September 7- Auspicious Occasion

Sept. 7th is an important day, in an F2 sort of way. It was, I believe, 47 years ago when my Dad, George T. H. married my Mom,Christie A.R. transforming her into Christie R. H. I, of course, was not present yet, but from the few photos I've seen, they were married in my grandparent's living room, my Dad wearing his West Point uniform, my mother in a pretty, intricate dress and white gloves, a delicate hat perched on her coif. It is interesting to think about your parents as young people. Logic tells you they once were, but experience tells you they know way more than a young person like you ever did... and somehow in time you get the experience that tells you the logic is true.

My parents are still married. It seems to me the closest they came to not staying married was during the years my father spent in the army, post Point, in Vietnam. Uncertain years when a gal could not be secure in seeing her husband again. During those years, along with uncertainty, they had two girls- my elder sisters. My Mom had to make a decision- finish college, or stay at home with the babies. Unsure if she'd see their father walk through the door again, she made the difficult choice of going back to school, leaving her two babies in her parent's care.
But, he did make it home, and out of the U.S. Army. They were apart again at the occasion of my birth, Dad finishing up his Masters of Nuclear Engineering at M.I.T., my mother back at her parent's in Virginia to have help with the first two while having number three. Makes you think what Dad would've done to avoid birth #4 had it ever happened. If I had a younger sibling, my Dad might also have a PhD. 
When I think of what my parents gave me, by being married, I realize I was given a many layered gift. First of all, I am not among the cynical- single or married, who think it isn't really possible to be happily married. And, I understand commitment. 47 years is a long time. Lots of stuff happens in 47 years. Good stuff, not so good stuff. Life has bad. And lots of good. Life means breathing, the rest is what you make of it.

Can-Can Can-doing their way through life..with grandchildren

When I was in Vet School, I was dating a good friend, turned boyfriend. He also had married parents, but they had a different marriage. I don't remember his parents ever really talking, touching, even making eye contact. I think it had been that kind of relationship his entire life. One night we went out on a date and came back to my house afterward. We went to find my parents to tell them I was home and that we were going to hang out in the sunroom on the worlds most uncomfortable antique wicker couch, and watch the little 12" tele. I knocked on the door to my father's library- the door closed, as in that wonderful, old, Connecticut house, you heated each room individually by fireplace. Doors stayed closed. We entered, and my parents were curled up on the couch, spoon fashion, under a warm afghan, watching a movie. They asked how our night went, my date, silent, and we left them to their own evening. My boyfriend was steaming mad. Why? I didn't understand what had gone awry. Upon inquiry, I found his ire was due to me "putting my parents up to that". What??? Cuddling. AS IF I had any control over my parents. Sure. It turned out he thought there was an elaborate plot afoot to make him believe marriage could be enjoyable. My parents held hands- plot. My parents talked to one another-plot. They went off for walks together after dinner -ooooh, nefarious.
Even though we dated for a while longer, I think it was then I realized we'd never be on the same page. My husband was going to believe in magic before I married him.  My parents had not given me a reason to disbelieve.
It is a gift that has allowed me to create a happy marriage with my husband -also a believer.( His parents will celebrate 50 years of finishing each other's sentences next year. )
47 years of marriage yielded three children, all married, to the original spouse. 100 years of marriage combined. Pretty awesome legacy. Congratulations Mom and Dad. Congratulations Stephanie and Devin. Congratulations David and Elizabeth. And to me and mine.

It's All Greek to Me!

For our Labor Day adventure, we drove to the big city! Local friends, who are much better at knowing what is going on outside the fence row, invited us to meet them at the Greek Festival at the Greek Orthodox Church in downtown. Now, I am a fan of Greek food. Facebook friends may recall the creation earlier this year of the Parthenon cake for my eldest's Greek birthday party. Also attending the party were my friends, Moussaka, Spanikopita and Tzatziki. So, I'm always up for excellent Greek food made by someone else! 

