Second Blooming

And the Living Was Easy

Ten Favorite Things About My Summers Growing Up -

(in no particular order)

Barton Springs -

An Austin institution. Barton Springs is a public pool, made by damming Barton Creek, and filled with natural spring water from Barton Spring. The water remains a nippy 71.6 degrees year round. And if you've ever endured a Texas summer, when temperatures may remain over 100 degrees for a couple of months, that 71.6 is like a little piece of heaven.

When I was in Junior High/High School, we'd get our moms to drop us off there in the morning, and we'd "lie out" all day. The routine was to grease ourselves up with Bain de Soleil and bake in the sun as long as we could stand it. Then we'd get up and dive into the water until we'd lowered our body temperature to the point we'd start to shiver, then we'd climb out and start the process over again.

Water Wiggle-

 

I LOVED my Water Wiggle! It was probably the most unsafe, violent toy ever made, in fact, they were all recalled and taken off the market in 1978 when a bunch of kids...mmm...died. That thing would whip around like crazy, wrap around your legs, smack you in the head and shoot a spray of water into your eyeballs. FUN!

Cokes -

Used as a generic term. In Texas idiom, the word "coke" refers to any soft drink, what you people from the rest of the country might call "pop" or "soda".  Example: "May I please have a coke?" "Sure what kind do you want?" "Dr. Pepper, please."

I seldom if ever drink cokes of any kind any more, I gave them up years ago. But when I was a kid, there was absolutely nothing as refreshing as an icy cold Coke or a Dr.Pepper or maybe even a Big Red. Served over ice. Preferably out of a blue Solo cup. Ah! That carbonation rush! That sugar rush! That caffeine rush!

Dang, I might have to go buy me a Dr. Pepper now.

Kaysie's Pool -

My best friend Kaysie's family had a pool. I think that I could safely say that I spent half of my time during the summer days of my youth in that pool. We would stay in the pool for so long that we used to get something we christened "pool toe", a painful malady which involved little sores on the bottom of each of your raisiny toes from walking around on the bottom of the pool. We sunbathed, we floated, we "Marco Polo"ed, we practiced diving, we practiced synchronized swimming. When we got hungry, thirsty or too hot, we'd wrap up in towels and head into the air conditioned sanctuary of the kitchen, where their family's housekeeper, Onita, would give us tuna salad sandwiches and a coke. And by "housekeeper", I mean maid, as in The Help. Onita took good care of us.

Kaysie's Ranch -

Kaysie's family also owned a ranch, out in the Hill Country near Johnson City. I loved that ranch as much as any place in the world. They had 400 acres, and we had the run of the place. The house was a modest version of South Fork, but we spent most of our time on the land. We rode horses and mini bikes. We fed the cows. We went swimming in the creek. By the time she was about 10, Kaysie knew how to drive a car, so we could just drive the old ranch truck around the property by ourselves.  In the summer, my family let me spend weeks at a time out there - it was such a wonderfully freeing experience. I am so blessed to have had this opportunity. And I'm blessed that I can still take Jude to "The Ranch" when we get to Texas.

Days of Our Lives -

During the rest of the year, I only got to watch Days of Our Lives when I was home sick, but during the summer, I got to watch it every day! Mama and I would arrange out lunch around the soap schedule so we could watch together! The romance! The scandal! Julie and Doug, Maggie and Mickey. It was fodder for many of my childhood romantic fantasies. I can't believe I actually found this on YouTube  - still made my heart flutter...

 

Mimosa -

The tree, not the beverage. Daddy had planted a mimosa tree in our yard, and it was my official climbing tree. I spent a ridiculous amount of time up in that tree. I was a climber. When I think about it, I can still remember the smell of the bark and the way it felt against my skin. And the flowers had the most heavenly smell. I remember picking the feathery blossoms and brushing them back and forth across my face. Aaaaah.

Tubing -

Another very Austin activity. Austin is surrounded by creeks and rivers, and and the best way to enjoy these natural phenomena is in an innertube. When I was a kid, we used to go to a place called Pedernales State Park, where you could tube down rapids and fly over waterfalls. The closest I have ever come to death, was once when I went off a waterfall at Pedernales and the water held me down. I struggled and struggled and finally was able to get to the surface before I drowned. Sadly, people are no longer allowed to go tubing at Pedernales because too many people drowned. Spoil sports!

When I got older, tubing always included tying a six pack of beer to the back of your tube with a rope. The water kept the beer cool, and all you had to do was haul the rope in when you got a little parched. A good time was had by all.

My Portable Record Player -

One year, my parents gave me a record player much like this one...

It was an amazing machine. It ran on batteries, and I could take it outside while I sunbathed in the backyard. I would slather myself with baby oil mixed with iodine, then rub lemon juice in my hair and bake in the sun while listening to Chicago or Barry Manilow or The Captain and Tennille or the soundtrack to A Star is Born. The only hazard was that you had to be careful not to put the record player in the direct sun, or you'd melt your album. Which was very sad indeed. Please do not comment on my incredibly dorky teenage taste in music.

Texas Peaches -

The Texas Hill Country is peach country. Most of you have probably only eaten peaches which have been stripmined in California or Mexico or something. The real deal is incomparable. I'll never forget once bringing some peaches back to LA after a visit to Texas, and my boyfriend at the time ate one. He looked as if he had achieved nirvana. "It's like candy!" he kept saying, peach juice running down his face.  They are a phenomenon which has to be experienced to believe. Every summer of my childhood, Mama would go to a peach orchard where you could pick your own. And Kaysie's mom actually grew her own at the ranch. The smell of those peaches absolutely defines summer to me.

As far as I'm concerned, there are only three ways to eat Texas peaches. 1. fresh. 2. as peach ice cream - either homemade or from Bluebell Creamery or 3. in peach cobbler. Or for complete overkill, peach cobbler with Bluebell peach ice cream on top! Here are peach cobblers at Kaysie's ranch...

