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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!