older and wiser?

Well, let me see.


There was the time I tore a ligament in my foot doing Jane Fonda aerobics and refused to not finish the class. I ended up on crutches for weeks, and I swear I can sometimes feel that very same ligament twinge. That one I can chalk up to being young and stupid.


Then there was the time I tried to slice my thumb off while cutting up food for my then pet parrot. Several hours of microsurgery and hundreds of stitches later, my "reward" is a scar on my left hand that is quite the attention grabber. I can blame that one on handling carbon steel knives without enough caffeine running through my system. And being young and stupid.


I once waded through a flooded house and grabbed at the handle of a still plugged in fridge. Bad idea. (Young and really stupid). At my dad's house, I turned the gas up too high on the gas grill and ended up burning off my left eyebrow and all of my eyelashes when it ignited on me. (Young, stupid and funny looking). This was the same grill, now that I think about it, where I once absent-mindedly flipped a steak over onto my other hand and gave myself second degree burns. This happened the day before I was going home to California, so I spent the entire plane flight with my hand stuck in a big cup of ice water. (Young, stupid and clumsy).


There was the great Entertainment Center Throwdown of 2007, which left me with a scar on my shinbone from knee to ankle. And the time I got dragged half a block by a German Shepard on a cat finding expedition, taking all the skin off both knees. And the time the above mentioned parrot tried to stop himself from falling off of my shoulder by grabbing onto my nose with his beak. That wasn't pretty. Who knew a nose could make a noise like that? I could go on, but I think I've made my point. You could sell tickets to a guided tour of the scars on my body.


But I'm making a lot of changes in my life, and not repeating past mistakes, so I thought I'd try something new this time. This time I figured I'd hurt myself and not leave a permanent mark. I wanted to lay the Young and Stupid mantle to rest and start working on Older and Wiser. This may be a very long process.


Today - two weeks and four days after Dee Dee the wonder dog knocked me down the stairs, eight twelve hour shifts under the bridge, many Christmas shopping trips finished, three quarters of a bottle of Lortabs and countless Ibuprofens later - I finally went to the doctor. It took a co-worker picking up the phone and dialing the number for me (and then standing there while I actually made the appointment). If stupidity was a sport, I'd be a gold medallist.


My ankle is fractured. Distal fibula, to be exact. It's not a huge break - both the ER doc and the radiologist missed it, probably because of the swelling. But it's damn clear now. The good news is that it's a break that can heal even when bearing weight, as long as it's supported by my lovely ankle boot. The bad news is that the ortho doc sat across from me with a work release form and said "Tell me what you want and I'll write it. Do you want off work for the next six weeks? Do you want to work half-shifts? Quarter? Name it and it's yours."


And I said, "Oh, it's okay. I'll be all right working."


Old and stupid? You be the judge.

a weekend off??

I guess we're coming into the time of year where blogging may get a little spotty - and I guess I'm starting right now. I'll be back Monday or Tuesday, but at the moment I'm just overwhelmed. All it took was one sick kid today to upset the balance, and to be quite honest, I think it says somewhere in my mommy contract that a puking kid takes precedence over posting. I should have looked more closely at that thing before I signed it.


Don't get too excited - I'll be back.

some cheese with that?

Well, well. It looks like my super downer of a post Lost Time co-won a Post of the Week. Many thanks to Elizabeth for the nomination. Can I just tell you how much I appreciate that?? Mwah!


And that's my post for tonight. No awards for this one, trust me. I've had a very stressful day at work - the first of four in a row. There's an ice storm heading our way and my kids are bouncing off the walls over the hope of a snow day. I walked in the door to Surfer Dude having a meltdown over a book report due tomorrow that ultimately ended with me typing it all out for him because of a computer snafu. And at the risk of being a big old whiner, my foot is fricking killing me. It hurts worse now than it did when I originally hurt it. Our ER docs are telling me I need to go to an orthopedist. (Orthopod?) Whee. Considering that I'm working six out of the next eight days, that doesn't seem bloody likely, does it?


Is there an award for the whiniest blogger? If there is...sign me up.

The Thursday Three

What's a holiday without cookies? What's a Thursday without T3? And thanks to Susan, aka My Two Cents for the idea of combining the two.


Favorite Holiday Cookies (and a recipe or two)


#1. Shortbread. This recipe came from my friend Monique a long, long time ago, and it's still my favorite shortbread ever. Absolutely delicious. And easy. Did I mention easy?


