Twas nine days before Christmas
And Cindy was itchin'
Making a terrible mess in the kitchen
Trying out recipes fancy and new
Like sweet tamales and gingerbread too
Thinking that gingerbread cats would be fun
And those sweet tamales made just for her Hon
Here is a lesson of which you should heed:
Never multi task cooking new things while you read
The pan for tamales got filled by mistake
With molasses meant for the gingerbread bake.
It took the whole jar, that was all I had got
So I scraped dilute molasses out of the pot
And continued the recipe hoping like hell
That the gingerbread cats would turn out well.
The gingerbread dough was suspiciously dry
So I put it aside with a tear in my eye.
The recipe printed to make the tamales
Skipped a few steps and they were not smallies!
This batter, too was much, much too crumbly
"What do I do now?" I then muttered dumbly
So I kept adding pineapple, along with its juice
But the batter never really got very loose.
I spread it into the corn husk as if in a dream
And put that pot on the stove to steam.
Then at that moment who should appear
But my mother in law at the door in the rear
She came to help with the baking and cooking
And she was a bit dubious -- I could tell by looking.
The gingerbread dough, so stiff and dry
Just wouldn't roll out -- I wanted to cry.
With a thought to melting the shortening a bit,
I thought that the microwave just might do it.
Success! The dough finally got soft
So we rolled it out, and then we were off.
Two dozen cookies we pressed into cats
And into the oven -- so that was that!!!
My thought was to decorate each little pet
And bring some for Christmas down to my vet,
I made royal icing to squeeze out for the faces
And cinnamon candy for a nose in their places.
When the cookies were cooled, I squeezed on the icing
Which blurred and ran and did not look enticing.
After several attempts, we decided we'd best
Taste these cat cookies and then frost the rest.
One bite of a gingerbread cat told the truth
They were so hard and dry that I could have cracked a tooth.
Into the garbage can every cat tumbled.
I was so downcast that I almost crumbled.
So much for cookies that I could be proud of
Made with molasses I now had run out of.
Meantime, tamales were steaming away.
I hoped I had something to show for the day
Spent in the kitchen with flour on my nose
Watching the steam from the pot as it rose.
I lifted tamales onto a plate
And thought about cookies I already ate
All of the work! All of the pain!
Those expensive ingredients right down the drain!
A big bowl of frosting that I could not use
A splotch of molasses on my shoes.
Just then Rodthecarguy came in for his lunch
And I gave him a sweet tamale to munch.
I ate one too and to my great dismay
They didn't taste nearly as good as they say.
Even with twice as much pineapple juice
They weren't very sweet and that is the truth.
My kitchen had turned to a raging disaster
And I had to clean up those messes thereafter.
Nothing to show for such toil in the casa
Gone the golden raisins, pineapple and masa.
I think I'll go back to the things that I know
Shortbread, and fudge, and chocolate chip dough.
At least then when the bowls are sticky and greasy
I'll know that the goodies they held came easy
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Let the Baking Begin
Last year I made Christmas goodies for everyone at work. There was cranberry/orange nut bread, fudge, pralines, peppermint bark, cranberry cream cheese bars, chocolate chip cookies, bus-shaped gingerbread cookies, and shortbread. Whew.
No more of that nonsense.
So why did I find myself yesterday making shortbread cookies after painstakingly writing the recipe on festive decorated pages on the computer with a new printmaker program that I am not yet familiar with? Because I told some of the women at Curves about my recipe. I got it in 1979 from Millicent Simpson Pickard, who was my administrative assistant when I worked for Sonoma County People for economic Opportunity, the local poverty program, and fondly called "Skippy-O" Millie was in her seventies when she worked for me, when I directed the Senior bus service (my first transportation job) known as "Provide-A-Ride". She was British and married to Bill Pickard, also British. She told me stories of how they had survived in Britain in WWII during the Blitz, and showed my her wedding picture -- quite the looker in her satin gown with the train winding around her feet. Millie did not drive, so Bill drove her to work and picked her up in their little yellow Ford Falcon. She brought the shortbread to work one Christmas and I begged for the recipe. She said it was a recipe used by her grandmother, who had a bakery in Scotland in the 1830's. So the recipe I got was an authentic Scottish shortbread recipe. In thanks, I bought Millie a ceramic shortbread mold. When she finally retired (she must have been near 80 then), I threw her a party with a male stripper and a cake that said "Ta Ta Luv". I miss Millie very much.
