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By Missy, on July 23, 2010
Holy crap, we have a lot of stuff we’re dragging with us on vacation! It’s 95% piled in the front hallway. Looking at it all stacked to the ceiling, I can’t help but wonder about the physics of cramming THAT much stuff into the trunks of 2 Toyota Priuses (Prii?).
Despite our best efforts, we may end up using the incredibly dorky but exceedingly functional car-top carrier. Because THAT’S what you want to broadcast to your fellow travelers! “We can’t bring less than a houseful of stuff on a one-week vacation! Yay, overpacking!”
Then again, we’re not actually bringing things we won’t be using. Beach towels just take up a lot of room. As does gin. And we are looking at stuff that will need to keep 6 people clothed, dry, and entertained for a week. So maybe it’s not too much stuff after all.
(One thing I *will* be bringing? The new Pesky J. Nixon CD. The one you can still win by entering the giveaway! Go leave a comment to enter!)
By Missy, on July 22, 2010
So, some of my bestest friends in the whole world are in a band called Pesky J. Nixon out of Boston. And said friends will be headlining at the world famous Caffe Lena in a few short weeks.
Let me say that again so my point is not missed. My friends will be HEADLINING at CAFFE FREAKING LENA on August 15.
If you are anywhere near Saratoga, NY or have the means to be there on August 15, you just have to get tickets and go see the show. The Pesky boys will be the main act and I promise you, their live show is not to be missed. This show will serve as the CD release of their brand new EP, Monkey Business & Mislaid Hopes. Which rocks. But that goes without saying.
You can get tickets by visiting the Caffe Lena website and they’re a bargain. Plus, not for nothing, Caffe Lena has some of the best chocolate chip cookies outside of my kitchen. And that’s saying something.
In the meantime, I have got a copy of Monkey Business to give away to a lucky reader of this very blog! Need to read a review of the album? Well I don’t have time to write on right this second, but I’ll try to get to it. In the meantime, you can go read this review.
To enter the giveaway, leave a comment and tell me a story about music. Can’t think of a story about music? Just say “hi”. One comment per reader, please. On Saturday, July 31 I’ll pick one reader comment at random and that commenter will be the winner! Good luck!
And don’t forget to buy your tickets for the show! (Let me know if you’re going so we can say “hi!”)
By Missy, on July 21, 2010
No this post title does not refer to not-my-dog, who does in fact still live in my house. We’ve sort of decided that we’re not his owners, we’re his managers, at least for the time being. That’s all we’ll commit to. Go re-read his whole long, tragic history and you’ll understand my reluctance to calling this dog my own.
But anyway, that’s not what I’m not keeping.
Because I am not black (I know, you’re shocked!!) I am less familiar with the wide, wide range of ethnic hair care products available today, many of which are *required* to keep Abby’s hair well-conditioned and looking good. When I find something that works, I tend to stick to it and I swear by Carol’s Daughter, and especially their Hair Milk. It’s just wonderful, plus it smells GREAT.
So imagine my delight when the geniuses at Carol’s Daughter created a new Hair Milk shampoo and conditioner to create a new line. I went to order it online and decided to check out whether Amazon had it (our Prime account often gets us cheap shipping). Lo and behold, I merrily clicked away and soon had the Hair Milk shampoo, conditioner and original hairdress in my virtual cart along with some other leave-in conditioner for my little pool rat and some color glaze for me. Yay! One-stop shopping!
And then things started arriving one at a time from tiny little resellers – those third parties who sell on Amazon. Frankly, I didn’t even notice that my cart was being filled from 4 different stores, only one of which was actually Amazon.
The shampoo and conditioner were taking forever to get here, and I was getting a little nervous about getting Abby’s hair washed and conditioned before our vacation because Neila’s coming on Friday to do a three-week-’do. It’s not that I have NO other hair care options, but I was excited to try this new product and see how it works. Otherwise it’ll be another three weeks until I have a chance. See three-week-’do, referenced above.
Finally my package arrived and I had this magic, wonderful Hair Milk stuff in my possession. Then yesterday I opened the box and took out the bottle and what the…??? Why is this bottle all sticky? Why is the inside of this BOX all sticky?? I looked at the shampoo bottle and took it to the sink to wipe off the spilled shampoo. When I twisted off the cap to see if the seal had broken, the inner seal wasn’t even attached to the bottle. Hence the leak. The same was true for the conditioner.
I thought “I’m sending this back.” Then I thought “Nah, that’s paranoid.”
