Peaceful as a Winter's Day

This time of year is hectic and it seems like everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off. I would like to share a few pictures I recently took in Elk City, Idaho as reminders to enjoy the little things in life.

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by every moment that takes your breath away.” - Unknown

The Reason for the Season

It is the first week of Advent and the Christmas season is officially underway. While the pile of dusty boxes in the living room intimidates me a little, I have started decorating the apartment in fits and starts. True to my roots, some of the first decorations I have set out are the nativities. Reminding myself that Christmas is about much more the good baking smells and twinkling lights is essential and although it is cute, the chocolate Advent calendar my parents still get me every year does not fit the bill as well as a young mother tending her child in a manger (even if they are window clings). The candles for the Advent wreath I made six years ago did not benefit from their summer in a hot storage closet, but they too remind me of the reason for the season.

I have set up the Christmas village I bought for a song at the local Goodwill. The poor villagers are stuck between the couch and the front door, but the only other open space in the living room will soon be dominated by a Christmas tree that is really too large. My favorite part of the village is the little country church at the top of the hill (end table). It reminds me of Holy Cross Church in Keuterville, Idaho where my parents were married. We used to attend Christmas Eve Mass there when I was young and it will always have a place in my heart.

By and large, I can not wait to get the rest of the decorations up. The only part I am not looking forward to is the previously mentioned tree. It is artificial because a real one just is not logical in our apartment, but it take forever to set up. My grandma gave me the tree a few years ago because it was too big for her living room and that is an issue for me as well. Perhaps if I concentrate on the reason for the season as I stick the branches in, I will get a lot of praying done and kill two birds with one stone. It is worth a try.

On the other hand, this has very little to do with the Birth of Christ, but it is fun (too bad I have no rhythm and poor camera skills).

Life and Soul (along with dinner, devourer, and musical entertainment) of the Party

Don’t count your chickens until they hatch . . . or possibly ever because they might get eaten, or blown up. The Muppets are some of my favorite entertainers and even in this age of digital animation, the furry creatures maintain their multi-generational appeal. They use, abuse, distort, and create clichés with great results and in honor of a recent video shown to me by a fellow Muppet fan, I present to you a collection of items on those off-the-wall, wonderful, whatevers.



A split-my-sides laughing article about the Muppets in the digital age. I can totally see this driving school administration nuts. Meep. Meep. Meep.

Watch out, this next song gets stuck in your head.



The video quality on the next clip is not superb, but it is one of my all-time favorite Muppet songs so I will share it as the finishing touch, because, 'tis the season.

Long Time, No See

Thanksgiving weekend is a time when many people around the country sit down to digest food and watch sports and today, I was no different. While my roommate and her fiancé often watch sports, I usually do not join them for long periods sports viewing (although in the past three years that I have known them I have easily watched more sports than in the previous twenty-one years combined). This is partially due to the fact that they are big basketball and football fans while my allegiance lies with our national pastime, baseball. Listening to sports is more up my alley because I grew up without television and the radio was how my family got its sports fix. Furthermore, listening allows me to multi-task in a way that watching does not and while I like sports, devoting my full attention for hours on end does not work well.

It has been a long time, no see situation for extended sports viewing, but the real reason I spent the day watching sports was because it had been even longer since I has seen an old friend from college. It was great to see him and along with several televised basketball and football games, we watched a few Wii NBA basketball games (actually he played and I watched), and an 8th grade girls basketball game. All that sports watching made me realize how rampant clichés are in sports.

Courtesy of Wikipedia, here are some great sports clichés:

"They're a team player."
"They dropped the ball."
"It's gut-check time."
"They don't pull any punches."
"They always step up to the plate."
"They talk a good game."
"They're in a league of their own."
"They want to play hardball."
"The ball's in your court."
"They answered the bell."
"We knocked it out of the park."
"That was a hole in one."
"It was a slam dunk."
"Monday-Morning Quarterback"
"They have to get on the same page."
"D-Line or O-Line."
"A lot of open looks at the basket."
"It doesn't get any better than this."
"He's a warrior."
"Defense wins championships."
"The best defense is a good offense."
"Charity Stripe"

I am reasonably sure the only one on this list I did not hear today was the baseball referencing “knock it out of the park.” All in all, the day was one for the books in many ways.

