half-baked ideas

Before I forget, I must quickly interject this footnote re: Christmas baking. For some reason, I felt kick-started into a season of flurried activity in yon kitchen. Here’s a synopsis:

• Dec 18 – baked Company’s Coming Banana Muffins, added walnuts (ran out of all-purpose flour, substituted ½ whole wheat flour, and the experiment actually worked!)
• Dec 19 – baked Ellen’s* Chocolate Chip Cookies & Oatmeal Thumbprint Cookies
• Dec 20 – made Foolproof Chocolate Fudge (with chopped pecans) for James’s potluck at work
  
• Dec 21 – baked Robin Hood's Chunky Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies (they're OK, not stupendous)
• Dec 23 – baked Walnut Slice (from the Mennonite Treasury of Recipes)
• Dec 24 – finished making the New York Delights I started Sunday (messy things – I discovered I much prefer to eat them frozen)

The "best of the fest"? Ellen’s Chocolate Chip cookies and the Walnut Slice.

Thus ends my holiday baking spree—unless I mix up another batch of fudge or succumb to the temptation to make brownies with mocha icing.


*Kornelsen, not DeGeneres

Boxing Day

Will wonders never cease?! James and I actually braved the traffic along Merivale this afternoon to stop in at Best Buy, Linens ’n’ Things, EB Games, Independent Grocer, and Zellers. We weren’t on a quest for anything in particular, and it’s not like there was money burning a hole in our pockets, but we thought of it as our great BOXING DAY SALE ADVENTURE (that’s right, in caps like that). Best Buy, our first destination, was the craziest place. Back when I was still quite young, I thought that Boxing Day was so named in honor of prize fighters: I imagined them squaring off in the ring every Dec 26 for the World Heavyweight title, delivering flying dropkicks, piledrivers, and Indian deathlocks. (I was better acquainted with AWA wrestling than with boxing.) Actually, I was not so far off. Nobody in Best Buy was throwing punches, true, but it certainly smelled like a gym. It’s hard to say if the sweatiness cloying the air came from the anxious, deal-hound customers who had hiked in from the far reaches of the parking lot, or from the exhausted employees who had been at their stations since at least 6am for Boxing Day Blowout madness. It wasn’t a complete loss: we had to walk around the block for parking, so we exercised off some of the Christmas goodies we’ve indulged in, and I did acquire a lovely artificial burgundy poinsettia for $3 from LNT, a tea ball (for making soup) from Zellers, and some groceries. The best part is that I’m still at home until Jan 7. Woohoo!

Christmas Day

I slept in and woke to glorious sunshine! After snow last week, rain on Sunday, and a bit of a thaw the last few days, sun was welcome. Too bad it was so short-lived: by about 2 o’clock this afternoon the sky reverted to a light gray again. Winnipeg gets more winter sun than Ottawa. (It’s not just my imagination; Environment Canada released a study on this phenomenon.)

Today’s highlights included:

• a Christmas telephone call from Celina & Duane
• a walk around the neighborhood (only Shoppers, Starbucks, and the Shawarma place were open for business)
• an e-mail from Mom & Dad
• a holiday message from Chelsea
• a Christmas card & letter from Lon & Pat
• a Christmas photo card from the Waldners
• a first letter from Juanita in Mexico (Compassion child)

Note: Canada Post did not deliver today; we simply forgot to check our superbox yesterday.

Thanks to everyone for all the Christmas greetings! Considering that I’ve missed the sleigh re: cards yet once more (oh, I bought them, all right, I just didn't write them out & address them & send them), I’ve been pleasantly surprised that we’ve received 16 photos/cards. Only one was from “people I don’t even know”: nope, not from Glen Campbell, but the Minto Homes staff. About that one I’m feeling a bit indifferent (I’ve never met the signees); all the others, however, have brought us joy and dressed up our mantle. Tidings of great joy & blessings to you!

O Tannenbaum

Christmas Eve and we are still virtually decorationless (except for the Cranberry soap and the Christmas cards on the mantle) and quite positively treeless. Perhaps it’s just as well. Jeff Hutchison, my favorite Canada AM weatherman (as opposed to Sylvia Kuzyk and that turncoat “Captain” John Sauder, my former favorite pair of CTV Winnipeg meteorologists), recently displayed a few pictures sent in by cat owners of their pets firmly ensconced in Christmas trees. I shudder to think.

Also, it gave me pause to think when a friend inquired about the spiritual significance of Christmas trees: there’s nothing of which I’m aware. Dan Gardner of the Citizen (a crotchety, self-acknowledged atheist) attributes it to the Norse, but Wikipedia suggests the Christmas tree is a more convoluted tradition. All I know is that I was 10 years old before we got a Christmas tree, and it was terribly exciting to see the end product, assembled and covered in lights, garland, and tinsel (back when tinsel was the last word in decorating). Even tonight I walked around the neighborhood, and seeing each lit tree produced a shivery thrill of delight. However, I’ve always felt miserably saddened when taking down the tree, so it’s just as well that I don’t have that task to weigh me down. Besides, where would I store it?! I’m forever trying to cut down on “stuff.”

