When I was in college, I worked at a restaurant where the manager was a tyrant. On any given night, the scene in the galley would include Tom yelling at someone and that someone either yelling back, ignoring Tom or slinking away in tears.
During that time, I probably did more reading that I could ever dream of doing now, and in the course of that reading, I found a nugget of truth that I've quoted many times since.
I so loved this nugget that I wrote it boldly on a piece of cardstock, puncuated it with a smiley face, and tacked it above the window where the chef passed the food to the servers.
As soon as Tom saw it, he snatched it from its prominent location and tossed it in the trash.
The phrase was "Behavior breeds behavior."
Tom knew that his grumpiness and impatience caused grumpiness and impatience among his staff, but he didn't want anyone else to know. He seemed to prefer being bossy and nasty.
His bossiness eventually closed the doors of the restaurant for good.
I've been reminded of my favorite phrase quite often today. I awoke this morning to find that my voice was completely gone. I can barely raise it to a whisper.
This isn't the first time this has happened. I seem to lose my voice around this time every year. Twice I've lost my voice just after being asked to do a radio interview.
Losing my voice always causes me to take pause. It makes me realize how much I use--and abuse--this tool that God gave me. Rather than wishing my voice would come back, I sometimes wish it wouldn't. I've often believed that if I could be a quieter person, my kids would also be quieter people. I don't seem to be able to force this in myself, but when laryngitis strikes, I see that it's likely true.
Because the interesting thing about voice loss is that when I whisper to my family, they whisper back. Sometimes they do it to be silly. But sometimes they do it without even realizing that they're doing it.
Losing my voice tends to take away the things that most offend me about myself; yelling, responding with a sharp tone, calling for people from other rooms or from the other side of the house, being quick to speak instead of quick to act.
So, while I do appreciate my voice, I think it might be nice to lose it for a longer period of time--say, about three months. Long enough to establish new habits and patterns that I could retain after my voice returned. And if God felt that I was straying from those habits, He could take my voice away again until I straightened up.
I doubt that I have months to be voiceless, though. It's likely only days. But in that time, I'm enjoying the fact that I don't have to answer the phone, that people have to come and find me instead of hollering for me and expecting me to holler back, and that I can justify e-mailing instead of phoning.
For just this brief period of time, I get a chance to see what it's like to be a quiet person, and how that behavior can breed quiet behavior in others. And I like it. I hope I can figure out a way to make the behavior stick even after the vocal chords have healed.
Here's to peace and quiet, whatever it takes to get it.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Two Days of Anniversary
Thursday night, Bo informed me that he had taken Friday off work so that he and I could begin celebrating our seventeenth anniversary. I was so thrilled and surprised! The bummer was that I didn't really know what I wanted to do, and neither did he. We're low on cash, so there really weren't a lot of options.
After a bit of thinking, I decided what I wanted to do. I told him that I wanted to go into the Big City and shop for a hand-crank pasta maker. Bo works in the Big City, and since his boss was under a little bit of stress, we decided that he could take part of his vacation day and go get some phone calls made while I did a little bit of shopping, then we would meet back up and do some more shopping together.
So, I awoke Friday morning to meet my walking buddy. We decided to do our Couch Potato to 5K routine, alternating 60 seconds of running with 90 seconds of walking. Because I'm a wimp, we've modified it to 60 seconds of jogging and enough walking to regain consciousness. Kim has so much more endurance than I do, but I'll get there eventually. We did the whole session, eight reps of jogging with walking in-between. I can't say that it was fun, but it did feel good, and I hope we can progress to week two before long.
After jogging, I hit my favorite thrift store, because I like to and because a friend who volunteers there had informed me that she had something for me. I found a new pair of rollerblades for Monet and a couple of other small things for The Baby, and when I got to the counter, I discovered that my checkbook was gone. Bo had taken it out to use and I'd forgotten. My friend stepped in and saved the day, paying for my purchase. She's my goat-grain supplier, so I'll repay her when I pick up goat grain on Monday.
When I'd recovered from the embarrassment of not having my checkbook, my friend directed me to the back of the building, where her car was parked. There, she unloaded a large box of beef for our family! I was so thrilled. Meat is a rarity in our house; I really only buy it on special occasions. She said that her family had been blessed with excess and decided to share. What a blessing! She also gave me several loaves of my favorite bread as well as dozens and dozens of eggs (pasta!). I love how the Lord provides!
I stopped at the library to pick up books on pasta and pizza, my two current obsessions, and headed home. Once there, I did some bedroom cleanup, wrote a blog post or two, then Bo and I took our trip to The Big City, which is about an hour from us.
While Bo worked, I abandonned my idea of shopping and read for a while instead. Then I fell asleep. After a nice nap, I was refreshed. And hungry. So we went to eat--where else?--at our favorite Italian restaurant. This, my dear readers, is a very rare and wonderful treat that I do not take lightly. Only on anniversaries and children's 16th birthdays do we indulge such. It was wonderful, but, if I may be so bold, I do still prefer home-cooking. As long as someone else cleans up the mess. :-)
The rest of the evening was spent in pursuit of a pasta maker that never materialized. I was, however, able to score two very well-priced Playmobil toys for The Baby's birthday, which is fast approaching.
*******************************
This morning, we woke everyone but Houdin, who is not feeling well, and The Baby, who isn't the best walking partner, and we hit the trail. Monet and Sweetheart roller-bladed while Bo, Bard and I walked. I have made an unspeakable deal with Bard in exchange for her walking with me every time I ask, without complaining, for six months. I think she'll do it. And I think she'll like it. :-)
Another quick trip to the library, another quick trip to the thrift store (to donate, this time), and a pitstop at the store for a few essentials--fruit, paper products, etc--and then it was on to our favorite dairy for fresh, raw milk. I've been making yogurt almost daily using delicious whole jersey milk, so thick and creamy that we'll never go back to Dannon! Almost as good as Stonyfield, but without the cream on top (how *do* they do that?). Home to refrigerate the milk, and then off to a couple of shops in town to check for pasta makers.
The first shop had just about everything else--ravioli molds, spaetzle makers, electric pasta makers--but no hand-cranked pasta maker.
The second shop...SUCCESS! After searching SEVEN different stores, we finally found a store just fifteen minutes from our home that stocks three different top brands of pasta makers, accessories and attachments. But the prices were quite high, so I opted to check online.
Home again home again, and we decided to tackle cleaning our fruit cellar and basement laundry room. They were HORRIBLE! They're much better now, but not done. Still, we were able to burn a bunch of boxes/paper/paper products, and we hauled a large bag of recycleables out of the house. It was a nice opportunity to get a bite to eat, so we rounded out our two-day celebration with a sandwich and onion rings (now I'll have to run some more) and headed for home.
Regular family chaos ensued, and now everyone lies sleeping but I'm still awake. Even though my husband was the one who indulged in late-evening coffee. Go figure.
Sunday school comes early, so I'll sign off, go check my yogurt, and try to hit the hay.
It's been a good couple of days.
After a bit of thinking, I decided what I wanted to do. I told him that I wanted to go into the Big City and shop for a hand-crank pasta maker. Bo works in the Big City, and since his boss was under a little bit of stress, we decided that he could take part of his vacation day and go get some phone calls made while I did a little bit of shopping, then we would meet back up and do some more shopping together.
So, I awoke Friday morning to meet my walking buddy. We decided to do our Couch Potato to 5K routine, alternating 60 seconds of running with 90 seconds of walking. Because I'm a wimp, we've modified it to 60 seconds of jogging and enough walking to regain consciousness. Kim has so much more endurance than I do, but I'll get there eventually. We did the whole session, eight reps of jogging with walking in-between. I can't say that it was fun, but it did feel good, and I hope we can progress to week two before long.
After jogging, I hit my favorite thrift store, because I like to and because a friend who volunteers there had informed me that she had something for me. I found a new pair of rollerblades for Monet and a couple of other small things for The Baby, and when I got to the counter, I discovered that my checkbook was gone. Bo had taken it out to use and I'd forgotten. My friend stepped in and saved the day, paying for my purchase. She's my goat-grain supplier, so I'll repay her when I pick up goat grain on Monday.
When I'd recovered from the embarrassment of not having my checkbook, my friend directed me to the back of the building, where her car was parked. There, she unloaded a large box of beef for our family! I was so thrilled. Meat is a rarity in our house; I really only buy it on special occasions. She said that her family had been blessed with excess and decided to share. What a blessing! She also gave me several loaves of my favorite bread as well as dozens and dozens of eggs (pasta!). I love how the Lord provides!
I stopped at the library to pick up books on pasta and pizza, my two current obsessions, and headed home. Once there, I did some bedroom cleanup, wrote a blog post or two, then Bo and I took our trip to The Big City, which is about an hour from us.
While Bo worked, I abandonned my idea of shopping and read for a while instead. Then I fell asleep. After a nice nap, I was refreshed. And hungry. So we went to eat--where else?--at our favorite Italian restaurant. This, my dear readers, is a very rare and wonderful treat that I do not take lightly. Only on anniversaries and children's 16th birthdays do we indulge such. It was wonderful, but, if I may be so bold, I do still prefer home-cooking. As long as someone else cleans up the mess. :-)
The rest of the evening was spent in pursuit of a pasta maker that never materialized. I was, however, able to score two very well-priced Playmobil toys for The Baby's birthday, which is fast approaching.
