Oy Vey! I thought I ran out of stuff to write because I’m running chaotic with last minute preps.
But no. Last night I was up till past 1:00 AM watching retro Christmas Shows. Do you have the channel “Get TV”? It’s one of those retro channels that are showcasing old TV variety shows pre-Christmas.
Thank goodness I don’t have that much to do today. I can laze and watch retro Christmas shows on this station!
Ever the good “Helicopter Mom”, I was by my phone checking out her flight status every five minutes. She flew into LaGuardia last night. Today she is at her dad’s and this evening the kids will drive here for Christmas.
Anyway, her flight was delayed and she didn’t land until 11:30 PM. We exchanged “Good Night” messages but I was so mesmerized by Miss Peggy Lee who was a guest on the Danny Kaye Christmas Show that I stayed up. No beauty sleep for this princess. Anyway, I woke up to a message from Oona that she left in the wee hours of the morning:
“Mom. Just a heads up. Please do NOT call me early in the morning. It is now 2 AM and I am sitting on the plane on the runway waiting for a gate. Gotta love LGA”
Christmas greatness. This brings me back to the good old days!
So in a few moments, I will gather my ironing and head downstairs to watch Shirley Temple in “The Little Princess” while ironing the table linens for tomorrow’s meal.
I’ll have a blast smoothing all this stuff out!
…and I’ll also be sure to bring plenty of Kleenex downstairs while watching this movie. I always cry like a baby when I watch this. Besides, it’s the holidays and I can’t wipe with my sleeve!
Then I will watch “Christmas With The King Family”…and “Perry Como’s Christmas” with special guests “The Carpenters”. I’m in retro TV heaven today!
I LIVED for The King Family shows. Especially The King Cousins. They are just so “perfect”. And the talented Alvino Ray and his talking guitar. I’m in heaven. Heaven!!!
I will watch this again. Who knew Peggy Fleming was multi-talented? She not only skated but she sang–or did she just move her lips???
Quite honestly, Karen Carpenter had one of the most clear and beautiful voices of all time!
Oh. I will also take a bath, shave my legs, do my face and put “real” clothes on! Oh. And I’ll start to decorate the 2015 Buche de Noel.
Phase One of 2015 Buche de Noel. Buttercream filling inside and ganache frosting on the outside. It’s in the freezer firming up. Tomorrow I’ll decorate it.
Merry Christmas. Again! XOXOXOXO
For Christmas Eve—Silent Night with The King Family!!
One thing I need to set straight with you my friends. No matter how organized I think I may be—or appear to be; no matter how many lists or timelines I create; no matter how ahead I think I may be. I’m usually not. OK?
Seriously. I had Chateau Bonaparte decorated the day before Thanksgiving. We got the crooked tree the first weekend in December. I wrapped gifts as quickly as I could after purchasing them–well most of the gifts. Food shopping was completed yesterday with just a few odds and ends needed. And Bonaparte picked that stuff up today.
Crooked Tree the never straightened out
Bonaparte unplugged the lights because I tripped over the chord
Bow that Chippy almost ate.
Front stairs from foyer
Wreath that I embellished!
Come on in. The cyber kettle is whistling and I’ll fix you a cup of tea and proceed to tell you about my chaotic Christmas preparations of today.
So yesterday I got up really early. I had a busy day ahead of me. Manicure. Pedicure. Hair. Then it was home to start on the meringue mushrooms for the Buche de Noel.
Presently, my nails are the prettiest part of me. Like the color? It’s “Opi Red”
No sooner did I leave the hair salon when it started to rain. For once, I wasn’t thinking about my hair. I had a hat and umbrella so my tresses were protected. My thoughts ran more about the fact that meringue and damp, rainy weather do not make a good pair.
Anyway, when I got home I made the meringue mushrooms. In order to protect them from the elements, I put the stems and the tops in a plastic Ziploc bag and sucked the air out of them. I’m still hoping that they last until Christmas day when I decorate. If they don’t survive, I’ve got almond paste as a backup. I’ll make marzipan mushrooms instead—but I like meringue better.
My little meringue mushroom caps and stems in the oven. I’m soooo pissed upset that they will be ruined because of the fu lousy weather!
Next I decided to bake the rest of the cookie dough I froze. Corn cookies and Chocolate Chocolate cookies. Then I started to obsess. Would biscotti, sugar cookies, corn cookies and chocolate, chocolate cookies be enough? Would the candied nuts I made be enough? Should I make another brioche?
I decided to make truffles. Chocolate truffles and caramel truffles. Then I made a sauce for the frozen Nougatine that I had in the freezer. I opened the freezer door and a heavy brick of frozen dough fell on my foot. At that point I realized it was late so I went to bed. I figured I would just get up extra-early today and do more preparation.
I went a bit truffle crazy. Caramel truffles. Chocolate Truffles. Topped with Sea salt, chopped Butterfinger bars, chopped pistachios, cocoa and my favorite…..
Chocolate truffles covered with Momofuku Milk Crumb. Y.U.M.!
I woke up early and ambitiously reached for the remote control. Well, I did wake up early. And while enjoying a cup of coffee in bed, I started watching a movie. Then I realized I was being a lazy sloth. So I got dressed—and by dressed, I mean I went into the laundry basket, pulled out the same pair of plaid Old Navy pajama bottoms I’ve been wearing for a week and my stained Sriracha tee shirt that Chippy has happily been licking for the past few days. He’s licking all the baking ingredients that have fallen on it. It’s an economical way of doing laundry!
My first chore task was to bake the genoise cake for the Buche de Noel. Then I looked out the window. At the pouring rain. Mother Nature just shit all over me. The rain affects my baking.
Two genoise cakes rolled up to cool in towels. One fell apart. Thankfully, I made a backup!
I went back to the counter. Chippy was quite the sight as he tried to get the buttered parchment paper out of the sheet pan. It. Was. Going. To. Be. A. Long. Day. Not one, but two cakes were baked. Oh yes! I baked a backup. Just in case—and it was a good thing I did. One of the cakes fell apart because the moisture in the air was just too much. Luckily the other cake was fine.
The nerve of this child rascal! He tried, but failed! Well on THIS he failed..
Next task. Macaroni and cheese—or shall I say “Cheese and Macaroni”. I know. Mac & Cheese isn’t exactly refined for a nice Christmas dinner, but this dish became a tradition a couple of years ago because it was a safe bet for Bonaparte’s granddaughter. Um…it was suggested I made the crap from the box. No. If I’m serving this at Christmas dinner, the only thing coming from a box is the pasta.
Cheese and macaroni, seasoned with lots of pepper, I’ll top with more cheese and panko before baking on Christmas day!
Time for a well-needed rest. I sat in the sun room and cursed the rain while enjoying a cup of tea. Then I realized Oona was flying from Arkansas to LaGuardia later in the day. Now I was really in my gutter-mouth frame of mind. Mutha Nature is a bitch on wheels. I messaged Oona asking her to give me ALL of her flight information. She sent me a photo of her boarding pass. THIS meant she did not wish to speak to me because I make her stressed out when I’m in my present frame of mind. My daughter is one very smart young woman.
Some view. I would much rather see snow than rain!
I wish I drank during the day. I could use a cocktail right now—but it’s only 11:00AM!
I settled for Craisins instead. It’s the healthiest thing I’ve eaten in a week!
More preparation to be done! Potatoes are next. Bonaparte wants his crispy potatoes in duck fat. I know there are others at the table who will not want their potatoes in duck fat. I decided to make Duchess Potatoes: The Endless Meal. Duchess Potatoes. I prepared the potatoes and put them in the pastry bag. On Christmas Day, I’ll just pipe and cook. To me, this is a great way to do potatoes ahead. And, they will look very fancy!
The Duchess potatoes are in this pastry bag. I wrapped cling over the tip so it wouldn’t leak!
Time for another break. Chippy needs to go outside and “make”! Let me tell you, this little rascal will “make” a huge mountain from all the garbage he’s stolen today. Macaroni, paper towels, a stick of butter—unwrapped no less. As I write this, he had the nerve to try to eat the wrapping paper that Bonaparte left in the office. Chippy has a “thing” about paper.
That look either means I want more crumbs or I need to go out to “make”. NOW!
Time to get the buttercream out of the fridge to soften so I can apply the filling to the buche.
Buttercream filling is behind the ganache that’ll be the top frosting for the Buche!
Time for a TV break. Oh. It’s Nigella Lawson. She’s making a dressing for smoked salmon. Hey. I have salmon in the fridge. I also have the ingredients that Nigella is using. Back to the kitchen to make Nigella’s dressing for the smoked salmon that is in the fridge. I make the dressing then realize that I forgot about the pate I made the other day.
