Merry Christmas! I hope you and yours had a wonderful day. And I hope that you have enjoyed reading my blog the last 25 days. I made it through 25 whole days again this year, in spite of some serious work stress that is getting me down. With all sincerity I hope this was an amazing Christmas season for you.
That being said, what am I writing about today? Christmas regret. I have been thinking the last two days about things I regret about this year. I regret that I did not make cookie press cookies with the boys this year for our party. I meant to, but ran out of time. Last night after the Christmas Eve worship service I was really regretting that I had not contacted Karen McWilliams to find out where some kick ass hand bell Christmas music was going to be this year. At the moment I am regretting that we surprised the boys with a wii for Christmas as all I have heard the last half an hour is a nonstop request to play with the stupid thing. I regret that I could not find one of the gifts I wrapped when it was time to open presents this morning. And after dinner I really, really regretted eating as much as I had.
But honestly did any of these holiday missteps ruin the holiday? Will my children look back and remember this as the year we did not have cookie press cookies and the whole celebration was ruined? Will this be the year we refer to as the year without hand bells? Will we be scarred for life? Not likely. I suspect that like most parents I over plan, and try to do too much and when I fall short it is more of a relief for my children than a failure on my part.
For now, we are all home together, cozy in our Christmas pajamas. We are discussing watching a Christmas movie, but I suspect that I am likely to snooze on the couch during the movie. Until next year Merry Merry!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Christmas without Santa. . .
It is Christmas Eve! I hope that everyone is where they need to be, or at least safely on the way. I really hope that no one gets snowed in at work tonight!
I saw something online yesterday that I had planned to write about today, but then at the boy’s bedtime something came up that was more blog worthy than the Catalan caganer. Although I suggest you Google that because it falls into the What the WHAT?! Category. But I digress. . .
Yesterday we finished out Christmas gift shopping. I took Matthew to Barnes & Noble, AND Half price books. Kat took Paul to Half Price Books. Then after dinner Kat took Matthew back to Barnes & Noble, while I took Paul to the gift store at Baptist hospital, (don’t ask). Busy night.
When the shopping was over we gathered at home and were going to have a quiet family interlude and watch the Charlie Brown Christmas DVD. Kat and Matthew had glasses of cranberry punch, and Paul and I had eggnog. Except for the part where the boys could not stop arguing long enough to start the movie, it would have been one of those hallmark moments.
The arguing continued till bedtime and as I tucked them in, they were still going at it. Matthew was yelling at Paul for having “bad thoughts” and not focusing on the positive. Paul countered with an accusation that Matthew was “slow to learn”. Matthew yelled that he knew what that meant, and it was his phrase that Paul was stealing. In desperation I said to the boys that when I was a child on the night before Christmas Eve I would not have risked this behavior as I was sure the elves watching me would have reported bad behavior back to Santa Clause and then I would have gotten no gifts from Santa.
My point was to cause my children to consider their behavior. Of course if you know us, or have read some of the other entries, you know we do not do Santa Claus with the boys, and so the threat was meaningless to them. Their reaction is the stuff of legend.
“Papa, did you REALLY believe in Santa?”
”Well, yes. When I was a child”
“Oh Papa that is messed up”
“Auntie Jen, Uncle Ben and Aunt Julie all believed too”
“No, Papa, you are making that up, it is not true”
”It is true, Grandpa Jerry used to do Santa with us when we were kids”
“Grandpa Jerry believes in Santa Clause?”
“Well I am sure when he was a kid. . .”
“And he is a THERAPIST now? That is soooo wrong”
“HEY! My mom did Santa too; her parents probably did Santa with her as well”
”Oh wow, how could anyone let her work with kids?”
”Talk about slow to learn. . .”
”I sure hope no one finds out that so many of our family believed”
”I know, right? How EMBARRASING!”
I am not sure where I went wrong. Sure, my kids know that Jesus is the reason for the season, and have not been confused with the whole Santa Clause business, but last night I was thinking perhaps I neglected to teach them to be compassionate.
Kat assures me they are very compassionate and loving, to other people, but that this sarcasm and derision is reserved for me alone. How can I be so lucky?
I saw something online yesterday that I had planned to write about today, but then at the boy’s bedtime something came up that was more blog worthy than the Catalan caganer. Although I suggest you Google that because it falls into the What the WHAT?! Category. But I digress. . .
Yesterday we finished out Christmas gift shopping. I took Matthew to Barnes & Noble, AND Half price books. Kat took Paul to Half Price Books. Then after dinner Kat took Matthew back to Barnes & Noble, while I took Paul to the gift store at Baptist hospital, (don’t ask). Busy night.
When the shopping was over we gathered at home and were going to have a quiet family interlude and watch the Charlie Brown Christmas DVD. Kat and Matthew had glasses of cranberry punch, and Paul and I had eggnog. Except for the part where the boys could not stop arguing long enough to start the movie, it would have been one of those hallmark moments.
The arguing continued till bedtime and as I tucked them in, they were still going at it. Matthew was yelling at Paul for having “bad thoughts” and not focusing on the positive. Paul countered with an accusation that Matthew was “slow to learn”. Matthew yelled that he knew what that meant, and it was his phrase that Paul was stealing. In desperation I said to the boys that when I was a child on the night before Christmas Eve I would not have risked this behavior as I was sure the elves watching me would have reported bad behavior back to Santa Clause and then I would have gotten no gifts from Santa.
My point was to cause my children to consider their behavior. Of course if you know us, or have read some of the other entries, you know we do not do Santa Claus with the boys, and so the threat was meaningless to them. Their reaction is the stuff of legend.
“Papa, did you REALLY believe in Santa?”
”Well, yes. When I was a child”
“Oh Papa that is messed up”
“Auntie Jen, Uncle Ben and Aunt Julie all believed too”
“No, Papa, you are making that up, it is not true”
”It is true, Grandpa Jerry used to do Santa with us when we were kids”
“Grandpa Jerry believes in Santa Clause?”
“Well I am sure when he was a kid. . .”
“And he is a THERAPIST now? That is soooo wrong”
“HEY! My mom did Santa too; her parents probably did Santa with her as well”
”Oh wow, how could anyone let her work with kids?”
”Talk about slow to learn. . .”
”I sure hope no one finds out that so many of our family believed”
”I know, right? How EMBARRASING!”
I am not sure where I went wrong. Sure, my kids know that Jesus is the reason for the season, and have not been confused with the whole Santa Clause business, but last night I was thinking perhaps I neglected to teach them to be compassionate.
Kat assures me they are very compassionate and loving, to other people, but that this sarcasm and derision is reserved for me alone. How can I be so lucky?
Thursday, December 23, 2010
A letter to lady in charge. . .
When I was in junior high I had to write a letter to Santa Clause as an assignment, plus write back as Santa. I am not sure what the point of the assignment was, other than busy work, or maybe an exercise in writing using different voices?
Either way, I was so full of cleverness that I wrote a letter that was from the point of view of a child with violent tendencies and asked for toy guns and other violent toys. My socially conscious Santa wrote back and said NO, instead you are getting a stuffed animal to love, and a puppy, and books, and maybe some therapy. My Santa then cited several contemporary war mongering world leaders as examples of what violent toys could lead to.
My mom thought it was clever and sent a copy of it to the Arizona Daily Star newspaper, and if I remember correctly it ran in the newspaper that year. I have looked several times this holiday season to find my copy of that silly letter. So far I have not found it, but I still have plenty of unopened boxes it could be in.
What motivated my hunt? Right before the Holiday season my Matthew wrote Michelle Obama. When other kids were writing Santa he went to person in charge of the person in charge. The back-story here is that Matthew was given his reminder to pay his school lunch dues. Either the note has changed, or he actually read it this time and he noticed that it states that children who do not pay their outstanding balances will be fed sandwiches and milk until it is paid. Matthew does not go to a wealthy school, many of his classmates are on free lunch, and the entire school gets free breakfast provided they show up early enough. The same day he got the note he saw that Mrs. Obama was on the news talking about the school lunch program. No one put him up to write the letter; he just took it on himself to address what he sees as a big issue.
So here it is, more or less in its entirety.
Dear Mashel Obama
My school and prabrobly other schools threaten kids for lunch money, at my school it is a sandwich and milk unlis you pay. I would like to send this leter because I don’t think schools should threaten kids for lunch money, because my mom and dad work super hard and get paid every other monday and pay for my lunch, but other kids parents maybe don’t get paid as much and don’t get at least three weeks of vacation time, and that is hard. Plus my mom works for the capital of Oklahoma City Oklahoma, my dad works for At The Beach and go a promoshine and so were moving to Denver Colorado in April 2011, and that’s BIG!!
From Matthew Alexander Kinkade, Oklahoma/Denver Colorado
My baby is worried his friends might be hungry and doesn’t want anyone to miss out on a hot lunch! Regardless of your politics, it is hard to argue with a 9 year old who doesn’t want his friends to be hungry.
Either way, I was so full of cleverness that I wrote a letter that was from the point of view of a child with violent tendencies and asked for toy guns and other violent toys. My socially conscious Santa wrote back and said NO, instead you are getting a stuffed animal to love, and a puppy, and books, and maybe some therapy. My Santa then cited several contemporary war mongering world leaders as examples of what violent toys could lead to.
My mom thought it was clever and sent a copy of it to the Arizona Daily Star newspaper, and if I remember correctly it ran in the newspaper that year. I have looked several times this holiday season to find my copy of that silly letter. So far I have not found it, but I still have plenty of unopened boxes it could be in.
What motivated my hunt? Right before the Holiday season my Matthew wrote Michelle Obama. When other kids were writing Santa he went to person in charge of the person in charge. The back-story here is that Matthew was given his reminder to pay his school lunch dues. Either the note has changed, or he actually read it this time and he noticed that it states that children who do not pay their outstanding balances will be fed sandwiches and milk until it is paid. Matthew does not go to a wealthy school, many of his classmates are on free lunch, and the entire school gets free breakfast provided they show up early enough. The same day he got the note he saw that Mrs. Obama was on the news talking about the school lunch program. No one put him up to write the letter; he just took it on himself to address what he sees as a big issue.
So here it is, more or less in its entirety.
Dear Mashel Obama
My school and prabrobly other schools threaten kids for lunch money, at my school it is a sandwich and milk unlis you pay. I would like to send this leter because I don’t think schools should threaten kids for lunch money, because my mom and dad work super hard and get paid every other monday and pay for my lunch, but other kids parents maybe don’t get paid as much and don’t get at least three weeks of vacation time, and that is hard. Plus my mom works for the capital of Oklahoma City Oklahoma, my dad works for At The Beach and go a promoshine and so were moving to Denver Colorado in April 2011, and that’s BIG!!
From Matthew Alexander Kinkade, Oklahoma/Denver Colorado
My baby is worried his friends might be hungry and doesn’t want anyone to miss out on a hot lunch! Regardless of your politics, it is hard to argue with a 9 year old who doesn’t want his friends to be hungry.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
22 down, 3 to Go!
