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    <title>New England Mamas</title>
    
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    <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:weblog-1416761</id>
    <updated>2009-10-17T08:24:37-04:00</updated>
    <subtitle>Four seasons, six states - and a wicked lot of mamas</subtitle>
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    <link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/NewEnglandMamas" type="application/atom+xml" /><feedburner:browserFriendly></feedburner:browserFriendly><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry>
        <title>How to talk to kids about cancer</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/10/talking-to-kids-about-cancer-is-not-an-easy-thing-and-both-times-cancer-has-struck-my-family-my-father-and-my-sister-in-law.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/10/talking-to-kids-about-cancer-is-not-an-easy-thing-and-both-times-cancer-has-struck-my-family-my-father-and-my-sister-in-law.html" thr:count="3" thr:updated="2009-11-07T13:40:23-05:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a646b102970c</id>
        <published>2009-10-17T08:24:37-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-17T08:24:37-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Talking to kids about cancer is not an easy thing, and both times cancer has struck my family (my father and my sister-in-law), I struggled with how to maintain a balance between truth and too-much-truth. And, unfortunately, I'm not alone...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Fairly Odd Mother</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Adults Only" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="current events" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Fairly Odd Mother" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Talking to kids about cancer is not an easy thing, and both times cancer has struck my family (my father and my sister-in-law), I struggled with how to maintain a balance between truth and too-much-truth. And, unfortunately, I'm not alone in my struggles as I don't know a single family who hasn't been touched by cancer in one way or another. <br /><br />To help parents deal with such a difficult and often emotionally charged subject, PBS will be airing a new episode of <em>Arthur</em> called <em>The Great MacGrady</em> on Monday, October 19. In the show, Mrs. MacGrady, the school cafeteria lunch lady, is diagnosed with cancer, and Arthur and his friends all deal with the news in different ways. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Verdana;">There will be a free advance screening of <em>Arthur's The Great MacGrady</em> this Sunday, October 18, 2009 at 2pm at WGBH's Yawkey Theatre in Brighton (One Guest Street). Following the half-hour show will be an hour-long panel discussion and Q&amp;A called <em>“When a Child Knows Someone With Cancer:
Helping Young Children Cope with the Cancer Diagnosis of a Loved One”</em></span>. <span style="font-family: Verdana;" /></p><p><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Those interested in attending must RSVP to wgbh.org/arthurscreening and the event is only open to guests over the age of 16. </span></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana;" /></p></div>
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    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>The Lakeville Haunted House is no ordinary walk in the woods</title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a645c828970c</id>
        <published>2009-10-16T22:08:14-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-16T22:09:33-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Last weekend, ten friends and I willingly let ourselves be led into the woods and chased by men with chainsaws. It was great fun. I don't normally "do" scary (just ask my husband who has to listen to me whimper...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Fairly Odd Mother</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Adults Only" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Fairly Odd Mother" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Massachusetts" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Ruth Dynamite" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Last weekend, ten friends and I willingly let ourselves be led into the woods and chased by men with chainsaws. </p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">It was great fun.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">I don't normally "do" scary (just ask my husband who has to listen to me whimper through PG movies), but I've been curious about the <a href="http://www.lakevillehauntedhouse.com/" target="_blank">Lakeville Haunted House</a> ever since I lived nearby and could hear screams coming from the woods. But, I never had the nerve to actually go to it. </p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">But, living away from the screams that start up every weekend in October has made me brave, and so I agreed to go during the opening weekend of its 18th year. </p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">From the vampire who sidled up to me and started growling in my ear, to the freaky clowns, blood-stained victims, witches, zombies and ghosts who popped out throughout, I spent my time alternating between screaming, jumping, and giggling madly. At one point, I just buried my face into my sister's back and walked as fast as possible.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">The only thing that saved me is that the ghouls are not allowed to touch you. And, when I became overcome with fear, I'd remind them, "<em>YOU CAN'T TOUCH ME!</em>".</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">But, that didn't help me when our small group approached the witches and were told to line up in groups of two. "<em>But I'm alone!</em>", I wailed, as my husband was home watching the kids.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">"<em>Oh, that's ok, m'dear,</em>" the witch cackled sweetly. "<em>We'll kill you first."</em></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>-----------------------------<br /></em></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>The Lakeville Haunted House is open Fridays and Saturdays until the 30th of October, and if you can get down there by Saturday the 17th, <a href="http://www.lakevillehauntedhouse.com/LowSpeed/Tickets.html" target="_blank">download the $3 off coupon</a> which will save you on the regular $13 admission. I love that this Haunted House operates as a non-profit with volunteers who spend their weekend nights scaring people; the proceeds from the Haunted House are donated to a bunch of local organizations.</em></p><p><em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Plan to spend some time, especially if you chose to go during the much-busier weekends close to Halloween. Visitors are grouped into small pods and spaced out for maximum creepiness, but this does mean you may be waiting a while to enter the woods. Dress warmly, wear good walking shoes and hope you make it out alive! And leave the kids home unless you really, really enjoy sleeping in their bed with all the lights on for the next five years.</span><br /></em></p></div>
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    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Falling for Honey Pot Hill</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/10/apple-picking.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/10/apple-picking.html" thr:count="8" thr:updated="2009-10-15T14:09:53-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a5e7c7a8970c</id>
