Today the cutest and most precious little guy IN THE WHOLE WORLD — our 2-and-1/2-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable — came to our house. Usually I travel his way for a visit but this time he got to come to Kacky’s house. I was thrilled. We had a blast! Our cats … not so much. I mean, all he wants to do is hug them. That’s not so bad, right?
Tomorrow, this mess is going to be all organized into the Best Yard Sale Ever. Or, if it rains — a garage sale. We’re flexible that way. I’ve called in all the troops: Husband, Younger Daughter, Older Daughter and 2-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable to provide plenty of abundant adorableness. In addition, we’re having Bargains Galore. I promise — things you will not be able to resist. Also: I am not hauling this stuff back into the house. You have been warned. If you’re anywhere near northwest Alabama Friday afternoon and Saturday morning, c’mon over. We’ve got clothes, books, jewelry, home decor — tons of things that would look wonderful in your house!!!
This is your lucky morning, because I meandered around cyberspace picking up all sorts of bits and pieces so you don’t have to. Just make another espresso, sit back and enjoy.
First of all, do we really think that Michelle Obama is a 21st-century Marie Antoinette? Uh, no. It’s true that she loves fashion and spends money on clothes. It’s true she likes growing things and puttering around in gardens. It’s true that she’s a victim of gossip and bad press. (Can you tell that I just finished watching Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette?) But that’s where comparisons should end. Mrs. Obama is a smart, educated and sophisticated woman who’s used to a well-off lifestyle, and if she wants to vacation in Spain with her daughter and with a few friends, she shouldn’t have to give that up just because the Secret Service has to tag along, too. And, for the record, I never begrudged the Bush First Family their time off, either. Also, for the record, after I watched Marie Antoinette, I read more about her on the Interwebs and was amazed to find that folks are STILL arguing about whether she was an evil harlot, a misunderstood saint or simply a young girl who made some tragic mistakes. I vote for the latter.
Secondly, in fashion news, have you seen these foldable black flats from Dr Scholl’s? I’ve found them in Walgreens and 
online but not at the Dr Scholl’s Web site. Initially they seem like a good idea: A pair of soft and packable black ballet flats you can carry in a little pouch on your wrist and slip into when it’s 11:30 p.m. and the wedding reception is in full swing and you’ve worn your pointy black pumps (which are coming back for fall, by the way, so retrieve all those pairs you relegated to the back of your closet in favor of round-toe platforms) since 2 p.m. Ah, sweet relief! But, as several folks have pointed out in the blogosphere, what are you supposed to do with your pumps once you take them off and put the flats on? You can’t put the pumps in the little pouch the flats come in. Chances are they’re not going to fit in your evening bag. You can’t ask your husband/boyfriend/date to hold them. Maybe you’ve got a car handy so you can stash them there, but maybe not. Okay, Dr Scholl’s — what’s your solution for this problem??? I predict special “pump-carrying mini backpacks” to be the next big thing.
Third, I love the way Anthropologie has layering suggestions on its Web site for extending the life of summer dresses into fall and beyond. There are some lovely and creative ideas that make me want to forget about the 101-degree temps today here in northwest Alabama and dream about crisp fall afternoons. And speaking of fall, it is back-to-school time here in the South, where students typically head back to class the first of August. Why this is, I have no idea. But it is sort of annoying when the national press says things such as “For many families, the main focus of August is getting out of town on vacation,” as the Washington Post did this week, when most Southern families have already picked through the notebook selection at Wal-Mart and are well on the way to the school-year routine. Hey, people, we’re here, too, you know!!! It’s as if one whole section of the country is being ignored. Okay, ranting over. Thanks for listening!
