Mike


2016 can suck it. This is a year we have lost more legends than normal. Bowie, Prince, Ali, Gary Marshall…. these are all heavy hitters, – there’s another we just lost. He didn’t sell a million records and he didn’t win an Oscar, but he was well known among many, and he was loved and respected by all who knew him. 

Mike Mahoney was the son of an Irish immigrant, a sheep herder, who grew up in Casper and he was my grandpa. 

I can’t speak much for his time in the army, growing up during the depression, and herding sheep as a child, though he always told the best stories that I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

I can tell you the strength and the character he exuded was a bar set high. He raised four kids, as a single father, in the 60s. He was a gym teacher, a referee, and a driver’s ed instructor. But to me, he was grandpa. He taught me how to fish, he tried with all his might to teach me to ski, neither of us knowing that I had a brain condition that made balancing on water behind a boat damn near impossible. He did teach me to drive both a car and a boat, but he also bought me my Ken doll because he was tired of me making him walk with my Barbie down the aisle, and he did walk her down the isle many times. He gave me my first taste of beer, and it was awful -Schlitz, so I didn’t go near beer again for a very long time. He is also who my daughter is named after. Something my shy little girl seemed to understand when she last saw him. 


The man never sat still for long. Maybe a few minutes under a tree at the lake smoking his pipe before jumping up to water the grass or mow it or work on some project that needed to be done. He was a master at MacGyvering things. My first fishing pole was a willow branch with fishing line tied to it. I caught quite a few fish with it too. 


Because he was a teacher for 41 years and because he taught half the state of WY how to drive, everyone knew him. Everyone. We could be eating lunch near the Tetons and you would hear, “Mr. Mahoney!!” Or my favorite: sitting in a boat in the canyon (which I have a fear of btw) after we have just hit a large rock and the boat that was taking on water before (which caused it to sit lower in the water thus hitting said rock) was taking on more water now. We looked at each other and he immediately grabbed the life jackets. There were two good ones and three of us in a boat. And one of us sinks like a bucket of lead in the water. My grandpa was so athletic and so coordinated there was nothing he couldn’t do…. except swim. His body just didn’t float. So while I’m looking around for the nearest spot in the canyon I could get us to, I hear “Mr. Mahoney! Is everything ok?” They threw us a rope and towed us back. This was common though. His former students were always happy to help if needed. Or just happy to see him and catch up. He was loved by so many people, he was respected by everyone, and he deserved respect. He did anything needed to help others. He raised four kids on his own and made sure they knew they were loved and that they had good quality time together, with him, and each other. The kind of man you could always rely on. He filled his kids and grandkids with memories and life lessons that we could fill books with. Above all – he was honest, hard working, he loved his family, and sacrificed whatever needed for those he loved.  Mike Mahoney wasn’t just a great man or a hero, he was a legend. And the fact that we lost him in 2016 proves that. 

“O Fare the Well old Casper Town I am Bedding you adue/For its maney the Windy Day I spent between old Salt Creek and You,” John J. Crowley

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Happy Halloween!

I’ve always really liked Halloween. Maybe it’s because this is the time of year when we can finally get back outside, maybe it’s the fun of it all, maybe it’s because my birthday is the day after…. whatever, I love Halloween. 

The hubs and I have a long tradition of overdoing the costumes for the little guy. 

First, there was McQueen:


Then there was the Bumblebee transformer:

Last year, as we were watching “The Force Awakens”, I knew what he was going to want to be this year, I just had to figure out how. The hubs had done an outstanding job on the cars in years past, but we needed round. A big round ball. 

We thought about a paper lantern, but couldn’t find one big enough, so we settled on paper maché and a yoga ball. 

Neither Doug nor myself had ever paper machéd anything, but what the heck? We went for it. 



We did about 10 layers, though the bottom edge seemed to be a little thinner. We held our breath as we deflated the ball, but it turned out ok. So far so good. 

I taped down the ends to make it a little smoother around the top and bottom. 

Next up was the paint. This is where Doug really shines. He makes sure to get all the details as accurate as possible and takes his time to get it right. Topped with a BB8 helmet and I think we are good to go!


I keep saying we need to reel it in, especially now that there are two and we are potentially looking at a lot of work. The thing is though, when the kids are older, I want them to look back and remember how awesome their parents made their costumes. I want them to not be afraid to go for it, to keep their imaginations going, and to remember the fun. Always remember the fun.  And armholes. We need to remember arm holes….

