It's the call no wife or mother wants to get. I was one of the lucky ones-the voice on the other end of the line belonged to my husband, not a police officer, doctor or nurse. Chad started out with "I'm OK." Clearly, that was not entirely true. When you're calling from the ER half drugged on Vicodan and waiting for the xray report, "OK" is a relative term. But a few words of explanation and we both knew just how lucky we were. The morning commute could have ended in unspeakable tragedy. Instead, time and a good surgeon will have him back to normal in several weeks.

I don't ride motorcycles. I have been a passenger on occasion, but all in all I leave that up to Chad, and his riding companions. He's a smart rider. Helmet, leather, gloves--all standard gear. On this particular morning he was on is way to work--not exactly a leisurely, picturesque journey across the countryside. Crossing over the Ohio River, limited shoulder room, rush-hour traffic, and suddenly the lead car slams the brakes and those following react in kind. Faced with the option of colliding with the car in front of him and taking a chance on his flying skills, or laying the bike down and hoping his landing was soft, he opted for the ground path. 50 feet of sliding later, when things stopped spinning, it was a good choice.

The Concours is scratched up but fixable. Helmets can be replaced, as can leather jackets. The knuckles of the gloves are pretty much gone, and he has one very odd burn on his right hand that seems to have been cauterized immediately by the heat of the friction. Bruises appear daily, and I have serious suspicions that the lump on his ribcage should not be there. Chad aches in muscles he didn't know he had. The fractured clavicle is the biggest hurdle, but an excellent orthopedic surgeon will address that on Monday, and therapy starts next week.

My mind frequently goes to what could have been. I try not to let it stay there. The what-ifs are too terrifying to dwell on. I am indebted to the Newport EMT's and police officers, and to the driver who stopped in time to avoid hitting a fallen biker, jumped out of his car and stayed on the scene. I extend sincere thanks to the St. Elizabeth Fort Thomas ED staff for their care and concern. We have been touched by so many people reaching out in kindness to help with whatever we may need.

Every day I thank God for having his hand on that motorcycle, for guiding Chad along that highway. I will forever be grateful that the voice on the other end of the phone belonged to the one person who holds my heart in his own, and on this day, by the grace of God, he could say "I'm OK."

Do you have your piece of Pink?

Today, it's about Longaberger. Specifically, Longaberger Horizon of Hope pottery; but it's about a lot more than that! Read on.

Did you know Longaberger Woven Traditions pottery is the most popular pottery in the U.S.? We're in more homes than any other brand. That could be because our quality is unsurpassed. Vitrified to be durable, it is oven, microwave, dishwasher and freezer safe. Restaurant quality, but beautifully crafted in colors and styles to complement any decor, you simply will not find a better pottery. It is practically non-stick, and beautiful enough to be your formal dinnerware. It's the only pottery you will ever need.

So what does pink have to do with anything? let me tell you a bit about our Horizon of Hope Campaign. Every year, Longaberger develops a special product line to support the American Cancer Society. Through the sale of these exclusive baskets, pottery and accent pieces, we have donated more than $14 Million dollars to the ACS!!! In doing so, we have reached millions and millions of women with the message of education, support, and HOPE! It's something that has been a source of pride for me as a Longaberger consultant. For every Horizon of Hope product sold, Longaberger makes a donation, and I am matching that donation dollar for dollar.

This year, my favorite Horizon of Hope piece is our 9x13 Baking dish. This gorgeous, functional, perfectly-sized baking dish is a great choice for everything from frozen desserts to baked lasagna. It will be the dish you turn to again and again. It's not likely to match the dishes in your kitchen, and that's the whole idea! When you see that dish, and it's delightful pink hue, I want it to serve as a reminder. It's a reminder from me, from a friend. Is it time to schedule your mammogram? Have you done your monthly breast exam? Is there someone you know going through treatments or battling illness who could use a quick note or call of support? Have you done something for YOURSELF lately--something to renew your spirit? This one dish, a simple 9x13 baking dish, is pink enough to catch the eye, trip a memory, and start something wonderful! It's the perfect gift for a daughter going off on her own, for a new bride, a sister, a mom, a friend, wrapped with love in a message of HOPE!

