Christmas con Queso

Well, hey there. We've been a bit out of the loop this Holiday because we've spent the majority of it home home on the ranch. Plus then on Boxing Day, the Hurricane and I traveled even further outside the loop to spend a few days at the other ranch, or the hunting ranch, as my three-year-old niece calls it. Because people I'm related to regularly shoot things with bows and arrows. That's right. You really shouldn't mess with me. And yes, you did read that correctly, because I'm from Texas, we have two ranches. And yes, of course, I rode a horse to school everyday, silly. And, um, duh, it goes without saying that I sold guns door to door for the church choir fundraiser. And yes, that's right, it's completely true that dancing was always illegal in my hometown until a smart-talking city boy with mixed tapes and killer gymnastic skills moved in, taught us all some sweet moves, and motivated us to confront the city council in order to host our own illegal prom across the county line where everybody cut everybody cut everybody cut footloose with Kenny Loggins and Shalamar. Living in Texas is totally and exactly like it is in the movies. Or on the news. Exactly. So anyway, that's why I've been away. We don't have the internet way out here. Or phones. Or electricity. Or Oreos. We mainly just sit around by the campfire and drink sasparilla. And shoot guns in the air. That's pretty much all I've been doing. Oh and driving across county lines to dance. And so speaking of that. I'll be out of pocket again for the next few days or so. Because the HcQ and I are driving across county lines to completely treat ourselves to some quality time at a five-star resort and spa. Where we're totally going to be shooting our guns in the air. And wearing conchos. And spitting. Because that's how we roll. In Texas. So please don't mess with us.

Photo lifted from and featured at stonehousecollection dot com.

Go Elf Yourself.

“Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered.” --Phyllis Diller

Earlier this week, I went to the post office to mail gifts to family members whom, sadly, we will not see over the holidays. And as I stood in line with all the other grumpies, it occurred to me that I was spending at least four times the amount of time waiting to mail these gifts than I did actually purchasing and wrapping them. Because Christmas shopping is getting ridiculously easy. Too easy.

Back in the day, like way back in 1997, I would spend hours, days, months figuring out just the right gift to gift people. I would find a perfect gift for someone in April, buy it, and look forward to surprising them eight months later. On some odd level, Christmas shopping started the day after Christmas, for the next year. I was always mindful, always thinking ahead, always contemplating how I could surprise someone with that unexpected gift.

But not anymore.

Now, we draw names. Which, let’s be honest, does have its perks. Because, thanks to the name drawing, Christmas has become exceedingly smaller. And less expensive. And easy. In fact, it’s embarrassingly easy. There are so few presents to purchase, I feel like I’m done before I’ve even started. We’ve gone from buying sleighloads of gifts to buying one. One. And there’s no need to even be thinking about two. Because extra gifts are not met with gratitude, but with condemnation. It’s ugly. And it’s really not worth the overachievement. So you only do your assigned one. One.

Also with this system, you don’t know who your selected one might be until sometime around Thanksgiving. Which means, you really can’t even begin thinking about presents until you know for whom you may purchase a present. So if I see the very perfect gift for my sister-in-law, well, no point in buying it because odds are 8 to 1 that I’m not getting her name.

But here’s the real kicker. Today, there is no real reason to even think about what to give someone. Because they tell you.

Brilliant marketing minds have made our lives so much easier with the personalized wish list Christmas registries. They’re like grown-up letters to Santa sent directly to your email address with specific pricing and click-to-order-now-now-now options. Without getting into too much detail (because family members who are right in the middle of the secret name drawing game read the Queso), I’ll just say that the HcQ and I were able to shop for all of our presents this year from our kitchen table and from registries. Christmas list registries. We just visited the Web site provided to us, clicked some of the items suggested to us, and we were, um, done. It took little to no thought, planning, creativity or effort. A few clicks and it was practically Boxing Day. But it seems something got lost in the process. Thought. Creativity. Effort. A trained monkey could Christmas shop like this. So I’m not sure I like it.

