Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Twas The Verse of the Tasteless






It was days before Christmas, the tree was upright.

But the branches were empty, no help was in sight.

Let’s hope no one sees the faux pas with the lights

Cuz there’s no way that string's gettin' fixed so it’s right.













Hey, Myra! Hey Piercie! and Emerson too.

Come over and help us; we need all of you.

Wait Maisie!  No Sophie!  Get away!  Shoo!

Yes, Shadow, we know you don’t think cats are cool.








Hanging those ornaments wasn’t a chore.

Only one (maybe two) crashed to glitter the floor.

But it didn’t matter, we had plenty more.

And the cats needed something to chase; they were bored.







At last the tree sparkled with beauty, oh, boy!

The kitties were happy ― they had a new toy.

When we were done we had treats we enjoyed.

'Specially the three pint-sized good girls and boys.



MERRY CHRISTMAS!  (Dean!  Get your han      Cheese!)



I know this is tacky and I’ll take some heat

But the clock is a tickin’, with deadlines to meet.

I had to write fast so my rhyme’s not so neat.

Still ― Merry Christmas to all! You can now hit delete.


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Saturday, December 10, 2011

Said the tortoise to the hare, “I might be slow but I’m faster than you.”

One day in the not so distant past:

“Where is the chocolate syrup?”
“I threw it away.”
“Wha?  (confused look, wrinkled brow, long pause) Why?”
“So I wouldn’t eat it.”
“Seriously?  How will I make cocoa for the kids?”
“The old fashioned way.”
“They don’t like the old fashioned way.  They like the ‘squirt chocolate in warm milk’ kind of way.”

Blank look

 “It’s hard enough trying to remember where I’ve hidden the chocolate chips.  Now I have to find a place for the chocolate syrup too?  I’m going to buy a plastic tub and fill it with bottles of chocolate syrup and packages of chocolate chips.  And I’m going to keep it in my sewing room.  Where you can’t find it.”

Shoulder shrug


One day in the recent past as children stood patiently waiting:

“Where are the ice cream bars?”
“I ate them.”
“ALL of them?”
“Yes.  You said it was hard for the kids to eat them because the chocolate fell off whenever they took a bite.   So I got rid of them for you.”
“But they LIKED them.  They didn’t care if the chocolate fell off.”

Shoulder shrug.


Yesterday morning: 

“Where are the marshmallows?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.  So they’re just in the cupboard somewhere and I need to find them, right?  You didn’t throw them away did you?”

Shoulder shrug.

            Headshaking and mumbling.  “How ... supposed ... cornflake wreathes ... marshmallows ... a bin!"


Later that same day:  

No, they're not here.  That was a red herring.  I just hope I remember where I've hidden the tub when I need it...








 




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Sunday, December 4, 2011

Hey, Hey, Hey! Who Wants To Play?

Because this is the season for giving and for sharing, I want to give you something.   I want to give you the opportunity to share in my experience of packing on the pounds.  I know the big push now is for everybody to be healthy and fit.  We’re told to regularly exercise more than just the part of our bodies we use to text, push remote controls or type at a keyboard.  We’re told to eat lots of green weeds (I said eat, not smoke) and we’re told to drink a lot (I assume they mean water).  I’ve pretty much decided that if I feel guilty eating, drinking or doing something, it’s probably not healthy and I shouldn’t be eating, drinking, or doing it.

But this is the season of giving and sharing … FOOD!  It should not be the season of food guilt.  I have enough to feel guilty about without feeling guilty that Dean’s going to find out I quickly ate a piece of pumpkin pie while he was brushing his teeth after breakfast.  It’s stressful too because it’s so hard to scoop out a half gallon of whipped cream without him hearing the clinking sound the spoon makes against the bowl.

