Miscellaneous Photos of Miscellaneous Smith Miscellany

Here are few more pictures from our evening of Pancake Making and Tree Decorating.

In this picture, I was asking Nathan to please just do a "regular expression." You can see how well he listens to his mother. Sigh. I may need to think about returning him for a refund.






Our new kitchen finally feels like home, now that we've cooked our Christmas Pancake Dinner in it.




In case you're wondering, yes we were baking sugar cookies and cooking pancakes at the same time. Part of our tradition is to have sugar cookies and egg nog during the decorating of the tree and we hadn't gotten around to doing the cookies earlier in the day. So had a big ol', happy cooking mess!





Each year when we make the pancakes, the kids always (wistfully) ask if we might have any chocolate chips in the house. And each year I (regretfully) say that we don't. Until this year! We actually had chocolate chips! In the house! Hooray!






One of our church members gave us this ornament. (OBX stands for the Outer Banks, which is the string of barrier islands close to where we live.)



And speaking of ornaments, we asked Nathan to write on the bottom of the ornament he brought home from Jerusalem saying what year he bought it. (And do not even ask me why he's wearing shorts and a t-shirt in December. I think we've had this conversation before.)


A few views of the Smith Tree







Steve speaking at the candlelight communion service last night.



After the service, we came home and opened gifts. Steve always reads the Christmas story before the opening of the gifts commences.


One of the gifts which Nathan opened. There will be more written about this little fella--nicknamed the Money Monkey--in the next couple of days.


And now it's time to pack some stuff and hit the road for Charlotte! I haven't packed a suitcase in two whole weeks, after having packed one every week for several months.

I hope I haven't forgotten how. (Yeah, right.)

Nathan and Tree Decorating

We had a great night cooking and decorating the tree last evening. It was so special having Nathan back among us. You can tell that he has gotten a lot more serious and mature since the last time we saw him.



The Smith Men were helped by the Smith Doggie in their cooking tasks. (Although I can assure you that Snowy's interest was not altogether altruistic!)

I'll have more picture to post later but here is my favorite one of the night.

We're leaving the house in a few moments for our candlelight communion service, then we'll come back home and open our gifts. Tomorrow morning we'll head out for the 6-7 hour trip to Charlotte and come home late Sunday evening.

More later . . .

The Eaglet Has Landed

At 11:10 pm yesterday, Nathan walked up the steps to his new house. The home that he has never before seen.

He loved the entry way/living room/dining room area. (These pictures were taken before a recent dinner with friends.)










He made some prerequisite, affectionate, brotherly, snide comments about the immense size of Sarah's room.







Then he finally made it to his own room.





He lay down on his bed and, without a second's delay, we all piled onto the bed with him. Unfortunately, four people and a dog on a queen sized bed made for a bit of a crowded situation so we trooped down to the living room instead. We talked and laughed till about 1 am, at which time, I took my fatigue-encrusted body off to bed. (After sharing a good night hug with my favorite son.)

So happy my eaglet has landed. . . .

Delayed Homecoming Happy Ending

Steve and Sarah left for the airport in Norfolk about 45 minutes ago to collect a certain College Dude. (I decided to stay home and get a few things done in preparation for his Grand Arrival.)

They had only been gone about thirty minutes when Steve called to inform me that he'd just gotten a phone call from Nathan who was at the Orlando airport getting ready to fly out.

So that's a good thing, right?

Our College Dude had made it to the airport on time. He was all ready to go. Everything was hunky. Not to mention dory.

Except.

Except for the fact that his flight was leaving from the Tampa airport. Which is quite a long way from the Orlando airport. And Meagan had already left the Orlando airport. So he was going to miss his flight. And he didn't have anything else scheduled.

I went into Panicked Mother Mode. What to do? What to DO?

We had our traditional Christmas family supper planned for tonight and then we were going to put up the tree. Everyone was so excited to see him and we were all ready to don our happiest, welcoming-est faces as we showed him around our (and his) new house.

I placed an emergency call to my older brother, Tim, who has a contact for a great travel agent we've used in the past. Tim gave me the number, I said, "Sorry I can't talk longer," and immediately hung up to call the travel agent.

The agent chuckled sympathetically when I told him the dilemma and then said, "Tell Nathan to go straight back to the Southwest desk in Orlando before his flight is due to leave from Tampa. If he waits too long, and his other flight takes off, they'll just cancel him out of the system. See if they can move his flight to Orlando instead."

