The Trials and Triumphs of a Transplant . . .from 'Burgh to Bayou

Andy Warhol

2012-01-31T20:57:00.006-06:00

The latest buzz on Lake Charles' arts scene is the arrival of the Andy Warhol exhibit, "Celebrities," currently at the Imperial Calcasieu Museum, through March 3rd. The show features 15 silk screen prints of some of Warhol's beloved celebrities -- Marilyn Monroe, Jackie Kennedy, Elizabeth Taylor . . . Mick Jagger is my personal favorite. I also enjoyed reading some of Warhol's quotes, interspersed between the prints.

My idea of a good picture is one in focus and of a famous person.

I never think that people die. They just go to department stores.

Wasting money puts you in a real party mood.

It would be very glamorous to be reincarnated as a great big ring on Liz Taylor's finger.

Then he substantiates all the above by saying . . .

I am a deeply superficial person.

And of course there's his most "famous" quote . . .

Everybody will be famous for 15 minutes.

I wonder why he was so fascinated by celebrity?

Pittsburgh is home to the Andy Warhol Museum. Warhol grew up in Pittsburgh. He attended the Carnegie Institute of Technology (now Carnegie Mellon University) in 1949.

Before my family moved Louisiana, I took my sons to the Warhol Museum. For some reason, I most remember the room filled with silver mylar helium balloons which Warhol thought looked like clouds. I also recall the many magazine covers he created. Then there was the room where you had to be 18 or older for admittance. Obviously, the boys and I didn't see that part of the museum.

Pittsburgh readers, have you been to the Warhol? What did you think?

Pillow Talk

2012-01-22T22:18:00.004-06:00

I woke up this morning with a stiff neck. I need a new pillow. I've been using the same pillow for way too many years -- not that I'm attached to it. I've been wanting to get a new one. I just can't find one I like better. Invariably, new pillows are too thick and bulky. But that's the problem with my old one. It's worn out and squashed too thin.

I think there should be a way to be "sized" for proper pillow fit. You know, the way my feet were measured by the patient middle-aged bald-headed man who worked in every shoe store I was ever in as a kid. Pillows should come in more precise sizes than thick, thicker, and thickest. Shouldn't we be able to measure the distance between shoulder and ear and buy a specific size? I don't like my head to be tilted up at an angle. I want my head to be perfectly aligned with my neck and spine. But that's the problem with my current pillow. My pillow is so thin, my head tips down. Hence, the sore neck this morning.

But I'm daunted by the task of pillow shopping. So many choices! Down feather-filled, polyester foam, synthetic foam, latex foam, memory foam. There are pillows for side-sleepers, back-sleepers, stomach-sleepers, and multi-position sleepers. I tend to toss and turn, so I guess that puts me in the multi-position category. And then there's such a wide range of prices; from ten bucks for a two-pack at the JC Penney white sale, to $150.oo or more for the high-end at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. My head spins just thinking about all the options.

So, I'm going pillow shopping this week. Any suggestions? What kind of pillow do you like?

Kayaking the Vermilion

2012-01-15T16:29:00.014-06:00

Have you every surprised yourself and done something you thought you couldn’t do?

Last weekend, I joined some fellow kayakers for a paddle down the Bayou Vermilion from Abbeville to Palmetto Island State Park. I was told it was “approximately nine miles.” I only started kayaking last summer. The farthest I had paddled was around five miles. I was usually sufficiently tired after those five miles. Could I paddle nearly double that? I wasn’t sure. But it was a beautiful winter day and I wanted to get out. My kayak had been in the garage for too long.

The weather was perfect. Warm and very little wind. We headed south with the current. I felt great. A few miles into the trip, someone informed me that, no, this trip was not nine miles, but actually eleven. Maybe nine miles as the crow flies, but not as the river winds. Eleven miles, huh. A niggle of self-doubt crept into my head. Could I do it? By this time, clouds had formed, the wind pushed from the south, and the tide started coming in. We were not only paddling against the wind, but against the current as well.

I paddled on. Prior to the trip, I only knew one other paddler out of our group of fifteen. We were quite a variety of kayakers – the group included a priest and his beagle, a six year old and his dad, two married couples, and an assorted mix of the rest of us. I enjoyed making some new friends. Conversation helps pass the miles. Around mile four we took a lunch break. I had no idea how long the trip would take, and, while I did have a small snack, I was wishing I’d packed more food. One nice guy shared his homemade deer jerky. That helped. Note to self – pack more snacks.

We continued on. At around ten miles I got pretty excited, thinking we were almost done. I felt somewhat tired but was doing alright. When one guy suggested we take a break, I asked, “Why are we taking a break? Aren’t we almost there?” And at that point I learned the park was still three or more miles away. (They know this via these handy GPS gadgets hanging around their necks or on their smartphones.) My heart sunk. At that point, I couldn’t imagine paddling three more miles. But honestly, I didn’t have much choice. I just kept paddling, stroke after stroke, bend after bayou bend.

Finally, after 13.4 miles and five hours of paddling, we arrived at the park! We devoured an apple pie one gal had brought. Then drove back to Abbeville and ate a much-earned dinner at Shuck’s Seafood Restaurant.

If I had known at the outset that the route would be 13+ miles, would I have attempted it? Probably not. But I’m glad I went. I learned I could paddle a whole lot farther than I thought I could. And that’s a good feeling, to accomplish something I thought was out of reach.

Think of something you think you can’t do. Then challenge yourself. Dare yourself. Go out and prove yourself wrong. You’ll be glad you did.

(Thanks to Ian Wright for photos.)

New Year's Day, 2012

2012-01-01T19:10:00.006-06:00

Happy New Year, everyone! We welcomed 2012 by going sailing today. A strong north wind billowed the stay sail and pushed us along at such a clip, there was no need to unfurl the main sail. Maybe it was the nip in the air, but we had the entire lake to ourselves. Back at the marina, we joined some friends for a New Year’s feast of pork, cabbage, black-eyed peas, and red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. I contributed a pan of pierogies, sauerkraut, and kielbasa for some Pittsburgh flair.

It’s so tempting, this time of year, to wonder what the new year holds, to make plans, and resolve positive changes. Nothing wrong with good intentions. But I’ve learned over the course of my life that life is unpredictable. We have goals and we work hard to achieve them. We set a course . . . but what happens when we lose our compass? Are we disheartened and disillusioned when our plans go awry? Sometimes life sends us on an alternate current. Often these course changes are where we discover the most joy and excitement. Possibly the most growth. Can we adapt and ride the waves that come our way, be they ripples or tsunamis? I’m not one much for new year’s resolutions, but if I had to choose one, it would be to strive to be flexible and take one day at a time.

I wish you all a year of thrills, adventures, and new discoveries!

Season's Greetings -- 2011

2011-12-23T12:46:00.025-06:00

Years ago, back in Pittsburgh, I had a Christmas tradition – an annual tree-trimming party. Throughout my childhood, each year my mom would buy me an angel ornament for Christmas. By the time I became an adult and had a tree of my own, it was covered in festive angels. I enjoyed sharing them with my party guests. Now, and at least for the next few years, the angels share the tree with trains, cars, Santas, and other assorted bobbles belonging to my sons.

Even though I no longer have the tree-trimming party, I still enjoy decorating the tree. We bring the Christmas boxes down from the attic. And pull the ornaments out one by one. Seeing the angels again after their year-long confinement feels like greeting old friends. Here are a few of my favorites, all given to me by either Mom or my sisters.

And what’s a Christmas tree without a cat cozily curled beneath the branches. All. Day. Long.

Even after four years here in Louisiana, we’re still trying to establish new family traditions. In an effort to replace Hartwood Acres and our beloved Phipps Conservatory, last night we went to Shangri-La Gardens in nearby Orange, Texas for their “Christmas Stroll.” That wasn’t the fix, but it was nice, nonetheless.

For anyone out there who misses their extended family and faraway friends this holiday season, as I do, know that they are with you in spirit. Call them, wish them a Merry Christmas, and cherish the friends you have who are nearby.

From our family to you and yours, have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

Christmas Jazz Concert

2011-12-18T20:55:00.003-06:00

The boys and I attended a jazzy/bluesy Christmas concert this evening at Central School. (For my readers unfamiliar with Lake Charles, Central School is a historic landmark that was once the high school in town but now is home to the Arts and Humanities Council and the hub of the area's cultural community. The show was hosted by the foundation "Jazz in the Arts" and featured two local musicians, Chester Daigle and saxophonist/McNeese professor Rick Condit. I found out this evening he also plays the flute.

Watch a youtube video of Chester and Rick here.

The musicians played unique renditions of many holiday favorites. Wonderful show. Oh, and we won a door prize. A candle wreath.

Merry Christmas, everyone! How have you been celebrating the holidays?

Lake Charles Civic Ballet presents Rudolph

2011-12-14T16:56:00.007-06:00

I attended Lake Charles Civic Ballet’s production of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer last weekend. One word comes to mind – DELIGHTFUL. The colorful costumes and charming sets really brought the story to life, as did, of course, the wonderful dancers. Scene to scene, the show was pure fun. And a refreshing change from the season’s standard Nutcracker. All the dancers did a great job, but I really enjoyed seeing Gabby Saucier in the spotlight. Hard to believe this talented young lady is only in 8th grade.

Gabby’s sister Addie beautifully danced the role of the Snow Queen.

I’ve seen several productions by this ballet company, and they are all wonderful, but this was my favorite so far. Can’t wait till March 17 to see Sleeping Beauty! Watch the LCCB website for ticket info.

Many thanks to my guest photographer Cameron Durham! Read my post about Cameron on the ballet blog here. Check out Cameron’s awesome photography on his website here.

Lake Charles Christmas Parade

2011-12-03T20:24:00.007-06:00

Louisianians love parades. I guess it’s the Mardi Gras in us. Lake Charles hosted its annual Christmas parade this afternoon. Sam Houston High’s Pride and Spirit Marching Band entertained the throngs lining Lakeshore Drive and Bilbo Street

I’m partial to the tenor sax player second from the left.

Where else but in Louisiana would Santa’s “sleigh” be pulled by ‘gators?

Even dogs enjoy parades in Louisiana.

How does your community celebrate the season?

Shopping on Black Friday

2011-11-25T12:16:00.004-06:00

Anyone who knows me knows I am not a shopper. And I decidedly do not venture out on Black Friday. I don't enjoy shopping and I shun crowds. So avoiding the post-Thanksgiving retail rush goes without saying. But for some reason, prompted by a flyer and coupons in yesterday's paper, I found myself in the mood to go to Books-A-Million this morning. As I drove into town, I did the usual mental prep required to navigate the packed parking lot, endure bumping shoulders, wait in lines, and search for customer service.

Much to my surprise, I found none of that. Parking was easy. No lines in the store. No crowded aisles. Employees eagerly assisted me. I redeemed my Black Friday coupon for a free Joe Muggs coffee without a wait. The young man at the checkout patiently accommodated my requests. I don't know what it says about the future of books and bookstores, but shopping at Books-A-Million was eerily easy this morning.

And best of all, I'm just about finished Christmas shopping!

What did you do on Black Friday?

Larry's Old Time Trade Days -- Winnie, Texas

2011-11-15T16:36:00.006-06:00

What comes to mind when you think of Winnie, Texas? For some, it’s the highway 10 exit that heads south on the way to Galveston. For others, it’s the halfway mark between Lake Charles and Houston, and thus a great place to stop for gas, snacks, and facilities. For me and a great group of friends last Friday, it was home to “Larry’s Old Time Trade Days,” or in other words, a giant flea market. We spent around seven hours looking at more stuff than I ever knew I wanted to see. Loads of antiques, which I love, plenty of jewelry, lawn ornaments . . .

. . . plants, arts and crafts, and odds and ends of pretty much anything you can imagine. And an enticing food court, to boot. It’s a lot of fun, just walking around, looking at stuff, finding bargains – I bought a pair of gloves and reading glasses for a buck each – but exhausting. Despite my most comfy shoes, my feet were killing me by the end of the day.

These pretty hair clips were a big hit with us girls.

Where else can you find taxidermied camo-clad deer driving a jeep? Just what you always wanted, huh.

Have you been to Larry’s or do you have a favorite flea market?

Horse Tales Literacy Project

2011-11-10T19:54:00.005-06:00

I spent the morning at the Stables at LeBocage, hanging out with horses and over 100 first-graders from two local elementary schools. This field trip was part of the Horse Tales Literacy Project, formerly called The Black Stallion Literacy Foundation. (The name had to be changed because when folks googled Black Stallion, a porn site popped up.) This program strives to foster and instill a love of reading in young children through their natural love and curiosity of horses.

The kids seemed to have a great time. They made equestrian-themed crafts, participated in activities like relay races on stick horses, toured the stables, went on a scavenger hunt, and petted and brushed a pony. I had one of the best jobs – working the read-to-a-horse station. I monitored a pretty horse named Sophie while the children took turns reading to her from Walter Farley’s classic book Little Black, A Pony.

Sophie loved listening to the children read. See, doesn’t she look enthralled?

Cameramen from local media were there and I ended up on the five o’clock news. Fun day.

Do you have a favorite horse book?

Lorraine Bridge

2011-11-04T18:21:00.007-05:00

A recent class I took at McNeese University, called Louisiana’s Hidden Places, by local newscaster John Bridges, encouraged me to renew my quest to discover and visit interesting places in this beautiful state. Yesterday I took a road trip to a destination that’s been on my list for several years, the picturesque Lorraine Bridge, near Hayes, Louisiana. Lorraine Bridge spans the Lacassine Bayou and divides Calcasieu and Jeff Davis Parishes. For years, I’ve seen this bridge in paintings and photographs, and longed to go there and see it myself. Indeed, Lorraine Bridge is pretty as a picture.

Spanish moss drapes like silvery dreadlocks from cypress and tupelo trees.

Tiny black frogs hop atop the mud on the banks of the brown-watered bayou. Leaves float along the lazy current.

It’s peaceful, quiet, and serene.

According to a plaque there, Lorraine Bridge was first built in 1900 and has gone through various stages of disrepair and repair, use and disuse. Around 2005, the police jury wanted to tear it down, but some citizens rallied, raised funds, rebuilt the structure, and deemed it an historical landmark.

I was surprised to find a small campground there, a pavilion and picnic tables, and of course, a boat launch. Next time, I’ll take my kayak!

Merle Killinger

2011-10-26T15:49:00.002-05:00

An elderly woman recently died. She was an active cheerful positive pillar of my church community. Her name was Merle Killinger. And I feel bad that she has passed, not only because I’ll miss her. I will. But also because I wanted to get to know her better. And I meant to. I had every intention of doing just that. For months, I had been telling myself that I should visit her, take lunch over to her house and just sit with her awhile, get to know her better, glean all I could from her life experience-earned wisdom. Merle was a writer. A poet. I knew I could learn from her. And I didn’t even realize she was a teacher until I read her obituary. I wanted to spend time with Merle. Keep her company for an hour or two. Maybe make her day and bring a smile to her face while she did the same for me. Merle had recently mailed an anniversary card to Bob and I, and I kept meaning to thank her for it – next time I saw her. Merle had several health issues and was often hospitalized. With each hospital admission, I had wanted to go see her. I told myself I would. I know firsthand how much these visits can mean. I truly intended to go to that hospital and visit her, but . . .

But I never did any of that. Life happened each day and I never took the time. I never made the effort. I guess I always assumed there’d be another day.

And now I’ve lost the opportunity. I’m sad about that.

Friends, time is fleeting and fickle. We can’t afford to put off until later what we feel called and compelled to do today. Just make the time and do it now. In the end, relationships and how we connect with people are all that really matter.

So here’s to Merle. I hope I get to know her better – someday – on the other side.

Culture Fest Louisiana

2011-10-22T14:55:00.010-05:00

Another weekend, another fascinating festival here in Lake Charles.

Whereas most festivals around the state celebrate some inherently traditional Louisiana something or other, this inaugural gathering of Culture Fest Louisiana focused on the global diversity represented in southwest Louisiana.

Countries from around the world, including many in Central America, the Middle East, and Asia, were featured. Indian women in silky saris, Mexicans in brightly-colored serapes – they all displayed their native clothes, food, music, dance, and traditions.

While I perused the displays of the many different countries, I listened to a lively steel drum band. They were really good, and I would have guessed they were straight from the Bahamas if they hadn’t been a bunch of white guys.

Last night, Bob and I caught some of the performances on the outdoor stage. We watched some Vietnamese girls do a traditional dance with those conical straw hats. It was unique, creative, and beautiful.

As I left the festival today, I heard a bagpipe bellowing from the Civic Center balcony. Guess there was a bit of Scotland there, also.

Guest Blogging This Week

2011-10-17T16:10:00.002-05:00

I often guest blog on other sites.

My writing buds, the Bayou Writers, have a blog. Check out my new post here.

LitStack is a literary website -- for the love of all things wordy. A great place to find book reviews and other publishing industry news. Read my most recent book review here.