*******************************
This morning, we woke everyone but Houdin, who is not feeling well, and The Baby, who isn't the best walking partner, and we hit the trail. Monet and Sweetheart roller-bladed while Bo, Bard and I walked. I have made an unspeakable deal with Bard in exchange for her walking with me every time I ask, without complaining, for six months. I think she'll do it. And I think she'll like it. :-)
Another quick trip to the library, another quick trip to the thrift store (to donate, this time), and a pitstop at the store for a few essentials--fruit, paper products, etc--and then it was on to our favorite dairy for fresh, raw milk. I've been making yogurt almost daily using delicious whole jersey milk, so thick and creamy that we'll never go back to Dannon! Almost as good as Stonyfield, but without the cream on top (how *do* they do that?). Home to refrigerate the milk, and then off to a couple of shops in town to check for pasta makers.
The first shop had just about everything else--ravioli molds, spaetzle makers, electric pasta makers--but no hand-cranked pasta maker.
The second shop...SUCCESS! After searching SEVEN different stores, we finally found a store just fifteen minutes from our home that stocks three different top brands of pasta makers, accessories and attachments. But the prices were quite high, so I opted to check online.
Home again home again, and we decided to tackle cleaning our fruit cellar and basement laundry room. They were HORRIBLE! They're much better now, but not done. Still, we were able to burn a bunch of boxes/paper/paper products, and we hauled a large bag of recycleables out of the house. It was a nice opportunity to get a bite to eat, so we rounded out our two-day celebration with a sandwich and onion rings (now I'll have to run some more) and headed for home.
Regular family chaos ensued, and now everyone lies sleeping but I'm still awake. Even though my husband was the one who indulged in late-evening coffee. Go figure.
Sunday school comes early, so I'll sign off, go check my yogurt, and try to hit the hay.
It's been a good couple of days.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
::: happy seventeen years of wedded blisters :::
Yesterday was a pretty good day, and today wasn't so bad, either.I'm celebrating my anniversary, you see. At least for another twenty-eight minutes. Even though my dearest one is snoring loudly beside me, I'm still delighting in the fact that, seventeen years ago today, my best friend came to spend the night, every night, for the rest of our lives.
You wait for me while I shop. Patiently, you wait; resting in the car or sitting on a park bench or playing solitaire on that jazzy little phone you have. You wait for me.
You laugh with me. I make self-deprecating jokes, and you puff me up with your laughter. I make you-deprecating jokes, and you laugh just as loudly. I love that laugh, that smile, with the deep dimples you so generously shared with our youngest daughter. I love that you laugh.
You spend time with me. Your first priority is always me, always being with me, always thinking of me first. Don't think I haven't noticed, because I have. It only looks like I don't notice because you spoil me in that way, always giving your time so selflessly to me. I love spending my time with you.
You think I matter. You listen to my thoughts, and my opinions, and my worries, and my ideas. You don't ignore me or belittle me when I need to air my frustrations. You listen and you advise. You support and you uplift. You're my best counselor on this earth. I appreciate that I matter to you.
You teach me. I know nothing about things like football and molecules and algabraic equations, but you're willing to teach me. You tell me what first down and eight means, and I try very hard to understand, because what is important to you is important to me.
You indulge me. You know that I want a pasta maker so you spend a whole afternoon and a whole 'nother evening shopping with me, until we find the very perfect one, and even when you're completely bored and totally sick of the whole idea, you still advise me. And when I realize that the one I want is just too expensive, you explore eBay and call to me to show me what you've found. You care, so you indulge me.
You like my food. You were the reason I learned to cook. I hadn't cooked a real meal before I started dating you, and when I realized that we weren't going to have money for dates, I decided that I would woo you with my food, and I bought my very first cookbook. I made you bread and pepper steak and chicken cordon bleu and pot pies and stuffed tomatoes and vegetable grinders and french fries and anything else I could think to cook. And you loved it. It makes it so much more fun to cook, because I know that you will gratefully devour what I've made for you, and you'll tell me how it can be better, or that it's just perfect. I could stand in the kitchen all day cooking just to hear your satisfied approval. You let me feed you, and that feeds me.
You cuddle me. I remember the time, when we were dating, that you fell asleep on my couch while I took that terribly agonizing phone call, and when it was over, I needed your hug, so I curled up next to you, and without even waking, you opened your arms and pulled me close to you, gave me security and encouragement, even while you slept. I'll never forget that.
You talk to me. From the very beginning, when we were just kids gabbing on the phone, I knew that you and I were two of a kind, people who loved to converse, to pick each other's brains and share ideas. When we started dating in college, that whole experience came flooding back, talking on the phone from dusk to dawn, knowing that you'd fallen asleep on the phone, listening to you breathing, waiting for your alarm to startle you awake. Hours and hours of discussions about religion, faith, belief, music, love, relationships, the future, the past. And it continues still. My favorite pasttime is talking with you, planning with you, dreaming with you, working things out and solving the world's problems with you. I love how you talk to me.
You tolerate me. And all of my wacky ideas, and all of my animals, and all of my eccentricities. When I have an idea that's completely and totally wrong, you don't (always) discourage me. You let me pursue it, let it run its course. And you never, ever, ever say, "I told you so." You're so tolerant of me.
You appreciate nature with me. You stop to look at the stars. You call me to the window to see the hawk. You stroll with me to check the bluebird houses that you built with the kids. You marvel at the sunrise and the sunset. You laugh at the goats, talk to the cats, cuddle the dogs, feed them all. I will always remember the day that I was trying to decide whether we should destroy all the clover in the yard, because I thought that maybe I needed a "barefoot" lawn that the kids could run around on without worrying about the bees. I didn't really want to do it, but I was feeling the pressure to "look good" and thought that I should plant a real lawn with real grass. You called me to the porch to see something you described as "amazing," something you really thought I needed to see. And though I was busy, I stopped to come look. The entire lawn was covered with tiny little frittilaries, hundreds and hundreds of them, alighting on the clover before they continued their journey to who-knows-where. We kept the clover.
You encourage me. When I have an idea or a goal or a dream, you tell me to pursue it. You help me, give me ideas, get lost in the dream with me. Whether it's a coffeehouse, or a houseconcert series, or a book idea, or a blog, you give me the courage and cooperation to pursue it.
You desire me. I know that I get embarrassed and often reject your compliments, but I honestly appreciate how you tell me that I'm beautiful, and you reach out to hug me, and you kiss my face, and you compliment me, and you oggle me. I've had a problem with my appearance for so long that your words are hard to believe, difficult to accept, but I'm working on it. And I'm finally getting to the place where I can believe that, even if no one else thinks so, you think I'm beautiful. Thank you for desiring me.
Of course there's more. But I have to save some for the next seventeen years.
Here's to you, and to us. We've known each other longer than we haven't. We've been married almost half as long as I've been alive.
Happy seventeenth anniversary, Bo. I love you very, very much and can't imagine life without my very best friend.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Time to Cook: Introducing a New Blog!
I should take showers more often.
After a day of feeling pretty yucky and under-the-weather, I took a shower so that I could head out to the grocery store looking more like a human being than a monstah. While showering, I got an idea for a new blog.
Time to Cook.
Basically, it's about the basics. It's about slowing down and making meals from scratch, from good, basic ingredients.
It's about taking time to cook.
I'd love to see you there!
Time to Cook!
After a day of feeling pretty yucky and under-the-weather, I took a shower so that I could head out to the grocery store looking more like a human being than a monstah. While showering, I got an idea for a new blog.
Time to Cook.
Basically, it's about the basics. It's about slowing down and making meals from scratch, from good, basic ingredients.
It's about taking time to cook.
I'd love to see you there!
Time to Cook!
Yogurt!
I posted a short list of what I wanted for Christmas here, and my darling husband Bo read it. I'm happy to say that, out of the eleven things I listed, I'm a happy owner of four of them. One, the Asics shoes that were recommended to me by TrueVyne, were a gift to myself. I found a used pair on eBay for $24, including shipping, and the money went to a nature preserve in North Carolina. I've been very thankful for them. I think they're the first good pair of walking shoes I've ever had, and they really make a difference. Thanks, True!
The second gift I received was a membership to Feminists for Life of America. This was supposed to be a surprise, but Bo accidentally notified me a few days before Christmas. I'm looking forward to receiving the newsletters, which have always been interesting and challenging for me.
And the third gift from my list was candles. Two of my children gave me candles for Christmas and candle holders to go along with them.
The last gift from my list is probably my favorite, though the shoes are pretty close. On Christmas Day, PeacefulLady came for a visit, bringing with her a quart of homemade yogurt which was absolutely scrumptious. As we were discussing home-yogurt making, Bo confessed that he had also ordered the yogurt maker that I'd asked for which makes a quart of yogurt at a time. It came a few days later, and I've made four batches of yogurt since, thanks to PeacefulLady's yummy recipe, which I now impart to you. PL makes it in gallon batches, so I am including both the version I make, which makes one quart, and her version, which makes a gallon.
