Since September of 2005, I've been glad to offer Rochelle DeAnda a blog area to house her interesting, fun, wimsical, rambling writings but unfortunately, there were weaknesses in the structure of the blog software and it was vulnerable to break-ins by hackers. My whole website has been at risk because of this problem.
Since there is no way to move Rochelle's blog to a more secure script, I will no longer be able to provide her with a blog area, but all is not lost. I have created the following "archive" (below) of what she had written so you can still go back and read these postings.
Here is the archive of previous posts. (Sorry but I couldn't transfer the "comments" area.).................
"Maybe it's time for Rochelle's exploding dulcimer story. . . . ."
Well it's yours for the asking! (says Rochelle, peeking her head out
of the cheese veil of Wisconsin....!)
Years ago, may have been '94 or '95, I went to Evart, took a friend of
mine from Port Huron for the first time--Susan, who has cats on her
dulcimer and plays harp. We got in late and camped behind the stadium.
Anyway, the weather that year was the worst I've ever seen for heat.
On some thermometers it reached 120 degrees and the humidity was
insane. I remember walking in a shower fully clothed in a sundress
just to get some relief, but by the time we reached the other side of
the grounds I was completely dry. Anyway, a bad, bad environment for
dulcimers.
By Saturday I'd lost count as to how many times the ambulance had
visited people with heat stroke. The night brought in some wicked
storms, and before the largest blow of them, Susan and I decided to
pack up the tent and just go home. It was such a miserable existence
by that point. We managed to arrive safely back in Port Huron very
late that night.
About a week later, my dulcimer was standing in the living room, where
it always lived, out of the bag on its stand (so I could vacuum, dust
and play music at the same time if need be). I was two rooms over in
the kitchen when I heard a gun shot. Now, I was not living in a
neighborhood where you ever heard a gun shot, and I was alone in the
house and immediately completely freaked out. I tip-toed into the
living room to look out the front window---when to my surprise another
two or three shots went off, but they weren't shots, the sound was my
beloved Webster dulcimer exploding. It was the most horrific thing I'd
ever seen happen to an instrument. The strings were hanging all over,
the backboard was snapped near the right side and the pin block was
hanging by a few threads. Part of the dulcimer managed to still stay
on the stand, mangled, other parts were closer to the floor dangling
by strings. You would've thought I'd had an arrow thru my heart from
my screaming. I was hysterical! I ran for the phone, looked up Bill
Webster's number and heard the phone ring. As soon as he said
"Hello?"
I went off....
You know how those little toddlers sound after they've been crying for
an hour? Can't catch their breath and they do that jerking thing
trying to breathe and talk at the same time? Yup. That was me.
"Hel...lo sniff wheeze is this (sucking in air) Bi..sniff..ll? Um
sniff I wheeze ha...sob...ve sniff wheeze a dul...sniff runny
nose..ci..ci...mer wheeze
THATEXPLODEDINMYLIVINGROOMANDITSINPIECESANDIDON'TKNOWHATTODOOOOOOOOO!!!
complete sobbing and crying.
Well I think about that time Bill thought he'd gotten a prank phone
call. He's like, "WHO IS THIS?? WHAT IS WRONG??"
"Rochelle!!!" sobbing.
"Well calm down, breathe, breathe...quietly tell me what happened..."
So I told him the whole thing and finally managed to catch my breath.
He said, "Listen very carefully. Put the whole dulcimer, all the
strings, all the pieces, in its bag. Put the bag in the car. Are you
still there? Good. Put the dulcimer in your car. Calm down and bring
me the dulcimer. I will fix it. It's ok."
And fix it, he did. He is a miracle worker. And, he promised me that
"even if your dulcimer gets run over by a mac truck, I can fix it." I
didn't know if I believed him, but the last time I was in his shop, he
showed me a dulcimer that had been in a house fire. He built a new one
for the owner but he still had that burned mangled melted mess, and do
you know? He could still play a tune on that thing? Looked like an
oversized burned poptart.
If you want to see the battle scars on my dulcimer, hunt me down at
Evart. The bottom of it has a long, jagged scar and the tune block has
lots of dried bubbled glue. But that dulcimer stays in tune better
than any I've seen. Two years ago I tuned it once between Thurs and
Sun at Evart. It goes kind of funny late at night when it's damp but
by morning it's back to normal on its own and raring to go. Amazing.
I've since had Bill build an 18/17 that I play most of the time and I
have another 12/11 that nearly identical to my old one, I have to
admit, I'm not as comfortable taking that old one out all the time, I
just don't want it to get to a day where I can't play it. I know what
Bill said, but I'm still scared. It wasn't just the horrible heat and
humidity, it had had years of snow and sap and rain and wind and God
knows what--when I was young and stupid and took it everywhere no
matter what. (maybe that's how I got all those gigs in those days--I
took the leftovers from the really good players who knew not to take
their dulcimer out in the weather!!! LOL)
AAAAh the memories. I can't wait till Evart!! I'm going crazy over
here! We're actually moving back to MI sometime in the next few
months, we miss it way too much. I can't stand being this far from
music and family and friends....My current endeavor is to learn
Daydream Believer on the dulcimer since I just met someone who lives
an hour away from one of Davy Jones' residences and her daughter's 4th
grade teacher lives right next door to him, so I figure I'll play a
dulcimer rendition to make an impression!!! :-)
Posted by: Rochelle on Apr 20, 07 | 2:45 pm |
Oh, you gotta love life here in Wisconsin.
Recently I was hired to play my hammered dulcimer in a church for their
Nativity Play. It's in a small town about ten miles from here. Today was the
big day, and I was nervous as all get-out. I love to play my dulcimer; but
Christmas music isn't something I play very much of, so it's not as comfortable
for me as my other music. Plus, in the beginning, when I got the phone call for
this, I thought it was more or less background music. A few days ago, I found
out that I WAS the music for the whole Nativity. That gave me a little shock.
Plus, I had never been to this town and didn't quite know how to get there. The
directions over the phone were sketchy, more or less like this: "You get
out on 151 and head for (I swear to you I thought this was what was said)
County Trunk D. But there's some construction going on, so be careful not to
turn when you first see the sign--I don't know how long that overpass is going
to be like that, I'd hate to see you get in an accident on the way here.
Anyway, County Trunk D becomes B but closer to town be sure to follow the D
signs and then we're a very contempory new church building on S. Main
Street." OK--so the roads around here are CR or County Road with a letter.
I'm still really confused with all of them. One route I take regularly involves
V, VV and VVV. But I'm not sure about this County Trunk thing, trunk doesn't
even rhyme with road so I'm still in the dark about that. So, nervous and all,
I jumped online to see Mapquest and Google maps. Wouldn't you know it, two
different ways to get there. I went with the one closest to the phone
directions, and left really early in case I got lost.
WELL. I didn't get lost, but I did see the construction and the overpass that
was still out. It took me pretty much no time to get there, so I was REALLY
EARLY. So early that no one was at the church yet. I spent twenty minutes
driving around this little town of 1000 people and truly enjoyed myself. There
were no cars on the roads. There were some beautiful old buildings and houses
that I totally fell in love with. (In fact, what was running through my mind
was ' gee I think I could live here!') It occurred to me about that time, that
the folks in this town might be getting concerned about me being a predator or
something: I'm the only one driving around town, several times on the same
streets, slowly, in a bright red Durango. I was glad I didn't get the cops
after me....about then I headed back to the church and saw a couple of cars.
I unloaded my instrument and accessories, and a nice gentlemen came out to help
me. I found out this play was taking place in a multi-purpose room and was to
be a dinner theatre production. I set up and immediately began to play as the
people came in. The music of the dulcimer carried nicely in the room and the
folks there seemed pleased enough.
Soon the room was full of families sitting at round tables, and at a long table
at the front of the room sat the 'head family' which were the Inn Keepers of
Bethlehem. It really worked well, I played music until the Inn Keeper
inturrupted dinner (which, by the way, began around 10:45am), and then I
stopped while a piece of the play progressed. Then, dinner would continue as
did I. I found myself fairly engrossed in the play, the actors were brilliant
and the Inn Keeper's wife had an amazing singing voice. When it came time for
the guests to see Baby Jesus, they were gathered and taken outside to the
stable. I wasn't sure how long any of this would go on so I stayed inside at my
dulcimer and waited.
About this time, the three women who were running the meal/kitchen started
milling around and taking empty dishes from the tables. I overheard, "She
wants us to just leave the food out, the people are supposed to come back in
and finish eating. I really wanted to get a move on--there's a Packer's game
on, for heaven's sake!" At first I thought this woman might be trying to
sound sarcastic--until the next chimed in, "Yeah I know! I got it Tivo'd.
But man, I'd really rather see it live!" They were serious. (And so is the
Packer business in Wisconsin. I'd been shopping the weekend after Thanksgiving
at Kohl's one evening and I swear to you, there were only about four other
people in the store. I mentioned it to the cashier and she said, "yeah
well, the Packers are on!" I think all the Packer spirit here is
fabulous--I'm just not used to it, coming from Michigan. I did hear though that
today, the Packers kicked the Detroit Lion's behind!)
Soon after the guests came back in from the stable, all singing in unison, The
First Noel. It was lovely. I started playing after that until dinner was
completed, and then while people were visiting and getting ready to leave. Once
I glanced outside and saw a man giving kids pony rides. Turns out this Nativity
had live animals! As it was there was a dog laying next to me the whole time I
played, he was a simply gorgeous Austrailian Sheep Dog with blue eyes. Outside they
had a pony, goat, and a pig.
Several people had never seen a dulcimer, so that sparked a bit of
conversation. I let the children try it out and they loved it. One of the women
was really involved in music, and we talked for awhile. She helped me carry out
my stuff so she could get a business card. I apologized to her for my messed up
car. "That's okay," she answered, "Whoopie (the pig) pooped in
my car on the way to church this morning. My husband cleaned it up
though." My goodness, you don't hear that very often.
And, to top it off, it was a beautifully sunny December day. I had a wonderful
time and enjoyed the little drive back home. A truly refreshing Christmas gift,
today was.
Posted by: Rochelle on Dec 17, 06 | 4:40 pm |
Happened upon some tidbits, thought you might get a kick out of these....
Here are some facts about the1500s:
It's how we got some of the sayings and traditions
we use today!
Most people got married in June because they took
their yearly bath in May, and still smelled pretty
good by June. However, they were starting to smell,
so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the
body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a
bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot
water. The man of the house had the privilege of the
nice clean water, then all the other sons and men,
then the women and finally the children. Last of all
the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could
actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, Don't
throw the baby out with the Bath water..
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled
high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place
for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other
small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof When it
rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals
would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying .
It's raining cats and dogs.
There was nothing to stop things from falling
into the house.. This posed a real problem in the
bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up
your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and
a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection.
That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had
something other than dirt. Hence the saying, Dirt
poor. The wealthy had slate floors that would get
slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread
thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing.
As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until,
when you opened the door, it would all start
slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the
entranceway. Hence the saying a thresh hold.
(Getting quite an education, aren't you?)
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with
a big kettle that always hung over the fire. Every
day they lit the fire and added things to the pot.
They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much
meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving
leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then
start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in
it that had been there for quite a while. Hence the
rhyme, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas
porridge in the pot nine days old..
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made
them feel quite special. When visitors came over,
they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a
sign of wealth that a man could, bring home the
bacon. They would cut off a little to share with
guests and would all sit around and chew the fat..
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food
with high acid content caused some of the lead to
leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death.
This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the
next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered
poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers
got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the
middle, and guests got the top, or the upper crust.
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The
combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out
for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road
would take them for dead and prepare them for
burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for
a couple of days and the family would gather around
and eat and drink and wait and see if they would
wake up. Hence the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks
started running out of places to bury people. So
they would dig up coffins and would take the bones
to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening
these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to
have scratch marks on the inside and they realized
they had been burying people alive. So they would
tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it
through the coffin and up through th e ground and
tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in
the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to
listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved
by the bell or was considered a ..dead ringer..
And that's the truth...Now, whoever said History
was boring ! ! !
Posted by: Rochelle on Dec 07, 06 | 8:07 pm |
I am flying high tonight. And I'm quite sure it has more to do with the
music involvement than it does the four or five cups of joe I've had
today....(after four all-nighter's with a sick toddler, coffee has made it's
way to the top of the food group.)