Here is the recipe:
1/2 lb butter, room temperature
4 tblesp. Superfine sugar
2 cups sifted flour (sieved, if you are British)
3 tblesp. rice flour
Method:
No more of that nonsense.
So why did I find myself yesterday making shortbread cookies after painstakingly writing the recipe on festive decorated pages on the computer with a new printmaker program that I am not yet familiar with? Because I told some of the women at Curves about my recipe. I got it in 1979 from Millicent Simpson Pickard, who was my administrative assistant when I worked for Sonoma County People for economic Opportunity, the local poverty program, and fondly called "Skippy-O" Millie was in her seventies when she worked for me, when I directed the Senior bus service (my first transportation job) known as "Provide-A-Ride". She was British and married to Bill Pickard, also British. She told me stories of how they had survived in Britain in WWII during the Blitz, and showed my her wedding picture -- quite the looker in her satin gown with the train winding around her feet. Millie did not drive, so Bill drove her to work and picked her up in their little yellow Ford Falcon. She brought the shortbread to work one Christmas and I begged for the recipe. She said it was a recipe used by her grandmother, who had a bakery in Scotland in the 1830's. So the recipe I got was an authentic Scottish shortbread recipe. In thanks, I bought Millie a ceramic shortbread mold. When she finally retired (she must have been near 80 then), I threw her a party with a male stripper and a cake that said "Ta Ta Luv". I miss Millie very much.
Here is the recipe:
1/2 lb butter, room temperature
4 tblesp. Superfine sugar
2 cups sifted flour (sieved, if you are British)
3 tblesp. rice flour
Method:
- Beat butter until pale and creamy
- Add flour and work into butter with hand until well blended
- Add sugar and rice flour, and combine well, still using hand
- Roll onto a lightly floured board to about 1/4" thick
- Cut into shapes with cookie cutter or pat into a small square pan and prick all over with a fork.
- Sprinkle with plain or coloured sugar
- Bake at 275 degrees 445 minute to 1 hour until slightly golden
- Store in a well-sealed container.
I made two batches, and only ate the broken ones because everybody knows that broken cookies have no calories!!!!!!!
Then I made million dollar fudge (a variation of the recipe on the back of the marshmallow fluff jar) and, because we were going up the hill to Ann and Ray's for dinner, a pineapple upside down cake to take for dessert. I was dusted with flour and tired, but felt happy about accomplishing things.
I do plan on more baking -- oatmeal cookies with white chocolate chips and dried cranberries, and lemon poppyseed bread. Likely I ill give everything away, too. Thank goodness for the dollar store, where i can get festive containers to pack everything up.
And I will be making tamales, too -- I cooked the pork roast yesterday. The Economy market on Imola has all of the other fixing I will need, including corn husks and lard. I already have the poblano chiles and the masa harina. After all, it's not Christmas in California without tamales!!!! I might even tackle those sweet tamales that Rod likes made with pineapple and rice.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The Care and Feeding of an old cat.
Once upon a time, Rodthecarguy worked at Upper Valley Disposal (back in 2003) and one day found a tortoise shell cat crying at the front door of the office. This cat was no kitten, and had obviously been someone's pet. The office staff and Rod made up flyers and put them around hoping to find the owners of this golden eyed elderly tortoiseshell girl kitty, to no avail. Finally, Rod volunteered to bring her home to (the) Coombsville Road (Cat Ranch). WE took her into our vet (the world's greatest vet, by the way) for a check up and he told us she was likely 14 years old or maybe older. WE figured that she had belonged to an old person in St. helena who had died and had kids (or grandkids) that did not want to deal with an elderly cat, so just dumped her at NVD. For about three years Annie (as we called her after Little Orphan Annie) lived in the mezzanine above Rodthecarguy's shop. When Jon and Tova came from Norway the second time and moved into an RV by the shop (a story in itself) they moved Annie in with them.until she became so weak she could not get into and out of the litterbox. When we took her to the vet expecting to be told she was dying of old age, he told us she was so flea infested that she had become anemic. Needless to say, the days of living in the (flea infested) RV with Jon and Tova came to an end. With treatment, she improved immensely. When it became apparent that she could no longer navigate the stairs in the shop, we brought her into the house where she lived in the corner of our living room for another two years or so. During the remodel of the house, a second story attic was added, and Annie moved into the attic. She has since moved into my office, with a heating pad in her bed.
