Raspberries and Cream

I am blessed to have a Mom who gets me a lot of  "pursizes," as I used to call surprises when I was little.  Mom would give us surprises, or "deservements" as my brother called them, during The Wonderful World of Disney, National Geographic specials, and Flipper.  I think he confused the word "dessert" with "deservement" or else he had an entitlement mentality as a three year old. He would also cry if there was whipped cream on anything he was served, which makes him subsersive as far as I am concerned.  One can never have enough whipped cream.

I ended up making a lovely breakfast from the raspberries and the chocolate chip bread she brought me from Fresh Market.

That tea cup belonged to my grandmother and is very special to me.  The big pitcher below was a gift from my fellow junking/thrift store friend, Nancy.  She gave it to me for my birthday filled with pink peonies.   Not only is it lovely to look at, but the smooth finish on the outside feels wonderful in my hands.  Nancy is the kind of girl who leaves fresh vegetables on your front porch just because and remembers that you like to eat quinoa when most people don't know what quinoa is.

The French call raspberries "framboise" which is much more elegant.  Framboise are a favorite fruit.  I love their texture and the way they burst into your mouth in that ripe, ruby sort of way.  Thanks, Mom!

Doe, A Deer

Few things make me happier than going on a little adventure with my man.  We don't have big, giant adventures like climbing Everest or traveling for an ecological vacation to the Galapagos Islands.  We have wee little adventures like, "Hey, honey, let's just go onto Route 10 and drive!  That's where we find amazing little hamlets like Rescue or Battery Park, Virginia.  That's how I found the spot where my 4th Great Grandfather was captured during the Civil War at Bermudas Hundred. FYI, he escaped and walked home.  We Galvins are a tough bunch.

On our most recent adventure, we ended up at the Coast Guard Base at Yorktown, Virginia, along the James River.  This little jewel is a training facility, but an amazing amount of history of our earliest years as Americans remains in place.

The first church at Yorktown, in fact one of the first in the country, was originally on this base.  The site is commemorated with historical information. That early church became Grace Episcopal Church, where my friend Suzanne is music minister. Their silver communion set (a plate for the wafers and a cup for the wine), is the oldest one in continuous use in this country. 

The book of Hebrews talks about the "Communion of the Saints."   All followers of Christ, either alive or in Heaven, share in that same fellowship of believers.  I like to think of all of them, as in the stadium image St. Paul gives us, watching and cheering us on from above saying, "Go, go, go...run that race before you."   Kind of like The Wave or the 7th Inning Stretch, but way better and with nicer team jerseys.  So many of them gone before, who received bread and wine from the same silver service that saints today still use.

The base also has preserved a trench used during what is referred to by some here in Virginia as, "The War of Northern Agression."  I like to think of that War as, "God doesn't think it is too cool for people to own their fellow human beings."  Check out Exodus to see what He thinks.  Hope we cleared that up, peeps.

The sweetest part of the day was seeing this deer.  Apparently the deer on base are utterly tame and protected, because she wasn't at all concerned. about the likes of us  In fact, she looked at me sitting in the car with grave curiousity until I felt like one of the monkeys at the zoo.  The little deer happily ate acorns and grass, but clearly was unimpressed by the human natural habitat (the car) display.  Check out her long eyelashes in the first pic.

And adventure I tell you...they're all around.  It's the journey, not the destination!

Diamonds in the Dust

I spent a recent afternoon at the Chrysler Museum across the harbor in Norfolk.  It was so warm in the bright afternoon sun that the heat felt like a blow as I got out of the car.  The Chrysler was cool, elegant, and inviting in the midst of all that.

I love the Degas, Renoir, and Dali paintings which are part of the permanent collection.  However, I also like to catch up on the new exhibits.  Two different photography collections were being shown.  One was called City of Light in which black and white photographs from back in the day were shown, many of them depicting various spots in New York City.  The other collection were photographs taken by Baldwin Lee of lower income African Americans from the deep South, full of pathos, suffering, and one that made me laugh out loud.

