Washcloths

Here's a dishcloth--it's straight off the needle. After the first time you use it, it straightens out properly into a square.



These are the honeycomb washcloths, pattern found here. I'm using stash yarn and posting my own pictures because the photo that goes with the pattern doesn't show the contrasting colors at all. The green one is smaller because I ran out of green.

purple and blue--a little washed out from the flash.





Yesterday went well. I got a project turned in and made some progress on another project. The kitchen is nearly under control and Penn State and I came to an agreement about how to handle the kids speech needs since even with their incredibly low costs ($40/50 minute session) I can't pay for 4 sessions a WEEK, which is what they were hoping for. They wanted one each for the twins (in addition to the English Language Group--the speech preschool, more money, although I'd never find another preschool at that cost) and two each for Max to address his stuttering. That would have averaged out to just under $800/month.

The director of the program offered 50% off of Max's therapy sessions and offered her opinion that Ben and Milo would probably be fine without the individual session -- they just have plenty of college students and Ben and Milo have some intellgibility issues that the kids could work with them on. But they've made good progress and she feels that its not crucial for them at all. Mostly she wants them to stay in the speech preschool. So that's what we'll do. Speech preschool for the twins and stuttering therapy for Max. This feels much more doable.

The conversation with her about the twins was fun. It's always pleasant hearing people say nice things about your kids and she had lots of nice things to say. She shared that they were getting a new space in a different building with lots more room and that they expected to expand the program so there were many more kids in it. She marveled at how recently interest in the program had exploded. I offered the opinion that the father of the other set of twins might be behind that as he's tapped into the Cooperative Preschool and that's a huge and chatty network of parents. If he let it slip that his daughters were getting two mornings of preschool a week for hundreds less than he was paying at the cooperative preschool, I'm guessing lots of parents suddenly had kids with speech delays ;)

Anyway, they're expanding the program to go through the summer, which is fine with me. I offered the opinion that I had to hope that they would keep some mild delays since they really love the preschool and I didn't want to put them elsewhere. She said that there isn't actually a requirement that the kids have delays -- they can score as developing normally because the program works the way it does because it gets these kids talking. Ben and Milo are the cruise directors of the group, coordinating imaginative play, modeling please and thank you with each other, (and how to stand up for yourself without coming to blows), welcoming any new child or adult that comes in, and just generally using their ability to never stop talking to great effect. In short, as long as I can keep paying them SOMETHING, Ben and Milo can stay.

That makes me feel great.

In other news, I admit, I'm second guessing myself on continuing to homeschool here. Maybe I should just after school Latin? The schools *are* supposed to be good. But I don't WANT him in public middle school at ALL, and I don't see how we could keep up with his other activities (piano twice a week, the sports, etc) if we had to work around those school hours.

I'm not sure what's bothering me about the current arrangement. Except that I always start to worry this time of year that he didn't learn enough. And by the end of school five months later, he's learned enough. I should order his ITBS for the year.

Back to work.

Quick Photo Blog

While my office is briefly at a point where it won't embarass me with its clutter, here are photos of it (and my stash). See the pretty new swift? I LOVE that. I've had the same painted-blue door over two filing cabinets desk for three years now. It could use a new coat of paint, but I'd want the same color blue again. High gloss.

On the far right is my math manipulatives stash. All those green and blue shelving thingies are full of different kinds of math manipulatives. I love that, too!


The ball winder that goes with the swift is in the front there on the edge of my desk.


These are the larger portions of my stash. Those three bottom buckets used to be full, but I've been good about knitting from my stash, and they're gone now except for one lonely skein of weird orange mohair that I haven't quite come up with a plan for yet.


This is the smaller portion of my stash. These are primarily orphans left over from projects past. I have a new washcloth pattern that is actually really pretty and fun to knit, so I'm turning some of the cotton into washcloths for birthday presents.

Well that didn't go as planned

Not that Monday usually does, but I admit I did expect a bit more out of it than I got.

Let's review.

1. I expected a check
What I got: a check, but for 1/3 the expected amount. I was pissed, not so much for the missing money because this company WILL pay me, but because they'd told me it was coming on this paycycle, it didn't, and I'd wasted hours last night planning for a different set of financial circumstances. I spent another hour this morning reprioritizing and then paid the bills that will get paid this week. The rest will wait two weeks now.

2. I expected Max's piano lesson.
That actually happened. Because of the check fiasco, though, I only got about an hour of school work out of Max before the lesson.

3. I expected to make BLT's for lunch.
I discovered that the lettuce and most of the tomatoes had gone to the dark side. Dang. So I bunted and we had grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. Milo complained that it wasn't peanutbutter. I complained that it wasn't filet minon (filet minion?) but ate it anyway. So did Milo.

4. I expected it to be winter, still, today.
Instead it was freakishly warm. So warm that I had to concede that only an idiot would pass up the chance to go out in the yard and clean up two months of dog poop I'd been ignoring (on account of the COLD) and finally chop the enormous tree branch in the yard into pieces so that the dogs could have more yard to poop in. No, really, it had to be done and if it has to be done then doing it in beautiful weather is way better than doing it in freezing weather. Plus, my neighbor was out looking for things to do and the next thing I knew he had his chain saw out and was reducing that branch to rubble. I stuck the logs under the deck in case we ever lose electricity for an extended period of time and need to burn actual wood. I put the branches out in the brush pile on the other side of my property line (beats me, but apparently it's a long-standing arrangement with whatever entity owns the forest on the other side of the property line). This led to a nice long bs session with aforementioned neighbor in which I learned exactly what the Amish charge to reroof a house like mine.

It was THOUSANDS less than I thought it would be.

I *also* learned exactly why my roof sags in this one spot, what was done to de-sag it in the past, and what the chances are that big oak to the left of my deck will fall on the house any time soon are (better than you might think, but now that I know what the cost of a new roof will be, I no longer WANT the tree on my house as I now know that if the roof sprung a leak tomorrow, I could probably swing it without help from the insurance company).

5. I expected Max to go skiing and have a great time.
I don't even want to go into what actually happened. Suffice to say that I forgot that my firstborn can be very cautious and if rushed into a new physical activity will panic. At some point along the way, the was-a-teenager-just-yesterday ski instructor gave the kids a CHOICE of whether or not they wanted to go down the bunny slope and then said something along the lines of, "if you don't want to, you can go inside" instead of, "if you're worried, let me know, and I'll go down with you." Everyone but Max went down the bunny slope. Max came in, bought dinner, and sat and waited for me for over an hour.

sigh.

He was frustrated and discouraged and disappointed in himself. I'll give him this. He didn't say he didn't want to go back. He didn't blame his evening on anyone else. He said, "I'm the only one who didn't get the hang of the snow plow right away, so I didn't get to go down the slope."

I had him give me a blow-by-blow of the day and that's when I understood that he'd been able to go down the slope, but given no real encouragement to. He was afraid, so he passed.

So, I'm not sure what I was supposed to do here, but my gut said that this boy is too old for the, "do you want me to go down with you?" thing. That's, you know, bringing your Mom into it to fix it for you. So I explained matter-of-factly that the course was too expensive to be spent in the way that he spent it that day. It made no sense to use the time that way. I also pointed out that the REASON the instructor wanted them to go down the hill is because if you don't get the snow plow at the top of the hill, I guarentee you that you'll have it by the time you get to the bottom. Something about picking up speed helps you find the right technique. Quickly.

So, I said, I'd be coming next week to go with him to make sure that he got the snow plow so he could do the bunny slope. Just once. That's all it will take. (There are plenty of parents doing this by the way -- it's at a steeply reduced rate, so there were easily as many parents and big brothers and sisters as there were 4th and 5th graders there.)

He made a relieved noise.

Then, I pointed out that part of the reason we were doing this was so he could meet some more kids from the area. And unless he was out on the slopes, there was no way he could run into anyone new.

Get it?

He got it. He started laughing.

I offered a few scenarios for conversation. It could go like this:

Max: Hi! Sorry about that gash on your cheek! I'm not so good at the snowplow yet. I'm really glad you were there to break my fall! I'm Max! Want to come over and play some time?

Max: Ooooh, that's gonna bruise! Hey, are you into bionicles?

Max: Hey, are you okay? I'll get you a medic! But maybe tomorrow we could get together when you're done with school!

We headed home and I tried to table my disappointment. I must have achieved something in there though because an hour later Max said, "Oh, hey! Where's the calendar?" as he walked towards the calendar. He picked up a pen and said, "next week . . . skiing is on Wednesday" and he drew an arrow from Monday skiing to place it on Wednesday.

Yes. Someone in a learning situation stood in front of a large group in which Max was present and gave a bunch of directions. And Max heard them and followed them. And in the directions they mentioned that the kids needed to go home and tell their parents that since there was no school on Monday, skiing would be on Wednesday instead.

And Max heard. And then . . . he remembered. Before Monday. And THEN he communicated it to an ADULT.

I'm pretty sure this is a first. I'm getting emotional just thinking about it.

Where was I?

Oh, yeah.

6. I expected to get some work done.
I didn't. Not one lick.
Okay, well, that's not entirely true. I cooked, I cleaned, I paid bills, I went to piano lessons and did ski patrol, and I baked 12 loaves of bread. My desk will be clean before I crawl in bed tonight and I'll have a prioritized daily task list for tomorrow (not really, but I'll have a to-do list).

But I didn't get to the Y to get on the treadmill and I feel fatter for it.

And I didn't get as much paying work done as I wanted.

And my domain name expired and I don't think I'm going to renew it because I didn't budget for that.

I downloaded the entire William Tell Overture today. I thought I might need it.

