The Important Things

The men's and women's NCAA basketball tournaments now seem unimportant next to the tragedy of a lost life. Jason Ray, the 21-year-old student who played Rameses, the Carolina ram mascot, was struck by a car the afternoon of the men's eastern regional game. He died three days later from his injuries. My deep sympathies go to his family, his friends, and the UNC and Chapel Hill communities he served.

Leftover Ragout

Just some odds and ends here, catching up on what's been going on.

***

My daughter AC turned two yesterday. She's my special little girl who looks nothing like me. She loves "reading" books to me, drawing, saying nursery rhymes, building with blocks, pretending there's a tiger in the living room, tumbling, and stomping in mud puddles.

She is almost potty trained. I'm shocked, frankly, because I had absolutely nothing to do with it. She just decided to make the leap herself.

***

I've signed us up for another CSA subscription this year, from Calvert Farm in Maryland. We tried them two or three summers ago, but that season saw a terrible drought. Consequently, the boxes weren't near as full as usual, they told us. I'm hoping for more from them this time. Apparently, they are joining forces with a number of area small farms to offer more variety and fill in any gaps. They'll deliver a weekly box of organic fruits and vegetables from May through September to a local pickup point.

I invested in this partly because I decided not to do my raised bed vegetable gardening this summer, and partly because I love the "pot luck" aspect of cooking from what they give you. And of course, there's the satisfaction of helping local growers and eating fresh, organic produce. It's all good.

***

The Tarheels (both women and men) forge ahead into next weekend's tournament games. We are optimistic. Dook is out. We are joyful.

It's a Co-Ed Dance!!!

So, the Lady Tarheels are a number one seed in the NCAA Tourney, too. Can they, CAN THEY, finally win another championship? I was in grad school at Carolina when the men won, and then the women won, and, well, we were just floating around for a few years in glory-land. I WANT TO FLOAT AGAIN. Help me float, ladies.

It's Good Being First

My title is currently being used as a (trademarked) marketing slogan for the state of Delaware, whose motto is "the first state" because it was the first state to ratify the U.S. Constitution. Who knew? Who cares? The motto was forgotten as soon as the billboards were taken down. I'm not infringing, though, because I'm talking bout the 'Heels. Yes, the men's Tarheel basketball team are ACC champions for the umpteenth time and are now the number one seed in the East region for the NCAA championships.

GO HEELS!!!

Sharing the Waste, Sharing the Wealth

So, if you've read my blog for a while you've probably gleaned, or been hit over the head with, the idea that I like to save money on some things so that I can enjoy certain other things. For instance, I can't stand to pay full price for groceries or clothes when I know that, with a little research, I can save enough on those two things to pay for a fine dinner out with my husband. We also economize in order to pump up our retirement savings, our kids' college funds, and our "rainy day fund" (recently re-titled, "our rain-coming-through-the-old-roof fund"). So we drive our cars into the ground, never buy anything on time (i.e., with interest), hang-dry clothes, shop second-hand, etc. Yeah, I guess you could call me cheap. Fine.

Last night, I was reading through The Complete Tightwad Gazette, by Amy Dacyczyn, and came upon a money-saving idea I had never thought of: split the cost of garbage pick-up with a neighbor. So, for example, my neighbor and I would decide that she would get the contract with the collector, and then I would walk our garbage over to her bin (ten steps from ours) on pick-up day. When she got her quarterly bill, we'd pay half of it. Brilliant. Those ten steps alone would save us $135 a year. The problem: I don't think neighbors particularly want to talk garbage with each other, much less finances. Is a short-term discomfort worth $135/year to you? I'm giving that one some serious thought.

I'm Still Full

My dear and darling and thoughtful and still-forty-one-year-old-for-eight-more-months husband took me out for a surprise birthday dinner last night to Krazy Kats, at the Inn at Montchanin. And I still haven't quite recovered from the feast--in a good way, of course. Everything about the night was magical, from the drive in through the winding chateau country, through the hostess's warm greeting of, "Happy birthday!", to the lit candle on my espresso cheesecake. I'll be 42 on Tuesday, and this evening out was a gentle entree to the milestone, which has been troubling me lately.

I heartily recommend the restaurant for a special occasion dinner.