A few days ago I received a phone call from a board member of FAMA (Fondy
Acoustic Music Alliance) who reminded me of the open mic going on at the local
college coffee house, and then he asked if I wanted to play there. (Here's my
leg, pull it.) I was thrilled! Thanks be to God, my husband was off that night
and agreed to stay with the children so I could go. (Still living life without
babysitters here in Wisconsin.)
I had never been to the college so I was a little lost, though at least I knew
where to park. I was keen enough to bring a cart, heaven knows I hate hauling
my big dulcimer, chair, bags and stand across a campus. Luckily, when I got out
of my truck, I saw coming towards me two instrument cases : A banjo and guitar
(turned out to be a dobro.) The musician was nice enough to point me to the
door.
I loaded up and wheeled it all in, and found a lovely setting for a coffee
house. It was a completely round building with windows almost all around,
except for the stage and counter area. I got there just as open mic time was
beginning, and soon found out where the leader of the pack (so to speak) was
standing. I've never met any of these people! They all were very nice and I was
put I think fourth on the list. I had so much fun chatting with some other
musicians and making informal future plans to jam or perform together! I really
wasn't in the mood for more hot coffee so I ordered a cold chai, with caramel
and whipped cream. Yummy little pick-me-up before my stage time.
I have been so busy and exhausted this week with a sick kid that, not only
didn't I practice, but I didn't even bother to write a tune list. Not the best
planning but being I had just jammed on Sunday I felt I could handle 10 minutes
in front of a crowd, most of which had never seen or heard of a dulcimer
before. I ended up playing four or five tunes and making a couple corny jokes,
and it all went well. Would've loved a guitar back-up but maybe next time.
After that I settled into an overstuffed chair to hear the rest of the show.
Holy cow, there is some talent in this town! There was folk and bluegrass and
accapella. One duo played guitar and cello and it was AMAZING. The bluegrass
group had the dobro and banjo guy in it, and he later talked to me and reminded
me that his wife had phoned for lessons right after I moved here, and how
disappointed she'd be when she heard that she missed hearing my dulcimer. I
hope she calls sometime so I can get her going on her dulcimer. Another member
of that band hails from Pontiac, MI and we shared some chit-chat over the
Tigers.
Boy. Two awesome music experiences in one week. And you know? There's a jam and
open mic downtown with this same group on Sunday! I hope I can go. I mentioned
it to my husband when I first got home and he was less than enthusiastic about
my sudden plans, but maybe as the day grows closer I can talk him into it. Or
starve him out. Whichever works best....
So, hopefully I get some kind of sleep tonight, but if I don't, at least I can
rock the baby and daydream about the fun I had this evening. So refreshing. Jam
O
Posted by: Rochelle on Nov 08, 06 | 8:36 pm |
Brace yourselves: I've been jamming in Wisconsin!!!
Thanks to Kris Wheeland (she's the one at Evart this year that everyone pointed
out to me as soon as I got there --'have you met kris?' 'have you met that gal
from WI?' too funny.) who organized the event, the first ever dulcimer
gathering, in Wautoma. It's officially the first Sunday of every month. It was
about an hour drive from me, and an enjoyable one. I always look forward to
going out of town for something so I can see a bit more of my new home state.
Several miles through farmland and really fragrant manure, and weaving in and
out of little towns (one called Redgranite, if my memory serves me well.) and
finally arriving in Wautoma--a nice town full of pine trees. I've never been to
a town with so many pine trees. Just driving in, even with closed car windows,
the wondeful pine scent filled the air. The hotel that we met at was also very
nice, a wonderful lodge-feel great room welcomed you, including fireplace and a
huge quilt on the wall. We met in a conferance room.
I arrived a few minutes early and was pleasantly greeted by a handful of other
dulcimers! Total I think there were seven hammered dulcimers, one mountain, a
mandolin and a guitar. Seven dulcimers! In one room! Ahhhhhhhhhh. Music to my
ears (no pun intended.) Some of the people I'd already met, but a few were new
to me. One of them invited us to an Irish session in New London on the night of
St. Patrick's Day. It was amazing to me how well they played having learned
alone and rarely if ever played with any other dulcimers.
Before the jam, folks emailed songs they liked to play and also wanted to
learn. The list was then circulated and by the time the jam happened, there
were several copies of several tunes available. I was nervous, really hoping
we'd all find some common tunes to play. And you know what? We did! I was so
pleased. Off the top of my head, here are the tunes we played (should've
written them down!) Road to Lizdoonvarna, Liberty, Whiskey, Flowers of
Edinburgh, Soldier's Joy, Staten Island Hornpipe, Harvest Home, Missouri, George
Brabazon, Fanny Po'er, Old Joe Clark, Humors of Winter(I didn't know that one
but cool tune!), Westphailia, Southwind, Irish Washerperson, and there were a
handful of others that at this midnight hour I can't recall (I'm up all night
with a sick toddler!) After several people left, Kris and I bounced tunes back
and forth from Michigan--she's from there and we know the same circles of tunes
AND people, how refreshing! And luckily we had Steve (from Appleton) on guitar
to back us up, and Dick from my town with both of his dulcimers as well. I was
bummed that I had to take off before they headed out for dinner, but with
Jillian sick I didn't have much of a choice.
Overall it was fantastic, and a much needed outlet. I look forward to next
month, and any other opportunities to play with them.
I had jokingly told Kris on the phone before this was planned, that we should
band together and start a Wisconsin dulcimer revolution, since pretty much no
one has ever seen one around here. She took that and ran with it and the
comment now is sort of becoming a motto.
You know, you can take the girl out of the music, but you can't take music out
of the girl. It's so energizing to have had such a wonderful afternoon full of
music and friends. (And there was chocolate involved.....)
Posted by: Rochelle on Nov 05, 06 | 8:56 pm |
It's been an enjoyable week, as my parents came in from Michigan last
Wednesday. My son's tenth birthday was extended from Monday to the middle of
the week, so we could celebrate with his grandparents. Unfortunately it was
cold and raining the entire visit, so sightseeing outside really wasn't an
option, especially with three kids who had colds. But, even though we missed
out on apple orchards, hiking, and the brat fry scene, we did manage to find
the local shopping and fabulous Mexican food--and wonderful time together.
A couple of days into the visit, I got a phone call from the local Christian
bookstore that also houses a coffee shop. Their Saturday morning entertainment
cancelled and they invited me to play dulcimer. I thought that was a huge risk
for them, secretly, since they'd never heard me play. But I was more than
thrilled to have a reason to play music, especially when Grandma was here to
keep the children. And when Saturday came, it was actually exciting to get out
a fancy dress and hit the road. It was only for an hour, but it was something
I've missed doing ever since I moved here.
The coffee shop is cozy, and at 10:30am there weren't many patrons. But the
dulcimer music carried throughout the shop and the clerks seemed to really
enjoy it. I couldn't believe how the time passed--I actually was surprised to
find out I'd played 15 minutes longer than planned (no one complained! And I
wasn't watching the clock...) Before I left, I dropped off a few cards and a
woman who was shopping there asked for my number, she's a piano and keyboard
player who is "always on the lookout for new and unique music." I'm
not sure for what, but it could bring more adventure. And the owner of the shop
would like me back for Christmas time.
Music is like an old friend. It comforts without words. Brings back old
memories, and makes you feel whole again. Even though it was cold and pouring
rain that day, I left the shop feeling revived and refreshed.
Anyone up for jamming?
Posted by: Rochelle on Oct 23, 06 | 12:28 pm |
My son is continuing his violin lessons through school, every Friday. He
takes his violin and his full backpack and slings both onto his back and over
his shoulders, and bikes all the way there, even though I offer to drive him. I
think he'd take that violin to bed, to the store, in the shower, if I let him.
And I remember feeling same way about my dulcimer--I remember the early days at
Evart and at Wheatland, sharing my little tent with my dulcimer. Like it had a
personality or something.
PJ's Strings teacher has instructed him to practice three times a week. When I
asked him how lessons were going, he seemed a bit disappointed. I asked him
why, and he said it just wasn't much fun. He sounds like his mother, needing
the instant gratification--going from not playing at all to playing Symphony #4
in Bminor on stage somewhere. When I helped him practice last night, the only
thing he had to go over was the way to stand and hold the thing, which included
placing the violin under his chin and on his shoulder and leaving it balance
there for 30 seconds! The position was painful for him and was difficult. I
couldn't voice what was going through my mind, but I was thinking, "What
the heck? That's no fun, why can't you just learn to play this thing?" So
secretly, I"m no help! I remember my friend Susan taking formal harp
lessons and complaining about the same thing--holding her pinky fingers up and
sitting properly, and what does that have to do with playing??
But overall, I understand there is more to playing instruments than just the
music, and of course I would rather PJ learn the proper positions now than
having to relearn it later. I'm proud of him. And I know someday when he licks
his first tune, he will beam proudly as I shed tears. (At least I hope it goes
that way, instead of him throwing the thing through the window in frustration
and me stunned.)
I did begin dulcimer lessons the other day and met two new players. Before they
arrived, I was cleaning the playroom in the basement and turning into a lesson
room, while my husband chased the girl. Soon I heard the piano, Jillian was
playing away. Then I heard something else and had to run up the stairs to peek
around the corner--and there was Daddy playing the bass to his little girl's
piano. It was so cute. She thought she was in a real jam, I think. Not long
after that, Daddy got out the banjo and strummed away, and then he got out the
1/4 size fiddle that I found for Jillian on ebay, and he bowed that a few
times. I think the Daddy was missing music, just a little bit. I wish he'd get
out that bass more often. But his work schedule isn't any good, and beyond
that, by the time he has free time at home, he becomes a bump on a log and
rarely moves. But at least for a few minutes, he let Jillian think music
jamming was all the rage.
And Ethan isn't far behind either, he's been asking for a violin as well. I
told him he could take lessons in fifth grade, like his brother--but between
you and I, the first moment I see an ability to sit still long enough to focus,
I'll make sure there's some kind of music coming his way...
Music In My Mother's House
By Stuart Stotts (copyright 1985, Stuart Stotts)
Arranged by J. David Moore
There were wind chimes in the window, bells inside the clock,
an organ in the corner, tunes in the music box.
We sang while we were cooking, or working in the yard,
we sang although our lives were really hard.
There was music in my mother's house,
there was music all around,
there was music in my mother's house,
and my heart still feels full with the sound.
She taught us all piano, but my sister had the ear;
She could play the harmony to any tune she'd hear.
Now I don't have much talent, but I always loved to play,
and I guess I will until my dying day.
There was music in my mother's house,
there was music all around,
there was music in my mother's house,
and my heart still feels full with the sound.
Those days come back so clearly, although I'm far away.
She gave me the kind of gift I love to give away.
And when my mother died, and she'd sung her last song,
we sat in the living room singing all night long.
Singing la la la la la
Singing the front porch songs, singing the old torch songs,
singing the hymns to send her home.
There was music in my mother's house,
there was music all around,
there was music in my mother's house,
and my heart still feels full with the sound.
Posted by: Rochelle on Oct 08, 06 | 6:17 am |
You might be a Wisconsinite if...
...you refer to a drinking fountain as the bubbler.
..."vacation" means going 'up nort' to Crivitz for the weekend.
...you measure distance in hours.
...you know several people who have hit deer more than once.
You might be a Wisconsinite if...
...you often switch from "heat" to "A/C" and back again. In
the same day.
...you use a down comforter and gloves in the summer.
...you drive at 65mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without
flinching.
...you see people wearing hunting clothes at social events.
You might be a Wisconsinite if...
...you install security lights on your house and garage and leave both
unlocked.
...you think of the major food groups as cheese, venison, beer, fish and
berries.
...you carry jumper cables in your car and your girlfriend knows how to use
them.
...there are 7 empty cars running in the parking lot at the Fleet Farm at any
given time.
Posted by: Rochelle on Oct 01, 06 | 3:02 pm |
On Friday I went to pick up my children from school.
My nine year old was not alone.
He was accompanied by a sleek, black VIOLIN CASE. Complete with violin and bow.
And book. And the most awesome motivated attitude I've seen yet.
This kid is 110% dedicated to learning this thing. What a fabulous school
district for offering the opportunity to fifth graders! Of course, he wants to
pull the thing out right in the car, but once he did, his two year old little
sister began to scream and chant incessantly: VIO-LIN! VIO-LIN! ME! VIOLIN!
