Spring Getaway, Stop #2

Ever been on a vacation, getaway, weekend-spree, or even a quickie layover in a city, town, village, or neighborhood (that oughtta' 'bout cover it) and discovered one of its hidden treasures? Maybe it's the perfect little bookstore serving the perfectly prepared pumpkin latte. Or a second-hand resale shop that has bargains galore in your favorite style and size? How about a restaurant that serves the best (insert your favorite restaurant food here) done just the way you like it, served with a smile? Uh-huh. Those are hidden treasure moments.

Consider this: every nook and cranny on the planet has a hidden treasure (except for Ogalalla, NE...that's a sad and sorry joint). You know...the ones the locals know about but won't share with you. The place they'll go eat even as they point you somewhere three miles down the dusty highway. Think hole-in-the-wall, beat-up storefronts, maybe a wee lackluster. Now you've found it....well, so did we.

I thank grad school, in particular, for my stellar research skills - if it exists, I can find it. So don't ask me to explain the mysticism of it because I could only reply that I disappear into the dark hole of the quest and come out with some good, good stuff! One such boolean return was The Shoppe. Located off Colfax in 16th Ave district of Denver, it's a little stop-or-drop that boasts two specialties as its niche - cupcakes and cereal.

I KNOW, right?! It's a fave of the neighboring locals who apparently do it all here - from coffee-claches and mama-meetings to dessert dates and slumber parties. They all show up! While the obvious choices are the cupcakes, they've got more off-the-wall choices, too, including your pick of cereal you then customize with your favorite toppings and milk choice. Each day offers a new "cupcake of the day" - which is also the flavor of the day's featured latte - and rather eclectic but charming round tables where you can cop a squat and enjoy your confection. What's the result of our adventure?

Yummo!

Here's our selections in their cute little folded box.

(Yeah, this one needed to be a BIG photo. From left, Elijah picked the Lemon Creme. Grace, the Strawberries n' Creme. Craig the Samoan Girl Scout Cookie. Me, the Peanut Butter Chocolate.)

Now, these cupcakes were $3 each. That's a pricey cupcake. But the frosting's piled high, the cake is made from scratch, and they either have filling inside, an array of toppings above, or both! They were moist and tasty...and we smiled every bite through them!

I love that Grace's fingernails and shirt matched here cupcake. Purely circumstance...but worth a snicker and grin nevertheless.

Elijah's had lemon creme bursting from beneath the frosting...and above the lemony cake. It was tart...yes, I tried it. We all shared bites (except for Craig's because I'm allergic to coconut. Bummer).

Look at that monster smile...totally Elijah's reaction when good food's piled up in front of him.

Next time you're there, pull in for a homemade (literally) treasure that, while hidden, is too buried to be found. Your taste buds are gonna' thank you, and you get a little taste of secret Denver to boot. 

Now it's your turn...got any hidden spots of your own?  

Do tell!

Spring Getaway, Stop #1

"Hit the Road, Covaks!"

Between home and our first stop there laid one of the most heralded events in the Covak household - road trip!!! I love road trips. Love everything about them...that is, as long as no one's potty training, screaming, bickering, or otherwise complaining about their lot in life as we cruise through America in an options-loaded, leather-seated, movie-playing, music-making minivan. 'Cuz that ain't roughin' it, troops.

Now, if you can manage it, take your family getaway to a locale requiring a short road trip. This is the way to go. It's like eating gooey pizza or rich cheesecake - a little goes a long way when all you want is a touch of taste. We traveled to Denver and right on to our first destination without stopping at the hotel - this maximized the naptime for the toddler while allowing Night at the Museum to finish playing.

And why that movie, you ask?

Well, it seemed to be a good segue to our first stop on our little Rocky Mountain Metropolis Getaway - The Denver Museum of Nature and Science. 

"Just the Facts, Man."

Getting there is easy: while it's deep into the east end of Denver's core (think circa 12 miles off Colorado Blvd, locals) - which means stop-and-go traffic for a bit - who cares? You're on vacation!! It's uber-fairly priced - for our family of 5 (which includes a nearly two-year old who was free), our entry cost was a mere $34. Adults need to pony up 11 bucks for museum tickets while kids 3-18 are just $6. Yes, this can add up for a bigger family, but we were 3 hours in the exhibits before the wee ones began to spiral into mayhem and still didn't make it to Space Odyssey and all of the Wildlife Exhibit. They have cafes and a mini-bistro, but it's pricey. They'll let you pack in lunches, though, so if you're planning a day trip (and you really, really should), that's the way to go. Currently through July 18th, Body Worlds exhibit is on display at DMNS: yes, it's extra for entry, and we opted not to shell it out given the ages of our kids (G is the only one who would've appreciated it). It's plasticized skeletons, muscles, organs, and even complete bodies for perusal and education. Could be gorey, could be cool. I'm the latter in my fascination - but don't spread it around. Chuckle.

