Gratitude, Tradition & Pie

November 24, 2011

I am knee-deep in all kinds of goodies and food prep.  And I am wondering, honestly, how did Thanksgiving get here already?

I feel like it was just yesterday I was hatching plots to gain admission to my town pool for the summer.

And yet, here I am, helping my friends in town find a way off the Thanksgiving wait list for the highly in-demand Williams-Sonoma Gravy Starter.  {This was my first exposure to the WS Gravy Starter Scandal — it’s not pretty.  Add this to the list of reasons why I won’t be making the turkey.}

Here I am, wondering who the secret local Extreme Couponer is, because she clearly hoarded all of the heavy cream within a five mile radius.  It’s not nice to put my pies in jeopardy.

And here I am, making a tray of appetizers for tomorrow’s dinner, complete with a friendly PSA that any food item stuffed with goat cheese and wrapped in prosciutto is sent from Heaven {figs, in this case}.

So, with the holiday season about to unfold, I want to take a deep breath and soak it in.  I want to say I won’t get stressed out with holiday logistics and preparations.  I want to say I will remember every day to be grateful.  And I want to say I won’t eat too much pie.  But, try as I may, I’m guessing that all of these things probably won’t pan out quite as smoothly as I hope.

But I will do my very best to create new memories for my kids and show them what the holidays are about.  To remember those less fortunate and those who are missing loved ones.  To not sweat the small stuff.  To keep some perspective.

Thanksgiving headgear: Check

 

This weekend I’ll enjoy the small but fun details that make traditions in a family.  Like eating my mom’s famous Pumpkin Chiffon Pie and playing super-competitive/out for blood rounds of Catch Phrase, complete with a tournament bracket construct and accompanying headgear.  And I’ll think about what traditions to begin with my kids, so that they don’t forever associate Thanksgiving Week with “that time when Mom & Dad went apeshit on the general contractor.”

I’m snarky on the whole, as you may know, but I’m a sap at this time of year.  I don’t wish this season away for a moment.

So here’s to you and yours this Thanksgiving — I hope you have a holiday filled with love, tradition and good pie.

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Filed Under: Family, Food & Drink, Friends, Holidays 8 Comments

Still Standing

November 23, 2011

For those of you who think I’ve been incarcerated for clubbing my General Contractor in the knees, it’s not so.  So where have I been?  Well, I’ve just been recovering from the anxiety of Operation Presto-Change-o, whereby the phantom contractor and his crew made a one-day cameo appearance to take out the beams that were supporting our house to replace them with one ginormous piece of steel.

Never one to overreact, I figured I’d evacuate for the day.  But the logistics didn’t work out, so I decided on the next best thing, which was to have my good friend Beth come over and distract me with the ridiculous cuteness of her six month-old twins.  I figured, since she has two infants, she probably has a high threshold for noise and maybe she wouldn’t even notice the construction.

After distributing hard hats and reviewing safety drills highlighting the nearest exits with Beth, we had a lovely visit that managed to take my mind off of what was going on under the house.

{Side note:  My husband is also a big fan of Beth’s but he has begun to dread her visits.  Not because he doesn’t enjoy her company.  That’s not the case at all.  It’s because he sees the maniacal “I-might-kidnap-these-infants” look in my eyes.  And he knows that, hours later, the other side of my split personality will emerge and tell him we should have four to six more kids.}

We actually had a full house, as P worked from home that day — either to keep me from kidnapping Beth’s babies or to assist me with any necessary evacuation — I’m not sure which.  So he took the opportunity to bring me down to the basement — where I have not ventured in a while, to avoid a nervous breakdown — and showed me how they were switching out the beams.  It was a real, live HGTV show right under my house.  See, we don’t need high def after all.

In the most non-technical and unprofessional craftsman terms, here’s my understanding of what they did.  First, they took out the old beams and replaced them with this makeshift support structure.

I’m not an engineer or an architect but this seemed like a flimsy replacement to me.  Should it really look like a fort?

