Whimsical Wednesday: Pass the Pigs

Reflecting on yesterday’s post about Cracker Barrel and the misleading nature of nostalgia, I stumbled upon an old game this evening – a game that I’d rescued from my mother’s house less than a year before Hurricane Katrina slurped all the rest of our board games and jigsaw puzzles under eight feet of water. It’s called Pass the Pigs – and if you’ve never heard of it, you’re in for a treat. It was, in fact, one of my favorite games as a kid, and my mother, an avid swine lover, was equally fond of Pass the Pigs.

The particular version that I own is, big surprise, intended for travelers. Contained within a sleek black case (embossed with two pig shapes at the top) are two small plastic pigs, two golf-style pencils, and a tiny score pad. The object of the game is simple: to be the first player to reach 100 points, which you earn by rolling the two pigs simultaneously (like dice) on a smooth surface. How the pigs land is what determines your score – the more difficult the position, the higher the score.

This is where the game gets really hilarious. If the pigs land on opposite sides (with one pig lying on its right side, and the other lying on its left side), this is called a Pig Out – you get zero points and lose your turn. Common positions include the Sider (one point for both pigs lying on the same side), the Trotter (five points if a pig lands on all four feet, twenty points if both pigs land that way), and the Razorback (five points if a pig lands on its back, twenty points if both pigs land that way).

The toughest positions are the Snouter (ten points if a pig lands on its snout and two front feet, forty points if both pigs land that way) and the Leaning Jowler (fifteen points if a pig lands on an ear, its snout, and a front foot, sixty points if both pigs land that way). Of course, most of the time, the pigs will land in different positions, which is called a Mixed Combo. Pray to the Piggy God that you don’t roll an Oinker – where the pigs are touching when they land – a position that will end your turn and zap all of your accumulated points. The worst roll that can happen, though, is a Piggyback – whereby one pig ends up standing on top of the other one – “an unnatural pig position,” according to the instructions, resulting in an instant boot from the game.

Not comical enough for you? Well, in Pass the Pigs, the scorekeeper is called the swineherd and the players can opt for another version of the game, Hog Call – whereby players must predict the position in which the pigs will land. Take my word for it – this game is a family-friendly laugh riot, and even though I miss all the games, puzzles, stuffed animals, trophies, photographs, and other childhood memorabilia that I lost in Katrina, I thank my lucky stars that smile-inducing things like Pass the Pigs were spared from Mother Nature’s wrath. 'Cause, unlike Cracker Barrel, this game is still just as awesome as ever - I even plan to challenge my husband to a round tomorrow night. I'll let you know which pig-tosser prevails.

Monday Munchies: American Spoon Foods

Today was Mom’s last full day in northern Michigan, and I wanted her to experience something that she wouldn’t find back in Louisiana. So, after much deliberation about places like Traverse City and Hartwick Pines State Park, Dan and I finally settled on taking her to Petoskey – a posh Michigan resort town alongside Little Traverse Bay. A favorite among tourists and Michiganders alike, Petoskey is about an hour’s drive from where we live, and Dan and I have been there many times.

So, Mom was excited about today's trip to this wonderful little town. The three of us arrived in the afternoon, and despite the overcast sky, we relished strolling amid the quaint shops of the Gaslight District, gazing at the sailboats in Bayfront Park Marina, touring the historic homes of nearby Bay View, and checking out the mushroom-shaped Odawa Casino. After shopping for jewelry fashioned from Petoskey stones (Michigan’s state stone, a lovely grayish-brown fossilized coral with a distinct honeycombed pattern), we headed up Lake Street in downtown Petoskey for a late lunch at the American Spoon Café (413 E. Lake St.).

Founded in 1982, American Spoon Foods has earned acclaim for its locally made fruit preserves, salsas, relishes, grilling sauces, and other condiments. Today, American Spoon has six stores in northern Michigan, plus the café and gelateria, which opened beside the original store in 2001. Open daily, the American Spoon Café is a delightful eatery that features some of northern Michigan’s finest local ingredients as well as American Spoon’s most popular products. Dan and I had eaten there before – and though the service had always been slow, we hoped that Mom would like the food as much as we did.

The menu had changed since our last visit, but our meal was nonetheless delicious. Mom ordered a blue cheese buffalo burger, Dan had a smoked turkey panini, and I tried something a little different. Besides some refreshing tart cherry lemonade and a cup of tomato-parmesan bisque – both of which I’d previously sampled – I ordered a grilled cheese duo, which included a sourdough sandwich with smoked mozzarella, red onion, and American Spoon Red Pepper Relish, plus an amazing bruschetta with blue cheese and American Spoon Apple & Onion Jam. Normally, I don’t like mixing sweet and salty ingredients, but I’m glad I took a chance on this dish - truly a winning combination.

