She Calls Me Auntie Robynn, Too

And she is Matt (the incredible pianist’s) lovely sister.

As if all his talent weren’t enough for one family, there is also an amazing and heart-stirring dancer in their midst. She has been dancing for most of her life and will soon join a professional company, the culmination of a life-long dream. This video, showcasing a dance choreographed entirely for her, just became available thanks to another talented young man in our midst who is a videographer and short-film maker, Jacob Holly.

I wish I could show you how truly versatile she is but most dances are copyright protected and, therefore, cannot even be filmed. She is STUNNING as a classic ballerina and in the next moment can wow you with a flashy Spanish dance complete with vibrant colors, castanets, and attitude that owns the stage.

We love to see her dance. We are excited to see her go and live out her dream. And we refuse to forgive her for leaving us. What the HECK? You homeschool them all these years only to raise them and find they go off to have their own lives? What were we thinking, Christina? I do believe our grandchildren (when we get some) should be fed only Doritos and Ding Dongs while they sit for hours on our laps watching cartoons. This “acting in their best interest thing” is seriously overrated and leaves us with too-quiet houses and a big risk of wearing red and purple.

But, bon voyage, our graceful butterfly. I expect front row seats when I fly to NYC or Europe to see you one of these days. I’ll be the obnoxious one (you know, like usual) telling everyone who will listen that I actually KNOW you - personally – for a long time – since you were little – I watched you play dress up – you were one of my little camp girls – I know you like to eat the fat on steak. No, it won’t be that bad. I’m sure it’ll be worse.

I’ll know even more by then.

© Copyright 2010

He Calls Me Auntie Robynn

And he’s 16-year-old Matt Harikian, the son of dear friends of ours. The guy is amazingly talented and has been wowing us all on the piano for years. When he was little, his parents could discipline him by telling him he might lose piano privileges. I don’t think that would work in my house that well……too much “YaHOOOOing!”

He was homeschooled through eighth grade and then joined University High School for intellectually gifted and talented kids. (I love how the other students always commented, “You were homeschooled? But you’re not WEIRD!”)

A few Friday nights ago he was the featured pianist in a concert the high school gave at California State University Fresno. Each student playing in the orchestra is with the high school and they did an unbelievable job, as you’ll hear. But, of course, Matt was pure genius (I’m not prejudiced) and brought the packed concert hall to its feet for a long standing ovation when it was over.

This is a lengthy piece so it had to be split into two parts (and the second part is a huge and dynamic finish). But even if you just listen while you multi-task, it will be a rich and LOVELY 12 minutes and will make you SMILE. I sat there with my jaw hanging open as I watched him. Well, okay, I admit that’s a normal look for me but but it hung even lower than usual. The film quality doesn’t do Matt justice but the music speaks for itself. He is at the piano in the middle of the video. And the one hooting at the end of the whole thing is moi. Really. I have no sense of decorum. I actually do realize that the proper way to behave at these elite affairs is not to act like a Bohemian, cough delicately into a handkerchief with pinky upraised, clap inconspicuously with a gloved hand, and use your smelling salts if you are too overcome by Bohemians offending your senses. I exist merely to prove the rule that you can dress me up but you can't take me anywhere. I'm sorry. That's a lie. It is nearly impossible to dress me up.

Without further ado, here is Matt Harikian playing the Grieg Piano Concerto in A Minor:

P.S. He’s a REALLY nice kid. :)

Part 1:

Part 2:

©Copyright 2010

$92.00 Richer

I know it may SEEM like I’m hawking coupons to all y’all but I came across this one today and it filled me with shock and awe. (Well, we all know what I’m full of but I was a little low so I stuffed the shock and awe in that spot.) Maybe I’m on a money saving spree because, well, I HAVE to be. Maybe you guys are ridiculously wealthy and don’t have to give it a second thought. Sumthin tells me, though, you could use a break, too.

Okay. I found this site through a friend: Restaurant.com

They are currently having an 80% off sale. 80%.

BUT ACT FAST BECAUSE WHEN THEY’RE GONE, THEY’RE GONE.

In my area they had eight pages of restaurants listed. You do have to read the fine print….sometimes there are time restrictions, and sometimes you have to spend a certain amount while you’re there. But out of eight pages, I found one restaurant we’ve gone to since I was 17. And they NEVER drop a coupon. It’s a breakfast place and it’s simple, folksy, and homey. And when Grizzly and I were merely a couple, it was no big deal and was affordable. But feeding two teens as well seriously cramps the eating out style. Well, this restaurant is on the list today. I got four $25.00 coupons.

You can only use one per month. No problem. We don’t eat out a lot. But here’s the kicker: after the discount I only paid $2.00 for each coupon. That’s $25.00 worth of food for two bucks.

Go there, enter your zip code, and you’ll get all the listings. You take it from there but don’t forget to enter their promo code which is “FLAG.” (They prompt you with it on the site, too.) I earn nothing for telling you this so don’t think it’s about me. It’s about YOU. Go forth and save!

Maybe we won’t have to take such long steps trying not to wear our shoes out.

Have fun and would you let me know if you found the deal of the century, too?

©Copyright 2010

Photo courtesy of multiple internet image listings

My Own O’Keefe

She finished it today.

My “little” girl is in finals week and everything is now done except for turning in her final project in her painting class. And it’s terrific, if I do say so myself. And I do. She utilized various brushes and techniques but at the last, it was her hands that completed the project. She calls it her finger painting. And she loves it – the feel, the smell, the oneness with her creation.

