Pinky Promise

We need a little levity around here, what with the drama I've been writing about in my last several posts. Just to show you another side of life in the Granola household, here's a scene from yesterday afternoon, when Curious Girl was having a skating party indoors with all her (imaginary) loved friends. (In case you're wondering how to make an indoor icerink, here's how: scatter paper all over the floor, take off your slippers, and slide around, saying "Mama! I'm skating!").

Curious Girl: You can be the girl police officer who takes care of the party. And you're my cousin. But pretend you didn't know it was my skating party and I didn't know you were coming.

Me: OK. (pause) Hey, cousin, is that you?!?

CG: Cousin!!!! You're here for my party.

Me: Hey, kids! No pushing on the ice. Good job, babies!! Look, CG, aren't the babies doing a good job?

CG, beaming: Yes! I teached them how to skate.

CG skates around, then returns to me. "Pretend you're going to live with me in my house for the whole rest of the year, but I don't know that."

Me: You know, there's not much left of the rest of the year. When we wake up tomorrow, it'll be a whole new year. Now, it's 2007, but tomorrow, it will be 2008.

CG: No way! Tell me the truth.

Me: Really. Right now it's December. I can show you on your calendar. Tomorrow starts January, and it's a whole new year then.

CG: No it is not. I don't believe you. For real? Tell me the truth.

Me, trying not to laugh: Really, truly, for real life. It's going to be 2008 tomorrow. It's the last day of 2007.

CG: But tell me the truth. Pinky promise? (extending pinky) For real, pinky promise?

Me: Pinky promise it is really going to be a new year tomorrow.

CG: I don't believe you.

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This morning, when CG wakes up, having slept in a little after the late night she had at a new year's party with our friends, I tell her "Happy new year."

CG: I didn't believe you yesterday. But today I do.

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Some cool new year's posts are up at Magpie's, Rhymes with Javelin, Profgrrl's (the post before that is a good New Year's meme which I may do later in the week), and Geeky Mom's.

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So however unbelieveable it is that a new year has arrived, may it bring you and yours bountiful hope, joys, and community.

Season's Greetings

We've arrived at part one of our trip, and had an amazing dinner with Graduate School Friends (one of whom grew up in South Texas, hence the menu), and opened a bottle of wine Politica and I had brought back from South Australia six years ago. It aged well, and GSFs were the perfect people to share it with. Politica's dad joined us for dinner (although he ate swedish meatballs rather than tamales), and CG collected clothing from GSFs' daughter, including a fancy blue dressup dress. I love the comfort of old friendships, and I love watching our kids play together. When CG was falling asleep, she rolled over and said, "I wasn't even shy at the beginning tonight. Because, I thought, I remember this place." I'm so glad we have good friends living near here--it makes our visits to Politica's dad feel much more homey than they might otherwise.

So life is good. (Although Politica, who just returned from her father's, where she was wrapping gifts, observes that Christmas is easier when you're a kid.) I finished CG's stocking, and it's by the fireplace in our hotel room in all its pink, purple, yellow, and rose glory. What's in it? A Miss Piggy journal, some glittery kid makeup, some lotion from my last hotel stay in a really cool shaped bottle, a clementine. I hope she likes it.

Merry Christmas to those of you celebrating tomorrow.

Holidays for the Inner Child

So I've been back in touch with my inner child lately, which is to say I'm spending too much time feeling too sensitive about things that really shouldn't be that big a deal. I realize that there are far bigger actual problems in the world, and I have the emotional wherewithal to rise about all this. But still. It's not always so easy.

I wrote a bit about our Thanksgiving. I realized, later, that part of my problem that weekend was that I was doing some very particular things that I wanted my parents' approval and endorsement for, and they weren't giving it. Last winter, when my parents were moving out of their New York apartment, I took a box of old family photos and offered to put them into an album, telling my mother it would be a kind of album like I made from our adoption travels (a scrapbook format, with things pasted to the page, all archival-quality materials). I never got around to making the album, and last spring when we went to Florida, I took the photos, and my mom and I organized them by topics and family groups, and she identified people for me. I still didn't have time to do the album, but I thought over Thanksgiving, we'd have time to sit together and put the pages together, and I planned to give Mom some journalling boxes so she could write captions for the photos. It wouldn't be fancy, but it would get everything in a book.

When we sat down to do the album, though, my Dad walked over and said, "but what if you wnat to take the pictures out? Or give some to Other Daughter?" So they decided no, they didn't want the album. Which is fine, but it also means they weren't listening when I had offered to make the album, and it also means I had acquired a bunch of album supplies I didn't need. And my inner child heard all this as "You don't matter." Which I realize is all the product of my inner child's insecurity schtick which my inner child has processed in therapy and I thought had gotten over. But apparently not.

So I went to a photo store and got drop-in archival photo sleeves and a binder to put them in, and we put the photos in pages, with some paper for writing captions, and Mom was happy. Then she wanted to pay me for the materials. Which my inner child also perceived as a huge slight, because I had wanted the picture-organizing to be a gift for them. I tried to say, no, no, it's a gift, but they insisted.

In the meantime, my mother was trying to tell me six ways from Sunday how much she enjoyed all the food I had cooked over the weekend--which is really a pretty big deal as my parents are not vegetarians, and are pretty suspicious of vegetarian cooking. All those compliments didn't really make a big impression, because my inner child was moaning so much about the failure of the photo project.

