Bruccceeeeeee............

T’was the night after Thanksgiving and all through the house was heard, I’m not cooking tonight, and I’ve had quite enough bird! That’s right, after spending much of the past 24 hours cooking, serving, and decorating, I was done.  My dearly beloved was up for heating some leftovers, but I think one glance at me, and knowing what was good for him, he said, “Why don’t we go out for a quick bite, dear?” 

I believe I have mentioned that my oldest just left for college in the fall.   He was home for Thanksgiving. I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder, and the brains grow dimmer.  I actually thought he would want to spend time with us.  I found out my husband and I were being treated no better than a pair of timeshare sales people. He had to attend the mandatory Thanksgiving meal with various family members; but if he decided not to join us other evenings, there would be no strings attached and he would still be eligible for the three free nights at our fabulous establishment.

It is Friday night, and we ask if he would like to join us for a quick meal in our lovely downtown. “Oh no” he replied.  “I am going over to my friend’s house and we are hanging out.” “A few other people are going as well, and I will probably sleep over.” I reply “It will only take an hour or so, we are just going for pizza”, hoping the guilt trip works, but no, he is impervious.

This is where I believe God took mercy on me.  He gave me the ultimate I told you so.  While I was sitting at this local restaurant, with my husband and the one son who took pity on us, who should walk in? BRUCE…….yes that is right, the one, the only, the Mr. Bruce Springsteen! The same man whom my oldest son adores. The man who’s music is all over his I-Pod.  I spotted him as he walked past, heading in for his own slice of post turkey pizza. Word came down, that the room he was dining in, needed more cutlery, the bus boys, waiters, and myself, were rock, paper, scissoring , over who could do the job.  I was disqualified, because I don’t actually work there.

Besides being thrilled to see one of our musical icons, a local guy to boot, the real joy of the evening came when we arrived home.  “Oh, by the way, we ran into Bruce Springsteen tonight.” “Too bad you weren’t there!”

Life sometimes sends you a sugar plum!

Thanksgiving, Its Not Just for Turkeys

I am hosting Thanksgiving this year.  In attendance will be sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, children, husband, but no turkey. I have made and served countless birds over the years. I have brined, and marinated.  I have slow roasted, baked, injected, and sautéed them. Some have suggested deep frying, but after watching many u-tube clips of homes being burned down in the wake of a mis-used turkey fryer, I know that is not for me.  I am capable of starting my own kitchen fires without adding a turkey fryer to the mix, thank you very much.  This year I am granting a stay of execution to some lucky gobbler.  You’re welcome Tom! “Why?” you may ask.  After extensive polling of the guests, I have discovered that no one is fond of turkey. I come from and married into a long line of carnivores.  My siblings have done the same.  Given their druthers, everyone prefers beef. Oh I still serve traditional sides like sweet potato and green bean casserole, but they can be ignored with beef just as well. 

I went to my local Sam’s Club to procure my foods for the upcoming feast, and noticed something odd.  Everyone’s cart was loaded to the top, with liquor! We all know Turkey can be dry, but give me a break people! I chatted with a few shoppers and it appears everyone who is hosting, is also laying in an ample supply of wines, beer, and assorted martini supplies.  Many of them planned to wet the old whistle the evening before the festivities even kicked off. These Thanksgiving veterans told me it is the only way to get through the day! What with in-laws and outlaws, multigenerational family members, and football blaring in the back ground, they felt consumption of alcohol was a no-brainer. I can’t vouch for their families, but adding that kind of fuel to our Family get together, is sure to set off more fireworks then the Fourth of July! We have the abstainers, who will look at the imbibers and roll their eyes.  We have the imbibers, who will tell the abstainers to “lighten” up. Then the college kids, who are looking for plastic cups to set up an impromptu pong tournament.  Someone will nod off on the couch while watching the football games, then break into window rattling snores. Oh the fond memories we create!