The star of this exhibit for me, however, was in a space which occupies a long hall directly across from the lovely little restaurant.  The installations change season to season.  The current work was created by  New York artist Judith Braun who used only charcoal dust and her fingers to create this amazing mural..  The notes regarding her work shared that she was fascinated to think that the human body is composed mainly of carbon, as was the dust she used to create.

I sat there a long time in the midst of a chaotic week absorbing the peace of this mural.

Learn more about this work here:

http://www.chrysler.org/exhibitions/diamond-dust/

Auntie Mame and the Police Academy

I've been trying to figure out how to sum up the police academy experience.

I accomplished things that I never thought I could.  I got OC sprayed (pepper sprayed) directly in my face and eyes and proceeded on to the required fighting without decontaminating first.   Being OC sprayed, without a doubt, was the most painful experience of my life.  It hurts terribly initially and then gets more and more intense.  No amount of washing it off seems to help much.  Only time really works.

After we all decontaminated and showered, we headed down to dinner. Most of our faces were on fire.  No one felt much like eating.  Some of the instructors put bottles of hot sauce down in front of us.  Ha ha.

I was amazed to see myself later on video on the big screen walloping a punching bag and hollering while I counted out the requisite number of hits.  I took down my defensive tactics partner (a male SWAT medic) three times.  He actually said "ouch."

My defensive tactics sergeant stopped the class and said, "Everyone, look at Annie."  My heart stopped because I thought he was going to ridicule me. Then he said, "Do it just like she's doing it."  There was only one person in my class older than I.

On the other hand, life with four women sharing two bunk beds and 8 women sharing a shower and a bathroom was challenging for me.  I abhor being in close proximity with a group of people I don't know. I crave privacy and down time.  If it wasn't for the three free hours we had a day and a one-hole bathroom at Starbucks with a door that locked, I think I'd be dead.

After not being able to sleep for two nights, I ended up going down to a bathroom that had a little lounge area on the first floor, near a big classroom that didn't seem to be in much use.  I get up frequently at night to use the bathroom (I pee, therefore I am) and cringed every time I had to flush loudly in the hearing of 7 other extremely tired women.  I would sleep with my clothes on, wrapped up in a quilt, trying to nod off while listening to Joyce Meyer podcasts from my cell phone.  Thank you, Joyce.  If I got two hours a night, it was a lot.

One night at four a.m. I woke to see three male trooper trainees standing in front of me - inside the ladies room. These poor slobs have the extreme honor of being charged with unlocking all the doors and turning on the lights before the rest of the trainees have to get up at 5 to go running.  They said, "Ma'am, we didn't expect to see a woman asleep in here," I said, "That makes us even because I'm not used to seeing three guys in a ladies room." They said they were turning on the lights.  I noted that they were already on.

Since nothing goes unnoticed at that institution,  I mentioned the incident to the Sergeant who was in charge of us.  He thought it was hilarious.  Later, he planned to razz them for not securing the "homeless" woman the bathroom.  This was funny, but I have to add that I had some miserable hours trying to sleep there.  Dark, scared hours.  This has nothing to do with the academy or its staff because people sleep successfully there every night, but more to do with my own chronic insomnia in tense situations.

A big shout out to the Chesterfield, VA Starbucks on Midlothian Turnpike (Route 60) who all kept my sanity.  I was able to get email, have a latte, and relax for a while.  Thank you to everyone there.

Many of my friends like Terry, Jim, my beloved Suzanne, Nancy, Lt. Jackson, Jason, and also my Mom, Dad, and sister were a huge support.

Another shout out to my Bruce who followed me up to Chesterfield to ensure that nothing happened on the way, came up Wednesdays with the dog to have dinner with me, and even drove up on a Monday to bring the mouth guard I had forgotten so my teeth wouldn't get punched out.  You think romance is about thong underwear, chocolate and champagne?  Love is...bringing a pink mouth guard north in a 3-hour round trip.  For the record, I have nothing against pretty underwear, a toast, or chocolate. Definitely not against the chocolate.

So even with the uncomfortable times, I was grateful to be chosen to be there. Going to police academy training at 51 is proof of God's grace, his sense of humor, and is proof that he does, indeed, give us back the years that the locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25).

