Tempus Fugits, Baby!

Much ado about - well, about Christmas. And much ado about much to do...All of the cookies are baked and stored; all of the vittles are in-house, awaiting final prep; gifts ready to be wrapped...It's now a matter of putting stuff away...Or should I say "hiding" stuff, since the stuff that needs hiding is what I need at my fingertips during day-to-day living, but that should be out of the way during the descent of the 20+ family members who will be arriving the day after tomorrow...

For the first time in my adult life, there is no tree...At least, not yet...I'm still conflicted about the necessity of taking up much-needed floor space for something that isn't serving any useful purpose except as a place to hide the pickle...Considering that each of the individual family groups coming to celebrate with me will have their own tree, something they can enjoy in their own homes, is there really a need to have one here when space is at a premium?
It isn't too late to pay homage to Tannenbaum, so I'm keeping the option open until all the other stuff is done...

So, for the menu: We will be greeting the arrivals with biscuit-wrapped mini-dogs, Rotel dip, the requisite chips, nuts, Cheese and crackers, and deviled eggs...
For our meal, served buffet style: Roast Breast of Turkey, Glazed Ham, Swedish Meatballs, potato salad, baked beans, Stuffin' Muffins, (these are individual servings of sage dressing), cranberry, bread and rolls, and a cookie tray...I provide "soft" drinks - soda, coffee, tea, hot chocolate - but anything alcoholic has to be brought by those desiring same...Not that I have any objection, but I spent too many Christmases with people who couldn't remember most of it the day after..."BYOB" pretty much means bringing a limited amount and when it's gone, it's gone, so rarely is there an opportunity for anyone to over-indulge...

After we eat, the children will receive their gifts, and after kisses and hugs and thank-you's all around, they will gather around the kitchen table to work on little crafts, the older ones helping the younger ones, while the adults will gather in the living room for the distribution of the grab bag...Background: Many years ago, I called for a halt to the exchange of gifts between family units as a burden financially for some and idea-wise for all...Gifts are now limited to nieces and nephews...When I was working, I had money to generously gift my adult children and their spouses, in addition to buying gifts for my ten grandchildren...Once retired, I was forced to limit the amount I could give, so I drew on a tradition that my Mother founded - that of The Grab Bag...Everyone loves it and looks forward to it...During the year, I purchase more than 100 gifts, mostly Dollar Store stuff, with a few better things to add trading interest, bag 'em up in brown paper lunch sacks, and pass a basket around from which each person selects a bag until we run out...Each participant usually gets about 10 or so bags, and there is much giggling, laughing, and trading (sight unseen) of crap in the hope of getting something better, which then leads to much swearing at having been ripped off...

Coffee and cookies follow, the kids show off the crafts they made and then the day is done...

Since I have never subscribed to the tradition of some people that Christmas Eve is somehow a time to "visit" others, having always had plenty to do at the Eleventh Hour, I may pop in here sometime tomorrow, depending on how much hiding I can manage today...But if I don't get back, Blessings of Christmas to all who enter here...

Where's All the Snow?

Well, the Big Story was supposed to be the weather. The nor'easter that came up the East Coast dumped feet of snow on many places, and crippled those cities that are usually not prepared for a dusting, let alone a storm of this magnitude. Pennsylvania wasn't totally spared, and York County had to declare a state of emergency. But here where I am, we only got a bit more than an inch. So while I'm sorry for those with cars to dig out and walks to shovel and streets to plow, I'm happy it isn't me. Is that selfish? I don't think so, because we're sure to see our share before the end of winter.

Today was Welsh Cookie day. Those rather plain, not-quite-sweet gems that go so well with coffee or tea. They get mixed up, rolled out and cooked on a griddle on top of the stove, much like a pancake. They are time-consuming to make but some people in this family do enjoy them so I make them. I like them myself, though I wouldn't miss them if they weren't here. Now all the cookies are done, and I'm left with only Rol-Zels and Dipp Stix to do. Uh, well, maybe not quite. There is the Christmas dinner to do, Turkey, ham, (somebody is bringing the ham), meat balls, potato salad, cole slaw, baked beans, stuffing, blah, blah, blah.