 My personal favorite thing at Thanksgiving is dessert!  This year the menu includes pineapple upside down cake, apple pie, blueberry pie, chocolate cake, and cheesecake.  I am hoping it will be enough! If I knew where to get a pumpple cake, everything would be complete.  For those of you who do not follow the latest trends in dessert, I will describe for you this awesome creation.  It is a two layer cake, one chocolate, one vanilla; a pumpkin pie is baked in one layer, and apple pie in the other! The whole thing is iced in butter cream frosting.  Decadent?  Maybe, but Christmas shopping kicks off on Friday, and carbo-loading is an essential step needed to stay in the game.

Here’s to wishing you and yours a Happy, Healthy Thanksgiving.  See you at the gym on Friday!

Hot Tamale/Cold Fish

They say that opposites attract.  If that is the case, then desirable room temperatures are creating an unbreakable bond between me and my mate.  I am always hot, he is always cold. I’m talking extreme polar opposites.

 When the first leaves begin to change color in fall, he breaks out his insulated boots, and techno-heated gloves.  I cling to my flip-flops till the first snow fall. One of our favorite pastimes is that old game “who has been messing with the thermostat?” The children have become temperature savvy, they put on sweaters when I win, and T-shirts if he gets control. This difference of opinion is most evident at Fall/Winter sporting events.  I toss on a cardigan or light windbreaker, while he dons a Carhart jumpsuit that is rated to withstand temperatures of 30 below.  With that outfit, and two flashlights he could guide jumbo jets in at our local airport. He owns an entire drawer of insulated socks, and long underwear.  I won’t begin to tell you about his stock of winter head gear. If our planet ever experiences another ice-age, he will be the go to guy.  I, on the other hand, enjoy things a little brisk.  He claims that our home is so cold during the summer; it could be mistaken for a meat locker.  I retorted that I felt like I was living in equatorial Africa during the winter months.

The temperature tussles really go into high gear in the bedroom.  I sneak off to bed before him, and crack the window a little bit.  I breathe deeply the cool fresh air, and drift off to sleep.  If I do not wake when he is closing the window, and grumbling about heating the whole outdoors, I will wake up as I suffocate under the massive amount of quilts he tossed on.  A friend suggested an electric blanket as a solution.  That was rejected the first night. We had mixed up the dual controls; he nearly roasted me alive by turning that thing up to maximum heat.  I still get nightmares! By dawn you can usually find me sprawled atop the covers gasping for air. I’m so hot that you can cook flapjacks on my forehead. Meanwhile he slumbers on, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets.

When our eldest left for college, we had different ideas about what temperature related items he would require. His father did not think the comforter, quilt, blanket, and afghan would be enough to ward off the chill in the “notoriously overheated” (my opinion) dorm room.  I felt that you can never have enough fans, when air-conditioning is non-existent. A truce was called; he left with one industrial strength fan, and minus one afghan. We sound like the three bears when we talk to him; “is your room too cold”, “is your room too hot?”  He always assures us that it’s just right!

Our upcoming temperature skirmish will deal with the question “where are we going to retire?” I’ll let you guess who plans to go to Florida!

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, Its Off to Sam's I go.....

It is a gorgeous autumn day, and what do we do? Go to Sam’s club! We finally came to the end of our pallet of soap bars, and it was time to restock.  Those 10 years flew by! Now mind you, I don’t actually dislike Sam’s club, I think I like it too much. Something about the atmosphere makes me feel like I am getting the biggest bargains in the world, Hell they’re just giving it away! So this is how we are spending our beautiful Saturday….with Sam.

  I am the member of our household that has the Sam’s card, so I always have to accompany the troops on their plundering conquests.  I have tried to give the card to my husband, and skip the expedition, but to no avail.  I think he is afraid of being mistaken as the person whose mug shot is on the back of the card.  My photo gives indisputable proof to what I have always maintained……. I do not photograph well. The only positive thing about that photo was the loud and honest belly laugh I gave the Sam’s employee that took that portrait. She was very kind though, and offered to do a retake. Five retakes and much tear filled hysterical laughter later, I was subject to the law of diminishing returns, the pictures kept getting worse! I can’t tell you the number of times I have won an argument by whipping that card out, and saying, “You think that was bad?” “Look at this!” I always win the sympathy vote. But I digress……