Theme from the Lone Ranger

Bill Cosby had this sketch in which he describes the mammoth go-cart races that he and his friends participated in. In one, there are 500 cop cars waiting for them at the bottom of the hill. I'm sure we've all had days like that. The funniest part of the sketch for me is where he explains that each go-cart operator had a theme song that they sang or hummed as they flew down the hill--even Weird Harold.

It is Sunday evening now and I am safe at home. I picked up the living room, ran the carpet machine, and tried to ignore everything else. Today we made it to church where people complained nicely that I was overdue for another food order, the Bishop reminded me that I'm teaching the 5th Sunday lesson this month, and all my kids were given new Sunday school teachers (because in the LDS church, the kids travel together in a group up the Sunday school ladder, changing in January -- every kid turning 8 this year is in the same class, every kid turning 9, etc.). I HATE this and completely block it out of my mind because inevitably I'm unprepared to hear what year my kids are turning this year. Today was particularly unkind as I had to face the unreasonable FACT that my BABY is turning double digits in June and my other babies are turning 5 which is just not very baby-ish. Scott, a friend from church, saw my horrified expression as Ben sat down in a CTR5 chair and said, "It's not till November, Alaska." That's easy for him to say. His son (who turns 5 the day after mine do) is only his MIDDLE child. He still HAS a baby left. SHE just went into nursery and will stay there another year. And anyway, he's a man. They never seem to mind the aging process in their children.

We didn't stay for the third hour of church as we have a church/basketball game conflict for the next 6 weeks or so. So after the first hour of Sunday school, I gathered the boys and we ran home to get Max to his game on time.

The game was at the elementary school downtown, which is good, because it's the only one I know where to park around. They used 10-minute quarters or something, because the time flew by. Max did just fine and I really LOVED how his coaches interacted with his team. They were the warm-fuzziest men I've ever seen and their young team of nine-year-olds would do ANYTHING for them. Including win by more than 20 points. It was soon clear to me that Max had landed on a team with a bunch of kids who really already knew the game very well. The other team was much more mixed. What this meant is that Max, who is the only kid on his team who has never played before, only looked goofy compared to his own team members. It also meant that the other coach soon pulled the super-tall kid off Max (well, that is, he pulled the only kid he had who is also Max's height) and replaced him with a younger, shorter kid. This left the boys pretty evenly matched. Max's height is no substitute for skill at this stage of the game.

The best part? Max kept up. He ran for the whole game, ran back and forth and wasn't the last kid at the other end (he was the second last, but that's moving up for Max), and I was happy to see that we seem to have lost little ground in the battle to keep Max fit and healthy. He still has a ways to go, but he didn't lose ground.

Anyway, since the rest of the kids were doing just fine, both coaches coached Max plenty -- but not so much that he started to feel picked on. Like I said, these guys had coached LITTLE kids before. They were great.

So we went back home and I walked the dogs and started dinner and the piano teacher called and we set a lesson up for tomorrow and I wrote it on the calendar and . . .

Dy, what happens after the paint dries is that you get more and more involved with life. You get piano lessons and sporting events and vet visits and it's January 9 and the calendar is soooo full!

It's wonderful -- and occasionally panic inducing.

Tomorrow I need to find a short story for first graders involving dogs, some poems about penguins, and write a chapter of math problems. I need to take Max to a piano lesson and get him to the elementary school at 5 of 3:00 so he can get on the intramural bus to go skiing with the other 4th and 5th graders in the area. I have to remember to pick him up from the ski place at 7pm.

We have thank you cards to write and I'm really hoping to find a check in the mailbox in the morning so I can deposit it and pay the rest of my bills for the month. I need to get the Y to walk off the Ben and Jerry's ice cream Chris brought me yesterday and oh yeah -- Max needs to do a regular Monday's worth of school work. We did school last week but I've been afraid to look and see what, if anything, he got done the two days I was gone.

Tuesday the twins start swim lessons and Thursday will be their swim lessons and Max's piano theory class and then Friday is Max's regular piano private lesson plus basketball practice and Sunday is church and another game again.

So I'm sitting here tonight playing financial guru so that when that check does arrive I can put cash in the food and gas envelopes and send checks off to the people who get checks and be done with that.

And I am loudly humming the theme to the Lone Ranger (AKA the William Tell Overature) as I sit here, piloting my go-cart down that steep slope that is 2006.

I can only hope that at the bottom of the hill there is Victory! -- and not 500 cop cars.

I'm leeeeeaving on a Jet Plane/Don't know when I'll be back again

Yeah, I do. Lickety split. This is an in to town, meeting all day, back out of town deal. Even so I Chris had to practically shove me out of the truck at the airport. I've just lost my . . . ovaries, when it comes to flying. And 48 hours away from the kids seems like eternity. I don't know what I'll do this summer when Max and I hitchhike across the country to get to my sister's wedding.

I have dropped out. I write with a pink pen, wear my hair in a ponytail, and the security guy speaks condescendingly to me because I don't know the routine at the State College airport. We don't have cellphones anymore. We don't have cable, so I only know what I read of the world--and we don't get the paper, so we only know headlines.

I have to go to Chicago for a meeting that takes place tomorrow. It occured to me yesterday that my jeans/t-shirt combo wouldn't cut it--and my black velvet skirt and white blouse winter church "uniform" would look too, Amish for this crowd. So I dug through my closet and found three possibilities. All jumpers (none denim, Sarah). The first is a bright yellow jumper in a light cotton fabric. The second is a loose gray jumper in a heavier cotton fabric. The third is a navy blue jumper in a medium-weight fabric. I would freeze in the yellow. The gray is probably 10 years old. Chris hates it. I haven't wanted to let it go because once it was kind of dressy and it always fit no matter what my size. But looking at it yesterday, I had to admit that it has faded, the fabric looks worn, and is is finally too big. So I packed the blue with some tights for warmth and will hope for the best.

I am not happy about flying. I loved flying as a kid--really until Max was born. I realized it had all changed when Max was 15 months old and we flew together for the first time out to Michigan together to see family. He spent the 4-hr red eye flight wide awake and pacing the aisles with me visualizing the thousands of ways I would save him if the plane blew up. This was long before 9/11.

It hasn't gotten any better. I brought my knitting. It meant I had to check a bag but sacrifices must be made. The Delta employee checking me in sympathised and said, "I'm a knitter, too." She asked what I was working on. "Just dishclothes, " I said. "I don't want to have to pay attention." She laughed and said, "That's my on-flight knitting, too. Scarves and dishcloths." It did make me feel a little better.

In the end the first flight ended up being the entertainment portion of the trip the steward--a stocky late 20-something--was a regular standup comedian. After declaring our destination to be Honolulu, HI, with a stopover in Cincinnati, OH, he said, "This is a highly technical piece of equipment--you might want to pay attention." he said before giving the funniest demonstration of how to use the seatbelt I've ever seen. He then asked, "Anyone need me to demonstrate that again?" The whole plane raised their hands--then laughed.

For the 60-minute flight to the Cincinnati airport armpit of the Universe, he promised us lobster, steak, and peanuts although he suggested we allow the lobster and steak more time for preparation.

It almost made up for the fact that the landing in that puddlejumper had me gripping my armrest and PRAYING tha when I threw up it would be IN the bag. In CinCin I bought dramamine, only to have the gal behind me warm me that it would knock me out.

Well, poop.

I would ordinarily chance it but I knew that I'd be meeting an old friend/boss for dinner and it would be unkind of me to ruin his dinner by drooling on my plate. So I stopped by the nice sit-down restaurant and begged crackers. Maybe I looked green, or pregnant, because she ran to get them. I was still sucking on the peppermint that DELTA had given me on the last flight.

At the next gate I asked if I could move up front because I'd heard there was less turbulence. Well, no, but he could give me a seat with noone else in the row and noone in front of me and noone behind (apparently January 5 is not a big flight day) so I could puke in peace. I took it.

In the end the flight was fine thanks to the crackers.

When I got to Chicago I found my bag and then it slowly dawned on me that I knew neither how I should get to my hotel or exactly where it was. I kind of vaguely remembered that Evanston is more of a suburb than actually Chicago and I had a hunch that O'Hare wasn't in Evanston. But O'Hare is some SERIOUS real estate and if you walk far enough you can get anywhere. So I decided to try the shuttle. It was about a mile from the baggage claim to the shuttle area and I was grateful for my tendency to pack lightly. But there was no shuttle to where I was going. I was however able to get a map and some good advice. I learned that I could pay $35 to take a cab to Evanston or I could pay $2 to take the "L". The "L" would be a two-hour ride. I looked at the clock. 3:00 pm. I knew that the person I was meeting for dinner wouldn't even get off the plane until 6:30 pm.

The L station was one floor down and about 50 feet to the right. I got some change and bought a ticket and gpt on the train. I put on my headphones and caught up on Dave Ramsey shows and listened to the next hour of my audio book -- which I am really enjoying and highly recommend. I had to change lines downtown, but that wasn't too complicated. Everything was relatively clean (I mean, compared to New York or Boston) and well marked. I ran into one weirdo -- but a benevolent weirdo. He held the door open for me and then talked my ear off for the next ten minutes before parting ways. Every other human being was nice to the obviously-not-from-around-here girl. The second train was faster and there was a lot more swaying. I turned the mp3 player to classical and after 20 minutes began to really fear that I was going to puke all over the wrong person's shoes, so I took half a dose of dramamine, all the while thinking it wouldn't help anyway because the label said that I should take it 30 minutes to an hour before traveling.

Apparently that's not as important if you've been to nauseated to eat anything since breakfast. The chewable tablet must have gone straight to my bloodstream because five minutes later I was feeling like I could at least sit up straight and I was feeling almost okay by the time I got to my station. I did not throw up after all.

The security guard at the station gave me clear directions and I found the hotel only a block from the station. So, it took a little bit of walking, and a lot more time, but it was definitely worth saving $33 by taking the train.

