With A Bang

I don't remember how this started - we used to bang pots and pans to usher in the New Year. I sort of remember doing this as a kid. We also used to eat what we called "pick it" plates which was nothing more than an assortment of cheeses, summer sausage, and crackers. Sometimes we would have a giant sub sandwich, and other times we had fondue.

That was a long time ago so the details are fuzzy. I could be mixing up my traditions here.

Then I moved to the Left Coast, got married and inherited kids. We carried on some of the family holiday traditions - like making red and green cookies. They're ball-shaped cookies made of nothing more than butter, flour, sugar, and ground almonds rolled in either red or green sugar. I made it with my stepsons and I've made it with my grandson. I don't think any of the boys will carry on this tradition but now I have a granddaughter so I'm hoping the red and green cookies will continue with her someday.

For New Years Eve, I used to take the kids outside at nine pm and call my parents where it was midnight and we'd usher in the New Year by banging pots and pans over the phone line. This was probably highly annoying as I can imagine they would rather be sleeping. The kids thought it was great to be making all that noise and the neighbors didn't mind because it was only nine pm.

For years, the kids thought the New Year started at nine which was great because then we did go to bed.

My stepson tried banging pots and pans with his son last year but he was only three and it scared him a little. Thankfully, he didn't call me at midnight for the demonstration. I wonder if I'll be that lucky this year. What goes around comes around.

To my family members who are on the Right Coast - don't worry, I won't be calling you to bang pots and pans. Sleep easy and have sweet dreams of whatever your future holds. Good health, I hope, and prosperity if you're lucky. Love, and family to share it with.

May you have many blessings in 2013.

N33°45.063'
W116°21.466'

And doing pretty much nothing.

Cupcake

I plan to be ghostwriting greeting cards as my next career. I've been sending little love notes to a friend of mine on a monthly basis, always addressing her as Cupcake and always signing it as Your Secret Admirer with no return address. She knows it's me. Her husband knows it's me, too.

Still, he's jealous. She looks forward to my card every month and then she shows it to everyone she knows.

I won a package of cupcake greeting cards at a bingo game that she and I both attended. The game was actually called Dirty Bingo because sometimes you could win a prize and sometimes you could steal a prize from someone else. Somehow I ended up with this package of twelve gaudy cards that featured cupcakes, glitter, and lots of pink. Not my style by a long shot.

My friend wanted them but I wound up with them instead so I told her she could have them - one at a time. I told her I'd mail her one every month for a year and when another friend suggested the cards should be sent from a secret admirer the deal was on.

The messages aren't racy. They're just cute messages of desire and longing for a dessert, really, with themes that center on the events of the month - usually whatever holiday is presently occurring.

I told her husband that when the last card is gone, I could write new ones that are signed by him.

Cyrano de Bergerac meets Hallmark.

Anyone need a secret admirer?

Acknowledgments

Before the year gets completely away from me, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for stopping by. I really do appreciate it. The best part of writing - here or anywhere - is the reaction from readers. I'm just having a good time and I'm glad you are too. That's the whole idea.

Top props go to the Most Exclusive Blog (76003.1414) - the source of my most ardent supporters (three or four, maybe?) and much inspiration. I have a nice readership that connects with me through Facebook and that tickles me because many of these people I see on a regular basis and when I do we just pick up the conversation wherever it left off here.

I always pick up a lot of readers in December through Holidailies and it's fun to see a surge in readership! I love reading posts there too and have found new favorites. (I'll set up new links sometime early in the new  year and will try to stay in touch.)

Last, and by no means least, I would like to thank the people who drive BMWs with faulty batteries.

I wrote a post about six weeks ago entitled Come Again? that is my all time, highest grossing post - if clicks were money. As of today, 90 folks have stopped by to read this post which means there are a lot of BMWs with battery problems or I should think about changing the entire format of this blog to write about BMWs.

I don't know what I would say, exactly, about BMW but I could figure something out if that's what it takes. In the last 20 years, we've owned or leased nine. I know. That's crazy. We've had one 7 series, one 3, one X, one Z, and the rest were 5s. (Hubby's favorite was the 7. Mine is the Z which I've had over ten years.)