Then I thought “Wait a second. I’ve never actually experienced this product before. I don’t know what it looks like or smells like. I have two bottles without inner seals that could be filled with generic Pantene for all I know and I’m supposed to just trust that they’re not tampered with and smear the contents all over my child’s head?? I don’t think so.”
So I made Brian send an email to inquire about returning the products.
And I called Sephora and put a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner on hold.
I guess the point of this post (yes, I wrote this many words without knowing for sure what the point was) would be “buyer beware”. When you’re buying stuff online, make sure you know who the seller is. And if it seems fishy, take advantage of the return policy.
So tell me, was I being paranoid? Would you have kept the products or sent them back? Help me, internet, help me!!
By Missy, on July 14, 2010
I’m tempted not to post this because then everyone will know about it. At the end of the month (220 hours from the time of this writing, but who’s counting?), we’re going on a big Griswold-style family vacation to my favorite vacation spot in the whole world. How good can it be? It so good that whenever I do a guided meditation and have to picture the most relaxing place I can think of, I think of this place.
This place? Is Linekin Bay Resort in Boothbay Harbor, Maine. The first time I went to this resort I was 9 months old and not allowed to eat in the dining room. At the time, Mrs. Branch didn’t like little kids running around the dining room, which I can sort of understand. These days, they have a huge supply of high chairs for kids of all sizes.
Linekin is most decidedly not for everyone. The accommodations are rustic. breathtakingly beautiful but rustic. It’s cabins and lodges and still has the feel of the girls’ camp it was in a past life. There are no locks on the doors and only 1 phone in the whole resort. There’s a pool, some shuffleboard and sailboats. That’s about it.
But there are beautiful quilts on the beds and knotty pine everywhere you look. You get fed 3 fresh, square meals a day. Lobster bake on the lawn twice a week. They added WiFi about 4 years ago and installed a full-service bar in the old TV room. Everyone brings board games and makes new friends in the lodges in the evenings. It’s a 20 minute walk (or 10 minute drive) to town, where there’s fresh ice cream and tchotchkes as far as the eye can see.
In short, there’s is plenty to do, but nothing you *have* to do. No schedule (aside from the ringing of the meal bell in the dining room). Bring books, board games and bathing suits and have a ball.
Our family loaded up the minvan many, many summers while I was growing up and headed off to Linekin. It was there that I learned just how much I like sailing (turns out it’s a lot!) And learned how much I like lobster (also, a lot!) I found out that I could very easily go a whole week with NO TV. I know! The shock, the horror!
To say that I’m excited about bringing Abby to my childhood “spot” is a bit of an understatement. Emily’s coming for the first time, too, and we’re having a bit of a family reunion while we’re up there. I am beyond excited and Mom has accused me of already being there in spirit if not in body. She’s right. I promise to take a bazillion pictures and give a full report when I get back.
And If you don’t have plans for next summer yet, you should think about heading up north for about them most relaxing vacation there is.
By Missy, on July 12, 2010
I think I will have spent more nights out of my own bed this month than in it. It happens, and I’m really, truly, blissfully happy for the work that’s taken me out of my bed (and will put me in a bed at Linekin Bay resort at the end of the month).
In the great rush to get everything done before I head to the airport (again) to catch the 3:00 shuttle to Chicago (again) I found myself updating my iPhone yesterday.
Tangent! Why is it always a great rush to get out of the house? No matter how far ahead I start gathering stuff, I’m always rummaging or flinging or finding Abby artwork in my purse. I’ve started a packing list for Maine TWO WEEKS before we leave and yet I just *know* there will be last minute scrambling, stuffing, sweating and swearing. Maybe I need to put the 4 S’s of travle on a t-shirt.
Back to the iPhone, I was downloading new albums and making new playlists and it struck me just how regimented I keep my music. I have separate playlists for Abby, Missy, Folk & Acoustic, a couple of Genius playlists (where iTunes picks 23 songs that match your selected song in tempo and/or genre) and now Praise & Worship. I could easily pull together a Showtunes list and possibly a Meditation list. I desperately need a Facilitation list (songs to facilitate by).
And yet I can’t file a piece of paper without being reduced to tears. For paper, I’m a piler. We exist, I swear! We tend to be right-brained and very visual, so having all our stuff out in piles makes sense to us. We can find you any one piece of paper you need in that teetering stack, too.
So here’s what I want to know. What is it about electronic data that makes me so Type-A anal retentive? But God forbid I try and actually put papers in file folders without getting the shakes? Any and all advice welcome, including “Get over it.”
