family – Page 9

Christmas French Toast Casserole

For Christmas this year, I decided to make things a little easier on myself as far as breakfast was concerned. I guess with any meal, we could make things easier just with some extra planning (it goes for weekly meal planning and sticking to a budget when grocery shopping and a whole buttload of other food stuff that I’m only successful at half the time). So, after spending far too much time preparing our morning feast last year, my thoughts immediately went to french toast — casserole, that is.

Now, I’m not usually a big fan of casseroles, but the ability to make it in advance and pop it into the oven as needed had me at “hello.”

Here’s the meal plan:

The day before (I did the first three earlier before our Christmas Eve get-together, then the last before bed) —
– Cut loaf of French bread into 1″ squares
– Thaw bacon
– Dice/cube (depending on how big you like them) sweet potatoes for hash browns
– Assemble rest of casserole and allow to sit overnight in fridge

The day of —
– Turn on the oven and take out the casserole to sit for 30 minutes — Open stockings 🙂
– After stockings, throw the casserole in and start the hash browns in a frying pan with olive oil, salt, and pepper, over medium-low — this should avoid any burning, and using a lid allows the insides of the potatoes to cook. If you like more brown, start higher and allow them to get some color before turning down.
– After opening the rest of your goodies, check on the casserole, stir the hash browns and cook any sausage/bacon.

If you like coffee, get that started first thing. We did tea, though, which doesn’t take long at all.

The only way that I swayed from the meal plan was thanks to the fact that my boys slept in. So, here I was…up…not doing anything…so, I started the meat and sweet potatoes earlier than I probably should have and kept them at low before serving.

The french toast casserole recipe that I used came from Taste of Home, but while I decided to throw in some extra cinnamon and some nutmeg, it made the top appear burned (but it wasn’t). So, if I make it again, I’ll do a sugar topping (maybe with a little cinnamon mixed in) but probably put most of the seasoning in the egg mixture. Regardless, here’s the recipe, in case anyone wants to try it:

French Toast Casserole

1 loaf french bread, cut into 1″ cubes
8 eggs
3 cups milk (I used whole; you could use half and half, but I wouldn’t do skim or 1%)
4 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
3/4 teaspoon salt
a few sprinkles of cinnamon (or you can mix more directly into the casserole)

Topping:
2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

Place bread cubes in a greased 13-in. x 9-in. baking dish. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla and salt. Pour over bread. Cover and refrigerate for 8 hours or overnight.
Remove from refrigerator 30 minutes before baking. Dot with butter. Combine sugar and cinnamon; sprinkle over the top.
Cover and bake at 350° for 45-50 minutes or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Let stand for 5 minutes. Serve with maple syrup if desired. Yield: 12 servings.

So, what do you do for holiday mornings? (You know — those days when things are crazy enough without having to figure out a way to sustain the family until that late afternoon meal.) Casseroles? Do you eat breakfast? Brunch? Do tell! It’d be great to hear how other folks juggle the holiday craziness.

On that note, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! It seems to have come and gone so quickly!

Wordless Wednesday – Merry Christmas!

As we joyfully tear open the goodies that Santa has so kindly left for us (and hoping beyond hope that I haven’t passed along the stomach bug to my boys), I thought I’d share a few more pictures from our recent trip to the Cooperstown Farmers’ Museum for their Candlelight Evening.

Thanks so much for reading. It warms my heart to know that even one person (beyond myself) gets any enjoyment out of this quirky little place. Oh, and if you’re bored as things die down this Christmas, have a listen to the Ilion Little Theater’s podcast version of “A Christmas Carol”.

Merry Christmas, friends!

Here We Come A-Wassailing

Almost every year, we haul our heinies out to Cooperstown to the Candlelight Evening the Farmers’ Museum puts on (we skipped last year since the bambino was, like, crazy little…I use “little” loosely). The Farmers’ Museum is seriously one of my favorite places ON EARTH. It’s a living history site where houses and buildings from the mid-19th century have been transplanted to create a small village-like atmosphere.

There’s a building with an exhibit, but the rest is like a step back in time. The print shop creates mailers and flyers for events; the blacksmith makes shoes for the horses (it is the Farmers’ Museum, after all), old flat, square-headed nails, and products for the store; the “house” has a front AND back garden (GAH! LOVE IT!) and, depending on the time of year, shows how folks were putting things up or weaving and dying their own clothes or baking up a storm; the broom-maker (I’m sure that’s not the real name) shows how they were made; the “hotel” (which has an awesome balcony) is opened serving food and showing just how different it was to stay in an inn back then…and so on. I wish I could live there.

So, this year, we literally braved a brutal storm to have a family visit. There was only one goal for the day — to see Santa. The REAL Santa. We actually know the fellow who portrays him, so the fact that he says “hello!” to us by name is beyond cool. He dresses more like St. Nick, with short pants (freeeezing!), a real beard, a long hat, and a big sack flung over his shoulder.