Although we passed on gelato, plenty of families were crowded around the glass display case, choosing from two dozen awesome flavors – some of which Dan and I had tried before. After the scrumptious meal, we headed next door to the American Spoon store, where we taste-tested all manner of condiments, from Black & Blue-Berry Spoon Fruit to Ginger Plum Grilling Sauce. Everything we sampled – including their new apricot and cherry jammys – was fabulous.

So, if you ever find yourself in Petoskey, Michigan, I highly recommend stopping by American Spoon. You can’t go wrong with yummy treats made from locally grown produce. And, no, American Spoon is not paying me to say this! Though if they were willing, I’d settle for a lifetime supply of their products. That’s fair, right?

Petoskey on Dwellable

Weekend Mishmash: Mom, Meet Michigan

This has certainly been a weekend of firsts: Mom’s first visit to my summer habitat in northern Michigan; my first live radio interview; my first book signing; the first time an artist has rendered my likeness with watercolors; and the first time I’ve ever met someone who recognized my voice from the radio.

So, all in all, it’s been a terrific weekend – and Mom’s first trip to Michigan has been interesting, to say the least. After picking her up from Bishop International Airport in Flint (once home to filmmaker Michael Moore) on Thursday afternoon, Dan and I drove her three hours north to Gaylord, a town that we regularly visit during the summer months for movie showings, grocery shopping, and other errands. My mom appreciated the distinct Alpine vibe of downtown Gaylord, where even the Glen’s supermarket has a Bavarian façade and a working glockenspiel.

Following the grocery trip, we headed to our house in the woods near Lewiston, a quiet, flyspeck village that was once the heart of a thriving logging industry. Upon seeing our house, nestled amid the trees that surround Big Bear Lake, Mom knew exactly why we love it here. I gave her a quick tour of the grounds, including the dock where we fish for bass and the hammock where I’ve spent many a pleasant afternoon, then we headed inside for a quiet evening at home.

On Friday morning, I rose early and tried to steel myself for my first on-air radio interview. While Dan and my mom walked to the “big house” (my in-laws’ adjacent three-story home) to listen to my interview, I called the radio station, Eagle 101.5 FM in Gaylord; told the morning disc jockey, Mike Reling, that I was a virgin interviewee; and proceeded to share my passion for Michigan with his listeners. Despite my nervousness, the interview went well enough that Mike asked me to be a regular guest on his morning show. Feeling triumphant (and aglow with my family’s warm congratulations), I took Mom on a blueberry-picking trip in the nearby woods, and though our yield was small, we enjoyed being outdoors together.

When we returned, I discovered that Mike Reling had sent my morning interview via email. Dan and I listened to it together, and I was delighted to learn that I didn’t sound half-bad. In fact, I seemed upbeat, energetic, and knowledgeable – and better yet, I didn’t embarrass myself on air. Yahoo!

Now that the most anticipated part of my day had passed, I was eager for a work-free evening. So, following a 2.5-mile “power” walk with Mom, we relaxed in the hot tub for a while, enjoyed Dan’s scrumptious dinner of mesquite steak, grilled zucchini, and buttery sweet potatoes, and played a rousing round of Rummy before retiring for the night.

By Saturday morning, however, the nerves were back. My first book signing was just a few hours away, and although my interview had gone well, I was panicky that I’d become a babbling idiot at Saturn Booksellers. While I got dressed and gathered my notes (yes, the lifelong nerd had prepared notes), Dan packed up our digital camera, a few pens, a map of Michigan, some promotional postcards about my novel, and several extra Moon Michigan travel guides (just in case the store ran out of its supply – as if!). Then, Dan, Mom, and I were off to Gaylord.

As it turned out, I had little to worry about. Karin, the store manager, and the other employees (Darcy and Emily especially) were gracious and helpful, and the signing itself went quite smoothly. I signed several travel guides, met some wonderful locals (like the store manager’s mom, the owner’s husband, and a Lewiston resident named Becky Johnson), saw some old friends (even email pals like Elizabeth and Christine, whom I’d never met in person before), and got a chance to promote not just Michigan, but my unpublished novel, too. Boy, do I love the easygoing atmosphere of an independent bookstore!

