It's A New Day

A Memorable Day

Memorial Day always seems to conjure up images of family gatherings, outdoor barbecue and some sort of water fun to kick off the unofficial start of summer. We managed to fit in all three in a way that was untraditional for us but certainly memorable.

Kayla is down in Biloxi visiting Brad for a few days now that school is out for her and while he's off most of the time she's there, he did have to work today so we headed over to spend the day with her. Here was one of our stops on the day's activities:

Now if we'd just been driving down the highway and saw the gator farm, we'd have never stopped but Wayne was checking area attractions on the Internet and it was the airboat tour that caught his eye. Both of us have always wanted to ride in an airboat and when we asked Kayla if she'd be up for it, we got an enthusiastic yes. She was, however, far less interested in holding the baby alligator, even with a rubber band around his snout.  Believe it or not, that one is about two years old and he was probably about 18" long from his nose to the tip of his tale.

There were about a dozen of us in the airboat which headed out into the swamp. We've had several days of record-setting heat so it felt good to be skimming along the top of the water with the temperatures in the mid-90's again today. Narrow waterways like the one above opened up into small lake-like areas and then we'd take another water-path through the trees to the next open space, all the while looking for gators.

They weren't hard to find. This one, in fact, came crawling out of the reeds when called. She answers to the name "Stumpy"...I didn't ask if that referred to her physique or to the fact that she chomped off some poor unsuspecting tourist's arm when it was dangled too close to the water. Actually, she came looking for her favorite treat...marshmallows. It seems the airboat drivers were in the habit of tossing them to the gators up until a few weeks ago when the state game people told them to stop. Now the gators are going through sugar withdrawal.

Those ripples in the water are another gator swimming toward the boat. When the driver imitated the sound of a baby gator and splashed his hand in the water, the gator made a bee-line for the boat thinking there was a baby in distress. He wasn't coming to rescue it; he was looking for dinner.

Only about 1% of the gators born in the wild survive with the other 99% being part of the food chain for other animals, including larger gators. So while it would be easy to criticize this outfitter for feeding marshmallows to wild alligators, they're also collecting eggs from the nests then hatching and caring for the young gators until they're big enough to return to the swamp. There were a dozen or so 4'-5' gators in a concrete enclosure the airboat driver said would be released in another few weeks. Even they would be just snack size for the really big fella we saw. Well, technically we only saw part of him as there was a lot still submerged but they estimated he weighed close to 1,000 pounds. The area lost so many gators during Katrina, they're working hard to restore the alligator population.

It wasn't all narrow waterways...we had a few wide-open spaces where the guide got the boat moving at a good clip. We skimmed over grass just like you see on CSI: Miami and, of course, he managed to splash some water up on us too. I think Miss Kayla would have made a much more careful driver.

What better way to end the day than with a cook-out...we just let someone else do the work. In this case, it was the folks at The Shed. The decor is intentionally backwoods...where else would you find a fire pit made from an old cast iron bathtub...but the barbecue is pretty darn good.

And just like that the day was done. Close the book on Memorial Day 2012...it was fun and different and memorable. Best of all, it was spent with family, and that's how it should be.

A Day of Remembrance

I grew up in the middle of the Vietnam War. While we sat in our high school government class and debated the pros and cons of whether our country should be fighting a battle to stop Communism on foreign soil, the sad reality was that the male portion of the students seated there were likely to be drafted, and thus in the middle of that war, when their education came to an end. Many from my class served. Some sustained injuries; one gave his life.

I suppose that's why I found the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., so moving when I first saw it...and each subsequent time as well. All those names. Brothers, sons, fathers, friends. The black marble seemed to stretch forever but then it must in order to hold more than 58,000 names. With the flag in the foreground and the reflection of the Washington monument framed in clouds in the background, one could almost get lost in the beauty of it. Almost...but there's nothing beautiful about losing so many young lives.

For my generation it was Vietnam but for my parent's it was World War II and Korea. And for my children it was the Gulf War, Iraq and now Afghanistan. Sadly, there seems no shortage of conflicts where the brave men and women who serve our country must risk their lives to protect our freedom. And yet they go. 

Whatever and wherever the conflict, the message to our fallen heroes is still the same: We will honor and remember your sacrifice with gratitude and respect.