        <published>2009-10-11T16:21:23-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-10-11T16:23:27-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Fall has tricked me into loving it. I used to whine over the end of summer, but somehow I've learned to love the leaves, the feel of the air, the shorter days, the corn mazes and hay rides and pumpkin...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Fairly Odd Mother</name>
        </author>
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Fall has tricked me into loving it. I used to whine over the end of summer, but somehow I've learned to love the leaves, the feel of the air, the shorter days, the corn mazes and hay rides and pumpkin picking.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">But, I really love picking apples. </p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Every year we go apple picking, and this year I decided to try a place I'd never visited before: <a href="http://www.honeypothill.com/pickyourown.php#" target="_blank" title="Honey Pot Hill Orchards, Stow, MA">Honey Pot Hill Orchards</a>. <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: Verdana; text-align: center;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=HoneyPotHill.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/HoneyPotHill.jpg" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;" /></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Honey Pot Hill Orchards is in Stow, MA and is perfect if you want to turn apple picking into an outing versus something you do just to get apples. Because, as you know, it doesn't take that long to pick apples even if you're going for the gigantic, two-hands-needed bag like we do.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Before I go any further though, I have one piece of advice for anyone wanting to go to Honey Pot Hill: <strong>go mid week</strong>. We went on a Tuesday in late September and it was perfect---bustling with people but not crowded. Lines to buy our bag for apples or to get on a hayride were reasonable. Parking was plentiful. I cannot, though, imagine how busy this place must be on a weekend, especially as we're approaching the end of apple season in New England.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">So, I recommend you pull your kids out of school or daycare, call in sick from work if necessary and go midweek.  Don't feel guilty: there were loads of school trips coming through when we were there, so I daresay there is even an educational angle to visiting an orchard.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">On the day we went, we first hit the mazes. They have a large "Hedge Maze" which had me reciting every line I could remember from The Shining. Seriously, they should spray that thing with snow on Halloween night and let people loose in it while someone chases them with an ax. Or. . .maybe they shouldn't.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">There is also a "Tunnel Maze" in one of the barns which I was relieved was only for kids to crawl through. Both mazes asked for a nominal fee to be left, honor-system style in collection boxes at the entrance.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">For kids who like animals, there is a cute "three little pigs" pen with, you guessed it, three little pigs. And, the goat pen in the center had all my kids enthralled for quite some time.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1496.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1496.jpg" style="width: 552px; height: 413px;" /></a></div><p>
</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">After buying our bag and a ticket for the hayride, we took a  quintessential New England hay ride out to the orchards. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1501.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1501.jpg" style="width: 548px; height: 409px;" /></a></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;" /><p style="font-family: Verdana;">Here is where I fell hard for Honey Pot Hill. First, there were no signs admonishing us to keep the apples away from our mouths. I mean, one of the greatest joys of going apple picking is eating an apple right off the tree; I hate being told I can't do this. If an orchard can't afford to let pickers eat an apple or two, they should raise their prices to account for those eaten while picking. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1506.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1506.jpg" style="width: 546px; height: 409px;" /></a></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">The other thing that made my kids swoon was that there were ladders perched up against the trees so that the kids could climb up to pick apples. My kids didn't need to be asked twice. I'm surprised I didn't forget someone in a tree.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1509.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1509.jpg" style="width: 548px; height: 410px;" /></a></p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">After lugging our apples back to the hayride (and admiring the too-smart women who had thought to bring <a href="http://www.wonderwheeler.com/" target="_blank" title="Wonder Wheel Beach Cart">this</a> along), we hit the Apple Shop for warm, sugary cider donuts, honey sticks and a gallon-jug of cider. I think you lose your Massachusetts license if you try to leave without buying some of their donuts, because no sane person could resist those things.</p><p style="font-family: Verdana;">And, yeah, about three weeks later, I'm still using up the apples. </p><p /></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Hello Autumn!  Can I Just Say, You Look Beautiful! </title>
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        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a5e1df69970c</id>
        <published>2009-09-22T00:15:00-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-22T12:36:07-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Photo by me Autumn and I have had a lifelong love affair that grows more exciting with each passing year. She shows up on my doorstep, the gorgeous fiery red-headed beauty she is, hair blowing about her, insists I take...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Audrey</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Audrey" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Maine" />
        
        
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<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a586bdeb970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: block;"><img alt="Pelletier Pond photo by me" class="at-xid-6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a586bdeb970b " src="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a586bdeb970b-450wi" style="margin: 0px; width: 425px; height: 633px;" /></a></div><p class="asset asset-image">
</p> <div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: 11px; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Photo by me</span></em></div><p>Autumn and I have had a lifelong love affair that grows more exciting with each passing year. </p><p>She
shows up on my doorstep, the gorgeous fiery red-headed beauty she is,
hair blowing about her, insists I take her hand, and spirits me away on
a yearly adventure.  She's never missed a year, despite the presence of
an Indian Summer, or the early arrival of Old Man Winter.  She arrives
and claims her time with me even in the face of the last hot boastful
breaths of summer or the bone-chilling exhalations of an early winter. 
