In passing I believe I mentioned the fact that we got a new television for Christmas. It was going to have to be a gift from Santa, because over the last year I have firmly said, no, we don't need a new one. With great frequency, Mark would steer me in the direction of checking out the new TVs in Target, Best Buy, WalMart, any site online that showcases big ole screens to watch nothing in particular on. I was always unimpressed, and stood on solid ground that we did not need a new one.
He would desperately try to wow me with screen-size information: That's 582 inches. Can you imagine movies on that? He would attempt to woo me with the clarity of the screen, including the health angle. I don't even think our screen picture is good for our eyes anymore.
I'm sure all this is true, but all I saw was a morbidly large screen with a terminally huge price tag to go with a piece of equipment that was going to pretty much be used for watching PBS and reruns of Seinfeld. I wasn't buying the argument, or the television.
Until we started to experience an identifiable, non-remediable problem. Every time we clicked the On Button on the TV or remote, nothing would happen. As a matter of fact, the only way we could actually get the show to appear on the less than satisfactorily sized screen, we had to push the On button, repeatedly. It essentially needed time to warm up, it was that aged. And unlike wine or cheese, this type of aging was not going to improve with time. No, we were going to get to the point of having to hit the On button over and over and over, for at least ten minutes before anything would pop up. And when Cat in the Hat or Modern Family or football would finally appear, it would just as quickly go away, and we would have to start the process all over again. By the end of our time with our TV, it was taking a good twenty, twenty-five minutes to turn on.
And I promise you this, if it wasn't the sheer frustration of the maddening series of actions it took to watch a show that got my tune a' changing about a new TV, it was Heath's reaction each and every time this happened. He would shout in disgust, throw his body on the ground, and make a noise that has no words to describe it. It's beyond the worse whine you can imagine, with animalistic, guttural exasperation.
I will say we, both Heath and I, learned to use our words about our annoyance. Silly TV, we would say, shaking our heads with faint smiles of bemusement, clicking the On button to the point of Carpal Tunnel of the thumb. It was actually an excellent exercise in demonstrating a calm reaction for Heath, as I was most definitely faking it. What I really wanted to do was fling the remote as hard as I could at the screen and unleash a long stream of expletives at a volume audible to my neighbors.
So when Heath let the cat out of the bag three days before Christmas that Mark had purchased a TV for us, I had two competing thoughts. 1) How much did it cost? And 2) Thank God.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Pot Liquor
Or pot likker, if you prefer a more Southern twist on something that is already twistedly Southern. We were having a New Year's lunch at my parent's house and I volunteered to make the Collard Greens and black eyed peas. Traditional holiday fare, and wanting to continue my cooking experimentation, I was anxious to give these two dishes a whirl.
For some reason a giant pot of collards seemed like no easy feat. Turns out the hardest part was buying the enormous bunches of greens leaves at the HT yesterday. And it wasn't even the collard's fault. Stella was on a get-away mission down the produce aisle, trying to push a cumbersome pick-up truck of a cart. Upon my return from the grocery store trip that took three times longer than it ever should, I Googled cooking collard greens. They all said the same thing.
Wash the leaves, repeatedly.
Water
Salt
Bring to a boil, then simmer on low for at least an hour
There were a few spins on the directions. Many included ham hocks. I chose to leave the pig, er, behind. Lots of them mentioned cooking the leaves in vinegar. I figured this was better left to the green eat-ee. And I stumbled across one that suggested sauteeing onions in the bottom of the pot, then adding the water and greens. This seemed like a tasty idea. I also enjoyed the fact that they had a delightful serving suggestion.
Apparently the liquid that is accumulated after cooking the greens is chock full of vitamins, taste bud tantalizing deliciousness, and has an extracurricular activity. The Pot Liquor, or Pot Likker, can be sopped up with corn bread. Upon first glance Mark and I may not seem like sopping up type of folk, but when I read the tip outloud, the girlish giggling delight that erupted from Mark would say otherwise. And I have to say, before I even knew it had a name, I already had visions of what I always do when the leaves have been consumed and all that is left is a pool of greenish, cidery, salty vinegar. I take a piece of corn bread. I stick it in the now-forever-named Pot Liquor. And I sop that shizzle up.
There was much banter about Pot Liquor all morning while the giant greens simmered in the pan. As we ran our morning loop around the neighborhood, I found my belly sloshing about, starving for the promised money and good luck of our New Year's Day lunch menu.