Amazing enough that she knows its name, at her age--but we're huge fans of Baby
Einstein videos and she's learned instruments, colors, shapes, it's amazing. So
PJ jumps to the third row hoping she wouldn't notice HIM PLAYING THE THING. The
crying continues, and of course this is the day my other son decides to drag
his feet and stay in class chatting with another kid.
Once home, PJ ran to his room and shut the door so he could bond with his new
(rented) instrument. I jumped on ebay and found a 1/4 size violin and bow for
the girl. $30 with shipping! Small crack, but stays in tune, says the mom of
two violin students. I could care less, it's like the real thing for a 2 year
old to play with. At least we can rest easy while PJ practices, she can practice
too.
Over the last two days I've noticed that my son has fiddle blood. He lays back
in a recliner chair with this violin, plucking away, even bowing at times.
Fairly clear as well, I must say. I'm not sure what his strings teacher would
say about the half-laying position though, I tried to get him to sit in a chair
without arms and it was like pulling hen's teeth! So far all he's supposed to
do is memorize the parts of the instrument and practice Open D plucking. He
really is drooling to play this thing, and I think it's fabulous. I'm having
visions of a young man and his fiddle jogging around Evart, in the future!! I'm
only bummed I didn't start him earlier, but I know he probably wasn't ready. I
think the peer pressure of having four other fifth grade string students is
helping, it's becoming a 'cool thing to do.' Fine with me. Whatever works. (Ask
me about the bribery it took last year to get him into choir! I'm not ashamed
at all about that.)
So, onward learning! I'm sure he'll come to a venue near you (in about 10
years...)
Posted by: Rochelle on Sep 24, 06 | 6:16 am |
I am blessed to live in a state where God has granted four wonderful
seasons. Thankfully, I grew up that way, as well. And this morning, I am
greeted by 39 degrees and frost on the pumpkins!
Walking my children to school over the last two weeks has been so enjoyable. I
can't say I'm a big fan of the oven-type heat of summer, with humidity to boot.
So over the last few weeks, watching and feeling the temperature drop was pure
relief. On the way to school, I've been able to see the trees slowly start to
change their color, and a few leaves fall to the ground. Mind you, most leaves
are still green and still hanging on--but the few yellows and reds and the few
on the ground are excited about the season change like me. There is one house
with some huge trees in the front yard whose leaves have completely covered the
ground. Huge, crispy leaves. I love walking through their yard every day,
crunch, crunch, crunch.
Yesterday I purchased a few pots of Mums in orange, yellow and red; and four
medium sized pumpkins to adorn my front porch. October is right around the
corner (ok, so there is one glitch, I turn a year older then too, that I'm not
as thrilled about...) - and though I can't believe how fast the year has gone
(again) I am enjoying these moments. Can't say I'm ready for snow, and a few Wisconsites
have shared that snow on Halloween is not uncommon--so I'm going to stop and
smell the Mums (so to speak) as long as I can, relax, and be grateful I get
this chance to see Nature at its finest. All too soon we'll have to snuggle up
in our wool sweaters watching the twinkling Christmas lights ( I love that too,
in its right time--not necessarily right across the store aisle from goblins
and ghosts and candy, though.)
I hope you all have a wonderful Autumn. Don't curse too much while raking...and
don't forget to jump out of the rat race of life long enough to sip some mulled
cider, pick some fresh apples and make some Fall memories with friends and
family. If you can't find that atmosphere around you, please come stay with me
a spell, here in Wisconsin. The door is always open and I'll leave the light on
for you....
Posted by: Rochelle on Sep 21, 06 | 5:32 am |
|
|
The Wheatland music festival is this coming weekend and it's really dawning
on me that I won't be able to make it this year. It's been several years since
I had to miss a Wheatland. But we just came home from Michigan this past
Sunday, and with the price of gas and babysitters, I just don't think it makes
sense to turn around and go right back. I've been getting really tired of the
8-14 hour drive the last few trips as it is. If Chicago wasn't smack in the
middle of the trip, it would be much more enjoyable. And with a family of five,
the cost of the ferry seems a little excessive.
Moving to Wisconsin had its comforts, one of which was the "short drive
back to Michigan." Especially in comparison to my sister's jaunt from
North Carolina (around 13 hours.) I guess driving back and forth twice or more
a month is what's been exhausting for me. I've been told I should take into
account how emotionally exhausting this whole relocation has been for me, but
true to habits, I have again been trying to convince my body that yes indeed, I
am Superwoman.
But alas, as wild and crazy and fun as Wheatland sounds, I just can't conjer up
the energy to drag everyone back over there. I will have to either stay very
busy and not think about the wonderful memories over the weekend, or, spend
some reflection time with my dulcimer and photo albums and be thankful I had so
many years there. (Well, not to say I won't make it next year, gosh, this is
starting to sound more like a eulogy!)
In other news, the boys have started school here in Wisconsin. I was looking
forward to the routine of school for sure. The school is so close, it's only a
few minute bike ride or walk. The boys had wanted to bike it, but the night
before school, my eight year old got in quite a bit of trouble and it occurred
to me that there is indeed a maturity difference between third and fifth
graders, and I opted to walk him to school every day instead, much to his
chagrin. It was sad for me to see my fifth grader just take off on his bike
that morning as it was, how fleeting is the dependence of childhood. My boys
are growing up. And, it's a nice walk with Ethan, and Jillian in the stroller,
to and from school. I'm sure cold weather isn't that far off as it is, and
already we see leaves changing color and falling around here. I love to be out
in the Fall. It's my favorite time of year. Ethan and I have some nice
conversations together on these walks without any "brother distraction."
I think it will be good for our relationship as a whole. Ethan is my "wild
child" and I'll take any peaceful, enjoyable moments with him that I can
get my hands on.
So far they like the new school, and being this is only the second day, they
still have many new friends to meet. Ethan is used to having droves of friends,
so this is a bit of a culture shock for him, not knowing anyone. So much so
that he came down with hives last night and spent quite a bit of time itching.
Onward with Benedryl. Poor kid. Overall I think we are pleased with the
teachers and staff, and all that is offered to the children here. I'm looking
foward to PJ's cello lessons for sure.
Though I still haven't spent any time with people around here, someone did drop
by yesterday, of course I wasn't here to enjoy any visit. I had run to the
store with two of the kids, and left one here with the dad. A neighbor and her
son came to the door to offer handfuls of tomatoes from her garden, and PJ
answered the door. It was so nice of them, and I was sorry I wasn't here to
properly thank them. And do you know, we of course have no idea where they came
from, so other than going door-to-door, I'll have to hope I run into her at
some point and she reveals she's the mystery tomato woman.
I'm looking forward to a visit from some Michigan music friends in a couple
weeks for sure. I am really missing the music. I know discovering babysitters
and freetime around here is right around the corner, so I can indeed tap into
the local scene, but until then, importing friends sounds divine!
Also, in case any of you are interested, I do have another website and
occasional blog. You can find it at http://360.yahoo.com/dulcimatik .
Hope to see you soon!
Posted by: Rochelle on Sep 06, 06 | 8:15 am |
I've discovered part of the secret as to why the state of Wisconsin is so
clean.
While driving on an on-ramp to the highway, we noticed a trash can, which a
person could drive by and throw away the trash out of their car before entering
the highway. Now, it's a great idea to curb road-side trash, but how in the world
they can throw things away going at highway speed is beyond me. (We didn't try
it.)
I am still amazed at how friendly everyone is here. It truly is like going back
in time several decades. However, it is coupled with not only automated garbage
trucks, but also automated postal services. I fully expected to meet and greet
some new faces when I dropped by the post office, and instead was faced with
several closed doors and a large computer with a built-in scale.
Always an adventure!
Posted by: Rochelle on Aug 25, 06 | 9:40 am |
In the wise words of Columbus, I HAVE LANDED.
Well, I don't know for sure if Columbus said those words, but I can imagine
that at one point they at least ran through his mind. And, last night, I was
able to finally say them to myself.
You know how they say, you don't know how much you love something until it's
gone? I of course always knew how much I loved my music life, jamming and
enjoying other concerts and shows. I guess what I didn't realize was what it
did to my psyche. The quality of life and spirit it gave. Moving here, being
engulfed in the transition and unpacking and settling, and not really knowing
anyone other than immediate family,--I didn't have any outlet. And I was truly
falling into some rut of depression over the last couple of weeks.
It hasn't helped that the horrid heat of summer kept me inside the A/C. What
drew me to this house was partially the neighborhood--a nice, quiet sub that we
could spend time out in, safely. And with the thick humidity, I just haven't
had a chance to enjoy it much at all. After awhile, even with the weather gradually
lifting, I've found myself shrinking away from the front door. I knew in the
back of my mind that wasn't a healthy sign, but it was like I didn't have the
power to change it. I really hit bottom--and knew it--yesterday, when I took
Jillian to Walmart to pick up a few groceries. Out of the corner of my eye I
thought I noticed a neighbor I'd seen out on the street that I hadn't
officially met--and it would've been a perfect opportunity to introduce myself,
and instead, I felt myself hyperventalating and hiding in another aisle. That
is SO not like me. At that moment I was actually scared of MYSELF. What was
happening to me?
I've always seen myself as an overly-adventurous soul--I'll try almost anything
at least once...love to meet new people. try new things, go anywhere. Jump
right in with both feet, I always say. But since I've moved here, i don't
really know who I am. And it wasn't clicking WHY. I literally considered
packing up the kids while my husband was at work yesterday, and moving back to
my mom's house in Michigan. I ALMOST RIPPED APART MY FAMILY IN A SECOND OF
DESPERATION.
Coincidentally, my husband had a couple weekend days off, and I heard from this
Appleton email-friend that I met on the dulcimers group list that he too was
free. He's tapped into the local coffee house and live music scene and offered
to introduce me. I was more than willing. I got ready to go, set Daddy up with
the kids, and took off. Now, I will admit--even once behind the wheel, it did
enter my mind to just call and cancel and go shopping instead out of fear.
Didn't help that my good friend Jen was worried sick that I'd been invited by a
psycho-serial-killer--afterall, everyone knows you can find all kinds of scum
on the internet. I jokingly told her, "Yes, you're right--if I was a
serial killer I too would go seeking hammered dulcimer players." But she
really was concerned and made me promise to phone her on the way home--even
after she Google'd the guy's address and phone number to make sure it at least
matched his name. She even wanted me to phone her from his driveway to read her
his license plate over the phone before I went to his door, but I didn't go
that far.
Meeting him was very refreshing, a fellow musician. Right away he showed me the
dulcimer his late Grandpa had built for him, which sat in the living room.
Beautiful and very unique, with large music notes as sound holes. It had a
surprisingly vibrant and warm tone to it, as he played Amazing Grace. What a
sweet family heritage, to have dulcimer in the blood. He then decided to
introduce me to his neighbor, who plays guitar and who's parents hail from
Ireland. (!!!) We had a very nice chat, standing at the end of his driveway. I
learned that Tom did Irish Step dancing till age 14 when it was required to
wear a kilt--that's when he bolted. He picked up accordian after that and then
guitar, and his whole huge Irish family plays music. Any get-together, they
shove all the kitchen furniture out of the way, gather up chairs in a circle,
and have an old-time session. He even goes back to Ireland every so often. I
was so enthralled with that. I have a thick German heritage but there's not too
many folks left that we're in contact with, and my mom is an only child so our
family is very small. Tom's also lived in Chicago forever until two years ago,
when his wife got a job at the university up here teaching Music History. So
you can imagine the music involvement he's had! I've offered to be personal
maid service, shoe shiner, baggage carrier, slave--if I could go next time to
Ireland. We'll see.
Steve and I then headed to Neenah to the Jump-n-Jive Java coffee house. What an
awesome dig! Fairly new, decorated hip-ly (is that a word??). There were only
three people in there when we arrived, and no live music until Sat. night. But
I met the owner, Scott, who was awesome and offered to make me my own personal
cup o' joe by analyzing my tastes. I'm not sure what he called what he made for
me, but it was a goopey, sweet Heath-flavored espresso ice cream thing with
whipped cream, caramel and chocolate sauce. DIVINE. He promised it was less
than 2000 calories.
