Category Archives: Random Thoughts

>Random thoughts on Christmas Day

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>Last night Amigo suggested we set our alarms and all get up to open presents together. Unfortunately, the bunnies didn’t follow the plan. Peanut was up on our bed 45 minutes before the alarm was due to go off. Husband went downstairs to feed Buttercup, and she made a beeline for the tree and began nibbling on wrapped presents. The result: one bunny back in her cage, all three bunnies fed, and a lot of laughter before we heard Amigo moving around his room in his jingle bell necklace.

Our kitchen contains an embarrassment of riches. The refrigerator has leftover turkey and fixings, the snack basket overflows with cookies and other treats, and the freezer hides enough turkey stock for three soups or stews. There might be a little wine left, too — or not. Did we really drink all the Door County mulled cherry?
In fact, I told the family that no one, but no one, can go out to eat for at least two weeks. Oh, okay, I might relent on New Year’s Eve.

Husband, the TV and movie guy, got me DVDs. I got him books. I’m sure there’s some deep meaning to these choices, but I think I’ll just chalk it up to sharing our pleasures. My DVDs are three seasons of the classic Muppet Show: I predict some fun family time in the den watching these!

Environmental and frugal wrapping went well. We didn’t buy a single roll of wrapping paper. The unwrapping process generated more recycling than garbage. Buttercup enjoyed chewing on the thick white packing paper. I’ll definitely continue this trend.

So on that note, I think I’ll adjourn to have lunch. Whatever leftover wins my appetite lottery will be followed by pumpkin pie.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

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>Is the thermometer broken?

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>Part of Husband’s job involves working at Lambeau Field on game days. He was on the field a few weeks ago along with a team from (ahem) the Southern realm of the NFL. He was dressed for what we called Moderate Cold Weather, but the guys from down south had a hard time dealing with the change in temperature from the blue skies of home.

In a case like this, we Northerners take pride in our toughness, our knowledge of how to dress, our attitudes in dealing with extreme weather.

One of the Southern Staffers caught a glimpse of a thermometer and threw (in my teen’s words) a total fit. “It’s so cold there’s no temperature!”

It was Zero Degrees Fahrenheit.

I hesitate to imagine how he would deal with the concept of wind chills below zero.

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>In response to irregular plurals

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>”Reactions while correcting the weekly spelling test” just didn’t sound as good for a post title.

What were these kids thinking?
Sheelves: female elves? Are there He-elves, too? Or was that just a drawn out vowel, a southern style accent, Shayelves? One student spelled it shaelves. “Put the books on the shaelves, ma’am.” Shelves also became Sleves, Sevles, and shelvs.
Theeth: well, the kid knew the plural needed a double e and a -th. Maybe he wasn’t sure if the th came at the beginning or the end and just put it in both places to increase his odds. Or not.
Chidren: three kids left out the L. That’s not a regional dialect, folks; we really do say “children.”

Wimen? Gese? Gesse? Spacecrafts?

I really did teach the spelling structures for the irregular plurals. The kids created a list comparing the singular to the plural form of each word, sorted by pattern. The list stood on a chart in a prominent place for a week. They had review/ practice sheets for extra credit.

The dysgraphic child in the class handled this test with 100% accuracy. That’s not easy; dysgraphia made the P in sheep difficult, among other letters. This kiddo worked harder than any other to make these letters fall in the right places and face the correct directions.
To the rest I’m tempted to say, “What’s your excuse?!”

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>Any port in a storm, as long as there’s coffee. And wi-fi.

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>Famous last words: “It was fine when Amigo and I had to spend the night there.”

