And Baby's Arrived ♥

wrote my brother, who now has a family of four  ♥

An Early Thanksgiving

Mike and I decided Monday afternoon to have a Thanksgiving dinner together on Tuesday.  Since I work this Thanksgiving and Mike will be home with his family for the holiday--their first Thanksgiving without his dad--we hadn't made plans to have a just-the-two-of-us dinner at all, and I had kind of figured I'd just miss Thanksgiving this year.  Monday afternoon, though, that seemed stupid:  I had the next day off and wouldn't see Mike again until next week, so why would we not just celebrate on Tuesday?!  Last night was our little Thanksgiving, then, and it was a sweet one. 

It was the second consecutive Thanksgiving for this favorite vintage tablecloth of mine, a brown patchwork print that looks like something Holly Hobbie would throw onto her own table for the holiday.  I love it so, and it survived Mike's red wine with no damage, so all the better.  

As I did a couple Thanksgivings ago, I went with paper plates, which made things a bit easier.  I think 2013's simple orange-paper-plated dinner remains my favorite Thanksgiving table setting so far--the orange was just so warm and vibrant, as it was when we had an orange Christmas breakfast table last year--but this year's table was cozy even if a bit muted. 

We had turkey cutlets--neither of us like dark meat, so we never bother with a whole bird--Marie's zucchini gratin, our mushroom stuffing--that I just realized the recipe for is still in my list of posts as a draft, so I'll have to hit "publish" on that one soon--quinoa with just a bit of butter and salt and pepper stirred in, buffalo cauliflower because Mike wanted to try it, and green bean casserole.  Neither of us cares much about potatoes or gravy, so we skipped them, and since Mike was diagnosed with diabetes this fall, we went easy on flour-filled foods and bread products too.  Our mushroom stuffing was mostly mushrooms instead of the more equal bread cube-mushroom ratio it's been before, and we had no side-bread this year.  For dessert, we split a slice of chocolate tuxedo cake from the bakery.  Mike will be having his mom's apple pie and pumpkin pie tomorrow, so he'll be splurging a little more then anyway.

We watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles over dinner, as has become tradition during our rather informal Thanksgivings here.  This was one of my and my younger brother's favorite movies when we were kids, and it continues to be, and now we all find ourselves quoting lines of it to each other throughout the year. It both tickled me and struck me as poignant to hear a few years ago that my brother and his wife were watching the movie while she was in the hospital to give birth to their dear Bianca--that this sweet film from our childhood was a part of those moments for him and his own family so many years later.  ♥ 

Stuffed didn't come near-enough to the table for pictures until after Mike and I had eaten and cleared things away, but he was his usual impossibly soft and adorable self all day, napping in just about every chair and even softly snoring while he did.  Love, love, love.  ♥ 

I added a chocolate turkey to our cake, as I did with our pumpkin pie on our first Thanksgiving together in 2007.  It took forever to find this tiny candy-turkey in the store; What seemed to be a hundred huge solid milk chocolate ones were displayed more prominently.  Is eating--or even just gift-giving--solid chocolate turkeys a thing that people do at Thanksgiving now?  At a Thanksgiving dinner I attended during my internship days in Wisconsin in 2004, one of the women invited arrived with a number of little foil-wrapped turkeys for all the children present, which struck me as such a thoughtful and fun offering, but the big--at least 6" tall--solid chocolate turkeys are new to me.  I'm sure they'd be gorgeous on a big-enough dessert or as part of a centerpiece, at least.  (And you can tell I work with children when Elsa's bust-topped Coronation Day cake is the first "big-enough dessert" that comes to mind.  :)

Mike did the dishes while I put away the leftovers, and another Thanksgiving had come and gone.

When I took my iced tea glass out to the kitchen sink, I found a soap suds heart dissolving before my eyes.  'One of my favorite found hearts, this one, and a fine finish to this Thanksgiving. 

