The Glitter and Sparkle of the Season

Last night I was happily cleaning up after dinner when melancholy and mournful celtic music began playing on the radio.  It made me get all misty-eyed, nostalgic, and appreciative.  The moaning of the music made me think about how grateful I am that I'm not a cow living out on the range suffering through all kinds of weather.  Every time we are driving down the highway through blowing snow, or blowing dirt or just plain blowing air, and I see cattle out on the range all huddled together with their butts to the wind in a vain attempt to keep warm, I feel bad for them.  I sigh deeply and think to myself I'm glad I'm not a cow.  I'm so happy I have a hat and mittens and a leather coat and a warm house.  Of course when it's a beautiful summer day, the thought of spending my day out on the range with nothing to do but eat and nap in the sun sounds more appealing than sitting at a computer working for nerds.  But on the whole, I think I am still thankful to be a human.

I also thought about how grateful I am to have a husband who knows when it's time to muster the troops (daughters) and ask for help for their mother who is freaking out about all the things she thinks she has to do to get ready for Christmas.   He can survive a cranky wife for a while and he can sometimes endure a stressed-out wife for a short time but he does not tolerate a cranky and stressed-out wife for very long.  I like to used to think I am the mother who can do it all.   As it turns out, this is the year I can't make Christmas perfect all by myself for a variety of reasons which I won't bore you with (pssssst.....travelling, dissertation defense, pride, PhD, joy, PhD, celebrating, travelling, graduation, PhD, party, PhD, more celebrating).   At least I can't do it all without driving my husband, daughters, and everyone remotely close to me crazy with my perfect Christmas obsession.

Listening to that dang celtic music made me remember past Christmases and the next thing you know I was wondering how it happened that yesterday my girls were leaving cookies and letters for Santa and today it is my grandchildren writing the letters.  Then I got a bit sad thinking that next year Abby and Jorge will be living in Ecuador and we will still be here celebrating Christmases without them, because nobody in their right mind would choose to leave a beach in Ecuador to celebrate Christmas in sub-zero temperatures and howling winds.  Hey..........I just realized I could leave sub-zero temperatures and howling winds to celebrate a future Christmas at a beach in Ecuador!  So anyway, this is not the year to forgo any traditions just because I'm too busy doing things like working for nerds or losing countless minutes walking around in circles mumbling to myself.  This is the year it must all come together and be perfect because it might be a long time til we're all gathered together again around the Christmas tree as the gentle Wyoming wind rocks the house, the white snow drifts and our street becomes an ice rink for cars.

It's a hard thing to admit I can't single-handedly create the perfect Christmas like I did back before I became old and forgetful and slow.  I thought I could do it all...I was trying to do it all...but I couldn't get it all done.  Not perfectly anyway.  Oh, and stress-free.  Perfect and stress-free.  It was the stress-free part I was having the most difficulty with when Dean stepped in.  Thanks to him my Christmas preparation list has been divied up among the troops.  One of the things I gave up is gift wrapping.  I hope nobody is disappointed when, instead of packages that look like they were wrapped by a one-armed person suffering from palsy, they receive gifts in creatively sculpted and painted paper mache boxes.  (Thanks for adding to my already behemothic guilt, Dean).

So once again life is sparkly

And filled with glitter.

It won't matter if every cookie isn't perfect or if there aren't going to be enough ornaments for the tree because I got a bit carried away this year.

It won't matter if my second try at the candy cane bread isn't as perfect as the picture in the newspaper.

And it won't matter if I don't get my Christmas cards mailed out until April (it won't be the first time).  Here's what I think.  I think it's going to be a perfect Christmas anyway.  It's going to be perfect because we are all going to be together.................................. and I'm not a cow out on the range in the blowing snow with my butt pointed to the wind.

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The Glitter and Sparkle of the Season

Tennis Balls Aren't Green

A couple of weeks ago I noticed my box of dryer sheets was running low and since we now have those new energy efficient appliances I thought maybe instead of buying another box of dryer sheets and filling my garbage can, and ultimately the landfill, I should make an attempt to be more green.  So one day last week while I was stimulating the economy at WalMart, I purchased the Dryer Bar.  It lasts about four MONTHS!  Just stick it and forget it!  How perfect.  I could do my part to lessen the landfill AND keep my clothes not only static-free but smelling fresh.  And not only that, I would have one less thing to think about and I'm all for that because at this point in my life each new thing that must be remembered requires me to forget some other less important thing.