She has always been an artist from the earliest of days. I refused to teach her to color within the lines when she was tiny because I could never answer the question of “why?” to my satisfaction. Because someone drew them? Who cares? I watched her combine colors in ways I would have never imagined and frankly, many times thought wouldn’t work. They always did. I zipped my lip and let her go. If you know me, and you do, zipping isn’t my strong suit. But I didn’t want her to become ME. I wanted her to become whoever God created her to be. I thought that would be a LOT more interesting. And I wasn’t keen on lessons because I didn’t want her to become THEM, either. When she knew who she was, she’d have plenty of time to study.

She went through the prolific stage around five. “How do you like this, mommy?”

“Lovely, honey!”

“Okay, I’ll go make another one,” and five minutes later there she was again, and again, and again. We told her to work on quality. Our house isn’t that big.

Then I began to ask, “How do YOU like it?” so she could hear her own voice. And she became fiercely independent and now I have to chase her down to say, “LET ME SEE!” Unlike her mother, she does not need to know if others like her work – writing, photography, painting, music, or lyrics – to like them herself. She creates for her own expression and if others enjoy it as well? Bonus.

I wish I had half her moxie and very quiet self assurance.

And as soon as it’s sufficiently dry (oil takes awhile) and the shine is gone to her satisfaction, I’ll post a picture here. But it is the most beautiful iris and truly does put me in mind of a Georgia O’Keefe, but with her own style. If you can’t afford art, just give birth to an artist. Worked for me. :)

Thanks for letting me go on and on. Wasn’t it just YESTERDAY she was starting her first year in college and I was boo-hooing? Now she is done with that year. Wow.

I’ll be all weepy again come August. Feel free to skip reading me for the whole month. I’m sure I’ll be dreadfully boring.

©Copyright 2010

I Can’t Keep It to Myself

You know, if you’ve been hanging around for very long, I don’t promote products very often. It just ain’t what I do. I have friends that do it and do it very well. But I like this to be my spot in the world where, if I tell you it’s good, you might believe me because nobody’s paying me to say it.

Enter Groupon. I’m a Groupon Groupie. If you don’t know what it is, think Entertainment Book coupons on steroids and Belgian Chocolate. Think rugged muscles, thick wallet, intelligent, and lumberjack powerful. Imagine sensitive, carries handkerchiefs, would-take-a-bullet-for-you, and changes diapers kind of awareness of your needs. Trendy yet stable. Cutting edge with retro rising. Likes to talk. Shops for the kids. Remembers not only your birthday, but your mother’s as well. Groupon gets you. And they want you to get them.

I get them.

Groupon is in most major cities and here’s how it works. You go to their site http://www.groupon.com/, enter your email and create a password, and you’re signed up. That’s it. Each day (they skip once in awhile), there will be a deal of the day and you have 24 hours to take advantage of it. If enough people want the Groupon, you get it. It’s power through numbers – hence the name GROUP-on. If there aren’t enough responses, it’s a no-go. (Not usually a problem.) You sign up for your city or a city you visit a lot. Or want to visit a lot. And then you wait. Every day, you get an email notification. It’ll look something like this:

Something you wanna try? A place you already love? It’s yours. Last week I got Great Harvest Bread Company Groupons. I’ve discovered The Breakfast House, $12 worth of breakfast for $5 bucks. I’m set up for a night out to dinner with my hubby at Fibber McGee's. You can buy them for yourself. You can give them as gifts. But when they’re gone, that’s it. And then you wait for the next big thing.

Will you love every one of them? Nope. But if you need to save money while still having a LIFE, you’ll be waiting and watching for the scorching deals. I go to Great Harvest Bread nearly every Saturday. I’m.Already.Buying.It. Now I can go buy ten bucks worth of bread for five dollars. That’s being a good steward of the moolah – and most of us have to be. Our moolah is very watered down these days with no compensation for Grizzly’s injury. That took the braces right out of The Wild Man’s mouth before they ever got installed. Maybe your money tree isn’t bearing too well this year, either. Here’s a way to add to your yield.

And here’s the kicker. If you refer your friends and they sign up with your referral code and make their first purchase, you get a $10 Groupon credit. So you both win. I’m gonna give you my code so that when and if you sign up, I make ten bucks. I could use ten bucks. How about you? It’s a great, honest way to share a red-hot deal and get paid for doing it. (Let’s face it: Google Ads aren’t gonna change most our lives and that’s why they are GONE.) And you will have my undying appreciation for caring enough to copy and paste me in. Here you go:

http://www.groupon.com/r/uu1374507

That’s my unique number. When you sign up you’ll get one, too. Ain’t nuthin’ special about me. It’s just the deal. Except that this one’s good ALL the time – not just for 24 hours. Share yours however you want to but you’ll get the credit.

The last thing I’ll say about this is how nice it is that when you go to use it, it’s already paid for. It lets you plan ahead for where you want to go. YOU make your OWN coupon book. No thumbing through page after page of places you would never go and coupons you would never use.

Okay. I’m done with that one.

Next – Homeschoolers – You’ll Love This.