So really, my mother and I were talking at cross purposes: I am sure that she meant her food compliments to convey her appreciation for all we did to organize the Thanksgiving weekend. I am also sure she has no idea what the photo-organizing project meant to me. And I don't know why I can't, having come to this analysis, just take in the compliments for what she intended and leave the photos behind.

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I have been on the phone with my sister several times today. We're going to her house the day after Christmas, for the Granola family Christmas celebration. Curious Girl, who in years past has been pretty darn terrified of Santa, has this year started to explore a little bit of Santa enthusiasm (she is scared of real Santas dressed up but has been having hysterical conversations with rooftop Santas we've seen around the neighborhood). We've always been rather reserved about the Santa mythology (a topic Dani has had some interesting thoughts about lately), in part because neither Politica nor I are really comfortable with actively building up a story I know to be false (most of our pretend games are driven by CG's imagination, but the Santa story is one we would need to feed to her), in part because we're not celebrating Christmas as a religious holiday even though we do love our Norsk Jul with Politica's father and my family-of-origin celebrates Christmas religiously; in part because we are always on the road. We are the People who Travel to the rest of the family.

But, Santa brings presents for my nieces , and last year, when we were there on Christmas morning, we had a Santa present for CG, too. (I think the year before, I hadn't thought about this at all, and my sister had a spare Santa present for CG. So last year, we organized for Santa, and this year, we had planned to ship a present to my sister's for CG). All fine. Except that UPS isn't cooperating. Our gifts for Politica's dad have arrived, but not our package to my sister's.

So why not just have Santa arrive at Politica's father's, you may be wondering? Well, because CG, in her Santa narratives this year, has been saying to anyone and everyone, "Santa is coming to my cousin's house." And we've just been nodding in agreement. It was a lovely narrative--we got to hitch onto my sister's family's rather extensive Santa mythology without having to do much ourselves to support it. But UPS isn't going to arrive until 12/27, we discovered today. So I suggested that Santa could leave a note saying he'd swing back around on the 27th for CG (we can reallocate some gifts and have a present that was going to be from Politica's dad come from Santa instead, so we'll have it with us when we arrive.) No, my sister says, that won't fit with where her kids think Santa will be on the 27th (at the North Pole). Just have Santa come at Politica's dad's, she says.

Politica and I confer. We like sticking to the CG-generated narrative about Santa coming to the cousins. So I call back. We'll have Santa deliver the present at my parents' house, which is where we'll actually be staying. No, that won't do, because my sister and her kids will be over at my parents' before we arrive, and they will know there is no Santa gift there. So that won't do. Just have Santa come at Politica's dad's, she says again.

My sister also says, "you sound upset at me," and I lie and say I'm not. She presses me, and I continue to lie. This is my deal with my family--I do not like to show my emotions in front of them because I am afraid that they will ignore them. And my sister's continuous suggestions about how we can manage Santa anywhere but near her house are certainly feeding that fear. I had called her a few weeks ago, actually, to talk about Christmas stockings. I'm knitting one for CG now. She's never had one, although my nieces, sister, and brother-in-law all have stockings I knit for them. Last year, CG was in tears on Christmas day because her cousins had a couple of little matching items--hairbows, I think--that had come in their stockings, and she wanted one, too. She didn't really care about the stockings, she just wanted to match her cousins. So I asked my sister if she could pick up three of anything she was getting two of for her girls. I wasn't asking her to fill the stocking, just enable a little matching, I told her. She was surprised. "I thought you'd do the stockings at Politica's dad's," she said. Politica points out now that this was a big hint that she didn't really want our Christmas stuff at her house. We had an awkward conversation that night, and I called her the next day to say not to worry, we'd do the stocking on our own time.

At the moment, Politica and I are both livid. I guess we'll have Santa's gift arrive on Christmas morning, which has the advantage of giving us one more thing to do with Politica's dad in the assisted living facility that morning. There's not going to be a lot of hoopla--our traditional Norsk Jul isn't really possible given that we don't have a kitchen. We're going for Christmas Eve dinner to Graduate School Friends' house, which will be wonderful, joining them for their tradition, which is tamales. Christmas Day we'll be eating at the assisted living facility, and we won't really be able to make the traditional rice pudding (which Politica doesn't like, anyway). So having a stocking and a morning gift will make a little more hoopla, and that will be nice with Politica's dad.

But still, I'm livid. Yes, my sister says, if we had ordered the gift a week earlier it would have been there. Yes, if we had called my sister a week earlier she would have picked something up for us (although my efforts at early coordination didn't really pay off on the stocking). But when you are the People Who Travel, it is hard to craft holiday traditions, and I would think that the People Who Don't Travel would cut us a little slack and help manipulate the narratives to make our lives a little easier. Instead, my sister has all kinds of ideas about how we can change the story we've been telling Curious Girl so that she doesn't have to change a darn thing in her own narrative.

And this bugs me. I know I should be able to let it go. But it's not fading easily. And I wish my inner child weren't so up in arms about this. I've had enough therapy to see the patterns, to understand why all this happens. I don't understand why it's suddenly so hard to react in a more healthy fashion.

Bah, humbug.

But hugs to anyone who's reading my rant: my inner child is happy for supportive readers!

