cake. But we don't have a freezer or the patience. At least we didn't get accused of shoplifting during self checkout, like a Chicago couple at the other giant mega-store, Walmart. They've been banned and they didn't do anything wrong! That would really suck. http://www.dailyfinance.com/2009/11/09/walmart-levies-lifetime-ban-against-gay-couple/2

There is a draw in the outskirts - the great schools, the backyards, the spacious houses. There's also the cardio dance class taught by Mommie Bootie Camp Queen, Kristine Oleson, that helps me channel my inner Britney. http://www.healthcoachllc.net/ The get-togethers for dinners and drinks shake up the routine. The Boovie Girls in the book/movie club are rockin'...we just saw Michael Jackson's This Is It. http://www.thisisit-movie.com/ But the most important aspect about living anywhere are your friends, whether they are city or suburban sirens who've sucked you in to amazing friendships. As MJ would say, "With love, L-O-V-E."

Daylight Stupid Time

Fall behind should be known as "Fall on Your Behind" because the time change causes a state of national jet lag. Even though no one I know was on a 16 hour flight to Asia, people are grogged out. Calls are not being returned. Bills are not being paid. Kids wake up an hour earlier than the clock indicates. Hell, I hear on the farms, even the roosters keep crowing when the sun comes up. Who and why do we play with the hands of time?

It's an idea that dates all the way back to Benjamin Franklin. Living in Paris in 1784, he wrote an essay suggesting that moving the hour of sunlight from the morning (when Parisians were sleeping anyway) to the evening could save thousands of candles. That energy saving idea was translated hundreds of years later during war time in order for the morning sun to light the factories. Congress eventually came on board, creating a standard time zone for the railroad industry and signed it into law in 1918. I always thought it was created for agriculturists who need the extra sunlight but evidently, the farmers still have to milk Rosebud at the same time each morning.

Daylight Stupid Time is about saving energy, especially during the summer months. We trim the entire country's electricity usage by one percent each day.* However, what we save during the dark months of Winter is negligible and the lack of light makes me SAD (that's seasonal affected disorder). I took the kids today for an H1N1 flu shot and noticed as we waited outside in the cold, it was dark by 5:00p.

The universal clock is out of whack. Traffic has been horrible in DC this week with ten minute car trips taking an hour. A friend of mine showed up for her parent/teacher conference but it is scheduled to take place a week later. I put the wrong date on an evite invitation to a December party. Imagine if people showed up on both days! I feel so out of sync, we're having breakfast for dinner tonight...I just don't have the ENERGY.

* http://www.webexhibits.org/daylightsaving/ DOT study

Pong

Isn't it weird when something from your past whizzes back into your life like a motorcade?! It stops you in your tracks and makes you take notice. The president came through Kensington this week, causing much ado with flags a flying and SUV's a trailing. Our fab Delegate Al Carr captured the moment. The traffic diversions gave me an opportunity to ponder my week.

Several random things transported me back in time, like Kate Gosselin. I wrote about her in my second blog post back in June titled, "Hair-Brained Honking." It poses the question, "Does short hair make you bitchy?" Little did I know that I would be this crazy character at a Halloween party. My friend Deborah knows that I love a wig and she gave me this spiked hairdude. Check out the tummy tuck scar. Dan was "Jon," complete with hair-plugs and Ed Hardy t-shirt. Notice the name tag, "I'm Jon. Want to date?" However, the better costumes were Amy Whinehouse and Balloon Boy.

Another party we hit time-traveled us back to college days. We sported Greek letters and headed for our friends Kristine and Nate's Frat Party. As one entered the "house," the hand was stamped, jello shots were offered, and you were ushered to the beer pong competition. Beer Pong...it was even on the nightly news this week about how it is very dangerous to play, considering all the germs with H1N1 and all. I didn't play it, Dan didn't play it, but he got something that reeks of the flu. Gigi has been fighting a 103 fever all week and our house has the lovely perfume of Lysol. Hence the reason why I am writing later than normal this week.

David Dean and I needed to speed away from the coughing cloud, and even though there's no pong, Chuckie Cheese seemed like it would provide some fun and games. It perplexed me that, for the second time within days, my hand was stamped. Gotta love the "kid check" system that ensures you leave with the child you brought in. David and I attacked that place like VIPs. There was a "teachable moment" when I showed David how to play pinball. Things got a little out of hand with the driving videos - I wondered when the Secret Service of that establishment was going to kick me out for yelling "get out of my way mo-fo" as I drove over pilings and crashed into the perpetrator my car was chasing. It's yet another example of why I will not ever drive in a governmental motorcade OR win Mom-of-the Year. I did, however, make sure we washed our hands when we left.