Monique's Scotch Shortbread

5 oz. softened sweet butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup flour

Mix. Press in pie pan. Prick top all over with a fork. Bake 30 minutes at 325 degrees. Cut warm. Sprinkle with sugar. Eat the whole pan. (Oh, alright. I added that last part).



#2. Pfefferneuse. Well, specifically Trader Joe's Pfefferneuse. For years, we would get care packages from my mom -either through the mail or in person. The Pfefferneuse season at TJ's usually runs from right before Thanksgiving to New Years. I don't know what it is that makes these so good, but for the entire month of December my family runs around with powdered sugar rings around our mouths. Not this year, though. In the great TJ's Pfefferneuse shortage of 2008 (why would I expect anything less this year, seriously?) they changed their packaging and ran out almost immediately. We have a recipe to try at the lake next week. Cross your fingers.



#3. Gingersnaps. We all love gingersnaps, and these are the best I've ever had. The fact that they're low-fat is a complete bonus. We don't normally dip them, but if you have the desire, it just makes them twice as good. We made a batch of these this week and Gumby and Surfer Dude took them in to class "just because". Surfer Dude was thrilled when his teacher threatened him with repeating sixth grade unless he brought in more cookies.



Funny aside about these cookies. I use a lot of spices in my cooking and have a pretty comprehensive spice cupboard. The turnover is pretty high, since I believe what I read about spices losing their flavor over time. But I had bought a restaurant supply size bottle of ground ginger which continued to smell and taste just fine. I used it rarely, because with most things needing ginger I used fresh. Well, we used the last three teaspoons of it in these cookies - and it was the end of an era. We had moved this bottle of ginger to Kansas with us...in the summer of 1999.


That's some seriously potent stuff.

for my third trick

Years and years ago, back when I was in college the first time, a boyfriend and I went white water rafting in Northern California for the weekend. On the last day, we decided to try something different and went inner tubing instead. Sounds simple on the surface. Instead of being in a multi-person raft in the rapids, you're in a single person inner tube barreling toward...something. And you're doing it fast.



Somehow we ended up taking the wrong fork of the river, and what did we see ahead of us but a dead tree laying directly across the water we were speeding over. A nasty splat seemed inevitable. I've blocked out exactly how this happened, but one of us decided that the best thing to do was to try to grab a low hanging branch to stop ourselves. So we did. The folly of this was apparent immediately, as we clung to dear life on the branches with our upper bodies, while our lower bodies were almost horizontal from the force of the water.



As we hung on - damned if we did and damned if we didn't - I turned to him and said, "I can see the newspaper headline now. Stupid Southern Californians Rescued from Tree on the American River."



Needless to say, we survived. But today this Stupid Southern Californian drove the interstate during a snowstorm. And even though the only similarity with the first episode is that I spent the day writing newspaper headlines in my mind, there is one thing that comes to mind. The process. Sometimes it's all in how you get there.



When we woke up this morning it was to many inches of snow and more in the forecast. When I drove my kids to school, I slipped and slid all over the place. When I stopped to think that I needed to drive the hour each way to pick up Mom and Stu at the airport, I got a little antsy. I'm not a good snow driver. I've actually had friends force me out of the drivers seat of my own car so they could take over. The fact that I was facing oncoming traffic at the time was not lost on me.



Anyway...



I timed my day to run a couple of errands, pick up Surfer Dude from school early to go with me, and hit the road. At the appointed time, I trudged out of the house, all babushked up, started my car and pulled out the window scraper. By the time I was done I was cold and wet, and my right foot, daintily ensconced in an open toed to the knee walking boot, was covered in snow. If you're going to tweak your ankle, I highly recommend winter time for it. Warm toes are completely overrated. I went to climb back in the car and head out.


The door was locked. The door that is supposed to be unable to lock with the keys in the ignition unless you're in the car...was locked. And all of its little door friends - in solidarity - were locked as well.


And my keys were in the car.


Which was still running.


And so was my phone.


And I don't stash a spare house key under the mat.


And thanks to Sasquatch, I only have one car key.


And I needed to be on the road in thirty minutes.


Today's headline: Stupid Kansan Wishes She Was Still On the American River.


To make a long story short, I ended up walking to Gumby's school and getting his key. (Three and a half blocks each way). Then I tore the house apart looking for the spare keyless remote for my car that the FX gave me back when he moved out. Found that and got in the car. Which had miraculously not been stolen. Picked up Surfer Dude more or less on time, and was so stressed out from all of that that I barely even noticed that I was slipping and sliding all over the interstate. Picked up the folks, came home, made dinner, climbed into bed, and am just now able to feel my toes. Note to self: tomorrow try four pair of socks on right foot instead of three.