But, thanks to the storm (we’re freaking crazy — we always plan for the coldest possible weather — I wore 2 pairs of pants, wool socks, 3+ shirts, a hat, two pairs of gloves…still cold), there were hardly any lines. So, that being said, we got to have our first ride on a horse-pulled wagon (where Hadley viewed Santa, or “Ho Ho”, from a mile away), chat up the printer on our own (I have a secret: This is the warmest spot in the place, thanks to their TWO stoves. I learned it on my 4th grade field trip, when I was assigned to the print shop and got to create my own “business cards” and “greeting cards”. You’re welcome.), and down some wassail.

We caught up with Santa before he started his story time at the school building, and Hadley was enamored with him. Oh, he also handed over an old-fashioned (albeit red dye-laden) chunky peppermint stick which he sucked on for a half hour. (I grabbed chunks out of his mouth and ate them so he didn’t choke. He still doesn’t have enough top teeth to help in this respect.)

Then, we finally headed indoors to hear some more caroling and buy two HUGE turkey dinners (which came with cocoa and HUGE pieces of gingerbread, which Hadley enjoyed) before trekking back home at half the speed in low visibility. But, we don’t care. It. Was. So. Worth. It.

So, if you’d like to experience some of the old fashioned Christmas, try some mulled cider. Wassail. Whatever you call it, it’s a lovely way to cozy up on a chilly winter’s night. And what makes it even better? It’s super simple to make. You don’t even need cauldrons over huge bonfires (which is how they do it at the museum).

Here’s another one of my “wing it” recipes, but it’s only because you really can’t mess it up. Want to sweeten it? Use maple syrup or sugar or whatever you like to use to sweeten stuff. Or don’t; it’s still delicious!) Don’t have cloves? That’s okay, leave it out this time (although use it when you have it on hand again…I respectfully advise. ;-)).

WASSAIL

2 1/2 cups apple cider
1/4 – 1/2 c. orange juice
1 -2 tbsp. maple syrup or sugar (or not)
1 tsp. (or less) cinnamon; or 2-3 cinnamon sticks
1/2 tsp. (or less) nutmeg
1/4 tsp. (or less) clove

Bring all the ingredients to a boil on the stove and stir; reduce heat to low and allow to simmer for as long as you can wait. (Five minutes…ten…or thirty. Whatever floats your boat.) If you don’t like “things” in your beverages, strain into mug and enjoy. Serve with a cinnamon stick if you’re a fancypants.

* Grown-ups who REALLY need a warm-up, throw a shot or two of rum in and say “good night.” Or, at least, that’s what would happen to me. I really can’t hold my booze anymore.

C is for Cookie, That’s Good Enough for Me

Is it not the strangest thing in the world that the characters that we grew up with so many decades ago are still cherished by the youth of today? There must be something innately appealing to little ones. The fur? The colors? The voices? Hadley is enamored with Sesame Street characters (he watches the old episodes as well as the new ones, although we try to skip over that Abby Cadabby crap) as well as Mickey (I’m 50/50 on this one — I love that he enjoys “A Mickey Christmas Carol” from beginning to end, but I don’t want him to be surrounded with Disney paraphernalia or to feel the need to visit the “most wonderful(ly overpriced) place on Earth”). Along with his dozen or so words, he has gestures for each of his favorite Sesame Street characters — “bam bam bam” (arm with fist pounding) for Oscar and “nom nom nom” (open hand to mouth repeatedly) for his favorite, Cookie Monster.

So, while I made Christmas cookies last year, this is the first year that OUR little Cookie Monster can actually partake in the treats. I try to keep my versions “real food” friendly — using butter instead of Crisco, organic raw sugar rather than white, unbleached organic AP flour rather than the regular bleached (I didn’t do whole wheat because I wanted to try to keep the consistency relatively similar, but you could do half-and-half or even all whole wheat if you don’t mind a texture switcheroo), and so forth. Honestly, most of what’s in these is organic and GMO-free, which is our priority right now.

Oh, and fun fact time: I only make cookies my husband will WANT to eat. Sure, he’ll eat my favorites (anything with peanut butter), but he doesn’t necessarily WANT to, which means he ends up “forgetting” they’re sitting in our cookie container until they go stale or I eat them all (whichever happens first…ahem). So, I ask Dave what his favorites are, fully realizing that my mom or sis or someone equally lovely will provide me with a couple of peanut blossoms or chocolate-covered peanut butter balls at some point this holiday season…and I sleep soundly knowing that my hubby and son will eat the crap out of whatever I have made. It’s all good. Maybe one day (when he’s able to eat nuts; we’re not testing his allergy levels to nuts quite yet!) I’ll have a house full of kids that will override Dave’s aversion to “super peanut buttery” things. That’ll be the day!

I made these cookies in less than an hour each on two different nights, after Hadman had gone to bed. First was the jam thumbprints.

