Visiting Lake Potato

Every year I try to venture to my brother's house for Thanksgiving, for the best meal ever. My brother, Noel, and his wife, Janet, make this best ham (slow cooked with brown sugar); it is absolutely to die for! My brother and I like to sit at the table and reminisce about our mom who passed away 10 years ago. Somehow our conversations always wander back to her mashed potatoes. (Keep in mind that this story predates microwaves by many years.) Every Sunday she would make a HUGE vat of mashed potatoes, that she would serve as leftovers for days and days into the following week. As the days of leftover mashed potatoes wore on, the runnier they became. A few times on Sunday, as an attempt to not have leftovers, Noel and I ate serving after serving of mashed potatoes. Of course this failed, because the more we ate, the next Sunday she would just make a larger vat. Ohh, this was misery at it's worst! Through our misery, we both made a keen observation concerning the mashed potatoes; the milked down leftovers took over everything on our plate. Peas were pushed off as the potatoes swarmed angrily across the plate. The lone slab of meat, picture meat loaf if you will, was left floating like an island in a lake of a milky white substance. From that day on, we named the leftovers Lake Potato, and all future discussions of Lake Potato have since brought back memories of disgust and hilarity. Viva Lake Potato!

Sebastian the Rockin' Crab?

While driving to work today, the radio station blared a song from my much younger years sung by Skid Row. Every time I hear the tunes by Skid Row, I think of the lead singer's name, Sebastian, and my ex's insistence that we name our youngest son after this lead singer. I absolutely refused to name my son after a cartoon character from the Little Mermaid, much less the lead singer of Skid Row! Could you imagine the ridicule he would have had to deal with in school? I pictured him running to his room in tears, screaming, "I hate my name, and I hate you for giving me this stupid name!" In an effort to avoid this vision from the future, I quickly suggested Brett as an alternative when delivery day came, as "Amy" turned out to be another disastrous choice I felt we should avoid (was told twice our baby was a girl.) Of course now Brett likes to think he is named after Brett Favre, and I gently inform/re inform him that his name came as a spur of the moment alternative to Sebastian. His reply the first time I informed him, "Sebastian? That's kind of cool." I doubt he would be saying that if it truly were his name. Though his name was a bit spur of the moment, I also did name him after one of the all-around best baseball players, George Brett. My Brett seemed not too pleased when he learned that too.

It's Her Party!

My granddaughter is 1yr old! Watching her eat, smash, and trash her cake was hilarious. It made me think of my 19yr old's first birthday, where he climbed onto the table, sat on his cake, and started eating it. Babies are too cute and funny when we introduce them to sugar!

UVA makes the Colbert Report

I was pleasantly surprised the other night, when Stephen Colbert's guest mentioned the most beautiful architecture as the Lincoln Memorial and UVA. A picture of the Rotunda was shown, and of course mention of Declaration Boy, Thomas Jefferson, being the Renaissance Man of his time.

Having lived near Charlottesville, and UVA, for some time now, I never actually took the time to walk on the lawn until a few summer's ago. For those who are not familiar with UVA, the lawn is where the Academic Village is: the Rotunda, the Pavilions- the lawn rooms--including the Poe room (UVA's most famous drop out), and the Gardens. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, and there is this tranquility there that is just magical. I think of others who have walked the same brick path or who may have stood where I was then: Poe, Walter Reed, Bobby and Teddy Kennedy, Woodrow Wilson, Richard Byrd, Georgia O'Keeffe...I could go on and on... A picture is worth many words, and the one above speaks loudly of the magic on the lawn. It is breath taking.

Patrons Who Stare at Idiots

The husband and I decided to take in a movie this evening and try out the revamped Visulite, in the historic district of Staunton. The Visulite turned out to be better than the theaters at the Staunton Mall; The seats are comfortable (they rock), the aisles are wider providing plenty of leg room, the movie screen is large, and the sound system is above average.

The husband and I decided to see "Men Who Stare at Goats", and my only problem with the experience at the Visulite was the overly giddy twenty-something year old girl who sat two rows behind me, to my right. The movie was bizarre,and it had some true comedic moments where I laughed out loud, but for the life of me, I did not understand why this girl chose to laugh when certain words were said. Was her laughter because of some odd and new type of 'Rocky Horror' experience that neither I, nor any other patron, were akin to? I am puzzled by this. Let me give you an example: Whenever George Clooney or Ewan McGregor would say "Jedi" or "the Force," this girl would laugh LOUDLY, and it was not a quick laugh. It was a solo long LOUD laugh. It became most annoying after her fourth inappropriate outburst, and it was at this time that I got my husband's attention, ushered him closer, and gingerly whispered in his ear, "She must be high." He let out a quick giggle, because he sometimes forgets that I can be wicked. Every time she did her solo outburst, I sat there thinking that it would be great to learn George's awesome talent of being able to stare at some live creature and make it's heart stop. I could use that talent on this inappropriate girl, and I believe there were others who may have thought this same thing tonight. I dared not look at her as I left the theater, fearing that I may blurt out something wickedly witty, or that I may have miraculously picked up George's talent and ended her idiotic ways. In a way, I failed humanity but not sparing future legions of movie goers from her idiotic torture. I am sorry citizens of Staunton.