As for me, I haven’t made any valentines yet this year, and certainly nothing to top last year’s paper heart. I do feel I deserve credit, though, for overseeing and assisting Phoebe with the production of over 40 valentines. (Over twice as many as last year.) This year we started with some pre-made blank cards, and had a bit of assistance from from stamps and stickers (thanks to the resourcefulness of a neighbor/friend), which greatly sped up the process. (Especially after Phoebe spent several hours on the first 10 or so cards, and realized that she had to make at least a couple dozen more. She already complains about not having enough hours in the day.) I feel especially pleased with myself that I was able to rein in my control freak tendencies, and let Phoebe do her thing with minimal interference, such that she had (mostly) complete control over the art direction.
And if you don’t mind stale candy hearts, please revisit my Valentine’s Day treats from previous years: (Click the images to see the posts.)
On my trip to Hong Kong last August, the morning of the start of the conference, a group of attendees and I arrived at the conference venue in search of breakfast. Winding up in a little cafe in the sprawling convention center, we purchased a variety of baked goods and hot beverages. A colleague of mine also bought a container of mixed fruit slices. Mingled among the identifiable slices of melon and pineapple were a couple of rectangular white slabs, speckled throughout with little black dots. My colleague was kind enough to share her fruit, doling out slivers of the mysterious thing to the half dozen of us sharing the table. I had a little nibble, and found it to be pleasant: quite soft, a bit like a cross between a cantelope and a watermelon in texture, and with a bit of crunch from the seeds. Perhaps it was the presence seeds, but the taste reminded me a bit of kiwi, but much milder. Someone at the table was able to suggest that the fruit was a dragonfruit. I had no idea what such a thing was, or would look like outside of a container of mixed fruit slices. (But I did have a strong suspicion that it didn’t grow in rectangular slabs.)
A couple of days later found me on a fairly cringeworthy bus tour, which in retrospect did get me some good photos and a few stories to tell. It also landed me in front of a fruit stall, where (among other fruit options) there was a big stack of brightly colored dragonfruits (identified to me by my tour companion). I bought one.
While I intended to eat it, I admired it primarily for its looks. Here are a couple of photos of it as it posed while waiting for the cringeworthy bus. (Actually the tour bus wasn’t the problem. The tour guide was.)
It wasn’t until a couple more days had passed that I had a chance to try it. Here it is, back in my hotel room, sitting on a hotel towel. In spite of its resemblance to dragon scales, I found that the skin to be surprisingly easy to cut with the dull standard plastic knife I had.
It sliced up easily, revealing the the flesh inside with its speckling of black seeds. (I hadn’t been sure yet whether I’d gotten the same kind, as there is also a variety with red flesh inside, and a similar-looking outside.)
I seem to recall that the skin slipped off the fruit easily, but I have no supporting photographic evidence. I didn’t eat the skin, in any case. (I don’t actually know whether one can or should, but I have the impression that people don’t.)
(Sadly, this particular dragonfruit was more photogenic than it was tasty. It didn’t have even the hint of the kiwi-like tartness of the earlier fruit I’d sampled. In fact, it didn’t have much flavor at all.)
Happy Chinese New Year! I have plans to bring on the dragons this week in celebration of the Year of the Dragon. For tonight, though, I will leave you with this message from Phoebe:
(John and I found this note in the living room a couple of weeks ago. Neither of us knew anything about it. For those of you in California, I hope this warning isn’t reaching you too late.)
Both kids chose to wear their Santa-esque finery today, making this the third year wearing these outfits. (Did you ever see my Jingle Bells movie of the kiddos from 2 years ago? We know how to do festive at our house.)
Clearly, I have a thing for the Santa-style garments. I always loved wearing a Santa hat on Christmas morning, if one was available. (With all our moves, we didn’t always have the same things each Christmas.) I remember really wanting to get myself a red velvet dress with white furry trim, but that has yet to happen. Instead, I live vicariously through my children.
Christmas Day, 2011: Theo, age 3 years 4 months and Phoebe, age 5 years 10 months.
Christmas Day, 2010: Theo, age 2 years 4 months, and Phoebe, 4 years 10 months
Christmas Day, 2009: Phoebe, 3 years 10 months and Theo, 1 year 4 months.
Christmas Day, 2008: Phoebe, age 2 years, 10 months.
Christmas Day, 2008: Theo, age 4 months.
Christmas Eve, 2008: Phoebe, age 2 years, 10 months.
Christmas Eve Eve Eve or so, 2007: Phoebe, age 1 year, 10 months.
Christmas Day, 2006: Phoebe, age 10 months. No Santa hat, but a festive bow.
