The Press-Dispatch
Issue link: https://www.ifoldsflip.com/i/867518
The Press-Dispatch Wednesday, August 30, 2017 D-1 HOME LIFE TO ADVERTISE: Call: 812-354-8500 Email: ads@pressdispatch.net Visit: 820 E. Poplar Street, Petersburg Deadline: 5 p.m. on Monday You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't tr y. BEVERLY SILLS Katiedid vs... by Katiedid Langrock Brighter Side by Janice Barniak Crime baby Life, people and origins BANANA BUTTERMILK BISCUITS By Monica Sinclair While sitting at my desk today trying to decide what to put in my column, I remembered some bananas I have in my freezer that needed to be used. However, I didn't want to do the same old banana bread, even though I love it, so a thought of banana biscuits popped in my head. I searched the internet and was able to find an easy recipe that I am going to have to try. The best thing is I have almost all of the ingredients in my cabinets. Enjoy! INGREDIENTS 2¼ cups flour 1 Tablespoon sugar 2 teaspoon baking pow- der ½ teaspoon baking soda ¾ teaspoon salt ¼ cup butter ¾ cup buttermilk ½ cup banana mashed 1 teaspoon vanilla DIRECTIONS 1. Preheat oven to 400° F 2. Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking so- da and salt. Cut in butter until crumbly. 3. Slowly add buttermilk, mashed banana and vanil- la and stir to moisten. 4. Pat out dough on a well-floured cutting board un- til approximately 1 inch thick. Do not overwork dough. If dough is too moist, slowly knead in a bit more flour until workable. 5. Using a floured biscuit cutter, cut out dough and place on a greased baking sheet. 6. Bake for 15 minutes or until a nice, light golden brown. Serve warm with butter and honey. Source: dineanddish.net Share your favorite recipe! www.facebook.com/mealsinminutes Monica's Meals in Minutes PO Box 68, Petersburg, IN 47567 mealsinminutes@pressdispatch.net FACEBOOK MAIL EMAIL a MEALS IN Monica's MINUTES Youth First Today by Lisa Cossey, Youth First, Inc. Time management for a new school year With most children already back at school for a new year, many families will find themselves in a struggle for the ages: wants versus needs. Many families have difficulty find- ing a balance between work and play. But what if the struggle is between your child's academics and their ex- tracurricular activities? It would be hard to find a parent who would say academics aren't important, but at times it seems academics are in direct competition with having fun. Don't get me wrong. It's great for kids to have fun. They need active and sensory experiences to help them grow and develop. Extracurricular ac- tivities can also be a great way to de- velop skills. But if your child's academics are suffering or your child is upset, tear- ful, moody or more anxious than nor- mal, it's time to take a hard look at your family's schedule. And if you're spend- ing more time in the car than you do in your home together as a family, it's definitely time to step back and reas- sess your priorities. What is your child doing? Do they have one activity, or two, three, four? How many hours a day are they away from home? How many nights a week is your family away from home? Is your child getting enough sleep at night? A healthy balance is needed be- tween school and extracurricular ac- tivities. At this point in the year, your family will soon have a good idea of how much homework your student is going to receive daily. Evaluate what your child and family can handle. For reference, according to Dorothy Sluss, president of the U.S. Chapter of International Play Association, for ev- ery week of intensive activity, three weeks of less structured time and ac- tivity are needed to maintain a healthy balance for children. If your child's grades are not what they used to be, or if they are having more incomplete or missing work, it may be necessary to back off the wants and focus on the needs. It is okay to drop an activity due to falling grades or place a limit on how many activi- ties your child is able to join to keep a healthy balance. Putting academics ahead of sports, scouts, and dance is okay, too. We have a culture that encourag- es and supports many sports and oth- er activities. Encouragement is great. The issue is when children feel pres- sured to commit and join. It is okay to say no. It is okay to put your fami- ly's needs first. It is okay to limit the number of activities your family is in- volved in. If you have concerns for your child or need further ideas on how to strike the right balance for your family, please feel free to reach out to your child's teacher or to the Youth First School Social Worker at their school. We are here to help. This column is contributed by Lisa Cossey, LCSW, school social worker for Youth First, Inc., a local nonprofit ded- icated to strengthening youth and fam- ilies. Youth First provides 38 Master's level social workers to 56 schools in sev- en southwestern Indiana counties. More than 60,000 youth and families per year are served by Youth First's school social work and afterschool programs that pre- vent substance abuse, promote healthy behaviors, and maximize student suc- cess. To learn more about Youth First, visit www.youthfirstinc.org or call 812- 421-8336. I don't know how it began, the encouraging of my son to become a crime lord. Most likely, it