Second Blooming

Nepotism

Excuse me for bragging, but my wonderful brother-in-law, Tony, husband to my sister-in-law, the Amazing Niki, has written a children's book! Tony's an animator, who has worked on lots of kids shows, most notably Stanley, but this is the first time he's written and illustrated a book, so we're all pretty excited.

The book is called I Once Met a Monster On My Way To School! by T.D. Snoggins (Tony's pseudonym)...

It's absolutely charming and silly, just like Tony, and the main character, Talbot, was based on JUDE!

The story answers the age old question of where all those socks end up when they disappear out of the dryer. Why, to Phil the Sock-Eating Monster, of course!

Please, PLEASE, check out the book! And BUY it! I never ask y'all to do this kind of stuff, but it's really a great and FUNNY book, and it would mean so much for our family!

Here's a link to the Barnes & Noble page.

And here's the Amazon page...

And when you buy it (I know you will) and love it (I know you will) please go back and write a review for both Amazon and Barnes and Noble!

I thank you, Jude thanks you, Tony thanks you, the Amazing Niki thanks you, Mommy thanks you, Pop thanks you...you get the idea.

Spin Cycle: High Anxiety

My Mama was a strong woman. Over the years, she endured serious hardships, triumphing over them all. She was a wonderful example of "improvise, adapt and overcome". 

But Mama had one major weakness. And it was a whopper. She was absolutely, grippingly, painfully, paralyzingly terrified of heights.

Bridges, balconies, tall buildings, mountain roads - all seized her with terror.

She would drive miles out of the way to avoid a particularly treacherous bridge. She would never look out of of an upstairs window or get anywhere close to the edge of a balcony.

For years, Mama worked for the Texas House of Representatives on the third floor of the Texas Capitol building. Occasionally, she would need to deliver something from the House side of the building to the Senate side of the building. And in order to do this, she would be forced to pass through (cue the ominous dum, dum, dum, DUM music) the ROTUNDA (add reverb echo effect)...

...the granite-lined, terrazzo-floored domed room in the center of the building.

I often spent afternoons after school in the Capitol with Mama, and I remember attempting to walk with her around the Rotunda. She would step tentatively out onto the balcony and stand clinging with her back to the wall. She would then slowly inch her way around from one side to the other. It was ridiculous. But she never seemed embarrassed that people would walk back and forth around her, staring at the crazy lady hyperventilating against the wall.

I learned early on that it was rather fun to torture her. Hehehe. I would run up to the railing of the Rotunda balcony and lean way over the edge. "NOOOOO!!!!" she would shriek. But she was too scared to leave the safety of the wall to actually come and grab me.

I came by this cruel taunting of her fear honestly. Daddy tortured her all the time. He was basically fearless, and I think he thought this acrophobia thing was silly.

The worst fight I can remember my parents ever having was once when we were on vacation in Colorado. Mama and Daddy both loved driving trips around the country, and Daddy would plan out elaborate routes so we could take in every landmark and historical location. One year, we made our way to Royal Gorge in Canon City, CO.

Yes, that would be a bridge. A suspension bridge. In fact, the highest suspension bridge in the world, hanging 955 feet above the Arkansas River. A must-see tourist attraction for most people. But for Mama? Her biggest nightmare.

A major showdown ensued. Mama dug in her heels and refused to go anywhere near that bridge, and insisted that he was not going to TAKE HER BABY ONTO THAT THING. Daddy dug in his heels and said he hadn't driven all this way to MISS THE GORGE. In the end, Mama got out of the car and actually sat on the side of the road while Daddy and I drove on and toured the bridge. He stubbornly insisted on taking a picture of me at the midway point.

I don't think she ever forgave him.

But now, after all of my taunting and teasing of my mother because of her acrophobia, I now suffer from the same thing. It's not quite as bad as Mama's was, but believe me, I finally sympathize with the poor woman.

Oh Mama, I'm so sorry! I apologize for all the times I teased you for having to put your head between your knees while Daddy drove us through mountain passes. My penance is taking Jude to Cub Scout Camp up in Lake Arrowhead. I apologize for all the times I teased you for refusing to go into skyscrapers. My penance is taking Jude to the top of the Empire State Building TWICE. And I'm sorry for torturing you in the rotunda. My penance is my weekly trek up the winding staircase into the choir loft at church. Where Jude almost always runs up to the railing and leans his head way over.

Ain't karma a bitch?

___________________________________

Don't be afraid! Run on over to each of this week's spinners and give them a little therapy!

Jan at Jan's Sushi Bar

Aimee at AimeeWrites

Claire at Incognitus Scriptor

Vandy J at Testosterone Three and Me

Dawn at Mino and Man-Man

Kendra at Life in the Slow Lane

___________________________________

Thank you to everybody who has taken my Spin Cycle Survey thus far, I can't tell you how much it helps! If you haven't had a chance, please do - it really truly only takes a minute -

Click here to take survey

As a result of what I've heard so far from the survey, I am adding one thing to the Spin Cycle starting next week. In addition to announcing the next week's Spin Subject here every Friday, I will also be sending it out in an email. This should help serve as a reminder to everybody to get their butts in gear and get their spin in.

If you would like to sign up for my Weekly Spin Subject e-mail, please let me know in a comment here, and I'll add you to the list.

Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Hair.

Yes, hair. I had actually brainstormed this idea on a list when I first began my job as your Spin Mistress, and then somebody suggested it in the survey and I thought "Let's do it!" Unfortunately, it's an anonymous survey, so I can't give credit to the person who suggested it! But you better join in!

Hair. Our crowning glory. And the source of much anxiety and humiliation. As anybody who survived the 1980s knows.

Oh dear God, how much time and effort went into my attempts to achieve Farrah-hair? And baby, I had some big hair! I was a Texas girl, after all. It was BIG.

I want PICTURES, y'all, so dig out those yearbooks. And just to make you feel better, I will share just one with you today. A teaser if you will. My friend DeeDee (the amazing Fiddledeedee!) and me circa 1990ish, back when we were slutty LA actresses before we both became respectable mommybloggers...

Now THAT is some hair! Try to outhair THAT! I dare you!

You know the drill. Write your spin. Include my button. Let me know.

And don't forget to let me know if you want on the email list!