Stuffed to the Gills

Stuffed to the gills and tight as a tick are phrases that often come to mind after Thanksgiving dinner. With thirty-six people, eighteen pies, seven cans of olives, two types of stuffing, and one huge bird, Thanksgiving with my family certainly fit the bill.

In addition to being appreciative of wonderful food, I am grateful for many things in my life and the following list, in no particular order, does not even scratch the surface of the things in life I am thankful for.

· God
· My parents
· My brothers
· My pesky uncles and cousins who like to poke me in the ribs
· All the wonderful relatives who do not like to make me jump
· Meagan and Timmy
· Seeing old friends
· The McGrees
· Riley Rabbit
· Tres (the dog)
· Black Betty (my brother’s cat)
· My pickup
· Christmas music
· Pine trees
· Stars
· The color blue
· Blue jeans
· The internet (at least right now because it is working)
· Electricity
· Elk City
· Books, lots and lots of books
· House plants
· Snow
· Carroll College
· Dr. Swartout
· Mrs. Abbott
· Kate L. Turabian
· The Constitution
· The Northern Lights
· A certain white suburban
· Growing up in the country
· Montana

Half-baked Idea

My mom and one of her friends from college used to make Christmas chocolates every December when I was young. It was a fun tradition and last year I decided to try it myself. Rolling and dipping chocolates by yourself without every having actually participated in the event is not what it is cracked up to be. It was not a particularly successful venture and calling home every ten minutes with a question made me feel like a fish out of water. I added too much flavoring to one type of candy and not enough to another. The peppermint patties were a recognizable shape, but only if you were blind as a bat. Powdered sugar was all over my apartment kitchen and the dipping process left me a little down in the mouth with chocolate dripped on everything. It was truly a half-baked idea to try making chocolates all by myself.

Dipping chocolates went much better this year because I decided to save myself the headache and mess. I used my mom as a cat’s paw to help me with the dirty work and in two evenings we had every thing done. (My brother, Eric, in the picture helped by eating.) Last year I used a little hand-mixer and it was like sending a boy to do a man’s job because this year my mom’s stand-mixer made whipping up the filling a breeze. Peanut butter balls are my family’s favorite type so I made two batches. I also made rum, mint, cherry-almond, and peppermint flavored candies. It was fun to spend time with my mom (and much easier than calling every time something went wrong) and I am sure the people I am sending the chocolates as gifts will not have to take any bitter with their sweet.

These are mint balls.

Rum cubes. I try to make different flavors different shapes so it is easier to tell what is what when they are covered in chocolate.

Dipping cherry-almond logs. I only burned my hand a few times on the hot chocolate.

Recipes

Peanut butter balls
1 Package of graham crackers (1 ¾ cup) crushed
3 ½ cup powdered sugar
1 cup butter melted
1 cup peanut butter

Mix all ingredients well and form into balls. Freeze. Dip into chocolate and refreeze. Once the chocolate is set the candy does not have to stay frozen, but it tastes better if it is.

Generic candy centers
2 pounds powdered sugar (plus extra for rolling)
1 cup butter (softened but not melted)
1 can sweeten condensed milk
1 teaspoon salt
2 tsp vanilla

Mix all ingredients and add extra powdered sugar as necessary until dough is not sticky to touch. Add candy flavoring of your choice to taste (most flavors get stronger with age). Roll into balls and freeze. Dip into chocolate and refreeze. Once the chocolate is set the candy does not have to stay frozen, but it tastes better if it is.

Peppermint Patties
2/3 cup sweeten condensed milk
1 ½ teaspoon peppermint extract
4-4 ½ cups powdered sugar

Mix ingredients by hand and form into patties. The thinner the patties are, the harder they are to dip. Freeze patties. Dip into chocolate and refreeze. Once the chocolate is set the candy does not have to stay frozen, but it tastes better if it is.

Music to My Ears

I fell in love with musicals when I was a junior in high school. That year, a few friends talked me into working on the school play and while it took a few arguments to get me involved in the first place, I was pleased as punch once I was involved. We produced Oklahoma! and many people told us that it was far better than the average high school show. I had many favorite songs from the show and the phrase “heart of gold” will always remind me of the character Jud because of the song “Pore Jud is Daid.” “Kansas City” and “I Can’t Say No” are two more amazing songs from the production.