I dutifully used the last three dryer sheets and finally was able to use this nifty product on Sunday.  It worked like a charm.  My clothes came out static-free, smelling outdoor fresh.  The best thing was that I didn't have to worry about forgetting and throwing a dryer sheet into the garbage in my bathroom where invariably Shadow would pull it out, gum it and then leave it lying somewhere around the house.  I don't know what it is that attracts her to dryer sheets.  Maybe it's her doggy way of trying to soften her fur.  Or maybe she's got some kind of doggy disease, like those people who like to eat dirt, but whatever the reason, she loves them.  And I know it's not my cat because if it was Lily she would leave the garbage can tipped over.  She's nimble but she prefers crawling into a small garbage can, tipping it over and just lying there. (so there, Dean).   Shadow sneakily delicately pulls the sheet out before gnawing on it.

Since the temperatures dipped to single and minus single digits over the weekend, I figured I'd better switch out the two blankets and summer bedspread on our bed for the comforter before Dean started whining (more).  As it was, he'd been adding increasing numbers of blankets, bathrobes, and whatever article of clothing he found nearby onto his side of the bed until our bed had begun listing to the west.  So our bed is now winter-ready but since Shadow likes to use the sides of the bed to scratch her snout, rub her body up and down, scratch her snout again, more rubbing, (you get the picture), the summer bedspread had a nice layer of greasy brown mixed with black fur.  It needed to be washed.

Never fear.  I have the new Dryer Bar.  I can wash that bedspread, throw it in the dryer and forget it!  No muss, no fuss.  That's what I did last night.  I should mention that my mom taught me that bedspreads are never to be used as blankets.  They are decorative.  I use this bedspread in the summer but it's made of pretty heavy fabric.  It weighs alot.  Actually Dean probably would have been more toasty pulling it up over his cold body than all the articles of clothing he's been using.  If I would have let him.  But I didn't.  I tell you this because last night was the first time I washed it in my new high efficiency washer using the extended spin option.   Apparently extended spin option isn't a good choice with a heavy bedspread.  There was a moment when it sounded like somebody had picked up the washing machine and was throwing it against the dryer..... boom!. boom!... boom!... boom!... boom!  I ran downstairs only to see the washing machine walking into the dryer over and over and over. 

A quick switch to regular spin, the washing machine quit walking and then it was time to put my heavy bedspread into my new high efficiency dryer with my new green(ish), Forget It! Dryer Bar.  So far so good.   For whatever reason, I thought I should add a tennis ball.  I'm not sure why.  Tennis balls are great for fluffing pillows but apparently not for bedspreads.  Don't ask me why I thought I needed a tennis ball to fluff my bedspread.  I don't know.   It just seemed like a good idea at the time.  It's not.  Not if you're using the Forget It! Dryer Bar. 

When you come back to take out your heavy bedspread you will find that the tennis ball has beat your Forget it! Dryer Bar to hell and you have pea-sized bits of Forget it! Dryer Bar all over the inside of your dryer and lint thingy and in places you can't even reach to pull out. 

And after you've cursed and moaned softly to yourself, when you try to pry off the base that you have stuck on the inside of your dryer you will discover that the gluey stuff holding the base is there for life.  (please loosen it peanut butter). 