Now, back in the day, I used to make these with Ina Garten’s recipe (my mom LOVED them when I made them — isn’t that the greatest feeling, to make something for the person who made everything for YOU and to have them enjoy it that much?), which was so full of butter I can’t even stand it (yum!). But, I didn’t use that recipe because a) they made a million cookies (we don’t need a million) and b) they were covered in coconut. My husband’s a basic guy, so I made the equivalent of shortbread cookies…with a thumb smashed in…with some wayward jam poured in for good measure.

Here’s the recipe I used (from Love and Olive Oil – LOVE this site!) —

Jam-Filled Thumbprint Cookies

Yield: 40 cookies
Cook Time: 20 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour

Ingredients:

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 ounces (or so) assorted jam

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat.
Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Beat in egg yolks and vanilla extract. Add flour and salt and mix until incorporated and dough comes together in a ball.
Form dough into 1-inch balls and arrange on prepared baking sheet. Flatten balls slightly with your thumb or the back of a small spoon, leaving an indentation in the center.
Bake cookies for 8 to 10 minutes or until bottoms are just barely golden. Remove baking sheet from oven. If indentations look shallow, further define them with the back of a spoon and then fill each with approximately 1/2 teaspoon jam. Bake for an additional 3 to 4 minutes, or until jam melts slightly and edges of cookies are lightly golden. Transfer cookies to wire racks to cool.

Jam-Filled Thumbprint Cookies

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large egg yolks
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
6 oz. (or so) assorted jam (I used a test pot of “razzleberry” jam, some apple butter {Delish! And super sweet}, and some strawberry/blueberry/rhubarb jam)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper (not waxed) or a silicon liner (I used parchment on one but ran out and used butter on the other; they both came out fine).

Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer on medium high until light and fluffy, 2-3 minutes. Beat in egg yolks and vanilla. Add flour and salt and mix until incorporated and dough comes together in a ball.

Form 1-inch balls and arrange on baking trays (they won’t expand much at all). Press slightly with your thumb or the back of a teaspoon to form an indentation for the jam.

Bake for 8-10 minutes until bottoms are barely golden. Remove from oven. If indentations look shallow, press a bit more. Place approx. 1/2 tsp. of jam or jelly in each indentation before placing back in the oven for 3-4 minutes (until lightly golden). Transfer cookies to cool on a rack.

Jam-Filled Thumbprint Cookies

Yield: 40 cookies
Cook Time: 20 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour

Ingredients:

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 ounces (or so) assorted jam

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat.
Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Beat in egg yolks and vanilla extract. Add flour and salt and mix until incorporated and dough comes together in a ball.
Form dough into 1-inch balls and arrange on prepared baking sheet. Flatten balls slightly with your thumb or the back of a small spoon, leaving an indentation in the center.
Bake cookies for 8 to 10 minutes or until bottoms are just barely golden. Remove baking sheet from oven. If indentations look shallow, further define them with the back of a spoon and then fill each with approximately 1/2 teaspoon jam. Bake for an additional 3 to 4 minutes, or until jam melts slightly and edges of cookies are lightly golden. Transfer cookies to wire racks to cool.

The other cookie that Dave requested, which I also made last year, was Chocolate Crinkles (although he just called them “the chocolate ones that get wrinkles all over with white sugar all over them”). It took awhile to find one that just used cocoa powder (homey don’t got time for meltin’ chocolate), and all I had was some leftover Hershey stuff (and while it’s not organic, it’s natural, non-alkalized, etc so it’s pretty good), but my powdered sugar was organic from our trip to Vermont and they came out just right — puffy and “wrinkly” and tasty.

For this recipe, I turned to Williams-Sonoma. Wait, what?! Yep. I scoured the Internet (okay, the first page of the Google search) and it hit all the marks: 1) used cocoa powder vs. melted chocolate (or a combo of both) and 2) only made a couple dozen cookies (again, we don’t need a million hanging around that won’t get eaten and will turn stale). And, for future reference (to myself…hi, future self!), it’s from a kid-friendly cookbook…so, yeah, Hadley can help someday.

Chocolate Crinkle Cookies

1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (reviews suggest between this and 3/4+; use what you like)
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/4 cups sugar
2 eggs1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

(Love that the recipe said this: “Be sure an adult is nearby to help.” I asked my husband to stand by. ;-))

Preheat an oven to 350°F. Grease 2 baking sheets with butter.

Put the confectioners’ sugar into a bowl and set aside. (I didn’t use half of this amount, so feel free to start with half and use more as needed.)

In another bowl, using a wooden spoon, stir together the flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed until creamy, about 3 minutes. Turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl with a rubber spatula. Add 1 egg and beat on medium speed until blended. Add the other egg and vanilla and beat until blended. Turn off the mixer and add the flour mixture. Beat on low speed just until blended.

Using a tablespoon, scoop up a rounded spoonful of dough. Scrape the dough off the spoon into the palm of your other hand. Roll the dough into a ball. Roll the ball in the confectioners’ sugar until covered. Place the balls on a prepared baking sheet. Repeat, spacing the balls about 2 inches apart.

