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We have Disney World adventures and pics to share later, but a news story today caught my attention. It’s not too disheartening when I read of Warren Buffett working his business acumen. (I thought he could have come in and help save the newspaper world but it seems he never wanted to delve into the news-gathering industry.) Buffett has a financial share in Kraft Foods, which is fine, I’ve got no troubles with Kraft, which includes A1 Steaksauce to Zwieback toasted crackers for our youngest munchers. (A Zwieback with a sprinkling of cinnamon is sounding really good right now, too.) Check out the huge index of foods here.

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But Kraft has turned it’s attention on an English tradition — a chocolate tradition. Cadbury chocolate to be precise, which is to the English what Hershey’s is to Americans. (Though Cadbury chocolate is WAY better!) I don’t believe that nonsense about British and there bland food. I had pure liquid chocolate gold when I visited Cadbury World in Birmingham, England, in 2003. (We were there on our 5th anniversary and had a day not unlike young Charlie in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. Check out their Cadbury World Experience here. There was a small roller-coaster ride for heaven’s sakes! And did I mention the small (too small) plastic cup of warm, liquid chocolate?

I’d learned about the plant from this great book called “Once Upon a Time in Great Britain, A Travel Guide to the Sights and Settings of Your Favorite Children’s Stories” by Melanie Wentz. It also has great ideas for following Harry Potter and Winnie the Pooh sites, too.

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It was a rather fun way to spend a day in merry ol’ England. (We’d driven up — Joe driving on the right side of the road up from Stratford upon Avon in a tiny car we’d rented in Oxford, after getting off the train from Waterloo Station in London and taking a bus to the northern reaches of Oxford where we finally spotted the tiny yellow Hertz sign in a large car dealership.) We bought a bunch of chocolate bars for the rest of our stay in England, naturally.

So I’m always happy to see a regal purple wrapped bar of delicious chocolate with the Cadbury name. But does Kraft’s new association mean plastic chocolate?

Here is what a Reuters story reports: Felicity Loudon, a fourth generation member of Cadbury’s founding family was appalled that the iconic chocolate maker looked destined to fall to Kraft, and believes that jobs will be lost and that Cadbury chocolate will never taste the same.

“I’m horrified, we shouldn’t give up. I just think there’s a cultural imbalance. For a quintessentially, philanthropic iconic brand to sell out to a plastic cheese company - there’s no mix there,” she told Reuters.

And other villagers were weary back in September, according to this Bloomberg.com story. I think Felicity has a point. The news story I read used the word “synergy” which always seems to mean layoffs, right? Plus the Cadbury family always strived to care for their workers, setting up a village for the workers near the factory eons ago. It’s an old red-brick building where the chocolate is crafted, but that seems to be part of the charm. I’d be so upset if they stopped the chocolate tours. I want my daughters to see and experience the chocolate factory. But maybe I need to blame Ronald Dahl for making us want to see chocolate factories in the first place.

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Winter really isn’t my best season. (Though colorwise — remember when knowing your color “season” was good for picking what colors to select for your wardrobe? Okay, guys, this was more a gals interest in the 80s or 90s. (Yes, I’m a winter when choosing COLORS only!) Mentally and physically I’m all about summer and even spring and fall on good days. Winter is tolerable and best when my husband is around.

A halleluia of choruses to hubby for answering my call (more like me ringing the doorbell frantically for a few minutes until he appeared at door) and helping me get out of the driveway. Or, really the snowdrift BESIDE the driveway this morning. It took like 20 minutes of maneuvering with us both taking turns shifting from REVERSE to FIRST GEAR. Joe would push the back of the useless vehicle while I’d bemoan the fact my tires were burning rubber on the d**mned ice. Finally after realizing that Katie would not be making it to her morning gymnastics class, Joe took the wheel and I sat on the hood in front on the driver’s side where the wheel was spinning like we were watching Rumpelstiltskin weave snow into silk.

Perhaps the ice gave away finally or maybe it was my added weight to the front, but Joe was able to back out through a snowdrift higher than our four-year-old. (Guessing only.) He drove the minivan around the block and right back into the garage, where I want it to stay til spring.

