Up a Clark Creek, With No Paddle

Hey.


It's me.


You know, the one who never blogs anymore.


Here I am ready to blog. I'm ready to blog in full force.


Here I go....


So we're planning our annual trip to Clark Creek tomorrow.


It's a birthday thing for me. And I love it, I really do.

I realize this is three weeks after the fact. But Jason couldn't be there for my actual B-Day and so it had to be pushed back several weeks. So we waited till all the stars could align and three people who made it so awesome last year could be there again (Sally, Anna, and Jason) and we could add new people to the mix (Keever and Bobby).


I'm always really excited the day before. This is natural. It's a big deal this trip we take.

Three hours to get there if we remember to bring the directions this time. We never do. Last year, we ended up on a ferry to St. Francisville and still can't for the life of me figure out how we ended up on a boat. I've never taken a boat to Clark Creek. Ever. But I did, last year.


The year before that, Jason and I were halfway to Baton Rouge before he asked me for the directions. Naturally I should know. He had never been there and I had been several times. All I could give him was a shrug of the shoulders as I sunk down slowly in my seat. Quickly turned my eyes to my window so I couldn't catch his "Oh my God, you forgot the directions" face. I guess you can sense how that went over.


We almost killed each other.

Then, we called every person we knew who would be up at eight a.m on a Saturday morning. I know I wouldn't, if it weren't a Clark Creek day.


We begged them to turn their computers on and google, please google Clark Creek for us.


It was tough. But we made it there. Alive. Still together. In one piece.

And this is just getting there. What happens when your there?


 








Well the first time I brought Jason to Clark Creek, he was exhausted after the first five minutes. You might laugh. But it's pretty intense. I felt the same way. You're trekking across boulders. You're swinging from ropes. I'm sure Indiana Jones trained here before he was Indiana Jones.


You get attacked by sand flies. Prime example, Anna, one year ago. Went out there with freshly shampooed wet hair. The kind of hair that sand flies go gagas for. She was tough, my Anna Marie, fought them off like a trooper.

And the snakes?


Yes they're everywhere. Sleeping peacefully between rocks. Waiting for you to slip and step on them. : )


And the waterfalls?




If you're not careful, you could become part of the waterfall, or slip into the ice cold water miniature lake it makes when it hits the ground .....or be pushed into the ice cold water...prime example, Anna, needed her sister's help. Received a push down, not a pull up and fell right in. Hey, it's survival. 
 Yes, survival.

Am I nervous for our newcomers? (Keever and Bobby) 


Yes :)










Do they know what they signed up for? 


Probably not. :)


Will there be war wounds? 

Hopefully not! but this is nature we are dealing with! See these pictures off to the side?


See Sally with her foot jammed into the quick sand like mud? Yep. It happens every time. It took us ten minutes to retrieve her leg.

And see this picture of Sally, Anna, and me, arm and arm, happily skipping through Clark Creek like it's the yellow brick road. See the excitement on my face. My happy smile. My over enthusiastic expression. Then see Sally's leg and the position its in? This is moments before it comes smashing down on my leg with its cleat-like shoe bottom. I don't have a picture of the agony. But I tell you it was bruised for weeks. 


But it was worth. Worth it for Clark Creek.


I let you know how it goes. :)

Follow-ups, Easter egg hunts, and a birthday

First I just want to say a super huge thanks to my sister-in-law Robin who came to my rescue for the rosary I hosted at my house a few Thursdays ago. Robin gave me a dinner course and a dessert which I am very excited about cooking. I wasn't able to make either one because I was in a terrible time crunch and the meat had gone bad! I ended up making my black bean soup featured earlier in this blog. Click here. It was a huge success and I was super proud of my stealth-like cooking skills. I made my soup and fantasic green onion and artichoke dip in just under an hour. I was, well, a complete mess as my relatives arrived at 6:30 but no one seemed to notice that I managed to splash black been soup all over my sweater. I didn't even remember putting a head band flower in my hair. I guess I was in serious focus mode or maybe its just a bad habit. Who knows? I've posted the pictures from this gathering below. :) There was absolutely no soup left, so I'll check that off as successful.