I thanked him, hung up in a hurry and got Nathan on the phone. Just as I was about to blurt out my invaluable, inimitable motherly advice he said, "I just went to the Southwest counter and for just $8 more, they booked me on a later flight. I can't fly out till 7, but everything's taken care of. Meagan's coming back and we'll just hang out around here until my flight leaves."

I felt sort of deflated. You mean he didn't need me to rescue him?

How sad is that?

And then I felt very proud. He didn't need me to rescue him. How great is that?

So now his arrival into Norfolk won't be until 9 pm and it'll be after 11 pm before he gets to the house.

But on the bright side, our son will learn to read his itinerary a little closer in the future. (I had booked the flight and just emailed him the info.) And also on the bright side, I learned that my firstborn child can survive just fine--650 miles away at the wrong airport--without his mama.

The pancake dinner and tree decorating can wait until tomorrow night. The important thing is that our son will be sleeping under our roof tonight.

And that's a delayed homecoming happy ending.

(An airport stop in August.)

He Was Holding My Hand

Yesterday morning as our music team was getting ready to rehearse, Terry, one of our singers, told us a story.

She works at the church's daycare and last Thursday morning, she was sitting in the sanctuary beside the children as they prepared to put on a Christmas program program for their parents.

Terry was sitting beside a particular girl (I'll call her Maggie) who had a speaking part in the program. A few minutes before the program was to begin, Maggie leaned over and confided worriedly, "Miss Terry, I'm afraid to go up on the platform. I don't think I can do my part."

Terry said, "You'll be fine, honey. Miss Sharal will be kneeling behind you on the platform and she'll help you if you forget the words."

Maggie said, "I'm still afraid. I don't want to do it."

Terry said, "Let's pray together and ask Jesus to be with you and to help you not be afraid."

They bowed their heads together and prayed and Maggie went up and did her part perfectly.

When the program was over, the parents and children went into the fellowship hall for a Birthday Party for Jesus, complete with snacks and a birthday cake. After the parents had finally left the bulding, one of the other little girls said to Maggie, "Well, it was a nice party for Jesus and everything but it was too bad he wasn't here."

Maggie responded, "Oh, but Jesus WAS here! He was holding my hand."

Butterscotch Apple Cake (And A Picture)

Before I give you the cake recipe, I wanted to post a collage of pictures from the cottage we borrowed for the two months leading up to our move to Manteo. That cottage was a life saver, an energy saver and a sanity saver, all rolled up into one quaint, sweet package.

Having a place to call home when our own home was in such a state of flux was a balm for our road weary, transition weary souls. Thanks again, Marie and Bibber for blessing our family with such a lovely place to stay.

And now, the recipe!

Butterscotch Apple Cake

1 C vegetable oil

2 C sugar

2 eggs

2 C all purpose flour

1 t. baking soda

1 1/2 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

1 t. ground cinnamon

1 t. vanilla extract

3 C finely chopped, peeled apples

1 C chopped pecans

1 C butterscotch morsels

Garnish: caramel sauce and whipped cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

1. In a large mixing bowl, mix together oil and sugar.

2. Add eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.

3. Add flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. Beat well.

4. Stir in vanilla, apples and pecans. (Mixture will be thick.)

5. Spread evenly in a greased 9x13 inch baking pan. Sprinkle butterscotch chips over the top.

(I dare you to look at this picture without gaining five pounds.)

6. Bake for 55 minutes. Cool completely in pan. If desired, garnish with caramel sauce and whipped cream.

Or else you can do like I do and warm each piece in the microwave briefly and top with the sauce and vanilla (or Heath bar) ice cream instead of the whipped cream.

The cake is moist, rich and downright delicious. It also travels and freezes well; you could divide the cake into batches of 4-6 pieces and freeze each batch separately. Then pull the cake out when you have unexpected company or the family is in the mood for a special dessert.

Manteo Loveliness. Questions and Answers.

One of the many things I like about Manteo is the fact that as you're driving along the main road through town (seeing hotels, churches, gas stations, and stores on all sides), suddenly you come upon scenery like this.











Now let me just reiterate that these pictures were not taken out on some distant country road. They are right smack dab in the middle of the main drag through town. The first time we drove through Manteo and I saw all that natural beauty I just knew Manteo had to be a special town.

