Day Ten 2016

Recipe for Disaster.

So today, despite my somehow managing to avoid it, we are in full party prep mode here.  So in the honor of party prep I thought I would share a recipe with everyone.  This is the top secret recipe for my famous cranberry salsa.  I can share it because Kat already shared it with Beverly.  Top secret indeed. 

Cranberry Salsa

1 one lb bag of fresh cranberries

½ an onion

2 or 3 jalapenos

2 oranges.

! cup sugar

1 cup water

First chop up the onion, go ahead and chop up ¾ an onion of that’s what you are working with.  Chop up the jalapenos too.  This is a good time to think about if you want to include the ribs or seeds.  OR wearing gloves, although if you didn’t think this far ahead it is too late for gloves. 

Peel and then section the oranges.  Sectioning is a fancy word for cutting up the orange so that you only get the fruit, you don’t get any of that membrane skin.  I actually do know how to do this, but usually Kat steps in and helps, i.e. takes over on this part.

 

Make a simple syrup of the sugar and the water in a pan on the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon.  

Add some finely chopped orange peel.  Did I forget to mention you need that?  Go ahead and dig it out of the trash can.  Or grab one of those tiny orange cuties and peal that instead, then do a fine chop on that skin instead.  Add that to the simmering simple syrup.

Wash the cranberries and add them to the simple syrup, wait till they all ‘pop’ like 3-4 minutes.  Stir occasionally.  If you go in the other room to talk to Kathleen or Paul, just don’t forget about the cranberries.  After the cranberries are ready, turn the stove off, add the chopped onions and jalapenos.  If you chopped up ¾ of an onion you have too much.  I did tell you just a half an onion but you thought you could wing it.  Typical.  Add the orange now too.  Stir until well mixed, leave to cool.  Once cool put in a clean glass jar or container and refrigerate until ready to serve.

I usually serve it over a block of cream cheese with crackers.  It is also delicious with chicken, or turkey, or pork. 

Now here is the rub. Or rather, if you didn’t wear the gloves, here is where you can’t rub, or scratch, or pretty much touch anything sensitive.  Tonight I mentioned to the boys that once, about six years ago, hours after making the salsa I scratched an itch in a, well, sensitive area.  Big mistake. Huge.  Not even funny. Not by a long shot.

And so, here I sit, with my contacts still in, afraid to touch my eyes to take them out.  I have itches I can’t scratch, and my lips are on fire from where I rubbed them.   

So go ahead, try this for yourself.  Or you could just buy some from Kathleen. 

Savoring the Season

Clearly I shorted everyone 2 days of blogging this year.  I shorted everyone a day last year, but Kat keeps reminding me about it.  I admit that I have been putting off finishing this year because I am trying to hang on to this season as long as I can.  Technically I think I have until January 6^th right?  That is epiphany the day the wise men showed up with their gifts.  I think as long as I get my Christmas gifts and cards sent off by then I am ok right?

What am I holding on to the season for?  It just seems like it went so fast this year.  I know I was preoccupied in early December with work, but even after the DM retreat was over it just seemed like the time flew by.  I hate that really.  I want my life to be quiet(ish) and focused on my family and decorating my home and baking cookies and seeing friends all the time.

 

I mentioned on FB that this year we had a last minute surprise hay ride at our party.  Our new friends Jerry and JC apparently do holiday hayrides every year.  They have a flatbed trailer, (I think for hauling hay for their horses) and they did it all up with lights and hay bales to sit on, and speakers for holiday music.  They showed up to our party on their way home from another party and drove us and our party guests, mostly Paul and Matthew’s guests at that point, through the neighborhood.  There was snow and everything.  It was pretty special.

The next evening Jerry and JC had their own party and invited us.  It was really a very special evening.  They have a nice home and friends who clearly care a lot about them.  They even arranged for Santa to show up and give gifts to all the children.  I know, I know, I am pretty vocal on the whole Santa thing.  But I tend to forget that when children do believe, it can be so sweet and so special when they see Santa like that.  Not the mall Santa, but a Santa that shows up and gives them a gift and a hug.

The hayride was like that, it was special, and surprising and sweet, to be out in the cold, with my family, listening to holiday music and laughing and looking at lights and even singing along.  So that is what I am trying to hold on to.  Even though Christmas is over and it is time to pack everything up and go back to the routine.  Maybe that is what my new year’s resolution should be? 

Mr. Christmas - Day Fifteen

I have been listening to the Holiday Traditions channel on XM radio. They are playing Christmas songs from the 1940’s, 1950’s and 1960’s. What has struck me this week is that some of the songs I am completely unfamiliar with. Peggy Lee’s “Ring Those Christmas Bells”, The Andrew Sister’s “Merry Christmas Polka”, and Frankie Lane’s “Christmas Roses” are all examples of this. What makes a song popular this Christmas and then makes it unpopular a decade (or more) later? Why are some songs always popular?

