Beating Post-Holiday Feast Blahs

Gentle Reader, do you ever find yourself a bit depressed when considering what to eat or prepare to eat following some big celebration, such as a holiday feast or special birthday meal? I'm not sure if the depression stems from the prospect of going back to the "usual" meals and foods or if it stems more from the realization that some special time has come and gone and you're back to the hum-drum of life.

Anywho, I found myself yesterday trying to figure out what to have for supper for a Friday night after a week of out-of-the-ordinary mealtimes. (For example, we had burritos on Monday, not on Wednesday, which is a huge change for us here at Chez Boeckman-Walker. And we went out to eat in the middle of the week. In the middle of the week!) I wasn't keen on making some chicken dish, and I wasn't ready to do leftovers. I wanted to make something, but I wasn't ready to commit to a huge production. After all, we had a run to HPB (20% Off Sale!) and HEB planned for the late afternoon, and those trips would cut into my prep and cooking time.

I then opened the spice/drug cabinet, and my eyes fell upon the cannister of Potlatch Seasoning the husband and I bought...gads, three or four years ago at Williams-Sonoma. I'd never opened it and distinctly recall shoving it in a bowl along with some other spice cabinet items we never used that I then shoved in a cabinet under the microwave where I store things I rarely use. I only rediscovered that bowl and the fish rub, and yesterday I thought to myself, Hell, I have all those basa fillets in the freezer, and I'm sure they're good for more than just fish tacos. And voila! I had the protein portion of Friday night's meal chosen.

But what to accompany the fish? The Potlatch Seasoning is a bit spicy with its crushed red pepper and chili pepper, but that wasn't inspiring me terribly. I didn't want to do rice because, quite frankly, I was all riced out after eating it three out of the four weekdays that had passed thus far. My thoughts turned to veggies, but I have to be careful when it comes to veggies or else I'll wind up with something neither of the boys will eat.

So what's a faudie to do? She opens up a cookbook or four and looks for inspiration.

Broccoli on the Brain
As I hunkered down in front of my cookbook shelf in the kitchen, I eyeballed Madhur Jaffrey's World Vegetarian. Ms. Jaffrey had been on my mind because my 'rents-in-law had kindly given me her memoir for Christmas (and plan to start on it once I finish Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America, which is a great book I'll post about at some point, I'm sure). So off the shelf came World Vegetarian.

Why I had a desire to make something with broccoli I'm not sure. Perhaps because HEB's running it on sale this week. Perhaps because I'm fairly sure the boys will eat a decently sized portion of it when I prepare it. Of course, I've only prepared it with giant pasta shells, chicken, some ricotta and some spices, so how could I know that they'd eat it prepared a different way? Moreover, I didn't even have any brocc on hand, and I'm not keen on making a recipe these days if I don't already have the ingredients.

In the pages of World Vegetarian, I found a recipe for broccoli with potatoes. "How pedestrian and...American!" you might be saying to yourself right about now, Gentle Reader, right? Well, you'd be wrong. Jaffrey's recipe calls for two small potatoes or one waxy potato, asafetida, brown or yellow mustard seeds, a hot green chile, fresh curry leaves and amchar masala. Not exactly typical American fare, wouldn't you agree? And aside from not having brocc and fresh curry leaves (I have dry ones), I had everything I needed for this recipe and was entirely intrigued to know what the final product tasted like. So onto the HEB list went broccoli.

Broccoli With Potatoes6 C broccoli florets
NaCl
1 waxy potato (8 oz.) or 2 smaller ones, boiled, drained and cooled
3 T peanut or canola oil
Generous pinch of ground asafetida
1/2 t whole brown or yellow mustard seeds
1 fresh hot green chile, its tip cut off
10 fresh curry leaves (use fresh basil leaves as a different but interesting substitute)
1 t amchar masala

1. Blanch the broccoli florets in salted water. Drain and refresh under cold water if not cooking immediately. Leave in colander.
   
2. Peel the potato and cut into chunky dice about the same size as the florets.
   
3. Just before eating, put the oil in a large, preferably nonstick frying pan or saute pan and set over medium-high heat. When hot, add the asafetida and, a second later, the mustard seeds.
   
4. As soon as the mustard seeds begin to pop [And get all over the frickin' place! -Ed.], put in the green chile and curry leaves. Stir once then put in the potatoes. Stir and fry for about 4 min. or until the potatoes are very lightly browned.
   
5. Sprinkle the pan's contents with a scant 1/2 teaspoon of salt, then toss to mix.
   
6. Add the broccoli and amchar masala, turn the heat to medium and stir 1-2 min. or until the broccoli has heated through.
   