 They're listening to the world through the ears of mule deers. I shudder to think.







As for how we fared in the main wing...Grace liked the Wildlife Exhibit the best (followed by the Egyptian display in a close second). I liked the wildlife, too, but mostly because Elijah kept coming up with these crazy poses (like this one)

and asking me to take pics of him and the animals (so entirely his personality, right?) Elijah's fave was the dinosaur wing and Craig's was the Body Health where we pedaled bikes, tested eyesight, and even measured our arm spans - Craig learned that, despite what's typical (arm-span equals height), his has an extra 3". Cool. And good for b-ball.

"Did You Say Free?"

No, but I'm gonna. If you click on the museum link above, you can take a gander at the museum calendar where is posts all special exhibits dates, times, and costs. It also alerts those interested to "Free Days" at the museum. The next is in honor of Earth Day: patrons visiting Sunday, April 18th come in for free! I'm sure it'll be crowded, and the lines for the special interactive features of the Healthy Body featured exhibit are sure to be long. But the other wings shouldn't be too bad...and the savings could be worth it.

"But I'm Nowhere Near Denver!"

Yeah, that's a bummer on so many fronts, really. But don't despair too much: at www.museumlink.com, you can find a complete list of museums (you can browse by state) that tickle the fancy of any getaway, gathering, cash, or come-upping you can imagine. Go explore! Go navigate! Go memory-make! But, whatever you do, go cheap!

 This freaky-looking creature is a Three-Toed Horse that lived in the dinosaur eras. Grace insisted on a pic thus proving that ALL things horse are her treasure. Personally, I'm glad the thing is extinct.

Judsen loved this display of fiberglass sticks that formed around faces...when you shoved them into the other side. Seemed absolutely fascinating to him to see shapes of eyes, ears, noses and the like without actually seeing the face itself.

Me and Bubba at the Dinosaur exhibit.

My favorite shot of the day...taken accidentally, as most good shots are. Judsen's and Elijah's hands are carbon copies of one another...big and small. The only hand missing is Daddy's...his is the founding copy of them all. I love that.

Spring Sprung a Getaway

In August, 2006, our family struck a milestone: Grace started school. As a little kindergartener, her little four-ish foot self hit the books and started the schedule that has changed the seasonal rhythms of our entire house. Like others who enter this life phase, we succumbed our life calendar to incorporate the break in Fall, break in Spring, and a full-fledged rest-up in Summer. Holiday to-do's and go-to's now pivot on when school's out and when it resumes.

None of this is actually that bad, if you ask us. In some ways, it holds you accountable to the necessary scheduling of family connection that you're otherwise tempted to blow off as life throws you curve after curve of booked weeks and chaotic evenings. Thus, as a result of the school shift, we started planning getaways for Fall Break (one week) that have now expanded to include Spring Break, too (2 weeks). We keep it simple, pledging to "get away" as we "stay": streamlined and frugal. We take the opportunities to explore our home state of gorgeous CO (because, seriously, let's not forget that people travel for miles around to set foot in our fair land). We've even incorporated The Blessing of Staycation for our time off (if you haven't already, you've really GOT to try that). But, this time, we decided to escape to a major metropolis that boasts it's home to the following quite cool features:

• In it's "rarefied air", a golf ball travels 10% farther. Huh.
• It has bluer sky than almost anywhere else in the nation because the water vapor there is so little, the sky actually IS bluer...it doesn't just look that way. Neat.
• It bears the moniker "Napa Valley of Beer", actually hosting the Great American Beer Festival. Music to my taste buds.
• Its airport is the largest in the nation, big enough to swallow O'Hare and Dallas Fort-Worth airports.
• Almost unbelievably, it sports 300 days of sunshine per anum - that's more than San Diego or Miami Beach. It also offers 25% less protection from the sun, so...ouch. Shellack it in the name of skin cancer.
• In an astronomical growth spurt, it's metro area grew by 30% in the 1990's: that's the equivalent of 1,000 new residents A WEEK, EVERY WEEK for 10 years. Wild!
• The state capitol bears an inscription of distinction on its 13th step poured precisely 5.280 feet above sea level. It reads (hail to the dummies), "One Mile Above Sea Level."

That last one's telltale.... but are you still

wondering where we went? 

Why, Denver, of course!