 

 What do you miss most about your childhood summers?

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This post was inspired by...

Prompt #4 -  List your top 10 favorite things about summer growing up.

Eats

If, magically, I was granted one day during which I could eat anything my little heart desired without gaining a single ounce, risking a heart attack from clogged arteries, or vomiting from over-eating, I would eat the following...

Beignets and Cafe au Lait from Cafe Du Monde in New Orleans.

Fresh and hot. And when you eat them, you get powdered sugar all over yourself and up your nose.

Fried Catfish from Mama's House on Crenshaw in LA. With a side of Mac and Cheese and those  Greens cooked with ham hocks and some of that Louisiana hot sauce and a big iced tea.

Jan's Balsamic Glazed Brussels Sprouts with Pancetta

The above picture is used entirely without Jan's permission, but I'm hoping that my saying that her recipe is one of my favorite foods on the Planet Earth will make her okay with it.

These Chocolate Chip Cookies...

Prime Rib from Lawry's Prime Rib in Beverly Hills. Lawry Cut, medium rare. With both the Creamed Spinach AND the Creamed Corn, and that weird salad in the spinning bowl. And the Yorkshire Pudding. And a Manhattan.

Pennsylvania Dutch Eggnog.

Pasta Carbonara made with this recipe...

1 lb. pancetta (or bacon)

1 lb. spaghetti

3 eggs, beaten

3 tbsp. butter

3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley

freshly ground pepper

Fry pancetta or bacon until it is very crisp. Drain on paper towels and crumble. Cook spaghetti in a large pot of boiling, salted water until just tender. Drain spaghetti and pour into a very large bowl. I like to use a large stainless steel bowl which I've run under hot water to warm up. Pour eggs over the pasta and toss to coat the strands evenly. Add butter and toss again. Add Parmesan, parsley, pancetta and lots of pepper and mix thoroughly.

Queso Flameado with Chorizo from Guero's Taco Bar in Austin, TX. Wrapped in homemade corn tortillas. Heaven in a bowl. Seriously. When I go there, I don't even order an entree. Just a couple of margaritas and a big bowl of cheese filled with pork.

and while we're in Austin...

Chicken Fried Steak from Threadgill's in Austin TX. Smothered in cream gravy, with mashed potatoes and fried okra and blackeyed peas. And corn bread. And a Shiner Bock beer. Heaven smothered in cream gravy.

and...

Homemade Peach Ice Cream, made with ripe Texas Hill Country peaches. A taste that you have to experience to understand. Heaven frozen.

A rack of Baby Back Ribs. Dry rubbed with Grub Rub...

then grilled, and then baked, smothered with MY barbecue sauce. And PLENTY of napkins.

Key Lime Pie - I don't care where it's from, as long as it's made with real Key limes, and isn't dyed with green food coloring. Either whipped cream or meringue is acceptable.

Port and Stilton Burger from Umami Burger in LA. Blue Cheese and port caramelized onions on a huge, meaty burger. With the sweet potato fries.

Mama's Chocolate Cream Pie -

1/3 cup flour

1 cup sugar

1/4 tsp. salt

2 cups milk, scalded

2 1-oz. squares unsweetened chocolate

3 egg yolks, beaten

2 tbsp. butter

1/2 sp. vanilla

baked pie shell

1 cup heavy whipping cream

3 tbsp. sugar for whipped cream

Mix flour, sugar and salt; put in top of a double boiler and gradually add scalded milk. Add chocolate and cook until thick, stirring constantly. Add small amount of hot mixture to the egg yolks; stir into remaining hot mixture. Cook 2 minutes. Cool. Add butter and vanilla . Pour into baked pie shell. Whip heavy cream with sugar. Spread on top of thoroughly cooled pie.

Hmmmm.

I guess that's it. Just enough sweet. Just enough savory. Lots of pork. I could then die a happy woman. I am really very hungry now.

So...what would you choose?

This post inspired by...

Prompt #1 - If you had one day to eat anything you want and not gain a single ounce what would it be?

Texas Girls

We had such an excellent weekend! My college roommate Lannyl and her darling 12-year old daughter, Georgia, stayed with us for three nights and we had a whirlwind of LA tourist fun!

Lannyl is the original housewife on NYC. She had a pretty big Broadway career back in the '90s (My Favorite Year, Moon Over Buffalo) but took time off when she started having kids. Sounds familiar, right? She now, being the good Texas/Louisiana girl that she is (we love our vehicles), drives her kids back and forth around the island of Manhattan in her hybrid SUV. Jude and I love getting together with them when we're in NYC - Jude kind of hero worships her kids, Michael and Georgia.

I love being with Lannyl. I don't often get to spend time with women who I share my past with. We're cut from the same cloth. Everything's simpatico. We work in tandem and get things done. And man, did we do some stuff!

Friday was a tornado of activity. We stalked the cast of Glee around the Paramount lot, met our UT buddies Wendell and Christi for a gossipy lunch, then took Christi along with us for a drive-by of all the sites we could fit in in one afternoon. From the Hollywood Sign all the way to Malibu then then back again. And then, as if we hadn't done enough that day, we saw another UT friend, Kim, in a play. Whew.

On Saturday, we made our way to Disneyland. It was a great day because it was a little cold and misty, which actually kept all of the crowds away.

Jude and I led the way, and we managed to hit pretty much ALL the highlights of the world  of Disney. Georgia was SO excited.

The whole day was perfect until we got into the girl fight.

What? I didn't mention that? Silly me.

Yes, in Disneyland, the Happiest Place on Earth, Lannyl and I somehow managed to almost get into a fist fight. Perhaps I should explain...

After making our way around the park, riding ourselves silly, we decided to take a break and catch the 4:00 parade. We found a good spot close to the front, and waited for all the dancing princesses and mice to get there.

