Miss You, Mom

What is it about her birthday that jogs so many memories? Probably that she loved celebrating it. And enjoyed saying that everyone in the world celebrated on this day, her day. Happy birthday, Mom, you were a character. The 78 years you were here could barely contain your story.

Alamo, North Dakota. My best guess is 1947 or '48. Mom's in the middle in some sort of equestrian get-up, with her sister Mamie to the right and their friend Mona to the left. In front of grandma and grandpa's house. I have to mention the white picket fence, don't I?

With brother Scott, spring or summer 1956, which would place this pic in Denver. Scott is so entranced with that stick of gum he has dropped the toy that had been clutched in his toddler fist.

July 1980. My parents giving marriage, to each other, that is, a second shot. They look so damn happy. In less than three years they would be divorced again.

With her brother Ken in 2002. So many familiar objects in and on top of the cabinet behind them.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Allison Nash

Accompanied by the amazing Holiday Jam band. Enjoy.

The Anthropology of Mom

After spending several days over Christmas with both of my sons, there is a new thing about motherhood that has occurred to me. I look at them and see what wonderful, kind, thoughtful young men they have become. So wholly themselves and comfortable and confident in who they are that I wonder how I had anything at all to do with bringing them into the world. I marvel at this discovery. And feel all the warmer inside when they grin at me and call me mom and hug me. 
                                                                         

The Morning of the Solstice Party

Guests are arriving at 3 this afternoon. I have a pot of chili to prepare. There is cat barf on the living room carpet. Three bathrooms must be polished to company standards. I am still in my pajamas. At least I already made my bed. Let the frenzied party prep commence!!

Terry Gilliam Wishes

It would be another five or so years after this animated greeting that I first became aware of Monty Python, et al. This man is a twisted genius. Enjoy.

Gone Missing

See Santa in his sleigh? With those adorable flying reindeer? And the crescent moon hanging in the night sky? Use your imagination. Work with me here. The thing is, when I unpacked all the Santas and put them out on display earlier this month, this guy was nowhere to be found. Did I pack it away so thoroughly I can't find it? Or maybe I threw it away in a frenzy of post-holiday cleaning earlier this year. I have given up on locating him, tonight I declared that the decorating was complete and shoved the red and green totes back under the stairs. With any luck he will turn up when it's time to pack things away.

The Wisdom of Edward Hoagland

This certainly was not the driving force behind ending my twenty year marriage. But it most definitely has been the result! 

Many divorces are not really the result of irreparable injury but involve, instead, a desire on the part of the man or woman to shatter the setup, start out from scratch alone, and make life work for them all over again. They want the risk of disaster, want to touch bottom, see where the bottom is, and, coming up, to breathe the air with relief and relish again.

Setup shattered? Check. Start from scratch alone? Check. Made life work all over again, risked disaster, found the bottom? Check, check, and check. It's not all that long since I surfaced after exploring the bottom to all its murky boundaries. I am relishing the sweetness of the air that fills my lungs. Still a ways to shore, but manageable. I have no idea what waits for me there but this transformative journey has been worth the time and effort. 

Holiday Jam 6

First and foremost it was a most entertaining and excellent musical extravaganza.

I caught up with Jeremy during intermission. It was time to present him with a fabulous, hand-made, one-of-a-kind gift.

And here we have it in all its freakish splendor! The year old dinner bun of infamy!

Weird gifts are the best, that's what I always say. Jeremy seems to agree.

I'm still not certain as to whether this bauble is beautiful in its hideousness or hideous in a beautiful way. Let's just say that remarkable things can be accomplished with a dremel tool, a hot glue gun, various craft supplies, and a twisted imagination.