What about you? Where do you stand on the easy shopping options? The name drawing? The gift card giving? The specific item request lists? The Holiday Gift Registries? The people wanting cash for Christmas? What’s your take? And what are you giving this holiday season?

I asked the Merkin, when came over for dinner the other night, what he thought about all of it. As we all consumed a bottle of Cakebread and the HcQ’s birthday cake, he confirmed that he likes anything that makes gifting go faster. He’s smart and streamlined like that. However, I don’t think I am. Because I like the guessing, the wonder, the potentially getting it wrong but often fantastically getting it right. I like the surprise.

And so I was thinking about all of this in my four-mile-long Post Office queue. And I kind-of got sad. Because I started missing the old days of unique gifting, the ghosts of Christmas past tense and the thoughtful unexpected present.

I miss the surprise.

And then it was finally my turn. I stepped up to the counter to mail my treasures, and I found that I had a package of my own to collect. Someone had sent me a gift. An unexpected, surprise gift.

It seems our friend Mark* is quite the potter. And quite the gifter. A while ago, he read and remembered that I’d been looking for the perfect pie plate. So he made me one. From scratch. And for the surprise of it all. And he sent it to me in the mail. When I got over the shock and thanked him that afternoon, he said he’d made it because he likes surprising people with things they never expected to get. I get that. And thanks to Mark, I got the world's most perfect pie plate, and what's more, I got my gifting spirit back. (And the HcQ got an amazing pie out of the deal.)

And speaking of the HcQ and creative gifting, here’s my gift to all of you from the HcQ , the Hurricane and me. So ho ho ho and Merry Christmas from Casa con Queso!

I wish you all the most wonderful of holidays. I hope you and yours are both holly and jolly. And I definitely hope you all take some time to make an elf of yourself.

*Mark rules.

Christmastime is Here.

Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all that children call
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air
Carols everywhere
Olden times and ancient rhymes
Of love and dreams to share

Sleigh bells in the air
Beauty everywhere
Yuletide by the fireside
And joyful memories there

Christmas time is here
We'll be drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year...

This has been a go-to-your-happy-place Public Service Announcment, brought to you by those who are also up to their eyeballs in traffic, lists, lines, scotch tape, cart banging, parking lot raging, scrooges, details, sugar, crowds, salespeople who laugh at you when you ask if they have any Nintendo Wiis, and more.

Cookiepalooza 2006.

A Balanced Diet is a Cookie
in Each Hand.

Every year, a friend of mine throws a gigantic holiday cookie exchange party. Everyone is asked to bake a batch of cookies...and by a batch, I mean a hell of a lot; tripling or quadrupling a recipe...and then bring that batch over to her amazingly fantastic house. She is Christian, her husband is Jewish, and their house is filled with a wide variety of fantastic holiday trimmings, doings and goings on. I'm telling you, it's festive, people.

At this point, we each spend the day in the most gigantic kitchen ever making even more extremely large batches of entirely different kinds of cookies. Then, everyone lays the thousands of tiny treats out on the dining room table to divide, conquer and bag up all the sugared varieties. We all head home with giant trashbags full of sweets thrown over our shoulders, as if we were 300 lb. senior citizens circling the globe with livestock.

It's cookie making on sterioids. And it's surprisingly fun.

Every year, I look forward to it, and every year I always completely dread the necessary day-before preparation. The measuring. The mixing. The mashing. The mind-boggling baking marathon. Because as much as I luhuve cookies, it takes some serious time and energy to make 700 dozen of them.

But the joy of the baking day is always worth it. I'm not terribly craftsy, homemakey and/or domesticky, but there's something about making lots of cookies with lots of friends in the most gigantic kitchen ever...complete with wassail and lots of champagne...that just puts me in the holiday spirit. In fact, I've found it doesn't really feel like the holidays until I've spent a day covered in flour, icing, and red and blue sugar crystals.