I Wore My Wedding Dress

We had the traditional lesbian vegetarian thanksgiving: mushroom-tofu-leek phyllo pastries, maple pumpkin pie, roasted vegetables, cranberry sauce with a raspberry/orange twist, and a wonderful salad made by Husband of Pseudonymless Friend. The children ran around the house and everyone was happy except for the shy cats. My parents (who are not vegetarians) are here, and Mom asked Politica "Where's the bird?" (we did cook a turkey two years ago for Thanksgiving, but it was a lot of work, I didn't eat it, and the house smelled of turkey for a whole day afterwards. Why do that when the phyllo pastries are so tasty?) But even the meat-loving grandparents were happy with the meal. It was good, and the table was beautiful.

At one point, my mother said to me, "That's a nice outfit you have on." I paused. "It was my wedding dress, " I told her. She doesn't know that because she didn't come to our wedding. She paused. "Cute outfit," she said, and turned away.

I have mostly let that go, that she didn't come to our wedding. Mostly.

I shouldn't dwell on that, when there are happier moments to savor:

• Curious Girl falling asleep on my shoulder, exhausted after a day of playing, giggling, and shrieking
• CG talking to the balloons in the Macy's T-Day Parade. I'm going to miss it when she finally figures out the line between reality and fantasy
• Working in the kitchen with Politica. We were in and out of the kitchen all day, and the food was good.
• Eating bread fresh out of the oven: I made sandwich bread for my parents, and when I offered to cut some for my mother her eyes just opened wide. "Don't you want to save it for the company?" You are the company!
• Watching Politica gradually relax over the course of the day.

Here's hoping all Thanksgiving-celebrating-readers had a good day.

Wishes for Sweetness

"It looks like a bagel," Curious Girl exclaimed this morning when I showed her how the challah had turned out while she was sleeping. She helped with the dough last night, but had missed the baking stages. A bagel, a challah. Rosh Hashanah, the first crisp days of fall, the beginning of Ramadan. There is much to enjoy this time of year.

We have friends coming over for dinner tonight. We're probably the only house preparing a Rosh Hashanah dinner with Debbie Friedman's Hanukah songs as the soundtrack: CG's newest game is dancing to Hanukkah songs (although she just switched the CD to a shabbat songs soundtrack and is twirling around to "Shabbat is Here"). It's all festive, even if not quite traditional. Whether it's a holiday or a weekday at your house, 5768 or 2007, may sweetness abound. A sweet new year to those beginning 5768, and a good fall for all of us.

Stood Up, Again, by That Boy

Enjoying as we are this good spring break while working full time, things have been, well, slow around here. And lately, slow and snow flurry-y! In April. And it's not like we live in New England, where I used to expect this sort of thing. Not quite the spring ambiance for seders.

But we've had fun at the seders this year. Curious Girl was quite excited about hunting for the afikomen (to be accurate, really, she was excited about the possible prizes for finding the afikomen, which in our house are really prizes for looking for the afikomen. With only two children in attendance, and given our preference for cooperative games anyway, it's prizes all around. this year, bubbles and books). She was also quite enthusiastic about making afikomen for everyone. As she and Young Guest did some coloring while we got the last few things ready for the meal, she colored afikomen for each of the grownups. "Don't look while I hide it," she'd say. "Then you can find it later." The making and the hiding were really all she needed to do--somehow, later one, none of us hunted for the colored afikomen, and I noticed one is still hiding in the bathroom. Note to self: finish cleaning up.

We used A Night of Questions for the seder, chosing seder 2, "Less is More," from their alternative TOC in the back. Last year, with these same friends, we'd read through the play, but this year, we skipped the play. Our friends were (rightly) concerned that the play was pretty much over the heads of our children (almost 5 and almost 3, respectively), and our friends were also wondering how their toddler was going to react to the story and the death of the first born (especially given that they had lost a baby in the second trimester just last month). So we opted for My Very Own Hagaddah's telling of the story for the Maggid part of the seder--something that made CG quite excited because there would be a time in the seder to switch to her very own book! such thrills. I hadn't actually read through MVOH in advance, just checked to see that it did, indeed, have the story in it. Turns out it doesn't even mention the death of the first born, and it credits Moses with the singing and dancing on the other side of the Red Sea. So let's just say it leaves a bit to be desired. We added in a bit, extemporaneously, and went back to Night of Questions. It's a good hagaddah, but flipping around in a big book doesn't always make for smooth transitions. Note to self: next year, copy the TOC for everyone to make finding places easier.

We used two CDs--the one that goes with Night of Questions and Andi Joseph's It's Seder Time!. CG really wanted to do the Miriam freeze dance on the latter CD, and I like the Mah Nishtanah version on her CD, sung by kids. We all sang it together, CG's medley notwithstanding, because CG is shy of performing and didn't really want to sing alone. "I'll sing in my head, Mama," she proposed, but she liked it when we all sang together. We played the CD for the opening song about the order of the seder, and for the groovy egalitarian blessing after the meal. Miriam's freeze dance is a cute little song, but way too long, as it turns out. CG liked the concept of dancing with timbrels more than the reality of percussion in the living room. But at the end of the seder, when I put on the next-year-in-Jerusalem song, she grabbed my hand. "Mama, come dance!" and so we danced, she and I, in the living room, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Note to self: next year, with the iPod and a seder playlist, to make switching songs easier.

