Images of Yesterday's Dinner and Random NYE Memories

I sat down at this desk about half an hour ago with the idea of writing about New Year's Eves I could recall. NYE is one of those overhyped, underdelivering holidays. How many times have you had a truly remarkable one? Considering we all top out at fewer than 100, and probably missed most of the first ten, we should to try to make them more memorable, shouldn't we?

I vaguely remember staying up late to walk out on the tiny front porch in the thick fog in Modesto when I was between 10 and 15. I banged a pot with a wooden spoon and smiled when I heard someone down the street doing the same.

We've all watched Dick Clark (finally!) get older year after year until at last he's as old as he really is.

I remember a bleak one in high school when this sort of runt-of-the-litter cheerleader (whose name I have deleted since this post was first written) convinced me to go to a "real" party with her. I must have been 16 or 17. She tried really, really hard to be a cheerleader, but she just wasn't cut out for it. She was, let's say, a bit on the trashy side, and not in a good way. Desperation oozed from her pores. Her claims to fame were her "Bacon Frying in a Pan" imitation, during which she writhed on the floor, and "forgetting" to wear underwear to a game once. Or twice. Imagine Britney Spears without her looks. (I just tried googling her: she is either the receptionist for a very shady moving company, or a big Obama supporter. Whoops, no, she's not black.) She wasn't a bad person, just misguided. She was trying to find her tribe, just like the rest of us. But she asked me, and I wanted to feel grown up, so I agreed to go. I think she wanted to set me up with someone. Yikes.

The party was in a house on the wrong side of the freeway, out by the mall, where the streets have not-very-nice-neighborhood names, like Buell and Farkman and Loser Lane. Or something like that. It was shabby and the guests were smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I recall muscle cars were parked on the grass out front, but that's probably being generous. They were probably crummier cars than that. Or up on blocks in the greasy driveway.

Soon after arriving, Roni disappeared into the back bedroom, where people were doing some substance I never could figure out. This was before "crack" was something people did, so I think they were doing "crank". I still don't know exactly what that is. (Hey, Mom and Dad, if you are reading this, yes, you let me go to a party where drugs were being used and no parents were present.) Ok, this is getting depressing. What happened was I sat around mostly by myself mostly being bored, waiting for midnight and drinking a very watery tasting beer, even by my standards at the time. The sound on the television was off, and the stereo was really loud, and as the ball dropped (WHY, by the way, can't we Left-Coasters have our own celebration? Isn't it a little lame to watch a TAPE of midnight in New York every year?) on the fuzzy screen, a red LED clock radio on top of the TV counted down the seconds. And then it was midnight, and it was over and I could go home. And that is the beginning of my general disappointment with the holiday.

Later, when I still lived at home, one of my very favorite NYEs was one I spent absolutely alone. I took a bath, gave my feet a good hot scrub in the sink, my face a masque, and my hair a hot oil treatment, drank some tea, and went to bed early. When I woke up, I felt great and I think I looked pretty fresh, too. I still remember that one.

Then there was the one I spent with my former swim team friends in San Francisco. That's another one that it's better my parents don't know about, because I spent some of it in a service elevator in the St. Francis hotel, wrapped up in a 12-ft mauve table skirt which was borrowed, along with some commemorative glassware, from a banquet room, some of it in the Oakland BART station (still with tableskirt-- I have a picture in my mind of it trailing behind me as I rode the escalator down) and a large part of it on the doormat outside my friends' dorm room in Hayward, as no one could hear me knocking on the door when I got back. That's pretty too, eh? The fun parts were fun: singing TV theme songs with a whole carload of drunken BART passengers, watching the streets fill with people when the clock struck midnight, kissing people. But a lot of it was not fun, and I'm glad I was young enough that it is now a very, very long time ago.

Midnight of the turn of the millennium was special. We spent it with our dear friends Tyla and Vincent, and their friends Jon and Drianne, before they all had kids, back at the cozy old Rose Lane house. Food is very important to me on momentous occasions, and Vincent did not disappoint. We had a nine-course dinner, if I recall correctly, complete with really fantastic wines, and a la French Laundry, wherein the courses are small and by the time you are done, you feel smiley and full and fine, but not like you're looking for the Alka Seltzer or surreptitiously unbuttoning your top button. It was really fantastic. I believe Tyla even made up little menus for the occasion.

Ok, it's time to go and have a little evening celebration with my husband. Tonight, we had a simple dinner of some homemade and very delicious beef stew (Mike made it) and brown bread with walnuts. We may watch a movie, or just listen to music, or I might take a hot shower, give myself a new coat of nail polish and read about Shakespeare. Somewhere along the line, we'll open up the bottle of rose champagne that I brought home, and toast each other. And we'll sleep really well. Tomorrow, we're going to drive out to the coast and then have dinner with friends again.

