We ain't afraid of no goats.

All is right in this baseball fan family.  Cubs are going to the World Series and we are HAPPY about that.  I remember my grandfather rooting the Cubs on from his recliner in Lake Station, Indiana (formerly East Gary) and my dad picking up that flag.  Now, here we are, playing in October and the series starts tonight.

 

We had a big time over the weekend with our annual chili party falling on the same night as the final game of the playoffs.  We yelled, we screamed, we gave high fives and even sprayed the room with champagne…which I then had to explain to my buddy the contractor on Monday morning as he checked his drywall mud.  Um, see, it’s like this…

There’s a big fan base over here on my side of the great lake.  We’ll be gathering nightly for the games and sharing laughs and cheers.  We are looking forward to some big evenings, for sure.  The neat thing about being in a large family is there are always people around if you want them to be.  Your own kids can’t be here? Grab on to a niece or a nephew, or a brother or cousin, even a neighbor from down the street…there’s no need to be alone, to paraphrase Jimi Hendrix.  With our own kids in other towns, we tend to cling to a niece, nephew or other family for shared homeowner work and social escapes.  Nothing like having your own around, though, which we did this weekend.  Although not quite everyone, having the kids in town is a blast.

Five grandkids, which is small in number compared to some, and a lot compared to others, and each as sweet as they could be, my 4-year-old grandsons calling each other “best buddy”.  It’s fun to see the family combine in their smiles and expressions.  One grandson looks like my son, his uncle, at times.  Other times he looks just like his dad, and shares his personality.   Another grandson, who I declare looks like his mom, my daughter, is declared the spitting image of her youngest boy by the other grandmother.   And, we’re both right.  My blonde girl’s youth is displayed on her little girl’s face…right down to the need for braces, and her musicality.

Yes, I love the weaving of families together, I love the small world stories and I love the gathering of family under one roof, and under the stars, around a bonfire or around a television.   Whether across the miles or as close as next door, I love to gather together, in heart or in person.  It was a bit hard to be the observer this weekend as there was much to shout about, but, enjoying the family, and some really good chili, was about as good as it can get..especially with a Cubs win.

Skip over the parts you don't like.

Many of you may be wondering, as am I, when our renovation project is going to be complete.  There are days when I think the answer may be “uh, never”, but, all good things come in time and this project is becoming good, maybe even great.  Another couple weeks and we will at least be closed in for the upcoming chilly fall and winter…siding remains the question of the year.  “What color again?” followed by “Have you ordered that yet?” are the big conversations going on around here.

Don't even get started on the kitchen.  Oh, it will get done, but, it’s going to be a few more weeks before we get there.  Last week was a complete overhaul of the flooring decision…for the second time.  Now settled on an “engineered hardwood” instead of real hardwood, we can begin to think about that kitchen layout AGAIN and make the tough call on what Cindi gets to keep and what Cindi has to lose.

Just this morning I read an article on how to decorate a mantle for Halloween and squealed thinking about how next year, (yes I hoped it would be this year, but guess not) I would be decorating a mantle for Halloween! However, the ideas I have going on in my head for decorating the porch of the shed would make even a ghoul quiver. 

 

Folks, I am not a political person.  Have been on the fringes of politics and been in political situations a few times, times when jobs are more political than they seem or should be, if you know what I mean.  You know, I have weighed the “political answer” many times before speaking and regretted not weighing the political answer many times before speaking.  Because I am not a party politician or person behind the scenes, or with my name on any ballot, I tried to learn as much as I could about the inner workings of politics and elections….not the party stuff but more, how does this machine all work?  I like to understand what it’s about from the bottom up. I asked a lot of questions.  My favorite thing at election time is to visit the courthouse and watch the ballot boxes come in.  Why not? It’s my courthouse! It’s my election, I want to see what’s going on.  It’s a lot less modern that what you may think, let me tell you.  

 

So, here’s what I know.  I am disappointed and disgruntled and confused, too.  But, and this is big…don’t stay home on November 8.  Your vote for president is less impactful in your day to day than your vote for your local offices.  Don’t cast a vote for president if you feel you can’t, but vote for your school board members, your senator and representative…whoever is on your ballot where you live, please, vote in your local and state elections.  THIS is where you find your voice, this is where you have connection and can be made to feel victorious, heard, understood.  For goodness sakes, don’t throw out the baby with the bath water, as the old saying goes.  You want to feel like you are heard? Vote for your representative, your senator, your county commissioner, your judge...however those offices look for you where you live, vote for your candidate (and yes that means not your party).