CG was very interested in Elijah, which surprised me, since the amount of time we spend talking about Elijah is nil (although she does like to sing Elianu Hanavi a lot--they sang it for havdalah at her school all last year). We have an Elijah's cup that she made on the table, and she kept leaning over to ask me, "When is it going to be time to look for That Boy?" True, she can't spell very much yet and has lots to learn about print conventions, but I could tell she was speaking with capital letters about That Boy. "When is That Boy going to come? Is he going to come drink from his glass?" "I want to go look for him. I'm going to yell, ELIJAH! COME HERE!" When it was finally time to actually open the door for Elijah, she was quiet. But she stood at the door for a long time, sticking her head out, looking from side to side. I heard her whispher to Young Guest, "We're looking for Elijah." Young Guest nodded sagely.

We had asparagus guacamole on the table for munching, so no one got super hungry during the seder (which did go pretty quickly). We dipped lots of things in chocolate for dessert, which was fun. And I made, in advance, the dessert I thought was too complicated. Art-Sweet was right: those matzoh heath bars are yummy. I didn't even follow the recipe properly, and they still turned out yummy. I used a recipe mostly like this one, but I stirred the toffee mixutre for more than 3 minutes to get the butter and sugar to mix together, inadvertently put the chocolate chips on the toffee right away before baking (for 7 minutes, not 15), and broke the matzah up after it cooled. And sprinkled nuts on the warm chips. So I'd say it's a flexible recipe, hard to mess up, and really hard to resist.

We started the seder with a chametz hunt, mostly because Curious Girl had made a little chametz hunting kit at a chavurah a few weeks ago, and she wanted to use the little flashlight they gave her. So we didn't use the feather or spoons she had decorated, and no blessings were said, and it wasn't even a very comprehensive hunt (as mostly I don't cook the pasta this week, but I don't bother moving it anywhere). But it was fun, and the kids used the flashlights again to look for the afikomen. That was fun.

More later on seder 2. Here's wishing all my readers a weekend of good food and good company!

We're Having Matzah, Of Course

I bought a box of organic matzoh at Whole Paycheck today (Promised Land brand--they're not bad, actually) and Curious Girl wanted to eat them right away. Politica pointed out that next week, it'll be all matzoh all the time, and she might want to wait, but CG wanted matzah, and chocolate. So we had some matzah and nutella after dinner. As I was getting it out, I heard CG say to Politica, "I love my matzah!" to which I replied, "Well, then have I got the holiday for you!" "Passover?" she said. I nodded. "We're having matzah, of course!" she pointed out with glee.

The other night she was in the bath, and I heard her singing a little bit of "Ma Nishtanah" (the four questions about why Passover is different from other nights, usually sung by the youngest person who's able to sing it), which then morphed into "Under the Sea," (from The Little Mermaid) and then into "Down by the Bay," and back into some pseudo-Hebrew. "I want to sing those at our seder, Mama!" she called. Since it's the time of year when thoughts turn to seder rituals, I thought I'd toss the medley out there for anyone looking for something a little less traditional. Who knows, the water-themed Ma Nishtanah could become a family legend.

A few random thoughts to close: Matzah and nutella go well together, in case anyone wondered. I think we'll make our own chocolate-covered matzah next week. There are some rather complex recipes out there for that, but I'm going to try one that seems simpler. Simple is our byword, what with CG's spring break and our lack of spring break. Nothing could be simpler than boiling eggs, but last year (as we never eat hardboiled eggs), I ended up googling how to boil eggs, and went with Julia Child's recommendations, which I link to again as a public service for anyone like me who's a little fuzzy on the egg math.

So there are days left to plan the seder(s). We'd better get to it, if we don't want to let Curious Girl pick all the songs.

Sent to me by someone amazingly creatively thoughtful

Words, words, words.....my WHOYCE box was full of them. My gift-giver is a woman of amazing talent (and mystery....I still need to figure out who she is).

Curious Girl was just beside herself with glee when it was finally time to open the box. There were stickers on the outside. Two stickers. This was clearly a good sign for things to come. I opened the box, while CG snapped photos (she took 9 photos of me opening the box, a thrilling series which will, unaccountably, not end up on flickr). Finally, the top opened....to revealsome tissue paper! and some brown packing paper! which were cat toys! So we were off to a good start: the box and packing materials were fun. "Can I have some? Will you share?" CG kept asking. "It's all Mama's," Politica kept saying. "Nothing is yours until she says it is, and this box is for Mama." "

Well, not quite. The first thing that came out of the box was this:


"It's for me!" Curious Girl squealed. Really, no one is as excited about presents as a four-and-a-half year old. Greedy and grasping as she can sound, she is nonetheless utterly delightful, embodying pure joy where gifts are concerned. "Will you read it to me?" Then she spied the lollipops: maple. Yum. (There were three--one for each of us, I ruled. She ate hers quickly and said, "It has a good flavor, but I can't say what.")

The box wasn't all that big, but it was like one of those small cars filled with clowns at the circus (but more dignified): there were layers and layers and layers of things. Like this wonderful bag:

Which is made from the marriage ads in an Indian newspaper. I love Indian English: some common usages sound so formal to an American ear, things like "Alliance invited..." oror "suitable match." One ad reminded me of jo(e)'s pseduonyms: "well established sophisticated family....seeks beautiful smart educated girl." And the adjectives! wheatish, homely, convented, homely. I love this bag. Not only will it provide endless amusement on rainy days (there are tons of unfamiliar acronyms (MCA (ORC) 2.50 LPA req.?), it will be a wonderful teaching aid for my unit on World English. And I spent some time today imagining what became of the people behind these ads. Did the 6' handsome doctor ever find his 5'4"+ desired bride?