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Well Blow Me Down!

You and I know I don’t sing the praises of a dr very often, so when I do, it means something. When I was working, I would have friends who wanted to work for the company and I wouldn’t always give them a referral. I would say we could only give so many and I had used them up or something, but the reality was,  I don’t give my seal of approval to just anyone. It doesn’t mean anything if you do. I follow the philosophy that I’m the only one with my opinion, make it valuable. 

So my past with doctors has been sketchy at best. We know I’m not a big fan of most, though I’ve surrounded myself with a pretty good team lately. 

I recently had my gallbladder removed. I was scared to do it, but met with the surgeon anyway to see what he said.  First, I researched him. It was a little too convenient to me that his office was in the same group as my GP, but people I talked to, who know the doctors around here all told me he was good. So I made an apt with Dr Trung Nguyen, General Surgeon in Fort Worth. 

Here was a man who put me at ease and scared me to death at the same time. I had no idea what to expect, but Dr Nguyen talked me through what my gallbladder did, what it should look like, what mine looked like, and what the dangers of not taking it out when it was staging a coup would be. He showed me pictures and talked to me like I was an intelligent human being; he made me feel like we were a team and together we could fix this. He also has a pretty dry sense of humor which always puts me at ease. 

So we set a date and I showed up to the hospital pretty nervous. The nurses made fun of me because I had had brain surgery but was scared of a little ol’ gallbladder surgery. They put my mind at ease though as most of my nurses that morning had gone to Dr Nguyen for their surgeries. This made me feel better because nurses don’t go go bad doctors. They know who to go see. 

That day, I learned more about Dr Nguyen, like he teaches math. If you want to impress me, that’s the way to go. I get along well with science and math brained people. We talked about that for a few minutes, then they took me back. 

My gallbladder was apparently all packed up and heading for the exit in its own. He told his nurses when he saw it and the blockage I had, “she was just talking to me! She didn’t say she had any pain!” Doug told him he didn’t think I would notice if I was in more pain.  Haha  I told him at my post op “I told you I’m a badass……” 

He also took that little nub off my belly button. The one I’ve had a weird relationship with all my life…. He said he thought it looked bad and may have been precancerous, so he took it off. 

Not only was he taking care of my gallbladder, he was keeping an eye out for me. He saw something that looked off, and he took care of it. That speaks volumes. Several days went by, and I had a question so I called up his office. It was after hours so I figured I would get the on call nurse. Nope. I got him. Not a “we will have someone call you back” but an “ok hold the line while we connect you” he answered my questions and fixed the issue I was having right then. 

Cut to several weeks later and we get a bill from the hospital that has a mistake on it. I called his office and they took care of it. Not “ok, here’s what you need to do…” But he went to the hospital himself to straighten everything out, then called me to tell me he talked to them. Is this guy for real?  

It is so refreshing to see a doctor go above and beyond these days. It’s even better when this doctor is also a damn good doctor, respected by the nursing staff, and liked by everyone up there, and he treats me like a person with a brain. I’m taking a good look at myself to see what he can take out next! 

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Heartbroken

I lost a very dear friend to cancer yesterday. I knew it was coming, and I knew he was in a bad way, but in my heart I think I wanted him to beat this so badly that I convinced myself he could. He didn’t. 

Harold was one of the first friends I ever remember making. Our last names always put us together in class, in line, where ever. In first grade, anytime we lined up for anything there was this little kid, knee high to a grasshopper, cracking himself up by calling me every “fart” name he could think of. I’d like to say that at a young age I was a lady and didn’t respond to such things, but I did. He cracked me up. I knew his home life was a bit rough, but I didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer anything up. I knew I missed him on the days he was gone. 

Years passed and we remained friends. Always friends no matter what. Eventually he opened up about his family a little and we trusted each other more and more as the time passed. Harold developed a crush on me, and for some reason put me high on a pedestal that I never deserved to be on. We never dated, though he was sure persistent, but instead remained tight in our friendship. I never wanted to lose that friendship we had because I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. 

Harold was bullied, and  I was always fiercely protective over him, no one dared say anything derogatory about him around me. I had a couple friends that would insinuate that he was inappropriate in the way he would play with my hair when he sat behind me in class, or how he was always around, but I shut them down. My loyalty was always to our friendship and there was nothing inappropriate ever. He was persistent, like I said, but never uncomfortable. When your friendship starts out over fart jokes, can you ever REALLY be appropriate? 

