why i love baseball.

you must understand those are words i never thought i'd type. but, it's true.

i've never been one to like or understand sports. in theory, sure, but in person? like playing or watching? not so much. maybe it's my ADD (self diagnosed, which is the best kind of diagnoses in my opinion) or my lack of coordination, but sports just weren't ever my thing.

i especially never understood baseball. maybe it was the tempo of the game? slow and boooooorrrrrriiiiiinnnnngggg, like the golf i used to watch with my grandpa. and it may also have had something to do with all that math, statistics, averages, blah blah blah. slow and complicated. wow, fun. sounds like a former relationship i was only TOO HAPPY to ditch.

so imagine my surprise when the duke hit me with wanting to play baseball all those years ago. not that we aren't an active family, but sports? especially as organized and intense as little league baseball? he had tried soccer the year before and didn't seem especially into it. he tried basketball and the same was true. and to me, those were the exciting sports! but, baseball?

of course i signed him up and of course he took to it and lo these many years later he's still playing and enjoying it. (as an aside, wingman plays too, but i'm focusing on the duke for this one.)

and watching him play is one of my favorite things to do. i am proud of his dedication and commitment to being a good team mate. i am proud that he continues to improve, and that he continues to ignore the crap that can come about when a bunch of boys the same age hang out together.

oh i know, i have complained about the time commitment, the other parents, the coaches, the cold, the proximity some of the best cheeseburgers on earth and my battle to ignore them, mostly, about the mouthy kids, about the nepotism, and the politics, and joke about carrying and flask, and so on and so forth.

BUT

that's just me being my charming self.

what i love about baseball is watching a team develop. despite all the differences and the politics and the posturing and the popularity of some and the lack thereof of others, there becomes a moment on the field when you see this group of boys and they become a team. and for a moment, or a few strung together, life becomes simple again. a group of boys with a common goal, basic and slightly primal, working together. cohesive. communicating. because it doesn't happen if they don't. getting a job done. a bat, a ball, a base. and they will win or they will lose, but for awhile, it just becomes all about the journey.

a few years ago we were lucky enough to go to spring training in arizona. and while the boys trooped off for games i was happy to lie about at the hotel and do...nothing. but they forced me to go to one game. i groused, (silently) but i went. and, i LOVED it.

it was warm, the day was as fine and blue and soft as you could want, my kids were having the best time, and i got to drink beer and eat a ball park hot dog. and we were close enough for the game to be interesting. now this, i thought, this is nice. too bad it never happens like this at the duke's games.

but the other day it did. the first (mini) game of the season for the duke. oh sure, the sun only came out between gusts of icy wind and the occasional parting of overhead clouds, and there was no beer and no professional ball park hot dog. but there was a moment when the clouds parted and the sun was shining and i realized that i was doing something i really really love to do. after all these years. watching my boy grow right before my eyes on the field, watching a team come together, the rest of us in the stands. enjoying the game and the day.

baseball is as simple or complex as you want it to be. it's changed so much since it was first invented, and, yet, in the grand scheme of things, so very little. and that is its charm right there. it's just as you remember it. and that is such a comfort these days.

i wonder at the country and where we are headed. so much division and vitriol, a lack of a common focus. i worry for the youth with access to so much technology that basic communication skills are ignored in favor of the instant and right away. that cohesiveness for some lasts as long as a text, an IM, or a thread on facebook. and then that's it. on to something new. that because of all this technology you don't really have to 'maintain' an actual friendship any more. that the screen is enough to bond people.

and i worry that people don't journey together anymore towards a common goal. and even if they do, that those goals are ever changing based on what's being offered at.that.moment. that it's all about the end product. that it seems every person is out for themselves, and we are passing that along to every younger generation. that things are so instant there isn't time enough to develop real relationships anymore.

so yeah, i love baseball. it slows things down and brings the simple to focus. it's familiar and timeless. even if it's just for part of an afternoon. and especially so on those few days in may and june that are so sunny and perfect they just want to make you weep. especially baseball with my boy who all too soon will no longer be a boy. it is, and has been, a magnificent gift.

now if they only sold icy cold beer at the snack stand. because an icy cold beer would go PERFECTLY with those cheeseburgers. hey, it's a free country! (for now) and a girl can have any dream she wants, right?

x.

missing.

there's a young mother of a child my child's age missing from the town next to me. her child goes to school 4 miles from my house. her child is missing, too.

the van was found partially submerged in one of the many waterways in this area. there are bodies of water and wooded areas and roads being searched. they are somewhere or they are not. and there are a lot of puzzling clues that don't seem to fit. or they do. and then they don't. she's at fault, or she isn't.

it's a funny thing about being missing. it's almost as if time has stopped for the person(s) missing. and yet it goes terribly on for those who remain. and sadly, entertainingly on for some.

where does one go when they're missing? are you missing just because you can't be found? is there something more? what is it? we wish we could just ring up the missing and ask. we hope we get the chance to ask.

what i have learned from the past five days of her being missing is that missing sucks. it sucks for those who are left behind, those who are searching, those who are questioning, those whose job it is to find the missing. but i've learned it especially sucks for the one who is missing.

i've learned that when you're missing, EVERYTHING is fair game towards finding you. your past and all its glories and heartaches, your recent triumphs or troubles, the suspicions and opinions long held by your neighbors, family, friends come to the surface. things you should never know people are thinking about you are everywhere and now everyone knows. your boss your neighbors your family your friends your community your kid's school the teachers the parents the lunch ladies they all know what others have been thinking. what you did in your past before now.

when you're dead, people only say mostly glowing things about you. they forget the past and they forgive the errors of your ways, the missteps. they may even embellish it a bit towards the positive.

but when you're missing, when you're missing people don't do this. they do the opposite. they play arm chair detective about the past relationships, the failures in judgment, the tattoos the drinking the life lived as lives over time are and every aspect of it comes to light. becomes important. they are clues. and we whisper them over fences and type them in the comments section of the new sites and smugly repeat them in articles and on the local news.

whoever you worked to become falls away and you are just the sum of a lot of parts. and not in a good way. your past is not a long and winding path to the person you've become, it's just a bread crumb trail to this inevitable fuck up.

when you're missing, at first it's sad and scary. there's a flurry of activity. where are you!?! and then it becomes your fault somehow. at first they say 'oh she could never.' and then they start listing the reasons why she probably did. innocent then guilty. guilty as all her past sins. because if it's your fault it can't happen to us. why are you doing this !?!

and i have to think that we don't wish the missing person malice. i have to think this is protection. for us. those who are not missing. because it could happen to anyone. couldn't it? it could happen to you or your kid it could happen to your neighbor your sister your friend.

oh, but not if we didn't have this suspect past. not if we don't buy wine in the big bottles or run around with friends with tattoos. not if we don't love the wrong people or grow up in the wrong town. well then, yes. that's different. yes. that's not us. we aren't her. so it couldn't happen to us.

i check the news every day. many times. i think about her and the boy. i hope she wasn't drinking and driving with the boy in the van, which is one of the theories. and by hoping that i fall victim to that which i am speaking out about. sigh. i am silly and mortal. still, i worry. i try to imagine that it isn't the worst case scenario. i try not to silently judge with the little bit of information at hand. i try to remember she is a silly mortal too. and i am glad for these few days when the weather's been fine, brisk, but sun shining. worried at the cold nights. worried for her and the boy.

where do you go when you go missing? and hell, what happens if you come back? what do you come back to? will you come back?

i don't know why this woman is missing. she just is. and i hope for her and i pray for her. and for the boy. may they be safe. and may things work out for the positive. and i just hope that if i ever went missing those who knew me would be kind. would understand that it wasn't of my own doing and use snippets heard here and there, or witnessed, as trial and jury and verdict.

because i've made a lot of mistakes and missteps, possessed suspect judgment and employed whacked thinking, i've been wrong when i thought i was right, and i have made a mess of things a time or two.

and i would hope that people see that those aren't bread crumbs to the inevitable fuck up. that they are steps on a path to who i am today. evidence not leading to an 'obviously' bad conclusion, just evidence of a life lived. and sometimes lives are messy and some of us just work everlong to pull them up and forward.

if i ever go missing may the world be kinder to me than it is being to this woman. because while all of it may be clues, and those clues may add up to fault, right now it's still her life. her one beautiful life. and the boy, his life. his mom. and we should be more mindful. facts, not judgment. until we know. and even after. even after we know, regardless of the outcome. of fault. be mindful. because unless you've walked in those shoes, you just can't ever know. you can't.

god help us who meet trouble on the path. and save us from those who find out about it.

x.

love and loathing in the pacific northwest.

i enjoy reading the local news sites on the interwebs. mainly because this is where i live, but mostly because the comments section is so hilarious, heartbreaking, and typical.

i like to joke about where i live and call it my (red)neck of the woods. i say that with love AND loathing, which i find to be a fabulous combination that cannot be applied randomly.

i live in a beautiful area. gorgeous and heart stopping in some cases. and while it's funky and mostly a tear down to some, my own particular little spot and abode makes me happy. and is especially beautiful this time of year.