 

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Kitchen Myths Debunked! Part Two

About a year ago I wrote THIS POST in which I debunked 10 popular kitchen myths. But I think one can never have too much debunking, so I'm going to debunk some MORE, y'all. I still just love that word...debunked. Makes me giggle. Don't know why.

So here we go again...

1. The eye of the potato is poisonous.

Not reeeeaaallly. But they are kinda poisonous.

I'm afraid that my dear Mama, though a brilliant homemaker, was a somewhat poor housekeeper. She often kept what I always thought of as "science projects" in her kitchen. Opening Tupperware containers that had been shoved to the back of the fridge was often a frightening and sometimes traumatizing experience. She always kept her potatoes in a bag under the sink, and being sent under there to fetch a potato for her was often a scary task - potatoes would have crazy roots growing out of them, little buds sprouting out of their eyes and sometimes they were sort of green and mushy. Mama would then make me peel the dang things, and cut out the eyes, but I'm afraid that we weren't particularly careful about this, and we ate them anyway.

The truth is, that potatoes are, in fact, part of the nightshade, also known as belladonna, family. Which is, of course, what the evil Locusta used to kill the Emperor Claudius. And all nightshades contain a bit of a naturally occurring chemical called solanine, which is toxic. And the eye contains a higher concentration of this solanine stuff. If potatoes age and/or are exposed to too much light, they turn all green and mushy and the amount of solamine they contain increases.

But apparently, a 200-lb person would have to eat 2 pounds of potato eyes/roots/green bits in a single day to receive a toxic dose. Which would be not only gross, but possibly psychotic. And I feel that my very existence, after a childhood of eating Mama's green and eye-ridden potatoes proves my point.

Bottom line - You should cut the eyes out because they're nasty and taste bitter, but if you leave one in, you won't kill anybody.

2. If you soak the chicken in a little lemon juice it kills the bacteria.

This is a...Mommyism. You know, I should probably write another post and title it "Mommy Debunked", because my precious mother-in-law Mommy has some wacky notions. She is also, as I have mentioned many times before, a germ freak. I suspect that if she thought it would taste okay, she would soak the chicken in Lysol. But since that's insane, she always insists on soaking chicken in a bowl of cold water and a little lemon juice.

Now, while lemon juice is, in fact, a great disinfectant, and will kill some bacteria, something called COOKING is an even better disinfectant, and will kill even more bacteria. So the soak is a bit...redundant. And lemon juice isn't a powerful enough disinfectant to kill salmonella.

On the other hand, lemon does work as a tenderizer, and it tastes damned good so...what the hell. I'll let Mommy continue with her soaking.

And while I'm talking Mommyisms...

3. Garlic lasts longer if you store it in the refrigerator.

While this is, technically, true, the cold temperature also spoils the taste and the texture of the garlic. It also makes it about 100 times harder to peel, which I tell Mommy every time I have to cook at her house, but she never listens to me. Even though the woman goes through garlic so quickly, there's no way in hell it would ever rot before she got to it no matter where she kept it. And even though the head of garlic costs all of about $.28, and God forbid she would ever have throw 3 cents of garlic away...I'm sorry, was I ranting?

The best place to store garlic is in a cool, dry place. Like the pantry.

4. You should crack an egg on the edge of a bowl or countertop.

This was Cooking 101 in my house growing up. Mama cracked every egg she ever cracked in her life against the edge of her bowl.

But apparently, if you crack them on a flat surface, your chances for a clean break are much better, and you'll be less likely to get little bits of shell in the bowl. I have been experimenting with this life-changing theory for the last couple of days and I believe it to be true.

I know! The axis of my world has shifted slightly. Live and learn.

5. The only alcohol that is good for your heart is red wine.

Oh my, this one makes me so happy I could spit.

Red wine, white wine, pink wine, beer and hard liquor all have the SAME health benefits!

Apparently, this confusion was brought about by something called the French Paradox - researchers believed that it was the antioxidants in red wine which protected all those butter and cheese loving French people from heart disease.

But more recent research has shown that antioxidants aren't the reason at all. It's the alcohol itself - ethanol - that raises the levels of HDL (good cholesterol), which helps protect arteries from plaque buildup which leads to heart attacks and strokes. So any alcohol will do the trick.

 

Unfortunately, researchers qualify this brilliant notion with the phrase "in moderation", which really takes all the fun out of it.

6. The microwave will give you cancer.

Okay, here's the deal. The radio waves produced by a microwave, which are absorbed by the food, do produce a type of radiation.  But there are two main types of radiation - ionizing and non-ionizing.

Ionizing radiation is the kind of radiation that's used in...oh...nuclear power plants. This type of radiation can be dangerous if you receive large doses of it because it has the ability to change your DNA and cause cancer. Which is bad.

But microwaves produce non-ionizing radiation. It can't change your DNA or give you cancer.

That's not to say you shouldn't be careful with microwaves. You don't want to be sticking your face in there when it's going. And you don't want to be using an old, leaky microwave either. And you especially don't want your kids messing with the microwave, since their bodies absorb radiation more easily than adults’.

So...don't microwave your head, do microwave your potato.

7. You should add a little olive oil to the water when you boil pasta so the pasta won't stick together.

I must admit, I did this for about the first half of my life. But all of my many years surrounded by Jimmy's Italian-American family have taught me that this is a poor idea. A little oil in the pot will probably keep the pot from boiling over. And tossing some oil on the pasta after you've drained it will keep the strands from sticking. But it also keeps everything else from sticking to the pasta - things like...sauce.

Every Italian cook I've met just tosses a spoonful or two of sauce into the pasta (or the "macaroni" as Mommy calls it) and stirs it up - that's all you need to keep it from sticking.

And while I'm defending Mommy...

8. If you boil your vegetables too long they lose all their nutrients.

Please, PLEASE don't tell Mommy this. This has been my argument with her for years in my attempt to keep her from boiling the vegetables until they dissolve into mush and lose all resemblance to their original selves.

But the truth is that yes, the broccoli boiled until it dissolves into a puree may have lost many of it's nutrients - mostly vitamins, which are water soluble. But important minerals like iron and potassium don’t break down that easily in water. So...DON'T TELL MOMMY!

9. Eating turkey makes you drowsy.

While tryptophan, an amino acid present in turkey, is a mild sedative, tryptophan doesn't act on the brain unless it is taken on an empty stomach and no protein is present. And since turkey is a source of protein, and most of us believe this to be true on Thanksgiving ...