French Immersion

2011-10-12T16:30:00.003-05:00

You know I write extensively about the unique culture of Louisiana. I learn something new and interesting every day. Yesterday I attended The Great Acadiana Awakening, a traveling festival celebrating the native French language, culture, and heritage. Naturally, I heard music there -- music is a vital integral part of life in Louisiana -- including elementary kids from several local school singing songs in French. They are part of a special program in our parish called French Immersion. Local readers, bear with me. This may seem like no big deal to you. But to my non-Louisiana readers, this may be a fascinating concept. It certainly is to this Yankee. I'm not sure of the exact numbers, but 2-3 elementary schools, a couple middle schools, and no more than 1-2 high schools in Calcasieu Parish offer this voluntary opportunity. The purpose of this program is to help preserve the French heritage that is so unique to the state of Louisiana. For the students in French Immersion, ALL classes except reading and English are conducted 100% in French. Imagine that! Imagine learning French in science, math and social studies classes. These students are fluent in French by the fourth grade. Over 500 children in the parish participate in this program. Cool, huh!

Here's something I do not know, and maybe someone local can fill me in. Is this program unique to Calcasieu Parish, or is it statewide?

Lois Greenfield -- Photographer of Dance

2011-10-09T21:01:00.003-05:00

There's a fantastic exhibit currently at Historic City Hall Arts and Cultural Center, Lake Charles. In "Resonating Fields," acclaimed photographer Lois Greenfield has captured dancers in motion. A photographer freezes a fraction of a second in time, yet Greenfield's shots masterfully illustrate movement and action. Whether you are a fan of dance or not, I encourage you to see this show (through November 12). Greenfield's work will amaze and inspire you. For more information, check out the Lake Charles Civic Ballet blog, where I guest blogged last week, October 4. Find Lois Greenfield's website here.

Trees

2011-10-04T11:19:00.010-05:00

I don’t often discuss books on my blog. But it’s not often I am so touched by a book that I feel compelled to talk about it.

I’ve been a book reviewer for years, most recently at a literary website called LitStack. This is how the book Seeds, by Richard Horan, came to my doorstep, waiting to be read. It’s a non-fiction book, a memoir of sorts, about the author’s journey to travel around the country collecting seeds from the trees that have influenced notable figures in American history, primarily literary heroes, but a few entertainment celebrities, as well. You can read my book review here.

I’ve always loved trees. I can’t think of any place where I feel more at peace, more relaxed and at home, than in the middle of a lush green forest. Trees are so dependable. (Barring a hurricane or chainsaw, that is.) They’re always there, standing guard, quietly observing, often for hundreds, even thousands of years.

Horan’s book got me thinking about the trees in my own life that have influenced or otherwise made an impression upon me. Mostly the trees at my grandparents’ houses come to mind. Both sets of grandparents lived in the country. At my mom’s parents’ home, I remember two gigantic weeping willow trees, their unseen roots surely stretching beneath the ground to the nearby pond. Many a picnic and photo session took place beneath those behemoths. There was an orchard – peaches and plums – but I especially recall picking bucketfuls of sour cherries with my grandfather from an old but determined tree, its branches gnarly but its yield prolific. At my dad’s parents’ place, a sturdy maple tree stood like a sentinel beside the driveway. During my entire childhood, I recall a swing, handmade of wood and rope, hanging from a tall branch. At my own childhood home, two impressive pines grew near the property line. Beneath their boughs, I played with my friends. One low branch was the perfect height to practice chin ups and pull ups for those dreaded presidential physical fitness tests in the 70s. We buried my first pet, a cat named Minnie, at the base of one of these trees, because she loved to climb them. Atop a hill near that home, a boyfriend once carved our initials into a tree. I wonder if it’s still there. And I remember fondly, this time of year, scouring the woods and collecting perfect leaves of red, orange, and yellow. We’d bring them home and iron them between sheets of waxed paper. That’s one thing I miss, living in the south – the colors of autumn.

Years ago, I wrote this poem about a stand of virgin timber in a place very dear to me, Swallow Falls State Park, near Oakland, Maryland. This poem has won awards and been published in a couple different places.

River Falls

The air smells of childhood memories,
wood smoke and wildflowers,
dampness, primordial decay.
Distant sounds of rushing, roaring river beckon.
Pine needles cushion rocky, rooted paths.
Slippery sage moss clings to
icy trickling springs.
Ancient ledges beg exploration.
Towering virgins,
white pine and hemlock,
ache for long lost solitude,
reluctantly share
their sanctuary.

I have a stamp with which I emboss my name into books that I know I’ll want to keep indefinitely. I try not to be a pack rat, so very few books I read are stamp-worthy.

Tell me about the trees that have been special or noteworthy in your life.

A Rite of Passage

2011-09-26T17:05:00.004-05:00

I took Andrew to take his driver’s test today. He’s been tooling around with his permit, playing chauffeur to his dad and me for about nine months now. As anyone who owns a vehicle knows, the DMV is often an exercise in patience.

We were advised to go to Sulphur; that the wait is shorter there. So we hopped on I-10 West, going out of our way, only to discover that their computers were down this morning and the waiting room overflowed with folks, all seats taken, even people sitting on the floor, awaiting licenses, license renewals, license plates, car registrations, and whatever else people go to the DMV for. The elderly woman next to me had been waiting for over two hours. Andrew and I decided to take our chances and try the Lake Charles DMV, though I knew we’d wait there, too.

We took a ticket, found seats, and opened our books. Three and a half hours and several trips to the vending machines later and we now have a third licensed driver in the house. Yep, he passed, first time!

As I sat waiting in the overly-chilled DMV, I recalled when I was 16 and got my own driver’s license (I failed the first time – we won’t talk about that) and reflected on what it means to a young person. A degree of freedom. More independence. To no longer be wholly reliant on Mom and Dad. And what it means to a parent. A letting go. A trust. A stark realization that they’re growing up. Quickly.

Advice for anyone planning a trip to the DMV: Take a big book, a bulky sweater, a whole lot of patience, and go on a day when you have absolutely nothing better to do.

Louisiana Lesson One -- Music

2011-09-19T21:30:00.006-05:00

I signed myself up for a Leisure Learning course at McNeese University. The class will explore "topics covering Louisiana's unique culture." How could I resist! We began today with a lecture on Louisiana music, specifically jazz and its origins in New Orleans, presented by well-known professor and musician Rick Condit.

I had not realized that jazz is the only genre of music truly original to Louisiana. Other music forms which we may attribute to this state, such as Cajun or zydeco, actually originated in other places and migrated here.

Jazz evolved from an amalgamation of many sources. Nineteenth century New Orleans was an integrated mish mash of cultures and people from around the world. In the early 1800s, slaves sang, danced, and played music in Congo Square. There, African beats melded with Caribbean melodies. Choirs in Baptist churches, brass marching bands in parades, opera houses, and symphonies permeated the air with music. One northerner supposedly said, "New Orleans is one vast and gallivanting hall." Around the 1840s and for the next eighty years, minstrel shows, a blend of music and comedy, entertained the masses.

Out of this musically diverse heritage came Louis Armstrong (1901-1971). Louie made a profound contribution to jazz, essentially creating a new musical language, a new lyrical vocabulary. He was innovative, a master at improvisation.

Next up, a look at Louisiana folklore. In the meantime, enjoy these three videos. Interestingly, even when Louie didn’t play it, he still held his trumpet.

Reflections on 9-11

2011-09-11T14:03:00.003-05:00

Ten years, hard to believe. Anyone who is old enough to remember will say they remember it like it was yesterday; time, place, events, circumstances, and emotions indelibly seared into our minds. We are all reliving our stories today. Here's mine.

I was working part-time then at Passavant Hospital. And I wasn't scheduled to work that day, but had to be there that morning for a mandatory inservice. During the meeting, someone came in and interrupted the speaker, whispering something to her. The speaker ended the meeting soon after. I went upstairs to the respiratory care department where I worked. Many people were congregated in our sleep lab, huddled and staring at a TV.

I said, "What's happening?"

"A plane flew into the World Trade Center," said Melissa.

"What?" I peered at the image on the screen. I expected it to be a little two-seater with the tail sticking out of the glass. "Well, where is it?"

"Inside the building."

I tried to fathom exactly what that meant. We all assumed it was an unbelievable tragic accident. But then the second plane sliced through the other tower. And we knew we were under attack.

The rest of the day was surreal. I went home and, like the rest of the country, was glued to the TV. I kept trying to call my mom but the phones were tied up. No one could get through and we didn't yet have computers or cell phones.

Then word of the Pentagon. And then Flight 93. We didn't know what was coming next. I recall the anxiety and uncertainess of it all. I went to see my neighbor and good friend Christine, so I wasn't alone. Many parents went to the school to pick up their kids, but I didn't think it wise. The boys were in first grade. I didn't want them to be worried or scared.

I recall the silence of the sky over the ensuing days. Being so accustomed to planes flying overhead that I didn't even hear them anymore, their absence screamed calamity. Two days later, at my Thursday morning women's bible study at church, we read Romans 12:9-21 through tear-veiled eyes. I encourage you to read it.

Romans 12:21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Please share your story in the comments.

Pittsburgh's North Side Farmers' Market

2011-09-09T15:48:00.006-05:00

You all know I miss a lot of things about Pittsburgh. One thing I really miss is the North Side Farmers' Market. I think of it every Friday afternoon, when, if I still lived in the 'burgh, I would be there. Early September is just about the peak of harvest time in the northeast and the place is hopping as I write, I'm sure. I loved the colors there; the bouquets of fresh cut flowers, produce sold from the back of farmers' trucks -- tomatoes, corn, green beans, squash of all kinds, onions, beets, bright shiny peppers, greens, cucumbers, you name it. And the smells . . . I miss the bread man -- does he still make the yummy loaves with chocolate chunks and dried cherries? Sandhill Berry Farm, with those incredible raspberry chocolate chip cookies, pies, and jams. The Polish stand, selling pierogies and halushka, the Greek vendor with his spinach pies, gyros, and baklava. The man with his little table of figs and the guy who hawks peaches and apples, always ready with a sample. The lemonade stand. I miss it all. And what a great place to people watch. People are so colorful, too. Pittsburgh's a very ethnic town -- Asians, African-Americans, Indians -- and everyone loves fresh produce. Young couples holding hands, deciding what to have for dinner. Elderly in motorized wheelchairs buying their weekly fruits and vegetables. Middle-aged singles with dogs on leashes. Kids running through the trees, with moms chasing after them. Cars and buses on surrounding streets and helicopters landing at Allegheny General.

I don't have any photos. it never occured to me to take pictures of the farmers' market when I lived there. But I did find a link.

Of course, we have farmers' markets here in Lake Charles. And I love frequenting them. It's just not quite the same hustle bustle. The colors, sounds, and smells are different. I miss it.

Do you have a favorite farmers' market? What do you love about it?

Hurricane Irene

2011-08-26T12:01:00.003-05:00

Hurricane Irene barrels up the East Coast as I write. All my friends who live there are on my heart. Here on the Gulf Coast, the threat of hurricanes is part of the fabric of life. During hurricane season – June 1 to November 30 – the weatherman mentions “the tropics” in each and every newscast. Even if there’s not a wave or wisp of wind out in the Gulf, he might say, “It’s quiet today out in the tropics.” And they’ll show the radar to prove it. We get flyers in the mail instructing and encouraging us to be prepared. Organizations host hurricane preparedness seminars. We can sign up for weather alerts on our cell phones or buy special weather radios. It’s everywhere. A part of life.

But that doesn’t make a direct threat any less scary or stressful. We moved here in 2007, so we didn’t experience Hurricane Rita in 2005. (Katrina hit New Orleans – other side of the state. Rita slammed into southwest Louisiana a few weeks later.) Even though six years have passed, local folks still shudder at the mention of Rita’s name. (Read Rita anniversary post here.) I’ve naturally absorbed some of that dread. Hurricanes Gustav and Ike came back to back in the fall of 2008. I remember well the fear, like carrying a heavy weight of impending doom in my chest, as we boarded up, packed up (we evacuated for Gustav) or stocked up and hunkered down (staying put for Ike). So much anxiety and uncertainty. My eyes were glued to the TV, watching the angry red swirl inching closer and closer. I recall praying every waking moment, reading the Psalms for comfort.

I looked in my journal from those dates and found this passage from Isaiah.

Isaiah 41:10,13 Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

Take care, East Coast readers. May God’s love and power be a shield around you.

Arts and Crabs

2011-08-21T14:42:00.005-05:00

Imagine a festival which combines three of my very favorite things – food, art, and music. Such was the event yesterday at the Lake Charles Civic Center, the second annual Arts and Crabs fest. There were numerous jewelry makers – love perusing their wares. A considerable amount of photography vendors – they’re all terrific. And some fantastic fine artists. One of my favorite local watercolorists was there – Sue Zimmerman! I’m giddy as a groupie around her, but her paintings are so incredible! Look at that painting in the background. Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE roseate spoonbills.

Parris Duhon painted the poster at top.

We listened to some excellent Cajun music. On the left, (below) is Chris Miller, who, incidentally, is choir director extraordinaire at my church, First Presbyterian of Lake Charles.
And the food! Ten restaurants. Ten different crab dishes. Ten accompanying flavors of Abita beer. I was so busy sampling and sipping, I forgot to take photos of the food! We savored crab etoufee, crab cakes, crab-stuffed jalapenos, crab-stuffed mushrooms, crab au gratin, crab and avocado salad, crab gazpacho, creamy pasta and crab, crab bisque, and crab ceviche. Talk about passing a good time! Just one suggestion to the planners . . . more tables! There was seating for about a tenth or less of the folks there. It wasn’t easy balancing a cardboard tray piled high with crab dishes and 10 shot glasses of beer samples while eating at the same time. But I managed. When we left, there was still a very long line snaking around the mezzanine. I hope the folks at the end of the queue got food.

All the dishes were delicious, but if I had to choose a personal best of show, I really liked the crab ceviche. It had a strong lime flavor that went well with the crab. It was prepared by Harlequin Steaks and Seafood, one of my favorite restaurants in town. What’s your favorite crab dish?

A Frog Blog

2011-08-14T22:04:00.008-05:00

I love frogs, always have. They're so cute. I found this little guy on our back patio this evening.

I have fond memories of frogs. When I was a kid, both sets of grandparents lived in the country and had ponds on their property. Pretty little green frogs, much like the one above, would line the banks, hiding in the timothy grass and cat tails. They’d see me coming and, one by one, hop, hop, hop into the mucky brown mud and leaves on the pond bottom. But I was a whiz at catching frogs. I’d cup one in my hands and think he was my new best friend. I’d put him in a clear plastic cup, add some grass and twigs, and think I’d made the best frog house ever, like I was doing him a favor. I’d name him, usually Hoppy, or something equally original, and carry him around with me everywhere. I’d swat flies and toss them into the cup – I can’t remember if the frogs ate these dead flies. After a few days, I’d start to imagine he was homesick, that he missed his family, so I’d take him back to the pond and set him free. Then I’d catch another one.

Several years ago, when the boys were toddlers, we had a couple tree frogs and fire-bellied toads in an aquarium. They ate crickets. I felt like a kid again watching them. Once we tried to feed them a lady bug. That didn’t go over so well. “Blech,” said the frog who struggled to get it off his sticky tongue.

Speaking of tadpoles, we took Eric back to school today and Andrew starts tomorrow. Junior year here already.

What was your favorite critter when you were a kid?

Orange Leaf Frozen Yogurt

2011-08-07T17:46:00.009-05:00

Not since the glory days of TCBY have I been so excited about a frozen confection. A bit over a month ago, Orange Leaf Frozen Yogurt opened its doors over in Sulphur. It’s not on my way to anywhere I go. Maybe that’s a good thing. But I don’t mind making a trek every now and then. It’s my new favorite culinary destination.

Now I know to all you readers from bigger or more cosmopolitan cities, Orange Leaf and other similar frozen yogurt chains – Pinkberry, Red Mango – are not a new concept. But here in Lake Charles, well, we often lag behind current trends. We catch up eventually. Me, personally, I’ve been waiting for this a long time.

Back in the 80’s, TCBY was all the rage. A novelty at the time. I worked and attended grad school (Pitt) in the Oakland section of Pittsburgh and went to TCBY nearly every day. Couldn’t get enough of the stuff. All I can say is, frozen yogurt has come a long way.

For anyone not familiar with self-serve fro-yo (Being that we live in southwest Louisiana, we can call it Freaux Yeaux) here’s the deal. You walk into a colorful cheery store front and are warmly greeted by a young kid working his way through college.

You choose a cup size – larger or largest (the Sulphur store conveniently runs out of the smaller of the two regularly. These folks know marketing.)

Then you face a wall of 16 yogurt flavors. And of course you can mix and match. A daunting decision-making process. Everything is so tempting. They offer samples.

Next you deliberate over a smorgasbord of toppings. Hmm, more decisions.

And then you pay by the ounce. Guess which one was mine.

I think we need one of these places in Lake Charles. How about you? Do you have a favorite neighborhood frozen yogurt shop? Tell me about your experience(s).

LitStack

2011-07-31T16:17:00.007-05:00

Do you enjoy reading? So do I! Great news -- there's a new website/blog devoted to book lovers and readers of all kinds. I'll be contributing book reviews and occasional articles to this new site called Lit Stack.

LitStack is a new reviews site dedicated to readers of fiction, nonfiction, poetry, short stories, literary magazines, ebooks, manga and graphic novels. (We'll probably even be posting some spoken-word stuff for the super-artsy types.) The site also features indie bookstores and literary landmarks across the world (one city at a time), and cool bookish finds and news we run across online.

In addition to daily book reviews and regular spotlights on indie bookstores we love, LitStack also features regular segments to promote current titles and build appreciation for older works.

LitStack’s Featured Author- This month-long series of posts includes reviews of previous releases by our Featured Author, along with a current interview and review to coincide with the author’s upcoming release.

