Acadia National Park

We spent a few hours Tuesday exploring Acadia National Park on Mount Desert Island just off the coast of Maine. Bar Harbor is the most well-known town on the island.

After entering the park, our first stop was Cadillac Mountain with an elevation of 1500 feet; it's by no means a tall mountain, but the views were breath taking. It was a bit hazy that day. And the warmest at 90 degrees. The locals were melting; sadly, I felt right at home.
Looking to Bar Harbor.
A schooner in the harbor.
Letha gets ready to make a photo.
Eagle Lake


A sailboat in the distance.The top of Cadillac Mountain.
More of the rugged landscape.




Jonas poses for Uncle Dave.Miranda poses.


A close up.


Mike, Letha, and Jonas pose.

Maine Light Houses

We've just returned from our vacation in Maine. It'll take me several days to get the blog updated, but I promise to work on it. Below are three of Maine's many light houses that we saw while visiting.


We saw this light house Wednesday afternoon while on our whale watching cruise on the schooner Sylvina W. Beal, in the Passamaquoddy Bay off of the Eastport coast. Come to think of it, this might be a Canadian light house. Yep. It is Canadian. It is the East Quoddy Head Light on Campobello Island, New Brunswick. The cross is the cross of St. George; it was built in 1829.

Friday, on our way to the airport, we had a quick trip over to the Portland Head Light. Construction on the lighthouse began in 1787; it was completed and first lit in 1791.

Tuesday, while touring Acadia National Park, we traveled to the south side of Mt. Desert Island to the Bass Harbor Head Light. Though it was only 5pm, the fog was already rolling in that afternoon. The light house was completed in 1858.

The Other Boleyn Girl

I just finished The Other Boleyn Girl. I couldn't put the book down. Given, I knew how it all turned out, I was fascinated by the story recreated by Philippa Gregory. (Of course, sweet Dave seemed puzzled when I said I was reading a novel about Anne Boleyn.)
First, it was interesting to have a glimpse into what life was like in the 1520s-1530s in England. Given today's life style it is hard to fully grasp the life of a courtier, but Gregory paints a vivid picture. I can't imagine dressing as the ladies did, sitting around sewing, waiting to innocently flirt with men, and spend hours dancing each evening, just to wake up and do the same thing the following day.
I was shocked at the treatment of women. I knew women were viewed as possessions, but I had no idea that women were treated as such pawns in a game to win power. I can't believe how value-less-ly Anne, her sister Mary, and other women were treated by their fathers, uncles, and even mothers. I am thankful that we've come so far in society that I was allowed to marry for love, that I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that my parents have my best interest at heart.

On another note, I was entranced by the fashions of the time. Anne Boleyn wore a French hood. Not really a hood, more of a big head band, as shown in the painting below.

Jane Seymour and Katherine of Aragon favored the gable hood.

Books, Books, Books

With the slower pace of summer, I'm actually able to do what I love--read. So far, I've devoured three books: Fanny Flagg's Can't Wait to Get to Heaven, Elisabeth Robinson's The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters, and Troost's The Sex Lives of Cannibals.

Can't Wait to Get to Heaven guarantee's laughs, and at the end of the school year that's exactly what I needed. Though, I've never read Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, I have read Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man by Flagg. There's a sense of "going home" when I read Flagg's stories. The idea of the South and the acceptance of flaws. Or maybe the going home feeling ties in with the close-knit families, who love and accept each other flaws and all.
Early in the novel, Flagg describes the nervous niece Norma, who cares for her elderly Aunt Elner, who has just fallen off a ladder after being attacked by wasps while trying to pick figs.

She had an earthquake kit in the garage, where she kept bottled water, matches, six cans of Del Monte chili, a small supply of her hormones, thyroid medicine, aspirin, a jar of Merle Norman cold cream, and fingernail polish remover, and an extra pair of earrings. Although it was not very likely that an earthquake would hit Elmwood Springs, Missouri, she felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

I laughed out loud reading this. We all know someone who's ready for a disaster. But, look at the things she feels are necessary to ride out a disaster. As I write this, I wonder what would be in my earthquake kit. Maybe I'll explore that later.