 

That sleepy, lethargic feeling one feels after eating Thanksgiving dinner is more likely due to overeating a massive amount of carbohydrates and drinking a bunch of booze. That, and the fact that a tremendous amount of your blood has rushed away from your brain and into your abdomen to aid with digestion.

Bring on that football game.

10.  A watched pot never boils.

 As hard believe as it is, this is not true. The pot will eventually boil, though if you watch it long enough, your time perception may skew, and it will seem to be a very, very long time.

Okay, this one is just silly, but I couldn't think of a tenth myth and I like nice even numbers.

Well there you have it. Lots more debunking. Don't ever say I never taught you anything.

 

Check out Works-for-Me-WEDNESDAY at We Are THAT Family!

Best of 2011

I have a sinus infection. And Jude just threw up.

That said, I don't feel inspired to write much, so as part of...

I am choosing "Prompt #1 - This year in blog posts...choose a favorite post from each month of 2011 and share."

After much hemming and hawing, these are my personal favorites from each month of 2011. If you're new here, check them out. If you're an old-timer...check them out again, because they're good!

January -

If We Were the Queen of the World - A girl can dream, right?...

We (that's the royal we, y'all) would be fair but firm. In order to benefit the lives of my many subjects, I'm afraid there will have to be a few changes made around here.

BY PROCLAMATION OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN GRETCHEN I

The following changes will be made to the rule of order of the Planet Earth, effective immediately.

1. The muffin top is the new erogenous zone...

READ THE REST HERE.

February -  

Most Surreal Parenting Moment Thus Far - The one in which my poor child is faced with seeing his father...in drag...

Jimmy and I are both members of The Actor's Studio. Yes, the "world-renowned" Actor's Studio, as they say. The place founded in the forties by acting teacher guru Lee Strasberg, the birthplace of "The Method",  training ground to Marlon Brando, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, Robert De Niro, Jane Fonda, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, Harvey Keitel, Paul Newman,  Jack Nicholson, Al Pacino, Geraldine Page, Sidney Poitier, Mickey Rourke and Christopher Walken . The home of "Inside the Actor's Studio". Yes, we are...da, da, da, dum...method actors...

READ THE REST HERE.

March - 

Picky, Picky, Picky - My kid's dreadful eating habits exposed...

My child will eat the following foods:

• pancakes
• french toast
• blueberry muffins
• whole wheat bread
• white bread
• good, crusty bread
• rolls
• pumpkin bread
• raisin bread
• flour tortillas...

READ THE REST HERE.

April -

The Uniform - The sad, sad state of my wardrobe...

Sometimes, I just don't know what has become of me.

Black yoga pants and a black hooded long-sleeved shirt.

This is what I have been wearing about 4 out of 7 days a week.

And don't misunderstand. This is not an attractive outfit. It is simply...comfortable...

READ THE REST HERE.

May -

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Murdering gang bangers are found and arrested while hiding under our house. Oh yes, it's true. Life in Los Angeles, baby...

On Friday, Jude and I were having a quiet afternoon at home.

I had just let Jude buy a new game for his DSi as a reward for letting me drag him around during the last day of his Spring Break to the hardware store, the drug store AND the Target, and he was sitting happily in the corner of the living room playing away.

I decided to use the time to make some progress on my ongoing bedroom redecorating, and spray paint a curtain rod.

So I grabbed some newspaper, the old curtain rod and the spray paint and went out the back door and around to the side of the house. As I was spreading out the newspaper and shaking my little spray paint can, I suddenly realized that a helicopter was hovering above me.

Now, helicopters aren't uncommon in the Greater Los Angeles area. But when I looked up, I realized that it was an LAPD helicopter, and it was hovering really close to the ground. Really close to the ground, and circling around. Really close to the ground and circling around...me, to be specific...

READ THE REST HERE.

June - Okay, I'm cheating here - I can't decide, so I'm giving you two...

Alienated - My mediocre career as a space alien...

When I first read that the Spin Cycle topic this week was "UFOs", I must admit, I was stumped. Disappointingly, I have never encountered a UFO, no matter how much I wished it.

But then I realized that while I have never met an alien, I have BEEN an alien. Yes, during my long and incredibly mediocre acting career, I have encountered aliens twice. And in rummaging through my old photo albums, I have actually unearthed photographic evidence...

READ THE REST HERE.

The Vibe - My attempts at decorating while living with a husband who has "opinions"...

Jimmy has opinions.

Damn him.

Most husbands have the sense to defer to their wives in all matters involving design, decorating and aesthetics. When it comes time to redecorate, the couple may discuss their mutual needs, and the wife might offer fabric swatches or paint chips, just so the husband feels slightly involved, but for the most part, the wife makes all the choices. Most husbands are happy with this arrangement.

But not Jimmy...

READ THE REST HERE.

July -

Camp Mama 2011 Week Six: Sisters - Our little, testosterone-heavy household is invaded by GIRLS...

As a thank you gift to my friends Lynn and Darren for hosting my 50th birthday party in their home, we took their two precious daughters, Julianna, 7, and Isabella, 4 for three days. In the past 7 years, Lynn and Darren have been away from the girls exactly...NEVER. Not ever. And when I suggested the idea to Lynn, she jumped at it so fast it made my head spin!...

READ THE REST HERE.

August -

Conversations with Mommy and Pop Part 1 - Visiting the in-laws in New York...

FADE IN:

The family is gathered around the dining room table eating dinner. Mommy has made pasta. Jude, who Mommy thinks isn’t fat enough, has already eaten one enormous bowl of pasta and about 4 slices of Italian bread soaked in sauce.

Jude

I’m done.

Mommy

But you barely ate any of your second bowl of pasta.

Jude

But I don’t want any more. I want ice cream.

Mommy

Oh no, you can’t have ice cream if you don’t eat more of your pasta. It’s not balanced...

READ THE REST HERE.

September -

The One Who Got Away -Regrets? I've had a few. But then again, to few to mention...

The other day, I was talking to my mother-in-law Mommy, and she was all atwitter.

It seems that they had gone to a funeral, a military funeral for an ex-marine, where they draped the coffin with an American flag. According to Mommy, this "brought to mind" an old friend of hers, who she hadn't seen since the '40s, who had been a Marine...