LitStaff Picks- Once a week, we feature a collection of books new and old--the favorites of our staff within a specific theme.

ShortStacks - Original short stories and essays by established authors.

Footnotes - Multiple weekly posts highlighting literary events in history, including the birthdays of famous authors, publication and award dates of classic titles, and memorial posts for beloved figures.

Author Interviews - Launch week will feature interviews with Adam Schuitema and Hannah Moskowitz. In the coming weeks, Locus winner Cherie Priest, NYT Bestseller Terry Brooks and Irish Book Awards winner Marian Keyes are scheduled to appear.

The Book Club - Every month LitStack will have a couple of featured titles; a review, open-thread discussion and author Q&A (when available) will be posted for each book so you can read along and share your thoughts.

So check us out. LitStack debuts today 8:00 A.M. CST.

Top Ten Lists

2011-07-24T18:08:00.003-05:00

You see them everywhere these days. Newspapers, magazines, internet sites, late night talk shows. The top ten best places to . . . , the top ten favorite . . . , the top ten easiest . . . , the top ten worst . . . . A writer friend of mine insists these top ten lists amount to nothing more than lazy journalism. Mere filler and fluff for pages or airwaves. And yet they remain a pop culture staple. Publishers love them. Do readers? Personally, I get pretty excited when I read that Pittsburgh is the number one most livable city, rates high for having a low cost of living, or boasts the most football fans. I feel sad when I read that Louisiana ranks high as one of most unhealthy states or has poor standards for education.

What do you think? Do you read top ten lists? Do you enjoy them? Do they influence your behavior or opinions? Do you really want someone telling you where to find the best pizza in town or would you rather figure that out for yourself?

I guess I was lazy this weekend. I did little exciting or noteworthy. So here are my own top ten best reasons to love living in southwest Louisiana.

10. Shorts and t-shirts in January. Sure, we suffer stifling heat and humidity in the summer – what part of the country hasn’t lately – and occasional hurricanes. But I love not bundling up and shivering in winter, dealing with treacherous driving conditions, and paying $300.00 monthly heating bills. I love that I can get outdoors and play year round. Recently, I'm learning how to kayak. Like I always say, I’d rather be hot in the summer than cold in the winter.

9. Free parking. Everywhere. No kidding.

8. Minimal traffic. Seriously. If five cars line up behind a stop light, the locals think it’s a traffic jam.

7. Roads. Long, straight, basic grid pattern, easy to learn my way around. And without the freeze/thaw thing going on in the winter, very few if any potholes. Okay, enough about driving and weather.

6. Food. Since moving to Louisiana, my taste buds have savored the most incredible new cuisines and some dishes I’d never even heard of before. Gumbo, jambalaya, etoufee, po boys, boudin, crawfish, shrimp and other fresh seafood; it’s all so good!

5. Interesting wildlife. Nutria, roseate spoonbills, armadillos . . . . An alligator in Lowe’s garden center? Why did the chicken cross the road? To show the opossum it actually can in fact be done.

4. Festivals. Louisiana.com states Calcasieu Parish alone hosts over 75 annual festivals. That's only one parish in a five parish region. Suffice it to say, there are a whole lot of festivals around here. I've said it before; we celebrate everything!

3. Music. Zydeco, Cajun, swamp pop . . . if all that doesn’t make you want to dance, there’s no hope for you.

2. Unique culture. I’m learning French by osmosis. I’m fascinated by the traditions of Mardi Gras, pirates, swamp lore, and the Acadians. It’s a daily learning experience. And I love the arts in Lake Charles; the many galleries and museums, theater, ballet, the symphony, the list goes on and on.

And my number one top ten reason why I love living in southwest Louisiana . . . friendly people. The folks here are amazing; kind, helpful, caring, welcoming, shirt-off-their-backs-for-anyone-types. My family and I have been on the receiving end of so much goodness. It’s truly heartwarming. Of course, Pittsburghers rank high on the friendly list, too. On my top ten, Pittsburgh and Lake Charles are tied for first place in the friendly category.

Let me know what you think on those earlier questions. And just for fun, create a top ten list related to your own hometown.

Weekend Happenings

2011-07-17T18:55:00.004-05:00

Wow, what an awesome weekend for Lake Charles music fans. Street Side Jazz Band played at Stellar Beans coffee shop Friday evening. Asleep at the Wheel, a favorite of mine from college days, performed at the Civic Center Saturday night. Various bands at the annual Cajun Music and Food Festival entertained all weekend at Burton Coliseum.

And I didn’t see or hear any of it. Nope, except for a writing/work-related thing on Saturday and church on Sunday (which also has awesome music!) I stayed home, read, walked, watched a movie, perused the Sunday paper, baked banana bread, swung in the hammock, rode my bike . . . relaxed. Some weekends are simply meant to be less exciting (busy, stressful) than others. Yay for downtime!

While I wiled away a Sunday afternoon, photographer/writer friend Frank DiCesare went to that Cajun music festival and took a few photos. The guys below call themselves Jamie Bergeron and the Kickin' Cajuns. You can find more of Frank’s photography on his website.

Fort Lauderdale

2011-07-10T16:57:00.010-05:00

Bob and I spent the weekend in Fort Lauderdale. Quick trip, but fun, while the boys were away at camp. Here’s Bob hanging out at Bahia Cabana with his buddies Jake and Elwood.

You may not know this about me, but I have a fountain fetish. Truly.

We weren’t really there long enough to see much besides big yachts and mansions while riding on the water taxi. I kinda like this one.

By far the sight that wins the most interesting/unusual/weird award goes to this car. Who does this?

Happy Birthday, Mom

2011-07-04T14:51:00.005-05:00

Cost of a plane ticket from Lake Charles to Pittsburgh . . . more than my husband wanted to spend.

Number of travel hours, after a flight delay, missed connection, overnight stay in Houston, and a rental car malfunction . . . way more than I wanted to spend.

The look on Mom's face and the joy in our hearts when I surprised her and showed up at her 70th birthday party . . .

Priceless!

Lake Arthur, Louisiana

2011-06-29T19:36:00.009-05:00

I had heard of a town named Arthur somewhere in the area – the weatherman mentions rainfall amounts there, a friend’s husband works there, there’s a great Hispanic grocer there, it’s a beautiful area, no, it’s industrial – it’s in Texas, right? No, it’s in Louisiana . . . I’d hear or read. I was confused about Arthur. It took me four years to figure it out . . . Port Arthur is west of Lake Charles in east Texas. Lake Arthur is southeast of us, over in Jeff Davis Parish south of Jennings.

I’d been considering going to Lake Arthur, just to check it out, for some time. But a feature story in Sunday’s American Press convinced me to finally go. Promises of a pretty beach and an ice cream store clinched it for me. It’s a teeny tiny town, population around 3,000 in an area about 2.5 square miles. We stopped for lunch at Nott’s Corner Seafood and Deli. That’s a big crawfish!

Eric and friend Josh ate gumbo. Look at the size of those bowls! You would think we were in Texas!

Down the road from Nott’s we found the beach. They ship in sand from the Ouiska (pronounced whiskey) Chitto River, a place in Louisiana I’ve not yet been, which is known for its pretty white sand. The park has plenty of covered pavilions to escape the sun. It’s quite nice.

Water soccer?

This small town is currently in the process of revitalizing, a “work in progress,” as one proprietor told me. There are a few gift shops, but with three teenage boys in tow, I didn’t take the time for those. I heard there’s a new bakery, but I didn’t see it. We concluded our trip to Lake Arthur with a visit to LA Scoops, the new ice cream parlor I’d read about. They serve locally made Kleinpeter Ice Cream. The Triple Chocolate Stampede will leave you wishing you’d ordered two scoops!

Sailing on Father's Day, 2011

2011-06-19T21:53:00.009-05:00

It’s been even breezier than usual in southwest Louisiana lately, so we took advantage and went sailing today. Bob says a Sunfish is a one-person boat, but we easily fit two people on it. First Eric went out with him, then me, and finally Andrew. The lake is so warm right now, feels like bath water. And salty! Lake Charles is supposedly a freshwater lake, but Bob says the strong constant southerly wind this year has pushed seawater right up the ship channel and into the lake.

Great way to spend a sunny Sunday afternoon!

Vacation Favorites and Other Notables

2011-06-15T21:43:00.016-05:00

Over our two week trek through west Texas and southeast New Mexico, we experienced many things, but as is always the case, certain things stood out.

Favorite restaurant: La Trattoria, Alpine, Tx. Their dark chocolate hazelnut cheesecake is possibly the best dessert I’ve ever tasted in my life.

Favorite lodging: The Maverick Inn, Alpine, Tx. This quaint motel with a Zen cowboy atmosphere is owned and operated by a family of cats, but they have a couple humans working for them.

Favorite lodging lobby: Hotel El Capitan, Van Horn, Tx. This place is an old renovated hotel in a teeny town off I-10. I asked the desk clerk about the bullet holes in the stairwell window. “I don’t know, but it used to be a bank,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. I’m always looking for a good story.

And while I’m in Van Horn, this was our quirkiest discovery: “Fancy Junk.” No one was there to talk to, the place wasn’t officially open, but someone there has a knack for making artwork out of scrap metal . . . insects, spaceships, dinosaurs, etc.

Okay, while I’m still in Van Horn, what the heck is a Haul of Fame? No, we did not eat there.

Favorite critter encounter: This had to be a tie. I couldn’t decide between the colorful lizard or the tarantula. Both were photographed during a hike on McKittrick Canyon Trail, Guadalupe Mountains National Park.

Most nostalgic moment: At the Carlsbad Museum and Art Center, there’s an exhibit of 3D photography of the Lecheguilla Cavern. When I looked through the lenses at the first photograph, I immediately was reminded of “View Master,” one of my favorite toys as a kid.

Longest drive: Alamogordo, NM to New Braunfels, TX – over ten hours.

Biggest disappointment: So few bats flying out of Carlsbad Cavern at dusk.

Most educational visit: McDonald Observatory. This place has an awesome deal. For eight bucks, you get a three hour astronomer-led tour of some of the largest telescopes in the world. I learned more about the sun and how telescopes work – it’s all about mirrors – than I ever knew I wanted to know. Great place!

Most physically challenging endeavor: Hiking to the top of Emory Peak, Big Bend National Park. (See previous post.)

Most pleasant surprise: There are no mosquitoes in west Texas or SE New Mexico!

Big Bend National Park

2011-06-11T19:35:00.019-05:00

Big Bend is a study in rocks, geology, a rugged arid cragginess hugging the Rio Grande River. It’s desolate, deserted, barren, and yet beautiful in a majestic sort of way. We camped for three nights in the Chisos Basin.

Camping is very different in west Texas compared to what we’re accustomed to. Because of the severe drought and risk of wildfires, there's a burn ban in effect. No campfires or lanterns. Later, at Guadalupe Mountains National Park, we weren’t even allowed to use our camp stove at the site. Camping isn’t quite the same without toasted marshmallows and s’mores. I don’t know if it’s true for all national parks, or only the ones in the desert where there’s not much water, but there are no showers at the campgrounds! We got pretty good at sponge bathing.

The mornings and evenings were comfortably cool, but the afternoons were stinkin’ hot. We escaped the heat by sight-seeing in the car or hanging out at the Visitor’s Center. West Texas boasts some of the darkest night skies in North America, providing some pretty amazing star gazing.

Rio Grande River

Wild horses over on the other side, in Mexico.

Casa Grande

This opening into the basin is called the “Window.” Great spot to watch the sun set.

These Century plants are everywhere here. They grow for about a decade, bloom once, then die.

I kept meaning to ask a ranger what made some prickly pear cacti turn pink, but I never remembered. Does anyone know?

When we weren’t sweating profusely, the only thing to do was hike around this rugged landscape. Our best, longest, and certainly most challenging hike was climbing to the top of Emory Peak, elevation 7,832 feet. Here’s a shot of Emory Peak from our campsite. It’s the tallest peak in the center of the photo.

The ten mile trek took us about seven hours. We rested frequently.

The effort was worth it, not only for the sense of accomplishment, but for the spectacular views.

Here we are reaching the summit.

Guess what we found at the top? Ladybugs!

White Sands National Monument

2011-06-09T21:53:00.015-05:00

Big Bend boasts rocky majestic peaks and incredible starry nights. Guadalupe Mountains hold lush canyons and hidden oases. Carlsbad Caverns reveal an underground treasure trove. But one of the coolest places we went on this vacation was White Sands National Monument.

Through geological and weather wonders, 275 square miles of granulated gypsum fill a mountain-ringed basin, like a giant sandbox, the wind constantly blowing and building dunes on this ever-changing un-earthly landscape. Like a North American Galapagos Islands, White Sands is home to some creatures and plants that live nowhere else on earth.

We slid down the dunes on saucer-shaped sleds.

That’s Andrew and Bob walking in the distance. The sand is so VAST.

I love this shot . . . the sand and dunes, the mountains in the background, storms clouds above. It did rain some that afternoon.

New Mexico’s state flower – the Soap Tree Yucca

Quite by happenstance, we came upon a foursome who asked if we’d mind taking their photo together. We obliged, and then they offered to take our photo. Seems a couple of them were professional photographers, so they got a few fun shots of us.

At the end of the day, we took a ranger-led “sunset stroll.”

Carlsbad Caverns National Park, New Mexico

2011-06-05T23:54:00.009-05:00

We spent the day underground at Carlsbad Caverns National Park. I’d only visited a few caves prior to today, but Carlsbad is by far the largest and grandest. I highly recommend a visit if you’re ever in the area. How incredible that such splendor can exist beneath the surface of the earth. I was truly astounded, as always, by the imagination of our Creator.

Photos cannot do the cave justice, but my budding amateur photographer Andrew, tripod in hand, did an admirable job with his camera.

There are two ways to enter the cave. By elevator from the Visitor Center, or by a 750+ f00t descent from the natural entrance. We took the elevator down and opted to hike out the in door (below). Great workout!

We stuck around till dusk to see the bats fly out of the cave. In the past, 200,000 or more bats would band together in exodus, swirling in a vortex up and out into the night. Quite a sight, so we’re told. Sadly, the bat population seems to be declining at Carlsbad. Rangers speculate it could be due to the drought, and maybe they’re migrating to water. Anyway, only a few hundred bats exited the cave this evening, a few here, a couple there. Rather unspectacular. Great day, though.

Desert Blooms

2011-06-04T15:55:00.015-05:00

We Dilmores are currently on a two week trek to west Texas/southeast New Mexico, trying to hit as many national parks and sights as we can. We’re experiencing and encountering so many exciting places on this family vacation, I don’t dare write here about everything, lest I lose you, my readers. It may take me some time to sort out the highlights, but in the meantime, here’s a post to tide you over.

After we explored the Big Bend area of west Texas, we meandered to Guadalupe Mountains National Park. The night before we arrived, horrific thunderstorms – to hear one seasoned camper tell it – moved through the park. There’s been very little rain here and the area is currently in extreme drought mode. A ranger told us this was the first rain in six months. It was just enough to cause the cacti to burst into bloom. Perfect timing! The bees seem to be happy, too. Here’s just a small sample of the flora we’ve seen at Guadalupe.

More to come soon.

Bling

2011-05-25T14:52:00.006-05:00

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not real big into jewelry. But I do enjoy accessorizing every now and then, if I think of it. For me to appreciate jewelry, a piece ideally has to meet any combination of the following criteria; unique or one of a kind, vintage, sentimental, and lovely. So, every once in awhile, I’ll discover a bracelet or bauble which thoroughly delights me. Such was the case last Saturday morning at the Lake Charles farmers’ market.

Artist Nancy Pierce creates bracelets and wind chimes out of antique spoons and forks. I found her work enchanting, and I knew I wouldn’t leave the market without a purchase. But oh, the decisions. Agonizing, actually, because I loved them all. First, I chose a bracelet. They’re all beautiful. And they clasp with a magnet, which, as any woman with only two hands knows, is brilliant. Then I chose a charm to accompany it. So many to choose from! After a ridiculously long deliberation, I decided on this. I love the moon. Guess it’s the Aquarius in me.

I also bought this wind chime, because I adore dragonflies. And bright colors.

Ms. Nancy designs and makes her creations from her country home in the Longview/Ragley area. I wish I’d taken a few photos at her booth, but I was so enamored with her wares, I forgot all about my camera. I don’t think she has a website, but she calls her business All Forked Up and she can be reached at allforkedupbraceletes@gmail.com

What kind of jewelry do you like?

Opelousas, LA

2011-05-18T18:31:00.010-05:00

I spent the day in Opelousas with my friend and fellow writer Jan Newman. It’s a small town, but lot’s to see. Opelousas claims to be the third oldest city in Louisiana, so there’s plenty of history, and the Zydeco Capital of the World, so they’re big on music. Located in St. Landry Parish, a bit north of Lafayette, it’s in the heartland of Cajun French country, so there’s all that, too. Good thing I had Jan along to interpret for me. She grew up not far from Opelousas, a Cajun farmer’s daughter.

We started at Le Vieux Village (The Old Village). The tourist center is there, along with a dozen or so old buildings – several houses, one dating back to around 1791, a church, a market house, doctor’s office . . .

A two-room schoolhouse from the early 1900s.

A well-maintained steam engine graces the grounds.

“What’s this?” I ask Jan.

“It’s a pigeonnier,” she replies. “It housed pigeons.”