Still, if I get really, really brave, or really, really motivated, I might venture out on Boxing Day, to scope out the sales. Of course, I’ve said that many years in a row, and have yet to act on it. The crush of shoppers on the lookout for deals in the wee hours of the early morning proves a temptation not strong enough to lure me out of my slumber come Dec 26.

So...Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!

silent night

James and I celebrated Christmas today. Although in the past our Christmas dinners have often featured store-made lasagna, this year I decided to go the more traditional route: I bought turkey breasts (’cause we both prefer white meat), Stove Top stuffing, and gravy mix, and made mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus. For dessert, we had cookies (Christmas baking details forthcoming). We listened to Christmas carols old and new, read the Christmas story, exchanged gifts, and watched The Grinch and Merry Christmas, Mr. Bean on CBC. Very low key, very cozy. (btw, I recently saw ads for Cozzy Coverings, an Ottawa retailer of bedding, blinds, and drapes. My first reaction was, “Did they intentionally or unintentionally misspell ‘cozy’?”)

We miss celebrating with family; however, the cost for both of us to fly back over the holidays was too steep for two people who recently moved, bought a house, and furnished aforesaid house. Of course, I was fortunate enough to enjoy an early Christmas with my family near the beginning of December, although I didn’t nearly get to see all the friends I wanted to see while I was out there. On the other hand, most Christmases we’re driving between Rosenort and Dauphin, trying to squeeze in as many family and extended family gatherings as we can. So we’ve been looking forward to some down time to play video games, do Sudoku puzzles, reconfigure electronic thingies, watch movies, read, write, and bake. (Can you guess who’s doing what?) And we’re still plugging away, approximately one episode a day, at Alias; we’re close to finishing Season 4. (I’ve actually ‘cheated’ and read the plot summaries for the remaining episodes on the show’s Web site. Actually, I’m not convinced it’s cheating, seeing as how the show ended in 2006.) All in all, it’s rather nice to have no set agenda right now.

Well, I'm off to "sleep in heavenly peace," thanks to our new bedding ensemble, a Christmas present. (Thanks, Mom & Dad!)

’s no business like snow business

Apparently at 1:08 a.m., autumn officially ended and winter officially began. I say it doesn’t take a solstice: with all the snow Ottawa has been getting, it already felt like winter. It has snowed every day from Dec 16 to 20. I can’t tell you the number of people who have shared with me that last year Ottawans experienced a green Christmas Eve. Since we weren’t here at that time, these confidences have not been the great consolation that these individuals might have supposed. Sunday, Dec 16 was the worst: James was going to borrow Dave’s snow blower, but the guys couldn’t fit the machine into the back of our vehicle (I’d had my doubts about that, anyway). The two of them cleared the driveway of the knee-deep white stuff, and then watched a movie; by the time the movie ended, they had to give the driveway another once-over. The stretch of lawn between our driveway and that of our neighbors to the north is heaped high—it’s well over my head, which made it quite a challenge yesterday to shovel out the hardening chunks left at the end of the driveway by the city’s plow. It’s also making it extremely difficult to see the street as we back out of our driveway: it’s not just the vehicles going by we have to watch for, but the cars parked along the street. You see, they send the little plow to clear the sidewalks, but it, too, leaves piles of snow. Essentially, walking down the sidewalk is now like picking one’s way through a mountain pass, foothills on one side, Rockies on the other.

All the shovelling condensed into such a short time frame was enough to make me wish that I had signed up for Tony’s grammatically incorrect services when I had the chance…until I read today’s Ottawa Citizen. The “City” section, Section E, p. 1, ran the headline, “Bylaw order stops snow contractor cold” with the cross heading, “Owner of Tony’s Snow Blowing ordered to appear at Jan. 21 hearing as officers look at yanking suspended licence for good.” According to journalist Kate Scroggins, Tony’s “left more than 14,000 driveways unplowed following last weekend’s record snowfall.” She quotes Tony as “citing brake problems on 13 of his 17 tractors,” blaming the equipment manufacturers, and claiming, “’It’s not my fault the brakes don’t work.’” Thirteen out of seventeen is not a great track record. I feel sorry for all those people who “payed” in advance. Faulty brakes would increase the likelihood of the “possibility of sliding into the house with our equipment,” one would presume.

Update:
I did not have a chance to read the Dec 21 issue of our community paper, the Barrhaven Independent (published every Friday), until today, Dec 24. The second story on the front page appears under the headline, “Snow blower leaves residents in the cold,” and begins with the sentence, “Another year, another excuse.” Steph Willems reports that last January, Tony “failed to show up at clients’ houses after the first three snowfalls of the year,” as a result of the equipment having been “damaged by vandals” (so said Tony). The year before that, the company “had its membership revoked after similar complaints.” The Ottawa Police Service is now investigating. I wonder if Tony has asked Santa for new equipment—or maybe a new job.