Then they took this big-ass beam and, somehow, moved it to the back of the house.  Eight guys.  One beam.

Then they slid it under the house, through the makeshift wooden fort.  And by “slid,” I mean yelled a lot and moved the Earth under my feet for about 90 minutes.

 

Then.  They jacked up the beam to its proper place.  By this point, Beth took off with her kids, which was smart.  Because I was convinced my 100 year-old house would not withstand the amount of shaking that this process brought.

But it did.  We’re still here. Somehow.

I should also mention that while P and I were touring the makeshift fort, the head mason was down there.  So we took this opportunity to corner him and try to get more clarity around things like, say, why the hell his crew shows up on a random and increasingly rare basis.

It went like this.

Us:  “Bill, what’s going on with the schedule?”

Bill:  “The schedule?”

Us:  “Yeah.  You know, we are on week 12 of a five week job now and we’re not really feeling like anyone is communicating with us.”

Bill:  “Oh but we’ve had problems with {inaudible} and {mumbling} and look, is that a bird over there?”

Us:  “Bill.  You promised us the beam would go in today {Friday} and the concrete floor would be poured on Monday.  Is that still going to happen?”

Bill {reaching for pocket}:  “I have to take this call.”

Us:  “I don’t hear a phone ringing.”

Bill:  “Oh.”

Us:  {blinking audibly}

Bill:  “Well, we need an inspector to come out here before we can pour the concrete.”

Us:  “Fine.  This is the first we’ve heard of this.  Did you schedule the inspection?”

Bill:  “No, no, not yet.  But I will, first thing Monday.  And they should get here on Tuesday.  And then maybe we can pour the concrete on Wednesday.”

{Translation: Concrete floor will not be poured until after Thanksgiving weekend.  Probably once the calendar reads December.}

___________

We could have said more.  Much more.  But the timing felt wrong.  Vulnerable, even.  I’m usually not afraid of confrontation, but I didn’t think I wanted to piss off the guy in charge of holding up my house at that moment.

And so the house stands.  Even if our nerves are hanging on by a thread and we’re about to be awarded VIP status at the laundromat.  Because, 12 weeks in to my five week project, this doesn’t really feel like quite the milestone photo I’d hoped to post.

Baby steps, my friends.  Baby steps.

As for Bill, he somehow slipped through our fingers right after our conversation and disappeared into thin air, much like Kaiser Soze.  And just like that, he was gone.

 

 

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Filed Under: Holidays, Project Colonial, That Which Drives Me Crazy 10 Comments

Holiday Shopping Tangents, Volume I

November 15, 2011

Good news:  I’ve decided to start my holiday shopping early this year.

Bad news:  I not motivated and, therefore, am easily distracted.  As you’re about to see.

* * *

So.  A few days ago, 17 catalogs — really, 17 — arrived in my mailbox in the hopes of getting my holiday attention and dollars.  Most of them were from places I never shopped at before.  Or even heard of, in some cases (what the hell is a Pajama Gram, anyway?).  But there was the trusty Pottery Barn Kids catalog, just begging me to overpay for something for my kids.

So I had a quick look.  And that’s when my level of distraction increased.

It started on page 78, when I noticed the Gourmet Kitchen Collection, pictured here.

{Image Source: Pottery Barn Kids}

Keep in mind that I’m a woman who is allegedly getting a new basement sometime before 2017, so I have spent a lot of time recently looking at cabinetry, appliances, tile and more.  I notice these things.  But I didn’t expect to notice — no, envy — them on a fake kitchen.  For toddlers.

But it’s true.  I found myself mentally complimenting the features of this PBK kitchen.

Here.  Read on for yourselves.  The official product description:

“Gourmet Kitchen:  We’ve given each piece of our compact kitchen interactive elements that encourage creative play in preschool age kids.  You’ll find knobs that spin, a pull-out dishwasher drawer, spinning temperature dials, a soap pump that goes up and down, and an ice machine with four wood ice cubes.”

Niiiice.