Here’s the spelling program we use. It’s free. It’s online. It’s user friendly. It can be customized to the age and stage of your child. I wish I had discovered it before it was created. Hmmm. Check out Spelling City. If you don’t know about it, I just know you’ll love it. http://www.spellingcity.com/

Your kids can play games, crosswords, hangman, etc., all while learning their word lists. They can test themselves at any time. We use Spelling Power (the huge orange tome)

for our main word and list resource, but we access other sources as well. We use Spelling City for awhile and then mix it up but we always come back. They aren’t paying me for the plug or sending me any free material. I’m simply so appreciative of what they’ve already offered I want to spread the word. And I want your kids to be able to spell. Mine, too. It’s an endangered skill. F u no wut I meen.

So that’s it. I don’t do advertising. But I reserve the right to share the good stuff with my friends. Because I make up the rules of how to play. I say what goes on around these parts.

Wow. What a power trip. I scare myself. Just send me home with my football.

©Copyright 2010

Notification of Departure

Today at baseball I was the snack mom. I had hard acts to follow. Capri Suns, Oreos, grab bags of chips. My son notified me I would NOT be the mom who brought celery and carrot sticks. I completely caved and brought entertainment food instead of nutrition. My one nod toward actual food was bottled water. Water had not yet been present at snack time. I don’t like bottled water but I didn’t have a big jug and they’re all plastic anyway.

While I watched the kids happily dive into the loot and my son maintain his reputation, a few of us parents leaned against the sagging chain link fence and talked about the scene before us.

Jack LaLanne’s name came up and how he’s always been a fitness guru.

Even now, at 95, he could run circles around me. BIG circles. I’d be out of breath just turning around and around watching him do it. John B., one of our friends, noted that Jack says he only eats soup for lunch, every day. He thinks anything else is too much.

When interviewed by Katie Couric on NBC's Today show, LaLanne said his two simple rules of nutrition are: "if man made it, don't eat it", and "if it tastes good, spit it out." Lalanne also works out for two hours each morning in a serious body-disciplining routine.

On-going, long-term research (by people paid to do on-going, long-term research) does seem to indicate that those who eat less than they need, exercise intensely every day, and stay slightly underweight live the longest.

I’ve had some time to ponder these thoughts and, based on empirical evidence, the pizza and cake I ate for lunch at a kid’s birthday party, and my scale who told me last time I got on not to try and weigh two people at the same time, I just wanted to say goodbye to you all. I’m pretty sure I’ll be dead in about half-an-hour.

Do you think it’s too late for rotten tasting soup?

The Nearly Departed,

Robynn

©Copyright 2010

Photos: Multiple Internet Sources, Katie Couric interview courtesy of Wikipedia

Blown Away by Genius

You know I don’t use videos as my stock-in-trade. They have to be really exceptionally funny, poignant, or cutting edge to qualify.

This video left me awestruck, gobsmacked, stunned, and realizing I was watching history being made. Bo brought it to me today and I’ve watched it five times. It’s a little over three minutes but you’ll always say you were there for this kid’s debut.

He is twelve-year-old Greyson Michael Chance and he performed a song for his Edmond, Oklahoma Sixth Grade Talent Show. He plays piano and writes his own music, although this was a cover of Lady Gaga’s (gag-gag, I can’t STAND her) song, “Paparazzi.” He schooled her, as the kids say, and showed her who was boss.

I dug deeper and found a few videos of him at home filming himself playing and singing his own work. He’ll be on the Ellen Degeneres show tomorrow, Thursday, May 13th. I’ll be watching. I can’t STOP watching. Who IS this child? WHERE does he get that voice in that little body? And he sounds like no one I’ve ever heard.

I’m praying his parents can help him keep his head on straight because he’s about to be embraced and adored by the world, and we all know what that does to young stars.

In the meantime, I can’t wait to get this kid’s first CD.

And I love the looks on the faces of the young girls in the audience. They’ll all be telling their kids about being in the audience. Mom and Dad are gonna have to hire a fulltime body guard for him. Crush fever just docked its boat on a twelve-year-old boy. I love him but I thank GOD he’s not mine! Yikes!

Be sure to turn up the volume for this one to get the full effect and don't miss the ending remarks from his teacher. Priceless!

©Copyright 2010

All The Wrinkled Ladies!

Okay, I found my theme song. I can’t quite celebrate it at the level Anita Renfroe does but, I’m workin’ on it!

And I got smashed today. If you haven’t had your mammos ladies, time to schedule! And I should even add, “Men. Check your ample pectorals.” There was a dude in there who had to carry around a lab sheet with breasts on it (bless his brave little heart) because guess what? Men get breast cancer, too. Probably all the GMO soy and animal hormones floating through our food chain. Okay. I won’t preach anymore. Just watch this and have a hoot and a holler. :)

(Oh, and check on the post below this one for the contest winners!)

©Copyright 2010

And The Winners Are………!

My son stayed up with me until midnight and he was excited to draw the names of the winners! I hope you all visit these wonderful ladies (links are included). Compelling blogs, each one, and all offer something fresh or different or inspiring. First, for followers who blogged about the contest:

PAM! at Seeds of Nutrition! You will receive the $50 Gift Card to Great Harvest Bread Company! Email me, Pam, (robynnsravings at gmail dot com) with your address. They will be mailing it directly to you.

Second and third, for followers who left me a comment:

EMMA! at Divorced Before 30! Email me, Emma, with your mailing address because you’re headed to dinner at Chipotle with the dining partner of your choice. Pick a good one! ;-)

And ROBIN! at Be Still And Know! is the winner of the "Food, Inc." DVD! If you haven’t seen the movie, Robin, you’ll enjoy this and want to pass it around to friends. I bought an extra copy so I can do just that. Email me, please, because I’ll be sending this directly to you.

