NaBloPoMo

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Five for Friday

Perhaps you are wondering, what the hell am I doing?! Well, apparently I am participating in NaBloPoMo, although not here; I’m writing a post every day in November over on my book blog. And apparently I am also still posting in this space too (though not every day!), because I am… on the other extreme of the posting pendulum?? out of my gourd??? an asshole???? I don’t know. I don’t expect you to read any of it and I’m sorry. I have a problem.  

A warning. I made these amazing and delicious sugar-free, gluten-free – and yet legit delicious! I swear! although Carla and my husband disagree! – brownies again for Halloween. When I made them the first time, I bought a package of super expensive Medjool dates at my grocery store (the sweetness of the brownies comes from dates, spoiler alert) (I don’t even LIKE dates, but these brownies are good) and my only complaint about the brownies was that it is a pain in the rear to pit all the dates. But! THIS TIME I spotted a bag of Dole pitted dates that was, like, HALF the price of the fancy dates, so I bought that to save both money and time, am a genius. To make the brownies, you pulse chocolate and baking soda in a food processor, add dates, then add eggs and vanilla and pour everything into a pan and bake. Easy peasy, delicious. Halfway through making the brownies, my food processor started smoking and kind of stopped working. This is called foreshadowing. I have clearly not watched enough horror movies, so I just thought it was my food processor’s time. I’ve had that thing since 2008, and it’s lived a long and productive life. Time for a new one. I scraped the date mixture into my blender, which had no trouble turning everything into a nice uniform-but-very-sticky goo, poured the batter into the pan, and baked. The brownies were delicious and soft and I frosted them by pouring some chocolate chips on top while they were still warm, and then spreading the melty chips all over the top. My husband gamely agreed to try one, and bit into it… and right into a DATE PIT. So. This very elaborate and somewhat boring story is in service of warning you to still inspect all of the dates, even if they are supposedly PITTED. I suppose this is the baking equivalent of “never trust a blinker.” Never trust a pitted fruit claim, folks, you heard it here first.

My orchid is reblooming! I got this orchid as a gift way back in 2017. It has rebloomed a few times since then but for the first time in my memory, it has THREE blooms instead of one. I think it’s very happy in its new spot on my mantel. 

My kid attended her first b’nai mitzvah of the season last week. When I first posted that she has six to attend this year, a couple of people had questions. Suz wanted to know, “Does that mean six different dresses and six different gifts?” and Eli wondered, “I want to know what one wears to a b’nai Mitzvah! And what kind of gifts is one supposed to give?” Well, first of all, I am a Mean Mom and I only allowed Carla to get two dresses. (And please understand that “only” is in giant scare quotes because that is PLENTY OF DRESSES, she is very spoiled.) (And also, it’s really FOUR dresses, because I bought her two appropriate-for-synagogue dresses as well, that she can wear to the ceremonies.) What girls wear to the party portion of b’nai mitzvah in our area are short fancy dresses and sneakers. Yes. Together. It is my understanding that the dresses are of the same style as those girls are wearing to homecoming. They are very short, sometimes very form fitting. They do not, in my opinion, seem at all appropriate for a middle schooler. And yet they are The Trend. All of us seventh grade moms have been fretting together about the dresses and how uncomfortable they make us, and reassuring ourselves and one another that it’s The Trend and it’s Just A Dress etc. Much as moms have done for time immemorial, I’m sure. For gifts, we are doing cold, hard cash. It is apparently standard to give money in multiples of 18, which is a significant number in some Jewish traditions. 

I made aloo gobi last week, and it was delicious. (It was not, my husband pointed out, much like aloo gobi one would get in a restaurant, but it was still flavorful and tasty and warming.) In the comments, Jenny asked: “That Aloo Gobi looks good- but I looked at the recipe and it has some unusual ingredients- mango powder? Coriander leaves? Do you have those things or are you making a substitution?” I did not, in fact, have mango powder on hand. But I do NOW; I went to the South Asian grocery store and they had multiple varieties of mango powder so I bought some. I also got some Kashmiri red chili powder. I did not, however, get fenugreek leaves, mistakenly believing (and failing to look up until later) that the leaves are the same thing in my container of ground fenugreek. Oh no. The ground fenugreek is fenugreek seeds, and has a totally different flavor from the leaves. Oh well. Next time. The rest of the ingredients – including coriander leaves (cilantro) – I had on hand, and now I can make aloo gobi any old time I want. 