When 1 baking sheet is full, put it in the oven and bake the cookies until they are crackled and puffed, 10 to 12 minutes. Using oven mitts, remove the baking sheet from the oven and set it on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Using a metal spatula, move the cookies onto the rack and let cool completely. Repeat with the rest of the cookies. Makes about 24 cookies.

Adapted from Williams-Sonoma Kids Baking, by Abigail Johnson Dodge (Oxmoor House, 2003).

I’m thinking of throwing together a molasses or ginger-type cookie since it’s another kind that I DIE for — maybe my grandmother’s recipe (though I’m not sure if I have the right “kind” of molasses for that; seriously, they can end up taking up the whole pan if you’re not careful, and I’m not aiming for molasses bars) or something like that. I also do cutouts, which we’ll probably attempt as more of a hands-on family thing if Hadley actually wants to “make shapes.” If not, I’ll still make them and hopefully get a good, soft texture (vs. crunchy…you know the kind) so he can at least eat them afterwards. And, a nice, fluffy white frosting sounds perfect — no dyes necessary. If I don’t make these, though, it’s fine — at least I made SOMETHING. But, if I do make something, I’ll be sure to share the recipes.

What about you? What cookies are you making this Christmas? Or if you’re not baking any, are there any kinds that you’re looking forward to eating? I’m always fascinated to hear what kinds of cookies folks consider a “Christmas cookie.” Some are traditional (like Polish Kruschiki or regelach – which I always thought was Italian, but the interwebs informs me is Yiddish – both of which I enjoyed as a child) while others make me go “huh?” (um…chocolate chip cookies? Really?) Do tell!

Traditions

We try not to cling too tightly to traditions. We realize that, as Hadley gets older and as we (hopefully) add to the family, it’s best to stay flexible and avoid the disappointment when we’re not able to celebrate something the exact same way every year. Besides, it cuts down on the stress.

However, it’s important to have SOME. A few, maybe. Okay, so we may not always go to one of our parents’ houses for Thanksgiving (I WILL cook one for more than just our little triad someday; I’m frickin’ Martha Stewart, let me show it!) and the running around of Christmas eve and the big day will simplify one day, but for now, we have a few traditions that fill our hearts with love and cheer year after year.

– Christmas movies. It doesn’t matter whether we see all of them or not, as long as we see a handful. The Grinch (the original). Charlie Brown (the original). Rudolph (the original…see a trend?). The Bishop’s Wife, It’s a Wonderful Life, Frosty…they all work. And once in awhile, we add a new-old favorite, like how Dave “found” (I won’t say “stole” since we all taped these specials off of TV when we were kids, right?) the Sesame Street Christmas special that we remembered watching the heck out of as kids. And, true to form, Hadley sat through it from beginning to end. So proud. Oh, and what is UP with this new “It’s a Wonderful Life” concept?!?!?! Not happy!

– “The Polar Express.” I love the movie, I love the Josh Groban song from it, I love the book. But, when Dave worked for a local news station, he and his meteorologist friend were asked to come read it (along with another holiday book) every year at our Barnes and Noble. It was one of the few things we thought, “Awww, they won’t want you back for the book-reading” after he left. But, luck had another thing in mind. He was recently tracked down to fill in last-minute and, of course, he said “yes” as quickly as he could. We’ve seen him go from anxious to cool-as-a-cucumber after many nights of practice reading with Hadman, to the point where he’s bringing along his second book in case Barnes and Noble doesn’t have it. The student has become the master. Oh, and last year Hadley made a splash greeting his minions…this year…well, he preferred socializing to sitting still. Such is the life of a toddler.

– The tree. I grew up with a fake tree. I don’t really mind one way or the other, but let’s just say that I would’ve had a fake one up before Thanksgiving weekend was over, and all other decorating would’ve been done. (Usually the tree kickstarts my motivation to decorate the rest of the place.) But, our new tradition involves a real one, so this year we picked one up recently as a family. Last year, Dave dragged one home from Lowe’s in the middle of the night, so it’s an improvement. Next year, we’ll probably attempt to cut one down as a family. Lord help us. (And I’m not religious.) But, regardless of how I try to decorate the rest of the place, the tree stays. You go. (Kidding. ;-)) Christmas isn’t Christmas without a tree.

– Cards. Whether we’re able to write a few lines or just “Best Wishes, the Delleceses” (man, that looks weird pluralized), there’s a reason we don’t cut this out or email folks faux cards. We’re traditionalists. Modern, but traditional. Hey, if Bing can find some time to write out a few cards (Irving Berlin, actually, but work with me here; Bing’s the man), can’t we? Damn straight, we can. We may pare it down a little each year to just the essential friends and family that we want to touch base with, but we still do it.
– Cookies, cookies, cookies. Even when I’m the only one eating them, I MUST make cookies! I still remember poor Dave wrangling Hadley while I attempted to make a couple kinds (including the time-intensive cutouts…at least, it was time intensive with a 5-month-old hanging around). This year, I’m demanding help from the little munchkin. Plus, he can help me eat them this year. And, yep, they’ll still be all-natural/organic/real food…but yummy and full of sugar. Besides, what else can we leave for the good ol’ Kris Kringle?