We've directly influenced the purchase of five more by family and friends. So, you'd think I'd have something to say.

Like, they're cute?

I'll work on it.

Maybe in my next novel my heroine should drive a BMW with a clock that loses time. When the service department tells her there's nothing wrong with her car (for which information she is charged an obscene amount of money) she can only conclude that she is traveling through time - five minutes at a time.

If that's what it takes to sell a book, so be it. I'll be sure to list Sport-Touring.Net in my Acknowledgements.

However you got here, thanks. I'll do my best to give you reasons to stop by again.

Countdown

Santa's been here and, boy, did he leave a mess. I thought the presents would come wrapped. Maybe, because we're so far west, he just got tired and dropped off whatever was left at the bottom of the bag. I've got a heap of presents, paper, bows, and tape strewn all over my dining room table. I've got two plates of cookies - very nice - but there are dirty pots and pans throughout the kitchen. I thought they did all this at the North Pole!

Four hours until company arrives and I still have to put dinner together. I'd like to get a load of laundry started but there are boxes of decorations and wrapping paper stacked so high in the laundry room that I'd have to clean that up first before I could get anywhere near the washing machine.

The stockings are hung - with care, of course - but they still need to be filled. What happened? Are the elves on strike? Was there some dispute en route? Was my chimney not clean enough?

I just hope the reindeer didn't leave a mess on the roof because I don't have time for this.

Three-and-a-half hours left to get ready. Better get a move on.

Peace

Santa is Europe now and Mrs. Claus is enjoying a little peace and quiet.

Yesterday was busy, though. Rudolf spent most of the day throwing up in the barn. (He has a case of flight anxiety every year.) The sleigh received a new coat of paint and the mechanics had it in tip top condition. There were no problems with the sleigh's pre-flight checks but there were problems with the de-icer just before take off which created some last minute tension.

The PR elves are still at work dealing with allegations that some of the reindeer use performance enhancing drugs and TMZ is reporting that Prancer is openly gay. I thought everyone already knew most of the reindeer are gay but, still, it creates headlines and parents worry over what to tell the children.

Last night, I made Cincinnati Chili for Santa's Christmas Eve dinner. I was looking up something in my Joy of Cooking and was surprised to come across the recipe. Santa comes home every year telling me about regional delicacies from around the world. You would think he'd bring home leftovers, but there aren't any. Ever.

He told me they put chili on spaghetti there although I can't even imagine why someone would want to do that. He told me it was an odd combination of nasty and addictive. In truth, it's somewhere in the middle.

It's not "chili" either, in the traditional sense. Among it's ingredients are allspice, cloves, cinnamon, and chocolate. It's served in "ways":

1-Way = chili
2-Way = chili on spaghetti
3-Way = add grated cheddar
4-Way = top with chopped onions
5-Way = top all with cooked red kidney beans

I went all the way. Santa skipped the beans although if there was any night of the year for him to eat them, it was the night before he was going to be out of the house for 24 hours.

Most of the elves are napping in piles of bows and glitter and I have just under twelve hours to myself.

Mrs. Clause is going to slip into the tub for a while, have a glass of wine, and read Fifty Shades of Grey.

TO DO

1. Wash the red sweater I've been wearing the last four days.
2. Wear red sweater four more days.

And, Then? I Can't Wait. Really, I Can't.

Do you know someone who does this? A spouse, perhaps?

You hear "burble" and you respond, "What?" because you're not sure if you heard "gurgle" or "bubble" or "purple."

And then he - or, possibly, she - says, "Well, you have to understand that in 1930 the Russian-Franco accord was in effect and the socioeconomic structure that existed at the time was like this. And then, in the 40s...."

And all you wanted to know was, was it "gurgle" or "bubble" or "purple"?

Wishes

My favorite time of day is second thing in the morning because the first thing is getting out of bed. If I could do the second thing before the first thing, that would be okay with me.

My favorite time of day - after I've gotten out of bed and after I've made my coffee - is when I drink languorously of my coffee and read of a good book. As I have other things to do, this time is limited to the time it takes for me to drink my coffee so I make the biggest one I can and drink it as slowly as possible.

