Frogmore Stew

To truly inhabit a new place, one must dine on the local fare.  Greg embraced this theory in South Carolina and immediately, set his crab pot in the water for a good three-day soak.  Each day, he would send Wyatt out to count the blue crabs and Wyatt would bring back a full report.

           “We’ve got four blue crabs, one stone crab and a croaker.” Greg released the stone crab, but placed the croaker in the bait trap.

           “We’ve got seven blue crabs, one stone crab and a hermit crab.”  Greg released the stone crab and I used the hermit crab for an ecosystems’ science lesson.

           On the third day, Wyatt ran in, out of breath, and announced, “We’ve got fourteen blue crabs, some kind of wiry crab and an octopus!” 

This was something new so we all took off for the pier.  Sure enough, our crab trap held a gooey, squishy eight-legged octopus.  Greg gently pulled it out and set it briefly on the pier for closer examination.  We all stared, speechless.  How could such an odd looking creature exist on our same planet? Its slick, burnt orange skin shimmered in the late afternoon sun.  It lifted one tentacle revealing tiny suckers on its underside. Placing the tentacle back on the pier it lurched forward, trying to escape.

Anabel looked worried. “We’re not eating this, are we?”

“Not today, but take a picture, quick, before I put it back in the water.  This is definitely going on Facebook!” said Greg.  He shoved his phone in her hand and she clicked a few shots as the octopus clamored for the pier’s edge.  Greg deftly lifted it up and tossed it back in the ocean.

“Have a good life, Mr. Octopus! Next time, stay away from our crabs or I won’t be so nice.”  He hummed Octopus’s Garden as he and Wyatt loaded the blue crabs into our bucket.  Greg was starting to let go of our old responsibilities and enjoy sabbatical life.  Holding Emma’s hand as we made our way back to the house, I watched Greg’s shoulders relax as he told Wyatt and Anabel the ingredients he’d picked up in town for Frogmore Stew, tonight’s special dinner. (Frogmore Stew was invented in the Frogmore Community on nearby Saint Helena Island by shrimper, Richard Gay of Gay Seafood Company, when he was throwing together found ingredients for fellow National Guardsmen in the 1960s.  Everyone liked it so much, he shared the recipe;  today, many consider it the unofficial dish of South Carolina.)

“You need: 2-3 heads of garlic, 2-3 onions, 2-3 lemons, a box of Old Bay seasoning and a packet of Zatarain’s Crab Boil.  You put all that in a big pot and set it to boiling.”

“When do you put in the sausage? That’s my favorite part,” asked Wyatt.

“Not yet.  Next, you add to the water: 3 pounds of small red potatoes. After about 20 minutes, you add 6 ears of corn- cut in half, a pound of Andouille sausage- cut in sections and as many blue crabs as you can catch. And last, you add the shrimp- 2-3 pounds depending on how many you're feeding.  Immediately, put the lid on and cut the heat off.”

“Do the shrimp cook that fast?” asked Anabel.

“Yep. As soon as they hit the hot water, they’ll start turning pink.  When they’re all pink, it’s time to eat.  Remember, the two things most people do wrong are they under season and overcook."

“I’m hungry,” said Emma.  “When’s dinner?”

            “You’re always hungry,” I said giving her a huge hug and adding, "Soon!"

*Always serve Frogmore Stew (also known as Low Country Boil) with crusty French bread, cocktail sauce-heavy on the horseradish, a nice bottle of white wine for the adults and sweet tea for the kids.

Leaving Home

When people hear our story, they often ask, "How could you rent your house out for a year?  How did you leave your personal belongings? What was it like to leave your home with strangers?"  Short answer: weird.

For the long answer, here's an excerpt from my memoir on our sabbatical year:

The walkthrough was surreal.  Sustaining on shots of 5 Hour Energy and espresso, this is all I remember:

     “Oh my god, they’re here!  Emma, shove this in the sideboard! Wyatt, run this down the stairs!  Anabel, hide this under your bed!  Greg!  Where are you?”

     “I’m hiding more toys in the attic!  It’s five hundred degrees up here and I can’t find my way out…” Loud bangs and cussing came from above. 

Wyatt returned from the basement.  “Go help your dad get out of the attic before he falls through the ceiling!”

The doorbell rang.  Wiping sweat from my eyes, I answered the door with a smile on my face.  “Welcome to our home… your new home now, I guess.” 

This was the weird part.  In our home were our collections, items I had handmade, antiques from both sides of the family.  Walking through it with a complete stranger, and a foreigner no less, I wanted to stop all I had started.  How can I leave my grandmother’s chifferobe and Greg’s grandmother’s pie safe with people we don’t know?  How can I just throw the kids’ baby pictures in the basement and walk away?