And it is!

Today, life in the lovely town of Manteo will consist of home schooling followed by a frantic drive over to "civilization" this afternoon to do Christmas shopping. (When I say civilization, I mean that it takes at least 20-30 minutes to get to any of the major stores.)

And since our tree is not even out of the box and we have not wrapped even one present (Um. Could Christmas be only one week away?) Steve and I figured that it might be a good idea to disengage ourselves from the unpacking of the boxes and embark upon the purchasing of gifts. And the wrapping of gifts. And the putting up of the tree.

Actually, we are going to just partially put up the tree and wait to put the ornaments on when Nathan gets home Monday. But at least we can get it out of the box (yes, it's artificial) and plug it in. (Yes, it's pre-lit.)

And yes, we're a bit lazy in the sense that we do not hook up our team of horses, brave howling blizzards, fend off wild wolves, and forage through forests and fields in order to find the perfect fir.

However, I will tell you that Steve found the fortitude and courage to venture out into the after-Christmas melee a few years back where he braved the traffic and crowds and courageously fended off two aggressive women who were desperately in love with "our" tree and its hugely discounted price. I think sometimes it would be easier to chop down a fir in the forest than it would be to survive those crazy, post-Christmas hordes of bargain hunters.

But I digress.


Before I sign off for the day, I'm going to answer a few questions that have come in lately. And then I shall be off to the happy craziness of the day!



Jenna asked, "Becky,I'm constantly struck by how happy and passionate about life your family is, and how well both of your kids are doing in a large variety of areas. With my own motherhood impending (we are adopting a 9 year old and should have her home within a month) I'd love to hear about the things you feel are important for raising kids such as yours who are happy, love both God and their family, and are just generally all around well adjusted and good people.

Our little girl has faced great hardship and neglect in her early years, and my biggest dream for her when she comes to live with us is that we can give her a sense of safety, family, and love.

Jenna, may I first say that what you are doing for this little girl is a gift beyond measure. You have chosen to walk a challenging road in order to bring hope and light into the life of a child who sounds as though she has been in some pretty hopeless situations. Sharing your love and your heart with this child will be the hardest, happiest thing you've ever done and I so admire you for this incredible commitment.

Having said that, I really don't feel like I am terribly qualified to give parenting advice since I've sort of muddled my way through the experience like most parents. There are no manuals that could ever prepare any of us for the challenges involved in this wonderful calling! Thank you, though, for your kind words regarding our family; we were honored by them.

You said in your question that your main goal for your new daughter is to give her a sense of "safety, family and love." I couldn't have said it any better myself! In fact, that was exactly how I was planning to answer when I first started reading your question: she needs unconditional love and unquestioned security.

You're already exactly on the right track and I'm not sure I could anything additional to that insight you already have. You also have the additional benefit of being uniquely called to mother this particular, specially chosen child and with that calling will come the extra equipping of wisdom, strength, and patience you will need for each situation as it arises.

I know that the other Smithellaneous readers who saw your question join me in wishing you all the best as you embark on this exciting new chapter in your family. We're all pulling for you and hope that you will keep us in touch with how things go.

Blessings to you and your family.

_______________________

And on a less serious note . . .

Chris P. asked, "What is the paint color called that you used in Steve's office?"

Chris, all we know is that it came from Ace Hardware and was called D20-5 Bainbridge. It IS a pretty color, isn't it?

_______________________

Anon asked, "The two rugs in his office look identical Which one is smaller?"

In the picture with the blue wall, the rug is a 5x7. In the other pictures with the green wall, the rug is the next size up. (Whatever that size is--I can never remember.)


Catherine said, "How about a recipe for that apple/butterscotch combo? Sounds interesting."

I'll be posting that (yummy) recipe soon.

__________________________


NSB Mom asked, "How do you like Manteo? I spent some time in Buxton a few years back."

We are lovin' Manteo! (And Buxton is a cool place too; we did a couple concerts there "back in the day.")
___________________________

Mrs Pam said, I love all the Christmas decorations in your church. Do you have an altar or chancel area or just a stage? We don't decorate for Christmas in the Episcopal Church until after the fourth Sunday of Advent.

Our church doesn't have a chancel area, or really an "official" altar area like there are in most Episcopal churches. However, the area around the edge of the platform is many times used when people come forward to pray. And yes, I also love those beautiful decorations!

