Basketball Girl got Marcus this parka so he’d be able to battle the snows all the way from the front door to the car (at least 30 feet). It makes no difference to either of them that we never get any snow here in Northern California. Here’s the polar explorer, gearing up for a morning snooze. But wait! Is that a knock on the door? Danger! Danger! It’s the UPS man — Marcus’ most hated enemy except for the postman.
Keeping the world safe from delivery men.
Whew, that was exhausting.
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I’ve been living dangerously the last couple of days. First, went out to lunch in a downpour and my car almost got caught in a flood in the the restaurant parking lot, but someone warned me just in the nick of time. I dashed out to my car and drove it away from the rising waters. Then, had a very large piece of chocolate cake at my friend Pat’s birthday party last night, but no heart attack yet (whew!) This morning I was returning home from dropping Basketball Girl at school. It’s still raining very hard here. I was sitting at a stoplight, minding my own business, when there was a sudden gust of wind, followed by a huge bang on my car roof. A big tree had just fallen on top of me! I took stock for a few seconds and decided that I seemed to be okay, so I just backed out from under the tree and drove away. Luckily for me, the part that actually hit my car was the leafy end of the branches.
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First to the dentist, where I had a tooth that has been painfully sensitive drilled on without anesthetic (no time to get me numb), then off to the toxic waste dump, where I dumped three broken computers and assorted household waste. All the computers personally broken by me, I might add. Followed by an exciting hour of winding Christmas lights on old pieces of cardboard so they don’t get tangled before next Christmas, eating bad Chinese food leftovers for lunch, and now I’m ready to meet the plumber to fix our tenant’s broken dishwasher! Coming up this evening, driving 12-year-olds to a basketball game and back.
Oh, the glamor of it all!
My life in a nutshell.
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Hey, who tore the stuffing out of my bed and scattered it all around the room? What? You say it was me? Really? Oh well. Guess I’ll lie down and take a nap, then.
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One of my prize possessions is the recipe box that contains this card. This is my great-grandmother’s cinnamon bread recipe, hand-written by my mother, who died more than ten years ago. I make the cinnamon bread every year at Christmas and Easter. There are other cards in the box in my grandmother’s handwriting, and lots of old recipes that came from who knows where.
I didn’t find my mother easy to get along with, but one place we were always at home together was in the kitchen.
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Holidays may come and holidays may go, but my husband’s drainage project goes on forever.
Here he is repairing a washout that happened when we had a big rainstorm. Stay tuned for more exciting scenes of trench digging, dump trucks, and dirt.
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No, these aren’t my in-laws:
They visit the lobby of my mother-in-law’s retirement community every holiday season.
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Ingredients:
1 or 2 quarts rum
1 cup butter
1 tsp. sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup dried fruit
½ tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. soda
Lemon juice
Brown sugar
Nuts
Preparation Instructions:
Before you start, sample the rum to check for quality. Good, isn’t it? Now proceed:
Select a large mixing bowl, measuring cup, etc. Check the rum again: it must be just right. To make doubly sure it’s the desired quality, pour one level cup into a glass and drink as fast as you can. Repeat. With an electric mixer, beat 1 cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add 1 teaspoon thugar and beat again. Meanwhile, try another cup of rum, opening second quart if necessary. Add 1 arge leggs, 2 cups fried druit and beat until high. If druit sticks in beaters, pry loose with a drewscriver. Sample rum, checking for tonscisticity. Next, sift 3 cups pepper, or maybe salt. It really doesn’t matter. Sample rum. Sift ½ pint lemon juice. Fold in chopped butter and strained nuts. Add 1 babblespoon of brown thugar, or whatever color comes to hand, and wix mell.
Cooking / Baking Instructions:
Grease coven and set pake can at 350 gredees ‘F. Pour whole mess into coven. Check rum again, then go to bed.
Posted in honor of my aunt Susan, who first shared this recipe with me, and who died of leukemia in November. She was a good cook and had a great sense of humor.
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One of my favorite cooking techniques is called the Refrigerator Survey. I open the refrigerator and stare inside until my eyes focus on something. Hey, what’s that in the back corner? Some Trader Joe’s pizza dough I had forgotten all about? And is that a bag of lonely apples in the fruit drawer? Throw in some butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon, and voila! Apple pizza. I just had a little difficulty getting the dough to roll out into a conventional shape.
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The Christmas tree:
The nativity scene:
The toys that sing those incredibly annoying Christmas songs in little voices that make you want to scream (”La la la, la la la, la la la la la. We are Santa’s Elves, stocking Santa’s shelves…”)
The hated school uniform, made more bearable by cool socks from grandmother:
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