My Toddler is Secretly British

It was bound to happen, what with all the BBC programming we watch and his nickname and perhaps with the influence of genetics thrown in as well.  The Hobbit has begun to speak with a British accent.  Not every word, just a few here and there.  Sometimes he confesses to being “cheeky” or “chuffed.”   And really, it’s not so much British sounding as Mrs. Doubtfire-ish.  Remember that scene where Robin Williams dips his face in the meringue?  ”Oh, hellooooooooooo!”  It’s like that, and applies to any word with a long ‘o’ sound at the end.

I suspect The Hobbit’s cousin who paid us a recent  had something to do with this new dialect. Knowing this cousin’s penchant for dressing toddlers like old men/women, I will have to keep a sharp eye out for any suspenders, ascots, smoking jackets or monocles that make their way into his wardrobe without explanation.

National Chocolate Cake Day

Holy toledo, how have I not been celebrating this glorious day of observation before now?  Granted, I probably have several days throughout the year in which I celebrate chocolate cake, just not in a national awareness kind of way.  So go have some.  The calories don’t count when it’s a holiday.

 

Cool Music

I have a toddler and I’m a stay-at-home mom, so I rarely get to watch any TV that isn’t animated and an even more rare treat for me is listening to music that isn’t on The Hobbit’s approved play list, so I am not exactly up-to-date with the latest and greatest in the world of music.  For all I know, this is old news and everyone knows about this but me and the other parents who are enslaved to the whims of their children’s taste in music, but I thought this was pretty cool to share.

Fakefish showed me this video the other night.  He likes the song because it reminds him of old Sting, and Fakefish has little appreciation for anything recorded and released after, oh, 1992, so he was really excited about this song.  The song is “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye.  The video is kinda cool, too, if you don’t mind scrawny naked guys.

Then, he shows me this cover version by Walk Off the Earth:

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!  If you have EVER played a piano duet with someone all up in your personal space and fighting for elbow room and butt space on a bench, you know what it’s like to share an instrument and to fight the urge to just bump that other person off the bench.  Five people!  One guitar!  No personal space!  Ok, maybe it’s just me with the self-restraint issues on sharing personal space.  (Side Bar:  One of my nephews shared a nice little Boy Scout phrase with me called “The Circle of Blood,” and that’s the berth you’re supposed to give someone who is using a knife; stay outside of the reach of the knife.  If you’re within the reach of the knife, that’s puts you within The Circle of Blood.  I kinda like that for defining my personal space with strangers, acquaintances, or pretty much anyone who isn’t my husband or kid.) I’m impressed.  It actually made me want to go and play something, and there is isn’t a heck of a lot of new music out there that gives me the old goosebumps of motivation and well, at the risk of sounding cheesy, inspires me.

I may be behind the times on hearing about these guys, but I’m glad I did.  Neat stuff.

Facepalm and Flirty Toddler

This morning was one of those Monday mornings that was masquerading as a Tuesday.  I hate those little bastards.   I barely function coherently on  Tuesday mornings as it is, since I stay up late to watch Castle on Monday nights.  Usually a cup of coffee gets the old synapses firing and once again, all is right with the world.  But not this morning.  I seriously think I made Fakefish’s breakfast and lunch while still asleep.  It all passed in a fog, so there’s no telling what I actually packed in that poor man’s lunch box.  Beets with a side of sauerkraut?  A piece of cardboard smeared with cream cheese?  I’m not sure.  I hope he survives the day, as I am rather partial to him.

The Hobbit has a wee bit of a cold and with my slow motion speed, it was a miracle we made it out the door to get to pre-school on time, but we did.  I grabbed my keys, the kiddo had his school bag and was headed for the truck, when I locked the handle on the front door and went to go lock the deadbolt only to discover I had the wrong set of keys.  No house key, only the spare truck key.  Sigh.

I took the kid to school, went to Target for cat food ( they’ll eat my face off if I don’t feed them) and back home to get our spare key from the neighbors.  Only, they weren’t home.  ARGH.  Ok, not that big of a deal, I had another option and headed over to my mother-in-law’s house to borrow her key.  I rang the door bell and was enthusiastically greeted by her dog, Timmy, who would have gladly permitted me access if only he’d had opposable thumbs.  That wouldn’t have done me much good though, since my MIL wasn’t home and our key is on her key ring.