Of course, in the end, there's the twist, with the deep, haunting secret, but there are plenty of laughs along the way.
I picked up both Can't Wait to Get to Heaven and The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters from the clearance rack at Half-Price Books. Robinson's novel is written in the form of one sister, Olivia's, correspondence during the other sister, Madeline's struggle with leukemia. Part of the novel seems unreal to me because it seems no one writes letters the way Olivia does. There are a few emails and faxes added in to update the book, but as I read the letters she writes, the feeling kept tugging at me that we don't write like that anymore. I try from time-to-time to send real, handwritten letters, but with email, it seems that's how I'm more apt to correspond.

The story is beautifully written and revealed in the correspondence to various people in Oliva's life and is paralleled nicely to Don Quixote, a movie Olivia is trying to produce during her sister's illness. When all is finished, it is easy to see that Maddie is Don Quixote and Olivia is Sancho.

This is absolutely not a book I would have chosen on my own, but a reader-friend, Kelly, loaned it to me. And I LOVED it. While the title is a bit deceiving (really, there are only 1-2 brief mentions of sex in the book), it is a great non-fiction travel journal. Troost and his girlfriend end up living in the Pacific on a small island called Tarawa in the Kiribati Islands. (Yes, I had to get the Atlas out to find it.)
Marteen and Sylvia move to Tarawa and live there for two years. Living on the island, where electricity is intermittent at times, where there is no air conditioning, where life moves at a different pace, allows Marteen experiences most of us will never have: fishing with just a piece of line, a hook, and bare hands to pull in a 25-lb. yellow fin tuna; catching dinner for each night's meal; body surfing.
There's a part of me that would love to leave everything behind and head to a remote place like this, but then I wonder how many of my creature comforts I could give up. Maybe it's best that I live vicariously through Troost. Sometimes it is nice to dream about living at the end of the world.

And, now, I have to choose my next book from my stack of summer reading. Will it be War and Peace, The Other Boleyn Girl, or something fun and entertaining? We'll see.

Lucky Number Seven

Monday, Dave and I celebrated our seventh year of marriage. In typical fashion, we had a great meal and reflected on what we've done and favorite moments.

There were no gifts; there was no trip. And, I'm OK with that. Dave has been hounding me for a couple of months with: Are we going somewhere? Are we exchanging gifts? And, I've been indecisive, saying, "I really don't care. What do you want to do?" Thankfully, Dave didn't let my inability to make a decision stop him from making dinner reservations at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. I did tell him a few days before our anniversary that if we bought gifts, we could go shopping together, because--frankly--I had run out of time.

In reflecting on all of this, I'm happy. Happy that we're at a place where we know we'll be together and that we don't have to schedule time for one another. Happy that I don't need a gift as a token of Dave's love for me: I see it everyday in all of the little things that he does for me. He still opens the car door for me. He holds my hand when temperatures are cool enough to comfortably allow. He drops me close to the door when it's raining out.

On a side note, for our first anniversary, we did plan a trip to San Antonio for the weekend. Dave had a great room in a hotel on the Riverwalk booked. Three weeks prior to our anniversary, we adopted Mason. About three days prior to our trip, Mason got sick. We couldn't go off and board him while he was sick. We didn't know how long it would take him to recover, so we cancelled our plans. The day we were scheduled to leave, Mason was all better. Maybe that experience jaded us from making plans for a trip again.

Jonas Update

Mike and Letha are settling in with Jonas. Jonas has persuaded his mom to let him start a blog--he's a pretty articulate fellow for someone just learning to talk. You can read Jonas' blog here.

But, a story Jonas probably won't tell on himself or his dad. . . Letha had mentioned to us that there was a "diaper incident" in the Embassy in Guatemala; Friday I got the details.