The major piece of good news in this whole scenario was provided by my back door. For months I've been griping that the door doesn't close right and that any moron on a mission would be able to kick in my door in about four seconds flat. Well, I stand corrected. The moron on a mission today couldn't make the door budge.


Even with the kick-ass ankle boot.

talk is cheap

Sasquatch: Mom, can I have some money to go downtown? Can we go out to dinner instead of making it? Can't we just order a pizza? I'm tired of pasta (chili, stir-fry, soup) - I want meat. Lots and lots of meat. Can I have two people over to spend the night on Friday? Yes? Can I have three? Four? Five? Will you drive me to the comic book store so I can buy a pack of Magic cards? Will you give me the money to go to the comic book store so I can buy a pack of Magic cards? Will you drive to the ATM to get the money to give me so I can go to the comic book store and buy a pack of Magic cards? Whaddya mean it's nasty outside? It's not an actual blizzard. It's only fifteen below. I don't need a jacket. I have a hoodie. It's not even cold out there. You're such an alarmist. (and so on and so on and so on until I want to scream).



Gumby: So I'm building this alternate world in my computer game and I'm having trouble with the Derschnitzes. Whaddya mean you don't know what a Derschnitz is? I've told you a whole bunch of times. The Derschnitzes are the ones who exploded the universe and killed all the Hobblegangers before the fall of the Weebleblitzers. Whaddya mean you don't remember the Weebleblitzers? They're the ones who threw a flameball the size of Wyoming into the den of the Boobiebuckers until they finally gave in and brought them the head of the king of the Whosiewhatsis on a platter. Why do you have so much trouble keeping this all straight? It's really simple. Here, I'll explain it all from the beginning. (and so on and so on and so on as my eyes glaze over).



Surfer Dude: What would you rather do? Go without food for a year or not be allowed to go to the bathroom? How about this? Would you rather eat a maggot covered rotten banana or a live spider rolled in poop? Would you rather be locked in a trunk for a week or nailed in a closet? Would you rather have a finger or a toe chopped off? If you had to give one of us up for adoption which one of my brothers would it be? What's your favorite place you've ever been? Why? If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life what would it be? Why? What's the maddest you've ever been? Why? What's the best movie you've ever seen? Why? What's your favorite Beatles song? Why? Who was the best teacher you ever had? Why? Why do you have that look on your face? Does something hurt? (and so on and so on and so on until my head explodes).


I always said I wanted verbal kids.


Why?

give peace a chance

Sometimes it's easy to spin your wheels endlessly and just hope to god you get through the day. A lot of days are like that, actually. Of course, this time of year is notorious for making even the calmest and most easy going people (present company definitely excluded) feel like they're in a dawn to dusk free fall. It's not a nice feeling, as I'm sure we can all attest. And the harder you try to break the cycle, the more the fates seem to delight in showing you - yet again - that you just have to suck it up and muddle through. These are truly the days where life seems like all work and no joy.


But...


Sometimes in the chaos, there's a moment. A moment that seems to sneak through all the crap and bring with it a shining glimmer of contentment. These are almost always small moments, borne of small things. A slice of clarity in a crazy world. A reason to get up the next day. A sense of peace. I love those moments. One of them can keep me going for days. And I had one tonight.


We had a busy day. A good day, but full. All kinds of holiday stuff on top of the usual getting ready for the week, plus my folks are coming Tuesday and my ankle is still tweaked so I'm slow and the weather has not been our friend and a million other little details. One by one, we tackled everything we needed to do. Got the tree. Hauled all the decorations down from the storage loft in the garage. Laundry. Groceries. Stacked firewood. Bagged leaves. Dinner. Collapse.


Freshly showered and in my most comfortable pajamas, I climbed into bed, newly made up with just out of the dryer bedding. My mega mug of steaming decaf chocolate hazelnut tea was on the bedside table. The apple pie from dessert was sitting snugly in my belly. My sweet dog was curling up around my feet, resting his nose against my toes with a sigh. Kids were either showering or on their way to bed. Outside, the wind roared and the sleet slapped against my windows. I felt like all was right with the world. I felt warm, I felt indecently cozy, I felt...peace. And from such ordinary, run of the mill things.


These may be small moments, but they're wonderful nevertheless.