I might be distracted, or not completely whole, but she never fails to
demand my time.   She's a passionate and greedy lover and I am
powerless to resist her call.  </p><p>I am even more drawn to her as I
inhale her intoxicating perfume, a mixture of the first hints of
apple-wood smoke from chimney's, a brisk chill in the air, apple cider,
cinnamon, cloves and an earthy smell that when combined make me swoon
with desire for my beloved.  As I walk with her, the crisp crunch of
fallen leaves underfoot make me tingle with excitement and fill me with
a joy unlike anything I experience any other time of year.  Autumn is a
generous lover and gifts me with a bacchanal for my senses.  </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a58b3dcb970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: block;"><img alt="Leaves on our street" class="at-xid-6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a58b3dcb970b " src="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a58b3dcb970b-450wi" style="margin: 0px; width: 425px; height: 636px;" /></a></div><p class="asset asset-image">
</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: 10px; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Photo by me</span></em></p><p>I am 'silly in love' with Autumn.   Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you that I become just a <strong><em>little</em></strong>
wild this time of year.   I'm not so dissimilar from the crisp amber
leaf that finds itself carried away on a brisk fall breeze as it begins
its descent from where it was born, grew, and spent its youthful
glory upon the mighty arm of perhaps a maple or even a stately oak
tree.  </p><p>All spring and summer long, it sat aloft and took in the
rebirth of life all around it, weathered the tempter tantrums of spring
and the fickle nature that is a New England summer.  Now it sets its
sights on places unknown.  Maybe it's a short ride to the ground below
where it will end up amongst its red, yellow, orange and amber colored
brothers and sisters in a huge pile to be jumped into with the wild
abandon of youth - and some not so young, or perhaps this breeze will
carry it further afar to places unknown.  Maybe it's a brief journey
upon the wind through apple-laden orchards, or across fields of golden
corn, waiting for the coming harvest.  </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a5e1d277970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: block;"><img alt="Apples in rocky ridge orchard" class="at-xid-6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a5e1d277970c " src="http://iambarkingmad.com/.a/6a00d8341e131a53ef0120a5e1d277970c-450wi" style="margin: 0px; width: 425px; height: 635px;" /></a><br /><em><span style="font-size: 10px; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Photo by me</span></em><br /></div><p>Like me, the leaf is powerless to the beckon of Autumn.  She wants what she wants, and she always gets what she wants. </p><p>My yearly affair with Autumn is a bit scandalous.  You know what?  I wouldn't have it any other way.  I actually <em><strong>feel</strong></em>,
(for the first time in a long time), with every fiber and cell of my
being, like being scandalous, a little bawdy, and more than just a
touch celebratory with the arrival of Autumn.  She excites my senses
and makes me feel alive, more <em><strong>truly</strong></em> alive than I do any other time of year.  </p><p><em><strong>More of life's absurdities and observations of life along the Maine coast from Audrey can be found at <a href="http://www.iambarkingmad.com" target="_blank">Barking Mad!</a><br /></strong></em></p></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Beginning of the School Year Fatigue?</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/09/beginning-of-the-school-year-fatigue.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/09/beginning-of-the-school-year-fatigue.html" thr:count="5" thr:updated="2009-09-22T15:53:59-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a5a2b741970c</id>
        <published>2009-09-05T13:50:54-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-09-05T13:50:54-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Ever since my older son was born I have been looking forward to him going to kindergarten. Relax! I'm kidding! In all honesty, kindergarten did hold a certain appeal to me for a variety of reasons. First of all, I...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Alex Elliot</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Alex Elliot" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="education" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>Ever since my older son was born I have been looking forward to him going to kindergarten.  Relax!  I'm kidding!  In all honesty, kindergarten did hold a certain appeal to me for a variety of reasons.  First of all, I just loved kindergarten myself and I was looking forward to my son being able to experience it. Second, can we just say the bus?  Yes, I know that a lot of parents don't like the bus.  In fact, reactions to the bus seemed to be almost on the same level as formula feeding. However, in our town, all the kids go to one big kindergarten only school and the buses therefore are kindergarten only buses.  My child would get to have a wonderful time at kindergarten, and I wouldn't need to drive him.  What else could I ask for?</p><p>In the middle of the summer, we found out that he got off the waitlist for full day kindergarten.  Seeing as getting a spot in full day kindergarten is like winning the lottery, I quickly accepted it and hoped that our lines hadn't been taped.  Who knows who may have tried to impersonate me and deny the acceptance so their child could get in off the waitlist!  I'm kidding!  But we did quickly accept the spot.  </p><p>The morning of the first day of  kindergarten came this week.  All of the sudden instead of being the relaxed Zen mom, alright I'm not ever really that, I was rushing around the house trying to get lunch packed, the backpacked packed, the name tag found etc.  Basically stuff I thought I had prepared for the night before but actually putting it together took forever.  I got him off without a problem but had used the time I normally prepare for our day to prepare for kindergarten so my younger son and I were over a half hour late to meet friends at the park.  Yes, I used to run late all the time when they were babies, but for the past year and a half or so I'm pretty much always on time.  </p><p>The afternoon came and all of the sudden it was just my younger son and me.  He didn't have his brother to play with him.  That meant I needed to do it.  Sure, I play with my kids every day, but not the whole afternoon.  Late afternoon came, and we had a bus mishap:  my older son was put on the wrong bus.  It was his birthday too.    Everything ended up being fine, but I put on my best performance ever to not act as a panicked mother and freak out my kids and everyone else's.  </p><p>The next day was pretty much a repeat of the day before except fortunately everything went well with the bus and I didn't have an <em>hour</em> worth of forms to fill out like I had the previous evening.  I went to bed at 8:30 pm which is early for me.  Friday was the last day.  This time I sent in a lunch ticket.  Again, pretty much the same as the day before had been.  </p><p>Last night my husband commented on how tired I looked.  I commented on how exhausted I felt.   There was no denying that I was just wiped out from the week.  I know that it will get better.  I know that when I no longer have a birthday cake in my fridge my son and I can put together his lunch the night before so at least that will be better.   I think what I was just so surprised by was that I was on major mom mode the whole day.  I did even touch on getting him to Tae Kwon Do this week or the fact the my husband had two soccer coaching meetings this past week in the evening.  </p><p>Somehow I had foolishly thought that I had made it past the rough part of  parenting schedules only to realize that things had just shifted.   It's like when you think that when your child is out of diapers that you'll suddenly have all this money when in fact the money is just being spent differently like on swim lessons and/or preschool.  </p><p>Words of advice from any of you seasoned moms out there?  I would greatly appreciate it.  For the record, my younger one will be starting preschool two afternoons a week in a couple weeks.  </p></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Wish You Were Here </title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/08/as-i-sit-here-ready-to-post-this-its-literally-pouring-down-rain--by-the-bucket-full-there-is-nothing-prosaic-or-pretty-abo.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/08/as-i-sit-here-ready-to-post-this-its-literally-pouring-down-rain--by-the-bucket-full-there-is-nothing-prosaic-or-pretty-abo.html" thr:count="7" thr:updated="2009-08-27T18:42:38-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bafec970c</id>
        <published>2009-08-23T19:54:01-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-08-23T21:59:47-04:00</updated>
        <summary>As I sit here ready to post this, it's literally pouring down rain by the bucket-full. There is nothing prosaic or pretty about this kind of rain...the kind of rain which was preceded by booming rounds of thunder and electric...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Audrey</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Audrey" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Maine" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>As I sit here ready to post this, it's literally pouring down rain
by the bucket-full.  There is nothing prosaic or pretty about this kind
of rain...the kind of rain which was preceded by booming rounds of
thunder and electric flashes of silvery tendrils of lightning. 