Soon after the parade began, I was shoved from behind by a small woman who appeared to be in her 60s. She literally shoved me out of the way, and bulled her way in front of us. No "excuse me" or explanation. We'll call her Rude Woman #1. Lannyl and I were all "How rude!" and "Why I never!" As I said, Lannyl and I are cut from the same cloth, and that cloth could never be described as "street".

A couple of minutes later, another woman, a woman in her 20s or early 30s, we'll call her Rude Woman #2,  squished her way in and stood next to Rude Woman #1. We assumed that #2 was #1's daughter.

"Excuse me." I said "You have cut in front of us, and I can no longer see my child. Could you PLEASE move out of my way." Yes, my reaction to physical confrontation is to turn into the Queen Mum.

RW #1 and RW#2 looked at me as if I smelled particularly bad, and didn't move.

"JUDE!! I'm here honey! I'm back here! These two very, very rude women shoved in front of me and I can't see you. But I'm here!" I cried. "She can no longer see her child!" cried Lannyl.

Finally, after the other people around us asked them to move as well, they kind of hunkered down a little, so I could see my kid.

As soon as the parade was over, and the last dancing chimney sweep chim chiminied away, RW#1 turned around, put her arms up like a linebacker, and started to shove her way back between us.

Now as I said, Lannyl and I are cut from the same cloth, and that cloth is not "street". But we are still Texas women, and even though we may have turned into Queen Mums, we were not going to let these women shove us. I stood up to my full 5'10" and though Lannyl is not as tall as I am, she does have Broadway caliber presence. We both got big. And we both shoved back.

At this point, things are a bit of a blur. I'm pretty sure that Lannyl and I said things like "I think NOT!" and "Well excuse ME!" and "There is no need for THAT!" And the rude women started shoving and pushing us, and then people started shouting, and then there was more pushing and more shouting and then RW #1 started hitting Lannyl with her purse, and Lannyl screamed and threw her hands up to protect herself, which caused her iced tea to squirt up in the air and all over RW #1 and RW #2, who turned tail and ran away.

As they pulled away, I shouted in a rather dramatic way "Clearly, YOU" I thrust my finger toward RW #2 "Learned your manners from HER!" and I pointed to RW #1 with a flourish. Take that!

"Yo, beeotch! Don't you be dissing me and my crew! Don't you be shoving my ass! Sho nuff! I will stand my mutha f&#$in ground! That is mos def! Don't make me come ova there bitch!"

Okay, I didn't really say that part. But I think that my dramatic gesturing and "angry voice" made the point.

All around us, people ran to our defense. It was a bit surreal. Lannyl called for security. Witnesses told us that the RWs had hightailed it out of there.

The Disneyland security was very nice, even if they were a bit useless. I don't think they have many middle-aged women slapdowns. Lannyl actually had a SCRATCH on her neck. They offered to get her medical assistance, but it wasn't really needed. They did take a report. And then they gave us some "use anytime" Fast Passes for Star Tours. Which Lannyl then cleverly parlayed into two more "use anytime" Fast Passes for Space Mountain...

So in the end, a fun time was had by all.

I'm thinking that maybe when we go to NY in the summer we might go to Coney Island together. Let's hope that none of them Brooklyn beeotches mess with us!

Spin Cycle: The Cow Story

My precious Daddy had a peculiar hobby. He took and collected pictures of Texas courthouses. Every Texas courthouse. This was no small feat, as Texas has 254 counties.

He kept a huge Texas map at his office on which he kept track of which courthouses he'd taken pictures of, and which ones he still had to get. He also spent a tremendous amount of time fiddling with the pictures, labeling slides and arranging them in trays for his Courthouse Slide Shows. And yes, he did subject our dearest friends to these slide shows. I would show you some of these pictures, but I'm afraid they're all on slides in a box in my attic. And frankly, if you've seen one courthouse you pretty much seen them all. Though I would never have said this to Daddy.

So over the years, my poor, patient mother, who would much rather have been seeing Broadway shows in New York City, or shopping at Neiman-Marcus in Dallas, was dragged around on grueling road trips to every county in the state. Often, Daddy would plan elaborate, circuitous routes that criss-crossed the state, stopping in every tiny podunk county seat in Texas.

Which leads us to...The Cow Story.

One summer, my family had gone on a vacation through the Southwest - New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado - pulling a little travel trailer behind our station wagon. At some point during elementary school, I rebelled about the boredom of these long car trips, and insisted that we bring a friend along so I'd have someone to play with. This particular trip (and actually most trips), it was my BFF Kaysie. Kaysie and I sat in the backseat squealing and giggling for mile after mile after mile. And while this must have driven my parents crazy, it was, no doubt, preferable to listening to me whine about the boredom for mile after mile after mile.

We were driving home to Austin through the endless nothingness which is West Texas. We were on a lonely two-lane highway which was straight, but with large rolling hills like waves. Much like this...

Daddy was driving, and Mama was cross-stitching or some such thing in the passenger seat. Kaysie and I sillying in the backseat.

Suddenly, we drove over the crest of one of these undulating hills and there, in the middle of the road, was...a dead cow.

Daddy was forced to make a choice. He could either try to swerve the station wagon around the cow, almost certainly causing the trailer to jackknife and crash, or to simply run over the cow.

He chose the latter.

Sound made when the station wagon/trailer ran over the cow = 

WHACK, BUMP, BUMP, SPLAT, BUMP, BUMP...........

Sound made by females in the car =

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK!!

Sound made by females in the car when they realized that there was now blood splattered all over the back end of the station wagon and the front of the trailer.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWW!!

Hysteria ensued.

The one thing my daddy never had patience for was hysterical females.

