Up In The Air

No idea where or when this was taken.  I definitely see Connor's face in mine, here, though.

Purple Knit

Love this one.  Check out that hair!

Grandparents

A woman I work with became a grandparent this week and two of my dearest friends, Jeff and Margaret Ann already are grandparents.  Gosh, that makes me feel old!  (For the record, they are young and fabulous looking grandparents.)  It got me thinking this week about how much I loved my grandparents and how important they were to me. 

I started picking through my pile of items for this blog and came across a yellow envelope packed with things that my Mom must have gathered from my grandmother's house after her death.  Its full of cards and letters I'd written to them, my wedding invitation, a small bible, a handkerchief (?), and a tiny A&P encyclopedia from 1901. 

My Pop Pop died in 1976 when I was in third grade and it was devastating.  He was my buddy.  Michelle and I slept over my grandparents house just about every Friday night so we spent alot of time with them.  He taught me letters and how to read.  I can still remember spelling C-A-T on his lap and having him smile and clap for me.  He was a farmer and he taught me to love to grow things in dirt I dug with my own two hands.  He took me crabbing and generally made me feel safe and very special.

Even when he was older, I remember how strong his shoulders and arms were.  He was fit and gardened all the time without a shirt on (typical New Jersey!) and I remember being fascinated by a big scar he had on his back from a liquid burn he got as a child.   Typically, this gave him an opportunity to remind me 100 times to stay away from the stove.

These poems were in the envelope and that's my grandmother's writing on the bottom.  Jennie is my cousin.  You can't see it in this image, but she's also written just my name next to the "Look, Grandma" poem.   I particularly love the Grandpa poem because we did spend so much time at the beach.

Here's a picture of them....with me peeking out from behind the chair.  I remember my mom didn't want me in the picture and I kept jumping out--that's why my grandmother is laughing.

And here's one with my Nana when I was just a little baby.That's my cousin Roy on the left, me, and my cousin Jennifer.  Look at me....wow.....that looks JUST LIKE my Palmer.  Tate genes might be strong but I'm seeing what I'm seeing here.

My Grandmother was very firm but nurturing.  She didn't put up with misbehavior and she was kind of serious.  She was an absolute master at finding things to keep us busy and she let us sit and go through her jewelry boxes and scarves for hours, trying all of it on and making a total mess.  I remember making those octagonal loom yarn trivets over and over with her.  She was a good, solid, plain cook who always let me help her bake.  Her spaghetti and meatballs in the big yellow Correlle bowl was the best to come out of a non-Italian kitchen in South Jersey.  Every summer I try to make time to cook her boiled peach dumplings.  They taste like love and summer in a bowl.

Grandparents are awesome.  Mine certainly were!

Hurricane Lenny

Great opener for a post about the most devastated vacation of our lives, huh?    I've told this story aloud so many times I guess its time to get it down here for posterity.

We hadn't been on a real vacation in several years.  We'd been saving money for our first house which we purchased in 1996 and then, of course, we'd been spending money on the house to fill it up.  Three years later, it was time to get out of town.

I had always wanted to go to this particular hotel.  I was originally a Hyatt when I first saw pictures of it in high-school but somewhere along the way it had become a Westin.  We began planning the trip in the spring and decided to wait until mid-November so that we could avoid the risk of a hurricane.  Its largely unchanged and you can see photos of the resort here.   Here's a great one looking down onto the property. 

We arrived on Saturday, November 13 to blue skies but it was late in the day so we got settled and went out to dinner.  On Sunday, we did an island tour with a group of people.   We'll never forget our tour guide, Jimmy, who was the former Chief of Police in Cruz Bay, the main town on the island.  He knew everyone and even took us to his cousin's still (as in "moonshine") where he cooked up some hideous alcohol that they like to call "Liquid Viagra".  With random local stops like that, the tour was fun and so were the people on it, but it drizzled most of the day.

On Monday the weather was spectacular.  Bob and I spent the day on Hawksnest Beach totally alone.  Never another soul to be seen.  It was fantastic.  We should have known it couldn't last.

That night we went into town for dinner.  During our meal, the server casually mentioned/questioned if we were hearing about "the hurricane".   Of course we hadn't.  We'd been on a deserted beach all day.  I remember they turned on the TV on in the bar and we watched with horror as the fact slowly sunk in that we were about to have our trip ruined by Hurricane Lenny.

Lenny was historical and unique.  You can read about the storm in depth, here, but these are the short facts:

1.  Lenny was the strongest Category 4 hurricane EVER in the month of November.
2.  Lenny was one of the latest ever hurricanes to threaten the Virgin Islands, and most remarkably,
3.  Lenny was bizzrre.  It formed in the Carribbean Sea, not in the Atlantic Ocean, and moved on almost an flat, true WEST to EAST track.   This meant that it threatened the generally less storm ready leeward sides of the islands.