Mrs. Pam also asked, "How exciting for Megan! Does she plan to teach children who are deaf, or did she learn sign language for another reason?"

Meagan doesn't really know sign language; she just learns the signs for the songs that she performs. As I've said before, I could watch her do those songs all day long; they are truly lovely.

Chased By A Giant Slug

For the past few weeks, I've noticed that there has been a "slug trail" on the rug at the bottom of our garage stairs that lead up to the kitchen door. Every time I'd walk on that rug, I'd shudder just a little because I'm not overly fond of slugs and the thought that one was lurking somewhere in the garage did not bring peace, happiness or serenity to my little, ol' slug-hatin' heart.

Well, Monday night I had to go out into the garage for something. I put my foot on the first step into the garage, looked down and there on the stairs. Was. The. Slug.

I stared.

I shrieked.

I threw my hands up in the air and fluttered them wildly.

I jumped up and down.

I shrieked again.

And then I turned and ran back into the house.

My gym mates would have never even recognized me. The slow moving, forty-something woman on the treadmill who plodded along beside them week after week had been miraculously transformed into a gold medal runner.

I flung myself through the kitchen. I screeched around the corner. I sprinted down the hall. I hit the stairs at warp speed squared, all the while imagining that the slug had suddenly grown into a nine-foot creature and was, at that very moment, racing behind me through the house, breathing down my neck and plotting (in his little slug brain) my imminent capture and eventual demise.

I thundered up the stairs, feet pounding in horror, heart beating in terror, mind bursting with the dreaded "slug news" that I would have to share with my unsuspecting family.

I flew around the corner of the bedroom where Steve was seated placidly in a comfortable chair, calmly reading a book. He had obviously heard me coming (who could miss the sound of all that gasping and galloping?) and stared at me in some curiosity, waiting for me to catch my breath and find the words that would best express the magnitude of the situation to his husbandly ears.

I was finally able to gasp out the hideous, horrible, horrendous news.

"Steve! There. Is. A. Slug!" (I almost added, "And it's chasing me up the stairs" but I wisely opted not to.)

Steve stared at me and I stared at him and then I repeated myself in even more hysterical fashion. "A slug! Downstairs! In the garage! Do something!"

Now obviously Steve knew this wasn't an emergency. This was not a nine-foot rattlesnake curled up in the living room, nor a rabid raccoon racing through the dining room. This was a slug.

Slugs, by their very nature, are sluggish. Slow moving. Non panic-inducing.

However, Steve has been married to me for a long time and he is smart and wise enough to know that anything that causes me to sprint and thunder around the house deserves his immediate attention. (Sprinting and thundering are not on my usual list of daily activities.)

So he mustered up some alacrity and some sense of urgency (so that I would be impressed by his great husbandly concern) and diligently plodded downstairs to deal with this threat to Homeland National Security, not to mention Smith Wife Happiness.

I stayed upstairs in the bedroom, wringing my hands and hoping against hope that the slug had not by that time, grown to fifteen feet, attacked Steve and carried him away to the dreaded Kingdom of the Slugs.

Then the thought occurred to me that I should go and share the news with Sarah so that she would be prepared to run for her life should the slug escape from Steve and come running after her as well.

She listened calmly to my ranting, watched curiously the flinging of my hands in the air and gave me the most sympathetic look she could muster in the face of this extreme non-emergency.

A few minutes later, my own personal Sir Galahad returned from his mission. He did not thunder or sprint or wring his hands. He merely stated with the greatest of masculine calm, "Dear, the slug is now outside."

I shrieked, "You TOUCHED it? You got NEAR it? You saw it up CLOSE?"

Another round of hand wringing and hand flinging followed at the very thought of having actual contact with the terrorizing creature. I finally sat down in a chair in the bedroom and started to take DEEP breaths.

By this time, Sarah had joined Steve in the room and they gathered around me, trying to express their great sympathy and compassion in the best way they could, while all the while attempting to keep themselves from giggling out loud at my unaccustomed display of drama.

When Steve finally realized that I was going to survive the trauma and was becoming a little more calm he said, "I bet you went through all these theatrics just so that you could have a new blog story to write."

Sarah burst out laughing and said, "Yeah, Mom! You just wanted something to write about on the site!"

I put on my most offended face and said, "I am NOT going to write about this!"

And they said, "Yeah, right."

And I thought to myself, "Well, maybe . .