(Kitty likes her meat RAWR!)

I used to hate to cook. Just thinking about cooking made me feel tired and depressed; even when I was a stay-at-home mom I couldn’t bring myself to do more than the minimum.

“What’s for dinner?” My ex would say.

“I dunno, whatcha making?”

I had a mental block against cooking because I always had the feeling my mother hated it. I don’t know if it’s true; it just seemed such a repetitive chore. Same with my hardworking grandmothers who spend their whole lives in their kitchens and their gardens: By the time they cleaned up from one meal it was time to start the next. Had I lived a life like theirs I think I might have stuck my head in an oven set to “broil.”

(Kittyprint prep bowls found at a kitchen outlet)

But outdoor cooking is different, right? It’s fun, like camping. Believe it or not I went to survivalist school as a kid; in Minnesota this is what they call a “school trip.” I’m glad I did it: I can start a fire in the rain using only one match (hint: use birch bark).

Also, my first long-term boyfriend, whom I’ll call Tipi Guy, taught me how to catch and scale fish. He was a Norwegian lumberjack who wanted to be a Lakota native in the worst way, and through our work on the local reservations I learned how to cook “Indian style,” which in the 1980’s meant frybread with canned blueberries, grilled walleye, and wild rice soup.

(Marinated London Broil)

Tipi-guy hated that I loved my meat rare, and by rare I mean RAW. Once I spent almost fifty dollars on two antelope steaks and ate mine with my bare hands before he even lit the campfire. I got really bad marks on that day. Submissive “native wife” was a job I didn’t want and failed the interview for anyway, especially after the flyfishing “incident” that I won’t go into. Suffice it to say he married the girl who didn’t try to kill him.

That was the last time I cooked on a regular basis. Bunny got her dietary variety from living in three places: Mine, her father’s and her grandmother’s. It’s a good thing because otherwise Bunny’s idea of cooking would be instant oatmeal.

But I digress! I fired up a grill tonight for the first time in five years! Usually I leave the grilling to whatever manly man crosses my threshold. I tried to light my gas grill once on my own and I practically blew up the neighborhood because I left the lid on when I pushed the ignition. I got rid of that menace in favor of a little Coleman charcoal grill (a gift from my stepfather). It sat around for over a year gathering dust. But looky! My first try, with a London Broil I’d been marinating in a red pepper rub for two days. I didn’t time it or anything and it STILL turned out perfect. I paired it with a mess of greens pulled right out of my garden. Mmmm yummy

Plush Plagues Bag

Includes all 10 plagues!
Ages 3 & up Keeps the kids entertained during Passover. This plush yellow plagues bag contains representations for all of the plagues (not necessarily in the correct order):

• A spooky eyed drop of blood
• A Frog for frogs—of course
• A Giant Lice for lice.
• Cow for cattle disease
• Black Locust for locusts
• A white satin lump of hail
• A black cube of darkness
• An icky boil on a piece of flesh!
• A snarling lion’s head for wild beasts
• and last of all a very sad head - for death of the first born.

My sister Jen was admitted into the hospital late this week due to a cancer scare. The surgery/biopsy revealed nothing much, thank God, but they still haven’t figured out what is wrong with her intestines.

The weekend family reunion in Kentucky has been postponed and I’m headed to Massachusetts instead. Jen had cancer once before (she had a kidney removed on her 13th birthday), so she knows the drill and is in pretty good spirits now that the negative biopsy results are in. In life we take what we can get, yes?

Those stuffed plagues and foam masks are for real, and my Temple-schooled niece and nephew WILL be getting them as Passover gifts Now that their Mommy is NOT going to die the absurdity of “the black cube of darkness” is silly and cute again. Had I known about the Jewish Muppets they would have gotten those too!

Happy Holy Days,

The heather blooms in my front yard are covered in snow. What a beautiful day! Bunny’s school called a snow day, and it’s my day off from work. Our decadent breakfast: Fresh squeezed tangerine juice and REAL hot chocolate.

Ingredients:

4 cups whole milk
10 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped

Optional ingredients for garnish:

Whipped cream
Chocolate shavings
Ground cinnamon
4 small cinnamon sticks

Instructions:

1. Place the milk in a medium saucepan over high heat. Bring to scalding, and then remove from heat.
2. Optional: Add a cinnamon stick, and allow to infuse for 15 minutes. Carefully remove the cinnamon stick.
3. Bring the milk back up to heat. Add the chocolate, and stir until the chocolate is melted and the milk is frothy.
4. Pour into mugs and garnish with the whipped cream, chocolate shavings, cinnamon and cinnamon stick. Serve immediately.