Congratulations to all of you winners and thank you very much, everyone, for jumping in to join the fun. I’ve met lots of new friends and that feels like I won!

©Copyright 2010

It’s Mother’s Day When I SAY It’s Mother’s Day, Dang It

And I say it’s not today. Not for me. I’m happy for all of you and hope you are celebrating every sticky kiss and chubby armed hug you have ever received. May you revel in surviving all the really scary diapers and the endless years of night duty with its accompanying sleep deprivation and bags under your eyes large enough to tote your groceries. And may you always have the color crayon drawing that’s been kept on the refrigerator for ten years even though it’s splashed, stained, and frayed and would permanently banish you from operating in certain social circles. Well, maybe that last one is just me.

Please don’t get me wrong. I think this is a high-holy day in the Mothering Kingdom. Motherhood is like the Peace Corp whose slogan is “It’s the hardest job you’ll ever love.” I consider becoming a mother to be THE high point of my life and I LOVE my job with my whole heart.

But that’s why I can’t celebrate today. I am rescheduling. And who’s to say I can’t? I have this rebellious streak in me that has often pondered rescheduling ALL holidays. Let’s face it: Jesus wasn’t born on December 25th. But someone at some point said, “Close enough,” and we all crowded into the stores to obey their directive and meet their timetable. We have discussed celebrating a week later. Can you imagine? Time to enjoy everyone else and ponder the meaning of Christmas? All the activities you wouldn’t resent? Deep breathing. The money saving sales?

And what would Valentine’s Day be a week later? Less crowded? Your favorite table at that romantic restaurant with no long line and a waiter who doesn’t hate you? 75% off that to-die-for box of chocolates at your favorite chocolatier?

I’m having a hard time seeing the downside.

And in that vein, I AM rescheduling Mother’s Day. It’s been a challenging week and the timing is all off.

• Monday/Tuesday – stomach flu, major nerve pain
• Tuesday-Friday – throat infection
• Wednesday – beloved dog dies
• Thursday – beloved dog funeral
• Saturday – Grizzly works his 13th day in a row (afraid to turn down any overtime because the company broke us with his ozone injury and their refusal to pay for his time off, even though he STILL hasn't recovered), while also fitting in a major repair job on the Jeep so he can get to work, major repair job at my mom’s fixing two well pumps because she can’t afford to hire anyone and she had no water, and completing major electrical work at our church because it’s overdue and well, it’s the CHURCH. If he runs screaming into the forest and never returns, I completely understand and hope he remembers his warm coat.
• Saturday – spent with baseball, my mom, shopping for her and taking her to lunch, addressing difficulties and concerns, and listening to revisionist history storytelling while practicing joy, patience, and functional insanity. Fighting yawning while being sleep deprived after dealing with the crazy drug addicted neighbor and sitting with her kids at 3:30 in the morning after they called the police on her, for the 30th time.
• Saturday – Same neighbor sells me a bogus ticket to a contest at her daughter’s school and I bite, thinking no one would stoop so low as to use your feelings for their child as a way into your pocket (I’ve obviously had little experience with this and am a COMPLETE doofus), only to find out from another neighbor the daughter says there IS no contest and mom is raising drug money.
• Saturday – Drug mom shows up at my door and wants a ride to where else? THE DRUG STORE. I decline and tell her she needs help and that I know the contest was a fake. I am cursed and told I have no right to call myself a Christian. I think I do have a right to call myself a doofus.
• Sunday – TODAY. Daughter is in finals and must study all day so can’t take time off to hang out with us and I don’t choose to do Mother’s Day without her.
• Sunday – Our attorney wants to meet with us because his wife is out of town and he is available. I don’t usually meet with attorneys on Mother’s Day but am grateful nonetheless for his concern for our needs. Additionally, our health insurance is changing and all forms need to be filled out to turn in tomorrow. What says Mother’s Day more than bureaucratic red tape?
• Sunday – Remain vigilant. Drug mom grows creepier and more threatening.
• Final Decision? DO OVER!

How about you? Do you ever consider rescheduling holidays or birthdays? (Don’t even get me STARTED on birthdays. I have birthSEASONS, not days.)

So, for all of you lovely traditionalists, I honor you and love you and hope you receive the props I KNOW you deserve. I wish I could hug each one of you for the kindness, generosity, and affection you’ve shown me. But when I sit down to my Mother’s Day dinner, in a few weeks, after the rush is over, I’ll lift my cup to you then.

Happy Mother’s Day!

©Copyright 2010

Images Courtesy of Available Internet Images and Pam Warden, Artist and Obvious Genius – products available through www.amerheritage.com/salespages/art/pamwarden1.htm

Parting Is NOT Sweet Sorrow, It Reeks

Yesterday, at 5:15 in the morning, our JoJo decided she had breathed her last and left our little home without us. By God’s grace we were all four by her side telling her it was okay and giving her kisses and hugs as we told her what a good girl she was. And she was a good girl. She had been battling a degenerative disease in her hind quarters for over a year and had recently gotten wheels to provide a little more freedom. But she seemed to fade in the last week and by Tuesday night, we knew things were changing.

We buried her last night, the four of us, standing around her grave holding hands and sobbing. She was unequivocally heroic. She always had a smile unless SHE had done something wrong, and she did her best each day despite her infirmities which grew more and more challenging. You would have never known how much she battled by her smile and attitude.

I’m afraid I’m not half the person my dog was.

