Let's Have Another Piece of Pie

Sometimes life cries out for a nice break from the daily routine …… a pie break, a taste of sweetness.

the old mid-west


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So Long, Farewell

In two days we will have moved all our worldly goods out of the KCMO area.  It was a great tour of duty. Moving is exciting to me and exhausting.  It also stirs up all kinds of emotions.

Our last five and half years in this location has been very good, yet very hard in some ways.  I think we felt a bit lost at times.  Trying to find that fit.  Seems that most of the organizations we tried to fit into just didn’t fit quite right.  And that is part of life.  And that is okay.  For the most part we saw the “ill-fit” and moved on.  A couple of things we left scratching our heads, a bit bewildered.  But no worries, we picked ourselves up and dusted our selves off and moved on.

Now, we move physically as well.  It will be a very good thing for us and our family.  But leaving from one town to another stirs up some things for me.  When we left the east coast to come to the mid-west we left family, friends, memories of good and hard times.  All that was stirred up in me the other day.  Memories of a great family loss - http://wingedprisms.com/2012/07/22/our-darkest-day/

It’s odd how our minds and hearts get stirred up at times.  I like it, actually.  Even the painful ones.  They are strangely dear to me.  The memories are a part of me.

So, this is a time to reflect, a time to start anew, a time to look for all the opportunities and adventures the good Lord has for us.

the old mid-west

the old mid-west

I will be off the grid until next week when I look forward to telling you of our new adventures.  Have a great week, Dear Readers.

Enjoy!

cate b

 


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Whistles Callin’ Me Away

moving along

moving along

I have the earliest memories of longing for adventure.  We lived in a simple ranch house, just big enough for us.  The yard was big enough to hide in and play baseball or whatever.  We had woods across the street that we took ownership of.  But, when I attended elementary school and was invited over to a classmates house for the first time……..

Well, to put it simply – a whole new world opened up to me.  Everyone I played with in our neighborhood had the same houses.  But the development next to ours, well, they were amazing to this little girl.  The simple life in a small ranch house became a split level house.  So much more for the imagination.  From that moment on I longed to move.  I wanted something different.  Something more imaginative.

As neighbors began to move on to the latest housing developments in other towns, we stayed.  Year after year we stayed.  I know now that I am an adventurer.  I love change, I love challenges.  Some challenges are awful but I never turned and ran the other way.  I may try and plant my feet in the ground and cry and throw something…… but then I take a breath and jump in.  Still scared, still crying, still wanting to throw something but I jump in.

I married a man who also was not afraid to jump in.  We have moved often in the forty years we’ve been together.  It’s been good.  So, once again I am surrounded by packed boxes and a new adventure is waiting for us.  Soon.  We are moving a week from Friday!

I spent the last school year, four days a week, in university housing with my son, wife and two daughters, helping care for the wee ones while their parents attend classes.  That was a long, cold, tiring year away from home and hubby – but an adventure and I would do it again if needed.  We finally found a house just two blocks from them!  The girls will come to me and I will sleep in my own bed each night.

Some may say I have a restless spirit.  It’s the ones who are content to stay that think those thoughts.  But I describe it not as restless.  I love adventures and I love change.  Don’t fault me on that.  I’ve tried hard to not be that way.  I even stopped moving the furniture around often.  LOL.  But adventures…… it is me.  Just like the ones who are not that way – that is you.  And you know what?  All of us are OK.  Neither of us are wrong.  That’s the beauty of being human.

So once again, the beach girl is moving and I’m moving to a tiny mid-west town that is surrounded by farms and US Air Force and farms and full of university students.  Can’t wait to tell you all about it.

Until then, you can catch up on my adventures in the mid-west here:  http://wingedprisms.com/2013/04/11/cate-plain-and-tall/

Enjoy!

cate b


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Back to Reality

A new adventure coming up in two weeks.  Stay tuned.

In the meantime…….a snippet of a great vacation……….. and now back to reality.

Enjoy!

cate b


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How To Take a Proper Vacation

Happy 4th of July, USA!  I have been on the east coast of our fine nation for almost two weeks.  Here is how I take a vacation:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_horseshoe_crab

And when I wasn’t laying on the beach…….

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddy_Valastro

and meeting up with very precious friends……..

and that is how I roll……….

Enjoy!

cate b


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This Land Was Made For You And Me

I have had the opportunity to travel across my nation at least ten times.  I have lived in about six out of fifty states.  I have entered many more – but not all fifty -yet.  There is such a vast difference in landscapes and climates in the USA.  I have yet to see the Grand Canyon and Alaska………. so much to see.

I am presently vacationing in the state where I grew up.  Therefore, this post will be short – but sweet.