Then he got sick.

 I never believed in treating him different because he was sick, in fact, I think it was comforting to him that I never treated him like he was going to break. There were some jerks who bullied him even more so because of this, which just added to his rough life. I stood up to them when I knew about it, but Harold was proud and much like his rough home life, he never let on. He went into the hospital to get a colostomy bag, not a fun thing for anyone, let alone a teenage boy, but he never let on that anything bothered him. 

I went to visit him in the hospital and he happened to be in the same hospital that my dad had died in and on the same floor. It took every ounce of courage to go see him up there, but I had to. I still missed him on the days he was gone. 

Time went by and we lost touch for a few years. He got married, I got married, and as it turns out our paths nearly crossed many times in those lost years until one day I found him on face book. I searched, I stalked his old high school friends, and one day I found him. It was like nothing had changed except we were both married with kids. 

Then he got even more sick. This time it was cancer and it was bad. Stage three at first and then stage four. We talked a lot, nearly every day, about everything. Well almost everything. There was one subject we never broached.  He always had a good attitude and we joked about how our spouses should lemon law us both. He was so sick, yet always checked on me about my health, to see how I was feeling. We joked about how his friends who always posted uplifting comments and said how much they were praying for him must think I’m the unseemly one this time with my smart assed comments and crude jokes. We talked about his wife and daughter and how familiar their scenario was. I told him how I remember my mother taking care of my dad, my brother and I, and the company they started, but I always stopped short of how she had to pick up the pieces to carry on after he died. 
I had hopes of seeing him this weekend. We were going to be passing through town, but I couldn’t get ahold of him. It had been a few days and I was worried. It was not like him to not respond to me. I knew something was up. 

Right now my heart breaks for his family. You are not supposed to lose your husband while you’re still raising your children. You shouldn’t have to raise a young child alone, and your parents are supposed to be there to shape your formative years. I know better though. I know that as the little girl grows up, she will wonder what her dad thinks of not only her life choices, but the state of the world itself. I know the hole that will always be there and even though she will grow up and go on to have a happy life, in high school, college and eventually have a family of her own he will always be there. Her memories of her dad will fade, but hopefully she will remember who he was as a person, and what values he held dear. She will remember his humor and, like me, she will miss him on these days that he’s gone. 

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A Little Expansion

 When I started this blog it was to be about traveling and food, then it became more about food and a little of my personal opinions on humanity, (sorry about that) and now, because I’m the Madonna of food blogs, I’m reinventing myself again. Only instead of trying to fool myself into believing that I’m still 20, I’m trying to fool myself that I’m a gardener. 

Growing up, my mother always planted flower beds and a few tomato plants but I was never interested. In fact, I was far from it. I could never understand why anyone would want to be outside working up a sweat, when they could be inside watching TV. She always told me it’s her therapy, and I never understood until now. 

I finally get it…. Sort of. My mom makes flowing flower beds and plants native plants to enjoy while sitting outside. I get excited about timing when to plant okra and if I should give strawberries a go this year. She sinks a broken pot to make it look like flowers are tumbling out…. I sink a garbage can with holes drilled into it so I can compost my kitchen scraps. It’s basically the same thing. 

  
I rely on my farmer to grow most of my produce, and I still will, but now I have a bigger yard and can play more. I’ve tried to grow several things in the past, with no luck and with some luck, but now I can try many things at once! 

Studies show that people who spend time among plants have lower blood pressure …. Unless you get a squash bug infestation. I don’t have high blood pressure, but I do have anxiety, and I’m hopeful that focusing my attention on plants, being outside, and getting some exercise will help me with that. Plus, I’ll get tomatoes….. And zucchini, and bell peppers, and okra, oh and blueberries!  

  
Lucy is back there stalking my blueberry bush. Not for the berries, but for the fertilizer. I use a nasty bottle of compressed and liquified fish. It’s gross and not something you want to get on you, but she licks it up, then sticks her tongue in the baby’s mouth. …. Excuse me while I hurl. 

You are also seeing the herb garden the hubs made me. 

  
This has been a joint effort so far with Doug doing the lion’s share so far. He’s built the herb garden, built the beds, hauled the dirt, planted the trees, dug the holes for the compost bins, and it’s all for vegetables that I make him eat against his will. My mom has also helped; I had my gallbladder removed and was not allowed to lift anything. She is obviously a glutton for punishment, and had been over every day for two weeks to help me take care of the kids.  She also spread the dirt in three of the beds, lots of dirt, heavy dirt,  because I can’t lift anything over 10 lbs. 