She had a spirit to be admired, and, think what you will, against any hard evidence to the contrary, I believe she is in Heaven and whole again. She was definitely a gift from God. As I sat pondering her this morning and thought about what we, as Christians, are supposed to exemplify if we are growing and walking as we should be, the Fruit of The Spirit list came to mind:

• Love
• Joy
• Peace
• Patience
• Kindness
• Goodness
• Gentleness
• Faithfulness
• Self-Control

JoJo had all these, in abundance. (Well, if I’m being honest, she did struggle a little in the self-control department when she came within three miles of a piece of food or chocolate. Yeah. We understood each other.)

Me? Well, I’m still working on most of the list on an on-going basis. As one friend said to me today, “No wonder God took her. She was all ready.”

Oh yes she was.

More later, but, that’s where I’ve been.

We love you, JoJo. You were, hands-down, the best dog ever.

©Copyright 2010

Contest Time!! THREE GIVEAWAYS!!

I haven’t had a contest for far too long so I’ve decided to have THREE contests. Giving something away is gangs of fun and I’m overdue for gangs of fun. Life has been alternately frustrating, painful, maddening, overwhelming, and generally ticking me off. I could give you details (and you KNOW I will) but I’d rather give you gifts for now, especially bread. So that’s where we’ll start.

Bread is good therapy. When you smell it wafting through the air it makes you feel as though all is right with the world. Maybe I’ll start my own Bread Therapy Group. I bet it would catch on. We won’t talk about any problems - we’ll just eat bread until we’re stupefied and then we’ll wander off into the night. And I’ll charge people for this. Yes, I feel I have entrepreneur written all over me. But at least I’ll actually FEED them with THE most delicious bread ever created. I know this to be true. I’m there nearly every Saturday. “THERE” is Great Harvest Bread Company.

They make warm and squishy and delectable things like this:

And this (which lasted for four seconds after this photo was shot):

Here’s one of their bakeries:

If you’ve been hanging around here very long, you know that I believe in REAL FOOD. I define that as food made from real ingredients, organic if possible, unprocessed or lightly processed, knowing the people who grow your food, buying locally, and buying fresh. It’s being in touch with what you eat.

Great Harvest Bread Company exemplifies the values that are important to me. They do business with small farmers, many of whom they’ve known and worked with for many years. Bread is made fresh daily, wheat is being ground into flour regularly, and customers are treated to samples that are generous.

But here’s something that’s really important to know:

They truly care about our communities. Kate Ord, Director of Marketing states, “At the core of our mission statement is ‘give generously to others.’ We donate more than 4 tons of whole grain bread to children and families in need.” They also take part in life-changing projects like this Habitat For Humanity home:

They get to know their customers with a Farmers’ Market presence in selected locales:

And they know what they’re buying and what they feed us. It matters. It’s at the heart of everything they do.

The company was recently named “Best Place To Work” by Outside Magazine and “Most Democratic Workplace” by Worldblu. They’ve also recently started a blog you can link to HERE.

I so love this company that I contacted them to find out more about who they are. I was fortunate enough to meet the lovely Ms. Kate Ord. We became fast friends and when I told her I wanted to introduce my blogging buds to Great Harvest, she did what they do: jumped in to help. And this is where our contest begins.

Great Harvest has offered to give one lucky winner a $50 certificate for your choice of fresh, lovely, squishy, delicious bread products from a bakery near you. And just in case you don’t yet have one of these wonderful places, they will send you a basket of mixes to create your own fresh-baked treats in your kitchen. (Fresh bread wouldn’t be all that fresh by the time they shipped it to you so making your own is the next best thing!) And here’s the kicker: They’ll send this basket to you WHEREVER you are. That means my international friends can enter, too! I’m officially jazzed.

This contest will be for my BLOGGING FRIENDS. You will be entered if you follow me and BLOG about the contest. It can be as simple as, “Hey, Robynn’s Ravings is having a contest for these items (and then list them). Go see her at http://www.robynnsravings.blogspot.com/ !! Or you can write a book, but whichever you choose, click the follow button to the right with all the photos and then leave me a comment with your blog link and I’ll head on over to your place.

The next items are for ANY followers and you tell me which contest you want to be entered into. One is from Chipotle. You may remember Chipotle from me blogging about them or you may have seen them featured on “Nightline.” Chipotle is a fantastic restaurant that makes every effort to purchase its meat and food from growers who raise their animals and grow their crops in healthy, sustainable ways. And the flavor of their food is proof positive. If you already follow me (or decide to) and you want “Burritos For Two including gourmet burritos, fresh chips with guacamole, and drinks,” then leave me a comment and include the words “Following” and “Chipotle” somewhere in the comment.

However, not everyone lives within a convenient distance of this food paradise so you may want to select an alternate prize. Therefore, I offer you this:

A brand spankin’ new DVD of the most fascinating look at why it’s important to eat REAL FOOD. This could change your life, your health, and your mind. I think everyone should see it. And my kids even loved it though I included a trip to see it in their homeschooling curriculum.

Again, just click that “follow” icon over there on the right. (If you’re following me on a feed or through a reader, please click anyway just so I know about you!) Then type in “following” and “Food, Inc.” somewhere in your comment and I’ll put you in for this one.

So there you have it. Lots o’ loot and fabulous reasons to eat good food and REAL FOOD! I hope this brings you out of the woodwork if you’ve been lurking and I hope it spreads the word about GREAT HARVEST BREAD COMPANY! This is the first time I’ve featured them.