I embark on a new career with the Sex Offender Investigative Unit in which I can use my education and my previous experience to directly affect public safety and be a minister of justice.  That is huge for me.

I guess I can sum it up with these lyrics from Auntie Mame:

Open a new window
Open a new door
Travel a new highway
That's never been tried before
Before you find you're a dull fellow
Punching the same clock
Walking the same tightrope
As everyone on the block
The fellow you ought to be is three dimensional
Soaking up life
Down to your toes
Whenever they say you're slightly unconventional
Just put your thumb
Up to your nose
And show them how to 
Dance to a new rhythm
Whistle a new song
Toast to a new vintage
The fizz doesn't fizz too long
There's only one way to make the bubbles stay
Simply travel a new highway
Dance to a new rhythm
Open a new window every day!

The incomparable Angela Lansbury as Auntie Mame sings it stirringly to her nephew Patrick here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v648wU0x63k


Ignore the stuff about Edison, just listen to the sound track.  I love show tunes. I always loved Auntie Mame, but now I get to be Tia (Auntie) Annie, which is even better.  Compliance Officer Tia Annie.

Virginia State Police Academy

Bad hair day.
   Terrible camera angle
        Lifelong dream realized


2,600 applicants
43 selected for further review and investigation
20 made it
I was one of them.

Let the Vintage Games Begin

I'm not sure who is more obsessed with Scrabble tiles, me or Judy.

Maybe me.  That's my Grandmother Dunn's high school graduation pic.  I don't think she minds being under glass.

If you look in the upper left, you can see a crack in the plaster.  I kind of like it there.  It is the calling card of that freak Virginia earthquake last year.  The living room floor kind of roiled and Bruce said, "Geeze, those trucks going down Booker Street get bigger and bigger."  Twenty seconds later, my phone started ringing off the hook.  I am apparently the seismic expert of my neighborhood, which would come as a huge shock to Mr. Pacquette, my earth sciences teacher.

A little borrowing from Mr. Dickens.

I cannot remember where the door knocker came from.  She's holding a pomegranate in her hand and has a ring on her finger.  We'd call her "Thing" like in the Adam's family, but it seems sort of overly-familiar and Cousin It just seems disrespectful.

Refreshed Summer Mantel

Happy Independence Day!

Feeling in a summery mood, armed with a 40 percent off coupon from Michaels and some cool stuff from the attic which I hadn't had out in a few years, this is what I came up with.  The extra shells I needed were whatever $4.99 minus 40 percent is.  My friend, Suzanne, who is reading this already knows how much that is.  I don't and I don't care that I can't.

I was looking through this book for inspiration and realized that the actual book would look perfect right here.  My friend, Nancy, brought me some peonies in that mason jar.

The bird and the sailboat were on my porch one year.  I like them better inside.

Andy Griffith 1926-2012

Oh, dear.  I know you are with your Lord, but I weep.  Every time I visited Manteo, NC not too far away, I felt happy to know that you lived there. Bye, Andy.  I will miss you.  

The link below is a real treat of Don and Andy talking about the show on Today years ago:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ahbyf9cbEU&feature=related

It has never been off the air since its inception, which says quite a lot.

Sound of Music Sing Along

I did the coolest thing when I was in Atlanta.

My sister and I were shopping in “Rustique.”  She typically listens to Christian radio, but a secular station was playing that morning.  And behold, the station broadcast tidings of great joy!  A sing along version of the Sound of Music was arranged at the historic Fox Theater in downtown Atlanta two days hence.

I love TSOM, but my sister is a demented fan and has seen it hundreds of times.  However, due to our big age gap, she had never seen it on the big screen the way I first did.

We started our special outing at Mary Mac’s Tea Room, an Atlanta institution since just after the Second World War, when women widowed by the war started little restaurants to support themselves.  

The term “tea room” was thought to put a little genteel finish on it; I agree that the term "tea room" has a certain cachet.

I had a noteworthy salad, and corn bread with “pot likker” for the first time.  My nieces had grilled cheese and chicken and dumplings, while Sis had country fried steak.  The service was superb,  I felt that I had a little slice of the past, a glimpse into a Southern world which really doesn’t exist anymore.