was birthed out of necessity, as so many poor seemingly short-term parenting choices are. It was probably because of a tantrum, a freakout, a clingy spell, a crying spell – some event in which throwing my son off his game, making him question or making him confused, was the only surefire way to get him to stop whatever nonsense he was currently engaged in. "Just steal it," I must've said about that toy he wanted me to buy or that airplane he wanted to ride. "Go ahead. Take it. But you'd better get away before the feds come." Undoubt- edly, he stopped crying/screaming/ flailing and cocked his head in that cute, inquisitive way he does and said something along the lines of, "But, Mama, we can't steal. That's wrong." Thus turning the tantrum on its head, making him the person telling me no. It's a tactic I use a lot, and in the short term, the results are pretty stel- lar. The con-man parent approach bats around 1.000. And whenever a parent finds something that works to quickly dry up a meltdown, it's pretty hard for the parent to turn his or her back on it. It's why you see so many kids, eyes red from crying, walking around Target with a large chocolate bar melting around their now-smiling mouths. We cave. I cave by suggest- ing absurd crimes to my mini. A baby running a crime ring is in- herently amusing. It's why we always laugh at the cigar-toting tot in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit." It's why Dave Chappelle's baby-on-the-corner rou- tine is surprising and hi- larious. But what never occurred to me prior to having children is that the idea of the jailbird baby didn't pop into the imagi- nations of adults willy-nil- ly. Those cute little mon- sters gave us the idea of a crawling criminal by sim- ply being the adorable, oc- casionally evil toddling little tyrants they are. When my son was first learning how to walk, he used to make his way around restaurants and parks, looking for the next stur- dy source to lean on and catch his fall. But though his next location was determined by his need for balance, his desired destination was always a woman's purse. He knew those things were full of goodies and toys. Often my 1 1/2-year-old would re- turn to me, all smiles, handing me a recently snatched wallet. I would thank him for the loot and walk back to the unsuspecting lady and explain that my klepto-kiddo had just stolen her cash and credit cards. The wom- an would usually smile and comment on how cute my baby was. No harm, no foul. And an idea for the most ador- able baby crime ring was born. Move over, Artful Dodger; my pickpockets are pint-size! I'm sure this memory is what made me think of suggesting that my child steal to quell a tantrum some years later. And the notion of our being secret thieves began to permeate throughout our conversations. Recently, when I saw a Jeep I liked, my son said, "We should steal it! " "To- tally," I agreed. "If the doors of the car are open, we're jumping in and driv- ing it home." My son ran up to the door and tugged. It swung open. Uh-oh. My kid looked so eager; this was his big "Gone in 60 Seconds" moment! I tried to cover. "Oh, shoot, we need the keys." "They're right there," my son ex- claimed, pointing to the keys hang- ing in the ignition. C'mon, people! How am I supposed to teach my kid not to steal your car when you make it so easy? I made up some reason as to why it was not a good time for grand theft au- to and rushed my kid out of the park- ing lot. But the gleam in my child's eye made me wonder whether I had taken the stealing jokes too far – or wheth- er he even knew it was a joke. I had al- ways assumed he was in on it. Yesterday we went to an antiques store that is on the first floor of the owner's house. Despite the "open" sign, a security alarm blared when we opened the front door. My son bolt- ed straight toward our car, scream- ing, "Hurry! We gotta get away be- fore the feds come! " We may need to have a serious talk. Like Katiedid Langrock on Face- book, at http://www.facebook.com/ katiedidhumor. REAL ESTATE TRANSFERS Margaret Sue Sullivan, FKN Margaret Sue Bur- ton, and NK A Margaret Sue Brenton, conveys to Margaret Sue Brenton, Christopher Alan Burton, Gerald Davis Burton, and Gaynecia Sue Burton Keusch, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Stephen Crooks, AK A Stephen G. Crooks, Fred- rick W. Crooks, Phyllis Crooks, and AK A Phyllis R. Crooks, convey to John Howard and Candace Howard, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Krista J. Stone conveys to Debra Ann Doerner, Trustee of Trust, Stephen James Manning, Trust- ee of Trust and Family of James Manning Irrevo- cable Trust, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Jennifer L. Asbell conveys to Bobby R. Asbell, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Robert D. Ellis and Mildred V. Ellis quitclaims to Patricia A. Mullins, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Patricia A. Mullins Trustee quitclaims to Gary L. Mullins, Patricia A. Mullins Trustee and Mul- lins Family Trust, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Carol W. Erwin and Charlotte A. Erwin convey to Charlotte A. Erwin Trust, real estate as record- ed in Pike County. Shirley R. Skelton conveys to Daryl A. Ivers and Laura Ivers, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Arlene