By Missy, on July 7, 2010
(First off, my apologies. This post has been floating around in my brain forever, but I literally haven’t had time to sit and write it. Things are a bit – crazy around here.)
I try and live my life with the sense that this is a world of abundance. There is abundance all around us and I’ve never understood those who live as though we’re ALWAYS in a period of scarcity.
I can think of a billion things my life is overflowing with right now. People to love. Jobs to work on. Peach flavored sour rings. Paperwork. Abby artwork. Creative energy. Leftover chicken.
And of course, there is a scarcity of some stuff. Time, always. Money on the last day of the month.
But on the whole, I’ve got more than enough. Life is abundant and I am just truly, richly blessed.
By Missy, on June 11, 2010
Rough translation: who has the bigger d*ck? See also: a pissing contest.
Yesterday morning was rough. Abby got up, got dressed and fed the cat, all without much complaint or foot-dragging. She got complacently into the car and gave Daddy big kisses when he departed for the train. All seemed good. I should have known it was all about to fall apart.
We pulled into the garage and Abby’s mood changed without explanation. The previously promised blueberry pancakes slowly slipped out of her reach as she spent more and more time refusing to get out of the car. I went inside, made a pot of coffee and ate a bowl of cereal. Then I went back out to the car (where Abby was still sitting stubbornly in her carseat) and informed the child that she now had almost no time for breakfast at all. She needed to take her nebulizer treatment and get ready for school and we were running out of time to do both.
As I turned back into the house I heard “Mommy, I wanna try dat again! I want blueberry pancakes!!” I faced her, put on my saddest mommy-face and said “I’m really sorry you chose to spend your time sulking in the car. Because you wouldn’t come in the house, we don’t have the time to make you blueberry pancakes. Right now we almost don’t even have time to fix you a bowl of cereal. Come in and eat.”
She followed me into the house, sniffling loudly. Then she sat on the floor and refused to pick a cereal, get a bowl or even sit at the table while I finished my coffee. At this point, we had legitimately run out of time. So I scooped her up and brought her into the TV room for the nebulizer treatment.
“Mommy, I hungry!! I wanna bowl a cereal!” “I’m sorry, Abby, you ran out of time by choosing to be mopey. Maybe, maybe, if you sit super still and let me braid your hair while you take your medicine, we can get you a baggie of cheerios to take in the car.”
She sat still as a statue, still occasionally sniffling. I got 2 French braids into her hair and 5MLs of albuterol into her lungs. I calmly poured some cheerios into a baggie while Abby picked out two different dolls. When I told her she could only bring one doll to school, she threw them on the floor and flopped around in a fit.
I handed the baggie of cereal to grandma and waited for Abby to stand up. “You lost those cheerios, kiddo. Sorry, but you chose to have a tantrum instead of being a good girl.”
“Mommy, I’ll be good. I promise. Can I haf the cheerios?”
“Abby, put one of the dolls away and walk over here. Then you can have the cheerios for the car.”
She meekly put the doll down, and stood by the door. By the time her seatbelt was on, she was laughing and smiling and ready for school. I don’t know for sure what changed between the kitchen and the garage to cause such a turnaround in attitude, but I’m thinking it had something to do with finding a boundary, not being allowed past it and feeling safe and comfortable in her world again.
This morning, she had another mini-fit about where to sit to eat breakfast. I simply told her that her pancakes (she’d earned them back) would be at the table and when she was ready to sit there, she could eat them. It wasn’t a whole minute before she was happily munching those Eggos.
I think she figured out that Mommy’s got the bigger… you know.
By Missy, on June 9, 2010
Travesty: 1. a burlesque treatment, imitation, or translation for purposes of ridicule. 2. a crude and ridiculous representation; a ludicrous distortion. – Webster’s Unabridged (and very heavy) Dictionary
I went to a travesty of a funeral yesterday. I decided my relationship to the deceased was best described as my sister-in-law’s brother-in-law although there would be no court record showing any legal connection amongst any of us. This is what happens sometimes when you go ahead and choose your family as you go along.
The funeral was supposedly a Mass of Christian Burial, as part of a Catholic Mass. I was surprised, the deceased had never struck me as being particularly Catholic, but that could be because I mostly saw him with his partner’s family for Jewish holidays and family celebrations. In any case, I’ve been to funerals for those who were, let’s just say, less than devout before. But this was the first time I ever apologized to the friends of the deceased.