And even better, everyone goes home with about 25 dozen different kinds of cookies. This year I was able to make cookie trays for everyone who works in my office. Literally. I came in on Monday with the sweet offerings of inexpensive, much appreciated, quickly vanishing gifts. I'm super popular at the office right now.

Plus, my contributions to the exchange turned out really swell and looked a lot like this.

Chewy Molasses-Spice Cookies*

2 cups whole-wheat flour (spooned and leveled)
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups sugar
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 large egg
1/4 cup molasses

1. Preheat oven to 350°. In a medium bowl, whisk flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. In a shallow bowl, place 1/2 cup sugar; set aside.

2. With an electric mixer, beat butter and remaining cup of sugar until combined. Beat in egg and then molasses until combined. Reduce speed to low; gradually mix in dry ingredients, just until a dough forms.

3. Pinch off and roll dough into balls, each equal to 1 tablespoon. Roll balls in reserved sugar to coat.

4. Arrange balls on baking sheets, about 3 inches apart. Bake, one sheet at a time, until edges are just firm, 10 to 15 minutes (cookies can be baked two sheets at a time, but they will not crackle uniformly). Cool 1 minute on baking sheets; transfer to racks to cool completely. Store in an airtight container, 3 to 4 days.

*Recipe and photo from Martha Stewart dot com.

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Chocolate Rum Balls

3 1/4 cups crushed vanilla wafers
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
1 1/2 cups chopped nuts
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
1/2 cup rum

Combine crushed vanilla wafers, 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar, cocoa and nuts. Blend in corn syrup and rum. Shape into 1-inch balls; roll in additional confectioners' sugar. Store in an airtight container several days to develop flavor. Roll again in confectioners' sugar before serving.


So what are your favorite seasonal cookie recipes? Please do tell. And add your pick to the Queso cookie exchange by posting it in comments, or linking us to your place or your recipe book of choice.

Happy Holidays. And Happy Cookies. From the house of Queso to you and yours.

Who Is This Poor Woman and Why Won't You Leave Her Alone??!!

I see these people way more often than I see my own family. Or friends. Or actual classmates. In fact, I feel like I know them. And I'll just go ahead and say, I feel bad for her. Honestly. I mean, she has to deal with having that scary-phase freshman-year photo plastered everywhere along with the not-so-veiled insult. And, really, what's so great about him? He doesn't look like the most amazing life partner ever. Because I'm pretty positive he's not all that sensitive, ambitious, or helpful raising all those seven kids. In fact, I'm quite sure she's the glue, keeping it all together, pulling the weight for the whole family of nine...while he's running around in his Z28, drinking Miller High Life, listening to Sammy Hagar or something. So, yes, she married him. And I, for one, think he needs to just thank his lucky stars everyday that she doesn't dump him and run off with that french-horn-playing math-genius she used to date in high school. But that's just me.

Suh. Weet.

When I was in eighth grade, I took Algebra II. And I sat next to this guy who, during tests, would very often say to himself (very outloud) "Suh..weet!!!" In the middle of the test. You see, he was celebrating his Algebraic genius, as I squirmed in the next desk, mathematically challenged and completely confused. It was very annoying. However. Just as we take on the annoying tendencies of our parents, I have found myself taking on the high-fiving-himself cheer of 13-year-old Corey Vaughn. When I see something I likey, I sometimes say, "Suh. Weet." It's annoying. But fun. Try it.

This weekend, I found myself saying it often, as I read the entire Internet. Here's my list of SuhWeet things going on around here. (I'll go ahead and write them in a list. Because it's the holiday season, and I'm almost exclusively communicating in lists. Because apparently I have turned into my mother.)
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A. Liz at Mom 101 wrote a great post about what I was going to write about, so I'm just going to link to hers. She covers all the do gooding goings on quite well. I especially want to point out the part she wrote about a great auction/raffle thing going on right now. It's for a little boy named Tanner, who I haven't been able to stop thinking about for months. He's an amazing little person, and I think about him and his family almost every day. Here's what Liz says...

