House Divided

I grew up the youngest of three girls. Our Dad, to my knowledge, didn’t seem to mind missing out on doing “boy stuff” i.e. football, baseball, basketball. We girls each had a horse, and we spent our downtime riding. Many of our weekends were spent at horse auctions or participating in small-town rodeo’s; TC was a pretty good barrel racer and Lance, the horse she “rescued” from an imminent glue factory roundup, proved to be formidable around those 3 barrels.



Once the house emptied out, Toby to Colorado College and TC to K-State… I remember doing some of that “boy stuff” with my Dad. We would go hit a bucket of balls, his back was in too bad of shape to play 18 holes but we could manage to get through 100 balls in an evening. We would also watch Royals baseball together. Those were the glory days; George Brett, Freddie Patek, Darryl Porter (May he rest I peace), Willie Wilson, Frank White… heck, I even remember Cookie Rojas at first base! And Whitey Herzog was our coach; yep, those sure were the days!


That was about the time I fell in love with KU hoops too. Rock Chalk Jayhawk, go KU! I learned and loved the legends of Phog Allen, the “Father of Basketball Coaching” and James Naismith; he invented the game of basketball, originally hanging two peach baskets where the modern netted baskets are today. I remember my first KU game in Allen Fieldhouse and the awe I felt at seeing the banner I'd always heard about, “Pay Heed All Who Enter; BEWARE OF THE PHOG", hanging way up in the rafters. Legend has it, coach Allen's spirit haunts KU's opponents when they play at his namesake.  Larry Brown was the coach in those days and we were part of the now defunct Big 8 Conference. College basketball was nothing like it is today. Back then, heck… we had only recently been introduced to cable TV. But once the 1987-88 season of “Danny and the Miracle’s” swept through town, you were hard pressed not to find a KU fan, especially where I lived which is just 30 miles northeast of Lawrence, Kansas… home to “Phog”Allen Fieldhouse.


Personally, I did not choose KU for my college education, a regret I will always have. I had instead set my sights on the University of Michigan; yes, I was almost a Wolverine. Suffice it to say I was following a boy there, and it didn’t work out in the end. He ended up at Washburn pursuing a Law degree and I majored in “Cosgrove’s and Mike’s” at Rockhurst College. That love affair ended after six years, my love affair with KU basketball continues to this day; it does not suck to be a Jayhawks basketball fan.


Mike is a KU grad, so life has always been easy in our house, not like those “house divided” folks. You know the ones I mean… he graduated KU; she went to K-State. Iowa Hawkeyes for him, Iowa State Cyclones for her… what a drag; so much bad Juju in the house on game day.


Today however, that all changed. I have accepted, fully and finally that we are now “one of those”; our peaceful coexistence and camaraderie regarding all things Jayhawks has ended.


Jordan, our junior in high school is a Kansas State Wildcats fan. This is not as much a huge surprise to me as it is an acknowledgement of failure as a parent; the signs have been there for a while. TC was a Wildcat and her daughter Ashley, who Jordie adores and patterns herself after, has followed in her mother’s pawprints.  The stars are clearly aligned against me regarding any future for Jordan as a Jayhawk.


Now I have dressed this kid in Crimson and Blue since the day she was born. We were watching home video’s last weekend and there she was just a baby, on St. Pete’s Beach wearing a Jayhawk T-shirt over her bathing suit to protect her delicate skin from the sun. A couple of years later she wore a KU sweatshirt on an airplane to Colorado. We still have the picture of our pilot holding “Flat Stanley”, disguised as Drew Gooden, in the cockpit. This is the kid who stood in line with me so Jerod Haase could sign our copy of “Floor Burns”, the book he wrote which is a chronology of his senior year at Kansas. For Christmas 2002, Santa left Jordan an authentic KU basketball signed by every single player and coach on the team that season, among them: Nick Collison, Kirk Hinrich, Keith Langford, Michael Lee, Aaron Miles, Wayne Simien, Roy Williams and be still my heart… Danny Manning. I mean come on… who gets that… besides a little girl groomed to be a Jayhawk forever.