Now my brain is in high gear. Bonaparte invited one of his tennis buddies and his “lady” friend over for an aperitif tomorrow evening—which is nice. The kids are having dinner with their dad in New York and will be arriving here later tomorrow night. I can put out a nice spread of the pate, salmon and cheese. Oh…and the Alain Ducasse’s Gougeres I made in advance.
Gougeres. Little puffs of chou pastry with cheese. They are the perfect appetizer. I baked, froze. And when I need them, I just reheat!
More prep. Now for the Sprouts of Brussels. Everyone except Bonaparte loves Brussels Sprouts. I will be serving them with shallot, dried cranberries, and bacon. Topped with a reduction of balsamic vinegar. I cut the sprouts, blanched them, and put them in a bag. Also in the bag are smaller bags of the shallots, craisins and chopped bacon. Nice and easy.
I blanched these little cuties to bring out their color!
I cleaned the kitchen mess I made to the best of my ability. Bonaparte recleaned the kitchen after dinner.
Time to get the gifts from downstairs and embellish them. I decided to do this in the living room so I could get my lazy on and watch cooking shows. Ina “Barefoot Contessa” Garten, my delusional BFF, is having some fabulous holiday offerings. I love Ina so much. She is the Waspyish Jewish woman I don’t personally know. I love her recipes, her home, her voice and all her gay men friends. She’s just so great at all things Christmas!
Do you think Ina ever lazes around the house in the same Old Navy PJ bottoms for days on end? I wonder if she will ever invite ME over for Christmas dinner?
Ribbons, bows, strings, hot glue gun, scissors. Burns from the glue. It’s all good!
Like my festive wrapping? The things I do for Bonaparte!!!
Bonaparte calls me from upstairs. He wants to know where a few gifts he got for Jake, Roman and Oona are. I tell him I wrapped them. He tells me in his thick French accent. “Non. I deed not geev zem to ou”. “Whut deed ou wop?”
Now I think I have dementia. I run back downstairs to the closet where more “wopped geefs” are. I grab the wrapped gifts and run two flights of stairs back to Bonaparte. I do some explaining and Bonaparte realized that I “deed”, in fact “wop” the gifts.
Run back downstairs and finish the embellishments.
One of many embellished gifts! I finished up the rest today!
Holy Mother of God (I’m not cursing—it’s Christmas time) it is now 6:30 PM. I need to start dinner AND check on Oona’s flight status. Flight is delayed more than an hour—but I don’t dare call her. She will say I am stressing her out. ME????? Stress someone out????????
I get dinner ready. I also realize that I need to iron clothing.
But you know what? I’ll get up extra-early tomorrow to iron. And to take the brioche that I baked last week out of the freezer. And take the cinnamon buns I prepared out to rise.
This also freezes well. I’m so happy I made this in advance–the weather would kill this if I made it today!
And I’ll actually take a nice and relaxing bath and shave my legs and put make up on and dress in something other than my Old Navy PJ bottoms and a tee shirt and I’ll look pretty and I’ll have a nice relaxing Christmas Eve.
Isn’t it funny—I mean, the way that we think we are all prepared and all “I’ve got everything under control” when we kind of aren’t. But that’s the fun part. We all vow (at least I do) that next year will be different, but it never is—and that’s what so great about Christmas Chaos.
Bonaparte is looking forward to me being dressed in something other than this. Tomorrow I will make his wish come true!
Christmas chaos can be fun—stressful but fun stress. So do whatever it is you have to do tomorrow as the countdown to Christmas continues—but have a GREAT TIME doing it!
XOXOXOXO!!!
Today’s Christmas song is an oldie but greatie. Remember the group “Yes”? Remember Jon Anderson, the one-time lead singer of Yes? He had a Christmas Album “3 Ships” and it is incredibly hard to find. I had the vinyl and this song “The Holly and the Ivy” was my favorite. Enjoy!
This may also be my shortest post of the year too!
Why? You ask! Because after today, the days get longer!!! Yeah! It’s the best way of looking at the shortest day of the year.
Oh. And yes. The first day of summer IS my saddest day of the year because after that date, the days become shorter:
It’s a busy week, I’ll say–but here’s some retro summer reading. I don’t know how to reblog so I’m just adding links to two posts from this past summer. Enjoy!
And wonderful memories that brought joy and did last
So read on and be touched by my words and pic’s sights
And remember who comes in six more wondrous nights!
Just in case your memory needs to be refreshed–the ethereal glow from the crooked tree!
It’s so hard to think of anything to write about during this season of Christmas. I started writing about my filthy gutter mouth and my obsession with the “f” word, but I would much rather wait until after Santa arrives for that. After all, I don’t want coal in my stocking.
Oh. That was LAST year. I think I’ve been pretty good this year!
Instead I will focus on Christmas memories past. And mention of some traditions!
Here’s a goody from Christmas past. Me with the Jack-in-the-Box and my sister, Sissy. I’m guessing my passion for plaid goes back to around 1958. Dig the tinsel!
My parents were crazed with Christmas. They always went overboard every year. They would place the presents under the tree after we went to bed on Christmas Eve, then after midnight they would wake us up to tell us Santa arrived.
My father was obsessed. OBSESSED with tinsel. He was so obsessed that he practically ruined decorating the tree for everyone. The weird thing is, I GET it now. The tinsel had to be just so. It’s funny because I remember all of those ornaments–this pic is from the 1950’s!
I must have been a very good girl that year–1959. Santa brought me two dolls! Who am I looking at? I’ll tell you who–nobody. My mother used to make me look to the side when taking photos so I would not look as cross-eyed as I really AM!
Oh this is much better. My eye looks incredibly crossed! Do we now know why I love to iron clothes so much. It was ingrained at a young age. No wonder I love the color red!
The house was chaotic—especially after the family grew to five kids. Wrapping paper thrown everywhere, screaming with happiness. The kettle whistling just in time to have that last cup of tea before bed…it was fun….
The calm before the storm. I guess my parents ended up with a fake tree for a few years–I have to say–it’s pretty fake looking but the tinsel is FABULOUS!
We had the Florida years…
Christmas. Florida. 1981. Twins 13 years apart. Me with a pixie cut and my brother Pete-the best birthday gift I ever received!
My poor mother, rest her soul. She’s happily opening Christmas gifts. I love her big hair!
After I became a parent, we had the New York City years.
With my little elf, Jake. Two months old and his first Christmas!
One of the few years that Roman sat for a pic with Santa.
Macy’s Herald Square 1987. Roman slept through this.
I drove over the bridge from Manhattan to Paramus Park Mall in Jersey to see Santa. 1992.
Yes. I did. I dressed Jake up and walked over to the studio at Channel 7 to take a picture with Regis Philbin. I wanted a memory of my favorite morning show. Don’t judge! Jake doesn’t look too happy. ……
My “fat ass” Christmas. I think it was baby weight from Oona… *yeah right*
My “skinny ass” Christmas. This is MUCH better. I could cry looking at my ass. I remember that skirt well. Size 4. FOUR! Suede. I need to go on a diet come January 1st!
Oona with a random Santa. I think this was at St. Ignatius or Good Shepherd.
Oh…and just in case Jake wonders if I really AM his mother…….
Then the New Jersey Years.
Oona during the “American Girl” years Christmas! I actually still have that hat. I loved it so much on her that I hoarded it!
More “American Girl” This was the Samantha Christmas!
Jake–ever the Red Sox fan–and the great Fenway pop up book. More plaid pajama bottoms!
Roman and the Giants Christmas. You know, I really like the tree we had that year. We went to a tree farm to cut our own tree and I fell into a ditch. I was seriously cut up. It was the first and last time we cut our own tree!
My brother Pete in the background. Dazed. Just. Dazed!
Now we have the Pennsylvania years and I look forward to Christmas Eve when the kids get home!
Welcome to the Pennsylvania years. This was our tree last year. It wasn’t crooked until it fell. It was just too heavy!
Roman, Chippy, Oona and Jake–before we moved from Wayne to Phoenixville. Chippy looks bewildered!
I’ve made traditions for my own family over the years. One was a birthday cake for baby Jesus. Yes. Me, the woman who is against Hipster Jesus being in any part of politics because church and state need to be separate, actually has a spiritual side. Part of our Christmas dessert was the cake…among other things….
I really really got into baking for Christmas because my mother just never did. All of her baking was done from a box or from the local bakery. I couldn’t understand why she never baked from scratch because she really was an excellent cook. But to me, it ain’t the holiday season if I’m not in the kitchen baking all those goodies from scratch!
I’ll start on 2015 Buche de Noel on Monday!
The biscotti is all done and sealed away for Christmas!
I remember fondly the year I made a great number of shepherd’s costumes for the Christmas Pageant at the boy’s school—and the cool thing is they are probably still being used!
Roman looking angelic at the Christmas pageant. Jake was a shepherd but I can’t find the pictures….
It isn’t a bona fide Christmas pageant without the Angels. Check out the scoreboard in the background! I love Catholic school!