I hacked at some ice a few hours later near the driveway and street, watching a red truck with a snowplow go by at least four times (without stopping to volunteer to clear our driveway, alas). That job lasted all of 15 minutes before I realized the heavy-duty green snow shovel had a split right down the middle. We were using it to pry under my van’s wheel earlier, so that might be part of the problem.

For my next snow feat I think I’ll knock down some icicles (while wearing a football helmet and googles, naturally.)

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Gotta love Mother Nature and her gift for bringing us a sort of peace. And some beautiful etched frost work that I couldn’t capture correctly. Right now snowflakes are dancing outside, my head is spinning and the girls are arguing. It’s a typical fourth straight SNOW DAY! I’m realizing that SNOW DAYS are only fun if you have friends and food. We’ve running out of friends to ask over (the roads are a bit slick too to ask over too many friends more than a few blocks away) and I’m having to get creative with food. Last night was a fairly tasty rice and noodle casserole but it featured both staple ingredients in steel canisters that were placed there at least a year ago — or longer. (I should be able to see the bottom of my garage freezer soon, which is a pretty good way to start the year.)

It’s time for a nap (for all of us!) and then maybe a few math flash cards and I’ll start over with chapter one of “Little Women.” Both girls crashed before I got too far in the novel last night. Happy Birthday to dear hubby! (Everyone send birthday wishes to Joe!)

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We’ve come up with our own entertainment, including a play with Barbie dolls and four scenes. My former maroon velvet curtains in our “Hollywood” room of our old house worked well for a backdrop and stage. (Though the chair for half of the front stage fell when Katie leaned forward but I caught her before she hit the ground.) I am lucky my daughters have a sense of imagination but I know why I’m not cut out for homeschooling.  I don’t have the patience. The experts and professionals need to inspire my daughters. I can keep them warm and fed and at peace for a few days, but we’re hitting our limit. Katie is sad and Elizabeth is ready to watch some TV and all I want to do is sleep. (Bears might have this hibernation biz right!)

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Anyone know of any good plays written especially for Barbie dolls out there?

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I’m been thinking a lot about how JOY is supposed to be upon us this merry holiday season. It’s as if JOY can be bottled and marketed and sold on the street corners. But why is JOY this great commodity? Isn’t JOY a natural, unplanned feeling. Spontaneous excitement and sheer instantaneous love of the moment? But when are our holidays measured in small stolen moments?

We’ve got hours of commercials telling us we are NOT good shoppers until we find the perfect gift. There is no JOY in shopping with crowds of people. Don’t tell Grandma, but there is NO sheer JOY in DRIVING to her house — unless it really is an open sleigh and a fleet of clopping Clydesdales hauling an Anheuser-Busch beer truck behind! Ho! Ho! All the way! Truly, the trip is too long, takes too much TIME and planning to orchestrate (thus ruling out that elusive, spontaneous JOY factor from the get-go.)

But everywhere I go and even when I don’t leave home (notice the onslaught of holiday cards and catalogs or am I in the minority still getting printed catalogs?? I must work on my carbon footprint some more!) I see JOY as this objective, this Jeopardy password, this mantra on the lips of all holiday shoppers as the KEY to the holidays. But there are other pitfalls to the SEMANTICS of the seasons. For this I give you just a few reasons. (Stay tuned for more!!)

My Cincy Favorites catalog (ships overnight the best ribs in the entire world – Montgomery Inn — as well as deLISH Graters Ice Cream (raspberry and (Joe’s favorite!) Skyline Chili provides a wealth of tempting food treats. The catalog also started selling United Dairy Farmers ice cream, which boasts they were awarded the “most exotic Ice Cream by People Magazine in 1984! The winning flavor — in case you weren’t an adventurous ice cream eater more than 25 YEARS AGO — was Homemade Brand Cookies ‘N Cream.

I find two things strange about this; First what do the readers of PEOPLE magazine KNOW about ice cream? It’s not like it was Bon Appetit magazine or anything. Secondly, can you STILL boast about winning an exotic ice cream flavor in the middle of the ’80s? I’ve gained enough distance and perspective to know the ’80s were not necessarily a decade of taste. (I could give you LOTS of examples, but Cool Ranch Doritos, PacMan and legwarmers should give you enough of a sampling of our synthesized music generation). We really thought cookies in ice cream was exotic? (Was this also the era where we enjoyed watching people on TV commercials squish rolls of toilet paper?!? And yes, there is no joy in toilet paper, even when throwing it on other people’s trees.)