Memorial Day 2012

Song and Dance Fan

I'm a sucker for a good musical. Give me a story where people break into a song to make it more interesting and I'm a fan...even better when it's got great choreography. That's why shows like The Voice, Glee and Smash are don't-miss TV in my book. Yes, I know...at first glance The Voice doesn't seem to fit  with the other two. There's not much choreography and it's a singing contest where the other two are scripted shows. But there's a story in there even if it's just what the singers have been through to get there and whether or not they will move on to the next round. And Smash...it's my new favorite show behind Person of Interest. If you haven't watched, summer reruns would be a great time to start...but I digress.

And I suppose that love for a good song and dance is what compelled me to click on a link to a YouTube video when I saw it on a friend's page on Facebook. I don't do that often but show me a video of a good flash mob that involves music and dancing and I'll click every time. Turns out this one wasn't a flash mob per se but you couldn't tell that from the preview. In fact, you couldn't tell much of anything from the preview. It is, however, charming and romantic and sweet...and probably a whole lot of other things too. I can't imagine the time and effort that went into this but the end result left me with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.

So if you're not on Facebook and haven't seen it (although I hear CBS was promoting it as a story on their Evening News), it's worth the time. A real feel-good moment that proves love is alive and well. Enjoy!

 

P.S. Did you catch the fact that the people on the screens of the laptops are friends/family participating via Skype? Too cute. I'm telling Kayla she can only say "yes" to a guy who tops this proposal...in ten years or so, of course.

It's A Pepper-Palooza

Peter Piper better plan a path to Pace because he's going to have a passel of peppers to pick. We're having a pepper-palooza.

We didn't set out with that in mind but it seems to have become that.

First, we had one pepper plant Dr. Dale had given us that was still growing from last year. He starts a number of varieties from seed and always fixes us up with a couple. He couldn't get the Wild Dynamo seeds he'd raised before but it was something close to it. Ours was a real slow starter and we hardly got any peppers from it but it was looking pretty good by the time cold weather rolled around so since it was in a pot anyway, I just moved it to a protected location on the nights the temperatures dipped too low. When spring arrived, I cut it back and put it in the ground. Now it's covered with blooms and little green peppers.

Then we enjoyed our jalapenos so much last year so we bought another plant. It's still a dwarf compared to the Wild Dynamo look-alike but it does have three or four little peppers already setting on. They're only about an inch long at this point but I see poppers in our future.

And, on a lark, we picked up a bell pepper plant when we bought the jalapeno. I'll admit I was attracted by the pretty picture of the red bell pepper stuck in it as I like them much better than the green ones. We'll see if it's a matter of simply leaving them on the plant to ripen produces something as eye-appealing as the graphic that came with it. It should be fun to watch anyway. When I looked this evening, I could just see the beginnings of peppers on two blooms.

Dr. Dale broadened his pepper horizons this year and bestowed upon us a poblano pepper plant as well a cowhorn pepperplant. I'm excited about the first but I have the feeling that last one is going to be hotter than I like. Last year he told me I'd like the lemon peppers from the plant he gave me because they had a slight lemon flavor. Their yellow color was pretty as it grew but I never got the lemon taste; it was TOO HOT! And if the cowhorns are too, well no matter...we'll save them for the Doc. They'll be fun to watch grow. They're just starting to bloom.

Peppers here and peppers there. The flowers in the garden need a little excitement in their midst.

Thanks A Lot, Dad

My dad is an amazing guy. Never mind that he's on the downhill side of 88, he's far too busy to be old. There's his cronies to meet for breakfast most weekday mornings and separate circles of friends to hang out with at two different bowling alleys, not to mention his weekly league obligations where he wrapped up the winter league with an average just shy of 200. He takes his recently-widowed sister-in-law out every week or so, "to keep her from getting lonely," he says and he loves to go target practicing out in the desert outside El Paso. Oh, he has his recliner time too, cheering his hapless Cubs in what is sure to be another heart-breaker of a season but he loves them nevertheless. In short, he's active and engaged in life and I couldn't be happier for him. I often say I hope I inherited those genes.

My doctor, however, has reminded me of some other genes I clearly have inherited from him...those that keep my cholesterol readings in a range higher than I, and my doctor, would like. As the guy in the white coat observed, my diet and exercise efforts are all well and good but the bottom line is that my numbers are barely making the grade. Medication is inevitable, he says; might as well start it sooner rather than later.

So I'll join my older brother who's been chugging down the cholesterol-lowering pills for several years now and take some myself. It could be worse; my daily routine up to this point has only involved vitamins, calcium supplements and a baby aspirin so a tiny pill here and there isn't any big deal. Some people need those weekly cases to help keep track of all the medicine they have to take.