If you Google "Family Getaways in Denver, you'll get quite the variety of sources as a return. When Craig and I decided we'd do well to actually engage in this great city - being as how we only live an hour from it - I did this very search. I fast learned that my definition of getaway is not (apparently) Google's. By "getaway", I mean a few days here or there...not 6 days and 7 nights at an all-inclusive resort 3000 miles away. Duh. So the planning was a bit strenuous, especially if we were going to get a lot out of a little (and dontchaknow that's my life mantra?).

But we did it! 

And the next several posts will walk down a treasured (albeit quite recent) memory lane...and I'll pass on some reviews, costs, and travel tips...just in case you decide spring has sprung, too.

Which means a getaway may be in order!

We recommend Denver, by the way. 

Wink.

I Imagine...

On a typical Sunday afternoon at the Covak house, there is much peace to be found. It is our day of rest. And since, in the language we all speak until approximately college graduation, the word "rest" actually means "play," there's a lot of that in our Sunday abode, as well.

The Covak children play with one key theme in mind, it seems; indeed, all key playing decisions stem on the statement start of "I imagine..." And there they go: off to the reeds in the grove out back (which double as the African jungle, dontchaknow) or pedaling furiously down the sidewalk before the speed demon following them ignites his extra-speed nitro flare. All's fair in the land of play, after all.

But Sunday was dreary, so in they stayed. In they stayed to play...for not a streak of sun was to found in the day.

Elijah imagined a Batman world...

 where Robin and Batman were poised to protect the cave...

after they hung Mr. Freeze by the neck with a makeshift lariat and underneath a giant vat of acid. (I imagine the locking ring from the chocolate carton and the jug itself are the lariat and vat in question.)

And let's not ignore the fight ongoing below as The Penguin and Robin come to blows while Batman races on his Batcycle to "get the troops for reinforcements." I imagine that's a pretty mess battle.












But the grin of satisfaction for an imaginary world well-played does, in fact, say it all.

Grace played alongside Bubba as the imagination ensued. Of course (gasp and shudder!), Grace's world was about horses. She assured me the aerial view of the farm was "the best angle for experiencing it."

To which I replied, "I imagine so." But the low-down to front door wasn't bad, either, I remarked. Note the detail of Grace's imagination: that's a bunny beneath the tree and a tiny bridle on the horse in the background.

Especially not with the creator's face right next to it for, as she so correctly observed: "It's a good thing this is pretend, Mommy, because if this were real right now, the people would be really scared to see my giant face outside their window." Well. Can't argue with that.

And while one barn was getting the vet's attention (that's Sarah there in the foreground leading the calf to an exam), the other barn was the site of the riding competition, complete with a corral...

(Yes, another aerial was requested for posterity.)

 

...along with a tiny rider. He's a trainer, I'm told, so he rides bareback.

And the day of riding was bright and clear and sunny...with a small chance of showers. 

Ideal weather for a Sunday.

I imagine.

Yep, I Worked It In.

At small group last Wednesday night, I was actually able to work "supercilious" into the conversation.

As a word lover, that puts me a high. I don't care what you say.

March Madness?

It's a frenzy, that's for sure. It's up. It's down. There's wins. And upsets. And losses. And upsets. It's 10 freakishly-tall men somewhere between 18 and 22 who doggedly pursue a trophy and title some of their schools have never even come close to coveting.

It's birthed an entire sub-sect of linguistic dialect. Let's see...we do have, of course, the biggies. The Big Dance. The Sweet Sixteen. The Elite Eight. The Final Four. And don't forget the Cinderella (the team that should never have a chance, but wins its pairing anyway. Last night, that was 9th seeded UNI's victory over #1 seed Kansas). Then you've got the busted bracket (not good. Not good at all). You've got the office pools, the church pools (hey, it's not really gambling....calm down), and, of course, the 1 million dollar winner who projects the perfect bracket (though Craig informs me this tradition is no more...why, I can't imagine, since to my knowledge no one ever won it in the history of the tournament).

Fans (mostly men, but not all, now) miss work over it. Become tied to the TV for it. Surf 800 channels searching for it. And the din of the crowd hundreds to even thousands of miles away blankets our house like white noise...occasionally interrupted by an outburst from my husband - sometimes good. Sometimes not.

I love March Madness. I'm not a big fan. I watch periodically in between other tasks or happenings that are, quite frankly, far more attractive on the magnet scale of fun. This is the first year in a few I haven't completed a bracket. For Craig, it's calculated observation coupled with playing records with a bit of rooting for the underdog mixed in. His bracket is, I'd say, a pseudo-science. Mine's gut. Pure instinct. And, I'll have you know, I'm right enough to accurately predict no less than 75% of the Final Four. Not too shabby for little watching and even less interest. So how come I love it?