“Oh, you mean like carrier pigeons, for messengers?”

“No, they ate them.”

“Ah.”

The primary reason I wanted to go to Opelousas was to visit the Orphan Train Museum, located in a restored railroad station at Le Vieux Village.

Between 1854 – 1929, about 2,000 children rode trains from an orphanage in New York City to rural areas across the United States, including Louisiana. A few of these children were adopted, but most were indentured. Some families opened their homes out of love and compassion. Others, hopefully fewer, saw it as an opportunity for free labor. It’s a fascinating part of American history. In this Opelousas museum, Flo Inhern, whose father-in-law was an “orphan train rider,” gives a fantastic guided tour through the museum. Inside the museum you’ll see this beautiful mural by artist Robert Dafford, depicting the arrival of an orphan train in Opelousas.

We went to the Opelousas Museum and Interpretive Center, a small but interesting collection with everything from local Native American history (Opelousas is an Indian word), music and food (always), agriculture (cotton, rice, soybeans), and famous people from the town such as Jim Bowie, an Alamo hero originally from Opelousas, and 1972 Olympic gold medalist Rod Milburn. Did you know Opelousas is home to the Tony Chachere brand of spices and foods?

Upon a recommendation from the gal in the tourist center, we ate lunch at the Palace Café, an old fashioned hometown diner. I had a decent fried catfish poboy and fries.

There’s way more to do in Opelousas than we had time for. We were limited to the length of Andrew’s school day. An art museum sadly didn’t open until 1:00, and we didn’t get to the Zydeco Hall of Fame. But we did admire this mural (one of many in the town).

Mother's Day 2011

2011-05-08T17:12:00.004-05:00

I’m feeling somewhat melancholy on this Mother’s Day. I don’t want to sound negative. But after all, the title of this blog is The Trials and Triumphs . . . . and I don’t always feel very triumphant. Some days are more of a challenge than others. This is the first year since my sons were born 16 years ago that I haven’t been with both of them on Mother’s Day.

On a positive note, Andrew and I drove to Natchitoches yesterday to see Eric and his mixed ensemble spring band concert. I did his laundry while I was there, and took him out to dinner. But darn, I failed to get someone to take a picture of me and the boys while we were together! It’s a tradition. Every year since they were born, I get my picture taken with my sons on Mother’s Day. (Read last year’s post here.)

I didn’t sleep well last night, had insomnia. I was keyed up after Andrew drove the whole two hours home from Natchitoches (but that’s another blog post.) Bob sailed in the Contraband Pirate Festival Regatta all day Saturday, and he awoke sore, stiff, and sun-burned. He wasn’t up to going to church. I finally roused Andrew out of bed and made it to church on time. No one said Happy Mother’s Day to me until Andrew noticed the sentiment on the fellowship hall projection screen.

“Oh yeah, happy mother’s day.”

“Thanks, Drew.”

On a positive note, upon returning home from church, I did receive two very nice cards; a sweet one from Bob and a funny one from Andrew.

This year, we had to improvise on the photo.

Thank goodness for Skype.

And I miss my mom. This is the fourth year in a row I haven’t seen her on Mother’s Day. On a positive note, I have the greatest Mom in the world and even when we’re not together, we know we love and miss each other and we’re still there for each other. My sisters, lucky for them, just happen to be a little bit more there.

On a positive note, Bob grilled burgers. He and Andrew washed my car. We took a nice walk. But my favorite part of the day was hearing Andrew play his saxophone in the praise band. And hearing Eric yesterday on his trumpet. I love seeing the talent these two boys possess. They make me incredibly proud to be their mother.

Not such a bad day after all! I hope all you mothers out there had a great day, too!

Getting Away Without Going Anywhere

2011-05-03T22:06:00.006-05:00

Everyone loves a vacation. Getting away from it all, away from the normal routine, the stress of the same ol’ day in day out. But what would you do if you had a few days off and decided to stay home instead of traveling? A “staycation,” as they say? Bob and I found out these past few days. Eric of course is away at school. On Friday, Andrew left for Orlando with the high school band. Bob and I were alone, just the two of us. So he took Monday and Tuesday off, made it a long weekend, and we squeezed in as much fun as we could into a few days. Turns out there’s quite a lot to do in one’s own backyard. It was pretty easy to pretend we were on vacation.

Coincidentally, there’s a festival in town right now, Contraband Days, which is the city’s annual pirate festival. It lasts not one weekend, not one week, but an astounding two full weeks. It’s essentially a carnival with a pirate/boat theme and lots of music. Always a lot of music. Bob and I are not into the carnival scene, but we went to the Civic Center Friday night, dismayed that we had to pay $20.00 admission just to get to the marina to visit some friends of ours. En route, we enjoyed observing the merriment of the pirates and other general people watching.

We dined out several times over the course of the weekend . . . a late night snack and drinks at MacFarlane’s, Sunday brunch at KD’s Diner, burgers for lunch at Dairy Barn, and dinner this evening at Le Beaucoup Buffet at L’Auberge du Lac Casino Resort. It was crawfish night. Looking around the restaurant, we could tell who were the out of town tourists. They were the ones who didn’t know how to eat crawfish. After dinner, it took us about ten minutes to lose $20.00 in the quarter slots. We quickly decided it was too noisy and smoky in there.

We saw the movie Water For Elephants. Bob and I had been looking forward to seeing this movie for some time. We had both read the book and loved it. The movie is also very good. And we watched a few Netflix movies in our favorite movie theater – our living room.

We played 18 holes at Mallard Cove golf course. Notice the plane in the background. Mallard Cove is right next to Chennault Airport.

We walked, gardened, shopped, baked cookies, relaxed. We wanted to go sailing, but it was too windy. I know, that sounds like a contradiction. But in a little sunfish, some wind is good; a lot of wind is just another way to go swimming.

Alas, Bob goes back to work tomorrow and Andrew returns from Florida. It’s been a pleasant time off.

What would you do on a staycation?

Easter 2011

2011-04-23T23:08:00.003-05:00

Have you ever read something in the Bible that leaves you scratching your head? It’s one of the things I love about the Bible . . . it makes me ask questions and think.

On Good Friday morning, I read the Passion story from Matthew. I’ve read through the book of Matthew several times, but I can’t recall ever reading this passage before. As many Easter mornings as I’ve been in church, I don’t recall ever hearing it. Anywhere. Yet, there it is. So why isn’t this part of the Easter story?

Matthew 27:50-53 (NIV) And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. (That’s the part we all know, right? We all know about the curtain being torn in two at the moment of Jesus’ death. This next passage is the part that wowed my socks off.) The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs, and after Jesus’ resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many people.

Wait. What? Huh? Can you imagine the scene? What must those resurrected persons have thought? Where did they go between Friday and Sunday? Imagine the look on the faces of the people they appeared to!

Those couple verses jumped out at me like a biblical bunny carrying a basket of colored eggs. Have you ever heard that part of the Easter story? So I read this to my boys. They'd never heard that part either. “Why isn’t this part of the traditional Easter story?” I asked them. Andrew replied, “Cause it sounds like zombies. More like a Halloween story than the Easter story.”

Eric checked and said that line does not appear in the other three gospels. Did Matthew know something the other writers did not?

I’m very curious about this. I’d love to hear comments from anyone, but especially anyone who’s a theological/biblical scholar. Or someone who simply knows about stuff like this.

Have a blessed Easter, everyone! He is risen!

USS Orleck Naval Museum

2011-04-19T16:21:00.012-05:00

I’ve never been military-minded or particularly fond of anything related to war, but nonetheless, history interests me. Docked at the end of north Enterprise Boulevard, the USS Orleck Naval Museum recently opened in Lake Charles. So Eric and I took a tour today.

To give you a brief history, USS Orleck was a naval destroyer. Built in 1945, she missed WWII, but valiantly fought in the Korean and Vietnam wars. During her tour in Vietnam, she was known as the Gray Ghost. She later served 17 years in the Turkish Army. When the Orleck returned to the US in 1999, she found her way back to her birthplace, Orange, Texas. She was a museum there for several years until Hurricane Rita caused damage enough to close the museum. I guess she sat there unused for several years. Then through the painstaking efforts of numerous volunteers, the Orleck was brought to Lake Charles. For more information, go to http://www.ussorleck.com/. It’s a wonderful website.

USS Orleck is a work in progress. Many -- though never enough -- volunteers work to maintain and continue restoring the ship. According to our super tour guide Ron Williams, one volunteer who was instrumental in bringing Orleck to Lake Charles passed away this past Saturday at age 88. Edward Godwin was a retired Navy commander and was present at the grand opening and dedication of the USS Orleck Naval Museum just one week prior to his death. It’s as if he held on and waited to see the fruits of his labor.

Big guns.

Torpedos.

Captain Eric on the bridge.

The galley. The ship accomodated over 300 men, so this small kitchen served 1000 meals a day.

If you’re looking for something interesting to do, the USS Orleck is worth a trip.

My son Eric is one of the most adventurous eaters I know. When he was six years old, he eagerly ate fried frog legs at the Super Chinese Buffet. On our initial visit to Lake Charles, he was the first to try fried alligator. So naturally when we went to Victoria’s Taqueria (1004 Broad St. Highly recommended for good food and very reasonable prices.) for lunch today and he saw beef tongue on the menu . . . . Anyway, he said it was good. “A little chewy, but it tastes like beef.”

Did I mention my magnolia trees are blooming? Heaven scent.

Post-Conference Musings

2011-04-11T12:18:00.003-05:00

This past Saturday, my friend Bev and I attended Houston's Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) conference. As you know, I was spoiled in many ways when I lived in Pittsburgh. I attended the annual SCBWI conference in Pittsburgh every year from the time I started seriously writing until we moved -- a good seven years. The conference venue there was fifteen minutes from my home. After we moved to Louisiana in 2007, I missed my children's writer friends. There was no SCBWI chapter in Lake Charles. I had the choice of driving three hours east to New Orleans or three hours west to Houston. So, I simply didn't go. Until this year. Attending this conference was long overdue. I enjoyed myself. I met some folks. I learned lots and made those all important editor/agent contacts. Going with a friend made the trip tolerable (thanks Bev!). It was a long day, a long drive, but I believe it will be worthwhile and profitable in the long run. The first speaker of the day, author/illustrator Ruth McNally Barshaw of Ellie McDoodle fame, was both fun and fascinating. (Check out her website.) She had some great quotes, applicable to most anyone's life, not only writers.

Stay in touch with the child in you.

Take your pain and turn it into something beautiful.

Fall seven times, get up eight. (Chinese proverb)

Winners are ordinary people who kept trying.

For my readers who might be interested in some of the nuts and bolts of the other lectures, I hope to write a few posts for the other two writing-related blogs I contribute to; http://bayouwritersgroup.blogspot.com/ and http://bestdamncreativewritingblog.com/.

Natchitoches and Hodges Gardens Revisited

2011-04-03T20:02:00.010-05:00

Went to Natchitoches this weekend. I had intended to blog on Muggle Quidditch – that’s right, like Harry Potter. No, they don’t fly on broomsticks. They run on the ground. On broomsticks. It’s a bona fide sport. (Wrote a short article for Boys’ Life magazine on the subject. Publication date pending.) Anyway, Eric is on a (poorly organized and casual, at best) team at LSMSA. And we drove up to see him play. But the game, seemingly rather last minute, was cancelled. Therefore, the Muggle Quidditch post is postponed until a future date. So, we had a beautiful sunny day to find something else to do. We drove to Many (manny), thinking I could blog about that, but honestly, as we drove through this tiny town, I didn’t see a single thing worthy of mention. Many aside, our primary destination was Hodges Gardens. After visiting this State Park last October, I KNEW I had to go there in the spring, when the stage would be set, beds bursting in bloom. We were not disappointed. Azaleas and camellias presently star as featured flowers. But roses, irises, poppies, and snapdragons play strong supporting roles. Definitely worth the trip.

Back in Natchitoches, we enjoyed a fabulous dinner out on the deck at Antoon's Riverside Restaurant. After we took the boys back to the dorm, Bob and I went to Mama's Oyster House and listened to a terrific band called Hardrick Rivers, named after the band leader/tenor sax player, then spent a restful night at the Bayou Amulet Bed and Breakfast. All highly recommended! After a delightful breakfast this morning of rolled omelets, sausage, biscuits, watermelon, peach cobbler, juice and coffee, we went to First United Methodist, where Eric worships in Natchitoches. Awesome church! Mr. Rivers plays his saxophone in their praise band, as well.

What did you do this weekend?

Forest Hill, Louisiana – A Day at the Nurseries

2011-03-24T21:16:00.010-05:00

We’ve lived in Louisiana a few months shy of four years now, and I’d heard of Forest Hill. Anytime the subject of landscaping came up, we’d always hear, “Go to Forest Hill.” Ask a neighbor about a particular plant in his yard . . . “Got it at Forest Hill.” Complain about the prices at local Lake Charles nurseries . . . “You gotta go to Forest Hill!” We had no idea where Forest Hill is. But in my mind, it became a landscaping legend, a mecca for mulchkins, the holy grail of gardening. And thus I began my pilgrimage this morning with a few friends of mine. And I discovered that Forest Hill is not a nursery. Oh, no. Forest Hill (about an hour and a half northeast of Lake Charles) is a small town with a population of 400-500 people. And home to approximately 200 nurseries and garden centers! Where does one begin?

We started at one called “Harold’s.” The place is huge. You go into the office, tell the man what you are looking for, and he makes a few circles on a map for you. What fun, just wandering around, looking at plants! The four of us bought quite a few, too. The low prices here will blow your garden gloves off.

This time of year, azaleas and wisteria are in full bloom. They grow tamed and cultivated in yards or wild and haphazard in the woods and along roadways. Either way, it’s a beautiful sight.

We went to Poole’s, although I couldn’t tell you which one. Supposedly, there are several Poole brothers who each own a different nursery. One nursery is simply called “The Other Brother.”

We ate lunch at a delightful diner called Lea’s in a town called Lecompte (pronounced La-Count. Seriously)

As the sign says, Lea’s is known for her pies.

And ham. The ham was good. And I had lemon meringue.

According to this sign, Lecompte has a pie festival in October. Wonderful time of year for another road trip!

So, if you live anywhere in the state of Louisiana and want to buy plants, flowers, trees . . . “Go to Forest Hill!”

Hasenpfeffer, anyone?

2011-03-19T16:18:00.006-05:00

Here in southwest Louisiana, we’re always celebrating something. This weekend, it’s the Rabbit Festival in Iowa (pronounced I-WAY. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Just trust me.)

We saw typical festival fare. Vendors hawking their wares, live Cajun music, face painting, air brushing, pony rides. A carnival with carnie food, carnie rides, carnie games. And rabbits.

Rabbits to hold and purchase . . .

rabbits to win . . .

and rabbits to eat.

No, I didn’t eat any, but it probably tastes like chicken.

Mardi Gras in SWPA

2011-03-10T12:42:00.019-06:00

Mardi Gras in SWPA! The Dilmores traveled home to Pennsylvania for Mardi Gras this year. We were way overdue to visit family. Sadly, it is still winter there. It snowed all day Sunday.

But that didn’t stop us from having a Mardi Gras party. No parades, but we made masks . . .

wore beads and listened to Zydeco and Cajun French music . . .

ate King Cake and gumbo with potato salad . . .

But the best part was all of us being together.

Monday we drove to the city and spent the day at the Carnegie Science Center . . .

with my sister and her terrific kids.

The Science Center has, among oodles of other exhibits, a wonderful train display which is definitely the high point for my niece and nephew.

The scenes of this model train display fascinate young and old alike.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater is the newest addition.

Tuesday I did an author visit to the 3rd and 5th grade classes at my nieces’ school, Armbrust Christian Academy. Small school, small class sizes, only 8-9 kids per class.

Here’s a glimpse of Pittsburgh as we crossed the West End Bridge. The Science Center is next to Heinz Field, where the Steelers play. (See the white cone, right in the center of the photo.) The large building far left is the new casino. It took the city decades to get a gaming license. Here in Lake Charles, we have several casinos and another possibly on the way. I hear pro and con opinions on their benefit to the community. Pittsburgh readers, what are your thoughts on the new casino? Good or bad for the city, and why? Lake Charles readers, what do you think about the casinos?

I’ll end this post on a beautiful note . . . orchids blooming in Mom’s dining room window.

Planting, Growing, Reaping

2011-02-25T18:39:00.004-06:00

I’ve lived here almost four years now, and I’m still figuring out how to garden in southwest Louisiana. At first, I went to farmers’ markets and marveled at how early local fresh produce would appear on the stands. And that’s the key . . . start early. Last year I planted a couple tomato plants – late spring – about the time everyone else was already eating theirs. My plants grew, but never produced a single tomato. Once it gets hot, they can’t pollenate. So this past week (is February early enough?), I planted two tomato plants – one best boy and one grape tomato – and two red pepper plants. I bought some lettuce and spinach seeds, but after I read the package, I learned I should have planted them late fall/early winter and could have been harvesting greens the past several months. I did plant radishes a couple months ago, and have had a few mature. I also planted several broccoli plants and they’re producing more than we can eat!

This past late fall/early winter, I planted daffodil and iris bulbs, hoping for lovely spring flowers. But even though we technically had a "cold" winter, it was warm enough that that the bulbs sent up shoots immediately, though it was too cold for them to actually bloom. Instead of spring flowers, I have stringy dying stalks in the beds with no hope of blooms.