Stars Upon Thars

Something happens in a suburban town
That makes you freak out when the widgets and whatnots
Start to break down.

You're stuck in a whirlywig grind.
You get all crazy when a broken garbage disposal
Leaves you in a bind.

The hood has a frenetic hullabaloo.
With demands of children and errands to run,
Hours are too few.

A meeting with your self needs to be had.
The world has greater causes, issues, and missions
To make you glad.

Last Sunday, the issue was about equal rights.
My gay friends and I rallied on the steps of Capitol Hill
And fought the fights.

"That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars
And whether they had one, or not
Upon Thars."*

* The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss

Nice Rack

Wildlife is encroaching on suburban sprawl. Five raccoons attacked a woman in Florida this week. Bears are breaking and entering on a regular basis. Deer have taken over the Hamptons, bejeweled like fashionistas with ear tags and neck tracking devices. Recently, a brazen young buck tracked through our back yard, rubbed his antlers on our trees and ate most of my hostas. Dan said he had a nice rack and it made me think about how the phrase is used to describe a well-endowed woman.

Our racks get a lot of attention. There is a plethora of nicknames - boobies, ta-tas, bazunkas, melons, jugs, titties, hooters, headlights, dirty pillows, gazongas, breasticles, cans, bosom, mammaries. Did I miss any? Our "girls" are loved so much that October is dedicated for National Breast Cancer Awareness. http://www.nbcam.org/index.cfm Ladies, feel your girls. Guys, feel your girl's girls. Get a mammogram. Drink milk. What???? Dr. Northrup, a frequent guest on Oprah, advices us to increase our intake of Vitamin D to help prevent breast cancer. "...researchers determined that women with vitamin D levels above 52 ml have half the risk of developing breast cancer..." More info on the study at http://www.oprah.com/article/health/womenshealth/20090826-orig-christiane-northrup-vitamin-d

I want to honor my "girls" after my first mammogram this month. I'm going to buy some pretty lingerie as a tribute to my "peaches." Glamour magazine uses fruit for "cup comparison": A cup is the size of a kiwi, B cup are peaches, C cup are apples, D cup = oranges, E cup is a grapefruit and F cup is the size of a coconut. If you honor your fruit, watch out for the booby trap gimmicks such as the Nipple Erector Set or the Brava Breast Enhancement System. I'm going for a bra that makes my breasties look sexy in the hopes of promoting more wild life in suburbia.

*** Be educated about Inflammatory Breast Cancer which is not detectable in a mammogram and progresses quickly. http://www.nbcam.org/disease_inflammatory_breast_cancer.cfm This type of breast cancer is called "inflammatory" because the breast often looks swollen and red, or "inflamed" IBC accounts for 1 to 5 percent of all breast cancer cases in the U.S.

*** I dedicate this entry to Julie's "breasty dumplings."

Got the Edge

His pants were ripped from knee to knee and he was not wearing any underwear. It was the last thing I wanted to see as I tried to move my busted-up legs. The right foot was twisted, flopping around like a piece of cooked pasta and the left foot was shooting pain from the heel. I was on a behind-the-scenes shoot of the series Stargate in Vancouver and my co-producer and I had a free afternoon. We rented a snowmobile which crashed into a tree and tumbled over the edge of a mountain with me on board. Even though I was in pain, a part of me smiled that my friend's "package" was exposed to the freezing cold. As the emergency crew strapped me to the toboggan for the long journey down Whistler mountain, I realized I was stuck in a moment and couldn't get out of it.

Breaking my legs was one of the best things to ever happen to me. My friend Angel arrived at the hospital just in time to keep those socialized medicine nurses from giving me a hip replacement. (They were wheeling me away for a surgery I didn't need!) Back in NYC, it was evident that a wheelchair was not conducive to reaching my fifth floor walk-up but my friend Stephanie set me up in her swanky doorman pre-war with an elevator. My dad and brother flew from Atlanta to provide assistance of getting me into an ambulet for the daily doctor visits. They even bought me a female urinal. (Until I got the "quickie" wheelchair, I couldn't fit through the door frame.) Because I was a constant fixture on the sidewalk in my quickie, catching rays in a bikini and a cast, I was nicknamed the 'Mayor of the 91st street.' Four months post-surgery, Krysia & Liz switched apartments with me so that I could do the Mrs. Wiggins shuffle with my walker around their super-fab garden apartment. One special guy took me on many dates, and on a few occasions, had to carry me over his shoulder to reach to an awkwardly-located NYC restaurant bathroom. Dan became my man. It was all in the name of love.