I called Dad this evening to "thank" him for the "gift" he bestowed upon me. He chuckled and then rattled off a few more maladies from which he suffers. Did I want them too, he asked. No thanks, Dad; this one's enough. And I'm holding him to those long-and-active-life genes being mine too. Gotta be some trade-off, don't you think?

Climbing Out Of The Rut

We've been in a food rut lately. You know, where it seems like it's the same thing for dinner all the time. Well, not literally all the time...just every other week or so. In cold weather it's easy to add a little variety by throwing a pot of soup into the mix and there are so many kinds we like that the menu feels different from week to week. And we're just about to get to prime fresh vegetable time and that will help too. Maybe it's boredom with the offerings right now but we needed a change.

So we brainstormed a little on the way to the store Saturday, coming up with a few things we like but hadn't fixed in a while and I must say, dinner has been much better as a result. There was pork tenderloin on Saturday with an Asian BBQ sauce. Yum. And last night we did Orange Beef in the wok. It's been months since we made that...maybe so long that we forgot how many chile peppers to put in it. It was HOT but it sure was good.

Tonight's choice was Spinach Lasagna. We try to do one vegetarian meal a week and it just turned out to be a Meatless Monday. True story: As I was putting it together, I was thinking about how much I was going to like all that spinach and ricotta cheese but how our oldest son would hate it. Then he called about the time it was ready to come out of the oven and declared those ingredients gross. It wasn't, however; it was quite tasty. Note to self: Use a deeper pan next time.

And speaking of that pan, I know you're coveting the avocado/orange/harvest gold color scheme of my 70's era dish. I think all the rest of the set went to that same spinach and ricotta-hating son but I held onto this piece because it's such a good size...probably 7.5x12. It's also proof that if you hold onto things long enough, they'll be popular again as these retro colors are making a comeback. But not in my house, except for this dish.

On tap for tomorrow...creamed peas and new potatoes. My mouth is watering at the thought of them. I'm liking being out of the rut.

A New Meaning To "Dropped Calls"

We have plenty of friends and family members for whom life revolves around their cellphone. They've heard the phone company's "reach out and touch" message loud and clear as it seems they're making calls, checking for texts and updating their social media status with great regularity. I know it isn't the case but it almost seems like the cellphone is an extension of their hand.

That would not be Wayne. In fact, I often tell people that if they really want to talk to him, don't bother to call his cellphone; it's rarely on.

So when the home phone rang this morning and I heard him respond with a Hi, bud, I figured it was one of his caching cronies looking for a little help. His conversation, however, was short...a few oh, yeah's and a not too much. Not at all like most caching conversations, in part because if he knows them well enough for them to call him, he usually has to give them a little harassment before he offers the help they're seeking. That's OK; they do the same thing to him.

When he finished, he turned to me with a sheepish look on his face. It wasn't a caching call at all but one from J.J., the manager up at the golf course, who was calling to let Wayne know they had his cellphone. That was a surprise as Wayne didn't know it was missing. Even worse, he hadn't been at the golf course since Friday so the cellphone had been AWOL for two days. Who knows how long it might have been before he went to look for it. He was forced to admit to J.J. that he doesn't use it very often.

There's another funny twist to the story. Wayne's purpose at being at the golf course on Friday was baseball, not golf. He and several others were huddled around a laptop computer in J.J.'s office watching the feed from the State high school baseball championships. Pace was in the finals and the guys, who've attended most of the local games, were cheering them on via long distance. Unfortunately, Pace came up one run short of the title but still had an amazing season.

Wayne's phone had slipped out of his pocket as he watched the game and ended up on the floor. It's a little dark-colored flip-phone...nothing fancy. But J.J. is color blind. I mean, seriously color-blind. And apparently the phone and the carpet were hues he has trouble distinguishing so even though the phone is right there in plain sight, he couldn't see it. Fast forward to today...when the battery got low, someone started looking for the source of the strange beeping noise and found the phone.

It kinda gives a new meaning to the term "dropped calls," doesn't it.

Tales From The Tree

I'm still trying to squeeze in some time for family history research in between all the other things I need to be doing. Well...lately, it would be more like I'm trying to squeeze some of the other things I need to be doing in between the family history research but that's because I've hit a bonanza of information.

