BEAN Post: A Table Fit for a Bean

WELCOME TO THE BLOG, MISS LILY BEAN...

Today is Thanksgiving and I am very excited to see my family at 5:30, but before then we have to get a lot of things done so our guest will be welcomed. This is what our tables look like. 

                                                      

I made a lot of things to decorate the house and tables. Let’s get started on telling what I did to decorate the table and house. First off I made these Tom the turkeys.

                                                       

All it needed was feathers, a glue gun, a foam ball, orange and brown paint, a paint brush, and googly eyes. All I did was I painted the foam ball brown and let them dry. Then I painted a beak orange on the foam ball. After all the paint dried I glued the eyes with a glue gun. Then I took the feathers and I took out all the orange, red, and yellow feathers so they would be Thanksgiving colors. I cut the feather into thirds so they won’t be too big and made holes on top of the the foam ball then I glued the bottom of the feather with a glue gun so it would stay and I stuck them in the holes. Then I let them dry and there were tons of Tom the turkeys on the table.

           

Next I made the edible turkeys. They look like this.

All you need to make the edible turkeys is any Oreos of your choice, Rice Krispies cereal, salted butter, any kind of chocolate, candy corns, and mini marshmallows. All you have to do is melt three tablespoons of butter and wait till it is all melted. Then you add three cups of marshmallows and wait till they are melted and together. Next you add three cups of Rice Krispies cereal and stir. Then put Rice Krispie mixture in a cake pan and put in fridge for about five minutes. Then you take it out of the fridge and roll the Rice Krispie mixture into balls. Then you take your Oreos and take out as many as you need for your guests. Then you take the same number of Oreos out again. Then you melt the chocolate and then you cover one group of the Oreos and cover them with chocolate and then put them in the fridge for about five minutes. After you take the Oreos out of the fridge you take some of your melted chocolate and put a handful on the bottom of the Rice Krispie ball. Then you put the Rice Krispie ball and put it on the Oreos that don’t have chocolate on them. Then you take the Oreos that do have chocolate on the back of the Rice Krispie ball with chocolate and leave a little bit of space on top of the Oreo so you can put the candy corns for the feathers. Then you use chocolate to stick the candy corns on the space that you left. Then you put a candy corn on the front of the Rice Krispie ball and add little eyes and you are done! 

I just decorated the table how I wanted. I am so thankful that I get to spend time with my family! I hope you have a great Thanksgiving! 

-Lily Bean

Thursday's Child ~ Welcome to the World, Sweet Davy Karol

She was born on a Thursday.  It was a normal Thursday for most.  But for some, it was a day that life changed forever.

David Bowie sang about Thursday's Child,

"Lucky old sun is in my sky

Nothing prepared me for your smile

Lighting the darkness of my soul

Innocence in your arms."

The birth of a child.  There's nothing like it.  It is the one single moment that demonstrates not only the existence, but the pure omnipotence of God.  The miracle of it is both humbling and fascinating all at the same time.

Innocent.
Delicate.
Tender.
Sweet.

And created by our Father with an absolute purpose.  Psalms 139 says it perfectly.

For you created my innermost being
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

14 

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Words danced around in my head as I held all 6 pounds of her in my arms.  I have waited a long time for it.  After all, we all know how special my aunties are to me.  I love her sweet baby scent and the crease in her lips.  I love the way my Lily girl adores the very thought of her.  I love her soft baby breath as she sleeps.

I'm not David Bowie, but I also savor moments with writing.  In honor of my first baby niece...

They counted her fingers.

They counted her toes.

They watched each breath through her cute, button nose.

They held her tiny hands 

They held her tiny feet

They listened intently for her precious heart beat.

They cried and they smiled.

They hugged and they kissed.

They cherished every moment of their sweet, baby bliss.

In memory of her uncle, Davy is for David.

A brother and a fighter who will always be remembered.

Karol is for Papaw and her Dad's Brother.

Two strong men who will love her forever.

Knit together by him to be loved by us.

Welcome to the world, lovely baby girl.

