Because it really is personal…

#3 took great offense at the “Unwashed Heathen” remark in the Chicken~ post.

“WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?? I’M NOT UNWASHED!! I TAKE A SHOWER EVERY MORNING!”

“so then, you ARE a heathen? All that church and you’re still a heathen?”
I had him there.

“WHAT? NO! MOM! UH!”

So I explained the concept of ‘figure of speech’ and how, compared to me, he IS an unwashed heathen.

He was not mollified.

So I asked if he’d prefer to be called a ‘calamitous Philistine’?

“a what?” he asked.

“so, would you rather be called something you know, or something you don’t.” I asked.

“well…UH…Mom…” he grumbled.

http://www.retro-housewife.com/blog/blogger.html

Sweet Daddio took the day off today, and we went Christmas Shopping in Savannah! Woohoo!

I got all sorts of goodies to stuff in stockings, candies and nuts and such. I bought a box of gourmet chocolates for my best friend, who loves chocolate but won’t ever buy anything more exotic than a Hersheys bar.

I went to Michaels and bought rolls and rolls of silver ribbon, heaps of votive candles,candle holders, a huge bundle of silver and blue fake berries-on-a-wire, but none of those little plastic fake lights that go in the tacky ceramic Christmas tree that was so popular in the ’70′s when SD’s Aunt Mary Jo was deep into ceramics. I must go online and find those things. Our ceramic tree is riddled with holes.

SD went into Bass Pro Shops to price weapons of mass destruction, and I bought my niece a pretty silver necklace.

We went to Panera for refreshment, and shared a cinnamon bun the size of a small Eurpoean automobile. Lunch was Olive Garden. Supper will also be Olive Garden, as the portions are intended for people bigger than us. The leftovers are in the fridge, and labeled with threats of violence and mayhem upon the person who eats it, if that person isn’t me.

I learned that walking with a cane significantly reduces the level of pain in my hip, when I have to walk distances on hard surfaces, like at a mall. This is both heartening and distressing. Heartening, because now I know what to do to keep from spending 3 days in misery, after a day of heavy duty trotting. DIstressing, well, because I have to rely on a cane. I mean, it’s happened before, during serious weather changes and all (hurricanes are murder), but…imagine that you’ve gone all your life seeing just fine, and you discover you have to wear glasses. Not contcts, glasses. It changes the way you see yourself.

Fortunately, I have a cool and stylin’ cane my father in law made for me. Hard maple and walnut, fit just to me, with a ball on top to grab onto. Much nicer than those metal things with the hole adjustment mess.

And that’s today.

Next time I announce that I’m roasting a chicken for supper, remind me to go ahead and roast 5 of them. Or maybe 10.

Apparently the Unwashed Heathen have decided that the crisp, salty skin of a roast chicken is Best.

We had mayhem and anarchy at the Toot household tonight, as all 5 members (including me, I am ashamed to confess) fought viciously over every crisp morsel of skin.

Then we discussed the merits of various modes of preparation. One prefered lemon pepper. Another favors McCormicks Rotisserie Seasoning blend. Each had their own mouthwatering choice. All agreed that olive oil was superior to all other oils for greasing the bird.

Sweet Daddio’s Uncle O’Flynn served for many years on The Chicken Board, a select committee of distinguished businessmen who decide the future of the Chicken Industry. He was one of the people who brought Buffalo Wings out of a bar in Buffalo, NY and into the world at large. SD opined that we should contact Uncle O’Flynn and suggest that chicken skin be marketed, all one needs to do it brush on some oil, sprinkle with the seasoning of your choice, and cook at a high heat until crispy and fabulous. I think we could be on to something!

OO I just got mah hair cut! Love it! It had grown to my shoulders, shaggy and I wore it back in barrettes and up in a barracuda clip in the back. Unattractive, to say the least, but practical. Anyway, it looks more like my hair in the avatar, a short bob with bangs in front and layers in back. #3 said “Mom, it looks pimp!” Apparently that’s a good thing.

I woke up this morning, and my head reached critical mass. If I couldn’t get an appointment today I was going to cut it MAHSELF. I said that to the phone answerer at Serenity, and she said “Oh mah! No! Cain’t have that! Nathan has an opening at 4! Can you make it that long??”
“Yes,” I replied, “with medication and activity, I can make it ’til 4.”
Nathan is a soft spoken tall drink of water, transplanted here from Wisconsin, who gave me a scalp massage with lavendar smelling stuff, and took his time cutting my hair, getting it just right. I am Most Pleased. He was also half the price of Karen, who normally cuts my hair but didn’t have an opening until Tuesday. If he colors as good as he cuts, I’m going to put for highlights for Christmas.

My thinking is this…with a great cut, and fabulous color, everyone will be so busy admiring my head they won’t notice my thighs.