Wasn't long before the conversation came around to dulcimer. I happened to have
a CD in the car and offered him to hear it, and he was geeked. Steve has played
there before with a band that, he-hemm, SUCKED, and Scott was going to fire
them off of the schedule, but really knew Steve was a better musician than the
rest of the group and wanted to keep him. He looked at both of us and said,
"I have an offer for you. Why don't you two come back next Saturday night
and be my live show?"
For a moment, it was like the room was spinning and angels were singing the
Twilight Zone tune. Wasn't sure if it was the strong coffee or my adreniline
buzz from this new found outlet. Steve tends to be a bit on the quiet, shy
side, but agreed. And I normally don't take live gigs with someone I've never
played with, but what the heck? I said, "Sure! Why not??" We of
course would have to practice.
We decided to ditch the idea of visiting any more coffee shops and go back to
Steve's to practice. He nabbed the neighbor, Tom as well, and we sat down to
jam a little. I should tell you that the music involvement of Steve has been
primarily blue grass--and that's what he's introduced Tom to as well. I am as
far from playing blue grass as I am Rap on my dulcimer. Not that I don't enjoy
it, I just haven't taken any time to learn it. So it was a little like pulling
hen's teeth to find a common tune list. I'm not sure what will happen next
week. But it's all in fun and I'm looking forward to it. We jammed a bit and
then Tom left, and after a few more tunes, I hit the road too, didn't realize
it was already after eleven!
I felt like my old self when I drove away. I of course called Jen and told her
to cancel the FBI, that I was alive and well. I think between talking to her
and my mom on the way home, they both heard the 'old me' again. I was really
happy that I'd gotten out and met some new music folks.
Arriving home, my husband was tired and sick. I still don't know what kind of
sick because he ran off to bed. He doesn't exactly KNOW I have a gig next week,
just yet--but I'm almost sure he has Sat. night off. Push comes to shove, I'll
have to find a sitter--but for now, I'm going to just sit back and enjoy
feeling a little like myself again....
Posted by: Rochelle on Aug 19, 06 | 5:28 am |
Why, Why, Why
Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are
getting weak?
Why do banks charge a fee on "insufficient funds" when they know
there is not enough?
Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but
check when you say the paint is wet?
Why doesn't glue stick to the bottle?
Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?
Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard?
Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a
revolver at him?
Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Whose idea was it to put an "S" in the word "lisp"?
If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?
Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always
white?
Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?
Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator with hopes that something
new to eat will have materialized?
Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum
cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the
vacuum one more chance?
Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end on your first try?
How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures?
When we are in the supermarket and someone rams our ankle with a shopping cart
then apologizes for doing so, why do we say, "It's all right?" Well,
it isn't all right, so why don't we say, "That hurt, you stupid
idiot?"
Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something that's falling off the
table you always
manage to knock something else over?
In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as it was in summer when we
complained about the heat?
How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?
And my FAVORITE......
The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four persons is suffering
from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends -- if
they're okay, then it's you...
Posted by: Rochelle on Jul 23, 06 | 8:24 pm |
Well, there's nothing more than smashed eggs to remind you that you're home
from Evart. Back to reality.
I just returned from Appleton, about a 45 min. drive north of here, because
they have a Sam's Club and a TJ Maxx, and we don't. I took Jillian shopping
with me, and normally she's a really good little buddy. But, all good things
come to a crashing end at some point, and I guess I shopped her out. While
leaving Sam's Club, where the checker at the door has to match up your receipt
to all the goodies in your cart, I wasn't paying enough attention to my
daughter. Because the next thing I knew, she'd leaned over the back of her little
spot in the front of the cart, and grabbed a carton of 18 eggs, gleefully
calling, "Egg-ies! Egg-ies!" and WAMM! She dropped them. They all
tumbled out of the carton onto the rest of my groceries while the checker guy
and customers behind me stared in horror. Of course I had to laugh, that was a
first. Neither of my sons ever did that before when they were little. PJ tried
to carry in a gallon of orange juice and dropped it in the middle of the
kitchen floor and watched it explode, but nope, no smashed eggs in a store. But
all of this taught me something: Wisconsin hens are very strong. Or, at least
the eggs are. From 18, only three broke! Amazing. Luckily, another clerk came
to help me and brought me more eggs. All of that adventure after I nearly got lost
trying to find the place. Oh well, at least we had great steaks for dinner once
I got home....
As far as the dulcimer festival went, it was in itself a miracle that I got to
go at all. My girlfriend came through for me (I hired her and paid the big bucks,
you know it's not that easy to come up with a price to match the value of your
sanity.) I drove from Wisconsin clear over to Port Huron on the east side of
Michigan to drop the kids off, then back northwest to Evart. But, after several
ten hour drives in four weeks, the three hours from PH to Evart was a spit!
Fastest I'd ever gotten there, or so it seemed.
I arrived on Thursday afternoon, and camped right in front of Doc's groovy new
red school bus/camper. I couldn't manage to find my old little tent so the
night before I left, I went to the store and bought another one. It's somehow
becoming a weird tradition to bring a brand-spankin-new tent every year. Sadly
I had no shade so every morning I awoke to the sound of my skin sizzling in the
90 degree baking sun and humidity. Which brings me to another point: Boy the
heat was awful! I felt as if I was running on low batteries the entire time. I
used my favorite straw hat for shade but still felt very wilted. Who am I
kidding? I walked around feeling like I looked like road kill. Which isn't the
best impression to bestow on people you're meeting for the first time. I was
lucky to meet so many new-to-me faces, and surprised to find how much about me
they all knew (RE: my blog!) A little daunting. I had to really work hard to
remember how much I've spilled in the last year!
One of my favorite new-person moments: I was sitting on a bench in the food
area enjoying an overstuffed bratwurst complete with onions and drippy ketchup,
again, while smoldering in the heat...two of my friends were gabbing beside me.
Soon a very well dressed businessman walked near us and stood. He looked as if
he were waiting to speak to someone but when asked simply answered, "No
bother, I can wait." So, I kept inhaling this sinful brat. Not long after,
one of my friends left, and this man walked up to the other and said, "Are
you Rochelle DeAnda?" to which she motioned towards me, (the road-kill
appearing, overheated brat-sucker that I'd become) and said, "No, THAT'S
Rochelle." Have you ever tried to swallow an entire unchewed bite of brat
and regain all poise and integrity within 2.5 seconds? Didn't think so.
Wouldn't you know it, it was the mayor of Evart! Boy was I in shock. I guess
he'd asked Sharon where he could find me and she said that someone had
mentioned that I was sitting over there eating and I was wearing a hat.
Amazing.
Speaking of new people, my sister-in-law told me that a teacher friend would be
at Evart this year, and she only recently got her first dulcimer. "A Tom
Thumb dulcimer," my sister-in-law said, matter-of-factly. You can imagine
how excited I was to share that bit of news with Rick Thum (the real maker.) In
the wee hours of the morning at some point, Rick wandered in to chat. I told
him about the Tom Thumb comment and that I wanted to see his new line of mini
dulcimers. Laughing, he shared a story of his own: Turns out, his father's name
is Joe Thum, and his grandfather's name is Joe Thum. His father had a best
friend by the name of (brace yourselves) Joe Nothum. The three of them would
often go fishing together, and spend one evening getting a little tipsy. Rick
used to wonder what would happen if they got stopped by the cops on their way
home from drinking. "Let me see your IDs. Hmmm. Says here, Joe Thum. Hey,
the next one says, Joe Thum. Now, this other one better not be...What? JOE
NOTHUM??" Boy did we laugh over that!
I really felt though that I missed more than half of the festival, walking
around in my overheated stupor. Thankfully Sharon and John had a blow up kiddie
pool at the rest area (now I lovingly call it "the lounge") and in
the baking sun, many of us spent hours soaking our feet in freezing cold water.
You know what? Sitting in the lounge with your feet in a pool, you get just as
much gossip as if you were sitting in a bar....of course I'm not telling
anything I heard there...nosireeeee (and it had NOTHING to do with ebay or half
naked buff window washing men.)
Another interesting point, as soon as I arrived, anytime I ran into someone I knew,
they'd say, "Hey, I found someone for you to meet from Wisconsin," or
"Did you meet Chris from Wisconsin?" The handful of Wisconsinites I
think are now fairly famous in Michigan! I was thrilled to meet fellow
musicians that live close by to my new house. I'm looking forward to getting
together with them all.
After the sun went down, jamming started up and that of course is a blast. I
was standing at the lounge, and daydreaming, and I could've sworn that I saw
Jeff and Gloria Allen coming up the road. I looked. And looked again. And
squinted. And even then, figured the heat had gotten to me and I was
hallucinating. Sure enough, Friday evening, they arrived just in time to visit
and jam! Jeff wasn't going to be able to go because he'd gotten a bad infection
and needed surgery. But nothing could hold him back! Good thing, too because I
hadn't figured out how to set up a shrine in the middle of the jams with a sign
that read JEFF. It was so good to see them!
So, speaking of jamming: What is it with people who can play wonderful music
but can't hear a thing? One really neat tune was playing that I had never
heard. I looked at Denise and said, "What's this tune?" And I heard
her say, "Dad's Gestapo." I yelped, "Dad's Gestapo??" of
course she was laughing and yelling, "No! Stan's Hambo!"
Not too many hours later, a few of us were left jamming, and my mom and some
friends were hanging out listening and chatting. A nice-smelling man came in
with an instrument that looked like a mandolin that had been thrown in the
dryer. It had a long neck but a really really little shrunken head. My mom is a
sucker for perfumes so I guess they got to talking about it. He went out to his
car and got the little sample, and my mom tried it out. She walked around the
jam and said, "Do you like to smell clowns?" Well, that's what WE
heard. And laughed, and laughed and laughed. She of course was talking about
smelling COLOGNE. Later, four of them walked away out of the barn and I looked
at Denise and said, "Oh. Looks like they're going Clown-Sniffing."
(Guess you had to be there, overtired at 3am.) Sometime you MUST ask Denise
about her friend, Alisa. Really. Ask her.
Earlier on, a guy was sitting a little behind me, playing his dulcimer. My
parents were sitting behind him, and noticed the back of his shirt. Soon, Gail
came to take a break and read the back of his shirt, too. "Mid-Michigan
Pregnancy Centers" with a list of MI towns. Gail, sobering, asked the guy,
"Hey, how long have you been pregnant?" He turned and solemnly
answered, "Two years." Of course they all busted out laughing. He
then relayed that he had heard her ask, "How long have you been
PLAYING?" not, pregnant. After sharing the chuckle, he reached into his
wallet and got out his license to verify his unbelievable last name: Mom. This
guy's real name is Jeff Mom. And, to top it off, he's a TEACHER!!! Every fall,
he has to write on the board, "Mr. Mom." He shared that he likes to
tell people that his wife became a Mom on their wedding day! (Lucky for me, he
has a musician friend who lives in my neck of the woods in Appleton!! Yup, the
world keeps on getting smaller!)
And, for the record, I have made my peace with Jim McKinney, the one who was
responsible for giving me Benedryl last year. He let me cut in line this year
for the Hammer Toss. All is back to normal now. Well, except for the fact that
on Sunday, I was engaged in a conversation with Denise and didn't notice he and
Tommy walk up. All I heard was Jim calling my name, to which I looked up, and
of course, got captured by a camera. Deer in Headlights, for sure. Sweetly he
retook the shot of Tommy and I. (Lucky Lucky, Jim!)
Speaking of the Hammer Toss, Congratulations are in order for Kathy Cook! She
was the winner and I can't imagine her glowing any more brightly. Her first
Evart was this year and talk about having the perfect winner! She even got to
go on a victory tour in Sharon's golf cart!!
It is always sad to leave the festival. It was strange this year for me because
I was so overstressed and overtired to begin with. Having moved and trying to
get settled, I really feel misplaced. It was difficult to stay focused on music
this year, but so wonderful a reminder of how many very special friends I have.
I really miss everyone, though most of you I only see once or twice a year,
it's just like the security blanket-kind-of-feeling, knowing you're out there,
somewhere. Just so you know, you're all officially invited to Wisconsin.
Anytime you want to visit a little of my chaotic life, please, you are more
than welcome!
Upon returning to Port Huron to pick up the children, I found another surprise.
My insane girlfriend had taken all five kids (my three and her two and she's
pregnant) to the store--to get my children's photos taken since I don't ever
have the time or patience to do so! Can you imagine? What a wonderful surprise.
