He Threatened Me Yet Again

The hubby

This has been going on for many years now.  Too many years.  Probably since right after I married this man almost 36 years ago.

The threats, the scares, and the promises not ever carried out.

And, he did it again the other night.  He came home and threatened again.

He said, "I was gonna order him to take it all off.  I was gonna, really.  And I almost did.  I got this close."  (He says this as he puts two of his pudgy fingers almost together.)

I said, "Yeah, yeah, you've threatened me with THAT before."

Back in the beginning I used to say, "NO!  NO!  NO!  Don't do it!!!"

And then I'd be a wreck, worrying that ultimately he'd do it.

Although these vicious threats continue to come, he's never yet followed through.

You see, every time he goes to the barber, and he went again the other night, as soon as the barber gets clipping, the hubby has these irrational thoughts and thinks of telling him to "just shave it all off."

He goes into some sort of brainless stupor when his hair is being combed, cut, or even just touched.  He thinks weird thoughts, like thinking having no hair would be a good thing.

 I wouldn't like that.

I like him having some hair on his head.

I think he has a nice head of hair (even though it's turning grayish white awfully fast these days.)

I don't want him to follow through on his threat and just look silly.  The growing out of that irrational decision would not be a pretty process with the stick straight kind of hair he has.

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of handsome men out there who have no hair, or who willingly choose to shave their heads and keep them that way.

And there's those folks who've lost their hair due to chemotherapy treatments - now that's another true beauty of a different sort.

But him?  Willingly lose his hair?  No.  No, no, no.

He needs to stop making these horrid threats each time.

Either that, or I'll have to find a way to fight back.  This has gone on way too long.

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Nah, it's definitely through his hair.

The Calm Before the Storm

Yesterday and today I've been catching up on all sorts of things around the house, and enjoying the quiet calm before the storm.

There will be company arriving soon, travel to a baby shower, and then four days afterward recuperating at our cabin in the woods.  No cell phone, no WIFI, no blogging.  Just another one of my short term disappearances again.

Daughter Sarah has a pre-natal visit with her obstetrician, and then she and her husband will be driving in from western Ohio tomorrow for the baby shower we have planned for Saturday afternoon.

Daughters Rachel and Lindsay and I have been planning this gala event and working on the details since before Christmas.  As Sarah is approaching her mid-May due date, we expect her belly will make its grand entrance into the baby shower room well before the rest of her.

As of her latest ultrasound exam (today), the doc says the baby boy looks great and is growing nicely.  Currently at 4 pounds and 14 ounces, Sarah wonders if he will be a big baby at birth.  The doc says he is in the 70th percentile for size at this point, and all fluids are good, heart rate is good, blood pressure is good, and finally, Sarah is free to safely make the seven hour drive home for her shower.

Also yesterday, son Caleb and his dog left for an overnight trip up at our cabin on the mountain, leaving the husband/lover/best friend and I here for a rare evening alone together.  We decided to go out on a little quiet date together while we had the chance.  After a simple dinner at a local pizza joint, we headed to the Well Coffeehouse at our church.

The man who manages the coffeehouse is married to a woman I've known for many years.  I clearly remember one night long ago when a friend of hers and I were gathered in her living room. That night she made a radical decision to turn over a new leaf, and she gave her life completely over to Jesus Christ.  What a transformation!  It was almost as if she became lit up from inside.  That was probably 20 some years ago, and she has never gone back to the way she was before.  It's always a pleasure to run into her at the coffeehouse and catch up a bit.

The travel agent who makes many of our travel plans for us is also a part time barista at the coffeehouse, and although she did concoct a delicious minty, latte-ish, coffee type drink for each of us, the real reason we went there was to pick up some of the latest travel brochures she had brought along for us.

It looks like I'll have some fun reading and dreaming and planning in my spare time.  I'm aching to get out and do some traveling and sightseeing, especially after being cooped up throughout this long winter.

In other exciting news,  as I write this my grandtwins are headed for a visit with Mickey Mouse.  Here is the I'm-so-tired-because-I-was-too-excited-to-sleep-last-night-and-now-I'm-too-tired-to-really-smile photo of them in the line at the Philadelphia airport gate:

While they were heading south to sunny skies and warmer temperatures, we were having more of that white stuff again this morning.