The two-hour book signing flew by, and afterward, a strange thing happened. A local artist came into the store and asked me if I would sit for a watercolor portrait. Since I’d never heard that request before, I agreed. While she worked on the painting, I autographed the remaining guides (so much for my stash in the van!), signed my event poster, and talked to some last-minute shoppers. When the artist was done, I thanked Karin and the other staff members, and then Mom, Dan, and I headed to lunch and a movie.

Today, an even stranger thing occurred. After breakfast and a morning walk, Mom and I accompanied my mother-in-law, Dee, on a short drive to Lewiston, where we perused the few gifts shops that were open on a Sunday. While there, we stopped in a store called My Sister’s Stone Cottage – the owner of which (a pleasant woman named Flo Bates) recognized me from my brief radio interview on Friday morning and proceeded to purchase six of my travel guides to sell in her store. That might not sound like a big deal, but I was pretty excited nonetheless. Although I might be a long way from becoming a best-selling novelist, I hope that I’ll never forget what it feels like to experience such validation for the first time.

I hope, too, that I never forget how precious the little moments are... like taking a boat ride around Big Bear Lake with my mom for the first time, having a yummy dinner at a local joint like Paul’s Pub, and making s’mores in front of a beautiful campfire on a cool summer’s night. Yep – it’s the little moments that matter most – at least that’s what Mom says.

Thoughtful Thursday: Doing the Dishes

Right now, my mom’s flying from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Flint, Michigan, to visit me and the hubby in what she likes to call our “natural habitat.” For several summers, Dan and I have been staying in the idyllic woods beside Big Bear Lake in the northeastern portion of Michigan’s lower “Mitten,” and no one in my Southern family has yet to see this rejuvenating place. This afternoon, after Dan and I scoop up my mom at the Bishop International Airport, all that will change... and two of my worlds will finally meet.

I’m excited, of course, but I’m also nervous about Mom’s reaction. Will she like it up here? Will she understand why we love the trees, the air, the lake so much? Why we value our summers in the isolated wilds of northern Michigan? Probably. Though she’s lived in a city all her life, my mother has always been a forest lover at heart.

So, the real question is... will the house be tidy enough for her? Now, as I recall, Mom and I were never the best of housekeepers. We lived together – us two girls – for fifteen years, from the time I was almost three (when my parents separated) to the year I was turning eighteen and headed off to college. In that time, we certainly did our share of vacuuming, dusting, laundry, and the like – but we weren’t exactly clean freaks.

Like many people, I suppose, we saved the extra-special cleaning frenzies for certain occasions, such as parties and family visits - which is why I, a world-class procrastinator, still have some cleaning to do before we head south to Flint in a few hours. The funny thing, though, is that I don’t mind such menial chores. As a teenager, I wasn’t overjoyed about interrupting my homework (yes, I was indeed a nerd) to clean the dishes or fold the clothes, but nowadays, I welcome such tasks.

Perhaps that sounds insane, but I find such chores meditative – especially the rhythmic, mind-numbing act of scrubbing dishes in steaming-hot water (while using my "mad scientist" gloves, of course). I even have a routine, whereby I scrub the plates, bowls, silverware, and other items in groups of ten, then rinse them and set them in the dish-drying rack, before scrubbing the next ten items. As I admitted yesterday, I have a touch of OCD, which might explain the need to count the dishes in my head. But, regardless of my crazy inner workings, I find such a focused act like “doing the dishes” exceedingly therapeutic.

I have two theories as to why: First, it uses a completely different part of my brain than my normal work does (such as promoting my travel guide, editing my novel, writing blog posts, or commenting on others’ blogs), and second, completing the dishes gives me a sense of satisfaction and a dose of self-confidence. After all, no matter what I manage to get done on the computer, I can go to bed at night knowing that I’ve accomplished at least one task during the day. And sometimes, that’s enough.

Speaking of the dishes, I’d better head downstairs. I have a stack of dirty plates (from last night’s dinner with friends) that’s just calling my name.

Whimsical Wednesday: Jigsaw Puzzles

Ever since I was a child, growing up in New Orleans, I’ve been cuckoo for jigsaw puzzles. As with many of my longtime interests, I have Mom to thank for my puzzle obsession. Over the years, we worked on a variety of puzzles together – from a silly 1000-piece map of the United States, with crazy little characters that kept us giggling all week, to a 550-piece snapshot of chocolate slabs that made us both ravenous every time we assembled it.