"QUIET, ALL OF YOU! Just settle down now! We're fine and dandy. Stop all that screaming! It was just a cow. Look, we're driving fine! No harm done."

"ROY!!" my mother shrieked "Pull over! Pull over! That poor COW!"

"There's no reason to pull over." Daddy countered stubbornly, "That cow was ALREADY DEAD! And look, there's nothing wrong with the car, we're driving just fine."

We all looked. The car did, in fact, appear to be driving fine.

"So just settle down now. There's nothing to get riled up over!"

We sat back, trying not to get riled up, but unable to stop from occasionally looking back at the blood splatter and "Eeeeeewww"ing.

We drove on another several miles until we reached a small town, one of our scheduled county seats, where Daddy was planning to take a picture of the courthouse.

Lots of townfolk seemed to be waving at us as we drove by. "What a friendly little town!" my mother remarked.

When we reached the courthouse in the little town square, we all piled out and posed and smiled on the courthouse steps while Daddy clicked away with his Kodak.

As we walked back to the car, Kaysie suddenly started to scream.

"MR. GERMAN! MR. GERMAN! MR. GERMAN! IT'S THE COW!"

We all ran around to the back of the trailer.

And yes, there was the cow. Attached to the rear bumper of the trailer. A bit worse for wear. Apparently, we had been dragging the thing for about 20 miles.

"ROY!" screamed my mother "It's the cow! It's the cow!"

A crowd of townspeople began to gather.

It was nasty. All blood and bones and...parts. Kaysie and I were screaming. Mama was gagging. People were staring.

"Get in the car!" Daddy barked "Just get in the car!"

We all jumped into the car as quickly as possible.

"But Roy, what are we going to do?!"

Daddy started the car and we drove away.

Pulling our cow with us.

When we got a couple of miles down the highway, Daddy pulled over, and told us all to stay in the car. He got a broom out of the trailer, and proceeded to whack at the cow carcass until it came off. Mama, Kaysie and I continued to squeal and "eww" and gag.

Daddy got back in the car.

"Alrighty, that is IT! The thing is off the trailer, and I don't want to hear another sound out of any of you! We'll just leave it here on the side of the road."

"But Roy..." Mama began.

"That is enough! There's nothing else to be done. I don't want to hear one word out of any of you. Let's have a little peace in his car."

We drove away, leaving our cow for some roadkill cleanup crew to pick up. After about two minutes of silence, my mother couldn't resist.

"I knew we should have pulled over."

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Don't forget to click by all of the other Spin Cycle Car Trip spins!

Peg at Square Peg in a Round Hole

Michele Renee at Must Be a Full Moon

Kendra at Life in the Slow Lane

SuziCate at The Water Witch's Daughter

Michele at It's a Dog's Life

Claire at Incognitus Scriptor

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Nadine at All Along the Hightower - NEW ON FRIDAY!!

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie - NEW ON FRIDAY!!

CaJoh at Ca-Joh - NEW ON FRIDAY!

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Role Models

Since March is Women's History Month, I thought it might be nice to talk about women who have inspired us.

Who was your role model as a child? Was it your mom? Grandma? A favorite teacher?

Or were you inspired by a famous person? Who did you want to emulate? Sally Ride?

Jane Goodall?

Samantha Stephens?

I always wanted to be Julia...

Do y'all remember Julia? She was neat. She was a nurse. And a widow, who was raising her little boy Corey on her own. I wanted to be her. I even had these exact same paper dolls...

Julia got to wear a groovy nurses uniform, and went out on dates and...

Oh sorry. I seem to have digressed.

Anyway, who inspired you?

Spin it up. Write it up. Post it up. Link it up.

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The Lie

FADE IN:

Texas, 1967. A little girl named Gretchen is playing in her room by herself. Like most only children, she often plays alone, creating a lively and complex fantasy life inside her bedroom. On this day, she is playing with her blanket, Nicey, using him as a lasso to catch an ornery troll doll, who has escaped his home, which has been elaborately constructed inside an old suitcase.

GRETCHEN

You come back here! I'm gonna get you!

She takes Nicey, and starts to swing him around and around, wildly making circles with her little arm, flinging that blanket around as hard as she can.

GRETCHEN

(continued)

You're not getting away, you naughty troll!

Suddenly, while being flung around, Nicey the blanket catches the corner of the glass ceiling light fixture, yanking it down, where it smashes into about a million shards of glass all over the room.

GRETCHEN

(continued)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!

Gretchen freezes amidst the rubble. Mama runs in from the kitchen

MAMA

Oh Lordy! Lordy! Lordy! STAND STILL! DON'T MOVE!

(she surveys the situation)

Are you cut?!! Let me see your face!! What happened?!!

GRETCHEN

(deer in headlights)

I was...playing...the light...just...mmm...it just.......

...........................................BOOM!

MAMA

It just exploded?! Oh my goodness!! It must have overheated!

GRETCHEN

(starting to cry)

Uh-huh.

MAMA

Oh my baby! I am SOOOO sorry! You poor thing!!!

Oh thank the Lord you are not cut! Oh my goodness,

oh my goodness!

Gretchen runs to Mama for hugs and kisses. Mama cleans up the horrible mess.

FADE OUT.

Thus began my mother's lifelong obsession with wattage. After examining the fated light fixture which had "exploded", Mama discovered that it had been fitted with two 100 watt light bulbs. Clearly, this had been a fateful error on her part, causing the fixture to overheat and shatter.

She was henceforth extremely careful about how much wattage she put in a fixture. We were not allowed to EVER put a 100 watt bulb into an overhead light, only in lamps. It could only ever be two 60 watt bulbs.

For twenty years, every time my mother discussed bulb wattage, I cringed with guilt.

CUT TO:

Texas, 1987. Gretchen, now 26, and Mama push a cart into the grocery store. Mama fishes her grocery list and reading glasses out of her Coach bag. She pulls on her glasses and reads the list.

