Mind Your Manners

You know, I've always thought of myself as a polite person.  I say "please" and "thank you" (and am constantly telling my kids that it isn't "yeah," it's Yes, please; and it isn't "no," it's No, thank you; oh, and the biggie: it is NOT "I want milk!" it's May I have some milk, please?  I swear to you I chant that phrase in my sleep).  I hold the door open for other people in public places (and tried not to snarkily mutter "You're welcome" under my breath when the masses back East couldn't be bothered to say "Thank you"). 

I do my level best not to commit any major social gaffes, and I think that good manners make society as a whole easier to tolerate. 

To reiterate:  I am a polite person.

Or I thought I was. 

Over the weekend, I went to the Brass Armadillo, a local antique mall (which I love and really deserves a post all it's own where I can gush unbecomingly about the maze of awesome stuff that makes up that store), and purchased a book.  It was from a series of books first published in the 1920's called the What Every Child Should Know Library.  This one is a reprint from 1939, entitled Etiquette:  What Every Child Should Know. 

This is the front cover:

This photo is displayed again on one of the first pages of the book, and it's caption reads

Gracious Hospitality Is An Art Youth Should Grow Up With

When Betty brings out mother's best china and invites Bob in for a cup of tea, she is not only setting tea to swing time in the modern American manner, she is also taking the first step towards her future poise and popularity as a hostess.

First of all, what does "swing time" mean?  Is "swing" a verb, as in Betty is swinging time, or is "swing time" an actual time of day, or what? 

The first text of the book, and I'm already out of my depth. 

I was taken by surprise again and again as I opened the book at random to peruse it's contents. 

Never blow on spoonfuls of food. (Apparently you are supposed to test the food or drink ONCE and ONCE ONLY to see if it's too hot- after that you just have to be patient or scald your tongue.)

Cut spaghetti with your fork and eat it as if it were a vegetable.

A boy is taken over to a girl, to be introduced; the girl is never brought to the boy.

Even in very small towns, the "drug store gang" is not in good repute.  (This makes me think of the ladies I worked with at my hometown drug store, and I laugh.  Hard.)

Don't talk "baby-talk," even to babies.  Murder is almost justified in the case of the "baby-talker."  (I did not make that up.  It seriously says that.)

No girl with good manners combs her bobbed hair at table over the plates or arranges her hair in any way.  As hats are always worn by girls at restaurants, one wonders why this statement is made.  Ask the waiter.  He sees strange sights. 

And on and on and on.

Evidently these were things that children were all supposed to be aware of in 1930's America.  I'd like to see most American adults try to follow a quarter of the guidelines proposed in this book. 

I did feel slightly vindicated upon finding, on page 182, the following.passage:

"Please" and "Thank you" are small civilities indeed, but they are the hall mark of the well bred and the naturally courteous.

Ha!  You see, our little family is, um, "well bred" (oh, that one really makes me snigger, picturing certain relatives glimpsed at childhood family reunions whom I swear were more in- than well-bred), and "naturally courteous" (those "pleases" and "thank you's" uttered by my children are genetic manifestations, it's not due to hours and weeks and years of harping by their mother).  I feel better.

I do enjoy reading this book; it gives me fodder for conversations with my children about etiquette and manners.  I don't, however, think I will be instructing them not to use first names in public and on the street, nor will I shriek at Adelaide, "Blots are inexcusable!  This book says so!" when reviewing her work from school. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go ponder the statement, Don't leave rubbers outside the door, a la the Mohammedan, or umbrellas.  What's a Mohammedan, and what precisely do they mean by rubbers...?

Can You Guess?

Guess what this is.

Hint:  It's not a huge wad of bubble gum. 

It's also not a brain, liver, or any other organ.  (Including a Wurlitzer.)

Actually, it's...

...Homemade Play-Dough!


Adelaide came home from school about a week ago with a note- including the recipe- asking each family to whip up a batch for the kids to use throughout the year at school.  I finally made it this evening, and I'm now wondering why anyone spends any money on the stuff at the store.  It took me ten minutes tops to make, the recipe calls for ingredients most people usually keep in their pantry, and one batch made about twice the amount that usually comes in one container of the brand-name product. 

I gotta say, though:  Although Adelaide specifically requested pink play-dough, I think the batch I'm going to make for home use tomorrow will have to be a different color.  Something not quite so... fleshy.

Play-Dough

1 cup flour

1 Tablespoon cooking oil

1 cup water

1/2 cup salt

2 teaspoons cream of tartar

food coloring (optional)

Combine all of the ingredients in a saucepan.  Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture forms a ball.  Knead until smooth.  Let the dough cool completely before placing in a sealed container. 