Day 22, closing in!
I confess I am not feeling it today. Work has me down, but I am going to try and take off (sort of) tomorrow. At least I am not planning on coming in to work. Maybe that will help. I am putting Matthew’s rule “we do what has to be done” into effect, followed by a healthy dose of focus on the positive. . . Anyway, here we go!
In 2003 Kathleen’s parents moved to Oklahoma City. The first Christmas they were here they had just moved into their house, and were still getting things fixed up. The following year we had Christmas day with them. Over Thanksgiving we had ‘broken in’ the new table in their formal dining room. At that meal Nolen had made a proclamation that THIS table was the family table, and it is where we would eat important family meals, holidays, special occasions, celebrations for our family. It is a lovely table, big, ornate, and can expand and seat up to 20 or something extreme like that.
At Christmas that year, as we sat down to eat our Christmas meal the table looked great, Elisa had purchased new table linens that fit this new table and they were gorgeous. Her china on the new table linens was a place setting worthy of a magazine photo shoot. The table looked great, and food smelled heavenly.
After we held hands and blessed the food, Elisa asked 3 year old Matthew to please remember NOT to wipe his nose on his shirtsleeve. He assured her that he would not. Matthew sits across from me at this table, and his Grandmother sits between us at one end of the table. All through the meal I watched Matthew carefully and he was good to his word, not once did he wipe his nose on his sleeve.
After the meal I remarked to Kathleen that we should turn that Christmas dinner in to the “Priceless” commercial people.
New dining room table? $1600
Brand new table linens? $65
Seeing your son wipe his nose on the new table linens unbeknownst to his Gramma?
PRICELESS
I confess I am not feeling it today. Work has me down, but I am going to try and take off (sort of) tomorrow. At least I am not planning on coming in to work. Maybe that will help. I am putting Matthew’s rule “we do what has to be done” into effect, followed by a healthy dose of focus on the positive. . . Anyway, here we go!
In 2003 Kathleen’s parents moved to Oklahoma City. The first Christmas they were here they had just moved into their house, and were still getting things fixed up. The following year we had Christmas day with them. Over Thanksgiving we had ‘broken in’ the new table in their formal dining room. At that meal Nolen had made a proclamation that THIS table was the family table, and it is where we would eat important family meals, holidays, special occasions, celebrations for our family. It is a lovely table, big, ornate, and can expand and seat up to 20 or something extreme like that.
At Christmas that year, as we sat down to eat our Christmas meal the table looked great, Elisa had purchased new table linens that fit this new table and they were gorgeous. Her china on the new table linens was a place setting worthy of a magazine photo shoot. The table looked great, and food smelled heavenly.
After we held hands and blessed the food, Elisa asked 3 year old Matthew to please remember NOT to wipe his nose on his shirtsleeve. He assured her that he would not. Matthew sits across from me at this table, and his Grandmother sits between us at one end of the table. All through the meal I watched Matthew carefully and he was good to his word, not once did he wipe his nose on his sleeve.
After the meal I remarked to Kathleen that we should turn that Christmas dinner in to the “Priceless” commercial people.
New dining room table? $1600
Brand new table linens? $65
Seeing your son wipe his nose on the new table linens unbeknownst to his Gramma?
PRICELESS
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Day 21
We are in the final stretch here. Christmas is on Saturday, are you finished with your shopping? What did you ask for this year? When you were a child, what was best gift you remember getting?
When my niece Elisa Gail was five, (I think, or six?) And her family stilled in Okmulgee we had Christmas there, (no, this was not the year of the days inn stay, that was another year). I think it was a quiet year, maybe just Clyde and Steph and Elisa Gail and Kat and I. Kat made a turkey and Stephanie paid for it if I remember correctly.
Elisa got up early early to open her presents, and that year she was the one who got to pass the presents out. She had picked a Christmas teddy bear as a gift for her Aunt Kathleen, because Kathleen had a lot of stuffed animals at her house when Elisa came to visit. She got me geode bookends, which I still have. But she got the best gifts of all.
From her Daddy, the cop, she got a tiny gold ring that fit on her finger perfectly. She was so excited and so proud to show everyone her pretty ring. From her Mama, the lawyer, she got her very first BB gun. She was eager to take that out in the back yard and shoot something RIGHT now! If you know my niece, you know that is still who she is. On the one hand, she is a beautiful young woman, on the other hand, she was only girl in her high school graduating class that had pictures of her and the deer she shot in the photo collage slide show.
When my niece Elisa Gail was five, (I think, or six?) And her family stilled in Okmulgee we had Christmas there, (no, this was not the year of the days inn stay, that was another year). I think it was a quiet year, maybe just Clyde and Steph and Elisa Gail and Kat and I. Kat made a turkey and Stephanie paid for it if I remember correctly.
Elisa got up early early to open her presents, and that year she was the one who got to pass the presents out. She had picked a Christmas teddy bear as a gift for her Aunt Kathleen, because Kathleen had a lot of stuffed animals at her house when Elisa came to visit. She got me geode bookends, which I still have. But she got the best gifts of all.
From her Daddy, the cop, she got a tiny gold ring that fit on her finger perfectly. She was so excited and so proud to show everyone her pretty ring. From her Mama, the lawyer, she got her very first BB gun. She was eager to take that out in the back yard and shoot something RIGHT now! If you know my niece, you know that is still who she is. On the one hand, she is a beautiful young woman, on the other hand, she was only girl in her high school graduating class that had pictures of her and the deer she shot in the photo collage slide show.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Wiskers on Kittens. . .
My favorite things
If you know me you have heard me say “you’re my favorite”
Apparently I say it often, and to a large number of people.
I have been known to say it to my nieces. And, umm . . . sometimes they hear me say to the other nieces. Or I post it on facebook and it incites something.
I tell the boys, “Matthew don’t tell Paul, but you are my favorite”, then I get up and go to sit next to Paul and say, “Now Paul, don’t tell Matthew but you really are my favorite”. Then they both laugh and yell that they can both hear me saying that.
I always deny that I have said it. “No, no, no, I said he was fragrant, but you, YOU are my favorite.” Some might say I am too easy with the whole favorite thing, or that I am misappropriating language to mean something other than what it does.
But when I say it I am sincere. Really.
Saturday night at the Christmas Party I got called on it, big time. About 20 of my closest friends and family all showed up wearing shirts that had my picture on them and on the back they said “Judson’s favorite” or some variation of that theme. Kat’s shirt said #1 Favorite in rhinestones. The boy’s shirts said “One of his favorite things”. Other shirts said “no, REALLY, I am his favorite”, “Uncle Judson’s favorite”, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m his favorite”, “Judson said I was his favorite”, “You might think you’re his favorite, but really I am.” “Favorite M.I.L” and “favorite F.I.L” Heather went all out and her shirt said “Judson’s favorite” on the front and had miniature Christmas lights. Her friend Shannon had planned to wear a shirt that said “Judson doesn’t know it yet, but I am his favorite”. Najah was going to wear a shirt, but instead made the statement that people who are insecure feel the need to broadcast the nature of their relationship, but she is confident in the knowledge that she really is my favorite, so no t-shirt was necessary.
I am a little embarrassed by the whole thing. I am going to blame the eggnog, or the cranberry punch, and surely the fact that this was the last party we will have in OKC had nothing to do with anything I felt that could be mistaken for a real emotion.
Currently I am in the market for a new compliment to give out. “You are adorable” is one option. “You’re feet do not stink” is another. I will let you know what I decide. Until then, you are my favorite. Really.
If you know me you have heard me say “you’re my favorite”
Apparently I say it often, and to a large number of people.
I have been known to say it to my nieces. And, umm . . . sometimes they hear me say to the other nieces. Or I post it on facebook and it incites something.
I tell the boys, “Matthew don’t tell Paul, but you are my favorite”, then I get up and go to sit next to Paul and say, “Now Paul, don’t tell Matthew but you really are my favorite”. Then they both laugh and yell that they can both hear me saying that.
I always deny that I have said it. “No, no, no, I said he was fragrant, but you, YOU are my favorite.” Some might say I am too easy with the whole favorite thing, or that I am misappropriating language to mean something other than what it does.
But when I say it I am sincere. Really.
Saturday night at the Christmas Party I got called on it, big time. About 20 of my closest friends and family all showed up wearing shirts that had my picture on them and on the back they said “Judson’s favorite” or some variation of that theme. Kat’s shirt said #1 Favorite in rhinestones. The boy’s shirts said “One of his favorite things”. Other shirts said “no, REALLY, I am his favorite”, “Uncle Judson’s favorite”, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m his favorite”, “Judson said I was his favorite”, “You might think you’re his favorite, but really I am.” “Favorite M.I.L” and “favorite F.I.L” Heather went all out and her shirt said “Judson’s favorite” on the front and had miniature Christmas lights. Her friend Shannon had planned to wear a shirt that said “Judson doesn’t know it yet, but I am his favorite”. Najah was going to wear a shirt, but instead made the statement that people who are insecure feel the need to broadcast the nature of their relationship, but she is confident in the knowledge that she really is my favorite, so no t-shirt was necessary.
I am a little embarrassed by the whole thing. I am going to blame the eggnog, or the cranberry punch, and surely the fact that this was the last party we will have in OKC had nothing to do with anything I felt that could be mistaken for a real emotion.
Currently I am in the market for a new compliment to give out. “You are adorable” is one option. “You’re feet do not stink” is another. I will let you know what I decide. Until then, you are my favorite. Really.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Trim the Tree
The other night I decorated the tree. This year is not a big tree year so I just put up a pre-lit 3 foot tree. I choose to do a southwest tree, and put up the tin ornaments and yarn ornaments my Mom bought in Mexico once upon a time, and added a string of red chili lights, and some white clay stars and donkeys the boys had made. I also did a smaller kid tree in the dining room. When I say kid tree I mean decorated with pictures of my kids, and their lladro ‘baby’s first Christmas ornaments’. I do not mean one that they decorated. Paul is pretty mellow about the whole tree thing either way so I am not sure I could get him to decorate a tree for me, and Matthew loves his silver tinsel tree, which his mother does not. Since she already had to suffer through the southwest tree, I thought I would spare her the tinsel tree this year. The disco fiber optic tree I will put in the boys room when they get it cleaned.
What struck me as I put away all the ornaments I did not use was how many we have. Before you call me a holiday hoarder I want you to keep in mind that Kat and I had been married 10 years and had decorations aplenty before my mom passed and I brought home all of hers. Plus, as a bonus, I have ornaments that Fred-Dick had sent to her from his childhood. Dozens of handmade wood ornaments from the 40’s. His intent was that she use them for the kids at her school, but she thought it more appropriate that Jenni or I get them as that way they were staying with our family.