Normally I love a wicked-good thunderstorm; the kind that sets the
imagination ablaze with tales
of shipwrecked mariners coming to rest upon the rocks buffeting ancient
lighthouses, or ghastly stories of the ghosts of long dead New
Englanders.  However <em><strong>this</strong></em> kind of rain?  The kind of rain that beats my shy little flowers into submission, drowns the newly planted seedlings and makes my cats howl with utter contempt at all that slippery wetness preventing them from running around outdoors as if their tails were alight?  I don't like it at all. </p><p>The thunder has passed and the lightning has all
but burnt out into the drowning torrents of rain.  And now there is but
rain.  A lot of rain. </p><p>Yesterday?  Not so much, although we were
told to expect it.  Most of us along the coast of the New England
seaboard were breathing a collective sigh of relief that our coastal
areas and adjacent wetlands were not going to be in the direct path of
Hurricane Bill after all.  It seems Bill decided to pass up blue crabs
from the warm waters of the Chesapeake Bay and lobster from New
England's deep indigo depths in search of other playgrounds to harass. 
At least avoiding a direct hit gives the asylum here a brief reprieve
in order to stock up on things like candles, batteries and a stockpile
of Valium which will come in handy - if not during hurricane season
then the subsequent Nor'easter season which will be upon us soon
enough.  Two teenagers, a toddler and four cats, mixed with no
electricity is enough to drive anyone over the edge.  Heck, even on a
good day, when we have all the trappings of modern life, it's enough to
drive me insane. </p><p>So what did we do yesterday in light of
not-impending-doom?  We took a drive down to York Beach and Nubble
Light to watch the breakers roll in and catch a glimpse of the massive
surf that had been predicted for the Maine coast.  I just wish I'd read
the bit about the "dense fog as thick as clam chowdah" in the weather
blurb. It made the drive around the twisty bits of Shore Road  and the
1A in York, <em><strong>interesting</strong></em>. </p><p>Once we hit Nubble Light, the fog cleared a bit and I was able to snap off a few halfway decent shots. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e1ab970b-pi" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Nubble Light 1 uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e1ab970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e1ab970b-320wi" /></a> </span> </p><p style="text-align: left;">When my love of photography started to morph into something other than just a fun hobby, one of the goals I set for myself was to capture the essence of breaking waves on the shore.  So far I haven't been able to, or even come close.  Yet there's just something about the way the waves crash against the rocks and how the white caps slam into jetty that always takes my breath away.   </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e53e970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Breaking waves 1 uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e53e970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e53e970b-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb4fd970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Breaking waves 2 uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb4fd970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb4fd970c-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb545970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Breaking waves 3 uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb545970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bb545970c-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e6fa970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Breaking waves 5 uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e6fa970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514e6fa970b-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: left;">The sight, sound, and the smell of the ocean enlivens my senses and fills my soul with joy.  There is something about the sea that renews me when I am weak and reminds me that simple yet amazing beauty abounds in the state I call home.   I don't think I could ever live in a place that wasn't bordered by the ocean.  I feel a deep connection to the waters that border this land; a bond I have a hard time articulating. </p><p style="text-align: left;">The inky water which caresses our shores is just one of the many aspects of life along the coast that moves and inspires me.  One of my favorite flowers is the sea rose.  It's so very beautiful, delicate and soft yet must be resilient  in order to stand up to the constant salty sea-spray, the winds that wrap their arms about the shore and the pelting of sand.  The sea rose is  sort of an allegory for the kind of woman I long to be. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ea95970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="White sea rose uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ea95970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ea95970b-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;" /><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ead9970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Pink sea rose uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ead9970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514ead9970b-320wi" /></a></p><p style="text-align: left;">Of course, the most beautiful things seen a long the shore yesterday were two of the jewels in my crown...my kids.   Ever patient and always willing to let me click away at a moments notice. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514fcd1970b-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Matt on Rocks at Nubble uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514fcd1970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a514fcd1970b-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bcb94970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Gaby looking up at seagull uto" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bcb94970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330120a56bcb94970c-320wi" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: left;"><em><strong>More of life's absurdities and observations of life along the Maine coast from Audrey can be found at <a href="http://www.iambarkingmad.com" target="_blank">Barking Mad! </a></strong></em></p><p style="text-align: left;" /></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>Even though the cops shot our mascot, I love my wacky little town</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/08/even-though-the-cops-shot-our-mascot-i-love-my-wacky-little-town.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/08/even-though-the-cops-shot-our-mascot-i-love-my-wacky-little-town.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-08-11T15:42:11-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330120a52be890970c</id>
        <published>2009-08-07T22:30:29-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-08-08T08:49:02-04:00</updated>
        <summary>I'm pretty certain this story could only happen in a small town. For months, we've had a rogue turkey living next to Five Corners, the craziest intersection in town. I had seen this turkey a few times and think it...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Fairly Odd Mother</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Fairly Odd Mother" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Massachusetts" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>I'm pretty certain this story could only happen in a small town.