In my town of Florence, Alabama, the newest place to eat
and greet is Frostbite, a make-your-own-yogurt-extravaganza spot. I know that folks in Other Places That Aren’t Here have been enjoying yogurt like this for a couple of years and may be all blase and nonchalant about it, but even after several months of pumping yogurt and trying to decide between Butterfinger or Snicker sprinkles and can you mix hot fudge and caramel sauce, it’s still a thrill that’s not getting old. Here’s how it works: There are three machines with two flavors of soft-serve yogurt each that change daily. You can sample each flavor and then grab a cup and pump away. Then you add your own toppings, ranging from cereal to candy to fresh fruit as well as a couple of flavors of ice-cream sauce. When you’re done, you plop your creation on a scale and pay by the ounce — usually about $4-$6. There are several different approaches to designing your own dessert. Some people head straight for their favorites every time. Some people experiment with different combos every time. Others try to see how much they can cram into one cup — $15 yogurt, anyone? — while others are so frugal that they limit themselves to the toppings that weigh the least (puffed cereal tops that list). So far, my favorite yogurt flavors are Birthday Cake, Vanilla Bean and Espresso. Every time I’ve gone, I’ve tried to take a photo of my own creation but, honestly, I’m sort of embarrassed to let you all see how many crumbled-up Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups I can pile on a scoop of yogurt. Sad, really. I obviously need to go back today and try again. Check out Frostbite, which is locally and independently owned (whatever happened to TCBY, anyway?), on Facebook.
Hoop it up! If you think hula hoops are only cheap plastic toys that kids play with in the backyard for a few minutes before going on to something else, then please think again. Older Daughter, an accomplished belly dancer and teacher, has fallen in love with hooping. It’s the latest fitness craze, plus it’s fun and easy to learn. I mean, who can resist picking one up and swaying those hips? You really get a feeling of accomplishment once you keep one in the air for a few minutes. But it’s more than core work. Older Daughter teaches workshops and classes in hooping, and she choreographs whole routines using your arms and legs for a total-body workout. Plus, she and my son-in-law make and sell hoops. It’s fascinating to watch the process. They make the hoops out of flexible plastic piping and then create the designs with sticky colored tape. Amazing! They do custom hoops as well as children and adult sizes and even portable hoops that fold up for easier transport. In true entrepreurial spirit, they’re planning to take their hooping business to the Web and sell at local festivals and shows — if only they could come up with a name. Every possibility on their list is already taken or one or the other of them doesn’t like it. The top contender of “Hip Happy Hoops” turned out to be close to the name of a Web site touting recreational drug use — not really good for the family-friendly image they’re going for. Husband and I think they should go with “Capt. Adorable’s Hoops.” After all, 2-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable is a great help with the family business — he jumps up and down on the hoops when they’re laid out on the floor and unravels the rolls of tape when he’s not using them as dog toys. Adorable!!!
When it comes to travel, my husband and I are pretty laidback people. It takes a lot to rattle us. And by “us” I actually mean “my husband,” who traveled all over the world in his former job as a sportswriter and handles just about any glitch with style and grace. And even though to me “roughing it” means having to make do with generic brewed coffee at the breakfast buffet and “adventure vacation” means choosing between the pool and the beach (as in “sitting and reading at”), I’m not that demanding. Really, I’m not, despite the evidence of us going through three rooms in one night during a recent trip. But none of them were my fault. The first one had plumbing problems, so before we could even unpack I stayed in the room while he went to the front desk to get another one. It took him several minutes, though — because the second room we were given unaccountably had people already in it. So back he went to the front desk for the third time and we finally got a room with working plumbing and nobody else in it. Except the spider my husband found in the bed while I was brushing my teeth — and didn’t tell me about until the next day when we were back on the road. “It was a little one, though,” he said, “and if I’d found another one we would have gotten another room. I just really hated to go back to the desk a fourth time.” I secretly think even a second spider wouldn’t have done it — a third one, maybe.