Glancing at my wedding china still displayed in the dining room, I spread my arms wide and began showing Aapo around our home.  His English wasn’t great, but his manners were impeccable.  He smiled in every room and seemed genuinely interested in every minute detail my over-caffeinated brain spit out.  His wife, Aino, was still in Finland and wouldn't arrive until next week so he took housekeeping notes for her.  His pen flew across the paper as I rambled on about the vacuum cleaner.  He wrote in Finnish and for all I knew was writing warnings to his wife about the crazy American homeowner.  Being a businessman, he took pictures of any damage in the house.  I understood why this was necessary, but it felt like I was being judged; I’m sure my friends and neighbors had noted the same flaws, but they were kind enough not to take pictures.

Somewhere in the middle of my housekeeping trial, my sister and brother-in-law arrived.  Gail took the kids with her to pick-up Chinese for our dinner and Beau stayed to help finish loading the U-Haul for South Carolina.  They both met Aapo before he left.  It was some relief knowing they would be in town to watch over the house, if needed.

The U-Haul was finally loaded with only the essential fifty-five boxes and the Harley Davidson when I suddenly felt rooted to the spot.  I sluggishly strolled through each room one more time touching each cherished possession that wasn't tucked away in the basement or going with us to Fripp.  My exhaustion made it easier to let them go and entrust them to a stranger's care.  A person can only pack so many boxes in nine days.  We locked up our beloved home for the last time for our sabbatical year, loaded the dog in the car and drove away without a backwards glance.  
I don't think I had ever felt so free in my life.

Halloween Revisited

Children: Beware!
This is what too much candy does to your body.

Last All Hallow's Eve, the kids were forlorn.  No neighborhood to trick or treat.  No friends running up to argue who had the most candy.  They only had sixty-something retirees living the good life on Fripp Island.  Very scary prospects for the only kids on the island.

Our close neighbors went out of their way to supply the children with special treats for this quiet Halloween.  Anabel, Wyatt and Emma loved this uncommon treatment, but unfortunately, individual loot buckets filled with personalized treats just didn't have enough thrills to please our imitation-blood thirsty kids, so we hopped on the golf cart to hit other homes on the island.  After only two stops, our kids had plastered grins on their faces and microwave popcorn and Jello pudding cups in their treat bags from the surprised residents of the unlucky homes where our trick or treaters knocked.  Watching island residents raid their pantries for our polite children was not how we had hoped to spend our first Halloween away from home.  Greg floored the pedal and slung the golf cart around saying, "This is ridiculous!  We've got to find our own &*%^# Halloween somewhere!"

Then, I remembered our adopted hometown of Beaufort, South Carolina and its real-life  haunted houses.  For the kids' sakes, we stepped out of our comfort zone (having only ever trick or treated the houses in our own neighborhood before) and resurrected our dead evening into one of the best Halloween's ever!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

To read more of our ghoulish night, check out my post from a year ago:  Beaufort Tricks or Treats. 

This year, we'll try to conjure the Beaufort spirit for some frights in Hickory Flat.  Ghosts are a scarcity in a neighborhood less than six years old. Without a haunted house in sight, we'll just have to take turns scaring each other. 


Happy Halloween!

Moving Memories

It's Flashback Friday!  These posts are from my book-in-progress about our sabbatical year...

Anyone remember Hurricane Irene?

As we unpacked our last box, the radar on the local weather station showed Hurricane Irene heading directly for the South Carolina coast.  We were not off to an auspicious start.

     Relieved and relaxed during the whole journey southeast, we arrived on Fripp Island to insufferable late August heat.  Built in the Charleston style, Greg’s rental home was three stories tall with the kitchen and living room on the third floor for maximum ocean views overlooking the moss-covered live oaks and palmetto trees- Great for enjoying low country vistas, but hard on the back. After the second load up the two flights of steps, it was obvious that we had brought too much stuff.  Our temporary home was only 1600 square feet and the home we left was over twice as big.  Back in Canton, it didn't look like we had overpacked, but being in the smaller home, we gained perspective fast.

     “This is like trying to fit twenty pounds of potatoes in a ten pound sack.”  Greg had a knack for pulling out old sayings that summed up the situation perfectly.  We decided to unload the U-Haul, return it, and sort when our energy returned.  We told the kids to save themselves and go play instead of standing around in a thousand degree trailer learning new cuss words from their schoolteachers.

An hour later, we were thanking God for his tender mercies. A family from Delaware, and our neighbors on Fripp Island, had been following my blog, saw the U-Haul, and walked over to invite us to dinner.  Greg and I declined, as we were sweating like pigs and unfit for company, but gratefully accepted for the children.  After the past ten days of stress, we hadn’t even thought about supper.  We continued to unload while the kids dined down the street when Delaware Mom (Yes, Jennifer, that's my anonymous name for you.) arrived with two heaping plates for us.  Simple kindness is highly underrated.  It was the best meal I’d had in weeks and sustained us till the last box was carried up.

Looking at the massive, swirling grey clouds covering the coastline from Georgia to Virginia on the television screen, I thought, “Have we really moved in only to be forced to move out?” Listening to the reporter, I tried to comprehend the situation.  What does mandatory evacuation mean, anyway?  