The accident happened ten years ago and now I am a runner. In the words of Forrest Gump, "For no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town." Running is like life - you keep your head up, put one foot in front of the other, make small goals that build upon each other, you reach a goal. In every city, town, or suburb, "there are clubs you can't belong to, neighborhoods you can't live in, schools you can't get into, but the roads are always open." - Nike. I will follow.

I followed two friends and entered my first 8K on Saturday. There is euphoria around a race and the adrenaline kicks in. The gunshot blasts. People cheer. Deborah waves and claps to all the track marshals. Jackie coaches us to keep going. We see neighbors. Feel the community. All was good until the last half mile. My breakfast was knocking on my uvula. I needed some rockin' music in order to reach my goal - beat the man who juggles while running. Elevation!

**********************************************
Review of Tuesday's concert:
The beltway was jammed with limos inching along for two hours to join 80,000 people at the stadium.

In keeping with the DC vibe, Bono introduced the band as Larry, the man who wrote U2's constitution, Adam, the Minister of Culture, Edge, 'the leader of my free world' and he himself might be Majority Leader...'verbal, elegant but tough when I need to be.'

Being in DC, a few political mover & shakers were in attendance - Nanci Pelosi, Speak of the US House of Representatives and broadcaster George Stephanopoulos, as well as African leaders like Paul Kagame, President of Rwanda. Bono dedicated Beautiful Day to Eunice Shirver and New Years Day was dedicated to Teddy Kennedy. 'For a peaceful Ireland we salute you Teddy...'

My favorite moment was when a boy named Andy ran around the stage for City of Blinding Lights. Bono said he called him up because he had a face that looked at the world before it was vain. Least favorite moment was in the long line of the ladies bathroom, with the gal behind me saying she needed to throw up and the lady in front of me hacking like she had swine flu. Stuck in a moment but it was a beautiful day!
The set:
Breathe
Magnificent
Get on Your Boots
Mysterious Ways
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Elevation
Your Blue Room
Beautiful Day
New Year's Day
Stuck In A Moment
Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy - Remix
Sunday Bloody Sunday
MLK
Walk On
One
Where The Streets Have No Name
Encore:
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender

Ash of Cumin and a Teaspoon of Old Spice

Gigi walked into the kitchen and asked me, "Mommy, why are you wearing your kitchen skirt?" She was referring to my apron. A memory flashed of when I tried to work my metaphoric kitchen skirt while pitching a television show at a national cable channel that does a lot of food programming. The series starred Mama Gena cooking up sexy dishes we called Culinary Seductions. They laughed me out of the door after telling me that each morning the corporate offices start their day with prayer. That was before I knew how to cook anything but bake sale items.

Baking has always been my thing because of my amazing grandma Cecil. When we visit her house, our teeth hurt after eating too much eclair pie, pea pickin' cake, and cobbler. Those are the staples, no matter what time of year. Grandma Cecil taught me to make the goods from pie crust to Almond Joy Cake. I needed a little dessert inspiration for a dinner party we are attending this weekend and pulled out a worn, well-loved recipe. The theme is Italian and I chose the Italian Cream Cake card. It may not be authentic but it is one sweet example of grandma's Southern baked goods. Maybe I'll blog about the party next week.

Cooking and baking blogs are everywhere now. Evidently there can't be too many cooks in the kitchen. There was an article in the Washington Post about the modern day phenom of cooking and baking blogs with The Bread Baker's Apprentice, Daring Bakers/Daring Cooks, and The Mixer and others. The article attributes the cooking and baking groups to people wanting to connect to a community of like-minded people. It also mentions the movie "Julie & Julia," which I saw last week on Boovie Night, my book/movie club. It inspired me to do my own cooking vlog (video blog), with the kids helping me prepare maple/cider pork with smashed cauliflower. The video is low-rez but the meal is good enough to serve at a dinner party AND if you have kids, they will eat it because it has syrup. Click on the box after the recipe to see my helpers add an "ash" of cumin and a half teaspoon of "old spice."