I planted a strawberry plant early last summer, obviously too late to grow any berries. The plant survived a hot summer and a cold winter, but it has yet to bloom. Not sure what’s up with that. We’ve got some blueberry bushes in the back, but the birds always get the berries before they ripen enough for us. And we planted a satsuma tree (Louisiana clementine) a couple years ago that seems to be more interested in staying a baby than growing up and producing fruit.

I’ve planted several herbs. Last year, the basil grew fantastic, more like a shrub than a small plant. But chives withered and died. We’ll see how I do this year with cilantro, cat nip, and again, chives and basil.

I’m learning what flowers grow well and when. Pansies are pretty all winter; snapdragons, not so much. Just today, I saw the first red bud tree in bloom. They take my breath away. Soon the azaleas will spread vivid fuchsia, red, and orange across the landscape. Not much survives the heat of summer except crepe myrtle, oleander, zinnias.

Gardening here, no doubt, will be an ongoing adventure. High on my list of things to do this summer . . . learn to compost.

What grows in your garden?

Lake Charles Art Scene on a Saturday Morning

2011-02-19T17:42:00.004-06:00

Andrew has an interest in photography, so today we made a trip to Old City Hall in Lake Charles to see Fragile Nature, a traveling exhibit by National Geographic photographer Joel Sartore. Sartore hopes his exquisite up-close shots of animals and their habitats will not only entertain but bring awareness to environmental issues. The show runs through April 23rd.

Up on the third floor we found another delightful exhibit, Fairy Tale Art -- Illustrations from Children's Books. (Through March 26) Naturally, as a lover and wish-I-could author of picture books, I adored this show, featuring selected works of eight well-known illustrators. My personal favorite is Jane Dyer. She's the illustrator of my personal favorite picture book, Time For Bed, written by Mem Fox. The boys and I wore that one out when they were toddlers.

For a little lagniappe, we went to Frazier Library at McNeese University, where there's currently an exhibit by several local artists including one of my favorite local artists, Imogene Dewey. Art is alive and well in Lake Charles -- there's always something to see or do. And the cool thing is, these events are usually free!

Beaumont, Texas

2011-02-04T18:28:00.012-06:00

Had to go to Beaumont, Texas today to get a new part for Eric’s MacBook. *TIP for Lake Charles area businessmen/women who are looking for a new venture . . . open an Apple Store! You’d have a monopoly on the market. Mac users should not have to drive an hour for computer service. Apple Stores are chic, sleek, contemporary, and inviting, if you’re the geeky techie type.

Like always, we try to morph a mundane trip into an excursion by patronizing a few fun establishments. While waiting for the computer repair, we got a bite to eat at (new to us) Geo Burrito, which is remarkably similar to a family favorite here in Lake Charles, Izzo’s Illegal Burrito, except there aren’t as many TVs at Geo’s. Essentially, it’s like a Mexican Subway. Very good. Eric had a burrito, Andrew ordered fully-loaded nachos, and I enjoyed assorted tacos.

For dessert, we went next door to Rao’s Bakery. Look at these beautiful pastries!

No, we didn’t buy pastries. We were there for the gelato. They offer the most incredible selection; raspberry, mixed berry, pear, lemon, spiced chocolate, coconut, mango, red velvet cake, tiramisu, cappuccino, mocha (is there really a difference?) just to name maybe half of the flavors. It’s so hard to choose just one. Thankfully they allow samples.

Why we wanted ice cream in this frigid weather, I don’t know. Because it’s delicious! I countered the cold with a cup of hot coffee. Here’s me sporting my new Polamalu t-shirt Mom and Tom got me for my birthday. Go Steelers!
I had to plead for the boys to pose on the patio with “the Blues Brothers.” They finally consented. They were cold. And I wouldn’t unlock the car until they did.

Bake Sale

2011-01-30T13:20:00.007-06:00

Last Saturday was Sam Houston High Band Booster’s annual Bake Sale and Barbeque. All band parents are expected to bake either a cake or two pies. Or for those not inclined to bake, a $12.00 donation may be made. Last year, I poured my heart into a pretty two-layer cake with colorful sliced gumdrops on white icing. My mother made me this cake when I was maybe 5 or 6 years old. The gumdrops look like jewels on a princess crown. To this day, it’s my favorite birthday cake ever. Anyway, back to last year, when I returned to the school later that afternoon to pick up my BBQ dinners, there was my cake, still sitting on a nearly empty bake sale table. No one had bought it. My heart sank. I told myself it was because I had covered the cake with that plastic wrap that’s kind of opaque, and no one could see how pretty it was. Nevertheless, this year, I considered simply writing the check in lieu of baking. Wouldn’t that be easier? But no, I decided I’d make a Pittsburgh favorite – jello cake. Jello cake, for my readers who don’t live in the ‘burgh, is a white cake with holes poked all over it, and liquid jello poured over so the jello sinks down into the cake and makes a pretty marbled effect. Since this is Mardi Gras season, I decided to make a Mardi Gras Jello Cake. I drizzled grape, lemon, and lime (purple, gold and green are Mardi Gras colors) over the cake and spread the top with Cool Whip. I had planned to decorate with purple, yellow, and green sprinkles, evenly dispersed over the cake, but Bob got to the sprinkles before me. With his hand, he deftly poured the sprinkles over the cake, and after about two minutes, this was the result.

Bob still surprises me. He still makes me laugh. He still knows how to make me smile.

By the way, it’s a bronco, not a horse. And notice I used clear plastic wrap this year. I don’t know if anyone bought it. I did not go back this year to find out.

Kemah, Texas

2011-01-22T22:39:00.008-06:00

Did you know that Kemah, Texas is home to the third largest fleet of recreational boats in America? I did not. Until I read it on the website. After having visited Kemah today, I believe it. Marina after marina after marina all look like this. I think more boats live in Kemah than people.

Kemah, slightly southeast of Houston, is a touristy summertime kinda destination known for its boardwalk, amusement park, shops, restaurants. And, of course, boats. Which is why we were there. Bob was boat shopping. He seems to be fond of this little one with the red tarp.

We ate dinner at a humble little Italian restaurant called Frenchie’s. Came highly recommended by the boat broker, and he wasn’t kidding. The food was fabulous. I hadn't eaten homemade gnocchi's since I lived in Pittsburgh. Not far away is Johnson Space Center. When you walk into Frenchie’s restaurant, there are many photographs of astronauts that have eaten there. Bob says, “Well, if all these astronauts have eaten here, the food must be out of this world.”

Haha.

We didn’t have time to stroll the boardwalk after dinner. Not this time. Maybe rather it was a lack of inclination. Like I said, it’s a summertime destination. This is winter. And right now it’s cold outside.

This may be the view out my kitchen window someday. I love kitchen windows. What do you see out yours?

Star Wars at the Lafayette Science Museum

2011-01-08T21:37:00.008-06:00

The boys and I drove to Lafayette, La. today to see the Star Wars: Where Science Meets Imagination exhibit at the Lafayette Science Museum. The show was larger than I expected, chock full of props, costumes, clips, and directors’ comments as well as plenty of interactive robotics and science stations including weather, biomedical prosthetics, transportation of the future, space and aeronautics and more. There's a Millennium Falcon simulation we didn't get tickets for and a robotics video we didn't have time for. The show ends January 17.

Looking at the displays, I realized there must have been a few Star Wars episodes I missed. I didn’t recognize the white woolly snow creatures. I’ve never been a huge Star Wars fan. My boys wanted to see the exhibit. But it did bring back memories. Star Wars was one of the first movies I saw at a theater without my parents. Jaws may have been first.

Here’s Luke Skywalker’s Landspeeder.

We also went to the planetarium. Nothing like a show on the stars, sun, and galaxies to make an earthling feel humble.

After our museum visit, we ate a fabulous dinner next door at Athena Greek and Lebanese Restaurant. Gyro, falafel, hummus, greek salad, and tiramisu . . . all delicious!

Got any Star Wars memories or stories you’d care to share?

May the Force be with you!

New Years Eve, 2010

2010-12-31T16:40:00.003-06:00

I'm not big on late-night parties, crowds of people, noise. But there's something about the New Year holiday I love. It's like a gift from the calendar. A clean slate. A fresh start. A new beginning. There's something forgiving about turning the page and putting the past behind. Like most folks these days, I shun resolutions, but around this time of year, I tend to think about how I might do some things differently, how I might change a pesky pattern of behavior. I want to be less critical of myself, and at the same time, I want to be better organized and more efficient with my time, especially the time devoted to writing.

But I'll think on that tomorrow. Tonight we say goodbye to 2010. And dream wishes for 2011. We've become so accustomed to staying in and celebrating the New Year with the boys, it's hard to imagine doing anything else.

How do you celebrate and what are your dreams for 2011? Whatever they are, I wish all of you a very blessed and Happy New Year.

Learning to Drive

2010-12-19T19:10:00.003-06:00

My sons are presently attending drivers’ ed. So far it’s only the classroom instruction; they’re not yet on the road. That comes the week after Christmas. Curiously, I’m not the slightest bit worried about this. Aren’t I supposed to be concerned? Somewhat nervous? But no, I’m not. Although I do foresee a whole new lineup of prayers on my horizon. Maybe I trust the boys and feel confident they’ll be good drivers? Maybe I trust the driving instructor? Maybe I’m delusional?

What a right of passage – learning to drive and getting a license. Does anything say freedom more to a teenager than a driver’s license? I remember my father, never one to procrastinate, taking me out when I was 13 or 14 years old to a dirt road way out in the country and teaching me to drive his puke green vintage 1957 Ford pickup truck. I liked it better when Grandma Lowdermilk let me drive her red 1976 mustang. When I was in college, Grandma sold this car to Mom -- for me -- for $1,000.00 and a waterbed. I loved that car and drove it till it rusted away beneath me and left me stranded on the roadside one too many times.

After getting my permit, I wasn’t a bad driver, but I recall side-swiping a telephone pole once. And there was the time I got a flat tire and didn’t realize why the car was swerving erratically until I arrived at my destination. I was a pretty good driver, but I failed my driver’s test first time around. In Pennsylvania, rather than take you out on the road to see if you really know how to drive, instead there’s a little maze behind the DMV that a driver-candidate must navigate through. Parallel parking and three points turns, no problem. But since I knew there were no other cars in the maze, I didn’t see the point of stopping at the stop sign.

How do they test in Louisiana? I don’t even know.

So tell me. Got any good learning-to-drive stories?

Getting in the Spirit

2010-12-05T16:15:00.002-06:00

After this weekend, I am officially in the holiday spirit.

It actually started last weekend, when Eric was home and we pulled out all our Christmas CDs, put out a few decorations, and decked the tree. Thursday at Sam's Club, I got my first whiffs of fresh pine from the trees and wreaths. Friday I started holiday baking by making two kinds of biscotti; cranberry pistachio and chocolate walnut. Saturday, I shopped, listened to the music, and watched the holiday bustle. Evening found Bob and I at Lake Charles' annual Christmas boat parade and fireworks display. We capped the night with a drive down Shell Beach Drive to gasp at the dazzling light displays.

It's a start but there's so much more; cards to send, gifts to wrap, more cookies to bake. The Moss Bluff Christmas parade (featuring SHHS's Pride and Spirit Marching Band) and a couple parties to attend next weekend. And Eric comes home for a month! I love Christmas. And in the midst of enjoying all the sights, sounds, and scents of the season, I take time to remember the Reason we celebrate.

How about you? What have you been doing to get into the holiday spirit?

Thanksgiving in Louisiana -- Vive la difference

2010-11-24T16:16:00.006-06:00

I love to compare and contrast the cultural differences between my home state of Pennsylvania and my new home here in Louisiana. I love the culture here and find it fascinating because it's so different and new to me.

Naturally, I've been thinking lately of holiday variations. Of course, there are many similarities between Thanksgiving here and back home. We are, after all, still in America. I have to remind myself of that occasionally. For example, most people try to connect with family, if travel and distance are not prohibitive. The holiday generally focuses around eating a large meal together. Sports fans rally 'round the television and watch hours and hours of football. And people go crazy to start Christmas shopping the day after. But that's about where the parallels end.

Here are some interesting differences I've discovered. Please keep in mind, these are purely my own observations, they're certainly generalizations, and there are always exceptions to any rules.

While turkey seems to be the protein of choice on Thanksgiving day, in Louisiana, folks seem to be more open-minded to other options. I don't think it would be uncommon to find something a hunter may have bagged, such as duck or venison, a nice pork loin or beef brisket. A little boudin on the side. Or a turducken.
A turducken is, as far as I know, a uniquely Louisiana delicacy . . . a chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey. All de-boned and stuffed again with dressing, usually rice dressing. I'd never heard of this until moving to Lake Charles. Our first Thanksgiving here, we bought one out of sheer curiosity. Frankly, we were not impressed. Not that it was bad, necessarily, but it just wasn't . . . good. And it was a mess. There was no way to slice it neatly. It just sort of fell apart on the platter. Since then, I've never heard anyone say they actually like turduckens. Yet thousands are sold this time every year.
Yes, Louisianians eat stuffing, or dressing, but it's usually rice. Maybe cornbread.
For some Louisiana families, Thanksgiving dinner is a big pot of gumbo and some pecan pies. Can't argue with that.
In Pa., from the time I was a kid, Thanksgiving break was always a long weekend, Thursday-Monday. Here, the kids are off the whole week. Add the two weekends on either end, and that's nine days off. Makes traveling for the holiday a lot easier.
In Pa., if I'm not mistaken, the Tuesday after Thanksgiving starts "hunting season." Lot's of men take this day off work, making the weekend just a little longer. The hunters in Pa. hope for a dusting of snow, so they can more easily track the deer. Snow tracks do not cross a hunter's mind in Louisiana. And in La., (I know this can't be true but it seems to me) it's hunting season year around!
Shorts and t-shirts. 'Nuff said there.

How about you? What are some of your Thanksgiving traditions, where do you go to celebrate, and what's on your holiday table?

Celtic Nations Heritage Festival

2010-11-20T20:00:00.012-06:00

Here in southwest Louisiana, we celebrate just about anything and everything, especially all things Cajun French. But Irish, Scotch, and Welsh? Yes, indeed. I went to the Celtic Nations Heritage Festival today in downtown Lake Charles.

Two outdoor stages provided continuous music and entertainment. Note the leprechaun leaning against the tree.

Vendors sold all things tartan, should you want a scarf . . .

or a custom-made kilt . . .

so you can dress like these gentlemen. I do love a man in plaid.

There were coats of arms and Celtic crosses . . .

bobbles and bangles . . .

a bakery booth that sold shortbread, “eccles cakes,” which are small round puff pastries filled with raisins and spices, and “drunken Scot” bread pudding, glazed with a deliciously sweet whiskey-laced sauce.

I watched a harp demonstration . . .

and a sheep herding demonstration. See the border collie in the background? They sure kept those sheep in line.

This was a popular tent.

I’m sure there must be folks in the area with some Irish heritage, but I can’t say I know any. I do have friends here whose mother’s maiden name was McDonough. But they’re Yankees like me.

Veterans Day -- 2010

2010-11-11T16:01:00.006-06:00

I’d like to recognize and pay tribute to all veterans today. Your service is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

My Grandpa Lowdermilk served in WW II. He never talked about the war. But I remember him sitting silently in his chair Saturday afternoons watching war movies. I have photographs, awash in duotone sepia and beige; Grandpa’s arms behind his back, hat cocked slightly to the left, his mouth stern, pensive -- he was so handsome in his uniform.

Andrew and I went to Graceland-Orange Grove Cemetery today to see the bi-annual Avenue of the Flags. It’s an impressive patriotic sight; a sea of 700 or so veterans' flags proudly waving in the soft breeze of a perfect fall day. Avenue of the Flags is the largest display of veterans’ flags in the country.

Sowing Seeds, Practicing Patience

2010-11-07T18:48:00.004-06:00

I took advantage of this sunny pleasantly cool fall day and planted 80 iris and daffodil bulbs throughout my yard. Can't wait till spring to see them in bloom. Talk about your delayed gratifications.

Which got me thinking of all the things in life that teach us patience. As a child, we go to bed Christmas Eve and wait for Santa -- could there be a longer night for a kid? As teens, we get our driver's permit at age 15 and wait till we're 16 to get our license. We take a test, such as the ACT, and wait weeks for the score. Later on, we apply for a job and wait for the phone to ring. We conceive a child and wait nine months to meet him or her. We're in a hurry to get in to town and wait for a train to pass in West Lake. We writers send off manuscripts and wait for editors' replies. Doesn't it seem we spend half our lives waiting? We plant all sorts of seeds in our lives. We wait. And watch them slowly grow.

What's been teaching you patience lately?

Hodges Gardens State Park

2010-10-30T14:01:00.009-05:00

Have you ever been caught off guard and surprised by a place you’ve never been before? Maybe you heard of a destination, considered going there for a length of time, but were always too busy or forgetful to make the journey. Once you finally get there, you wonder why you didn’t make the effort sooner.

This is why I love to travel and explore new (to me) places. Invariably, it will be different in some way than I’d imagined. Like reading a book with a fascinating unexpected twist, I almost always marvel at some unique discovery; a quirky gift shop or bookstore, a quaint main street, a unique character, a charming coffee shop or restaurant, a little-known tidbit of history, an irresistible photo-op. A fig tree.