READ THE REST HERE.

October -

LA Noir - My crazy trek across Los Angeles in search of murder...

It was a cloudy day in the City of Angels. The kind of morning that made you want to pour an extra shot of bourbon in your joe so you could face the day.

I looked at my face in the mirror and cringed. Bad night. Hot flashes. I splashed some water on my mug and headed on my way. I had a job to do. Some gumshoe work.

Armed only with my iPhone and a pair of mom jeans, I jumped into my stealthy Prius and started on my quest. My quest for...murder...

READ THE REST HERE.

November -

Dear Period -A love letter...of sorts...

Dear Period,

I fear that over the last few years our relationship has changed dramatically, that things between us have become increasingly uncomfortable and strained, and I know that soon you will leave me forever. Before we move into the next and final phase of our relationship, I'd like to take this opportunity to express my feelings, and hopefully, clear the air a bit...

READ THE REST HERE.

December -

5 Christmas Tips From Mommy - My beloved, eccentric mother-in-law's tips for the season...

For those of you new to Second Blooming, Mommy is my much beloved, 82-year old Brooklyn Italian-American mother-in-law. Mommy is a bundle of love and neuroses. Mommy's turn-ons are cleaning, chocolate, General Hospital, slutty tank tops, the Blessed Mother, blackberry brandy, flashy jewelry, sunbathing, talking to her girlfriends on the phone (all of whom are named Cathy) and her children/grandson. Her turn-offs include germs, bugs, lightning, elevators, bras, logic, "The City", all the scary things she hears about on The Today Show and often...Pop. Picture Edith Bunker with brassy hair and a top purchased from the Victoria's Secret catalogue. I adore her...

READ THE REST HERE.

 

5 Christmas Tips From Mommy

For those of you new to Second Blooming, Mommy is my much beloved, 82-year old Brooklyn Italian-American mother-in-law. Mommy is a bundle of love and neuroses. Mommy's turn-ons are cleaning, chocolate, General Hospital, slutty tank tops, the Blessed Mother, blackberry brandy, flashy jewelry, sunbathing, talking to her girlfriends on the phone (all of whom are named Cathy) and her children/grandson. Her turn-offs include germs, bugs, lightning, elevators, bras, logic, "The City", all the scary things she hears about on The Today Show and often...Pop. Picture Edith Bunker with brassy hair and a top purchased from the Victoria's Secret catalogue. I adore her. Read about Mommy's amazing beauty tips HERE. Read about Pop's 20 year hiatus, during which he lived with "that woman" HERE. And HERE for just more general Mommyishness.

5 Christmas Tips From Mommy

1. Christmas tree - Mommy saves time and energy decorating her Christmas tree by never taking the decorations off! That's right. After Christmas, she simply removes the handful of breakable ornaments people have given her over the years, covers it with plastic, and has Jerry the Yardman carry the entire tree, which she purchased several years ago at a store called Cheap John's, complete with lights, garland, balls and tinsel, down into the basement, where it remains the rest of the year. Brilliant!

 2. Gift Getting - Immediately open every present you receive, no matter what. Like a little kid.

FADE IN:

December 15th. The phone rings and Gretchen answers it.

GRETCHEN

Hello.

MOMMY

(on phone - very excited)

I LOVE IT!!

GRETCHEN

 What?

MOMMY

I got it! I got it!

GRETCHEN

What? Your present? You opened it?

MOMMY

(giggling)

I couldn't resist! I'm just like a kid! It's so beautiful!!

GRETCHEN

(exasperated)

Mommy! That was your Christmas present. It was wrapped!

Now you won't have anything to open! You won't have anything

under the tree!

MOMMY

Oh, what do I care. I love it! It's so beautiful! I know just the affair

to wear it to! The Goldstein's Hanukkah party! It's perfect!

The present was a velour sweat suit from the Old Navy. Gretchen shakes her head.

FADE OUT.

Also, Mommy absolutely adores EVERY present she EVER gets. She really, genuinely, whole-heartedly adores all gifts. It's a very nice trait to have.

3. Gift Giving - Mommy just gives cash. And who doesn't love cash? Because Mommy, despite living for the last 50 years in suburban Long Island, doesn't know how to drive, so she has trouble doing things like shopping unless one of the Cathys drives her. So Mommy just writes a check. "Pick yourself out something nice." Or pay the electric bill. Either way, always an excellent gift! Also, when Mommy does decide to give an actual present "Just so you have a little something to unwrap" she wraps all the presents in the same-sized boxes with the same wrapping paper, and never remembers to put on gift tags. Which is a wacky surprise on Christmas morning when everybody opens up the wrong presents! Mommy giggles and giggles.

4. Keeping Your Energy Up -

FADE IN:

Gretchen and Mommy are talking on the phone. Gretchen is telling Mommy about how she's busy putting up the tree and decorating the house for Christmas.

MOMMY

Don't knock yourself out! This time of year, you gotta

keep your energy up. You know what I use?

GRETCHEN

What, Mommy?

MOMMY

Mallomars.

GRETCHEN

Mallomars?

MOMMY

I love 'em! I do a little work, then I take a break and eat a Mallomar.

It picks me right up!

Gretchen shakes her head.

FADE OUT.

5. The Crab Sauce -

Every Christmas Eve, Mommy prepares The Feast of the Seven Fishes for the family. The centerpiece of this fabulous meal is her crab sauce. She cooks giant Alaskan King Crab legs in tomato sauce, then during the meal, it's served in two parts. The first course is the crab, brought to the table hot, dripping with sauce. Everybody cracks the crab legs themselves and sucks the meat out. OUTRAGEOUS! Then, the sauce is served over pasta, or as Mommy says "the macaroni". Here is Mommy's recipe, in her own words. My translation is in the brackets.

Mommy's Christmas Eve Crab Sauce

You gotta get the big Alaska King Crab legs, the real big ones. Make the man get them from the back. Buy at least 1 claw each plus. It's about $125 for the crab.

First, rinse the crab legs and let them drain overnight in the scolapasta in a pot in the fridge to get all the water out of them. [Rinse the crab legs, and drain them in a colander over a pot in the refrigerator overnight.]

