HIATUS

Things right now in the world are so overwhelming, it is getting more difficult for me to be bright and entertaining. I am taking a little “vacation” from my columns for a while. Peace and love!

TOUGH TIMES

Times are bad right now. Fires, cold, tragedies everywhere.

I look for things to make me feel better.

Lots of folks on social media are telling about how comforting it is to make chicken soup. They list their recipes, which involve a chicken or chicken bones, water, and vegetables. I have tried making chicken soup so many times, even substituting chicken broth for the water, and my soup is always virtually tasteless.

What about making chili? My husband hates my chili; he says it’s too loose. Other comfort foods are roast chicken (mine is either undercooked or too dry), macaroni and cheese (WAY too much trouble with the roux and grating all that cheese), spaghetti and meatballs, which I do well with Rao’s and Trader Joe’s chicken meatballs–but my husband is sick and tired of it. Sick and tired.

Bypassing the comfort food, people recommend staying busy. I have tried that, and this week I touched up the dings in my baseboards, got on a ladder and used Dawn Power Spray to clean the big grease spot above the stove. I Swiffed every damn surface in the house. I binge watched 20 episodes of 48 Hours. This was Monday. Tuesday dawned and I couldn’t come up with anything, and I realized that I should have spaced out the busy things.

Books. Read the books. I made a bad choice and checked out a book about men in the trenches during WWI, and that made me feel worse. Cheerful books seem hard to come by, and for heaven’s sake, I checked out A Little Life, which nearly killed me. The man on the cover should have been a hint, but the title sounded so innocuous…

I like to imagine that during tough times, people sit by the fire with cups of tea, chatting or playing cards. They wear shawls over their shoulders, eat lavender lozenges, and remain calm. I don’t love tea, we live in this apartment with no fireplace, and my husband strongly dislikes games. I do have a shawl. Lavender tastes like cough medicine in my opinion. My husband has never been one to sit down to a nice chat. So there you are. Just me and my shawl.

Here is what I have found to be effective. I go to bed early, ask my cat Hattie to join me, and we scroll Instagram for pictures of Taylor and Travis. This works for me and thousands of women all over the globe.

 

 

 

HOW TO HELP

Here is a website giving multiple organizations you can support to help fire victims in Los Angeles:

http://supportlafd.kindful.com

Airbnb has homes for victims and is accepting donations  http://www.airbnb.com

You can call The Red Cross at 800-733-2767 or text the word CAWILDFIRES to 90999 to make a donation.

Another source:

https://www.billboard.com/music/music-news/la-wildfires-how-to-help-donate-relief-organizations-list-1235874389/

For pets:  http://www.bestfriends.org

SNOWMAGEDDON

We have been hearing for days about a huge snowstorm that is rumbling our way. Here in Dayton it was supposed to start 2 hours ago, and they are predicting 5-9 inches. So far, nothing has happened.

It must be coming, because they are getting a blizzard in Kansas City, and it is just a matter of time. However, I can’t even count the times this exact thing has happened, and we got nothing. We stock up on food, put on sweaters, and sit by the window, waiting.

If snow does come, it is tremendously exciting. Why, I don’t know, because all anyone can do is stay home. I guess people under 65 go out in it and revel in the beauty, but if one is over 65, we worry about slipping and falling and stay in. I know about the actual result of falling.

When we were visiting the family in Los Angeles for Christmas, I foolishly turned out the lights in the bedroom we were staying in and didn’t wait for my eyes to adjust. I did walk gingerly toward the bed, and it seemed as if it was right there. So I sat down. It was not right there. So I went from standing to falling on my rear in a nanosecond. Luckily, I did not fall on my glasses.

A day later, it seemed like I had a sore muscle in my left glute. No big deal. But that was two weeks ago. Now it feels like I have a hot poker in there whenever I take a step. It turns out that in this situation, according to Dr. Google, a fall like this results in small tears in the gluteal muscle. It can take up to 6 weeks for them to heal. Six weeks of the hot poking with each step. So that happened.

Back to the snow. I check the weather app every half hour. The onset has changed from 2 hours ago to this evening. When this happens, my husband says that all the prognosticators are simply liars, and that nothing will happen. He is usually right.