A happy holiday to everyone celebrating, and a good day to you all.  ♥ 

Happy Birthday and Anniversary, Hope

My younger brother's wife had just finished her nursing school exams and I was home for the wedding on a weekend-break from packing up our old apartment to move here, so I'm surprised we look as carefree as we do in this 2011 picture.  It is one of my favorites.  Happy birthday to my sister-in-law, and a happy anniversary to her and my younger brother.  ♥

In-Bloom

The Hyacinth is almost in full-bloom now, exactly a week since I brought it home from the grocery store, and I keep thinking as I admire it--pausing for a long sniff of the flowers every time I walk past the mantel--that I should start giving out single bulbs in forcing vases as holiday gifts, as this has brightened the past week so much.  My older brother used to give pots of Amaryllis as Christmas presents.  Collecting the vases and selecting the bulbs would be a sweet little project this year.  ♥

On the Fridge

My almost-eight-year-old niece is going through a butterfly-drawing phase.  Before butterflies, it was cats--each one neatly labeled "HELLO KITTY."

And before the cats were the adorable bats with their crazed pin-prick eyes. 

Insects and mammals all share the same smile in Alyssa's world, and her drawings of them never fail to make me laugh.  The butterfly drawing now on the fridge is sweet, and the one she presented to my St. Louis Cardinals-fan younger brother the last time I was home is also a keeper.  "I love you!  To:  Uncle Brian, Love:  Alyssa," it reads.  And directly underneath the heart-shaped butterfly and pleasant greeting, in our pistol of a niece's careful printing:  "P.S.  The Cardinals stink."  Ha!  ♥ 

On August Walks

 

 

 

I've been walking in the late afternoon and early evening when shadows are long.  Heading out first thing in the morning feels so much better but is too hard to coordinate with my work schedule, so I instead slather myself in SPF 100 sunscreen and hope for low-humidity hours between 2-6 pm. And no matter how disgustingly slick from sunscreen and sweat I am each time I arrive back at the apartment, the walks themselves are always therapeutic.  They are precious minutes of thinking, of praying--Grandma once shared the poem "Out in the Fields with God" with me, and it comes to mind during my walks--of telling people how pretty their dogs are as they bound past me, of admiring gardens and shadows and rock walls and faster-moving and better-looking bodies, of encouraging children as they wobble along on bikes as their parents jog along behind them, of breathing deeply, of being grateful for my health (because no matter how much slower or older I am than the Super! Toned! Twenty-Somethings! I am healthy enough to walk, period, and that's worth saying "Thank You" for), of wishing Mom were here with me so I could show her this sweet cottage of a home I'm hoping to get a good picture of without being spotted and shooed away by its owner; of remembering that between the tremors and other Lyme issues, Mom couldn't walk at this pace or for this long anymore anyway--and so then I just carry on a conversation with her in my head as I walk, the way I carry on with Papa and Grandma and Sommer and other loved ones I have to be content to hold in my heart since hand-in-hand is no longer an option, and the entire walk feels that much more like a prayer.  It's the Ivy that makes this house so sweet.  It's the dome shape that does it for me, Vally.  I love the Ivy, though.  Aunt Laurie had those beautiful bay windows, remember?  Yes.  I loved that house.  Love, love, love.  One of my college professors once told me that he thinks one of the keys to life is to be passionately in love with something every day of your life--a person, an idea, a cause, a flower, the moon, the ocean, a poem, a book, a movie, just something.  There is wisdom in that.  My younger brother and I would play a game of my invention on even car trips when we were kids:  We would have to come up with something--at least one thing--we liked about each house or yard we passed.  There we would sit, half-turned in the backseat of my parents' car, straining to take in the sights of fast enough to find that hurry!-just-one-thing! before it would pass from view.  Oh, yes, this is a Val game, for sure!  But I play it even now when I'm a few years shy of forty, and I hear us wildly laughing as little kids again as I find myself shouting out "That snowball bush!  That rock wall!  The way the sunlight's hitting that chair on their front porch!  That DOG!!!" in my head as I walk each afternoon.  And this week I think of dear Robin Williams and some of my own lowest lows, having struggled with depression for two-thirds of my life now, and I say prayers for him too as I huff and puff up the heights of hills and stairs.  Each return to the apartment sees me marking my mileage onto a calendar in the bathroom and awarding myself a pink "Thank You!" sticker for that day's walk.  "Who exactly are you thanking with these stickers?  Most people would do gold stars," Mike teased me the other night as I proudly slapped a new one into place.  But the "Thank You!" stickers suit me, and I enjoy seeing the strips of them I keep on the desk for this post-walk ritual.  I am thanking God, of course, and I am thanking myself for making the effort.  I am thanking neighbors who plant pretty flowers for no reason other than to add a little more beauty to life.  I am thanking animals and birds for existing.  I am thanking the children for being children--and their parents for giving them good childhood memories.  I am thanking my own parents and brothers and grandparents and friends for being there, period, and for all the love.  Oh, love!  Love, love, love!  I come back to it and come back for it and come back with it, over and over, day in and day out, and that is my biggest "Thank You!" of all.  

