Nostalgic Enabler

It may be the weather. It might be that this is the first Saturday in May. It might be due to emotional distress. It might be that the moon is at the right wane. Whatever the reason, every year about this time, Zach and I become a bit nostalgic about the motherland.

Yesterday in the gym, I stood in the locker room and correctly answered Kentucky Derby facts from the Today Show. Another member was quite perplexed as to why I knew how many Mint Juleps were served at Churchill Downs.

I have a church event this Saturday and we are embracing derby traditions. My Kentucky cookbook has been on the counter all week while planning the menu. I have laughed with my mom about having a country ham shipped.

Zach and I have plotted that if we went back to Kentucky what touristy things we would see since we did not do them while living there.

The nostalgia came to a climax last night at approximately 10:30pm. A fellow Kentuckian, Rob, came through our door bearing gifts and stories. Amidst the squeals of delight, stashing, and the questions of how, Rob brought into our world Ale 8, Grippo's, and Big Red.

Ale 8 is a drink made, packaged and sold only in Kentucky. The plant is in Zach's hometown of Winchester.

Grippos is a BBQ chip manufactured in Cincinnati. They are by far the best BBQ chip. Period.

Big Red is a category in of itself. It is commonly known as the sidekick to White Castle burgers.

With a Big Red in Zach and Rob's stomach, stories of the motherland told, and general praises that we made it out alive, by 1am we were content.

Darn Farewells

This week we have had to say good bye to one of our dearest friends, Robbie. I want to kick, scream and throw rotten asparagus and brussel sprouts at him........but, I know it is a great opportunity for him. He will experience new adventures. New friends. New church. Blah. Blah. Blah. It still sucks.

Though, through the immediate emotion of suckiness, we have celebrated the essence of him to us/us to him--root beer floats and sushi.

On Tuesday night, one of our life groupers eloquently stated, "Robbie, I have had more root beer floats in the last year than in my entire life." We laughed and reminisced that due to Robbie's failure to show up with essential items on a food night, he was demoted to the non essential item of dessert. He brought root beer floats and life has never been the same since.

Then we could not allow our time to end without another evening of chopsticks, weird rolls, and debating who had eaten the weirdest thing.

So, Robbie this is your darn farewell on this blog. I'm gonna miss you.

Testing

Today, Kassidy tested her boundaries by groping the Star Wars comic collection.

She is one brave girl.

The Masters

Today we celebrated alongside Alisha and Nancy on the completion of their Masters in Counseling.

It was a fabulous day and we are so proud of them!

Day in the Life of an Assistant Dog Walker

On the west side bank of the Willamette River lies acres of greenery, trees, and monuments known as Waterfront Park. It is a happening place year round, but specifically in the spring/summer season it is bustling with pedestrians, bikers, tourists, and locals catching rays of sun.

Today, after a phone call and a few text messages I was on my way to a Waterfront Park adventure alongside Amy and Maggie.

We walked the entire length, chatted, and laughed at Maggie.

We took pictures of the blooming world.

Actually, I think I took pictures and Amy tussled with Maggie. It is good to be the assistant dog walker.

At the end of our afternoon, we were smiling and content with life. It was good.

Tumultuous

It has been a helluva week at the Banker household. Battles have ensued on every front--money, health, future, and family. Emotions have been tautly stretched. But in my angst, I found these pictures.

They made me laugh and wish, that on some levels, life was figured out by who had the bigger canons.

Or the cooler peg leg.

Festival Feng Shui

Author Mark Twain once wrote, "It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!" These past five days my heart has ached to molt from sweaters, jeans and scarves. I have wanted to fling my boots far and run barefoot in a field of alfalfa. I have wanted to lay on a hay bale and watch the puffy clouds creep across the sky.

But, since I am constrained to city life I have kept the flinging to myself and have submerged into outdoor adventures.

With my partner in crime home, Saturday morning we headed to the Japanese Garden. Neither of us had been and thanks to a free pass from our library, we straightened and realigned our Zen.

Phenomenal garden and I would like to return in the summer.

Afterwards, we headed to a plant swap which ended up being a mural dedication for the Roseway Association. This little strip on 72nd Avenue boasted plants, a barber shop quartet, and a fabulous mural to peruse.