Quart Version:
1 quart of milk (I use whole raw cow's milk)
3 oz evaporated milk (which, I think, is a little less than 1/2 cup)
1/4-1/3 cup sweetener (I used 1/4 honey in one and 1/2 cup honey in one, and neither were super sweet. Today I used 1/3 cup sugar)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup yogurt which has live active cultures. PL says it doesn't matter if it's plain or vanilla. I've used both with the same results. Once you make your first batch, you can use yogurt from your own batches to keep it going until the cultures weaken, then you have to buy more.
(PL adds gelatin to hers, but I couldn't figure out the right ratio, so I left it out. Because we use whole jersey milk, it thickened just fine without the gelatin.)
Partially fill a sink with cold water and get all of your ingredients ready and measured. It goes quickly, so you want to be ready. Temperatures are very important for good yogurt.
For raw milk, heat the milk to 180 degrees F. I was hesitant to do this because I wanted the good health properties of the raw milk, but my first batch didn't come out so well. When I called PL, she said that heating it creates a creamier yogurt. I tried it, heating it to about 186, and she was right. Very creamy.
Turn of the heat.
Add the evaporated milk, sweetener and vanilla. Stir well.
Place your pan in the cold water and stir. Your goal is to quickly cool the milk to between 110 and 115 degrees. This happens more quickly than you'd think.
When the milk has cooled, add the yogurt using a very clean whisk. Bad bacteria can take over and make your yogurt clumpy and yucky. Very thoroughly mix in the yogurt.
Pour the mix into a quart jar or yogurt maker.
This is the tricky part, and this is why I asked for the yogurt maker. The yogurt must incubate for between 4 and 10 hours at around 100 degrees. Too hot, and you'll cook the yogurt. Too cool and it won't incubate properly. Some people fill a cooler with hot water, place their jars or containers in it and leave it alone until it sets.
Don't touch it. Don't open it. Wait for about four hours, then very carefully check it. If it seems thickened and creamy, you can taste it to see if it's tart enough. If it is, put it in the fridge until it's cool, then you're done!
Add fruit and stuff after it's done.
One Gallon version (makes five quarts):
One gallon of milk
2 T gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
12 oz can evaporated milk
1 1/4 cup sugar or 1 cup honey
2 t vanilla
1 cup yogurt with active cultures
Follow instructions above, except that you should dissolve the gelatin in the water before you start, if you plan to use it. Add the gelatin when you add the milk, sweetener and vanilla. Follow the rest of the directions, pouring your mixture into five quart jars or containers (doesn't matter if it's glass or plastic, just as long as their really, really clean).
90-120 degrees makes yogurt, so keep your temp within the range. I think around 90-95 is optimal.
Enjoy!
The second gift I received was a membership to Feminists for Life of America. This was supposed to be a surprise, but Bo accidentally notified me a few days before Christmas. I'm looking forward to receiving the newsletters, which have always been interesting and challenging for me.
And the third gift from my list was candles. Two of my children gave me candles for Christmas and candle holders to go along with them.
The last gift from my list is probably my favorite, though the shoes are pretty close. On Christmas Day, PeacefulLady came for a visit, bringing with her a quart of homemade yogurt which was absolutely scrumptious. As we were discussing home-yogurt making, Bo confessed that he had also ordered the yogurt maker that I'd asked for which makes a quart of yogurt at a time. It came a few days later, and I've made four batches of yogurt since, thanks to PeacefulLady's yummy recipe, which I now impart to you. PL makes it in gallon batches, so I am including both the version I make, which makes one quart, and her version, which makes a gallon.
Quart Version:
1 quart of milk (I use whole raw cow's milk)
3 oz evaporated milk (which, I think, is a little less than 1/2 cup)
1/4-1/3 cup sweetener (I used 1/4 honey in one and 1/2 cup honey in one, and neither were super sweet. Today I used 1/3 cup sugar)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup yogurt which has live active cultures. PL says it doesn't matter if it's plain or vanilla. I've used both with the same results. Once you make your first batch, you can use yogurt from your own batches to keep it going until the cultures weaken, then you have to buy more.
(PL adds gelatin to hers, but I couldn't figure out the right ratio, so I left it out. Because we use whole jersey milk, it thickened just fine without the gelatin.)
Partially fill a sink with cold water and get all of your ingredients ready and measured. It goes quickly, so you want to be ready. Temperatures are very important for good yogurt.
For raw milk, heat the milk to 180 degrees F. I was hesitant to do this because I wanted the good health properties of the raw milk, but my first batch didn't come out so well. When I called PL, she said that heating it creates a creamier yogurt. I tried it, heating it to about 186, and she was right. Very creamy.
Turn of the heat.
Add the evaporated milk, sweetener and vanilla. Stir well.
Place your pan in the cold water and stir. Your goal is to quickly cool the milk to between 110 and 115 degrees. This happens more quickly than you'd think.
When the milk has cooled, add the yogurt using a very clean whisk. Bad bacteria can take over and make your yogurt clumpy and yucky. Very thoroughly mix in the yogurt.
Pour the mix into a quart jar or yogurt maker.
This is the tricky part, and this is why I asked for the yogurt maker. The yogurt must incubate for between 4 and 10 hours at around 100 degrees. Too hot, and you'll cook the yogurt. Too cool and it won't incubate properly. Some people fill a cooler with hot water, place their jars or containers in it and leave it alone until it sets.
Don't touch it. Don't open it. Wait for about four hours, then very carefully check it. If it seems thickened and creamy, you can taste it to see if it's tart enough. If it is, put it in the fridge until it's cool, then you're done!
Add fruit and stuff after it's done.
One Gallon version (makes five quarts):
One gallon of milk
2 T gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
12 oz can evaporated milk
1 1/4 cup sugar or 1 cup honey
2 t vanilla
1 cup yogurt with active cultures
Follow instructions above, except that you should dissolve the gelatin in the water before you start, if you plan to use it. Add the gelatin when you add the milk, sweetener and vanilla. Follow the rest of the directions, pouring your mixture into five quart jars or containers (doesn't matter if it's glass or plastic, just as long as their really, really clean).
90-120 degrees makes yogurt, so keep your temp within the range. I think around 90-95 is optimal.
Enjoy!
Monday, January 01, 2007
Did I Write That?
Per Dawn at 4:53 am, I'm posting the first line of the first post of each month of 2006. It's funny, because when I peruse some of the thousand or more posts I've written in my almost four years of blogging, I sometimes don't even recognize my own posts. I recognize the thoughts and agree with them, as I would agree with someone who has similar tastes and interests as I, but I often find myself reading my prior posts as if I were reading someone else's blog.
That's how I felt reading these first lines of the posts of my year. And I also felt like some of them couldn't have been that long ago. And some of them couldn't have been written that recently!
Wanna play along? Let Dawn know. Leave me a comment, too. I'd like to read your first lines!
January: "Bard's choral ensemble sang at a nearby community's First Night celebration on Saturday."
February: "I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately, and I was just wondering what the rest of the world thinks about friendship."
March: "I got this from Kate at The Tate School."
April: "We just had the most yummy lunch, and as we were eating, I was struck by the beauty of the scene, The Baby still in her pajamas eating cauliflower, my favorite earthenware bowls, tall glasses of raw milk, my healthy family all around me."
May: "I was so excited about my prospective employment at the greenhouse; to me, it was like a gift from God, an answer to prayer."
June: "I'm alive."
July: "Today, I am lying around decadently devouring books that I never get to read, dreaming about starting an herb-farm business, staring solemnly at the ceiling and pondering the wonder of God."
August: "On this day, when it's too hot to do much more than think--and even that's a challenge--I did something so totally wild and crazy that even I can't believe I did it."
September: "On Thursday, I saw an ad for an i-pod accessory that Bard has been wanting."
October: "My darling husband just pointed me to these illustrations by Deas."
November: "A couple of people asked me whose life I'd saved as a result of this post."
December: "When I looked out the window this morning, I knew I was going to have to make a choice. "
That's how I felt reading these first lines of the posts of my year. And I also felt like some of them couldn't have been that long ago. And some of them couldn't have been written that recently!
Wanna play along? Let Dawn know. Leave me a comment, too. I'd like to read your first lines!
January: "Bard's choral ensemble sang at a nearby community's First Night celebration on Saturday."
February: "I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately, and I was just wondering what the rest of the world thinks about friendship."
March: "I got this from Kate at The Tate School."
April: "We just had the most yummy lunch, and as we were eating, I was struck by the beauty of the scene, The Baby still in her pajamas eating cauliflower, my favorite earthenware bowls, tall glasses of raw milk, my healthy family all around me."
May: "I was so excited about my prospective employment at the greenhouse; to me, it was like a gift from God, an answer to prayer."
June: "I'm alive."
July: "Today, I am lying around decadently devouring books that I never get to read, dreaming about starting an herb-farm business, staring solemnly at the ceiling and pondering the wonder of God."
August: "On this day, when it's too hot to do much more than think--and even that's a challenge--I did something so totally wild and crazy that even I can't believe I did it."