Will it never end?  It wasn't much, but still it's there, proving that Old Man Winter has definitely got his heels firmly dug in and just won't leave yet.

Over the next two days I'll host my company, cook lots of food for the baby shower, and travel to and co-host the party.  Hopefully afterwards I'll have photos of all the things we've worked so hard on over the last several months.

For now, though, I'd better get back to checking and rechecking my lists.

Flinging Open the Door, Finally

There is nothing more important to me in this life than my relationship with Jesus Christ.

There.

I said what I've wanted to say here for quite a long time.

This is my 550th blog post, and why I haven't come right out before now with that, I just don't know.

Oh, I suppose I've adequately hinted around at my faith in various posts here and there, but still, I have not ever really come right out and defined what matters most to me.

When I began writing this blog almost two years ago, I imagined it would be a place to share my comings and goings.  If I'd travel, I'd share that.  If I'd stay home, I'd write about what I was doing, crafting, cooking, reading, etc., at home.  And, all along the way I'd share my thoughts.

I've done all of that to be sure.

I've shared about our lovely trips out of the country to Jamaica and St. Lucia.

You've seen reports of our other trips within the states, and many of them in our camper or at our little cabin on the mountain.

You've read about new crafty projects I've put together, and recipes I've tried.

I've welcomed you into our home and shown you our ongoing home renovation, decorating and organizational projects.

Most certainly by now you know how delighted I am with all our grandchildren; there've been plenty of photos included in my blog showing my fun times together with them.

You've seen the ridiculous antics of our silly puppy.

You've participated in our holiday celebrations and followed the changing holiday decor through my blog updates.

The fact is, my life has been an open door in the daily posts of this blog.

But.

That door has been open only a very tiny crack, to be completely honest.  There's this whole other part that hasn't been exposed - the part that is not "the tip of the iceberg, but the rest of the stuff below the surface."

Why am I getting so deep and philosophical today?

It's because of what I read this morning in my daily morning reading.

Each morning I read a small section of the Bible, and lately what I've been reading seems clearly to be a reminder that my life on this earth is a temporary assignment.  The Bible seems stocked full of phrases that all refer to the brief and temporary nature of life on earth.

Specifically, life is described as:

     a mist

     a fast runner

     a breath

     a wisp of smoke

     a shadow

If any of these descriptions are true, and I do believe the Bible to be the true and inspired word of God, then I cannot waste any more time keeping my true self behind a mostly closed door.

You see, even though I have always been a fairly private person about my faith and what matters to me, the reality is that there is nothing in this life that concerns me more than whether the people in my life know Jesus Christ or not.

From now on, don't be surprised if you read more from me on this subject.

Earth is not our final home; we were created for something much, much better.

Have You Read Anything Good Lately?

I love this home library.  Wish it was mine.

Although I've been making regular short trips to our cabin retreat in the mountains throughout this winter, and other trips to visit with family members, I still have found time to read on a regular basis.  One way or another, no matter what is going on in my life or where I am traveling, I can always seem to find time to get lost in a good book.

It used to be that I would start a book, and keep at it until I finished it before moving onto the next book.  Lately, though, I've developed more of a smorgasbord style for my reading adventures.  Now it's not unusual for me to be switching back and forth between two good books.  On rare occasions I may even have three going at the same time.  Why not?  If reading books is so pleasurable to me, why not have even more of that pleasure.  After all, there are worse things to be gluttonous about, aren't there?

Each of the last three books, though very different, was quite engaging, and I would highly recommend all three.

The first book I read was Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns.  The story, set in Afghanistan, spans roughly 45 years - the period from the 1960's to 2003.  It centers on the lives and intersecting relationship of two women, Mariam and Laila, who are ultimately married to the same man.  We see the difficult roles these two women have in Afghan society and their daily struggles to simply survive.


From this book, I learned a bit of a history lesson along with a load of thankfulness.  By its end, I was overwhelmed with gratitude to be able to live in a society where women are valued, and to have a husband who treats me with love and kindness.

 In the second book, The Compound Effect, Darren Hardy details the guaranteed success that will result when his formula for compounding is put into use:
   
     smart choices + consistency + time = radical difference

He clearly asserts that "you alone are responsible for what you do, don't do, or how you respond to what's done to you."  Furthermore, he emphasizes that real and lasting success requires work, and lots of it.