I am swooned.
~ao

~ Thanksgiving TRO ~

Welcome to the blog, Tatum Robert O'Bryan:

Today is Thanksgiving so I thought I should write about it. The first Thanksgiving was in 1621. The Thanksgiving feast was held to celebrate the harvest. The pilgrims and the Native Americans feasted together and ate lots of food like turkey and pumpkin pie. Yum! Today, we celebrate Thanksgiving to be thankful of all that we have. The pilgrims and Native Americans were thankful for the harvest and all the food before them. I am thankful for my family, Jesus, and God. My family has supported me my whole life from school to sports. Jesus because he died on the cross for everyone's sins. I wouldn't be alive today without Jesus dying on the cross. God because he created everything, and I love to be alive. As John 3:16 says, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." He sent his son, Jesus, to die on the cross for our sins. Have a happy Thanksgiving! 

Bye!
-TRO

~GATHER: A Hike for all Ages~

I put on my hiking boots and my new #SS15 tshirt.  I climb in the car with five of my favorites.  We are very different people.  We are quiet and reserved.  We are outspoken and opinionated.  We are tall, short, lean, curvy, blonde, brunette, and red-headed.

Our struggles are real and our accomplishments are great.  Our conversations range from divorce to mammograms to raising children and caring for our parents.

We represent a kaleidoscope of lives that could be featured in any modern women’s magazine. We are real live women doing our best to survive and build our lives.

This is our 15^th year.  It didn’t take us long after graduating from college to realize we NEEDED each other.  It was a small group at first, but each year it grew as we recognized the value in this time together.

So we gather. 

We gather to laugh.

We gather to rest.

We gather to reflect.

We gather to grow.

But most importantly, we gather to love. 

As I step out of the car, I know we are quite the sight.

Big sunglasses.

Matching tshirts.

Loud mouths.

We start our hike walking down a trail, talking a mile a minute.  We’re like a group of teenage girls that haven’t seen each other in ages.  We stop talking long enough to capture the most amazing view from our first overlook.  Instantly, we turn in to photographers and their subjects. 

“Look at that single red tree in the middle of all that green.”

“Don’t fall over the edge.”

“Did anyone bring water?”

“I need a picture with someone!”

We find a sweet couple to take a group shot and then pause again to admire the little red tree in the canyon.  We encounter our first story on that overlook.  Her name is Mary.  She’s a photographer and outdoor enthusiast.  She is impressed with our matching shirts.  After hearing our story, she tells us she graduated from college 40 years ago.  We leave Mary and wish her a wonderful day.  Our minds start imagining what our girls’ weekend will look like 25 years from now.  Hopefully, it looks an awful lot like Mary.

We start across the rim trail and pause briefly at the next overlook.  A sweet couple compliments our shirts.   We tell them our story and quickly find out they are celebrating their 25^th wedding anniversary.  We offer to take a picture to remember the moment.   I somehow imagine they don’t take pictures together often.  I also imagine a day they look back at that picture and remember their hike and their first 25 years together.

We continue down the trail.  Its quickly evident that every step we take down, we will have to take a step back up at some point.  We pass many “resters” along the way.   One resting couple inquires about our shirts.  We tell them our story and they declare they are “empty nesters”.  I imagine their thoughts as they heard our conversation coming down the trail.  I’m certain there is no judgment, just an awareness of our different places in life.

The trail widens as the sound of running water gets louder.  Its as if there is a magnetic force that stops our voices and opens our eyes.  Immediately, we each find our place. 

Some of us pray.

Some of us reflect.

Some of us write.

Each of us is in a totally different place while sitting at the same place.  It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes about relationships.

"The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart." ~Elisabeth Foley

Many people will hike the Rim Trail in 2014.  Each of them will have their own story, capturing their perfect images, while reflecting on their place in the world.

Its certain, on this beautiful October day, we know our place in the world.  At least at that exact moment.

And so we gather. 

Once a year. 

Always the same. 

Yet just a little different. 

We are broken.

And still, we are complete.

And so we gather.

Thank god we do.

~ao

Due to an abundance of doing "nothingness" (aka laziness), I have no other pictures from SS15.  Probably a good thing to spare you from pictures of almost middle-aged women in yoga pants.

~Dare to Daydream~

She takes my breath away.  There’s no other way to describe it.  I don’t render myself speechless often, but when it comes to her, she takes me to that place where words leave and the soul slows down. 

Big blue eyes.

Blonde whispy hair around her face.

Small dimples in the crease of her smile.