The contest will end at midnight PST, Monday, May 10, 2010. Winners will be announced Tuesday. Good luck!

©Copyright 2010 – Photos Courtesy of Great Harvest Bread Company and internet sources unless otherwise marked.

You’ll Forgive Me But……

That’s my boy. And it’s Saturday again. And, well, they grow up so fast and….uh…..I told my kids this blog would chronicle our lives (as well as my general insanity) so…..……here’s lookin’ at you kid. I carried you in my formerly-functional-body and delivered all nine pounds of you at 37 weeks, even though the doctor said I measured 44 weeks and should’ve had two of you. My baby belly arrived places three minutes before I did it was so huge. (Okay, men, this is your chance to run away screaming.) I had way too much water and you swam around inside me in an Olympic sized swimming pool, using the high dive for cannon balls. During my c-section it was a flood worthy of Charlton Heston playing Moses. I think I saw some Egyptians and a Pharaoh get washed away. I think they came out with you. My mid-section will never be the same.

Neither will my heart. I love my boy.

Thanks for indulging me in this motherly moment. I couldn’t help myself. He’s just so very cute, in a MANLY sort of way!

Thanks again, my dear friend Chris, for your photographic talents and willingness to make my son feel important. I would like to tell you all about Chris sometime. You would love him.

CONTEST COMING MONDAY!

©Copyright 2010

The Kindness of A Dog

The news recently featured a man left to die on the streets of New York City after he had been fatally stabbed while saving a woman from her assailant. Twenty-five people, including the woman he aided, failed to act on his behalf. One of the people passing him got out a cell phone and took his picture for entertainment purposes. Finally, someone called 911, but it was too late.

This story has haunted me this week as I have pondered it. Did he look like a homeless man asleep on the sidewalk? According to news reports there was blood to be seen from the stab wounds. However, for over half-an-hour no one investigated further or even called 911 to ask someone else to look into it.

Who are we?

Contrast this story with the following video clip of a dog saving another dog. I was dumbfounded and moved to tears after watching the clip that follows. Please, Lord, always give me the good sense and compassion this little dog had. How can we do less as human beings?

(This is less than a minute to watch and has a happy ending for both dogs.)

I am reminded of these verses from the Bible.....

Matthew 25: 37:40 "Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'

40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.' "

We're supposed to be living by these words. God can get our attention through any means he chooses.

©Copyright 2010

North And South

North: Me, on the left – location - California (Okay, yes, that IS my gray hair so there ya go…..I always said I couldn’t be fat AND gray and that is now a patently obvious lie. I have also blown my big reveal.)

South: Kate – location – Australia, author of the “Tatersmama's Take on Things” blog which you will love if you VISIT. She has been in Australia for 15 years and came home to the foothill mountains of northern California to see her son, grandkids, other family, friends, and blogging buddies. (She likes to have her picture taken about as much as I do. Consequently, this photo is an act of love on both our parts so our blogging friends could see us meeting - like when Ms. Pac Man comes out to meet Winkin’ and Blinkin’ and Nod, or whatever the heck their names are.)

This is what we REALLY wanted to put up:

We think it shows us to our best advantage.

My visit with Kate was shorter than I wanted because we were late. Speaking of which, here’s a riddle I made up:

Question: What happens when you show up some place early?

Answer: I have no idea.

The prevailing factor this day was Tom-Tom. She’s my husband’s other girlfriend (the first in his affections is his espresso maker, Sylvia). Tom-Tom may have a guy’s name but she’s definitely a girl and speaks with a British accent. Supposedly, her job is to navigate for us and tell us the best way to get everywhere. Due to palpable jealousy, she did her best to thwart my plans. She didn’t take us the fastest way; she took us the shortest way, which included abandoned stage coach trails, a child’s footbridge, through a living room, and finally the end of the road where we had to backpack in the last five miles.

But it was worth it. If you know Kate through blogging, I’m here to tell you, she’s the real deal. Loving, sweet with a vinegar tang, funny, and as warm as can be. She even introduced me to The Old Guy and her friend, Jenny. These people are frequent players in the dramedy of her life and actors on the stage of her blog. She had a warm and welcoming family and the setting was LUSH with verdant greens and wildflowers thanks to all the California rain. I could have stayed for a week.

It’s a funny thing when you’ve been keyboard-pals for a year-and-a-half. You bypass all those firsts and move right to sharing in the nitty-gritty of each other’s lives. We KNOW each other. Of course, there are missing elements but we were already friends in 2-D. We just added the Imax screen and our 3-D glasses. We skipped the popcorn but only because of time constraints.

Speaking of food, there are some things you need to know about hardships in Kate’s life.

This woman lives in an odd country – sorry my Australian friends but I think you’ll agree with me on this one. She cannot get Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. She cannot get Butterfingers or Dr. Pepper. And these are among her favorite foods. We could argue that these don’t fall into the REAL FOOD category and we would be right. She would agree and isn’t calling them virtuous. But that doesn’t mean she deserves to be force fed Vegemite. (Another Australian friend tells me she’s never had a Twinkie. It’s alright, Julie. When the apocalypse comes, these things will sail right through. And they have a shelf life of 5,000 years. You’ll probably get a shot.)

So I came armed with her favorite foods. She immediately ordered me to hide them from her son, like any good mother would do. I knew we were kindred spirits.

I brought my own actors from my blog stage:

Griz and the Wild Man – husband and son. Bo couldn’t make it. She was busy cleaning the River Parkway north of Fresno. She had gangs of fun (literally) tearing out old animal pens and rusty barbed wire while avoiding a baby rattlesnake.