I have one tiny tarnished and tinseled pink shiny brite Christmas ball that belonged to my Granny Horton. I won’t hang that on a tree, but last year I had it sitting out on a glass domed cupcake stand. I have ornaments Jenni and I made when we were kids, many many from the ornament making day at the UU church. I tried to give Jenni hers when she had children of her own, but she is a good mom and does not want to traumatize her children with ornaments that are that scary looking.
There are boxes and boxes of lace angels that Kathleen made. She learned to make them first year we were married, and it was an annual tradition for a while. We have fans and lace wreathes as well. Some years our tree is very Victorian looking. I have a tiny box with ornaments that Kat and I made with Jodi Thomas-Thompson for the play My Three Angels in Christmas 1991. The big ornament with the three angels that was a plot point stayed with Shawnee Little Theater or went back to wherever it came from, but the other ornaments came home with us.
But perhaps one of my favorite treasured ornaments are the Snoopy ornaments that say Merry Christmas 1977. What I treasure most about these ornaments is that my Mom bought them in 1984 at Pic ‘n’ Save for a quarter apiece. What happens to ornaments with the year on them after the year is over? Apparently they go to Pic ‘n’ Save. We hung those on the tree every year, and told people we bought them in 84 for a quarter. You can keep your Christopher Radko collectable ornaments; this random collection is priceless to me.
What struck me as I put away all the ornaments I did not use was how many we have. Before you call me a holiday hoarder I want you to keep in mind that Kat and I had been married 10 years and had decorations aplenty before my mom passed and I brought home all of hers. Plus, as a bonus, I have ornaments that Fred-Dick had sent to her from his childhood. Dozens of handmade wood ornaments from the 40’s. His intent was that she use them for the kids at her school, but she thought it more appropriate that Jenni or I get them as that way they were staying with our family.
I have one tiny tarnished and tinseled pink shiny brite Christmas ball that belonged to my Granny Horton. I won’t hang that on a tree, but last year I had it sitting out on a glass domed cupcake stand. I have ornaments Jenni and I made when we were kids, many many from the ornament making day at the UU church. I tried to give Jenni hers when she had children of her own, but she is a good mom and does not want to traumatize her children with ornaments that are that scary looking.
There are boxes and boxes of lace angels that Kathleen made. She learned to make them first year we were married, and it was an annual tradition for a while. We have fans and lace wreathes as well. Some years our tree is very Victorian looking. I have a tiny box with ornaments that Kat and I made with Jodi Thomas-Thompson for the play My Three Angels in Christmas 1991. The big ornament with the three angels that was a plot point stayed with Shawnee Little Theater or went back to wherever it came from, but the other ornaments came home with us.
But perhaps one of my favorite treasured ornaments are the Snoopy ornaments that say Merry Christmas 1977. What I treasure most about these ornaments is that my Mom bought them in 1984 at Pic ‘n’ Save for a quarter apiece. What happens to ornaments with the year on them after the year is over? Apparently they go to Pic ‘n’ Save. We hung those on the tree every year, and told people we bought them in 84 for a quarter. You can keep your Christopher Radko collectable ornaments; this random collection is priceless to me.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Do NOT open until . . .
My Matthew does not like surprises. Or, to be more accurate he likes surprises that really are surprises. What he does not like is that anticipation, waiting and expectation feeling. The pressure of a wrapped Christmas gift sitting by the tree is too much for him. What is in it? Who is it for? Who sent it? Is it a toy? What. Is. IT?!?!
When he was much smaller we started putting all the wrapped gifts on top of the entertainment center until Christmas morning when we take them down. This way there is a little less pressure on him, he could barely see them, and certainly could not reach them. Although I remember a determined toddler who had his brother drag a chair over so he could try and climb up to investigate.
He does better now, but he much prefers that we just wrap the gifts and put them up there and not draw attention to them any more than necessary. “I don’t want to think about it!” is what he says. He also has his one or three day rule. When he was in pre-K he very seriously requested we not talk to him about things unless they will happen in one or three days, because he can’t stand the waiting. When Paul was that age, we used to not tell him at all and just surprise him with a family trip, or visit from my Dad. Matthew needs to know in advance, but not too far in advance or he stresses out and can’t sleep, hence the one or three day rule.
This year he has done really well. Early in December Kat got a box from Old Navy, and a box from Victoria Secret at the house. “What is it Mama? Who sent it? Can we open it?” Both boys were very curious. Kathleen reminded them that it was December and did they really want to open every box and be disappointed if there were no surprises on Christmas. So now, boxes come to the house and the boys wink and nudge each other and don’t ask. Will they be disappointed to find out the Victoria secret box had nothing in it for them?
When I picked Matthew up from School on Thursday he had a gift bag with Mama’s name on it. I asked if it was a gift from him that he made in school. He answered no, that it was a gift for Mama from his teacher. I asked what was in it, and he replied that he had not looked. I praised him for his self control and he confided that everyone was asking him what the teacher was giving to him, but that he wouldn’t look. His friends suggested that he just take a peak. “Papa, what kind of kids are they? Don’t they know it is DECEMBER?!?!”
When he was much smaller we started putting all the wrapped gifts on top of the entertainment center until Christmas morning when we take them down. This way there is a little less pressure on him, he could barely see them, and certainly could not reach them. Although I remember a determined toddler who had his brother drag a chair over so he could try and climb up to investigate.
He does better now, but he much prefers that we just wrap the gifts and put them up there and not draw attention to them any more than necessary. “I don’t want to think about it!” is what he says. He also has his one or three day rule. When he was in pre-K he very seriously requested we not talk to him about things unless they will happen in one or three days, because he can’t stand the waiting. When Paul was that age, we used to not tell him at all and just surprise him with a family trip, or visit from my Dad. Matthew needs to know in advance, but not too far in advance or he stresses out and can’t sleep, hence the one or three day rule.
This year he has done really well. Early in December Kat got a box from Old Navy, and a box from Victoria Secret at the house. “What is it Mama? Who sent it? Can we open it?” Both boys were very curious. Kathleen reminded them that it was December and did they really want to open every box and be disappointed if there were no surprises on Christmas. So now, boxes come to the house and the boys wink and nudge each other and don’t ask. Will they be disappointed to find out the Victoria secret box had nothing in it for them?
When I picked Matthew up from School on Thursday he had a gift bag with Mama’s name on it. I asked if it was a gift from him that he made in school. He answered no, that it was a gift for Mama from his teacher. I asked what was in it, and he replied that he had not looked. I praised him for his self control and he confided that everyone was asking him what the teacher was giving to him, but that he wouldn’t look. His friends suggested that he just take a peak. “Papa, what kind of kids are they? Don’t they know it is DECEMBER?!?!”
Friday, December 17, 2010
Festive Attire
I was asked to write about the Christmas I got leather pants. I would, except that I never received leather pants for Christmas. The pants in question were vinyl. Black shiny vinyl. They were not a Christmas present either, I purchased them myself to wear to my 31st birthday celebration. In case you are not aware, my birthday is not in December, it is in March. If you want to see me in the pants, there is a picture on my blogger profile thingy over there on the left side of your screen. I will wait while you go look.
Contrary to what people say, I have not worn the pants to our Christmas party, and I am not exactly planning to either. I have worn them to my birthday party, to Kathleen’s birthday party, to several Halloween parties, to Heather’s birthday party, out to the clubs, and once, just once, I wore them to a company Christmas party.
Before I continue I will say this. They are just pants. Yes, they are shiny, and vinyl and it is recommended that you put lotion on the outside of the pant legs so they don’t squeak when you walk, but they really are just pants. They are not a lifestyle choice, or a fashion statement, they are just pants. I bought them when I was 31 for my shiny pant birthday when 2 other coworkers bought the same pants, and some others showed up for the party in leather pants, leopard print pants, or silver pleather pants.
Christmas 2005 my boss had a huge company party at his palatial mansion over by the state capital. Attendance at these annual events was mandatory, everyone got all dressed up, the girls from Tulsa all came dressed as hookers, (don’t ask), everyone over imbibed, employee awards were given, and then usually the boss took a group out after to see a drag show, unless there was naked swimming, or people getting in the hot tub in their underwear. Are you sure you want to be reading this? It sounds pretty depraved. (For the record, I was not a naked swimmer)
If you are still with me, I didn’t particularly want to go. Work is . . . well it is work, and in 2005 so many of my coworkers were at least 10 years younger than I was. But I understand what the word mandatory means, so I was going. The pants I had planned to wear were your basic black dress slacks. Either I forgot to pick them up from the dry cleaners, or I forgot to lose the 10lbs necessary to get them buttoned. Who can say? So there it was, the babysitter was there Kat looked fabulous in her pretty dress and my choice was the aforementioned pants that didn’t fit, or the khakis I wore every day. Kat suggested the vinyl pants, and since it is not like the party is a formal event (hence the hooker wear), I wore them.
You would not believe the big deal people made about the pants. Seriously? They are just pants. You would have thought they were made of cellophane they way people carried on. I wore them with a nice dress shirt, so it’s not like I was all Billy Idol or anything for the party. But clearly, as people are still talking about it 5 years later it made a lasting impression. I could make a statement about some people have nothing better to do than talk about a pair of pants I wore to a party once. I asked Kat if she thought I looked bad, because it is her job to not let me leave the house looking bad, and she said no, that I looked really Really REALLY good in the pants. My friend Candi, who also has a pair of the pants, suggested that the big deal is that it surprised so many of my coworkers don’t know me at all and it surprised them.
So, does this have anything to do with Christmas? I guess only if I wear them to this year’s party.
Contrary to what people say, I have not worn the pants to our Christmas party, and I am not exactly planning to either. I have worn them to my birthday party, to Kathleen’s birthday party, to several Halloween parties, to Heather’s birthday party, out to the clubs, and once, just once, I wore them to a company Christmas party.
Before I continue I will say this. They are just pants. Yes, they are shiny, and vinyl and it is recommended that you put lotion on the outside of the pant legs so they don’t squeak when you walk, but they really are just pants. They are not a lifestyle choice, or a fashion statement, they are just pants. I bought them when I was 31 for my shiny pant birthday when 2 other coworkers bought the same pants, and some others showed up for the party in leather pants, leopard print pants, or silver pleather pants.
Christmas 2005 my boss had a huge company party at his palatial mansion over by the state capital. Attendance at these annual events was mandatory, everyone got all dressed up, the girls from Tulsa all came dressed as hookers, (don’t ask), everyone over imbibed, employee awards were given, and then usually the boss took a group out after to see a drag show, unless there was naked swimming, or people getting in the hot tub in their underwear. Are you sure you want to be reading this? It sounds pretty depraved. (For the record, I was not a naked swimmer)
If you are still with me, I didn’t particularly want to go. Work is . . . well it is work, and in 2005 so many of my coworkers were at least 10 years younger than I was. But I understand what the word mandatory means, so I was going. The pants I had planned to wear were your basic black dress slacks. Either I forgot to pick them up from the dry cleaners, or I forgot to lose the 10lbs necessary to get them buttoned. Who can say? So there it was, the babysitter was there Kat looked fabulous in her pretty dress and my choice was the aforementioned pants that didn’t fit, or the khakis I wore every day. Kat suggested the vinyl pants, and since it is not like the party is a formal event (hence the hooker wear), I wore them.