</p><p><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1294.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1294.jpg" /></a>
</p><p /><p /><p>For
months, we've had a rogue turkey living next to Five Corners, the craziest
intersection in town. I had seen this turkey a few times and think it
may have been the one written about in the newspaper back in
April:</p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: courier new;">3:06
p.m. - Caller reported an injured wild turkey at the Highland Plaza,
Robert Drive. Animal Control Officer responded, reported turkey was now
sun-bathing in a bush does not look injured.<br /><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ahhh, yes, that had to be Freddy. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Freddy the turkey didn't just live near the intersection. He walked
into traffic, playing chicken-- so to speak-- with the cars that
screeched to a halt to let him pass. He pecked at the door of a local
church, visited our nearby Target and even <a href="http://www.enterprisenews.com/homepage/x1622003200/VIDEO-EXTRA-Is-Easton-turkey-gobbling-up-bargains-at-local-store" target="_blank">strolled the aisles of the
dollar store.</a> <br /><br />But, his thing was motorcycles. <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP0915-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP0915-1.jpg" /></a> <br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Unfortunately
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIuFsUj4Tew" target="_blank">motorcycles don't really want to be chased by a turkey as they try to drive down
the street</a>. So, let's just say that after one-too-many complaints about Freddy, he met with a bullet to the gullet from our local police.</span></span></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: courier new;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I won't use this space to rant about  how I feel about this decision (<em>I don't like it</em>), but I understand that a well-known turkey causing a major crash in a busy intersection spells l-a-w-s-u-i-t in this day and age. But, really, was it the best, and only, option? I think not. <br /></span></span></span></p>
<p>But, what has been hilariously heartwarming is the outpouring of love for Freddy
since news of his death started traveling around
town. The Five Corners Turkey Facebook page has over 1,500 fans. There have been news reports on <a href="http://www.wbz.com/Turkey-Memorial-In-Easton/4963155" target="_blank">radio</a> and <a href="http://www.thebostonchannel.com/video/20304272/index.html" target="_blank">TV</a>. A l<a href="http://www.justgoodcars.com/11523/car-dealer/furnace-brook-motors.html" target="_blank">ocal used-car dealer</a> has even set up a makeshift memorial, which we visited today.</p><p><a href="http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/?action=view&amp;current=IMGP1292.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" src="http://i140.photobucket.com/albums/r40/fairlyoddmother/IMGP1292.jpg" /></a></p><p> Cars honked constantly while we were there. And, I suppose that was fitting for the turkey who liked to walk into traffic.</p><p /><p /></div>
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>The Summer that Never Came</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/the-summer-that-never-came.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/the-summer-that-never-came.html" thr:count="5" thr:updated="2009-08-06T11:38:42-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf3388330115724dec06970b</id>
        <published>2009-07-31T14:34:58-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-07-31T14:36:55-04:00</updated>
        <summary>Have you ever waited for something for so long that never came? Maybe your standing there on the corner, waiting for the ice cream truck that never came. Your could hear it's "ding-a-ling-a-ling" in the distance as you stood there...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Whirlwind</name>
        </author>
        
        
<content type="html" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;o:smarttagtype name="place" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"&gt;&lt;/o:smarttagtype&gt;

&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Have you ever waited for something for so long that never came?&amp;#0160; Maybe your standing there on the corner, waiting for the ice cream truck that never came.&amp;#0160; Your could hear it&amp;#39;s &amp;quot;ding-a-ling-a-ling&amp;quot; in the distance as you stood there clutching that crumbled dollar bill in your hand.&amp;#0160; And you stood there.&amp;#0160; Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.&amp;#0160; Until the sound grew fainter and fainter, and the sky grew darker.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I think many of my fellow New Englanders can agree when I
call this the summer that never came, even though we were sitting here waiting.&amp;#0160; With bathing suits and sunblock, hats and beach chairs, sand pails and shovels at the ready.&amp;#0160; Waiting to put those jeans and fleece* away.&amp;#0160;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It wasn’t until July 25&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; that the temperatures actually reached
(and stayed) above 80 for a few consecutive days.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;This summer has been a mixture of rain and
below average temperatures.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;Which of
course has paved the way for above average swarms of mosquitoes, colossal
growth or poison ivy (and other unsavory weeds) and tomatoes blight.&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;First the rain.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;While
we enjoy trekking through the trails of &lt;st1:place w:st="on"&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; New England,
we’ve had a hard time getting out there between the downpours.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We’ve walked on trails that at times, days
after a significant rainfall, were running rivers.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We’ve almost gotten my van stuck (twice!) on
dirt roads that are un-maintained (supposedly only in winter) that were
completely washed out.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;“Hello AAA, I’m
out in the middle of no where and was off-roading in my Town and Country, can
you come tow me out?”&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We’ve had to dash
up hills from ½ mile out in the woods to bet the thunderstorms rolling in
(despite their being no bad weather on the forecast – welcome to New England).&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;I’ve
had to dry out my basement more times then I care to recount.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;It’s been one of those years that I’m
actually glad the basement is only partially finished!