Mike, Letha, and Jonas arrived a bit early to the Embassy to find a typical government building filled with too few seats and standing room only. Finding a seat on a window ledge, they rested Jonas there while standing in front of him keeping him entertained for the wait. Mike picked Jonas up at some point, and they noticed some liquid on the ledge. Letha immediately suspected a leaky diaper and had Mike investigate. Mike gave an all clear. A few minutes later, they discovered Jonas' pants were wet, so Letha headed off to the bathroom to change him.

In the restroom of a government building where families come to finalize adoptions, there was no diaper changing station. Thankfully, the toilets had lids, so Letha lowered the convex lid and laid Jonas down. His head kept slipping down from the ridge in the seat; Letha straddled him while changing the diaper to ensure that he didn't slip right off the seat onto the floor. Jonas laughed hysterically at his mom and her diaper changing maneuvers.

With the diaper changed, Letha and Jonas emerged from the restroom to discover that Mike and found seats. After sitting down, Letha noticed a family in the window where they were previously perched with Jonas. Then, Letha noticed that the family was holding up their paperwork, their urine-soaked paperwork. While Letha and Mike knew the origin of the liquid that now soaked someone else's paperwork, the family was curious.

My how life has changed.

Cooking

Few activities bring me as much pleasure as cooking does. I love to read recipes for pleasure. When my work schedule allows, I love to try new recipes. Often on Sundays this past school year, I cooked all afternoon so that Dave and I would have meals ready to go when we get home from a hard day of work.

This afternoon, I've puttered around in the kitchen fixing two pans of lasagna for friends--one for death, the other for birth, baking banana bread, making a three-bean salad, and making chicken salad. I still have lettuce to wash for salads next week. I can't begin to tell you what Dave and I will eat for dinner. Maybe a burger, maybe a salad, maybe jalapeno-mushroom melts. I declined the opportunity to go to a cook-out with brisket, just to stay home, do laundry and cook. I know that may sound crazy, but after being gone all day yesterday and working 10-11 hour days all last week, I just wanted to cook.

I'm not really sure what it is about cooking that I enjoy so much; I do know that it certainly isn't the dirty dishes that are created. But, I've been washing as I cook this afternoon. I know I enjoy eating, so maybe that's part of where my joy in cooking emanates. I think part of my satisfaction comes from seeing people eat and enjoy the food I've made. I truly feel happy when someone exclaims, "This is delicious!" I feel like I'm filling a need--especially when cooking for those who might not have the time to cook right now. Just maybe my lasagna will provide more than nourishment for the body; I hope it provides food for the soul, speaking in a language unheard, telling the recipient of my meal how much I care for them.

Here's the recipe for banana bread I used. It's from a friend of my great-grandmother's, Miss Wilma. I've modified it to use self-rising flour by omitting the salt and baking soda added to plain flour. I never have plain flour in the house; I prefer self-rising. I also cheat by using my Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer; I'm so spoiled by it: I just turn it on and let it mix. I don't really mash the bananas in advance, I just tear each into five or six chunks and add them one at a time. And, I love the new cooking sprays with flour: what a time and mess saver.

Banana Bread
Ingredients
1/2 c. shortening
1 1/4 c. sugar
2 eggs
2-3 mashed bananas
2 c. self-rising flour
1 t. vanilla
2/3 c. chopped pecans, optional
1/2 c. coconut, optional

Preheat oven to 350. Cream sugar and shortening. Add eggs one at a time, blending after each addition. Add mashed bananas; mix well. Add flour 1/2 c. at a time, blending after each addition. Stir in vanilla. Fold in pecans or coconut. Pour into a greased, floured loaf pan or 4-mini loaf pans. Bake for 1 hour.

My banana bread is almost done. Surprisingly Mason isn't bugging me to fix his dinner, though it's well past his usual supper time. Maybe the heat's getting to him. So, I'll go and bring extreme pleasure to one more individual--Mason is the only dog I've seen get winded from eating dinner. He must know I'm typing about him; he just came over to visit and remind me that it's supper time. I spoke too soon.