Of Beer and Men

Last night I was waiting in the beverage line during intermission. This venue is very much hit and miss as far as beer selection goes. Why limit myself to beer, you might ask. Well. When I'm driving I'm much more comfortable having a beer than a mixed drink when I have a fixed time in which to metabolize its alcohol content. Why not wine, you might further inquire. Well. I just can't enjoy wine out of a plastic cup. The plastic-y nature of the container spoils the bouquet for me, it overwhelms the taste of the wine. I do like a little wine buzz, mind you, but the pleasure of sipping the deliciousness is a big part of the experience for me. Lacking that, the buzz becomes pointless. When I got to the front of the line it turned out that the beer situation was a miss. All light beers with the lone exception being Budweiser. No thank you. And how does this correlate to men? It occurs to me that I make similar choices when faced with the current availability options in these particular areas. I am well acquainted with my preferences and dealbreakers. Which means that I would prefer to pass on an opportunity if it doesn't measure up. I'd rather be buzzless and alone than drunk and disappointed. If you aren't familiar with my standards where a man is concerned, you can read them here. As far as beers go, I adore Scottish ales or a nice seasonal brew on the darker side. I have yet to meet an Octoberfest style I didn't take to. Leinenkugal's various shandies appeal to me as does a standard bock style like the one Shiner makes. I just don't have the time or patience for what I already know I don't care for. Men. Beer. I like what I like yet remain open to new possibilities.     

Leave Meme Alone!

So this meme shows up on my Facebook feed. I wasn't familiar with the person who posted it and wondered why it was there. It seems that a mutual friend had liked the post so that was why I had the privilege of reading the following:

Say this slow...GOD I Love YOU and I Need YOU NOW!!! If You Meant It Repost & A Miracle Will Happen Tonight. Ignore and All Will Go Wrong.

It reminded me of a chain letter. Yes, children, before the internets existed and snail mail was the primary form of communication, there was this phenomenon known as the chain letter. There was usually a promise of wonderful, miraculous things coming your way in the body of the letter. Then toward the bottom you were warned that failure to send copies of the letter to a dozen friends would result in personal catastrophe. If you sent the letters, good fortune and riches were yours. Unmitigated bullshit, if you ask me. I typically responded by tossing any that I received in the trash. So. The comment field beckoned. I typed that I seriously disliked the mostly innocuous sentiment followed by a less than veiled threat. She responded in a somewhat disjointed fashion. I replied:

I think it's difficult to separate out your intended positive message from the negative end. The full meaning still comes across.

I felt like we had a civil discussion. I made my point, she made hers. Then an hour or so ago I had a private message from a man whose name was a little familiar. We have four mutual friends. He proceeded to rip me a new one over the way I had abused his friend! Shaming me for mistreating her, who, by the way, has a very sick child and hasn't slept much. Apparently the post was an entreaty for God's intervention to help her sick child. He then went on to say that he gets back here sometimes and then we can have an argument about theology. It was a threatening and angry message. I have some points to make. First, I am a mother and my heart goes out to anyone who has a critically ill child. Second, I believe in the power of collective prayer but I think it's odd, perhaps even counterproductive to ask for positive vibes by tossing out a negative one. Third, if you have a problem with me, air it in a civil public post rather than a threatening private message. And finally, the guy is three states away but I was pretty creeped out. He has been blocked.

Throw Back!

Toddler me aged one and a half years. With big brother Scott. This was taken at Grandma and Grandpa Ruud's house in Williston. The photo doesn't reveal what was probably a lutefisk laden atmosphere. Uff da. I love that you can see my mom's and Aunt Mamie's high school graduation pictures under the tree. I seem to be practicing walking, a relatively recently acquired skill. Scott seems to be engrossed in whatever is on television, the tv is just out of frame to the right. I remember being fascinated with the bubbler lights on the tree. I have no idea what is gripped in my chubby little right hand but I appear rather purposeful about taking it somewhere. Suddenly I'm craving Grandma's date filled cookies. And lefse. 
   
After conferring with cousin Cory, this is likely the grandparents' house in Alamo. They moved to Williston probably in 1960, a year or two after this picture was taken.

Shades of Calvin & Hobbes

Tomorrow!

Holiday Jam. Brookings edition. Tomorrow at 7pm at the Swiftel Center. Be there! All the cool people will be. Yes, that includes you.

Early Present

Heather was cleaning out some stuff and came across this lone wine glass. She knows how much I love cobalt glass so she rescued it for me! This is now my wine goblet of choice for this holiday season. Thanks, Heather!