Good for What Ail's Ya

Things weren’t as bleak as they sound, though.  I had bought some chocolate at Target.  I could have stayed locked out of the house forever, as long as there was chocolate, because that makes everything all better, including Dementor attacks.  Yes, I think I’ll throw that in there and blame this entire thing on happiness-sucking fictional creatures.  Sounds good to me.

I blame the Dementors. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I left my MIL’s house and stopped to buy  gas and to call my MIL  to see if she was anywhere within 20 miles of our zip code.  Thankfully, she was, and she was able to meet me at the house and let me in.  Also, by that time, one of the neighbors with our spare key had returned home, so one way or the other I was going to make it back into the house without breaking and entering.  Hooray!

My MIL stuck around for a bit and we chatted about the company that we’d had over the weekend.  One of my nephews (Micah) and his newly minted finance (Abby) were visiting.  She’s now met most of our family and is still willing to marry him, which could quite possibly make her the kindest, sweetest, most understanding human being ever.  The Hobbit has given Abby his seal of approval, too.  He talked to her right away, held her hand when we were out sight seeing, and was handing out hugs like they were going out of style.  He even cried when he learned that the happy couple would have to leave and we couldn’t keep them forever for him to play with, you know, like some really awesome pets just for him.  Usually he’s suspicious, cautious and pulls his Michigan J. Frog routine when meeting new people.

The best point came when we were driving to the BART station to drop off Abby & Micah.   Abby was scrunched in the middle of the back seat between the Hobbit in his car seat and Micah.  It was close quarters, but no one was complaining.  Micah had his arm around Abby, and she was holding the hand of the arm draped around her shoulders.  Not to be outdone by his cousin when it comes to winning the affection of Fair Maidens, the Hobbit looked over and with his big blue eyes in a Puss in Boots, awwwwww-inducing look, asked Abby to hold his hand.  To Abby’s credit, she let go of Micah’s hand to hold the Hobbit’s hand.  Micah thought it was funny.  Fakefish smiled and had that, “Yeahhhh, that’s my boy!” look on his face.  I figure Micah better watch out or the Hobbit will steal his girl away if he’s not careful, provided she’s willing to wait 15 years for him to be legal.

Black Out

I was really trying to keep up with the SOPA/PIPA information.  The possibility of that legislation passing into law made me hoppin’ mad, and by George, I wanted to do something about it.  So imagine my surprise when I didn’t learn about the proposed content black out scheduled for January 18th on the eve of the actual black out.  It was like discovering at 5 minutes to midnight before the year 2000 that Y2K was a possibility.  I went into panic mode for a couple minutes as I tried to prepare.  Was there content I needed to print to hard copy or store on my computer since it wouldn’t be available?  Do I need bottled water or 3 days supply of field rations?  A supply of antibiotics and a shot gun for the zombies?  Holy crap!  I was soooooooo unprepared!  I could just picture the internet being, well, silent.  It would be 1990 all over again, which wasn’t a bad year, but there was NO EMAIL.  I was having imaginary DTs just thinking of the possibility.

Well, once I calmed down, I looked up some info and found ways to redirect people from my site to a petition site.  There was this easy to use piece of java script code that was only supposed to work for 24 hours (like Ritalin?) and could be embedded into the header of the site’s theme.  Ok, cool, I can participate, make a difference, take a stand, and never have to get out of my pajamas.  Right?  Wrong.  Apparently I am too Cro Magnon Man to pull it off.  I really could have used one of those Geico Cavemen to help me out with the IT side of things.  I didn’t get the code posted.  Bummer.  By big chance to protest, and I didn’t get it done.

I did manage to throw my hat in on the petition, glad some of the Big Boys of the Internet stepped up and hope it all did some good.

Brew A Potion Day

Today is National Brew A Potion Day.  I don’t have any potions in my vast collection of cook books (surprising, eh?), but I do have a splendid redneckified (Yes, it’s a real word.  I just made it up.  I’ll be adding a Wikipedia entry for it shortly.) version of the Bloody Mary, which I like to call Red Neck Mary.  Get your favorite beer, a little can of tomato juice or V8, and mix equal parts beer and juice.   Give it a dash or two of celery salt, or if you’re really in a spicy mood add some Tobasco.