Off I go, to tidy, vacuum, and wrap, and make one last list for the store for last-minute store stuff. After that, I'm left with to Tree or Not to Tree, that is the question.

Any thoughts?

Cookies!!

So far, the cookie stash is piling up. Seven batches of various kinds and if I can get the rest of the clutter put away/thrown away, I'll be almost ready for Christmas.

This morning, around 5:30ish, I put the first tray of Crackle Tops in the oven. When I finished baking that batch, I started on Chocolate Chip, and was moving right along, until I took the first tray out of the oven. Oh, woe is me! The parchment paper slipped off the tray as I lifted it out of the oven, dumping the entire dozen hot cookies right into the crevice of the door. You don't want to know what I said. And continued to say as I scooped the mess into the trash. You can bet I was very careful with subsequent trays.

I have finished cleaning up the aftermath of all this frenzied baking and just finished eating lunch. I know, I know, it's only 11:30, but I've been up since One AM.

Now that my break is over, I suppose I'd better get to the rest of the chores that await my attention. (My horoscope today advises me that "tasks fall by the wayside like wheat felled by a sharpened scythe." I never believe that crap, (Isn't that typical of a Libra?), but I certainly hope this is the one that comes true.

Everything but Coats

Well, in a follow-up to yesterday's post about finding stuff in places where it inexplicably ends up, I stuck my head in the coat closet in the dining room. It's not insulated and stays really cool, dare I say cold?, in there all winter, and it's where I store the cookies I've baked for the Christmas season...

I found two winter coats, a fall jacket, a rain coat, a shawl - a real beauty, black with a beaded fringe which I found in the dollar store, for God's sake!, and which has garnered envious glances from some pretty stylish women, a group to which I definitely do not belong...That's pretty much it for garments that got the closet the name Coat...

Further excavation uncovered a plastic bag hanging on a hook and containing two pair of gloves, a scarf, and some lint...I will be putting the gloves in the trunk of my car in case I'm ever in need while I'm out...I'm discarding the scarf because it's ugly...And the lint will go with it because antique or not, it's as ugly as the scarf...

Among the inventoried items: The leaf for the dining room table; the board that serves alternately as the platform for the Christmas tree and a good surface for jigsaw puzzles; an umbrella stroller I bought when my youngest son's first child was born (she rode in it twice, preferring instead to push it), and used twice for his second daughter, who wanted no part of it; a pair of lined boots older than my youngest son which I had saved to wear when I shovel snow - as if! - and which have a split in the side, which if I did shovel snow, would allow the lining and my sock to get wet and my foot uncomfortable. This may be why I no longer shovel snow. Also, there is an oil painting done by my father of the home in which he once lived; the ironing board; the attachments for the vacuum cleaner; two table cloths and runner - no, not a marathoner who lost his way, one that goes down the center of the tablecloth to hide the stain that won't come out; and some ten-year-old wrapping paper; a trio of lace curtain panels that I gleaned from the prop room, (I don't KNOW why!)when we cleaned out a local theater; a warming tray, and a set of those things that you put under the legs of heavy furniture to slide it without lifting...They're called Moving Men.

I think I'll shut the door now, eat the cookies, and take a nap.

This Closet's a Mess!

'Tis the season...And getting ready for the fast-approaching holiday means cleaning, of course...Especially tough this year, since I was "feeling poorly" for nigh on to two years...A cancer diagnosis/surgery/chemo rendered me useless for the first six months of this year, but I'm trying to pick up speed and that means getting in the corners...

The laughingly-called linen closet at the top of the stairs is sort of a repository for all things not otherwise classified...Time to venture in there...

I have a lifetime supply of light bulbs...100 watt, 60 watt, and some unidentifiable wattage...Candle-shaped bulbs and "green" bulbs...Also three extra-high wattage bulbs for reading...Note to self: Don't buy bulbs!