It was 10:30 when Bunny woke me up. “Can we go shopping today? I need a dress for the cotillion.”

It was a little bit too much for me to deal with first thing after opening my eyes. A cotillion? Bunny a debutante? In New Jersey? Whose lame brained idea was that, my ex-mother in law? Do they even have those things anymore? I sighed. “Bring me some espresso and the rest of the berries and we’ll talk.”

In the car I began to oppress her with Mom Fashion Sense. Fortunately for Bunny I had shucked off my family’s Calvinist stingy prudishness when I was thirteen , and had already decided I would be The Cool Mom.

“Let’s find something elegant for you. Nothing with a petticoat, ok? I don’t want you to look like a cake topper.”

“Ew. I want something long and black.”

“Black? For a cotillion? I thought you said it was a cotillion. You wear all white at cotillions.”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam, it’s not THAT kind of cotillion. It’s got a theme. Evening at the Oscars, practically everyone will be wearing black.”

“Oh.” My how things have changed. “Cotillion” in this town means a formal dance.  A school dance? Maybe I should have asked, ya think? Fortunately Bunny was born with good taste, which meant no fighting over the dress. Mission accomplished.

1892

1964

60’s/70’s theme, date unknown

So long as I’m allowed to have my way a typical Saturday involves my sleeping until noon. If Bunny wants me up earlier she brings a double espresso upstairs and passes it under my nose until I wake up. This morning she was so engrossed in her instant messaging on the internet so I was free to snooze.

When I woke up it was time to shop. Time to spoil the child again! We went to the local teenybopper boutique and spent her Christmas gift certificate on trendy knits. The child spoilage is deliberate: I had a dorky childhood and swore that no matter what, my child would always have enough “cool” clothes so that she’d never feel the way I felt the day my mother insisted the plaid corduroy pants were “practical.” Today Bunny is very, very cool. She’s tall and very mature and has been hanging out with seniors (now college freshmen) since the day she started high school. Since she’s an A/B student on the bowling team, and has never given me a lick of trouble she’s allowed out on Friday nights with a midnight curfew. She wears whatever she wants, and gets whatever she wants within reason. Today I said no to the $80 jeans.

“Mom?”

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“Mom?”

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“Mom. Mom. MOM!!!!!”

I stirred a bit. My GOD I was out of it. “Mmmmm?”

“It’s, like, 3:30.”

“Shit.” I was supposed to be at work. I thanked GOD I was a government employee with 20 years tenure and a boss who liked me. I rolled over and looked at Bunny standing in my bedroom doorway. “Mummy doesn’t feel very good.”

If Bunny said something after that I don’t remember it.

For five years after Pottery Barn brought out it’s Santa’s Reindeer china pattern I went there every Christmas just to drool. I always thought having a special set just for the holidays was kind of lame. OK, really lame, but these were funny! I wanted them but they were too expensive, so every December I pretended the dishes in the store were mine and that I was visiting them.

As fate would have it this was the china pattern my now ex-fiance and I settled on when we got engaged, which made gift giving easy for Joe’s Christmas-crazy family. He and I were coming together with two households full of stuff and already had two full dish sets, so why not the funny reindeer?

Joe Cool was a big fan of Christmas and always went all-out with the house lights, the huge tree and the presents, while I was the mom who thought of the stuff in storage and sighed, do I really want to crawl behind my stair case to pull out all that crap, only to put it back in a few weeks? Suffice it to say that once Bunny turned fourteen I gave up the Christmas dress-up in favor of seasonal decorations I could keep up until spring without people looking at me funny.When we called of the engagement I got the dish set.

EGG NOG

1 whole egg
1 tablespoon superfine sugar
Pinch salt/4 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup milk
Nutmeg

Beat the egg with the sugar and salt and pour into a 10-ounce highball glass. Add vanilla and milk and stir to mix. Grate a little nutmeg on top. Note: If there is a problem with eggs in your region, do not prepare this recipe.

My favorite reindeer is, of course, Vixen. My second favorite is Blitzen. If I were ever to add to the set I’d go to Replacements Limited and order all Vixens dishes. Any additional cups and mugs will all be Blitzens! Too bad they don’t make lowball glasses in this pattern; my guests and I could all get ‘nogged up in style!

This year is the 10th anniversary of this china pattern, so the store has introduced some new serving pieces. I was just about to indulge in a serving platter and large bowl when it occurred to me I had no place to put them! It’s true: My kitchen is full. I don’t even have room for another dishtowel, let alone more dishes! So I bought a set of napkin rings instead. They’re small.