Christmas is a time of Do You Remember? Of family jokes. Of family rituals. Sometimes a little sadness--but always love. ~ Pam Brown

A couple of the funniest Christmastime moments this week were jokes between me and my younger brother.  He was born when I was five, so you can imagine how goofy and fun Christmas was for us as kids.  One of the things we laughed at most this time of year when we were younger was the scene from the "Ralphie and the BB gun" (A Christmas Story) movie in which Ralphie finally has his big moment with Santa Claus and Santa turns out to be the wild-eyed super-scary man pictured above.  :)  That screenshot, and the movie dialogue below, depict this scene that made us howl with laughter growing up.  When I woke up Christmas morning, TBS's all-day movie marathon of the movie was the first holiday-related program I found on TV, and guess which scene was up?  I took a picture and sent it to Brian, who later responded. . . .

A couple days before, he reminded me of "our line" below.  We thought we were so clever when we thought of this as kids, and I'm sure we drove our parents and older brother crazy with it.  On December 23rd:  "Tomorrow we can say 'Tomorrow is Christmas!'"  Yessssssss--except we would start this the week before as kids.  "Tomorrow we can say, 'Tomorrow we can say, tomorrow we can say, tomorrow we can say, TOMORROW is Christmas!"  Ay!  :)

The shared silliness is year-round, of course, but these were two of my favorite moments this week.   ♥

Bianca's First ~Merry Early Christmas~

One of the highlights of Tuesday's early Christmas with my family was meeting my newest niece and finally giving her and her parents the little baby gifts and Christmas gifts I'd been collecting the past few months.  Ah, but let's back up long enough to acknowledge that the photo above of her is obviously one of the sweetest baby pictures ever.  ♥  The bright shining eyes!  The tiny fist!  The gnome-ish hat!  Bianca wins the family prize for Prettiest Eyes, I daresay.  My younger brother emailed the picture to me a few weeks ago, and I knew as soon as he mentioned it was his favorite oneof all time that it would need to be made into a Christmas gift.  :)  I had photo mugs made for him and his wife. 

I found the "sugar and spice" tin at a thrift shop over the summer and filled it with a onesie and Cardinals baseball-themed gifts for her and her Redbird-loving parents:  Pink Cardinals pacifiers, a Cardinals ABC book, and a Cardinals knit hat.  Fun finds, all of them, and we all laughed as my brother and his wife looked at everything Tuesday evening.  My lifelong Pirates-fan dad dryly commented, "Well, if that's the way you want to raise your kid. . . ."  which makes me laugh again every time I remember it. 

Bianca slept through all the hilarity. 

Her first Christmas gifts from Aunt Val and Uncle Mike were clothes:  A pink bunny sleeper, a "My first Christmas" bodysuit, and a pink sleeper with a red Santa Claus print and attached Santa slippers.  :)  Bianca's the first baby in the family to be born during the holiday season, and that's made her arrival especially fun for us all. 

She slept through those gifts too, though. 

We all only briefly saw her eyes Tuesday night, so every picture from that night is a Sleeping Bianca shot. 

Late Wednesday afternoon, her mom sent me a picture of my finally-wide-awake niece in her pink Santa sleeper.  There are those shining eyes again.  I have to wonder when I see a baby this alert what she's thinking and what she'll be like in the years ahead. 