BUT

there are things about where i live that make it less than ideal. for me. community wise. and i didn't consider this before we moved out here. had i considered it before i don't know that we would have. who knows. we're here now.

so.

lately there is a lot of good, and good news going on locally. a new store in the town two towns away that is selling only locally grown produce, dairy, and meat, and locally made products. essentially a year round farmer's market indoors. that's pretty cool.

in the past decade since i've been here i've seen a walking trail put in right in the middle of the retail hub of the county. a beautiful and enjoyable and scenic walking trail. long enough and diverse enough to be worth it. with wetlands, and big trees, and salmon, and it goes right by costco and you don't even see it.

i've seen bridges and roads re-done to better encourage and protect the salmon streams that run through our county, and no less than three new parks built in my town alone.

i've also seen the library levy FAIL by a huge margin because there are 'other things to worry about more.' don't get me started on that. we lost hours and vital resources at all the libraries because of it. i wrote the letter of my life to the editor about that one and would have written more but the profanity. oy. like a runaway toyota i put both feet on the brakes of profanity but it wouldn't stop coming. so, naturally i kept the subsequent letters to myself.

we also don't have a trader joe's. still. it's TWO THOUSAND TEN PEOPLE! i've lived here TEN YEARS! and NO trader joe's. i consider THAT a failure of epic proportions.

but what we DO have are plenty of sexpresso stands. which, as some of you may already know, i like to keep my eye on. oh jeeze, not literally, but the whole thing just makes me giddy. it's like a carl hiaasen novel come to life. i love how people get so up in arms about it. those who think it's okay, those who think it's the devil's handiwork. mostly i love considering the safety and the practicalities, and lack thereof. i've said it before and i'll say it again, i don't have anything against women taking their clothes off for any reason, if it's consensual it's your own business. BUT

all that steam and hot liquid, all that exposed flesh. it's just an accident waiting to happen.

so when there's an article or a letter to the editor about a new stand going up or just the existence of them, as you may imagine the comments section always makes for a good read. the two camps get going and you just can't stop them.

the people who are *for* think that the people who are *against* are all 'repressed middle aged women who used to be fun but who have let themselves go and are now bitter.' the people who are against always drag out the 'what if this was your daughter you pervert wacko in god's name why in the samhell do you need to see boobs and butts while you get your morning coffee?' argument.

but what i really love are the gems. the comments that really have nothing to do with the debate, but just because somebody wants to make them. these are usually made by people you've seen before. the serial commentators who seem to treat the on-line local news comments section as their own personal social networking site. maybe they couldn't figure out facebook? or they don't have enough followers on twitter? but they are always there and they always have something to say about 'everything.' and by 'everything,' i mean 'themselves.' because while they relate their comments somewhat to the article, it's usually just all about them.

so this last most recent article was no exception. but there was one comment that just made me laugh out loud because while it was all about the commentator and not about the actual debate at hand, it was so perfect, and summed the whole thing up in a nutshell.

'fasteddie' wrote, and i quote, "The best times of my life were when naked and around other naked or semi-naked women."

nice.

and therein lies the rub, pardon the pun, of the whole argument. you're up against a lot when you try to argue against women getting naked for business purposes and men paying for it. coffee or all the otherwise. there's just too much there. biology, history, whipped cream being sprung from a can.

that being said, and all kidding aside, i really sincerely hope i don't ever go missing from this town or get into the kind of trouble that would put me in the news. of course for the obvious reasons, but mostly because people are cruel and terrible about other people when given half a chance.

recently a young mother and her son went missing and the comments section was mostly positive and full of prayer and hope. mostly. because a lot are just awful.

and then you get this, "There is more to this story but you can kind of read into the lines. First of all, this lady has a tattoo. I wouldn't be surprised she is into drugs and some drug deal went bad. Why do she and the son have different names. She does not come from any stable family background."

yeah, because tattoos equal drugs, and male dominated patriarchal naming practices equal a stable family. right. i know it's almost as tiresome to be irritated about that kind of viewpoint as it is a tiresome viewpoint to have given the time we're in, but i'm irritated nonetheless. and as i said, unfortunately comments like that are not atypical. and says a LOT about the place where i live. and the people i live around.

do you see now why i was so upset at the library levy fail?

and it makes me angry about and sad for the closed minded asses of the world, especially those who live here, where i live. and for my children who have to grow up around them and their kids. and for my community whose future depends on them.

but mostly it just makes me miss fasteddie.

x.

your moment(s) of zen.

when i was about 4 years old i got lost at the oregon museum of science and industry. i was with my mother and father and older sister. i went into a bathroom while they waited outside. the bathroom had two ways to get in and out and i went out the way i didn't come in. and no one was there. and no one came. and i was never taught, or didn't remember, that if you're lost just stand still and someone will find you.

so i did what i thought i should. i left the museum and somehow found our car and stood by it. in the rain. for a really long time. while everyone inside the building panicked and locked the entrances and searched for me. when they finally thought to come outside and check, there i was. next to the car. in the rain. and my mother and father grabbed me up and hugged me. and then my dad spanked me.

there are all kinds of ways of being lost. when you're little and when you're big. and i don't think there's anything wrong with being lost, as long as you have a few tools. the ability to be patient, don't panic, keep breathing, and above all just stand still until someone finds you. really, just stop. someone will find you. always.

it is in that spirit that i bring you this installment of your moment(s) of zen.

and if any of y'all do this to me, i will cut you. LOL! no. seriously. y'all gotta phone. use it.

keep in touch!!

x.

this life. right now.

it's easy to wake up in the morning to the sun and the birds and believe that it's a new day. and that anything is possible.

and then your feet hit the floor and the day begins. and that day brings what it brings.

today is filled with pain and heartache and brokeness for some people i care a great deal about. and that breaks my heart. and it reminds me. and humbles me. because while i am having my own problems here it's easy to forget the bigger picture. and the bigger picture is that if you are lucky to have love you are lucky enough. if you are lucky to have your family near you and healthy you are lucky enough. if you are lucky enough to have a brain that's working and a heart that isn't breaking then you are lucky enough.

nothing else matters in this world. nothing. not houses or jobs or vacations or things or the lack thereof.

i forget to be grateful. i forget to be open. i forget this is my one beautiful life. i forget that i am the luckiest girl in the world. sometimes i forget. i am silly that way. mortal.

and sadly, sometimes it takes seeing the pain and destruction in the world and another person breaking down to remind me to stop and be grateful. for all of it. the good the bad and the ugly. because in the face of the alternative, and there are a LOT of alternatives, it's all beautiful. it's all good. and i am lucky enough.

be good to yourself. be good to others. this is your one beautiful life, right?

x.

it's all fun and games until someone gets lukewarm vinegar in the eye.

okay, so while i was outside and messing about with some weeds i somehow picked up this wicked little rash on my face. that was a week and a half ago. it's going away but good lord the going is SLLLLLOOOOOWWWWW. then last night i went to tuck the duke in and kiss him good night and WHAM! his rock solid head smashed right into my poor not as rock solid lip. and now i have a dark contusion to go with the rash.

i could go on, because there's more. there's always more. but i'll spare you and tell you a little story instead.

it begins with me deciding that what i needed was a little beauty 'pick me up.' something to make me feel better, beautiful in the midst of feeling decidedly not. something to put a little shine on the chrome.

it also needed to be easy and quick. so i decided on a hot oil treatment for my hair. having never done it before i reviewed some sage advice and went to it.

now, it should be said that beauty treatments and me don't go exactly hand in glove. more like fist through windshield. me being the windshield. i'm a fairly low maintenance kinda girl. i can put on the dog when i need to, but mostly what you see is what you get. all that messing about doesn't come naturally to me. so when i get into that kinda territory the results are anyone's guess. and often make for a painfully hilarious story. or, you know, just painful.

one day i'll tell you about my one and only foray into waxing. i cannot give you any more details, specific or otherwise, than that right now but i will say it.was.not.pretty. there were burns involved. and peeling. i missed work. i may or may not have re-evaluated my relationship with god. hell, i think i MET god. just thinking about it makes me nervous.

excuse me. (deep breath in...)

i need a moment. (let it out slowly...)

okay. (deep breath in...)

that's better. (you're safe now...)

anyway, so i grabbed the warmed olive oil and the industrial sized bottle of white vinegar and headed for the bathroom. please, just take that sentence at face value and let's move forward. so, i rubbed the olive oil through my hair and wrapped it in a towel. i read a magazine for the wait. so far, so good.

now. i don't take showers. i take baths. i was told to do this in the shower but the shower is all the way in the back bathroom and i don't like showers.

huh? what's that you say about foreshadowing?

so i filled up the tub and per the instructions i was supposed to 1. wash out the oil 2. rinse with water. 3. on the final rinse dump about a cup of the white vinegar on my head with the shower running overhead and then rinse THAT out. easy. oh, and make sure my eyes were closed. so yeah. easy.

yeah.

the oil coming out was fine. i shampooed and rinsed that out. then for the final rinse i went for the cup of the vinegar. i was using the rinsing pitcher so i just eyeballed it and poured it in. and then dumped the pitcher over my head. and then the shrieking began.

okay, the shrieking was all in my head. good lord me shrieking in the tub would bring at least 3 boy humans and all the cats to the tub. no way. if i can cure a kidney stone with copious amounts of beer and the tub in the middle of the night and not wake a single soul then i can handle this. the tub is like my own private idaho. what happens in the tub stays in the tub and is my business alone. no witnesses.

OH! MY! GOD! did it BURN!!! i thought i had my eyes closed!! but in a split second my right eye felt like someone poured their lifetime's supply of radium in it. and i guess it was a little more than a cup of vinegar, too. a LOT MORE. and it was cold and smelly and did i mention THE BURNING!?!

so then i tried to overcompensate by filling the pitcher and rinsing my eye with warm water. which in the process brought open the other eye. and because i couldn't really see with one eye burning and all my god damned hair everywhere (OMG!!! WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH HAIR!!!) i missed and then rinsed all the, by now lukewarm, vinegar that was on my hair right into both my eyes.

JESUSCHRISTO!!

and re-cue the internal shrieking.

i don't know how but i finally got the eyes flushed and the hair rinsed. i managed to haul myself out of the tub. i managed to only mostly feel like a lab rat whose experiment had gone horribly wrong.

so now i have two red eyes, vaguely blurred vision, and hair that smells like my kitchen the night before easter.

beautiful.

x.

your moment(s) of zen.