Since I'd only gotten less than ten hours sleep in four days, I opted to camp
out at my mom's house before venturing back to Wisconsin. I usually don't make
myself do too much during Evart Recovery, but once I got home here, I couldn't
help but to buy paint and redo our big bathroom. It turned out fabulous, but I
feel horribly sore from standing on my head to paint behind the toilet having
little energy to do so!
Speaking of lack of energy, I'm about to nod off. More memories coming to a
screen near you soon!
Posted by: Rochelle on Jul 21, 06 | 10:02 pm |
I returned to Wisconsin on the 4th of July as I had been visiting my neice
and her newborn baby boy (which makes me the Great Aunt, yes, Moi, the
fabulous...) Driving into my sub I saw cute little flags in front of everyone's
house, near the street. I thought it must be a subdivision thing, it really
looked nice, too. Later I realized, by driving through town, that every house
in Fond du Lac had a little flag. Now that it's after the fourth, our little
flag is still out there, I'm not sure if someone is coming to pick them all up,
or what.
I also made a trip downtown to City Hall, to pay for our 90 gallon trash can.
As you recall from previous posts, we've had some confusion about the trash
around here. In Michigan where we come from, we can just go to the store and
buy as many Rubbermaid trash cans as we like, and fill them and put them to the
curb, alongside old furniture and extra bags of junk. All of it gets taken.
Here, everyone has two trash cans: One is for recycles, the other for regular
trash. No one ever has extra. It all looks very clean and uniform. Before we
found out that we had to order a can from the city, we just opted to keep our
trash and then drive it down to the dump, rather than cause a scene or offend the
neighbors. Well, after I ordered it, the new trash can was delivered the very
next day, and placed by my garage door. It came with instructions, both in
Spanish, and English. Turns out our city has an automated garbage truck that
picks up, dumps, and returns the can to your curb. These instructions told
where to place your can, how full it can be, etc. It also revealed that our
trash can has a serial number. That serial number is recorded on our property
deed. Pretty fancy, I thought. Strange thing is, our can had mistakenly been
sent with two sets of instructions, one of which had an insert that said our
trash day has changed from Tues to Thurs. Now, what would the neighbors think
if we put our new can out for Thurs? Or, did it mean that with us moving here,
we screwed up the balance of trash, so now the whole subdivision would be
changing to Thurs? Boy would there be whispers then. "Hey, those are the
trash-keeping people from Michigan that got our Tuesday taken away...."
"Yeah, did you notice, they were here for three weeks and never had any
trash on the curb? What did they do with it?" Luckily, we Michigan people
are smarter than that, we've camped out by the window on Monday night to make
sure all the others took their cans out in the evening. Sure enough. It's still
Tuesday Trash Day.
It's still a strange thing that there aren't any squirrels. Our climate isn't
any different from Michigan, at least so far, so where did they go? I know we
have a lot of rabbits, but the last time I checked the food chain, rabbits
weren't necessarily ABOVE squirrels, so I don't think there's any connection.
We did have a huge pheasant fly right in front of our car on a country drive
the other day, though, and that was beautiful. (And no, pheasants don't take
away squirrels either. At least I didn't think they did...)
With all the moving and packing and unpacking and lack of sleep and stress, I'm
not willing to trust myself in conversations anymore. My mom was here visiting
and we were discussing whether it's practical to order beverages in restaurants
because they are so expensive. To me, I'm paying for the experience, as much as
the food, and I really enjoy my Diet Coke with meals. Do you know, to quote
myself, I stated my point like this : "I have to have carbinated food with
my drinks, or I won't enjoy it."
Oy. Reminded me of the time I walked into the bank and said, "I have a
cash to check." That could've been passed off with a chuckle, but I didn't
catch it, and when the teller kept saying, "Pardon me?" I got a
little impatient and repeated the sentance three times!
There are signs all over the place that scream "This woman needs a
vacation!" Right about now, I think I have one plastered to my
forehead....
Posted by: Rochelle on Jul 10, 06 | 10:19 pm |
I'm about to head back to Michigan, for the
birth of my first grand-nephew. I will hit Chicago during rush hour, but the
alternative is the drive half the night, and I haven't had enough sleep to do
that. I decided to Google, "chicago at rush hour" and found this
wonderful educational blurb about the Windy City. Enjoy!
"Rules of Chicago! OldSchool: THE RULES of CHICAGO
First you must learn to pronounce the city name. It is Chi-ca-go, or
Cha-ca-ga depending on if you live North or South of Roosevelt Rd. We all
know that the South side is for "normal" people...cross that line to
the
North and you are in the Twilight Zone back in the 50's where there's a
bowling alley on every corner.)
Next, if your road map is more then a few weeks old, throw it out, and buy a
new one. If in Naperville and your map is one day old, then it is already
obsolete.
Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. Chicago has its own version
of traffic rules..."Close your eyes, hit the gas, and pray!" There is
no such
thing as a dangerous high-speed chase in Chicago. We all drive like that!
All directions start with, "Get on I-94" which has no beginning and
no end.
The morning rush hour is from Midnight to Noon. The evening rush hour is
from Noon to Midnight. The weekend rush hour starts on Thursday morning.
If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear ended, or possibly
shot.
When you are the first one on the starting line, count to five when the light
turns green before going to avoid crashing into all the drivers running the red
light in cross-traffic.
Construction on the Northwest Tollway is a way of life and a permanent form
of entertainment. We had sooooo much fun with that we have added 294, Elgin
- O'Hare and I-355 to the mix.
All unexplained sights are explained by the phrase, "Oh, we must be in
Cicero!"
If someone actually has their turn signal on, it is probably a factory defect
on their vehicle.
Car horns are actually the native language. They are also used by cabbies
behind you to let you know that the light will turn green in 5 seconds.
If asking directions in Cicero you must speak Spanish.
If in Bridgeport, Mandarin Chinese will be your best bet.
If you stop to ask directions on the West or South side you will need to
know Ebonics, have a death wish, or you are wearing a bulletproof vest.
A trip across town (East to West) will take a minimum of four hours,
although many North/South streets have unposted minimum speeds of 75 mph.
The minimum acceptable speed on the Dan Ryan is 95, especially if you are
driving a 10 ton waste hauler with bald tires, no tarp, and no mud flaps.
The wrought iron bars on windows near Englewood and Austin are NOT for
ornamental purposes!
The Congress expressway is our daily version of NASCAR.
The Dan Ryan is called "The Death Trap" for two reasons: Which of
those 2
words don't you understand?
It is highly advisable not to try to pet or feed those packs of wild dogs
roaming on the shoulder of the road.
If it's 100 degrees, it's the Taste Of Chicago. If it's 10 below and
snowing, it's opening day at Comiskey Park. If it's rained 6 inches in the
last hour, then the Western open Golf Classic is in the second round.
If you go to Wrigley Field, pay the $25.00 to park in "Cubs Lot".
Parking
elsewhere could cost up to $2500 for damages, towing fees, tickets, etc.
If some guy with a flag tries to get you to park in his "yard", run
him over.
And the most important thing to remember is this...if you park on a side
street side where someone has blocked off a parking space with a broom and a
kitchen chair...You WILL be killed!!!
Welcome to Chicago!"
Posted by: Rochelle on Jun 29, 06 | 1:40 pm |
As if I didn't have enough change going on in my life, I decided to leave
our dog behind. I think it has something to do with the fact that my new house
has a ton of new carpeting. That, and our yard isn't fenced. Plus, I wanted to
be more free to travel at the drop of a hat, without the hassle of finding a
kennel or a dog sitter. The kids really never paid a lot of attention to our
dog anyway, other than Jillian, who continually feeds the dog her snacks. I
just thought this was one more way to make life a little more simple.
I didn't realize how much a dog effects your lifesyle. The first thing I
noticed, was how often I have to clean the kitchen floor. Jillian has had a dog
around for her entire two years of life. I never paid much a mind to when she
would drop food on the floor, it was never there for more than 2 seconds. Well,
now I realize it's become her habit, when she's done eating, to just drop
handfuls of food on the floor. Unless I let in the Wisconsin neighborhood
rabbits, the food will remain on the floor until I clean it. And there's
nothing like sticky old food between your toes. So I'm cleaning the floor quite
often.
The other thing is that before I go to bed at night, it's instinctive to let
out the dog one last time. I'm still wandering toward the door on my way to
bed. But last night it really hit me: That dog has trained me more than I've
trained that dog.
You see, we had a Maltese. The kind of dog that is supposed to have really
long, white straight beautiful fur that hangs to the ground. But our dog's fur
always came in kind of curly, probably enough to grow dreadlocks. So we kept
him cut short most of the time. He's also been the quirkiest of pets. He acts
like a cat, walking on the back of the couch, perching at the window, only
resting if there's a fluffy pillow to lay on or a freshly laundered blanket.
The most quirky behavior though was disgusting: If ever there was a plastic
grocery bag anywhere on the floor--and I mean ANYWHERE, that dog would seek it
out and pee on it. I wasn't sure if he just like the sound of that, or if it
was something else going on. My mom decided he must've been "plastic"
trained instead of paper trained as a puppy. But that behavior really annoyed
me. I could never leave any plastic bags any where. Well, moving here, I've had
to do my fair share of shopping. I was unpacking some boxes in my bedroom last
night and realized anything plastic that came out of the boxes, I was
instinctively placing on dressers, the bed, on other boxes, closet
shelves....finally I ran out of horizontal space and put a bag on the floor.
You would've thought I was trying to quit smoking or something: I truly began
to hyperventilate. It was the hardest thing to put a plastic bag onto the
floor. I was so mad at myself over getting worked up over something so stupid,
so I went around the rest of the house, near midnight, to find plastic bags set
up on furniture. This dog is still getting to me and he's almost eight hours
away!
I have managed to paint one child's bedroom though, which feels wonderful. I
shopped around yesterday and found a nice bedroom suite for his room that will
be delivered next week. He's never had his own room (that he can remember) so I
think he'll feel pretty special. It's taken a week of searching to find my
VCR/DVD player--we've been through a zillion boxes. I can't seem to get much
done with a toddler running around, but during nap time, I headed back out to
the garage and moved and hoisted what seemed like forty boxes, trying to find
it. I finally came to a box at the back of the garage labeled
"coats." I opened the box, and at the bottom of a dozen winter coats,
was the DVD player, cables and the remote. It's a fluke that I even opened that
box, who needs winter coats at the end of June? I'm thankful for the moving
company, don't get me wrong. But so much ended up mis-labled and in the wrong
room or part of the house. It's going to take me weeks to get some kind of
organization restored.
So far everything has been in pretty good condition, though Jillian's
multi-lingual play kitchen is missing the base, and our sleeper loveseat's arm
is lose and wobbly. I'm keeping a running list. They did manage to neatly wrap
everything seperately from the kitchen's junk drawer though. Personally, I
would've just dumped the drawer into a box and taped it shut. Oh, and I found
the kids' iMac computer wrapped up at the bottom of a box that was filled with
toddler toys, two wall clocks and the chains to our porch swing. And lovingly
unlabled. Can't say I was very thrilled at finding that.
Now that the little rabbit-watcher is awake and jumping up and down in her
crib, I guess I'll sign out, and head up towards the little voice that is
yelling, "Where are you? Where are you?" ...
Countdown to Evart and a much needed vacation.....!
Posted by: Rochelle on Jun 28, 06 | 6:51 am |
Yesterday morning, our fourth morning in Wisconsin, I discovered outside my
bedroom window, a huge furry bunny hopping along our backyard. Well, this
morning, while finishing up breakfast with Jillian, I lifted the blinds so her
sticky fingers wouldn't catch them. Sure enough, another bunny! So I pushed her
high chair near the window to show her the bunny. Of course she was very
excited, but now, she's obsessed with bunnies. She got out of the high chair
and continued to jump at the window. The bunny was hopping along the neighbor's
house. I had to pull a chair over so she could stand and watch. But we all
know, bunnies don't stay in one spot forever. So we've just concluded a
mini-memorial service for this rabbit who had gone "bye-bye." Tears
and all, we're devistated about the rabbit gone-missing. Ahhhh. Life with a
toddler.
So far the adventure here is going strong. We'd heard that Tues. morning is
trash day, so everyone should put out their garbage Monday evening. We went
strolling and saw that everyone here has two different trash cans, both from
the city. One is for recycling and the other is for "regular" trash.