And so it was Thursday when I motored north to bring Eric home. My dad and step mom are visiting from Pennsylvania this week, and I enjoy showing out of town guests this beautiful state. We started with lunch at Fat Boy and Skinny’s in Leesville. I highly recommend the freshly made hand molded hand cut hand scooped burgers, fries, and shakes at this gas station-turned-gastronomic heaven.

As we continued on to Natchitoches, we took a detour and went to Hodges Gardens State Park. It’s on the right hand side on Route 171 north, just before Florien. Built and opened to the public in 1956 by businessman A.J. Hodges, this Louisiana gem was donated to the state in 2007.

I’d read about this garden in my local newspaper, and assumed it would be nice. But its size (700 acres) and intricacy went beyond my expectations. The garden is beautiful. Even in autumn, so many flowers in bloom. The hills and lush pine forest of west central Louisiana take my breath away. And if Hodges Gardens can be this lovely in October, I can only imagine how stunning it must be in springtime.

Butterflies fluttered all over these pretty pink flowers. See the blue?

Here’s a shot of Dad and me.

And me, feeling happy to be in the woods. Where makes you happy or what places have you recently discovered?

Sixteen years ago . . .

2010-10-24T15:23:00.003-05:00

Is it possible it's been sixteen years since my sons were born? Apparently, yes. Sixteen years ago today. I remember the day, every detail, as if it were yesterday. Fortunately, the recollection of pain tempers over time. And all that's left is the sweetness. Does a mother ever forget the thrill of gazing into those precious eyes for the first time? Of kissing their button noses? Holding them close and never wanting to let go?

But let go is exactly what I've had to do. I've been missing Eric for two months now. And today all the moreso. I simply wasn't prepared to send him out into the world so soon. Is any parent ever ready? I've been reminded lately of Hannah in the Old Testament (I Samuel 1), and how she said goodbye to her son, "young as he was."

Eric is doing very well, thriving really, having fun and learning more than I'll ever learn in my entire lifetime.

I'd post a birthday photo, but Eric isn't home till next weekend. And Andrew has a recent aversion to cameras pointed in his direction.

DeRidder, La.

2010-10-16T20:09:00.009-05:00

I attended a writing workshop on plot this morning in DeRidder, Louisiana. Coincidentally, Andrew had a band festival this afternoon in same town. In between the two events, I had a couple sunny hours to explore!

DeRidder is the parish seat of Beauregard Parish, one parish north of my own Calcasieu. Like so many Louisiana towns, DeRidder grew up around the railroad tracks.

The original train station is now the Beauregard Parish Museum. In addition to loads of pioneer and 19th century memorabilia, this museum is home to an incredibly large doll collection. DeRidder has an annual doll festival. If you’re into that sort of thing.

The workshop was held in an art gallery, RAD, short for RealArt DeRidder. Several local artists have their works displayed there.

I ate lunch at Cecil’s Cajun Kitchen. I love chicken and sausage gumbo and wasn’t surprised to find it on the menu. The roux was thick and savory, plenty of good spice. But there was way more sausage than chicken, and I prefer the opposite ratio.

Of note is the architecturally Gothic jail house, built in 1914 and in use until 1984. On March 9, 1928, two murderers were hung from the top of the three story spiral staircase, hence the nickname, the hanging jail. Naturally, supposedly, the jail is haunted. Look at the bars on the windows. Imagine the inmates calling out to the townsfolk passing by. The building is currently under restoration.

Next door to the jail and connected by an underground tunnel is this impressive imposing courthouse.

Ha ha, it’s only October and Santa is spying on DeRidder already.

A Parent's Worst Nightmare

2010-10-09T10:03:00.008-05:00

Today I have a guest blogger, my friend Karen Raduenz. Like many of us, she had a child. A daughter, Heidi. But now she doesn't. Here's Karen's story in her own words.

It was around 9 am on Sunday, November 2, 2008. My husband had gone fishing with my father, and my mother and I were planning to attend church.

As I was getting dressed, I heard my doorbell ring. It was my daughter’s best friend, she was screaming and crying. I told her to calm down and tell me what was going on. She told me my daughter had been in a bad accident. She had been getting calls and texts saying my daughter had died.

She proceeded to tell me about the Halloween party my daughter had attended in Ragley. She then said that a group from the party was supposed to be going to eat at IHOP, around 3 am. Since there were too many people to fit in one vehicle, they took several. All the cars had arrived at IHOP except the one my daughter was riding in. The other friends were waiting for them to arrive, but when they didn’t arrive, or answer calls or texts, they went back to look for them.

When they got back to Ragley, they came upon a wreck site. They recognized the car as the one my daughter had gotten into. The State Police would not let them near the car or the wreck site.
I called my husband and told him what was going on and told him to come home. My thoughts were that she was really OK, she is somewhere else, safe and sound. After all, she was supposed to be spending the night at a good friend’s house. My neighbor came over to check on me. Other friends of my daughter began driving up and asking if the rumors were true. I had children all over my driveway, crying and distraught.

Moments later, two State Troopers pulled into my driveway. My heart sank inside my stomach. They proceeded to walk me into the house. My legs felt like Jello. We all sat down and a State Trooper handed me a cell phone. I picked up the melted phone and just looked at it, I was so confused. Then I saw her picture on the screen.

After that, my body just went completely numb. The State Trooper expressed his condolences, and told me that telling someone that a loved one, especially a child, had died, was the hardest part of his job. They remained with me until my husband got home.

The next few days were like a fog. I had never known what real pain felt like. Everyday, day after day, you wait for your child to walk through the door and tell you about their day, their problems, or just spend time and hang out. It feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. You blame yourself for not protecting them. You have bad dreams, and cannot sleep at night. You hear a song that reminds you of her, or you see her friends and wish things could go back to the way they were.

I know one thing for sure, you are never going to be the same person again. When you lose someone, it opens your eyes to love more, understand more, and never take life for granted. In the fraction of a moment, four children died in that tragic car accident caused by a drunken driver.

I am writing this story to go out not only to the young people, but also to the adults and parents. If you have been drinking, don’t drive. If the person you are riding with has been drinking, don’t get back in the car with them, and don’t let them drive. It could not only save your life, but possibly theirs or someone else’s life also.

There are always special events coming our way. Homecoming, Christmas, New Years, Proms, are but a few. Parents, please take the time to talk to your children about what to do in these situations. Tell them they can call you anytime, and you will go get them. Yes, it may not always be convenient, but it sure beats the heck out of not getting to ever see or talk to them again.
Parents, don’t be naïve, and think that your child will never do anything wrong. You must let your child know that you will love them no matter what, so that they will make the right decision when the time comes. And young people, don’t think that just because you’re young, that you are invincible, you’re not. Please think about the pain and suffering that your family will go through if something were to happen to you.

I hope my story encourages parents and children to communicate, and that friends will also think about the possible pain and agony that can result from letting someone do something that you really knew in your heart, wasn’t right in the first place.

May God Bless everyone who reads this, and guide them in their hearts, as to the right path to take, when faced with this type of decision.

Leesville, Louisiana

2010-10-01T14:58:00.008-05:00

On my way north to pick up Eric Thursday, I stopped to visit Leesville, Louisiana. This small town grew up on the lumber and railroad industries in the 1800s. It seems to be on a thriving upswing, beating the blight that has plagued Smalltown USA for several decades.

Leesville is home to Fort Polk, an army base housing 22,000 soldiers and their families. Economically, this is great for local businesses. I arrived in Leesville around lunchtime, and saw several men in uniform milling around, giving the town a patriotic feel.

The historic district, centered around Third Street, was once a bawdy, rambunctious thoroughfare, thanks to the military base. But the town washed its face, so to speak, and sent the rowdies over to Highway 171.

I ate lunch at Leesville Café, ordering the plate lunch (daily special, for my northern readers. Took me years after moving here to figure out plate lunch.) Beef tips, mustard greens, yams, cornbread – all good except for the cornbread, which was salty instead of sweet. I’d asked for the beef tips over rice, but the waitress brought them on mashed potatoes. Oh well. Must be my yankee accent. The topping on the apple cobbler so reminded of my grandmother’s – a sweet memory.

Then I set out exploring. The crown jewel of the town is the Vernon Parish Courthouse, built in 1910. Love the architecture.

I really liked this weathervane atop the Police Jury building.

The Imperial Hardware Store, in business since 1955, attracts a lot of customers. With its myriad of necessities and curiosities, it’s the kind of place I peruse in five minutes, and my husband an hour.

I was surprised to find a chic upscale boutique called Threads. Not my style of clothing and accessories, but interesting nonetheless.

There’s one art gallery called Gallery One Ellleven – no, not a typo, 111 is the address on Third St. – but despite the sign saying it should have been open, it was decidedly closed. Disappointing.

Another restaurant of note is the gas station-turned-burger joint Fat Boy and Skinny’s. Having some time to kill, I went there for a root beer float (with chocolate ice cream, of course). If I hadn’t been full from the beef tips, I’d have eaten a second lunch. The burgers smelled delicious, and the fries were fresh cut. I can’t wait till next time I have to pick up Eric, so I can stop there to eat.

Rita Who? . . . Five Years Later

2010-09-24T06:39:00.003-05:00

Today marks the five year anniversary of Hurricane Rita. "Hurricane who? What? When did that happen?" my northern readers might ask. Rita was the fourth most intense Atlantic hurricane ever recorded, at one point a category five; a category three at landfall. She devastated southeast Texas/southwest Louisiana; Lake Charles and coastal Cameron Parish in particular. And who, besides the people who lived here and either survived or suffered evacuation even knew about it? No one. Why not? Because Miss Katrina slammed into New Orleans just a few weeks prior. The country was still reeling from New Orleans' devastation, still glued to the horrific television images of people stranded at the Super Dome and the Convention Center, of folks stranded on rooftops, babies dying in the streets, the Lower Ninth Ward submerged. The country was so overwhelmed with Katrina's nightmare, no one noticed Rita. She and her path of destruction were, for the most part, ignored by the national media. So how could we have known?

I moved here in 2007; two years after Rita blew through. I remember being shocked that there could still be so much visible damage, even two years later. Blue tarps covered wind-damaged roofs. Billboards and business signs blown out. Once vibrant shops and storefronts boarded up. In Cameron, we saw hollowed out houses, shredded remnants of curtains fluttering in busted out windows; bare cement foundations which used to support homes; small cottages and vehicles tilted askew, abandoned, in the middle of marsh grass. And I remember feeling guilty, because I never knew. I prayed for the victims of Katrina. But I didn't know about Rita. I sent money to help the victims of Katrina. But I didn't know about Rita.

Most every resident has a horror story to tell. Of flooded floors and ruined furniture, lost pets, tree limbs shoved through living room walls. Of sitting in traffic jams for hours during the massive evacuation, cars running out of gas or breaking down, blocking the roads. Of returning to stinking freezers full of rotting food, and dealing with overwhelmed, overworked contractors, and FEMA, Road Home, and insurance nightmares. No electricity for weeks. Schools closed for a month.

For many residents, it's hard to believe it's been five years -- I'm hearing that alot. For some, it still feels like yesterday. One can still see a blue roof here and there around town. A few FEMA trailers still dot the landscape. But for the most part, Lake Charles and Cameron have done an amazing job at recovery. My previous post is testament to that. And certainly, there has been some help; church groups and college students spending spring breaks to work on damaged homes -- thank God for them. But by and large, these resilient people of southwest Louisiana brought about their own recovery, neighbor helping neighbor. Because the rest of the nation simply didn't know.

For my Louisiana readers, what are some of your memories of Rita? And let's hope we don't see another hurricane like Rita, or Katrina, in a very long time.

The Grand Reveal

2010-09-19T16:18:00.011-05:00

Friday night, Lake Charles hosted the grand re-opening of the Lakefront Promenade and dedicated the new Speckled Belly geese fountain and Bord Du Lac marina.

There was always a walkway there, along the seawall, at least as long as we’ve lived here. And while the lake has always been lovely, the lakefront was rather plain and functional. The city of Lake Charles decided to spruce it up a bit.

Just as Pittsburgh years ago had to overcome its negative image of a grimy soot-belching steel mill town by focusing on technology, healthcare, and culture, so too Lake Charles strives to downplay the petrochemical plant image and does a good job emphasizing its southwest Louisiana cultural heritage through the art community, food, music, theater, and festivals.

So in the name of city beautification and I imagine tourism, they barricaded the walkway behind chain link fence running the length of Bord Du Lac (the street parallel to the promenade) and set to work. One year and 4.9 million dollars later, the fence came down and the palm trees went up. The city hired excellent contractors. It really is beautiful. Boaters used to have to tie up together along the sea wall for events. Now they have this terrific marina.

They hired a local iron artist, Josh Guillory, to make these creative lampposts, benches, and tables. Decorative pole lights glow at night in alternating multi-colors, pretty as Christmas.

In addition to all the cool new stuff, there remains many nifty older attractions; fishing piers, Millennium Park, the amphitheater, the PPG fountain (not quite the PPG fountain in Pittsburgh, but there are always kids playing and cooling off here in the summer.)

. . . the war memorials – this helicopter Vietnam War memorial is fairly new.

I love this giant American flag overseeing the east end of the lake.

To all my out of town readers, come visit so I can show off the new Lake Charles Promenade!

He is the Egg Man

2010-09-11T19:19:00.013-05:00

We’ve all heard the reports about horrific chicken farms, birds living their entire lives in tiny boxes, fed unnatural foods, for the sole purpose of laying large numbers of eggs. And the stories of old eggs touted as “farm fresh,” sold far beyond their sell by dates. It’s enough to make a person build a chicken coop in the backyard. Or, if that’s not possible, find a local egg man.

It required some time and effort. For awhile, I took my chances on finding fresh eggs at farmers’ markets. But by the time I got there on a Saturday morning, the eggs were often sold out.

Then I discovered that a friend of mine from the gym sells eggs. How convenient.

Gary Brown lives three miles down the road from me on five acres. He cares for 70 chickens, plus a slew of baby chicks. “I’m from the country," he says. "I grew up with it.” Gary, originally from Singer, has lived in southwest Louisiana his whole life.

Gary feeds his chickens twice a day . . .

. . . and collects the eggs each afternoon. The number of eggs laid daily depends on the time of year. In winter and spring, the hens might lay up to four dozen. In the heat of summer, only about one to one and a half dozen. The chickens roost at night in the hen house, and roam outside, free range, during the day. Gary buys his feed from a local farmer, so depending on how the farmer grows his corn, rice, and other chicken scratch, I’d like to think the eggs are “organic,” but more important to me is knowing that the eggs are fresh and not from a disease-ridden fowl prison.

One of the biggest problems in chicken farming is dealing with predators. Fox, coyote, raccoons, opossums, owls, and chicken hawks. Gary tells a story of the time he once collected the eggs in the dark. He stuck his hand into a nest to pull out an egg, and grabbed a black snake instead. He once scared off an owl by setting off firecrackers. He’s shot raccoons and relocated chicken hawks (they’re endangered and thus protected.) A hurricane fence keeps out the fox and coyote. In case a predator sneaks in during the night, Gary keeps a baby monitor in the coop.

Does Gary eat the chickens? “I can sell a chicken at auction for $17.00, and buy a fryer from the butcher for $3.00.”

In addition to the chickens, Gary keeps a couple of turkeys . . .

a bunch of ducks and a peacock . . .

an emu . . .

two dogs, a black cat . . .

and a horse named Cinnamon.

From the Egg Man’s farm . . . to my kitchen.

Common Senses

2010-09-04T14:39:00.002-05:00

Maybe it’s my imagination, but I feel like my senses are heightened here in Louisiana, and not only the basic five. It’s curious that, for some reason, folks here are exceptionally directionally tuned in. We always know, and it seems to be important to know, which way is which . . . north, south, east and west. It’s as if, when you live here for awhile, an internal compass develops. And this awareness quickly becomes instinctual. Maybe it’s simply because the city lies more or less on a grid, so it’s easy. Maybe we’re all more aware of the sun. Maybe it’s a need to know -- where is the coast and where is the country.

When I’m outside, on a walk or riding my bike, I take note of the wind direction, feeling it on my skin and looking at the leaves on trees for signs of flutter. Unlike in Pennsylvania, where one takes wind direction for granted – it’s always from the west – here it can come from any direction. Every day is different.

My other senses have blossomed, as well. When I lived in Pittsburgh, I wasn’t too keen about spicy food. I shied away from the little red peppers on the menus at Mexican and Asian restaurants. But after living in Louisiana for three years, I say bring it on. Tony Chachere’s, Tabasco, and jalapenos. The spicier the better. To a point.

The scents in Louisiana keep my nose twitching. There’s petroleum processing at plants along I-10, leaking septic tanks in my neighborhood, cow manure and road kill on my bike rides. Oh, never mind that. The jasmine and magnolia make up for it. A steaming pot of gumbo on a cool winter day. Satsumas fresh off the tree.

A colorful Louisiana sunset, the stillness of a bayou, a fallow field shrouded by morning fog, the rollick of a zydeco band, the braying of a herd of donkeys on a farm one mile behind my house, a bucket of boiled crawfish with corn on the cob and potatoes . . . I soak it all in like the soft sandy soil here drinks in the rain.

What are some of your own favorite sensory experiences, wherever you live?

Gueydan Duck Festival

2010-08-29T19:55:00.014-05:00

Gueydan sits about 25 miles south of Jennings in Vermilion Parish. Pronounced gay-dawn, this small town is locally famous for its annual duck festival, to celebrate duck season next month. I thought that would be a good time to check the place out.