September: "On Thursday, I saw an ad for an i-pod accessory that Bard has been wanting."
October: "My darling husband just pointed me to these illustrations by Deas."
November: "A couple of people asked me whose life I'd saved as a result of this post."
December: "When I looked out the window this morning, I knew I was going to have to make a choice. "
To Aspire to...
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
when there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand,
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying [to ourselves] that we are born to eternal life.
St Francis of Assisi
As posted by Donna over at Quiet Life. Very, very good words, indeed. Happy Blogiversary, Ms Booshay.
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
when there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand,
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying [to ourselves] that we are born to eternal life.
St Francis of Assisi
As posted by Donna over at Quiet Life. Very, very good words, indeed. Happy Blogiversary, Ms Booshay.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Prayers for Peace, please
Please pray for peace in our family. Today, there is so much anger, disappointment, hurt, selfishness and impatience that no one is happy.
Thank you for your prayers.
Thank you for your prayers.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Simple Snack
These easy little pretzel treats look very fun to make and very yummy to eat. If you have a New Year's Eve party to attend and don't know what to make, this might just be the last-minute thing!
A Cheap Profitable Date
Go on a date, get free pizza, and get paid twenty bucks. How cool is that?
I, for one, thought it was pretty cool.
See, every weekend, Bo and I try to decide what we'll do for a date. We generally end up going to a movie and out to dinner where we either share a meal or eat cheap. Then we wander around the Bigger City, which is about 25 miles away, and try to figure out what else we can do with our time together. Then we spend a half-hour trudging through Stuf*Mart discovering things we didn't know we needed.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran into a neighbor while coming out of the library. Don't worry; he was fine. During the course of our very enjoyable conversation, he told me about his part-time job--delivering pizzas. He said that he and his family go out on Saturday nights and deliver pizzas for a local independent pizza shop. He also told me how much they make a night. He said he enjoys it, that he and his wife or one of his kids will take the evening and drive around, spending time together, listening to books on CD (or maybe I'm embellishing here. Maybe I just thought that would be a good idea), and they make their hourly wage, plus mileage, plus tips, plus half-price food.
So I asked him to put in a good word for us, and, soon enough, I got a phone call from the pizza guy.
Tonight, Bo and I went in to the pizza place to get acquainted with the system and we ended up delivering pizzas for the evening. At one point, it started to get a little stressful because of the tip situation. While the Amish may be great at barnraising and baking, they are not good tippers. Some of them aren't tippers at all. So, while we had to search pretty hard to find some of their houses (the addresses weren't posted on their houses and some of them have more than one house on a lane) and several of them had six or more pizzas, totalling over $100, only two of them actually tipped us. For about ten deliveries, we made exactly three dollars and fifty cents in tips. And the Amish make up about 95% of the pizza shop's business.
Still, when we took into account the three pizzas that we got for half-price and how we would have driven the same distance tonight in order to spend money on pizza and a movie, it really started to sound appealing. We were done in three hours, had three pizzas to show for it, and had twenty bucks on top of it. Plus, we got to listen to a book-on-iPod while we drove.
We have plans to deliver a few more weekend-nights. The other employees said it was a slow night because of a couple of basketball games and being the New Year's Eve weekend. But it went pretty quickly for me.
I may even use it for an incentive when we start lessons back up. Do all of your schoolwork and chores, and you get to help deliver pizza.
You might even get to keep the tips. All three dollars and fifty cents of it.
I, for one, thought it was pretty cool.
See, every weekend, Bo and I try to decide what we'll do for a date. We generally end up going to a movie and out to dinner where we either share a meal or eat cheap. Then we wander around the Bigger City, which is about 25 miles away, and try to figure out what else we can do with our time together. Then we spend a half-hour trudging through Stuf*Mart discovering things we didn't know we needed.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran into a neighbor while coming out of the library. Don't worry; he was fine. During the course of our very enjoyable conversation, he told me about his part-time job--delivering pizzas. He said that he and his family go out on Saturday nights and deliver pizzas for a local independent pizza shop. He also told me how much they make a night. He said he enjoys it, that he and his wife or one of his kids will take the evening and drive around, spending time together, listening to books on CD (or maybe I'm embellishing here. Maybe I just thought that would be a good idea), and they make their hourly wage, plus mileage, plus tips, plus half-price food.
So I asked him to put in a good word for us, and, soon enough, I got a phone call from the pizza guy.
Tonight, Bo and I went in to the pizza place to get acquainted with the system and we ended up delivering pizzas for the evening. At one point, it started to get a little stressful because of the tip situation. While the Amish may be great at barnraising and baking, they are not good tippers. Some of them aren't tippers at all. So, while we had to search pretty hard to find some of their houses (the addresses weren't posted on their houses and some of them have more than one house on a lane) and several of them had six or more pizzas, totalling over $100, only two of them actually tipped us. For about ten deliveries, we made exactly three dollars and fifty cents in tips. And the Amish make up about 95% of the pizza shop's business.
Still, when we took into account the three pizzas that we got for half-price and how we would have driven the same distance tonight in order to spend money on pizza and a movie, it really started to sound appealing. We were done in three hours, had three pizzas to show for it, and had twenty bucks on top of it. Plus, we got to listen to a book-on-iPod while we drove.
We have plans to deliver a few more weekend-nights. The other employees said it was a slow night because of a couple of basketball games and being the New Year's Eve weekend. But it went pretty quickly for me.
I may even use it for an incentive when we start lessons back up. Do all of your schoolwork and chores, and you get to help deliver pizza.
You might even get to keep the tips. All three dollars and fifty cents of it.
::: the attack of sweet tooth :::
Every year for Christmas, all of the kind people in our whole neighborhood distribute plates of home-baked goodies to each other. Because the majority of my neighbors are Amish, we have some absolutely amazing baked goods on Christmas day and before, and plenty of them.Beginning a few days before Christmas, they come. They walk up the driveway in their plain clothes, men in black hats or stocking-caps worn way up high on their heads, women in their white bonnets, strings dangling over their shoulders, and they bear plates full of home-baked pies, sugar cookies, thumbprints, Buckeyes, chocolate chip, snack mixes, pretzel clusters, chocolate-dipped Oreos...the list goes on. They bring them early so that folks can serve them on Christmas day.
Though my intentions are always good, I tend to bring up the rear. We pretty consistently deliver our gifts on Christmas Eve or, more often, the days following Christmas. For me, I guess, that extends the season a bit, gives folks something they can savor after all of the other stuff has run out. Sounds like a good marketing strategy, doesn't it? It's not all that intentional. It's actually justification for my being too busy to get it all done. What am I usually busy doing?
Why, baking, of course.
The explanation of where all that baking goes is simple. I have a dishonest, unrelentless sweets addict in my house who will devour anything that is not totally and completely hidden, locked-up or removed from the premises, and, furthermore, will stop at practically nothing find and consume the sweets.
My father, who lives with us, is notorious for eating sweets in large quanitities. The kids tell the story of how they locked their holiday candy into a little locker. He literally ran over it with the car to get it open. They go to great lengths to secure their goodies, but he always finds them somehow, and gets all angry and self-defensive when he's discovered. The kids have actually created a comic strip series where he is the bad guy, Sweet Tooth, and they are doing their best to prevent him from doing his dastardly deeds. When I bake cookies or make candies, buy cookies or candies, they must be completely secured, or they will, definitely, be gone. Ice cream doesn't stand a chance. Since I don't have a freezer with a lock, I must buy ice cream in massive quantities if we expect to have any. Last year, there was a sale on Breyers--$2 a half-gallon--and I bought about twelve half-gallons. Before I knew it, he had eaten over half of it. He'll consume a half-gallon in one night during a series of midnight snacks. It doesn't matter how I threaten or beg. It doesn't matter if I guilt or coerce. It doesn't matter if his blood pressure is up or his cholesterol is high. He'll just take a new medication to fix it. And, since he rides a bicycle ever day for 20-30 miles, his body doesn't look any worse for the wear (though, at a little over 60, all of his teeth literally rotted and fell out and he had to have very expensive dentures made last year). He has a sick addiction. And what's worse, if the goodies are forbidden, that's even better. If I buy him a sack of candy just for himself, he will hardly touch it. He'll give it all away to the children. But if the children get an Easter basket full of goodies, he'll have them gone before you can say Peter Rabbit.
This year, I made dozens and dozens of cookies, several kinds of shortbreads, hand-dipped Buckeyes, and a batch of vanilla caramels that had to be boiled to the right temperature, cooled for several hours, cuts into bite-sized pieces, and wrapped in little hand-cut squares of wax paper. These last little treats were placed in a grocery bag and hidden deep in the confines of my closet. All of the other goodies were consumed almost as quickly as I could make them. If they weren't hidden well enough, they would become part of a midnight snack, which I would not realize had occured until it was time to break them out to make the gift plates. This is a struggle every year, for every holiday, and during every baking session.
One evening, two of my former co-workers from the cheesehouse came by and brought us dinner. It was such a lovely thought and such a delicious dinner, and I was so glad to have them here, that I decided to show my appreciation by breaking out the caramels and giving them each a few. Goodbyes were said. Hugs were given. Greetings of the season were tossed over shoulders as they headed out the door. And I, in the busyness of it all, forgot to confine the caramels.
