Paper Napkin

I may start requesting turn-down service too.

The snooze alarm is a horrible innovation. Emily already has a love hate relationship with her snooze button. Before Christmas break it had gotten to the point where every morning we raced around like the keystone cops trying to get her to school on time. Emily takes a long time to do things, she always has, and I try not to hurry her, because I think her internal clock deserves respect.

I tried several strategies to get her moving in the morning, and help her manage her time. All to no avail, and sometimes I'd walk in her room to ask her about homework or lunch money, and find her half dressed and passed out on her bed! The morning would end with her yelling at me because I had the audacity to RUSH her, and she hates to be RUSHED! And I would retort that sometimes it's necessary to HURRY and this is one of those times, because the bell is going to ring in 15 minutes, and I'm not signing you in late!

And then one day I woke up and said, "Hey, why is this my problem?" I don't have to go to school. I don't have a problem getting out of bed. I rarely even use my snooze button. Why am I dragging her out of bed like a sack of sleepy potatoes? I decided since it's easy for me to get out of bed, she should be the one to wake me up. So I told her, you're in charge, kid. You know we have to leave the house at 7:00. I will be happy to pack your lunch and drive you to school. I will not be happy to sign you in late, or engage in the epic morning battle we've been having. I'd like a wake up call at 6:45, if you want me to make you breakfast or help you with your hair, wake me up at 6:30.

It's worked really well, because she knows she must get up. She can't depend on me any more as a fail-safe back-up, so, wonder of wonders, she actually gets up and gets ready! And I get an extra hour of sleep!

Things and Stuff

I need to write more, and fill you in on what's happening in my life. I will begin with the immediate: my right foot is asleep. I shall overcome the daunting challenge of writing while there are a thousand pokey needles in my foot. I mention my foot's narcolepsy, because I feel like telling you what's going on in my life will bore you. (You know, the ephemeral and mythical You. The One who vacillates between someone who thinks I'm witty and bright, and someone who reads me to get their recommended daily allowance of disdain.) By mentioning my foot is asleep first, everything else I write will dazzle you.

Thing One

We just bought a house. We sold our last house over 3 years ago, just when the housing market was about to go up in flames. Whew. We escaped with only a few singe marks, and stood on the sidewalk wrapped in blankets, thankful that we had walked away unscathed. Then we decided we would rent until the smoke cleared. Frankly, I think property values are not through devaluing, but I know interest rates are going up within the next year, so we're going to take the leap and hope that if we stay put long enough we won't lose any dough.

It's a beautiful house. The laundry room is upstairs where the bedrooms and the clothes are. It has a nice open floor plan with many big windows, what more could I ask? We close in February, but our lease here isn't up until the end of April so we have lots of time to move, and we won't be moving the week of Emily's birthday, which made her very happy.

Thing Two

I'm home-schooling* Haley this year. She asked to be home-schooled, and she wasn't where she needed to be in math. I keep my kids home for a year here and there if I think they're not quite up to speed, academically. The plan was to review fourth grade math, then go on to fifth grade math and finish up with some sixth grade math so that she'll be ready for middle school next year. But with the tonsillectomy, bronchitis, pneumonia, and various pox and plagues we're woefully behind, and the poor girl is going to have to work right through summer. I really like having her home. She's funny and creative and fun to be with.

*I never quite know what to do with the various incarnations of the words home school, so I've just decided to hyphenate, and call it good. Poor little hyphen never gets its day in the sun-- until today!

Tis the Season

Sheesh, sorry to leave that last depressing post up for so long. I was well for exactly one week, and then I got a cold. My immune system did a swan dive, and hasn't come up for air in about 2 months. I guess I'm going to go see a Chinese meds/acupuncturist dude/chick, and see if that helps. I'm not going to blog about the other unbloggable stuff I was going to blog about, because ... well I can't give you a reason, so just settle for because. On to other topics!

When we first started out as parents, we were going to be HONEST with our children about Santa. We weren't going to delude our children and later have to tell them we were lying! What kind of parenting is that?! So when Emily was old enough to understand about Santa, we told her there was no such thing. She promptly forgot, and believed all over again. After this had happened several times, we were like, dude, we're not going to keep disappointing her over and over again. What kind of parenting is that?!

But we were determined to keep Santa as a Christmas subplot, and so we started celebrating St. Nicholas Day. On December 6th the kids wake up and find their stockings filled with their annual Christmas ornament, a stuffed animal, chocolate coins, and a Toblerone. Then On Christmas Eve, Santa shows up again with new pajamas. So Santa is a frequent visitor to our house during the holidays, which means I'm not sure how well our subplot idea worked out.

Now that our youngest is nine, Santa is even more complicated. How is that possible? Will clearly knows there is no such thing as Santa, but it is a truth that dare not be spoken. And hey, let's face it, Santa makes Christmas more fun, so we may be putting out cookies and carrots until he goes off to college.

