Down Home American Art

I have to tell you about the absolutely wonderful day we had today. We spent the day in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. It was a beautiful spring day. Perhaps the nicest day we've had in a long time here in New England. The air was thick with the scent of magnolias, plum blossoms and azaleas. The sun quickly warmed the cool morning air as we drove along, happily chatting about nothing in particular. Our destination for this lovely jaunt? The Norman Rockwell Museum. As much as I appreciate art, I mean, I love Monet's "Water Lilies" and Michelangelo's "Sistine Chapel" work. But this is Norman Rockwell! One of the most, if not THE most, influential American Artists of our time! Over a period of 47 years, he painted 321 covers for the Saturday Evening Post, not to mention all of the canvas work and advertisements, and photography.

The museum is nestled on 40 acres of land, along with Rockwell's studio which was brought piecemeal from the village to the Museum estate. Unfortunately, I was unable to take pictures inside the museum or studio, but copyright laws must be respected. As I walked through the museum, I began to see pieces that were familiar to me and other I was seeing for the first time. I tried to single out the one piece that I would love to purchase a print of to display in our home. Each painting I stopped at seemed to be the one. How could I decide? Then I had an epiphany. It would be unjust to decide on one print; each represented a picturesque portrait of American life. Not French, Spanish, or English. AMERICAN. The very essence of our existence as a country lies within each brushstroke on those canvases. We ended up purchasing just one print: "Stockbridge at Christmas" even though there were many I would have picked as well.

This is the view from the front of the studio. It's hard to see, but there is a small river meandering through the trees. We have already decided to come back in the fall to see the leaves change in this beautiful vista.

This is the studio. Scott asked if we could build something like this in our back yard. Since we have a small backyard, the answer is no, but it would be nice to not have to mow the lawn!

After the museum, we traveled down the road apiece to the town of Stockbridge and went to Michael's Restaurant for lunch. We had really good burgers that were HUGE! Then we walked around and found the Peace, Love, and Chocolate Chocolate Shoppe where Scott found his Boston's mint tea that he uses for iced tea. Whodathunk? Tea in a Chocolate Shoppe! Oh, and some toffee that was truly divine!

It was a beautiful day. As I write this at almost 11 pm it is still balmy and the smell of roasted marshmallows wafts in on the lilting breeze through the open window. My brain is playing a montage of the places I dream to take my kids to. Places from my childhood. Places I've never been to, but always wanted to see. I think this is the start of a great summer.

Portraits in Great Men....Or at Least Mine!!!

Let me tell you about my husband. He is my best friend and my hero. He has saved my butt numerous times....way too many to account in this blog. He is a confidante that I can tell my deepest dark secrets to. He knows my questionable past and is OK with it....as long as we don't talk about it too much. But let me start at the beginning.

Scott and I knew each other in high school. We hung out in the same social circles. He dated a friend of mine; I dated a friend of his. We never really hung out together, though...we just said 'hi' in the halls occasionally. When I finished college and moved home to stay, I was fresh out of a relationship that had gone nowhere. I called a friend of my mother's, who happened to be an ELCA Lutheran minister (I am ELCA Lutheran, as well) and we met for coffee. We talked about my rough and dysfunctional relationships. She then gave me some profound advice that sticks with me every day.

She said, "I'm going to tell you what my mother told me. Marry an nice Lutheran boy. And I did (she married a Lutheran minister)." Hmmm. Could that really work?

Shortly thereafter, I was pining to my best friend, Jen, about why I always attracted the bad boyfriends. She mentioned that she had seen Scott, home from the Marines, and that he looked really good. OK, I said....hook me up. She arranged for her and I, along with Scott and his best friend, to play tennis at the high school courts. We played tennis for a while and then I had to go to work. I called him the next day and he asked me out, but asked if I could drive as his car was in the shop. After a week-long whirlwind romance, I knew he was a keeper. Always the perfect gentleman, he put me on the proverbial 9th cloud. There were roses and gifts, cards and letters, the cute little novelties that would make most people groan in agony, made me giddy with delight. For a while, he worked for his mom's law office and one day when he had some extra time he typed up a legal docket, "suing" me for being "the most irresistible woman he had ever met." I still have that document as well as every letter he has ever written to me, good and bad.

One day, I was at home discussing my relationship with my mother. I explained that I thought Scott was "the one." Being the ever-conscious Lutheran that mom was, she asked, "Do you know whether he attends church, or what religion he is?" I explained that I had seen a mug at his mom's house with a picture of a church on it. It read 'St. Matthew's Lutheran Church, Allentown PA' but I didn't know if it was ELCA Lutheran or Missouri Synod Lutheran (trust me, there's a big difference!). My mother's eye's sparkled with joy, as she replied, "Allentown, Pennsylvania is the heart of ELCA Lutherans, my dear." Without even being present, Scott had won over my mother's heart! That was it! Done deal! I was going to marry a nice, Lutheran boy!

He proposed to me on Valentine's Day 1995, just 9 months after our first date. We set a date for the following August (the 17th to be exact). My mother, of course, would make my dress and I would wear my great grandmother's headpiece that has been passed down from generation to generation, spray painted various colors to match wedding dress colors, as well as silver and gold anniversaries (it served as the cake toppers for my great grandparents 50th anniversary and my grandparents 25th anniversary). My mother was looking through the old family Bible and discovered that my great grandmother had been married, and had first worn the headpiece, on....ready for it? August 17, 1884....exactly 112 years to the date of our planned wedding.