We arrived at my parent's house with hearty appetites and a whole mess of greens and black eyed peas. As I opened my Collard Greens dish out of the bag, I instantly noticed a distinct amount of liquid on the outside of the container. The Pot Liquor had leaked. Everywhere. Mark and I collectively gasped at the misfortune. Someone said don't worry, we'll clean it up. But it wasn't the mess of the spill I was concerned with, it was the fact that the Pot Likker had oozed out of the container, leaving us with what seemed like little to no chance of sopping anything up with corn bread. In fact, so much of the liquid was gone, it seemed there would be little point to try a sneaky plate licking, if one dared to be so crude.
Upon further investigation, and clean up, it turns out that we had enough good stuff to do whatever we wanted with the juices of our greens and vinegar and corn bread. We were all able to get plenty pot liquored up on good fortune for 2011. Mark consumed a a fair amount of pork roast, too, so I think we should be set.
Money. Check. Good fortune. Check. Prosperity. Check. A reason to say Pot Likker. Super Check.
For some reason a giant pot of collards seemed like no easy feat. Turns out the hardest part was buying the enormous bunches of greens leaves at the HT yesterday. And it wasn't even the collard's fault. Stella was on a get-away mission down the produce aisle, trying to push a cumbersome pick-up truck of a cart. Upon my return from the grocery store trip that took three times longer than it ever should, I Googled cooking collard greens. They all said the same thing.
Wash the leaves, repeatedly.
Water
Salt
Bring to a boil, then simmer on low for at least an hour
There were a few spins on the directions. Many included ham hocks. I chose to leave the pig, er, behind. Lots of them mentioned cooking the leaves in vinegar. I figured this was better left to the green eat-ee. And I stumbled across one that suggested sauteeing onions in the bottom of the pot, then adding the water and greens. This seemed like a tasty idea. I also enjoyed the fact that they had a delightful serving suggestion.
Apparently the liquid that is accumulated after cooking the greens is chock full of vitamins, taste bud tantalizing deliciousness, and has an extracurricular activity. The Pot Liquor, or Pot Likker, can be sopped up with corn bread. Upon first glance Mark and I may not seem like sopping up type of folk, but when I read the tip outloud, the girlish giggling delight that erupted from Mark would say otherwise. And I have to say, before I even knew it had a name, I already had visions of what I always do when the leaves have been consumed and all that is left is a pool of greenish, cidery, salty vinegar. I take a piece of corn bread. I stick it in the now-forever-named Pot Liquor. And I sop that shizzle up.
There was much banter about Pot Liquor all morning while the giant greens simmered in the pan. As we ran our morning loop around the neighborhood, I found my belly sloshing about, starving for the promised money and good luck of our New Year's Day lunch menu.
We arrived at my parent's house with hearty appetites and a whole mess of greens and black eyed peas. As I opened my Collard Greens dish out of the bag, I instantly noticed a distinct amount of liquid on the outside of the container. The Pot Liquor had leaked. Everywhere. Mark and I collectively gasped at the misfortune. Someone said don't worry, we'll clean it up. But it wasn't the mess of the spill I was concerned with, it was the fact that the Pot Likker had oozed out of the container, leaving us with what seemed like little to no chance of sopping anything up with corn bread. In fact, so much of the liquid was gone, it seemed there would be little point to try a sneaky plate licking, if one dared to be so crude.
Upon further investigation, and clean up, it turns out that we had enough good stuff to do whatever we wanted with the juices of our greens and vinegar and corn bread. We were all able to get plenty pot liquored up on good fortune for 2011. Mark consumed a a fair amount of pork roast, too, so I think we should be set.
Money. Check. Good fortune. Check. Prosperity. Check. A reason to say Pot Likker. Super Check.
Friday, December 31, 2010
And We'll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet...
The kiddies are ringing in the New Year at Papa and HeHe's. My guess, and hope for Papa and HeHe's sake, is they are sound asleep by this point and will miss the actual midnight moment. From the feel of my eyelids, I, too, will miss the ball dropping.
Our date night included some delicious Pad Kee Mao with some dear friends and we are now channel surfing the last 35 minutes of 2010 away. Channel surfing on basic cable. It's as exciting as it sounds.