Kristen of Motherhood Uncensored and Julie of Mothergoosemouse have created "Her Bad Auction," a series of raffles to raise money for muscular distrophy research. The name of the event refers to awesome Canuck blogmistress and one of my favorite human beings on this planet, Catherine of Her Bad Mother, whose nephew Tanner, is living with the disease. And while I haven't met him yet, from what I know about him, I think he'd be one of my favorite human beings on this planet too. For tickets as little as $1 or $5 you can enter to win truly wonderful items-- high-end diaper bags, a custom Christmas stocking, handmade kids tees, books and cds, a full blog makeover, and hello...an ipod shuffle. All just in time to make someone's Christmas.

Most of all, Tanner's.
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B. Jenny wrote about The Hunger Site and is promising bridesmaid dress photos for comments and clicks for food. She says..

Every click at The Hunger Site generates funding that supports the vital work of Mercy Corps and America's Second Harvest. Currently, with a simple click of the mouse, you'll give over one cup of staple food to someone in need. This action costs you nothing; sponsors pay for the value of your click.
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C. The Merkin had dinner with us last week. And it was suhweet. I could write a whole post about it. But instead, I'll just warn you. If you don't know what the word merkin means. Don't look it up. Trust me on this one. Ignorence is bliss. Really.
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D. I promised I'd tell the Matt Damon story, so here it is. And it's Suh. Weet. A few years ago (pre-Luciana, Eric), the BcQ who is now the HcQ and I were staying here for a week or so before Christmas. We were waiting in the lobby for Janey to meet us to go here and here and here and here and other places.

So as we were waiting, I was standing at the bottom of a staircase watching these three people come down the stairs. The group of three consisted of these two very loud girls with Boston accents arguing about something that I couldn't figure out. There was a guy in between them, normal looking guy, guy from whom you would have borrowed your Algebra II notes back in the day. I didn't really look at him because I was distracted by these girls squawking at each other. He seemed determined to pacify them and move on. They seemed determined to go to the empty concierge stand and make a lot of phone calls. I was looking for Janey. He was looking at me. The great BcQ was watching all this and laughing from the other side of the room. He walked over to me and said, "Hey, notice anything?" I told him I of course noticed the loud girls. He pointed out the loud girls' friend. I gasped. They left. Janey walked in seconds after they walked out. She was really annoyed she missed the scene.

Also, I should point out that the HcQ is like a freaking celebrity magnet. Everytime I'm with him anywhere other than our house, he sees famous people. It's kind of weird. Also, KCG has this point system thing where you get so many points for seeing different types of celebs on the street. (I don't remember the system, but I know it's 5,000 points for SJP.) And let's just say I have like 758,000 points. Mostly because of the HcQ.
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E. On another very suhweet note, it's cookie month at the Queso. So on Friday, we're having a cookie exchange. Well, a cookie recipe exchange. I'll be posting thousands of my favorites. So come back Friday or next weekend, and post yours here or at your place and then link us in. It will be a party. And not just a party of girls, KCG. Boys cook cookies too. Duh. And Merkin, I know you're a great cook. So please give us your fave Holiday cookie recipes that don't involve Cyanide. Thanks.

Have a SuhWeet! Monday.

UPDATED:
Now With More Suhweets...
I nominated Jenny for the November ROFL awards, and she totally won! Okay, so everyone nominated wins. But still. Go here or here to see the full list of funny people.

And remember to visit Design Mom this week. It's her last week of everyday suhweet giveaways.

Highlights of the Week. (So Far)

1. I happily received a little shout out from the Queen of Everything herself on Mom’s Daily Dose today.

2. I can breathe.

3. I found 17 dollars in my diaper bag.

4. The Piglet of Fire publicly apologized for 'accidentally' hexing my Christmas tree. (It was extremely heartfelt, if not a little scary, and maybe the most creative apology I've received in a long time. He even quoted the bible and made reference to the fact that if I grab a coworker's arse, while kicking my boss, then I should chop off my leg with a chainsaw.)

