Holidays at the pool have changed over time, as expected, especially the decorating. In the past it was a family affair. Everyone had a hand in it, and it became a game to see who could escape before being called upon to do something. Now, there aren't so many people at home. Eggbert is gone; Morticia works or stays at her second home; Big Brother has his own place now, and that only leaves Ms. Business and Moink. And DH, who can be a help and a hindrance at the same time, like last year with the Great Christmas Tree debacle.
We won't go into any details. Just thinking about it brings terrible things to mind, and we're still in the Christmas season.
This year, I asked Big Brother to bring the tree out of remission from the garage to the living room, which he did. It sat in the box in the living room for a week. Every night I asked DH where he thought we should put the tree this year, (Putting up the tree means moving furniture around) and every year, DH is a wonderful help when it comes to doing the decorating. Moink suggested we just leave it in the box, set it upright, and put the presents around it, and as Christmas approached, it appeared that would be the only viable option. I finally made the decision as to where the tree would be placed, and started moving furniture. Moink looked at me. "Do you need help with that?"
Duh.
Moink and I got the curio chest moved to the dining room by emptying the shelves and waltzing it across the living room. Then, it was on to putting the tree together. It is twenty years old, dusty, and smells a bit mildewy, which is lovely considering I'm allergic to both dust and mold. By the time we had the branches on the tree, I was coughing up a lung. Nice.
That was the Saturday before Christmas. On Sunday, Ms. Business and I went back to the garage and pulled out all the boxes of decorations. She carried them to the kitchen, where Moink was commissioned to take them to the living room. I got out the strings of lights, checked to make sure they worked, and looked into the living room to find DH sitting in the chair next to the naked tree, reading a book.
Reading a book. He hasn't picked up his Kindle in weeks, and that day, at that specific moment, he had to read.
Apologizing for having to make him move, he got up and moved to the dining room. I moved the chair, and then proceeded to string the lights on the tree. They got tangled once, and DH came over to help hold them for a few seconds. Wow. I don't know what I would have done without his help.
Monday came, and I started putting decorations on the tree. By Tuesday, the tree was done, and the Christmas Mice were displayed in the entry ( I love the Christmas Mice - they're ornaments based on 'T'was the Night Before Christmas' and they just add so much to the entry!), and by Wednesday, all the boxes of decorations had been taken back to the garage. It all looked nice, and we were finally ready for the holiday. (sigh)
Now, with the New Year upon us, it will be time to take everything down and stored away again for another year. I'm hoping that next year we'll have a new tree, one that won't make me feel like I'm dying when it gets put up. And maybe, just maybe, DH will be a little more helpful, but I won't hold my breath!
Speaking of the New Year, do you make resolutions? Some years I haven't resolved to do more than just stay afloat in the Stress Pool.
Until then, Happy New Year; may you be healthy, happy, and safe. May your own pool always be filled with clear, sparkling water, and your days sunny and bright. Just like they are at the Stress Pool.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
You'll Eat It, You'll Like It, and You'll Be Happy
In one of the last postings I promised a story as to the birth of the monthly menu, and in light of the season of new beginnings, I thought it might be helpful. After all, it's kept my marriage - and the kids - happy.
In the beginning, there were two people who sorta kinda were in love. One was a seasoned young man and the other a starry eyed young girl who really didn't know a lot about much. They honeymooned in the Laurel Mountains, which grew foggy, restricting the ability to do anything other than what they could do at home, so they decided to save the extra money and returned home to their little apartment.
A word about the apartment. It was on the Main Line of Skunk Central (every evening skunks would walk through the side yard. Sit on the front porch at your own risk sort of thing.) It was on the second floor of a duplex, and the large living room window was in a direct line of the town's fire whistle. Our landlords felt so sorry for us that sweltering summer they brought us a window air conditioner for the bedroom - the rest of the apartment was like sitting in a steam bath.We loved that apartment!