15th Birthday, Parthenon Cake

On the other hand, going to a Greek Orthodox Church is like revisiting one of my childhood nightmares. As a young'un, maybe 3,  living in Yorktown Heights, New York, I attended my first wedding. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was looking forward to seeing the magical "Bride". She would be pretty, like a princess; in our house "fairyprincessbridequeen" our favorite dress-up identity. This wedding would be at the Greek Orthodox Church. Here is what I remember about the wedding;
It was a really big open roundish church with very dark wooden pews.
The large, dark piano was inexplicably in the middle of the church, and that was really odd to me.
When the wedding music got started by the woman at the piano, little girls dressed as "fairyprincessbridequeens" walked down the aisle with baskets full of flower petals.
Just as I was about to whisper in my deepest heart that my greatest ambition was to be in a wedding, one of the pretty, curly dark haired little girls in the frilliest white dress I'd ever seen was accosted by a large fat woman in a floral polyester dress and a big mustache. She hauled that little girl right behind the piano, gripping her arm and hollering at her, pulled down her frilly little white ruffled panties and whomped her on the bare bum about 5 times. Then she tugged down the girls dress and pushed her right back into the aisle to proceed as if nothing had happened.
That is all. Horror. Better believe I was quiet and unobtrusive the rest of that day!
No one wanted me to go to a wedding again until I was about 12. That wedding was outdoors in a tent in Connecticut, and not nearly as frightening. Well, it had it's own pitfalls, as I had no idea how powerful champagne was until that night.

Anyway, the closest I'd come to a Greek Orthodox church since that early childhood nightmare was watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding on the tele. And laughing aloud from the safety of adulthood and a couch. And yet, I found myself in Hellenic Heaven on this beautiful, 80 degree midwestern day.
We explored for a bit, then got down to the real reason we were here. Food.
Moussaka, spanikopita, tyropita, thick chunks of super-salty feta, gyros, baklava, kataifi, amygdalopita, melomakaroma- they all sound a bit like cancer diagnoses, but they are all delicious!
Just as we were finishing the last tasty bites, the children of the church began to do traditional dancing.

Woo hoo! (or in Greek: OPA!)

The kids were very cute, and the two little ones in our group wanted to join right in.
Watching all this dancing, made us hungry.
After a nice sampling of sweets, we listened to the Greek choir. Mostly ladies and then one man, and another man on the accordion. Didn't understand a word they said, but when you crow like a rooster in Greek, it sounds just like our American ones.
Only one thing left to do, screw my courage to the sticking spot, and see the cathedral.
Let me tell you, those Greeks aren't afraid of a little bling. We Methodists get nervous around fancy, garish colors, noise, moving, anything that sparkles. Even our felt banners are in careful, muted tones.
Not those Greeks. The pews were comfortable ( a revelation), and the whole sanctuary shined in marble and murano glass murals.51 million tiles of glass.

The top of the sanctuary. That is Jesus, surrounded by 24 of his ancestors, starting with Adam in the east.

We Methodists have a wooden cross to decorate our sanctuary. And, usually some beautiful flowers cut from someone's garden (usually Betty, she's got great flowers).

The Greeks have a whole genealogy of Christ, in glass...not to mention the story of his life and an enormous Virgin with child. You get bored in this church service, and there is a LOT to look at- all of it really shiny.

Way in the back is Mary with boy Jesus on her lap.

Maybe they have Greek Cooties? Mix it up, folks.

So, I'm thinking of bringing some glitter to church on Sunday. Baby steps. And this sanctuary wasn't at all dark, and their wasn't any battering, mustachioed women jumping out into the aisles. Phew.




Thank you to the "Stephenopoulouses" for including us in a really fun afternoon.

Sunday Edition- Pickaway County Fair, Tuesday....redux

This is the second installment of the family's adventure at this year's county fair. Those of you who missed it as an email earlier this summer are getting a chance to follow the week periodically. Those of you who read it already...well, sorry. Or, enjoy again! Monday's account of the Fair was published earlier in this blog. Go back to it if you missed it the first time.

Georgia and Pepa

It is 11 pm on Tuesday night. Tod, Georgia and Hamilton are at the Camper at the Fair, presumably asleep. Madeleine is making a Chrysler Building out of cake. I am writing to you all, and periodically answering the call of "Mom, I need help with this", because I know how to build a Chrysler Building out of cake.

