I think this definitely qualifies: 
I’ve been dragging my feet on this post because I’m not very good at making decisions, except for things like would I rather have a hamburger or a hot dog at Five Guys for dinner tonight. Yes. Anyway, to get back to the point, in the past week, I’ve been honored with two awards, which, as you probably know by now, have requirements to be addressed. Lisa from Books in the Burbs gave me the Liebster Blog Award. Lisa is new to blogging, and she has a very interesting site with some good book reviews, always helpful when you’re wondering what to read next. I certainly appreciate this award, and now I need to pass it on to three to five other bloggers who have a following of less than 300 readers. I don’t know how to tell if someone gets fewer than 300 hits a day unless they have site stats, so I’m taking a guess here. This is where I get a knot in my stomach because I can’t stand choosing, there are so many blogs I love. So I’m just going to go with three or four that come quickly to mind:
1. Julie Moore On Life. I love what Julie has to say about herself on her sidebar. Her posts always make me feel good about myself and loved. Who wouldn’t want that! And now Julie has started another blog called Pics, Prayers and Pom Poms. Check it out.
2. Winsomebella. I have no idea if this blog has been around for ages and has a zillion followers or gets less than 300 hits a day, so I’m putting it in here just in case it meets the requirement of the Liebster Award and you haven’t found it yet. Winsomebella has gorgeous pictures, and her writing is like poetry. Deep, thoughtful posts that always leave me pensive.
3. Saturday Evening Porch. S.E.P. is a freelance writer and probably gets a lot of traffic, but she did have stats and I think her numbers should be higher. She is always entertaining, Fanny Flag-like in some of her humorous posts, and leaves her readers with something to think about or remember about their own lives.
So there you have it for the Liebster Award. Thanks, Lisa!
One of the reasons I accept the responsibility that comes with most of these awards is that it’s a good way for readers to discover blogs they might not know about. That’s how I found some that I love, besides looking at bloggers blogrolls, which reminds me that I need to update mine because there are so many I need to add. I will address my other award another day. Sure wish I knew how to put those award logos on my sidebar. Where is My Pajama Days when I need her?
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m coveting. My little neighborhood has a civic league which awards the honor of “Best Yard of the Month” to a deserving home. That yard even gets a sign that proclaims the award to anyone passing by, including those of us losers who have a mediocre front yard. The people who get this award have worked hard on planning and planting and deserve the recognition. Our little courtyard in back is quite nice, especially in the spring and early summer when the roses and lilies are in bloom, and the Carolina jasmine is flowering, but, admittedly, other than mowing my postage-stamp-sized yard, I haven’t done anything in the front to deserve notice.
I decided to do something about this recently. A couple of weeks ago, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law from Florida visited, and we took them to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens 
where I was able to get some ideas to make my yard look good enough to get that sign. It took some work, but I wanted to show you the before and after pictures and get your opinion.
Here is what the front of our house used to look like:
The Before
Here is the after picture:
This is me, admiring my handiwork.
That sign is about to be mine! Are you buying any of this?
I thought it might be appropriate, the first day after my one-year anniversary, to replay my very first post. I went back to see how many people had actually read it, and the number was a whopping seven. Since then it’s been read only fourteen times more, so I think it’s safe to say, most of you have never read it. It tells you why my blog title is so right for me. Here is the link for Coming East–Coming Home.
Today is the one year anniversary of my blog. When I mentioned that to my husband, one of my biggest fans, he said it couldn’t be a year already. I feel the same way. Where did the time go?
I don’t know what I expected when I began this blog. All I know is that my daughter (My Pajama Days) started a blog about six months before me, and she was having a great time with it. I wanted a piece of the action, so on one of her visits, she helped me get set up, and my blogging life began. I said I would continue as long as I was having fun. Since that’s still the case, I’m shooting for another year.
I think it is high time you got to know me by my real name, Susan Okaty. 
When I get a chance, I will redo the “About Me” and put that in there. It was my sweet husband who came up with the name of this blog. I had been wracking my brain trying to think of a title. One night, when I was nearly asleep, my husband suddenly sat up in bed and said, “I have the title for your blog!” And he did.
What have I enjoyed about blogging? First, it’s made me a better writer because it’s forced me to write nearly every day. It’s made me more observant, for a writer needs to pay attention to what’s going on around her so as not to miss subjects worthy of writing about. Best of all, blogging has connected me with people from many different states and from all over the world—the Philippines, Wales, Canada, and New Zealand, to name a few. I’ve made friends with so many incredible people, read fabulous writing from other bloggers, learned new things, stretched my mind.
What don’t I like about blogging? I will never meet any of these people I care about. They’ve invited me into their lives, shared their families and dreams, joys and heartbreaks with me, and I can’t even sit down with them over a good cup of Earl Grey and cookies. As my students would so eloquently say to me, “That just sucks, Mrs. O.”