I checked in and ran up to my room to call home. I talked to everyone, changed clothes, ran to the treadmill to walk, walked 35 minutes, ran back upstairs, showered and changed, and was just about to go find a vending machine when the phone rang. We found a great Mexican place, caught up on five years of news and gossip, exchanged photos of our kids, tried some seriously funky new food (and awesome guac), and walked back to the hotel.

Then, I worked.

And now, it is 12:33 (or 1:33 in PA) and I am off to bed.

Post Christmas MeMe

I stole this from Writing and Living. Portions of it I'm not even bothering to rewrite because they're exactly perfectly true.

If you received a Barnes and Noble gift card in your stocking (or just wish you had)...
As a matter of fact, I did. Because nothing says "I love you" like a Barnes and Noble gift card.

1. Do you go to the brick and mortar store or use it online?
Brick and mortar store. But I'm hoarding it for the next Dickens book.

2. Do you think "This is mine, all mine!" or "I've been wanting such-and-such read aloud for the kids?"
All mine. But I if Max is with me when I spend it, I won't be able to tell him no.

3. Do you buy yourself a nice B&N coffee from the cafe, or consider that a waste of good Book Money?
Hot cocoa. I've been coffee free since, um, whenever that was that the Bishop gave a resounding 5th Sunday lesson on cranking things up a notch spiritually. I thought the least I could do was give up a bad habit on account of it being one of the most interesting Sunday School lessons I've attended in ages.

4. Does a $50 value on the card mean
A)Spend as close to $50 as possible without going over.
B)Buy one book and save the balance for next time.
C)Take $50 off a purchase of $100 or more.
It means D) Spend as close to $50 as possible but you can go over a smidge -- so long as the debit card isn't declined.

5. Do you take the children and consider it a fun family outing, or plan your trip for when your hubby can watch the kids?
With some exceptions, I usually won't bring more than one child with me to B & N. It's for their own good. I have some attention span issues when reading and literally can't hear and read at the same time. The incescent "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!" from a child trying to get my attention makes other grownups want to kick them.

6. And finally, do you make a beeline for your favorite section (and what section is that?) or do you browse the new releases and recommendations up front when you walk in the door?
I browse but there are are sections I ignore. I don't usually check out those sections upfront with the big flat books. I don't usually go to the parenting/pregnancy section anymore. Computer How-to? Not so much. But knitting, fiction, biographies, and cookbooks get a good browse.

December 29th

Ahhh, December 29th. To much of the world, 'tis but a sluggish day between holidays. To the Planning Personality, 'tis a day that can be spent avoiding all true responsibilities and work by planning, planning, planning the new year.

Although I am, in fact, a Planner, this year I *didn't* go overboard with any of the above. I did sign each of the kids up for another class -- but only one. See? I'm learning. The twins get the first level of swim lessons at the YMCA and Max gets 4 ski lessons through the public school's intramural ski program. I'll grant you that he's still got basketball -- but only two days a week -- and a ton of piano -- but that's like apologizing for making the kid read, learn Latin, and do math every day. Ooooh, mean mommy.

The only "change" I've made to Max's school plans is the one that has become traditional with us -- we resolve to crank up the writing in the second half of the year. The reading change doesn't count. That wasn't a resolution so much as a response to changes I saw in my student's needs.

I don't feel moved this year to any other larger resolutions. I think in part this is because I am experiencing some success in the areas in which I used to make resolutions. I'm gradually losing weight in a healthy manner. I'm getting more exercise and in a way that also addresses my need for more time for myself. I had already cut up all but one credit card. We didn't come here to dig in deeper. Uh-uh. We came here to make it all better. All. of. it.

I have some books I'm reading and some books I plan to read. I have some knitting and needlepoint projects at hand. I received a swift for Christmas -- a gift I really, really, really wanted and just did NOT think I'd get -- I expect it to get some use (I've had a ball winder for years).



I got an RCA Lyra and it's been great for inspiring me to hit that go-faster button on the treadmill. I got a ton of kitchen stuff and I've already used it all. Even the fat separator.

This will be a busy year. Steady work (I'm booked through August, and possibly beyond), my baby sister's wedding, J and K's first baby, the twins will almost certainly learn to read and write (some more) and add and subtract. Max will continue to learn new sports and Chris will continue to follow his muses. I will continue to grow our food storage, shrink our debt, and play the role of family spiritual leader (albeit with a level of uncertainty I usually reserve for sports involving hand-eye coordination -- which I largely lack). We're not waiting on our ship to come in. We came here to build it with our own hands. I've never been afraid of hard work. I might be getting too old for some nonsense, but hard work and praise for all God has given us only seems to come easier as I age. Funny how that works.

Not that I'm feeling cocky. Hardly. I have NO idea how I'm going to find time for everything. But you know, you can't tell me Noah didn't occasionally have to take out a section and redo it. "Oy. Look at that. No way is that right. Yo, son! How many cubits was I supposed to make that?"

"32?!? Shoot. I thought it was 23."

God gave and gave and gave this year. He gave and gave and gave and gave. So did Chris. I'm so grateful.

Monday

We still have a full house over here. We're eating a lot of good food and seeing lots of relatives and having a grand old time.

But jeez, I'm ready for bed :)

And one more to celebrate Dy's return to the Blogosphere

Taco Pizza

(wait till after the baby, Dy. I don't want to be responsible for your heartburn.)

This makes two pizzas so you'll either need two pizza trays or pans or you'll need to cook the pizzas one after the other.

First mix:
5 cups bread flour
1 T yeast dissolved in 2 cups of warm water
1/4 cup olive oil (okay, say, hypothetically speaking, that you had bought some pumpkin oil back in September and you wanted to get rid of it but it turns EVERYTHING you put it in bright green. For THIS recipe, that's A-OK. Just reassure anyone in your family old enough to know that green pizza-dough is WRONG that it's um, CHRISTMAS pizza.)
1 tsp salt

place in well oiled bowl (more pumpkin oil or olive oil) and let rise till doubled

In the meantime, or when you get around to it, brown 1 1/2 to 2 lbs hamburger meat with taco seasoning. Drain. Set aside.

check on dough.

check on dough.

Okay, it's doubled. Divide into two pieces and roll out the dough in the shape of your trays or baking stones.

Poke it ruthlessly with a fork.

Preheat oven to 400.

Smear spaghetti sauce in whatever quantity pleases you over the dough. Sprinkle half of the hamburger meat on each pizza. Cover in shredded cheese. Pretty much any of the usual suspects will do. (Brie or blue cheese, not so much.)

Place in oven and cook for about 20 minutes. The cheese should be melted all the way through, the edges should be nicely browned.

WARNING: This method produces a nice head of steam in the oven. PLEASE step back when opening the oven to check on your pizza. Kids should admire from a distance. It really can get you and it's scary when your eyeballs hurt like that. I would think. If that ever happened to me. Which it hasn't because I know my way around a kitchen, yessirree.

This meal is cheap, easy, and good. Promise.

Merry Christmas and Happy Channukkah everyone.

Recipes

Potstickers

In your kitchenaide Krusher 5000 mix:
2 tsp active dry yeast
3 1/2 cups bread flour
1 T sugar
1 cup water

place in greased bowl and let rise till doubled.

While you're waiting for it to double, mix up the innards:

1 lb ground pork
2 scallions, chopped, or 1 leek
1 clove of garlic, minced
2 egg whites
1 celery stalk, minced
1/2 cup cabbage that you ran through the food processor (1/2 cup AFTER being processed)
2 or 3 big handfuls of baby spinach, put through the food processor (2 or 3 big handfuls BEFORE going in the processor)
some salt, pepper, and sesame oil to taste

Check dough. Nope, still not quite ready. Dig through your pots and pans. Darn. You finally threw away that bamboo steamer someone gave you as a wedding present but you didn't know what to use it for. Okay, no worries. Open three cans of dog food or something, peel off the labels and clean out the cans completely. Fill a LARGE pot with about three inches of water. Fill the cans with water and space them out in the pot. Find an oven-safe plate that will rest well on the cans and fit in the pot. Grease that plate well. Set the plate aside. I actually use the round Pampered Chef baking stone type thing with the edges. It's not one of the pizza stones and it's not a pie plate -- so whatever the other round baking stone thing with edges is called.

Let's assume the dough has finally doubled. Feed the kids some crackers or yogurt because you're still an hour from done.

Now divide the dough into about 24 pieces.

Roll out each piece into something that resembles a circle. Place a glob of innard in the center. About 2 Tablespoons, but mostly you just want to fill the circle enough so that it's worth eating, but not so much that it's hard to pinch the dough closed around it. Use what you know about potstickers to pinch it closed so it looks vaguely potstickery. Place each completed pot sticker on the greased plate. You'll have more than will fit. Put the others on other plate and cover them all losely with some wax paper or something. Let them all rest (rise) for about a half hour. After twenty minutes turn on the heat on the stove so the water starts boiling. Place the plate carefully in the pot (steam should come up and around the plate, but no boiling water should touch the plate). Set timer for twenty minutes.

Find frying pan. Put some oil in it. Heat it to medium-high heat around 3 minutes before the steamed dumplings are done.

Move steamed dumplings to pan. Place some more potstickers on the plate in the steamer. Set timer for twenty minutes again. Keep an eye on potstickers -- when they're brown on the bottom, they're done. The insides cooked completely during the steaming, so the frying pan is just to get that yummy crunchy bottom.

To make potsticker dipping sauce, pour a lot of soy sauce in a dip bowl. Pour about a teaspoon of sesame oil in the soy sauce. If you want it spicey, add a dash of hot sauce.

That's it. They'll look a little bloated coming out of the steamer and maybe while still frying, but they'll look like they ought to after having cooled enough to eat.