Annie is now ancient. If she was 14 in 2003, she is 21 now. She has cataracts in both eyes, a grey muzzle, and terrible arthritis, causing her to walk with a stiff-legged swaying gait and has increased the howling episodes she has always treated us with exponentially. She no longer grooms herself, which means we must groom her. This involves using a wire brush to remove such prodigious amounts of fur we are always shocked that she is not bald at the end of the process. It also involves cutting her toenails, which will curl under themselves if we don't cut them, and dig into the pads of her paws.
A trip to the vet is an amazing ordeal. First brushing to get as many of the easiest mats out as possible, then a bath (Annie behaves quite well during her baths in the laundry room sink, except that sometimes she gets so wound up by all that warm water that she poops right in the sink), then a blow dry and more brushing. This is because we can't very well take her to the vet in her normal disheveled, derelict condition. Not only does she not groom herself, she eats very messily and tends to have food stuck in her whiskers kind of like a toddler just learning to use a spoon. But she DOES have a heart appetite and uses her litterbox (sometimes she forgets she is not done pooping before she gets out of the litterbox, though. The vet says she is amazingly healthy for such an old cat. I do feed her the pricey food and break a capsule of Cosaquin into it for her arthritis every morning. She has to take her meds just like I do!
In anticipation of a trip to the vet tomorrow to renew her pain meds prescription, the beauty treatment is now underway. One holds her up while the other attacks the mats on her tummy with a wire brush or the mat-busting steel comb. During this process which I was holding her today, she sunk her teeth into the pad of my left hand under my thumb big time. I think I howled as loud as she does. Blood was drawn, and Rod took over holding duties while I brushed. I now have two vampire-like puncture wounds in my hand, and we are giving Annie a break before her bath.
Such are the joys and tribulations of owning an ancient cat.
Annie is now ancient. If she was 14 in 2003, she is 21 now. She has cataracts in both eyes, a grey muzzle, and terrible arthritis, causing her to walk with a stiff-legged swaying gait and has increased the howling episodes she has always treated us with exponentially. She no longer grooms herself, which means we must groom her. This involves using a wire brush to remove such prodigious amounts of fur we are always shocked that she is not bald at the end of the process. It also involves cutting her toenails, which will curl under themselves if we don't cut them, and dig into the pads of her paws.
A trip to the vet is an amazing ordeal. First brushing to get as many of the easiest mats out as possible, then a bath (Annie behaves quite well during her baths in the laundry room sink, except that sometimes she gets so wound up by all that warm water that she poops right in the sink), then a blow dry and more brushing. This is because we can't very well take her to the vet in her normal disheveled, derelict condition. Not only does she not groom herself, she eats very messily and tends to have food stuck in her whiskers kind of like a toddler just learning to use a spoon. But she DOES have a heart appetite and uses her litterbox (sometimes she forgets she is not done pooping before she gets out of the litterbox, though. The vet says she is amazingly healthy for such an old cat. I do feed her the pricey food and break a capsule of Cosaquin into it for her arthritis every morning. She has to take her meds just like I do!
In anticipation of a trip to the vet tomorrow to renew her pain meds prescription, the beauty treatment is now underway. One holds her up while the other attacks the mats on her tummy with a wire brush or the mat-busting steel comb. During this process which I was holding her today, she sunk her teeth into the pad of my left hand under my thumb big time. I think I howled as loud as she does. Blood was drawn, and Rod took over holding duties while I brushed. I now have two vampire-like puncture wounds in my hand, and we are giving Annie a break before her bath.
Such are the joys and tribulations of owning an ancient cat.
Here is Annie on her (heated) cushion in my office
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Houisekeeping
Last night I began wrapping Christmas presents and as a result the living room and hall guest bedroom became strewn with crumpled tissue paper, sad looking crushed bows, twenty different sizes of gift bags, plastic bags, 12 rolls of half-used scotch tape, name tags that don't coordinate with any of the wrapping paper I am using, and the two markers and one pair of scissors that keep getting lost in the debris. When I got up from the floor last night at 11 pm, I was 95-year-old stiff and every joint was popping. So when I got upstairs to go to bedroom I found out why -- the 800mg of ibuprofen I take every morning to alleviate my arthritis was still in the little pill pocket container for "Monday" "breakfast". But I digress.