Maple & Apple Cider Pork*
1/2 c maple syrup
4 tbsp course mustard
1/4 c apple cider
1/2 onion
1/2 tsp all spice
1 tsp cumin
pork loin cut into 1 inch thick or pork chops

preheat oven 350
Combine maple syrup, mustard, cider, onion, all spice, and cumin in saucepan and cook over medium heat, 7-10 minutes, until sauce thickens. Stir occasionally.

Grill pork on stove top, 2-3 minutes until bottom is brown. Flip and smother saucy sauce on each piece of pork. Grill another 2-3 minutes until bottom is brown. Pour more sauce and transfer pork to a baking sheet. Set aside remaining sauce for drizzling when serving.

Cook in oven for appx. 10 minutes.
*(adapted from Rachel Ray)

Smashed Cauliflower*
Steam head of cauliflower

Smash with :
1 cup chicken or veggie stock
1/4 c plain yogurt
2 cloves of minced garlic
pinch of red pepper flakes

Stir and add salt/pepper
* (adapted from Tyler Florence)

I'm Getting A Facelift

I'm looking a little tired. When I had my daughter three and a half years ago, David Dean came for a hospital visit. He nuzzled up next to me and held his newborn sister in his arms. Then he looked at me, and said, "Mommy, your eyes have cracked." It was the beginning of the beginning - mid life.

Professional advice is needed for my cracks. There are many products to try for wrinkle reduction and my list goes something like this: L'Oreal Collagen Filler, Dermalogica Anti-Aging Serum, Soap & Glory Eye Trick and Treat. There are books and articles everywhere but I thought it opportune to ask the dermatologist, since we were already there for an issue Gigi was having. He told me I have "fine lines." However, they don't look so fine to me and I urged him to tell me about Botox. Evidently, Botox is only for the area above the eyebrows. He gave me a sample of Retin A which will take months before there is any change.

It sure would be great to get an instant improvement, like the beauty product commercials promise. Since it is too soon to go under the knife, I opted for a jackhammer. The lines in my face are manageable, for now, but the crack in our guest room pedestal sink will not go away. I called our friendly neighborhood transformer for a face lift that could occur in a matter of days.

Little did I know that Jodi Longo of Renovation Studios has a gift that is better than surgery; it's borderline supernatural. She is a modern day Wonder Woman with kick ass super hero powers of remodeling, a visible fleet of red trucks, and a tape measure lasso of truth. Not only did she plan our bathroom makeover, she took care of an emergency on the first visit. The day she came to do the "take off", we had an unrelated leak in our basement ceiling. Jodi called Joe (her Alfred of sorts/project manager) to take a look. They threw on their metaphoric capes, and saved the day by rescuing us from a flood.The rejuvenation is in progress and it is minimally evasive. As I write this entry, there is pounding going on above my head. Debris is sliding down the inner makings of our 100+ year old home. The planning and trips to Home Depot, Lowes, and various plumbing stores have been enlightening. Can you believe people still order colored toilet seat covers? If you have one, call Jodi immediately!

I understand the joy that one experiences with a face lift. There is hope for something better, something new and improved. The change is about getting rid of the proverbial frown lines.

Type in your deep thoughts. Comment as "your name" or "anonymous." Click button "post comment." Yee ha!

Scanning for Wieners

The village of Kensington, Maryland is the greatest place to be on Labor Day Weekend - it's the last hurrah at the neighborhood pool, an amazing parade, and the Pitchfork Block Party. (It has that title because three streets that host the party form the shape of a pitchfork.) The shindig starts on Sunday afternoon with music rocking, children running, and grown-ups grilling. Some adults mingle into the wee hours of the morning which was when my neighbors ravenously opened a package of Oscar Meyers that sent one dog flying into another person's back yard. The recipient is a master gardener and would be perplexed if she pulled up a wienie weed of that sort. Someone had to go on a hunt for the hot dog.

Looking around for a snaaaausage is a daunting task in the dark, but I've also found it overwhelming in the fluorescent lights of the super market. The first time I entered a grocery store after moving from New York City, it took me over two hours to find what we needed. In NYC, I had a service deliver the goods. There were not many products because the only thing I knew how to make was reservations. Ok, bad joke but true. I could scramble eggs. In college, I lived off of stewed tomatoes and macaroni. Ask my college roommate and dear friend Jennie Plentie. Not anymore. We moved here and somehow I magically became a cooker. My kitchen is sizzlin'. Maybe it was because someone had to feed my kids. Maybe it was because I needed a creative outlet.