You would not believe the big deal people made about the pants. Seriously? They are just pants. You would have thought they were made of cellophane they way people carried on. I wore them with a nice dress shirt, so it’s not like I was all Billy Idol or anything for the party. But clearly, as people are still talking about it 5 years later it made a lasting impression. I could make a statement about some people have nothing better to do than talk about a pair of pants I wore to a party once. I asked Kat if she thought I looked bad, because it is her job to not let me leave the house looking bad, and she said no, that I looked really Really REALLY good in the pants. My friend Candi, who also has a pair of the pants, suggested that the big deal is that it surprised so many of my coworkers don’t know me at all and it surprised them.
So, does this have anything to do with Christmas? I guess only if I wear them to this year’s party.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Day 16
I asked for suggestions of things to write about. It seems many of you are very interested in reading about my leather pants. I am not sure what to think about that. I am not opposed to writing about the pants but I am not so sure it would be entertaining or interesting, or particularly festive. I will think on it. In the meantime let’s revisit the dream of a white Christmas.
When I was in Denver the first week after thanksgiving there was snow, on the ground and in the air. It was lovely, and as I may have mentioned, it certainly made the city look all Christmassy. Since I have been back in OKC it has been cold, but not cold enough for snow, and there hasn’t been any precipitation. The weather persons have said repeatedly that OKC’s chances of a white Christmas are slim.
Paul is disappointed by that news. He says it is supposed to snow on Christmas Eve. It certainly did last year. Plus he has his story about the snow ice cream he and Matthew made. He says they put out a bowl, waited 15 minutes then brought it in and added sugar then gobbled it up. He said that was the best Christmas Eve dessert ever. I suggested he not tell his mother that, as she is in the height of her fudge making and might not appreciate that assessment.
Matthew has been thoughtful on the whole white Christmas issue this year. Yesterday he said he only wants it to snow if he is with Mama. He says only someone slow to learn would want to have a white Christmas unless you were sure your Mama would be at home with you and not stuck up at work far away from your family. In case you are not aware, ‘slow to learn’ is Matthew’s latest euphemism for stupid. A euphemism according to Matthew is a word of phrase that you can say and not get in trouble for.
When I was in Denver the first week after thanksgiving there was snow, on the ground and in the air. It was lovely, and as I may have mentioned, it certainly made the city look all Christmassy. Since I have been back in OKC it has been cold, but not cold enough for snow, and there hasn’t been any precipitation. The weather persons have said repeatedly that OKC’s chances of a white Christmas are slim.
Paul is disappointed by that news. He says it is supposed to snow on Christmas Eve. It certainly did last year. Plus he has his story about the snow ice cream he and Matthew made. He says they put out a bowl, waited 15 minutes then brought it in and added sugar then gobbled it up. He said that was the best Christmas Eve dessert ever. I suggested he not tell his mother that, as she is in the height of her fudge making and might not appreciate that assessment.
Matthew has been thoughtful on the whole white Christmas issue this year. Yesterday he said he only wants it to snow if he is with Mama. He says only someone slow to learn would want to have a white Christmas unless you were sure your Mama would be at home with you and not stuck up at work far away from your family. In case you are not aware, ‘slow to learn’ is Matthew’s latest euphemism for stupid. A euphemism according to Matthew is a word of phrase that you can say and not get in trouble for.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Advent Calendars
When I was a child my Mom used to get my sister and me advent calendars to help us celebrate the holidays. When I was growing up she used to get nice ones from Germany with special chocolate candy inside. What a treat to have a nice piece of candy every day, and how difficult to resist skipping ahead to get more chocolate!
When I was a freshman in college my mom mailed me an advent calendar to the dorm. The same year the professors at OBU put out an advent devotional guide for the holiday. Every night till I went home I read the devotion, and then ate a piece of chocolate.
A couple of years ago my sister Jenni came to visit the weekend after thanksgiving and brought the boys their own advent calendars that she bought at Trader Joe’s in Albuquerque. These calendars featured organic free trade chocolates. The boys were pretty excited and hung them on the door to their bedroom. Matthew’s candy fell out and slipped to the bottom of the box when he hung it up, so that more often than not, when he opened the window, there was no candy reward. Paul discovered with his calendar that the candies were missing as well. As it turned out, before cousin Keenan left, he had helped himself to several of Paul’s candies without telling anyone.
This year the boys and I were at Michaels’ getting supplies for the children’s ornament party and Matthew saw that they had advent calendars so he picked one for himself and one for Paul. I was in Denver on December 1, but Matthew remembered the calendars and he and Paul started in with one piece of chocolate a night. When I flew home on the 10th, they had already had their chocolate but after dinner on the 11th I was ready. Matthew brought me the calendar and opened the 11th window and revealed no candy. So then he tried the 12th, again no candy. Same with the 13th and 14th. I asked if he knew what had happened and he mumbled a response. I tried a different tactic and asked him how many days he had eaten. “I stopped at the 24th, I was saving that one.” I asked him what happened and he explained that he just got carried away, he was counting and opening windows and eating chocolate and before he knew it the candy was gone. Paul said it was probably that he got carried away with the math, because sometimes that happens to him too.
When I was a freshman in college my mom mailed me an advent calendar to the dorm. The same year the professors at OBU put out an advent devotional guide for the holiday. Every night till I went home I read the devotion, and then ate a piece of chocolate.
A couple of years ago my sister Jenni came to visit the weekend after thanksgiving and brought the boys their own advent calendars that she bought at Trader Joe’s in Albuquerque. These calendars featured organic free trade chocolates. The boys were pretty excited and hung them on the door to their bedroom. Matthew’s candy fell out and slipped to the bottom of the box when he hung it up, so that more often than not, when he opened the window, there was no candy reward. Paul discovered with his calendar that the candies were missing as well. As it turned out, before cousin Keenan left, he had helped himself to several of Paul’s candies without telling anyone.
This year the boys and I were at Michaels’ getting supplies for the children’s ornament party and Matthew saw that they had advent calendars so he picked one for himself and one for Paul. I was in Denver on December 1, but Matthew remembered the calendars and he and Paul started in with one piece of chocolate a night. When I flew home on the 10th, they had already had their chocolate but after dinner on the 11th I was ready. Matthew brought me the calendar and opened the 11th window and revealed no candy. So then he tried the 12th, again no candy. Same with the 13th and 14th. I asked if he knew what had happened and he mumbled a response. I tried a different tactic and asked him how many days he had eaten. “I stopped at the 24th, I was saving that one.” I asked him what happened and he explained that he just got carried away, he was counting and opening windows and eating chocolate and before he knew it the candy was gone. Paul said it was probably that he got carried away with the math, because sometimes that happens to him too.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Christmas Carols
Today the boys and I were riding around in the car, listening to the Christmas music on the radio. When Rudolph the red nosed reindeer came on I entertained myself by ad libbing “like a light bulb” at the end of every line. No, I don’t mean I added the usual comment appropriate to each line LIKE “like a light bulb” I mean I sang those exact words at the end of each line. The boys were horrified “NO PAPA you are RUINING the song!!” For the record, I was not aware it was possible to ruin Rudolph the red nose reindeer.
The next song that came on was Christmas Shoes by New Song. So I sang “like a light bulb” at the end of each line of that song too. I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard. Have you heard that song? About some kid buying his mom hooker shoes the night she is dying? What the What is that about? Where is social services? Where is this kid’s dad when he is begging for cash from strangers to buy shoes on Christmas Eve? Shudder. What do my boys think of my creativity? Matthew had his hands over his ears and Paul was shaking his head like he could not believe we were related.
When I was in High School I would spend Christmas break in Tucson with my mom. Her church, First Christian had a tradition to go sing carols to the shut in church members. It was a nice tradition, and some years a pretty good group went. My mom, being who she was, often invited her friends who were not church members to come along and sing. I remember that at every single house, after we sang a few carols they would ask the person we were signing for if they had a favorite carol, and about half the time the request was for “Joy to the world”. Every single time before anyone could start my Mom would belt out “Joy to the World, All the boys and girls, Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, Joy to you and me” and then there would either be an awkward pause, or everyone else would join in on the three dog night version.
Someday I hope my boys are singing the wrong words to christmas carols loudly and horrifying their own children.
Joy to fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me . . . like a light bulb!
The next song that came on was Christmas Shoes by New Song. So I sang “like a light bulb” at the end of each line of that song too. I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard. Have you heard that song? About some kid buying his mom hooker shoes the night she is dying? What the What is that about? Where is social services? Where is this kid’s dad when he is begging for cash from strangers to buy shoes on Christmas Eve? Shudder. What do my boys think of my creativity? Matthew had his hands over his ears and Paul was shaking his head like he could not believe we were related.
When I was in High School I would spend Christmas break in Tucson with my mom. Her church, First Christian had a tradition to go sing carols to the shut in church members. It was a nice tradition, and some years a pretty good group went. My mom, being who she was, often invited her friends who were not church members to come along and sing. I remember that at every single house, after we sang a few carols they would ask the person we were signing for if they had a favorite carol, and about half the time the request was for “Joy to the world”. Every single time before anyone could start my Mom would belt out “Joy to the World, All the boys and girls, Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, Joy to you and me” and then there would either be an awkward pause, or everyone else would join in on the three dog night version.
Someday I hope my boys are singing the wrong words to christmas carols loudly and horrifying their own children.
Joy to fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me . . . like a light bulb!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Good Shepherd.
The church my family belongs to has the Good Shepherd ministry. This is a ministry designed to help the homeless and less fortunate in our community. Throughout the year the children of the church are involved in several fundraisers, the big one being a dinner and basketball game against the youth. Every time the children score a basket the fans throw cash on the floor of the court and the younger kids scoop up the money.
In November and December Good Shepherd ministry packages up food baskets for Thanksgiving meal and Christmas Dinner for families or individuals that need help. A few years ago the children’s minister thought that maybe the Wednesday night children’s mission classes might like to help with that process. This may have been the best idea of her ministry, (not to downplay other decisions in any way). The kids LOVE this. This year I missed the night they did the thanksgiving baskets, but both boys reported to me about it on the phone.
Paul says it is the best night of Frog (Fully Rely on God, the name of the children’s mission class) of the whole year, and that this year he was a checker with Ushyra making sure the younger kids were not leaving anything out. He reported that the kids were going so fast it was hard to keep up with the pace. Matthew reported that there were some kids that had not had the opportunity to help before, and that maybe they thought it would be boring, but of course they were very wrong, as it was the most fun ever. When it was announced that the church had been able to supply 110 families with Thanksgiving baskets the boys were so proud. However, both boys assure me that they can do more at Christmas.