It's almost as good as being in bed. The only better thing would be to do this in bed but then nothing would ever get done.

The last good book I read was Follow the River by James Alexander Thom. I have a gift certificate for a new book burning a hole in my pocket (and now the power with which to redeem it) and there are so many choices. What shall I pick?

The good news is, with the power of shiny electronic things, I can complete this transaction entirely from bed. (I have a secret plan to move my office there. If I were a super villain  I would run my empire in flannel jammies from under a fluffy duvet. Doesn't quite seem menacing enough, does it?)

I look forward to a New Year of good reading. And if I can't do it in bed, can we discuss Hawaii?

A Day of Adventure

I'm just glad it's over. It started well enough. I received an e-mail during the night that a present had arrived and was already under my tree. (There's an app for that with Santa notification settings.) I had received a gift certificate for an electronic book. This would have been great except we had lost power earlier that morning. No power, no e-book.

Also, no coffee.

I put on my walking gear and decided to hike to the nearest coffee shop which happens to be a Starbucks (since you're never more than a mile from one at any given moment). And, wouldn't you know, they didn't have power either.

Still, no coffee and no e-book.

So I got ready for work, foregoing washing my hair since I couldn't dry it. Wouldn't you know - power at work. So, I got coffee but then, you know, I had to work.

But not for long because I ditched work to see Flight of the Butterflies, IMAX 3D Documentary on the Monarch Butterfly and then I got dropped off at the Amtrak station to catch a train to Portland.

I was informed there had been a mudslide so there were no trains to Portland. Luckily, I remembered there was a Bolt Bus leaving for Portland at 2. I had a half an hour to figure out where it was and how to get on it.

The ride was - shall we say - interesting. Within two blocks from our departure a woman in her mid-fifties was at the front of the bus complaining to the bus driver that the restroom was out of hand sanitizer. She seemed quite upset. As we were in downtown city traffic, the driver could do nothing other than direct her to  an overhead bin where some additional sanitizer might be found.

It wasn't there. The woman was becoming agitated. Worried, she went back to her seat and, apparently, called customer service at Bolt Bus to complain about it.

I was two rows behind the driver so I heard him when someone at Bolt Bus called the driver and asked him to pull over somewhere so she could wash her hands.

This is a non-stop express bus between Seattle and Portland. Expected travel time -  with no stops - is about three hours.

The bus pulled over but the woman didn't get off. People in the back of the bus had no idea why we had stopped so they started calling Customer Service.

The bus continued on for several miles and the bus driver continued to make and receive phone calls as snow began to fall. I watched him peer over his glasses in order to see the keypad to dial his phone. It was unnerving.

The bus driver was advised to make an announcement on the intercom so that people in the back of the bus would know why we had stopped. Meanwhile everyone in the front of the bus already knew and were quite angry with the woman for causing the bus to make a stop. They started teasing her. One woman got in an argument with her. All the while, I could hear the driver talking on the phone or to front row passengers saying that the woman was maybe not all there.

I started feeling sorry for the woman. Tensions were running high.

Concerned passengers gathered what they had to accommodate the woman. One passenger had bottled water. Another had soap. They offered it to the woman who took the items and as she went to the restroom to use them, passengers cheered and called themselves Team Bolt!

The driver continued to bad talk the woman. For miles and miles.

Finally, the entire episode ended and the driver and one passenger proceeded to exchange their entire life stories. I was so thankful to have my iPod so I could tune it all out.

When I got to Portland traffic was bad so I stayed downtown for dinner. That was nice. But when I got home I found the light bulb for my little porcelain Christmas tree had burned out.

A perfect final ending to a perfectly strange day.

I think I'll stick with Amtrak.

Mrs. Santa's Meltdown

It happens every year. Mrs. Santa gets to feeling grouchy because she feels like she's the only one doing any work. Santa is just sitting in his easy chair watching the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl of all things. Good Christ - what is it with the names for college bowl games? Little Ceasers Pizza Bowl? Really? If we're going to name football games after food products maybe we should name them after things that actually go in bowls. Like cereal, soup, or Chocolate Chip Mint.