Can I ask the same question about Christmas memories? What do people remember and hold dear? Is it the white Christmases? Maybe the years with perfect trees? Possibly the years that they attended lavish parties are memorable (I sort of hope so)? Or is it the quirky not perfect things that are remembered? The movie “The Christmas Story” and the book it was based on are allegedly the semi autobiographical memories of Jean Shepherd and it hardly paints a picture of an ideal Christmas, although it is certainly memorable.

I can apply the same question to my own holiday memories, and to the stories I share here on my blog. What makes going Christmas caroling with First Christian Church in Tucson when my Mom sang the 3 Dog Night version of “Joy to the World” instead of the church hymn a better story than going Christmas caroling with the First Baptist Church Santa Fe youth choir and singing “Grandma got run over by a Reindeer”. I have long maintained that people’s lives are more interesting the way I tell it. So maybe it is just that I haven’t told those other stories yet, so they don’t seem that interesting, and by my standard more memorable.

And this was meant in no way to diminish the memories I have of FBC SF. When I was in HS I had so many good friends there, some I even keep up with today; Kevin, Vivian, Christina, Robbyn, Sherri, Sandi, Paul, Laura, Margie and others. An argument could be made that the issue is the song itself, because honestly I don’t really care for it at all. Except that if someone were to say, “Hey what is your favorite memory of the song “Grandma got run over by a Reindeer? I do actually have one, although it isn’t a Christmas memory at all.

In 1993 when Rachelle Maxwell Sutton, now Hidalgo had her daughter Mackenzie it was snowing like crazy and Elizabeth Norman and I stopped for hot chocolate before we drove from Shawnee to OKC to see them. On the way to the hospital, because of the snow, the local radio station played Christmas music, including that song, even though it was October.

So whatever your story this year, or whatever memory you are holding on to, even if I never get around to telling my version of it, I hope it is wonderful. that it warms your heart and makes you smile.

Sweet Smell of Christmas - Day 2

My sister Jenni and her family came to Denver unexpectedly this weekend. They are in the process of adopting a child from another country and the adoption agency is here and was hosting a conference. We met up with Jenni, Kendrick, Keenan and Naomi Saturday night in Cherry Creek and had dinner at Zaidy’s Deli.

I love my sister, and I dislike that I never get to spend very much time with her. It was a nice visit. Her children? ADORABLE!! Do you know what her children absolutely are crazy about? Their cousins Paul and Matthew. The kids were literally hanging on the boys through the meal. When Naomi’s meal came her Dad asked if she needed help cutting up her pancakes, she told him no and gave him a look that said, “Dad! I am a big girl, I don’t need your help!” But then one minute later she batted those beautiful brown eyes and handed Paul her knife and fork and he cut up her pancakes for her.

Matthew and Keenan are almost exactly 3 years apart and some years the two of them struggle to get along, but this was not one of those times. They chatted all through the meal, so much so that Keenan’s dinner was largely untouched. Although, he did help himself liberally to Matthew’s french fries.

At some point Keenan and Naomi gave my boys their Christmas gifts for this year. Each boy got a gift card for Barnes & Noble in a gift bag with holiday chocolates. Keenan had prepared Matthew’s bag and it was stuffed so full it could barely be closed at the top. Keenan swears it only has about 8 of each type of candy, but every time he told Matthew that he winked at him, which makes us believe he may have been overly generous with his favorite cousin. Naomi prepared Paul’s and there were EXACTLY 8 of each candy, and those 8 candies were all wrapped n the same color foil. Naomi wrote the card herself and was sure to tell Paul that she did it all herself. I am not sure whose smile was sweeter, the giver or the recipient.

When I tucked my Matthew in he summed it up perfectly, “Cousins make Christmas awesome!”

I heard the bells on Twenty-Four

Christmas surprise.

This year we managed to pull off a big Christmas surprise. Our first Christmas in Denver we travelled back to Oklahoma City to surprise Kathleen’s parents. It was difficult for Kathleen and the boys to keep it a secret from her parents. We had help from Kat’s other sister Ann, and Kristy Swinney. Erica Snook and Amy Powell also did a good job of keeping quiet about the fact that we had Katie and Kyle stay with us in Denver for a few more days so we could bring them home to OKC with us. The drive wasn’t bad. The roads were pretty clear, although I hear NM is in pretty bad shape. My Dad is stuck in Santa Fe when he planned to be in California for Christmas.

The closer we got to OKC the more excited the boys got. When we were about an hour away my Mother-in-law texted Kat that she was going to bed. We panicked a little, and then we began stalling her. We texted that Kat was trying to post her nightly Christmas merriment status update on facebook and that she, Elisa, should wait to read it. Then we posted that Kat was having internet trouble. Which is not untrue, we don’t have wifi in the car.

