Ole to the New Year!

Tomorrow is that day where traditions and resolutions meet.
We resolve to be a better version of ourselves while we continue to do the same old thing.
Doesn't that seem sort of silly and exhausting?

I love traditions, but like every rule, I believe that they are meant to be bent.
Hell, maybe once you are out on your own, they are even meant to be broken.

Every New Year's Eve, for as long as I can remember, I have scrambled around with last minute plans.
I have searched for a cute outfit to wear, but the Christmas calories have caught up to me and all my jeans feel a little snug.  No matter where we go, there has been a jar of pickled herring within arms reach and some kind of dip made with black eyed peas. We struggle to make it until midnight and everything seems sort of forced.
In a nutshell, New Year's Eve has always been sort of a disappointment.

This New Year's Eve, because we live far away from family and because we are celebrating with our daughter (who will be in bed long before midnight), my resolution is to start our own awesome tradition.

First of all, I can think of no better way to start the year with food that you love, not food that is supposedly lucky.  In honor of that, we are having a fiesta!
We are making Mexican layer dip, salsa and guacamole and a big pot of vegetarian tortilla soup. Also, even though I am the only member of our household that likes them, I am going to boil up a big batch of peel-n-eat shrimp. I may even get some ingredients to make a pitcher of strawberry margaritas to ring in the New Year.

After eating our way through our small buffet, I plan on rocking Grace to sleep and then popping in "When Harry Met Sally".  It is the perfect New Year's Eve movie to accompany the perfect New Year's party.
If you don't understand how this can be, I double dog dare you to watch the very last scene and not laugh/cry.
Billy Crystal's declaration of love to Meg Ryan under the shower of New Years Eve confetti gets me every time.  Every. Time.

What are your New Years Eve traditions?
Are you sticking with what works or are you trying something new?
Either way, you should probably have a strawberry margarita.
Cheers to the New Year!
-L-

Perfect Strawberry Margarita

6 fluid ounces tequila

2 fluid ounces triple sec

• 8 ounces frozen sliced strawberries in syrup
• 
  
• 4 fluid ounces frozen limeade concentrate
• 
  

Fill a blender with ice and crush. Pour in the tequila and triple sec. Add the strawberries and limeade. Blend for 30 seconds or until smooth. Serve in margarita glasses with the rims dipped in powdered sugar.

photo courtesy of Pinterest

Lotsa Luster

I am not one to rave about beauty products.
In fact, I am perfectly fine wearing foundation from Walgreen's.
When I do wear blush, I prefer the cream variety and most days I will also use it for eyeshadow and lipstick. If I feel like getting really dolled up, I might slap on a coat of mascara and dust on some bronzer.

As far as makeup goes, my little sister, Nancy, is the exact opposite.
She is so in tune with her feminine, ultra-girly side that I sometimes wonder if she is adopted.
Her bathroom counter is covered in a sea of the latest must-have-makeup, and I am willing to bet she alone keeps Ulta and Sephora in business.

I love going home, sitting on the bathroom counter, and letting her give me a make-over.
The feel of the brushes against my skin is almost as good as getting a massage, and as I sit and listen to her talk about boys and school, I melt into a puddle of total relaxation.

Sometimes, if I am lucky, she gives me things.
Old make-up that wasn't quite her shade, a sample of perfume, a fun shade of lip gloss.

Last week, while I was standing in her bathroom searching her counter and make-up bags for the perfect shade of eyeshadow, I came across an electric blue tube of toothpaste.
I picked it up to get a better view.
It looked like "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" had a baby with The Twizzler Mouth.  And that baby?  Well, he was a Smurf.



Once she finished applying her second coat of mascara and was able to close her mouth, she told me I could have it if I wanted it.
Of course I wanted it! What is it?

LUSTER NOW!

Duh, I can read.
Then, she proceeded to told me it was the best toothpaste in the world.
That it would instantly whiten my teeth.
Instantly.

LUSTER NOW?
I was skeptical.
I peeled my lips back over my teeth and leaned in towards the mirror for a closer look.
I could definitely use some instant whitening.