Having no experience in Hurricanes, we watched and planned.  Since buying the Fripp house in 2006, we have never had a hurricane threaten our coastline.  The house came with plywood sheeting for the windows, but we had never checked how they fit.  At Lowe's in Beaufort, we purchased an extra case of water and wood screws just in case.  No one in town was panicking which I found very comforting.  Maybe they knew something I didn't.  

During the following twenty-four hours, Irene's path moved eastward and we were unofficially deemed safe from the storm.  Looking at the Category 3 Hurricane on the satellite, we breathed a sigh of relief for us and said a prayer for those to the north.  Anabel was disappointed.  At twelve, a hurricane sounded exciting.  She has no concept of storm damage. The weatherman said to watch out for rip currents and extremely high tides, but the low country area should miss most of Irene's path.  

I said, "Thank, God!"  

Greg and Wyatt said in unison, "Surf Board!"

This has to be the biggest difference between men and women. 

However, both sexes did a foolish thing on Friday: we drove into Beaufort to pick up Greg's Harley.  The power had gone off briefly in the morning and we had a little rain, but other than that the weather seemed like any other day at the beach.  When the repair shop called to say the bike was ready, it wasn't raining at all.  Greg thought it best to go on in, pick it up and get it over with in case heavier winds and rain began.  The kids stayed at home finishing school work while I dropped Greg and headed to the art supply shop and the grocery store.  By the time I exited Publix, I felt the first drop of rain.  I called the house and Greg wasn't home yet.  Should I worry?  Greg was an excellent driver and a smart guy.  He'll be fine.  Driving home, the closer I got to the outer barrier islands of Harbor and Hunting, the worse it became.  Sheets of rain pelted my windshield.  Wind shook our massive two-ton Ford Excursion.  I suddenly became eerily aware that no other cars were on the road.  I should have headed back inland, but all I could think was, “Where was Greg?  Is he home with the children?  Has the power gone out again? Are the kids safe?  How could we have left them alone?  We know you can’t trust the weatherman!”  If this was what the outer bands of a hurricane were like, I can't imagine how scary being hit head-on would be.  I pulled over to call home.  Greg had stopped three times driving back and was wet to the bone, but had made it home safe and sound.  The kids were fine and loved nature’s drama.

I made it home with groceries and new art supplies for the kids.  Evening arrived just as the bands spiraled further northward.  We used our new paints to capture the edge of a hurricane sunset.  To quote American Blues singer, Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter, “Goodnight, Irene!  I’ll see you in my dreams.” Or nightmares, as the case may be.

Letter Art- Camden, Maine

While waiting on lobster rolls (YUM!) at a sidewalk cafe called Fresh in Camden, Maine, we played a street art game with our kids.  We tried to find as many letters as we could capture with our camera using only the objects we could see from our table. (This was one of the many travel games we played to entertain the troops last year.)

Needless to say, the beautiful fall day inspired our imaginations.

Here is one of our compositions from our Letter Art: Can you guess what it spells?

The Ben Franklin Institute - Ultimate Field Trip

Flashback Friday!  Fridays are for remembering people and places I forgot...

 The Ben Franklin Institute was hands-down the best museum we visited all year (and we visited a lot!)  Parents and kids alike agreed it had the most interesting hands-on exhibits and experiments.

We began in the Earth room (not sure if this was the official name of this room, but its exhibits were all about the Earth so...).  We tried experiments with global warming, erosion, the atmosphere, and weather, which led us to Franklin's famous investigations with lightning and electricity.

Greg shocked at the many hands on experiments.

Ben, ever curious, stood in the rain with a kite and key on a string and shocked himself and his son repeatedly for science.  His discovery of the electrical relationship between lightning and the earth led to one of his inventions, the lightning rod.  At the Institute, they have recreations of his famous electricity work and even have a tool that allowed us to shock ourselves just like Ben.  Turned out, being shocked hurt just like I remembered.  Thanks, Ben.

Coincidentally, the room next to the electricity room was the human body room.  We went straight through the gigantic heart to see the damage we might have done with our repeated shocks.  (Luckily, no permanent damage was found.)  We did test every part of our bodies from stamina and muscle function to brain challenges and sensory skills.  We loved this room!  The Institute further enhanced our visit with scientists and teachers set up throughout the room assisting and explaining each area of the body.  Wyatt loved the brain studies and Anabel loved the emergency room doctor simulation.  Emma's favorite was the open heart surgery demonstration... there was a patient laid out on a operating table with his chest open to a video screen showing an actual heart surgery.  Pretty cool!

The aeronautics room contained demonstrations of flight with simulators available for an additional fee. The experiments with air showed us how lift and thrust affect flight.

This ultimate family field trip museum offered IMAX movies, planetarium shows and many classes to further your education and enjoyment of science- the exact things Ben Franklin loved.  Our only problem with our visit was there wasn't enough time to do it all.  As we left the museum for our walk to Independence Hall on a beautiful fall day in Philadelphia, Wyatt begged to return to the Institute.  That was an easy promise to make.  We can't wait to return to Philadelphia and the Franklin Institute.