Because Craig does. 

It's the only - the only - sports event he watches from beginning to end, riveted. He's watched it the entire time I've known him...ever since college when he'd wheedle his way onto my dorm sofa, captivated by the tv as I studied away. He's even traveled out of state with a friend to catch a few games in the series. These are warm memories. These are ways you write a story as a couple. I don't feel lost or abandoned. Don't feel neglected or threatened. I'm not mad about March Madness.

I'm happy it makes him happy, that he celebrates the losing of the big dog to the little dog...that he snorts in contempt when the "should have wons" blow it in the final seconds and shred his bracket.

He loves it. 

So I love it, too.

Our Little Chef

This is our little chef. 

From toddlerhood, Elijah has come into the kitchen most evenings and asked the same (in his little boy mind) burning question: "Mommy, what are we having for dinner?" At 6, he's now learned not to express his disgust for the menu with a pinched nose, snort, or the altogether dastardly announcement of "Eeeww! Yuck!" because I've oh-so-lovingly taught him this means he won't be eating any food I prepare that night. Yep, he's on his own.

So what's a boy to do? Learn to cook! He loves it: baking, mixing, blending, dumping, sorting, or flipping - it does not matter. For Christmas last year, he found this chef set in his stocking and dutifully adorns it each time he enters the "mess hall." Each meal brings some new lesson and, every so often, an added responsibility - something that he's never tried before. As a kid, he just thinks it's cool. As a mom, I do, too, because it means he's learning math and organizational skills, not to mention multi-tasking and patience.

 One afternoon, our precious friend, Morgan, came over to hang out while E was in "master chef" mode. We snapped a picture for posterity. Wink, wink.

But there's another, even better, reason I love it (well, most days anyway): I get to spend time with my middle son. And those are memories I hope he holds dear well into manhood when his wife someday asks him, "Who taught you to cook?" and he answers, smiling, "My mom did."

"Happy" Is Just a Word

Happy is just  a word. Like any other adjective, article, gerund, moniker, or oxymoron, it's just an expression of clarity unless you get what it means. Really means. Lately, in conversations with my dear friend, Amy, I've noticed us touching on the finer points of aging. Although you might surmise we considered the highs and lows of sagging skin or widening wrinkles (since that's what women at large might highlight on the topic), you would be wrong. Instead, we comment on how the gray shades between easy blacks and whites seems ever-growing, reaching far beyond what we would have pictured just 10 years ago. We admit that what we deemed significant then seems microscopically small now, if it matters at all. We sweat the small stuff less, and confess that is the result in part of choice and in part of lessons learned via the force of life.

Still, we are softer. Perhaps gentler. Maybe a bit more relaxed. Definitely happier for it.

But if we're living for the big in life to make us happy, we'll not see the change age can bring, for I know this much to be true: happy is in the little as much as the big...maybe more so since the everyday little ways construct more of our lives than the juicy biggies like weddings, jobs, births, and deaths. Each day brings some reason to be happy though, granted, some days are harder than others.

A while back, we inherited a little book from friends called 14,000 things to be happy about. This one's a gem because it's nothing but a long list of reasons to be happy. Here's a sampling of my favorites from the book:

• straightening the pantry
• air so crisp and clear it draws you outside
• fish fry and beer on tap
• not minding the silences
• staying until the candle burns out
• swapping recipes over the backyard fence
• being forgiven
• writing a final sentence
• dinners that include a green salad and hot, buttered French bread
• shopping at garage sales
• living with the knowledge you've done your best
• praying for a sick child
• back doors: the ones best friends enter through
• the be-all end-all
• flopping in a hammock for a snooze before dinner

And here's some of my own:

• squeezing around the right guy on a motorcycle
• closing your eyes on the ferris wheel
• the silence of the house when you're home alone
• a porch swing, iced tea, and crickets chirping during the Iowa sunset
• walking the campus of your alma mater
• a margarita poolside on an ocean liner in the middle of the Pacific

Think of some of your own....maybe even write them down. Make a list of 14,000 of your own.

You may find they make you happy. 

What CAN Be Found in Lost?

To me, the answer to that question lately is "Not much." Yyyyeeeessss, it's Season 6, people. The Final Season. The season that promises, "All your questions will be answered." Big teases. I've got more questions than ever and my answers to others are in short supply; in other words, ain't nothin' different in 6 than in 1 through 5! But loyalty is my strong suit...yes, even to a fave tv show...and I'm determined to stick it out until the very end believing that the kicker will be worth it - rather akin to pregnancy and labor. Snicker.