Dear Universe,

You've been fucking with me for awhile now. And this most recent chain yanking you've been doing is just lovely. Because what girl doesn't like to be attacked on her vainest level? But as you can see you haven't bested me. I'm still standing. I still get out of bed every morning. Everyone around me is still warm and fed and happy and enjoying life. You haven't won. And you won't. Though I suspect that's not what you're after. I suspect this is all about some kind of 'lesson.' Fine. I get it. I can do this.

So give me your best until you're all worn out. And you'll see I'll still be standing. Because I know a secret. Do you want to know what it is? I'm going to tell you anyway.

The secret is that you can fuck with me all you want and I will never give up because I know just how good it's going to feel when you stop. And that's good enough for me.

Yours,
the girl

p.s. The other part of the secret is you need to have kick ass music around if you're gonna kick ass.

it's in this spirit i present to you this week's moment(s) of zen. kick out the kids and turn it up. and you're welcome.

(it's got a glitchy pause at the beginning. give it a few seconds.)

x.

a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. step #1; get out of your chair.

a few weeks ago the duke was NOT having a very good morning. you know the kind, nothing is working and so it's easy to snap and snip at those around you.

now, when a nearly 13 year old acts like this it's easy to remind him of his age and tell him to start acting like it and not like a 3 year old.

it's easy to yell at a nearly 13 year old who acts like this. to be incredulous. to be mad. to force the behavior away. with consequences or opportunities taken away.

but i know yelling doesn't work. and whether you're nearly 13 or 3 or 38 no one likes to be yelled at. especially if you're already having a bad morning. how does that help?

so that morning a few weeks ago i was watching him rant and rave and just plain have a bad day. and i remembered that occasionally when he was a little kid he would do the same. and i didn't yell at him or try to force the behavior away with consequences or opportunities taken away. when he was little and something was 'up' with him i would re-direct. get creative. i'd 'work' at finding a solution. i wouldn't just sit at my desk and yell at him to stop.

if he had a full blown tantrum (rare, but it would happen) i wouldn't shout at him to stop or leave the room and tell him to come get me when he calmed down. i would grab a pen and a piece of paper and i would go sit next to his mad little shouty self right there on the ground and just start writing down what he said. eventually he would be curious and stop shouting and ask me what i was doing. and i would tell him that if he's that mad, mad enough to shout and freak out, then i should pay attention to what he was shouting about. and he would stop shouting and just tell me what was wrong and watch me write it down. then i would give him the paper. and then we were done.

this of course DID NOT always happen. there were times i could NOT muster it and we both had to take a break from each other. the duke was a challenging and headstrong child. and i am a silly mortal mama. one day i'll tell you about the box of popsicles i threw against the wall. not one of my finer moments. to his credit the duke just laughed at me and told me to use my words.

but i always tried, then. at least i always tried. and i can honestly say that as my children have gotten older i've gotten lazier in the 'trying' department. because sometimes it's just easier to 'make' them behave than to figure it out. to keep sitting and holler from your desk rather than get up.

but, it was time to get creative again. so i got up from my desk and i went to the art shelf and i grabbed some sparkly penguin stickers that were lying there.

then i went and sat next to the duke. and i didn't preface anything or suggest anything, i just started talking. 'when you were little, you were nervous about your first few days of preschool. so one day i grabbed a sticker and put it on your hand. just like this.'

and i took a sparkly penguin sticker off the sheet and stuck it on the back of his hand.

'and that way, you could look at it if you were feeling nervous or missed me and it would remind you that i was thinking of you. and if you were having a bad day the sticker always made you feel better when you looked at it. and as time went on you decided that we had to put the sticker somewhere else because it would come off of the back of your hand when you washed or played in the sand. so i started putting the sticker on your sweatshirt or vest and you would get a whole collection of different sparkly stickers until it was time to peel them off and wash the sweatshirt or vest. and this went on for a long time. until one day we didn't think about the sticker. but by then you loved preschool so much you didn't 'need' the sticker.'

and then i got up and went back to my desk.

and the day passed much smoother than it had started. we did school, had a walk, ate dinner, etc. just another day, uneventful.

and later on that evening, when the day was finally finished and the duke was getting ready for bed, he came to hug me good night. and right there on the back of his hand was the sparkly penguin sticker.

i don't know how to parent a teenager. any more than i 'knew' how to parent a baby or a toddler or a preschooler. but i do know i can't buy into it being some great mystery any more than any child at any age. i'm just going to do it the way i've always done it. i'm just going to figure it out as i go along.

i do know that getting up out of my chair and going to them should always be the first step. the rest will follow.

(oh. and i slipped the penguin stickers in my purse just.in.case.)

x.

it's all right to cry. but not to shake your money maker.

Dear Marlo Thomas,

Okay. I know I always make fun of you and your whole 'Free To Be You And Me' deal. But really, you just made it too easy. Beyond that I have a lot of reservations of how the 70s panned out in terms of the collective parenting of that decade's youth. To which, you so creatively contributed. But that's a conversation for later. Preferably with a well trained therapist.

I have to say that while looking back now I can totally appreciate your message, but at the time it just confused me as I grew older. Because I didn't want to wear a hard hat or be a cop or race motor bikes. What I wanted was to wear short skirts and high heels and big hair and dance in music videos. Where was THAT in 'Free To Be You And Me?' Because if it was there, I didn't see it. Where was *I* represented in that whole egalitarian switcharoo stew?

And Marlo, you must know that it took me a long time to understand that as a young woman it was 'okay' for me to want to do shake my money maker in music videos. You know, for lack of a better term lo these many years later. To want to do that MORE than want to wear a waist belt and do a bunch of heavy lifting. While being a slightly suspect career path in general, I had to learn that it was 'okay' that the only factory I wanted to join was the C & C Music Factory. Union involvement optional.

I am not suggesting I was irreparably damaged, but damn girl I had to dance on a whole lot of speakers to work that out of my system. Have you ever danced on a speaker, Marlo? Yeah, they aren't so sturdy some of them. But I did it. Because we all need to learn how to rise up and bust out of the shackles and the confines and labels of our youth.

All that aside, I am writing you today to let you know how the afternoon passed in my house. My oldest boybarian spent it baking banana bread in the kitchen while his younger brother painted a picture of roses in the other room. And all I could think of was you. Well, after I smugly filed away that whoever the Duke ended up with couldn't accuse me of coddling him and therefore rendering him useless around the house. Damn right, bee-yotch! You'll get your home baked banana bread and you won't have a THING to blame me for! (Note to self; teach the Duke how to do the laundry. soon.)

Okay, so yeah, after *that* then I thought of you and your 'everybody gets a trophy because you're ALL #1!!!' approach that pretty much summed up the parenting creed of the decade in which I was born and bred. Which I then quickly blocked. And instead went for thinking of your message in its purest form, and for what it's boiled down to for me. And for how I see it, and practice it.

And that is how in my house it's not 'weird' to anyone that a boy would bake or paint a 'pretty' picture. Any more than it's not 'weird' that a pregnant mother would push her own stalled car out of traffic just because there was nobody to do it 'for her,' and because nobody stopped to help. So she pushed it herself. And nobody was surprised. That life is for living and experiencing and DOING free from consideration of what sex or gender you may have been born to. And in my house everyone's free to 'be who you are, just let others be who they are, too.' Okay, so it doesn't roll off the tongue like what you came up with, but you get the picture.

So, thanks. Thanks for being the first to expose me to how the world should just work. You know, if it worked perfectly. Always. (Except for the "dancing" thing. But, in your defense, I do believe that was an interpretational difference. I mean, look at Flashdance. She did both. But she had the whole 'Pittsburgh steel town girl' thing going on. Being from a California valley town previously known for cheap jug wine just doesn't have the same cache.)

Oh, and thanks for Alan Alda. 'Free To Be You And Me' was the first exposure I had to him, and hot damn I've been in love ever since. M*A*S*H just solidified that. Wasn't that the BEST show? Sigh. I'm only sorry I don't have a third son to name Hawkeye Pierce. Right?

Be well and give my best to Phil. You know, when AND IF he gets his break from all the housework and KP duty. Kidding!! Ha ha ha! Oh, Marlo. This has been fun.

Yours,

this girl

your moment(s) of zen.

i have been known to be somewhat of a controlling parent. not in a dream crushing, soul stifling way, but in that i once gave the duke a piece of bread and told him it was a cookie kinda way.

in my defense, a lot of what i did, am doing, is because of personal conviction and a WHOLE LOT of research, reading, and thinking about the kind of parent i want to be. when to introduce different foods as babies and toddlers, when to allow certain kinds of media influences to kids as they get older, and everything in between.

and a lot of it has been and is simply because i'm a control freak. it's just what i do.

BUT

that being said, i am aware of it and it's something i am constantly working on. recognizing where i can make improvements, being okay with some behaviors because they fit the way i choose to parent, letting go. sometimes. even though it's really really REALLY hard.

a balance if you will. or, a *valid effort towards* balance.

and as my children get older i am really really REALLY trying to learn how to just take one step back and keep my hands by my sides and out of their business. meaning, not jump right in and do it for them. lest they *gasp!* get hurt, or OH!NO! mess up, or god forbid just get to do something on their own without me butting in and showing them the 'right way' to do it.

and whether your kids are two or twenty or somewhere in between or beyond, i think this is such a valuable parenting tool to keep in your kit. the stay out of their way and let them figure it out for themselves tool.

because when you step back they get to step forward. under their own steam.

and, isn't that really what this is all about? this whole parenting thing? the shepherding them into the future? (well, that and all the snuggling. snuggling's my favorite.)

it is in this spirit that i bring you this week's moment(s) of zen. it's really quite something and i encourage you to watch the whole thing. whether or not you have kids i promise it's worth the few minutes. and if you do have kids, by all means gather them up and have them watch.

x.

why i won't tell 2009 to kiss my ass.

i've been thinking a lot about 2009. i know it's all done and gone, but it's taken these first few weeks of 2010 to put it in perspective.

see, initially, like the rest of the world, i just wanted to pan it. to tell it how much it sucked, how glad i was it was over, that i was over it. don't let the door hit it on its ass on the way out.

but i knew that wasn't what was really there. wasn't all of what was there. because deep down there's gratitude. i am grateful for 2009 because i learned one of the most valuable lessons to date.