So I say we all dig our heels in.  We rise up.  We make a stand.  Let’s join the protestors from around the world.  But instead of occupying London, or Wall Street, or Edinburgh or wherever, let’s allow food to occupy our bellies.  Yeah, man.  Let’s do it.  I say this from Thanksgiving through New Year’s we all fill our bellies.  Fill ‘em full.  Fill ‘em with fudge and toffee and cookies and trifle and wine and eggnog.  And let’s do it without hanging our heads in shame.  Let’s do it without guilt.  Who’s with me?  Shout it out!   Occupy the Belly!

My membership in Occupy the Belly! has already paid off.  When I was standing in the tree lot this morning, big fluffy flakes of snow falling all around me, my added layer of adipose tissue helped keep me warm as I watched Dean hoist this year’s Christmas tree up onto his shoulder and carry it over to the Subaru.  And I’m pretty sure, when he had to take off his gloves to tie it onto the roof, his fingers were a lot warmer than they would have been if he hadn’t also joined the movement.

In order to help with your transition into Occupy the Belly!, I would like to give you a recipe.  Don’t let the word “cranberry” scare you.  They don’t count as healthy when they’re in combination with fat and sugar.  And with the addition of the cream cheese frosting there is no doubt this sweet roll recipe meets the standards of an Occupy the Belly! food item.

I don’t normally frost my cinnamon rolls because, well, I feel even more guilty eating one if it’s slathered in frosting.   So, when I was compelled to eat one of these rolls (I had to be sure I wanted to serve them Christmas morning, after all), out of habit, I ate it without frosting.  However, I think the frosting will be complementary to the tartness of the cranberries so I recommend serving them frosted.  Also, the recipe doesn’t call for nuts, but I am genetically programmed to add nuts, cinnamon and raisins to pretty much everything I bake.  I added sliced almonds to these rolls but I think pecans or walnuts would be a better choice if you want to add nuts.  Don’t ask how I managed to refrain from adding raisins.  I’m still trying to figure it out myself.





Without further ado, women pull out those fat pants, and men feel free to unbutton your pants (but please, for the sake of all of us and our appetites, wear a long, long shirt).  Are you ready?  Let’s Occupy the Belly! and bake!






Cranberry Sweet Rolls*

¾ cup sugar
½ cup water
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1 teaspoon grated orange peel

Dough:
2 packages (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast
½ cup warm water (110 to 115 degrees)
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons butter, softened, divided
½ cup milk
2 eggs
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
4 ½ to 5 cups all-purpose flour

Cream Cheese Frosting:
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
½ of a 3-ounce package cream cheese, softened
¼ cup butter, softened
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
½ teaspoon milk

In a saucepan, bring sugar and water to a boil.  Add cranberries; return to a boil.  Boil, uncovered, for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Remove from the heat.  Stir in orange peel; cover and refrigerate.

In a large mixing bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water.  Add ½ cup butter, milk, eggs, sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and 3 cups flour; beat until smooth.  Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough.

Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6 to 8 minutes.  Place in a greased bowl; turning once to grease top.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

Punch dough down.  Turn onto a lightly floured surface; roll into a 20 by 10-inch rectangle.  Melt the remaining butter; brush over dough.  Spread with cranberry filling to within 1 inch of edges.  Roll up jelly-roll style, starting with a long side; pinch seam to seal.  Cut into 15 slices.  Place cut side down in a greased 13 by 9-inch baking pan.  Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.

Bake at 375 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes.  Cool for 5 minutes before removing from pan to a wire rack.  In a small mixing bowl, combine frosting ingredients; beat until smooth.  Spread over warm rolls.  Store in the refrigerator.

*Taste of Home’s Baking Book via our newspaper

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Friday, December 2, 2011

It's Not Easy Being Green


I sometimes wonder if I’ve become a dork.  Don’t get me wrong.  Dorks are good people, but when I was a little girl and dreamed about what I was going to be when I grew up, I wasn’t hoping I’d be a dork.  I don’t mean to sound arrogant.  I embrace dorks.  I just don’t really want to be one.  However, I’m starting to worry I may be developing dorkish tendencies.  It’s nothing I can quantify, but sometimes, when I’m talking with people, they seem to be smiling more with sympathy than enjoyment.  And every now and then, I think I even see a slight eye roll.   That’s when I get the feeling that whatever I have just done or said might have been dorky.  