I had to put such speculation aside, though, as there were more things in the box, most individually wrapped in tissue of some sort. An edition of Franny and Zooey, with two beautiful bookmarks. Two little pads of recycled paper, one with a cover made from paint chip sample (why didn't we do that with any of the zillion samples we had home from the hardware store?); the notepads are inspired by Dadaist scissor poetry. How fun! A little blank book, for journalling. A box of cookies with amazingly friendly Asian characters. A little green tea, a little organic soap. Three fabulous mini notebooks for the new department chair: one says yesyesyesyesyes on the cover, one says maybemaybemaybe and one says nononononononononono. Sheet music: "You're a Sweet Little Headache" and Porgy and Bess. ("Headache" is my new parenting theme song: it perfectly captures the mood swings of a four year old!). Heritage hollyhock seeds. A chocolate bar. And lovely paper and envelopes: perfect for the scrapbooking self I aspire to be and for the writing self I actually am: I can use the paper to send letters, or I could use some in an album.

And as if that wasn't enough, a wrapped photo, titled "Marriage is love," with two women in wedding dresses walking off together. It's a gorgeous image.

Oh, and I've forgotten to mention the white shirt for Curious Girl, with ironed-on transfers on front, back, and each sleeve. "A new shirt!" She had to change immediately.

Here's what it looks like, all together:

All this from a Mystery Canadian blogger...I have a few guesses but I need to go check the archives to see if I'm right.

I am just so thrilled with this box: some things for Curious Girl, writing things for me, a little soap, tea, and chocolate to enjoy...and the beautiful songs, words, and images. This box will be making us very happy here for a long time to come.

The Voice of the Chocolate, Calling for a New Friend

It's present-opening day for the Winter Holiday of Your Choice Extravaganza, so here's my description of the box I created. I can't wait to see mine!

It was the chocolate the jumped out at me in Eryn's WHOYCE questionnaire: chocolate was what she didn't want to share, and calorie-free chocolate was what she wished the world would invent for her. And she liked earth tones, so chocolate brown was in my mind as I started looking around for the right gift..

At the beginning, it felt somehow unoriginal to get chocolate, yet that's where I felt led during my excursions. I'd read her questionnaire and some of her archives before going out, so I would her words in my mind as I was looking for the right things. Chocolate seemed obvious. I kept thinking that I should discern what my students call hidden meanings in the questionnaire, but the voice of the chocolate was compelling. I'd look at other things, but then, I'd see chocolate. And so chocolate I chose. One day, I found some nice Scharffen Berger bars. Another day, I found organic cocoa mix (which hit another point on the questionnaire). Then I wanted something smooth and soft and suede. When I saw the perfect yarn, a little earthy, a little modern, I knew what I wanted to do: a decorative scarf, just perfect for a Florida blogger. The scarf didn't show up well in photos--too close up and the flash would block the pattern, too far away, and the pattern wouldn't show. It's a ribbon yarn, knit in ribs to keep it lying flat (I experimented with a few patterns and that one worked the best). The scarf curled around itself as I was knitting, and I realized that Eryn could twist the scarf to make it more dimensional. I hope it stayed beautifully twisted in the box! It made a nice cocoon for the cocoa. I topped things off with a mug for the cocoa (also in earth tones).

I hope Eryn enjoys all this in her new house! What a treat it was to learn about Eryn on Pandorican. She and K. are wonderful! Very in tune with the seasons, very attached to the world. Pop over and get to know them yourselves.

New Year

Politica said that we were having the lamest New Year ever, but I suspect that what we did was pretty common among readers of this blog (apologies to any readers who are more the partying sort!). We hung out at home, watched a movie, went to bed. We had a sparkling grapefruit juice toast at dinner, but with Neighbor Girl and Woman of Many Talents at the table, things felt special. We had twelve bean soup, vegetable risotto, salad, and krumkaker for dessert (when I got my pressure cooker cookbook and saw the recipe for 12 bean soup, I thought "who has 12 kinds of beans in their house?!?" and then looked up at the shelf and realized I was that person. CG and I mixed up jars of bean mix and then she decorated them as holiday gifts for her teachers. We're big fans of 12 bean soup now.)

We watched Proof, and then Politica clicked around on the networks to see what was on. She stopped at Garrison Keillor's special for me. He rang in the new year with a Kenneth Rexroth poem (scroll down--it's the second one on the page) about how beautiful your partner looks when caring for your children. Politica is, um, not a fan of Garrison Keillor, and she particularly dislikes it when he sings. Most of what he was doing late in the special was singing (with some awesome guests, it must be said). But she knows I like his work (like this) quite a bit, so she stopped there, and that's what we watched to ring in the new year. And that's one of the qualities that makes Politica so beautiful--her ability to give me things I love and enjoy, even when it wouldn't be her first choice. She takes pleasure in my goofy enjoyment of corny musicals (she stocked our new iPod with broadway music for my birthday) and Keillor. Her generous spirit reminds me that it's good to listen to your partner, good to turn towards each other.