&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;The weather, while comfortable, doesn’t make for good beach
weather.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We’ve still visited the local
lake.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;And while I sit on the beach in
jeans, wrapped in a beach towel, Einey, Meenie and Moe happily frolic in the
water.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;I ventured in to take my swim
test and nearly died of hypothermia.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160;
&lt;/span&gt;Brrr.&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;The bugs have been horrendous.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;The mosquitoes are everywhere.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;There is no combating them.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We ran out of our deep-woods off (yes, full
of DEET, completely toxic and sure to harm my children) and tried out some CVS
brand DEET free repellent the last time we went hiking.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;The can promptly got its DEET-FREE a$$ thrown
in the first garbage we came across.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;I
swear it attracted more creepy, biting insects then it repelled.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;My girls are one giant walking bug bite.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;Ticks thankfully haven’t been seen in large
numbers since June, but with September coming, I’m sure they’ll be back in
force.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;One child with Lyme Disease is
enough for one summer.&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;Poison Ivy and other unsavory weeds are invading garden
everywhere.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;On the rare chance I can get
outside to work in my gardens, I spend more time weeding then anything
else.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;I know weeding is a normal chore,
but there is no end in sight.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;In some
spots, my weeds are bigger then the plants around them.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;And the veggies.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;For
the first year, we joined a farm share.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160;
&lt;/span&gt;Let me tell you, it’s been great!&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160;
&lt;/span&gt;Once a week, we get an email from the farm saying this is what’s
available and this is the cost.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We email
back what we want and pick it up on Saturday.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160;
&lt;/span&gt;No work, no hassle.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;We’ve saved a
ton on veggies that end up rotting before we use them.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;These stay fresh longer and my kids actually
ask for them.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;Who knew they liked salad
turnips, beet or carrots?&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;But with the
rain, many farmers have had to plant and replant 2-3 times.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;Crops like tomatoes, corn and potatoes are
being affected by fungus and blight.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;The
standing water is rotting the roots causing farmers to lose huge portions of
their crops.&lt;/p&gt;



&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;#0160;&lt;/o:p&gt;Tomorrow will be August first.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;School starts in 26 days.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;That may seem like a lot, but for kids who
have spent a majority of time dodging raindrops, it’s not that long.&lt;span&gt;&amp;#0160; &lt;/span&gt;Let’s all hope for a warmer, drier August.&amp;#0160; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 11px; font-family: Arial;"&gt;*And just in case your wondering, the fleece never got put away - it&amp;#39;s still hanging in the closets for those nights when we need it, although those nights have (crosses fingers) finally gone away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content>


    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>In New Hampshire, no one can hear you scream</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/in-new-hampshire-no-one-can-hear-you-scream.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/in-new-hampshire-no-one-can-hear-you-scream.html" thr:count="0" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf338833011572191339970b</id>
        <published>2009-07-20T09:00:00-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-07-20T09:00:00-04:00</updated>
        <summary>What happens when you combine three (relatively) small children craving entertainment and two parents craving beer? The answer, of course, is a road trip to a magical land that offers the best of both worlds — a place where the...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>TwoBusy</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="New Hampshire" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>What happens when you combine three (relatively) small children craving entertainment and two parents craving beer? The answer, of course, is a road trip to a magical land that offers the best of both worlds — a place where the sun always shines, the streets are paved with gold and visions of sugarplums dance in the heads of all who come to share the good times. I speak, of course, of the greater Portsmouth, NH area: just over an hour north of Boston, and an easy day trip even for those <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">dragging along their unholy legion of offspring</span> bringing along the kids for a little weekend fun.</p><p><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330115712495f3970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: left;"><img alt="Childrens_Museum_New_Hampshire" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf3388330115712495f3970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf3388330115712495f3970c-200wi" style="margin: 0px 5px 5px 0px; width: 200px;" /></a> Specifically, our target was the <a href="http://www.childrens-museum.org/cmnh/Default.aspx" target="_blank">Children's Museum of New Hampshire</a> in Dover - a quick 10-15 minutes outside of Portsmouth - but as we somehow didn't get on the road until about 10:30 in the morning... well, the kids needed lunch, right?</p><p>Well, children: what a happy coincidence. Because, as it happens, directly on the way to Dover are not one but two spectacular brewpubs — both of which feature kid-friendly menus and a flotilla of outstanding brews for parents who might consider a reinforcement or two necessary before plunging into the <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">nightmarish miasma</span> fun-filled goodtimeyness of a kids' museum. The first of these (and a longtime favorite of TheWife and I) is the <a href="http://www.portsmouthbrewery.com/" target="_blank">Portsmouth Brewery</a> in downtown Portsmouth, a sister business to the popular <a href="http://smuttynose.com/" target="_blank">Smuttynose Brewing Company</a> and easily one of the best brewpubs in all of New England <em>(FYI: beyond the Smutty brews, they also produce a lot of their own stuff, and it's generally outstanding. They also have non-liquid food, should you feel so inclined, and it's honestly quite good. Check it out, yo.)