I decided to take my last personal day, but DH went back to work to save the day for another time. I went food shopping and bought: 2 steaks; 2 frozen dinners; 1 pound of kielbasa. There might have been a box of mac and cheese. I was totally in my comfort zone. I learned to cook some things from Mima, like roast beef, spaghetti, and some easy things like that. She made stuffed peppers (yuk) and something referred to as Swiss Steak (highly tenderized beef cooked in tomato sauce - double yuk). Apple pie. Pie crusts in general - got that nailed! Well, DH came home from work and I asked which of the delectable treats he'd like for dinner.
His jaw dropped to the floor with a thud. "Is that all you bought?"
Me: "Well, yeah."
DH: "Didn't you look in a cookbook?"
Me: "Huh?"
He sat me down and said, "I will cook for the first three months." And, he did. We never repeated a meal. Turns out we owned cook books (who knew?) and the man can cook. The only meal I balked at was meatballs in some cream sauce. I argued there is a reason Jewish people don't mix meat and milk. (We're not Jewish, but there is a lot of merit in that belief!)
The new phrase was: "You'll eat it, you'll like it, and you'll be happy."
I did not eat the meatballs. Okay, I tried them, but they were just as awful as it sounded, at least, to me.
At the end of the three months, he said, "Now we'll each take a turn. I'll cook one week, and you'll cook the next." Somehow, after thirty-one years, it's come down to me cooking all the time. Guess I've done pretty well or he never would have handed it over. We came to writing down what we'd have that week to what we'd do for two (which is how long it was between pay checks), to making it out for the month so we wouldn't repeat anything.
The method to the madness? Designate a chicken night, a beef night, a pork night, a pasta, and a soup in the winter, salad in the summer. Allow for leftovers (which Moink refuses to eat. So much for eating, liking, and happiness!) That's how we do it. So far, it's worked out just fine. It makes it easier to write out a shopping list. Sometimes meals have to be switched out because of schedules, but there's always something waiting in the wings. (Sometimes you just have to order wings and get take-out!)
I swear by the monthly menu. Christmas falls this week, and that's always standing rib roast and Yorkshire pudding, my favorite meal of the year. I'm going to try a new recipe for Parmesan roasted Brussels sprouts, and Morticia likes mashed potatoes. Ms. Business likes asparagus, so we'll have that, too. Everyone should be able to find something they like. The hardest part was finding out who's coming for dinner and it looks like the whole clan will be here.
If you celebrate Christmas, may the peace and joy of the Christ Child find a place in your heart. If you don't celebrate Christmas, may you find peace in this season of slowly lengthening days, and be sure to come for another visit to the Stress Pool.
In the beginning, there were two people who sorta kinda were in love. One was a seasoned young man and the other a starry eyed young girl who really didn't know a lot about much. They honeymooned in the Laurel Mountains, which grew foggy, restricting the ability to do anything other than what they could do at home, so they decided to save the extra money and returned home to their little apartment.
A word about the apartment. It was on the Main Line of Skunk Central (every evening skunks would walk through the side yard. Sit on the front porch at your own risk sort of thing.) It was on the second floor of a duplex, and the large living room window was in a direct line of the town's fire whistle. Our landlords felt so sorry for us that sweltering summer they brought us a window air conditioner for the bedroom - the rest of the apartment was like sitting in a steam bath.We loved that apartment!
I decided to take my last personal day, but DH went back to work to save the day for another time. I went food shopping and bought: 2 steaks; 2 frozen dinners; 1 pound of kielbasa. There might have been a box of mac and cheese. I was totally in my comfort zone. I learned to cook some things from Mima, like roast beef, spaghetti, and some easy things like that. She made stuffed peppers (yuk) and something referred to as Swiss Steak (highly tenderized beef cooked in tomato sauce - double yuk). Apple pie. Pie crusts in general - got that nailed! Well, DH came home from work and I asked which of the delectable treats he'd like for dinner.
