the pieces of my life

Speaking of holiday projects, I make these ornament gift tags for my non-Jewish friends; I’m trying to think what I could do with them so I could give them to Jewish friends. Someone suggested putting a magnet on them, but I’m not sure that would work well. Any ideas? I can’t show you the cutest one, because it’s for someone who might read this blog (I really have no idea who reads this blog anymore, but better safe than sorry).

Our weekend of butter winds down as we prepare for a week of oil.

Dust covers the floor of the basement exercise room. A set of tools is in the middle of the upstairs bathroom. A flashlight is lying on the bedroom floor. A random set of shelves is in the hallway. Lumber is scattered everywhere. Storm doors are leaning against the exercise equipment. Doodles is randomly running from room to room carrying odd tools. Yes, that’s right. Adam’s gone handy on us. He’s decided to not only tackle the to-do list, but to expand on it. And the best thing one can do at this time is just stand out of the way. So far both the bathroom sinks no longer leak. The storm doors have been painted, as has the upstairs linen closet door. A new workbench is sitting in the utility closet. He’s currently off to the hardware store for more provisions.

And me? I’m just compounding the mess, with boxes of Hanukkah decorations waiting to be put up. Piles of presents that need to be wrapped. Half-done craft projects litter the house, waiting to be finished (oh, sewing machine! How much longer till you return from the great repair shop in Somerville?) Basically, our house is a minefield of ribbons, needles, and nails. Enter at your own risk.

I’m sorry that Thanksgiving weekend is coming to an end. It’s my favorite weekend of the year. Don’t get me wrong–I’m an absolute sucker for the Hanukkah/Christmas/New Year’s season. I’m starting to work on the holiday cards. I’m figuring out fun craft projects for the kids to do at our Hanukkah party. I’m planning menus. Spending too much money. Getting out my Martha.

But there’s something about the coziness of Thanksgiving weekend–just hanging out, watching too much TV, reading books (we made an emergency run to Barnes & Noble yesterday for its last copy of Pippi on Board; we finished the first Pippi and Doodles couldn’t wait to start the next one), playing games. Nice and mellow. We had friends over for brunch on Friday morning. Friday night was a lovely Shabbat at Jasmine’s house. Saturday was hockey, the B&N; run, and then an evening watching Up (which I loved! It was a little intense for the kids, but Doodles managed nicely and seemed to like it; too many late nights for Pie had her asleep about 2/3 of the way through it). Today has been the getting things done day. I love the feel of this long weekend. I love the food, the parade on TV, the chill in the air. I love an excuse to make hot chocolate and popcorn. But alas, it’s just about over. Now I’ll put up those Hanukkah decorations and move on to holiday projects.

And I’ll console myself that Thanksgiving will be back again next year. I already can’t wait!

Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. I love turkey and pumpkins and cranberry sauce. I love having a holiday that I celebrate the same as everyone else. I love the holiday cheer and the start of the full-fledged holiday season. I love the parade and the fall weather. I love Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving also brings out the difference in my kids. Pie was so excited about her preschool’s Thanksgiving feast. She insisted on wearing her summery party dress. I volunteered to come in to help out, and she said to me as we were leaving, “Maybe you should put on some lipstick.” For what it’s worth, I didn’t. She loved the feast–the stone soup, the pumpkin bread, the apple crisp. Pie made a card at school for us. It read, “I’m thankful for Momma, Daddy, Doodles, and me!”

Doodles did not want to go to school. Not today nor yesterday. In fact he got downright upset about it. I couldn’t figure it out. His class was doing a little “reader’s theater” and he’d been practicing his lines for two weeks now (“I am a Native American bold. About me, many tales are told. I taught the pilgrims to plant and fish. Our three-day meal was delish!”). Turns out, he was completely stressed out by the idea of cranberries. The first graders were going to be making cranberry relish and doing activities with cranberries, and he despises cranberries. Not that he’s ever had one. But he throws up at the smell of blueberries and strawberries, so I was willing to back him up on this. So I spoke to his teacher and he was excused from all fruit activities. And he was happy. Doodles also did a worksheet on which he had to draw pictures of what he was thankful for. Can you guess? I didn’t think so. “My toys. My circuit boards. My inventions.”