One of our friends has a family tradition of writing down for each year a hope, a fear, and a prediction. Round is Funny has a tradition of making predictions, and Pilgrim/Heretic did a recap of the year. Politica is helping Woman of Many Talents with her law school statement, Curious Girl is running around wanting company with various schemes (build with me! play with me! be my honey! no, be the big sister and I'll be the mama! let's have a tea party!). So I'd love to be all introspective, but it's more a make-pretend kind of day around here (later, I'll upload a photo of the fancy tea party we had for morning snack). We did make a list in my Curious Girl journal of the cool accomplishments of the year: her first library card, our beach vacation (and jellyfish sting, a topic bringing many people by here. Note to those people: if you're stung by a sea urchin, pee on it. But for a jellyfish sting, wet sand is the ticket. Or the Muppets.) But beyond that, it's not looking like much of a reflective day around here.

Many good wishes for the new year to you and yours.

A New Sign of the Season, for Next Year

We're leaving for the airport in a couple of hours--off to visit Politica's father and then my family. We'll be gone for only a week, and then will be home for a week of winter break. We're looking forward to the home part. Usually we drive east and take the whole break away from home. Time at home seems like a luxury, and we can't wait.

But still, we'll be gone for a week, and so when one of my friends came by last night to pick up her daughter (after a regular Tuesday playdate and dinner), I gave her some of the food we hadn't finished. Her older kids eyed the pineapple on our dining room table (something we'd meant to cut up for our party but forgot to). I gave them the pineapple. "A Hanukkah pineapple!" the kids said. Curious Girl got sad that we were giving away the pineapple, so I chopped a piece for us and gave them the rest. In the excitement of hustling the kids back out of the house, they forgot the pineapple, so I drove it over to their house. I arrived just as one of their children was starting to whine about the forgotten pineapple.

"Let's always do this, give each other a pineapple for Hanukkah," my friend said. I laughed. "It wouldn't be Hanukkah without the new traditional Hanukkah pineapple!" OK, maybe you had to be there, or maybe you had to be someone who lives thousands of miles away from her family and thus has very little in the way of traditional traditions in the course of the year. So I love the traditions that emerge among the three of us, and I especially love the traditions that emerge among our friends-like-family here. So for next year, a Hanukkah pineapple.

Who knows, you might like one, too.

And on another note entirely: your comments have been so kind on those last couple of posts. When life gets stressful, it's an amazing comfort that people in blogland are simply and quietly leaving comments. I've appreciated it. Thank you.

Sharing the latkes (updated)

You guys have left so many nice comments on my last couple of posts: thanks! I'm so lucky to have such wonderful readers.

I meant to include some latke links in my last post. Perhaps Elswhere's milennial latke recipe will help Arwen with her frying problem (although you're on your own with the falafel, a food I can't make, either). The nerdily inclined will enjoy constitutional perspectives with their latke recipe. I'll be following Elswhere's directions to make the latkes in advance for our Hanukkah/Solstice/Jul party this evening. Now, off to clean up the house!

Updated to add: Elswhere's latkes are delicious! She uses a grater; I used a food processor. It took me about an hour and a half to make the latkes, even though I forgot to put the water on to boil until after I'd grated the potatoes. I didn't trust things to take a shower while the latkes were cooking, but I did a lot of clean up while they were cooking. Slow frying seemed to make a difference, and I liked the way they fried up a bit better on the cast iron griddle than on the no stick pan. And I realized late in the cooking that making more small latkes is a better way to feed a crowd than making fewere big ones. oops. Even so, we had some left over. The batter got increasingly watery and towards the end I was using a slotted spoon to scoop. Yum!

See friends, get presents, eat latkes

Curious Girl woke up with morning all excited about the first night of Hanukkah. She picked up Kitty Kitty, her pink striped cat, and asked Kitty Kitty if she was excited about Hanukkah. "Help her talk, Mama!" So we chatted, Kitty Kitty, CG, and I, and in the course of the conversation CG explained to her animal that on Hanukkah, there are PRESENTS! What else do we do? Kitty Kitty wondered. "Oh, see friends, eat latkes. And presents! It's the first night, then the second night......there are candles."

So there you have it, in case you were wondering what the holiday is all about and couldn't make your way to Wikipedia or something.

And one other random note: Liz is right, the Barenaked Ladies holiday album is quite good. The original Hanukkah song is pretty good, "I Have a LIttle Dreidl" remains rather annoying unless it's sung by one's own small child, and the most amusing song on the album is "I Make Toys," sung from the point of view of a marxist elf in Santa's workshop.

A happy holiday to all readers who are celebrating tonight!

Thanksgiving

I'd forgotten how much fun it is to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Curious Girl. (In fact, the patter of the hosts and the incessant commercials are so irritating that CG is pretty much the highlight of the parade-viewing experience.) She runs up to the TV and talks to the balloons. "Oh! Scooby Doo! You're my favorite character! Do you want a bone? Mama, help him talk! Do you want a bone? Oh, good. Are you full? Do you want another one?" Snoopy got kisses. Dora got peppered with questions about why she had so many strings coming off her. "To keep me safe," Dora explained, "so I don't fly up too high and get lost or hurt." "Oh, that's such a good idea!" CG responded. "My moms always keep me safe."

We got to see the Barbie float twice (on two different channels). After the first one, CG said, 'I didn't know she was going to have a tiara. I'll have to get mine, too." So there she was, building with tinkertoys, wearing a tiara, talking to the Barbie on TV.