The second thing is that blogging is addictive. To do it well, you have to write regularly and post at least once a week, though every couple of days would be ideal, and you have to read, read, read other blogs. I love reading people’s blogs, but all this reading and writing is time consuming, and I’m neglecting other writing, playing my instruments, cleaning the house (okay, this doesn’t bother me so much), and getting outside. I need to find a balance. So, if you see that I begin slacking off the blogging a little, please forgive me. There’s an ocean down the street and I’d really like to see it before the leaves start falling.
Finally, I had hoped that blogging would lead to a lucrative writing career, but as I seldom get more than 100 or so hits a day and none of them seems to have been an agent, I’ve developed a plan. If you like my blog, every time you read it, please put a penny in a little jar marked “Coming East’s Writing Fund.” At the end of each month, you can send me the money (I think it would be tax deductible if you declare me a charity case–that’s charity case, not basket case) via PayPal (I have no idea how that’s done, but I’m sure My Pajama Days can help me set that up.). If I write twenty posts a month, you’re only out 20 cents, and I think that’s a bargain. Of course, if you don’t like what I wrote, I suppose it would only be fair for you to take a penny out of the jar. Anyway, we can figure out the details later.
Seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you for sticking with me. I will try never to disappoint you. From time to time, when I feel I need to take a quick break, I just might rerun some of my earliest blogs since very few people read them in the beginning. If you were one of them, my apologies!
Not long ago, I read an article in the paper about a kudzu vine that had transformed a utility pole into a vision of Jesus on the cross.
Article from the Virginian-Pilot
The absurdity of seeing Christ in kudzu had me laughing. I never could understand how some people who say they have seen Christ’s image in a misshapen zucchini or the knots in a tree trunk, think God would choose to remind us of His existence in something as mundane as a potato chip, but these people will tell you that these odd sightings are messages from God.
I’m wondering what that message might be. God in the potato chip–the fragility of life? Zucchini God–Be good or I’ll squash you? (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) As for the kudzu, we southerners know about kudzu. If left alone, it will devour everything in its path. It’s been known to swallow an entire deserted cabin and pickup so thoroughly, you wouldn’t know they were there. So God’s message might be, “I’ve got you covered.”
I’ve been watching the news about the horrific situation in Somalia. Makes our country’s debt problems and the squabbling in Congress seem so petty. I look at the aid workers and what they’re doing to ease the suffering, and I point to them as messages from God. If we are created in the Divine Image, then I think we will find the divine in each other.
Image via Wikipedia
Yesterday I found out that Virginia Beach is finally going to get a Whole Foods Market. In fact, it will be built so close to my house, I will be able to walk to it. I was so excited, I could hardly breathe. Granted, it won’t open until 2013, but still, it’s great news.
Many of you must be shaking your heads because you either 1.) have no idea what Whole Foods is, or 2) know why it is sometimes called Whole Paycheck and could care less about it. As for me, having been a Texan for 29 years and frequenting the flagship store in Austin, I am mighty pleased. I have greatly missed it since we moved to Virginia three years ago.
When we first moved to San Antonio in 1980, I was dismayed to find out they didn’t sell Thomas’s English muffins. I grew up with them. I thought the whole world had them. How was I supposed to make my English muffin pizzas? A tortilla didn’t do the trick. I wrote to Thomas’s and begged them to sell their product in Texas. They sent me $10 worth of coupons. Hello? I CAN’T GET THEM HERE, I wanted to scream. Several years later Thomas’s muffins appeared on store shelves and my world was on a more even keel.
Since we moved to Virginia, we haven’t been able to get Mexican food or Tex-Mex food like we could in Texas. We’ve tried a ton of “authentic” Mexican restaurants, but none can hold a candle to the ones we were used to. Oh, to taste the Camarones Diablos at Polvo’s in Austin again or the arroz con calabacitas at La Fonda on Main. My taste buds are crying as I write this.
I’m shallow. I admit it. Whenever I think of the wonderful places we’ve lived, besides friends and scenery (yada, yada, yada), my mind focuses on the food there. I miss the hot lobster rolls at Lenny and Joe’s in Madison Connecticut and the cold ones at Barnacle Billy’s at Perkin’s Cove in Ogunquit, Maine. And how is it that no one seems to be able to make a Philly Cheesesteak like they do in Philadelphia? Don’t get me started on barbecue. This east coast Southern barbecue they call pulled pork just doesn’t cut it with me. Unless you take a whole BEEF brisket and smoke it all day until it falls apart, it ain’t barbecue. If you’re ever in a little town called St. Hedwig and eat at Texas Pride Barbecue, you’ll be an instant convert. Oh, and bring your cowboy boots ’cause you’ll want to kick up your heels on the dance floor.
Grocery stores are also subject to my food fantasies. No where have I lived or probably will ever live has there been a grocery store as fabulous as HEB’s Central Market. It started in Austin and is now in many locations in Texas. My brother-in-law was so impressed with the produce that he tried to take pictures of it until one of the store managers came running and told him no pictures were allowed. Guess he thought he was a spy for…what…Krogers? I’ll bet they’re in the midst of their Hatch Chile Festival now, and I’m missing it.