I admired its updated features and layout, blocking out the fact that this was for pretend cooking.

And then, it hit me.  This kitchen was bigger and nicer than the one in my first Manhattan apartment.  

 

See?  That’s the kitchen in question.  You can’t see the sides because, well, there was no room stand inside of said room while taking photos of those angles.  There was a small, non-standard sized refrigerator and dishwasher.  Small.  But, unlike the PBK model, I did not have an ice maker.  Or dials that spun reliably.  Or a built-in soap pump.

Hmmm.  Could it be that the PBK toddler set had access to better appointed household items than, say, adult urban dwellers on a fixed budget?

I was on to something, I thought.  And then it was confirmed on page 116.

Behold:  The Cottage Loft Bed.

{Image Source: Pottery Barn Kids}

Areyoufuckingkiddingme?

“…our  magical loft bed has French white paneled siding, French green shutters, decorative window boxes and an attic window.  Inside you’ll find plenty of room for an activity table, play kitchen and toys…”

I had to refill my wine.

Let’s go back to my studio apartment in Manhattan circa 2002, shall we?  No French white paneled siding.  No French green shutters.  No French anything, except a very stinky and creepy dude in his 60s who lived on my floor and occasionally stole my mail.  And we’ve covered the kitchen.

My apartment had plenty of room for — well, let’s see — not much at all.  A bed, a desk, a love seat, a table and a bookcase.  After walking up four floors.  Past the stinky/creepy French dude’s apartment.

So, it’s official:  The PBK Cottage Loft Bed is both nicer and bigger than the entire home I had as a grown adult on my own.

Sad but true.

I feel it’s my duty now to impart some wisdom to young city people with modest budgets:  Find yourselves a spoiled niece or nephew and move into their fucking pimped-out PBK playroom.  Because it will be so much more comfortable than your crappy studio.  And — hey — they can make you a killer vinaigrette reduction sauce while admiring their pre-school reflections in the stainless steel appliances.

Yes, say goodbye to that nasty, overpriced apartment and live large in the playroom.  Do it.  Now.  I know, the local social scene may not be exactly what you’re looking for, but I have no doubt that the next PBK catalog is going to have an amazing play mini bar for your comfort and convenience.

Now, back to my holiday shopping.

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Filed Under: Holidays, Places Near and Far 15 Comments

To HD or Not to HD?

November 7, 2011


Every couple has really silly things that they bicker about.  Here in Fordeville, our current ridiculous marital point of contention involves the TV.  Not what to watch (well, sometimes), but how we’re watching it.

Here’s the thing: My husband insists on watching TV in high definition.  I, on the other hand, don’t care.  Mostly because I’m so happy to be watching anything that doesn’t feature Thomas the Train, Dora or Diego.  As long as there is morally questionable content, a nearby glass of wine and non-animated adults on the screen, you could cut off the characters’ heads for all I care.

So, every night after the kids are in bed, it goes like this:

P:  What are you watching?

Me:  A very educational documentary on Middle Eastern politics.  {Or maybe The Real Housewives.  But whatever.}

P:  Oh.  Can you put on the high def channel?

Me:  No.

P:  Why not?  It will look so much better.

Me:  It looks fine to me this way.

P:  But why wouldn’t you want it to look better?

Me:  Can you pour me more wine please?

P:  Can’t you see that the picture doesn’t even fill the screen when it’s not in HD?  Doesn’t that bother you?

Me:  It looks very artsy that way.  Like an indie film.

P:  No, it looks all wrong.

Me:  How can you keep track of where all those HD channels are, anyway?

P:  You just have to add 500 to the regular channel.

Me:  I don’t add after 6pm.  Unless it’s to my Amex bill.  Plus, I’ll be asleep in approximately six to nine minutes, and then you can watch whatever high def you want.

P:  Fine.  Give me your glass.  Red or white?

———-

He’s not wrong.  It’s just far more important to him than it is to me.  And we did go and buy the big old flat screen for optimal viewing.