For folks in middle Tennessee and north and central Alabama, a summer road trip to Florida means driving south on Interstate 65. And that means a stop at Priester’s Pecans in Fort Deposit, Alabama, at exit No. 142 about 35 miles of Montgomery. A gift shop and rest stop and restaurant, Priester’s is best known for its free-sample bowls of its famous flavored pecans. Now, I never get up in the morning dreaming about pecans — I’m not even a big fan of pecan pie — but if we’re anywhere near Priester’s, I have to stop and nibble on such taste treats as Key Lime, Peach and Honey Glazed pecans. This truly is marketing genius, because you can’t sample without thinking, “You know, the one thing that would make the rest of my vacation complete is a bag of Cinnamon Pecans.” There also are all sorts of Priester’s-made candy and even plain ol’ unflavored pecans there, plus a cooler stocked with homemade frozen casseroles to make the first night at your beach rental much more convenient and plenty of souvenirs and gifts for when you’re headed back home and you’ve forgotten to get something for the grandkids. These Priester’s folks think of everything! Go yourself and you’ll see: http://www.priesters.com/
What is it about hot summer days that make us want to up the ante even more with spicy hot wings? Purely in the pursuit of journalistic investigation, Husband and I researched this question recently at Wing Shack in Florence, Alabama, where there only are three things on the menu: Wings, fries and chicken tenders. You have to respect a place that quite literally puts all its wings … uh … eggs in one basket. The star attractions are substantial and meaty, and you can order them with one of a dozen different sauces or create your own custom blend. (Honey mustard/garlic? Atomic/teriyaki?) Or you can choose from four dry rubs or again mix-and-match. And, listen, even though these fries look like generic crinkle-cut, they’re fried perfectly — light and crispy on the outside and nicely potatoey on the inside. The beer selection is basic at best, but really when you’re eating wings you mainly want something drinkable and fire-quenching, so it’s okay. Every time we have wings, Husband always remembers the evening years ago when we were on a date and he ordered some for both of us and I said, “Oh, you’re going to have to eat them all because I really don’t like wings” and then I proceeded to work my way through most of the plate. In my defense, I really thought I didn’t like wings. Now we each get our own. Check out Wing Shack on Facebook.
It’s Handy Week around here, which means that pretty much everybody’s walking around with “Sax in the City” T-shirts and portable chairs and saying things such as “If we go to the Listening Room in the afternoon and then Wilson Park for the Sundown concert, we can catch Handy Night at On the Rocks afterwards.” The W.C. Handy Music Festival honors Florence, Alabama’s favorite native son. Handy was born near the Tennessee River in 1873 and grew up to the rhythms of riverboats work crews and gospel music. And even though he left town as a young man, Florence was his home and he returned often before his death in 1958. Almost 30 years ago, jazz musician and Yale professor Willie Ruff, another Shoals native, helped form the Music Preservation Society to celebrate Handy’s legacy and worldwide influence and we’ve been partying ever since. The Handy Festival — everybody calls it “Handy Week” — is a 10-day bounty of music for all. While most music festivals are an intense two or three days of performances at a specific venue, Handy Fest is spread over dozens of locations in three counties. You’ll find music at restaurants, parks, churches, stores, libraries, museums, assisted-living and nursing-care facilities, law offices, coffee shops, courthouses, the Alabama Music Hall of Fame, the mall, random street corners and the downtown Florence parking deck. Among other places. And that’s not counting the actual concerts in actual auditoriums. There’s food, too, and dancing and theater productions and races and a car show and all sorts of fun. And the best part? Most of it is free and family-friendly. You don’t need a ticket or a badge or anything for most Handy events — you just show up and enjoy. But the real best part is that Handy Week is a common gathering place for everybody. And I mean everybody. You’ll see all folks of all ages and background and cultures dancing and laughing and having fun, brought together by music. Mr. Handy would be proud. Check out http://www.wchandymusicfestival.org/ and http://www.timesdaily.com/handyfest for details.
Yup, it’s mid-July and supposed to hit 100 degrees today but around here we’re all already thinking fall — and football. Because with SEC coaches taking the podium during media days in Birmingham and doing their best to charm the press, this week marks the unofficial start of football season. It’s that giddy optimistic time when everybody’s smiling and anything can happen and championships are within every team’s grasp. Fans have made their hotel reservations. Brides and hostesses have checked the game schedule and know not to schedule anything on home weekends. Sports journalists — such as my newspaper-sports editor husband — have kissed their spouses “goodbye” and settled in for a good five months of all football all the time. And while I enjoy a good football game as much as anybody, it’s true that I also look forward to the start of the season because 1) It means college basketball is getting closer; 2) I love the game-day menu of chips, dips and anything fried and 3) Who can resist a “Peace, Love and Alabama” shirt? Not me.
Coffee with Cathy 