</em> </p><p>On this particular Saturday, however, we decided to forego downtown Portsmouth and instead stop by option #2, which is only a couple of minutes off Rte. 4/16 (the main road between Portsmouth and Dover) and turned out to be extremely satisfying as well: the <a href="http://www.redhook.com/Default.aspx?p=37" target="_blank">Cataqua Pub at the Red Hook Brewery</a>. The Brewery itself is a massive, green-roofed facility, and after winding our way through the maze of office park roads at the Pease International Tradeport we found our way to its welcoming arms: a big, open pub area offering an extensive range of Red Hook's exceptional offerings and a very respectable pub-style menu (much expanded from the far-more-limited options available when we'd visited two years previously). TheWife and I ordered a sampler flight and a monstrous pile of nachos, the kids got hot dogs and burgers, and everyone enjoyed a very happy hour or so soaking up the bright, open atmosphere and good times. </p><p>Thus saturated with hops and guacamole (or chocolate milk and fries, in our kids' case, as we tend to limit their beer consumption during daylight hours to a pint or two), we resumed our journey and traveled onward to Dover... and the New Hampshire Children's Museum. The Museum itself is in downtown Dover, which is kind of charming beyond the remarkably poor civil engineering of its traffic light system (constant gridlock. Seriously. I had to travel to Dover on business a couple of years ago, and at 11am on a Tuesday I hit the same terrible gridlock as I did at 12:30pm on a Saturday. It's unavoidable, and a pain in the (fill in anatomical reference), but ultimately a 10-15 minute delay that you and your family can survive. Because once you navigate the lights and find your way into down, on-street parking is relatively easy (at least, it was for us) and Shazam: you're in.).</p><p>After shelling out $40 for admission for five, we made our way in — and our kids were immediately entranced by the fun &amp; interactive yellow submarine just beyond the entrance. The submarine actually turned out to be quite emblematic of the museum as a whole: an interesting combination of educational value and imaginary play facilitation. There were a couple of hands-on items inside for the kids to play with (e.g. sonar, navigating the sub) as well as some bunks and portholes that allowed them to pretend to be underwater and attacked by a wide and fascinating array of bloodthirsty undersea creatures, including but not limited to giant sharks, giant squid, giant octopi and giant sea monsters. By and large, the part of the bloodthirsty giant thing was played by me.</p><p><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf33883301157124a3b9970c-popup" onclick="window.open( this.href, '_blank', 'width=640,height=480,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0' ); return false" style="float: left;"><img alt="NH_Childrens_Museum_submarine" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf33883301157124a3b9970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf33883301157124a3b9970c-200wi" style="margin: 0px 5px 5px 0px; width: 200px;" /></a> From there, we proceeded to the immediately adjacent Build It, Fly It exhibit, which basically allows your kids to stick together a couple of pieces of foam and then put them on one of four conveyer belts, which they crank via handle up about 40 feet into the air... at which point the foam goes over the top of the belt and then flutters downward to the delight of all small people. You'll get bored after the second foam flutter experience, but your kids will be enthralled for a good twenty minutes, guaranteed.</p><p>Much of the rest of the Museum is dedicated to exhibits much more conducive to imaginary play than hands-on experimentation — for example, there's a large, old west-style post office where our twin 4yo girls spent a happy 20 minutes pretending to be mean-spirited postal employees, as well as several other sections that invite kids to put on costumes and imagine themselves as part of different cultures or to play field paleontologist in a dinosaur dig.</p><p>The Museum offers two levels of exhibits, although most of them are limited to the large first floor. The second floor features a couple of all-ages exhibits, including one faux-castle that the 4yo former postal employees lovingly transformed into their own tyrannical dominion, but is dominated by a larger area designed for kids 3 and under. This turned out to be something of an issue for us, as the under-3 area includes an elaborate Brio train area that our 6yo wanted to play with – leading to his subsequent meltdown when told he was too big/too old for that section. Leading to the discovery that, despite the title of this post, in New Hampshire everyone can - in fact - hear you scream; in particular, they can hear your 6yo scream bloody murder as he throws a massive fit to the point where you have to pick him up, carry him all the way down the long ramp from the second floor to the first, and finally physically remove him from the premises. </p><p>Which was fun. I highly recommend ending all museum outings that way.</p><p>Overall, we found the museum to be a very positive experience (except for, uh, the way it ended). The facility is spacious, bright &amp; colorful, and the exhibits are visually interesting and VERY MUCH geared toward the facilitation of imaginative play (with an educational bent). If your kids prefer more concrete, hands-on play, keep this in mind before you make the trip. Otherwise, go for it — for us, we found it a very worthwhile addition to our coterie of New England Children's Museums.</p><p>(And don't forget to stop for a pint or two on your way in and out. Your kids get a museum trip, you get a delicious microbrew and some good eats... it's a complete win-win.)</p></div>
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    </entry>
    <entry>
        <title>It's Not ALL About the Lobsters</title>
        <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/its-not-all-about-the-lobsters.html" />
        <link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/2009/07/its-not-all-about-the-lobsters.html" thr:count="2" thr:updated="2009-07-16T20:30:51-04:00" />
        <id>tag:typepad.com,2003:post-6a00e54edbaf338833011572074b14970b</id>
        <published>2009-07-15T00:05:00-04:00</published>
        <updated>2009-08-04T11:33:09-04:00</updated>
        <summary>When you think of Maine, what is the first thing you think of? If you said "lobster" you'd be in good company. When most people think of Maine, before they think of our bucolic coastline dotted with antiquated lighthouses, shipbuilding,...</summary>
        <author>
            <name>Audrey</name>
        </author>
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Audrey" />
        <category scheme="http://www.sixapart.com/ns/types#category" term="Maine" />
        
        