But, to that end, I aspire to stay informed as ever, struck as ever by the whammy one-liners these writers throw at us when we least expect it. In the episode "Lighthouse" a couple of weeks ago, one in particular stood out - enough so that it's worth digressing for a moment to inspect. While at the island lighthouse (you know, that giant structure no one noticed for all these weeks and - whammo - there it is as big and burgeoning as...oh, say...a giant three-toed statue) Jacob appears to a befuddled Hurley. In the distance, we see Jack sitting atop a rock outcrop staring at the ocean, entranced in thoughts of who-knows-what. Hurley recounts to Jacob Jack's explosive response to discovering Jacob's been watching him since childhood. Jacob tells our beloved wide one, "Jack is here because he has to do something. He can't be told what that is - he has to find it himself. Sometimes you can just hop in the back of someone's cab [Hurley's story] and tell 'em what they're supposed to do. Other times, you have to let 'em look out at the ocean for a while." Boy, if that isn't a life mantra for me. Reminds me of a line in a Rich Mullins song: "I'd rather fight You for something I don't really want than take what You give that I need." And it just goes to show that what we want isn't always what we need and what we need is almost never what we understand. Yep, another life lesson from Lost.

Still, as this season progresses, I am continually (as always) shocked and appalled at the skill these writers possess to orchestrate such a synergy between time and place that creates the weaving of Truth we call Lost. Check this link to a compilation short that particularly accentuates how they've interspersed not just topics, motifs, and character arcs but multiple seasons, as well - even as far back as episode 1, mind you.

Yes, season 6 is tricky since it appeals to my junky side - the addiction to seeking elusive answers to questions I barely even understand. Isn't that just like life...pursuing answers you fear you'll never get until you enter a time or place where you couldn't care less about them anyway? But unlike the "real world," the fantasy island of Lost will disclose its hidden treasures, will unearth its buried secrets so our need to know will exist no more...or so the bigwigs promise.

I suppose only time will tell - whether it's the alpha-verse or beta-verse is anybody's guess - and they've got 9 episodes to do it.Chop-chop, boys. Chop-chop.

A pretty good read, by the way.

Even if it only covers the first few seasons.

Perfect if you've only just found Lost. 

Gasp. 

Better late than never, I s'pose.

Tickle Your Funny Bone

Craig was headed out the door to work this morning and, en route, passed by the tv airing the morning news. I noticed he stopped in front of the screen, bag in hand and clock ticking; this meant whatever had grabbed his attention was a whopper. Then I heard him laughing out loud (yeah, if you've met him, you're pausing her going, "Say what?") Then he have a shout out: "Com'ere and watch this!"

So happy to have DVR because, press of a button, the commercial went back to its beginning. The following is what we saw and, by the second frame, I was laughing out loud, too. Maybe it's because we're in our 30s; maybe it's because we just replaced the motor in our fridge and a transmission switch in our minivan. Or maybe seeing real life played out in a series of comic snippets provides the humor relief we all need on a Friday.

Whatever the reason, this tickles the funny bone. Enjoy!

The Joke Was On Me

A funny moment happened last night in our couples small group at church. We were playing "Two Truths and a Lie" to get our momentum going. Don't know that one? You simply come up with three statements, two of which are truths, one which is a lie, and you say them to the group. Their job is to discern which is the lie. You know, you really could have gotten that from the title, if you tried.

Anyway, what started out as an icebreaker for a few minutes fast became a 45 minute session of laughing and sharing. While that was great, hang with me, 'cuz that wasn't the funny moment.

When it came to the Covak's turn, Craig spoke our three statements. Now, picking him is strategic in itself since it's nearly impossible to read his face - makes the poker pots plentiful while opponents try to spot a tell, don't you know. Our three statements were:

• We are legally licensed to marry and bury.
• I knew Candice was my wife the first time I met her.
• Our first major conflict was about Candice deciding to keep her maiden name.

Can you spot the lie?

That's the best part, see - figuring out if what you think about a person or, in this case, a couple is accurate or if you're just spittin' bark on an old tree. 

Yeah, that's what I said. 

But that's not the funny moment, either. 

Yes! I am getting to it!

Just in case you're wondering, we are legally licensed to perform marriages and funerals. Craig did know I was his wife upon our first handshake - my wedding present from him was his journal from 1994 with a ribbon marking the date of this entry: "Today, I met my wife." Same date we met. Still have that journal. But never in a million years would it occur to me to keep my maiden name, largely for three reasons. One, a husband's name is his first and most auspicious gift (I wear it with great pride to signify I belong to Craig). Two, my daddy would take me to task for even thinking about refusing to surrender his name for my man's. And, three, my married name is better. Yeah, if you think that's vain you don't know me all that well. For that matter, you must not know my maiden name, either, or you'd be celebrating how I married up to a quite cool Jane Hancock.