So, think it over, talk to some folks, read up on some things and go to your polls on that Tuesday.   

Yoga pants and pot roast.

I am not declaring any kind of independence, but, I do hold these truths to be self-evident: that a petite woman in her 60s can never own too many pairs of black, legging yoga pant type things.  Or, at least, that’s what my laundry pile spoke this morning.  It’s funny, last week I couldn’t lay my hands on a pair of black yoga pant things and this morning, they are everywhere.  I had no idea I owned so many, and really, let’s face it, some would say I have no business owning any.

Oh well, not out to make any impressions on folks, so stretchy legging yoga type pants it is..again.

Can I be honest and share a pet peeve? I mean, this one is right at the top of my pet peeve list.

When perusing the internet this morning through some recipe sites, I came across a crock pot recipe.  Sounds delicious, easy and something hubs would go for.  Now, since I am in the middle of construction around here and have zero if any counter space for food prep, the crock pot comes in pretty handy…until the dust starts to fly.  Then nothing is handy and cooking involves heating up the car engine to go get a pizza or a hamburger.   Anyway, my pet peeve comes in the comments posted below most recipes.  They irritate me.

Case in point, recipe for a simmered roast and calls for mayonnaise, butter, apple cider vinegar some herbs, that kind of thing, and the roast.  Author of the column states it’s delicious and so on.  The comments such as “this was delicious! I substituted blah, blah, blah and instead of blank, I used blanket blank blank.  Then I ….”.  That’s where I go off track.

No.  That is not the recipe.  That is not the post, you are not the author of the article, you are not a chef or a food critic.  What you are reviewing is nowhere near the recipe that was published, so please, stop.   Write your own article, create your own recipe and submit it to a panel of judges to be published in some great spot, like this morning’s post, for example, the New York Times.

This is when I need to breathe.  To take a step back and say to myself “Hey, try the posted recipe, let them try it, tweak it, turn it…it’s okay.” Maybe readers enjoy seeing what others have to say about changing the recipe.  Maybe you are too literal,  Cindi Lou,  and need to take a time out.  Yeah, put on your stretchy yoga pants and take a breath. 

It's a small, small, small, small world.

Recovering a bit these last few days from a broken heart, and trying to be the best support to my husband who lost his brother, a great friend, our neighbor…So many memories with this guy and a great sense of loss, as I touched on last week.  I will forever have etched in my memory the silhouette of these two, down by the fire, sitting on a bench exchanging solutions for the day’s problems or celebrating the day’s events.

So the blog world has become a repository, of sorts, for those feelings of loss, the expression of sorrow and I thank you for allowing me to go there with you for a while.

The funeral of my brother-in-law brought some old friends to town…my husband’s best friends from his childhood.  We are in a small town, relatively speaking, so it is no surprise that my brother-in-law’s wife had a younger brother, too ~ one who became my husband’s best friend while growing up.  Many people are interwoven in our town, with family becoming best friend, or the best friend of a family member becoming like your own.  We are simple, and complex.

 

Those who attended my Sunday School class or the youth group I helped lead may remember that I love stories of people woven together through a common thread, or their common experience, relationship or history.  I love when I meet someone and they say “Hey, wait a second…” or one my children tell me they “met someone who…” It makes me feel so connected, and warm.

Like recently we and discovered our friendly electrician’s wife works at the dentist office my husband visits. During an appointment she shared vacation plans as they had just returned from a visit to Seattle, where our son lives.  She said they stopped in to visit the son of their friend, who is in a band with her husband (because what middle aged electrician doesn’t play in a cover band?)  Now, my son and his wife love to share their home, live almost communally.  So, yes, they stopped in to visit my son’s roommate.  There is absolutely no reason these people should be in my son’s home…other than through the relationship, and while my town is small, it’s not THAT small.  However, I am reminded everyday that our world is small and I love those small world stories.

Of course, it’s even more special when it reaches across many miles, many generations.  Because I did move around so much as a kid I didn’t get the opportunity to learn much about my neighbors and playmates, so few small world stories in my personal history from childhood, and may be why I like hearing them so much now.  Kids (and adults) in a small town, where they are related to almost everyone, or have known their classmates since kindergarten, don’t fully appreciate, perhaps, how small the world is, how closely we are woven together;  that you must talk with someone, open up a bit about yourself and your history, to really experience how small the world can be, not online, not through Facebook, not in passing, but really interact.  Learn about your neighbor, help your neighbor…love your neighbor.