Christmas marches toward us with a soft, insidious shuffle, to the sound of Dean Martin’s boozy rendition of Jingle Bells and the relentless parade of BoxMan trucks. We get daily visits from assorted BoxMen, leaving packages and requiring signatures. They’re still wearing shorts around here. Heck, my KIDS are still wearing shorts.

We took #4 out the other night to find him a new jacket, as his old one’s sleeves were about 3 inches short. He picked out this huge down filled puffy one, rated at
-20 degrees. Yeah. We have maybe 3 days of heavy frost a year, and those never come in a row. “How about this one?” I asked, holding up a navy blue fleece thing with a hood. “I want this one” he said, pointing to the thing that makes him look like Bibendum (2 points to the person who knows who Bibendum is). “No,” I said, “you can have either this dark blue on or this red one.” So he agreed to the blue one, commenting on how soft it was when he put it on. The Sweet Daddio noticed it was half price so we got him the red one as well. He has been wearing them, because they’re new, not because it’s cold, because it isn’t.

I got all my Christmas shopping, well…not all, most of it, done yesterday, whilst wearing fuzzy slippers and sipping coffee. MAN! I love the internet! This is a small town, with limited resources, and if I want a cashmere and silk shawl for my friend, I’d have to go to Savannah and pay $200 for one. Which I’m not going to do. BUT! Thanks to Ebay, I got one for her and each of her daughters for $20 a peice!

After the morning’s housewifely duties (scrubbing bathrooms. laundry. poopscoop duty)
I made Christmas collars for the weinerdogs. Photos for the season will be up at WeinerdogBliss sometimes today. I say, they look right spiffy.

Have a nice day.

We put our Christmas tree up yesterday. This is the earliest we’ve ever done it, but everyone was chomping at the bit.

*whine alert*
Everyone loves decorating it, but after Christmas, and it’s time to take it all down, it’s *poof*, they’re gone and I’m left to do the deed. *grump*
*/whine*

Now that’s out of the way.

Anyway, I am of the “Charlie Brown” school of tree picking. I like scrawny trees with big gaps, because we have lots of long and large ornaments that require plenty of dangling room, and a lovely full bushy tree would look funny, as the decorations would just sort of lay on the top on the branches. We let #4 (he’s 7) pick out the tree, and he found the PERFECT one, lots of gaps and branches of odd lengths sticking out. Our odd and non-round ornaments look perfect on it!

I did a different thing with the lights as well. We bought a couple of strings of C7 lights (those big bulbed colored ones) and lots and lots of the tiny white ones. I strung the big colored ones throughout, 50 of them,spaced kind of far apart and on the ends of the branches, and wound the white lights all through the tree- 500 of them. It’s pretty! I can’t take credit, there was a prelit fake tree at Lowes that was done that way and #4 spotted it and approved.

I guess today I’ll get all that auxillary stuff you. You know, the bits that go on top of the piano or on the sideboard shelf. I am thinking about discussing the possibility of a fireplace mantle. There was one here when we moved in but it was about6 inches thick and a foot wide and made of pine with an ugly dark brown stain, so I had the resident doer-of-things remove it tut suite. A new one, thinner and more narrow, perhaps out of oak stained to match the dning table and sideboard, just enough to put tchokes on and grumble about dusting, is in order.

I suppose, I guess, maybe I’m getting sort of into Christmas Cheer mood. I’ve figured out what to get everyone except my brother and his family. We aren’t close, so I truly don’t know what they’d like. My nephew is 13, so money is in order. My neice is 9, getting too old for those Barbies she’s been collecting since she was 3, probably outgrowing her American Girl dolls, and taking drum lessons from (whatshisname) the drummer for the band Alabama. My sister in law has many musical connections. So yeah, my neice is taking lessons from A Name (that I can’t remember). Apparently she’s really good, too. Hm. Maybe a gift certificate to the local music supply store, for drumsticks and whatever.

Maybe I need to make a batch of hot buttered rum and some shortbread cookies. That would cheer me up. Not to mention make me fat. but who cares about that. I am SO over being fixated on my (fat) body image (which is fat). Give me a strong enough foundational garment and I’ll look less like Roseanne Barr and more like Lillie Langtry. Curvy, solid, clad in iron stays, but definitely curvy rather than lumpy.

And that reminds me, do you know what I think is GROSSLY unfair? I mean, this is Unfair so bad I ought to write my congressman and fuss at God for this. It’s how a man of, shall we say, generous proportions, can suck his gut up into his chest and look like a power-lifter from an 1890′s circus. That’s right, gut into chest and shoulders and he has this Manly Form. And yet, try as I might, and can no more suck my ass into my boobs than I can tapdance to “Flight of the Bumblebees”. Here is he, a Man, who by his very nature thinks he’s a fine studly fellow (and he is, mind you, but no one had to tell him that), with this chameleon ability to change his phyz at will, yet he doesn’t feel the desire to, because he’s already a fine studly fellow. And then there’s women, who are inherently dissatisfied with their form, even the ones who already look perfect, and more so for those of us who are constantly bombarded with images reinforcing our insecurities, we can no more shapeshift than that stack of books on the desk next to me. See, I’ll show you.