A note of thanks to Steph Willems, who specified that Ottawa received “a record-breaking” 37 cm of snow Dec 16. (I remember hearing it was to be between 30-40 cm, but wasn’t sure of the exact amount.)

the goose is getting fat

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat
Please to put a penny in an old man's hat
If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do,
If you haven't got a ha' penny, God bless you

Notes:
1. ha’penny = ellision of halfpenny (It’s an English song)
2. the ambiguity of "then God bless you":
a) if you haven’t got a ha’penny, you must be worse off than the old man, so you’re in need of God’s blessing;
b) a statement meant to make you feel guilty because you’re being blessed anyway, even though you’re not sparing even a ha’penny

This song comes to you courtesy of Miss Bazak’s grade four class of 1977. I believe I could recount pretty much every song we learned in music class that year. It’s quite possible that it is forever imprinted in my memory, folksy songs domestic and foreign, such as:

“Land of the Silver Birch” (the one with the drums)

Land of the silver birch, home of the beaver,
Where still the mighty moose wanders at will,
Blue lake and rocky shore, I will return once more,
Boom-da-da-boom-boom, Boom-da-da-boom-boom,
Boom-da-da-boom-boom-boom…
Boom boom


(the one about the goat)
One day a goat was feeling fine,
Ate three red shirts right off the line,
Jack took a stick, gave him a whack,
And tied him on a railroad track.
Sing adios! But not good-bye,
That goat was down, but not to die
He gave one yell, as though in pain,
Coughed up those shirts, and flagged the train!

(I had to do a quick Google search for everything but the first line and final couplet; I had no idea there were so many variations! Sometimes it’s Bill’s goat, sometimes Jack’s; sometimes it’s two shirts, sometimes three. Poor old goat.)


“Ting-a-lay-o” (the one about the donkey)

Ting-a-lay-o, come, little donkey, come,
Ting-a-lay-o, come, little donkey, come.

My donkey eat, my donkey sleep,
My donkey kick with his two hind feet,
Ting-a-lay-o, come little donkey, come,
Ting-a-lay-o, come, little donkey, come.

My donkey walk, my donkey talk,
My donkey eat with a knife and fork,
Ting-a-lay-o, come little donkey, come,
Ting-a-lay-o, come, little donkey, come.

(That was the version we learned, but here’s an extended one.)

They could almost fill a K-Tel “greatest hits of grade 4” collection. Or maybe they should be combined with the ones I remember from Mrs. Piché’s grade 5 music instruction: “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown,” and the one whose title I don’t remember, but the words are, “A nice young ma-wa-wan lived on a hi-wi-will, a nice young ma-wa-wan, for I knew him we-we-well. To ma rattle to ma roo ra ree.” (That's a right cheery one, about a man who dies of a snake bite.)

Well, we made it through November, and Christmas is coming, and the goose is getting fat. This goose certainly is, at any rate. We haven’t even entered Christmas celebrations proper yet, and I may already have consumed my own weight in chocolate. Woe is me. Sears had a sale on their Lindt chocolate a few weeks ago – thus began the difficulty. (Thanks, Perry, for reminding me how good Lindt Swiss milk chocolate can be.) The trouble with the Lindt bars was compounded by the fact that I made fudge for Jason’s Grey Cup party held at Barry’s place (that's an anecdotal footnote in itself). OK, technically I wouldn’t have had to eat any myself, right, but I felt I owed it to Jason or Barry or whoever ultimately organized the event, to do some sampling – strictly for quality assurance purposes, understand.

Anyway, I’ve been reading friends’ blog posts about Christmas preparations, and I am truly put to shame. Dec 1 is the day that CFAM traditionally used to begin broadcasting Christmas carols—although perhaps they’ve given in like everybody else and now begin to play them right after Halloween. I haven’t even listened to my Elvis Christmas collection yet. (I’m not 100% certain I know where it is in my office jumble, but that’s beside the point.)

Well, I do have good – not great – intentions. Truth be told, however, the only decorating I’ve done this far is limited to the main floor powder room. I splurged on a dispenser of Body Shop Cranberry liquid hand soap (“sweet, fruity, and festive” proclaims its label). I think $12 is a ridiculous price. I could buy 6 Ivory liquid hand soap dispensers for that price, or 4 refill-sized bottles. Yet the sales guy was rakishly handsome in a young skateboarding dude kind of way, with longish bangs. He was very smooth, very subtle: no high-pressure sales techniques with him. He agreed with my assessment that $12 was pricey. He appealed to my feminine side which likes to indulge in frivolities by suggesting that one needs to spoil oneself every once in a while. He offered that I could test it over at their makeshift sink. (Hey, he had me at the agreeing part!) The guy is probably a psychology major—or a conflict resolution practitioner.

I should mention that there actually was a second perfectly legitimate reason why I wanted a new hand soap for the main floor washroom. The sink is rounded—I’ve never seen a pedestal sink quite so voluptuous (as sinks go)—and the soap ledge curves downwards rather sharply, so that my usual liquid soap bottle is prone to tip over.

So that’s all for decorating so far. Oh, wait, I’m using a forest green towel to contrast with the deep claret of the cranberry soap. Might get a tree when I return from my Winnipeg visit. I’m thinking the cats will try to climb it, shred it, eat it, or all three—but maybe not. I’ve done a practice run of lights on our silk ficus trees the last two years in the apartment, and that doesn’t seem to have troubled them. I’ll have to scope out the sales upon my return.