My cooking for the night is done. My in-laws are at friends in Nantucket, my brother-in-law and his wife are in Belize, my parents are in Miami for Art Basel, so it’s a small affair. We have friends coming over and my sister is here, so it’s a mere party of ten, which is just perfect. Although I keep trying to add more dishes to the menu, only to be reminded that we don’t need more food on the menu.

Desserts are made. My pumpkin cake is cooling. Pumpkin made with fresh pumpkin, mind you. None of this canned stuff for us. My pilgrim hats are chilling in the fridge. (When I explained to my sister what I was making, she said, “Wow, when you decided to not be Mom, you really took it to an extreme.”)

Tweedle Twirp made the apple pie.

This year we decided to brine the turkey. I don’t eat much meat, so I definitely have a little guilt over the turkey. It looks so… turkey-ish. I told the turkey it was at the turkey spa, getting a special herbal bath.

We then put the turkey in an isolation chamber for a soothing night of introspection. It’s also the only place in the house with the proper temperature for a turkey in a ziplock in a cooler: The old entrance to the basement, unheated, cold, and just right. Originally I said to just leave it out on the side steps, but that was quickly nixed when Adam told me that my little cooler wouldn’t keep out the neighborhood raccoons and coyote.

What else have we done? I’ve spiced the pecans for the salad. The bread is on the counter drying out for stuffing. I made the crescent dough. The once-a-year crescent rolls that are made of butter. And a touch of flour. But really, butter. Mmmm, butter. Apple cider is in the fridge. I have all the stuff for kids’ appetizers and grown-up appetizers. Tomorrow I make the thyme rolls, the sweet potatoes with marshmallow topping, the stuffing. Toss together the salad. Obviously I need to roast the turkey and prepare the gravy. Our friends are bringing the cranberry sauce and the green beans. A complete meal! Of which Pie will eat the potatoes and Doodles will eat the turkey.

In the morning I hope to make muffins with more of my fresh pumpkin puree, but I do have a Turkey Trot to run, so I’m not sure I’ll have the time. Ah, Thanksgiving. Have I mentioned I love Thanksgiving?

After dance class last Thursday:
Me: Doodles, as soon as we get home, you need to do your homework.
Doodles: Mom, do you know what I hear you say? [Puts up one hand and makes a quacking motion]. “Doodles. Blah, blah, blah, homework. Blah, blah, blah, homework. Blah, blah, blah, homework.” [Puts up other hand and makes same talking motion] “Mom, can we stop talking about homework?” [Back to other hand] “Blah blah blah homework.”

In the car, the kids were comparing notes:
Doodles: Do you know what Dad says all the time?
Me: No, what?
Doodles: Cheeses crises! [Say it outloud and you’ll understand it]
Me, laughing: Yes, he does.
Pie: And dammit!

I have this freakin’ cold that just will not die. I ran yesterday for the first time in a week and a half–a week and a half!!–and the run itself felt fabulous but the hour-long coughing fit that followed it was not so much. Luckily all major training for the time being is over. I have my yearly Thanksgiving race this Thursday, which I’m very much looking forward to, cough or no cough, but I have no other real races planned (4 miles, of course, not counting as a “real” race). I’ve committed to doing one of those 24-hour relay races, but it’s not till May. I figure for the next month, I can do bare minimum training (meaning about 15 miles a week) and then get back into the swing of things in December in Miami. Then, when I get back home, the light will start to return to the morning and I can give more of a push then. I’d like to do at least one marathon next year–a friend promised to do Chicago with me, and then there’s a spring marathon in New York that I’m considering. We’ll see how it all goes. Depends on how fast I can outrun this cold. (Ha ha ha ha! Okay, this is why I don’t do puns.)