Sunflowers

Lately, I've been trying to go through the digital mountain of photos I've taken over the summer.  While the vast majority of them feature the kiddos as their subject, there's a noticeable subgenre labeled "Flowers."  (Or would be labelled "Flowers" if I labeled my photos, classified them, or really organized them at all rather than just dumping them onto the laptop and forgetting about them.)  I found so many pictures of flowers, I almost thought I had somehow gotten a folder of my Grandma's pictures.  There were no photographs of cows sprinkled in, however, so I realized they must actually be mine. 

Because they're the most recent, and because I am, after all, from Kansas, today I'll share these with you.

It's the only one of three potted sunflowers that survived the summer and bloomed for me. 

For whatever reason, it was wilting and just generally didn't look so great when I had it on the deck.  I put it on top of the table back there, and it perked right up.  I don't know why. 

That pretty much personifies my gardening style.  Haphazard trial-and-error.  Sometimes lots of error.

That sunflower looks somewhat tall and impressive until you compare it to...

...this guy.

Now that is a sunflower.  Adelaide began growing it in her preschool class last spring, and it has done beautifully since we plunked in a corner of the garden and basically just left it alone.  Now we're just waiting for the head to dry out so that we can harvest the seeds. 

You're probably aware that there are lots of different species of sunflowers.  According to the seed packet, that first potted sunflower is a "Mammoth."  I'm not sure what the second is, but if I had to guess I'd say it's a "Giant." 

Now, riddle me this:  Isn't mammoth bigger than giant?  I guess in my head, I picture the extinct Woolly Mammoth as being bigger than the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.

Those are the images that pop into your head upon hearing the words "mammoth," and "giant," right?  I'm not the only one thinking these things, right?

I'm not big on annuals, but I'll think we'll be planting these again next spring.  They remind me of home, are easy keepers, and might just give us food (well, a snack).  Win-win.

   

Fair Food

When we go to the Iowa State Fair, we go to see the sights:  the enormous hogs, steers, and draft horses, not to mention beasts of butter.  We go to wander the various buildings, collecting free samples of stuff and checking out the the projects made by 4-H'ers and regular folk.  Someday, when our three wee ones are old enough to sit still outside of a stroller for more than two minutes at a time, we'll get to watch the talent shows and performances and exhibitions that go on throughout the fair.

But mostly?  We go to eat. 

This may not be the case for other families.  I, however, married a man who seems to consider it a personal affront to his masculinity not to eat two to three servings at most meals, and who regards The Fair as his own personal smorgasboard. 

So what did we enjoy at The Fair?  (Because I know you're dying to know.)


My favorite, caramel apples.

Adelaide obviously likes them, too, but she'll only eat about half of hers, and since I'm bad about sharing food I love and insist on one of my own, I get her other half, so I get mine plus some of hers.

Again, because I know you care about this kind of stuff.

Here we all are (minus me, the picture-taker) eating cheese curds, which sound disgusting but taste delicious.

Cheese curds are like Sonic's cheddar bites without the breading.  And somehow a bit tastier. 

If you've never had a cheddar bite, then I'm going to assume you don't live within a 100-mile radius of a Sonic Drive-In, in which case I feel deeply and pathetically sorry for you, and will say an extra prayer for you tonight.

Moving on.

We also had Iowa sweet corn...

... porkchops on a stick, pineapple whip, chocolate chip cookies, barbeque ribs, walking tacos, barbeque nachos, pulled pork sandwiches, yogurt, ice cream, cheddarwurst- corn dog, funnel cake, onion strings, french fries, and much, much more.

Please keep in mind that all this food consumption was spread across seven people.  Never mind that two of them were ages five and two and another doesn't have teeth yet.  That still adds up to seven people. 

Anyone else hungry?  

The Fair

Adelaide successfully began Kindergarten last week.  She got off the bus that first day sweaty and tired, but finally perked up enough to tell us about her day and let us know that she had fun and liked her new school.  She quickly learned that Kindergarten is very different from preschool, however. 

Soon after we all got home, Derek asked Adelaide if she had made any new friends at school.  She replied, "Daddy, Kindergarten isn't like preschool.  You work all day long at Kindergarten."  Apparently Adelaide + Work = No Friends.  At least for now. 

After her first two full days of school, we decided to reward her with a trip to...  The Iowa State Fair!

I've made it pretty clear that I am not originally from Iowa.  I grew up almost seven hours south of here, in Kansas.  Where I'm from, the county fairs are terrific.  There's lots of people involved, lots to see and do, and because you're in an area of the country that doesn't see a whole lot of excitement, a county fair is a Big Deal. 