Here's some photos from the rosary at my house.

My mom and me....and my crazy flower headband that I can get enough of.

My uncles enjoying the black bean soup!

Everyone in the kitchen likes it too!

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I had a birthday.


It was really lovely. Very busy. And fun.


On Sunday (my birthday-eve), I went over to my friend, Elizabeth Ray's for a Southern themed Easter party.


I wore a flower dress and flower head band. (I can't get enough of flower head bands). All the other girls wore bonnets some with flowers and some with stripes.


We sipped Mimosas, we brought our finest dishes, and we ate with delightful pink plastic forks on Easter inspired paper plates. The hostess with the mostess sported a pretty bonnet that was certainly enviable. She toted around a china tea cup filled to the brim with mimosa. :)


We feasted on our Thanksgiving-like meal till our bellies hurt and moved our party down the stairs and outside to enjoy the spring weather. We talked in Southern accents. Gossiped non-stop while lounging on New Orleans' Spanish style iron chairs. Held our hands over our eyes to shield them from the bright pre-summer sun. It was too hot in its beams, but the wind in the shade made it cool enough for a light sweater.


It was, you guessed it, a lovely occasion.


And then there was the Easter egg hunt.


Our hostess ushered us back up the stairs where we anxiously waited for her to hide the eggs.  We gathered around while our she hid each one and then descended when she rang a kitchen bell.


And before she could wave us off on the hunt, we bounded through her backyard garden. A backyard garden unlike anything I've ever seen.


Pots and more pots with overflowing plants of herbs and flowers. Flowers in yellow, purple, and red. Plants that were decorative and some that were functional. Parley, rosemary, basel, and thyme. In pots together and sporadically planted in the yard. Tomatoes and cute little strawberries.


Like children, in a mad-dash fury of determination, our eyes scanned the backyard for the obvious eggs. Give-away eggs that would stocked up our pile. Our attention then turned to the serious eggs. The eggs meant to fool and that kept you guessing. Frantically pulling back leaves and lifting up grass, we scoured the land to find every last one. We trampled over each other and stumpled through the yard. Our eyes never lifted in the search.


And finally it was over.


But of course it wasn't.


It spiraled out of control.


Egg hunt after egg hunt.


Teams and then face-offs.


Some eggs were three points and some became two.


We couldn't stop ourselves. It was the most addictive game of Easter egg hunting in history.


Finally after too many egg hunts, I called it quits. Intuition told me it was close to masquito time. I bid my Southern friends fairwell till the next time, gathered my chocolate bunny prize and headed home.

                                              

                              

     

                               

                              

                           

                           




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On my birthday, my friend Keever and I did what I love to do.


We went to TJ Max. :)!!!


I love TJ Max.


More than anyone will ever know.


I thought it was pretty ironic that someone at the Southern party the day before, mentioned that a true Southern woman finds some way to drop TJ Max in conversation. And my dear friend Eray's jaw dropped and she pointed at me, accusingly.


Me, drop Tj Max in all my conversations?....well I never!


But I guess I do. A little.


After hours of looking at shoes, dresses, and home decorations (because that's what I love most). We finally called it quits and set off for our next destination.


Plants.


Do you remember when I said I was going to be planting a spice/herb garden and that I was going to be hauling dirt and making a crop field in my backyard?


I lied.


I bought a bunch of pots instead. I bought four of them. (Yes, at TJ Max.) Because why should I have to tear up weeds to get what I want when I can just plant them in pots?


So the plant department at Lowes was our next destination.


Parsley, thyme, cilantro, basal, chives. These are all the herbs that I found. Some I really wanted but they didn't have them (Rosemary, Sage).


I planned to shove three or four in one pot and the chives in a pot by themselves.