We assessed our options, but there really was no escape.  Flights out were already limited unless you were a millionaire and we were assured by many people that our hotel was very safe.   It had been devastated by Hurricane Gloria and totally rebuilt using cinder block and re-bar AND it had its own power plant.   We also came to find out that the hotel was moving all guests from the lower beachfront buildings to the buildings that were higher up on the hill (where our room was) and that they had opened all available space to the families of their employees knowing that their buildings were likely much more safe than the homes of their workers.   This all made us feel confident.  


By the next day the island was in full on storm preparation mode.  The letter above is only one of many.  The most alarming one was the first which basically said...go get supplies today (Tuesday) because we don't know what's going to happen.  We heeded this advice and went to the small grocers in Cruz Bay and stocked up on....well....not the right stuff.   Basically, snacks and alcohol.  If we'd be thinking, we might have purchased more useful things such as toilet paper, which we eventually ran out of.

By late Tuesday night the island was on total curfew.  This means that legally, no one is to be outside unless they are emergency personnel, etc.  Wednesday the storm hit and we watched our little bay rise up and over take the beach and the lower buildings of the hotel.   The boats that were moored in the bay washed onto the beach and the sky was black.  Of course, being idiots, we did wander out in the courtyard area once or twice, but certainly not at the height of the storm.

Trapped in the room for two days we were left to our own devices.  Luckily, we never lost power, so there was plenty of TV and movies to watch...and we watched them all.  I also read the entire first Harry Potter novel.  One funny thing was that the hotel sent someone to deliver sandwiches at the top of the storm and he was wearing a yellow slicker and pants (a la the Gorton's fisherman) with a motorcycle helmet to protect him from flying debris.  It was surreal.   This is the only good picture I have of the skies as the storm approached.

By Thursday at noon, it was over.   That's when things got crazy.   You take a resort island and trap people inside for two days and ruin their vacations, you should expect the pendulum to swing the other way.   Of course, anxious to get out just like everyone else, we headed into town but as the evening wore on and people got drunker it became obvious that it wasn't safe.  The main street in Cruz Bay was packed with tourists and locals and I distinctly remember seeing a few guys wearing brass knuckles and thought we'd better get the hell out of there.

Friday was still overcast and drizzly.  The beaches were destroyed.  The cleanup was massive.  We spent the day roaming around and checking out the damage.

On Saturday, we left for St. Thomas on our ferry headed to the airport to go home.   As you'd expect, the weather was beautiful, the water calm and blue, and we waved goodbye having had quite an adventure but feeling cheated.

We've been back to St. John twice since this ill-fated trip.  It is one of my absolute favorite places on the earth.  If I had my way, I'd go there every year.  But alas, there is no golf course so its a marital compromise I have to make.  I highly recommend it.  Two thirds of the island are a US National Park and all of the beaches, if you can get to them, are open to the public.  The British Virgin Islands are a short boat ride away and the whole place is just a playground.  Just don't go during hurricane season.

Her Nemesis

Stumbled across this one and it made me laugh out loud. This is my maternal grandmother, Anna Josephine Engle, photographed with her absolute NEMESIS...the modern automobile seat belt. The woman literally was confounded by them. Every journey in a car began with a scuffle between her and the personal restraint system. It reminds me of this scene from Downton Abbey where Lady Grantham struggles (or, more likely, bitches about) a modern device. Modernity can be a struggle. :)

Morgan-Our First Baby

Bob's sister Sue had a beautiful baby girl in 1993 and she became our first baby. Okay, not really. But kinda. Morgan spent alot of time with us before her parents carted her off to Florida and broke our hearts. These are just a few of the tons of silly pictures I have of her. She loved her Uncle Bobby an awful lot and had him totally wrapped around her little finger. She loved to do that "piggy nose" thing but couldn't figure out how to do it herself so she'd drag me to the mirror and make me do it to her and she'd giggle and giggle. And that shark nose got mangled from her running around with it. Morgan is a grown woman now. We miss her. Both the little girl and the big one.

Dancing Queens

This is another one that comes in and out of frames and in and out of drawers over and over again. Me in first grade, Michelle about age 3 or 4. I liked her outfit better than mine. I did love the damn tap shoes...anything that makes my entrance into a room more interesting works for me---even today!

Play-A

Bob saw this picture in the office in the pile of stuff I'm digging through and said.."Now, that's what a football player looks like!".   I'm guessing age 10 or 11.

Holiday Party Before We Were Married

I think this is somewhere around Christmas, 1990.  A corporate holiday party, back when companies used to have those.  I am mighty blonde!  I still have that dress.  I would be great to fit into it!

The Original Tater Tots

This photo has been floating around our various homes for 20 years.  It goes into frames and out of them.  Up on walls and down off them.  It's a great one. 

That's Bob in the middle there of a sister sandwich.  Debbie on the left, Cindy on the right.  Look at those cute faces!  Suzanne, of course, came along later. 

The Bloodsucker and the Elf

Not really a "couple's" Halloween costume set, is it?  I have no idea what we were thinking.  What I do know is that this was our first Halloween together (1990)  and I was so delighted that Bob was "into" it.  He spent at least an hour chasing delighted kids around the neighborhood.