This Land Is Your Land
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

This land is your land This land is my land
From California to the New York island;
From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and Me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
I saw above me that endless skyway:
I saw below me that golden valley:
This land was made for you and me.

I’ve roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding:
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

More pictures will follow soon.  But until then, here is a pic of the New York skyline – minus The Twin Towers of The World Trade Center :(

New York Skyline

New York Skyline

Enjoy!

cate b

Thirsty for a Root Beer?


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Root Beer Lake – My Memories of The Jersey Shore

South Jersey, as it is known, has a strange geographical “thing” going on.  Doesn’t that sound professional?  I don’t know what to call it and I really do not care what it is suppose to be termed.  It is a pine forest mostly made up of some kind of pygmy pines and white sand mixed in with dirt and rivers and streams all made of Root Beer Water.

Yes, I said Root Beer Water!  The water is the color of root beer or sassafras tea.  I think the color is from cedar trees – but whatever.  Like I said above, I really am not interested in the science behind it.  This post is MY memories of the shore.  And as through the eyes of a young child – it’s root beer water.  Of course, I do believe my Uncle Runny supported my imagination on that and he probably was the source of that belief.  He even told me that if I drank the water from the faucet of their tiny summer cottage – the water that stained  your sinks brown and smelled and tasted of metal - my hair would curl.  I drank a lot to no avail.  I still had straight hair.  Very disappointed.

The days my mom told us to pack our swim suits and towels because we were going to Lanoka Harbor, well, they were some of the best memories.  My Aunt and Uncle and cousin Paul had a lovely little cottage set among tall skinny trees where the ground was spattered with dirt and fine white sand.  It smelled delicious.

We all crammed into this cottage and slept – who knows where.  We ate on the screened in porch.  We waved to the neighbors.  My Aunt would hand us bowls and tell us to go across the street to pick wild blueberries so she could make a pie.  I hated blueberries then.  But I loved the idea of picking them ourselves so she can make a pie that I never ate.  Love them now and can’t get enough of them.

Later we would hop on bikes (me on the handle bars of cousin Paul’s) and rode fast down to the bay beach.  There was a giant metal swing set in the sand.  Other days – or sometimes in the same day – we took off on bikes in the other direction and swam in the creek.  The creek was the finest and coolest root beer water.  You could see your feet in the sand and schools of little black minnow – type fish swam around you, tickling.  My older brother and Paul swam out to the bridge that ran over the creek and climbed up and jumped in.  They were my heroes.

Uncle Runny liked to go to the boat docks.  I have no idea why, other than to look at the boats and talk to people.  Maybe he had a boat…..  Maybe we went out on  it…… I do not remember that.

Uncle Runny was a very kind man.  He was a very quiet man.  I rarely remember him having long conversations, especially with me.  He had three sons.  I think a little girl was a curious thing to him.  But he was so kind to me.  I remember watching him in the water.  He loved to swim.  He would get out there, even in the ocean, and just swim back and forth.  When he was ready for company, I went out with him and he just smiled and watched me jump over waves and encouraged me to just float over the waves.  Good times.

When I got my driving permit and I drove my mom and younger brother to visit the family at their cottage (thought my mom would have a heart attack when I passed someone) my Uncle Runny had just gotten a new giant cadillac and said to get in and drive him to the boat docks.  It was like driving on air.

I have no pictures of those days.  No pictures of Uncle Runny.  A couple of Aunt Marion (his wife and my mom’s sister) after he passed and she was quite older. But the images never leave my mind.  Very special times.

So, back to Root Beer Water.  Some days we loaded into the car and went to Root Beer Lake.  There are three lakes in the nearby town of Forked River (For-ked River).  I believe they use to be (at least one or two of them) cranberry bogs.  The one we frequented had a sandy beach and a concession stand with colorful awnings.  It was great to swim in root beet water – so cool and refreshing.  This lake had a road under the surface that was higher than the lake bottom where we swam.  It went across the lake and my brother and cousin walked across every time.  Still my heroes.  I tried to go once and had a fear I would fall off the road into deep, deep water.

Those were such good, sweet memories.  I do hope we have made sweet memories for our children.  And now we are making memories with our grandchildren. Life goes on.

Here are some pics from the web I found of the Pine Barrens of South NJ.  Check out the Root Beer Water!

Pine Barrens

Pine Barrens

Things to do in Root Beer Water

Things to do in Root Beer Water

Thirsty for a Root Beer?

Thirsty for a Root Beer?

Thank you for joining me in my memories of childhood at The Jersey Shore!  Take time to make new memories for yourself and your children and grandchildren.  They last forever!

Enjoy!

cate b

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