When we pulled in the driveway Matthew called his Gramma and asked her to come downstairs and let him in. Surprise accomplished. Kat’s parents were surprised, but I am not sure who was more excited, the boys or their grandparents. Last night as Nolen was trying to go to bed, Paul said, “wait I have some things to tell you I will probably forget. . . “ It wasn’t important what Paul had to share, but what was important is the huge smile on my Paul’s face, and the dimples that he gets when he can’t stop smiling.

"Once in Royal David's City. . ."

Welcome back! It is December 1st and once again I plan on sharing a funny, cheesy, moving or something memory a day for the next 25 days. Why? Because it entertains me, and for no other reason. But isn’t that reason enough?

So for day one let’s look back to Christmas Eve 1991. Kat and I had been married only a few months and could not afford to go home to either one of our parents homes for Christmas. We planned to spend Christmas with Kat’s sister Stephanie and her husband Clyde and his family in Wister. I had never been to Wister, and Kat had only been once.

This was in the dark ages before gps, so Stephanie called Kat and gave her directions, which Kat wrote down on a piece of paper, with a pen. Oh man, how did we ever survive?!?! Stephanie told Kathleen to take I-40 to Sallisaw, then take 59 south till you get to Poteau, where it becomes 271, once you get to Poteau, you keep going to Wister, but do NOT cross over lake Wister, go past the road to lake Wister.

It was cold and dark and the car had a heater that barely worked. We didn’t have any trouble getting to Poteau, other than the cold. We left Poteau, saw the sign that said Lake Wister this way, and we turned to avoid it, crossed over the lake and could not find the house. So back across the lake and all the way to Poteau. We regrouped at the Tote a Poke (go ahead and laugh, but I am not making that up). After reviewing the instructions, we tried again, once again avoiding the road that said LAKE WISTER and once again crossing all the way over the lake. Once again we could not find the house.

Getting a little frustrated we returned to the Tote a Poke and called Stephanie. She was relieved to hear from us and gave us the instructions again. Third time is the charm right? Wrong. Still back and forth across the lake and could not find the house. So back to Tote a Poke. This time we ran into Chad Brooks. Chad and I had run track at OBU together and running into him well after midnight on Christmas Eve in a Tote a Poke in Poteau, where he was wearing overalls and no shirt and buying beer was just a small part of the increasingly surreal evening.

This time when called, Stephanie had us wait and she came and got us. We got to Clyde’s parents house well after 2am, and eagerly went to bed. Around 530 am we were awakened a loud banging sound. Clyde’s mother Dorothy was running through the house banging a pot with a big spoon shouting for us to wake up wake up because Santa was here. Really? Did I mention that the only child in the house was Elisa Gail and she was less than 3 months old? But how do resist Dorothy Forrest? So Kat, Stephanie, Clyde, Marqueta, Jay and I dragged our very sleepy selves into the living room and opened presents. I don’t remember what I got, but I do remember a nap before breakfast!

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.

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!

Day Three

I must confess that it is a fear of mine that I will get part way through this and get stuck, and run out of clever stories to tell. So far I am doing ok, but what if I wake up tomorrow with nothing to say? I wonder if Hemmingway ever felt this way?

My youngest son Matthew was born 9/2001 and had his first Christmas 3 months later. That year Big Brother Paul got it in his head that it was his job to be sure that Matthew’s first Christmas was a good one. Paul’s requirements included a tree decorated with cookies and marshmallows, Christmas caroling, a white Christmas, Christmas lights on the house, a snow man and special presents from Paul himself.

Of course more cookies went in Paul than on the tree, and have you ever tried to string marshmallows? I can’t recall just what Paul chose for Matthew’s special gift, but I do remember that it was more suited for a three year old to play with than a newborn. The night of our Christmas party about halfway through the party Paul herded all the children, most of them older than he, out on the front porch and had them sing Christmas carols to Matthew and the rest of our guests. As it turned out the only song that Paul knew the words to was “we wish you a merry Christmas” and that was about all the words of that song he knew, but he gamely sang it over and over.

I was pretty sure he was going to be disappointed in the weather, but that worked out too. As usual we had Elisa Gail for a few days after our party before we had to take her home Christmas Eve, and it started snowing on our way back from Henrietta. When we got home there was enough snow on the ground for Paul to make a tiny snowman. After it was competed he wanted to bring it in the house and put it in Matthew’s room to keep him company. I recall that he was not pleased to find out that there was a rule about bringing snow men in the house.

As a parent I want to believe that I am my child’s favorite in the whole wide world, but I tell you honestly that when Matthew was a baby I was always somewhere right behind Paul.