In the photo below, you can see where Tom-Tom tried to dump me on an old miner’s trail: Mark Twain’s Cabin at Jackass Hill. This effort contained a complete lack of subtlety.

Writing didn’t pay that well, apparently, by the looks of the cabin. (Must have been a lot like blogging.) But Mark Twain’s first book was inspired here, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” and, like a few famous bloggers we all know, sometimes you get that big break and find your place on the map. I’m just hoping I can work up to a cabin like this one of these days. I might be able to afford this level of luxury. Somethin’ tells me fame and a size 8 will be forever elusive. I have a body made for radio.

But I’ve got this strapping guy to look after me in my old age, which, near as I can tell, should be here in about three hours.

So Kate, it was great, and I thank you. Now when I read your blog I will see you and think of you the same way you can now see and think of me.

From the forehead up.

©Copyright 2010

To Gray Or Not Too Gray

I’ve been going gray since I was 24.

The shock came on an Easter morning. I had just washed my hair and was blow drying, getting ready for church. Something glisteny (that’s a word as of now) caught my attention in the glare of the bathroom lights. I dove in after it like I’d just discovered fleas.

I could not believe my eyes and immediately ripped it out. I was quite sure it was a freakish anomaly and now that it had been annihilated, I could proceed with my youth.

The thought did occur to me that three more gray hairs were supposed to take its place. Just an old wives tale, I reassured myself, and proceeded to kiss Denial right on the lips.

But those old wives are much maligned and they get even by being right.

Consequently, I began a serious relationship with “Sun-In.”

Now, in case you’ve never used this fine product, I should explain that Sun-In is supposed to make your hair look like you’ve spent a scintillating summer frolicking in dazzling light rays. It’s designed to impart the color of young locks and lend highlights and streaks to your carefree, tousled hair. You exude an aura of babe-a-liciousness. And it does that about as effectively as an orange spray tan resembles softly burnished skin, fresh from tropical beaches.

I’m pretty sure the look I affected was closer to the Straw Man (Scarecrow) in the Wizard of Oz. But not as attractive. My boyfriend du jour summed it up with “What did you do to your hair?” Well, I recaptured my youth (as a hay stack), thank you very much.

A few years and job promotions later, I was in the luxurious financial position to have my hair foiled fairly regularly. This is achieved by taking small strands of hair, brushing them with a bleaching agent, wrapping each piece in tin foil, and not stopping until you resemble an aluminum Christmas tree. The general effect is a masking of your gray and it works well until you have so much gray mixed in with the blonde that it looks like you’re having a May/December relationship with yourself.

Enter coloring.

This would hide the whole mess, I figured. (Well, except during outgrowth periods which consumed 9/10ths of the period between coloring and recoloring.) So I went lighter. And the lighter was so light it matched my nearly white hair which was good for outgrowth but then, what was the point of coloring? And if I was going to have nearly white hair, why not have white hair? Well, I reasoned, because I was a blonde at heart. I was born a tow-head – yes, almost white, but with golden highlights. And I was always a blonde, even when it darkened as I got older. It made sense then to move away from gray/white and back toward more golden shades. And everyone was fooled and thought I actually looked 13 even though I was 45.

And then one morning, about six months ago, I asked Grizzly what he would think if I raised the white flag over my white hair. He said surrender was decidedly French but he’d love me anyway. Maybe more, if I came with a side of fries.

So I grew out. And not just horizontally.

It is a fascinating occupation to watch your actual, real, bonafide, genuine hair color appear. My blonde had become pretty light again so it wasn’t striking, but it was noticeable. My hairdresser friends said blend it. I said no. It would only delay what I was trying to achieve: the unvarnished truth of my real hair color. And with each haircut, more silvery white appeared and the blonde tips were fading and disappearing. I currently lack one hair cut being completely done. (Pictures will follow when I am.)

And what do I think?

I am trying to figure out why I waited so long. It’s deliciously freeing. As I suspected, it’s decidedly silver, almost white. I don’t recognize myself in photos. I sometimes think I look like I overdid it in the coloring department. Then I remember: that IS my color. I can’t quite get over myself yet but I’m starting to actually love it.

I’m a tow head again just like when I was a mere infant - minus the golden highlights, sun-suit, and the diaper. I don’t think the golden highlights or the sun-suit will ever make a reappearance.

Let’s hope the same holds true on the diaper.

(Me, at three.)

©Copyright 2010

The Boyz of Summer

It’s not the Big League. It’s not even the Little League. But it’s definitely a league of their own.

And NOBODY ain’t got nuthin’ on them in the good-times department.

Best Buds left to right – The Wild Man, The Arm, and The Goofball

The Goofball Goofs

Ready and waiting.

Hmmm……

Play ball.

Thanks for the photos, Chris. You rock. :-)

P.S. I added the watermark with photography credit because our friend didn’t want it. He doesn’t seek the limelight. So I must shove him into it. It’s what I do. Shove. And “The Arm?” That’s his kiddo. Can that boy ever throw a ball. Yep. Good times. Good memories. Good friends.

Good deal.

(For the interested, I've been asked to post updates on The Lila Minkler Project and I told you I am a bear of very little brain so, of course, I don't send out reminders. If you are interested, a new post appears EVERY DAY there because this is a fast-clip project. If you've missed something you think you want to see, you can link HERE).