Then, you get your biggest pot. Put in a little oil and then do the garlic the regular way you do when you do the sauce. Then you pour in your sauce. For 6 cans of Tuttorosso, I put in about 3 or 4 cloves of garlic.  [In large stockpot, heat 3 tbsp. olive oil. Crush 3 or 4 cloves of garlic. Mommy uses an old fashioned wooden mortar and pestle. Add garlic to oil. Saute for about 30 seconds, then add 6 28-oz cans tomato sauce. Mommy's preferred brand is Tuttorosso.]

In the middle of cooking the sauce, squash some more garlic and crushed parsley, chopped up really good in the mortaio .That gives it a change of taste. Then you cook it til it's done. [Cook for 20 minutes. In the mortar and pestle, crush another 2 or 3 cloves of garlic, and a handful of Italian parsley. Add to sauce.Cook for 30 minutes more.]

Then, you put a little oil in one of those big pots, what do you call 'em? Like a big roasting pot, and you cook the crab legs over the stove. With a little more garlic. And you cook 'em until all the water's gone. [In large roaster, heat 2 tbsp. olive oil. Add 1 clove crushed garlic, then the crab legs. Cook until liquid is evaporated.]

Put the crabs in the sauce let them cook maybe 10 minutes until they get nice and warm. then put them in the fridge. It's better if you make it a couple of days before Christmas Eve. It gets better the longer it sits.

[Reheat just until hot. Serve sauce over pasta.]

So there you have it. Christmas according to Mommy. I hope that her many years of experience and knowledge make your holiday season more pleasant and productive.

 

This post was inspired by Prompt #2: Five Things.

What Happens in Vegas...

This "Things I've Never Done" prompt from Mama Kat a couple of weeks ago is just the gift that keeps on giving. First, she suggested we write a "Thing's I've Done" followup, and now she's prompted that I choose one thing off my "Done" list and elaborate on it.

This has proven more difficult than I imagined. While all the things I did on the list are...legal, some of them are pretty compromising. Probably shouldn't have the details bouncing around the web world so my child can find them someday and be deeply traumatized. So I've settled on one that is a little naughty and fun without being too scandalous.

8. Gone on a drive-along with a Vegas cop.

My Cousin Teri has always been a bad influence on me. She's one of Mama's sister Aunt Joey's TEN children. TEN crazy children who grew up on a farm in Montana. We'd go visit them every couple of years, and those trips were some of my best childhood memories. A real adventure for a little only child!

Teri is a couple of years older than me, and I always used to follow her around like a puppy and do everything she told me to. Eat dog food. Eat shaving cream (she told me it tasted like mint). Blow up stuff with firecrackers. Lots of mischief. Teri's full of energy and fun and trouble, and I've just never been able to resist her.

About 10 or 12 years ago, Teri (who was living in So. Cal at the time) and I decided to take an overnight jaunt to Las Vegas. Our mutual Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jan lived there, and we could stay with them for the night.

When we flew into Vegas late in the afternoon, Teri's cousin Sean (her father's brother's son), who just happened to be a cop,  picked us up at the airport and drove us to Uncle Bobby's house in his SUV. Sean (who I'd never met) turned out to be a great guy, and a lot of fun. He drove us over to Uncle Bobby's and dropped us off, then left to go on duty as a cop.

Teri and I spent the evening eating dinner and visiting with our aging Aunt and Uncle. We'd thought we would maybe be able to sneak out and have some fun, but Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jan were so sweet (our mutual favorite Uncle and Aunt), and we just couldn't bring ourselves to bailing on them.

Then, around 10 pm, Teri announced to me that I should maybe go in and change into something cuter and put on a little makeup. Turns out, Teri had paged Sean, who showed up about 10:30 in his squad car, picked us up, and dropped us off at the Golden Nugget on Freemont Street in downtown Vegas.

Our first stop? Tequila shots. Next stop? Roulette. We then proceeded to drink and gamble our way through two or three casinos, and most of our money. At one point, Teri was on a roll at the craps table. TWENTY-TWO!! And we were jumping around and screaming and making quite a spectacle of ourselves. Lots of fun.

At about 4 am, we decided that maybe we should head back to the old folks place, and Teri tracked down Sean. Turns out, he was in a coffee shop about a block away, eating "lunch" with his cop friends. We stumbled drunkenly into the place and made an even bigger spectacle of ourselves. Apparently, Sean's cute, crazy, drunk cousins were quite a hit with the other cops, though we didn't hear about this until later.

So Sean led us out to his squad car to drive us home, making us sit in the back. He was, after all, on duty, and I'm thinking wasn't supposed to have a couple of drunken civilian women in the car with him unless he was arresting them.

Teri and I, of course, immediately started goading him, wanting him to show us all his cool cop stuff. And Sean, being pretty flirtable, was easily swayed. He drove around all the bad parts of town and showed us where all the Vegas hookers hung out.

Eventually, we talked him into "making a bust". He started randomly running the license plates of cars we drove by, until he finally found somebody whose registration had run out, or some such other minor infraction. While Teri and I hid in the backseat giggling, Sean put on an elaborate show of "approaching the vehicle with caution" with his hand on his gun. After running the drivers license of this poor sod, he let him go with just a warning (Sean was, after all, a nice guy).

It was at about this time, when a freakish phenomenon hit Vegas. It started to snow. I swear to God. It was surreal.

As Sean drove us back to Uncle Bobby's in the snow, we talked him into turning on his siren and driving as fast as he could. Which he did, as we screamed and squealed in the backseat.

I am hereby NOT mentioning Cousin Sean's last name, as I fear that the leadership of the LVPD might frown upon this silly behavior, and I don't want to get him in trouble. Plus it was a long time ago. And there must be a statute of limitations on taking silly drunken women on an unofficial (and possibly illegal) drive-along. Maybe.

Anyway, there you go, there's your story. Please pop over to Mama Kat's for more follow ups to "Things I've Done" from other folks.

RTT: Whiny McWhiner, Not-Chili and Cash

 

Oh. Dear. God. My husband is the WORST PATIENT ON THE PLANET. I realize that all you women think that YOUR husbands are the worst patients on the planet, but this would be incorrect. It is mine. You may remember that we've had a bout with illness around our house. Well, Jude has bounced back and returned to his usual bouncy self. Jimmy? Not so much. After bucking up on Saturday night so he could shoot the film he's working on, he has hereby dissolved into the most pathetic and demanding sick person I've ever experienced.

