Wordless Wednesday: Band Photo Session, Take 2

A couple of months ago, my oldest son and his friend needed photos for their first CD cover and posters. We had fun doing ones like this and this. But now they have added a drummer and violinist to their band and needed new photos. What a fiasco! The subjects were unruly, the lighting was bad, and it was really to chilly to be wearing shorts or a prom dress…





We finally got one that was just okay. They are using it for the poster advertising their upcoming concert this weekend.


Trust me; it looks better poster-sized!

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Monday Memory: Easter Dresses

I wish I'd done what my sister-in-law did. She saved every one of her daughter's Easter dresses, and this past year, she made a quilt using material from all those dresses. It always seemed silly to me to save dresses when I could pass them on to friends, but now I'm regretting that I don't have a stack of sweet dresses and pretty white shoes. I loved the one she wore in the photo above, when she was about four.

At 12, my girl still loves picking out her Easter dress each year, except she's not so little anymore. Somehow she went from a little girl's size 10-12 last Easter to shopping in the Juniors department this year. Her dress is a size 3. Her shoes are a size 8, bigger than mine, and they're not cute little Mary Janes. No folded-over lacy socks or white hat for my girl either.

I'm glad she's growing up; I really am. But I wish I had a few more years for those sweet little dresses—and I wish I'd saved every one of them. What a sweet quilt that would have been.

On the Menu

With the warmer weather, I am suddenly completely tired of soups and casseroles and ready for anything on the grill and sandwiches. I like simplicity when warm weather hits, and the forecast shows a warm, sunny week ahead.

So on this week's menu, we'll be having a summer staple, hamburgers on the grill, and a few new, mostly Rachael Ray experiments:

Marinated Pork Chops with Pineapple Salsa (found on Susie's Homemade)
Three Vegetable Penne with Tarragon-Basil Pesto (Rachael Ray)
Smoked Mozzerella and Chicken Sandwiches (Rachael Ray)
Spicy Hot Pot with Noodles (Rachel Ray, found at I'm Running to Eat)

And that's what we'll be eating this week in SmallWorld, unless Things Come Up. One never knows. Easter's coming up this weekend. I don't know what we'll be fixing or who will be coming to our house, but I know I'm going to make this Strawberry Cheesecake Trifle. For more menu ideas, click on the On the Menu link above and visit Menu Plan Monday at Organizing Junkie and Tasty Tuesdays at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam.

17

Seventeen years ago I was still 4 hours away from delivering my firstborn child. Right about this time I was so hungry I could hardly stand it, and my mother-in-law brought Dr. H. and our friend Suzie lunch. Which they at in front of me, while I was laboring—and starving. Dumb ice chips.

Still, it was all worth it, for him.



Yep, I'd do it all over again. Today, he's 17. I love him because he's my son. I like him because he's smart, funny, and kind. And he has great taste in literature and music, which are very high on my list.

Next year, he'll be away at college on his birthday. He got a birthday postcard from the college where he'll be attending that read, "Happy Birthday! Hope you spend the next 4 birthdays with us." How cruel was that?

But today, it's cinnamon rolls for breakfast and sushi for dinner, after he gets home from work. And a really nice surprise, coming up later. He's a lucky kid. And I'm so blessed that he's mine.

Wordless Wednesday: Anniversary Weekend

A cabin on the river, excellent food, three full games of Trivial Pursuit (yes, we are nerds)…

and an 8-mile hike in our big backyard, the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. (You can read all about our hike at Randy's blog, 900 Miles.)

My calves are sore, my heart is happy. Tomorrow, it's 21 years.

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Monday Memory: Rings

Our 21st anniversary is coming up in a few days, and for some reason I had this picture stuck in my head when I thought about a Monday Memory. Randy's holding my ring, and our rings, in their utter simplicity, are one of those things I love so much about us.

We decided to get married, 21 and 1/2 years ago. We needed wedding rings, but of course we didn't have any money. So we went to a local store called Brendle's, which is pretty much like Sears. A step up from Walmart, you might say. I wanted a simple gold band; he wanted a slender white-gold one. Our rings cost $19.99 each. And that was all there was to it.

It wasn't until much later that I learned that people—real people that I actually know—spend thousands of dollars on wedding rings. And that made me love my $20 ring even more.

I still have my ring, although for our 10th anniversary, Randy bought me an anniversary band. Just a tiny bit fancier, but still simple. Like us. And I wouldn't trade it for the biggest rock on earth.

Well, unless my fingers get too fat and I have to cut the ring off. It could happen.