2009 taught me how to get on my knees.

okay, gutter brains, i'll give you a minute to work that image out.

there. all better?

the thing is 2009 did suck. majorly. it was hard. it was depressing. but it wasn't all bad. and in fact, 2009 was the year that made me the most grateful for this one beautiful life i have.

and as much as there was fear and loss and all that, the gifts of renewed friendship, generosity of friends and family, and emotional support was so immeasurable i cannot imagine that there is a luckier girl out there than yours truly. it's almost as if i got that rarefied glimpse of what might happen at my funeral. you know, see how people truly felt about me. and as morbid as that image is, it was, is, so amazing to see.

now, back to the lesson.

in all that sucking there were times i was just leveled. could not take one more step, one more minute of standing strong in the face of adversity. and so i sunk. all the way down. on my knees. and once down there what else is there to do. i spent a lot of time talking to who i believe is up there listening. saying the things i could not bear to say aloud. could not bear to think about. some times just crying because it's all i could do.

and in all that sucking there were times i was just lifted. such love and generosity surrounded me last year that there were times all i could do was sink. all the way down. and give thanks to who i believe is up there listening for all the fabulous people in my life. thanks for how did i get so damned lucky. thanks for reminding me what life really is about. not about money or houses or things. but about the relationships we are lucky enough to have with our fellow silly mortals. the enduring ones the brief ones the renewed ones the undefinable ones. i wouldn't trade any of them for the world.

there are times in our lives we are so in the thick of it we can't imagine how we are even going to take the next step. and i got that last year. and that's how i learned to just stop and not even try to take the next step. if even for a moment. take a load off. give it up to someone else for a little while. and that is a big ass sky above us. filled with whatever you want it to be filled with. with whoever or whatever you believe in. it's there. and it can take it. for a lifetime, or even just a moment.

and when you are on your knees whether it be in pain or prayer or thanksgiving, there isn't anywhere else to go but up. right? once you sink all the way down you have only just set the stage for your rising.

this is a crazy mixed up world. anything can happen. and some days it does. no one is ever prepared for the pain and the heartache. and whether the disaster is mother nature or man made when it hits you've got to figure out how to just make it through. and then make it forward.

while it's going to take another miracle to dig out of what 2009 brought, i wouldn't have traded any of it for the world. on paper it's a mess and totally fucked up. but here in my heart, i couldn't imagine feeling any fuller than i do with the real riches of life; family, friends, faith.

it's your one beautiful life. what are you thankful for?

x.

on another note, please donate as generously as you can to the people of haiti. if you're looking for somewhere to send your precious dollars (i know they are all precious, but they are even more precious to the haitians) please consider visiting the Partners In Health website and checking them out. they are already there and have been for decades. i have donated to them for years and couldn't be more impressed with their organization. it's not just charity it's a whole holistic community approach they promote. www.pih.org. thanks!

your moment(s) of zen.

when i was a much younger and more impressionable lass i was introduced to the jackalope. you know, part jackrabbit part antelope. mainly a desert dwelling animal, i do believe they were spotted as high up as the sierras. which is where i first heard about them.

now, i wasn't *so* impressionable that i didn't harbor *some* kind of suspicion about this actually being a *real* animal. BUT that's back in the olden days when we didn't, when we couldn't, wiki and google everything so how in the world could we 'really' know anything, right?

now fast forward to a few years ago at a local steakhouse with my husband. the bartender is telling us how the bar came over from england and is actually 'the' oldest bar in the state or the world or whatnot. i don't really know what he said because i wasn't really listening. because over the bar was the mounted head of a JACKALOPE! a full rack of antlers and everything! and right then and there i knew they were real!

so i say to the bartender

'hey! you have a jackalope!'

he kinda chuckled and said

'yeah.'

'yeah, i always wondered if they were real. cool.'

at this point it's dawning on the bartender and my husband that i honestly believe that the head over the bar is a 'real' jackalope. that they really exist and here's the proof.

so my husband says

'um, they aren't real. you know that right? that's just a rabbit head that somebody put antlers on. a jackalope isn't a real animal.'

'oh.'

bummer. because a jackalope would be an AWESOME animal.

speaking of bummers, this can be hard time of year for a lot of people. whatever's going on it feels like the short dark days and the long cold nights and the year coming to a close, not to mention possible financial and familial pressures, only makes it seem bigger and worse.

just remember to be good to yourself. go easy on the ones you love. that everyone is trying to make it through, just like you are.

and maybe this year we just go for the best we can do, straight from the heart. leave perfection and grandiose expectations to someone else. maybe we just try it.

and maybe that if nothing else, if the best you can do is just accept that it is what it is and just put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving forward, then hey, you're doing all right.

which brings me to this week's moment(s) of zen. it's 4 1/2 minutes and i encourage you to watch it and share it with the kids. enjoy!

bound bound bound and rebound.

happy winter solstice.

x.

still crazy after all these years.

i think advice on relationships is pure crap. mainly because unless you are in the relationship you can really have NO idea what goes on and therefore should keep your big fat trap shut. even when you're asked. seriously. do yourself a favor and just move along.

i know from experience that when we give advice or opinions we are just being preachy and projecting and so just goddamned glad it's not us that it makes us self-righteous. oh yuck, right?

because self-righteousness is like wine or candy or porn. it serves its purpose, sure, and may be all kinds of fun, okay, but at the end of the day it's just another crutch. and self-righteousness is even worse when employed by someone IN the relationship. however *justified.* because it sure feels good, but that's all. and it's fleeting. it's not going to be there to comfort you when you're sad, or care for you when you're ill, or hold your hair back when you're puking in the yard.

it's SO easy to judge somebody's relationship based on social mores and convention, but those are crap, too. and i am guilty as charged for doing so sometimes, but i'm working on it! so there.

a relationship is its own living breathing organic construct. there is absolutely no way any two could be exactly alike, and therefore there is no way there can be one set of 'shoulds' and 'shouldn'ts.' it's a ridiculous notion.

so with that, on this anniversary of mine i'm thinking of my experience with relationships. and with two marriages, one divorce, lots and lots of LOTS of mistakes made, heartbreaks, and hearts broken under my belt i have one very important nugget of "wisdom" i'd like to share. not because i have a perfect relationship, or because i think i know jack shit, but because i'm happy. i'm happy in my relationship and this is my way of expressing it. again, not because it's perfect, but because it's just right for me.

plus, it's my blog so i get to pretend i know something.

are you ready? okay...

LET THE PERSON YOU'RE WITH BE WHO THEY ARE.

oops. was i shouting?

people are always happier when they can move about their life being exactly who they are, not who someone else wants them to be. trying to change for someone or trying to change someone is futile and heartbreaking and absolutely no fun. barring a few exceptions, for the most part people don't change. they just don't. and wishing they would or wanting them to or trying to force them to just doesn't work.

and hell, isn't life just so much better when you are just...you? even if you are flawed and grappling and still working on it? at least there's a chance to find the answer, right? isn't life just so much better when you're with someone who is just who they are? comfortable with themselves? real? who doesn't have to try so damned hard? only to mostly fail because it's inauthentic to the real them?

so if you want to be with someone with some amount of happiness and success you need to be with the *them* that THEY are comfortable with, not the *them* that YOU want them to be. and if you can't let the person you're in a relationship be who they are then perhaps that's not the relationship for you.

okay, i'm off my soap box. for now. don't go too far, there's usually more.

and with that being said, i will offer the following exchange from a real life relationship moment in this house;

this morning i received the following e-mail from my husband under the subject *Dinner.*

"How do you feel about me making meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and a steamed veggie for dinner?"

to which i replied

"i'm confused? is this a trick question?"

and i'm going to honor my own experience and let my husband be *exactly who he is* and let him make me a 100% home made with love, absolutely delicious dinner while i do nothing but sit on my ass and watch. because i'm sweet like that.

still nothing but full blown excitement around here.

still crazy after all these years.

still the luckiest girl in the world.

x.

yes, internet, there is a santa claus.

so last night after a long day i was looking forward to getting wingman settled into bed, the duke settled in the living room with a book, and me settled with my glass of wine, my husband, and my television boyfriend.

i got wingman all tucked in and turned the light out and was leaving the room when i hear him ask

"mama, how big is god?"

sigh. there are times as a parent when you can defer questions for a later "better" time. like the time the duke asked me where babies came from on the way into target. but last night, this was not one of those questions. not even if by answering it it meant that you were going to miss your television boyfriend.

parental sacrifice is so great sometimes.

so i got into bed next to him and we chatted about it.

the thing is, you're never going to have a more honest conversation about god than the one you have with a child. with anyone else it's a matter of them trying to convince you that he does NOT exist and why. or trying to convince you that he DOES exist and why.

with a child it just is.

wingman has always been the one to come up with the deep thinking and the wondering and worrying. we've been driving in the car and he'll randomly bust out with something like "i don't ever want to die." or "isn't that sky just AMAZING?" or "i think i would like a stepfather."

by the way, as you may imagine, that last one really threw me when he said it. i told him i'd have to get married again for him to have a stepfather. and that wasn't going to happen. and wasn't he happy with his papa? he said "oh yeah! i just think it would be cool to have more parents to love me."