– Santa. Speaking of the big guy, sure, of course Santa visits us. He’s been coming since Beardslee first found us…wait, probably before that, even. Why would Santa stop coming? Psht. Craziness.

– BRRRRKFST!!!! (I know that’s not how it’s spelled, thanks; but that’s how I say “breakfast” when it’s decadent and super special – with excitement and zero vowels.) Now, I don’t mean that I’ll make the same thing every year, but know that there will be a delicious breakfast meat (usually it’s locally-raised bacon that is to DIE for, but I’ve recently fallen for Applegate’s chicken and apple sausage (although I realize that they also have chicken and maple…and chicken and SAGE?! Man, my Hannaford sucks), so we’ll see what we get. Maybe both. As for the rest, scroll down here to see what we had last year — eggs, a bagel, and so forth. But that’s kinda work-intensive for a morning feast, right? I grew up some years having this french toast casserole type of thing that Mom made the night before and popped into the oven to bake off while we opened presents, and I’m considering concocting something similar this year. And I’ll probably cut up some sweet potatoes (or plain potatoes) for some home fries, which are an absolute MUST. Nom nom.

– Um. Presents. Why do I type that wracked with guilt?? Probably because we wish we weren’t as consumer-driven as we are. And, y’know what? In all honesty…I’d be happy with a few very well thought-out gifts (which my husband is usually awesome at), and that’s it. Our joy really comes from mulling over our selections for those we love. We’ve got a couple of Grinches who tend to be pretty hard to buy for, but for the most part knowing that someone will get lots of use out of something means so much more than stacking my Kia to its roof with crap. That totally sounds ungrateful, but I suppose that’s how you become when people overbuy; it means far less and even puts a damper on things.

Pretty classic traditions, right? Maybe one day we’ll try Elf on the Shelf…or not. Maybe we’ll make ornaments…or not. Maybe we’ll get into making a nice holiday ham…or not. The cool thing about traditions is the memories they create, and the continuity they provide in your life. I don’t expect to keep all of our traditions, but as long as we keep a few and I have SOMETHING to look forward to, I’m good.

What traditions can you not do without? Anything wacky? Or pretty much traditional (ha, get it? Traditional traditions!)? I’d like to hear!

Reminiscent Smells

Thanks to some insanely gorgeous weather over the weekend, I got to paint our back deck. Unfortunately, I need to slap another coat on the floor boards and do the trellis (which will undoubtedly take another several hours) if weather permits, but that’s not what this post is about. 😉

While hunched over, rolling paint and letting my mind half wander, I was suddenly struck by a distinct odor. It wasn’t at all a bad smell, or a wonderful smell, but it was pleasant and warm and so darn familiar. And it had little to do with the paint.

I’ve always had a super sensitive nose (especially versus my average to below-average sight and hearing) and, as many do, I’ve always attached memories to the smells.

One of my first memories were of my dad’s beard. Sure, I remember how scruffy and downright painful it felt when he hugged me close with the stubble rubbing on my soft little face. Mostly, though, I recall his sweet-smelling Old Spice cologne — not too much, not too little — after a shave. Those memories are all I have of him anymore, and I cherish it. That being said, I HATE the smell of Old Spice now. It’s just too bitter a smell. (Not literally.)

I remember what our favorite dog, Brie, smelled like. When you stuffed your face in her super-soft black fur and fell into a nap. So fresh yet earthy, with dry flakes of white skin dotting the black. Then, the distinctly goopy smell that accompanied her in-need-of-a-cleaning ears. Ick. Poor thing.

But, the most important smells that I hold closest to my heart were those that wafted from my mom’s parents’ house. After Dad passed, we spent a hell of a lot of time there, whether as a family unit or one-on-one. It was like stepping back in time to a simpler place, where the structure of certain known rules and uncomplicated fun had a major calming effect.

The house itself gave forth scents that I’ve never again experienced anywhere else, excepting for those rare, brief “is there a ghost about?” moments. Grandpa’s basement workshop (and the room with the bar and pool table that we played on, under, and around) wreaked of dusty sweet sawdust and musty coolness. Grandma’s pantry hit you in the face with pungent spices far stronger than any at our house of some long-since-spilled herb or spice; maybe nutmeg? Clove? I always thought about it when we discussed the spice trade in Social Studies. I loved sticking my head in that cupboard.

Of course, there was also the ever-present smell of smoke, which somehow didn’t seem to overtake the house. Grandma was known for her unfiltered Camel addiction, which she gave up only after being permanently hospitalized after a heart operation. (She famously said that her doctor told her it would be BAD for her to quit. Scared, we tended to believe her.) Being both bulldog and nurturer, she would notoriously blow it in your direction when you started winning at gin rummy; I think she was hoping it would burn our eyes and lower our game. Tricks she undoubtedly learned in the Marines on Parris Island.