It's quiet in the house now. CG is finally asleep, although Politica is still in with her. Our friends have gone home, the cats are recovering from a houseful of children who spent a long time hunting for the cats, and I'm feeling happy and lucky. Angry Pregnant Lawyer's Thanksgiving post mentioned the luck she had in sitting next to her best friend from law school or getting to work with another friend in her first job. That got me thinking about my own luck. I got lucky when I went to new faculty orientation, and I looked around the room and thought "that one looks like someone to sit next to." And so I met Pseudonymless Friend, although it took us the better part of the year to actually cultivate the friendship, we both being rather shy in some respects. It's hard to believe their oldest child is already 10! Time has flown, and I'm grateful that our friendship--and the friendships among our children--has blossomed over time. Our friends here really are family to us, and I'm grateful for the networks we've woven over time.

Some other friends couldn't come for dinner, so came for lunch and playtime instead. They marveled at Curious Girl's eating, and that's something else I'm grateful for. I still remember nights when I almost didn't believe she'd ever eat normally. And I love watching her eat.

Our dining room had a beautiful spray of flowers in it, a surprise happy gift from Politica and CG to me. I love my family, and I love the home we create together. I'm lucky.

Holidays aren't always easy. For those readers celebrating Thanksgiving, I wish you good food and good company. And readers elsewhere, may you have a good weekend nourished by what feeds you.

Winter Holiday of My Choice

Here's my questionnaire for the Winter Holiday of My Choice extravaganza. This is Andrea's brainchild, and last year, when WHOMC posts started popping up on blogs I read, I was rather confused (reading some of the questionnaires before I read Andrea's explanation--such is the nature of blog reading). It's a bloggy secret Santa/holiday-figure-of-your-choice program, you can see what Andrea received and gave last year if you want a concrete example of some results.

If I could, I'd invent something that I could point out the window on long car trips that would magically display info about the buildings or landscape or whatever I was looking at and damn it, the world needs one because curiosity and wonder are amazing, and besides, Politica gets tired of my speculative questions after a few hours.

I sometimes buy scrapbooking stuff, because it is/they are more like the
me I want to be than the me that I am. I use my scrapping materials, but never as quickly as I sometimes bring it into the house.

If you came over to my house to play and touched my ________________ I'd be
a little bit mad at you forever. I don't think I can answer this one: there's nothing around here I'm quite so attached to. But please don't finish the cocoa without sharing some with me.

The colour/s _______________ makes me want to shave my eyeballs with a
cheese grater. Hmm...not sure what to say on this one. I''m not a big fan of lime green, I guess, but mostly I love colo(u)rs of all sorts.

The colour/s _________________ is/are so beautiful that when I see them, a
beam of light comes down and I hear a choir sing. Hard to pick! I love colours--bright colors, earth tones.

Fried eggs make me gag, feel it in my mouth for a minute, and
then swallow it back down rather than spit it out (or else I just don't like
it, but I'm too nice to say it.)

I might get sick or die if I touch or ingest sulfa drugs (probably not a big issue for this event!), or look at ____________________. (this is where you mention allergies or phobias) I have a mild phobia about dogs, but Curious Girl doesn't know that, and I'm getting better.

The allegedly balanced arguments against same-sex marriage gives me the willies and I might need to consider a
frontal lobotomy if I even think about it further. Except I will be thinking about it further because it's all around.

I love the feel of silk and chenille so much I want to hump it like a puppy on
a sofa pillow.

No one should have to watch me eat the heels on a loaf of bread, because then I might
consider being polite enough to share, and I don't want to share it.

I'm a grown-up now, so I don't have to eat melon any more, and you can't make me.

If I could invent a way to permanently coat my nostril hairs with this
scent, I'd be my own biggest customer: the smell of the ocean. Or sometimes, pine forests. Mostly, I'd rather be in those places than to have artificial smells. I don't tend to buy scented things.

Three things I like that anyone might like: books, hiking, gardens in bloom

Three things I like that nobody else in the world likes:
ugly shoes (I'm still missing the Birkenstock Londoners Politica persuaded me to dump several years ago), fountain pens, academic administration, and, if it's OK to add a 4th, show tunes

I have TOO MANY/TOO MUCH OF tea, photos to add to our scrapbooks, and shoes, and not enough time. And books, of course, something almost everyone doing this seems to have too many and not enough of all at once!

Okay, we know the best things in life aren't things, but these are the best
things in life if there are going to be best things: Ekornes chairs, tickets for a trip to a cool new place, new shoes, new dishes to share with friends.

When people have kind, sweet and nice things to say about me, they're usually
talking about how patient I am, or how I can work with groups well. When they say I'm
easily distracted, or enthusiastic, they're usually right too. And Politica says that when Curious Girl says I'm a rock star, she's right, too.

It's true, I'm a dictionary-loving nerd. I'm learning to be proud of it.

If I could have any talent in the world, I'd choose playing/singing by ear and use
it to sing and play more spontaneously than I can.