My first hurdle is getting my husband safely past the electronic department.  I briskly trot past the TVs, hoping he is with me, but alas it is never so. Just like brave Ulysses, he is lured in by the siren song of even bigger and bigger flat screen televisions. If only I could lash him to my shopping cart! He stands transfixed with mouth hanging open, gazing longingly at pictures so clear, you can actually see one’s five o’clock shadow beginning to sprout. He reverently pauses at each TV, finding the beauty in all things pixel. I lure him away, by telling him about the great deal they are running on Coleman coolers (his other passion). The spell is broken, and we’re off!

Now it is his turn to try and steer me away from the sample carts.  I am a sucker for hors d’oeuvres; keep your main course as long as those pastry wrapped hot dogs keep coming!  On a Saturday at Sam’s, its’ an absolute appetizer festival!  Did you know that truly amazing things are being done with crescent rolls and ranch dressing these days; ditto for canned chicken and olive spread? I morph into one of those cranky old broads that push her way to the front of the line, good manners and general respectability, tossed out the window.  Woe to the poor shopper that pushes their cart at a sedate pace in front of me. I am a possessed woman on a mission, and I don’t care how old or infirm you may be, don’t get between me and my ham cube!

At this juncture, my husband usually steers my chariot, now full of useless things I didn’t know I couldn’t live without, and foods destined to live out their lives on a pantry shelf gathering dust, to the aisle with the cleaning products. This jolts me back to reality, immediately! You can’t eat it, wear it, or watch it.  Zero entertainment factor.  A real buzz kill. We collect ourselves, and strategize how to get to the cashier without being tantalized back into the buying frenzy.  “Keep your eyes on the checkout, and don’t look on either side,” We counsel one another. Then we run the gauntlet.

Once safely outside stowing our soap in the trunk, we see other shoppers rolling out their new 1000 inch screen TV and cases of crescent rolls.  We congratulate each other on our remarkable restraint, and silently think…we dodged that bullet today, but………..

Wicked Witch 2010

I have now earned the title of “the mean old witch” in the brick house.  Halloween has come and gone, and I am sure I am now infamous among the trick or treaters in our community.  Maybe I have gotten crankier with age, or maybe I am appalled at the manners or lack of, in the costumed crowd I met this Sunday.  As always, I purchased the “big” bars and bags of candy to distribute.  The packages contained both plain and peanut M&Ms, as well as plain and almond Hershey bars.  My poor husband was pressed into service as the door guy, and he was woefully unprepared. After an hour or two, he approached me, to say we were down to only candy with nuts.  He had been giving these Hobgoblins a choice!  He made the big mistake of letting them see the candy bowl, and mull over their selection. I told him to step aside, and I would show him how it was done.  The next time the doorbell rang; I grabbed a handful of peanut M&Ms and started flipping them in the proffered Halloween buckets.  I cannot tell you the number of times I was told, “But, I don’t like that kind of candy!” I replied “your choice is this, take it or leave it!” Interestingly enough, they ALWAYS took it.  Yes, I know that peanut allergies are running rampant, but a quick glance at the loot they had taken in so far, revealed the haul to be 50% Reese’s cups, or pieces anyway.  So unless these kids were packing epi-pens and vast quantities of Benadryl, I believe that part of the take would be given to the 10% house cut.  For those of you who don’t know what that means, I’ll explain.  Every bag of Halloween treats is subject to the 10% house cut.  This is the amount that parents and older siblings are allowed to skim from the bags.  Outrageous! You say? I say she who has not secretly taken from the Halloween haul, may throw the first candy corn. I also know that an impromptu candy swap takes place after the kids are done.  They get together; dump the contents of their bags, and trading rivaling that of the Wall Street Commodity pits ensues. Everyone is a winner in the sugar rush brouhaha.

 Sadly, the children that said “thank you” were in the definite minority, this year.  I know I may not have handed you chocolates crafted by Godiva, or freshly made Carmel apples, but come on, how hard is it to say “thanks?” Just wait till next year; I’m packing lollipops and sour balls!