Another tradition is the serving of “Martha Stewart Eggnog“. (click for recipe). Over the years, I’ve adjusted to add more booze than her recipe calls for. I love the fact that she doesn’t add cinnamon either! I also use cheap booze too. Cheap. Expensive. They all have the same effect—which is to make me forget about any issues I may be festering over!
I add a bit more than Martha calls for…but this makes for a delicious Christmas beverage….
The eggnog base is “ageing” in the fridge. Egg yolks, sugar, milk and cream have been added to the booze. Raw eggs you say? The alcohol kills any germs. Trust me! This is gonna be a great batch! I serve it in a huge punch bowl and get out the good china cups!
When we lived in Pennington, NJ, the kids and I would drive to the border of Trenton and Hamilton make our annual visit to “Martel’s Christmas Wonderland”
I wonder if I can get Bonaparte to drive me and Chippy to New Jersey to visit Martel’s tomorrow!
A visual delight for children and adults of all ages. There is nothing—and I mean nothing like this. Sometimes we would visit this illuminated landmark more than once a season. I honestly wish I lived across the street from the Martel family.
Martel’s Wonderland. It gets better every year…
Roman filmed one of our trips to Martel’s….
Oona..dazed at Roman’s film directing.
Then there is the telling not of Mary and Joseph’s trek for the birth of Jesus, but the telling of the “Church” story:
St. Alphonsus. The cutest little church ever.
It was our first Christmas in New Jersey. My father had passed away and my mother was visiting as was my youngest brother. We attended Mass early Christmas Eve so we could get home and have a nice dinner and get the kids to bed early. The church, St. Alphonsus, in Hopewell, was very small and we took up an entire side pew. From the corner of my eye, I could see Roman, who was seven years old, whisper something to my brother, Pete. Pete started laughing uncontrollably. During Mass. Pete whispered something to my mother who almost had a heart attack. She did NOT laugh but looked incredibly surprised.
I motioned for Roman to come over to me. I asked him what he said to Pete.
This time Roman did NOT whisper. He said in a loud voice: ” I told Pete that I ‘m so excited about Santa Claus coming to bring presents tonight that I got a boner!”
I started laughing. Out loud. Father Ralph stood at the pulpit and announced to the congregation: “Well, it looks like the Urbanski family is going to have a fun Christmas!”
The telling of that story, much to Roman’s chagrin, has been recited every Christmas since. These days usually after a few egg nogs!
It is then, when I bring out the greatest short story of all time. “The Haki Sack”. Roman wrote this when he was in third grade and we all get a kick out of it! My Roman. He’s such a good sport!
The best thing about this story was that Roman added a list of all the things he would get us for Christmas when he became a millionaire. I’m getting a Mercedes. Unfortunately the list has been misplaced. I hope that damned elf on the shelf didn’t take off with it!
Traditions change and they evolve—but they are still a part of each family’s festivities. Take a moment and think about your traditions and your memories. Time may be fleeting but memories aren’t.
So have lots of fun making new traditions and fun memories! XOXOXOXOXO!!!!
Remember when the movie “Home Alone” came out? I took Jake and his best friend, Kevin to see it in a movie theatre in the Riverdale section of the Bronx. It was one of the most touching and funny holiday movies ever. Here’s the Divine Miss M with some memories from Home Alone 2!!!
Due to the chaos of the Holiday season—what with shopping, baking, cleaning (ugh), and watching all those Christmas movies, I managed to catch up on fellow bloggers’ posts. One of the blogs I enjoy, Kaboodlemum posted about her “Winter Blues” And while reading her post, not only did I find myself wishing I could go to her house and fix her a nice, stiff Hot Toddy and bring her some soup, but I found myself focused on two words as I read them: “Nasal Sprays”.
These words brought to mind my obsession, overuse, addiction to this wonderful form of over-the-counter medicine from years ago. I’ve been “clean” for over twenty years now.
I gift you with yet, another one of my stories.
I was that kid who would constantly get into trouble for the trail of used tissues that would follow me wherever I went. These snot-ridden nuggets of soft paper would escape from their hidden prison of shirtsleeves and fall behind me.
My mother would have to repeat loads of laundry due to the tissues she missed in my pockets. Have you ever seen what a tissue in the laundry does to the rest of the clothing?
…actually, my mother’s reaction was more like running after me with a wooden spoon–and I still managed to leave a trail of tissues…..
I’ll tell you, Felix Unger simply cannot hold a candle to the way I clear MY sinuses.
Yes. I’m even worse than Felix. We could have a sinus clearing competition and I would win!
My left upper arm, as well as my right upper arm had bruises from both my grandmother and my mother poking me when I cleared my sinuses during Sunday Mass. They should have just prayed for me instead.
Most of my life was spent with one clogged nostril. In the summer my nose ran faster than an Olympic sprinter. In the winter, my nose dried up so that I couldn’t even breathe through it. I think that’s what made my “Lawn Eyelind” accent even more annoying.
I’ve been told on MANY occasions that I have a particularly heavy accent. A large part is due to sinus issues!
Every now and then my mother would give me a dose of Neosynephrine nose drops but the drops were not strong enough to break through the clogging. She gave me a little Vicks inhaler to carry around during the day.
One for each nostril. I’ll tell you, I looked pretty darn weird! No wonder I wasn’t one of the “popular” kids!
In the evening she would place a dab of “Vicks Vapo-Rub” under my nose, and for good measure, she would place a bit of this glop on a spoon and make me swallow it. (Which could explain the GERD I now suffer from).
I don’t know how making me swallow this would help unclog my nose. Guess what? It didn’t!
All for naught. I still suffered from a stuffed up nose.
Then I reached adulthood and discovered Afrin Nasal Spray! My nasal passages opened up like the parting of the Red Sea. Afrin was my Moses!
Moses supposes he really helped my noses! Yes. Afrin parted the red sea of clogged nasal passages!
Never again would I suffer from a stuffed nose! I had little spray bottles of Afrin in the kitchen cabinets, in the bathroom, in my bedroom AND one in each of my purses.
Some women collect jewelry. I collected Afrin. Side effects? I did not know there would be any!
If I ever ran out, I would immediately replace. Sometimes, I would be in a place where Afrin Nasal Spray was all sold out or not sold at all–and I would have to use dupes. I became a connoisseur of brands nasal sprays.
Can I just tell you that the “Pathmark” brand was the next best thing? And far less expensive! Alas Pathmark is no longer around. What a shame because their nasal spray was excellent!
The Pathmark brand of nasal spray was just as good as Afrin and a lot less expensive. It’s too bad Pathmark is no longer in business!
Yes. I was addicted. And kind of not in a good way. I would freak out if that last bit of Afrin that I had hidden in the glove compartment was gone.
Basically, I turned into THIS when I ran out of my beloved Afrin!
My boys were late for school on more thanone many occasions because I had to stop at an Upper East Side Pharmacy for my nasal contraband.
After years and years of shoving this controlled substance up my nose, it came to an end.
It was winter. Just after Christmas. I had a horrific cold. My nose was stuffed. My nose was flowing like beer out of a tap. Stuffed. Flowing. Stuffed. Flowing…
More and more Afrin.
And then. I felt a flow coming from the roof of my mouth. It was salty but not phlegmy. I opened my big mouth and blood oozed spewed out.
Naturally, being a drama queen, I completely freaked out and figured I was about to die.
Instead, I called my girlfriend Jeannie. The most logical person I knew. Jeannie also worked at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital at the time. Luckily for me, I have friends in high places because she was able to snag an appointment for me with an eye, ear and nose specialist that afternoon.
Thinking I had a tumor or worse, I never, ever, expected the diagnosis I was given.
The good doctor told me that my nasal passages were worse than a cocaine addict’s. In fact, he asked me if I regularly used cocaine! I told him the only things I placed up my nose were my fingers and nasal spray. I never even used snuff!
The thought of putting THIS up my nose is scary. Ewwww. Only nasal spray and my fingers for MY precious schnoz!
The nasal spray caused incredible damage to the tissue lining my nasal cavity. NOT the tissues that were falling on the doctor’s floor. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was more concerned with saying good bye to Afrin more than the damage the stuff caused.
When I asked him why nasal spray was allowed to be sold to people when it does that much damage, he looked at me and sternly replied that when used properly, for short-term use, as directed, it was a great help. He also went on to say that “Type A personalities, such as you, young lady” should be kept far away from any OTC drug. (Did he know that I swallowed 4 Tylenol at a time too?).
Get dirty thoughts out of your mind. He looked like this when he saw my NASAL cavity. OK?
He then told me that I was no longer allowed to use any nasal spray except for the prescription he wrote out for me. It was a steroid that I would spray into my nose to help heal the tissue.