So tell me: how much did you spend on your wedding ring? Just kidding! I really don't want to know. I just hope it looks as right on your finger on your 21st anniversary as mine does.

Thursday Miscellany

* I'd like to think of something profound to blog about, but truthfully my brain feels so cluttered that I can't even think of a Facebook status. I don't want my brain to be cluttered. We're actually taking spring break this week, so my brain should be resting. But it's not.

* Why do the days always go so fast during a day off? I don't get that.

* Target has really cute sundresses. I went there today to help my daughter get a birthday gift for a party this weekend. But I didn't buy a cute sundress. I bought a shirt that looks horrid on me, and now I have to take it back. That makes my brain cluttered. I tremendously dislike returning merchandise.

* Tomorrow afternoon we leave for our anniversary getaway weekend in the mountains. That's another reason my brain is cluttered. I have to think about where the kids are all going, packing, getting lesson plans done so that I don't have to do them when I get back, etc. But as soon as we leave tomorrow, my brain will be instantly uncluttered.

* Decluttering is what the mountains do best. Breathing deeply of all that green—one can't help but be relaxed and renewed.

* Perhaps I'll even be profound when I return.

May you have an uncluttered weekend!

Carnival

The Carnival of Homeschooling is up at Beverly's Homeschooling Blog.

Of particular interest to me:
* Alasandra addresses that dumb AP article that's circulating wildly. Yeah. What she said.

* The Thinking Mother ruminates on the slacking teen. I hate to be thought of as dishonest, but I have to say that my teen is great, and I really mean that. But it occurs to me that some might define his sleeping until 11 a.m. as being a slacker. Perhaps I should go wake him up.

* I'm always interested in posts that deal with high schoolers, and this one is so utterly different than what's happening in our family that I had to read it twice. Mandatory marriage by 21 always surprises me, although I've heard families in our own support group embrace this philosophy. Not for us, but I do find people interesting.

I also contributed the latest WordSmithery lesson. I really do intend to publish the next one sooner.

There are a bunch of carnivals out there that interest me. I enjoy reading posts of all kinds whether I agree with the author or not, although I must admit I only scan if the grammar is atrocious or the layout cumbersome. Or if there are too many ads. I could read carnivals all day, but then I really would be a slacker.

Wordless Wednesday: St. Patrick's Dad

St. Patrick's Day was a big deal where I come from: parties, green hats, parades. Not so much where I live now. Fortunately, I have my Dad here with us, and we've always played up his Irishness tremendously. It's an annual affair to trace our Irish heritage with him while we eat our corned beef and cabbage. (And this year, I made it instead of my mom!) Andrew O'Riley and his brother came over in the 1860s from Ireland to escape the famine. Andrew dropped the "O" and begat James Welsh Riley, who married Aretha and had 10 children, of which my grandmother Gladys was the second to last. It's not too far of a stretch from Ireland to my Dad—just 3 generations. And a continent. And, hard to imagine, 150 years.

It's a long way from Clare to here.

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Monday Memory: Honeymoon Cabin

This coming weekend, Dr. H. and I are going away for our anniversary to a little cabin in the mountains. We could go someplace fancier. We could fly somewhere or explore a new city or get a big room in a nice hotel. But that's just not us. We started this journey 21 years ago in a cabin in the mountains, and we're suckers for tradition.

A lot has changed since the day I snapped that picture of Dr. H. at Roan Mountain, TN, on our honeymoon 21 years ago. We look different. We think differently. We have kids, pets, furniture that isn't from the Salvation Army, a real dining room table. Two computers. Our own house. Shelves of books. A bunch of degrees. Twenty-one years ago we thought we had all the friends we'd ever need or want. We never imagined a world with new people who have added tremendous dimensions to our lives, who have filled in hollow places and smoothed out rough spots along the way.

Twenty-one years ago we thought about how we could buy groceries on $25/week and what band we would be going to see play in the upcoming week. We dreamed about having a family and picked out names. We took long, barefoot walks on the cracked sidewalks of the Tree Streets. We waited for our friends to pop in the front door of our big old house, which we rented for $175/month. When it rained, we pulled back the braided rug and put buckets under the drips.

A lot has changed. We loved each other a little then, in the whole scheme of things, although we thought it was a lot. How could we possibly have known how immeasurably, wildly strong our love would grow in 21 years?

We are here, in the place we always wanted to be. And returning to the simplicity of a quiet cabin in the mountains is the perfect way to remember, appreciate, and celebrate.

(But I sure do miss Dr. H's mullet.)