The photos are taken in front of a townhouse that I lived in for less than a year in Reston with a girl named Lynn.  She owned the house...I rented the basement from her.  She was nice enough, but weird.  But no weirder than a six-foot tall female elf.  :)

Et Moi Aussi!

I have no idea where this came from or exactly how old I was.  But i do look here somewhat like my baby boys looked when they were infants.  Its not all Tate-a-liscious.  Some of my DNA has made it into them!

Blizzard of 1996

In my life, I had never seen so much snow.  Never.  We were living at Bob's parents house in Sterling Park and only a week into the new year we got hit with two feet of snow.  These photos are in the middle of the storm.  It lasted from January 6-8th and my office was closed for an entire week.  Pretty much everything was.  And as you can see in the middle shot, it was COLD.  So there was not alot of meltage for quite some time.  You can read about the storm here.

Since then, I think I've seen this much snow here at least two other times.  Something about where we live between the mountains and the ocean makes it more likely to pile up on us than it did growing up in coastal New Jersey.   I have to say, I like it.  Its an excuse to do nothing, which the older I get and the busier I get, the more I cherish. 

These six photos are on two pages in a photo album. There are two things written in my handwriting near them:

1. Xmas 1995
2. Dr. Strangelove

The second annotation is next to the picture of my father with those wacky magnifying glasses. I have no idea what they were for, but he was obviously enjoying them.

The third picture down is of my Aunt Marilyn and her husband, my Uncle Al.   I can't quite make out what she's doing in that grocery bag there but I'm sure its something festive.  :)    Also, can you totally dig that basket weave paneling?  Wow.  I'd forgotten about that.  Also, what the hell were we thinking with that Christmas tree placement.  It must have taken up half the room.

The center pic above is of the nicest Buche de Noel I've every made.  Sorry its not digital so I can't zoom and crop it.  It tasted great, too, as I recall.

And finally, somewhere I hope my grandmother is forgiving me for posting photos of her hair looking like Albert Einsteins.  I hope.

New Year's Eve-1995

Seventeen years ago?  How is that possible?  I just have to move on...

On New Year's Eve, 1995 we rented a limo with my dear friend Lee and her then paramour, Bill.   We had no specific destination, our intention was to drive around to various locales and celebrate.  There are two fabulous stories that arose from this fantastic evening.  In order..

Crystal Storage

Our first stop was to Clyde's in Tysons Corner for a drink.   At some point we realized, either before arriving or shortly thereafter, that although we had champagne in the car, we had no glasses.  It was reasonable to assume that the car would come with glasses, but it did not, so we were stuck.  A few drinks into the evening and about to head out to the next spot, I decided I would handle the problem and grabbed two champagne flutes from the bar and tucked them down into my sides via my blouse. I was wearing something conducive to this--don't try to work our the physics of it in your mind.

A few days later Bob tells the end of the story like this...."Imagine my utter delight when we were settled in the limo to see my wife reach into her cleavage and produce not one, but TWO champagne glasses!"   It must be an image that is seared onto the brain.  I'm pretty magical like that.


Walk With Confidence

Lee's lovely ensemble for this celebratory evening involved the velvety dress you see here.  It was short and she looked great. 

Many hours and many cocktails into the evening, we stop at the Washington Hilton to run in and tinkle.  They guys are in the limo outside and we are staggering through the lobby to the ladies room trying to not look totally idiotic.   Once in the ladies room and in our respective stalls, this is what happens:

Lee:   Oh my God, my dress is ripped.
Di:  Where?
Lee:  Up the back.  The middle seam.
Di:  How'd you do that?
Lee:  I have no idea.
Di:  How bad is it?
Lee:  I can't tell.
Di:  I'll check it in a sec.
Lee:  OK

We finish up our business.  We exit our stalls an she turns around backside to me and tries to look over her shoulder down at her own ass which every sober person knows is a physical IMPOSSIBILITY.  So, its left to me and I assess (pun intended) the extent of the damage.  Now, in my defense, I am drunk.  Pretty blindingly drunk.  I honestly don't think I even really looked.  I just took a glance and it looked fine to me so I then uttered the words that have haunted me for years "Its fine.  Just walk with confidence."

We then saunter through the packed hotel lobby and back to the car and continue our evening.  I don't remember where we went after this or what the extent of the subsequent exposure was.   The full horror of what I'd done was not yet revealed.

The next day, I awoke at approximately 3pm.  Hung over.  Not remembering much after midnight.  A short while later the phone rang.  I answered a croaking "hello" to which I received the response, a lighthearted "YOU BITCH!"   What had I done to deserve this from my dear friend?  After she'd awoken, and being much more able to handle her booze than I, she had a clear recollection of the dress tearing.  And of our discussion in the bathroom at the Hilton.  And of my assertion that it was FINE.

Turns out, the dress was ripped from the hem, clear on up to the waist where the base of the zipper began.  All the way.  Wide open.  And what's worse?  Well, let's just say that her undergarments were sparse.  Very sparse.

We've laughed about this for years.  And what's prompted me to find those photos and jot this down?
This morning, my Facebook Wall was adorned with a Happy New Year greeting from Lee that said...

Happy New Year!  (Walk with confidence!)