Where does he think all those cookies come from? Hmmm? Mrs. Santa, that's who.

Who cleans up after all those freaking elves? They shed glitter dandruff for chrissakes.

And the reindeer? You really don't want to know the details. It's not pretty. Especially if they don't get their organic carrots. Picky eaters, they are.

Who do you think picks up the red suit at the dry cleaners? I'll give you one guess.

And who do you think keeps the lights on?? It's not the fat man over there I can tell you that. He gives all his shit away!

Mrs. Claus has a cottage industry of her own. Actually, it's a multinational corporation that manufactures and sells cute little hats shaped like Christmas trees, teeny tiny Christmas clothes, "First Christmas" ornaments, silver rattles, and the like for newbie grandparents. They're suckers for that kind of thing and Mrs. Claus cleans up every year.

Does anyone every thank Mrs. Claus? No, Santa gets all the credit.

And that's why she gets grouchy.

That's also why she's also on her second glass of wine.

That Was Close

An organic food delivery strike has ended, averting potential disaster and ruin.

I pause here for a moment to wonder whether it was the food that was organic, or the strike. Or, perhaps the food delivery. I know what organic food is but what would constitute an in/organic strike or in/organic food delivery? It's the organic-ness of food delivery that worries me because there's no way we could agree on what makes a strike organic or not. I'm from Chicago where strikes are necessarily both organic and inorganic by definition.

Inorganic food delivery, on the other hand, makes me think of the high school lunch lady. I'm sure she was very nice, but a foodie she never was, and I'm not sure I would want to know all the details of what went on in her kitchen. Remember, kids, that was back in the day when teachers and other school staff could smoke. Indoors.

I shake my head now to clear my thoughts and concentrate on the issue at hand - the delivery of organic food because I imagine this is what the reindeer eat.

Not Santa. He's a little on the heavy side. I wonder what nationality he claims.... Again, I'm distracted. No matter, if he was American then we could say "heavy" but anywhere else he might be considered morbidly obese. You don't think he got that way on organic food, do you? Cheetos, more like it.

Mmm, Cheetos. Can't say as I truly blame him.

On the Big Night he's probably a holy terror in every drive-through across the globe. Can you imagine? "Could I get a  Big Mac and a sack of carrots, to go?"

But the reindeer are trim and fit, and raring to go. Muscular, agile. They don't eat Cheetos or Big Macs. And don't tell me organic food is the exactly the same as regular food. I don't believe it.

Besides, those reindeer are old. Vitamins, you think? Maybe, but I'll bet you the Reindeer Games have something to do with it.

Anyway, I'm just glad the strike is over so the reindeer can get what they need even if Santa has to eat his feelings. What's with that, by the way? The guy must get pretty depressed up there at the North Pole. Maybe he could take a lesson or two from the reindeer and get his jolly fat ass in gear.

But later. That's something he can do in January.

Right?

Santa's Hungry

That's my guess, anyway, based on what's usually under the tree. Here's a list of gifts from Christmases past:

Pasta maker
Kitchen Aid mixer with pasta attachments (Santa really likes pasta)
Two Le Creuset dutch ovens
Marble rolling pin
Chopper
Cuisinart food processor
Electric citrus juicer
Cast iron panini pan
Silpats
Cookware

His favorite? Whichever one I happen to be using at the time. Most recently, the mixer and the Silpats while I was making cookies.

Some of them are gathering dust, sadly, like the rolling pin. It's sooo much easier to buy a pie crust than to make one. But I love my dutch ovens, Silpats, and mixer. It's a good thing that Santa brings me these things because I would never buy them for myself. I think they're too expensive but I do love to cook and eat good food so I would never think of returning them.

What's your favorite kitchen tool? Mine is a Hamilton Beach knife. I bought it in one of those discount kitchen stores for something like $10 but that's the knife I reach for whenever I'm cooking instead of one from my Chicago Cutlery set. It's lightweight and always sharp, and fits in my hand nicely. I have a paring knife that I like - don't know the brand but I bought it at Fred Myer. The blade is green and it cuts nicely.

It's a good thing Santa also got me a Food Saver.