I tossed the tube of LUSTER NOW! into my bag and headed out the bathroom door, leaving her to transform her bare face into a colorful work of art.

For 3 days I have been using this toothpaste, and for three days I have thought about being a model in a toothpaste commercial.
I have no clue how this stuff works so well, but my teeth are white.
Reaaaaal white.
LUSTER NOW! is amazing and I will be buying a tube as soon as this one runs out.
Unless, of course, Nancy has an extra one lying around.

PS:
Since you don't have a Nancy, I did a little research and found out you can buy this wonderpaste at Walgreen drugstores all across America.

Wind, Sunshine and Turnips

My friend, Sheila, called me last night to see if Grace and I would like to go with her and her girls to her farm today.
I practically squealed with delight because I love going to the farm.  It's such a change from our day to day life and I feel like it is a place were Grace can just be a kid.  It's a place where she can get dirty and run after chickens.

At the farm, the kids are forced to use their imaginations.

Today, thanks to some recent reading of "Little House on the Prairie" books, the girls decided that instead of being themselves they would be Mary, Laura, Carrie and Grace.
Grace didn't mind not having a pretend name.
She was just happy to be hanging out with the girls.

They played in the giant tree house.  

And they had a tea party where they drank real tea out of teeny tiny china tea cups.

 

 They picked turnips for dinner.

And, only when Grace was so tired that she tried lying down in beds of cabbage, did we decide to leave.


I carried her into the house and laid her in her crib. The wind and sunshine had done a number on her, and while she naps I plan on cleaning the turnips for dinner.

I love turnips but I love these ones even more than usual because we picked them ourselves.  Tonight, I'm going to braise them and spoon them over polenta.  I'll  serve them alongside the leftover roasted garlic bread we had last night.
Then, maybe tomorrow, I will stew their greens with some white beans.
What are you having for dinner?  Hope it's something as good as what we are having!

Braised Turnips
2 Tb butter
1 pound turnips, washed, trimmed, and cut into chunks
1/2 C vegetable stock
salt and pepper

Combine the butter, turnips, and stock in a saucepan. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to a simmer and let cook until turnips are tender, 20 minutes or so.
Uncover the dish and bring to a boil to burn off most of the liquid so the vegetables become glazed in butter and pan juices.
Serve the turnips and juices on top of polenta or rice.

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Not Your Mama's Casserole

Inspired by some pretty interesting pictures in an old Betty Crocker Cookbook and my aversion to going out in the cold drizzle that had been coming down all day, I decided to make a casserole.

My casserole did not look like this.  

I repeat: My casserole did not look like this!!

I did not use this recipe.

I repeat: I did not use this recipe!!

In fact, the only thing this recipe did was make me wonder how anyone survived the 70's.

That's not entirely true.  It also made me nostalgic for tuna noodle casserole that didn't resemble the above casserole in any way.

The truth is, I love casseroles. When they are made correctly, they are the quintessential winter meal: warm, gooey, and filling. Even better than that,I bet that you have everything on hand to make one, so you can avoid going out into the icky, winter weather.  Just mix it all together, stick it in the oven for half and hour and plop back down onto the couch to read while you wait for it to bake.

Tuna Noodle Casserole Done Right

16 oz whole wheat wide egg noodles

1 large pouch albacore tuna fish, packed in water

2 large carrots, shredded

2 cans organic cream of celery soup

6 green onions

2 cups Cheddar Cheese flavored cracker 

(we used Annie's Cheddar Bunnies but any cheese cracker works well!)

2 Tb melted butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large pot of heavily salted boiling water cook the noodles until al dente.

Drain well and set aside.

In a large bowl combine tuna, shredded carrots, chopped green onion, cream of celery soup, and noodles.

Mix well and generously season with salt and pepper.

Transfer into a 9X13 baking dish.

In a food processor, whiz the cheese crackers until they turn to crumbs and spread them evenly over the casserole.

Drizzle the melted butter over the cheese crackers and place casserole, uncovered, into the oven.

Bake 25-35 minutes.