Driving east from Lake Charles down rural route 14 through coastal Louisiana, past fields of rice and soybeans, sugarcane growing alongside the road like weeds, it rained here and there, but the heaviest clouds loomed in front of us.

When we arrived in Gueydan, it looked like this.

When the rain subsided, we found the festival. Like the town, it’s a small affair, yet plenty of food, the usual southern Louisiana cuisine; crawfish balls, red beans and rice, pulled pork poboys.
We saw duck calls.

Duck decoys.

Duck carving.

Camo was everywhere; on everyone, everything, and for sale. One young boy donned a camo shirt, camo shorts, camo shoes, and a camo cap. I wanted to take his photo, but I feared his mom would think I’m a creeper.

There was skeet shooting.

A Cajun band, naturally.

A typical carnival midway.

And because it’s a DUCK festival . . .

Preservation

2010-08-21T16:55:00.006-05:00

I canned four jars of pickled banana peppers from our garden today -- first time I've canned since moving to Louisiana. Sadly, these peppers are the only thing I presently have growing in our garden. We planted tomatoes too late. We got only a handful of bell peppers. And that's all we planted. For some reason, our one banana pepper plant was prolific. I hope someday to have a large garden. And an orchard. Berry bushes growing along the fence.

There is something so satisfying about putting up, storing away, preserving summer's goodness for the lean winter months. Canning reminds me of my childhood, spending time with my grandmother. Corn, green beans, peaches, and tomatoes. She'd sweat in the heat of the kitchen, steam rolling off the vats of water baths, competing with the other women on the ridge to see who could amass the most jars. Grandma would line the basement shelves with the colorful filled containers like an athlete displays her trophies. Then she'd feed her family for a year.

Canning makes a woman feel industrious and proud. If she's particularly proud, or prodded, she may enter the fruit of her labors in the county fair competition, hoping to win a blue ribbon and recognition for her hard work.

What have you preserved lately? Produce, memories, words . . . ?

Extreme (Dorm Room) Makeover

2010-08-14T18:42:00.012-05:00

Is there anything bleaker than an unoccupied dorm room? Four bare blank walls, two beat-up beds, two empty desks, and two chairs. That’s it. Sparse and stark. Then two boys move in, bringing their belongings. Bedding, books, and backpacks. Posters and musical instruments. Refrigerators and snacks to fuel all those late nights studying. Carpets to cover the cold cracked linoleum floor. Sentimental items that remind them of home. And they settle into this new home away from home.

After getting Eric unpacked, we ate lunch at Lasyone’s (La-see-awns), famous for their meat pies.

Bob and I each had a crawfish pie and red beans and rice.

Eric had a meat pie and potato salad.

If you missed my earlier post on Natchitoches, you can read it here.

To get to Natchitoches, part of our route takes us through the Kisatchie National Forest. It’s a lovely drive.

We’ll see Eric again in three weeks. In case you were wondering, and I have to say I even surprised myself, I did not cry as we left Natchitoches.

Orange, Texas

2010-08-08T16:46:00.020-05:00

Cross the Sabine River on I-10 West from Louisiana into Texas, and the first town you come to is Orange. And you thought oranges only grew in Florida! I’d wanted to visit Orange since I arrived in SWLA three years ago and first heard about Shangri-La Gardens. (Because I miss Phipp's Conservatory terribly!) I can’t believe it took me all this time to get there. Of course, the dead of summer is not an ideal time to visit an outdoor garden. It was terribly hot to wander the paths. And there’s simply not all that much in bloom with this heat. But lovely, nonetheless. They offer a bayou tour twice a day, which I’d love to do, but we missed the boat. Literally.

Not sure the history of these bells.

This is some serious Spanish moss.

Purple martin mansions.

A blue bottle tree jungle in the children’s garden.

This is the coolest vine with orchid-like flowers called Dutchman’s Pipe. Bob and I had never seen one before.

We toured the Stark House. This gingerbread-adorned Queen Anne Victorian was built in 1894 by philanthropists William Henry Stark and his wife Miriam M. Lutcher Stark.

We enjoyed a fantastic lunch at Old Orange Café. Can't wait to eat there again.

Here’s a curious store called Farmer’s Mercantile. They sell seed, feed, whatnot and you name it. I found it fascinating – for about five minutes.

This is First Presbyterian Church of Orange, unique with its classic Greek Revival architecture. Quite impressive! Mrs. Stark donated the funds to have the church built, and promptly destroyed all receipts, as she didn’t want anyone to know how much it cost.

We also enjoyed the Stark Museum of Art. Well worth a visit. There are few towns I feel I must return to, but Orange is one of them. I want to take in a stage show at the Lutcher Theater, I’ve heard it’s quite nice. And I want to go back to Shangra-La in springtime – when the azaleas and camellias bloom.

Baby Turtle Finds a Home

2010-08-01T16:59:00.012-05:00

One day, as Bob left work, he spied a baby turtle in the gravel outside his office door.

“How did you get here?” said Bob. “And what are you doing? You can’t stay here at the plant. You’ll get run over by a scooter. Or fall into a bin of silica. Or stumble into a tank of chlorine. I know. I’ll take you home. Angie loves turtles.” So Bob picked up Baby Turtle and put him in his lunch box.

Once home, Bob found a large glass jar and made Turtle a nice home with fresh water and aquarium rocks. He placed a life-like plastic turtle in the jar so Turtle wouldn’t feel lonely. He fed Turtle some fish food.

Angie came home and she indeed loved Turtle. “Oh, he’s so beautiful!”

But Turtle wasn’t happy. He didn’t like fish food. He couldn’t climb the high slippery glass walls of his little house. His “friend” wouldn’t move and Turtle suspected he was dead. The fresh water soon turned muddy. And Turtle was hungry.

Bob looked online and discovered red-eared sliders are omnivores – they eat anything. So Angie gave Turtle spinach and a piece of sweet juicy peach. Bob gave him a broccoli floret and a chunk of chicken. But Turtle still wouldn’t eat. He wanted OUT!

So Bob and Angie put Turtle and his little house into the car and drove him to Holbrook Park. They found a nice quiet spot along the bank of the bayou. A spot where Turtle could swim and eat and make new friends.

After saying goodbye and wishing Turtle the best of luck in his future, Angie placed Turtle on the sandy ground. Slowly at first, then picking up speed, Turtle scurried to the water and dove in.

A small minnow immediately swam up to greet Turtle, and Turtle made his first new friend. (minnow in right lower quadrant)

“Nice to meet you,” said Turtle to minnow, “but right now I’m really hungry and I must find something to eat.” And off Turtle swam in search of food. (Turtle in left lower quadrant)

Hopefully, this blue heron didn’t find Turtle first.

Sulphur, La.

2010-07-29T19:24:00.013-05:00

Just west of Lake Charles you’ll find Sulphur, Louisiana. I’ve been to Sulphur many times, but the boys and I managed to find a few places we hadn’t yet explored. The Sulphur website claims this town is the 13th largest city in Louisiana with a population around 22,000. The thing is, there’s no “town” – no downtown, uptown, or town square – only three consecutive exits off I-10, with every business and chain imaginable, surrounded by a community. When I’m going to Sulphur and need directions, I ask “Do I take the first, second, or third exit?” And that’s pretty much all I need to know.

Sulphur became a town around the early 1900s and thrived on the nearby sulphur mines. The business became lucrative when German immigrant Herman Frasch invented a new method of mining the mineral. He pumped steam into the ground, liquefying the sulphur, then pumped the liquid to the surface. I wonder what the area smelled like then. I don’t know what year the sulphur mines closed.

We had lunch at Cajun Charlie’s. They’ve got a nice buffet. Good food. This was one of the first restaurants Bob took us to, even before we officially moved to Lake Charles three years ago, to give us a “taste” of our new home. I remember finding it all quite novel and fascinating, trying crawfish, fried alligator, gumbo, and etoufee for the first time, listening to Cajun music, seeing the antique pirogue (pee-row, a Cajun canoe) hanging from the ceiling, and browsing the gift shop. Mmmm, they have the best bread pudding. But is there something symbolic about a restaurant that sits right next to a graveyard?

There’s a little shop on Maplewood I’ve passed dozens of times and have always been curious about. Eighty One is an antique/gift/art shop that even the boys enjoyed browsing through. If you like fleur de lis, this is your place. They’ve got lots of them. Even now having been there, I’m still curious. I want to know why it’s called Eighty One. The lady working there said she didn’t know, that the owner will only say it’s his IQ. They’re moving soon to Ryan St. in Lake Charles.

We went to Henning Cultural Center, an art gallery with regularly changing exhibits. The boys enjoyed the current show, called “Chaos Theory.” It’s all comic strip and cartoon characters, super heroes, and video games.

Next door is the Brimstone Museum, dedicated to the history of Sulphur. We were told the exhibit is “in progress.” Currently, there are a few photos of the sulphur mine, early photos of the town, and a small corner of dental and medical equipment.

Thank goodness dentistry has made great strides over the past century.

Here’s a hunk of sulphur in a display case.

A real gem in Sulphur is Frasch Park. This complex is well-known for its ball fields. Many big-time little league championships are played at this facility. There’s a public golf course. I might play there someday. In the fall. When it’s cooler. But mostly we like the park for SPAR (Sulphur Parks Aquatics and Recreation), aka a waterpark.

Just down the road from SPAR is Winkydoo’s Malt Shop, a delightful ice cream parlor. We stopped on our way home. Awesome chocolate malts.

DeQuincy, La.

2010-07-18T13:12:00.008-05:00

I recently visited DeQuincy, Louisiana, a small railroad town that grew up around the tracks in the late 19th century. In the heart of town there’s a railroad museum.

From the outside, it appears to be large. But this museum, free to the public, is small and sadly in need of some serious TLC. Next to the museum several train cars stand guard. I suspect they may sometimes open these cars for viewing, possibly for groups, but the day I visited, they were locked up tight.

Each spring the town sponsors the Louisiana Railroad Days Festival on the museum grounds. Here’s a stage and backdrop.

If you’re hungry in DeQuincy, you’re limited to either the usual fast food, a couple of take-out BBQ joints, or a diner called Fausto’s. I enjoyed a decent burger there. Next door there’s a Dairy Queen. Big plus in my book.

Behind Fausto’s and DQ, you’ll find Nichol’s Dry Goods, one of those stores that sells just about anything and everything; hunting and camping equipment, home furnishings, gifts, school supplies and uniforms, jeans and boots. Lots of jeans and boots.

Miller’s Livestock Market is another interesting attraction. Auction every Saturday morning. Six bucks will buy you a cute baby goat.

Rayne, La.

2010-07-16T10:38:00.014-05:00

Rayne is known as the “Frog Capital of the World.” Each November, they have a Frog Festival. They crown a Frog Queen, have frog races and frog jumping contests. A frog golf tournament, 5K run, carnival, arts and crafts, music and dancing, a parade; the usual festival activities.

The frog theme leaped on the scene when Jacques Weill and his two brothers started a lucrative frog export business, shipping frog legs to restaurants around the country.

Rayne is also known as the “Louisiana City of Murals.” I’m not sure exactly how many there are, but they’re beautiful and everywhere in town. We stopped here on our way home from Breaux Bridge, and didn’t have a lot of time to see anything but the murals. But there are a few attractions in town. The cemetery at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church is the only graveyard in the country where the graves face north and south. It’s in Ripley’s Believe it or Not. There’s an antique mall and an old-fashioned five and dime store. Supposedly there’s a museum, but I couldn’t find out any information on that.

I’ll let the frogs tell the rest of the story. Keep in mind, this is only a sampling of the murals. In this first mural, you see the words Fais Do Do. Best I can tell, a fais do do is a Cajun hoedown.

I wonder which dogs prefer, the hydrant or the frog?

I love the way this frog looks like he’s crawling right off the wall.

Nottaway Plantation -- White Castle, La.

2010-07-14T09:03:00.011-05:00

A side trip from Breaux Bridge found us at Nottaway Plantation in White Castle, south of Baton Rouge. Nottaway was built in 1859 and is one of the more popular plantations open for tours in Louisiana. John Hampton Randolph came to Louisiana from Virginia to grow sugar cane and built this grand home along the Mississippi River. Here’s a view of the front of the home from atop the levee.

The Randolphs enjoyed their new home, hosting parties and entertaining guests, until two years later when the Civil War broke out. Mr. Randolph fled to Texas to maintain their livelihood, leaving Mrs. Randolph to run Nottaway, including over 100 slaves. Of their three sons, the oldest was killed in battle, one died of malaria before ever seeing combat, and the third survived and came home.

South side of the home.

The air here carries a subtle sweet scent, possibly from the acres and acres of sugarcane abundantly growing in this area.

View from the north side.

This ballroom highlights the tour.

Unlike many historic homes operated and maintained by a historical society or museum, this antebellum home is privately owned by an Australian investor, and it’s obvious Nottaway is a resort-style business. There’s a nice restaurant. A day spa, pool, gift shop. The management caters to weddings and other special events. In many historic homes, touching anything at all is strictly forbidden in order to protect the antiques and integrity of the home. But not here. Our tour guide carried a water glass and sat it on a piece of antique furniture in every room. You could see the visitors checking for water ring marks. All the bedrooms in the house, including those on the tour such as the one below, can be rented for overnight use. Just be out by 9:00 when the tours start.

St. Martinsville, La.

2010-07-12T08:12:00.008-05:00

Continuing south, Bayou Teche winds its way 16 miles and finds St. Martinsville. This quaint charming small town embodies the history behind the plight of the Acadian people (also called Cajun); their expulsion and trek from Nova Scotia to southern Louisiana in 1765. St. Martinsville contains an abundance of fascinating history – museums dedicated to both the Cajuns and Creoles (West African or Haitian immigrants), a State Historic Site with another museum, a plantation house tour and a farmstead depicting early Acadian life, the 19th century Duchamp Opera House and Mercantile, St. Martin de Tours Catholic Church – so much history that we decided to save exploring the majority of this town for another day.

Possibly St. Martinville’s greatest claim to fame is the Statue of Evangeline, the Acadian heroine immortalized by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in his 1847 epic poem by the same name. Fictional Evangeline and her beloved Gabriel become separated during the Acadian deportation. She spends her life in search of him. In the end, living in Philadelphia and working at a hospital for the poor, Evangeline finds Gabriel on his deathbed and he dies in her arms.

Based on this poem, in 1929 Hollywood came to St. Martinsville and made a silent movie starring Dolores del Rio. She fell in love with the Acadian people and donated this statue to the town.

Also impressive is the oak tree made famous by Evangeline’s saga.

This bust of Longfellow stands near the tree.

Breaux Bridge, La.

2010-07-10T20:27:00.018-05:00

Bob and I hit the road for Breaux Bridge, La. Thursday after he got home from work. We’d heard fun tales of this town, “the crawfish capital of the world.” Before writing this blog post, I got out my thesaurus and looked up synonyms for quaint and charming. I fear I’m beginning to sound redundant. But other words don’t quite give the same impression. Most of these towns I visit are, indeed, quaint and charming. This small town is no exception. Just a bit east of Lafayette and in the heart of Cajun French country, Breaux Bridge is named after its founding father, Firmin Breaux, and the bridge which crosses Bayou Teche upon entering the town. Note the crawfish sign at the top of the bridge.

We stayed at Maison Des Amis Bed and Breakfast.

Two hungry cats live in the back yard. And a fig tree grows with the most delectable figs hanging from its branches like giant teardrops of pure sugar. We plucked them from the tree and popped them whole into our mouths. Sweet! Here’s the view from the back of the house. The fig tree is center left.

And the view of the bridge from the gazebo. The bridge "sings" when vehicles cross it. The faster the speed, the higher the pitch.

This delightful town consists of a few restaurants, most notably Café Des Amis – more on that later – several gift shops, and oodles of antique stores. One can browse through Breaux Bridge an entire day. My favorite antique shop is Le Napolean, where I bought a lovely framed Audubon print of a roseate spoonbill.

For dinner Thursday, we ate at Mulates. Live music and dancing every night. Lee Benoit and the Bayou Stompers entertained that evening. Check them out here.

Folks in Cajun country sure know how to have a good time. In between numbers, dancers would sit down and grab a few bites of catfish, crawfish, or gumbo. Then back to the dance floor as soon as the band struck up the next tune. They danced a Cajun version of the Electric Slide which was great fun to watch. (Bob doesn’t dance.) The Cajuns exclaim “Ay-YEE.” Akin, I suppose, to the Texan Yee-Haw. Unless you know the language, forget about understanding the lyrics, but you can’t help but want to dance.

Upon recommendation from a friend, for dessert we tried the Praline Supreme. Vanilla ice cream topped with pecans and laced with rum that packed a supreme kick.

The “breakfast” part of Maison Des Amis Bed and Breakfast is at Café Des Amis, just around the corner.

In addition to the two breakfasts, we ate dinner there Friday night. Breaux Bridge being the “crawfish capital,” we ordered crawfish etoufee and it was fabulous. But the highlight of our visit to Breaux Bridge surely was Café Des Amis’s famed Zydeco Breakfast. Every Saturday morning, a zydeco band – today Same Ol' Two Step -- plays in the front window and the people come out to dance. Some eat breakfast, too. But mostly dance.