I’m off again for our yearly Sisterhood is Powerful Holiday Conclave in New England. It’s a small group, only two of us, but oh! The things we do! Such as read and drink coffee and nap.

What, no Christmas carols? No big family reunion? No fancy feast? No church? You’re kidding, right?

Don’t worry about us; we have our own special Christmas traditions, like getting drunk and cow-tipping at the neighboring farms.

What? You’ve never heard of cow tipping? It’s where you sneak up on a dozing cow and tip him over. You have to be really, really drunk, as it’s the only way to approach a huge bull minding his own business in the middle of a field. The bull needs to be nodding off, almost asleep or it won’t work.

Oh. You know cow tipping is an urban myth? There are articles all over the web explaining how cow tipping breaks the laws of physics?

Damn internet. It used to be so funny, watching those drunk city boys being chased by the neighbor’s enraged bull. Priceless.

But my dad and his buddies did put the neighbor’s bull on a roof once. Really; that story is true. When Grandpa told him and his friends never to do it again they put the car on the roof instead.

Don’t believe it?It’s done with scaffolding and ramps. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a REAL cow being hoisted to a high roof with a crane. That’s just mean.

1 bag of frozen raspberries
1 cup sugar or sugar syrup (adjust to taste)
1 blender

This is so easy to make that it’s almost laughable that it never occurred to me to try this myself. Why do I buy this stuff at the supermarket, again?

Bunny invented this little concoction and it’s insanely good. Very tart, which I like. No funny ingredients to decipher. There are only two ingredients, if you’ve not already noticed. If you don’t have sugar syrup (do NOT us corn syrup!) you will need a small double boiler to melt your granulated sugar without burning it.

Toss the ingredients in a blender, set it on medium high and start blending. Pour into a covered dish and freeze for an hour or so before eating. Viola!

I was in a bad way and couldn’t take the pain and embarrassment any longer. Scorpio had recommended two of his GI doctors to me, but they couldn’t take new patients until January. I made an appointment with one of their partners at an office almost an hour away. He seemed nice enough.

“So! What brings you here today?”

“My tummy.” (braaaaaaaap)

He laughed. “Of course; I’m a GI doctor. Work with me here.”

“I’ve had some rapid weight gain (burp) my stomach is sticking out and it hurts when I press on it.”

“Okay, NOW we’re getting somewhere. Talk to me.”

I belched again, and winced because it was actually painful. “The last time I had a belly like this there was a baby inside. (Belch) And I can’t stop belching. And I . . . can’t . . . “go” . . . without a laxative. I’ve never been this way before.”

“Don’t worry, guys like women who belch. How much weight?”

Embarrassed, I was tempted to lie. “Fifteen pounds since last summer. I was at my primary doctor last Friday and got weighed and I’d gained 11 pounds. I’ve already gained four pounds since then and there is NO WAY I could have eaten that much. It’s just weird.

“Do you drink?”

“Not much, not these days.”

“Smoke?”

“No.” (urp)

“Ever?”

(Braaaap, shake head)

“What have you tried?”

“Everything. I bought every kind of antacid and laxative on the market. Right now I’m using straight senna from the health food store.”

“OK let’s take a look at you. Where does it hurt?”

“EEP! OW!” (urp)

“Okay, we’re going to send you in for a pelvic sonogram and have your ovaries checked out. Did your primary order a blood test? Can I see it? . . . Boy she covered everything, even the CA-125. Okay. Have her send me a copy of the results. How old are you again?”

“Forty one.”

“We’ll do a colonoscopy on you too. You’re at that age.”

(Groan) “Great.” (belch)

Bunny wanted to be a redhead like her mom so I bought her the kind that will eventually wash out.  I hope.

(Every night is kind of like this)

There hasn’t been much of a point to arguing over who gets the computer this week . . . so I’ll read a book instead. Happy HNT everyone!

(”A mother’s love” by Pino. Bunny is sick today.)

What did y’all have for thanksgiving? I grilled a grass-fed buffalo steak rather than bake a whole turkey breast for myself. I also made garlic mashed potatoes and pumpkin pudding, and topped off with a pumpkin Martini! Wearing a full slip of course!

The weather was sunny and balmy, then turned cloudy and damp later on in the day. Meanwhile, Bunny is with her father, the folks are in Minnesota, and my sister has pneumonia. But the football game is on!

I was at the drug store today, where I almost bought my sister Jen a Chia Pet for a birthday. It would have made a good gag gift, doncha think? But I changed my mind at the last minute and walked out of the store without it.

How many of you had Chia Pets when you were children? I think Jen and I shared one but we killed it.

Maybe I’ll give Jen a Chia Cat instead, so at least her cats can munch on it.