Sunday night, he was up most of the night moaning. Yes. Moaning. His symptoms? A temperature of 99 degrees, and a cough. I know it was 99 because he obsessively takes his temperature every 30 minutes. "It's STILL 99!" The man was moaning. And tossing and turning, I might add, which made for a rather unpleasant night for us both. Monday morning, he staggered out of bed and announced that he'd just endured the "worst night of my life". He was telling ME. And that he needed to go to the doctor immediately. I tried to tell him that he had a virus, and that there was very little the doctor could do to help him. That he just needed to stay in bed and get some rest. At which point Jimmy got a bit ugly and nasty, and accused me of a lack of caring and a certain amount of bitchiness.

Upon returning from the doctor two hours later, he announced melodramatically "The doctor says I have a VIRAL INFECTION!!" Mmmm...no kidding. "And there's NOTHING HE CAN GIVE ME!!" Hmm. Surprise. At least the doctor did prescribe some nice cough medicine with a healthy dose of Codeine, so he would go to damned sleep and GET OUT OF MY HAIR.

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I have yet to make it to a Weight Watchers weigh in this week, due to all the illness and Halloweening around here. But I fear that the week will not prove successful. While I was pretty good for most of the week, I fell a little off the wagon last night. Too many yummy treats. And I'm not talking candy. I'm more of a savory girl. Between Juliet's famous artichoke dip, Lynn's cheese dip with bacon, and these excellent pomegranate martini thingys...what can I say.

I did, however, make a tasty Weight Watchers stew, which I will share with you...

Spicy Chicken Stew (which the website LaaLoosh calls 'White Chicken Chili", but I refuse to defame the name of chili by applying it to anything that includes chicken or white beans, no matter how tasty it might be)

1 tsp. oil

1 1/2 cups chopped onion

4 cloves garlic, minced

8 oz. boneless chicken, cubed

2 4-oz cans diced green chilies

1 1/2 tsp. ground coriander

1 tbsp. ground cumin

1 tsp. chili powder

salt and pepper to taste

2 15-oz cans Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed

3 cups fat-free chicken broth

2 limes, juiced

1/4 cup chopped cilantro

In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add chicken, and cook until chicken is no longer pink. Stir in chilies, coriander, cumin, chili powder and salt and pepper. Cook another 5 minutes. Add beans and broth; bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes. Stir in lime juice and cilantro and cook for 5 minutes more.

Makes 6 servings.

WW Points Plus - 5 points per 1 1/4 cup serving.

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Geeky choir humor...

 

Meow!

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Instead of handing out candy to all the little neighborhood trick or treaters, my mother-in-law Mommy passes out...cash. Yes, every year she goes to the bank and gets rolls of nickels and dimes, which she drops in each little Halloweeners treat bag. When I asked her why she does this, she answered "There was a big scare! They was putting razor blades in the candy! Nobody was letting their kids eat the candy no more, so I started giving them money." "But Mommy, wasn't that back in the 1970's?" "Well...yeah." So for the last 40 years, Mommy has been handing out cash. Apparently, this makes their house particularly popular. "Sometimes they come back over and over." "I'll hear one kid shout out 'This lady's giving out money!' and they all come running." I have to say, Jude would much rather have cash than a bag of lousy candy corn or Dots.

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Okay, I'm out of here. Whiny McWhiner needs a new damp rag for his forehead. I promise not to spit in his chamomile tea.

Endure the Pain

About 10 years ago, Jimmy's back "went out". This used to happen fairly often, but this particular time, Jimmy was doing a play, and needed to go on stage that night.

Feeling the need for some sympathy, Jimmy called his dad. He told Pop all about how bad his back hurt, how he could barely stand, let alone walk and perform a role. He expected his father to agree with him that he needed to stay home and ice himself, and make his under-rehearsed understudy go on.

Instead, Pop listened quietly then said..."Endure the pain."

To give you an idea of how this was intoned, imagine Tony Soprano issuing an order to Big Pussy that he had to go whack somebody. Quiet. Strong. Blunt. "Endure the pain."

"But Pop, I really should..."

"You gotta job to do. You do it. Be a man. Endure the pain."

And that was that. Jimmy endured the pain and went on stage that night.

That's kind of what's been going on around our house this weekend. Remember how I've been sick with a cold for the last week? Sawing away at all that cardboard making Jude's Lego Zombie costume while wheezing and hacking? Because I had to finish his costume in time for his school's big Halloween Parade on Friday.

Endure the pain.

Friday, Jude proudly dressed up in his uber cool costume for the parade. I fear that as cool as it is, it's not exactly...comfy. And things like...oh...walking...are not so easy. For those of you who missed Friday's post, here's the Lego Zombie...

But the kid was a super trooper. Wore that thing with pride for the entire ENDLESS parade, shuffling around like a true Lego Zombie, never complaining once.

Endure the pain.

Alas, our unbelievably incredible, coolest costume of all the costumes EVER did NOT win the prize. Much upset. From ME, not Jude. But I'm not even going to go there, because I'm too disappointed (robbed, I tell you ROBBED...no don't go there).  Jude, however, who has won a prize the last two years, was his usual stoic self, happy for those who did win (how this child spawned from my loins, I don't know). As we turned to shuffle out to the car, his first words? "What do you think I should be next year?" I swear to God.

Endure the pain.

On Friday night, I was awakened by Jude at about 2 am. He was standing next to my side of our bed, quietly crying. "I'm scared." This is not like my big boy. While he still loves to snuggle, he seldom cries, and is stubbornly stoic about showing any fear at all. So I knew something was up.

I opened up the blankets for him to crawl with us, and sure enough...boiling with fever. Ergh. I get him a dose of Tylenol, and try to go back to sleep. But between the boy thrashing feverishly and Jimmy's freight train decibel snoring, sleep was elusive.

Saturday morning, I woke up to discover that not only did Jude have a 102 degree fever, but Jimmy had a 101 degree fever! Thus explaining the particularly awful snoring. And Jimmy had to be on the set of the short film he's shooting this week at 4:00 pm for a night shoot!

So I spent Saturday nursing my two sick boys. Then bundling Jimmy off with a bag full of tea and cough drops to go to work, from which he wouldn't return until about 3:00 am.

Endure the pain.