Hey, if you're looking for delicious alcoholic drinks to take to parties or give as gifts, here are my two favorites.

Rum Cream

1 can (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
1c whole milk
1c cream
½ c chocolate or caramel syrup (You can make your own caramel syrup if you're feeling ambitious.)
2 T vanilla extract
2 t ground cinnamon
1 pint rum
½ pint of Kahlua

Pour over ice, or put it in the blender with ice. Garnish with candy cane or chocolate shavings.

 

Eggnog

6 eggs
1c sugar
1c brandy
1/2 c rum
1/2 c bourbon
1/2 c peach brandy
3 c whole milk
1 c heavy cream
Nutmeg (optional)

Beat the egg yolks and sugar together until thick. Stir in everything else, except nutmeg. Blend well. Refrigerate. If you're worried about bacteria, you can cook the milk, cream, sugar and eggs on the stove, but the alcohol will kill any bacteria, so you really don't have to worry. Grate a little nutmeg on top.

Blogging the Unbloggable

When you've had a blog for several years, the urge to spill your guts all over the internet subsides. Your kids get older, and you have to respect their privacy, and you start to value your own privacy more. Nevertheless, I'll give you the birdseye fly-over view on a couple of sensitive issues, because they're taking up a lot of my life right now, and I can't think of anything else to blog about.

We won't be going to Arizona for Christmas, because my mom has liver cancer.  She's on kimo, and can't take the chance of being around us, the germ factory. My mom has been plagued with cancer for about 40 years. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that. She had breast cancer for the first time when I was 8. She had a mastectomy, did radiation and kimo, and survived. Then ten years later, she got it again on the other side, had another mastectomy, and survived once again. Just when you thought you had to have breasts in order to get breast cancer, ten years later it recurred on the spot where her breast once was. Sneaky little bastard. And then again ten years later on the other side! It's a cancer reunion every decade, and you're all invited to lodge in my mom's chest! After that they just started to give her monthly shots of kimo, which she's been on for several years. Apparently this made the accommodations in my mom's chest unsatisfactory, so cancer trashed the room, left no tip for the maid, and moved down to my mom's liver. I would say I'm optimistic she'll triumph once again, but the fact of the matter is she's 81, and you've got to go sometime of something. Honestly, I don't know how I will pick up the pieces if my mom dies-- or what my dad will do. But I'm not going there today. So that's sensitive issue number one. Stay tuned for more depressing posts!

Hi There. I'm thankful I'm not in the hospital on Thanksgiving.

On Tuesday I went to the doctor, because I've grown fond of breathing, and it's rather inconvenient when I can't. I was supposed to follow up with my doctor in a couple of weeks, but I decided since this is pneumonia, I'd better not fool around with it. So I went to the doctor and said I was having trouble breathing, and then I said the magic phrase that got me a ticket to the hospital: "chest pain." Had I known this was code for "call and ambulance and take me away" I WOULD NOT have said it. The kids were at home, and fortunately they're old enough to be by themselves for a few hours. I was supposed to meet up with a realtor and go house hunting with them later, but instead I went to the E.R., protesting that I didn't want to be a difficult patient, but I really thought it was unnecessary. But my doctor did an EKG, and then insisted I go. Ppppbbbssssttt.

I resigned myself to wasting a few hours at the ER and then going home. The ER doc did some blood tests and another EKG then pig-headedly insisted that I be admitted to the hospital. I was compliant and hid my IRRITATION, even though I knew this was all nothing, and I really didn't want to pay a bazillion dollars for nothing. But, these DOCTORS with their TESTS and MEDICAL DEGREES seemed to think it was something, and so I spent Tuesday and Wednesday in the hospital. They poked, and prodded, and x-rayed, and medicated, and woke me up at 3 in the morning. But yesterday evening they sent me home, hooray! And the moral of the story is never admit you're having chest pain in the presence of a doctor. What?!

So today I made Thanksgiving dinner, and I discovered how to make Boston Market's cranberry sauce. I love Boston Market's cranberry sauce, and I have been wondering how to make it, and so I thought I'd give it a whirl, and voila, I created a reasonable facsimile. here it is:

 

Pretty Close to Boston Market's Cranberry Relish

1 can whole berry cranberry sauce

1 small jar maraschino cherries

1/2 cup pecans

1 box cherry Jell-O

1/2 cup hot water

Zest of 1 orange

1/8 t ginger (not a big ginger fan, you can add more if you like)

1/4 t cinnamon

Drain jar of cherries and chop cherries and pecans. Grate orange peel. In a bowl mix water and jello until jello dissolves. Add can of cranberry sauce, cherries, pecans, spices and orange peel. Stir well. Refrigerate for several hours. Enjoy!

 

How was your Thanksgiving, and what's your favorite part of the holiday?