++++++++++++

Milk and Honey White Bread

makes two loaves

In a pot mix 2 1/2 cups milk with 6 T unsalted butter (or regular butter if that's all you have), 1/3 cup honey, and 1 1/2 tsp salt. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, let cool to room temperature. Mix in 1 rounded tablespoon of yeast. Add the liquid/yeast mixture to 5 cups of white bread flour in the Kitcheaide Bowl. Mix with a dough hook. Add 1 to 2 more cups of
white bread flour until it can be handled. Knead and add a smidge more flour as needed. The dough should be soft though -- only add more flour if it's totally sticking to your hands or the table. The kitchenaide did most of the keading. Don't bother doing too much here.

Place in a greased bowl and let rise till double.

Divide in half, roll out till very, very thin so you get all the air bubbles out. Roll up and placed in well-greased bread pan. Repeat for second loaf. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise in a warm place till double (will take half the time as the first rise). Preheat oven to 375.

Bake for about 35 minutes. Test for doneness. If done, dump out immediately on cooling rack, let cool out on counter for at least five hours before wrapping. Or, let cool 20 minutes, stick bread in car and drive the three blocks to your friend's house. Eat the bread with her.

Makes great sandwhiches if allowed to cool on counter overnight (assuming you took it out of oven after, say, 8 pm at night). Makes great anything, really. It's too much work to use it for soup bowls, though.

+++++++++++++++

Not whole-wheat dog treats

You'll recall that Thor is allergic to wheat. So, no wheat here. They love these.

Thawed and frozen real fruit can be subbed for jam. I was being lazy and just grabbed fruit jam I'd made off the shelf.

4 cups organic barley flour
2 tbsp flaxseeds (the real seeds are pretty cheap)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 cup water
1/2 cup blueberry jam
1/2 cup peach butter
2 tbsp honey
1 tbsp canola oil
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla.

Mix everything together, the roll out dough into 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into rectangles. Move rectangles onto nonstick or lightly greased cookie pans or baking stones. Cook at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Take out tray and let cool on the tray. (Ok, I only own one large baking stone and one cookie tray, so I mostly moved the cookies to a cooling rack so I could do the next batch. This worked fine.) When all the batches have been baked, turn heat down to 300 and bake ALL the cookies AGAIN for 30 minuts. When done, they shouldn't be burnt, but the should be very crunchy.

Let cool completely on cookie trays and then bag for up to 30 days.

Marital Strife

Yes, it's true. Chris is upset with me tonight. Why? Because I made 5 dozen cookies . . .







. . . for the dogs.

I told him that if he really wanted one he could have one. The fiber content is roughly equivalent to that of eating three entire celery plants and it would probably keep him on the toilet all day tomorrow, but if he really wants one, there they are! He said, "No thanks," and rummaged through the Christmas chocolate stash looking for solace in the form of the kind with the rice crispies in them.

This is tough time of year for him ;)

So now that the doggie treats are done, I can hand out some Christmas goodies to the neighbors. Well, almost. I need to bake some bread, but then each family will get a small loaf of bread, a few jars of jam, and some cookies for their dogs (except the Millers who don't have a dog).

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last Friday was Max's piano lesson (as usual) and I wasn't sure if we were having another lesson closer to Christmas or not. So we brought her the Piano-teacher-Christmas gift. Now, recently we'd had a few problems with getting to her class on time -- more problematic, we had some problems with me getting there at all. This was not entirely my fault. She went through a period where she was changing our piano-lesson time two or three times a week. Since my memory just isn't what it used to be and since in November I was up to my eyeballs in work, I plum forgot the "new" time two lessons in a row.

She was apoplectic at the time. I was sincerely concerned we were causing her medical problems, or worse, that she'd drop us and go find someone more punctual. So I offered to clean up my act if she'd just stop changing our lesson time.

She hasn't stopped changing our lesson time but she does it half as frequently.

Annnyway. So I wanted to give her something nice for Christmas, but as a former public school teacher, I never, ever, ever give teacher-type gifts that aren't consumable. NOONE needs 742,326 little dust collectors that say "World's Best Teacher". And noone needs that many candles.

So we made her my favorite loaf of white bread -- scalded milk, honey, butter, white bread flour, yeast -- it's so fattening and so delicious. And since my future BIL (who is from the Ukraine, as is the piano teacher) recommended tea and raspberry jam in particular, we went to Wegman's and found the Russian Tea Section (That's not a joke. They really have one.) and picked out two different boxes with the Kosher symbol on the bottom. We don't actually know what her faith is. But BIL said, "Her last name is Bernstein and she's a piano teacher from the Ukraine?!? I'm 98% sure she's Jewish." So we wrote "Happy Holiday and Snovem Godem" on the card and got the Parve tea, just to be safe. Snovem Godem means "Happy New Year." When I say it, it sounds awful as I am a Pennsylvanian-American, but when he says it, it sounds very festive. Picking the jam was a chore. Hmmm, regular raspberry jam? Or the raspberry cider jam? Well I know the blueberry jam came out well . . . . We picked the raspberry and the blueberry and then two others that I can no longer recall.

It's just that it all HAD to be perfectly perfect. This piano teacher has been wonderful for Max and she must be kept HAPPY.

Then, five minutes before it was time to go, I realized I had no basket to put it all in. So we used an Amazon box with the flaps cut off and stuffed it with blue tissue paper. Not very beautiful, but everything fit.

We went to the lesson, Max gave her the box, she exclaimed over its size (well, the little loaf of bread and boxes of tea took up a lot of space), and then we had the lesson and Max was pleased as punch because she had a little bag of sugary goodies for him.

Well, tonight she called (to reschedule the lesson for this coming week ::slaps thigh::) and said that she loved everything in the box, especially the bread (ask Jill, it really is the shizznizzle as Chris would say), and was really touched by it.

And I was just soooooooooooooo relieved. The piano teacher is happy. My work here is done.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm feeling much better. I was feeling especially like death-warmed-over last night and Chris looked at me around midnight (as I was avoiding going to bed because my throat hurt more when I was laying down) and said, "You're not going to church tomorrow" and that was that.

I slept until 12:30.

TWELVE THIRTY.

IN THE AFTERNOON.

I can't remember the last time I slept that late. Even when we were having our weekend away together, I think 11 am was our record for sleeping in.

I do vaguely remember someone letting the dogs in at some point this morning. So I slept half the morning with Herself snuggled up against one side of me and Himself snuggled up against the other and I had weird dreams about meeting Chris for the first time and wondering when he was going to kiss me, only we were the ages we are now. The dogs probably had weird dreams about wondering when I was going to wake up and feed them.

So eventually I did. I spent the first half of the afternoon in the living room chair doing nothing and then I finally decided I should maybe do something. So I picked up the living room, cleaned up the back porch, spent a few minutes on the laundry situation and the decided to start dinner.

I made potstickers. I had to make the potsticker dough first. While it was rising I made the innards. Then I threw together the dog-cookie dough. I left it in the mixer and went back to the potsticker project. The dough should have made 24 potstickers. I had divided the dough into two pieces and the cut one of the pieces into 12 smaller pieces. Then I rolled out each small piece and put a spoonful of pork/veggie mixture in the middle, pinched the dough closed, and placed it on a greased baking stone. I'd done two and was in the middle of a third when the doorbell rang. It was my home teachers, come to bring us goodies and say Hi.

In the time it took me to answer the door, Emily ate the innards of the potsticker I was making and four pieces of potsticker dough. Sheesh. I threw away the piece that I'd been working on, covered everythign else in plastic wrap and put it on the counter away from Emily's nose while the home teacher's were here. They stayed about 15 minutes and left. I continued making the potstickers.I started rolling out the doggy treat dough.

Jill stopped by in time to eat some potstickers with the twins. It was while I was checking on the 2nd batch of potstickers that were steaming that I started thinking about Emily and that dough again. This was yeasted dough. I pictured it "rising" in her tummy. Oh, gosh!

So then I got to spend the next half-hour on the phone trying to find out what I could do to prevent bloat in my standard poodle, while simultaneously monitoring baking dog cookies, steaming potstickers, and preschoolers eating rice. (Milo gets tired of the whole fork charade and starts grabbing it by fistfulls to shove in his mouth. I don't like that. Ick.)

In the end we decided there was nothing to do for Emily by now -- over an hour and a half had passed since she'd eaten the dough -- except watch her. So far, so good.

The potstickers turned out well. Not perfect, but well. The rice was good though.

And now I am tuckered out and going to bed.

:::sniffff::::

:::sniiiifff:::

::cough::

::whimper::

:::sn--BIG NOSE BLOW:::

:::tosses soggy tissue into trash:::

:::whimper:::

:::sniiiiiifff:::

Apparently I was grouchy

Because I was coming down with a cold. I woke at 1:30 because Chris was snoring his head offI had a swollen throat and a raging headache. I took drugs and went back to bed but woke in the morning feeling none the better. I spent most of the day trying to work, drink hot tea, and not be too grouchy. It was actually a fairly productive day. Motivated by something Chris said to him, Max was incredibly responsible about getting his work done. He kept plugging away at his list -- only stumbling over a Latin exercise relating root words to their derivatives. It is in this one area that the age difference between the student for whom the program was written and the age/grade of the student in my house becomes a problem. I let him cheat and use the online etymology dictionary. It was some help.

Because it's been so flippin' cold, I finished putting plastic over the windows in our bedroom and living room. The improvement was immediate. I still need to do the windows in the twins' room and two windows in the basement and then I'll be done. I'm not fond of this task, nor particularly good at it. Oh, well.

In the late afternoon I took the twins to go run a few errands. This ended up taking three times longer than I thought it would, but we survived and came home. I was working on our Christmas packages as it seems that tomorrow is the 15th already and I'd better get things mailed. I had some diet mountain dew and then since that was good I had another cup and then another and THEN I realized that seeing as how I've really, really cut back on the caffeine lately, it probably wasn't wise to drink three cup of mountain dew at 7:30 at night.