Yes, still digressing.

So, what was the funny moment? Yes, yes...if you stay with me long enough, I'm told I always come back to point. Here it is: no one (and I mean no one) thought #3 was a lie. (They all voted #2 as the lie, for the record). And I think that's funny. Hysterical.

They all thought I'd for sure battle for "my independence" and "identity", as they put it.You want to keep your independence and identity? Be lonely forever. Reshaping both of those is what's brought me probably the greatest joy of my life. Ironically, there was a time when I neither wanted to marry nor have children. I never would have taken a man's name even if I did marry him, and I would have told you the reasons were because a woman shouldn't surrender her independence and identity. Guess the group wasn't that far off, after all.

But that was all before I met them. Two "guys." My guy on earth (here, here to being Mrs. Candice Covak) and my Guy in Heaven. They both changed me. Remade me. And now #3 is the lie.

Huh. 

If I weren't so blissfully happy, I might say I guess the joke was on me. 

Changing it Up

I'm making some changes to my blog! I've added one gadget, in particular, that I'm excited about. I titled it "Music Me", and you can see it on the sidebar to the right, just below our family pic. Amazon offers this one, and I think it's one of the coolest widgets I've come across in a while. With it, you can create a list of your fave mp3s and post it for your visitors' listening pleasures. Just hit the play icon center in the box; the list launches with the artist and song title at the bottom while a 20 sec (or so) highlight of the tune plays. How great is that?!

Now you can get a true taste of friends' music flavor (which is why I called it Music Me) while you're reading posts and/or catching up on the latest from your greatests! I also like that, should you hear a song you just can't do without, you can click on it, and you'll be automatically redirected to Amazon.com to download it. You can even see how much it is at the bottom before you click. Talk about multitasking...

By the way, if you see a song you introduced to me, all the more fun...Julie, "Love You Madly" by Cake is my newest musical addition. Wink to you. And please pass on your latest raves or classic faves...I'll be sure to take a listen if I don't already know it and would love to add it to my list.

I also added a "Socialable" gadget that lets readers "Share" the post on their personal social networking outlets: there's a list at the right just below the "Followers" box. Now, if you think of a friend who could use a laugh or a buddy who's thinking on the same issue, you can just click where you want to share it, and  - poof! - it'll take you to your login page.

Fun to change it up, eh?

The One You've Been Waiting For...

Yep, this is the one. You've been biting your nails and twisting your hands just itching to discover the answers to these stumpers. Yes, you have. Yes, you have. Don't pretend. Well, here they are...grammar errors.

Ah, grammar. We all use it. Some more prominently than others, grant you. And some better than others, I know. But why not let's all improve, eh? So, here's the common ones I'm asked most about, the ones I see most often in manuscripts, hear in everyday conversation, cringe at (but not openly) during parties and, most especially, wherever alcohol is involved. (Raise your glass).

And you never know...you might just find learning something new is fun. And palatable to your inner grammarian.

Or you can just humor me.

1. Who vs. Whom: In a nutshell, one is the nominative case (who) and one is the objective case (whom). But forget all that. Here's the easiest way to know: substitute a personal pronoun. If 2nd person (he, she, they) fits, use who. If 3rd person (him, her, them) fits, use whom. Examples? 
• You wrote the letter to whom? (to her)
• The boy, who is a junior, plays basketball. (he plays basketball)

     2.  Good vs. Well: If you need an adverb, you need well. If you need an adjective, you need good.
          Adverbs, you might recall, describe or modify verbs while adjectives do the same job for nouns. Easy 
          enough, right? In that case, you'd play the piano well and enjoy a good day at the park. Funny how
          well only sounds right when we use it "right", but good - not so much. Hence, why we proclaim, "She
          sure sings good!" Grimace and groan.
 
     3.  It's vs. Its: Well, this one's just poor spelling, see. It's is the contraction "it is": you need an 
          apostrophe to show it as such. Its is possessive, so no apostrophe. "It's raining" versus "The dog lost 
          its collar."

     4. What's Dangling? If you hear the terms dangling modifier or dangling participle, don't check your fly.
         Not that kind of dangling. A modifier is a "describer," and it dangles if it's not located next to what it's
         modifying in your sentence. Huh? Here's the breakdown:

• At the age of five, his father died.  (You just said the father died when he was 5. You mean the father died when his son was 5).
• Hidden in the depths of the pantry, I found the coveted Snickers bars. (You've got issues if you're hiding in the pantry, but since that's what you said...Don't you mean the Snickers were hiding?)