You can serve this with a side salad, but because it's winter and I am in hibernation mode, I recommend serving it with hot biscuits smothered in golden, melting, butter.

I promise you will not be sorry. 

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Surviving Christmas

There are a million other things that I need to be doing right now.
There are piles of  new Christmas toys at my feet that need to be put in their proper spot, I haven't showered, there are loads of laundry on our bedroom floor, one in the dryer and one in the washer.  There are breakfast and lunch dishes stacked in the sink.

Grace is snuggled up in her crib and Jim is asleep on the couch.  I laid next to him for awhile, but it appears that I am the only person on earth unable to nap when they have a moment to do so.
Instead, here I sit.

I am so exhausted.  Christmas took it all out of me and not in the merry way that Christmas should. In my heart and in my mind, I have an ideal Christmas.  One in which everyone gets along, laughs, loves and is genuinely happy to see one another.

My reality is a bit...different.
I think most people deal with this around the holidays, because let's face it: Family is a complex thing.
Trying to make everything perfect for one day is just darn impossible.

For four days, while we have "celebrating" Christmas with our families, stress levels ran high.
We put on happy faces, we ate too much junk that we would never eat at home, and we tried not to cringe when someone would give Grace a sip of soda.  We smiled and tried not to rip our hair out when dogs ran up to our daughter and covered her face is big, pink, slimy tongues.  The three of us slept together in a hide-a-bed and tried to ignore the bar that pressed against our backs and made getting comfortable impossible.

Basically, we did what every other family did: We survived the holidays, but we just weren't "us".

Needless to say,  it's good to be home.
This morning, as I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee, I could almost feel everything shifting back to where it is supposed to be. As I pulled the shades up, white, bright, light flooded through our whole house.  In the middle of the night, while we were all nestled in our very own beds, it had snowed. I stood for a moment looking out at our yard and just tried to breathe.
I felt like it was the first time I have been able to do this all week.
Grace came in and stumbled against my leg asking for a drink and I held her up and hugged her close.  We looked out the window together, and while I wish the moment had lasted longer, she was unimpressed with the white wonderland spread before her.  She wanted down.  She wanted Daddy.  She wanted her cup.  Cup! Cup!  Cup!

Yep, things were back to normal.

The day was spent being lazy.  I read a little and  I met my girlfriend for walk.  Talking with her is just what I needed.  Our conversation made me realize that just because family brings out the craziness in us, it doesn't mean that we are crazy.  We just get wrapped up in the nuttiness of it all and our decision making gets all out of whack.



It's happened to the best of us.

But now we are home and of sound mind and body.
Oh, how I have missed us.

I have beans soaking on the stove to make for dinner and greens waiting to be chopped and added to them.
I can't even remember the last time I ate a vegetable that wasn't dunked in ranch.
And you know what?
That's not that that's a bad thing, it's just not our thing.

The Magic of Christmas

"On the Banks of Plum Creek"
by Laura Ingalls Wilder


The Surprise

"Laura's mouth fell open and her eyes stretched to look at what she saw.  She held Mary's hand tightly and they followed Ma and Pa.  They sat down.  Then Laura could look with all her might.
Standing in front of the crowded benches was a tree. Laura decided it must be a tree.  She could see it's trunk and branches.  But she had never seen such a tree.
Where the leaves would be in summer, there were clusters and streamers of thin green paper.  Thick among them hung little sacks made of mosquito-bar.  Laura was almost sure that she could see candy in them.  From the branches hung packages wrapped in coloured paper, red packages and pink packages and yellow packages, all tied together with coloured string. Silk scarves were draped among them.  Red  mittens hung by the cord that would go around your neck and keep them from being lost if you were wearing them. A pair of new shoes hung by their heels from the branch.  Lavish white strings of popcorn were looped all over this.
Under the tree and leaning against it were all kinds of things.  Laura saw a crinkly-bright washboard, a wooden tub, a churn and dasher, a sled made of new boards, a shovel, a long-handled pitch fork.
Laura was too excited to speak.  She squeezed Mary's hand tighter and tighter, and she looked up at Ma, wanting so much to know what it was.  Ma smiled down at her and answered, "That is a Christmas tree, girls. Do you think it is pretty?"
They could not answer.  They nodded while they kept on looking at that wonderful tree."