Today was a busy busy busy day. Tuesday is the poultry show, goat show and sheep show at Pickaway County Fair. Georgia had both Poultry and sheep, so we were up and at it early again this morning. The kids all went off to start feeding, watering and cleaning pens, while I stayed back at the camper to tidy up and wait on Tod, who had gone to do home barn chores and had my fair pass... disorganized I am !

Much running around later, a blazing hot turkey show and rainstorm brought us to lunch, and still no turn for G. Now, getting antsy, as the sheep show begins at 3, Georgia's first class was Poultry Showmanship. She is strong in this area, and won the Junior division last year. So, this year she challenged herself and signed up with the older kids. Poultry showmanship is unique, in that it is judged not only on how you show your bird, but on knowledge of the species in general. There are all sorts of questions they are asked from basics, like, parts of the bird to more complicated questions, like, name three breeds with 5 toes on each foot. Answer given by G:" Sumatra, Silkie and Crested polish, but , Mom, Dorkies have that too."

Georgia had a tough class this year, and earned 5th place. But I'm so proud because she pushed herself. She was disappointed, but rallied, as the next contest up was Waterfowl Showmanship. For this she shows her duck, but it also answering questions about the critters. In this category, also one above her age level, she did much better and earned herself First place. She was not disappointed.

( The windows on the Chrysler building are making little points, and causing Madeleine much frustration).

She and I then dashed off to the sheep barns to get Dolores clean. Lambs herded behind, we headed to the wash racks, amid the horses and the goats, and scrubbed any lingering signs of poo off of Dolores' legs, cleaned her ears and made sure the dust was out of her nose. Lambs running off, then yelling, then returning to reach under their ma and bash her udder with their foreheads to get the old girl going for a snack. Repeat. Rush off, bleat, run back, bash, nurse. We then clipped up the edges of Dolores' wool with some nasty looking shears and put her back in her tidied stall. And, back to the Poultry show to collect ducks for the Fancy Duck class. Georgia had a pair of Cuyagas, black ducks. They are quite pretty, but didn't have enough green sheen for the judge, probably due to days spent in the sun. She placed 4th. Slightly disappointed. Then, a quick rush to the poultry barn to switch to chickens .

( The NYC sign coming off the side of the Chrysler Building is having issues)

Georgie leads Dolores, Evelyn and Everest follow

Georgia's chickens are Australorps, another pair of handsome birds, but the Fancy Poultry show at the Fair is one of the most competitive rings we throw our hat. With close to 20 pens of birds, the judge (He masquerades as "Buckeye Santa" at the Ohio State games) started lining them up in the order he was placing them and she nearly got Second! Last minute switch to third by a plucky little bantam pair that edged her out of second, but in all, very pleasing. Quick! A picture, as they are calling the Breeding Sheep to get ready to be called to the main arena. Dad valiantly raced back to the camper to retrieve the sheep show shirt- there is an apparent science behind the shirt selection, but I don't know if it matters in Georgia's case, as her belt buckle is never the right kind. No bling. But she had chosen an electric pink shirt with shiny butterflies or something on it. Like I said, a science. Corraling lambs in an area full of sheep and people is evidently Mom's job, but the cuteness factor of the lambs goes a long way when they are unruly and bumping into folks, and running under the bigger sheep. I think this is also why Hamilton has made it this far. Unfortunately, lambs and little boys grow.....

(Madeleine is now creating a fondant to turn electric green to add to the sign on the Chrysler Building. It turned out more like kelly green.)

Grand Champion Border Leicester Breeding Ewe, with two bits of proof.

Once the sheep show was finished, Madeleine was done with her Junior Fair Board duties of the day, which entailed sitting behind the announcers stand at the sheep show.

We were then due at Cow Chip Bingo. This is a game where you buy a square and then they release a sprightly heifer cow onto the game board and she eventually soils someone's square, and they win money. Our square went unscathed- at least by that cow. Back to the barns to water, and clean pens, scrub Peaches hind end as she has "I'm shut in a stall all day stress poop", and clean animals are mandatory at the Fair!