and the cool thing about talking to wingman about god is that he has his opinions and i have mine. and we can just tell each other what we think. and we're both listened to, heard. there isn't church or organized religion in our house, but there is a lot of spirituality and the study of history. and you don't have a lot of history study without study of religion. not properly. so much of what was shaped in this world was (is) tied to religion. jesus, what wasn't, right?( no pun intended) whether it was a civilization, a culture, a border, etc. you can't really get away from it. so in this house there's perspective, context, and the chance for your own opinions on the matter. it's all fair game.

and when you're 8 and you still believe in santa claus and the tooth fairy and you haven't soured on your president yet...when you still believe that the world is a good and right place filled with magic and wonder, and just enough real life, well god just fits right in there. because no one has told you different yet. and someday they will. but today, today you're 8. and you get to believe exactly what you want to.

the thing i love about thinking about the idea of/the existence of god, santa claus, the tooth fairy, true love, the perfect reuben, a margarita ordered from a restaurant that does not suck, etc., is that you get blessed with the most precious gift of all. hope. hope that the thing that is in your brain or in your heart does indeed exist. and that one day, if you haven't already, that you will come across it. you really will.

and i know hope has become a tag word of late, sure. bandied about in meaningless fashion sometimes. but just because it's become kind of trite does not mean that its real meaning and importance is negated.

that being said, to have hope as an adult is not always easy. not when you know that the world around you contains so much misery and heartache. when you may not have enough of anything that you need to just make it through the day, let alone the week, the year, your life. when there are so many needs in the larger world that you cannot even begin to think about it some days.

but when you're little, you don't have all of that. you just lie in your bed at night thinking about the things that 'could' be. things that 'might' be. hope is infinite. it doesn't cost a thing and it's yours for the taking.

that being said, my kids are HUGE believers of santa. the duke has said before, "OF COURSE santa's real. for one, my mother would NEVER spend, like, 70 dollars on me!"

indeed.

we were talking about santa awhile ago, in relation to a larger discussion on faith and beliefs and religion and agnosticism and atheism and all that. and the duke's theory was that for the kids who don't believe in santa, that's fine with him. but he didn't think it was okay to make fun of the kids who do. like there's something wrong with them. he said

"just like people shouldn't make fun of or tease people who believe in god or religion or have faith just because they don't believe or don't have it."

indeedx2.

bear with me because this isn't too formed as a cohesive thought, but to me, santa is the beginning for some kids about learning what faith is. faith right on their level. and by faith i mean the idea of believing in something. really truly believing. a precursor to actual faith if you will.

that for some kids there is this guy, a myth, perpetuated and totally co-opted for the commercial a lot of the times, sure, but regardless he remains a constant mythical *good.* something that these kids can identify with.

and his mere existence introduces kids to wishing. who else but a guy who is all about toys and candy and being good and elves and all the magic that surrounds santa could get to kids in that way? kids 'get' it. and sure we can talk all we want about manipulation and all that, but the fact remains that kids 'get' santa.

and this myth opens the door to the what-ifs. to believing in something that is so fantastical and SO preposterous (flying reindeer? chimney diving?) *that it just might be right on.* and kids know that the fantastical can be real. it's only adults who lose sight of that.

santa is about belief, even when it seems impossible. about lying in bed and wondering and wish making and hoping against hope that it will be how you want it christmas morning. even when you know circumstances in your house suggest otherwise. because wishing and hoping ARE real. they exist. and they're there even when nothing else is.

okay, yeah, i get the disappointment aspect. there's no real way around that. and having been disappointed as a child, and having seen a glimmer of disappointment in my own child's face i get it. (wingman has always wanted a Nintendo DS. he has never gotten one. he was too little then, and now they are just too pricey. he'll get over it. or he won't. who knows. as far as i'm concerned, that's what therapists and blogs are for.)

so yeah, i don't necessarily think disappointment is always a bad thing. but that's a discussion for another time regarding how parents perpetuate the myth if they can't fulfill it and all that. because i can see it eventually becoming a liability under certain circumstances.

does that make any sense? probably not. it did in my head. but that's neither here nor there because it's just one part of my larger point and i'm sticking to it whether it makes sense in print or not.

the bottom line is that for some kids, for me, i think you learn to believe and to wish and to dream with santa. and that's his real gift, his real magic. in the larger picture, it's not the stuff, it's the idea.

that being said, one day the duke won't believe. seriously, he's 12. the only reason he still believes in santa is because i let him. and because he knows how cheap i am and it's the only way he thinks he's gonna get anything good. and may i say that santa TOTALLY ROCKS this house. not in mass consumerist excess, just in real and true fabulousness.

and really, the duke may actually "know." word on the street is that he is rather an astute young lad. but he's not saying anything and neither am i.

and then one day wingman won't believe. and when that day comes, or the day comes that they really want to know "the truth," or they catch me in the act i'll say

"you know, i am santa now and have been as you got bigger. but santa is about belief and as long as you once believed that's all that really matters. and if you spoil it for your brother i'm locking you in the basement."

i don't care who believes in what. everyone is entitled to their own ideas about everything. god, the tooth fairy, the existence of the perfect reuben or a restaurant margarita that doesn't suck. believe away because i accept you and your beliefs just as you are.

but just so you know, i believe in santa just as much as my kids do.

merry merry.

x.

o little town two towns away.

so i was in the town two towns away that i don't spend time in but just happened to have been in twice in one week. the reason why this time was that wingman LOVES nutcrackers. and he loves that santa brings him a cool nutcracker each year. and i figured since santa is so busy these days that i'd help him out and scout around.

SO

i went to the various thrift stores in this town two towns away in search of vintage (read cool and cheap) nutcrackers. and one of the thrift stores is in a strip mall with a grocery outlet and a dollar store. there's also a store there called 'stupid prices.' but it's out of business. i wonder if the prices were too stupid or just the name.

anyhow, i checked the thrift store and didn't find anything. then i headed next door to the grocery outlet. it's got to be a chain because i remember this store from when i was little growing up in california. the name was slightly different, maybe 'canned food outlet' or something like that? but i remember the same rainbow logo. i also remember it was on one side of the freeway overpass and 'budget meats' was on the other. this was a convenient A to B for shopping in my household.

good lord, 'budget meats.' as you may imagine, this was a no frills concern that sold meat. cheap. it didn't smell particularly good, not bad, just not good. especially so during the scorching valley summers. and given its location, it was always an adventure as to who would be hanging around out front. who hangs out in front of 'budget meats?' and, it was not lost on me as a little kid that not only was 'budget meats' NOT a particularly reassuring name, it also had an unfortunately close proximity to a veterinary hospital. as an imaginative child this really gave me pause.

anyhow, so this 'grocery outlet' is supposed to be groceries on the cheap. i heard from a friend that they had an inexpensive wine section, too so i thought i'd go in and check it out. what's the big deal? i didn't think the groceries in this place were all that cheap, a LOT were regularly priced. certainly not something for me to drive two towns away to get to.

oh sure, unless you want "juice." oh, and it's in quotes on the bottles, too, because it's not actually juice. for some reason the 'grocery outlet' had fake juice up the whazoo. and chopped nuts, too. only they are chopped nuts packaged as "nutmeats." and i just can't. i don't care how good a deal it is. i just can't.

oh, and the wine section was a bunch of wines i've not only never in my life heard of, they all had suspicious labels with fake sounding 'fancy names.'

sure, some cheap wines can be very good. okay, drinkable at least. but these were REALLY cheap, and sort of 'off' looking. like something that inmates from an asylum would make for both a therapeutic activity and fundraiser for the facility. but not surprisingly, because i'm me and therefore cannot resist a good wine deal, i started to gravitate towards some label with elaborate swirls and something like "falalalaulia," and i was only saved by the fact that right then over the loudspeaker the song that was playing ended and the new song that came on was 'the christmas shoes.'

ARRGH! 'the christmas shoes!!' look, i love christmas music. secular, religious, churchy, all out god is our savior with the big chorus, i don't care! I LOVE IT! and often the sappier the better. BUT this song, every.single.time.it.plays. i get all weepy and cry!! but not in the good kind of way because it's such a terrible manipulative tear jerker! it's a bad sad cry. in fact it's nearly UNFAIR how it makes me cry. so i hear the opening bars and i immediately make for the door. whew, thank god or i might have actually purchased the "falalalaulia" or whatever it was for 1.99. because i know just by looking at it it was NO two buck chuck. okay, sure, it *might* have been on par with two buck chuck. it *might* have been the best wine in the world, but i'm kinda glad i'll never find out.

so i go next door to the dollar store. because it's there. and because i'm looking for red tapers for my winter solstice advent wreath and you'd think this being the season of red tapers and all that i'd find them easily. not so much. oddly enough, i cannot find red tapers to save my life. so i go in and what is on the loudspeaker? 'THE CHRISTMAS SHOES!' i kid you not! it's a wonder when these things happen (with alarming frequency it seems) that there really isn't a hidden camera crew when i look around for them.

anyway, so i spy candles right as i walk in. of course they aren't red tapers, because that would be too easy. BUT they are soy candles in their own glass holders, a nice brand i remember ordering OFF THE INTERWEBS FOR A RIDICULOUS SUM a few years back. and here they are! for ONLY 1.00! i am a cheap bastard so this at once makes me terribly angry that i didn't think of patronizing dollar stores more in my past and completely gleeful that this fabulous deal has come my way!!!

so i bought 1.

okay, i bought 4. and yes, because i have issues, i felt terribly bad about the extravagance! but they are so wonderful and i'm not getting out and going two towns over anytime soon AGAIN just to buy candles. to balance it out i did briefly think of gifting one or two though...sigh.

then i see the christmas section. and i have to look. and i'm in a crowd of people looking at the ornaments when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this older gentleman, wearing a beret and tweed no less, comes up to me...