My favorite “musical” (especially this time of year) is probably the original cartoon version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I can repeat the whole thing word for word and it was the first soundtrack I listened to on my drive home for Thanksgiving.
I love how the cliché “wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole” is extended to "thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole" in the song “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.”


The reason musicals are on my mind is because last weekend I was able to watch the Best of Broadway production of The Lion King in Spokane. I had seen the play in New York a few years ago, but it was still really fun to see the play again. The hyenas Ed, Shenzi, and Banzai complaining about Scar and Mufasa getting the lion’s share of everything was funnier than ever. Meanwhile Pumbaa and Timon were still the happy go lucky pair I remembered from the movie. The dancing, singing, and stilt giraffes were amazing as well. “Hakuna Matata” has developed into a cliché itself and the “no worries” phrase will forever be a pick-me-up for me.

Regardless of if one is watching a movie, a high school play, or a professional production, musicals are the cat’s meow.

Scarce as Hen’s Teeth---Not Really

I have a fascination with houseplants that probably sprouts from having a basement bedroom growing up. There was well nigh no sunlight and I could never keep a plant alive. Living in an apartment with plenty of windows, I have gone overboard. For your enjoyment, I have paired pictures of my friendly vegetation with a cliché that I think says something about the plant.

Little Pitchers Have Big Ears (or Leaves)

(Please Don't) Kick the Bucket

Left Out in the Cold

Green With Envy

Goody Two-shoes

Back to Square One

Dull as Dishwater??

Big Man on Campus

For the Birds? (No, its too small.)

What is Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander

(How are they different sizes?)

A Friend at Court

Independent as a Hog on Ice

Country Cousin

Don't Hide Your Light Under a Basket

(Clearly not) Knee-high to a Grasshopper

Clothes (or bows) Make the Man (or Plant)

Alas and Alack (Please Don't Die)

Sharp Tongue(s)?

Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

Get in on the Ground Floor

Going to Town

Cool as a Cucumber (or Pineapple)

Lucky Duck

Putting the Cart before the Horse

I love Christmas. However, I think that all this early Christmas themed consumerism should be avoided like the plague. This is usually the type of rhetoric spouted by a true Grinch, but that is barking up the wrong tree. I really do like Christmas (and How the Grinch Stole Christmas). Once on a retreat in college we were asked to list something unique about ourselves. I could not come up with anything I wanted to share fast enough so the girl who lived across the hall from me in the dorms said, “She has two Christmas trees.” Granted they were small, fake trees, but space is at a premium in dorm rooms.

I was at Starbucks over the weekend and not only were holiday themed drinks and cups in evidence, but Christmas songs snuck their way randomly into the music. Unlike Starbucks, I am biding my time before I release the Christmas tunes. I am making due with Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s Night Castle until I can legitimately play their Christmas albums. The drive home for Thanksgiving from wherever I am is always the start of my Christmas music frenzy. I am very excited this year because I recently got a newer pickup and now can listen to CDs instead of tapes. Of course I have to take the bitter with the sweet and I do not have most of the good, old-fashioned tunes on CD.

Decorating, in my opinion, needs to wait until the start of Advent, or the weekend following Thanksgiving at the earliest. While I must grit my teeth and bear it, I feel that early celebration of the holiday cheapens it and its true meaning. If stores were truly celebrating the true spirit of the holiday instead of trying to hop on the gravy train of consumerism, I would probably face the situation with better grace. Currently all my decorations are where they belong, in the closet.

I am waiting, impatiently, but still waiting. However, come November 27, I plan to go bananas. The only thing I will not try to force into waiting is my Christmas cactus. After almost three years of looking like it was going to die, I do not mind if it celebrates early.

Tie the Knot

CONGRATULATIONS!!!

Square Pegs in Round Holes

Round holes and square pegs is a more accurate term to describe Lego, but as this article demonstrates, six of one is half a dozen of the other and actions speak louder than words.

After reading about the author’s study of several children and their descriptions of Lego, I thought about the role of Lego in my own childhood. The plastic bricks were front and center for birthdays and Christmas and generally coated the floor of our playroom. I remember my dad receiving Lego in Jell-O and sand as jokes from relatives. My family had several suitcases of Lego, but my cousins had an entire Lego pit that could be turned into a double bed if necessary. Lego and its sibling Duplo are my parent’s favorite gifts to get their godchildren and a few years ago, to the amusement of my roommate, they sent me a Lego advent calendar. She posted pictures of the “hot fireman” I got from the kit on her Facebook.

