I've been lax...deal with it.

OK – so, I’ll admit – I’ve been very lax about updating the blog lately.  I have tons of pictures to share with you – including 1st day of school pictures.  (yes, I realize that school has been in session for 3 weeks, but I’ve had my mind elsewhere).  I also have pictures of an awesome cake that I made, and a wonderful girls night I had with a very dear friend.  But, I’ll get to them in due time.

I’ll leave you with a story –


Every summer from 1988 until 1992, I went to Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp.  And I spent 2 weeks (sometimes 4 weeks) there, playing the French Horn, making new friends and really enjoying myself.  But by the end of the session, I missed my family.  Even though Denise and I didn’t really get along until after I graduated from college, there were fleeting instances where I (as a 14-year old girl), missed my mom.  Now, for those of you who have never been to a fine arts camp, the whole gist is this:

1.       You arrive on day one, nervous as all get out.

2.       You audition, and are placed in a group which matches your abilities

3.       You spend 2 weeks practicing, playing, learning music theory, having sectionals, and practicing with a large group.

4.       At the end of two weeks, each band/orchestra has a 1-hour long concert for the parents, when they pick their kids up.

I looked forward to this last day the most…not because of the concert, but because of the lunch that Denise brought for me.  For the 5 sessions that I attended, she brought this every single time…and I love it.  Even my friends that I’d known for several years got used to her bringing this dish – and we started to share.

Fried Chicken and Rhubarb Pie.  - Simply the best. 

Now, we rarely, if EVER had fried chicken at home.  This was a treat….cold as it was….My parents would bring the chicken from KFC, in a bucket, and it was cold by the time they drove all the way to BLFAC.  And the rhubarb pie would be homemade, of course.  And we would sit, at a picnic bench in the woods, sometimes near the cabin, sometimes near the band shell to watch the other concerts…but we always had that same meal.  And it was a tradition.  A small, inconsequential tradition – but it means a lot to me, thinking back about it. 

Thinking back now, I wonder how many traditions we had…or still have?  What do I do that my son will still remember one day when he is older and looking back on his life?  What are the things that we are doing as a family that will be impressionable, and make the most memorable experience? Should I start new ones?  I suppose we have some…but are they enough? 


Do YOU have any traditions? 


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