So as of right now I have tomatoes, bell peppers, zukes, cukes, green beans, herbs, blueberries, plums and some kind of orange tree planted. I have several beds and endless options ahead of me. All I need is good dirt to fill in my other three beds! 

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Tasty Pups

  
When I was working, I would drive home every day through the stockyards and just north of there was a sketchy part of town with bars on the windows, predatory loan businesses on every corner and all the signs were in Spanish. As a white girl who grew up in an upper middle class town, this said one thing to me: the food around here is probably pretty good. (What? Not what you think of?) 

There was one place in particular that always caught my eye. There was just a sign over the door that said “Pupuseria” and I had no idea what it was, but I wanted it. I asked around and none of my mexican friends knew what it was so I had to do a little digging. This was also during a time when I had given up wheat the first time, so I was ecstatic when, on a gluten free blog, I discovered that these are a South American dish, made from masa, and it’s basically a stuffed tortilla. I HAD to try one, but there was still a barrier between me and the Pupuseria: language. My biggest regret in life is not learning more languages. I wanted to talk to these guys, ask questions, but I wasn’t able to, so instead I read as much as I could on the pupusa. I tried making them, but it didn’t work that well, so I forgot about them. 

Cut to me in culinary school and I had to prepare a Latin dish. I figured “what the hell?” and gave them another shot. My instructor thought I was crazy, but that it was kinda cool, this was neither the first time nor the last time he would feel this way about something I was doing.  Anyway, it worked out pretty well this time. It’s almost as if I knew what I was doing.  

I’ve tinkered with them over the years off and on, and to be honest, I don’t always remember them when I’m trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Though I should. And you should too. 

Here’s what you’ll need:

2 Chicken Breasts

4 Limes

4 cups Masa Harina

2 cups Cheese shredded

Salt

Onion Powder

Garlic Powder

Cumin

Butter

Preheat Oven to 350
Chicken:

Sprinkle: Salt, Onion Powder, Garlic Powder, Cumin over top of chicken in a casserole dish

Cover the dish, cook for about 45 minutes or until chicken is done
Masa: Follow package instructions, plus 2 limes, juice and zest, extra salt if desired

While dough is resting, shred/pull chicken, and shred cheese. 

  
Form dough into slightly larger than golf ball sized balls.

Stick thumb into ball to create a well.

   
 Place chicken and cheese into well.

  
Pinch dough closed over the chicken and cheese to seal the chicken and

cheese in.

  
Flatten the ball

Melt tablespoon of butter over medium high heat in a skillet.

Fray two flattened balls at a time, 2-3 minutes on each side until crispy.

Let cool.

Serve with your favorite toppings such as Guacomole, and salsa.

  
You could stuff these with anything g really, left over taco meat, chili, sautéed veggies, whatever your heart desires. They also reheat quite well too. 

The next time you’re wanting to make tacos, try these. It’s just a little bit more work )unless you’re making your own tortillas, then it’s less work)but worth the effort, and you’ll save the effort later when you stick these in your lunch the next morning. 

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I Can’t Take it Anymore

This country used to be great, and it still is, but there is so much partisan bs that we don’t do anything but fight. We say we are tired of it, yet we STILL allow it to go on, we participate in it too, don’t be fooled. We want all the bs to stop, but we want the other side to magically come to our side. In fact, what we REALLY want is for them to suddenly sit up, open their eyes and yell loudly “I can’t believe how stupid I was!!!” Then proceed to tell everyone who thought that way how stupid they are. We used to agree to disagree and move on about our way, but insecurities got the better of us and we stopped. We needed everyone to agree with us and thus began the spread of false information. This conveniently came about the time the Internet started to take off. No one stopped anyone either, claiming its not seditious libel because it’s classified as entertainment or satire, but in reality, it IS sedition. We started spreading fear and propaganda over facts, then we created fake news sites to make our claims seem legit. And the saddest part of all…. The masses followed. They not only believed it, they spread it. Soon we have Facebook and now, that cheerleader from high school read an article somewhere that said Michele Obama gave Texas to China, and now she has proof! It’s on the Internet, and they can’t put anything on the Internet that isn’t true! Now we have slinging “news” articles back and forth and people ending friendships over things that are not even true and our country is getting ripped to shreds. I can spot a fake news story a mile away and while I love a good “stupid criminal” fake story, the dangerous ones are the ones people believe. 