As a result of all of this exuberance last night, and the resulting explosion, I spent 45 minutes this morning cleaning the house before the arrival of the housekeeper. Yeah. Don't tell me I'm the only one who does this!!!!!!!! Not only picking up and trying to organize all of the Christmas debris (including the empty boxes from the decorations I had unpacked on Sunday), but also loading all of the dirty dishes and picking up the spoon on the counter that still had cat food on it. It used to be that I was at work when the housekeeper came, and all I had to do was remember to leave a check on the dryer in the mudroom, and come back at 6:00 to a house that sparkled so blindly I was reminded of those cartoons with the SPARKLING GOLDEN SUN RAYS. But no more. Now I am home when the housekeeper comes, unless I have arranged to be out (kinda hard to arrange since I never know precisely when she will be here). If I am still déshabillé', she starts downstairs so I can get dressed and yearn to be downstairs making a snack. If I am downstairs, then she starts upstairs, while I yearn to be at the computer upstairs. So she can't win either way.
I am blessed with what I think is the world's best housekeeper. This place is not so easy to clean -- two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, living/dining room, mudroom, upstairs office, kitchen, pantry and covered back porch. And lots of collections and stuff sitting around (I am trying to edit this massive amount of stuff, but it is challenging). But Maria is inevitably cheerful (if sometimes overly chatty about her latest round of health battles -- I swear she is worse than an old woman) and does a wonderful job, even changes the sheets. Sometimes in the summer, she will even cut roses from the garden and put them in a vase on my dining room table. But oh, the joys of a freshly scrubbed kitchen sink, waxed wood furniture, and properly fluffed cat hair-free pillows on the sofa! If only for a day before it starts to deteriorate again. I am a person who hates disorganization and clutter, which is why I break out into hives when I enter Rodthecarguy's office in the shop!!!! And why I have kept a housekeeper even though I am retired.
Maria is the daughter of Natalie and Manuel, who have since retired and moved to the Azores, where they have owned property for years. Natalie was my housekeeper before Maria, and Manuel used to do yard work for me before he dug up my asparagus bed and destroyed all of the asparagus that takes years to establish and produce edible asparagus.
So I guess today she will likely start downstairs, working around the pile of presents in front of the entertainment center (those are the ones I need to pack and ship to Amy, Aaron, and Sarah) because it is quarter to ten and I am still in my pjs and robe and have not even done my yoga yet (waiting for the drugs to kick in).
As a result of all of this exuberance last night, and the resulting explosion, I spent 45 minutes this morning cleaning the house before the arrival of the housekeeper. Yeah. Don't tell me I'm the only one who does this!!!!!!!! Not only picking up and trying to organize all of the Christmas debris (including the empty boxes from the decorations I had unpacked on Sunday), but also loading all of the dirty dishes and picking up the spoon on the counter that still had cat food on it. It used to be that I was at work when the housekeeper came, and all I had to do was remember to leave a check on the dryer in the mudroom, and come back at 6:00 to a house that sparkled so blindly I was reminded of those cartoons with the SPARKLING GOLDEN SUN RAYS. But no more. Now I am home when the housekeeper comes, unless I have arranged to be out (kinda hard to arrange since I never know precisely when she will be here). If I am still déshabillé', she starts downstairs so I can get dressed and yearn to be downstairs making a snack. If I am downstairs, then she starts upstairs, while I yearn to be at the computer upstairs. So she can't win either way.
I am blessed with what I think is the world's best housekeeper. This place is not so easy to clean -- two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, living/dining room, mudroom, upstairs office, kitchen, pantry and covered back porch. And lots of collections and stuff sitting around (I am trying to edit this massive amount of stuff, but it is challenging). But Maria is inevitably cheerful (if sometimes overly chatty about her latest round of health battles -- I swear she is worse than an old woman) and does a wonderful job, even changes the sheets. Sometimes in the summer, she will even cut roses from the garden and put them in a vase on my dining room table. But oh, the joys of a freshly scrubbed kitchen sink, waxed wood furniture, and properly fluffed cat hair-free pillows on the sofa! If only for a day before it starts to deteriorate again. I am a person who hates disorganization and clutter, which is why I break out into hives when I enter Rodthecarguy's office in the shop!!!! And why I have kept a housekeeper even though I am retired.
Maria is the daughter of Natalie and Manuel, who have since retired and moved to the Azores, where they have owned property for years. Natalie was my housekeeper before Maria, and Manuel used to do yard work for me before he dug up my asparagus bed and destroyed all of the asparagus that takes years to establish and produce edible asparagus.
So I guess today she will likely start downstairs, working around the pile of presents in front of the entertainment center (those are the ones I need to pack and ship to Amy, Aaron, and Sarah) because it is quarter to ten and I am still in my pjs and robe and have not even done my yoga yet (waiting for the drugs to kick in).