This evening is the big Kansas basketball showdown. The Jayhawks are in Manhattan to take on the Wildcats in Bramlage Coliseum. K-State is proving to be a good team this year, they are currently ranked 11th in the country (AP Polls) and are 3rd in the Big 12. (We are currently ranked 2nd in the nation and are poised to move up to the #1 spot the next time the rankings come out. Just sayin…) But their inconsistencies such as knocking off “then” #1 in the country Texas, losing to a scrappy Mizzou, and barely getting by Baylor this week does nothing for our pre-game jitters. We are after all, playing in the “Octagon of Doom”.


Jordan is in Manhattan this weekend for the debauchery. Our niece Ashley is “in charge” and we are comforted by the fact that Jordan being just 16 years old, looks like she is 16 years old. No Aggieville for her tonight… (Hold your comments folks, let me have my fantasy!).


Mike and I are heading to Lawrence to watch the game with our “Jayhawk” friends Suzie and Norm. Apparently, a swanky new Hotel just opened in Lawrence near the campus with a great bar we’re going to check out. A far cry from the pandemonium going on in Aggieville or on Mass St. tonight, but surely geared more toward our speed.


Jordie is in Manhattan amongst “fellow” Wildcatters, Mikey and I are in Lawrence cheering on our Hawks.


We are: A House Divided.

You Say Tomato, She Says Tomahto…

                             


I say “Eh”…



I’ve never been a fan of the tomato. I don’t add them to my salad; I’m not tempted by the cherry variety that I set out on the counter for my kids in the summer. If I was sitting along the canal in Venice, and a dreamy Italian man offered me fresh tomatoes with homemade mozzarella, I’d only reach for the cheese. And the vino of course!


I like red sauce on pasta only. I do not want it on chicken; I do not want it on veal. I only like it sparingly on my pizza.


Sun dried tomatoes however, I adore. The only explanation I can dream up for this anomaly is, you soak anything in good extra virgin olive oil and it turns to magic.


But last night … I started a love affair with the simple tomato.


Since trying to shed some excess poundage as of the first of the year, I knew fresh fruits and vegetables would have to become part of my daily diet. Typically my day, culinarily speaking… is comprised of processed foods. Even when trying to lose weight, I live on Lean Cuisines, Power Bars, Slim-fast shakes; rarely does a fresh fruit or vegetable enter my body. I know now, "I’ve got to change my evil ways... baby!”


Enter the Barefoot Contessa, aka: Ina Garten.

Mike has lots of cookbooks hanging around. Sometimes I flip through the pages in hopes of finding something, anything… to inspire me to cook. After numerous failed attempts, I am finally at peace with marking the pages and leaving them out for Mikey to fix.

One day recently, I was sitting in my friend Kim’s swanky new kitchen watching her seamlessly throw together a pan of fresh veggies to roast; they looked delish. When I expressed how impressed I was by her culinary talent, she shamelessly reached over and held up the Contessa’s “Back to Basics” cookbook.


“Hey, we’ve got that” I declared having recognized the cover. Then Kim poured us another glass of wine and that was that.


A week or so later I was back to carousing the cookbooks and there she was… the Contessa herself, right under the Artisan Bread cookbook Toby sent Mike for Christmas. I thumbed through the pages and found the “oven roasted vegetables” recipe. Not only did I make that, (which was a piece of sugar-free cake!) but the “parmesan-roasted broccoli” was to die for too; the kids liked it so much I’ve made it two more times since!


Admittedly, if the Contessa didn’t have such gorgeous pictures of food accompanying her recipes, I doubt I would have ever tried the “roasted tomatoes with basil”. It was after all, well… tomatos. But I could almost hear them sizzling off the glossy page of that cookbook.  The sweet smell of the rich balsamic vinegar, coupled with the roasted garlic carmelized in extra virgin olive oil was oozing through as well.  I could smell it, I swear . So last night, I gave them a try.


Oh my God.

That’s really all I can say. OMG, OMG… who knew a simple tomato, a winter tomato at that, could be so damn tasty?