My CPAP machine comes with an app and gives me a daily score. This is very effective for me, because I like to get an A. Right now, I have a B, which is apparently due to the number of times I got up at night and removed my mask. As Allison noted, “I still don’t really understand them giving you a CPAP when I thought your problem was more insomnia-based, but I hope it helps!” I also still don’t really understand it either, Allison. And now I’m getting a B on my CPAP score because I get up too many times in the night and remove my mask. Am I not supposed to pee, CPAP App???? Or what if my cat is scratching the bench at the end of the bed? Am I supposed to just let him shred the upholstery???? And if my legs are twitching uncontrollably, am I just supposed to lie there and NOT SLEEP? Doubtful; you’d probably dock me points for being awake, too. Oh yes, look: hours of sleep do in fact earn points, and I got a score of 58 out of 70 for wearing my mask “only” 5.7 hours. FUN FUN FUN. 

    Okay, that’s all I have today. If you prefer to go check out today’s nonsense over at the book blog, I will see you there. (This is probably Way Too Much Suzanne, and I get that.) 

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    Three Things Thursday

    Let’s face it, Three Things Thursday is just Randomosity in a different jacket. 

    Tonight is the last night of NaBloPoMo, and I am here not through gumption or grit but through gin. 

    1. Kids and Homework: My daughter attends a cushy private school and this is the first year that she has had homework. (I know.) (I was a public school kid; it is very different.) Being a parent while your child works on school projects is its own kind of challenge. You want to be supportive but also encouraging. You want to make sure your kid does their assignments but you want them to have their own autonomy and also you don’t want to exert undue pressure. You want to be available to offer help or support but you don’t want to hover. IT IS VERY CHALLENGING. My husband came to the dinner table tonight and hissed that one of the sentences my daughter wrote didn’t make sense, and he tried to talk it through with her, and she decided to leave it as it was. As a Straight A Student, Ivy League Educated Physician, this is VERY DIFFICULT. But. As his mother kindly pointed out: It is our job as parents to support and encourage. It is the TEACHERS’ job to correct and instruct. 
    2. Cooking for Not My Immediate Family: I made salmon and green beans and potatoes. I followed a recipe. Everything was cooked but it was not great. My husband, who is to-a-fault honest about these things, gave a shoulder-shrugging “meh” when I mouthed “how is it?” across the table to him. And, sadly, I agree. I HATE THAT. I want to be The Best Cook. I want my in laws to go home and talk about my cooking. I want them to request my recipes. I want my mother-in-law to brag about how great a cook her daughter-in-law is when she plays majohng. But the truth is, I am a mediocre home cook. My husband and I have a few recipes we jointly love, and the rest are just meh or winging it. And that’s got to be okay, even if it hurts my ego. The other problem I have is in not having ANY CLUE how much food to make for more people than my husband and myself. I think he and I tend to eat pretty giant portions, so maybe that skews things? But I made WAY too much food. Like, we are going to have to eat multiples of this exact same (mediocre) meal before all the leftovers are gone too much food. I have literally no idea how to figure out the right amount of food to cook. Recipes are no help. One person’s six portions is another person’s three.
    3. Introverting Hard: Tonight, my husband was falling asleep, my father-in-law was falling asleep, and my mother-in-law was on the phone, so I nudged my husband and told him I was going to bed. Yes, it was 9:10 pm. He narrowed his sleepy eyes at me and said, “But you aren’t really going to bed, are you.” This is after having come into our bedroom last night 45 minutes or so after I’d excused myself to go to bed, and I was sitting in our bedroom typing on the computer. I NEED TIME TO MYSELF, MAN. How does he not know this, after 15 years of marriage and 22 years of being together???? I am worn out! The thing is, I had a FABULOUS day. My in laws were out of the house all day, doing whatever it is they do when they visit. My husband was able to pick up my daughter from school. I had nearly unadulterated alone time from 9:00 to 5:00 and it was BEAUTIFUL. So why, after a mere two hours with my in laws, am I ready to throw in the towel and secrete myself away in my bedroom? Because I am the introvertest of introverts, I guess. 

    Well. That’s all I’ve got tonight, Internet. Thanks for sticking with me, these past 30 days of NaBloPoMo. I cannot promise to post tomorrow, but I am sure I will be back soon with inane topics to discuss. In the meantime, I appreciate you for reading. And thank you, so much, to San for leading the charge.

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    Wednesday Randomosity: Squeaking in at the Last Hour Again

    Okay, maybe it isn’t the last hour, but it’s pretty late. 

    Once again, all I have for you is a collection of small random things I’m thinking about. But first: I am typing this from the armchair (Stephany: Pottery Barn Kids, purchased in 2013) in the corner of my room while my husband entertains his parents. An owl is hooting halfheartedly outside, or perhaps it is a mourning dove; they have similarly soft voices. 

    From my vantage point, I can admire the new lamps for our nightstands, which arrived today! My husband set them up and they are lovely! I am still not 100% in love with the shape of them, I think, but I like the color (blue on ivory) and I really like the soft arcs of light they throw off. The dimmest setting is not as dim as I’d hoped (I wake up at the slightest provocation, so wanted dimmable lamps so my husband could see without jolting me out of sleep every night), but they will do, probably. 