Monday, December 6, 2010
How Can I Have Less Time Now than When I worked?
It's almost 4 pm and this is the first time I have sat down all day. First to American Canyon for my Curves workout (M-W-F) then a stop on the way home for milk, and to drop off my two gifts for institutionalized seniors at Kaiser before I got home to finish decorating the tree and get rid of the explosion of tissue paper, discarded broken ornaments, wire ornament hangers, empty boxes and bins left from decorating before the appraiser came to do the appraisal for our refinance (more on that later). OF COURSE he had to come the day before the housekeeper comes (more on that later, too) so I was just rewinding the vacuum cleaner cord when he showed up. Then fixed lunch -- the last of the turkey into turkey salad, and the rst of the vegetable soup (for me) and the potato/cheese soup (for Rod). Pretty proud of the fact that I have not had to throw out ANY Thanksgiving leftovers -- they have all been eaten, except for a little dab of stuffing. Then putting the icicles, candy canes, and garlands on the tree and wrapping a couple of gifts that need to get into the mail.
Then finally reading the paper and finally coming upstairs to the computer.
So how in the hell did I actually survive when I commuted to Concord every day for the past eleven years? How did I ever accomplish anything? I do remember that I usually spent the entire weekend on laundry, yardwork, grocery shopping, and MAYBE cooking, and that I was always tired. And I sometimes took a nap on Sunday afternoon, and toward the end of my employment, almost EVERY Sunday afternoon. I am not tired any more,despite the fact that Bailey will not let me sleep past 7:30 even on weekends (he is up in my face purring and bumping his head against my hand to be petted. If that doesn't work, he swats my face with his paw. And I must admit I do more for myself these days -- working out for at least 45 minutes 5 days a week, cooking much more, having reams more patience all the way around. And I am SO not sweating the small stuff. Maybe some of this has to do with age, because when I was younger (way younger) I also did all kinds of crafty things -- from sewing to painting, to quilting and crocheting. Most of that has gone by the wayside, although I DID make sachets with the lavender I brought back from Provence and I DID make a valance and matching cupboard curtain my my mother in law just this past week. So as I write this -- I see the pattern. Jeez, I AM HARD ON MYSELF! Time to relax.
So about the appraiser and the refinance -- he walked through the house taking pictures and measuring the size of the rooms. When he asked about the age of the house I had to tell the whole story of how the house started out as a WWII Duplex in Benicia and was barged up the Napa River and hauled up the hill and plopped down here in 1963, then remade into a single family home. Then the garage and master suite over the garage added in 1988, and finally our kitchen red in 2004. It kinda hurt my feelings that he was not more impressed by my awesome kitchen, though. But when this is all done, we will have a new loan with payments about $100 per month cheaper AND TWO YEARS SHORTER!!!!! We may actually get this house paid off before we die! Imagine that.
So about the housekeeper. I have kept two indulgences that I started when I worked -- a weekly housekeeper and a twice monthly fingernail maintenance regime. I adore my housekeeper even though she is pricey, because she is so thorough, I have not scrubbed a toilet in YEARS (thank God). As for my nails, I got a set of acrylic nails for my wedding to Rodthecarguy in1993, and I have kept them up ever since. This is sheer heaven for a person who used to bite her nails to the quick. In the summer time, I even get pedicures once a month or so, and I would do that just for the chance to sit in one of those amazing massaging spa chairs. AAAHHHHHHH!!!!
Break time is almost over, and I do need to get back to wrapping presents and thinking about dinner. But just one more kinda interesting thing -- I heard on the radio this morning that currently one in five divorces cites Facebook as a contributing factor. Seems hooking up online with old flames turns into more than just reminiscing and some people actually believe in "the one that got away". I can definitely see the temptation to make more of these things than they deserve, especially if your marriage is rocky to begin with. And there is not a thing wrong with a good fantasy. But people who are grounded in good relationships don't need to worry. Still, it's something to think about -- cyber cheating!!!!! One more reason I don't do Facebook!!!!!!
Life is good. I feel calmer now.
Then finally reading the paper and finally coming upstairs to the computer.