Merry Christmas!
May the true joys of the season bring you much happiness!
Love,
L

Take, Take, Take

Last night  after dinner I asked Jim if he would help me hang the curtains in our bedroom.  I bought them months ago and they have been sitting on our floor collecting dust ever since.  We are having company come to stay the night later in the week and I thought it would be a good reason to finally hang them.  I was so busy thinking of how fantastic our room was going to look that I barely heard him say he didn't feel like it.

I asked again.
He still didn't feel like it.

I looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing on the computer that made him so adamant about not wanting to help me out.
He was on a website called www.bored.com

This is not a joke.
He was playing a game on www.bored.com

We have an 18 month old toddler.
Do you know when the last time I was bored?

Let me make something very clear.  I love Jim.  I really, really do.  Fact is, he would do anything for anyone at anytime.  Except, apparently, for me.

So, I huffed and puffed my way through his tools to get everything I would need to hang the curtains myself, and I bit my tongue.
Sort of.
I really wanted to lay into him but knew it would do no good. I was flying solo on this one but let me ask you something: When you are in a partnership, isn't flying solo something you shouldn't have to do?  Don't I pick up his dry cleaning for him when he asks and cook dinner every night despite his lame attempt at telling me he would gladly eat PB&J  for dinner? Don't I do things every single day that I really don't "want" to do?

As I measured and marked on the wall where my screws were going to have to go, my anger and disappointment started to shift a little.  Instead of being mad at Jim, which I had every right to be, I realized that I don't really need him to help.  It would just be really nice if he did and it hurt my feelings more than anything that he refused to.

I was also mad that I never really learned how to hang curtains.
Or fix a leaky sink.
Or lay tile.
Hell, I don't even own a single tool.

After the curtains were hung and I stood back to admire my work, I made a point of telling Jim that the more I do alone the more I realize I don't need him to do "man's work".   Sure, it's nice to have the help but it's even nicer to be able to stand on the chair in the bedroom and feel the last bracket of the curtain rod click into place.

After the curtains were hung I went over to my neighbors to drop off her Christmas card and on her kitchen table was a copy of this book:



It was almost as if cosmic forces had guided me into her kitchen.  They also guided my hand to her refrigerator, where I helped myself to a beer, and to her couch where we sat and talked about how dense men can be. Here is the sage advice we came up with:
Fellas,
You don't want your lady to realize she can do everything you can; chances are she can do it better, too.  No game on the computer or sports highlight is more important than chipping in. So when she asks a favor, just do it.  Trust me.  Just hang the damn curtains. It will save you a lot of grief and a lot of nights dining on PB&J.

A Visit with Santa

Yesterday, we took Grace to see Santa Claus.  Normally, a trip to see him means that you will be standing in a long line at the mall, holding a squirming, slippery, way-too-dressed-up-to-be-comfortable toddler for hours on end.
Kids are screaming.
Kids are crying.
Kids are picking their noses.

Lucky for us, we live in wine country.
Instead of a mall, we took a 15 minute drive through winding country roads that seemed to stretch for miles.  On each side of us, horses and cattle grazed behind wooded fences and farm dogs sat on the back porch steps of their country homes, patiently awaiting the return of their owners.  As far as you could see, scraggly, dried grape vines clung to vineyard trellises and connected the properties.

Santa had picked a good spot to hang out for the weekend.

As we approached the tiny village, resurrected in his honor, I could not help but be filled with that joyful feeling that only Christmas can bring.  Two small red houses-a workshop and Santa's cottage-stood next to a food truck that piped warm, delicious smells from it's door and sliding window.
Giant ornaments and candy canes lined the path to the enormous wooden pavilion, where rosey cheeked children squealed with delight as they ice skated and clung to each other for support.  Parent's sat at tables placed next to barrels full of burning wood to keep warm.  If that failed to do the trick, they had mugs of hot, mulled wine to wrap their hands around.
And there, in the center of it all, stood Santa.  He wasn't sitting in a chair, there was no line, and his beard was real.  So was his belly that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly. Children were running around tugging at his big, red coat as he mingled with the crowd.