Helpful Holiday Visuals

Girls Posing in Decrepit Doorways

Me with my sissies in Kansas City

The similarity between this photo and this one crack me up. All this attitude leads me to believe that we may never be old enough to know better! What fun.

Wacky Weather

It's December 15th. It's 55 degrees outside and it's raining. Oh, and this is South Dakota. This is weird. Mind you if temps were normal for this time of year soon we would be shoveling this precip off the driveway. I'm all for the festive white Christmas but humbug on the shoveling already!

My obviously malfunctioning thermometer still reads 55 even though the rain has turned to snow. Bleah. Checking the local weather on the internets informs me that the current temperature is 27 degrees. Cue up White Christmas! 

It's the Bee's Knees

Shane made this drink for me last night. And it looked pretty much like the photo to the left. Excepting that it was served in the classic martini glass and had a slice of lemon floating in the center. It was delicious. A sipping drink like this makes moderation manageable. Enjoying it slowly is sine qua non. All I have to say is, so many martinis, so little time. 

Thursday Night With Jill

Speaking strictly in reference to myself, what kind of reasonable person begins with a Cosmopolitan, follows with a whole bunch of wine, then finishes up with beer, beer, and beer? I'm thinking the answer does not contain the word reasonable. Remarkably, with the exception of being short on sleep, I felt fine. The best thing with Jill is laughing so hard that I'm in danger of coughing up a tonsil. Good thing I haven't had tonsils since I was five. I think this is an excellent example of preventive medicine.

Cruel Fancy Dress

Saw this today and I thought (yes, I think occasionally and it was not painful) this would be an excellent holiday party dress idea for Miss Tallulah! Due to the fact that she does not bend in the middle and is not able to sit she is this household's best candidate for wearing a skirt consisting of pine needles. Okay, and the fact that she isn't actually alive and therefore does not feel pain helps, too. She doesn't suffer for fashion. Wonder where I can get some cruel shoes to go with it. Hmmm.

Belly Laugh for Today

Merry Cat-mas

The Anti-Scrooge

So it's Monday, right? And the landline rings. It's a Verizon rep in the customer loyalty department. Yes, Virginia, it seems that they do, indeed, have a department devoted to customer loyalty. He was calling to tell me about a new plan they are offering that cuts my monthly bill to nearly half of what it currently is. Sign me up! One of the things I work at is not being suspicious when something good happens out of the blue. That there has to be a downside, that old catch 22 lurking around the corner. I am choosing to embrace this windfall free from anxiety or doubt. Just don't call me during the day unless you're also on Verizon, I've just gone from unlimited talk to 700 minutes per month. Feel free to text, that's still unlimited. Yes, Virginia, Santa Claus is real!

Gettin' Ready

For some gluten free cooking and baking!

And snacking!

Since I last cooked for my elder son, he has been diagnosed with celiac disease. Which means I need to include gluten free options in my holiday cooking. For the most part Christmas day dinner will fit the bill with little alteration. But I thought it would be fun to rework some favorites like lemon bars and corn muffins so Michael would be included in the gastronomic celebration. After shopping with gluten free on my mind, I have discovered that wheat and wheat byproducts are ubiquitous! You have to become a serious label reader. I am grateful that bacon is gluten free.

Friday the Fifth

1. Dusk at this latitude arrives at precisely 4:48 pm, CST. I know this because that is when my outside lights come on, with the timer set to come on at dusk.

2. Since we are still sixteen days from the Solstice, dusk may arrive earlier tomorrow. 

3. We are a mere twelve days from the Brookings Edition of Holiday Jam 6!

4. Sam Adams Winter Lager is delicious.

5. I had a highly successful shopping expedition to Sioux Falls yesterday! 

6. Referring to Item 5, any shopping trip to SF is made that much better by a downtown lunch break with Jill.

7. I am celebrating the arrival of the first Christmas card! From dear lil' sis Martine. 

8. Referring to Item 1, I accomplished the deployment of the outdoor decorations this afternoon. 

9. Indoor decorations continue to evolve, supplemented by Item 4 and with the background filled in by holiday music and movies.

10. Despite oversleeping this morning, it has been a rather productive day, kickstarted by an early lunch date with the adorable JT Phlaan.

