Me:  “Will it make me cry?  Am I going to hate it?  How hard is it to listen to?”

My Friend:  “Just listen to it.”

In other words, “It’s your history.  It’s real.  Step up.”

Step up I did.  I’m not sure how many people pulled up to me over the next few weeks, only to see tears rolling down my cheeks… but I didn’t care.  The book was indeed incredibly hard to listen to.  But now I feel every American should listen to it.

I am ashamed to say I never knew there were two flag raisings on Iwo Jima.  And that there was a cover-up regarding the names of one of the flag raisers.  And that the Pima Native American Ira Hayes walked and hitchhiked 1,300 miles to tell the Block family that their son was one of the flag raisers – something that had been covered up by the military.

So much history.

Today, I watched the movie.  It was extremely hard to view, as I expected.  But the hardest part was looking at the actual Iwo Jima photos shown during the credits.  This brings me to the pictures below.

These Japanese dog tags are in my friend’s possession.  As you see from the note, his grandfather found them on a beach in the Pacific after a World War II battle.  And my friend let me hold them.  HOLD THEM.  Actual Japanese dog tags from what I assume were fallen Japanese soldiers.

I am not writing with any political views.  I am sharing these pictures as a piece of significant world history.  Holding these dog tags took my breath away, for many many reasons.  The history of what I held in my hands was truly overwhelming, to say the least.

A very special thanks to my friend and BB, for letting me share these pictures.

If you know anyone who can translate these tags or tell more about them, can you please post below?  I am particularly interested in what the circle tag was used for.  The history of these pieces leaves me speechless.

Have you ever seen or held something from the past that caused this type of feeling in you?

First, find a rock.  One that will go in to a hole like this one.  You can find these holes on the back of most porta potties.

Now, sneak behind the porta potty while someone is doing his or her business.  Make sure you are holding your rock.  Reach up to the chimney and….

Do you know what happens when you are doing your business in a porta potty and someone throws a rock down the hole in the back of the very porta potty you are in?

You are very welcome for this information.  Now, go hike where there are porta potties.  And watch your back(side).  And never… EVER trust those you love.

Out of curiosity, we purposely hunted for another.  From there, we have discovered geocaching caches camouflaged as coral, trees, logs and even a spider.

I cannot tell you who said it.  But it was soon said.  “I know!  Let’s make our own geocache!”

With great excitement, my daughter and I obtained a waterproof ammo box.  An expert camouflage ninja showed us how to camo our geocache just right.

We thought out each bit of cache swag carefully.

Finally, the big day came.  Despite the rain… AND TEMPERATURES IN THE THIRTIES… we donned our cold weather layers, our hiking boots, packed our food and started our 45 minute drive to Lone Star Lakes in Suffolk.

We had to find the perfect spot.  Looking at our GPS, we discovered an area of forest that had somehow remained geocache free.  With camera and geocache in hand, we marched in.

It did not take long to realize why this space was available.  I will show you pictures within the next week or two.  I will just leave it at this for now:  Doll heads, dead deer and ancient trash.  More to follow.

Disappointed, we marched back out of the woods and took a break for lunch and reflection.  Where could we put it?  By then our feet were soaked, we were freezing and completely exhausted from cold weather hiking.

Then the idea came.  “I know where we can put it!”  We quickly piled in to the car.  I started the engine, pointed my car towards our destination and slowly began to drive.

That is when I heard it.

And felt it.

CRRRRUUUNNNNCHHHH… silence…   CRRRRUUUNNNNCHHHH.  Stop.  SILENCE.  PANIC.

“What did we drive over?  WHAT DID WE JUST DRIVE OVER?!”

“OH!”  “MOM!”  “THE GEOCACHE!”

Doors flew open.  People ran.  Then we stopped short.  In front of this:

I ran over the geocache.  I-RAN-OVER-THE-GEOCACHE!

I had no idea it was there!  I didn’t see it!  I DIDN’T KNOW!

But I ran over it.  With the front tire AND the back.  Geocache Fail.  Epic Geocache Fail.

It was at that moment that I began to laugh.  And laugh.  And wheeze.  And laugh.  And snort.  And wheeze some more.  As I told my daughter later, “If you don’t laugh at life, it will laugh at you.”

Seeing my daughter was about to break down, I made a split decision.  “We are going to hide it ANYWAY.  I will put it in a huge ziplock bag, we will hide it, log it and return later with a new ammo box.  Until then, finders will enjoy the first hand written page of the log.”

In the blink of an eye, we had gone from having a totally cool camo geocache to having the most hideous, glaringly un-camoed geocache ever created.