So my buttock and I are losing hope for a magical snow day, and now I am not only in gluteal pain, but disappointment. My husband just asked me what I think I would do if it didn’t start snowing immediately and drop all those inches on the balcony.

I told him that all of the macaroni and cheese and chicken noodle soup would lose their cachet. It would just be dinner. And in addition, I wouldn’t be able to commiserate with all of my social media “friends” about how awful the snow is. I would have enormous FOMO.

He rolled his eyes.

 

 

 

 

THINGS I DID ON CHRISTMAS VACATION

This is my favorite tree in the neighborhood we used to live in. It’s a classic.

We went to Los Angeles for Christmas with our daughter and her family. We did a lot of things.

We went to a Christmas walk in the dark, and for the first time in years, I had no trouble doing it, since I no longer have cataracts. What an experience to walk and actually see the ground.

We ate so many calories, I think I may have gained 40 lbs. from the danishes, the cookies, the spaghetti and meatballs, the coffee coated chocolate balls, the cookies, and the cookies. This is the truth: when I got home, I could not face the candy we got from friends. I threw it out. WOW

We went to the Slime Museum. It was so much fun. We each made a slime of our own. I made mine blue and scented it like Ginger Ale. My granddaughter Birdie was very brave and got slimed all by herself. Slime is not edible, but I think it must not be poisonous, because even I was tempted to taste some. I can’t be the only one.

We went to church, where our grandson and granddaughter were Joseph and Mary in the pageant. Mary had no lines, but when the innkeeper said they could stay in the barn, Mary ad libbed, “Sure!”

The magnetic letters spelling out Merry Christmas on the garage door got changed to Cherry Smartims again this year. We think we know who the culprit is; his name is Charles Campbell. It may become a tradition. I guess it already is one.

We drove around to see the Christmas lights in Burbank. It was spectacular. We figure that all those lighting technicians who work on movie sets have both the talent and the access to technology that just doesn’t exist in Dayton, Ohio.

It is as warm here as it was there. Global warming is all too real. We Americans may have to shift our cultural association with snow and Christmas to shorts and Christmas. Coats–what will happen to the coat industry, I wonder?

I had a cold before I left, and then got another one while there. It is possible, according to Doctor Google. I have so far consumed two bottles of Robitussin. Wait: They say you need extra calories when you are sick, so maybe I only gained 30 lbs. from the cookies…

Happy New Year.

Here is little Birdie getting slimed:

 

HOLIDAY

As I have said before, if it’s a documentary, I have seen it. Some are so educational, like the ones about Orthodox Jewish households, in which I feel so sorry for the mothers who have to do so much work. The one about Passover Pesach rituals made me very tired for these women. They have to move all the appliances and wash and bleach behind them, wipe down the walls and take everything out of their cupboards to clean them, and search the entire house for leavened bread crumbs. They cover their microwaves, take their toaster ovens out into the garage. Some of them even exchange their stoves for special ones they keep in the garage just for Passover. There is more, but you get it.

Christmas is also put on by women, who do all the decorating, gift buying, wrapping, and baking. I myself have never made a Christmas cookie, because I am, I guess, a less than exemplary homemaker. But my older daughter makes up for this by being Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, and Julia Child rolled into one. I am going to her house for Christmas, and so I get to soak all of that in while sitting on her sofa.

I watched a YouTube video about a darling German couple living in Britain. They have no children, but they do all the things, both British and German, for the holidays. I have to admit that I was a bit taken aback by their “traditional German” Christmas Eve dinner, which consisted of, and I kid you not, boiled hot dogs (they called them sausages), but they were dead ringers for Oscar Meyer weiners, and potato salad that had both apples and tomatoes in it. Also parsley and mustard, as I recall. Boiled hot dogs. Boiled.

There was another, I guess you could call it a documentary, but it was also on YouTube, about women in Hollywood getting extreme plastic surgery just in time for Christmas. One woman wanted to, and really, I am serious, “have the biggest buttocks on record.” They were unbelievable. So unbelievable that I had to call my husband in to watch her walk down the street, and he blanched.

On the “home” channels, they feature all the designers’ homes decked out for Christmas. They all have houses festooned in literally THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS worth of decorations. Of course, they have teams that come in to decorate for them. I can’t imagine one of them mounting a ladder to attach lights to their molding. Also, they all seem to then have huge holiday parties where some sort of special pomegranate or pear flavored cocktail is served to their friends wearing tartan.

