Hillarious! My friend, Kristen, sent this to me. Happy Halloween (and Happy Birthday to Michael)!!!

So we finally managed to put in our vegetable garden this year - and what a garden it has been! We planted zuchinni, yellow squash, eggplant, cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes in the 16 x 20 space. To keep the critters out, including the many deer that graze in our backyard, we had to build a 6 foot high fence around the space.

My parents came for their annual visit just before we put in the garden. While they were with us, we enjoyed many of my mom’s wonderful home-cooked dishes. One of our favorite recipes was my mom’s ratatouille. My parents make it every summer since it is the perfect recipe to utilize an abundant harvest of veggies.

I cooked a batch of it last week and it was delicious! All of the veggie ingredients came from our garden, with the exception of the onion and the zuchinni (since the ground hogs managed to wipe ours out entirely, early in the season).

Here’s the recipe:

RATATOUILLE

1 medium eggplant, cubed
2 small or 1 large zuchinni, chopped
1 green pepper, diced
3/4 onion, chopped

Saute the ingredients on med. high in 4-5 tablespoons of olive oil. Add garlic powder, salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning to taste. While the veggies saute, cut up the equivalent of two 14.5 ounce cans of diced tomatoes. Add two packets of spenda or two tablespoons of sugar to the tomatoes. If they are especially juicy, you can add cornstarch or flower to thicken them up. Then toss the diced tomatoes into the pan and stir to heat everything together.

Bon appetit!

Move over, Michael. You’ve got competition!!! This little guy has certainly stolen my heart. He’s my nephew, Joey! This photo was taken this past Christmas, during my family visit.

Since I live five states away from most of my family, I don’t get to see my little Valentine very often. So it’s quite exciting to experience his growth and development in quarterly doses.

Although Joe is three feet tall already, he’s only 20 months old. Apparantly there are some giraffe-genes in the family. Aside from my unusally long neck, I think I missed the boat on the tall genes. But not my brother, Dave. At 6′5, I’d say Joe is taking after his papa.

Last time I saw him, Joey was becoming quite interested in language. If you asked him who he was, he responded, “Doe.” And he kept leading me around the house and asking, “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?” And then afer I had answered about twenty What’s that questions, he would smile as if to say, “I knew that already. I just wanted to see how long I could make you answer questions.” Yeah, that’s frighteningly a little reminiscent of my brother, Dave, too. Joe is like a little mini-Dave. A Dave/Joe hybrid. A Doe.

This is just too cute! I can definately relate to that cat.

I can’t decide. Is 29 too old for MySpace or am I just too stubborn (maybe lazy) to set up an account? Recently the girls at work (totally hip, cute, early twenty-somethings) introduced me to FaceBook, an assured me that other ’seniors’ like myself network through FaceBook. It looked more appealing than MySpace, to be honest… a little less trashy, quieter, and minus the schizophrenic animations that characterize the MySpace accounts I’ve viewed. Well, obviously, I’m a little reluctant about the whole thing, so I haven’t set up an account yet. I will definately keep you posted, if I succumb to the temptation to enter this particular facet of the cyber world, but for now, I wobble on the fence of indecision. But look! Just to my left, a gate has opened… and I’ve discovered that my interview has been published on the JET MySpace account. Do I dare to enter?

I just discovered that Richmond is home to the only alternative fueling station in the state of Virginia. I didn’t realize that cars could run on compressed natural gas! To find out more about flex-fuel and bi-fuel vehicles, check out this article in the Richmond Times Dispatch.

November 13, 1993 to April 24, 2007

She was 13 1/2 years old and still full of spunk until the day she passed. We’re pretty sure she had a heart attack. She was a blessing for our family from the day my dad and I snuck her home. I have to say, Mom, was not too crazy about her at first (hence, the sneaking Hershey to our home)… but after only a couple of days, Hershey had won us all over. She was the best dog I could have ever wished for. She was my first dog. And she cared for her family fiercely, although she was a friend to all creatures large and small. She made us better people and brought us together during some particularly difficult years. An angel stays until the work is done. And Hershey was our angel.