7. Turn off the heat and serve.

Yield: 4 servings of indeterminate size

Nutritional Info
Ms. Jaffrey doesn't include nutritional info for her recipes. Ah well.

The Faudie's Futzings

• I used two smallish red potatoes that were about a month old. They were a little soft and sprouting, but I think they did just fine.
  
• I used olive oil instead of canola oil, and I didn't use anywhere close to 3 tablespoons. Maybe a tablespoon, but no more than that.
  
• Even though I had dried curry leaves and could have bought fresh basil at HEB beforehand, I didn't add this ingredient. Did that screw me over in the flavor department? I don't know. I've never worked with fresh curry leaves before, and I'm not a big fan of basil. Guess I'll have to make the recipe again with some sort of fresh leaf ingredient and find out!

I think I might have screwed up minorly by peeling and cubing the potatoes before boiling them, but they didn't exactly turn to mush either then or when I put them in the pan to stir fry. But that might be the reason why they didn't exactly brown when they were in my stir-fry pan. They just...got a little greasy. But they were tasty!

Speaking of tasty, the dish went over really well with the boys. And I didn't have to spend too much time cleaning popped-out mustard seeds out of all of Lumpy's crevices and crannies. Woohoo!

And That's a Wrap!

Woohoo! It's over! It's done and gone! Hooray! Bring on the January white sales!

Am I that crass? Perhaps. But it's nice to reflect on the big day and recall those moments when you really, really remember what the holidays are all about. Take a look at these mugs and tell me if you don't see a little bit of joy there.

As a kindness to you, Gentle Reader, I'm not going to give you a blow-by-blow rundown of the final three days of Pancha Ganapati here at Chez Boeckman-Walker. Do know that on the 23rd, the boy (with a lot of help from his old mum) built and decorated a gingerbread holiday tree. On the evening of the 24th, the three human residents headed to Indian Palace for an entirely too fabulous meal, then zipped down Mopac to go spin (and try not to hurl) under the Zilker Park tree.*

Bright and early on the 25th (we had to hang a sign in the boy's room reminding him he was not to leave it until 7 AM--and he by and large complied, so there's you a Christmas miracle, Charlie Brown), we gave Ganesh his final offering, draped him in his final stole, had some breakfast then enjoyed the wonderful gifts our families had sent us. In the afternoon, we took our annual death march around Town Lake Lady Bird Lake as the sun finally showed itself, then we came home to kickbox before whipping up a batch of our favorite Canadian curry. Yum!

All in all, our holiday was quite fun. Hope yours was the same!


*Now that we've spun under the Zilker Park tree and ran in a fun run, we can at last call ourselves true Austinoids. Umm, hooray?

Grateful Ganesh

As part of our Pancha Ganapati celebrations, the human residents of Chez Boeckman-Walker have written "Grateful Ganesh" letters to express our gratitude for the many blessings the universe bestowed on us in 2008. My letter appears below.

Om Gam Ganapataye Namah!
The universe has seen fit to grant me a multitude of blessings again this year, and I recall them with a grateful heart.

I am grateful for each breath I take and for each beat of my heart. Living is itself a blessing that I should never take for granted.

I am grateful for my continued health and the lasting health of my family. I am overjoyed that my husband has recovered so well from his surgeries and that his breathing and sleeping have improved tremendously, leading to a much higher quality of life (and sleep!) for us both. The experience of getting to the surgeries and waiting through them was a test of my patience, and I continue to learn from it.

I am grateful that I have been able to run and experience the power and endurance of my body. I am grateful to all those people who have helped me improve my body, including everyone at the Center for Medical Weight Loss, who offered support and enthusiasm over the weeks and months; my dear friend Jackie, for inspiring and challenging me each Tuesday I join her for a little Spin; those folks at the gym who approached me to let me know how inspired they are by my own transformation--you inspire me to keep going as much as I might inspire you on your own journeys; my e-mail friends and family, who celebrated with me each milestone in my weight loss; and, most of all, my husband, for giving me the space and opportunity to make this journey and to continue on that path to better nutrition and health.

My husband is perhaps the greatest blessing the universe has found fit to offer me, and I'll be forever and profoundly grateful for his presence in my life, for his love and support, for his inspiration and for all the millions of things he gives me. His generous agreement this year to bear the burden of providing the bulk of the family's monetary support while I pursue a career as a freelance writer and editor/gym rat/hausfrau/faudie/mom is perhaps something I will never be able to repay in kind, but I will continue to try to provide some kind of contribution to the family in return and never take for granted this opportunity he has enabled me to have.