Happy New Year to you, my dear friends who read this. Whatever kind of year you've had, may you have more of the good and less of the bad, in the coming one.

Ur Bubbles, I Has Em

more funny pictures
(You're supposed to be able to read that this says "invisible champagne" by the way.)

Don't Know Why

I don't know why I find this video of elephants marching down New York's 34th street so moving, but I do. I've watched it 3 or 4 times now, and it still brings tears to my eyes. Can you imagine how magical it would be to see real live elephants marching down the street in the middle of the night, trunk to tail? In New York? (During this strange and sappy time of my life, when I love so many things, I really love elephants. Oh yeah, and those beautiful black horses toward the end with the arched necks. And monkeys. And cats. Fish, too. And Grandpas with toddlers. And all my little girlie friends.)

Apparently when the Ringling Brothers circus come to New York this summer, the closest the trains can get is Queens, so the elephants and the horses make the rest of the trip on foot, through the Manhattan tunnel and down 34th street. Here's another view, and another.

I heard the story as one of the top stories of 2007 on NPR. During the report, you could hear the sounds of the crowd in the background, and there was a lot of happy, supportive shouting. One guy just kept yelling, "Elephants! Yeah! Elephants! Wooooooo!" The reporter asked the guy why he kept yelling, to which the guy responded something like, "It's ELEPHANTS! Ain't nobody don't like ELEPHANTS, sir."

*I guess they do this every year, and for whatever reason, PETA protests it. I respect the thought behind PETA, but I thought it was pretty lame of them to follow the parade along the sidewalk with signs and say things to people like, "Don't pretend you care about the animals, ma'am." and "Shame on you." As if thinking elephants are cool is something to be ashamed of. I guess they see this as a cruel and unnecessary publicity stunt, but it's a cheap stunt for them as well. Where are they when the everyday animals are truly abused. Where are they for the dogs and the cats and the laboratory rats? Not walking down 34th Street.

I bet the elephants actually like it. How many times do they get to go for a nice walk and check out the scenery? Next time I see a PETA member, they'd better be wearing hemp shoes, that's all I can say.

Christmas: So Much Dysfunction, So Little Time

Ahhh...the holidays. Gotta love 'em. At least they'll be over soon.

Take a break from whatever's making you want to crawl into a very large Christmas stocking-- or a very large martini-- and take a look at some photos I took yesterday afternoon. I do love California weather, though I miss the snow and smell of pines at Grandma and Grandpa's this time of year.

A Holiday Classic

Don't forget to stop by Cavalcade of Bad Nativities this year for a stocking-full of blessed kitsch!

If you missed last year's entries, go here.

Now that there's almost no time left to shop, if you want to see Mark Morford's gift idea list and look for a little something for yourself, go here. By the way, Mark lost a little of his uber-hip cred recently when he waited in line at 6 am at a Best Buy to buy a Wii. Yes, it was ostensibly for his time-deprived, politically correct and media-innocent far-away sister, but those are just excuses.

Stocking Stuffers

This morning I made corn pancakes, Neuske's ham and eggs for breakfast. Accidentally used fine whole wheat flour. I subtracted about a teaspoon of sugar and added a few tablespoons of unbleached bread flour to adjust the thickness, and they turned out great. A very tasty breakfast.

Here are some cellphone photos of holiday sights, including a real Santa waving from inside of a lighted sleigh at the funeral home on Soscol. He stands out there in the cold most evenings, just waving and smiling.

Christmas Reality

This is a perfect example of what life is like:

A perfect holiday dessert, executed with style, flair and kitschy perfection. (In three flavors, no less, AND beautifully photographed.) I love Tartelette and also Orangette, because these young, beautiful and enviably dainty patissières make it look easy. I imagine them flitting about their flour and glitter dusted world in flirty hostess aprons, fingertips trailing sparkling fairy dust.

In real-life, made by a regular person, this is what can happen. Poor, poor Alison! As you know if you've been reading this, I am familiar with sponge-cake failure. Along with sponge-cake failure comes the feeling that you're not quite the chef or baker you thought you were, and maybe not woman enough for the job. Martha Stewart would shun you. Especially heartbreaking during the holidays. It's hard to get back at the whisk after that. But the holidays are all about making it work. "Remember the time we spent all day and night baking that buche de noel and it fell apart, and we had to get up early and drive to a bakery and buy one and pull the decorations off in the car on the way to school, and re-frost it so it would look like we made it?" Like that. At least in my mind, that's how it would work. But we don't know what happened at the end of Ali's story. I liked the suggestion about piling up Ho-ho's and making them look like tiny yule logs, France be damned.

