(A one-hour later update: The first line was supposed to read, I'm too addled to think long enough to write a coherent blog post. See? What did I tell you? I rest my case.)
Then why, you ask, are you here?
Because I wanna be. Stuff it.
It’s probably not a good omen to go on and on about an event that hasn’t even happened yet, so I won’t. Instead, I’ll rattle off about everything else that flits through my head. Thinking about other things should help me relax, right?
We’ve been doing a lot of sorting of closest and clothes.
Piles got obliterated, packaged up, or reorganized, depending.
Bedrooms have been rearranged. Shoe shelves built. Clothes ironed.
More closets await overhaulage. Bookshelves must materialize ASAP.
News flash: There is NO END to projects such as these. Nothing is EVER done. BRINGING ORDER OUT OF CHAOS IS A LOSING BATTLE.
My rational brain has made peace with the fact that I will forever be in this constant state of war.
My emotive brain has not.
I made a turkey dinner last night.
There was a roast turkey (of course), stuffing, gravy, corn, the cabbage slaw (recipe to follow and then be made pronto because you will LOVE it), butternut squash gratin (we, it turns out, prefer our unadorned version), and cranberry relish. My kids were shocked that there was no dessert.
I was shocked they had the nerve to point that out.
The ungrateful wretches.
(Not true, really. They were thrilled—thrilled—with the turkey. I think the Baby Nickel ate half the bird.)
One Sunday a couple weeks ago, a miracle happened:we were ready for church ahead of time. So I ordered everyone outside and made them stand there, shivering, while I took some pictures.
Not a one of them turned out picture perfect (i.e. everyone looking at the camera and smiling beatifically).
Which leads me to conclude that we’re not a picture perfect family.
Then I hopped in the car (we were getting dangerously close to the EVERYBODY GET IN THE CAR RIGHT THIS MINUTE-WE ARE LATE-HURRY HURRY HURRY moment) with my camera in hand and snapped pictures the whole drive in. This is what we see when we drive to church on Sunday mornings. (The hot air balloon was a bonus.)
While I, black box pressed to my eyeball, enjoyed the frosty morning, the kids bickered and yowled and Mr. Handsome hissed at me to please put the camera down NOW and Attend, Bob! Attend! (name that movie). I, however, blithely turned a deaf ear and clicked steadfastly on. In this here bat house/car, one must fight tooth and nail to cultivate any artistic yearnings.
I am (slo-o-o-wly) turning my attention to the upcoming festivities.
Today, Mr. Handsome is (hopefully) procuring some white lights, snow flurries are in the forecast, I assessed the votive situation (deplorable), and then, before lunch, I plopped down by the fire to make a to-bake list of cookies.
Heading up the list were butter cookies and gingerbread men, cranberry-orange biscotti and raisin-filled cookies. A smattering of new-to-me recipes followed, recipes that involved anise, lemon, dates, and figs.
Soon, next week, I shall commence to don an apron and brandish a set of beaters. Life should be very sweet indeed.
But now. That cabbage salad I told you about.
It’s really just an alteration of the two cabbage salads that I already have on this blog, but seeing as it’s so blessedly swoony, it deserves its own little spot in bloggyland.
Mom’s New and Improved Cabbage Salad
½ large head of green cabbage (Chinese would work well, too), finely chopped
2 yellow/golden/green apples, unpeeled, cored, and chopped
1 ½ cup white cheddar cheese
3/4 cup buttered pecans
1 recipe olive oil-sour cream dressing
Toss the apples and cabbage with the dressing. (At this point, the salad can be stored in the fridge for several hours, maybe even a day or two.)
Immediately before serving, stir in the cheese and sprinkle with the pecans.
This same time, years previous: Beef Bourguignon and Potatoes in Cream with Gruyere