It seems highly unlikely that the current outfits will fit another year. Who knows what the kids will want to wear next Christmas. (A few weeks ago, Theo proclaimed that he wanted to be Einstein for Christmas this year, but we didn’t come through with the costume for him. He’d be pretty cute in a wild wig and bushy white mustache, though…)
Guitars reflected in a silver ball at the music store.
A few nights ago, John had a company party to go to, so the kids and I started in on the evening routine without him. Inspired by having sampled some delicious latkes at Phoebe’s class holiday party on Monday (which included both Christmas and Hanukkah treats and activities), and having just bought a big bag of potatoes, I decided I would try my hand at making latkes. (Wow, that was a really long sentence.) Anyhow, I made latkes, in honor of Hanukkah. I consulted the great oracle of Google, and got down to business peeling and grating. I have to say, I made some pretty tasty latkes.
The whole process also took probably longer than I’d intended, and it was after 6 by the time the kids and I sat down to eat our meal of latkes, fried eggs, latkes, steamed broccoli, and more latkes. (Phoebe declared the meal so delicious that she high-fived me.) I may have eaten far, far too many latkes. (From what I understand, that is also a Hanukkah tradition.)
After dinner, it was time for Phoebe and I to practice the violin. John usually takes Theo upstairs to start his shower while Phoebe and I practice downstairs. Since John wasn’t home yet, I thought Theo could keep us company in the parlor, which is where we always practice. (Really, some people my call it the living room. But when we moved into this house, we declared the “family room” to be our “living room,” and the official “living room” became the parlor. I like the word parlor. I mean, who would remember something like “‘step into my living room,’ said the spider to the fly.” Not that this is how the actual quote from the poem went. It’s just what people remember. I mean, with “parlor,” in place of “living room.” I suppose “den” might have also worked, for the spider, at least. But not for our house. We have a parlor.) The parlor is also where we have our Christmas tree. (I mention this, because this will be relevant shortly.) (Notice my subtle attempt at foreshadowing.)
When Phoebe and I practice her violin exercises together, we both sit on the floor. However, I had just bought myself a book of Christmas songs for the violin, and since Phoebe putters around a lot as she sets up her violin, I sat in a chair so I could set the book in my music stand, and played a bit. Theo was hanging an ornament he had made at daycare on the tree. Phoebe sat on the floor, opened up her violin case, and then suddenly wandered off to look at her gingerbread house. At that moment, Theo stepped back to look at his ornament on tree…and stepped directly onto Phoebe’s violin.
I’m not sure what noise escaped from me as I looked up and saw his foot land on the neck of Phoebe’s little quarter-sized violin (I think it was some sort of squeak), but I remember the exceedingly alarmed look on Theo’s face. I jumped up, and hurriedly set down my own violin. The trouble is, you can’t really hurriedly set down a violin. I basically dropped it. It made a loud crack and thwong noise as a couple of the pegs hit the coffee table and came unwound. I may have made additional noises.
Both children wailed.
In the end, I was able to assess that both violins were pretty much okay, if seriously out of tune. Happily, Theo managed to step on one of the less fragile parts of the instrument, and his weight was probably somewhat taken by the case, since the violin was still in it. He still felt awful. And so did Phoebe, for having left her violin open and on the floor. And so did I, for not having been paying enough attention to the actions of my small children around rather fragile instruments. And for having dropped my violin. Phoebe, though, was much comforted by the fact that we had, all three, made mistakes, which she enumerated repeatedly.
Did I mention I made latkes? They were delicious.
—
In case you didn’t manage to check out of all Neil’s fantastic Christmahanukwanzaakah Concert, which had musical contributions from a variety of different holiday cultural traditions, I wanted to share with you this trio of lovely ukelele productions. These talented women inspired me so much that I looked longingly at the ukeleles at the music store when I went to my violin lesson. (Not that I expect that ukeleles are much sturdier than violins.)
Then there’s Elly of Buggin’ Word, Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree. (Please check out the adorable “shuke” (shirt uke) her son is wearing)
And lest the southern hemisphere feel left out, here’s Juli Ryan with her charming rendition of a New Zealand folk song: “Haere Mai Everything is Ka Pai”
It’s time for The Sixth Annual Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert, and I managed to get my act together this year. (As promised.) I wrote lyrics. I sang. A duet. I even made a short movie. If you want to hear me singing, and want to see more proof of my insanity, go check out the concert at Neil’s place. (I’m all the way at the bottom, probably because of the lateness of my submission. I said I got my act together, not that I did so in a timely way…) Make sure you check out some of the other fantastic submissions of songs and photos, too. It’s a whole load of multi-holiday festiveness.