STERIOD? ME? Screw that shit! I’m not turning into a man! It’s bad enough people have mistaken me for a guy when I’m out and about WITHOUT cosmetics! Don’t Call Me Sir–OK?
No thank you. I may be out of shape, but I don’t want to look like these guys (and lady at the end)!
I thanked him profusely and ran out of his office. And no. I did NOT take the steroid. It’s bad enough that I am mistaken for a man when I’m out and about with no makeup. Do you honestly think I would take a steroid? Forcrissakes no!
That day I stopped taking nasal spray cold turkey. I’m not gonna lie. It’s been a struggle at times.
I still live with a stuffed nostril. I still drop a trail of tissues, but luckily Chippy gets to them before Bonaparte sees them and freaks out.
As I write this, my left nostril is clogged. But I focus on the positive and being ever-optimistic, my right nostril is breathing just fine!
And when I enter a pharmacy, I wax sentimental over the aisle selling nasal sprays. I look longingly at the packaging, and I can close my eyes and envision my shoving that spray as far up my nose as I can.
But…I would rather have my nasal passages in tact!
So that’s my story. If you have a cold, don’t overdo the nasal spray! OK? I realize that addiction isn’t a laughing matter but even so, I have to look back at this with a laugh because I was silly to allow myself become so dependent on this little spray! XOXOXOXOXO!!!
As I continue to listen to Neil Diamond’s Christmas CD, I’m reminded of the one song that made me love him. “Cherry, Cherry” 1967. I was eleven!
I am witness to a wonderful miracle and it would not have happened had we not made the journey to Bethlehem to seek a star.
We were on a mission to follow the great star!
One of my favorite Christmas ornaments was lost misplaced. A small, sparkly, white Moravian Star ornament. Oona gave it to me when she was a freshman in high school. Her German class took a field trip to the Christmas markets in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
A big part of hanging ornaments on the tree is the memories that each one brings. Every year when I hang the star that Oona gave me, I not only think of her, but I think of the great memories of the days when my children were in school and back at home. It’s nice.
When our current Christmas tree was decorated and as I admired our ever-crooked leaning Christmas Tree of Pisa, it occurred to me that the little Moravian star was not hanging from this oversized embellished bush.
The crooked tree was missing my Moravian Star. Hmmmm. Maybe the tree is crooked because it is sad!
I went downstairs and checked the large plastic bin that houses our ornaments. It wasn’t in there. I checked bags and drawers and under furniture. Nothing. It was upsetting to me because I know that it was not thrown in the trash. I also realize that I could have placed it in a random spot anywhere in the house and could possibly find it months from now. This has happened in the past with well-hidden Christmas gifts. Whatever the case, it upset me to no end.
I explained my harrowing and dramatic issue to Bonaparte. We had to make the trip to Bethlehem to find a replacement for my Moravian Star.
And that’s what we did on Saturday. With my Google Maps GPS on the iPhone, Chippy in the back seat, and Neil Diamond’s Christmas CD playing the best assortment of seasonal songs that only a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn can do, we drove on our way to Bethlehem. Pennsylvania.
Only a nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn could get it right! One of the greatest Christmas CD’s of all time!
Bonaparte, Chippy and I were a modern-day trio of the Kings of the Magi—a modern day version of the wise men! Although I don’t know if I qualify as wise.
I had better get my lip and chin waxed soon or I WILL pass for one of the three kings!
We traveled far and wide to get to Bethlehem.
We traveled on the harrowing Schuylkill Parkway in Philadelphia. We trekked onto the toll road of 476 until it narrowed down to an annoying two-lane highway. We left suburban land for the terrain of the rural. We passed cows and horses. And farms.
And when we arrived within the limits of Bethlehem, there stood a building in the background. It looked like a bunch of organ pipes leading up to the heavens. Bonaparte explained to me that it was the old and abandoned Bethlehem Steel Mill.
It’s actually sad that the steel mill is abandoned. Sometimes progress isn’t good to the people who help it….
This little town of Bethlehem was once a thriving city of steel mills and working people. What was left was largely a city that, in spots, was left to decay and depression. Oh—and a downtown area that prided itself as being deemed “Christmas City”!
At least the city can cash in on the name of Bethlehem!
We needed to find the area of Bethlehem that would lead me to my star.
We took a few turns and lo and behold. Before us was a street of many shops. People adorned in brightly colored sweaters and unusual headgear crowded the streets.
Yes. People were dressed in sweaters like this…
..and headgear like this. I felt so out of place dressed in J. Crew from head to toe!
Like Mary and Joseph looking for a place to rest for the evening, Bonaparte and I searched for a parking spot to none avail.
Then I spotted it. The sign hanging from a shop. “The Moravian Bookstore”. Surely, this be the place of the missing star!
Books are just a tiny part of what this store sells. It’s pretty darn amazing!
Whilst Bonaparte and Chippy circled the streets to park our donkey car, I entered into this fascinating building of all things Moravian. Some Moravian History
Ornaments and Mornaments galore.
A bit too cutesy for my taste, but these were selling like condoms before a frat party!
Ceramics.
..just in case you didn’t know where you were…
Moravian Cookie Tins.
Believe me, I was tempted–but not at the price point!
The Bethlehem Star beckoned from above with other Moravian stars suspended in an animated but breathtaking sight. I did not see my Moravian star ornament.
Stars along the ceiling—but where was MY star?
I searched in vain for one who might have been able to lead me to the star that I seeked. I found her in the Teas and Coffee department. I approached and asked if any small Moravian Star ornaments could be found.
Like the stern shop keepers who turned Mary and Joseph away, she looked at me as though I was a special kind of stupid. She grunted and nodded in the direction of the wall to the east. “Over there”.
I was elated and ran to the wall. Alas, the wall did not have a twin of the ornament that my loving daughter gifted me with. Among the mass-produced decorations, I did find two ornaments that could suffice. Actually, they really needed to suffice because Bonaparte would not be too happy if our journey had been for naught.
With ornaments in hand, I paid the proprietor of the shop and went in search for Bonaparte and Chippy. My two kings awaited me around the corner. Off we went on our return journey to Chateau Bonaparte!
That night, I hung the two ornaments on the branches of our crooked tree.
This white sparkly star was pretty but could not replace the one Oona got me…
….nor could this!
I heard a voice from the heavens. It was the angel who rested atop our crooked tree (with an excellent sense of balance, I must say).
Ok. I’ll admit, I DID hear her speak to me after I sampled the base for the Martha Stewart Eggnog!
She look-ed down at me and said:
“You must go back to the bin that stores the ornaments. You must look hard and dig through all the mess that you haven’t cleaned up”.
I walked down to the closet, opened it and searched the bin.
Well, I guess the bin IS somewhat askew. I suppose it can be organized. One day!
There, under layers of tissue paper that I should have trashed and was too lazy to do so, I found it. The Moravian Star that Oona gave me years ago.
My star was damaged, one of the points had fallen off. Perhaps my ornament was hiding on me because she realized she was no longer perfect. I took her in my hand and whispered.
Oops! One of the points was gone. My star is damaged!
“Hey. Don’t worry about your missing point. We have a Great Cornholio ornament that’s missing hands and feet!”. “Imperfections just add character”. “Come with me my little star; and shine and make my tree more beautiful and spectacular than ever!!!!”
He went to war with one of our dogs. I guess he lost!
My little Moravian Star’s story now has another chapter. And the other Moravian stars that hang on our tree have a new chapter to tell.
In her imperfection, she is even more beautiful. I’m so happy I found her!
And this is my Christmas miracle!
Have a Mayer-Y Christmas!
I’m sure I’ll be posting before Santa visits, but so close to that special day and I have tons to do–so I’m wishing you well today–just in case I forget to do so later! XOXOXO
Seriously—what other Christmas carol could I give to you today? “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem”..as only Neil Diamond can sing it!
Happy Sunday everyone. With all the baking and running around and wrapping gifts and everything else that goes on as the clock to Christmas tick tocks away, I was notified of a repost of a little article I wrote for “FrenchEntree” last year at this time.
Quite honestly, I forgot about it—and when I reread it this morning, I was moved because it brought back memories…and so many beautiful ones. Here’s a copy of the link from Twitter. FrenchEntree’s site because I was unable to insert from Twitter!
Enjoy the read—it was like a little regifting from French Entrée! XOXOXO!!!
I’m in Paris. It’s evening and the snow is falling. I’m standing before the huge open window in the parlour of the apartment on the Rue des Grands Augustins. I’m gazing at the white lights twinkling on the Eiffel Tower in the distance and it’s a lovely picture. This picture is a memory of my last winter in France. In reality, the Christmas season has started and I’m sitting at home gazing out of my window at the twinkling lights on my lawn. It is the first snowfall of the season and I’m waxing nostalgic about my visits to France.