I never know what to get Santa. He likes cookies (and pasta). But every year we agree not to buy anything for each other. We have everything we truly need. Yet every year, he sneaks something under the tree. I guess that's the advantage to having a staff of elves on hand.

I imagine he'd like me to buy some ridiculously priced underwear from Victoria's Secret. For myself, if you were wondering. It would certainly look better on me than on the elves. Or the reindeer. It just seems so - well, skimpy - for the North Pole, you know? Chilly.

Maybe something for the sleigh. Like GPS? Naw, I think Rudolf has that covered. CB radio? Air traffic control has that covered. Harmon Kardon speakers? I don't think so. It's hard enough to make a sneak landing on a rooftop without AC/DC blaring at 100 decibels.

Maybe a copy of Prep & Landing or A Charlie Brown Christmas to start building our holiday movie library. Yeah, that sounds good. Cuddle up on the couch, watch a movie and eat cookies. That sounds about right.

Right after he eats his broccoli.

Gooooaaal!

To tell you the truth, I don't feel like writing. I've been writing in my journal. That's good. But I've dropped my novel. That's not so good. I think after thirty days and nights of writing (and then some), all I wrote was the back story. There's a hole in the plot in the middle and I haven't reached the end yet either.

I have 63,700 words of ... meh.

Oh, well. I plan to get back to it. After....

...which may be as good as "never" if you read my post yesterday. Right now, my priorities are to walk every day. And I have some goals at work that I'm focused on right now.

I've  walked seven days in a row and it feels good. Last year - or maybe it was the year before - I walked every day for about 150 days in a row before I missed a day. I'd like to do that again - see how many days in a row I can go.

The work project is quantifiable and has an end point before my next big project which won't start in earnest until mid-February. Theoretically, that gives me January to work on the novel some more.

So in answer to my question yesterday, that's what I'll be writing in January.

What about you?

What are we going to write about in January?

December provides easy fodder for writing. Family - I mean, just right there one can mine a plethora of - what should I call it? - stuff; the holidays (however you celebrate) and the frantic preparations therefor; the hopes and inevitable disappointments; and stress mixed with swirls of joy and lots of good food - if you're lucky. There's a lot to work with here.

And then January happens and we zip up. Why? There's nothing going on in January except cleaning up after December and New Years Resolutions. Because we've all made promises and we figure it's better to keep quiet lest we admit to our failure on those promises. You know it's going to happen. Have you ever kept a New Year's Resolution?

Here are the resolutions you keep: the ones without dates assigned to them. Case in point - if you say, "my diet starts Monday" and it's Friday when you make that promise you've also just scheduled three days of excuses before you've even started. If the goal includes by it's very creation the excuses to avoid it, whatever it is you think you've promised will never happen.

That's just how goals work. They're a little like babies - they will suck the very life out of you. Too strong? I don't know - the reality is, babies and goals - the ones you mean to keep - have to take unprecedented priority in your life or they'll just - well, die.

I'm just saying, why wait? Start today. Otherwise, you're setting yourself up for failure. Some goals die. Others fizzle out. But unless it's important enough to do something about it - today - well, good luck is all I can say.

And, if you're not ready to start today? Then wait to make that promise until you are.

Because, you can do anything. If you really want to.

Way to go, "Ted"

We can assume, based on the quotes, that "Ted" is not a real name. It's probably Theodore. Because, really, who would name their kid Ted, right? Or maybe it's something else entirely. Whoever this philanthropist is, way to go!

As added incentive to our fundraisers and thanks to our Platinum Sponsor "Ted", we'll be giving away a brand new iPad to the top 10 individual fundraisers.

No grumps here at the 2012 Boston Santa Speedo Run. Sorry I missed it.

h/t Ron's Log

Sunset over the Columbia River

Mulligrubs

There's a reason it only happens once a year. Because it's exhausting, that's why, and there's not enough eggnog in the world that can numb oneself to the extremes we go to to make it all happen.

The recipe is this: take all the crazy you can dish out for an entire year, save it up in a box out in the garage, take it out sometime in December and then wonder WTF am I doing this for, again?