This cold really blows
(Yeah baby it’s cold inside) I can’t feel my toes
(Yeah baby it’s cold inside) This whole house has been
(Been keeping the fuel use down) As cold as snow
(I know the temp’s been kept real low) My fingers will start to fall off
(Well why did take your gloves off?) My thumbs will surely drop on the floor
(I’ll try to stop the draft from the door) I’m going for the thermostat now
(No, baby just put on your hat now) But maybe just a half degree more
(Are those all the layers you wore?) My earlobes will freeze
(Look at this scarf I wear) My limbs will all seize
(Try some long underwear) I wish I knew how
(You look like a snowman now) To warm my feet
(Put on more socks, don’t touch the heat) I’m sure that I’ll freeze my ass off
(We’re lucky it’s not the gas off) This cold is going to break my will
(At least we’ll have a lower fuel bill) This cold really blows
(oh baby don’t give in) Baby it’s cold inside Baby it’s cold inside Baby it’s cold inside
¹ “All-new” is not entirely accurate. I wrote this last December, but not in time for Neil’s concert. Last winter, as you may or may not know, was a particularly long, cold and icy one in New England. Seeing as I’ve been working at reducing my personal fossil fuel dependency, I have lobbied for setting the thermostat lower in the winter in our house. While our house isn’t really old, it isn’t super new either. What it is is super drafty. The result is that it can get downright chilly at times. I have many memories of the cool indoors from growing up; wearing layers of sweaters and warm socks is a winter tradition. I bundled up quite a lot last winter. But there aren’t enough socks and sweaters in the world to make me tolerate the wintertime temperatures in our downstairs bathroom:
Has the holly jolly omnipresence of Christmas music been threatening your sanity? Before you let Rudolf drive your sleigh over the edge, just adjust your dials. I’ve put together a playlist of holiday song antidotes to help get the relentless ring of jingle bells out of your ears. ¹
All I want for Christmas Is You: What do I get? The Buzzcocks
The Happy Elf: Working for the Man, P. J. Harvey
Santa Claus Is Coming To Town: Man That You Fear, Marilyn Manson
Here Comes Santa Claus: Psycho Killer, Talking Heads
Frosty The Snowman: Damn it Feels Good to Be a Gangsta, Geto Boys
The Little Drummer Boy: Don’t Bang the Drum, The Waterboys
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus: Lapdance, N*E*R*D (No one Ever Really Dies)
White Christmas: Black Celebration, Depeche Mode
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!Only Happy When It Rains, Garbage
A Child This Day Is Born: Birth, School, Work, Death, The Godfathers
Holly Jolly Christmas: Helter Skelter, The Beatles
Oh Holy Night : Head Like a Hole, Nine Inch Nails
Sleigh Ride: Garbage Truck, Sex Bob-omb
Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire: Burning Down the House, Talking Heads
Do You Hear What I Hear?Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana
All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth: Bloodletting, Concrete Blonde
Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree: The Downward Spiral, Nine Inch Nails
Christmas Shoes:These Boots Were Made For Walkin’, Nancy Sinatra
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas: Atrocity Exhibition, Joy Division
Home For The Holidays: Institutionalized, Suicidal Tendencies
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now, The Smiths
Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer: Don’t Push Me, 50 Cent
The Chipmunk Song: That’s When I Reach for My Revolver, Moby
How about you? Any songs in particular spurring you to spike your eggnog or jam candy canes into your ears? And what songs might you use to counteract?
¹ I did a bit of Christmas shopping yesterday, mostly looking for things like pajamas for the kids. I can’t even count how many times I heard Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You.” All I wanted for Christmas shopping was a break from the treacly music. It was such a relief to get back to my car and put on my iPod. When Joy Division came up on shuffle, I knew I’d found an antidote to the ravages of holiday cheer.²
² For the record, I don’t actually hate holiday music. Some of it I actually like. I just can hear too much of it, especially when the songs are so saccharine that they make me throw up a little.³
The town next to ours, which is where Phoebe takes her karate classes, has a parade each year a few weeks before Christmas to mark the lighting of the trees on the town green. The parade includes marching bands and groups from local businesses and organizations. I wouldn’t describe most of what is in the parade as being “floats,” but there are a number of trucks pulling decorated trailers. In fact, Phoebe’s karate school participates each year, and invites all students to come in their uniforms and ride a trailer in the parade. This was the second year that Phoebe got to be in the parade. (This is her third year in karate, but that first winter, when she was not yet 4, our timing didn’t work out to meet up with the group. Plus it was a miserably cold, wet, sleety night.)