So how in the hell did I actually survive when I commuted to Concord every day for the past eleven years? How did I ever accomplish anything? I do remember that I usually spent the entire weekend on laundry, yardwork, grocery shopping, and MAYBE cooking, and that I was always tired. And I sometimes took a nap on Sunday afternoon, and toward the end of my employment, almost EVERY Sunday afternoon. I am not tired any more,despite the fact that Bailey will not let me sleep past 7:30 even on weekends (he is up in my face purring and bumping his head against my hand to be petted. If that doesn't work, he swats my face with his paw. And I must admit I do more for myself these days -- working out for at least 45 minutes 5 days a week, cooking much more, having reams more patience all the way around. And I am SO not sweating the small stuff. Maybe some of this has to do with age, because when I was younger (way younger) I also did all kinds of crafty things -- from sewing to painting, to quilting and crocheting. Most of that has gone by the wayside, although I DID make sachets with the lavender I brought back from Provence and I DID make a valance and matching cupboard curtain my my mother in law just this past week. So as I write this -- I see the pattern. Jeez, I AM HARD ON MYSELF! Time to relax.
So about the appraiser and the refinance -- he walked through the house taking pictures and measuring the size of the rooms. When he asked about the age of the house I had to tell the whole story of how the house started out as a WWII Duplex in Benicia and was barged up the Napa River and hauled up the hill and plopped down here in 1963, then remade into a single family home. Then the garage and master suite over the garage added in 1988, and finally our kitchen red in 2004. It kinda hurt my feelings that he was not more impressed by my awesome kitchen, though. But when this is all done, we will have a new loan with payments about $100 per month cheaper AND TWO YEARS SHORTER!!!!! We may actually get this house paid off before we die! Imagine that.
So about the housekeeper. I have kept two indulgences that I started when I worked -- a weekly housekeeper and a twice monthly fingernail maintenance regime. I adore my housekeeper even though she is pricey, because she is so thorough, I have not scrubbed a toilet in YEARS (thank God). As for my nails, I got a set of acrylic nails for my wedding to Rodthecarguy in1993, and I have kept them up ever since. This is sheer heaven for a person who used to bite her nails to the quick. In the summer time, I even get pedicures once a month or so, and I would do that just for the chance to sit in one of those amazing massaging spa chairs. AAAHHHHHHH!!!!
Break time is almost over, and I do need to get back to wrapping presents and thinking about dinner. But just one more kinda interesting thing -- I heard on the radio this morning that currently one in five divorces cites Facebook as a contributing factor. Seems hooking up online with old flames turns into more than just reminiscing and some people actually believe in "the one that got away". I can definitely see the temptation to make more of these things than they deserve, especially if your marriage is rocky to begin with. And there is not a thing wrong with a good fantasy. But people who are grounded in good relationships don't need to worry. Still, it's something to think about -- cyber cheating!!!!! One more reason I don't do Facebook!!!!!!
Life is good. I feel calmer now.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Christmas Decorating with Cat Pee and plastic Snowflakes
Lately I have been reading autobiographies (George Carlin) and musings (Nora Ephron) and I started thinking to myself, well, certainly my life is as interesting and at the same time as ordinary as anyone else"s , so why not start a blog? It will be kinda like my online diary, but probably without some of the intimate details and teenage/feminist/hippie/wronged wife angst that filled the diaries and journals I have kept in the past.
So we'll see how long I can keep this up. Starting with Christmas Decorating and all that THAT entails.
It's a rainy, spitty Sunday and wet leaves are sticking to everything outdoors. What a day to be putting up a Christmas tree and the outdoor lights! We bought the tree yesterday (Whiskers, Tails & Ferals tree lot -- we never miss a chance to help out the homeless kitties) and set it up so we could see how the cats reacted this year. Easy peasy: Chloe peed on a towel I had under the tree to sop up the splashes from putting the water in the tree stand, then Daisy strolled in and peed on the tree. So before we could do ANYTHING to the tree, first we had to treat the peed on areas with Natures Miracle and off to the pet store to find some kind of cat repellent to spray on the tree (and God I hope we don't have to spray it on the gifts UNDER the tree).
The cat repellent smells awful, but the smell fades after a while (or maybe we just got used to it).
Then the outdoor lights -- the hanging stars we put under the eaves are probably 15 years old and they still work. We have special hooks in the eves just to hold those strings of star lights. Then we string little white lights along the railing using the trusty staple gun. Every year I find some new "bargain" to add, which usually turn out to be cheesy and cheap. One year, lighted snowflake path lights which turned out to have plastic stakes that broke when you tried to push them into the ground. This year it is a set of spiral trees (they are only about 14" tall) that were so cheesy that one of the spirals broke when I was trying to untangle it, and it missing one of the stars that is supposed to be on the top of the string of (five) trees. But I was pretty proud of myself for putting them together. That is usually not my forte. One thing I have noticed about retiring: Most of the time, I have WAY more patience than I used to (ok, except when I am on the road with idiots to the left of my, jokers to the right). Any way, outside lights on = CHECK.