Grandpa went through his bouts with tobacco, as well. He had long since quit smoking (and quite easily, which I admired), but at times would sneak chewing tobacco (which he hid under the driver’s side seat of his car and told us “not to tell Grandma”) and, others, openly smoke a pipe. I so loved the bittersweet smell of a pipe that I smoked one for about a semester in college. Yes, seriously. It was the smell of the thing, and the memory soothed me.

Their breezeway, too, contained a distinct, nice smell which led to an earthy, wet garage and second work area for Grandpa. He built a kennel with a little pass-through (which we kids used as much as our beloved border collie, Bri…said “Br-EYE” ;-)) with an abrasively sweet-smelling, ever-present leaf pile — one of my all-time favorite smells.

I still recall vividly the imaginative games my sister and I would play in their massive backyard. We would collect pine cones and acorns, pretending that we lived in the wilderness, sitting on the soft bed of pine needles under perfectly-sized trees. That same timeless smell would get kicked about when we took “nature walks” with Grandpa behind our nearby elementary school (always so much more special to visit there with him than with any classmates or teacher). It was what I imagined it to be like when the “Indians” lived there, long before us, running amongst the birch. I’m not sure if the locals referred to that hill as “Mount Suribach” (a slightly altered reference to Mt. Suribachi, the Japanese hill the Marines famously took) or if it was just my grandfather’s nickname for it, but it was a glimpse into his past. It feels like we were born knowing about his involvement in the war, without actually knowing.

I could talk about the smells of the molasses cookies we helped to bake or the laundry detergent we helped to pour, but it all just leads down the same road. It was a home away from home that was harder to leave behind when it was sold just last year than our true childhood home (which was sold shortly after my graduation from high school, with all of its ghosts still haunting us and all the music we filled it with still ringing softly).

And that smell — the smell of THEM — hit me like a slap as I rolled and slathered that blue-gray paint into those wood crevices. My first thought, as with any time the smell finds me, is whether Grandpa is okay. There’s no point in worrying. We know that his time will come sooner rather than later (he’s doing okay in his assisted living facility, but the dementia is setting in and he’s by far not the vibrant character that once protected and guided me). But the concern still arises.

Then, I wonder if it’s Grandma, or any number of past loved ones, reaching out to me in a moment of solitude. I was recently reminded that it’s the 5th anniversary of her passing, so this could very well be the case.

All I know is that I’m grateful to be reminded, at the most mundane of moments, by the simplest of smells, that I was a lucky, lucky child.

Our Hero

I know I’ve gushed about what a super awesome husband I have a few dozen times before. It’s not bragging; I’m not in the habit of that. After all, he’s certainly not perfect all of the time (that’s my job…ha…ha…hmm). But, dude. He’s pretty great.

That being said, I thought I’d share a link to a video of his recent trip to a Massachusetts talk show called “Mass Appeal” to talk about tips on surviving your first year as a daddy. He had several talking points (which we discussed in length before he sent them his list) but they ended up discussing just a few of my favorites.
Didn’t he do great?? It’s kind of funny because I received a text from him talking about how he wasn’t feeling great (heavy breathing) when he got there, wondering if it was nerves. This is crazy considering he used to do regular on-air news reporting and anchoring in front of many thousands of people a day, and has performed as an actor to pretty big venues. I totally got it, though; it was a completely different environment, he didn’t know how big his audience was, he hardly knew the hosts (one he had befriended awhile back; the other he was meeting for the first time), and a bunch of other maybe/maybe not irrational reasons.

Knowing that he was nervous, I think he knocked it out of the park. He was relaxed, he sounded relatively intelligent (of course, he is!), and, well, sounded just like our dorky daddy!

Watching this, it was hard not to reminisce about the past 16 months and his growth as a papa. He used to be terrified and held him in an extremely awkward manner. Heck, I left for a few hours several months in and I came back with Dave having slid down the couch, holding Hadley in the exact same position, unable to even reach the remote. (He couldn’t figure out how to get up.)

But, with time came confidence and one of the sweetest relationships I’ve ever seen developed between my two boys. I have only a very little, fuzzy memory or two of my dad, so seeing them play and watching Hadman run into Dave’s arms (and the look of sheer joy on Dave’s face) brings a tear to my eye and a smile to my face…and heart.

Anyhoo, enough gushing. Let me know whatchya think! And be sure to check out Dave’s blog at www.thedorkydaddy.com. It’s good stuff!

For Those Times When Facebook Gets You Down

Sorry, no “Foodie Friday” here today. I worked some basic magic with apples, but it wasn’t anything special enough to chat about. Otherwise, life’s full of musicals and family and Christmas shopping and all the other wonderful things that this time of year brings. So, my post can staaaaaart….NOW!

I have what I like to call a lukewarm like-hate relationship with Facebook. I’ve talked about my attempts to cut down (or *gasp* even cut out) my use, to no avail. After all, it’s the best way I have to let people know that this blog even exists. It is what it is.