I found this personal development book to be highly motivating.  I'm more determined than ever since reading the book to carefully examine every one of the little choices I make throughout each day.  As he claims, consistantly making lots of little wise choices over a long time will result in success in many areas of life.

Finally, I read Orange is the New Black, an autobiography by Piper Kerman.

Convicted and sentenced to 15 months at the federal prison in Danbury, Connecticut, Piper Kerman barely resembles the reckless young woman who delivered one suitcase of drug money ten years ago.

However, even though she has a solid career, a steady boyfriend, and a loving family, she becomes one of the millions of women who find themselves "doing time."

This book chronicles her year in a women's prison, from her first strip search upon arrival, to her final release.  I've always wondered what it's really like in an all female prison, and within this engaging book, I've gotten a bit of a look on the inside.

Although those three were excellent books, I've already got my nose into two more.  That report will be for another blog post, another day.

What're you reading these days?

When is it Time to go South?

This seems to be the Winter that just won't quit.

Yesterday the hubby and I were discussing how done with Winter we both are.  I said to him that although I'm tired of Winter now, I do think I'd miss the changing of the seasons if we were to live in a tropical climate that didn't change four times a year.

To that he replied that yes, in theory, it can be pleasant to experience four different seasons a year.  However, here in central Pennsylvania, it's really nearly eight months of winter weather.  This year winter started early in October and will no doubt continue well into May or so.

Not only is it cold and windy the majority of those days, it is also usually cloudy on the other days.  To have a pleasant sunny and warm day is a rarity in these parts.

What makes people decide to go South?

So many folks become "snowbirds" and head south for at least the winter months.  Others retire and completely relocate to a warm, sunny, southern location to live out the rest of their lives.

Do these people just hate snow?

What exactly is it that pushes people over that "edge" and causes them to make the migration south?

I've always joked that I thought Florida would eventually sink under the water due to the weight of all those old people moving down there.  Now add to that the weight of the snake population which all reports claim is growing every day, and maybe I'm not so off the mark.

Ironically, I'm finding myself having the "Should I move South, and if so, when and where?" thoughts.  I've become one of those old coots I joked about for so long.

What are your thoughts?  If you are one of those that migrates south, how did you settle on the decision to do so?

Right now I just want some sunny, warm days.

I FINALLY Got To See It

For quite a long time, I have wanted to see the off-Broadway musical, "RENT."  Last night I finally got my chance.

In some ways, though, I'm sorry to say that I still don't feel as if I've seen the true "RENT."

It all began for me several years ago when I saw some sort of a television special about the artist/composer Jonathon Larson.  I learned in that program about this 29 year old man who wrote a rock musical based on Giacomo Puccini's opera "La Boheme," which tells the story of a group of young and impoverished artists trying to survive in New York's lower east side while battling HIV/AIDS.

However, it wasn't so much the story of "RENT," and especially not the alternative lifestyles and adult themes portrayed in the musical that attracted me to it.

No, it was the music.  Definitely, the music.  Listening to song after song, I became quickly convinced that this composer, Jonathon Larson, was a musical genius.  I was sure we'd be hearing his compositions for many years to come.  He would have longevity like some of the other greats.

Unfortunately, that was not to happen as Larson died unexpectedly during the night immediately following the final dress rehearsal, just hours before the scheduled debut on January 24th, 1996.  He never lived to see how his dream immediately became an off-Broadway success.  "RENT" eventually opened on Broadway on April 25, 1996 and won three Tony Awards including Best Musical and four Drama Desk Awards.  Larson won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama after his death.

Since first hearing the soundtrack, I have listened to it and enjoyed it many times.  I knew I needed to see the show at some point, and because my husband does not care for traveling to New York City, I wasn't sure how I'd ultimately get to see this musical.

Recently a small theater opened in our local mall, The Courtyard Theater, and I learned that "RENT" was scheduled to play on weekend evenings during this month.  So, of course I quickly ordered tickets and we went to see it last night.

I expected a pleasant date evening - dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants, BJ's Steak and Ribs in Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania, then a night at the theater.

Unfortunately it wasn't the great experience seeing "RENT" that I had imagined for all these years since first hearing the music.