So, where's your piece of pink?

www.longaberger.com/eliseseibt

Birthday Cakes and Teenagers

My baby boy turned 13 yesterday. That's rather humbling. I don't think of Will as a teenager yet. He has spent his first 13 years clinging precariously to the very bottom line of the growth charts. I do not expect Basketball to be his ticket to a college education. But sit and talk to him a while, and underneath that cute, freckled, mildly hyper exterior you'll find a delightful old soul. He honors the talents God has given him, even if it takes him out of the mainstream. He's quirky. He's funny. He's sensitive.

Will marches to the beat of his own drummer. In fact, I think Will stays up nights figuring out new percussion lines to life. Sometimes his rhythm line is too loud, rather overpowering everything else. Sometimes it is way too fast for me to keep up. But always, it is an original composition. You could say he is my favorite--about 25% of the time. I try to be an equal opportunity favor-er.

Birthdays for teenagers no longer mean trips to Totter's Otterville or party hats or treat bags. Preferences move to laser tag, or bowling, or music in the garage and a group of kids just hanging out and eating everything in sight. No longer do I need to drag out the decorating colors to frost up Mickey Mouse or a favorite super hero. I'm not sure I miss those days, and yet I can't bring myself to part with the Wilton Pans depicting Winnie the Pooh or the Tazmanian Devil. This year, he honored his dad and chose the Summertime favorite: Texas Sheet Cake.

I have no idea if this cake truly originated in Texas. Wherever it came from--GENIUS! My sister-in-law makes the best I have ever had, so I'll share her recipe. Basically a large brownie with killer icing, nuts optional, it is one giant artery clogging insulin rush of chocolate deliciousness. And for those folks who aren't chocolate lovers (pour lost souls--you know who you are), I'll share the white version as well.

Happy Birthday, young man. In case I don't remember to tell you every single day of your life, you are a special kid, and I love you!!!

Texas Sheet Cake
1 cup margarine or butter
1 cup water
5 tbsp cocoa
2 eggs
1 tsp vinegar
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
Melt butter in saucepan with water and cocoa. Bring to a boil, cool. Meanwhile, mix eggs, sugar, vinegar, buttermilk and vanilla untill blended and smooth. Add chocolate mixture, stirring until blended. stir together dry ingredients and add to mixture, blending well. Batter should be smooth. Bake in lightly greased cookie sheet at 400 for 20 minutes.
Frosting:
Bring 1/2 cup butter or margarine, 5 tbsp cocoa and 6 tbsp milk to a boil. While still warm, add 1 lb confectioners sugar, 1 tsp vanilla and 1/2 cup chopped walnuts (optional). stir well, pour over and spread onto cooled cake. frosting will harden as it cools. I tend to use a bit more conf. sugar.

White Texas Sheet Cake
1 cup margarine or butter
1 cup water
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tsp almond extract
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
Melt margarine in water, bring to boil. Remove from heat. beat eggs, sugar, sour cream and flavorings together. Add margarine/water mixture. Stir in dry ingredients. Bake at 375 in lightly greased cookie sheet 20-22 minutes. cool.
Frosting: bring 1/2 cup margarine and 1/4 cup milk to boil. Remove from heat. Stir in 1 lb powdered sugar, 1/2 tsp almond extract, 1 cup walnuts, pecans or peanuts, chopped (optional). Pour over and spread on cooled cake.

Chattin' about tattin'

Ponder the tattoo. Any tattoo. Comes in all shapes, sizes and colors. Lately, tats have been popping up in my peripheral life with some regularity, which has me debating myself with no clear winner.

Let me say off the top that I have no idea what my reaction will be if a dear one of mine comes home newly inked. I'd like to think I'd handle it with grace, acceptance, and calm. Yeah, right. But my questions is not so much 'How could you DO THAT?" Rather, I'm asking "Why?" Even putting aside the pain (and let's be straight--it hurts!), and ignoring the cost ($50-$75 an hours? Wow, I chose the wrong career), what makes a person decide to take the tattoo plunge?