“But there was a video!”, “I saw a picture!!” Yes, and I can make pictures like that too, I know of at least thirty people who can also fake a picture and video. This is a huge pet peeve of mine. Otherwise intelligent people reading something from a “news site” that they read all the time so it HAS to be true. Here is an idea, don’t believe all the “the media doesn’t want you to see this” because the media saw it, investigated it, and found it to be false. There are also places like Snopes and the good old fashioned AP where you can pretty much verify what you read. 

I propose this…. Instead of finger pointing, name calling, and believing all the false crap that we read, let’s step back…. Try to see where these are coming from and WHY they are printing them. What is in it for the publication? Then, maybe, just maybe, we can stop losing friendships that we’ve had forever, we can still look at each other as the people we’ve known forever and not some “heartless monster”, “sheep”, or “bleeding heart”. 

Neither side is perfect, and neither side is 100% right, but what made this country special was our ability to have two opposing views come together and make something that works. We have been reduced to the country equivalent of The View. 

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Home slushy

  
My little guy loves a slushy from Sonic, and really, who DOESN’T?  I mean, they are delicious, and you can get them in so many flavors. They have a lot of sugar though.  I believe the actual amount is labeled “a crap ton”. I worked at sonic in high school and remember making them, I won’t go into how they were mixed in a large garbage with eight bags of sugar and you had to stick your arm in up to your armpit to stir it.  They don’t do that anymore I don’t think. And if they do….. It hasn’t deterred me one bit from them.  There is nothing better on a hot summer day than a watermelon slushy. Or cherry.

My little guy has figured out that whatever he wants to eat, I can make. It’s both flattering and exhausting, but the challenges are fun. I’ve made Lego gummies, s’mores with fondant instead of a marshmallow (this actually worked really well) a cake in the shape of a lion for “international lion day”. This proved that I can make it, but I can’t really make it pretty, when I showed it to my mom and she asked if my four year old frosted it. 

It was only a matter of time until I was asked to make a slushy. 

I broke down what it was, (sugar, water, coloring, and flavor) so why not? I just needed to freeze it. Then it dawned on me, the ice cream maker!

So I started with a simple syrup:

  
Added some color and flavor:

  
Then let it cool: (I wanted to keep dust out of it)

  
 After this cooled some, I poured it into a container and stuck it in the fridge until it was time to freeze. 

   
 
I went on about my night doing dishes, etc and honestly I wasn’t holding out too much hope until I peeked in and saw that it was working. And working well! Go figure! 

I will say this, I made strawberry flavored by using the flavoring for hard candy, and just a regular simple syrup, but it was sweet. Really sweet. Like, there is no way I’m letting anyone eat this, sweet. I added a little water, lemon juice and a tad bit of salt. It was still too sweet. It tastes good, but it needed more water before I could let anyone eat a whole cup full, but it was already frozen by then. 

So I made one, let every one have two bites, and got rid of it. Next time, less sugar, 

  
But it worked!  If you want to make a slush or a frozen margarita…. Keep your ice cream maker handy. It does more than ice cream. 

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My New Toy

 
I have been intrigued with air fryers for a while, and when a friend told me how much she loved the one she bought, I was sold. I just needed to figure out where to store it. I’m running out of room in my kitchen. 

I bought the Big Boss because I got a good deal, and I could see the food cooking in it. I’m not going to lie, that weighed in my decision making.  I wanted to see what was going on. 

The first thing I made was teriyaki chicken thighs. The recipe was in the book that it came with and I try to do things by the book so to speak, before I play. The marinade was soy sauce, (or tamari for us GF folks)  honey,  garlic and ginger. Simple enough… It said to cook on the bottom rack, though I had too many, so I used both racks. 

 
Because of the sugar in the honey and the closeness to the heat source, the sugar burned, I swapped them out halfway through the cooking process. 

   

 

Because of this, I was not able to check the crispiness of  the skin, but that was my fault. 

Next up I found some sweet potato fries in the freezer. These came out perfect. Not mushy like they can be from the oven. I’ll try fresh cut fries in the near future. 