His jaw dropped to the floor with a thud. "Is that all you bought?"
Me: "Well, yeah."
DH: "Didn't you look in a cookbook?"
Me: "Huh?"
He sat me down and said, "I will cook for the first three months." And, he did. We never repeated a meal. Turns out we owned cook books (who knew?) and the man can cook. The only meal I balked at was meatballs in some cream sauce. I argued there is a reason Jewish people don't mix meat and milk. (We're not Jewish, but there is a lot of merit in that belief!)
The new phrase was: "You'll eat it, you'll like it, and you'll be happy."
I did not eat the meatballs. Okay, I tried them, but they were just as awful as it sounded, at least, to me.
At the end of the three months, he said, "Now we'll each take a turn. I'll cook one week, and you'll cook the next." Somehow, after thirty-one years, it's come down to me cooking all the time. Guess I've done pretty well or he never would have handed it over. We came to writing down what we'd have that week to what we'd do for two (which is how long it was between pay checks), to making it out for the month so we wouldn't repeat anything.
The method to the madness? Designate a chicken night, a beef night, a pork night, a pasta, and a soup in the winter, salad in the summer. Allow for leftovers (which Moink refuses to eat. So much for eating, liking, and happiness!) That's how we do it. So far, it's worked out just fine. It makes it easier to write out a shopping list. Sometimes meals have to be switched out because of schedules, but there's always something waiting in the wings. (Sometimes you just have to order wings and get take-out!)
I swear by the monthly menu. Christmas falls this week, and that's always standing rib roast and Yorkshire pudding, my favorite meal of the year. I'm going to try a new recipe for Parmesan roasted Brussels sprouts, and Morticia likes mashed potatoes. Ms. Business likes asparagus, so we'll have that, too. Everyone should be able to find something they like. The hardest part was finding out who's coming for dinner and it looks like the whole clan will be here.
If you celebrate Christmas, may the peace and joy of the Christ Child find a place in your heart. If you don't celebrate Christmas, may you find peace in this season of slowly lengthening days, and be sure to come for another visit to the Stress Pool.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Where's Waldo - I mean, Mima?
So, another week has passed and we're still floating in the pool. Hubby announced that in most blogs, the husband is referred to as DH, as in "Dearest" or "Darling". I thought that would also work for "Dastardly" or "Devious", as he can often be both of those, too. Therefore, Hubby will now be referred to as DH. We'll fill in for the 'D' when necessary!
By the way, he did not like the Whiskey-Peach Chicken, and neither did Moink. I thought it was divine, and a good thing, too, because that's what I ended up taking for lunch the entire week. Big Brother and DiDi (his girlfriend) liked it, so three out of five people gave it the thumbs up, which is better than half. Next time we get invited to a gathering where we need to bring a covered dish, I know what I'm bringing.
I took my mother grocery shopping this morning after church. Mima is eighty-one years old, has had one knee replacement and a pin in one hip. She's going to the doctor this week to see about getting the other knee replaced. See where I'm headed? Mima is pretty inactive, meaning when she spoke with the cardiologist a few months ago and he inquired how much she walks, she said, "Up and down the hallway, sometimes twice a day."
But, give that woman a shopping cart, finding her in the store is like trying to find Waldo!