When you find one ancestor who came to New England in the 1630s, the chances are very good you're going to find a whole lot more because they had to marry into another family. I think I'm on the fourth or fifth. And because our country was so new at that time, these ancestors are the founding fathers of several small towns in Massachusetts. That means somewhere along the line someone wrote a book detailing the history of that community, giving me a picture of their life names and dates just can't provide...and you know how I love that.

Among the many stories I've uncovered these last few days is the one involving the family of John Rogers, my eighth great grandfather, who along with his father helped found Billerica, Massachusetts. [For those for whom a scorecard is meaningful, the relationship goes like this: Zora Steele > Adda Riggs (m. William Newton Steele) > Sara Agnes Hubbard (m. Marion Riggs) > Willard Hubbard (m. Nancy Ann Burns) > Sara Agnes Marshall (m. Daniel Hubbard) > Abel Marshall (m. Lydia Dryden) > William Marshall (m. Elizabeth Richardson) > Eunice Rogers (m. John Marshall Jr.) > John Rogers (m. Mary Shed)]

Billerica had a somewhat checkered relationship with the Indians in the late 1600s, being somewhat on the edge of the Massachusetts frontier. They had long periods when each looked out for the other interrupted by some attacks leading to burned homes/wigwams and murders on both sides. Two entire families were killed in August 1692, including Zachary Shed, his wife and five children. He was the brother to Mary Shed, wife of John Rogers. Mary had died in 1688 and John remarried, needing a mother for his five children still at home. One of those children was Eunice, my seventh great grandmother.

There's something in the phrasing and descriptive word choices I love for the story of August 5, 1695, as told in The History of Billerica, even if the event itself is tragic so I'm just going to quote part of it:

The Indians came suddenly upon them in the day time. They entered the house of John Rogers, son of one of the early settlers, about noon, and while from the fatigues of the day he was enjoying repose upon his bed, they discharged one of their arrows, which entered his neck and pierced the jugular vein. Awakened with this sudden and unexpected attack, he started up, seized the arrow, which he forcibly withdrew, and expired with the instrument of death in his hand. A woman being in the chamber threw herself out of the window and, though severely wounded, effected her escape by concealing herself among some flags. A young woman was scalped and left for dead, but survived the painful operation and lived for many years afterwards. A son and a daughter of Mr. Rogers were taken prisoners.

I'm still amazed to have this much detail about an ancestor who died more than 300 years ago. While I might have expected a "killed by Indians" footnote, I never expected a play-by-play of the circumstances surrounding that death. The book goes on to describe the effort to catch the Indians which failed, in part, because the Indians tied the mouths of their dogs "with wampum" so they couldn't bark and give away the direction they'd taken. In all, fifteen people were killed or kidnapped in the attack, including John's brother Thomas and his oldest son. I do, however, wonder if Eunice was the woman in the chamber who threw herself out the window...or maybe the young woman who was scalped. Perhaps I'll find the answer to that yet.

The volume of information I've uncovered is a little overwhelming in some respects but I'm thrilled with all the new branches now hanging from my tree.

Texting With The Teen

Kayla:     Hey, Grandma, I've been thinking... I think your car is way beneath you and I should take that piece of junk off your hands. : )

Me:        Oh, you are your father's daughter...always an angle. Grandpa says you can have his pickup in another 20 years.

Kayla:    Well, it'll probably be twenty years before I can afford my own car so I may take him up on that!

Observations

Just a few thoughts from the last several days:

1. One should not choose the day before a yoga class to challenge oneself with a new elevation on the treadmill, producing a strenuous workout clearly felt in the legs and buttocks. Murphy's Law says the yoga instructor will chose the class immediately following said workout to focus on those same legs and buttocks. It took three days to be able to move without my gluteus maximus screaming in protest.

2. One thing that helped work out some of that soreness was my daily walk. More of those walks are taking place after dinner when it's cooler. There's a whole different feel to the neighborhood in the early evening and I'm enjoying that...and seeing the sky change colors as night begins to settle in.

3. When I headed out to walk this evening, there was a bunny in my neighbor's yard to the west and another one in the yard on the other side of our house. Hmmm, I wonder how long it will be before we see little bunnies. And on my walk last night, I saw one of the foxes. Good thing the foxes "live" on the other side of the neighborhood or those cute little bunnies might be Mrs. Fox's future dinner.

4. And while we're talking animals, we caught sight of some deer in the backyard as we returned home the other night. They froze momentarily in the headlights then meandered on off. We haven't seen them in a while so it's nice to know they haven't gone too far a way.