In addition, we had to put up the Christmas Village. Now this is one thing can't add to in any significant way, because we have enough buildings to fill the top of the entertainment center (that still holds or non-flat screen, non-HD but perfectly good TV). But almost every building has some personal meaning, which I really like alot. There is the Bijou Theater that Jill gave me, to remind me of the theater in Ashland where we went to the movies on our bygone Shakespeare weekends, the City Hall to remind Rod and I of our way too many years in the employ of the City of Napa, the bus depot (one of my personal favorites) to remind me of my former profession as a transportation planner, administrator, and manager -- and I even have a little bus and a guy siting on a bench reading the paper waiting for the bus to go with it). There is also a 50's style diner to reflect the style of our kitchen, and finally Rod's New and Used Cars -- complete with a showroom window for my husband Rodthecarguy (yes I intended that to be all one word). There are a few other buildings -- an Inn, a Florist Shop, a Bakery and a Dressmaker, I have lots of little people and trees to spread around too and even an ice rink with skaters and a carousel. They went on AFTER the buildings all got arranged so that the ones with the shortest cords were closest to the outlet. We took pix to keep in the box (which Rod meticulously packs away each January) so that we know how to set it up in a flash from now on.
On top of the TV are the photos we had taken of Chessie and Bailey with Santa. TOO CUTE
At the left side you can see the bus in front of the diner, which is next to the bus station.
OK, this is what you do when your kids are all grown up and moved far away so that you hardly ever get to see your grandchildren.
So BACK to the decorating. I actually don't know why we bother since nobody comes over here except car guys heading directly for Rodthecarguy's shop, but there is just something about taking these things out once a year and the memories they evoke ........ this music box that I coveted but could not afford until it went on sale the day after Christmas back in the 80's, these stuffed pig and mushroom ornaments I made the first year in the house in Guerneville in 1971, the one Amy made with her photo in a Santa cap at the age of five, the ones Peter Tracy bought for me back in the 70's, the ones that were handmade gifts, the ones that Bill and I bought at a senior craft fair in Lake Tahoe that first vacation we took after Janelle's accident in 1982, the ones I bought half price at Herritt's (which no longer exists) at the after Christmas sales. Then there is the Reindeer bowl I bought at a junk store in Tacoma in 1981 for $10 that sits in the middle of the dining room table, and the "Race Car Santa" holding his helmet and standing next to a racing slick tire labelled "Reindeer Tracks".\, bought in honor of Rodthecarguy. Last year I bought one for me -- an old Hippie Santa with his love beads, headband, peace buttons, and tambourine. Finally, there is the old world Santa Lamp I bought in Sonoma, and the stacked snowmen candle lamp that was a gift from Sue Dahlgren on her last Christmas on earth. Even the reindeer candle ring that was a gift from my former boss has a special place in my heart.
So even though nobody might see this stuff except for Rod and me, I still love it and need it to feel that "Christmas Spirit". Now I can start wrapping presents!!!!!!
This is a picture of me in my (politically incorrect) silver fox coat and (still politically incorrect) black rabbit fur hat that I bought in Berlin from an ex Russian army officer next to the replica 1902 Cadillac surrey all decorated for the 2010 Napa Christmas Parade, which is held at night with all of the lighted floats and cars. This parade is held the Saturday after Thanksgiving every year. See the Metropolitan to my left? It's a '59 convertible and I totally covet that car!
First blog posting is now complete. Time to put on my slippers and watch "Desperate Housewives".
So we'll see how long I can keep this up. Starting with Christmas Decorating and all that THAT entails.
It's a rainy, spitty Sunday and wet leaves are sticking to everything outdoors. What a day to be putting up a Christmas tree and the outdoor lights! We bought the tree yesterday (Whiskers, Tails & Ferals tree lot -- we never miss a chance to help out the homeless kitties) and set it up so we could see how the cats reacted this year. Easy peasy: Chloe peed on a towel I had under the tree to sop up the splashes from putting the water in the tree stand, then Daisy strolled in and peed on the tree. So before we could do ANYTHING to the tree, first we had to treat the peed on areas with Natures Miracle and off to the pet store to find some kind of cat repellent to spray on the tree (and God I hope we don't have to spray it on the gifts UNDER the tree).