We never saw anything but. We were left with the one recycling can but that's
it. As you may be aware, we are still unpacking and though I donated the empty
boxes on Freecycle, we still have about 30 trashbags full of packing and tape.
We weren't sure what to do with them so we opted to not put anything out on the
curb. Yes, we brilliant Michigan folks are KEEPING our trash. I emailed the
"City Garage" who handles refuse and asked them for an education on
their services. Totally embarrassing that we don't understand the local trash
laws, but oh well. At least we didn't offend anyone.
The other event was that we locked ourselves out of the house. That's always
exciting in a new neighborhood. We'd been shopping and came home in the 95
degree humidity with the baby and sure enough, my key didn't work. My husband
was not happy with me! He had left his keys behind, in the house. But I hadn't
needed a reason to check my key, his had always worked. Oh well, I thought it
was funny. But I shouldn't have laughed, that made it worse. I managed to page
a locksmith but the phone call I got back was from the Neo-Natal unit at
Children's hospital. Then five minutes later, as my husband was checking all
the doors and windows, the locksmith called me back. Don't know what was up
with the local paging system. Anyway, he was explaining the $50 fee for
emergency visits right about when my husband found and crawled through a
maintainance door in the garage to the house. So we didn't need a locksmith
afterall. Besides, we learned about the security issues of our place which is a
great thing. I enjoyed a good chuckle over it, he didn't.
We are trying to get used to living in a neighborhood where everything is clean
and people spend a lot of time outside. Where we come from, in a not-yet-so-up-and-coming
historical district, people pretty much kept to themselves and the traffic was
noisy. Here, all you hear are birds and see bunnies and folks walking or
biking. It's heaven. We've gone on evening walks with the baby and found out the
elementary school is only a 10 minute walk to the end of our street. The boys
will be able to ride bikes there. They will love it. They're not here yet as
they stayed with grandparents while we got the majority of the moving done.
Overall, we love it here. I'm getting used to the town, and I made it to
Appleton to go shopping at TJ Maxx (my favorite store) which is about 40
minutes north. Before that I drove through beautiful hilly farm country to the
shore of Lake Michigan, east of here, to Sheboygan. Really a beautiful town and
area. We are less than 2 hours from Chicago, and IKEA is around there, so
sometime soon I'll visit. Oh, and Oprah. Gotta make it to her Favorite Things
Show. Ha.
Turns out shopping for appliances was also a feat. My fridge spot was shorter
than most so I had to go to four stores before I found one that would work. I
was looking for the ultra cool French doors, freezer on the bottom in stainless
models. Oh well. I almost had to settle for a teeny apt. sized white, just
bigger than a cooler, one. But, thanks to a local appliance shop, I was able to
land a Fisher & Paykel, stainless, freezer on the bottom, from New Zealand
model, on clearance! Whoo Hooo! This thing even alarms if the door's been open
too long. It has a cooling fan to conserve energy, and would you know, by
reading the book, I found out it even has something called the Sabboth Mode.
Not sure what it is, do people not store food on Sunday or something?? Gotta
figure that one out. They even delivered it on the same day, along with a range
and microwave, which, isn't installed yet. I've been preparing meals without a
microwave, really an amazing thing since I've lived with one since I was about
five years old. Ahh my German friends would be so proud of me. (They're not so keen
on microwaves over there....)
Jillian is now running around with a plunger so I guess I've been online too
long. Talk to you all soon!
Posted by: Rochelle on Jun 20, 06 | 7:15 pm |
1. Eat Slushies
2. Hold up your hair in a bun
3. Open envelopes
4. Play air drums
5. Shoo away flies and other bugs
6. Make your Veggies fly across the room as the beginning of a food fight
7. Shoot Rubberbands
8. Scratch your back
9. Scratch someone else's back
10. Toss in a hammer-throwing contest
11. Use as a shoe horn
12. Stir coffee
13. Stir paint
14. Scrape sap off your soundboard
15. Group together and hang outside as wind chimes
16. Glue in a square and frame a photo
17. Reach one under the dresser to get the lost earring
18. Smack a child's hand who's about to hurt your dulcimer
19. If your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife is a dulcimer player and cheats
on you, snap their hammers in half
20. Use as a pretend magic wand
21. Pound in a nail to the wall (depending on the type of hammer)
22. Throw at squirrels who steal your bird food
23. Flick the spider off your dulcimer
24. Fend off a mugger by poking them in his eyes
25. Use in place of a laser pointer in a presentation
26. Grill Shishkabob
27. Roast marshmellows from the ends
....Now you fill in the next 23 in the comments section: !!
OK so I wrote this whole nine paragraph blog about my week in Wisconsin and
finding a house and Amish and bars on every corner and local accents....and
then my seven year old decided to close out the window. Somehow I lost the
inspiration....I'll just have to start over when I get some fresh coffee with a
little peace and quiet on the side....
I managed to jam the other night at my place with the 'big' dulcimer, it
behaved nicely, better than expected for being so young and immature (ha.)
Looking forward to the summer, hopefully full with music,...I will end up at
Evart no matter what, no matter how many boxes I'm surrounded by in
Wisconsin--whether by slow boat or fast car, ....rain, sleet, hail, snow....Hey
wait, now I'm sounding like a mailman. I've got to go to Evart if only to get a
new dose of inspiration, since my latest tune seems to be sounding an awful lot
like my phone's ringtone. (Now lovingly called the Ringtone Reel.)
Happy Mother's Day to all...I was nicely surprised by breakfast served up by a
nine year old, my oldest son--and handmade gifts from both my boys. These are
moments to savor. (So is the moment when the baby started squawking--I squinted
at the clock out of one eye to see 6:06am--I was too engrossed in an old movie
to go to bed last night so now I'm paying for it!!)
The moving company rep came to my house the other day to do the 'walk thru', to
figure out how much space and time it would take to pack and move us. She
convinced me that I am no pack rat (so I'm cancelling the psycho-therapy to go
shopping), just someone who likes collections and has a knack for decorating.
My household weighs about 25,000 pounds, will take one semi, two days to pack,
one day to load, one day of travel, another day to unload, and yet another day
to unpack. I'm very relieved I don't have to be the one to do it all, and
better yet, that we don't have to pay for it! Thank God for the moving
package....
I may not have time for daily workouts, but four days of soccer is helping me
out. Yesterday, my boys had games at the exact same time, on different ends of
the park. So, there I was, running back and forth, pushing the little girl in
the stroller, through the grass and dirt, trying to see both kids. This single
parenting thing is for the birds. Kudos to anyone who has to do it all the
time! I think I lost two pounds in an hour yesterday!
Just a little hint about the new house, it's got four bedrooms and a huge
playroom/ guest room with a full, new bathroom. (for all of my imported friends
and family to stay, hint hint.) The huge, stone fireplace may just inspire me
to go for the lodge/cabin type style of design. The subdivision it's in doesn't
look like it allows fencing, so we'll have to do the invisible fence and collar
system. Though neither the boys or Jillian seem to like things around their
neck much, so I'm not sure how they'll do with the little zap collars.
Well, since the maid or nanny haven't shown up yet today, I'm off to bathe
children and call my own mom, and make plans for Mother's Day lunch. Have a
wonderful rainy Spring day!
Posted by: Rochelle on May 14, 06 | 7:11 am |
Ok. I've learned my lesson.
Don't plan.
Ever.
Anything.
Because whatever could go wrong, probably will.
So much for spending Spring Break in Wisconsin, house-hunting! No, not us. Our
whole household came down with the stomach flu. Not the 12 or 18 or even 24
hour version. No, this was the gift that kept on giving. Two of the kids got it
twice, the baby got it three times, in less than 10 days. I had a mild (thank
God) version for a day or so that landed me in bed and thank heavens for
Grandma who came to the rescue! Just when we thought we'd beat it, someone
would go and throw up again. And again. One of the times the baby had it, I
came downstairs to hold her in front of the late night tv, and following me (or
so I thought) was our Maltese, Sidney. I made it in the dark to the
foyer/parlor, and I heard a strange noise behind me--so I turned around, with
the sick baby on my hip, to see--a white little dog flipping head over heals
all the way down the hard wood stairway and landed at the very bottom! I was in
complete shock. I thought (and I know, should've bit my tongue--) What on earth
else do I need ???
So, the dog limped over to the rug and licked and licked and licked his
bleeding paw. I was afraid of him for a second, didn't know if he'd hit his
head hard enough to turn on me or what--so I kind of kept nudging him with my
foot, afterall, I had the baby on my hip. Finally, after a few minutes I asked
him the favorite question "Do you wanna go outside?" and BOOM off he
ran toward the door. So I let him out, only to discover that I couldn't get him
back inside. For an hour. It was three in the morning, a sick toddler walking
around in the light from the tv, and me in my jammies yelling and whistling out
the door at the dog, who in my sleepiness, I'd decided must've crawled off to
die like animals in the wild. It actually was running through my mind, how on
earth am I going to tell the boys about this in the morning? Their dad is gone,
we're moving to another state, and oh yeah last night the dog fell down the
stairs and died!
For my whole life, I've been severely scarred from my own childhood flu cases.
I was always "violently ill" as my mother would say, upchucking 25
times or more per night. As an adult, I can't even say the word
"vomit" without cringing and getting nauseous. Even pregnant, I'd
look green but I managed to NEVER throw up. I just am seriously scarred.
HOWEVER ...after these last 10 days? I may as well go back to school for
nursing. I can handle about anything. I just wasn't stupid enough to put three
could-be-sick-again children in a Durango, only to find around Chicago in
traffic so thick that you can't get to an exit--and have someone spewing in the
backseat!
So, now that spring break is coming to an end, I'm planning (or not planning)
another trip to Wisconsin. My husband is on his way home right now for a long
weekend, thank God, we all miss him around here. I think I'll put the kids in
the car and follow him back over there on Sunday, pull the kids out of school
for a few days and find a new house.
In the middle of all the chaos, I did manage to get in touch with the
relocation department of the railroad, and found out that they are amazing!
They pay for everything! I'm so relieved. This, though tough to go through,
will be a wonderful experience. They will even pay for us to fly, and ship the
dog, and ship the cars over there. I can't even begin to list every bonus and
benefit. Hoorrah! But, since they are buying our house, I have already had to
endure a pest inspection (I don't think they listed the kids on their findings)
(oh, and no termites, of course!) and a mechanical/structural inspection....all
in the middle of this whole sickish vacation. Two real estate appraisals are
coming next week or the week after. I was really worried about all these
inspections with the garage and basement and unfinished deck and such. I hired
my nephew who was visiting from NY to clean the garage (he did great, it hasn't
been that clean in forty years!) and I hired a dad from the boys' school to
finish the deck....and just tonight another mom friend was over planting trees
and bushes and sprucing up our landscaping (well, what landscaping--a few
overgrown Boxwoods and a man-eating rose bush.) I'll probably really love this
place by the time I have to move out of it. Imagine: a clean garage, finished
deck, and landscaping??? Not fair! No time to enjoy it!
So I should mention: My one requirement for the new house, is that it's not a
project house. Nope, nada, ninco, nein. Enough says I. I've really gotten burned
out of all the demolition and repair. Rewarding, yes. But the cost and time
that you must put in?? No thanks, not on your life. Had enough.
However, I did find a house on historical Neenah Island that has 3800 square
feet, and a first floor solarium, second floor library, and third floor master
with a bonus room, that began 100 years ago as a carriage house. Even has
thermo-paned Anderson windows. Which (hopefully) is the sign that it's been
redone already, so all we have to do is move in!!!
I don't mind redecorating, in fact, that much I adore--making the house feel
like our home. Cozy and warm and reminiscent of our own style and family and
history. I just don't want to see anymore smashed plaster, drywall dust or
studs for a long, looooooong time.
And so, that's the update so far---I'm still smiling, still positive, still
trying to be excited about everything. An adventure in 2006---sounds great for
the TV movie!
Posted by: Rochelle on Apr 20, 06 | 8:19 pm |
Just when you think you've got things figured out and you're sitting
comfortably on that cushy couch with the nice warm quilt and the buttery
popcorn just waiting for the movie to start, the doorbell rings and there
before you is some odd-looking game show host with a microphone, you're blinded
by the spotlights and deafened by the cheering crowds of people and you hear,
"Congratulations! You're on 'This is Your Life' and I'm host, Robert
Robertson! You've just won what's behind Door #2! Grab a suitcase and your
family because you're going on the adventure of your life! (well this part of
your life, anyway...)"