5. Heavy rains and strong winds don't make nice playmates for six-foot-tall flowers. I woke up to find many of the Cosmos plants more horizontal and vertical and had to scramble around for some stakes to restore them to their upright position.

6. And that lecture I gave those Cosmos some weeks back where I threatened to yank them from the ground if they didn't bloom...I think the hydrangea must have overheard it as it's covered with blooms like this:

Well, actually some of them are pinker than this pretty flower. This is a plant that blooms about once every five or six years and then usually with only one or two flowers. It has a lot this time. I'm wondering if the absence of sprayed chemicals (since we're doing the fertilizer/pest control in the lawn ourselves now) has something to do with it. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying them.

7. The Voice was perfect entertainment for ironing. Who knows when the weekly ironing will get done now that it's over.

Spike It Up

As we were sitting at the Crawfish Festival a few days back, I was watching one couple in particular as they made their way around the dance floor. Well, really I was watching the guy. He was about our age and a good enough dancer but that wasn't what caught my eye...it was his hair. It was mostly gray and spiked up on top as it came out of the navy blue visor he had on. My thought process was that it was a rather hip hair-do for an old guy a mature fellow but we have a friend who wears his hair in that style so I didn't dwell on it. Actually, I think this friend spikes his up in an effort to conceal that there's less hair than there used to be but that's neither here nor there.

A few songs later I saw another guy dance by with similarly spiked hair on top. Hmmm, I thought, perhaps that's the "in" style in Cajun country. Then as he swung his partner around, I noticed a long braid trailing out of the back of his visor. I was puzzled. What kind of haircut did he have that gave him short spiked hair on top, a long braid and was closely cropped at the neck?

I was still trying to visualize what he must look like with his hat off and/or his braid unbraided when a guy in the aisle tossed something fuzzy at his buddy a few chairs over from us. That's one of those hair hats, Wayne said. They're selling them at one of the booths over there. Some of them even have a braid. And just like that, the picture was perfectly clear.

As the guy nearby pulled his newly-acquired hat onto his bald head, everyone in the area broke into a grin. Oh, you HAVE to have one of those, I told Wayne. They are just too much fun. He resisted...but only for a minute. Next thing I knew he was off to the vendors area and soon returned with his own hair hat.

It looks good on him, don't you think? While the "hair" looks pretty white in this photo because it was in the sunshine, it's actually a shade of gray pretty close to Wayne's natural hair color. When you get close, you can tell it looks a lot like a stuffed animal but with a quick glance, it passes for hair. I told him if he likes the look, I have some styling gel and we can duplicate this look with his real locks. So far he hasn't taken me up on that offer but I'm still holding out hope.

Just seeing him with this hair hat on makes me laugh...and it makes him laugh too. He's planning to wear it to play golf with the Cokettes. They all kid and cut up so I'm sure they will get a kick out of the hat. And I can think of a few of those guys I'd love to see trying it on, something I feel sure will happen.

So why have I waited this long to write about the hair hat? Because Wayne didn't buy just one; he bought a second one to send to his buddy, Dr. Dale who's off in Ohio already. And we wanted to wait until it arrived so the hat would be a surprise. The package arrived today and Dale sent this photo:

You should know that Dr. Dale is tress-challenged so to see him with this shock of black and gray hair on top is definitely amusing. We knew it would be a great gift...after all, hair is something he has always wanted! There's a reason he and Wayne are such good friends...Dale can't wait to wear it out with his Ohio friends and get a laugh out of them.

It doesn't take much to entertain the bunch of us.

Such Clever People

Mother's Day greetings are popping up everywhere right now. One of my favorites is by a local grocery store with just a nice love-your-momma message that you can't recognize as a commercial until the name of the store shows up on the television screen at the very end. Far more subtle (and therefore more appealing too, in my opinion) than the inserts in the paper urging readers not to forget Mom on Mother's Day when what they really mean is come in and buy kitchen appliances or jewelry.

So it really shouldn't have come as a surprise when I went to Google something late this evening and the newest Google Doodle is honoring Moms around the world. It's cute. If you haven't seen it, you'll find it here.

Those Google people are clever, aren't they. They're amazing to begin with, what with putting the answer to my every question right at my fingertips in a fraction of a second. I still haven't figured out how they do that but I'm happy to take advantage of it. And it seems I do, often multiple times a day. The clever illustrations add a bit of fun and I regularly scroll over them to find out what occasion is being celebrated in the design. And then sometimes...like Mother's Day...it's pretty obvious.