okay, can i interject something here? in this town two towns away people don't wear berets and tweed. they are sailors, and steel workers, and meth heads. this is the same town wherein i got hit on at the stop light by the two gentlemen, one with a mullet, in the jacked up whack 4x4 with the handcuffs around the mirror and the suggestive bumper stickers on the back. where i was graciously invited for a 'few beers' at the 'drift inn.' and no, they were not wearing berets or tweed.

oh and another thing, while i'm already off track...

older men love me. and this isn't me tooting my horn (which due to a large ego gets more use than it should) it's just fact. men in their mid 50s to be exact. which, as i age, isn't terribly 'older' anymore. but it's 'older' than me. there's just something about me that they like. it happens where ever i go, but ESPECIALLY so in co-ops and health food stores. and i don't even go to co-ops and health food stores a lot since we don't have co-ops and health food stores out here BUT WHEN I DO it's like the pied piper of the saw palmetto set.

okay, so out of this whole crowd of people this older gentleman walks right up to me and says

"do you know where i can get some hanukkah candles?"

and it must be him or what he's asking or who knows but all the people in the crowd stop what they are doing and are now looking at us.

and i say

"as a matter of fact i do. i just bought mine."

and i tell him where to go. there aren't a LOT of choices where we happen to be, so he's thrilled.

and if there's anything odd about an older gentleman wearing a beret and tweed in the middle of the dollar store in a town two towns away filled with sailors and steel workers and meth heads coming right up to *me* and picking *me* out of a crowd while i am perusing the CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS and asking me where in the county, not in the store but the county because they don't sell HANUKKAH candles at the dollar store in the town two towns away, where he can find HANUKKAH candles and then ME KNOWING EXACTLY WHERE even though i'm perusing CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS because i just bought MINE for HANUKKAH well then i wouldn't know what it is.

because if you look up 'par for the course' in the dictionary you would see a picture of me that is captioned 'whenever she leaves the house...' and a place to fill in the blank of everything that ever has and ever will happen to me when i leave the house.

and this being such a big deal i have to blog about it just serves to illustrate that i need to get out more. if only it weren't such a hassle.

all right, i've got work to do so i'll wrap this up. but not before i leave you with this gem.

you're welcome.

x.

and that's why i make my cranberry sauce with rum.

so it's thanksgiving. again. funny how when the holidays come around it feels as if they were just here. what the hell happened to 4th of july? did we even have halloween? i can't remember halloween!

and every year as we're pushing through the crowds at the market, hoisting the turkey into the cart, checking items off our list, and seeing the sour looks of the people around us i always turn to my husband and say, 'next year, we're going away for thanksgiving. just us.'

and we never do. because thanksgiving is our favorite holiday and because the boybarians love it and because i think we signed some sort of contract in hell, in blood, and maybe even a little plasma, that we are bound by.for.the.rest.of.our.lives.

so it's not surprising that it's this time of year i most miss having a matriarch of the family. when i'm gathering all the serving platters, and planning the menu, and pulling out the tablecloths and assigning chores to the boybarians, coordinating who will bring what, worried there won't be enough of anything, tired by tuesday evening and wishing it was already over. but with two days and the big event left to go.

i remember going to my grandmother's house on holidays. the table was already set, everything in its place, snacks set out, ready. it seemed so effortless, really. at least to a little kid like me. like it was no big deal.

i'll tell you what was a big deal was that damned tomato aspic with the gollop (yes. it's a word. even if i made it up.) of mayonnaise on top. and not even best foods brand name mayo. the cheap store brand. not that it really mattered. or would help. bleh. all the kids were expected to eat it. all of it. i thought my grandmother loved me, but that aspic really makes me question a LOT. to this day i just can't think of it without getting really really angry.

anyway, now that i'm doing holidays, have been doing them all these years, i realize that it wasn't effortless. that it was and is always a lot of work. but i am lucky to have the best husband in the world, who is also a fabulous cook, so it's not just me on my own. and i've got help from the boybarians, too. guess who WON'T be mopping THREE rooms of 100 year old wood floors (and one room of laminate wood flooring. it looks good though! really! not all tacky like some of that laminate can look!) OR washing windows this thanksgiving!!! nice.

and yes, my extended family appreciates all of the effort and says so. and i appreciate that. so if you have a moment on thursday, go and kiss the cook. or at least give them a hearty handshake or a slap on the back. offer to do a dish. or take out the trash. or get them high. i don't know, whatever it takes to show your appreciation because it will be much appreciated.

okay, so it sounds like i'm complaining. but i'm not. okay, that's a lie. i'm complaining a little. i was hefting furniture about last night trying to figure out how to seat 14 in a place meant for 6. because this year i want everyone at the same table. and i figured out how to make ONE big table. but not before dragging everything (including a door and 4 sawhorses. don't ask. didn't work. had to take them back down. oy.) out of the basement to try and construct the ONE big table.

BUT

i figured it out! of course there's no personal space to speak of, and once you're seated you can't get up again. ever. but what's a holiday with family if you're not all trapped and sweaty?

and while it's a lot of work, if i didn't enjoy it i wouldn't do it. okay, that's a lie, too. i do a hell of a lot of things i don't enjoy. but that i *pretend* to enjoy. i have two kids, have been married twice, and am related to crazy people. i've had a LOT of practice.

all right, where am i going with this?

oh yeah. family.

and that's why i do it. and ultimately i love doing it. my family. from my own little foursome to all the rest of them.

the past few years have seen some changes in my extended family dynamic. and some changes in my own little family. and because of that, as this year draws to a close THANK YOU GOD IT CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH! i am reminded that when push comes to shove maybe they aren't who you would have chosen, but they are there. your family. and it seems a trite thing to say, especially this time of year, but it's what you got.

oh sure, toxic relatives and all that aside. sometimes there are issues and they must be dealt with properly. there are some people you simply cannot gather together with. in some cases restraining orders making it legally impossible to do so.

BUT

the rest of them? that's what you got. flesh and blood and crazy and all. and just so you know, they probably think you're as whack as you think they are. but that's what you got. did i say that already? and there's a reason for everything. even that weirdo you share DNA with seated to your left.

or perhaps you've pulled off the greatest escape and share your holidays with NO ONE who is remotely blood related to you. there are all kinds of ways to be a family.

so i say this year look around whatever table you've happened to gather at. whether it's your flesh and blood for life family, the one you married or got folded into, the one you've created over time and distance, or just this year's thanksgiving dinner family, look around and just be thankful to be a part. to share this meal on this day with these people. find one thing to be grateful for in each person seated around you.

because eventually each one of those seats will become empty and there just won't be the chance.

and life is just too damned short, and getting shorter still, to not take a moment to look around and be grateful. even it's just one day out of the year.

and even if you have to pretend.

it's worth it in the end.

x.

the build up lasted for days. lasted for weeks. lasted for years. lasted not long enough.

the duke never did any of the things the books said he would. at least not when they said he would do them. he was always on his own schedule and there wasn't a thing i or anyone else could do about it. from sleeping (or NOT as the case may be) to nursing to everything else, his babyhood kept me on my toes.

when he became a toddler all the books said he would 'LOVE to help mommy around the house!' give him jobs to do! helping sort socks! and then when he became a preschooler...emptying the paper waste! sorting recycling! etc. etc. give him these jobs because he will beg for them anyway!

yeah, not so much. not only did he have no interest in all the things they said he would, he did not want to stop nursing on his own because he's a 'big boy now!' ditto for moving to his own bed, using the potty, etc. and because i am his mama and love him beyond belief i didn't worry about these 'schedules' and let him be who he was. is.

(okay, i know, i said long ago i wouldn't blog about him anymore because he's getting older and it isn't fair to him. BUT i have to get this out.)

so, all those things he did on his own time frame i suppose i thought that growing up would be different, too. i thought it might happen, you know, later. shit, i really thought i had more time.

but in the last week he's asked for skinny jeans (in red), is wearing plaid because he knows it's 'in,' and started combing his hair (!!). and this may seem fairly benign to some, but to me it's huge and sweet and sad.

i'm not ready. while i have spent since the day i conceived him, before even, preparing him for every step, for every development, for being an actual autonomous human being, i'm not ready for it.

okay, he's 12. i get it. it's age appropriate and he isn't moving out anytime soon. so again, to some it might seem a bit much to be boohooing over now. but it isn't a bit much to me. i'm his mama. how could anything ever be a 'bit much?'

and before i know it, this ride is done. and i have to be supportive and happy about the next ride. and did i mention that i don't like it? one little bit? and no, i don't want to tie him to my apron, but i also don't want him to start wanting to do other things. you know, away from us. his own things with other people. and eventually, just 'away.'

i don't know if it's because being his mama is what i 'do.' the stay at home, home schooling part. in essence, raising him is also my 'job.' hmmm, could have planned that one better, huh?

oh crap. now, i'm no expert, but i'm almost certain there's a therapy session, or two, in there somewhere.

but really i think it goes beyond that. because for 12 years he's been here. i mean physically *here.* in reach. for a hug or a snuggle or to just hang out. and there is a part of me that thinks that as this phase ends and another begins that perhaps i took a lot of it for granted. did i do enough? did i cherish it enough?

oh jeeze, that'll tack on another session right there. and i'm almost certain once i start there isn't enough money in the world to see me through therapy.

because as my children move from one phase to the next, i'm always wondering if this is the age where i drop the ball. that i finally lose my shit and can't handle it. nobody teaches you how to be a parent, and as much as there are books and 'experts' and well intentioned advice thrown your way, parenting is often you on your own little ice floe just waiting to either be rescued or eaten by the polar bear. do polar bears even eat people? see! i don't even know THAT! how am i qualified to be a parent!