Before heading home we thought about going to Handcock fabric. (Another thing that I love). I haven't started sewing again. I say "again" because the last time I was a crazy sewing fool was when I was a kid and I was sewing up doll dresses on my great Aunt Edna's sewing machine. Well, now I think about sewing and that makes me plenty happy enough. I even bought a sewing machine and that made me even happier. But actually sewing? I'll get there, one day.


We pulled up with Hancock with purpose. Keever needed to pick fabric to recover her dining room chairs and I was there for moral support.


And to dream of sewing.


Because that's what Hancock's make me do. I envy all those bobbin experts in there. I always try to look like I know what's what in there but I know they can spot an impostor any day. And I am an impostor. I'm just someone with an unused sewing machine.


Okay I have two! Two sewing machines. I bought a desk a few months back at an estate sale and there was a sewing machine inside! Who knew? So with two sewing machines there should be no excuse.


But there always is.


We picked some beautiful flowery fabric that was, in my opinion, very Southern Living.


I have a picture of what they ended up looking like.

There was no sewing involved. Just a staple gun and some scissors. I was pretty proud of us.


When I got home I had found two presents on my porch. One from Ms. Sandy, my neighbor, and one from my Nicole, my b.f.f. from the 1st grade. I was so excited. Presents on my doorstep!! 


I went around the back of the house and started planting my plants in the pots that I got.


Halfway through my spice planting frenzy, Ms. Sandy came around the house and presented me with birthday cake and ice cream. "Oh Lord," she said. I looked up at her, covered in dirt, shoveling a hole for my Basil and swatting Murphy in effort to keep her from eating the chives. "Well, um. I brought you some cake and ice cream."she said smiling.  I guess I was a sight, covered in dirt the way that I was. I thanked her a whole bunch for it and went inside to put it away for when I wasn't completely covered with dirt. I love Ms. Sandy, she makes birthdays so special.


I ended my birthday with birthday cake at my mom's house. It was just my mom, my dad and me but it was still nice. We sang happy birthday and had heaping slices of cake.


Cake and Ice Cream, Presents on my doorstep, Tj Max, Hancock Fabric, Plants in Pots. A Southern-themed party?


I'd say it was a pretty great birthday!

Murphy Jane Lorraine

Murphy Part 3-----------------------

For Murphy Part 1 click here

For Murphy Part 2 click here

If you're tired of reading about Murphy and want to read about another cat click here

Okay back to Murphy Part 3

After Murphy's first visit to the vet there were plenty of other times that I took her over there.

Remember how I said I was a nervous wreck. Well, its true. I was.

She threw up, I took her to the vet.

She looked sick, I took her.

In the first few months I had Murphy's side of the medicine cabinet and mine.

Every time we went, it was more expensive then the last. 

One trip to vet sticks out more than the others in my mind.

I was waiting tables at the time. Just after I had finished undergrad. There was a six month period of time before I started graduate school that I filled with table waiting. This is actually when I met my husband, but I'll save that story for another day, another time.

Anyway, one Friday, I was working a double, meaning I was working all day and night. It was a super busy weekend and I ended up making the most I had ever made working a double. I was so proud of myself. It seemed like the perfect way to start the weekend.

On Saturday, I worked the morning shift and made it home about  two or three in the afternoon. As soon as I got home I had planned to change and the rest of the day was mine to do whatever I wanted.

Or course, that wasn't the case.

When I walked in the door, my roommate came out of her room and said that she thought something might be wrong with Murphy. She's been laying down all day, she said. And her stomach is huge. She cries when I pick her up.

Oh man.

So I found Murphy in the living room laying on the floor. Big belly Murphy. Crying when I pick her up Murphy.

Then I thought what someone like me would think. The worst.

She must have swallowed something, I wondered out loud. It must be stuck in her tummy. My roommate agreed.

But what?

I rushed her to the emergency vet. There was no time to lose. Murphy could die if something is stuck in her. I can't lose her yet.