Anyway, I just felt I needed to explain why I was so excited about Whole Foods coming to town. I’m getting a little bit of Texas back. Now, if we could only get a Taco Cabana here, I think I would faint dead away!
Last night my husband and I were watching Antique Road Show on Public Television, and we were amazed at how much money people’s old things were appraised at. A man who bought some posters of railroads for a dollar could turn around and sell them for a thousand dollars apiece, and he had twenty-four of them! Another man had an old, nearly life-size Chinese pottery statue, chipped and faded. Rather ugly, if you ask me. It wasn’t even particularly old, maybe dating back to the twenties. We were sure that the appraiser was going to tell the man that what he had was a piece of crap, but lo and behold, he told the man that he could get upwards of $40,000 for it at auction.
That leads me to wonder what we might have hanging around the house that could bring us some money in these hard economic times. I’ve been puttering around looking for treasures all morning, and I think I’ve come up with some good ones. I’m just going to put them out there and let you, dear reader, be the appraiser.
First, I have a 40-year-old G.E. percolator. 
This predates the grind and brew drip systems and the coffee makers that use a little pod for each cup. It has been making great coffee for 40 years, outlasting five drip machines. No stainless steel carafe is needed because it is stainless steel. Though it is definitely a great find, it is not nearly as valuable as my yellow enamelware stove-top percolator would be if I still had it. For the edification of you youngsters, we actually used to make our coffee on top of a fire to rave reviews. Electricity hadn’t been invented yet.
Second, my dishwasher. Looks like heck, but it still runs, so I can’t justify getting a new one. We had thought about getting one of those new ones that can be running while you stand right next to it, and you wouldn’t even know it. This conversation we had last night when we went upstairs to bed changed my mind:
Me: Did I start the dishwasher? 
Husband: I don’t know. I saw you put detergent in it.
Me: Yeah, but did I actually start it?
Husband: I think so, but why don’t you check.
I go to the top of the stairs, and sure enough, I hear it loud and clear.
Me: Yep, I started it.
Husband: Good thing we don’t have one of those quiet ones because you’d have to go all the way downstairs to check.
Third, my grandmother’s liver bowl and chopping blade. 
She made the best chopped chicken liver and taught me how to make it. This is the bowl and blade she made it with, and I claimed it when she died. After all, I am the only one left who knows the recipe. Unfortunately, now that we know about such things as high cholesterol, liver is a no-no, and schmaltz (rendered chicken fat) is definitely taboo. I haven’t used this bowl for many years now. What I wouldn’t give for a chopped chicken liver sandwich on rye with a big slice of red onion. Anyway, the bowl and blade are ancient, so what do you think I could get at auction for them? The liver smell is completely gone. I swear.
What treasures are hiding in your home?
The other day I went to First Landing Beach on the Chesapeake Bay near my house. Stretched out half the length of a football field was a fishing net on the edge of the water. I plunked my beach chair a few yards away and watched a fisherman painstakingly mend every hole in the net. 
His friend kept trying to convince him that they should cut it off and bind one edge. “It’s trashed from here down to the end. It’s not worth the time to fix it.” The mender replied, “It’s a good, strong net. I can repair it,” and diligently went on with his work.
That scene made me think back to a time when we were a young family with just two kids. We had no money and lived paycheck to paycheck in a drafty old farmhouse in rural Connecticut. We belonged to a natural food coop, taking our turn sorting and packaging everyone’s order when the bulk food came in. I made all our own bread, even grinding the wheat berries into flour in my Vitamix, and the kids wore many hand-me-downs from their cousins. My husband was a police lieutenant at the time,
The only picture I have of my husband in his uniform.
and his uniform shirts were very expensive, so when he would wear out the collars, I would take them off, flip them, and sew them back on again. After all, the rest of the shirt was still good. I was like that fisherman, not willing to throw out something if it could be salvaged.
That was so many years ago, back in the ’70’s, and we’ve come a long way from that pinch-penny time. Yet I find myself reflecting on the words of that fisherman. I wonder how many of us, myself included, are too quick to pitch something just because we’re tired of it or it needs some mending. I think our country as a whole isn’t used to frugality, though many of us are having to learn to be that way. Maybe in this economy I need to return to some of my old habits and fix things if they’re broken, and find new uses for things before I go out and buy something I could do without. No, I’m not ever going to go back to flipping collars. I’m not that desperate. Yet. But that image of the fisherman gives me something to think about in these hard economic times.
At first, I thought I’d just post several pictures of me, but then I thought these pictures would be more interesting:
Shop In Colonial Williamsburg
Craftsman in Colonial Williamsburg making a scabbard
Look at the size of this old tree in Williamsburg!
Gnarled old tree trunk at Monticello
Coming East 