Happy New Year

No resolutions, I'm just reverting to precedented times.  Who's with me?  And we'll recruit Jeremy Renner.

Cream of Onion Soup

Mostly I was a polite and grateful child, but there was that year of cream of onion soup.

We had moved to a new town so I was nervous about measuring up to the other third graders.  All the kids had shiny superhero lunchboxes filled with Oreos, cheese sticks, a turkey sandwich, and a bag of Doritos that they would trade with other kids for Twinkies, green grapes, pretzel sticks, and a pb and j.  Except me.  I had a Tupperware tote with a little Thermos of cream of onion soup in it.

I didn't like cream of onion soup, and even worse, cream of onion soup has zero trade value in third grade.

I hated my life.

Years later the cream of onion soup made sense.  At the time there was no work, there was no money, and there were few options, but we had onions.  So my mother, Rapunzel, had tied her hair out of her way and made cream of onion soup, frozen it in little batches, and got up every morning to cook it and preheat my little Thermos to keep the soup hot until lunchtime.  When I complained, she told me how healthy it was, and like moms have been doing for generations, she omitted the more brutal details such as our household being on a knife's edge and about to be plunged into the depths of financial calamity.  Jeremy Renner couldn't have done a better job of acting as though everything was and would continue to be fine.

So if it's not too late, Mom, thank you.  Cream of onion soup, cream of anything soup actually, will always bring me happy thoughts of you.  All soup does, really.  Campbell's got nothin on you.

"These Masks Are Uncomfortable"

A much as we dislike discomfort, it's not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself.  Discomfort is a warning that calls for action.  When your leg is half numb, half pins-and-needles, you might think it's time to change position and get some blood circulating in that limb.  The empty sensation in your growling stomach could be saying you need food right away.  Teeth lodged in your butt cheek and blood soaking into your pants may indicate that you've sat on the cat and should get up immediately.  Shortness of breath, dizziness, mausea, lightheadedness, bacterial pneumonia, headaches, nasal lesions, impaired cognition, hypoxia, facial rash, skin breakdown, sinus congestion, lowered blood oxygen levels, chronic coughing, increased airway resistance, carbon dioxide accumulation, fainting, weakened immune system, screaming at strangers, or unreasonable rage at the sight of another person's nose or lips could be telling you to quit smothering yourself.

Now don't you go all Jeremy Renner on me.  You do you.  If wearing your face naked makes you uncomfortable, cover that sucker.  If the muzzle causes you discomfort, then rip that bad boy off.

The Precious Can't Stop Talking

People think The Precious is such a nice boy, and he is, but he's not the same kind of quiet polite humble kind generous thoughtful caring sincere intelligent magician at home as he is in public.  Around here he's a smidgen more impish. And talkative.  Very, very talkative.  And quite honestly, Pixie could live without that.

Maybe it's the nicknames he has for her.  Pipsqueak, Pied Piper, Pequeña, Parrot, Penny, Pick-Up-Sticks, Pick-Me-Up, Eduardo.  She despises every new title he comes up with for her.  He can't see why.

It could be that she is far too often the lone subject of his monologues.

"Does Pixie have an opinion on the matter?  Asking for a friend.  The friend doesn't care whether Pixie has an opinion on the matter.  I'm just asking for him.  I'm hungry.  Why isn't Pixie cooking me something?  I love my little sister so much.  I wish she could fathom it."

One of these days she's going to go all Jeremy Renner on him and I won't be able to stop her.

Breaking Tradition

When the family is big and the fridge is small, the days leading up to Thanksgiving dinner are lean.

It happens every year. I spend days, nights even, prepping for the feast. The fridge, stove, and oven are so taken up with holiday food, that there's nothing to eat the entire week prior to the holiday.

Lefty stomps around growling, "We ain't had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days," and Pixie's like, "Yeah. Why can't we have some meat?" And then I chase them all with a wooden spoon because they're never too old to spank, am I right?

But this year I'm changing things up. Don't tell anybody because then they'll expect it all the time, but I actually planned ahead. I wrote out a menu plan for, would you believe it, the whole week. We're going to have actual breakfasts, lunches and suppers every single day of the week, not just one big meal on Turkey Day. Now before you go being overly impressed, I'll admit it's mostly freezer to crockpot, and there will be mac and cheese involved. But still. This family's going to eat like Jeremy Renner, there won't be a famine before the feast this year.

Do you have bad traditions too? Break them. Be bold.

All the Holidays

What with the next eight weeks encompassing Veterans Day, Globally Organized Hug A Runner Day (aka G.O.H.A.R.D.), Thanksgiving, Cider Monday, Day of Lard, Winter Solstice, Christmas, a bunch more apocalypses, Whiners Day, Bacon Day, New Years, some famines, two college graduations, multiple family birthdays, and most importantly Bestie's anniversary, I already know there's no way I'll be able to keep up.

I'm just going to leave out the jack-o'-lanterns but with some tinsel garland and paper snowflakes tossed around them, and top them with angels, stars, graduation caps, and party hats.  I'll put bowties on Hunneypunkin and my life-size Jeremy Renner cardboard cutout.  We'll throw some turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberries, and chestnuts in the blender for a holiday smoothie and I'll whip up one big apple pecan banana cream pumpkin chocolate mousse pie for dessert.

The soundtrack for the remainder of the year will be my YouTube playlist of holiday songs that Angel Doll, ever the unsuspected prankster, hacked and infiltrated with songs like Cotton Eyed Joe

All gifts will be pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters because I have a lot of spare change but all coins are rare now so they're special, like the driveway gravel Pixie brought in the house when she was little(r) and collected unique rocks.

Bestie and I will sit by the roaring fireplace with champagne glasses of eggnog to reminisce about precedented times, and all will continue to be well.

Full Mooniacal Halloweekend

One ought to expect the unexpected on a full moon Halloween Daylight Savings weekend, and this one did not disappoint.

There was a pack of dogs shattering dishes in a failed attempt to hijack the homemade chicken soup. We saw pretend zombies, with and without masks. We saw real zombies, with and without masks. There were late night angry drunk texts from my good friend (or whatever) Dromiquine, multiple light bulbs burning out all at once, and a howling cat strolling through the hallway at two in the morning.

There were also some successful firsts in baking, including a pumpkin cake roll and an eggless pumpkin pie, a fat batch of from-scratch chili, and lots of Darigold eggnog. We made a delicious punch with dry ice, carved pumpkins, stayed up late watching movies, and turned back most of the clocks but not all so that no one's ever sure what time it is exactly but nobody really cares because my life size Jeremy Renner cardboard cutout is hanging out with the jack-o'-lanterns and the hot cider is spiced and everything is happily ever after.