I think she goes there too.  I will catch a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror, gazing into nowhere while the wind blows through her hair.  She makes eye contact and gives me a sideways grin.  She knows that I am all too familiar with that place.

We hear too often how she’s my “mini-me”.  I’m sure in my younger day, it could be true.  While, I appreciate the compliment, I have to say, she’s so much more than I could have ever dreamed.

Thoughtful.

Strong.

Sensitive.

Her life lullaby, Daydream Believer, almost appears intentional, like a slow molding of her soul.  If only.  If only it were that easy.

“Cheer up, Lily Bean.

Oh, what can it mean.

To a daydream believer

And a homecoming queen.”

She came in to this world on her own terms, early and with little preparation.  She simply wasn’t going to wait around until everyone arrived, including the doctor.  Once she made her grand entrance, she barely let out a whimper and immediately found her self-soothers, her two middle fingers.

Our Lily girl, is a spirit all her own.  She is bold when she needs to be, and then in one swift move, she nestles into her calm place, like a comfortable blanket.

Tomorrow she celebrates her 9^th birthday, the last in single digits.  I know the next several years have the potential for an extreme amount of turmoil.  My prayers are simple.

May she know she is loved.

May her life shine bright.

May she never stop daydreaming.

Happy 9^th Birthday Bean!

~ao, aka Mama

~1994~

It was the year of the MLB Player Strike and Forrest Gump.  Millions also watched as police chased OJ Simpson in a white bronco.  I was twenty years old and settled in to my first off-campus apartment.  I was starting to gain momentum on my new life in Cleveland.

The call came on a normal October day that started with class and work.  As soon as I heard my mom’s voice, I knew something was wrong.  My childhood friend, Brad, had been killed in a tragic motorcycle accident. 

I met Brad in the 4^th Grade.  He was immature and completely ridiculous.  He was the kind of kid that would pick his nose and wipe it on you.  Fortunately for him, he had a charm that far exceeded his grossness and a smile that made you feel like the most important person in the room.  We became instant friends.

We spent our summers bike riding and playing tennis.  In the winter, we would play hockey and inevitably, he would make me goalie.  He said I was great in the goal because I had “good hands”, but I’m sure he just liked watching people shoot pucks across the ice and toward my face.

We had the kind of friendship that felt like family.  He protected me like a brother would and I nagged him with sisterly love.  His parents made me feel adored and like a part of their family.  Since he was an only child, I felt like the daughter they never had. 

His mom, Mary Ann, would sit at the table with me, drink tea, and tell me the most fascinating stories.  His dad would always greet me with that famous Anderson smile. He would walk in the room, wink, and call me “dollface”.  It was obvious where Brad got his charm.

We maneuvered our way through the awkward junior high years and our unique bond grew stronger.  He kept me honest in who I was and didn’t let me get too far from the younger version of myself.  There are not many memories from those years that don’t include Brad.  We were both quirky, fun-loving teenagers who connected in a way that was special.  And we both knew it.

I remember a day at the Prendergast’s Lake House.  We had spent the day on the water with all of our friends.  Brad walked down on the dock and pushed me in.  “Let’s take the paddle boat out.”  Thirty minutes later, we had paddled ourselves to the middle of the lake.  We jumped off the paddle boat and swam around in the deep waters of Seneca Lake. 

I will never forget the look on his face as it started pouring on us.  He smiled really big and said “Looks like we need to paddle faster.”  We paddled back to the closest shore and ran back to the lakehouse in the rain.  We laughed the entire way.

Brad was so many things to me.

Risk-taker.

Confidence builder.

Adventurer.

Loyal and true.

He was the obvious choice as my Homecoming Court Escort.  When I asked him, he smirked and said, “Well, of course.  Who else would you ask?”  He picked me up wearing a mauve sport coat and tan suede shoes.  We were both unusually nervous.  Two friends dressed to impress and making a date of it.  We were two kids playing grown-ups and it felt just plain weird.

One of my lifelong, favorite books is Bridge to Terabithia.  It is the beautiful story of two friends, Jesse and Leslie, who struggle with the everyday trials of adolescents.  They would swing across a creek to a make-believe land in the walls of a forest behind their house.  It was an escape from their regular lives.  Then one day, Leslie suddenly died in a tragic accident in the creek.

“She had tricked him. She had made him leave his old self behind and come into her world, and then before he was really at home in it but too late to go back, she had left him stranded there--like an astronaut wandering about on the moon. Alone.”