ah, and the 'Either, or' sentence gets put into play. hmmm, what if those are both whack choices? non-choices? am i screwing my own self with fucked up logic?

jesus. i need to get out more. i suppose i could start with the therapy. or just simple interaction with other adults. drinking. a drink sounds good right about now.

anyhow, the long and the short of it is that i really like the duke. i think he's truly a neat kid. he makes me crazy and he makes me laugh. and i want him around. and i'm sad that as he does his normal human development thing that that may not always happen. and eventually, will not always happen.

and i know i'm supposed to appreciate the time i have and all that. but i will tell you what, my heart is sticky. and if it attaches it's all i can do to just not miss the hell out of people. jesus if i'm still writing about the college boyfriend i loved who dumped me almost 20 years ago (fucker) then we all know i have a problem. or two.

so my own child? yeah.

and again, i know this is all premature, because as i speak he's on the floor bopping along to whatever is in his headphones, constructing something or other out of legos. speaking in the eastern european/columbian accent he's perfected. thinking about what soda to choose for family movie night tonight, if he'll play all game again tomorrow in soccer, if this new friend zach might become a really good friend. good enough to have over to start his D&D club. he's just the duke. not some boy on the edge of breaking his mother's heart just by doing exactly what he's supposed to do.

god how do any of us ever survive.

i know it's going to be worth it in the end. separating healthily, me putting my big girl panties on and being the parent. letting him go with support and a smile. letting him know this is 'okay.' him becoming his own person. even while my heart is cracking just a bit inside. and there's parenting in a nutshell. i should make bumper stickers.

but this is what we want as parents, right? to be able to cast them gently out? right? this is normal. necessary.

yeah.

oh god. and i haven't even covered 'dating' in my little bubble of tears and what ifs, etc. etc. etc.!

jesus. screw therapy. what does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?

and red skinny jeans? really?

x.

she blinded me with logic.

in Logic recently i've been instructing the duke on the 'Either, or' sentence. and in Logic you get sentences that say things like, 'Either you have three arms, or you don't have three arms.' and 'Either all the animals in the world are giraffes, or all the animals in the world are elephants.' you know, fun stuff like that. and you have to decide whether, based on the 'choices' given, the sentences are true or false.

the thing about Logic is that it is, well, logical. free from emotion and personal interest. it is what it is. which i find refreshing. oh, sure, i enjoy the conversations the duke and i, and wingman and i for that matter, have stemming from what he may be learning in history, okay WE because i never learned it the first time around, or a book we're reading together. but there is something freeing in the concrete. for just seeing something for what it is, free of true interpretation.

so, that being said, teaching a near teenager Logic, which i once feared, has turned out to be brilliant beyond belief. because yes, while he is finally getting the tools to see the flaws in *my* arguments to him, he also has the tools to properly argue. which means if he's being irrational and not properly arguing his point, i can point out why and he understands. he may not like it, but he understands.

it's nearly genius. i say nearly because he's smarter than me. he just doesn't realize it yet. and when he does, well...

but what i like most about Logic brings me back to the 'Either, or' sentence.

now, there are lots of ways to use this sentence. like the mother may say to the toddler, 'you can either have grapes or you can have raisins.' which is less a logic question and more a choice. and yeah i see that it's not presented in the classic 'Either, or' pattern. and yes, grapes can be a choking hazard for toddlers and raisins stick on teeth and cause cavities. okay, so i suppose this whole analogy is shit. BUT you get the idea.

so, there's choice.

and then there's the *idea* of choice. and this is where the 'Either, or' sentence gets tricky. and sometimes mean. often, mean.

now this one is from the cesspool of parenting tools, 'Either you stop crying, or I'm going to give you something to cry about.' really? i'd like to meet the bastard that came up with this one.

or from FOX news and its ilk, 'Either you're with us, or you're against us.' one of my personal favorites.

or from a date/boyfriend/girlfriend/friend with benefits/spouse, 'Either you do *this*, or I'll do *that.*' crossed arms, bitchy face, wash. rinse. repeat.

now. none of these are 'choices.' sure okay yeah, they are *technically* because they are being *offered.* but if you're employing logic they are not.

stop crying. how is that a choice? it's a command. and the whole i'll give you something to cry about? who chooses this?! ever!

either you're with us or against us. this is just crap. because so often politics are NOT black and white and yet the most strident of political players want us to believe they are and choose from two non-choices. they CREATE the dividing line exclusively *by not offering any choice.* i don't want to be with you, and yet i am not *totally* against you. (okay, yeah, mostly...but still!) how is that a choice?

and the whole intimate partner ultimatum. how is this EVER a choice? it's not. it's manipulation by one person over the other. if you do not do what *I* want you to do then you will suffer. so it's 'Either this, or that.' and NEITHER *this* NOR *that* is an actual freakin' *choice. * okay, rarely.

it's usually 'Either you put your balls in this vice grip, or you string them from that flag pole.' or, you know, something to that effect. (you can insert your own gender specific metaphor)

just because somebody presents something like it's a choice doesn't mean that it is one. not by a long shot. and it's your job to figure it out.

so when, for instance, the sentence in the Logic book says 'Either you have three arms, or you don't,' you have to ask yourself if you are being given actual choices to consider. and yes, you are. you either have three arms or you don't. so the sentence is T for true. and so i mark it T. it is true that either i have three arms or i don't.

but when the sentence in the Logic book says 'Either all the animals in the world are giraffes, or all the animals in the world are elephants,' it's obvious, after you ask yourself of course, that you are NOT being given a choice. there is NO way all the animals in the world could be one or the other. and yet it's being presented to you as if you ARE being given an actual choice. and so the answer is F.

so using these examples, i gave the duke another lesson. and the lesson was as follows;

if someone is trying to manipulate, bully, guilt, or ultimatum you into choosing one thing over another when neither are proper choices then you should refuse. don't buy into it. further, if they keep pressing and won't let it go, you should say the following, 'what you are saying is completely illogical. either you give me two proper choices, or you can...'

and then i gave the duke some very choice phrases to choose from. ACTUAL choices. some of which may or may not have been instructions on activities the other person could perform on themselves. but i can't share them with you here because they are trade secrets.

the bottom line is while foul language and vulgarity (two things i LOVE) in general are discouraged here at the big red house, there is a time and a place. and one should always have an arsenal of choice phrases at the ready should the need arise. and i say adolescence definitely presents those opportunities for the need arising.

and then at the very end of the lesson i did have one more lesson for the duke;

if your mother is royally pissed to the point that she offers you two completely illogical NON-choices to choose from, it would be in your best interest to be smart and just choose one and don't. say. a. word. above all, whatever you do, DO NOT try to employ logic in that situation. ever.

motherhood does come with its perks.

and hey, in my defense, *i* never took logic.

x.

in the (vegan) kitchen with sillymortalmama.

okay, before we get started today i have to say that out of everything i make for family and friends, these next two recipes are ones that i get the most compliments on and the most requests for.

and they are both vegan. added bonus and go figure.

plus, coincidentally, they both throw off a little heat. not too much, just enough. and that's the trick and the art of vegan cooking. without all that blasted meat getting in the way, literally and morally in some cases, you really have a chance to highlight individual flavors and make them shine. or combine a lot of flavors for a symphony of taste. okay, that was a dippy metaphor but you get my drift.

and as another coincidence, this post will fulfill TWO promises of recipes i made and haven't yet delivered on. one that is only a week or so old. the other is, um, over two years old. and if you think that's bad just don't ever ask me to send you anything through the mail. or hold your breath if i tell you i am going to send you something. or expect to see it arrive at all. ever.

so this salad recipe, i know, salad? but bear with me. this is so good, so amazing, the flavors so fresh and wonderful, you really could start eating this and not stop. i've seen it happen. plus, it is an entire meal in and of itself which makes it doubly wonderful. and if that wasn't enough, just to gild the lily, this salad is sooooo beautiful. it is just gorgeous. like a veggie noodle jewel in the bowl. which makes it perfect for entertaining at barbecues, potlucks, or dinner at home sitting at the big picnic table in the yard. even more perfect is that you can make both the salad and the dressing ahead of time. and because there is a LOT of chopping, it's better if you do. just bag the chopped and sliced salad ingredients separately and combine when you're ready to serve. don't leave chopped/sliced veggies more than a day, though. and beware, the recipe makes a TON! but as you will soon see, you can tweak the amounts to suit your needs. or make it as is and eat the whole damn thing yourself.