I see her at the end of an aisle, and by the time I get to there, she's disappeared. No sense trying to call out to her. People standing at the bus stop a mile away would hear me before she'd turn around. Many of the employees know me because I used to work there - almost twenty years ago - and they'll ask me if I've lost my mother or if I've forgotten where something is. (And, since they moved the ENTIRE store around, the latter is a distinct possibility! That's another posting - the insanity of marketing techniques and the effects on those with senior moments!) The twenty minute stopping at the store actually lasted closer to an hour before we even got in line. Three deep. Shopping carts overflowing with food. I count fifteen items in my cart. Express is 12 or fewer. I choose what looks like the lesser of all the evils, but the cashier is chatty and slow, and at the end of the order in front of me, tries to ring in a coupon for another store. This market doesn't accept competitor coupons. I finally say something after the third time she tries, because even the customer doesn't realize it's for another store! At this point, I fear there is little hope for me getting out alive, because I have some things separated from the rest of my order - they're for school. I explain how they need to be scanned separately, but apparently I've slipped into that foreign language I occasionally use in the classroom (the one where they look at me with blank expressions before doing the complete opposite of what I've just told them to do) I have to stop her, get her to see what I mean, and then she says, "Oh, I didn't understand!"
No duh.
I've survived yet another shopping experience on a Sunday before a football game. Someone remind me why I dislike going to the store on Sundays the next time!
By the way, I did find my mother, helped her get the rest of the things on her list (which were at the beginning of the store!) and got her safely home. I went to my house and went straight for the coffee pot.
Ah, coffee. Nectar of the gods. What a great way to relax.
Thanks for dropping by, and see you next time at the Stress Pool. Bring your favorite mug and your swimsuit - might as well jump in with the rest of us.
By the way, he did not like the Whiskey-Peach Chicken, and neither did Moink. I thought it was divine, and a good thing, too, because that's what I ended up taking for lunch the entire week. Big Brother and DiDi (his girlfriend) liked it, so three out of five people gave it the thumbs up, which is better than half. Next time we get invited to a gathering where we need to bring a covered dish, I know what I'm bringing.
I took my mother grocery shopping this morning after church. Mima is eighty-one years old, has had one knee replacement and a pin in one hip. She's going to the doctor this week to see about getting the other knee replaced. See where I'm headed? Mima is pretty inactive, meaning when she spoke with the cardiologist a few months ago and he inquired how much she walks, she said, "Up and down the hallway, sometimes twice a day."
But, give that woman a shopping cart, finding her in the store is like trying to find Waldo!
I see her at the end of an aisle, and by the time I get to there, she's disappeared. No sense trying to call out to her. People standing at the bus stop a mile away would hear me before she'd turn around. Many of the employees know me because I used to work there - almost twenty years ago - and they'll ask me if I've lost my mother or if I've forgotten where something is. (And, since they moved the ENTIRE store around, the latter is a distinct possibility! That's another posting - the insanity of marketing techniques and the effects on those with senior moments!) The twenty minute stopping at the store actually lasted closer to an hour before we even got in line. Three deep. Shopping carts overflowing with food. I count fifteen items in my cart. Express is 12 or fewer. I choose what looks like the lesser of all the evils, but the cashier is chatty and slow, and at the end of the order in front of me, tries to ring in a coupon for another store. This market doesn't accept competitor coupons. I finally say something after the third time she tries, because even the customer doesn't realize it's for another store! At this point, I fear there is little hope for me getting out alive, because I have some things separated from the rest of my order - they're for school. I explain how they need to be scanned separately, but apparently I've slipped into that foreign language I occasionally use in the classroom (the one where they look at me with blank expressions before doing the complete opposite of what I've just told them to do) I have to stop her, get her to see what I mean, and then she says, "Oh, I didn't understand!"
No duh.
I've survived yet another shopping experience on a Sunday before a football game. Someone remind me why I dislike going to the store on Sundays the next time!
By the way, I did find my mother, helped her get the rest of the things on her list (which were at the beginning of the store!) and got her safely home. I went to my house and went straight for the coffee pot.
Ah, coffee. Nectar of the gods. What a great way to relax.
Thanks for dropping by, and see you next time at the Stress Pool. Bring your favorite mug and your swimsuit - might as well jump in with the rest of us.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
What's for Dinner?
I was a little shocked to see when the last posting was - mostly because it often feels as if time has stood still, while I know it hasn't. Sometimes I just can't think of anything to say - hard for those of you who know me to believe! So, when I mentioned this to Hubby, he said, "Why don't you write about the dish you're making for dinner tomorrow?"