Leftovers

. 

Well! It's certainly too late to take this stuff down now. Because then I'd just have to put it back up again. Procrastination is my friend.

White on White

The view from my patio door. What could the cats possibly be getting all worked up over? 

Hello, Monday

It was a mismatched dishes sort of morning.

New Glasses Blues

I love my new glasses! Though it seems, alas, that they do not love me. At approximately two hours of wearing time I develop a massive headache. If I take them off at the first sign I'm fine. If I go longer, it's a three Advil sort of night. I don't know about you, but I'm not willing to suffer even though I look totally fabulous in them. Bleah.

In Praise of the Turkey Carcass

Beginnings of the soup of the day, turkey vegetable!

A post-dinner, Thanksgiving afternoon conversation with Holly. We are sitting in her kitchen.

Me: (indicating turkey carcass with envy) Oh, you can make the best soup with that!

Holly: That? I was going to throw it away! Do you want it?

Me: (astonished at this wonderful and unexpected turn of events) Heck, yeah!

Tis The Season for Deliciousness

Back in the days when I read as many as seventy daily newspapers every week at my job, I was a serious recipe clipper. Most of them went in a file folder and were never whipped up in my kitchen. From among the ones that I did prepare, only a half dozen or so made it into the regular rotation of dishes I serve. Sometimes I tinkered with the original recipe to the point that they were an entirely different thing. One of those is pictured above. A little holiday delicacy I call Lemon Cranberry Bread. When I clipped the recipe it was called something like Edible Fruit Cake. A nod of sorts to the much maligned holiday fruitcake, which by many is considered a treat to avoid at all cost. In that regard the word treat is applied ironically, particularly when you consider the wide array of much more desirable actual treats. The original recipe called for all kinds of candied fruits that I didn't care for and eventually I settled on a blend of just three add-ins that I liked the best for their compatibility and the textural variety they lend to the finished product. The base is a very rich and dense lemony cake that holds up well to the addition of fruit and nuts. The recipe follows. I insist that you enjoy.


Lemon Cranberry Holiday Bread

1 pound butter, brought to room temperature yes, really, an entire pound 
2 1/3 cups sugar
6 eggs I am so fortunate to have fresh farm eggs from my friend Karen
1/3 cup lemon juice preferably fresh squeezed
4 cups unbleached flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon sea salt

Approximately 2 cups of fruit and nuts, combined in a bowl with 4 Tablespoons flour and set aside. My favorite combination is 1 10 oz bag of Craisins, 8 oz chopped dates, 1 1/2 cups chopped pecans. I use mini loaf pans because I have never been able to get a full size loaf to bake properly. The batter is so dense that the outside gets overdone while a tunnel of raw goo remains in the center.

Thoroughly blend the butter and sugar. I use my KitchenAid mixer. Add eggs one at a time and allow each one to incorporate completely before adding the next. Add the lemon juice. Combine flour, baking powder and salt together and add. Mix until the batter is creamy and smooth. Add fruit and nuts and fold in by hand. Divide into 8 mini loaf pans that are greased and I recommend lining the bottom with parchment paper. Place loaf pans on a cookie sheet and bake at 300 degrees for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Allow to cool for about 15 minutes before removing from pans.

Dear Jarlsberg

I don't know quite how to say this, but I've found a new favorite cheese. You've done nothing wrong, in fact, you have been more than wonderful, and we've had a long and lovely time together. But I have grown as a turophile and have greater expectations from my fromage. I find that I derive greater satisfaction from a more edgy flavor profile and a firmer texture. And it's not so much that Gruyere is better than you, just different. Don't cry, Jarlsberg, we'll always have Oslo.

If You Dare!

Six Weeks

I'm pretty sure Amelia*, who cuts my hair, doesn't read my blog. Three weeks ago I went in for a serious trim and to blend in my too-long bangs with the the rest of my longer hair with the intention of growing them out. Something like three weeks prior to my haircut they were too long. My bangs. So I had started kind of pushing them off to the left with pretty okay results. The latest attempt at growing out my bangs was off to a great start. Then something happened to me yesterday involving the need to wear a hat due to the sudden onslaught of winterish weather and my too-long-to-be-bangs, too-short-to-be-not-bangs and their lack of cooperation pushed me to the limit and I trimmed them! Hello, bangs, I missed you! I don't know what I was thinking to try to abandon you! I totally own the bangs look! Not to mention that I'm quite amazed that the attempt lasted six weeks. I might just be developing a modicum of self control. But don't hold your breath.