In the past I have been there when parents come looking for their children after service, and seen the children tell their parents, “I cannot leave yet, we are not done, do you see all those cans left?” They take it so seriously. Those children cannot leave until the last basket is packed, because there are real people in the community that will get those baskets, real people who need those baskets, there are names on the baskets, and those names are for real people, some they may know and some they may not, and this group of children takes ownership of that task. So, even though they can’t always behave in choir, and they run in the halls after Sunday school, and the 6th graders roll their eyes and wish they were youth, I love that mess of kids and love that I belong to a church that encourages them to take part in missions, and to reach out to the community they live in.
In November and December Good Shepherd ministry packages up food baskets for Thanksgiving meal and Christmas Dinner for families or individuals that need help. A few years ago the children’s minister thought that maybe the Wednesday night children’s mission classes might like to help with that process. This may have been the best idea of her ministry, (not to downplay other decisions in any way). The kids LOVE this. This year I missed the night they did the thanksgiving baskets, but both boys reported to me about it on the phone.
Paul says it is the best night of Frog (Fully Rely on God, the name of the children’s mission class) of the whole year, and that this year he was a checker with Ushyra making sure the younger kids were not leaving anything out. He reported that the kids were going so fast it was hard to keep up with the pace. Matthew reported that there were some kids that had not had the opportunity to help before, and that maybe they thought it would be boring, but of course they were very wrong, as it was the most fun ever. When it was announced that the church had been able to supply 110 families with Thanksgiving baskets the boys were so proud. However, both boys assure me that they can do more at Christmas.
In the past I have been there when parents come looking for their children after service, and seen the children tell their parents, “I cannot leave yet, we are not done, do you see all those cans left?” They take it so seriously. Those children cannot leave until the last basket is packed, because there are real people in the community that will get those baskets, real people who need those baskets, there are names on the baskets, and those names are for real people, some they may know and some they may not, and this group of children takes ownership of that task. So, even though they can’t always behave in choir, and they run in the halls after Sunday school, and the 6th graders roll their eyes and wish they were youth, I love that mess of kids and love that I belong to a church that encourages them to take part in missions, and to reach out to the community they live in.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Cookie Of The Month
For the record I do not hate Martha Stewart. I think that she is a genius of self promotion. Sell ads for your products in your magazine that promotes the use of your products? Genuis. Plus the whole single mom, doing it herself, making a fortune. . . I support that. Plus I loved her Ray of Light album . . . Ok, that may be Madonna, but I digress.
I heard Martha Stewart had a cookie of the month thing, and rolled it into a cookbook. Really? Like that is soooooo hard? There are only 12 months people. 12 recipes for a whole cookbook? I bet there are lots of ads in that cookbook. I am just saying.
So here, for the 12th day of Christmas, just to show you how NOT hard it is, this is my 12 months of Christmas cookies.
1. January Oreos
2. February Chips ahoy chocolate chip cookies
3. March, grasshoppers, an oddly named oreo with mint filling.
4. April, Samoas, the girlscout cookie
5. May, Thin mints, another girl scout cookie
6. June, nilla wafers
7. July, animal crackers, very 4th of july.
8. August, Mint Milano cookies.
9. September, Pecan shortbreads sandies
10. October, Oatmeal raisin, I like the ones made by elves.
11. November, lemon sandwich cookies.
12. December, my favorites, the mint jojo’s from trader joes.
See what I mean? No big deal. Random house book deal here I come!
I heard Martha Stewart had a cookie of the month thing, and rolled it into a cookbook. Really? Like that is soooooo hard? There are only 12 months people. 12 recipes for a whole cookbook? I bet there are lots of ads in that cookbook. I am just saying.
So here, for the 12th day of Christmas, just to show you how NOT hard it is, this is my 12 months of Christmas cookies.
1. January Oreos
2. February Chips ahoy chocolate chip cookies
3. March, grasshoppers, an oddly named oreo with mint filling.
4. April, Samoas, the girlscout cookie
5. May, Thin mints, another girl scout cookie
6. June, nilla wafers
7. July, animal crackers, very 4th of july.
8. August, Mint Milano cookies.
9. September, Pecan shortbreads sandies
10. October, Oatmeal raisin, I like the ones made by elves.
11. November, lemon sandwich cookies.
12. December, my favorites, the mint jojo’s from trader joes.
See what I mean? No big deal. Random house book deal here I come!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Party Menu
Every year for our party we have a plan. An actual menu where we plan out in advance what goodies we will serve. It starts off as a balanced menu of sweet and savory so that there is something to satisfy everyone. The plan is always in place to not attempt anything too over the top, or too labor intensive, and to be sure that there is enough food, but not so much that people are overwhelmed. Well the plan starts that way. I swear it does.
Last year we started the menu in October. What was good the year before? What did no one eat? What was too complicated? What should have been warm but was cold, what needed to be cold but got warm? What looked gross at the end of the night? We came up with a well balanced, achievable menu.
Then we had cookie day at Kristin’s, and someone made these key lime crescent cookies. Now the crescent part was really hard, but the cookies were delicious. I thought maybe balls would be easier than crescents. So that was added to the menu. It was just one more thing.
Kat saw a shrimp ring at a work event and thought how easy that would be. I mean, really? It’s just shrimp, and cocktail sauce. People love it. So that was a second thing.
Paul was sitting on the couch and noticed the list. “Is this the party menu?” He sat down and went through it. “I don’t think there is enough food for a big crowd. We should serve a ham. Ham is very festive for a party”. So Paul added ham to the menu.
Matthew took his turn with the list. “I am sure that there is not enough food Mama, did you forget the tiny tomatoes with cheese and the basil? Gramma still has fresh basil! That is a good one Mama, people love it.” So Matthew added this to the list.
And one thing led to another, and the next thing you know there is 2 hours of setting out food, and not enough table space for all of it. I had to set out trays of cookies on the coffee table to make room for the food on the table
No one goes home hungry at our house!
This year, however, we have really pared the menu down and things will be under control. I mean 16 flavors of fudge is control right? 2 kinds of mice? Maybe only 3 (or 4) kinds of cookies? Definitely under control.
Last year we started the menu in October. What was good the year before? What did no one eat? What was too complicated? What should have been warm but was cold, what needed to be cold but got warm? What looked gross at the end of the night? We came up with a well balanced, achievable menu.
Then we had cookie day at Kristin’s, and someone made these key lime crescent cookies. Now the crescent part was really hard, but the cookies were delicious. I thought maybe balls would be easier than crescents. So that was added to the menu. It was just one more thing.
Kat saw a shrimp ring at a work event and thought how easy that would be. I mean, really? It’s just shrimp, and cocktail sauce. People love it. So that was a second thing.
Paul was sitting on the couch and noticed the list. “Is this the party menu?” He sat down and went through it. “I don’t think there is enough food for a big crowd. We should serve a ham. Ham is very festive for a party”. So Paul added ham to the menu.
Matthew took his turn with the list. “I am sure that there is not enough food Mama, did you forget the tiny tomatoes with cheese and the basil? Gramma still has fresh basil! That is a good one Mama, people love it.” So Matthew added this to the list.
And one thing led to another, and the next thing you know there is 2 hours of setting out food, and not enough table space for all of it. I had to set out trays of cookies on the coffee table to make room for the food on the table
No one goes home hungry at our house!
This year, however, we have really pared the menu down and things will be under control. I mean 16 flavors of fudge is control right? 2 kinds of mice? Maybe only 3 (or 4) kinds of cookies? Definitely under control.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Rosemead Christmas
As I am sitting in the Denver Airport waiting to board my flight home to Oklahoma City I am reminded of the very first time I ever flew on a plane when I was in the third grade. We were living in Tucson Arizona with my mom. For Christmas Jenni and I flew to LAX, all by ourselves, to spend Christmas with my Dad, Rebecca and her whole family. I am sure that we must have spent time with the Kinkade family in CA, but I don’t remember that. What I remember, what stands out most about that year, was the Casares Christmas in the house on Guess Street in Rosemead.
I think that may have been one of Grampa Roy’s last Christmases, or maybe everyone always showed up for Christmas? All the cousins were there, Amber, Anna, Diana, little Mike, Laura and even Uncle Rick’s girlfriend (ex-wife?) was there with baby Jeremy. I think Uncle Roy was working for a radio station at that time, because all the kids got ball caps with the radio call sign on them. Rebecca had waited until we were there to do the Christmas shopping for the cousins, (what was she thinking?), so we went with her to the mall. Jenni and I paid careful attention as Dad and Rebecca made their purchases.
As soon as we got back to the Rosemead house the very first thing we did was blurt out what everyone was getting for Christmas. DOH! I can’t imagine that anyone was too pleased. When we opened presents Christmas day I was surprised as everyone else that ‘Santa’ had given what I thought was little Mike’s gift to Diana, Amber’s gift to Anna, Laura’s gift to little Mike, etc. Someone got a set of jacks, and Rebecca and Aunt Nancy showed us kids how it was done. I had never seen adults play jacks before, but they had some serious skills.
After presents there was an amazing Christmas meal. Gramma Lucy had made a ham and all the fixing, plus red chile, rice and beans. A first for me. I’d like to say I loved the red chile, but I did not have the taste for spicy foods as a child that my boys do now. Other things I remember, endless games of tag (man could Diana run FAST), and hide & seek (NOT IN THE HOUSE), and in general the kind of family fun Christmas you would want for a child to experience.
I think that may have been one of Grampa Roy’s last Christmases, or maybe everyone always showed up for Christmas? All the cousins were there, Amber, Anna, Diana, little Mike, Laura and even Uncle Rick’s girlfriend (ex-wife?) was there with baby Jeremy. I think Uncle Roy was working for a radio station at that time, because all the kids got ball caps with the radio call sign on them. Rebecca had waited until we were there to do the Christmas shopping for the cousins, (what was she thinking?), so we went with her to the mall. Jenni and I paid careful attention as Dad and Rebecca made their purchases.
As soon as we got back to the Rosemead house the very first thing we did was blurt out what everyone was getting for Christmas. DOH! I can’t imagine that anyone was too pleased. When we opened presents Christmas day I was surprised as everyone else that ‘Santa’ had given what I thought was little Mike’s gift to Diana, Amber’s gift to Anna, Laura’s gift to little Mike, etc. Someone got a set of jacks, and Rebecca and Aunt Nancy showed us kids how it was done. I had never seen adults play jacks before, but they had some serious skills.
After presents there was an amazing Christmas meal. Gramma Lucy had made a ham and all the fixing, plus red chile, rice and beans. A first for me. I’d like to say I loved the red chile, but I did not have the taste for spicy foods as a child that my boys do now. Other things I remember, endless games of tag (man could Diana run FAST), and hide & seek (NOT IN THE HOUSE), and in general the kind of family fun Christmas you would want for a child to experience.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Party Day Memories
Last year I made the comment that I would tell the story of the one year someone brought something not up to party standards. I did not because Kat suggested that someone would take it as a challenge and we would have to deal with that again. I know that people suspect that it is all me with the silver platters and the pretty cookies and the plan of what food goes where. Ok, so it is me mostly, but Kat started it.