Sounds of the Night

Growing up in the country, I took for granted the chirp of crickets and tree frogs that lulled me to sleep in the summer time. After we moved into our current home, one of the first things I noticed on the first night we spent in the house was the delightful sound of tree frogs. Funny, living in Austin for four years, we never heard tree frogs, and it didn't even occur to me to miss them, until I laid my head down July 3, 2005, and listened to their sweet melody again.
Last night, when Dave and I finally got in bed close to 11 0'clock--which is late for me, early for him--there it was: music of the tree frogs singing a lullaby for my exhausted mind. Laying there, I said a prayer of thanks for the trees outside my bedroom window that give refuge to the tree frogs.
Dave and I agree last night is the first night we heard their sounds. Oddly, the winds were calm in those few minutes so that we could hear them. We've been plagued by winds blowing at 35-45 mph, with stronger gusts for the past three days; the house is creaking, the trees are swaying constantly, I wonder if we'll be blown to Oz. I hope the little frogs are clinging to the trees for dear life, or living in the grass for the time being.
After a week of 10-11 hour work days, followed by another hour or two of work at home, it's the little things and simple pleasures that bring such joy to a sometimes otherwise day.
As I sit here at 6 am posting, daylight is breaking around me, and I hear a night creature outside calling. Perhaps he--like Dave--wants just a few more minutes of darkness filled with sweet repose.
As a matter of fact, I should be pleading for a few more minutes. But, stress from work woke me at 4:42 this morning. At 5:09, I called it quits, got up and showered. Then, I tried on various capris to see which ones still fit and which ones need to be replaced. Next, I tried on my dress for graduation tomorrow, complete with various foundation garments. And, I've gotten a post in this morning. Funny what you can do with you get up early. But, boy that sleep would have been nice, sleep accompanied by the chirp of tree frogs. (See how I came back to the tree frogs? This paragraph almost didn't work, but I made it--sort of.)

The Summer of Concerts Continues

Saturday night we went to Billy Bob's to see one of our favorite bands, Cross Canadian Ragweed. It was a much needed escape after everything that happened on Saturday.

I think that I am officially getting old. In the past, I have never gotten tired at concerts or late night parties. But for some reason last night, I almost couldn't stay awake. In my defense, the concert ended at 1:00, but still! At one point I was doing the long blink - just trying to stay awake amid the loud music. Sleepiness aside, we had a good time. They even did a cover from Nirvana, The Man Who Sold the World (I think) in tribute to Cody's new baby boy who is named Cobain. Strange choice, but whatever. Up next is Tom Petty...

More from Guatemala

Jonas should be making his US debut about now. Dave and I are waiting for the phone call from/to Bob and Judy to ensure everyone is here and to hear about how precious Jonas is in person. I don't want to cut short Bob and Judy's fun with Jonas, so I decided to post some of the pictures that Letha shared from Days 2 and 3 in Guatemala City.

Tuesday they went to the Embassy--evidently there was a diaper "incident"; Letha tells us "it happens." The family spent time sitting by the pool. I chose pictures that would allow me to tell a story.

Wednesday they decided to take a swim; Mike went to the Embassy and picked up Jonas' visa.

Already a Ramblin' Wreck.

Jonas smiles. He must love toys.

Out by the pool. Looks like Jonas is waving.

Does he have an itch?
Did Jonas get a handful of hair? Notice Letha is pulling her hair. It could just be that it was windy, but I like to think she's telling him not to pull her hair.

So, Mike took this picture. In the other pictures, there is no one around the pool. I was just thinking how nice it must have been to have to pool area all to themselves. Then I spied this lady. You can kind of see Jonas in the edge; I wonder if he's looking at the bikini lady.

Mike and Jonas by the pool.
Jonas doesn't look like he's lovin' the hat.

Letha and Jonas enjoy the water.

Letha's caption is perfect: Budda Bellies Float.