*And even if she does, as a hair-bending professional I'm sure she has noticed that I whack at my hair between appointments. And that I color my hair at home. She is just too smooth and wonderful to mention it. Is this where I should say that I love Aveda products even though I can only afford to buy them a couple of times a year?

All Better

Last night I had one of those moments. Where a memory is unexpectedly triggered and I saw a little glimmer of light. It went like this. I had settled in to watch Playing By Heart. Glass of wine, a cozy throw, my feet up on the ottoman with a kitty snuggled up nearby. If you haven't seen this movie, I recommend it. One of those multi-storyline with everything coming together and making sense at the end sort of plots. So I'm not going to say much and spoil it for you. Oh, Jon Stewart is in it. And I sort of adore him. Sean Connery is in it, too, and I adore him, but this is all about Jon. At a critical point, Meredith (Gillian Anderson) utters his character's name. Trent. I had to back up just to hear it one more time. And I sat there bemused for a moment. I expect that the last time I viewed Playing By Heart was over a year ago, well before Trent entered my life. That's when the glimmer happened. I was perfectly fine with my much adored Jon Stewart bearing a former beau's name in a movie. No pang, no awwww, no nothing. The sound of his name had no power over me. Once again I have tripped and fallen into romantic entanglement, picked myself up, brushed myself off, and survived. I'm all better. 
                                                                                    

A Tradition Worth Preserving

Say Cheese!

I know, I know, the current phase is supposed to be devoted to downsizing and getting rid of stuff! We are not in accumulation mode! Except when a cheese plate hollers at me from a shelf. I ignore it and move on to the next aisle. Then circle around again and pick it up. It's only six bucks! So I bought it. Now I have to find something I can part with to make way for this purchase. In order to maintain the non-accumulatory status. Sometimes my life feels like a trip to Bethselamin.

Love My Sissies!

Texting on the phone with Miss Martine. Messaging on Facebook with Miss Pam. At the same time. This is multi-tasking at its most enjoyable.

Monday Chuckle

They won't let me upload their video, so please watch it here. You're welcome! I have never been so proud to be half Norwegian. And this almost makes up for the lutefisk.

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors?

I live in a medium-sized, midwestern college town. Without the presence of South Dakota State University, Brookings would be something of a cultural desert. Aside from providing the obvious entertainments through the production of plays and concerts, SDSU also brings in speakers from the worlds of politics and publishing. Authors, journalists, artists, and those who dwell inside the beltway arrive as guest lecturers and routinely fill the house. The South Dakota Art Museum is ensconced on the western edge of campus. But my favorite haunt is McCrory Gardens, SDSU's botanical gardens and arboretum. Wide expanses of barefoot quality grass studded with themed areas and gorgeous mass plantings of perennial and annual flowers. It is beyond beautiful. Peaceful. Rejuvenating to the mind and soul. Oh, and it's free. Has been since its inception. Rumors had been making the rounds recently that this was soon to change. In the last few weeks a very attractive six foot high, black iron fence has sprung up around McCrory's sixty-plus acres, ensuring that all who visit must enter and exit through the visitor's center. Personally, I am of the thought that the gardens should remain open to the public and free of charge. I am also of the thought that the thousands of dollars invested in the fancy fence could have gone a long way toward maintenance costs. Today I signed an online petition meant to help keep the gardens free for any and all who visit. If you have toured McCrory Gardens, or hope to when you visit Brookings in the future, maybe you should consider signing the petition as well. Robert Frost made a good case for fence building in Mending Wall, but to isolate McCrory Gardens from this community only serves to divide with offense. Pun intended.
                                                              