So yes, one year a friend brought tuna fish sandwiches on a paper plate. “Wow!” was the only thing I could think to say, and Kat followed up with “You shouldn’t have”. And really, it would have been better if they hadn’t. But worse than the paper plate on Kat’s table of delicious goodies, was that people ate them. Toddler year old Paul helped himself to one, but spit it out.
Other food mishaps are the years that we discover after the party is over that we neglected to put out food we had prepared. The first year Kat made tapenade it never made it to the table. The same is true of the feta red pepper artichoke dip. Last year we made a sharp cheddar chasse ball that was to be served with the green chile pineapple jelly, but Kat put the jelly on cream cheese instead. The cheese ball did NOT melt into queso very well at new years.
Do you like apple cider? Do you really? I ask because in 2001 no one drank it. But that may be because someone neglected to put a ladle in the crock pot of cider to serve it with. Likewise, no one will eat summer sausage if there is not a knife to slice it with. 1998.
Sometimes people ask how long it takes to clean up afterwards. That question has different answers. In recent years our family; Ann, Christi, Nolen & Elisa plus others have made a real effort to help us clean as we go, so that by the time the party is over and the food is away, much of the cleaning is done. Of course some years it is Valentine’s Day before the clean party dishes are returned to where they spend most the year. And this year, in July, when we were rearranging furniture in the office I found a punch cup. In my defense, it was on the floor between the two trunks I had made a makeshift table from for the Christmas train. I choose to believe that a child left it there, and not an adult who thought it would be interesting to see how long before we found it.
So yes, one year a friend brought tuna fish sandwiches on a paper plate. “Wow!” was the only thing I could think to say, and Kat followed up with “You shouldn’t have”. And really, it would have been better if they hadn’t. But worse than the paper plate on Kat’s table of delicious goodies, was that people ate them. Toddler year old Paul helped himself to one, but spit it out.
Other food mishaps are the years that we discover after the party is over that we neglected to put out food we had prepared. The first year Kat made tapenade it never made it to the table. The same is true of the feta red pepper artichoke dip. Last year we made a sharp cheddar chasse ball that was to be served with the green chile pineapple jelly, but Kat put the jelly on cream cheese instead. The cheese ball did NOT melt into queso very well at new years.
Do you like apple cider? Do you really? I ask because in 2001 no one drank it. But that may be because someone neglected to put a ladle in the crock pot of cider to serve it with. Likewise, no one will eat summer sausage if there is not a knife to slice it with. 1998.
Sometimes people ask how long it takes to clean up afterwards. That question has different answers. In recent years our family; Ann, Christi, Nolen & Elisa plus others have made a real effort to help us clean as we go, so that by the time the party is over and the food is away, much of the cleaning is done. Of course some years it is Valentine’s Day before the clean party dishes are returned to where they spend most the year. And this year, in July, when we were rearranging furniture in the office I found a punch cup. In my defense, it was on the floor between the two trunks I had made a makeshift table from for the Christmas train. I choose to believe that a child left it there, and not an adult who thought it would be interesting to see how long before we found it.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Day something
Grrrrr…. I am having a really hard time coming up with something memorable to write about. I am Yule blocked or something. This is the fourth attempt to come up with something good. The other two ended in disaster. I got so bored writing the first one I almost fell asleep, and the second one got really depressing. Really, really depressing. Attempt four came off like a preachy Sunday school lesson. Sigh.
I confess I have internet friends that I do not actually know in real life and have not met in person. Don’t judge. They are sort of like the neighbor Wilson on the sitcom Home Improvement, sort of there, but you never see the face? Some of my friends like Roland or Billy are so funny they make me smile just thinking about them and some of the things they have done or said.
Then there is Texas Jay. I call him that because he lives in Texas, and because when we became friends I was working with another Jay, and have a former roommate named Jay, and I would start these stories and Kat would stop me and say “which Jay?” so the nickname Texas Jay was born and sort of stuck. What can I say about Texas Jay? Kat calls him the tall small man. For a while he had a blog and the tagline was “one of life’s little pleasures”. On occasion he has called me up on the phone to talk for hours about the Rolex watch his godfather gave him. I am not kidding, hours. On more than one occasion. I suspect that something in the description is going to make him sound dull, and he isn’t. And no, I don’t really care about the Rolex watch, but there is a whole entertainment factor in the consumerism that I do not have the skills to describe. When Kat was home on maternity leave after Matthew Jay would call at night while I was at work. Kat and Jay would watch food TV and he would chat inanely about Tyler Florence, Ina Garten and Sara Moulton.
Texas Jay lives in McAllen Texas, which is according to him, basically Mexico. Probably the last place you would ever have a white Christmas, (in case you were starting to wonder if I was ever going to get to Christmas?). On Christmas day 2002 McAllen had a white Christmas. The first one my friend had ever experienced in his lifetime. He called the house Christmas morning as giddy as a child. I don’t think 4 year old Paul could have been as excited about a white Christmas as Texas Jay was that year.
Then he called back later, with the cell phone “I am outside in the snow”, “who knew it was so cold?”, “how do I make a snowball?”, “is it safe to eat?” Kat and I took turns answering his questions and laughing at his enthusiasm. The lesson I learned from Texas Jay that Christmas is twofold; #1 that when you decorate for Christmas instead of red and green you can use white, gold and silver to exude a wintery elegance, and #2 that there is no age limit on the joy and excitement that a white Christmas can bring.
I confess I have internet friends that I do not actually know in real life and have not met in person. Don’t judge. They are sort of like the neighbor Wilson on the sitcom Home Improvement, sort of there, but you never see the face? Some of my friends like Roland or Billy are so funny they make me smile just thinking about them and some of the things they have done or said.
Then there is Texas Jay. I call him that because he lives in Texas, and because when we became friends I was working with another Jay, and have a former roommate named Jay, and I would start these stories and Kat would stop me and say “which Jay?” so the nickname Texas Jay was born and sort of stuck. What can I say about Texas Jay? Kat calls him the tall small man. For a while he had a blog and the tagline was “one of life’s little pleasures”. On occasion he has called me up on the phone to talk for hours about the Rolex watch his godfather gave him. I am not kidding, hours. On more than one occasion. I suspect that something in the description is going to make him sound dull, and he isn’t. And no, I don’t really care about the Rolex watch, but there is a whole entertainment factor in the consumerism that I do not have the skills to describe. When Kat was home on maternity leave after Matthew Jay would call at night while I was at work. Kat and Jay would watch food TV and he would chat inanely about Tyler Florence, Ina Garten and Sara Moulton.
Texas Jay lives in McAllen Texas, which is according to him, basically Mexico. Probably the last place you would ever have a white Christmas, (in case you were starting to wonder if I was ever going to get to Christmas?). On Christmas day 2002 McAllen had a white Christmas. The first one my friend had ever experienced in his lifetime. He called the house Christmas morning as giddy as a child. I don’t think 4 year old Paul could have been as excited about a white Christmas as Texas Jay was that year.
Then he called back later, with the cell phone “I am outside in the snow”, “who knew it was so cold?”, “how do I make a snowball?”, “is it safe to eat?” Kat and I took turns answering his questions and laughing at his enthusiasm. The lesson I learned from Texas Jay that Christmas is twofold; #1 that when you decorate for Christmas instead of red and green you can use white, gold and silver to exude a wintery elegance, and #2 that there is no age limit on the joy and excitement that a white Christmas can bring.
Monday, December 6, 2010
All I want for Christmas is. . . Deviled Eggs?
The other night at dinner Paul said “There is not a holiday that does not include deviled eggs”. Matthew was quick to point out that Halloween does not include deviled eggs, but that it probably should, except that you would not want to get a deviled egg going trick or treating. Paul said he might. I do not doubt that is true.
When Paul was in preschool they had a holiday lunch at the preschool one year. Parents were invited to attend and eat a traditional turkey and dressing meal with their child. Kat was working so I went and had lunch with Paul. The children had already eaten lunch, but the parents showed up, the kids were allowed to eat again, with the family. (I still haven’t figured that out, but 2nd lunch? Total hit with my boys).
I don’t remember what all Paul ate, except that he made short work of several deviled eggs. Then he went back for more. Then he ate mine. He was going back for a third round when his teacher pointed out that there were not many left and he should probably leave those for others. He wasn’t crazy about that idea.
To distract him, I offered him a piece of pie instead. He took the pie, walked over to his teacher and asked her if he could trade the pie for more deviled eggs. What could she say? She gave him the deviled eggs.
Now that Paul is older he and his brother both make deviled eggs for holiday events. Paul likes his to have some kick; he uses spicy mustard, paprika, maybe some tapatio sauce, some red pepper. . . Matthew says his deviled eggs are more on the heavenly side, and have a sweeter taste, as he adds mayonnaise, and sometimes sweet pickle relish. How many 9 and 12 year olds do you know that have their own secret deviled egg recipes?
When Paul was in preschool they had a holiday lunch at the preschool one year. Parents were invited to attend and eat a traditional turkey and dressing meal with their child. Kat was working so I went and had lunch with Paul. The children had already eaten lunch, but the parents showed up, the kids were allowed to eat again, with the family. (I still haven’t figured that out, but 2nd lunch? Total hit with my boys).
I don’t remember what all Paul ate, except that he made short work of several deviled eggs. Then he went back for more. Then he ate mine. He was going back for a third round when his teacher pointed out that there were not many left and he should probably leave those for others. He wasn’t crazy about that idea.
To distract him, I offered him a piece of pie instead. He took the pie, walked over to his teacher and asked her if he could trade the pie for more deviled eggs. What could she say? She gave him the deviled eggs.
Now that Paul is older he and his brother both make deviled eggs for holiday events. Paul likes his to have some kick; he uses spicy mustard, paprika, maybe some tapatio sauce, some red pepper. . . Matthew says his deviled eggs are more on the heavenly side, and have a sweeter taste, as he adds mayonnaise, and sometimes sweet pickle relish. How many 9 and 12 year olds do you know that have their own secret deviled egg recipes?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Completely Innapropriate
*** This is a warning. The following post is slightly inappropriate. Please do not read if you are easily offended.
A few years back I took the boys to see a home school choir concert (no THAT is not the inappropriate part, and there will be no home school jokes today). The concert was held in a big church in Yukon. My nieces Rachel and Julia were singing. Kat had to work so the boys and I went to the concert.
The singing was lovely, although the concert was very long. The girls were beautiful. The concert director dressed like a cross between a Vegas showgirl and a drag queen, but I digress.
At intermission I left the boys with their Aunt Ann and went to the visit the restroom. While in the restroom I was standing at the urinal, doing what one does in that situation, minding my own business, looking directly in front of me, when someone came up behind me and touched me inappropriately. I nearly jumped out of my skin and almost peed on my hand. I am simply not accustomed to having someone grab my @$$ in the men’s room AT A Church!