When it was time to make the goody plates, the entire bag-- several pounds of hand-wrapped caramels--were completely gone.
You would think I would learn. Because this, my friends, is not the first time this has happened.
Several years ago, during the Christmas of 2000, the kids and I made a half-dozen batches of caramels and hand-pulled molasses taffy. We wrapped them each in their little wax paper blankies. Our plan was to make up plates for all of our friends and neighbors (we lived in the city at the time) and go caroling. I never would have dreamed that all of those candies, probably ten to twelve pounds in all, would have disappeared. Yet when I went to take them from the cupboard, they were all gone. Every last one of them. When I asked the sweets thief about them, he confessed (which came as more of an announcement than a confession)to taking them with him to work and distributing them to his co-workers.
He gave our caramels away to people I don't even know. Without asking. All that work and time and hope was gone.
When I reminded him of this after his last caramel-scarfing episode, he didn't remember that at all. Or, more accurately, he pretended not to remember.
Because that's his other maddening trait. He pretends he didn't do it. He pretends to forget he did it. Or, with a terribly annoying smirk on his face, he blames it on The Baby (or whichever child happens to be the baby at the time). Or the dog. Or a burglar. Or the potbellied pig.
I don't know why this gets under my skin so much, but it does. It absolutely infuriates me. I feel my heart begin to race, and I feel my temper flare, and I feel I have no control, and I lose it. I say the most angry things to my dad. I guess, mostly, because I know how much work it took to make those things, or how, when I or the kids get candy as a gift, we savor it, keep it for when we really want it, and he doesn't. It doesn't mean anything to him. The time doesn't mean anything. The effort and care doesn't mean anything. It's just sugar. And there's never enough. He just scarfs it down with no apology and no compassion. Just lame jokes and a stupid smirk.
So, with all of the pre-holiday cookies being devoured as quickly as I could bake them, and all of the caramels and Buckeyes stolen by the despicable candy thief, I arose early on the day after Christmas and baked. And baked. And baked. And baked. And I stood watch over every cookie and every piece of toffee and every little peanut butter cup-- feeling guilty for being a greedy, selfish, ungrateful daughter (his indignant comments certainly never help)-- until the goodies were safely arranged on plates, sealed into baggies and shuttled to our car. Then Bo and I delivered each treat to the kind, thoughtful neighbors who had delivered their treats to us a week before. Only then was I able to relax.
Well, except for the nagging guilt that is mine as the daughter of a manipulator.
Today, I will bake several batches of Tasha Tudor cutout cookies, and I will place them on a big, important-looking plate. I will not stand guard. I will not offer them (because he won't touch them if I do).
I will just leave them sitting unattended and say nothing.
It's my feeble offering to the guilt gods.
Early Morning Sunrises
Winter gives us the most beautiful sunrises here on the hilltop. It's shortly after 7 here, and I had to push back my computer cabinet door to see outside the window. I wish I had a digital camera sho I could show you. From the third floor of our house, I have a view of the treetops, the misty valley, the rolling hills, and little dots of light that glow from miles away. The dark jagged outline of distant trees contrasts with the grey-orange glow of the rising sun, the colors fading from that grey to a bit more orange, then to a most amazing orange that relects off of the contrails which are zig-zagging and expanding and filling the sky with interesting geometric shapes. And there's pink in there, too, and bits of gold. And they all dissolve into the graduating blues of the waking sky. When there's snow on the ground, which there currently isn't (yesterday felt like SPRING here!), everything glows with pinkness, somewhat like my banner above, but much more amazing than a photograph can capture.I was reflecting on my year this morning, thanks to some prodding from Donna over at Quiet Life and I felt like an real pessimist when she asked me to sum up my year in three words. My words? Very Financially Challenging.
Well, I'm sorry. But it has been.
I really wanted to be all happy-happy and find the fabulous things about my year that would show what a grateful and gracious person I am, but I couldn't. It has definitely been a very financially challenging year. Even now, the mortage is late, the taxes are way late, Bard's choir payments are way, way late, and the Christmas spirit is gone, so all of this is very real to me.
That's not to say that I'm NOT grateful for anything. Oh, yes indeedy, I am grateful. Sitting here watching this sunrise reminds me why the financial part is so difficult for me. I really love this house, this community, this hilltop. I feel at home here like I've never felt before. I don't want to lose it. The sunrise, and my view of it, is why all of the financial stuff even matters.
For that reason, our Christmas was a simple one. Yes, we did spend more money than we would during other seasons (except, maybe, the home-improvement season), but it was still very meager compared to others we know who bought large, high-dollar items for their families and purchased for everyone in their extended family (like we used to do, before we had five kids and a house). The majority of what we gave came from the thrift store. Hours of scanning the shelves for the right gift. Three huge bags of blocks for $1 a bag. Beanie Babies with tags for .25 each. Hand-embroidered pillowcases for .35 each. Pink Converse tennies for .75. Yet what did the kids say they liked the most? The new Playmobil toys and the new DVD. The high-ticket items. It's not their fault. They were among my favorite gifts, too. I guess the other things, like the big cotton quilt ($8), and the stacks of books (.25-.50 each), and the sweaters ($1 each) are just as loved, because they're using them every day. Houdin looks so nice in the mossy green sweater I bought him, and he snuggles under his quilt every night. Bard now has a fully-functioning computer in her room, one that works better than mine, thanks to my mother-in-law who scored some that were on their way out of the office. For free. Sweetheart carries that vintage leather purse around the house with everything from oranges to markers tucked inside. And Monet is loving the computer program that was installed on our computer. Those are fabulous gifts. Even though the kids don't list them as favorites, they are. They're quiet favorites. The kind of favorites a person just kind of takes for granted.
So maybe I should change what three words I use to describe my 2006. Maybe I should change it to Early Morning Sunrises. Those beautiful things that you take for granted every day, that keep you alive and warm and awake and moving, that you just know are going to always be there, like a fuzzy sweater or a cozy quilt, but they quietly take the back burner to the Bigger Looking, Noisier, In-Your-Face Things like taxes and mortgages and choir payments.
I see a little orange sphere climbing up above that jagged horizon now and little dashes of contrails lit up white, like a barely-visible thread of spider silk hanging from tree branch to tree branch. What an amazing orange that is. So bright and reliable, washing my whole bedroom in its pinkish-orange glow.
Early Morning Sunrises.
Friday, December 29, 2006
I quit
I keep telling Blogger Beta "Still Seems Like Beta to Me" to remember me, but I must have somehow offended it. No matter how many times I sign in, even if I JUST. SIGNED. IN. two minutes ago, it still doesn't recall who I am. Yet, like some insane person hoping for a different response, I have been clicking that little "Remember Me" box every single time I log in. And every single time, I hope that it will be the last time I have to type in my WHOLE Gmail address in order to post, or upload a photo, or change my settings. I'm no fool, Blogger Beta, I will not fall for this again.
And here's the other thing. What's going on with the photo features? I used to be able to upload photos and then customize my blog sidebar, header, whatever, using the URL of the uploaded photos. But no more. That's why The Baby no longer has her sweet face next to her bio in the sidebar. I tried to put a more recent photo there. BloggerBeta was just like, "Uh. No."
I don't think we're going to get along very well. This customizable blog isn't as customizable as it used to be, if you ask me.
For instance, I can't change my banner now. No new photo banner on my blog because, even though I know the URL is right, a little white box with a red square shows up whenever I try to include a new, nifty banner.
Does anyone have advice on how to get along better with my blog? Pretty please?
And here's the other thing. What's going on with the photo features? I used to be able to upload photos and then customize my blog sidebar, header, whatever, using the URL of the uploaded photos. But no more. That's why The Baby no longer has her sweet face next to her bio in the sidebar. I tried to put a more recent photo there. Blogger
I don't think we're going to get along very well. This customizable blog isn't as customizable as it used to be, if you ask me.
For instance, I can't change my banner now. No new photo banner on my blog because, even though I know the URL is right, a little white box with a red square shows up whenever I try to include a new, nifty banner.
Does anyone have advice on how to get along better with my blog? Pretty please?
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Christmas Morning
I don't know what woke me on Christmas morning, but my eyes popped wide open and I was alert. The only light was from the twinkling of the Christmas tree. All around me lay sleeping children, in chairs, on bean bags on the floor, at my feet. This is our Christmas Eve tradition: Everyone opens two gifts--their Christmas pajamas and a container of Pringles; everyone models their pajamas; everyone eats two or three Pringles, or the whole can; everyone drags their bedding to the room where the Christmas tree glows and we sleep there, beneath the tree. In years past, Bo and I have been awake until 3 a.m. wrapping gifts, but this year, Bo did all of the wrapping, which made me very, very pleased. I'm perfectly content to cook, and I can even force myself to clean, but I absolutely abhor wrapping packages.