    I haven’t had a lamp on my nightstand since we moved in, so I’m very pleased about the presence of LIGHT! and I feel like I will warm up to the shape of the lamps.

    Furnace: My furnace emailed me today. First of all, I didn’t know it could do that. Secondly, it is the kind of furnace that apparently only deigns to talk to you if there’s a problem. No, “Hey, how’s it going?” No checking in on how *I* am doing, just reporting issues like we don’t live in the same house together. 

    THIS CAN’T BE GOOD.

    It wanted to let me know that “your system briefly stopped heating your home several times.” What? Why? ARGH. I don’t know what’s going on with my furnace, but the whole thing is worrisome. We had our HVAC people out a couple months ago to do a check up, and they reported that the system is working fine. But it’s aging, as are we all, and the HVAC technician strongly suggested I register for the extended warranty on the furnace. But when I called, they said I only had 90 days from the day we bought our house to purchase the warranty, and they needed a copy of my title and the title transfer paperwork to get the process going. The title and paperwork we did not yet have. So I called the title company and asked where was our title, and they said it had been mailed, coincidentally, earlier that same week, and we waited for it, and it never showed up, and I badgered and it didn’t arrive and then the 90 day furnace warranty extension period evaporated. So. We don’t have the extended warranty on our furnace. (We do, finally, as of two weeks ago, have the title for our house. Not the original, which has apparently been lost to the whim of the US Postal Service, but a copy, which I had to prod and bother for.) This is all to say: of course our furnace is absolutely going to die now, isn’t it. 

    Someone asked recently if I am feeling more settled now, and the answer is yes: more settled. But am I loving our house? Not yet. I am still hopeful it can happen. But right now, it still feels like there is so much. So many things to take care of, new problems popping up all the time. And with my in laws here — well, this is the first time they have been to this house, so we are showing everything to them and revisiting the early days of owning this place. Plus, they tend to be… quick to see the negatives in a situation, and they seem to often feel like people are out to get us all. So I am plunged back into feeling pretty low about the whole thing. I think (I hope) that this is all Part of Moving, and I am holding on to Jen’s assurance (HI JEN) that it will take me a good six months to feel like this is home. Maybe by the end of February I’ll feel better? Let’s check back then. Maybe my furnace and I will be on better terms.

    Face (again): I know I just talked about face-washing yesterday, but it’s top of mind because a) my face is in A Right State lately and b) I had to buy a new bottle of Cetaphil face wash from Target and c) I just had a dermatology follow up to my diagnosis of rosacea. The dermatology appointment was a little disheartening. I don’t know what I expected, honestly. My skin hasn’t improved. If anything, it seems to break out more frequently than ever. The dermatologist kind of shrugged and said that it’s a chronic condition and there’s nothing I can really do to get rid of it. So. That’s the disheartening part.

    I also had questions about the sulfur-based face wash I have been using (works pretty well, makes me smell faintly of sulfur which is unpleasant and self-conscious making) and I also wanted to ask a Vanity question. Background: I have been using either Cetaphil or the sulfur face wash to clean my face. When my face feels like a desert dune, I also use Cerave moisturizer. As a result of this regimen, I feel like my face looks SO OLD. Crepey and wrinkly and bleh. Fine lines really get a good grip when the skin is dry, I think. (I really, really miss my Beauty Counter face oil.) So one of the questions I had for my dermatologist was WHAT CAN I DO. WHY HAST YOUTH FORSAKEN ME SO. Etc. The dermatologist recommended – brace yourself – Vaseline. On my face. Like. All over it. 

    I use Vaseline on my lips, and, yes, it seems to stave off the flakiness (although I don’t think I’ve used it yet in the dead of winter, so I will report back). But… on my whole face??? How would I sleep? My pillow would become an oil slick. Is this… a real suggestion? I feel like it cannot work and yet: I would try a lot of things in the name of vanity. 

    Fashion: My husband’s holiday work party is coming up and once again I have no idea what to wear. It’s sort of dressy, although people wear a wide range of clothing items. Last year I wore black Ponte pants and a black top and maybe a sparkly necklace. What should I wear this year? 

    By posting at night two nights in a row, I feel like I’ve really messed with the rhythm of this blog. And also, I still have houseguests, so I am guessing I will post again (if at all) late tomorrow night. But we are down to the wire of NaBloPoMo, and I am not going to fail now, Internet! 

    I am kinda sorta attempting to complete NaBloPoMo, with the full expectation that life will make it impossible any day now. If you want to follow along, or join the fun, check out San’s blog here.