But the biggest false joy inspiring factor is the flier that comes with holiday symbols, bubbling and glitzy and a coupon that has some absurd restriction. The beauty supply store’s coupon that works on only one day - a Saturday where I won’t be caught dead out shopping. The ubiquitous and unimaginative “$5 off a $20 purchase.” How is this a gift really? How am I getting a jolt of JooYYYY from a scheme to buy more and save a little. Is SPENDING really the way we are supposed to view JOY? Joy to me is finding money still left in my wallet at the end of this pushy time of year……

I see photos as the real source of true knowledge (and books, too.) Yeah, I know how every photo ever seen has been manipulated in some way or another, according to my Introduction to Digital Photography instructor. (My neighbors and I are taking a community ed class on Wednesday mornings.) I believe Photoshop is the greatest software ever developed. It’s pretty easy to doctor with pics. But what should hold true, if the photographer is also a historian, is the sense that a photo captures a moment in time.

Much more true and candid than that horid, smarmy “One Moment in Time” video they (being CBS) has to play EVERY TIME after the NCAA Final Four Championship Game. I like college basketball, but that song and all it’s nauseating “moments” is revolting even. Just give me a good AP or Sports Illustrated cover shot. That’s what preserves the moment best.

So now I’ve built up these photos and they’re not all that exciting really. Joe looks like a Druid or something at his book reading. (No disrespect meant to any religion, BTW.) Yes, that’s the lovely blue (non designer, but looks like Royals Blue) Snuggie that Minda’s parents sent to Joe. This is likely the first and last time he’ll be wearing this in public. Taken from at least 10 rows back with my iPhone, so it’s grainy and please don’t use as a screensaver.

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Rainy Day Book Event at Unity Temple in Kanas City, Mo., Sept. 29, 2009

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Bumblebee on Butterfly Bush, photo for my Introduction to Digital Photography class assignment. I was just shooting away and rather liked this photo even if I had my point-and-shoot on AUTO because I didn’t remember any of the shutter and lighting settings. I couldn’t think about remembering what aperture was when bumblebees (nature’s endangered species) were buzzing around.

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The bat from Duane Kuiper! Joe wouldn’t pose with his new prized possession, so I found some bat girls. When Joe was opening his surprise package, Liz was pretty astonished that her father’s boyhood hero was sending a gift. “Your FAVORITE player just sent you a bat?” Time will tell, which hero she’ll write about some day.

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Here is an endearing story from today’s Kansas City Star. It was the A1 centerpiece and while it might not have reached a much larger population base, the power of youtube and video access has helped.

You can see the video HERE! Matt Ziesel has Downs Syndrome, but his coach at St. Joseph Benton talked with the Marysville (Kan) defense who allowed the freshman squad to run “Matt’s Play” for a touchdown.

And this, naturally with the milder weather, is a good time to bring up high school football and how it transcends the sidelines, encompassing entire communities and beyond. For years THE account of competitive high school football was H.G. Bissinger’s “Friday Night Lights,” written in 1988 when the author spent a year with the championship Odessa, Texas, team. (I’ve not seen the TV show of the same name, but I hear it’s great.)

Now there’s a new must-read called: “Our Boys: A Perfect Season on the Plains with the Smith Center Redmen” by Joe Drape. Check out his cool web site HERE!

In full disclosure, I’ve known Joe for many years and I’m good friends with his sister-in-law, Trisha. Joe (a native of Kansas City) moved his family for a year from New York City to a small agricultural-based city in north central Kansas where the tallest structure was the grain eleveator. The story follows the team (and their ever-supportive community) trying to reach the longest winning streak in the country.

Smith Center’s Redmen are not coached by Texas-sized insane football fanatics, just genuine candid, motivational coaches who strive to turn out better men. The better football player they develop second.

Head coach Roger Barta (who’s son, Brooks, I remember playing football when I was at K-State) was good at keeping his players focused through all distractions. One scene in the book describes the team getting ready for an away game while the other town’s girls’ volleyball team was practicing in the gym.

Barta’s advice to his team: “We don’t want blood flowing where we don’t want it to go. Let’s stay focused, and keep your mind on the game.” Classic!