Have towels I haven't used in quite a while, which means more than I need...

Keep toilet tissue in here and believe me, I have lots...And I WILL buy more...I have an unreasonable fear of running out of T.P. so I buy jumbo packs of jumbo rolls...

I did not realize how many extension cords and the things that you can plug about six different things into and they kick off if there's an overload...You know what I mean but I can't remember what they're called...And they're just the extra ones...

Well, it's all tidied up now and that brings me to the super duper hint for the day...

Do not throw away the empty T.P./paper towel/wrapping paper rolls...They have a real purpose...

Measure one of your extension cords, mark the length on an empty T.P. roll, coil up the cord and slide it into the roll. Isn't that the neatest thing? Now do the same thing with all the other cords.

The paper towel rolls are good for those SURGE PROTECTORS!! that's what they're called!!, because the cords to those are heavy duty and don't fit if you coil them too small.

The wrapping paper rolls can be cut to size if need be, but even better for your boots if you leave them long, fold them in half and insert into your boots. Keeps 'em from falling over in the closet...

Coffee's finished, post is done, break is over...On to the laughingly-called coat closet...What treasures await?

Things You Wish You Knew When You Were Younger

Know how the top of the fridge that only really tall people can see always gets dusty and grungy and a pain in the tookus to clean?
I can fix it for you. Really. You'll only have to clean it ONE MORE TIME in your life. Really.
Here's what ya gotta do.
Get out the step stool. Take all the stuff off the top of the fridge. (You do so!) Get the wet rag and whatever you use to clean the dust/grease and do it. When it's shiny and sparkly up there, get out your clear plastic wrap and measure off a length the width of the fridge. (You'll probably need two of these, but just measure one at a time)
Now lay it across the cleaned surface and smooth it out. Works even better if it's a little damp up there. (Told you you'd need two pieces)
Do the same thing with the second piece, covering the entire surface of the fridge.
Wash and put back the stuff you took off the top of the fridge when you started.
Put away the step stool. Put away the cleaning product. Rinse the rag and put it away. (If you used a paper towel, skip that last step.)
Next time you check for dust, you just have to take the stuff off the top of the fridge. Peel off the dusty plastic wrap. Dampen a paper towel, give that top of the fridge a swipe just to enhance the cling factor, and re-do the plastic wrap with two new pieces. (Sorry. You still have to wash the stuff you keep on the top of the fridge.)
Now don't you just love me?!

Here's another one you never learned from your Mother. (I know I didn't. Learn it from your Mother, I mean).
Like green onions? Also known in some circles as Scallions? Me, too. But I resent paying close to a buck for a small bunch of seven or eight of them and not using them all up before they start to die in the fridge.
Well, I learned a trick that means you probably won't buy them again for a long time. And you'll have fresh ones every day. Really.
Actually, every MEAL, if you're so inclined. Really. No, really.
So you have this recipe that calls for you to snip off some green onions - I use the kitchen shears - and throw 'em into the recipe.
Go to the store. Find the green onions (aka Scallions), resent paying - omg! HOW much? - (It's okay - trust me on this.)
Take that measly little bunch home, wash 'em up, and cut off the green part whatever you need for the recipe. Just be sure to save several inches of the white part, the bottom part that has the roots. Find a jar, preferably clean, put a little water in it and put in the part with the roots. In an hour or so, you'll see the green top part start to grow. You can actually watch it happen. Really. Would I lie to you? Before you know it, the green part will be reaching toward the kitchen ceiling, and you'll have fresh-grown green onions (aka - you know) forever. Make sure you keep the roots immersed in water, adding if required.
Just be sure that you move them around every once in a while or the roots will start to get friendly with one another and get all tangled.

Now while I discovered this, I don't have any right of exclusivity, so go right ahead and print it out and share it with your friends.
It's fine, because while someone else may have discovered it before me, I composed this hint just for you so it isn't copyrighted.