I miss my French morning routine of coffee, brioche or croissants with Vincent and Daniele to discuss daily plans. I miss the mundane: scurrying down Rue Dauphine in the early evening to grab fresh, crusty baguettes for dinner, only to immediately finish half of one because the scent and feel was too tempting to bear; mulling over which cheese to choose and having the fromagier let me sample enough for a meal. I even miss struggling in my extremely poor French to get my point across on any given topic, while earning the approval of my French neighbours because I simply tried. I miss sitting on my favourite bench in Place Dauphine, people watching for hours and scripting their life stories in my mind. I miss the spontaneous drives through Paris late at night, when traffic dies down and we have the streets to ourselves cruising aimlessly through the various arrondissements. I own that City of Lights and I miss doing everything and nothing!
In the south, I miss the cicadas, their chants and rhythmic cadence. And in the evening when that sound is blended with the deep baritone of frogs and toads, I miss the symphonic summer melody that lulls me into a deep slumber. I miss exploring the unknown little beaches scattered around the other side of Cannes and Antibes – our little secret places. I miss the boat ride from Sainte-Maxime to Saint-Tropez – the spray of salty water pinching my cheeks while the dock of St. Tropez becomes more visible and that feeling of excitement flows through me. The dry heat of the Côte d’Azur is always missed because it ensures me a great hair day! I miss the long, relaxed summer dinners on the terrace that Vincent and I treat as though each were our last, truly enjoying each other’s company.
Some may make a list for Santa or Father Christmas or Papa Noël of the gifts they wish for. I make a mental list of thanks for my memories in France, with hopes that there will continue to be more.
For most of us, the time leading up to Christmas is spent trying to deal with the crowds and mayhem at the mall. Long lines at the cashier. Pushing and shoving. Cursing the driver that snuck into the parking space that was custom made for you. Having to deal with the scent of those damned pinecones.
Those horrific scented pinecones. I just cannot escape them!
For others it’s cyber-shopping and waiting until the Target or Macy’s site that crashed is back up and running.
I’ll tell you. I was at the mall the other day to pick up stocking stuffers. It was also a great time for me to get my lazy ass into exercise mode by conducting my personal “mall speed walk”. While on this walk I stopped into Ann Taylor Loft. I was drawn by the sign that read “50% off All Sweaters”. I couldn’t resist. I spotted an adorable sweater. It was white with black snowflakes knitted into the cable knit design. Half price off $69.50 came to $34.75. I could spend money that I didn’t have Bonaparte’s well-earned money then lie about spending. It looked adorable and would be the perfect match for my black J. Crew Front Zip Pixie Pants. A nice look for Christmas Eve.
I’m still annoyed about the false advertising for this sweater. Maybe it’ll be half-off this weekend!
When I got to the register to pay, it rang up full price. I explained to the sales assistant that it was half price—just as the sign said. She looked at me as though I was a special kind of dumb and said the sign only referred to SOLID sweaters. I failed to read the small print.
And this is what bothers me about Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza/Allotherholidaysincluded shopping. Retailers take advantage is such a sneaky way. I think the train of thought is that the consumer will be so embarrassed and intimidated by the fact they read the sign wrong that they do end up paying the full purchase price out of humiliation.
Not me!!! I just politely smile, wink my eye and nod my head with an “I’ll be back when this item goes on sale!”
I’m glad that my Christmas shopping is finished. Other than wrap more gifts, which I will proceed to do delightfully, my only concern is the Christmas baking.
Bonaparte will be dismayed to see yet, another mess that I’ve made. The wrapping mess will continue next week!
I really get all serious and intense about baking for the Christmas holidays. The Buche de Noel has become a tradition for Christmas dessert. I’m already planning a new look for this year’s Buche.
Last year’s Buche de Noel. I made marzipan mushrooms and filled the cake with home-made chestnut cream–and that’s only because I refused to pay $15.00 for the canned stuff. I did a better job making it myself!
The cookie requests have come in. Naturally, the Momofuku Milk Bar Cookies will be a staple. As will the Cranberry and Pistachio Biscotti. The internet gifted me with a great sugar cookie recipe some years ago—the dough is already in the freezer.
Cranberry and pistachio biscotti will be made again this year…..
The corn cookie dough is in the freezer just waiting to be baked!
Freshly baked Brioche and a nice Boule will be accompanying our Christmas meals.
Thank god for my Pullman loaf pan. It’s the only pan I use to make my Brioche!
But there is always the request to bake something I’ve never attempted.
Bonaparte hinted around that he loved and missed the Pain aux Raisins that he used to enjoy as a boy when growing up in Paris. He waxed sentimental about the taste and how delicious they were and if he could only have them once again.Epicurious Pain aux Raisins Recipe.
Ok buddy—I got the hint and made them on Tuesday. In my research, I found out there are two kinds. One made with croissant dough and one made with brioche dough. Since I’ve mastered the brioche—that’s what I used for the pain aux raisins.
The Pain aux Raisins is dressed with a vanilla pastry creme.
Then the dough is topped with the pastry creme and raisins.
They turned out pretty darn good if I may say so myself. In fact, Bonaparte has eaten six of them already! I’ve wrapped the remainder and froze them for future consumption.
Next time I’ll cut the dough a bit thinner–Bonaparte told me to! *eyeroll*. I also want to make them with cherries and pistachios!
Actually, I was pretty much confident to make this treat because I’ve mastered brioche.
Requests have been coming in from Bonaparte and Miss Oona for croissant. Oona has also requested Pain au Chocolat.
Out of curiosity, being nosy, wanting to see if I could do this, pure love for my family, I decided to have a go at making croissant and pain au chocolat.
There was a time when I had a “yeast infliction”. I was afraid to bake anything that called for yeast. However, living with a Frenchman and his constant badgering for home baked bread, I had no choice. It was either “merde” or get off the pot. I went with merde!
With lots of determination and practice, I finally understood the personality of yeast. I proofed my love many times in the form of rising dough!
Off I went. I didn’t climb mountains, but I climbed the stairs to our office and started researching croissant recipes on the net. I “YouTubed” techniques. Most of the recipes were daunting and the videos really weren’t that much of a help. I settled on a recipe for croissant dough and croissant from the Epicurious site. Epicurious croissant recipe
For the pain au chocolat, I improvised by using a combination of the same dough from Epicurious and the filling and instructions from Food Network Canada Foodnetwork Canada: Pain au chocolat.
Let me tell you something. This whole process “proofed” to be tedious. Folding, rolling, and chilling the dough four times. Leaving the dough in the fridge overnight then taking it out and rolling it again. The more I rolled, the more flour I needed to add to the surface and it was making me nervous.
Rolling…
Folding and chilling.
Let’s not even broach the subject of the mess I made. Listen—my kitchen is pretty big, but the actual work surface isn’t. It was almost impossible for me to roll out the dough to 44 inches lengthwise.
Still Life With Mess. A study in kitchen by me.
Bonaparte happened to be home in the late afternoon and decided to do laundry. That meant whatever “dirty” clothing I had needed to be washed. THAT meant Bonaparte hovering over me and my mess and mumbling about how my shirt was a filthy and disgusting because it had gotten full of flour and I hadn’t wiped it off and Chippy decided to lick it off. And my shirt was filled with a pasty glue-like substance of flour and dog saliva.
I later found Chippy under the tree he looked sick after licking all the flour off of my shirt. Hey, I would have let him clean the shirt. Bonaparte was not happy!
Bonaparte in front of me with the laundry basket and pointing to my shirt, I stood in the middle of the kitchen, took the shirt off, and continued rolling the dough. Dough you get the visual? Thank god the blinds were drawn!
All I’ll say is that I could have had my version of “The Topless Martha Stewart Special 2015”
The best part of the recipe was pounding the butter together to make a square!
Read below–then you will know why THIS was my favorite part of the recipe!
I have to tell you; last week I had two of the worst job interviews of my life—OK? The first was a great opportunity. Large and stable company with lots of growth. They recently moved into a building not too far from where I live. I went into that interview itching to be the best “me” that I could. I researched the company, knew everything about the entire leadership team and the goals of upper management.
The interview lasted less than 20 minutes. The woman gave a brief description of the position and every time I spoke, she ignored me and looked at her computer screen. No kidding! I never even got the chance to tell all I knew about the company. I’ve never felt so much like a non-person in my entire life. Rude is rude—and respect is respect and I only hope that it wasn’t my age that made that woman ignore me and gape at her computer. It. Was. Awful.
The next interview started out well. Then it unraveled into a disaster. I was given a skills test. And that’s fine. My skills are excellent. However, THIS Company didn’t have an IT department and everything was done on the “Cloud” system (???). They also had a brand-spanking new Word and Excel program.
I had no issue at all with the Excel portion but the Word portion was awful. Too many bells and whistles had been changed and the toolbar was nothing like I was used to. Although I managed to do what was needed, it took “too long”. Another disaster.