I have made one, in fact, at least two, of these dreaded buches de noel. My recipe, which was given to me by my English teacher (and the mother of a future Chief Justice) in the 8th grade, is much, much more low-tech. I think it includes instant pudding and possibly Cool-Whip. Of course, that doesn't help Alison, but I will locate it and post for you, and if I can find the picture of the one I made when I was 15 or 16, I will do that as well. For now, just send condolences to Alison at Cleaner Plate Club.

Something Beautiful

Did you ever play with marbles as a child? For a while, after jacks, these were all the rage at school, but (surprise) I never got into the game of marbles. It disturbed me that someone else could seize my precious beauties without warning, so after I lost my first marble (literally speaking), I stopped playing. No one takes your jacks if they win. I just loved learning the names of the different types, and holding each one up to the light. It is generally my policy to use only my own photos, and when I use someone else's, I include their name and a link to the source site. I don't know the photographer for this one, but it comes from Garnet Hill's online catalog, from which I recently purchased some lovely winter flannel sheets. I prefer the weight of the German flannels from The Company Store, but these are very nice. They also have lots of beautiful clothes (If anyone still wonders what I want for Christmas, wait until the bell-sleeve cashmere sweaters go back on sale. Or the cashmere scarves. Or the Born boots.)

I was just interrupted by YET ANOTHER telephone solicitor. Could someone please get the word out to these people that cold-calling people is NOT EFFECTIVE? This is the second time in as many weeks that the caller, when politely asked to remove us from their calling list, insisted on continuing their monologue. This one actually told me that I was "not listening" to her! How about I call you in the middle of the day, talk about what I want to talk about (which is something you don't want) and insist on finishing my conversation while you wait for me to finish? It is better for both of us if I cut this short and you remove me from your list so that you don't waste time calling here again.

Last week, angered by my co-worker's dismissal, a telephone solicitor actually called back, got me, and asked to talk to her supervisor! This was an independent person, calling us to sell us her services as a debt collector! At least we know she's persistent, even if she's not very polite. People have told me that they say, "wait just a minute" when this happens to them, then set the phone down and walk away. While that sounds very gratifying, as does telling them you'll put them on hold and then hanging up instead, I'm actually trying to be nice, and efficient, by asking to be removed from the calling list. I guess I have to learn a sweeter way of saying it that does the trick. Like what, though? I don't want to be an ass, I just want to make it stop.

Ok, back to what I was saying, I have always loved the cover photos on the Garnet Hill catalogues. I wish I could find out who the photographers are. And I was going to talk about marbles and jacks more, but my nostalgic mood is blown. Maybe another time.

Here, I googled some tips for you:
How to get rid of telemarketers 1, and 2.

Calling All Batter Blasters

I saw this product a few times in Sunshine Market and walked right by. Then I read the label, saw that it was organic, and thought, a) it's not that hard to make pancakes from scratch anyway and b) but this might be fun if you wanted to make a lot of pancakes. Since it would take Mike and I about ten years to eat as many pancakes as this can says it makes, I bought two cans for my friends with kids ranging in age from 6 to 1, on the condition that they chime in and tell me how the trial went. So here's the chance. Chime on in. I heard from Maggie that Molly LOVED them, but Mommy thought they were too sweet. Tyla, aka Mommy, promises to try them in the waffle iron as well. Convenient? Fun? Tasty? Acceptably nutritious for breakfast? Other comments?

Note to Self

Yesterday I picked my friend Maggie up from school at noon and she came over to make ornaments with me. We had a little lunch first. Maggie LOVES salad and LOVES mushrooms, she told me. We had a great time. We put googly eyes, glitter glue and sequins on our reindeer, Christmas trees and snowman.

We took the dog for a little walk while the glue was setting. Then we read three books: Skippyjon Jones Goes to the Doghouse, I Like Bugs, and Stand Tall Molly Lou Melon. Maggie had a snack of brown bread and jam (the remnants of which you can see in the picture above), then grabbed her blanky and started to look seriously nappish. And then it was time to go home. A fine time was had by all. Toward the end, I think Maggie was being a serious trouper, because I heard from her mom that she didn't feel well the rest of the day. I think she started feeling icky about halfway through and was just too excited to want to say anything.

Below are some photos of our ornaments. Sorry some are a little blurry. I think the glitter confuses the camera.








This morning, when I checked the ornaments that I made after she left, I noticed that some of the decorations had separated themselves from the ornaments, and I realized too late that glitter glue is not the best adhesive for tinfoil. As each line or dot dries, it just pops right off. I am going to try to pin some of the pieces down with Elmer's, but I'm not sure that will work either. I sent an urgent message to Maggie's mother this morning to be on the lookout for possible materials failure. If it happens, I'll get some adhesive dots or jewels (which was what the instructions recommended in the first place) and we'll have an activity for another afternoon.

