Tis the Season

It's Christmas time, and I love it!  I love the music.  I love the smells.  I love the stories.  I love the treats.  I love the lights.  I love the trees.  I love the decorations.  I love giving gifts.  I love wrapping gifts.  I love opening gifts.  I love the family time.  I love the spirit of it.  I love the whole idea of Christmas. 

Last year we didn't get a tree.  Well, that's not completely true.  We had a tree, but neither a real, nor big tree.  The debate revolved around, how long will we be around to enjoy the tree?  I say, one day is enough, because I think it is that wonderful, but I didn't win.  So I put up the tiny 2 foot tree.  This year, however, we have a real tree.  It's so beautiful.  I smells so wonderful.  It makes the house feel like a real home at Christmas time.  I love that!  Besides, I've been collecting snowmen ornaments all year.  I just finished painting them.  We definitely needed a place to hang them, and aren't they adorable?

Turkey Time!

First it is important that we mention Thanksgiving.  Partly it is because I think it is so important to be grateful.  When I die, I hope that no one ever remembers as having been ungrateful.  Second, it was my first time cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

Trav and I went to Parma, to the farm.  Originally it was suppose to be a whole family event, except the outcast in Maryland, of course.  However, then one thing lead to another, and pretty soon it was just Trav, his dad and me!  Three people and guess who was Chef of the day.  Me!
First off, we left in a last minute hurry to try and miss the HUGE blizzard (which we did not miss and got stuck for the night!) and so I didn't have all the time I'd planned for shopping and packing preparation.  The results were as follows:

Three pies, all home-made:  key lime, zucchini, (don't judge it til you taste it) and a traditional pumpkin (not from a can)

So yes, I forgot to turn the oven back down to 350 for the pies, but they still tasted good!

One 3 lb turkey ... breast (and yes we still had leftovers)
Mashed potatoes
Spinach salad
Yams
 Stuffing
Veggie plate
Stuffed olives
Cheese
Cranberry jelly (just in case one of these days I like it)
Rolls
And grapejuice from my mom's grapevines

"Never eat more than you can lift."       ~ Miss Piggy

I was quite pleased with my work!  It was not as hard as I'd imagined it.  I think three was just the right amount of people to start off my Thanksgiving cooking experience. The two hardest things were:  first, cooking in someone else's kitchen, and second, making sure it was all hot at the same time!

But, none the less, all my hard work paid off and many bites later, we were all as stuffed as a Christmas goose!!  

Plus, the bonus was, the boys cleaned up for me!

Car Shopping

(Disclaimer first:  I did write this post when the situation was current,  I just forgot to post it.  Oops!)

Let me give you a summary of my experience growing up with my father and cars.  My father is a wonderful man.  He is a genius.  He loves oil refineries.  He will do almost anything for a chocolate shake, and he's a huge sports fan. However, spendy, extravagant, and luxurious do not describe my father.  He buys cheap cars, and he loves them because they are cheap.  If I were ever to have been allowed a request for the next model, it would have been something like this:  "Can this one have AC?"  "Does the radio happen to work in this one?"  "What color is that exactly?"  "Less than 200,000 miles maybe?"  Air-conditioned seats, remote starters and back-up sensors were not even in the remotest part of the imagination.  Let's be honest, power steering would have been a novelty.  So when Trav said, "What do you want?"  I said, "Huh?" 

I complained about all of the many cars growing up.  However, I have come to realize that throughout the history of my father's automobile purchases, which are many, I have learned several things I could have never known other wise.  I know what a broken radiator smells like, versus a broken fan belt.  I know that there is such a thing as MPQ (miles per quarts of oil).  I know it is possible to have frost on the inside of your windshield.  I have experience both towing an automobile and driving the vehicle being towed, as well as pushing a car all by myself.  I have seen my mother hot-wire a car, jump-start a car, and push start a car.  I know that a glass-top muffler means you can't sneak in if you miss your curfew.  And I can honestly say that I truly appreciate that little latch that keeps the glove box closed.

Now I do know that we don't absolutely need a second car, but Trav wants me to have something for when he is gone and he wants it safe.  He wants me to be completely spoiled and have many things that I have never even had the opportunity to have before, and I appreciate that about him.  So after a few weeks of test drives, thinking, looking, thinking, test driving, and more thinking, I will have a car when Trav goes out of town, and let me tell you.  I will be safe.  It's a 2007 silvery-green Lincoln Navigator.  I've already tested it, and yes, I can sleep in it! 