I've always had a love/hate relationship with cooking. I do okay - there's a great story from when we were first married 31 years ago, but that's for another time - but cooking takes a bite out of one's day. And, working people, here's your chance to agree with me - when you get home after a long day of working, the last thing you want to do is stand over the stove. Much easier to pop leftovers into the microwave. Of course, that means you have to have previously cooked something, and well, there you have it. This brought on the birth of the Monthly Menu.
The Monthly Menu consists of an entire month's worth of what's for dinner at the Kelly household. The children have come to live by it - they know when they want to be here for dinner and when they don't. It also provides an opportunity for the best friend of Miss Business, Sweetie-Pie, to pop in and decide what night she would like to come over for dinner. (Consequently, I never know how many people will be here to eat a meal!)
So, every month I pull out the 'Kelly's Good Eats' binder of collected recipes, or one of the many cookbooks we own, and construct a month's worth of fabulous dinners. Since I do most of the cooking, I've been making the menu. Now, to the crux of why Hubby said I should write about the wonderful Sunday dinner I've planned. It's a dish from the Pioneer Woman's cookbook called Whiskey Peach Chicken. Made my mouth water on that cold, November day. What's so special about it?
Whiskey makes Hubby sick.
Well, since we're not drinking the sauce, I'm not too worried. The fun part was buying the whiskey. Since we don't drink it - ever - I had no idea what to buy! It took me over half an hour to pick one out, and it seems to have been met with approval from Hubby. The dish has been made and is in the oven right now - and boy, does it smell good! Serving suggestion is to put it on a big heap of mashed potatoes - is your mouth watering yet? Mine is. I'll have to let you know how it turned out. One of these days, when I get a website up and running, I'll share the monthly menu with all of you. It really helps out with planning the shopping trip - another favorite. (Loud rolling of the eyes)
Thanks for visiting, and come back for another dip in the Stress Pool soon!
I've always had a love/hate relationship with cooking. I do okay - there's a great story from when we were first married 31 years ago, but that's for another time - but cooking takes a bite out of one's day. And, working people, here's your chance to agree with me - when you get home after a long day of working, the last thing you want to do is stand over the stove. Much easier to pop leftovers into the microwave. Of course, that means you have to have previously cooked something, and well, there you have it. This brought on the birth of the Monthly Menu.
The Monthly Menu consists of an entire month's worth of what's for dinner at the Kelly household. The children have come to live by it - they know when they want to be here for dinner and when they don't. It also provides an opportunity for the best friend of Miss Business, Sweetie-Pie, to pop in and decide what night she would like to come over for dinner. (Consequently, I never know how many people will be here to eat a meal!)
So, every month I pull out the 'Kelly's Good Eats' binder of collected recipes, or one of the many cookbooks we own, and construct a month's worth of fabulous dinners. Since I do most of the cooking, I've been making the menu. Now, to the crux of why Hubby said I should write about the wonderful Sunday dinner I've planned. It's a dish from the Pioneer Woman's cookbook called Whiskey Peach Chicken. Made my mouth water on that cold, November day. What's so special about it?
Whiskey makes Hubby sick.
Well, since we're not drinking the sauce, I'm not too worried. The fun part was buying the whiskey. Since we don't drink it - ever - I had no idea what to buy! It took me over half an hour to pick one out, and it seems to have been met with approval from Hubby. The dish has been made and is in the oven right now - and boy, does it smell good! Serving suggestion is to put it on a big heap of mashed potatoes - is your mouth watering yet? Mine is. I'll have to let you know how it turned out. One of these days, when I get a website up and running, I'll share the monthly menu with all of you. It really helps out with planning the shopping trip - another favorite. (Loud rolling of the eyes)
Thanks for visiting, and come back for another dip in the Stress Pool soon!
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