Archives 2024

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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

What sounds like fun?

When I was unencumbered by marriage and family, fun was

• Dancing until totally sweaty, never getting exhausted
• Making out
• Driving around looking for fun
• And you know what the above fun refers to
• Eating carbs with no concern at all for ramifications
• Doing scary things, but not quite THAT scary, above ^
• Putting on elaborate eye makeup
• Staying up late, laughing with friends
• Sleeping in
• Knowing the words to all of the Bob Dylan songs
• Hiking
• That’s a lie; I have never thought hiking was fun
• Being in college
• Dating lots of men (in my case, “lots” is less than a dozen)
• Not needing Spanx
• Talking on the phone for hours
• Macaroni and cheese in a box

Now that I am way into my golden years, fun is a whole other thing:

• Wearing sweatpants
• Eating toast
• Texting instead of long winded phone conversations
• Door Dash
• Napping
• Laughing with friends, but they go home at nine
• Staying at home and not wearing makeup
• A new pair of Birkenstocks
• A new knee brace
• Binge-ing tv shows all by myself
• Napping
• Pedicures
• Comparing surgeries with friends
• No longer having to buy tampons
• Napping
• Being alive
• Having grandchildren
• Popcorn for lunch
• Napping

These days, if it is time for dinner and I make it, you don’t want to eat it. I have written about this before. My husband is the chef now.

The other night, I had found a recipe for “Cream Cheese Chicken,” which sounded delicious. It featured the cream cheese, along with white wine, dill, and chicken broth added to the chicken with some other stuff. I thought it looked relatively easy. To serve under it, I got some Rice A Roni, (The San Francisco Treat). It was nostalgic for me, as I used to make it all the time when I was the cook. Back in the day, when the dinners I made were totally nutritious and almost delicious.

The cream cheese chicken was much more laborious than it looked like on paper. It took Charlie over an hour to make, and in the process, he used at least three pots and every spatula we have, not to mention the measuring cups, mixing bowls, and utensils.

It was a triumph, really. Charlie’s cooking skills are now way up there. The sauce with the dill enhanced the delicate flavor of the chicken. There was also broccolini and salad.

When dinner was over, Charlie, as he snuffed out the candles, remarked “You know, Rice A Roni is complicated to make.”

RICE A RONI.

https://www.thekitchn.com/cream-cheese-chicken-recipe-23281115

What do people with insomnia do?

They get up, wander around the house, and sit alone in the dark, hoping that somehow, sleepiness will overcome them.

When that doesn’t happen, they scroll through their phone, look at all the Instagram photos, move over to places like Twitter, read stuff about the coming election, and fall into despair.

Then, if you are me, you turn your photo app on, and you take a shot like the one above.

Then you go back to bed and try to imagine what sleep is like.

This person most likely has a very important job. He’s a “stock” photo, but there are lots of people like this out there. Men and women who are decision makers, carriers of stress, makers of policy, and savers of lives.

I watch them on TV all the time. They wear Apple Watches, get into buildings using their fingerprints, and they eat standing up. They have drivers so they can do business on the way to work, because they live in huge cities with lots of traffic, so they use their time commuting wisely–getting ready to transplant organs, save a species, or control the markets of foreign countries. Some of them cause wars. Others stop them, or try to.

Here’s the thing about these people that I wonder. They probably don’t go home for long stretches, but when they are home, what do they do? Do they put on their pajamas the minute they walk in the door? Or do they have a brown drink poured into a crystal glass splashed from a cut glass decanter? Do they eat Cheetos ever? I know Taylor Swift makes pop tarts, but do any of the others  make their own snacks?

Do important people stay on alert all the time? Can they relax? How do they do this? I can’t imagine an important person taking a nap, for instance. They would keep getting interrupted by their phones binging. Do they ever do crafts? They must have the ability to immerse themselves in something that will take them out of themselves so completely that they can just focus on that thing and let the rest of the world go. So. I wonder if Bill Gates has ever used a pot holder loom.

Wouldn’t it be sort of great to be so important that you could see a problem and just pick up the phone and call another important person and get it solved, right on the spot? This must happen all the time, but we are just not aware of it, because we are not very important.

I would just once like to be so important that I could decide, for instance, that there should be more equality at the doctor’s office, and if they weigh you, you ought to be able to weigh the doctor. Who could I call to make that happen?

But actually, I am glad I am not important. I just don’t have the wardrobe for it.