Fast forward to the present: 3 apartments, 1 fixer-upper house, 1 miscarriage, 1 set of twins, and 2 dogs (successively) later (you can read all about our "twinventures" in my previous posts, the house and dogs will be coming soon), we are still very much in love. We don't get to see each other as much, as our work schedules prevent it, but we try to make the best of every moment we have together. This past May, we renewed our wedding vows in Margaritaville in Las Vegas. It was almost 15 years to the day that we have been together. I can think of no one else I'd rather be with.

So back to the hero thing. Like I said, he has saved my butt many times and has put up with my bad decisions...although he does rub it in on occasion. I have been bull-headed about purchasing a new car...not once, but twice. I have a defect in my brain that fails to allow me to see my financial situation and how it may or may not change in the future. My darling husband has been kind enough to point out my bad decisions to me several times over the course of our relationship, even trying to sway me to cease and desist; however, my brain defect puts the blinders on and away I go, purchasing large items and pushing myself further into the credit hole (I have been good for a while, so I'm about due, dear, if you're reading this....dear? Just kidding).

Final example. He has warned me about downloading files from the internet. He has also explained that I need to do maintenance on my laptop routinely, so viruses don't pop up. Again, I seem to have another brain defect (a virus, perhaps?) that wipes out any computer maintenance knowledge that he has so wisely imparted in my direction. Yep, I got a virus. Not just any cute little virus that my ZoneAlarm could wipe out with a mere electronic bleep. No, I got the mother of all viruses...the Conficker....the one that wipes out all virus protection and proceeds to multiply at a rate that would make rabbits seem like oh, I don't know, any other animal that doesn't reproduce at the speed of light. My poor laptop was riddled with pop-ups and warnings. Every time I ran a virus scan 40 new viruses popped up. I would delete them and then 40 more would show up like relatives on the doorstep of the latest lottery winner. I was banned from connecting the internet cable to my laptop. I was further forbidden to touch any other computer-like device in our home that was connected to the internet. Perhaps I had, myself, been infected with the computer virus and could transmit this nastiness through the mere touch of my finger to the keyboard of an unsuspecting desktop? MUAAA HAHAHA! Wait. That was I dream I had. Sorry. More on my dreams in another post. Trust me you'll need to be one hell of a psychoanalyst to interpret my dreams (right, dear?)

Suffice to say, the final option was to take the diseased thing to Best Buy and have them wipe the hard drive. YIKES! Not only will I lose all my pictures and documents, it would cost me more money than I had in my savings account (did I mention that I had dug myself into financial ruin? I did? Oh, sorry, continue reading...)! I mourned over the loss of my computer (does this make me "laptopless?"). I went through withdrawal symptoms from lack of Facebook and Pogo. I was unable to afford to have it fixed, so it sat closed neatly next to the couch, suffering in silence. Scott had finally had enough of my sulking and went searching on his computer and found a way to wipe the hard drive himself. With surgical precision, he cleaned, updated, and protected by electronic baby; and after hours of intense sweating and nailbiting on my part, my computer was as good as new....literally right out of the box. No documents neatly stored in those folder icons. No pictures sticking out of said folder icons, either. The hard drive was blank. I was able to back up my pictures to a CD; however, I am in no uncertain terms allowed to upload the CD into any computer in this house. Ever. Even if I....No. Never. My only option is to take it to Walmart and print the pictures there. Needless to say, I am still working on a blank canvas; I can't remember what bookmarks I had saved in my favorites list, and have yet to send the bookmarked list from the other computer.

So now I have my laptop back (yes, I do weekly maintenance). My hero was able to save the day once again. I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! The only way I could think of (other than the obvious, dear!) to express my gratitude for, once again, bailing me out of my own mess, was to pay tribute to the wonderful man that I married by writing this blog for the whole world to see. Happy Father's Day, to my amazing husband, Scott!

Profiles in Great Children....Or At Least Mine....part 2

Now it's Heather's turn. Heather is a great thinker like her brother, but in a different way. Mike is "How-does-it-work?" smart. Heather is "Let's-read-and-find-out" smart. She always seems to have her nose in a book. She began reading the Harry Potter series in first grade and has finally completed ALL seven books. Did I mention she's in fourth grade now? She is the type of kid who can read two books at once and not get them confused.





Heather has always been a girly-girl. She is my mini-me. Her favorite color is pink. She adopted purple, too, because that's Mommy's favorite color. She would think she has died and gone to heaven if we decided to paint her room to look like the inside of a Pepto Bismol bottle. As a young child, she would wear every article of clothing PINK. Daddy would call her the "Pink Nightmare." She is my fashion consultant and helps me shop and pick out clothes with a "pop of color" or that perfect jacket that gives me an hourglass figure.





Ever since Heather was able to walk she has wanted to do ballet. She would even practice walking on her toe knuckles (ewww!). She is in her third year of ballet and she enjoys every minute of it. She would become a ballerina if the Marines offered dance class. Daddy is a Marine and Heather is Daddy's girl. She is the one who sits on his lap when we are watching TV. She knows how to turn on the big blue eyes and ask, "Daddy?" and he melts into warm puddle of "Yes, anything for you." (not every time, he says)








She loves to act and perform. She enjoys performing in the Sunday school pageant, but most of all she loves to create her own material. Her finest shining moment was the production she and her brother put on for the 63rd anniversary of the flag raising on Iwo Jima. They love to dress in Daddy's fatigues and salute the Marines in any way, shape, and form.






Heather likes music. She enjoys listening to most kinds of music. Her favorites are Hannah Montana, Phantom of the Opera, piano ballet music, and Journey. But she also likes to play the piano, air guitar, and she hopes to start trombone lessons in the 5th grade (guess who else plays the trombone? Of course, Daddy!)

This little girl has everything going in her favor. She smart and talented and has the confidence to go wherever life takes her and be successful.