This weekend, things will change.  This weekend, we will be planting a duck.  A duck geocache, that is.  And she will be the coolest geocache camo job ever.  My daughter has already named her LoneStar.

Lonestar will never know the feel of my minivan’s tires.  Instead, she will remain in the woods guarding our geocache duck nest, greeting visitors and enjoying the great outdoors.  Besides, I can’t get my minivan through the woods.  Lucky LoneStar!

My boss brought a trash bag full of raw, dried peanuts to work.  “I know!  I’ll make homemade peanut butter!”  One googled recipe and 30 minutes later, I soon found myself with a baking pan full of homemade roasted peanuts.

Alton Brown’s homemade peanut butter recipe says preparation time is only five minutes.  Oh really?!

Once the peanuts were cooled, my son and I began to shell.  And shell.  And shell.  This is what the peanuts looked like after thirty minutes of shelling:

At this point, my son noted, “I feel like one of those ladies in the shelling factory on Willy Wonka!”  Indeed.  Shelling peanuts takes a lot of time and rips your skin apart.  And not ONE PEANUT SHELL contained a golden freaking ticket.

Forty five minutes later, we were done.  If I never see another peanut again I will be happy.

Would you believe all that work only produced this?!

When one begins a recipe, one should be sure one has all the ingredients on hand.  THIS one didn’t have peanut oil.  OR vegetable oil.  Frantically looking around the kitchen, I found a jar of hot pepper oil I made a month ago.  It could work, right?

Into the Ninja Master Prep went peanuts, honey and hot pepper oil.  Getting it all to blend took more than five minutes alone.  Once the peanut butter was done, I determined it needed more oil.  The texture was far more dry than creamy.  But did I want those extra calories?  Nahhh.  I chose to go dryer with less fat.

The taste test?  Freshly roasted peanuts.  Honey.  A touch of hot pepper oil.  It took FAR too much time.  It’s dry and I don’t want to fix it by adding more oil.  It only made a sandwich sized container of homemade peanut butter.  But…

IZZZZZ GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

Now.  About those boiling peanuts in the kitchen that I’m attempting to ignore.

This week my refrigerator runneth over.  Behold exhibit A.

I can’t tell you who put these skulls in my refrigerator or why.  But I can tell you where they ended up.  Outside for a photography session.  From there, they wound up on my entertainment center.

Exhibit B?  A deer leg recently slow cooked in the oven.  After I explained to my oldest that food should be wrapped, it soon became a barbecue dinner for him and his three friends.

Once the meal was complete, the leg bone became the focus of my dalmatian’s evening activities.

Deer meat is like crack for dogs.

Are you one of those people who has a neat and orderly refrigerator?  Or is yours willy-nilly like mine?  And even better, have you ever found something in your refrigerator that you could not explain?

Thirty-five million years ago, a two-mile-wide asteroid plummeted to the earth.  Its impact caused a series of tsunamis that carried the ocean’s water to inland areas that were once dry land.  After glacier and erosion activity over the years, the area returned to its previously dry state.

The marine animal life residue formed a substance called marl, a perfect ingredient for making cement.  In the early 20^th century, a company began digging this substance, thereby creating what is now known as the Lone Star Lakes.  Our favorite fishing spot, Crane Lake, is said to be named because the company left a crane in the bottom of the pit, now filled with water.

Today you can find fossils throughout the park, including giant Jefferson scallop shells, Virginia’s state fossil.  I cannot begin to explain the feeling of holding a three to eight million-year-old shell that has never been touched by human hands.

These lakes in Suffolk were all fresh water until Crane Lake was breeched by the James River.  This gives visitors a chance to fish both fresh and salt water in one beautiful park.

Saturday we spent the full day fishing, exploring and marveling at the wonder of this area.  We watched a bald eagle fly overhead and enjoyed gazing at flocks of cormorants and geese.  We fished.  We hiked.  We wondered at the beauty of the outdoors.

Never estimate the healing power of the outdoors.  NEVER.

Imagine pulling one of these things at a time out of a box.  Above?  Catnip, lemon balm and chamomile for infusions.  I also got two tea dippers, one for me and one for my daughter.  But even better?  A HAND WRITTEN page explaining each.  The catnip helps you fall asleep, the chamomile relaxes and calms the stomach while the lemon balm lifts your mood and keeps you alert.

Next came two aroma therapy bags as well as hops and mugwort.  Again, the handwritten note told me that the hops instantly relaxes while the mugwort will induce lucid dreams.  Putting both of these in a bag and placing the bag on your pillow will give you a naturally restful sleep!