It’s easy to hate the thing. It has become a place of hatred…a means to bully…a way to say the most scathingly cruel comment in relative anonymity. It’s a spiteful place full of leftists and Tea Partiers who care not whose brain they make explode with their unreliably-sourced opinions. I could clearly go on…

But…

Today. (It’s Halloween, as I type this.) Today, I was made aware of the uplifting side of Facebook. The side that makes you despise people a little less. The side that makes you grateful (yes, grateful) for the chance to connect to these people I probably wouldn’t be able to communicate with…ever. Sure, some of my “friends” I actually get to see regularly. Still fewer I get to see on a rare treat of an occasion. But, then there are those that, without Facebook, I literally wouldn’t know existed anymore.

Colleagues from jobs past. Teachers who touched my life in an inexplicably real, unforgettable way. Long-lost relatives whom I’m glad to know — for real, KNOW — just by seeing their regular day-to-day thoughts. Those friends from high school and college who were FAMILY (not “like” family, but FAMILY — we knew everything about each other, even if we didn’t hang out as besties). Those dear family friends whom I had thought melted into the recesses of my bittersweet memories. Again, I could clearly go on…

It was a simple moment. I had posted a collage of Hadley’s Charlie Brown “costume” (a yellow polo shirt with the Charlie Brown zig-zag and black pants and sneakers, and a Snoopy stuffed animal; I wanted to make the shirt, but it was impossible to find a plain yellow one!), and one by one, the “likes” started slowly coming in.

Sure, I’ve had plenty of “likes” on posts before, especially Hadley ones and profile pic changes. Heck, when he was born, he got TONS of FB love. But, for some reason, it hit me hard how many people think my son is as great as we think he is. (I know he’s not perfect, but he IS freaking awesome.)

Awesome former students…who still remember me as much as I remember them.

Friends of my husband’s who have since become MY friends, even vicariously.

Parents of friends.

Co-workers.

My SISTER’S co-workers.

My 9th (or was it 8th?) grade math teacher. The one who got me the 91 on the Regents.

Cousins. Aunts. My sister’s in-laws. Students-who-were-like-daughters.

Friends who started as farmers’ market buddies.

People who remember me as the annoying little sister following around the bigger kids in marching band.

Friends I’ve had since 2nd grade.

People I met through every job I’ve ever had, who are still kind enough to keep up on my goings-on.

Dave’s former co-workers.

My kindergarten teacher. Oh, the awesome memories with her! Those were the days.

My brother, whose “like” on ANYTHING sends my heart soaring. He’s a busy guy, and doesn’t dole out “likes” for just any old thing.

My godmother, who moved away to Florida when I was in junior high. She was like another (cooler) mother, and her son was like a best friend and brother rolled into one.

People I acted with onstage YEARS ago who have since moved far, far away.

The list just keeps on comin’. I realized that these people are a part of my history in one way or another. Some, I don’t speak with today, but past negative experiences have washed away to a simple, “Oh, it’s nice to see that she’s a happy mom of some beautiful kids today.” Others, it’s awesome and uplifting to reconnect with.

All I know is that it filled me with some happiness. For once, Facebook was able to provide me with some positive perspective rather than the general, “What’s wrong with the world?” thoughts that usually pop up.

I still try to limit how much time I give to Facebook, because that’s what it is — handing time over that I’ll never get back which, for the most part, consists of anger or hurt or rudeness.

Except when it involves George Takei. Or a little boy’s Charlie Brown costume.

Our Little Pumpkin

We’re starting traditions pretty early in our little family. Santa started his annual visits last year. We can’t WAIT for Hadley to have his first big turkey day feast (we already know he’ll eat everything that goes before him, so we’ll give him a little of everything…I’m strangely excited!). And, for Halloween, we’ve got a lil’ costume planned for his day at the sitter’s (his grandma) and a later trip to my parents’ for a quick trick-or-treat visit. (We think he’s too young to do the regular trick-or-treating thing. We’re also up-in-the-air about the fact that, in the future, we’d like for him to experience these traditions and the fun and excitement of trick-or-treating, but wish there was a way to lessen the gluttonous candy-based intent behind the whole thing.) He also wore a giraffe “costume” last year, but being only three months, he just kinda…sat there.

But, we already started the spooky tradition this weekend. Meet Hadley’s twin…

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image--1742145860 on https://megactsout.com

Dave watched our lil’ monster (not really) while I cut in and scooped out the brrrraaaaains, brrrraaaaaiiiins!! By far the suckiest part of the job. I sketched a not-too-scary face that looked just enough like Hadman – he’s got two teeth that are fully in flanked by two teeth that are partially grown.

I used a safety pumpkin cutter thingamabob and started hacking away before Dave started hovering. He finally asked if he could help — I didn’t realize he was interested, yay!

We strapped Hadley into his Space Saver chair and gave him a quickly-drawn pumpkin to “color” (he poked it with the orange before we realized he was more interested in trying to eat the crayon than color…ya win some, ya lose some), but he also intently watched the creation of his jack-o’-lantern. That’s when I snapped these pics.