Ever wonder how those doodles came about? You can find the story of them here. Scroll down to the bottom and you'll find a link to all their past doodles. If nothing more, they're interesting because some are run in other parts of the world and not the USA. And if you're a fan of the animated doodles, Technorati rated the eleven best for 2011 in this article with links to each one. Go ahead...play with them. You know you want to.

I'm not nearly as clever as the Google people but I do want to offer up Mother's Day greetings to all the Moms out there. Enjoy your day!

Threats Work

Remember when I had a heart-to-heart talk with the tall and lacy plants in my flower bed in this post? Well, it wasn't quite as friendly as a heart-to-heart talk; it was more a do-it-or-else warning. As in bloom or I'll yank you out of the ground.

And it worked!

They're pretty, too...deep red, almost burgundy with a bright yellow center. The plants themselves are thin and tall so the flowers bob around in the breezes we've been having. There are blooms or buds on four or five of the plants, including the really tall one which must exceed six feet now. I'll never see the flowers at the top of that one...except from the underside! I'd rather it wasn't quite so tall but it's so lacy that you can see right through it.

Now that we have blooms, I can figure out what they are...cosmos. And since they survived last winter, I guess that means they'll be in my garden for a while. That's OK; now that my threats have worked, they can stay.

More Louisiana

Just a few more memories of our time in Louisiana to document...because I'll forget them if I don't. : )

Since the Festival didn't open until late afternoon, we spent part of Friday enjoying the sights and tastes of Avery Island. For such a small island, it has a big personality. For instance, it's home to the Tabasco Company and its acres of pepper plants...but more about that later. There's also a salt mine because the island sits at the top of a huge salt dome estimated to be higher than Mt. Everest. And then there's the Jungle Garden which really isn't much jungle at all but stately oaks draped with Spanish moss.

There are plenty of bayous and lagoons too which are home to some of these fellows:

They kept an eye on us and we kept an eye on them. We probably saw 8-10 alligators without really trying, the majority of which were all in one lagoon. Most were 5'-6' long and happy to be in the water on a hot afternoon. Thank goodness for good telephoto lenses.

The gardens are full of azaleas, camellias, and other plants found in traditional Southern landscapes so this pagoda and buddha seem a little out of place but they are picturesque. It all sits at the edge of a small lagoon which also had an alligator lurking in the algae-covered water.

There's just something peaceful about all those big old trees though. We set up the chairs we'd brought with us and had lunch under their spreading branches.

One of the most interesting parts of the garden is an area called Bird City. It's another algae-covered lagoon on which they've built platforms for the egrets to nest. Well, it's egrets on the platforms and in the surrounding trees as well but there are other species of birds that nest in the area, including the Roseate Spoonbill. We saw some of them as well but never close enough to get a good photo even with the telephoto lens.

There's a nice observation deck that's elevated so you have a good view of the lagoon and visitors don't seem to bother the birds one bit. It was a noisy...and smelly...place but interesting nonetheless.

There were still chicks in the nest but we were guessing it won't be long before the birds all begin their migration north only to return again for nesting season next year.

The fields of pepper plants are off limits but you can tour the factory which we did...and we learned a lot in the process. Like that this plant produces all the Tabasco sauce that's distributed world-wide. That takes a whole lot of peppers, all of which are grown from seed every year and picked by hand. Then they're ground up, seasoned with salt mined right there on the island and put in used Jack Daniels barrels to age for three years before they become Tabasco sauce.

After the factory tour we headed over to the Tabasco store to look around and try a few of the samples. Hands down the best one was ice cream made with the Raspberry Chipotle Tabasco sauce. It was cold and sweet with a subtle heat...yum!

Despite the fact that it is home to all that industry and has plenty of visitors, the island has its own sense of serenity. And that was just what we needed before heading off to mingle with the masses.

The Test

Q. If Susy falls asleep on the couch three times between 8:30pm and midnight, it is because:
       (a) Susy stayed up too late too many nights in a row.
       (b) Susy got up earlier than usual too many mornings in a row.
       (c) Susy spent more days in the heat and sunshine than usual and it's finally caught up with her.
       (d) All of the above.

A. The reason doesn't matter; the correct answer is that Susy should just go to bed.

Fais Do-do

That's pronounced Fay' dough-dough if, like me, Cajun-speak is truly foreign to you. There's the strict definition: fais means dance and do-do means to make sleep; then there's the Cajun definition: the liveliest of occasions with food, Cajun music and plenty of dancing. That's just what we enjoyed this weekend...and a little lagniappe (pronounced lan-yap) or something extra to boot.