MAMA

Okay, I'll go get the milk and the bread. Why don't

you go get the light bulbs.

GRETCHEN

Okay.

MAMA

Now don't get the 100 watt bulbs. Get the 60 watts ones.

NOT the 100 watts!

GRETCHEN

(starts to walk away, then stops and comes back)

Mama? Do you remember the time when I was little that

the light fixture in my room exploded?

MAMA

Oh heavens, I'll never forget that! It scared me silly!

GRETCHEN

Mama...I lied.

MAMA

What do you mean, you lied?

GRETCHEN

It didn't explode. It was me.

MAMA

Now don't be silly, of course it exploded.

GRETCHEN

No, it didn't. I was swinging Nicey around, being goofy,

and I broke it. I hit it and knocked it down.

MAMA

No, honey. I had two 100 watt bulbs in the fixture, and it

overheated and shattered. That's what happened.

GRETCHEN

No, Mama, it was me. I lied to you!

MAMA

That is just silly. It overheated! It scared me to death!

I have been very careful about this ever since then.  Very careful.

GRETCHEN

Uh-huh.

MAMA

Now you run along and get the bulbs, and I'll get the milk and

the bread.

GRETCHEN

Okay.

MAMA

But DON'T get the 100 watt bulbs! Get the 60 watt ones.

GRETCHEN

Yeah, okay.

Mama pushes her cart to the dairy case. Gretchen sighs, shakes her head and goes over to pick up the light bulbs. The 60 watt ones.

FADE OUT.

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This post was inspired by...

Prompt #3 - A lie you told. 

Nemesis

My childhood nemesis was a girl named June.

Okay, she wasn't really named June, that's a pseudonym, chosen in order to protect the mean.

But she was my childhood nemesis. Not a nemesis of the Professor Moriarty/Dr. Doofenshmirtz type, but of the true definition - "an opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome".

June was my friend. In fact, she was one of my best friends. We played together all the time, from the time we were in Tiny Tots preschool together through junior high.

But June had a mean streak. She could be cruel. She could also be a lot of fun, and had a strong personality. She was an instigator and leader of girls. I'm afraid that early on, she figured out that I was extremely gullible, and easily led by the nose. I became her...yes man.

June's parents got a divorce when she was just 4 or 5 years old. Which was a little shocking and exotic at the time- none of my other friends' parents were divorced. But June's parents had married young, and had her when they were just 19.

This was Austin in the '60's, so there was a whole lotta experimentation/spreading your wings/letting your freak flag fly going on. June's mom became a full-fledged hippie. While my mother wore a French-twist updo, bright red Revlon Fire and Ice lipstick and her good pearls, June's mom wore long, flowing hair, peasant skirts and halter tops with no bra. She was cool and artsy. She macramed and threw pots. She even had a kiln in the garage. She had boyfriends and smoked pot and listened to Joni Mitchell really loudly.

June's dad, in what I now know was probably an attempt to buy her love and make her forgive him for leaving his family, built her amazingly cool stuff. She had a tepee. A REAL tepee. She also had a log cabin! The cabin was in the backyard, and was fitted with four bunks, air conditioning and a telephone - perfect for a slumber party.

June had every thing I wanted. Blond hair, blue eyes, freckles, glasses, braces. All the cool stuff. Her mom got her shirts with Nehru collars and peace sign necklaces. She got to pierce her ears! And when we were in junior high she got...a waterbed. I can still remember the smell of it. I desperately loved playing at her house, and envied everything she had.

But looking back on our long friendship, I'm a little shocked by how many "Mean June" incidents I can remember.

In 2nd Grade, we were playing some kind of chase game on the playground, and June shoved me from behind, making me slam my face into the monkey bars and chip one of my brand new front teeth. It took about 20 years for that tooth to even off and look normal.

She had this game she made me play with her. It was called "Little Bat". June got to drape herself in a long black cape and be Little Bat, a poor orphan bat, who had lost her way and needed to be returned to her cave in the wild. I never, ever got to be Little Bat, but was forced to play the far less interesting role of the kind lady who helped her. I would have to pick her up and give her food and liquids and wrap her in a blanket and help her find her mommy. June, as Little Bat, revelled in her pain and sadness. She was the flying mammal Camille. You have to understand how difficult it was for me, a performer at heart, to always be stuck in the stupid, boring supporting role. I would have been a FABULOUS Little Bat, but, alas, was never allowed.

In about 3rd Grade, June convinced me that I should eat the cat food, because it tasted just like chicken. It did not.

And then came...dum, dum, dum, dum...4th Grade. The year of misery. I must have been going through an awkward phase or something, because my two most traumatic elementary school incidents happened that year. And both were instigated by June.

The first was a time when my best friend Kaysie (who was also under June's evil spell) had invited a bunch of girls for a sleepover at her house. As Mama drove me up the hill to Kaysie's house, all of the other girls jumped out from behind a bush on the side of the road and screamed "YOU'RE LATE!". Apparently, Mama had gotten the time of the party wrong, and we showed up an hour late. The girls continued to taunt me for the rest of the party. I was deeply shamed.

The other was what Kaysie and I have come to call the Dreaded Bean Dip Incident. It was a terrible and scarring experience that involved my being pelted with bean dip at a slumber party in June's log cabin by an out of control gang of 10 year old girls - a hideous event which haunts me to this day.  Kaysie won't even let me mention it in her presence, she is still so filled with shame over the incident. But such was June's power of persuasion.

Which brings me to one of the most shameful experiences of my life. Something I look back upon with such shame and guilt that I would prefer to think it didn't happen. But it did.

Around 6th Grade, a girl named Karen came to our school. I liked Karen. She was sweet and fun and smart, and we played together often. We both had guitars and I remember us learning how to play Leaving on a Jet Plane together. I guess Karen was kind of dorky, but...so was I.