I went right back to the store today and bought ten more. I cooked them up for lunch and ate every single one of them. I ate TEN tomatoes… in one day!


You may say tomato, and she may say tomahto.


I just say… "bring ‘em on, roasted with basil please!"


Note:  The picture in the cookbook is oh so much prettier than mine.  But I could not find it online to link  anywhere, so my image will have to suffice! 

Tongy Gold

Tony is nearly settled in his new temporary home: Kabul Afghanistan. It was an arduous journey with his final destination within Afghanistan not quite decided yet. The choices are narrowed down and one seems to be as miserable as the next. Flip a coin, they all suck!



Before Tony left, I set him up with his own blog using one of Blogger’s competitors, Wordpress. For any of you thinking about creating a blog for yourself, Blogger is much more user friendly initially, but does not offer as many bells and whistles as Wordpress.


For Tony, photos and videos will be a big part of his blog; blogger does not have video link capability yet so the decision was an easy one regarding which service to use. Mikey and I bought Tony a Flip camcorder for Christmas and it will lend itself well to this venue. We're looking forward to him utilizing that application as well as Flicker for his still photos.


Until Tony is a bit more settled and can find a little “down time”, I am managing the blog from KC. I have already posted a few short posts and today Tony sent his first lengthy entry in an email, which I cut and pasted to the blog. So for all intents and purposes, “Tongy Gold” (the name of Tony and Kat’s Honey business run out of their home in Tonganoxie, Kansas) is up and running!


Check it out, bookmark it to favorites, comment often, and pass it along to any friends who might be interested in following Tony on his journey. I promise you this… it will always be informative, it will come from a unique perspective, and will never lack entertainment value; Tony has a way with words!

http://tongygold.wordpress.com/


Enjoy

What do you want to do this week, Chris?

"Good As Gold" sculpture by Donald Lipiski

The beginning of a new year for me typically starts out with high hopes. Lots of changes are on the docket to make; most are repeats of past failures: eat right, exercise more, do a good deed daily, and bump up our worship services to something more than quarterly. Typical stuff, all good intentions.



This year however, I have found myself pondering over it a bit more. What I’ve concluded is, I can’t take one more year of the same. The same broken promises to myself, the same unrealized goals, the same view from my gerbil cage. I need some new inspiration and definitely some new scenery to go with it!


This isn’t a particularly brand new revelation for me. My M.O. is to fantasize in January, fail in February and accept the mundane as my status quo by March. So is this my lot in life? Let me ponder some more…


NO!


As my mother often says when confronting a challenge, “There are more ways to skin a cat”, (my apologies to cat lovers and PETA!). If you can’t go over it, or through it, try going around it. Or under it. Or knock the damn thing down. Whatever it takes.


Job 1 is to identify what” it” is. For me, it’s a rut. I’m in a rut, and I’m the only one who can get me out of it.


So this is my solution: a proposal to myself. I’m calling it “What do you want to do this week, Chris?”


Net/net… there are 52 weeks in a year. My goal is to step out of my box each week by doing something that I often “say” I want to do, but never actually get out of the starting gate. These will be for the most part, simple pleasures. Not costly or particularly time consuming, these are activities that I can do during the day, during the week.


Our communities, if we take the time to notice, offer a plethora of opportunities. Some are there for fun, some are there to help, and some are there to give us an opportunity to help others. I’m open to them all.


Make no mistake, I still want to eat right, exercise more, do more good deeds and get a little closer to my God. But my hope is that by stimulating my life in other ways, these shortcomings will become less of a focus and perhaps even, less difficult for me to overcome.


Officially, today falls in the second full week of the year. Because I am O.C.D., I cannot fathom not starting with week one! So play along with me here as I post something somewhat lame that I did last week. I promise to try and spice it up going forward.


Week 1: I dropped in for a few hours last Sunday at the Matt Ross Community Center in downtown old Overland Park. The purpose was to shake up my fitness routine by swimming some laps. Mission accomplished. An unexpected benefit however was rediscovering that “community feel”. There was so much going on there… who knew? Probably everyone but me; hence the need for my 52 week journey!