So, now, the Chrysler Building is done, Madeleine is cleaning up the pink, green, black, grey, and blue, buttercream, fondant and meringue frostings so we can head back to the camper and keep the cake in the air conditioned space so as to prevent meltage. It is past midnight. Another long day at The Fair. Tomorrow is Hamilton and Madeleine's first chance to show projects this year. Hamilton is presenting his Snack Attack! and Madeleine her NYC cake and her NYC Scrapbook. She went on a excellent trip with my parents this spring to the City, and made it her Fair theme too, evidently!

Now, how to get a 26" tall cake into a monster truck at 12:15 am...

The Chrysler Building, post judging, just after Dad played Godzilla on the bottom corner (accidentally!)

Keeping Pace

Second to One!

Georgia and I set off early this morning for Yellow Springs, about an hour and a half away. It is the home to the Boy Scouts of America's Camp Birch. The Camp was the site of a Hunter Pace, and on a chilly midwestern morning, what joy is a pace!

More likely to be full of boys in tents than horses in tack...




A hunter pace, for those who are saying "Wha?" is a rather informal, fun competition. Designed to prepare horses and their riders for the upcoming season of Fox Hunting, Hunter Paces are undertaken by teams of 2 or 3 riders on a set course through woods, fields, streams, jumps, etc. much as you would encounter in a Hunt. The teams are timed, and judged according to how accurately they pace their ride. The courses in this area tend to be between 4 and 7 miles and are ridden at one of three paces. You choose your pace prior to setting out on course. The three paces are:

• Slow, often called "Scenic Cruisers". This is a pace that consists mostly of walking and some trotting.
• Moderate, sometimes termed "Hilltopper". This pace is largely a trot, with some canter.
• Hunt Pace. This is sometimes called "fast" by the uninitiated, but this is the real pace. This is the pace as you would ride when following the hounds in the Hunt. This pace is trotting on hard surfaces (as a road) and pretty much cantering or galloping elsewhere.

The way they set the pace is to have an actual team ride the pace prior to the event. The team is usually made up of a Master of Foxhounds and a Huntsman. In the Hunt world, the Master is boss. Bottom line. They are the head honcho, big cheese, numero uno. The Huntsman is just as important, but in a different way. The Huntsman is the one who controls the hounds. This person is a highly skilled individual who shares a relationship with their tongue lolling, stern flagging, nasal savant charges. When in the field, in all cases you defer to the Master and the Huntsman. Their are other members of staff as well, and you also defer to them, but they listen to these two as well.
For this ride, sponsored by the Miami Valley Hunt (who had their 50th anniversary last year) the Master, Carolyn Uecker, rode all three paces to set the optimum time. The Scenic Cruisers time to match was 45 minutes, the Hilltoppers were 33 minutes and the Hunt Pace was 21 minutes. The tricky bit, is this is a secret until after all the teams have gone and completed the ride. You find out the optimum time only at the awards ceremony.

When I was a kid, I loved to Hunter Pace. As I recall, the rides were much longer, and there were checkpoints during the ride, where you were timed in to the checkpoint, and you had to dismount. You were given a small amount of time for recovery of breath- say, 5 minutes, then you were off again. The more official paces took a pulse and respiration on your mount, and you were not allowed to continue on course until they reached a certain level of control. This could really set you back if your horse was unfit, and put you out on course quickly if your horse was properly conditioned.
 I have not run into this style of pace as an adult, but then again 4-7 miles isn't very far, so the checkpoints might seem a bit overdone.