I am grateful for the joy--and the anguish--my son brings to my life. Watching him grow and learn and become his own person is a marvel, and I am in no small way privileged to witness this process and to even attempt to offer some guidance to him on his journey to adulthood. I know I am not as patient, loving and understanding as I could be when dealing with him, and I will continue to work to be the mother to my son that I want to be, for I do want him to know how blessed I feel for having him in my life.

I am grateful for all the opportunities I've had to learn new skills and to expand my own knowledge and understanding. I appreciate the patience and willingness of my teachers to answer my questions and share their experiences with me. I hope to give back some small bit of my own knowledge to the great collective whole.

Lastly, I am grateful for my extended family, who have all shown me and my family a tremendous amount of kindness and love this year. Deepest gratitude to my parents, for supporting me even though I am much too old to be a worry to them; to my sisters, for sharing with me a past full of wonderful and wonderfully dysfunctional moments and for helping me feel still connected to the kid I once was; to my husband's parents, for their unquestioning support even though my insecurities and asocial tendencies make me the worst of daughter-in-laws; to Melissa, for being incredibly willing to answer my zillions of crazy questions about all things culinary, for sharing her experiences and adventures, for inspiring me to share my own and for being willing to sacrifice her husband to my kiddo's crazed need for a lightsaber dueling partner; to Coweta and Sister JoAnn and Sister Mary Ann for being wonderful, loving surrogate great grandmas to my son; and to my feline kiddos, who offer me warmth (even when the last thing I want is a furry, heat-generating weight on my ankle, knee or hip in the middle of night), companionship, laughs, groans and largely unconditional love (provided I keep putting food in their bowls) without too much complaint.

For all these reasons and many, many more, I am eternally grateful. May the universe see fit to continue to bring breath into my body, ideas into my brain, love into my heart and inspiration into my soul!

Om Gam Ganapataye Namah!

My sincerest gratitude to you, Gentle Reader. May the universe continue to bring a multitude of blessings to you now and throughout your life.

Season's Greetings!

We're cheap--no holiday cards sent via the post office this year. Instead, we're torturing you with one of them high-techie Internet video cards. Oh yeah, that high-techie Internet video card features the boy--that's the real torture!

Happy holidays, Gentle Reader!

Culinary Misadventures--Holiday Edition

I'm appalled, Gentle Reader, by how long it's been since I added a food-related post. Then again, I haven't been doing much experimenting in the kitchen lately, but the onslaught of the holidays has changed that.

Oh Fudge!
A few weeks ago, I received a light cranberry-walnut fudge recipe from the weekly "Light Dessert of the Week" email I've subscribed to from TasteofHome.com. (If you're looking for low-fat, low-calorie dessert recipes, I recommend signing up for it.) I'm not a fan of walnuts, nor can I say I'm a fan of cranberries, and I hadn't planned to make fudge this year, but the recipe just seemed too easy and its nutritional content seemed, well, doable for me, so I thought I'd give it a shot. The yield was also a good fit with my plans to give some folks (my massage therapist, who keeps me running along with the nice front desk guy at the gym who greets me every morning and our neighbors, who've given us a small means of appearing not be total asocial assholes) small tokens of my gratitude and appreciate this holiday season.

Cranberry Fudge2 C (12 oz.) semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 C light corn syrup
1/2 C confectioners' sugar
1/4 C reduced-fat evaporated milk
1 t vanilla extract
1 package (6 oz.) dried cranberries
1/3 C chopped walnuts

1. Line a 9" square pan with foil. Coat the foil with cooking spray, then set aside.
   
2. In a saucepan, combine the chocolate chips and corn syrup. Cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until the chips are melted. Remove from heat.
   
3. Stir in the confectioners' sugar, milk and vanilla. Beat with a wooden spoon until thickened and glossy (about 5 min.).
   
4. Stir in the cranberries and walnuts.
   
5. Spread the goo into the pan, then refrigerate until the fudge is firm.
   
6. To cut, grasp the foil liner, lift the fudge from the pan, then discard the foil. Cut the fudge into 1" squares and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Yield: 81 servings

Nutritional Info
I'm not sure how entirely accurate this info is. Those nuts have some protein, I'm sure, as does the evaporate milk, I suspect. Nevertheless, here's what the recipe shows:

Calories: 36
Fat: 2 g
Sat fat: 1 g
Na: 3 mg
Carbs: 6 g
Fiber: 0 g
Protein: 0 g

The Faudie's Futzings
I used fat-free evaporated milk because I don't think a reduced-fat variety is available. At least I've only ever seen regular and fat-free varieties.

(Speaking of which, what ever happened to Milnot? I grew up knowing Milnot, not evaporated milk, but I can't find it around here. PET, sure. Carnation, you bet. Milnot? Nope.)