Family Reunions

In a matter of three weeks time, I attended three different family reunions.  Thus, I have come to some conclusions about family reunions.

Like most families, ours had many ups and downs growing up, but the one thing that we could always count on was food.  We had dinner every night.  Some nights it was homemade lasagna with fresh baked bread sticks.  Other nights it was pancakes, but none the less, we always ate dinner.  I believe that this constant of food and the full sensation some how connected through my sub-conscience with the feelings of love.  So now, when I go visit my parents, I can't help but eat like a ravenous teen, mid growth spurt.  This I believe is an active memory tied to love. 
So now, imagine dozens people and some very fabulous cooks, plus snacks, treats and dessert -- a lot of love and a whole lot of food. 
I think that all families must have a similar relation between love and food, because I was not in want for a single bite for those three weeks.  I think I'm gaining an inch on my hips just thinking about it.

Conclusion #1 -- Family reunions must have an endless amount of food, and a lot of overeating. 

My family are not exactly what you would call good communicators.  This applies on a variety of levels, but most predominantly in the area of long distances.  Every one of my siblings has a cell phone, but I couldn't tell you how few times I actually call them every year, let alone in a week.
However, this does not mean that we don't get along, or even that we aren't close.  On the contrary.  When we get together, such as at a reunion, there are endless amounts talking going on.  The volume is high and the animation is elaborate.  Despite any intentions to go to bed at a reasonable hour, it's impossible.  For me, 11pm is a pretty late night, in a normal situation.  At a reunion, 1am, 2 am or even 3 am seemed normal.  Then a few short hours later, we rise up to start the gabbing where it left off.

Conclusion #2 -- Lack of sleep is mandatory at a family reunion.

So inevitably when you are at a family reunion you are in close quarters.  Situations are bound to arise.  At one of my reunions I got my feelings hurt from a comment.  However, when you're sleeping in the same place, your rooms sharing a wall, it's difficult to find space to get over a tiff.  Another situation, we were sleeping outside, and despite the fact that I am an over-packer and readily prepared; I still almost froze to death because of my five big blankets, I was left with one small blankie, the others being used by someone not as prepared.  What's yours is mine, right?

Conclusion #3 -- Boundries are temporarily redrawn in reunion situations.

I love my family.  But it is a good thing that we don't have a year round family reunion, because I would weigh another two or three hundred pounds, be completely sick and sleep deprived, and quite ornery from invasion of personal space.

But I can't wait to hear what we have planned for next year!!

Old Dog Learns a New Trick

When I was in high school I had a friend, and every time we went to his house we ended up watching the hilarious classic, What About Bob. A sub-plot line is that the son of the very prestigious therapist is terrified of diving, but his father has said he would teach him for the past several years. Of course it is Bob, using the doctors baby steps theory, who finally gets him to do it. So in the end he does a successful dive off the dock.

I took my almost fourteen year old niece swimming yesterday. She wanted to dive from the diving board, but she got nervous so she had to practice off of the side first. I then confessed to her that I had never learned to dive. I always had wanted to learn, but at this point in time I feel embarrassed learning at a public pool and I feel a lot more anxiety about belly flopping then I did about performing in front of a large audience. It would have been much easier if I had been nine with less fears and panic built up over the years.

This day I decided that I would overcome my belly flopping fears and I would do it with a thirteen year old mentor. So after a few kneeling dives off of the side of the pool, I progressed to standing from the side of the pool. Then I just didn't think about it, and I walked to the diving board. I took the kneeling stance that I had learned, with my toes over the edge and my knee lined up. My head was tucked and my hands were out and I pushed off. Then I flinched and screamed. I ended up with sort of a sideways twisting body splash, but I did not belly flop. So after enduring the lifeguard's laughter, I marched back to the diving board. Again, I took the position and then I clenched my jaw, so as not to scream again and I aimed down. It was not graceful. I would not have even scored in a competition, but I dove. I went from the diving board into the pool head first with my hands out stretched.

A few more successful kneeling dives gave me the confidence to try standing. There were no running bounces. Just a nice bent stance to precede my sloppy dive into the pool, but again, no belly flop.