  
Even my ever skeptical husband was impressed, but next came the clean up. Which was basically two wire racks, a mesh pan, and a giant glass bowl. I hate washing mesh and wire racks. So much more surface area, so many more nooks and crannies. It wasn’t to bad though. I got them cleaned pretty quickly, and basically I just wash the big glass bowl (and worry that I will drop and break it) then I use it as a big basin to wash all the other stuff.  

The next day I was like a little kid, looking for things to cook in it. I made a pork roast, corn on the cob, avocado fries, roasted asparagus, and heated up a frozen pizza in it.  All of them turned out great except the frozen pizza, but that is hardly the fryer’s fault. 

As someone with a high maintenance baby, an almost four year old, and someone who doesn’t always feel great, I don’t always remember to get something out to thaw in the morning, and if I do, it’s wishful thinking because cooking is a luxury these days. If the stars align when the kids both nap in the afternoon, haven’t whooped me down, and I feel good all at the same time, AND I remembered to thaw something…. I should buy a lottery ticket.  With this, I can pull a frozen roast out, rub it with salt, and throw it in there to be done in 90 minutes. Now it’s not fall off the bone tender, but it’s not shoe leather either. Plus, it browns the outside as if you were cooking it on the stove. I have a lot more experimenting to do, I’ve read that taking a frozen steak, browning it with a torch or some other high heat, then baking it will give an extremely tender steak. I want to try that in this. I also want to bake with it. I want to make donuts, turnovers, maybe a cake in it. I’m glad I bought it, and can’t wait to experiment more with it!  

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I don’t care if my kids do well….

  

(This applies to these two yahoos as well)

I truly don’t. If my kids want to grow up and have average jobs and live a life in the rut of mediocrity, that’s just fine with me. If they are happy, I’m good with that. They don’t have to do great things, as long as they do good things. My job as a parent isn’t to get them into a top school, or get them to land that once in a lifetime job, if that is what my kids want, then that is their job to reach for those things. My job as a parent is to teach my kids love, compassion, fairness, and how to do good. If they do well too, that’s up to them. 

You can have all the intelligence and money in the world, but if you’re not a good person, then you’re kind of a waste. Now don’t get me wrong, they are both smarter than your average bear, and my son knows it. I think he may fall into the “gifted underachiever” category that he is genetically predisposed to.  He is a human sponge, always learning and picking up on things, but when you ask him something straight out that you and he both know that he knows the answer to, he pretends to not know. He plays dumb or makes up an answer he thinks is funny. As frustrating as this is, it’s ok. My success does not rely on his brains. I will consider my job a success if he thinks of others. If he sees a classmate hungry so he buys him lunch that day. If he sees someone in need and he helps them out. If my kids think of others, I don’t care if they go to Oxford or Whataburger university. 

There is so much going on in the world now, it truly is a small world. You can no longer turn a blind eye to things that don’t affect you. I recently read where a student was planning on making a bomb to take to my former high school. A school where some of my friends’ kids go. It knocked the wind out of me to think this could happen where I grew up. I was so glad to see that his friends stopped him, not by trying to tackle it themselves, but knowing when something was beyond their capacity and alerting the right people. These kids are heroes, and I hope mine can learn from them. Did anyone, even once, ask what kind of grades these kids being home? No, they were too busy thanking them. 

We put a lot of pressure on our kids to succeed, but is anyone teaching manners anymore?  Or common sense -don’t get me started there. We have the world at our fingertips, the answer to any question we can think of, but are we losing the connections that make us human?  We don’t treat each other like people anymore. In the quest for perfection and the right college application, we have thrown out common decency and manners. It’s easy to do with a phone full of “friends” and “followers” whom we never actually see face to face. 

  

Feelings are an afterthought in this world, and I hope, our kids rebel against us. I hope they see that their mom has posted over a thousand pictures of them on Facebook before they even turned one, and yearn for privacy. I hope they reject the technology that numbs them and reach for actual interactions and compassion that were the first things abandoned when we were shuttling kids to all the activities they need as preschoolers to get into an Ivy League school. 

I will never be impressed by what school your kids get into, it doesn’t matter. I will, however, be highly impressed to watch you teach your son to give your seats at a funeral so an older lady can sit and say goodbye to her friend. In the end, when it comes to your own funeral, what do you think will matter, how much money you made? Or how you treated the people in your life?  

I promise I’ll get back to cooking soon, there are just a few things I need to get off my chest as I’m up in the early morning hours with the baby…

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