I also didn't use a wooden spoon to beat up my fudge to make it thick and glossy. I achieved thick and glossy using my favorite silicon rubber scraper/spoon thing, which I used so I wouldn't lose too much of the stuff to stickage to utensils. A nonstick saucepan helps with that too. I hate waste and I hate the temptation of cleaning up (i.e., licking out) bowls, spoons, etc. after the cooking's done.

Oh, and I didn't have enough walnuts on hand, so I used pecans. I honestly don't taste too much of a difference between those two types of nuts, and I don't have quite the near-anaphylactic reaction to walnuts that I have to pecans, so I figured the presence of pecans was a bonus deterrent for me!

But I was wrong. This fudge is damn tasty and waaaay too simple to make.

And, as I discovered the day after making my first batch of this recipe, damn easy to modify. I was struck by inspiration, Gentle Reader, and futzed with the original to create my own peppermint fudge recipe.

The Faudie's Quick and Easy Peppermint Fudge2 C (12 oz.) semisweet chocolate chips
1/4 C light corn syrup
1/2 C confectioners' sugar
1/4 C reduced-fat evaporated milk
1 t peppermint extract
1/3 to 1/2 C crushed peppermint candy pieces
Additional crushed peppermint candy pieces for topping

1. Line a 9" square pan with foil. Coat the foil with cooking spray, then set aside.
   
2. In a saucepan, combine the chocolate chips and corn syrup. Cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until the chips are melted. Remove from heat.
   
3. Stir in the confectioners' sugar, milk and peppermint extract. Beat until thicken and glossy (about 5 min.).
   
4. Stir in the peppermint pieces.
   
5. Spread the goo into the pan and sprinkle with leftover peppermint candy pieces, if so desired. Refrigerate until the fudge is firm.
   
6. To cut, grasp the foil liner, lift the fudge from the pan, then discard the foil. Cut the fudge into 1" squares and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Yield: 81 servings

As you can see from the recipe, I didn't include any nuts because, well, I don't like them that much, I wasn't sure what nut might go well with peppermint and I didn't want some nut detracting from the peppermint. Chocolate and peppermint is a winning combination, if you ask me, and I don't like anything competing for my taste buds' attention when I'm eating them paired up.

That said, if you want to throw in some nuts, go for it. I was thinking the other day that slivered almonds might be a nice addition. I don't mind almonds. I like cashews too, but I think they'd be too...oily? Rich?

The sprinkling of peppermint pieces on top is completely optional. I crunched up some leftover peppermint ribbon candy the boy received once (and soon thereafter forgot about--that's just the way he is), and I wasn't sure how strongly it might contribute to the peppermint flavor when I stirred it into the fudge itself. Plus I was concerned that I hadn't added enough when I stirred in the third-cup and a handful more: I wanted eaters to know they were consuming fudge with peppermint pieces inside, and I was concerned the fudge's thickness was concealing the pieces. So I threw some on top to better communicate to eaters that the fudge had peppermint pieces inside. Makes perfect sense, right?

Once I started cutting up the fudge, I realized that the pieces I'd stirred in were indeed large enough to be detected. Was the garnish all for naught? No, not if you ask me. I think the sprinkling adds a little bit extra visual stimulation. Plus I got rid of more candy, and I'm always glad to use ingredients instead of trashing them. That's wasteful, and I don't like waste.


A Cherished Childhood Memory Revisited
When I was in the first or second grade (pretty sure it was the second grade), the denizens of Aline-Cleo Elementary School contributed recipes (two apiece) for a cookbook that kids could then present to parents for Christmas. I seem to recall my elder sister contributed Mum's recipe for Parker house rolls (a family favorite that she made all too seldom for our tastes), but I can't for the life of me remember what I added. Mum's chocolate sheet cake recipe? Maybe. Or maybe it was the recipe for her no-bake cookies.

Anywho, I seem to recall finding in that book a recipe for cornflakes and marshmallow holly treats that we made that Christmas. Or maybe Mum found the recipe through some other means--I can't honestly say for sure, but in my memory*, the making 'o the cookbook and the making 'o the cornflakes and marshmallow holly treats are somehow connected.

The reason these treats stand out in my memory is that I grew up in a household free of Rice Krispies treats. Mum never made them. Marshmallow creme was reserved for fudge, and marshmallows were for the whipped cream and marshmallow salad she made for Turkey Day and Christmas. (To this day, nothing beats a chunk of pineapple coated in whipped cream made from whipping cream--no Cool Whip crap, thank you very much.) And we just didn't eat Rice Krispies either. But combining corn flakes with marshmallow was close enough to Rice Krispies, and adding green food color to the mix was just...well, pure bliss for a seemingly deprived kid.