Right now, my oldest speaks of permanently declaring her love for her adored summer camp on her ankle for all the world to see. OK, not my favorite idea, but it could be worse, right? A friend's college-age son came home with quite the artistic rendering on his calf, depicting his natural passion for snow-capped peaks. His consequences were pretty dire. My nephew recently made a lifetime witness of his belief in the Lord, right across his shoulder blades. Quite the piece of art. Is Philippians somehow more socially acceptable than Harley Davidson? One young acquaintance, in the interest of family peace, is saving to have her newly acquired brand removed. Heck, even my mother-in-law saw the need to have her eyelids tattooed with lifetime liner.

I've heard interviewers say tattoos can make or break a candidate's chances for employment, visible body art being a distraction in the workplace. Honestly, if your staff is that easily distracted, I'm thinking a bit of Ritalin in the water cooler might be in order. But I can also see where two candidates of equal, or perhaps not even equal, skills might be treated differently if one has an inky snake coiling up his neck. A friend pointed out to me that the very people getting the tattoos today will be the folks doing the hiring in15 years. Will it all even out?

Tattoos were once linked to bikers, sailors, fighters, guys who wanted to show they were tough, wild, outside the boundaries. In more recent years, tats have become a more mainstream expression of, what? Personality? Maybe. But that little butterfly on your breast which looks perfectly cute on a 36C, may lose some impact after gravity makes it a 42long. Later in life, will that permanent sentiment still hold the meaning for you that it did when it was applied? I'm all for showing creativity, but unless you wield the ink gun you are nothing more than a canvas for someone else's talent. Do people find them sexy? Endearing? Profound? I can't find any of those qualities in the Dale Earnhardt memorial I saw recently on a bicep in Louisville. In 60 years, will nursing homes be filled with Octogenarians displaying unidentifiable blobs of ink?

I come to no conclusion. I don't think I'll run out and celebrate my upcoming birthday by having a basket "tramp stamped" on my lower back. But hey, if that's what trips your trigger, who am I to judge? I can't even declare a winner in the tattoo debate when I'm my own opponent!

My not-so-empty nest

Several friends and relatives are packing up the last of their children and shipping them off to college this year. It is amazing the difference in approach from one to another. Some have been practicing for empty-nesting for so long that the departure of the last child is but a hiccup on the radar. Some are pragmatic--this is what we worked for for 18 years, and we've got to let them fly. Still others are devastated by the thought that their work as parents downshifts significantly, while their prayers multiply exponentially as they watch their child go off on a grand adventure. It's hard to relinquish control. It's hard to not have your finger on the pulse of your child's activities, not to share the daily laughter and head the crises off at the pass, not to be there until parental presence is requested. I did that a few years ago, some days more successfully than others. He's doing just fine without me. I will do it again next year, this time with a daughter. That will require a different set of skills than my son did, without a doubt. In fact, with two still in grade school, my empty nest sits on the far horizon. Tempus Fugit. My day will be here before I know it. And when it comes, I hope I have learned a thing or two from all the fine people who walk this path before me!

We are in the dreaded back-to-school holding pattern. This is when I get my grade school supply list out, and the ranting begins! Those of you who know me well may have heard this before--feel free to move on.
Small portions of virgin timber forests are felled every year just to meet the demand for an asinine amount of paper each of my students requires. Having to buy 4 three-subject notebooks and 3 additional one subject notebooks, plus binders, filler paper, folders. Really--how many subjects do we have? Why will one good organizer with appropriately supplied filler paper not suffice? Why must we force our children to juggle all this paraphernalia, when teaching them the valuable skill of organizing with minimal supplies would be so much more beneficial in life? Don't even get me started on buying paper towels, kleenex, ziploc bags and baby wipes. That's a whole 'nother day's boil-over. I finished my shopping today, and so I can reduce heat and simmer my incredulity until some kid comes home the first week of school with additional demands which didn't make the list. It's a never-ending process. I understand that my tuition and "yearly fees" do not cover most supplies, but I will forever believe that a reasonable review of the supply list would reveal some pretty gross excess.



OK--done for now. I feel better.