sueeeus

There has been a flurry of activity of late around these parts.  Family members have converged at chez moi, to my extreme pleasure.  But the shame of it.  Gardening is not my thing.  My fantasy, but not my reality.  “You have a nice home, Sissy, but your currrrrrb appeal…”  She drifted off with a tsk tsk tsk, for the shame of it.

To my defense, I have a full day from the time I rise, without enough sleep, I might add.  Ever.  I commute, I work, I collect my child from his able caregiver, whisk him home and prepare the evening meal, clean him up, get him ready for bed, play a little, take him to bed and stay with him until he’s sleeping.  At which point, it is me time.  Or, generally, my own bed time.  When do I have opportunity for gardening

I am remiss.

Today I tried something different.  I let my rambunctious child play outside while I surveyed the situation and attempted to do a little damage control.  It turned out to be too hot and too difficult to get anything accomplished besides keeping him from running away or falling off the steps and skinning his knees.  When Mr. Gadget finally returned from work, we fed the munchkin his dinner, got him ready for bed, and both went with him to settle him down.  Only I made my stealthy exit and got down to business.  Me, a shovel, and a spade. 

There are definite improvements.  I recycled the moustache fringe of whathaveyous and transplanted them in all the nice pots that were previously empty, or growing weeds.  I don’t know what they are, but they certainly proliferate, because I swear I dug them up last year after deciding I didn’t particularly like them after all.  They may well die, now that they are in pots, but I won’t be heartbroken if they do.  And if they survive   They look quite nice in pots.

Before and after.  There is much room for improvement, but I surprisingly enough had a very nice time doing what little I did.

Before.  The moustache.

After the shave.

It’s a sad state of affairs.

But a little more welcoming now.

Rather than work on my lengthy to-do list, I’ve been making goodies. It started with shortbread. My dad’s recipe. It turned out okay, but not as wonderful as my childhood recollections. It did help make things seem a bit more cheerful, having a house full of buttery sugary yummy smells. Next came the cashew brittle. I’ve never made it before. The recipe came from Mrs. Fields, and called for macadamia nuts. I had cashews, so cashew brittle it became. It was surprisingly easy to make. The house smells even more sugary and buttery. I couldn’t stop with the brittle. I decided to dip pretzels in dark chocolate. I like that salty sweet combo. And finally, the rice crispy treats. More butter. And marshmallows. I don’t really like marshmallows, but I do like rice crispy treats.
With a house full of goodies, I felt compelled to buy some holiday tins to package them in, and ultimately, give away. Otherwise, I will eat it. All of it.
Somehow, the cheer doesn’t linger long. I was thinking of making meringues, or ambrosia. I don’t know the correct term. I’ve never made it, but thought I’d try. I have a nice mixer that should make short work of whipping egg whites to a stiff peak. I also want to make candied popcorn, or popcorn balls. Popcorn is a happy smell to me. When we were young, we always had peanuts in the shell, an orange, an assortment of ribbon candies, and sometimes popcorn balls in our stockings on Christmas morning. But the tins are already full.

I am avoiding my to-do list well. And the cheer remains somewhat elusive. It comes and goes.

…before I go collect my boy.

I am actually on vacation this week, but it feels about the same as any other working week. Part of me feels guilty for dropping him off, but I can get errands done faster if I don’t have to bundle him in and out of the carseat. Good daycare is in demand. The waiting lists are long. To secure our spot, we pay whether he’s there or not. So I’m taking advantage of this time. In fact, the cool cat and I actually went out to a movie on Monday. Our first theater movie since the Boo was born. We saw King Kong. It was gory in places. I had to look away. And I jumped on several occasions. And squirmed. And smiled. We had a good time.

I have a list. A very ambitious list. I wanted to get my life organized during this break. So I can feel more at peace. More calm. Less stress. But I’ve been blowing off the things on my list. I’m having such a hard time getting into the swing of things this year.

I went to JoAnn’s today to get some tins for baked goodies. I appreciate the price reductions of 70% off all Christmas items. But they’re busily putting out the Valentine’s Day stock. I can’t even say how deflating this feels to me, this pushing of the next commercial occasion. I want things to SLOW DOWN! I want to kick back, drink some tea, and read a book. And not worry about the bazillion things I think I need to do. I don’t want to think of Valentine’s Day. I don’t want to be surrounded by pink and red fuzzy hearts quite yet.

Here’s my new list.

Rest.
Drink some tea.
Have some more tea.
Read a book.
Take a nap.

But not now. Now I have to go get my love bug. He needs some serious snuggling. Or rather, I do.

At Chez Squished we have a very pretty tree. It’s a rather squished tree. Squished full of decorations. It’s squished into a corner. Yes, we have a house with not one, but two living rooms, and two dining rooms. What is up with that Who designs these ridiculous floor plans What use do I have for two small living rooms and two small dining rooms. Areas, actually. They are areas. I can only imagine the living room with the vaulted ceiling is intended to be the formal living room, and the area of that room closest to the kitchen is supposedly the formal dining area. Bah! It’s completely useless to me. We had the changing table set up there for the first half of the year. A diaper changing room. That’s what it was. The real dining room is tiny, just off the kitchen on the opposite side of the formal dining area. Adjacent to that is the real living room. Where we hang out. I’d much rather have one large living room, and one large dining room. We don’t have the sort of lifestyle where we roam from room to room. I digress. With all these rooms, one would think we would have room (ha!) for a tree. Alas, such is not the case. This year the tree is relegated to the corner of the dining room. The real dining room. That we don’t use. Yes, we are pitiful. We eat in the kitchen, seated at the island. Or… Seated on the couch. Yes, it’s true. All is not lost though. I plan to start a family dining tradition, where we sit down to eat as a family, in the dining room, at the dining table, at the same time. It doesn’t work with our current schedule though. There’s no telling when Mr. Squished will return home from work on any given day. Hopefully the dining tradition will fare better than my Christmas gift tradition. Our first year of marriage, I suggested that Mr. Squished and I make each other an ornament for the tree, and do it every year. I thought it would be a nice gift. Something that someone put some thought and effort into. He said he thought that was a nice idea. Christmas arrived. He opened his special gift. A red velvet box with a picture of the happy Squished newlyweds in their I Do kiss emerging from a fluffy nest of tulle. A white satin button (from the gown, of course) attached to the corner of the box, for the ornament hook. Awwwww. Isn’t that sweet I waited for my special gift. I would have loved it, even if it was a screwdriver with a ribbon through the handle, tied in a bow. But. He forgot.