I ate a Cajun breakfast staple called couche couche (coosh coosh). It’s similar in texture to mediterranean cous cous, and essentially is grits cooked down till it’s thick and dry. By itself, it’s bland and tasteless. But I can eat anything if there’s enough milk and sugar on it.

The place is jam packed by 8:00. Standing room only. We were lucky to get a table. Amidst countless cups of coffee, (they ran out of mugs and served our coffee in a high-sided Styrofoam bowl) mimosas, bloody marys, and bottles of Bud Light flowed. Revelers so crowded the dance floor they could hardly move. But they managed.

Where else but in southern Louisiana can you have this much fun at 8:30 in the morning? I love this state!

Connellsville, Pennsylvania

2010-07-02T18:35:00.013-05:00

This week I’ve been visiting family and friends in my hometown, Connellsville. It’s difficult trying to be a tourist in your own hometown. It’s all too familiar, the interesting becomes mundane. Yet there are noteworthy sights in this small southwestern Pennsylvania town.
This corner of the Keystone State, nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, boasts lush deep woods, clear streams and rivers, and spectacular vistas. I love this part of the country – except in winter. Connellsville hugs a scenic section of the Youghiogheny River and is steeped in rich history dating back to 1806. Our tour starts with lunch at Canelo’s Mexican Restaurant. Great quesadillas and good guacamole.

We stopped at Connellsville Bottling Co., a beer distributor, so I could buy a case of my favorite beer, Penn Dark, made at Pennsylvania Brewery in Pittsburgh. A bit of explanation for my Louisiana readers . . . in Pa., one can’t simply walk into a grocery store, gas station, or pharmacy and buy a six-pack. No, in Pa., if you want to buy beer for home imbibing, you either have to buy it by the case at a distributor, or buy bottles individually at a bar at the going rate. When I lived here, I didn’t think much about it. Just the way it was. After living in a reasonable state for three years, I find the Pa. policy quite inconvenient.

As a testimony to the historical nature of Connellsville, this old train station has been preserved and currently houses an impressive stained glass store. Sadly, the store is going out of business.

One of my favorite things, and one of the things I miss the most, is the biking/hiking trail that runs alongside the river. In Connellsville, it’s called the Yough River Trail, but it’s a segment of the Great Allegheny Passage, a 318 mile long rail trail connecting Pittsburgh and Washington, D. C. I’d like to take this trip sometime in my lifetime. When we lived in Pittsburgh, the trail wasn’t quite complete. But we often rode the trail between Connellsville and Ohiopyle.
In 2008, the folks in Connellsville wanted to spruce up the trail, so they commissioned a few artists to create these beautiful works of art along the trail. The stained glass is significant because glass works play a role in Connellsville’s history.

It’s hard to see in these photos, but atop the paint on these silo-like structures are thousands of pieces of stained glass. Sparkly!

Next stop, the high school stadium and the “Johnny Woodruff tree.” John Woodruff is one of Connellsville’s claims to fame. In 1936 at the Olympics in Germany, this hometown hero won a gold medal in the 800 meter race. Each gold medalist received an oak sapling from the Black Forest, a gift from Germany’s government. John brought the tree home and planted it beside the stadium where he got his start. Today the tree is a historical landmark. I sold John’s fascinating story to Highlight’s For Children in 2008. Text of this article available upon request.

Here’s my alma mater.

And tomorrow I return to Louisiana!

Grove City, Pa.

2010-06-26T15:30:00.009-05:00

This week’s travel log took me to Grove City, Pennsylvania, where I spent the week at St. Davids Christian Writers’ Conference on the grounds of lovely Grove City College. My good friend Christine drove here and met me for lunch at Four Star Pizza. After lunch, we explored the town, starting at Marilyn’s Antique Shop. Super place to browse.

Look at these darling antique purses I bought there.

There’s an old time cinema, Guthrie’s Theater, still showing new releases – something you don’t often see these days. Across the street there’s a wonderful Christian bookstore. We went to Daffin’s candy store for dessert.

What’s a small town without a big mural, right?

This photo made me feel right at home.

Jennings, La.

2010-06-18T19:24:00.013-05:00

A thirty minute drive east on I-10 brought me to Jennings, Louisiana, the parish seat of Jefferson Davis Parish. It’s an old town, settled around 1881. It shouldn’t have surprised me to see the common Smalltown USA malady; closed store fronts, boarded-up windows, for lease signs. Yet it always makes me sad. But it’s obvious this town isn’t giving up easily. There are actually more small businesses in operation on Jennings’ N. Main Street than there are in downtown Lake Charles. I saw a general store or two, a couple dress shops, a children’s clothing store, a jewelry shop, a tanning salon, and a florist with a shop cat napping in the window.

They’ve done a great job dressing up the place with lots of interesting murals and this charming plaza where a sign says they have a farmers’ market each Saturday.

Jennings boasts three fabulous museums. The Zigler Art Museum houses a fine collection of various artists from Andrew Wyeth to Norman Rockwell and several local Louisiana artists such as our own Elton Louviere.

Walking over the threshold of the W. H. Tupper General Merchandise Museum takes you back in time to the early 1900s. The museum is a replica of how the store looked in its heyday. All the items are original to the store, and they sold a little bit of everything. Clothing, shoes, hats, tools, toys, tonics, tobacco, sewing notions and fabric, groceries, livestock feed. The store also housed the post office. This museum is a fascinating look into life in the early 20th century. And I learned something. Did you know Shinola was a shoe polish way back then? Hence the expression You don't know sh** from shinola. I didn't know that.

Behind the Tupper Museum you’ll find the Telephone Museum, a comprehensive collection of artifacts telling the history of the telephone. Here are two dioramas, one of Alexander Graham Bell, and a typical telephone operator.

Jennings is not the place to go for fine dining, it would seem. But I enjoyed a very nice lunch of shrimp etouffee at Evangeline’s Café and Bakery. The desserts are all made on the premises, so I couldn’t help but try one. I’ve always loved red velvet cake, and I enjoy cheesecake, but I had never eaten red velvet cheesecake. Until today. And it was delicious with a latte.

Cameron Parish

2010-06-11T20:44:00.018-05:00

Today Bob and I explored Cameron Parish. We've been on the Creole Nature Trail many times. Anytime we entertain out of town guests, we always take this scenic drive so our visitors can get a sense of coastal Louisiana. We started our journey at Hackett's Cajun Kitchen. I've driven past this restaurant numerous times en route to the airport. And it always wins awards in Lagniappe Magazine. So I've been curious to try this establishment, and it did not disappoint. The portions are huge, food is excellent, prices reasonable. We ordered plate lunches; Bob had shrimp creole, I had beef and gravy over rice, we both had banana pudding for dessert. And neither of us needed to eat the rest of the day.

From Lake Charles, at first, driving south is all about farms. Farmland, farm animals, farmers, fields. Then it quickly becomes all water and marsh grass. We drove through Big Lake, Grand Lake, Sweet Lake; places I've heard of but hadn't yet seen. They're small towns; schools, churches, farms. The requisite Dollar General.

This is a scene in Big Lake. Beach houses are so colorful.

Then we hopped on the Creole Nature Trail and headed south. This visitors' center is relatively new, and I've been wanting to check it out. I've heard it's nice. The sign said it closes at 3:00 on Fridays. We got there no later than 2:55. I think they left early today.

Cameron is not only the name of this parish, but also a small town. A very small rural coastal town that was basically wiped off the map in 2005 after Hurricane Rita. They've slowly been rebuilding. Hurricane Ike in 2008 didn't help any.

We found some fishermen on a pier. I'm not sure which was more impressive; the fish or this guy's sunburn. Yikes! (photo used with permission)

We saw lots of shrimp boats today. Fishing has not been restricted due to the BP oil spill on this side of the state. Some fish boats trolled. Hard to see it in these photos, but I think shrimp boats look like giant birds, with their nets fanned out and unfurled to the sides.

Others rested. We bought three pounds of shrimp here right off the dock. Doesn't get any fresher than that.

After Cameron, we rode the ferry over to Holly Beach. The Gulf was it's usual muddy self -- that's normal -- but fortunately there's no sign of oil here on the western edge of the state. Not yet. As you can see, I kicked off my flip flops and put my toes in the surf

Lots of pretty shells on Holly Beach.

From Holly Beach we head back north along the western edge of the Creole Nature Trail. The Sabine Wildlife Refuge is a beautiful place to bird watch, look for alligators, and feed mosquitos. I saw some nutria there once, too.

Bob and I walked out onto a marsh overlook. This guy knows the routine. When the alligator saw us, he immediately swam up and stared with those pleading eyes, begging like a dog.

We stopped in Hackberry for ice cream. First at the Exxon station, which advertised "ice cream cones," but their machine was being repaired. They kindly directed us to Brown's Grocery, where the self-serve soft serve machine sat next to the cappuccino machine. Chocolate or vanilla? I had a little of each. Bob held out for Winkydoo's Malt Shop in Sulphur just a ways up the road. I told him it would be closed in the evening. And it was.

Natchitoches

2010-06-02T15:50:00.013-05:00

Here begins my informal and far from complete tour of Louisiana. (See previous post) We ventured to Natchitoches (pronounced nack-a-dish) on Memorial Day to retrieve Eric after New Student Orientation weekend at his new high school, the Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts, located on the campus of Northwestern State University. Blessed by perfect weather, we aquainted ourselves with this charming town.

Natchitoches has the distinction of being the oldest town in Louisiana, established in 1714. Another claim to fame is that the movie Steel Magnolias was filmed here in 1989.

Upon Eric's recommendation, we had lunch at Mighty Max Superdogs. Great wraps, too.

Browsing the shops on Front Street.

The balconies over storefronts remind me of New Orleans.

Resting in the shade by the Visitors' Center.

Natchitoches thrives along the pristine Cane River.

A lovelyEnglish garden grows on the grounds of the Roque House, circa 1805.

The Roque House is a classic example of French Creole architecture.

Live oaks make for great tree climbing.

The great thing about Natchitoches is, we've got three years (Eric's grades 10-12) to explore this town.

Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts

2010-05-31T16:57:00.003-05:00

It's official. Eric will attend LSMSA starting this fall, and most likely, until he graduates from high school. He just returned from New Student Orientation weekend. His excitement over his new school has him downright giddy. Eric entertained us with anecdotes and every detail of his fun-filled weekend on the 2-hour drive home.

On a different note, I've been pondering what to do with this blog. I believe it needs a bit of focus and certainly some new life. I remember when we first moved to Lake Charles, three years ago. The family and I were mesmerized by the culture -- new foods, music, language, arts, the festivals, etc. We soaked it up like a sponge those first few months -- our "summer of immersion" -- traveling, exploring, tasting, smelling, seeing. And then we settled in and somewhat forgot that there's still a whole lot out there we haven't experienced. Next weekend, both Eric and Andrew report to McNeese University to attend the Governor's Program. They'll live there on campus for seven weeks. My census job will be finished soon, and I'm facing a summer with a whole lot of free time on my hands. So I've decided to discover and explore a new area, town or destination -- somewhere I've never been before -- at least once a week and blog about my findings. If you have any ideas of fun, interesting, exciting places I might go, I'm quite open to suggestions. If you are very familiar with or live in a noteworthy town and would like to be my tour guide for the day, that would be awesome! For example, I have friends in places like Dry Creek and Breaux Bridge. You know who you are. If anyone would like to accompany me on any of these excursions, you are welcome to come along.

My first such travel post will, naturally, be on Natchitoches, since we were just there, playing tourists, today. Look for this post within the next few days.

Bussing Blues

2010-05-18T20:17:00.003-05:00

So I'm on my way down Ernest Street to Central Library, not even thinking that it is 3:00 pm and there's one of the dozens of elementary schools in town about a block before I get to the library. Consequently, I must struggle through the traffic, stop/starting in the pick up line, and I'm in a hurry to get back to Moss Bluff to pick up my own kids.

Why are school buses so under-utilized here in Calcasieu Parish? Why do so many parents feel the need to drive their youngsters to school and pick them up at the end of the school day? The school district provides transportation! Do the parents not trust the bus drivers? Are they afraid of school bus bullies? Do they all have someplace they need to go immediately after the dismissal bell? These before and after school queues seemingly exist at every school in the district, be it elementary, middle or high school. Isn't it a waste of time and gasoline?

When we first moved here three years ago, I noticed this phenomenon and was appalled. Of course, Andrew and Eric took the bus to and from school. Despite the fact that they got home 45 minutes after school let out and the school was only 10 minutes away. But that's the way it was. Until this year. This past fall, the district changed the bus schedule for our neighborhood. Instead of catching the bus at 6:55 am, the boys would now catch the bus at 6:25. And instead of getting home at 3:45, it's now 4:15.

And that's where I draw the line. As a responsible caring mother, I can't with a clear conscious make my children lose an hour of sleep every day and waste another hour every afternoon. So there I am, sitting in the drop off and pick up lines every morning and afternoon with all the other crazy parents. I calculated I drive an estimated 100 extra miles a week (5+ miles to the school, 10 miles round trip, twice a day, 5 days a week) just to save these two hours a day. It's nuts!

Why can't the school district figure out a way to make bussing more user friendly? My advice to anyone who has children and is considering moving to Moss Bluff . . . find a house close enough to the schools that the kids can walk!

Mothers Day 2010

2010-05-09T17:19:00.007-05:00

Oh my, what a difference 15 years make. They don't fit on my lap anymore! And I feel so short next to them. Actually, the above photo was taken on Mothers Day 1996 when the boys were 1 1/2 years old, so it was 14 years ago.

We spent a pleasant Mothers Day; brunch at church, then hiked the Blue Trail at Sam Houston Jones State Park. A beautiful relaxing day.

Wishing all you moms out there a wonderful Mothers Day!

May Fifth

2010-05-05T08:15:00.002-05:00

May 5 -- so many reasons to celebrate this day. Several friends have birthdays today. And of course, Cinco de Mayo, a day we recognize and appreciate Mexico's culture and heritage. But the reason I'm most celebrating is because today marks one year since we brought Eric home from the hospital. I'm celebrating his amazing recovery. I praise God every day for healing. I thank God every day for life. Each day is a gift.

Tour LaFitte

2010-05-01T12:44:00.006-05:00

I rode in the Tour LaFitte this morning. I love organized bike rides. They're so colorful -- bright clothes and helmets, shiny bikes, enthusiastic riders. When you get a mass of bikes and bikers together, the display can be positively artistic.

Tour LaFitte is an annual ride held during Contraband Days, a Lake Charles festival celebrating pirate folklore. Supposedly, legendary pirate Jean LaFitte hid buried treasure in and around the murky bayous of southwest Louisiana.

Clouds threatened rain and we battled a fierce SSE wind on the first half of the route. But the rain held off and we had a terrific ride.

I know no one in the above photos, just random fellow bikers in the crowd. I rode with my buddy, Luke. Pleasant conversation melted the 27 miles away like ice in my Gatorade. When we finished, he and I both said we'll be up for the 40 mile ride next year.

Bike Ride on a Beautiful Morning

2010-04-25T23:25:00.003-05:00

I registered to ride in the Tour LaFitte next weekend. My distance choices were 10, 27, 40, 50, or 62. While I have ridden my bike as many as 75 miles in a day, that was several years ago. I haven't ridden more than 15-20 in quite awhile. So I chose the 27 mile ride. I told Bob I needed to make sure I could still do that distance, before I attempted the ride in public. This morning offered the perfect opportunity. The boys were in Dallas all weekend on a band trip. And the early sunshine beckoned us. A stiff breeze from the west challenged the first half of our ride, but we didn't mind, knowing the wind would be at our backs on our return. Honeysuckle seemed to bloom overnight and scented the air with spring sweetness. Bluebirds, cardinals, and jays crossed our path, singing and playing in the brush along the roadside. Vultures pecked at unidentifiable roadkill. Somewhere between our house and Sulphur, we stopped at a boat launch with a charming gazebo. A green gecko pranced across the rail, back and forth, flirting, and showing off his lovely orange throat. A fascinating large white spider-like flower grew along the water's edge. Does anyone know what this flower is? I wished I'd had my camera. Pollen puffed through the air in golden clouds, making our noses run. And no bike ride is complete without a few dogs chasing us down the road. Though the couple canines today were hardly menacing. With all that beauty, the miles passed quickly. I'm ready for next weekend. All I need is someone to ride with.

Census Trivia

2010-04-19T13:48:00.004-05:00

Sorry, but this is pretty much all I'm thinking about lately.

The first U.S. Census was conducted in 1790.
Approximately 47 million housing units do not return a questionnaire to the Census Bureau.
The government hires approximately 650,000 around the country to perform the task of collecting unreturned questionnaires. This is the largest peacetime workforce assembled at one time.
360 million questionnaires have been printed. Stacked one on top of another, a pile of these forms would stand about 29 miles high — more than five times higher than Mount Everest. Stretched end to end, these questionnaires would circle the globe three times. That's a lot of paper. And that's only a fraction of the forms. You should see my dining room, transformed into my "office." Piles of forms everywhere.
The above questionnaires weigh 11.6 million pounds and used 295,259 pounds of ink.
Taxpayers would save 1.5 billion dollars if everyone completed and mailed back their census questionnaire. Receiving census forms by mail is much less expensive and saves taxpayers approximately $85 million for every percentage point increase in the national mail participation rate.
It costs the government 42 cents to process a mailed-in questionnaire and an average of $57.00 if a census worker must go to the home.
The national percentage of households who have returned their questionnaires as of today is 69%.