Rain Shower

Because when the power goes out and you're stinky, there is no other option.

Tackle It Tuesday--Photo Shoot

Madyson Annmarie Bishop

This week, I tackled a photo shoot of my new niece.

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You can see all of my Tackles here.

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Alton Brown

Ok. So I might like living near Chicago.


Zane is not so much a city-boy. Chip off the old block. My fiercely independent ten year old boy, the one who chides me for saying "I have to go potty" because "potty" embarrasses him and can't I just say bathroom or restroom like everyone else? The one who is starting to not want me to kiss him and hug him and love him when people are around (oh my heart.)

This boy clung for dear life to my hand while crossing Michigan Avenue. He grabbed my hand himself. No prompting. Grabbed it and then held it with both of his and said, "This is a lot of traffic."

And now I want to take him back to Michigan Avenue to play in traffic. I'm only kidding a little. This boy who suckled my breast for his first three years of his life and wouldn't go to anyone except me now thinks I'm uncool and I might need one of the pretty white jackets and a few strong martinis (lemon drop, thank you) to get through what comes next. Who are you to judge if I take him to play in traffic so he'll hold on a tighter for awhile longer?

That's what I thought.

Alton Brown has been a staple in our home for quite some time now. We all love Good Eats and Iron Chef America. When I heard Alton was going to be in Chicago doing a discussion and signing for his newest book <---see the picture and click to see the information at Amazon.com, I knew we had to go. Even though the wait was long and the line was longer, I'm really glad we went.

Dear Alton,

We canceled our trip to Legoland to come see you and it was all Zane's decision. I think you should feel pretty good considering Zane has three billion Legos in his room and has been bugging me to go to Legoland. Borders bookstore is the suck though. They baited us with hope of hearing your discussion then told us if we weren't in the first 100 we couldn't listen. Some crazies waited in line from 1pm til 7pm to see you. Not that you're not worth it, but, uhm, that's a long time. So we got there at 6pm and we HAD to buy your current book, otherwise we couldn't see you either. So we bought it, we would've anyway, but they were mean about it. So really, we probably won't ever go back to Borders (those bullies.)

You, however, redeemed the evening, Mr. Brown.

We sat on the floor of Borders and waited in line, talking to the nicest couple. For hours. Now, Zane is 10 and he's pretty patient, but he was about ready to bail. Good thing the line moved. It was nearing 10pm and he was getting nervous as we neared the front of the line. The way you stopped and took time to look Zane in the eyes and ask him questions made my heart swell. You are such and admirable man. Thank you.

And then you did something I didn't expect. Zane was the first kid you signed a book for, I think. When you left your place behind your signing table and went out into the line to sign all the kid's books so they could go home and get to bed...That was integrity.

Thank you for that display of your character. I'm glad I got to witness it.

~michelle

I wanted to tell the whole world what a good guy you are Alton Brown!

Zane's 10th Birthday--Transformers Cake!

My boy is a decade old.

Remember 10? Mrs. Kaczmarek was my teacher. I was the only one who could spell her name right. It was a bonus word on our first spelling test. And I was also the only one who spelled the bonus word "rendezvous" correct on a different test. We had to write a dictionary that year of something we were interested in. Mine was on car parts. Mrs. Kaczmarek told me I needed to be more of a girl. I told her I was going to sign up for the Army and then I was going to be a truck driver and a writer.

I did sign up for the Army. I was a truck driver. I am a writer.

She didn't believe me. I don't know if anyone did.

Zane hasn't told me yet what he wants to be. Engineering will be a part of it, I imagine.

I want to pay attention to his desires, his goal, his dreams. I wonder what he will do? What he will be?

Happy Birthday my love!

Kudos to Amie from Clemons Cakery!

She bakes the most yummilicious cakes.

Sincerely Fro Me to You--Topless on a Motorcycle

The purpose of Sincerely ‘Fro Me to You (every Thursday) is to link up a post about something from your past. You can reach back all the way to your childhood and bravely post pictures of your ‘fro (don’t act like you didn’t have a bad hair style. I know you did) or post something from last year and tell us about it.

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And you wonder why I am who I've turned out to be? Seriously.

I'm about 2 in this photo. Topless. On a motorcycle. This isn't a one time occurrence. You'd think my parents didn't buy me clothes as a toddler. Guess I needed to be different. Some things never change.

Oh those were the days. I could run around topless and cute and people actually took photos instead of ran away! Though if I ran around topless today and Phil had a camera...nevermind. TMI

I suppose this is somewhere around the summer of 1974.

That's our neighbor's house, I can't remember his name, but I remember he had two front doors (check it out! That was SO cool to me as a kid!) And he was on oxygen and he always, always, always gave me a butterscotch when I went over to visit. He was the good neighbor. The old lady on the other side used to keep my toys if they went over the fence. So I picked her flowers through the fence and gave them to my mom.

I showed you mine, now you show me yours! Sign up here.

Wordless Wednesday

Grandma Schalk's Poem for Phil

Written when Phil was 8 months old, on Phil's mom's seventeenth birthday (she was the baby of 7.)

I'm told my little dare-devil of a husband used to climb to the top of the stairs and jump all the way down. That's what this poem's about.