Amigo and I were caught out in a storm a few weeks ago, so we stayed in a hotel down the road from La Petite’s apartment in her small college town. We were relieved to find that there was room at the inn, and happy to find that the Inn offered complimentary continental breakfast and free wi-fi. It wasn’t fancy, but we didn’t need fancy. It worked for us.
Husband told me (a few days later) that he had looked into this place when we visited during Homecoming weekend, and he made reservations elsewhere because the reviews were all negative. Lousy. Bad news, bears. Whatever, warhawks.
That’s when I uttered my famous last words (see above).
So when we decided to visit to celebrate daughter’s birthday last weekend, we stayed at the Inn Down the Road.
Where should I begin?
The mattresses were soft, the kind we call Valley Beds with a major dip in the middle. The pillows were lumpy. Comfort wasn’t on the menu.
The TV reception was blurry. Not just unclear, downright blurry.
The heater continuously pumped out excessive warmth, leading to dry, dry air and dry, dry throats. Adjusting this appliance led to two adults who didn’t sleep much, since we were frequently getting up and changing the settings and peeling off layers of winter pajamas.
Pool (indoors, of course) was okay, but the whirlpool wasn’t available.
Breakfast was good, though. They had a wafflemaker that started with batter and produced a fresh, warm waffle in two minutes. The coffee was good, and that always helps.
As we left, Amigo and I talked it over. We didn’t have the heat problem a few weeks ago, but that was because I didn’t discover the heat switches until morning. We were so exhausted and relieved to have shelter that we just tucked ourselves into the blankets and slept. We didn’t swim that night, and we didn’t notice a problem with the mattresses or pillows. Maybe we were just too tired to care, or maybe the bedding in the other room was newer and less worn.
In conclusion, we decided that the Inn Down the Road was a good port in a storm, but not the greatest place for a pleasure trip with the family.
Happy Love Thursday, all. Next time, I’ll do my best to keep my Famous Last Words to myself.

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>Coping with the Storm

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>Hunker down or evacuate? Depends on the storm.

Here in the Northern Reaches of the Midwest, we hunker down. Our storms are tornados, thunderstorms, blizzards, bitter cold temperatures, and (sometimes) floods. Most of the time, it’s not even enough to cancel a football game. We prepare by having flashlights, fresh batteries, candles, matches, and firewood. If power goes out, we can cook on the grill or eat cold sandwiches. If power goes out in winter, we put the frozen food in a cooler in the snow and all is well. Snowstorms usually leave the house intact.

The main danger in a storm is travel. In a blizzard, we stay home. Schools get cancelled (sometimes) or delayed until the plows can get through. In bitter cold below-zero weather, we dress in layers – many layers — before venturing out to get the paper or shovel snow. We Wisconsin natives pride ourselves on coping with the cold and the snow, but it’s a world of difference from the parts of the country that prepare to evacuate on sometimes little or no notice due due impending hurricanes or wildfires.

In my training as a Public Health Volunteer, the trainers kept impressing upon us that a true pandemic flu could stop all public interaction. Schools would close, most businesses would close, and people would be advised to stay home. Cutting out the outside world can stop the germs and viruses from spreading and potentially save lives. It would be the ultimate in hunkering down. How can we prepare for that?

I guess the best way to prepare would be to stop rambling on my blog and take inventory of the pantry and medicine chest. Here I go…do we have enough peanut butter to bake cookies?

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>Juggling — literally and figuratively

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>In the final graduate class toward my Masters Degree, all of the class members were describing their personal growth and professional progress as they had passed through the program cycle. We were seated in a circle, my friend Sara next to me, and Deb was showing us a collection of photos that represented critical points in her educational journey. The classroom windows were tall and narrow and far apart, so only those of us sitting exactly in the right place could see outside. Beyond the window behind Deb, on an entrance road that passed rather close to the building, a juggler appeared.
Yes, a juggler. Big yellow shoes, baggy black clown pants, bowling-pin style clubs spiraling through the air. Sara and I exchanged glances, then looked back at Deb and tried to concentrate. The juggler walked on, and a parade of dog-walkers following him. This group of people — it had to be at least 75 to 100, just counting the two-legged folk — strode along as though they were marching for a cause (which was probably the case!). By this time, Sara and I could no longer look at each other. The longer the line went on, the closer we came to laughing. As the dogs and their humans paraded down the road out of sight, a helicopter landed on the campus lawn. Yes, a helicopter.
Deb had no idea.
Sara and I held onto our composure and used our best drama skills to at least feign focus until Deb was done. During our next break, we told her the whole story. Truth is stranger than fiction, and this was one of the strangest things to happen to us during grad school.
Five years later, we are still friends. Deb’s a fabulous teacher and a great juggler herself, a mother of three and teacher in a low-income school in our fair district. Her sense of humor took her through the cycle of graduate classes and served her yet again when we informed her of the sights she hadn’t even known were competing for our attention.
As the new year looms closer and my personal juggling act gathers momentum, I can’t help but think of the juggler who started the whole crazy parade outside the graduate school window. The symbolism remains strong; we might never know how many people around us are juggling. I won’t even try to address potential symbolism in the helicopter landing.

Parent Bloggers Network and BigTent asked bloggers to chronicle their goals and changes for 2009. For me, life always come down to the juggling act. This is a true story, a post renewed and revised one more time.
I’d love to get my act together and maybe even take it on the road for a while. But for now, I’d be satisfied to successfully juggle all the balls that life throws at me. Want to join my circus? Watch your step; the dogs are often a hard act to follow.