 

I’m Away From My Life Right Now, Please Leave a Message at the Beep

I’m sleep deprived.  My right arm is sore.  The dining room table is covered with fabric and embroidery thread and my sewing machine and light box and sketches on paper and scribbles and it is absolute chaos.  All of this is because I’m Working on a Project.  That means I neglect the house keeping until we have either a.) run out of clean forks or b.) the floor is no longer visible in more than 60% of the house.  I get a little involved when I delve into a project.

What is this marvelous thing I am investing so much time and attention in?  Why, I’m so glad you asked!  It’s a tote bag.  A quilted, embroidered, appliqued tote bag.  And it’s got a Harry Potter theme. There are 18 panels, nine on each side of the bag, each one featuring an embroidered or appliqued element from the Harry Potter books.  Fakefish has been asking for clarification on what each thing is (he hasn’t read the books or seen the movies, nor does he want to) then gives me a little indulgent pat on the head or shoulder.  I know I’m a dork, and I’m okay with that.  I embrace it, celebrate it, and apparently get obsessed with tote bags as a result.

The bag isn’t quite done, but the labor intensive portion is completed to a point where I can share photos and it won’t look like a huge pile of brightly colored bits of fabric.  See, the initial planning stage looked something like this:

And this:

Then after a bit, there was some of this going on:

In between there and the next shot were several days where I didn’t manage to get out of my pajamas until late afternoon because I was so busy doing embroidery and scouring the web for images I could convert into patterns.  But what I have ended up with is this:

Left to right, first row:  Padfoot, Invisibility Cloak, Hogwarts Crest.  Second Row:  Whomping Willow, “This Button is a port key”, Honeydukes & Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes & other HP foods.

Top Row:  Sorting Hat, Harry’s Glasses, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good/Mischief Managed”.  Second Row:  Hagrid’s hut, Snitch, Fawkes the Phoenix.  Third Row:  9 3/4, Hedwig, Wand.

I gotta say, I have gone and impressed myself with my 8th grade home ec sewing skills maxed out on this one.  I didn’t use a pattern, but did find a handy tutorial online to help with the bag construction.  I hope to make it out to a fabric store later this week to find the perfect fabric to line the bag and make the handles, then I’ll share the finished product.      Until then, I will be attempting to tame my house since it appears to have gone feral while I wasn’t looking.

National Handwriting Day

Happy National Handwriting Day!  Did you know some school districts are phasing out the requirement of learning how to write in cursive?  How sad!  I remember how excited I was in second grade to learn how to write in cursive and I would practice certain words over and over and over again.  My favorite was “jet”, using the fabulous lower case ‘j’.  I was a little obsessed, actually, which is probably one of the many things that led my second grade teacher to believe I was emotionally disturbed, but that’s a story for another time.

I love writing, actually picking up a pen and putting ink to paper.  I write letters galore, keep journals, and any time I make a zine or essay, my first draft is always handwritten, because I am heart a writer, not a typist.  Typing has its place, love it to bits, and obviously I wouldn’t be able to publish this blog without it,  but at the moment, I’m celebrating antiquated modes of communication.

So, celebrate National Handwriting Day with a written note to someone, get your handwriting converted into a font (here) or just read more about it at the Writing Instrument Manufacturer’s Association (WIMA).

Back In The Kitchen

There was a new episode of Castle last night, so I was back in the kitchen baking delectable breakfast-y bread so that I could stay up late to watch my show, and hopefully sleep in a bit.  This week’s creation is Orange Cream Cheese Bread.  I got the recipe from Just A Pinch, but made some alterations to the posted recipe.  It was well worth making again and sharing.

Orange Cream Cheese Bread

1 – 8 oz. package cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup shortening
1 2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
2 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1 Tbl baking powder
1 cup milk
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Zest of one orange
Juice from one orange

1. Combine cream cheese and shortening, creaming well.

2. Gradually add sugar, beating until light and fluffy.

3. Add eggs, beating well after each addition.

4. Combine flour, baking powder and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with milk, beginning and ending with flour mixture. Mix well after each addition.