It was perfect.
He was perfect.

As I watched Jim walk with Grace up to Santa Claus and hold her near when she buried her tiny head into the crook of his neck, I felt a sense of deep peace.

There are many times in my life when I wish I had more.  I wish our house was bigger and not so drafty.  I wish we had a privacy fence so I wouldn't have to stare at my neighbors junk collection.  I wish I had a new pair of jeggins.  I wish I had that sweater I saw Katie Holmes wearing on Good Morning America.

But in that moment, watching Grace and Jim standing before Santa,  I wished for nothing.
I was completely content and happy.

As I walked up to join my family Santa leaned in and asked me what was on my list this year.  I couldn't think of a single thing.  I smiled at him and shrugged my shoulders,
"Thanks for asking, Santa, but as you can see, I already have everything I need."
He smiled back at me and a smile spread across his face as he nodded his head.

This Christmas season, I hope you all feel that peace.  That is my wish for each and every one of you.
Merry Christmas!

World's Best Stocking Stuffer

What if I told you that the best stocking stuffer in the world cost less than $5 and could possibly last you an entire lifetime.

No, it's not a fruitcake.

It's a big ole jug of Vaseline!

I know, I know.  Vaseline?  Ew.  The thought of giving someone petroleum jelly for a gift may not seem all that wonderful but let me tell you, if you don't have an ancient jug of Vaseline under your sink, you don't know what you're missing.

Trust me, it's a beautiful thing.

Here are a few ways to use this magical stuff:

Lips

• You can either swipe it clear onto your lips or put it over your favorite shade of lipstick.  It's smooth and not-too-sticky feel will be a welcome retreat from that gooey junk that your hair sticks to every time the wind blows.
•  Want to get really fancy?  Add a little Kool-Aid to a travel pot of Vaseline and you have flavored and tinted lip gloss.
• Chocoholic on your list?  Combine a small amount of Vaseline with a chocolate chip and microwave on 10 second intervals until melted.  Mix together and then let cool until set. Chocolate flavored lip gloss has significantly less calories than that extra slice of pie. 
• Cold, windy weather got your kisser feeling a little scaly?  Rub Vaseline into your lips and in 5 minutes go over them softly with a toothbrush.  Voila.  Kissable, soft lips. Where's that mistletoe?

Eyes

• When applied nightly to lashes, Vaseline has proven to improve their luster and growth.
• Already have beautiful, mascara enhanced, lashes?  Use a small amount of Vaseline to remove your eye make-up before you hit the sack.
• Gone glam and put of false lashes for that company Christmas party?  Use Vaseline to loosen the glue and make removal of your falsies all the merrier.

Body

• No time for a mani?  Swipe Vaseline across your cuticles to make them easier to push back.  Swipe on a clear coat of polish.
• No time for a pedi?  Right before bed, warm some Vaseline and massage into feet.  Put on a pair of socks right out of the dryer and the next morning you will be amazed at how smooth your feet feel.
• Mix Vaseline with sea salts to create a body scrub.  If you are feeling really fancy apply some essential oil of your choice.  Scrub your entire body and rinse.  No need for that extra lotion step, and your skin will look fresh and glowing!

This guy went a little overboard but you get the idea.

There are literally tons and tons of other uses.  I wish I could sit here and type them all out for you, but Jim just got Grace out of the bath and asked me to get the Vaseline for him while he dries her off.  It appears our little girl has a small case of diaper rash.

XOXO,
Lana

That's the Spirit!

I just sat down to schedule a doctor's appointment for Grace and I have to ask you something.

Is the date on the calender right?
Is it really already December 9th?
Are there really only 16 days until Christmas?

Yowza.

Here is what I am refusing to do this year:



Here is what I AM going to do this year:
Enjoy every teeny tiny thing about the season.