Flash forward a quarter-century or so later, and you'll find The Faudie with a box of generic corn flakes that's less than half full and facing two weeks of being stuck with a kiddo who's out of school for the holidays. What does she do, Gentle Reader? She tracks down the recipe for the cornflake and marshmallow holly treats and decides to try to give her own kid a special memory.

I already had some cinnamon imperials (left over from the cake I made for the boy's birthday in February), but I was a little low on marshmallows (although I recalled the recipe that Mum had used marshmallow creme, but perhaps she, being far more experienced and wiser about ingredient substitutions, replaced the marshmallows that recipe might have called for with marshmallow creme). Finding a recipe was easy enough. I actually found too many of them, but I settled on one I thought the boy and I could manage. Some of the recipes I found online called for shaping the final product into wreaths, which I don't recall in the recipe Mum and I used waaay back when. Back then, we just made things that sorta looked like holly boughs. But, hey, we're all modern and shit, so why not try to shape them?

Christmas Holly Treats44 large marshmallows
1 stick of butter
1 1/2 t green food coloring
1 t vanilla
4 C corn flakes

1. Melt the marshmallows and butter in a saucepan over low heat.
   
2. Add the food coloring and vanilla.
   
3. Fold in the corn flakes.
   
4. Use a spoon to drop the holly on a greased cookie sheet. Add a few red hot candies to each holly leaf.

Yield: 30 to 36, depending on how your holly grows

Nutritional Info
Sorry, the recipe did not include nutritional info. They're not the best things you can eat, nor are they the worst.

The Faudie's Futzings
I changed all of two things in this recipe:

• I used light Blue Bonnet.
  
• I only used one teaspoon of green food coloring because, damn, 1.5 teaspoons is a hell of a lot of food coloring.

I don't know if the use of the light butter screwed me over or if the age of my corn flakes (I bought the box in late spring or early summer and didn't have them in a Ziplock), but these things are chewy in a bad way, if you know what I mean. I recall those treats from waaay back being more crisp and sweeter too (see footnote).

And sticky...but not sticky. When we started out, I told the boys they could shape the wreaths and had them spray their hands with nonstick cooking spray to prevent the green flakes from sticking to their hands as they worked. Well, that was all for naught, for when I attempted to demonstrate how to shape a ball of green marshmallow and flake goo into a wreath, the damn stuff just fell apart. So I just put globs of the stuff on two cookie sheets draped with wax paper, and then the boys placed the cinnamon imperials on top to complete the holly bough effect.

Last But Not Least....

Would it be the holidays without some chocolate-dipped pretzels? I think that's the universe's answer to no-brainer gifts to relatives or friends who live some distance away whom you don't want to clutter with crap they don't need. Not that anyone really needs chocolate-dipped pretzels, but they exist anyway.

This year, the boy helped me make some for his teacher. Not that the boy doesn't care for his teacher a lot. I thought the pretzels would be something nice he could give her (in addition to the snowman's head mug we'd acquired at Bath & Body Works) that he could actually help make. And the boy loves sprinkles.


And here they are in all their chocolate-coated, sprinkled glory. The boy's sprinkling skills are not as mad as his piping skills, but that's fine. It's the thought that counts, plus I didn't have to yell at him not to touch the pretzels after his hands had been down his pants, up his nose, all over the cats, etc. That's what really counts this time of year--and all year at that.

*As I write this post, my memory dredges up something that makes me think perhaps we found the recipe on the back of a box of Frosted Flakes, which is one of the few cereals Mum bought for us every now and then. Perhaps that explains why I remember the holly treats being sweeter and crunchier than how our treats turned out here in 2008. Gotta love a good shellac on a cereal flake, right? Hmmm....

Happy Solstice!

Hooray for the shortest day of the year! Light your candles, celebrate the light for it's a'coming back before ya know it.

Yeah, that's right, Gentle Reader--we'll be back on Daylight Savings Time in a matter of weeks.

(Yes, I know that's not true, but the switch will be here before you know it.)

The winter solstice also marks the beginning of Pancha Ganapati, so everyone here at Chez Boeckman-Walker is abuzz. Blame Ganesh--he's all about the sweets and the candy and the buzz.

A Home for an Elephant God
I shared yesterday with you, Gentle Reader, a chapter in the tale of this year's gingerbread shrine for Ganesh to reside in during this five-day celebration of the five-faced elephant god. Well, I have the second and final chapter to share with you today. Instead of making you read, I'm just going to show you some photos. Enjoy!

I was busy in the kitchen while the boys decorated Ganesh's temporary domicile. I suspect next year I'll have to enter the boy in the Texas Culinary Academy's annual gingerbread house competition--he's got some mad gingerbread skills. Watch out, Food Network Challenge, because my kiddo'll be ready for ya before ya know it!