When I managed to compose myself, (and zip up) turned to face the person who wanted to be my new friend. Imagine my shock when I discovered it was Baby Scott, my now 21 year old nephew. “Man Uncle Judson, I didn’t know you could jump that high!”
What does a responsible man do in a situation like this? I told his mother.
She of course found the story to be high-larious and giggled through the second half of the concert.
That is Baby Scott for you.
A few years back I took the boys to see a home school choir concert (no THAT is not the inappropriate part, and there will be no home school jokes today). The concert was held in a big church in Yukon. My nieces Rachel and Julia were singing. Kat had to work so the boys and I went to the concert.
The singing was lovely, although the concert was very long. The girls were beautiful. The concert director dressed like a cross between a Vegas showgirl and a drag queen, but I digress.
At intermission I left the boys with their Aunt Ann and went to the visit the restroom. While in the restroom I was standing at the urinal, doing what one does in that situation, minding my own business, looking directly in front of me, when someone came up behind me and touched me inappropriately. I nearly jumped out of my skin and almost peed on my hand. I am simply not accustomed to having someone grab my @$$ in the men’s room AT A Church!
When I managed to compose myself, (and zip up) turned to face the person who wanted to be my new friend. Imagine my shock when I discovered it was Baby Scott, my now 21 year old nephew. “Man Uncle Judson, I didn’t know you could jump that high!”
What does a responsible man do in a situation like this? I told his mother.
She of course found the story to be high-larious and giggled through the second half of the concert.
That is Baby Scott for you.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Christmas Wrapping
When my sister and I were little my Mom was very careful to be sure that we got equal number of presents. I know from later on that she always spent the same amount of money on both of us, sometimes keeping separate envelopes of cash and making purchases from both until all the money in each was gone.
At some point it became more of a challenge to spend the same amount of money on both of us AND give the same number of presents. What do you do when you purchase a futon bed for one child and the other one has to transport all his gifts back to Oklahoma by plane?
Some years Mom would hit Bookman’s and the last 4 or 5 presents were paperback books. There was the year she gave me empty cases with post it notes that said Tuna Turner or Amy Grant. Tuna Turner? What the What? Too much 2am eggnog I think. If I remember correctly, the point was that she had the tapes she purchased but could not find them for me on Christmas Eve. The most memorable year however I opened 6 different packages each with 2 new white socks in them.
Now that I am a parent I have more appreciation for this. I get the last minute wrapping, and the “where did I hide all the gifts panic”. I used to wrap pretty packages, but I spend less time on that now, because they are only going to rip the paper off, and there is very little appreciation of the package in advance. Plus if I put wrapped presents out too soon My Matthew with his one or three day rule cannot stand knowing that there are presents for him RIGHT THERE, and that he has to wait. I have not resorted to the socks trick yet, but I admit to packaging 2 books for Paul together and wrapping them and calling it one gift, so that the numbers work out even.
At some point it became more of a challenge to spend the same amount of money on both of us AND give the same number of presents. What do you do when you purchase a futon bed for one child and the other one has to transport all his gifts back to Oklahoma by plane?
Some years Mom would hit Bookman’s and the last 4 or 5 presents were paperback books. There was the year she gave me empty cases with post it notes that said Tuna Turner or Amy Grant. Tuna Turner? What the What? Too much 2am eggnog I think. If I remember correctly, the point was that she had the tapes she purchased but could not find them for me on Christmas Eve. The most memorable year however I opened 6 different packages each with 2 new white socks in them.
Now that I am a parent I have more appreciation for this. I get the last minute wrapping, and the “where did I hide all the gifts panic”. I used to wrap pretty packages, but I spend less time on that now, because they are only going to rip the paper off, and there is very little appreciation of the package in advance. Plus if I put wrapped presents out too soon My Matthew with his one or three day rule cannot stand knowing that there are presents for him RIGHT THERE, and that he has to wait. I have not resorted to the socks trick yet, but I admit to packaging 2 books for Paul together and wrapping them and calling it one gift, so that the numbers work out even.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Nitty Gritty Christmas
I have been in Denver a lot this holiday season. As I drive around the Mercedes I use when I am here I keep hearing this “Colorado Christmas” by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Ok, even just typing that I feel like I need hand sanitizer. The chorus of the song is
“But all along the Rockies you can feel it in the air
From Telluride to Boulder down below
The closest thing to heaven on this planet anywhere
Is a quiet Christmas morning in the Colorado snow”
I don’t want to take away from anyone’s Christmas fantasy, and it sure is lovely here in Denver, and I cannot deny that it is very picture perfect Christmas looking sometimes, but really? The closest thing to Heaven? Did they get a kickback from the tourism department for writing that line? And that is not even my biggest issue with the song. The last line verse says
“Now the sun is setting in the California sky
And I can't find the spirit anywhere
So I think it's time for me to tell Los Angeles goodbye
I'm going back home to look for Christmas there”
Ok, I get the whole midnight train to Georgia vibe, going home to simpler place and time vibe, but really? Can’t find the spirit anywhere? Are you even trying? Suck it up man and quit your bit, er complaining. Seriously!
The truth is that my family is in the process of moving to Denver. Currently I work 2 weeks in Denver, 1 week in Oklahoma City, and then back to Denver for 2 weeks. This will continue until June of 2011. It is a baptism of fire work wise, but slightly less idea for my family and me. To help my littlest one cope with this separation and the transition we have 2 “family rules” we live by, and they have been boiled down to short phrases he often repeats to himself when he needs some motivation. The first rule is “we do what has to be done”. The second is “we will make it work”. He has added a few extra rules for himself “focus on the positive, Always!” Another one he stole from Heather; “FIDO” which means, forget it drive on. His last rule is pure genius though, and applies to this dirty grimy Christmas song. “You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.” Sort of variation on bloom where you are planted or when life gives you limes, make margaritas.
Do I want to spend the first 2 weeks of the holiday season away from Kat and the boys? Or course not. Is a Denver style Christmas what I am used to? No! (They do not even know the BC Clark jingle here, how can they tell it is Christmas?) That being said, I do see the holiday spirit here. The same as I would expect to find it anywhere I happened to be for the holidays.
“But all along the Rockies you can feel it in the air
From Telluride to Boulder down below
The closest thing to heaven on this planet anywhere
Is a quiet Christmas morning in the Colorado snow”
I don’t want to take away from anyone’s Christmas fantasy, and it sure is lovely here in Denver, and I cannot deny that it is very picture perfect Christmas looking sometimes, but really? The closest thing to Heaven? Did they get a kickback from the tourism department for writing that line? And that is not even my biggest issue with the song. The last line verse says
“Now the sun is setting in the California sky
And I can't find the spirit anywhere
So I think it's time for me to tell Los Angeles goodbye
I'm going back home to look for Christmas there”
Ok, I get the whole midnight train to Georgia vibe, going home to simpler place and time vibe, but really? Can’t find the spirit anywhere? Are you even trying? Suck it up man and quit your bit, er complaining. Seriously!
The truth is that my family is in the process of moving to Denver. Currently I work 2 weeks in Denver, 1 week in Oklahoma City, and then back to Denver for 2 weeks. This will continue until June of 2011. It is a baptism of fire work wise, but slightly less idea for my family and me. To help my littlest one cope with this separation and the transition we have 2 “family rules” we live by, and they have been boiled down to short phrases he often repeats to himself when he needs some motivation. The first rule is “we do what has to be done”. The second is “we will make it work”. He has added a few extra rules for himself “focus on the positive, Always!” Another one he stole from Heather; “FIDO” which means, forget it drive on. His last rule is pure genius though, and applies to this dirty grimy Christmas song. “You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit.” Sort of variation on bloom where you are planted or when life gives you limes, make margaritas.
Do I want to spend the first 2 weeks of the holiday season away from Kat and the boys? Or course not. Is a Denver style Christmas what I am used to? No! (They do not even know the BC Clark jingle here, how can they tell it is Christmas?) That being said, I do see the holiday spirit here. The same as I would expect to find it anywhere I happened to be for the holidays.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tis the Season for Fudge!
If you know Kathleen, you probably have tasted her fudge. To say that she makes good fudge is like saying Will Shakespeare wrote some stuff. People who do not even like fudge like Kathleen’s fudge, (My Dad). People have been known to call the house, late at night, begging for more. When I say Kat sells it like crack I am not joking, she gives the first sample free and then she has you hooked. She had two ladies from church buying more every Wednesday and Sunday from Halloween to New Years last year. They may have single handedly paid for our Christmas party.
I thought I would share with you how this all began. The first year we were married we were poor college students, and Kat remembered that her Dad had made fudge to give as gifts and asked him for the recipe. The recipe makes 5 pounds of fudge per batch. It is rumored to be the secret recipe of one of the big chocolate candy companies, but I don’t know if that is true. When we looked at the ingredients for their fudge, they have things in there that this recipe does not. Plus, Kat has made changes over the years to get better results.
The first year, and for many years after that, every time Kat made the fudge there was that “Oh Daddy” moment where the first batch of the year wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do and she would have to call her dad for instructions. The very first year after they moved to Oklahoma, we jumped in the car with the mixing bowl and drove over there to show him what the problem was. Nolen always has the answer, (usually it is keep stirring).
Somehow something that she made and gave away when we had no money became something people start asking about in October and nice little side business for the holidays. At last count she has at least 20 varieties of fudge she can make (the milk chocolate one is on request only because our family thinks it is too sweet). She named the fudge “Granfa Owin’s Fudge”, to honor her dad, and sort of as a joke because when her folks moved here for a short season Paul called his grandparents granfa owin and granfa esa. (Although he spoke much clearer than that would indicate and had called them Father and Gramma for years before that).
The lables used to have a clip art image of a funny old man in baker's garb. Last year Kat had Matthew hand-write Granfa Owin’s fudge and used that to print the labels. I LOVE the new lable's and Matthew is proud of his contribution. Paul helped come up with the name candy cane fudge for the peppermint fudge. Matthew also has what he calls “Matthew’s special batch”. When Kat makes fudge if there is a small amount left over that will not fill a container she just adds it to a container that has the leftovers of previous batches, so that what Matthew gets is a layered batch of several flavors. He swears it is the best flavor of all because he knows Mama makes it just for him.
This year I was in Denver when Kat made her first batch. Both boys reported to me on the phone about it. Matthew said very excitedly “it is FUDGE season!” and Paul reported “Mama has opened her fudge store in the kitchen, must be close to the holidays!”
Kat has mentioned that some day she would not mind opening a small candy store to sell her fudge and other candy. When we drive around town the boys often point out small buildings they think would make great candy stores. Paul favors a store that used to be something else but we could paint funky colors, “like a gas station or barber shop”. Matthew says 2 colors is enough, like brown and pink but that is all, he says “better to not go all crazy like Paul”. Matthew has also said if Mama would teach him and Paul the recipe they could open stores other places, and we could all get rich that way. I am not sure if that is true, but for sure part of their holiday tradition is the fudge.