Since I’ve been getting these feelings more frequently, I’ve started wondering what  exactly constitutes dorky?  I know there are some indisputable dorkisms (is that a word?) like wearing socks with your Tevas or Chacos.  (Pleeeze.  I would NEVER do that even though I live with know somebody who does.)  But, as with many parts of life, even dorkism has a grey area.  What about Birkenstocks? When I wear wool socks with my Birkenstocks, am I being dorky?

Does adding a short story small note to my on-line purchase order explaining the heartwarming reason for my purchase constitute a dorkism?   

Is it more dorky, less dorky, or just a Hallmark moment if I find myself blinking back tears as I tell a real live store clerk that …

I’m buying the fancy dress shoes with the sparkling ruby-like jewel on the top because once when we were kids, my sister asked for a Cinderella doll for Christmas.  The doll she wanted was dressed in a beautiful velvet gown, with long white gloves and delicate see-through shoes with a “real” ruby on the top of each one.  But our parents had no money for expensive gifts so Mom knit my sister a pair of slippers out of white yarn (because they didn’t make see-through yarn) and she tied a red pompom on the top and told my sister they were her special Cinderella slippers.  My sister, of course was happy to have them because the slippers helped to keep her feet warm as we slept huddled together under a tattered and thin quilt.  But I would hear her quietly crying to herself at night, wishing for that Cinderella doll with the fancy see-through shoes with the “real” ruby on top.  Every Christmas I think of my sister and our mom and the knitted slippers with the red pompom she got instead of the Cinderella doll, so when I saw these fancy dress shoes with the ruby-like jewel on top I just had to buy them for her because it reminded me of that Christmas when we were kids and …

 No, of course I wasn’t telling that story to the store clerk because I wasn’t buying the shoes with the ruby-like jewel on top.   I just made that up.  I can’t tell you what I was buying because it’s Christmas and it’s a surprise.  Spilling the beans would be dorky!

 

What about when I cut out paper heads, glued them to cardboard, taped a popsicle stick on the back and then took “the heads” to Edinburgh because life intervened and “the heads” couldn’t come to the wedding of their son?  I didn’t think that was dorky, although I did worry the bride and groom might think it was a wee bit inappropriate.   


But maybe I got too excited about “the heads” and showing them the sights.  When Dean’s eyes were rolling and the girls were looking skyward, walking away from me and my “heads”, was that a signal that I’d crossed the line from thoughtful to dorky?  Or was it when I had so much fun taking the pictures of “the heads” that I couldn’t understand why Dean and the girls were a little embarrassed just because strangers were staring and whispering to each other as we photographed “the heads.”  Did that mean I was ... a dork?


I’m positive that writing thank you notes isn’t dorky, but if I write a thank-you note for a thank-you letter, is that dorky?  I need to know because I received a very undorky thank-you letter recently from one of “the heads” and it was so nice, and made me feel so good that I want to write a thank-you note for the thank-you letter.   But I can’t write a nice thank-you note for the thank-you letter on plain old white paper.  I really need to go buy some special thank-you for the thank-you letter stationery.  And I’m pretty sure, as the clerk is taking my money and bagging my very special thank-you for the thank-you letter stationery, I will tell her the whole story …

I am buying this very special paper because I need to write a thank-you note to one of “the heads” who wrote me a thank-you letter which was kind and used words like touched and thoughtful and wonderful.  The thank-you letter that I received from "the head" was just so heartwarming that, as I was reading it, I thought, “I’m not a dork at all!”  It made me feel excuse me, I’m sorry … I know you’re busy and I’m holding up the line …  I just need to find a tissue so undorky that I need to buy this stationery so I can write a thank-you for the thank-you letter note to “the head”.

That wouldn’t be dorky … would it?   

Really?  … oh, man. 

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