I hightailed it to the vet. Big belly Murphy clawed into the headboard of my seat. (I never learned from our first vet visit to bring a cat carrier)

With Murphy clawed into my head I ran into the vet. Obviously Murphy was bigger these days so the weight of her made me have to tilt my head to the side. Walking up to the desk, I explained that Murphy must have swallowed something. She's stomach is horribly big and she cries a lot. Please look at her, I'm worried. Please remove her from my scalp.

The woman sympathetically takes Murphy back and I sit down in the seat worrying what surgery might cost is she can't throw it up. Or pass it. Gross.

Was it money she swallowed? Her favorite purple ball? I haven't seen it a while.

Minutes turn into an hour and I'm waiting and waiting.

And waiting.

Finally someone comes out. The doctor. He says it looks like Murphy may have something in her stomach. I did an X ray, he tells me.  (In my mind, I'm wondering how much X rays cost these days. Whether I'll have to take out a loan.)

What will you have to do?, I ask him. I don't really want to know the answer. I know its an answer that costs a lot.

Surgery. He says.

I'm sweating. 

And Surgery, um, what would that run me. I mean, a thousand bucks, several hundred....my left arm.

It could be close to a thousand, he tells me. 

I swallowed hard and nod my head. I need a minute. I walk outside and he walks back to where ever Murphy and the X ray machine are. I guess prepping for surgery. It was all such a blur.

Outside, it didn't help that it was a beautiful day outside. I was sweating, nervously pacing. Dialing my mom's number on my cell phone.  Please mom pick up. She did and then I lay it all out there for her. Murphy has to have surgery, I say, She swallowed something. It could be a thousand dollars. I think I'm going to throw up. I'm crying and she tells me to calm down. Talks me through it like she always does. Don't worry about she says. I pull myself together (I seem to do that a lot in these blog entries. I hope I don't sound like a basket case.) and  I walk back into the vet waiting room.

I sit down in the chair and wait. I'm not sure for what.

The doctor comes out.

Mam, I'm sorry, he tells me. We won't be needing surgery. (I perk up) You see we thought something was in there, but it turns out that there wasn't. It was.....

It was just gas.

Just gas.

Gas.

Just gas?, I ask him.

Yes mam, I'm sorry.

I'm not. (me-- Carrie-- the one who almost spent a thousand bucks on Murphy surgery)

I want to hug him but that would be weird.

They bring Murphy out and she crawls up on my head. Little belly Murphy. I guess I can figure out how they came up with that prognosis.

I walk over to the counter and I ask how much her x ray will be.

The woman gives me an amount. The exact amount I made on my Friday. Sigh.

I pay her and leave. Balancing Murphy on my head. I slide into my car and let her sit on my headrest.

Sitting in my car, I had an epiphany. I will give it a few days. Whenever she gets sick I won't take her. I'll just wait. You know what? It worked out. Murphy saw less of the vet in the years following and we both seemed to do okay.

But one day Murphy really did swallow something. But more on that later. :)

Hostess with the Mostess

So I'm hosting my first rosary.

And I admit I'm pretty nervous about it.

Every week for two years, my family gets together to pray the rosary. We started doing this when my Aunt Carrie was sick and we continued on with it after she passed away. It was something she really wanted and it has been a giant blessing for the family. Every week, I get to see my family, pray for them and with them, and I get to eat really great food.

It used to happen on Wednesdays but now it happens on Thursdays. We meet at 6:30, at different house every week- sometimes it is at my mom's and sometimes it's at one of three other homes of family members.) 

We drink some wine, sodas, beer, etc. We stand or sit around and we update each other on what has transpired since the last rosary. We laugh, we hug, we encourage. And then we sit down to pray. My dad goes through the super long list of intentions and then we focus on prayer. 

Then we eat. 

And when we eat it is never something thrown together. Nope. Whoever cooks, always out does themselves. You see, everyone in my family is a fantastic cook. So you can see why I'm sort of sweating this one out.

At this week's rosary, it was suggested that I host the next rosary. Nothing permanent.  I guess they needed a filler for next week. Someone couldn't do it. So I'm going to do it. Yep. 