I cried the entire way home. I cried at home. I cried myself to sleep. Then I became full of anger……
..and the anger really helped with the pounding of the butter!All my frustrations from those horrific interviews had been beaten away with the rolling pin slammed down on those three sticks of butter! I had a beautiful square of pale yellow that would eventually be placed in the middle of my croissant dough.
To make a long story somewhat shorter, I was not entirely successful in my croissant and pain au chocolat endeavor.
I screwed up. The pastries never rose during the proofing.
To make matters worse, I rolled the pain au chocolat and should have folded them over. Arrrgh!!
All the measuring with a ruler and precise cutting just could not help my attempt! A real “pain au the ass”
The pastries never rose properly during the last proof. They did not turn out flaky. Buttery, absolutely. Tasty—actually the pain au chocolate tasted pretty darn good, but didn’t look pretty.
The croissant dough just doesn’t look right for this pain au chocolat–but the inside was actually decent. I dunno. Maybe I can use the leftover dough for pigs-in-a-blanket!
The croissants ended up to be a fail for me. Too heavy. The look atrocious. All that work and I had to throw half of them in the trash. Seriously. The oven temperature was too high as well.
The croissants were too dense and just were “meh”. I may need a lighter touch in rolling out the dough. I honestly just don’t know. Perhaps I need to enroll in a class. I do know that next time I’m using Francois Payard’s recipe. I wish I had seen this recipe first!
In the meantime, back to the drawing board for both these recipes. Oh. I will master this. I will not give up. If I have to get into my car, drive to Manhattan and stalk beg Francois Payard for his secrets I will. I may get arrested for being a stalker but it’ll be worth the prison time.
Monsieur Payard looks like a nice person (actually he and my brother Pete could pass as twins), maybe he WOULD help me!
Why? Because I love my family and I love to bake. It’s my therapy. I “dough” sincerely mean that—and baking is a way to “proof” my love for my family and friends!
Ever the optomist, I may suck at trying to become re-employed again, but I KNOW I will figure the croissant/pain au chocolat recipes out and I’ll keep trying and trying!
Successes and fails—Gerry Rafferty’s song comes to mind” Get It Right the Next Time! I will! XOXOXOX!
Shit. Yes. On Friday I stepped into shit. Dog shit. The dog shit wasn’t Chippy’s. It belonged to another neighborhood canine. Here’s what happened.
I took Chippy the Wonderdog out for a little “bathroom break” before he and I were to get into the car to run our errands. After I bent over and scooped up his solid waste, I placed it into a bag and took it over to the trash can. My little rascal wasn’t ready for the car yet so I took him he took me for a little walk.
Back in the car, I noticed a very particular and disagreeable odor while driving to Home Goods. It couldn’t possibly have been coming from Chippy—but yet, I kept smelling this shitty odor. I had an epiphany. If it wasn’t Chippy; it had to be me! Oh God—as soon as I got to the parking lot, I looked down at my little cordovan and tassled Bass Weejun. The side and the bottom of my shoe was covered in dog doo-doo!
Yes. I realize this is a disgusting image–but this is what happens when doggie parents do not pick up after their little angels. THANK GOD IT WAS NOT SUMMERTIME–I would have been barefoot…
I shan’t (um..I’m on a Dickens roll from the movie marathon the other day) tell you what words came spewing out of my mouth when I saw just how covered my shoe was. I will give you a hint though. One word was “mother”. The other word started with the letter “f” and ended with the letter “r”. I also ranted on a variation of the word that starts with the letter “f” and ends with the letter “k”.
I’m a rather classy broad when it comes to getting my best gutter mouth on—especially when I have a great excuse. Not to be off topic, but isn’t it ironic that so many people who demand the right to bear arms, which leads to violence, will love any violent act, but show them a tit or curse in front of their monstrous offspring and they will be “offended”. I’m trying to process that.
Luckily, I carry empty plastic bags in the car. For Chippy. Just in case. I wiped the shit off my shoe and proceeded into Home Goods. My mission was to find a skirt for our Crooked Christmas Tree. Every evening after dinner, Bonaparte summons me over to the tree where I hold it still whilst (Dickens!) Bonaparte fiddles around trying to straighten said tree. Almost a week later, the tree still remains crooked.
A week later and the tree is still crooked–but I have the skirt!
Anyway, keeping with my rustic theme, I found a burlapish skirt with red snowflakes. It does the job. It was the right price too–$19.99.
Here’s a better pic. Isn’t it cute? It matches my rustic theme too–I’m so happy!
I figured I could also wear it as a cape if need be. What if I go out Christmas Caroling? I can throw the tree skirt over my shoulders and have a very festive but chic look!
….I could also stand in as “OLD” Mrs. Claus! Look at my roots–they look like…..shit! Wow–this weekend IS starting off pretty shitty!
I’m telling you, this morning of errands really had to be well-planned. Since I had Chippy with me, I had to be strategic. Two food runs had to be made. One run to Wegmans for groceries and the other to the Farmer’s Market in Wayne. I couldn’t leave any food unattended while my little angel was in the car because he would eat whatever I purchased. This was some serious errand Fung Shui.
Upon leaving Home Goods, I drove over to Wegmans. The holiday baking preps needed to be started and I loaded up on all the healthy stuff—like butter and sugar and full-on gluten in the form of white flour. Chips both chocolate and white chocolate were also loaded into the cart. Sugar too. Anything else to add to the holiday weight gain was also thrown into the cart. Got the groceries and headed home. Well. Almost. I had to stop at Starbucks for my Nonfat Chai Latte—because I’m addicted.
Home again. Took Chippy for another bathroom break and put the groceries away.
Something tells me that Chippy would rather be lazing on the love seat than accompanying me in the car. My driving isn’t THAT bad!
Onto the mall. Did you know that stratagem is needed to plan your trips to the mall during Christmas season? Monday through Thursdays are good. Friday, Saturday and Sundays are bad. I braved Friday by parking way, way, way in the back area of King of Prussia Mall. The parking lot is dangerous. The added benefit was that I was able to use this far away parking as an excuse for faux-exercising. I sprinted into the mall.
Why did I go to the mall, you may wonder. I received a gift card from Sephora. $20.00 off of any purchase over $50.00. This gave me an excuse to spend $30.00 that I didn’t have. But hey, Sephora was thinking about me so how could I not reciprocate? I picked up the Urban Decay Naked Smokey Eye Shadow palette. This is normally fifty-four bucks. Imagine my holiday glee when I spent only $34.00 that I didn’t have!
Merry Christmas to me from Sephora–I am still questioning how Sephora gave me a gift and I STILL ended up spending money I don’t have! It’s a great palette though!
Next stop at the mall was DAVIDsTEA.
DAVIDsTEA is the latest addition to our mall. I will be spending much time here!
Oona was all ga-ga over the tea she had when she was in Toronto and could not wait to get back home to tell me all about this relatively new tea company. I thought it would be a great idea to pick up a package of the tea she raved about so we could enjoy some over Christmas while pushing each other’s buttons!
Oona could not stop raving about the Toasted Walnut Tea. I’m in love with the smoky flavored Lapsang Souchong Star Tea–it tastes very earthy–like dirt!
Back in the car and to the Farmer’s Market in Wayne. Bonaparte requested that I make Cornish Game Hen for Saturday night’s dinner. I was game for that (pun delightfully intended)! Going to the Farmer’s Market in Wayne by myself proves my love and admiration for Bonaparte. The place is a filthy mess. The many stands are dirty and shoddy looking. In the past, I’ve purchased fish that I couldn’t eat because it wasn’t fresh. I’ve purchased baked goods that I’ve thrown in the trash and I’ve also had dried up cous-cous salad from one of the vendors. I am not a fan of this place.
However, the saving grace to this place of filth and disgust is the wonderful Rittenhouse Farms. Their poultry is off the charts amazing. I don’t know what the Rittenhouse people are feeding their chickens, hens, rabbits and pheasants, but whatever it is—the poultry is meaty, moist and delicious. It’s the only place I can buy chicken breasts. AND their stand is the only one that is spanking clean!
Do you live near me? Might I suggest a trip to the Wayne Farmer’s Market–just for the sake of purchasing your poultry at Rittenhouse Farms!!
The cleanest vendor at the market. The staff at Rittenhouse are just as nice as their products!
Sometimes Bonaparte amazes me because he is such a clean freak and the fact he loves this pig sty of a market is a mystery to me. I mean, he practically goes into cardiac arrest when I put my feet up on the dashboard of the car because my shoes and/or my feet leave marks—but he’ll be in seventh heaven at a filthy market that sells food!!!!! Go figure.
Errands completed and onto Saturday….
Saturday had me pondering adding a second blog. I’m seriously thinking of creating a food blog. I know. I know. Who needs another food blog—right? This blog would be an extension of my imperfections. Just a blog with my recipes and successes and complete fails.