At some point in Junior High, probably 7th Grade, June decided that Karen was not cool enough to be our friend. She decided that everyone in our little gang of girlfriends needed to...snub her. June laid out the plan for us all - that day, every time Karen came up to us, we were to completely ignore her, and pretend she wasn't there. And being the June sycophants that we were...we did.

I'll never forget how Karen reacted. The look of hurt and injury on her face. Of disappointment and betrayal.  Over and over that day, every time she came near us, we ignored her and she walked away quietly.

Karen was a smart girl, and took the hint. The next day, instead of sitting with us in the cafeteria at lunch, she walked across the room and sat with the other outcast girls. A group of girls who were all deemed "uncool", but managed to forge their own little subculture, their own little clique. A group of girls who I am now friends with on Facebook. We play dorky games together, and have a great time. But at age 13, I was too worried about my own public image to admit that I had a lot in common with those girls. Certainly more than I had with June.

I've looked for Karen on Facebook, but haven't found her. I'd like to tell her how sorry I am.

Soon after this incident, Kaysie and I pretty much stopped being friends with June, and not long after, she changed schools, and we never saw her any more. It was such a relief. But I still wish that this friendship had ended because I'd stood up to her and done the right thing instead of just following the herd.

I've looked for June on Facebook too, but haven't found her either. I'm kind of interested in finding out how she turned out. What life gave to her, and what she made out of it. She was so smart, so creative and such a natural leader. But the last thing I heard of her was a few years ago, when Kaysie ran into her brother, who said she wasn't doing very well. I think her demons were too much for her.

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This post was inspired by...

#4 -  Describe a time you saw someone getting picked on.

Spin Cycle: Dream Lane

I grew up on 16 acres of land just west of Austin in the Texas Hill Country.

Anyone from Austin might know the area if I say it was right across the road from the County Line on the Hill barbecue restaurant.

For non-Austinites, it's kind of hard to describe the area. It's very hilly, but not mountainous. It's heavily wooded with evergreen juniper trees (Daddy always corrected anyone who foolishly called them cedar trees). It's not ranch land or farm land. But it is beautiful land. It's land with a view. Here are a couple of recent pictures of the view out the back, taken by my friend who now owns the house and land...

We were very secluded. I used to be able to go outside in my underwear to get something to wear off the clothesline, because there was no one around to see me! It was a good 10 minute walk to our closest neighbors house. We were surrounded by nothing but land and trees and wildlife.

When I was a teenager, I started having a recurring dream.

In it, I would drive out of my driveway and take a left at the main road.  I would then take a left turn onto a small street. Maybe "street" isn't the right word. "Lane" maybe? It was broad and wound it's way through the trees. It was extremely hilly. And there was a neighborhood of large houses on both sides of the lane.

The thing is, this lane and neighborhood didn't exist. In real life, there was nothing there but trees.

These dreams went on for YEARS. They weren't usually very eventful. I'd just be driving around in this fictional neighborhood. Sometimes it was nighttime, and sometimes the day. Often, there would be a creek, and the land would dip down into it. I don't remember ever going into one of the houses, or seeing any people. I would just drive and drive.

A few years ago, Jimmy and I visited Austin. After visiting the old homestead, I decided I wanted to take a drive west down the road to see what the neighborhood was looking like. I knew there had been lots of new building and subdividing.

Suddenly, there on the left was a small road.

"Turn there!" I shouted to Jimmy. He did.

The road was broad and wound it's way through the trees. It was extremely hilly. And there was a neighborhood of large houses on both sides of the lane.

I almost hyperventilated.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. It's HERE!"

Jimmy thought I'd lost my mind.

It was my dream lane! Just where it was supposed to be. I felt like I'd been there a hundred times, because...I had.

So what do y'all think? Just a coincidence or do you think I could have been having some sort of precognitive visions of something that was going to exist 20 years later?

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Thank you SO VERY much to all of you who have played along with my very first Spin Cycle! Now do the polite thing, and check out everybody else's spin on dreaminess...

Aimee at Aimee Writes

Sarah at 32 Flavors

Peg at Square Peg in a Round Hole 

Erica at Pines Lake Redhead

Jennifer at Sprite's Keeper

Kendra at Life in the slow lane

Vandy at The Testosterone Three and Me

Claire at incognitus scriptor

Keely at The Un Mom

CaJoh at Ca-Joh - new on Thursday night!

Michele Renee at Must Be a Full Moon - new on Thursday night!

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie - new on Friday!!!

Stacy at Stacy Uncorked - new on Friday!!!

Patty at Pancakes Gone Awry - new on Friday!!

Mama Badger at Out of the Boondocks - new on Friday!!

Go check  out each and every one of them!

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NEXT WEEK on The Spin Cycle...

Taking a Stand

In honor of Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, we're gonna go all rabble rouser around here. Speaking out for something we believe in.

Have you ever really, seriously taken a stand on an issue? Did standing up for your beliefs get you in trouble? What issues in your life are important enough for you actually end the silence and make a statement?

Maybe this is your chance to take a stand. What do you believe strongly in and want to share with others? This is your chance to stand up on your soapbox. Make your argument.

Your issue could be global, national, local or just within your very own house. You could take a stand on global warming or...the laundry.

I once ended up making the national news back when I lived in Dallas by started a petition to bring back "real" Coke. Remember that nasty "New Coke"? One of the greatest marketing disasters in history? I worked in a popular bookstore, and put the petition on the checkout desk. I ended up with thousands of signatures. And of course, they returned "Classic Coke", so I like to think I had a hand in that.

So go for it. Give me what you've got.

I do ask (though I probably don't need to, because y'all are all a nice, thoughtful group) that if anybody chooses to take a side in an issue, particularly anything political or "hot button", just be respectful of others differing viewpoints, and refrain from mean-spiritedness.