The whole thing was a travesty. It was a travesty of my friend’s life – a big, out there, in-your-face, full of joy kind of life. To have a somber Mass, with a (dreadful) organ playing stale funeral songs (seriously, On Eagle’s Wings needs to be retired like now) just did not fit with his personality. His Jewish life partner felt out of place. Many of his friends form the gay community (in which he was central) didn’t seem all that comfortable. Thank God they came, because otherwise I would have seriously thought I was at the wrong church.
It was also a travesty of the Mass. It couldn’t have been plainer that the family and the priest were uncomfortable with the life he had lived. There was no eulogy. The priest hit some of the highlights of a life cut too short, but basically stopped in high school. You know, before my friend had come out of the closet. And, probably annoyed at the sheer number of heathens in his church the priest gave the nastiest invitation to Communion I’ve ever heard. Basically, he said if you don’t go to Church on Sundays, stay in your seats.
Now I’m pretty darn Catholic. And I understand and believe that the Eucharist is the body and blood of Christ. (No, I can’t *explain* it, but that’s faith for you – believing even when you can’t explain.) And I understand that traditionally, it is reserved for those of the Catholic faith. But to disinvite people from receiving was unnecessary. I’ve never once seen someone go to communion and head back to their seat giggling that they pulled one over on Jesus by taking a wafer when they didn’t believe. And really, it can’t hurt, you know, to allow more people to bring Christ into themselves. But it can (and did) hurt to exclude people by judging their faithfulness. (Gee, what if I’d missed Mass this week? Would I have been turned away?)
It seemed to me (seething in my seat) that the priest should have simply said “I’m sorry. I cannot celebrate this Mass. Please find another priest.” If he was that uncomfortable of who the deceased was, and how he lived his life, and knew him so little (because it was obvious the he didn’t really know the guy at all) he should have found someone else.
So I’m glad to hear that after the burial, several people made it back to my friend’s partner’s house and held a more fitting tribute. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it. It’s a shame that the shock, grief and narrow-mindedness of his parents didn’t allow him to have a better send-off. I’m sorry that some people had the impression that the Church didn’t care about my friend.
I know I did.
By Missy, on June 3, 2010
Scene: upstairs hallway at 6:00 a.m.
[From downstairs] Mommy? I downstairs.
Mmmmmph…?
I getting a broom to sweep da sand outta my bed.
Abby? Why is there sand in your bed? You know what? Mommy has to pee. You get started sweeping the sand. That’s a great idea.
OK, Mommy.
[Flush]
Abby, now tell Mommy why there’s sand in your bed. Aaaaaaah!!
[Sees laundry basket overturned on bed, clothes stacked on the outside, underpants stuffed into handles.]
Abby, what did you do to your laundry basket?
[Silence.]
Abby, why is your laundry basket on your bed?
[Crickets.]
Abby let me help you sweep the sand.
It’s OK, Mommy, I got it.
Alright, Abby I’m gonna go get dressed now.
[Sometimes it's just not worth asking...]
By Missy, on June 2, 2010
#mce_temp_url#I did a lot of baking last week. Friday was Jonathan’s birthday – he’s 30 and therefore OLD!! (Wait, I’m his OLDER sister. Aw, crap.) Emily asked me to make him a guitar cake in her guitar cake pan. It came out rather awesome, if I do say so myself.
 
And I don’t know what I did to please the pastry gods, but dear LORD that was some awesome chocolate buttercream frosting. Not like you can really go wrong with chocolate buttercream, but this batch came out particularly good. I may or may not have proposed to my stand mixer, Buddy.
Then on Saturday, we went to some friends’ for dinner and I brought along Pioneer Woman’s Blackberry Cobbler. Only I made it with blueberries. And love. And a metric ton of sugar, but that’s what the recipe calls for.
And then, for reasons unknown, Jonathan’s work was having a bake sale and he asked me to bake his contribution. It was his birthday weekend and I felt like I had to comply. So I invented these strawberry shortcake cupcakes. The idea came from another Pioneer Woman recipe (and I will be making the full-size cake for the 4th of July). But I knew a whole cake wouldn’t sell as well at a bake sale. So I looked up a recipe for pound cake, macerated some strawberries and got down to inventin’.
Basically, I made the pound cake batter and scooped some into my baking cups. I probably filled the cups about a third of the way full. I smooshed the batter down a little to give myself an indentation into which to load the strawberries. Then I layered on lots of mashed strawberries that had been sitting in sugar getting all syrupy and delightful. Topped off the strawberries with a bit more batter and baked. Then I iced them with cream cheese frosting and garnished with half a strawberry.
Aren’t they pretty??
Full recipe and directions can be found in my first Tasty Kitchen recipe!
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