National Coffee Day

I've already confessed my love of doughnuts, so it might not come as a surprise to learn I'm also a coffee lover (as is my husband, which is one thing I love about him).  Not that we need a day to celebrate, but today is National Coffee Day so I'm off to Krispy Kreme to get my free 12 oz. cup.  

State Fair

The State Fair by artist Dahlia Woods

The Texas State Fair, the largest state fair in the United States, opens today.  Over the next 24 days, almost 3 million people will pass through the entrance of Fair Park, to experience the midway, eat a [Fletcher's] "corny" dog (delicious I  might add and I was skeptical), see the auto show (the only state fair with that feature) and ride the largest ferris wheel in North America.  

Presiding over it all is Big Tex, the sixty-year-old, 52 foot tall symbol of the fair.  His hinged jaw moves and announcements about the fair seemingly come from him (reminders to not miss the auto show, for example).  It's like Gulliver's Travels meets some sort of weird ventriloquist act.  In my opinion, it's a little bit (okay, maybe a lot) creepy, but people seem to love it (him).   

Last year, our family made our first ever trek to the State Fair (on what was no doubt the hottest Saturday, on record, in any October, ever, in Texas). We're going to try to take our cue from the weather man this year and attempt a visit on a cooler day.  Believe it or not, many local schools and some businesses give their students/employees a day off (my husband's company gives every employee 1/2 day off and two free tickets) during the fair so that everyone can attend. This year my son's school says October 8th is Fair Day.

One hundred and twenty six years of Texas tradition - the Texas State Fair is not to be missed.  

Postscript: On the morning of October 19th, just two days after our family made a Wednesday evening pilgrimage to the Fair, Big Tex burned to the ground as the result of an electrical fire. Despite the comments above, I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.  Tex's demise prompted much sadness as well as the funny refrain "Tex is toast."  Fair organizers are promising to rebuild the Fair's iconic symbol.

Trouble

About 8 weeks old.  You can see how we were deceived by that sweet face.

"Trouble.  That's what her name should be," said my sister.  And it would be appropriate too, except her name is Brownie (and no, your eyes aren't deceiving you, she's not brown). Today is her birthday and she is 5.  Which means she'll, no doubt, do some of this

Asleep on the ottoman.

and probably a little of this

Resting on the sofa.

and she'll definitely do this

Yes.  Asleep, on the back of the sofa, front paws outstretched.  

B.F.'s Birthday

Today is my dad's birthday.  He's 78!  

Born at home in Star, NC, sometimes called "Twinkle Town" (at least by the members of our family), the doctor wrote "Billy", rather than my grandparents' intended "William", on his birth certificate.  He's been known as Billy since, though almost always signs his name B.F. (Franklin).  

In a Popeye suit with a Popeye doll!  

My dad moved with his parents and older sister to Newport News, Virginia when he was 5.  Raised by hardworking parents in tough times, he was athletic (football and baseball) 

That's him, number 16, front row, right.  

and industrious (paper route stories abound) and well-liked (voted Best-All-Around in high school).  He married my mom (a classmate a few year younger) just a couple years out of high school and served in the Army in the late 50's stationed in Germany.  When he returned, he resumed a job working for the local telephone company (did me proud when he put his install skills to use connecting all the girls' phones on my hall my second year in college).  

Father of the bride. 

He helped raise 4 kids and worked long and hard (overtime when and where it was offered).  And, he's smart, I might add. He made his way to and up the corporate ladder and is a true American success story, though I doubt he ever thinks of himself that way.  I'm proud of him and what he's accomplished. 

With his mom in 1997.  He was the "apple of her eye" but his temperment is more
like his own dad's, who was referred to, interestingly enough, as H.F. 

My kids call him "Pop"

I wrote a post back in February about my dad, but didn't want his day to pass without acknowledging the loving and sentimental husband, father and grandfather he is today.  Happy Birthday, Dad!  

XXX Olympics

The summer Olympics begin in less than a week and we're looking forward to it at our house. For as long as I can remember  I've loved the Olympics. Winter Olympics are great, but, to me, the summer  Olympics are even more awesome.