So here we are . . .

at least I got more work done.

Gnash, Gansh, Grind, Grind

I have no good reason AT ALL to be in as foul a mood as I am today.

And yet there it is.

I hate the world! I hate you all!

Not really, but I am pretty grouchy.

At one point I tried to cheer myself up by taking my Most Gorgeous Dog and going to Petco and the grocery store. This *was* rather fun. Hanging around Emily at Petco is like being (I imagine) in Nicole Richie's entourage. You're with the beautiful girl who is Worshipped and Adored For No Particular Reason (and, she looks like she could maybe eat a bit more--'cause she's a poodle).

But when I got home one of Max's friends came over and a Great Bit of Boy Noise ensued. I just didn't have the patience for it today. I did my best but by dinner time I would have duct taped them all if it wouldn't have interfered with eating. At least dinner came out well. Roast chicken.

So at 8:10 I drove Max's friend home and Max and I went to the Y where I walked very very fast for a great long while on the treadmill until I felt better.

Now I am going to attempt to get some work done and then go to bed. I picked up two of the rustiest, menacing-looking cast-iron muffin pans you ever saw through freecycle last night. I didn't see how bad they were till I got them home. Awed, I went to the Internet to see if there was anything to be done for it short of a blow-torch. I found a few suggestions. So last night I put all my cast-iron pots -- including the relatively new one which was just fine, but had some burnt-on rice on the bottom. It was sort of the control group. I left the pots in the oven on self-clean mode for three hours, then turned off the oven and went to bed without looking.

In the morning I was delighted to find that the pots, all three of them, were in fact, perfectly clean, save but for some lingering ashes. These rinsed right off. Now, the newish pot just needed to be oiled again and re-seasoned. The older pots however, still had their rust to contend with. They were very CLEAN now, but still rusty.

I worked on them a bit with an SOS pad. This worked great -- except that on the back of the pan there were the inevitable nooks and crannies of a muffin pan. Unlike a tin muffin pan, the cast-iron version is very compact. On the back side, there is no real space between the "bumps." The edges come together at the base and the whole SOS pad method is pretty useless.

What to do . . .

If I were a teenager still working at Taco Bell, I'd have stolen a box of red sauce and meticulously opened all the packages and coated the pots in those. That rust would have been gone in 60 seconds. (Needless to say, although I've gotten over the experience enough to eat at Taco Bell again -- I don't ever use the red sauce.)

Instead I went to the grocery store with my big poodle and got four 2-liter bottles of Coca-cola. I brought that home, filled a plastic bucket with it, and submerged the muffin pans for a few hours. This did the trick pretty well. I can still see the faintest of red casts on the back of the tins, one more so than the other, but 98% of the rust is gone. Enough that I have proceeded with re-seasoning all three pots. They're in the oven now, having been generously coated with melted Crisco using a silicon brush.

I wonder if I need to do the seasoning process more than once before using them? I imagine not for the new one. I'm afraid if I jump in too soon with the muffin pans, that I'll end up with muffins welded to my "new" pans. Maybe not if I just generously grease them first.

Wal-mart

I've never been a huge fan of Wal-mart. In general, it's really low on my list of places to shop. The products I do look for there are all-cotton t-shirts for the kids and canning supplies when my other two places have run out. I've never shopped there for X-mas presents.

This year however, their layaway policy seemed promising. I'd never done layaway before but I decided I'd give it a try this year. I went in and located the items I wanted to get the kids for Christmas, put down $60 (more than the 10% required, but still just a token amount), and left.

I went back yesterday to finish the transaction.

60 minutes later I left having given them all my cash, with no presents. The computer burped whemn printing out the receipt and they thought they'd somehow credited my credit card hundreds -- while agreeing that was impossible because a) no manager had turned the key and b) we weren't working with those kinds of numbers.

I went back with Max 30 minutes later (I'd had to pick him up from basketball) and tried again to make some progress. At least this time I left with my copy of the receipt. I'd paid a LOT of money for a few expensive toys and had NOTHING.

This morning I went to my bank, obtained proof that they hadn't put anything into my account, went to Wal-mart. Thirty minutes later they were ready to give me a $10 gift card and send me on my way still with nothing while they "figured things out."

No.

I got a refund. And the $10 gift card. But it was too much. They refunded me the amount they owed me PLUS $88.77. I told the manager this when he gave me the money but he pointed to the receipt and swore it was right and I was now flustered enough to just take the money and go.

Halfway to Target I realized where the guy had gone wrong in his math. I was NOT going to go to hell for Wal-mart, but at the same time I wasn't going to turn around again.

I shopped at Target, got back in the truck, went to Wal-mart, gave back the the $88.77 and went home.

Personally? I think it should have been a $20 gift card, but for now we'll consider a simple sign that my usual inclination to shop in bright, clean, organized RED Target instead of dark, cold, massive, disorganized Wal-mart was spot on. Wal-mart is for canning supplies. Target is for everything else. At least for me.

Ten Things I Just Don't Need for Christmas

Feel free to treat this as a meme -- just come back and leave a link in the comments if you do.

10. I have no need for one of these:



9. We are not their target market:



8. We are past the point of a need for these (but if you're not, these are the real deal -- far, far, far more absorbant and long lasting that the Gerber stuff at Wal-mart):



7. Not under my tree:



6. Not for that kind of money (although the kids would love it)



5. I have no need for faux-fur or festive snowmen appliques.



4. I don't need anything with "ab" in the title. (Where is the guy in the last picture going?)




3. I found a guy who will cook and ship me lutefisk. Tempting, but . . .



2. With the noise my kids make, I'd be living under strobe lights.



1. Please don't. The real pets make enough noise. And Emily would see this thing move and pounce -- ta da! Dead robopet. (If your kids really want one and you're okay with that kind of thing, there's a nice price on them at Sam's Club.)

Happy Birthday Baby Boy

December 9th is the anniversary of the birth of our second son, Emmett, who did not survive the birth. He was 8 inches, 8 oz, and beautiful. Some years I've felt overcome with grief. Not this year. This year I want to laugh and cry all at the same time. He feels closer than ever, more mine than ever, more our child than ever. He would have been 6 this year.

Max was three and a half when we lost the baby. Old enough to grasp what was going on, not old enough to understand. For reasons only understandable by Max, he took an interest in the brother he lost this year. On more than one occasion he said to me, "If my brother had lived, we could have done _____ together." I never knew what the right answer to that was. Was he saying this because he sensed that it was important to me that Emmett be remembered? Or was it just the wistful voice of the-brother-that-has-no-twin? I don't know. I don't encourage the comments, but I always find something to say at the time. It's been a few months. I won't mention it to him tomorrow. Tomorrow will be filled with sledding and snow throwing and the giddiness of a true snow day (at least if the weather reports are to be believed) as we are getting 6 to 8 inches over night and apparently our street is one of "THE" streets to sled on. I don't expect to feel Emmett's presence any more than usual. I've been blessed to have truly wonderful sons and I feel deeply that Emmett was no different. He is often with me. A great comfort to me, his mother.

After much discussion and a pass through the bookshelves at Barnes and Noble

Max and I have decided to reintroduce ourselves to the world of literature study with The Hobbit. And a study guide from Veritas Press. Any relatives who would like to read along may purchase their copy in paperback from their local B&N and email The Boy with insights and questions.

But not till January.

Ben is sick. I'm sitting here watching him sleep in The Green Chair. I never let him sleep in the chair and he often begs to. But tonight he had so completely nailed the whole poor sick waif routine that I let him.

Chris is 36 tomorrow. Go give him some love.

Guest Blogger: My Mom

(Dec. 7, 2005)

2005 was a year full of blessings
Like ironing wrinkles through several pressings.
We have a new neice
Expanding our clan.
Elspeth arrived in February's élan.

Then Konrad arrived in mid-June--
Swelling numbers;
They both have been noted for
Ubiquitous slumbers.

Our friends have survived
The disasters from storms

While our new home has kept us first cool
And now warm.

It's a lovely old place
With two huge gracious trees
And a deck in the back
To catch a fresh breeze.


Please note new address
And also phone number.
We've spiffied the place with fresh paint and new lumber.

Indian Summer is here-
So warm, birds are singing;
So we send MERRY CHRISTMAS!
To you thoughts are winging

Thanksgiving is over
We're grateful and fasting.
And now turn our thoughts to life everlasting.

Have a Happy New Year 2006;
Add some joy and some peace
Into the mix
Stir gently until
Any woe you can fix.


Peace, Judith

Tuesday

I'm listening to XM Kids on the computer because, well, it's funny, althoug D. Dynamite is my least favorite dj on this station. I like Mindy and the Animal Farm guy in the morning. They make me laugh.

Today was all over the map. It was a day of gettin' things done, but no more than a few hours on each task. This evening I worked on lesson plans. We've been doing a lot of "turn page, do next lesson" for the last two months and while that works pretty well, every so often I find it wise to sit down and take a look at the curriculum and see what is working, what's not, and what I might want to do differently after Christmas break.

Here's what I came up with:

1. Math. This will be the first year since we started homeschooling that we didn't pluck up the whole family and move it thousands of miles sometime during the school year resulting in two and a half months "off" in the middle of the year. We've always been able to get "everything" done in that time anyway in spite of some serious slacking during periods of intensity during my work. So the first thing I noticed was that at this rate we'll be done with the math textbook in, um, the first week of March. Like, March 2nd or so. Let me tell you how often we reached the end of the math book when I was teaching in the classroom (and let me remind you that while there are subjects I may avoid and that I didn't hit that hard when I was in the classroom, say, um, science, that MATH is the subject I got done no matter what plague I might have come down with while taking attendance. For one thing, it's a subject the kids did quietly, for another, I've mentioned before that I just like it.)