This was a small theater, seating probably only 100 or so guests, and there were a plethora of technical difficulties on the night we were there.  The temperature was easily 80 degrees in there, and the seats were cheap, tiny, uncomfortable folding chairs.  Because the theater was so small, there were virtually no scenery changes, yet they always seemed to be carrying things in and out and banging things around between scenes.  No microphones on the cast members made hearing them difficult much of the time.

The "RENT" score contains some pretty challenging tunes, and unfortunately, the performance didn't always aptly reflect the music I had learned to expect from all those times I had listened to my "RENT" CD.

The evening was not a total bust, though.  There were several of the characters that had very pleasant singing voices and could handle the ranges as required.  They portrayed some difficult and controversial roles quite capably.

The character Angel Schunard (internet photo)

The character Joanne Jefferson (internet photo)

I learned two things seeing this show last night.  One - any date night with Bob is great, but two - I should've gone and seen it in New York City while it was still there.

Bucknell University Memories

Several years ago, my mother handed me a bundle containing all the letters I wrote home during my years away at college.  I was studying mathematics at Bucknell University, and taking the additional courses necessary to obtaining my teaching certificate.

Several months ago I came across this packet of letters again, buried at the bottom of a drawer.  Since I found them again, I've been reading them, one per day, and having plenty of amusement looking back at what my life was like 35 to 40 years ago.

One letter in particular brought to mind so many forgotten experiences.  This letter was written home on Tuesday, December 9, 1975.  At that time I would have been a sophomore approaching the end of the Fall semester.

 Some of the memories that came back to me as I read parts of this letter were:

1.  How we all tried to carve out some precious time each week to contact our families.  This was the age of snail mail.  There were no personal computers, no cell phones, no texting.  To write a letter required finding an hour between classes or using the letter writing as a study break.

"I hope you understand that I haven't written much lately because I've been so very busy."


2.  I saved up my pocket change to make a phone call home on the dorm's one hall phone every Wednesday night. If some other activity pre-empted  my call that week, I would write the reason why in my next letter home.


3.  For one reason or another, at college we never seemed to get enough sleep.  Ever.  That balance between studying enough and socializing is a tricky one to find.

"I find myself getting to bed later and later and getting up earlier and earlier."


4.  Roommates could get to be very annoying at times, even if they seemed like great friends at selection time.

"Barb informs me that although her finals will be over by Wednesday at noon, she is staying until Saturday night to keep me company.  Of course, I was 'overjoyed' at that news.  What I need her company for during finals week I don't know.  I hope she doesn't bug me.  I never heard of anybody sticking around here after finals if they didn't have to."

5.  Getting mail from home was like hitting the lottery jackpot.

6.  Receiving an invitation from a boy to attend a college formal with him was a very big deal.  Apparently, wearing an all black dress to it, was an even bigger deal back then.

"Nancy took me into Sunbury where we searched every single decent store looking for a dress for me.  At the very last store, we had almost given up when I found a dress I fell in love with and it looked excellent on me.  I can imagine your reaction if I tell you now that it's all black, but let me mitigate the shock by saying that it looked great on me and I got so many compliments the night of the formal."

7.  This was the era of dorm hall fondu parties.

"Saturday night we ended up having to make four pots of fondu, because it was so good!  So many people came that we couldn't all fit in the suite."

8. At the time of this one letter, I was well into the process of trying out for the Bucknell Women's Basketball team.  I remember the stress and fatigue that accompanied those practices and games.

"This week is pretty critical - they are really watching us and making notes because the cuts will be finalized by Friday."  (I did get selected to the team.)

9.  Juggling the time requirements of keeping up with my studies and traveling to out-of-the-area games and tournaments was a constant sap on my energy and amount of sleep.

"This Thursday, besides practice, we must travel to Lock Haven to see the French National Woman's Basketball team play an exhibition game.  I think it will be good to see but will take up a big hunk of study time.  And, if I say I can't make it, you know the coach'll think I'm not very interested."

10.  News from home was always valuable and coveted.

"How about the Christmas dance?  Did Bruce (my brother) ask 'the mature one' yet?

And finally, I've noticed a common thread in most of my letters to home.  That is, a request at the end of each letter for some money.  Because I attended college before the era of ATM bank machines, we only had our trusty checkbooks to work with.  Good old Mom had to make a transfer from my savings account to my checking account every couple of weeks.

