Beating the Heat

I have discovered the perfect way to beat the 90 and 100 degree temperatures that we've been enduring here in the South.  Get out of town!!  Last week, LBeau and I did just that when we spent eight wonderful days in the Pacific Northwest, where the high never got above 75.  Here's a quick look at our trip with a few of my favorite photos.

After an early Tuesday morning flight to Atlanta, our Delta flight to Seattle was half an hour late departing (does anything run on time at ATL?).  But with the time change, we landed at Sea-Tac shortly after lunch and by 1:30, we were on our way to the Willamette Valley just south of Portland, Oregon.

Wednesday dawned crisp and cool, and we spent the morning driving through the beautiful countryside and touring the Domaine Drouhin winery, where we sampled some of the Pinot Noir that the Willamette Valley is noted for.

After a quick lunch, we visited the tasting room at the Carlton Winemakers Studio, where Jeff introduced us to some delicious organic wines.

Thursday morning found us on the road again as we headed out for a drive up the northern part of the Oregon coast.  The views from Highway 101 were magnificent. 

Beautiful rock formations…

Interesting lighthouses…

Dramatic drop offs…

And lots of these tiny espresso drive-ins.

Late that afternoon we arrived in Astoria, Oregon, where we had plenty of daylight hours left (it doesn't get dark until almost 10 p.m.) to visit Fort Clatsop and climb the Astoria Column, all 164 steps.  Unfortunately, LBeau will not let me forget that I made him stop part way up so that I could catch my breath.

Our hotel was right on the Columbia River and gave us a beautiful view of the Astoria Bridge, which spans the river into Washington.

Friday morning, we crossed the bridge and made our way to Bainbridge Island, Washington, home of our daughter-in-law Katie.  Her parents' home sits right on Puget Sound, where you can spend hours watching the boat traffic.

Once the fog burns off, you have a clear view of Mount Rainier in the distance.

And you might even get lucky like Brent and Matt with your catch of the day.  These red crabs from Puget Sound made a delicious addition to our omelet Saturday morning.

Sunday morning, LBeau and I headed out for a tour around the Olympic Peninsula with Brent, Katie and the grands.  Our first stop was Sequim, where the Lavender Festival was in full swing.

The view from Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park was spectacular, and the wildflowers were equally beautiful.

After a breakfast of French toast and more crab omelet, LBeau and I caught the Bainbridge to Seattle ferry Monday morning and headed south to get up close and personal with Mount Rainier.  Viewed from any angle, it is definitely a sight to behold.

 

Unfortunately, all vacations eventually come to an end.  We left Seattle Tuesday morning wearing blue jeans, long sleeve shirts and fleece vests.  It was 57 degrees.  We arrived in Birmingham at 10:30 that night.  It was 87.  I'm sure we looked strange to all of those travelers in shorts, t-shirts and flip flops.

If you plan a trip to Washington and Oregon, I would definitely recommend going in July.  Amazingly, we didn't have a single drop of rain.

Traveling is definitely one of my favorite things, so I’m heading over to Laurie’s blog party.  Y’all are welcome to join us.

 

When Did That Happen?

A friend, who shall remain nameless, was visiting the cosmetic counter at Belk's the other day when she made a horrifying discovery.  She was in search of a new brand of makeup, since her favorite brand has been discontinued.

Finding a new brand of makeup is about like trying to buy a new bra when they no longer make the style you've worn for years, so she tried out samples of lots of things.  As each one was applied, she gave her face a close scrutiny in the giant mirror on the counter.  And that's when she saw it—a rather large lump right on her jaw line.

"What's that awful growth?" she wondered.  "Do I have cancer?"

Turning her face to the other side, she was more astonished to see an identical growth on her right jaw.  She felt them gently with her fingertips.  There was no pain, so it didn't appear that she had injured herself.

It was then that she placed an index finger on each cheek, pushing her skin upward.  Miraculously, the growths disappeared.

"They were gravity sags!" she disgustedly announced.  "When did that happen?"

"Yep," I said.  "It happens to most of us."

My advice to her was this—don't ever look down at a mirror!

Smile, You’re on Candid Camera!

My very first camera was a Kodak Brownie similar to this one.  I used it to take pictures of my friends and family, first in black and white and later in living color.  It had a flash attachment that used disposable bulbs.  You had to buy a whole bunch of bulbs because each one was good for only one picture, and if you didn’t let the bulb cool before trying to remove it, you could get a nasty burn on your fingers.

This is a picture of my daddy and my cousin Mary that I took with my Kodak Brownie.  Appropriately, the pony was named Brownie.

I later graduated to a twin lens reflex that I used during my college days as a journalism major.  The journalism department at the University of Arkansas had a good supply of twin lens reflex cameras that we could check out for our photo assignments, but I was fortunate to have my own camera.  Daddy found me a good used one somewhere, that I continued to use until after the birth of my first child.  Here’s a picture of Hunter that I took with that camera.