I Miss Carl Sagan

From his 1995 book, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. I think there are too many broadcast hours to fill on too many media outlets. Rendering lots of repeats. Whether the content is the least bit substantive in nature. I tuned out of pretty much everything but National Public Radio so long ago I feel blessedly unaware of so much cacophony. I try to catch the broadcast of Big Bang Theory most weeks, but that is dependent upon me remembering that it's Thursday and that I can get a decent, non-pixilated signal. Not to mention that BBT was on Mondays for a few weeks, completely throwing off my schedule. I opted out of cable tv twelve years ago and can't say I have missed it. I wonder why cable seems like a necessity to so many. But then I look at what's in other peoples' grocery carts, too, and wonder the same thing. I will own up to a mild addiction to Netflix and am quite happy to own dvds of many of my favorite movies. What would happen if everyone just stopped watching and read a newspaper every day? Smartening up seems like a much better alternative to dumbing down.

Winter Begins

Aqua Net Memory

When I hear the words Aqua Net hairspray, a certain olfactory memory zooms to the front of my brain. It is the 70's, children. My mother wore her hair in a swept up French roll which she sprayed into place with a generous top coat of Aqua Net. It had this solvent-like scent that could travel through walls with incredible speed. I swear I could smell it three rooms away before I heard her pop the cap off the can. Which brings us to yesterday. When I heard the term Aqua Net bangs for the very first time. Without Googling up an image I knew precisely what they were talking about. Just for fun I Googled anyway, and was treated to this. Immediately I thought of a woman whom I have known for thirty or so years. And she still wears her hair the very same way she did back then. Observe her bangs.

This was on a relatively calm day, hairwise. Probably soon after a haircut. My memory is that when she would complain that her hair was much too long and in need of a trim, her bangs were at least twice this high. She continued to crimp and spray them into a mostly vertical position as they grew out. She left in her wake the distinctive smell of Aqua Net. I point this out not to be bitchy, because suddenly it feels as though I am being pretty bitchy, petty even. I point this out because we are all survivors of questionable hairstyles. Particularly those from the 80's. I personally am still in recovery from those dark times before good anti-frizz, curl-taming products were available. But most of us move on to commit new and interesting and perhaps even more regrettable crimes of coiffure. Maybe it makes sense to stick with what you know. The only real advantage to changing up the style is that I can accurately date a photo by how my hair looks. 

Seems Obvious to Me...

"I only paint them because they're cheaper than models and they don't move."

Red Hills With Flowers

Happy birthday, Georgia O'Keeffe. I love your giant flowers. And I am so with you on being absolutely terrified every single moment of your life but not letting it get in the way of what you wanted to do. 

Tell 'Em, Bernie!

Well Documented

So I'm wading into this project. And I keep getting distracted by things I forgot I had. 

Like this. The certificate from my mother's baptism when she was just over three months old. There is no need to adjust your screen or clean your glasses. It looks a little odd because it's in Norwegian.

Also from 1932, Mom's baby picture. All I have to say is, great smile, even better hat.

Fourth grade Edna had perfect attendance.

In case you were thinking that making a big fuss over every single passage from one thing to another is a new fad, in 1945, in Alamo, North Dakota, fancy certificates were handed out for elementary school graduation. I do not know what sort of ceremony may have accompanied the distribution of this honor. And if it was for the same number of students that made up her graduating class four years later, there were ten kids involved. A little fuss on the prairie, if you ask me.

Carpe Brewem!

Everyone who loves beer should attend a craft beer expo. I confirmed that my palate preference leans toward amber and Scottish ales. And I have yet to meet an Octoberfest style beer that I haven't liked. I also have a fondness for a great number of seasonal brews. I felt like a bit of a rookie when I asked the guy next to me at the cheese sampling booth why he was wearing a string of pretzels around his neck. For future reference, remember that the pretzels are nibbled between beer samples to clear the palate. Thankfully we were not asked to merely swish and spit the beer, we actually got to drink it. There were strategically placed buckets and water dispensers. This was a good thing for a few samples that did not agree with my taste buds. Everyone got the cute tiny glass to the right as they entered. There is a 2 oz line marked on it, I expect for sample rationing purposes, but most vendors poured generously. The Carpe Brewem glass was given to me by the nice young man at this booth. It was a lovely afternoon.