I am also hereby unveiling my BRAND NEW SPIN BUTTON! Created for me by none other than the brilliant and talented Keely, The Un Mom!! She's my secret weapon. Isn't it just the cutest thing you ever did see? Aren't you jealous?! Please use it well...

 

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The Greatest Gift I Never Received

I have known my best friend, Kaysie, since the day she was born.

Our mothers were friends before they were pregnant, and my mother swore that we had been conceived on the same night. According to Mama, there was nothing on television but the 1960 Democratic National Convention, so both couples had to find something else to do with their time.

So while John F. Kennedy was busy leading us into the New Frontier...

 

...our parents were just getting busy. We were due on the same day, but I came two weeks early.

Though I've never had a sister, Kaysie is what I've always assumed a sister would be like. Or what I hoped a sister would be like. All through our childhood, we were inseparable. We did everything together. Two peas in a pod. Always. We spent so much time at each others homes that our families pretty much considered us extra family members. I always considered Kaysie's mom and dad my "other" parents. And I know that Mama and Daddy considered Kaysie a second daughter.

 

 

Kaysie has been, in some way, part of almost every seminal moment of my life. She was my maid of honor. Twice.

On the night Daddy died, I was alone with him in the hospital. About a minute after he died holding my hand, I walked out in the hallway and looked up. There was Kaysie, coming to visit us. She dropped her bag and briefcase and ran to me, and we sat with his body until Mama could get there.

When Mama died in her bed in Texas, and I was in California, it was Kaysie who went over and sat with her body in my stead, until the coroners and mortuary took her away.

As girls, we had big dreams. Lots and lots of dreams. For years, we planned to both go to law school, and open a law practice together. We planned on building the office in a treehouse. It was to be very fancy. Alas, while Kaysie went on to achieve this goal (Daddy was SO proud of her), I merely played a lawyer on television.

Many of our dreams involved various movie stars and rock singers whom we planned to marry. We would write long, elaborate short stories in which we would fall in love with John Kennedy Jr. or Billy Joel. We had a long, intense, odd obsession with Tim Curry from Rocky Horror Picture Show.

And, of course, like most girls, we planned to have babies. At some point, I chose my babies' names, which I think may have had something to do with Upstairs, Downstairs. If I had a boy, he was to be named James. A girl - Elizabeth. It was known. I had called dibs on these names.

Years went by. Kaysie and her wonderful husband, Bruce, had their son, Sam. I remained childless.

Six years later, at age 40, Kaysie became pregnant again. This time with a girl. She and Bruce started discussing girl names, and Bruce decided he wanted to name their daughter...Elizabeth. Kaysie absolutely refused. Elizabeth was my girl name.

Now you have to understand, that by now, I had been trying to get pregnant for YEARS. I was 40. It wasn't looking good. Bruce argued that she was being ridiculous. That I would never have a daughter, why couldn't they just name their child what they wanted to?

But Kaysie stood firm. She would not take Elizabeth away from me. She would not take my dream of being a mother away from me. She knew that if she named her daughter Elizabeth, I would know that she believed that it would never happen for me.

And so her darling daughter was named Katherine.

And a year later, I, at long last, conceived a child. I believe that Kaysie's faith in me helped tremendously.

My child, as you know, was a boy, my Jude. So...there is no little Elizabeth.

The nicest gift anyone ever gave me, and I never used it. But I hope Kaysie knows how thankful I am that she gave it to me.

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This story was inspired by...

 Prompt #2 - The best gift ever.

RTT: Old People, Joke and Balls

Christmas is progressing nicely in the Second Blooming household. Miraculously, ALL the gift shopping is done and now I can concentrate on planning my Feast of the Seven Fishes for Christmas Eve. Expect a menu in a few days.

In the meantime, I've been doing a little baking. Yesterday, I told Jude that I was going to bake some Christmas cookies, and would love for him to help. He cried "Hurray!", gave me a big hug and said "That's the perfect Mother-Son Christmas activity!" I swear to God. Where in the hell did he get that? Could he have been reading Ladies Home Journal behind my back?

Anyway, we made these, which were one of Mama's best Norwegian Christmas cookies. Buttery and nutty, and not too sweet.

Lilli Kages

5 cups flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1 cup almonds, chopped fine (I use the food processor)

2 cups butter

1 cup sugar

2 eggs

3 tsp. vanilla

egg whites, beaten

colored sugar for decorating

Sift together flour and baking powder. Add almonds. In a separate large bowl, cream butter and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla. Add dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Form dough into 1 inch balls. Dip each ball first in the beaten egg whites, then in red or green colored sugar. Place on cookie sheets, colored sugar side up. Flatten each ball with a fork, making a little waffle pattern. Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 8 to 10 minutes, until they are just browning on the bottom.

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You have to try this out: Go to Google.com. Type in "Let it snow" then enter. Voila! A Winter Wonderland! Be sure to use the "Defrost" button when you need it.

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Yesterday, Jude's Cub Scout pack went caroling at St. John of God old folks home. I, of course, opened my big mouth and volunteered to lead it up, but I must say it was really worth it. I printed out sheets of Christmas song lyrics, and tried to rehearse them a bit. The dads seemed to consider it a rather radical idea when I suggested that we all try to sing in the same key.  But the boys rose to the occasion and were very, very sweet and enthusiastic. Lots of happy old people.

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Because everybody deserves a "gift of pleasure".

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My Daddy's Christmas Joke -

Once there was a small church in a small town, which was in desperate need of new hymnals. The old ones were worn out and falling apart, and the young pastor desperately wanted to get them new ones before Christmas. Unfortunately, the church was low on funds. So the pastor started asking around to local businesses, to see if anyone would be kind enough to buy the churches new hymnals. He was delighted when the local drugstore agreed to foot the bill. The new hymnals arrived on December 24th, just in time for Christmas services. On Christmas morning, the congregation all opened their beautiful new hymnals and began to sing...