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>How Green can I be?

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>I don’t like wrapping paper. It gets used once and then thrown away. It’s not recyclable, we can’t burn it in the fireplace, and re-using it is difficult if not nearly impossible. So what’s an environmentally friendly mama to do? I re-use paper when I can, I keep gift bags until they fall apart, and set up a box for the cut-up cards that become our tags every year.
It still seems wasteful.

I’ve set myself a goal. Goals need to be realistic, so I set this one high enough to make a difference, but not so high I’ll be sure to fail.

I’m determined to use no new wrapping paper this holiday season.

I can use scraps that are already on our wrapping shelves. I can re-use bags and tissue, bows and curling ribbon. But I won’t buy new wrapping paper, no matter how cute or special.

I’ve salvaged packing materials, especially the large pieces of butcher paper that cushion the smaller boxes within the big ones. Flattened, that paper makes a great base for wrapping. I can decorate it with cards or ribbons or other small pieces of wrapping material, and it’ll look reasonably festive.

My family won’t buy into my project. I know that already. They fuss when I take care to open presents so I can reuse the paper. But I set this goal for me alone, and I don’t plan to force it on the rest of the crew.

Here’s the first. We have a couple of birthdays to celebrate over Thanksgiving holiday. This one is wrapped in off-white packaging, decorated with pieces from one of last year’s holiday newsletters and a bow, and then one of my own specialized gift tags.

Off we go; for a Christmas that’ll be at least greener, if not green.

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>In the eye of the beholder

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>Loveliest of trees… or at least one of them. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood when the trees look like this.

It’s not so lovely when the road signs look like this. And this sign was quite readable, compared to the other road signs that we needed to read to reach our destination on Monday morning.

It was the kind of weather that made us decide to take a detour into a Farm and Fleet store and buy Amigo a new pair of boots. These were not inexpensive boots, either. They fit, they’re warm, and he can handle them himself. I call it an investment. I hope his feet are done growing for now….
You can see the evidence in the parking lot. The roads were that sloppy, too. My vehicle is so grungy that even my visually impaired teenager remarked, “Mom, your van is a mess.”
A snow- and road salt-covered minivan is just not as pretty as a snow-covered tree.

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>Random thoughts on a long Thanksgiving weekend

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>The makers of stuffing mix recommended twice as much stuffing as needed. Twice as much! Next year I’ll know better. But I like stuffing, so it’s not really a problem to have leftovers.

I wish I could have composted the coffee filters and coffee grounds yesterday. I made three pots total. Oh, the guilty feeling of throwing these in the garbage!

The turkey carcass made a great soup stock. There was just enough leftover turkey for two containers: One for sandwiches, one scraps for soup.

Cloth napkins are definitely the way to go. Gather them up after the meal, throw them in the laundry basket, and wash them with the dish towels. If we’d used paper, each person would have used at least two, and the pile would have filled half a garbage bag. The decision to use cloth might help ease my guilt about the coffee grounds and filters (see above).

We have a tiny kitchen in our Victorian home. I call it a “one person kitchen,” but Husband and I managed to work in it together. I stuffed the turkey and settled it in the oven, then Iron Chef Husband took over and made the sides. We worked side by side as I made the gravy while he carved the turkey. After all was said and done, the meal was delicious. We were both tired enough that if we hadn’t had guests, I think both of us would have napped after the leftovers landed in the fridge.

A crockpot is great for stuffing. I put as much in the turkey as I could and then cooked the rest in the crockpot. My poor worn out crockpot, that is, with the falling-off handle and the rust stains on the sides from steam and condensation. The crock, the actual cooking pot, is in great shape. the outer piece is not.

My family loves my crockpot soups and other creations enough that they arranged a new crockpot for my birthday! Daughter stopped at an outlet mall on the way home from her college campus and bought me a brand new crockpot AND Little Dipper! I’ve never had a Little Dipper, so I predict all kinds of fun ahead.

La Petite has been 21 for almost a full year now. I’m still adjusting to the fact that she can drink wine or beer at dinner and not need our permission to do so. So far she’s shown a knack for drinking only in moderation, thank goodness.

Amigo thinks he wants to go shopping on Black Friday. He says he doesn’t want to shop, but wants to “see the chaos.” Not a chance, kiddo. Not if it’s up to me. Now if La Petite wants to take him…that’s another story.

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