Boy have things changed since then.

Don't even get me started on my fancy college calculator or typewriter....

Honestly, I am NOT a Hoarder!

Internet photo of a hoarder's home

Last evening I watched a television show on the A & E Channel, "Hoarders."  Each week this show features a person who is considered by his/her relatives to be a hoarder.

I was revolted and disgusted while I watched as one man's home was shown, room by room.  I found myself cringing as I watched thousands of cockroaches moving throughout his belongings.  When the covers of his bed were pulled back, hundreds of roaches ran in every direction.  As the man stood and talked to the tv crew, there were bugs crawling on his clothing, on his head, and even into his pockets.

How a person can live in those conditions is simply beyond me.

At the beginning of each episode of "Hoarders," the following paragraph appears:

     "Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder marked by an obsessive need to acquire and keep things, even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary.

      More than three million people are compulsive hoarders."

That's a lot of people.  Quite a lot of very sick people.

There was a chair back there somewhere in the corner.

Here's the scary thing:  if you were to take a look into my office nowadays, you might be saying to yourself, "That Jill is definitely a hoarder."

But honestly, I AM NOT A HOARDER.  In fact, lately I've written several blog posts about my efforts to declutter and organize my home over the last year or so.

I'm a neat and tidy person, and I like my surroundings to be neat and tidy, too.  That includes my cabin in the mountains, and my fifth wheel camper, too.

I like my home clean, and along with cleaning it myself, I hire a cleaning lady to come in every other week and help clean.

Yet looking at my office, you might think, "Umm humm."

I have hinted at the fact that there's a large building project going on up on top of the mountain, and move in date is really just a little over one month away.  And, whereas most people move from one dwelling to another, that will not be the case for us with our new lodge.

All furnishings and household goods will stay in our old cabin, requiring a complete outfitting of the new place.

So with that out of the bag, you now have an explanation for what is growing in my office.  I have a list and I am checking it twice.  And thrice.  As each required item on our master list is acquired, it is slashed off the list, and loaded into my back room.  We have been working at this since last July when the building project began.

In that room of mine there is certainly not anything that is worthless (other than the large amounts of unnecessary over-packaging on some of the items we bought), hazardous (unless you take into account the new set of kitchen knives we bought), or unsanitary (even the one large kitchen and six other rooms' small new trash cans in there are spotless.)

So no, I AM NOT A HOARDER.  I keep reminding myself that in just one more month the piles will all be moved out of my office and into the new lodge.  They will be carefully unpacked and thoughtfully put away into appropriate locations in drawers, cabinets, and closets.

That new lodge will surely be spectacular, but it will be oh so nice to have my office back again, too.

Back From My Hiatus

I've been galavanting around and away from home for ten out of the last 13 days, and since part of that time was spent in a no cell phone no WIFI zone, I took a brief break from blogging.

The first six days I spent up on top of my beloved mountain which was still heavily laden with lots of snow.  In fact, it was no small deal to get all of us, our belongings, and our food back in to our cabin.  With about a foot of snow still on the ground when we arrived at the edge of our property, we decided to fire up a snowmobile and go from there in with it.

It easily hauls lots of weight, and so by making several trips, each time hauling two people and a wagon full of gear, we made it back in to our cabin before dark.

Our puppy, Sheila, either runs ahead or rides in the wagon with one of us.  She has boundless energy, so her preference is to run and lead the way.

These two snowmobiles have been around for quite some time, and have seen plenty of adventures over the years.

My father always has them serviced and ready to go at the beginning of each winter.  Some winters when we have very little snow, we question the expense.  However, during a winter like the one that is finally ending, we've been glad to be able to put the key in and have reliable transportation when conditions are too prohibitive to use our trucks.

My parents, aged 79 and 80, have had extensive snowmobiling adventures, and are still going strong and enjoying being out in the woods in all conditions.  We love spending time with them, and we are grateful they share their "toys" with us.

Ready for a ride - son Caleb, my mother and father

The forests are just so lovely and peaceful on a sunny, winter day.  Gliding through the woods and seeing the pristine, white snow easily calms the spirit.  Although many folks gripe about any snow, to me it's so pleasant to see so much WHITE, undirtied snow.  The only markings were the tracks we left, and oodles of animal tracks criss crossing through the woods.