What Ganesh would think of his shrine is anyone's guess. He'd probably condemn it because the walls appear like they might collapse at any moment. Oh well....

Day One of Pancha Ganapati
We kicked off the first day of Pancha Ganapati with the fun of laundry, breakfast and the perusal of the weekly ads. But then we here at Chez Boeckman-Walker kicked the celebration into high gear by getting our acts together to decorate the holiday tree.

Last year, World Market kindly had a load of ornaments from India, so we scored a gaggle of elephant and even Ganesh ornaments, along with some other nifty, nice ones. Not all of those ornaments survived last year's celebrations (we do have one rambunctious boy and one rambunctious cat in da house, after all), but we still had a nice assortment for this year.

And we only lost two of the survivors while decorating this year!


"Watch me break this ornament!"
This year, we added candy canes to the tree decor. They seem fitting since Ganesh does like his sweets, plus the candy canes we bought have red, blue, green and yellow stripes--all colors that are part of Pancha Ganapati. Perhaps one of these days, I'll learn how to make Indian sweets (I've got recipes for them out the wazoo but am too lazy to try them) and somehow make them into ornaments, but until then, candy canes and regular ornaments will have to do.

Our tree has no star or angel. Instead, we put our Pancha Ganapati stand-in (a five-headed Ganesh statue is kinda pricey) atop our tree, and each day, we drape him with that day's appointed color. The first day's color is yellow.

To end our decorating festivities, the boy got his first Pancha Ganapati gift. While the "true" tradition is to make the kids wait until the final day (which just happens to be Christmas Day) to open the gifts they receive on each day of Pancha Ganapti, we let the boy open his there and then.


After all, there's no way this boy could manage to wait to open a gift given.


And we think Ganesh would highly approve of this gift.
After these activities and a rousing hour of kickboxing, we loaded up into the car and headed off for a wonderful lunch at Rangoli. Nothing like some fabulous Indian food to kick off Pancha Ganapati!

Here are some more picks of our morning fun for your viewing pleasure, Gentle Reader.

I'm Still Running

Yeah, I'm still running.

Photo Op
We finally got notification about photos featuring the Chez Boeckman-Walker Turkey Trotters. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous that the three photos of the boys are all at the finish line:
Pic 1
Pic 2
Pic 3
Considering the Turkey Trot was the boys' first race, I'm glad their joint finish was documented so well.

The ones of me are taken at various stages, and only the final one I can place (I was rounding the last turn to head to the finish):
Pic 1
Pic 2
Pic 3

I suppose if I knew downtown Austin a bit better, I could tell you, Gentle Reader, where they were taken. But I try to avoid downtown as much as I can, so if you can name that building or road construction barrier, perhaps you can let me know where I am in the photos.

Wonderful

I'll admit it--I try to catch It's a Wonderful Life during the end-of-the-year holiday season because, well, it's tradition. And, the FSM forgive me, Brother Harry looks damn fine in his uniform in that final scene:

Gotta love a silk aviator scarf.
If you have any kind of tradition related to this movie, then you have to check out an essay from the 18 December edition of The New York Times by Wendell Jamieson about his own experience and revelations about George Bailey and his trials and tribulations. If you ask me, Jamieson is dead on when he writes,

It’s a Wonderful Life is a terrifying, asphyxiating story about growing up and relinquishing your dreams, of seeing your father driven to the grave before his time, of living among bitter, small-minded people. It is a story of being trapped, of compromising, of watching others move ahead and away, of becoming so filled with rage that you verbally abuse your children, their teacher and your oppressively perfect wife. It is also a nightmare account of an endless home renovation.

Jamieson is so right here. George Bailey's life is as much tragedy as it is success. How often are we told as kids to never stop dreaming, to aim for the stars, to work and work to make our dreams come true--and what happens to the majority of us? We wind up with mortgages, with jobs we come to loathe, in lives in which we're surrounded by people we once delighted in but now tolerate more than celebrate. In other words, despite being dreamers and working hard to realize our dreams, we wind up in ruts.

Oh, and Bedford Falls is the worst hell a person could wind up in.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...Something or Other

We here at Chez Boeckman-Walker are barreling toward the hell of the holidays at relative full steam. As I think I've mentioned a time or two, Gentle Reader, we don't exactly celebrate "normal" holidays. Since the human adults in this house do not identify themselves as Christian and thus think it hypocritical to celebrate Christmas--and sure as hell don't want to get wrapped up in the materialism that's rampant this time of year and teach that idea to our kiddo--we've sort of bastardized a made-up Hindu holiday, Pancha Ganapati, which was made up so that Hindus could sort of take part in all the merriment of this time of year.