That sentence is a gramatical disaster so let's abandon it and move on.

Never. Never is how often I reached the end of the math textbook while teaching in the classroom. So here we are, on track to reach the end of it March 2nd. We've nailed multiple digit multiplication and long division and here it is December 6th. We're coming up hard on addition and subtraction of fractions and using decimals instead of remainders. hoo-wee! We can't be stopped.

So what's a girl to do? Well, I'm all for hitting algebra early so you can hit calculus for the first time sophomore year, but we're already on track for that, so there's no sense in moving on to the next level of math. I'd rather switch to a different "approach" and just dig in deeper with what the boy has already learned.

Frankly, my biggest problem with Saxon is that it breezes so quickly through some of this stuff.

Here's long division! Got it? Cool, move on . . .

This hasn't been a problem for Max because our gene pool is cool with math. If it were spelling he'd have been dead in the dust on the first week of school. But my experience is easy come, easy go, so we'll have some cake March 3rd and then the following Monday dive back into Right Start Level E. (I LOVE Right Start but it is soooo working Mom unfriendly. My only "complaint" with this program continues to be that it is SO parent-intensive. That and the price for fancy photocopies. Anyway, I'll have to suck it up for March, April, and May.)

So that's math. Finish up by March 2nd, switch to "enrichment" program until end of year.

2. Writing. Historically I've skimped on writing during the first half of the year. The first year I did so because Max broke out in hives and dissolved into a whimpering blob of little boy when I put a pencil in his hand, so we did very controlled exposure to the pencil until that reaction was eliminated. Last year we needed to spend the first part of the year really focusing on spelling. In January we started doing more writing and we kept that up until the move two and a half months later. Yeeeaaah. ::cough:: Nevertheless, he continues to look just fine on the ITBS in that department except for the whole capitalization and punctuation thing.

So this year I got a book just on capitalization and punctuation and we've done formal composition using the "writing process" sometimes six weeks in a row -- and then nothing for a month. So looking ahead to January all I know is that I have to put it in the same category as math and Latin -- the things we still do even when we can justify dropping everything else.

3. Science. I'm sorry all you better-than-me homeschooling teachers. The best I can come up with here is to vow to continue telling him to turn the page and read the next lesson. Be glad I bought the 4th grade textbook and that he loves reading it. Puuurty pictures. On the days he doesn't read Science, he reads a 4th grade Health textbook that PA wants us to read -- that is, they want us to "teach health" so we bought a Health textbook and since I'm not easily offended, it works fine for us. He loves it. We have interesting conversations afterwards. So, no changes planned in '06.

4. History. History is a problem because PA would kinda like us to cover basic American history and we're doing SOTW 3, which means we're all over the map from the same time period, but we only hit the main ideas. Not a lot of details. I'm thinking maybe we'll get a Harcourt fourth grade social studies textbook and then spend two years reading it on the side. I don't see much reason to spend 5th grade "studying the states." We'll go back to Ancient Civilizations and then read the American history book on the side. So, um, sometime in January we'll add that in. I haven't even ordered the book yet.

5. Latin. We seem to have dropped Latina Christiana entirely and are just happily bumping along at a leisurely pace in Cambridge Latin Course. I really LOVE this curriculum. You could NOT start it any earlier than fourth grade and you really, really, really have to be cool with spending literally weeks longer on each lesson than it's written for because it's written for high schoool. But it's a lot of fun, has SO many activities (in the Student Edition and in the workbook at and the website), and is just not nearly as deathly dull as LC can be. I can still see why you'd want to do both, but I couldn't keep up with two programs after two months.

6. Spelling. No change. Still love Sequential Spelling by AVKO.

7. Reading. We've been doing a basal since January of last year and that has served us really well. This year I haven't been eager to move out of it because frankly, when your nine year old is reading HP 6 and HP 3 simultaneously so as to more closely track character development and link past events to recent events -- well, chances are he's developing nicely. Get out of the way and let the boy swim. But come January he'll be done with the HPs and thrashing around hungrily for something new to sink his teeth into. So I've dusted off the old WTM and looked around online and chewed on my lip a lot. That's as far as I've gotten with that.

8. Music. We just do what his piano teacher tells us to do. She tells us to do a lot, so that's pretty much it. No changes.

I didn't make any plans for the twinkies. We keep picking up 100 Easy Lessons whenever I think of it and the twins make it clear that they could and would do it a LOT more than I pick up the book, but they're saddled with me for a teacher so they're up a creek.

For Yeah and Verily, I Hath Been Tagged

A meme from jojo

1.) Seven things I hope to see or do before I die:

My pre-pregnancy weight. The first pregnancy.

The underside of the Bridge of Sighs

Australia

Alaska (the state)

Finish a mini-triathalon

my grandchildren's weddings

the inside of the sealing room of any LDS temple

2.) Seven things I cannot do (right at this moment, but subject to change)

pie crusts

snowboard

groom my own poodles

reroof the house by myself

speak any language other than English -- fluently

knit fair isle anything

put my children in public school

3.) Seven Things That Attract Me To My Husband

his BEAUTIFUL brown/green/gold eyes

his pee-my-pants sense of humor

his nearly bald head -- what can say? It works for me.

his height

Nando

the fact that he sings all the time

his stubbornness (mostly)

4.) Seven Things I Say Most Often:

I love you!

Max says I say, "Because they're only four, that's why."

Chris says I say, "Maaaaaaax!"

crap. (I know, but there it is.)

Did you drink my last diet mountain dew?

Would you mind going to the store for more pop?

Is it somebody else's turn to cook tonight?

5.) Seven Books or Series that I Love

The Phantom Tollbooth

Always Coming Home and the Earth/Sea trilogy

Jude the Obscure (I know, but there it is.)

Winter Wheat by Mildred Walker

The Changeling by Zilpha Keatley Snider

The Pushcart War

Goodnight Gorilla

6.) Seven movies I would watch over and over again if I had the time

This is just so not my media.

7.) Seven People I Want to Join In and Do This Meme Also:

Anyone who hasn't already?

Turkey Redux

Since I actually had a little bit of money earlier this week before giving it all away to the stack of envelopes on my desk, I went grocery shopping, erm, repeatedly. In one of those trips I picked up six turkeys on deep clearance. I already had a HUGE free turkey that one of my brother's work places gave him and he didn't want (they don't usually eat meat, my brother and sister-in-law) and I did want it, so I got it. Chris said, "Are you sure these are going to FIT in our freezer?" as he dutifully helped schlep them from the truck to the house. I said something noncommittal and sure enough, all but one fit in the freezer. What to do? Well, duh, eat it! So I stuck it in the downstairs fridge and decided this morning, four days later, that it was probably thawed now and I should do something with it.

Now, last year I went the brine-the-turkey route and that was tasty, but time consuming. This year I wasn't serving anyone but the family and all I wanted was it to be done, so I pulled out Betty circa 1983 and SHE said to stick it in the oven with maybe some salt on the inside, some oil on the outside, no water in the pan, and that was it.

That's it?

Betty circa 1983 swore that was it.

So I rinsed off my turkey, salted the inside, plopped it in the roasting pan and preheated the oven.

The turkey whimpered. I took pity on it. I took the skins off a couple of small onions and stuck those inside the turkey and sprinkled some dried, diced garlic in there. Then I oiled the top of the turkey with pumpkin oil, sprinkled some garlic salt on it, liberally dusted it with ground basil, and stuck it in the oven.

The Holy Ghost, or my schizophrenia, hard to say which, said, "do NOT leave it in that dry oven while you go to Max's piano lesson for two hours." I apologized to Betty circa 1983 and dumped in 4 cups of water and a pint of raspberry cider to the bottom of the roasting pan. I crammed the meat thermometer in the thigh, and leaving the turkey uncovered, I closed the oven and went my way.

Returning 3 hours later, I opened the oven to find that it had that "Yo, get everything else together because I'm almost done!" look. The meat thermometer agreed. Shizzle. I told it that no matter what, it was cooking for another hour because I wasn't ready for it yet. It sighed. I reminded it that it was just shy of 14 lbs and it needed to cook longer. It sighed again.

I planned, since this is, after all, only Friday night's dinner and not even Sunday night's dinner, much less Thanksgiving, to make the stuffing that I thought I was going to make for Thanksgiving months ago. I'd been collecting the butts of all of my weekly homemade bread, chopping them into large, vaguely crouton shaped chunks, baking them in the oven for 20 minutes or so to dry them out, and then freezing them. At one point I'd made 8 loaves of cranberry-orange bread and it was darker, thicker, and more adult-bread-like than my usual loaves, so I had a lot of that left over. I'd say that 2/3 of the 6 quarts of dried bread chunks were cranberry-orange whole wheat bread. The rest were ordinary homemade white or wheat or a mix of the two.

Betty couldn't tell me how to make stuffing. She knew how to make stuffing using fresh bread -- it involved no liquid beyond a vat of butter. I knew that wasn't going to cut it, but I borrowed her list of herbs for my recipe. I guessed on the liquid. I used a quart of chicken broth, heated that up, tossed in two cups of dried, chopped apples, the spices/herbs, and another pint of raspberry cider. I had a lot of left over cider from jelly/jam making. I added 1/3 cup of butter to that (half of what Betty wanted me to use, and Betty was using half as much bread as I was). I sauted some thinly sliced celery (if it's too chunky, Chris notices it, and then he won't eat it) and red and white chopped onions in some fake butter substitute, then mixed that in with the bread. I poured the liquid/rehydrated apples over the bread crumbs, mixed it well, and dumped it all in a huge greased casserole dish.