“BOOKS! BECOME SHOES!” nope, nothing. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s unfair.

Curse Blogger’s hide to darkest perdition! All I did was change my header, like I do all the time, and suddenly font size goes from a comfortable 14 to a ridiculous 196 without me doing one single thing differently! This has happened before, (I curse their shoes with stench) for no apparent reason. They are fiends, ridiculous people with large misshapen heads and bad attitudes that speak of an inherent sense of sadism and a lack of empathy for those of us with less computorial skill. I think they do it on purpose to make me feel bad. Well, one day they’re gonna need someone like me, to fix them soup when they’re sick or maybe even feed them when they break both their arms falling off their Segway. And you know what? I’m gonna do it, with cheer and comfortable familiarty, and they are going to feel BAD about it! I am going to so totally not treat them the way they are treating me that they will cringe with shame. A pox on them! Phooey!

Ok it’s 2 days later and I just realized I am the only person in Bloglandia who didn’t post an “I’m THankful For” kind of post, so here goes.

1.squishy soled shoes, for without them I couldn’t walk.

2.Those huge bottles of wine (not the Gallo jugs, the whatever they’re called…starts with a B…big ones)

3.The day after Thanksgiving.

4.Mashed potatoes. Yum.

5.James Bond Marathon on Spike tv

6.Friday after Thanksgiving Sales that start really early.

7.People who don’t make fun of me even thought I’m a throwback to the 1930′s

8.People who make me think (That whole feminist crowd, you know who you are)

9.The written word

10.And most important: My family: my husband who’s been my very best friend these last 21 years, my kids who keep life interesting at all times, and everyone else, who I know I can rely on in a pinch if I need to.

Indeed, we are heaving a big sigh, drinking coffee, and readying ourselfs psychologically for Christmas. SD and I went out earlyish to try and beat the crowds (ha!) and do a little getting ready. Lowes was having a deal on poinsettias (I wanted some to put in the fireplace) and those little bitty lights (99 cents for 100! Max of 10 boxes!), and while I was picking out some pretty balls and he was getitng some stuff he needed, he came up and said “let’s get you a little tree to put upstairs, you can decorate it any way you want”

*blink* ok.

This is why I married him, He does stuff like this. So we get a short tree already wired with lights, and went to Big Lots for decorations. Shiny silver, frosty silver, steely blue frosty, and pewter colored with silver sparkly designs. Steel blue ribbon, silver bead garland, and a silver mirror covered star to go on top. Care to guess how much all that came to? $25. Total (not counting the tree.) Now I get to have my own perty tree and STILL have the big nice smelling one in the living room with colored lights and 20 years worth of collected ornaments.

He and #2 crawled up in the attic and got down Christmas decorations. Every year, they get down the same one, and every year, simpleminded person that I am, I am surprised by what we have. It’s all “oh! I totally forgot about that!” and “Where did this come from?”. This year he handed down this huge bag of rolls of fancy ribbon- you know, the wired stuff like you use on wreaths-and I’m going “um…” Some of it’s pretty nice, so I may make Christmas collars for the doggies, just pull out the wire so they don’t poke each others eyes out.

I guess I need to go around the house and put stuff up to make room for Christmas decorations. I have 40+ Santa mugs (I get a new one every year. Corny, I know, but some grandchild 50 years from now will want them), a whole slew of nativities, and garlandy stuff to run up the stair rail. The best part if getting the tree because for a month the whole house will smell wonderful.

Thanksgiving dinner went well. Everyone liked the food, the conversation was incredible (El, my Ethiopian friend, is very opinionated and thinks Americans totally take their heritage for granted.) They got along famously with my parents, even tho she asked questions and didnt like the answers, she’s mature enough to not take such things personally. She brought her gorgeous and very sophisitcated little sister along, which seemed to discombobulate #1 a bit. She and I talked at length about how she manages being neither white nor black, and gets along with both. She’s a smart cookie, she said she hung out with both for a while, and figured out the languages, and now she can be whatever she needs to be.

We ate until we all had to be trocharized. My mom brought 2 pumpkin pies which were actually pretty good. Clearly she is getting over her sugar phobia. She even brought a can of Reddi-Whip, which the boys promptly sprayed into their mouths and used it all up…in an in-advised attempt to impress Red (El’s sis). She is masterful at ignoring things which need to be ignored.

The food turned out well, and there was plenty of it. It had been a very long time since I’d cooked a big feast like that, and done all of it. I enjoyed the heck out of doing it, too, particularly since the menfolk did the cleanup.

So, if Thanksgiving is a portent for how Christmas will be, then I think it’s going to be fine. As long as we keep well stocked on alcoholic libations.