No matter where we were living at the time – the house in New Orleans East, the place north of Lake Pontchartrain, the last one in Lakeview – there was always a stack of puzzles in my mother’s closet. When I visited her in the fall of 2004, I rescued my favorite one from the stack – a vibrant drawing of a unicorn in a meadow. Thank Serendipity that I did, for less than a year later, Hurricane Katrina broke the levee between Metairie and Lakeview, and submerged nearly all of my mother’s belongings, including our beloved puzzles. When I finally saw the house again – several months after Katrina had uprooted my mother and forced her to relocate to Baton Rouge – all that was left of our puzzles were a few scattered pieces in the moldy carpet.

But I’ve never forgotten the joy that I felt working on puzzles with Mom – and the sense of accomplishment whenever we finished one. I’ll never forget, too, our ritual – we would work steadily until the very last piece, which we would insert into the puzzle together.

Today, I still work on puzzles – occasionally with my nieces, but more often by myself. I find them at once relaxing and challenging – so much so that I decided to mention them in my first novel, Hollow Souls. Of course, the novel is soon to undergo a major revision, so it’s possible that the puzzle scene will have to go. Whether it stays or not, though, I’d like to share it with you:

After a leisurely dinner with her friends, Caroline followed the Littletons up to the third level. Most Hollowites were so active during the week that they had to reserve specific nights for uninterrupted family time. For the Littletons, three hours every Sunday were theirs to spend however they wanted – no homework, chores, guard shifts, or other appointments – just board games, jigsaw puzzles, art projects, storytelling sessions, moonlit strolls, anything that allowed them to have fun together. Caroline was flattered to be included in such a precious family ritual.

By half-past seven, a dozen individuals sat on the floor of the Littletons’ cozy parlor, trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle that had only been completed once before – when it was first crafted. Earlier in the year, Mariah Singleton, a skilled portrait painter, had invited Anna and Agnes to pose for a joint picture. Two months later, in celebration of her lifelong friends’ thirty-seventh wedding anniversary, she’d created a life-sized depiction of them, portrayed from head to waist. Instead of handing over the painting, however, she’d sliced the thin wooden canvas into a thousand smaller pieces and stored them in a hand-carved box. Though grateful for the gift, the couple had yet to see the actual portrait, so tonight they’d convinced the family to help them complete the puzzle, which they planned to glue, frame, and hang on their bedroom wall.

For four hours, the family discussed everything from schoolwork to Christmas presents, while diligently laboring on different sections of the picture. Margaret, Julia, and Agnes toiled over the rose-colored background while the children struggled with the women’s faces. Although the subjects of the painting were in their very midst, all of them, including Anna and Agnes, found it challenging to complete the puzzle without a comparison image. Eventually, they were compelled to raid their closets for the outfits worn during their studio sitting. With the clothes draped across the sofa, the image emerged more quickly, though it still proved a difficult project for the men, whose patience wore thin after the first hour.

Nevertheless, the family persevered. Caroline proved especially dexterous; she’d assembled many puzzles in her room back in Lexington. Ignoring the children’s normal bedtime, the family managed to achieve their goal, and Caroline was given the honor of securing the last piece – a smidgen of Anna’s brown eye.

When the image was again whole, the family surveyed Mariah’s handiwork. Against the rosy drapery that the artist had hung in the background, Anna and Agnes posed in a comfortable, smiling embrace. Wearing a maize-hued corduroy dress, with her thick black hair pulled into a single braid, Anna stood behind Agnes, her arms encircling her companion’s waist, her brown-skinned fingers interlaced with her partner’s pale, slender hands. Agnes’ curly, grayish-blonde hair was cropped in a customary bob, and her cotton blouse was the shade of sea green. Well into middle age, the women seemed younger in Mariah’s rendition, perhaps because, after nearly four decades, theirs was an embrace of two women still in love.

“I like it,” Jesse said. “You both look really happy. Younger, too.”

“Yeah,” Caroline agreed. “And the colors are all so pretty.”

“You should definitely get it framed,” Joshua added. “Me and Dad could do it for you.”

Anna squeezed her partner’s hand. “I think the kids are right.”

Agnes smiled. “Think it does us justice?”

Margaret laughed. “Ladies, if an artist manages to capture your unique styles, illustrate your love for each other, and make you look younger, the painting’s definitely a keeper.”

“Thanks, everyone, for helping us put it together,” Anna said as she lifted the board.

Agnes picked up the other end, and together they walked toward their bedroom door, balancing the puzzle between them. “Yeah, if we’d had to do it on our own, we wouldn’t have finished ‘til our fortieth anniversary. And we see these faces every day.”