5. Zest orange using a microplane zester. Stir in walnuts and orange peel.

6. Pour batter into 2 greased and floured loaf pans (I used Pam cooking spray instead, and the loaves came out beautifully once cooked).

7. Bake at 375 degrees F for 55 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted into center comes out clean.

8.  While bread is cooking, juice the orange and mix together juice and powdered sugar to create a glaze.

9. Let cool in pan for 10 minutes.  Poke holes in bread with fork or wooden skewer.  Pour glaze over bread.  Remove loaves to wire rack to finish cooling.

Under My Rock

I confess, I have been hiding under a rock all week.  Sometimes it’s nice to be quiet, think about stuff, crochet too many scarves (three at last count – there was a sale on yarn at JoAnn Fabrics), and focus on ye olde internal landscape.  There has been no single big thing keeping me away from my desk, but several medium-to-small events keeping me busy.

Preschool is in session again for The Hobbit.  We are BOTH delighted.  Starting next week he has a new teacher.  Same classroom, same assistants, same friends, just a different teacher.  His previous teacher moved up to the next age level (a teacher quit, staff was shuffled, no one seemed too happy about the change) and his new teacher is Miss Belinda.  Seriously, it was all I could do NOT to ask her if “Heaven is a Place on Earth” or to coach The Hobbit to tell her he’s “Mad About You.”   And if you don’t know who I’m referring to, you’re either my mother or not old enough to cross the street without an adult, which means everyone under the age of 35.

One of my nephews got engaged last week.  He did great with the proposal, even though it took his entire village to pull it off and literally EVERYONE on both sides of the family knew this was going down… except the lucky bride to be.  So there’s a little more love and happiness out there in the world at the moment, before the stress and confusion of wedding planning really grips them, and that makes me happy.

Our furnace is going out, but that’s ok.  We have a fireplace with an insert and can get a rip-roaring, sauna-like effect with little effort.   I suspect we’ll put off replacing the furnace as long as possible because it’s not just a matter of driving to Home Depot, buying a replacement wall furnace and popping it into place.    As anyone who has known us for more than five minutes knows, if there is Money To Be Spent then for Fakefish, there is Research To Be Done.  The length, breadth, and depth of research is directly proportionate to the Amount of Money Being Spent.  He won’t rest until he has found the Balance of Efficiency and Cost, with much indecision, mutterings, and frowning before a decision can be reached.  Once a decision is reached, then we have to remove the old one and dispose of it properly according to California law (I imagine we’ll have to have it buried in consecrated ground and blessed by a Shaman), then the wall in which is resides will need to be reframed.  Once the wall is reframed, we will have to remove all the 1970s dark wood paneling (why yes, that is a hint of glee in my voice!), repair and/or replace sheet rock, texture the wall, and paint it.   They might be able to do that on a 15 minute segment on This Old House, but it’ll probably take us 6 months.

In the mean time, we are using the fire place, which requires wood.  Remember all those pallets I carefully dismembered over the summer?  We are now eye-balling them for fire wood, and last night pilfered a few more from around a dumpster.  Oh sure, we could buy a cord of wood, but where’s the fun in that?  I am taking it as a personal challenge to scavenge as much free wood as I can between discarded pallets and Craigslist ads and  I’m feeling full of pioneer spirit as a result.

I am gearing up to do some sewing.  It requires fortification, because I am not the most adept seamstress, but the projects I have up my sleeve are good ones, so when I stop staring at my sewing machine and actually pull it out, I’ll be snapping photos all the way.  But until I do, I’m going to spend a wee bit more time under this rock.

 

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 4,600 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 4 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year’s Eve, ya’ll.  I am not making any New Year’s Resolutions this year, although a childhood friend of mine on Facebook makes a very strong case for one in particular.  This morning she wrote:

Now I know in the past I’ve not taken New Years resolutions very seriously but that all changes this year. I mean it, this year I’m getting serious with my resolution. And my resolution is to bring sexy back. No I mean it you guys, I’m bringing sexy back. And maybe big hair too.