But a certain amount of crazy is necessary. Not just for the holiday season but to remind us of what it is to be human. Stressed out and strapped for cash? Maybe, but somewhere in the mad rush to every year's finish line we find little nuggets of - dare I say it? - hope. Love. Being connected to something or someone. Someone other than oneself.

Okay, that might be the eggnog talking. I'm a little fuzzy on the details.

The tree went up today and the house has been abuzz with activity of the merry kind. It must be said that I have the two most adorable grandchildren in the world. One is four, and the other is four months. And I'm in love with them both. The four-year-old helped decorate the tree and hang the stockings, he made our lunch sandwiches, he helped make the Christmas cookies, and he made juice in the juicer for our Christmas toast. And then he vacuumed the house.

Can I keep him?

It was controlled chaos all day long. Bottles, burping, diapers, spit up. Running through the house, using tape and scissors (not while running), cookie crumbs under the chairs, and jumping on the beds. Getting out the juicer, the Swiffer, the vacuum and half the toys. Ornaments, the nativity, and a Thomas the Train pop up tent all in one space. The tree might have been beautiful but I couldn't see it for the mess.

And then it was over. The house was quiet. The energy expended left a deficit in the reserve account. And somehow, magically, when everyone finally went home, the house wasn't a wreck. I don't know how it happened. A train wreck one moment, and all is calm the next.

It’s quite possible that elves really do exist. I hear they make shoes, too.


Today's word of the day is:

mul·li·grubs

[muhl-i-gruhbz]

noun, ( used with a singular or plural verb  ) Southern U.S.

ill temper; colic; grumpiness. 

Dictionary.com

I may have shaken my case of the mulligrubs. At least for today - maybe for the rest of the year - because I got this:

Really, can I keep him? (It was a tree ornament.)



By the way, it didn't snow here as my coffee mugs predicted. Not yet anyway. AccuWeather is currently forecasting it for the 20th. We'll see.

If It Snows Tonight, It's My Fault

It's going to snow, my Hubby said this morning. It doesn't snow much here in Seattle. Every once in a while but not often enough for people here to get any kind of sense of what to do when it does. Snow isn't just cold weather here. It's an event. We sell tickets for the show, too.

Minnesotans come by tour bus to watch the mayhem whenever the white stuff falls from the sky, just for the entertainment value. They sit out there in their t-shirts and lawn chairs, eating lutefisk, and lament the fact it isn't cold enough to ice fish. Meanwhile, we make a run on all the grocery stores to load up on enough non perishable goods for us to survive the wintry Armageddon.

It's been know to snow for more than twenty-four hours here. (Yes, hours. Not days.) And sometimes, that means we lose power. But usually, the snow comes and goes in just a few hours. Still, that's enough to close down all the schools and  the for the local TV stations to issue advisories for everyone to stay home until the following Summer.

We take it pretty seriously.

This morning I had coffee in my snowflake mug which generally lingers in the back of my coffee cup collection all year long. But the season is upon us and I'm starting to feel that jolly spirit so out it came today. And yesterday, I drank from my snowman mug. And then Hubby said, it's going to snow.

It's not supposed to get cold enough to snow tonight and it's not in the forecast.

But you might want to run to the store and stock up just in case.

Coffee mugs never lie.

The Most Exclusive Ever

and For A Very Limited Time!

What could it be, you ask? What could be so coveted that a limited edition of only 5,000 of these items SOLD OUT in just one day?

What could it be that has stunning etched steel designs?

For the low, low price of $450 - what, oh, what could it be??

I don't even know where to start, I am so stunned myself. It is...

...a Starbucks card.

You already know how I feel about Starbucks. But, wouldn't you know, they sent me an e-mail yesterday saying I'd earned a free cup of coffee.

It's a love/hate thing.

But I'm not getting one of these:

(available at Gilt.com)

For $450, these little babies come pre-loaded with $400 in credit and automatic Gold membership status. Which means, after you give them $50 for the card, you only have to buy twelve more cups of coffee to get a free one instead of the normal 42.

This must make sense to somebody because they're all gone.