Week 2: I am writing this post from the Plaza branch of the Kansas City Missouri Public Library. I am not a novice at this particular activity, but it’s definitely been too long since my last visit. Next time, I should visit during a different time of day in order to feel more of its essence; I’m certain the landscape changes drastically as the day winds down. The guy sitting at the next table has been reading newspapers since I got here. He’s been talking to them too… I enjoyed his commentary on the Mark McGuire debacle even though he wasn’t intentionally sharing it with me. I couldn’t help but watch when he pulled a large Ziploc from his backpack. In it were some fresh wipes; he pulled one out and washed his face. I looked away but he really didn’t notice me anyway. He was busy unpacking then repacking his backpack. Then he started layering his many pieces of winter-wear on his body. I bet, the thought occurred to me, he might be heading back to a shelter at this time of day to secure himself a bed and a meal. Those are real commodities on the coldest of nights like we are experiencing now; best to plan ahead. Young students are starting to arrive and fill up the same chairs left behind by the many homeless people I have encountered. Again, this is nothing more than my imagination but my guess is they’re coming from the campus of UMKC and killing some time studying before they start their shift as a server at one of the many Plaza eating establishments. I’m not too far away from the Children’s section of the library; it boasts some of the better views from its windows. I can hear the buzz from there increasing, the after-school crowd is filing in. I am sitting at a window table just above Ward Parkway, which offers me a fabulous dual view of the city east of here, and the Country Club Plaza just to the north. It also reminds me that traffic is picking up and it is probably best I hit the road back to the suburbs soon. Days like this make me look forward to next week and what it might offer, as long as I make the effort to look for it again.


So stay tuned, and if you have something coming up that lends itself to company, give me a holler, hopefully I will say yes!




Note: I have yet to give much thought as to how to go about sharing my weekly activities. For now, my intention will be to post each week and title it “What do you want to do this week, Chris?”   Sounds like a plan at least!

Gasping for Air

I did it; I went back to the gym last week.


Nothing crazy. 20 minutes of cardio, 30 minutes circuit training, a little bit of free weights followed by another 15 o 20 minutes more cardio. Twice I did this and it felt great.

Truth be told however, I would never have taken such a bold step on my own. When it’s me against procrastination, procrastination always wins.

My secret weapon was the weather. Oh wait, I said I was being truthful; the kids made me do it. After nearly a month of “holiday fun” with them, school finally beckoned them back last Tuesday. By that evening, we were all bracing for the big snowstorm which we were warned would be followed by tundra type conditions on Friday.  Warnings became reality, which resulted in three long snowdays, followed by a weekend with frozen pipes! 

It would not be an understatement to say, “They were driving me nuts”. We also have my mom’s dog Murphy for two months while she sunbathes in Mexico. (Was that snarky? Good.) Having two young dogs in the house is tantamount to toddlers. The walls were closing in.

Yesterday I was a complete slacker; it was way too cold to even consider going out in my book. Even though it wasn’t much warmer today, cabin fever was rearing its ugly head again.

Knowing my propensity to bore easily, I thought I would switch things up a bit and try something new. Jordie and I trekked down to the Matt Ross Community Center, shelled out 7 bucks a piece (teach us not to be members) and headed to the lap pool.

Holy-heart-pumping-crap…. has anyone swam lately? Our goal was 10 laps, a lap being there and back. After one completed lap the rest were clearly in jeopardy. Really, we were sucking air.

Freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke and butterfly. Ok… you caught me; I did not to do the butterfly, but Jordie did. I substituted it with the dead-man’s float. There were some kids playing in the lane over and I relied on them to create a current for me. A lap is a lap folks! For two of our laps we actually sprinted the length of the pool. Again, I was unable to keep up with my 16-year-old daughter; about 3 quarters of the way down the lane, the water was over my head. I would tread water until Jordie made it back to me then we would sprint back. Can you say “inhaler”?

But we did it; 10 lapperoonio’s and we were two, proud, high-fiving fools.

The drive home was pretty much conversation free. We were both too busy gasping for air!