Summer of Stories: Slip n' slides and whipped cream

(Sarah, me, & Allison, circa early 90s?.)

I had a wonderful childhood.

I have nothing but good memories of my early childhood and elementary years. This is mostly thanks to my wonderfully creative, stay-at-home mother. I was an only child until I was eight, but my friends Allison and Sarah, and often two or three other kids, were our house every day. While we had plenty of free reign, it was my mother that helped orchestrate, and often joined in, our grandest adventures.

Summer was the best of all. We constructed elaborate slip n'slide set-ups in the back yard, where we'd tack tarps onto the end to make it longer, and still ruined the grass and our stomachs from overzealous sliding. My dad would bring refrigerator-sized boxes home from work, and we'd cut and color and open our own drive-through restaurant in the driveway. Bicycles were the vehicles of choice, and the "food" was usually tacos made from magnolia leaves. Sometimes we'd even schlep the plastic play food outside. Super Soaker water fights were a common occurrence, as were trips to the library and the public pool.

But the day that stands out above all the rest, the one that we still talk about as adults, was the day my mother

let.
us.
have.
a.
pie.
fight.

She even bought the supplies. She was that cool.

I don't know where the idea came from, probably Bugs Bunny or Nickelodeon, but we got it into our heads that slopping whipped cream pies into other people's faces had to be the epitome of a good time. Maybe because you just don't see people walking down the street, slapping whipped cream at others' heads, I dunno.

So, mom went to the store and bought a carload of Cool-Whip and pie tins. We donned our bathing suits, laid the pie tins on a picnic table, and began divvying up the Cool-Whip. We had amassed quite a few more kids at that point, I think, so this was a big deal. Everyone got two or three pie plates full, so you had to aim wisely. Our backyard was immense (at least it seemed to be back then) and full of shrubbery. Trees and bushes became fortresses, globs of whipped topping met would-be invaders.

I'm sure the fight lasted only minutes before our supplies were depleted, the grass was coated in corn syrup and hydrogenated oil, and we were sticky, dirty messes. So my mom did what any reasonable mother would do.

She broke out the slip n' slide.



(That picture up there really makes me want a Little Mermaid t-shirt.)

What do you remember?

I love Donald Miller. His latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, is really profound and incredible in so many ways. I recommend you read the entire book, but this post is going to be about a paragraph in the very first chapter.

Miller notes how little of life we actually remember - only a tiny fraction of a fraction of all the minutes and days we live. He says that his friend, Bob, writes down everything he remembers. Every minute detail, and Bob has filled more than 500 pages with his memories.

"He's the only guy I know," writes Miller, "who remembers his life. He said he captures memories, because if he forgets them, it's as though they didn't happen; it's as though he hadn't lived the parts he doesn't remember."

How much of life do you remember? Sure, you remember the big things, like major birthdays, weddings, trips to Disney World. But life is made up of thousands of small moments, of seemingly meaningless choices and habits and routines. Why are you the person you are now? It seems that we are made up of memories, and if we forget, we won't know who we really are.

One of my greatest regrets in life is not writing down my Grandpa's stories when I had the chance. Now I have to try to remember them on my own. That is why I'm going to start blogging about my memories this summer. Let's call it the Summer of Stories. I'd like to say that I'll write one every day, but I'm trying to be realistic here, so let's just say I'll try to post as often as possible. No memories are off-limits, whether they be childhood adventures or moments of teenage angst. I'll try to make sure there's some semblance of a point to everything. Please join in the fun by posting your own memories in the comments section.

As Miller continues, "The thing about trying to remember your life is it makes you wonder what any of it means. You get the feeling life means something, but you're not sure what. Life has a peculiar feel when you look back on it that it doesn't have when you're actually living it."

I'm looking forward to looking back. Hehe. :)

Reprieve

Summer is almost here. I can tell because the days are getting warmer and more humid, my second semester of grad school is officially over, and the sun is staying up nearly as long as I am in the evenings.

I am so grateful for the reprieve that is summer.

I received very, very good news this week. I am not allergic to any foods, much less the entire food pyramid. Apparently skin testing (which I had done this week) is much more reliable than blood testing (what I had done a couple weeks ago). As in, blood testing has a 50/50 reliability rate, while skin testing has a 95% reliability rate. I wish I had known that before, but I don't regret cutting all that stuff out of my diet for a few weeks. I diversified my food repertoire quite a bit. I've added everything back in except wheat and dairy, and I think I'm going to stay away from those for a while just because I feel better.

I decided against taking summer classes this year, just because I need a break and some time to finish settling into our new home. I'm excited to (finally) unpack that last room full of boxes, to paint my kitchen and bathroom, and to hang things on the walls. Time at home that doesn't involve sleeping or doing homework will be a good thing.

Summer hours start in two weeks. I love working at a school.

I hope you find rest and reprieve in at least some small way this summer, even if your work is not dictated by the school calender.

A nightmare

Have you ever woken up, and thought, maybe for just a split second, that perhaps yesterday was just a nightmare?

I did that today.

After a scary weekend of allergic reactions to an unknown substance, I went to the doctor this week and had some blood work done to see if I was allergic to anything. I got the results yesterday, and they're not good. In fact, I feel like someone has suddenly taken away any shred of freedom and independence I may have had.

According to that blood test, I am allergic to dairy, eggs, wheat, soy, corn, peanuts, walnuts, and sesame seeds. I was expecting maybe one or two things, but everything?

At first, I thought I could handle it. I eat very healthily anyway, so I'll just make substitutions, right? That worked until I realized I was allergic to the substitutions as well. Anything that's made gluten-free (without wheat) is usually made with at least some corn flour, but I can't eat corn. Anything made without eggs usually involves corn starch. Anything without dairy usually has soy in it. Even packaged dressings and condiments have corn syrup and soybean oil in them.

I literally cannot eat anything from the grocery store.

I have to make everything from scratch.

Now, if I stayed at home all day, this would be somewhat feasible. I could carefully control my food intake. This isn't possible, though, because in addition to a full time job, I'm also a grad student. I barely have time to take a shower in the morning and water my garden in the evening, there's no way in hell I have time to whip up a vinaigrette from scratch every time I have a salad.

But the thing is, I have no choice.

Yesterday, I was really sad. I cried a lot. Today I'm angry and bitter.

Think about how many things in our lives revolve around food. Birthday parties, nights out with friends, weddings, parties, church events. I can't participate in any of it, because there's no way of telling what's in something or how it was prepared. I can no longer eat at any of my favorite restaurants. I can't eat at any restaurants.

My two favorite things to do are to cook and to travel. Cooking has lost all of its joy, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to travel because I will never be able to eat anywhere.

I have an appointment with an allergist that's supposed to help me sort all this out and do some further testing, but it's not for three more weeks. There's a chance that I won't always be allergic to all of these things, but there's no way to know.

And in the meantime I have to somehow focus on work and finishing the semester of grad school.

I'm sorry this post is so depressing. I know I should be cheerful and chipper, determined to overcome and beat this, but I'm not. I'm just overwhelmed. And defeated.

So very defeated.