Ingredients are necessary for my "hot cookin' that's going on tonight, and the temperature is rising just right", as G Love and Special Sauce sings. (The music video is at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stOfN0y_bpo) I know, I could order my groceries to be delivered even in suburbia but I want to experience the food, to touch it and smell it. I love how I FEEL when I walk through Whole Foods. I feel a sense of the primal when I go on a quest to Balducci for miso paste and other obscure ingredients. But lo and behold, there is always the utilitarian markets trips that remain daunting.

Even though it's swell to forage for food, the grocery store process is stuck in the 1950's! It is inefficient. You put products in a cart. Take products out of cart. Cashier picks up each product, scans it. Each product is put in bag. Bags of products go back in cart. Bags are put in trunk. Products are emptied into kitchen. It is enough to make you put on a poofy petticoat and do yourself in. However, the grocery goddesses heard my prayers and someone decided to help me work my skirt in the food aisles.

The grocery store revolution has begun and I may seem hopelessly suburban* but I am loving it. I'm now my own checkout chick. The hand-held scanner at Giant allows me to ring up my products as a I go along. I put them in the bag I want. When it is time to pay, the cashier takes my scanner and POOF, I'm outa there. I've saved four steps in the store! Even putting away the food is much quicker because I've bagged things according to where they go. And, I know this sounds silly, it is satisfying, maybe even borderline fun. Ever play cashier when you were a child? You can re-live the moment. My daughter is living it as a reality. She doesn't even want to watch Dora in the kid grocery carts anymore. She is busy being my helper, zapping UPC codes on Oscar Meyer wieners. Hot diggity dog!

* "hopelessly suburban" was coined by my friend Brooksie Brooks
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Ruckus Amok Us

There was some family drama in August but I bet my son won’t include it in his first grade homework assignment - I Had a Ball This Summer. I would write about how we swam across the country. We were filmed in the Bahamas for a Shark Week promo, skimboarded in the Hamptons, swam through a sea of people in NYC, dove into the Delaware shores, and jumped off the “tower of power” into Lake Coeur D’Alene in Idaho. That’s where the hullabaloo happened.

Each year twenty-one family members gather for a week at Dan’s family compound. Three Bragg houses shoulder the lake, located in the northern panhandle of Idaho. The air smells fresh, the hills are hairy with pine trees, and the lake is crystal clear. Those waters get stirred up a bit when we reunite.

Over the years, the family has adjusted to various drama bombs. Cooking for twenty-one people equals chaos. Dan’s mom hires a chef to be on duty the week we invade. (That is what I call a woman workin' her skirt!) Chef Steve does all the shopping and prepares an early dinner for the children, and the adults are served a fabulous meal at 7:30p.

Another issue on the lake-911-list is babysitting. The adults want to have a vacation to water ski, ride the inner tube, hang out on the dock, have drinkies, etc. A hired crew of nannies is on duty in the afternoon through early evening, thanks again to Matriarch Marcia. These gals ensure the little people wear a life vest, prepare lunch, play in the sandbox, organize art projects, assist in multiple trips to the bathroom, and fulfill hundreds of snack requests. It is a camp of sorts. We even had a talent show for Nana/Papa’s anniversary.

This year the brouhaha came out of the blue because it was brought on by something we've never done before - build a shed. It became a typical case of boys vs. girls. The adult “boys” started constructing it in the courtyard of House 1. Several grown up “girls”, including me, expressed that they did not think the storage unit should be located in a place where everyone would see it. The ruckus-amok-us started when the “boys” refused to relocate and continued erecting their unit. An hour later, Auntie weighed in as the voice of reason with Papa's support. The “boys” understood their plight was over and an effort commenced to shed the shed from the courtyard and move it into a more suitable backyard location. Lots of cousins and several aunts and uncles were recruited. As we lifted the little house above our heads on a treacherous hill, I realized I was having a ball on my summer vacation. It’s not where you go or what you do, it is who is standing beside you that counts, especially when it comes to heavy lifting.

The Quest

It was an unfavorable day to be on a walkabout for our automobile. Not wanting to be a dowdy mom, I dolled up and wore heels to take Gigi to a doctor's appointment, with the hopes of possibly doing a little shopping after the checkup. However, it was 95 degrees in DC and the air was close. My little doozie was tired and didn’t want to walk. I thought, “I’ll get the stroller,” but as we approached our parking spot, I realized we were in trouble. The stroller was in our MISSING vehicle. I noticed a tow truck a block away and with my dogs-a-barkin', I scooped up Gigi and ran after it. The driver told me the address of where my car had been towed which was about a mile away. Ugggh! If only I had noticed the instructions on the sign, “No parking 4p-6:30p.” It was 4:15p. Off we went on a quest for our Quest with me in my heels and a 30-pound child on my hip, wishing I had worn flip-flops.

