Family bonding; the sound of freedom; changing perspectives

Every summer my husband goes to the EAA AirVenture Oshkosh in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. It is a tradition.

He and several members of his very large family go up, tent camping for the week. Yes, I said tent camping. When we were dating, I never was very happy about his leaving me for a week to camp and look at airplanes - I mean, really, how many airplanes does one need to see? After we were married, I was a dutiful wife and camped for one or two nights, using portable toilets, giving up my precious air conditioning and showering in the little plastic cubicle with cold water squirting out of a kitchen sink sprayer.

A few years later, much to my great excitement, the facility got an upgrade and included flushing toilets in *some* areas of the campground! 

As our family has grown, our kids have become indoctrinated to this love affair with airplanes – thanks to my husband, my father-in-law, my brothers-in-law and many nieces and nephews. 

What I do love about the week is that my young daughters will have forever memories of campfires, planes, jokes, planes, hugs, planes, love, planes, tickle-fests, planes, s'mores and, of course, planes. Did I mention planes?

But they also learn independence - bus rides, flight instruction, living without electronics and survival without air conditioning. They see their cousins and watch them as role models. They spend a week living 24 hours a day with their uncles, cousins and their grandfather. It is a tremendous learning experience for them.

That they bond over airplanes – which terrify me – is beside the point.

I enjoy looking at and learning the history behind certain planes. I don’t enjoy the aerobatic displays; it seems not to be such a great idea to do crazy things with flying objects already seemingly defying the laws of gravity.

This year the F-22 Raptor flew overhead. It was insanely loud. I don’t really like loud. It unnerves me.

I was messaging an Air Force Veteran friend about how loud it was and how frightened I was by it, and she immediately responded with, “That is the sound of freedom.”

I love when people unexpectedly put me in my place and change my perspective with the swiftness and dexterity of a well-oiled machine -- er -- airplane.

It is true. While every year this one week is my husband’s dream vacation that I often feel like I put up with because I love the way it brings our family together, that one phrase changed my entire view. For the first time, I realized that the show is not a competition for pilots to show-off their talents and push the limits of aeronautics (well, maybe it is for some). No. There is a rich history of flight here. Moments like these - when the Raptor flew overhead or the Honor Flight left full of Vietnam Veterans - are a demonstration of the strength of our military garnered by those who study the history of flight and constantly work to provide unique aviation opportunities to our Air Force and for transportation for people around the world. The sound that makes me shudder with fear truly is one of freedom.

So, though I don't think I will ever become a pilot, I do cherish these days - days filled with history, love of family and appreciation of this amazing thing called flight. 

The Red, White and Blue

In the middle of summer is this wonderful day – a day to celebrate the birthday of our nation.

Aside from the al fresco eating, the fireworks displays and the parades, there is a deep-rooted history to think about.

My kids are spending some time learning about the Declaration of Independence, the mighty power of the pen and those who stood valiantly in support of our country.

We honor our nation’s birthday with red, white and blue. We are thankful for those who find their calling defending our nation. We feel blessed that, despite the chaos in our world, we live here, in the United States, where we are free to practice our faith, free to share our thoughts, free to start our families and free to pursue happiness.






My kids and I make patriotic crafts and read about the First Continental Congress. We make a strawberry (and blueberry) dessert with homemade whipped cream. We share the day with family and my husband looks forward to the fireworks.

Happy birthday, America! And thank you to those who make our country as great as it is!

One fateful caffeinated night, a forever friendship and the perfect summer night

One of my best friends came over today. We met way back when we were teaching high school together.

My fondest memory of her was right as Christmas break began. She and a group of teachers came over to make out Christmas cards – none of us had children at the time, so this was totally possible!

She had some tea and then this woman – whom I really didn’t know very well – asked if she could call me to let me know she got home OK.

“Sure,” I thought. I usually have friends call or text me when they leave late anyway – because I get worried about the country roads.

Well, this lovely woman called me  - a little after midnight. And, not only did she let me know that she was OK, but also told me her entire life story – in vivid detail.

That’s my kind of friend.

Well, really, it was the caffeine – my husband was in bed mouthing: “When are you getting off the phone?” And I was shrugging my shoulders wondering the same. As an hour or two passed, we finally hung up – I was a little wiser knowing so much more about this woman.

Turns out, that caffeine high started a pretty spectacular friendship.

We’ve shared difficult times, sad times, happy times, joyous times and just plain regular old normal times.

Tonight was one of those amazing normal times. We each have families now. We live farther apart. It is hard to see each other as much as we would like.

Tonight we slipped right into comfortable again – forgetting that months have passed without hugs, that kids have grown inches since the last time you saw them and that life has a funny way of keeping you busy. Tonight, time stopped. Tonight we just enjoyed the company of good friends.

The weather was amazing. The kids played outside all afternoon and evening. My husband grilled Moroccan chicken skewers. I made caprese salad with cinnamon basil from our garden. Her kids helped make homemade whipped cream (I forgot how fun two-year-olds are to bake with!). And, I made my traditional 4^th of July strawberry shortcake a few days early. That just means I can share the recipe with you in time for the 4^th!

Tonight it felt like we had never skipped a beat – that the rhythm of our friendship was never altered. ~It is lovely having a friend like that.

 

Strawberry Shortcake

~ I have had this recipe for quite some time now and made changes over the years. The blog I took the original recipe from has been deleted, so I can’t even link it to the owner. I wish I could!

The best part of the recipe is that you can put it in Ball jars and keep them in the fridge so they are ready as soon as your company is!

In a food processor, combine 2 cups white whole wheat flour, ¼ C. sugar, 3 tsp. baking powder, ½ tsp. salt, and ¼ C. butter (cut into small pieces). Add ¼ C. olive oil and ¾ C. milk slowly until the dough forms a ball.  Bake in a greased 8x8 pan at 450 degrees for approx. 15 minutes. Let cool.

My favorite part is cutting it up into squares, and mixing sliced strawberries in with it in a Ball jar and putting on the lid (and for some red, white and blue flare, add blueberries for the Fourth!) At serving time, throw on some fresh whipped cream.

1 C. heavy cream, 2 T. confectioners sugar – whisk until it has thickened.

~Enjoy!