Since Gerty resides in the neighborhood, I knew a few people. One told us about Fairley's Pharmacy, a soda fountain shop. Once the speeches got to be a bit windy, we headed over and grabbed a milkshake.

It was great to sit in nostalgia for a bit.

Today, we headed south to the land of tulips. Since we have been a bit burned from the flower title festivals, we decided to enjoy one that we knew was legit. This was my second year to frolic among the tulips, but Zach's first. He was quite pleased to see actual flowers that pertained to the so named festival.

Though, initially he was a bit skeptical when got in the vicinity of the tulip fields and saw only daffodils.

Some memories are just too hard to forget.

The Cowboy Returns

Zach spent the week waving the Multnomah banner...

...wrangling tumbleweeds...

...admiring amazing landscape...

...and snapping shots of shady hotels...

...in Reno.

Productive with a Capital P

The sun was such an inspiration this morning that after sculpting my guns at the noon gym class, I drove straight to Walmart. Waltzing down the aisles, I picked up a cilantro, basil, two geraniums, daylilies and a primrose. The Banker abode needed color and my mission was to enjoy the sun while achieving that goal.

However, one project leads to another with me.

Thought process for back area:
In order to plant, I had to wash the pots. While I am already in the dirt, may as well weed the back forty. But I can't have clean pots without a clean table, chairs and concrete patio. Oh, I think the table will look good in this corner with the grill on the other side. Why does the neighbor not tame his wild jungle?


Once the back was to my satisfaction, I began on the front part of the house.

Front section thought process:
Wash the pot. Plant the geraniums. Hmm...the rocking chair is not looking so chipper. I think my ancestors would roll in their graves. Douse with Old English. Ouch, oil got on the concrete--must wash front patio. Oy! While being sudsy, wash the reclining lawn chairs.

Once that set of chores was complete, I chatted a while with our neighbor Juan, watched his son, Joshua, water our concrete, and directed Joshua to target practice my geraniums so that I did to water them.

Soon after, BD showed up to return the vacuum. He moved to a new apartment yesterday, and was lamenting that they needed a few items for their apartment. Thirty minutes later, he walked out the door with a pitcher, stock pot, teapot, utensils, cups, and a pink knife sharpner.

Since those items left a void, I had to rearrange and clean the kitchen.

The momentum was in my favor, so after peddling a bit on Craigslist and selling this bookcase...

...the TV room and adjoining closet got cleaned and rearranged.

One of the closet totes held hundreds of pictures. Consumed by the organizing bug, I struck with a vengeance. However, one must prepare themselves for the finds in a photo box.

Though it is not the infamous mullet picture, this photo made me smile.

It is weird to think that I am married to this boy. At this time, we weren't even a flicker of a thought in each other's minds. Years later, we are madly in love. I have missed my partner in crime this week. But then I found this...

Quite blurry, but rest assured that is peanut butter and Cheerios on my face. How did we end up married?!

This is my dear sister.

She is singing into the hair dryer dressed in a nightgown. I have no idea why that nightgown had the number 50 on it. She still has a big mouth.

Another picture of my dearest sister after I whooped her in jello wrestling.

I definitely see the "uncle" in her face.

Beside a Ugandan visitor, I stood in our farmhouse kitchen. This one made me miss the farm.

Then, I found this picture.

Krisi was my first friend in Kentucky. She lived down the road a bit, next to the cemetary and church. Thanks to this girl, I went to church. We had many adventures together and though over the years our lives have taken us to and fro, I love her dearly. She became a mom two weeks ago.

My kitchen floor still needs to be mopped, the bathrubs scrubbed and the sheets put back on the bed. However, Zach does not get back till late tomorrow night, so I am going to end my day dwelling on the jewels I found in the closet.

Sage Advice

Hundreds of times I have heard the sage advice, "Don't judge a book by its cover." Today, I experienced the reason behind such advice.

POTENTIAL BAKER

My dear friend, Anya, is renowned for her lack of culinary skills. We tease her lovingly, while coaching and encouraging at the same time. Today, I saw the potential baker reveal itself through a Flourless Chocolate Torte.

Congrats, my dear, you now have a signature dish.