It's back to dryer sheets for me.  Forget green.  Shadow's snout's been looking dry and I didn't like the smell of the Forget It! Dryer Bar anyway.◦

Tennis Balls Aren't Green

An Update to My Whine

We drove to the symphony on snow-covered streets with temps hovering around five degrees and I stared out the window fuming about that cranberry/raisin/pecan/candy cane bread rising silently in the garbage.  The last thing I wanted was to stand at a door taking tickets from happy people who probably had freezers filled with perfectly baked Christmas cookies and breads.   But it's hard to stay mad when you have to say hello, how are you? thank you! enjoy the concert, I'm glad you braved the cold ... to dozens of nicely dressed, very polite people who are happy and excited to be attending a Christmas concert.  And after listening to a symphony filled with toe-tapping, head-bobbing Christmas music led by a happy, funny, down-to-earth conductor, the whines were knocked right out of me.  When we got home from the concert I marched into the kitchen determined that two days of total baking failure was not going to get the best of me.  There is a new bowl of bread dough mixed and in the fridge.  Tomorrow I will conquer that candy cane bread or I will die trying.  And you know what else?  I have more Christmas cookie recipes waiting.  And I will bake them and they will be perfect.......or at least edible.◦

An Update to My Whine

Don't Read This Cuz I'm Gunna Whine

Tis the season to be baking cookies and breads and fancy desserts.  Tis the season to fatten yourself and loved ones.  But for me, apparently tis the season to screw up everything I bake.  Yesterday it was the yellow cake intended for the raspberry trifle which has become a tradition at our house.  I have never been able to find a great yellow cake recipe, or even a yellow cake recipe that's pretty good.  So each year I  try a new recipe in my quest for the perfect trifle cake.  Yesterday I mixed up another yellow cake, poured it into two round baking pans, stuck it in the oven and hoped this would be the one.  About halfway through the baking process I peeked into the oven window only to see cake batter bubbling out over the top of the pans.......onto the bottom of the oven I had cleaned only three short days ago.  I let it finish baking hoping the issue was just that I should have used bigger pans but when we tried the bits leftover after prying it out of the pans there was no doubt that the cake was inedible.  Dean helpfully pointed out to me (several times) that 3 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder seemed way too much for a cake..........he would never have used that much baking powder even if that was what the recipe called for.   Of course what my brain heard was You stupid idiot.  How could you not know that 3 1/2 teaspoons for one cake was a ridiculous amount and your cake would blow up in the oven?

Today, I attempted yeast bread twisted into cranberry/raisin/pecan filled candy canes.  The dough I had mixed up yesterday looked good, the filling looked good, everything seemed to be going good until I cut the strips of bread and twisted them into candy canes.  Something just didn't seem right.  If these canes still had to double in size before being baked they were going to look like they were meant for the jolly green giant.  However, I soldiered on, got them all cut, twisted and on the pans ready to bake and then did a quick review of the recipe.  Oops.  I was supposed to cut the dough in half and instead of 15 canes of gigantic proportions I should have had 30 normal people size bread canes.    So, rather than suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous teasing if I presented these for Christmas breakfast, I heaved them disgustedly in the trash where they are now rising and will soon be snaking out the sides and tops of the garbage drawer.

I would like to tell myself that I've screwed up royally this weekend because my laryngitis evolved into some kind of upper respiratory/bronchial illness.  That I have been tired because I spent several nights sleeping on the couch in order to save Dean listening to my 2-3 hour coughing fits.  I would like to say it's because I am still tired and recovering.  Or I'd like to think it was because I was rushing to get the cake done before Leslie and the grandkids came over for a day of fun.  Or I misread the bread recipe because I was rushing to complete it before we had to go usher at the symphony.  And in between I was running up and down the stairs switching laundry and ironing sheets.  Yes, ironing sheets.  The high-end sheets we bought a couple of years ago because they would be so great  were so stiff and came out of the dryer so wrinkled that I hated them.  The sheets that shrunk the first time I washed and dried them so that I have to sit on the floor, grab each corner of the bottom sheet and pull with all my might to get them over the 67-inch high mattress we have.  The sheets that Dean said recently were finally getting softer.  Yeah, buddy.  That's because I couldn't stand it anymore and started ironing them.

And the whole point of this whining, complaining, grumbling, pitiful post is this:  I quit. Maybe I'm past my baking prime.  Maybe it's time to pass the baton.  Maybe I'm too stupid to read a recipe.  I'm done baking. Who needs homemade Christmas sweets anyway?

So now I'm going to go usher at the symphony and spread some of my Christmas cheer.  How appropriate that we dress in black.

And I'm not even going to proofread this because nobody is reading it.◦

Don't Read This Cuz I'm Gunna Whine