Not long ago they were asking Kat if she would ever give the recipe to some future girlfriend or wife that they possibly might have one day a long way away. Kat jokingly said no, she would not, that it was only for blood family. Matthew explained to Paul,”that way no one is trying to date us just for the secret recipe.” In case you have not seen our invitation for our Christmas party this year, it promises the secret Granfa Owin’s fudge recipe. When Paul read that his eyes got huge, “PAPA, NO!! DON’T DO IT!” The joke is that the recipe I offered up is a strongly censored one that leaves most ingredients and most of the steps out. I do know how to keep a secret.
I thought I would share with you how this all began. The first year we were married we were poor college students, and Kat remembered that her Dad had made fudge to give as gifts and asked him for the recipe. The recipe makes 5 pounds of fudge per batch. It is rumored to be the secret recipe of one of the big chocolate candy companies, but I don’t know if that is true. When we looked at the ingredients for their fudge, they have things in there that this recipe does not. Plus, Kat has made changes over the years to get better results.
The first year, and for many years after that, every time Kat made the fudge there was that “Oh Daddy” moment where the first batch of the year wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do and she would have to call her dad for instructions. The very first year after they moved to Oklahoma, we jumped in the car with the mixing bowl and drove over there to show him what the problem was. Nolen always has the answer, (usually it is keep stirring).
Somehow something that she made and gave away when we had no money became something people start asking about in October and nice little side business for the holidays. At last count she has at least 20 varieties of fudge she can make (the milk chocolate one is on request only because our family thinks it is too sweet). She named the fudge “Granfa Owin’s Fudge”, to honor her dad, and sort of as a joke because when her folks moved here for a short season Paul called his grandparents granfa owin and granfa esa. (Although he spoke much clearer than that would indicate and had called them Father and Gramma for years before that).
The lables used to have a clip art image of a funny old man in baker's garb. Last year Kat had Matthew hand-write Granfa Owin’s fudge and used that to print the labels. I LOVE the new lable's and Matthew is proud of his contribution. Paul helped come up with the name candy cane fudge for the peppermint fudge. Matthew also has what he calls “Matthew’s special batch”. When Kat makes fudge if there is a small amount left over that will not fill a container she just adds it to a container that has the leftovers of previous batches, so that what Matthew gets is a layered batch of several flavors. He swears it is the best flavor of all because he knows Mama makes it just for him.
This year I was in Denver when Kat made her first batch. Both boys reported to me on the phone about it. Matthew said very excitedly “it is FUDGE season!” and Paul reported “Mama has opened her fudge store in the kitchen, must be close to the holidays!”
Kat has mentioned that some day she would not mind opening a small candy store to sell her fudge and other candy. When we drive around town the boys often point out small buildings they think would make great candy stores. Paul favors a store that used to be something else but we could paint funky colors, “like a gas station or barber shop”. Matthew says 2 colors is enough, like brown and pink but that is all, he says “better to not go all crazy like Paul”. Matthew has also said if Mama would teach him and Paul the recipe they could open stores other places, and we could all get rich that way. I am not sure if that is true, but for sure part of their holiday tradition is the fudge.
Not long ago they were asking Kat if she would ever give the recipe to some future girlfriend or wife that they possibly might have one day a long way away. Kat jokingly said no, she would not, that it was only for blood family. Matthew explained to Paul,”that way no one is trying to date us just for the secret recipe.” In case you have not seen our invitation for our Christmas party this year, it promises the secret Granfa Owin’s fudge recipe. When Paul read that his eyes got huge, “PAPA, NO!! DON’T DO IT!” The joke is that the recipe I offered up is a strongly censored one that leaves most ingredients and most of the steps out. I do know how to keep a secret.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Christmas Music
My Matthew likes Christmas music. He really likes it. He really, Really, REALLY likes it. When Paul was little he had several lullaby cd’s plus Madonna’s Ray of Light that he liked to listen to at bedtime. Matthew preferred the Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra Christmas compilation cd to anything else.
On our local cable channels there is a music channel called Sounds of the Seasons that plays seasonal music year round. In July they play patriotic songs, in October they play creepy Halloween music, and they also play Christmas music. As a toddler, Matthew was in the habit of listening to easy listening on the music channel while he napped at his grandparent’s house. We tried the same thing at home for a while, and then when we discovered Sounds of the Seasons playing Christmas tunes, Matthew was very happy. Every night at bedtime he would ask for “Christmas please”. And he fell asleep pretty quickly too.
He is always VERY disappointed come January 1 when they stop playing holiday tunes on Sounds of the Season and start playing a sampling of the other stations. Several times throughout the year he will ask for Sounds of the Season only to be disappointed that it is not Christmas music. Weekly all through October he starts checking to see, is it Christmas music yet? How about now? Is it time yet?
When I tucked him in on Halloween night, he says “Papa you know what tomorrow is? Do you? It is the start of Christmas music!” He says he gets the best sleep with Christmas music, probably because of the sugar plums.
On our local cable channels there is a music channel called Sounds of the Seasons that plays seasonal music year round. In July they play patriotic songs, in October they play creepy Halloween music, and they also play Christmas music. As a toddler, Matthew was in the habit of listening to easy listening on the music channel while he napped at his grandparent’s house. We tried the same thing at home for a while, and then when we discovered Sounds of the Seasons playing Christmas tunes, Matthew was very happy. Every night at bedtime he would ask for “Christmas please”. And he fell asleep pretty quickly too.
He is always VERY disappointed come January 1 when they stop playing holiday tunes on Sounds of the Season and start playing a sampling of the other stations. Several times throughout the year he will ask for Sounds of the Season only to be disappointed that it is not Christmas music. Weekly all through October he starts checking to see, is it Christmas music yet? How about now? Is it time yet?
When I tucked him in on Halloween night, he says “Papa you know what tomorrow is? Do you? It is the start of Christmas music!” He says he gets the best sleep with Christmas music, probably because of the sugar plums.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Here We Go Again
For the next 25 days I will do my very best to post a new and different, cheerful, humorous, heartwarming, and possibly a little tacky memory of Christmas. There is absolutely no reason for this, other than it amuses me to do so.
So here we go. . .
I like to think that I give great Christmas gifts. I like to think that people get excited when I give them a gift and the anticipation of what wonderful thing I have wrapped so beautifully is almost more than a person can stand. I also like to think I still look the same way I did when I was 25, but that might not be the case.
In 2001 when Kathleen was pregnant with Matthew, I was convinced that the baby would be a girl. I had been right about Elisa Gail, I had been right about Rachel and Julia, I had been right about Paul, so I just knew I had some inner knowledge that let me know I was going to be the father of a baby girl. In preparation for this baby girl that turned out to be Matthew, I purchased baby girl clothes. Correction, I purchased an unholy amount of baby girl clothes. Most of the purchases were made at the used baby stores (such a misnomer), or garage sales. However, the week before Matthew was born I purchased some baby girl clothes at Toy’s R Us, paid full price, took them home, removed the tags, washed them, and threw away the receipt. I brought it on myself really. Kathleen just shook her head and gave me that look.
So when Matthew was born his boyish self I had a modest, (ok, embarrassing) amount of baby girl clothes he would never wear. Some we sold back to the used baby store, some we passed on, and some put away, just in case. . .
That same year my childhood friend Kirsten was pregnant. In January 2002 her daughter Anika was born. She was a beautiful baby girl. I was so happy that I had someone close to me, someone that was part of my childhood, that knew my mom, that would appreciate the skill and love that went into selecting these “pre-loved” baby couture, plus I thought Kirsten could appreciate the humor involved in why I happened to have an abundance of these items. I carefully selected 4 or 5 of the very best outfits, the cutest little dresses and wrapped them up in a box to send to Kirsten.
I never did hear back from Kirsten about the gift, but I thought maybe she was a little like me, and had good intentions of sending a thank you card and forgot? Almost every year Kirsten’s mom sends a little something, or in some years a HUGE something for the boys, and unfortunately, most years I forget to send a thank you card. So I was very understanding that no thank you card came my way, but I hoped that Kirsten and baby Anika enjoyed the outfits.
Then December 2002 rolls around and I am unpacking all the Christmas paraphernalia to decorate our home. Inside one of the many plastic tubs I discovered the box I had packed up to send to Kirsten and never mailed. DOH! Turns out Kirsten had not sent me a thank you note because she had nothing to thank me for, as I never actually mailed her the present.
When they say “it is the thought that counts”, I know they mean me!
So here we go. . .
I like to think that I give great Christmas gifts. I like to think that people get excited when I give them a gift and the anticipation of what wonderful thing I have wrapped so beautifully is almost more than a person can stand. I also like to think I still look the same way I did when I was 25, but that might not be the case.
In 2001 when Kathleen was pregnant with Matthew, I was convinced that the baby would be a girl. I had been right about Elisa Gail, I had been right about Rachel and Julia, I had been right about Paul, so I just knew I had some inner knowledge that let me know I was going to be the father of a baby girl. In preparation for this baby girl that turned out to be Matthew, I purchased baby girl clothes. Correction, I purchased an unholy amount of baby girl clothes. Most of the purchases were made at the used baby stores (such a misnomer), or garage sales. However, the week before Matthew was born I purchased some baby girl clothes at Toy’s R Us, paid full price, took them home, removed the tags, washed them, and threw away the receipt. I brought it on myself really. Kathleen just shook her head and gave me that look.
So when Matthew was born his boyish self I had a modest, (ok, embarrassing) amount of baby girl clothes he would never wear. Some we sold back to the used baby store, some we passed on, and some put away, just in case. . .
That same year my childhood friend Kirsten was pregnant. In January 2002 her daughter Anika was born. She was a beautiful baby girl. I was so happy that I had someone close to me, someone that was part of my childhood, that knew my mom, that would appreciate the skill and love that went into selecting these “pre-loved” baby couture, plus I thought Kirsten could appreciate the humor involved in why I happened to have an abundance of these items. I carefully selected 4 or 5 of the very best outfits, the cutest little dresses and wrapped them up in a box to send to Kirsten.
I never did hear back from Kirsten about the gift, but I thought maybe she was a little like me, and had good intentions of sending a thank you card and forgot? Almost every year Kirsten’s mom sends a little something, or in some years a HUGE something for the boys, and unfortunately, most years I forget to send a thank you card. So I was very understanding that no thank you card came my way, but I hoped that Kirsten and baby Anika enjoyed the outfits.
Then December 2002 rolls around and I am unpacking all the Christmas paraphernalia to decorate our home. Inside one of the many plastic tubs I discovered the box I had packed up to send to Kirsten and never mailed. DOH! Turns out Kirsten had not sent me a thank you note because she had nothing to thank me for, as I never actually mailed her the present.
When they say “it is the thought that counts”, I know they mean me!
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