FRUMPY IS COOL

The judges mocked her and the crowd scoffed, but within ten seconds of her song she wooed Britain and subsequently the world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

I got goosebumps and gave her a standing ovation myself.

Splat Sort of Day

It was a good day. It has been a good week. But tonight when I went to clean the kitchen I found this teabag in the sink...

...and it made me think that I have had a splat sort of week. Everything is still intact, but there have been some things that have made me feel as though I have hit the bottom of a sink and left a mark.

One Year

Dear Kaden,

Today, we celebrated you.


A year ago, your arrival was cause for great excitement. Your parents are greatly loved, so as a result there were a lot of people to celebrate your birth.

Through the months you have melted hearts with your smile. You have garnered hugs with your infamous cuddling. You have unnerved some with your mellow disposition. You have shown your bravery by stalking a ferocious feline beast. You have made many giggle with your antics.


Though at times you have baffled us with your weird sign language. You have perplexed us with your texture issues. From tales, we have heard you have had your 'moments'.

We have watched you evolve from a sleepy lump to an ape crawling, garble speaking, chapstick throwing kid. Just as you have changed, those around you have as well. Your mom and dad are crazily in love with you. I think your grandmother is going to swoon everytime she sees you. Your cousins are perfecting their teases just for you. Then, there are the adopted aunts and uncles.

From this vantage point, you have stretched your Aunt Amanda and Uncle Zach's skills considerably. Over a year ago, I had never fed a kid or much less babysat one less than six years old. Your Uncle Zach had a bit more practice, yet I have watched how you have masterfully weaved yourself around his heart.

So with this letter, we want to tell you thanks. Thanks for letting us be a part of your life. Thanks for making us smile when we have had rough days. Thanks for reminding us as to why we want to be just an aunt and uncle. Thanks for letting us hang out with your parents.


And most of all, thanks for giving us pictures such as this.

Years from now, we will get the pleasure of teasing you about how you could not handle your first birthday cake and made your mom say, "Maybe, we should have done a practice round."

Love,
Aunt Amanda and Uncle Zach

The Irony of Comedy

He was an eclectic sophomore English teacher. His wit was not to be matched nor could one make their left eyebrow arch higher than his. Mr. Todhunter was an institute to the Breckinridge County school system, and he loved to make jokes about the management. I remember one graduation night, I watched from the band seating area as he was recognized for 20 years of service with a pin. He turned from the principal and rolled his eyes. I giggled behind my saxophone.

He taught from behind his desk, seated. The majority of classes involved the instructions at the beginning, then the remainder of time we worked and he sat. However, sprinkled throughout this regime there were interesting discussions of English matters. One discussion I remember vividly--Greek comedy versus tragedy. I thoroughly enjoyed Greek mythology and writings then, and I still today. But, this particular discussion was how plays or writings were classified. He would state modern titles and the class would vote which category it belonged. It was engaging yet bewildering at times. The culmination of bewilderment occurred when he launched, "The Death of Christ."

Being smack dab in the middle of the Bible belt and in rural Kentucky, it was not uncommon for such a topic to be breached. It is a churchy culture. So when "The Death of Christ" was stated, a fellow student replied, "It is a tragedy of course. Christ died."

With his eyebrow arched, Mr. Todhunter replied, "Then, obviously, you have missed the latter half of the story. Christ had to die to make it right. He prevailed. That, my class, is the essence of a comedy."

I tend to reflect on this memory every Good Friday.

Latin grammarian Diomedes once wrote that tragedies usually move from joy to sadness, comedies the opposite. The overarching story of God is one of victory, but to reach that He had to kill his son. He had to move the story from sadness, sin, and death to forgiveness, rejoicing and exultation.

God wrote the ultimate comedy.

Garden Sanctuary

You who walk,
Maybe with troubled thoughts,
Come, enter here and rest;
And may the sweet serenity of growing things,
And the heavenly peace,
Be mirrored in they soul.

-Doxis M. Palmer

BEWARE: One Flower Scam

Once again, a flower festish festival has struck: Trillium Festival.

Dozens of signs saying not to pick the trilliums.

Only one trillium to be found in the vicinity.

Conclusion: The early festivals bearing a flower name will dissappoint and are a scam to suck festival goers in.