     5.  Went vs. Gone: Here's the bad: "We could of went to the diner instead!" Here's the good: "We could
          have gone to the diner instead!" Just for kicks, I threw in the good 'ol "could of"...note to self: that    
          doesn't exist. Always use have.

     6.  There's no such word as irregardless. Not a word. Regardless. Or forget it altogether. Other 
          offenders? Alot. Anyways. Whenever (I'll explain). And don't forget everhow. Now three of these are 
          easy fixes: a lot (two words); anyway; and however. But use "when" correctly: "When I went to the
          store" not "Whenever I went to the store." When tells time. Let it do its job. Please?

So, do I sometimes talk bad? Yep, some days I think my language could of went better. But then I remember that there's always room for slang, urban-speak, and the loose lips that never sink ships when you're hanging with the ones you love. Irregardless, its never a bad idea to strengthen everyday skills because as writers (whom know best) will tell you: To say it clear and true, the words will have to do.

Uh-huh.

C U Soon, 53

Yesterday, we said a collective goodbye to a most beloved friend. I say "collective" because most of us have already said goodbye in some form or fashion: maybe even more than once. For that reason, Craig and I decided, funerals and memorials are tricky. They are, of course, not for the dead, but for the living. And should you go if you've already said goodbye? Yep. And here's why: saying farewell to a friend together is rather like saying hello to God together. It's the reason we go to church. It's also the reason we go to weddings and baptisms and baby dedications and birthday parties and anniversary bashes...and even funerals. We go to mark the occasion together.

Because we need to do it together. 

To remember. 

Together.

So March 6, 2010, was a collective goodbye. It was also, I thought, an interesting day of numbers. It was the anniversary of David & Renee's first date. (Yeah, that one grabbed my heart like a vise). It comes in David's 40th year, 5 months after his birthday, during his 13th year of marriage to Renee. We sang 5 songs and saw Philippians 4:13 on the program cover (note that 4+1 is 5 which morphs 4:13 into 53). Huh. That leads to perhaps the most noteworthy number of the day: 53. March 6th marked the 53rd day since David's death - and he has two sons...ages 5 and 3. And, according to www.timeanddate.com (which provides a meteorological breakdown of weather every ten minutes anywhere in the world), from 2:54 to 4:54 pm in Colorado Springs, CO, the temperature was...wait for it...53 degrees. On the dot. We released red balloons in the west parking lot, each one containing a note we jotted to honor the memory of David. In letting loose those red spheres of latex, we weren't just making an empty gesture: we were signifying our collective release of a friend, letting him go to rest high on that mountain. I checked the time: we finished the release at 3:47 pm...when it was 53 degrees.

Now, I'm not a numerologist. I'm not convinced that numbers make the world go round, though I do think they matter to God in specific biblical contexts. And maybe I'm reading far too much into  it. Or maybe not. Sometimes miracles are where we see them. Where we search for them. Where we're willing to embrace them.

And then they, like we, are found. 

Craig and I released one balloon from both of us: our message read, "C U Soon." Because we will. We look forward to it. From this day on, I'll associate David's memory with the number 53 if, for no other reason, than I believe we saw comfort that day...on the wind carrying away red balloons, under the sunshine of a blue-sky canvased day, amidst an unseasonably warm 53. On the 53rd day.

Finally, I'll say this: I was a David Hames groupie. Correction. I AM a David Hames groupie. A fan. A follower of his example. He was a "special song" performer who didn't become someone else on that stage so much as he let us glimpse a part of who he really was - our resident rock star. Yesterday, we recalled probably his most momentous performance - "Kryptonite" by 3 Doors Down. It seemed, when David sang, he did it better than the original artists...and I sat there listening to the band do that song, and I heard my friend's voice singing it better. Doing it better. Which was pretty much how he lived: always wanting to do better. Be better.

Yeah, he was one of the good guys.

I grieve his absence on this earth. 

But I'm comforted, nonetheless. 

By Kryptonite.

By red balloons. 

By 53. 

And because I know I can tell him I'll "C U Soon."

Rolling Doubles

We love board games...viva la game night, I say. Ever play one where you get a bonus turn, spin, roll, or general upgrade to winner status if you roll a double? Never do you pay so much attention to little dots on plastic cubes than when you need a good pair of snake eyes or stick men or high fives because you know it means a pure, unadulterated jackpot awaits you...and you didn't have to do a thing to earn it.

Girls' Getaway is like rolling doubles.