Plus, Smith Center is only an hour from where I grew up — though my school was so tiny, we only played eight-man football! I can totally relate to the support and attitudes of the entire community rooting for their team whether they won or lost. (I played on a high school girls basketball team that nearly LOST every single game. Let me tell you, that builds plenty of character, too!)

I’m thrilled that a small community in Kansas is getting attention — enough with those Texas schools already! If you’ve not already sought out “Our Boys,” I hope you do. It’s a perfect, feel-good read for the crisp fall days ahead!

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile you might recall I’m a bit perplexed by neighbors who use a snow blower. I’m old-fashioned. I like to shovel, sort of. I guess I really just like being outside and fighting cabin fever. But if I’m really busy or sick or Joe’s traveling and the girls are not wanting to get out of the house to even sled — that notion of not wanting to sled should be unacceptable at all times — I’ll just let the silly snow melt. It usually always goes away.

But I’m giving my snowblowing neighbors a free pass, ’cause I’ve got bigger concerns. Smellier concerns.

Exhibit A:

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Oh, yes. That’s dog poop circled in red. It’s not that I don’t really mind dogs relieving themselves in our lawn. (I mean, it is a lush lawn.) But, It’s right by the mailbox, see that post in the top center of the photo, that’s holding the mailbox up! I step this way DAILY. I have the girls run out to the mailbox with me. And we are USUALLY barefoot! I want correspondence  – not somebody’s dog’s remainders underfoot.

It’s not day care, I shouldn’t have to pick up after everyone AND THEIR DOG! So, since this isn’t the FIRST time this has happened, I found everything I need for my educational campaign in the garage. The girls will love that I decorated the sidewalk with their chalk. They may even help me illustrate these signs after school tonight. Here’s point one in ‘hood education:

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And just in case that’s confusing or doesn’t get right to the point, then this should be helpful:

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And I’ve even attached a few newspaper delivery bags to the top of the mailbox to assist with the removal process. (I may be stereotyping, but I’m gathering the folks who aren’t picking up after their dog are probably not daily newspaper readers. I’m happy to donate a few bags, but 1. pick up the dog poop & 2. subscribe to the local paper!

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I’m just hoping they take the bags with them and don’t leave them FILLED by the mailbox. But I’m not sure I have much faith in these dog walkers right now. I’m already plotting Phase Two of my little turf war. I’ve nixed the idea of mentioning in chalk that my father is an NRA member. (I’m really not ready to go too public with that statement yet.) I may start leaving tacks or sharp objects on the sidewalk or heck, just sweeping the poop on the sidewalk! After all, I shouldn’t be the one stepping in it!

I usually don’t get too excited when Joe is interviewed on radio or television. It’s fun, he’s a natural, even though he HATES radio. (Feel free to find and submit the link to his treaty on his dislike of having his own SHORT-LIVED talk radio show.) All I know is I liked the money from that gig, but I can forgo the nice furniture for him spending more time at home.

But a few weeks ago, Frank Deford (who’s as nice, gracious and intelligent as you’d expect him to be) and producer Chapman Downes and a film and sound crew of three came to our house and rearranged our living room to have Frank and Joe sit down for an interview. I even had Elizabeth stay home from school, which everyone at school understood, but I knew Joe thought that idea was bonkers, as well as Frank and Chapman being a bit surprised I’d compromise by daughter’s education to have her watch the filming of a small segment on a sports magazine. But it’s not everyday we have film cameras in the house.

(The girls and I frosted mini coconut cupcakes with lime frosting and made banana bread that morning. I’d spent the prior weekend doing touch-up painting around the house, even. So if our walls look dingy, I’m just gonna die.)

But, let’s face it, it wasn’t TV, it was HBO! So here’s the link for the Emmy-winning monthly sports magazine “Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel” that will be shown at 10 p.m. Eastern/ 9 p.m. Central this evening. Did you catch that it will be on HBO?

And you might have heard, but Joe’s second book (this one dedicated to his daughters who as of yet have little interest in baseball. ha!) called “The Machine” is in bookstores. While looking for Dan Brown’s latest, you might want to wander over to the sports section to try to see if Joe’s book is there. And if you are in the Kansas City area or (even if you aren’t and want to order online) let Rainy Day Books know you have a Twitter account and they will send your name to Joe for him to send you a special thank you tweet on Twitter!