Georgia and I had a fine time. I had intended to ride Oslo, with Georgia on Peaches, but as I went to get his trailer wraps on his legs, I thought his foot sounds were funny. Investigation revealed a loose shoe. Bummer. Trailer is ready to go, lunch packed, sleep forgone, and no horse. This is when it is truly fine to have a backup plan. Poor Samantha was more or less abandoned as my primary mount when Oslo arrived last spring. She has had all summer to get fat and out of shape. But, easily pressed into service, she was thrilled to step into Oslo's extremely large shoes (not really she is already wearing her own, but metaphorically) So, big black one back into the field, smaller ?colored one onto the trailer. (Samantha's color designation has long been a source of wonder).
We were joined in our trip across the flatlands by friends Vicki and daughter Kara, also enthusiastic pacers. Before we knew it, "5-4-3-2-1! You're off!" and Georgia and I went on course, Vicki and Kara following a few minutes behind. My happy mount set a blistering trot pace for most of the course, with occasional enforced walking. We jumped- albeit not very gracefully the first few times, but give the gal a break, she's been eating, pooping and sleeping for exercise for months! We skipped the Chapel Log fence- a 3'6" whopper with a acute approach and a ditch and hill on the other side- and took the smaller examples instead. We came in at 34minutes 30 seconds. Normally we then clean up our ponies and tack and head home, assuming ribbons are out of our reach, but today, it was so beautiful, not the usual hot and humid, we ate lunch and hung out with the other crazyhorsepeople. I wanted Georgia to get a feel for hunt pace, and also to meet some of the other kids who participate in the sport.
Imagine our (my) whoops and hollers when we placed second in the Hilltopper category! Go Team!!!
To give you an idea of precision, the top 6 teams within the optimum time for the Scenic Cruisers were within 10 minutes of optimum.
For the Hilltoppers, it was 5 minutes of Optimum.
For the Hunt Pacers, within 30 seconds of Optimum.
These Hunters know how to keep pace.

For anyone who'd like to feel what it is like to "be there", youtube has some of the ride videoed by the "HelmetCam" of staff member John M.. He and his teammate Mark  M. were the team "Midnight Cruisers". They placed seventh at 4 minutes 39 seconds too fast!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUDlXWB3HUk
They also have a shorter video of the last two minutes of their ride. In the first few seconds of this video is the hefty "Chapel Log" jump, a 3'6" whopper with a so-so  approach and a even worse landing. Both teammates take the fence. Fun with a helmetcam...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4McFVfRey80&feature=related

Framed Friday

Sunset over the corn....

Naughty Nod

Early morning phone call from dear friend, Mrs. Z. They are generously allowing one of our rams to live with them- you know" too many cooks in the kitchen" ...
Anyhow, Nod is not feeling well! He is off his feed, and feeling down. So, with 11 minutes to spare in my morning, I packed my youngest into the car for the trip down the road, my basket of goodies in tow to see what I could do. His heartbeat was rapid, he was pale and definitely not himself. 6 minutes left. Drench deworm the fella, drench with nutradrench, give probiotics, 6cc vitamin B complex intramuscularly, dash back to car. See bus turning down the road. Chase bus. Goodhearted bus driver stops to collect youngest. Then a rush to get barn chores done and wash up to be in public. Not a Coverall day.
Now, home again for a few minutes before youngest gets back off the bus. We will go check on Nod. I hope to see him up and alert. We will repeat steps 2 and 3, repeat step 4 tomorrow, and then I think in a few days, switch out rams so I can keep a closer eye on him. Cesar used to be the unthrifty one. Now that boy is a big marshmallow. He practically looks pregnant. I think Nod will appreciate a switcheroo for the fall. Plus he'll have to learn how to walk on a lead, come when he's called and maybe, just maybe, he won't see all cleaning tools as enemies to be destroyed.

September.

The month that makes fall happen. Leaves change, College football gears up, time to dig the potatoes, start informal hunt season with the Miami Valley Hounds- tally ho! September- iconic song from Earth, Wind and Fire. September First.
Picture day for my youngest. His school pictures are always wonderful and amusing. Last year he must've put his head under a faucet directly before "Cheese". Head soaked and drippy glasses with an uncomfortable smile. You'd think in the age of digital, they'd be able to tell this isn't a good picture, but I guess technology has not changed the cattle-chute aspect of school pictures. In second grade he sported a preppy tie and sweater vest, in first, a closed mouth smile to hide his missing teeth. This morning I found him in front of the mirror, peeling his lips back in a grimace that made him appear as lip-less feral boy.
 "Practicing for your pictures?" I asked doubtfully.
"Yep."
Oh my. Can't wait to see this one.