Finally, SUSHI MAKING SUPPLIES!  A bag of konbu (I had to read up on that!), a rice paddle, seaweed, sushi molds and a “perfect roll” sushi maker, straight from Germany.  (Germany?)

Also included?  Another hand written page, front and back, with full sushi rice instructions.  ILLUSTRATION INCLUDED.  With today’s technology, I would have typed and printed it without a second thought.   How amazing to have hand written instructions made just for me.

Now that the new year is here, it’s back to both writing and visiting blogs.  I can’t wait to see what you have been up to!

What was your favorite Christmas or Hanukkah gift?  Who gave it to you and why did you love it?

I sometimes wonder who creates receipt abbreviations.  Imagine the power.  You have the license to be creative in a format that most won’t read.  The world is your abbreviated oyster.

The writer of this particular abbreviation now holds my utmost respect.  One can only guess what was happening the day this abbreviation was created.  And even better, one can only guess what this item actually is!

Other than fescue and worms, I am really not sure what it could be that hurts ass.

Honestly, internetz.  What in the world was this item?!

I’m not sure how we got back in to fishing.  It’s probably due to my older son’s love for the sport.  Towards the end of the summer, we began to surf fish in Corolla, and it has done nothing but escalate from there.

Would I begin a fishing spree in the spring though?  No, that is too easy.  Typical me, it all starts to happen as the temperatures begin to drop.  Of course in Virginia Beach, that means striper season.  But you can’t just waltz on to a pier and fish in jeans and a winter coat.  For winter pier fishing, you have to dress Rambo style.  Thank heavens I have had a good teacher.

Our first escapade on the pier was a night fishing adventure.  And as my luck goes, the evening we pick is freezing with wind gusts over 20 mph.  Imagine yourself at the end of a pier over the freezing ocean water, IN THE DARK, being blown about like an episode of Deadliest Catch.  Well, to be honest, scale that down a bit.  Now a little bit more.  There, you got it!

My outfit for the evening included the following:  Base layer. Cuddle Duds. Jeans.  Shirt.  Thermal shirt.  Another shirt.  Fleece.  Coveralls.  Winter Coat.  Ear protection.  Head protection.  Face protection.  Eye protection.  Four toastie toes, two in each boot.  Gloves.  And a bad ass attitude.  Cause you know what?  I was the only chick on the pier.  Spit and SCRATCH.

During the course of our fishing adventures, a man walked on the pier and announced to us, “You are either avid outdoor lovers or lunatics.”  My first thought was lunatic, by my son replied, “We are a little bit of both.”

Yesterday was our second adventure, immediately following a basketball game in which my ten-year-old daughter cheered.  Yes.  My daughter.  A cheerleader.  Who woulda thought.

After the game, she traded in her too cute cheer outfit for a very different uniform.  Only HER winter hat had ears.

My friend said, “By the end of the day she was not only going to catch her own fish, she was going to kill it and clean it.  My daughter’s reply?  “I will NOT do the killing.  That will put a stain on my soul.”  From my point of view?  Agreed.

Sadly, there was no striper to be had that day.  However, there were indeed plenty of sharks, a crab, a skate and a little catfish.

Smiling Before He Is Released

One of the sharks came home for dinner.  The shark we caught is actually called a spiny dog fish and is used in the popular fish and chip dishes.  It is mild, tender and very delicious.

The ten-year-old cheerleader who didn’t want to stain her soul?  She swiftly killed the shark, cut off the head, spines and fins, gutted and cleaned it.  That is far more than I ever want to do.

Indeed, yesterday there were TWO chicks on the pier.  And the smaller one of them totally rocked it.  That’s my GIRL.

For two weeks, I have seen this truck driving through our area.  But I’ve never been near enough to take a picture.  I see him ahead and he turns.  He closes in behind me and stops at a light.  Indeed, this mystery reindeer truck is harder to photograph than Big Foot!

Until yesterday.

Just as before, my daughter and I saw it ahead in traffic.  “Mom! Mom!  The Reindeer Truck!  Get your camera!”  However, by the time we neared the sighting area it was gone.  Then it happened.  My daughter turned her head and yelled, “THERE!”

Sure enough, the truck was right next to us in the left turn lane.  Just WAITING for a picture.  I reached for the camera.  I dropped it and it slid down the van.  I stretched and grabbed it.  Then I hit the wrong app.  No!  Not Words With Friends!  NOT NOW!

“MOM!  Hurry!  Hurry!”

And then I got it.  I got THE PICTURE.  I have the Reindeer Truck image captured for all eternity.  Little does the driver know just how much I have worked for this one very thing.

Now, I am waiting for the day he actually turns on the LIGHTS.  For that picture, I will CHASE HIM DOWN.