Sunday, I nursed the big and the little boy again. The big boy was by FAR the more difficult patient. I must have opened the window/closed the window, turned on the fan/turned off the fan, put on a blanket/pulled off a blanket at least 20 times each. The little boy snuggled on the sofa, and I must have really been feeling indulgent, because I let him watch about 5 hours of DumbBob. 

Endure the pain.

Then today, it's HALLOWEEN. Sigh. I'm determined that at least the littler boy will be well enough to trick or treat. Because, damn it, that costume is too cool not to show off at least one more time. AND we have a handful of close friends and their kids coming over to trick or treat in our weird little neighborhood, which is one of our very favorite yearly celebrations. I'm making Spicy Chicken Stew (the recipe calls it Chicken Chili, but as a Texan, I refuse to defame the name of chili by using it to describe something with includes chicken and white beans), cornbread, salad and Pumpkin Spice Cake. Little of which I can actually consume because of my Weight Watchers.

Endure the pain. 

The One Who Got Away

The other day, I was talking to my mother-in-law Mommy, and she was all atwitter.

It seems that they had gone to a funeral, a military funeral for an ex-marine, where they draped the coffin with an American flag. According to Mommy, this "brought to mind" an old friend of hers, who she hadn't seen since the '40s, who had been a Marine.

When Mommy mentioned this to my SIL Niki, Niki "looked it up on that little machine and there it all was! All about him! It was all in there!" (pulled out her trusty iPhone and Googled the man.) Up came all sorts of things, rare for someone of that pre-internet generation. It turns out this man had recently passed away, and someone (probably a grandchild) had posted a long and lovely YouTube tribute to him, showing a series of photographs of his life, from back when Mommy knew him in Brooklyn in the 1940s, through a long and distinguished military career, a 55-year marriage, children and grandchildren. It was very sweet and touching.

Well...now Mommy says she just "can't get him out of her brain". I asked her if this man had been a boyfriend, and she answered, a little guiltily "Yeah. But only for a couple of months. Then I blew it." When I asked her what exactly that meant, she told me that it had been Christmas, and he'd come over "loaded with presents" for her. But she didn't have anything for him. She said that in those days you "Couldn't give a boy a present if you wasn't engaged or something!" But I guess he got hurt by this, and soon after went overseas with the Marines, and she never saw him again.

And now, 60 years later, she's thinking of him again. Don't you kind of love that? She's 82 years old, and her heart's all aflutter from seeing pictures of this man, and the life that wasn't hers.

I guess we all have "the one who got away", right? I actually have...mmm...several. Not just an old boyfriend, but someone who you had a relationship with, but the relationship ended in some unresolved way. And then if that person ended up having an interesting and successful life, you think hmmm...that could have been me.

Of course, I wouldn't actually want that to have happened, as then I wouldn't have my Jimmy. Or my Jude. Or my Jimmy's crazy family. But I think it's natural to wonder.

Facebook is a huge source of this coulda-woulda-shoulda stuff. I seem to be Facebook "friends" with almost every old boyfriend I ever had. And you can't help but kind of guiltily checkout their profile pages, see how they turned out. What kind of wife they ended up with. How successful they became. Or not.

Then, while perusing someone else's family photos, rifling through somebody's life, you suddenly remember...why you broke up in the first place.

I have one old boyfriend who when I knew him was your standard out of work actor. Lived with his parents. Never actually got real work. Now? He's an extremely successful surgeon in Portland. How did that happen? He was always really cute. And smart. And interesting. And...ah, that's right. He was also an asshole. And an alcoholic. Silly me.

There was a boy I had a terrible crush on in high school. Cute. Nice as can be. Most popular boy, a jock. And strangely, always kind of had time for me, the drama/choir geek girl, who the popular boys never paid ANY attention to. I ran into him later, at the University of Texas, and I remember thinking that he seemed kind of interested in me, but I sorta blew him off - too busy being a bad girl drama major. But it could have happened. Sigh. Perusing his profile on Facebook I suddenly...yawn. Yes, yawn. Oh that's right. I've never gone for the normal, dependable, engineering major types, have I? I would, no doubt, have ended up throwing him over for some dude with an earring and a motorcycle.

There are other people who ended up extremely successful, who I know would never have become so if they had stayed with me. My ex comes to mind. Nowadays he's a millionaire country music songwriter. But when we were together, he was a slacker, out of work rock and roller. And he didn't start to become successful until after we broke up, mostly to spite me, I think. First, he moved to Nashville. Which I NEVER would have done - I had a burgeoning acting career in Los Angeles, I wouldn't have left. And then, truthfully, he didn't become a serious success until he started writing with the woman who would become his 3rd wife. I think if it hadn't been for her, he never would have been the success he is.

So then, along the same lines, is there anyone who would have had a different life if he had ended up with me? I think of one particular boyfriend from college, a wonderful man, extremely talented and smart and nice and cute. But also painfully insecure. And he's never become all that he truly could have been, never really tapped his talents. And I think...if I'd stuck around, and really nurtured him, could he have been great? Who knows.

The truth is, I believe we're all right where we should be. Right where the sum of our choices has brought us. In the words of Mick and Keith...

 

So. Could Mommy have been married to this other man? Become a military wife, lived all over the world and raised a dynasty of children and grandchildren? No. I think not. I think they probably have too many germs in other countries. And she could never have moved that far from her mother.

And of course if she had, she'd never have had her Jimmy and her Tony and her Jude. So. Sigh...

So think about it. Do you have "the one who got away?" Do tell. 

Spin Cycle: A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words - Part Two

This week's Spin Cycle topic is "Picture Essay".

Yesterday I showed you the picture...

 

And here's the essay...

That is...my Mama. Yep, the one with the bottle of bourbon and the mustache. The place was Chicago. The time: 1945. According to Mama, she and some friends were just having a little party in her apartment. When I asked her why it was all women, she reminded me that "the boys" were all off fighting in WWII, and the girls were left to have fun on their own. That, by the way, was one of her favorite party tricks - the mustache thing. She taught me how to do it when I was just a little girl. The bourbon thing she taught me much later.

