Reunion!

Tonight was the 50th reunion of the Green Bay Southwest High School Class of 1969 and it was a good time.  About 1/3 of the class members attended and it was fun to see people.  It was pretty easy to pick out who was who, the nametag with senior picture on it really helped.

But first... this morning I whipped up a batch of Zucchini Lemon Muffins from The Pound Dropper's blog.  She posts WW recipes, I've tried a couple and they're pretty good.  These are good.  I used unsweetened applesauce instead of the fake butter that was the other choice and I think that made them a little tough.  The next time I'll use a fat which I think might make it a little fluffier.



This morning I finished the Dress no. 3 to wear to the reunion.  The next time I make this dress (and I have two more cut out) I'll do a couple things differently including make it shorter, not too much or the pockets would hang below it.  Maybe I'll move the pockets up a bit higher too.

In the afternoon I baked a batch of 10-Cup Cookies.  Most of the ingredients are a cup--flour, butter, oats, pecans, creamy peanut butter (I used almond butter because LC doesn't like peanuts and I had it on hand), raisins, chocolate chips, coconut, sugar, and brown sugar--with a couple eggs, baking powder and soda.  I used a slightly larger scoop than called for but the smallest one I have and got 56 instead of the 84 suggested in the recipe.  Oh mercy, are they good.

27 July--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

When I got back to the room Connie had arrived.  She was a short intense woman about my age who gave off an aura of suppressed energy. She was dressed in what I immediately recognized as “city” clothes, a trim black vest over tailored black and white plaid slacks topping the most amazing black and white Doc Marten wingtip shoes.  I knew about Doc’s from my shopping trip with Samara.  I coveted them.

Connie was taking the writing class.  We got acquainted while we unpacked.  It didn't take me long but I swear Connie had brought an outfit for every eventuality.  I wouldn't have been surprised to see a ball gown come out of one of her suitcases.  She had all these dressier casual clothes and the only thing she wore all week were jeans, t-shirts, flannel shirts and sweatshirts just like the rest of us.  But she was ready, just in case.

By the time I hauled my empty suitcase back to the car to store it for the week, the campus was buzzing with students moving in, greeting old friends and making new ones.

According to the schedule we'd gotten when we checked in, dinner was at six so I had an hour to take a walk and see more of the place.  I found a winding path and followed it to the edge of the bluff overlooking the bay.  The sound of the waves lapping on the rock far below was a pleasant change from the noise of tractors, and the sighing of the wind in trees made my muscles relax after the long drive.  Every few steps I took on the path along the bluff brought another vista worthy of painting.  I couldn't imagine having enough time in a week to paint all I was inspired to paint.  Good thing I’d brought a camera with an empty SD card.

Along the path at intervals were rings of stacked limestone, some with fire pits in the center.  They looked like ancient council rings.  Connie was sitting in one of the rings sketching in her journal.  We visited for a few minutes and I walked on.

            By the middle of the week at The Clearing I realized that I wasn't the same person with these strangers as I was at home.  No one here knew me or had any expectations of my behavior so there was no reason to be anyone other than myself.  I discovered that I had a lot to say and didn't hesitate to give my opinion.  I stopped examining what I was going to say before I said it like I tended to do with my sons and Clara.  No one at The Clearing had ever met me before so they had no preconceived ideas.  They never knew me with long hair in a bun, dressed in old lady clothes, more worried about what other people think than what I think.  So I didn't have to be anyone but me, didn't have to worry about who heard me, who I sat next to at meals, or what any of them thought of me or my paintings.  Didn't worry that they'd think I was weird or had changed too fast or gone too far.  It was relaxing to just be Gail, the painter from Kingman who'd picked up a brush less than a year ago.  I was determined to keep that feeling alive when I went home.

Tomorrow we're off to Door County for a couple more days and nights of catching up, eating, and shopping.  I woke up at 5:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep.  I switched to taking my new med in the evening hoping that the sleepiness of the morning and the insomnia at 5 AM will switch places.  In the meantime, I'm outta gas.
--Barbara