So, this Christmas, we were finished with all Christmas preparations. Bo and Houdin both opted out of the sleeping-under-the-tree tradition, but The Baby took it quite seriously, moving all of the gifts that the children had so dutifully transported from my room to the skirt beneath the boughs of the tree, so that she could snuggle directly beneath it. That didn't last long, and soon she was curled up beside Sweetheart and I was reading from an anthology of Christmas stories. By 9 p.m., we were all asleep. Some slept soundly; some slept fitfully, but all slept until Christmas morning.
There I lay, with my eyes wide open. I peered toward the east, but there was not even a hint of a sunrise. Not even a faint glow. My bladder announced that it was time to rise, so I did, first visiting the powder room and then turning on the light in the kitchen. I squinted at the clock. Three in the morning. Shuffling back to the couch, I told my body and brain that they had no business being awake and they were to get back to sleep immediately. Like over-anxious children, they just couldn't do it. I remembered the advice my mother-in-law had once given me about how hormones affect sleep, and how, as she grew older, she would awake at odd hours--be completely and totally awake--and though she tried for a while to force herself back to bed, she finally decided to take advantage of the alertness and use the energy. She found that they were some of the most productive times she had.
I figured that there were things that needed doing before the rest of the family awoke, so I took my mother-in-law's advice and headed back to the kitchen.
Quiche for Christmas morning. That was the plan this year. In years past, we've done Monkey Bread, but it's not as nutritious or filling, so I planned to make my favorite quiche recipe instead, along with some fresh pineapple and orange juice. The pate brise was already in the fridge, so the first step was to brown the bacon, and then deeply saute the onions until they were golden brown. With the bacon sizzling on the stove, I was sure that the aroma would snake its way into someone's dreams and rouse them from sleep.
Sure enough, I heard stirring, heard the squeak of the powder room door, and, before long, there was Monet standing beside me, wrapping his arms around my body and saying, "Merry Christmas" and "Can I help you?"
Let me say that if I produce one real chef, one true culinary-school graduate, I will be satisfied. Out of all of my children so far, Monet and Houdin are the ones most likely to pursue this path. They watch Good Eats on DVD fairly regularly, a gift from Impromptu-Mom that has been one of the most valuable gifts we've ever received.
I welcomed eleven-year-old Monet into my kitchen and invited him to join me in the quiche-making experience. His current favorite pie, he says, is quiche, leaving apple pie and chicken pot pie in the dust. That's really saying something.
I taught him to roll out the pate brise, had him experience the perfection that is golden-brown onions--from the cutting and food-processing (which left him quite teary, but he bore it and plodded on) to the final moments of the forty-minute sauteing process, let him process the Gruyere--an expense that was not spared (there is no quiche cheese like Gruyere), and let him assemble one quiche on his own (though I grated the nutmeg). He was tortured with the smell of the baking quiche, his hunger having already kicked in at 4 a.m., but I encouraged him to eat a banana or some other yummy thing while he waited.
Before long, sixteen-year-old Bard stumbled into the room. Most days, Bard, who is a bohemian like her father, is just snuggling into her bed at this hour. I pray that she gets a night job, truly I do. She poked her head into the kitchen long enough to see what we were doing, realize the unGodly hour in which we were doing it, and crawl back under her covers.
The quiches were beautiful. I explained to Monet how they must be baked until they are just-set in the center, so he was able to remove them from the oven at just the right time, the crust golden and flaky, the eggs still damp and glossy.
It was still too early for the masses to arise, so Monet worked on his Flash cartoons, I cleaned out a few of my cupboards, did a couple of loads of dishes, and then, just in time for children to show their sleepy little faces, I remembered...the stockings hadn't been filled!
A mad rush ensued, the stockings were hung by the, um, er...window casings with care, and that's when, one by one, every member of the family, down to the very last sleepy-headed bohemian, made their appearance in the kitchen, some bouncing, some murmuring, some embracing me and each other with Christmas greetings.
Christmas day had truly begun.
So, this Christmas, we were finished with all Christmas preparations. Bo and Houdin both opted out of the sleeping-under-the-tree tradition, but The Baby took it quite seriously, moving all of the gifts that the children had so dutifully transported from my room to the skirt beneath the boughs of the tree, so that she could snuggle directly beneath it. That didn't last long, and soon she was curled up beside Sweetheart and I was reading from an anthology of Christmas stories. By 9 p.m., we were all asleep. Some slept soundly; some slept fitfully, but all slept until Christmas morning.
There I lay, with my eyes wide open. I peered toward the east, but there was not even a hint of a sunrise. Not even a faint glow. My bladder announced that it was time to rise, so I did, first visiting the powder room and then turning on the light in the kitchen. I squinted at the clock. Three in the morning. Shuffling back to the couch, I told my body and brain that they had no business being awake and they were to get back to sleep immediately. Like over-anxious children, they just couldn't do it. I remembered the advice my mother-in-law had once given me about how hormones affect sleep, and how, as she grew older, she would awake at odd hours--be completely and totally awake--and though she tried for a while to force herself back to bed, she finally decided to take advantage of the alertness and use the energy. She found that they were some of the most productive times she had.
I figured that there were things that needed doing before the rest of the family awoke, so I took my mother-in-law's advice and headed back to the kitchen.
Quiche for Christmas morning. That was the plan this year. In years past, we've done Monkey Bread, but it's not as nutritious or filling, so I planned to make my favorite quiche recipe instead, along with some fresh pineapple and orange juice. The pate brise was already in the fridge, so the first step was to brown the bacon, and then deeply saute the onions until they were golden brown. With the bacon sizzling on the stove, I was sure that the aroma would snake its way into someone's dreams and rouse them from sleep.
Sure enough, I heard stirring, heard the squeak of the powder room door, and, before long, there was Monet standing beside me, wrapping his arms around my body and saying, "Merry Christmas" and "Can I help you?"
Let me say that if I produce one real chef, one true culinary-school graduate, I will be satisfied. Out of all of my children so far, Monet and Houdin are the ones most likely to pursue this path. They watch Good Eats on DVD fairly regularly, a gift from Impromptu-Mom that has been one of the most valuable gifts we've ever received.
I welcomed eleven-year-old Monet into my kitchen and invited him to join me in the quiche-making experience. His current favorite pie, he says, is quiche, leaving apple pie and chicken pot pie in the dust. That's really saying something.
I taught him to roll out the pate brise, had him experience the perfection that is golden-brown onions--from the cutting and food-processing (which left him quite teary, but he bore it and plodded on) to the final moments of the forty-minute sauteing process, let him process the Gruyere--an expense that was not spared (there is no quiche cheese like Gruyere), and let him assemble one quiche on his own (though I grated the nutmeg). He was tortured with the smell of the baking quiche, his hunger having already kicked in at 4 a.m., but I encouraged him to eat a banana or some other yummy thing while he waited.
Before long, sixteen-year-old Bard stumbled into the room. Most days, Bard, who is a bohemian like her father, is just snuggling into her bed at this hour. I pray that she gets a night job, truly I do. She poked her head into the kitchen long enough to see what we were doing, realize the unGodly hour in which we were doing it, and crawl back under her covers.
The quiches were beautiful. I explained to Monet how they must be baked until they are just-set in the center, so he was able to remove them from the oven at just the right time, the crust golden and flaky, the eggs still damp and glossy.
It was still too early for the masses to arise, so Monet worked on his Flash cartoons, I cleaned out a few of my cupboards, did a couple of loads of dishes, and then, just in time for children to show their sleepy little faces, I remembered...the stockings hadn't been filled!
A mad rush ensued, the stockings were hung by the, um, er...window casings with care, and that's when, one by one, every member of the family, down to the very last sleepy-headed bohemian, made their appearance in the kitchen, some bouncing, some murmuring, some embracing me and each other with Christmas greetings.
Christmas day had truly begun.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Recovering
Today is a day of recovery. And extended holiday.
I absolutely crashed after the Christmas festivities. We all gathered around the basement television to watch Hitchiker's Guide and I fell soundly, though uncomfortably, asleep on the hard carpeted floor. When I awoke, the movie was almost over, and I shuffled off to bed. I didn't think I'd go back to sleep; it was still early. But I did sleep, and slept soundly until this morning. I think I had too much Christmas.
Today I did a few errands in the morning, then I came home and started some kitchen cleanup and baking. I decided to make some more shortbread, but this time using cornstarch for part of the flour. I haven't baked the dough yet, so I can't tell you how it worked. I'll let you know later.
I also added chocolate chips to one batch of the shortbread, and I made a batch of Millionaire Shortbread, which is cooling as I type. We ate leftover roast beef and turkey carcass soup for lunch and I made a batch of Grandma Jane's potato salad to keep us going through the week. Bo's off work tomorrow and Thursday, and tonight the children and I are going to a bargain movie to see Santa Claus III. I hope I'm not terribly disappointed. :-/
I have the after-Christmas-bad-attitude-blahs today. I just don't feel settled, and my body has had about enough standing, cooking, washing dishes, cleaning, and standing. Enough!
More about Christmas happenings when I return. For now, it's off to the theater.
I absolutely crashed after the Christmas festivities. We all gathered around the basement television to watch Hitchiker's Guide and I fell soundly, though uncomfortably, asleep on the hard carpeted floor. When I awoke, the movie was almost over, and I shuffled off to bed. I didn't think I'd go back to sleep; it was still early. But I did sleep, and slept soundly until this morning. I think I had too much Christmas.