J. Barrett conveys to David M. Barrett, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Ronald Lee McCandless and Nina McCandless convey to Tiffany R. Fraley, real estate as record- ed in Pike County. Carroll Edward Edrington and Jessie Lee Edrington convey to Paige A. Dunn Edrington, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Aaron J. Kell quitclaims to Linc J. Oxley, real es- tate as recorded in Pike County. Roger Philpot quitclaims to Dwaina Young and Roger Philpot, real estate as recorded in Pike County. Bruce E. Self II and Jacque J. Self convey to Su- san Christopher, real estate as recorded in Pike County. James N. Seitz conveys to Mark R. Seitz and Ka- trina M. Seitz, real estate as recorded in Pike Coun- ty. Darren Dewayne Dedrick conveys to Glezen General Baptist Church, real estate as recorded in Pike County. When I was a girl, I had an art teach- er who asked us to re-create the Mona Lisa. You took the bare bones of the picture, the pose, the smile, and add- ed something to make her more mod- ern. My art teacher did the example as an astronaut, adding the whimsi- cal bubble over her head, turning the background into a lonely starscape. I made my Mona Lisa into Connie Chung, cropping short her dark hair, adding a video box hovering up to the left, a desk and a three-piece suit so that all she kept was the enigmatic smile. Years later, I ask myself what it was about Connie Chung specifical- ly that I valued, and I can't say for sure. While to others she represent- ed an Asian female newscaster, and therefore, a groundbreaking figure opposite the traditional Dan Rather, it wouldn't have been her ethnicity as I was several years away from meet- ing an Asian person or understand- ing people had a framework of stereo- types through which they saw people who looked like Connie Chung. For me, she was the only person I had ev- er seen with that look, and I thought it completely unique to her. (It's something I should have re- membered when, years later, I brought my little brother to Bloom- ington, my college town, to stay with me for a week. He was 15 years younger than me, and, like myself at six years old, he had only ever seen one Asian person—in his case, Jack- ie Chan. When he sighted a person he believed to be Chan in the grocery store, I was mortified and apologetic. "Stop! I have to meet him," he yelled, flailing, as I abandoned the cart of food and hoisted him outside for a talking to, where he tried to ka- rate chop me to get away and meet his mentor). If I had to guess why I loved Connie Chung, I would probably say it was I empathized with being on the sidelines of things that just seemed to hap- pen around you. While a faraway war was hap- pening around Chung, all she could do was stoi- cally describe it, and face the death and destruc- tion looking empathetic and fabulous. When we moved from Indiana to Pennsylvania for my stepfather to take a job, it was this demeanor I af- fected, as I came to my non-existent watchers from the wreckage of my fully-packed bedroom. "With the Smurf skates already packed, the Blumenstock family of four has filled two U-Haul trucks with belongings, headed for a north- ern land of Amish buggies and un- known fortunes," I narrated bravely, without tears. Or when my sister's dog attack re- quired being near St. Louis Shriners Hospital, just as the Blumenstock marriage dissolved, and my sister spent what seemed like months in a plastic bubble to avoid infection of her many face and scalp wounds, I was on the sidelines, putting it into a journal, quoting my mother. "Things really just weren't working out," mom said of why our dad wasn't moving with us and wasn't at the hos- pital. "Plus I'm with George. If you're worried about playing the cello, Ken said he'd be happy to pay for you to keep taking lessons." Like many children of my gener- ation, I was on the sideline of fami- ly decisions, the carousel of divorc- es and moves, and being what people like Connie Chung dubbed "latchkey kids." These were the 80s and 90s, when all the kids were free-range. If you locked yourself out- side by forgetting or los- ing your key, there was no cell phone to call your mother. If there had been, you wouldn't have called anyway; you'd lose your behind if you took her off her place on the Ty- son chicken factory line and caused her to potentially be fired. You could either wait, or, in the case of the time I had to pee, convince your younger sister to stand on your shoulders as you pushed her through the small upper window of the laun- dry room, and then try to bend the frame of the wire mesh screen back into place. ( When my mother noticed the bent mesh a week later, my sister and I looked at each other, but didn't tell her it was our fault. We actually thought it was better to let her believe an intruder had tried to break into our home. That led to a lecture on how im- portant it was for us to keep locking the door on our way out). When we moved back to Indiana, I was editor of the North Posey High School newspaper when our teach- er Mrs. Craft invited columnist Gar- rett Matthews to our class to talk— the first journalist I'd met in person. The man was leagues away from Connie Chung, in fact, not even real- ly on par to my mind with the up-and- coming Matt Lauer. Matthews mostly