You are given a day and a no-limit credit card to spend in one of these
places, childfree. Choose one, or write your own: If I were given a day and a no-limit credit card, I'd not waste the day going shopping. I'd be tempted to make a big donation to an organization I wanted to support more than I do--one of the things POlitica and I want to do is up our philanthropic giving in our budget--and then I'd head outdoors to somewhere grand and glorious: a deserted beach, a mountain trail, and I'd end the day with Politica in a comfy cozy b&b with a hot tub. But if I had to go shopping, I'd pick one of the two places below I've commented on. I'd definitely not go to the swanky bar, and probably not the craft show (but if there were a scrapbooking or stationery store on the way to the auction, I might stop in):

An auction, where you never know what you want until you see it, and then
you want it more than anyone. It's all about the adventure and the
atmosphere--except not exactly an auction, since the competitive pressure isn't my style. I hate to shop, but I like browsing in places that don't have lots of everything. Most of my clothes shopping is done either via catalog, or in consignment shops, where I like the small selection and unpredictability.

A picturesque neon-lit bar, where a couple of swank cocktails and a friendly
bartender might lead to a Chandler-esque story. It's all about becoming a
character yourself.

A craft show, because you really need to find something attractive to cover
your spare rolls of toilet paper with, and then, you want to maybe glue some
paper to some more paper. It's all about making and doing.

A gourmet food store, because you are what you eat. It's all about feeding
yourself and your soul. I do love cooking and eating. Except I'd rather go to a really good farmer's market than a gourmet food store.

A hoity toity boutique, because you'd rather have the experience of shopping
gracefully than anything. It's all about quality time.


And here's the last chance to make sure that you're not going to get a
"Jelly of the Month" club membership when you're expecting your bonus for a
swimming pool:

It is important to me that the items chosen for me
are things you have fun choosing: no angels, please, but for the most part, I'm not hard to please. And I will think it's a fun adventure to learn about you by what things you choose.
(Examples: respect my Wal-Mart boycott, are vegan, aren't made by child or
sweatshop labour, can be stuffed down my pants)

And

If I could suggest that you read only one post from my archives, this would
be it, although you might find that 10 by 10 series linked in my right navigation bar is probably a more well-rounded set of random facts about me, generally. My favorite posts, though, are about Curious Girl.

And

If I were to name the Holiday of my choice for this exchange, it would be:
The Winter Holiday of Our Choice. We celebrate more Hanukkah than Christmas, although our extended families celebrate Christmas, and the fact that we are usually on the road in the holiday season has created a bit of December angst around here. If you want to read more about that, see this old post. (Please feel free to make one up - but this is
your chance to say "Um, I'm Jewish but that doesn't mean give me dreidels!"
or "More Santa decorations please - I only have thirty-seven now." or
"Winter and gifts yes; religious denominations, no - if only all cards could
be like those politically correct corporate holiday wishes!" if you want to.
Or, you know FESTIVUS!)

Throwing Away Pharaoh, Wishes for Happy New Year, and Help from Julie

"I threw away Pharoah," Curious Girl said to me at 6:15 a.m. on Tuesday, after informing me that the sun was PINK! and wondering was it wakeup time just yet. "You threw away Pharoah?" I said, somewhat groggily. "Yes, I threw away Pharoah, because he's so mean. I threw him away," and she gestured emphatically.

"You mean, in your head, in your imagination, you threw him away so you wouldn't have to think about him?" She looked at me with that sort of exasperated pity that four-year olds have much of for parents who don't follow their mental leaps. "No. For real. With the baby birdseed."

Ah yes, the baby birdseed. Tashlich.
which we did this year after the family service for Rosh Hashanah, using birdseed at the pond on the property. We'd talked all together about some things we might like to toss away: meltdowns, lack of patience, grumpiness. But CG took a different tack, and threw away someone mean, someone scary. Not a bad way to start the year, just tossing out the bad.

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Some bloggy maintenance, from Julie, who always knows her stuff: any bloglines readers should reformat the feeds you've subscribed to http://granolacrunchy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/full. That should keep you up to date--which assumes, of course, that there are posts here to be up to date on. Being a good department chair is making me a not-so-good blogger, but believe me, I've tons of posts brewing in my head. My big challenge as chair: keeping time to write (both academic stuff and blog stuff). And my current wonder about blogger beta: why won't my expandable posts work anymore? I miss them. And you probably miss them too, since I can go on a bit. The folds are nice.

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Back to the new year: I found the camera! (the first version of this post had no photo). I forgot to take the picture until we'd eaten half the loaf, so you have to imagine a full circle. But it sort of looked like Phantom's. I also can't find Phantom's post in which she photographed her beautiful Rosh Hashana challah--but as you can see, ours was similar, only covered in sprinkled colored sugar and cookie sprinkles. Curious Girl wanted to take challah to school to share with her friends, and when I said they could dip it in honey for a sweet new year wish, she wanted to put chocolate chips in it. "That's my good idea, to make a sweet year," she said. I wasn't sure chips in bread dough would work out, so we did the sprinkles on top. It was pretty tasty, but not so pretty after the first three days. We talked about why it was braided round (the year goes round and round, I was trying to tell her), and when I said, "can you tell when one year ends and another starts?" she said "I can!" How, I wondered. "Because we make round challah." (this was, I have to point out, the very first year of round challah, but it became an insta-year-detecting tradition). Very funny.

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So I'm late in wishing anyone celebrating a new-ish year a sweet one, but good wishes are never out of style, right? So good new year to you and yours; happy October to you and yours. Here's to a fall full of words for us all: I'm liking my new job, but I'm missing my blogs. So a call to renew some habits is quite timely for me.