Then off the Fox, an Art Deco jewel.  

Imagine if you will, a huge theater of people warming up for the big event by singing, “Yodalay-hee, Yodalay-hee, Yodalay hee-hee, Yodalay hee” from the “Lonely Goatherd” song.  Before the big show, there were look-alike contests of everyone from Rolf (Nazi telegram boy) to the Baroness. 

We were given little goodie bags with signs to hold up, silk edelweiss to throw, and little poppers to make noise with when Georg von Trapp kisses Maria for the first time.  We “do a deared” and “climbed every mountain,” and “so-longed and farewelled.”  We booed Nazis and hissed at the Baroness.  And an incredibly good time was had by all.  All the lyrics were subtitled on the screen, but I doubt anyone needed them except maybe for "Something Good."

Can you think of a more perfect day?  And with that said, “Adieu, adieu, to you and you and you!”

Today's Blessing

Bless the LORD who daily loadeth us with benefits.  Psalm 68:19

Bruce went to our not-favorite-but-closest store this morning for peaches to put on top of our morning oatmeal.  As he checked out, the cashier asked him how we was doing.  He replied, "I'm blessed by the Best and prayin' for the rest."  Two bouquets were left at the check out area. She picked them up and said to him, "These are free if you want them."

He came home with these:

I added in a few things from the yard to bless three rooms in our home.

Fried Green Beans

Suzanne and I had a lovely day on Wednesday.  We went out to what is known as the "Northern Neck" of Virginia in her little Miatta convertible.  This is a rural country area with old homes and little summer cottages along tidal estuaries and the Chesapeake.

We stopped for lunch and some vintage shopping, where I got the "lawyer's case" for my office.  The restaurant is in the old Richardson's Drug Store.  I had lobster bisque and a salad, but Suzanne got kinda cra cra and ordered FRIED GREEN BEANS.

I was intrigued, especially when she pointed out that onion rings aren't so very different.  These were truly delicious, with a spicy batter on them and more of a snap than onion rings.  How do I know?  She shared.

Home Depot's Personal Customer Service

Bruce's cousin Andy posted this on Facebook.  I thought it was hilarious.

Baggage – Metaphorical and Otherwise

I’m embarking on a new stage in life.  God’s given me a miracle and shown His incredible sense of humor at the same time.  The Virginia State Police Academy at 51?  You betcha!  He’s not kidding when He says, “I will give you back the years that the locusts have eaten” (Joel 2:25).  More on that later; the big day is July 9.    He is faithful to that promise.

So, I need a better home office and filing system as a result.  I will have case records and files which I need to store and carry to court.  I lost my work desk when I set up my breakfast nook and sitting on the couch with the laptop won’t cut it.  My friend, Joe, had some vintage suitcases which he dropped off to me…white with a red silk lining.  They got my creative juice flowing.

I went to visit my sister in Atlanta before entering the Academy.  We were visiting an amazing store called Rustique.  I found two more vintage suitcases, one with the coveted labels on the leather indicating the places or hotels visited.  

My Papa built the desk for me when I was in junior high.  I picked up the last suitcase needed, one designed for attorneys, with my friend Suzanne yesterday in a vintage shop.  She spied it first, but in characteristic generosity, handed it over to me.

I set up my office and then realized that there was an enormous metaphor for life among the “baggage.”

I’ve been working through some exceptionally painful issues from my formative past.  It has been hard, frustrating work in which I mopped up some of the dirt and crud from way back when, blew the cobwebs away, and started out with everything clean and fresh.

The chair belonged to my grandfather Galvin who died when I was 18. That chair has been vacant for a long time.  Father, as we called him, was a Yale law school graduate.  As I embark on my career with the law, I am occupying that seat 33 years later.  One chair wheel was broken, so Bruce replaced them all.

There was a kind of icky worn leather seat which I thought I’d use a cleaner on and perhaps put something else on top.  I thought the cushion was part of the chair.  I turned the chair upside down, cleaning away the dust and cobwebs from the bottom.  Then I used Murphy’s Oil Soap to clean the wood on the bottom and that clean smell permeated the foyer. 