Thanks for all the props on the site. It makes me feel good that you are noticing. I didn’t think guys really noticed that stuff. It’s not like I really needed any acknowledgement, but I like it. Maybe it’s like when Joe mows the lawn and he’ll ask me when he comes back into the house, “How does it look?”

I always answer, “It looks great, dear,” but all the while I’m thinking, “It looks like cut grass and not quite as nice as Scott’s lawn because he ALWAYS edges, and I’m sure it’s time to replace the mower blade.” Though I do usually remind him BEFORE he mows about the second SHARPER mower blade lying somewhere in the garage. I’m sure he thinks I’m a reincarnation of Billy Bob Thorton’s character in “Sling Blade.”

The web designing is a fun outlet, WHEN I can actually attempt what I’m visualizing. There’s been a big learning curve. To Mateo, I feel your pain. I highly recommend picking up “The Missing Manual” series for the Dreamweaver version you have. David Sawyer McFarland is the author. (The series has a bunch of books for other software too.) I’d gone online for help and had another Dreamweaver book, but McFarland’s “Missing Manual” has tutorials that are great and the book does a great job of explaining how the program works. Don’t let the textbook size scare you, it’s worth it’s weight in inspiring confidence.

Dreamweaver is a tricky little program (I was encouraged when a friend who’s a former high school technology teacher admitted that learning the program could be daunting), but it’s getting easier. I see a light at the end of this tunnel.

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Speaking of light and bright, you should see my carpets! I told Joe he could buy me a new vacuum for payment for the web site work. (I’d quizzed my friends at Mom2MomKC and most raved about their Dyson brand vacuums.) Plus at the store (the big box store that shall not be named), this big, black-boxed sweeper was all tangled up in this electronic cording. I wanted to, no I NEEDED to free it from it’s confinement. Why the tight security on Dysons? It’s not like people are using them as their portable Meth labs, are they? Plus, heaven help us, if someone WANTS to shoplift a vacuum, aren’t they doing it to beautify this world just a bit more? They’re not stealing spray paint cans and they’re probably not a Harvey Keitel type ‘Cleaner’ needing the vacuum for some blotched operation. Oh, yeah, how do you just walk out of the store with that huge box without the greeters noticing?

This is what we found, and now my poor husband has had to watch me bring in the see-through plastic canister after every room I’ve cleaned. I had to show him how much filth was in our carpets, getting released into our precious indoor air with every step we took. It’s like I’ve got the riding lawn mower of vacuums, a Cadillac of carpet cleaning! (Good grief, I’m now channeling Laura Linney’s character in “The Truman Show.”) And now I really want to watch that classic again, AFTER I’ve finished vacuuming the house, again.

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When we were checking out books from the library on New York City a few months ago and we came across this beautiful little book that describes how visitors stranded in the great city came to provide a touching tribute in the aftermath of terrorism acts on Sept. 11, 2001. You can read more about the book here.

I think it’s a good way to introduce the subject to younger children without scaring them to death. Though as my friend, Trisha says, her children — as they got older — became fascinated with reading about history’s tragic events like the Titantic and the Holocaust. She used books the family all read as a springboard for history lessons.

Here is a link for a SesameWorkshop initiative that helps children cope in stressful situations called “You Can Ask!.”

Another great tribute to the Twin Towers is (surprisingly a great film!) the documentary “Man on Wire.” It would be suitable for older children, since all I need is to plant the seed of wire-walking to my young girls. (When we were at Niagara Falls this summer, watching a film on the history of that great landmark while a thunderstorm hung over the area, we noticed the man acting out the part of “The Great Blondin” walking across the falls in 1859 was none other than the main character of the film, French daredevil Philippe Petit.)

I don’t think we can ever read enough about history. And I like that Elizabeth is taking an interest in history. (Thank you, Magic Tree House!) Today’s newspaper had this great quote from Winston Churchill:

“Study history, study history. In history lies all the secrets of statecraft.”

I could try to comment on the above quote and events that unfolded eight years ago today, but I won’t. I don’t want to get into politics, just history. I recommend both “September Roses” for younger children and “Man on Wire” for older children for your family history discussions.