I liberated the turkey from the oven. It was looking beautiful and I needed the oven space. The dogs at this point had come to lay themselves prostrate on the floor. By golly, if they had to trip me to get some of that turkey, they would. I turned up the heat, covered the stuffing in foil, and put it in the oven for a half hour. I pulled the rack that supported the turkey out of the roasting pan and dumped the contents of the roasting pan into my dutch oven (through a strainer to get out the gook). I don't have a fat separator. That would make a good Christmas present. I stood there for ten minutes trying to spoon it off the top. Shyah. But I got some of it. [While we're on the subject, isn't this a nice salad spinner? and can't you see me using this?] I have a terrible time getting my gravy to not be lumpy, so I blended some of the raspberry cider/turkey drippings with the whole wheat pastry flour in the blender and then poured it all into the boiling cider/drippings and POOF -- gravy. Ohmigosh, it tasted heavenly. Still some lumps but not nearly as lumpy as my gravy usually is. What can I say? We all have flaws.

Okay, turkey: check; stuffing: check; gravy: check -- need a vegetable. I rinsed off the green beans, cut off the ends and cut the beans in half because my weird family is strangely suspicious of green beans that aren't the same size as those in cans. I put those in boiling water -- somewhere in here I put dog food in the dog bowls, spooned some of the gravy over the dog food (oh, c'mon, you don't do that?) threw the neck in one bowl and gizzards in the other and let the dogs know, as only I know how, that I love them dearly. They burped and let me know they love me, too.

Then, poof! It was all done! Milo was crying hysterically at this point because he was going to D-I-E if he didn't get to eat turkey N-O-W!! So I sent him down to spread the good word to Dad that dinner was ready. He and Ben raced down together to do that. I carved the turkey, served everyone, and we sat down to eat a meal far less ordinary than our usual Friday night dinner. Gosh it was good and there were lots of leftovers although Chris had to be physically removed from the kitchen to keep from O.D.ing on tryptophan (at his request -- he had a lot of work to do and couldn't afford to pass out like he did last Thursday).

And just because some days are like this, as I was working on carving the left over turkey to go into the fridge, the phone rang. Brian wanted us to know that Santa was coming to Pine Grove Mills to light the little Christmas tree between the two tiny, old churches in downtown PGM and they were going to be serving a couple of metric tons of cookies. Did we want to go? Well, of course, it would save me a trip to the North Pole! (See post below.) So we dressed the boys (better late than never) and bundled up and headed to the old churches. It. was. so. cold. And freakishly windy. Between the incredible darkness and cold and wind, it was really something out of a scary movie, but we were warmed by thoughts of Santa and persevered.

Milo was in heaven. Here he is, having placed himself as close to Santa as anyone dares.


And later, he was third kid on Santa's lap.


Ben ate a few cookies and then took his turn.


And then the rest was cake cookies.


So up next on the agenda was Christmas carols, but I was tiiiired by this time, so Max stayed for that with Brian and his Mom and I took the twins and headed home. By now, it was Siberia outside.

We made it two blocks home -- and folks, I shoulda driven the three blocks with the twinkies. With the wind it was just toooo cold.

AccuWeather Quick Look

Currently at 9:36 PM Temperature: 23 degrees F (-5 C) RealFeel: 9 degrees F (-13 C)

But what are you going to do? So you keep swimming and then suddenly who should come around the corner in his little white bread Fred truck? Superman! He pulled over and we piled in to the tiny passenger seat (Dude, it was coooold, we MADE it work.) and drove the rest of that long walk up the hill home in his toasty warm truck.

Yay, Dad!

That's it. With all that excitement everyone hopped into pjs early and Chris is the only one planning to stay up tonight. G'night.

Mommy . . .

Milo: Mommy . . .
Me: Yep.
Milo: Mommy, I'm gonna go to the North Pole. I guess I better go potty first.
Me: I guess!
Milo: Then, um, then, um, then I'm gonna put on pants and shirt and socks and shoes!
Me: Yep, you'd better dress warmly if you're gonna do that.
Milo: [Thinks better of it.] Maybe I could wear my jammas to the North Pole!
Me: Ohhh, well . . .
Milo: But!
[Mom pauses in stuffing preparation to look at him expectantly.]
Milo: I'm gonna wear my SPIDER MAN jammas!
Me: Ah, yes, well, at least they'd be clean.

Yes, it's 3:45 pm and Milo is changing out of one pair of jammas and into another. It's been a rather laid-back day for them :) Although, apparently, Milo has big plans for the evening . . .

Thursday

We had a day. Math and Latin -- I let Max wiggle out of history because he has temporarily "lost" the book. He sat in the other green chair and sang silly songs to himself about the Latin words in his worksheet. Goofy Goober.

We worked out at the Y again this morning. He walked on the treadmill next to me for fifteen minutes and then went to swim laps. He's charmed the male lifeguard who is there in the mornings -- the young man tosses diving toys into Max's lane as Max swims past the chair -- then Max has to swim faster to get the toy. When I'm done walking on the treadmill and killing myself with crunches, I sit in the chairs near the pool and watch him swim while I knit. Then we go home and get to work. It's a WONDERFUL way to spend an hour. Gosh I love my kids so much.

He had his group piano lesson today. I did some grocery shopping and dog grooming. It was a moderately quiet day. Tomorrow I launch back into work -- around getting to the Y and Max's individual piano lesson.

It's snowing. It's beautiful. Life is good.

Gingerbread Houses

The last thing I got done today was a double batch of gingerbread dough which I have sworn solumnly to help the boys turn into GB houses tomorrow. Oh, that WILL be messy. But it will make for good blogging as long as the batteries in the digital camera hold out.

In other news, we had a WONDERFUL time with Mary Ann, her daughter Rose, her grandson, Morgan, and her son-in-law, Vance. They are all such wonderful people and we had yummy food and great conversation. In fact, we had such a good time that we decided to do it again in less than a week before Mary Ann has to head home to Arizona. Rose and Vance and Morgan live here for the time being, and I'm hoping we can continue to get together while they're here.

I have 90% of what I need to start a new work project, but the missing 10% is crucial, so instead of workwork today, I did errands. I took the boys to preschool and stopped by the insurance office to make a deposit to our HSA. (My HSA account is through the bank owned by my insurance company and they'll overnight my deposits for free. Free is good, right Risha?) Max and I visited the post office, Target for a big Bionicle that he had earned the money for by selling something on eBay, and the Dairy for, duh, milk. Around this time we concocted the idea of the gingerbread house, so we went back to Penn State, picked up the twins, and hit the grocery store for gingerbread items. Only, right next to the grocery store was a hair place with cheap kids cuts, so I decided to have Ben and Milo professionally trimmed for once (pure laziness as far as Ben goes -- he just gets a #1 all over his head. Milo gets longer on top and short on the sides, so there is some small amount of skill involved. Skills I don't really have, but usually fake okay.) It was lunch time though and Milo in particular was in an uncharacteristically impish mood. By the time we were done with the hair cuts they'd lost all patience. I had to have words with the boy twice and Max was beyond grouchy. We talked about THAT on the way home.

Got home, fed everyone as quickly as possible, ::poof:: dark scowls all gone. Mental note: simultaneous growth spurts happening here, don't. skip. lunch.

I got Max started on school work four hours later than normal, but he was eager given the promise of gingerbread house baking. I gave him a list and then left them all in the care of Chris. Emily and I went back to the post office, on to the health food store to get some pectin and blue berries, and then off to the park to throw the ball and walk for 20 minutes. Poor Emily. Her hair is so long she's nearly blind. It didn't stop her from running her heart out, but she had to use her nose to find the ball more often than not. Then she was eating/licking the grass -- I hadn't brought water because it was 42 degrees or something and it hadn't occured to me. So we bopped over to Petco for a small bag of pig ears and a bottle of water. Jeez, if you're ever feeling invisible, down (not that I was, but . . .) just borrow Emily and head to Petco. Even incredibly overgrown (and frankly, muddy) she got gushing compliments from literally every human we passed. Those who knew a poodle when they saw one were practically cat calling after her. I think she blushed under all that fur. Had Emily HAD puppies today, I'd have sold them all right there in the parking lot. As it was, I promised the groomers we'd come back when she's had a hair cut so she can see her admirers.

Then it was home for dinner. Chris and I pow-wowed over the family Christmas list. I have a lot left to make but think I can be done by the end of next week to get most gifts shipped.

In Which We Have a Steve and Blue Day

Yesterday was a lot of fun. First, Chris went to pick up the mail.

"Here's the mail it never fails.
It makes me want to wag my tail.
When it comes I want to wail
MAIL!"

The mail brought a huge package from my Aunt and a paycheck. I sent Chris off to the bank and he returned with deposit slips and cash so I could go shopping later.

Then, we had a mid-morning Pampered Chef party. Chris took the kids and Emily down to the garage so that none of them could bark and jump on the guests.

"Hi! We're so glad you're here today!"

That went well, although it was heck on my diet. Chris ate all the leftovers. He loves Pampered Chef parties.

Everyone went home and Max went off to Brian's house to go sledding and do whatever else it is an 8 and a 9 yr-old do that takes the entire rest of the afternoon. Brian's Mom is On Top of It so I didn't really worry about the details.

I remembered the package from Aunt Charlotte and opened it to find a HUGE Vera Bradley bag and I really sweet note from Aunt Charlotte telling me that this was my 2006 Christmas present (implying that next year's family Christmas name-draw might be somewhat fixed ;). Apparently the bag has been discontinued. It's HUGE. I love it. It's beautiful and completely out of the blue and that's MY kind of mail! Since I'm working on my never-ending needlepoint stocking right now, I immediately put it and all it's stuff in the bag. The stocking is about 22 inches tall in the needlepoint frame. It only peeks out about 4 inches above the top of the bag and the bag's straps are much taller than that. So, it's perfect. I'm thrilled and thankful.