The issue is working with WordPress. Hey. I love WP, and I just renewed my plan. But trying to navigate through WP is like me being lost in a forest without a compass or a map. Actually it is more like me being lost in a forest with a compass and a map. I understand neither. Trust me, if I go through with this there will be much more cursing and unladylike behavior!
Giving up on the second blog, I had to clean out the pantry. AGAIN. I needed to get organized for my holiday baking and truth be told, I can’t bake until the mess is tidied up and organized!
Before–what a mess
After–nice and organized
Let’s see how long the pantry will stay organized!
I did manage to make a lovely dinner of Cornish hen with a sauce made of a cherry and brandy reduction, potatoes sautéed in duck fat, microwaved frozen spinach and a crème caramel for dessert.
I spatchcocked the hens. Spatchcocking is simply cutting the backbone out and flattening the bird–butterflying. It makes for a more even roast and shortens the time! Don’t the cherries and rosemary look festive?
Cubed potatoes in duck fat are the best way to make potatoes! Duck fat rules!
Dessert was Bonaparte’s favorite. Creme Caramel (it’s CAR-A-MEL. Not CARMUL!). He ate the whole thing!
At least part of my day was productive.
Sunday had me doing housework in the form of dusting. I hate dusting. But the saving grace is that I allow the dust to pile up so when I do dust, I make it worthwhile!
Dusting is the most annoying chore. I would rather spend a weekend ironing!
I also gave myself a roller set. THAT process took all day, and in the evening my hair still wasn’t completely dried. If I had the head of hair I used to have before losing half of it, my tresses would still be damp on this Monday!
The end result of my roller set. At least my gray roots are well-hidden!
A search for one of my favorite Christmas ornaments was also conducted. The Moravian Star ornament that Oona got me years ago. I searched high and low for this sparkly little beauty and it is nowhere to be found. I’m incredibly upset because of the sentimental value this gem offers.
The Moravian Star ornament that Oona gave me was one of my favorites. Watch–I’ll find it in some obscure place some time in July!
Tomorrow I will drive into Bethlehem, Pennsylvania to the Moravian Bookstore to replace it. But I’ll wait till Oona comes home on Christmas Eve to have her hang it on the tree.
Our weekend ended watching Louis Malle’s “Murmur of the Heart”. I hadn’t seen it in like thirty years and it held up well—in addition, Bonaparte’s uncle, Daniel Gelin played the dad. Something even Bonaparte forgot about. Ya know, my weekend may have started out like shit, but it ended nicely!
Louis Malle touched a taboo subject in THIS film. It was actually a good movie!
Enjoy the beginning of your week everyone. Hanukkah has begun and to my friends and family who celebrate this wonderful festival of lights, I wish you an enjoyable eight days and evenings….. Love, Lights and Peace! XOXOXOXO
It was the laziest of times. It wasn’t the worst of times though!
Holiday stress. Job interviews gone bad. My bald spot getting bigger. Mass shootings now a normal occurrence. News reporters being too politically correct. Dirty politicians. What’s a sensitive girl like me to do?
I’ll tell ya what to do!
Keep those pajamas on. Don’t bathe or shower. Stay in bed. Get that remote.
Yeah, I need a pedicure but who cares? It’s winter. I would rather laze and watch old movies on TV!
The morning started innocently and productively enough. While enjoying my morning crack, drug, cup of coffee, I grabbed the remote in order to turn the TV on and educate myself in the current events that may have occurred the evening before. You know the little things—like mass shootings, rapes, murder—it’s just a shot away. It’s just a shot away.
Yes. Merry Clayton’s voice tells it like it is with all the bad stuff that’s going on around us.
Instead, I stopped and went numb when I saw the Turner Movie Classic channel’s guide. “David Copperfield” was just about to start. Followed by “A Tale of Two Cities”. Followed by “Great Expectations”. Followed by “Oliver Twist”. It didn’t even matter that Nicolas Nickleby and A Christmas Carol were not on the roster. The movies that were being shown would have me being lazy from 6:30 in the morning until 3:30 in the afternoon!
What. A. Delightful. Day! I’m tired of the reality binging. Andy Cohen’s Bravo franchises of tacky housewives and other entertaining trollops can’t hold a candle to the trials and tribulations of any of Charles Dickens’ main characters!
The only thing I would exercise would be my right to lie in bed all day and stare entranced at my television set!
With Chippy beside me, my day was planned and started off with David Copperfield.
My Chippy is so intelligent. It was about time he learned about the works of Charles Dickens to begin with!
How did Charles Dickens do it? What an imagination! His stories are dark—and every now and then there is a sprinkling of humor and gaiety, but those moments are few and far between. The theme remains the same wealth v. poverty. Loss of loved ones. Abandonment. Dread. And there is always that optimistic glimmer of light at the end. (Well, maybe not that much light at the end of A Tale of Two Cities).
He always had a great story. Oh..and the characters! In all of his books, he managed to have colorful and flamboyant characters who were good and kind and funny—and they were a sprinkling amid the torn, sad, pathetic and mean ones who graced the books and films come to life!
There could never be a remake with an all-star cast like this one!
These are the original soap operas! David Copperfield played with such gut-wrenching drama by the adorable Freddie Bartholomew.
I wish the child actors of today were even one iota as great as Freddie Bartholomew. He was so incredibly melodramatic without being precocious! I cried at his David Copperfield. I cried!
His widowed mother Clara is such a fragile being. She ends up marrying the awful Mr. Murdstone, played by Basil Rathbone. Mr. Murdstone, along with his sister Jane, wreak havoc with abusive toward David. His only friend and confidante is the Nurse Peggotty (what a name—right???)
Baaahhh-zil Rathbone is so believable as such a nasty Mr. Murdstone. If he were MY stepfather, I would have killed him!
And when David’s poor mother dies, he decides to walk to Dover from London, your heart breaks! During his run or rather, walk away, David meets up with Mr. Wilkins Micawber, played by the great W.C. Fields—comic relief! Micawber is a pleasant con artist of sorts.
Freddie Bartholomew and W.C. Fields were quite the team!
From then, the film shows the difficult travel through visuals of city milestones and poor little David, becoming raggier and dirtier with distance. When he finally reaches Aunt Betsy’s home, she faints at the sight of him. I would too—those shoes were horrific!
Things are brighter at Aunt Betsy’s. She has a boarder at her home, a simple and daft character—Mr. Dick, and the both of them offer humor to the story. Betsy seems prim and proper but when Murdstone and his sister show up to take David away, Betsy’s compassionate side shines through. Life gets good for our little David.
More comic relief in the form of Mr. Dick and Aunt Betsy. Edna May Oliver is my new favorite actress!
David is sent to school in Canterbury and stays at the home of Mr. Whitfield, Aunt Betsy’s business manager. David and Whitfield’s daughter, Agnes, become close friends and kindred spirits.
The “humble” crook, Uriah Heep and young David
Lots more drama—Whitfield has a clerk, Uriah Heep (not the rock group), who claims humility, but in reality is a miserly cheat and scoundrel. David reunites with the wickedly funny Micawber who ends up working for Uriah Heep.
Copperfield, much to the dismay of Agnes Whitfield, ends up marrying Dora. Dora is basically a bimbo—she can’t cook or clean. She’s like a two-year old and is played by none other than Maureen O’Sullivan, Mia Farrow’s mother.
Talk about dumb–Dora was as dumb as they come. Grown up David was love struck for her! Men–they never change!
She gets sick and dies and it is discovered that Uriah Heep is a creep and Micawber saves the day and Whitfield’s money and David and Agnes get married and live happily ever after!
All’s well that ends well. David and Agnes finally end up together. Aunt Betsy is happy as a little clam! Its so filled with gaiety and wonderment!
Next up was “A Tale of Two Cities”.
I’m in love with Ronald Colman. Actually many of the cast of A Tale of Two Cities were in David Copperfield!
The story takes place between London and Paris during the beginning of the French Revolution
Forget Le Miz–THIS group from A Tale of Two Cities was much more revolutionary!
. In a nutshell, nice French doctor released from 18 years as prisoner in the Bastille.
Poor Dr. Manette. He looked awful when Lucie came to bring him to England. His daughter Lucie is supposed to be all of 17 years old. She looks about 30!
One of his workers who now owns a wine shop is “hiding” him until the doctor’s banker and daughter come to bring him to England. The doctor was imprisoned because of a bad and evil aristocrat (dastardly played by Basil Rathbone).
Rathbone rocked the evil Marquis St. Evremonde. I want that hat. I want those boots.
Wine shop owner’s wife is a revolutionary extremist. She hates everyone She wants more heads than ISIS!
Blanche Yurka was fantastic as the extremist revolutionary, Madame Defarge. She gave new meaning to the phrase “off with their heads”!