5. A coworker, that I might possibly kick, just said “E, as in igloo". Completely serious.

6. I’m currently neither pregnant, nor breastfeeding, nor Baptist (not that there's anything wrong with that), so tomorrow’s office Christmas party should be spirited (if you know what I mean, and I know you do).

And. 7...

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Now that I'm reformed and relaxed and again enjoying the holiday season, I thought I'd share one of the iMixes I made over the busy weekend.

I love discovering what different traditions and memories each of us brings into the season. I'm constantly remembering new ones as the HcQ recounts his and we begin to establish our own.

And I'm finding that most of mine are set to the soundtracks of Elvis and John Denver & The Muppets.

Deck the Friggin' Halls.

Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Maybe Lucy's right. Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, you're the Charlie Browniest. – Linus

I think this is what they call Karma. Karma karma karma, biting me in my oh-so-sore body. If you’ll remember, only a few days ago I was all, ‘look at me, I’m the Mayor of Vacation Days. I have so much time. I have so much energy. I rule.’*

And today, I’m so tired that it is actually hurting my fingers to type. My fingers are creaky. My bones are squeeky. I’m tired and sore and exhausted in ways and in locations that I forgot existed. And sadly, that’s not near as fun as it might seem.

Because I’ve overindulged. I’m a glutton. I have absolutely put myself on overdrive and crashed into a wall.

It all started out innocently enough. I left my house only a little while after I pushed publish on that last rah-rah entry and went to the gym (good) and worked out (even better). I then showered, steamed, and got dressed for my massage and facial. Don’t I sound fancy? I’m currently hating my own guts, just recalling this.

After the luxury, I went to Whole Foods and spent a silly amount of money on a sandwich, some profanely dark chocolate, and a magazine. While I was blissfully reading, eating, sighing, singing, because little birds were circling around me singing and I hated for them to sing by themselves…it happened. I was rudely brought back to my life by a little girl no more than one, dressed all woolly and cute, and acting calmer than the Hurricane has been any moment of his entire life.

I was bamboozled by the cute baby.

She and her mom were being all leisurely together and I got sucked into their vortex...most likely because I was dehydrated from the massage or something... and I honestly and delusionally believed that the Hurricane and I could, no we should, no we must, leisurely spend the rest of the day together.

Now, if I’m being completely honest, I would not trade the rest of my day for anything. We didn’t have a leisurely lunch together, but we played and played and played full force. And sometime in those hours my focus shifted back to the little guy, back to the season, and back to how many friggin’ things that I needed to get done now, now now!

Look, Charlie, let's face it. We all know that Christmas is a big commercial racket. It's run by a big eastern syndicate, you know. –Lucy

I think now is the time to warn you that if I go into any real detail this post would win the obscenely detailed and boring award. So I’ll break it down. If you are a normal person and don’t care about the mundane navelgazing details of my life, feel free to skip this section. This section is mainly for people who like details and my mom.

• Hauled all the many boxes out of the dungeon that is our garage.
• Carried said boxes from garage to porch to appropriate rooms.
• Cared for one-year-old, played with one-year-old, fed and bathed one-year-old, watched Baby Santa, put one-year-old to bed.
• Started working on Christmas card list.
• Made a bunch of iMixes.
  
• Worked out.
• Went to a fantastic Christmas tree lot to purchase real, not-pink, Christmas tree.
• Went to Target in December with a one-year-old and no other adults around to help, only adults around to hurt and push and bang carts and fight over ornamentation and bobbles.
• Trimmed tree.
  
• Cared for one-year-old, played with one-year-old, fed and bathed one-year-old, watched Baby Santa, put one-year-old to bed.
• Actually made a real dinner.
• Untangled gigantic ball of lights.
• Strung many many strands of untangled lights on tree.
• Decorated tree with not as many breakables as usual.
• Put garland up on hearth and around house, put wreaths up on doors around the house.
• Wrote really detailed, technical and hard O&G overview brochure for very giant company.
  