My mom wrote this poem about Hershey after she passed:

HERSHEY

I’d never owned a dog before
Nor did I want a canine pet
But when a pup showed up at home
I took one look at those brown eyes
And fell in love, to my surprise.

She was so sweet and small and smart
I took her quickly to my heart
A pudgy ball of chocolate brown
So Hershey was the perfect name
Our lives would never be the same.

We taught her tricks within a day
To fetch and sit, roll over and stay
Her favorite trick was catch the stick
Or chase the ball or frisbee for a treat
Then take a well-earned nap beside our feet.

She took us for a daily stroll
Through many a park and wooded knoll
She sniffed and ran and swam with glee
And never let us stray too far away
She herded us together along the way.

Her tail wagged with every touch
She knew we loved her very much
And she returned our love ten-fold
She’d never think about running away
Being part of our pack just made her day.

As years passed by her thick brown coat
Had more white hair around the throat
Her muzzle and her steps were lighter
Arthritis got a nasty grip
And gave her pain around her hip.

We knew her dog-years measured old
But she was worth her weight in gold
So when on one bright day she lay
And breathed so heavy in the grass
We could not believe that she did pass.

So Hershey is now a fond memory
Her life was so charmed and care-free
We know her sweet soul is enjoying a stroll
In dog heaven where she patiently waits
Til our family joins her past the pearly gates.

Right now Potter is curled up in my lap, purring loudly. This one is attached to me like glue. He follows me everywhere I go, even if that means entering my studio with me. He’s not too fond of the sound of metal clanking on metal, but usually he curls up in the other corner of the room, basking in the sun, while I work.

Almost one year ago, we discovered 5 little kittens in the woodpile outside of our house. We wanted to keep them all, of course, but agreed that two was a nice number, which naturally grew into three. Since we are big dorky fans, we named the 5 kittens after Harry Potter characters.

Hagrid, the orange Tabby in the pic, was adopted by our friends, Dale and Harriet. We just saw him last night. Lily, who is not in the pic, was adopted by a nice lady in Annapolis, MD. We don’t see her much, but hear she is doing well and plump as a pin-cushion. Potter, is the long-haried black with white socks and chin. Albus (Dumbledore) is the larger black and white, short-hair. Sprout is white with a couple of black spatterings. She is our baby. We had to feed her with an eyedropper when we first found her because she was the runt of the litter and couldn’t hold herself up long enough to eat.

So this is our happy little kitten family that we discovered in the woodpile outside of our house. Today is their first birthday.

I departed the icy airs of my birth city, St. Louis, on Superbowl Sunday. While most Americans huddled around their televisions, feasting on bean dip and wings, entertained by the lastest installments of creative advertisement, if not by Peyton Manning’s renowned gyrations, I pressed my face against the cold glass of the airplane window and wondered at the Full Snow Moon, in between gulps of cran-apple juice, and essays by Barbara Kingsolver.

The Full Snow Moon was named as such by the native american tribes of the north and east because the heaviest snow usually fell during that moon/month. Some tribes also referred to this moon as the Full Hunger Moon since the harsh weather conditions often made hunting and gathering difficult during February.

Whatever the name, the moon was certainly a sight to behold on February 4th - something that the flight attendant (bless her heart) was not shy to point out to the ten or so passengers aboard the flight. Sadly, not everyone shared her enthusiam for this particularly large and yellowish moon, hanging like an ornament right outside the window, and therefore, left their blinds drawn or resumed reading or napping upon discovering what the excitment was all about.

I suppose the things that we witness everyday, are those that we most easily take for granted - like the moon, the rising sun, people we love, good food in our bellies, the abilities to walk and talk. Ironic how when something is absent, it is oftentimes noticed more than when it is present.