And within 30 seconds, you're scrambling to get everything together, tie up
loose ends, bid farewell to everything that's familiar, grab your hat and
you're off to some place that you hear has really good cheese and green grass.
And so that's me, leaving for Wisconsin, in three months. Ninety days. Twelve
weeks. That always seemed like a good amount of time, but when you're faced
with finding a new home, neighborhood, community, schools, bank, grocery,
packing, unpacking, Yikes! That's not very much time.
I always am up for an adventure. I'll admit that life around here can get
pretty mundane, but no one has heard me say "I'm bored," in probably,
oh, 15 years or so. But in the last eight months my husband has had four job
offers in four different states. That's a little much. Granted, we've only
jumped at two. But going through the first one (moving to another state) was
exhausting enough, especially because right before it was completed, someone
detoured us (another job, local) and we ended up not moving. So now, I'm
telling my friends that I'm moving, and they're like, "Sure yeah we'll
believe that when we see it!" Kind of like crying wolf, I guess.
So, I've done what always comes naturally to me when faced with a new
experience: I've become completely preoccupied with Wisconsin. I've managed to
"meet" a small handful of folks, one of which is a musician that goes
to Evart, whom I've yet to meet in person. He's been a huge help, since he
lives forty minutes or so from where the new job is. He's even driven by a house
I found for sale online and given me a personal scoop. (Not to mention the
overview of music events available to local Wisconsinites...a huge priority for
me.)
I managed to find a church and email the pastor, who in turn forwarded me phone
numbers of a highly recommended realtor, who has since sent me several house
listings and a street map of the city. (Breathe in, breathe out.)
And to play it safe and cover my bases, I put in our children's teacher
requests for their current school, for the fall. One never knows. I may as well
be prepared for the next dozen job offers that might come our way. We might
just end up back in our hometown.
Well, it did cross my mind, until this morning. Just a few minutes ago, I
watched my husband pack everything up and head out the door, maps in hand.
Seeing him drive off after kissing all the kids (and myself) goodbye, it hit me
that this is really happening. Maybe there was a piece of my brain that was in
a tiny bit of denial, thinking last minute something else might happen.
Afterall, one can't blame me with the track record we've had in the last year!
So now it's more final. In fact, one of the phrases that ran through my mind
awhile ago was, "Oh wow, he's never going to live in this house
again." That's a strong emotion.
The company will be putting him up in a hotel until we find a house and move. I
will be staying in Michigan in our house with the kids until two of them finish
the school year. We are spending spring break in Wisconsin (when most people go
south) searching for a new home. I haven't been real thrilled with the lack of
selection in our price range---I had been worried that I would be overwhelmed
trying to tour 300 houses in three days--but as it looks I'll be lucky to get
to pick from five. Originally we had figured we could live within an hour of
his job and that gave us many more city/town choices, but the more I thought
about it, he's been commuting for eight years to work, well over an hour each
way, and with the current price of gasoline, lately it's cost him around $600
per month just to get to work and back. So I'm trying really hard to stay
within the city/township area of his work town (Fond du Lac) so he doesn't have
to commute anymore.
The other nice thing about this job, is that he no longer will have to be on 24
hour call. Working for the railroad all these years, waiting for the phone to
ring, never being able to plan a doctor visit or weekend away from home or have
a date for a wedding or funeral--it's a very difficult life situation. Now, he
gets to work three 12-hour shifts, scheduled, with four days off, and then the
following week, it flips- four days on, three off. It will be the closest thing
to a normal life we have ever known--prior to the railroad, it was life on a
Navy Ship. (Don't even get me started on that time period!!)
So far I've discovered that Liberace was born in Wisconsin. Wisconsin also has
the state's very first cheese factory. They boast a watermelon seed-spitting
contest. And, there is a giant migration of Amish coming from Lancaster, PA to
Wisconsin because the affordable farmland.
Musically, so far I haven't discovered a very large population of dulcimer
players (though there are some.) Here comes a loud, fast
Michigan-born-and-trained Webster-beating dulcimer chic. Can't imagine the warm
welcome coming my way! I'll try very, very hard to remain a quiet, respectful
representative of Michigan (I promise.)
I think the reason I'm attempting to stay preoccupied with all the positives is
because inside I'm completely overwhelmed with the idea of moving four floors
full of my stuff to another state. The company is hiring a moving company to
pack and move us--which is heaven for the pack rat that I am--BUT--my
wonderful-yet-so-unorganized-shall-I-even-say-slob of a husband has left me
with the garage.
THE PIT.
You have no idea how tempted I am to sell this place with the garage in the
state that it's in. Packed full of God knows what. But he's got his inheirated
tool box from his father in there which is Craftsman. (Gee. Hear my heart
pounding??!) So he's trusting me to get that moved. Plus, the kids' bikes are
in there and sleds too. I just am completely at a loss of a plan for that wreck
out there. I have my own problems in the house with the attic which I've never
been in, and the basement that is a pit in itself. Someone mentioned throwing
us a going-away party, and my suggestion was that the invititations read
"Please don't bring a gift--just take something, anything, out of the
house when you leave, so Rochelle doesn't have to move it!" Out with our
guest walks chairs, desks, boxes of old china.
Phill suggested that soon I start packing up the valubles I don't want the
moving company to pack. I'm thinking--hey, most of my house is valuable, to
me....this will be hard. We've had a moving company one other time in our
lives, when we were leaving the Navy. But in that case, we only had a little
apartment of stuff. Now I've got 2500 sq. feet of living space, a 1000 ft.
basement, 500 sq. ft of attic and the 2 car garage!
My sister on the other hand, decided upon moving to North Carolina, to leave a
ton of stuff at my mother's house. This was not the house we grew up in, mind
you. She just dumped stack after stack of boxes in her garage and attic! Four
baby cribs! Hello??!!! My poor mother has a problem enough with being her own
pack rat let alone my sister's crap. So I won't be doing that. The only thing
my mom has at her house that's mine, is a box full of old love letters and
photo albums that I didn't have the heart to throw away when I went to college
(don't tell anyone I told you that.)
But somehow I know, I will find a cool house next week to call our own and I
will be immediately flooded with decorating ideas. I will come back home, the
eight hour drive that it is, and be excited to get packing and planning for the
new adventure. I'll throw the kids a party at the end of school so they can see
all their friends again before we take off, and at that point, the world will
be my oyster. (Well, maybe not the world, Wisconsin at least....)
Did I tell you they have a retirement home / petting zoo / bakery completely
run by nuns? You can take a hay ride driven by a nun? And shop at the Nun
Better Bakery. There's also a restaurant with a grass roof, upon which goats
graze.....and dog sledding!
Well, I guess I'll go plan my seed-spitting strategies....A real feat since I
only like to eat seedless Watermelon.
Posted by: Rochelle on Apr 09, 06 | 9:13 am |
I have spent most of the winter inside with children, working slowly on this
never-completely-finished huge, old drafty house. I was thrilled to get my new
huge dulcimer, but having very little quiet 'alone' time, I haven't had much
time to conquer it. To me it seems a little daunting at this point, kind of
comparable to driving a Volkswagen Beetle for fifteen years and then trading it
in for a monster truck. I can play it, just not at a comfortable point yet. But
when I really have the need to play, and my instincts are to pull out my old
favorite Webster, I don't do that either, because I feel too guilty not playing
the new one. So I've spent alot of time not playing at all. Very silly, I know.
But emotions get the best of you at times and I guess there is always something
to take my attention around this house, so it was easy to move on.
Yesterday I decided to jump in the truck (no, it's a Durango, not a monster
truck!) and head to the great West (Grand Rapids.) I've talked about it for
years and rarely ever get to do it. So I parked the kids at Grandma's and
headed out. There was a jam over there (I'm about three hours east on the other
side of Michigan) and I thought it would be fun to surprise everyone. When I
left the house the weather here was cold and sunny. About twelve minutes down
the road I found myself in a near white-out snow storm! I almost turned around,
but with the comfort of a four-wheel drive and the itch to play some good
music, I kept driving. An hour later I hit rain, and by the time I reached
Grand Rapids, it was warm, sunny and birds were singing. I felt like in under
three hours I'd been traveled through three seasons of weather! Ah, just good
ole' Michigan.
I met up with three other musicians and had a mini-jam and lunch before heading
to the bigger jam. Once there it was so great to be surrounded by uncountable
dulcimers and other instruments and musicians. It felt like eternity since I'd
been in a room like that. (What a shame, I know.) I've traveled to seven
foreign countries and spent a lot of time in a lot of different places, had
some pretty awestruck moments (like standing at the top of a German castle,
staring out at the village below and the mountains in the distance) but nothing
compares to the feeling I get in the middle of a really good jam. The people
are immediately part of a wonderful family and the music is heavenly. There is
a such a high! It's so much fun to be playing in the middle of it, and then
again, to step back and just take it all in, like the first Spring
breeze....That's what makes it so hard to leave! Everything comes to a close at
some point, but it's always so hard for me to pack up and drive back home.
Not that home is horrible, I adore my family. But whether it's work, or the
house, or whatever, everyone has to set aside the fun and pick back up the
responsiblity. Sometimes it's been easy for me to keep a little bit of the
music high inside, and things around me go a little better. Other times, like
today for example, I'm not quite ready to jump back in and take all back all
the jobs I have in "real life." But the kids don't know better and
the quarrels and wrestling have already begun early this morning. Even sitting
here trying to write this, I'm hearing weird noises and giggles and some kid
begging for a third bowl of cereal. You know that feeling you get when your
snuggled in a warm bed and the alarm goes off and you're in the middle of a
really good dream and you don't want to face the day, just lay there all cozy?
Well it's kind of that for me right now, I just want to hear music and stay in
the middle of all those dulcimers. On second thought, maybe I should compare it
to having a hangover, yes, a music hangover, half of a headache, a cup of
coffee, and not being able to shut out the noise of the day! But, the day
beckons and time marches on.
By the way, after I got back into town, I had to go pick up the children. The
two dulcimers were still in the back of the truck. My youngest son couldn't get
to the seatbelt, and couldn't move my dulcimers either. So I had to jump back
out and open the hatch to move them before we could hit the road again. SMASH!
My old Webster came flying out of the back and onto the pavement at my feet.
There's nothing like that to make you remember how badly you didn't want to
leave a jam! My mom saw the whole thing and shrieked. I had to get kids home
and in bed before I could take it out to find out if I was owner of a new
strange puzzle with a million pieces or not.
Amazingly, it survived. More incredibly it was still in tune! (Kudos to Bill
Webster for that!) I was so relieved. You know, I hadn't really looked over
that dulcimer in a long time: It looks like it's been through the war! Looks
like it was clawed by some animal, a cat maybe, at some point; it's been mended
a couple times and reglued...A true miracle that it sounds so warm and
wonderful after all these years.(Furniture manufacterers have devised ways to
reproduce antique furniture and get that good, weathered look of age, it's very
believable at times, too. But for string instruments there's no quick thing
about it, they just have to age on their own time.)
So, I may be back to real life today, but the sun out my window and the pages
of my calendar tell me it's not too long before warmer weather and more music.
They say music calms the salvage beast....maybe I'll put a CD in and see if it
will tame the children this morning....
Posted by: Rochelle on Mar 26, 06 | 8:22 am |
I always said I wanted to have musical children. I wanted to teach them when
they were young, because children seem to learn so much faster and tend not to
have the fears and hang-ups that some adults have while learning.
And what I prayed for before I had them, was that I'd have PASSIONATE children.
Kids who have a zest for life. Ready to jump right in and get feet wet - type
children. Kind of like, (I really hate to say this) mini-me's. (Oh gosh. I
really didn't say that. Because I don't really mean that. Ugh.) Not like,
little clones, but children who will be outgoing and find friends easily and
have fun.
Too bad no one warned me that PASSIONATE is an adult word. A fairly mature
characteristic. PASSIONATE translated into a child-like vocabulary equals
HYPER. And wouldn't you know it, this was one prayer that God seemed more than
happy to answer.
I was pregnant with Boy #1. Not only did I get huge, right off the bat, but
doctors thought there must be a twin hiding somewhere. Overactive in the womb.
Having never been pregnant, I had no idea that I had an extreme baby in there.