If there's such a thing as professional partiers, the Cajun people fit the description as they certainly know how to have a good time but you couldn't ask for a friendlier and more welcoming group that we encountered this weekend. The event was well-organized and everywhere we went, someone was asking us where we were from or wishing us a good time, all with an accent that by itself made me smile. Believe me, those wishes came true.

From Friday through Sunday we spent many an hour on the festival grounds. We caught throws (i.e., beads and candy) at the Mardi Gras-like parade, strolled through the craft booths, watched the Cajun and Zydeco dance lessons and cheered on the dance contestants. The only area we didn't explore was the midway but we weren't there for the carnival. And, of course, we dined on these creatures of the swamp:

Well, the one's I ate didn't exactly look like that; in my opinion, peeling them is entirely too much work for the meat you get and I'm certainly NOT going to be sucking any heads like the natives do. But the meat itself is good...a little like lobster only not quite as rich. I had some in etoufee (pronounced ay-too-fay, a tomato/vegetable/crawfish stew served over rice), some fried and some mixed with a creamy spinach concoction served in a bread bowl. The spinach dish was my healthy choice to offset the one that was fried. And I strayed off the crawfish path for a little red beans and rice too. Wayne put away some gumbo, fried alligator and Cajun sausage as well as some etoufee. It was all delicious...and full of Cajun spice too.

Crawfish are a big deal in Louisiana. They're abundant in the local swamps and were a favorite food of the Native Americans and early settlers in the area. They're still harvested from the natural wetlands there, mostly from the Atchafalaya Basin and Breaux Bridge is right in the heart of it. If you've ever driven Interstate 10 and remember the really long bridge over the swamp, that's that Atchafalaya. Now, though, there are 111,000 acres of freshwater crawfish farms and the area produces 75 million to 105 million pounds of the little crustaceans annually. That's more than 90% of the domestic supply of what some refer to as "mud bugs." And with spring being the peak of the season, it's a fine excuse for a party...as if Cajuns needed a reason to eat, dance and have a good time.

While the food was terrific, the music was even better. Let me just say I wouldn't have been able to name a single Cajun or Zydeco song before we arrived and it's questionable whether I could even now but I loved every minute of all that we heard. You'd think that after three days it would get old but it didn't.

There were two stages, each with its own dance floor, and they were busy even when the temperature hovered around 90 degrees in the middle of the afternoon. Those bright colors in the foreground are umbrellas the spectators put up for shade because there was precious little otherwise until the sun began to slip behind the trees about 6pm. We'd listen and watch for a while then disappear to find somewhere that did have shade. That's how I now know how to tell when the dancers are doing Cajun or Zydeco dance moves...I watched the dance lessons from a grassy spot under a big old oak. We left our chairs right where they were next to the dance floor (like everyone else did) and they were right there when we came back. No matter where you went on the festival grounds you could still hear the music.

Just like the dances, there's a difference between Cajun music and Zydeco music too. Cajun music has its roots in the French-speaking Catholics who relocated to Louisiana from Acadiana in Canada. It was originally based on the fiddle but the accordion played a bigger and bigger role as it evolved. Zydeco is the music of the Creoles, the French-speaking people of color in Louisiana. It started out as Cajun but after WWII it was influenced more by blues and rock and roll so it has a driving rhythm. The accordion is still there but the most distinctive musical instruction of Zydeco is the corrugated metal rubboard called a frottier.

Even within these two genres are more variations. Country, soul, 50's rock and even heavy metal influences were all heard over the course of the weekend. You've never really heard Chubby Checkers' The Twist until you've heard it by a Zydeco band. And the headliner band Saturday night (ten members or so, including a trumpet, saxaphone and keyboard) went from Mustang Sally to Glenn Miller's In The Mood to some Cajun waltz with lyrics in French. There was far too much variety to be bored and if you didn't like the group playing at one stage, you could hear something different at the other.

The musicians all had a workout, playing two-hour sets without a break and often a new song would start directly from the end of the one they were finishing. The guy on the rubboard, however, danced the whole time in addition to playing so he had to be spent when it was time for a new band to take the stage. And while these bands were unknown to me, they were a huge draw for most of those attending the festival. One band had won a Grammy and had three other Grammy nominations, including one this year. Our vote for the best musician at the festival, however, went to Jason Bergeron. He was the accordion player in the High Performance clip I posted Friday. He was absolutely amazing, especially for such a young guy.