We turned the incident into an adventure. A cop pulled up, reported that she had given me a ticket and would follow us. I proclaimed that we were on a special mission with a police escort on a race to our car. There was a lot of traffic - the lady po po inched along beside us as we scurried along the sidewalk. Pedro the tow truck driver was waiting for us with a big smile, watching us jump up and down as we won the race. He said he had never seen people having fun after having their vehicle hauled away. I praised him for such a fine relocation job and he surprised me with the best news I'd had all afternoon. He threw out the fine and I hugged Pedro's tow-truck sized neck.

In the future, I'm going to heed the signs better than I’ve done in the past. Dan and I were in Morocco a few years back, driving across the Atlas Mountains. There was a road sign that looked like falling rocks, which was not very comforting on a jig-jag road with a shoulder that drops off hundreds of feet below. We were in a bit of a predicament as nature was calling. There are not any rest stops so we pulled over for an old-school style pit stop. Both doors should be open and you squat in between them. As soon as my pants were down, oodles of kids had surrounded us and were asking for candy. That's when we realized what the sign really meant - “Little Children Run Out of Caves.”

IF only more signs were provocative, people like me would pay attention. "Park here after 4 and I'll tow your ass." Or, "Slow your roll sister" on the flashing speed sign. The entrance sign to the beach community in Lewes made me stand up and take notice. It welcomed us to “Ape Hores” instead of “Cape Shores.” That's some kind of vacation community!
My favorite inciting sign is near our house, just north of DC on Hwy 495 at the Kensington/Chevy Chase exit - “Open Joints on Bridge.” What a call to action - get a motorcycle and light up. Now there's a quest that would be amusing but I bet I'd get another ticket.

About Face

Pretend play is a big deal in our house. Rarely a day goes by when someone isn’t wearing a mask, cape, crown, or a wig (and that's just Dan and me). It is no wonder we are crazy about face swapping. It is the virutal, photoshop way to put on a costume. I first experienced trying on another person's body when we were given a card by a Showtime friend. He designed it so that my face is on a well-endowed woman sipping tea, and Dan is mowing the grass naked while smoking a stogie. Welcome to the suburbs. >>>>> For our Seven Year Hitch Party invite, Dan was Tom Ewell and I was Marilyn. Then we discovered jib jab which allowed us to insert pictures into videos of us doing a square dance, tango, or striptease. See Hoe-down in box at the bottom of this story.

Now with all the face swapping sites, grown-ups can play virtual dress-up with oodles of options. Try on various superhero bodies. Trek yourself into a character that actually talks. Mad Men yourself onto the set of of the tv series. Get eaten by a shark in frenzied waters. (By the by, DISCOVERY’S SHARK WEEK starts this Sunday at 9p.) Try on celebrity hairstyles. Or, if you are lucky, someone will swap you up and send it your way. Dan make me into a Fembot yesterday. I love that man!

Face it, we all need as many ways to have fun as possible. If you find yourself stuck inside on a rainy summer day, here is a list of a few sites that will entertain. Send me any other links that are not listed and forward along your face swap pictures & videos. I'm starting a web site for Workin' That Skirt and would love to have some eye candy.

• http://areyoubotornot.com/verify/?dest=builder_standalone& Turn yourself into a speaking robot
• http://www.amctv.com/originals/madmen/madmenyourself/ - Mad Men
• http://dsc.discovery.com/sharks/frenzied-waters/ Click on the jar closes to the right side of screen and put in your story (or a friend) about your “own” shark attack.
• http://bebe.dmimusic.com - Promotion for new Bebe jeans of three, hot girls dancing.
• http://www.instyle.com/instyle/makeover/# Try on new hair & makeup.
• http://hairmixer.com/?gclid=CPaEuYzFgJwCFclL5Qod1jqE9A Check out a new hair style.
• http://www.facedub.com/?gclid=COSH3vHEgJwCFdZD5godhziW_w - Swap your face and body!
• http://www.bodyswitcher.com/ - site to put your face in hundreds of celebs bodies or on the cover of magazines.
• http://www.trekyourself.com/?mId=29977449.3 -
• http://www.news3online.com/spread.php - You for president.

http://sendables.jibjab.com/ - send videos, greeting cards