It’s Endometriosis Awareness Week and my friend Erin McCole Cupp is sharing my story of endometriosis and secondary infertility at her blog as part of a weeklong series. Check it out!
Normally I save this kind of message for my own cooking blog, but I figured that someone else might be in the same position I’m in right now. I just got Big Brother’s school calendar in the mail today, and I know the other kids’ calendar will soon follow. Then it will be the cross-country meet schedule, and basketball season, and, well, you know the drill! I’m going to need all the great ideas for slow-cooked meals I can find–and all of these are family-tested.
So despite the fact that I haven’t even finished my August menu plan, I’m using this excuse to think ahead and browse among the offerings in the Crockpot Festival. Check it out!
I have a few to add:
1. Amy from R.C. Mommy, who grew up in Philly but now lives in North Jersey.
2. Ellen From Across the Net, who grew up in Pennsylvania but married a North Jersey guy and settled in South Jersey.
3. Christine M. of The Simple and the Ordinary who lives near my husband’s “old stomping ground.” Hey Christine, have you ever eaten at the Reo Diner? I miss that place.
4. One of my very first blog readers, Jill of Jill’s Write Stuff, who’s up in North Jersey.
Those with New Jersey roots who’ve moved on to other states:
6. Esther, the Hawaii Catholic Mom, who got this whole ball rolling!
I had to illustrate this with the picture of my favorite waterfall. Every time I see this, it makes me remember home. Yes, I’m still in the state but I’m 100 miles from Paterson now, and I rarely get to see the falls that we’d pass on our way to and from my grandmother’s. Thanks, Esther, for the photo!
The only time I ever lived out of state was when I was in college (Scranton, PA) and grad school (South Bend, IN). And the only thing I ever missed was closeness to family. For that matter, I miss it now. But I love it here in South Jersey, where things are a little slower paced, a little less congested. I don’t think I could survive it if I had to drive Turnpike Exit 12 to 10, then 287 north to Piscataway, each and every morning-rush hour, anymore. I’m amazed I’m still alive to tell the tale.
New Jersey is the Rodney Dangerfield of states. It gets no respect and deserves plenty.
And in the great New Jersey tradition, out of the 3 of these bloggers I’ve met, two were at diners!