Hark the herald angels sing,

Carter's Pills are just the thing!

Peace on earth and mercy mind,

Two for adult, one for child.

(Every Christmas morning, one of the only times Mama and I could drag Daddy to church, they'd sing Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Daddy would murmur these lyrics under his breath. Daddy and I would get into a giggling fit. Mama never figured out why.)

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For all of my Jewish readers...

 

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After making the Norwegian Christmas cookies, I made a batch of Mama's Bourbon Balls. I've mentioned before how Mama and her best friend, my Aunt Margaret, got together almost every afternoon to either cook/bake/can or play gin. And drink bourbon. But sometimes the bourbon actually made it's way into the food. I remember one particularly productive afternoon when these two ladies started experimenting with the contents of Aunt Margaret's liquor cabinet. They made Rum Balls, Kahlua Balls, Creme de Menthe Balls, Creme de Cacao Balls. Just went crazy with the balls. Their only unsuccessful version was Scotch Balls. Sort of taking a good idea one step too far. Anyway, here's their recipe. Feel free to experiment. WARNING: Not for children. Fairly boozy.

Mama and Aunt Margaret's Bourbon Balls

2 tbsp. cocoa

1 cup powdered sugar

1/4 cup bourbon

2 tbsp. light corn syrup

2 cups crushed vanilla wafers (food processor)

1 cup finely chopped nuts (food processor)

Extra powdered sugar for dusting

Sift cocoa and powdered sugar into a bowl. Combine liquor and corn syrup, then mix into the cocoa and sugar. Add vanilla wafers and nuts; mix well. Form into 3/4 inch balls and roll in powdered sugar. Let dry for a few hours. Yields 3 dozen. These freeze well.

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My choir sang this on Sunday. Not a traditional Christmas song, but certainly in the Advent spirit. I'm afraid that while my choir has soul, we're not quite THIS soulful. Enjoy...

 

Very good then. Run over to Stacy's for many more random carolers.

A Very Drama Major Christmas

It was December 1980.

That summer, I had moved into a large 5-bedroom house with my four best fellow University of Texas Drama Major friends - Margaret, Lannyl, Becca and Randy.

To say that this house had fallen into disrepair is a serious understatement. Wallpaper peeled from all the walls and half the kitchen tiles were missing, We had no air conditioning and open-flame gas heaters.The entire house listed drastically to the west.The electricity was so tentative that we blew a fuse every time we turned on more than 2 electrical appliances at the same time.

We had spent the entire 100 + degree  summer fixing the place up. We peeled off the 50-year old wallpaper, painted where we could, scraped the ancient linoleum off the kitchen floor and replaced with with peel-and-press tile and basically made the place inhabitable.

And I must say, the house was cheap. I remember that we paid $500 a month, which we split 5 ways.

But most importantly, it was OURS. We christened it "The San Gabriel Estate" (it was on San Gabriel St.), but it soon became known as simply "The Estate", and was destined to become part of  UT Drama Department folklore. "The Estate" quickly became the center of all drama department social functions. That's right, Party Central.

When Christmas rolled around, we decided to host a Christmas party. But not just any Christmas party, a Christmas Cotillion. We were, after all, in the South. We even wrote out elegant(ish) invitations and hand delivered them. Everyone was asked to don "formal attire". I'll never forget the dress I wore - a vintage '50's ballgown with a sweetheart neckline and a hoopskirt made of layers and layers of bright red tulle. Fabulous.

To prepare for the Cotillion, we felt we needed to decorate our home in a festive way. Unfortunately, we were all poor. I mean really poor. Becca had been selling plasma for months to have enough money to buy Christmas presents for her family. We were eating nothing but ramen noodles (4 for $1 at the Kash 'N Karry) and washing our hair with Ivory Liquid. It was sad. We seemed to have spent all of our money on beer and vintage ballgowns.

We scrounged around and swiped as many old Christmas decorations from our parents as we could. I remember Mama letting me take a box of old gold tinsel garland, and we covered the living room with candles and tinsel...

But we needed a Christmas tree. So we all piled into my old pickup truck and drove to my parents house. I grew up on 16 acres of land just west of Austin. We took off into the woods and chopped down a small cedar tree, which I must admit was more of a bush, and we dragged it home with us. We didn't have a tree stand, so we just kind of leaned it in the corner.

We popped popcorn and made popcorn chains, and decorated the tree with our pilfered lights and ornaments. But it just didn't seem complete. Suddenly, Becca ran upstairs with glee. She came back down with an old plaid taffeta skirt she'd worn in high school. We proceeded to rip it into ribbons and tie it into bows all over the tree. And voila...

The Christmas Cotillion was legendary. Much, MUCH fun was had by all.

The next morning, we all came downstairs and found out that some smartaleck had added extra decorations to our beautiful "tree' - a bunch of condoms and tampons! Hardeeharhar.

For those of you who keep up with things around here, you know that a couple of years ago, I had an amazing reunion with all my old college friends. Our precious Becca had died, and we all felt we HAD to find and embrace each other again. The theme for the Saturday night of our reunion? The Cotillion! Aren't we all fabulous...

A plan for another reunion is in the works for next June. I can't wait!

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This post was inspired by

Prompt #4: Share a story from your college years.

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This is your last chance to get in on my fabulous Christmas giveaway!!

You have until today, Thursday, December 15 at 5:00 pm PT to get your name in for a chance to win a box of GORGEOUS A Papier Letterpress Stationery. PLEASE check out this link for more info...HERE.

I fear that this picture doesn't do this stationery justice. It is beautiful and elegant. You SHOULD enter my drawing. Again, the link is HERE. Just follow the instructions. It's EASY. Don't miss out! Good luck to everybody!!