I continued climbing the diving board steps and make several very successful dives in a row. The I decided to concentrate on keeping my feet together with legs straight. That was a mistake. I wasn't ready yet. I still needed to think about the other stuff too much. So when I got there to the edge, it was a tragedy waiting to happen. I thought about pointing my toes and kicking off instead of head down and knees slightly bend. Then I pushed off. I panicked, and you guessed it. Splashed! A belly flop! My pain exceeded my embarrassment and we decided to take a break from diving to try out the water slides.

Just before the pool closed, we did return to the diving area. I really wanted to do it again, but I had that traumatic image burned into my soul and it was a lot harder. I did some successful dives from the side of the pool, and then I moved to the board. I started with a kneel and it was good. Then I returned to the standing position at the edge of the diving board. I wanted it ... but no. It was just too soon.

So I have successfully made some dives, kneeling and standing from the diving board. By successful I mean not belly flops, but I have also made a very unsuccessful dive. Still, all in all it was a good evening spent at the community pool. And my mentor did a great job in teaching this old dog a new trick. Maybe next time I'll be ready to try standing again.

Homeless

Did you ever read that book, The Family Under the Bridge, or see the movie, The Pursuit of Happiness? We we aren't like that. We just don't have a place for the piano, or a closet for our clothes, or a fridge for our condiments.

At this point, you are probably thinking, what craziness in the universe had occurred to allow such a thing to happen -- two blog entries in two weeks? I know it's unbelievable even to myself. But, I just thought of something to write about.

~First of all, would you believe that someone in this world is crazy enough to believe that a place with snow ten months of the year would be a good place to retire to from Hawaii? Well, there are such persons, and they happen to be our landlord's in-laws. Our house seemed like that best place to land, so that left us with the need for a new home.
~Second, would you believe that in the middle of a thriving land of over 100,000 one cannot get high-speed internet, or cable TV for that matter. Well, this is true also, because that is why our first option for a new home couldn't work out. City-planning is not their best quality. Since my hubby works from home, he has a great need for high-speed internet, and thus without it he would be left with nothing to do but watch Seinfield reruns all day.
~And third, would you believe that two weeks is not enough time to secure a new home in which to dwell? Well, again, this is true, since after the assumption of the first home having high-speed internet and then finding out that we were wrong, two weeks is how much time we had left before the Hawaiians arrived.

This brings us to the present. After packing up all of our belonging into a storage unit, we are left to float and wander about as we please. It's kind of a free feeling, in a sort of depressing way. Luckily we have a LOT of family near by, but I do kind of miss my dresser, and my closets, and my pantry. On the other hand, with all of that rent money that we would have used, doesn't Europe sound nice, or the Caribbean, or Hawaii ...

Gardening -- take 2

It's been a while now since I made a post. It was my New Year's resolution to write a post every month, but that clearly didn't work out. Then I decide I could make it every other month, then four times a year and now we to twice a year. If you're setting your expectations high for my blog, you've most definitely been disappointed.

I'm back to where I started: gardening.

I have planted another garden this year, despite my complete lack of success last year. This time I didn't hold back -- no pots. I "rented" a community garden spot and filled it all up (except I'm putting my lettuce in a bag, hoping for less earwigs).

I'm not a believer in the Catholic faith, but I guess some of them must be nice people, because our community garden land is donated by the local Catholic Church, as well as the water/watering system, tools, etc; the whole setup. I am quite impressed with the whole thing, as well as actually grateful the them because seeing as I am currently without a home, it might be three or four weeks more before I could have planted my garden. That would definitely lower my rate of success at this gardening thing.

The current history report of my garden is as follows:

The plot was tilled at one point, but then the rains came and with them came the weeds. It wasn't until after this that I secured my land. So my first undertaking was weeding, but it's not normal weeding. It was more of a dandelion harvest. I had to clear out a large clump of grass and we don't even need to get into the morning glory. It would be a lie to say I got all of the morning glory, but I did my best at the rest, and after two and a half hours of digging and pulling and blistering, I finally got to the hoe. However, at that point I was so tired. Contrary to what I would like to tell myself, my genes were bred for manual labor -- solid legs, strong back, big legs, etc. But I haven't done it in a while. I do not understand how people can do this all day long without a nap.
The next step was planting of course. So I've got a crooked ten foot row each of carrots, green beans, peas, and parsnip. I have two shorter rows each of green onions and sweet onions, and one mound of cantaloupe. I will be completing the planting tomorrow with tomatoes, peppers, edamame and a small variety of potatoes, sweet potatoes and yams. Then it'll be time to see how my farmer skills will fair this year. (When the bets are placed, I hope at least one is in my favor ...)