Sometime in the '70’s I graduated to a single lens reflex.  My Canon AE-1 was a great camera and served me well for many years. But when the winder broke on a trip to Maine a few years ago, I finally moved into the world of digital.  Here’s one of the last pictures I took with my AE-1.

Since then, I’ve been through several digital point and shoot cameras, mostly Canons; however, ever since Canon introduced the first EOS Rebel digital SLR, I’ve wanted one.  A couple of months ago, I got my wish when I purchased a Rebel T1i.  With all of its bells and whistles, this camera is capable of so much more than “point and shoot,” but first I had to learn about those settings. So on the recommendation of a friend, I signed up for a class at the Birmingham School of Photography.

I still have a lot to learn, and there are other courses I want to take, but Paris Farzad taught me so much more than I could possibly have absorbed by simply studying the manual.  Our last class was a field trip to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens, where we practiced all kinds of neat tricks.

At the lily pond, we photographed dragonflies landing on the colorful flowers.

Using a fast shutter speed, we froze water.

And using a very slow shutter speed (1/4 second), we made this waterfall look painted.

Here’s another neat trick Paris taught us using a zoom lens.  The 18-55 mm lens that comes standard with most digital SLR’s is perfect.  Use a slow shutter speed (we used 1/4 second) and the appropriate aperture to give the proper exposure.  As you press the shutter release, zoom in on your subject, and you’ll get some neat star burst effects like I did with this pot of petunias.

I can’t wait to do some more experimenting with my new toy.  And with three grandchildren and several trips planned, I should have plenty of opportunities.  Meanwhile, I’m linking up with Laurie’s Favorite Things, because right now, photography is one of my favorite hobbies.  

What's In a Name?

I'm at that stage in life where people often ask me, "What's your grandmother name?"  I was reminded of that yesterday when Karen hosted a Sip 'N See so that we could meet her new grandson Cooper, who is three weeks old and was visiting from Mississippi.

For the moment Karen's grandmother name is Granna, but she reminded us that it would be whatever Cooper wanted it to be.  After all, bestowing grandmother and grandfather names is the awesome responsibility of the oldest grandchild.

LBeau and I, however, are the exception to that rule.  Oddly enough, our grandparent names were given to us not by Walker, our three-year-old grandson, but by one of our son Ben's high school friends.  My very first email address was kbeau@aol.com, so at some point Jason started calling me KBeau (pronounced kay-bow).  It stuck, and it naturally followed that Larry would be called LBeau.

When Walker was born, I said that I would answer to anything but Big Momma, but since I was already KBeau, I'd try to make that stick.  Fortunately, KBeau and LBeau seemed to be easy for Walker to pronounce, which was a good thing because Uncle Hunter tried his best to make me Big Momma.  Lucy, pictured here with KBeau, and Lauren aren’t old enough to call us anything yet, so we’ll see.

As the oldest grandchild on both sides of my family, I got to pick the names for four grandparents.  On my mother's side, there are 21 Reynolds cousins, and all of us called our grandparents Grancy and Poosie.

Grancy and Poosie on their 50th wedding anniversary

Grancy was probably derived from Granny.  Poosie came about because I couldn't say Bam Poo, which is what my mother wanted me to call her father.  They tried to get me to say "Bam Poo" because that's what Mother and her siblings called their own grandfather.  I'm guessing that Bam Poo was the result of some child's effort to say "Grandpa."

I really think some of the best grandparent names happen that way.  My friend Sherri wanted to be Honey, but when Grey started talking she became Sunny, which fits Sherri perfectly.

My paternal grandparents had more common names.  We called them Mema (pronounced Me-maw) and Papa (Pa-paw).  Papa was the postmaster in tiny Lewisville, Arkansas.  Like any good grandfather, he kept a photo of his grandchildren on his desk at work.

After Papa died, Mema began spending summers with us while Aunt Sissy, who lived at home, taught library science at East Texas State University in Commerce, Texas.  Mema couldn't sit still and was always cleaning up after us or doing other chores for Mother, which prompted one of my Reynolds cousins to ask why they didn't have a Mema maid.

This weekend KBeau and LBeau are lucky to have Lucy and her parents with us.  Next weekend we'll get to see Walker and Lauren.

I'd love to hear about your grandmother or grandfather names and how you came to be called that.  Meanwhile, I'm linking up (a little late) with Laurie's Favorite Things because being a grandmother has got to be the best thing in the world.

Beer Caps and Bottle Tops—A Sunday Favorite

I have a confession to make.  I have an ulterior motive in what I am reposting for this week’s Sunday Favorites, hosted by Chari at Happy to Design.

It is one of my favorite posts, and got 30 legitimate comments when I first ran it on March 3, 2009.  But it is also the post that is most often hit on by spammers promoting everything from Viagra to male enhancement drugs.