This little guy would kick stuff off of my stomach all the time, like the
remote control, a plate of food, a soda (well you know, when you are your own
walking table, you might as well use it that way.) But we never had a video
camera back then. It really would've been something for America's Funniest Home
Videos.
Luckily there was no twin. Just a huge baby boy who never liked to sleep. And
before he could reach 13 months, another one was on his way as well. Same old
story, I was a huge mother-ship that looked like I was growing some kind of
alien thing.
You can imagine, if they were overactive inside, how active they were when they
had more room to roam. We're talking, climbing, running, let us swing from the
ceiling fan type of PASSIONATE children. Funny thing was, I'd read all the
books when I was pregnant, "Awakening the Genius in your Child,"
"How to teach your Infant Math," "The Secret of Gifted and
Intelligent Toddlers." Then I get two baby boys, 20 months apart, who
don't sleep longer than twenty minutes a stretch.
Teach them math by three months?
Awaken the Genius?
Please! Don't awaken anybody!!
I was sleep deprived, running on some kind of cross between adreneline,
caffiene and chocolate, hallucinating half the time. Teaching the infants math
got thrown out the window. If they got food, the diaper was under their jeans
instead of outside of them, and I got a shower every week, we were living the
high life.
Somewhere lost in all that blurr was my dulcimer. Late, late at night if the
boys were actually attempting to snooze at the same time, I got to play softly
for a few minutes. Most of the time I was too tired and ended up with string
marks across my face from laying on the thing too long. And, as the boys got
older and more destructive, and my house went from a knock off of Better Homes
and Gardens to looking more like a "Where's Waldo?" book (completely
chaotic piles of stuff with a path through it) - you can imagine that my
dulcimer became more or less "off limits" to the little darlings who
tended to break or harm anything they came near.
Don't get me wrong, I love and adore my children...
When they are sleeping.
(Just kidding! Gosh.)
So, when someone sparked a mild interest in playing my dulcimer, instead of
jumping with glee at an inclination towards music, I just distracted them with
something else. Sub-consciously, really, part of me was feeling "that's
the only thing I have left from the old life" and "I'm just freakin'
too tired to share!" So by the time I half allowed them to hammer, they
really wanted it bad. And that actually has become a good thing.
Phillip jr, (PJ) is nine now. Fourth grade. He's learned Whiskey before
Breakfast and most of Missouri. But the kid has his own agenda. He tends to
wander off into Chinese-sounding inventions. I'm proud that his hammer technique
is good, he has interest, he has really good rthym, and he's unique.
But how much Chinese sounding scales and funky patterns can an overtired end of
the day totally spent Mother handle??
I love him, I love his motivation. But my head is pounding and my ears are
ringing! And by the time I lovingly pry the hammers out of his little hands at
bedtime, I no long want anything to do with my dulcimer!
I am a sick, sick individual.
And I've already been scolded and warned that by making him stop, I could be
crushing his musical inspirations.
And then there's the youngest in line, one who isn't two yet. She loves to
hammer as well. She knows right what to do with hammers, banging away. Never
even attempts to eat them.
But, she has to be the one at the dulcimer. If I attempt to play when she is
awake and running around, she screams and throws hissy fits until I stop or she
gets to play. What would Freud say about that?
The kid in the middle, the seven year old, asked a few times to play my
dulcimer. But I have a feeling that he senses everything that his siblings are
doing so he tends to find other things to do.
I wonder what the answer is? I need private little practice rooms built into my
house! Like in the old record shops, you could go in a sound proof booth to
hear an album. That's the ticket! Sound proof booths.
Someday though, I'm sure I'll miss all the off notes and Chinese music. Someday
my kids may far out play their mother. Until then, I think I'll just get out
another dulcimer, take a Xanax, and try to play along.
When you can't beat them, you might as well join them.
Hmmmm, that's interesting advice to myself: Maybe next time someone's having a
tantrum, I'll fall on the floor and start screaming too. I wonder if it would
make me feel better??
Posted by: Rochelle on Feb 23, 06 | 7:54 pm |
Well, they say technological advances have made life far more easier than
ever before. With the washing machine, I would agree. I'd hate to be hand
scrubbing the twelve pair of jeans I just threw in a few minutes ago, not to
mention the several loads in line after that one. And, on the radio, I heard
that the iPod and cell phone ranked in the top five most important inventions
of the last fifty years. People phoned in with better ideas: For instance, one
woman said, "The mute button. I haven't heard a commercial in over a
year!" Another rang in, "The remote control. With 160 channels, can
you imagine turning the dial through them all every time you didn't like what
was on?" The DJ thought it would be funny to go on a remote control diet!
A sure way to lose weight, jumping up to the TV set every few minutes.
I'm not quite keen on LG's Refridgerator with a TV in the door. What is that
about? And now cell phones have cameras. Some girl in Target the other night
popped a button on her sneakers and wheels came out, and off she skated through
the toy aisles. Did you know they make an oven with refridgerator capabilities?
They seem to be smooshing so many things together, one can't be sure what it
was to start out with. Like the Aztec SUV. It's an SUV. NO wait, it's a tent.
Hey, no, it's a motorhome. Oh look, it's a tow truck.
Lately I've been spending time nursing my weird baby stroller obsession. Yes,
you read correctly. Stroller obsession. It started a long, long time ago after
the birth of my first son. It began innocently enough, I had a huge, heavy
stroller that made into a carriage and after awhile I got tired of hauling it
so I got a lighter weight stroller. Then when the second baby came I couldn't
make up my mind, and got a double stroller, but at the local fair, it actually
collapsed on the newborn who was riding in back and and caught it in time with
my leg so my husband could grab the baby out. That got returned and I spent the
big bucks for an imported Italian number. But after four months the wheel fell
off and that went back to the store to be replaced with another brand, but
didn't fold right and my older kid...well this story gets too long and not so
interesting. But I did find out that I'm not so bad wanting to have two at a
time, there are people out there who have several. One couple from Manhattan
couldn't wait till a new model came out in the States so they flew to Germany
to get one before Christmas. Couldn't decide between two so they bought BOTH
for a thousand dollars (BABY STROLLERS FOR A THOUSAND BUCKS, FOLKS) and brought
them home. Now, the big draw is for strollers that don't look like strollers.
There's a Quinny Zapp that is the world's smallest folded stroller, it can fit
on the back of a bike. It's about the same size as my Maltese dog. Three
wheel'd tripod stroller in flashy colors. But it doesn't have built in speakers
for my iPod so I'm not sure I'll get that one.....!
I did see a universal infant seat stroller that is just a funky looking frame
on wheels with a handle, and it folds, and it struck me that it would be great
for instruments. I'm not sure the largest of dulcimers would fit in it, but
smaller ones and of course guitars and banjos, etc would fit great! Very
lightweight. It ran about fifty dollars. Probably cheaper on eBay. I went
stroller shopping the other night and seriously wondered if I should get
something that fit both the baby and the dulcimer. The sales clerk luckily
didn't speak much English and was used to misunderstanding people, otherwise
I'd have tried to explain why one seat should be shaped like a trapizoid and
the other normal baby butt size. But I'm rarely with the kids and my dulcimer
at the same time, and buying a stroller to accomodate both just might lose me a
solo trip or two!!
As for my iPod Video, it's alive and well but without a way to record jams. I
bought an iTalk for that but it wasn't the right model. They so far don't make
anything appropriate for the newest iPod. Somewhere they have a Universal
Microphone Adapter, but that's too much to carry: Plug it in the iPod, then
plug in a microphone and hold that next to whoever is playing the tune I want.
Defeats the purpose of having the little iPod in the first place, to have to
carry so much stuff. So I have to use an older MP3 player to record a tune,
then dump it into my computer, transfer it to iTunes, download it to the iPod,
plug that into an a wireless FM transmitter so I can hear it over my car's
speakers, and put it on 'repeat play' so I can learn it for the dulcimer.
Wheeew. That's a lot of work. Can't imagine how they used to do it in the old
days...what? just listen to it live and play it, like a tune swap? Huh. Imagine
that. No gadgets? No electronics? Next you're gonna tell me some people even
carried their dulcimer without a case! Geesh. No case with velcro straps to
connect the stand? Life must've been so hard back then!!
I guess I'll save that project for later discussion then; the one where I'm
trying to hook up a big battery to a Wonder Wheeler so I can have a
refridgerated cooler plugged into a surge protector along side my battery
charger and laptop....
Posted by: Rochelle on Jan 20, 06 | 3:12 pm |
Move over, Bacon.
There's something more sizzlin' on my platter.
I've admitted it. I'm a techno-geek. And though I sported an MP3 player, even I
hadn't dreamed of owning an iPod. First off, I really hadn't gotten into the
whole MP3 thing...I had copied music to my Mac, sure--and for Evart '05 I
decided I needed a recording device other than a cassette player so I coughed
over the hundred bucks for a little MP3 player/recorder, and I loaded a few
hours of music onto it but that was it. (see a previous blog entry for the long
version of that story!) I may be pro-Apple but I thought the iPods were
overpriced and overgushed. I mean, come on--it even has its own culture!
But leave it to my husband and a freak romantic Christmas gift idea moment, and
an iPod was indeed in my future. Anything that expensive would've usually sent
me laughing and talking him out of it--there are, afterall, so many places for
that kind of money to go! But an iPod? For ME? An Apple iPod?? With video
capabilties? Awww Honey, you're the best!
Well needlesstosay, I wasn't the only one excited. The day it came in the mail,
he happened to be home, and just couldn't wrap it up for Christmas morning. I
came home from errands and he begged me to help him find a website he couldn't
seem to remember, and rushed me to my desk. There, in all its glory, was a
sleek, little black box with an iPod photo on it. Angels began to sing, and my
husband was beaming. I was teary. (Yes, over a little pile of microchips
smooshed inside a glossy white metal housing.) So, since one day in November,
I've been bonding with it.
I was a little daunted, since I had never even held one or seen one in
"real life." But it didn't take me long to find out how to plug it
into my mac....and that was even the funnest part--the mac knew what to do with
it! It just automatically transferred all 567 songs from my computer into the
iPod! How cool is that?? The rest, my friends, is history!
Soon, I had loaded a ton of dulcimer tunes into this thing. From Paul van
Arsdale to Ruffwater to Bob Hubbach to (enter your album here)....it was all
there at my fingertips. And so was the entire Polar Express movie! And 23
episodes of Desperate Housewives! And photos of my kids! And a photo slideshow
of the day we got hitched! And I still have 48.5 gig left! That's literally 1000's
of songs away from now!
The neat thing is, I have so many tunes just a click away and so portable. It's
amazing. Quite a chunk of musical history. Bill Spence is hammering away in my
ears as I type. I'm planning on getting as much old time (and contemporary)
dulcimer players as I can find to add to this. Honestly, it's quite inspiring
too, I can just hammer away to the tune on my headphones and learn a ton. And
with a microphone added I can record jams at Evart and all those tunes to learn
over the long months of winter.
And on a sillier note, I did realize recently that if I wear my iPod in the
afternoon, my boys' fighting and whining doesn't seem to bother me half as
much!! Call it escaping from reality or tuning them out or whatever, for a
stay-at-home mom, it's a Godsend when you're starting to feel like you're
morphing into the Wicked Witch of the West.
I hope your Christmas was as fun as ours was around here. (Though I've had my
share of family drama for sure!) May the New Year of 2006 ring in joyfully, for
you and yours. I'm looking forward to all the jamming and fun that lies ahead!
I hope to see you all soon.
Rochelle
Posted by: Rochelle on Dec 31, 05 | 9:40 pm |
Early Thanksgiving morning, taking in the warm fragrances of cinnamon and
nutmeg spiraling into the air in the steam from my coffee, I squinted sleepily
at the newspaper, which was hot off the press, folded neatly and just bursting
with colorful ads and special Christmas sales. There's something about a
newspaper that's never been read before, the way the creases are tight and
perfect, and how the edges with the tiny perferations hold the pages together
ever so slightly. There are many symbols of Thanksgiving, the turkey and pie,
the pilgrims, family gathering in, football. Indeed it is a time to be
thankful, a time to reflect on the year, and a time to look ahead to the future.
I enjoy the common traditions (football, not so much..) but what gives me
goosebumps is the thought of what's about to happen on BLACK FRIDAY. The day
AFTER Thanksgiving.
Luckily I was off the hook this year from cooking. My neice, sister, and mother