• Woke up with one-year-old at 4 a.m. for no apparent reason. Stayed awake trying to get screaming, talking, screaming, manipulating, screaming one-year-old back to bed. Around 5:30 a.m., declared a combination Cold War slash Martial Law and finally gave up and left screaming child in the screaming child room.
• Went in for 8:30 a.m. status meeting. Worked all day. Came home.
  
• Cared for one-year-old, played with one-year-old, fed and bathed one-year-old, watched Baby Santa, put one-year-old to bed.

It's like my body was in superdrive. I was buzzing. And honestly, I'm really fun and sizzley and productive when I'm drunk on the busy juice.

But now I’m exhausted.

I'm completely hungover. Hungover from the busy, the movement, the activity.

And I’m sore as hell. Christmas tree trimming should be an Olympic sport. You hear that Fizz? Triathalon, schmiathalon. I have no idea what I'm talking about but I'm completely sure it's nothing compared to putting up a tree con trimmings with a toddler on the loose.

And oh my gingko biloba, what I wouldn’t give to go back in time, push pause and move that massage into today, when I actually need it. Not want it. Well, yes, want it. But mostly and actually, require it. Medically require it.

I. Need.Treatment.**

But I’m considering this my wake-up call.

Just like I swear, I swear, I swear on those odd weekend mornings when the Hurricane arises at the dawn of crack, after I’ve had one too many of these…I swear I will never ever drink again.

It’s like that.

Only with the busy.

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* Matt Damon story will come later this week, when it doesn't hurt to type.

**Fa la la la la la la la la.

+Postage stamp image courtesy of the very great and very busy U.S. Postal Service.

All I Ever Wanted.

In this life, I have learned to expect the bizarre. The tree falling on your car while you're in it (the car, not the tree). A seven month jury stint. A house burning to the ground. Getting hit hard by a drunk driver. Getting checked out by Matt Damon. Getting pulled over by a horse.

I'm usually unfazed. Rolling with it. No matter what. But even I can admit, what happened Monday really threw me for a loop.

Because if I'm really honest, I don't believe that some things could actually ever happen to me. Like winning the lottery. Knitting a sweater with Caroline Kennedy. Or having someone in HR approach me and tell me that I need to take vacation days.

But oddly enough, that last little item happened this week.

And I think this predicament is proof positive that something has shifted. In fact, it pretty much sums up how my life has radically changed over the last year.

Because not all that long ago, I NEVER had unusued vacation days. In fact, I would beg, borrow and steal vacation days. I was a whore for vacation days. (Figuratively speaking of course, Mom)

In fact, I was famous for spending my vacation days three years in advance. Let's just say if vacation days were a credit card, I'd have lots of people in India calling me to let me know my next vacation payment was due. Because they were in short, they were sacred, they were spent, and when it came to them, I was like a two-year-old. They were MINE and I wanted more more more.

But now, I have a Hurricane. And with his help, I've overachieved in taking all the many sick days I've been accruing over the last years. But that said and on the other hand, I have so many vacation days I haven't used that someone somewhere is getting uncomfortable and would like for me to take a few days off before the end of the year. And. I don't even really know what that means. But I'm not one to argue.

So.

I unexpectedly have the day off.

Along with childcare in place that I really can't cancel.

It's an embarrassment of riches. And, frankly, I'm not sure how to spend it. I've had this fantastic golden egg fall from the sky, and all of a sudden I don't know if I want to scramble it, fry it, poach it, throw it, paint it, or just sit on it.

What would you do if you had an unexpected gift of time?

I honestly don't know. Because somewhere along the way, I've become a person that A.) needs to be asked to take vacation B.) needs to be mandated to take vacation C.) could really only manage one day of vacation and oh my gosh D.) doesn't know what to do with a day off.

I think that last paragraph needs more investigation.

But not now. Because now, I've got to go make an appointment for an afternoon I-have-the-day-off facial.