(Photo courtesy Maggie Davis) "My roomie gets a advent calendar in the mail from her parents, right? It is not any ordinary calendar. Every day she gets a new Lego, isn't that awesome?! This would be her Dec. 1 and Dec. 2 prizes, look at the hot fireman! :)"

My brothers and I spent hours making houses, holiday scenes, castles, boats, and anything else we could think of. One of my brothers even made an entire Star Trek fleet out of Lego. We often built giant towers under our spiral staircase and dreamed of living in a Lego house. (Can people who live in Lego houses throw bricks?) However, the sad part was that we could not have our cake and eat it too. In order to build the next thing we had to wreck havoc on a previous piece. This was always particularly touchy when we needed a piece that someone else was using. Breaking someone else’s creation was like throwing down a gauntlet and eye-for-eye retaliation usually ensued.

For other Lego "battle stories" check out this blog.

Forwarned is Forearmed- It is National Cliche Day!!!

When my alarm went off this morning I was treated to a baker’s dozen of cliches because it is National Cliche Day. Of course my parents could not resist putting their two cents in and as soon as I had turned my alarm off, they called to say rise and shine and to share the news. I might have burst their bubble when I callously commented that I already knew that today is National Cliche Day. The fact of the matter is, despite my aversion to waking up to things that stick in your head, this was a great opportunity to make hay while the sun shines and get another post on the way.

At first blush, there might not be much to this random rambling, but that is what happens when you pick you words out of a hat. In honor of National Cliche Day, please join me in saying things that have not been heard in a coon’s age. Really the whole idea of a National Cliche Day is of the first magnitude so do not put your tired phrases on mothballs, but trot them on out.

I hope you take this opportunity to hold forth on cliches and go out of your way to use a few really odd ones.

Click on a link to see some high jinks other people have been up to in honor of this and past National Cliche Days.


Finally, a picture is worth a thousand words so have a



or

.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

It is easy as pie to say “no” to mean people. I have a really hard time saying “no” to good people who are just trying to be nice. This past weekend I drove 300 miles to my hometown for a friend’s wedding. It would have been a great weekend except for my inability to say “That does not work for me.” to old people. My grandma visited me last spring and we went to see an acquaintance of hers who she gave my phone number to. Now he calls me every two weeks or so wondering if I am going home.

The reason is because he gives out fruit hand over fist and always wants me to bring Grandma and the nuns she works for some. By some, he means as much as my poor little Ranger can carry. I have been doing this all summer and drove home a load of plums this weekend. That would not have been too bad if anyone on God’s green earth wanted some plums. I could not pay people to take them. A rotten apple spoils the barrel and a truckload of unwanted plums spoils a weekend. I drove down Friday and back Sunday so I really wanted to just enjoy the wedding and because I can not say “no” I had to worry about fruit. He is just trying to be nice and prevent the fruit from going to waste, but when all is said and done I am afraid the brown cows my family raises will benefit the most.

I have driven home cherries and nectarines and expect that I will be unable to say "no" to apples in the future. In many cases I was not even planning to drive home and it was very inconvenient. Yet, I am unable to say “no.” Saying “no” to drugs or “no” to the unreasonable ideas of the kids I work with is easy for me. Saying no to an eighty year-old man who just wants to send a convent full of little-old nuns fruit, that is a sticky wicket.

When My Ship Comes In (some things I would own or do if I were rich)

· My own huge library
· A cabin in a remote spot
· A ’69 Mustang convertible
· Travel to Europe
· Tennis courts
· Cooking lessons
· Trans Siberian Orchestra concert
· Build something cool for all the schools I have attended
· Travel to Japan
· Write a book
· Dancing lessons
· Have my own garden and orchard
· Paint more
· Decorate my house inside and out
· Have a house with a old-fashioned wrap-around porch
· Have a house with a balcony off my bedroom
· Own season tickets to the Seattle Mariners
· Watch a World Series
· Grow even more houseplants
· Build Riley Rabbit an even nicer cage than the one he has
· Assist various relatives, friends, and worthwhile charities
· Buy Meagan her own DQ Blizzard machine
· Take a really long raft trip
· Travel to cool places to go skiing
· Decorate even more for Christmas

That's the way the cookie crumbles.