Grandma's Angel

Darling you need loving
Like the grass needs the dew
You're our precious Baby
We all love You

Your Mama says I'm spoiling
The one she loves so dear
You can't spoil an Angel
She has nothing to fear

On all fours you go creeping
Like a quiet little mouse
While you're flushing the torlet toilet
And flooding the house

I clean up your mess
And then go take a peep
Stair steps are a challenge
For your fat little feet

I dash up the steps
And I catch you on high
I know you're Grandma's Angel
But you're too young to fly.




by Lillian Schalk
For the sweetest little Angel
Phillip Gale Pendergrass
Age 8 months. August 7, 1969





This was too cute to pass up!

More about Grandma Schalk here.

Special Darling

I didn't know Grandma Schalk wrote poetry.

Poetry isn't usually my cup of tea, but the poem I want to share today (and I'll be sharing one tomorrow about Phil) have nearly done me in. I've cried more tears over these two poems than I care to admit.

Grandma Schalk would have celebrated her 93rd year on this earth December 13th. God called her home on Phil's birthday.

There were seven Schalk children. Betty, Martin, Frank, Glinda, Lloyd, Denny, and Marilyn (Phil's mom.)

Today I want to talk about Denny. (excerpt from Meet the Family)

Born with Down's Syndrome and expected to die around age eleven, he's now in his sixties and ornery as ever.

Denny loves people and loves visitors. He's also a collector. Of everything. Pens especially but other things aren't out of consideration...McDonald's Happy Meal boxes, fries still at the bottom, Hotwheels cars, my hair clips, checkbooks, handkerchiefs, combs, and whatever else strikes his fancy. Coming to visit means Denny'll be bringing out the best of the best to show off. You can't look for too long, he thinks you're stealing back what rightfully belongs to you. He doesn't talk, just grunts, but believe you me, it is clear what Denny is saying.

Typically, Denny'll bring out something, show it to me and Grandma, who is blind mind you, will say, "What's that there. My check register? Denny! Give that back." She'll walk over and try to get it back, but Denny's adamant, it is his. After awhile, Grandma tires of trying to pry the check register out of Denny's hands and calls to Lloyd, who hops up and yanks it out of Denny's hand. Denny then pouts and sulks until he gets pie.

He makes faces at us all the time, probably because we play along and make them back. He loves hugs from everyone who visits and steals your cool stuff, takes it to his room, puts it on top of a piece of paper and sits to look at it. We usually bring Denny a stuffed animal or other kid's toy to avoid being robbed blind.

Denny couldn't come to the funeral home, he wouldn't have understood. As the pastor delivered the eulogy, it was mostly okay. Grandma lived a long, happy life. There's nothing wrong with dying in your sleep when you're almost 93. But then this poem was read and I can't shake the emotion.

Grandma wrote this for Denny when he was a baby. He's 62 now.

Special Darling by Lillian Schalk

They say I must let you go little darling,
You can only bring heartache to me.
You're not like the rest of the children,
For you are retarded you see.

You don't speak or play like the others.
And I know you will never be free
To grow up and be someone special.
My sweetheart, you're special to me.

Friends don't know how much they hurt me,
When they say I must let you go.
Send you to a home and forget you,
And start living my life over anew.

This world is a cruel place, darling,
When parents won't look after their own.
You have a mother who loves you,
And will always keep you at home.

I will always take care of you sweetheart,
And do the very best I can.
Our Father in Heaven is helping
To care for my little man.



There was a luncheon at the house after Grandma's funeral. I took Denny a Daisy from the arrangement on Grandma's casket. He put it on the floor between the Pokemon cards Zane gave him and the picture I helped him draw the day before.

Marriage Monday--Camping Edition Redux (on Tuesday even)

Want this button?





Last month's topic was Recreational Companionship and I posted about our canoe/camping trip last year. It just so happens that Marriage Monday this month came during our now annual camping/canoe trip. This month we're delving into Why Romance Matters.

Are you kidding me? Along with communication, romance has to be one of the key ingredients to our marriage.

Stop. Get those images of flowers, chocolates, and expensive restaurants out of your head. You're at MY blog and we play by MY rules here. That is not what romance looks like for us.

I do not want to have my hair done, my nails polished (except my toes,) and I don't want to wear a dress. Or heels. Or God-forbid, pantyhose. ICK. I don't want to make reservations, eat at fancy restaurants, or go see movies. I don't want chocolate (okay, I really do, but not in the romance way that everyone thinks.) And I'll take my wine in a plastic cup by the campfire.


Webster's says romance is a love affair. I like that definition. Let me show you
what our love affair looks like.


Sunrises like this. Steaming cup of coffee in hand. Warm fire toasting our knees. Owls hooting, birds singing, raccoons full from getting into things overnight.

The smell of a campfire. All over us. Our hair. Our clothes. Our tent. Knowing that we'll be cooking something else over the fire and that it will be delicious. Except for the bottoms of the biscuits in the dutch oven--because I burn those every time.

Playing together.

Fishing together.

Exploring together.

Helping each other.



Romance to us is spending time together, cultivating our family, being together in God's nature and enjoying things we seem to forget to enjoy when we're at home with all the stuff, the clutter, the things that need to be done.