Anywho, as the boy grows and has a more functional memory, we try to establish some traditions for the fam. Last year we made a gingerbread house from a kit to be Ganesh's shrine, which is one of the rituals of Pancha Ganapati. We're repeating that ritual this year--and I'm thinking perhaps this should not be a tradition.

"Why is that?" you ask, Gentle Reader?

Because making a gingerbread house from a kit sucks ass, to put it politely. (Trust me, I was muttering enough curses under my breath yesterday while dealing with the MFer that that opening sentence is polite.) Last year I went with a quick and dirty kit I found at HEB's bakery. This year, I nabbed a Debbie Mumm/Wilton cobranded kit at JoAnn's Turkey Day weekend, and I thought this year might be different, that it might not be such a hassle to build the thing because, hey, the boy might actually be useful.

Yeah yeah, I know, I know. I'm a total idiot for entertaining such a delusion.

The boy got out of school at noon yesterday, and I had plans to hit the JC Penny sale that started at 3 because the coats would be 70% off and Momma needs her a new coat for when she walks the boy to school so she doesn't freeze her arse off and wind up with spasmed lungs. On top of that, I had to make the weekly grocery run, and I'd told the boy that because he'd only had one "behavior incident" at school, we could make a run to the local Korean frozen yogurt shop. (I'd live at Tomunchi if I could, but I can't. Alas.) And on top of all that, I thought we could squeeze in construction of the gingerbread shrine.

Again, I know how absolutely crazy I was to entertain such a delusion.

I didn't count on making the boy attempt to nap twice. He tried after we got home from school, but that didn't work even though he needed to catch some zzzzs. He yawned throughout the grocery run, so I sent him back to nap after we got home from HEB. That time, he managed to do the deed.

While he napped, I whipped up the frosting/gingerbread cement/royal icing glue that was included in the kit. That little task should have been easy, right? Just add the stated amount of water to all the powder (confectioner's sugar, I suspect) in the big bag in the kit, beat with an electric handmixer and voila!

Wrong!

The instructions leaflet stated to use 5 tablespoons and 1 teaspoon of warm water. Okay, sure, no problem. But the instructions on the bag of powder stated to use 6 tablespoons and 1 teaspoon of warm water. So which was I to believe? I didn't want to add too much water and then have to thicken the goo by slowing adding in my own powdered sugar. But I didn't want to use too little water and burn out my handmixer trying to mix the stuff.

So I started with the 5/1 combo, cleared away all the powder that fluffed everywhere when I started mixing the contents of the bowl (what a pain and a waste!) and then added that extra tablespoon of water. By the time I was finished, I had the toothpaste consistency both sets of instructions told me I should have as the final result. Then I covered the bowl with a damp towel so the goo wouldn't harden and woke up the boy because it was time to go shopping.

Flashforward about 90 minutes later. (I was paralyzed with indecision at Pennys, and I wound up buying three coats because I'm not sure which one will work best. You can't exactly recreate actual user conditions--with all the bulky layers and whatnot that I wear on a cold day's walk to school--when it's 80 degrees outside. But the temperature is set to drop tomorrow, so I'll have more ideal conditions.) It's already past 4 and I knew the husband was on his way home (after stopping first to pick up my bulk granola at Whole Paycheck) and I knew we didn't have much time before we were to all head out in search of a tree to decorate. But nevertheless, I pressed on with the shrine construction.

And got absolutely nowhere. At one point I did have the four walls up, but then they collapsed. One of the peaked pieces fell and hit my foot, causing the peak to break, so I had to do some repair work, which didn't make me happy. The boy was bouncing off the walls because...because he's just that way and was being no help whatsoever. Bucket kept jumping up onto the counter so he could do his sous-chef duties, and that was not helpful in the least bit. I'd finally thrown up my hands in defeat when the husband walked in.

Yeah, those people you see on Food Network who build the incredibly elaborate gingerbread houses and showpieces evidently must not have rambunctious boys and half a dozen cats underfoot while doing them. And they have far more patience than I have.

Conifer Hunting
We put off getting a tree until much closer to the actual start of the holidays because we didn't want the thing drying up and defoliating all over our floor. That happened last year, and we've still found dry needles in the living room from time to time. Plus we live a pretty active life in our house, and the last thing I need it to be righting a decorated tree again and again after it's literally fallen victim to the boy or the felines.

Of course, the problem with putting off the tree buying is that you're a little hard-pressed to find trees to buy. We usually get a tree at the local BLowe's, but the store was barren. So too was the Wally World next door. So after 15 minutes of waiting in traffic to get across the street, we found The Home Despot still had some conifers. We picked out a really nice 6-foot or so Douglas fir, and it only set us back $25 or so. Woohoo!