<content type="xhtml" xml:lang="en-US" xml:base="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/new_england_mamas/">
<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p>When you think of Maine, what is the first thing you think of?  </p><p>If you said "lobster" you'd be in good company.   When most people think of Maine, before they think of our bucolic coastline dotted with antiquated lighthouses,  shipbuilding, moose, or even the Maine blueberry, they think of lobster.  Often, they not only think of it, they start to salivate when they picture a fat juicy crustacean on their plate, accompanied by drawn butter, corn on the cob and maybe even a side of clam chowder, or "chowdah" as we like to say 'round these parts. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf33883301157207320f970b-pi" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Lobster dinner" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf33883301157207320f970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf33883301157207320f970b-320wi" /></a> <br /><a href="http://ncss.typepad.com/my_weblog/2009/04/maine-state-society-dinner-is-saturday-may-8th.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 10px;">image credit</span></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">But before you start drooling all over yourself just thinking about a twin lobster feast, I'd like to point out some other interesting things about Maine that I think make it stand out.  There's a lot more to eat up here besides  lobster, a'yup! <br /><br />Personally, I think the blueberry gets the short end of the stick when it comes to popular Maine culinary treats.   There are myriad things you can do with that roly poly, juicy blue ball that's chock full of antioxidants.   You can even pick these babies yourself whereas with lobster, you have to wait for a salty old seaman to dredge one of those things up from the depths of the ocean.   <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011572073d80970b-pi" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Blueberries" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf338833011572073d80970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011572073d80970b-320wi" /></a> <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.antioxidant-fruits.com/blueberry.html" target="_blank">image credit</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Blueberry pie, muffins, scones and tea are just a few things that this versatile berry can do. Who ever heard of lobster muffins or lobster pancakes, or heaven forbid, lobster tea? And certainly not lobster pie!    If you love ice cream, why not take a crack at making some homemade blueberry ice cream?   Again, I don't think you're going to find any of our local dairy bars touting a cool, creamy lobster cone sprinkled with jimmies.  <br /><br />Of course, blueberries <em><strong>are</strong></em> wicked awful when it comes to getting  that drippy purply-blue juice off your clothing or fingers.  I reckon I've tried just about everything to get blueberry stains out of my three year old daughter's clothing.   After canning several jars of blueberry preserves, my fingers and nail beds have been so stained that I've had people ask me if I was getting enough oxygen.   There's nothing worse than taking your toddler out to run errands and have people stare at you because her lips, cheeks, and fingers are stained blue.  It's lovely having people think your offspring is part smurf, or suffering from several oxygen deprivation.  <br /><br />Don't even get me started on what happens when one of those round little suckers rolls off the counters and the kittens come scampering after it, drag it into the living room and then somehow manage to smear it all over the white suede furniture.  Yeah, lets not even go there! <br /><br />Maybe, just maybe the blueberry is getting the short end of the stick for a reason. <br /><br />How about those moose?  <br /><br />What can I say about moose? <br /><br />Well, they are big.  There's no doubt about that.  Oh and get this, if you visit Maine you can even check out our very own <a href="http://www.lenlibby.com/lifesizemoose.html" target="_blank">1500lb solid chocolate moose.</a>  That's right, Linny is all chocolate.  <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011572074179970b-pi" style="display: inline;"><img alt="MESCAmoose1" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf338833011572074179970b " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011572074179970b-320wi" /></a> <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I bet if Linny were to come careening into your SUV out of nowhere, he'd do some pretty major damage.  Well, if he didn't melt first.  If you do happen to come across a real non-chocolate moose on the road and just happen to run into one (although I'm of the personal opinion that they launch themselves at passing automobiles),  make sure you repeatedly tell your toddler that Linny is just fine and no, all that chocolate is not going to go to waste.  Your car has just been totaled but it's important that your kid knows they can just melt Linny back into the moose he was and all will be well.  Of course, you're probably going to be picking pieces of windshield out of your mouth and hair for a while, and having a heart attack when you realize you opted for a larger deductible on your auto insurance so that you'd get lower premiums, but so long as the little ones know Linny is OK, then it's all good.   Not that I'd know anything at all about <em><strong>that</strong></em>.<br /><br />Now that I've thought about it, I suppose the case for the lobster could be made after all.  They don't stain your fingers or mouth, causing people to wonder if you're part fictional cartoon character or dying from a severe lack of oxygen.   Maybe you can't make lobster pie, but you <em><strong>can</strong></em> make a killer lobster bisque.   <br /><br />I can't recall the last time I saw anyone out driving and then suddenly swerve to avoid hitting a lobster.  I seriouly doubt that a lobster sent bouncing off your windshield will do any harm to anyone but itself.  They aren't likely to total your car either.  Bonus!   Besides, in my relativly short aquaintance with the bottom-dwelling crustacean, they've been much easier to introduce to my three year old, than a moose.  <br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011571129aee970c-pi" style="display: inline;"><img alt="Gaby and lobster" class="at-xid-6a00e54edbaf338833011571129aee970c " src="http://newenglandmamas.typepad.com/.a/6a00e54edbaf338833011571129aee970c-320wi" /></a> <br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The ironic thing about this?  I can't stand lobster.  Hate it.  Can't even stomach the smell.  I know, I know...I live in Maine and don't like lobster.  Or blueberries and certainly not moose. <br /><br />If you're visiting Maine, perhaps it really <em><strong>is </strong></em>all about the lobster. <br /><br /><em>More unsual obsurdities from Audrey can be found at <strong><a href="http://www.iambarkingmad.com" target="_blank">Barking Mad!</a></strong> </em><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
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