While John and Phoebe went early to meet up with the karate school to ride the trailer, Theo and I went a bit later to watch the parade. Last year, I tried so hard to get a picture of Phoebe in the parade, and failed miserably. This year, I decided I’d just try to wave to her. It was a much happier experience.
It was a chilly evening (they wait until it starts getting dark to start the parade, as it ends with the tree-lighting), but Theo and I enjoyed ourselves. We stopped in at a bank to hear a barbershop quartet (lots of the downtown business host events), and then wandered up and down the sidewalks to keep warm until the parade started. The highlight for Theo was almost certainly seeing the firetrucks. In fact, he may have had the impression that the event was primarily a firetruck parade. Firetrucks not just from the town, but from many neighboring towns, participated. All were decked out in some sort of holiday decorations (I think there may be a contest), and all had lights and sirens blaring. It was quite loud. Theo was enthralled.
I’m sure that at some point in my life, I might have mocked this sort of event, but I admit I find it a charming holiday tradition. It was all so very earnest. And while pretty much all of the participation by local businesses was no doubt done for PR and advertising reasons, the event didn’t feel very commercial. It wasn’t about stuff. It was about community, and festiveness. And really, really loud sirens.
Marching band.
A specimen of the decorated vehicles on parade.
A few firetrucks in the long, long line.
The last firetruck brought Santa. It’s his job to turn on the trees.
It’s been some time since I’ve served up a ThThTh post, but the recent wave of tuber-relatedposts got my mind churning up a big heapin’ mess o’ potato-themed things. Plus it’s Thanksgiving Day here in the US, and potatoes are part of the feast tradition.¹
One potato, two potato, three potato, four
Five potato, six potato, seven potato, more
Mr. Potato Head: a classic plastic toy from Hasbro, shaped like a potato with re-arrangeable features and appendages. Was featured as an animated character voiced by in the Toy Story movie franchise.³
Viva la Papa!Long live the potato! I don’t know how true it is, but I remember that there was allegedly some confusion about the Spanish phrase meaning “the Pope,” (El Papa) and possibly some misprinted merchandise.
Green potatoes: are apparently somewhat toxic, according to Snopes. (Snopes was not able to help me about the la papa, el papa question, and had this to offer on the topic of potatoes.)
The Potato Famine: another name for the Great Famine, which occurred in Ireland between 1845 and 1852 when potato crops failed due to the potato blight.
Although blight ravaged potato crops throughout Europeduring the 1840s, the impact and human cost in Ireland – where one-third of the population was entirely dependent on the potato for food – was exacerbated by a host of political, social and economic factors which remain the subject of historical debate.
Sinead can tell you more about it.
Famine, a song by Sinead O’Connor
OK, I want to talk about Ireland
Specifically I want to talk about the “famine”
About the fact that there never really was one
There was no “famine”
See Irish people were only ALLOWED to eat potatoes
All of the other food
Meat fish vegetables
Were shipped out of the country under armed guard
To England while the Irish people starved
drop like a hot potato:an idiom meaning “suddenly stop associating with” whoever or whatever is likened to the hot potato. Example: She acted like she wanted to be my friend, but when she learned that I was only small potatoes , she dropped me like a hot potato.
Hot Potatoes: a song by The Kinks from 1972 [listen on YouTube]
mashed potatoes: what might happen to hot potatoes that have been dropped.
mashed potato: a dance step that was popular in the early 60s
small potatoes: an idiom meaning “insignificant.” (Small potatoes are really tasty for roasting, though.)
new potatoes: small young potatoes (that are not tater tots)
Potato-potahto: From the song “Let’s call the whole thing off” While the tomato/tomahto variation happens, it would seem that the potato alternation probably doesn’t exist outside of the song.
Potatoe: a mispelling of potato which achieved great fame when former Vice President Dan Quayle incorrectly corrected a kid at a spelling bee to add the e at the end.
couch potato: a term for someone who sits around a lot, especially on a couch. (This totally does not apply to me, as right now, I am sitting on a chair. Not a couch. The dent in the couch cushion in no way suggests that I spend too much time sitting there. Nope.)
Potato: a song. (Thank you Sally for bringing this potato to the table!)
Okay, it turns out I dug up too many potatoes. I decided to save away some of the extra potatoes. I’ll reheat them for you tomorrow…
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¹They also go well with the ThThTh posts served up on Thanksgivings past: turkeys, bread, and utensils.²
² It’s ThThThThanksgiving.
³ I feel compelled to mention that this potato is being reused. Mr. Potato Head has already appeared in one of my ThThTh lists. Over 4 years ago.
⁴ Assuming that “children” is a term meaning “small cylinders made of shredded bits of the parents, who happen to be potatoes, which have been deep fried.”
collecting tokens 