Could I compromise on my HD indifference?  Sure.  If it means that much to him.

So.  I got to thinking.  And here’s where I landed.  Because I’m a giver.

 

 1)  I am open to the possibility of HD for:

–Food Network shows featuring desserts, particularly molten chocolate cakes.  If you know of any molten chocolate cake episode marathons, definitely drop me a line.

–Any film starring Edward Burns, Javier Bardem or Edward Norton.  For obvious reasons.

–Travel shows, but only if I’ve been to the featured destination myself, or have the possibility of going sometime.  If it’s gorgeous and I can never get there, then forget it — that’s just torturous.

 

 2)  I am completely opposed to HD for:

–Sports of any kind.  I don’t want to see the beads of sweat.  Or the spit.  And we have officials who are well-paid to make any close calls.  It’s not my job.

–Children’s programming (see examples above).  There’s  just no need to take my Brain Melt to another level.

–Any appearance, no matter how brief, of the following television personalities:  The Duggars, Teresa Guidice of RHONJ (as well as her husband and children), and Kathie Lee Gifford {full disclosure:  I am also totally opposed to seeing Kathie Lee in standard definition.  In fact, I’d like to have a word with the TV exec who decided to bring her back on the air.}

–All programming involving child birth.  I lived through the HD version (complete with audio), so I’m all set with those visuals, thankyouverymuch.

–Forensic/crime shows (CSI, Law & Order, etc.).  Basically, anything that has a crime scene, an autopsy table and a Medical Examiner.  Except Castle.  Because of, well, Castle — he looks really good in HD.

 

I think this represents progress and a good degree of compromise on my part.  If only my husband wanted to watch any of the shows in my “possibly pro HD” list.  I guess this means he’s just going to have to rely on how consistently I fall asleep about two hours before he does.  Then he can watch Storage Wars, UFC, the NFL and How It’s Made in HD.  Every night.

{“Tonight on How It’s Made:  The history of dust.  Brought to you in high definition.”  Why, yes, I’ll completely regret sleeping through that.}

What about you guys?  Are you all “Give me the HD channel” like my husband?  Or are you more of the “Where’s my evening cocktail, and I don’t even know where the HD channels are located” type?

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Family 22 Comments

Lawyering Up

November 2, 2011

NOTICE OF LEGAL ACTION

TO:            Residents of Fordeville

FROM:       Señor, Head Household Pet and Chief Bacon Officer

DATE:         November 2, 2011

SUBJECT:   Options Related to Legal Emancipation

* * *

Please be advised that I have retained an attorney to seek legal emancipation on the basis of breach of contract.

Specifically, we had an agreement pursuant to Halloween 2010 (see Exhibit A) that I would no longer, as a middle aged dog, be subjected to unwanted holiday gear, costumes and the like going forward.

Exhibit A

Following the recent events of Halloween 2011 (see Exhibit B), it has become abundantly clear to me that you have purposefully and flagrantly breached our agreement, at the expense of my personal character.

Exhibit B

If necessary, I am willing to dig up previous examples of the indignities I’ve suffered and further evidence of my costume disdain, like the Santa collar of 2006 or the Señor Halloween costume of 2005, complete with sombrero and cape.  I think you know what photos I mean — and they speak for themselves.

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that and we can settle our differences amicably, based on our past history.

 

Exhibit C

Because I generally like you, despite the fact that you have brought two human children into the house to live without my consent (see Exhibit C), I am willing to postpone filing for legal emancipation if you agree to meet the following conditions:

–Submit to a restraining order that prohibits you from coming within 100 feet of any pet costuming stores.  Similarly, you agree to block all related websites from your computer.  Holidays included in this demand consist of Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Easter.  {Note:  Sweaters and related canine apparel are generally acceptable, as long as they exude good taste and functionality.  I’d be particularly grateful if you could resurrect my winter faux fur camouflage jacket.}

–Agree to provide me with an acceptable amount of treats — preferably of the bacon or chicken variety — on a twice daily basis.  Said amount will be at my discretion and only overridden if health issues arise.