Last year, I made the mistake of giving Santa a choice: I wanted a trip to Belize or coffee. What I got was coffee. Roughly six pounds of it. (And, I drank it all.)

This year, forget Belize. And, forget coffee.

If you feel so moved as to spend $450 at Starbucks, buy me stock.

Plink, Plink

red·neck hu·mid·i·fi·er

  [red-neck hyoo-mid-uh-fahy-er]

noun 

1.A device for increasing the amount of water vapor in the air of a room or building, consisting of a bucket to capture the water dripping through a leaking roof. 

Top Down, Not

To combat my recent bout of sloth - okay, it's more of an ongoing thing - I've been setting my alarm clock. It's a drastic measure but sooner or later - hopefully, later - I'm going to have to get into a real work routine*. For some reason that seemed perfectly logical last night I didn't set it. As a result, I slept until 7:45 this morning.

Work starts at 8:30 - although I usually don't skid in until 9 or 9:30. (See above.) I fought back with laziness: I didn't wash my hair and didn't apply makeup. Got to work more or less early (before 9) with pillow marks still on my face, eyes still puffy from sleep.

Had to temper my exuberance by blogging. It's about 9:30 now so we're more or less even.

But, in my excited state, I didn't notice that the sun was out until I was halfway to work. I've been so busy building an ark that I didnt' fully realize that there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was only 41 degrees but if I had been more caffeinated when I left the house, I would have taken my convertible to work and dropped the top.

I just checked - I'm wearing matching socks so at least I can say I'm conscious.

I better get to work because I'm taking the afternoon off for some planned goofing off. (Spa services. Totally necessary, imo.) I can probably work a nap into that scenario while I'm at it.

Good thing I slept in. It looks like it's going to be a busy day.



*For those of you new to ChoChiMi, my paying job is as an accountant. During tax season, my posts are short and grumpy. Correction, grumpier.

Pass the Cheese, Please

red·neck cheese·plate

  [red-neck-cheez-pleyt]

noun, plural red·neck cheese·plates  [-pleyts] 

1.Cheetos, Cheez-Its, and Cheez Whiz served as an hors d'oeuvre or appetizer. Sometimes includes Velveeta.

Do I Have To?

My lifestyle is largely pajama-based.

(Pajamageddon)

That's the funniest thing I've read all week. Can't get it out of my head. I long for my pajama-based life. And miss it.

I'm half-jammied right now. Makes sense, really. I have a pajama-based life about half the time so right now it's as if I'm in transition between the two.

See, the thing is, I work.

Ugh, I know, but somebody's got to do it. About half the time I can telecommute which is human-resource-speak for "work in my pajamas." In November, I get a big fat break when I can work in my pajamas the entire month.

Sweet jesus, it's heaven.

Oh, and I just got back from Hawaii. Nice.

Fast forward to today, the third of December, a Monday, and I'm back at work. Work, you say? Yes, of the nine-to-five variety. In an office of the no-pajamas variety. But I managed to get through to lunch with no problem and I tend to take lunch late in the day so that by the time I'm done it's nearly quitting time so - yippee - it's all downhill from there.

I got a lot done which is good but I was ready to leave at 5 straight up. But then a friend called.  She needs help sorting out her medicare coverage. God, I love her but I really thought I might read, write, set up the tree, anything but figure out medicare tonight. Sure, I said. Just send over what you have. I'll take a look.

I figured I'd pour myself a glass of wine when I got home and take a look at it. How bad could it be? But then I got home and found I forgot to turn on the dishwasher before I went to work. Wine, no glasses. Where are the straws?

Then, I remembered I had laundry, too. Started a load. Where the hell are those straws?

And it's been raining cats and dogs here lately. Don't ask me how much because I was in Hawaii but it was enough to spring a leak somewhere in the roof. Mental note, call roofer and buy straws.

Finally, I had a moment to sit down a write when, for some strange reason, I realized I didn't have my phone with me. Hunted it down and saw a missed call from my brother. Hurried to call him back because he's pretty elusive. If you miss him, it could be another six months before you catch him. Nice chat...