Of course the big topic of the evening news is New Year's Resolutions. I am grateful I don't have quitting smoking on my list. Last year my resolutions were 1) develop the patience of the man with the Yellow hat, and 2) blog everyday. Let's see, my patience and tolerance was maxed to every extreme. And I have to say, I failed miserably at times. But then there were those moments when I actually did what George's friend does in moments of sheer frustration: take a deep breath, understand that the trouble is that of a monkey, and help the little critter try, try, try again.
And if I can get this little blip posted, I'll have made 296 posts. An entire year of Heath and Stella-isms, running adventures, parenting bloopers, cooking trials (and errors), housemaking, holiday-gathering, movie-watching, birthday partying, baby showering, pool-going, ice cream eating, and weather complaining. My only regret: I let fatigue, boredom, fear, etc. get in the way of posting those 69 missing posts.
I haven't worked out my 2011 resolutions just yet. I still have 15 minutes left of this year. Hmmm...what to do with that time...oops...14 minutes...9 minutes...8 minutes...
Our date night included some delicious Pad Kee Mao with some dear friends and we are now channel surfing the last 35 minutes of 2010 away. Channel surfing on basic cable. It's as exciting as it sounds.
Of course the big topic of the evening news is New Year's Resolutions. I am grateful I don't have quitting smoking on my list. Last year my resolutions were 1) develop the patience of the man with the Yellow hat, and 2) blog everyday. Let's see, my patience and tolerance was maxed to every extreme. And I have to say, I failed miserably at times. But then there were those moments when I actually did what George's friend does in moments of sheer frustration: take a deep breath, understand that the trouble is that of a monkey, and help the little critter try, try, try again.
And if I can get this little blip posted, I'll have made 296 posts. An entire year of Heath and Stella-isms, running adventures, parenting bloopers, cooking trials (and errors), housemaking, holiday-gathering, movie-watching, birthday partying, baby showering, pool-going, ice cream eating, and weather complaining. My only regret: I let fatigue, boredom, fear, etc. get in the way of posting those 69 missing posts.
I haven't worked out my 2011 resolutions just yet. I still have 15 minutes left of this year. Hmmm...what to do with that time...oops...14 minutes...9 minutes...8 minutes...
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Happy New Year, Charlie Brown!
We stumbled upon a little treat this evening. Actually, two little treats. Turns out there's a Happy New Year, Charlie Brown episode, and a wintry She's a Great Skate, Charlie Brown program. The kids were delighted. Heath loves the physical comedy antics--Peppermint Patty falling down on ice is sure to get a belly laugh. And Stella, ever-compassionate, felt Charlie's disappointment when he slept through The Little Red-haired Girl's visit to the New Year's Eve Party. Char' Brown sad, she sympathized.
I'm glad the kids liked the shows. I found myself mostly annoyed. The voices were all wrong, the Guaraldi-less music lacks the least bit of luster, and the animated colors seem too bright, too new, too...too somebody else is DOING Charlie Brown.
I will say one particular line captured my attention. As Charlie Brown was discussing his new year's resolutions with Linus, he mused, Rather than dread the entire year, I'm going to dread it just one day at a time.
Newfangled or not, that's stuff to live by.
I'm glad the kids liked the shows. I found myself mostly annoyed. The voices were all wrong, the Guaraldi-less music lacks the least bit of luster, and the animated colors seem too bright, too new, too...too somebody else is DOING Charlie Brown.
I will say one particular line captured my attention. As Charlie Brown was discussing his new year's resolutions with Linus, he mused, Rather than dread the entire year, I'm going to dread it just one day at a time.
Newfangled or not, that's stuff to live by.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Winter Wonderland
I have voiced my dislike for our abnormally cold temperatures at a ridiculously early date. 20 degrees belongs in February. For one day. Two, max. Chilly is an understatement for the entire month of December.
Complaints aside, on December 25th, around 7pm, we experienced one of the few perks of a flippin' cold night: a snowy Christmas. I figured the flurries that fell on the windshield of the Jeep as we headed home from Christmas dinner at Goma's were a momentary treat for the kids to witness, and we could finally begin a new We haven't had a White Christmas in Charlotte since...tale. And does it really count as a White Christmas? Do you have to wake up to find the world blanketed in perfect white powder in order to be able to claim this title, or is it simply a matter of seeing flakes on that day? The kids were thrilled to see the wet flakes splat on the windows, I decided it meant we would surely be treated to an early and incredibly warm Spring, and we all went to bed thinking very little about the snow.