I find that in the woods there's always something to be discovered, if one makes a point of being observant.  There are quirky tree stumps,

fungus growing here and there,

and plenty of lichens, too.

In a matter of one week, it seemed like we experienced three seasons.  Frigid snowy winter weather at times,  Spring-like blue skies and warmth requiring only a light jacket on other days,

and melting icicles along with a windy Fall-like rainstorm on the day we left.  Let me just say that snowmobiling in a driving rain is not so much fun.  Those blowing raindrops feel like little needles slamming full speed into your face.  

There may have been one slight snowmobiling mishap.  On occasion, when maneuvering a snowmobile, in some situations, it's actually a better idea to go faster.  On one of our outings, rounding a sharp corner too slowly, the hubby dumped our sled and us too.  Heads down in the snow, arses up.

Although there were no injuries, there was plenty of giggling and a few ridiculous body contortions while excavating ourselves from our spill.    Giggles ----> Laughing ----> Peeing a little ----> More giggling ----> More laughing ----> More ...  Well, you get the picture.

Of course, as always, during our time at the cabin there were some projects to be accomplished.  For one, we needed more firewood in the cabin.  While the men loaded wood, the women inside tended the fire and cooked some mighty fine food.

And most certainly, all those manly projects require manly toys tools.

It may come as no surprise that all that fresh air and hard work usually results in frequent naps.

After returning to civilization, I spent just one day laundering our clothing and repacking for my next road trip.  

Youngest daughter Sarah's baby is due mid-May, and her baby shower will be happening in just another week and a half.  So, I headed down again to the Lancaster area to work with daughter Lindsay on baby shower preparations.  

Sarah, knowing where I was and what we were doing, showered us back in her own way.  Tormented by the knowledge that we were working on surprises for her, she called us practically every hour wanting details.  I told her seventeen horses cannot drag it out of me.  All will be revealed in due time.  Patience, Sarah.  

Granddaughter Ellie was instructed to wear green to school on St. Patrick's Day.  Although two-year-olds typically have no clue about any of this green tradition, including the pot of gold, rainbows, and especially leprechauns, Ellie's mother did her part. 

Isn't Ellie just the cutest little leprechaun you ever did see?  Those blue eyes melt me every time.

Snowmobiling, check.

Laundry, check.

Baby shower preparations, check.

St. Patrick's Day with a cutie, check.

Home again, check.  (At least for a few days.)

More laundry, check.

Add to all of that a consultation with our landscaper (our lawn needs some serious work), and a visit to our financial planner, and we are back to our usually busy schedule.

No wonder I didn't have time to blog.

Woman Overboard

It is highly possible that I may have gone a bit overboard.

In looking ahead to a long weekend away snowmobiling up in the mountains of north-central Pennsylvania, I may have had a minor blurp of misjudgment.

Thinking of flying through those frosty woods, led me to thinking about how that saps a lot of one's energy, led me to thinking about how hungry it makes one, led me to this ridiculous frenzy of cooking and baking over the last couple of days.

There will be only six of us along for the ride, but somehow I've made enough goodies for the entire county in which we will be snowmobiling.

Yes, I may have gone over the edge, and I'm sure there are those naysaying folks that would consider the amount of baked goods and pastries I've made for a long weekend to be excessive.  Somehow, though, I find it hard to reconcile the concept of 'baked good and pastries' with the notion of 'excessive.'  It just doesn't happen in my book.

I started out sensibly by making a simple batch of Sloppy Joes,

and from there it just went haywire.

First there are the Seasoned Goldfish for anytime snacking.  If I were to get lost in the woods, I could survive on these for a long time.

And then, if you're gonna have salty stuff, you gotta have the sweets to balance it all out.  Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.  It's a vicious cycle.

There's these delectable Red Hots Cookies,

and a batch of St. Patrick's Day green Rice Krispie shamrocks.

If there's fruit involved it's healthy, right?  Well then, here are the lemon bars, straight out of the oven,

and the absolutely-to-die-for blueberry muffins.  (This is actually the second batch of these.  The first batch was so good, we ate them all.)

And finally, there's an old standby - a classic iced cinnamon streusel coffee cake.  In case we run out of the other stuff.

I just hope we don't starve.