Next, I packed up the twizzles and we went shopping. We went to Wal-mart in search of the cheapest iron skillet I could find. My Navajo friend from Arizona is coming this evening with her family to visit and have dinner and my old iron skillet died a horrible death in the dishwasher before the move. We found that and looked at their winter coats. They didn't have two in Ben and Milo's size. We left.

Next we went to Wegman's to buy groceries for tonight's get-together, stopping on the way at McDonalds where I let Ben and Milo get happy meals. I got a diet coke. They ate their happy meals in the "car" shopping cart, which meant I made good time for once. We loaded up the groceries in the truck and then went to Target. We had better luck here and did LOTS of shopping. Turtle necks were on sale in their size for $2.99 each. I got four. Dress shirts were $7.99 each. I bought one for each. The winter coats in their size were $39.99 and $49.99. This was $5 more each than the ones at Wal-mart, but I bought two of the $39.99 coats because they were the right size. We also got some more fleece mittens and hats. I did finish my mitten set, but it seems that it pays to have more than one pair of mittens per child in an Northern-Appalachian winter and I can't keep up on the knitting with the current flurry of work. [Thank you, God, for sending work AND clients who pay on time.]

They had received some birthday money from the very same Aunt Charlotte, so they used this to buy some Christmas DVDs. I picked up three extension cords and a fourth outdoor lighted tree. I'm not putting lights on the house this year. The ones we had for the old house don't work and it's "enough" out there this year to have lighted swag on the front porch railing and the four Christmas "trees" lighting the front path. I LOVE a big outdoor display, and I fully intend to embarass all the neighbors with my lights as the years go by, but we'll add a little something each year. After all, we are never, ever moving again.

Then we went to Barns and Noble to spend some gift cards they received from Aunt Karen and Uncle Jason. They picked out two noisy make-me-crazy books with the buttons that make those obnoxious noises and two coloring books. I let them, but I told them they had to save the coloring books for church.

Well, it's 8:27 am. Time to wrangle the crew into their winter coats and head off to church. Happy last day of Thanksgiving break to everyone.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!!

I had the most wonderful thanksgiving EVER!!

My brother and sister-in-law pulled off the surprise of the century by showing off their freshly printed 12 WEEK ULTRASOUND PICTURES!!!!

I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT!!!

And oh bless them, my brother and sister-in-law are two of the most beautiful and smart specimens of humanity on the planet. That kid is going to be deadly in both departments.

I'm going to be an auuuunt,
I'm going to be an auuuunt,
Auntie Auntie Alaska,
Yay!!!

I'm. so. happy.

Culinary Adventures

So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and we're going to my brother's house. I was asked to bring rolls. I kept offering desserts or something a wee bit more challenging to make, but they're having the event catered and it pretty much includes everything. In fact, I think they just mentioned the rolls to humor me because they knew I'd cry if I wasn't allowed to cook or bake something for the event.

So I thought I'd at least try a new recipe. I looked through the "Christmas breads" sections of the first cookbook I picked off the shelf and it mentioned a Swedish Christmas wreath. I hopped online to find a picture of a Swedish Christmas wreath and found someone's blog about a Swedish Christmas, but no pictures of a bread-like wreath. I kept googling and soon came up with someone else's blog about St. Lucia bread -- made with saffron. That sounded like fun, so I googled around some more but all the recipes were in metric measurements. I couldn't grok that. What to do? What to do?

So I called Manitoba. Instead of converting my measurements, she offered her OWN favorite roll recipe. Zweibach. I thought that was funny because here in the states, Zweibach is synonymous with "inedible teething biscuits that form quick-drying concrete after contact with baby drool." I didn't mention that just in case that was offensive.

She sent me the recipe. I dutifully followed it. But back in that first recipe book there was also a recipe for Chinese meat rolls and that looked promising for dinner because I had beef in the crockpot and no real idea about what I was going to do with it. It was some strange part of the cow I'd never cooked before and despite my best efforts to cut it off, there was still a TON of fat left in it. So I strained the broth and put that in the fridge so I could skim the fat off the top and freeze the broth. I painstakingly separated the good beef from the ick that was left, gave the dogs the half-dozen bones left over (they were thrilled), and threw away all the remaining ick.

But now what to do with the beef? What ever portion of the cow this was, it wasn't the tastiest.

So I made the Chinese meat rolls dough. Then I made the Mennonite Zweibach (which is about 1 and a half cups of sugar from being butter cookies) dough. Then I made the St. Lucia saffron dough. And let it all rise.

Now it's 9 pm and so far we've . . .

* finished the Chinese meat rolls. This was a surprise success. Completely contrary to typical form, the boys launched right into the strange new food without pause and gobbled it down crying, "More! More!" I ate mine but found the beef mixture dry. That would have been less likely if I'd followed the directions as written -- the meat is normally put in the steamed rolls raw and then cooks as the rolls steam. But even so I was thrilled to discover that the roll part of it was absolutely perfect and if I can just find a good pork pot-sticker recipe, I'll be able to make steamed dumplings.

* finished the Mennonite Zweibach. Now, THIS was funny. I was told to roll the balls into something between a plum and a peach. I did that, but closer to the peach than the plum. Maybe big peaches. Then to put a walnut sized top on. I think I did that. Or maybe they were more like really small plums? I then let them rise for 40 minutes (and rise they did) and then put them in a preheated oven for 25 minutes. When the timer went off at 25 minutes I checked them and it was clear that they'd been plotting to take over the kitchen just before dying from heat. They were huge, they'd spread OFF the enormous large baking stove, and they smelled great. I gave them five more minutes and then pulled the shelf out of the oven. I had to gently pull each roll from the big roll hive that had formed and place them on the cooling rack. I couldn't lift the stone out otherwise because there were no exposed edges.

I'm now waiting for the baking stone to cool before I give the saffron bread a shot.

Hey, you know what was cool? One of the other couples from church called tonight at 8:30 to see if we had plans for Thanksgiving Day! They were going to invite us over to play. A wee bit late in the planning department, but I thought it was awfully kind (and in any 0ther year, the sort of thing we might do).

Alright, time to get the kids in bed. Big day tomorrow, and there's still St. Lucia bread to bake. Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I wish you all full bellies, fast traffic, and fun with your friends and relatives.

Monday

I spent the first part of the day working on one project. Sent it out the door and spent another two hours putting out fires on another work project. I fed the kids something -- Max decided it was inadequate and dug out the quesadilla maker and made quesadillas for everyone to go with it. I love that boy. I threw on my shoes and got out side to help Chris rake leaves.

We've kinda let the place go ::cough::. Truthfully, we've done next to no raking this whole fall. I got out there twice and moved some leaves around, but nothing really got done. Well, it's supposed to drop into the icky temperatures and rain and sleet the rest of the week. Sensing that this might be the last day that the job wasn't beyond horrible, we got out there and raked and blew and hauled and dumped a quarter acre of leaves that were about, oh, 8 inches deep. Dude. Those are some BIG Oak trees surrounding our yard.

On the upside, I can check exercising off my list for a few days ;)

At some point I threw together a double batch of pizza dough and put that out to rise. It was ready to become pizza when I came in from raking. About the time that the cheese pizza was finishing up, the missionaries arrived. They played with the kids while I finished the ground beef pizza. We ate, we talked -- and now I'm back at my computer trying to find two synapses to rub together to finish up some work.

I am not your broom! I am not your broom!

Lots of nothing points if you know the source of that quote.

Today I knew I needed to clean. The missionaries are coming for dinner tomorrow evening, I can't decorate for Christmas until the carpet's been cleaned, and I have a Pampered Chef party planned for next Saturday.

But, I didn't want to. I was tired. I was gwouchy. I did what any great procrastinator does, I planned. I made a To-Do list. When I was done I had to admit that at least one of the items couldn't be put off no matter how much I wanted to. So I dressed the twins and we went off to the grocery store to get vegetable oil and toilet paper. On the way there, I turned on the radio and discovered that one of my presets -- a "soft rock" station that makes Chris' ears bleed -- has converted to all Holiday music all the time for the rest of the season. Now, my memory is that usually we don't get holiday music until Thanksgiving day, but I guess now it's the first day of Thanksgiving week.

It was just what I needed though. If you play ALL Holiday music all day long, day after day, your holiday music selections had better be pretty deep. I ended up listening all day as I cleaned, music cranked up as loud as my little boom box goes, and I didn't hear one repeat.

Tis the season to shampoo your carpet, fa la la la la la la la la . . .

So I sorted, tossed, and weeded out the kids toys. Buh-bye happy meal toys. Buh-bye broken things. Hello room for whatever Santa brings. I didn't get to the two big ugly spots in the basement -- the junk displaced by the wood pellets, and um, my office corner (it gets ugly fast). But I got the toys done, worked on dishes, washed a lot of laundry, tidied and vacuumed the livingroom, broke down and reassembled the carpet shampooer before having to admit that, um, it's not long for this world.

Tonight I'll fold and put away that laundry and finish the last of the kitchen except the floor.

Tomorrow I'll work, then I'll do the kitchen floor, cook for the gang plus two hungry 19 year olds, and tomorrow night I'll tackle shampooing the hallway.

Tuesday, I promised Max, is set up the Christmas tree day. I have to set up the tree before he can set up the Christmas slot track that will run around its base.

Then I get to spend the rest of Tuesday and Wednesday decorating and tackling those ugly spots in the basement. It's my goal to be completely decorated BEFORE going to my brother and sister-in-law's house for Thanksgiving so that I can have Friday to prepare for Saturday's pampered chef shindig.

I don't know what I'm doing for work in December, but I do have work, LOL. I just don't have the specifics. But I do know I get most of this coming week off and that's great :)