©Copyright 2010

What Not to Wear

Perhaps this would be better titled: What Not to Share. But if one cannot humiliate oneself and get a blog post out of it, then really, what’s the point of humiliation?

Let’s consider three different shoe combinations, shall we? These are perfectly acceptable. They may not be your taste but I have foot problems (why of course I do – is there anything on my body which functions normally? No Virginia, there is no Santa Clause-only Dr. Scholl’s), and so they have to have a little heel, but not too much. And they have to have great arch support. These qualify and are therefore a shoe of choice: (Pay no attention to the wrinkly ankles.)

And again, this next pair has suited me so well they are nearly worn to a frazzle, like their owner:

While each of these pairs of shoes are perfectly acceptable on their own, combining them seems to be a fashion error:

And I think we could all agree it would be decidedly silly to think you could go into public with this combo and so, of course, we wouldn’t. Unless you’re me and then, of course, you would. It would happen while once again dressing in the dark, which we know always gets me in trouble – (if you’ve forgotten the underwear incident or never read it you can horrify yourselves HERE).

This time, it was apparently too much trouble to turn on the light in the entry way and actually survey the shoe basket. I simply reached in with my toes and felt my way around. Now, due to neuropathy in my feet from an unknown cause (no, it’s not diabetes), I have little “sensing” abilities. I can’t always tell when my feet are even touching something, let alone the RIGHT something. I’ve been known to shove a turned over toe into a closed shoe and not even realize it immediately. Consequently, I’m supposed to be careful but careful and I don’t get along that well so we don’t hang out as often as we should.

And so confident was I that all was right, I merrily flitted out the door and drove myself to community choir. And really, all would have been well, indeed possibly even undetected, if our dear choir director – thank you, Licia – had not insisted we all gather together out of our graduated seating positions and join one another in a large and convivial circle on the floor, where we might blend our voices in harmonious rapture.

The only problem was that would mean we were all looking at each other – from the ground up – full view – no hidden feet behind the chair in front of you. But I gave it not a second thought. I did not presume for a moment to be concerned about anything other than the part I was supposed to sing – in tune and on time. However, when others – yes, Kaylee, I mean YOU – happen to consider your frame (knowing it is weak), and they casually observe your less-than-desirably-shod situation, they are inclined to become uncontrollably hysterical, and, in so doing, they will draw others into their frivolity, happily revealing the source by pointing and laughing to the point of tears.

You will woefully realize, upon closer examination of your feet, that your extremities are the source of this spontaneous merriment. What are you to do under such circumstances? Why nothing more than to take a spin around the circle of song birds, advertise your feet, and allow them to crow more loudly.

And then you simply resume singing when everyone is done wetting their pants and crying, because, after all, it IS me.

No one really expects anything different.

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?” Mr. Bennet, Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.

©Copyright 2010

The Lila Minkler Project - First Post

And we're off over there at The Lila Minkler Project.

If you want to follow along, please click the follow button on Lila's blog so you can get updates. When I post here I'll try to remember to always include a link, but my mind is a convoluted mass of equal parts "Hoarders," "CSI," and "Survivor." I can barely find anything in there so don't pin your hopes on me.

Thanks for your interest!

Coincidence? I Think Not.

Nineteen years ago today, my little girl was born. My first born. I was silly. I was a mess. I was deliciously tearful and emotional and milky and thankful and overwhelmed. I had waited four long years through surgeries, treatments, check-ups, scans, prescription drugs, pregnancy tests, counting days on the calendar, and checking my breasts for telltale signs of soreness until I became unfit to appear in public. When I FINALLY saw a “+” on the test strip, I was thunderstruck. What I couldn’t know is, I would lose that baby and my heart and my faith would sink like the Titanic, only faster.

I wrestled with God and poured out my anger, my disappointment, my last drop of energy. I wanted to quit and just give up. But six months later, hope began anew and it wasn’t long before Miss Bo entered the world.

It is a foregone conclusion that she was, hands down, the most beautiful baby who had ever come into existence at that time.

Two years later we would go through infertility again trying to have The Wild Man. My trips to the doctor for scans were now accompanied by my little satellite, Bo. On one trip she asked where we were going and I told her, “To the doctor for a scan.” She had heard a lot of talk about “eggs” and I never gave it a thought. She piped up and said, “Yep, we have to go and see if you have a chicken baby in your tummy.”

Don’t talk about eggs in front of two year olds unless you’re scrambling them. The eggs, that is.

Besides, it was no chicken baby, it was a swingin’, jumpin’, howlin’, bouncin’ MONKEY that ended up in there and I’ve been tryin’ to cage him ever since (while secretly hoping I never do – he’s too much fun just the way he is).

But when Bo was due to arrive, I had to have a scheduled C-section due to health issues (are we SHOCKED?). I got to pick the day and I had two possibilities. One was on our niece's tenth birthday so I called and asked her how she felt about it. Some kids wouldn’t want to share the day. Not Miss Nickle Pickle. She was all over that and so these two favorite girls and cousins are exactly ten years apart.

Not a coincidence. A plan born in love. God’s for us. Our’s for each other. A sweet young cousin’s with a generous heart. And is it just me or does she look almost exACTly like Faith Hill? You KNOW my penchant for matching up faces.

YOU be the judge.

Our Niece

Faith Hill

Happy Birthday to two wonderful and loving young women! Your mama/auntie loves you!

©Copyright 2010

(P.S. – Now REALLY, my next post will be “What Not to Wear.”