–Enforce a Zero Tolerance policy with regard to the human children riding me like a pony.

–Allow me to sleep in your bed — all night, every night — despite my snoring, drooling and shedding.

It is my hope and expectation that, given my loyalty and charming personality over the years, you will agree to my conditions without reservation or modification, effective immediately.

My attorney is currently somewhat pre-occupied with a high-profile Hollywood divorce case (something about an absurd 72-day reality TV union), so please feel free to communicate with me directly during my waking hours near my water dish.

Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.

 

_______________

{Addendum:  October 29, 2012.  It appears I slipped and have violated the terms outlined above, as demonstrated by this weekend’s photos below — soon to be known in the public record as Exhibits D & E, respectively.  The pug and I will be speaking with a mediator as soon as the wrath of Sandy passes.}

 

 

 

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Filed Under: Family, Holidays 19 Comments

Money in Flames: Power Outage Edition

November 1, 2011

Up until Hurricane Irene, I never had a discussion with anyone in my life about the importance of the following:

–Sump pumps with battery back ups

–Sump pumps, in any capacity

–French drains

–Generators

I guess I was living the Polyanna life all these years.  But there I was this morning, at my two year-old’s play group, talking with four other moms about all of this.  And let me tell you, we were all terribly well-versed on these topics.  More so than any of us wanted to be.

Not just because of Irene and the related problems she caused in August — but also because of last weekend’s insane October snow storm.

It all sounded so quaint and fun at first.  A little snow before Halloween — how sweet.  I passed around the projected accumulation chart at happy hour on Friday night — because nothing screams “let’s party” like a weather graphic.  And we all had a good laugh, in a mocking sort of way.

But when it arrived, this little storm was distinctly not sweet.  Or  little.  Or fun.  At all.

The trees, still heavy with leaves at this time of year, snapped everywhere from the weight of the snow and ice.  Roads were blocked.  Lines down.  And yes, power out.

For the second time in 60 days, we faced a multi-day power outage.  This was also known as my Amish Training.  Or my Laura Ingalls Wilder reenactment.  Either way, not areas of strength for me.  Because I am not a fan of weaving at the loom by candlelight.  Or, more desperately, having to read Us Weekly a riveting book with a flashlight.  How am I supposed to hold my wine if I have to also hang onto my trashy tabloid magazine book and a lighting source?  How did the Ingalls family do it?

I guess they had those giant lanterns.  But since I didn’t, you can see the dilemma I faced.  Without enough hands, obviously the reading went by the wayside so I could safely hold my wine in the dark.  In the name of survival.

And, if you were ever wondering which is worse — a power outage in the heat of the summer or in the cold of fake-winter-in-October — guess what?  It’s your lucky day, because I am now qualified to tell you.

In the cold is way worse, especially if your heat is in any way reliant on electricity.  Oh, and super especially if you have a little something like a gaping hole in the side of your house  from an endless basement renovation, which allows all of the freezing air right in.  {Have I mentioned the basement renovation before?  I have, haven’t I?}

Good times, my friends, good times.

What’s that?  Why didn’t we get a generator after Irene?

Well, we were simply waiting for the electrical upgrade in the basement to be finished.  We didn’t realize that 1) this work might not happen until 2017 and 2) it would snow like crazy in October.

So there was only one thing on fire in the cold dark night:  Our money.  As in, the $200 of groceries I had just purchased that were spoiling in the refrigerator.  Because, surely I didn’t think our cute October snowstorm would mean ultimately sacrificing fresh meat and dairy products.  Trust me, I would never knowingly endanger cheese.  Or chilled white wine.  Or — for the love of all that is holy — an unopened pint of Edy’s Slow Churned Mint Chip.

But, there I was — just about 60 days after the last time I did this — emptying out the refrigerator into my trash can after the power was restored.

Money.  On fire.

And snow in October.  I think it’s going to be a long winter, folks.

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Filed Under: Food & Drink, Money in Flames 4 Comments