We took Grace to our town's Light's Fantastic Parade last week, and through the eyes of an 18 month old, the wonder of Christmas was reintroduced to me. As she sat, wide eyed and amazed at each passing float, I couldn't help but think that somewhere, we really have forgotten the meaning of the season.  She's doing Christmas the way it was meant to be done.

She dances like a lunatic to Feliz Navidad.
She gets flour all over the floor, the table, her clothes and her hair when she is helping me make cookies.
She walks out into the living room every morning and is genuinely overjoyed at Christmas decor.  In a tiny, sleepy voice she whispers, "Woooooow!"
She let's out a jolly, "HO HO HO!!" every time she sees Santa.  (Even the tiny set of salt and pepper shakers I have way on top of the cabinet are greeted with the same enthusiasm!)
Her hugs and kisses are done with meaning.  They are full of love and emotion, just like hugs and kisses should be.

So, yeah, this season I am celebrating the holidays like an 18 month old.
I am going to be cheerful and I am going to see the beauty of everything all around me.  Instead of focusing so much on the gray, dreary, cold looking day, I am going to shift my focus to the bright red cardinals that come to eat from and hop around our feeders.  In lieu of rushing out to the mall to buy gifts for my family and friends, I am going to donate money to a charity in honor of each of them.  Sure, I will probably get them each a tiny little something to open up on Christmas morning, but in reality, don't we all already have more than we need?

I know I do.

Little House Lots of Love

The other day, I was at my sitting at my friend's table chatting away, while we watched our two daughters play happily at the tiny table next to us.  They were busy smashing and rolling and throwing the homemade blue Play Dough she had given them and we, in turn, each had a ball of our own to roll around in our hands.

As I rolled my dough on the table and flattened it out, my eyes caught sight of a letter addressed to Laura sitting on her kitchen table.  The letter was signed, "Love, Pa".

I was so utterly confused because none of the people that live in her house are named Laura and the children definitely do not call their daddy "Pa".  At the risk of sounding nosy I decided to ask her about it.  She laughed and quickly replied that her husband, Jamil,  had been reading her oldest daughter, Tahira, the "Little House on the Prairie" books each night before bed.  It was "their thing" and in the mornings, he wrote her letters addressed to Laura and signed them Pa.

She sheepishly handed me a stack of letters.

My heart melted.

I imagined Tahira cuddled up next to Jamil, eagerly awaiting to hear about Laura's newest adventures.  I could almost see her stumbling into the kitchen the next morning, rubbing her sleepy eyes and smiling widely as she spotted the note from her "Pa".

This sweet moment shared between father and daughter made me wonder what had happened to the old box set of Laura Ingalls books that my grandmother used to have.  When I was visiting her this past weekend I inquired about them and she said they should still be upstairs.  If I could find them, they were mine.

Sitting next to me as I type this is a box filled with nine light blue books.
The entire collection of "Little House on the Prairie".
I have read the first one of the series, "The Little House in the Big Woods" and can not wait to crack the binding on the second one tonight.

Some nights, I read them alone snuggled in my bed, wishing that instead of central heat, I was nestled next to a warm fire.  Other nights, I read to Grace as I rock her to sleep in the rocking chair.  In those brief moments I think of how so much has changed in the 144 years since Laura Ingalls was born, but how much is still the same.
I think about Jamil, 2 blocks over, hunched over the kitchen table writing a letter for Tahira to find in the morning. I think about how much joy this small gesture brings into her tiny world.
I think about how families are so different.
I think about how families are the same.
I think about how mothers have been rocking and loving their babies since the dawn of time and I cannot help but feel a strong connection to the people, who without these books, would be long forgotten.

Somehow, through the ink that spreads across the pages, they live on.  For a few minutes a night they are alive again; laughing, learning, sharing, playing the fiddle, drowning cornmeal griddle cakes in maple syrup,working hard and loving one another. They are a family.

                                         

“When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, "What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?" 
"They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said. "Go to sleep, now." 
But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods,… 
She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.” 
― Laura Ingalls Wilder