I put a real candle in to see what type of glow we’d created…not too shabby. (We’ve gotta track down our LED mini-candle to put it outside.) Oh, and Jasper stood watch…

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image-1187505188 on https://megactsout.com

And, now, the scary part — putting it outside on our stoop. I’m a tad terrified that it’ll get stolen and smashed. Yeah, we have hooligans in our area. It’s never happened to our small pumpkins in the past, but this one may be too cute for those brats to resist. *fingers crossed* It’s lasted a couple of nights so far.

Oh, and for the record, I wasted the seeds. We already had some on-hand (purchased, wop wop) and I was pretty tired from toddler-wrangling to go through the process of sifting through the brains/guts. I’ll roast ’em in the future (and undoubtedly post a recipe, hee hee), when the monkey can actually eat some.

We also made some popcorn and drank some cider after the baby went down for the night, while watching an awesome Halloween documentary. That’s another tradition for Mama and Papa that we do before almost every major holiday — watch a documentary on its meaning. Dave has tracked down several very high-quality ones, for Halloween, Christmas and Thanksgiving. We’re geeks and we know it. 🙂

What about you? Kids or not, do you cut into some pumpkins? Or roast some seeds? Cider? Popcorn? Caaaandy? Do tell!

Reset Button

Since Dave started his wonderful new job in the world of PR (and, more recently, after having a health scare with Hadley), his perspective has changed…which means that our family perspective, too, has shifted. While I wish my schedule was more conducive to accommodating his new ideas, I’m generally ecstatic to see the changes.

His mind is far freer to explore the parts of life he had grown out-of-touch with. He’s able to put his time and energy into his writing, but also researching healthy living ideas (sometimes even happening upon articles or websites that I had showed him a year or two ago that he didn’t have the time or mental astuteness to look into), decor for his awesome new office, family activities, and more.

I’ve always loved my husband (obviously…well, maybe not obviously, but I’m saying it here — I’ve always loved my husband!), but I hate, hate, hated what his previous job did to him. I didn’t necessarily hate the job itself, but the fact that he was always beat, always on-call to fix problems or post to the web (or getting called in), always experiencing weird chest pains, always full of stress and anger and anxiety, rarely able to help out around the house (I tried my best to juggle cooking, cleaning, baby-bathing…his one joy of the day that I was glad for him to do was reading the baby his bedtime stories), rarely able to enjoy life…that, I hated.

But, with his new job, even if he tries to stay late, his co-workers will call him out and say that it’s time to go home. *clouds part, angels sing* There’s practically no way for him to over-work. It’s beyond lovely.

So, with this newly-freed mind, here are a few ideas that he has happened upon…

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image-173171989 on https://megactsout.com

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image-1781733224 on https://megactsout.com

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image-1749187499 on https://megactsout.com

These are all part of one topic in our conversation. The Chipotle commercial to which we’re referring is this “Scarecrow” vid (which even has its own game app…yes, I downloaded it, although I simply lack the coordination to play games with a phone. It’s a fact.) which evokes almost every emotion a person can have. Don’t believe me? Check out this article. The guilt, anger and sadness is horrible…the ending, a little uplifting and inspiring that we can, possibly, make a difference in what we eat.

If only we had a Chipotle restaurant in our area. From there, we discussed other things that we can do since any chain restaurants (and a vast majority of the locally-owned ones) have deplorable ingredient sourcing practices. We also recently made the realization that the only places that are 24-hour around our joint are Wal-Mart (we don’t go there) and McDonald’s. When we needed a last-minute prescription for the baby, Dave had to drive 45 minutes away to finally get the stuff (all the local pharmacies closed EARLY…E-A-R-L-Y)!

The local eating website he shared was okay, but I still prefer localharvest.org (it’s easier to search, has more information, and is just cleaner-looking). That’s just how I feel. 🙂

So, what’s the take-away here? We’re going to work on eating better…TOGETHER. It’s not as much of an “I’ll go grocery shopping and try to figure this thing out on my own because my husband’s got more on his mind than bananas” situation (although there are crazy times of the week that I will head there on my own for a few of the essentials). Instead, he’s going to help…and even *gasp* cook from time to time. *clouds part, angels sing*

Christmas French Toast Casserole - image blogger-image-986193815 on https://megactsout.com

Yaaaay, score! We didn’t have much vacation-age going on over the summer since Dave was (all together now) leaving his job (and needed to give them numerous weeks, no vacation time to be used, to help out…worth it in the end, but the summer kinda sucked because of it for him). We usually take one Friday off to go visit Old Forge. They have an awesome farmers’ market, then we hang out by the lake and walk around town doing touristy things, then finally eat at “The Old Mill” (or some other place like that).

So, while we’ve officially missed that train for the year, knowing that we can head up north to take in the autumn scenery (the Adirondacks ROCK for that) and have a casual time of it (read: if the baby melts down, it won’t be in the middle of a nice restaurant or something) sounds like heaven to me.

(I’m also hoping that may be a gateway to finding some family-friendly hiking up north. *fingers crossed* Man, I hope the hubby’s reading.)

Needless to say, I’m very much enjoying this new job situation. 🙂