You don't have to thank me. Just send cash

This Little Piggy Went to Market

I have a couple of pork chops in the fridge, and I'm hoping to cook them so they won't be a. crunchy, or b. underdone. Pork is tricky. For years, people were told never to eat undercooked pork. Cook it well. (My stepmother used to say, "Cook it 'til it hollers help") Scary stories about the dangers of trichinosis, caused by the trichina worm, which would get into your muscles and erode your strength and there was no cure and you could DIE! So we obediently "cooked it 'til it hollered help." Now, we are told that freezing will kill that pesky little worm and we don't have to cook it quite as long, and drying up every single bit of moisture in the meat. But somehow, it still gets dry and I really don't enjoy washing down my food as if it was a pill. I've been surfing to find a nice, tasty recipe for those chops.
I love pork, in any or all of it's many forms...Roast, chops, bacon, sausage, ham, pulled, pushed, scrapple (you know, everything but the oink), whatever. I love it.

Almost five years ago, I was diagnosed with an insufficient aortic valve in my heart. Although I was asymptomatic at the time, it was strongly suggested that it was serious enough to have it fixed before symptoms became evident and it could be too late to effect the repair. I was allowed to cruise through the holidays, and surgery was scheduled for late January '05. They did hours of pre-op testing; they gave me some looooovely pre-op meds; they put me to sleep and implanted a porcine valve in my aorta...That's porcine, as in pig, as in oink... When I awoke, I had tubes and IV's and --- you don't wanna know...Five days later, they took me out of the post-op CICU and sent me to another floor of the hospital where I had to prove that I could take care of my basic needs - bathroom, wash, dress/undress and ambulate unassisted...
During my stay in the CICU, I was being fed a god-awful diet known as the Ornish diet, which consisted pretty much of anything bland, tasteless, unsatisfying, because they assume that if you had to have open-heart surgery you had been eating a lot of bad-for-your-heart stuff...Not so, in my case, but there's no arguing with the dictatorship that is nursing staff...Oh, they were nice enough to me, but I had
fake eggs, Butter Buds, skim milk, decaf coffee...Even my doc couldn't get them to change it...However, when I was transferred to the DIY unit, he put in an order for a regular diet...WhooHooo!...I was transferred in the late afternoon, and dinner that evening was - wait for it - Pork Teriyaki...Breakfast the next morning was Real Coffee...Scrambled eggs, toast and Bacon...I'm assuming that after they dispatched the little piggy to get the valve for my leaky heart, they made sure that he didn't die in vain...Ever since, I have this uncontrollable urge for barbecued ribs...

So, anybody got a good recipe for these chops?

The Morning After

The dishes are done, kitchen cleaned up, coupons clipped and they're on their way. The shoppers, of course. Those who move out before the crack of dawn to scarf up the bargains offered by retailers across the land. They've put out the merchandise we just can't live without, especially when it's priced low, lower, lowest. (Except Wii, XBox, Nintendo DS).

The economy being what it is, the question is how many people will be up and at'em this year. More than last? Less? Homes in foreclosure everywhere. Cars being repossessed. More people than ever before moving in with relatives. But the tradition of The Morning After will surely continue.

Every Talking Head will have the obligatory on-the-scene reporter to let us know how many people camped out to get one of the forty TV sets at Target. Followed immediately by a recap of the previous evening's preparations for the onslaught. Followed immediately by a recap of the various dinners prepared and served by volunteers to the less fortunate. (Do they really have to film the less fortunate as they dine? Methinks some of the less fortunate may be too proud to attend because they don't want the whole town to know that they're "less fortunate"). But I digress.

Once, a much younger, quicker Me did the shopping thing, and vowed no more. Why, you ask? I'll tell you. Because I want to live to see Christmas. That's why.

Crazed motorists. Elbows. No carts. Snarling and cursing. Long lines at the check-out, caused by lack of cashiers. (Didn't they know it would be chaos?)

So I stay home, read the paper, drink my coffee and digest my turkey. There will certainly be more sales before the 25th. Maybe even better sales as the date approaches. Or maybe I'll just notify my family that Christmas this year will be in January so as to wait for the after-Christmas sales.