― Katherine Paterson

Stranded.

I spoke about that word at his funeral.  I fought back anger at the idea that he was gone.  I knew a part of my heart would be gone forever.

I think of him often and wonder what he would be like today.  I can see him, standing in front of his locker with his boombox blaring music between classes.  My heart aches to think of never seeing the twinkle in his eye or hearing the convincing way he laughed. 

It’s hard to believe he’s been gone for half my life.  While I was in NY last week, I reminisced with friends about our times with him.  His memory is never far from us.

Twenty years ago, on October 11, 1994, my life changed forever.  I learned the value of life, true friendship, and laughing in the rain.  I learned that life can change in the turn of a wheel and leave you staring at old photos and grasping for memories.

In our senior Last Will and Testament, he said he wanted to be remembered for "laughing all the way."  He is most certainly remembered for that and so much more.

In loving memory of George Bradley Anderson, IV

Forever in our hearts,

~ao

~Song Sung Blue~

It follows me.  It seems it has always been around no matter what stage in life I am in. 

I went to high school at Marcus Whitman.  The school colors were BLUE and gold.  As a junior in college, I joined a sorority, Sigma Nu Sigma.  Their colors were BLUE and white.  I became the softball coach at that same college.  They added BLUE as an accent to their maroon and white.  I married a die-hard Kentucky fan and became an involuntary member of the Big BLUE Nation.

I started my administrative career at Red Bank High School.  Their colors were not in the red family.  They were BLUE and white.  One would think I applied for the job at Cleveland because of their school colors ~ BLUE & white, with a little bit of red.

It’s a cheesy thread of my journey ~ a pride for all things BLUE.  It could be worse.  I could be forced to adorn yellow, orange or any other hue not in my color palette.  Fortunately for me, BLUE looks halfway decent on a person with my hair color and skin tone.  Because of this, my closet is overflowing with every shade of the color that falls somewhere between green and violet.

Google compares the color BLUE to “the sky or sea on a sunny day.”  If you ask me, it’s the perfect definition.  I tread lightly in this post to not come across as a “fanatic”, but the simple fact is, when it comes to the color BLUE, I’m in.  All in.

Neil Diamond says it best…

But when you take the BLUES

And make a song

You sing 'em out again

This weekend we cheered for the BLUE and white at two venues.  Friday nights feel like home to me.  

The band plays.

The cheerleaders cheer.

The fans sing the alma mater.

And while all these things are awesome, I sit back and revel in the idea that we all belong to something bigger ~ a tradition that has cheered for the mighty BLUE Raiders for fifty years strong.  While I am not from here, I, too, feel the pride that surrounds every Friday night when the BLUE Raiders take the field.  Even more so, I have a heart swell as I watch my husband and two kids cheer from the sidelines.  It’s more than just a football game.  It’s a community brand that has been tested and cherished. 

I wake up on Saturday morning and drive 3.5 hours north to Lexington, KY to experience another version of pride for the BLUE and white.  I, again, watch my husband and kids as they celebrate with the Big BLUE Nation and cheer their UK Wildcats to a victory.

Tailgates.

Cats Walk.

Shiny, Silver Helmets.

We stormed the field for a second time in 24 hours.  My kids jumped up and down meeting players and mascots.  My husband flashed his prideful grin. 

There are no words to describe a sense of belonging.  I am lucky to experience school spirit at its finest.  In a world that says our children are lost on the traditions of our past, I know differently.  Each Friday night, after the third quarter, I beam with pride as our student section sings the alma mater.

We lift our hearts in song and praise

For our school, Cleveland High.

In love and gratitude we’ll sing

As days and years go by.

We love the white and BLUE,

We will be loyal, true.

So Alma Mater, here’s to you

Our own school, Cleveland High.

This week our school is on Fall Break.  Many will take vacations.  Others will work.  But on Friday night, there will be no other plans. 

The fans will show up.

The bleachers will fill up.

The players will gear up.

It’s just a game.  That’s how some define it.  But to me, its an opportunity to show pride.  Every pom-pom, instrument, and jersey signifies a love for something that reaches beyond the color BLUE. 

History.

Tradition.

Legacy.

And hopefully, a win!

GO BIG BLUE!

~ao