The Kansas State Fair, while also pretty neat, is really just like a Kansas county fair on steroids: bigger, but with a higher voice and an irrational temper.  (I may or may not have just taken the steroid analogy a bit far.  But believe me:  I could have gone farther.)  For the most part, larger amounts of the same stuff that you find on a county level.

Here in Iowa, the county fairs are pretty pathetic.  Not the least bit impressive.

The Iowa State Fair, on the other hand, is pretty dang awesome. 

First of all, it's humongously gigantic.  Or maybe gigantically humongous.  Either way, it's big.

It also has crazy stuff like this:

Behold, the Butter Cow.  That's 600 pounds of pure cream Iowa butter.

Also, the Butter Cow's friend, Butter Farmer, doing something to a Butter Calf and her Butter Mama.

This year marked the 100th anniversary of the Butter Cow at The Fair.  That's 100 Butter Cows.  Moo.


There are fair- and farm- themed ice sculptures:

That's a cow, a pig, a 1st Place ribbon, and... maybe a motorcycle.  Because nothing says fairs and farms like an ice Harley.

There was also a big 4-H building, full of awesome 4-H projects: food, clothing, stitching, wood-working, antique restoration; you name it, it was there.

This was one of my favorites.

Some crafty little 4-Her took one of those toy horses- the kind are attached to a metal frame with four big springs, and kids can sit and bounce around on- detached it from the frame, recovered it with fabric and paint (and probably half a gallon of Mod Podge), attached a pole, and made it into a darling carousel horse.  I love this.

I also lingered for quite a while around the 4-H cakes.  Because, you know, cake.

Those are frosting roses.  It was beautiful and absolutely deserving of that blue ribbon.

And something about this coconut cake just spoke to me.

Maybe it's because Derek doesn't like coconut and so I haven't made anything with it in the last... oh, seven years or so.  I miss coconut.

When we weren't looking at all the cool stuff, we were eating... and eating, and eating. 

We ate so much that I think all that delicious fair food deserves it's own post.

Tomorrow.





You Know You're From Iowa When...

...You suck on sweet corn like it's candy.

I'll share more about our trip to the Iowa State Fair tomorrow.  Brace yourself for animals made out of butter and 4-H projects galore. 

Oh, and food.  Lots and lots of food.

Bear With Me Here

It's been an interesting day.

I woke Adelaide up about half an hour before she usually rises.  She got dressed, I fixed her hair.  She had some breakfast. 

Derek and I woke the boys and got them ready.  Then our little family of five all set out to walk to the bus stop, one block from our house.

We waited with the other kids and parents.  Introduced ourselves.  Shared with Adelaide some words of encouragement. 

Then the bus rounded the corner, came roaring up to where we waited.  Our daughter said her good-byes to Daddy and brothers, I took Adelaide's hand, and we joined the queue of kiddos.  Derek hung back with the boys and shot video.  Adelaide was the last in line, and when it came time to ascend the stairs onto the yellow behemoth, she did everything within her power to remain firmly attached to the back of my shorts, crying and generally freaking out.  When just shoving her on proved fruitless ('cause dang, does that girl have some upper-body strength), I held her hand and walked her up the steps, and we began looking for a spot to sit.

The driver, bless his heart, offered to let me stay on and sit with her for a couple blocks while he made one last stop, then he'd come around and drop me back off.  I may have taken him up on it, but I didn't want to set a bad precedent, and thankfully she had calmed down by this time anyway.  I watched her walk down the aisle to the very back, and as she swung into the last seat, she smiled and waved cheerily at me. 

I got off, rejoined the three Crisler men, and waved at her window as the bus took my daughter away from me to Kindergarten. 


As a result of this momentous morning, I'm feeling a little discombobulated.  So I thought I'd share a random smattering of photos from our trip last week- because I'm sure you weren't sick of these already.

My mom, my sister, and her husband, laughing at the ignorant schmucks who don't know that those are soybeans in the centerpieces.

Actually, I don't know what they're laughing at.  But I think my guess is a good one, because what's funnier than soybeans?



Derek, teaching our niece, Aria, to fly.  The smile on her face hides the terror in her heart.

Kidding again.  She loved being launched high into the air and being caught with a splash.

Adelaide bonding with our newest niece, Brielle, her aunt and other cousin.

I had hoped that playing with a baby girl for a couple days would pacify her enough to get off my back about producing a little sister for her.  I was wrong.



Caedmon taking advantage of some warm and willing arms at the wedding.  (Alliteration Alert!) 

And now, I think I'll go back to trying to get as much done as possible and not anxiously stare at the clock, willing 3:30 to come around so I can hear how Adelaide's first day was. 

It should be fun.