To quote Ebenezer Scrooge - well...you know.

Be Thankful

Today is thanksgiving. You know, turkey, cranberries, pumpkin pie. A lot of people are thankful because this is the one day a year they're expected to eat that stuff. They just don't like it but, by God, if it was good enough for the Pilgrims, it's good enough for me.
Me? I'm thankful if there's enough turkey left over for a late-night sandwich, on plain white w/cranberry jelly, TYVM.

Of course, I have a lot more to be thankful for this year. Last Thanksgiving, I was too damned sick to be thankful. Or even care that it was a holiday. Spent most of last year being sick. After January 1, I decided I couldn't continue. To be sick, that is. So I had the tests done that my doctor had ordered, and that very day, I ended up in the hospital. Turns out there was a good reason for being sick. I had cancer. A big-ass tumor in my colon. They took it out. The tumor AND part of the colon. They pumped blood into my vein. Four units of it. Did you know that blood, since it has to be refrigerated, is pumped in cold, and your arm feels really cold, and you start to feel really chilly and needing more blankets? It is, it does, and you do.

Anyway, tumor out, blood in, go home. And the round of medical appointments begins. First, we go to see the Oncologist, who decrees that there will be seven infusions of iron to boot up the hemoglobin, which is severely lacking. Twice a week, an hour + or - each time. There will also be eight rounds of chemotherapy lasting six months, with blood work every two weeks during that time. Also, we must see the surgeon every couple of weeks to make sure the incision is healing. (Wouldn't I know if the incision WASN'T healing?)

Also have to see my cardiologist, since I had a porcine valve installed in my aorta in 2005. He needs to be sure that the pig isn't adversely effected by the chemo.

Now even though the cancer was in my colon, leave us not forget that a mammogram is still important, so we have a doctor for that as well.

Let us not forget my PCP. No, no, no. PCP also stands for Primary Care Physician. He needs to make sure everything else is okay.

And the pills. OMG!! The pills! Used to be I'd get up in the morning, take a thyroid pill, a BP pill, a baby aspirin and a multi-vitamin. For years. That was it. Suddenly, I'm taking all kinds of stuff at all times of the day. Pills in the AM, at lunchtime, before supper, at bedtime. And if I can't sleep, in the middle of the night.

Here it is - eleven months later - and I'm able to live in my own home, take care of my own self, and even managed to perform on stage once again. (Maybe for the last time, but only because of laziness).

So, yes, I'm thankful. And I'll even eat the bloody pumpkin pie to prove it!

Gobble, gobble.

Manners, People, Manners

Are you nearly as tired as I am of having gum-chewing, mouth-breathing, disinterested cashiers who accept your money, (in the grocery store, that could be a considerable sum of money), and hand you your change without counting it out and your receipt with a "Here ya go" or a "Have a nice day/evening/night" without ever saying "Thank you"...
A pleasant greeting from me at the start of the transaction is sometimes returned with a
a. grunt
b. Hello
c. A blank stare
There will be no further communication with me (although the cashier's conversation with his/her bagger, or his/her counterpart at the next register, may continue without interruption) until it is time to announce to me the total showing on the register display...Actually, if I'm using my debit card, it won't even be necessary to announce said total...
At the very least, I would like to hear "Thanks"...It's only common courtesy...That single word says so much...It says, "I'm so glad you chose to shop in this store because I can keep my lame-ass minimum wage job a bit longer"...It says, "My Boss appreciates your business because he's afraid he'll lose HIS lame-ass job if it gets any slower"...It says, "My company gave me more than 12 minutes of training in how to treat a customer so they'll come back"...It says, "My Mother taught me to be polite and to say 'Please and Thank you'"...I have taken to saying, "You're welcome" at the end of the transaction, and sometimes it jogs that long-forgotten manners lesson and encourages a belated thank you...Other times, it is met with
a. A grunt
b. "What?"
c. A blank stare