Sunday I spent the afternoon baking cookies and other “edibles” with three friends. Edible might be an exaggeration, but I am getting ahead of myself. With a few supplies, my roommate and I headed over to the host’s house to meet the other two ladies we were baking with. Minutes after arrival, I had to drive back to our apartment to grab a few more things. Originally we brought cookie pans, bread pans, Halloween sprinkles, and a hand mixer. I had to go get a mixing bowl, rolling pin, chocolate chips, measuring cups, measuring spoons, and cooking spray. It might have been easier to cook at our place from the get go, but the company was worth the hassle.

Returning to the party, I found the other girls getting into the swing of things without the measuring utensils. I learned that we were also making the cookies and bread healthy by substituting things like apple sauce and yogurt in place of butter, eggs, and frosting. Hmmm. To make matters more interesting, we were baking in a propane oven. Far from an expert cook, I have never baked in anything but an electric oven, yet I suspected that using a different type might impact baking time and temperature. Apparently, I am an old fuddy duddy for believing in timers or worrying about things like temperature because after stuffing the oven with whatever variety of items where currently ready, we just pulled cookies and bread whenever it looked done.

Frosting went on everything from the sugar cookies to the oatmeal-pumpkin cookies and bread. Colors were made and mixed with abandon while sprinkles were added generously. The frosted cookies dripped, which did not entirely make up for the fact that the baked goods themselves were hard as rocks. We had a good time with the runny stuff, but I am not sure if it will ever dry.

When we brought the finished product to the family (or future family) of all the cooks (except me) only one person was brave enough to try a cookie. After a raucous crunch and some brave chewing, she tossed the remainder of the cookie. My roommate and I had thought about sending a care package to a friend in Oregon who has the reputation for eating just about anything. We each revised that plan independently when we learned that the head chef had skipped the baking soda in all recipes. It is an unwritten law that you should not gift people with food you refuse to eat yourself.

From start to finish, a good time was had by all, but I am not sure what we are going to do with our “edibles.”

Mad as a Wet Hen

I own an adorable dwarf bunny named Riley Rabbit. He has long, soft, white fur and deep chocolate-brown eyes with black eye-liner style eyelashes around them. I have loved bunnies ever since my mom read my first pat the bunny book to me and I wore out the fur. I had never been allowed to own a bunny and therefore Riley was a college graduation gift from my brother and his girlfriend who saw the little white fluff-ball that was baby Riley rabbit and instantly thought of me. I named the tiny fur ball Riley because it went well with Rabbit and also because it was the name of the pub where my college friends and I celebrated our graduation party and I found out about him. Graduation from college is usually seen as the fulfillment of some childhood dream, but not usually the forbidden pet kind.

During first few weeks of ownership, I solicited advice from many current and former rabbit owners and enthusiasts as I attempted to raise my new pet the best way possible. Most advice was corroborated by books, magazines, and websites. However, one person told me I needed to bathe my bunny on a regular basis and recommended some special shampoos. I thought this advice was somewhat odd, but since Riley has long hair and he was starting to smell a little I did not worry too much about the soundness of the suggestion. Baby Riley also had issues with getting his chest fur tangled with his food so when he had a green streak down his chest from eating dandelion greens, I decided to give him a bath. As per instructions, I made sure the water in the tub was warm, not hot, and that there was just enough I could get him wet and wash him, but not drown him.

Riley did not appreciate my attempts on his behalf. He squirmed and wiggled and tried to hop out of the tub. I was just finishing rinsing him when he eluded my grasp and made a dash for freedom. Unfortunately, he happened to aim straight up the neck of my t-shirt where he quickly scooted around to my back and took up residence by hooking his claws into my bra straps. (As I have gotten to know his quirky little habits better I am more and more convinced he knew what he was doing.) I now looked like Quasimodo with a very wet, very angry hump. As Riley was strategically and firmly attached where I could not reach him, I called for help. My dad came to offer me aid, but took one look at my predicament and left laughing fit to kill. I finally had to retreat to the bathroom and strip in order to solve my problem and Riley obviously found a solution to his because he has never had to take another bath.


Mad wet hens are nothing compared to peeved soggy bunnies.