And I think that's where the lagniappe comes in. We expected good music and good food...and maybe even to learn something about the Cajun culture. I'm not sure we expected to come away with an appreciation for the effort of the younger generation to preserve and carry it on. There were a lot of young people involved...young people performing traditional songs and writing new ones, many of which are sung in French. And young people on the dance floor, doing traditional Cajun and Zydeco dances and singing along with those French lyrics. I may not be Cajun but I am an appreciator of history and ancestors and honoring your past so seeing that hit home with me and with Wayne too.

This whole trip came about as a fluke when Wayne and I both happened to watch the King Crawfish documentary independent of one another and came away wanting to attend the festival. If you get the Documentary Channel, you can watch it too. Maybe then you'll want to join us at next year's Crawfish Festival because I have a feeling we'll be going back.

Weekend Get-Away

We've packed our bags and escaped for a few days to enjoy a little of this:

 

and some of this:

 

while we soak up a little Cajun culture at this. Spice food and toe-tapping music...sounds like an awesome get-away.

It's All Relative

It was a small class at yoga this morning...only three of us plus the instructor. Perhaps the rain gave the rest an excuse to sleep in. Whatever the reason, it was nice to have plenty of room and not have to worry around where the person next to you was when you started swinging your arms and legs.

The down side, however (and there always is one, isn't there?), was that the other two students are younger and have been doing yoga much longer than I have. Translate that as they are stronger and more flexible. I know it's not a competition but I was feeling a little inadequate. While I struggled to maintain my balance, they seemed to move effortlessly from Warrior III to what the instructor called a kite pose (swing one arm down and the other up, rotating the chest out and still remaining on the one leg) and finally to a Standing Split and back to Warrior III. No one in our class looks as good as the professional in the last link, believe me. Where was the gal with whom I usually exchange eye rolls at moves like this because she has a harder time with them than I do? But I kept on plugging away, challenging myself even if it wasn't at the same level as my classmates.

Afterwards, I headed for the treadmill, figuring I might as well rack up my miles with one trip to the gym rather than come back later if it was going to continue to rain. Mornings in the gym have an entirely different vibe than late afternoons; lots more seniors than the young college and military guys I see when I go at 3pm or 4pm. It doesn't matter either way...I plug in my iPod and tune them all out.

I was about 1.75 miles in when a guy about my age climbed on the treadmill next to me. We exchanged a smile and a nod but both of us stuck to our own routine. His pace was slower and he only stayed on the machine for maybe 15-20 minutes then he was gone.

When I came off the machine, he was in the back of the room again, this time on a stationary bike. How far did you go? he inquired, and I told him four miles. And you raise the elevation too? he asked. Just to 2, I replied, and in increments. He shook his head as if amazed by this information. I'm impressed, he said.

I couldn't help but think back to my feelings of inadequacy in the class earlier. Who knew I was going to be looked at with envy just a short time later. It was a good reminder that we all have our levels of fitness we're striving to achieve. The important thing is that we're out there trying.

But I Don't Have To Like It

When we designed this house, we purposely filled the back side with lots of windows. There are bay windows in the breakfast room, a triple window in the family room and three sets of sliding glass doors...two with three doors and one with four. I wanted it to feel like we were part of the outdoors and I think we succeeded.

Starting now, however, some of those views look like this:

The temperature topped 90 degrees yesterday so I was keenly aware of how frequently the air conditioner cycled on an off. And when that happens, it's time to sacrifice some of those prized outdoor views for a lower energy bill.

The window coverings on the east side of the house are closed now and they won't reopen until cool weather returns in the fall. That's no great loss; those windows all face the house that's in foreclosure. At least the bank is sending someone by to mow it regularly so the view's improving but it's not something I'll miss seeing.

The west side is a compromise. I close them all at lunch time and reopen them when the sun sets so I can see out when I get up in the morning. We'll call it a mental health thing...I need my daylight. And that's exactly why the drapes are never drawn over the two sliding glass doors in the living area. At least there's a large overhang on the back porch so they're protected from direct sunlight.

It hardly seems fair when you think about it, does it. When the yard is drab and the skies are more likely dull and gray, I'm free to see outside all day every day. And now that things are green and blooming and the skies are a brilliant blue, I'm forced to close it all off. But blocking the sun's rays makes a big difference in the temperature inside the house and while my aesthetic side would rather have the view, my practical side would prefer to have the money in my pocket. So the blinds are closed...but I don't have to like it.