Time spent with your quality women reminds you life is a cherry pie. Or chocolate mousse. Or Snickers cheesecake. Or salty, hot and crispy fries. Or ice cold beer. (What's with the food metaphors?) Whatever. The point is this: You get to enjoy the escape without forking over some obscene price to get it. Like I said...rolling doubles.

Last week, I escaped for a brief but boss day-and-a-half with three quality ladies: Ami, Michelle, and Michelle (whom I call Z and Bee, respectively...you can see why). We ran away to the Broadmoor where we lazed about in a penthouse floor suite, drinking wine and eating junk (thanks, Courtesy Clerk, who upgraded us in reply to our announcement we were on a girls' getaway). Boy, these are the days.

Because, yes, we are not 18 anymore. We don't want to go clubbing. We don't want to get all dressed up. We don't want to remember manners or cut up a little person's food or plan our wardrobe with access to our nursing bras in mind. We didn't talk to demanding clients or sit in rush hour traffic or cook a single meal. There were no high heels, pantyhose, or shellacked lips; instead, there were comfy clogs, lazy clothes, and makeup removed long ago. We just want to rest and remind ourselves that we are women - apart from the hats we wear, we are just gals God made, special all 4. So we laughed and relaxed and reveled in the freedom we each prioritized with our time, our money, and (our most precious commodity) our energy. We are thankful for our husbands who held the forts and sent us on our way. We are thankful for the best cheeseburgers - EVER - and for a balcony with a view to a range of mountains kissed by the setting sun. But, most of all, we are thankful for each other and for a getaway that reminds us yep - the best things in life are free.

Sigh.

If there's not a song about it, there oughtta' be. 

Maybe they should call it Rolling Doubles.

                                                                                 The view from our penthouse balcony.

Wish it had been just a touch warmer...could've enjoyed our wine under the stars while watching the fire in the outdoor patio pit. 

 We ate dinner at Blue Star. Cheeseburgers were grilled to perfection with just a touch of smoke and gooey cheddar. Yummo.

The place where the good times roll...as much as the doubles.

A God's Girls Bunny

We go to a mid-week Wednesday night service at our church. This semester, Craig and I are leading a couples small group while Grace and Elijah attend their respective kids' groups. (No, we don't leave Judsen at home alone but  he's in with the wee ones and so has no stories to share...at least, not one's he can tell us.)

Grace's group is called "God's Girls."

At the mere mention of this class, Grace claps her hands and squeals with delight...much how some other little girls regard the Jonas brothers or pierced belly buttons, I suppose...so I ain't complainin'. The class is comprised of 2nd and 3rd grade girls with curriculum with the aim of memorizing key pieces of Scripture regarding a variety of themes from service to character to love and obedience. Her teacher, "Miss Mandy," is a gem, for sure: her heart for girls in this stage of life is absolutely remarkable, and Grace's growth reflects that passion. She has a special tote bag that she got to decorate which she now uses to carry her Bible and book to class. There, she does a craft and/or exercise that promotes the verse(s) for the lesson that week; of course, her favorite part is getting to do all that with Miss Mandy and the other girls. Now, in her second year of the group, she tells me that her favorite part is the same favorite she had when she began: getting to offer requests to a buddy and then pray together for their requests.

So, Grace's last lesson involved this craft: we affectionately call it her "God's Girls Bunny."

With Easter around the corner, the craft mirrored the resurrection story (the bunny goes in and out of its burrow just like Jesus went in and out of the tomb). So, Grace brushed melted butter on her bunny,

then baked him up 

while she told me about the story and shared the tasty bread with her brothers.

A good class, great experiences, and one of the greatest teachers a parent could ask for...thanks for the God's Girls Group, Miss Mandy - you are pouring into one of this family's three most precious commodities.

Wood Floors

On this one, I'm following the lead of my friend, Mandy, and letting the pictures tell the story. The lead-in? We tore the carpet out of our halls and family room and laid new wood floors to match the dining room and entry. Here's the process.

Plain, beige carpet gives way
to 2 1/4" red oak. The wood smells great and looks even better. Downside? The saws and dust it takes to get it on the floor.

But look at that gorgeous grain...

...and check out the final planks.

     And then the staining began....pee-eww! Now them's some fumes!

 

But check out the before...

...and the after. Chestnut. Charming.

Then came three coats of poly sealant, expertly mixed and slathered until...

it was gleaming like this. Shiny, but an advertisement for the gag reflex if ever I encountered one.

And here's the final product, minus our lovely faux-lamb's wool rug that we've since laid before the couch. 

We'd recommend our expert if you're local and ever need him: he's a true artisan and an all-around good guy.

Final thoughts? Well, wood floors, I've decided, are much like a good man: 

So durable.

So low-maintenance.

So gratifying.

Such a blessing.