Today I did a few errands in the morning, then I came home and started some kitchen cleanup and baking. I decided to make some more shortbread, but this time using cornstarch for part of the flour. I haven't baked the dough yet, so I can't tell you how it worked. I'll let you know later.
I also added chocolate chips to one batch of the shortbread, and I made a batch of Millionaire Shortbread, which is cooling as I type. We ate leftover roast beef and turkey carcass soup for lunch and I made a batch of Grandma Jane's potato salad to keep us going through the week. Bo's off work tomorrow and Thursday, and tonight the children and I are going to a bargain movie to see Santa Claus III. I hope I'm not terribly disappointed. :-/
I have the after-Christmas-bad-attitude-blahs today. I just don't feel settled, and my body has had about enough standing, cooking, washing dishes, cleaning, and standing. Enough!
More about Christmas happenings when I return. For now, it's off to the theater.
The Christmas Interviews: Part IV: The Houdin Files
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
Houdin: What?
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
H: Yep
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
H: What?
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
H: Uh...Air Soft BB Gun.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
H: Um...couldn't get to sleep Christmas Eve. I tried to drink grape juice and eat Buckeyes, and it didn't taste too good, because one was sweet and one was sour. It was kinda gross, actually.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
H: I can't tell you. Because I haven't given it yet. Because it got lost by a certain person. She was wrapping presents and she lost one.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
H: Um...not really. I didn't really want much. That one Heroscape set with a bunch of heroes that has a dragon it it.
M: That's the one I wanted to get you, but Dad said you wouldn't want that one.
H: Aw, man! Can I trade and you can pretend that's what you got me?
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
H: Um, an Air Soft BB gun.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
H: No. I really liked everything I got.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
H: Um, Playmobil, Heroscape, uh...a shoulder bag, some books, and I think that was pretty much it.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
H: Shoot people with Air Soft BB guns.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
H: Um, be able to make, get together a bunch of people for an Air Soft, uh, Heroscape party. It'd be fun. It would be like a two-day thing, so if I have a Heroscape/Air Soft party, people can come for both. as it is now, we've got about $250 of Heroscape stuff. maybe $300. In our group. And everyone said they wanted to have a Heroscape pot so we can have community Heroscape figures.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
H: Um, I guess, it's just a time where everybody can relax and uh, it's sad though, because a lot of people during Christmas season don't relax and that's what makes the Christmas season depressing sometimes.
M: So, are you gonna do the shopping and and make meals next year?
H: I can make some meals, but I won't be able to drive to do the shopping. I'd like to.
M: If you did, do you think you could relax?
H: christmas day, yeah. I think I'd relax better knowing I worked the day before. I'd make it last.
M: What's your favorite part of Christmas;
H: Right after everyone opens their presents and everyone's using their presents or playing with them or whatever, and going over to your friend's house and showing them what you got and everyone's happy. No one's mad at each other. Who wants to get mad at anybody when you just got a bunch of free stuff?
The Loot List:
A hat that says, "What would Jesus do" and it looks like the Mt. Dew logo
A handgun BB gun
Two Heroscape Expansion sets
Candy
snake tatoos
camo duct tape
Air Soft goggles
An ice shaver, which I used last night and it worked really well. I took the ice out of the freezer and shaved it, and made some really, really concentrated Gator Ade and then I put it in the icy and mixed it all up, and it was really good.
Monty Python pjs. It's got the Black Knight with his arms and legs chopped off and it says, "It's just a flesh wound"
Pringles
Chocolate orange
Sweater
An Air Force field jacket--it's green.
Houdin: What?
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
H: Yep
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
H: What?
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
H: Uh...Air Soft BB Gun.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
H: Um...couldn't get to sleep Christmas Eve. I tried to drink grape juice and eat Buckeyes, and it didn't taste too good, because one was sweet and one was sour. It was kinda gross, actually.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
H: I can't tell you. Because I haven't given it yet. Because it got lost by a certain person. She was wrapping presents and she lost one.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
H: Um...not really. I didn't really want much. That one Heroscape set with a bunch of heroes that has a dragon it it.
M: That's the one I wanted to get you, but Dad said you wouldn't want that one.
H: Aw, man! Can I trade and you can pretend that's what you got me?
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
H: Um, an Air Soft BB gun.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
H: No. I really liked everything I got.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
H: Um, Playmobil, Heroscape, uh...a shoulder bag, some books, and I think that was pretty much it.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
H: Shoot people with Air Soft BB guns.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
H: Um, be able to make, get together a bunch of people for an Air Soft, uh, Heroscape party. It'd be fun. It would be like a two-day thing, so if I have a Heroscape/Air Soft party, people can come for both. as it is now, we've got about $250 of Heroscape stuff. maybe $300. In our group. And everyone said they wanted to have a Heroscape pot so we can have community Heroscape figures.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
H: Um, I guess, it's just a time where everybody can relax and uh, it's sad though, because a lot of people during Christmas season don't relax and that's what makes the Christmas season depressing sometimes.
M: So, are you gonna do the shopping and and make meals next year?
H: I can make some meals, but I won't be able to drive to do the shopping. I'd like to.
M: If you did, do you think you could relax?
H: christmas day, yeah. I think I'd relax better knowing I worked the day before. I'd make it last.
M: What's your favorite part of Christmas;
H: Right after everyone opens their presents and everyone's using their presents or playing with them or whatever, and going over to your friend's house and showing them what you got and everyone's happy. No one's mad at each other. Who wants to get mad at anybody when you just got a bunch of free stuff?
The Loot List:
A hat that says, "What would Jesus do" and it looks like the Mt. Dew logo
A handgun BB gun
Two Heroscape Expansion sets
Candy
snake tatoos
camo duct tape
Air Soft goggles
An ice shaver, which I used last night and it worked really well. I took the ice out of the freezer and shaved it, and made some really, really concentrated Gator Ade and then I put it in the icy and mixed it all up, and it was really good.
Monty Python pjs. It's got the Black Knight with his arms and legs chopped off and it says, "It's just a flesh wound"
Pringles
Chocolate orange
Sweater
An Air Force field jacket--it's green.
The Christmas Interviews: Part III: The Bard Files
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
Bard: Yeah.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
B: Pirates of the Carribean II.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
B: Not being able to fall asleep the night before.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
B: The ducks. Large resin duck figurines to Mom.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
B: There wasn't anything I really, really, really wanted. I kinda wanted that hat with the earphones in it, but I didn't really, really, really want it. And the stuff I did want, I got, so...
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
B: Uh, yeah. I didn't really ask for anything. I think the only thing I asked for was the Pirates DVD and a t-shirt (says "I love pirates"), so...
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
B: Nope.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
B: I think last year, I got the Reliant K CD and I got some jewelry, and Playmobil stuff. It's hard to remember what you got, cuz you know stuff you have that you like, but it's hard to remember exactly what it was you got. Oh! I got, um...all those Richard Haliburton books. I got a lot of books last year. I think I got Hitchhiker's Guide last year.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
B: I don't think anything. I can debate. I guess.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
B: Beat my speech nemesis.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
B: Well, Christmas means the day Jesus was born. So, I mean, it doesn't really...I mean, it MEANS stuff, but it's not like, "Oh, I have to find the meaning of Christmas," because you already know what it is, if you're a Christian.
M: What's your favorite part of Christmas;
B: Probably just relaxing and everyone hanging out after we open presents.
The Loot List:
Pirates of the Carribean II
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the movie
Baby Check Up
Some books
Some Playmobil stuff
Two little Chinese figurines
A desk and computer
Pajamas
My "pirates" shirt
A Dr. Seuss shirt
Beanie Babies
Bard: Yeah.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
B: Pirates of the Carribean II.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
B: Not being able to fall asleep the night before.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
B: The ducks. Large resin duck figurines to Mom.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
B: There wasn't anything I really, really, really wanted. I kinda wanted that hat with the earphones in it, but I didn't really, really, really want it. And the stuff I did want, I got, so...
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
B: Uh, yeah. I didn't really ask for anything. I think the only thing I asked for was the Pirates DVD and a t-shirt (says "I love pirates"), so...
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
B: Nope.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
B: I think last year, I got the Reliant K CD and I got some jewelry, and Playmobil stuff. It's hard to remember what you got, cuz you know stuff you have that you like, but it's hard to remember exactly what it was you got. Oh! I got, um...all those Richard Haliburton books. I got a lot of books last year. I think I got Hitchhiker's Guide last year.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
B: I don't think anything. I can debate. I guess.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
B: Beat my speech nemesis.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
B: Well, Christmas means the day Jesus was born. So, I mean, it doesn't really...I mean, it MEANS stuff, but it's not like, "Oh, I have to find the meaning of Christmas," because you already know what it is, if you're a Christian.
M: What's your favorite part of Christmas;
B: Probably just relaxing and everyone hanging out after we open presents.