It's Not About the Stuff

In the past, I've used collages for my personal Christmas cards. These are made 100% old school, cutting bits and pieces out of magazines and pasting them together with glue or tape on a piece of art paper.

The full-sized collages, which have been as big as 18" x 24", and have included pieces of dollar bills and actual debt-busting, cut-up credit cards, were then scanned, very minimally re-touched in photoshop and laser-printed on cardstock. In honor of the season, here is a holiday collage retrospective. (Click on any image to see the full-sized version.)

It's Not About the Stuff
magazine collage
each print hand-decorated with gold and silver glitter-glue

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
magazine collage
fork portion made entirely from one black and white magazine photo page



Peace
moon collage made from circular objects from the Sunday newspaper
(the letter "O", a shrimp platter, etc.)
overlaid with crinkled onion skin tracing paper



Joy Is Not in Things, It Is in Us
magazine clippings, credit cards, dollar bills, glitter



Happy Birthday
magazine collage, tape

Biological Clock

magazine collage, tape

(This post is duplicated on my other blog RESOURCE DESIGN. )

'Tis the Season

Read this piece by Heather Armstrong. If you are someone, or you know someone, who is feeling down and keeping it a secret because you are afraid of what someone else will think, don't be afraid. Pick up a phone and begin to find help.

I know what it feels like to contemplate whether the world would be better off without me, and I never imagined then that it would all change and I would have this much fun and love and laughter down the road.

During the holidays, it's too easy to create artificial standards for ourselves about how things should be, and how we should be, and those "shoulds" can seem like impossible walls to climb. No matter where you are today, no matter how bad you feel, you can begin to change things.
It's going to be ok.

The Week in Pictures

Scraps

You can see Oprah's favorite things here.

You can see a gray kitty wearing a pink wig here.

You can see badly dressed celebrities here.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

Recently, as you may know, Oprah gave away her "Favorite Things" on television. The show, (which I watched because I was running on the treadmill at the gym, mind you, not because I would ever turn on the television before 5 pm at home) was as filled with screaming, crying and excess as the Saturday Night Live parody of it. I do like Oprah, in spite of all that. And I like some of her things, too. (Forget Obama-- Oprah for president.)

Then yesterday, I was reading Family Fun magazine at the orthodontist's office. In addition to all sorts of ideas for cute crafts, there were some touching columns about different things people have done to help make the holidays meaningful as well as plentiful. One that struck me as really beautiful was a story about a couple who had very little the first year they were married, so instead of over-extending their shoestring budget and buying each other new things, they wrapped things for themselves that they already had.

Now I know at first this sounds incredibly sad, which was my first thought. But what they did on Christmas morning was sit under the twinkling tree and reflect on how thankful they were for the gift of each other, and the things that meant a lot to them, like the first present or card he ever gave her, or a little token that reminded them of something special or something important in their lives.

The family still carries on the tradition. Each year, among the new gifts are a few meaningful things, such as a cherished toy that has been in storage, a guitar with a broken string that has been repaired, or a special blankie with a new name tag sewn in. Thinking about these old gifts again puts them in a thankful state of mind, which is often hard to achieve this time of year. It reminds them of the things that are truly special to them and to their family members, and to cherish those things and those people. One year, one of the parents had their two kids hide in big wrapped boxes as the other one came home.

A couple of things I thought of that are small but special to me:

Every time I see the giraffe's face (picture up top), I smile. It's not really a gift. The keychain was loaned to me with a house key on it. Last summer (seems like forever ago) my mother was in the hospital for almost a month in total, for a quadruple bypass. It wasn't until months later, when I knew my mom was safe and sound again, that I realized how stressful that time was, and how scared I was. My friends Ann and Enza let me stay at their house while I was helping out and visiting her at the hospital, giving me a vital oasis of calm and quiet to retreat to each night. Now they've moved, and I still have the keychain. And I'm still thankful for them and their generosity and support.

Speaking of keychains, I am never without the small black Swiss-Army knife keychain that my mother gave me years and years ago. I still have the tweezers, but the toothpick is long gone. (Who would use that in their teeth anyway? Gross.) It's totally worn and smooth, and the logo is completely gone. I use the screwdriver, the knife, the scissors and the nail file all the time. It's like a tiny emergency tool kit for just about anything. I feel capable when I have my little knife. Sort of like Mike feels when he has his Leatherman tool, I suppose, just on a smaller scale.

I have to take a break now, but as I go about my day and my week, I'm going to keep my eyes and my heart open to the good things in my life. I kinda feel like making some cookies, too. Maybe I'm getting a little Christmas spirit after all.