True Grit

1st Birthday Bear

When we brought her home from the hospital, our sons took one look at her blanket and said, “Pink Stinks.”  Surviving a home with built-in older brothers, one of whom wanted to name her “Hotdog,” has put a fair amount of grit in Jennifer, our youngest and only daughter.    These boys have tortured her dolls simply to spark a reaction.  They have smothered her in “the dutch oven” and are guilty of too much monkey-in-the-middle.    I drew the line when at the tender age of four, they had filled a water bucket up in the front yard and told her she was old enough to learn how to “breathe under water.”

My Stinky-Winkie is 24 years old as of this writing.   Her brothers are 30 and 28.   She grew up with Michael Jackson’s Thriller album, Power Rangers, and Leo DiCaprio.  Each October she morphed into a princess, a butterfly, a witch, or a superhero.  She danced.  She brought me hand picked flowers.  She loves traditions and decorating the Christmas tree.   The years have clicked past so fast and now, when I look at her, I see the most amazing woman…a culmination of life experience and education infused with kindness, common sense, and wit.

Daddy’s Baby Girl

She is a mother now.  My grand-doggie is about 5 lbs., has dark chocolate eyes, and a long tail that is almost as long as it’s body.  Our “Hotdog” is Lola; a red mini-dachshund, and she loves her momma.

Lola Bear

Jennifer and I share a knowing, a commonality, a connection that I know will pass to the next generation.   This is what makes daughters so SO special.  The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world.  She is my finest hour; my hope.  When I look at her, I see my perfect self in the most selfless way.

A turning point:    I’ll never forget the time we went shopping because I needed an outfit.  Jennifer was all of 15.  A black and white polka dot dress caught my attention so I picked it up.   In pure SWAT-team mode, she grabbed my arm, and urgently demanded,  “Put that back, Mom, right now.  That’s for old people.  I’m trying to save you.”   Surprised and mildly offended, I argued on behalf of my selection.  My case wasn’t complete before an obviously geriatric grey haired lady, supported by a cane, appeared from the fitting rooms, wearing “my” outfit.   Jennifer shot me a victory look and had the grace to not say another word.  We still laugh about it.

When the kids were little, I was so smart.  They would ask me something and I could give a satisfactory answer or at least get by.  They bought it.  Every time.  When they started questioning me, the backup standard was, “Because I said so.”    That response was golden for a long time.  These days they see my games and call me out or google everything.   Even my best explanations are suspect until verified.   I was gifted in the answer department until the damn Internet came along.

One day Jennifer will find all this out and I will sit on the sidelines, watching and smiling inside.

1st Day of Kindergarten

Our World Traveler

Time to Cancel His Show

Obama is a character; a shell game in the flesh, a puppet.  He acts for the audience and will say anything to get what he wants.  Remember transparency promises? 

He is coddled by the media and embraced by all that is fake in Hollywood.  He performs well in a controlled environment.   He is a man without without substance and this was painfully demonstrated during the first presidential debate on October 3, 2012:  The Rocky Mountain Smack Down.

Finally, the world got to see the insecure, smug Barry Obama as Romney chipped away at his facade.   For the first time in years, BO was on his own up against a business professional with no one telling him what to say via teleprompter, and having to attempt to defend an abysmal record over the past four years.  Obama is a narcissistic neophyte who does not have the experience or competence to hang with the big boys.  The emperor wore no clothes.

Both wives were seated

before the debate began and Mrs. Obama looked concerned, worried, and fearful. 

Did anyone else pick up on that?  After the debate, the mainstream media looked like someone had just died.  Then Al Gore gets on and comes up with the high altitude excuse for BO’s poor performance.  Really?  Rubio had it right when he said that Obama’s ideas aren’t any better at sea level.

During the debate, Barry couldn’t look the American people in the eye because deep down, he knows he is a fraud and it was humiliating for him to have to answer questions–coming from someone other than David Letterman –because he was exposed.  The president got it all wrong, likely because the fog in which he and his senior advisers are allowed to live had declared the election over weeks ago.  This led Obama to underestimate his opponent and overestimate his own position.   Earlier in the week President Obama told interviewers that his debate preparations were “a drag” because his advisers were making him do his “homework.”  If he didn’t have time to meet with global leaders, he certainly didn’t have time to do any homework either.

Obama made a grave error in believing his own hype during the last month of the campaign. Obama can never get back the moment in which he, by underestimating his opponent and overestimating himself, allowed Romney to become a plausible alternative.

Funny Papers

…some gems from facebook that tickle my funny bone.

Lucille

I can remember 1977 when this song came out.  It is still one of the saddest ones I know (and I wasn’t a farmer back then!)  Lucille may be eclipsed by Elvis Presley singing, “In the Ghetto.”    Oh wait, then there’s Bobby Goldsboro’s song, “Honey” where the wife died and he sings about how he misses her.  A sad song list must include Kris Kristoferson’s , “Sunday Morning Coming Down”  followed up by Johnny Cash singing, “We’ll Meet Again.”   –Whitney Houston’s, “I Will Always Love You” still tears me up.

Where are have all the great song writer, story tellers, and poets gone? 

On the flip side, I can be hip, too.  I think “Lose Yourself” by Eminem is brilliant.  Whatever the genre…I’m putting the word up and out on this web, this invisible cloud, to artists here and now:  we need real songs, real content again.  P R E T T Y  P L E A S E

Camping Cake

 Coincidence?  I think not.

I’m about to share with you, my friend, a super secret super easy single serving cake recipe perfect for your next camping adventure.

Bake it using caution:  at minimum have a frosty mug of creamy, whole milk at the ready.

Shopping List:

1 – box  angel food cake mix

1- box any other cake mix (I used strawberry cake mix)

1- gallon size Ziploc bag

Directions:

Toss the two dry cake mixes into a Ziploc bag and knead until mixed.  Stow it in your camper or your cabinet until you are ready for a single serve of sweetness.

3-2-1  Recipe:  (Trust is a must or your game is a bust)

To a coffee cup or paper bowl add:

3   tablespoons of cake mix

2  tablespoons of water

–Microwave this for

1  minute!

You can top your cake with some powdered sugar, some canned frosting, a dollop of whipped topping or fresh fruit.  The possibilities are endless.

Always remember that one of the cake mixes has to be angel food.  Experiment with other cake flavors like pineapple, lemon, carrot, chocolate, or red velvet for the second choice.  Storage of the mix is simple:  toss it on a shelf–no need to refrigerate because it is dry.

The Show Pony

Imagine two American icons converging at the tip of Michigan’s mitten–

at the Straits of Mackinac, where Great Lakes Huron and Michigan are defined by the Mackinac Bridge, a massive suspension bridge.

This is precisely the spot where a group of Airstream owners rendezvoused with Captain Adam, master of all that is pirate, this past summer.  Salty sea dogs, rogue pirates, and even Captain Adam have mothers.  I affectionately call him my “Show Pony” and cashed in all my chips to get him to load his 30’ Boston Whaler on its triple axle trailer to haul it 300 miles up north for my Airstream rally.

Ok, so I promised to bake him his favorite chocolate cupcakes too.

Throw in a visit to the historic Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island

and you have a combination of epic proportion.

Big boys (and girls) with toys! 

We called our rally, “Exploring Under the Bridge” and advertised that there would be an opportunity to salmon fish and joy ride on a private boat.  What catapulted this rally over the top was the Whaler and the added adventure it could provide.   Airstreaming families rolled in from GA, OH, IL, MO, OK, MI, IN and Canada!   For many, this was their first experience on big water.

Our attendees were able to go back “Somewhere in Time” to Mackinac Island and sip lemonade on the porch of the Grand Hotel.  We took full advantage of the twin 225 Mercury Verado engines as we explored under the Mackinac Bridge.  We docked in time to catch happy hour at the island’s Pink Pony Saloon.

Here’s the not-so-secret secret:  Airstreaming and Boston Whaler boats are a state of mind and have become as common and well-loved in the culture of America as blue jeans and tees. 

Airstream’s silver-bullet travel trailers have been streaming down the nation’s ribbons of highways for more than 75 years Founder Wally Byam began the enterprise in the 1920s by selling plans for building trailers, which led to the design and launch of “The Clipper” in the early 1930s. The company makes travel trailers primarily, but also produces its Interstate touring coach with full amenities. Airstream has produced about 140,000 travel trailers and motor homes since it began, and roughly two-thirds of them are still making trails. Airstream is a subsidiary of Thor Industries. 

Salty sea captains and die hard Whaler owners like my son, Adam, are secretly pleased with themselves for thinking outside of the box.  Owners of both of these iconic American brands have an elevated understanding of style, durability, and value without being snobby about it.  Was that snobby?  We feel responsible for the life of our boat or trailer–knowing where she’s been before, if buying used (as many of us do) or if she’s been restored.  Those leaving a dealership keep meticulous records to pass down one day–if that day ever comes.

Airstreamers are an industrious lot; many had researched the Boston Whaler website and learned how unsinkable they are.  Those who could not swim or were afraid of water donned life vests and threw caution to the wind.  By the rally’s end, we heard so many nice things about the Whaler’s creature comforts and how she handled the 2-4’s in the Straits and how unafraid folks were.  That speaks volumes about qualities that are built into the Boston Whaler and how tasty my chocolate cupcakes really are!