The Loot List:
Pirates of the Carribean II
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the movie
Baby Check Up
Some books
Some Playmobil stuff
Two little Chinese figurines
A desk and computer
Pajamas
My "pirates" shirt
A Dr. Seuss shirt
Beanie Babies
The Christmas Interviews: Part II: The Sweetheart Files
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
Sweetheart: Yes. This might be my favorite Christmas.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
S: Probably the Playmobil set with the unicorns. Maybe the leather purse, or the glass things in it.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
S: That I didn't get Build-a-Bear clothes.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
S: Probably Sticky Notes to Houdin or the Hot Wheel car I gave to Monet.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
S: No.
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
S: I didn't ask for anything.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
S: No.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
s: All I remember was when Dad had to drive an Amish person and it took really, really long and we had to wait for him forever and when he got home, we started ripping presents open. Oh! And Bard gave me a purple glass doll to put on my Christmas tree.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
S: Play piano.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
S: Play guitar or harp.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
S: Giving, taking, love and hope.
What is your favorite thing about Christmas?
Her: That you get presents and you get cookies, and you get to spend time with your family. And the wonderful meal you have.
The Loot List:
Glass dolls (ornaments. --Ed)
A ballerina
Gum from my Secret St. Nick
Playmobil unicorn set
Polly Pocket
Chocolate orange and candy
Early pajamas
A leather purse
Clothes
A velvety poster that you color
A thing that goes over my bed (a canopy. --Ed)
A pretty quilt with little girls on it.
Pillowcases that were embroidered with kitty cats and butterflies.
Books
Pink Converse tennis shoes
Coloring books
Markers
A little book of fairies that you color like stained glass windows
Pringles
A wonderful dinner
Sweetheart: Yes. This might be my favorite Christmas.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
S: Probably the Playmobil set with the unicorns. Maybe the leather purse, or the glass things in it.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
S: That I didn't get Build-a-Bear clothes.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
S: Probably Sticky Notes to Houdin or the Hot Wheel car I gave to Monet.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
S: No.
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
S: I didn't ask for anything.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
S: No.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
s: All I remember was when Dad had to drive an Amish person and it took really, really long and we had to wait for him forever and when he got home, we started ripping presents open. Oh! And Bard gave me a purple glass doll to put on my Christmas tree.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
S: Play piano.
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
S: Play guitar or harp.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
S: Giving, taking, love and hope.
What is your favorite thing about Christmas?
Her: That you get presents and you get cookies, and you get to spend time with your family. And the wonderful meal you have.
The Loot List:
Glass dolls (ornaments. --Ed)
A ballerina
Gum from my Secret St. Nick
Playmobil unicorn set
Polly Pocket
Chocolate orange and candy
Early pajamas
A leather purse
Clothes
A velvety poster that you color
A thing that goes over my bed (a canopy. --Ed)
A pretty quilt with little girls on it.
Pillowcases that were embroidered with kitty cats and butterflies.
Books
Pink Converse tennis shoes
Coloring books
Markers
A little book of fairies that you color like stained glass windows
Pringles
A wonderful dinner
The Christmas Interviews: Part I: The Monet Files
Mama: Are you having a good Christmas?
Monet: Yeah. Really great. We didn't get as much presents, but I still like the presents that I got.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
Him: The Playmobil pirate ship. It only has three guys on it, so it's not a very big crew, but I got more pirates from different sets, so I've got a bigger crew now.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
Him: I don't really know. The worst part...that Houdin didn't get very many presents, but he got an Air Soft gun.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
Him: I think...the coolest gift or the best gift?
M: Doesn't matter.
Him: During Christmas?
M: Any Christmas gift.
Him: I think the Hot Wheel car I got for Houdin. I really liked that.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
Him: That BIG, HUUUGE red Playmobil castle. It's the Lion's Castle. That's what, like, team they are. The lions. But that's a huge, biggest one. And it's really cool because it has a trap door.
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
Him: Yeah. A pirate ship. THE pirate ship. The End, the last Series of Unfortunate Events book.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
Him: Not really. I really liked all of them, but the one I didn't like as much would probably be...I don't know. I liked all of them.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
Him: We got a castle...Playmobil. And I think I got a pocketknife and a CD player, which I have a pocketknife, the same one I lost that I thought I'd never see again, I got it back this year.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
Him: I can do Flash cartoons. I even have a logo!
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
Him: Drive.
M: That's not gonna happen.
Him: Draw really good.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
Him: Well, it means to me joy and happiness, and you get a lot of presents, but that's not all. Snowing. But it didn't snow this year. Well, it did, but not very much. Not enough to sled on. It means that we get to celebrate the birth of Jesus, and that's the happiest time of the year. That when my birthday comes, everything will be green.
M: What does that have to do with Christmas?
Him: There are no leaves on the trees, but when my birthday comes, there will be leaves on the trees. On my birthday, leaves. On Christmas, no leaves. It really doesn't make any sense.
M: What's your favorite thing about Christmas?
Him: Presents and snowing and good decorating. Caroling, and drinking hot chocolate.
The Loot List:
A couple packets of Runtz
A lot of chocolate, which I didn't eat and I gave to The Baby
A pirate ship
A bunch of sweaters and a coat
Pajama pants that say "Anger Management School Dropout"
A chocolate orange
Some school books (I think)
Hot wheels car
Series of Unfortunate Events book
Polymer clay
I got an early present--Flash
A drawing model
A good Zig pen
A bunch of ball-point pens
My pocketknife back
A pirate sticker book
Monet: Yeah. Really great. We didn't get as much presents, but I still like the presents that I got.
Mama: What's your favorite gift this year?
Him: The Playmobil pirate ship. It only has three guys on it, so it's not a very big crew, but I got more pirates from different sets, so I've got a bigger crew now.
M: What was the worst part about Christmas?
Him: I don't really know. The worst part...that Houdin didn't get very many presents, but he got an Air Soft gun.
M: What's the best gift you gave?
Him: I think...the coolest gift or the best gift?
M: Doesn't matter.
Him: During Christmas?
M: Any Christmas gift.
Him: I think the Hot Wheel car I got for Houdin. I really liked that.
M: Was there anything you really, really, really wanted but you didn't get?
Him: That BIG, HUUUGE red Playmobil castle. It's the Lion's Castle. That's what, like, team they are. The lions. But that's a huge, biggest one. And it's really cool because it has a trap door.
M: Was there anything you didn't ask for that you're really glad you got?
Him: Yeah. A pirate ship. THE pirate ship. The End, the last Series of Unfortunate Events book.
M: Was there anything you got that you don't like?
Him: Not really. I really liked all of them, but the one I didn't like as much would probably be...I don't know. I liked all of them.
M: Do you remember any of the gifts you got last year?
Him: We got a castle...Playmobil. And I think I got a pocketknife and a CD player, which I have a pocketknife, the same one I lost that I thought I'd never see again, I got it back this year.
M: What can you do this year that you couldn't do last Christmas?
Him: I can do Flash cartoons. I even have a logo!
M: What do you hope to be able to do by next Christmas that you can't do this year?
Him: Drive.
M: That's not gonna happen.
Him: Draw really good.
M: What does Christmas mean to you?
Him: Well, it means to me joy and happiness, and you get a lot of presents, but that's not all. Snowing. But it didn't snow this year. Well, it did, but not very much. Not enough to sled on. It means that we get to celebrate the birth of Jesus, and that's the happiest time of the year. That when my birthday comes, everything will be green.
M: What does that have to do with Christmas?
Him: There are no leaves on the trees, but when my birthday comes, there will be leaves on the trees. On my birthday, leaves. On Christmas, no leaves. It really doesn't make any sense.
M: What's your favorite thing about Christmas?
Him: Presents and snowing and good decorating. Caroling, and drinking hot chocolate.
The Loot List:
A couple packets of Runtz
A lot of chocolate, which I didn't eat and I gave to The Baby
A pirate ship
A bunch of sweaters and a coat
Pajama pants that say "Anger Management School Dropout"
A chocolate orange
Some school books (I think)
Hot wheels car
Series of Unfortunate Events book
Polymer clay
I got an early present--Flash
A drawing model
A good Zig pen
A bunch of ball-point pens
My pocketknife back
A pirate sticker book
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Memories of Christmases Past
I hope you enjoy a few photos of our past Christmases. It's a decent substitute for new photos while my camera's out of commission. What a wonderful day we've had, beginning with a Christmas Eve service which included a scrumptious breakfast, lots of singing and many smiling faces. We came home to the aroma of roasting turkey and beef--both had been put on to cook before we left. Everyone pitched in one way or another and around 4:00, we had a feast fit for a family. The turkey was fabulous, the stuffing was amazing (I got the "pattern" for the stuffing from Fine Cooking, a magazine I picked up at the thrift store for a dime! I'll post the stuffing recipe later and explain about the "pattern" thing), the mashed potatoes were light and fluffy, and the gravy was only slightly lumpy. :-) Bard's pickle wraps were delicious, though there are many leftovers of all because there was so much to eat. Even now, the Turkey Carcass Soup broth has been started, so tomorrow's meal will be as yummy as today's! Come on by, if you need some food. ;-)
Now it's time to wash and wrap the Christmas pajamas (I finally found some!) and relax to the sights of candles glimmering and Turkey Carcass Soup simmering.
One more sleep 'til Christmas! Are you as excited as I am?!?
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