A few months ago, I started moderating my blog so that I could reject their nastiness before it got posted.  But I’m so afraid I’ll accidentally hit “publish” instead of “reject” that I’m trying a different approach.  By republishing it here, under a new title, and deleting the original (which I’ve never done before), I can hopefully preserve the post and foil the spammers.

Besides, any dad would love one of these for Father’s Day!

Several people have asked me to "show and tell" about my magnetic memo board, so today seemed like a good day. First, the idea idea was not original, but the best ideas are often the ones you "borrow."

 

I was with some friends at an inspiration home in town, sort of like a decorator showhouse but on a smaller scale. In the kitchen over the desk was this wonderful magnetic memo board that incorporated old bottle caps on the frame. Almost everything in the house was for sale, but when we looked at the price of $350 for the memo board, we decided we could make one ourselves. All we had to do was find a suitable frame, obtain some old bottle caps and purchase galvanized metal.

 

Frames for our first efforts came from Olde Time Pottery, a warehouse type store that sells everything from dishes and glassware to artificial flowers and framed "art." We didn't need the art, but we did need the frames, and finding the right kind of frame is not as easy as you might think. You need a frame that has a flat place on it that is wide enough for the bottle caps to fit.

 

EBay proved to be a great source for bottle caps. You can buy both beer and soft drink caps in all sorts of quantities, but I don't mix beer and soft drink caps on my boards, since they are not exactly the same size. I also like for each cap on the board to be different, so when I'm making a purchase on eBay, I study the picture carefully to make sure the lot contains a good variety of caps. When I'm doing a frame with soft drink caps, I always like to incorporate a Grapette cap if I have one, since Grapette was invented in my hometown.

 

The galvanized metal can be purchased from Home Depot in rolls large enough for several memo boards. Fortunately Glenda's husband is very handy with tools, so he always gets the job of removing the glass from the frames and cutting and installing the metal. Then he usually puts the glass back in the frame behind the metal to give it some support.

 

Since the backs of the bottle caps are hollow, we decided that we would need to glue something into the back of each cap before gluing it to the frame. We found the perfect thing when we discovered packages of small wooden hearts at Michael's. The heart shape wasn't important, but the size was just right. It's important to imbed the heart in plenty of hot glue (what did we use before glue guns) so that it doesn't turn loose from the bottle cap. Once that's done, you then glue the caps to the frame.

 

You can use any kind of magnet, but I always like to make magnets out of bottle caps by gluing a small round magnet into the back. You can also purchase these at Michael's or any craft store. Michael's also sells a frame that looks like old weathered wood. It's perfect for the memo boards as you can see on this one that I made for my sister-in-law Susie.

 

The Change of Life

LBeau went to the license office today to renew his driver’s license.  After taking his photo and typing in all of the vital information—address, weight, hair and eye color—the lady gave him a copy to look over to make sure all of the information was correct.

“You’ve got my hair color as white,” LBeau exclaimed.  “My old license had it as brown.”

“It pretty much looks white to me,” she replied.

I’m just glad she recognized that he still has some hair.

Anyway, it reminded me of my trip to the license office last October to renew my own license.  I decided that it was about time to correct the hair color on my license.  For four years, my license said I had brown hair, and I’ve always thought of myself as a blonde.

So when the lady handed me my information to check for errors, I politely  said, “Don’t you think we need to fix my hair color?  It’s not really brown.”

Looking at me, she agreed.  So she changed it—to gray!!

Sometimes it’s best to leave well enough alone.

LBeau and Lucy (it doesn’t look white to me)

The Mimosa Tree

Every year about this time in ditches along roadways all over the South, the mimosa tree dons its fuzzy pink dress to put on quite a show.

A native of China, the mimosa tree is considered by some to be a pest.  It seems to reproduce quite readily, and when the flowers begin to fade and drop, they can create a real mess.  However, I have a soft spot in my heart for the mimosa tree, a fondness which dates back to childhood.

My grandparents, Grancy and Poosie, had a large mimosa tree in their front yard, right in the corner between the driveway and the sidewalk.  When it became large enough for us kids to climb on, it also became a gathering place for important family events.

Each summer my Kisamore cousins would drive to Arkansas from Baltimore for a lengthy visit.  As the time drew near for their arrival, the Arkansas cousins would gather in the mimosa tree, craning our necks and concentrating on Highway 24 to see who could be the first to spot their car.  This was long before the first cell phone, so the wait was often several hours.

On other occasions, we watched impatiently for Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe to return from the state adoption agency in Little Rock with the newest cousin that would be added to our family.  Aunt Mary now lives in Grancy's and Poosie's house, but the mimosa tree is long gone.  I'm not sure whether it died or simply got too large and was cut down, but nevertheless each year when the mimosas begin their show of pink, I think back to those childhood days, and I smile.

Please join Beverly at How Sweet the Sound, as once again we celebrate Pink Saturday.