I remember, going way back to 1976 now, Nadia Comaneci's perfect 10 inspiring a whole generation of young girls' (me included) interest in gymnastics (dang, those uneven parallel bars are tough). I still love the gymnastics events. Track and field and swimming have our complete attention, too.  

In 1996, the Olympics took place in Atlanta. Most of the sports were practically in our own back yard. Granted, it wasn't the most illustrious of Olympic host cities, but we had the good fortune of attending several events.  My parents even made the trip to attend a few.  

Our ticket to a women's basketball event

We found a spot on Peachtree Street and watched the Olympic torch pass.

We attended the men's marathon (no ticket required)

At the marathon, someone allowed us to hold their Olympic torch.  I was 4 months pregnant and had a bad case of poison ivy (on my face!)

Some neighbor friends of our hosted a party for one of the visiting men's gymnastics teams (Romania?).  They were nice guys but spoke very little English.  One of the team members won the gold medal in the rings event that year - what a thrill it was to watch him win after meeting him in our friends' kitchen just 10 days earlier.   

For the last week of the games, we rented our house to a family from Ohio (a connection we made through Robbie's job).  It was a ton of work getting the house ready but I'd do it again given the opportunity.  

London seems like a great location for the Olympics. Let the games begin!  

Five

Happy Birthday to iPhone!  That's right.  Eighteen hundred and twenty five days ago today, Steve Jobs and those fine folks at Apple brought us the very first iPhone.  I received my first iPhone as a gift shortly after their introduction. Needless to say, I've never looked back.  Now, 3 of the 4 members of our family are converts.  No worries, we're working on my husband and that Blackberry of his is looking more and more inadequate every day. 

Camp

I didn't grow up in a camp-going family.  The economics of it were just not something that worked for us -- in other words, it cost a lot.  Once or twice I went to church camp, which if you're Southern Baptist is like a whole week of Vacation Bible School plus the added "enhancement" of 4-H style dormitory lodging.

When our kids were very little, they went to day camp, mostly with sports themes or dance themes or chess themes or [fill in the blank] theme of their hobby or interest du jour. 

At sport camp at DUMC

I think the backdrop is adorable.  

And they went to VBS at our church too.  Where they had snack time (goldfish crackers served in Dixie cups) and story time (Noah and Moses and Daniel in the Lion’s Den) and craft time (each day's artwork laid in the hallway so as not to be forgotten).  More often than not, I was teaching the X-year -olds in some room down the hall and we finished up in time to head home for lunch.  

 A handprint fish made in VBS.
“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”
~Matthew 4:19

Finally, however, when McKenzie was 10 (practically a senior citizen, I learned, in the summer camp world), we sent her to sleep-away camp for 5 days.  The camp was a magical place, like something in a movie (think Parent Trap - before Lindsay Lohan lost her way), nestled in the mountains of North Carolina. 

See what I mean?  Movie set, right?

From the setting, to the activities, to the counselors, it was everything you'd want and hope for, and she loved it.  

That's her the in the green sweatshirt, second from the right. 

So much so that she went back the next year for 10 days and finally in her third year she went again for 10 days. After that, the camp offered only month-long sessions for teenagers, and that seemed both expensive and lengthy, and thus ended her camp career.  

Now both our kids are slightly introverted and homebodies so it was with great reluctance that we sent our son to camp this past weekend. As we packed, I was reminded how lengthy and unforgiving those supply lists can be ("there's no way this kid needs 10 pairs of underwear for 6 days of camp") but I was comforted by reflecting on our daughter's experience and praying that his would not be all that different. By all accounts, he's at a really great camp, with generations of attendees singing its praises, almost always using phrases like "life-changing."  

So this past Saturday my husband took our son to camp.  Actually, he drove him 3 hours to the bus that took him the additional six and half hours to camp. So yes, it better be good.  And I find myself wondering if he's having a good time.  Does he like it?  Is he making friends?  Was it a mistake to wait so late in his adolescence to thrust him into this kind of overnight experience?  And, as I so often do, as my children get older, I find myself longing for the days of day camp and VBS.