I turned the chair right side up and the nasty old cushion flew off.  Underneath was caning in perfect condition.  I see it as my Grandmother Helen’s last gift to me.  Caning is a lost art these days, but she loved it on a chair.  She had a “man” who did her caning for her out of his garage.  She must have put the leather seat down to protect the caning.  I think it is beautiful.

Now I have an office that I love.  My Papa built my desk.  My husband helped stabilize and repair the chair, just as he does for me emotionally.  It symbolizes a family history of devotion to the cause of justice. My beloved sister and friends helped me create that suitcase stack. 

With God’s help, behold, all things are new again...even the old stuff that I love.

Suzanne and "The Irish Show"

Wow, I cannot believe I spelled Busch Gardens wrong in my last post.  I know that blog etiquette says I shouldn't go back and fix my error, but ha ha, I did anyway.  Good GOSH, how did I miss that for so many years? I guess you can believe me when I say I don't like amusement parks, I can't even SPELL amusement park.

My friend Suzanne is on the stairway with the accordion.  She truly is an amazing woman.  She plays so many instruments that I've lost count.

She's the Queen of Frequent Flyer miles.  Suzanne is the only person I know who actually likes to fly these days.  Earlier this year, she flew to Hong Kong.  Now if memory serves me correctly, she wasn't there even 24 hours.  She never stayed in a hotel.  Instead, Suzanne took in the sights, rode the famous cable car, had a great Chinese dinner and flew home.  You know what she does with the miles she accumulates?  Well, she sent her parents to Hawaii and she will donate frequent flyer miles to "starving artist" musicians who don't have enough money to fly to a promising audition.

Playing at Busch Gardens is something she does once a week just for fun.  She is also a gifted church organist and choir mistress.  She plays as a piano accompanist at a local university.  Suzanne composes music. She also plays the flute and the bassoon on a professional level.  Suzanne also sings beautifully. But Busch Gardens is just for fun, where she blesses friends with comped or discounted tickets.

Something in my DNA really resonates when I watch Irish step dancing and hear Irish music.  I'm 100% Irish and proud of my heritage.

Busch Gardens Part One

I am not a fan of amusement parks.  I don't need a park to amuse me. I amuse myself pretty well without having acres dedicated to my potential amusement.

However, my friend Suzanne is a musician at Busch Gardens.  When she offered me free tickets to see her perform in an Irish show at the park, how could I refuse?  I was gratified to note that Starbucks Corporation and Busch Gardens finally recognized what the true name of the famous coffee establishment should be.

I didn't go on any rides.  Not a single one.  Totally disinterested,  I really enjoyed my little train ride through the park and all the animals, though.

What a handsome boy.

Here he is chilling at the end of the day

The park has a habitat for magnificent rescued bald eagles.

And a wolf habitat.  This one is snoozing in the late afternoon.

He's in the upper left of the pic.  As laid back as he is, they keep him far away from these guys:

These birds don't even look real to me; they look like you need to plug them in or add batteries:

Irish Fyre is next!

Genesis

She moved in next door not long ago.  I learned yesterday that her name is Genesis.  She is only five, but knew exactly how to spell it.  I asked her if she knew where her name came from. She said, "my Daddy."  True enough, but not quite in the way that she meant it.  I picked up my Bible from the porch table and pointed out her name there right at the beginning. She was delighted.

The Bible tells us to make it our ambition to lead a quiet life and mind our own business.  I try to, I really try. But Genesis is out unsupervised on a busy street for more time than I am comfortable with.  Her mother is overwhelmed, I am sure, by two younger children.  However, leaving a five year old out unsupervised for 45 minutes to an hour scares me to death.  I am praying to figure out what Jesus wants me to do in addition to loving this child for Him.

So Genesis and I had a talk as we watched the butterflies flit around the cottage garden. That's all I could think to do yesterday.

Update:  I talked to my neighbors on the other side, wonderful Christians with kids the same age.  We decided that God must have put this young family in our midst for a reason. We agreed to be praying and help out whenever we could..  They invited the new family to a spaghetti dinner and dessert auction  at church two blocks away and the new family was glad to go.