Yes, back before my Mama reinvented herself as a church lady and bastion of Southern gentility, she had...a bit of a past. In fact, there were many bits that she never told me about, which I have now come to understand were somewhat nefarious. But out of respect for her privacy, I will only tell y'all the bits she chose to tell me about. She loved to tell a good story, but I'm not entirely sure about the veracity of her tales. There are many things that I have, since her death, come to know weren't exactly 100% true. So keep that in mind.

Mama was born in Aberdeen, South Dakota in 1923, the 5th of 7 children. They lived in a big farm house and her daddy was an attorney, and member of the South Dakota House of Representatives. Her life changed drastically when she was 10. Her mother died (of pneumonia, I think) and her father died a year later (not sure why, but Mama claimed it was from a broken heart). Seven children, the Depression. A hard time. Mama's older sister, Gladys, and her oldest brother, Frank, raised all their younger siblings. Uncle Frank once said that "some days they ate potatoes and water, and other days they ate water and potatoes.)

I don't think that Mama ever got along with her sister, Gladys. Poor Gladys was a young woman of 21 when their parents died, and she was forced to put her life on hold while she took care of all these little kids. And I think Mama was a bit of a handful. While she never really told me this directly, I am in possession of Mama's old high school yearbooks, which are FILLED with inscriptions telling her how much "fun" she was, and how much "personality and pep" she exhibited. She was a yell leader. Her senior yearbook has THREE references to a certain Prom Night, all illustrated by little drawings of bottles with "XXX" written on them, and something about "fun" in the backseat that time they all drove to Sioux Falls. Mama did tell me that Aunt Gladys refused to let her wear lipstick, so she secretly bought some and hid it in her purse, then would stop and put it on while walking to school, using a shop window as a mirror.

According to Mama, after graduating high school in Spring of 1941, she went away to college at the University of Washington, in Seattle. I am not at all sure if this is true, but she does seem to have been in Seattle at this time. I can't imagine how her family was paying for college for her, I don't think she was much of a scholar - pretty busy having all that "fun". Anyway, she claimed that Aunt Gladys had insisted on giving her a home perm before she left for Seattle, but it turned out horribly. In a fit of hysteria, she pulled out her fingernail clippers in the bathroom on her train to Seattle, and cut all her hair off into a short, but stylish bob. I like to believe this was true.

Then, on December 7, 1941, she was snow skiing with some friends, and when she got to the bottom of the mountain for lunch, everybody was screaming and crying and when she got the the lodge, they were all clustered around a radio. Pearl Harbor had been bombed. As all her brothers joined the military, she was forced to leave college.

She said that she then got a job in a factory at a shipyard in Seattle. Rosie the Riveter stuff. I asked her once what she had done exactly, and she said something vague about sorting bolts on a conveyor belt. As you can imagine, a girl with all that "personality and pep" didn't last long in such a tedious job, and she soon headed off for the big city.

Eventually, she made her way to Chicago. By herself, which I think was pretty bold and adventurous at the time. She said that she talked her way into a job as a telephone operator for a big sporting goods company in Chicago. She lied and told them she knew how to run a switchboard. Apparently, on the first day, she created a complete disaster and got all the lines switched. But instead of firing her, they promoted her to Receptionist. I told you she had "personality and pep"! She loved working there because all the young men were away fighting in the war, and the place was populated by older, "fatherly" men who looked after her. Yeah, right.

She had quite a few stories from that time. She claimed that she modeled for Marshall-Fields...

 

She claimed that she was hit on in nightclubs by both Danny Thomas and Mel Torme, but succumbed to neither of them. Danny Thomas was a married man, and Mel Torme was...short. She also claimed that she had several male friends who were gay, and she liked to go out with them because they'd take her out to a nice dinner and a movie, but didn't try to get any S-E-X.

My favorite Mama-brush-with-greatness story was about a night when she was out with her friends. According to Mama, in those days all the girls wanted to look like they could hold their liquor. So they'd drink and drink, then go into the bathroom and make themselves throw up, then go back out and drink more. Sort of alcoholic bulimia. "All the girls did it!" she claimed. So this one night, she was in a nightclub bathroom vomiting up her Mai Tais and heard the girl in the next stall doing the same. When they both came out to clean up and rinse their mouths, the girl in the next stall turned out to be...Veronica Lake.

Another of her weirder stories was about a time when she and a roommate were painting their apartment. She said she was trying to paint the ceiling, so she balanced a chair on top of the radiator, and stood on it. Of course she took a tumble, and the back of the chair rammed her between the legs. Unfortunately, she had in a tampon, and she got so swollen up that she had to go to the emergency room to have the tampon removed. I have fact checked this crazy story, and tampons were, in fact, being sold by the late 1940s - but most women still used Kotex. Maybe she was a pioneer.

Now I need to explain that these tasty little stories came out of her in drips and drabs. Most of the time, she pretended to be terribly upright and straightlaced, and then suddenly one of these tidbits would come tumbling out. Mama was a puzzle.

Interestingly, it was during this period of her life when she converted to Catholicism. Which in my mind, must have involved some serious thought and a certain amount of spiritual curiosity. But all she really said about it was that she liked being Catholic, because there was a cathedral in Chicago that held masses every hour on the hour all night Saturday night, and she could just leave the nightclubs, hit a mass at 2:00 in the morning, then go home and crash and she had fulfilled her Sunday church obligation and could sleep in.

Her life during the entire second half of the 1940s is a mystery to me. I know her sister, my Aunt Joey moved to Chicago to go to nursing school, and they lived together. But that's about it.

The last Chicago story that Mama shared was that she had been engaged to be married. To a rich boy from Long Island (ha!) named Lawrence Vincent Snyder, III. She claimed that they had even gone so far as to send out the wedding invitations, when she chickened out and ran away. She said she had a good girlfriend, Mary Jane, who had gotten married and moved to Austin, Texas, of all places, and when she ran away from Lawrence Vincent Snyder, III, she got on a train and hightailed it to Austin, because she didn't think anybody would think to look for her in such a place.

The rest, of course, is history. She met my Daddy and became upright and ladylike and a wonderful wife, homemaker and mother.

So there you go, the story of the picture. Myyearwiththemouse blew me away by guessing Chicago! And very close to the right date. But I have to give the prize to Michele, who wrote and entire, brilliant story about these partying ladies. Tell you what, Michele, when you come out to LA for that conference, I'll take you out for a drink.

Please drop by Sprite's Keeper for more spins on "Picture Essay".