With the boy and I holding on to the strings securing our tree to the top of the husband's Civic, we raced home. I raced to get supper on the table while the boys got the tree rooted into the stand in the yoga room. (No room in the living room this year. We have to have all the space for kickboxing three times a week.) I even let the husband put the lights on--something he's never done in the thirteen yuletide holidays we've spent together. I think he was quite flabbergasted that I relinquished this duty, and he did a nice job. See for yourself:

Tonight or this afternoon, I'm going to let the boys decorate the shrine. The boy has all kinds of plans for it, and I just don't have the patience to put up with him when he's in his "creative" moods. I'll play photodocumentarian while the boys play Martha Stewart. As for the tree, it'll be decorated Sunday as part of our festivities for the first day of Pancha Ganapati.

So You're Eager to Do 'Something Good,' Keanu?

Then just leave it alone.

By it, Gentle Reader, I mean Cowboy Bebop, that totally kick-ass anime from my slightly younger days. The anime that is just.... Well, Gentle Reader, if you've never seen it, hithee to YouTube or some other site or--gasp!--Netflicks to view yourself some Cowboy Bebop.

Anywho, that paragon of acting talent Keanu Reeves spoke to MTV recently about heading up a live action adaptation of Bebop. And while I know that this project will most likely never see the light of day (err, the dark of a movie theater) if the great and gracious FSM is willing, I just want to ralph at the thought of this moron taking a stab at it. Bebop was just fine the way it is. It has never at any point called out for a live action version or a sequel (although I seem to recall that Cartoon Network had attempted to get one from the creators after it did so well on Adult swim--despite the fact that the show ends in a way that makes a sequel an obvious cash grab).

I will be ever so happy when 80s and 90s nostalgia goes away. It's bad enough that live action big screen versions of other fondly remembered anime of my youth (yes, my truly younger days) such as Robotech (okay, granted, that's an American bastardization of not one but three anime titles) and Voltron (again, an American bastardization of three titles, although only two made it to the airwaves) are allegedly in the works. And, again, while I doubt these projects will ever see the dark of a movie theater (sorry, Tobey McGuire doesn't have that much star power, Robotech fans), I'm not a big fan of anyone screwing around with those few things that were nifty and cool for their time. I mean, look at the calamity that was Speed Racer.

Everybody Loves a Cliché!

By the way, if you really want a laugh or love when popular movies--particular of the type featuring beloved characters from Batman--collide with real-world stuff, check out another entry from this particular video collage maker person.

Parents, Get a Grip

Yes, Gentle Reader, it's time for another one of my rants about stupid parents. But trust me on this when I say this rant is more of a laugh riot than a diatribe against ignoramus parenting.

Today's WSJ includes an article about the trouble at Chuck E. Cheese. No, it's not the awful food served. No, it's not the throwback-to-an-earlier-era "entertainment" offered. (Animatronic singing rats, Whac-A-Mole and video games? Is this the 70s?) No, it's not the ridiculously overpriced party packages.

It's the parents. Namely, the parents who don't know how to behave in public. Check out this tasty morsel:

One woman removed the red rope that marks the entrance queue and handed it to another woman, who swung the metal clip attached to it at others involved in the incident [that started when parents complained to the restaurant manager that children were loitering at the machine that draws digital pictures of customers].

A makeshift mace? Well, I give her credit for ingenuity in the heat of battle.

Oy carumba.... Spare me from Upchuck E. Cheese and the parents who take their brats there.

My Kid the Artist Redux

Remember those days, Gentle Reader, when your teacher would hang your art work out in the hallway? When you or your 'rent would hang your latest masterpiece on the 'fridge or in some place of honor in your home?

Yeah, it's the 21st century, so screw that. Kids put their art online.

While the boy is quite prolific (gotta keep the City of Austin recycling program in biz somehow), select piece of the art he creates at school is now and will continue to be available online through Artsonia. The site is kinda nifty, if a bit commercial: View a kid's art, leave her or him comment and then shell out some dough you could spend on other, more useful things to have a kid's art put on a t-shirt, mug, postcard (as in U.S.P.S., not e-greeting) or whatever. Oh, and Artsonia is so altruistic in that it gives the kid's school 15 percent of the money earned from these purchases. (Then again, that's probably more than what the local Girl Scouts club gets from cookie sales.)

So if you want to see the boy's directed art (as in someone's telling no, he can't draw another Jedi vs. battle droids face-off), check out his online gallery. Leave him a comment. Have a laugh. Just don't order anything. If you want an original, suitable-for-framing piece of the boy's work for your own, just e-mail me. I can hook you up with enough art to wallpaper your entire house. (No, really. Please help me get rid of some of his art.)