Certainly not expecting to wake up and find this in our backyard...
It's been a while since I've seen and felt quiet like this.
Complaints aside, on December 25th, around 7pm, we experienced one of the few perks of a flippin' cold night: a snowy Christmas. I figured the flurries that fell on the windshield of the Jeep as we headed home from Christmas dinner at Goma's were a momentary treat for the kids to witness, and we could finally begin a new We haven't had a White Christmas in Charlotte since...tale. And does it really count as a White Christmas? Do you have to wake up to find the world blanketed in perfect white powder in order to be able to claim this title, or is it simply a matter of seeing flakes on that day? The kids were thrilled to see the wet flakes splat on the windows, I decided it meant we would surely be treated to an early and incredibly warm Spring, and we all went to bed thinking very little about the snow.
Certainly not expecting to wake up and find this in our backyard...
It's been a while since I've seen and felt quiet like this.
But we didn't stay cooped-up for long. A snowy, peaceful jog around the 'hood. I don't think we saw a single car on the road. But we did encounter a fellow runner. He said, Are we addicted, or crazy, or what? I replied, Probably both.
You can't see it, but she's wearing a Robin (as in, Batman and Robin) costume underneath that jacket. It is her new favorite outfit, even in the snow.
The pure joy of throwing snow at your mommy.
Mark made a run to BuyBuy Baby where we'd spotted these sleds several weeks before when we were shopping for a baby shower gift. At the time, he said, Let's get one. I scoffed, We're not going to need one of those.
Stella loved it. Mostly just being pulled around like a Princess.
I just hope it won't be a one-time wonder, after all, it's only December. That leaves lots of winter days for more snow and sledding and Frosty building.
Or that early Spring could come and the kids can sled down muddy hills from April showers.
April showers that come in February, of course.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Still playing catch up with the holiday happenings, and struggling to figure out how to get my pictures to post in chronological order, I will have to tell this tale backwards.
We ended our day at Goma and Aunt Debbie's, eating dinner and opening presents with cousins, including one very special Baby Cousin Mia. It was her first Christmas, and she was wearing a bib stating just that fact. Cute. (But in the interest of picture posting privacy, particularly pertaining to other people's children, I will not include her picture.)
But I'll post the heck out of my own.
Stella. She just can't leave cousin Brian alone.
We ended our day at Goma and Aunt Debbie's, eating dinner and opening presents with cousins, including one very special Baby Cousin Mia. It was her first Christmas, and she was wearing a bib stating just that fact. Cute. (But in the interest of picture posting privacy, particularly pertaining to other people's children, I will not include her picture.)
But I'll post the heck out of my own.
Stella. She just can't leave cousin Brian alone.Prior to our lovely evening at Goma's, we opened presents, ate pancakes (made on our new griddle) and spinach and bacon quiche (bacon fried on our new griddle), and snacked on Trader Joe's coffee cake (not made on our new griddle). Papa, HeHe, and Granny Jen joined us for much of the frenzied gift-giving.
Stella playing with a Weeble Wobble Tree House circa 1976. Kept like new in my parent's attic over the last 34 years. My kids managed to crack the hollow, plastic tree stump in less than 2 hours.
Heath found that his new safety glasses have many uses, including fighting his way through the boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, tag, tissue paper rubble.
Christmas wreckage piled high in the hallway. You'll see how it got here shortly.
Mark with his Maryland Terrapin memorabilia. My brother always one to indulge Mark's "Fear the Turtle" love.
Santa brought Heath a wheelbarrow. He instantly put it to the test. It will, in fact, make a giant pile of trash in your hallway.
Stella's new love, Angelina Ballerina. Mommy's new love, Augusten Burrough's You Better Not Cry. I'm almost finished, it's that entertaining.
Heath and Stella's new tool set. She is sanding the tree, and he is, well, drilling a hole in it.
Quite a collection of Christmas morning bedhead, if I've ever seen one.
Stella playing with a Weeble Wobble Tree House circa 1976. Kept like new in my parent's attic over the last 34 years. My kids managed to crack the hollow, plastic tree stump in less than 2 hours.
Heath found that his new safety glasses have many uses, including fighting his way through the boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, tag, tissue paper rubble.
Christmas wreckage piled high in the hallway. You'll see how it got here shortly.