I think the concept of Christmas goose sounds really traditional and festive, but I bet it would taste gamey. It’s turkey all the way for us.  A friend’s nephews, when they were small, dubbed their turkey dinner “the Holiday Chicken.” That sounds delicious.

Happy Holidays to all of you out there. I will be back after Christmas.

 

LUMPING

I have coughed five thousand times in the past week. I have little energy.

Why is it that when you have a “significant” cold, things like walking from one room to the other become almost insurmountable?

And the sore throat. On fire. I went to my social media friends to ask for sore throat remedies, and I got so many suggestions. As I posted this at midnight, I could not implement any of them, because I was in the dark in my pajamas. I thought the suggestions I would get would be to utilize stuff I had on hand, like honey. Yes, honey was suggested, and it did nothing for my throat. But I got some very interesting ideas for future sore throats

  • Eat three (no more, no less) marshmallows
  • Use propolis, which I do not know what that is
  • Gargle with vinegar, which sounds sore throat inducing
  • Suck on root turmeric (What??)
  • Take a shot of bourbon
  • Oregano tablets-there are oregano tablets?

You get the picture. But the sore throat subsided on its own.

Then, yesterday, I got the deep chest cough. You know the one–it is ok as long as you are vertical. You cough, and then stop. But LIE DOWN and you are doomed to a cough cycle that never ends. Thus, no sleep for you! I have to admit that I texted a friend last night at 1:45, and she answered. And she doesn’t have a cold at the moment. I felt better that I was not the only person sitting in the dark at 1:45.

After two cups of tea and honey, with no respite lying down, I got up again and emailed my doctor. At 4:15. I pleaded for help, but prayed that he wouldn’t answer right then, because 4:15. I stared out the window for a few minutes, remembered to “feed a cold,” and had an English muffin. That was delicious, and I didn’t cough once while eating it. So I went back to bed.

We have the “old people” bed, the one made up of two single mattresses that you can lower and raise at will. I configured my side sort of like a recliner, and finally dozed off.

So today, I am sick and tired. I have no “get up and go” anywhere inside me. So I am lumping. Sagging into the sofa in a heap and staying there with not a glimmer of desire to do even the simplest of tasks. I gave myself a full-on pep talk in order to shuffle to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I hope I will have the wherewithal to stumble into the tv room to watch a Christmas movie, but people in movies walk around so much. It’s exhausting to watch all that bustling.

My doctor did answer my email this morning, like a well person who sleeps all night long. He told me, and this is verbatim, to “try not to cough.” He did prescribe a cough medicine, however, that precipitated a call from the pharmacist, who cautioned that this particular formula might make me very sleepy. Apparently, if one is over 65, one must take the syrup while already in bed, it’s that strong.

I cannot wait until tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FEED A COLD

I am fatigued. My nose is on the verge of a sneeze all the damn time. I was going to put up some Christmas decorations today. I got so far as taking the pumpkin off the dining table, then I crashed. You know that tickle in your throat? The one that instantly hurts the minute you cough? I have that. My eyes ache behind my eyeballs.

But I have a cold, not covid. I tested negative. (Swabbing nostrils hurts, and in the midst of the swabbing, I sneezed.)

I found a soup recipe with cabbage, potatoes, and Kielbasa. We are not meat (only poultry) eaters, and so my husband made what we both thought would be very hearty, cold-fighting, soup. But the turkey smoked sausage did nothing, I repeat, nothing in the way of flavoring the broth. So we had pallid cabbage and potato soup. It didn’t even soothe my throat on the way down. Apparently, pallid cabbage soup isn’t medicinal quality.

Artificial Intelligence informed me that being sick requires a caloric upgrade, and this is the best news I have gotten in a long time. Did you know that you need extra calories when you are sick? I spent almost all day in bed, so now my back hurts. I got up and chatted Gpt with the AI, and found out that the old “saw” about feeding a cold is actually true. You need more calories when you are sick.

I am that fortunate individual who almost never loses my appetite. So this feeding thing turning out to prove that old wives never lied made me so happy. I can eat an extra snack. So I am sitting here, typing and eating a Killer Dave’s organic English muffin at two in the morning. With English Breakfast tea.