Ah. I’d like to say that with the help of Dayquil, sugar, and a few well-placed threats, we made it successfully through our NYC trip. But we still have the return trip and Pie is nearing the end of her happy-trip attitude. With all the “surprises” over, she’s d-u-n-n (which is our family’s version of the word, a la “r-u-n-n o-f-t”). Tonight she got a little sad, missing her big brother. She insisted on calling him, and then after talking realized she forgot to tell him she’d see him tomorrow, so she demanded I give her the phone back to tell him. Meanwhile, Doodles is showing his innate guyness–when I said to him, “I miss you!” he simply responded, “Me too.”

My cold is somewhat fierce (and, yes, it’s still a cold. I have a lovely–but productive!–hack), but it’s well medicated, so I’m good. As you’ve seen, we’ve had a most lovely and busy day. Pie was so happy with the Plaza that she overcame her disappoint that Eloise wasn’t there. Although as she left, she asked if we could come back later in the day to see if Eloise was back, but I pointed out we’d be a little busy to come all the way back.

My mom’s show (will I ever remember? Exhibit!) at the Nohra Haime Gallery (in the Fuller building on 57th street–visit it if you’re in the area!) was the second stop, and Pie was fascinated by Nana’s latest work, which is intriguing.

But, oh, the light in her eyes when we showed up at Dashing Divas. She took right to her mani/pedi. And then the excitement at the cupcake store. So many cupcakes! How to choose! But nothing, nothing! compared with the thrill of Pinkalicious. There was actual squealing involved. And she sat, rapt, the entire time, mouth slightly agape, moving only to see around the woman in front of us (I let her sit on my lap for a better view). The musical was cute–and quite tolerable at just an hour long. I’ve never seen so many ecstatic little girls in one place: Bleeker Street, the preschool version. That was a first for me. Pie waited patiently at the end for an autograph and to have her picture taken with Pinkalicious afterward. Definitely worth harassing the ticket guy to get Pie in.

Lunch was good, but Pie was definitely fading. I was glad we made it to Benny’s–one of my favorite places from my East Village days. I ordered the same thing I’ve ordered all these years–a quesadilla grande. I don’t think I’ll ever venture to anything else.

Our only downer–other than the occasional “I can’t walk anymore!”–was when we finally trekked to the F train (in the rain!), we waited and waited. An announcement would come on, and I’d ask around, “What did he say? Did you understand that?” The crowd grew and grew and the announcement played and played “Garble garble…Broadway/Lafeyette…garble garble…J Street… garble garble.” Finally I found someone who understood it. “Train’s not running here. Walk to the next stop and take the D train.” So we trekked over to the next stop. I did look for a cab, but on a rainy day, no surprise that not a cab was to be found.

So after that slow shuffle to the next subway station, Pie’s collapse was no surprise. The walking for the entire day was fairly substantial. From the apartment to the subway to the Plaza, from the Plaza to the gallery, from the gallery to the subway at 60th St., from the subway on Broadway to 8th and University to Bleeker and Lafeyette to Avenue A and 6th Street to Houston and First to Broadway and Lafeyette to… well, that’s when she fell asleep. Sitting on the subway. She had a seat and I was standing in front of her and all of a sudden, her little head leaned forward into my legs. I asked the person next to her, “Is she really asleep?” She looked down and said, “Yep!”

Of course, this was the day I decided to wear nicer shoes, so in my heels, I picked Pie up on the moving subway, made my way to the doors, and then carried 40 pounds of dead weight back to the apartment. She woke up and that’s when she started pining for her big brother.

And me? My Nyquil has started to take effect. So I’m off to bed. The ride home will be nightmarish, but at sometime tomorrow, Pie will be reunited with her Doodles, and all will be right in the world again.

Can't miss the quesadilla grande at Benny's Burritos.

…Pinkalicious, The Musical!

Nothing controversial about this stop! A trip to Crumbs, for a cupcake
extraordinaire. She ordered the Reeses cupcake. Too bad she didn't
order a pink cupcake because our next stop is…