I’m really jealous.  That’s brilliant!  I wish I had written that!  Maybe I could just sign on for it under her inspired guidance.  (Thanks Amy, your posts always make me smile.)

So, there we have it, no resolutions this year.  I’m not good at keeping them. Sometimes I panic on New Year’s Eve and around 11 pm think, “This just isn’t right.  I can’t just solider on into a new year with no plan.  I must set some goals.”  Then I scribble down some stuff in a notebook that I never really intend to follow through on, misplace the notebook and find it six months later only to find what I wrote and think, “Hmmm, didn’t do any of that.”  But it makes me feel better that I’ve got a plan, and I sleep easier.

I don’t do any celebrating on new Year’s Eve. I never got into the habit of it, because a.) I don’t like parties (parties are composed of people and noise, and that makes me tired and cranky) and b.) it was my parent’s anniversary.  I have long ago forgiven them for getting married on New Year’s Eve, although I held a grudge in my teens, which seems appropriate, since my parents were teenagers when they got married.  My mom still observes her anniversary even though my dad’s been gone for many years now.  She usually takes herself out for lunch, maybe having some fried fish from Red X.

Instead of going to New Year’s Eve parties, my family would get together either at my parents house or four houses down the street at the home of one of my three older sisters.  There was food and games, usually a rip-roaring game of Spades with insults hurtling around the table about sandbagging and dinks.  It was a struggle for most of the group to even stay awake until midnight, and there was a lot of, “Wake up!  The ball is dropping!” at 10 seconds til midnight.  For me, New Year’s Eve is Chex mix and Dick Clark and rowdy family playing silly games and falling asleep before midnight.  That gets really difficult to participate in when I’m 1800 miles away, Chex mix just isn’t the same now that you can buy it pre-mixed, and now that Ryan Seacrest hosts”Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve” I can’t stand to watch it because Seacrest gives me hives from sheer irritation.  Most of my New Year’s Eves in the past decade have been spent quietly and usually as the only person in the house who is awake, because Fakefish will inevitably fall asleep in his chair while trying to keep me company to ring in the new year  (For auld acquaintance bezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz I’m awake!  I’m awake!  Never brought tozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)  He tries.

So instead of writing resolutions I won’t keep and prodding Fakefish to wake up so I can get my New Year’s kiss, I think this New Year’s Eve I will welcome in the new year by sending well-wishes to friends and family and heck, even complete strangers, because we could all use a little more goodness and kindness and love in our lives.  If you feel all warm and fuzzy after watching that ball drop in Times Square, that’s not the champagne speaking, that’s a Happy Thought from me to you for Good Things to Come.  Now, pass the Chex Mix.

 

Squirrel!

SQUIRREL!

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!  We’ve got SQUIRRELS.  Well, they appear to be visiting our back yard at any rate.  And I’m rather chuffed about it.  They aren’t very common where I live, not the tree variety anyway, and I had noticed one squirrel this past summer walking the power lines from a few blocks over.  But this morning I was treated to a full on Cirque du Squirrel as a trio of them scrambled along power lines and leaped into trees.  Then as they scurried along the fence line I noticed one of them was in possession of what appeared to be a squishy tomato previously residing in my compost bin.

Squirrels were one of the many things I missed about Missouri when I moved to California.  I know bird lovers consider them a nuisance, they’re described as rats with tails, and they can totally wreak havoc in an attic if left unchecked.  Still, I missed them. They are cheeky little buggers, I agree. The house I grew up in had many trees, and many, many squirrels which I liked.  But squirrels would drive my dad to fits of madness with spit frothing at the corner of his mouth. The squirrels would swipe apples from Daddy’s tree, take one bite out of them, and then leave the apple sitting on the split rail fence.  Sometimes they would steal tomatoes from the garden when it got really hot and dry so they could get a drink of the juice. He bought a bb gun to deal with it. I don’t know if he every actually shot one, nor do I want to know, so the members of my childhood household were split in opinion when it came to squirrels.

After seeing the squirrels in the back yard, I immediately started looking up squirrel feeders and appropriate feed for them.  I think I’m going to make a couple and work on some squirrel tricks like these: