At Least There Will Be Cake!

Yes, in life and at our book club, there will be cake!
Today my friends and I are embarking on a journey through literacy. I've never really thought about starting a book club until I realized that I did have a steady set of 3 girl friends that I enjoyed spending time with. Then I starting figuring out more exciting ways we could spend time together...instead of lunch dates with the four of us sitting around talking about our husbands, boyfriends, lack there of, etc. (You get where I'm going with this). So, We decided to start a book club.
Meanwhile, all I can think about is my mother's impeccable taste in reading material. Yes, books included, but she picks the best magazines to read, the best parts of the paper to read, even the most excited and practical cookbooks to "read." I can only hope to instill this knowledge on my friends when we're picking out our books.
I currently have 6 books on my nightstand, 4 from my mother, one from a history professor, and one from my brother. Which leads me to my second rather insignificant point, my brother has gained this impeccable taste in books also. And though I am not lacking in the ability to judge a book by it's cover, I do gain all my reading material from either my mother or Will, my aforementioned brother.
In fact, it is his quote that we are using to name our book club, "At Least There will be Cake!" Mentioned by him to my other brother, Evan, during a letter of congratulations for achieving Eagle Scout. Of course, this applies in life as some deep and meaningful quote about seeing the brighter side of life and taking the good out of the bad. As my friend Sara (also in the book club) said, "My grandmother's funeral will be hard, but they'll have cake!" So, this quote carries deep significance. However, it applies to the book club also. If you don't like the book we're reading, come anyway, At Least There Will Be Cake!

To Sew or Not To Sew

Being creative in the ways of fabric is one lesson I have failed miserably at.
I do not know how to sew. At all. I used to know. In fact, I had one of those little red children's sewing machines as a child. But even then, I was horrible at it.
The Boggs women, on the other hand are all accomplished stitchers, quilters, cross-stitchers, darners, tailors, and the like. I have failed. I can not quilt, nor can I stitch. I can cross-stitch, but here's where I fail: completing a piece. I have yet to fully complete one pattern. I believe that I am a victim of my generation. No longer can we sit still, exhausting our eyes trying to fit a piece of moss green floss (not tooth floss) on a needle through fabric repeated times. Boring? I don't think so, but then there's that movie I wanted to go see, or that band playing at that bar that I rarely go to, but half of my friends are going, so I'll sit still at the bar and ruin my hearing, rather that sit in the piece and quite of my home and ruin my eyesight. Cynical much? Yes. But only because I am victim to the 21st Century Lifestyle I am living my early adult years in and to my Generation...I think we're Generation Y??
But this sewing thing I have never been able to get a hold of. Nevermind that every pair of pants I purchase needs to be hemed because NO ONE makes pants for a 6 waist and a 26" inseam. Believe me it's CRAZY. Even pants labeled SHORT are 2-3 inches too long. So, I buy these pants and promptly send them off to my mother, who can sew wonderfully, to hem them with the usual 4" off the top. Then I wait. And wait. Finally I can make that trip to my mother's house to pick them up, four weeks later.
ah, well...that's the price you pay for a mother who is still willing to hem her adult daughter's pants every once and a while. In an act of personal growth, I did put a sewing machine on my Christmas List.
Quilting is also something I need to learn from the Boggs family. But that is another story for another day. In the mean time, I'm going to go curl up in the quilt my aunt made for me when I was born.

For The Love...

Valentine's Day 2008. I'm not a Valentine's Day Hater. In fact, I love V-day! I can't help it. I've had someone to love for 7 years straight now. Ok, you can blame me for being a schmuck, but let me explain:

From my first Valentine's Day in First Grade, I have hand made every single Valentine's I have ever given out. And by hand-made I mean I cut the hearts out of construction paper, glued the doilies, hand wrote "Happy Valentines," "Be Mine," or "Boys are Gross" on every single one. I was famous in this small, secluded Elementary school world for my hand-made valentines. In fifth grade, we were all supposed to make "Valentine Boxes" (not a new concept) to hold our Valentines. It was to be a contest. Sure, one girl made her box with a flipping carousel on the top, but mine failed miserably. Why? Because I had to cut out 120 (not kidding) hearts, glue at least 45 doilies, write Happy Valentine's Day From, ME! 33 times. And it was exhausting. But, this only instilled a love and devotion to Valentine's Day and what it meant to share your platonic love for your friends.

My second excuse for being in love with Valentine's Day (pardon the pun) is that my mom has always tried to be inventive and secretive for this lovers holiday. She is always playing tricks on my dad, buying him presents, taking him secret places and the like. My mom actually kidnapped my father one time for a boondoggle. Yes, event my father is subject to boondoggles. This year, they are escaping their last bird in the nest (Evan) for a romantic evening away. This sneekiness has rubbed off on me quite a bit. One year, my boyfriend (now husband) was going to be gone on V-day, so I packed his bag with all kinds of red goodies, like all red Fruit Loops and Red Hots, and little love notes. As Sara says, I'm a dork-a-saurus. Tell me about it. So, as it is Valentine's Day, I can't tell anyone what I've cooked up for my loved ones this year. But trust me, it's going to be great!

Here's to Happy and Healthy Relationships! Hug someone you love!

Sweatin' To The Oldies

I saw a commercial today for the everlasting Richard Simmons and his sweatin' to the Oldies tapes. Don't worry fans! 20 years after the original release, you can yet again get your personal copy of this amazing DVD. That features REAL people doing REAL workouts to REAL music!
But wait, they'll give you Richard Simmons Sweatin' to the Oldies 2. That's right, both dvds for only 29.99. And, if you order in the next 30 minutes, they'll include Richard Simmons' modern workout for FREE!
This is the offer of a lifetime. Richard Simmons is willing to get YOU, yes, YOU thin and wonderful again. I'm pretty sure they interviewed the same "this is not a paid actor" people in this commercial as they did the last one 20 years ago.
Amazing.
And what did I do? I promptly called my mom, at work, to tell her that we should get it for my brother Will. Only because he'd think it was hilarious, and she HAD to know about it.

Idle Chit Chat

It is a rare occasion that I don't talk to my mother at least once a day. Twice a day? Keeps the doctor away. The psychological doctor that is.
Yes, I, like any daughter, think my mother is crazy. But, I know for certain that I'm equally as crazy if not totally nuts. For this reason, talking to my mother on a daily basis is necessary. Her ability to see my side of EVERYTHING is amazing. Whether it's the completely frustrating side of being married, or the completely frustrating side of being the oldest child with two brothers-both completely different from each other. Shrinks beware! Only my mother and I (and my aunts) can cure whatever we've got.
It was only recently that my mother became one of my best friends. I could have gone weeks without talking to her in high school had she not been just a wall away. Now a days, that is completely different. I can't go 24 hours without knowing her opinion about everything.
For example, I called her just to see if she thought my snow tires could hold up to the 7 inches of snow we got in town, or if she can send me a funny e-mail my aunt had told me about, or more importantly that the website for my business was finally up and running (it can be found at www.icingonthecakeevents.net). The actual business? It's going slowly.
It's not that I'm totally incompetent, it's that, after 11 years (college, high school, middle school) her most awesome opinion matters again! Oh boy does it matter.
And it seems to matter more when I'm driving in my car. I promptly call her when I leave the gym, when I leave my work for lunch, when I leave my Girl Scout meetings (I'm the leader), and basically anytime I'm in my car. And that tangent just cost me about 4 layers to my craziness to be shared later!
So, tonight, when I leave my office after a Girl Scout leader meeting at around 9pm, I will turn my car on, buckle my seat belt, and reach for my phone. Probably to ask her how her meeting went for Evan's senior all night party...or maybe to see what she's watching on TV. All because talking to my mom is an essential part of being my mother's daughter...we talk too much, but enjoy the company.

Lesson 3: A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

Now, this is something my mother would forward me in one of those ridiculous FW: e-mails:

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too
Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.
i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it.

Maorl of the sroty? Exercise your mind.

Lesson 2: Boondoggles are completely appropriate

"Oh, it was another one of your mother and her sisters' boondoggles."
This is a phrase is hear from my father on a constant basis. 'Boondoggles' are road trips of seemingly no importance, taken just because you're bored and want to get out of the house and usually involve some kind of shopping for a special something that you can't get anywhere else.
Take for example, when my uncle died, my mother and I went to visit my aunt for a week, a mere 6 weeks before my wedding. Of course, this included a boondoggle from the second we got off the plane in Louisville, Kentucky. It included valet parking, the Marriott downtown, the Hard Rock Cafe (check another off in my endless goal to reach all the Hard Rock Cafes) , and of course, a visit to Louisville Stoneware. This was the crown-jewel in our boondoggle.
Pottery-an icon of the south (yes, Kentucky considers themselves The South. Fine by me). Pottery by Louisville Stoneware and Hadley Pottery are the quintessential places to go to understand only part of the south's rich culture. Used for years in my grandmother's home, they are durable, beautiful and extremely useful-like I said, a description of the South, but more importantly of Southern Women.
So we visited both places, which are rooted so deeply into our historical and genealogical beings, to gain some comfort in the trials of life. It is no surprise that we find shopping and great hotels rooms comforting, but shopping for pottery is how my mother, my aunts and I find comfort when we're together.
As for our other boondoggles? Those are stories just waiting to be told.

Lesson 2: Treat yourself to road trips for fun.

Lesson 1: Llama Cakes and Secret Rolls.

It is essential in my family that you know how to cook. Now, this isn't "know how to cook" to please your man, your father, or anyone else (women's lib-at ease). This is "know how to cook" to please your palette. The Boggs women are famous for their biscuits, pot roasts, creative pies and oh yes, our rolls. Now, this is the family secret. No, you won't find the recipe here, or anywhere else. My mother barely let me have it! But, these are the crowning piece to our cooking success. Found at as many functions as possible, these rolls are the purpose of a family secret society of cooks.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the day I went away to college that I realized my mom was a genius in the kitchen. It had to be the day my youngest brother, 5 years younger than me and my best friend, came home from kindergarten and said, "Mom, I want a llama on my birthday cake." Now, my mom being the creative baker she is, looked at him and said, "You want a Llama cake?" "No! I want a llama ON my cake," Evan replied. And what did he get? A Llama on his cake.

Now, if that wasn't enough, weeks later he came home from the same kindergarten and said, "Mom, we need a cake for class."
"And what kind of cake do you need?" My mother replied.
"A cake for the ocean."
And so was born....The Yellow Submarine cake. Yes, periscope and all.

Lesson 1: Learn to cook and bake and please your palette.