Asian Noodle Salad (from Confessions of a Pioneer Woman.com that she adapted from Jamie Oliver)

Salad
1 package linguine noodles, cooked, rinsed, and cooled*
1/2 to 1 head sliced Napa cabbage
1/2 to 1 head sliced purple cabbage
1/2 to 1 bag baby spinach
1 red bell pepper, sliced thin
1 yellow bell pepper, sliced thin
1 orange bell pepper, sliced thin
1 small bag mung bean sprouts
3 sliced scallions
3 peeled, sliced cucumbers**
LOTS of chopped cilantro, up to one whole bunch
1 can whole cashews, lightly toasted in skillet***

Dressing
juice of 1 lime
8 TBS olive oil
2 TBS sesame oil
6 TBS soy sauce
1/3 cup brown sugar
3 TBS fresh ginger, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 hot peppers or jalapenos, chopped
more cilantro-LOTS****

mix together all the salad ingredients. (it works best to use your hands to do the mixing. but don't let your guests see you doing this. they think it's gross.)

whisk together dressing ingredients and pour over salad. mix and serve on a platter. (i always make the dressing ahead of time. like a day or so. the flavors are so much better when they've had a chance to mingle. the dressing will keep up to three days in the fridge before serving, WITHOUT the cilantro. add that to the dressing right before serving)

cook's notes:
*i toss the drained linguine with olive oil. makes it MUCH easier to work with.
**i never use cucumbers. i love them, i just forgot them the first time and the salad seemed so jam packed already. but i bet they'd be good.
***i buy cashews in bulk. be sure to get the toasted and salted ones. and even though they are already toasted, don't skip on heating them up in the skillet. it really brings out another level of flavor. i don't know how much a can holds, but i end up using about a cup or so. sometimes i break them up, sometimes i don't. the recipe doesn't say to, but i mix the salad and the dressing together first and then sprinkle the cashews on top.
****i LOVE the cilantro in the salad, but i never use it in the dressing. mainly because i make it ahead and then i forget to add it at the end. but you do what you want with your cilantro. have at it. if you can remember to.


now, this next recipe could make someone fall in love with you. i've never actually seen it happen, but i sense that it possesses the power to do so. if anyone wants to test that theory and get back to me then please do so. this recipe is less a recipe and more pure alchemy. i know chocolate mixed with spice is not a new idea, but every time i have a slice of this cake (and i don't care for cake but like the other chocolate cake i always have some of this) it feels like the first time i discovered that chocolate and spice mixed together is pure genius. and pure bliss. plus, it's vegan!

oh, god i have to say, the vegans i have made this for just go crazy for it. no marriage proposals or declarations of undying love crazy, but there is that gleam in their collective eye and a moment or two fraught with intense pleasure that threatens to spill over onto the baker. or, they just really like it and i'm imagining the whole thing because i need more excitement in my life. really could go either way.

i have to say i have no idea where i got this it's been so long. and i really wish i could show you the actual paper the recipe is written down on because it's fabulous. wrinkled and fading with a gob of dried batter on the top and some other gob of something dried on the bottom. i can barely read it. and i really should recopy it. but where's the fun in that?

Mexican Chocolate Cake

Cake
1 1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cayenne
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup cold water
1/4 cup canola oil
1 TBS balsamic vinegar*
1 TBS vanilla extract

Glaze
1 cup confectioners sugar
1/2 cup sweetened cocoa powder
6 TBS water

preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

lightly coat an 8 inch springform pan with vegetable oil.

combine all. (okay, that's what i wrote down originally but let's tweak this a bit shall we? combine the dry ingredients first, then mix in the wet. okay. that's better.)

bake 25-30 minutes until toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. (again, that's what is written down, but i find sometimes it can take longer than this.)

cool 10 minutes in pan, then completely on cooling rack.

to make the glaze whisk the sugar and the cocoa together, then add the water in one tablespoon at a time. (i find that sometimes i need less water, just add until it's the consistency you like.)

pour the glaze over the cooled cake on the rack and move to serving plate or stand. (okay, that's what is written, but it's harder than it sounds!!! first of all, the glaze is gonna drip down so make sure there's something underneath the rack. plus, moving an already glazed cake is tricky business. sometimes i do it on the rack and move it with one of those big dough spatulas, and sometimes i do it on the plate and catch the excess by putting strips of parchment under and along the bottom of the cake. glaze and then pull the parchment strips out and your plate is clean. mostly.)

cook's notes:
*this is the 'secret' ingredient. meaning this is what's in there that makes everything sing and that no one can ever put their finger on or guess. drives people crazy. especially when i won't tell them what it is when they ask.

enjoy!

x.

in the kitchen with sillymortalmama.

after my Gourmet post a friend asked what my "favorite recipe so far" was. and you know, i really can't answer that. there are just too many to choose from. literally too many.

and if we're just keeping it to the magazine, every month in Gourmet there are also too many good recipes to choose from. and they have a pretty crack staff so they are generally foolproof. i've kept all my issues (whatever, reserve your judgment. we all have our 'issues.' no pun intended. keeping magazines is mine) and OFTEN refer back to them. i suppose my absolute all time favorite from Gourmet is actually one sent in from a reader. a red lentil soup that is so simple to make and so delicious. i make it all the time. i wish i could say it was something more exciting, but sometimes there really is nothing better in the world than something warm and good in a bowl.

since i can't really come up with ONE favorite, i thought i would share two recipes that i make ALL the time. for company or just for us. they are foolproof and they are delicious.

and as an added bonus, and so there isn't any room available for fussing, one just happens to be vegan.

and as an added *added* bonus i am also going to throw in two chocolate cake recipes that i make ALL the time. for company or just for us. (mostly for company, though) they are also foolproof and they are also delicious.

and one of them just happens to be vegan! i know. you're welcome.

and if you don't like chocolate then you're just out of luck. i can only please so many people. and frankly, pleasing a vegan is no small task.

so today's recipes are for the omnivores. tomorrow's recipes are for the omnivores, the vegans, the vegetarians, and the veggie adjacent.

one note about the recipes, they are both from cookbooks and more or less are copied here just as they are written there. BUT since i have made both of these so many times i have changed wording here and there for flow or clarification. anything in parenthesis is purely mine.

okay, so this first dish is absolutely flawless. it's perfect, actually. and i don't use that word lightly, or, really ever. except i will in this post. and more than once. and it really is that good. it is full of flavor, sumptuous, and just about as sexy as a chicken dish can be. PLUS, and this is huge, this can be made from start to finish the day before, stored in the fridge overnight, and gently reheated the next day. and it tastes even better doing it that way! so it's perfect for entertaining! i'm getting all excited just thinking about it!


Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic (adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot in Paris)
serves 6

3 whole heads garlic, about 40 cloves
2 (3 1/2 pound) chickens cut into eighths*
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 TBS butter
2 TBS olive oil
3 TBS Cognac, divided**
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1 TBS fresh thyme leaves
2 TBS all purpose flour
2 TBS heavy cream

separate cloves of garlic, leave peels on, and drop them into a pot of boiling water for 60 seconds. drain the garlic and peel. set aside.

dry the chicken with paper towels. season liberally with salt and pepper on both sides. heat the butter and oil in a large pot or dutch oven on medium-high. in batches, cook the chicken in the butter/oil, skin side down first, until nicely browned, about 3 to 5 minutes on each side. turn with tongs or spatula so you don't pierce the skin. if the butter/oil is burning, turn down to medium. when a batch is done, transfer it to a plate and continue to cook all the chicken in batches.

remove the last chicken piece to the plate and add all of the garlic to the pot. lower the heat and saute for 5 to 10 minutes, turning often, until evenly browned.

add 2 TBS of the Cognac and all of the wine, return to a boil, and scrape the brown bits from the bottom of the pan (that's flavor, don't miss this step!)

return the chicken to the pot with all the juices from the plate and sprinkle with the thyme leaves. cover and simmer over the lowest heat you can keep it simmering at for about 30 minutes until all the chicken is done. (the recipe doesn't call for this but at @ 15 minutes in, i always swap the chicken on the bottom layer with the chicken on the top for more even cooking)

remove the chicken to a platter and cover with foil to keep warm.

in a small bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup of the sauce (from the pot) and the flour and then whisk that back into the sauce in the pot.

raise the heat, add the remaining tablespoon of Cognac and the cream and boil for 3 minutes. add salt and pepper to taste; it should be very flavorful because chicken tends to be bland.

pour the sauce with the garlic over the chicken on the platter and serve hot.

to prepare ahead, refrigerate the chicken with the sauce and reheat over low heat before serving.

cook's notes:
*i use 8 thighs and 8 legs. tastes better and cooks more evenly.
**i've used brandy, vodka, and vermouth before when i haven't had cognac on hand.


this next recipe is a cake i make every single st. patrick's day. it not only uses guinness in the recipe, but when all is said and done, the cake is black and the frosting is white and only on the top and so it LOOKS like a pint of guinness, too! so while it is an understandable st. patrick's day staple, it is also good for a birthday or a dinner party or really any occasion. it is quite a perfect chocolate cake. i don't care for cake, but i always have some of this one because i love to marvel at the perfection. it is moist and dense and tastes good with or without the frosting. i vote for the frosting, though, because the texture of the cake balances so beautifully with the sweetness of the frosting. and if all of that wasn't enough, it's easy to make and easy to frost with no fussiness required. perfect.

Chocolate Guinness Cake (adapted from Nigella Lawson's Feast)

Cake
1 cup Guinness
1 stick plus 2 TBS unsalted butter*
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 cups superfine sugar**
3/4 cup sour cream
2 eggs
1 TBS pure vanilla extract
2 cups all purpose flour
2 1/2 tsp baking soda

Frosting
8 oz Philadelphia cream cheese***
1 1/4 cups confectioners sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream

preheat the oven to 350 degrees

butter and line a 9 inch springform pan

pour the Guinness into a large wide saucepan, add the butter in spoons or slices, and heat until the butter's melted. whisk in the cocoa and sugar.

in a bowl, beat the sour cream with the eggs and vanilla and then pour into the pot with the beer mixture. then whisk in the flour and baking soda. (it's gonna look weird. like the eggs are cooking. i know, trust me though. it will work out)

pour the cake batter into the greased and lined pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. cool completely IN the pan ON a cooling rack. this is important because it's a very damp cake.

to make the frosting;

lightly whip the cream cheese until smooth, sift the confectioners sugar over the top, then beat them together. add the cream and beat again until spreading consistency.

place the completely cooled cake on a plate or stand and ice JUST the top of the black cake with the white frosting so that it resembles the frothy top of the famous pint.

cook's notes:
*i've baked with both salted and unsalted butter most of my life. including this cake. and while there are lots of schools of thoughts on the difference, i basically use what's on hand and don't give it a moment's thought.
**i keep superfine or baker's sugar on hand for baking. but you can blitz regular sugar in a blender to make it superfine, too.
***philly is the best brand for baking. but use any brand you like. just DO NOT go low fat or light. and if you do, just don't tell me about it.

bon appetit! (which they should have folded of instead of Gourmet, but whatever)

x.