Kind nephew of evil aristocrat is on ship to England with doctor and his daughter. He wants nothing to do with evil aristocracy.
After getting a good look at Charles Darnay, the handsome aristocrat, I’m sure Madame Defarge wanted BOTH of his heads! Yes she did!
Nephew and daughter hit it off. Sparks are a flyin’.
Sydney Carton, a jaded, drunken but intelligent attorney ends up being the morale of the story.
I’m diggin’ this unkempt Ronald Colman. He’s so intense!
When aristocrat nephew is manipulated into returning to France and jailed, Carton tries to help. In the meantime, he falls in love with Lucie, the doctor’s daughter who is now married to aristocratic Charles Darnay.
The brooding Carton, still unkempt but hot, loves the angelic and very married Lucie. Isn’t Elizabeth Allan beautiful as Lucie? check out her brows and her matte lipstick!
Both men resemble each other. Charles Darnay, the aristocrat, is scheduled to lose his head. Carton devises a plan to switch himself with Darnay. The story ends happy for some but not for Carton. It’s incredibly sad.
Waiting to lose their heads, Carton helps the servant of an aristocrat come to terms with her fate.
One of the best scenes in the movie, however, was the fight scene between Miss Poss and Madame Defarge. Moss Poss is Lucie Manette’s (the doctor’s daughter) nurse servant. These two old gals are fighting it out knocking into tables, rolling on the floor—it’s greatness!
This was THE epic girl fight. It didn’t end too well for Madame Defarge!
My personal favorite Charles Dickens book-as-movie was next. The 1946 version of “Great Expectations” and don’t let anyone tell you any different. This is the best adaptation. Oh, I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that David Lean wrote the screenplay?
This poster says it all. The movie was filled with everything. It “introduced” the very young Jean Simmons. She was such a bitch too!
The movie starts out dark and eerie and young Pip who just happens to be in a grave yard, is grabbed by an escaped convict who threatens him if he tells anyone about this convict’s whereabouts. Pip promises not to rat him out and brings him food and a bottle of brandy in the wee hours of the next morning. The convict is grateful to our Pip.
The movie opens with Pip at his parents’ grave. Who does this in the early morning hours????
I would have that same look on my face, too, if I ran into a convict who looked like that!
Pip isn’t exactly the picture of happiness. He lives with his miserable and abusive sister and her husband. Her husband is a blacksmith and is incredibly kind to Pip. His sister is a real bitter piece of work. She ends up dying from being attacked. Thankfully, Biddy, the girl who is hired to help Pip’s bitchy sister after her attack, and Joe fall in love and eventually marry.
In the meantime, the loony spinster, Miss Havisham, who lives up the road *cough* requests Pip’s services to come and keep company for Havisham’s adopted and beautiful daughter, Estella.
All Miss Havisham wants out of life is to have Pip’s heart broken by Estella! I think Miss Havisham needs a good protein treatment on that head of hair of hers!
Estella is an entitled bitch in training. Miss Havisham gets off on this because she was left hanging at the altar and hates men. She wants Estella to emotionally destroy poor Pip-as if he doesn’t have enough on his plate with that nasty sister of his.
These two dolls are an emotional tag team.
Time marches on. Pip is now a blacksmith apprentice. He is still wheeling Miss Havisham around and Estella is now a grown up bitch—the original “Mean Girl”.
One day, there is a knock at the door. Pip gets news that he has a benefactor and must leave within a week for London—where he will become a gentleman. Pip thinks his benefactor is Miss Havisham. Um. Pip. Really? Havisham wants to destroy you! Wake up boy!
My favorite part of the movie. Pip in London as a gentleman. John Mills looks fabulous in his top hats, frilly shirts and slim cut Victorian suits. A real dandy I must say!
John Mills, left as Pip, with his friend and roommate. Check out the outfit on Pip. The bow. The bow. I wish I had a bow like that for Oona’s hair when she was a little girl!
Anyway, Pip goes to London, becomes a gentleman and sometime later, one night, there is a knock on the door. It’s the convict that Pip fed and didn’t rat out. He ended up in Australia, became a sheep farmer, hit the big-time and amassed a fortune. He was the benefactor who looked upon Pip as a son. It gets better. It turns out he was also Estella’s father. Is this juicy or what????
In true Dickens fashion, the convict gets caught—again, and this time ends up in prison. He gets deathly ill. Pip keeps visiting him and our dear convict dies.
Pip always did the right thing–and he stayed with his convict benefactor until the end. This was a misty-eyed scene for sure.
Pip ends up in a melancholy mood, goes to visit Havisham’s home one more time and sees it is for sale. He also notices the front gate is ajar. He enters into the gloomy, dark and eerie home. He goes to the darkened room that Havisham occupied and what does he see? Estella. Sitting in Havisham’s chair.
This is a very confrontational scene. Pip FINALLY puts his foot down and Estella remains cold and icy!
Pip rips the dark drapes off the windows. He opens the windows to allow the beams of light to shine in on the room. He shakes Estella and tells her she “shan’t” end up like Havisham. Estella starts mumbling about her not getting married—yada yada.
This is one sexy Pip scene. Thank God he took that huge bow off!!
The movie ends with Pip and Estella hand in hand walking out of the mansion and into the sunlit gardens.
Last was “Oliver Twist”. We are all familiar with the musical “Oliver”. Right? “Oliver Twist” is so much better because of its darkness and somber mood. David Lean surely knows how to write a depressing screenplay!
Last Dickens of the day. Bonaparte was very concerned that I did nothing but binge on these movies–scared the “Dickens” outta him!
Poor Oliver Twist. Nobody wanted him. And he was so cute. I know I would not be able to resist that cute face! The orphanage doesn’t want him—because he got the short straw and he asked for more gruel, he was labeled “obstinate”. He becomes boy for sale.
I would have given Oliver a steak. Rare. With a nice Madeira sauce and mushrooms, mashed potatoes, peas and for dessert, to keep it healthy and gluten-free, a slice of flourless chocolate cake!
A funeral director buys him. Oliver is treated like garbage. He runs away.
While in the slums of London, The Artful Dodger spots him and brings Oliver Twist to Fagin’s lair. The Dodger was played by Anthony “Stop The World I Want To Get Off” Newley. He was much better looking as he aged!
Newley looked much better as he got older–but he was great as The Artful Dodger
Now here’s where it gets interesting. In the past I’ve only seen bits and pieces of this version and never paid much attention to Alec Guiness’ Fagin. I couldn’t get past the fact that he sounded more like a student of the Yeshiva than a crook. It was weird. This is Victorian England for cryin’ out loud! Besides, he looked kind of ethnic to put it mildly. Turns out there was a huge controversy about that. The production was deemed anti-semetic. I have to say—I agree with that. Watch for yourself and come back and tell me what you think.
The visual of Alec Guiness as Fagin was very disturbing..and when I Googled, I found out my feelings were justified!
In the meantime, Oliver is being taught to observe the pickpocketing expertise of Artful Dodger and the other naughty boys. In a mix-up, Oliver is blamed for the crime the others carried out and taken to be tried. The man who was the victim, Mr. Brownlow, is compassionate and ends up taking Oliver Twist home to nurse and take care of.
Poor Oliver Twist finally gets the good treatment he deserves–but not for long!
When Fagin and his peer, the wicked Bill Sykes find this out they go bat shit crazy in fear of being found out. Bill Sykes, for some ungodly reason, has a girlfriend. Nancy. She’s the good bad girl.
Bill Sykes, the gun-crazed bully takes Oliver with him on his escape.
As Oliver Twist’s bad luck would have it, while running an errand, Nancy spots him and goes all “he’s my brother” in front of a crowd and Twist ends up back with Fagin.
Nancy feels like shit and decides to track down Brownlow to tell him where Oliver is. Uh Oh. Sykes finds out and murders Nancy! Bad move for Sykes and everyone else except Oliver.
Long story shortened. Sykes grabs Oliver and makes a run. Fagin tries to hide but the crowds all know the dirty deeds that have been done. Sykes accidentally hangs himself and Oliver Twist is reunited with Brownlow.
And—in true Dickens fashion, it turns out that Brownlow is really Oliver’s grandfather! This can only happen in the world of Charles Dickens!
The movie ends with Oliver and Brownlow and Brownlow’s maid walking toward the Brownlow mansion in the sunshine!
There is always a ray of optimism peeking out of the darkness of Dickens. That’s why I love the books and the movies. There are interesting characters with fantastic names. It’s just pure entertainment.
And that is how I spent my day yesterday and I am not ashamed! And I just wanted to share my laziness with you!
Just in case you may not be familiar with Anthony Newley, here’s a clip from the old TV show “Hollywood Palace”. He’s singing “What Kind of Fool Am I?”. Its awesome greatness because he is soooooooooooooooooooooooo dramatic when he sings! Enjoy! XOXOXOXO