Mark with his Maryland Terrapin memorabilia. My brother always one to indulge Mark's "Fear the Turtle" love.
Santa brought Heath a wheelbarrow. He instantly put it to the test. It will, in fact, make a giant pile of trash in your hallway.
Stella's new love, Angelina Ballerina. Mommy's new love, Augusten Burrough's You Better Not Cry. I'm almost finished, it's that entertaining.
Heath and Stella's new tool set. She is sanding the tree, and he is, well, drilling a hole in it.
Quite a collection of Christmas morning bedhead, if I've ever seen one. Heath asked Santa for a race car. I didn't really believe that this was what he wanted until Christmas Eve when Heath reminded us that he had asked Santa for a race car, and it was the only thing he wanted. I found myself, post 14 mile trail run, wandering through a Toys 'r Us, sweaty, cold, dressed in mismatched running garb, hungry, trying desperately to find the "right" race car for someone who already seemed to have a whole heckuvalotta race cars.
As soon as Heath opened this, he said, This is my most favoritest race car ever.
Well done, Santa.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Twas the Week Before Christmas...
Apparently I need to get back to blogging more than once a week. I'm pretty sure a lot of things happened, but I can't recall them now. Good thing I took some pictures to remind me.
Heath was out of preschool for the week, Stella had her surgery, we finished decorating, shopping, wrapping, and managed to hit the trails not once, but twice in one week.
It was Take Your Son to Work week. Not really. But Heath did go to work with Mark Wednesday and Thursday afternoon. According to Mark, Heath worked non-stop on the yard, tossing anything and everything into dumpsters.
Mark also took Heath shopping Wednesday evening, and upon their return, Heath announced, We got you a new TV for Christmas. He also managed to tell me Christmas Eve that they got me more things from their morning trip to the mall while I was at the Whitewater Center. At least he was more discreet with this slip.
I suppose I'll get to the actual event of Christmas and the snowy day after Christmas. But ice cream and a movie are calling my name. Besides, I'm still trying to play catch up in my head from the last seven days.
We decked Whistlestop Road with this show of lights.
Christmas Cakes...
...made by two of the cutest elves Santa ever did see.
The only way I could get Heath in the jogging stroller this week was to convince him that he could run part of the way, while wearing my running gloves, hat, and Continental Divide 10K bib.
I attempted to clean out some of the old clothes that we have stuffed in closets, shoved under beds, and exploding at the attic seams. A bear costume for 18-24 months. He is insistent that it still fits.
Post-op, soup-face Stella. Surgery was good, Stella was the champ of the recovery room, infected nodes are gone, and we are well, well, well on our way to having this be a distant blip on the screen of life.
And we surely have enjoyed the heck out of this guy this season.
Heath was out of preschool for the week, Stella had her surgery, we finished decorating, shopping, wrapping, and managed to hit the trails not once, but twice in one week.
It was Take Your Son to Work week. Not really. But Heath did go to work with Mark Wednesday and Thursday afternoon. According to Mark, Heath worked non-stop on the yard, tossing anything and everything into dumpsters.
Mark also took Heath shopping Wednesday evening, and upon their return, Heath announced, We got you a new TV for Christmas. He also managed to tell me Christmas Eve that they got me more things from their morning trip to the mall while I was at the Whitewater Center. At least he was more discreet with this slip.
I suppose I'll get to the actual event of Christmas and the snowy day after Christmas. But ice cream and a movie are calling my name. Besides, I'm still trying to play catch up in my head from the last seven days.
We decked Whistlestop Road with this show of lights.
Christmas Cakes...
...made by two of the cutest elves Santa ever did see.
The only way I could get Heath in the jogging stroller this week was to convince him that he could run part of the way, while wearing my running gloves, hat, and Continental Divide 10K bib.
I attempted to clean out some of the old clothes that we have stuffed in closets, shoved under beds, and exploding at the attic seams. A bear costume for 18-24 months. He is insistent that it still fits.
Post-op, soup-face Stella. Surgery was good, Stella was the champ of the recovery room, infected nodes are gone, and we are well, well, well on our way to having this be a distant blip on the screen of life.
And we surely have enjoyed the heck out of this guy this season. Tomorrow's edition: What it Looks like When Christmas Throws Up in Your Living Room, then Gets Wet from a Surprise Snowy Day After Christmas...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)