What am I going to cook?

I don't know.

I really can't think of anything.

What am I going to do?

Okay its sounds a lot like I might be panicking. I'm not. But I really want to impress my family. I want them to leave my house patting their bellies. I want them to say things like:

"that was the best ____________ I ever had."

"Can't possibly eat another bite...But can't help myself".

"did Martha Stewart make this? I mean, really!"  (wishful thinking, I know.)

I want them to make the humming sound when the food hits their mouth. I want them to squint their eyes and do the head nod while they chew.

Is this too much to ask?

So I'm racking my brain....

Warm or cold food?

Chips with what dip?

Theme or no theme? - Should it be a Saint Patrick's theme dinner? Should everything be green? Do I want everything to be green? Should I dye things that aren't green, green. I think about my delicious creamy onion and artichoke dip..... dyed green. It would look like....well no one would eat it.

So what to do?

Your thoughts. I have less than week to put something together.

I need a dinner.

I need a a dip.

I need a dessert.

For ten or more people.

Help.

Where have I been?

I'm pretty happy and excited about so many things right now, I thought I might share.

• First, I finished my wedding thank you notes. What a gigantic relief. I don't have an exact number but I think between showers and wedding I wrote about 200 thank you notes.

*Disclaimer #1  10 of your husband's thank you notes is so not equal to 190 of your thank you notes. In other words, your husband may act like he climbed Mount Everest by writing 10 thank you notes and you don't have the heart to tell him that not only did you climb Mount Everest with your thank you note writing, but you circle the world three times  by foot, boat and train. But um, whose really counting anyways. ;)

• Secondly, I've decided to plant a spice and herb garden.  I've enlisted the help of my husband. He has no idea. Should be interesting and I promise to write about the whole thing. From ripping up weeds, to hauling dirt, I will give you the 411 on planting your very own herb/season garden. I may inspire you to never want to go down that road. Or your thumb might turn green just reading my blog about gardening. Who knows.

* Disclaimer #2 Is a spice different from a herb? How should the heck should know? I guess I'll find out.

• Thirdly, is a holy cow for me. I have discovered with great joy that All Recipes.com can produce a shopping list for me. Is this a miracle? Yes. It is. Do I want to run outside and scream it from the top of the highest levee?? Yes I do. Let me elaborate:

You simple go to allrecipes.com. Create a user Account. Pick a recipe you want to cook. Click Add to my Shopping List. Then you go to your shopping list and...Bam you have a shopping list. WOW. It even tells you what isle its on. High five to those bunch of geniuses. Sheesh.

*Disclaimer- not all the recipes are good. Even after I sort through the ones that have 50+ good reviews I still find that there is not so much kick to the things I cook off of there. What does this mean? I'm guessing that a bunch of Northerners are the ones putting their recipes on there! Shame on them for not using more red pepper, garlic, peppers in general, Tabasco sauce and Tony's. Just so you are aware you'll have to tweak the recipes a little. Does this explain my husband's sudden problem with heartburn since we've married? Nope probably has nothing to do with it at all. Why blame myself? :)

• Fourthly, I've been a bike riding fool lately. Jason and I, with our specially made bikes, have been biking up a storm. 

Bike to the grocery?

Why not.

Bike to another city?

Another city here we come.

Ride bikes in New Hebron like we're kids again?

Yep that's right.

I've never biked so much in my life. I feel like a kid again when I ask Jason if he wants to ride bikes after work. I might as well say after we do our homework. Or before my mom calls me in for supper.

*Disclaimer #4 - Never become a bike riding fool and not where a helmut or a hat. A bird pooped on my head the other day and I sure wish I had been better prepared for that. First time in my life. When it happened we were too far from my house to turn back. So I road my bike around with poop matted in my bangs. It was great. Do you think my husband was sympathetic? No he said, 'that's Karma'. :)

• Fifthly, there is no fifthly. That's all I can come up with at the moment to say that I've been busy keeping busy.  :) But I promise to write!