Merry First (Early) Christmas, Sweet Bee.  ♥

Grandma's Fudge

If my brothers are reading, they should act surprised Tuesday night when they receive these little boxes.  ♥  Grandma's fudge was one of our favorite things she made.  She would mix up a pan of it for Christmas and other special occasions and "just because," as well, and keep it in a box on top of her dining room buffet.  One summer week as a kid while I was staying with her and Papa, I told her I wanted to learn how to make it, and she went along with it, showing me how quickly I needed to stir in the chocolate chips and marshmallow cream and reminding me to make sure my pan was at-the-ready when the time came, even though it was really too humid out that week to be cooking fudge at all.  That first batch, despite Grandma's patience and tips and tricks, didn't turn out, and I didn't try it again until after she died in 2001.  Someone needed to keep the fudge tradition alive, and at least a few pounds of the weight I gained during grad school in the next few years can be attributed to my determination to figure out the recipe.  (And the bread recipe.  And the meatball recipe. . . .)  

It isn't difficult--no candy thermometer involved--but took me a few tries to get just right.  The original recipe is here, but I go by the rewritten version in my little cookbook.  I need to update my little cookbook a little bit, though, because I've learned more since adding Grandma's recipe to it.

I knew I really had it down when I arrived home for my younger brother's wedding in July of 2011 and was greeted by my mom with a bemused "Brian's asked you to make some of Grandma's fudge for the reception."  That turned into another humid summer day of fudge-making, but by then, I knew enough fudge secrets to be successful.  I use butter not margarine.  Butter.  As soon as the 1.5-sticks-of-butter/3-cups-of-sugar/exactly-2/3-cups-evaporated milk mixture begins to boil, set your timer for five minutes and stir it all five minutes while it bubbles and makes your kitchen smell like Grandma's.  Five minutes.  All five minutes.  Have your ingredients open and your 13" x 9" pan greased/prepared ahead of time.  And begin washing your Fudge-Cooking Pot immediately after you're done with it.  

One of the things I wish I'd thought to save from Papa and Grandma's house was the deep saucepan Grandma used for this recipe.  This pot's another one of theirs, but I wish I'd had the foresight to take the other one too.  Dad made me the sturdy wooden spoon below.  It's extra-tall and perfect for stirring thick fudge with its big billy club handle. 

Not realizing when to begin the five-minute countdown for the boiling stage was my mistake with my first however-many batches of this fudge.  Set your timer when you first see bubbles at least as big as the ones below.  Stir constantly, and I mean it.  The sugar can get scorched if you don't, and the more you stir, the smoother the fudge will be.  Gritty fudge still tastes good but doesn't do Grandma proud.  Off-subject, Aunt Laurie sent me that sweet pot holder last Christmas, and I treasure it.  Grandma's recipe and pot, Dad's handmade spoon, and Aunt Laurie's pot holder.  This fudge recipe was brought to you by love, thank you.  ♥

And you will need to feel the love after you add the bag of chocolate chips, and then, most especially, after you add the marsmallow cream, because the fudge will already have the consistency of fudge at this point and will be hard to stir. I use the smaller (7 oz.) jar of marshmallow cream, but the fudge turns out with the large jar too.  It's just a bit softer in both color and consistency when the extra's added.

That my grandmother, even in her early nineties, made this fudge for us as often as she did--and voluntarily, and without complaint--is a testament to her love for us, truly, because the incorporating-chocolate-and-marshmallow stage makes the arms ache.  I marvel at her strength every time I cook this.  ♥ 

Quickly pour it into the pan, begin washing the pot, and let the fudge cool.  I've just opened the kitchen window and let the pan chill on the stove-top under it the past few times I've made it.  By the time I've finished all the boiling and stirring and am starting dishes and kitchen clean-up, a wide-open window feels like heaven anyway. 

Target had the little treat boxes in the top picture in their dollar section, so I picked up two and packaged some fudge in them to add to my brothers' Christmas presents.  Walnuts omitted for Brian.  Christmas sprinkles added to the top of the entire batch, although I'm sure Grandma would shake her head at this newfangled addition to her recipe and murmur, "Well, I suppose that's okay. . . ."  :)  Best Fudge Ever.  ♥  Love to you all this Christmas.  December's been a blur this year.  I see my family--and meet Bianca--Tuesday!  Life is sweet.