The cat repellent smells awful, but the smell fades after a while (or maybe we just got used to it).
Then the outdoor lights -- the hanging stars we put under the eaves are probably 15 years old and they still work. We have special hooks in the eves just to hold those strings of star lights. Then we string little white lights along the railing using the trusty staple gun. Every year I find some new "bargain" to add, which usually turn out to be cheesy and cheap. One year, lighted snowflake path lights which turned out to have plastic stakes that broke when you tried to push them into the ground. This year it is a set of spiral trees (they are only about 14" tall) that were so cheesy that one of the spirals broke when I was trying to untangle it, and it missing one of the stars that is supposed to be on the top of the string of (five) trees. But I was pretty proud of myself for putting them together. That is usually not my forte. One thing I have noticed about retiring: Most of the time, I have WAY more patience than I used to (ok, except when I am on the road with idiots to the left of my, jokers to the right). Any way, outside lights on = CHECK.
In addition, we had to put up the Christmas Village. Now this is one thing can't add to in any significant way, because we have enough buildings to fill the top of the entertainment center (that still holds or non-flat screen, non-HD but perfectly good TV). But almost every building has some personal meaning, which I really like alot. There is the Bijou Theater that Jill gave me, to remind me of the theater in Ashland where we went to the movies on our bygone Shakespeare weekends, the City Hall to remind Rod and I of our way too many years in the employ of the City of Napa, the bus depot (one of my personal favorites) to remind me of my former profession as a transportation planner, administrator, and manager -- and I even have a little bus and a guy siting on a bench reading the paper waiting for the bus to go with it). There is also a 50's style diner to reflect the style of our kitchen, and finally Rod's New and Used Cars -- complete with a showroom window for my husband Rodthecarguy (yes I intended that to be all one word). There are a few other buildings -- an Inn, a Florist Shop, a Bakery and a Dressmaker, I have lots of little people and trees to spread around too and even an ice rink with skaters and a carousel. They went on AFTER the buildings all got arranged so that the ones with the shortest cords were closest to the outlet. We took pix to keep in the box (which Rod meticulously packs away each January) so that we know how to set it up in a flash from now on.
On top of the TV are the photos we had taken of Chessie and Bailey with Santa. TOO CUTE
At the left side you can see the bus in front of the diner, which is next to the bus station.
So BACK to the decorating. I actually don't know why we bother since nobody comes over here except car guys heading directly for Rodthecarguy's shop, but there is just something about taking these things out once a year and the memories they evoke ........ this music box that I coveted but could not afford until it went on sale the day after Christmas back in the 80's, these stuffed pig and mushroom ornaments I made the first year in the house in Guerneville in 1971, the one Amy made with her photo in a Santa cap at the age of five, the ones Peter Tracy bought for me back in the 70's, the ones that were handmade gifts, the ones that Bill and I bought at a senior craft fair in Lake Tahoe that first vacation we took after Janelle's accident in 1982, the ones I bought half price at Herritt's (which no longer exists) at the after Christmas sales. Then there is the Reindeer bowl I bought at a junk store in Tacoma in 1981 for $10 that sits in the middle of the dining room table, and the "Race Car Santa" holding his helmet and standing next to a racing slick tire labelled "Reindeer Tracks".\, bought in honor of Rodthecarguy. Last year I bought one for me -- an old Hippie Santa with his love beads, headband, peace buttons, and tambourine. Finally, there is the old world Santa Lamp I bought in Sonoma, and the stacked snowmen candle lamp that was a gift from Sue Dahlgren on her last Christmas on earth. Even the reindeer candle ring that was a gift from my former boss has a special place in my heart.
So even though nobody might see this stuff except for Rod and me, I still love it and need it to feel that "Christmas Spirit". Now I can start wrapping presents!!!!!!This is a picture of me in my (politically incorrect) silver fox coat and (still politically incorrect) black rabbit fur hat that I bought in Berlin from an ex Russian army officer next to the replica 1902 Cadillac surrey all decorated for the 2010 Napa Christmas Parade, which is held at night with all of the lighted floats and cars. This parade is held the Saturday after Thanksgiving every year. See the Metropolitan to my left? It's a '59 convertible and I totally covet that car!
First blog posting is now complete. Time to put on my slippers and watch "Desperate Housewives".
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