...during which my husband called. Twice. He's the sweetest guy on earth but I swear to god if he doesn't hear from me every 45 minutes he sort of panics. After the second call, I hung up with my brother, and chatted with my hubby who is out of town for a couple days. Which, by the way, is how I started my Monday - by taking him to the airport at O'Dark Thirty. And as he gave me a kiss goodbye this morning, he asked if I could swing by the car dealership to get new wiper blades.

I think of that moment now - such an innocent request at the time - as I take another swig from the bottle.

To heck with the straws.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Well, the tree didn't go up as planned. Of course, none if this is really planned. There's always tomorrow but with each tomorrow I get closer to What's the point? I made cookies, though. That counts, right? Butterscotch oatmeal. Santa's favorite.

I had to wear reading glasses to make them. Reading glasses! That's because the recipe is on the back of the butterscotch package along with twelve other recipes. But reading glasses? Mrs. Claus is getting older... (Not old. Older.)

In other culinary news, I noticed last night that my organic teeny tiny carrots had no nutrition information printed on the package. I mean, they look like carrots. And it says "carrots" on the front. But without the government's intervention, how do I really know they are carrots? Hm?

I was serving them as a side dish to my steak and potatoes and I wanted to know how much of the little devils made up a serving. I thought it was five - which I think is funny so I wanted to be sure and, lo, no info. The reason I think five mini carrots as a serving is funny is because a serving of Cheetos is about 34  pieces but, of course, who is going to count to 34 when you're eating Cheetos? Sorry, I think the serving ends when you reach the bottom of the bag.

I went to get the serving information off the Cheetos bag so I could accurately compare that to the serving size of the little carrots but I ate all the Cheetos and all I'm left with is this bag of miniature vegetables.

Hello? Did you hear that? That sound, boys and girls, was the timer on the oven for the last batch of cookies. Time to wrap this up and start making dinner. Mushroom risotto. The Chateauneuf-du-Pape is already open and breathing.

Besides, Santa's getting into the cookies. Better go defend the kitchen.

Holy Crap! It’s December!

We started out the month by sleeping incredibly late. 9:30 - I think it was. But then we took it easy from there. Coffee, reading in our jammies.

We got serious after that. Put clothes on, even. Had to find a place that still served breakfast at 11 o’clock because we hadn’t been to the store yet and the cupboards were bare.

Then we went to Costco.

Have you ever been to Costco in December? I don’t recommend it. Not even just one day after November. I don’t recommend electronics stores either. It’s just asking for trouble.

You’ll get your exercise, though, walking from the extended off-site parking lot, dodging kids and the ever present cheerful person ringing that infernal bell.

That sounded grumpy.

Christmas doesn’t make me grumpy. It’s the period between Thanksgiving and December 25th that does. It’s the juxtaposition of the two holidays.

• Thanksgiving - a holiday of giving thanks. Ostensibly, for the things we have.
• Christmas - beginning the day after Thanksgiving, a month-long holiday of pursuing all the things we don’t have but desperately think we do.

Here’s a helpful diagram:



(If you can't see the helpful diagram, try this.)

Actually, Christmas begins before Thanksgiving. Around the end of October, I started greeting people with “Happy HalloThanksMas.” The holiday really starts with the two billion dollars* worth of candy we buy in late October. It’s not Santa that excites the kiddies. It’s the freakin’ two-month sugar high.

Oh, well. I try to get along. I put a tree up in our Portland apartment - the little ceramic one with Lite Brites all aglow, and we installed colored exterior floodlights at the Seattle house while it wasn’t raining. Went to the grocery store so now we have food.

I’ll make breakfast tomorrow and then I’ll dig out the plastic poinsettias. I’ll pop in the yule log DVD. Maybe hum a festive tune. If there’s wine involved, I’ll prop up the tree and plug it in.

The magic happens when the tree is decorated and the stockings are hung. Everything changes after that. And if that all gets done tomorrow, why - the Grinch might need someone else to haunt.

*We spend the same amount on Easter candy. It depends on who you ask - I tried to find a link for you - but we spend about the same on candy than federal elections in this country. And Christmas dwarfs them both by a factor of 10. Again, depending on who you ask. As you can see, the Grinch has not yet left me.