As soon as I finish this, I am going back to bed, because writing this post with food on the side has not given me the huge burst of energy I was expecting. I need to tune up my “feed a cold” game. Tomorrow I am sending my husband out for pizza.

Feed a cold. Starve a fever.

 

 

THANKSGIVING FACTS

I have done some research into what really happened on that first Thanksgiving. We have no idea.

  • Originally, Thanksgiving was a day of fasting. This was probably because the Pilgrims were ignorant about how to survive in the “New World.” The Native Americans had to help them, and maybe that first time they didn’t feel like showing the Pilgrims how to do anything.
  • When they got around to feasting, after the first fasting day, the Native Americans did show the ignorant Pilgrims how to cook stuff. There was no turkey. Instead, there were swans and lobsters. Pumpkin pie was unheard of at that time. I wish it were still unheard of.
  • There were only FOUR women at the first Thanksgiving. This explains the swans and the lobsters.
  • Squanto was the interpreter for the Native Americans to the Pilgrims. I bet Squanto isn’t popular among Native Americans today.
  • Jingle Bells was originally a Thanksgiving song. Really. Google it.
  • We don’t stuff turkey any more because it isn’t safe, despite the fact that the entire generation of Baby Boomers grew up eating stuffed turkey, and nobody died from that.
  • The first Thanksgiving feast was actually in 1621 in San Elizario, Texas. It consisted mostly of fish. (I am thankful that this didn’t become an American tradition, as I gag whenever I smell salmon).
  • They didn’t have forks at the first Thanksgiving. I guess they ate those swans with spoons and their fingers. I suppose the Pilgrims were pretty hungry, so eating swans with their fingers was due to starvation. It was the Wampanoag Indian tribe who assisted with the swans. They also had eels. Really, those Pilgrims must have been totally starving.
  • TV dinners were invented because there were so many leftovers that the Swanson Company was made aware of this, and they saw a niche opportunity to invent those frozen dinners on the aluminum trays. Wow. I wonder who called them and told them they just couldn’t deal with all of that cold turkey on Friday?
  • The average number of calories consumed on Thanksgiving is 4,500. It is a wonder that any of us survive the coma that follows the meal. And yet, Americans feel the need for dessert afterwards. This may be why it is usually pumpkin pie, which the majority of Americans polled reported that they hate.
  • Turkeys can have heart attacks. The article I read said “Nobody knows why.” Duh. It’s because they are stressed about their impending slaughter.
  • A lot of folks make macaroni and cheese for a Thanksgiving side. Frankly, I can’t imagine eating mac and cheese on the same plate as gravy. It must just be me.
  • The original Thanksgiving lasted 3 days. There were probably no leftovers, which is why there aren’t swan TV dinners.
  • “Good china” is used at Thanksgiving. Along with the “good silver,” which all of us Baby Boomers keep around, taking up space, just for the two times a year we use it. This is because our adult children (Which gen are they? Z? Millenials? I get very confused about the gens) insist on tradition, and yet when asked if they WANT the good china or good silver, the response is always a resounding no.

Happy Thanksgiving.

POST ELECTION RAGE COOKING

Disclaimer: if you are a Republican, read at your own risk

 

If I don’t want to mince the goddamn garlic, to hell with it. I will cut it up  as I see fit.

Any recipe that calls for “finely chopping” should be outlawed. Rough chopping is good enough for anybody in America at the moment. We deserve things to be roughly chopped, by God. There are a LOT of things I would like to chop roughly right now. Oh, yeah. The broccoli will be in great  big chunks. Big enough to choke say, Laura Loomer.

Grate the f*ing cheese? Grate? What’s wrong with the stuff already grated? It’s good enough for just over half of the electorate. Let them grate their own cheese, if it’s so important! Hit the block of cheese with a hammer. That ought to do it.

It’s a good thing this recipe doesn’t call for eggs, because a whole lot of people think the price of eggs is a tipping point, for crying out loud.

My God! Now I have to grate Parmesan! Parmesan comes from Italy. Is Italy in NATO? Well, they better be paying their fair share, or else, says the man who as far as I know, has never paid his fair share of anything.

Stir until bubbly. You know, the way rage comes to a boil and then simmers for four years. Stir in all that goddamn grated cheese, and let it melt, sort of like your optimism.

Not serving dessert. It would taste bitter.